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lewis m. (xBist, Proprietor. J |ln Jndfptnfynl Dtarapajtr: <^oi[ the f)roniotion of thq flolitioal, jSonal, g^iiultaipl and dfommnjtial Jntcr^ts of the $outh. J TERMS?$2.00 A TEAR IN ADVANCE. " vot. .S7. YOEKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26, 1891. NO. 29. ;f||l .1 Vo* hud no idea how unickly nature, if | THE SOUTH CAROLINA ASYLUM. I snapbeans, 112 bushels; watermelons, which if watched will glide away in I ^ ooa . oona 84 bushels, etc. the same manner. The writer of this She Jtorn i mm k!| By J. E CONNELLY. h [Copyright by American Press Association.] s ^ C^HAPTEB L . When he ttang of love. Tradition has dealt somewhat ronghly with the reputation of the Barnegat folk of half a century ago; but that is hardly to be wondered at. It is quite as much as a live man can do nowadays, even by giving * good deal of attention to it, to protect his good name, so what "show" j ean the necessarily silent dead be expected . to have? The fact is that the "wreckers of Barnegat" were not by any means so black as they have been painted. That modest claim in their behalf scarcely seems sufficient, for the same thing is proverbially said of the devil, so we may iu strict justice go farther and affirm that among them were not a few very excellent men and women who never lighted false beacon fires or swung a ship's lantern from a cow's horns. Unhappily there were then many wrecks on that dangerous coast, for warning lights were not so numerous as they now are, and the loss of life in those disasters was great, since there was no such well organized and admirably equipped life saving corps as we at present have. When the wrecks occurred the dwellers on Barnegat bench assumed that all rights of flotsam md jetsam were theirs, and perhaps piously viewed the casting ashore of a rich cargo as a special providence in their behalf. But the cruel treachery of luring a vessel to destruction by means of false lights was an infrequent crime?whatever sensational legend makers may say to the conA *">?< ippw numbers of brave 11 (U J (UiU kitv* v _ strong men there who many a time heroically risked their lives to save shipwrecked persons from the terrible waves that in stormy weather thundered upon thoee sands. David King and his stalwart sons, Donald and Andrew, were among the foremost of those who habitually so distinguished themselves. No one was more daring and indefatigable in capturing valuables from a wreck than were the Kings, but they would at any moment abandon the most tempting piece of salvage to save a drowning sailor, and that could not be truthfully said of all their neighbors. There was those who averred that this eccentricity brought the family good luck, and this imagining had not a little good effect in encouraging others to emulate their humane example, so that in time it came to be noted that wrecks were much less fatal in their neighborhood than upon other parts of the beach. Janet Bang, the only daughter of David, had almost as much strength and dexterity with the oars as had either of her brothers, and was quite their equal in courage, which is equivalent to saying that in all the qualifications demanded for existence on Barnegat in those days she had no superiors in the community. And a consensus of the opinions of the young men in the vicinity would have unqualifiedly sustained the affirmation that in point of good looks she had no equals. Of course othei wninon wiw defects in her style ol " beauty. They affirmed that her eyei were too big and black, her wavy raver black hair altogether too long and heavy the voluptuous roundings of her finelj developed form quite too pronounced But that was to be expected. The girL of Barnegat were not radically differeui from other girls. Janet was not simpb "pretty" or "good looking," but actually beautiful to a degree that awed thi young fellows about her, caused them t< feel awkward in her presence and mad them shy of attempting advances to her however wistfully they looked upon he from a respectful distance. But one day there came a big, blu eyed, flaxen haired young hunter fror the distant city of New York who wa not so easily abashed, but rather inspire by beauty, and who very promptly mad his admiration for her quite apparent. Selden Rangelv was, he said, hi name. He had been duck shooting u about the mouth of Forked river unt success became monotonous, and leavin his boat in the bay he had wandere along the coast aimlessly until he read ed the hamlet where the Kings wei leading citizens and found shelter i their house. There was in his mind half formed purpose of strolling on i far as May's landing, or perhaps eve farther, but it was quickly abandons when he got one good look at Jam King. Where she was his journey, t felt, was ended. And why should he g farther and certainly fare worse? It wi bitter, bad November weather, so ii clement that hardly one day out < three was tit to go ducking in, and tl roads?in the few places where any e. isted ? were execrable. Only a fo would think of exploring the New Je sey coast at such a season when he hu the alternative of settling down by warm fireside and making love to Jan King. With some initial difficulty he pe suaded her father to accept him jis boarder, despite Mr. King's protests th he knew nothing about keeping a hot and did not wish to. "But it is the eminently correct thii that you should," argued Selden Ranj ly. "I always live in a hotel, and wot have to pay board somewhere else if r here. I want to stop here a few wee anyway, and could not think of doing at your expense. I would not be able rid myself of the idea that I was tr passing on your hospitality. So I ins upon being allowed to pay you at 1 same rate I would pay at my hotel New York." So he had his way, and the sum tl fixed by himself was so liberal that fairi v tnok awav the beach man's brca Large as it was, David King accepts at first with reluctance, but very s< began to find it quite pleasant to rece weekly the bright gold pieces that guest drew from an evidently abund stock in a heavy leathern money b Gold was at no time so abundant Barnegat beach as to be viewed with difference even by the* Kings, who u "well to do folks" there. But, inci ible as the fact was, the stranger did seem to care for it. They concluded t i "he must have slathers of money," an estimation of that sort at least c not generally tend to render its sub unpopular. Janet was fascinated by the hands* stranger himself, quite independent! his wealth. He was really the first < ? cated, gentlemanly man of the world had ever met, and, by contrast with young men she had known, seemec her quite a superior sort of being, wonders of the big, active world outside .the stagnant oool of Barn* each life, concerning which she had ?' nly vaguely drcjimcd, liis conversation h rought vividly before her, and she list- tl ued to him as if in an enchanted dream, i 11 ometiines, in the solitude of her little : 0 oom, the thought rushed upon and over- 01 rhelmed her that she knew so little and a le so much that ho must despise her for ler ignorance, and she cried herself to d leep. So unsophisticated was she that i ^ ho did not yet know beauty to be more ? han wisdom or strength or even wealth. An old guitar hung upon the sitting t oom wall It was a relic of some wreck v ind simply decorative, for nobody upon v ;ho beach could even tune it. But Sel- ' len Rangely's skillful fingers evoked 1 Tom it the mast entrancing melodies c uid witching chords that, blending with ? lis strong yet mellow voice, thrilled her strangely when he sang of love. Love! Not until now had any one ever sung or said aught about love to her. But he 1 did both. He told her that ho loved her ] with all his soul, and rowed to do so for- * ever, and * ? new heaven and a new * earth" seemed to open before her. No ? question of his sincerity disturbed her ' ? < happiness, for her lovo lor mm was us jH'rfoct jus that which he professed. ! Her parents looked dubiously upon ' brothers, and they with Janet made a majority in the family