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E. B. MUEEA' J. G. CLINKSCALES, Editob. Vv^he ;ol^ ffiends-of Miss ifoiggie ;J^i*h?Dd-:will be rejoiced to know thai l she will probably attend the Institute. Miss, Maggie is. in Georgia now, but wants to come back to this side of the ^Sver;. V , ~ . . , t . Miss $cttie J^arle was in this office last ^Iwjieki - vSfreind hcr brother will attend , Vtte institute. Miss'Bettie is popular ' as a teacher. Her patrons and pupils love her and rejoice at the prospect of a good'time for her at the Institute. A:v':^^igoi<5ML 08 to know" that quite a number of our trustees are preparing to attend the Institute. One gentleman v proposes to take, his whole family. He f'* wantsi to get the good of it himself and : ?ants :hia family to get it, too. That's -^b right kind of material?where it is jfcttnble, lot the trustees attend.. It was out pleasure to attend the clos? ing exercises of the Townville and ;:-:-Honea Hath Schools. Mesam ?ussell ? iiri^Watiiiis havi doiie a fine year's l". ftork. Barring the destructive work of j ? and its consequent - diseases, a prosperous yearV They jb?ihi attend'the :Ihstit?tet 'aid'will 5 ^ibici t? their work better prepared for it,- .,. ... 'a,- ,_ . Oor waders may think that the Teach ? ers'^ Column is almost filled this week with talk about the Institute. We are determined that the readers of this issue I shall not plead ignorance of the where ' about* <o? the. Institute nor ofits aims Shat teacher who .fails to ?up at Williamston about July 11th fcripple himself, or prevent the . mending and healing of his already crapkeij iofnta. .-? : "r^JBMk'tthis carefully: You are expected i attend the rlhstiiutc. You; yes, you. u are.expected to be there because it b' ? 'iofftMibi^d -jfot" you. You are ex .Wp^ied. to W there) because you owe it to your profession. You are expected to be there, because you owe it to your patrons, '?'f?t?&titn&lng,' they may see through I other glasses and object to your going. v.;You"are.'expected to be there because d,uty^?ays;;go I And when duty says go, *' :&*^^%e*M:4o obey. Mipy of our teachers are now. enjoy? ing vacation. They have worked faith fully ibroDgh tbo Session and now pro ^2Wf?;|d- take, it easy. They propose to : rest up for; the Institute work at Will JansstoB jn July, Then they propose to fit^'ej^lves for the work of the next :kesaio'n/. He -who goes to Williamston ?$h$pJy' for 'he'fun he hopes to have . .would betterstay at home, he will be out . of place ; but he who goes for , this sole purpose ol improving himself will do .'weU and be just where he ought to be. ^^f?y^-of^the teachers of this County . do not live near enough to Williamston r- tareach" that place in time for the morn? ing ^exercises. Do let us beg that as many as can do so will go to Williamston Saturday. Let us have a good turnout Monday Tnornjng-^a goodly number of ] Anderson County teachers. There will bermany'teachers"from other counties there at the first tap of the bell?let us Eot be-ni tha minority. It would be bad ':' forGreenville teachers to outnumber us ? Let os come up like men aud show that wo can teach children to.be prompt by being prompt ourselves. If you find you can't get -there until Monday afternoon, you better gd Saturday. Don't miss a single day, - if you can possibly be on hand. -'?-..-? :. ~-:'--r**??j? ? Mr. W? E. Breazeale, who has had charger of the school at Belton, has re~| ^signed his positiohtheru with a view to going next iieasion to the University of j Yligin?;wh a course in ? ?Civil. Engineering: While we deeply re :. gret t? lose Mr. Breazeale, we can but admire his course. He says he does not ?propose to make teaching his life work r. and.thinks it. would be unjust and un? kind, to the people of Belton to remain -thereany longer. His tastes are for the field and the surveyor's instruments. He, has given entire satisfaction as a teacher, but thinks it his duty to give place to some one else who is making tsachiug his profession. We trust the g#od?people; of Belton may succeed in . getting??'_teacher wtto will give as com? plete satisfaction aa Mr. Breazeale has *';'gl*e^V:;i'Belton.'i8'ready to show her ap? preciation and give her support to the :.man who'shows himself a teacher in the true sense, but will not support one who i? not thoroughly alive to the grand poa aibilitles of his calling. Mr. Breazeale will quit teaching but will be at the In ? stitute. . .. . ."? . _ ? The citizens of Williamston are deter? mined^ ;do all they can to help the officers-make the approaching Institute a success/: One of the thoughtful ones suggests to us that it might be well to : .*pp:oiht two.committes, ope to aid teach .: ereiu..finding;boarding places, and an } other-to ^take whatever: steps they may deem advisable to make the place attract? ive and. tbe visit of tbe members of the Institute pleasant. We are grateful for '~ti.e-suggestion and the thoughtfulness tha. prompted ic, and take pleasure in "vrequesting the following named persons rto 8*rye us in the way suggested: ^- (^mimitfee on. arrangements for mak vij^tbiplace attractive and the sojourn .of the^^teachers . pleasant?Dr. B. F. ? B^ra;.;Jqhn M. Lander, Austin W. Clement, Miss Mat tie Brown and Miss ;:dy%iM8tbews. . . Comniittee on boarding places?T. M. . M?bon;|5^ T. Lander, G. W. Sullivan, ;Mia3 Lila Prince and-Mi33 Lona Epting. who want arrangements made %$f?wpd&f?m'e?-. to write to: any jf ^Q^isj^^ named C?mmi'tee. We Sflwfef?h^ra^iU.n'oY.put off j e r natit they go to Williamston. l;be exceedingly unpleasant for rffJWfiJ5ei|ed to run all .over town l$Mt?. to board. Neglect thi8 ^^*0* Way/regret it. Don't fcMWtfiftin?titute s now. thrown the State,'sod that, whether you '?ffi'vof; ^each^rS; from ?