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LEWIS M. GRIST, Proprietor. j %\\ Jndcpendcnt J-'amilij Uciuspapcr: gm the promotion of the political Social, Agricultural and Ofommercial Jnterests of the ,?outh. |terms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL. 35. YOEZYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28, 1889. NO. 35. t i . .... .. ~. ~, CHEQUE A FASCINATING R0& SUB By the Author of " By Cn in Velve CHAPTER VL The next day or two I was busy enough making arrangements for my long absence f rom London. Among other things I telegraphed to our head man at Montreal to come home at once to look after things when I was away. Then I had to contrive to pay that fivo hundred pounds to Benson, the detective, in such * a manner as to avoid arousing suspicion, besides settling up and giving my decision on a thousand and one other matters on which the master's word is needed. My time was so fully occupied that 1 was only able to get up to Kentish Town onoe between Cynthia's visit on the Wednesday and the day I had arranged for the marriage, and even then I was only able to spend an all too brief hour with her. On the Saturday morning Horace knocked at my door a little before the time for leaving, and asked to be allowed to speak to me privately. This was the first time we liad met face to face since our stormy encounter on Tuesday evening. I had written a full withdrawal of and apology for my accusation, thinking to spare us both the awkwardness of a personal interview on the matter?for 1 was obstinate enough to think him still the sinner and Cynthia the sinned against in the whole matter, and I would not risk a discussion, fearing I might be led into an expression of my opinion. Consequently, when Horace asked to see me on the Saturday morning, I was unpleasantly surprised, and gave a rather grudging assent to his request "I shall not keep you five minutes, Mr. Quinton," he said, still with that same sullen defiance in his manner which had been so noticeable at our last interview; WWII 1 U?v? IV V^Ul UCMIU 1U Cfc *w; few words. I wish to leave your employment, and the sooner you can arrange it the better pleased I shall beindeed, if it won't inconvenience you at all, I should prefer not to come to the office again." I looked at him with what I could not help feeling was a ludicrous stare of perplexity. Here was a new and unexpected complication. "Sit down, Horace, and let me know what this is about. What is your reason for wishing to leave the firm?" "Why," he answered, in a faltering voice, first speaking a few words very hurriedly, but without expression, as if he had learned them by heart, and then stammering over the next few as though he were asliamed of what he was saying ?"why, the fact is, I can't stand the hints and sneers of the men in the office any longer. I can see that they all believe me guilty about that cheque business; and of course it is impossible that I should be openly exonerated by a public declaration of the real?of the truth, so that I think it best for all concerned that I should leave. Only I do hope, Mr. Quinton, that in your recommendation to my next employer you will make him understand that I am innocent of this crime of which they suspect me." I felt the hot blood rush to my face as he 6poke; it was strange how my dislike for this boy clung to me through everything. "It is not likely that I should knowingly let the innocent suffer for the guilty, Horace. Although you seem to hint it, you cannot really believe it I am disposed to think you are mistaken in your leading fact. I don't think the man in tlm L*nniv nnrfhint* nt. nil about the matter you spoke of, and I certainly don't see why they should associate you with it in any way, even if they did know. Try to shake off the morbid fancy and make yourself contented." "There is no morbid fancy in it," he answered, doggedly. "There has been a detective asking some curious questions of young Phillips?the man who works at the same desk with me?-and yesterday old Lebens heard of it and said he thought he knew what the detective was driving at, for he had heard from one of the bank clerks that there was something wrong with one of Mr. Quinton's private cheques. 'I suppose that was the detective who called here on Wednesday morning,' he said?'the morning your sister was here, Debenham.' There was nothing in the words. I know," added Horace; "but from the way they were spoken and the queer look he gave me, 1 saw he had some suspicion in his mind. The others looked at me too, and there was an awkward silence when Levens had finished speaking, and I could see that they scented something wrong somewhere and that I was mixed up in it somehow; so I think I'd better go?I should l>e more comfortable elsewhere." As he finished speaking a sudden idea occurred to ma "You had a great wish to go abroad after your father's death, Horace; have you that wish still?" He looked at me inquiringly. "Because, if you have," I went on, "I think I can help you. How would you like to go out to our Melbourne house for a year or two?" The cloud on his face lifted as if by magic. "Do you really mean L, Gerald?" he cried, forgetting in his delight the stiff "Mr. Quinton" which had so amused me. "It would bo the best turn you could possibly do me." "When could you be ready to sail?" "Ready? Now I On Monday?any time you like to name!" "Nay, nay; stay and see Cynthia and me made one first," I said, smiling at his quickly fired enthusiasm. "The Sorata sails on Wednesday, and you could overtake her at Plymouth on Thursday night. Is that soon enough for you?" For answer ho stood up and took my hand, and there were signs of tears in his eyes. "You and I have never been very good friends," he said, with a sense of shame in his manner at last. "You have always thought I behaved badly to Cynthia, and I have always resented your interference between mo and my own sister. I have behaved like a beast all the way through, and I beg your pardon, and atn very grateful to you." "There's nothing to be grateful to me for, but I an. glad you can see you have been rough on poor Cynthia. Now for business. I'm going to give you a cheque for twenty-five pounds?you're sure to want some extra things. After the wedding I'll give you another ten for your wine bill going out, and this you must manage on. I've had one or two ?Seavy expenses lately"?his face flushed quickly, and I saw that foolish Cynthia had told him something?"so that I cannot afford to be munificent." "It's more than I deserve," he murmured. "Then if you really think so, try to deserve it better by letting Cynthia hear of your doing well out yonder. It's not my way to lecture, you know, Horace, and I don't want to impose conditions or bind you down in aay way, because I don't believe it ever does a bit of good; but, if you care for your sister the least bit in the world, show it by steering clear of the horse racing fraternity, my boy And now I must be off. I wish I could come out to Kentish Town with you, but it is impossible; I have an appointment at 4 o'clock. Don't trouble to come to the office again unless you wish to. You'll have plenty to do between now and Thursday morning, and I'll 6et tfrinp* right with Levens. By the by, I doat 1 shall see either Cynthia or NO. 9031. 