council, so there was hardly a shadow of opposition on the part of the old folks to the mar- 1 riage of Selden and Janet, which took place in the month of February. About the middle of April Selden ltangely announced that it would be necessary for him to go to New York on business, but his trip would brief. His programme had been fully discussed with his wife. He would draw some money from the bank, buy some things he deemed his wife should have, replenish his wardrobe, order nn agent to buy and furnish a house, and within a fortnight ho would return with the great surprise for Jauet's father. David King's cherished dream of the unattainable, as he frankly admitted it, was the ownership of a big first class schooner, on which he should be the master and his two sons the mates. That dream Janet's husband vowc-d to her should be realized. Nothing would be easier for him. Had he not more tlwrn sufficient money for it lying idle in the bank for lack of opportunity for profitable investment? He would simply draw out the necessary sum, bring it home, and put it in the old man's hands as a j great surprise. j Secretly Janet felt that she would I have liked dearly well to accompany her husband and see the great city, but as he did not propose that she should do so she was too proud to seem to force her company upon him when he did not ap- : pear to want it. And her love readily j found excuse for him. His business would demand his attention, she said to herself; naturally he would. find it inconvenient to be bothered with a woman?one who knew nothing of the ways of city life, and would be wholly depeni dent upon him for direction and com? * * panionship. it he went aione u? wuuiu come back all the sooner?within a fortnight, he said. So, assuming a cheerfulness that she was far from feeling, she kissed him good-by and he departed. The fortnight passed, and more fort| nights after it, yet he returned not. And no letter came from him. He certainly j should have written. Even if none of | the King family could read writing he j might have known they could get some ; friend to tell them what was in his letI ter. That was what David King said. But Janet excused him. "He would not," she said, "write a j letter to me for somebody else to read, and so long as he might not w rite to his i wife he would write to nobody." But her heart was sore; she felt very ! lonely and an indefinable anxiety dis! tressed her. CHAPTER H. In the latter part of May, during a violent and protracted northeast storm, the hermaphrodite brig Fannie B., of Liverpool, was cast upon the Barnegat ( sands, not an eighth of a mile from the j homo of the Kings. She had aboard a 1 I number of passengers, several, of whom | were drowned, but among the saved were two, a young mother anil her child, I who were rescued by Janet King, or, to j give her the name that properly was | hers, Mrs. Janet Raugely. The woman, J j with her little daughter clasped iu her 1 arms, essayed to reach the shore on a 1 hatch, in company with a couple of sail ors who launched it after lioth t lie brig's' - -J A l~??- i? y. | his conscience and to Gcd. 1 nave in li right to demand this, to say what sha! o be done to him. I am the one mot ! deeply wronged, and I forbid your seel iug to avenge mo upon him." "Do you mean to tell mo you forgiv ; him?" hotly demanded the old man, wit j the fierce fire of his Scotch blood blaziti | in his eyes. "No, 1 cannot say that," she replie j huskily: "that is too much, but I bit my time. I will not have your det i bruit my shame abroad to the world." "There's something in that," assentt I her father grimly, "so we'll bide a bi Waiting is not forgetting. Ho'll 1 main glad to greet his wife, no doubt." i It was a keen thrust, and she felt it; ho meant she should, but she answer* : with stony calm: ^ "She is innocent. She has harmed i: j not. For why should 1 break her hea with the knowledge that he is as fal 1 to her as to me?" CHAPTER III. jut ' ' ~ ~ "'~ She inilcklu cut uu'uy the sutler knot JUS ith j At dusk one evening ten days lul led j Janet, chancing to go to the door i jn look out toward the beach, notice iew | scuffle among three men at such a * . ju j tanco from her that in the indisti j10 light then prevailing she could not ith- termine positively who they were or ,e> actly what they were doing. Two .qjo them she fancied were her broth he i Donald and Andrew, but of the idon W!ls ; of the third she had not even asuspici gal- outcry came from the strtiggl u to i ?r?up, and taking it for granted ) iur_ they were simply indulging in the ro iled i wrestling and horseplay common am ,0]e. the younger henchmen she turned I. lVit- ; to her houseliohl duties. But aftt into 1 minutes a strong impression flat hJed I upon her that she should go out tl boats bad been swumpeu <u< u 1UOV* 3 the surf the great unwieldy hatch was t tumbled over and over, whirled and f j tossed about like a feather in a cyclone, T so that all who were upon it were swept 0 off and engulfed in the roaring breakers. One of the sailors never reappeared, e and the other was hurled ashore more '? dead than alive seemingly. As for the r woman, the tiger of the surf seemed tc play with her like a cat does with i e mouse, one moment bearing her in as il a to leave her on the sand, the next carry s i ing her out again in a wild swirl of th< d white spume and froth of the angry sea e Courageous Junet, standing on th< beach, saw her so being done to death, an< 18 without a moment's hesitation plunge< P into the waves after her, seized her b; the hair and dragged her to land, uncon ? scious but alive. In all her struggle d with death the mother had not loosene* | her hold upon the child, a pretty littl 'e golden blonde maid of two years or there n about. Both were resuscitated witl a j little difficulty and sheltered in the hous 18 of David King. 3; je j to '' Janet seized her by the hair. 80 That evening the woman, fully reci t? tired but snugly ensconced in wai fs- blankets, told her story to Janet, w ist by the be<l to keep her compai She said: in "I came from Manchester, Englai to join my husband, who h:ts been livi ins in Philadelphia for a year past, and it now expecting our arrival, little imag th. ing how near a tiling it has been to lit never seeing either of us ag in. He hud ??n flee from England, but foi nothing tl i^e he need be ashamed of. A man with wh his ho was associated in business robl aQt him outrageously, and they fought alx elt. it. In self defense against a murder* ; 011 knife ho cracked the rascal's skull w in- a bar of iron and thought he had kil 'ere him. He would liave been justified red- doing so, but they were alone; he kn not that he could not prove the deed don< hat self defense, and in fear of arrest and fled that same night to Liverpool, w loes out waiting even to sav farewell to 11 ject "From Liverpool he managed to est; to this country. Until last October Lime deemed himself a murderer, and y of haunted always by the fear of the 1 . du- lows, but in that month ho met fao she face the man he thought he had 11 the dered. The wretch's skull had hei 1 to up as good ;is new, and, having a wh Tho some fear of the consequences of in far ing the police to make any inquiries pgat 1 his affaire, he had never even couuilai f having been assaulted. When my ! ai usband learned that, and not until V len, he ventnred to write to me, telling j n le the story and directing me to come n ver with Edith as soon this spring as n cean travel should l>e safo and ideas- tl nt." c "Weil," replied Janet smilingly, "you id not find it either safe or pleasant, tl nt you are all right now, and in a few s ays will bo with your husband again." ii "Yes, thanks to you, brave, noble girl t hat you are. And you shall see that he t rill be grateful to you for saving his t rife and child He is no poor chap, able r or nothing more than a 'thank you, 1 na'am." He has done right well in this t ountry. His firm is well known. No j ' loubt you have heard of him." f "What is his name?" j 1 "Selden Rangely." i Janet stared at her in horrified amaze- f nent, speechless, feeling a strange wild 1 whirling in her brain, vaguely wondering , I f she were really awake and had indeed j I leard that name or if a nightmare possessed her. The light in the room was < lim, and the woman failed to see the leathly pallor that spread over the girl's Face, did not notice her silence and un- | nerved sinking back in her low rocking ;hair, but just prattled on heedlessly and I ansnspectingly aboijt her hnsband, her ; i baby and herself, the narrow confines of j i her world. At length Janet spoke. Her throat ' * ? 