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lewis m. grist. proprietor.| 31 a Jndcpcndcnf ^iiiiill] Jtlcii'spapcr: ,.t'or the |)roinotion of this political, Social, Agricultural and (fpoiiiinerciat Jntcrcsts of the .^outli. [terms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL.39. YOEKVILLB, 8. O., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 33, 1893. NO. 34. ' I - - ? - Waring' BY CAPT. CHAR [Copyright, 18ft] by J. II. Lippincott A* 0 v. All that day the storm raged in fury; the levee road was blocked in places by the boughs torn from overhanging trees, and here, there and everywhere turned into a quagmire by the torrents that could find no adequate egress to the northward swamps. For over a mile above the barracks it looked like one vast canal, and by nine o'clock it was utterly impassable. No cars ? - it. Jlil were running on tne uuapiuuiuu mau to the "half-way house," whatever they might be doing beyond. There was only one means of communication between the garrison and the town, and that on horseback along the crest of the levee, and people in the secondstory windows of the store and dwelling houses along the other side of the way, driven aloft by the drenched condition of the ground floor, were surprised to see the number of times some Yankee soldier or other made the dismal trip. Cram, with a party of four, was perhaps the first. Before the dripping sentries of the old guard were relieved at nine o'clock every man and woman at the barracks was aware that foul murder had been done during the night, and that old Lascelles, slain by some unknown hand, slashed and hacked irf a dozen places, according to the storie3 afloat, lay in his gloomy old library up the levee road, with a flood already a foot deep wiping- out from the grounds about the house all traces of his assailants. Dr. Denslow, in examining the body, found just one deep, downward stab, entering above the upper rib and doubtless reaching the heart?a stab made by a long, straight, sharp, two-edged blade. lie had been dead evidently some hours when discovered by Cram, who had now gone to town to warn the authorities, old Brax meantime having taken upon himself the responsibility of placing a guard at the house, with orders to keep Alphonse and his mother in and everybody else out. It is hardly worth while to waste time on the various theories advanced in the garrison as to the cause and means of the dreadful climax. That Doyle should be away from the post provoked neither comment nor speculation; he was not connected in any way with the tragedy. But the fact that Mr. Waring was absent all night, coupled with the stories of his devotions to madame, was to several minds prima facie evidence that his was the bloody hand that wrought the deed? that he was now a fugitive from justice, and Mme. Lascelles, beyond doubt, the guilty partner of his flight. Everybody knew by this time of their being together much of the morning: how could people help knowing, when Dryden had seen them? In his elegantly jocular way, Dryden was already condoling with Ferry on the probable loss of his Hatfield clothes, and comforting him with the assurance that they always gave a feller a new black suit to be hanged in, so he might get his duds back after all, only they must get Waring first. Jeffers doubtless would have been besieged with questions but for Cram's foresight: his master had ordered him to accompany him to town. In silence a second time the little party rode away, passing the flooded homestead where lay the murdered man, then, farther on, gazing in mute curiosity at the closed shutters of the premises some infantry satirists had already christened "the dove-cot." T!7Vi?+ norc.fi Kim nr Kic tionable helpmate? Still, they could i not J>ut note how gloomy and deserted It all appeared, with two feet of water lapping the garden walL Summoned by his master, Jeffers knuckled his oilskin hat-brim and pointed out the spot where Mr. Waring stood when ho knocked the cabman into the mud, but Jeffers' tongue was tied and his cockney volubility gone. The tracks made by Cram's wagon up the slope were already washed out. Bending forward to dodge the blinding storm, the party pushed along the embankment until at last the avenues and alleys to the right gave proof of better drainage. At Rampart street they separated, Pierce going on to report the tragedy to the police, Cram turning to his right and following the broad thoroughfare another mile, until Jeffers, indicating a big, old-fashioned, broad-galleried southern house standing in the midst of grounds once trim and handsome, but now showing signs of neglect and ponury, simply said: "'Ere, sir." And here the p>arty dismounted. Cram entered the gate and palled a clanging bell. The door was almost Instantly op>ened by a colored girl, at whose side, with eager joyous face, was the pretty child he had seen so often playing about the Lascelles homestead, and the eager joyous look faded Instantly away. "She t'ink it M'sieur Vareeng who comes to arrive," explained the smiling colored girL "Ah! It is Mmo. d'Hervilly I wish to see," answered Cram, briefly, "tleaso take her my card." And, throwing off his dripping raim coat and tossing it to Jeffers, who had followed to the veranda, the captain stepped within the hall " and held forth his hands to 2sin Nin, begging her to come to him who was so good a friend of Mr. Waring. But she would not. The tears of disap>pointment were in the dark eyes as the little one turned and ran away. Cram enuld hear the centle.soothinrr tones of the mother striving to console her little one?the one widowed and the other orphaned by the tidings he bore. Even then he noted how musical, how full of rich melody, was that soft Creole voice. And then Mme. d'Hervilly appeared, a stately, dignified, picturesque gentlewoman of perhaps fifty years. She greeted him with punctilious civility, but with manner as distant as her words were few. "I have come on a trying errand," he began, when she held up a slender, f jeweled hand. "Pardon. Pcrmettez ? Mme. Lascelles," she called, and before Cram could find words to interpose, a servant was speeding to summon the very woman he had hoped not to have to see. "Oh, madam," he murmured low, hurriedly, "I deplore my,ignorance. I cannot speak French. Try to understand me. Mr. Lascelles is home, dangerously stricken. I fear the worst. You must tell her." " 'Ome! La bas? C' est impossible." "It is true," he burst in, for the swish of silken skirt was heard down the long passage. "II est mort?mort," he whispered, mustering up what little French he knew and then cursing himself for an imbecile. "Mort! O ciel!" The words came with a shriek of anguish from the lips of the eldep woman and were echoed by a scream from beyond. In an instant, wild-eyed, horror-stricken, Emilie Laseelles had sprung up to her tottering mother's side. "When? What mean you?" she gasped. "Mme. Laseelles," he sadly spoke, "I had hoped to spare you this, but it is too late now. Mr. Laseelles was found lying on the sofa in his library this morning, lie had died hours before, during the night." And then he had to spring and catch the fainting woman in his arms. She was still moaning and only semi-conscious when the old family doctor and her brother, Pierre d'llervilly, arrived. Half an hour later Cram astonished the aids-de-camp and other bored staff officials by appearing at the general loafing room at headquarters. To the chorus of inquiry as to what s Peril. | LES KING, U. S. A. o., and published by special arrangement.] [ brought him up In such a storm "he I made brief reply, and then asked imj mediately to speak with the adjutant i general and Lieut. Reynolds, and, to | the disgust and mystification of all the ! others, he disappeared with these into | an adjoining room. There he briefly | told the former of the murder, and ! o clrnrl /ni? n witli "innIap I WiVU IV* *. V..V JU-4V4. Reynolds was a character. Tall, ; handsome and distinguished, he had served throughout the war as a %-olun| teer, doing no end of good work, and I getting many a word of praise, but, as i all his service was as a staff officer, it ! was his general who reaped the reward of