Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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? ? * ? '* FRANK ?? BEARD, Publisher, ? '..r !? -. ^ I ______ . a>\* v* V^ - :? * 1 .T1-" "T- ? ? -zr^: TWO DOLLARS A YEAR. CAMDEN, KERSHAW COUNTY, S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 1883. NO. 30. TIIK PEOPLED PAPER. Fl'HLINlUiD AT CAMOIR, M. C. FRANK P. BEARD. . Publisher. To Correspondents. AH cuininuiilcattoiit for tbls paper sboaM beae eonipoiilod by tho name of tho Author, not nsces wily for publics', ion, but at au evidence of good failhon the part t'f tho writer. Wrlteoaly ?*et?e W4i of the paper. R? particularly careful lugtrtag name* and dates to luw the ietSsn ftota iai gkfr ttact. The Gazette \ Job Printing Office I i urrreit prepared than Jtiy other vOn la town, ttftiiKUtc tn Uw ui?M ?ltrv?lh? si) M ??tO ?U>?cr1j? U >u of Job PrlutltiK, such ti lllll lUwls L**U?r anil NoVj lfcauU. Uilefa, Pwrton. IVxlnvr*. Hmihri, Hand HUla* Wt. acting. Vbt'.lT)i( J AUUjvuCvU*, Pukluoa* Curtis, L?' ?U 4.. Work ioue In Brvnae, tteil, Ulu? ana black. The public must rotuombcr that tho boat U alwaj* Ibe choapeet. We do work at '"Uarleaton Price*, and guarantor Iautlru ?atUf*ctlou to oar patrvu*. We k?ep ootntantly cii hand the lurreet itock 01 Pmvtrs aud Oard* In town . SOLITUDE ? Laugh, and tho world laughs with joa ; Wwp, and yoo weep alone. Tor tho sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has troublo enough of its own* Sing, and tho hills will answer ; Sigh, it ia lost on tho air. Tho eohoe<s bound t o a joyful sound, Bat shrink from voicing care. Bejoice, and men will soolc you ; Grievo, and they turn and go. T1 ey wnnt full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woo. Bo gtad, and your frk ir.ls aroynany ; Bo sad, and you lose thorn all. There are none to dcoline your nootarod wine, But alone you must drink lifo'a gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded , Fast, and the world gooi by. Bucoeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man oan help you dio. There is room in the halla of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one wo must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain. ? Ella Wheeler. THE OLD COBBLER. I roinember my surprise when the quaint little sign first attracted my at tention. I stopped to look at it more attentively: " I'll mnko your bIioo As good on Now <fe bettor to J. Rogera, Cobbler." I read it onco, twice, three tinios, till it began to cluiso itself around in my head, like i\ eat after her own tall. I M'as fascinated l>y its faultless rhyme, by the lawless abandon of its capitals. 1 think it soon would have set itself into music in my whirling little brain, if a voice had not cried out: " W(\l, little girl, how do you like my new sign? Don't you call that first class poetrv ?" "Yes, its very nice poetry," I an-' swered. And then I went on boldly: "But I see a word In it that isn't spelled right." " Not spelled right? How's that? I shall have to hobble out and take a look at it. You're a pretty noticin' little critter. Ain't yer?" I hintod that this sort of vtco" .was Usually spelled with two o>; but Mr. Rogers lookel hard at the word over his spectacles, and did not seem to think favorably of the cha -go. ? I'll tell ye what," said i,e, Anally. "I've got a way, and no spiilln' about it, What's spellin' as l.mg as folks catoh yor idee? The idee is what yer can't git along without." Baying which, Mr. Rogers took his fist to tho objeetionablo " to" and wrote triumphantly in its placo a huge fig ure 2. I folt baffled and helpless, and went home with a vague sense that I had loft Mr. Rogers' sign much worse than I had found it. It still pursued me, howev.T, and at dinner 1 snid sud denly: " Mamma, don't you want my shoe a? f,o>d as now, and brtttr too;" " Bless me 1" said my grand mother, " what ails tho child ? yi:o isn't be ginning so early to be a poet, is sho?'* "Oh, no," cried my father. "I S;uess Bho's been reading old John toger.s' sign. Wife, it is a curiosity. You must goby there. We mustsond him down some old shoes. You know he broke his leg Inst winter and lie's trying to work again. Wo must give him a lift." K So it was that next morning I found myself again boforo the distracting sign, this time with a hug.) bundle of old shoes in my arms. 1 lifted the Intch and stepped into tho little shop. " I declare for't, if hero ain't a rush of business," said Mr. Roger?, as he opened my bundle. "One pair of coi? per-toes. Them your littlo brother's? Congress, with the 'larstic givo out. Guess that's yer grandmother's. And here's some o' yor pa's boots, with a ftice, harnsome holo in it." 41 And I'd like to buy some shoe strings, too," I put in, feeling myself a patron of considerable importance. 0 Now, them coppor-toss wouldn't takemore'n half an hour, Oan'tyou sit down and wait? I ain't such a great talker, but I like somebody to speak once in a while. There's the oat. I talk to her. She will look very knowing; but the minute my back's turned she's fast aaeep. That ain't flatterin', yer see, and I stop." 1 sat down, and while I listened used my eyes as well. The sunlight fought its way through the dusty window-frames, and diftu ol itself impartially over the floor, with its wide, dlrt-fllled cracks. The decora tion of these walls was of a humble order, although by no means uninter esting. In the first place, there were huge auction-bills, in every stage of yellowness and dirt. My grandmother kept an obituary ncrnpbook ; but, as I afterward found out, it was Mr. Rogers' practice to cherish the auction* bills of his departed friends. Amos Belden had peacefully slept with his fathers for thirteen years or more, but In 3. Rogers' shop it was still pro claimed, in giant type, that ho wisned to sell "ten mlleh cows and Fix healthy yearlings." Not was this all. Ten years