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p E. B. MUEEAY & CO. ANDERSON, S. C, THURSDAY MOENING, OCTOBEE 2, 1884. VOLUME XX. -NO. 12. WILHITES EYE WATER IS A SURE for common form of infle med eye?. WE SELL IT WHIi the Understanding that if it does not prove bene? ficial or effect a Cnre, after directions have been oarefully fol? lowed, the sum paid for it WILL BE REFUNDED. It has been sold on these conditions for the past Foul?'YEARS, and as yet we have Or heard of a Case IT DID NOT CURE ! it is not A NEW PBEPABATION, ? AND HAS BEEN USED FOR TffiffiTY YEARS, ! Bat has been only four or five years on the market as a PROPRIETARY MEDICINE If you have never nsed it, or know noth? ing of its effects on ?sk your neighbor, or some one who has i seen It tried. It has cared SEVERE cases '^th from six. to twenty four hours. WILHITE & WILHITE, PROPRIETORS. Sept^l884- 11 ly 1N.F0REIGN LANDS. Correspondence of the Intelligencer. The observing tourist will find much to admire in the French people. In spite of their faults and follies, in spite of their fickleness and frivolity, they are indus? trious and frugal, clean and neat in their personal habits, courteous and obliging to oue another and to strangers, as well as patriotic to the last degree, and possess? ing unbounded faith in "la belle France." We left Geneva in the evening, and going by way of Lausanne and Pontar Her, we passed over the mountains of the Jura range and before daylight were far [ on our way to Paris, which we reached at about 8:00 o'clock in the morning. The region through which we pass before reaching the city is evidently one of the -most fertile and best cultivated sections of country which can be found in aoy land. The neat farm houses, the well trimmed hedges, the fine growing crops, the thriving villages, all give evidence of a thrifty, prosperous and happy people. "Paris is France," says the proverb, but although this may be true to a cer? tain extent, it is also true that the French? man of the provinces possess ?s the nation? al' virtues in a far greater degree than does the Parisian, while the national vices crop ont more prominently in the dwellers in the national metropolis. The contrast between the cities of London and Paris are very great, and in not one point, not even on the score of visible wickedness, is the comparison unfavora? ble to the continental city. . The French Metropolis is located on both sides of the river Seine, and on the islands of the City and St. Louis, by far the larger portion being upon the North? ern bank. Its population is about two and a quarter millions, and its walls are twenty-two miles in extent, and have 65 gates. The annual receipts of the muni? cipal-government are about $25,000,000. The central point of the city is the Place Royal, along which passes the great thoroughfare of the city, from Southeast I to Northwest. This grand avenue, from the Place de la Nation, on the Southeast margin of the city, to the Place de la Bastile, is known as the Eue de Faubourg St. Antoiue; from the Place de la Bastile to the Hotel do Ville, it is called Eue St. Antoiue; from the Hotel de Ville past the Louvre to Place de la Concorde it is the Eue de Eivoli; from the Place de la. Concorde to the Arc de- Triumphe, the Avenue des Champs Ely sees, and beyond the arch, the Avenue de la Grande Armee; all North of the Seine. To the North as well as on the South beyond the river, the original boulevards, broad avenues constructed on the old fortifica? tions, approximate to a semi-circle in form. Among the numerous points of inter? est in the city, it is somewhat difficult to decide what should be seen first; but the Place de la Concorde, on the North bank of the Seine, is not surpassed in interest by anything either within or beyond the walls. It is one of the most historic lo? calities in France and is the most mag? nificent "Place," or public square in the world. In the centre stands the obelisk of Luxor, one . of the. most perfect and beautiful .monoliths ever designed. It was presented to Louis Philippe by Me hemet Ali, and was brought from Egypt in 1886. Its inscriptions refer to the time of Sesostris, nearly 8,400 years ago. . On either side of the obelisk is a fine bronze fountain and surrounding the Place are statues representing eight .of the principal cities of France. To the East , are the gardens and palace of the Tuileries, with the Louvre beyond; to the West the Champs Elysees with the Arc da Triomphe in the distance; on the South is the Seine, with the Pont de la Concorde connecting with the buildings of the Corps Legislatif on the other bank, and on the North are the offices of the Marine Department, and at the end of Rue Royal, the Mamalaine. This square has had a bloody history. Here at the marriage of Louis XVI and Marie An? toinette in 1770 a panic resulted in the death of more than one thousand persons. Here in 1793 the guillotine was set up and numbered among its thousands of victims/the King Louis XVI, Charlotte Corday, Marie Antoinette, Danton, Robespierre and others. Here also occnrred one of the most desperate strug? gles of the Commune in 1871. Three times have , foreign armies encamped here. The Russians in 1814, the English in 1815 and the Prussians in 1871; and yet to tee the Place de la Concorde of to? day, filled with the life, the beauty, the fashion of this gay capitol, one would never dream of the sanguinary scenes it has witnessed in the past. East of the Place de la Concorde, be? yond the gardens, is the palace of the Tuileries, which was destroyed by the Communists of 1871. The place is now occupied by temporary structures used by the Post Office department until the com? pletion of their new building. Beyond this is the palace of the Louvre, also par? tially destroyed by the Commune, but since rebuilt It is an immense pile of buildings, with a frontage of nearly half a mile on the Rue de Rivoli, and lying between that avenue and the river. The Eastern portion of the palace was occu? pied in 1572 by Catherine de Medici and her boo, Charles IX, and here that weak and bigoted monarch consented to the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew, the