his labors. lie had risen, of course, j I to the rank of major in the staff in the j 1 volunteers, and everybody had j prophesied that he would be appointed 1 a major in the adjutant or inspector : general's department in the permanent establishment. But there were not | enough places by any means, and the few vacancies went to men who knew | better how to work for themselves, j "Take a lieutenancy now, and we will fix you by and by," was the suggestion, and so it resulted that here he was three years after the war wearing the modest strap of a second lieutenant, doing the duties and accepting the j responsibilities of a far higher grade, and being patronized by seniors who were as much his inferiors in rank as they were in ability during the war days. Everybody said it was a shame, r and nobody helped to better his lot. j j He was a man whose counsel was valu- j able on all manner of subjects. Among1 j j other things, he was well versed in all j that pertained to the code of honor as { it existed in the ante-bellum days,? had himself been "out," and, as was well known, had but recently officiated as second for an officer who had need , of his services. He and Waring were friends from the start, and Cram counted on tidings of his absent subaltern in appealing to him. Great, therefore, was his consternation when in reply to his inquiry Reynolds promptly answered that he had neither seen nor heard from Waring in over forty-eight hours. This was a facer. "What's wrong, Cram?" "Read that," said the captain, placing j a daintily-written note in the aid-de- ! j camp's hand. It was brief but explicit: I j "Con. Braxton: Twice have I warned you I i that the attentions of your Lieut. Waring to ! Mme. Lascelles meant mischief. This morn- 1 ing, under pretenso of visiting her mother, she left the house in a cab, but in halt an hour was j seen driving with Mr. Waring. This has been, j as I have reason to know, promptly carried to j j M. Lascelles by people whom he had cm- I ployed for the purpose. 1 could have told you j | last night that M. Lascelles' friends had noti- | I fled Lieut Waring that a duel would be exact- j cd should ho bo soon with madamo again, and now it will certainly coma You have seeu fit j to scorn my warnings hitherto, the result is on j your head." There was no signature whatever. "Who wrote this rot?" asked Reyn- j olds. "It seems to me I've seen that | : hand before." "So have I, and pitched the trash into the fire, as I do everything anon: ymous that comes my way. But Brax ; says that this is the second or third, j 1 and he's worried about it, and thinks j | there may be truth iu the story." "As to the duel, or as to the devo- j tions to madame?" asked Reynolds, I . calmly. "We-11, both, and we thought you ; would be most apt to know whether a , i fight was on. Waring promised to rc- j . j turn to the post on taps last night. In- | stead oi that, he is gone?uoa Knows i where?and the old man, the reputed ! . challenger, lies dead at his home. | J Isn't that ugly?" I Reynold's face grew very grave. j , i "Who last saw Waring, that you know of?" | . "My man Jeffers left him on Canal street just after dark last night. IIo was then going to dine with friends at the St. Charles." "The Allertons?" , "Yes." "Then wait till I see the chief, and I'll go with j-ou. Say nothing about , this matter yet." Reynolds was gone but a moment. A little later Cram and the aid were , at the St. Charles rotunda, their cards sent up to the Allertons' rooms. Presently down came the bell-boy. Would I the gentlemen walk up to the parlor? j This was awkward. They wanted to ( see Allcrton himself, and Cram felt ] morally confident that Miss Flora ( Gwendolen would be on hand to welcome and chat with so distinguished a i looking fellow as Reynolds. There , was no help for it, however. It would ; be possible to draw off the head of the ( family after a brief call upon the < ladies. Just as they were leaving , the marble-floored rotunda, a short, swarthy man in "pepper-and-salt" business suit touched Cram on the , arm, begged a word, and handed him a card. "A detective?already?" asked Cram, ' iu surprise. "I was with the chief when Lieut. Pierce came in to report the matter," was the brief response, "and I came here to see your man. He is reluctant to tell what he knows without your consent. Could j-ou have him leave the horses with your orderly below and come up here a moment?" "Why, certainlj*, if you wish; but I can't see why," said Cram, surprised. "You will sec, sir, in a moment." And then Jeffers, with white, troubled face, appeared, and twisted his wet hat-brim in nervous worriment. "Now, what do you want of him?" asked Cram: "Ask him, sir. who was the man who , slipped a greenback into his hand at the ladies' entrance last evening. ! What did he want of him?" Jeffers turned a greenish yellow. His every impulse was to lie. and the detective saw it. "You need not lie, Jeffers," he said, very quietly. "It will do no good. I saw the men. I can tell your master who one of them was, and possibly lay my hands on the second when lie is ' wanted; but I want you to tell and to explain what that greenback meant." Then Jeffers broke down and merelj* blubbered. "Hi meant no 'arm, sir. Hi never dreamed there was hanything wrong. 'Twas Mr. Lasccllcs, sir. 'E said 'e ? 'iu 1 fi rl t? UclIUC \AJ Lliailtv HA*J ivi AO 1UVM , sir. Then 'c wanted to see Mr.Warink, sir." "Why didn't you tell ine of this before?" demanded the captain, sternly. "You know what happened this morning-." "Hi didn't want to 'avo Mr. Warink suspected, sir," was poor Jcffers' halftearful explanation, as Mr. Allerton suddenly entered the little hall-way room. The grave, troubled faces caught his eye at once. "Is anything wrong?" he inquired, anxiously. "I hope Waring is all right. I tried to induce him not to start, but he said he had promised and must go." "What time did he leave you, Mr. Allerton?" asked Cram, controling as much as possible the tremor of his voice. "Soon after the storm broke,?about nine-thirty. I should say. lie tried to get a cab earlier, but the drivers woman i agree 10 go ?uwu iui un.>thing less than a small fortune. Luckily, his Creole friends had a carriage." "Ills what?" "His friends from near the barracks. They were here when we came down into the rotunda to smoke after dinner." Cram felt his legs and feet grow owld and a chill run up his spine. "Who were they? Did j'ou catch 1 their names?" I "Only one. I was introduced as they were about to drive away. A little old fellow with elaborate manners?a M. Lascellcs." "And Waring drove away with him?" "Yes, with him and one other, i Seemed to bo a friend of Lascelles. J Drove off in a' closed carriage with a | driver all -lone up in rubber and oil- j skin, who said lie perfectly knew tho | road. Vv hy, what's gone amiss?" VL And all day long the storm beat I upon the substantial buildings of the ! old barracks ana nooaea tne io\v i ground about the sheds and stables. I Drills for the infantry were necessarily ! suspended, several sentries even being taken off their posts. The men clustered in the squad-rooms and listened | with more or less credulity to the the- i ories and confirmatory statements of fact as related by the imaginative or : loquacious of their number. The majority of the officers gathered under I the flaring lamp-lights at the sutler's j store and occupied themselves pretty j much as did their inferiors in grade, t though poker and punch?specialties of ' Mr. Finkbein, the sutler?lent addi- I tianal color to the stories in circula- j tion. From this congress the better ele- : ment of the commissioned force was | absent, the names, nationalities and j idiomatic peculiarities of speech of thy individual members being identical in most instances with those of their comrades in arms in the ranks. "Brax" had summoned Minor, Lawrence, Kin- | sey and Dryden to hear what the post 1 surgeon had to say on his return, but ! cautioned them to keep quiet. As a ! result of this precaution, the mystery of the situation became redoubled by i one o'clock, and was intensified by two, j when it was announced that lh-ivate ! Dawson had attempted to break away . out