Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. | An independent Jamili,) Iteiuspaper: Ar the promotion of the political, Social, 'Agricultural and Commercial Jntatsts of the ?outh. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IX advaxce. VOL. 39. YOBKVILLE, S. C? WEDNESDAY, FEI3RUAEY 15, 1893. NO. T. ,NOOGA.! L, (LATE U. S. A.) ericnn Press Association. "And do you expect me to let this i spy go?" "No. Protect yourself?the cause. Send after him. It is I who have con- | nived at his escape, not you. You must ' CHATTi ' - ??M BY F. A. MITCHE Copyright, lNJE, by Am I CHAPTER XX. FLIGHT. If was nine o'clock in the evening. Major Taliaferro and his guests were sitting in his office room chatting. A clatter of horses' hoofs was heard at the * front of the house and some one dis- j mounted. In another moment there was a tramp of cavalry boots in the hall; all turned to the open door?and there stood : Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh. For a moment he regarded Mark and j Laura sternly; then advancing a few ' steps he lowed low to Laura. "Captain," said the major rising, "I suppose it is useless to deny to this lady and gentleman that I deemed it my duty to make sure of their identity before allowing them to pass. The family to which they claim to belong is known to j you; therefore I sent to you for information. I see you have answered my in- i quiry in person. If you vouch for them j I shall be happy to pass them in the morning, and shall apologize for their detention at the same time?my excuse being the cause we serve." . All eyes were fixed on Fitz Hugh, Mark's and Laura's with ill concealed anxiety. "This was Miss Fain," said Fitz Hugh, j "She would not be traveling as any I man's wife unless she were married to j him. If you detain them, you must do so on your own responsibility." Both Mark and Laura drew a sigh of relief. "I have no desire to detain them," J said Taliaferro, "after what you have said, but it is altogether too late for , them to proceed tonight. The only ! amends I can make for discommoding j them is to make them comfortable. Mrs. Green, your room is ready for you." *// you had not been my rival I would 1 love you as a brother." The pain that would otherwise have ; -* attended this scene was aiieviarea in Laura's heart by the delight she felt at ! a prospect ?f safety for her husband, j She gave her former affianced a look of gratitude. Then she glanced at Mark for instructions. Seeing no hint in his ; eyes she passed out of the room and went I up stairs. "Captain," said Mark, "may I beg a cigar? I usually smoke at this time of night." . ? "Here are cigars, gentleman," said Taliaferro, producing a box. "If you smoke, captain," added Mark, ! "I shall be pleased with your company." "With pleasure." All lighted cigars, and Mark and Fitz Hugh strolled out on the veranda. "Captain," said Mark as soon as they j were outside, "I have never met a man < whom I have 60 admired, so honored, as you, and yet I have robbed you of your .love. This last act of kindness to her and to me, so well indicating your mag- ! nanimity, is more than I can bear. I cannot accept anything more, even for her sake. I cannot stay here to be , shielded by you and behind her skirts. I am about to leave this veranda and fly to the Union lines. Thank God, I have met one who is the soul of honor, in j *. whose charge I leave my wife. Consider j hprnmler vour care. She will doubtless need all you can give her, for I never j expect to see her again. I shall doubt- ' less be captured before tomorrow noon, j If yen were not my enemy, if you had not been my rival, I would love you as j a brother." Without waiting for a reply Mark left j the veranda, and in another moment [ was lost in the darkness. ,. Captain Fitz Hugh stoo l a* one petrified. So many conflicting <. .notions were within him that nothing seemed real. For a time he was in a sort of stupor. ! When he emerged from it the first thing that took definite shape in his mind was ; a deliberation as to what he should do. i Should he go in and confess all to the I major? Should he keep the secretLaura's secret? He leaned against a pillar of the veranda and passed his hand over his brow. He could not stab Laura; he could not even betray the man who had left her in his care. He did nothing. Half an hour had elapsed when Taliaferro, who had been busying himself with some papers, began to wonder what had become of the two men. He got up and went out on the veranda. "Where's Green?" he asked quickly. "Gone." "Gone?" ^ "Yes, gone half an hour ago." "What does this mean, Cameron?" "It means that I have been keeping > from you what I can keep no longer or Mil I would. This man Green is a Federal V spy." ~ Taliaferro threw up his hands in hor- , ror. "And you have been protecting him!"' "Yes." "Cameron?my friend?great Godare you a traitor? There is something back?tell me, quick." "Twice before he has crossed my path, j He was taken and tried at Chattanooga. I was detailed to defend him. I had never seen him before. He was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged, but escaped. "When I met him again it was at the Fains' house. Laura Fain, the wo*ian up stairs, then my betrothed, but now? his wife, was concealing him." "Well?" "I saw that she was infatuated with him. She claimed him for her guest. I" "Well, go on." "I could not honorably inform on him." "Oh, Cameron?what absurdity? what idiocy?what" "This afternoon you sent for me. 1 came. 1 saw ine man 1 nau seen twice before?with my?with the loveliest, the noblest of all women?his wife." The major only stared at his friend; he hfid no words to express his feelings, his sympathy. "When we came out here he told me that he would accept nothing further for himself at my hands; that he would not shield himself behind a woman's skirts. He walked away before me." "And you?" "I permitted him." Taliaferro shuddered. He knew that his friend by his act had placed himself in a terrible position. "Cameron," he said, "do you know yon are liable to be shot for this?' "I do." I always told you," the major went on anxiously, impatiently, "that your notions of honor were absurd, quixotic." "The highest sense of honor is never quixotic. It is best fitted for a Christian, a soldier and a gentleman." not suffer." "The cause alone is enough." "Orderly," he called to a man stand- i ing by the gate. The soldier approached and stood at attention. "Go tell Captain Heath that the man w ho was here this evening has gone, and ' I want him followed and brought back. Tell him to send by all the roads." The man saluted and went away. "Cameron," said the major, after giving the order, "God grant that this act | of yours may not be known. It will not ! be, for I am the only one who knows of it, and it will never pass my lips." "I am responsible for my act, and if \ it becomes known I trust I shall have j courage to meet the consequences like a man." "And now, Wallace," he continued, "I am going. The young wife who was left in my charge I leave in yours. I ! would gladly protect her myself, but I prefer to spare her the pain of being under my protection. If her husband is | taken and she needs me, send for me." "Cameron, you are leading me to hope that he will not be taken." Fitz Hugh went to the gate near by, where his horse was standing, and j mounting rode away. . As soon as he had gone Taliaferro i called a negro woman, and told her to , go to the lady's room and ask her (if she had not gone to bed) to come to him, as he had a communication to make. Laura had no thought of taking off her clothes. She was waiting for what might happen. When she received the major's message she went