Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE BRIDE. Whenever I iead of a wedding, With a btide that is young and fair, With the theen of-lace an her boso'm. And orange fl)wers it' her hair; A corded -ilk, and a long square train, A white bouq. et, and a fan. Maids of hon r ii pale tu- ah gowns. Ush ', the gtoota, and "best man;" When I read of the tears and blushes, Tne love, the vows, and the ring, 'The prayers and coneratulations, The ble-singS, and everything; I sigh and I sigh as I wonder What the fate of that bride will be, As she launches into the future Careless, and happy and free. Yes, free: But how boon w ill that freedom Yield to the cares of a wife? Bow soon wi:1 the smiles and blushes Give place to the burden of life? fow soon will the vows be forgotten. And only the ring remain To recall the d -eams of her git ll:oo4 That were only dreamed in vain? Her bosom will hold many heartache, And her eyes will hold niany tears, Her smiles will gro- f. wer aui fewer, Her cares will increase with her years; The flowers will die on her bosom, The light will s ip out of her eyes, And the heart that wasonce full of music Will be the bithp'ace of sigihs. So whenever I read of a wedding, With its sunshine and its showei s, Its love, and its vows, and its blessings, Its music, and its flowers; I know that the sighs and the heartaclies Wi'l come to that fair young life, For she will be never-no, never; A bride again -but a wife. SUNSHINE JOHNSON. Seeing the two men together and knowing that one of them was a mur derer, there was one chance in a thous and that the visitor would pick out the right man as the criminal. The white man sat on an easy can vas camp chair. He was a tall, thin man, with a stern, forbidding look on his face that might have been caused by remorse, but which. more probably, was caused by dyspepsia. There were certain inflexible lines about his mouth which showed him - to be a man of great determination, and his firmset lips were lips that appeared never to smile. His sharp eyes had a clear and steady look in them that went through a man, and few of those around him cared to meet those eyes when there was a spark of anger in them. He was such an unerring judge of character that he had come to believe he could not make a mistake, which is a dangerous state of thinking for a man in his position, because a mistake made by him might mean death to somebody. Nevertheless, he trusted people that no one else would think of trusting, and his trust was rarel taken advantage of. This man was J. S. Flint, the head of Tall Mountain Peniten - . The blacl-f man who stood beside him, and who was receiving some in structions from him, had a simple, trustful, childlike face which is so of ten found in the race. He seemed to have difficulty in keeping his broad mouth from relaxing into a smile; and only the fact that he was talking with- the master of the penitentiary kept down his exuberant good nature. No convict would take the liberty to smile while Jackson Flint talked to him, but this one was a privileged character even if he wore the striped suit of an inmate of the penitentiary. He was Sunshine Johnson, in for life, yet on his arm rested Jackson Flint's little curly-headed daughter, 'ged six, and her arms were round his bakneck, and her fair cheek was pressed closely to his dusky face. The murderer was one of tbe convicts that Johnson Flint trusted. He had cer tainly had an easy time of it; he wait ed on the table, took care of the chil dren and did any odd job about the house. He was called "Sunshine" by -every one around the camp. Doubtless he had not been chris tened that name, but he had been called by it before he entered the peni tentiary, and by that name he was known on the books of the institution. If a visitor, attracted by his name, or his beaming countenance, so full of good nature andlove~of all humanity, asked the superintendent who he was, Flint's brows would knit too'ether in a frown as he answered shorty: "A lifer." If the visitor still pressed for infor mation as tohis crime, the frown grew deeper and the answer gruffer: "A murderer." Most people gave a gasp at this piece of information, as they saw the convict playing with the pretty child of the superintendent; but Jackson. Flint was not a man anyone weid care to ask personal questions af, and if the astonishing' state of things caused a look of surprise to come over the visitor's face, the look was seldom .~ translated into speech. Sometimes the inquisitive visitor sought informa tion from Sunshine himself. When asked about his crime Sunshine al ways looked embarrassed and gener ally cast an appealing glance at his questioner. He stood on one bare foot, and slowly rubbed the ankle of it with the toes of the other foot, while a look of perplexity came over his countenance. "Foh de Lohd, boss, I dunno much about it, dat's de truf. I'spects I killed the man. He's dead, anyhow, and somebody done it: dey said it was me; yes, dey proved dat at de cohts. You seelIwas drunk at the time, and I danno anything at all about it. 'Spects dat's de reason dey didn't hang me at the time. I's very sorry I done it if I did do it." And then Sunshine would make an excuse to run away and play with his little charge. The penitentiary was little more than a camp composed of rough wooden buildings, and was situated on a spur of the mountiin overlooking the gt deep valley, from the bottom of w 'ch the turbulent little river sent up an unceasing roar. All around were the high peaks of the mountain range closing the place in apparently without a break, although there was an unseen narrow gorge through which the river escaped, and along whose banksthe single line of railway track ran. The mountains all around were densely wooded, and not a build ing was in sight anywhere, except a large hotel at the bottom of the valley, which was a sort of summer resort, with broad verandas. The eternal silence of its location was broken only by the brawling river that ran beside it, and by the occa sional trains which passed close to the hotel, as part of the biog house was a station on the line. Passengers on the railway coming to this hotel, when they first caught sight of it, away down in the valley below them, generally made a motion to gt their small bits of baggage gathere together pr-epara tory to leaving, but the conductor used to say to them good naturedly. "We are not quite there yet; I wouldn't make a move for a minute or two if I were you. Just watch that hotel." Then, looking out of the car window into this incomparably grand valley, ;he passenger found himiself taken round and round the circumference of the great gulf. No the hotel was di rectly below him, again he was look ing at it from