University of South Carolina Libraries
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LEGAL AD.irERTISiyG.-Vrc are compelled to require cash payments for advertising ordered by Executors, Administrators and other fiduciaries, and herewith append the rates for the ordinary notices, which will only be inserted when the money comes with the order: Citation?, two Insertions, .... $3.00 Estate Notices, three insertions, - - 2.00 Final Settlements, five insertions - - 3.00 TO CORRESPONDENTS?In order to receive attention, communications must be accompanied by the true name and address of the writer. Re? jected manuscripts will not be returned, unless the necessary stamps are furnished to repay the postage thereon. XS? We arc not responsible for the views and opinions of our correspondents. Ail communications should be addressed to "Ed- . itors Intelligencer," and all checks, drafts, money orders, &c. should be made parable to the order of HOYT <t CO., Anderson, S. C. ??giual torn BERKLEY HALL. by "la caroline.'* CHAPTER XVIII. "Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a mouldering string? i am ashamed through all my nature to have loved so slight a thing. My kind reader, let us take a retro? spective glance a few weeks previous to the occurrences related in the last chap? ter, and stop with me for a short time in one of the handsomest residences in the populous city of -, in one of the Northwestern States. It was the home of a well-known and gallant Federal officer and the then editor of a widely circulated newspaper, called "The Stand? ard of Liberty." And worthy indeed was it of its high-sounding title, so can? did, bold and intelligent was the spirit of its editorials, so fearless yet generous its criticisms, and withal perfectly free from the ribald gests and low persiflage which robs so many of our purest and ablest journals of their dignity and their power. Flying under Democratic colors, "The Standard of Liberty," with the stirring cry Excelsior, boldly lifted on high her glorious flag, and fought fear? lessly against great odds the people's battles, regardless of section. Men but half convinced, and still groping under the dark veil of prejudice and fanaticism which had for so many years blinded them to a right judgment of the vexed questions which had caused the land to flow with blood, and every hearthstone to reiterate the stern demand, "Where is Abel, thy brother?" gazed with admira? tion, ? although they held back from fol? lowing after the courageous young editor who, a mere boy in years, worked, they said, like a strong man in life's meridian splendor, feeling that to him a great work had been given, and. the period for its performance short. But one girlish heart conned the secret aright, and thrilled with conscious joy that her's had been the voice to awaken the intel? lectual giant to run his race, the Chris? tian hero to redeem his mistaken past. Although the young soldier was called "an eccentric man, an old fogy," all in? voluntarily paid the tribute of respect to one whose modest but fearless self respect, generous impulses and ardent affections savoured of the spirit of an . almost forgotten and chivalric age. Into his home of wealth and luxury, passing through lofty corridors and richly furnished chambers, adorned with beau? tiful pictures and rare statuary, we enter a small but handsome library, and there in its only occupant, the owner of all this wealth and fame, we recognize our old friend Hubert Gray. The few years which had passed since his farewell to Harry Maham at St. S ?depot had wrought but few changes in Col. Gray, and had we met him in the brilliant saloons of the beau-monde, pass? ing the light jest or the gay retort, we should have said that care?dull, plod? ding, wearing care?was a stranger * to the breast of fortune's favored child. But sitting there alone, his eyes sternly fixed upon two open letters which lay spread upon the table before him, his contracted brow, and lips firmly and painfully compressed, told a tale of wrong and suffering, and of a battle with his grief. Suddenly the proud head was bowed, and in a voice of reproaching sorrow he spoke: "Ah, woman! it is ever thus, since the dark tragedy of Paradise! in thee, so fair and yet so vain and uncer? tain, man worships but an ideal of truth and holiness! And, yet, without thee, Eden were no Paradise! Aud, alas, alas! in each earthly paradise the ser? pent's trail is found! Ah, Marion, Ma? rion ! are you in truth but a fair creation of my fondest, purest fancies? a dream of beauty which has vanished forever? Then away, away vain fancies and idle dreams! With my watchword, 'Duty,' I will spring to the combat, and gladly and fearlessly follow in duty's stern, unflinching lead, knowing that my re? compense is sure?'The joy which mixes man with Heaven!'" That the reader may understand and sympathize with the grief of our hero, we offer tor his perusal the open letters: Letter of Hubert Gray to Marion Ma? ham : -City, March-. More than two years have passed away since you and I, my dear Miss Maham, bade farewell at Berkley Hall. We parted?I a rejected suitor, grieved but not despairing, for upon my heart I bore (do you remember?) the motto: MlfU dexperandum." In the deep, dark tragedy which had clothed our land in mourning, you and I had both been actors and suf? ferers. But in the parts we were called upon to play a cruel fate (you will say a wise Providence, and I humbly bow man's fiuite reason to infinite wi?dom, and reverently acknowledge a wise but mysterious Providence) seemed to sepa? rate us. While the exultant cry of "Victory!" and "Down with the Rebel? lion!" still reverbrated through our Northern States, from you, the daughter and sister of Confederate?yes, I must say it?Confederate martyrs, (for your cause was holy,) I could expect but one answer?the answer I received?to my pleadings. But although your refusal was proud?aye, almost disdainful?j'ou did not conceal from me that the scorn? fully rejected Federal soldier was not an object of indifference to the proud Southern girl. Marion, my friend, my beloved, bear with me and hear me patiently. Even now I tremble lest I awaken the old spirit of pride which in you was so delicately blended with heroic devotion and womanly tenderness, that I was forced to admire the beautiful, the lofty patriotism which prompted those cruel words?"No, Hubert Gray; no, a Southern girl cannot wed a Federal sol? dier!" But hear my story, and let it plead