down to him j with a heart beating wildly. "Madam," said the major deferential ly, "your nusDanu uas gone. "Where?" asked Laura, with a blanch- j ed cheek. "He walked away in the presence of Captain Fitz Hugh, who would not de- j tain him or inform me that he had gone till he was obliged to do so." Laura clasped her hands and mutely breathed a blessing on the man who had | spared her husband for her sake. "How long has he been gone?" she asked. "More than half an hour." "Have you ordered his pursuit?" "I have." "And he has a start of" j "Thirty minutes." "You'll never take him. He bears a j charmed life." "And now, madam, what can I do for you? My friend charged me to see that j you have every attention." "I will go on and join my mother." "Tonight?" "Tonight?now." "Your phaeton shall be at the door in a few minutes. You must accept my escort. There will be a guard besides." "It is not necessary for you to go." "I shall not permit you to go without me." "Orderly! Hey, orderly! The lady's | phaeton at once. And send for a cor- j poral and six men." In ten minutes Laura, Major Taliaferro seated beside her, six stalwart cavalry men in gray about her, was on her way to join her mother. CHAPTER XXI. THE BALL IS OPENED. I "General, vcrmlt me to introduce my i wife." Mark knew the direction of the roads ' leading from Anderson, and believed that he could avoid the pickets. Making his way over a space covered with bushes and a low growth of timber, he struck the road by which he had come that day at a point beyond the vedette. Then half a mile's run brought him, out of breath, to a house. The occupants were not asleep, and Mark succeeded by persuasion and threats in getting a horse to take him to Slack's, promising to send ; it back the next day with liberal pay for its use. He arrived at Slack's shortly before midnight, and his horse fell exhausted in the yard. Slack received Itiin with a shotgun pointed through the crack of the door. Mark made himself known and asked for his uniform and his arms. 'The old man got them for him, and taking them to the stable Mark put them on. Then he went to the stall where his horse stood. The mare knew her master when he threw his arms about her neck Neither spoke. Neither wished to do aught but leave tears?tears of an extjuisite happiness?to flow on silently. For a time Laura saw in Mark's face only a reflection of her own happiness. He was feasting his eyes upon her, passing his fingers through her dark hair or smoothing it back with his hand, while he covered her face with kisses. Suddenly a thought seemed to come uetween uer auu mm. "What is it darling:"' she asked anxiously. "I was thinking"? said Mark. "But no; I will not think of that." "Tell me." "I was wondering?Laura, did you love him?" Laura cast down her eyes. "Love? Was it love?" She asked the question of herself. "It was a summer breeze, while this" "This?" "Is a tempest." Drawing her to him, before imprinting a kiss Mark added to her simile: "A 'wild west wind.'" "You are thinking of your Shelley," she said. "I shall love him too, now, i since it was he who betrayed you to me." "And I shall love him the more because he betrayed me?and made me"'? He did not finish. He was thinking of the morning in the garret when in hor imuerions wav she had claimed that i saving Ins life had made her its owner. | She remembered it, too, and smiling finished for him: "And made you my slave. But who made me 'your lyre even us the forest is' to the west wind?*' Her caresses prevented a reply for a time. "When there was a pause Mark exclaimed wonderingly: "Oh, woman, why must you so often deny to the worthy that which you may give in such abundance to one whose j only recommendation is an ability to j catch your fancy?" Again there came into his face the expression of a thought which seemed for the moment to carry hhu away from her. "What is it now?" she queried anxI ioijsly. Mark smiled. "You will laugh at me I when I tell you." "Then you must be laughed at." "I was wondering if, when I get back to headquarters, the general will want me to go right away on another mission." Her arms were about him. She drew a little away and fixed her black eyes upon him. They shone like those of shme savage but beautiful animal about to be bereft of her young. "If you go again," she said fiercely, "into the presence of such a death I will go with you." Mark made no reply, except to throw his arms about her neck and draw her to him again. Her fierceness was with ; him her chief charm. Then he made an . effort to rise. ] "Stay where you are," she said in the ! enino ittmprinus tone in which she had i < given the order once before when he j i threatened to leave the garret; "you shall lie there till you promise that you will be a spy no more." "Let me up," cried Mark, smiling at ; J her earnestness. "Lie still!" ; "Come, sweetheart," he said plead- ! i inglv, "let me get up, and I'll say with Hotspur to his Kate, 'When I'm on i horseback I'll swear I love thee infinitely.'" Mark was on his back, his arms pinioned. He was powerless. He was sur- ' prised at Laura's strength. "Promise." "Never I" "Promise." "Why so? I know I shall bo dying to go again in a week." "Then you shall lie there till the war-! i is over." "But I thought you told me once that ' if you were a man you would be all I ! have been." "So I would. And you, being a man, j i might continue to be so were you the j ; husband of any other woman; but mine, never!" 1 Mark looked into her eyes and knew that liis career in the secret service had 1 ended. The savage opposition he saw : there to his ever again risking such a death as he had but a few days before j barely escaped was too strong for him. ' Where was his adroitness, his ingenu- ] ity, his readiness in peculiar situations? ' ] Vanished under the gaze of his young wife. At last he was subdued by a girl. ! i The arrival of Laura the night before : at the farmhouse where her mother had j stopped, and awaited her coming anx- i iously, their resumption of their jour- I . ney the next day, during which Laura ; ! confessed all to her mother, their safe 1 arrival within the Union lines, the find- ; ing Mark at headquarters, may be passed j over in a few short phrases. Mark's meeting with his mother-in- ; law was, to say the least, embarrassing, j Mrs. Fain received him with the same dignity that had characterized her throughout, but without her former cordiality. As yet she knew nothing about 1 his connections, and she disdained to i ask. But Mark had satisfied Laura, and : the information she transmitted to her j mother was in a measure mollifying. That afternoon the party that had ridden into Anderson the day before rode i out of Altamont in the direction of Mc- ' Minnville. To all outward appearance the situation was the same, but really how different! Yesterday Mark was in j imminent danger, while Laura was in a j state of terror. Then they rode with scarcely a word. Now language was i inadequate to convey all they wished to i express. In the evening the party drew up before General Thomas' tent at McMinn- ( ville. Mark went inside. "General," he said, "you received my telegram?" "I did." "Had you not received the informa- ; tion before?" "If we had, why should we be here?" There was a brief pause. "I have brought something besides inand seemed as glad to see him as he was to see her. "Ah, Madge, my darling! Once on your back, old girl, and the devil may catch me if he can." He lost no time in putting the bit in her mouth and strapping on the saddle. Then, putting his foot in the leather covered stirrup, he lifted himself into his seat. For the first moment in ten days Mark rn. at . oo It?11 