across the valley; round and round the train went, getting gradually lower and lower, and it was nearly an hour after the passengers' first sight of the hotel that the train drew up under its verandas. The convict settlement on the spur of the mountain was invisible from the r.anwa track, but the convicts were there because the railway was there. They were hiced out to the railway company by the State govern ment, and as the t:-aiu dashed by, sometimes the passengers were shocked to see, standing close in by the clif fs beside the track, twenty or thirty black men in convict garments, some with ball and chain attached to their ankles. And then, as the train dashed by, white men with rifles on their should ers were seen guarding the workers on the railway. There was no wall around the camp, it's only protection being a small picket fence, easily leaped over. But nature guarded the prisoners. On almost every side the descent was steep, and often precipitous, but a convict would run no danger to life or limb in making the descent. But al though a convict might easily have leaped the slender barrier and might have dodged the shots from the men on the wooden tower, his escape was next thing to hopeless; lie had to climb over the mountain to get away, and a telegraph station in the convict settlement quickly apprised all civili zation outside this wilderness that such and such a man had escaped from the camp. The usual result of an attempt to escape was that a week or ten days af ter the leap over tue barrier, a gaunt, starved ian came out of the wilder ness and gave himself up at he first place where he could get something to eat. Often he failed in scaling the mountain, and returned after a few days to the camp itself. The very frailty of the fence around the camp showed the utter hopelessness of at tempting to escape. On the particular day in summer to which this account relates there had been a furious storm of rain in the mountains. The clouds seemed to have become entangled among the peaks, and they hung over the valley, unable, like the prisoners. to escape. and poured their floods into it until the little river had become a wild and raving torrent, gleaming here and there in white among the dark trees. Toward night the clouds succeeded in breaking away and floated over to the west, but the mutter of distant thunder showed that the storm was not yet over while the heat seemed more oppressive than ever after the terrible day's rain. When darkness set in the 'atery silver sickle of the moon hung over the valley and filled it with a weird, dim, tremulous light. The roar of the torrent, increased by the stillness all around, came up from the bottom of the valley on the night air. The master of the penitentiary sat in a rocking chair on the veranda of his wooden house smoking his corn cob pipe. What little coolness there was was outside and not inside the house. Suddenly a burst of childish lauohter broke on his ear, and looking to tie left he saw his little girl lash ing Sunshine Johnson as if he were a horse, while that good-natured indi vidual trotted up and down with the child on his shoulders. "Sunshine," cried the master. "what are you doing with Dorothy out so late as this?" The convict came to an instant stop at the sound of the master's voice and the child even hushed its laughter. Little Dorothy was much more afraid of her stern father than of the good natured murderer. "Well, you see, massa, it's like this." said the convict, deferentially. "Lit tle Dot had to be in house all de day on account ob de rain, sah, and it's so warm inside dat her mother she thought we could play a little before she goes to bed, and den little Dot, sah, she thought she'd like to ax you, if she might stay up and see de mid night express." 'The midnight express, nonsense.! exclaimed Flint, "Dorothy, you don't want to stay up so late as that'" The little o'rl made no answer, but clung the tigiter, with alarm aroand the convict's neck, and whispered in to his ear. "She'd like very much to stay up, sah; she hasn't seen it for a long time. I don't think it would do her any harm." "Oh, she's whispered that to you, has she?" The convict laughed a little and then checked himself. "Well, massa, I don't think it would do her any harm; you see it's so warm dat de little gal couldn't sleep at night, anyway, and perhaps after she sees de train den she goes to "Oe h, very well." said Flint; "if her mother said it's all right, it is all rioht." T1he midnight express, Flint knew, was a great sight to see on a dark night. The train appeared with a long row of lights from out a tunnel, and passina' by the convict settlement, disappeare'd among the trees and through another tunnel. It came in sight again on the other side of the valley, its long line of light appear ing to crawl slowly around the moun tain, while the roar of the train min g led with the roar of the torrent be ow. Thus it appeared and disappeared at different intervals and at different levels, sometimes going in one direc tion and sometimes in another, but al ways getting further and further down like an enchanted train that had be come entangled in the mountain slopes. It was nearly time for the train when Jackson Flint was startled by a cry from his child. What he saw the next moment simply paralyzed him for the time. Sunshine Johnson had picked up a lantern which stood on the platform in front of his quarters, and shouting to Dorothy, "Run in de house, honey, run in de house, ceapcd the fence and made of f into the woods. The little girl clung to the palings of the fence and cried for her comrade. The clear voice of Jackson Flint startled evdry one in the camp: "Come back, you scoundrel! Where are you going? A wave of thie lantern was the only reply. Then Flint quickly put his hand to his hip and drew his seven-shooter. The sharp crack of the revolver clove the air. "Run in de house, honey, run in de house," repeated the convict, at the top of his voice, and then the master noticed that his little crying, curly headed girl stood in a line between him and the escaping convict. As a general thing Flint was an un erring shot, but now his hand trem bled as he fired over his little girl's head six times, and then threw the empty revolver on the g'round. Every time he fired the rapidly disappearing convict swung the lantern over his head. Flint shouted to the sleeping guards on the towers: "'Why don't you fire ? Fire at him with the shotgun!" Flint clinched his teeth and awaited the result. His command had been practically a sentence of death. and lie knew it. The rifle sends one pellet of death, the shotgun sends a .dozen leaden messengers, each shrieking for a life. Three men on the towers f ired al most simultaneously