beforo a misguide! showman had come to our little town, and had solemnly re troated tho next day, with more ex perience than profits ; but his advent still lived in tho handbills on Mr. Rogers' walls. Behind the old man, as ne patiently bent over his work, an Interesting family of Hons were sport ing j While on the door were set forth, In vivid plotu res, tho accomplishments of "The Fairy of tho Ring," a young woman in very scanty petticoats. The celling, too, had its share of decora tion. From It hung, among festoons of cobwebs, a broken blrd-cago ; a bat tered Ohlnese lantern, whose light had long since gono out ; odd lvoot*. which had parted with their mates; baskets .with no bottoms, und numberless stamps, chains and bits of iope that had Itmg ago outlived their usefulness. But mWv Rogers' work-bench baf fles all enumfetaUon. It was oovored with a deposit M- tropa six to ten Inches in depth, front whose IOwor stratum Mr. Rogrn-s would, from t|mo, bring up an awl or a bit of wax. It was the old cobbler himself on whom my eyss at last rested. In bis moftt upright days he cotild not have toMMW! puwt ImUow ttwpMv had settled heavily upon him, and he had lost several inches of his youthful h.igiit. His faoe was framed with a thin whlto fringe of beard, while chock and chin wrire rough with a granite-colored stubble. There were line, netted wrinkles, but no deep fur rows, in the old man's face, and on each cheok a wlnlry bloom still lin gered* His voice had the roughness of a nutineg-grater, bi:t now and thon glanced off from its usual key and end ed in a sort of chirp. "You never coiuo to seo mo before, did you? 1 am the J> Rogers out there on tho sign. Youvve heard of John Rogers that was burnt at tho Btako? Well, I'm another John Rog ers ? not that one. I warn't never quito so bad off as that. So you liko my shop, eh? I've .got everything handy, yer see. I haven't always been so well off as this," he went on in a tremulous chirp. " When my, wife was alive ? . My wife was a Duo woman, ham^um and pretty high stepping when I married her, but troublebrung her down; slio never took kindly to it. - Her folks called me shiftless. _ I dunno: if shiftless means working hard and getting little 'spose I was. 1 warn't one of tho kind ter worry, and she was. Eight children tnere were, and every one that come she was sorry It come ; and then, when one after another they died, all but one, that was what killed her at last. Thej was my children, too, and ? well, I ? it's given mo something to look forward to, seeing 'em up there, yer see ; but my wife, she wasn't right exactly in her mind, it's my belief, after our troubles come. I dunno's anybody was to blame for 'em. There's more trouble in this worl I than I'm able to account for, I'm freoter admit. My wife, she took to her bed two years before she died ; and then 1 had to learn a new trado or two beiido shoemaking. I was hired pal and most everything olse. I made a pretty I bad moss of it. I don't deny it. 1'oor Jim ? he's our boy ? run off; he couldn't stand it. Sho died after awhile. She was ono of the Budsons. A harnsom set of gals thoy wore. It was a heavy day for me when I burled her in her grave. I've baen alone since, but I've had a great many mercies." " I thought you broke ycur leg last winter, Mr. Rogers;" I said. " So I did, but, on tho whole, I ruthcr enjoyed It. I dunno when I evor lived so high or had so many visits from my friends.0. And so Mr. Rogers talked on, look ing sharply up a* me now and then, as If to assure himself that I wau a bet ter listener than the cat. Two days after Invent for the rest of the shoes, and Mr. Rogors seemed so glad to see me that 1 wits again I flattered into staying. " Come, now, if you'll sot down and stay awhile, I'll tell yer a story. Per haps you'd liko to know "now I come by thoni lions? Wal, I'll toll yer, child, how 'twas." With ft child's groed of stories, I was only too eager to listen. " I told him his show'd find it pretty poor pickin's in this town," said Mr. Rogers, in conclusion. " I'd done its cobbling for twenty years and inoro. But he wasn't for listening to me, and 8oth*y went off, he and his menagerie, all a-growling together." Somehow, it app -ars that after all, Mr. Rogers was the hero of this story; and again it seemed that Mr. Rogers had p'.Uyed a prominent part in the de cUno and fall of Amos Bolden's for tunes; and again that Jonathan Wilder would have done much hotter to listen to Mr. Rogers' advice, and thus have averted ruin and con^quent auction bills. It wiis a very artless egotism not hard to account f or; For years the old man had lived alone, his own chief counselor and friend. I do not won der that he grow a little larger in his own oyes than in other mon's; that his Imagination, having nothing else to do, built up the pa^t till his memory held fiction a? dear as fact. I am qulto ready to forgive him his retrospective castte-building, though 1 happened to be its oredhlous victim. " Then thero wore marvelous tales of Mmy son Jim's" adventures in that far<oft wonderland, " Out West." 1 believe three Bounty letters furnished these romances their foundation of faot; <but 1 asked no quostlons, and bo lieved with as honest a faith in tho ffold-paved streets of San Francisco as n those of tl\e Now Jerusalem. "He was a good boy, Jim was,'' tho old man would say. " I never thought hard of him for goin' off. If he only comes back to bury mo, that's all I ask. He'll be coming back ono of those days, rich and harnsomo, I hain't a doubt. I shouldn't wonder If he'd be looking round for a wife. Let's see ? how old are you? I shouldn't wonder if you was just about right for him by that time. You'd make a putty llttje pair." Though Tlmo had stood as still with Jim as his father scemod to think, the Idea of my marrying him would have lost nono of its uncomfortablo gro