Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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! lewis m. grist, proprietor. | Inbepenbcnl Jfamiljr $ftfospajjtr: Jfor fjri |lrontofion of fp political, Social, ^gritalforal anb Commercial Interests of fp Sonfp j terms--$2.00 a year, in advance VOL. 34 YOEKYILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1888. NO. 36. Ibe totjr ?rller. LUCK TO SILVER CAMP. Silver Camp was not given to romance. For all that its inhabitants were composed of men who had lived wild, adventurous lives on land and sea, the place was as quiet and peaceful as though it had been settled by a community of Friends, where the ties of brotherly love had usurped the dignity of the law and robbed it of half its glory. The rough miners were an intensely practical set of men, and it seemed as if they had all come to Silver Camp for the same purpose?to redeem partly the wildness of their early career by devoting time and attention to the art of money making. But the earth yielded up her hoarded treasures of gold reluctantly, ana the stern discipline that she required from those who would dig into her bowels of wealth, nipped in the bud the sanguine anticipations of many a youthful dreamer and hardened the already rough characters of the frontier districts. In the characteristic words of Sandy Tip: "She ain't got more gold in her than she wants herself, I guess, an' she's bound to make us fight fur every mite-thet we can squeeze out o' her. Howsomever, we ain't greenhorns bout sich work; we've been thar afore." The unlettered sage prophesied rightly. The grim, silent miners took up their morning where they had left it the night before, and stubbornly swung pick and spade through all sorts of weather from morning until night, even though the return for their work often amounted to less than half a dollar a day. At night time they smoked their pipes with as much satisfaction as though they were the owners of unlimited wealth. Over and above the discouraging fact that they were faring poorly, every miner had a vague, indefinite feeling that his streak of ill luck would pass away in time and palmier days would come. This hope was adroitly disguised in Sandy Tip's favorite remark. When the millennium of Silver Camp did come it was first announced by a stranger. A beardless miner had entered the camp one bright May day, and, after purchasing a supposed-to-be-worked outmine for a mere song, he set resolutely to work, repairing the damages done to the mine by the last owner, and then making preparations to go on with further excavations. Theolderinhabitants of the place shrugged their shoulders at the innocence of the "young 'un," but no word of advice was spoken to him, except the laconic re? . mark of one of the miners, who one day "* * ? -- ? ? kio knf met tne stranger oa ms w?^ w mo uuv. "Ye don't find much dust thar, d'ye-young 'un ? 'Tain't likely that you will nuther." The stranger merely smiled softly at this suggestion, which was intended as a kindly act; but apparently he considered his wisdom of more value than the old miner's, for instead of changing his position, he seemed to work all the harder in his mine. From the first he was very reserved in his actions and words, and he seldom associated with the other members of the camp unless business demanded it. No one objected to this particularly, for the motto of the place seemed to be, "Leave alone, and to be let alone." About two weeks after the stranger's advent, the first excitement for years was created by the announcement, that gold had been struck. The news ran from mine to mine like wild fire, and in half an hour all the men were surrounding the lucky finder. It was the youthful looking, beardless stranger, who stood in the center of the group, and explained how he had made the lucky stroke. A few doubted the genuineness of the gold at first, but several nuggets were handed to them to examine, the stranger showing delightful ignorance as to its quality and value, which caused more than one grizzly miner to smile pityingly at the flushed, handsome face of the owner of the gold. "It's the real stuff," muttered one burly, red flanneled individual, slowly weighing the nuggets in his hand. "An' ye can depend on it, stranger, thar's plenty more where this cum from. These yellow nuggets never go alone." "An' thet mine o' yers ought ter be wurth anywhere from fifty ter one hundred thoiidanrl olpan cash." intemosed a second representative of Siiver Camp. "What? Fifty thousand dollars?" exclaimed the beardless youth, his eyes showing his surprise as much as his words. "Then all my misery and waiting are rewarded at last. Thank God! But it is too good news to believe. Where can I get half that price for it??who would give me thirty thousand dollars for it?" The stranger looked around upon the, group of faces about him, and seemed to wait for the answer. "Well, stranger," remarked the first speaker, after a little pause, "I don't want ter take advantage of yer ignorance. 'Tain't my matter to be adoin' sich underhanded work. But if $30,000 is yer price, I reckon my pard an' me will buy that claim of ye. I'll tell ye beforehand, though, thet ye can get double thet price ef ye wait long enough ; but ef cash is any object ter ye, ye can hev it ter-night in as good gold as thet ye dug out of yer mine. Ef it's a go,jes' say the word, an'we'll walk up ter the cabin, an' settle it afore nightfall." The face of the stranger still wore a doubtful expression; but it soon cleared up as he turned to the bidder, for his gold mine, and said: "Men, I don't know much about these matters, for I have never followed the business for any length of time; but this gentleman's olfer is a fairone, and I think I will take it. I came here to make a fortune so that I could marry?could go into business in the east." The face of the stranger flushed up quickly, as he unwittingly revealed his secret, and a knowing look passed across the countenance of the miners. One or two whispers could be heard about "a sweetheart in the case," a "rich father-in-law, an' a poor son-in-law." Although not " 1 - -1?1 ^f 4V?/\ or\nal/n?* intenuea to reacu me ears ui mc , these remarks were plainly audible, and they merely served to confuse the young man more than ever. But a mohaent later he recovered himself, and, turning to the miner who had ottered to buy his claim, he said: "I will accept your offer. I need the cash, and I want to start for the east as j soon as possible. Keep out enough from the thirty thousand to pay for your best horse. 