fronm the shot guns. whose scattering fire raked and tore through the bushes. Again the convict swung the lantern over his head, but this time there was a shriek of pain from him, although lie never stopped in his headlong career, and hearing. All the convi ets long ago had been locked up in their quarters, 'and most of the officials had turned in, but now pale-faced men came hurrying up to the master. Tile assistant superinten dent hurried forward, partly dressed. and said to his chief: "Anything wrong. sir "Any one e-caped:' "Yes." "Who is it. sir: "-Johnson. "Not Sunshine :" sai:d the assistant in amazement. Flint turned on him savagely. - I said Johnson. What other John son is there here.:" And he glared with clenched lists at his subordinate. The other did not answer for a mo ment: then lie said: "Shall I turn out the guard and search for him :' "No: -o to bed." Little i)orothy, silent and frighten ed at the firing clung gasping to the paling. Her mother came out and ran toward her, bending over and try ing to calm her fright, satisfying her self that the child was not hurt. With the little girl in her arms she approach ed her husband. *'Who was it C she inquired in tremulous tones. ",Take that child in:" thundered the master of the penitentiary. "What is she doing out at this hour: And get inside yourself." Mrs. Flint turned without a word, for she knew her husband in this mood had better be left alone. Ife strode up and down the platform of the veranda, muttering to himself: "He is sure to be caught, and then Flint ground his teeth: and there was no question but it would go hard with the trusted convict when he was caught. The bitterness of it all was that the whole camp-convicts and guards knew how lie had trusted Sunshine Johnson. and thea he had fired at him and missed him. After an hour's walking back and forth, Flint sat down again in his chair and covered his face his hands, thinkinging over the startling events of the night. Suddenly a very soft and low voice made him spring from the chair to his feet. "Massa Flint," said the voice. Sunshine, with the lantern in his hand, stood before him in a very de jected and crestfallen manner, his clothes torn by the bushes and bram bles through which lie had run. "You scoundrel:" cried Flint, "what did you do that for?" "Well, you see, massa." said the negro. apologetically, "yvou didn't hear it did you? Like a 11ash Flint understood, and the hard eyes of the master filled with tears as he placed both hands on the shoulders of the convict, who, like a culprit gazed on the ground. Flint struggled with his agitation for a mo ment, but seemed quite unable to say jut what he wanted to say. Finally e spoke commonplacely enough. "Then you saved the express, did you. Sunshine?" "The convict looked up. The mas ter had always called him Johnson. "Yes, nassa; and de conductor lie's a coming. We need a shovelling gang out dar at onct. "All right, Sunshine," said Flint. "You go and tell the superintendent to come h-ere at once, and tell him rout out a gamng to clear away .the dirt. Say, what's the matter with your arm?" Sunshine's left arm huno' limp by his side, and now that tie lantern flashed upon it Flint saw blood trick ling down his hand. Sunshine looked sheepish and guilty and scratched his ankle with his bare toe. "Well, you see, sah, I got hit a little on dat arm when dey fired de shotguns. Don't expect they fired at me, you see, sah; guess dey wouldn't a hit me if dey had, dey sort of fired promiscuous like," lie added, as if it were necessary to make an excuse for the men who had shot him. "Can't expect very good shooting, you know, for thirteen dollars a month, can you ?" "Go in the house,"~said Flint; "I will ror~t out the gang, myself, and ITll send the doctor to you at once." At this moment the conductor, with a lantern hanging from his elbow, and a brakeman, clamberek up from the track into the convict camp. The conductor was a jovial fellew who knew Flint. "Hello:" he said, "what's this you've been doing to us? Been trying to smash up the night express? Say, the whole side of a mountain seems to have come down over the track." "Yes, I know that." said the other. who did not know, however, the risk the convict had run in order to save the train. "But say, how soon can we get this cleared away: We'vc got the Governor on board,~ and hie's mad as the mischief at the delay." Flint pricked up his ears at the men tion of the oflicial. "Oh, lie's on board, is he? Well, I am glad of it. I want him to pardon a lifer." "Well," said the conductor, scr-atch ing his head. "I wvouldn't ask him just now if I were you, because lie's not in the best of humor." "I don't think he'll ever be in better humorto do what I want him to than now, because if it hadn't been for my lifer his private car might be lying at the bottom of the ravine with him smashed tip in it. "Oh, that's how the niattter'stands," said the conductor. "W.ell, I guess the Governor will do it." And the Governor did.-New York .Journal Too Late. It is not uncommon for gimrls em ployed in factories producing men's clothing to put slips of paper contamn ing their name and address inside arti cles, and it is said that some romantic marriages have resulted from the practice. A week or two ago a young man living near Poirtland, M1e., found in a pair of socks a note. which said the writer was a gir'l empfloyee in a knitting factory in Kenosha, who would like to correspond with the finder of the note, if an unmarried man. with a view to matrimony. The young man thought the matter over', and finally sent a sweet little note to the name and address given. A few days since lie received a curt letter, informing him that the girl who wrote the note was now married and the mother of two children. Some years had elapsed since the note was writ Fat'al Explionf. SAV~iNAs.tu Ga., June 36.-By the explosion of a boilei at a saw mill at Waltourville today two men werec killed and a third fatally injured. WILBERFORCE University, the oldest institution in the country for the education of negroes, a few days ago conferied the degree of L. L. D). up)on President Cleveland. The President has sent an autograph letter to Presi dent M1itchell of Wilberfor'ce declin ing the honoi'. Wilberfor'ce is con duted umider the auspices of the Afri can M1ethodist Episcopal church, and was founided by Bishop D). A. Payne. WiIEs in the United States Senate Ion. Patrick Walsh, says the MIil ledgeville Union Recor'der', made a splendid use of his high position in turning thme thotights of the countiry suthward. FULL OF GOOD WORKS. REV. DR. TALMAGE'S SERMON A T BE ATRICE, NEB. ie Chooses for His SubjeCt "Slters of Charity" and Iskcotrses Eloenxtly pon the Glorious Rights Vouehisafedl to wo mni and the Way They I'Ptrste Them. LEATIEC-, Neb., June 23.