of the hospital after a visit from the same doctor in his professional ca- | paeity. People were tempted out on i their galleries in the driving storm, and colored servants flitted from kitchen to kitchen to gather or dispense new rumors, but nobody knew what to make of it when, soon after two, an orderly rode in from town dripping with mud and wet, delivered a note to the colonel and took one from him to Mr. Ferry, now sole representative of the officers of Battery "X" present for duty. Ferry in return sent ; the bedraggled horseman on to the battery quarters with an order to the first sergeant, and in about fifteen minutes a sergeant and two men, mounted and each leading a spare horse, appeared under Ferry's gallery, and that officer proceeded to occupy one of the vacant saddles and, followed by his party, went clattering out of the sally-port and splashing over to the levee. Stable call sounded as usual at four o'clock, and, for the first time in the record of that disciplined organization since the devastating hand of j*ellow jack was laid j upon it the previous year, no officer ap- j pcarcd to supervise the grooming and j feeding. Two of them were at the | post, however. Mr. Dojde, in arrest ! on charge of absence without leave, 1 was escorted to his quarters about four-fifteen, and was promptly visited I by sympathizing and inquisitive com- j rades from the Hotel Finkbein, while I Mr. Ferry, who had effected the ar- j rest, was detained making his report i to the post commander. Night came , on apace, the wind began to die away with the going down of the sun, the rain ceased to fall, a pallid moon began peering at odd intervals through rifts in the cloudy veil, when Cram rode plashing back into barracks, worn | witn anxiety mm cure, uu ciocu ^ o'clock, and stopping only for a mo- t ment to take his wife in his anns and j kiss her anxious face and shake his j head in response to her eager query ' for news of Waring, he hurried down- j stairs again and over to Doyle's quar- j ters. All was darkness there, but he never hesitated. Tramping loudly over the gallery, he banged at the door, then, turning the knob, intending to burst right in, as was the way in the rough old days, was surprised to find the bolt set. "Doyle, open. I want to see you at once." All silence within. "Doj'le, open, or, if you are too drunk to get up, I'll kick in the door." A groan, a whispered colloquy, then the rattle of bolts and chain. The | door opened about an inch, and an oily Irish voice inquired: 'Tlwat's wanted, capt'in?" "You hero?" exclaimed Cram, In disgust. "What business have you in this garrison? If the colonel knew it you'd be driven out at the point of the bayonet." "Sure, where should wife be but at her husband's side whin he's sick and sufferin'? Didn't they root him out of bed and comfort this day and ride him down like a felon in all the storm? Sure it was the doughboys' orders, sir. I told Doyle the capt'in never would have?" "Oh, be quiet; I must see Doyle, and at once." '"Sure, he's not able, capt'in. Yon know how it is wid hiin; he's that sinsitivc he couldn't ^>ear to talk of the disgrace he's bringing on the capt'in and the battliery, and I knowed he'd been dlirinkin', sir, and I came back to look for him, but he'd got started, capt'n, and it's?" "Stop this talk! lie wasn't drinking at all until you came back here to hound liim. Open that door, or a file of guard will." "Oeh! thin wait till I'm dressed, for decency's sake, capt'in. Sure I'll thry and wake him." And then more whispering, the click of glass, maudlin protestation in Doyle's thick tones. Cram banged at the door and demanded instant obedience. Admitted at las{, he strode to the side of an ordinary hospital cot, over which the mosquito bar was now ostentatiously drawn, and upon which was stretched the bulky frame of the big1 Irishman, his red, blear-eyed, bloated face half covered in his arms. The close air reeked with the fumes of whisky. In her distress lest Jim should take too much, the claimant of his name and protection had evidently been sequestrating a large share for herself. "How on earth did you get here? Your house was flooded all da}-," angrily asked Cram. "Sure we made a raft, sir?'I.ouette and me?and poled over to the levee, and I walked every fut of the way down to follow me husband, as I swore I would whin we was married. I'd 'a' come in Anatolc's boat, sir, but 'twas gone?gone since last night. Did ye know that, capt'in?" A groan and a feverish toss from the occupant of the narrow bed interrupted her. "Hush, Jim darlin'! Here's the capt'in to see you and tell you he's come back to have you roighted. Sure how could a poor fellow be expected to come home in all that awful storm this morning, capt'in? 'Tis for not comin' the colonel had him under arrest; but I tell him the capt'in '11 see him through." Cut Cram pushed her aside as she still interposed between him and the bed. "TVm.1/1 Iin nnrl nnCU'UP. Dnvle. I say!" Again vehement protestations, and now an outburst of tears and pleadings, from the woman. "Oh, he can't understand you, capt'in. Ah, don't be hard on him. Only this mornin' he was sajdn' how the capt'in reminded him of the ould foine days whin the officers was all gintlemen and soldiers. He's truer to ye than all the rest of tliim, sir. D'ye nioiiul that, capt'in? Ye wouldn't bolave it, mabby, but there's them that can tell ye Loot'nant Waring was no friend of yours, sir, and worse than that, if ould Lascelles could spake now ?but there's tlnm left that can, glory be to God!" "Oh, for God's sake shut up," spoke Cram roughly, goaded beyond all patience. "Doyle, answer me!" And he shook him hard. "You were at the Pelican last night, and you saw Mr. Waring and spoke with him? What did he want of you? Where did he go? Who were with him? Was there any quarrel? Answer, I sayl Do you know?" But maudlin moaning and incoherencies were all that Cram could extract from the prostrate man. Again the woman interposed, eager, tearful. "Sure he was there, capt'in, he was there; he told me of it whin I fetched him home last night to git him out of the storm and away from that place; but he's too dhrunk now to talk. Sure there was no gettin' down here to barx for anybody. The cabman, sir, said no carriage could make it." "What cabman? That's one thing I want to know. Who is he? What became of him?" "Sure and how do I know, sir? Me was a quiet, dacent man, sir; the same that Mr. Waring bate so cruel and made Jeffers kick and bate him too. I saw it all." "And was he at the l'clican last night? I must know." "Sure he was indade, sir. Doyle said so when I fetched him home, and though he can't tell you now, sir, he told me thin. They all came down to the Pelican, sir, Waring and Lascelles and the other gintlemen, and they had dhrink, and there was trouble botwecn the Frenchman and Waring,? sure you can't blame him, wid his wife goin' on so wid the loot'nant all the last month, ? and blows was struck, and Doyle interposed to stop it, sir, loikc the gintlcman that he is, and the cab-driver took a han^l and pitched him out into the mud. Sure he'd been dhrinking a little, sir, and was aisy upset, but that's all he knows. The carriage drove awa3', and there was three of thira, and poor Doyle got caught out there in the mud and in the storm, and 'twas me went out wid Dawson and another of the byes and fetched him in. And we niver hecrd of the murther at all all, sir, until I came down here to-day, that's God's troot, and he'll tell ye so whin he's sober," she ended breathlessly, reckless of her descriptive confusion of Doyle and Divinity. And still the Irishman lay there,, limp, soggy, senseless, and at last, dismayed and disheartened, the captain turned away. "Promise to sober him up by reveille, and you may stay. But hear this: If he cannot answer for himself by that time, out you go in the battery cart with a policeman to take you to the calaboose." And then he left. No sooner had his footsteps died' away than the woman turned on her patient, now struggling to a sitting posture. "Lie still, you thafe and cur, and swaro you to every word I say, unless you'd hang in his place. Dhrink this, now, and go to slape, and