- all; oVer the ite'^ill: be .there; This committee is %ibt?iT6r ybur special benefit now : ?I^jf you like. Y&CO. SAH JONES. The Apostle of Prohibition Opens the Tennessee Campaign. From the Chattanooga Times, June 2nd. Probably the largest crowd, the ladies being in the majority, ever assembled in Chattanooga, met last night at the opera house to hear Sam Jones open the ' prohibition campaign in this State. Every available seat in the entire im meose auditorium was taken, and the i **)! ** ? aisles^ halls,, corridors, foyers, and even the stage was crowded; and hundreds were turned away unable to get in. At 8 o'clock promptly a chpir com posed of E. P. Murphy, Lon Warner, Geo. H. Curtis and Prof. Steen rendered the song "That is Prohibition," after which Prof. Lewis, of the University, en gaged in an earnest prayer. E. P. Murphy then rendered with wonderful effect and force in an inimita blerich voice, . "Marching Down to the River," after which Kev. G. C. Rankio, after making one or two announcements, introduced the speaker of the evening, the famous ;. sAir joses. Mr. Jones advanced to the edge of the stage and said, after hesitating a few mo mentis: "You all know that it is my rule when I'm going to talk, only one can talk at a time. Now you folks over there at the door, ff you ain't going to quit talking get out of Here, right now so that people who want to hear Won't be disturbed. . "My friends. I am glad to be with you to-night at the opening of the campaign for prohibition in the grand old State of Tennessee. I remember an occasion like this in Atlanta. I left a revival in pro gress at Birmingham to go to Atlanta to open'the'prohibition campaign in that city, at'the opera house, too, and. it was crowded like this house is to-night." At this poict the talking at the en trance broke out again, and the speaker spoke out loudly: "We need a police? man there at the back of the house. Will one of you men back there KNOCK THAT FELLOW'S TEETH OUT who is talking; I'll pa; your fine. What ails you, anyhow? Are you drunk or are you a foot ? Is that talking down stairs, or is it some fool up stairs ?" - These remarks seemed to have a sooth ing effect, and after the laughter and applause subsided the speaker proceeded. "I believe I am honoring God in this prohibition work. I don't care for poli tics?if its politics against prohibition, I am for prohibition every time. God is calling to men to come out and help in this fight, and when God says whoal you'd better stop, ole boss, I tell you. I am following my calling when I am preaching prohibition, "No, my friends, the issue is not so much the tariff, the interstate law, reve nue, etc., but it is this grand issue that brings us together to night, the issue of whether we shall protect society or whether we shall sustain the saloons and destroy society. It. is, my friends, a question of the survival of the fittest. Now, if it is better, to sustain the saloons and let society go to wreck, let's abandon this , cause ; let us have free whisky at every point and dippers hung on every bough, and gorge and gorge ourselves until we puke up some of our meanness. But if we are to maintain society we must let the saloons go and not rest until they are exterminated root and branch. DIFFERENT VIEW POINTS. On this question of prohibition in Ten nesae'e, of course every man has his views and they are formed from different points. You will find men's vjewa rooted either in their bands, tbeir hearts or their pockets. I find some men who want whisky, some who want high license and some who want prohibition. For my part I want either free liquor or pro hibition. If it is a good thing let's have it free; if it is a bad thing, in the name of God's let's kill it forever from the face of the earth. High license is no friend to prohibition; it simply dignifies the calling, puts it into costlier places and drives out the little fellows so that the big ones can make all the money. You might as well talk about putting a high license on the cholera, yellow fever, smallpox or any other curse. And I say if its a good thing let's turn it loose; but if it is not good let's not gild it aud con? fine it to fine rooms, but let's do away with it altogether. ' I do not think it is necessary before this intelligent audience to argue as to whether it is good or not. There is not a saloon man who, if he would tell the truth, would not admit thp.t it was bad, but they won't admit it, because their opinion comes from their pocket-books. The papers reported that I said I would give any man $500 who would pledge himself that he never expected to do anything to save his soul.' I didn't say it, but one fellow came to me and said he was willing to sign that pledge. Now if one man is willing to sell his own soul for $500, it is strange that others in the saloon business are willing to do the same, for tbey know they can never go to heaven while they sell this damnable stuff. Money is a great thing. But did you ever bear of a dying man endowing a saloon? Did ever a dying man say: "Here, my son, take this money and run a saloon for the protection of society and for the good of your fellow men ?" Never. * Did you ever hear a man who had any. respect for himself speaking good of saloons?what a vast amount of j good they were doing in the community ? Not mucb. LET PROHIBITIONI8TS TAKE A. STAND. You have 67 saloons in Chattanooga, I am told. You have, say 40,000 people? you claim all the way from that number to a. million, I hear?shall we 40,000 people bow down and scrape to these 67 men who sell liquid death just to let them make money, while tbey make wasted lives, fatherless homes and penni? less paupers for us ? Shall we bow down and knuckle to these men who curse and villify everybody who dares to say any? thing about their nefarious traffic. You see by talking against whisky we injure their business?they are mercenary men. There is another class of meu, some of | them church members too, and they are the meanest hypocrites who curse God's church, who Bay that, prohibition will cause the value of propety to shrink and increase taxation. It would be a thou? sand times better, my friends, to pay a [ little more tax and have the country ! saved and you who' want to see yonr country prosper go to work and eradicate this great evil from your midst. You j will more than save enough in honest lives and redeemed in hopes to pay you for any little increase iii taxation. I'll tell you there isn't a bar-keeper in town but whose support .is contributed to by every one of you. You stand on a matter of taxes.; You Bay to the bar? keeper; all right you go ahead, and damn the country all you please. All we want is a fair divide; you help us pay our taxes. Give us a dividend at the end of the year and we wont say a word. Every voter in this town is a partner in these saloons and receives his annual profits from them. Every street to these churches is paved by blood money band? ed over the counter of these death and damnation dealing saloons. And then they say it will hurt your town. I am tired of that cant expressed in the old saying, "take the calf away and the cow will go dry." Jim Harrison, in out town, said his father had a cow that give milk for fouf teen years and she never had a calf and her mother never had a calf; so that's not so. One of these lies is about as reasonable as the other. The marshall of my town put Up two things as candidateit and met one hun? dred and fifty citiasns of the town and asked each one of them who . he had rather vote for for a responsible place; a drunken man or a hog, and they all said the hog. The same one hundred and fifty men