Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Vol. XIV. BARNWELL COURT HOUSE, S. C., MAY 7,1891. No. 30 9 A SNOW FANCY. Tho yellow ftffted thiofrs o\ Jun* Whose hum la like atlull hna^n, 8weet homes they havojon Hwayins bed* When are unpacked tho clover heads— Those burstinK globes of purple iiia. The fuzzy coats upon each spire Of blossoms perch, to search the rim lost it with honey overbrim. But unlike these the wild, white boos That bwarm upoti the leafless trees; For our dull ears they have no song. They do not to the earth belong. No stirring of the soft white wing Was ever heard or flutter! rig. Although the darkened air they crowd. Their happy hive is iu the cloud. And they for the sky children there In unseen pastures of the air Distil the dew. O happy bees ■ ' That swarm among the winter trees. —Annie Bronson King in Century. tJIEONETH AT FOLLOWED Two meo, John and David, walked aide by side along a dusty “«®1. They were returning from the great ftnvn in the valley to their homes in the hamlet hanging high above them against the mountain. As they walked they chatted of the sights in the town, of tho good wives and little ones to whom they were com ing after-three days’ absence; joking, joyous, happy in remembrance of their town jollity and in the anticipation of their welcome home. Occasionally they •topped under the overhanging branches of an orchard and ate apples, or they kneeled by a spring, making a enp of their hnnda to drink from; then j^sed on again. [ The snn struck down fiercely upon their bac ks and shimmered on the dust of the road. • **Ah. the heat,! .Let us go inoretdowly. John.” v ••No,” replied the other. *‘It will In* ■cooler higher up. Let us make haste and reach the shade of the woods, and l>e- yond there will In' a breeze blowing.” Suddenly ? as they wailo»,l TWid f.-H ihnt 'They were not atone, and turning hi» head saw a third person following a few p:w»*s behind t’»ei;i, an extremely tail-man. wrapped in a black cloak. As David turned the man’s eyes looked into bis with a steady. unflinching gaze. Jlie black rolled figure was only a short fits-* tance liehiivl him, wallring with a long, even stride, without wound, his cloak drawn up to his ears, covering his mouth and chin. As David looked he shivered; then, turning Ins head quickly, he walked r.qi- idiy ou, urging his companion to hasten •‘But just now yjeu w'tc railing to me to go blower, and now you want to hurry.*■ * “Yes. let us hurry—the heat!" And they pssffsi on. the ardeut sun boating on their backs. As they went forward David turned over in his thoughts the strange sight he had K.-en Ix'hiud them, that was behind them now, he felt certain, though not daring to look again, a shiver coursing the length i t his spine at the thought »>f tlu* mu filed figure in that fierch heat. And John, had he also stwn it? l>id he know what caraa«wiftly. without sound, at their heels? He looked c,anttonsly from the c<»mer of his eye at his friend without turning his head t4» n slightly. John plodded on. his eyes on the ground and Ins big shoes white with the dust, grumbling at the heat, his face dull and expression less. At length they readied the cooler air where the road climlxsl lietween tlw arching trees of tho forest, and John ''halted to r«“Kt in the shadow. Ho wa.i older than his friend and tired more warily. “Now," thought David, “he will look back and see.” And ho watched the others face narrow!v. They sat on the e fg.* of tho road, their hanging do\vs» tht^-lwnk. John’s Tho two friends turned in at old An drew’s little gate. At tho door they wore met by the farmer’s wife, her sleeves rolled nn to the elbows. “Ahl John Martin and Dave! Back from the fair? Come in.’’ “Yes, Mary, on the way home. Where is Andrew? David here' had a turn on the road coming along below, and we * want Andrew to mix him something. The sun was too strong for him, I think." “Yes, yes. Andrew! Andrew!” She ’raised her voice and called into the house over her shoulder. “Come in, both of you. He is somewhere about. It is cool iu the house at the shady side, and Dave can lie down there,’’ 1 David cast one brief glance backward as he followed the others into the house. In the road just beyond the gate, and looking over it, stood the one that fol- —lewedy—-- ' Did Andrew was held in high esteem among the/mountain people as half doc tor, half wizard, with his knowledge of the use of roots and herbs. Ho brewed a muddy, pungent tea which David drank, and Mary, the wife, placed e # \tra platen at the table and insisted on tho travelers taking suppor,- “Let David rest,” she said, “and if he is better after supper you can go homo in the evening by the short cut. There ' will bo a moon: or ho may stay the night if not strong enough to go home.” * So it was arranged. Old Andrew and 'John talked together of the simple, worn subjects of their rude lives—the poverty of the soil, the,long season without rain, the