for a gentle answer to my suit. My mother has a ward, the daughter of a dear friend, who, when dying, be? queathed her only child to my mother's , love and care. My dear mother imag? ines that this beautiful child's happiness can be secured only by a union with me, and being entirely ignorant of my love for you, urges me to woo her lovely pro? tege. Vainly have I urged the plea that my regard for Ada St. Clare is only that of a brother, and that although pleasing and beautiful she does not reach my ideal woman; and consequently a union with her would be false .and unholy. My mother continues to urge her wishes, and has even made them a point of filial duty and affection. I have often spoken to you of my mother and of her devotions to me, her only child. My father died when I was an infant, and my dear mother but a girl in years, with a devo? tion which characterizes the mother love, gave up her life to mine. To me she became mother, sister, friend, guide and even a playmate. Well do I remember ?the card castles we built, and the long stories they gave birth to?of fair dames, gentle maidens and noble knights. Each tale pointed to some achieved goodness or greatness, and awakened in my bosom aspirations after heroic grandeur and moral greatness. And my mother's smile of approval was ever the guerdon which imagination held up to me; and, until I met you, the only one from boy? hood to manhood I strove to win. You can, then, form some idea of the pain it gives me to say "No" to my mother. It is in your power to end, without giving pain to my beloved parent, the unfilial contest. Marion, may I go to her and say: "Mother, I cannot woo Ada St. Clare, I *d\ pledged to another, a lovely, gentle girl, the sister of Walter Maham, whom I love, as I can only love once ; she has said to me: 'Hubert, I love you, and in some happier day, a bright future will be yours?'" Then I know my mother's wishes will yield to mine; her heart will open to welcome a daugh? ter, and the Southern Lily will be ten? derly cherished in our Northern home. Marion, Marion, let not pride master love. Do not rob me of hope. What the knowledge of yonr love and its holy influence on my life has been to me you can never, never know. You cannot guess how fair the pictures bright fancy's brush dipped in hope's gay coloring has painted of that happy future my heart waits and watches for, when I may say to you, "Mine, my own!" Answer speedily, and crown my loyal love at least with new hope. Yours faithfully, HUBERT GRAY. Berkley Hall, -. Harry Maham, to Hubert Gray: Col. Gray?Sir : You will find en? closed a letter .addressed by yon to ray sister, Miss Marion Maham, which letter I return you at her request. We?my mother, my sister, and myself?have ever gratefully acknowledged the obligations we are under to you, for services and kindnesses rendered at different times during the late war. But these obliga? tions, I am pained to write, have been cancelled by the insolent inferences and the presumptions hopes to which your letter gives expression. To assure you how groundless have been your assump? tions, permit me, with Miss Maham's en? tire consent, to inform yon that in a few weeks she will become the bride of Maj. Egan. Yours &c., HARRY MAHAM. Through the lofty corridors the gentle footsteps and the light rustling of a wo wan's trailing garments were heard, fol? lowed by a low rap upon the library door. From Hubert Gray's brow the gloomy shadows disappeared. He hastily con? cealed the letters in" his escretoire, and opened the door to a beautiful woman, who looked so fresh and fair that she could have passed for thirty, if it had not been for the soldierly and stately looking man at her side who greeted her as mother, and lead her courteously to a seat. "Am I an interruption upon your busy moments, Hubert?" she asked. "The company of my mother an inter? ruption ? No, never! You know, mother, I am your sworn knight. Even in our boyish games of tilts and tourneys, when the vows of fealty were proffered 'For the good cause and my lady,' imagination pictured no fairer form or face than my mother's. And I do believe," he added, affectionately, "you grow more beautiful each day." "Your flattery is very sweet, and most precious to me, my boy, and as a reward I invite you to accompany Ada and my? self in a long drive to-day. But, Hubert, have you forgotten to-day? you prom? ised I should have a satisfactory reply to a suit I preferred sometime ago." Hubert Gray became very pale, and answered with emotion: "I fear my an? swer will pain you, my dear mother, but I do not love Ada St. Clare, and dare not seek to win her love." "Hubert, you do indeed give me pain by your refusal. Ada is very dear to me ; as my own daughter in this home of wealth and luxury she has been reared, petted and spoiled. You know she is young, beautiful and very poor; I have always indulged the hope that my be? loved protege would become your wife, and I have never taught her to look for? ward to life's hard battle with poverty. How, oh, Hubert, how can I meet the friend of my girlhood, poor Adele, if I leave her child, my orphan charge, un cared for in this cold, hard world. Even in Heaven there could bo no joy for me with recollections of my little Ada's suf? ferings." "Mother, I love Ada as a sister, and am quite willing to divide with her our ample fortune!" "The property is entailed upon you and your heirs, Hubert, and only for my lifetime do I control any part of it." "Well, then, my dear mother, I will ?begin a work of retrenchment, and out of my large income save a fortune for my little sister Ada. I will promise you this, mother, that as long as I live the welfare of Ada St. Clare shall be as dear to me as a sister's." Mrs. Gray, shook her hend gravely and said: "But Ada is not your sister, and suppose you win her young heart." "I do not think Ada's heart is in any danger. She is only sixteen, and her birds and flowers are enough for her to joy or grieve over. Her heart is so light, free and joyous it would be a pity to awaken within it any deeper emotions. And then, too, Ada may not see Hubert Gray with his mother's partial eyes." "Hubert, your love is necessary to Ada's happiness. It is this knowledge which makes me urge you to woo her. To her young heart you are the reality of her ideal hero, and without your love Ada St. Clare's life will be joyless." "How do you know all of this mother ?" "Because I have loved, too." "And mother, I, too, have loved; I do love, and therefore I cannot love Ada St. Clare. 