said they had rather have a hog in their parlors than a drunken man, and so would you. What do these saloons do but make drunkards, and what is a drunkard good for? - [A voice from the circle cried : "For the Salvation Army."] "I don't know whether the brother meant for the drunkard to go to the Sal? vation Army to be worked on, but any* way I say GOD BLESS THE SALVATION ARMY. Everywhere I go I say hurrah for the Salvation Army. You can't afford to fight the Salvation Army; you Metho? dist preachers can't, because 25 years ago you were nothing but a Salvation Army, without money enough to buy a fife and drum. j But to go on, do drunkards make any? thing good ? Do they make good engin? eers, good clerks, good anything ? No. Did you ever think of what it costs to make a drunkard ? Sam Small said it cost more than necessary to paint the capitol at Washington ; it cost him $10, 000, and all he could borrow and beg, and then he only got his a pale pink, and be didn't know what it would cost to paint it a blood red. LET US REASON TOGETHER. Let us talk to men, my friends, accord? ing to their views. If a man's heart is wrong, lets talk to him of the glories of the cross and the everlasting truth of religion; if his pocket is at stake, lets convince him that it is better to let-all the money in the world go, tban to burn and cause others to burn forever in per-' dition. One fault with us is that we do not re? cognize these saloon men as our brother men. They are our brothers. Now, suppose, we were all one family and we were dividing up the trades, etc., among us so that the society of brothers must prosper. One is a machinist, one a far? mer, another a merchant, and so on, and here, Tom, you must open a saloon so that we may prosper. Would we do that? Would we open Up a saloon to deetroy all the others ? Must we debauch a large number of our brethren in order that one or two may prosper ? No; 'God forbid! We might as well say that we would establish brothels and gambling houses for the prosperity and happiness of our brothers and sisters 1 You are building Chattanooga up. Does liquor enter into any of the build? ing material ? What part of the house is built out of whisky? Is there any machinery made out of svhiaky or what part does whisky play in running your machinery? Ah, but they say whisky makes your property grow in value. Suppose 1 put a saloon next to your cor? ner over there on the hill. You will say I'd rather than $500 you'd take it fi' ??her away. If the distance it is from your property has anything to do with its val? ue, let's put them all in the middle of the Atlantic. Ah, my friends you folks are going to have a fight here in Tennessee, The brewers of Baltimore and elsewhere are voting money to defeat you in the fight. Now you who want to see the country saved, who want to see your country prosper, put your shoulders to the wheel and beat the great evil. I'll tell you Floyd county Georgia is going to vote whisky out of Borne. Them fellows down in Borne have been emptying their whisky down on us in Cartersville, and you fellows in Chat? tanooga are doing the same thing, and I want to knit legs on your demijons and walk then out of Tennessee. I've a per? sonal motive in this, thing. I want you to quit pouring your damnable slush down on us. Another person says prohibition don't prohibit. Let's see. Now, there's many a fellow in Chattanooga who's hard op; now if there's a man in this audience who believes this way, I'll givp you $50 a drink for every drink you boy in Car tersville if you'll swear you bought it there and who you bought it from. Car ? tersville kept it out by putting men in the chain-gang, etc., every time they sold a drink of whisky. All you've got to do is to put them through and land them in the penitentiary; they will get mighty tired and stop it. . IN ATLANTA. But they say it don't prohibit in At? lanta. You are not going.to make the mistake Atlanta did; you are not going to have any wine room clause, and I tell you the Georgia legislature is going to fix that wine room business, and I'll ven? ture the assertion that there will never be another contest in Atlanta. I think tho whisky men are "tired" in that city. Out of 187 counties in Georgia 124 are AJtDEHSONJSkC., 1 prohibition, and Georgia is one of the happiest States in the South to-day. If Tennessee will only prohibit for twenty four months, never will whisky be sold in her border again. One barkeeper in Borne stood on the street and said: "Taint prohibition, its confiscation." . Ten years ago he came to Borne not worth $250, and now after sell? ing his infamous drags there for ten yeats he is worth $80,000, and noff he talks about confiscation after robbing the people of Borne out of $80,000. I say that whisky; has had sway in Tennessee long enough ? let us try it awhile and if we don't have a little gov? ernment and run things better then I will give it up and let the whisky men have it forever after. "puppies" on the fence. My friends, it is every man's duty to take sides in this fight. I have more re? gard for a man who is square out for wkisky than for one of those little pup? pies wbo sets on the fence and don't know where he is going to fall, or if he knows when he ought to go, is afraid. I would call such a man a dog, but he's too small. as to newspapers. It is the duty of every minister of the gospel to take sides on this question ; it it the duty of the religious papers to take sides j it iB the duty of the ?? I like to said the secular papers, but I'll have to take it back, I guess. Those secular papers are like the fellow on the fence. They are in the lane between two grassy plots, prohibition on one side and whisky on the other, and all tbey get is the pick? ings thrown to tbem from both sides, and that's what they live on. It's grass, my friends, grass, grass for the editorial ox. I believe that it is' the duty of every newspaper to take a stand one way or the other. God Almighty give us men in the editorial chair wbo have honest con? victions on this subject and who are not afraid to express tbem! But they are all afraid that tbey won't get any more of the grass. I say to you, prohibitionists, stand by the paper that stands by you. The newspapers of this town have said a heap of things about me, good, bad and indifferent. They have told the truth as well as lies on mo, and I tbank them for both. I make no- war on newspapers and don't care whether they make war on me or not. A little weazen editor up here in Vir? ginia got onto me, but what I thought about him was that when a little feller gets a handful of type, a bottle of ink and a jug of whisky and jumps on me, it don't amount to much. I've been swal? lowed at