1 1 ..nA Beemed dry, her wnue u(h HUIU MUU stiff, and sho shivered as if with cold, but sho forced her voice to ask: "Does your little girl look much like her father?" "Oh! she is the very imago of him. The same blue eyes and light hairlighter than his, of course, because she is only a baby yet, you know?but as much like him as?well, you will see for yourself when he comes in person to i thank you for saving his little Edith's ! life." Janet went out and walked on the beach in the darkness alone. She could j not see where she was going, but that did not matter. The rain was falling, , but she was not conscious of it. With j her arms folded tightly across her breast, i her fingers clinched in her flesh, her jaw i set hard, and her wide eyes fixed upon vacancy she moved slowly, mechanically, trying to think. So that woman was his wife! What, j then, was she? A wreck. Love had couio into her life with the suddenness i of a storm and stranded her hopelessly, j His blue eyes had been false beacons for her. Ah! how cruel had been his treach- j ery! He swore that he loved her, would love her always, and she?poor, weak, credulous, ignorant fool that she was? 1 had believed him. Oh, how she had trusted him! how she had loved him! | And all the while he was simply amusing himself with her betrayal, laughing in ins sleeve at her foolish faith and fondness. And when the time had come for : him to go and receive his wifo he had 1 * * Kli'irlvfo/1 I gone, lightly leaving hw iu u? life of loneliness, sorrow and shame! How was it possible that one who looked so noble could be so base? How could | his lying lips promise a lifelong love to i her when in his heart he knew that his j wife, the woman he really loved, was ' coming across the sea to him? And what | a mocking fate it was that it must needs be she, herself, and no other, who should j drag that woman out of the waves, back i to life?for him! Oh, had she but known?no, no! Not that. She would do it over again. But, O God! how hard it was to think of and to bear! She did not take any heed to where she was going until she walked into an arm that the rising tide had flung across the beach, and was almost carried off her feet by a strong and stealthy wave. : Then she turned and went home, treading more firmly, as if her agonized and turbulent thoughts had settled themselves in a formulated purpose of action. 1 Outside the door, standing in the dark I with his tarpaulins on. she encountered | her father. "I got sort of anxious about you and j started out to look for you," he said. "Where hare you been?" "Taking a walk. My head was hot ! and I wanted to cool it." "Woman aud her baby all right, I j suppose?" f "Yes." whn she is?" uiisa one j \*i+ .. ' "Yes." "What's her name?" "Mrs. Selden Rangely." "What! not" | "Yes, his wife; from England." She spoke in a hoarse whisper, and i (Kissing him entered the house without j another .word. Mr. David King re, 1 tnained outside u long timo, freeing his i mind in phrases that doubtless made tho | recording angel sigh, j The next day Mrs. Raugely and hei J child started in a beach wagon for Torn't j river, where they would be enabled t( , take the regular stage for Philadelphia, j Not only did Janet suppress the hid } eous discovery she had made and nerv< t herself to reply smilingly to the woman'i f untiring iterations of effusive gratitude and bid her "good-by and godspeed' j when she took her leave, but the poo girl even found arguments to restraii ? her father from executing a design tha \ he had formed the night before. H j wished to accompany the woman on he v journey that she might unconsciousl; ; lead him to his vengeance u(>ori the be s trayer of his child. But Jauet said t j i him: H i "You shall not do so. Leave him t ad ascertain what had been going on. | th /ithout knowing why she found herself th aiming at full speed to the place. E'ark- W( ess had fallen very suddenly, owing bj ot only to the setting of the sun but fcj hie rising in the moonless sky of heavy loads, precursors of a coming storm, Close down by tho water, however, i cj he frothy whiteness of the breaIcing tl: urf seemed to a little dispel the obscur- j tl ty, making not exactly light but rather ? ho ghost of light for a small space on i lc he sand, and there she stnmbled over b> he prostrate body of a man. She drop- ! xr >ed upon oue knee and laid a hand upon t b dm, in so doing sensing by intuition h hat it was he whom she had called 1 g 'husband." It was too dark to see his j ]{ ace, but she felt the thick, soft curls of j ^ lis hair and knew him. Yes, it was ; b jelden Rangely, with his feet tied to- ; p jether, his arms securely bound behind 1 r, nnd ft twisted handkerchief jj 1X3 wwun, WM?. M forced between his jaws as a gap and j knotted tightly at the back of his lead. H She tore the handkerchief away and j f lemanded: u "Who did this?" \ "Donald and Andrew," he replied y gaspingly. y "Are you hurt?" j "Somewhat bruised and strained., that I t is all. They pounced upon me so gud- : ienly and unexpectedly that there was j no chance for much of a fight." j He spoke slowly, breathing hard. For ; a moment she hesitated. Had not her ( brothers a right to vengeance on their s Dwn account? Had ho not brought ( jhaiue upon them, too, through ner? She ] might bo willing to leave his punish- i meut to a higher jwwer, but if they were < not should she presume to interfere? j Then in an instant the true nature of the j , temptation flashed upon her, and her i thoughts returned to harmony with her ' , nobler self. But her voice was cold and hard as she asked him: "Have you a knife?" "There is one in my right vest pocket." ( She found it and quickly cut away the , elaborate sailor knots with which they liad made him fast. Whil e she was busy doing so he asked iu a bewildered way: \ "Why the mischief should Donald and , Andrew have jumped on :me?" "You should know," she answered dryly. "I should! Well, I'll bo shot if I do!" "You'll bo shot anyway, if father comes hero before I get you out of this. Andrew has gono to bring him." "Ah! Then there is no timo to be j lost." "And Donald has gone to get a boat. What is all this you have about you in- j sido your clothing? "Gravel. They stuffed my clothing with it in order to, as Donald was good enough to explain, 'anchor mo out se- ' curely in deep water.' It really seems to mo the most extraordinary reception ever tendered by a family to one of its members. I wish you would explain it if you can." "There is no timo for that now. A j i minute's delay may cost you your life, i ' Follow me closely and shake that gravel out when you get into water too deep for ; > it to make a splash." She led the way straight into the surf, j wading out so far that only hex head j j was above the surface, he obediently folI lowing close. Then, standing near him, ' she whispered: "Do not raise your voice. Sound trav- ! i els on the water. Wo ure safe here from : | being seen, but not from being: heard. : j Why did you dare to come back here?" ! "I came to my wife " "From your wife, you mean." "No. I don't mean anything of the i sort. What do you mean?" "Hush!" They stood still, listening to the low grinding sound of an oar rapidly plied < as a scull which passed within ton yards of them, and could just discern, dimly outlined against the murky sky, the figure of a man stunding in the lxwit. It was Donald King, going to the l>each for the man he proposed to "anchor out." I When he had gone by they waded on along j the beach parallel with the shore, still i keepiug only their heads out of water. "This is terribly hard work," complained Selden. "It would lie much j easier to swim, if wo must stay in the I water." . "In this darkness we would lose direction and might go out to sea. The depth guides us." HI.