lilt; UUII1IUI t UL UCIU^ 111 VIlt7 ouuuiv ; with his arms about him. A few steps took him out of the barn; then, turning his horse's head in the di- 1 rection from which ho had approached j the place with Souri, he rode away among the trees. Before going a hundred yards lie stopped and listened. Some sound had caught his ear. It was the gallop of horsemen. He waited, dreading a neigh from his own horse, which he patted to hold her attention. The horsemen passed on down the road. "Ride on, lirnve boys," said Mark; "if you're after me, the faster you go in | that direction the better I'll like it." In the light of the waning moon he ' trampled over the shadows of leaves as 011 a "crazy quilt." He crossed the Se- | quatchie by the ford over which Souri had guided him, and took care not to head too far down the stream, as he had done before. Then he crossed the creek near the fallen log. He struck the road by which he had left Jasper just south Df the fork at which Souri had halted . him. Without hesitating a moment he i struck out at a brisk canter over the left j of the two roads?the one leading to 1 Tracy City. Mark had never experienced such sensations as now. On his own fleet horse, his carbine slung on his shoulder, his pistol at his side, on the road to the Union camps, a wife whom he adored to join him in case he should arrive j safely?why should not the spirit within him fairly glow with hope? And never had the beautiful Madge j borne her rider with such evident ex- j hilaration. Mark's feelings seemed to be infused into her as she sped on, her ! iron shoes dashing sparks from the ! stones, far brighter than the light of j the waning moon glistening on the bar- ; rel of his carbine. He reached Tracy at sunrise. He did not dare to go through the place, so he j skirted it, and once above it rode along the mountain plateau over a road lead- j ing directly north. He was now familiar j with the country. Arriving at a place j called Johnston's, he struck off to the | right to Purdons, where two roads join, j leading from there to Altamont. Mark struck the main stem a fewlmn- | dreds yards from the junction. As he rode up a slight rise on to the road, he cast his eye to the right. There, standing at the fork, was a Confederate cav- | airy vedette. He saw Mark as toon as Mark saw j him. Shouting to the rest of the picket ; post, he dashed forward. "Now for it, Madge!" The animal knew by his tone that i there was work to be done, and although she had been out since midnight she j began the race with vigor. On sped the Union soldier, followed at "a few hundred yards' distance by the Confederate, and half a mile behind by several others ! of the picket post. Mark was within j range, but his pursuers did not care to : draw rein in order to tire, doubtless fear- i ing that if they should fail to bring him i down by the bullet he would escape, j Madge did nobly, and had she not J I been riding tip a mountain side for three j or four hours would have easily dis- I tanced her pursuers. As it was, the man I 1 who followed first was gaining rapidly. I Mark knew that ho must either dispose 1 j of this fellow or lie taken. Coming to a ! slight bend in the road, he rode a liun- | dred yards beyond to a place where his j pursuer must suddenly appear around : the trees. Reining in his horse, he faced i j about and stood still with his carbine at ' an aim. As soon as the man appeared ' I Mark tired. ' The Confederate fell from his saddle, and his horse made off into the woods. Mark turned and was soon again flying forward. He judged that lie could not be very far from the Union pickets between him and Altamont. Looking ahead he saw a horseman standing in the road. Whether he was Union or Confederate he did not know, but there 1 was no way to escape the remainder of his pursuers except by keeping right on and trusting to meeting a friend. As he rode on he noticed that the horseman i woro a forage cap. This looked well, for tlie Confederates nearly always woro hats. Then he could see that the man's body had a dark hue. It must be blue. At last he came near enough to discern >*ellow facings. There was a whistling of bullets by liis ears; he turned his head and saw that his pursuers had halted. They had evidently seen the Union picket and fired a farewell volley at the fugitive. Private Mark Malone was within the Union lines; his mission was ended. Mark was taken to the officer in com- ' mand at Altamont. On the way from the picket line he was informed that the place was occupied by McCook's division. When he reached headquarters he made hiniself and his mission known, and in a few minutes a cipher telegram was on its way to General' Thomas at McMinnville: Bragg at Dunlap yesterday with no force j except a few cavalry. Cheatham and Withers marching north. The main nrmy gono by rail from Chattanooga on the twenty-eighth to Knoxvilie. Private Mark Malone. Ten minutes later the spy was sound j asleep on a camp cot in a tent belonging to one of the staff. Mark had had 110 sleep for twentyeight hours, and for much of that time j he believed that he would be retaken i and hanged. Now he slept a deep sleep. : Hour after hour went by, and though 1 bugles called and drums rattled he slumbered on. He dreamed that he was at Chattanooga. He was standing on the scaffold. Soldiers surrounded him. The noose was adjusted about his neck. He heard the sound of the ax as it cut the rope. He awoke with a cry. Laura Fain?no, Laura Maynard?his ; wife?was standing beside him. She sank down by the cot, and in a ; moment they were in each other's arms. ; formation, general. May 1 introduce a party waiting outside?'' "Certainly." Mark went out and brought in Laura ] ind her mother. "General, permit me to introduce my j wife.'' The general looked at the blushing ! Laura, then at her mother, then at i Mark, in undisguised astonishment. "I thought you had been on a scout," I he said. "I have." "And courted and wed at the same I time?" "Yes, general." "Be seated, ladies. Now explain all this." Mark gave an outline of his adventures, his listener's eyes opening wider as he proceeded. When the recital was finished the general called out: "Orderly!" In a twinkling a man was standing in the tent waiting an order. "Send for Chaplain Gadsden." "Yes, sir." "I am a trifle uncertain about that wedding," remarked the general. "I think we'd better have it done according to the regulations." All smiled save Mrs. Fain, who, since Bhehad been informed of all that had occurred from the time of Mr. Slack's arrival at her house to Laura's joining her the night before, maintained a rigid and dignified silence. \V hile they were waiting for the chapIain the general wrote a telegram to Mr. Fain, at Nashville, announcing the arrival of his wife and daughter. He did not mention the son-in-law. The chaplain came, and the bride and groom were wed again?this time with ample witnesses, for the whole staff had been ordered to "report in person at headquarters to witness marriage ceremony." The general gave the bride away, and after the benediction, offering his arm to Mrs. Fain, led the way to another tent where a collation of foraged viauds?foraged unbeknown to the general, and consisting principally of cold chicken ?was served. Unfortunately there was not a glass of wine in camp for the ladies, the only spirits being "commissary" whisky and the "Robinson County" of the country. While the party were refreshing themselves, word was received from Nashville that Mr. Fain was out of danger and impatiently awaiting his wife and daughter. After communicating this pleasant bit of information, the general, turning to Mark, said: "I shall need you hereafter