University of South Carolina Libraries
HOYT & CO., Proprietors. ANDERSON 0. H? S. C., THURSDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 24, 1872. VOLUME VHX~NO. 16. THE DOCTOR'S HEXE,. ? - Milly Roselyn stood up very straight and looked her lover in the face, "II that is your opinion of me, you had bet? ter go and marry Martha Ladd," she said, toss? ing her black curls. ?'I don't want Martha Ladd, I want you," Martin Elston responded, a little sadly. .' Milly pouted. . "That is no reason you should not want me to make this visit." "Visit?" echoed Martin, almost reproachful? ly, '^jrou know the talk is of your staying a year if you like it." "Perhaps I shan't like it, who knows ?" and Milly locked her round, white arms in his, as they stood by the gate, and slyly pinched his ear. "My darling," he smiled, looking fondly down at her, "if you should forget me."" . <xWelL if I should, what-then ?" she laughed \ saucily. ~ "Nbthing'to you, of course," was the gloomy answer. MiHy Roselyn made a little grim mace. *See here now, Martin," she said, "I'm going to my uncle's, and I mean to stay a year if I choose. But I'm not such an empty-headed, empty-hearted girl as to forget one friend when Ifi.nd others. There, you needn't look gnm because I'say friend. You know what I mean." ? And Milly stood on tic toe to put a kiss on his half averted cheek. - He turned swiftly and caught her to him passionately. "I won't say another word," he said, "I'm a jealous simpleton." ' The next morning Milly went to New York. and.?a& jeceived by her cousins with, outward cordiality and inward discontent. They were three marriageable young ladies of moderate personal attractions, soured in temper by the continual struggle they were compelled to make to "dress like other people," ana not at all in? clined to look with favor oa interlopers, as they in their hearts considered Milly. Mr. Bertrand had privat; and special reasons for inviting Milly to his house, and perhaps if , he had confided his plans to his wife and ^daughters, they might have thought it worth their while to conciliate the little country girl. As it was, Martin Elston would have been well cured of his small jealousies if he could have seen Milly among these scenes, to which she had looked forward wi ih. such keen autici-1 nations. . In the first place Milly's wardrobe was very far from being the stylish array considered in- J dispecsible; and in the second, Milly herself, though a very sensible girl, and a very pretty one, was too unfamiliar with the ways of the fashionable world she had come among, to ap? pear at ease at once. The remarks of her aunt and cousins, who scarcely, attempted to conceal their ill-humor, were not calculated to lessen hex embarrassment, or put her . any more at. ease. Mr. Bertrand, perceiving something amiss, made prodigious effort and. bestowed upon his ] wife a sum of money to get Milly some clothes, auch as other people wear. Mrs. Bertrand spent the money for her own girls and made over their old dresses for Milly. She tried leaving Milly at home when the rest went out, but the autocratic head of the family one evening found his niece crying all by herself in a corner of the nursery and find ing that that was the custom, fell into a tower-1 ing passion about it, and afterward Milly was arrayed in her cousins' cade-over finery and regularly tucked away in the most out-of-tbe way corner of the grand assemblages which her fashionable relatives frequented. They had to account lor her in some respect able manner to their styliih acquaintances, and as they were ashamed of the truth, and afraid j of a he outright, they said a little and looked j the rest, and everybody saw through them and sneered at them as much as they aid at little Milly, whose chief fault after all was that in spite of everybody she retained a sort of wild rose prettiness and sweetness that her detract? ors could not have imitated if they had tried. Now and then - some masculine fashionable whould seek an introduction to pretty Milly, but Mrs. Bertrand had always some excuse ready. The poor child was so diffident or she was not feeling well, this evening, or she had] promised her husband, if he would let Milly ] come, she should not be troubled unless she ] liked, she was so young, so unaccustomed, and ( aH that ;] Fashionable life,, however, in spite of her j triajs, was some time in palling upon Milly. She merely assured.Dr. Hooke, an old gentle? man whose acquaintance ?be made without any { of her aunt's assistance, chat she had come to Keif York to enjoy herself, and she meant to I do so. , "And to catch a bean, too, eh ?" smilingly j queried' the I doctor with the privilege of his { years, and looking as though he would like to pinch her dimpled cheeks.. "JSo, sir," responded Milly ,'with demure de- ] eisten and au alarming blush that made ner companion look more quizzical than before. "You don't mean to say," he questioned, 'that you've left any one back at the farm] there that is worthy to be mentioned in the same day with such faul t 'ess specimens of man- ] hood as these ?" indicating the white-eravated and moustached exquisites upon the floor.. Milly's red lips curled the least in the world, and a ray of wonderful significance shot from ] her dark, bright