0,1 trust you are mistaken, and that there is no snch bitterness in store for Ada St. Clare as unrequited love;" and there was a ring of bitterness as well as scorn in Hubert Gray's voice. Mrs. Gray looked into her son's deep, dark eyes to make sure of the ring of sorrow she thought she had heard in his voice. Then,' placing her hand fondly on his arm, she said tenderly: "And have you loved in vain ? I never dreamed the woman lived who could resist the at? tractions of Hubert Gray." "I told you, mother, that everybody does not look at Hubert Gray through his mother's glasses." "Is your love hopeless ?" "The lady I love, in the language of the old song, will soon be another's bride," said Col. Gray, with a poor at? tempt at gaiety. Then he added, proud? ly : "I must assert my manhood and 're? turn to life's work and life's battle with renewed courage and energy.'" "Poor Ada!" sighed Mrs. Gray; "love makes a woman's life; to love is her noblest work. I hear Ada's voice calling to say it is time for the drive. Poor child! let her rest in blissful ignorance as long as possible. At midnight, Hubert Gray was roused by an urgent call to his mother's'cham ber. She had been taken suddenly and dangerously ill, and the physicians said she could not live twenty-four hours. By the dying woman's bedside, in all the abandonment of grief, knelt her beauti? ful protege, the orphan Ada. "Dearest mamma, mamma Isabel, who will love and care for your poor, poor Ada when you are gone!" wept the poor child, passionately. The dyings woman raised her eyes en treatingly to her son's face, as the girl's moaning voice fell upon her ear. Hu? bert Gray could not refuse that look. Kneeling by the weeping girl, he placed his arm tenderly around her, and said: "I will care for you, my poor Ada. Let us learn to love each other, and make our lives worthy the example and teach? ings of our mother, who is going to join the great company of the redeemed." Turning to his mother, he said: "Mother, bless your children!" It was a solemn bridal party the sun roso upon next morning. The family physician, a few friends and the beloved pastor. The bride clung timidly to the bridegroom's arm, and her voice trem? bled with intense emotion as she repeated after the minister her vows. The pale and stately bridegroom spoke his in loud, clear tones, while his eyes were riveted upon the face of his dying mother, seek? ing his highly-prized guerdon?his mother's approving smile. As the ferv? ent "Amen" ended the sad and interest? ing ceremony, a sweet smile illumined Mrs. Gray's features, and holding out her arms, she exclaimed, "Hubert!" In a moment the strong arms of her child were around her, her head fell upon his bosom. "God bless you my son!" broke from her pale lips, and Hubert Gray pressed to his bosom only the lifeless form of his idolized mother. The same paper which had announced the marriage of Hubert Gray, had also published an account of his mother's illness and death, but it was nearly a week after the paper was received before the Mab ana's learned of Hubert Gray's irremediable loss, for in the confusion consequent upon Marion's sudden illness, the paper had been misplaced. Mrs. Habam wrote to Hubert a letter full of gentle sympathy, and begged him to bring his young bride to visit her. But she looked in vain for an answer to her affectionate invitation. to be continued. How to Choose a Wife.?That young lady will make you a good wife who does not apologize when you find her at work in the kitchen, but continues at her task until it is finished. When you hear a lady say, "I shall at? tend church and wear my old bonnet and water-proof cloak, for fear we shall have a rain-storm," depend upon it she will make a good wife. When a daughter remarks: "Mother, I would not hire help,.for I can assist you to do all the work in the kitchen," set it down that she will make somebody a good wife. When you hear a young lady say to her father: "Don't purchase a very ex? pensive or showy dress for me, but what will wear best," you may be certain she will make a good wife." ? A philosopher asserts that the rea? son why ladies' teeth decay sooner than gentlemen's is because of the friction of the tongue and the sweetness of the lips. New and Important Laws. An Act to reduce the number of trial justices in anderson county, and to regulate their courts. Section 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sit? ting in General Assembly, and by the authority of the same, That within sixty days after the next general election the Governor shall appoint, by and with the consent of the Senate, nine Trial Justices in and for -the County of Anderson, as follows: For the town of Anderson, one; for the townships of Centreville and HopeweJl, one; for Varenues, Hall and Dark Corner, one ; for Honea Path and Martin, one; for Broadway and Belton, one; for Williamston and Brushy Creek, one; for Pendleton and Garvin, one; for the Fork, one; for Rock Mills and Savannah, one; the said Trial Justices to serve for the term of two years, or at the pleasure of the Governor, and to re? side in and to hold their offices in the several districts to which they shall be appointed. Sec. 2.' That hereafter no fees or costs shall be retained by any such Trial Jus? tice for any trial or process whatever, ex? cept in civil cases; and no account or claim shall be paid to such Trial Justice by the County Treasurer upon any such demand; and, if either of the Trial Jus? tices appointed by virtue of this Act shall neglect to attend to the duties of his office, or shall neglect to pay over to the County Treasurer the fees, costs and fines collected by him, he shall be liable to in? dictment in the Court of Sessions, and, upon conviction, to such punishment as is provided by law to a case of larceny in the same amount, and shall be removed from office; and the said Trial Justices shall make a report of their proceedings in criminal cases to the Clerk of the Court of the County of Anderson on the first Monday in each calendar month for the month preceding, which report shall state specifically the names of the parties in action, the crime charged, the judgment rendered, and the penalty, fees, costs and fines imposed, and whether the same are collected or nulla bona, and in what amounts, and all such amounts shall, upon the same day, be due and paid to the County Treasurer, and a fail? ure to make this report shall be a misde? meanor, punishable by