many hardships that befall the farmer. The wife plied David with questions alxmt the town. “Was there a big crowd at the fair? And the weather—was dt fine everyday? Did you see the cows from the Duncan farm?” and so on. Du- v; l answered ube^ntly, thinking of the waiting stranger outside the gate. When the twilight fell the young man felt able to go 'out- imd was anxious to hn frmnlj i. l *" "1 along the path through the rockY fields. As they reached the base of “The Rocks" and iiegan the steep ascent the mdon — A SUNLESS WORLD. If the Kla<1 sun were dead, a nlxht Arukl the awful nitht of space, A cold, annihilating blight Upon our fair world’s face— * The wonders of the seasons, heat And soothing rain, tile gentle flowers. Recurrent summers, and tho l»eat Of iiassion hearted .hours t tVould b<>ue things not known Inearth, While neither man. nor boast nor bird. Would waken i>in sign of birth, Nrtt any song or word: Where souls have vainly throbbed and fought. Where some have conquered, thcro would be No dim awakciiiug of tho thought That scorns mortality. No young spring fluttering in the breast T)f the undying dream ofjifo— Love, which is more fl*«» other best. Sweet in its very strife; Bv.t a nr wan. stricken star would fly in dao^rirtOTlTlg^ Rolled in the winter of tho sky And winding sheets of ice. -George Edgar Montgomery. TIM SULLIVAN’S GHOST. lanUTh^ window “Whose ghost is that?” ’ This was said by Peter Donnelly, who was sitting up in his bod, having been just awakened by tho noise of claul chains in his bedroom. Tho wi curtain was up, and tho light from a quarter moon shed a soft bul-clear light nix >n all the objects in the room. The ghost was walking up aud down the <pnrtment, wrapped in a clean, white, nheety looking costume and dragging a long chain, which was fastened to its made a weird noise at fliost. Thcghrtst stopped on hearing Donnel ly’s question, and, turning its ln-ud to- wujhl the bed, gazed with mournful eyes upo.n Peter, and. after one Ion’; look, it took up its walk aguim Thef.ice whicli Doimeliy saw w.ai en*)ng!i to satisfy him wuijt. and which evtTy movement of the promised the widdy the prisint of a fine fat sow, with a hope of allaViating the sorrow of Mrs. O’Rourke a bit. Now, I claue forgot that promise, and the conse quence was that I got me pass, and was laving Purgatory op the run, when who should 1 ran acrost but Pat O’Rourke. ‘Hello,’ says beware you off?* ‘JTia,’ says I, ‘and I’m in adivil of a hurry.’ ‘Tim.’ 1 says he, ‘did you send the fat sow that yon promised me widdy on the night of the wake?’ ‘No,’ says'1, ‘1 Plane forgot It when I got sober.’ ‘Did you git abscP lution?’ says he. ‘No,’ says I; ’when Father Malone was giving me absolution | I was so busy trying to remember the things I had done that I clahe forgot all those I had in tended To dp.’ With that Pat callwd .out. ‘Stop him.!’ aud they stopped me in a j iffy. I showed me pass, but Pat told his story, which I couldn’t deny; mwl fhln they Happed thls ebam on me, to carry; as They said, till I re- dnmed me promise or got absolution. Now, 1 have me pass, but do you think what a foine sight I should make in heaven, frightenin’ the young angels, wid me chain hangin’ and bangin’ about, and bearin' the young ones sayin’, at ivery turn, ‘There goes Tim Sullivan wid a broken promise hangin' to him.’ And now, Peter, this is what I want wid yet I’ve selected the pig, but I want you to drive him to Widdy O’Rourke’s door, fur TlMet ye know, Peter,That there's ne'er a ghost in heaven or *arih that can drive a pig whin he has the divil iu him, which same he usually has.” “All right," said Peter: “I’m wid ye." Then the ghost said to Peter, “Can you fly?" “Not much,” said Peter. I With that the ghost tore off a bit of the sheet he was wearing as a kind of i Roman toga, and handing it t*» Peb-r said, “Wrap this around your arm, me- boy, and ye'll fly wid the ai-*j of a wild duck.” , KNOWN BY THEIU TICKS. AN ODD GHOST STORY. CHARACTER READING . MANY MILES' OF THROUGH WIR^S. Telegraph Operator* Know tho Diapoal- tlon* of Karh Other from *ho Way .'<1^4- tage^ Are Sent from One City to An other-—Some of the Freak*. The telegraph operators of this city are noted the world over ns experts. Not only are they musters of their art as a class, but many of them have de veloped the wonderful faculty of read ing character by the sharp ticks that ^ eery boy. SHAWLEY, THE . GROCER BOY’S SPIRIT, BRINGS TROUBLE. • . ‘ i ' v- r Hit* Klngulcy Scared the Child, tTe Fell f'"~ „ I and Died—Now Khe Heoe the f.ittle Oer- » naan In Every Boy That Brings Her Groceries—A True Ktory. <• Miss Emily Kingsley, a most reapect- ablo matden lady, who lives in a dainty little flat on Throrip avenue, near Han cock street-, Brooklyn, is being pursued by the outraged ghost of a German gro- HOW FIFTY ESCAPED. CONFEDERATES WORKED A CLEVER SCHEME AT CAMP BUTLER. emanate from the little brass instru ments