by whales, nibbled at by min? nows, but God deliver me from ants. Give us men of convictions who will take a bold stand against this dam? nable evilgive us men for or against. Some of our preachers say, "I'm afraid to talk prohibition for fear it will offend some of my congregation." I despise one of these lean, finely dressed preach? ers who perfume themselves witb laven? der and who are too pious to take a stand for the right. There are some I preachers wbo talk for liquor and if there is a man who comes to hell that the devil will bridle and uaddle and gal? lop all over perdition it will be one of these beer drinking, whisky selling preachers. take your choice. Oh, my brethren, take the right side in this fight. Wbo are on the side of the saloons? There are a few clever men, but they are in wretched company. On the side of prohibition are our wive3, our sisters, all that is good and pure, and the preservation of society. I don't like the crowd on the other side. You will find as supporters of the barrooms, wife beaters, murderers, thieves, thugs, gamblers, all the vice and crime in the calendar. I can't go with that crowd ; I know, too, when I look at the two sides that I am on God'a side. The Art of War. The command of a large army tasks the resources of the greatest mind. It is one of the highest of human achiev ments, and by common consent the first rank of fame is accorded to the great gen? erals. To move an army and to feed on the march requires a higher order of generalship than to fight it. Thirty hours without supplies would reduce the best army to a helpless mass of disorgan? ized humanity. Food for the men and for? age for the animals must not only be provided, but jtfM|he at the precise spot when wiy^dM Jpeon, the great?raas ter 2 war, bad a scorjjgf mar? Bf whom coul?* fighoL greatb^l V&P of wbom could leadV army on the much as an enormous ss^ent, ~st" out mile after mile, and moving, alert and watchful, with steady and irresisti? ble force. Le^danger threaten "and it hastily coils itself together and prepares to avert orjJfigtt^gme the^danger. Shrunk to afll dimen? sions, it shojH Jfcjy for attack or deffl SK^rKgwBPrpast, the great maas unfolds its coils again and stretches out its huge proportions in pro? gressive movement. The brain of this mighty animal, thes^MMoe mind that controls its ever^l general in chief. al, thes^Mwne mind t rerwjUHH^L gem nate of hlsMornlM^Wc A Boy's Estimate of his BiWWr'Srnork. "My mother gets me up, builds the fire, gets my breakfast and sendB me off," said a bright youth. .^ "What then," said the reporter. "Then she gets my fatberllp, and gets bis breakfast and sends him off, then gets the other children their breakfast and sends them to school; and then she and the baby have their breakfast." "How old is the baby ?" "Oh, she is 'most two, but she can walk and talk as well as any of us." "Are you well paid ?" "I get two dollars a week, father gets two dollars a d0Q0$ "How much does your mother get?" With a bewildered look the boy said: "Mother! Why, she don't work for any? body." "I thought you said she worked for all of you." "O, yes, for nil of us she does; but there aint no mouoy la it."?American Farmer. :huksdat moknii ABOUT DIET B?AflS. The Evil and Remedy?The Economy of Having Good Boads. From the Nation. About this time of year Americans begin to give an amount of attention to roads and road-making which is sadly wanting during the rest of It. There is probably no people in the world which has made such progress in the arts of civilized life generally that seems to care so little for what a good many social philosophers put among the very fore? most of them, the art of road-making. In fact, some philosophers have pro? nounced the history of roads the history of civilization. Nothing distinguishes a civilized country from a barbarous one so markedly as the- difference between the means of communication between one locality and another. As a general rule, oue'knows that a people is rising in the social scale by seeing its roads improve ; one knows that it is declining by seeing its roads go out of repair. Nothing marked so vividly the great plunge into barbarism which Europe took after the fall of the Boman empire as the disap? pearance of the superb lines of commu? nication which led from the forum straight as an afrotf to every corner of the Boman world. Nothing too, tells the tale of Chinese decadence so distinctly as the ruin which has overtaken the great roads and canals which at ah earlier period connected the Capital with the provinces. When an American gees to Europe for the first time, nothing seems I odder than the superiority of the Europe j an roads in countries which can make no pretence of equaling the United States in othei marks of material pro? gress. We are not a declining people ; I on the contrary we are the most growing people in the world. We are not' among -the poor nations of the globe; on the contrary we are probably the very richest. We are not indifferent to material im? provement ; on the contrary the most fre? quent charge made against us is that we give too much attention to it, and yet we are worse off by far, in the matter of roads than any other highly civilized community. The original reason of the American indifference about roads was probably the rapidity with which the early settlers scattered themselves in small communi? ties over wide areas. The fewer people there are to the square mile of inhabited territory, of course the costlier roads become,* and when population is very much dispersed, as in frontier settlements, people cease to thiokof good roads as a luxury within their reach, and devote themselves simply to the task of keeping them passable. This tendency to neglect the art of road-making would probably have disappeared early in this century if j the railroads had not come in as the great lines of communication, thrown the post roads and military roads out of use, and relegated all roads but railroads to the condition of cross roads or byways. The railroads not only did this, but they dispersed the settlers over still wider areas than ever, and thus made the pros? pect of running a good highway past every man's door seem hopeless. The consequence has been that the early colonial or frontier state of mind?in which a road was considered good enough if it was simply practicable to wheeled vehicles (that is, if there were no holes or rocks in it sufficiently formidable to upset a carriage), and anything better than this an unattainable luxury?has almost settled into a national tradition. One has only to go a few miles out of any of our large cities to find the roads in every direction being repaired in the exact