great bell of the church of St. Germaine L'Auxerrois, just opposite, tolling forth the dread signal throughout that awful night. The Louvre is a vast store-house of both ancient and modern art. Its gal? leries of sculpture contain an immense collection of the best work of the Grecian masters, including the Venus de Milo, the Borghese Gladiator, the Apollo Sauroktonos and many others, as well as a large number of the best works of more modern artists; while the acres of canvas in the picture galleries include Murillo's Immaculate Conception, purchased in 1852 for $123,000, Paul Veronese's Mar? riage at Cana, with many other master? pieces and an innumerable and invalua? ble collection of the works of the best artists of all nations and all schools. About a half a mile East of the Louvre is the new Hotel de Ville, or City Hall, built on the site of the old structure which was destroyed in 1871. The new Hall Is said to fully equal if not surpass its predecessor in point of magnificence and architectural beauty. Still farther on we see the tall "Column of July" ris? ing to a height of 154 feet in the Place de la Bastile, famous as the locatioo of that ancient prison, destroyed in the first revolution, the outline of whose founda? tions is marked in white stone in the pavement of the square. The column was erected in 1840 in memory of the "July heroes," and bears the names of G15 victims who fell during the Revolu? tion. On the South side .of the river, and nearly South of the Louvre, is the palace of the Luxombourg, with its.extensive gardens and its fine collection of modern paintings and statuary. Farther West, the great gilded dome of the Hotel des Invalides attracts our attention. This cathedral-looking structure was built in 1680, but was prepared as a tomb for the first of the Bonapartes by Louis Philippe in 1840, the remains being brought from St. Helena and deposited here in Decem? ber of that year* The tomb is an open, circular crypt, 86feet in diameter, directly beneath the dome. The sarcophagus is of red Finland granite, is 14 feet high, 13 feet in length and weighs 67 tons. All around are battle flags and statues of vic? tory and in the floor is a laurel wreath wrought in costly mosaic. Above the door of the crypt is the following inscrip? tion, taken from the will of Napoleon: "I desire that my ashes may repose upon the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have ever loved." Within the same building are also buried Duroc and Bertrand, and Joseph and Jerome Bonaparte. Standing by the side of this solemn crypt, with the gorgeous light from, the stained glass j windows shedding an almost supernatural glory over the scene, and gating down upon the massive sarcophagus which con? tains all the mortal remains of this mighty conqueror, his wondrous history cornea back to us, and while the folly of human ambition is made more evident, our admiration for the genius and ability of*this remarkfble man increases. We see bim, a subaltern from Corsica, rising by bis own ability, until, crowned by his own.hand, he is seated on the throne of France. We see bim in Egypt, electri? fying his army with these words: "Sol? diers 1 from the summit of. the pyramids forty centuries are looking down npon you." We see him at the bridge of Lodi, leading at the bead of his troops the des? perate charge. All over Europe his eagles were borne and tbe echoes of bis cannon were beard; until, crashed by tbe strength of a continent^ this inter? loper, this man of tbe people, fell. His rise and fall, and the subsequent history of France contains lessons for the na? tions. A short distance from the Hotel des Invalides, which, by the way, was founded by Louis XIV, as a home for old soldiers and contains accommodations for about 5,000 pensioners, is the Military School, facing on the Northwest the Champs de Mars, a broad open field now used as a parade ground, but where the Exposition of 1878 was held. Just across the Seine is the Palace of the Trocadero, tbe only permanent building erected for the exhi? bition. It is' in the form of a semi-circle, facing the river, and is occupied by vari? ous art museums, ethnological collec? tions, etc. Nearly North of the Trocadero is the Arc de Triompho, at the Northwest end of tbe Champs Elysees. This mas? sive arch, 160 feet high, the finest of its kind in the world, was dedicated by Napoleon 1st to the glory of the French army; but was completed in 1836 by Louis Philippe. Its location is one of the moat commanding in Paris, and from its summit a fine view is obtained. From its base radiate twelve great avenues or boulevards, broad, and ro?my, with rows of trees on either side. A half mile to the West, beyond the fortifications, is the famous Bois de Boulogne, a forest of 2,500 acres, which has several times been cut down, tbe last time in 1871; but the kind hand of Nature is rapidly restoring the wood to its former beauty. The Avenue des Champs Elysees is a little more than a mile in length from tbe great arch to the Place de la Concorde, and with its surroundings is unequalled as a pleasure resort. On either side are promenades, shaded walks, flower gar? dens, fountains, merry-go-rounds for the children, cafes chaotants or open air con? certs, and every imaginable form of amusement, which, with the crowd of gay equipages, riders and pedestrians make it on summer afternoons and even? ings the pleasure resort of the world, and gives to the tourist an opportunity of studying to good advantage the peculiar features of Parisian out-door life. Of the churches of Paria the Cathedral of Notre Dame, located on an islatfd in the river, is entitled to the first mention. It waa founded in 1163 on the site of a temple to Jupiter and is a little over 400 feet in length with a nave 110 feet high. The exterior is especially pleasing, the three stories of the facade, with richly sculptured portals below, the statues of the French kings above, surmounted by a gallery of pointed arches and the twin towers rising over all, producing a very fine effect; but tbe interior hardly sus? tains expectation. The stained glass