be riddy to tell the story I give ye in the mornin', or may the knife ye drove in that poor mummy's throat come back to cut your coward heart out." And Doyle, shivering, sobbing, crazed with drink and fear, covered his eyes with his hands and threw himself back on his hot and steaming pillow. The morning sun rose brilliant and cloudless as the horses of the battery, came forth from the dark interior of the stable and, after watering at the long wooden trough on the platform, were led away by their white-frocked si.w.li L-nrtt L\n ife /uvn K1WUIUO, V.ivi. JVV.U.M, .kO .. line. Ferry, supervising the duty, presently caught sight of the tall muscular form of his captain coming briskly around the corner, little Pierce tripping along by his side. Cram acknowledged the salute of the battery officer of the day in hurried fashion. " Good-morning, Ferry," ho said. "Tell me, who were there when you got Doyle away from that woman yesterday?" "Only the three, sir,?Mr. and Mrs. Doyle and the negro girl." " No sign of anybody else?" "None, sir. I didn't go in the houso at all. I rode in the gate and called for Doyle to come out. The woman tried to parley, but I refused to recognize her at all, and presently Doyle obeyed without nny trouble whatever, though she kept up a tirade all the time and said he was too sick to ride and all that, but he wasn't. lie seemed dazed, but not drunk?certainly not sick. He rode all right, only he shivered and crossed himself and moaned when he passed the Lascelles place, for that hound pup set up a howl just as we were opposite the big gate. He was all trembling when we reached the post, and took a big drink the moment he got to his room." "Ye-es, lie's been drinking ever since. I've just sent the doctor to see him. Let the corporal anil one man of the guard go with the ambulance to escort Mrs. Iloyle out of the garrison and take her home. She shall not stay." "Why, she's gone, sir," said Ferry. "The guard told me she went out of the back gate and up the track towards Anatolc's?going for all she was worth ?just after dawn." "The mischief she has! What can have started her? Did you see her yourself, Sergt. Dennett?" asked the captain of a stocky little Irish soldier, standing at the moment with drawn saber awaiting opportunity to speak to his commander. "Yes, sir," and the saber came flashing up to the present. "She'd wint over to the hospital to get some medicine for the lieutenant just after our bugle sounded first, call, and she came runnin' out as I wint to call the ofliccr of the day, sir. She ran back to the lieutenant's quarters ahead of inc, and was up only a minute or two whin down she came will some bundles, and away she wint to the north running, wild-like. The steward told me a moment after of Dawson's escape." "Dawson! escaped from hospital?" "Yes, sir. They thought he was all right last vvcuing' when he was sleeping, and took the sentry off, and at four this morning he was gone." [to 1JI-: ooxtim'ki) xkxt WKKIi.] (Jovrrniiic Children. It is scarcely too much to say that almost as many children are spoiled by too much governing as by too little. As between the two courses, the child that is judiciously let alone is much better off than the one that is too much controlled. With naturally good impulses, the youngster, unless brought up in solitude and with selfish instincts and habits, is fairly likely to develop a not objectionable character. Continual contact with playfellows of his own age and condition brings out the manly and independent characteristics, and if there is freedom from irritation at home there is little to fear for the average youth. He goes out light of heart and free from annoyances, and all the world looks bright to him. But the child who goes out from home with a mind warped and a temper soured by perpetual fault finding and bickering is in a mood to take all things ill. lie goes about with a metaphorical chip on his shoulder, and there is little wonder if he gets into all sorts of trouble. An experienced teacher used to say that he could always tell the children who lived unhappily at home. They were much more troublesome at school and were almost always on the alert for slights and offenses and far more difficult to control than the children who came from happy and peaceable families.?New York Ledger. A I.iini; Time. "I have been on this road HO years, and know what I am talking about," said the I. C. and D. R. railway guard to the passenger who complained of slow time. "Twenty years! What station did you get 011 at?" gasped the passenger.? i Boston Herald. THE IDEALMERCJIA NT ! i J REV. THOMAS DIXON ON CHRISTIANITY AND BUSINESS. External Piety anil the IHouh Wlilnc?Faith In the lliitdnegs Worlil?Legitimate Self Help?The End of Commerce?A Plea j For UnnelflRhneH?. Cape Charles, Va., Aug. 20.?Rev. ! Thomas Dixon, Jr., continued today the ;eries of sennons 011 "Money and Christianity." The subject of the discourse j 1 of tlio morning was "The Ideal Mer- ! j chant.'* Text, Luke xix, 13, "And he I I eortronffl nf Ills JlTlfl f/flVP tllPIll I 1/UX1UU IUU Obi ?W?4fcw ?? ? ? ? ? W ?..V... ! ten pounds and said unto them, Trade ye herewith till I come." The merchant's business is the most i obvious and necessary relation of life. It j is one of the primal powers, original, | I necessary, universal. It is the talent of industry and enterprise, a vast system for the relief of mani kind and for the development of the earth. | It is a vast system for the spiritualizaj tion of matter. And yet it is more ligliti ly estimated by the world than the solj dier's work, the teacher's work, *he physician's work, or the lawyer's. It is [ strange that it should be more lightly esI timated than the soldier's work at first I glance. Ruskin has most beautifully j said on this point that we estimate the soldier highly not because it is his business to slay men, but because it is his 1 i business to be slain. So we estimate all | i ho professions because of the sacrifice j involved in their pursuit. So we have despised the merchant be; cause, persumptively, on the principles of modern political economy his business : has been to look out for No. 1 solely. RELIGIOUS EXTERNALS. i Vet it is true that the business of the j merchant is to provide for the nation, as it is of the soldier's to defend it, the pas' tor's to teach it, the physician to keep it j in health, the lawyer to enforce, justice j and the business of each on due occasion to die for it. We have much to learn in first princi- j j pies in so far as the application of Chris- j ! tianity to business is concerned. Men in | | business transactions are afraid of the I j pious whine. Nor do we need to introduce external piety into the house of ' business. We do not need to have a ' prayer meeting in the storehouse at noon. A man need not stop in the midst of a business transaction, as I once knew a ! man to do, look at his watch and say to j a customer, "I have got to go and pray." 1 It is not necessary to introduce the exi tenials of a religious life. But it is neces sary to make trade Christian in itself, j that it shall be in itself a high and holy i service to humanity. The work of the true merchant is no! ble, sacred, and is of the divine plan for ! the redemption of the world. FAITH IN FELLOW MEN. ! First?The truo merchant must be a j man of large faith. i He must have faith in man and God as the foundation of his commercial worm, tie couiu noi run wuuuui n -i ; hours. A boom in trade means a boom in faith. A panic means a lost faith. High prosperity in the business world means a large faith in man. A black Friday means the collapse of confidence. Our commercial world is not run by gold and silver. There is but little gold and silver in the world, computing the transactions of this world by the sum total of our currency. We do not use money, as a matter of fact. We trade in faith, and the money | that we use is a promise to pay. We have faith in the government. So your J true man of commerce must have faith j in his fellow man. It is faith that is the basis of enter! prise, of invention, of all progress. The | western world is ulive because it believes ; in humanity; believes in