The Anderson intelligencer. (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, November 13, 1884, Image 1
ANDERSON, S. C, THURSDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 13, 1884.
VOLUME XX.?NO. 18
WHAT ARE YOU
GOING TO DO ABOUT IT ?
3
NOW IS YOUR BEST OPPORTUNITY TO BUY
TT
Chandeliers,
Parlor and. Library
T
We are selling LANTERNS at bottom pri
xses^something every household should have.
We have the largest stock of LAMPS in
Anderson, and ask that you come and see
them. .
Elegantly Decorated Shades,
.Polished Brass Library Lamps,
Nickle Student and ffitchcock Lamps,
Silvered Reflectors,
And anything in the Lamp Line that you can
want.
We have bought these Goods in large
quantities anji at manufacturers' prices.
Gall and get our prices before buying.
Respectfully,
WILHITE & WILHITE
Nov6,1884 17
MISS BELLA KEYS
Has received a handsome assortment of
FALL AND WINTER MILLINERY GOODS,
TO. which she calls the attention of the Ladies, and asks an inspection of her Goods,
as she is satisfied she can give satisfaction in bo ;h Goods and prices.
Booms in WAVERLY HOUSE BUILDING, first door above Simpson, Reid <fc Co.'a
Drag Store.
Oct2;1881 V : 12 2m
GOODS WERE NEVER SO LOW.
This fact We are prepared to Prove to our Friends and
Customers who may favor us with a call.
WE are now receiving the largest and most carefully selected Stock of General Mer?
chandise which we have ever purchased, and will make it to your interest to
call and examine for yourselves. We have added to the lines usually kept by us many
new and desirable ones, embracing?
Ladies' Dress Goods, Flannels, Suitings, Shawls, &c,
And the best CORSET on the market at 50c, worth $1.00. Also, a
A LARGE LINE OF READY MADE CLOTHING,
HATS, TRUNKS, UMBRELLAS,
BLANKETS, SADDLES and HARNESS.
. Also, the Celebrated "NEW GLOBE" SE[IRT-the king of all Shirts. It needs
only to be worn to be appreciated.
We are agents for the Celebrated Mishawaka Sulkj- Piows, Cultivators and Hand
Turning Plows. ^
The "White Hickory" and "Hickman" ona and two-horse WAGONS, every one of |
which we guarantee.
The attention of Ginners and Farmers is called to our?
COTTON SEED AND GRAIN CRUSHER,
By which yon can crush your Cotton Seed and. make your Fertilizer.
Get our prices on Plantation and Gin House Scales, Cotton Gins, Feeders and Con?
densers and General Farm Machinery.
We are at all times in the Cotton Market, find will do yon right. We will pay all
parties who owe ns for Supplies and Guano an extra price.
A large lot of BAGGING and TIES at lowest prices.
McCULLY, CATHCART & CO.
Oct2,1881 12
THE NEW FIRM.
CUNNINGHAM & FOWLER,
Successors to J. G. Cunningham & Co., dealers in
DBY GOODS, GEOOEBIES, HATS, BOOTS, SHOES,
II A R. r> WAR E ,
?And a full line of EVERYTHING usually kept in a General Stock.
Also, the world-renowned Dixie Plow. Agents for Jlilbum and Old
Hickory Wagons, and the lolnmbos Buggy, the beat in the world for the
money.
?&* We want all the money that is due us this Fall on any account?Merchandise,
Guano, or otherwise. The Books, Notes and Accounts of the late Firm of J. G. Cun?
ningham & Co. are in our hands for collection, and must be settled in some way.
Thanking onr friends for past patronage, we ask a continuance of the same. Come
to see us. W? will do you right.
CTJISrmNGHAM & FOWLER.
Oct9,1884 18
THE TIMELY WARNING
A THBILLING STORY.
My father, after an absence of tbree
years, returned to the house bo dear to
bim. He bad made bis last voyage, and
rejoiced tb have reached a haven of rest
from the perils of the sea. During his
absence I had grown from a child and
babe of my mother's?for I was her
youngest?into a rough, careless, and
headstrong boy. Her geDtle voice no
longer restrai ned me. I was often willful,
and sometimes disobedient. I thought it
indicated manly auperiority to be inde?
pendent of a woman's influence. My
father's return was a fortunate circum?
stance for me. He soon perceived the
spirit of';n3ubordination stirring within
me. X .saw.by his manner that it dis?
pleased him, although for a few days he
said nothing to me about it.
It was an afternoon in October, bright
and golden, that my father told .me to
get my Hat and take a walk with him.
We turned down a narrow lane into a
fine open Seid?a favorite play-ground
for the .children in the neighborhood.
After talking cheerfully on different
topics for a while, my father asked me if
I observed that huge shadow thrown by
a mass of rocks that stood in the middle
of the.field. I replied that I did.
"My father owned this land," said he.
"It was ray. play-ground when a boy.
That rock stood then. To me it is a
beacon, and whenever I look at it I recall
a dark.spot in my life?an event so pain?
ful to dwell upon, if it were not as a
warning to you, I should not speak of ft.