win? dows are of great richness, however, and the great rose window, 42 feet in diame? ter, is one of the finest in the world. The massive columns of the nave present the peculiar feature of Gothic alternating with the circular. In 1792 the church was converted into a Temple of Reason. Near Notre Dame, and also on the island, is the Palais de Justice, and in one of the courts is Sainte Chapelle, a small Gothic building of wondrous beauty regarded as the finest specimen of the Gothic in France. Beyond the Seine, and near the Lux? embourg palace, is the Pantheon, or church of St. Genevieve, tbe protectress of tbe city. It occupies a commanding position and is one of the finest architect oral atructures in Paris. Its groups of statuary are especially fine. Nearly East of tbe Pantheon, oo the South bank of the Seine, is the Jardin des Plantes, con? taining a fine collection of flowers and plants,,as well as a menagerie and valu? able museums of anatomy, zoology, bota? ny, geology, etc. North of the Seine, and near the Place de la Concorde, is the church of tbe Madeleine, a classical structure, modeled after the Parthenon at Athens. Its col? onnades and porticoes are very striking in appearence. Near by is the Place Vendome, with the Vendome Column, erected by Napoleon the 1st, in honor of victories over the Austrians and Rus? sians. More than 1,200 captured cannon were used in its construction to furnish the bronze plates with which the core of masonry is covered. In general appear? ance, it is not unlike Trajan's column at Rome. It was thrown down by the Com? munists in 1871, but has since been re erected, and tbe shattered statue of tbe great emperor restored. As it is to be expected, Paris has no lack of theatres and other places of amuse? ment; but tbe Grand Opera is the only,, one which claims especial attention. This is the largest and most magnificent the? atre building in tbe world, and cost $9, 000,000. Tbe exterior is adorned with numerous allegorical groups of statuary, and the decorations of the interior, with the grand staircase, surpass any other modern structure. Of the numerous points of interest in the vicinity of Paris, the palace and gar? dens of Versailles, with their vast col? lections of historic paintings and their wonderful fountains, and tbe Abbey church of St. Denis, for centuries the burial place of French royalty, were tbe only ones visited by us. Months instead of days should be given to Paris; but ns our time was limited, we were obliged to pass hastily over many points of interest and leave almost untouched many things which under more favorable circumstances should receive greater attention. From Paris our trip was an uneventful one. We went by train to Dieppe, thence across the channel to Newhaven, and on to London, and thence to Liverpool; where we again took the good ship City of Chicago, of the Inman Line, and after a pleasant but somewhat rough voyage, reached our native land and home in safety, with (it is to be hoped) broader views of the world and humanity, and a better appreciation of the blessings we here eDjoy. In closing this series of letters we feel like thanking those friends who have fol? lowed us bo patiently week after week in all our wanderings. We have felt pain? fully at times; the disadvantage under which we labored in attempting to give in correspondence, written amid the bustle and changing scenes of travel, any satis? factory idea of the lands beyond the sea; but if the broken, disjointed and fragmen? tary descriptions we have been able to present, shall be'the means of arousing in the hearts of those who have read them a better appreciation of this beautiful world in which we are permitted to live, and of stimulating in the minds of the young a desire to know more by study and travel of its wondrous history and present condition, then these letters have not been written in vain. Traveler. A Bich and Bespected Texas Man Ar? rested for an old Murder. Austin Texas, September 21.?In the Spring of 1871 there appeared in Johnson County a new-comer, named Berry Williams. He was joined soon afterward by his wife and two children, the latter infants. The man seemed to avoid references to his past life, and there appeared to be some mystery as to the place of his previous residence. Wil? liams, however, lived such an upright life that the mystery of his first appear? ance was soon forgotten, and ho came to be ranked as one of the best men in the County. A year later his wife was seized with a fever and died, leaving Williams alone with his orphans. He made suit to one of the most cultivated young ladies of the County, who, notwithstanding some objections from her family, subse? quently became his wife. His new re? lations spurred Williams to greater ex ertiona than ever. He added to his acres, his stock multiplied, he erected a fine house, and, in fact, his worldly affairs were thoroughly prosperous. With bis increase of means be proved himself to be public spirited. In charity circles he was a conspicuous member as well as a liberal giver. He was made Chairman of the County School Commissioners, and was noted for his progressive ten? dencies. His family circle, increased by the addition of six rosy-cheeked children, was one of the most pleasant in the County. In short, Berry Williams had fairly won his place at the bead of the County?socially, morally and financial Two mouths ago, however, a marked change came over him, which change was caused in some way by the advent of a stranger from Georgia. Later a visit was paid to the executive office by Sher? iff Foster of Upson County, Ga. He proceeded thence to the residence of Mr. Williams, in Johnson County. Mrs. Williams welcomed the stranger, not knowing his sad errand, and she was dumbfounded when her husband came in and, seeing the stranger, struck his hand to bis forehead and exclaimed: "Is there no mercy in this world ?" The wife and children clung around the knees of the husband and father, and begged to know what was the matter. With streming eyes Williams turned to his wife and told her the story of his life. He had served faithfully in the Confed? erate army