progress. It i has hope. The eastern world is dead be1 cause it has lost faith in man. It has no hope. You may teach the Chinaman and tho Turk to run a steam engine. He | will do it mechanically. But to give him j the power of progress you must breathe I into his soul the faiths and hopes of the svestern world. He must have an enthusiasm for humanity before he will truly work for it. No faith, no enthusiI asm. The true merchant must be a man of faith in God, in whose hands rest the storms and the seasons. He will keep in perfect peace whose mind is fixed on His eternal truth. There | will come to him puzzling hours in which vital problems of business will ! press upon his heart, and he will need . the illumination of all God's spirit upon ' his own to guide. He will need the flash ! of that deeper intuition of right that can 1 only come from a vital communion with God. For lack of faith in the business world | nothing can atone. To the man was given one talent. He had no faith. He was afraid. He laid it upon a napkin. He was condemned by the judge upon his return. i Oho of the most successful Italian fruit i dealers I ever knew was a man of the broadest confidence in his customers. I He gave freely of his fruits, and he indicated in his methods that he had that t confidence in his customers which led I j them to have confidence in him. If his i fruit was not good, lie would tell you so. If his oranges were sour, he would tell you so unhesitatingly, but told you he I hoped to have some sweeter ones nest week. The people in all the community grew to know him and to believe in him. They patronized him. His business grew apace, and he is a man of prosjierity. A miser was afraid of banks, and took his money and wrapped it up in an old J rag, opened the wall of his house and j put it between the walls for safe keep- j ing. A few years afterward when he j exhumed it he found that the rats had : cut it into 10,000 fragments and made , nests of it in various parts of the house. There was not a single scrap of all his | banknotes left. He lacked faith in man. INTERESTS ARE IDENTICAL. Second?A true merchant is one who ' helps himself only in helping others. We must help others if wo enter the world of trade loyally. Otherwise we nlav Renin the role of the man with the oii3 talent and the napkin. Honesty, truthfulness, justice, fairness?these | must be our standards of measurement I j in seeking to help self. The interests 1 j of his customer is identical with his own. I He should be the friend of his customer. ! He should create in one sense his wants, | j and supply them with promptness, with ' faithfulness?supply them even at a loss i to himself to fulfill his obligations to his j friends. The true merchant who supplies my ' .7unts is my friend. He brings to me treasures of art from remote parts of the ' world. He brings to my library the treasures of books, the ripe fruit of the choicest minds, and ho makes my life i rich in introducing me to these books. He lays before my eye carpets and rugs that please the taste, that makes homo i beautiful. He furnishes me with desk ; and chair that give comfort and make life more and more of a success. He brings to my table the choicests fruits : from the remotest corners of the earth, j the delicacies of foreign climes, the treasures of foreign Ceylon. He introduces , to the farmer and mechanic the latest invention in machinery, in tools. He 1 , brings to my children the gifts of rings j and toys, cunningly devised by the minds of curious peoples. He who thus deals with me fairly and justly is my benefac- I tor as well as my friend. True, such philosophy may be pressed beyond the bounds of courtesy when backed by greed. I am grateful to the book to which I am introduced, but the modern book agent has perhaps sometimes overstrained the courtesies of the i occasion. j The same great principle holds here j as elsewhere. The helping of self is , j legitimate if in helping self we help J others. The same law must hold for the merchant that holds for the man who occupies the more highly esteemed walks of life. They must find self in losing self. The physician is honored because of ihe implied condition of his willingness to die, if need be, in the service of man. The physician really find his highest success in the thorough giving of himself to humanity. It is not a question of fee merely. It is a question of human service, and sometimes his greatest achievements are those for which no money compensation is given. A young physician in England gave his best endeavor to the case of an old pauper woman. He cured her of a desperate disease. He was faithful in his treatment, and the old 1 1..1: J c.,,? ??,1 c<lf SOUI 1*11 UlUU 111C OUII lUOW o\, w in that man's heart. His name was ever on her lips. In her charitable work, the wife of Gladstone was brought in contact with this old woman. She found out from Mrs. Gladstone that they had a child who was grievously afflicted at the time. At once the old woman began to expatiate upon the powers of her doctor. She spoke with such contagious enthusiasm, with such soul faith, that Mrs, Gladstone determined to try the young man. She sent for him. He gave his life to the child as he gave it to the old pauper woman. The child was cured. He made his reputation and became the foremost physician of England. Ruskin well says: "We must discover a kind of commerce which is not exclusively selfish, or rather will have to discover that there never was or can be any other kind of commerce; that this which they have called commerce is not commerce at all. but cozening; that a true merchant differs as much from a merchant according to the laws of modern political economy as the hero of the excursion from Autolyeos. They will find that commerce is an occupation which a gentleman will every day see more need to engage in, rather than in the business of talking to men or slaying them; that in true commerce, as in true preaching or true fighting, it is necessary to apply the idea of occasional voluntary loss. For sixpences have to be lost as well as lives, under a senso of duty, that the market may have its martyrdoms as well as the pulpit, and trade its heroisms as well as war." CO-OPERATION VERSUS COMPETITION. Third?The climax of true commercial genius must therefore be to build prosperity upon the prosperity of the whole community. Of the community first in which ho lives, because that community makes it possible for him to succeed. Co-operation, not competition, therefore must bo the end aimed at. He must build his prosperity upon the prosperity, not only of his limited community, but of the whole world, for trade is univer :il in its genius, the first cord with which God has bound nation to nation. I am bound with every nation of the world by the ties of the merchant and his commerce. There are 110 aliens in this world of real trade. The islander in the sea, who sends the banana to my child, is my friend and benefactor. The African, who gathers the ivery and carries it across the desert to make an ornament for my home or my loved one, is my brother. The Chinaman, who cunningly constructs the fireworks which please tho soul of the child on the Fourth of July and on the gala nights of our festivals, he is of my life. So also is the Russian, who sends his robes to make warm the sleigh and the carriage. Each nation that gives its tribute to the other's life is thus bound in that life. Let us remember, then, that when we walk tf.o floor of the world's exchanges we walk on holy ground, and we should make it sacred unto God. Let us remember that to violate the laws of trade is to violate the laws of God. To get something for nothing out of 4-V>n nninmn^ifv id +n ctpill ill thfl lflst analysis and to fail in the end. And let us remember that the broadest minded philanthrophy recognizes this sacred trust. Peter Cooper, Johns Hopkins Fairweather and the men of great wealth whose names will be dear to generations yet unborn have recognized this broader truth of the communal life and the communal interests and will 1 iv* in the hearts and lives of the people when the millionaires who have gained for self and lived and died for self shall be