manner in which they were re? paired by the struggling colonists between 1680 and 1700?that is, nothing is at? tempted beyond filling up the holes with any material that is at hand, and afford? ing facilities for the water to run off. The material that is at band is, of course, the mud or compost out of the adjacent ditch. This is shovelled up with the utmost gravity and deposited all along the center, filling up the cavities and hiding from view the projecting rocks. Io districts in which gravel or strong clay is obtained in this way, the result is often satisfactory enough. But as a general rule the contents of the ditch are simply mud or decayed vegetable matter, fit only for manure. Spread over the road as a plaster, it rapidly becomes dust and is swept away by the wind, or else be? comes mud and is washed back again into the ditch, or down into the hollows, in which in wet weather it forms a kind of quagmire, through which horses toil wearily. The one advance we have made in this curious process over the early fcgptonists is the invention of the large Firon scoop or shovel, worked by oxen or horses, au a substitute for the manual labor of ..ie olden days. A foreigner, seeing it at work for the first lime, is always disposed to believe that the road is being prepared for a crop of some kind, and as a matter of fact we have ourselves seen many a mile of country road in' which after the spring repairs, potatoes or corn would have grown very luxuriantly. Of course there are signs of progress out of this primitive condition in the more densely settled districts on the eastern coast and in the neighborhood of the large cities. The Park roads, with which people have been made familiar during the past thirty years, have shown those who have never been abroad what a good road is, and have thus raised the standard of road-making as the Vienna bakery raised the standard of bread making all over the country after the Philadelphia exposition in 1877. But most rural districts suffer greatly from not having a standard at all. Some of those who tax themselves most freely suffer most, because the plentiful supply of money not only does not improve the roads, but breeds a political ring, who treat it as "boodle." The reason they Buffer is that, as they have no standard of goodnesB in roads, and do not make specific requirements as to what shall be done to keep the roads in order, it is never possible to bring trustees, or select men, or roadmasters to a proper account. They always escape if they can show they have put on the annual spring plaster; and when it is washed away, as it is sure to be a little later, they throw the blame on the freshets; and the W, JUNE 23,1887 simple dtixen, not knowing what to say ' in answef to them, says nothing. We have seen the pfastcf &pp\kA Id project? ing rocks in a steep declivity iff the middle of a great highway within twenty miles of New York, year after year, without a word of remonstrance from anybody, and without any demand for the use of the sledge hammer for the safety of horses and carriages. The waste of all this, through the wear and tear of animals', vehicles and harness, is ' of course immense. As it is dot * easy to j calculate it, it makes but little impres : sion on the popular mind, but it probably j far surpasses the cost of thorough repair j or macadamization. Until a standard has been set up, increased votes of money for road making will in populous dis? tricts simply result in the multiplication of the people who live by "politics," There is little doubt, too, that not only was the light wagon, for which America is now famous, produced by the badness of our roads, but it now helps to keep the roads bad by diminishing, in the public eye, the inconvenience of them, j The wagon in which Americans delight, j and which no other nation has yet been able to imitate, really gets over bad roads I almost as easily as a saddle or pack I horse. We have seen it jump a fence behind a runaway with a Certain grace and dexterity. But bad roads tell on it rapidly also though not perhaps as rapid* ly as on heavier vehicles. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that a light wagon would last one-third longer on an Eng? lish or Swiss road than on Ohrs, and would be a far greater luxury. Nobody shows more appreciation of the smooth, hard park roads than the trotting men, although they prefer the dirt road to "speed" on; and they may be said to be the only class of the community to whose needs or wishes attention in the matter of road making has been paid. The owners of heavy vehicles have been left to get along as best they can, al? though they use roads for business and not pleasure. In no department of our material progress., in fact, is there so much need of reform aa in onr road making, and above all in our road re? pairing, whether we look at the matter from the health or the pleasure point of view. The Danger of Drinking Water. By one of those singular coincidences which befall ever and anon for the edifi? cation of humanity, Mr. Waterloo, Mr. Lederer, and Colonel Sullivan were as? signed to the same room at the Mammoth Cave hotel last week. The fact that three newspaper men were put into one room was not particularly surprising, but it did seem remarkable that the hotel clerk should pick out as chums the very three members of the excursion party who were afflicted with ocnlar disturb? ances. Colonel Sullivan has an impaired vision, and Mr. Waterloo and Mr. Lede? rer happen to possess but two eyes be? tween them. About nine o'clock last Saturday night Colonel Sullivan began to yawn and to feel uncommon sleepy. It was bis hour of retiring; all well regulated evening newspaper men go to bed at nine o'clock or thereabout. So Colonel Sullivan poked off up stairs, robed himself in his elegantly frilled night shirt, said his prayers and tumbled into his cot. In less than ten minutes a regular succession of stentorian harmonies in B flat and two four times bespoke the profundity of the Colonel's slumbers. Mr. Waterloo and Mr. Lederer did not put in an appearance until a much later hour?we will not specify the hour, for far be it from us to bear witness against fellow journalists whom we esteem and admire. Suffice it to say that when they did seek their beds they were sore and weary; they needed repose and needed it badly. And when Morpheus once brooded over that chamber yon might have thought that a steam calliope bad been set a going therein. About 3 o'clock in the morning, how? ever, Messrs. Waterloo and Lederer were aroused from deep Blumbers by a dolo rioua howling and by the staccato patter of bare feet upon the chamber floor. They sat up in their beds and glared