duriug the whole term of the war. He came out of it with dissipated habits. One night in the Winter of 1871, at a mill in Upson County, Ga., he had a fight with a relative named Calvin. They were both severely wound? ed. Calvin died and Williams was lodged in jail to answer the charge of murder. Aided by friends he escaped, and for 13 years in the home of bis adoption he had endeavored to live down the memory of his crime. In an evil hour an adventurer from Georgia who knew the story of his life made his appearance, and thus his whereabouts became known. The story of the arrest created unbounded excitement in the County. There were those'who favored a forcible resistance to the act of the Georgia Sheriff. The parting scene be? tween Williams and his family was very affecting. The citizens have held a meeting, at which a petition was gotten up to Governor McDaniel, of Georgia, asking him to pardon Williams. The petition will be carried to Georgia by a prominent attorney.?New York Times. She Swallowed Bat Poison. Miss Annie Jacobs, twenty-two years old, a charming young lady of unexcep? tional character, who resided with her mother in South Hingham, Mass., com? mitted suicide Saturday evening at her home by taking a dose of "Bough on Bats." She bad been keeping company with iEverett Hatch, bookkeeper in a large manufactory at Bockland, whose ac? quaintance she formed at a party in Hingbam about two years ago. They finally became engaged. The young man has of late been waitiDg upon a Bockl&nd lady. This fact has apparent? ly worked upon Miss Jacobs' mind until, unable to bear the suspense longer, she on Saturday procured a team and visited Bockland. She called at the factory and remained several hours with her prospective bus band. During the conversation he told her that he bad felt for a long time that they could not live happily together, and that in the future be could be no more than a friend to her. She gave vent to her feelings in tears, but gave no intima? tion of taking her life. Upon her return home that evening she appeared to be laboring under great mental excitement, but nothing was thought of it at the time. She retired to her room and short? ly afterwards her mother was attracted by moans proceeding from her daughter's room. When Mrs. Jacobs entered the room Annie was writhing in the agonies of death. Although a physician made every effort to save her she died in terri? ble agony. Wanted?A Friend. One who will recognize me when I am corape led to wear patched breeches; who wiill take me by the hand when lam sliding down bill, instead of giving me a kick to hasten my descent; who will loan me $5 without requiring $20 worth of security ; who will come to see me when I am sick ; who will pull off bis coat and fight for me when the odds are two to one; who will talk of me behind my back as be talks to my face. Such a friend is wanted by ten thousand times ten thousand human beings throughout the broad earth.?San Francisco News Lette-,: ? Toe Keowee Courier is informed that on Tuesday morning last there was a killing frost at Highlands, N, C, and 'that corn and all other vegetation in ihat section were killed, O??WOfflENINTHE WAR. r STARVATION IN THE VALLEY. Sad Scenei Under the Shadows of Masia nutten Mountain. Shenandoah, of Warren Co., Fa., in Charles? ton Weekly News. During the late war there was perhaps no section of the country subject to such continued and varied trials as the north? western portion of the Virginia Valley. It was "debatable land," lying near the dividing line of the armies, and knew not to-day whether to-morrow would find it under the dominion of the Blue or the Grey. Scattered through the country were farm-houses, inhabited at this time solely by Women and children and old men too decrepid to handle weapons in the field or implements of husbandry at home. These were dependent upon their own exertions for the necessaries of life. Too far from the Potomac to run the blockade and obtain supplies by trading across the border, and levied upon for tbe sustenance of each army in turn, their condition was most unenviable. All that could bo prudently spared, in the first place, had been patriotically donated to tbe support of the Southern army. Then came that inhuman order of Sheridan's : "The Shenandoah Valley must be de? vastated till the crows passing over it will have to carry their rations with them." This edict was carried out with a zeal worthy a better cause. Midnight skies were livid with the flames from burning mills, where was being consumed the breads tuffs gathered for winter stores by each little neighborhood. Helpless wo? men and children looked on while grana? ries, meat-bouses, hog-pens and hen? houses were rifled of the meagre stores that had been collected with much labor and privation. Cows were driven off, sheep there were none, and every horse that could drag a plough or draw a cart was impressed for the use of the Federal army or shot to render them useless to the Confederates. Then came the vital question to these sorely tr'ed people: What are we to do ? Without Worses to till the ground or haul fuel for winter fires, how can we keep our children from freezing and starviug V Up to this time the ladies, many of whom in ante-bellum days had never learned to use the broom?frail, delicate women? bad, with tbe help of grand-fathers and children, or the desultory aid of freed raen, managed to cultivate enough of the pasture lot and garden to supply the family needs for food; but even this without horse power would become im? possible. Equally impossible without some mode of conveyance was it for these unhappy people to seek food and protection within the Southern lines. There seems nothing left for them to do but to subsist as long as they could on tbe herbs and roots from tbeir little gar? dens, and after that death by starvation, or deliverance by the Southern army. The latter hope seemed a forlorn one, and the approaching winter was looked forward to with feelings that will long be remembered in the Valley. a widow's woes. It was at this period and in this locali? ty that the incident which I am about to relate