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i.ewis m. gkist, proprietor. J |jui .Independent ^aiiiili) ^tciuspapcr: ,Jfor the promotion of the foliticat, ^ociat, ^(jHcitWiirat and (Commercial Interests of the ^outh. jterms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL. 35. YORKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 24, 1889. . NO. 30. ' 1 I in i nma tvi\ m/tirntfo Selected foctry. KATE. Thoro's something in the name of Kate Which many will condemn; Hut listen now while I relato The traits of some of them. There's deli-Kate, a modest dame, And worthy of your love; She's beautiful in a frame, As gentle as a dove. Communi-Kato's intelligent, As we may well suppose; Ifer fruitful mind is over bent On telling what she knows. There's intri-Kate, she's so obscure, 'Tis hard to find her out; For she is often very sure To put your wits to rout. Provari-Kate's a stubborn maid, > She's sure to have her way; The caviling, contrary jado* ^ Objects to all you say. k There's alter-Kate, a perfect pest, W Much given to dispute ; [ Her prattling tongue can never rest, > You can not her refute. There's dislo-Kate, in quite a fret, Who fails to gain her point; Her case is quite unfortunate, And sorely out of joint. Euuiyo-Kate no one will woo; The thing would be absurd ; She is so faithless and untrue, You can not take her word. There's vindi-Kate, she's good and truo, And strives with all her might Her duty faithfully to do, ^ And battles for the right. There's rusti-Kate, a country lass, Quite fond of rural scenes; She likes to ramble through the grass, And through the evergreens. Of all the maidens you can tind, There's none like edu-Kate; Because she elevates the mind And aims at something great. Jwial Jfotw. Mystery of Deadman's Flat CHAPTER IV. The crowd of men who has assembled to see the last rites performed over the body of their late townsman turned away from his grave on the edge of the pine forest, discussing on their way back to Deadman's Flat the reason of the murder and the probability of the discovery of the murderer. Go-for-hiru Tom must h?cA Wn dead some davs when ho was found?so his fellow townsmen surmised, for he was recognizable only by the clothes he wore. His death was a mystery. Though two or three of his acquaintances in the town were known to hate him, his murder could not be brought home to any of them. Most of his fellow townsmen felt that he quito deserved his fate; but the lawless acts of crhne and violence which had becomesoalarmingly frequent among them made them all decide that the murderer in this case should be found and made an example of. A committee was formed to discuss the matter, and, after leaving the grave, these men repaired to the "Red Unicorn," where, taking possession in solemn state of a spare room set apart for their private use, they proceeded to talk over the affair. The less privileged public hung about the bar or the open space in front of the grog shop, discussing the matter too, growing more decided in their opinions in proportion to the consumption of j spirits. "Hullo, mister, what's your opinion?" ' asked one, a tawny liaired miner, with a . picturesque, but extremely dirty red shirt, with trousers patched with pieces of cloth of various colors. He addressed a gentleman who repre- j sented the higher civilization of town life by a shabby, greasy frock coat, minus most of tlie buttons, a frayed and crumpled pair of cuffs attached to the shirt that , was yet scrupulously clean, having only just left the wash tub. His trousers were baggy at tho knees, but they were as yet of one color and piece, and had quite a fashionable cut among the varied and curious garments k that prevailed among the male population of Deadman' Flat. This gentleman 1 had been very tipsy when lie started for I the funeral; so very tipsy indeed that, k when he had insisted upon going close to " the grave to have one more look, ho had only been saved from tumbling in by a \ stalwart miner who caught him by the ample tails of the frock coat, remarking that he had never known before what was tho use of all that stuff in a coat. The gentleman was drunk then, but he ( was considerably worse now. When thus suddenly appealed to, as ho stood propped up against the fence, he could I only recall that one little incident. "You shouldn't have done it," he 6aid mournfully, shaking his head, and trying to point an impressive finger at the friendly miner, but nearly losing his balance in tho attempt. "It wash all peashful down there. It looked sho cool and peaceful?wentsch to be at peaco with him too!" A roar of irreverent laughter greeted this desire for peace. Ho looked at them reproachfully; but his hat, .which had fallen over one eye, rather spoilt the effect by giving him a decidedly rakish appearance, and as he lurched from side to side his attempt at solemn dignity was a failure. "You'll bo shorry some day! Perhaps you'll die, too, an' be laid in the peasliful grave. Where's pump? Oh, take me f/-, tlin iiniiiii vniiinr mil 11?t.nlrslift inn to vv. ?..v, ^ ~ O tho pump! Ishn't far?not so far as the grave." With a lurch forward, ho seized the arm of a young man standing near him, who. with a look of disgust, tried to shako him off, though perhaps at another timo ho too might have joined in tho chorus of rough laughter and jeers. He had. however, been at that funeral, and it had awakened old feelings and influences. Mr. James Snaresbrook was not M to be shaken off so easily. "Don't deshert a fellow being, young j man! Pump isn't difficult find. Let me shlecp in peash under itsh shade! Fine * thing?pump!" "Thinks he's under a four poster when he's there," said ono of the men; "he's seldom long away from it. Quaker Joo /ought to charge for his lodging." "Ho wouldn't do anything so ungentlev manly! Never toush water?pumpshfred* > to all. Expecting my daughter?she'll f knowsh where to fin' me. Come 'long!" \ Tho young man yielded, seeing that it ; was the only way to get rid of the sway| ing bomuddled specimen of humanity clinging to his arm. Ho took him to the t back of the "Red Unicorn," whero a ; clearing had been made and planted with j vegetables. Hero stood tho pump, by a low stone trough, and the young man, 1 reaching it, shook him off. Mr. James Snarcsbrook dropped heavily on the edge of the trough, by a lucky lurch recovering his balance before he tumbled into it. "Queersh?very!" he said, looking up in a wondering solemn way at the pump handle over his head. "Pumpsh always found when two looksli for it?always runsh away from one! Young mansh, there's a moral 'u that! If I could find ?prapsh ho knowsh who's sleeping in peashful way over there!" lie tried to point solemnly over his shoulder in the direction of the grave on the outskirt of tho forest, but the effort cost Iiilu las balance, ana ne tuiauiea backwards with a splash into tho water, of which tho stono trough was full. Mr. John Smith dragged him out. and shaking him violently to get rid of a little of tho superfluous moisture, dropped him 0:1 to a less damp resting place. Then ho fished out tho floating hat, and giving it a shake, too, hung it on to the pump handlo to dry; and then, feeling that ho had dono all that could bo reasonably expected by 0110 fellow creature from another in the circumstances, returned to tho front of tho shanty, where he found a new excitement agitating the crowd. Tho murdered man was forgot ten, for the coach was coming in. Tho long low building, dignified b the name of grog shop, hotel or bottl works, according to tho humor or pre tensions of the speakers, stood on th highroad; the stores, gambling saloon and other shanties straggled behind it i one irregular street, which had a fe\ lesser ones branching off from it. Th "Red Unicorn," owned by Quaker Joe formed tho advance guard of the town Tho coach always pulled up before it hospitable doors, and the open space i front of them, ambitiously called "Th Square," was generally full of the miner and townspeople who assembled to ge a good view or tho arriving coach, whic drove through Deadman's Flat once week. It could now be seen in the dis tance. There was a good piece of straigli road between Deadman's Flat and th forest, arid directly the coach left th pines behind it could be seen and watche till it dashed up into the square itself. This