*,., atmnrrrlml nil. but the man's ilU ! 1UC/ Oil V.., ? j patience could not long bo restrained. "For Heaven's sake, Janet," he ap! pealed to her, "tell me what all this ! means!" ; "It means that I am not going to let j my father and brothers stain their 6ou Is i | with murder for the righting of my i | wrong upon a wretch like you." "A wretch like me! Why, aro you t crazy, Janet? I know I've been away a j good deal longer than I expected to bo, ) ! but I can explain" "There is no time for explanations now, and they are needless anyway. Facts i : explain themselves. Your wife and child 3 have been here. That is enough." , "My wife and child! Oh, but this is ' i maddening! I swear to you that I" r | "Take no more oaths, Seidell Rangely. i Here we have reached a boat, and?yes, t thank God! the oars are in it. Climl e into it and row for your life! Get away r from here as fiist and as far as you can, y Listen! They have met and found the severed ropes. You hear them cursing o ; They are in deadly earnest. If the; catch you they will kill you like a dog o And you deserve it. I do not save yoi e j for your sake, but for theirs. Go bad II to Philadelphia to your wife, and ma; it God in his justice deal with you as yoi have deserved by your dealing with me!' Seidell Rangely was momentarily to e intensely petrified by astonishment t< h 8i>eak or move. When he had reeov g ered himself Janet had altogether dit ! appeared. Instantly upon the utter >d anco of her l:wt word she had dived am le swam away under water, ho could no d toll in what direction. There was mar: ifestly nothing for him to do but tak k! | her advice, for the present at least, s t. he clambered into the boat, took up th je oars and set himself energetically to th putting of as much space as possible Ik us tween himself and his inexplicabl >d brothers-in-law. Janet succeeded in uuobservedly r< ne entering the house and changing her wi ,rt clothing for dry long before her fatln so and brothers came in. Indeed she ha retired to her own room and was pr paring for bed when she heard them ei fi?, cniinil ,,f their steps can u;r, uul im m?. ? ... i out again to see that they got the su IH;r left standing in the kitchen for thei and to lightly chide them for their u j wonte<l neglect of the evening ine;i They looked at her sharply, but the: was nothing in her manner to betr; that she knew aught of the contemplate tragedy or had any sharo in the frustr tion of their plans. "Well," she said, having taken up t ^ food before the tire and placed it on t y kitchen table, "everything is either cc ' - or dried up now, but you will havo make out with it as you best ea Mother went to bed an hour ago. Wh you are done throw this cloth over t table. I will clear up the dishes in t morning." She retired again to her room. k. "She had nothing to do with it," It.Tiied Donald in a low but positive to: lIl({ as if in answer to a previously oflei (1 a suggestion. "Hadn't we letter tell htr?" Jiskeil J i drew in a whisj>er. de- "No," replied his father. "You ? cx. never know beforehand how women v 0f Lake things; never be sure when tl L,rSi cease to love. I'm afraid the poor f thinks too much of him even yet. ion sides, we've made a Jioor fist of t ling Might's job, and there's no call to t hat about it now or any other time, ugh j had him i" onr bands and let him ong away. The more shame to us!" ack "He may have been djused when ,r H ; got himself 1chis?> and floundered i the surf," suggested Andrew, tere i "There's some littles hope of that," sensed the old man, "since he is not ?ft, alone, will restore things to what j re term "primitive conditions." \ If a great city was deserted in these I oothills, within twenty years' time the j a live growths would creep down and , n upon it, start plantations of chaparral ! *'R u the streets, festoon the houses with So dues, while winged seeds would fill the "J1 gutters and cornices with verdure.. It is a" i hard,struggle through the undergrowth Pe o Pot Hole Bar. No man lives there *"U( 10 nr. No man goes there. Even the fr( xnvlder piles and bare ledges of fifteen '8' rears ago, marking the scarifying work 90 if your race on mother earth's face, are oyi iow mounds overgrown with weeds. UI What solitude of ancient ruined cities l)l rtjuals this? Their former thousands are er nothing to you as individuals, but you knew all the boys at Pot Hole. It was a til favorite after supper trip from Dry Bar ui to Pot Hole to see how the "boys" were ki getting on, and vice versa from Pot Hole ai ~ 4' e beach,' and we nro pretty sure 01 ; at. But if lie should still be alive, and ^ e get another chance to lay hands on v in, thero must bo no second failure to 11 him." f * # # # ? V Witliin a week they had another \ mnce. It was on a hot afternoon, when 1 1 ic whole King family were gathered in v ic shade before tho house. Mrs. King ? it on the door step knitting; tho old c tan, perched on one end of a water 1 * utt, smoked and watched his sons 1 tending a seine that had been torn ' y a shark; while Janet, standing beside 3 er mother, seemed lost in reverie, her ( aze fixed dreamily upon the ocean's J izily heaving waves of green and gold. ' . broad wheeled beach wagon, drawn ' y a couple of tough, shaggy little . j onies, came creaking from the highway, ' ounded the corner of the house, and as ] t drew up before the family group anet's husband* sprang down from be- i I ide the driver. At the same moment, rom the back seat of the vehicle, lei.jxxl , duplicate Selden Raugely?tall, veil milt, frank faced, flaxen haired and 1 due eyed as the original?who aided in j ter descent to the ground a plump little july with ji child in her arms, Mrs. tan gel v arid Edith. "Oh, you poor dear!" exclaimed the i inpulsive Englishwoman, precipitating i lerself and baby into Janet's arms. 'What a lot of trouble I have innocently caused you! But how was I to | luppose tluit Sel had a cousin in this country when they did not themselves inow it? How was I to know that there { svas any other Sel in the world but my i 3elr Janet's husband took up the burden of 1 ?xplanntion. "I think you will listen to me now, Janet," he said, with a merry twinkle in j his eyes. "At all events, you cannot get : away from me by diving this time." David King and his sons looked eig- : nificantly at each other, and Donald j uttered a half suppressed "Gosh!" for J those few words made them understand Janet's share in that mysterious escape. "When I went to the city I found my ; father very ill. He was a hard, austere ' man, who had planned my life for me ' in the way ho wanted it, and not I, so we did not get along very well together. But so long as ho did not know of my marrying without his consent ho softened a great deal toward tho last and took me into favor again completely liefore lie died. When he piussed away I came back here for my wife, and at her suggestion went to look up any possible Mrs. Rangelys Philadelphia might harbor. You seo I have found one, her husband, too; and in so doing discovered a cousin I never dreamed of having. It npiKiars that my father and his brother quarreled in boyhood, and thereafter ignored each other's existence all their lives. But each having a son, gave to him, as it hapi>ened, tho same old name of Seidell, which is historic in our family, and I do not think any one, looking at the resemblance Iwlween us, can question our relationship. Now, Janet, my own dear wife, what is iny desert?" "My love and unquestioning trust forevermore," she replied, yielding to his fond embrace. THli END. grtiscctliuicous $tndiw|. SOME RECENT ANTIQUES. | PRENTICE MULFORD WRITES OF THE DESERTED MINING CAMP. | A. Pilgrimage to Dry liar Mud? Shortly | Reforo the Return to the States. I Ghostlike Vision* of the Past?Cull| lug the Roll of the Old Croird. [Copyrighted by the