occurred. Mrs. B., a widow lady and relative of the writer, lived on a snug farm, washed on one side by the quiet Shenandoah, and overshadowed on the other by the blue Massanutten moun? tains. Her only two grown sons were in tbe army around Richmond, and she was left in her lonely, isolated borne with a house full of children to support and protect. Up to this time they had strug? gled along bravely enough, even after their old servants -had .deserted them. The boys, though young, managed to cultivate the garden and some small patches of grain. The girls milked the cows, fed the pigs and poultry and helped with the housework generally. The cooking-stove and wash-tub took tbe place of sewiug machine and piano in the once cozy sitting-room, yet despite their privations they kept brave hearts and always had a wholesome meal and cheerful words tor any Confederate that might pause at tbe hospitable door. But at last came a woeful day when these means of livelihood at one fell swoop were taken from them. A band of blue coated cavalrymen came to "clean 'em out," and the meaning of this phrase can only be understood by those who have Buffered the process. Everything eatable, dead or alive, was confiscated. One of the little girls, hearing; the pierc? ing squeals of the butchered hogs, ran out, and with streaming eyes begged for a small porker that was about to be sac? rificed. The rough soldier had a soft spot, (as who has not?) and touched by her entreaties gave piggy into her keep? ing. The rescued innocent was thence? forth domiciled in an outer room and christened "Job" because of the afflictions it had seen in the wasting of its house? hold. They were fortunate enough to have concealed in the kitchen "loft" a few bags of grain, intending to send them to the mill a little later. By parching and pounding this they man? aged to make cakes that could be eaten, and upon this, with a little sorghum molasses and dried fruit that had been hidden away, they subsisted for a time. ".job," the tet pig. In all these days of death "Job" never failed in his portion; his little mistress faithfully divided her rations with him, and be grew and fattened as only such an admired animial could. Indeed, he be? came quite an important member of tbe family, following his owner from room to room like a dog, and seeming to realize bis dignity as one of the only two four footed beasts remaining on the place. The other quadruped was a superannuat? ed horse, blind in one eye, and so clearly unfit for the commonest duties that the Yankees had not thought "Old Bet" worth killing. They little guessed tbe abilities buried in that old skeleton. On one occasion some Federal officers stopped at the house, and seeing the pi? ano in the unused parlor, requested one of the young ladies to play. She com? plied, sorely against her will, but afraid to refuse. Her little sister, attracted by the unwonted sound of music, stole into the room to listen. "Everywhere his mistress went," Job, like the much paro? died Iamb, "was sure to go." So in he walked, grunting his appreciation of the performance and gazing with placid curiosity at the officers. These latter, surprised and shocked at such an addi? tion to tbeir audience, expressed their unreserved opinions of the same. The little girl, indignaut at this reflection upon her protege, stepped to the front with flashing eyes, exclaiming: "If it is a pig, I'd rather have him in my parlor than a Yankee soldier. He always behaves himself and you don't." Discharging this Parthian arrow she retired in good order, followed by her uncouth attendant and amid roars of laughter from the astonished officers. ! Perhaps in the days of prophets the j widow's little store of grainftaight have been miraculously multiplied and the keg of sorghum increased, but in that.1 degenerated time no such thing occurred. Day by day the supply diminished and the cakes grew thinner, till at length one morning the mother announced with tearful eyes that the last of them appear? ed on the table before tbem. An omi? nous silence ensued, broken by the en? trance of Job, who walked around to where his mistress sat and waited for his accustomed food. A sudden look of intelligence flashed into the faces of the older members of the family, and the mother reading their thoughts, said: "Nellie, I'm afraid it has become a question of Job's life or oure; he is very fat and would last us a good while, or else we could exchange the meat with Bob Crow for some corn, and hold out till the Southern army comes and leaves us something. It can't be long before they come to help us now." "Kill Job I" cried the child, "I'd just as soon eat a piece of Emma as to eat him. Oh 1 mother, just wait, anyhow, until to-morrow. I beard Uncle Jake tell Bob Crow this morning that the Yankee General had brought a whole lot of things over to Middletown and that the Bebels could get a plenty to eat if they would only go for it there. Only just wait and let us see if it is so." ANYTHING TO SAVE JOB. The child's pleadings prevailed, and during the day there was a confirmation of the morning report. An old, gray haired neighbor stopped at the well for a drink. He had a meal sack on bis arm, and told them he was on his way to M., six miles distant, to draw rations for his family of orphan grand-cbildren, and advised them to lose no time in following bis example. The Federal authorities, smitten with late regret for the vigorous measures that had reduced the Valley to its present con? dition, had really sent a store of army supplies to the neighboring village, from whence each family could draw rations enough to at least sustain life. But this clemency was accompanied by such con? ditions as to render it a great trial to any Southerner who availed herself of it. Besides, it was a difficult matter for wo? men and children to walk so far and car? ry away a sufficient supply for even a very small family, and there were no other means of transportation. The matter was discussed pro and con in the widow's household, ana the motion "laid upon the table" over night. Next morning, while breakfasting on a few small potatoes, minus salt, there