The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, August 02, 1883, Image 1
1 BnaincM Ictlen and ,
Umm to bo pnbliabed ahoold _
for publication ihould bo
wHtt« faocfoM.l^iblo hand^aados
•nly one aida of the pap..
4, All diaagaa hi alrertiaementa moat
e«eh« on Friadr.
M. J. N. E. MIUHXIS,
DENTAL SXJRQEQN,
BLAOEVILLE, S. U
Officeaear hi* naidence on R.R. Avenue.
Bitiaata will find it more comfortable te
■are their work done at the offlce.aa he baa
• good Dental Chair, good Jirht and the
moet improved anpliancee. He ahould be
info nurd •everal or ye previore to their oon>.
ing to prevent aiv (•ieap.toinljient—tboncb
will generally be found at hie office on Sat-
wrdaya. o-
He w«il still contjaua to attend call*
ihrenglent Barnwell and adjoining conn-
[auglS ly
DR. I. J. QI'ATTLEiAUM,
aURCEON DENTIST,
WILLTSTON, 8. C.
Offl?a over Cipt. W. H. Kssnsdp’s atorr
CaIN attended throurhont B*rnwe)I
and adjacent countie*. P /.ienta will
find it to tneir advantage tohatrworl
done at hia nffic* j
DH. J. RYEP.S0N SMITH,
OwriUvf anil Mrfhanifal Dcntitt,
WItL l8 T ON, 3. C.
Will attend ca']« thioughout tbia and ad
Jacentconn-'**. ~ T
Operation', frn V>e moie ►sl'n'i'lorlly ner»
formed at i>.s Tr Td.s, \.] ! o’i sie enpplied
with all the la. '-<■1»’»,» oved r^pliances, than
at the roaidancea o< jl >.
Tep.eveot di r >ml i. penle, ratienta iu>
tend'ng to visit b’ai ft WlllMoa aie re
quested io co.ceepoud by nieil before leav
tug home. f atill?
.•*«**«
f238 King Streets
Opposite Academy of MuslCy
CHARLESTON, 8. C.
Rooms to let at fO ccut* a night. Meal*
all hooi—Oyitsrs in every slvle.
Aleju Wine/, Llq.-o.*-, Heea.e, Ac.[mar301y
CHARI/E 3 O. LESLIE
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
Fiali. Gum. loltstirs, Tnrtlw, Tempins,
Oysters; Etc. Eic.
yta'la, Now 1« and 20 Fi*h MarVet
CHARLESTON, 8. 0.
All orders prompjy attended to.
Terras Cash or City Acceptance.
gSOly]
J. A. PATTERSON.
Surgeon Dentist. -
Office at the Barnwell Court Honar,
Vattenta wailed on *t residence if de-
eired. Will attend rail* in any portion
of Barnwell and Hampton counties.
Satisfaction guaranteed. Term* cash.
augSllyJ
ROBT r -D. WHITE
marble
“< —AND—
- CHARLES A ON,
junrdly]
QRAMITE WORKS
/ KEETING SPF.EE l’,
(Corner Hoiibeck’a Alley,1
8. C
ono mim & mi
—W POLES A LE—
Gfocets and rrovision ueab,
102 and 104 Ewt Bay Street,
•®g31J.y CHARLESTON, 8. C,
Devereux & Co.,
DBLLEK8 tit
Liffi« # faffifiit, Utfc«, Flatter, Hair,
Slate* aid Marble laitlee,
Depot of Building Material* No. 90 Eaat Bay
Sash, Blinds, Doobs, Glass, Etc.
•epTlyl CHARLESTON, 8. C.
THOS. McG. GARB,
FASHIONiVBLK
UaTiig aid lair Ireaiig lalwi,
114 Market Street,
(One Door Eaat of King Street,)
earSOly] CHARLESTON, 8* C.
*\
i
TRY-
VOL VI. NO. 48. MRNW1JLL C. H., 8. C- THUR^DAT Al Ot ST 2,
1883.
$2 a Year.
4a
OLD SBOE&
How much a man ia tike old ahoea 1
For instance: Both a aoul may lose;
Both have been tanned ; both are made tight
By oobblere; both get left and right;
Both need a mate to be complete,
And both are made to go on feet.