the Circuit Court by imprisonment in the County jail for not more than thirty days, or a fine not exceeding fifty dollars, or both, in the discretion of the Court. Sec. 3. The sum of fifty dollars per annum shall be paid to each Trial Jus? tice, as herein provided, out of the Coun? ty funds, except the Trial Justice for Fork Township, who shall receive twen? ty-five dollars; the Trial Justice for Varennes, Hall and Dark Corner Town? ships, who shall receive seventy-five dol? lars. The Treasurer shall pay the same iu quarterly installments, on the first Mondays of January, April. July and October to them or their order, certified by the County Commissioners. Sec. 4. All blanks required in the prosecution of criminal cases shall be furnished by the County Commissioners, upon the requisition of the several Trial Justices, as they may be required in the performance of the duties ot their office. Sec. 5. It shall be the duty of the Trial Justices to appoint such proper and dis? creet person or persons as he may select to serve processes or to make arrests, and such process or warrant shall, when assigned to such person for service, invest the said person, for the purposes therein set forth, with all the powers belonging to the office of Constable; and he shall, upon receiving any such paper for ser? vice, take and subscribe thereon to the oath prescribed by law for the qualifica? tion of Constables; and every such per? son shall receive for each paper served, or for each arrest made, the sum of fifty cents, except summonses for witnesses and jurors, for which he shall receive the sum of twenty-five cents, the same to be paid by the County Treasurer upon the warrant of the County Commissioners; the account to be certified to by the Trial Justice who employs said Constable. Sec. 6. Witnesses and jurors shall hereafter receive no pay from the County for service upon criminal cases before any Trial Justice, and all fees and costs arising from such compensation are here? by abolished within the County of An? derson. Sec. 7. Every person acting as Con? stable for the service of any criminal process, as hereinbefore provided, shall be entitled to receive from the County, in addition to the fees accruing from service, the sum of five cents for every mile of necessary travel required in making such service, but no mileage shall be allowed after service of process for any distance traveled in returning therefrom, and all such mileage shall be reckoned and cer? tified by the Justice issuing the process as from the office of the same to the place of such service by the nearest usual route of travel. Sec. 8. All Acts and parts of Acts in conflict with the provisions herein con? tained, so far as they relate to the County of Anderson, are hereby repealed; and this Act shall take effect sixty days from the general election of the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy-six. Approved March 25, 1876. An Act concerning hawkers and peddlers. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in General Assembly, and by the authority of the same: Section 1. That before any hawker or peddler shall expose to sale, or sell any goods, wares or merchandise in any county in this State, such hawker or ped? dler shall first apply to the Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas and General Sessions of such county for a license for the sale of his or her goods, wares or merchandise, and the said Clerk, upon the payment to him by such hawker or peddler of the sum of ten dollars, shall thereupon issue to such hawker or ped? dler a license, authorizing the said hawker or peddler so to expose to sale, and sell such goods, wares, or merchan? dise within the limits of the county wherein such license shall be granted for the term of one year from the date there? of and no longer. Sec. 2. That such license, so granted as aforesaid, shall not be construed to authorize or permit any other person to sell or expose to sale any goods wares and merchandize except the person to whom and in whose name it shall have been issued; that it shnll not be lawful to transfer such license by assignment, delivery, or otherwise, so as to enable any other person to use it for such pur? pose. Sec. 3. That if any hawker or peddler from and after the passage of this Act shall sell or expose to sale any goods, wares or merchandize in any county in this State without having obtained a license for that purpose according to the provisions of this Act, he or she shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof shall be punished by imprisonment in the county jail for a term of one month or a fine of fifty dol? lars, or, both at the discretion of the court. Sec. 4. That the provisions of this Act shall not extend to venders of fruit trees, maps, newspapers, magazines, books, vegetables, tobacco, provisions of any kind, or agricultural products, or the products of nurseries, or to sales by samples by persons travelling for estab? lished commercial houses, or to sales of staple articles manufactured in this State. Sec. 5. That all monies collected under the provisions of this Act shall be turned over to the county treasurers of the sev? eral counties to be applied to school pur? poses. Sec. 6. That all Acts and parts of Acts inconsistent with this Act, be and the same are hereby repealed. This Act shall not take effect until ninety days after its passage. Approved February 24, 1876. An Act to amend section 24, chap? ter 129, op the general statutes, relating to obstructing rivers or creeks. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatves of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in General Assemibly, and by the authority of the same: Section 1. That Section 24, Chapter 129, of the General Statutes of South Carolina be amended so as to read as fol? lows: "Whoever shall cut down, throw or fall, or cause to be cut down, thrown* or fallen into any river or creek, or cut in this State any timber or tree, aud shall leave the said timber or tree in such river, creek or cut for the space of eight and forty hours, shall be deemed guuty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof before a trial justice or other proper officer having jurisdiction in such cases, shall be fined not exceeding twen? ty-five dollars, or imprisoned not exceed? ing ten days, the fine in such cases to be disposed of for the benefit of the poor of the county where the offence was com? mitted. Approved February 9, 1876. An Act to prohibit county treas? urers from charging commissions on school funds paid out by them. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in*General Assembly, and by the authority of the sam e : Section 1. That from and after the passage of this Act, ?ny County Treas? urer who shall demand or receive any commissions for paying out the school founds paid out by him from the person charged with receiving them, or shall charge any person commissions on the same, the County Treasurer so offending shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and, on conviction, shall be fined not less than fifty dollars 'for each such offence, or be imprisoned for a period not less than three months. Sec. 2. All Acts or parts of Acts in conflict with this Act be, and the same are hereby, repealed. Approved March 24,1876. Tiie Japanese at Work in the Centen? nial Grounds. The Centennial Exhibition, at Phila? delphia, will assert the truism that one half of the world doesn't know how the other half lives. It seems that those gingerbread complected orientals, of whom Christendom has until very re? cently known so little, are already ex? citing the jealous curiosity of the Yankee nation by their skill and mechanical in fenuity on the centennial grounds. The aps are erecting their own building, and, doubtless, it will be filled with in? comprehensible eastern curiosities. If they show themselves scientific artisans in. Philadelphia, anxiety will soon be aroused to have them import their skill to this "land of the free," ect. This will, probably, be followed by an emptying of the Japanese Islands into the unoccupied lands of America. Then comes, as has already eome to California, "too much of the good thing," and the skill will be learned and appropriated, but the im Eorter will be driven back to his oriental ome: The Chinese are infesting California literally, and evil results are anticipated from their continued immigration. With the endurance of donkeys, and a skill peculiar to themselves, they are knock? ing the underpinning away from the laboring classes in that auriferous coun? try by materially reducing the price of labor, and if they will not be Ku-kluxed shortly by the scores, we don't under? stand American character. With the Chinese in San Francisco, and the Japanese in Philadelphia, prov I ing to us that all our boasted go-ahcad I ati veness is but fogyism compared with their more advanced, mechanical science, we should be taught a lesson in humility that may profit us in these times of un? rest and corruption. A Philadelphia daily has the follow? ing: The Japanese carpenters at work fasci? nate crowds of curiosity hunters, Yankee artisans and thieves. To keep at a dis? tance, a guard fence has been put around the Japanese buildings. An old boss Philadelphia carpenter, whom I saw lean? ing over the fence yesterday afternoon, said, in answer to my question whether any one could go inside: "Oh, no. They had to put this* con? cern to keep out just such men as me. They've got tools in there that American carpenters can't hold a candle to, and they found out that some folks around here wasn't above stealing. But their tools ain't half as ingenious as their ways of handling 'em. I've watched that fel? low up there for half a day, and I never seen him use a rule or a measurin' rod. He measures everything with his eye. See him now; see him saw off that con? nection between them two posts; see how quick he saws it in two with that little fine tool of his. "Now look at him Eut it up. There?it fits to a hair's reaclth, and yet he did it with his eye. Now, notice that other little cuss over yonder. He's fixin one dove-tail to fit another; he hain't touched anything in the shape of a rule since he began, and you'll see he'll make them two joints set as if they was melted into each other. Hi! didn't I tell you so? He can see like a microscope; you couldn't get your finger-nail in tue crack." Ashes For Sweet Potatoes.?A correspondent in the Southern Cultivator says: I notice the quest-ion is asked, which is the best fertilizer or manure for sweet po? tatoes ? From the experience I have had in manuring the sweet potato, I must say that rotted (hard wood) ashes, when prop? erly put on, has precedence over all oth? ers I have had any c xperince with. The plan that I adopted was to open a deep furrow with a scooter plow, and put in plenty of ashes. Bed out on the ashes, aud a sure crop may be realized on the poorest soil. Cow-penning is good also? so are cotton seed and stable manure; but after experimenting with ashes, they will all be abandoned. I experimented on as poor a soil as I had, and the result was as fine a crop of potatoes as I ever saw on any kind of land. Rotted ashes is good for cotton also and almost any kind of vegetation. I am convinced there is uot a better fertilizer made than rotted ash? es. Stonewall Jackson at Cedar Bun. In the summer of 1862, after McClellan had been driven from the front of Rich? mond, to the shelter of his gunboats on the lower James, the corps of Stonewall Jackson, comprising the divisions of Ewell and Winder, to which A. P. Hill's was shortly added, was ordered to Gor donsville for the purpose of operating in Northern Virginia, as the commander thought best, subject, however, to the orders of Gen. R. E. Lee, who was still near Richmond with the remainder of his army. A few weeks' rest in the then bountiful country around Gordonsville greatly im? proved the health and spirit of the men and recruited our wornout teams. General John Pope, who had recently been appointed to the chief command of the Federal forces in Virginia, was col? lecting a large army in our front, with his headquarters at Culpeper Court House. McClellan also was transferring his troops from the James to Fredericksburg, on the Rappahannock. To prevent a junc? ture of these two armies, Gen. Jackson determined to strike the former and turn Pope towards the mountains, or drive him back upon Washington City. Ac? cordingly a forced march was made through the County of Orange and part of Culpepper, the divisions moving by dif? ferent roads. Pope advanced to meet us, and the two armies came together at a little stream called Cedar Run, six miles Southwest from Culpepper Court House. Our line was quickly formed on the South side of the stream. Ewell's division forming the right, and was posted on the slope of a litte mountain called Slaugh? ter's; Winder's forming the left, and stretched across the old stage road lead? ing from Charlottesville io Alexandria. Hill's division, which was still in column behind, making the reserve, his march having been retarded by the wagon trains of the others. Immediately in the rear of our line there was a large body of woods, but in front the opeu ground sloped gently to the Run, and from thence rose gradually to a ridge some six hundred yards distant from our line. Upon this ridge were posted most of the troops of the enemy? a heavy column having been detached to march by a circuitous route under cover of the timber, and attack us on our left. I The superior number of the enemy ena? bled him to do this without violating any military maxim. It came very c*.