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?cor. ?' Lucille'a Mistake Tho visit over; bidding hor adiou, I took toy hatband bowing low, withdrew. Then^. starting homowaru soon I missed my cano, " \ Retraced my stops and rang the bell again. I heard a rush?tho door flow opon wido= And with a bound Lucille was at my side. Around my neck her lovely arm's she threw. Kissed mo, yo Gods, kissed, mo through and through. Stock still I stood, not daring to return Tho glowing kisses .that my Bps did burn. I tri od to speak, and gasped, I clean forgot? I left my cane." She started as if shot, .And cried, with bods she vainly tried to smother, "Oh, deai ! Oh, dearl I thought 'twas Dan, my brother. ? What'shall I do?" she asked mo o'er and o'er. I lacked the courage to say "Do it more!" - So looking sheepish, seized upon my stick, And forthwith homeward trotted double-quick. When on my couch I vainlyeourted sleep, I tossed?and pondered, "What wealth of lovo-| V That girl possesses, other girls above! And if a "brother she should hold so dear, What must a husband to her heart appear?" Tho idea grew ; and*--woIL ?o end tho tale, ~ L sought her often, and to such avail, - j> That ere a twelve month its mil course had run j ' I woo'd, I won her-?and we twain are one; And once I told her "that my love began - -The night she kissed me in mistake for Dan." c*FOr Dan!" said she; "why bless your stupid Poor Lather Dan was safo and snug in bed." ??You didnt know it I" "Why of course I did." ? And in my breast her blushing face she hid. Through all these years I did not onco regret My having fallen in the trap she set. Happy am I, and happy, too, I'yo mado her, Although at.times I laughingly upbraid her; And then she says, "Tho moral, dear, of this is, That girls don't often make mistakes in kisses !" A FATAL MISTAKE. There dwelt in California, some years ago.' three friends, wild fellows enough, who had seemingly linked their fortunes for better or J for worse, and who, whatever their lack, were constantly in each other's company. . These young men were Charles Chester, Harry Bray ana Edward Warren. They were :-nibre brotherly than many brothere, more akin than mtary kinsmen. True to each other even when women and-money were between them. "Damon and Pythias, with a twin Pythias add? ed. For along time they had been very poor; at. last fortune favored them. Each hail a cer? tain sura, by no means contemptible, stowed ? away in the leathern belt he wore about his ;waist. Each carried a gold watch, and each - wore a suit of clothes supposed by himself to be the latest stylo and choicest fashion. More? over, their revolvers were perfect, silver-mount? ed, and rejoicing in a multiplicity of barrels; for, without these it would be quite impossible to maintain a position in this quarter of the world in any society. -. Sow they camo by .these possessions we will -not- inquire too particularly. They were nei? ther burglars nor highwaymen, but dice and r betting may have helped them to tho winning ' of their little fortunes. They were not. over? scrupulous; but they w?md have knocked down any. man who had neglected to address them a* gentlemen, and used those wonderful revolvem promptly on Any. '^stranger" who ob? jected to drinking with them, and, consequent I ly, stood raiher high in tho community. Cer? tainly, in their conduct to each other they! were faultlessly honorable and miraculously genoroufi : One day, soon after "luck7' hacl come to its rest,-a letter, directed in a woman's tremulous band, to "Claries Chester,".was handed to thai member of the trio, in the presence of the other twc. The young follow seized it eagerly, tore it open, read it through, and, tearing off] bis belt, sprijad its contents before him upon . the table, find counted it over. Having dene so, he burst into tears, and very unwisely and profanely cursed himself for extravagance, all - sorts of uncomfortable things here and hereaf? ter, a proceeding whicii seems to relieve some men considerably, though why, it would puzzle the unenlightened to declare. The cause of all this, as his comrades soon discovered, was that his mother had written to him from her little "farm in a Southern "State to tell him a doleful tale of sickness, death among the stock, etc., and a final crash. A mortgage was almost due, and, as the old people would find it impossible to meet it, they would be sold out and left homeless in their old age. "It will kill your father," wrote the mother, "and I will die with him." "I did it all/' said the young fellow, sobbing openly. "My debts and my wild ways in cum? bered them at first, and now look." He pointed to the gold upon tho table, and began nis profane litany again. The mortgago was $2,000, and he had but $2,000. "Is that all ?" cried Ned Warren, hauling at his belt. "Good heavens I What does he take us for ?" cried - Harry Bray, furiously. "Five hundred apiece, and the expense of the journey are about the figure. There, go to the old folks. We'll see about your horse while youj>ack