buried in merited oblivion. The end of commerce is to increase the well being and happiness of the race. It is to provide for the nation. And it is a work that calls for as deep heroics as the work of defense or the work of teaching. Let the men of trade lift up their heads and.remember that their work is high and holy. It is not for self, but for humanity. Let us believe in one another. Let us breath the divine breath of faith, and the shadow of panic will be lifted. He that seeks to save his life shall lose it. Let lis cast our lot witn tne race. Let us be willing to die, and, behold, we shall all live! "FINANCIAL STRINGENCY." "Speaking of financial stringency," said a Wall street broker to his companions as they were lunching together yesterday, "I've got a good one to tell you. Saturday morning a tall, solemnlooking stranger went into a bank, which I might name, only I promised I wouldn't, and approaching the window of the receiving teller quietly remarked that he would like to deposit $">,000. The teller, in courteous tones,inquired if he already had an account at the bank. The stranger said he hadn't. So the teller hastened outside, escorted him into the president's room, and introduced him to the president. The president, on learning his business, smiled kindly, offered him a sent, and remarked that it was a fine day. Well, of course, they entered the new depositor's signature in a big ledger, and one i There were only six men at work in I this department. Among them was Napoleon Lavcllc, the Charleston wife murderer. He was engaged on a piece of cabinet work, and did not even take the trouble to look up. Captain j Allen says he is one of the finest cabinet makers in the State, but is always ; sullen and morose. He does not like j to be spoken to, but works along all I right as though lie were getting paid of the clerks was directed to provide him with a passbook. Then the receiving teller took him back into the bank and politely asked him for his deposit. But the stranger stroked his sandy goatee, and explained that he had merely come in to give the customary sixty days' notice, and would be around with the money 011 the 4th of October, lie added that it looked like rain and that a steady pour for half a day would prove a great blessing to the country. The teller reached for his bronze paper weight, but before he could fire it the stranger had lit out." "Speaking of financial stringency," said another of the brokers, I heard a unique illustration of it a few days ago. A man entered a pawnbroker's shop in the Bowery, and laying down a twenty-dollar bill asked if he could be accommodated with a dollar 011 it. The pawnbroker was an excellent judge of money, and saw at once that the bill was genuine. So he turned and said to the stranger, shoving the bill toward him as he spoke, that lie was in 110 mood for nonsense. But the stranger, shoving the bill back, rejoined in earnest tones that he meant business: that he couldn't get any conductor 011 a horse car to change the hill; that he had already been put oil' three cars; that his boots were awful tight, and that unless he could get a dollar on the bill he would be compelled to walk to the battery. Well, the pawnbroker could not help but feel that the stranger meant what he said. So he took up the twenty dollar bill, toyed with it a few moments and then said to him : 'Well, my friend, I'd like to accommodate you, but owing to the financial stringency I can give you only 75 cents.'" I THE STATE PENITENTIARY. How South Carolina Treati Some of her Naughty Children. VAGABONDS PERFORM HONEST LABOR. A Visit to I lie Convict* at Home ami on Farm?Note* and Incident* of More or be** Interest. ; In name, probably, to tbe average | individual, there is 110 institution in : South Carolina that is so familiar as the State penitentiary, and at the j same time there there is no public I institution about, which the people ! generally, have so little information. 1 I shall not attempt to give any partic| ular reasons for this fact. It is generally known, however, that people have very little curiosity respecting the purgatory that is supposed to he loca; ted under the earth, and, therefore, | it does not seem unnatural that they should he somewhat loath to trouble themselves with what might he ' looked upon as its counterpart on the I surface. Upon invitation of Mr. R. T. RigI gins, of the hoard of directors, today two weeks ago, I visited the j penitentiary at Columbia and the big State farm on the Three C's railroad, near Hagood's, in Sumter county. Mr. ' Riggins fulfilled his part in giving me, a pleasant time?a regular picnic?and i now, as my part of the contract, upon j me devolves the task of telling the J readers of Thk Exquirku what I saw j during the visit. I reached Columbia shortly after ! dark bv wav of the Three C's?some | two hours lute?and after a good supper and a good night's rest, next mornI ing, about <> o'clock, went with Mr. ! Riggins to the penitentiary. INSIDE THE WALLS, j The penitentiary, as is well known, j is located on the C'ongaree river, over on the western side of Columbia. The | grounds include eleven acres, suri rounded by thick brick walls, some ! twelve or fifteen feet in height. The historic State canal runs along within i a few feet of the east wall, and the j muddy Congaree dashes over rocky j shoals within a stone's throw of the inclosurc. About five of the eleven acres within the walls are taken up with buildings, streets, flower gardens, etc., and the other six acres are kept j under constant cultivation, producing I truck of various kinds for the use ol ! the officers of the penitentiary and for the convicts. The prison houses prop, er consist of two large stone structures, containing innumerable cells, i each about four feet wide, eight feet I long and seven feet high, and all securely grated with iron bars and closed ; up by means of heavy doors, to open ! which, except by proper authority, J seems impossible. Among the other ! buildings are quarters for the superin| tendent and other officers, a kitchen ; for the officers and guards, and another ' for the convicts, a large mess house j for the convicts, hospital, bath-houses, ! machine shops, grist mill, motor houses, blacksmith shop, tool house, ho! siery mill, separate quarters for the women, and other structures of which I failed to make a note. Incidently, I will state that we began our inspection of the penitentiury ? Vunt'i! ilinimr I Midi fll|IVl IlllVlltlClll/ .livuio :n room. Here, by invitation of that | genial gentleman, we purtook of a j splendid breakfast, consisting of the j best that the season affords. Nearly J everything on the table was produced j inside the penitentiary walls, and I though prepared by convict cooks, I venture that no hotel in Columbia 1 would, in either quality or variety, ! surpass the spread. It must be ad' mitted, however, that it was a kind of extra occasion, as Superintendent I Neal was at the time entertaining several other guests besides Mr. Riggius ! and myself. After breakfast, in charge of E. C. Allen, captain of the guard, we began I a hurried round of the littlo town i within the penitentiary walls. The I first place visited was TIIK WOMEN'S KUILDING. This is a brick structure of considerable dimensions. Until recently, there ; were no windows except on the second floor, and only one flight of stairs connecting the two floors. Now, however, there are quite a number ol j grated windows on the first story, and I two flights of stairs. "This improvj raent," explained Captain Allen, "was i made by Superintendent Neal. As i soon as he came here he saw that a j fire was likely to break out on the first i floor at any time, and in such a ease I there could be no possible escape foi the poor creatures above. He explain, ed the matter to the board of directors, j and the change Mas made at once, all ; with convict labor. .Now, it a nrc should break out, the guard would sec it before it made any headway, and the convicts could be removed with comparative ease before the fire could j reach them." All the female convicts, except one ure colored. Those in the woman's building are kept busy sewing?making "stripes" for the convicts. A few male convicts work in the building in the daytime. One of them weaves | the "stripes" on an old fashioned loom ; , another?a white man?cuts the gari mcuts, and the women make them up, j doing a part of the work 011 sewing ! machines and the rest by hand. The : women?forty-three in number?are constantly under the eye of an old female trusty, and they ure not allowed to cease work even for a minute, Every breach of discipline is promptly reported to the captain of the guard, and severe punishment speedily follows. The women, however, I was i informed, are usually quite tractable, and do not get a great deal of punish, inent. THE MOTOR HOUSE. 