Listen then, my dear boy, and learn
wisdom from your father's errors.
My father died when I was a mere
child. I was the only sen. My mother
was a gentle, loving woman, devoted to
her children and beloved by everybody.
I remember her pate, beautiful face, her
sweet affectionate smile, (her kind and
tender voice. In my childhood I loved
her intensely. I was never happy apart
from her, and she, fearing I was becoming
too much of a baby, sent me to the high
school in the village. After associating
for a time with rude, rough boys, I lost
in a measure, my fondness for home and
my reverence for my mother; and it
became more and more difficult for her
to restrain my impetuous nature. I
thought it indicated a wa nt of manliness
to yield to her authority or to appear
penitent,1 although I know that ray con?
duct pained her. The epithet I most
dreaded was girl boy. I could not bear
to hear It said by my companions that I
was tied to ray mother's apron strings.
From a quiet, home loving child, I soon
became a wild, boisterous boy.? My dear
mother .used every persuasion to iuduce
me to seek happiness within the precincts
of home. She exerted herself to make
our fireside attractive, and my sister,
following her sacrificing example, sought
to entice- me by planning games and
diversions for my entertainment. I saw
all this, but did not heed it.
It was one afternoon like this that I
was about leaving the dining table, to
spend the intermission between morning
and evening school, in the streets as
usual, ray mother laid her hand on my
shoulder, and said mildly, "My son I
wish you to come with me." I would
have rebelled, but something in her
manner s'wed me. She put on her bon?
net, and said to me. "We will take a
little walk together." I -followed her in
silence; as I was passing out of the door,
I observed one of my rude companions
skulking about the house, and I knew he
was waiting for me. He sneered as I
went past him. My pride was wounded
to the quick. He was a bad boy, but
being some years older than myself he
exercised a great influence ever me ? I
followed my mother sulkly, till we reach?
ed the spot where we now stand, beneath
the shadow of this huge rock. 0, my
boy 1 could that hour be blotted from
my memory which has cast a shadow
over ray whole life, gladly would I
exchange all that the world can offer me
for the quiet peace of mind I should
enjoy. But no I like this huge, unsightly
pile, stands the monument of my guilt
forever.
My mother, being feeble in health,
sat down and beckoned me beside her.
Her look so'full of sorrow, is present to
me now. I would not sit, but continued
standing sullenly beside her.
"After, ray dear son," said she, "have
you lost all love for your mother?" I
did not r^ply. "I fear you have," she
continued} "and may God help you to
see your own heart, and me to do my
duty." She then talked to me of my
misdeeds?of the dreadful consequences
of the course I was pursuing. By tears,
and entreaties, and prayers, she tried to
make an impression on me. She placed
before me the lives and examples of great
and good men; sought to stimulate my
ambition. I was moved, but too proud
to show it, and remained standing in
dogged silence beside her. I thought,
"What will my companions say if, after
all my boasting, I should yield at last,
and submit to be led by a woman ?"J
What agony was visible on my moth?
er's face when she saw that all she said
and suffered failed to move me. She
rose to go home, and I followed at a dis?
tance. She spoke no more to me till we
reached our own door.
"It is school-time now," said she.
"Go, my son, and once more let rr.e be?
seech you to think upon what I have
said."
"I shan't go to school," said I.
She looked astonished at my boldness,
but replied firmly, "Certainly you will
go, Alfred j I command you."
"I will not," said I, with a tone of de?
fiance.
"One of the two things you must do,
Alfred, either go to school this moment,
or I will lock you into your room, and
keep you there till you are ready
to promise implicit obedience to my
wishes in future."
"I dare; you to do it," I said, "you
can't get me up stairs."
"Alfred, chose now," said my mother,
Bs she laid her hand on my arm. She
trembled violently, and was deadly pale.
"Will you go, Alfred ?"
"No I replied, but quailed before her
eyes.
"Theu fojlow me," said she, as she
grasped my arm firmly. I raised my
foot?0, my son, hear me?I raised my
foot and kicked her?my sainted mother!
How my head reels as the torrent of
memory rushed over me I 1 kicked my
mother?a feeble woman?my mother!
She staggered back a few steps and
leaned against the wall. She did not
look at me. I saw her heart beat against
her breast. ' "0, Heavenly Father," she
cried, "forgive him; he knows not
what he does."
The gardener just then passed the door,
and seeing my mother pale and almost
unable to support herself, he stopped;
she beckoned him in.
"Take this boy up stairs and lock him ;
in hi* room," said she, and turned from ,
me. Looking back, as she gave me such
a look?it will forever follow me. It
was a look of agony, mingled with the i
intensest love?it was the last unutter?
able pang from a heart that was broken.
In a moment I found myself a prisoner
in my own room. I thought for a mo?
ment I could fling myself from the win
dow, and dash my brains oot, but I felt
afraid to die. I was not penitent. At
times ray heart was subdued, but ray
stubborn pride rose instantly and bade
me not to yield. The pale face of my
mother haunted me. I flung myself-on
the bed, and fell asleep. I woke at mid?
night, stiffened and terrified with fright?
ful dreams.
