Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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LOTE'S BELIEF. * I believe if I should die, And you should klsa my eyelids when I lie Cold, dead, and numb to all the world contains, The folded orhs would open at thy breath, And from its exile In the aisles of death .Life would came gladly hack along my veins. I believe if I were dead, And yon upon my lifeless heart should tread, Not knowing what the poor clod chanced to be, It would find sudden pulse beneath the touch Of him it ever loved in life so much, And throb again, warm, tender, true to thee. I believe if on my grave, Hidden In woody deeps, or by the wave. Your eyes should drop some warm tears of regret. From every salty seed of your dear grief Some fair sweet blossom would leap Into leaf, To prove death could not make my love forget. I believe if I should fade Into those mystic realms where light Is made, And you should long once more my face to sec, I would come forth upon the hills of night, And gather stars like faggots, till thy sight, Led by the beacon blase, fell full on me! I believe who baa not loved Hath half the treasure of his life unproved; Like one who with the grape within his grasp. Drops it, with all its crimson juice unpressed, And all its lucioui sweetness left ucguessed, Out from his careless and unheeding clasp. I believe love, pure and true, Is to the soul a sweet. Immortal dew That gems life's petals in its hours of dusk; The waiting angels see and recognize The rich crown jewel, love of Paradise, When life falls from us like a withered husk. WHAT HE EXPECTS. Wanted?a wife who can handle a broom To brush down the cobwebs and sweep up her room; Can make decent bread that a fellow can eat, Not the horrible compound you everywhere meet; Who knows how.to boil, to fry, and to roast, Make a good cap of tea and a platter of toast; A woman that washes, cooks,Irons and stitches, And sews up the rips In a fellow's old clothes, And makes ner own garments?an item, too, which .-'Ha,, . , > i; ? -: , So horrid expensive, as every one knows; A common sense creature, and still with a mind To teach and to guide?exalted, refined; A sort of an angel and housemaid combined. SAVED BY A SACRIFICE. Just twenty years ago to-day since Tom asked me to become his wife. Ah, how well do I remember that happy time! We were sitting, he and I, in the arbor, amid the roses and purple grapes. Tom was handsome then (you would scarcely think it now) and I loved bim; but as he asked me in that sweet, thrill? ing voice to gi^e my hand and heart to him, I felt an unaccountable thrill of horror run through my frame. "I cannot, oh, I cannot, Tom!" I crie<J, "I may be foolish and superstitious, but I must oever marry, for if I do I shall most certainly be the wife of a drunkard." "What nonsense is this, Mary ?" said he. "Have you ever seen me in bad company, that you think I would be led astray ? For you know that I have been strictly temperate since you have known me." " "Yes, yes, I know you are all I could desire my husband to be; but I am sure if I marry, no matter whom, misery fol? lows, for there is a curse resting upon me. Listen while I tell you what I mean: "Three years ago, before my father died, he and I belonged to the tempe jance order here, and he was the presid? ing officer. Well, one night we were to try a member for violating the pledge; the case was a very aggravated one, as?j this was the fourth offense, and he had boasted that it made no difference how often he drank, as the lodge would never expel him, and he would be reinstated at the next meeting with nothing more than a reprimand. These reports reached fathers ears, and made him very angry. "The comur.tee made their report'and all were in favor of expulsion, until the poor wife arose, and in piteous words begged us to give him one more trial. When the votes were cast for suspension or expulsion it was found to be a tie. In that case the chairman casts the decisive ballot, and father decided he should be expelled. ' For a moment silence reigned; then the wife of the disgraced man arose,' and raisins her hand toward heaven, cried, in a sharp, shrill voice: "May the curse of God rest upon you and yours, Mr. Weston! May your daughter suffer as I suffer I May her husband be a drunkard!" She then hurried from the room, while I shook as with the ague. "Tom, dear Tom, 1 cannot get rid of the conviction that I am to know from experience just what that woman suffered, and I am sure it would kill me to be a drunkard's wife." . "My darling," whispered he, "you need fear nothing, for 1 swear by all I hold sacred, by the memory of my angel mother, and by the hope that God will bless our union, never, no never, to touch any kind of intoxicating liquors. Will that satisfy you, Mary? You know I am not an intemperate man, and surely, with you for my wife, there would be no danger of my falling. I must say I think you are a very foolish little girl to heed the ravings of an angry woman; never? theless, I promise there shall never be the ghost of a chance for the curse to de? scend." Of course I accepted him, not even asking him what his past life had been. He told me- he had belonged to the army, and ha often amused mel>y relating in* cidents of his travels; but further than that I knew nothing. My parents were both dead, and I was alone, with no one ' to advise me; but, for that matter, all seemed to think I was doing remarkably well, for Tom was a general favorite. .So we were married, and commenced housekeeping at once in a cozy little cot? tage in the outskirts of the town. Oh, how perfectly happy we were I My hus? band was sober, industrious and affec? tionate, while I did all in my power to make our home an Eden. I have often thought I was too happy, if such a thing is possible; at any rate, my happiness was of short duration. We had been married five months when, one evening at a .party, I noticed that Tom acted strangely; he appeared reckless, his laugh was loud and boiste? rous, and he shunned me. At length some friends whispered that I would do well to get him home, as he was drinking very freely. For a moment I gazed in wonder; their words had no meaning for me: then the awful truth burst upon me that Tom had fallen, and I moaned in agony. "The curse is upon me I Oh, Father in heaven, why should I have to bear this burden ? Oh, I pray thee, let me die r I persuaded him to take me away, pleading that I was not well, and my white,, terror-stricken face alarmed him so much that he made all haste to get me home. There were many days of sorrow and nights of silent waiting after that. He would promise to reform, and at first I believed him; but the vow once broken could not be mended, and I soon found there was no hope. I was a drunkard's wife, and such I must be as long as we both lired. I thought my lot hard then, but as years rolled on, and children were born to us, I was miserable indeed. I dared not dream of the future of my little ones, for .over it hung that fatal curse. 