tesqueness. "Don't, Mr. Rogers," I said. " Bashful, are you," bo answered, trying to look roguish. " Don't you be for not getting merried, though, like the Miss Bucklands, and the Jowbury girls, and the Bassett girls, and all the rest. Thero's too inauy on 'omj too many on 'om. I used to toll my wife that I was better'n nothln' anyway. It's kind of shabby in tho mon to go off and leave tho women die off here up-country all alone. I ain't afTahl but Jim'll find somebody easy enough." " Oh, yen 1" I said; for I was afraid I had hurt the old man's footings. " I'm sure he must be verv nice." One accomplishment of Mr. Rogers I shall never forget. He not only told me storlea an he worked, but he pro fessed to be able to read them from ?his hands, which he hold before him like the open pages of ? book. "See! Yon can look at 'em," he would say. " Thero's nothing hid In W^iTd' Seating about It. Hard and tough. Don't look much like a book, do they? B??t just hear mo toad to you out of 'em." I Was completely mystified, especial ly when the reader shopped to spell out a word, and when he held his hard hands'up to the light, and com plained* that It was rather line print for suoh old eyes; but Still the story W without * brtrt, wtf, t* sjHte of myself, I was brought to the belief that Mr. Rogers possessed some super natural reading powers, perhaps akin to the mystery of my panning le?on, which told of M sermons in stottes and books iu the Funning brooks.1' Tlit) summer aud fall went by, and the winter came, with frolics with< ut number; but alasl to the poor and old it brought only a chill that c;ept into their bonea and took Up its aloJe th?re. Poor old John Rogers! I lifted lib latch one day but the awl lay idle on tho bettch. It was only the rheu matism that had taken a moan advan tage of the infirm knee; but week ijfler weok ho lay on his bed and tho dust gathered thicker in tho little shop. Tho neighbors were kind; but tho best people find a sameness in the constant repetition of good deeds, and by do? grees it grew plain that tho old man's friends would feel a sonse of relief if ho got well. It was about this time that my gran linother declared with a sigh that sho had great respect for Mr. Rogers. "He's borne up under affliction like a man; but rather shiftless ? rather shiftless. I don't know how to recon cile his virtius with the dirt and dis order lie lives in. I don't wonder his wife took to her b d." " They say she was a perfect shrew," said my mother, placidly threading her needle. " Half crazy? so 1'vo heard. Mr. Apjl 'ton thinks there's no use in Mr. Rogers trying to stay by himself tins winter, lle'd much better go to the poorhouse and be takeft good care of. Mrs. Simons, the woman over his shop, says lu;'s hardly a cent left, and sho can't bo exj OJled to provide for him. I suppose tho thought of it will bo rather hard for him, at first, but ho'll bo much better off. Lucy, dear, won't you band mo my scissors?" I gave my mother hrr scissors, but felt that by tho act I became u con spirator in this ph t for tho linal degradation of my poor old friend. 1 Fat by his bed next day, when who should appear at the door but my father. 1 fe't that tho plot was. thick ening. M Well, how aro you, Mr. Rogers?1 said my father in his hearty voice. " Aro you feeling pretty smart to day ?" u Yes, I'j^fpretty"sIritiTt, thank yc. I hain't got them boots o' yourn quitp ready yet, though. I'll try and ta'co hold of 'em to-morrow. I'm sorry you had tho trouble of coming after 'em for nothing. I can send 'cm by your littlo gal. I dunno's you know what a good little gal alio is to come and see uio." " I like to come," I said. My father seemed in no hurry to go, and said, at length: " Rather lonely hero by yourself, isn't it, Mr. Rogers?" "Well, I dunno's I've got much to complain of. Mrs. Simons, upstairs, looks aft?r things, and I tell her to spend the money in the black teapot. There's other folks worse off." My father looked puzzled. "I declare, Mr. Rogers, you've known what trouble was. liavm't you? See ! How many years was your wife laid up? And you've lost about all your children, and now here you are yourself." " Yes, yos," said the old man. "But thoso ain't the sort of things I try to let my mind dwoll on while I'm aday Ing here. I try to count up my mer cies." My father looked puzzled. " Well, now, Mr. Hogera, I think, nnd my wife thinks that you ought to go somewhere else." "I ain't got nowhere ehe to go, sir. I'm all nlone in the world. It's true, what you say." "But, Mr. Rogers, to bo plain, you know I'm one of tho selectmen, and I'd soe that the town took care of you ? better cure than Mrs. Simons does." "I dunno's I quite catch your mean ing, sir. Does anybody find fault with Mrs. Simons?" '?No, no, I don't mean that. I mean wo think you'd better go down to Mr. Miles' to spend tho winter. He keeps the town farm, you know." "You mean to tho poorhouse, sir? I warn't very brlght.ter soe." The old man turned his faded eyoa Imploringly up to my father's face. " Well, yes, that's what they call it, though I must say I never quite liked the name." Tho old cobbler's face seemed to grow white and aged beforo our very eyes. With the Instinct decently to hide his trouble, he drow up the old bedquilt with n tremulous hand and turned his face to the wall. "I dunno but I've asked too much," he said, in a broken voice. " I've sort o' hung pnto tho idoo that I should die before X oome ter that." "Luey," Bald my father, "didn't I hear somebody in the shop ? Go and Bee." : Two Btrangers had just ontered the door ? a tall young man dressed in a suit of plaid, and accompanied by a pleasant-faced young woman In a white bonnet. " Mr. Rogers is Biok," I said. " He oan't mend Bhodsnow." ** Sick, did you hay ho wai? Whero Is he?" * fte*s in there. 