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• \ 'T .-nf fl wt lit Lsoal, Morcaotlk: Mid mla- *—:—c«i]*n«ou»~:— Uob PriDting Kxeeuted prompt'j and tu thi b<wt aty ten on the I’aorLfi 1’remi m Vol. XVI. UNWELL COURT HOUSE, S. C M DECEMBER 8, 1802. V Alliance Department, The cattle dells. -^-4 Adopted u the County Organ by the Coun ty Alliance July 3th, l»*t. M. J. FATE, Associatr Epito*, To whom all Communications on Alliance Matters should be addi'essed. Far down the brown autumnal ha High on the peak Is snow— Cattle that smell the winter days Tinkle their bells as they ro. i Oflieers of the Coont j Alilaacs. W. II. Duncan, PresidenL L. B. Tool^ Vice President W. 8. Bamberg, fitocrotary. A. P. Ftoft, Treasurer. W. O Britton, Chaplain. T. 8. Weeks, County Lecturer. ? W. A. All, Steward or Assistant Lecturer. W. E. Sadler, Door Keeper. Jl. K. Harley, Assistant Door Keeper. D W. BodiIord, Serjjeant-at Arms. F. II. Crccch, Business Agent . Executive Committee—(J. B. Free, W. W. Patrick, W. A. Faust. Trade Committee—0. M. Hunter, E. H. Dowling, J. M. Ulmer, W. A. All. Committee on Good of the Order—J. C. Mo- Alillan, C. M. Edenfleld, W. T. Cave, J. K BncUiug, E. B. Guess. Oat of a thick veil drawn to fuvre The sky's face from the blast. Those tiny helkn as fairies ware J Their waddj,evoke the past. memory insane he So nnec lust she i That music once before I heard. But then the notes were glad. Caroling like a careless bird; • v Ah, why now is It sad? Upon this brow now crowned by care My love a gariund laid; We heard the bells, now here, now Uiere; Dead are the leaves and maid. Mayhap for happier maid and man The tender music hwelfle. And I will smile while yet I can List to the cattle bells. —Willis Steell tn Uarper's Weekly. A PEDDLER'S PERIL. The JOuipUb Xi'ct Following l* a copy of tfic olllclal re- |>ort, as approved by the cpnventlon : , Alliance Cotton Co-Opeiativc Hoard—i ] > lan of Organization; This board sliuH consist of mem- ; ber from each of tho cotton States co- , operating In the work. The delegated comprising this meet ing may elect*the tlr>t board, which* when ratified by the president and ex ecutive committee of the State Allian ces, shall hold that ollice till January 1,1804. JTlie regulat term of ofllce for the tqembara of this board shall be for one year-rauil shall commence on the Istday of June of bach year. The board may divide the work and employ suitable managers for each department. Two distinct lines of " liecotton pro<lueers are to be or ganized into three divisions: (a) those Who raise less than 4D bales; 4b) those W ho raise 40 bales and less than 100 hales; (c) those who produce more titan 100 hales. Those who would he in the sei Ond or third division may be secured from the A lliauco county secretaries, and they may bs called by mall to a point at which a full representative meeting can be secured, that they may organize themselves. The first class May be organized through the sub-Al- ) lance. 2. The co-operation of capital is to be secureifby the election of a combina tion of one from each cotton State* and when there U a tm*fnc*g agent; If it i* practicable be/«Koiild be the represent- •ative, and tht* combination of one from each State 40*11 elect an executive com- Aunt Vindy's prompt appearance had prevented [a pr»bable murder, tfncle i Mose, tLorrgh it good man enough when in his rightTmind, was a dangerous, un certain personage when stirred by the his sou into a spirit of half ility against all the world, y did Nan become that at , slipped on her dress and -stoHl out into the moonlight. An im pulse she could not control impelled her to peep in at the peddler*s open window. She was prompted by an indefinable fear. What she saw there caused her to start bock, clasp her bauds and gasp for breath. Then, trembling in every limb, she looked again. ‘*AIy *God!” she faltered. “Autf I dreamin? Surely it, can’t be—’ml yet I must believe my own eyes.” T - Acting under a new impulse she turned and tied along the trail leading to the still. Arrived there she found the pldce silent and deserted. There was no fire the furnace and nothing to be heard ALAS! Alas, aias.cbeul* That the sky U only biuo To eatbef from tbo grass The rain and dew. *0- A las, that eyes arc fair; That tears may iratbcr tbers— Mist and the breadth ol sigh* sb ol care. From the marsh < Alas, alas, ebon! That we meeC but to hid adieu; '• Are so swift and few. S et the sands in Time's ancient class a iAlas, alas, ebeul hi ['bat the heart is only trne To (rather, where false feot pAOT, The thorn and rue. . - Excbauya. MINA. m The sun sank behind the