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HOYT & CO., Proprietors. ANDERSON O. H., S. C, THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 10, 1871. VOLUME Vn.?NO. 6, LEI) OUT OF DANOER. BY JEAN* INGELOW. Who is this? A careless little midshipman, idling about in a great city, with his pockets full of money. He was waiting for the coach; it comes up presently and he gets on the top of it, and begins to look about him. They soon leave the chimuey tops behind them; his eye wanders with delight over the harvest fields, he smells the honey-suckle in the hedgerow, and he wishes he was down among the hazel bushes, that he might strip them of the milky nuts ; then he sees a great wain piled up with barley, and he wishes he was on the top of it; then the checkered shad? ows of the trees lying across the white road, and then the squirrel runs up a bough, and he cannot forbear to whoop and hallo, though he cannot chase it to its nest. The other passengers were delighted with his simplicity and chddlike glee; and they en? courage him to talk about the sea and the snips, especially Her Majesty's?wherein he had tne honor to sail. In the jargons of the seas, he describes the many perfections, and enlarges upon her peculiar advantages, he then confides to them how a certain middy, having been or? dered to the mast-head as a punishment, had seen, while sitting on the top-mast cross-tree, something uncommonly like the sea serpent, but finding this hint received with incredulous smiles, he begins to tell them how he hopes that, some day, he shall be promoted to have charge of che poop. The passengers hope that he will have that honor; they have no doubt . that he deserves it. His cheeks flush with pleasure to hear them say so, and they have no notion in what -''that honor" may happen to consist The coach stops; the midshipman, with his hands in his pockets, sits rattling his money and singing. There is a poor woman standing by the door of the village inn; she looks care? worn, and well she may, for in the spring her husband went up to London to seek for work. He goes for work, and she was expecting soon to join him there, when, alas I a fellow work? man wrote her word how he had met with an accident, how he was very bad and wanted his wife to come and nurse him. She does not think of begging, but seeing the boy's eyes attracted to her, she makes a courte? sy, and he withdrew his hand and throws her a dozen sovereigns. She looks at it with incred? ulous joy, and then she looks at him. "It's all right," he says, and then the coach starts up again, while full of gratitude, she hires a cart to take her across the country to the railway, and the next night she may sit by the bedside of her sick husband. The midshipman knows nothing about that ?and he never will. The passengers go on talking?the little mid? shipman has told them who he is, and where he is going. But there is one who has never joined in the conversation; he is a dark look? ing and restless man, he sits apart, he sees the Slitter of the falling coin, and now he watches ie boy more closely than he did before. He is a strong man, resolute and determined; the boy with his pockets full of money will be no match for him. He has told the others that his father's house is the parsonage at Y-, the coach goes with? in five miles of it, and he means to get out at the nearest point, and walk, or rather run over to his home, through the great wood. The man decides to get down, too, and go through the woods; he wiil rob the little mid? shipman ; perhaps, if he cries out and strug? gles, he will do worse. The boy, he thinks, will have no chances against him; it is quite impossible that he can escape; the way is lone? ly, and the sun will be down. No. There seemed indeed little chances of escape. The half-fledged bird just fluttering down from his nest had no more chance against the keen-eyed hawk, than the little light-heart? ed sailor boy wili have against him. And now they reach the village where the boy is to alight. Ho wishes the passengers good evening, and runs lightly down between the scattered houses. The man has also got down and is following. The path lies through the village church yard; there is evening service, and the door is' vide open, for it's warm. The little midship? man steals up the porch, looks in and listens. The clergyman has just risen from his knees in the pulpit, and is giving out his text Thirteen months have passed since the boy was in a house of prayer; and a feeling of pleasure induced him to stand and listen. He hears the opening' sentences of the ser? mon ; and then he remembers his home and comes softly out of the porch, full of calm and serious pleasure. The clergyman has reminded him of his father, and his careless heart is filled with the echoes of his voice and of his prayers. He thinks on what the clergyman said of the care of our Heavenly Father for us; he remembers how, when he left home, his lather prayed that he might be preserved through every danger; he does not remember any danger that he has been exposed to, ex? cepting in the great storm, but he is grateful he is come home in safety, and he hopes when? ever he shall be in danger, which he supposes he shall be some day, he hopes that then the providence of God will