University of South Carolina Libraries
An Independent Family Journal?-Devoted to Politics, Literature and General Intelligence; HOTT & CO., Proprietors. ANDERSON, S. 0, THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1869. VOLUME 5.---N0. 4. WSW I WAS WdM. . I am the only daughter of Orlando Paggins, of Fizzleton, retail dealer in dry goods. My father is a very promi? nent man in town, and I am belle of the Village. I think I have very good rea? sons for nailing myself handsome, for not .less than a score of young men of roy ?acquaintance have assured mo such is the fact. I have no reason to doubt the words of these ver}r amiable young men, for I think I should have been convinced of my beauty even if they had not whis? pered it in my ear. My father's hobby had been for several years to make a good match for me. Per? haps you know what a good match is ? It is simply to marry a man you posi? tively hate; a man who is excessively ugly and disagreeable?in short, a fool? beoause ho is wealthy. If he has money, it makes no difference what is his charac? ter; it is what the world calls a gocd match. My father thought just what the *est of the world did; and often have I heard him E.ay that Beatrice should ride in her own carriage some day. That was the highest idea of happiness. Per? haps it is needless to say that my father and I differed very much on this point. I think I had imbibed what the gene? rality ol people will call rather romantic notions. Can you believe it, that the belle of Fizzleton, at the age of twenty two, imagined that there was such a pas eion as love? I longed for something more than a poodle dog to lavish my af? fections upon. I know it is very un* maidenly for me to say this, but it is true, t had plenty of lovers, to be sure; but, ugh ! I preferred the poodle to them My hero had not yet arrived. I knew he would come some time. Perhaps he would come in a ragged coat; but the coat doesn't make the man, you know?al though it does make a groat many of | those things that call themselves men. Meanwhile my father brought a lover to me ?a Mr. Cattle from Boston. He ?was doing a large business there, and was considered wealthy. "There's a lover worthy of you, Bea? trice," said my father, after Mr. Cattle had made his first call. "His riches can hardly be counted/' "I am sure his ago cannot," I replied. "He is certainly twice as old as I." ?Well V ttI think that is enough." My father opened his eyes with aston- j ishment. "Do you mean to say that you would not marry him if you had the chance V* "Yes, that's what I mean." "Bless my soul!" cried ray father; "are j yon. sane V* j "Perfectly." 1 Father looked incredulous. "You read too much poetry, child. You I ?re a woman now, and it is high time for yon to banish those sentimental ideas from your silly head. Such an opportu? nity as this does not come but once in a woman's lifetime." "I should hope not" Father stamped bis feet with rago a:*d jooked unutterable things. I took Lai a \ Jtookh and began reading the Fire wor? shippers. "Beatrice, do you wish to bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave V* "fro; bdt I have to live with my hus? band through life, and I would, much rath? er havo one of my own choosing." "Yes, yes, my child; but I have lived longer than you, and I think my judg? ment is better. I don't want you to mar? ry some scoundrel without a cent in his pocket, and have you to wear your life out as his drudge. As the wife of Mr. Cattle you will lead a life of luxury and ease." "A life of misery I" My father looked grieved, but said no more, and soon after left the room. Such is the perversity of femalo human nature that I think if that scoundrel "without a cent had proposed just at that moment, I should have accepted him at once. \L believe women aro like the Irishman's pig. He wished to drive the pig to Dublin ; bra he made him think he wished him to go in an opposite direc? tion. Consequently the pig was bound to Dablin and to Dublin ho went. Mr. Cattle nevor called again. I think father put a flea in his ear, for ho saw plainly that I was not to be driven into a union with a man I did not like. About this time father hired a new clerk. He was rather good looking, and all my lady friends voted him a proper, nice young mac. I presume he was what father called that scoundrel without a cent in his pocket. To bo sure ho was dressed elegantly; but I haven't the slightest idea that the coat he wore on his back was paid for; but what of that ? Wasn't ho agreeable ? Couldn't