your This set the other at his oaths again; but in *:jovful style this time. They were trumps i and bricks, and by every thing he could think of he'd do it for them if there were any need of it j "He'd pay them back, if he lived, and then ?he'd b?ess them " and so he cboked ofF into sobs ag?in, at which they left him to recover, returned with a horse and a well-filled, pocket flask, and saw him set forth upon his mission as though the "old folks" had been their old folks too. They waited. for .news from him, but none came. They waited quietly at first, then impa-; tiently. At last they heart! this: He had never j been seen at. home, or by any ouo who knew Km since the day oh which they had shaken hands vrith him. Some terrible fate had be? fallen him in the lonely places over which he had journeyed alone. To doubt him never on terea their minds. That he was as true to I them as they to him they well knew, and one thought filled each mind. They must discover his fate, and, if it were what they supposod, avenge him. So, one bright morning, well mounted, well armed, t.nd followed by a favorite dog, a hound, which by no means would be left behind, the two set forth in search of their lost comrade. They took the road he must have taken, and asked at everv tavern and cabin for newB of him. One old man remembered him well; another man pointed out tho dangerous place in the road leading past a precipice to a man of his lost mend's description ; but at that point the clue was lost. After much travel and many, inquiries, our comrades began to fear that they should have paused to examine the rocks and ravines at the foot of the precipice alluded to, ere they proceeded further, and de? termined to turn back and do so. They came to this resolution about nightfall, and just as they reached the borders of a little farm, which bore evidence of careful tillage. Upon this land also stood a farm house, from the crevices in the shutters of which streamed long bars of ruddy lamp-light, and whence the sound of music was plainly heard. It was the ouly dwelling in sight. "We will stay here," said one friend to an? other, "until dawn, and then return." That the house was not an inn did not mat? ter to either of tBem. Hospitality was never refused in the land to any ono at that day. They rode boldly up to the gate and gave a loud halloo. In an instant the door opened, and they could, see within a sudden panic in a lively dance, as all heads turned to see what had caused tnis interruption. "Can you let us sleep here to-night?" in? quired one of the friends, as one asks who fears no refusal. "Certainly, gentlemen," said a pleasant voice, "you're welcome. You'll find a stable there, and corn for your horses. Our man Jack is on tho floor to-night; but hero is a lantern if you will tend to yourselves." "All right, stranger," said Harry, "and thank you, too." The two men led their horses into a stable already, full. Ned watered them, and Bccured them for tho night, and would have left the stablo at once, but that one of the animals at? tracted Harry's attention. Ho turned back to look at him; examined him from head to foot, turned red- and pale, and suddenly clutched Ned's arm. "You remember the horse we bought for Charles Chester?" ho asked. "Yes," said Ned. "Look at the felloe," said Harry. "Yes, the very one. The star on the forehead, the. scar ou his foreleg, tho color, the height I Ned, it's Charley's horse I" "It is the horse," said Ned, slowly. "Harry, if Charley'had lived to go, his horse would have gene with Him." "The owner of this animal may know all we want to hear," said Harry. "It won't bo good news, Ned." ?Ned shook his head, and sadly and slowly they went* toward the house. They found the dancing at its height, arid that this was the .hope-coming of the farmer's bride, a pretty young woman, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, of whom the stalwart bridegroom seemed very fond and proud. "Sit down, strangers," said an old man near the door. "You've come at a merry time,- and don't get much attention. 'My son is just the happiest fellow out, I believe; got no eyes for nobody but that gal. You see, they've been waitin' quite a spell, and he had no luck, none at all,, and it seemed he'd got to give it up, but six months back ho had a streak. Wondefful I ?explained it, but I don't remember, so he sends for her and me from Connecticut. She's an orphan gal, and as soon as her school term wa^ over?she was teacher, ye know?she come. This is their warming, and them's the neigh? bors. They all like Ike. Ike's a good fellow ?a real good fellow, though I say it ^Take a nip, strangers; don't bo afraid of the Jug; I'll fill it again. Why, what ails your dog ?" The dog left outside was howling rather fear? fully. "Wants to come in, porhap3," said Ned, "but it mightn't bo agreeable to the ladies." "Bring him in," said the old man; but the dog would not come. He stood beside a patch of grass in the-gar deu, howling woefully, and scratching and tearing with all his might. Leave the spot he would not, and the friends, when they saw him," and remembered the horse in the stable, felt the blood curdle in their veins. "Whoso horse is that with a white star on the forehead, and a scar on his foreleg?a handsome brown horse, with wonderful eyes?" whispered Harrv to the old man. "That's mv son's horse," bo answered. "Where did he buy it ?" asked the other. "Don't know," said the old man, laughing childishly. "Come to him with the rest of his good luck six months ago." Again the dog outside began to howl. 