1 can then start for home at once, where such a welcome will meet me as J you men never dream of." "The young 'un is half intoxicated with i joy," laughed one of the miners, as the ! stranger and the buyer of his mine slowly j sauntered away from the group toward the latter's hut. The sight of such innocent happiness on the part of the beardless youth pleased the hardened miners, and ! they returned to their work again in a happier mood. All that evening "the new find" was dis- ' cussed by groups of men all over the camp, and there were many hopeful hearts in the crowds. The streak of ill luck was now about to pass away, and no one could tell who would be the next one to make j a lucky stroke. The stranger had already ; deserted the camp for parts unknown, taking with him the blessings and good wishes of those whom he left behindhand Bill Saunders and Jake WifHes, the two 1 purchasers of the mine, were now the centre of curiosity. To the oft repeated query, j "How does it pan out, pards?" they al-! ways replied : "Furst rate. Even better'n | I 'spected." For the next two days small golden nug-1 gets were found in the stranger's mine,. and the two grimy miners were convinced that their bargain had been a good one. Then they suddenly ceased to find any signs of the golden metal. Probably the vein had taken another course, and they i changed the direction of their excavation: but all to no purpose. The farther the dug into the sides of the mine the less < the precious substance they seemed t find. They returned to their hut the I night down hearted and crestfallen, bi neither coramuicated to the other wh? was passing through his mind. The ne> morning they began their work as usua and kept at it until late in the afternoon then Bill Saunders threw down his picl and laconically remarked, "Salted." "Yer right, pard, an' no mistak* We've been taken in to a big amount, calmly replied Jake, seating himself clos to his comrade's side. The two remained quiet for a long tim? while they looked gloomily at the wall of the mine, for the purchase of whic they had expended the last cent of thei hard earned fortune. The gold nuggel with which the mine had been salte would not yield them over a couple of hur dred apiece?a poor return for what the had given for them. The innocent look ing, beardless youth had outwitted then; a fact of which they were painfully cor scious; but instead of threats against hi life, they merely remarKea in a quie tone: "Probably we'll meet him agin. "We may as well close up this mine te night, Jake, an' return to the old one," sal Bill, as the gloom of night began to clos in around the camp. "We won't wan' ter work here any more." "Not this season, I guess, pard,"replie the one spoken to, slowly rising from hi seat on the damp earth. The two closed up the mouth of the rain with their own hands, and placed th well known sign "worked out" over th opening. Then they returned to the cen tral partof the camp, where they communi cated the tidings of their defeat to th other miners, who received them wit! different degrees of surprise and indigna tion. Some swore eternal vengeance 01 the head of the young swindler, and ai ominous flourishing of pistols indicate* the fate of the stranger if he should appea in Silver Camp again; but Bill Saunder turned to the crowd and calmly said: "Never mind, pards. He's got th trump card now ; but it'll cum our turi some day." "Thet's so; Bill's right. Let the mat ter drop, an'we'll take it upagin'som more convenient day," remarked two o three in a chorus. So the little ripple on the surface of th quiet life of Silver Camp, caused by th stranger's advent in the place, subsided and life went on among the miners as be fore. The luck did not seem to improv much; every ounce of gold that was fount was bought at its full value by hard labor and a few of the younger members of th camp became discouraged and carrie* their few traps elsewhere. One spring the snows on the mountain melted so rapidly during a two days' heav; storm that the Old Begum?the suggestiv* title by which the river that flowed by th* camp was known by the miners?threat enea to-overflow its banks and drive ever: man from his hut to the higher grounds It had been a tremendous storm, even fo il% 1/1 /\T IL A AAMnf n Arl ' WilU [iai 13 Ul lllC tuuubi J) auu x V/ ports were coming in from every direetioi about the damage to life and property tha the river had caused. Small rivulets 01 the mountain sides assumed gigantic pro portions and roared and tumbled over th< rocky country in an appalling manner The lower lands were already coveret with several feet of water, and people wert seeking refuge from the flood on the hill} plateau where the mining camps hat erected their small huts. The second day of the storm the miner! of Silver Camp started up the river in i body to take observations. The rain wai still pouring down in torrents, and th< men found some difficulty in facing th< storm as they trudged over the large bowl ders and loose rocks. They wished to se< what direction the river was taking, anc to ascertain if any weak places in the lef bank had yet been made. Every artich of value had been collected in small bun dies in the huts, so that at a moment'! notice the miners could make a break fo the higher land should the flood suddenlj burst upon them. "Seems to me the chaps from Stea Clearin' 's prospectin'too," said Bill Saun ders to his comrades as he jumped upor a small rock and looked up the river "They're comin' this way in a body jes as ef they was excited 'bout somethin'." "Shouldn't wonder ef the Old Begun had burst through up thar," remarket another miner. "Thar's a big cut jes above the clearin' an' 'twouldn't taki much to induce the river to flow througl it." "Waal, pards, I guess we can give 'en some shelter an' food, ef nothin' else,' replied Bill, slowly removing his hant from his eyes, which were now losinj much of their former keenness and bril liancy. m_*l_ ? f ~ ? XI ll.nl 4U/v 1 nn laiK was rue in ine camp umt me iua of his fortune had troubled Bill Saunder more than he cared to own up. He cer tainly had aged much since the younj swindler had left the mining camp, carry ing with him the hard earned fortune of the two old miners. Though Bill neve spoke about his loss to his comrades, i was evident from his manner that hi brooded considerably over his ruined pros pects. His daily toil in the mines did no yield him much more than enough to kee] body and soul together, and, unless thi long looked for luck struck the camp soon it was evident to all that he would bi destitute of money just when he mos needed it. His strength was fast failinj him, and as he stood upon the rock perch ed several feet above his comrades, hi: white beard and gray locks impressei them all with pity and veneration. "Bill is lookin' pretty badly," whisper ed one of the miners into his comrade': ear. " 'T will nigh break his heart to losi his hut an' few belongin's now by thi flood, won't it?" A slow shake of the head was the onb response, and