1ANCE OF A LONDON URB. 3oked Paths," "Sheathed it," Etc. you ag<un before the fatal (lay?so, remember, 10:80 sharp at the church!" He wrung my hand and left the room; but ho opened the door again the instant he had closed it to say: "I'll never put a shilling on a horse again as long as I live?I swear it!" When I got back to Clayhill that night I told my mother and Jem what I had done with regard to Horace, and they rejoiced openly over the plan. "It will relieve poor Cynthia for n time, at any rate," said Jem, "although the wretched cub is sure to turn up sooner or later to wear her life out of her." I had told them that Cynthia's past worry had been due to Horace's gambling debts, and Jem's indignation had known no bounds; but on the subject of the cheque I had been as silent as the grave. "Have you seen Cynthia today. Gerald?" said Jem. "No," I answered; "I have been too busy." "We went nn this morninp and tried hard to persuade her to come down and spend to-morrow with us, but she would not hear of it. It would bo her last Sunday with Horace, she said, and she must have him quite to herself. She is so strangely quiet and self possessed, she seems to me to be in quite a dreamy state. She started in a most extraordinary manner once or twice today when I pestered iter for an answer to my questions. The mother says her nerves are shaken by being so hurried over her marriage; but it seems unnatural to mo for a woman to be so scared at the prospect of marriage with a man she cares for. I don't think it would affect me like that!" Although I should have found it difficult to put my thoughts on the subject into words, it is nevertheless a fact that Jem's remarks produced a certain new anxiety in my mind about Cynthia. I did not like to think of her as being so calm and still, so intent upon her own thoughts as to need an emphatic reminder to recall her to what was going on round her. Considering how thoroughly satisfied I was with my scheme for her cure, it was a little surprising that, when Wednesday at last arrived, it found me tortured with a certain unaccountable conviction that something had gone wrong. I slept late in the morning, for I had lain awake well on into the small hours, thinking of many things, and the moment I began to recover consciousness, before I was sufficiently awake to think clearly, I in terror of some impending misfortune. When I was at last fully aroused from sleep, my first clearly formed thought was the recollection that this was my wedding day. Savage with myself for allowing my waking moments to be clouded by an impression of ill orapn, I sprang out of bed and bustled through my dressing arrangements with more expedition than usual, trying to "make believe" that I had quite forgotten the uncomfortable feeling, and that I was as jolly "as a sand boy." But all the time that conviction of coming evil was present in my mind; not all my efforts could drive it out, until at last it made me feel quite faint at heart. The mother and Jem started before me. They were going to Cynthia's first, to accompany her to the church; I, of course, was going straight to the scene of the ceremony. After they had left I dawdled in and outof the sitting rooms in a restless, aimless manner. My modest couple of portmanteaus had been forwarded to Folkestone on the previous day, so that I had nothing to occupy these last moments of my bachelorhood. I strolled into the morning room by and by, and stood for some minutes looking at the envelopes containing the wedding cards, lying in a big heap ou the center table, and addressed in dear old Jem's masculine hand, all ready to post on her return from the ceremony. I was at the church in good timetwenty minutes past 10. I looked at my watch as I got out of my hansom at the corner of the street, and strolled slowly up to tho porch, thinking I should have some time to wait As I turned in at the gate, noticiug with some surprise that tho church doors were not yet opened, a young man who looked like a stable helper came forward and touched his hat. "Mr. Quinton, sir?" he inquired. "Yes," I replied, wondering what the man could want with me. "A note for you, sir." A good deal surprised, I was just going to slip it into my pocket, when I saw the writing was Jem's. I opened it, and found it was addressed from Cvnthia's. M TCrW f "JJr. Quinton, sirf A note for you, sir." "Come here at once"?it ran. "Don't ! be frightened; but something has hap- : pened to defer the wedding." I do not think I was really surprised. | I had been expecting something of this sort all the morning. I turned and hailed the first pass'ng hansom and went off at once. Jem came running down stairs and hurried me up to Cynthia's pretty sitting room, where my mother was quietly sitting, with a pained, anxious look on her gentle face. "Sly poor, dear old boy, she has gone," cried Jem the moment I was safely inside?"gone and left you!" "Gone? Where?" "To Australia with Horace. Read I that!" I seized the letter she held out and read: "Jem dear, forgive me! 1 know it witt bo a hard thing to do. for you would far sooner forgive an injury to yourself than one to Gerald; still I ask you not only to forgive me yourself, but never to rest until you have made him forgive me too. Perhaps you will find this easier when I tell you that I should do him a far greater wrong by marrying him, as things are | at present, than by running away from | him as I am doing. If you want to know what I mean, ask him; if he wishes you 1 to know he will tell you. Your most un! happy friend, Cynthia Debenham." j "How do you know she has gone with Horace?" I asked, looking despondently | round the room where I had been so happy with her, and noting the absence of many things of value?a portrait of her i mother by a celebrated painter, her "Broadwood" and other things?sold doubtless to raise her fare. "Because the man down stairs helped Horace with the luggage last night, and saw the labels." I silt down, hid uiy face in my hands j and groaned aloud?for her more than for I myself. What would her life bo in a I strange country, utterly dependent for companionship and comfort on one unreliable lad, without even the sympathy and support of the few friends she had had in London? The thought was unendurable! She might repulse me if she chose, but I would make one more effort to save her. "I shall go down by the mail to-night, to Plymouth," I said resolutely, standing up, and pulling myself together. "I may go on as far as Naples by the boat; but in any case I shall have the satisfaction of bidding her good-by. See to the warehousing of all these things, Jem, or send Levens up from the city to see to it, and find out if there are any outstanding bills, and settle them. Send mo up a small bag to Waterloo at half past 8 tonight, mother." The next night Cynthia and I sat in her cabin together. By the use of my name Horace had secured her a cabin to herself?not a very difficult matter at that time of the year?so we had these last few minutes free from interruption. "I was afraid you would do this, Gerald," she 6aid, with her sad eyes fixed on my face. "I told Horace not to put the -t- - I i.M i. laoeis on ine luggage uum nu iu iu tho railway station, but I suppose he forgot It was not wise to come, dear?it is only prolonging our sorrow to its utmost limits!" "I came in the hope that even now I should persuade you to change your mind and come back with me, Cynthia." "Gerald," she said solemnly, laying her cold hand on mine, "let me try to convince you that in the present circumstances nothing in the world would induce me to marry you, and I shall not be sorry you have come. Though your loyal love blinds you to the horror of this crime now, it would not be so always. Can you imagine anything?any earthly torment?exceeding that which I should suffer when your present blindness cleared away, and you saw mo and my sin as they really are? Can you understand what my anguish would be day after day, when I saw?or fancied I saw? your manner to mo growing cooler and more reserved? How should I be able to help thinking tho change was due to your memory of that shameful act? The thought would bean intolerable torture; I could not live under it; I should go mad or kill myself! The bare idea is so terrible that, il you were to tell me now I must either go back and marry you or throw myself over the side of tho ship this instant, I would, a thousand times rather drown myself!" She spoke without excitement, but with a calm solemnity which carried conviction to my sorrowful heart I had nothing to say. What answer could I give to such a declaration as she had just made? She, too, sat quiet for a few minutes, with that vacant look in her eyes of which Jem had spoken; and then she began to speak in a low, dreamy voice that made me fancy she hardly knew she was opuaaui^. "If heaven, in infinite mercy, would let mo wake up and find it was all a dream?a bad, cruel dream?if I could come to you and say, 'Gerald, I have been laboring under an hallucination; I did not do what I said I did; I am as innocent of tho crime as you are,' I should resign myself to you with a joy you cannot realize. I would come to you and strive, by a lifelong gratitude, to show you the thankfulness that my heart feels towards you for your goodness