was the one link between tha lonely far off spot aud tho outer world to which at one time most of the inhab; tants of Deadman's Flat had once Ix longed, but to which, owing to stron and not always reputable reasons, the, could never return. John Smith did not expect either let ters or friends by the coach; but he tool up a position in the square, and stoo< looking at it with the others. It cam along in fine style, the red dust whirlinj up in clouds behind it, and makinj Quaker Joe, who was watching it fron tho door of his hotel, think of plentifu orders for drinks when it should finalb pull up. With a dash and a ringing o harness it at last arrived in the square and then the smoking team was pulle< up with a grace and dexterity whicl elicited a murmur of approval and ad miration from all the bystanders. Thei followed all the usual bustle and con fusion of such an arrival, driver, horses packages, passengers, all being attendee to at once. Today there was only one passenger and the driver showed such interest am anxiety for her comfort and her luggag that the eyes of all the men were turne< towards her as she alighted. The resul was a general desire to devote them selves to her service, and a quick move inent was made in her direction. On young man, however, was quicker thai the rest. Mr. John Smith was at he side holding out his hand before he ha< even recovered from the shock and de Uirhf nf ennimr hnr Tfc wna his fripnd o "b"" "^-x-*"b ? tho forest! She greeted him with a smile, which while it made him the envoy of all th other men standing round, caused hin to wonder for a few moments whethe he were on his head or his heels. Th group of volunteers drew off discreetly seeing that the two young people wer already known to each other, and the; gathered round the driver instead, wh was being hospitably treated by tho pro prietor of the "Red Unicorn." "Any news?" asked tho driver, hand ing back the battered pewter tankard. The question was followed by a shor silence, as it was one that required sonv mental exertion to answer. ' Tom Cairnes is gone," said ono of tin miners at last, taking his pipe out of hi mouth to give this brief reply. "Buried him away over thar, thi afternoon." said another, with his eye fixed solemnly on the men rubbing dowi the horses. The driver stared from ono of tin speakers to tho other, and then all roum the group of men about him. They me his gaze with stolid solemnity, one o two giving a curt nod to confirm tho in formation. "Bullet through his heart," volunteem mother. "Ho was found away thar ii the wood. Sorter looked as if he hat been dead somo days, Guess ho wasn' fit to remove liyar." "Has tho skunk that shot him beei found?" asked Driver George excitedly. "No," said tho same man, whose pipe having gone out, gavo him the timo takei in refilling it to explain matters. "They ?with a jerk of his thumb in the direc tion of tho hotel?"are sitting on th case now. There was some papers foum that p'r'aps may give a clew to the mui derer." Driver Georgo looked relieved; and after taking off his hat and rubbing hi " * i - ? - 1 i 11 l.;..r l. ioreneau wmi a ieu nuiiu&eremei, u said questioningly: "He'll swing when he is found?" "You bet!" came from a dozen voices John Smith and Miss Snaresbrool standing a little apart from tho rest, ea changing tho usual commonplaces abou the journey and tho heat, had bccoiu silent. Tho girl had overheard some c tho men's conversation, and sho straine her ears in the hope of hearing mors Her back was turned to them, and onl John Smith could see her face. It ha turned deathly white, and she wasgazin straight before her, past him, as if sh had forgotten his presence. His fac paled, too, as he looked at her. Presently the men began to move, an in his fear lest they should seo her, h spoke. "Havo you any friends in this place? he asked hurriedly. Sho turned slowly, as if it required violent effort of will to recall her to th present. "I havo my father," she said?"Mi Snaresbrook." "Mr. Snaresbrook!" ho echoed, thin! ing of that limp, senseless drunkard h had pulled out of the trough. This ma her father! Ho rembered at once tbn ho had been remarkably rough with, an even had had a strong desire to kick, he father. The tone of his voice and theexpressio on his faco told tho girl his thought: c-lw? I.ImcIiiuI worlnf?n Kittni* clinmft blush. John Smith could not look a her; ho stared helplessly about him, wor dering whom he could get to help hei The few dirty, untidy women who forme the female population of the place, ha\ ing grown tired of staring at her, wer gradually straggling off from the squari The proprietor of the "Red Unicorn" ha disappeared. IIo had a wife who, rumc whispered, was tho better horse. Prol ably at that moment he was being harar gued by the good woman in their privat apartment for some misdemeanor. Mi John Smith had seen her peremptoril beckon him away a few moments befon depriving him of tho enjoyment of Drive George's conversation. The mistress of tho "Red Unicorn" wa a shrewish, sharp tongued woman, wit a temper before which tho bravest mine who frequented tho house quailed. Sli was, however, honest and industrious.an probably her temper hail been spoiled b her surroundings?slatternly women an rough, dissolute men?for she had com from a respectable home in a quiet Enj lish village. Mr. Smith thought of hei and wondered why she had not comeoi to look after the passenger. Tho fai was, at that moment she was far too bus rating her husband at a back door, o the subject of Mr. Suaresbrook himsel: to attend even to lady passongers. Mr. Suaresbrook was lying, a forcib] and patent text to her sermon, a fe1 dozens yards from them, peaceful! slumbering under her pump. "If you like to have such things lyiu about as them, Joseph Kezah," she c: claimed, pointing at the unconscious an placid "thing" in question, "I don't! . pretty ornament it is to your kitchi gardin! Such sights ought to sham you! Why don't you turn him out: stamping her foot. "He's sorter comfortable and quit like just now," began her husband wit deprecating weakness. But his wit flounced away from him into the 1001 where she had been cooking the evenin meal, slamming the door behind her. Part of the domestic storm reache the ears of John Smith through the ope frontdoor. lie shrugged his shoulder: yet he felt tnat this woman was the onl friend with whom he could trust th girl. Happily he did not know that ; was the girl's own father who had raise thing more until he l'ound himself inside te the "Ited Unicorn," to which place of refuge lie had been conveyed by his do- m livcrers. K For a few moments he lay half stuuncd w, on the floor, where he had dropped on entering. Then ho struggled to liis feet m and found himself face to faco with one fli of his rescuers?the young man who bad rated his assailants so heartily. ci: "I hope they haven't damaged you much," he said, in a puro tone and Sr with a faultless accent?"the cowardly lie brutes!" be > the whirlwind. "Do you know where my father is?" y asked the girl anxiously, e "I?I don't think you can see him? h just yet. I'll go and find him for you," e lie said awkwardly. "But, if you will s wait here, I will call Mrs. Kczah." n The girl understood, and her lips v formed into the hard bitter line that the e thought of her father's degradation al;, ways brought there. Mr. Smith turned i. to go. But he suddenly stepped back, s "You heard what they said?jftout n . The body was found close to where e wo were that morning. I think it would s be wiser not to say that wo came that t way," he said, in a low constrained h voice, feeling unable to raise his eyes to a meet hers. j- She looked at him inquiringly. It was it strange, but as they talked of her father e sho had quite forgotten Thomas Cairnes. e It all came back to her now, however, d and her faco paled 6lowly with the same horror and fear that had fallen upon her it while listening to the conversation be1, tween the men. i- "You see"? he began, looking at >- her with eyes scarcely less troubled than g her own. y "I see," sho said, her eyelids drooping before his gaze, and her cheeks flushing with unutterable shame. k 3 CHAPTER V. 0 The Hon. Jack Newenham, after a S railway journey of nearly three days, J which scorching sun and dust by day 1 and stifling air at night made the most 3 wearisome