I would have sought my mother at
that moment, for I trembled with fear,
but my door was fast. With the day?
light my terrors were dismissed, and I
became bold in resisting all good impul?
ses. The servant brought my meals, but
I did not taste them. I thought the day
would never end. Just at twilight I
heard a light footstep approach my door.
It j?as my sister who called me by name.
"What may I tell mother from you ?"
she asked.
"Nothing!" I replied.
"0, Alfred, for my sake and all our
sakes, say that you are sorry. She loogR
to forgive you."
"I won't be driven to school against
my will," I said.
"But yob will go if she wishes it, dear
Alfred," said my sister, pleadingly.
"No, I won't" said I, "and you
needn't say a word more about it."
"0, brother, you will kill her, and
then you can never have a happy mo?
ment."
I made no reply to this. My feelings
were touched, but I still resisted their
influence. My sister called me, but I
would not answer. I heard her footsteps
slowly retreating, and again I flung my?
self on the bed to pass another wretched
and fearful night. 0, God, how wretch?
ed and fearful I do not know.
Another footstep, slower and feebler
than my sister's disturbed me. A voice
called me by name. It was my mother's.
"Alfred, my son, shall 1 come in ? are
you sorry tor what you have done?" she
asked.
I cannot tell what influence operating
at that moment, made me speak abverse
to my feelings. The gentle voice of
mother that thrilled through me, melted
the ice from my obdurate heart, and I
longed to throw myself on her neck, but
I did not. No, my boy I did not. But
my words gave the life to my heart, when
I said I was not sorry. I heard her with?
draw. . I heard her groan. I longed to
call her but I did not.
I was awakened from an uneasy slum?
ber by hearing my name called loudly,
and my sister stood beside my bed.
"Get up, Alfred! 0, don't wait a mo
ment! Get up aud come with me,
Mother is dying 1''
I thought I was dreaming, but I got
up mechanically, and followed my sister.
On the bed, pale and cold as marble, lay
my mother. She bad not undressed, but
had thrown herself on the bed to rest.
Arising to go again to me, she was seized
with a palpitation of the heart, and
borne senseless to her room.
I cannot tell you my agony as I looked
upon her?my remorse was tenfold more
bitter from the face that she would never
know it. I believed myself a murderer.
I fell on the bed beside her?I could not
weep; my heart burned in my bosom;
my brain was all on fire. My sister
threw her arms around me and wept in
silence. Suddenly we saw a slight mo?
tion of my mother's hand?her eyes
unclosed. She had recovered conscious
ness but not speech?she looked at me
and moved her lips. I could not under?
stand her words. "Mother, Mother," I
shrieked, "say only that you forgive me."
She could uot say with her lips, but her
hand pressed mine. She smiled upon
me, and lifting her thin, white hands
clasped mine with them, and cast her
eyes upward. She moved her lips in
prayer and thus she died. I remained
still kueeling beside that dear form tiH
my gentle sister removed rap. She com?
forted me, for she knew the heavy load
of sorrow at heart; heavier than the
grief for the loss of a mother; for it was
a load of sorrow for sin. The joy of
youth had left me forever.
My son, suffering, as such memories
awake, must continue as long as life.
God is merciful, but the remorse of past
misdeeds is a canker-worm in the heart,
that prays upon it forever.
My father ceased speaking and hur?
ried his face in his hands. He saw and
felt the bearing bis narrative had upon
my character and conduct. I have never
forgotten it. Boys who spurn their
mother's control, who are ashamed to
own that they are wrong, who think it
manly to resist the authority, or yield to
her influence, beware! Lay not up for
yourself bitter memories for your future
yeare.
Though the boy who reads this may
not have kicked his mother, yet let him
think if he has never given his mother
or father some unkind words, or been
disobedient to their wishes iu many
ways. Boys, beware! obey your pareuts
in all things, for God has commanded it;
and remember that disobedience to your
parents is sin against God!
Laughtor as a Medicine.
A short time since, two individuals
were lying in one room very sick, one
of them with the brain fever, and the
other with an aggravated case of mumps.
They were so low that watchers were
needed every night, and it was thought
doubtful if the one sick of fever could
recover. A geutleman was engaged to
watch over night, his duty being to wake
the nurse whenever it became necessary
to administer mediciue. In the course
of the night both watcher and nurse fell
asleep. The man with the mumps lay
watching the clock, and saw it was time
to give the fever patient his portion.
He was unable to speak aloud or to move
any portion of his body except bis arms,
but seizing a pillow, he managed to strike
the watcher in the face with it, who thus,
suddenly awakened sprang from his seat,
falling to the floor and awakened both
the nurse and the fever patient. The
incident struck the sick man as very
ludicrous and they laughed heartily at
it for some fifteen or twenty minutes.