'Tis true, I found some comfort in the present, for my children were all a mother's heart could desire; but the awful truth was always before me: "Their father is a drunkard." I was ambitious, but how dared I, a drunkard's wife; hope my boys would ever rise in life, no matter how abundant? ly nature had blessed them? My two F'rls, twins, were lovely as fairies, but all asked for them was that they might be spared a lot like mine. At other times I would bo almc it frantic with the galling of the iron chain that kept me bound at the foot of the ladder of life, and. often in my despair have I prayed God to fake at once either the children and me or my husband. . Oh, the cruel, cruel curse 1 Was it al? ways to rest upon me ? My prayers were answered sooner than I expected. I had five children, Charley, a fine, handsome boy of seven; then my twins, Flora and Clara of five, next Frankie of three, and an infant. My girls used often to go for their papa when I feared he would visit the saloon. The children all loved him, for when not under the influence of liquor he was a kind lather, and they were anxious to keep him at home as much as his work wonld allow. One evening Flora and Clara went forth on their usual errand. They were beautiful children, with clear blue eyes in which you could read their souls, long, golden curls, dainty features, and fair transparent complexions. I called them my "twin emblems of purity," and it was a fit simile. Ah, how plainly can I see them now, as they kissed their hands to me, and told me not to fear, for they would see that papa came home safe. Why was it I wished to call them back?that I felt as though a heavy load were pressing upon my heart?as though what had been bright and beautiful now looked dark and chill? Do coming events cast their shadows before? When next I saw my darlings they were lying stili and cold upon the green river bank. Dead? Yes, dead, drowned ! The jewels of my heart, that I had prized so highly, the two pure white buds that I had watched and nursed with such care, and held far dearer than my life, my precious little girls, were dead, drowned in that cruel, cold river. Their father had left his work quite early to go to the saloon, and by the time they arrived he was intoxicated. They coaxed him to come home, but were ashamed to go through town with him, so they went around, where the river was crossed by a foot-bridge. When on the narrow bridge he suddenly reeled, and. ;re the children knew the danger, all three were in the water. He got out in safety, but my little girls were drowned. Ohj how I grieved for my lost ones I And it was then, in my hour of affliction, that I felt the kindness of my neighbors, for all, both old and young, tried to show the sympathy they felt The words of one old lady, in partic j ular, rise in my memory: [ "My poor Mary," said she, when I was ! refusing to be comforted, and rebelling against the will of God, "you think it hard that your beautiful children should be taken. Do you not know if you were in a garden of flowers you would pick I only the rarest and loveliest ? And sure I ly the Angel of Death will do the same. Beside, Mary, have you not often prayed that they might never know the sorrows you have endured for eight years ? And how could they be spared that anguish more surely than by lying as they are now ? It is all for the best, poor, stricken mother 1" But I could not feel it was better my darlings should be lying there in one coffin, with their waxen hands folded on their bosoms, holding some pure white blossoms, and their nappy hearts stilled forever. And when the cold clods fell upon the coffin with that hard, dull thud, I shrieked aloud in ray agony, and was carried fainting from the graveyard. - It was many days before I awoke to consciousness, for I was very ill with brain-fever; but while I lay there, cared for kindly by my husband and the neigh? bors, my two little boys were neglected, and ere I was able to sit up they were laid beside their sisters; so Charley was all I had left. But I did not feel the loss of the babies as I did the twins, partly because I was too weak to realize the blow, and because I was watching the change in my hus? band. He felt that the loss of the four children rested upon himself, for were it not that he was intoxicated that evening, they would not have died. He therefore made another vow not to drink, joined the temperance order, quit? ted his old habits, and was in all respects like the Tom of olden times. And I was so full of thankfulness that there was no room for grief. This happened twelve years ago, and the second vow remains unbroken. We were very poor then, depending upon my needle, ana what little work Tom did for our bread. Now we have a pleasant home, as nearly as possible like the cot? tage of our young married life. Tom has a lucrative business, and in all respects is doing well. But, what is better still, our boy gives promise of becoming a good and useful man,..and what mother could ask more? We mourn for our lost children, but have learned from experience that it was all for the best; they are spared the troubles of a life on earth, and they have saved their father. I am contented and happy, for though the day dawned in tea. j it is ending in smiles. A Reminiscence of the War. One morning a party were sitting at White Sulphur, and the conversation nad fallen upon the late war. Personal re? miniscence was in order. Each was the hero of his own hair breadth escape, and the sequels were blood and thunder. Within ear-shot sat an old gray-coated Virginian, attentively listening and turn? ing his quid reflectively between his teeth. At length he spoke: "Gentlemens, you've all been through a heap, but they haint none of you had a wuss time nor I, I'll bet." "Which side was you on?" asked one. "Nary a side, gentlemens, but I had a very hard time," and the old fellow, drawing out his quid of reflection, pro? ceeded : "Well, when the war fust broke out, I didn't know much about it nohow. I was a studying it out, but hadn't come to no judgment. One night my darter, Mary Ann, was took powerful sick. The doctor he wrote a script, and told me to go right off and get it. So I bridled my old mar*, and started. Wall, gentlemens, when I had got, I reckon, 'bout three miles from home?it was monstrous dark ?some one called out halt I?and I hilted. Fust I knowed I was a prisoner, and the boys was 'round thicker nor June-bugs. Sez they: 'Who are you fur ?' Sez I: 'Gentlemens, darter Mary Ann, she'-. Sez they: 'Darn Mary Ann I Who are you fur ? Speak out I Hurra for somebody!' I studied a minit, an' sez I, on a ventur' like, 'Hurra fur Jeff. Davis 1' They sez, mad as hornets, 'I told you he was a d?d rebel. Git off that mar' 1" "Gentlemens, I hain't telling you no lie when I sez they took me off my mar', backed me over a log, and gin me five hundred. It hurt me powerful bad; I was monstrous sore. I mounted my mar' and started on. I hadn't got more'n three miles when I heerd another voice call out, 'halt 1' an' I hilted; and agin the boys had me. 