then the talkers looked ii the direction the old man was pointing. A few minutes later a dozen burly mill ers, with rifles in their hands, emerget from the woods near the bank of the riv er, and began struggling up the hill They were from Steal Clearing, and wen evidently seeking refuge from the flood. "Hello, thar!" shouted the foremos member of the party, as he caught sigh of the Silver Camp miners, "llev ye seei anythin'of a stray chap roun' these 'er< parts? A nice, good lookin' chap, with j smooth face an' a nice, smooth tongue Kf ye hev, jes' tell him he's wanted up a Steal Clearin'. We've got some joyfu news fur him thar, an' 'twont take hin long ter find out what 'tis. Jes' a rope an a tree ; thet's all he wants." The two parties of miners had commoi interests. A young stranger had success fully swindled the miners of Steal Clearinj out of several thousands of dollars, an< the descriptions of the man given tallie< exactly with those that every miner o Silver Camp remembered as applying to i certain stranger who had entered thei village several years before. The fiooi and the danger threatened to the tw< camps were forgotten, and the search fo the escaped'swindler was begun in earn est. "Hold on, boys," said Hill Saunders with a nervous jerk in his voice. "As th man who has been most injured by thi young 'un, I'm entitled to say somethin' We must go 'bout this thing thoughtfully We wan't ter catch thet youngster, an we'll do it, either by our hands or our bul lets. Now, let's separate into three par ties. While one follows the river let th other two scour the country outthar." "Bill's right. We musn't be hot heade< 'bout this here job," responded Jaki Wifles, with a shake of his head. "Yi lead the party down the river, Bill, an I'll take charge o' anuther thet goes ove yonder. Cum, men, thar's no time ter bi lost." Once more the two outraged miner 9, seemed to renew their youthful spryness, 1 y and, as they hurried along down the river, >f their eyes were as keen and their footing . o as sure as they had been when they first it entered Silver Camp, nearly twenty years it before. Every open glade and rocky eleit vation was quickly searched, and then :t onward the party sped toward another 1, good place for concealment, losing no time 1 i; in following the trail of their victim, r, The trail led directly toward Silver i Camp, and the tops of the huts were just ( ?. visible above the surrounding underbrush i " when the form of a man was seen to skulk >e up from the river's bank and to enter one of the rude dwelling places. ' i, "Hist, boys, hist! He's gone inter one i Is of the huts. We'll have him now." h "It was the voice of Bill Saunders, and , r it trembled with excitement as he ut;s tered the words of caution. But before . d they could be heeded, a terrible roaring 1 l- noise behind the party startled them, y Faces turned white with terror, and hearts ' almost ceased to beat. The river had r ?, broken loose, and was now overflowing ] i- its bank just above Silver Camp, s "Save your lives men. We ain't got no it time to waste," shouted one of the miners, * " and, setting the example, he broke forth 1 r from the clump of bushes, and started on ? d a dead run for the higher land. The oth- ( e ers did not hesitate long. Bill Saunders 't was the last one to turn and flee, and he was heard to mutter to himself, as he hur- ] d ried through the bushes, "He'll die any- . s how. So it's all the same. But I would J like"? . ; e "Come on, Bill; come on," and Jack J e Wifles almost dragged the old man along ' e toward a ridge of rocks where safety for the * i- time being was promised. J l- A few minutes later Silver Camp was , e swept out of existence by the roaring wa- J h ters. Trees logs and bowlders were tumbled from their positions, and washed , a along with irresistible force. The huts , n were demolished in an instant, and left d floating on the bosom of the turbulent r stream. \ 3 Bill Saunders stood perched upon the j rocks looking intently at the camp, pa- ? e tiently waiting to see the struggling form a of the one who had robbed him of his wealth. But he looked in vain, and as the wreck of the village swept down stream, e the old miner left his station on the rocks, r and mechanically followed it, keeping his eyes riveted on a certain place. The other e miners did not miss his presence, and he 6 ran through the woods alone, muttering '? inarticulate words to himself. Once or ' twice he stumbled; but, picking himself 3 up with an exclamation of impatience, he 1 hurried on again. ' A mile below the river the wrecked huts 3 were washed close to the left bank of the 1 stream. A living being was clinging to one of the logs, and, as the floating raft <; 3 came within twenty feet of the bank, the ^ f person was seen to crawl rapidly across the ? B few planks, and with a desperate jump, ^ e sprawl into the water within a foot of the v " land. Bill Saunders watched the man un- ^ f til he scrambled up the steep bank and hid ^ ' himself in a small cave that overlooked jr the river. Then, without a word, he turn- ^ " ed and hurried back to where he had left s } his comrades. ( The miners skulked un noiselesslv to the I: natural den where the young swindler t ~ was concealed, and it was surrounded be- fc " fore the one within had time to escape. 4 i When the men closed in and commanded a the hider to come forth, there was no e ' sound to indicate the presence of a person 41 > in the cave. No one volunteered to enter t the place, for such an attempt would be a g , foolhardy feat. h "I guess he's 'scaped afore we got here," a , muttered one of the miners disconsolately. t< ^ "Don't b'lieve he was ever in here," a j said a second. "Bill's kinder cracked on t I that subject ever since he met them fellers p ~ from Steal Clearin'." ci [ Bill Saunders heard the remark, and his b t rugged old face Hushed up a little. He ti 3 glanced a? the speaker, and then, turning a * to the men, he said: f( " "Boys, this ain't yer quarrel, an' 'taint h r right ye should endanger yer lives. I'll n T go inter thet cave, an' either he or me'll n hevterdie. Ef he kills me, I'll leave it a j ter ye to avenge an old man's death." ti Before a reply could be made the old k ~ miner cocked- his rifle and fearlessly walk- o ed up to the mouth of the cave. Slowly 0 > his form disappeared from sight, and the h watchers outside listened for the report of j a rifle. But none came. s j "Bringa light, boys. It's dark in here." f( > With different degrees of astonishment o a they heard Bill's voice making this re- ji \ quest. When they entered the dark cave p in a body they found the old man bending ]< 1 over the prostrate form of the swindler, p > He was dead, killed by internal injuries t j received in the river. By his side was a s y small package containi.pg5!l0,000 in United t I States gold certificates, and pinned to his f breast was a large visiting card, on which 4 g was scrawled in a trembling business hand r s these words: c 4,Give this money to old Bill Saunders t r and his pard. I meant to pay them in t ! full what I took from them. But we have 1" g parted company iorever now. jl nope j r luck will come to the miners of Silver I t Camp. William Swinton, gambler, svvin3 dler, land grabber and gentleman of leis- \ . ure." F t "Tain'tbado'hini wishin'usgood luck," c 3 laconically commented one of the miners. 