Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 27, 1889, Image 1
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"VOL. 35. YOEKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1889. NO. 48.
TAKEN B
. The Story of a Young
ences in 1
Copyright by J. B. Lippincott Company
Special Arrangement through tb
CHAPTER XVII.
w ITH all his
j ^ earnest
'hing to Rush
his energies was
in that direction. Whatever lie did in
the line of his profession he did with enthusiasm,
not only because it was the
profession of his choice, but because success
meant Helen, and Helen meant all in
life that was worth having. He knew that
his chances of winning her as a successful
man were better than his chances as '
on nnciiAPOccfnl mon? nnrl fV*or* hn iin/1 '
no patience with men who did not get 1
along in the world. Some of his friends
thought this indicated a slight touch of
hardness in his nature, but it did noth- j
ing of the sort. He believed that a man
with health and strength and a fair
amount of intelligence ought to be able
to make his way as well as the next. I
With such an ingrained belief as thi3
he was pretty certain to get along; for,
as I heard a wise old fellow once express
it, ."your cock-sure man is bound to
suoceed." If it had not been for this
trait in his disposition Rush would have
retired from the contest for Helen
Knowlton's hand before he had entered
upon it He was not such a fool as to ,
* think that he only had to tell his love to
Helen to have her confess a reciprocal
passion. He knew that if he was to sue- j
ceed in his pursuit of her it would be ! (
after a long siege. | ]
He knew his youth to be a serious olv I
stacle in hfe path. He was at least Ove (
years younger than Helen, though to
the casual observer he seemed quite as
old as she did, for she had been kept |
very young, and he had always seemed j
older than he was. ,
On this point of disparity of years he ?
had been gathering statistics of late, and ^
he was surprised to find how many mar- i
riages were made where the husband
was younger than the wife, and lie was *
delighted to find that the great majority
of such marriages were happy. His
grandfather Hurlstone was ten years g
younger than his grandmother, and to ?
the end of their days they were a loving j
couple. At 75 she" appeared quite as t
young as he did at 65, and, although she g
died first, he did not survive her many
months. Rush intended to use this il- ?
lustration with fine effect when the ^
time came, but just now he was busy
preparing himself for his new depart- ^
ment. He entered upon his duties as j|
foreign editor with zeal, and, as the for- n
eign department of the paper was the. j.
one in which its proprietor felt the ^
greatest interest, his work was brought'
conspicuously to that great man's atten-j .
-tion. Rush knew enough French to
read the French papers, and he could
make out fairly well with the Italian exchangea
"Why don't you study Germon?" said S
Helen, wnen lursn-torn fibr 01
position and his plans. "You will find j,
it a great help in your profession." c
Rush, delighted to think that she took
enough interest in his affairs to make a j
practical suggestion, secured a German
teacher the very next day and went to ,,
work with a will. Some of the older
men on Tho Dawn smiled at his enthu- a
siasm. '1 t]
"Why, my dear fellow, you may be put t]
at police reporting to-morrow?you can't
tell from one day to tho next what your v
position will be on this paper?and then
what good will your languages do you?"
"Quite as much good as at the foreign
desk," replied Rush, with a smile; "for
you know the mixed nationalities of our
criminal classes. But, seriously, I do
not consider that the study of languages ^
is over thrown away; and, again, as long ^
aa 1 hold a position ou The Dawn I want
to learn all that appertains to it." !
So he went on with his German and ^
Italian, which, if not absolutely necessary
to his position, were of very great assistance.
Helen highly approved of his
thoroughness, and was genuinely pleased *
at his promotion. Aunt Rebecca, for her t
part, said that sho was "prouder of him ?
than of any of her boys." Rush would v
have been in a very happy frame of mind
if it had not been for Helen's impending [
departure. The evening before 6ho sailed I
he 6pent at her house, and, while it was (
always an ecstatic delight to him to be {
in tho same room with her, he would
have enjoyed it more if there had not j
been so large a party?Bessie Archer,
Archie Tillingliast, Uncle Lightfoot ]
Myers, Mary Dick Griswold, West Hast- (
ings, and half a dozen more whom Rush
did not know as well.
He 6aw very little of Helen; 6he was j
monopolized first by one and then by
the other, so that he had no chance of
seeing her alone. West Hastings was ,
very devoted; and Uncle Lightfoot told
him it was "deuced selfish" of him when '
he was going to cross over in the steamer
with Helen, while the rest of them were
going no farther than the gang plank;
so Hastings retired from the field with a
smile which said as plainly as words
could say it, "You see I could have her
all the evening if 1 would, but I won't
be too hard on the rest of you." From
Helen he turned with the easy grace of
a society man to Bessie Archer, who,
though she did not care much for that
style of man, found this particular specimen
rather amusing.
This last evening at Helen's New York
home was a very pleasant one, for Helen
was a charming hostess. As it drew to
a close they had some music, and Helen
insisted upon Rush singing a song. He
refused so flatly at first as to appear
almost rude, but Helen knew this to be
embarrassment She wanted her guests
to hear what a fine barytone voice he
had; so she sat down at the piano and
began playing the accompaniment of one
of Rubinstein's songs.
"You will not refuse me the last request
I shall make of you for months?
possibly the last 1 shall ever make, for
fhe ocean is very wide, end even tho
largest ships are frail." She said this
with a smile, but more seriously than
she intended, and Rush turned a shade
paler at the thought.
"I never sang to a roomful of people, j
and I will not do so now; I will sing to 1
you."
"Thank you very much," said Helen,
pretending not to notice tho meaning of
hia words. "I t.honcht. vnn oonld "iof-. rfc
fuse me." And she began playing the
accompaniment again. She played it
beautifully. Ller accompaniments were
an inspiration to a singer. Rush stood
by the side of the piano where he could
look at her and not face the room, though
he did not turn his back to the guests.
He had learned enough German to be
able to sing the words in that language,
and he felt freer in singing a sentimental
song in a foreign tonguo. On the tirst
two or three notes his voice trembled
aligbtly, but the words and Helen's presence
warmed him, and he sung ushc-Jiad
never sung before, giving every word its
full meaning, and looking straight into
her eyes as the rich tones poured from
his lips. Ho sang as lie fell, and ho
threw such an intensity into some of the
words that Uncle Lightfoot Myers, who
knew a little German, looked at Aunt
Rebecca and winked, as though to say,
"Another victim."
When Rush finished singing every ono
In the room except West Hastings came
Y SIEGE.
f Journalist's Experirew
York.
Philadelphia, Pa., and Published by
e American Press Association.
up and complimented him on his voice.
"You never sang for me, Mr. Hurlstone,"
said Bessie, rather reproachfully.
"Why, Rush, old man, how you havo
improved 1" exclaimed Archie. "I remember
you used to sing college songs,
but I never heard you sing them like
that."
"Where did you get this beautiful j
voice you have been hiding under a
bushel, and who is vour teacher?" asked
Mary Dick, taking his hand and shaking
it enthusiastically,
"The voice, such as it Is," said Rush,
slightly embarrassed, "I suppose I came '
by naturally, but my knowledge of music
I owe to the best of teachers, for Miss
Knowlton has been kind enough to give
me most valuable instructions."
"Nonsense!" said Helen, "I heard him
sing a little song one night, and I saw 1
that he had a musical ear and a very '
sweet quality of voice; so I made him '
bring his music arounr" here, and gave 1
him a few liints, which fell upon good j
soil, for they have borne fruit a hundred ]
fold."