'Again the friends felt cold chills creep over them. ".Where are wo to sleep ?" asked Edward of the old man. " Wc don't want supper, we need rest." "I'll show you," said tho old man. "The house will be full to-night, but you'll not mind roughing it" And he led the way to an upper room, where a rude bed was already spread. "Just lio down here strangers," he said.? "There's a blanket, if yon are cold, and there's a candle. Good night" And he left them; but not to sleep. The two men had sought solitude that they might commune with each other. Yet now they could only say, "What does this mean ?" They had said it as many ways a dozen times, when Har? ry, by accident, lifted his eyea to a peg in the rough wall. On it was something which rivet? ed his gaze with horror. Yet it was an object quite common and innocent in itself?only a pair of brown saddle-bags, rather new in ap? pearance, and with the letters "C. C." on the Bide. "Look r he cried : "Look, Edward I" The other in turn, stood mute for a time, then gave a spring toward the peg, tore the bags down and opened them. Within they found garments they knew their friend haa worn, an empty belt, and a daguerrotypo of a young girl of whom they had known him to be very fond. "Hb horse.in the stable, his saddle-bags and belt hero, the dog hdwling on the turf without ?what does it all mean ?" cried Harry again. And Ned answered, "We shall soon see," and strode into the great room where tho danc? ing was going on, and up to the bride-groom, standing at tho head of a Virginia reel, and with his bride's hand in his own. "Stop a bit," cried Ned, furiously. "We have a question to ask. What horse is that in the stable?the brown one, with a star on the forehead." "Mine," said tho farmer, turning deadly white. "And tho saddle-bags up stairs marked 'C. C?'" "Gentlemen," he said, "wait until morning, and I will explain everylbing." "We choose to learn the truth for ourselves," said the young man fiercely, j "You had a mysterious streak of lock six - months ago, I understand from the old man there," said Harry Bray. I "Not very mysterious," said tho fanner. "I went to the diggings, and fell in with a nug? get. As for tho horse, I found him, and the saddle-bags, too. If you know to whom they belong, he's welcome to thom." "They belong to the man you murdered for his money, and buried iu the ground yonder, where the dog stands, howling," cried Harry Bray. "Wo arc going to dig there, and heaven help any man who hinders us I" "Dig where you choose," said the farmer. "I am too well known here to bo afraid of two madmen. I murdered a man?I! Thero, I'm a fool to care for such words I Dig, confound you. Many a horse strays in tho woods; many a man has found one as well as I. Conic, neighbors, set the fiddlers going, aud let these madmen dig." \ And spades sank into the turf, aud tho ter I rifled guests gathered around, and the bride 1 clung to her husband's arm, and the music wa3 , dumb, and tho dog's long melancholy wail I filled the air, aud at last, just as the rising moon flung her yellow beams upon the nowlv I dug earth, Ned Warren cried, in an awful voice, "He is here !"? And the two friends lif 1ted from the grave that which had been a man, I with a long, death-grown black hair falling down over his shoulders. ne had been shot in the head and through tho heart, and tht-ro was no doubt in either mind that it wife the body of their lost friend. The fanner seemed petrified with horror; the bride fell into a death-like swoon ; tho guests fell away from their host, and looked askance. Tho old father tore his hair, and pleaded for mercy. But there was no mercy in any heart there". The avengers were all-powerful. The great room adorned for festival and mirth, was turned into a court-room. The women were thrust from it; the men remained. On the raised stand, where the fiddler had been seated, Harry Bray now took his seat iu the character of Judge Lynch. The jury was named, the mock trial hurried on, and the accused called npon to answor. He pleaded not guilty. He denied any knowledge of the fact that a grave lay so near his home. He persisted in the repetition of the statement that be had found the horse and saddle-bags, but he admitted that there had been money in the lattor. He stood before them looking very unlike a murderer, calling on them foe justice?calling on God to witness the truth of his words * speaking of bis young wife and his old father; bidding his neighbors remember that he had never done them any