to me and mine. But that is all fanciful nonsense, isn't it?" she said gently, as she roused herself from her languor. "Only I Bhould like you always to remember, Gerald, that my lovo is as much and as entirely yours in this n\oment of our earthly separation as it has ever been in the days of our brightest hope!" The warning bell for passengers going ashore began to ring. There was a minute of keenest agony, and I was out and up on deck with my traveling cap pulled well down over my eyes and mv fur collar up to my ears. "Good-by, Quinton," said the captain; "I'll try to make the voyage as pleasant as possible to your friends." Try to make tho voyage pleasant! I almost hated him for his civility. [TO HK CONTINUED NEXT WEEK] THE BURIED TREASURE. The sunset light covers with splendid glow the coast of the Pacific, and bathes in beauty the 6ands of a lonely beach, where the waves are breaking gently. This is a barra?a tidal creek, and its cove is smooth and jx-aceful, being well protected by a line of breakers that here lie farther out from shore than is usual in such places. Black against the background of crimson and gold with which the great orb decks his descent to bis tomb, a boat looms up, rounding the point from the sea into the creek, thence opening inland; and presently the frail vessel grounds and two men leap ashore and draw tho canoe up beyond danger of drifting. So brief is the twilight of the tropics j that it is fairly nightfall as they alight on 1 the bank. The stars are coming out and j reflect themselves in the sea. and far j away gleam the lights from scattered j cabins. The chattering blackbirds have flown home to their night haunts, and the belated gulls are winging toward their craggy nests. In the edge of the d;u'kencd water the. mangroves rustle sadly, the broad banaua leaves wave in the plantation farther inland toward the savannahs. Tlie mournful cry of the lurking jackal resounds from the thicket, and from the forest comes the roar of the tiger?the jaguar, while a thousand in- j sects call from the jungle. Nature seems calling to rest; sea, heaven and earth, all animated creatures appear to be at prayer. The only sounds of activity are the splashes of the countless fish tiiat leap into the air and fall back into me placid, onward flowing water of the harra, and the fitful gleam of the myriad fire flies against their formless hackground. Even these, however, show the light of their greenish, phosphorescent lamps but languidly, as if they lacked energy or stimulus for a more sustained glow. The men from the boat, who had sat down upon the bank, as if weary from their task of rowing, arise as the moon climbs slowly up from the horizon, and turn to where their canoe lay canted upon the sands. "Just yonder in the thicket," says one. "is the spot I have marked out on the parchment that we have left in your sea chest, that each of us might be able to trace the way again should aught hefall the other. You can see the palms I spoke of, two tall hut slender ones, growing close together." "I see," says the other, briefly; "it is not far to carry, and well enough for us, for the load is heavy enough." "There aro not many who would complain of the weight of it," rejoins his companion, "if it were theirs for the carrying. And it is ours, l>eyond a question. No one can claim it from us, though if our comrades knew of our Having ic uiey migm, ueii-iiuuic iu id&v a share by foul or by fair means." They have come to the boat now and are lifting out the load from it?a massive looking coffer, under whose weight the two, with their forces combined, still stagger. And so they go unsteadily up the bank and into the jungle, to the foot of the tall young palm trees, and there, plying the spade and mattock with a right good will, they soon have dug a pit among the nodding ferns and other herbage, rank und clustering, and with many a groan and straining of knotted sinews, they lower into it the heavy, precious coffer. "And now to bury our treasure," says he who has first spoken, "to cover it over Bo well that none but ourselves etui find it ever." "Aye, bury it deeply," says the other, "for tho heavy lying earth lietrays 110 secrets." "I am not sosureof that." returns the former; "as the sea gives up its dead from time to time, so the earth has been known to lay bare ghastly buried horrors"? tho sentence is never finished. Aa the speaker lias been etoo|iing to push into the pit the loose lying earth, his companion, grasping the mattock, has half lifted it now and then irresolutely, and at last he lifts it suddenly on high and sends it crashing down upon the skull of the defenseless, unsuspecting man before him. A traitorous, cowardly murder 1 The victim falls in a huddled, shapeless mass; his body is convulsed in one or two long, horrible quivers, and then that form, so lately full of strength and vigor, is inert and still forever. The assassin stands 6tockstill for a few moments, gazing upon the work of his hands, upon the ruin he has wrought. Then he turns hastily awny from the spot, and even takes a few wild steps toward the creek side, but suddenly he stops, returns, thrusts the body into the pit above me treasure, pusmiigic wiui mu munwu, carefully avoiding its touch with his hands. Then hurriedly, frantically, he throws the dirt upon it until the pit is level with the surrounding plain, ere lie turns away again. The freshly moved earth shows plainly its disturbance, a largish mound remains, displaced by the box and the body of the dead man, the ground about it is trampled and indented, and even one spot, ominously darker than the rest, where the moonbeams stream through the palm leaves, shows where the life blood of the murdered man had poured out, in piteous waste and spoiling. Btit the red handed one no longer notes aught of this. The silence and the solitude of the spot weigh upon him with a potent, dreadful terror, and his only thought and care is to flee from it. Why, the very palms above his head, rustling their leaves at him loudly, are accusing him, he thinks, with intelligible voices. So he dashes madly through tho low growth of the jungle, and reaching the boat, leaps in, casts loose the rope and pushes off in haste from that shore accursed. But has he left his sin and his awful fear behind him? Not so. Even here, on the bosom of the tranquil water, a thousand witnesses seem to murmur of his crime. The voice of the distant tiger, that roars in the jungle, he fancies might be the wail of his victim. The luminous wake of a phosphorescent fish aas terrors for him: he sees in it tho gleam of the ghostly moonlight, filtering through the palm leaves on that pallid countenance yonder. He is rowing on, wildly, blindly, heedless of his course, and, instead of rounding the point, he is going straight on, out toward the breakers. lie looks up to heaven in desperate hope of solace; alas! but heaven itself derides and threatens, he thinks, for in the flying 6cuds of clouds he sees but specters. On, on he hurries, bending to his oars till his frail bark bounds and leaps on tho heaving, swelling water, now growing more turbulent with every impulse that urges the lifeboat forward. The roar of the breakers in his ears is demoniac, but he heeds not the warning: rather he hears in the clamor the outcry of denunciation. He is in the midst of churning, foaming, angry waters. A black rock seems to uprear itself from the raging waves, and wrest an oar from him. As he bends to snatch at the shattered fragments tho other slips from his hand and goes spinning away in the moonlight, as if whirling in a weird dance of mockery. His boat crashes 011 tho reef, whoso fantastic mantle of spray, flung high in the air, he takes ul the supremo moment for another phantom. There is a brief struggle between a stupendous force and an atom? and the man and his sin are buried in the waves forever. t * * + * m Long years hare passed. The two men who once landed here are forgotten, the fate of them buried in oblivion, unknown, indeed, of their fellows. But? who shall say how these things come about??the spot is known as "The Cove of the Treasure." No one knows how or when or why the name has couie to be applied. There is no definite tradition or legend concerning the matter; but through some subtle medium