-In his seriron for today Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is now on his summer western tour, has chosen a subject that must awaken the sympathies of all lovers of hunmanity-viz. 'Sisters of Chari tV." The text selected was Acts ix, 36, "Tis woman was full of oood works and almsdeeds which she did." Starting now where I left off last Sabbath in reciting woman's opportu nities, I have to say that woman has the special and superlative right of blessing and comforting the sick. What and, what street, what house has not felt the smitings of disease? Tens of thousands of sickbeds: What shall we do with them: Shall man. with his rough hand and heavy foot and impatient bearing, minister ' No. He cannot soothe the pain. He cannot quiet the nerves. He knows not where to let the light. His hand is not steady enough to pour out the drops. He is not waklful enough to be' a watcher. The Lord God sent Miss Dix into the Virginia hospitals, and the Maid of Saragossa to appease the wounds of the battlefield, and has equipped wife, mother and daughter for this delicate but tremendous mission. You have known men who have despised wom an, but the moment disease fell upon them they did not send for their friejids at the bank. or their partner in business, or their worldly associ ates. Their first cry was, "Take me to my wife." The dissipated young man at the college scoffs at the idea of be ing under home influences, but at the first blast of the typlhcid fever on his cheek he says. "Where is mother:" Walter Scott wrote partly in satire and partly iii compliment when he said: 0 wouran, in our hour of ease, Uncertr.in, coy ard hard to please. When pain anud anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thoul I think the most pathetic passage in all the, Bible is the description of the lad who went out to the harvest field of Shunem and got sunstruck-throw ing his hands on his temples and cry ing out, "Oh, my head, my head:' and they said, "Carry him to his mother." And then the record is, "He sat on her knees till noon and then died." lt is an awful thing to be ill away from home in a strange hotel, once in awhile men coming to look at vou, holding their hand over their 'mouth for fear that they will catch the contagion. How roughly they turn you in bed. How loudly they talk. How you long for the ministers of home. I knew one such who went away from one of the brightest of homes for several weeks' business ab sence at the west. A telegram came at midnight that lie was on his death bed, far away from home. By express train the wife and daughters went westward, but they went too late. He feared not to die, but he was in an agony to live until his family got there. He tried to bribe the doctor to make him live a little longer. He said, "I am willing to die, but not alone." But the pulses fluttered, the eyes closed and the heart stopped. The express train met in the midnight wife and daughrters going westward, lifeless remain's of husband and father coming eastwar-l. Oh, it was sad, pitiful, omwhelming spectacle. When we are sick, we want to be sizk at home. When the time comes for us to die, we want to die at home. The room may be very humble,' and the faces that ~look into ours may be1 very plain, but who cares for that? Loving hands to bathe the temples. Loving voices to speak good cheer. Loving lips to read the comforting promises of Jesus.4 In our last dreadful war men east the< cannon, men fashioned the musketry, I men cried to the hosts: "Forward! I MIarch:"' men hurled their battallions 1 on the sharp edges of the enenmy, cry ing: "Charge: Charge:" but woman scraped the lint, woman administered< the cordials, woman watched by the< dying couch, woman wrote the last t miessage to the home circle, woman t wept at the solitary burial attended by herself and four men with a spade. We greeted the general home with brass bands and triumphal arches and 1 wild huzzas, but the story is too good t to be written anywhere, save in the1 hronicles of heaven, of M1rs. Brady, who came down among the sick in the 1 swamps of the Chickahominy; of An- 1 nie Ross, in the cooper shop hospital; of MIargaret Buckinridge, who came t to men who had been for weeks with I their wounds undressed, some of them frozen to the ground, and when she 1 turned them over those thrat had an 1 arm left waved it and filled the air t with their "H-urrah :' of MIrs. Hlodge, 1 wro came from Chicago with blank-' ets and with pillows until the menc shouted: "Three cheers for the Chris-s tian comrmission: God bless the wom en at home:" then, sitting down tos take the last message: "Tell my wife not to fret about me, but to meet mec in hieav'en. Tell her to train up the boys whom we have loved so well;t tell her we shall meet again in the 1 ood land' tell her to bear my loss r ike thie Christian wife of a Christian c soldier:-" and of MIrs. Shelton. into 3 whose face the convalescent soldier y looked and said, "Your grapes and y ologne cured me." MIen did their y work with shot and shell and carbined ad howitzer; women did their work t with socks and slippers and bandages a ad warm drinks arid Scripture texts ad gentle strokings of the hot term lales and stories of that land where :L hr never have any pain. M1en knelt a own over tihe wounded and said, e On whfichr side did you tighit: 'Wom- a en knelt down over the wvornded and ti said: "Where are you hurt: What a nice thing can I make for yo-u to eat? 1t Wat makes you cry:" Tonight t hile we men are sound asheep in our u beds there will be a lighrt in yponder t] loft, threre will be gr'oaning in that 11 dark alley, threre will be cries of dis- c tress in that cellar. MIen wirll sleep a nd women will watch. e Again, women has a superlative 2 right to take care of the poor. There tl r'e hundreds and thousands of them a n all our citics. There is a kind of b work that men cannot do for the poor. c [ere comes a group) of little barefoot 1: hildren to the door of the Dorcas so- n iety. They neced to be clothed and s p)rovided for. WIch of these direct ors of banks would know how many s yards it would take to make that little v 'irl a dress: Which of threse mascu- f tine hands could fit a hat to that little ti girl's head: Which of these wise r' men would know how to tie on that o new pair of shroes? M~an sometimes x gives Iris charity in a rough way, and 2 t falls like the fruit of tree ini the I east. which fruit comes down so hieav- c ihy that it breaks the skull of the man I w~ho is tr'ying to gather it. But womi-h an glides so softly into tire house of di destitution: arid finds out all the sor-b rows of the place; and puts so quietly c the donation on the table. that all the family come out on the fr'ont steps as u sne departs. expecting that from un- e der her shawl she will thrust out two t wigs and go right up toward heaven, i r'-m whnce se seems to have come s lown. 0 Christian young woman, f you would make yourself happy uid win the blessing cf Christ, go out umong the destitute. A loaf of bread )r a bundle of socks may make a iomely load to carry, but the angels )f God will come out to watch, and he Lord Almighty will give his mes ;enger hosts a charge, saying, "Look fter that woman. Canopy her with our wings and shelter her from all iarm," and while you are seated in he house of destitution and suffering he little ones around the room will ,hisper: "Who is she. Ain't she )eautiful :' and if you listen right harply you will hear dripping down he leaky roof and rolling over the otten stairs the angel chant that hook Bethlehem. 