When the doctor came in the morning
he found his patient vastly improved,
and said he never knew so sudden a turn
for the better, and now both arc up and
well. Who says laughter is not the best
of medicines? and this reminds the
writer of another case. A gentlemau
was suffering from an ulceration of the
throat which at length became so swollen
that his life was despaired of. His
household came to his bedside to bid
him farewell. Each individual shook
hands with the dying man and Iben went
away weeping. Last of all, came a pet
ape, and shaking the man's hand went
away also with its hands over its eyes.
It was so ludicrous a sight that the
patient was forced to laugh and laughed
so heartily that the ulcer broke and his
life was saved.?Sanitarian.
? A little maguesia and water will
sometimes correct the acidity of a child's
stomach, and render unnecessary any i
stronger medicine. Powder a teaspoon
ful of the magnesia and put in half a
glass of water; it will not dissolve, of!
course, but will mix with the water so i
that an infant can swallow it. Give a
teaspoonful of this three times a day
nntil indications warrant you in discon- j
tinuing it.
Talmage on Bad Cooking.
Without any preliminary words of wel?
come, Dr. Talmage proceeded to an?
nounce the text, on Sunday morning,
which was from Komans xvi, 14, 15.
"Salute Aayncritus, Phlegon, Hennas,
Patrobas, Hermes, Philolugus and
Julia."
The preacher explained this rather
perplexing text by saying that all the
Biblical commentators had passed by
these seven names without any special
remark. The other (wenty people in the
chaptei were distinguished iu one way or
another, and were therefore mentioned.
Nothing was said about these seven. Had
they been remarkable in any way their
features would have been caught by the
apostolical camera. They were simply
ordinary people.
"What the world wants," proceeded
Dr. Talmage, "is religion for ordinary
people. If thete are 55,000,000 people
in the United States, certainly not more
than 1,000,000 of them are extraordinary.
We do well to turn our backs on the
twenty and give some attention to the
seven. There are many of you who will
never head an army, nor write a State
constitut:on, nor create a new philosophy,
nor electrify a Senate, nor decide the
fate of a nation. You don't expect to;
you don't want to.
"Many of you are women at the head
of households. This morning you
launched the family for Sabbath service.
Every morning you plan for the day, de?
cide all questions of diet, supervise all
the sanitary regulations. To regulate
the food, apparel and habits, and decide
all the thousand and one questions of
home business is a tax appalling if it has
no divine alleviation. Food and apparel
affect in a very great degree the welfare
of the nation. One of the greatest bat?
tles of the century wan lost because the
commander that morning had a fit of in?
digestion. Vast numbers of the human
race are slaughtered by incompetent
cooking. The young lady may be per?
fect in music, languages, drawing and
astronomy; but if she is not well educa?
ted in dough her education is imperfect.
"The world is strewn with the myrtars
of imperfect cookery, and it cries out for
a God who can help the ordinary woman
in tbe ordinary duties of the household.
It's high time that some of the attention
given to the conspicuous women of the
Bible be directed to the Julia of tbe
text: 'An ordinary woman, ja ordinary
circumstances, attending to ? ordinary
duties and bearing ordinary responsibili?
ties.' "
Ordinary business men also required
attention, tbe preacher thought. He
likened the average business man to a
neglected clock. After a time it began
to buzz and rqa/, then starts to strike five,
or forty, or six, and suddenly stops.
"Greenwood has thousands of New
York and Brooklyn business men,"
shouted the Doctor, "who died of old age
at thirty, thirty-five or forty. What is
wanted is divine grace for ordinary busi?
ness men. Not the grace to lose ?100,
000, but the justification to lose ten; not
tbe grace to supervise 250 hands, but the
time to look properly after tbe book?
keeper, two salesmen and the boy who
sweeps out the store.
"You talk of Cincinnati, who went
from the plow to a higher position, and
after twenty-oue days' dictatorship went
back to farming. What encouragement
is that to ordinary farmers? None of
tbem are politicians. I doubt if any of
them will be politicians, and their dicta?
torship is confined to the forty or a hun?
dred acres of the old homestead. What
they want is the grace to keep patient
when plowing balky oxen, or the drought
destroys the corn crop, or the neighboring
cattle break in and destroy tbe strawberry
patches and eat so much of the sweet
corn that they have to be kept away from
the water so that they won't swell and
die; or to doctor tbe cow with the hol?
low horn, the sheep with the foot rot, or
the horse with the distemper. You'd
best close up about Cinciunatus I I know
500 farmers just as notable as him."