western monntain peaks, and the short twilight of southern latitudes cam 9 on apace. After a tirad the man of the house came in. Ho was tall and thin. Two ferret- like eyes gleamed shandy upon the ped dler from amid a shaggy tangle of white hair and beard. Ho placed his long rifle in a rack over the door, unslung his shot pouch and then seated himself and gazed gloomily into the fire, without vouchsafing either a greeting to the stranger or a word to his own family. Nan, passing by, whis pered to the peddler: cries of the whippoorwills upon antain side. ^ * i but the ! the mountni; Full of painful forebodings she re- ■ traced her stei>a and once more cronched beneath the peddler's window. There ; she waited until her limbs bocama 1 cramped and the night air chilled her to j the bone. “1 might ns well lie down again,” she ' thonglit. “I reckon uncle’s gone down ! the valley, for he ’lowed todhy as he’d haye to go after coffee right away. 1 | could wake the man up, but somehow 1 dassu’t. He might think I was forward.' Hut a second trial of the bed Nvus no better than the first. The peddler’s Charles Harcourt was one of the most intrepid habitues of the Chatteau Rouge and La Grande Chamniere; in fact of all those choreographic establishments which the Parisian grisette visits regu larly in order to lose her heart—and not infrequently her rosy cheeks and the freshness of her youth. Harcourt pretended to study medicine, and it was among these pretty girls— sellers of flowers, embroiderers of linen, and painters’ models—that he managed to forget the terrors of the hospital nnd the scenes (A* the surgical amphitheater. Charles Harcourt had just arrivod at the^ime of life when a soft down shows the lip, when love knocks at the “He is thinking of Mina,” said Mari etta. bitterly; I “When a mistress is buried, that ought . to end tiro affair,” said Rose, decidedly. “But often, oven when. I am hero, I find him sitting before that plaster cast,” said Marietta, sullenly. “Oh, it’s perfectiy platonic,” laughed Ernest. “Bahr said Rose; “yon don’t object to a plaster rival, do you?” - “To the health of Mina,” cried Ernest. Charles looked up quickly. - These jibes cut him to the heart. “Mina was a good girl;” ire said. “That remains to be seen,” cried Mari- ette; “1 am k good girl, too, am I not?” “You will, be wben you are dead,” mocked Ernest. “Charles,” said Marietto, “confess that yon love Mina still!” “No; 1 do not!” “Moro than you love mo?” “No, no! 1 love you.” “Very well, then prove it. There is that horrid skull that you keep as a sacred relic. I’ve seen it griuuing nj there long enough. Lot us make the punch in it!” “Ah, that’s an original idea!” cried Ernest. “Mariette, you have the imag ination of a poeL” “So be it then,” said Charles, and COLERIDGE. I see tV jo pine like her Injgtihb-n etory Who, In ber i»rlson, wuko and naw uue day The Rates thrown open-saw the sunbeams p'ay. With only a web 'tween -her and summer's Blory; ^ Who, when that web- so frail, eo transitory. It bfokcjHJfore her breath—bad fallen away; Saw other webs and others rtso for aye Which kept her prisoned;till ber Hair wss hoary. f ' T v. *ifci Those eongs half sunc that yet were all di vine— That woke Romanco, the queen, to relRD afrvah— Had been but prelude* from that lyre of thine. Coo’d thy'raro spirit’s wiuRs have pierced * the u;ctih Spun by the wizard who compels tbo flesh. But lets the poet see bow heav'n can sblue. —Theodore Watts in Lmdon Atheuumm. A SACRIFICE. on ^ heavy breathing was ever in her cars, Don’t'ye mind uncle; he’s got one of ! J ier thoughts reverfed constantly to 1-1 v * ii .tn’r the w yse of peril that vaguely, yet per- his bad spell* on now, but u no alnt , 7 * „ . , , it * | sistentlv kept her unou the teuteraooks bothered it’ll pass off by and by.” | of onxi p ty 1 1 “I wish mornlft would come,” she mltteg. These t s be kept en 1 branches of work are tc* ely separate. ,the object h - lug to enable a joint line of work, the a^rond and third division to help them- •elves, and by the second line of work to assist and help the first division by advancing 011 their cropa and emanci pating them from practical industrial slavery. We anggett that circulars from State Alliance* in the cotton States, Inviting all fanners and planters interested in the production of cotton, to meet differ ent local Alliances in open session in nsl^hborhoods where Alliances are now eetabliidted, for consultation, as to the busitiess of producing, handling and making their products at a profit. Where no Alliance ex^ts in neiirkluu:- fdanter* not The peddler nodded, and began a tale concerning one of his adventures in Texas. He'Was soon interrupted by ***** “Sit up, stranger,” said she. •“Wo haiu’t got much to eat, but such as it is you’re welcome.” The old man ate his supper in solemn silence, after which he took his hat nnd abruptly left tho cabin. Aunt Viuey saw fit to explain. “Mose, my old man, hain’t l**en ex actly like hisself sinc e the revenoo men carried his eon John off five year ago last April.” “ ’Slillin I s’pose?