'Glory to God in he highest and on earth peace, good i Vill to men." Can you tell me why L Christian woman going down Lmong the haunts of iniquity on a Illristian errand, never meets with My indignity I stood in the chapel )f Helen Chalmers, the daughter of he celebrated Dr. Chalmers, in the nost abandoned part of the city of ?dinburgh, and I said to her as I ooked around upon the fearful sui' -oundings of that place, "Do you -ome here nights to hold service 'Oh, yes," she said. "Can it be pos ;ible that you never meet with an in ;ult while performing this Christian !rrand:" "Never," she said. "Never." 1 That young woman who has her ather by her side walking down the treet. an armed policeman at each -orner of th" si --et, is not so well de ended as t'al Christian who goes ortli on gospel work into the haunts )f iniquity, carrying the Bibles and >read. God, with the right arm of lis wrath omnipotent, would tear to >eces any one who should offer in lignity. He would smite him with ightnings, and drown him with. loods. and swallow him with earth luakes, and damn him with eternal ndignations. Some one said: "I dis ike very much too see that Christian roman teaching these bad boys in the nission school. I am afraid to have ier instruct them." "So," said anoth :r man, "I am afraid too." Said the irst, "I am afraid they will use vile anguage before they leave the place., 'Ah." said the other man, "I am not .fraid of that. What I am afraid of s that if any of those boys should use bad word in that presence the other )oys would tear him to pieces and kill iim on the spot." That woman is the >est sheltered who is sheltered by om iipotence, and it is always safe to go vhere God tells you to go. It seems ts if the Lord had ordained woman or an especial work in the solicita ion of charities. Backed up by bar 'els in which there is no flour, and by tores in which there is no fire,' and vardrobes in which there is no :lothes, a woman is irresistible. Pass ng on her errand, God says to her, 'You go into that bank or store or hop and get the money." She goes n and gets it. The man is hard fisted, )ut she gets it. She could not but ielp get it. It is decreed from eternity he should get it. No need of your urning your back and pretending you Ion't hear. You do hear. There is io need of you saying you are begged o death. There is no need of you vasting your time, and you might as vell submit first as last. You had >etter ri-rht away take down your :heckboo -, mark the number of the :heck, fill up the blank, sign your lame and hand it to her. There is no: ieed of wasting time. Those poor :hildren on the back street have been mungry long enough. That sick mani nust have some farina. That con umptive must have something toi iaselhis cough. I meet this delegate >fa relief society coming out of the tore of such a hard fisted man, and say, "Did you get the money?" "Of ~ourse," she says, "I got the money; hat's what I went for. The Lord told ne to go in and get it, and he never ends me on a fool's errand." Again, I have to tell you that it is roman's specific right to comfort un ler the stress of dire disaster. She is alled the weaker vessel, but all pro ane as well as sacred history attests hat when the crisis comes she is bet er prepared than man to meet the :mergency. How often you have seen twoman who seemed to be a disciple >f frivolity and indolece, who, un ler one stroke of calamity, changed o a heroine: Oh, what a great mis ake those business men make who iever tell their businessto their wives: There comes some great loss to the tore, or some of their companions in >usiness play them a sad trick, and hey carry the burden all alone. He s asked in the household again and again, "W hat is the matter ?" but he >elieves it a sort of Christian duty to :eep all that trouble within his own oul. Oh, sir, your first duty was to ell your wife all aboul it. She per .aps might not have disentangled -our finances o:? extended your credit, >ut she would have helped you to >ear misfortune. You have no right o carry on one shoulder that which is] ntended for two. There are business nen who know what I mean. There1 omes a crisis in your affairs. You1 truggle bravely and long, but afteri .while there comes a day when you< ,"Here 1 shall have to stop," and< -ou call in your partners, and you< all in the most prominent men in -our employ, and you say, "W e have o stop." You leave the store sudden y'. You can scarcely make up your sind to pass through the street and ver on bridge or on the ferryboat. [ou feel everybody will be looking at 'ou and blaming you and denouncing ou. You hasten home. You tell our wife all about the affair. Whatt oes she say ? Does she play the but erfly ?' Does she talk about the silks, nid the ribbons, and the fashions: o. She comes up to the emergency. lie quails not under the stroke. She elps5 you to begin to plan right way. She offers to go out of the omfortable house into a smaller one t nd wear the old cloak another win tr. She is one who understands your ifairs without blaming you. You >ok upon what you thought was a uin, weak woman's arm holding you p, but while you look at that arm iere comes into the feeble muscles of ,the strength of the eternal God. No I hiding. No fretting. No telling you. bout the beautiful huse of her fath-r r, from which you brought her, 10i,i I) or 30 years ago. You say: "Well, uis is the happiest day of my life. I g m glad I have got from under myt urden. My wife don't care-I don't e are." At the moment you were utter-1 e- exhausted God sent a Deborah to ieet the host of the Amalekites and yatter them like chaff over the plain. There are sometimes women who I it reading sentimental novels and -ho wish that they had some g'randc eld in which to display their Chris-i an powers. Oh what grand and grlo-e ious things they could do if theys nly had an