he thought he had ever travP eled, arrived at Venneville, the town t where he was to take the stage coach for Deadman's Flat, about two hours after 3 it had started on its weekly journey to 1 that place. The prospect of spending a week at Venneville, apart from the de1 lay in fulfilling the object of his journey, was too intolerable to bo entertained for ' a moment. Further progress, however, 3 seemed difficult until he fell in with a party of men who were traveling in ' search of "luck," and then ho found the journey as pleasant as he had anticipated. Q. The out door life, the frank cordiality of ~ his companions?who, while they tacitly owned him their superior in birth and education, yet treated him with the K honest independence of their class? e made the time pass most enjoyably, and a ho felt quite sorry, when he parted from J them some miles east of Deadman's Flat, fr? mish on alone, thev makiner theirwav farther south. He entered Deadman's Flat about sunset, when there was apparently considq erablo excitement prevailing in the long, straggling "High" street, Red shirted miners were lounging or strolling about; gaudily dressed or slatternly women were shrilly discussing some event at p their cabin doors, while the children were scampering to and fro, getting into 0 everybody's way. The excitement was so great that even Jack Newenham did not arouse much curiosity as he passed up the street. After inquiring of a man standing at the door of his 6tore, he t made his way towards the "Red UniB corn," as being the only place where he could get food and accommodation for the night g As ho reached the square ho came upon a group of men who had just left s the "Red Unicorn." They were tho coms mittee men who had been elected to try 1 the case of Tom Cairnes'murder. Among the papers that had been searched dur3 ing the first inquiry, to find some clew 1 to his enemy, one had been overlooked, t It had been discovered that afternoon, r and it gave another turn to the affair, by proving that his enemy was not a townsman of theirs. This discovery was 1 all the more important, because it led to i the acquittal of a man who, in the zeal1 ous and unwise haste of one of the comt mittee men, hail licon arrested. Now, as this man was popular among his fcli low townsmen, his arrest had caused much ill feeling among them towards the unfortunate committeeman who had i suggested his guilt. The other members " wero all eager to make somo atonement > for their luckless colleague's blunder, e and they wero warmly?not to say nois1 ilv?discussing the case, when Newenham passed them. Overhearing somo of their words, ho stopped before them as [( they stood there, looking an excited and s rather wild group of men in tho dusk of e tho evening. "What is that you aro saying?" ho asked. "Is that scoundrel Tom Cairnes i. dead?" :, It was perhaps an unfortunate way of :- putting tho question; but Jack Newenit ham, tired, hungry, disgusted, was not o in the mood to act cautiously, if There was a murmur of disapproval d from the men. "Look hvar, young man," growled the y possessor of a remarkably forbidding d countenance?"a man that kin call a g murdered man names among his friends e don't allers find his company pleasin'!" e "Murdered! Is that what you call it? A righteous fate, I should say! It was d to see him that I came here; and I don't o mind telling you that it is ten to one that I should have put a bullet through him myself at the end of the interview!" The tempers of the committee men a having been inflamed by zeal for justice e and the copious draughts of whisky necessary to make up for the dryness of r. that afternoon's proceedings, and being further irritated by their lato failure, ; they were not in aframo of mind to bear e patiently this outburst of anger from a n total stranger. They felt to a man that it the honor of headman's Flat was being d outraged in their persons. 'r "Justice is not to be trampled u[>on, sorr!" said one, with as much dignity as n a strong Irish brogue and a most un?> steadily balanced frame would permit, d "Our late depoirtcd and much esteemed it townsman was kilt hv* his murderer l" whom justice seeks. lie shall die the death of a dog when lie is found!" <1 "Pity that any decent man should swing for such a brute!" returned the c youngEnglishman carelessly. He began " to see that his position was slightly ind secure, and inconsequence became inure >r dogmatic and daring. "Only aset ot Uut* > fers would convict him, to begin with!" l- This touched the committee men on ;o their sorest spot. r. "Sorr," cried the Irishman, wliose poy sition as spokesman was upheld by grunts j, and growls on the part of the others, ir "you spake like a toirant of the toirannical raci yo come from! What is Engis land but a tramplin', murdhering eounh tliry entoirelv! And you, sorr?with >r shame let it bespoke?are a blavguard!" ie The speaker wound up his speech with d so much energy that his body swayed y forward, and was brought into sharp d contact with Ncwenham, who, without i0 waiting to consider whether the blow r. might not have been accidental, hit out r, straight from the shoulder, and down it went the grandiloquent Irishman flat upon the ground. Ilis body was forgoty ten in tho conflict that ensued, for the a sight of their fellow committee man f, dropping down like a log before the slender, dandy looking aristocrat was more le than they could bear quietly and with iv one accord they fell upon him to avenge y tho cause of outraged law and order. Thero was a fierce, sharp struggle, g Xowenham, with one arm hitting out at c- every head that came conveniently witlid I in reach, and parrying a perfect storm (\ of savage blows with the other, though n fighting with all the pluck and dash of a ic race that has never yet owned itself beaten, could not have supported tho unequal contest another minute, when sud;t denly a new element mingled with the h fray. This was apparently friendly to e tho young Englishman; for in an unexu pected moment lie found himself supg ported by two men, one of whom, as he dealt out blows indiscriminately, hard angucd tho committee men, in a rough, n broad accent, as a set of bullying, cow<: ardly ruffians. The other said nothing; y but Newenham perceived that his blows e were no less forcible, although in bis it dazed condition be could see but little; in d fact, bo was scarcely conscious of any lie "/ hope they haven't damaged you much." P^ Newenham certainly did look rather m "damaged:" in fact, lie presented a cc most piliablo appearance, with a swollen nose and cut lip. his clothes nearly torn off his back, and one eye ca fast closing up. llo still retained . consciousness enough of what had "! happened to be slightly amused and ?r astonished at the difference between his m rescuer's present and past mode of expressing himself. Although his counteI ?: I ca LLiLLLUU ill ita Mi cauiiu tuuuniwa >v tio nica^/able of displaying much expression, it w: must havo betrayed his surprise, for tho ?v young miner bit bis lip, and, turning upon ? his heel, walked off to tho farther end of w tho room. m Newenham, however, found himself te' surrounded by other sympathizers. Mr. Kezah, popularly known as "Quaker ?jj Joe," having at last convinced himself jn that ho was not likely to hurt tho feel- ^ ings of tho committee men by attending te] to tho wants of tho man they had just re chastised, had come forward with 6ome brandy. Ono or two of the men attached ^ to the hotel also drew near to have a look at him, while a few straggled in from ^ tho bar room beyond. They were all dis- . persed, however, by a woman's shrill j? voice, which, beginning in some distant corner of tho house, became higher as it approached. It had a startling effect upon tho men present?they all fled before it; and by tho time tho lady herself ;n burst into the room not a soul was to bo vc seen but her legal lord and master and q( Jack Newenham and his other rescuer, v? Mr. Snnresbrook, who, seated on a box rjj closo by, had been watching with much interest the administration of the brandy. stJ In the confusion of tongues that fol- tjj lowed Mr. Snaresbrook stealthily appro- th priated the bottle, which still contained er some brandy, and retired into the gar- ?pj den. When ho was sought for a little 8j( later, he was found slumbering