*’ “Yes, ’nd top of thftt he shot one of ’em While they were tryin to take him, ’nd they put him in yft-n'toush’ry at Nashville for ten year.” * , The peddler remained sih nt for a mo ment or two. But when the dinhes were washed and pnt away he again enter tained the two women by relating sun dry reminiscences of his own career, and also describing the wonders of certain great cities he had visited. After awhile Mose again stalked si lently in and took a seat in a far comer. While the peddler talked he continued to eye him cleeely, as if suspicious that the stranger was not just what he should be. “Speakin of the telephone,” continued the peddler, “some folks in these moun tains don't believe that people can talk to each other, ’ud them a hundred or more miles apart, but I tell ye it’s a fact. Tve seed it done myself.” “I’ve knowed of men hollerin across from one mountain to another," said Aunt Viney dubiously. “Mebbe they could make-themselves heard a matter of two miles, mit a hundred’’— she shook her head disapprovingIjr. “It’s so all the same, though. I’v sot *nd heard ’em Udkin jus* as we bo now.” “That’s as Idg a lie as ever was told,” exclaimed old Mose, rising and making fpr Ihadoor^ said for the hundredth time. “Lordr what a-meeUttg there^H be Staff *■' The sound of a stealthy footfall npon the gravdl without brought her to a sit ting position at once. Hejr heart beat londly as she listened breathlessly. Yes, it was moving around the house. Now she heard it no more. Could‘she have imagined it all? No; there it was again —in the l*ack porch. Then—then—she heard a gentle creak ing sound. Ahl Tho shedroora do*»rl She sprang out of bed, and. a hasty bound brought her to the door leading into the l«ck porch. She wrenched it open just in time to catch a glimpse of a tall shadow that disappeared within the shed room. “Good Lord, help me!” site faintly breast, and when the heart resembles a lusty tree, full of vigor, from which has fallen as yet neither leaf nor fruit. Tho troml>oues of the orchestra roar, like thunder ou a stormy sea; the vio lins scream like sea gulls above the waves; tho music rolls and growls like some hungry beast. All is confusion. White shoulders and gold lace gleam through the heavy air. The iunoceut * and the'gfittly'dance together in the same delirious motion. While the dancers tarn and whirl, , advancing wildly aud as wildly retreat ing, far in a corner sita a slender girl j watching the dance with an air of sad ness. Her mournful eyes follow the crazy motions of the crowd with astoii-, ishment, and a light sigh moves the folds of mull on her breast. In the midst of this indescribable confusion, this pelhnell of figures and voices, api>oars that of a handsome boy of twenty-two, remarkable lot' his vivac ity and the boldness of his speech and gesture. Finally, when the violins have 1 ended their agonizing cries and the lamps are dying before the oncoming Like Rasselns, the Al>yttfinian, wo t lived the balmy*days “only to know tho j soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose.” j We wandered “in gardens of fragrance and slept in fortresses of security,”,but like all pleasure seekers* we wore now | weary of the monotonous round of un eventful days, ami former delights grew stale. Gentle Mrs. Gray and Miss Har- 1 » 1 *1. .... 1 land, the invalid whoee thin, scarlet of tto taWe iu the middle; chMk< lnd told ,00 pUiidy the presence of the destroyer, the quiet i rector and the somewhat pompous major, with his little bloud wife, made up oar party. “Some one tell a story, please,” cooed the pretty blond, tossing aside “Hero dcdlj ami m^dlic axbalad fmm ,l w | skull. Fliosphoresqeut flames rose and i w ri - r; , ““ i “I,” promptly answered Mrs. Gray. ,L"! t "r. r . 0 S 0t d r? y ; “H I •' n °* dolightfol! Do tell tu .boat •moke rose in purple spirals into tbs air. I CtiArlo. felt . Mhiver clutch'Ibrn in H. “^“.T^rol^ tlmtor, “I am the one to light it,” said Mari ette triumphantly, pouring the liquoi into this ghastly cup. Suddenly the punch was afire, the tongues of bine flame mixing amorously with the smoke of the cigars. An odor Unk Albert,’ callei my going to his tide, ‘would Jfbrt away to save J*ke from going? “ ‘Yes; honey*’ ho replied, his ful eyes lighting up with a pleasant presuion, as with his groat black be stroked her sun^y curls, hdiiky, Unk Albut ain’t got Stay here for; Jokd got 1 .. , 4i __ Honey, ax yer muddsr t* leli (dd Allmt go.