opportunity ! My sister, ou need not wait for any such time. Scrisis will come in your affairs.t 'here will be a Thermopyhe in your I wn household, where God will telld ou to stand. There are hundreds of ouseholds where as much courage is emanded of woman as was exhibited y Grace Darling or Marie Antoinetter r Joan of Arc. Woman is further endowed to bring I s into the kingdom of heaven. It is asier for a woman to be a Christaina aan for a man. Why ? You say she I ;weaker. No. Her heart is more re-e love. The fact that she can more easily become a Christian I prove by the tatement that three- fourths of the nenibers of the churches in all Chris ,endom are women. So God appoints 'hem to be chief agencies for bringing this world back to Gud. The greatest ermons are not preached on celebrated pla'forms: they are preached with an idience of two or three and in private home life. A patient, loving, Chris ain demeanor in the presence of trans rression, in the presence of hardness, n the presence of obduracy and crime, s an argument from the force of which no man can escape. Lastly, one of the specific rights of wonian is, through the grace of Christ. inally to reach heaven. Oh, what a rnultitude of women in heaven: Mary, hrist's mother, in heaven; Elizabeth Fry in heaven, Charlotte Elizabeth in heaven, the mother of Augustine in eaven, the Countess of Huntingdon -who sold her splendid jewels to build chapels in heaven; while a great many others who have never been beard of on earth or known but little have gone to rest and peace of heaven. What a rest: What a change it was rrom the small room, with no fire and >ne window, the glass broken out, nd the aching side and wornout eves, o the house of many mansions:" No more stitching until 12 o'clock at night no more thrusting of the thumb by the employer through the work to how that it was not done quite right. Plent; of bread at last. Heaven for iching heads. Heaven for broken hearts. Heaven for anguish bitten frrmes. No more sitting up until mid night for the coming of staggering teps. No more rough blows across the temples. No more sharp keen, bitter curses. Some of you will have no rest in this world. It will be toil and struggle and uffering all the way up. 'You will ave to stand at your door fighting back the wolf with your own hand, ed with carnage. But God has a -rown for you. I want you to realize that he is now making it. and when -ver you weep a tear lie sets another em in th that crown. whenever you have a pang of body or soul lie puts another gem in that crown, until after awhile in all the tiara there will be no room for another splendor, and God will say to his angel, "The crown is lone; let her up that she may wear it." And as the Lord of righteousness puts the crown upon your brow angel will cry to ngel, "Who is she' and Christ wi llsay: "I will tell you who she is. She is the one that came up ut of great tribulation and had her robe washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb," And then God will spread a banquet, and he will invited all the principals of heaven to sit at ;the feast, and the tables will blush with the best clusters from the vineyardsof God, and crimson with the 12 manner of fruite from the tree of life, and waters from the fountain of the rock will flash from the golden tankards. and the old harpers of heav en will sit there, making music with their harps, and Christ will point you out, amid the celebrities of heaven saying, "She suffered with me on earth; now we are going to be glorifi ed together." And tTe banqueters, no longer able to hold their peace, . will break forth with congratulation: "Hail: Hail !" And there will be hand writings on the wall, not such as struck the Persian noblemen with honor, but with fire tripped fingers, writing in blazing capitals of light and love and victory, "God has wiped away all tears from all faces." To Save Brakemen's Lives. A circular has been issued by the Interstate Commerce Commission to the railroads of the United States calling attention to the Act of Con gress of March 2, 189;3, providing for the equipment of the freight cars on all such roads with draw bars for safety coulpings and with grab irons or hand holds to aid the employees in the work of coulping and uncoupl ing freight trains. The original Act authorized the American Railway Union to fix the standard for such ap pliances with a maximum variation therefrom. This was done by the Rail way Association on May 26. The :ommission has notified the roads that the law will be in force after July 1, L95, from which date no treight cars at equipped as provided by the Act will be allowed to remain in use. The :ircular calls for a detailed report of the number of cars already equipped >n each road. The 3Mystery Explained. KKo3oIo, Ind., June 24.-Last win :er Mr. Overman, a farmer near Wind all, Tipton county, was found dead vith a pistol near him. No cause for micide was assigned. Yesterday a paper written by Mr. Overman was sound in his effects that explained the mystery. The man's letter says that 0} years ago an Englishman came to ais house with 3o0000 and tried to aegotiate with him to go into the ranch susiness in Colorado. He murdered ;he Englishiman, buried his body in a narshi, took his money and buried it yn his farm. The place is not designat d. This explains the hermitlike life f Overman for many years. Romaute 31 arriage. ATLAsN, Ga., June 27.-In the narriage of Brooks Townes. a young tlanta lawyer, and Miss Fanny Rosa Xkinson, at Kirkwood, Ga., yester lay, a contract made twenty-one years Lgo was fulfilled. When the two vere infar.ts their mothers plighted hem. Mrs. Atkinson gave a deed for er datughter to the Townes baby boy. he children did not see each other 'ronm the time they were three years >ld until they were twenty when they net by accident. Each knew of the contact: and they proceeded -.o fall in ove with each other and ca.rry out he agreemrent. 1(iie~d by a ioous~1' Jnsect. SArANNxu, June 25.-Miss Daisy freen died at Albany today. About a ieek ago, one night when she was sleep, Miss Green was bitten by some oisonous insect. T wo small pimples .ppeared on her upper lip the next aorning, from which inflamnationi set n producing blood poisoning, from rhich she finally died after enduring :reat agony. Miss Green had just re urned from Wesleyan College at Ma on, where she had taken a high stand a her studies. P'oisonied by ic-e Cream. Sxow HILL, Md., Junie 24. -~ Seventy iye persons who attended a festi ial t the Methodist Protestant church if Greenbackville. Ya., Saturday even nig, wer.e made sick by eating ice ream. Several of the victims are so eriously ill that fatal results are ap rehended. Three physicians h ave een in constant attendance since yes erday morning. The business of the ittle town was entirely suspended to Disastrous~ Fire. MiNE'oLIs. Minnr., June 27.