watch over him and protect him. And he presses onward to the entrance of the wood. "Are not two sparrows," he hears, "sold for a farthing ? and not one shall fall to the ground without your Father's notice. But the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows." The man is there before him. He has pushed into the thicket, and cut a heavy stake; he suffers the boy to go on before; aud then he comes out, falls into the path and follows him. It is too light at present for his deed of dark? ness and too near the entrance of the wood, but he kno;78 that shortly the path will branch off into two, and the right one for the boy to take will be dark and lonely. But what prompts the little midshipman, when not fifty rods from the branching of the path, to break into a sudden run ? It is not fear?he never dreams of danger. Some sud? den impulse, or some wild wish for home makes him dash off suddenly from his saunter, with a whoop and a bound. On he goes a* if ruuning s race; the path bends and the mau loses sight of him. "But I shall catch him yet," he thinks; "he cannot keep up the pace long." The boy has nearly reached the place where the path di? vides, when he puts up a white owl, that can scarcely fly, and it goes whirling on, close to the ground before him. He gsiins upon it; another moment and it will be his. Now he gets the start again; they come to the branch? ing of the patlis, and the bird goes down the wrong one. The temptation to follow it is too strong to be resisted; he knows that somewhere deep in the wood, there is a cross track by which he can get into the track he has left; it is only to run a little faster aud he shall be home nearly as soon. On he rushes; the path takes a bend and ho is just out of ^i&iii; pUTdUm coises where Jhe paths divide. The boy has turned to the right?he takes the left, and the faster they run the farther they are asunder. I The white owl still leads him on; the path gsts darker and narrower; at last he finds that c has missed it altogether, and his feet are on the soft ground. He flounders about among the trees and stumps vexed with himself, ana panting after his race. At last he hits upon another track, and push? es on as fast as he -can. The ground begins sensibly to descend; he has lost his way?but he keeps hearing to the left; and though it is now dark, he thinks he must reach the main path sooner or later. He does not know this part of the wood, but runs on. Oh, little midshipman! why did you chase that owl; if you had kept the path of the dark man behind you, there was a chance that you might outrun him; or if he had overtaken you, some passing wayfarer might have heard your cries, and come to save you. Now you are running straight on to your death, for the forest water is deep and black at the bottom of this hill. O that the moon might come out and show it to you! The moon is under a thick canopy of heavy black clouds, and there is not a star to glitter on the water and make it visible. The tern is soft tinder his feet as he runs and slips down the sloping hill. At last he strikgs against a stone, stumbles and falls. Two minutes more and he will fall into the black water. "Heydey !" cries the boy, "what's this ? Oh, how it tears my hands ! Oh, this is a thorn bush ! Oh, my arms! I can't get free 1" He struggles aud pants. "All this comes of leaving the path," he says ; "I shouldn't have cared for rolling down if it hadn't been for this hush. The fern was soft enough. I'll never stay away in a woods at night again.? There, free at last! And my jacket nearly torn off my back." With a good deal of patience and a great many scratches, he got free of the thorn that had arrested his progress when his feet were within, a yard of the water, manages to scram? ble up the bank, and makes the best of his way through the dark dreary wood. And now, as the clouds move slowly onward, the moon shows her face on the black surface of the water, and the little white owl comes and hoots and flutters over it like a wandering snow drift. But the boy is in the wood again, and knows nothing of the danger from which he has escaped. All this time the dark passenger follows the main track, and believes that the boy is before him. At last he hears a crashing of dead boughs, and presently the little midshipman's voice, not twenty yards before him. Yes, it is true; the Uby is in the cross track. He will pass the cottage in the wood directly, and after that his pursuer will come upon him. The boy bouuds into the path, but as he sees the cottage, he is thirsty aud so hot, that he must ask the inhabitants if they can sell him a glass of ale. He enters without ceremony. "Ale ?" says the woodman, who is sitting at his supper.? "No, we have no ale; but perhaps my wife can give thee a drink of milk. Come in." So he comes in and shuts the door, and while he is waiting for the milk footsteps pass. They are the footsteps of the pursuer, who goes on with his stake iu bis hand, angry and impatient that he has not yet come up with him. The woman goes to the dairy for the milk, and the boy thinks that she is gone a loug time. He drinks it, thanks her, and then takes his leave. Faster and faster the man runs after him. It is very dark, but there is a yellow streak in the sky, where the moon is plowing