near tho ^ water butt?ho having been forbidden by ^ Mrs. Kezah ever to approach tho pump <jij again. Ho was clasping the empty ar brandy bottle tightly in his hand, and, as |e, they bent over him with a lantern, ho so stirred restlessly, opening his dull bleared nc eyes. . qt "Oh, what a weary world this is!" he said. "How it inakcsh a pcashablo man 0f long for quiet! Go 'long! I'm a peash- v; able" hc The hand that held the lantern was sharply thrust on ono side, so that its rays should no longer fall upon the bl spectaclo of degraded manhood. John ^ Smith, who held the lantern, understood tho reason of that bitter, passionate ges- j|, turo of the girl by his side. lie set tho jg. light gently down upon the ground and 0f] walked away through the dark garden. jc ou to tho road. Perhaps until that moment, when he had seen its effects in tho tjj agony and shame of the daughter's ges- el] ture, he had never understood to the full ^ the horrible degrading power of drink. m lie did not wait for the girl to join him, knowing that she would stay out j there in the lonely night till her drunken father should arouse himself sufliciently ^ to bo led back to the shed where, by the jl? charity of tho proprietor of the "Red jK Unicorn," he was allowed to sleep off the drunken fits of the day. Not till 8j1 then would she go back with weary feet and sad eyes to her own room. The j1( young man's face grew very gloomy in- Qj deed as he marched along the moonlit j1( road out to tlie distant miners' camp ^ where ho had made himself a home. ra CHAPTER VI. w Tho acquaintance struck up between he Jack Ncwenlmm and John Smith during hi the scuffle did not end with it. Smith es came into town from his "claim" away M in the mountains every day. Nobody hi but himself knew why he came, because af tho facilities for gambling, drinking and fighting, which were apparently the chief h? attractions to tho rest of his mates, were at never made use of by him. K If he generally came in the company Si of half a dozen miners bent "on the ev I spree," he nearly always went back dr alone; and it was noticed that he was he usually alone during tho hour or two ho stayed in tho town. Ho would, in a El lazy, indifferent fashion, drop off from w tho rest of the party when they reached ai: tho outskirts of tho town, and pursue his fo own course, which generally ended at 0f tho "Red Unicorn." There he lounged he about tho bar room, or leaned smoking tu against the.fenco that shut off the small he iuclosuro in front of the building from cc tho square until it was time to go homo. so It was here, rather earlier than usual, ui that Jack Newenham found him on tho cl evening aftei the scuflle. eel Tho young Englishman thanked him again for his aid, and Mr. John Smith \V received the thanks with coldness and ro curt indifference. That sudden glimpse gr of good breeding and education displayed te tho night before was the only one Jack br Newenham detected. To-night Mr. John go Smith was no different from tho men N< who surrounded him. Ho did not re- gj] I ceivo Jack Newenham's advances in a i friendly spirit?he even tried to repel ta | them. Hut Newenham, partly from th j gratitude, partly from curiosity, was de- gi I termincd to keep up tho acquaintance. cn IIo had tried to express a senso of his %v obligation to Mr. Snarcsbrook, who at tu least bore unmistakably the stamp of a fo gentleman. But during all that day Mr. as Snoresbrook had been simply incapable 01 of receiving any thanks for favors con- w ferred, and so Newenham had been ob- gt liged to defer his expression of gratitude til till a more convenient time. He began p; to speak of this gentleman to John Smith, j? when he had at last succeeded in show- ki ing the latter that he had no intention of h< being repulsed. j( "lie is a gentleman," ho said; "at least go I should judge so from what I saw and ti< heard of him last night." ?<TT? .. o-r...tl,,,...... " .1 axv ? U.T a ^jViiuvuuui, ? tin uiu unit answer, as John Smith knocked the to ashes from his pipe, preparatory to refilling it. Tho young Englishman gazed thought- fe fully across tho square, as ho leaned his |,j folded arms upon the fence. |,( i "Such a life as this must he something ^ i terrible to men who have been brought jj up in civilized surroundings," lie said, |1; abruptly. u, i IIo looked a little curiously at his companion as ho spoke; lie did not want to y( pry into his affairs, but he wondered |<> how he, who was evidently a gentleman, could bear life at I lead man's Flat; but ui i John Smith appeared thoroughly indif- r<i i ferent. in "There's something under it all," he t), answered carelessly, "which isn't as rot n as the surTace. 1 reckon you'll find e men aren't all brutes?and the wo en"? Ho stopped abruptly, for Mrs. ezah had appeared in the doorway and as bearing down upon them. "I hope sho isn't going to make a row," uttered John Smith, preparing for ght. Mrs. Kezah, however, was fairly patic and thoroughly anxious. "A pretty sort of man you are, John nith," she said, with much rustling of ;r starched cotton gown,.as she stopped tfcrothe two young men, "leading men perdition, as if they wasn't a-goin' cro fast enough of themselves, and aggin' sweet innocent girls, who ought have a 'orno like 'eaven for their goodiss, with them!" Jako Ncwcnham stared, considerably iwildered and astonished at this consed?if earnest?form of address; but r. John Smith apparently understood, r ho flushed and looked very uncomrtable. Mr. Snaresbrook had paid him i early visit at the camp that morning, id had requested to be allowed to sit in >hn Smith's cabin for a little while, to jep off tlio headache which his walk ider tho burning sun had given him. ihn Smith, knowing that there was (tiling more dangerous in the cabin an a little cold tea, had consented. rhen he returned from his work at >onday, ho found that Mr. Snaresbrook id decamped. With sundry misgivgs, and many prickings of conscience, ) had hastily searched a small hiding ace where he kept a trifling store of oney, and, as he had expected, not a nt remained. Mr. Snaresbrook had of iurse "made tracks" for tho nearest jottling works." The discovery had .used John Smith much uneasiness all ly. Between him and his work would so tho pale reproachful face of Snaresook's daughter. He felt that he was orally responsible for any state the mtirmed drunkard might now be in. jt for the uneasiness and discomfiture .used by this event ho would not have alked over to Deadnian's Flat that ening, for he had reasons of his own r not wishing to meet tho Englishman horn he had rescued from tho tender ercies of the Law and Justice commite. Mrs. Kezah's vehement reproaches nfirmed liis suspicions. He listened in ence as sho stormed at his wickedness giving money to such a guzzling, amcless creature, while his jioordaughr was breaking her heart over him alady. They had found out that he had ild that morning visit to the camp: and, he had not a penny when he started, id came home plentifully provided, ey all concluded that John Smith had ven him the means to indulge in his it vice 'And only last night he promised his >or dear daughter that he wouldn't ink another dropl He even gave her > every cent ho had, 60 as not to be led to temptation; and then the first thing >u do is to fling him into the mire again, a you call that generosity? 