1 Captain Allen next led the way to i the motor house. "We used to run 0111 > machinery with a big steam engine," ' explained Captain Allen, "but now we run it by electricity at a cost of comparatively nothing. When the canal was sold, the State reserved 500 horsepower for the use of the penitentiary, I Some time ago we leased this to the I Columbia Electric Street Car company, on condition that they would pay us a .1 - r ^r. .. Yw.i* .ltiniim re III III 1)1 C') 11 UUiairjiu wi;? f I'Vi UMM..U., and give us the use of 100 horsepower developed inside the walls. The only i expense we have been at was the puri chase of two electric motors?one of 25 and the other of 10 horsepower?and we got them on such easy terms that I we can easily pay for them with our ! w.iterpower rents before the payments I are due." i The larger of the two motors in use is estimated at 25 horse. Captain Al1 leu says it easily does the work of a 50 horsepower engine, and the only expense is wear and tear, which amounts to practically nothing. The motor runs all the machinery in the I carpenter, machine and blacksmith shops, and is not taxed to one-half of its capacity. THE MACHINE SHOPS. From the motor house we visited ilio intiphinc and earnenter shops. for it, and docs not require any watch- j itig. Among the curiosities of the machine shop is a small steam engine, made by one of the convicts at odd hours, for one of Superintendent Meal's j little boys. THK HOSIKRY MILL. The most important industry car- i ried on within the.penitentiary walls is the manufacture of hosiery. This is a private enterprise carried on by Mr. J. M. Graham, a South Carolina gentleman, who leases most of his labor from the State. In all, he employes 115 convicts and IS free laborers, who turn out finished and ready for market, j about 350 do/en pairs of socks a day. I The hosiery, of course, is made by | machinery, and the machines, which 1 appear to be quite complicated, are operated almost exclusively by convicts. To watch the convicts in this j department at work is very interesting, j and the energy and skill that many of mem nave ueveiopeu, is ruinurxuuiu. I watched some of the most skillful ' operatives for some minutes in astonishment, and finally asked Mr. Graham how he managed to get so much work out of them. Mr. Graham smiled and j looking at Captain Allen knowingly, j That gentleman also smiled, and re- j ! marked somewhat significantly: ".We have a 'leather house' over here on the j yard. I'll show it to you directly." J "But that is not altogether the rea, son," put in Mr. Graham. "I give each ! one of them a task which is purposely ! fixed so low that even the slowest of ! j them can make it by honest work, j Some arc naturally faster than others, j j and to these I oiler a bonus ofso much? J I one cent a do/en pairs?for all the ! hose they make over their task. Some ; of them make as high as twenty-five i or thirty cents a week, and arc in this j way enabled to keep themselves in i ' tobacco." "You see that little negro over there," j said Mr. Graham, pointing to a negro ; boy about 20 years of age. "He is one : of the fastest operatives in the mill. He j came here from Charleston, and when the captain asked him what trade he ! had been following, he appeared to be very much insulted. 'I, sir,' he said, j | 'am a gentleman of leisure.' " Captain : I Allen told him he thought he could be i taught something more useful, and ' | turned him over to me. At first he | did not seem to take much interest in I j his work, but after one or two experi- I i ences in the 'leather house,' he came ; to the conclusion that, after all, knitting , was pretty congenial employment. | Well, since that time, he has been ; going beyond his task every day, and j makes enough to buy all the to- , [ bacco he can chew. Detective Hogan, j of Charleston, was up hero sometime ! ago and called especially to see the 1 Negro work. He had been knowing 1 him all his life and he was astonished." i "THK LEATHER HOUSE." Across from the hosiery mill, and under the hospital, is the leather house. ; This is where the the refractory con! victs receive their discipline. The ma- | i chinery is quite simple. It consists of ; a wooden frame, so constructed as to provide a way of securing the hands and feet of the patient in such a manner as to hold him in the position of a boy ! giving a back for leap frog. Lying on the frame, for use when necessary, is a peculiar instrument constructed with a small piece of wood for a handle, and a leather strap, two inches wide, something less than a quarter of an j inch thick and about eighteen inches I long. The refractory convict is first ' placed in the frame to suit the notion ; of the operator, and the leather is ap- I plied as vigorously as the circumstances j j seem to require. Tim effects arc said ' to be quite wholesome, and it is very j seldom that two applications of leather- j j house medicine are required on the i same patient for the same offense. THE HATH HOUSE. , j Next door to the leather house, is j the bath house for the convicts. Un- ! derneath is a large basin, about two ! ' feet in depth, and overhead is an ar; rangement by which a heavy shower , I of water may be precipitated in the basin. Every Sunday the convicts ' are made to stand in this basin and | take a thorough bath. After the bath, ] each is provided with a clean change ! j of clothing, and all are kept scrupu' lously clean. In fact, in this conneci tiou it might be said that the whole ' j place is as clean as a new pin, ana | 1 nowhere about the premises are there j i any sickly or unpleasant odors. The ! sanitary conditions are simply perfect. THE PENITENTIARY FARM. But to go into further details will I take more space than can be spared. | I shall hurry to the penitentiary farm? I j the old DeSaussure place?on the I Three C's railroad, in Sumter county. | We took the train for Hagood's, the j | nearest station to the farm, and about j , ' fifty miles from Columbia, at half-past I [ ! 9 o'clock. The party consisted of Mr. j I i Itiggins, Captain J. \V. Lyles, another i member of the board of penitentiary L i directors, and myself. At Hagood's j j we were met by Major Thos. O. San- ; j ders, lessee of the farm, and his two j | i sons, Charles and Thos. O., Jr. By | j these gentlemen we were driven over j , : to the State Farm and landed at the 1 house of the sergeant of the convict . j guard. Here we were served with an , elegant dinner, and after a few hours' ! rest we were shown over the farm. HE WAS A PRINCE IN THE I.ANl). ' During the afternoon, from Major ! Sanders and others, I picked up some , i interesting points about what is now , the biggest of the several State farms, i ! This one was formerly owned by John j ' M. DeSaussure. He was a resident of | Camden, and in years gone by, was a I prince in the land. He owned between : seven and eight hundred Negroes and , thousands of acres of the richest lands 1 in the State. His best lands consisted ! j of about 3,000 acres lying on the i Wateree river. A considerable por- j tion of this, consisting of rich alluvial j soil, of indefinite depth, was subject ! | | to overllow. Being a civil engineer , | and possessed of abundant means, and ; all the labor that could be used, Mr. ' ; DeSaussure conceived the idea of | i...nf 1 Hon <\oro<z , l>ll till 111}; ill UU lilt ?l unut V/I *,vvv ?.v.v. , si high embankment, to keep out the river in times of freshet. The work i required several years, but in course ' of time it was completed?a big dam from ten to twenty feet in height and enclosing an immense basin of incomparable fertility. This work completed, Mr. DeSaussure went in for big crops. 