Author.] XV. : X fiVAS soon to leave fo he eastern states. Whe: realized that 1 w is go ug I found to my sui rise that I had made ome in Califori in, tha ; was an old home an bont it clung a:l th memories and associations of an ol home. I wanted to visit the mines an 1 ;ake farewell look at the camps where I ha 1 lived and worked in a i>eriod now fa ' j becoming "old times," and I straightwa ( went. ! The term antiquity is relative in i | character. Twenty years may invoh i an antiquity as much as two hundred < ] two thousand. Indeed, as regards sei i .nation and emotion, the more ncent ai tiquity is the more strongly is it realizi and more keenly felt. Standing todi ! on the hillside and looking down on tl ! site of the camp where you mini i twenty-five years ago, and then goii down that hill and treading over th site, now silent and deserted, and y< I realize, so to speak, a live antiquity. ! ?? Htwicnt Greece or Rome are co J cerned. their histories wouhl tuiike : different impression on us if dated t '* hundred years ago or six thousand. V are imposeil ui>on by these rows of 1 pliers. They convey realty no setiso lfc time's duration. They are but matl l* matieal sounds. We know only tl 0 ' these nations and these men and worn 0 i lived, ate, slept, drank, quarreled, c< 6 ; eted, loved, hated and died a long til 10 ere we were born, and that of it all have but fragments of their history, 0 rather fragments of the historj of a f i prominent individuals. But when you stand alone at Dry 11 where yon mined when it was a livi 2r camp in with its score of mud ** j sluice streams coursing hither n c" ; thither, its stores, its saloons, its hi 11" i and its express ofliee, and see now 1 10 j one rotting pine log cabin, whose r I'" has tumbled in and whose sides h; n? tumbled out: where all about is a sil n* waste of long worked off banks or b ledge and piles of bowlders in which ro herbage has taken root; where ev *y mark of the former h.onses and eal j has disappeared, save a mound here il" j a pile of stone indicating a former eh uey there, you have a lively vealizat | of antiquity, though it he a recent < You knew the men who lived here; worked with them. You kno.v tiles of the houses in which they lived; ,1, | have an event and a memory for e\ en acre of territory herealMiut. Downlh ho where the river narrows between tl ^lL> two high points of rock, once stou , rickety bridge. It became more more sliakv and dangerous, until "f* day Tom Wharton, the justice of jM'.ace, fired by a desire pro In no puli r,,'l ! and rather more than lii.s ordinary qi tity ol' whisky, cut the bridge a with his ax, and it floated down sire Over yonder, on that sandy [mint, an the richest claim on the Bar. rill Will you go down to tie- Pol 1 Bar, two miles below? The trail rat tifl the river. But freshet after freshet He- rushed over the hank and wijieil out his track made by the footprints of a alk years. Tin re is no trace of the t We qqi,. chaparral has grown over tfet quite closed it up. Here and thenfaint trace, and then it brings tips he I against a young pine or a buckeye, nto ; growth of the last ten years. Yi 1 former days this path ranked in 'w- i mind of the importance of a town st i on to Dry .Bar. , , A cottontail rabbit sends a flash of w white through the bushes. His family t e< now inhabits Pot Hole. They came I si back after all of your troublesome race ii had left, and very glad were the "cot- I tl tontails" of the riddance. There is a broken shovel at your feet, and near by i c in the long grass you see the fragment o of a sluice's false bottom, bored through b with auger holes to catch the gold, and d worn quite thin by the attrition of peb- s ble and bowlder along its upper surface. v This is about the only vestige of the D miner's former work. Stop! On the c hillside yonder is a moundlike elevation, cand beyond that a long green raised a line. One marks the reservoir and the 1 other the ditch. t It was the Pot Hole company's reser- ( voir, built after they had concluded to take water from the ditch and wash off a point of gravel jutting toward the river. They had washed it all off by ' ~ * '* 11? ??? <1ioKnnf1o/1 * ]85(3, una men mo cuiupauj and went their respective ways. Pot J Hole lay very quiet for a couple of years, 1 hut little doing there save rocker wash- j ing for grub and whisky by four or five 1 men who had concluded that "grab and whisky" were about all in life worth liv- ( ing for. A "slouchy" crowd, prone to bits of rope to tie up their suspenders, 1 unshaven faces, and not a Sunday suit among them. Thpy have long 3ince gone. They ure scattered for the most part you know ; not where. Two are living in San 1 .Francisco and are now men of might and mark. Another you have heard of ; far away in the eastern states, living in j a remote village whose name is never i heard of outside the county bounds, i One has l?een reported to you as "up j north somewhere;" another down in i Arizona somewhere," and three you ' can locate in the county. That is but j seven out of the one hundred who once dwelt here and roundabout. Now that j recollection concentrates herself you do | call to mind two others?one died in the I county almshouse and another became j insane and was sent to Stockton. That ! is all. Nine out of the one hundred i that once lesided at Dry Bur. It is i mournful. The river monotonously j j drones, gurgles and murmurs over the I riffle. The sound is the same as in '58. I A bird on the opjiosite bank gives I fortli at regular intervals a loud queruj lous cry. It was a bird of the same I species whose note so wore on the nerves I of Mike McDonald as he lay dying of j consumption in a big house which stood yonder, that, after anathematizing it, lie would lieseech his watcher to take a gun and blow the "cussed" tiling's head off. Perhaps it is the same bird. The afternoon shadows are creeping down I the mountain side. The outline of the hills opposite has not at all changed, and there, down by the bank, is the enormous fragment of broken rock against which Dick Childs built his brush shelter for the summer, and out of which he was chased by a sudden fall rise of the river. But it is very lonesome with all ! these jieople here so vivid in memory, yet all gone, and never, never to come ! back. Here it is. The remains of your owu cabin chimney a pile of smoke blackened stones in the tall grass. Of the cabin every vestige has disapjieared. You built that chimney yourself. It was an awkward affair, but it served to " 1 ' ...l..,.. carry out tne siiiokc, mm : you surveyed it with pleasure and some ' pride, for it was your chimney. Have : you ever felt "snugger" and more cozy , and comfortable since than you did on i the long, rainy winter nights, when, the : supper finished and the crockery washed, r 1 you and your "pard" sat by the glow11 j ing coals and prepared your pijies for H ! the evening smoke? There were great . i hopes and some great strikes 011 Dry h I Bar in those days; that was in '52. ,t Mining \vas still in the pan, rocker and d long torn era: sluices were .just coming 0 in. Hydraulicking 100 foot banks and d washing hills off the face of the earth had not been thought of. Tho dispute a as to the respective merits of tho long d vs. the short handled shovel was still st going on. A gray or red shirt was a ,y badgo of honor. The deep river beds were held to contain enormous store of i golden nuggets. River mining was in re | its wing and coffer dam phase. ;>r 1 Perhaps tho world then seemed youngii er to you than now? Perhaps your mind ti- then set little store 011 this pictnresqut _>d spot, so wrapped were you in visions ol iy j the future? Perhaps then you wrot< tie , regularly to that girl in the States?youi id 1 first heart's trouble?and your anticipa ig tion was fixed entirely 011 the home to b< nt built up there on the gold you were t< au dig here? Perhaps the girl never mar :>o ! ried you, the home was never built an< in- nothing approaching the amount of on 110 expected dug out. You held, then, Dr; iix Bar in light estimation. It was for yoi Ve only a temporary stopping place, fron ei- which you wished to get its gold a of quickly as you could and get away fror 10- 1 as soon as |>ossible. iat You never cxjiected Dry Bar, its men en ories and associations thus to make fu iv- themselves a "local habitation and ne name" in your mind. \Ve live sometime we in homes wo do not realize until muc or of their material part h;is passed awnj i'w A horned toad scuttles along tho dr grass and inflates himself to terrify yo ar, as you approach. Those ratlike groun idy squirrels are running from hole to lioli Idv like gossiping neighbors, and "chi] m l ping" shrilly at each other. These ai itel old summer acquaintances at Dry Bar. out Is it with a feeling of curiosity yc " '' lllllllll'll 1 (??if take tip out; ui iuu?u niUUV.