Rush's singing had certainly made a '
sensation, and they would not let him off J
until he had sung another song, into
which he threw even more passion than
he did into the first, for it was "Bid Me *
to Live." '
"If Dick Griswold had ever sung to
me like that," remarked the vivacious y
Mary Dick to Uncle Lightfoot,"I wouldn't J
have kept him waiting so long for an *
answer as 1 did." *
West Hasting didn't enjoy this part of *
the performance "t all, and remarked to '
Bessie Archer, with an emphasis that *
made her smile in spite of herself, that 1
he despised a singing man and thought *
German a beastly language. If he could ^
aot sing to Helen he was determined that *
*ho slum lil sine tn him and wlipp clio snf. t
3 ,?- ? ?iown
at the piano again he put the music, :
i pretty French love song, on the rack, 11
ind stood immediately in front of her as 6
ihe sang it. Now, as all singers like to ?
lave some one at whom they can look ^
vhen singing, Hastings turned the pages ^
ind caught the glances he coveted and
vas content ?
When the everffhg broke up, as the
jleasantest evenings will, Aunt Rebecca a
ailed Rush aside and said she wanted to 0
ay a few words to him after the other 81
quests had gone: " His heart beat high in ^
sxpectation, for the thought crossed his
oind, "Perhaps she has discovered that 0
adore her niece, and is going to tell me n
hat she will bo my friend." Helen "
tayed in the drawing room after her
quests had gone only long enough to c*
hank Rush again for his songs and say a
hat she should expect to see him at the
teainer. "So now addio," she said, giv- J.
ag him hef hand. He took it and raised ,
b reverentially to his lips. She thought 1
lOthing of this, for they were very good ff
riends, and then she had lived a good J
eal among foreigners.
"Now, Mr. Hurlstone," 6aid Aunt Re- ?
>ecca, taking him by the arm and lead- I
ag him to the sofa, "I think I under- . /
tand you pretty well" (Rush blushed to
he roots of his hair), "and I feel that I ,
an speak to you plainly, and not waste .
iroa-'a beating about the bush." T.
"YOU can cerutmiv uepcmr-oi* irro, ?ft
liss Sandford. I am proud to be your bi
onfidant," answered Rush, in a Bteadv
oice, though he thought it was going to
remble. n(
"Well, then, to the point. I see that R
ou are fond of Helen" ,
"1 a?" Rush was going to say, "I
dore her," but Aunt Rebecca, who was
(linking her own thoughts, went on as
(lough lie had not made an attempt to
[>eak: "And I believe that her interests r
rill be safe in your hands. You aro the e*
oreign editor of The Dawn, I believe."
n 1
"1 have that honor."
"Well, then, if our agent sends you an
ccasional cablegram from London
bout Helen's success will you put it in
our paper? You know The Dawn is the *
aost important paper to a public 6inger. *
Vhat do you say?" *
"I shall be delighted," answered Rush, ?.
hmiP-h his hones had been suddenly a
lashed to the ground. "Anything your el
gent sends me about Miss Knowlton al
hall be double leaded and have a dis>lay
head." "
"Thank you very much. I shall not ^
ake advantage of your kindness, but I
im glad to have a friend at court?one c<
vho will seo that tho truth gets into *v
jrint. I'm sorry to have kept you so $
ong, but business is business, and I a'
night not get 60 good a chance to- u
norrow, when everything will bo hurry st
md bustle. By the way, why can't you u.
50 down with us? There'll be plenty of ll
oom in tho carriage. Good idea! I'm
sure Helen will bo pleased. You need
iot hesitate; you can make yburself use- n
ful as well as ornamental; so wo shall
expect you to be hero at half past 11
sharp. Tho steamer sails at 1. Good ?
aight; I'll see you in the morning."
Rush shook hands good night, and *
promised to be punctual; and ho was.
The drive to the dock was not particu- r
larly gay. Helen felt homesick at leaving
all her friends and her beloved New ?
York for a strange city and a strange 1
people. When they arrived at the
steamer, however, there wero a number v
of friends to see them off?tho guests of
the night before, and some others who r
were strangers to Rush?and there was a r
great deal of laughing, and the usual a
amount of small talk and frolic that are c
part of such an occasion. Helen's stateroom
was filled with flowers, and there
was a brilliant horticultural display on 1
one of tho tables of tho dining room. 1
Teleerrams poured in upon her from 6
every direction, and there was also quite 1
a collection of letters from friends who ?
could not get to the steamer, but who
wished to say bon voyage. The most 1
gorgeous flowers she received bore West (
Hastings' card.
Rush knew that ho could not compete 1
with her wealthy admirers, and that it 2
would bo foolish for him to mako the at- (
tempt, so he had bought a curious Chinese 1
vase covered with dolphins and little 1
fishes and filled it with growing forget- 1
me-nots. Helen was more pleased with !
this than with anything else she received; !
"for," said she, 4,it will give me some- 1
thing to take caro of during the voyage, 1
and every time I water it or break oif the '
dead leaves I will think of you, and 1 1
will wonder how vou are erettiner aloiur 1
in your new position. You must write
and tell me all about it. I will not promise
to answer your letters, but Aunt Rebecca
will, and you will get a much more 1
entertaining letter from her than I could
write." 1
Rush fully realized that Helen was go- '
Ing away. The active preparations for
departure gave him the most melancholy
feelings, which it required all his manhood
to keep him from betraying. When
the bell rang and the order "Allashore!"
was shouted ho had serious thoughts of
staying aboard and taking his chances,
but the impulse was oidy momentar\\
lie was the last of Helen's friends to say
good-by to her, and when he took her
hand her eyes were filled with tears.
Tears did not disfigure Helen's eyes; on
the contrary, they heightened their
charm. How he longed to tako her in
his arms and kiss them away! What ho
did do was to give her hand a formal
shake, and smile mechanically as he bade
her good-by. Then he ran along tho dock
and out to tho liow of a ship moored
there, so that he had the last sight of her,
and was in turn the last friend she saw
in America. She threw him a roso as
she passed and it fell in the water. In a
moment lie had pulled oil his coat and
sprung into the river, where he picked
up the flower and waved it to Helen as
the steamer passed out of sight. He saw
the frightened expression on her face
when he dived and he was repaid. A
man in a rowboat picked him up, the
crowd on the dock cheered, and he carried
the roso home in triumph.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Pa m u s i n g
letter from London.
She had a
keen eye for the
ridiculous, and
the portraits of
d i 81 i n g u ished
people she gave
him with a stroke
of the pen were
as characteristic
as they wore
clever. While these amused him he was
rtrli n r-? cltA Ct\a1.?a a ?
LUU1L UllfClUOtUU lltU OllW U1
Helen. "The dear child scores a triumph
every night she sings; but her
heart is true to Poll, and the applause of
all the crowned head3 of Europe could
not thrill her as do the plaudits of her
own countrymen in the dear old Academy."
Sometimes Helen would send n
message or add a line to Aunt Rebecca's
letter, which was a great consolation to
Rush, for it showed that she still thought
of him. He was delighted to know that
;ho vase of forget-me-nots was still
olooming, and that Helen, who was devoted
to flowers, kept it in her room and
;ended it every day with her own dear
lands.
During the long summer days Rush
vorked hard at his desk in the office of
["he Dawn, and time did not drag with
lim. Helen was coming back in the
all; there was that to look forward to.