wildlike about them. Colonel Sullivan was prancing up and down the floor, and he was wailing like a bereaved woman. "I've Bwallowed two cockroaches," | cried Colonel Sullivan. "I felt them go down my throat 1 Oh, oh, oh 1" "Come, now," said Mr. Lederer, sooth? ingly, "you must be mistaken, old fel? low ; you've been dreaming." "No, I haven't been dreaming," insist? ed Colonel Sullivan. "I woke up and drank that glass of water on the table, and I felt the two cockroaches go down my throat?I oan feel 'em now. Oh 1" Mr. Lederer comprehended the situa? tion in a moment. Mr. Lederer is too soft-hearted a man to keep a friend in suspense. "Those weren't cockroaches," said Mr. Lederer; "those weni glass eyes?Water? loo's and mine. We put 'em in that glass of water before we went to bed." And then, in an outburst of magnanimi? ty, inspired by Colonel Sullivan's inten? sified groaning, Mr. Lederer added: "You needn't mind it, old boy, for we've got duplicates in our valises." This happened a week ago, and ever Bince then a clinking sound (as of two glass bodies coming together) has accom? panied Colonel Sullivan wherever be ' went. Dr. Kiernan says that glass eyes ' are not digestible. The inference is that these bogus orbs will remain in Colonel Sullivan's system through all futurity.? Chicago Journal. Just a Wheat Patch. Friday and Saturday Hon. James M. Smith harvested one of his wheat "patch? es." It contained only 500 acres, and from it he expects to thrash 6,000 bushels of grain, or an average of twelve bushels per acre. Up to the time he began to harvest, the field had cost Mr. Smith $2,700 to plant and cultivate it, and he estimates that by the time he has bar vested, threshed and housed the grain it will have cost him about $8,500. At one dollar a bushel his profits on this patch will be a snug sum itself.?Ogleihorpe, Qa., Echo. ? When a man lies the devil l&ughp. THE GREAT KENTUCKY tiS??; An Outlaw who wax Mado a Judge?Latest Acts In the Tragedy. . Mm ltork World. LEXiKuf?iij ?Hr., Juue 10.?Oralg Tolliver, Rowan county, J^y.y haa been a hunted desperado and murderer /of years and years. Warrants have been served against him, indictments found against him. Posses have searched for him, and a whole company of soldiers went after him and proclaimed martial law in all of Rowan county. But they did not get their rttar). Cou fii ngy reckless, dare devil, he fought them from flmbnsb, hid away in the mountain fastnesses when the country grew too hoi for him, and when matters quieted down again be came forth cool and unharmed and went at his old trict-a. Of course a feud was at the bottom of it. John Martin' silled Bill Tolliver, Craig's bfdther, ?u6f so, of course, the natural result was that the Tolliver family aud their friends set out to kill the surviving members of the Martin family and their friends. Craig shot a few men, and the whole county took sides, Troops were ordered to Morehead, the county seat of Rowan county, to quell the disturbances that had been caused there by two factions?one under the leadership of Craig Tolliver, and the other marshall? ed by Cook Humphries, who was looked upon as being every bit as dangerous as Toliver, and possessing even more cour? age. After a long tfip in the mountains by the State Guard, peace was finally restored by an armistice on the part of the Commonwealth - whose attorney agreed! to withdraw prosecution on condi? tion that the two leaders should leave the State. The principals readily agreed to this, and it was thought that the disorders which bad brought the State into such bad repute bad come to an end and the troops were ordered withdrawn. Scarce? ly had peace been restored when infor? mation was received that Tolliver was back at his old bddnfS. But be came back in a new character. Tired of being hunted like a dog, he con ceived the brilliant idea of hunting instead of being hunted. He thought the matter over in his own rude way and figured things out about like this: The only thing he had ever been forced to fear was that intangible something men called the law. What waa the law ? he asked. The judge on the bench was the only personal exponent of it that he knew. So his mind was made up. He would become the law. He would make him? self judge. His friends would vote for him. Where was the man brave enough to ride up to the polls and deposit a bal? lot against him 7 And so Craig Tolliver, murderer and desperado, a criminal hiding from justice was selected a judge of Bowan county. No further need bad he to fiee from justice. He was justice himself now. The man whose outbreaks had brought shame and disgrace to the fair soil of that section had turned the tables, and with a high band prepared to turn^ prosecutor instead of being prosecuted. It was a dazzling stroke of genius. The great opportunity of his life was right at hand, and be prepared to pay off old scores, and pay them off in the name of the law. There are many indictments against Tolliver for serious crimes; yet so terrified are the people that tbey allow a criminal to hold office and exercise the rights of that office. Since the election of Tolliver to the office of police judge three good citizens have been compelled to flee from Morehead. Their lives, their fortunes, their homes, sons, daughters and wives were in danger. In the reports of the elections Tolliver received 20 votes, thereby electing him. People who were against him were afraid to go to the polls, and a man who can not sign bis name legibly is elected to an office which re? quires knowledge of the law, equity of judgment and justice in all things. Immediately after taking possession of his office be began the persecution of bis enemies. Yesterday afternoon be issued warrants for the arrest of William Logan, twenty four years old, and his brother John, eighteen, charged with kuklux plans. Warrants were placed in the hands of Marshal Mannin to serve. About 3 o'clock Mannin, Tolliver and a posse went to the Logan house. On arrival at the Logan homestead Marshal Mannin asked if the boys were at home. The housekeeper answered no, but Man? nin, knowing to the contrary, forced his way into the house and upstairs. Immediately the Logan boys, who were secreted upstairs, opened fire upon Mannin, riddling him with slugs from shot guns and killing him instantly. The two boys then attempted to make their escape by getting out by the back way of the house, but the two men who accompanied Mannin were stationed in the rear, and as soon as the two boys made their appearance the posse opened fire upon them. When the smoke clear? ed away it was seen that the Logan boys lay dead?killed at the first shot. The two men who formed the posse returned to Morehead, gave