1 call it a iry bad piece of work indeed?down;ht disgraceful!" John Smith, taking all the circummces of the case into consideration, ought It was; but lie did not explain e situation, nor how little his own genosity had had to do with the matter. io loss of that small store meant conierablo disappointment to himself; but at did not for a moment trouble his oughts. He was abashed, confused, smayed. fie could think only of Elaine, id that, through his unpardonable care3SHCS3, he had added to her pain and now Newenham, although lie did it know the rights of the case, was lite sorry for him It cuts her to the quick?all because that solemn promise of his?the old llain!" exclaimed Mrs. Kezah. "And tre you are sticking here like a leech, lien she is wandering about the place try to bring home the wretch whose ood may he on your head! Where on rth is the man going to now?" While Mrs. Kez-ah spoke, John Smith, rusting his pipe into his pocket, had iped over the fence, and was striding f towards tho long red road, which the irkness would soon hide from view. "What a firebrand he is!" exclaimed e good woman, turning to Jack Newiham; but that young man was also sappearing over the fence, and a few oments later she saw him join John nitli, so she retired into tho building, aking her head doprecatingly. John Smith's opinion of her had not ien far wrong. When ho had found ir, at the end of that stormy scene with sr partner, and had explained tho oontion of the friendless traveler outside, e had first declared that no power on rth would induce her to receive into ;r house tho daughter of 6uch a drunken d scoundrel. John Smith's entreaties, iwever, uttered with all the old grace at had once made it so easy for him tc in Ojiuo'Q u'Aninn 4r? n vnrr fllffpVftnt nk, had some effect upon her. She ent out to see tho "minx," as she called ;r, and then tho "minx" did tho rest for trsolf. Half an hour later Elaino was tabiished in tho "Red Unicorn," with rs. Kezah fussing about her as if she id been her own daughter, restored ter a long absence. Mr. Snaresbrook himself 6cemed to ive taken up his quarters for good tho "Red Unicorn," in spito of Mrs. ezah's endeavors to keep him out. nee tho arrival of his daughter, bower, she had made no further attempt to ive him away, and she even confined :r abuse of liim to his own ears. Jack Newenham had not yet 6een laine. He 6imply concluded that she as one of tho loud voiced, red cheeked id gaudily dressed young women who rined tho marriageable lady population Deadman's Flat; and, when ho saw >w much John Smith had been disrbed at tho thought of having wounded ir feelings, ho felt sorry for him. He iuld not help thinking that thero was mething more in tho young < man's ental disturbance than the simple livalrous vexation at having disappoint1 a woman. lie felt more sorry than ever for him hen he overtook him on tho red, dusty ad, and saw how palo his faco hud own. This convinced him that tho inrest John Smith took in Miss Snaresook must be very strong indeed. Siuitli eined to know where ho was going, so * ? I - ? 1 ... t. . 1 ewennam let mm mono anu luurcuuu Icntly by liis side, both men smoking. John Smith walked on for some disnee, paying but very little attention tc e sceno around him; perhaps he hail own accustomed to such sights, for In iiue by this road every day that lie alkedoverto Dead man's Flat. Suddenly ruing an abrupt bend in tho road, they und themselves at the foot of a steep cent, on the summit of which, clearly itlined against the yellow evening skv, as tho slender ligure of a girl, who was anding quite still, looking away from icni. There was something 60 intensely ithetic in her patient attitude that even ick Newcuham, although ho did not low what vigil she was keeping, felt his ;art softened at tho sight. As for Mr. )hn Smith, ho muttered something that iundcd remarkably liko an impreca3n, and proceeded hastily to mount the eep incline. Sho heard their approach and turned > look at them. The first glimpse Jack Newenham obined of her face dispelled at onco all - - ? ?. 1 J! i clings or surpnsu at uuu uiauppiuwii v? a companion's taste; the second glimpse 5 obtained ns lie stood by her sido and ,w the flush with which sho greetod r. Smith made the lattcr's trouble at iving pained her seem perfectly natal Not wishing to be in tho way, the mug Englishman turned his back and ukcd discreetly about him; in doing i lie came face to face with a new feat in tlie landscape. Sitting by the iad side, his long legs stretched limply the dust, his back propped up against ie great heap of broken rock which crowned the summit, was Mr. Snaresbrook. There was a vacant look in the mild gaze of his fine blue eyes; but Newenbajn, seeing that they were turned full I upon himself, felt bound to make some 1 sort of greeting, urged perhaps by the ]) awkward silence that reigned between the young couple behind him. "CJood evening, sir." he said politely. T Mr. Snaresbrook, vaguely recalling the courtesies of the days when lie "was a gentleman," mado an unsteady inclination of his body, and with a violent effort rose to his feet. C( "(5lad to see you," he said affably. 'Fini' view from here?peaceful rest, ^ evening sunshine. My daughter?'low () me to introduce you, sir?and J come to enjoy the 'feet of peaceful sunset. Bv lieorge, sir. they talk so much of that v low murder down there that wo can't g stand it?we como out here for a little h peace sind beauty 1" tl Newenhaui made some suitable reply <-'< and tried to continue the conversation; P l>ut the intensely bitter look of reproach a cast at himself and John Smith by the ^ girl when she slightly acknowledged her r< father's introduction made the effort difficult Nor did the scraps of conver- ^ sation between the other two which ho u unavoidably overheard make his polite commonplaces easier to utter. I le wished | he had stayed and talked to Mrs. Kezah. (>( "Why did you come?" the girl ex- (j claimed in a hard tone. "You came to look for us. I know. Why did you do it?" / t< " Why did you comef" j John Smith felt a difficulty in replying without alluding to the degradation of t! . the gentleman who was so cheerfully, if fl indistinctly, discussing the view with i; Newenham a few paces from them. Per- it haps his silence touched her. She sud- 1; denly changed her tone. <> "We are going back now," she said S with a false cheerfulness; "we were tired and sat down here to rest. Is that your C claim away down there?" ,s She pointed to where the road dipped 0 abruptly, again winding down among the red pines; from where they stood they could catch a glimpse of a clearing !' which sho had been looking at when they j came up. The color rushed swiftly into his face and as quickly died away. She jj had been looking for his claim! () "Yes," ho returned briefly, feeling unable to say any more. > "I think wo will go," she said. 0 "Father"?stepping over to Mr. Snares- j. brook and laying a slender hand ap- C pealingly upon his trembling arm?"will you come now?" t< I "Certainly, my dear! Shentlemen''? si with mucli dignity, leaning heavily on 1 tho arm which had been slipped within V his?"I hopsli to have the pleasuro of H seeing you both soon; if you will dine P j with us, my daughter" )' "Come, father," she interposed gently; 1! then with a grave bow to the young men e sho drew him forward. Tho road before them looked gray and !' ' lonely in tho dusk, and Deadman's Flat 11 was a good way off. As tho two men ,l drew back to let tho girl pass on with ' tho helpless, half drunken father, New- v enham remonstrated. 0 "You won't let them go alone!" ho ex- j( claimed in a quick low tone. "See how j, dark it is getting; and it will bo late be- c fore they get to Deadman's Flat!" t; "Sho wishes it," said John Smith 1 ' curtly. si Ho preferred to fall in with her wishes t< on thisoccasion, for alwaysafter thofirst b few moments, when, perhaps under tho v impulse of sudden sympathy, they met 11 and spoko frankly together, a feeling of e constraint would fall upon them and t they would 6eem to shrink from each b other. y It was a relief to him to see her pass Cl | I down tho road, where tho fast gathering ? shadows would soon sliut her out from his sight. Jack Newcnham, however, i, thinking of lier?unprotected, young, ^ beautiful?and of tho possibility of her u meeting on that long, lonely road any of {] those rough, perhaps drunken miners, a with only that wretched father to pro- j. tect her, could scarcely l>o prevented tl from rushing after them. t; When lie gave Jus reason lor wisning to do so, John Smith looked at him in ^ half amused, half impatient wonder. b "Those men harm herl Why, there C isn't ono who wouldn't walk twenty milts T ' to help herl" d [TO UK CONTINUED XKXT WKKK] || The ."Mother's Ilonio Iulluence. i If a mother does; not lay aside her courtesy j, ! with her company dress, if a father is as ro* flned in sjieecii when tho door lias closed after , the guest as he was when they conversed to- j' gether, tho child will learn to be habitually * ! polito and modest. For good manners aro v better taught by example than by precept V i Tho woman who wroto tho "'Practical 11 Thoughts of a Mother," says sho bos often g noticed that girls who have grown up in re- 1) tirement aud simplicity have shown, when v pluced in the great world, sueu