In one of her letters Aunt Rebecca menioned
in a casual manner that West
lastings had gone over to Paris with a
>arty of Americans, and that she thought
ig was quite enamored of a western
leiress, one of their number. When
tush read this sentence ho wanted to
urn a hand spring in the editorial sancum,
for it was proof positive that Ilastngs
was not engaged to Helen, that he
hould leave her to go to Paris in the
rain of a western beauty. That was the
est news lie had heard in many a long
^Vhen Rush's two weeks' vacation
ame he accepted the very cordial inviition
of Mr. Archer to spend half of it
t his country place on the Sound; the
ther week he devoted to his mother and
isters at Farmsted. Mr. Archer's place
ras about two hours from New York by
le boat and stood upon a high bluff
verlooking the Sound. It was a large,
imbling, old fashioned house, with nulerous
additions that had been made
:om time to time for convenience and
amfort. Archio Tillinghast was there
t the timo of Rush's visit, much to his
anoyance, for Ire could not get it out of
is mind that Rush was in love with
essie. The thought troubled him, and
3 could not help showing it. Bessie
iw that he was jealous of Rush, but she
new well enough that he had no cause,
ne night when Rush and Archio were
tting out on the moonlit veranda en
tjnluuii ujjaia uitvi uic i cat \;i niu
jusehold liad goiio to bod, Archie put
10 question plainly to his friend.
"Rush, old man," said ho, "I thiuk it
stter 'to speak out in meeting' than
' let anything ranklo. Tho question
jn, but I don't asK*!tn5tt^ Aosicy,
it because I must know the truth. Are
>u in lovo with my cousiu Bessie?"
"Why, bless your heart, Archie, I
jver dreamed of such a thing!" And
ush, who was thinking of his love for
elen Knowlton when he spoke, laughed
. the absurdity of tho question.
Archie resented his tone.
"You couldn't lovo a better girl if you
ied," he said; "and I think your manner
ctremely offensive."
He threw his cigar on the grass and
ose to go inside.
"Wkv Archie, old friend." said Rush,
iking his hand, "there is no woman in
10 world for whom I have a moro pro>und
regard than I have for Miss
rcher; but I thought you, who used to
vit me with it, kuew of my love for an;her
woman, and it seemed to me so
jsurd to think that I could love any one
se, that I could not help laughing as 1
iswered your question."
"I'll forgive you, old boy," said Archie,
^seating himself and lighting a fresli
igar; "and since you are so confiding
11 confide in you in turn. . I love my
jusin Bessie. Sho really isn't my cousin,
ou know; no more relation to me than
ou are; and as she gives mo no encourgement
I supposed it was because there
as another man in the field. You and she
eined to be so intimate that I have looked
pon you as a successful rival for some
nie past, and have only been waiting
) call you out; but now I gladly acnowledgo
my error. If you arc not mv
ival I know I have none, and I'll go in
j win now, or know the reason why. I
id once think of challenging that blacktiard
0'IIara, or whatever his name
;as, but the law took him in hand and
ived me the job. Imprisonment for
.'"e lie got, wasn't it? I thought so?the
eccal! Hanging would have been too
ood for him. But tell me, old man. are
ou still roallv and seriously in love with
Ijo Knowlton?"
"Really and seriously, Archie. But I
fish you would not call her 'the Ivnowlonthat
sounds as though she was
lOthing but a public character, when
eally that is the least part of her. It is
s a woman that I admire her, though I
onsider her the greatest singer of our
ime."'
Rush's experience of prime donne was
imitcd. but ho had heard this statement
idvancrd by excellent authority and felt
iafo in echoing it. "My confession to you
o-night," he continued, "is in the most
.acred confidence. No one suspects what
! have told you, Miss Knowlton least of
my one; but I am going to win her or
lie in the attempt."
"I admire your pluck, old man, for it
t is plucky of you, deuced plucky, when
iOu have to fight against 60 many suitors.
I givo you my blessing; go in and
ivin. You possibly think, with becoming
nodesty, that if you win Helen Knowlton
you are the one upon whom congratulations
are to be heaped: certainly
cou deservo some; but Miss Knowlton is
hiio nno whom I shall congratulate. And
now to bed, and to dream of our sweethearts?God
bless them! You have made
ino a happy man, Rush, or perhaps I
should say a comparatively happy man."
And the friends pressed each other's
hands and said good night
The next and last week of Rush's vacation
was spent with the dear ones at
Farmsted. It was the middle of August,
and all tho village was in a flutter of excitement
over the arrival of so distinguished
a townsman. OldBennie Miles,
tho seedsman, said that ho "knowed Rush
Ilurlstono was going to make a place for
himself in York. There was tho right
kind o' seed in him. Just give it a
chance, and see how it 'ed grow." And
old Aunty Stout, the village charwoman,
said sho "could hev told any one that
that there young feller was born for a
inarbill palish; and if what sho hearn
tell was true, his olfico in New York was
nothin less than marbill from its front
stoop to its lean-to."
Tho approaching wedding of John
Ilurlstono to Amy Bayliss was 110 less
an occasion of local excitement. John
hadn't been in Farmsted since I10 went
away "to take keer o' that gold mine,"
us tho villagers expressed it, but Amy
had heard from him regularly, and he
had at last fixed tho wedding day. It
was to bo September tho 3d, and great
were tho preparations then going on.
Amy's brother Tom was to bo tho best
man. John's two sisters tho bridesmaids,
anil both Dr. Bayliss and the bishop of
the diocese were to perform the wedding
ceremony. Farmsted was in a flutter of
excitement over the event, and the church
was receiving some needed pain';"g and
upholstering in anticipation. John wrote
that he would not bo on until the ~ery
morning of the wedding, because he was
busy getting his affairs in order, so that
he might take a wedding trip to 6ome
new and far off place. Rush had seen
little or nothing of John in New York
during the summer, and ho was delighted
to know that he had settled down and
"? 1 X_ ^1- _ J 1
was determined 10 many mo uevoieu
girl to whom ho was engaged.
In tho meantime, the affairs of the
Mutuai Dividend Mining company were
becoming more and more involved, and
tho nature of tho work that John was
called upon to perform by Col. Mortimer
would not bear the light of day. John
was getting more and more reckless.
Ho drank deeper and played higher, and
didn't seem to care much what became
of him. Ho only went to see Leoni occasionally,
and she?poor girl!?was worried
to death about him. He told her
that luck was against him, and that it
always was against him when he tried to
do what was right; and that is what lie
tried to make himself believe. When
Rush camo back to New York from
his visit to Farmsted, John invited
him to dine with him at the
"Club," and questioned him closely
as to tho wedding preparations. Rush
was seriously alarmed by John's nppearnnco
and manner. There was a restless,
wild look in his eyes, and he started at
every strange sound. When Rush asked
him if ho was not well, he 6aid that he
was never better in his life. Ho ate very
little, drank a good deal and talked in
cessantly about Amy and the approaching
wedding. "So I am to bo married
September third, am I?" lie said. "Well,
I suppose I shall have to give up my
bachelor ways and settle down as a fami:
/ man. They're all waiting for the wedding
day, you say. Well, it's coming;
you can't keep it back. I don't say that
any one would keep it back. I only say
that no one could keep it back. Do have
a brandy and soda. Rush; it will do you
good. You fellows who stick to one
wine through a dinner are too prudent
by half. Good brandy never hurt any
one. You are going to bo there, Rush.
Every one's going to be there.
We'll have a jolly time at the
funeral ? I mean the wedding; but
where's the difference? They both start
you into an unknown country. Queer
world, eh, brother? Now tell me something
about mother and the girls. I
know they are well, but are they happy,
Rush??that's the point; aro they happy?
You may be bursting with health, but
what's health without happiness? They
are happy, are they? I hope they may
always be so, Rush; I hope they will
never be made unhappy on my account;
but it takes so little to make mothers and
sisters unhappy. They are naturally
nervous?a great deal more nervous than
fathers and brothers. Well, Rush, old
boy, you can't refuse me this toast" (rising
unsteadily to his feet): "Here's to
the dear ones at home, and may they always
love us, Rush, always love us as
we?what do I mean?"
"As wo deserve," suggested Rush.
John knit his brows for a second.