themselves up and gave the facts as stated. The Logan boys were buried this afternoon at the old burying grounds about five miles north of the town of Morehead. Dr. H. S. Logan, the father of the two dead boys, is confined in the Lexington jail for safe keeping on a charge of con? spiring to kill Taylor Young and Judge A. C. Cole, of the circuit court of Bowan county. Dr. Logan, when seen, said that the object was to arrest the boys so that they could be placed in tbe bands of Craig Tolliver, who is police judge, so that Tolliver could wreak bis revenge on them. Howard Logan, an uncle of these boys, was one of the parties who was forced to flee from Morehead a few days ago and seek a place of safety. That whole section of tbe State is wild over the affair, and the end is not yet. Craig Tolliver is about fifty-five years old, and has been a desperate character for thirty years. He revels in bloodshed. In 1884, at tbe August election, the Martin-Tolliver feud was started, and since that time more than a dozen men have been killed in encounters between these factions. At tbe first breaking out of the feud John Martin killed Bill Tol? liver, a brother of Craig, in a fight. Martin was placed in the Flemrogaburg volxjm: jail, from which he waa taken by. Bill I Bowling and otti era on a forged writ of habeas forpu?/ and sliot dead while on the cars en rotfts to Morehead. The warfare haB been carried4 oil Openly or in ambush ever since that time. "Wet and Dry" in Baleigh. [? ?AiiiGit, June 14.?Last June Ral? eigh tofee? for the first time on the question of prohibition, and declared in its favor by 58 majority. Last week another election on the sarne question was held, and the Prohibitionists were again victorious by 31 majority. The law under which the election was held provided against the sale of spirituous liquors, but did not include beer or wine. The Legislature, at its last session, passed an Act making it unlawful to sell spirituous, vinous or malt liquors; but this Act does not go into effect until July I 1 next, so that the late election was held under the old law. Application Was made last week to the county commissioners by a man in this city for a license to sell beer and wine in Baleigh. After a long discussion this was granted, although the city ordinance forbids the issue of a license until the board of aldermen has permitted its issue. As soon as the license was obtained the sa'e of beer began and there was a great sensation, which instantly divided the people into wet and dry fac? tions, and set them bitterly against each other. The beer seller was arrested and taken before the mayor. He was held to appear at the Superior Court. He tried to take revenge on the Prohibitionists by bringing suit against a prominent mem* ber of that party for $10,000 damages for malicious prosecution. This only in? creased the anger of the Prohibitionists and on Saturday the beer seller was again arrested on the same charge. He refused to give bail and the mayor sent him to the guardhouse. He applied for habeas corpus and the writ was issued and made returnable before the Supreme Court yesterday afternoon, and it was then argued at great length. It was hoped that the Court would decide one way or another as to whether beer and wine were or were not spiritu? ous liquors, but tbo Court did not do so. This morning the Court, through Chief Justice Smith, rendered a decision that the case must go to the Superior Court and come up regularly. The question cannot be settled before next autumn, It is a matter which con? cerns over twenty cities and towns in this State, and which attracts more atten? tion than anything in many months. The beer seller was ordered, to suspend business until the case is settled. Farmer Gillette's Hobby. MlDDLETOWN, N. Y., June 13.?Har? ris Gillette, a well to do old farmer of Sidney, haa the hobby of strictly govern? ing all his doings by the phases of the moon. Interviewed on the subject, be unfolded his creed as follows: 'T always go by the moon's changes, because then I know I'm right. I see a great deal in the papers about how to choose a cow, but I can tell you a rule worth all the rest. If a cow Is born when the horns of the moon point down, then she will be a good milker, but if born when the horns point op, then she will run to nothing but skin and bone. I always butcher cattle and bogs in the new of the moon, and then I have a quar? ter more meat. I always sow and plant in the new of the moon and have better crops than my neighbors. I always build fences when the horns of the moon point up, and put on the stakes and rides when the horns point down, then the two pull together and my fences never fall down. Our school house, contrary to my advice, was roofed in the full of the moon, and it leaks badly, and last winter all the children bad the measles. I once attend? ed camp meeting and got converted in the dark of the moon, but I soon back elided wonderfully. Since then I got converted in the light of the moon, and my religion has stuck to me ever since." Millions in Danger. Washington, June 14. ?The count of cash in the United States treasury, which is now in progress, has developed the fact that the vault capacity is entirely inade? quate for the safe handling of silver. The silver vault was filled to its utmost capacity some time ago, and their still remained about 8,000,000 standard dollars which, for want of a better place, were piled in bags in the passageway leading to the vault. In making the count these bags had to be removed to an outside hall, where they now remain, protected from outside interference by nothing but a pine board partition. It has to be guarded at all times by watchmen employed in the building, who are armed with revolvers during the day and repeat? ing rifles during the night. Every pre? caution has been taken to prevent ite being tampered with while in its exposed condition. The count will last five weeks more and the silver cannot be returned to tbe vault room until that is concluded, In the meantime work is being pushed on the new silver vault authorized by the last Congress. It will have storage capacity for 100,000,000 standard dol? lars, and will probably be ready for use in September. ? Judge Lyon and the Hon. J. E Bradley were among the excursionists tc Washington. While on the trip thej visited the battleground of Manassas, They took the Baltimore and Ohio Bail road from Washington to Vienna, and surveyed the camping ground at thai point. Thence they went by Flint Hill to Fairfax Court House, and then by waj of Centerville to Manassas Junction. AI Mitchell's Ford they stood upon the identical spot where they received tbeii "baptism of fire." The old breastwork* are almost intact. Every position conic easily be identified.?Abbeville Medium ? A number of North Carolina towni voted on the question of prohibition last Monday. Baleigh, Cameron and Dnr ham went "dry," whilst Charlotte Oxford, Washington, Winston, Golds boro, Louisburg and- Henderson wem "wet." At Charlotte, prohibition wai defeated by 40 majority. Raleigh wenl "dry" by a majority of 31? E XXII.