eyes. "That means that yon have," he said with a comically resigned shrug of his bent shoul? ders. "But how would your wonderful somebody appear here?" "I'm very sure I shouldn't be ashamed of him, any more than he would of me," asserted Milly proudly, and blushed deliriously again at the next moment, at her own simplicity. Dr. Hooke laughed as though he would go into spasms. "You might both suffer by comparison with such fine people as these," he said at last. "Do you think so?" Milly replied with dig? nity. She was not to be betrayed any more. "How did you get acquainted with Dr. ] Hooke?" asked Mrs. Bertrand as they were going home. "He introduced himself," Milly replied, with the least hint of curtuess. She was somewhat a spoiled child at home, and was besides a little suspicious of her aunt. "Dr. Hooke is an old bachelor," suggested one of Milly's cousins significantly. Milly did not vouchsafe her a look. "A rich old bachelor,, too," remarked Mrs. Bertrand, in the same tone. There was a grand ball the\ following week, quite up town, rather farther than Mrs. Ber trand had yet been able to penetrate indeed, and it was only by Dr. Hooke's solicitation that she received tickets for herself, her daughters and Milly- But she did not guess that, and had made her arrangements to leave Milly at home, pacifying her husband with the assur? ance that Milly did not care, and that if she went she must have a dress, at which she was sure he would demur, and be did. But, strange to relate, about six o'clock in the evening came a box carefully" directed to Miss Milly Roseryn, cart of Jas. Bertrand, and this box on examination proved to contain the most lovely dress, shoes and ornaments complete that Milly, at least, had ever seen in her life. Billows up? on billows of some diphanous texture, looped with lilies of the valley, and a wreath of the same exquisite blossoms for her hair. "Of coarse Milry must go now," sighed Mrs. Bertrand; ""but who could have sent It?" If Milly had the faintest suspicion, she kept it to nerself; hut now could sheTiave 1 Miss Milly had eyes, and she saw her cous? ins* chagrin in their looks. She did not mean to feel triumphant in view of the many even? ings before, when she had gone, shabby .beside their gorgeousness, but she was only a human woman after all. If Milly owed her beautiful dress to any one who was at the ball, he must have felt himself amply rewarded by the picture she was. She glowed and sparkled in.her: hew finery like a freshly opened rosebud after a shower, and when Dr. Hooke assumed triumphant posses? sion of her, two rumors took wing and flew neck and neck beside each other through the crowded rooms. One was to the effect that she was to be Dr. Hooke's heiress, the other that she was going to marry him. The eccentric old bachelor was widely and popularly known. This was but the beginning of wonders. For the next party of note Milly received another dress complete. But to the consterna? tion of her aunt and cousins, she utterly re-1 fused to wear it, and actually went (for they dared not leave her at home,) in an old dress. The fashionables stared of course, and Dr. Hooke laughed like a crazy fellow. All the evening he chuckled over the old dress, but Milly would make no promise whatever for the future, and declared she would eend both dresses back to him. She knew very well it was he who sent them. Upon which Dr. Hooke flatly denied the whole business, and as Milly did not believe him capable of an uu- ] truth, she was obliged to believe him. The next morning Dr. Hooke made formal Erepositions to Mr. Bertrand for the hand of is neice. Mr. Bertrand referred him. of course, to her j father and herself, but he went horn s brimfnll j of news. To his astonishment Milly declared she would as soon marry her grandfather as Dr. Huoke, and she persisted in it too, and wrote to Dr. Hooke to that effect at once. The consternation of her aunt and cousins, their amazement at such indifference to a man of Dr. Hooke's wealth, was something indes cd-1 :bable. Dr. Hooke himself did not however seem in the least concerned. He called upon Milly a I few eveutngs after, smiling and quizzical as I UBual; and arm iu arm with him he brought a young gentleman that Milly had some ado to keep from acting ridiculously about, she was so glad to see him. Indeed, in her excitement she did not notice that Dr. Hooke called him nephew, and had to be specially notified of a faet strange to her, by the Doctor's proud and roguish repetition of? "My nephew, Martin Elston, Miss Roselyn." "He is making fun of me, is he not ?" asked Milly of the smiling Martin. "No, I am a sister's son." "And never to tell me of it," she exclaimed reproachfully. "My nephew and my heir, Miss Roselyn; so you see what you have lost by not marrying j me," teased the doctor. "You are a deliberate cheat," declared Milly I emphatically. "I don't believe you meant a word of it. A pretty situation I should have been in if I had { accepted you." j Dr. Hooke only chuckled. Martin gave her a beaming glance. j The best part of it was that Martin Elston was an orphan, and his uncle had been in search of him for years. A chance word dropped by Milly early in her acquaintance with Dr. Hooke, had furnished the clue for which he had sought so