he whis? per soft nonsense for an entire evening ? Hadn't ho all the poetry of the affec? tions by heart ? Then he wrote about love and moonshine in splondid rhymes upon scented paper, and he gave those effusions to me. I almost- thought I loved him; and I am sure he loved me, for he told me so. 1 had it all written out in black and white, in the most ele? gant verso I ever read. Father tried to keep cool through all this, but it was terriblo hard work for to do so. Once I heard him tell mother that if I was bound to go to the deuce, he didn't know as ho could help it. "It's only a flirtation," mother said. "Flirtation, indeed! I tell you she's bewitched alter him," my father said. And then he added : "Well, it it) not quite as bad as might ho. Torsoldorf isn't a bad young man; ol course ho basd't got a cent, but if they are bound to marry, I'll do what I can for him, and possibly he may make something yet." My ardor cooled at once. There was not opposition enough to feed the flame; and consequently my love died out. That evening Mr. Torsoldof called. I received him coolly. He noticed it, and exerted himself to bo agreeablo, but it was a sig? nal failure I never smiled once while he remained. When he arose to depart, I followed him to the door and informed him, as gently as I could, his company could be dispensed with. "What has happened, Beatrice ?" he asked. "Nothing.'' i "You do not love me ?" "You are good at guessing, Mr. Tor seldorf," I answered, smiling for the first time that evening. "Heartless 1" he muttered. "Ob, no; bat I should be had I given my heart to you." Mr. Torseldorf jammed his hat over his eyes and departed. I never saw him after. I noticed a change in my father's manner immediately after. I saw that his hopes bad revived. Ho treated me in the most affectionate manner, and for some time all went well. But when eve? rything seems to bo going on well with you, you may be sure something is going to happen. I have always found it so. It was at Mrs. Tremain's soiree that I met Aminidab Fagge. Mr. Fagge was a very common looking mortal. He had red hair, gray eyes, a fire-red moustache, a broken nose, and a variegated skin. He was six feet in length and three inch? es in thickness. When he walked you expected him to fall to pieces every min? ute. I don't think ho was properly put together; he squinted dreadfully, and bis voice squeaked. I presume no one would call Aminidab Fagge a handsome man. I knew soon as my eyes fell upon him that he, for one, had never been spoiled by flattery. For reasons that you doubtless under? stand, none of the young ladies at Mrs. Tremain's took the slightest notice of Mr. Faggo. For that very reason I en? tered into conversation with him, and found that he wasn't a fool, and that is saying considerable. I even danced with him once. I was not anxious to try it again. I never danced with a pair of curs, but I think I can now. Mr. Fagge asked permission to call up? on mo, and I replied that I should be hap? py to see him at any time. Tho next day he made his appearance. Father looked at him in astonishment. I proceeded to make the gentlemen ac? quainted. "Dear father, this is Mr. Aminidab Fagge?Mr. Fagge, my father." Father bowed, muttered something liko Fagge?rag?shag, and left the room. I explained to Mr. Faggo that my fath? er was eccentric, and wo then fell into conversation. I believe I remarked be? fore that Mr. Fagge was not a fool. On the contrary, he had the largest assort j ment of general information in bis head j of any person I ever mot. He had a fresh, original way of expressing himself, j too, that was quite charming to me. I found myself becoming quite interested jin him in spite of myself, and at last ji when he arose to go I pressed htm to call again. He promised to, but as I saw him going down the steps I felt that he never would, for it did not seem possible he could ever reach home without breaking bis neck. He seemed to be walking on stilts, and one would have thought this his first attempt. While I was watching him, father re? turned to the parlor. "Do you know who that is, Beatrice?" be asked: " Certainly, that is Mr. Aminidab Fagge," I replied. "Fudge ! I know that. But wh?it is he ?" "Oh ! well really, father, I don't know. Possibly he is a perambulating tin mer? chant." I half expected father would go into convulsions; but he didn't, though?he seemed very much exeited. At last ho calmed himself enough to ask what Anin idab had called for. "To see mo, I suppose. He didn't ask for any one olso. I