Having given some further illustra?
tions the preacher got dowu to advice:
"First of all, if you feel that you are
ordinary, thauk God that you are not
extraordinary. I'm tired, sick, bored to
death with extraordinary people. They
take all their time telling you how extra?
ordinary they are. Phenomena is of lit?
tle use. Things that arc exceptional
can't be depended upon. Better trust
tbe smallest planet swinging in its orbit
than tcu comets shooting this way and
that, imperiling the safety of worlds
attending to their own business. For
steady illumination a common ball-lamp
is far ahead of the most brilliant sky?
rocket ever manufactured. How deli?
cious it must be to be a candidate for
President of the United States! It must
be so soothing to the nerves! It must
pour in the soul of the candidate such
sense of security when he reads the ble&s
ed newspapers. [Laughter. |
"Take the remarkable railroad men of
the day. They get all the abuse, while
the stockholders escape. The New York
Central road has 9,265 stockholders, but
if anything goes wrong the blame falls
on one man. The Pennsylvania road has
17,000 stockholders. But Thomas Scott
was abused till be was under the ground
for the companion's shortcomings. The
weather of life is not so severe ou the
plains as on the high peaks. The world
never forgives a man for knowing, saying
or doing more than it thinks he ought
to."
Au Editor's Bream.
He fell asleep after a time, and lo! he
dreamed again. And it seemed to him
in a vision, that having armed himself
with certain papers and books, he turned
his steps once more towards the place,
and knocked at the gate. "Hello! is
that you, again?" said Peter. "Whatdo
you wish?"
"Let those persons again come forth,"
replied the editor; and Pster this time
made them all come through the gate
and stand outside.
They came as before and uttered the
same cries as before.
"Why didn't you notice that big egg I j
sent you ?" yelled the first.
"It was rotten."
"Why didn't you write up my soda j
fountain?" said the druggist.
"You had your tickets printed at the
other olfice," calmly replied the editor.
"Why did you write up about old
Tomlinson's hens, and never speak of my
new gate?"
"Old Tomlinson paid for his advertise?
ment and you didn't. Here's the bill!"
said the editor.
"Why did you spell my name wrong
in the programme? groaned the local
talent. I
"Take a look at this manuscript of
yours and see for yourself," said the editor,
with a grim smile.
The rest of the company yelled their
complaints in unison, and the editor
calmly sorted out a series of bills for un?
paid subscriptions, and presented each \
with one; and it was so when they re
ceived them that they tore their hair and
rushed violently down a sleep place into
the sea. and Peter, taking the editor
calmly by the hand, led him within tbe
gate.
Living Like a Prince.
Curious stories are often told about
men of no fortune who live like million?
aires. Occasionally instances like that
ot "Lord Abercrombie," who lived like
a Vanderbilt for a few months, crop up.
But it is seldom that a man turns up
who can live like a Russian prince, drive
blooded horses, give elaborate dinners
and move among a fast Bet of men with?
out having any money of bis own.
There is such a man, or rather, boy in
New York, at the present time. He has
been going at a terrific rate for two years.
I shall call him Smith because it is not
his name. He is an ideal dude. His
figure is slim almost to emaciation, his
chest Darrow, bis arms and legs long and
his face absolutely colorless. More than
this, it is an effeminate face, with small
features, weak eyes and an irresolute
mouth. It is famili?rste half the peo?
ple in New York. At every event of
importance this pale and languid little
dude is on hand. He has a extraordinary
assortment of clothes, wears numberless
rings and is usually accompanied by a
valet. He comes of very respectable
people. I know his mother and several
of his relatives. They will have nothing
to do with him and his name is never
mentionedj'at home. About^two years
ago he got into a ncrape up town for
wliich he needed ready money at once.
He begged his people to give him $1,000
and they refused point blank. Then he
gathered all his mother's diamonds,
pledged them for about $8,000 and took
a steamer for Paris. When he arrived
there be walked into a commission house,
asked the head of the firm for a pointer
and languidly tossed him a check for
$7,000 for investment. One turn on the
Bourse landed him nearly $20,000 ahead.
He made a few more successful specula?
tions, drew the whole amount of his
gains, which had then reached about
$30,000, and prepared to "see" Paris.
He was then 20 years old. Of course no
one knew that when he speculated in
$1,000 lots that he was risking bis whole
fortune at every turn of the market.
He was so placid and serene during his
operations that they gave him credit for
having a big fortune in reserve. Mr.
Smith made things howl in Paris. He
lived there four months, spent every
penny he had, and returned to America
with half a dozen trunks filled with
clothes, no end of jewelry, leaving the
tradesmen of Paris doleful and forlorn.
He owed money right and left in the
French capital, but he never allowed it
to worry him. When he arrived in New
York he had another interview with his
family, but he was so thoroughly unman?
ageable that be was again tossed out of
the bouse, which he has never since en-1
tered. A little crowd of sycophants
hung around him for a time, but they
have nearly all deserted him now and he
has but one companion?a man who is
said to be an adventurer and whom
nobody knows. The little dude goes
every where, as I said above. He may
be seen driving ou the avenue in the
afternoon in a trap that is strictly correct
in every detail, and ho attends the theater
and the opera steadily. He is cut right
arid left, owes every man money, and is
frequently abused in public by bis dupes.
But the expression oF his face never
changes and he is apparently as happy
as he was in Paris, when at the height
of his fortune. He is k:oowh about town !
by the name of "Jiblets " I doc't know
where the nickname came from.?Brook?
lyn Eagle.
Nose Bleeding.
