Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 24, 1889, Image 1
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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