1 don't bollevo he w*nt* anybody to come in." The young man gave me a queer look. " I guess you don't know who I am, 1 guess he'll be willing to sea me." lly this timo he stood in tho door be tween the two rooms. Mr. Rogers' faoe wa<? turned away and my father was looking Intently Into the little back yard. Tho stranger glanced un easily about and sali not a word. I am suro it must have been a relief to him, an well a< to ine, when at last my father turned suddenly round and said: "Why, who's this?" ? 41 It's somebody oome to see Mr. Rogers, '' I answerod, faintly. I " Don't you know mo? Don't yon know mo, father?" the stranger burst out. "It's me. it's Jim come back. And out thero's my wife. Oome home to you." I laugh now to think of the absurd sense of relief this but revelation caused me. ".Timmyl Come homo I" the old man murmured, in a dazed, soared w*y. ?? I ain't out of my head. I'm J wUat jrou'r# going to do with me. You're going to tak? me to the poorhouse." M Take you to the poof house, father ? What are you talking about? You're going to my house* 1'ou are going to llVe in style. No poorhouse about that. Ain't you glad to see me ? Say, Manio, come in here and see my poor old dad I" There was A moment's silence. SI wly, very slowly, the old man un derstood} slowly ho raised himself in bed, and, holding up his trembling hand, snid, schmnly: " God be praised !" Revengeful Animals. I Whilo It must be come e l that ani- 1 n a's posse s most of man's good 4 1 a tie.s, it cannot bo denied that they share many of his faults. Ani mals chef isli ideas of revenge with a most human tenacity, a:id appear to believo ih >roughly in the proverb that declares it to be sweet. There have been octauons when this long cher ished desire for revenge has boen gratified in a serious manner. The Hev. JohnSelby Wation, in'hls highly suggestive work on the "Reasoning Power in Anima's," alludes to tho fol lowing t ragie occurrence that happened at St. (.loud, in tho neighborhood of Paris. A largo Newfoundland dog was kept tied up during the hot weather, and every morning a servant maicl, as she passe 1, thinking to do if a kindness, threw a quantity of water over the animal. Tho dog appeared to consider this dally deluge as an insult, and be ing tied up, it was unable to manifest its resentment. Ono day, however, the brute was released; and no sooner did the unfortunato servant present her self than it sprang at lier with intense ferocity, and before she could be rescued, killed her. It has already been 'seen that dogs will try to avenge themselves upon human beings as well as upon animals; while the instances on record where they have indicted punishment upon other dog* are very numerous. In his " Encyclopedia of Rural Sports," Blaine furnishes tho following anec dote : "I had in my kitchen," says a certain dhke, "two turnspits, one of which wont regularly every other day into the wheel. Ono of them, how ever, not liking his employment, hid himself on tho day on which he should have worked so that his companion was ordered to enter the wheel in his stead. But the dog hung back, crying and wagging his tail, and making signs for those present t > follow him. Being curious to see what" he would do, they put themselves under his guidance, when lie led them straight to a garret whero the idle dog was hid, and imme diately fell upon him and killed him on tho 8 pot.'' In this case It can hardly be considered that the dog was prudent in the revenge he took ? although, for the matter of that, human beings rarely are- -as he probably had, for a tlmo at le.ist, to take the place at tho wheel of his companion, Anei'd< t s of the dignified and even magnanimous way in which large dogs avenge theimtelves for insults upon smaller members of their spocios aro j exceedingly numerous, and generally j too well known for citation here. Dr. Hancock, in his "Essay on Instinct," alluding to one of those instances, in j which a Newfoundland dog dropped a | troublesome cur into tho quay at Cork, \ and then, when it was ttruggling for life, plungod In and saved it, remarks that "it would bo difl cult to conceive any punishment more aptly contrived or moro completely in character," adding that " if it were fully analyzod, an ample commentary might be written in order to show what a va riety of comparisons and motives and | generous feelings entered into the composition of this act." A very in- I teresting instant e of tho sagacity with which the^e Newfoundland dogs act, i and tho way in which they retain their resentment, is afforded by Mr. Watson. IIo tells how a gentleman, on arriving at his country home, in the neighborhood of London, discov ered that he had brought with him a key that would be needed during his absence, lie had with him a New foundland dog that was accustomed to carry things, and to it he intrusted the key. On its way to the town with the key tho pjor dog was attacked by a butcher's dog, but attempted no re sistance, and only used its power to get off with its charg\ It delivered the koy safely, and thon on its way home st ?ppid deliberately boftre the butcher's shop until the dog again oamo forth, when In attacked it fu riously, and did not leavo off until he had killed it. ? Chambers' Jotivnal. THE HOME DOCTOR. Cure for Smallpox and Roaiv lkt Fkvkr.? Sulphate of zlnj, one grain; foxglove (digitalis), ono grain; half a teaspoonful of su^ar; mix with two tablespoonfuls of wator; when thoroughly mixed add four ounces of water. Take a tablespoon ful every hour. Klthor disease will disappear in twelvo hours. For a oWUd smaller doses, acoording to age. It Is harm less it taken by a well |>er8on. Curk |for (Johns.