It is by no means unusual to have a
free discharge of purulent matter and
even blood from the nose, sometimes at
least affording relief in certain forms of
disease?a kind of safety-valve. In the
circumstance already referred tu, in which
the "heaters" are so freely used as to
produce an irritation of the membrances
of the nose, mouth, ears, throat, etc., it
will be perfectly natural for the nose to I
be sore and inflamed, ready to bleed
from the slightest injury, the blood burst?
ing out freely, even when excitement, or
any other cause, sends an unsual amount
of blood to the head. Those who have
an inflammatory, or feverish tendency,
whose stomach and throat are inflamed,
will naturally have sores in the nose and
around it, as well as behind the ears.
As a natural result there will be various
discharges from the nose. If this bleed?
ing be habitual, it is quite certain that
the whole system demands attention. If
it is the result of an accident the bleed?
ing will not ordinarily be profuse, but
will stop when the moderate supply is
exhausted.
Wheu the membraao of the nose is
tender, irritated and sore, it is well to
wet a cloth in borax and water and press
it up into the nose as' far as possible,
allowing it to lemain, repeating this from
day to day. If there are sudden bursts
of blood, some strong alum water may
be syringed into the nose, or "snuffed
up," stopping it as soon as will be best;
or the alum may be made into a snuff by
melting and then drying it away till
easily pulverized, taking it as a snuff.
Raising the arms over the head, or press
ing firmly about a half inch of the up?
per lip, just under the nose, or that part
of the edge of the jaw about one inch
from the tip of the chin, so as to stop
the flow of the blood, will check this
bleeding. One may decide just the spot
by feeling for the beating of the small
blood-vessel.
Electioneering.
"Madam, may I kiss these beautiful
children?" inquired Uncle Oglesby, as
he leaned over the front gate.
"Certainly, sir; there is no possible
objection."
"They are lovely darlings," said Uncle
Dick, alter he had finished the eleventh.
"I have seldom seen more beautiful
babies. Are they all yours, marm?"
The lady blushed deeply.
"Of course they are?the sweeMittle
treasures. From whom else, marm,
could they have inherited these limpid
eyes, these rosy cheeks, these profuse
curls, these comely figures, and these
musical voices?"
The lady continued blushing.
"By the way, marm," said Uncle Dick,
"may I bother you to tell your estimable
husband, that Richard J. Oglesby, Re?
publican candidate for Governor, called
upon him this evening?"
"Alas, good sir," quoth the lady, "1
have uo husbaud."
"But these children, madam?you
surely are not a widow?"
"I feared you were mistaken, sir, when
you first came up. These are not my
children. This is an orphan asylum."?
Chicago Neios.
? Daniel C. Kiser, one of the most
prosperous business men in Southwest
Virginia, rode out to his farm, near
Bonsack, on Friday last and cut his
throat with a razor. The cause of thf3
suicide is unknown.
? The opening of the world's exposi?
tion in New Orleans has been postponed
until the 16th of December. This is
done in order to secure the presence of
President Arthur and congress at opening
exercise.
The Burini; at Sen.
There is scarcely any ceremony more
impressive than a burial at pea ; perhaps
because nowhere does man'fcel littleness
more than when tbe mighty ocean sur?
rounds him. The graves of the dead on
shore in a measure localize their inmates;
and our associations are fortified by tbe
power of referring to the departed as
beings who slumber in green places and
are at all seasous visitable.
But a burial at sea is the launching of
the dead into infinity. The sense of his
extinction is absolute. He is swallowed
up and annihilated by the universe of
water, which also seems to overwhelm
his very memory.
At twelve o'clock the body of Johnson,
sewn up in canvas, with a weight of
lead attached to his feet, lay extended
upon one of the gratings of the main
hatchway, one end resting on the bul?
warks of tbe ship, and the other upon
the shoulders of two sailors. The crew
stood round, holding their caps in their
hands, and near the body stood Mr. Sher?
man, reading the Burial Service. The
mournful and; impressive spectacle was
greatly heightened by the tolling] of the
bell on the quarter-deck, which mingled
its clear chimes with the words delivered
by Mr. Sherman. The vessel wassailing
on an even keel, her white sails swelling
and soaring one above another, and
forming a lovely picture against the
bright blue sky. The water leaped and
sparkled and frothed against her clean
sides, and those swallows of the deep,
the stormy petrels chased her flashing
wake, and gave by their presence a fin?
ishing detail to the v.-hole of tbe sun
lighted scene.
How unutterable tbe mystery hedging
the motionless figure in the canvas
shroud?his name unknown, a waif of
dead humanity snatched for a brief mo?
ment from the imperious deep, whose
will it was to keep him! The seamen
sent shrinking glances at tbe bundle ou
the grating. Tbat he had suffered ; the
famiue had made a skeleton of him;
that thirst bad twisted bis lean face into
an expression of agony which death was
powerless to smooth out, was all they
knew.
"We, therefore, commit this body to
the deep, to'be tuined into corruption?"