made his acquaint? ance last night at Mrs. Tremain's." Father bogan to boil again. "He's nothing but a poor miserable fortune-hunter, and if ho comes here ?gain I will kick him out of tho house." "Don't father; it might hurt him." "Beatrice," in a voice of thunder, "go to your room." 1 mado my exit. The paternal Pug gins, when he gets excited, will be obey? ed. I retired to my room. Was thoro not some romance in this ? I enjoyed it highly. Thorc was everything in it to make it interesting to a young lady of my temperature. There was the stern and cruel paront, tho poor but noble lov? er, and myself. I felt that my horo had arrived. Tbe love for which I had been waiting so long had at last arrived in tho person of Aminidab. "Honible," you exclaim. Oh, no ! the ugliest person in the world, when seen through a lover's eyes, will look lovely. Mr. Fagge bogan to grow beautiful in my eyes from the moment that father threatened to kick h;m from the door. He called the next day while father was out. I received him in the parlor. I t<s>ld him, as gently as I could, that fath? er had concoived a dislike for him. ''Impossible," said Mr. Faggo. "Not at all. He said lie would aid you in making your exit from our door if he caught you hero again." "I think I had better retire," said ho, "Oh, no! father is never home at this hour." "But this is dishonorablo." I "Wo can't help dislikes you know, Mr. Fagge," I said, with my most bewitching smile. "You called to see me, I believe ; I am of age, and I shall be happy to see yon at any time when you please to call." An angolic smile lighted up his coun? tenance, and to me he seemed really beautiful. When we parted at the door he pressed my hand slightly. Oh I it was so sweet. After that, Mr. Fagge and 1 were to? gether almost every day for a fortnight. Luckily my father was not aware of this. I did not suppose he would ever put his threat into execution ; but still, had he found us together, ho might have made use of some rather harsh words, and they might have caused an unpleasantness. But I felt this could not always last.? There would be an explosion some day. It came rather sooner than I expected. Mr. Fagge and I were togethor. We had been talking as usual, nearly half an hour, when he turned suddenly to me and said: "Beatrice, there is something that I have been wishing to tell you some time." "Indeed !" I gave him a glorious smile. "What can it be." "Beatrice,"?1 knew by the way his moustache bristled up what wes coming? "I love you." "Is that all r "Is not that enough ?" '?Why I thought by the expression of your countenance that it was something more serious." "It will be serious enough for. me, un? less you teil me that my love is return? ed," he said, throwing himself on bis knees before me. "Indeed," I was wondering how he was ever going to get up. That was a very serious consideration. "Can you loye me?" 1 did not feel quite certain about that; in fact, I think that I was as much in doubt about the state of my heart as Mr. Fagge was. "Will you haye mo, darling ?" The next instant Mr. Fagge gave a yell of pain that penetrated ray soul. With a hurried glance I took in the whole situation. Father had arrived, and was now putting^his threat into execu? tion. Mr. Fagge made no resistance, but allowed my father to lead him to the door. My blood boiled. I sprang to? ward them, and grasped Mr. Fagge around the neck. '?My dear Aminidab." I cried, "I do love you?indeed I do. You shall not take him, father. He is mine, mine; my bolovcd Aminidab!" "Beatrice!" shouted father. "No, father, you shall not part us." "Beatrice, will you not obey me ?" "In all but this. But you can never tear us asunder?no, never," and I clung tighter to the beloved of my soul. Fath? er sank into a chair, seemingly quite overcome. 1 waited for hiim to speak. "Mr. Fagge, take a seat,'' at length he said. "Beatrice," turning to mo, -'do you mean to marry this manr" "Yes, sir." "Enough !" father smiled. "Beatrice, allow me to introduce you to the Hon. Walter Stillfieet, of C-, one of the wealthiest men in the city, and my par? ticular friend." I turned toward Aminidab. He was just removing a wig from bis glossy black curls, and in his hands held a fiery red moustache. /With a cry of joy I sprang into his arms. "Will you love me as well as you did, Beatrice ?" he asked. "Yes," I murmured. He kissed me. "There is only one way to manage a headstrong girl, Mrs. Puggins," father said, as my mother entered the room. We all laughed heartily. "You played your part