--The ost disastrous !ire in this city in oint of loss of life since the Tribune ire of 1880 broke out at 11 o'clock to Lght in the live story building at 240 .nd 242 Fiirst avenue south, occupied >v McDonald Bros., wholesale crock *iy. Six firemen were killed and -I HE PEAR BLIGHT. ing and valtiable Inforni:tm. The attention of the public b1::h so frequently called of late to the :1 ject of pear blight, and so m1a1.: :' quiries have been received by 1. t Georgia experiment station askimi fo detailed information on this Lead. that Director R. J. Redding. finding it I impossible to satisfy each individual inquirer. requested Mr. H1. W. Starnes, the horticulturist of the station, to briefly summarize all that is known up to date concerning this scourge of the orchardist. "The term -blight,' writes Mr. Starnes. "is very comprehensive and although there are five different kinds of blight, each produced by a specific ally distinct agency, in the popular mind they are quite confused. To the average fruit grower 'blight is blight,' just as 'eggs is eggs,' whether caused by insect, fungus or bacterium. If the leaves turn black and witber and the twig shrivels and dies, lie says his trees have got the blight-though per haps they haven't got it bad. Should the malady fail to confine itself to leaf and twig. communicate to branch and trunk and the trees are destroyed. it is still blight, but 'an awful case of it. "Others, more observing. distin guish three kinds of blight, which they call leaf, twig and fire blight. though they do not recognize the agencies at work in their production -many even regarding them as but successive phases or manifestations of the same malady. Others still ascribe the first two to insects and the latter to something else-maybe an insect. maybe:not-perhaps frozen sap. to thie trees being hide bound: at any rate. to something 'diabolically inveterate, and in the latter estimate they are cer tainly correct. "Now, the fact is that of the five kinds of blight two affect the leaf, two the twig and one the entire tree. One of them is produced by a fungus, three by insects and one by a bacteri um, the latter only proving fatal." A detailed description of each would rcquire too much space, says Mr. Starnes, so he giver the followig enumeration whih lie says must suf fice for all but the last naned, which, being the most important, will be touched on somewhat more fully. 1. Pear Leaf Blight.--A fungus, en tomosporium niaculatum, affecting the leaf. This can be controlled by spraying. Use either bordeaux mix ture, modified eau celeste, or ammoni acal copper carbonate, preferably the former. Apply just as buds are start ing and thereafter at intervals of two weeks, until fruit is half grown. 2. Pear Leaf Blister.-An insect in the form of an invisible mite, phytop tus pyri; does some damage, but not a reat deal. Remedy: As the mites live within the tissues of the leaves they are beyond the reach of the ordi nary insecticides. Even kerosene emulsion fails. They must be attacked in their winter quarters by pruning and burning the young wood and fal len leavcs ini rubbish. 3. TwigBlight (a)-An insect, psylla pyricola, or pear tree psylla, slightly resembling the aphis, or plant louse. This is the insect whose excrements form the sweet viscous liquid drop ping occasionally from the trees and known popularly as "honey dew." In this secretion a mold-like fungus (fumago salicena) grows, giving the twig in winter a sooty appearance (whence its name) and forming a coating which closes many of the pores of the tree, and materially af fects its growth. Remedy: Kerosene emulsion applied in early spring, just after the leaves have unfolded, while the young brood is in an unprotected state. 4. T wig Blight. (b)-Also an insect, xyloborus pyri, or pear blight beetle. Ugly as his name sounds, and ugly as he is in face and figure, he does not really do a great deal of damage. In fact none of the blights-twig and leaf -amount to much. They are only a little "scary" on first appearance, lest thay might upon examination turn out to lbe the dreaded fire blight. I have never known a tree destroyed by eith er form of leaf or twig blight; when they are wiped out utterly, it is by fire bligt, and by that only. he xyloborus is destructive in that it gets in its work during' the heat of summer; the resulting destruction is hence sometimes attributed to drought. The only remedy is the amputation of the affected limbs and their destruction by fire. 5. Zymotic Bihor the "blight of fermentation"-a~so termed ~"fire e blight"' by reason of its virulence-is the "king of blights,'' besides which all other blighits are comparatively in offensive and harmless. In character it is, as stated, virulent and fatal, and the utter failure of all remedies (ex cept preventive ones) heretofore de vised and tested renders it a scourge to be indeed dreaded. Unfortunately it is n the mncrease in all parts of the country, especially in this .state, and confronts us with a very serious prob em. For a long time the Le (onte pear was claimed to be exempt, suffer ing, it was said, only from t wig blight.' but it is nowv apparent that it can no longer boast immunity. Of all vari' ties Bartlett appears t> be most liable to zmotic blight. As all growers are unfortunately aware," Mr. Starnes goes on to say, "the malady first makes its appearance known by the blackening leaves. esp ially those in the young growth at the tops of the shoots. The brancai bearing such blackened leaves some times appears healthy, but is often ontemporaneously affected, the bark turning dark and shriveling. A vis ous exudation is often found on tile bark, which dries on both bark and eaves, giving them a glistening or varnished appearance. The mnalady ippears to pass from the outer twigs in-1 ward, toward the trunk, and is more ipt to attack fruiting branches thani those without fruit. While generally ratal, it is not always so. Many at tacked trees blioht and wither in a1 aight, dying wit~in a few days. Oth rs linger for weeks and months some for years. befoi'e finally suc umbing. Others.. still, where the in - aer bark or cambium is not affected. ometimes recover. The malady has :he most varied pathology of any i known to botanists. It was partly :his which prevented the earlier deter' nination of the producing agency. t md which gave vent to so many wild md unscientific theories as to its orn fin-frozen sap and electrical distur- S ances for instance-not to mention .arious insects at whose door it was aid, among others the very xyloborus >eetle previously referred to, as well j ts an innocent fungus, saddled ,vith the blame by an able my ologist, who ought to have mown better. For the frost the >y there may b;e some shadow of m excuse, as in the higher latitudes ylighlt seems to be more prevalent, af er severe winters. Nevertheless itist ust as bad under a subtropical sun, vhiere frost never penetrates. ThI hidebound' theory was once preva- e nt, and orchards yearly had the bark pit as a preventive. To Professor Burrill, of Illinois. s due the credit of having~ establishedI Lt least the cause of the disease. His t nvestigations prove that it is produced E > a bacterium belonging to the great- r KALr5 UAKiN0 POWDER Absolutely Pure. A cream or tartar Daring powder. igliest of all in leavening strength.