*r causing our defeat, too, as the sequel - show. Our left flank was guarded by tue second brigade of Winder's division, posted in the woods to the left of the road and formed at a right angle to the main line of battle. From the top of the mountain above mentioned, Gen. Jackson sat upon his horse, calmly watching the movements of the enemy. The brigade of Early opened the battle by driving in the enemy's cavalry; but he withdrew to the position assigned him when the Federal infantry and artillery came up and began to deploy into line. A murderous fire on both sides was new commenced by the artillery. Ewell's guns doing splendid execution from their elevated position?the enemy's fire being chiefly directed to our batteries in and near the road, across which Winder's di? vision stretched. The fight had now commenced in earn? est, and Jackson, leaving his observatory on the mountain, rode to the front. The shells were tearing up the ground and ricocheting down the road iu a most un? healthy manner as we advanced, and just as we reached the battery posted in the road, General Winder, who was directing the fire of one of the guns, fell mortally wounded, almost uuder the feet of Jack sou's horse. Asking who that was, and being told, Jackson lifted bis head for a few moments in silent prayer and rode on. As most of Hill's brigades were still in the rear, Jackson became uneasy for his left, and the writer was sent to have the skirmishers thrown further out. The precaution was too late, however, for the skirmishers came running in just as I I reached the second brigade, and a heavy I column of infantry were to be seen de [Joying for attack, and over-lapping the ittle brigade ou both sides. Returning to Jackson with the infor? mation, I found him in the field to the right of the road, midway between two batteries. The news seemed to have no other effect upon him than to cause the muscles of his face to become hardened, and his thin lips to be more tightly com? pressed. He made no remark though, not even to the asking of a question. The artillery duel had now lasted more than an hour, and it was evident from the rising up of their infantry supports, who were plainly visible from our posi? tion, that a charge was to be made by the enemy in our front to co-operate with the attack of their flunking column, and there they came, three long lines of battle, fif? teen hundred yards in extent. They swept down theslope to the creek, through the fields of growing grain, and then up towards our line. It was a magnificent sight, and I almost held my breath with anxiety, and now our infantry, who had been lying down, rose out of the corn and poured in a dead? ly Volley. The enemy's front line quiv? ered for a moment and then broke, run? ning through the other lines, throwing everything into confusion. The fighting, however, continued, the men on both sides firing as fast as they could load.? We were getting the best of the fight though, and would soon have charged in turn out for the breaking of the Second brigade, which came running in on the Third, causing that to double up upon the next to the right, and then our entire left gave way and commenced running through the woods to the rear in the wildest confusion. This left our batteries unprotected, aud Jackson immediately ordered them to the rear, simply by the wave of his band, and then turning him? self he rode slowly back. As stated above, the woods were ex? tensive, and when we reached the South? ern edge we met A. P. Hill coming up at the head of Branch's brigade, and there was exposed to view a long line of retreating men, some two hundred yards distant. Seemingly inspired with new ardor, Jackson ordered Hill to form on the right of the road at the edge of the woods, and then ordering those about him to stop those men still running through the woods and bring back those who bad passed, he drew his sword, and, by appeals and threats, and with the as? sistance of the officers around him, soon formed a new line to the left of the road upon an extension of hills, the men fall? ing into ranks as they were halted, or as they came back without regard to com? pany or regiment. I have noticed that all of his biogra? phers, following the first, Dr. Dabney states that on this occasion Jackson used the following language, viz: "Rally, brave men, and press forward ; your Gen? eral will lead you; Jackson will lead you ; follow me." This is a mistake.'? Stonewall Jackson was too modest a man to use such language. Words very sim? ilar to these were used, but not by Jack? son. The Yankees were now rapidly ad? vancing through the woods with reformed ranks, and for the succeeding half hour the fighting was the most desperate, and at closer quarters, than was ever before witnessed by the writer. There was little or no undergrowth, aud nearly every tree was large enough to shelter one or more men, and the bat? tle was after the regular Indian style? Gen. Jackson betaking himself to the friendly side of a large oak of sufficient size to shelter himself and horse, the writer and the color-bearer of the Fourth Virginia Regiment sharing with him the protection of the tree. As the fight progressed the men clus? tered around Jackson, causing the fire in our immediate front to be very heavy, and forcing the enemy to give way to the right and left until a considerable gap was made in their line. Jackson, who had been eagerly watching from first one side and then the other side of the tree, seized this opportunity to charge. Tak? ing the fiag from the sergeant and placing the end of the staff upon his foot, which projected beyond the stirrup, and without saying one word to the men, he advanced in a canter. With a regular Confederate veil the troops followed in a run. We had not gone twenty yards before the Yankees turned their