long in vain. The rest had been the doctor's own experimenting to discover what sort Of a wife Martin was go? ing to get. And if he had not been suited I there is no telling what might have happened. He told the truth about the dresses, though. He had put it into Martin's head to send them. Mr. Bertram had calculated, through Milly, to persuade her father to sell his farm and in? vest with him in merchandise ud? speculation. But Mr. Roselyn's disinclination to such an ar-1 rangemeat was invincible. Perhaps Milly could j have told why. Perhaps not. The Deess op Civilized Womejt.?I do declare that I think it would be better to die and get out of torment at once than to have to rise every morning for some forty or fifty years and box one's body up in a sort of compressed armor, hang weights to one's hips ana more weights upon the head, which last are support? ed by the roots of the hair; put one's feet into shoes a number too small, and not in the right shape, and with heels like stilts; and then set about doing the whole duty of woman with a cheerful face and a spry air, for from fifteen to seventeen mortal hours out of the twenty-four? That there are so many women who are not frightened into a decline at such a prospect, and that they bravely undertake to do it?nay, more, that they even dream that under such disadvantages they can work Bide by side with nnshackledman, and they do not die iu trying to do it, certainly says much for their courage, but very little for their common sense. A man's dress to a great extent is fashioned for comfort He has contrivances for suspend? ing the weight of his clothes from his shoulder. If the east wind blows he can turn up his coat collar, button himself up snugly, slouch his hat over his eyes, thrust his hands into his pockets and brave the weather. But imagine a woman removing her hat or bonnet from the angle at which fashion says she must wear it on account of the weather, or turning any of her "fixtures" up to protect her neck and throat, or buttoning up anything that was un? buttoned before, or sticking her hands into her pockets I She would be taken for an improper character out on a mild spree, or for an escaped inmate of a lunatic asylum, should she endeav? or in any impromptu arrangement of her ha? biliments to save her health.?Science of Health. Feed the Soil.?Plow under the clover for a good crop of wheat. Don't try the old worn out plan of hoping to get much from the soil and putting little on it in return. A generous soul grows fat; so a generous farmer, generous with manure and clover, and not greedy to get all the strength of the soil, will eventually gain a competence, will rejoice in the luxuriance of his crops, in. the increasing fertility and pro? ductiveness of his rich acres. Then take a little pride in bettering the ground, in enhanc? ing the value of the farm, while looking for the crops yielding the golden returns. Be sat? isfied with a few less acres of grain, but make these few bring the great crops which pay.? Enchange. ? Josh Billings says : "Success don't konsist in never making blunders, but in never making the same one the eccond time." I Additional Kind Words for Willlaraston. In speaking of Williamston, in our last issue, we made brief mention of some of her most interesting features, but about these and much else we left a great deal unsaid! A kind of quiet pervades everything there which brings to mind all the freshness and beauty of rural life and the numbling of the dray, the shrill neigh of the "iron-house," the bustle, and confusion of travel forcibly recaU .the memory of smoke begrimed, tear-stained, ever-active city life. At the depot, life in its active cast may be seen ?-three hundred yards away one may "be "Shut up In measnreless content." The bright, bracing. atmosphere, distant ranges of hills enshrouded with, mist, autumn nodding over the yellow plains, and the witche i ry of the blue sky made up a matchless scene of enchanting beauty. And, then the people moved along with such liveliness that we be? gan to feel healthy ourselves and the desire came back, however childish or undignified it might seem, to go through the same old routine j of exercises which marked our youthful days; to play Wolf, who seated the Heights Abraham, as all the children know, and fed covered with glory; or jump with a hop, step and a jump ut?we dream. There was a kind of elastic? ity lent to our spirits, and a bounding, glad? some, joyous something within, which made contentment?but leaving out all imagination we may justly ascribe the wealth of William ston, and the health of her people to climate; for with all these and many more things in life, climate has everything to do. Dr. Prime, speaking of "the luxury of living," makes cli? mate "mark the difference in nations, and tell oh character, religion, letters and art." . Heal estate has increased greatly in value during the last year or two, and lots which were offered before the war at $250, now de? mand a much higher price, and sell readily at $2,000. The residences in the town are mostly of cottage style and there is a pleasing same? ness about them. All are creditable alike to the inmates and the village?and their white walls glistening and gleaming through thick surrounding shrubbery, in