>i .. ive you thirty-one years ago, and woudf cut how like or unlike you may lie to you are self at that time? Are you the sail the man? Not the same young man ee ery tainly. The face is worn, the eyes dee rins er set, the? hair more or less gray, at , or there are lines ami wrinkles where not im- existed then, lmt that is only the on ion side of your "soul ease." Suppose th me. you, the John Doe of I.HSII. could ai you should meet the John Doe of iy5 ites Would you know him? Would y< you agree on all joints with him? Con ery you "get" along with him? Could y< ere, "cabin" with him? Could you "sumui lose and winter" with him? d a Would the friends of the John Doe and who piled up that chimney, be t one friends of the present John Doe, w tiie stands regarding its ruins? Are the I ilieo liefs and convictions of that J. Doe thi i.an- of this J. Doe? Are the jokes deemed way clever by that J. Doe clever to this am. Doe? Are the men great to that J. E was great to the present J. Doe? Does now see the filmly, frothy fragments lole scores of pricked bubbles sailing aw i |n- and vanishing in air? if a man vliosh j1;l*s ho live again? But how much of a ma ' mind may die out and lx> supplanted . \ other ideas ere his body goes back .v dust? IJow much of this J. Doe belor ra,l. to that J. Doe, and how much of 1 and same man is there standing here? is a Pukntick Mui.Fonn hurt the frit' A child having two tongues \ t in born the other day at Hunting! your W. Va. It was female child. S rcet. pose it grows to womanhood ! ? h* Noble Charity that In an Honor to j the State. ma How many readers of The Enquik- ^3 . have a comprehensive idea of the Pr< uth Curolina Lunatic Asylum ? Not ref my, I venture. Very little is said mt out this institution in the newspars, except sometimes as an important - * Hp jtor in polities, and jus the subject 01 ? jquent appropriations from the leg- aa ature. In fact, the expense is kept ae prominently-in view, that many of "e ir people have been taught to look aa ion this noble charity as a grinding lrden, resting heavily on the should- *' s of the taxpayers, and absorbing an ich a large portion of the revenue of .J le State as to be a constanjt source of ^easiness and dauger. Everybody "J nows that its maintenance requires a' i annual appropriation of more than ar 100,000; but comparatively few know J? here and how that money is expend- ? J. Under the circumstances, it is not irprising that there should be so much rc idifFerence, if not open opposition, to ?< le institution. c' On tlic other hand, however, let any itizen of the State visit the asylum""-" ne time. Let him go through the' a uildings and grounds, see the tremen- * ous proportions of the institution, oberve the magnificent system every- e /here prevailing, and the most com- a aendable pride with which all the offi- e era watch over and perfect the various a letails under their respective charge, ^ tnd the visitor goes away proud that le is a citizen and a taxpayer in a State ? hat seeks its glory in the maintenance >f such institutions. 0 BUILDINGS AND GROUNDS. j I was in Columbia recently, and, j lpon invitation of Captain Iredell j [ones, a member of the board of regents, availed myself of the opportunity to go through all the buildings ind grounds, as well as the farm that 1 is run in connection with the asylum. ( The asylum is on the northeastern i outskirts of the city, overlooking the , town to the southwest, and on the , other side overlooking the farm and a long stretch of plantations extending to the horizon. The main buildings - -i-J are two in number?one erecieu iu i 1822-25, and the other just previous to I the war. The two buildings together | comprise the largest institution in the i State, public or private. The asylum | proper, contains over 800 rooms, and ! furnishes accommodations for upwards j of 1,000 patients. The grounds, comprising probably ten or twelve acres, are perfectly level, carpeted with grass, beautifully shaded, and inclosed with brick walls about twelve feet high. These grounds are, I of course, cut up in sections for the I various uses intended?sections for the j male patients, the female patients, col- j ored patients, and sections more or less j exclusive, as the circumstances of the unfortunate inmates seem to require. But any portion of the vast establishment is too extensive to admit of any detailed description, so I will confine myself to generalities. THE INTERIOR. On reaching the main ollice, I was I introduced to Dr. J. W. Babcock, who had just taken charge as superintendent; Drs. J. L. Thompson and L. G. Corbett, assistant physicians, and Mr. J. W. Bunch, the recently appointed treasurer and steward and secretary of ' the board. After a pleasant chat with these gentlemen, I was turned over to Mrs. \V. A. Carter, the well known matron, who, with distinguished ability, has been discharging the duties of that position since 1876. As the first object of interest in the tour through the institution, I was shown the chapel. This is a pretty little sanctuary, handsomely furnished, and has a seating capacity of 250. Here, Mrs. Carter said, a large number of inmates delight to gather every Sunday and take part in divine service conducted by Rev. E. A. Bolles. From the chapel we went to the amusement hall. This is also fitted up in elaborate style. The seating capacity is about the same as that of the chapel. At one end is a large stage, provided with all necessary apurtenances?drop curtain, scenery, electric foot lights, signal bells, etc. Here the patients amuse themselves with frequent entertainments, consisting of minor theatricals, tableaux, concerts and dances. Several of the patients are excellent performers on the piano, violin and other instruments, and with the assistance of the attendants, they are often enabled to give entertainments I that afford the keenest pleasure not j only to the audience but to the perform' ers as well. I was next shown through the female ! wards. Of these there are ten, classiI fied in accordance with the condition j and mental requirements of the in i mates?the more intelligent, milder am; ! | least affected patients being allowed I greater liberties, and provided witl such amusements as are calculated tc afford the most complete diversion I 1 Some of the women were playing 01 } i the pianos, and some were reading f and still others were engaged in croehe ; ! and embroidery work. Much of thi r work is very pretty, and requires j . ; great deal of ingenuity, patience am 3 skill. The kind matron had a pleasan , i word to say to each, bestowing praise asking for infoimation, and makinj 1 such comments as seemed to deligh > i nearly every one of the unfortunat l* ; creatures that she met on the way. x From the quieter wards we passe a through those in which the more vie a lent patients arc kept. These, howevei a seemed to he generally quite tructabh Hut a glance into the faces of any c i- them is sufficient to determine tlni r . they are entirely bereft of reasoi a ; Mrs. Carter explained that sometime! s i as then, the poor creatures are quit h ' calm, but at other times, their violent r. is so great as to tax the resources < y the attendants to the utmost in kee] u ) ing them under control, d Alter passing through the female d 2. ( part men t I was shown through tl !