elegant, rati. x and behavior as to astonish high l>orn ladies. f "Where lias the little 0110 learned it?" cx1 claims somo one of thoin. "She liehaves like o I | a queen;and inv daughter, who has been edu- ~ ! cated in Paris, only just look at her! there ^ sho stands and turns her back to that lady; how improper 1" c The mother docs not reflect that her I1 daughter has been taught many rules of bo- J' huvior, but retains very few. But "tho lit- 11 tie ono" has imbibed courtesy with tho air of her homo. Her mother lias taught her few <) rules of politeness, but has set an examplo of Ii i high bred courtesy. Tho girl has acquired li i so unconsciously tho art of polite behavior e ! that sho feels what is and what is not "good p j form." 5l | In her homo sho has never known a word, S( I a look, an uct, that differs from the acts, ^ , words and looks used in polite society. When f sho lirst stepped from her father's house into ' an assembly room where well bred people ' ' had gathered, sho simply transferred herself to a larger but not different sphere. Her requests are entreaties, favors are rcturnd by i I thanks, little acts of service lire dono quietly, 1 as a matter of course, and a.spirit of kindness J' aud consideration is associated with all sho 1! says and does.?Youth's Companion. <1 Society's Pet Polble. J'j Tho 'cynic wants to know what is gained t* for any rational being when a city full of i; ; women undertake to make and receive fori mal visits with persons whom, for tho most tl part, they do not wish to see. What is . j gained, he asks, by leaving curds with ull j theso peoplu and receiving their cards? When e I ? ??"'! "? !???? fnilinnu foinuk wliv {<] ' U ? slio always relieved to liial peojilo not in I { When she ean eount upon her ten lingers tho jH'ople she wants to see, why should she protend to want to see others/ Is any one do- '' ceived by it/ Does unybody regard it as | anything but n shain nnd a burden/ f< Much the eynio knows about it! Is it not fi ( necessary t> keep up what is called society? il I Is it not necessary to have an authentic list ti of jMistebourd acquaintances to invite to ro- li ' ceptions/ And what would beconio of us j| > without receptions/ Everybody likes to give ] j them. Everybody flocks to them with great j| alacrity. When society calls tlie roll, wo all y > know tho penalty of being left out. Is there | any intellectual or physical pleasure equal to : jj that of jamming so many people into a liouso , that they can hardly move, and treating ' them to a ilalx'l of noises in which no one }j con make hersdf heard without screaming/ ' There is nothing like a reception in any uncivilized country. It is so exhilarating!? -S( i Harper's Magazine. O Ilotcis of (Travel. t ,?: wi W YlfiKVILLl ID LIVERPOOL 1 of ETA 1 LEI) ACCOUNT OF AN OCEAN VOYAGE. j , . .III ho Washington Monument?Fair- ; IJ mount Park?The "City of Home"? ! ga Leaving New York?Among the lee- I de hergs?Taking Temperature of the | j(J Water and Speed of the Vessel?Sea- J sickness?Arrival at Liverpool. I ^ )rrei>|Kiiiil?ncc of the Yorkvillc Enquirer. j LiVKKitioh, Kngland, July <>.?It sj, 'as on June ill), when, after nunier- an us hand-shakings and hearty good- sa< yes from a host of friends in Yorkille, with min^leil feelings of re- jJa ret and pleasant anticipations, I wj oiirded the south-hound passenger co 'ain on the Three ("s railroad. A in mifortahle ride of thirty minutes de laced me in the "Magic City," and to 14.80 p. m., I was speeding toward wi l/Yivdiin<rfnn I) (' which eitv iras no ? ^ " ^ |'*? cached next morning at H o'clock, on Proceeding to tin? department of Sc tate?passport division?I called pon the Hon. James G. Blaine, sec- Gf Btary of State, who politely gave his jls ttention while I made known my sp usiness, signed my passport, reliev- m il me of a dollar, and hid me "good ja, ay." jp With only a short time at my dis- j)t' osal and considerable hesitation as to i how I would use it, no sooner had ] stepped out of the grand building ta uin the first object that caught my te ye decided the question. The Wash- w igton Monument was the most con- or picuous object in sight, and to the )p of it I concluded to go. At the vf ase r?f the shaft I was informed by ]0, lie keeper that I could go up either a y the stairway or by means of the j)L levator. 1 chose the latter, for it ev )oked like it would have made a th uu) tired to walk over the distance w, 11 level ground. The elevator afirds standing room for twenty-two i0 icn; but only eleven ladies?when n ustles are ripe. The ascent was co aide in eight minutes, and when we th eached the top we were oCo feet th hove the surface of the earth. The jn iew of the city and surrounding a, ountry is magnificent, hut I won't ta ttempt to describe it. I can't. Men te working at the foot of the monument joked like mere pigmies, less than j ighteen inches high. Going down, ^ decided to use the iron stairway, rpj nd by actual count, learned that ; here were 81)1) steps in the long spiral ()j light. The base of the monument ja i &"> feet square, and the outside is 11 marble, while the inside is most- r y of granite. In the construction ^ f this monument, nearly all the ^ tates and Territories, as well as sev- SJ] ral foreign governments, have each ontributed a stone with their re- j1( pective coats of arms and mottoes :u ngraved thereon, and the effect and J()1 rrangement is both pleasing and in- ^ CrUSllllg. IIICIII 1111/ IIIOU 41 ,,, umber of stones that have been con- m ributed by private individuals and usiness firms. On one 1 noticed a ucomotive, beautifully cut and stand- h ng out in l)old relieb It is carved 11 a single solid block of pure white ^ narble, and was presented by It. t sorris A Co., of Philadelphia. Anther conspicuously handsome stone i the gift of the F. and A. Masonic x Jrand lodge of Virginia. w From the monument I went over m 0 the Pennsylvania depot and was ^ oon hurrying away to the City of j,, irotherly Love. Finding it rather rarm in the city, I went out to Fairnount park. This is the largest deasure grounds, of the kind, in the rorld, and contains 2,8(H) acres. It 1 commonly designated as one of the leven wonders of America. Among w, lie objects that particularly attracted ,{ ny attention at this place, was an e roil tower, situated on Lemon hill, nd commanding a fine view of the A urrounding country, for miles and dies. From the top of the tower, ' ,'hich is .'140 feet above the river, the (p bserver can trace the Schuylkill be- {<(' >w as it describes a huge and almost i erfect S. The Delaware is also in rfc, lose proximity. This tower con- w litis 230 tons of iron and cost SO"),000. 'lie park is the daily resort of thou- * inds of people of all sorts seeking sn miporary relief from the stir ami ' i ustle of the crowded city. While I jt ;as there I saw a large party of j? lutes?thirty-five girls and hfty-sevn boys?all between the ages of welveand eighteen. Another sight, io, ladies, that will shock you ; but ~ ou need not blush, for it is very ra oninion?a number of young ladies 111 iding bicycles just like the boys. a(i 'hey were dressed in ordinary habit iJ nd were enjoying themselves huge- I c. It would probably take a long line to get accustomed to such an nusiml sight as this, hut I don't "v hink we would notice it much after residence of a few years there. The .1 idies seem to excuse themselves with 1,1 he explanation: "I know it's naugh- J'1 y, but it's nice." j" Next morning I went over to New } fork, and after attending to some ?? usiness there, crossed over to Jersey Jity and took the New York, Lake V'<J ]rie and Western railroad for Midleton, N. Y., where I spent two , ays with relatives. Middleton is a eautiful little city of about 1(!,<H)() t" 11 habitants, does a great deal of ?