ap? peared at the door Mrs. S., the wife of a neighboring farmer. She was mounted on a queer specimen of a steed, the re? mains of what had once been a stout plough horse, but now a sad wreck of its former self. Having been for weeks hidden in the swamp it was gaunt and fly-bitten, and one of its feet, which had been stung by a snake, was swollen to the size of a man's bead. Still even such a "mount" as this was considered rather a "swell" affair in those days, and they all flocked to the porch to welcome their visitor. She, too, was full of the tidings that "there was corn in Egypt," was on her way now to M., and wanted Mrs. B. to accompany her. "But, how can I go?" quoth the latter. "I cau't walk so far with such a load, and your horse can only carry you." "Saddle Old Bet there and try her. She ought to last you there, and, maybe, live to bring you back. Aoyhow, it's worth the trial." All eyes turned upon Old Bet, who was at that moment calmly munching the contents of a straw bed which bad been emptied upon the ground the even? ing before for her benefit. And all saw that though the spirit was there, the flesh was ominously weak. "Besides," added Mrs. B., "I've never asked a favor of the Yankees, or placed myself in a position to be humiliated by them. I don't believe I could do it." "Yes you can," was the reply. "Any? thing rather than see the children sutler. And as for favors, I don't consider that we're asking any favor of tbem. It's only getting back a little of all they've stolen from us, and I believe in doing that whenever we can. Come, get ready, and let us be off." , "Yes, mother, anything to save Job," summed up Nellie. And before she knew what she was about, Mrs. B. found herself perched upon a dilapidated saddle on old Bet's back, hobbling down the lane in the wake of her enterprising neighbor, beariog on her arm the empty sack that was to bring back food to the waiting household. They might almost as well have been mounted on snails for the (progress they made, and when they came to the river, which had to be forded, it proved a very Bubicon to them. It was crossed though, as all Bubicons are, in the course of time, and noon found them at their destination, where A STRANGE SCENE MET THEIR SIGHT. From all quarters were coming the wretched inhabitants, intent, like them? selves, upon securing food for the hungry mouths at home. Here a tired woman, with a babe on one arm and a little tod? dler clinging to her skirts, appeared with a home-made basket to carry away her treasures of flour and meal. There a twelve year old boy, dragging a little wooden cart of his own construction, and very proud of overcoming the difficulties of transportation. Old men, bent and gray, leaning on their stout canes, and having slung over their shoulders the cast-off haversack picked up from the deserted battlefield. Aged women, hob? bling along, accompanied by tow-headed grandchildren, and bringing neatly fold? ed in hand their calico "bundle"?hand? kerchiefs. Shy young girls, with basket and bag, blushing under the impudent leers and coarse jests of the loafing soldi? ery. All were there, but never a man appeared among them capable of bearing ! arms. These were all with Lee and Eo?ser at their posts of duty. Two or three sorry wrecks of horseflesh, similar to those we've described, were fastened near the commissary quarters, with these | exceptions, the applicants were all afoot. As our two friends rode into view they were greeted with laughter and jeers by the young orderlies and privates lounging around. "Halloo, sis!" cried one, as the swollen foot of Mrs. S.'s horse caught his eye. "Halloo, sis! you've been living so high at your house that your horse has got the gout?you can't want any rations." "No! no!" cried his comrade, "they've been running a race, this one has lost his shoe and they've shod him with a camp kettle!" A little further on another group seem? ed struck with the corrugated appearance of the poor fly-bitteu animal's back, and one exclaimed: "I say, boys, alligator bides ia the fashion for horses to wear this fall." Then they were besieged with offers for their steeds. One wanted Bet for a work-bench, another thought she'd" suit him for a hat-rack. There were wagers laid upon the comparative speed of tbe two poor beasts, and amid this clamer and raillery they made their way to the store. Here the weary waiting for their turn to be served, the questions asked, the impertinences to which they were subjected, need not be chronicled by me. ! Enough, that they finally obtained the supplies, and struggling back to tbeir waiting horses with their burdens, they remounted and set out for home, when the sun bad already commenced its de? cline. If the morning's journey bad been slow and painful, much more so was the return, for the poor tired animals had the increased weight of the full sacks to carry. Sometimes Old Bet's strength seemed utterly to desert her at the foot of a hill, and she would stop in the full belief that she could not budge one inch further. Then Mrs. S. would call out: "Mrs. B., it j'b nearly dusk. These woods are full of Yankee raiders, and we must cross that river before dark." Then Mrs. B. would pluck up courage, wipe a furtive tear from her eye and gently urge Bet a little further on. But this process, often repeated, consumed much valuable time, and when they at length reached the river bank night was upon them. Arrived there, they found to their dismay that the stream had risen some inches since morning, it having rained in the mountain the night before. If the fording had been difficult when their horses were comparatively fresh and tbe river at its usual height, it would be sheer madness for Bet to attempt it in her present exhausted condition. Hold? ing a council of war, Mrs. S. said : "Now, you know, Mrs. B., I've got to go back to my sick baby to night at all risks. My horse is stronger than yours, and both he and I can swim if necessary. You couldn't swim a stroke if your life depended upon it, and mustn't try to cross. But, I'll tell you what you can do. Go to Mrs. Harris's just through the woods, there's a near cut through