-? Tho HcUnUfln American , a reliable paper, gives the fc l'owlng recipe as a sure cure for corns. As the remedy Is very simple, if any of our readers are afflicted with corns, it would probably be well for 'them to give it a trinl: Take one fourth cup strong vinogar; crumnle into it some bread. Lot it stand half an hour, or until It softens into a grxxl poultice. Then apply on retiring at night. In tho morning the soreness will be gone, and the corn can be picked out If the corn is a very ob* stinato ono it may require two or moro applications to effect a cure. Usk ok K a rootios. -The f .ondon 7,<m o?tsays: "It is high time that attention were directed to the subject of nar cotics generally, and the me of chloral and bromide of potassium la particu lar. Incalculable Injury is being don<\ and publio opinion Is being grievously misled by the toleiaice given to the use of 'sleoplng draughts,' falsely so callod. In regar l to this matter and that of the reckless use <>f hypodermlo injections of morphia, the profession should seek to form a deliberate judg ment, and gravely deliver iteelf, At the present moment we are under a heavy responsibility, which it Is Idle to deny ?nd vain ty'dlioiW POPULAR SCIEXCE. A medical exchango declares that Workmen in sulphur mines are rarely | lubjected to malarial diseases. A mineral oil has been discovered in the Elm collerv at Buckley, Wales, which gives a clear, bright tiame, un like that of kerosene, and sends off no ?moke. It promisee to be be of somo i Commercial value. The London Lanctt says it is dan- i gerous to* wear rod stockings. It finds j that a tin suit is used as a mordant to | fix the dye. Becoming more easily j soluble at each washing, it forms with j acid excretions from the feet, an irrl- | tating fluid which often produces dan- j gerous trouble* j News comes from Baku, Russia, that M. Ditmar, a Swede, has discover ed a method of solidifying kerosene. About a yrar ago Ditmar said in a lecture that he had nearly perfected such a process, and the announcement made a considerable stir among oil dealers. A* prominent firm gave him opportunity to work out his method, and are now preparing for the European market several thousand tons of. the solidified oil, which closely resembles tallow and can be used to make candles. M. lifgnard, a French savant, has been latily trying tho effect of "blood diet" on lambs. Three lambs, which for some unexplained cause had b~*en abandoned by their mothers, wero fed on "powdered bl od" with the most gratifying results. Tho lambs in creased in size in the most marvelous fashion, and attained unusual propor- j tions for their age. The coats of wool also became double in thickness. En couraged by his success with the lambs, M. liegnard is now feeding some calves on blood. In tho matter of defense in birds' nests, the nest of the wood powee is decoratod with lichens, whilo that of tho great grcen-crwtcd fly-catch 'r is invariably decorated with a snake's skin. A naturalist who htM seen hun dreds of these nests has never seen ono without the snake's skin. Ho says: "The lichens serve to conceal tho nest of tho pewee, as they do that of the humming bird, which always uses them and conceals its nest effectually; but why does the fly-catclier use tho sn.tko skin? Is it to terrify tho rob ber birds? It builds in a holy in a tree, often not far from tho ground. Thf skin is wove in around the margin of tho nest and is made v*.ry conspic uous." Nervousness. In a very interesting pamphlet by the lata Pootor Beard, published just before his death, he throws consider able doubt upon the generally accept ed theory of tho inert ace of Ameri can nervousness.* Ho claims that his researches upon this subject have formed the foundation of a largo and increasing literature in England and Germany. lie contends that the phi losophy of tho prevention of nervous ness in this country is the -working out by natural forces of tho spirit of con tentment. He looks forward in the centum* to come to what he calls orders of financial . nobility, who, without tho necessity, but not above the capacity to Work, shall ubo their vast aud easy roiourc >8 for the uphold ing of majikintl, j hy>ical and mental. Families thus favored can live with out physical discomfort and work without worry. Hearguos that far from norvousnos3 being a destructive agent in American life, Americans of the brain-working class live longer than Europeans. Ho further argues that the nervous temperament is antagonis tic to fatal, acute and inflammatory disease, and favorable to long life; that most annoying nervous diseases do not rapidly destroy life, and aro consistent with great longevity; that nervousness protects tho system against the fobrile diseases that are so rapidly fatal to tho Banguino and phlogmatic. " In tho conflict with fovors and Inflammations strength Is often weaknoss and weak ness becomes strength. We are Baved through debility." All these facts should afford considerable comfort to those who think that nervdusness is wearing their lives away. Negroes are seldom nervous, and yet their mor tality through acuto diseases is far greater than that of the whites. " If Gambetta," he tays, 4,had been a nervous man ? a brain-bankrupt? ho would probably have survived his wound." Dr. lirard points to tho immense amount of labor performed by nervous men, by men like Gladstone, Darwin, 8pen<;er and many others who have been chroiic fiu fTerers from cerebras thenia (brain oxIuuHtlon). England, Germany' and France, ha says, for ono or two deea les havo been suffering in the name way as America. The Anglo* Americans make more thnn one-half of our population, and ko furnish abso lutely greater numbars of the nervous and non-nerv< u<, but Germans born In this country, or coming hero in youth, broak down as badly as the English, and far sooner than the Irish or Scotch. Ail parts Of our coi n' ry do not suffer oqu'illy. In tho Bouth there is very littlo nervousness; in Colorado and the Northwest nervousness abounds. The dryness of our air and furious ox iremes of heat and cold? conditions that extend across tho continent to tho Itocky mountains ? are the mnln cause of the nervoushess of tflo Americans. It is satisfactory to know, upon the authority of Dr. Heard, Charles Diokens and otlnrs, that we are im proving, in this respect, In physique and mental powers. Wo are tho hard est workeirsin the world, and, snjr* Dr. Heard, " we may bo born larger than tho Germans, carry less flesh, ma ture earlier, dry up and dccay younger; but In dispatch, executive ability, im promptu practical judgment, we can as far excel them as thoy oxcol us in science and philosophy. Every young man feels tnat If no do not become President, It will bebccau^p he did not try to be, or else his own abilities are at fault. Theso are so.no of tho causes whv we are tho most nanguino, tho brlghtost, most plucky and per haps the most cheerful pnople in tho world."