backs, and made better time going through those woods than our fellows bad done half an hour before. The pursuit was continued till dark, but there was no fighting worth speaking of after this final charge. I have always thought that Jackson showed more of the hero in that fight than any other of the numerous battles. The heavy rains that fell that night and the next day prevented further pursuit, even if it had been deemed ad? visable.?Richmond Whig. The Causes of Insanity. Dr. Clouston, Physician Superinten his annual report, says: "Glancing over the summary of assigned causes, it is at once seen that intemperance stands out as by far the most frequent. It alone caused forty-eight of the two hundred and sixty, or about twenty per cent, in which the cause was known, and along with other allied excesses for which the patients had been themselves responsi? ble, it accounts for seventy-two, or twen? ty-eight per cent, of the cases. Much is Sroperly said about the prevention of iseases nowadays. Most unquestionably the sum total of the mental diseases in our city might have been lessened by that amount if the laws of nature had been better obeyed. Fifty of th.e cases thus resulting from drinking and excesses being paupers, each costing ?27 a year to the public rates, over ?1,300 will have been paid for one year's production of lunacy from very preventable causes, and, of course, this takes no account of the cost of the old incurable cases already in the asylum from the same cause. I am quite sure that intemperance was the remote cause of the disease in more of the cases; but, even allowing for these, we can not put this down as accounting in any way for more than one in four of all cases of insanity. In assigning in? temperance as the cause of insanity in a number of cases, two things must not be forgotten. The first is, that the taking of stimulants may not be a cause at all, but merely a symptom of the brain disorder; and, as a matter of fact, it is often one of the early symptoms in many cases. The second thing to be kept in mind is that there are many cases in which it is the real cause of the mental disorder; but the balance had always been so unstable, and the brain working so easily overset, that a very little alcohol indeed will bring on an attack of. insanity in the per? sons, just as in those same people a fright or a little overexcitement will upset their sanity. This is the class of persons who, in my experience, get upset by religious revivals. The resetting and recuperative power that is really an essential part of a healthy nervous system, whereby the effects of not too long-continued overeat? ing or overdrinking, overfeeling or over? work are at once recovered from, is want? ing in these people. Nature provides that short excesses don't do much harm to healthy people. It is a poor sort of boiler that bursts whenever the exact pressure needed for its-daily work is ex? ceeded. And before I leave this subject I may mention that I have not reckoned in anv way the mere drink craving or the inability to resist it, as constituting in? sanity. I believe this may or may not be a real insanity in different cases, but it was from developed and unmistakable mental alienation that all my patients suffered. When the causes of the insani? ty of our eighty-eight private patients are compared with those of the two hun? dred ana twenty-two paupers, the differ? ence is most striking, and entirely bears out the general law already indicated. Of those eighty-eight private patients, mental causes produced the disease in about thirty-eignt, physical being only twelve per cent, under them, while in the paupers they were just one-third as numerous. These facts tend strongly to show that the higher in the social we go the more strongly do purely mental and moral shocks act in upsetting a healthy mental balance, and that those causes operate more powerfully on the lower classes of a town population than an agricultural." Cost of Production.?Farmers are generally beginning to realize that this is the great pivotal question on which their success of failure must depend. Until quite recently the importance of this subject has been comparatively over? looked, and there is even now scarcely one farmer in fifty who can tell with any accuracy or eertainty what his cereals when harvested have cost per bushel, or what his poultry, beef, mutton and pork have cost per pound. For this slovenly mode of husbandry there is neither neces? sity nor excuse, and there is probably no other legitimate business wherein such indifference to the main question would be considered possible. It is very certain that farmers will hereafter find it necessary to make a point of ascertaining the actual cost per bushel of their wheat and corn. When? ever they do this they will be surprised to find that in the very act of doing it they are already reducing the cost. One reason why these products have hitherto cost too much is because nobody seems to know exactly how much they do cost. Examination sheds light, and light dis? pels ignorance. Then let the discussion of this subject go forward. It is evident that farmers have here struck the key? note that is to inaugurate a new era in. their calling. After a careful study of the subject for several years, and as the result of some experience and observa? tion, we are confident there is a point in the cost of production lower than any yet reached in this country, and which lies practically within the reach of a majority of farmers. It would be easy to show that the present average cost of produc? tion for the whole country might be re? duced in the present state of our knowl? edge at least 50 per cent.?Exchange. ? There are already twenty six candi? dates announced for Governor of Georgia, while scarcely any of the back counties have been heard from. It is a noticeable fact that all of them have military titles, which is a new proof of the fearful mor? tality among the privates in the late war. HEBREW VITALITY. ^ A Race of Robust Health and Remark? ably IiOng Life. The Jews are the healthiest and the longest-lived people on the face of the earth. Their immunity from diseases of all forms is remarkable. Even the great? est epidemics pass them by with the in? fliction of much lighter scourge than falls upon other races. It is declared that the cholera never chose one of them for its victim, and, in fact, the deaths from this malady have been so few as almost to bear out the assertion. Suicide is