For instance, any old time op erator who ranks as firxt rate can tell by the tick of the machine in Philadelphia,. what minuter of man is at the other ehd of tho wire, no matter whether he bo in Chicago, New York or any other distant city Just as tho bank cashiers r«eog : nizo the signatures of old customers, so do telegraphers identify friends by their “sending” or writing. The fast, jerky sender, who stops every few minutes to tighten this screw or loosen that spring, or to talk with his desk mate easily tolls the receiver that bo is a nervous, irresponsible young man of little experience imd less judgment; he warns the receiver to be on constant watch for errors, for which he will shirk any responsibility Without having def inite reason to say so, tho receiver will cot hesitate to assert that such h sender would iie himself out of any difficulty that might arise * The fearlesi*. manly telegrapfier is tie- man who sends ev’en, well spaced Mor.se -fast, of couitc. l-r.t steady wiUial; i-ui 1 .•ends “all the time.” This man taldoui baa “cr.ses.’’ He impresses the receiver at once that hv is invariably correct lie never stops for bad copy, liecause he etcr sang out. “la So, that Yffta- you. r #se. f John led the way, stepping cautiously, cidling hack.to tiieytluir to avoid theun- ‘certain footholds. But D avid, climbing aft'-r, thought of nothing but the somber shape tint had waned outride amt 1i;m1 followed close across the tL id* after them, and which he felt elimlK'd up aud up behind him, step for step. ^ Til-n* was no sound, except when at aze wandtwod iiack. hm-y come, and JUrHrb over w hiciTtliey hacl David waited. But tha old man only looked out from the shadow with a lialf smile of satis faction that so much of the lorfg journey was over, his simple countenance placid with the thought. “How white tho road IbI” he said. “And not many travelers on it,” said David, in half question, still looking earnestly nt his comrade’s face. “Not a creature in sight,” answered John quietly. ‘‘We have the road to ourselves. Others aro not such fools to come out in 4 ’ii.s sun!” ~~f David, reassured by this, turned •lowly and looked back. Just below, by the first tree, in full view, silent, motion less, %*>cl the tall figure, a litllo nearer than before. David leaped to his feet and ran along the steep road, stumbling, terrified. John saw nothing, and this creature so close, in plain view. “Hurry, hurry!” he called back, and ran on. “What has come to you? Are you crazy?” cried the old man. “One can't pause to rest but you jump amt run!” “1—I am not—Well. 1 waot to got home,” panted David, “We have yet far to go. Wo tnust not waste time resting.” “You arc sick. Yes, you are* pale; your teeth chatter. Wo will stop at old • Andrew’s and get you something. It i^ this scorching day!” “Yes, yes; we will stop at Old Am drew’s. He will cure me. It is not far, only beyond the next turn, where the trees end,” * “And wo can take the short way home from there, the path from the back of his house, up ‘The Rocks.’ ” • Again they walked rapidly onward, theold man full of concern for his friend, the young man looking straight ahead. At the bonier of the- forest the small own house stood on the edge of Old ndrew’a scanty farmland, the i>oor. ^ hatf barren land of tkese mountain farms. 7 Beyond the few fields that ^teetehed up gradually from the back of B bouse rose abruptly “The Hocks,” a cliff, reaching far along the side of the mountain, sheer, forbidding, its |pld \W' lace crossed by a rough, narrow path way. By using this steep way the jour-, ney to the cluster of houses above the cliff was made much shorter than by fol lowing thd gradual, winding ascent of the road, . intervals a loose stone rollt-d down, dis lodge 1 by Dtoir feet. The night was beau tiful, the bmad faco of tlu-cliff shone in the moonlight. Here aud there along tiio edgo of tho jut b. whore there was danger, rude railings had been placed to protect the traveler; these were rilvered by the moon. At some places a rock jntling out cast Iwluw it a dense shadow amid tin* surround mg wbir ness. As tlu-y cliinbed, David tried to force llimst-lf to turn and face the man in the black cloak, and question him, bis name, his niUuon, why ho followed, gaining steadily, step by Bt« p, but ho lacked courage. Once he had met that cold, steady gaze; bqcould not brave itngain. He vratclieil bis comrade climb above him slowly. Slowly he climbed after, and, glancing down, mw the edge of the black cloak blown upward against bis legs. He stopped and put his hands over his eyes. “Who are you?” ho said in a low, broken voice. “Why do you follow', presring nearer and nearer?” And h voice answered at his ear, while the folds of the cloak, blown upward, ftapp-d about him, “You sbull know my name when you are at tho end of your journey.” “No. now!” whispered David hoarsely. ,** N*tw, y-onr iMitn**”- "I'.u , in i ! Li* Vi'v'ce. "“'Trii'en' Pa- Vc An ro;ce. you reach the next railing." . And they climbed on again in the moonlight. John had gone round a turn of the path out of sight. David ad vanced feebly, riring laboriously fron\ step to step, pausing often. Tie could feel the other pre. sing up behind him, ever nearer. When they reached the railing above David stopped, with his liand m>on it. “Now, your name.” “Do you not know?