"More than that, Rush. That might do
for vmi hilt it would lipvpr do for mo
'May they always love us, no matter
what comes'?that's it, Rush. 'No matter
what comes, may our mother and
sisters always love us.'"
and said nothing for
-g^Tmoments. Then he broke oui..
"Queer things families are. Rush.
Look at> you and me. No one would
ever tak* us for brothers; we are as unlike
in feature as we are in character.
You know your duty, old fellow, and
you do it like a man; I know mine sometimes,
God help me, but I can't do it.
When I die, Rush, I want you to have
me examined. You'll find my heart in
the right place; but when you examine
my head you won't find my moral qualities
what they ought to be. Then you'll
forgive me for lots of things, won't you?
You'll say,'Poor fellow! His heart was
all right if his will wasn't as strong as
ours; we musn't be too hard on him.'
You'll say all this, won't you, Rush?"
And John leaned ucross the table and
seized his brother's hand with a tight
grip, and gazed with an expression of
intense longing into his face.
Rush knew, of course, that he was
flushed with wine, and lie supposed that
all this talk was merely the result of his
notations. To humor him, and because
ho really loved him, he replied:
"Have no fear on that score, John; we
know too well what a warm heart you
carry about with you to be hard 011 3-011
for a misstep."
Ho supposed his brother alluded to his
increasing habit of drinking.
"Thank you, old man; thank you inorc
than words can tell. I'm nervous tonight.
You mustn't mind me; another
pony of brandy will set mo all right."
And, suiting the action to the word, he
drank one down without winking.
"Suppose we walk around Madison
square," he resumed. "My head Is on
fire: these August nights are beautifully
cool; perhaps the air will help it."
On their way out they met Mortimer
in the hall. He looked dogged and sullen.
Seeing John, he beckoned him
aside and exchanged a few whispered
words with him. At something ho said
John started back as though he wero
going to fall, but he clutched the railing
of the staircase and recovered himself.
He looked so frightfully ill when he rejoined
Rush that the latter proposed that
they should go home at once; but John
said there was nothing the matter with
him?ho onl}- needed tho fresh air out
under tho trees of the square.
"Mortimer seemed to have something
unpleasant to tell }'0u," said Rush, as
they seated themselves on a park bench.
"I wish, John, that if you havo any
business troubles you would confide in
me; I might help you."
"Thank you, Rush, for your kind offer;
but it's nothing?a mero nothing; just a
fluctuation in mining stocks that may
hurt us, that's all. to-morrow, for all
wo can tell, they may look better than
ever. It's a wonying business. Take
my advice, Rush, and keep out of stocks
?particularly mining stocks."
John lighted a cigar, puffed it onco or
twice, and threw it away. Then ho sat
for several minutes with his hat off, engaged
in his old trick of pulling his hair
over his forehead. Jumping to his feet
suddenly, he took his brother by the
arm.
"Come along, Rush; I've kept you up
late enough; it must bo after 1 o'clock.
I'll walk down to your lodgings with
you."
They walked the wholo distance in silence,
which was broken by John when
they reached the door of the house. He
took Rush's baud, and holding it tightly,
said: "Good night, Rush; pleasant
dreams." Then, suddenly, "We've always
been good friends, haven't we,
Rush? We've never quarreled, havo we?
Philip and I havo iiad little lights once
in a while; but you and I, Rush, were
always good friends. When I die I'll
depend upon you to defend mo against
my enemies; you'll do that, won't you,
V/-,nMl urn tVinf. T liiivn .a Rhrcrl of
lvuau. ivunovw v..?? - ?
character left?just enough to bury
1110 in."
"I wish you'd stop talking about dying,
John; you'll livo to put a monument
over all our graves?a big, hearty fellow
liko vou." And Rush tried to laugh; but
his brother's manner, even inoro than
his words, impressed him unpleasantly,
and ho couldn't shako olf the impression.
It hung over him all that night, and all
tho next day, and long afterwards.
TO HE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.
BPriy Human happiness does not result
from bodily excellence nor from
riches, hut is founded upon uprightness
ot conduct.
?hc Cimfdmtelfat'. '
?/t;.
COMPANY B, TWELFTH S. C. 1
Bivouac and Battles.
'V (
BY MAJ. WM. 0. DUNLOP, ]
Formerly Captain of the Company.
. *
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. 1
During the night of July 4th, we t
retired from the bloody field of Get- J
tysburg, with our faces toward our .
darling southland. Through mud 1
and slush we urged our weary way t
the live-long night,"halting the next *
m Aviv uvn- nnni* 1? A1 <-1 TIT? ??
Uivilllllg 11V/UI X UIAUCiUi IC- Q
sumed the march about 3 o'clock p. j
m., crossing South Mountain through t
Maucer's Gap, and went into bivouac ?
about midnight. We remained in j,
camp while other troops passed, and
resumed the march at 3 o'clock p. m., I
passing through Waynesboro and i
bivouacking near Hagerstown. c
Here we disco voj?d<that the Feder- I
al cavalry had destroyed our pontoon fl
bridges, and that the Potomac was t
too high to ford. We, therefore, n
formed into line of battle to meet the t
enemy, who were pursuing our track 1<
at a respectful distance. c
We remained in position several p
days, with a standing challenge, 0
which Meade respectfully declined, r
On the afternoon of the 11th, howev- r;
er, he advanced his skirmish line and tl
engaged our outposts in a sharp con- 1;
test; and heavy skirmishingcontin- ii
ued, at intervals, in our front during tl
the 12th and 13th. On the afternoon h
of the 13th, the enemy reinforced C
their skirmishers, advanced and v
drove our lines back toward the I
breastworks. I was directed to take a
Company B and reinforce our lines v
and fheck the advance. We deployed
and advanced across a wheat field m
and met the Federals at a fence on h
the opposite side of the field, and b
here held them under a sharp fire n
until night intervened. fi
Our line covered a large brick sub- v
urban residence, in which the boys P'
found and appropriated a number of e<
jars of nice apple-butter. This we n
discovered to be a most delicious st
"smearing" for our unsalted mutton, sj
only which, without bread, we had A
to eat for a day or two, and we had 01
a jolly time that night eating mutton al
and apple butter. Meanwhile, it had ri
been announced at headquarters that d;
our pioneers had laid a pontoon across cr
the river at Falling Waters, and that hi
the river was fordable at Williams- hi
port. So before day on the morning ri
of the 14th, Gen. Lee withdrew from ir
the lines at Hagerstown, and divid- b<
ing his army into two columns, cii
dropped back and crossed the Poto- bi
mac, the one column at Williamsport, hi
the other at Falling Waters. The tl:
Light Division, with Pettigrew's cr
brigade of Heth's division, however, 01
were halted on the hill sides north of th
the river to protect the passage of the ai
troops at Falling Waters. We stack- cc
ed arms and disposed ourselves for a bt
rest?nearly every man falling asleep, m
Suddenly a strong body of Federal w
cavalry rushed upon us, tiring pistols ec
and sabreing everything in their way. ec
The sleeping bivouac sprang to arms ca
and without orders or organization at
began to fire upon and club the intruders.