well, father," I said. "Well, the rest remainu for you and him." All this happoned some months ago. We are married now, but; I never re? gretted my father's ruse. A Ghastly Joke.?A ghastly joke is reported from Now Orloans: A young doctor of that city paid hia addresses to a lady, who, among other curiositios in her parlor, had a human skull, to which the physician took a wonderful fancy and repoatodly solicited her for it. Some mornings since, he was agreeably sur? prised by receiving from bid young lady friend a boautiful looking pudding, with her compliments. He sent it at once to his room mate, an apothecary, with in? structions to have it for dinner that day. A friend dropping in at meal-time was invited to dine, and accepted, in conside? ration of the fine pudding which was promised. After the meat dinner the pudding?which appeared a very chef (V a>uvrc?was brought on, and the trio uni tod in praise of its excellence. Indeed, they one and all asserted that there was a peculiarly agreeable flavor about it, which ono thought lemon, anothor vanil? la. The doctor insisted on replenishing the saucers of his friends, and was about to help himself a second time, when ho struck with the knife a hard substance. Pushing bis explorations further, he fish od up, to his horror, a grinning skull, the very skull he bad so often vainly impor? tuned his lady friend to givo him. That dinner party adjourned with wondorfnl rapidity, and with frightful exclamations. ? On a certain occasion, "Damon and Pythias" was being played at a theater in Washington. In the last act, as Da? mon was about to be led to execution, straining his eyes in the effort to discern his f'riond in the distance, and asking, "Is ho coming?" a locomotive whistle sound? ed close by. "He'll bo here in the next train," shouted a wag. and in an instant the emotion was changed to laughter. The Result in Virginia and its Effect Will Grant Adopt a Conservative Pol? icy? The Washington correspondent of the Baltimore Gazette writes i The objects accomplished by the result of the elections in Virginia, however im? portant, excite secondary interest here when compared to the evidence thisgreat political revolution furnishes of a previous wholesome change of public sentiment everywhere. It is well known that the primary purpose of the Radical party of making the negro, politically and socially, supreme at the South, and politically and socially equal at the North, was begin? ning %o "stink in the nostrils" of all decent men. The manifest design of forcing the negro into the trades unions (or to break them up,) helped amazingly to open the eyes of the rank and file in the Northern workshops. The adoption of the Fif? teenth amendment by packed Radical Legislatures, without permitting the peo? ple they pretended to represent to have any voice in the matter, aided, and the utter failure of the new administration to respond to the general desire for the real pacification of the country completed the disgust of the people. The sweeping de? feat of the Radicals in Virginia is but a reflex of this general disgust, of which decisive evidence may be expected in the fall elections. ? General Grant has it yet in his power to retrieve the error into which he fell at the beginning of his administration, and I am informed he is aware of tho absolute necessity of discarding the advice of the men by whom ho has heretofore been guided. The people (however befogged for a time) will never deliberately sanc? tion the impracticable and revolting theo? ries of Sumner's faction whon attempted to be reduced to practice. The time has happily at last come when, backed by the people, he may assumo a conservative po? sition without danger of even the anathe? mas of the extremes of his party. In such a course he will be sustained by the nation at large, and may laugh to scorn the faction that will bo left in the opposi? tion gutter. mississippi. ? Tho action of the Cabinet on Friday in relation to the Mississippi election, is significant in several respects. It is thus virtually conceded that the Conservatives will triumph in tho other States, and that the effect of these victories on tho fall elections in the North is dreadod. Hence the postponement of the Mississippi elec? tion until November. The President had decided on a mueh cnHier day for tho election in Texas ai... Mississippi, but he has been overruled by these extremists. tennessee. What of the contest in Tennessee? Stokes has boen, up to tho present timo, the candidate of the President. In