'Who are you fur ?' sez they. Sez I, 'Gentlemens, my darter Mary Ann is powerful sick, an' the doc tori- 'Darn the doctor I who are you fur? Hurra for somebody V 'I wan't goin' to be kotched agio, so I jest took off my hat, an' sez I as loud as I could, 'Hurra for Lincoln l* 'There P sez they, madder nor blazes. 'I told you he was a d?d traitor I Git down off that marV Gentlemens, I hain't telling you no lie. They took me off that mar, and bucked me over a log, and, jest whar I was sore, they gin me five hundred more. It was monstrous bad. But I got on an' went along. Jest as I was a com? ing into town, another man called out: 'Halt!' an' I hilted. 'Who are you fur ?' says he. 'Hurra for somebody.' Gen? tlemen, I wan't never agoin' to be kotch? ed agin. I jest sez, 'Mister, you jest be so kind as to hurrah fust, jest this once.'" ! ? A woman in a western city recently fell out of a second-story window and struck on her head. She said she didn't know when anything had made her so mad before. . ? "Oh, I've loved before 1" said a De? troit woman to her fourth husband, as she took a handful of hair from his head because he objected to hanging out the week's washing. ? - ) ?Iasouic Incidents. At a feus; given by the Grand Lodge of Massachusetts, Bev. Bro. Young, the Grand Chaplain, related the following incidents, and made the following excel lent comments thereon:. The othe.v evening, on a certain occa? sion, I alluded to the influence of Mason? ry during the rebellion. Since then I heard a story from one who was in the war, which beautifully illustrated the influence of Masonry in the direction of love and fraternity. In one of the bat? tles of Virginia, Gen. Woodsworth?I think that is the name?of Vermont, fell, and was within the enemy's lines. His friends wished to obtain it, aud a Federal officer, who was a Mason, said to the sen? tinel, who was also a Mason, "you go down to the shore of the stream, and if you see a man on the other side, make some signal to him of a Masonic charac? ter." He went down to the shore, and by and by be saw a person on the oppo? site side. He gave the signal, but no answer was returned. The next morn? ing when he went down he repeated the practice with the same result; no answer was given. Finally the officer went down and made r>ome signals, and he soon found them answered on the opposite side. In the course of the day commu? nication was; had, the body was given into the hands of its friends, and carried home for interment. The Confederate officer, in Ma communication with the Federal officer, said that the sentinel ou the other side did not know what those signals meant. Now, it is just that brethren. The world laughs at our signs, aud calls them nonsense. But their object is to touch the secret springs through which we are brought into close and intimate connec? tion with others, and are enabled, as in the case illustrated to close a bloody cbasm, and bring enemies into the rela? tion of friends. And so in the secret character of our organization. Why, all the grand forces of nature arc- secret. God himself is a Sreat secret; a great mystery; the eye oes not look upon him, the ear does not hear him, the hand cannot touch him, and yet we believe in his boundless love and wisdom, and power, and we worship that Great Unseen and Invisible One. Life is secret and invisible. The surgeon, the dissector, can cut the body and lay open its parts; but he caunot lay his knife upon the secret life and expose it to the eye. The air is invisible. We only feel it on our cheeks; we hear its music in the forests. Electricity is in? visible. AH the secret powers and forces that move the world aud hold systems together are unseen aud secret, eluding the eye and 5 'and. So it is in this grand Institution of ours, which I believe we cannot too much praise and too much, love, brethren, nor too much honor in our own uv. alj characters, in our own upright live ??. and in our loving disposi? tions. It if, that very characteristic of Masonry which gives it the power that is, to-day, in a hundred thousand ways that we don't"see, moving the world onward, and lifting it np nearer to the skies, and preaching that love and brotherly kind? ness which shall make the earth we live on like heaven to aspire to. On the same occasion Bro. Swain, the S. G. Warden of Massachusetts, related the following incidents. Although tinged with party c t sectional feeling, and some? what overdrawn we publish them: In the Seven Days' Fight it was my misfortune %o fall into the hands of Stone? wall Jacksou at Savage Station. I was sent to Bichmond and placed in Libby prison. Our men were suffering terribly. We found men whose limbs nad been amputated, and had gone without dress? ing for ten or fifteen days. They were dying as mush for the want of proper nourishment as for want of proper care. Strict order- had been given that no Union persons should be allowed to con? tribute anything to the hospitals, no mat? ter what the circumstances might be. I was not a Mason at the time, but my steward was, and be Faid to me, "I have a power about me which I think will supply this hospital with food. I shall try it, if I get put in Castle Thunder." The result was that he soon had an under current working that supplied the hospital with delicacies and other things which every other hospital failed to re? ceive. " Ana that is what made me a Ma? son. I had thought many times before that it must be a good organization, but I was busy sind refrained making appli? cation. But 1 said then, "If there is a power in Masonry that makes men broth? ers like this, It is something worth hav? ing." That h one reason why I became a Mason; and I thank God I did. Bee Notes for May. This is tht most important month of the year to the. apiarian?as during May the best swarms are cast, if natural swarming is allowed. Or if artificial swarms are made, the most successful are