The captain motioned with his hand;
the grating was tilted, and its burden
went like a flash from tbe bulwarks; the
steersman turned his face upon his shoul?
der, hearing the hollow plunge; but
those on the maindeck stood without
a move among them, listening to the
final comforting, glorious words:
"Looking for the resurrection . of the
body (when the sea shall give up her
dead), and the life tbe world to come,
through our Lord Jesus Christ, who at
his coming shall change our vile body,
tbat it may be like bis glorious body,
according to the mighty working where?
by He is able to subdue all things to
Himself."
The reader closed the book; the grat?
ing was restored to its place; and the
men in twos and threes moved slowly
forward, talking in subdued, tones; and
for tbe remainder of tbat day at least,
no sound of loose laughter or reckless
words was to be beard in the forecastle.
? W. Clark Russell.
A Tramp's Victory.
Yesterday a tramp stopped a lawyer
on Griswold street and begged for a dime
to get his dinner. The lawyer replied :
"Why on earth don't you get out into
the country ?"
"What fur?"
"Get a piece of laud and go to farm?
ing."
"My dear sir," said the tramp, "If I
had tbe land, which I can't get, I'd
know no more about farming than you do
about sailing a ship. You are a smart
man?ten times as smart as I am?but
can you tell me when to plant corn ?"
"Why?ahem?why, in the spring, of
course."
"But the'month."
"Well?ahem?I suppose it's along
after the snow goes off."
"About rotation of crops?"
"I?I never heard of any."
"And what about sub-soiling?"
"Sub8oiling? Why, it's something
connected with farming."
'And how much wheat do you sow to
tbe acre ?"
The lawyer couldn't remember whether
it was twenty or forty bushels, but dodged
the case by observing:
"The great trouble with the country is
that we have too many consumers."
"Then how is it that breadstuff's,
groceries and clothing are down, and so
many factories are shutting up? Haven't
we really produced too much?" queried
the tramp.
"But as I remarked," continued the
lawyer, as he shifted around, "this coun?
try can never hope to improve till we
have protection."
"Then how comes it that the lumber
business, already so. heavily protected, is
flat, as a fish."
"Say, you shut up 1" hotly exclaimed
the lawyer, as he handed over a quarter
and moved off. "As I remarked in my
opening address, we are living beyond
our means."
"Well, I dunno, replied the tramp as
be pocketed the money. "I propose to
make this 'ere pay for three meals and a
bed, and 1 don't see how you can figger
any finer."?Detroit Free Press.
George T. Jackson a Defaulter.
Augusta, Ga., October 29.?For sev?
eral days past there have been rumors
afloat of a heavy defalcation on the part
of George T. Jackson, President of the
Enterprise Cotton Factory, and a com?
mittee was appointed to investigate the
books of the company. Jackson con?
fesses to a defalcation, but cannot give
the amount. He claims all responsibili?
ty for the deficit. Enough is already
known from the investigating committee,
however, to state tbat the defalcation is
over $60,000 and may reach $100,000.
The money, it is stated, was lost in vari?
ous operations. Notwithstanding the
defalcation, the company is reported to
be solvent and tho mill will continue to
run until the stockholders meet ou No?
vember 8tb. The matter creates general
surprise, as Jackson has been one of:
Augusta's most prominent and public
spirited citizens.
It will be several days before tho full I
amount of the defalcation is known.
The loss in running the Enterprise mill
and the defalcation will together amount
to $180,000. These losses will make the 1
mill stand the stockholders in round I
numbers one million dollars. It is capi?
talized at $500,000 in stock and first
mortgage bonds to the amount of $250,
i 000. The mill cost when finished over
I $$00,000. The developments have
created a sensation.
? Whatever happens, Ben Butler is a
dead cock in the pit. There is some j
consolation in that act.
? A baldheaded man, who has heard
that the hairs of a man's bead are num?
bered, wants to know if there is not some
place where he can obtain the backnum-;
ben.
What n Pity.
Williamston Naiad.
My good neighbor Burr has a very
bright and promising daughter, Miss
Sallie. v.'ho, by her gentle conduct and
cheerful air, has won a high place in my
esteem. Her father is a thrifty farmer,
with every needful comfort about him;
and, though not a rich man, he is out of
debt, and usually lias a little money laid
up for a rainv day.
Being a good friend of his, and feeling
a deep interest in his daughter's welfare,
I took it upon myself the other day to go
over to his house to induce him to send
Miss Sallie off to a good school. I found
him plowing in his field nearthe road ;
and, it being nearly dinner time, he
unhitched his mule, and took me to the
house.
As soon a? I could bring it around, I
told him and his wife what I had come
for ; and what do you reckon they said ?
I am sorry to tell it; but I noticed that
up to this time Miss Sallie was not to be
seen. The fact is, she was down in the
back field, wiere she had been picking
cotton all day long, and where she had
been a regular hand, they told me, all
the season.