sel? dom practiced among them. It has been computed, from statistics returned in cer? tain provinces of Austria and Germany, that in a population of 1,000,000 the pro? portion of suicides between the Jews and the mixed white races was one to four. From data carefully studied Hoff? man found that between the years 1823 and 1840 the number of still-born among the Jews of Germany was as one in thir? ty-nine, and among other races as one in forty. Mayer ascertained that in Furth the proportion of Jewish children who die between the ages of one and five years is ten per cent., and of Christian children of the same age it is fourteen per cent. M. Neuville, calculating from the statistics of Frankfort, shows even a Srealer vitality existing among the chil ren of the Jews. He also finds from his data that the average duration of the life of the Jew is forty-eight years and nine months, while of the Christian it is thirty-six years and eleven months. "In the total of all ages half of the Jews born reach the age of fifty-three years and one month, while half of the Christians born attain the age of thirty-six years only." One fourth of the Jewish population live beyond seventy-one years, but the same ftroportion of the Christian population ive only beyond fifty-nine years .and ten months. The official returns of Prussia give to the Jews a mortality of 1.62 per cent. While the Jews double their num? bers in 41} years others require a period of fifty-one years. In 1849 there was in Prussia one death for every forty Jews and one death for every thirty-two of the remaining popu? lation. Commenting upon these statistics, which are brought together by Dr. Rich? ardson in "Diseases of Modern Life," that author ascribes the vitality of the Jews to their sober way of living. "The Jew drinks less than his 'even Christian'; h? takes, as a rule, better food; he marries earlier; he rears the children he has brought into this world with greater per? sonal care; he tends to the aged more thoughtfully; be takes better care of his poor, and he takes better care of himself. He does not boast of to-morrow,- but he provides for it, and he holds tenaciously to all. he gets. To our Saxon eyes and Celtic eyes he carries these virtues too far; but thereby be wins, becomes pow? erful, and, scorning boisterous mirth and passion, is comparatively happy." It is a fact in the history of the Jewish race that they nowhere have paid es? pecial attention to the development of physical capacity. They do not from choice enter a military life, they establish no public games, are not given to athlet? ic exercises and pursue no definite means for attaining great corporal strength and stature. As a people they do not reach a high physical standard, and still their vitality is greater than that of any other civilized race. In applying these facts to the question of the effects of severe physical exercise, Dr. Richardson re? marks :? "It would be impossible, and in truth unnecessary to enforce any stronger ar? gument as to the negative value of ex? cessive physical exertion in sustaining the vital power of a race. In the course of centuries the most powerful nations have died out and empires of perfect physical beauty and chivalric fame have passed away. But, through all these vicissitudes, one race, cultivating none of the so-called athletio and heroic qual? ities,, and following none of the exercises popularized as 'bracing,' 'hardy,' 'invig? orating,' has held its irrepressible own, to remain a more numerous people, in its totality, than ever; a people still pre? senting a more tenacious life than its neighbors, and showing, as it is relieved of the cruel restraint long forced on it, the continuance also of mental force and of commanding genius in art, in letters, in politics, in commerce and in science." It may be truthfully added in the con? nection, too, that the Isrealites inflict no tax upon the people for the care of pau? pers. They care for their own. A Rich Woman's Hard Fate.?It is highly probable that the widow of Alex? ander T. Stewart will be annoyed and persecuted beyond measure by beggars of various degrees, even now that Judge Hilton is employed to assist her in dis? bursing it. If she had retainad the whole she could not, during her life, give away more than the merest fraction of the interest of her vast fortune. If she knew on whom to bestow it, and occupied all her time in making small donations, she could not give it all away daring her lifetime. Suppose her to be worth $50, 000,000, and to disburse only the inter? est, she could get. rid of $10,000 a day, or $1,000 every working hour. In other words she could perpetually give away $16 a minute for ten hours of every working day and never touch the princi? pal ! If resolved to transfer to others the entire fortune, it would take her a year if she counted out $3.50 a second. In $100 bills, laid end to end, it would reach from the Battery to Central Park. If divided info $1 bills, and kept at compound in? terest, neither Mrs. Stewart nor any single line of successors could ever count it and give it away, even if the counting were continued for thousands of years and each counted as fast as possi ble. If it was all $10 bills, and a thief should get access to the pile and take one bill a minute, it would require more than thirty years for him to capture the fortune. On the whole, Mrs. Stewart and her legal Cererbus are not to be envied.?New York Graphic. Good Cows Cheapest.?Farmers make a serious mistake in not raising better stock, as it cost no more to feed a cow worth $100 than it dees one worth $20. All you have to do in order to have good cows is to buy a good bull of any breed that is noted for procuring good milch cows, and with two or three first rate na? tive cows one can soon have cows that will milk 20 quarts a day just as well as those that give only six or eight quarts. Yearling bulls of blooded stock can often be bought quite cheap, to be kept a year or longer before used. The Ayreshire is is probably the best milk producing cow we have. The Durhams make the best beef cattle, and sometimes good milkers; the Devons are very hardy, and make splendid working oxen, but arc not noted* as good milkers; the Alderneys and Jer? seys (both about the same breed] arc too small for farmers, and their milk is too rich to go to cheese factories, as it produ? ces a pound of butter to six or seven quarts, while native cow's milk makes only a pound to thirteen or fourteen quarts of milk.