the fields, and stay there all night. I will call by and tell the chil? dren not to be uneasy about you." "But," cried Mrs. B., "bow'can I find my way to Mrs. Harris's. It's too dark to see the road." "There's no road to see. Just cross the corner of this field and skirt the edge of tbe woods for a little way, and you can see the lights from the house just below tbe hill." A LONELY NIGHT IN THE WOODS. With these directions she was com? pelled to content herself, and waiting on the bank she saw her companion plunge into the stream. Then she heard the splash and struggle through the rushing waters, and, after what seemed an eter? nity, heard the faint sound of the horse's hoofs as he struck tbe further shore. Then a feeling of forlornness came over her such as she bad never felt before, as she turned to seek the house of the neighbor with whom she purposed spend? ing the night. She followed tbe direc? tions given as well as she could, but, after stumbling along through the dark? ness awhile, and finding no signs of hu? man habitation near, felt sure she must have lost her way. Once she heard the baying of dogs, and tried to guide her? self by the sound, but it grew fainter, and she knew she was going away from instead of approaching them. Tbe read? er must recollect there were no enclosed fields then; the fences had been long ago devoured by a hundred campfiree. The country was like open prairie, road? ways were abandoned in favor of "short cuts" and were overgrown with brambles and grass, old landmarks bad disappeared, and one might wander without let or hindrances for miles through the desola? ted country with but little to guide his way. Hence it was impossible for Mrs. B. to guess where she was or what course lo pursue. By the faint glimmer of the stars she could see that she was in an old stump field?an impassable river on one side and a dismal wood on tbe other. In her despair she thought of shouting aloud for help. Then she remembered that the camp of tbe enemy could not be very far distant, and her dread at be? ing discovered by some of the roving parties of soldiery was greater than her fear of spendiug the chilly, lonely night in this terrible solitude. She continued lo struggle blindly on, till at length old Bet, who bad been giving unmistakable signs of failing, stopped short with a groan, trembling in every limb. Accepting tbe inevitable with the :almnes9 of despair, Mrs. B. dismount? ed, took off tbe sack and saddle and pre? pared to camp for tbe night. She first took some meal from the bag and held it to the horse's mouth. It was eagerly devoured, and as much more as she felt she could spare. Then tbe night being i cool one even for autumn, she wrapped the saddle blanket about her, and so re? clining on the saddle with her head rest? ing on her precious stores, she waited with what patience she might for day? light and release. The wind sighed mournfully through the dry rustling broom-sedge where she lay, and the air seemed full of moans and whispers. Sometimes there came from the woods tbe boot of an owl, then the cracking of a dty branch, sharp and sudden as the report of a pistol, would startle the over? wrought nerves. Many times she fan? cied she could hear the muffled tread of horses or stealthy steps of soldiers ap? proaching, and her blood curdled in her veins, and she waited with bated breath and closed eyes, fearing the fate that might befall her. The half-charred, half-bleached stumps around assumed uncanny shapes in the dim, weird light. Sometimes they seemed like crouching beasts of prey, ready to spring upon her; sometimes they seemed misshapen human figures rising from tbe ground. Then again she seemed in the midst of an old neglected burial ground and these were the grotesque stones that marked the forgotten graves. Then came to her remembrance all the horrible tales she had beard when a child, stories of ghosts and demons, of sorcery and crime, told by the negro nurses as they sat by the blazing kitchen fire in the old home. All the vague superstitions buried with her childhood returned to haunt her now with redoubled horrors as she cowered alone in the gloom and silence there. Then, too, there were the real, tangible troubles, the ever recurring thought of the children at home, tbeir unprotected condition, their grief and despair if she should never live to get back to them. The only comfort she had through the cold, weary hours of that dreadful night was the proximity of old Bet. 'Twas something to have near her a living, breathing creatur? of whom she was not afraid. And the norse, either attracted by tbe food or with a vague sense of companionship, remained close beside her, occasionally rubbing her gently with her nose, as though to assure her that she, too, was keeping vigil. MORNING AT LAST. Finally, wheu the chill and loneliness and fatigue had become almost insup? portable, she heard a cock crow quite near, then another, and she Jinew that morning was at band. The dawn at last faintly streaked the easteru sky, and soothed and relieved by the sight tbe tired woman sank into a profound slum? ber. Tbe sun shining full in her face ? awakened her, and rising stiffly she rub? bed her eyes, looked around and remem* bered where she was. The horse was still near, and 'twas the work of but a few moments to saddle and equip her for her journey. A column of smoke ascend-, ing above a bill to the left suggested that a dwelling was not far off. Turning in tbat direction and proceeding a few hundred yards, she came in sight of the very bouse she bad sought so vainly the night before. It was too provoking to think her having been within such easy reach of shelter and safety and to have missed it as she did. The cause, too, was apparent enough now when she looked back to her starting point. In? stead of moving iu the direction indica? ted, she bad been all that time traveling in a circle and going over the same ground. She was soon made welcome to her neighbor's bouse, and had sympathetic listeners to her story of "hairbreadth 'scapes." All possible aid and comfort was afforded her. One of the boys car? ried her across the river in