*’ , The moonli ght fell with tender beauty over Lie broad valley below, upon the 'white road, upon the forest trees, upon the small tirowii house at the foot of the cliff. The black cloak floated about his head, before bis eyes, homing lie tween them and the fair picture. A hand fell upon his, grasping the railing. “Your name!—your name!” __ David's hand closed firmly on tho wooden rail, and he leaned heavily, against it for support; an arm closed round him. “I am so near—so near. Do you not knew?” , There was a sharp sound of breaking Wood as the rotten timber parted in two, and David fill outward, his struggling feet scraping along the rock. As he fell the folds of black swept round him, the arm embraced him more closely and they went down together. And David knew that the one xhat followed w T as Death.— Charles Edward Kinkead in Pittsburg Bulletin. , A ferplexinff Situation. “Hello, Willie," said a small boy as he met a comrade in tho ? treet about dupk, “yer mother's lookin’ for ye.” “Is she?” “Yes, she's got the whole family out atid she’s go in’ on terrible. She says you were the pride of her heart and was goin’ to be the comfort of her old age.”" “Go ’way; she didn't!*’ “Honest. Sho says sho never did see one so smart fer yer age nor such a com fort around the houso. You’d better go on home.” “I was hurryin’ with all my might. But are you sure she said all them things?" . ‘ “Yes, ami a lot more. Qo on, she’s waitin’ fer ye pow.” “Well, I don’t know. I tell ye, Jimmy, I’m anghry doubtful in my mind about whether I hsdnT'beUer stay lost."— W—hiugton Pott. _i __ ^ . mredi Tim?” The ghost, without fitoppinjf in its walk or turning iLs head, nodded aiweiit: “What’s up?" said P-*t--r. And then tin* ghost broke its silnncf nml an.swered, “1m up. and that’s what's tUw* matter. • • . “Didn’t they wake you properly. Tim? 1 was there, and 1 thought we did it in style. There were a fine lot of broken bead? at the wake, and my own was one of them." w “Yis. yis,” sail the ghost, “the wake was all right, and 1 thunk the boys for tin* way they liehaved: though I’ll say it now. that 1 didn't like the way of that. Dh.i Flaherty malting love to my wiJdy, right lx-fore my eyes, as it were. If 1 bad l*-on able. 1 would have raised mein me coffin au«l welted the head of, him— never moind. I've me eye on him. Tis true. *t is a dead eye. but he’U bear from me yet.” “Tfi’en wbat worries you. Tun, that you're strolling about when it’s tifne for all honest dead •men to be quiet? Are you not out of purgatory yet, after all the money your sorrowing widdy has pu-1 Father Maiouu for candles aud masses —— “Yis. yis; that’s all right. I got tut s two wrecks ago.” Then, in the name of the divil, what do you want. Tim Sullivan, trapesing arouiuT in those nightclothes? And if U'r anything I can do for the repose of your soul juri say the word, Tim, and for ouhl friendship’s sake I’ll do it as sure as me name’s Pete Donnelly." “Tut, tat, IVter Dounelly; don’t use the UMine of the divil so familiar like- yon don't know’ him. He is d much big ger man than 1.thought him till 1 saw him down below. Do you know, Peter, that he’s a bigger man than the mayo; or even the ctrref-of polneeT •* 1 ■■Amf'tran- v :i ).'l .^LLl'Vje TTHTi: Tun? “Av course 1 have.” “And what did he say to you?” “Well, you see. it was after I had mo pass.when I was on me way here, when he ‘rivas coming along with a whole crowd of his folks, and they stopped me, and wi lout a word they took me by the arm and escorted ine right to the divil himself, and the divil ho says to mo, very politely like.‘What is yournama^ sir?’/ And 1 answered him at onqt, 'Tint Sullivan,' your hoimr.' Then says hq, 'Where arc you going?’ Their say* I,‘1 was thinking of going back to me old home for a bit.’ Then says he, ‘Have you your pass wid you?’ 1 says, ‘Yis, your honor,’ and 1 up and shows it to him. He took one squint at it, but he would not touch it, and I .seen him shake a bit When his eye caught the sign of the ere*?, and then he says to me, ‘All right. Mr. Sullivan.’and taking his hat off be made me a most polite bow? jest as if I was tin* finest giutleman in the land, aud I was left alone in the twink ling of an eve. Oh. the illvil is a born gintleinkn, Peter, and any man who says anything agin him is no friend of arim*. and 1 tell you that for your owm good, Peter Donnelly." ^ “Well, w’ell. Tim Sullivan, have it your own way. Divil a word will I say against the divil, seeing as he is a friend of me old friend Tim Sullivan; but what Can I