wrong. But Judge Lynch had 110 mercy, no compas? sion, no belief in the possibily of a false accu sation ; and this Judge Lynch was an avenger of blood. The end was what the end of such a trial generally is; the sentence tho awful one of death ; and in less than three hours from the moment on which they first saw the bridegroom happy and blithe, standing with his bride at tho head of the gay country dance, his body dangled a horrible sight to look upon, from the branch of the tree that shadowed what all believed to be his victim's grave! When all was over they found tho old father dead in his chair beside the fire-place, and found among the women a hopeless, gibbering maniac, whom they would hardly have known for the rosy-cheeked young bride. They were revenged, but at what cost 1 The two men returned to their homes, saddened, and altered, yet not remorseful, for ? they had but avenged their comrade; and this, to them, seemed common justice. The legal code of border life had been adhered to; but for the last look at the mad bride they could scarcely have recognized how awful all this had bceu. They lived ou together, still speaking often of poor Charley, and fancying that in 6ome other world he might even know how well they had revenged themselves upon his murderer. And so five years passed. And one day the two went together into a coffee-room kept by an old Frenchman in the city of San Francisco, and,'being in low spirits, out of luck, and with slender purses, were sitting disconsolately over their meal, when a hand came down on each shoulder and a voice cried: "Found at last! Bve searched the city for you. Heaven bless you, dear boys 1" It was Charles Chester, handsome and cheer? ful, and well-to-do-looking?Charles Chester, whose murderer they believed themsolvcs to have lynched years before. And this was the story he told them, won? dering at their pallid looks and awe-struck silence the while. ? The money he had with him being in gold, and heavy for his belt, ho placed it in his saddle-bags, and had completed many -miles of his journey, when, near a new, but. apparently deserted dwelling, he saw a man lying, groan? ing terribly. Dismounting, he assisted him, and fouud that he was a traveler who had been. set upon by ruffians and robbed and wounded. He had crawled "to this house for assistance, but found it empty, and now lay dying in the road. Charles Chester had done his Dest for thepoor fellow, but without avail. He died in his arms just as the sun went down ; and, by its fading light, he had dug a grave on the turf before the empty house and there buried him. There was no one within sight, and his fears of attack upon himself warned him to hurry on; but when the last sad rites were over, and he turned to remonnt his horse, it was1 gone. The animal had escaped in the woods, and, with night coming on, all search seemed hopeless. The money in the saddle-bags rendered the loss a maddening one. He threaded his way through the underbrusTi, calling his steed by name, until total darkness hid all objects; and, at last, striking his head violently against a tree, he fell to the ground insensible. When ho came to he found himself lying in a wagon, ?to which he had been conveyed t>y a kindly German, who could speak no English. In falling, he had broken his arm, and was very Nveak and ill. Before he was able to commu I nicato his story to any one, all hope of recov ! ering either horse or money had deserted him. He was in despair. He could not assist his parents, to return to his friends would bo to throw himself upon their bounty. This he I would not do; and his struggles had been great at first, but they were over now. He had done well by tho "old folks." and he had returned to pay his debts, ana resume his friendship with his old friends. He was with them ; he lived. The iarmer had doubtless told the truth. He did not even know why the turf had grown so green in the little yard, and he had found the horse at largo in tho woods, and knew nothing of the rider; but tho thing had been done, and could not be undone?the dead brought to life, or tho ma? niac's mind restored, or the blood washed from j the murderer's hands. Of course they told their story, and of course they believed their friendship as warm as ever; I but it was not so. They never met each other again as of. yore. The two could not forget j the man they had lynched to avenge their f friend, and doubted tho propriety of his rc ' turning alive and merry to trouble their I consciences, which were quiet enough as long as he seemed dead. As for Charles Chester, he cleared the murdered man's memory among his neighbors, and. saw the wild-eyed, white faced woman, who only shook her head and moaned, and muttered-when he Bpokc to her; and then he, too, was content to say good-bye to those who had done the deed albeit for his sake. So the three parted, each going his own way; for thus it seemed easier to forget the deed done by Judge Lynch and his court on the day of the bride's coming home. Ex-Politicians and the