They both need heeling, oft are sobd,
And both in time tarn all to mould.
With ahoee the last la first; with men
The first shall be the last; and when
The shoes wear out they’re mended new;
When men wear out they're men-dead, too.
They both are trod upon, and both
Will tread on othera, nothing loth.
Both fcere their tiea and both incltits
When perished in the world to thine;
And 1 both peg ont—and would yon choose
To be a man or be hiashoes?
THE GREAT REMEDT FOR
PULMONARY DISEASES,
COUGHS, COLDS*
^BRONCHITIS, Ac.,
AND GENERAL DEBILITY.
SURE CURE FOR
Malaria and Dyspepsia
IN ALL ITS STAGES.
|^.For Safo by all GROCERS and
DRUGGISTS.
"TJ»'
H. BISCHOFF * CO.,
Cfaarlentoa, 8. C.
'c>t* Maimfac-Mfrf and
THE STORY OF MY FAITH.
We Were standing on the piazza, Albw
Orayle and I, on that snmmer morning
when I first saw the woman whose face
•ascinated me aa a flower does, and who
W kept the warmest corner of my heart
ver since, as her own.
I was saying airy, graceful pothings
o my companion*, and ahe was smiling
•to my face with that expression in her
yes to few men had been able to resist.
Alioe Grayle had a passion for playing
uth men’s hearts, I knew, and I flat-
’ered myself she was willing to take me
s the next victim of her charming wiles.
As we stood there, I saw a graceful
ignre going down the avenue of elms,
did left off my pretty speeches to watch H.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Faith Farley,*’ Miss Grayle answered
•tirelessly, “She is the daughter of an
■Id friend of my father’s. He died some
•ears ago and left Faith alone and pen-
liless. Father brought her here, and
he has lived with my sister ever since.
V. sort of charity child, you see.” *
Just then, the girl under the elms
umed and looked toward us. Her
ace was fresh as the roses, with soft,
-rown hair framing it in. Thongh she
vim too far away for me to aee her eyes
try plainly, l felt the beauty of them.
"Do you think her pretty ?” asked
•liss Grayle, with a little ring o(f vexs-
ion in her voice, —L ——i
She was not used to a division ol
iftnors. She most be “all in all, or not
t all.’’
“Yee,” I answered, watching this girl
I own the avenue, “I think her more
han i retty. There ia real Iraaoty in her
ice I” ___ *:”■ '
“I never heard anyone else say that,”
ml Mia& Grayle. “It ia a trifle strange
liat others have been no blind to the
•eauty you have just discovered.*’
“ Faith, oome here I” called -Miss
irayle. “Mr. Ascott wants to look at
our eyes!
Tire girl stopped, as Miss Grayle called
>*r name, and the sweet, wild rose face
i as turned toward ns qttestioningly.
>he was so near, now, that I could see
hat her eyes were brown, deep and
liadowy, and as expressive of feeling
i the little pool is of light and shade,
is cloud or sunshine pass, over it
A quick, scarlet flush stained her face
is Miss Grayle explained why she had
railed to her. She turned away with a
laughty lift of her head and a fl—h of
ter beautiful brown eyes.
Later in the day I met Faith Farley
vulking in the grounds back of the
louse. She flushed redly when she saw
Aft, and would have avoided me. But I
prevented her Irom doing that
“Miss Farley,” I said, putting out my
baud to atop her, ‘T want to tell you that
1 am sorry for what Mias Grayle said
Uu* .. _I aaaure yon that 1 was
not at all to blame for her ruuu speech.
1 said I liked your lace, and would like
to paint it if I were an artist, and ven
tured the aseertion that tout eyee must
be brown to harmonize with your fea
tures. I asked her if I was not right,
and then ahe called to you. You are not
offended at that, I hope f*
'No,” she answered, frankly, with her
clear, sweet eyee on my face, to make
sure of my sincerity—the sweetest eves,
I thought then, that I had ever seen—I
think so still; ‘mo, I am not offended at
that, but I was offended at Mi— Gray feV
words. However, that ia nothing new.