Some, who had failed to re
reenvpr their arms, gathered up fence cu
horsemen.Tney mtTrrry^dariiig ec
on/1 rloclia/1 honlr 4- U ~ n +
***"* vuicnv^ Muyn. uyq LIU* nilI
sued by the ( on reel era res. \ve drove
thom hack some six hundred yards, at
and held them under a sharp fire un- di
til the troops had cleared the river, 27
when we were ordered to double- ar
quick for the pontoon. ne
I was so broken down that I felt sk
the order was unreasonable and re- al
fused to obey. The line withdrew, si.
however, at the double quick, and A
soon passed out of sight over the hill, fo
leaving me limping along leisurely w
behind. But when the enemy began a
to concentrate their fire and to knock bf
up the dust around me, it was amus- hi
ing to see,how rapidly I recovered 11
strength and trotted off down the fo
bill. All succeeded in making the at
passage without further trouble, and
we landed safely once more in Dixie, hi
M. A. Moore*, of Company B, was A
wounded in the shoulder?the only T
casualty remembered in the compa- ci
ny. The regiment lost 18 men and re
the brigade 121 killed, wounded and b(
missing, here and at Chambersburg. se
(len. Pettigrew was mortally wound- hi
r\/l .in/1 /Un/1 n f/Qiir rlorc affpr I 11
tu <uivi iuru a icu viajo ?
At 1 o'clock the next day we were di
in bivouac at Bunker Hill, twenty w
miles south of the Potomac, with ui
good rations, and were happy. We 'hi
remained here quietly resting, with U]
nothing to do but maintain our pick- cl
ets, wash and clean up, until the 21st, tl
when at about 1 o'clock we marched hi
oft' through Winchester and across
the Blue Ridge; and continuing the tl
march from day to day, we passed tl
Front Koyal, Chester Gap, Flint Hill c<
and Gaines's Cross Roads to Culpeper ol
court house, where we arrived about tl
noon on the 2Ath, in moderate condition.
We remained here just a pi
week, observing the movements of oi
the enemy and the ordinary routine w
of camp-life. Only one event of any w
historical importance transpired at c<
this camp. It was the renewal of tl
my acquaintance with an old personal tl
friend in the form of a blackberry ti
pie; and "it was a daisy." e'
On the 1st day of August we were e<
suddenly marched out on the War- t<
renton pike to meet the enemy, but cl
failed. We remained in position un- aj
til the :ird, when we marched off f<
through Culpeper, over the battlefield
of Cedar Mountain, and biv- tl
ouacked on Itobison river. We re- d
sumed the march at 5 o'clock next a
morning, crossed the Rapidan at Bar- ti
nett's ford, and went into cam}) about n
one and a half miles west of Orange r:
V UUi l' ll\/UOVi
The active campaigning of the f<
summer, we concluded, had now ti
ended, and so we went regularly into 2
camp, and settled ourselves for a v
season of repose. Keveille, surgeon's si
call, guard mounting, company and h
battalion drills, dress parade and b
tattoo were formally observed, which, A
with a light picket duty, consti- r
tuted our routine. Each successive a
day was the exact reflection of its li
antecedent. Our ranks were rapidly v
recruited by the return of the sick a
and wounded from home and hospital,
and vacancies in office were 1:
tilled by promotion, appointment or t
election. Gen. C. M. Wilcox was t
promoted to the rank of major-gener- x
al and assigned to the command of a
the Light Division. Colonel Abner \
Vonrtoontli rptrinient. t
i cum, vfj. i?.v- ,
was promoted to the rank of briga- i
dier-gencral, and temporarily assign- a
ed to the command of McUowan's 1
brigade. Lieut.-Col. Henry C. Davis, a
of the Twelfth regiment, having re- ^
signed, Major K. F. Lookter was pro- 1
looted to the rank of lieutenant-col- s
onel, and C'apt. Frank Clyburn to
the rank of major. s
Officers of the line, entitled to pro- s
motion by seniority of rank, were s
required to appear before unexamin- <
ing board, and receive the endorse- i
ment- and recommendation of the 1
board before promotion. Lieut.-Col. <
Hunt, of the Thirteenth regiment, t
Major Alston, of the First, and C'apt. 1
Dunlop, of the Twelfth, constituted t
the board of McGowan's brigade. i
Some time in September, Long- i
street's corps was transferred to the i
Army of Tennessee, and about the i
same"time Meade sent a detachment '
to North Carolina, and another to 1
New York; the latter to quell the 1
riots which sprang up about this time i
in opposition to the enforcement of 1
the draft. And later, a still larger <
detachment from the Army of the i
Potomac was sent West. <
On the 25th of September, we had 1
a little brush with the Federal caval- i
ry on the Rapidan, at Liberty Mills,
with but slight damage to either side.
In the absence of the large detachments
sent off from the Union army,
lien. Lee determined to turn Meade's
position in Culpeper and force him
io battle, or to withdraw his forces
Tom his front. Accordingly, on the
)th of October, about 5 o'clock a. m.,
,ve struck camp, crossed the river at
Spice's ford, marched twelve miles
md bivouacked near Madison court
louse. On the 10th, we marched fifeen
miles and bivouacked near Robson
river. On the 11th we marched
leven miles in the direction of Culleper,
expecting to strike the enemy
n flank, out Meade had discovered
he movement and he fell back along
he Orange and Alexandria railroad.
)n the 12th we marched at 9 o'clock,
rossed Hazel river and bivouacked at
Imosville. We heard heavy firing in
he direction of Warrenton Springs.
)n the 13th we marched at 5.30,
rossed the Rappahannock at Wateroo
Factory (ourned) and reached
Varrenton about 2 o'clock p. m.
Ending the town evacuated, we went
nto bivouac. On the 14th Ave marchd
at 7.30, took a circuitous route for
Jristoe Station, and heard heavy
iring in the direction of Catlett's Staion.
About 2 o'clock in the afterloon,
the head of the column struck
he enemy at Bristoe Station, and the
sading brigade of Ileth's division,
ommanded by Gen. Cook, made a
irompt and vigorous assault. But
Jen. Warren, Avho commanded the
ear of Meade's forces, hugged the
ailroad as lie pursued and covered
lie retiring Unionists. Consequenty,
when Cook appeared he had nothug
to do but front his lines behind
lie roadbed, when he was ready for
attle, and well fortified. The North
'arolinians made a gallant fight, but
fere repulsed with heavy loss. The
light Division reached the field
bout 4 o'clock, and went into line
*ith Anderson and Heth.
Ewell was on Meade's track and
re expected every moment to hear
is guns, when we should attack,
ut nothing was heard from Ewell;
ight came on and there was no
ght. When next morning broke
'0 found that Warren had disapcared
from our front. We remain1
until about 4 o'clock in the afteroon,
when we began to retrace our
:eps. The lGth and 17th were
lent in destroying the Orange and
lexandria railroad, and we bivuacked
on the night of the 17th
:iout a mile from the Rappahannock'
ver. We rested on the 18th, (Sunny),
resumed the march on the 19th,
ossing the river near the railroad
ridge on pontoons, and went into
ivouac about three miles from the
ver. Here we remained without
icident until the 8th day of Novem?r,
when the enemy surprised and
iptured nearly the whole of Hayes'
rigade of Early's division, which
id been posted on the north side of
le river near the bridge. Then
ossing over they moved against
ir lines south of the river. We met
lem on the first rising ground,
ul after a brisk and determined
imbat, repulsed and drove them
ick. We then fell back to Cedar
ountain, marching all night. Here
e rested about an hour, and resuml
the march at sun-rise. We crossl
the Itapidan and reached our old
.mp, near Orange court house,
>our 1 o'clock p. m., on the 9th.
Without further disturbance we
mained in camp, resting and reiperating,
until the 2(>th, when a
airier reported the enemy crossing
"eookT nttions and prepare1 to move
4 o'clock the next morning. Accorngly,
at 4 o'clock a. m., November
th, we packed baggage, struck tents
nl moved off toward the Wilder?ss.
We marched eighteen miles,
:irmishing with the enemy nearly
1 Uiljr , illlU HVIil 1I11U U1M/UUV
x miles west of Chancellorsville..
fter shifting our position back and
rth several times, on the next day
e settled and began to fortify upon
commanding ridge, at the eastern
ise of which flows the insignificant
it now historic stream, "Mine
un." On the ifith we completed our
rtifications, and awaited Meade's
tack.