* “ ‘Use your own pleasure, Albert,* at lost consented my mother. “ ‘De Lawd btess mistis!' he cried ad be hastened to the quarters. “ *Do Lawd sabe mistisf echoed Uncle Gabe, waving his hat as he leaned on his crutch; “They left us that afternoon, 10d tall, strong sons of Ham, of varyiaif ages, from twenty to forty-five yean. “ 'Albert,’ said my mother, ‘I must tell you before yod go that in Shrove- {M>rt men die at the rate of fifty a day. Often the death rate is greater. Thd fever Is terrible.’ 4 “She looked np into bis face, hoping by tills last appeal to discourage his going. “‘Kain’ he’p it, mistis; I spec* hit*# ’bout es nigh a route to hebbin by Shrcbopote as hit air by dis plsntsshin. Allmt ain't keerin, mistis, kaze da big white gates up yahder’s wide open waitin fer Albut; an, Lawd, Rachel’s sr standin jes’ inside.’ “‘Boyar” he erted, turning to thd multitude assembled under the oaks 0* the lawn. ‘Boyi. inind mistis an do tight an bs bidderueT\ Be hoMS*, boya. Don't go to enttiu np no disregyartlabie capers and pranks. Jee’ whirl in aa up an make de crap fife mistis. Nebber mine do cotton, bnt ten de cawn. PWw deep, boys, an don’t let de grass git da upper hand o* de crap.' “ *Mpve on there! Move on, boya,* ejocnlateil os shospr.nitgforwar*!, nerved * daylight, this boy, whom-his friends to desperation by this dreadful fulfill ment of her fears. She'entered the room. There lay fhe peddler, slumbering heavily in the white glow of the moonlight. His face was strangely altered, for the heavy board had fallen off. leaving exposed a Cleon shaven, youthful face. But the white bearded old man bending over the pros trate form with uplifted knife saw noth ing distinctly. To hia morbid imagin ings only the form of a hated spy lay helpless before him. A spy in the serv ice of the detested “revenoos,” who had robbed him of his only and well beloved son. “Uncle!” screamed Nnn, dragging him back. “Uncle! ‘ You shall not. Can’t you see? It’s John—our John— your John!” I The I'edtllcr woko and stared upward 1 in a l>ewildered way. The kuife fell to the floor as Mose, his eyes almost start ing from his head, stared at his son’s white face. Suddenly he comprehended, and the effect deecended upon him like a J thunderbolt. py rnr llA lute as Harcourt, leaves tho ball, a now conquest upon his arm—it is the slender brunette of the comer. Charles Harcourt appeared no more at the balls of the Latin quarter, bnt spent his days at L'Ecole de Medicine, passing his first examinations with dis tinction. In one of those fascinating little bonces—such are Boranger pre- a secured vengeance. The min fell heavily outside, tho windows shook. Littlo by little drunkenness overcame these rilwlJ beings who jested with the sacred mysteries of death. Then Mariette began to sing a song couq>osqd by Charles f<»r Mina, mockingly begging him not to weep. ’ . ^ As Clmties heard tho words of the song chanted in her pitiless voice, his heart beat fast, something rose in his throat, his voice failed and his head fell heavily forward npon the table. His sndden movement overturned the skull, and the Immiug brandy touched the thin folds ef Marietto’s dress. Her awfnl cry of terror was lost in the flames which enveloped her. Charlee remained in a delirious con dition. cold fingc r8 from head to foot. Mariette mv the of ebon hue—a strong young Hercules, who, tbongh rough and dhtatight, pos sessed a grand nature.” “Ye*,” assented the sentimental ma jor. “Often among the hntnblest flow ers we find the rarest odors.” '“And,” resumed Mrs. Gray, “among tho busy workers, with hardened hands •nd toil stained faces, we find great hearts. During tho late war,” she con tinued, “my father and brotitcr were in the army, and theoverseer being drafted into senriee my mother, my sister and myself were compelled to leave Otri beautiful home in the city and go up the river to the plantation to manage as best we could the affairs of that place. “Onr people were trustworthy and ! kind, so we had but little trouble. ▲ in 1 ,0W ”*•**" <mr * rriT * 1 ** Uw l,1 “ tends to bave inhabited at twenty— end of all tbeir happiness approaching; eyes npon the musk of plaster, whoee eyes remained flxwl upon his with a steady pcrriKtence that held his own. He E**t?nn to repeat the words of his w-v* 3 hnm.v < wRi? l Hni 0 ^^i i ^ 1 suddenly, of heart