on my staff. I have learned from your colonel that there is a vacant lieutenancy for )*ou in your regiment, and I will issue an order detailing you for duty with me. But this rank need be only temporary. The army is about to be divided into army corps, and my troops will con stitute one of them. Under the recent law fixing the staff of corps commanders I shall nominate you for inspector general, with rank of lieutenant colonel, to he appointed by the president." For the first time since she had been apprised of the fact that her daughter was a wife Mrs. Fain looked happy. "General," said Mark, "while I appreciate the honor you so kindly bestow upon me, I would prefer, were it not for my wife, to remain in the secret service. She certainly deserves the distinction you offer, and I accept it for her. I rejoice at the prospect of being near you, and shall not be averse now, since I have so much to live for, to a service not connected with a constant reminder of hemp rope." At this juncture an aid-de-camp entered and handed the general a telegram. He cast his eye over it and said: "The ball is opened. Nelson is fighting the advance of Bragg's army at liichmond, Kentucky." THE END. A Lihki. on the Hex.?When the question of women sticking to their husbands through thick and thin is discussed, there are always men handy who tell the time-worn tale of running amuck, a family fight, of abetting the wife who was being kicked by the husband, of attacking said husband for his beastliness and of being abused by the wife for the same. As oue woman, I am sick of this lie. There may have been some such eases once upon a time, as, for instance, the other day when a brute was arrested lor craeKing ms wife's skull, and when in court next day his line was paid by his wife, who swore he had always been kind to her. But these cases are rare?so rare that perhaps it is just as well to cook, eat and digest one thoroughly when you come across it, but in doing so, for the love of womankind don't get indigestion and continually refer to what you have eaten as a natural consequence. It is not so. A woman hates a brute (this rule does not apply to little dogs.) If she marries a brute, she pays her penalty through pride?perhaps by sticking to him and not letting the world know of her had taste. A startling instance of this brutality is the case of Wilhemia Knapte, who is pleading with judge and jury to give her a separation from 5Ir. Knapte, who kicks, slaps and punches her, and by way of variety cuts her hair off, blacks her eyes and sets his doj; on her. The jury will no doubt decide in favor of the woman, and Mr. Jvnapte will have tolind other entertainment than that which his wife affords him. ? - HflF John Hepkins t'niversity owns a thermometer worth $10,0()<). IT IS MIT PROHIBITION. Chairman L.D.Childs on the Dispensary Law. tiil' ctitp cimri.I) NIIT SKI,li lilonil!. Ill U 17 1 .1 1 U Prohibitionist* arc Advised to Accept Nothing that is in lite Nature of a Compromise. To lip; State Prohibition Executive Committee: By the action of your committee at its meeting in December last, I was requested to have the draft of the prohibition bill, which had been adopted by the committee, brought before the legislature then in session, and to give my personal attention to its presentation to that body. That duty I endeavored to discharge to the best of my ability, giving my almost continuous attendance on the sessions of the house and senate and the committees, until the matter was disposed of by the adoption of what is known as the Evans dispensary law. Since then I have purjKisely avoided giving any public expression of opinion on the subject; first, because any attempt to forecast any results to ilow from the law would be to a large extent speculative, and, also, because I feared that any adverse criticism which might escape me might be viewed in the light of factious opposition to the experiment, and calculated to hinder the good which its advocates, some of them earnest and conscientious prohibitionists, believed would come out of it, if it could be fairly tried. It seems to ine proper, however, that I should express to you, as members of the committee, my convictions on the subject, formed after the excitement attending the campaign and the anxiety of watching and counseling the movement during its progress in the legislature have passed, and I have had the time and opportunity to consider the situation. In considering the action of the leg islature on the subject of prohibition, it should be borne in mind that the question presented to the voters of the State by the prohibitionists at the primary election was a very distinct one, in this respect at least, namely?whether the legal sanction of the sale of liquors as a beverage should be withdrawn and such sale prohibited by the State. This being the fact, the majority vote cast at that time can be understood in bo other sense .than as the expression of a demand that the traffic in intoxicants as a beverage should bo prohibited. To carry out this purpose your executive committee prepared a bill which was introduced in the house by Mr. Roper, of Marlboro. After a most determined opposition by the liquor interest, and the quasi (political) prohibitionists, the bill was reported favorably by the large special .committee composed of one member from each county, with only six dissenting votes, and after a protracted debate of more than a week, in which the opposition was allowed to exhaust their arguments almost without interruption from the friends of the measure, it passed the house by an unprecedented majority. Up to this point it is clear that the large majority of the representatives believed that their constituents wanted the kind of prohibition which was expressed in the Roper bill. This was legislation which would prohibit, and it was the fact which in my judgment scaled its fate with the legislature. The combined elements of opposition to real prohibition ultimately proved succesful in the substitution of the Evans bill in the senate. Its subsequent passage by the house was the result of a conviction on the minds of many sincere and conscientious members, who had supported the Roper bill as the proper measure, that it would be impossible to secure the passage of that bill against the determined opposition of the senate, and that it would therefore be better to accept the dispensary law, which had so many feature's in common with the Roper - ' ' -1 # I,.. 1)111, I mill 10 11 live no legislation vu mi. subject at the present session. The fact, however, remains that the people asked for prohibition of the liquor traflie, and their representatives have seen tit to give them, instead, a law which takes the dispensing of intoxicants as a beverage out of the hands of the citizen, and places it directly and entirely under the control of the State. Such is the law which the prohibitionists of the State are called onto consider in order to determine their future attitude and action respecting it. Are we, as prohibitionists, discharging ourselves from all responsibility for a law which was clearly a perversion of our purpose as expressed in the bill which we submitted, patiently to await the results of the law in the hands of those who have taken the responsibility of foisting it upon an unwilling people ? Or shall we oppose it as we would any measure which we believed fraught with evil to society, by making common cause with all classes of our citizens who in any lawful way seek to render it inoperative? Or, shall we stand ready to aid in extracting whatever of good may he I found possible from its operation ? In considering those questions let us remember