his interest have Boutwell, Creswoll and De? lano made appointments and removals. But the moral woight of the Virginia election promises to overwhelm these par? tisan influences and to securo tho election of Senter. Tho Provident is disposed to throw Stokes overboard, and it is donbt ful if even Boutwell can save him. There is really very littlo to chooso between Stokes and Senter. If it had any choice at all, the Democratic party would have nothing to do with either of them. Of the two evils, however, Sonter is consid? ered the least. Beautiful Words.?The following ex? tract is from an address delivered before the graduating class of Gen. Lee's Col? lege by Rev. Dr. Holland, formerly of Kentucky. His word-painting is not ex? celled by anything we have seen for many years, while his reference to Virginia and Stonewall Jackson will enhance the ap? preciation of this beautiful extract: Where, if not here, may ono feel, in ex? patiating upon nobleness of character, that tho theme is in echoing accord with the spirit of the place. Wo are near the frave of a martyr chieftain, whoso namo need not mention in tho village which his memory, liko precious spikenard pour? ed out of the rudely broken alabaster box of puro life, has anointed with per? fumes that breathe of Paradiso. VVc aro on tho hallowed soil of a State which, for the illustrious dead that sleep bene?th its cloud-fretted roof, seems nature's own Westminster Abbey. Its valloys, liko al coved aisles, arc hung to fancy's eye with battle scenes that depict the sacrifice of self for principle. Its mountains, like me? morial pillars, record the pureheartedness of horoes who, in the path ofduty, march? ed up to death as to a friond, and took from bis outstretched hand the victor's wreathes of immortality. Under its sod, as in sacred crypts, repose tho dust of an army whose remembered deeds of patri? otic valor make us proud, oven amid all the corruptions which dograde our race, that wo, too, are men. From its wind? swept forests, as from tho pipes of a grand cathedral organ, rolls a ceaseless roquiom for the fallen, which ever and anon swells with swiftor timo into a mar? tial strain that bids the living emulate their virtuos. Here, the?, as in a quiet chapel of this grand old State Basilica? where to study excellence of manhood is to hold intercourse with the spirit of its best oxample?so order the steps of your ambition, that when, in pursuing its ce? lestial end, you depart from the timc shoro of life it may bo but to join tho glorified band of soldiers for the true and right"who have already crossed over tho river and, with Jackson, aro resting in tho shade of the trees. ? "Is that clock right over there?" ask? ed a visitor. "Right over there ? Certain? ly ; 'tain't nowhere else." The Struggle in Tennessee. Tho Tennessee election takes place Au? gust 5th, and it is well that the day is so near at hand, for the relations of the gubernatorial candidates have now got to the fighting point. It is evident that they will have to stop stumping the State. It was hard enough for each of them to tolerate the verbal onslaughts of the other; but when tbey fall to with fists and bowie knives, it will be impossible for the peo? ple to refrain from joining in. The Knox ville Press and Herald gives the following account of a recent "joint discussion" be? tween the rival candidates on the stump, and their behavior towards each other: During Gov. Senter's closing remarks at Clinton, he was a "circumstance" more severe and scathing in his denunciation of Stokes than in any previous speech. The "General's" military record was Used pretty much in the way that boys use a bladder, which is puffed out and swelled by the wind it confines within itself. Governor Senter used it as a foot-ball, threw it around among the bystanders,' ?nd finally took it between his hands, and bringing them sharply together, burst it. When the "bald eagle" rose to reply, he fairly trembled with anger and shame. Raising his long finger and pointing it towards Governor Senter he said : "Fellow Citiizens?I have a wife and children whom I should greatly dislike to part from. Yet I tell Governor Senter I will hold him personally responsible, after the election, for what be has said to-day. If he considers himself a gentleman, I challenge him to meet me after the elec? tion, as a gentleman, and we will then see who is the coward and who the man. I denounce Senter as a liar, and I am ready to meet him any time after the election." Governor Senter, who was sitting