up a furrowed mass of grey clouds and one or two stars are blinking through the trees. Fast the boy follows, and fast the man runs on, with his weapon in his hand. Suddenly he hears tbejoyous whoop?not before, but be hinchhim. He stops and listens noiselessly.? Yes, it is so. He pushes himself into the thicket and raises his stake, when the boy shall pass. On he comes running lightly, with his hands in his pockets. A sound strikes at the same instant on the ears of both; and the boy turns back from the very jaws of death to listen.? It is the sound of wheels, and it draws rapidly nearer. A man comes up, driving a gig. "Halloa," he says, in a loud, cheerful voice. "What, be? nighted, youngster?" "Oh, is it you. Mr. D-?" says the boy. "No, I'm not benighted; or, at any rate, I know my way out of the woods." The man drew back farther among the bash? es. "Why, bless the boy," says the farmer, "to think of our meeting in this way I The parson told me he was in hopes of seeing thee some day this week. I'll give thee a lift. This is a lone place to be in this time of night" "Lone?" says the boy laughing. "I don't mind that; and, if you know the way, it's as safe as the quarter deck." So he gets into the farmer's gig, and is onco more out of reach of the pursuer. But the man knows that the farmer's house is a quarter of a mile nearer than the parsonage, and in that quarter of a mile there is still a chance of committing robbery. He determined still to make the attempt, and cuts across the wood with such rapid strides that he reaches the far? mer's gate just as the gig drives up to it. "Well, thank you, farmer," says the mid? shipman, as ho prepares to get down from the wagon. '?I wish you good night, gentlemen," says the man when he passes. "Good night, friend," the farmer replies. "I say, my boy, it's a dark night enough; I have a mind to drive you ou to the parsonage and hear the rest of that long tale of yours about the sea-serpent." The little wheels go on again. They pass the man, and he stands still in the road to listen till the sound dies away. He flings his stake into the hedge, and goes back again. His evil purposes have all been frustrated?the thoughtless boy has baffled him at every step. And now the little midshipman is at home. The joyful meeting has taken place, and when they have admired his growth, and decided whom ho is like, and measured his height on the window frame, and seen him eat his supper, they begin to question him about his adven? tures, more for the pleasure of hearing him talk than from any curiosity. "Adventures !" says the boy, seated between his father and mother on tho sofa. "Why, ma. I did write you an account of the voyage, and there is nothing else to tell. Nothing happened to-day?at least nothing particular." "You came by the coach wc told you of?" asks his father. "Oh, yes, papa; and when wc got about twenty miles, there came up a beggar while we were changing horses, and 1 threw down (as I thought) a shilling ; but as it fell, I saw that it was a sovereign. She was very honc?t and showed me what it was, but I didn't take it back, for you know, mamma, it in a long time since I have given anything to anybody." "Very true, my boy," his mother answered, "but you should not be careless with your money, and few beggars are worthy objects of charity." "I suppose you got down at the cross roads ?" says the elder brother. "Yes, and went through the woods. I should have been home sooner if I had not lost my way there." "Lost your way f aayB his mother, alarmed ; "my boy, you should not have left the path at dusk." "Oh, ma,", says the little midshipman, with a smile, "you're always thinking we are in dan? ger. If you could see me sometimes sitting at the jib-boom end, or across the main top-mast cross-tree, you would be frightened. But what danger can there be in a wood ?" "Well,- my boy," she answers, "I don't wish to be over-anxious, and make my children un? comfortable by my fears. What did you stray from the path for?" "Only to catch a little owl, mamma: but I didn't catch her, after all. I got a roll down from a bank and caught my jacket on a thorn bush, which was rather unlucky. Ah ! three large holes I see in my sleeve. And so I scram? bled up again and got into the path, and asked at the cottage for some beer. What a long time the woman kept me to be sure. I thought it would never come.; But very soon after Mr. D- drove up in his gig; and he brought me on to the gate.' "And so, this account of your adventures being brought to a close," his father says, "we discover that there was no adventures to tell." "No, papa, nothing happened, nothing par? ticular, I mean." Nothing particular. If they could have known, they would have thought lightly in comparison of the dangers of the jib-boom's end and the main-top-mast-cross-trces. But they did not know, any more than we do, of the dangers that hourly beset us. Some few dangers we are aware of, and we do what we can to provide against them ; but for the greater portion our eyes behold wo cannot see. We walk securely under His guidance, without whom "not a sparrow falleth to the ground;" and when we have had escapes that the angels have admired at, we come and say, perhaps, that nothing has happened?at least nothing particular. It is