that while the act does not only profess "to regulate," it is claim| ed that a postivc good is secured by j it for which prohibitionists have been : long working, namely, the closing of the saloon and its congener, the club room; with its barroom appendage; that under the provisions of this act it is really in the power of the majority who voted for prohibition to say to what extent this dispensary system shall prevail ; and that the general effect of the act will he a considerable step toward ultimate prohibition. On the other hand, let us not forget that our prohibition movement derives whatever of force it possesses from tho moral principle that the manufacture and sale of intoxicants for beverage purposes, in view of the evils which How therefrom, is wrong in the sight of God and fearfully demoralizing to man, and therefore any law j ey as it is?shall t;o to enrich the rev1 nues of the State and counties. It seems to me, therefore, that the j duty of all true prohibitionists will be. ' first to use their influence to prevent | the establishment of dispensaries by refusing themselves, and inducing otli- I ers to refuse, to sign the petitions which are necessary to their establishment j under section <S of the act. The re- j suit of this course, if successful, will be to give us real prohibition ; no dispensary?no legal sale of intoxicants. If the dispensary part of the Kvans experiment fails to go into operation it i will be because, the people who are to ' ask for it do not choose to do so, and | this was certainly contemplated by the authors of the scheme when they provided that the dispenser could only be appointed on a petition signed by a majority of the freehold voters of the incorporated town or city in which j the permit is to he issued. Now, if these voters are not to exer- ! cise their choice in this matter, why j this provision, and in the face of it, where the occasion for Governor Tillman's recently published reflections on j them for so doing, and his threat im- j plied in the remark that the prohibi- ; tionists will regret their refusal to establish these disnensaries? j The "step toward prohibition," ; which the prohibitionists can see in , the dispensary law, is the possible | power which it gives them to prohibit ' the dispensary, which they can do, if in snflirient numbers they refrain from J j asking for it. Prohibition can only come out of the i dispensary. It will then he prohibi- j tion, indeed in the fullest sense, and | that it is what every true prohibition- ; > ist has been working and praying for. The threatened alliance between j the whisky men and the other politij cal opponents, who are bitterly opposed to the law, and the prohibitionists who are in favor of it, spoken of by Governor Tillman, can have 110 ap- j plication to the class of prohibitionists j represented by our committee. Can it be that Governor Tillman | does not credit the prohibitionists, who i differ from him 011 this point, with acting upon principle, and that lie cannot realize that they are bound to repudiate the dispensary for the same reason that they would the sale of liquors as a beverage under any other plan, be- j cause such sale is morally wrong? The truth is, however, that the dispensary experiment has features in i it which, naturally enough, arouse the antagonism of so many distinct classes of citizens, that it need not surprise Governor Tillman, or anyone else, if , it fails to run smoothly. The whisky men oppose it because it breaks up i their business; many sincere patriots ! are horrified at the spectacle of the State becoming a successor to the business from which it has ! driven these citizens; many astute lawyers and others find in these pro visions a most dangerous exercise of the powers of the State and invasion I - r It_ : A ~ tUn t/x U1 IIIU lU'lVillC lJ^IIL U1 INC CIUNCLI IV I engage in any business not declared to be wrong ; while the prohibitionist who j voted to have the sale of intoxicants as a beverage prohibited, arc justly ! indignant at the legislation which so perverted the meaning of their demand as to make it one for unlimited ! whisky for revenue, and themselves unwilling partners in the unholy J traffic. If, in spite of these elements of opposition, the dispensary goes into opI oration, it becomes the duty of prohii bitionists to aid in every proper way | the enforcement of the law against violators, thus making as far us practicable the good features of the law ef: fective. | To do this will require that our or; ganization as a committee, and the effective county organizations which I were so successful in the last campaign, should be maintained and strenglheni cd, having also in view the securing of such legislation in the future as shall eventually rid our State of the curse of the liquor traffic. Some plan for future operations is i very desirable, and I should be glad to have from the members of the committee suggestions as to the methods best suited to eifect our purpose. Respectfully, L. 1). Chii.ds, Chair'n State I'ro. Ex. Com. Columbia, S. ('., Feb. 7, 1893. WHY 1)0'NOT MOKE MEN00 TO CHURCH? To this question, says the Rev. John | Faville, in The Christian Union, the writer, interviewing a hundred men in bis town, received various answers, among which we give the following: Thirty-one men said that absence is the fault of the churches. A number j made this the chief reason. The criticisms of the church attacked the organization, the ministry and the members. They said the church is not social : men find more genuine fellow' ship in the lodge or club or bar-room. The church is too narrow?i. e., too many needless divisions. There were fifty-five men who spoke on the creeds. Twenty-one said the creeds were in the way ; thirty-four said they were not. Twenty-one would advocate changes. Their positions ranged from that of a man who said, "Not one in five hundred believes the creeds," to another, who said, "Some creeds keep some men away." One instance was given of a large number of students converted in a college about twenty years ago, and many desired to join a ' 1 < - ...l:?l .which sanctions or provides lor sucn traffic must of necessity he opposed to prohibition. It makes no difference whether the Stale sanctions the sale by licensing I the citizens to engage therein, or, as in j the case of this law, takes the sale into i its own hands. When the State does j this, it comprises a principle of right, I and prevents the purposes of prohibitive legislation, and both principle and consistency constrain me, as a Prohibitionist, to condemn it. To what extent then do the claims I above stated commend the dispensary ; law to the co-operation or support of | Prohibitionists? It is true that most of the provis\ ions of the dispensary law are taken ; from the Itoper bill without change, : and that thus many of the features of ! the bill framed by your committee have ! now the force of law. But it is also I true of the dispensary law that it i makes the sale of liquor, as a beverage, i by the State, practically without llnii; tation as to use and quantity, in order that the nrofits therefrom?blood mon cerium cuurcn j uic#y diuuicu no uivtu (it was the one our Presbyterian brethren are now revising,) decided they could not accept it, and joined another church. Of the twenty-one who , said the creeds are a barrier, six were I lawyers, three physicians, three ministers, three manufacturers, two teachers, two oflicc-holders, one a druggist, ! and one a farmer. Concerning the minister, most of the men considered him an important fac' tor in this problem. They say they ! went to church to hear what he had to say, rather than the music or