? American Cultivator. It Is all nonsense to cUtm that con sumption to hereditary. Who ever heatd of a baby without a good, strong pllr 0 ( IttOfS f t Iphia N?w, GLOOM TO GLEAM. There's a ripple of rhyme On the river of time, is it floats thro' the years and the ages. And a sunny gleam Or a geldeu dream On the saddest of life's sad pages. Thore'R a sad refrain To the sweetest strain, The longest day soon clows, And so we'll take, For U*ir sweet s ike, The thorui'mid life's sweat rosea. The daylight fades In deepest shades, And life has many phase*; The falling dew And sunbeams, too, Make buttercups and da:sios. ? Eliza M. Shtr nan. HUMOROUS. Bell(e) boys ? Mashers. Always going to balls ? Babies. The head man? The phrenologist. * A Londoner advert:sos a powder which will prevent cats running around and making a no sa at night. ' It is black and is put into a gun and makes a noise itself. ? Philadelphia Press. "Yes, sir," said the wood dealer, " I prefer to sell wood to men who do their own sawing. You can't convince a man who has worked all day at a wood pile that there isn't a full cord of it." ? Boston Po > f. *The eaglo feels best soaring hun dreds of feet above the earth, but the minute you got a man on a platform ten inches high hfe knees weaken, his face looks like the shol of a bollod crab, and ho can't remember a word beyond " ?ello\v-citl/,ens." ? Philadel phia Bulletin. "I wonder what Is the matter with Mr. Brown," said the landlady ; " he seems to be very angry about some thing. Why, you should have Been him grinding his teeth just now in the hall." " Perhaps," suggested Fogg, " he is only getting them in order before tackling one of your beefsteaks." The landlady smiled, but there was murder in her heart. ? Boston Transcript. A woman recently applied for Stats aid, and the blank was produced and the usual questions anked. She an Bwered theui freely until it came to, "Your ageV'l "Have I got to tell that?" she asVted. * "The blank re quires It, ma'am," was the r-?ply. " Well, then," slie said, " I don't want any State aid." And she flounced out of the ofllce In high dudgeon.? Boston Tranncript. Statistics of a quail-hunt in Goorgia, gathered by the Atlanta Constitution : The Marietta and North Georgia road is tho great route for quail-Jiuntors. The other day there wero $2,000 worth of dogs (cash valuation) In tho bag gago car on that road, attended by $6,000 worth of negroes (old valua tion.) In tho coach wero $1,400 worth of guns and llfty dollars worth of hunters. On the return trip they had live dollars and eighty rents worth of birds, and they ato a twenty-dollar lunch. Always a Shadow. There always seems t:> be a shadow of BOtne sort over Edwin Booth's lite, pays a Berlin lotter, ar.d the matter which is now troubling him is all the worse because his daughter is the chief sufferer. She is betrothed to a young American who, three or four months ago, was almowt asphyxiated by inhal ing coal gas. As his recovery has been very slow, Mr. Booth wrote to the young man's father to send the In valid to them while they were in Eng land, as ho supposed a change of sur roundings and a sea voyage would hasten his return to health, and the pleasure Which the lovers would oxpe? rience in being together would be a great factor in theca?e. Tho father of the lover consented, and the young man's sister accompanied him. They have been with tho Booths now sev eral woeks, but the invalid's health has not improved. His blood scorns to be ftoisoned, and it lun affected his brain n a peculiar wsy. IIo is n >t insane, but he cannot remember as formerly and has to be directed and watched. He has lost all i iterest in his profes sion, and in his contemplated marriage. Isn't that unfortunate? Miss Booth Is plunged in melancholy by the sad circumstances, and can seldom bo coaxed out of her hotel. Tho doc tors say tho young man may recover insido of two years, but they think it doubtful. It is proba'do that he and his sister will return homo in a fow weeks, or at least they will n- 1 travel with the Booths, ai t:.ero is nothing to be gained by making two pe >ple wretched. He adores Miss B oth, but knows that som ething has mado it temporarily impossible for him to show his affection and regard. The hope lessness of tho ease is it? saddest fea ture. And, of course, Miss Booth re alizes that there is nothing she can do to restore him. IitfoHoll And the fin Mo. The Hon. Chauncey M. Dopow at a lecture in New York told the follow ing story about hi* visit last summer to St. Paul's in London : When we camo to tho statue and sarcophagus of the Duko of Wellington, I asked the guide if he remembored Colonel Hob Ingersoll, and ho answered ruefully that, he did. When Colonel Ingersoll visitor! fit. Paul's the guide ( pointing out the statue) said, with <llgnifle<l solemnity: "That, sir, Is tho monument of tho duke." "What duke?" askod Colonel Hob. " A.11 the dukes are intimate friends of mine." " The Iron Duke," replied the guide, "the great Duko of Wellington, sir; his l?ody Is inclosed In two metallic coffins, a rosewood