those made during this month; And the finest surplus honey is that secured during the two last weeks of May and two first of June. I gave last spring directions for making articial swarms, and now, at the risk of bcc'ug tedious to old bee? keepers, will give my manner of dealing with natural ones. I have never found that beating pans, &c., had any effect in causing swarms to settle; and I suppose the custom arose from a natural desire to do something in a position where there was a feeling of perfect helplessness. The best plan is to let the swarm alone, and as the queen is heavy with eggs, ana the bees with honey, they will usually Bettle on some low tree near the hive. If they should fly very high and seem disposed to leave, throwing sand and fine gravel among them will confuse them, and generally cause them to settle. As Boon as they have settled no time should be lost in getting them into the hive they are to stay in, as they are much more gentle when full of honey, as they al? ways are when they leave the parent hive, than after they have digested it, which they do in an hoar or two. The hive into which you wish to put the swarm should be put under the tree on which the bees have settled, with a white cloth spread under it. If the swarm is low do --a and on a branch, cut the branch off vith a knife or pair of pruning shears, and holding it close in front of the hive shake the bees off so that they will fall on the cloth, and in a few minutes they will all go in. But if the swarm cluster high up m the tree, or on too large a branch to cut off without i'arring the bees too much, hold a box or ?asket close under the cluster, and jar the bees into it by striking very sharply on the bough near the swarm. Carry them quickly to the hive and pour them in front of it. As soon as the bees are in the hive, it should be carried to its per? manent stand; for if this is put off until evening, as is often done, the bees will mark their location when going out to werk, and many will be lost when the hive is moved. Be careful to shade the hive in which a swarm has just been put. Many swarms leave every season, and are lost from their hives being so hot that they can't stay in them. If a long rainy spell set in the day after a swarm is hived, the bees should be fed, or much time will be lost before getting their combs Btarted.?American Farmer for May. ? When we are young we are slavish? ly employed in procuring something whereby we maj live comfortably when we grow old; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we pro? posed. ? Nothing can be more absurd than the idea that "looking guilty" proves guilty. An honest man charged with crime is much more likely to blush at the accusation than the real offender, who is generally prepar ed for the event, and has is face "ready made." The very thought of being suspected of anything criminal will bring the blood to an innocent man's cheek nine times: out of ten. Post Mortem Love. Why is it that so many people keep all their pleasant thoughts and kind words about a man bottled and sealed up until he is dead, when they come jand Ifteak the bottle over his coffin and bathe his shroud in fragrance ?v Many, a man-goes' through life with scarcely one bright, cheering, encouraging, helpful word. He toils hard and in lowly, obscurity. He gives out his life freely and unstinted? ly for others. I remember such a man. He was not brilliant; he was not great; but he was faithful. He had many things to discourage him..- Troubles thickened about his life. He was mis? represented and misunderstood. Every? body believed that he was a good man, but no one ever said a kindly or pleasant thing to him. He never heard a com? pliment, scarcely ever a good wish, j No one ever took any pains to encourage him, to strengthen his feeble knees, to lighten his burdens, or to lift up his heart by a gentle deed of love or a cheer? ful word. He was neglected. Unkind things were often said of him. I stood by his coffin, and there were many tongues to speak his praise. There was not a oreath of aspiration in the air. Men spoke of self-denials, of his good qualities, of his quietness, his modesty, his humility, his presence of heart, his faith and prayer. There were mahy who spoke indignantly of the charges that falsehood had forged against him iu the past years, and of the treatment he had received. There were enough kind things said during the two or three days that he lay in the coffin, and while the company stood around his open grave, to have blessed him and made him happy all his fifty years, and to have thrown sweet? ness and joy about his soul during all his painful and weary journey. But his ears were closed then, and could not hear a word that was spoken. His heart was still then, and could not be thrilled by the grateful sounds. He cared nothing then for the sweet flowers that were piled upon his coffin. The love blossomed out too late. The kindness came when the life could not. receive its blessing. And I said then that I would not keep, all my kind words, and all my pleasant thoughts and feelings, about my neigh? bor, locked up in my breast till he" is dead. They will do him no good then. His dead hand cannot feel the warm pressure. Gentle words will not make his pale, cold face glow. It will be too late, when he lies in the coffin, to seek to make him happy, to lift the shadows off his life, or to brighten his path. It costs but little to give men a great deal of joy and help. One brought a bunch of flowers to my table, and for a whole week they filled my room with fragrance. One wrote me a cheering letter, breathing a spirit of gratitude ana love. It came when I was weary and depressed, and was like the meal pre? pared by the angel for the old prophet I went on its blessed strength for many days. One met me on the street and spoke an encouraging word and grasped me warmly by the hand; and for nours I felt that warm grasp and heard that word echoing through my soul. A little child may brighten scores of lives every day. There is not one of us who may' not gladden and strengthen many a heart be? tween every rising and setting sun. Why should we not live to bless the living, to cheer the disheartened,. to sweeten cups that are bitter, to hold up the hands that hang d n, to comfort those that mourn, to bear ioy into joyless homes ? Kind words will not spoil a man. If a sermon helps you it will do the preacher no harm to tell him so. If the .editor writes an article that does you"good, he can write a still better one if you send him a word of thanks. If a book blesses you, do you not owe it to the author, to write a grate? ful acknowledgement ? i If you know a weary