ritual. Several thought he should be regarded in business and society as other men, be drawn as a juror, and not go on "half , fare permits" and "ten per cent oil'," in order to best commend himself to men. Too much of the preaching is not "practical." By this was meant dwelling on the supernatural, assuming what the hearer doubts, failing to press most what all believe, taking up the doctrinal rather than the ethical, preaching too much Bihle?i. e., discussing the Israelites or the Bible wor; thies instead of present questions. Ministers fail to reach men, they said, I because they are "too credulous," they do not take the scientific method into their thinking; they emphasize femi! nine rather than masculine virtues. Their social life is defective; they do too much one-sided pastoral work, see too little of the men in other than church relations. Several lawyers said the minister too often does not ! "make his case." He ignores the i "other side." Sixteen of the thirtyone found fault with the unworthy i church member. Very few made i the charge tha the men at church, t and in the church, are no better ! than those outside, for not one of the hundred repudiated the church as useless, or said something better could take its place; but the knowl' edge men have of each other, the unpleasant relations in business or pol'! itics, had a bearing on church attendance. , ! Thk Dki.kjhtfti. Wai.tz.?Brother Burnemall is a scholarly old Presby terian deacon, who lives at the north cml of tlie country. He was in the ' office yesterday and commented as Ibl; lows: j "I saw some young people waltzing i Friday night. The gents encircled | their partner's waists with one arm. The gents stood, erect leaning a little hack. The ladies lean a little forward. (Music.) Now all wheel, whirl, and curl. Feet and heels of gents go rip, rap, tippity-tap. Then all go rippity, elippity, slippitv, bippity, skippity, hoppity, jumpity, ranipity, tlnimpity, bump. Ladies fly oil' by centrifugal momentum. (tents pull ladies hard and close. They reel, swing, slide, sling; look tender, look silly, look dizzy. Feet fly, dresses fly, skirts fly, all fly. It looks squeezingly, tuggity, puttity, rubbity? rip. The men look like a cross between steelyards and limber-jacks. The maidens tuck down their chins very low or raise them very high. Some smile, some trrin. some nout. some giggle, some sneer, ami all perspire freely. The ladies' faces are brought against those of the men, or into their bosoms, breast against breast, nose against nose, toes against toes. Now they go again making a sound like Georgy, porgy, derey, pcrey, ridely, pidely, coachy, poachy, ])i-t-e-h-h. They put the Indians in jail for indulging in the ghost dance. It could not be worse than our waltz.''?Exchange. DEAF SMITH, THE SCOUT. STORY or .i 1)1'EI. FA MO IS IX THE AXXALS OF TEXAS. In the main corridor of the magnificent capitol at Austin, Texas, there hangs an immense painting, 25x15 feet, at least, incased in a massive gilt frame. The figures are life-size, and among the most prominent are General Sam Houston, uI)eafSmith" and Santa Anna. The time represented in this historical work is immediately after the battle of San Jacinto, fought on the banks of that river, near the mouth of Buffalo Bayouon April 21, 183G, in which mem, orable struggle the famous Mexican leader was taken prisoner. In that fight General Houston was severely wounded in the ankle, and in the painting he is seen reclining under the grateful shade of a large live oak and a surgeon is in tiie act of administering to the gallant American soldier's needs. Near him, seated on a log, in the attitude of listening, is his bo.som friend and favorite, "Deaf Smith," says the New York Recorder. The history of "Deaf Smith" is one of the most extraordidary in all the annals of the frontier. The memory of that remarkable man is revered equally with that of any of the prominent actors in the war for independence of the "Lone Star State," one of whose counties is named for him. He made his appearance in Texas suddenly, at a very early period in the bloody history of its struggle with Mexico, where he continued to reside until his death, which occurred about 1848. lie had | a host of friends, and was the particular favorite of General Houston, yet none of these were ever able to learn the place of his birth or gather a single fact in relation to his life previous | to his advent among them. If quesi tioned upon the subject, he invariably | placed his index linger upon his lips, and if pressed further, his brows gath; ered in big furrows, while his intensej ly dark eyes seemed to shoot forth. I sparks of living fire. "Deaf Smith" could write with astoni.-hing facility and correctness. | Denied completely the sense of hearI ing, nature had amply compensated I him with the keenest vision and a j power of smell almost incredible. It was these powerful attributes which fitted him so admirably for the i perilous occupation of scout, in which | capacity he rendered invaluable service to General Houston's army during the war for the independence of Texas. ! He always went wherever he was sent, no matter how dangerous the duty, alone, almost invariably succeeding in obtaining the information required. His private life was as eccentric as - ? * r 1 1 t. _ tlmt ol ins oiticiai. Jie never coum ne j persuaded to sleep under the roof of a house or even accept the friendly | shelter of a tent, no matter what the I condition of the weather might he. j Wrapped in a single blanket, on the j coldest nights, he preferred to lie out in the open air, count the stars, or ga/.e for hours at the moon, when at j its full. When not in the employ of the Texas army, he hunted constantly, frequently absenting himself for weeks or even months, on solitary expeditions into the vast wilderness of the great Southwest. About two years after the end of j the Texas revolution, a difficulty occurred between the new government and | a portion of the citizens. The constitution had fixed the city of Austin as the permanent capital, where the archives of the public were to be kept, with a reservation, however, of a power vested in the president to order their temporary removal in case of ! danger from the inroads of a foreign enemy, or the force of a sudden insurrection. The Comanchcs, the most impudent and powerful tribe of Indians in the Southwest, began to commit their characteristic atrocities within the very sight of the young capital. Upon this demonstration of what might become serious hostilities, General Houston, the president, who resided in the town of Washington, on the Hrazos, dispatched an order commanding those under him at Austin to send the State records to Washington. A mass meeting of the citizens and farmers of the adjacent country was called. After many fiery speeches it was unanimously decided to prevent the removal of the archives, by open and armed force, if necessary. To that end a company of 400 men was or ganizeu, one moiety 01 which, relieving the other at regular intervals, should keep constant guard around the Statehouse until the peril passed by. The commander of this force in rebellion against the authorities was Colonel Morton, who had achieved considcraI ble renown in the war for independ! ence, and still more recently had displayed a desperate bravery in two terble duels, in both of which he had literally cut his antagonist to pieces with his formidable bowieknife. The colonel swore by the honor of a Texan that if General Houston removed the records I of the State from Austin he would himself hunt him down like a wolf and j shoot him with as little ceremony, i He had the impudence to write to