im? mediately in the rear of Stokes, coolly arose and informed Stokes that he was ready to meet him now, or at any time agreeable to him (Stokes) previous to the election, but would prefer to settle the difficulty without delay. He, therefore, invited Stokes to step out on the field in the rear of the stand and Obtain satisfac? tion. Stokes replied that he would settle the affair after the election. Both speakers then intimated that the discussion was closed for the day. Senter slapped Stokes on the shoulder and re? marked, quietly, that he preferred to give him satisfaction without delay. Stokes then replied that he did not mean anything serious, but desired Sen? ter to understand his desire for a fight as expressed in a Pickwickian sense. The affair would doubtless have resul? ted seriously if Stokes had not been desti? tute of courage. A correspondent thus describes the two candidates for Governor of Tennessee: The contrast between the two is very marked. Senter is young, between thirty fivo and six, a little above medium height, broad, and rather inclined to be portly; black hair and beard, and full and florid faco which tells of a lovo for the good things of the world. No anchorite, evi? dently. Though comparatively a young man, h o has had much political experience, having been in public life almost con? stantly since he was twenty-one years of age. Stokes, on the contrary, is tbin and spare, slight figure, a little stooped, bald crown, smooth and colorless face; beak like nose, and general contour both of face and figure, which at times seems decided? ly bird-like, and recalls forcibly the famil? iar soubriquet (the "bald eagle of the mountains") by which he has been so widely known in this canvass. Mb. George Peabody and his Second Gift to the South.?The New Bedford Mercury, of July 7th, says Mr. George Peabody's socond gift to promote educa? tion in the Soutnern States is even great? er than it had stated it to be, and adds: Besides the valuable stocks, worth more than a million of dollars, he adds ?384,000 in Florida bonds, which will ultimately be paid, and will swell the amount of his gifts to this one object to nearly $4,000, 000. The letter to the trustoos, advising them of this new gift, was written by Mr. Peabody himself, and shows the clearness and vigor of his intellect, notwithstand? ing the fact that he is suffering irora a discaso of a serious naturo, painful and prostrating, and which, he is conscious, must before long terminate his life. This interview between tho great philanthro? pist, lying upon his sick bed and the dis? tinguished gentlemen who have so wisely administered his magnificent charity, was an exceedingly affecting one. A description of it, and particularly of Mr. Peabody's remarks, not only in re? gard to tho oducational scheme and what he expects to result from it, but in rela? tion to the war, would intensify the pub? lic regard for him, not only as one of tho greatest of benefactors, but as one of the purost of patriots?never for a moment faltering in his allegiance to the govern? ment, though never forgetting that the North and South constitute one country, lie will not live to see the full fruits of his noble charity. But the great banker, in his best days, never embarked in a scheme more certain of success or prom? ising more magnificent returns. His edu? cational fund is accomplishing and will consummate what changes of the consti? tution could never effect, tho existence of real and abiding harmony between the North and the South. Mr. Peabody. we learn, designs to ad? minister upon his own ostste. Death will find him possessed of only means sufficient for a becoming burial. He will leave nothing for heirs to quarrol about. His vast estate will not be tied up in chancery, at the instigation of some ava? ricious heir at law, to the sore disappoint? ment and suffering of needy beneficiaries. He will finish his good work. From the El Paso (111.) Journal. Onslaught on a Country Editor in Illinois ?He has a Prolonged Debate on the Wo? man Question. I was sittin' in my office; sbeculatin' in my own mind whether on the whole it wouldn't be best for to give myself away for the benefit of my family, when there comes a knock at the door. There, says I, is some one anxious to subscribe for the El Paso Journal, so I uttered in a loud voice "Come in/' She was dressed in a pair of store boots and an iron gray set of spectacles, anc( sho walked up to me with majesty in her mien. I knew who it was the minute I I set my eyes on her. It