or neglected one, would it not be such works as angels do, would it not be Christ-like work, to seek every opportu? nity to brighten and bless that life ? Do not wait till the eyes are closed, the ears deaf, and the arm stilled. Do it now. Post mortem kindnesses do io't cheer. Flowers on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over the weary days,?Bevf> J. JS. Miller. | j Sowing Gbass Seed.?The following directions for sowing grass seeds will be found useful at the present time; -In I sowing we advise, for'obvious reasons, that the soil should be clean, in good condition?the surface, made level and firm and perfectly pulverised by harrowing and rolling. A calm still day, when rain is approaching, is most suitable for the work. After sowing, the surface should I be only lightly harrowed and rolled* ?? A firm seed bed and a depth of covering' of a quarter to half an inch is most favora? ble for the vegetation of small seeds. If covered deeply they .do,, not grow at all, or in very small proportions; if not.cov ! ered, manv of the seeds are picked up by I small birds, and the vegetation of those that escape depends upon their being washed into the soil by rain. Young grasses are injured by frost. The proper season, therefore, extends from March to September; the spring months are prefer? able. If the land works unkindly, seeds will not vegetate well, and a larger quan? tity must be sown to obtain a plant Grass seeds may be sown with or upon land already planted with wheat, barley or oats, as a regular crop, with, every chance of success?except in cases where the cereal crops are over abundant and lodged. When sown without a crop?for the safe protection of the finer grasses and to increase the produce of the first year, it is advisable to add to the quantity of rye grass sown, and also a bushel of oats or barley per acre. The Cucumber.?This, like the melon, wants rich land, having in its composition an abundant supply of vege? table matter. Its roots do not run so far as the roots of the watermelon, hence one can, in planting it, have a better excuse for making the land richest near the hill. For the ordinary varieties, the hills should be made about six feet apart. Put in plenty of seeds to make sure of a j good stand, and when the plants begin to run, thin to two in the hill. If the weather is dry, the plants should be treat? ed to frequent watering with liquid manure, ana also to mulching with some kind of litter calculated, to prevent the moisture from drying out. As a food the cucumber is by no means worth its weight in gold; still people will make use of it?and that is their business of course. The way of preparing it to make it most wholesome, is to cook it Precisely as you cook egg plants, roperly prepared in this way it is very much like the egg plant. To be in a proper condition for this preparation, it must be almost ripe?must be cooked just before the seeds have become too hard to cut readily. Sowing on Hobseback.?Numerous i as have been the instructions of late for preserving the almpst "lost art" of sow? ing grain by hand, there remains one mode that has escaped mention,, and which, when mentioned, will probably be derided by those who have not tried it I allude to sowing on horseback. Sulky rakes, sulky rollers, etc., are regarded as useful contrivances for the saving of hu j man labor, but none of your correspon? dents appear to have thought of making the horse perform the labor of walking, and carrying seed bag and sower to' and fro across the field during the operation of sowing the grain. And yet, after a long experience,' the writer has found that he could distribute seed grain more regularly from the saddle than on foot, and with far more ease and comfort?as any good seedsman will find after a short practice. Grass seeds:- however, beipg fighter than grain, are best sown on;foot ? A clergyman recently aroused Iiis sleepy audience by asserting in the most positive manner that, "notwithstanding the hard times, the wages of sin had not been cut down one iata." - ? - r.' ? ?? A Philosopher's Defeat. "The trial and imprisonment of Galileo form the final scene in the death of the Italian intellect. The most eminent genius of his country, if not of his age, almost the founder of modern science, the peer and contemporary. of Shake? speare, Bacon, Milton, the successor of Michael Angelo, had Galileo obtained an utterance in Italy for scientific truth, the spell that rested upon her might have been broken. There might have bloomed once more a literature touched by the free spirit of Dante, a political progress that would have reflected the Puritanic revolutions of the North. But with Ga? lileo fell the independence of Italian thought. His abjuration is the saddest j picture in modern intellectual history. Conscious of the troth, he was condemed to renounce it and repeat a falsehood. The Newton, the Herscbel of his age, he was forced to abjure the favorite studies of his life, and pause forever in that path of scientific discovery which had already made Italy famous. All the world wit? nessed his fall, and he whose eye had first pierced the mysterious vault above, who of all his race had first brought back tidings of new suns aud planets in its sublime abyss, yielded to the terrors of torture, the fear of death; and sacrificed the integrity of his soul to the menaces of the Church. With malignant joy the Jesuits saw the last great Italian perish within their toils, and were perhaps satis? fied with the humiliation ot Galileo." "When, at the close of his splendid career, covered with renown, yet shut up in his villa at Arcetri, the prisoner of the Inquisition, watched by envious eyes, threatened, should he murmur or rebel, with the most dreadful punishment of the church, Galileo sick and worn with age and sorrow, lamented in letters to his friends that he had ever ventured upon those fatal studies which had served only to bring upon him persecution and shame, a fair-haired, blue eyed poet from the cloudy North, who was just entering with an equal ardor upon the search for truth, visited the brightest skies of Florence, saw with astonishment the imprisonment of its greatest genius, and heard, perhaps, from his own lips the unmerited sorrows that had fallen upon his later years. It was Milton lamenting for Galileo. In the cultivated society of Florence the young English scholar must often have remembered the lonely prisoner who, shut out from all the pleasures of intel? lectual intercourse, was confined in the distant villa. Milton at Florence wrote verses, was complimented in graceful stanzas, and was not slow to return the elegant adulation. Yet with all the more intelligent Florentines he saw typi? fied in the fate of Galileo the quick ex? tinction of Italian letters. In his defense of the freedom of the press, he relates to the English public how a severe Inquisi? tion had checked at Florence all mental progress, how the accomplished Floren? tines lamented that they had not been born in a land like England, where learning was free, how nothing was now written in Italy but 'flattery and fustian.' 