the bright sunshine, made up a very pretty picture indeed. One blessed privilege is enjoyed at William? ston, of which few places are possessed, and. that the privilege of "sitting under your own vine ana fig tree," free from the reminders of a giddy, thoughtless, heartless wife that "the larders empty, and there's nothing to eat." The market is very fine and is always supplied with every thing which the country around produces. Country produce brings a good, fair price, and the lands lying around the town are fine and fertile. One very beautiful feature of the place is the brook, at the foot of the hill, near the spring, which flows directly through town. It is not large but chatters a pretty song, and has so sung forever?a fit type of eternity thought we. An emblem of this dread reality is the ring?it has no end Not leas suggestive wo'.ld be a stream whose flow has never known cessa? tion. The stream is clear as crystal, smooth in its flow and the banks are clothed with rank growths of iron-wood and willlows. The spring of which we have already said something, is to the left of the depot as the train goes North, at a distance of three or four hundred yards. It is in a lot nicely shaded with water-oaks and surrounded by a neat white plank fence. In this enclosure has been erected a stand from which the orator may evolve his gas, and comfortable seats are ar? ranged at different intervals through the grounds where "ye lovers" of women and beau? ty can whisper soft tales of "I would like to marry." The spring is situated nearly in the centre of this enclosure, and the water conies up through a stone basin, chiselled and fash? ioned after the best manner. We made an at? tempt to ascertain the amount of water dis? charged by this spring in a day but, not having a hydrometrograph, we feel our estimate is wrong?it is two gallons per minute: 120 gal? lons per hour and 2,880 gallons per day! The spring was donated to the town by Allen Wil? liams, in honor of whose many acts of benefi? cence the town was called Williamston. The Female College is now carried on in the building formerly used as a hotel, but an effort is being made to change such order of things. The citizens have taken the matter in hand and intend erecting a house more suitable for a College building, and of more pretentious and elegant style. A meeting was held on Satur? day, the 5 th inst., to advance this laudable undertaking.. The College is now under the supervision of a Joint fetock Company com? poses of the best and most solvent men in the couniry, and men full of life, energy'and activ? ity. The capital stock of this company is lim? ited to $80,000 and the amount already sub? scribed $6.250. The estimated cost of the building, about to be constructed, with all the modern improvements and in the best style, is about $15,000. It will occupy a commanding position south of the spring, and will be in a high and healthy location. We hail with pleasure every enterprise put on foot for the ? good of the human race and the elevation of our cwn species.?Abbeville Medium. The Best Society.?"No company, or good company," was a motto given by a distin? guished man to ail his young friends. It was a motto he had always endeavored to follow as far as lay iu his power, and it was a very wise one. Another man, of high position in the world, mak-js it a rule to associate with high-minded, intelligent men, rather than with fashionable idlers; and he said he bad derived more intellectual improvement from them than from all the books he ever read. Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton often spoke of the great benefits he had derived from his visits to a particular family. Their works and exam? ple stimulated him to make the most of his f>owers. "It has given a color to my whole ife," he said. Speaking of his success at the university, he remarked, "I can ascribe it to nothing but my visits to this family, where I caught the infection of self improvement" Surely, if our visits have such an influence upon our characters for life, it should be a mat? ter of serious importance to ue in what families we allow ourselves to be intimate. Boys and girls form attachments very easily, and often with very little forethought. In this, as in all I things else, you should not fail to take advice of those who are older and wiser, and never, n evor choose for a friend one against whom you have been warned by those who dearly love you. There are people whose very presence seems to lift you up in a better, higher atmos? phere. Choose such associates whenever , in your power, and the more you can live in their society the better, for both mind and heart. "He that walketh with' wise men shall be wise; but a companion of fools shall be destroyed. ? Never allow six hours to pass without sleeping, or at least closiog the eyes, if but for ten minutes ait a time. The muscles of the eye, fatigued by the movements and the play of the physiognomy under the influence of laughter, astonishment, anger, etc., require oc? casional repose or they will retain their con? traction and cause wrinkles. ?y Experience in Banning Away. At thirteen years of age I was seized with a strong desire to run away. I can give no rea? son for wanting to do so, except that my imag? ination, which