Here the Rev. John Watson, who
id succeeded the Rev. J. Monroe
nderson to the chaplaincy of the
welfth regiment, as had been the
istom of his predecessor, held a short
ligious service with the regiment
ifore the battle began. During the
rvicethe commanding general with
isstaff, accompanied by (Jen. A. P.
ill and staff, passing along the lines,
iscovered the attitude of worship in
hich the men stood. He halted,
ncovered his venerable head, closed
is eyes and in deep reverence sat
pon his horse until the service
osed; a scene for a picture worthy
le skill of Raphael, or the masterand
of Machael Angelo.
There was desultory firing here and
lere along the lines, and now and
len a sharp conflict, as the Federal
immandcr felt our position in search
ft the most eligible point to make
ic attack.
Late in the afternoon, Warren reorted
favorableconditions forassault
11 the Confederate right; and Sedgick
discovered, as he supposed, a
eak point on the left, and each rejived
orders to make the attack at
le points indicated, at the same hour
ic next morning. A re-examinaon
of the Confederate right, howcer,
by both Meade and Warren,
mvinced them that Lee was ready
) meet the assault, and that the
liances of defeat were as two to one
gainst success. The order was thereire
countermanded.
With the perception of a master in
le art of war, the Southern leader
iscovered the mind of his adversary,
nd he determined to make the atick.
Accordingly, on the 1st, he
lassed a formidable column 011 his
ight and perfected his preparations
>r assailing the enemy's left 011 the
illowing morning. But lo ! when
tie sun arose 011 the morning of the
nd day of December, not a Federal
ras to be seen in our front. We purued
their track for several miles,
ut Meade had made good his escape
a the north side of the Kapidan.
Ve then retraced our steps, and
eaehed camp about 1 o'clock on the
fternoon of the 3rd. This was our
iist active service for the year, and
re settled ourselves as comfortably
s possible for the repose of winter.
A strong picket line was henceforth
naintained along the south bank of
lie Rapidan, extending from Cane's
o Barnett's ford. And during the
viiiter, in addition to our daily drills
nd other necessary camp duties, we
i-orn ovoroiuorl in frnnfl Weather, ill
he construction of plank and turn>ike
roads for the convenience of the
trniy. Our clothing was comforta>le,
rations were sufficient, and wood
uui water convenient and abu. mint.
A'e were cheerful, contented and
mppy in our little city of tents and
hanties.
We built a comfortable chapel of
labs, in which to bold our religious
erviees, where we had one or more
ernions from the different chaplains
if the brigade and visiting clergy nen
everv day. A deep religious
eeling pervaded the camp and scores
if conversions resulted. In addition
(i these public ministrations of the
^Yord, we organized a Soldiers' Chrisian
association in the brigade,
vbich held weekly public meetings
it some convenient central point,
or conference and prayer. And in
line of the ten companies of the
Twelfth regiment, we had our regular
family altars, from which the holy
incense of prayer and thanksgiving
ascended to Heaven from devout
hearts, morning and evening, at rollcall,
uttered on behalf of the company,
by some member, usually by the
captain or one of his lieutenants.
These nine, by consent, established a
mission in the tenth company, and
furnished a brother to lead its members
in their family devotions.
It was an impressive sight, and a
fact worthy of historical notice, to
see ten companies of brawny veterans
standing in line at the opening
or close of day with heads bowed
and eyes closed, reverently rendering
unto their gracious Benefactor the
homage and worship due unto his
name.
A system of furloughing was inaugurated
about the middle of December.
At first two, and irom
time to time the number was increased
to eight men to the hundred, and
one commissioned officer out of four,
present for duty, were granted furloughs
and leaves of absence of from
fifteen to thirty days, according to
the distance to be traveled, to visit
UliUC llllHC Llldl IIUIIICT ItllU liillll J ICS* .
SouLh Carolina troops received twenty-one
days.
With but one or two interruptions
by the Federal cavalry, the story of
our camp-life continued about the
sam' through the months of January,
February, March and April, 1864.
About the 1st of March, however,
on my return from leave of absence,
I found that a battalion of sharpshooters
had been organized in the brigade,
and that I had been assigned to its
command. My connection, therefore,
with company B now closed,
and henceforth the command of the
company devolved upon Lieut. M.
V. Darwin.
Company B made 110 petensions
to style, in the way of high living or
fashionable dress, during these campaigns,
but did claim as brave hearts,
as pure patriotism, and as proud a
record as any company in the Army
of Northern Virginia.
And now, to the memory of the
heroic dead, their widows' and orphans,
as well as the survivors of
this gallant company, are these
sketches affectionately inscribed by
the writer.
^liscfttiincous fading.
THE ONE GREAT DRAWBACK.
Front tin: Manufacturers' Record.
The immense undeveloped wealth
of the South is universally conceded.
The opportunities open to men of
moderate means to become wealthy
by wise investments are fully understood.
The numbers availing themselves
of these openings are increasing
in almost geometrical ratio. Every
day?as our weekly issues tes-tify?great
and small enterprises are
begun, and the scope they cover
widens continually. All this adds to
the material wealth of the whole
country and to the individual wealth
of thrifty Southerners. But all these
enormous gains to the South have
had, from the day they began, one
great drawback. They have given
to many individuals and communities
throughout the South absurd
ideas of the value of their lands and
localities. In these days of patent
outsides and insides, the village
weeklies furnish their readers with
whatever is selected for them by the
providers of miscellany for their
columns. In this mass of matter are
frequently accounts of the wonderful
growth of new towns and the money
made by the original land owners.
Ar* nlc-A nvo nf flia fdltulnilG
VI VIOV VliVlV 41A V- Iinvo VI vnv imvuivm^
price some farmer has obtained for
worn-out land because some kind of
valuable ore has been discovered in
jjUiuTito?' utiro
the people, and pretending to have
found some valuable mineral on their
land, persuades the unsuspecting innocents
to pay him a fee for examining
it and writing a report. His
victims, dazzled by the glowing pictures
of great wealth that will be
theirs if they follow his advice, pay
down their dollars cheerfully, read
over and over with great glee the
splendid report and show it to all
tneir neighbors.
No newspaper, no well-informed
citizen, is at hand to explain to such
honest but uninformed folk how great
cities have sprung up magically in
the midst of forests or old fields.
They have none to tell them that the
means for development was secured
by the land proprietors taking capitalists
into partnership; that the latter
spent a great deal of money before
any returns came from it; that
had not such been the case the forests
and the old fields would have remained
as they were to this day. So
? xi?/lohulurl rvno
in iiicirKiiiipiiui^ iiic3cuciuuv,u j/iu
pie, thinking of what they have
heard or have read, rejoice in bright
visions of unrealized but expected
wealth, and put tremendous prices
upon property when any one asks its
value. The result is that there are
hundreds of spots in the South, small
towns and farming districts, that
might have been humming to-day
with the music of machinery, that
have lost their opportunities for this
generation at least. And there are
at least as many more that will have
offered to them, within a year or two,
equally good opportunities, that will
throw them away.
This foolishness?the result of a
lack of information?is "the one great
drawback" to that universal progress
which would send the sunshine of
prosperity into the lowliest cabins
and the stateliest mansions of the
South. To dispel this ignorance, to
enlighten the minds of the masses,
is a work in which the Smith's agricultural
teachers, its newspapers and
its intelligent men of all pursuits
might engage for the benefit of all.
THE USE OF FRIENDSHIP.