do for ye, Tim?” “I hardly know if I can trust tho sa- crctvvid yer Peter, but I’ve been casting me %e—me ‘dead eye’—you know, all around me, and I cun think of no friend of mine but yon, Peter, w’bo has the courage to take the job in hand that I’ve come for. I can do the most of it, but 1 need a live man to help.” “Will a man risk in the job, Tim, or is it only the putting some blaguaxd out of the way who's disturbing your pace of mind? If it- is the last, Tim, you can count on me, but no dalings vyith j'our giatlemahly frind the divil, if you plaze, Tim Sullivan. I’m ubt that kind of a man.” “All right. Peter," gat A the ghost, “and by your leave, IT1 take a chair. Aud now, you remimber Pat O’Rourke’s wake, do you not? where Brannagin claned out the medicine bottles after the whisky was gone.” “Yis," said Peter, “I remember it right well, for me cousin Judy Fismgan broke her leg iu falling over the corpse." “Well,” Mid the ghost, “X, that night, decipher tu the cleric* before starting it This sort of trrtin has a friend ih every •den All tho students and ojriratorsin way stations know him. They recognize his sending aud api>cal to,him as would a child to an older brother. Tins man’s character is well known to every oue with whom be work* 8NKAKA, JOKKS AND DUDKS. Tie sneak is | promptly “roasted." He sends slowly, and with an aggravating drag. He never j swears on the w ire, w hich, by the way, j is certain to be rewarded by dismissal I if reported, although a majority of ojier ! ators are more or less profane. While this insn may not liave been in the | business at the time of any strike, be in : certain to Is* called a “scab” by ail the ! out of town men, W'ith whom he has fre quent spats. • Practical jokers and witty men are u.w. , Wrapping the piece of cloth around , * , that tac i&mt .wascoxilher UiauLmtt of • ^-rm PcLt from hu U»d, and [f Kv;t H H -'ffiodiff thcom fffff i trtllTffR Tfifi’"S1:11 iVa;V. So. rriU- ' “ , ' :n WT ' 5 Tici,” .nit of th- ™ window they xaile*l-to:^'tb<*r. Before very long Peter found himself | near a large building, fr*'m whiph he | could hear the sounds of cattle, and j soon he discerned in tho obscurity the i forms of animals iu a neighboring iu- { closure. “Here we are, and here are the pigs," i said the ghost. The ghost and him companion cntue to } the ground close to a big. fat sow that | .was contentedly sleeping/ when Peter j remarked: “Tis no aisy job to run ii» | tliis pig. How many miles is it to the i Widdy O'Rourke’*?*’ “Only four miles." said tho ghost; “but 1 have a plan to make short work of it. Have yo a praty iu your pocket, Peter?" “1 have,” said Peter. /'Then breatne ou it and bold It to her nose and shell follow ye like a dog," the which Peter did, aud afi«*r an hour of goo 1 work they arrivod and knocked at the Widow O'Rourke's door. “Who’s knockin’ there?” said a sleepy voice. “It’s l, Pete Donnelly, and a frind with a prisint of a pig fer yo, Mrs CTRourkrt.” “This is no time of night cornin’ to an honest widdy’* house; but I kuow ye for a pure man, Pete Douuelly, and I’ll op*» the door, if ye’ll bide a minute, till 1 throw ou a bit of me clothes.” A few minutes later the door w’.is opened by Mrs. O’Rourke, who, light in hand, asked Peter and his friend in, but when she noticed the white garments and ghastly face of the ghost she threw up her hands, dropping the light nu 1 shrieked, “What divil of a ghost is tnia wid ye, Peto Donnelly?" to which Peter replied in soothing tones: “Bun*, be calm, Mrs. O Rourke, it’s only Tim Hullivaifis ghost. ’ Yo must re- mimber Tkn^-’tis but a short time we WflkiMl tmnTTOl dnyAU h'lTcal! hi mom! Miss Kingsley has a snug little fort une, and for years she has maintained an independent establishment with tho aid ©f it diguifi**l c-olered person named Martha.— As Miss KingHcy and Martha never kept late hours nor gave card pax ties, they led, on the whole, a very happy, if uneventful, existence, until' V’ithin tho past year. Then the "l£*ht” came into their lives. Fifteen months ago Mise Kingsley was living in a flat on Madison street, Brook lyn. Most of her supplies in the provis ion line were drawn from a corner gro eery in the ucighbortaxid and delivered by a little German grocery boy. Me was » jolly fat chap, with a stupid face aud prodigiously red cheeks, full blue eyes and hair that gained him the title of “cottontop” with all the children of the neighborhood. HIS BOSS SlALLnX? HIM ‘^SIlAWTJKY.” His trips to Miss Kingsley s flat were a never ending source of delight to “fshaw- ley,” whose correct name, by the way, was Karl. Like many other maiden lad ies; Mine King*l»y ,, deteetod children, and though “rihawW” did the work of three or fodrmen, still, on account of his sixe, and particularly on account of his ac tions, ho was nothing but an intensely Dlft2'it««fl ns Ciflxenn in STanggled GfotlMW mid Armed with Forgml r««n{Mrts a Fen. »»t a Time FaMrd th# VlgUan* j GnartL on VLIttns Days. 1 A man in prison is like a man without hands, whose brain is constantly contriv ing to overcome physical deficiency. Tbo ingenuity of a brain unrelieved by dis traction of employment is capable of - schemes which rival fiction. Many thrilling tale* are tobt^ by pri/ioueri of war abtmt their privation? 