at that time was very active, pictured to me a most glorious career bv so doing. I did not contemplate this sudden change in my life without forethought; on the ..contrary, I had formed,numerous plans for its successful accomplishment. I intended to ob? tain most of my food by shooting such wild animals as I chanced to meet with, and as-1 was a good hunter for my age, I saw no danger of my being obliged to beg or starve. As I was used to camping out in all kinds of weath? er, I did not worry about how I should lodge. But the main obstacle to the enterprise was the probability of my being pursued by the sheriff, who might capture and bring me home in dis? grace. But I trusted this difficulty to fortune, which I fondly hoped would favor me. My home was a few miles from the -town of Medwayrin Maine, and my design was, on de? serting it, make my way through the mighty forests of that State, until I arrived in Canada. One night, it was the second of Jone, I de? termined to start on my long anticipated jour? ney. I had to go to bed in order to avoia sus? picion, and though I ordinarily have found it extremely difficult to keep awake, now sleep seemed an entire stranger tome. The doubts and uncertainties of my position began to mul? tiply, although I honestly wished them in ob-, livipn. Once I thought of giving up my wild plans for the future, but I concluded at last not to yield to what I then called my foolish thoughts. Finally, after I had kicked the bed-clothes off the bed for the sixth time, the clock struck twelve. I hastily dressed myself and prepared to make my exit from the house. I slept in the garret, while my parents were in the room directly under mine, which opened into a long, narrow entry through which I must pass before I could reach the ground floor. This was quite a serious obstacle in my way, for my father was a light sleeper. I began slowly to descend the stairs that led to the entry, but despite my utmost caution the boards on the stairs would creak, and in such a manner that my excited imagination persuaded me a half dozen times that I was discovered. On reaching the entry 1 paused a moment, so dangerous did the pas? sage of it seem to me. Overcoming my fears, however, I stealthily started forward, but when I came opposite tue door by which my parents' room was entered, I became more cautious than ever. Just as I was congratulating myself on the eminent success I was having, I hit the door-knob with my elbow. My father was in? stantly awakened." ""*"' "What is that noise ?" said he. "It is nothing but the cat," said my mother, who was aroused from her sleep. "I don't think it's the cat The noise doesn't sound as if it were made by one. I am going to get up and see what the cause of it is," an? swered my father. I was uncertain as to the course I ought to pursue. A hasty retreat or advance would most certainly betray me. While in this di? lemma, a brilliant thought happened to cross my mind. WKy should I not make believe I was a cat f I was an excellent mimic, especial? ly in imitating the mewing of a cat. In my desperate situation I could extricate myself from my present predicament. No time was to be lost, so I began to utter such sounds as I supposed a cat would with all possible dispatch. The ruse succeeded admirably, for I had the satisfaction of hearing my father say: "You were right It is nothing but the cat" After this narrow escape, I arrived in the kitchen.without any further trouble. I got my gun, powder and shot, and wrapped in a piece of paper enough food to last several days. I deemed it no more than proper to inform my parents of my departure in time to relieve their anxiety about me. I wrote them the fol? lowing note: My Dear Parents?I have concluded to run away. You will probably not see me for five or six years, until I get ricfi. Do not wor? ry about me. T shall get along all right. I shall write to you, but of course I must not in? form you of my place of residence. I hope I am not doing anything wrong.' From your af? fectionate son, Joshua. I read this over several times with great sat? isfaction, and, folding it up, placed it on the kitchen table. Taking my gun in hand I walked toward the door te leave the house, and I must confess' that it was hot without a tear that I did so. Suddenly I was startled from my mournful reflections by a loud knocking at the door. Of course I did not answer this summons, but went instead, with all possible speed, into the pantry, where I; concealed my? self behind the flour-barrel. In a few minutes I beard my father approaching. This did not give me much concern, for I supposed he would So directly to' the door, where he could learn ie business Of whoever was knocking outside. Alas, for-my'hopes-I He came to the pantry, opened the door, walked in and took up a cane that lay agai n'st the flour barrel. Heafterwards told me that he thought that the person at the door might be a robber, and therefore deemed it expedient to have some weapon of defence in his-bands. As my father stooped down to take up the cane he saw me squatted behind the barrel, and at first mistook me for a thief. "Come out here, sir," he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, while he raised his cane in a threatening manner. "Have mercy 1 It is me." I