the association of ideas has become a fixed one. And the two palms have long since gotten a name of evil reputation, and here, indeed, there is somewhat of definite shaping. For the story goes that at nightfall a grizzly specter comes forth from their shadow and pursues the affrighted wayfarer. In all the country around there is not a human being who will approach these palms when the sum is fairly sinking, and in truth they arc shunned at cc?t of a wide circuit at any hour whatsoever. Once again?but the hour is now high mid afternoon of a brilliant tropical day ?once again a little boat comes around the point and makes for the beach of the barra, and once again two men step on the shore. They stand a brief while contemplative, impressed by the absolute rei>ose of the scene. The broad, green leaves of the bananas are scarce astir, all sensitive as they are to the lightest zephyr. Those uncouth forms that salute the eye, unpracticed though it be, with something of dread and horror, are not rough logs, as might be thought at first sight, but swinish alligators lazily basking in the slime of the creek or in the shade of the cane brake. The jaguar, and the lizard, too, are asleep, but farther within the jungle, where their more sensitive bodies receive less of the intense heat of the hour. The huaco sits in the high ceiba?for this tall, silk cotton tree will be the first point to catch the grateful breath of the land breeze when that cool, refreshing wind shall blow up sweetly. The cicada sings his grating, strident challenge, but its meas fn?. vnlinrirtfr flto wnicrlit. nf flip uu, IUI 11UUI "*fc5 ? day by a hint of activity, only serves to enhance the feeling of breathlessness, as the cicada call will do the wide world over. So, too, an added heaviness comes from contemplation of the hawk overhead moving in lazy circles. "Caratubal but what heat 1" says one of the new comers, in liquid Spanish; | "we have found the spot, there is no doubt, but the hour is badly chosen. Does it not seem strange, Felipe, that we should so readily have found the site described in that olij. parchment, written in my uncle's scrawling hand, and, oddly enough, preserved in the sea chest of your father, sent home so long ago, after that last luckless voyage, 011 which the two embarked together, and from which neither returned?" "Most strange, indeed," says Felipe; "and for mv part, I am still inclined to think we have come on a fruitless quest. They were dreamers, most like, your uncle and my father, and we shall find their treasure trove to be but rainbow gold." "It is more likely," says Fortunato, "that they won it by force or violence; and you know that gold that has been j baptized in blood shall not be enjoyed by | one of the same race as the shedder of that blood. What have you there, FeI lipe?" His tone changed from simple I earnestness to alarm, as his companion suddenly is shaken by a iK>werful j shudder. "I do not know," says Felipe; "I felt ' that strange, mysterious thrill of horror ! which is said to be caused by the tread of : an alien foot upon the ground where ! one's grave shall be." "Pah! nonsense!" says practical For: tunato; "how weak of you to remember | old women's superstitions! Wlrat I fear J is that you may be developing calenturos. That long row in this beating, blazing sun, the sudden change to the coolness of this dense shadow, and the reck of rank, de; cay ing vegetation ? surely these are causes enough to bring 011 chills and fever in these lowlands. 1 think there j must lie marshes hereabouts?I bad a whilf just now of sickening, churnel IlUC air lliai haiura ui luumim ui iui>uui. Ha! what is that? A mail-perhaps a j contestant of our claim, Felipe!" They are nearing the palms, from whose shade emerges the stranger?a j strange, fantastic figure, clad in a torn and dusty garb of nautical mode and an tiquc fashion. He draws near to the ' young men, and they note that he wears about his neck a clumsy old rosary, holdI ing a massive cross, misshapen from j oxidation. "My friend"?it is Fortunato who hails ! him?"do you live hereabouts?" [ The approaching figure returns no answer. | Felipe grips his comrado's arm in a 1 very convulsion of terror, "Do you 800." lie cries: '*ho lias no face? lie lias 110 substance! Oil. God! Fortunato, it is no man; it is a specter!" Fortunato gazes more intently upon the strange, slowly moving object, and ho perceives in truth that he can distinguish no outline of t. countenance. Not that the face is either veiled or turned aside?it is simply vague and confused. Then he notes, concentrating the same intensity of observation, that the figure, which glides rather than walks, stirs no leaf nor blossom, though many must be brushed violently in that close growing jungle. As the Shape passes little gaps of the open, no shadow nor reflection falls on the still waters of the lagoon, and the shy cranes feeding among the reeds, ever alert to take wing at the nearing footfall of a human being, now forage on in indisturbed serenity, while the timid humming birds 6till hover fearlessly over the bells of the convolvulus. Fortunato hears a crash behind him, and he knows by instinct that Felipe has fallen, senseless from terror, but he does not turn aside, nor avert his eyes from the horror. On, and on, till close beside him, the Thing approaches, but the stout heart of the young man triumphs over his natural terrors, in the highest form of courage. The Mystery makes an imperative gesture, and Fortunato moves forward in prompt compliance. His ghostly guide recedes through the jungle till he reaches the palm trees; he parts the rank ferns and trailing briers, and the young man sees upon the ground an antique, cumbrous mattock, half covered by decaying fallen leaves and very rusty. Again the Specter signals a command, and the young man again obeys that fierce and awful gesture, wrenching the tool from its imlx'dded place among the clinging creeps, and digging furiously, impelled by feverish excitement to a strength abnormal. He is bathed in perspiration, his face is crimson, his breath comes so short and fast that he can scarce continue, yet his energy flags not. Suddenly his pick strikes througn a mass of rotten wood. There is a jingle of metal, and as he wrenches the tool away, ho tears off a great flake of the decayed timber, and lays bare a gleaming heap of gold. He lifts his gaze to his terrible companion, and behold I no more the antique garb and the vague confusion of outlines. Clear, distinct in the broad light of day, it is a skeleton that stands erect before hinrl Then he knows no more until long hours later, when the sea breeze fans him back to consciousness, and he revives, slowly and unremembering at first, raises himself io a sitting jvosture, and looks about him. Yonder a few stepi distant lies Felipe, cold and rigid, in the distorted position 2 i? i.? r..ii TV,- ?k-iiu 1X1 ?I1IUJ1 lie iiao itUicii. x iiu tj tuano are still rolled upward and the lips drawn back, in the contortion of mortal terror, from which they will relax to consciousness never, for Felipe is a dead man. Fortunato, gathering up the threads of his remembrance, turns back to the pit ho has uncovered beneath the palm trees, and there is still the gleaming yellow mass of gold, with the Ikmics of a human frame lying in ghastly disorder upon it.? Y. H. Addis in The Argonaut. SENATOR HAMPTON INTERVIEWED. Senator Hampton is in Washington to remain a few days. Soon after his arrival he was interviewed by a representative of the Star. The senator has very decided views on the political situation in the South, and lie never hesitates to express them in a straightforward interesting manner at the proper time. No man, perhaps, is better qualified than he to speak for the South. The following is a report of the interview: "I do not think," said Senator Hampton, "that Mr. Harrison's policy is as yet sufficiently defined for one to form a definite opinion about it. The Republicans have always made an effort to break into the South, and I have no doubt that at this time they are especially earnest. At present they are directing their "Virrrinin wliord they will certainly be snowed under. They have no chance of carrying Virginia this fall, nor can they hope for better success in any other of