a small boat, and conveyed her bag of provisions from tbencc to the house for her. There how she was welcomed and made much of and pitied ; how tbat precious sack was ^nened and part of its contents con verteu into a savory dinner, such as had not cheered them for weeks; how Job was released from durance by his little mistress, who had previously hidden him in the cellar for safety, it is not my part to tell. But I must relate the fact that old Bet survived that journey, and as soon as she felt strong enough for the undertaking left Mrs. Harris's protec? tion and struck out forborne. Theresbe appeared one morning standing expect? antly before the door, and was received with joyful acclamations by the whole family, and another straw bed was empt? ied for her delectation. Little Nellie's devotion to her swinish protege brought its own reward. Event? proved that there had been a mistake in the christening of the animal. Instead of "Job" it should have been "Tabitha," or "Elizabeth," or "Deborah," This fact received confirmation when, as time passed, she presented her mistress with a number of infantile copies of herself. These grew and flourished wonderfully to a pig, rnd furnished the small family not only with bacon, lard and spare ribs the next season, but enough was sold of their flesh to supply many a deficiency in other necessaries of life. "Mrs. Job" herself, as we must now call her, was not sacrificed to these needs, but liv?d to a green old age, the "progenitress" ~?r many a family of curly-tailed descen? dants. Even when peace was declared and the sons of the house returned to their "own vine and figtree," the broken fortunes of the family rendered such addition to their means of subsistence, very necessary. The writer remembers attending an entertainment in honor of the returned soldiers after the close of the war and meeting with Miss Nellie clad in a' very becoming "store-bought" dress with ac? companying ribbons, and a pair of fine cloth boots upon her feet. Remarking upon the unwanted resplendence of this attire, she asked the young lady if she bad received, as was very common then, a box from some friends residing in the North. "Oh no," she replied. "Job got these for me. At least, the last lot of pigs I sold brought the money for them. And, more than this, only think, I sent on and bought mother some real 'store tea' and coffee too." An Outrage on Decency. Dispatch to the Sunday News. New York, September 20.?-A wild attempt was made to day to explode a new scandal against Cleveland, in answer, f>erbaps, to the second batch of Mulligan etters. All the papers have received slips giving the result of tjjje Rev. Mr. Ball's latest investigations. According to these new tales it seems tbat whenever Mr. Cleveland visits Buffalo a mysterious veiled woman appears and takes up her quarters near him. This is the sum and substance of the accusation. Wherever the story has been told to-day it has been met with contemptuous ridicule. The Rev. Mr. Ball must try again. Our eminent citizens are still conspic? uously, absent from the Blaine camp here. H. H. H. The story referred to by the Sunday News correspondent is evidently tbat which was contained in a Cleveland, Ohio, dispatch to the Chicago News, and published on the 18th inst. In substance it in as follows: The Rev. George H. Ball, pastor of the Hudson street Baptist Church, of Buffa? lo, writing to the Rev. D. H. Muller, D. D., pastor of the Scoville avenue Metho? dist Episcopal Church of this city, dis? cusses the alleged licentiousness and immorality of Gro7er Cleveland. Dr. Muller was for several years a member of the Methodist Episcopal Conference in Western New York, was for eleven years a pastor in Buffalo, ia an honorary mem? ber of the Ministers' Association of that city, and is personally acquainted with Dr. Ball. Dr. Muller says he was desir- . ous, as a Christian minister, to obtain a concise statement of the case tbat could be depended upon, and in tbat spirit wrote to Dr. Ball, and yesterday received an answer in which the doctor says: "Grover Cleveland was little known in Buffalo till he was nominated for mayor. He averaged fairly as a lawyer; many years ago he served as sheriff; he lived secluded from general society; he was brought before the public by acckent; his private morals were presumed to be correct. Before his nomination for the Presidency his deeds of darkness began to come to light. The Rochester Union, Boston Globe and other newspapers ad? vertised his uncbastity. Prominent Democrats in Buffalo confirmed the bad reports, and physicians, police officers, detectives and other citizens whose pro? fessional duties or business relations made them cognizant of the facts related them privately to some of our pastors. The shocking disclosures were discussed at the ministers' meeting. Letters were written by several of the pastors to editors of Christian journals to put them on their guard. Investigations disclosed still more proof of debaucheries too horible to relate and too vile to be readily be? lieved. For many years days devoted to business have been followed by nights of sin. He had lived a bachelor, bad no home, and avoided the restraints even of hotel or boarding-house life. TbeHalpin case was not solitary. Women now married and anxious to cover the sins of their youth have been his victims, and are now alarmed lest their relations to bim shall be exposed. Some disgraced and broken hearted victims of his lust now slumber in the grave. Abundant rumors implicate him at Albany. Well authenticated facts convict him in Buffa? lo. His repeated visits to Ibis city have been preceded with one or two exceptions by the appearance of a veiled female at the foot of the stairs leading to bis rooms. She has entered bis rooms, set things in order, remained with him while be re? mained, and departed when be returned to the capital. ? Three negroes were bitten by a mad dog uear Ridge Spring, Edgefield Coun? ty, last week. Tl e dog was killed after? wards. ? There is a soap-factory in Charlotte that turns out two tons of soap a day. A dozen different brands, of toilet soaps ? are manufactured.