cried. For a moment he seemed lost in astonisment, but he presently recovered himself. "Go to bed and don't let me see you out of it again to-night You shall pay dearly for this in the morning," said he. The person who knocked at the door was a drunken straggler. In the morning I received a severe flogging, which soon dispersed the romantic dreams I bad cherished so highly the day before. Game Laws for South Carolina.?A club of prominent gentlemen at Charleston, S. C, has organized for the protection of game, and to procure the enactment of judicious game laws for that State. While we rejoice to see that a love of manly sport has not been entire? ly crushed out, but still smoulders beneath the ruins of that down-trodden community, we fear the efforts of this society are doomed to disappointment Where the negroes are the dominant race, it cannot be expected. Cuff is born a hunter, and when in slavery, the severest labor in rice or corn field, from sunrise to dark, would not prevent him from passing part of the night in the pursuit of "possum'* and "coon," or, in default of these, of his master's or his neighbor's hogs and poultry. Now that a wider field is open to him, and that a gun is to be found in every cabin, it is idle to suppose he will obey any law or submit to any regulation for the protec? tion of game. We remember since the termination of the war, counting, in a ride of twenty miles on the tow-path of tue James Eiver and Kenawba Canal, nine burly blacks with guns in their hands, hunting for game in fields where the com was literally rotting for want of harvest? ing. And this was in Virginia. What must it be in poor South Carolina?? Turf, Field and Farm.' How a Missouri Farmer Lost all his Mar? riageable Daughters. In Notoway county, Mo., there resides an old farmer, who appears to have suffered severely in what most persons will be disposed to be? lieve a very foolish cause. Living in a sort of semi-barbaric style, on the verge of a pictu? resque wood, and having spent more than his neighbors in the education of a large family of daughters, he became accustomed to regard it as impertinent for the sons of other farmers to visit his house with matrimonial intentions. To euch an extent did he cultivate this opinion that the daughters themselves, fearful that they might be deemed to be old maids, grew impa? tient, and resolved to encourage eligible bach? elors on their own account. The courtship was all the more romantic and inspiring through having to be done at secret places in the wood. Signals were exchanged, so that the lovers might not be surprised at their trysting placej. This system was continued for a con? siderable time without any hope that the "stern f)arent" could be brought to reason. Ultimate y, to vary the monotony, it was considered de? sirable that one of the daughters should elope by way of experiment, to see how the old man would be effected. The result was a shooting match, which ended in a compromise; and the marriage of the disobedient fair one with the youth of her choice. The success of the scheme so charmed the second daughter and her lover that they in a reasonable time afterward, resolved to go and do likewise. As in the first instance, they too, were discovered, and the shooting scene was re-enacted. Happily for the combatants, some friends interposed, and the affair terminated without either having been wounded seriously, the lovers being in due course made happy. After it came to be regarded as a risky thing to undertake the courtship of the remaining daughters; but, as the young men were not wanting in either courage or enterprise, further elopements were planned and successfully car? ried out, until the old man was robbed of all his treasures, with the exception of one, and she was only spared to him by reason of her tender years. However, misses of thirteen and fourteen summers do not take long to bloom into marriageable young ladies, and in this case, it so happened, proved no exception. Be? ing the last of the family, she was looked upon as the greatest prize, and as a consequence, the competitors were more numerous. The day of elopement arrived at last. Taking advantage of the temporary absence of the watchful old man, the undutiful daughter jumped into the buggy of the most venturesome of her lovers, ana started at break-neck speed for the Iowa line. As ill-luck would have it, however, the enemy was encountered on the way, and what promised to be a deadly contest commenced with revolvers. The old man dismounted and used his horse as a shield against the murder? ous bullets that were aimed at him. The young girl took refuge under the seat of the buggy, and called to tier valiant lover to "sail in and cripple old dad." After such an admonition, as may be expected, the lover felt stronger for the battle, and literally "rained bullets around his antognist." Not being able to get a chance at him with? out destroying the "shield," the inglorious youth resolved to shoot through the body of the.horse. The plan succeeded so well that the old man, having bad one of his fingers on his right band carried away, threw his pistol upon the road: Sharp as thought, the lover reseated himself in the buggy and never drew a rein un? til he arrived at the gate of a magistrate, where