> male department. This is under tl re general charge of Supervisor Willia Crawford, who is now in the thirt; ,u eighth year of his service. The ma *i' department, however, differs in no e L'r sential particulars fiom that of the I r" male department. 10 r. I.At NDKV, KITCIIKN, KTC. p. Next I was shown into the laundr id where all the clothes for nearly SIM) i :ie mates of the institution are lauudrie it- This work, with the help of steam ai nt machinery, is done almost entirely 1 ul female patients. i3? The kitchen, too, is another big : ju fair. Furnished with an immcn Id range, a large bake oven and sten ju boilers without number, here food ei prepared for. including officers, after ants and all, probably 1.0(H) people, of perhaps a dozen or more cooks and i he sistants. k? THK FA KM AND CKKAMKItV. >e- , )SQ The wood shops, shoe shops, maehi 60 shops, and electric light plant, et j will have to be left out in this limit )oe description, for want of space, but lie would not be fair to close without si 0f ing something about the asylum far Uy This is a most important adjunct to I all institution. It consists of 2(m acre.* n's lirst-class land, ineludingthe plantat by ou which Dr. Parker secured his fa oils yield of more than 200 bushels corn from one acre. That portion the farm under cultivation is devo almost entirely to corn, peas and g den vegetables, and the yield of vej. ivas ables is something like this : Sweet on, tatoes, SOU bushels: Irish potatoes. up- bushels : beets, .'>,320 bunches; oni< j 1,100 bunches: cabbage. 7.210 Ilea vim , x , -- , \11 these vegetables, besides a great is ? ,ny more, arc consumed in the aftc ,'lum. But this is not all that is strs xiuced on the farm. The board of his jents is just now perfecting arrange- of j mts for a big creamery, to supply the ; all lole institution with butter and milk. ! froi ir this purpose they already have a rd of twenty-three Holstein and Ayr- A ire cows, and Secretary Bunch has ma en instructed to at once increase the sul rd to fifty. And in the meantime, the immense barn, large enough to Fa elter them all, is well under way. an< lis barn is a pet project of Mr. Bunch wa id of the board of regents. It is 60 it r 126 feet, and buts into a hillside ev< whith is built five great silos, capa- ur< e of holding enough ensilage to feed ' 1 the cows for two years. These silos inf e each about thirty feet deep and coi n feet wide by twenty feet long, fal hey are now being filled with ensilage bit om the cornfields. The corn, in it tasting ear stage, stalks and all, to- th< jther with peavines, millet, etc., is m; it up as fine as possible with a steam mi utter, and thrown into the silps until m; Mguuttfull. Then the air is excluded, so nd the green food thus prepared will so eep indefinitely. The whole farm seems to be under in xcellcnt management, and bids fair in ai few years more, to become a consid- to rable source of revenue over and lu hove the supplies that it is expected in o furnish the asylum. tl Of course the labor of the inmates is ci omparatively an insignificant item. If ["here is nothing compulsory about it, hi md they are only required or allowed ai o work as they have inclination, ai LTanv nf t.hpm. however, seem to like T t, and are actually worth a great deal d nore than their expenses. si THE MANAGEMENT. From what I saw of the manage- 81 nent, I would say that it is all that ~ ;ould be desired. The board of regents, n ;he supreme authority, is composed of c well-known patriotic gentlemen?one *1 From each congressional district and two s From the State at large?as follows: v Dr. B. W. Taylor, chairman, Columbia; ^ Dr. A. N. Talley, Columbia; Col. John g Rhett, Columbia ; A. H. Hayden, Char- ( leston ; Captaiu Iredell Jones, York ; j John C. Wilson, Newberry; I)r. J. C. ( Mullins, Marion; A. White, Sumter, ( and W. J. Gooding, Hampton. All t of these gentlemen take a special per- { sonal interest in the institution, and j watch up every detail as carefully as if j their charge was a private enterprise. , Dr. J. W. Babcock, the newly ap- j ?Qnnntntitonrlont,. who took jJUlIilCU ou|;viiww. , charge on Thursday, 6th instant, is a ] young man of perhaps thirty-five. He, j ] however, has had considerable expe- . rience in the duties that he has assum- i cd, and besides being thoroughly capable, is earnest, conscientious, and fully realizes the grave responsibilities of his position. Every one, whose opinion is worth considering, is fully agreed that the governor has made a wise choice in the selection of Dr. Babcock, and so far as the regents are concerned, the doctor has 'captured them completely. As to the other officers, it is sufficient to say that from first to last they have been selected more on account of their, respective personal qualifications, than from any other consideration. w. 1). g. DISTINGUISHED CAROLINIANS. Kx-Govcrnor Lubbock and his Wife on a Visit to Their Xative State. Correspondence of the Yorkviile Enquirer. Blacksburg, August 19.?Ex-Governor Lubbock, of Texas, is, with his wife, visiting relatives of Mrs. Lubbock's at this place. Mrs. Lubbock is a daughter of the late Hon. James A. j Black, who represented this district in | congress before the war. She was probably better known in this State as j the wife of the Rev. Dr. Porter, of Coi lumbia, for many years editor of The i Southern Presbyterian. After Dr. Por' ter's death, Mrs. Porter continued to live in Texas, where she occupied a high position as a teacher, until she married the honored gentleman whose name she now bears, i Ex-Governor Lubbock, also a native ; of South Carolinu, went to Texas from i Beaufort, when quite young, and when j Texas was only a colony under Mexii can rulers. This was a year or two be! fore the uprising of the colonists and | the bloody tragedy of the Almo, so graphic an account of which wasgiven i in The Enquirer of June 3. He first engaged in merchandising in ' Texas, but his fitness and fondness for ! a more active life soon brought him i into public notice, and he was appointed by Governor Houston comptroller 1 of the State. He was then elected by : the people to fill the same position and 1 ; was afterward chosen as lieutenant ; governor and then elector at large for ' i President Buchanan. He was a delegate I to the Charleston convention in 1860, 1 and in 1801 he was elected governor. > He held this position for one term, and j declining re-election, entered the Con | federate army as a lieutenant-colonel. > In 1864 he was appointed by President f j Davis aid-de-camp, with the rank of B colonel of cavalry, which position he t i held until he was captured with Mr. 1 i Davis. He was confined in Fortress t Delaware until Christmas, 1865. He > | then returned to Texas, and was soon ? after appointed collector of Galveston f , Since the war, though not so active l> in politics as before, he has held impor taut positions, having served as State d treasurer for six successive terms, and exerting all the time an important in r> fluencc in the government of his adopt ed State. j He is much pleased with our sectioi ; and its natural resources, and is espe > j cially charmed with the fine wate that abounds. Having finally retirei -c ! from public life, his visit here is on >e j strictly for pleasure and recreation M To have led so active a life, and t l?- I have passed through so many excitin ' and eventful epochs in the country1 l'- ! history, Governor Lubbock is a remark u* i ably well-preserved man in every r< ? His r\ i> is usbriirht. his form i - j "I""* . 1,1 as erect, and his carriage is asgraeefi V* and vigorous as a man of 50. And h' is really delightful to hear him talk < s* Texas and her past history, her woi ?