3 "No," grinned another, pointing towards the river, "seeingthatain't no more 3 Silver Camp." t t "Still, boys, I've heerd it said," inter- \ r rupted Sandy Tip, the prophet of the a ! camp, "thet what's one man's loss is an- g g uther man's gain. So who knows but we a 1 will hev better luck arter this?" t And they did. When the waters sub- l . sided, the miners returned to the old place \ s of their homes, and erected another yil- l 3 lage of huts. Gold was found on the sur- a 3 face of the ground where the water had c washed it up, and the diggings yielded good a j profits the first day they were worked, e i The flood had been a blessing to the men, \ for it brought the long looked for luck to a . Silver Camp. a 1 By the unanimous consent of the miners t - it was agreed that the new village should . be christened Golden Camp, and the name t i of Silver Camp gradually fell into disuse, t .... . S t T ?- c t Prophesy of tiie Future.?In speak- r l ing of the exhaustion of the coal fields, i b our source of power, the author gives a I i striking picture of the fair green England \ ? of:>00 years ago as compared with its pres- r t ent smoky skies and soot blackened sur- r 1 | face, where the whole island throbs with t l ! the coal driven engine, and the waters are s ' churned by the swift steamer; and then, t in the role of prophet, he unfolds the future f i of n few hundred years, when almost cer- a tainly the "all beholding sun" will send d 7 his beams "through rents in the ivy grown f 1 walls of deserted factories, upon silent en- e :1 gines brown with rust, while the mill i f hand has gone to other lands, the rivers d :i are clean again, the harbors show only : a r white sails, and England's 'black country' i s 1 is green once more! To America, too, t o such a time may come, though at a greatly *i r longer distance." And one chapter closes i -' with the following striking paragraph: f j "Future ages may see the seat of empire i, | transferred to regions of the earth now bar- \ eiren. and desolated under intense solar I s heat?countries, which, for that very cause, t . will not improbably become the seat of r ! mechanical and thence of political power. ' I Whoever, finds the way to make industri- 1 -1 ally useful the vast sun power now wasted s - j on the deserts of North Africa or the shores 1 e of the lied sea, will effect a greater change a in men's affairs than any conqueror in li 3 history has done; for he will once more c e people those waste places with the life c e that swarmed there in the best days of ' Carthage and of old Egypt, but under t r another civilization, where man no longer } e shall worship the sun as a god, but shall b have learned to make it his servant."? s [Review of "The New Astronomy." u HpsttltauMMS ?Mng. For (he Yorkville Enquirer. REMINISCENCES OF WESTERN YORK. Thomas Palmer, of whom we spoke ii the last chapter of these reminiscences was the father of Richard A. Palmer, ( native of Yorkville, who, as a member o nue of the Mississippi regiments, wa: killed at the first battle of Manassas, ant in the perpetuation of whose memory company A, 12th S. C. regiment, took th< name of "Palmer Guards." In companie: A. and B, of this regiment, Western Yorl was represented by some of its best men many of whom we will speak of hereafter noth as citizens and soldiers. Many of our readers remember Abran rolliver Smith,'commonly known as "A r. Smith." "A. T." was an inoffensiv< man, and nobody could truthfully say any :hing else about him. Like many men a ihe present day, he liket} his dram anc A'ould have it when it was possible tod< >o. "Lige" Aikins and "A. T." worked ? :rop together in 1858 or '59. "A. T." hat lever been raised to know much abou ivork, but he knew more about it thai 'Lige" did. "A. T.'s wife's name wai Margaret. She was the daughter of Rilej tVrrowood, long and familiarly known ir :hat section as "Riley Dink." He wot ;he soubriquet of "Dink" by imitatingtht song of the jay bird. He would some imes get a little tight and stand upon ? og or stump and catch the skin of hii ;hroat and bow his head from one side t( he other and say "Kill dinkle, kill dintie." He was a well digger by trade anc vas frequently engaged in that work wit! 'Jack the Sailor," of whom we have al eady spoken. Mr. Arrowood died undei nrcumstances which showed that Dr. Alex White stood upon the top round of his pro ession. He had been sick for sometime md Dr. White was his physician. The doc or had cautioned him as to his diet, anc tmong other things forbid the use of butermilk. This caution the patient neg ected to observe. Bysome means he pro :ured a good draught of buttermilk ant] lrank it a few minutes "before the doctoi :ame on his regular visit to see him. Beore the doctor came within several feet ol lim, he riveted his eyes on him and askec vnai ne naa Deen eaung. wnen me paient told him that he had drank some but ermilk and that he never felt easier in his ife, the doctor said : "You are dying ight now," and in a very short time he >reathed his last. I will now go back and take up A. T >mith. A better fellow never lived 01 lied than he. It was while he was enraged with "Lige" Aikins that he went ivery Saturday night to procure a dram vhich he spent Sunday, generally, ir Irinking. "Lige" took no part in the Irinking. "A. T." had a little jug thai leld between a quart and a half gallon, Phis he strapped over his shoulder in a hot-pouch style and went in quest of his )! be joyful. You might have heard him ate in the night returning singing or atempting to sing, some old church tune, lut it was like Shakespeare's clown; 'without time, note or tune." Some of the neighborhood boys concludd that they would have some fun with 'A. T." So one night they ambushed hemselves near where Mr. James Scog;ins now lives. After awhile they heard lim coming. The moon was shining, but s was his custom always he carried a orch. lie was left handed,'and came with flaming light in his left hand, singingat he top of his voice to keep himself comany. The ambuscade was in a ravine ensely crowded with bushes weeds and riers. 