not well that our minds should be much exercised about these hidden dangers, since they are so, and so great that no human art or foresight can prevent them. But it is very well that we should reflect constantly on the loving Providence which watches every footstep of a track always balancing on time and eter? nity; and that such reflections should make us happy and afraid?afraid of trusting our souls too much to any earthly guide or security ?happy from the knowledge that there is One with whom we may trust them wholly, and with whom the very hairs of our head are all num? bered. Without such trust how can we rest or be at peace; but with it wo may say with the Psal? mist, "I will both lav me down in peace, and sleeD, for thou, Lora, only makest mo dwell in safety 1" Circulation of the Blood.?It is known that our food nourishes us by being changed into blood. A healthy man has in his system about three gallons of blood. This is all con? tained in the heart, arteries and veins, and their minute branches. So numerous are these, so thickly set in our flesh, that we cannot stick the point of a needle through the skin without piercing some of them. In all these organs?the heart, arteries and veins?the blood i6 constantly in motion. In the arteries, it flows from the heart; in the veins to the heart. And so rapid is this mo? tion, that all the blood iu the body, from the crown of the head, and the tips of the finger, and the ends of the toes passes to the heart, and from the heart to the lungs, and from the lungs back to the heart again, every five min? utes. This circulation is absolutely necessary to the support of life. In its passage through the system, the blood gives up its life-sustaining power to the different organs, receives only waste matter, with which it goes loaded to the heart and lungs, where it exchanges this for an? other portion of life-giving oxygen. With this, it Is again sent, by the beating of the heart, on its cheering mission to all parts of the body. When we place our fingers upon an artery, as at the wrist, or on the side of the neck, un? der the ears, or on the throbbing temples, we can feel this flow of the blood, making a pulse at every beat of the heart. But in the veins, as on the back of the hand, the flow is constant, and. on this account, imperceptible to the touch. If from any cause, as drowning, or suffoca? tion by gas, our lungs are deprived of a supply of pure air, the blood is not purified, does not receive a new supply of oxygen, and so goes into the circulation a second time, incapable of | sustaining life. Insensibility and death are the sure results, unless, by artificial means, puro air can be forced into the lungs before life's flickering llame is quite extinguished. The Power of Artillery.?The recent conllict between the French and Prussians has been decided?like all modern conflicts are now ?more by the power of artillery than by mere hand-to-hand engagement. New inventions in the instruments of warfare have placed mere fhysical strength altogether in the minority, t used to be the boast that the British soldier was superior in the matter of a bayonet charge to any other soldier in the world. Now, how? ever, times arc altered. The result of victory depend only on the power of the artillery collectively. Yet this leads us to an old reflec? tion?namely, whether the men of the present day arc equal or inferior in statue to the war? riors of ancient time. The generally accepted belief is that the men of the present day arc quite as stout and stalwart as they were in the old historic ages long gone by. Even at Lord Eglintoun's famous tournament, not a few of the knights had some difficulty in finding armor large enough to wear. And going even farther back, if we take the Egyptian mummy cases in the British Museum, few of them would con? tain an average sized Englishman. So much for antiquity. The Romans and Greeks of old were a snorter, lighter race than the Gauls, from whom the first sprang, and shrank in time. The sentries suffocated at Pompeii are quite as short as the smallest French linesman, without the broad, well set look so often ob? servable in the latter sturdy little race. We venture to think that a brigade of our British "guard" would have made short work of even the picked men of a Roman legion.?Once a Week. ? "I fear," said a country minister to his flock, "When I explained to you, in my last charity sermon, that philanthropy was tho love of our species, you must have misunderstood me to say 'specie,' which may account for the smallncss of the collection. You will prove, I hope, by your present contribution, that you arc no longer laboring under the same mistake. ? According to one of the resolutions lately adopted at a woman's rights meeting, "one of | the most detestable sights ever seen is a parcel of old bachelors lounging around smoking and talking abuut the horrors of married life." j Report on the Condition of Things in South Carolina. The sub-committee on Ku KIuz outrages, recently at work in this State?that is, the Rad? ical members?on their return to Washington, caused to be published an exaggerated state? ment of affairs in South Carolina, as revealed by their investigation. The substance of their statement was telegraphed all over the country, and