* t derful resources and grand prospect w. A. Snakks Auk Not Snakks.?Tl I cause of persons whose nerves are e: j" eited hy protracted and excessive use < (j stimulants seeing the shapes of anima I 1 passing before them is not due whol to the imagination, says a writer - i the New York Times. In fact tl j fancy only operates to induce a heli that what is seen is alive and hideon . The eyeball is covered by a network ^ veins, ordinarily so small that they < " ! no intrude themselves visibly in tl >,N path of the light that enters the sigl lis- 1 , i. 1but in the course1 ot some discus these veins are frequently congest* i and swollen to such size as to bceoi: lie ! visible, and when this happens the < e.. feet generally is to appear as if the ed were an object of considerable size it j distance from the eye. iv- Of course this vein is generally lot in. thiii. and sinuous like a serpent, a: llie the figure seen is frequently startling i of like a snake. That they seem to li ion is due to the fact that they are oft in- not in perfect line with the direct fro of of sight. They are either to the si< i of up or down from the locus: thereto led when discovered, the victim natura ;ar- ' turns his eyes toward the effect, a cet- I the effect, of course, moves awi po- The eye follows, and thus a contimu 500 and realistic motion is got. Now. ms. the eye be returned to the front ag: ds: | quickly it will see another sua ifflicted by malarial disease, aim :r his eyes are thus congested many inge shapes and clouds pass within vision, which, if he were in a state nervous collapse, might easily be that are seen by those suffering n delirium tremens. iVhy People Faint.?Fainting, rerked a leading physician, only rets when the heart fails to send to i brain a sufficient supply of blood, inting is either partial or complete, 1 in either case there may be a rning of what is coming, and in cases has been known for some persons sn to have assumed favorable postis before losing consciousness. The familiar symptoms are the turnr pale of the face, the eyes close, osciousness is lost, and the person Is. Then the heart foils to send >od to the brain; it also foils to send to the surface of the body, and hence e skin is pallid, cold, and often clamy. Both the breathing and the pulse ay be imperceptible, and the person uy seem iu uc rctuij urm, . 0 metimes is * a* serious affair, -and -r< metimes ends in death. . In most cases, however, there is an herited nervous susceptibility. In ly case of faintness every obstacle the freest action of the heart and ngs should be removed by the looseng of the clothing. But the first ling is to get the patient into a re* unbent posture and flat on the back. ' the person is in a crowded assembly e should at once be taken into fresh r, but under no circumstances should aything be placed under the head. he more common form of fainting oes not, as has been erroneously , :ated, necessarily tend to shorten life. ^ > The Coloe of Gold.?"Most people uppose," says an assayer, "that all old is alike when refined, but this is ot the case. An experienced man an tell at a glance from what part of * he world a gold piece comes, and in ome cases from what part of a particilar gold district the metal was obained. The Australian gold, for in* tance, is .distinctly redder than the ?alifornian, and this difference in color 3 always perceptible, even when the ;olcl is 1,UUU nne. a^uiu, tuo >btnincd from the placers is yellower han that which is taken directly from juartz. Why this should be the case s one of the mysteries of metallurgy, or the placer gold all comes from the /eins. The Ural gold is the reddest found anywhere. "Few people know the real color of gold, as it is seldom seen unless heavily alloyed, wbich renders it redder than when pure. The purest coins ever made were the fifty-dollar pieces that used to be common in California. Their coinage Was abandoned for two , reasons?first, because the loss by abrasion was so great, and secondly, because the interior could be bored out aud lead substituted, the difference in height being too small to be readily noticed in so large a piece. These octagonal coins were the most valuable ever struck." What Pekkeb's Paper Says.? The Kansas Farmer, of which Senator PefTer is editor, in a full columu editorial, written for the purpose of showing that the chief aim of the Southern Alliance is to divide the Democratic party and deliver the fragments to its enemies, closes with this significant paragraph: "If the Alliance should fail in every'* * '? Knl ahnuld SUC tiling CISC It JllUjiuovia, ?uv ceed in breaking up the "Solid South" by absorbing a majority of the Democratic votes of that section, it will deserve the lasting gratitude of the whole nation. It will have accomplished what the managers of the Republican party have spent years of . time and several million of dollars in. vain to do, and by so doing demonstrate its greater potency as a political diplomat." S6T" A suit brought by one Italian woman against another to recover possession of her child, was tried in New^ ark, N. J., last week, in which evident to show that the sale of babies is a common thing in the Italian colony iu that city, was brought out. The market price for a boy is #20, and for a girl $10. In this case the price paid was $16. The woman who purchased the child said that having no children of her own and wanting one, she had bought this babe from its mother. The testimony proved clearly that the mother wished to get her child back, not because she wanted it, but that she might sell it again. The bargain which was made before the child was bom, is one of the marks of the degradation to which many emigrants from Italy j have descended. I Kilkenny Cats.?During the rebelI lion which occurred in Ireland in 1798, j or it may be in 1803, Kilkenny was garJ risoned by a troop of Hessian soldiers, who amused themselves in barracks by I tying two cats together by their tails "' and throwing them across a clothes line to fight. The officers hearing of j this cruel practice, resolved to stop it. i As he entered the room one of the ! troopers, seizing a sword, cut the tails i in two as the animals hung across the . line. The two cats escaped, minus ! their tails, through the open window, - and when the officer iuquired the ; meaning of the two bleeding tails being left in the room, he was coolly told that two cats had been fighting, and -' had devoured each other all but the tails.?Notes and Queries. B&T Of the one hundred and thirtyr six students who were graduated from I the four colleges in Maine this year, e only one has chosen farming for an oci. cupation?about the usual proportion d in such cases?while thirty-three are to g take up teaching. Other occupations s find an order of preference between :- these two?five choosing journalism ; >- seven, commercial pursuits; twelve, is engineering; thirteen, the ministry; II eighteen, medicine : and nineteen, the it ; law; while the remainder are undeif i cided. s. i fittT'Turn that wrapping paper the : other side out," said a lady to the clerk ! 1 "i" UI don't want to | 111 U Ill J -JiUimn iiiuiv. . - ii' lie a walking advertisement for your x- establishment." Thtf clerk was astonof ished and looked at her inquiringly for Is an explanation. Then she added : 4,I lv j read the newspapers as all intelligent in people do.and think they are the proper ie place in which to advertise your busicf ! ness. instead of making your customis. ers carry your sign around with each of purchase."' lo ?- -? lie It is the little things of life that it. tax one's nerves the most, as a stalwart es j youth of Kansas found when he aei'd | eepted a wager that he could not stand ne | a quart of water dropped into his open T- hand drop by drop from a height of re three feet. Before live hundred drops a had fallen into his hand he had almost j cried with pain, and said he had ig. | enough. After a little water had fallnd : en. each drop seemed to crush his hand, fly ' and a blister in the centre of it was ve ; the result. en 1 >nt ! sKgr A ruralist came into Tallahassc, le. j Kla.. and finding a newsstand, ordered re. i a lot of papers,whichjictook from the My ; clerk with profuse thanks. He was nd j astonished, though, when theclerk askiv. ed payment, as he "never heard of >ns j charging for newspapers before." He if had been reading liis neighbors' papers tin for nothing, and never knew that they ke, cost money.