There are many people to whom
the chief use of friendship seems to
be to abuse it. A friend to most of
us is more or less consciously a per
? ....... fni.lf ftlllv
SOU WIIUI11 \> l" UIU(V WV..II lavr* v....^
with loss ceremony than we do others,
hut with less justice as well. To
presume upon the good nature of a
friend is one of the most insidious of
all the temptations with which weak
and feeble human nature is beset, and
it is one of the most frequent successful
ones. We are all of us so likely
to be guilty in this respect, that it is
hardly safe for any man to begin on
this score to fling stones at his neighbor.
It is so easy to excuse ourselves
for wrongs which are not resented
that sometimes one wonders whether
after all, conscience is not at least
three parts out of Ave respect for
somebody's opinion of us.
And the worst of this is that we almost
inevitably respect our friend
somewhat less for submitting to our
ill usage of him. We do him little
injustices, triflings which he is too
fond of us to resent even when he
feels them, and out of his generosity
we make an excuse for holding him
of less account, and consequently for
loving him less and imposing upon
him more. This is often the history
of the course of married life, one or
the other of the couple yields too
much and too often, moved by over
much affection to give way, and the
result is that he or she wins only a
more or less conscious contempt. The
truth is that even in friendship we
are all human, and it is well to reflect
that if one desires to hold the regard
of his friend it is necessary to hold
also his respect. It is sometimes wise
to displease a friend for his own good
and for the sake of holding his affection
up to its level.
This is, of course, looking at the
thing from two points of view. On
the one hand it is the tendency of all
of us to take advantage of our friends;
on the other, it is most unwise for
any one to allow a friend whom he
values to do anything of the sort,
and the comrade upon whom we attempt
to impose is really most kind
to us when he resolutely resists such
an encroachment upon his rights.
He compels our respect, and after the
irritation of the moment, if we are
so human and so generous as to feel
any, as it is most probable that we
shall, has passed away, the increased
respect in which we are constrained
to hold him calls our affection up to
a new height. Our best friend is by
no means the one who most completely
effaces himself that our selfishness
may have full play. Friendship
that is worthy the name is built
upon a more enduring basis, and its
use is nobler than the mere indulging
of unbridled selfishness.?[Boston
Courier.
HOW HE CURED CYRUS.
"This ere athlectics and gymnasiums
is all wrong," said the old
man, as he laid down his paper and
began to shuck a three-ply peanut.
"I've had a sample of it in my family
and I know how it works."
itaii ko15ai?a in 011/1U avn*
XJ\J 11 V J-UU UCiltVC 111 OUtll CAU1 cise
for a young man ?"
"Wall, the exercise may be all
right, but the fellers get false ideas in
their heads. Take my son Cyrus, f r
instance. Cy was a little inclined to
consumption and I rayther encouraged
gymnastics. It wasn't three '
weeks before he begun to git sassy.
1 give him a lickin' one day and I '<
could see he didn't take it kindly.
He begun to put on airs over his
mother, and when I cum to inquire
around a leetle I found that Cy was
on the box. He was a holdin' up his 1
dukes and a knocking the boys right 1
and left. I overheard him talkin' to i
our Bill about 'position,' 'guard,' i
'break-away,' 'knock-out,' and sich, i
and every day he got sassier and 1
sassier. He was eighteen years old,
but I alius lick my boys till they are 1
past twenty. I saw that Cy was go- <
ing' to buck. Thar was Bill and (
Tom and Jerry to be affected by his t
example, and I felt that sumthin' (
orter be done. One day we was a t
hoeing corn and Cy was off. I didn't
mind it fur a while, but bine-by I a
got riled and said: a
" '.Seems to me you are achin' fur 1
a lickin'.'" \
"Mebbe I am, father." he replies, 1
as cool as ice, "but I shan't' git it. r
I've been licked fur the last time." t
" 'Cause why ?' I asked. I
" 'Cause I won't allow it.' f
"Then I knew that the time had a
come when he'd got to have sum- i
thing stronger than hoss medicine. '
He'd got the big head on him tre- I
menjus, and it was then or never. 1:
"'Suppose we walk over to the a
barn, Cy ?' I keerlessly remarked as g
I finished a row. t
"He said he was my huckleberry,
and we dropped our hoes and went, e
When we got inside we both begun k
to peel by mutual consent, and Cy c
carried a grin all over his face. He'd p
heen put on to a new upper-cut two a
or three days before, ana he was a c
calkerlatin' on spilin' my chewin' n
machine at the fust blow. He look- s
ed the jim-dandy as he squared off, I
and I rayther anticipated the wust. t
I never fit in my life, but when he o
squared off I was bound to down n
Cyrus. Says I: "
"l(!v. will von onit vour !?nrl t.
knuckle if I don't lick you ?" ?
"And he said: 'Father, raise yer s
dukes a little higher, and look out t
fur me!' h
With that he tapped ine on the o
store room with one hand, cuffed my C
ear with the other, and I sailed in. 1<
He gave me one on the tooth-box as p
I closed in, but arter that the gate t
money was mine. I throwed him o
into the manger, over the fannin' g
mill, behind the granery, and I was o
rnin' tftjnin him thrnnrrli ttin nnrn 11
worked a mighty sudden cure on k
him. Swellin' all went out of his A
head that night, and when I licked li
him with a cornstalk next day he 1<
was as humble as a calf. Gymnastics a
is all right up to a certain p'int, but a
when you git beyond it it's dangerous, p
'Sposen I hadn't come out on top of {.
Cy! Why, sir, he'd bin bluffin' me
outer the house by this time, and
probably had a match with Sulli- >
van!? P
? v
THE COLLIE MAIL CARRIER. ?
An exchange tells us of the follow- p
ing: "Dorsey is a fine Scotch collie, p
and has the distinction of being the r
only dog regularly employed as a ?
letter carrier in the world. Dorsey p
has for more than three years carried ?
the mail between Calico, San Bernar- p
dino county, and Bismarck, a mining p
camp between three and four miles c
away, over almost impassable moun- e
tains. Calico is a stage station and t
has a postoftice. Without the aid of p
the dog many a miner would have a ?
hard time getting his mail, as the s
country is very rough and steep in q
places, and most of the year the s
weather is very warm. Dorsey be- \
longs to the postmaster at Calico, and v
in his youth was not anything more s
than a common puppy. The way the ^
dog became a mail carrier was as t
follows: One day the postmaster j
wanted to send word to his brother at tl
Bismarck, but did not want to make s
the trip. It occurred to him to try j
the dog. He wrote a letter and tied j
it around the dog's neck, pointing {
the dog's nose toward Bismarck, and r
then told him to go. He trotted off ^
a short distance, and turned about to \
see what else was wanted. Some of
the small boys showered stones at
him and he ran on to Bismarck. ]
Next day he returned with an an- c
swer tied on his neck, and he showed J
that he had been well treated. The t
experiment was repeated, each time >
with success and additional dignity 1
on the part of the dog. As soon as {
it became known that Dorsey could 1
be depended upon, requests were con- 1
stantly made by the miners to send i
their mail by him. The loads soon ]
increased, and it became evident that <
they could not tie on all the letters, t
The miners then ordered a handsome i
little mail bag and fitted it to the dog's i
.shoulders. It is fastened arounu ins i
chest by one strap, and around his <
body, back of his fore legs, by another. .<
He has never missed a trip for about
three years, or lost a letter. Now,
when the stage comes in he gets up, ?
stretches himself, walks to the post- office,
waits to have the mail strapped *
on him, and starts off as soon as he is j
told all is ready. He will go a long ]
way round to avoid meeting a stranger,
seeming to realize the impor- 1
tance of his mission." 5
Smoking Boys.?Science gives the j
following significant fact concerning
the results of smoking by boys: <
"In an experimental observation '
? * * " ,,x 1 ? ?11 nlnoonu af ^
oi tnirty-eigiu wi mi naoavo v?*
society, and of average health, who j
had been using tobacco for a period '
ranging from two months to two ,
years, twenty-seven showed severe
injury to the constitution and insufficient
growth; thirty-two showed ,
the existence of irregularity of the
heart's action, disordered stomachs,
coughs and a craving for alcohol;
thirteen had intermittency of the ,
pulse, and one had consumption. (
After they had abandoned the use of
tobacco, within six months' time onehalf
were free from all their former ,
symptoms, and the remainder had
recovered by the end of the year."