the full account as contained in a Radical newspaper in Washington has been copied ex? tensively. As an offset to this partisan pro? ceeding, tho Washington Patriot gives the fol? lowing statement of Judge Van Trump, the Democratic member of the sub-committee, which is correct in every essential particular as to the true condition of affairs in this State: The sub-committee, consisting of Messrs. Scott, Stevenson and Van Trump, appointed to investigate the alleged outrages in South Caro? lina, returned to this city on Saturday after? noon, and immediately after a statement was published, on the authority of the Radical members, though without their signatures, which was subsequently telegraphed over the country by the Associated Press. We are au? thorized, by Judge Van Trump, to pronounce that publication untrue in many essential par? ticulars and a perversion of facts in others, evidently colored with the purpose of produc? ing a partisan and false impression. The tes? timony shows that there are four Counties, namely, Laurens, Chester, York and Spartan burg, where acts of violence have been com? mitted on both sides. The whites and blacks are nearly equally divided in population, and the carpet-bag rule, by which the negro is for? cibly put over tho white man, has produced a bad, and even dangerous, state of feeling. The poor whites are mostly aggrieved at an op? pression which is intended to make them the inferiors of recent slaves steeped in ignorance and vice. Everything has been done to aggra? vate the laboring whites to outrage the social condition of their families. On the very eve of the last election Gov. Scott organized four? teen negro regiments and armed them with 7,400 Winchester rifles and 100,000 rounds of fixed ammunition. These regiments were dis? tributed in different parks of the State, and es? pecially where their presence would be most likely to excite bad blood. This proceeding was rendered more offensive by the fact that the whites, who had become alarmed, were re? fused the same privilege to protect themselves. I A company which had been in existence long before this time was disarmed and dis banded by the Governor. It is in proof before j this committee that negroes, disguised as Ku Klux, committed many outrages. The testi? mony given by the negroes was of the lowest kind, and utterly unworthy of belief. They were attracted by the fee of 5?2 per diem, and, in many cases, were evidently drilled for the occasion. At Spartanburg numbers of them were congregated in the post office while waiting to be called as witnesses, and doubtless, learned the lesson which was afterwards re? hearsed substantially in the same words. Of the various negroes who pretended to have been punished, but one was stripped; and one white man at Columbia, who, while claim? ing to be a refugee from terror, was holding an ofhee there at the expense of the State. His fictitious wound had been healed with that })laster. In the Radical statement, it is broad y alleged that ten negroes were taken from the jail in Union and murdered by n armed band, but the facts connected with this transaction are all intentionally suppressed for effect. They were as follows: A company of some twenty-five armed negroes appeared in that neighborhood and openly announced thoir in? tention to shoot the first white man they should meet Soon after a poor drayman named Ste? phens, with one arm, who was universally re? garded as a worthy and nmiablo man, was driv? ing along the road with a barrel of whiskey in his cart. He was stopped by this band of ruffi? ans and the whiskey demanded. He told them that it was not his property, but gave them a flask of his own and started. After going a short distance the negroes fired at his cart and struck it in several places. A man who had joined Stevens in the road, tied for his life, and he himself seeing the armed negroes in pursuit, abandoned tho cart and sought refuge in a neighboring cabin. He was followed by the wretches, and against the efforts of the negro woman, whose humble shelter he had Bought, and his own, ho was taken out After drawing lots, five of the gang took him into the woods J and riddled his body with balls. The perpe? trators of this outrage were arrested and put in ] tho Union jail, but before being secured, they killed the Deputy Sheriff, Smith, who served J tho process. Suddenly a negro came from Columbia with what purported to be a writ of habeas corjws 1 from the Radical Judge Thomas, at Columbia, j but attested in no proper form. The Sheriff called into counsel the leading lawyers in order j V. determine what course he should pursue in j regard to this informal and irreguh.r requisi- j tion, which bore no evidence of genuineness, I and came in an envelope of the Ac ams' Ex- j press Company. Meantime, the news spread, and a vigilance committee roused into indicrna- j tion, knowing how Governor Scott had pardon? ed the worst criminals by hundreds, and be lieving it to be a trick to carry off the murder? ers, determined to administer stern justice j themselves by making an example to check this outlawry. They took tho prisoners out of jail by force and executed them summarily. One of the number was released by the decla? ration of a white man that he was believed to be