the Southern States. "They are trying to win by introducing the economic question in the South, hut as long as the matter of local self-government demands our attention our people cannot he divided on this issue. Whether a man is a Protectionist or a Tariff Reformer, the safety or welfare of his home is paramount to the tariff." "Do you think," was asked, "that there is a growing protective sentiment in the South ?" "No," the senator replied, "I think the tendency is more likely to he the other way, especially in the mining and manufacturing 'districts. The interests of the States of Virginia, Tennessee and Alabama particularly are all advanced by the low duties. They can produce iron and coal much cheaper than they can be produced in the hast. The protection only assists the Eastern manufacturers to keep up this rivalry. Without the protection the rivalry would be greatly lessened. The less protection, the more capital will go to develop the industries of the South. Seeing this I do not think our people will be led off by this question. The efforts of the Republicans will be in Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina and perhaps Alabama. I do not think they will meet with success in any one of these States. The exodus of negroes from North Carolina, if it keeps up, will hurt them there, but they could not carry the State anyhow. Mr. Harrison's appointments in the South have been of a character to strengthen lis in resistance of any attempts made upon the Southern States. 1 know it has been so in South Caroli i - tlw. o.n..n Ilcl illiu 1 JMI.-M1IIH- 11 !.-> nil- i-4iim UI.-I where." "Would any injury result to the South from an extensive exodus ?" "An inconvenience, hut no injury. We would gladly see the colored people move elsewhere, and we would lie willing to suffer any reduction of representation that might result from their departure. It would deprive' us of much of our lahor and make it a little harder for the present generation, hut it would he the salvation of the future. I do not wish any harm to the negroes, hut I would gladly sacrifice whatever votes we get in the electoral college or in congress by reason of them if they would go off to themselves or settle in New England. I would gladly vote to appropriate $00,(100,1100 for the purchase of Cuba or some other ni'wii t'iivtlinin to settle in." "What do you think the Republicans will do with the 'Southern question' in congress this winter?" "They can do nothing constitutionally. 1 think they will attempt to provide for Federal supervisors, and place the elections under Federal control. This would he unconstitutional and vicious. I do not think they can succeed ill this, and I do not see that there is anything else that they can do. There are Republican senators who would oppose any measure oppressive to the South. Those who have investments there would oppose such a policy." Senator Hampton expressed the opinion that there would he no extra session of congress. One reason that he thought sufficient to deter the president from calling an extra session was found in the elections to be held in November, which would necessarily take some members from their seats. They could not do anything if any of these members were . bsent. The death of Mr. I^aird, he thought, would tend to prevent a call. Speaking of the Democratic policy, he said that they would stand together on the defensive, and he presumed that in the House they would resist any attempt on the part of Republicans to unseat Democrats merely to seat Republicans and strengthen their majority. FROM VENICE TO YORKVILLE. ? Alit. MeCLAIX RELATES THE 11EAIAIX It Ell OF HIS STOHY. The Valley of the Po?St. Got hard Tunnel?Down the Rhine?Waterloo?Sea Sick again?Through Kngland, Scotlaiitl. Ireland--Across the Atlantic?Almost a Collision? Recapitulation. For the Yorkville Enquirer. Leaving Venice on the afternoon of July 2(1, I set out up the valley of the Po, for Milan, the capital of Lombarily and the Paris of Italy. If there is a more fertile country in all the world than this wonderful valley, I don't know where it can he. The whole country is as level as a floor and strikes the eye as one vast garden. The distance is about one hundred and fifty miles and seems like one long string of villages, passing on the route some half a dozen cities with from fifty to one hundred thousand inhabitants. Along the railroad are to he seen long rows of mulberry trees, out in the cornfields and almost anywhere else, with their leaves eaten up by vast armies of silk worms, the culture of which is one of the principal industries of this country. Thousands of little cottages and gardens are almost hid in the thick foliage of fig trees, and the numerous creeks and hranches are planted on either side with willows, elms and poplars. This district is provided with a perfect system of irrigation, and independent of rain, the people raise large crops of every product they attempt to cultivate. Vast tracts of land are kept under water all the time and used as rice fields; other tracts furnish an abundance of hay, and consequently, great quantities of milk and butter. This seems to he a great peach country also, and just at this time the vast orchards are literally laden down with the fruit. The villages have very much of a same general appearance, consisting of clumps of peasant cottages surrounding one or two stately mansions belonging to the wealthy classes, and the invariable beautiful church, generally occupying the most prominent sites. Among the larger cities passed through on this routeare Padua, Verona, Brecia and the pretty good sized town of Treviglio. Arrived at Milan, the magnificent railroad depot is the first specimen of the splendor of the city, and from there you have no end of grand buildings. The streets are broad and clean, and the houses, like those of Paris, are of a uniform height and built after the modern styles of arcmrecrurc. ine most uiuguiuceui building in Milan is the cathedral, which, long before the city is reached, can be seen rising above the beautiful towers and palaces by which it is surrounded. This building is constructed of pure white marble and the spire is capped with a gilded statue of the virgin, which glitters and shines in the bright sunlight as though it were made of burnished gold. It stands 3f>4 feet above the surface of the earth. The inner chambers of the cathedral are sustained by hundreds of large pillars, containing any number of bass reliefs, representing scenes principally from the Old Testament. The different colored glass windows tinge the sunlight into various hues, and the effect is most pleasing. Ascending to the roof, you nave a beautiful view of the city and the country around. ()n the one side you see the Alps and Appennine mountains, and on the other, a level plain stretching away off to the Adriatic sea, and all around the country is (lotted with thousands or towns, villages and beautiful farms and cut up with numerous creeks and rivers. It is a pretty prospect. Leaving Milan I proceeded northward to Conio, the southern terminus of the St. Gothard railway, the great Swiss railroad, which is so justly placed among the seleetest few of the great wonders of the world. But I am not going to try to describe it. No one ever has described Switzerland, and such a task as this is entirely out of my line of business. Passing over mountains, through mountains that have no tops and over chasms that have no bottoms, you at length arrive at the Great St. Gothard tunnel?there are dozens of tunnels before you reach this, but this is the "great" tunnel?nine and one quarter miles, the longest in the world. This tunnel pierces the peak (>,">(>() feet below the summit ami its excavation required nine years, the workmen going at the rate of thirteen feet per day. It describes a great double loop in the interior of the mountain. It being necessary to come out at an altitude much greater than the point of entrance, it was necessary to wind about in this nuinner in order to train dis tance in makingthe ascent. I tell von what a man experiences all kinds of curious feelings when he realizes that he is away in the bowels of the earth. Issuing from the darkness at length, however, you find yourself in a beautiful valley and the prospect