The prevalent juvenile smoking is
one of the greatest evils of our time.
It is of such magnitude, and is so
much on the increase, that it should
awaken solicitude and vigilant opposition
on the part of all good men and
women.
Reasons foh Sunday R^t.Tlie
question of Sunday work has, of
course, a moral side, and it is that
side which most strongly influences
many who are striving to lessen the
evil." Physiologists are universally
agreed that men need, for purely
physiological reasons, one day's rest
out of the seven. There is plenty
of evidence upon this question, all
pointing in the same direction, and
the conclusion is inevitable that the
almost universal desire of workmen
for rest 011 Sunday and their strong
objection to working continuously
every day is the result of a natural
physilogical law, and which, like all
other laws of the kind, cannot be violated
without some one having to
suffer the penalty.
There is good reason for believing,
asserts the American Machinist, that
many railroad accidents ar& directly
traceable to physical and mental exhaustion
of trainmen, caused by the
strain of severe and exacting duties,
performed without relaxation for a
period of time beyond that which
is allowed by Nature. And in the
case 01 street railway employees,
who are required to worlc from
twelve to sixteen hours every day,
Sunday included, it is probable that
society suffers, and will suffer a large
share of the penalty. For the presence
in the community of a considerable
body of men to whom civilization
means almost, if not quite, nothing,
upon whom society has imposed
burdens almost intolerable and infinitely
heavier than are imposed by
Nature as a condition of living?we
say that the presence of a body of
men living under such conditions is
a menace and a danger to republican
institutions.
"LADY ANDTEXTLEMAN."
Since the abolition of slavery, the
terms "lady and gentlemen" have
become so popular among negroes in
ipplication to each other that the
upper classes in the South have almost
been driven out of the use of
U rni/i /m?dnnfiiwA/-1 HP/"* K/t
UU1UIIUXCU HUIU^I X KJ ?A
spoken of simply as a man or as a
tvoman is a great slight in the eyes
if a negro. The most uncouth tatterlemallion
of a crop hand is a "gen:leman,"
and the most ignorant and
legraded negro woman a "lady," in
heir phraseology.
Some years ago I attended a negro
vedding, at winch the bridegroom
vas so sable that charcoal would
lave made a light mark on him,
vhile the bride's complexion was in
larmony with his own. The clergynan
performed a marriage service
hat seemed to be copied from the
Episcopal liitual, but he made the
ollowing changes (or improvements,
is he considered them,) on the origilal
text. Instead of using the terms
'man" and "woman," he asked the
iridegroom, "Wilt thou take this
ady to be thy wedded wife?" and
sked the bride. "Wilt thou take this
gentleman to lie thy wedded hus>and
?"
Not the most remarkable use I
ver knew a negro (or any one else)
nake of the term "gentleman," oeurred
at a negro baptizing. The
ireacher was in the act of immersing
convert in the river. He pronouned
over him, "I baptize thee in the
lame of the Father, the Son?" when
uddenly his memory failed him.
Ie vainly tried to recall the rest of
he formula. At length, turning to
ne of the church elders who stood
iear him, he whispered the question,
What is the name of the other genleman
?"
If anv other proof were needed to
how tliat hold to the docrine
of tri-persomdiry-hT--HiT--Gxlti=_^
leau, ic wouiu utj iuruiMii-u u> uu
ccurrence that happened in North
Carolina, a few years ago. A balDonist,
resplendent in a spangled
ink costume, and wearing a gilt
iara on his head, happened to alight
n a field where a primitive old nero
was plowing. The latter was
verwhelmed with awe, believing
:ept him speechless and motionless.
Lt length recovering his faculties a
ittle, he advanced toward the balxmist,
to pay his obeysance to him,
nd after a few pious ejaculations,
sked, "And how did you leave your
a?"?[M. W. Early, in Portland
Me.) Transcript.
City With a Secret Govekn[ext.-Thecity
ofWatertown, Wis.,
resents the unique example of a city
without a city government, says the
It. Paul Pioneer Press. Some years
go, in a fit of thoughtless generosity,
he city voted a large amount of
onds as a bonus to an incoming raiload,
an amount so large that it
hreatened to bankrupt the municipality
if paid. To avoid paying the
bligations, the city officials, except
hose of a minor degree, resigned and
3ft the corporation in an acephalous
ondition. Now the officials are
lected annually, meet in secret, vote
he appropriations necessary to keep
he municipal machine greased,
ransact whatever business is necesary,
hand in their resignations, and
nee more the street commissioner, or
-vX* mn /IntrroA isZ
ome one <?j i:uout me auuii/ uv^>v%<
n charge. The railroad has tried in
'ain to find an officer on whom to
erve a summons. Detectives have
teen in the city hoping to surprise
he secret council meeting, hut the
nterests of the people are so united
is to prevent a successful coup of that
ort. In fact, instances have been
mown when the meeting was being
leld in an upper room of a business
dock while the emisaries of the railond,
armed with formidable legal
locuments, were watchfully patrollng
the sidewalk below.
8?" There are some thrifty sons of
2rin in Bridgeport, Conn. One re
lently bought a lot of land ior nve
rnndred dollars, and built thereon a
wo thousand dollar house. Then he
vent to get it insured. "I want a
>oIicy for twenty-five hundred dolars,"
said he to the agent. "Hut the
louse only cost two thousand dolars,"
was the reply. "Faith, but I
vantall my money protected. I'll
lave twenty-five hundred dollars in;urance
or nothing." "Hum," said
:he agent, pausing. "I'll tell you
what I'll do, though. I'll put two
thousand dollars on the house, and
ive hundred dollars on the land."
'Begorra, and vou're a gintleman,
>ir!"
There is a curious railway-tie
lurser.v near the town of Earlington,
Kan., in the southern part of the
state. It is the largest artificial plantation
of forest trees in North America,
and is owned by the Southern
Pacific. The different sections have
^een planted, respectively, two, four
md six years. ()ne-fourth is planted
with the alianthus, the rest with catalpas
and a few white ash. Those
first planted are about twenty-five
feet in height, the last about twelve,
some of the taller are about seven
inches through the stem. There are
in all eight million trees in full vigor
xl, .% 4-.1+ ; Onf r\f
Uii iue>K piaiiiaiiwur?. uui \/* wuvijv
trees will come the railway ties of
the future.
jfeir In the Calcutta High Court, recently,
Mr. Justice Norris delivered
what is probably the shortest summing
up made by an Indian judge. It
was a case in which two native prisoners
were accused of robbing the
complainant on the Maidan by what
is known as the "bead trick." On
the case for the prosecution being
closed, the accused said they had
nothing to say, and his lordship, in
delivering the charge, said, "Gentlemen
of the jury, the prisoners
have nothing to say, and I have
nothing to say; what have you got to
say?" And the jury said they were
guilty.
JSTOf tree species there are over
aiv lnnwlrnd kirwl*; listnd hv thfl rf>n
sus report for the United States
alone?three times the number existing
in Central Europe. This
list includes all that grow with a
single woody stem, regardless of
size, this being the technical characteristic
of a tree. When to these are
added the several hundred bushes,
shrubs and vines that have a marked
autumnal color in our country,
the material at nature's hand surpasses
that of any other region in
the world.
J