4A narrow path led through this hicket. As hecame near it his voice rang s if he was afraid something was in store arhim. Lang went a noise in front of im, with another on each side, and alaost in his rear, another. At the first oise he raised his light in his left hand nd peeped under his extended arm as if " ? " ... L ? 1 * A- ? <?/ O A/VM 4l* A 1! r?Vi 4- (ttnfl J sew vviutt it was, ouuu tuc ii^nt woo nocked out of his hand and one or more f the party sprang upon him, while the thers yelled: "Kill him! hold him! catch iim!" Ac. Without trying to further investigate the ituation as the negro said, "He asked de Bet to take care of the body," and sprang ff like a first-class race horse. The little ug became a contemptible barrier to his ocomotion, and he gave it a toss that anded it several corn rows from the imirovised path he took. The race was coninued for about 200 yards, when the puruers halted to enjoy a hearty laugh ovei he success of their prank. To reach home le had to go close by where old man 'Billy" Strain lived. He called there tc elate his recent experience and ask some if Mr. Strain's sons to go home with him ; >ut they were not at home that night, and he old man, who was an Irishman, said tc iim in his native dialect: "Pshaw ! goc ong, it's nauthing; you're only dhrunk, ^o'biddy wants to hurt ye." Thesporl vas not so enjoyable after all, for "Lige,': vho was fond of litigation, wanted several ?arties prosecuted, though it was not lone. J. L. s. THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS. We stood at the great gulf in the mounain top?at the crater of the most active rolcano in the world. From the great .byss before us came great clouds of thick, ulphurous vapor, with a sound sometimes ,s if thunder storms were being manufacured within, and again as if the hosts ol tades were down there, battling furiously vith each other. We could readily beieve?what we are told by scientists?thai , volcano is a constant war between the icean of water that is always not far away .nd the ocean of fire that rages inside the arth. Now and then great flocks of stones vent flying hundreds of feet into the air, ,nd at the end of their return journey lighted as near us as we cared to have hem. Wishing to get another view of the era er, I engaged iwo extra guiues, who, joi he modest sura of $1 extra, contracted tc how me everything additional that one ould witness, and yet hope to descend the nountain on the outside, and take dinnei n the evening with his friends. After exlibitingseveral points upon their anatomy vhere bones had been broken by falling ocks (all of which seemed to have healed emarkably) they led me straight into the hick sulphury steam, which was about as titling as anything I ever undertook to reathe, and made the physical interior eel as if it were being treated to a sudden ttack of spontaneous combustion. We lescended into a crater valley, which was ullof vapor breathing crevices, and weird nough to form one of the most interestng districts of Xante's "Inferno." Sudlenly my guides made a break for fresh ir and the outer edge of the crater, and I, upposing that some tremendous new hisorical convulsion of nature was at hand, ised about a second and a half in followng them?so as to get a good look at it rom a safe point. "Great dangero !" shouted the swarthy dllain who had my five francs. "It lows, this the wind! a wrong way! Hall he hour ago, all it was different! But we nust now go it back !" The average Yankee, however eowardy, had rather lose his life fairly than be windled out of a dollar; and besides, I lad been told of this trick by a friend who scended the volcano the day before. So, tiding all my trembling fears, I insisted n the whole trip to the edge of "the new rater." "It is death with only two guides," said he swarthy villain. "Two more guides ou must haf, that they shall warn and :eep the falling stones from killing you." At this point new guides began to spring ip around me, as if they had been ejected from among the contents of the volcano > Not wishing to take too many of them int< certain destruction, I ignored all excep - the smallest one, and shaking ray cane a him with an assumed courage which I di< not exactly feel, threatened him with in stant destruction entirely discounecte< with volcanoes if he did not follow out th< ? terms of the contract, i We were soon at the best point fron f which to view the great drama of fire tha 3 was going on beneath. Flames sent thei j ruddy glow upon the swelling clouds o vapor that constantly pushed their wa: ^ into the air. Now and then came a sol i from the breast of the cruel mountain, a 3 if it were mourning for the thousands i c had murdered. The sulphur fumes raadi me feel as if the volcano were reaching ou ' its long white fingers and clutching me b: ' the throat. A half grating and half hiss ing sound was followed by an explosioi i like the voice of a cannon, and a long stoni . wall went stretching up into the air it ; lragmental sections, between me and tha [ invisible locality where the sky was sup " posed to be. I soon began to persuaui J myself that it was unjust to expose th< 1 guide tb peril any longer, and, to set i ) good example, scampered out of the wa> ? ahead of him uith as much aedlitv as 18, j pounds avoirdupois would allow.?[VVil t Carleton in !New York Star. f THE HUMAN BRAIN. The instrument with which the immor tal part within us reaches the materia world is the human brain. Thousands o facts tell us that from that centre, througl what are called the nerves of special sense and also from the prolongation of its sub stance which constitutes the spinal cord by numberless minute branches of nerve: to the remotest parts of the body, go thi telegraphic wires which bear the man dates of the mind. There has arisen at this day a school o philosophers who aver that the mind i: the mere secretion of the brain; a forc< and nothing more?expended in the act created anew for each operation, and ne cessarily dying with the body that gives i existence, in the dreary death of annihila tion. This specious philosophy, this glittering solution of the complicated phenomena o the mental world, making men the auto mata of physical force, when pressed to it: logical end, knows no conscience, no righ or wrong, no Divine law, and, indeed, m God, in all the universe; only the likes ant dislikes of atom and the blind whirlwind: of physical attraction. The dream?for it is only a dream?ii r repeated throughout popular modern liter I ature as though it had really been accept ed as truth by eminent leaders in medica science. ^ But no, the mind that dwells within u: !, is a spark of Divine essence destined to i t life beyond the grave. Did I say that th< nprvps wpre the telecranhic wires of the [ system and the brain the central battery' s True, but the operator is the mind, sepa ? rate and independent from the machinery at its command. The battery, whicl [ sends forth currents of influence to th< i farthest wires, when the connection if , unbroken, gives but the jangle of unintel ! ligent motion until the directing power o the operator impresses thought upon it! | quiverings, or directions upon its force and registers his will in intelligible lan . guage\ i The proposition I assert is, that there ii [ no such thing as a diseased mind when , the body is in perfect health, implying the brain natural in size, unaffected in it! ; structure or functions by disease, and sup plied with pure blood, unvaried by excesi or diminution. The mens nana always re ; sides in corpore sano. Let any one of these conditions be de i stroyed by imperfect organization of th< brain at birth, or its abnormal develop i ment by mechanical injury to its vessels whether by violence or disease, or by pois oned blood circulating through its struct ' ure, and there comes a period when thicl clouds envelop the spirit and obscure men tal perception, or even directly interrupi every-day intercourse with men anc things; so that by degrees and insensi ble shades the victim falls into the catalogue of the insane. Can the mind itself suffer disease? Ther it is pierced with mortal taint and will surely die, beyond hope of resurrction i Thousands of men come back to life anc ! happiness even after what some would cal the death of mind. Why are they noi i new men, if the soul is a secretion of the ; brain? How is it possible that each mar ; comes back to his own identity? Whc hns over found himself a new beinc. or re cognized another as such, gifted"with ? separate and independent mind, after the passage through a season of lunacy, ever ! of long years ? Voice, expression, lani guage, views, tastes, education, whatevei > individualizes or differentiates one mac > from another comes back to stamp him a.( I such a creature of God his Maker, and ne 1 other one.?1 Dr. Grissom. ! THE PROSPERING SOUTH. The indications for a season of grea: t activity in the trade and manufacturing ' interests of the South are exceedingly fa 1 vorable. Rarely, if ever before, has the t prospect been more promising. The corr and cotton crops of 1887 were the larges ever produced in the South, and, as gooc prices were realized, the farmers founc themselves at the beginning of 1888 in i s much better financial condition than foi t many years. Blessed as the farmers o , the South were last year with abundani i crops, present indications point to a sea son of.still greater agricultural prosperity r The yield of fruit and vegetables has beer - unprecedentedly heavy, and the ship ments north have taxed the carrying ca; pacity of the railroads. The yield oi s wheat in most of the Southern Stages, es peeially in those in which it is a leading s crop, such as Maryland, Virginia, Ten i nessee, Ac., has been phenomenally large , and the aggregate yield for the South wil ' doubtless be the greatest on record i Moreover, the shortage in the Westerr wheat crop has enhanced values, anc Southern farmers are obtaining much bet ter prices than a year ago. The acreage > of corn and cotton is unusually heavy t greater even than in 1887, when the larg! est crops ever raised in the South were produced, and so far in the season the in dictations point to larger yields also than last year. The corn crop is almost made ; and this year the Southern farmers wil have less Western corn to buy than foi i many years. In fact, the South will i almost be self-supporting in the corn line i While the corn crop has many danger.5 vet, to meet, its condition ud to the Dresenl i is almost all that could be asked, and it is i only reasonable to look for for a good crop i with a strong probability of a yield equalling even the splendid outturn ol 1887 The cotton manufacturing interests of the entire world are in such flourishing con dition that the heavy crop of 1887 has been absorbed at good prices and stocks are smaller than even a year ago. Undei these circumstances it is but fair to look foi a continued active demand and profitable ; prices for all the cotton which the Soutli will produce this year, even if we should again have a 7,000,000 bale crop. ; The prosperous condition of the agricultural interests is, however, only one oi ( the features of the brilliant promise of the South. Two years ago millions of dollars were invested in the building of new i furnaces, founderies, rolling mills and kindred enterprises. Many of these greal i enterprises have been under construction, yielding no profits, but virtually locking up all the money thus invested. Now they are all getting into operation, and before 1888 ends there will be such an enormous production of manufactures in i the South as would have seemed impossible five years ago. From mines and furnaces, rolling milis and founderies, car works and pipe works, cotton mills, wood, working establishments and industrial i. enterprises of almost every variety, mil0 lions of dollars' worth ot manufactured t goods are being turned out to swell the t! tide of Southern prosperity. All of this 1 is creating a vast amount of profitable - ! employment for laborers, and the South is 1 ! rapidly becoming a hive of industry, e Heretofore thousands and tens of thousands were idle for a greater part of the 2 year, because there was no work for them t to do; employment could not be had. r Now there is work for all in many parts f of the South, and the industrial developi ment now in prgress is rapidly hastening l> the day when no man need be idle because s of the lack of work. The combination t of great agricultural prosperity?great at b least 'as compared with any other since t the war?and vast manufacturing and j railroad interests, bringing wealth to the - laborer and the capitalist alike, is rapidly 3 making the whole South rich. And unb less all signs fail, or some wide disaster i overtakes the cotton crop during the comt ing month, we may look for a season ol - such business activity as the south has s never known before.?