casket and a stone sarco phagus." At this Hob struck the guide on the oreast with such ardor that ho waa knocked six foot ??way, and oxclaimod: "Old mnn, you have got him. If he ever gets out cnblo at my exponse to 11. (}. Ingersoll, Peoria, III." There aro forly thousand square miles of ?lmoHt unbroken forests in North Carolina, comprising pine, cheat nut, oak, maple, beech and hickory UmW In thalr growth. "ECLIPSE" AUAIXST TIIE WOULD. , , , ,tncp ,{prount_ f" Clue Who *r\%r It, trthlalt?t'iiu"';ta hU lftoo tlu'\ 8tor.v: 0:i May 27 nearly fifty-seven voir* airo' c 'tv ?V v" *5* ??W? t?X city of .New York, lor on that d?v the long-exp^ted race of ?? KclWe ou*t"e r* WUlUl" W:IS to,>? ,U'd,',d on t.ie laco-course on Long ui:in(| ,, J-? an amicable contest betw? the ^orth and the South. The New York volar, ,s of the turf- ,, mile* }. r? j'ronnneut interest than at present had offered to run Kelips/ against anv >o rse that could be pro l,,ee f ' 1 2Sli ><X0: a,"! 1 Thev v*-op ? 1 U"' Kril,iud. in v r T ,Vl'n ra',i,|l.v' " ere I t a t Vi T ('on,l,'t-ti uiue, so stormed ? l ?T ?J XUvln >" d Slopped, the poles of t lea>t a do/en uiose ]>: ece ling them. \vhiel,arvriVil^ WV fouIllU? awniMv ^huh w as simply overpowering i't lmd* ",ilt l,'?> ??????' "V" cZlR Lf'TV'1''"' tl"' Kro,,?,l. TI.,.: h e t ? H 1 U' rar? Um' If htats, the best two in t'.r e: the course 1 was a mile in length. A ? oil. ge friend ! the late David P. Hall, had pr.euJed com man 1,1 ' jot'k,'.v*l,ox, which Th ! a v,ow 1,1 tlu> whole lit 1 1 ' th . tr, V'S Kr??taiMic,,U.v in faring he tra,k "at, lCclipse and Sir Henry (the Southern horse) were brought to ! both in hi'ivc ' the ir' '|r'"VI"K th"rh?'l< WkIi in:,, ."? ' f '.J y T-n i,rt-vic' 1 that scatter, ing of iho multitude which all other methods liad failed to accomplish. And i disappointment fell, like I spectator* i??n mor" than lh? i spectators. it was suddenly ?m nouncul that I'urdy, the jeekev of Eclipse, had ta 1 a dillicultv with his ? owner and refused to ride. *To substi TnnT^ir hVm l?'e giving up the contest; but tho man as absolutely stubborn. and the tinio had come. Another rider wast,?. start w?sl t,1L* 8i#nal f"r the I start >\as given. l 8tuo;l c w?e s ,tho w** ?*???. its Clh. H "''^^"gfxciteinent found j a ? Off went the horses, everv eye straining to f.llow them Fou'r tln.08 they d.,<h,?l by th.. juc ??,' ?t ,n I k?aeVTrLUm," ?ir ? see Ld ltS ?f th0 ^0,,therners ? Si t(! l0,lP up beyond e. n rol while the depression of the more phW- ' Slmt^lwf I?1 In HI 6 ;l P>?.v?if?fehiff. ( , V f? ,nt' 8at Jt,hn Randolph, be not inp 1?' a ?f VtTrt"toi ? "?an to be noticed mote particularly in a suc ceeding paper. Apart from his intense ' national pride, be had persona! reasons I Jo rejoice at tho turn things weJe taking; for lie bad bet heavily on the " w,u p?'p<?wi sail for hurope upon clearing enough to pay his expenses. 8 **<*? h?Vr >elu^>S(',, for the horses to get their wind, and again thev were brought to the stand. Hut now a cir cumstance occurred Svhieh raised n deafening shout from the partisans of the North. Purdy was to ri-le. How 1 his scruples had been overcome did not appear, but there he stoo l before us and was mounting Kciinse Armin ! "Go!" wea;hleSl 8Usl)l'nHe- the word' I tnnir t, ,fl h0l\rd' Sir Henry - lns'( 0 track- aml kt'l't the lead for more than two mih-s and a i.alf Lelipse followed close on his heels, and, at short intervals, attempted to p iss. At every snurt he n.ade to get It pb' high-pitched and Mm tratii g voice was heard ea^h time It iir r> ,hol?Te - " can't do p!,h i v ^ ou c,in,t do It. Mr. 1 V }> ou, cm t do ifc- Mr- J'??iy !" I J, f' I urdy did do it. And as he wok the lead what a roar of excite ment went up ! Tens of thousands of dollars were in suspense, and although LpUm '! #"?t dl'P<>nf,ing. I lost my ,an<1 fflfc if n sword had E rLi 'g < mP" Purdy kl'pt the load and caino in n length or so ahead. f*,!0!8? ^ run ei?ht and the third heat was to decide the day. The confidence on tho part of the southern gentlomnn was abated. The fVnnfg*r ?f f?,r IIeury r,)(,n "n to tho front of our box and, calling to a yen tinman, mid : -You n u.t rl,l0\|?r noxt heat. There are hundreds of thousand* of South* rn money depend ing on It That boy don't know how one J r TK0"'1 k4?,RI' hiH h0rf<C'H "'outli oprn i The gentleman positively re f''f.ed, saying that he had not been in ? ? T ,n0nth?- r,"! manager pegged him to com? down, and John Randolph was summoned to use nis eloquent persuasions. When t, i"01"?8 , W7d n,5Xt brought to the stand, behold tho oentle ?nftn appoared, booted and spurred with a red jacket on his back,' and a Jockey cap on his head. On the third heat Kclipse took tho lead and. oy dint of constant whipping and spurring, won by a length t his closely contested raco. There was never contest moro ox citing. Sectional fooling and heavy pocuniary stakes were both involved. Tho length of time heforo It wiw de cided, the change of rider.4, tlio vary ing fortunes, all Intensified tho Int.er e?t. I havo Horn (he groat Derby races; but thoy finish almost as soon as they begin, and were fame enough In comparison to this. Hero for nearly two hours there was no abatement in the strain. I was unconscious of everything else, and found, when tho raeo was concluded, that the sun had actually hllstered my chee'c without my perceiving it. The victors wore of course exultant, and I'urdy , mounted on Eclipse, was lei tip to the judges' stand, the hand playing " See the Con quering Hero Comes." The Southern ers horo their loss like gentlemen and with a good grace. It was suggostod that tho comparative chances of Adams and Jackson at the approach ing presidential election should ho tested hy a vote of that gathering. "Ah," said Mr. Randolph, "If tho question of tho prosldon'-y could ho settled by this assembly there would ho no exposition. Mr. I'urdy would go to the White House hy acclamation." Horse cars run hot ween R1 Paso, Texas, and Fmo del Norte, Mexico. ttyoopeudyke Stops Smoking:. "My dear," said Spoopendyke, rump ling his hair around over his head and gazing at himself in {.ho glass, "my dear, do you kno< I think I smok'o too much ? 