the hero of San Jacinto to that effect. The general, whom nothing could intimidate, replied in the following note of j characteristic brevity: "If the people of Austin do not send the archives I shall certainly come and take them ; and if Colonel Morton can I kill me, he is welcome to my ear-cap." , On the reception of the president's j note the "Committee of Safety" held a continuous session in the City Hall, and everything betokened the bursting of a severe political storm. One day, while matters were in this boiling condition, the committee I in the city hall was surprised by the ....nf )i cff.immr | MiUUt'U Uj'jruui unvv; v/i ut on ... i.j_, v.. , whose mode of entrance was as cxi traordinary as his looks and dress. ! Climbing, unseen, a small, bushytopped live-oak which grew beside the j wall of the building, he leaped with! out the slightest warning through a i high window, and was immediately in the presence of the secret guardians | of the city's welfare, lie was dressed throughout in buckskin, the seams ot his trousers and coat heavily fringed : and the front of the latter beaded and poreupined, after the fashion of an Indian chiefs costly garment of state. 1 He carried a long, very heavy ritle in J his right hand, wore at a button on his I coat an immense bowieknife, an<l in his belt a brace of flint-lock pistols half as long as his gun. "Who are you that dares to intrude j among gentlemen without being in- i vited ?" thundered out Colonel Morton, at the same moment endeavoring to cow down the stranger by the ferocious | glance of his eye. The stranger returned the colonel's stare with compound interest, at the instant laying a long, bony finger on ! his lips as a sign, but of what import ! the committee was at a loss to determine. "Who arc you ? Speak, or I will cut , an answer out of your heart," yelled the incensed colonel, almost insane j with rage at the calm, sneering manner of the stranger, who now, at this last demonstration of the irascible col- j i onel, removed the finger from his lips and laid his hands on the hilt of bis ! I immense bowie. ! The fiery colonel upon this move- ; raeut drew his dagger, and was in the act of advancing upon the stranger when several friends interfered, and, holding him back, remonstrated : "Let him alone, Morton, for (lod's sake! Dou't you see the man's crazy ?" ! At this juncture Judge Webb, a [ man of fine intellect and a courteous ! gentleman in all his deportment, i stepped toward the stranger and addressed him in a most respectful style: j "My good friend, I presume you have made a mistake in the house. This is 1 I a private meeting, where none but I . members are admitted." The intruder did not appear to un- i i derstand the words of the judge, but I he could not fail to comprehend the I i mild, deprecatory manner in which he j addressed him. His stern features re| laxed immediately, and, moving to- ! j ward a table in the middle of the room | on which were writing materials, he took up a pen and traced one line : "I J am deaf." He then held it up before his audience as a sort of apology for i his apparent lack of politeness. Judge Webb took the paper and j ! wrote a question : ".wear sir, win you be so obliging as to inform lis what is : your present business with the meet: ing ?" The stranger responded promptly by | i handing him a letter inscribed: "To i the citizens of Austin." The judge broke the seal and read the contents i aloud. It was from President Hous- | ! ton, and showed the terseness of his | usual style: ''Ff.i.low-Citizkn8 : Though in eri ror, and deceived by traitors, I will give you three days more to decide whether you will surrender the public J archives. At the end of that time you will please let me know your decision. Sam Houston." After the document had been read ; the man waited a few seconds as if for a reply, then turned and was about to I leave the hall when Colonel Morton interposed and sternly beckoned him I back to the table again, where he was still sitting. The stranger obeyed, j Then the colonel took up a pen and wrote : "You were brave enough to insult me by your threatening looks 10 minutes ago; are you brave enough now to give me satisfaction ?" The ! stranger instantly penncu ms repiy: | "I am at your service." Colonel Morton wrote again : ' Who j will be your second." j The stranger answered with pen : "I { am too generous to seek an advantage, and too brave to fear any on the part of ! others, therefore, I never need a secj oud." The colonel then wrote: I "Name your time." Again the stranger traced, without a moment's hesitation: "Time, sunset j this evening; place, the left bank of the Colorado, opposite Austin ; weap! ons, rilles, and distance 100 yards." ! Then, taking three steps across the floor, he disappeared. After he had gone Judge Webb exI claimed : "What! is it possible Colonel Mor! ton, that you intend to fight that man? ! He is a mute, if not a positive maniac, i Such a meeting, I fear, will sadly tari nishthe lustre of your laurels." "You are mistaken," replied the colonel with a smile, "that mute is a hero, whose fame stands in the record I of a do/en battles, and at last half as many bloody duels. Besides, he is the ! bosom friend of General Houston. If I liave the good fortune to kill him, I , think it will tempt the president to re; tract bis vow against venturing any : more 011 the field of honor." "Who is he?" inquired a dozen voices together. "Deaf Smith," answered Colonel Morton, coolly. " 'Deaf Smith was killed at the battle of San Jacinto," remarked Judge Webb. "There again your honor is mistaken," said the colonel. "That story of : Smith's death was a mere fiction, gotten up by General Houston to save the life of his favorite from the sworn vengeance of certain Texans into whose conduct he had inquired as spy. I j found that out a year ago." "Well, if what you say be true, you i are a madman yourself, Colonel Morton," exclaimed Judge Webb, hotly. (1 lllnnf Smitll' ?> !? ?U>Vf>V knmVfl tf> miss his mark." \ "Say no more," answered the colo! nel; "I have agreed to meet him. There can be no disgrace in falling before such a shot, and. if I should succeed, my triumph will confer greater glory." Towards evening a vast crowd as sembled at the place appointed, to witness the hostile meeting. So great was the popular recklessness concerning affairs of that character that large j sums of money were wagered on the I result. j At length the summer sun reached the edge of the horizon, covering it ; with a crimson glow. Then the two mortal antagonists appeared on the | beach, armed with long, ponderous { rifles, and took their stations, back to back. At a preconcerted signal?the waving of a white handkerchief?they ; walked off slowly and steadily in opj posite directions, deliberately counting their steps until each had measured 50, when they wheeled. The face of Colonel Morton was calm, but it bore I the smile of a most murderous meaning. "Deaf Smith's" countenance was as stern and passionateless as ever. The colonel was dressed in the richest broadcloth ; "Deaf Smith" in the traditional smoke-tinted buckskin. There was a pause of several seconds, and then two rifles were discharged with simultaneous voices. Colonel Morton , gave a tremendous bound into the air and dropped to the ground dead, i "Deaf Smith" stood erect and began to reload his rifle, which, finishing, he turned into the forest that bordered the river. Three days afterward General Hous! ton, accompanied by "Deaf Smith" and ; ten other men, appeared in Austin, j and without opposition removed the archives to Washington. THE OUIUIN OF ''DIXIE." When slavery existed in New York, I one Dixy owned