Pcoplo of the South. The attempt of the Northern Radicals to j manufacture political capital against thc-South, to be used in the approaching campaign, out of the egotistic utterances of a few ex-political chiefs ol the past period, has been signally foiled by their inability to produce from South? ern journals, or any other manifestations of popular sentiment, the slightest evidence of approval of these emissions of ancient politi? cians, who have been long since consigned to history. On the contrary, the tone of the press and tho people in the South has been com? plimentary of these infelicitous declarations. They and their utterere are respectfully dis? owned as authorized exponents ol the present 8entiraeht of the people. They fill niches in the temple of history, not places in the present movement of popular ideas and regards. The people of the South are a gallant, generous and magnanimous race. They are charitable, con? siderate and tender to those, whose past services have evinced earnestness and devotion to their cause and rights, (often, however, marred and misdirected by human weaknesses,] but they are idso independent, self-reliant ana jealous of all attempts to lead them agaiust their con vie- j tions aud honest impulses. Hence the counsel and appeal of such distinguished ex-chiefs as Davis, Toombs and Stephens have not been accepted by thein. They have not the slight? est idea of reviving tho dismal past, of fighting over the ancient issues, of re-opening old and cicatriccd wounds and of placing thousands at the beck aud command of ambitious chiefs, to be led into and through auother wretched and disastrous contest with the inevitable. These chiefs, the New Orleans Time* remarks, may resolve to "light on, and fight ever," but if it is for tho restoration of slavery, for the right of secession, for an independent republic, lor the stars and bars, or agaiust the Union, the prin? ciples of universal freedom and equality, they will fight without followers or a command. Those issues are accepted as determined, and the people of the South will never consent to engage in the unavailing struggle for their re? suscitation. They prefer to direct their ear? nestness, their vigor and intelligence in other directions and other contests, in which results may be achieved which will tcud to ameliorate thoir condition, to preserve the Constitution in the form and spirit which were given to it by its framers, to defend liberty and equality, the rights of the States and the limitation of Fed oral powers, and to bring back the administra? tion of the Government to its original honesty, dignity and efficiency. ? Tho Petersburg fVa.) Index is responsible for the following: A strauge story comes to us from Prince George County. It goes that a colored man who has been suffering for some time from scrofula was induced to take live frogs, and, splitting them open, apply them to his neck. This he had been doing lor several days, and thought he was realizing some bene? fit from the strange remedy. Yesterday morn? ing, while his wile was dressing his neck, tho head of a green snake protruded from under the skin, and she pulled it out and found it to be alive and about ten inches in length Fodder Pulling:. experiments showing the injury done. We referred in a late issue to the questiona? ble policy of fodder-pulling, and of depending for supplies of forage on the blades saved from the corn crop. It has been frequently stated that the injury done to the corn by pulling the blades off at the usual season, is greater than tho worth of the fodder. The matter has never been accurately determined by any general sys? tem of experiment, which, however^ it is well worth while to do, and every planter who would learn the truth should test the question for himself. An intelligent planter of Virginia, D. R. Uarrisou, of Prince George County, some years since instituted careful test to ascertain the loss in weight of clean corn by stripping the blades at the usual time of fodder-pulling, and also by the practice of topping corn above the ear, as is the usual Virginia custom after the ear is well filled. Rows of equal length, twelve rows making an acre, the average weight per row of clean corn is given as follows: lbs. per row. Four rows, blades pulled to top.121 Four rows, strippeaand topped atsame time..l34 Four rows, topped, blades left below the ear..l39 Four rows, blades left on whole stalk.1G1 Six rows, blades pulled to the top.88 Six 'rows, all blades left.125 One row, stripped, tops cut ten days later.... 