1 It is said of him that he used to pay | his overseer $1,000 a year as a regular ; salary, and give him a bonus of $">00 conditional on the raising of 30,000 bushels of corn. The overseer got j the bonus on an average of about four i years out of live. The annual cotton ; crop ranged between 800 and 1,000 j bales. The plantation was usually stocked with 1">0 head of mules and horses, j i 2o0 head of cattle, ">00 head of sheep, 1 and each year the number of hogs killed numbered more than T>00. Mr. I DeSaussure, it is said, would sell noth- i . ing off his place except cotton. Corn he would sometimes lend to his neighbors on condition that they should pay it back, bushel for bushel, and hams, J i he would swap for side-meat one pound 1 for two, but to sell either corn or meat 1 was strictly against his ideas of successful farming, and he would not do it. 1 On the other hand, the possibility of | ever having to buy either corn or J meat, was the great bugbear of his : life. lie is remembered, however, by all j | of his neighbors as a great and good - 5 ? 4>.~ a man, aim many ui inu uiu?_-i v,m/.v...o of the neighborhood' look back with | pleasant memories at the time when old 111:111 I (ctSaussure flourished as tne "Prince of the Waterce." ItriNKI) 15Y TIIK WAH. As the result of the war, the big plantation went to destruction. The DeSaussures did not have the money with which to continue the cultivation, most of the slaves refused to work any more, and things rapidly went to destruction. After a while the big dams broke in places, the rich basin was again overrun by freshets, a new growth of timber came on, and a few years ago the once productive plain was again a wild jungle?the home of the deer, the wild cat and great (locks of wild turkeys. vr i? vow uvivc HKrr.AiMki>. This was the condition of the old DeSaussure place up to two or three years ago. Familiar with it in the days of its former glory, and recognizing that it was too big a thing to again be utilized by private enterprise, especially under present conditions of labor, Major Thos. O. Sanders, at the time a penitentiary director, conceived the idea of purchasing the old plantation for the State and working it by means of convict labor. The idea was carried out, and, if I am correctly informed, the purchase price was about $25,000. Feeling responsible in a large measure for the success of the venture, Maj. Sanders volunteered a proposition by which he agreed to lease the plantation on terms very advantageous to the State, if not to himself. As I understand it, the State furnishes guards, and feeds and clothes three convicts to every mule furnished by Major Sanders. Major Sanders agrees to pay the State 7 per cent, interest on the purchase price of the land, and give the State one half of all the crops raised. As to whether or not there are any fertilizer bills, and if there are any who pays them, I have no information. Last year, however, there was lots of clearing to do, the old dams had to be repaired and enlarged in many places, and there was so much other extra work of different kinds to be done, that Major Sanders lost money, although the State came out considerably ahead. This year, however, the outlook for the major is better. He is working fortv mules and 110 convicts, and has the crops set about as follows : Cotton 800 acres, corn 400 acres, peas 100 acres, garden vegetables and small truck of different kinds, perhaps 25 acres. Most of the cotton is from knee to waist high and looks fine. The corn is all that could be expected under almost any circumstances. The stalks seem to average more than ten feet in height, tho stand is good, and the ears are plentiful. Barring future accidents, the probability of which do not seem to be very great, the yield on the 400 acres will not be much less than 10,000 bushels. HOW THE CONVICTS ARE WORKED. The convicts of the farm nre worked in details of fifteen men each, and each detail is in charge of one guard. Tho various details are divided out as desired, and some are worked at the plow and others at the hoe. Tho guards, who are armed with Springfield rifles, follow at a convenent distance and always keep a sharp eye for a break. An overseer follows along among the various details, to see that they do their work properly. He carries in his hand a leather strap, and with this he touches up such as are disposed to "soldier" or cut up the cotton or corn. It was my observation, however, that the overseer rarely had occasion to strike. AN ESCAPE. Somewhat before sundown, us our party was returning from an inspection of the dams on the river and the fine fields of corn in the bottoms, we passed a big cotton field in which about fifty convicts were hoeing cotton. One of the convicts came running to ward us at full speed. When he came up, out of breath, he told Major Sanders : "Dat man Joe Smith, done runued away, and Mr. Kelly want you go to house and git daug." "When did he go'?" asked Major Sanders. "Right now. He done bruck away trough de corn ober dat way," pointing with his finger. "Did the guard shoot at him '?" "Yes, sir; him shoot twice but no hit him. He done gone; Mr. Kelly want de daug." Mr. T. O. Sanders, Jr., and myself, drove rapidly to the stockade, something over a mile away. On the road we found several "trusty" convicts who had been posted at different places to look after the negro. When we reached the stockade, we found the news had preceded us and all was commotiou. The sergeant of the guard had mounted a horse and galloped down into the swamp, followed by a blood hound, and half a dozen trustys were looking high and low for another dog that had also been trained to trail convicts. Finally, the dog was found and several "trustys," picking up guns, started for the swamp. The hunt was continued for perhaps two hours, but without success. The dogs trailed the negro a few hundred yards into an adjoining pasture and then lost him. Next morning a fine mule beATr f'Viorlna Snndprs wns - ? ? missing, and the commonly acepted theory was that it had been ridden oil' by the convict. THE STOCKADE. At night the convicts all sleep in a frame building about thirty feet wide by sixty long. They are locked up securely, and a "trusty" convict, who sleeps just at the entrance to the building, acts as guard. Another trusty, a Negro sentenced from Charleston county for manslaughter, performs the duty of night watchman. Quite a number of the convicts are practically allowed the freedom of the plantation, and one of them?a white man named Talbert?who is serving a seven years sentence for manslaughter, carries the keys of the commissary, performs the general duties of a clerk, excepting that he gets no pay, is compelled to wear stripes, ami is not allowed to go oil' the plantation. He has about as easy a time as any of the ollicers or guards. All of the convicts, however, seem to be very well treated indeed, and if their lot is especially hard, from my limited observation, I venture to say that they alone are responsible for it. I not only saw no signs of ill treatment, but every indication that all the convicts arc accorded all the privileges to which they could possibly be entitled. fitoT It is a serious matter in Armenia should a maiden attain her seventeenth year with no prospect of marriage, for when the festival of St. Sergius comes round she is obliged to fast three days and cat salt fish without quenching her thirst unless some kind swain premises to take her. flSF" The president of Vale college, who is required to know a little of everything, has a salary of $5000 a year. The chief cook in the Waldorf Hotel, in New York city, who knows only one thing well, gets $10,000 a year. Betr In silver money trance sianus at the head of all nations in the per capita amount?$18 per inhabitant. Holland is second with $14, the Tinted States is third with $8. Germany has $4.'Jo, Great Hritain has $2.7"). fife#* Women lose a good deal of time before a looking-glass, but men lose tenfold more before the social glass.