a large number of slaves. The increase of the slaves and | the increase of the abolition sentiment i caused an emigration of the slaves to ' more thorough and secure slave sections; and tlie negroes who were thus sent off (many being born there) naturally looked back to their old homes, where thev lived in clover, with feel ings of regret, and they could not im ngine any place like Dixy's, says a correspondent of the New Orleans Delta, llence it became synonymous ! with an ideal locality, combined ease, i comfort, and material happiness in j every description. In those days negro singing and nunsiereisy were in ineir infancy, and any subject that could lie wrought into a ballad was eagerly picked up. This was the case with "Dixie." It originated in New York and assumed the proportions of a song there. In its travels it has been enlarged. A "chorus" has been added to it, and from an indistinct "chant" of two or three notes, it has become an elaborate ^ melody. But the fact that it is a Southern song "cannot he rubbed out." 1 A writer in the Charleston Courier, } under date of June 11. ISC 1. says: <l 'Dixie' is an old Northern negro air, and the words referred to one I)ix, or Dixy, who had an estate on Manhattan island, now New York city. General Longstreet gives this version of the origin of the song: "Writing from memory, one cannot claim to stand closely by the records, hence I only give recollections of the matter. It originated with the Southern hoys at the military academy at West Point. and sprung from their admiration of the Northern man named Dixie, who took a noble stand upon the question of 'Southern Rights.' He had moved South and lived among us many years. The song came afterward." General Longstreet became a graduate of West I'oint in the year 1842. He is pre-eminently a man of reminiscences, and as everyone knows, is especially regarded as authority upon.all matters pertaining to the civil war or in any way associated with it. The information he has contributed in this instance will, therefore, be reconized as in the highest degree valuable. By General Longstreet'saccount, the man Dixie is certainly placed in a very much more enviable light than lie is by the correspondent of the New Orleans Delta, who leads one to believe that upon the increase of the abolition sentiment the shrewd Dixie disposed of all of his slaves to unsuspecting Southerners, thus fortifying himself against the possible loss of property which might accrue from the agitation regarding slavery then prevailing at the North. The origin of the song "Dixie," as indicated by General Longstreet, makes it appear peculiarly fitting that the song should go forth as the national air of the Confederacy.?St. Louis Republic. LAWS OF THE STATE. A Joint Resolution to provide for the calling of a Constitutional Convention. Section 1. Be it resolved by the sen ate and house of representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in general assembly, and by the authority of the same. That the question of calling a constitutional convention of the people of South Carolina be submitted to the qualified electors of said State at the next general election, and if a majority of the electors qualified to vote for members of the general assembly, voting on said question, vote in favor of such convention, it shall be I the duty of the general assembly, at j the next session, to designate the'time and place and to prescribe the manner of holding said convention. Sec. 2. That the question of calling of said constitutional convention shall ; be submitted'to said qualified electors in the following manner: Those in faj vor of a constitutional convention I shall deposit a ballot with the followiug r words plainly written or printed thereon, to-wit: "Constitutional Conveni tion?Yes." Those opposed to calling i said convention shall deposit a ballot i with the following words plainly writj ten or printed thereon, "Constitutional?? j Convention?No." Approved December 10, 1892. | An Act to prevent cruelty to children and to provide for the punishment of the same. Section 1. Be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the 1 State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in general assembly, and by the authority of the same. That whoever tortures, torments, cruelly ill treats, or whoever deprives of necessary suste- N I nance or shelter, or whoever inflicts | unnecessary pain or suffering upon auy child, or whoever causes the same to be done, whether such person be the i parent jor guardian of such child, or have charge or custody of the same, shall for every such offense be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and be pun1 ished by imprisonment in jail by not exceeding thirty days, or by fine not exceeding one hundred dollars. Sec. 2. That all the provisions of nhiintpr I.I I of the iron oral statutes in reference to the prevention of cruelty to animals, be extended to the enforcement of this act. Approved December 15, A. I). 1892. NOT YOURS. M'T YOU. I What man is vastly more important than what he has; a man is worthy of much more attention than his possessions. The great apostle to the Gentiles \Vas not a fisher of money, but a "fisher of menand he said to his j brethren to whom ho wrote; "I seek not yours, hut you." And again he commends the generosity of his brethren who "first give their ownselves to the Lord, and then unto us by the will of God. Y'ou may get a man's money and not get the man himself, but if you get the man soundly converted to God, the money is sure to follow. People make great mistakes in going for the money first; and yet it is often the case that people are much more ready to ask for money than they are to beseech them to be reconciled to God, and some ministers are much more famous 1 for collections than they are for conversions. There are churches where a man might attend for a considerable time and no one would say anything to him about his salvation, but he would speedily be invited to hire a sitting, or contribute to the funds of the concern. Some nersons seem to look upon their gifts to good causes as a sort of atonement for their sius, and often I when Christians importunately solicit funds of sinners, it is he feared that they lose more in moral power than j they gain in financial strength. There were some kinds of money which the Lord anciently would not accept, or allow to he cast into his treasury: hut the financial pressure and necessity caused hy the denominational rivalries 1 of today, make it frequently seem neci essary to get all the money that can be obtained by whatever means, and from whatever source. Sinners, worldlings, dramsellers, blasphemers, secret clans I and orders, all are importuned to sustain "the cause of Clod!" They give, but they arc sure in some way to get their money's worth, either in influence, show praise, self-righteousness, or immunity from appeals, and reproofs. "Thy money perish with thee," was the awful rebuke uttered by the great apostle when one thought the gift of (iod could be purchased j with money ; and a little more independence and truthtclling reproof at the j present day, might not bring as much money, but might be far more effective in winning men. When men are converted to God, financial matters I give but little trouble ; but money without men accomplishes very little for i the good of the world or for the glory of God. "We seek not yours, but ! you Kx-Surgcon General Hamilton believes there will be more cholera with the coming of spring. There is little or no doubt of it, agrees the New York Recorder. The country ought to ho ready lot it, and so ought every ' town and every person in the counI