changes. Your feelings go up to the other extreme. A while ago you had forgot* ten that there was anything 011 the outside worth living for, and now you want six months' vacation to take 111 beautiful scenery by which you are everywhere surrounded. Looking out of the car window, at one place you see four tracks?all the same railroad?and I saw a train not a half a mileaway that was twelve or fifteen miles behind us. Finally I arrived at Frankfort on the Main. This is also a very pretty city, but in detail answers the descriptions I have already given to several others. The depot here, however, is said to be the finest building of the kind in the world. It is a beauty. It consists of four immense glass arches, each division enclosing four tracks. The arches are beautifully bordered with stained glass. The next place visited was Heidle* berg, a beautiful little town not far ! from the Rhine, on a small river the ! name of which I forget. This town is celebrated for its university and its old castle, the latter of which 1 visited and spent some time amongst its vine covered walls, high towers, deep wells and subterranean passages and cellars. In the castles an? to be seen numerous works of art?paintings and reliefs principally. The next town was Darmstadt. I didn't stop here long. 1 didn't like the name of the place nohow. From Darmstadt I went to Mayance, and then took steamer down the Rhine to Cologne, which place, like all other European cities, has the grandest cathedral in the world. $-1,Ann,(100 A ?< i.iwi in rn. WaSSpClll II ill Will ...... pairs. Its spirt* is ~?12 feet high, and the ('Piling inside 1 ! "? feet above the floor. The ehureh of I'rsula is at this place and is said to contain the hones of 1 virgins martyred by the Huns. They are worked into the walls in a species of sepulchral mosaic. 1 crossed the fine iron bridge over | the Rhine and visited the botanical and zoological garden which are all very interesting. Cologne is not such a pretty city as either Frankfort or .Milan, though there are some j beautiful views to be had at different points. Of course the scenery on the Rhine is beautiful. Passing hill after hill and mountain after mountain, the stream on either side is traveled by railroads. At one place the trains darting through a tunnel and at another passing along the sides of steep precipices,with every surrounding eminence surmounteil by some great castle, you have lots of things to occupy your time. Brussels was the next point of interest and J spent some time in taking in this city. The Palace of Justice is the great pet of the people here, and it isabout the only building they care to talk about. It is a magnificent structure and occupies somewhat more space than St. I'eter's at Home. From Brussels I went to the battlefield of Waterloo. It does not look very much like it probably did in 1Kb"). ' The earthworks are all leveled down and the field is in a high state of cultivation. There are, however, some old scarred houses in the vicinity, relics of troublous times in the past, and quite a number of monuments. The British government has erected an artificial mound on the field just in the centre of Wellington's position. The mound is a quarter of a mile in circumference, and about two hundred feet high. It is ascended by a flight of stone steps, at the top of which is a great mass of marble syrmounted by a large lion, weighing twenty-one tons and made of the French cannon captured on the field. The lion stands with head toward Franceand tail toward Brussels. The following is the onlv inscription: "XVIII Juni MDCCCXV." The guide has a wonderful tuna 01 stereotyped stories for the curious tourist, and tells you all about Napoleon from his birth to his death, not failing to give a most elaborate description of the battle of Waterloo, and throwing in numerous anecdotes of the Duke of Wellington. Among the novel sights I saw at Brussels, were the people using dogs for drawing heavy loads?hitching them to anything smaller than an omnibus. Another unusal sight was the use of wooden shoes, which is common among the poorer classes. These shoes are made of solid blocks, are very clumsy, of course, and cost about ten cents per pair. In the vicinity of Brussels is to be seen some very tine agriculture. The field crops are tended like gardens, and although our farmers would think that kind of business rather slow, if they were to see the crops raised, it would not take them long to appreciate the value of the very careful labor expended. From' Brussels I went to Antwerp, the chief seaport of Belgium, with a population of ?*>0,1)00. This city also boasts of a fine cathedral with a spire 102 feet high and contains 1)9 chime bells. Here I saw Reubens' "Descent from the Cross," said to be his masterpiece. Resuming the journey, I next stopped at Rotterdam, in Holland. This city is very much like Venice; the Rhine and other rivers emptying into the North sea at this point and forming lagoons in which the houses have to be constructed on piles. The goods displayed on the arcades are very attractive, but tfce prices are quite distractive. At Rotterdam I embarked on the steamer "Claude Hamilton" and crossed the North sea to Harwitch. Now the North sea keeps pretty busy all the year round,and at this particular time was laboring under the disturbing influence of a storm. My stomach soon entered into hearty sympathy. It wasn't long before I was quite sick. Coming across the Atlantic wasn't a circumstance. In fact I was de-ad, all but closing my eyes, and I wouldn't have given fifty cents to have kept the vessel from going down. 1 was occupied at the side of the ship, when one of my fellow passengers wanted to know what was the matter. I told him "I was only feeding the fishes!" No sooner had 1* Al..\ ? .? Aiinra l.-wlir l?AAL?{?H* IA iif it*ii man a yiiuiig uiuj , m tMng iu poke fun at me, wanted to know what I took for sea-sickness. J told her "a vomit!" She withered, and gave me lots of room for the rest of the evening, but I couldn't help it. At length we arrived at Harwiten all safe, and stopping there but a short while, set out for London. In London I received my first news from home. It was a copy of Thk Yohkvillk Exqiikkk, of July in. O, but the dear old paper was a treasure, and I wore it out completely before leaving Liverpool. I spent a few days shopping and seeing places that I have not heretofore visited, among them Windsor Castle, i"i miles from the city. I was somewhat disappointed in this place. The castle is a plain mass of gray stone about sou feet long by an average width of .Till feet, and the park is not near as beautiful as many other places 1 have seen?('hatsworth for instance. I have often been told of the exceeding cheapness of goods in London, Uit experience has told me differently. I made a number of purchases here and paid well for the articles. From London 1 went up into Scotland, and although I have often heard of "a cold day in August," never before experienced one. August 2nd was such a day with a vengeance. While going through the Trossachs I was all muffled up in an overcoat ancl heavy lap robe, and even then I could not keep warm. In this high elevation, however, the air is so pure and exhilarating that it makes you feel as if you would live a hundred years. You leave the railroad at Stifling and take a seat on top of a stage coach in order to get a good view of the country. The coachman cracks his whip and the four horses travel as though they liked it. The turpike roads are so line that to them the heavy coach seems nothing. The driver, too, he is an intelligent fellow and feels his importance. He acts as guide, interpreter and time-table, knows every thing about everything and would* have you to believe that if he was not there you couldn't get along at all. He wants his "tip" too, and has the science of asking for it "without ever mentioning it," down tine, lie will tell you good bye, for instance, about three times, and if you don't "catch on," he at once gets angry and throws out his hints about some people being so stingy, kinder sideways like. It has been mv experience that almost everybody in the countries through which I have traveled, from landlords down to bootblacks, "expect," or will receive, a tip for each and every service they