- -NO. 50 THE WOffDEBF?L CAYE Which Famished Nitre for Confederate I Gunpowder* Atlanta Constitution. Rome; Ga., June 14.-Mr. W. G. I Cooper furnishes to the Detroit Free Press I an interesting article on a cave in Bar tow County, in which he says : "Within a mile or two of Sherman's route to Atlanta, there is in Bartow County; Ga., a cavern of considerable historic interest. We first hear of it in 11835, when a handful of Cherokee In r dians, who bad incurred the displeasure I of a band of highwaymen known as 'The I Pony Club,' found refuge in the cave I until I hey were rescued by some regula? tors. In those days the walls and roofs of the passages were white, and their., stalactites rivaled in beauty the icicles which formed about the mountain cas I cades; but since the workmen, in getting out saltpeter for the gunpowder of the' Confederate army, built great fires of pitch pine, and filled the cave with I smoke, those dark passages and gloomy. I chambers, with their sooty walls, give I one the impression that he is approach? ing Vulcan's forge, and the black stalact I ites in all their fantastic shapes seems to I be the handiwork of that grim artisan. Though. these objects do not resemble j thunderbolts, some of them have been knocked off and made into bolts no less destructive. Of late Vulcan seems, to have abandoned the place to Pluto, who' made his presence known last year by I tearing up the door and breaking a pillar. I in the lowest chamber. There was no other creature in the cave but a winged I beast which loved darkness rather than' I light, and must have been one of Pluto's little angels. I "The approach to the entrance is by a j lonely road between wild hills, whose'. I aspect is so cheerless, and the sighing of I-the wind in their thickets so mournful, j that a man almost believes he is going to I an awful doom. After going dp the hill I for a hundred yards, one is suddenly con I fronted by an opening ten feet square, I and bad a skull and cross-tones been I placed above it, he could not look/into that dark and broadening j.byss with darker and more infernal passages, with? out feeling a cold horror at the thought of exploring Hades. j "With a good refecting lamp we de \ scended a rough incline at an angle of I forty-five degrees, until we were seventy I five feet below the opening. The rcof j was not so much inclined, and the mouth I widened to sixty feet at the bottom, so as to form a large chamber. Beyond this I the floor was smooth and the roof only twelve feet high. At this place the pic I nicers have often danced, and it is known as the 'ball room.' From there we pass I ed through several large rooms, one of which was nearly 100 feet wide, with a I roof fifty feet high in one place. The \ I floor was strewn with rock fragments, and I in passing out we bad to climb, round rough bowlders. After ascending a steep, I slippery place for about fifteen feet, we I were confronted by an immense stalag I mite in the shape of a cone, eight feet in I diameter at the base and twelve feet high. ; I Above it a cluster of stalactites resembled j a chandelier. On the right and left were I openings into a small chamber, behind I the cone. Returning thence we went up I the main passage at an angle of forty five degrees and came to a circular group y of stone icicles six to eight feet long. . They reminded me of the' illustration- of the 'Saracen's tent' of Luray cave, and__ one of them by itself formed a horse's leg with knee and thigh almost perfect. Passing several pillars and a smaller cone we descended by steps cut in the rock to a chamber with vaulted roof and level floor. Directly over the entrance was a hole twenty inches in diameter and about I six feet deep. From this place a very - low arch twenty feet wide let us into a j passage connecting with the main en? trance. Beturning to the big cone we passed through a large room full of rock I fragments into a chamber, from which we ascended by a fifteen-foot ladder to a small hole large enough to crawl through/ From it we emerged into a Ion# passage at the end of which daylight appeared. Fifty yards farther in that direction Was " the 'Jug,' formed by a stalagmite three . feet thick and six feet high, with a neck formed by a pendant from the roof. The handle had been formed in the same way and was afterwards broken off by some explorer. At the foot of the jug was a small spring of clear, cool water, which was very refreshing after two hours of hard climbing. A few yards further we ascended sixty feet by an incline and came out of the small entrance. The air above ground seemed very oppressive, and we were glad to sit down and eat our lunch. Afterwards another hour was spent in exploring a passage on the right of the main entrance. After following it for fifty yards we came to a deep pit with a passage around one side and a shelving ledge on the left. By climbing, cautiously around on the ledge we got. into a chamber walled. in by masses of stalactites, and overhead a chandelier was formed by a cluster of those wonder? ful stone icicles. Tbe two entrances were separated by a huge pillar ten feet thick, evidently formed by drippings. Afterwards we descended on tbe right of tbe pit into the 'earthquake room,' where there were unmistakable signs of a slip. On the right the inclined roof had de? scended and forced some of its stalactites into the floor, breaking and pushing up the clay for several yards. About a rod from this there was, firmly attached to the floor and the roof, a pillar seven feet high and twelve inches thick. It was certainly formed by dripping, as the union of the portions which grew from above and below was distinct. It had been forced at least fifteen degrees out of its original perpendicular position, and there was a fracture near the roof. The top of the pillar was moved twelve inches, though still attached to the rock at the. original place. From this it was evident that the relative position of the roof and the floor had been changed ten or twelve inches. This cave was visited last year by a party from the Smithsonian Insti? tute, but as they remained only a short time it is probable that some of the most interesting features escaped their obser? vation. There were other passages which the earthquake seemed to have dosed." ' J