'There,' he adds, 'it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition.' The specta? cle of the great philosopher, silenced, terrified, contemned, never passed from his mind. In his youth he had lamented over him tenderly. In manhood, when a mental tyranny like that which hung over Italy seemed about to envelop all England, and a persecuting Church and a despotic king had nearly subdued its virtue, Milton, instructed by the fate of Italian thought, led on the defenders of freedom. And When, in his old age, blind and forsaken like Galileo, he poured forth in sonorous strains, the treasures of a life of study, one of his most splendid similes, one of his most touching allu? sions, is when he paints the Tuscan artist on the height of Fiesole, and makes the chief glory of science lend aid to the im? mortal grandeur of hi* song." All Sorts of Paragraphs. - '-^ Philosophers have done wisely when they told us to cultivate our reason rath? er than our feelings, for reason reconciles us to the daily things of existence; our feelings teach us to yearn after the far, the difficult, the unseen. . ? A little boy was munching a bit of ginger-bread.' His mother asked who gave it to him. "Miss Johnson gave it tome." "And did you. thank her for itr "Yes, I did, but I didn't tell her SO/' : ? Oregon has a new expedient for keeping her citizens sober. Every man: who drinks is obliged to take out a license costing $5. It is a penal offense for any liquor dealer to sell a drink to an unlicensed person. ? A woman recently entered a store and sat down in front of an iron safe to warm her feet. After sitting some twen? ty or thirty minutes, she remarked that she "never did like them kind of stoves. Don't throw out heat worth a cent." ? A gentlemhn in England committed suicide the other day, and left a paper stating that he did so because his wife was a great deal too good for him That's why the jury returned a verdict record? ing their opinion that deceased was of "an unsound state of mind." . ? People generally will be glad to know that charcoal has been discovered to be a sure cure for burns. By laying a small Diece of cold charcoal on the burn the pain subsides immediately. By leav? ing the charcoal on for an hour the wound is healed, as has been demonstrated on several occasions. ? If there is anything that will make a woman fighting mad, and make her want to pull the last hair out of your head, it is to intimate that her butter is not nice, and that her children are ugly. We knew a man to try it once. He didn't have a funeral, but he might as Well have had. if you have an earnest, faithful, humble pastor, encourage and strengthen his heart by telling him that you receive help and instruction from his ministerial services. We say this because we have just heard of a good minister who has been twenty years with his people, and yet has received no pleasant words of approval. ? At Lynn, Mass., a school teacher asked a little girl who the first man was ? She answered that she did not know. The question was then put to the next, an Irish child, who answered loudly: "Adam, sir," with apparent satisfaction. "Law r said the first scholar, "you need not feel so proud about it; he wasn't an Irishman I" ? Mr. Chamberlain is reputed to be a man of ability. He has become a part? ner in a New York law office. Mr. Packard is reputed to be a man of abil? ity. He has no partners now in Lou? isiana. Would it not be well for Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Packard to unite their troubles and their talents on a soli? tary shingle ? ? He was praising her beautiful hair, and begging for one tiny curl, when her little brother said: "Oh, my! 'taint nothin' now. You just ought to have seen how long it hangs down when she. hangs it on the side of the table to comb it." Then they laughed, and she called her brother a cute little angel, and when the young man was going and heard that boy yelling, he thought the lad was taken suddenly ill. ? Young ladies, if they only knew how disgusting to men slovenliness is, and how attractive are displays of nr-tness and taste, wonld array themselves in the simplicity and cleanliness of the lilies of the field ; or, if able to indulge in costly attire, they would study the harmonious blending of colors which nature exhibits in all her works. A girl of good taste, and habits of neatness, can make a more fascinating toilet with a shilling calico dress, a few cheap ribbons and laces, and such ornaments as she can gather from the garden, than a vulgar, tawdry crea? ture who is worth thousands, and has the jewelry and wardrobe of a princess. ? A young Frenchman, to avoid con? scription, pleaded that his right arm was paralyzed. The stdry was not believed, and various pretext were resorted to to compel him to acknowledge the efficiency of the member. It was proposed to cut it off,hut the young man did not shrink in the presence of the surgeon and his instruments. Under pretext of taking him to another hospital for the operation, he was thrown into the river that was crossed. . He at first swam with bis left arm, but finding that insufficient, finally struck out with his right, and revealed his trickery. VEGETINE ?WILL CURE? SCROFULA, Scrofulous Humor. Vegetine will eradicate from tlie system ev? ery/taint of Scrofula and Scrofulous Humor. It I1.13 permanently cured thousands in Boston and vicinity who had been long and painful e offerers. Cancer, Cancerous Humor. The tnarrellous effect of Vegetdte In case of Cancer and Cancerous Humor challenges the most profound attention of the medical faculty, many of whom are prescribing Yjegetj>'e to their patients. Canker. Vegetine has never failed to euro the most inflexible case of Canker. Mercurial Diseases. The Veoetine meets with wonderful success in the cure of this class of diseases. Pain in the Bones. Tn this complaint the Veoetine Is the great remedy, ns it removes from the system the pro? ducing cause. Salt Rheum. Tetter, Salt Rheum, Scald Head. &c, will cer? tainly yield to the great alterative effects of Vegetine. Erysipelas. Vegetike has never failed to cure the most inveterate case of Erysipelas.. Pimples and Humors on the Face. Reason should teach us that a blotchy, rough