90 One row, blades all left.142 One row, blades all left.142 One row, stripped, tops left ten day3.114 One row, blades all left.122 The rows in this experiment being long, and the whole covering several.acres of land, pro? ducing over twenty bushels per acre, the test is a* valuable ono. It indicates a considerable loss in every instance of comparison, by the fodder-pulling. We have also the report of another experi? ment of tho same nature made a good many years ago by Mr. George Seaborn, of Pendle tou, S. C, and published in the Greenville Mountaineer at that time. Mr. Seaborn tested on twelve short rows of com as uniform in every respect as possible, as follows: Rows 1, 4, 7, and 10 were left with all the blades on, and the corn, when mature and dry, shelled out 71$ lbs., measuring 4 pecks, 1 gal? lon 2 quarts and 2} pints. Rows 2, 5, 8 and 11, were stripped of their blades at the usual period for fodder-pulling, and shelled out 55 lbs. only, and measured 4 pecks and h pint. The fodder from these two rows, when cured, weighed 18 lbs., which ad? ded to the 55 makes only ? lbs. more than the clean corn from the rows on which the blades were left. The remaining rows, 3, 6. 9,12, Mr. Seaborn left until the blades were dry up to the ear, and on some stalks even to the top, then cut up at the roots and shocked in the field till the other corn was gathered. It was then hauled in and shucked, and shelled out 70? lbs. meas? uring 4 pecks, 1 gallon, 2 quarts, and 1 pint. This last result corroborates that of the first four rows, and the whole testimony of the ex? periments is strongly to the effect that by pul? ling the blade fodder we lose in weight orthe corn almost as many pounds as we make in fodder. There is no work on the farm or plantation more troublesome than fodder-pulling, and none in which there are more risks and anxiety and losses from bad weather than fodder-pull? ing. If in addition it is a losing business, however successfully done, planters ought to know it. It is to be hoped, some who are care? ful and competent will make tests during the coming summer and give others the benefit of the result. A few acres in drilled corn, sown as thick as three bushels per acre on good land, herds grass on wet bottoms, ample oat crop, with pea vines, millet, crab grass, ami a few acres in clover, will be found to pay infinitely better in the end than confining our forage crop to the one item of corn blades, at the expense of the corn itself.?Banner of the Smith. Utilization of Cotton Seed.?Various movements have been made of late years look? ing toward the utilization of cotton seed, usu? ally considered a burden to the cotton planter, and in getting rid of which great ingenuity has been expended. Among the more recent prop- { ositions of the kind, that of the employment of' the adhering cotton, and, perhaps, of tho woody material, in the manufacture of paper, has been brought forward, and a calculation pre? sented as to tho number of tons of paper stock that could thus be introduced into the market. Lately, large establishments have b-ien started in the South for the purpose of obtaining the oilfrom tho seed, the refuso being converted into oil-cake for fattening cattle. The crude oil brings iu New York from thirty-five to forty cents a gallon, and the oil-cake commands nearly tho price of corn, being said to equal it iu its fattening qualities. Shipments of the seeds have been mado recently in a great quan? tity to Liverpool from New Orleans, one vessel takings over ten thousand sacks of the seeds, and an?ut one thousand sacks of oil-cake; and it is expected that these shipments will be fol? lowed up on a large scale. As over two million tons of cotton seed arc every year produced in the South, we may well imagine how important it will be to cur country should the whole of this now nearly waste substance be utilized in some form. The comparative value of winter refined cot? ton seed oii and of. olive-oil may be gathered from the fact thai at the latest dates the former is quoted in the New York prices current at 72 cents por gallon, while the latter with duty off ;brings only !?1 in gold.?Agricultural Report. ? The young lady singer who thought she could make her voice clearer by straining it made a great mistake. ? Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can ; and common suffer (iug is a far stronger link than common joy. ? A young man generally gives a lock of his hair to his sweetheart before he marries her. After marriage she helps herself, and don't use scissors. ? A voung man wants to know what busi? ness he had better go iuto that will enable him to occupy a high position in society. Let him try the roofing business; in that trade a smart man will soon get to the top of the ladder. ? It is said Mr. Vallandingham had written a complete autobiography, and that one of his pet projects was. to deliver an oration at "the Centennial Anniversary of American Indepen? dence, July 4, 1S7G, the preparation of which he had already commenced. ? A fashion writer says : "The now styles of bonnets for next lall arc said to be soinething really new, and many milliners think that they will have to hire a few people to wear them, so as to get people used lo their decidedly unique appearance." Beforo hiring ladies to wear the new style the milliners might call for volun? teers. ? The story of Fred. Grant's marriage to Beatrice Guelph, is only a second edition of the romance of 1840, relating to a son of Mar? tin Vau B?ren, who was to be