the pair were united in wedlock. It will be remembered that the fights which pre? ceding all elopements in the family invariably ended in the forgiveness and reconciliation, al? though the readiness of the old man to make terms was, in point of fact, not attributable to a sudden change of sentiment. He would still have vengeance, if he could, but, finding the intended son-in-law wounded, while he had only a scratch or two, he thought it better to arrange matters. In the case of the last daugh? ter the circumstances were entirely different This time it was the old man who came off second best; and, in order to balance the ac? count, he procured a warrant for the arrest of the young man, on a charge of attempt to mur? der. The bride has since been found without the bridegroom?the whereabouts of the latter, as she asserts, being entirely unknown to her. Now, it is quite evident from the unhappy ex? perience of these young persons, that it is not always good policy to cripple the pursuing parent in the hands, for tbis may only impede the progress an hour at most, whereas the slightest touch of a ballet lower down, say at the cap of the knee, or the ankle, can be relied on to provide him with as much as he can at ? tend to for several weeks. If there are any other families addicted to the queer practices ?above described, this may be worth attention. New Washing Process.?The injurious action of soda upon linen, has given rise to a new method of washing, which has been exten? sively adopted iu Germanv, and has been in? troduced into Belgium. The operation consists in dissolving two pounds of soap in about three gallons of water, as hot as the hand can bear, and adding to this one tablespoonful of turpen? tine and three of liquid ammonia; the mixture must then be well stirred, and-the linen steep? ed in it for two or three hours, taking care to cover up the vessel which contains it as nearly hermetically as possible. The clothes are af? terwards washed out and rinsed in t'rie usual way. The soap and water may be re-heatcd and used a second time, but in that case, half a tablespoonful and a tablespoonful of ammonia are then to be added. The process is said to cause a great economy of time, labor and fuel. The linen scarcely suffers at all, as there is little necessity for rubbing, and its cleanliness and color are perfect. The ammonia and turpen? tine, although their detersive action is great, have no injurious effect upon the linen ; ana while the former evaporates immediately, the smell of the latter is said to disappear entirely during the dryiag of the clothes. ? An exchange paper says that in an obitu? ary notice, that the deceased had been for sev? eral years a bank director, notwithstanding which, he died a Christian, and universally respected. ? At Mankato, Minn., a woman was accused of throwing a baby into the river. The river was raked by an incensed community, and a dead cat brought to light. ? Women make a great mistake who want their lovers to see in them the end of all beauty and loveliness; they should rather try to make windows of themselves, to let eternal beauty that is above and beyond, shine through them. ? No ornament is so appropriate for the dinner table or mantel as a vase of flowers. If a small quantity of spirits of camphor is placed in the water contained in the vase the color and freshness of the flower will remain for a much longer period. ? A small quantity of carbolic acid is re? commended to be used in whitewash and in paste for laying paper hangings. It will repel cockroaches ana all other insects, and also neutralize the disagreeable odor consequent Upon the decomposition of paste. Address of the National Democratic Execu? tive Committee. To the People of the United Stales: The Oc? tober elections are over. They enable us to form a tolerably accurate idea of the true po? litical situation of the country. In Georgia, we have to recount a victory for the Liberal ticket so unexampled as to take her out of the list of doubtful States, and practically to pronounce in advance the decis? ion of at least 125 votes in the electoral col? lege. To this number, it is only necessary to add sixty more votes to elect Greeley and Brown. In Pennsylvania, the distinguished Chair? man of the Liberal Committee has eloquently characterized the methods by which the result of the election there was accomplished. We commend his statement to the thoughtful at? tention of the country. In Ohio, despite most unprecedented gains for the Liberal-Democratic ticket, the Grant managers have carried the election by a redu? ced majority, having brought to the polls their entire reserve vote. Had our Democratic friends in certain localities of that great com? monwealth shown the same earnestness and activity, and enabled us like our enemies to record our entire strength, they would now be exulting over a brilliant victory. In Indiana, the Democratic and Liberal forces have achiev? ed a most important success over Pennsylvania tactics most unscrupulously employed by the Administration and its allies, showing thus that a free people, when aroused, know their rights and dare maintain them. Indiana has fairly demonstrated that she can neither be "bought nor bullied." The moral of these re? sults is that victory is