innocent of the atrocious crime of which the others were guilty. While this act of ven? geance is deprecated, the extraordinary provo? cation and tho alarm created by the armed blacks, as well as their violence, must be con? sidered in connection with it. The other state? ments might be exposed with equal effect, but this illustration is sufficient for the present purpose. One of the principal witnesses, named Owen, on cross examination, admitted himself to be a thief. Congressman Wallace, who was elected first by the House of Representatives, and then by stuffed ballots, in a District with 5,000 Demo? cratic majority, followed the committee every? where, and was one of the active managers in 1 getting up testimony. The affair in which he figured at Yorkville, and which was tele? graphed all over the country as a gross out? rage, exhibits the purpose to magnify and ex? aggerate for political eifect. He was seated next to Mr. Stevenson, of the committee, at the hotel table, when a man named Berry, who formerly had a feud with Wallace, entered in a state of intoxication. Discovering his old enemy, he seized a pitcher of milk and threw it at him, whereupon Wallace drew a revolver and would have fired, but for tho intervention of those present. This was the extent of that outrage, and llerry, when sobered, sought to I make every atonement, as tho citizens did who were injured by his reckless conduct. There is no political feeling of any kind in the unfortunate disturbances which have oc? curred in these few Counties of South Carolina. They result from mal-administration, corrup? tion, robbery, carpet-bagging, and especially among the poor laboring white men, from a wicked purpose on the part of the authorities I and Ihc Legislature to assert black supremacy and degrade them with negro rule; That is with them, perhaps, tho real and most serious difficulty. It is a question of race, and which, as the government of South Carolina is now administered, and as sustained by Federal power, threatens tho gravest conseqnenceS. The white mechanic and laborer, when he finds tho worst criminal protected and pardon? ed, the law an engine of persecution, political power abused in order to oppress him with ne? gro domination and to outrage his wife and children, will resist, be the sacrifice what it may. He may be uneducated and plain, but he is still American and proud of his race. Congressional Oratorn of tho Past. How well I remember some of the orators of other days?the men of the generation succeed? ing Andrew Jackson 1 The South always pre? dominated in fascinating and plausible rhetoric. Winter Davis, of Maryland, was at once a logi? cian and a declaimer. His sharp tenor voice, his incisive sentences and ready wit, his fine figure, were admirably reinforced by acute rea? soning powers and admirable legal training. A rare specimen of the same qualities was J. P. Benjamin, of Louisiana, now a practitioner before the queen's bench in London. His pret? ty, Jewish face, his liquid tones, and easy enun? ciation, contrasted well with his skill and his accuracy as a student. Pierre Soule, a senator from the same State, was a dilFercnt, yet as pe? culiar a typo. His swarthy complexion, black, flashing eyes, and Frenchified dress and speech, made him one of the attractions of the Senate. He is now in his grave, after a strangely event? ful and novel career. He was an artfficial man, brilliant in repartee, yet subject to fits of mel? ancholy?impetuous yet reserved, proud but polite?in one word, such a contradiction as Victor Hugo, with a vast fund of knowledge and a deposit of vanity which was never ex? hausted. He was a ready-made secessionist when tho rebellion came, and yet his light shone feebly in that dark conspiracy. Virgin? ia always had a supply of good speakers.? Thomas H. Bailey, with his gold spectacles and ambrosial locks, and his southern idiom, a com Jound of the negro and the scholar; Charles ames Faulkner, with his pleasant smile, dandy dress and flowering phrases; James M. Mason, with his Donibey diction and pompous pre? tence ; R. M. T. Hunter, with his quiet and careful conservatism ; Roger A. Prior, with his impetuous and dazzling temperament?these were all first-class speakers, though as distant as their own faces. The noisiest man in the immediate ante-war Congress was George S. Houston, of Alabama; the most quarrelsome was Keitt, of South Carolina; the best tem? pered, Orr of the same State; the most acrid, George W. Jones of Tennessee; the jolliest Senator Jere Clemens of Alabama; the mos! supercilious, Senator Slidel of Louisiana; the most genial, Senator Anthony Kennedy of Ma land ; and the boldest and coarsest, Wigfall of Texas. Breckenridgc was in many respects a true orator, and seemed to copy much from Clay and Crittendcn. Jefferson Davis was al? ways a capital dialectician, not strong in argu? ment, but always stern in convictions. Ham? mond of South Carolina had a good presence and a persuasive tone, but was not a great man. Toombs of Georgia was tho stormy petrel, of? ten grand as a declaimer, and always intoler? ant, dogmatic, and extreme. He was as vio? lent in 1850, when he was a Unionist, as he was in 1SG0, when he bccaxie a secessionist.? J. W.Forney. DisnrcruTAiiLE Business:.?In theftngry