was a woman. I gracefully aros? and said, "How are you, maam; was you wisnin' to subscribe to the El Paso Journal ?" at the same time dippin' my pen in the ink and openin' my subscription book. This al ways frets 'em. It looks like buziness. It didn't get her. She fixed her glassy eyes On me and said : "Young man, are yew an advocate for the holy caws Of woman's rights ?" "No maam," said I, "I am a Presbyte? rian;" "Air you," she said, "prepared to em1 bark with us over the sea with equal suf? frage ?" "Maafn," said I, "I haintgot no objec? tion to takin a quiet sail with you provi? ded the boat ain't leaky and you'll do the rowin.", A smile persued hor features for- a mo? ment, and then sho. said, "1 am willin' to suffer for tho caws." . "Yes," said Ij in a polite and softeniri' manner. "It'll only cost two dollars, an1 j we'll send it to any address lor an entire year." , "Hev you a wife ?" she asked; ? "I hev," said I, wonderin' what she was comin' at. "So th'at you see I couldn't marry you ef I wanted to ever so much." 1 threw this in as a soother. "Air you willin' that she should share with you the burdens and trials of life ?" "I ain't noways perticklar," said I, "an' I'll let her shoulder the whole of 'em if she has a hankerin' that way ?" "Wood you consent that she should go* to the poles ?" said she. "She can go' where she pleases," said I, "Sho ginerally du?."' . "Yew air a hole souled man," said she,1 ahd.tbroin her arms around my neck, left wildly." j "Git out," said I, "what air you up to ? I ain't one of them men. Stop." After much labor I succeeded, in un? loosening her hold and sit down on a chair. I judged from her conduct that she stood in need of a few moral observations. "Yoo air an infpulsive femail," said I: "Yobr nature is at once spontaneous and outbreaking. You need a pair ofiriar tmgails. Consider what would be your state ef a man's wife was to catch you huggin' him in this style." She wiped her face with her dress.?1 She had on a dress. I forgot to mention this fact in speaking of her spectacles. ''1 am a worker in the caws of Woman's Eights." "Yes," said I, "you aif; Yoo ought to be ashamed of yourself. I should judge yoo was one of them lobby womeh that the Chicago Tribune correspondent {ells of. But you can't come your nefarious arts over me. I'm sealed against 'em." "I should be pleased," she said, "to go arm in arm with you to tho poles?' "No you don't" said I, in alarm; "not ef I have anything to say in the matten I won't go with yoo?not a single darned pole." "Ytfuhg man," said She,- "hast thou any children ?'' "I hev," said I, "seven of em. Can y?ti show as good a record ?" "Wood you," said she, "hav your girls grow up and be married to base, sordid men who would take away thoir political rites and allow 'em no franchises ?" "Durn the franchises," says I, in a rage; "they are the things that women put on bebind to give tbem the Grecian bend. Ef my daughters over go to wearin 'em? "No, no," said she", "they are panniers." "Well," said I, "panniers or franchises^ or whatever yoc^call 'em, I am opposed to 'em. Thoy are onnatural and humpty. Thoy degrade the human form into like? ness of a camel, and bring lovely women! down on al! fours like a cat." "Then," said she, "come with me,, and we will emancipate women from tho sla? very of dress." "No," said I, with severity, "I hev no wish to take the close away from any woman. Wimmin without close would be a sad spectacle, particularly in winter,' . when the howling blasts prevail. Wbd ? are you, any way ?" I asked of my visi-" tor. "I am a pilgrim," sho said. "I belong to the Agitator, a noospapcr devoted to the caws of femail suffrage in Chicago." "Well," said I calmly, "the Wimmen iri Chicago need something of this sort: Where them that air married never no on goin' to bed at night but what on wakin up in the mornin' they may be divorced; and them that ain't married spend theif time in bettin' how many times they can bo married and divorced within a month. The wimmln of Chicago need agitatin' powerfully. Keep a stirrin' on 'em up, if you please. The more you agitate, the better for em." With these words I arose, and telliri her to set still until ray return, I stole I solftly down stairs. I have not boen bacK I since. What will be the effect of leavin' a femail agitator sittin' in my seat the whole of this time, I know not, but if she waits until I go back her patience will be of cast iron. -? ?A stupid exquisite, at a wedding, wish* ed the bride "many happy returns of the occasion."