trouble, the phy was happy with him, and finally those : ■■tii a , M i her nt tin <-htl imn wnn that she had uttered when she felt tho ! ^ ^ ™ Uttto thliarBn w ® ri tation our hearts were saddened by the death of a much loved aorvant. Rachel was her name. She hdQ nursed my mother’s older children, and we were all very much attached to hoT. Rachel Hn p-’ij.rd hi* rifle lOTfic her Charles made his home, guarding jeal ously the dangerous happiness of a j union contracted without tho help of j le maire and which is called morganatic to avoid the use of a less delicate phrase. | His conquest of the ball was named I Mina. She was a good and affectionate ! child, and in spite of the anacreontic | quadrilles or the Latin quarter, she was ' innocent. She had kept her heart in- j tact. It was her sole economy. Charles and Mina kivod one v uaothor like two of La Fontaine's doves. But Mina was a consumptive, and Charles read with af fright the death cf his happiness in the paling face of his beloved. — 1 Hi« care of her was untiring; but tW. -l;»lJi T i.hl | r- cared for by a good old granny, tbo husband of Rachel, was Albert, a field- •■I Iota ,-on .o dearly, toy Wlovod oi>e. | hM1 ,, ud , wlubu I cannot give yon np. I shall come back *««*»«*• sometimes at night td speak to you.” Feverish snd trembling he drank trreed- i . , , , . . lly th« lust glass of rom h at hi. .VwJ ^I-rt.ucnt w^ undor Suddenly tho cast detached Itself fc-ll th lP OB ? d * r *!* 0 ^™! “Of what imo do you speak?” “Tills was in the spring of 1864. The K>ea * VMimeittlJ WffWrfEfij'^nfTan ce, to hold similar meetings, elect their oflieers and furnish the required information to the national cotton combination on precise ly tiie same footing as if connected with the order. ■ttWlliPRlg "glaitce at IBapcddlwr and Circulaf forms of questions on which full iiitor-niatiou shall be desired, to be prepared in a form that cannot be mis understood, embracing every point as near its possible, such as follows: En rollment of name of rauh landed pro ducer; number of acres of each in cuN tivalion of colUsn, corn, peas and hay; number of mules, number of hands em ployed and eap.tal available to run the farm for next year; can increased cap ital be secured locally? If so, at what t'ost, and all other items the board may conceive of the slightest importance as Information, so as to actually determine the needs of the cotton producers. 3 “Oh, you may curse the life And the manners and tho simplicity and gen eral ignorance of the country boy,” said John T. Scott, a wealthy New Yorke'jr at the Lindcil yesterday,’’ but I had rathef have one good, honest country boy to train in my business^than your city youth with all of his brightness and acuteness every day in the year. It Is the rarest thing in the world that you hear of a city boy doing anythlng very big for himself or (or hi* country. It h the country boy raised on the farm wlro has waded through all the trials of life that save* the city. They somehow come In just at the right tfmo—the time when a fresh supply of health and moral invlgoratiou is needed. The clay hills of Georgig gave us Grady aiul the farms of 'Nefv Hampshire and of Vir ginia gave us Webster and Clay. From the cabi ns of a forest region we havs had our Lincoln, our Grant and our Qar- firld r and from every walk iir country life we hare had our intellectual gtante and our best men. Glre ms the farm- ar*s son ersry Uma.”—flu Louis Re- publlcaw. ^ chat , you once moro left the cabin. “Old man's, a little touched in the head, ain’t he?” asked the peddler, who seemed to take no offense whatever at the old man's rude behavior. “Ever since John was took off he's had queer spells that come over him every now and then. I must say he’s inore'n apt to be VpisUvs of strangers when they come around. He's always thiukin of j revenoo spies. I dessay that’s win makes him act so toward you. Bnt musn’t mind him. I never know’d him to succeed in hnrtin any one yet.” It was Nan who replied, for Aunt Vi ney was making preparations retire for .the ajighte When the girl and the ’ peddler were left alone the latter seemed i somewhat curious about this son John, ' who for so many years had been unde: the ban of the law. “John was always goofi to Uncle Most and Aunt Viney, ’nd that’s one reasoi Uncle Mose takes it all so hard now.” “I s’pose, bcin as ypu’re kin to ’em, yon must ’a’ felt powerful bad when they took him off?” He eyed Nan closely as he spoke, and the girl blushed slightly. “I ain’t no real kiu to ’em,” said she. “My folks is all dead, *iul they raised file from a little gal, bnt John ’ud mu was always good friends.” “Nothin more?’ The girl looked at him reprovingly. “It’s about bedtime,” said she coldly. “Shan’t I show you were ybu’ro to sleep?” The peddler rose, t^ok up his pack and followed her into the* little shed room. There was an open window by the bed, through which the full moon was shin- fag. * ‘ »» “You won't need no light, I reckon,” she remarked. Then, bidding him good night, she returned to the maiu cabin and went to bed herself. But for some reason she failed to sleep. The bright moonlight, the rasp ing cry of katydids from the trees with out and the discomforting nature of her thoughts kept her awake, -tihe felt vaguely uneasy about Uncle Moee. Where was he? -Very likely at the little moonshine still up Bear hollow, half a mile away. He often spent the night there engaged in his illicit toil She re- f«Ahforwardi airflUohTi's eyfS^me' iu a mutually recognizing glance; then I they turned their attention to the old ■ man. As they laid him upon tho bed ; Aunt Viney, awakened by the noise, I came in. She fell as though confronted , by a ghost. “Johh!” she exclaimed. “Yet it can’t shorely be!” “Yes, it is, mother. I didn’t know how you’d all take my bcin so long iu the pen, so when tho goromor pardoned me out I ’lowed I’d come hpmc as a ped dler ’nd iu disguise tilL I found out if you all cared for me any more.” While John was speaking Mose opened his eyes, and tears blinded them os he ga?ed. H "“My son, my son!” he murumred brokenly. “And I might have killed him! My mind’s made up. There’ll bo nb more ’slillin done in Boar holler after this.” “Do you reckon Nan cares for me any more, father?” asked John, while his eyes sought tbope of Nan. “Of course she do. Hasn’t she been grievin herself away ever since you was took. She never looked at another mau.” Nan’s confusion seemed to sanction this. “There’s only otie thing to” be done,” interrupted -Aunt —Viney- decisively. They’ve just got to go over to the circuit rider’s next Sunday ’ud git married. Af ter that’s orver ’nd done with, Mose, I do hope you’ll behave yourself in futnr’.” “Hain’t I said I weren’t a-goin to ’still whisky-fuiy more?” said Mose. “ ’Stilliu’s been at the bottom of all onr troubles.” While the old folks talked John took Nan’s hand in his, and they steathily kissed each other.—William Perry Brown in Pbilatjelphia Times. ke" received fils hi is- ^ips «pon hi* forehead—lips as hard and Children nnd Young Animal*. The playfulness that is characteristic if children is ho less so of kittens, nor is their imitativeness mors typical than that from which the Word “to ape" has been derived. Curiosity, inventiveness, dislike of ridicule, love of being fondled, craving for attention, with the resulting jealousy and anger when inch attention is refused, are types of more complex emotions common to intelligent animal* and children. Indeed tbs term* of fa miliarity trews last righ. Mina died, in the hot* pitaljjher long illness having exhausted thcTPwehle resource**, and Charles had the cruel courage to deliver the body of his beloved to the investigations of the pathologist. He wished to pursue, even in the flesh, this rival who had killed her. He made use of a cynical usage to preserve the skull. This, with a plaster mask molded npon tho emaciated body of tho dead girl, was all that remained to him. . * * ' Mina’s loss affected Charles profound ly. Out of a character frivolous and careless, devoted only to coarse pleas ures, had grown u deep nnd serious love. This honest and generous affection hod stifled tho germs of evil. Mina dead, be was seized as by a vertigb, and he plunged into the abyss. Ho found him self face to face with evil, and threw to this monster tlik rest of his youth. In this ocean of false pleasures the Re membrance of Mina was drowned, and a petulant little grisette called Mariette took her place. One night in November Mariette and one of her friends, Charles, and one of his companions were together in a little honse on the Rue Gres. The night was cold and sinister; masses of heavy clouds were driven across a gray sky, the moon showolher jnonuful face only at intervals, sudden showers beat upon the windows, and the wind howled at the cracks. These four young people drank and sang, unaffocted by the storm and their strange environment. It w*as the strange medley of tho student’s life that showed in the small room—here signs of work, and there the broken bottles of a drink ing bout. A small table held a dried tibia, a pile of medical works, some empty wine bottles and some articles of the toilet There, too, was the plaster cast of the dead Mina, a figure slender