ex? citement and passion of war, it is not surprising that men should disregard the amenities of life and commit acts generally which they would not perform in peace. It was to be expected, J for example, that after Napoleon's downfall, i the enraged French people should seizo with avidity upon all his private documents and cor? respondence, and spread them before the world. The right of overhauling and publishing the official papers of the vanquished is generally I conceded to the victor. j There are, however, no circumstances which will justify one person in eliciting information from another under the promise of secrecy, or on his honor as a gentleman, and then putting such information in print Alexander H. Ste? phens announces that his viows on the situa? tion, published a few days since, were commu? nicated to a correspondent, who had paid his respects to him, enjoyed his hospitality, and promised that whatever was said should be re farced as strictly confidential. If this charge ^ e true?and it has not yet been refuted?then ! the correspondent in question, whoever he may be, has forfeited his right to be considered as a gentleman or to be admitted into the presence of gentlemen. The modern interviewer brings disgrace up? on journalism, and those newspapers which employ him, or give him a quasi recognition, compromise both themselves and the profession. By how much tho press will conform to the rules and customs prevailing among gentlemen, by so much will it increase its influence.? When, on the contrary, it ceases to be honora blo, and plays that part of the eavesdropper and the spy, it must expect to receive no more respect or consideration than do these odious representatives of humility. What our political journals particularly re? quire at this time, is that nice sense of honor and appreciation of propriety which led Do Tocqucvillc to write, in his "Democracy in America," of "interviews" held with distin? guished Americans: "All these confidential communications were recorded by me as Ire received them ; but they will never go beyond my portfolio. I prefer to weaken the effect of my statements, than to add my name to the list of* travelers who repay by mortification and embarrassment the generous hospitality they have received."' This language should be framed and suspended in every reporter's room. ?Hearth and Home. Cotton Seep Oil?Which a few years ago was comparatively unknown, is rapidly becom? ing an article of commerce. By itself its uses are limited, but when mixed with other oils it acquires all their properties and answers all purposes for which they arc used. Mixed with whale oil it is used for burniug, and reduces the price of the original commodity. With linseed oil it is used for mixing painters'colors, and with lard oil it becomes a lubricator. It is also used upon the table as a dressing for salad, in place of olive oil, but those who use it sel? dom know it. For several years before this ar? ticle became known to commerce, large quanti? ties of it were shipped to France in a crude state. There it was refined and sent back to this market, whore it found a ready sale as ol? ive oil. N?w, however, it is sold openly, and the part intended for home consumption is re? fined in this city. The finest and purest cotton seed oil comes from Providence.?Ncxo York Bulletin. ? There is dew on one flower and not on an' other, because one opens its cups and takes it in, while the other closes itself and the drop runs off. God rains his goodness and mercy as wide spread as tho dew, and if wc lack them it is because we will not open our heart to re? ceive them. Greenville District Conference. The members of this body convened in Wal? halla July 27, 1871. Walhalla is the county town of Oconee. and is beautifully situated but a few miles from the foot of the mountain. The houses are built along a straight and wide street, which begins at the depot and reaches to the western limits of Walhalla. On this street are three villages?West Union, Midway and Walhalla. If one-end could-be tacked down and the other wound round it, three places would be thrown into ohq, and the whole made more convenient. Not being able to obtain the services of ? Bishop, the Rev. R; P: Franks, Presiding El? der of the District, occupied the chaijrisand discharged its duties with the ease and dignity of an experienced Epkeopos, Fifty-three del egates answered to their names. Rev. Wi A, Hodges was elected Secretary. The reports from the charges showed tho church toTte in good condition in ;<ome sections, and a gradual improvement in all respects throughout the District. The usual committees having been raised, the discussions elicited by their reports were interesting, earnest and calculated to do good. Among the visitors present, were Dr. Shipp, President of Wofford College; Rev. Wim Martin, Agent for Washington Street Church, and Rev. E. A. Bolles, Agent of the American Biblo Society. They faithfully represented their several interests. The election for delegates to the Annual Conference resulted as follows: R. S. Hill, H. M. Prince, Rev. T. B. Mauldin, L. B. Aus? tin. Reserves: S. C. Clyde, G. W. Anderson, Dr. C. L. Gaillard, R. W. Simpson. The Methodist Church in this town is a small and an inferior building. A beautiful lot, situated