1 ami advent ures while under the espionage of on alert and relentless enemy. An experi ence worthy of record was told an Amer ican reporter, tlw* other night, by a man who now stands high in public h/e in "pTonnessec; ^ Ho was once s confeilerato soldier. He • ha*l the misfortune to bo numbered with j the captured at Fort Done Ison, and With hnndrtxla of his comrades was hurried , aomsH the Ohio and incarcerated in Camp Butler, a spot which will long be remem bered by those who were so unlucky oa to be imprisoned within its battlements. After pining for several weary month* for an exchange that was never effected 1 these southern patriots set about to ac complish their own deliverance. Vari- j ous plans were concocted, but were all successfully- thwarted by the vigilance • of their ctihtodiana Finally the inspira tion of this story hit npon a scliemo which for audat ity anil clcvernei** is un- lirccedented, and won for its originator ] a title and distinction among his com- i pauiona which time has not yet obliter ated. Among the prison ore at Camp Butler ; were a number of boy a who served the ‘Shaw* disagreeable boy m/he eyesof “die altoConfederacy in the capacity of “powder mimloTrs:® trffun^W fjbl! known to lieavy artillerists. » rr w as a cij:rra flaw. Tie duties of those youngsters were to convoy powdor chargor from tba tuag ’.rincn to gunners in trenches or to am Mi in like iu/inner on the floating bat- "Jhngffan/* its Sh^ wan Itnown at ley’s” store. One day. wlitlo the poor lady ^as suf fering from a particularly bail state of nervousness, “Shawley" came thumping up-the stairway with a big basketful of potatoes for tho Kingsley Lousehold. lie had liven told scores of times to bend his I tenua which Hnn«>yed the federal gun- goods up by the dumbwaiter: but, like a boats in the Mindvtfppi river. true grocery boy, he did just the oppo- qfiickly discovered and | site, though it caused him a good deal of extra trouble. With an exclamation of rage Miss Kingsley flew ont into the hall jnat in time to see tho boy mounting the last step. Startled by the sudden a| j-ear- ance of his angry customer, and com pletely taken by burpru*;, “Shaw icy” stumbled and. losing his hold, tumbled down the stairs, with tho big boaket on top of him. Mr* Kingsley, grimly oUerrtng that it served him right, bounced back into Two of these liUle fellows, who had fallen mto tbo liands of the enemy, wen* treated with the dignity due prisoners of war, and consequently found themselves hundreds of tpilea sway from home and matuma and subject to all tho hearties* discipline of military prison. Tie manly fortitude of these two juvenile vrsrrioni attracted the martial soul of Colonel Morrison, who commanded tho post. To make their impmiouiuent lees ardu ous bo nuedo—theui his otiioe orderlies, and Hc-nt them on the hundreds of er» generally indifferent operuiore.but tuniol- lay wonderfully still for « German gn>- ly have a re]»utatton. reaching fr m San eery bfiy. It was dark in the ludl, other- Fraucisce to Boston, which always w* wise it might liavo lieen seen that his cures them work nt good salaries. Their 1 usually red cheeks had very suddenly characteristics are denoted by the small .| lost all their color. After a few minutes, amount of business they handle, not- ! however, during which the people ou the srithstauding the fact that they seem to | floor stoo«l by laugliing, “Shawley" man- work every minute. They make all 1 aged to get up. llegutliered iu asmaoy sorts of blunders and worry th » receiver 1 of bis i»otatoc« as be could find, though it gave him a queer pain to stoop, aud then her sitting rooms. As for “Shawley," he ’ raeda whicli a commanding officer fimia a daily necessity in the discharge of his duty. that before ha quit yo that avenin’ he promised you a big, fat row”-— “He did that,” said Mrs. O’Eourke; “aril I was surprised that be should think of lavin’ this world and forfeitin’ a p.xir wi Idy—rn u-e, by thi? token, that Widdy .Sainvan b is had the loan of uv* sauapan now foive tiiue-s for t.r> fry sin- sitgds. wbemver her corapaay has stayed to tay” Thou said the ghost, “Mrs. O'ltnnrke, I’m plazcrl to foind ye in this moind, for I’ve tome all the way front purgatory to Fedame tne piotnise, and In re’s the sow, and good luck to ye, Mrs. O'Rourke.’’ At this moment tho sow walked in tho open door. “ Where did ye got the sow, ghost of Tim Sullivan?” said Mrs. O’Rourke. Vi cannot tell ye that, Mrs. O'Rourke." , “Then I'll not take the pig. and now 1 look at her, there's a squint in her eye, and I'll have nouo of it, and I don’t loike tho looks of ye, either, ghost of Tim Sul livan.” “Ill lave the -pig wid ye, Mrs. O’Rourke, and I'ua quit of me promise. So now, farewell, and I’ll be off.” “Not so, begorrah. Take your divil of a pig and yourself wid her. I'll see you in purgatory before I tako your evil eyed pig in me house.” “Are you a woman of your word, Mrs. O’ffourke?” “I am that, Mr. Ghost." “Then come alori|F wid me, Mrs. O’Rourke,” ami, takingdier by the waist, the ghost of Tim Sullivftrt flew out of the window, b^ingHito shrieking form of. Mrs. O'Rourke with him.—Sieg in Argonaut, The First Klectrio Victim. The first death in tho world, so far as we know, from artificially conducted electricity was that of Professor Rich man, of .St. Petersburg. He devised what was practically the first lightning rod and was killed sick, ti jkudiug tipon tketr g< <»d humor aud new stories to square matters. Dude ojieratore, like their fanny breth ren, lire poor artists, but they are not fortunate in the way of acquiring “repu tation.’ They never no**! toil the re* ceivor that they love dress and think of little el.,e Their frequent «?opi» and silly chatter between messages tell it for ’hem After six months’ Working with an operator of this sort the recoiremould descrilie him almost to a positive exact ness without ever haring seen him or heard him described -TUMAUER AND TRAMPS. he tried to carry the basket up again. But ho couldn’t. HALTED BY THE BOT. So he loft it where it was, and, sfill with that queer pain which almost made him cry with every step, he slowly walked back to the store. Next day it was said that “Shawley” was sick in bed, and a week later a hearse drove up to the side door bsrk of the grocery and carried the little “cottputop" away to the Luther an cemetery. Miss Kiugploy, who is a thoroughly Tbo little fellow's were true patriota, and uo persuasion or puniahmeot could dissuade them from the cause of their (athora. It waa through them that the hero of t his story accbiapii*hcd his de sign* Tho boy* had access at all tanjea , to the colonel's office, likewise the adju tants desk. Oue night they were bidden to steal from the adjutant's desk a lot of blauk prutsports. But what good were passports to a soldier whose very uniform forbade exit from the inner stockade of tho prison, might be asked. Fortunately, however, in the prison there was a sutler who pos sessed nil tiiu venality characteristic <J his cloth. Among the prisoners in Comp Butler there were several confederate soldiers who were t he sous of wealthy parents and occasionally received money from homo. - good hearted lady, was inexpressibly j' From thw clement, a general fund fsurly. tmm>se and tramp operator*’ are- \ *hock*yi. And then came the “hant" [ Not at midnight, nor even after dark, hut iu broad daylight. Every’ grocery boy who delivered her groceries was a living image of “Shawley.” They called themselves “ErneHt” and “Yuke" and “Hinny” and “Willie,” and they all "Stm ■■LVT^aflrTv ' 'TlV"v arealKme tel egrapher? Their characters- aro well defined by rilenco, ami tbev arc- distin guished one from the o*4ier by bit* of in formation regarding other c.itie*dropped day to day by the tramps. They from tell their sfory when they com ct errore i smiled at Miss Kingsley's f-tartlod looks discovered in the addresses of messages relayed front one city to another, and by suggesting some word to tako th« place of one,badly written by some newspaper man whoso ‘H*opy” they had “handled.’ Lady operators are identified by the tightness of their sending, few of them being alb- to v.Ytrk ou long distance wires On this account “Clara” is a fn- voiite name for light senders of cither sex. and tbeir character aa well as their sex w revealed by their constant anxiety and ever faithfulness, as well as by their disposition to talk. Few people understand why telegra phers use so much and such a variety of slang Tins is easily accounted for The men iu New York and San Frauds co communicate all the latest phrases to Chicago, from which point Galveston. Denver. New Orleans and Ogden receive the “new talk.” aud the forces at Phila delphia. Pittsburg. Richmond and Bos ton acquire their stock from New York In this way a bright saying heard by an operator in'New York is repeated the world over the same day, as the cable operators are quite ns slangy as the rest of the craft. -‘-Philadelphia Record. when f«he first saw them, but the good lady knew that they were all “Shawley.” At first Martha wared pathetically earnest in trying to dissuade her mb- tress from believing in thin illusion. The doctor found Hint his patient wbs suffering from hysterical mania, caused by incessant worrying over poor “Shaw- ley’s” death. Iu this state it was not un natural that she should-imagine herself haunted by the appearance of the other grocery boys, who generally resemble one another as closely as two peas in a pod. c The doctor, like Miss Kingsley’s friends, tried to show her that she was deceived by this resemblance, but so far fie has not succeeded, and unless a change comes soon he will order his patient from the city.