They told me that they had intended
to give Miss 'Sailie a good education, and
had expected to start her ton high school
this fall. But in the mean time he had
the offer of a nice tract of land very cheap
and on easy :erms; and they thought it
would he a good thing to have it for the
children; and so, although he had no
present use for it in the world, he bought
it. One of the notes was nearly due;
and the whole family?father, mother
and children?had to stint themselves
and work hard to raise the money.
Now, if that was all of it, it would be
bad enough. But, no doubt, next year it
will be the sf.me thing over to meet the
second note. "And things will very
likely run on so till Miss Sallie will get
so old that she will be ashamed to go to
a good school, and publish her ignorance.
At last some unworthy fellow will court
her for her land ; and she will drag out a
miserable life doing:drudgery for him.
What a pity ! ' R?STIC?S.
Building His Own Pyre.
Dover, N. H., November 1.?News of
a horrible occurrence that took place at
Brookfield, in this State, reached hereto
day. Horace Deland, eighteen years of
age, the son of a respectable farmer of
the place, committed suicide by crema?
tion. It is s?.id that he met a young
woman of Brookfield at a dance in the
village last winter. He fell in love with
her and paid her a great deal of attention,
finally proposing marriage. Her name
was Ella Diniimore. She thought more
of another than of him and rejected him.
For several weeks past he has been seen
lingering about ber residence, but he
never succeeded in getting an iuterview.
Ho refused to associate with his former
companions an.d fell into despondency.
Last Tuesday his feelings reached the
climax of despair. He went out into a
clearing close by his father's house,
chopped down a lot of dead trees and
dragged them to the centre of the clear?
ing, where bo stacked them together,
fastening them a3 firmly as if they were
rooted in the ground. He stuffed a lot
of dry grass andjjaper underneath ready
to ignite and th^_^?Tit back to his room,,
where he sat down and penned a pathetic
note to his parents, telling them that he
felt thjit his life was already blighted
and that he had not the courage to face
it; tha." he had to face death. He told
them where to find hfa body, and left the
noteiu bis own room, knowing that when
he was missing the room would be
searched. Securing two or three chains
that his father had used for fastening the
fox hounds to their kennels, be returned
to the pile of brush and succeeded in
lashing himself-tightly to the old trees.
Then he set fire to the brush. The
frightful agory which he endured is
shown by the fact that after being lashed
to the pile he tried to cut bis throat with
an old razor. The note was, of course,
found by the parents, and yesterday
morning the body, which had been
burned beyond recognition, was found
also. He had been seen collecting the
brush by a farmer, but nothing was
thought of the circumstance at the time.
It was "after that that an inmate of the
house saw him writing in his room. It
is believed that the unfortunate lad had
been demented for a long time.
Bishop Fierce on the Bible.
Here is the treasure which never waxes
old. Here.is knowledge without decay,
truth which ec.duretli forever. From it
comes all pure morality, out of it pro?
ceeds all the sweet charities of life. In
it is the motive power that is now reform?
ing, and by and by will achieve the ref?
ormation of our race,: The old man lean?
ing upon his utaff and tottering to the
tomb reads it and thanks God he was
born to die. The gray-haired matron
soothes her sorrow by its records of love,
and the light of her hope kindled by its
inspiration projects beyond the desola?
tions of death. Children and youth pillow
their heads upon its truth in nature's last
struggle, and die with their fingers be?
tween its promise-freighted leaves. In
the house of mourning its footstep is as
noiseless as an angel's wing and its power
to cheer more potent than an angel's
tongue. At the grave of the buried, it
chants the hymn of hope, preaches the
patience of faith to mourning friendship
and stricken love, exhales and crystalizes
the tears of sorrow, and gems the crown
of life with transfigured mementoes of
earthly suffering.
? A well known young millionaire in
New York has been making a business of
drinkiug for the last ten years. During
this period he has made three saloon?
keepers independently rich. He has the
wealth to live like a prince, to keep race
horses, yachts and travel around the
globe in his own conveyances, but he pre?
fers the pleasures of the bottle. Barred
out from the clubs by reasou of his habits
and association.':, he enjoys himself in an
uptown saloon where he holds a royal
court during the afternoon snd at night
until he is carried home drunk as a lord.
When he settles a bill he lays a big roll
of money down on the counter and tells
the barkeeper to help himself. 3| has
a regular systeir. of drinking. In warm
weather he drinks gin fizzes and whiskey
sours. In colc'i weather he patronizes
ale, brandy and whiskey. He smokes
only once a day. commencing in the
morning and leaving off when he rolls
into bed. This saddened unfortunate i3
the last male of his line, and has an old
mother who still fondly cherishes the
belief that he will distinguish himself and
worthily wear his father's name. Thus
Jar the only distinction the young man
has won is the notoriety resulting from
the fact that he is the only New York
millionaire who is a hopeless and helpless
outcast.
? Major Isaac W. Walke?-, a promi?
nent Democrat, who died in Richmond,
Ya., on the 30th ult.? begged his physi?
cian to prolong his life until Tuesday, in
order to enable him to cast his vote fo:
Cleveland and Hendricks. He intended
to be carried to the polls on a stretcher.