the husbaud ol* the girlish Queen Victoria. The title of Prince John was then bestowed upou the youth, and it stood by him until he died, three years ago. ? Mark Twain has been troubled with a lightning-rod man, and to get rid of him ad? dressed him as follows: "Let us have peace I" I shrieked. "Put up a hundred and fifty 1 Put some on the kitchen 1 put a dozen on the barn! put a couple on the cow ! scatter them all over the persecuted place till it looks liko a ziuc-plaled, spiral-twisted, silver-mounted cane-brake! Move I Use up all *hc material you can get your hands on, and when you run out of lightning rods put up ram rods, cam rods, stair rods,, piston rods? anything that will pander to your dismal appe? tite for artificial scenery, and bring respite to my raging brain and healing to my lacerated soul ?'? ? A Connecticut paper feelingly and sensibly remarks: When Moses got up flies to bother the people of Egypt, his nead was leveL They are a little the meanest thing known in science. Take it Sunday afternoon and between six and eight o'clock in the mornings when any one is trying to get a nap, and to have a perverse, per? sistent, pertinacious, pusillanimous fly come to you a thousand and nmteen times in succession, is enough to make Pharoah let go, not only of Jews, but his meerschaum pipe, and his pretti? est servant girl. A boarder at one of our ho? tels, who was subject to this plague of flies, woke up the other morning with the mattress twisted around his neck and tied in a double bow knot. We calculate that he rolled over in bed so many times that morning, that if the same number of revolutions were given to a mustard seed, it would roll to Alaska and back again. ; ? In recompense for the short duration of ] life entailed by some occupations, it must be regarded as a consoling, almost a sublime fact, that labor, in general, does not tend to shorten life, but rather, by strengthening the body, to lengthen it; while idleness and luxury 'are Erodutive of the same results as the most un ealthy occupations. DON'T OVERLOOK THIS. No Charge for Showing Goods. nnUE subscriber has just returned from New I York, and is now receiving a large and well-selected stock of Goods, which he is confi? dent can BE SOLD LOWER Than any stock of Goods EVER BROUGHT TO THIS MARKET. Iiis stock consistj, iu part, of Calicoes, Cambrics, . . Lawns, Percales, Muslins, Mozambique?, Japanese Cloths, Mohairs, Organdies, DeLaincs, Alpaocas, Jaconets, Swiss, Nainsook, Blea. & unblea. Shirting and Sheeting, Plaid & Striped Jiomespuns, Bed Tickings; And, in fact, everything elso belonging to the Dry Goods lino. I have also an unusually large and cheap s'took of j Mens', Ladies, Boys and Misses BOOTS and SHOES. My stock of Mens', Youths' and Boys' CLOTHING and CLOTHS, Embraces everything in that line, from Cot? ton and Linen TWEEDS to the finest CLOTHS and CASSIMERES. My Gents' Furnishing Department Is complete in everything usually kept in that line Of Fancy Goods and Yankee Notions,. I have an end loss variety. All of the latest stylos of? Ladies' and Misses Hats and Bonnets, M?ns', Yonths' and Boys' Hats and Caps, Hosiery, Gloves, Collars, Cravats, Toilet Soaps, Ribbons, Laces, Gimps, Embroideries, &o. GROCERIES, HARDWARE, IRON, STEEL, HOLLOW-WARE, SHOVELS, FORKS, 8PADES, HOES, AXES, HATCHETS, HAMMERS, &c, &c, &c. Be sure and examine my stock beforo purcha? sing, for I am confident I can sell yoo goods. A trial is all I ask. M. LESSER, No. 3 Granite Row, .Anderson O. II., S, O. April 6, 1871 . 40 Greenville &. Columbia Railroad. Columbia, S. C, March 1,1871. ON and after this dal?, tho following Schedule) will be run daily, Sundays excepted, connocllng with Night Trains on South CaroUna Road, u]> and down, also with Trains going North and South on Churlotto, Columbia and Augusta Uailroad: UP TRAIN. Leavo Columbia._v..- 7.00 a. in II Alston.....9.10 a. ni. " Nowborry.-.11.15 a. m. " Cokesbury.~._...... 3.00 p. tn. " ? Beltou........ 5.00 p. ni. Arrive Anderson.~.6.00 p. in. ; " at Grocavillo...'..?.m....... 6.80 p. m. DOWN TKAIN. Leavo Greonvlllc.6.15 a m. " Anderson.?.6.45 a.m. " Helton._._.?.04 a m. " Cokeabory._.>....10.07 a in. " Abbeville.?.......8.15 a m. " Newborry...........1.56 p. m. " Alston...-4.05 p.m. Arrlvo Columbia..-.6.55 p. m. M. T. BAKTLETC, General Ticket Agent. March 0,1S71 36 WATCHES, CLOCKS AND JEWELRY FOR SALE AT LOW FIGURES. ALL kinds of Watches, Clocks and Jowelry neatly and carefully repaired at the old stand of W. K. HARRIS. Having had a practi? cal experience of six years in the trade, is confi? dent of giving entire satisfaction. All repairing warranted for twelvo months. m West cud Masonic Building. J. A. DANIELS. April 13, 1871 41 1 ni Gnat Miiry AT P13XDLKTOX, S. C. A LL orders for TINWARE from country mer J\_ chants and village stores promptly filled at low cash prices. Old tin vessels, lamps, guns, pistols, sewing machines, etc., repaired. Rags, Beeswax, Tallow, &c, taken in exchange. Any one wishing anything in the above line will do well to give me un early call. PAR? LOR and COOKING STOVES always on hand. GEO. D. BARR, Pendleton, S. C. Fob IG, 1871 33 J. C. C. FEATHERSTON, ATTOENEY AT LAW, WILL practico in tho Courts of Anderson, Abbc villo and surrounding Counties, and in the Cnitod States Courts. Office?No. 8 Qranito Row, up stairs, ovor Watson & Bro'e. Store, Andorson C. U. Jan 6, 1871 27 Ice! Ice! Ice! SHE COLUMBIA ICE HOUSE is now open for the season, and prepared to sell Natural e Ice at from.1 to 1J cunts per pound, accord? ing to quantity. This Ice ia far preferable to any manufactured or prepared by chemical process. J. D. BATEMAN, Agent, Columbia, S. C. Anril?. 