perform. I was very favorably impressed with the Scotch people until I arrived at (ilasgow, and then I was disgusted. It seemed as if the whole city was drunk. In fact, there was more drunkenness here than I saw at all the other places combined. I didn't tarry long, however. From (ilasgow I went to Fdinhurgh. This is a beautiful city, and is laid oft' in a manner peculiar to itself. Some of the streets, though straight, are a series of circles, the houses on eitherside bordering extensive crescents, from one-fourth to one-half mile long, and forming pretty circular courts, in the centre of which are beautiful drives and numbers of tastefully arranged plats of shrubbery, flowers and grasses. .Most of the thoroughfares, however, are broad and straight, and pre 1 *>--* ti.? ..,,.1 Win L I lit I IIIII 11(1 Mill > 111 I HIT flW <11111 stylo of the houses so eonspicious in Paris, Milan and Frankfort. From any point you look at the city it is a pretty prospect. It is built on some very high hills and has within its limits some very deep valleys. The former are set oil' by beautiful architecture on their tops and the latter are traversed by sparkling streams. Leaving Edinburgh early in the morning, 1 had an all day's ride through the .Highlands. These are j a series of high mountain ranges running parallel with each other, and somewhat similar to our Blue Ridge. The railroads follow the valleys and streams and afford the exc-urisionist an excellent opportunity of "seeing the banks and braes and streams around the castle o' Montgomery" to excellent advantage. The farms through this part of the country are not near so good as those in England, France or Italy. The grasses are the chief production, though a great many potatoes are raised along with a limited variety of other vegetables. Fruit and grapes are scarce, but Scotch lassies are plentiful. Their skirts fall just a little below the knees, and show the nether limbs most satisfactorily. The limbs in question are not always built according to the plumb line, but more generally after the rainbow pattern with the convex sides turned out. With their broad bottomed, flat heeled shoes, along with other odd features of dress, they certainly don't strike the American as being ideal beauties. 1 Iowever, I saw quite a number of Scotch girls who were well formed, had fair ruddy complexions and were really pretty. The dress or uniform of the Highland soldiers is also quite unique. Beginning at the top: They wear a very small skull cap, with "a long ! tossel suspended from the centre. : Next, a white, close fitting blouse-like shirt, and then the 'kilt,' which is the i most peculiar garment. It is a skirt of heavy dark woolen goods, attaehI ed to the waist by a band and falling just above the knees. Their legs are perfectly bare with the exception of two-thirds of the calves, which are . covered with black woolen stockings, ' and some heavy shoes complete the dress. 1 understand that they are i clad the same way winter and sum- I ; mer, and the very looking at them, while 1 was shivering in my heavy ' overcoat, certainly did not' add to my comfort. From this city I went to Greenock, j ' a thriving manufacturing town, and going through the great machine shops and foundries, learned much j about shipbuilding, etc. Greenock, ! like Glassgow, is quite given overt.) | drunkenness, and here 1 saw large numbers of men and women making perfect beasts of themselves. As might be expected, there is a good deal of poverty and destitution at this place, and numbers of miserable, half-clad women and children begging in the streets. At nightfall I concluded I had enough of it, and by sunrise next morning was across the Irish sea 011 thesteanier Dromedary, and landed at Belfast. Belfast is quite different from other cities in one respect, and that is in the absence of boot blacks. There are none here, and it was when I found it out that I first realized how useful the little fellows are. A long line of Irish jaunting cars await the tourist at the docks?but let me describe these cars. They are very peculiar two wheeled vehicles with seats on either side immediately over the wheels. The seats hold two passengers each, sitting back to back, and four passengers to the car. The driver gets in wherever he can ; sometimes not getting in at all, but walking along on the ground. The cars would be real comfortable?if you were not accustomed to something a great deal better. They serve very well for conveyance over short distances, however. Approaching the city by way of the east bridge over the river Tagan, in the background is a great mound called Cave hill, the crest of which presents a most remarkable resemblance to the head and face of Napoleon?not an imaginary likeness, but one which anybody would recognize. Belfast is a beautiful city and has many handsome specimens of fine architecture, not the least noticeable among which is Queen's College. The Presbyterian and Methodist colleges are also hand I . ? o some structures. From Belfast I went to the Giant's Causeway, 011 the northern shore of County Antrim. In this locality are some of the most remarkable natural formations that are to be seen in the world. Thousands of curious pillars of basaltic rock, looking as though they had been driven side by side with great pile drivers, and forming all manner of caves and curious resemblances that it would require weeks to explore, form this causeway, supposed to have originally extended across into Scotland. Among the names given to the different resemblances are: Giant's Chain, Giant's Ball-alley, Giant's Pulpit, Giant's Pipe Organ, The Twins, The Four Sisters, The Priest and others, too numerous to mention?description out of the question. Most of the country in Northern Ireland is hilly, or rolling, and generally poor, it is of a gravelly grey color, with tine sandy bottom. There are some level pieces of land, however, that are well manured and produce tine crops of Irish potatoes, which are more generally grown than anything else. The other principal crops are oats, flax,barley and turnips. Land rents at an average of about $o per acre, and the landlords are not allowed to raise rents (under recent act of parliament) for 1"> years, provided the tenants desire to remain on their places. Four hundred bushels of potatoes to the acre is about the !iv?r!itr? croo. Farm labor is vcrv " ' v * "r>v v,'r* ? poorly paid. One laborer, a very intelligent man, told me he could hardly get one shilling a day (2~> cents) for his labor, and is now paying four shillings a bushel for potatoes. Ordinary flour is worth S2.7o per hundred pounds, butter .12 cents, eggs 'JH cents, and bacon is cents. At these prices and wages, it looks like it is a pretty hard matter to make money. Yerv few farmers own the lands they till, and their dwelling houses, kitchens, barns, stables, cattleand hogpens are certainly too close together to suit the average American, or for health and comfort. Timber is small and scrubby, coal is high priced, and the principal supply of fuel consists of peat, dug from the tops of the high lulls and mountains. Peat is a kind of vegetable substance found in bogs, and is prepared by soaking in a vat of water, then thoroughly dried and pressed into hard cakes. This same substance is also extensively used for manure, as is also the sea weed which drifts ashore. Sheep and cattle are very numerous in Ireland, and the former are extensively used for food. The stock are herded by boys and old men. All along the railroads are thousands and thousands of yards of linen put out to bleach. It stays stretched out on the grass through rain and shine for weeks, and isguarded from thieves at night by watchmen employed for the purpose. Tlie Irish people all have a good ooinion of America, which they ful Iy recognize as "the land of the free," and ail that keeps thousands of them from coming over here is lack of the passage money. This they haven't got, and at the rate of accumulation it takes years to acquire it. Some Irishmen have been to America and returned, hut 1 have been told that it was because they could not stand the warm climate. From Belfast I returned to Liverpool, and on Wednesday evening August 7, at four o'clock, set sail for America. For the first three days out we had a very rough and heavy sea, consequently there were but few to cook for except the sailors. On Sunday night we encountered a heavy fog, and then commenced the blowing of the miserable fog horn every l."