>l nanufacturing and is growing rapid- a y. J went through one hat factory here which alone turns out over six undred dozen hats per day. While 01 here I visited the insane asylum, 1,1 rhich, like everything else in this ronderful country, is well worth go- ')l ug to see. The buildings and s|' rounds seem to lack nothing that uman skill and ingenuity can de- w ise for the comfort and diversion of ')l he unfortunate inmates, of whom here are five hundred. ^ I returned to New York on the 4th ultimo and spent two days sight .Mii.wr ; ! tiuit /'itv Ammitr other rtJ Iiings, I visited Hie Brooklyn bridge, *h nd truly this is the most wonderful . tiece of human skill it has ever been }n uy privilege to see. Description is 111 inpossible. It must be seen to be t><; ppreeiated. The bridge is one and 811 ne-eighth miles long, resting on liers 27S feet high, and is supported 1)1 y four steel wire cables, each eight- |lI en inches in diameter, it is illu- 1,1 uinated by 08 electric lights, which ()1 lone cost $4n per night. Foot pas- NV engcrs are charged one cent toll, and 111 he fare across on the cars is only tlj hree cents. It is possible for 100,000 ^ icople to pass over every hour. 'l' From there I went to Greenwood *h emetery, which is said to be the Q' uost beautiful burial ground in unerica. It contains Goo acres and 80 egularly employs 470 men in keepug it up. It is laid off in walks and f'1 rives without number, and contains 1,1 undreds of marble vaults that cost ra roni twenty to fifty thousand dollars ar acli. The average daily interment * 1 * seventeen. !l* After visiting several art galleries ?.1 nd other places of interest, I went own to see the steamship City of (." tome, upon which I was to sail, and 1,1 mud that famous vessel in every w articular the wonderful craft that it I,M ad been described. The gross regis- J11 cred tonnage is 0,410 tons, length 010 ',( ?>et, width 02 feet 0 inches, depth of old 40 feet, height of mainmast 132 }n . et. She has four masts and three ')l imiiels. The engines are of 10,000 w udicated horse-power, and burn .'DO n( >ns of coal ner day. The ship i? f'1 ighted with electric lights. ()n the ".l romenadedeck is the drawing room, ^ (X) feet long, handsomely trimnod in white and gold, and furnished 111 ,'ith lounges and magnificent pianos ll' nd organs. In the centre is a sky- w iglit, around and under which hang 0(1 enutiful hot house plants enough to nake one think he is in a park. Je. 'here are state-rooms and berths nougli to accommodate SIM) first and econd cabin passengers, and the sec- 1'' nd officer told me that they were I full. Jn addition to those then :>re 7(H) steerage passengers, which ith the crew, consisting of ofli rs and men, made the total num r of persons on hoard 1 ,#:}!). Mor< an the total population of the towi Yorkville! Wo lifted anchor on the 2(ith o ine at l..'lo n. in., and set sail fo verpool. Thousands of people hac thered on the wharf to watch tin 'parting steamer. Some througl le curiosity, and some to eatcl ery stray penny that is at all get able; and still others to hid good e to friends and relatives. Tin fht was interesting and impressive <1 1 thought I heard many deep aiu [I sighs on the boat that must hav< and answer on the' shore. Tin lies on the dock knotted tliei ndkerehiefs into long streamers tiicli, tied to their umbrellas, the? ntinued to wave as long as we wen sight. A gentle tap on my shoul >r :inrl n follow missenirer wantei know if I did not have a farewel ive of the handkerchief or kiss a rting. I told him that the love< ios in my case were away down ii iuth Carolina. Three days out at sea and we wen f the coast of Newfoundland, id gotten pretty well used to th :uation, and found the time pass ol ost pleasantly. Near Newfound nd we found ourselves in the vicin p of icebergs, for which the sailor gun to maintain a sharp lookout guard against possible collision le temperature of the water wa ken at frequent intervals. The firs st indicated (?2 degrees, and after i hile it was found to he down to 14 dy 12 degrees above the freezinj >int. At this the sailors hecanv >ry active and still more watchful >t they should suddenly run int< huge mass of floating of ice. J icket was let down into the wate ery few minutes and tested witl e thermometer. At length th ater began to grow warmer and the; lew the danger was over. The fol wing night was very foggy, and th ixt peril to he guarded against wa llision with other steamers. A1 rough the night the deep tones o e fog horn were incessant, disturb g our sleep and producing curiou id indescribable feelingsofan uncer in dread of something?we couldn' 11 what. The speed of the vessel is taken a tervals of every few hours durinj e day by a very simple method lie process requires the services c x sailors. They go to the rear en< the deck, and two of them hold; rge spool, or reel, upon which i rapped a cotton rope about lial i inch in thickness, and graduate / means of pieces of red tape. T ie end of the rope is attached nail V-shaped canvas bag abou n inches in length. Another sailo >lds an hour glass which contain st enough sand to run seven sec ids. When all is ready the bag i irown into the sea and, filling witl ater, pulls back from the shij lie rope unwinds with the motion id when the sand runs out, the rec stopped. The tape indicates th stance traveled in seven second? id the speed is easily calculated 'e were found to be making si.\ en knots per hour?about eightee ul a half miles. Among the sights it was our foi me to see on the trip, were tw hales. While below decks on Sal day, we suddenly heard the cr love: "A whale! a whale!" Itusl g 011 dock we saw two of the hug ousters slowly plowing their wu /er the surface of the sea and ever; w minutes spouting up great co nns of water into the air. In crossing the Atlantic 011 a larg :ean steamer, one sees a miniatur presentation of the world. ()n thi lyage I think I saw men and worn 1 of nearly every nationality, air lite a number who do not belon: any, but just come along to mak > a crowd of "all sorts." Sunday, June .'!(>, was a miserabl ty so i'ar as the weather was con rned. It continued to rain nearl; 1 day, but in the afternoon we ha< ligious services in the cabin, ii hich a large number of the passen rs took part. They sang the fn iliar old hymn, "Jesus, lover of 111; ul." Several hundred voices join I in, and 1 thought I never hear sound sweeter or more strange); lpressive. On Monday we ran into water tha ipeared to be somewhat troubled p to this time I had been feeling tir> te, and had begun to think tha ine was not one of those weak stoni lis that was subject to sea-sicknes? lie steamer began to pitch and roll Ii! it was fun for some of the younj! ers; but not so with me. I bega: feel a peculiar sensation about th omach, that organ seeming to be i mpathy with the tossing of th lip. Sick? Ah no?rather plea.* g: but as time and the ship rolle 1, it "got no better fast." in a fe\ ?nr< th<? gentle nleasinar sensatio: id developed into a full growi omach hurricane. In South Cart 11a there is a disease anions cattk unnionly known as blind staggers think that was what was the mat rwith me. At first I was afraid as going to die; hut after awhil lat apprehension had undergone adual radical change, and I wa raid that I wouldn't die. But >t well, which was better; althoug confess that this alternative neve curred to me until it had been a! ost consummated. While in the vicinity of the ici ?rgs I was asked, "What if th earner goes down ?" I replied thu icre was one consolation, and thu as the fact that there would be 011 ir-room less in the world, for of al ie disgusting drinking I have eve en, that on hoard of the vessel wa ie worst. It was a regular float in, tr-room ; men and women makin gular hogs of themselves, drinkin ie nasty filthy grog. July 2nd and fird passed withou icident worthy of mention, exceji cessant raining, and July 4 wa mspicuous for the absence of th nail hoy with his fire-cracker? n this * occasion he was reall, issed, for I never saw a place mor ipropriate for the fire-cracker bu? iess. We touched at Queenstowi 1 the afternoon of July 4, am hile transferring passengers am ails on the Queenstown tendei ie fast mail steamer, City of >>"e\ ork, hove in sight. This steame ft New York thirty minutes befor ie City of Home, and we heat her t< ueenstown by thirty-five minute? fter putting off the mails and pa? ngers, we again steamed out fo iverpool, hut it was not long befor e City of New York was again I10 our wake, and we had an excitiiij ce to the final landing, both steamer riving in port about the same time stepped 011 English soil on July;" 8 a. in., and have at last gratitiei ie of the greatest desires of 111; "e, entertained from my earliest rei lection. As yet, 1 have seen 110th g about Liverpool particularl; urthy of note, except its large am assive houses and nine miles of th lest docks in the world. Custon >uso officers and boot blacks seem t rm, by far, the largest part of th ovable objects. These latter pest 'set the newly arrived passenger itli a persistency that is most an >ying. One little fellow would no ;.?lr ,,f t.iUmr 0,,#0> for on niKvriH 1II1IV \JL Ufa nvr IVI UI4 (U1.MI VI it continued to follow after me un I at last I told him I would let hin iimnie a shine," if he would wai itil I tfot ready, which would b tout tliree days. He took me at in; ord, and shouldering his traps, act I as though he really intended t uy with ine until I ready. 