or pimpled skin depends entirely upon an inter? nal cause, and no outward application can ever cure the defect. Yeqetike is the great blood purifier. Tumors, Ulcers or Old Sores Are caused by an impure state of the blood. Cleanse tho blood thoroughly with Vegetine, and theso complaints will disappear. Catarrh. For this complaint the only substantial benefit can be obtained through the blood. Vegetine ia the great blood punner. Constipation. Vboetixe does not act as a cathartic to de? bilitate- the bowels, but cleanses all the organs, enabling each to perform the functions devolv? ing upon them. Piles. Vegetine baa restored thousands to health whq have been loiiy and painful sufferers. Dyspepsia. If Vegetine is taken regularly, according to directions, a certain aud speedy cure will follow its use. Faintness at the Stomach. VKuktink is not a stimulating bitters which creates a fictitious appetite, but a gentle tonic, which assists nature- to restore the stomach to a healthy action. Female Weakness. Vegetine actB directly upon the causes of tlie^e complaints. It invigorates and strength? en* tho whole system, acta upon the secretive organs ami allays inflammation. General Debility. In this com plaint the pood effects of the Yege TJNKsri) realised immediately after commencing 10 rake it ; ha debility denotes deficiency of the Mor-i. and Vkuetixe acts directly upon the bli'iul. Tijr-^ine is Sold by all Druggists. fTJTT's tt r is 0'TH"E! ' pills TUTT'.v- ? '- 7""' frir*.sf. fV..?s?j PILLS .?Sffi-\Vords of mmc&$m T?TT'S ? ???? ? ? ' ? ? pills' Turr8R^i;p';rriTr.i.v ?ro.f*r'i?r TVTV* Tl.'.tt, M;l>~ f?v l-.i:."j-pills tiitt'<year-* Ifenton -trator or Anatomy i:i DIJ to J'llf^theMedlPaJOollcKPorGrorKln. I,1.??* I&ZI.. 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Patients suffering for years from the various diseases of the Lungs, aftei trying different remedies, spending thou ?a"n.!s of dollars in traveling and doctor in?;, have, by the use of a few bottles, entirely recovered their health. "WON'T GO TO FLORIDA." Now York. August 90,1871 0 n. TUTT: D : ?r Sir :-Whon In Alicen, last winter, I used your Txp-*?tornnt fcr my cough, and realized more benefit ? tr->m It. th.in itnythtng I ever toolc I am ao woll that 1 Trill nor fso to Florida next winter as I lntonded. Sen>l mo one ttoroa bottles, by express, for aomo fKteadK. ALFRED CU8HHTO, 133 West Thirty-first Street. Boston, January 11,1874. This eirtifles that 2 have recommended tho use ol Dr. Tutt'S Expectorant for diseases at the lungi far tho poet two yenr*. and to my knowledge maby bottle, hmve been used by my pattenta with the hap* ple.t reiralta. Ia tvro oafisa where it was thought con? firmed oonsampMon had taken plaee the Expeotor.nt efinatod aaure. - ' e. h. sphaque, m.d. ** Wo can not spoak too highly of Dr. Tutt's Ex? pectorant, an? for the sake of suffering hamanit} hope It may beoomo more generally known."-c?'?ni TIA!? AnrocATr.. . _ , _. # Sold by Dr-tarnlats. Price Sl.OO THE PIEDMONT MANUFACTURING CO. MANUPACTUBERS OF SHIRTINGS and SHEETx^GS. MILLS AT PIEDMONT, S. C. H. P. Hajimett..President and Treaa. . Post Office, address?Greenville, S. C. Hamlin Beattiz. .....Secretary. Post Office address?Greenville, S; O. 1 Eoval Kallock.....Superintendent, Post Office address?^Piedmont, S. C. O. H. P. PANT, Agent, Anderson, S. 0. Jan 18,1877 27 6m THE BEST PUMP llSpi ?>.-:> - ! ? _ "VTOTHING conduces more to GOOD HEALTH than PUHE^A*TeS? Bach is far .1^1 lushed by the n: DOUBLE ACTING STONE FORCE ,- S.tf?^ ! Manufactured by J. C. Nichols & Bro., Atlanta, Ga., which brings.the water.pu^andfxeah from the bottom of the well. No slime or filth collects on the pump or in the well. No snails, worms or green moss gets about the water. It is free from rust or other impurities, and can be operated by a small child with ease, and brings the water fresher than arty oth? er Pump. It is of stone, glazed inside and outside, and never will decay. It improves the water beyond a doubt by ventilating the well, and keeping it like a moving stream of water. With a hose attached, it - becomes a good fire-engine, ever ready' at your d?br to extinguish the flames in case of fire. It is better and cheaper, than insurance, frit* work? ing givei. complete satisfaction, as those acquainted .with it will testify-., j -'uoMnX fjr It is a home enterprise, permanently established, and relies,' ph its 'own merits, upon which it asks your patronage. This Pump is represented in' AndeTsora^lmof^?o&ing Counties, together with the Counties of Hart, Elbert, Wilkes and Oglethorpe in Georgia, ALONZO L. WELCH, Anderson, S. C. ???? VM ? ? ) * .;? ;- ."? .?'??? ? ' ? U-/.t W; ? 1 Send in orders at once for Pumps, and they will be delivered and put in immediately. He means business. _ ' , "1. " April 5,1877 gjj j _38 ~ ' " :!' '"'' ." ? ; .'?'?/?'!?"' BUSINESS IS BUSINESS! AND those who carry on business are compelled to have money. ThaHsour.Situation at present. Therefore, we earnestly call upon, all parties- indebted to ,ns to pay at once and SAVE COST." Prompt payment is a great source of friendship, and It is our desire to remain friendly with our customers,-if they come forward promptlyond-pay us what they owe. Money we are obliged to have. . We offer an inducement ofr one cent per pound for Cotton over market value to those indebted to us, and wish to settlo their Ac? counts. Wc have on baud a large stock of * ?iiieiBr?W5?? t .. < - , ? : ? - ? ? .?,- > , 1_ ? i ? ? J ? ' '????? ' Flour, Bacon, Shoulders, Hams, Coffee, Sugar, Molasses. ALSO, Boots, Shoes, Leather, Saddles, Hats, Caps, DryiGoods, Tobacco, Cj^arC; ; Wines, Liquors, Iron. Steel, \, \ And all Farming Implements^ ->?????-?? Any person or persons purchasing Goods will benefit themselves by caUlngandj ining o?r stock before purchasing elsewhere. We buy for" Cash- and' 'seurroF? therefore, wc are enabled to sell cheaper. Call aud judge for yourselves, and be i of this fact. ? ; ., ; . /? McGRATH ?& BYK1 Mechanics*. rap .1 7 mV THINGS AT E offer the following articles at Prime Cost for "Cash,/to wit?' Ladies' Dress Coods, Beady-made Clothing, ?eniir mens' Shawls, a splendid lot of them; Blankets and VnraiagtMiMUt^:' Our object is to quit keeping most of these lines of Goods, and we wan.t| to, dispose of Persons indebted to us?we mean you and everybody else^are-earnestly re W1 may credit you l We are agents for the well established Fertilizers?the Wando and-the'.Carolina? and sell them for cash, on good credit, and for Cotton next Fall;. ?>.-. & . . rama xU&il o n t BliBCKLBY, BROWJf Anderson, S. C, Jan. 28,1877 g ' j famum rr:/j>x.t .,p*.i v.