-La est United States Government Food Re ort. Royal Baking Powder Company, 106 Wall St.. N. Y. ind one of the smallest of known ermns. This bacterium is believed to penetrate the tree through the flowers >r the delicate surface of the expand ng b:ids. Almost any delicate sur 'ace covered with nectar seems to serve is a point of entrance. After penetra ion the germ may lie dormant a month >r longer before beginning to operate. Whence it come none can say. Bac Leria retain their vitality for a long Lime, even in dead matter as servered imbs and branches, and in suitable ttmospheric or other media flourish tnd multiply. Through such atinos pheric media they are transferred to he point of penetration in flowers or >ud. The bacteria are readily trans itted by inoculation. This is abso utelv settled. "No variety seems absolutely to re ist, though Seckel is probably least ;ubject, and Bartlett, as stated, the 2ost easily affected. Kieffer resists xell, as dia Le Conte for a long time. hough now blighting badly in all ections. Moisture seems to favor he propagation of the germ, and ence, generally those varieties con ai.nin most water are the greatest ifferers. "R-emedies, le said, "are altogether >reventive, not curative, and may be ummed up briefly as follows': "1. Cultivate as little as possible and ertilize no more than is absolutely ecessary. This for the reason that he exudation from the trees contain ng the germs drops on the ground and the media in the soil afford better ondtions for propagation when they -ich in nitrogenous compounds. '2. After the orchard gets four or ive years old instead of cultivation, eed down permanently in some grass est adopted to the locality. The trees will then be strong enough to main Lain a fair growth in spite of the in umbrance of the grass. "3. While the trees are young and ,he land in cultivation, before grass is et, spray after each working or cul Livation, the soil, not the trees, with a weak solution or Bordeaux mixture. rhis is as yet tentatine, but can do no iarm. It will probably prove bene icial, as copper sulphate has been used uccessfully upon artificial culture of he bacteria in question. At any rate t can do no harm. If desired the lime :an be left out of the mixture and cop er sulphate solution alone used, as he foliage is not expected to be ouched. Use, say, four pounds cop er sulphate to fifty gallons of water. "4. As the bacteria are believed to nter the tender shoots and proceed lownward and toward the larger limbs nd trunk, the most effective remedy vill proba bly be found in cuttining off he diseased limbs, so far in advance f the blight, as it prog'resses, that nly the sound tissue will be left. "5. As the germs retain their vitality for a long time, caremutb - urn systematically a oroughly all pruned wood and leaves, and keep he orchard at all times free of them. "6. As the bacteria are readily com unicated by inoculation, it is advis able, if not necessary, to sterilize the runing knife or saw by immersion in arbolic acid, after each amputation, hat the germs may not be communi ated to healthy tissue in another tree. '-The above precautions will result n a considerable diminution of the hsease if carefully followed." A Great Speech. The annual meeting of fhe Alumni tssociation of the Soy Corolina jollege took place in the college hapel at Columbia on last Tuesday iht week. The Columbia- State in paking of the meeting says Dr. WV. . C. Bates, president of the associa ion, intrduced as the orator of the vening Mr. A. WV. Summers, a brilli at and properous young lawyer of' )rangeburg. Mr. Summers' address.' as a rare production of its kind; he. poke of the elements of manly sue :ess. showing the great importance f self-reliance, perseverance, cour- oe, oral rectitude, obedience to te romptings of conscience, and the uperior excellence of a good charac ..r. He declared that it was only the eserving who attained positions of ank and trust in the world. Devo ion to principle, strict adherence to he path of justice and honor are the c:iteions of ideal manhood. The ora r next showed that in the past the auith Carolina College had continual' sent forth into the world mcen pos sing all these traits of high mant ood. F-romn her walls have gone ~rthi such men as McDullie. Wallace ud Car-lisle, all of whom have exemn !itied before the world the superior xcellence of their alna mater, the ower of this institution as a moulder i moral character and the promoter f intelligence. In ordir . maintain epast gloiou1s i' r e l f the college, ud advancet her' t a "ider field of ;efninless, she needs, s:uid t he orator, e el forts of her yon. meu, for in outhi there is strength. Some states ir. has said that the welfare of a na ion depends upon the opinions of her ic y-ounger than t wenty-five years; > tu instituztion requires the aid of Ir youn aba:h~nni. Comnpetition .no"' thie dter'ent colleges is very u-,ea''i is re~achinig forth to in cease its usefaiaess and broaden its old of influence. She must not be ein~d in the race. The alumni of the >ege should at once take active steps. >ward thle orgr'anizationi of county ssocations: there are already any county be cton s, bur. iere should ~b n n unty. The address was highly en yable from beginning to end. It 1wed th roughou t fervid patriotism d deep love foi the old college, and msed the audience to be equally en iusiastic in their regard for the time onored i nstitu tio~n. Mr. Summers' elivery wvas easy and graceful. lie in everyv sense an orator, and a ~orthy alumnus of his alma mater. An Ex-Convicrt. AT.AN, Jui; 2.5. -Warren L. Ed yards, who has been connected with e oflici'al organ of the Young Men's ~histain Association here, has left. avi ng behind several worthless tecks. These are mostly- held by the lerchants bank, which is caught for. 30. Edwards is a polished young an and caime here from South Caro nat and got on well. Now it is learned at he served part of a sentence in the outh Carolina penitentiary. He was dleased on condition that he should