> seconds. At daylight the fog had thickened, and at about one o'clock we heard the fog horn of another steamer. All anxiously ran to the railing and began looking in the direction of the danger sound. Imagine our horror when, within loo ' feet of our vessel, we saw another ' large steamer bearing directly across j our track. It looked as though collision was inevitable, and I never ' saw such a look of despair as was depicted on the faces of passengers, officers and crew. Such a moment can never be forgotten. The City of Homo was still under way and running at full speed. The engines of both vessels were reversed almost instantly, and the great steamer came to a standstill, the other boat turning around and passing the stern of our boat by not more than twenty feet. It was a miraculous escape, and even the old sea dogs were frightened. The other vessel was the Tropic, loaded with lumber and cattle. 1 was afterwards told by one of the officers, a cool deliberate fellow, who said lie saw a collision once, that nau me Tropic struck us we would have prone down inside of thirty minutes. That wouldn't have been comfortable either, for the water was (578 feet at that place. After this narrow escape the City of Rome put seven watchmen on duty and kept them at their posts until we had run through the fog, which was not until Tuesday morning. This adventure happened near the hanks of Newfoundland, where we were so frightened by the icebergs in going over, and where there is almost always a dense fog. Just after this occurrence we ran into a light fall of snow. The steamer kept up its usual speed, however, as the officers said it was no use to slow down. There was as much danger in running slow or standing still, as there was in running fast. It was all chance, anyway. All on board certainly felt very much relieved when the fog lifted.* Nothing else of importance occurred during the voyage. ()n Wednesday the sea was as calm as a mill pond. It rained a little in the afternoon, but there were no high winds, and the weather continued calm until New York was reached. Europe is a great country, it cannot be denied, but the effect of a visit to it on an American is that his own country is greater. In Europe, the rich are very rich and the poor are miserably poor. The lower classes are as much slaves as our negroes used to be. The only advantage that I can see that the Europeans have of us is in the start. They commenced earlier. But we are gaining on them quite rapidly. Our people have more energy in a week than they have in a month. They are ahead of us in agriculture, but in little else. They exeel in this from necessity. With us it is simply a matter of profit. In our country anybody can make a living if he can walk. In Europe you have got to work for it. and work for it hard. It is not as hard to make a living here as it is to find a job there. Our people are free and happy and prosperous. They enjov so many blessings that they really do not know what they have got. If you were in Europe you could appreciate them. I can't begin to draw a com- ' parison, but I am forcibly inclined to apply the old Roman saying to America: "To be an American is greater than a king !" Now I expect to be asked a great many questions about how l enjoyed my trip, etc., and will anticipate the answers. I enjoyed it very much. I expected to have a good time and to see a great deal. I had a good time and saw more than I expected. It cost some money, but not a cent more than it is worth. Seeing Europe on $200 is all bosh, and you can't expect to cross the Atlantic and travel over in that country for less than from $250 to $.'100 per month. The idea of living cheap while traveling in Europe is all humbug. I tried it first, second and third class fare. If there was any 1 letter way I wanted to get at it?but it's all about the same, and costs at least one cent a mile more than in America. The steamship companies are frauds. They promise a great many things they never expected to do. but even they are imposed upon. There are three classes of impositions: 1st. The man with the short pipe. That's enough to say about him. 2d. The lady with the poodle dog. Don't you think it looks nice to see n lady nursing a little old red eyed, shaggy-haired, duck-legged dog, feeding him from her own plate, and taking alternate bites off of the the same piece of chicken? That's one of the tonics offered to a seasick stomach on board an ocean steamship. :kl. The newly married pair, with their gum-sucking, honeymooney business. They ought not to be allowed to travel, at least not until they get entirely well?say from six to ten years, for instance. From Yorkville back to Yorkville 1 traveled twelve thousand two hundred and fifty-live miles, almost equally divided over land and water, in fifty-eight days, and visited thirtytwo cities and several towns and country places. How did I do it? Well I did most of my sleeping before I left Yorkville, and having [ thoroughly studied the maps ana routes, knew exactly where I was going and how long I intended to A rrivinir of o HMI' Plfv 1 ini mediately bought ali the best guide books I could get, employed a native I guide, told him how long I had to stay and what I wanted to see. When the scenery was an item, I managed to travel in day time, and when it was not, I traveled at night. By this means I was enabled to utilize all my time and saw a good many of the sights. In conclusion, dear reader, I will say that if you have been pleased with my story I am very much gratified. If not) I assure you I nave done the l>est I could, and you could not expect any more. While in Europe I saw many places in which I think I would like to live?if I didn't know anything about South Carolina, York county, and Yorkville. T. Baxter McClaix. Benefits of Going Barefooted.?I consider the following, taken from the London Lancet, very sensible and worthy the respectful attention of parents. I have ever found the writer's views confirmed by personal experience with my own children : "Children who are allowed to go barefooted enjoy almost perfect immunity from the danger of'cold' by accidental chilling of the feet, and they are altogether healthier and happier than those who, in obedience to the usages of social life, have their lower extremities permanently invalided and, so to say, carefully swathed and put away in rigid cases. As regards the poorer classes of children, there can be no sort of doubt in the mind of anyone that it is comparatively better they should go barefooted than to wear'boots that let in wet, and stockings that are nearly always damp and foul." There could be added to the above testimony of many eminent physicians, who give as an additional reason the impossibility of a child's foot growing naturally,shod, as it has to l>e, with the conventional shoe. Forgotten Articles.?The accumulation of forgotten articles in hotels is something enormous. Man'' 1 " At- - T .C ii-. ager Baker, 01 me lauayeiie, riiuadelphia, in speaking of the matter, said: "You nave no idea what a lot and variety we have frequently on hand. Every year or two we have a sale of such as are unclaimed. Just as we were about to have our annual sale this year the Johnstown deluge took place, and we donated what was on hand to the sufferers through the district officers. There were four barrelfuls, and they were valued at one thousand dollars. Among the articles were three hundred night shirts, fffty pairs of boots and shoes, over one hundred ladies' wraps, any amount of children's clothing, and articles of wearing apparel of almost any kind. Besides these we have canes, umbrellas, bird-cages, bustles, coats, false hair, and, in one case, a set of false teeth, jewelry, and so many other things that they cannot be enumerated. Unless of great value, they are seldom called for." A correspondent of the Western Rural asks: "How many Christians are there in the United States ?" The editor replies: "There are 17,imm),ooo church members. That is as near as we can come to answering the question." HaF* He is most powerful who has himself in his power.