-t ;-i?sbA.H-m^I WILHITE & WILLIAMS. Anderson, S. C, DEALERS IN DRUGS, MEDICINES, CHEMICALS, &c, LAMT and LAMP GOODS, PAINTS, OILS, VARNISHES, BRUSHES, DYE STUFFS, dr. A Full Line of PERFUMERY And TOILET ARTICLES, CIGARS and TOBACCO, And all other Articles usually kept in our line. - NEW CROP GARDEN SEEDS, at Wholesale and Retail. Jan 25,1877_2__. SIMPSON & SADLER; BENSON ROUSE CORNER, Dealers in Drugs, Medicines, &c., ...... ,...: iti'va -initi -?..?'? Are just receiving a large variety of, FRESH GARDEN SEEDS. f I ^ I From those most reliable Seed Gardens of & Co., and I Johnson, Bobbins &' Co?,' at wholesale or! O 1 . . -infttt'ij ???:<.' tit fri'l ' , reunu ^ . . < ^ _ ? _ ., ;.j i-u ALSO,;t ? ? FOR" .' .. . " :\ Home Made Fertilizer* At lowest prices for Cash. ? Feb 1,1877 ..29 ?? ? ; , THE STATE OF,. SOUTH CAROLINA COUNTY OF ANDERSON. COURT OF COMMON PLEAS. A. E. Bice, Plaintiff, against J. H. Doughty: President of the American Lightning Bod Company, Defendant.?Summons for Mon? ey Demand?{Complaint Served.) To J. H. Doughty, Presfdeiifr as'above inii-f I tioned, Defendant in this action: YOU are hereby summoned'and requin to answer the complaint in this a tion, of which a copy is herewith upon you, and to serve a copy of ybur an-i swer on <he subscribers at their office, An? derson C. H., S. C, witMn twenty days after the service of this summons oh you; exclu? sive of the day of service. ?-<??' If you tail to answer this complaint with? in the time aforesaid, the plaintiff will ap? ply to the Court for judgment against you for the sum of one hundred and forty dol? lars, with interest at the.rate of 7 per cent, from the day of . . ? one thousand eight hundred, and seventy-seven, and costs. Dated April 16th, A. D. 1877. . FEATHERSTON & BEOWN, Plaintiff's Attorneys. To the Defendant, J. H. Doughty, President as aforesaid: TAKE NOTICE, that the summons in this action, of which the foregoing is a copy, was filed in the office of the Clerk of the Court of Common Pleas at Anderson Court House, County and State aforesaid. FEATHERSTON & BBOWN, Plaintiffs Attorneys. April 19,1877 40 6 WM. ETTZNGEB. U. P. EDMOSD. ETTEN?ER & EDMOND, Richmond, Va., MANUFACT?BEBS PORTABLE and STATIONARY ENGINES, Boilers, of all kinds, Circular Saw Mills, Grist Mills, Mill Gearing,, , Shafting, Pulleys,.&c, American Turbine Water Wheel, Cameron's Special Steam Pumps. ?&- Send for Catalogue. Nov 2, 1876 - 16_ ly flTTI) AHITAO The largest and finest ls.H.IiUl"lU&i stock in tho world,em? bracing over 3,000,000 Cliromos, Paintings and Choice Prints, at our enlarged AfiT Booms. All the new and popular subjects at,rock-bottom prices. The Falls of the Rhine, size 20x28?romantic and grand; Scene on the Susqnchannav one of the hits of the season, l'Jx27; Lake.Lucerne, Switzerland, the most beautiful lake in the world; Isoia Bella, a charming scene in Northern Italy, companion to the preceding; Off Boston Light, a beautffol ma? rine, size 14x20, in great demand; Old Oaten Bucket, White Mountains, Niagara Falls, Newport, Saratoga, Gathering Primroses, At the Sea Shore, Paddy iu Difficulty., j Also Yirgia i^1*^^1 Storm, American FrMt, and other 2^ Floral Business Cards, Sunday School-Cards. Statua? ry, Mottoes, Black ground PanelA, etc. Also the finest and most complete assortment of 9x11 Chro? mos, both on white mounts,- blue line, and black mounts, gold line. Our stock embraces everything desirable for Dealers, Agents or Premium purposes, and all should test onr prices and quaUty of work. The right parties car realize an independence in every locality by taking an agency for our stretched and framed Chromos. Particulars f ceo, -Uhwtrated Catalogue on. receipt of stamp. Send for $3 or $5 outfit. Address J. LATHAM 'A CO;, ' 410 Washington St., Boston,Mas*. May ?, 1877 42 * 6m. THE HEALTHIEST 0FtJ3 ABE'- TflABftfl to obstructions In the bowels. -J)9R^eg^.th?m It is not necessary to outrage the palate with nac scous drugs in such cases, Tiis tacst^Bfltoiceilax ?vo knoTOi? Tabbant's EnntBV23CKXT Skl^kx Apebikht, and It ia also the moat<ffl*e?blei! Ota dfifSa a week In your own to' 5)00 outfit free. H. BALLETT land, Maine.. ., /.;-y,- .^ncl T'rp zUihV (JjCCo- Anr/aWeek to Agents. tttflftittree, 2?a. ?.H. 8CHS0S5t8,_. Polen t Port nb le ?*T?3 Patent ~ Grinder*. Saw*, Mill Sn SEND FOB CATALOG THE too tores Life, the ry, immense Gorges,; etc. and new map. Price 0] by all newsdealers, JWSSEULEZ,LO Illinois. ? ? <it 5as flC EOTEATTNE-lfTi^ 40^ 10*ts,TWeJ^?idXT K^qitBB^ff^lHaf 8iaa' -j-f-i--?--Y .)?)0O,W!iVi $5 to $20 ^f^^.,p^^. The Maryland Eye&-Ear:Mtirte. Ho. 66 Forth Charles St., BaJtiwra. ? Incorporated April 9f 1S59. _ President, Hon. J. "W. Dobbin, Jridge'Superior Court The above Institution offen all the tomforto of a homo to pa?tntasafle<togwllB'<jW ewpt eUsom. skilful nurses are. in attendance, and as , the sur? geon in charge resides' In tho house With the fami? ly, patients aro seen^by him isotbr?-,times: during the day, For further information apply to the surgeon In charge, ?- . .;mo(d9Gl'l&K _B , .,, .Dr..^E^RBBDXjyG' TTNPRE CEDEKTED Al V jprarfflOfa] tonlsiaiia State 4^J>i Crf^Wf This Institution was regularly incorporated by the LegiaUture of the State -for Educational and of $350,000. Its. Grand 8ingle Combat Drawings will take-pUce. monUihr-..-It. ,n*vbt,,scaIea or post pones. Look, at the following swine t- .*-"? 'T GRAND PROMENADE CONCERT, F^TBAOE^^A^^SE^l-Arn^TAL DRAWING At New Orleans,-Tne^y,.4*ne-6, < Under the personal supervision and jnanagmaent of Gen. G. T. BEAtr?feGARr\^of L?nyuaaa, 'and ?CD-JCBCAmi?^%Sooo. ' ' ' ?k Notic^Tidtat<areJM Pi fcwioiriy. : Hair es, $5. . Q^f^.f^ Eighths, *L25. 1 Capital Prize of. 1 Grand Prize of 50,000.... 1 Grand Prize oP< 2 Large Prizes o 4Lar|e^iM^itr^5W ?yOM ?. 20 Prizes of. 50 u\ '100' 200 . 600 - u ? r-'f ? APrBOXIitATION PHIZES. 100 Approximation Prizes of $200......?$ 2O000. IftO* "s-?' f;;V;:! -?0-?. 1W? 1.~~; -7-r -p2Q0i,..?.?.>.fwlv?'>.. la.;...^-......-^' 100,000 100: 11279 Prizes, amounting to;;...; :n> : Wilte tor OrcuUrac^aei^rders to .v M. A. DAUPHIN, ?. O. Box 602, New. Orleans, La. Capital Prix?, ?20,000. 1877 - Tuesday July 8. At ??i?;;; Tickets Si each. AMERICA AHEAD ' ;' ? - " ON SPOOL COTTON. OSN'TrJEN^IA-Iw jBXEO?lTION, ?fWe. E??Ci[ rrom'W^?n^f^? of 4uira^ of Me^tOTa'BipldnMtof :H??oB A1 . "Superiority of Prodac?ort^J Production; ;||xceUe?c?i mm ty'of Colors of Th obinery an^A J Completeness % If or sale, .IR Read & Co. ers'; AT SWrt" inaJijicWpe . At.whoTea?e, Crah<* BdyiftWtf ii At?a^fll8ft ft _ .__ herlfrfencfea?d-tliel^tjaili that s^i?sti^4o^S^J" ahy one else,!n^&ini,',ai{c lvexccnttfd.^^lvis** axchft-? elsewhere. .,t?Locat4<j?,,pn.i \rasbk{ ley1* o ,,aa, _JBBpfeg a/7t *iA?Ttaa? vmUS w va/?