1? doesn't agree with mo at all." "J ust have always thought!" chimed Mrs. Spoopendyke, "and be side, it mjikt s tho room smell so. You know tli is room ? *' " I'm not talking about tho room," retorted Mr. Sp?>opendyke, with a snort. "I'm not aware that it affects tho health of the room. I'm talking about my health tiiis trip, and 1 think I'll break olT short. You don't catch in<i snicking any more," and Mr. Spoopen dyke yawned and stretched himself, and plumped down in his easy-chair and glared out of the window at tho rain. " How are you going to break off?" inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke, drawing up her sewing-chair, and gazing up into her husband's face, admiringly. " 1 suppose the best way is not to think of it at all." - " '1 he best way is for you to sit there and cackle about it!" growled Mr. Spoopendyke. " If anything will dis tract ii iy attention from it that will. Can't ye think of something else to talk about ? Don't ve know some sub jects that don't smell like a tobacco plantation ?" "Certainly," c v>ed Mrs. Spoopen dyke, rather nonplussed. " We might talk about the rain. I suppose this is really the equinox. How long will it last, dear?" "(iast the equinox!" sputtered Mr. Spoopendyke. "Don't you know that when a man quits smoking it depresses him? What d'ye want to talk about depressing things for? Now's tho time to make me cheertul. If ye don't know any cheerful things, keep quiet." "Of course," assented Mrs. Spoop enkyke, " yo i want subjects that will draw your mind away from the habit of smoking like you 'used to. Won't it be nice when the long winter even ings come, aud tho tire is lighted and you have your slippers and paper-?" "That's juat the time 1 want a cigar!" roared Mr. Spoopendyke, bound ing around in his chair and scowling at his wife. "Ain't ye got sense enough to shingle your tongue for a minute? The way you're keeping it' u j) you'll drive mo back to my habit in less'n an hour," he continued, solemnly, " and then mv blood will bo on your head!" , . " I'm glad you're going to stay nt home to-day, ' continued Mrs. Spoopen dyke, soothingly. " You'd be sure to catch cold if you went out; and by and-byo we'll have a piping hot dinner ? " "That's it!" ripped Mr. Spoopen dyke. "You've driven me to it in stead of keeping mo from it. You know how it's done! All you need now is a lightning-rod and a dish of milk toast to I o an inebriates' home! Where's that cigar I left hero on the mantel V Gimme my d< atli warrant ! Show me my imported doom! Drag forth my miniaturo colli n !" and Mr. Spoopendyke swept tho contents of the sholf on the tloor and howled .dis n adv. "Isn't that it?" asked Mrs. Spoop endyke, printing to a small pile of snulT on the chair in which Mr. Spoop endyke had b'l-n sitting. "That looks like it." " Wall I" yelled Mr. Spoopendyke, grasping his hat and maklfcps^or tho door. " Another time I swear off you go into tho country, you hear?" and Mr. Spo >pendyke dashed out of tho house and steered for the nearest to bacco shop. " I don't care," muttered Mrs. Spoop endyke; " when ho swears off I'm will ing to l-avo, and in tho ineantimo 1 suppose he'll bo healthier wilhmt his pipe, so I'll luing it upon the wall where he'll never think of looking for it," and having consigned the tobacco to the dames, Mrs. Spoopendyke gath ered her sewing materials around her and double-clinched an old resolution never to 1> si her temper, no mattor what happened. ? Brooklyn Eagle. Murder In a Mosque. A correspondent ot the . London Htawlurd sends iin Account of a horri ble crime ut Constantinople: Every Friday ? the Turkish Sabbath ? prayers for the sultan are read in nil mosques. During divine service at the Mosquo of Sultan Aehinet, ono of the finest buildings in the capital, the' imaum or priest. mounted the pulpit. to perform t his duty at a moment when the sacred e lifleu was crowdcd with the faithful. The p'iest was on the pointof reciting the prayer 'n question when suddenly a soft a or rcllgous student, who had followed him up thesteps of the pulpit, drew a yataghan, which ho had con cealed in the folds of Ills garment., and, exclaiming in a loud volee, " What I you would pray for a man who is bringing this count ry t > ruin ?" split his head open. The congregation looked on aghast whilo the as.-'ftssin quietly descended from the pulpit, seemingly indifforont about making his escape, and remarked that Abdul Ilamtd had no right to be the chief of the faithful, as he had not, fulfilled any of the obligations of his position. No attempt was made by those present to arrest him, and some even attempted to favor his est ape. The assassin was ultimately captured by the police, and by the sultan's ordors removed to Yildiz Kiosk. Common Hens'. One pound of learning requires ten pounds of common sense to apply it. This is the reason why so many mon with but a limited win cation outstrip thousands of our college graduates in thorace for life -men in all professions and trades. Education is a good thing, the best equipment, with character, that any young man can possess when start ing out to battle for himself'. Mut how often do wo see graduates of colleges left far In the rear by men with but a tenth of their knowledgoof books, but ! far above thom In practical common sense, and persistent, intelligent in dustry ? -rugged characters who would have been greater men had they pos sessed the book learning of their col lege competitors, and held fast to their common senne.?- PrMbpterian Observer A bad lot ? The lot you have t:> pay tax os on and can't sell.