[Manufacturer's 3 Record. i ? { A GOOD LINE TO WORK ON. 5 At the recent session of the Mississippi * Baptist Convention, the following report on temperance was unanimously adopted. It puts the whole question in a terse and (jompact forth form, and assigns to each - remedy for the growing evil of intemper1 ance in its proper place. If temperance f advocates could unite upon such a declarai tion of principles throughout the land, , and prepare themselves by organized ef fort to secure individual action and the , inculcation of such principles in every s community, it would not be many years 3 until a revolution in public sentiment - should be wrought out that would abolish the saloon in this country. The forces f gathered under such auspices would prove 3 irresistible, and the most important fea3 ture of the work would be its increasing , growth, as generations come forward right Jy instructed as to the evils of liquor t drinking and the baneful influence of the - liquor traffic upon the civil and religious institutions of this land. It is encouragX ing to note the unanimity of our brethren f in Mississippi as to plans and methods, - and to have the assurance that gratifying s progress is being made along the entire line t of temperance work : > The criminality of the liquor traffic is 1 no longer debatable ground. Even the 3 U. S. Supreme Court says: "We cannot shut out of view the fact within the 3 knowledge of all that the public health, - public morals and public safety may be - endangered by the general use of intoxi1 eating drinks; nor the fact established by statistics, accessible to every one, that the 3 idleness, disorder, pauperism and crime i existing in the country, are in some de3 gree at least traceable to this evil." 3 The Supreme Court of Iowa, speaking oi ? the use of intoxicating drinks, says: "It - is the prolific source of crime, pauperism 7 and insanity, and deteriorates mentally i and physically the human stock." This 3 admission is now quite general that it 3 "desolates the home and desecrates the - ballot," and makes the wail of the worse f than widow and unclad, hungry child as3 cend to heaven. , What may be done to check?what tc destroy?the whiskey traffic ? That is the question now asked by the Christian and the philanthropist. 1st. Your committee thinks we must ourselves abstain from the dram-drinking habit. There is no precept like example. 2d. We should appeal to science, and teach the evil effects of alcohol to our children. Yes, teach, teach the children; let us strive that the next generation are not drunkards. Teach them?then protect them from temptation by abolishing the saloon from the land. Add to this "moral suasion," and you have all the methods known to your committee for fighting this appaling evil. Let us adopt all these methods?the appeal to science, to reason and to law with self-restraint; andcontin' ue in the van-guard in the irresistible conflict till our homes and our boys are saved. Your committee notes with special pleasure the wide-spread, increased interest and general advance of the temperance i movement all along the line. The conl flict may be long and bitter, but the Ever. lasting Arm is in it, and will prevail. All I the churches are united here. 1 The present is the auspicious time in t MississiDDi. The eves of the emigrant } from abroad are upon this sunny land as 1 never before. Our religious liberty and ) indeed our civil institutions will be safer ' to ourselves and our posterity if this gi1 gantic evil be routed before the influx of 5 population is much larger. God speed the 1 day of triumph ! - j A WONDERFUL SCIENTIFIC CALCULATION. ' 5 In the course of a lecture in connection j with the London Society for the Extension of University Teaching, Sir James Paget said science would supply the natural life of man with wonders uncounted. He rel membered once hearing Mile. Jonatha r play a presto by Mendelssohn, and he ; counted the notes and the time occupied. [' She played 5,595 notes in 4 minutes and 3 J seconds. It seemed startling, but let them . look at it in the fair amountof its wonder. Every one of those notes involved certain , movements of a finger, at least two, and many of them involved an additional movement laterally as well as those up and down. They also involved repeated t movementsof the wrists, elbows and arms, altogether probably not less than one movement for each note. As there were ' twenty-four notes per second, and each of those notes involved three distinct music" al movements, that amounted to seventytwo movements in each second. Moreover, each of those notes was determined \ by the will to a chosen place, with a cer tain force, at a certain time, and with a certain duration. Therefore there were [ four distinct qualities in each of the seventy-two movements in each second. Such were the transmissions outward. And all those were conditional on consciousness of the position of each hand and each finger before it was moved, and, while moving it, the sound of each note and the force of each touch. Therefore, there were three conscious sensations for every note. There were seventy-two transmissions per second, 144 to and fro, and those with constantchange of quality. [ Let them imagine it in telegraph wires. Anr? Mion tulrlpfl tn that, all the time the [ memory was remembering each note in , its due time and place, and was exercised \ \ in the comparison of it with others that I ' came before. So that it would be fair to i ; say that there were not less than 200 transi missions of nerve force to and from the II brain outward and inward every second, , | and during the whole of that time judg?I ment was being exercised as to whether ! I the music was being played worse or betj i ter than before, and the mind was conj ! scious of some of the emotions which the : music was intended to impress.?[Pall I Mall Gazette. t I "To Write a Pretty Note."?Ruled 1 paper is never used for notes or correspondence. It is considered inelegant and 1 unfashionable. f Square cards are employed for giving or i1 answering invitations and the square en> velope, sealed with wax, accompanies ' them. 1 j Abbreviations are almost entirely avoid:' ed in ceremonious notes, as they savor of ,, haste, and are hardly respectful. ; With a fortunate few "to write a pretty r { note" seems to be somewhat of a gift, I i while others find it a hard task. The latt ter will be helped by approaching the dui ty in a business like manner. First try to arrange your idea and know what meaning you want to convey ; then concentrate the mind upon expressing your thoughts intelligibly, briefly and gracefully. THE TELAUTOGRAPH. Professor Elish Gray, of Highland Park, s has just completed an invention scarcely i less wonderful and valuable than the teleEhone, of which he was also the inventor, ut of which he was defrauded. "Within a few days," said the professor the other day, "I shall give a private test of my new telautograph, an invention which will largely supplant the telephone. By this invention you can sit down at your office in Chicago, take a pencil in your hand, write a message to me, and as your pencil moves a pencil here in my laboratory moves simultaneously and forms the same letters and words in the same ; way. What you write in Chicago is in! instantly reproduced here in fac-simile. You may write in any language; write in 1 shorthand if you like, use a code or cipher, no matter, a fac-simile is produced here. If you wish to draw a picture it is the ' same?the picture is reproduced here. ; The artist of you paper can, by this device, telegraph his