to meagerness, the eyes cavernous 4nd empty, the lips distorted intna painful smile, the plaster discolored by the kisses placed upon those lips in eternal fare- wall. Upon the chimney were a candle, a small clock and a human skull. At one side a tiny conch, on the walls racks for pipes and some cheap Rthographa. Mariette and ber frimd Rose lounged about fa untidy dishabille. Earnest made a pretense of study, while Char tee dulled by the warm and heavy air of oe the knag LaU* in Suddenly tho cast-detached itielf from the wall and came forward through tho clouds of smoke. He felt the sweat •tart from every i*>re. A sigh fell npon the air; ho felt it pass his check, moist and terrible; a breath from the tomb. A cry struggled to his lips, but died there. HU voice choked in his throat. The figure approached, and the student recognized the beloved of his youth. Silent tears were flowing from the ho}lovvLflLckBU 4d the and is time cold os marble. Then tho phantom raised her hand, pointing with her skeleton finger to the clock, which was at the stroke of 8. As Charles felt his heart fail iu his breast and his veins turn to ice the vision faded. Day was jnsi beginning; the first rays of a bright sun lit up the windows of the little room in the Rue Gres. Charles awoke from a profound sleep. He looked about sleepily npon the confusion which surrounded him and endeavored to recall the events of the past night. “These glasses and empty bottles; that natural,” he muttered, “and I have slept hero on the table, but—what is it?” He walked dizzily to the chimney The hands w*ero at tho hour of 8, and the clock had stopped. He remem bered tho frightful vision of the night and the accident to Mariette, and he hurried to tho adjoining room. “Mariette, Mariette!” period. No body answered. CharleiPopened the door violently. Ernest and Itpse were npon their knees beside the bed. “Mariette!” cried Charles. “She is dead,” replied Ernest. “Dead?’ * “Yes, at 3 o’clock.” “Mina is avenged!” said Charles sink ing, npon hU knees.—Adapted for Ar^' gonaut from the French of Frederic do Reiffenborg. E. Kirby Smith. The struggle oast of the Mississippi river had drawn from us tho chivalry of the great southwest; the sons of Arkansas, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas were scattered from Gettys burg to Vicksburg, and a diminished force composed of the fathers and hus bands was left to meet the gathering foe that threatened, with General Steele at Little Rock, and General Banks at A fax- jearded grain,' and nothing was left ‘Goodby, mistis. Far’wsQ, chili—f cried Albert. ‘Gawd braes mistisl* “ ‘Gawd brass miotur cried a i of a hundred voices as they away. “In those turbulent those there no established mail routes in try; indeed the receipt of a quite aa event For two heard nothing of our men away from Khri*v**port and more dead than alive. Of the who had gone from our plantation ti ty-two had died. Albert had tailed on hospital duty, and otb»r mtroth had passed he. too, had given op the burden of life. Good, faithful Albert! Though be lives in aong nor story, his was i heroism ss was ever recorded; waited just within ‘the big, wk and waited aot in vain.” Mrs. Graf had “tears in ber voice” as sha 6am* eluded her pathetic story, “We brush the skirts of martyrs and ttead the path with heroes, and are all unmindful; but God noteth all, and will reward aa surely as the daf the dark bight,” reverently spoke white haired rector ea we sat silea* tkyughtfuL “And it’s just as near heaven by of Bilvandale as home..” nmnnored the invalid, folding let fight wfap about her.—Mr*. C. C. Scutt in mance. PrtMltlve Ji I beard Bill Stone plead his first < It was « good many years aro—more than twenty anyway. I do not rem— ber the name of the judge, but a notori* ou* horse thief was np for trial — a Charge of Stealing cattle. As be had — counsel the court appointed Bill 4o defend the case: Stone took bis; er to STtindow and talked to him for announced tW be was ready for trial. “We plead guilty* over of a -v * - - / When the Prince Called on Teanjreon. There is one story that will be historic of a call which the Prince of Wales once made upon Tennyson. He had a new page boy, who knew not the prince, and who had been warned against admitting strangers to the bouse on any pretext. One day the prince walked over from Osborne to see the poet He gained the entrance, which was of itself no easy task, and knocked at the door. “Mas ter’s not in,” he was told. The prince detecting that this was a promiscuous answer, which it was the page boy’s in structions to give to all comers, said, “Will you kindly tell him the Prince of Wales wishes to sec him?’ The boy eyed the visitor with an Irri tatingly knowing look, and replied “Walker!” which was equivalent to say- fag, “Do you see anything green in my eye?* This rude remark amused tbs prince very much, but the boy would certainly have slammed tbs door in Us face if Tennyson himself, who had been the cou venal km, hod not —4 wslniwnad the I»e«r but ‘tjie Cowers that grew between’—the boys too young to go. “Then a new ardor came, and the men slave* wore impressed and sent to the shops as laborers and teamsters in tho various departments, to till such places as they could, in order that for every slave so employed a soldier could be relieved and go to the front The burden of feeding and clothing the army devolved upou the women of the south.- Chserfully and with untold sacrifices, . did they do their part. Our people did not escape the impressment law.” “Excuse me, but whom do yon mean by ‘our people?” chirped the beauty from the hammock. We callm our slaves ‘our people,’ ” responded Mrs. Gray with a smile, “They were impressed into service and sent to Shreveport, La., to work. Among tho mon was one who had been married only a year; ho objected to leaving Ids wife and baby. Jake was his name. While they were discussing the ques tion among themselves, Albert prosented himself at tho dining room “ ‘Good mawnin, mistis,’ ho said, fing his hat, ‘an skuse me fo’ 'sturbin ycr brekfus, but I’ze axin a favor dis mawnin.’ “ ‘All right, Albert. What is it? asked iny mother. “‘Yer see, mistis, as how Jake is ’pressed along wid ladder niggers an Jake he got a likely wife an mighty antic boy.’ “ ‘Well? “Albert hesitated and scratched his woolly pate. ••<$# “'I know,’ my mother said sympa thetically, ‘I know all the circum stances, but am powerless.' . ^ “ 'I ain't blamin yer, mistis; de Lawd knows I ain't er blamin nobody, but I’d ruther go iu Jake's place aa let him stay wid hoes wife an boy.* “ ‘Why, Albertf exclaimed my moth er. 'You can't mean it! How should I i get along without you? Think of the nnmber of women and children to bo provided for; the men left behind are too old^nd the boys too young to be de- [ pended ud.’ < j “ ‘i's* recotnmembrin all dat, mistis,' bnt I knows what it is for a man an wife ■ to bs sipperated. Ok, mistis, de day* all lonesome and de nights a year long. Tain* no oa—kfae for AJbut ImT her 4 nowhar Hit's all a dark shadder ad de moonshine don't nigh tech AJhaL No, ■Metis, fat's aU trials ah tribUeiashfas. j Lumms go, yisaes, ■fimi Let * " wid hese wife, half cfaehad t / setea W --am •- your honor, to the charge wgainst us,” annoniMfed the young lawyer. The court wasted no time in giving a verdict,' for horse stealing was a heinous offense fa those days in this pert of the country, and condemned the man to fifteen yean in the penitentiary. “But, judge, we plead guilty!” yelled, Stone, expressions of amusement and disappointment alternating on his face. •Fifteen years,” repeated tho judge. “But, judge, we plead*- guilty?" re peated Bill fttone, raising his long arms like windmills. But the judge was oh-' durate. “If that is the case,” said Stone* Hke will argue the case,” and ho forthwith Started iu ut»on the defense. For thirty minutes he argued and pleaded with that .eloquence that is characteristic of him, and at tho end of Jiia harangue he sat down and watched the effect of hiif words. Tho judge smiled and mode tho 1 sentence five years. Bill Stone liad wusr his first case.—Kansas City Times. * rnnchtBff Steel oad Iron. According to a paper read before the' Engineers’ club, of Philadelphia, on the limit of thickness to steel which punched, tho statement is made that the LljickCr the steel the greater Ufa* damage caused by such an operation.* Recent tests made to determine this' matter are declared to indicate that' punching injures steel less than iron np i of On to, say, three-quarters of an inch thickness, at which point the two terials ore about eqnal in this i and beyond this point tbo value of steel after punching decreases quite rapidly aa the thickness increases; in iron Ufa percentage seems to bo much more cou-' (taut. The character of the fracture after punching is also fonnd to be materially affected by the thickness of the mate-' rial. In view of these circumstances, Ik * is proposed to limit to one-half inch tho' Uickness of tho metal subjected to. punching, excepting in the cases of girders of muro.tfaui fifty feet in Urogtkr wboD it may be^uine-sixternths uf oa inch; in tup cords and end pasta, ftvo* eighths of an iacl^ and la tabs and bod an inch.—New York Boa.