1871 40 3m 1871. SPRING TRADE. 1871. CROQUET. Complete sets from $8 to $20 per set. BASE. BALLS. All the different kinds at reduced priees. FISfiiNG TACKLE. Of every description. TRAVELING BAGS. For ladies and gentlemen. FOREIGN FANCY GOODS, GUNS AND PISTOLS OF ALL KINDS and PRICES. AMMUNITION, SPORTSMEN'S GOODS. Goods shipped to any part of the country per express. The same careful attention given to or? ders by mail as to personal purchases. Price? for our goods based on gold at par. POULTffEY, Tit DILLE & CO#y 20? W. Baltimore Street, baltimore, XU, April 6, 1871 40 ly IMPORTAKT NOTIC? TO CONSUMERS OF DBf GOODS, All Retail Orders amounting to 320 and Over Delivered In any Part of the Country JTree oi "Express C'liar-g-os^ HAMHTON "EASTER & SONS, OF BALTIMORE, MD., In ordor the better to meet the wants of their Botall Otf tomors at a distance, have established a SAMPLE BUREAU, and will, upon application, promptly send by mail fall line* of Samples of the Newest and wont Fasbionablti Goods, of FRENCH, ENGLISH and DOMESTIC MANUFACTURE; guaranteeing at all times to sell at low, if not at test prices, than any house in the country. Buying our goods from the largest and moat celebrated manufacturers in the different parts of Europe, and im^ porting the same by Steamers direct to Baltimore, oar stock is at all times promptly supplied with, the noveRte* of the London and Paris markets.. As wc buy and sell only for cash, and make no bad debts', we arc able and willing to sell our goods at from Teh to Fifteen Peb CemvLess Peopit than if we j;ave credit. In sending for samples specify the. kiwi of $ tod* desired. We keep the best grades of every class of good;, front the lowest to the most costly. Ordert ?unaccompanied by the cash will 1? rent C. O.D. PROMPT-PAYING WHOLESALE BUYERS an fart ted to inspect the Stock in our Jobbing; and Packing Do partment. Address HAMILTON EASTER & SONS, 197, 199, 201 and 203 West Baltimore Street. Baltimore,"SOL Oct 27,1S70 18 ly WAVERLY W?&T JOHN A. MANTES, Proprietor, ?-?-* "? THE WAVE ELY HOUSE has been repaired and fitted up, and has -now a magnificent ap? peal ancc. Mr Mayes is lately of Abbeville, and is well known as a good- Hotel keeper. The House has been newly furnished, and has all the modem improvements' and comforts, and will give the best the country affords in way of fare, which will be served up in the best of style. Slop and see tis, and you will be well treated. March 23, 1871 88 H. H. SC?DDAY, M. IK, Physician and Surgeon, ANDERSON C. H., S. C RESPECTFULLY tenders his services to the oitisens of Anderson Village and vicinity. With an experience of sixteen years in all forma of disease peculiar to this climate, he hopes to? me et the expectations of all patients committed to his care. Special attention given to Obsterics; and dis? eases of women and children. When not professionally engaged, he can usn .ally be seen at the Drug Store of Messrs. Simp? son, Hill & Co., or at the residence formerly oc? cupied by J. B. Sloan, deceased. . March 23, 1871 38 6m M. GOLDSMITH. P. KUD, GOLDSMITH & KIND, FOUNDEBS & MACHINISTS, (PHffiNIX IRON WORKS,) COLUMBIA, S. C, MANUFACTURERS of Steam Engines, of aH sizes ; Horse Powers, Circular and Muley Saw Mills, Flour Mills, Grist and .Sugar Cane Mills, Ornamental House and Store Fronts, Cast Iron Railings of every sort, including graveyards, residences, &c. Agricultural Implements, Brass and Iron Castings of nil kinds made to order on short notice, and on the most reasonable terms. Also, manufacturers of Cotton Presses, &c. May 18, 1871 - 46 . ly HENRY BiSCHOFF & GO., Wholesale Grocers, AND DEALERS IN WINES, LIQUORS, CIGARS, TOBACCO, &C, No. 107 East Bay, H. BISrilOFF.I i i'Sl Charleston, S. C. Fob 23, 1871 34 ? 6m MACUUEEN & REECKE, WHOLESALE Produce & Provision-Dealers; Have constantly on hand and receiving, Ba? con, Dry Salted Meats, Pork, Lard, Flour, Sugar, Molasses, &c, &c. Purchasers arc requested to examine their stock aft 21 and 23 VENDCE RAN?E, CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA, Feb 23, 1871 84 6nv ZATER WHEEE^ Mill Gearin^Shaftinfe&Puiteys L?sEUft fob a ciaciass?si Sept 15,1870 12 ly WM. HKHat TBBSC0T. W. HOMPHBXT?. TRESCOT & HUjHTIULEYS, Attorneys at Law, 11 TILL practice in the Courts of the Eighlm W Circuit, and in the United States Court. Office in Broyles' building, opposite the Besse? House, Anderson C. U. Fcb 9, 1871 32