still in plain view of our national ticket, and that energy aud courage will assure it. That victory must be won. If we mean to preserve free institutions on this continent, we must assure it The event in Pennsylvania, on Tuesday last, when considered in its causes, is the most ap? palling political catastrophe that has ever taken place in this country. Should the system through which this catastrophe was brought about be condoned by the people and foisted on the other States, it seals the doom of free? dom in America. A sad contrast it is, surely, that the city in which our republic was born, amid the anthems of a free people, should now be the first to toll the knell of its liberties. It is for the free, unbought people of all the States to calmly review the fearful crime Xinst suffrage in Pennsylvania, and to decide :ther it shall be repeated within their own borders. For the first time the system of free govern? ment and the sanctity of the ballot are really on trial in the United States. From this hour forward the preservation of the franchise in its integrity dwarfs all other issues. Let our friends in each of the States catch inspiration from the heroic conduct of our fellow-citizens in Georgia and Indiana; and from now till November let their struggle be manful and unceasing for liberty and an un? tainted ballot-box, for reform and an honest; administration of the Government. Augustus Schell, Chm'n. National Democratic Committee. Hnrrs to Travelers.?"Fat Contributor* gives the folk wing excellent rules to be ob? served by railroad passengers: Always attend to checking yourself. If you feel like swearing at the baggage master, check yourself. If you havn't a trunk full of clean clothes to check, you at least should be ade? quate to a check shirt When you vacate your seat for a moment leave a plug hat in the seat Some one will come along and sit down oh it, thereby pre? venting your hat from being stolen. Passengers cannot lay over for another train without making arrangements with the con* ductor. If a man has been on a "train" for a week or so, no conductor should allow him to lay over for another on any account I Ladies without escort in travelling should bo very particular with whom they become ac? quainted. They needn't be so particular with those with whom they are unacquainted. Keep your head and arms inside the car win? dows, if .you would keep your head and "carry arms." Never talk on politics, it encourages some "nimshl" to take a vote of the passengers. No gentleman will occupy more than one seat at a time, unless he be twins. A gentleman should not spit tobacco juice in the cars where there are ladies. He can let drive out of the car window while the train Ib at a station, if the platform is crowded. Always show your ticket whenever the con? ductor asks for it If you get out of humor about it, don't show it Never smoke in a car where there arc ladies. Get the conductor to turn the ladies out before lighting your cigar. Never use profane language in the car. Go out on the platform. Profanity is never thrown away on a brake man. If you cannot sleep yourself, do not disturb the "sleepers." Lookout for pickpockets. Pickpockets are never in the car, you know, as you have to look out for them. Provide yourself with sleeping berths before starting. No careful man will start on a jour? ney without a good supply of sleeping berths. [N. B. Those put up in flat bottles are the best, as they are easily carried in the pocket.j Always be at the railroad station in good time to take the train. Better be an hour too early than a minute too late, unless you are on your way to be hanged. Sheep Raising.?With our genial climate and short winters, and we may add large area of idle lands well adapted to sheep husbandry, it is indeed surprising that so little attention has heretofore been given to sheep raising as a source of profit When we calculate the trifling expense of wintering this stock in our climate, and indeed, the little trouble they are at any season, and consider that wool and mutton al? ways command a ready sale and a good price, it is easy to see that there is considerable mar? gin for profit We believe that our farmers would do well to turn their attention more to this stock, than to cattle. Their natural in? crease would pay all costs, and leave a profit over. We have every advantage as to climate, water, &c, that any section of the United States presents. In short, all that we seem to lack is a little experimenting on the partof our leading farmers. Here is a field for enterprise, and a chance for reaping a fine income on a small outlay. And we trust the time is not far distant when our hillsides and valleys shall be musical with the bleating of Southaowns and Merinos, and our transportation laden with this important article of trade?Rural Messenger. ? The following gem of purest ray serene in the way of obituary rhetoric comes "from the dark, unfathomed caves of the Lexington Cau? casian: "Her Alice Brannin, Lena Jacobs and Emma Ward; and her Bettie Vance, whoso sister angels, pining at her absence, recently floated down on jewelled pinions and bore her back to her native skies; have all been known from the great river to the sea, as pre-emineut ly lovely types of radiant young girlhood."