1 ifow-coinpanion finally persuade in to "come off." I will leave Liverpool for Londo lis afternoon. T. HaxtKit McClain. P r.Acin A.IU riubiuvj. , Mr. J. R. McLendon, of Georgia, - gives the following facts and figures - to the Atlanta Journal, concerning b the value of cotton and jute bagging, i and the great advantages to he gained by the use of cotton bagging inf stead of jute. He says: r I f the cotton crop of 1.88!) is as large 1 as that of 1.888,4!),000,000 yards of bag3 ging will be required to wrap the crop, i If the cotton is wrapped in jute, $4,i 000,000 will pass oujt of the planters' - hands. If the crop is wrapped in cotton b bagging, $4,900,000 will remain inside , the lines of the cotton States to bead1 ded to the circulating medium. b The making of 49,000,000 yards of b cotton bagging will consume 100,000 r bales of cotton, which decreases the 1 j iiuin ut*r ?JI iKiifrs mi 11ini KI'L uiiu t-ii' hances the value of the remainder 1 c cent per pound, making the gain to - tli<? cotton planters $8,(520,000. The J. It. Adams factory win put a 1 hale of cotton into its spinning room t for $(5.77 less than it can he laid down I in Lowell, Mass. i If the cotton was spun in the South, $17,890,000 would lie saved in freight e charges, etc. I A better day is coming, for in 1887 e the product of the Southern cotton f mills was $48,000,000 against $21,000, 000 in 1880. 11 is a fact worthy of strong emphas sis that cotton mills are increasing , more rapidly in the South than any. where else. s ('ommon sense will at no distant day t compel the spinning of raw material ii where it can lie done the cheapest. ; The way to have goods cheap is to X make them at the least expense, e The cotton crop of 1889, if sold as , heretofore, will give the planters i) $.'500,(KM),(MM). If wholly manufacturl ed in the South the great sum of r $1,(MM),000,0(M). i The difference in the price of the e raw material and that of the manuv' factured article is$7(m),(mm),(mm) in favor - of the South. e Xo other country in the world s could have existed as long as the 1 Soutli has under such a system of f drainage. ?- God hasten the day when the farms ers of these United States will re ceive just profits for their products. Farm Life is China.?A fart mer may he hired by the year for rr from eight to fourteen dollars, with I. food, clothing, head shaving and to,f bacco. Those who work by the day \ receive from eight to ten cents, with a a noonday meal. At the planting s and harvesting of rice wages are from f ten to twenty cents a day, with five [j meals, or thirty cents a day without o food. Few land owners lure hands a except for a few days during the t planting and harvesting of rice. r Those who have more than they and s their sons win till, lease to their neigh.. bors. Much land is held on leases s given by ancient proprietors to clansh men whose descendants now till it. paying from seven to fourteen dollars' worth of rice annually for its use. ?| Food averages little more than one e dollar a month for each member of a t farmer's family. One who buys, h cooks, and eats his meals alone, spends :1 from a dollar and a half to two dolii lars a month upon the raw material and fuel. Two pounds of rice, cost> ing three and one-half cents, with relo ishes of salt fish, pickled cabbage, t- cheap vegetables and fruits, costing y one and one-half cents, is the ordi[. nary allowance to each laborer for e each day. Abernethy's advice to a y luxurious patient: "Live on sixy pence a day and earn it," is followed [. by nearly* every Chinaman. One of two dependent relatives frequente ly share with him the sixpence. (S la How to Sell Goods.?"How to i. sell goods?" repeated a New York ri merchant after a Star reporter. "It -? ' fPk.if +1,0 Jf (lt()L'IHlS 11113 Ulilll. -l licit i.-j cut e whole .secret. Like the old parody on Victor Hugo, "If you want to be a (? pood sidesman, you must educate i- your grandmother." A pood salesy man is horn, not made. In the first [l place you must be able to 'size up' ti your purchaser all throuph. If you |. tell a racy story to a church deacon, [. or if you offer a Prohibitionist candiit date for justice a drink out of your i- private bottle, or if you try to pet the j village freethinker to direct you to a y prayer-meeting, you will make an expensive mistake. You must, like St. t Paul, be all things to all men, and, I more than that, the right things to the right men. You can't sell two j men in the same way. You must attack each man differently. You must . catch a man when he is not busy and I* when he is not tired. When you do ,1 go for a man go for him horse, foot 'n and dragoons. Don't give him a e chance to get away from you, but hold u on to him until you land him. You (l must be prepared for every possible reception and every possible and impossible objection, and suddenly you .. find you have sold a big bill, and you tl have to go over the thing slowly af(1 terward to find out how you did it." Don't Know It All.?Some one ;' says you might read all the books in the British museum, if you could live long enough, and remain utterly an illiterate, uneducated person. e Then, again, if you read ten pages in a good book, letter by letter?that is j to say, with real accuracy?you are forevermore, in some measure, an ed* ucated person. It is only in a measl ure that a person can lie educated. When there were but few books it was possible for one person to know '* their contents. Science has widened ? and the butter of intelligence must be spread thinner. The ripe scholar l* is one who is ready to drop off. On** ly boarding school girls finish their " education. The bald headed profesr sor, who has been studying all his s life, feels confoundedly ignorant in * the face of many things he does not n know. A child can ask him ques? tions he cannot answer. The young mangoes to college to be educated. l| The most college can do for him is to put him 011 the road leading to knowl s edge. It takes everybody to know e everything, and very little of any' thing is yet known. Hun away from V the man who claims to know' it all. 0 He will make ^*ou tired exposing his '* ignorance.?[NewOrleans Picayune. 1 Dancikk khom Electric Lights. i Recently, Evansville, Indiana, was * * * * * 1 al 1 "? visited i?y u neavy nun ami uiuihutv storm, doing considerable damage. r About K) o'clock at night, when the o power at the electric light plant for o street illumination was turned on, ' numerous wires which had been ?- blown down, charged buildings and i* pools of water in the street with elee0 tricity. Fire a foot high was emitted t in places, causing an alarm to be ? sounded. The tire department re* sponded, and being unaware of the ' condition of things, rushed into what s was almost certain death. Horses 1 and firemen alike were knocked y down by electricity. Others rushed into a building that was apparently - on tire, only to be thrown violently V down. Citizens rushed in and met a similar fate, and the excitement e ran high. A messenger hastened to 11 the station and had the electricity l) shut off and then the work of resuse citation began. No lives were lost. S ? s Abolish- thk Pistol.?The ini vention of the pistol is the most sat tanic of inventions. If it had not liium fur tlw? nwtnl it i>< liL'flv tlmt t- Abraham Lincoln, James A. Garfield n antl thousands of others would be t alive to-day. Next to alcohol itself, e the pistol is the most frequent oecay sion of murder. The very fact that a man knows that he has a pistol in o his pocket tempts him to act the bulV ly. Many a man who has not the il open bravery to strike his foe with Ins fist, will resort to the cheap 11 I ?ra very of drawing a concealed pistol, and craven ly take advantage of fore