—New York Continent" Silk Umbrella* Common. The manufacture and consumption of i silk umbrellas is steadily on the increase j In this country.- To see a cotton um- j hrella in use in the large cities is about as rare an occurrence now as the sight of a silk umbrella was thirty years ago. The rapidly increasing wealth of the ^ country, together with the great reduc tion in the cost of silk fabrics, are the } main causes which have effected tMa change. While the majority of the silk nmbrel- < las in use are made of a texture of silk and cotton, the increase is in the con sumption not only of all silk umbrellas, but also of the very highest and finest the itn|icndiiig danger. Wheuevei* a fire grades. is discovered a rapid and prombeons due p One of the umbrella manufacturers of j charge of this firearm spreads the hews /this city says he believes that the day is f Ltfirotigh the town. This method, tboagh | far distant when a well dressed ! VVli«r» f:«rrry Man U_a Fire Alarm. .An original mode of sounding a fire alarm b adopted in a town in Colorado. In that region the .re voly»r, is considered an indispensable artkde of daily.wear. and affords the quickest means of an nouncing to tire rest of the community . / | crude, is found to work fairlv well. It ,,r“ ^ * “• ? c, “ ha., howc-ver. one drawback in Hurt the iron to the top of his houso in present lightning rod manwer and waited for a thunder storm. It came. There was a terrific flash of lightning. The pro fessor’s appliance worked wiftl, and he was found dead by the side of it—Boe- ton Transcript, 1 fire department, as well as the public, is often uueerUin whether a firo or a fight is hi progress, and whatever the truth may turn out to be somebody is sure to be disappointed.—LouiavUle Courier- Journal He Knew How to Punctuate. Quizzee—Why do you call that quack ; M. D. Dr. Period? Sborplcigh—Becaaae he has made so many Uve« come to a fnil stop.— The Dear Girls. Ethel—l am going to marry for love. Maud—Certainly, dettr; but what do ] ron expect your prospective husband to j marry tor?, You are not rich.—Museegr'e American will not be seen on tho street with a cheap, shabby or 'clumsy um brella, but will deem a tine, close roll ing, natty one as much tf personal requi site a» a good looking ^at or coaL—N* York Continoot. , Only ThcnjftiU. Saneo fin dining oar)—What are you dunking about?. Rodd—I’ve jnat been thinking that if by any process of evoltUion eue of these waiters should develop into a bird, what eterrihteUH lu>would hovel—Harper's collected nnd appropriateil to the the plotters for deli reran*.'c. With the sutler, wh«>se loyalty to the American dollar exceeded his fidelity to the Ameri can Union, it was an easy matter to smuggle in a suit of citizen's clothes now and then. A FEW GO AT A TIME. On visiting days hundreds of people from tho country around would throng to tho post to look at the fiery rebels. They wore shown, under the escort of a guard, through every part of the prison, and on several occasions these parties, in some rnaccountablo way, would number one or two more^ on coming out than they did on coming in. Each individual, however, displayed his passport to the guard at the gate, and retired unques tioned from the portals of the fort into the loyal prairies of niinoia. Had the guards counted their guest* upon their arrival and departure some startling surprises would have resulted. On cno occasion two confederate officers escaped by the guard with forged passes and hud taken seats In a carriage which waa waiting to serve visitors at the gats of the fort when Colonel Morrison fcini- self came out and, addressing them, asked if they bad soon all they wanted to see. “Yes, sir," replied one of the fugitives suavely. “Th»-y are n hard looking set, ain’t they, colonel?” At the same time ho was so alarmed that his tongue al most refused to articulate. .By thb itrocess half a hundred Con* federates were released from custody and returned to their commands iu the field. The reader must not imagine that thoee men were not missed by their guardians, for after every muster the guards were doubled and many commissioned and non-commissioned officers relieved, it be ing suspected that they were responsible for the mysterious disappearance of the prisoners. So cleverly did the plan operate under cautious restrictions that the leak through which the human content* of that noto rious pen escaped was not discovered nntil the man who created it had been duly exchanged and was fighting wader his own flag on the field* of Georgia, where he was known to the array mColo nel Morrison’s adjutant—Nashville Ajd- ericaa. » * — ... — .y Still Unlmj Slasher—l hear that Jawkins has token a wife from the wa htab, Rubber—That is sot a yet-Roa'i Hort, „ , "Sr -V