pictures of a railway > wreck or other occurrence, just as a rei porter telegraphs his description in words. The two pencils move synchronously, and there is no reason why a circuit of 500 miles cannot be worked as easily as one of i ten miles. ; "This telautograph will supplant the , telephone for many purposes. It can be [ worked in exchanges, just as the telephone i is, or by private wire. It has many ad vantages, too. It is noiseless and devoid s of the many annoyances so common to the telephone. It will be much less affected , by induction. There will be no trouble in catching words or syllables, letters or figs ures. No misunderstanding will result. ' Besides it leaves a record at both ends of i the wire, and there can be no dispute ol\nnf tirno 17ai? nil n/\rv? *v-?OKiiln 1 auuuu ?v Aicvb >?fto ^aiui i ui ail v.uuiuiciv;iai . transactions this would be an invaluable i feature. In ordering goods, or sales of ' stocks or grain, or in transmitting names or addresses its superiority over the tele; phone is obvious. For desultory conver sations, it is true, it would not be so rapid of working, for the reason that one cannot ! write as fast as he can talk, but, on the i other hand, it would save many of the delays and annoyances incident to telephonic communication. , "When one person wishes to comraunl; cate with another by the telautograph he i pushes a button, which rings an annunciator in the exchange, or in the office of the ! person with whom he wishes to converse. Then the first party takes his writing pencil from its holder?and this may be pen or pencil?and writes his message upon a roll of paper. As he writes so writes the pencil at the other end of the wire. Finishing his message he adds a cross, or any other simple token that he has finished, when the second party takes down his pencil and writes a reply. Thus a conversation can be carried on easily and quickly, and when it is finished another simple word?say the telegraphic signal "30"? will indicate the end. Both parties have a full record of the conversation, and each possesses other's autograph, i "In writing," continued the professor, , "your pen or pencil is attached to two . small wires, and these wires regulate the i currents which control the pencil at the . other end of the wire. But these wires give you no trouble. You hardly know , they are there, and can write with as much facility as if they were absent." "Can this invention be used to advantage commerically ?" "Yes. It will not cost more than 815 or $20, and is easily kept in order. I have tried it again and again, and it works more perfectly than the telephone, and is much less liable to have its usefulness interfered with by induction."?[Chicago Herald. THE VALUE OF GOOD ROADS. The following extract is taken from a paper read before the Connecticut State Agricultural Society by Professor W. II. Brewer on "The Carrying of Farm Products,"and published in the annual report of the State Board. "Good roads are one of the first essentials fora high civilization. It has been so in all ages, it is so now. There can be no great nation unless it has raeansof intercourse between its parts, and the very fact that railroads now offer easy means of travel and transportation for great distances gives new importance to the local highways that lie between the farm and the railway, or the farm and the town. "The Romans built great roads as they extended their empire and their dominion. They were a military necessity, but they had their other uses and were a great -** i-? *? ?\AA*\1AO fKait /iAn_ Jctciur JII ClVUl/.ILig mc Jicujjico H1CJ kvu quered. And when Rome fell the roads became poorer, and this was one of the causes as well as one of the effects of the dark ages which followed. Macaulay and other historians have told us how bad the roads were in Great Britain in the last and in previous centuries. How that farm products had to be carried on the backs of pack horses, except cattle which might be driven on foot, and how slow travel was generally. When the highland Agricultural society came into existence in 1784, it found the great obstacle to improvement on farms to be the want of means of internal communication. "The defects of the public roads then in existence operated most prejudicially to the farmers who sent their produce to market. It limited the production and prevented the replacing, by manure, of the elements of fertility which were abstracted. The turnpike act went into effect about 1760 or 1765, but it was not until well into the present century that good roads became common enough to allow English and Scotch agriculture to take the high stand the middle of this century found it. A prize essay on the fifty years, published in 1S10, in the Farmers' Magazine, brings this out most strikingly, how the improvement in roads led to progress in agriculture. "Most countries of Continental Europe have built roads for military purposes, which became great factors in the development and progress of the countries in times of peace. Napoleon had the first wagon road built across the Alps, that cannon and armies might move the easier. Now that four tunnels pierce the Alps for railroads, for peaceful traffic, the country finds greater need than ever for good local roads. "Military roads have been built by every civilized education on earth, I think, and in the end the roads proved of more importance to the arts of peace than they did even to war. The great 'National ltoad,' built by our general government from Baltimore westward across the mountains to Wheeling, thence to Cincinnati and St. .Louis, was a great aid in duiiqing up the West, and was for a long time a great route of travel and inland traffic. So long as western outposts were disconnected with each other and with the outer world by roads, they could not grow." A Very Painful "Breaking Out." The England deacon of the olden times was gifted with good sense, piety and an epigrammatic way of speaking. In the "Traditions of the Bellows Family" men! tion is made of a Deacon Foster, of Walpole, who proposed to an aged widow by offering "to go the rest of the way to heaven with her." The offer was accepted. One morning he rode up to the door of a lady in a great haste, and told her that a neighbor, Mrs. Carter, was in sore trouble, as she had been "violently taken with a serious and painful breaking out about the 'mouth.'" The lady at once went to the neighbor's house, and found Mrs. Carter going about her duties and nothing unusual on her face. Surprised, she told her of the deacon's message. "Well," answered Mrs.Carter, "I know what he meant. When he came here this morning, I was giving Ben Carter a piece of my mind for his carelessness, and the good deacon thought my temper made my speech a little unscriptural."?[Youth's Companion.