about the centre of the longstreet, will soon be secured, on which the congregation purposes to erect a large and handsome church. Public worship with us was confined to two glaces?the Court House and the Methodist hurch. The members of the Conference were hospitably entertained by a part of the popu? lation. The services of the church were well attended, the preaching was earnest and to the point, and the results are good. Ten professed to find peace in believing, ten applied for church membership, and such was the interest that the services were protracted. Sunday was a day of special privilege and blessing. A delightful meeting for prayer and conversation on personal religion was held in the Court House at 9 o'clock a. m. Dr. Shipp preached an eloquent and searching sermon on the witness of the Spirit, at 11, In the same place. A large and cheering Sunday school meeting was held in the afternoon. Rev. Wil? liam Martin preached at night.?Christian Neighbor. Death of Hon. John Slidell.?A brief cable despatch from London announces the death of Hon. John Slidell, at the age of seventy-eight years. It has been just three months since the death of Hon. James M. Ma? son, with whose name that of Mr. Slidell will always be associated. Mr. Slidell was a native of New York, but removing to New Orleans in early life, he there identified himself with the South, and attained ereat distinction at the bar. He was appointed United States District At? torney for Louisiana under President Jackson, was frequently elected to the Legislature, and was a Representative in Congress from 1843 to 1S45. He was then sent by President Polk ?S Minister to Blexico to negotiate the settlement of questions then in dispute, but his mission proving fruitless, he returned early in 1S46. In 1853 he was chosen United States Senator, which position he held up to the breaking out of the late war. On retiring from that body, he predicted, in a memorable speech, the ruin of American commerce in case war was forced upon the South. In the fall of 1861 he was despatched by the Confederate Government as Commissioner to France, together with Mr. i Mason, who was appointed in the same capacity, to England. Sailing from Charleston, they ran I the blockade, and embarked at Havana on the English steamer Trent? This vessel was boarded at sea by Capt. Wilkes, of the United States steamer San Jacintc, who arrested both commissioneis and their secretaries, and they were placed in confinement at Fort Warren, Boston harbor. On the demand of the British Government, however: they were soon after re? leased and permitted to depart for Europe. Since the close of the war Mr. Slidell has re? sided principally abroad. noKSES in Summer.?Farm work during the hot summer months requires only the lightest harness. Wooden collars arc now used with great comfort to the horse. In the city of New York the harness worn by the street- rail? road horses is as scant as is consistent with the work they have to perform. No breeching is used, and the hip-taj^s are dispensed' with. Teams may often be seen plowing'in the hot days of July and August in the same harness they wore during the winter. This is unneces? sary, nay some times it amounts to positive cruelty. Remove every superfluous strap, take away the back-strap crupper-band, and let the air circulate freely around the body. At night, when work is over, wash the sweat from the legs and thighs of the horse; a dash of wa? ter on his flanks would be grateful to him. Let his stable be airy and clean, with a bed of clean straw. Kindness to these serviceable animals is the truest economy. Besides, we feel better when our horses are made comfortable; the sensation is akin to that derived from the doing of a be? nevolent action. Sensitive man cannot see a horse sweating under and galled by a heavy harness during the intense heat of a summer's day, without sympathy and pity, nor can he re? tire to rest with an easy conscience, knowing that his faithful servants in the stable are im? properly cared for and suffering. "The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast." Giui-s Beware.?Girls beware of transient young men. Never softer the addresses of a stranger. Recollect that one good Farmer's boy, or industrious Mechanic, is worth all the floating 1bps in the world. The allurements of a dandy Jack, with a shoe brush over his up? per lip, a gold chain around his neck, a walk? ing-stick in his paw, a cent cigar in his mouth, some honest tailor's coat on his back, and brain? less though fancy skull, never can make up the loss of a good father's home, a good mother's counsel, and the society of brothers and sisters; their aifections hist, while that of such young man is lost in the decline of a honey-moon. This is true. To Stot Bleeding.?It is said that bidding from wounds on man or taast may be stopped by a mixture of wheat flour and common salt, in equal parts, bound on with a cloth. If the bleeding is profuse, use a large quantity, say from one totbrce pints. It may be left on for hours, or even days if necessary. The person that gave one of our exchanges this receipt says: "In this manner T saved the life of a horse which was bleeding from a wounded ar? tery ; the bleeding ceased in live minutes after the application."