I ought not to have minded them; bnt,
somehow, I couldn’t help it”
“And we will be friends, will we no! ?”
I asked, holding out my hand.
‘Yea, if you wiah it,” ahe aaid, and
-took my hand.
ftttld ftofc Very well disregard their fath
er's wishes.
Mias Farfoy*s plan ww te become a
ujuaio teacher, and she spent the tiuu-
—watting for her eighteenth year te
Come, bringing freedom—in perfecting
herself in the aft she was to tesmh.
It waa not long before I learned to
love Faith Farley. Indeed, I think 1
loved her from the first. But it was not
until later that I understood the nature
of my feelinga.
Alice Grayle saw the truth before 1
did. I knew that I had offended her ii
some way, for ahe waa cold and distant
at times sad made taunting little speech
es when we were thrown into each oth
er’s company. But for them or for her 1
cared littl* *
One evening we were Bitting in the
parlor together, and one of the grou t
said something about Faith.
Misa Grayle turned to me, with r
scornful flash of her eyes. —
‘Perhaps you will be so kind-wrto
tell ns what you think of Faith ?”
I knew then that ahe was jealous oi
Miss Farley’s influence over me. I do
not snppoee for a moment that Miss
Grayle oared for me only as a means of
amusement. But she had set her heart
upon bringing me to her feet, and she
could not brook a rival She was not
used to failure, and it stung her to think
she must fail now. I saw the ..truth
when she asked me that question about
Faith and I saw, too, that the interest I
felt in Miss Farley was love.
One afternoon I went to the city and
was detained there a week.
On my return I missed Faith. I
asked for her.
“She’s gone away to stay,” the ser
vant answered. -
.“Where tof” I asked.
He did not know^ , —.—
“Why did she leave so suddenly ?” I
asked.
■ e*
And so began a friendship that will
end only with life.
After that I aaw Faith Farley of’en.
I learned something of the disagreeable
life she led from her own lipe; but that
little I learned without her being aware
<4 the fact She evidently waa not one
who wore her heart upon her sleeve.
She would not tell the world the slights
and insult* she was obliged to endure,
but now and then astray word would be
let fall that gave me a glimpse of the
truth. It was plain to aee that ahe was
far from being happy.
I found out mueh about bar from one
of the servants. Mr. Grayle had cx-'
pressed the wish before she died that
Faith ahowld harve a home there as long
aa aha needed one, and he had made lici
a to remain until ahe wm eight
een. Than she waa to teach. But,
enough a member of the household, «he
had never been taken into the home.
Neither of Mr. Grayle’a daughters had
any special friendship for bar. It was,
WORM have
I’OM «M t» ban her fo, but they
That her departure must have beer
sudden I felt sure, for she had never said
anything to me about going away nntil
her eighteenth birthday came, and re
leased her from her promise to Mr.
Grayle. i
“I can’t say for sure,” was the reply;
“but I shouldn’t wonder if there wiv>
something back of it all that we don’t
know. I’m sure they”—with a jerk oi
his thumb in the direction of Miss Grayle
and her sister, who were sitting on the
veranda—“Pm sure they just the same
as turned her out of the honse. They
never waa friendly disposed toward her,
and I guess they’re glad she’s gone. It
looks that way to me. I think they
used her shameful, and I’ve been here
enough to know pretty well how things
go.”
That afternoon I asked Miss Grayle
about Faith.
She protested that she could not tell
me where she had gone to. Indeed, she
hardly thought Faith knew herself.
“She had some queer notions of inde
pendence in her head,” Miss Grayle
said.—“She wanted to earn her own
living and the like. I didn't pay much
attention to what she said. We asked
her what plans she had formed, and we
'onld learn nothing about them, for the
simple-reason, I think, that she had
none. She was ungrateful as I have
told you before, though you vfoh’t be
lieve it, I know; bnt some day she may
be glad enough to oome back.”
Beyond this I could learn absolutely
nothing. Faith had disappeared wholly
from my world. I sought her every
where, but 1 could find not a trace of
her. I had loafi my faith.
Miss Grayle exulted over my defeat
She conlu SS* vring my heart in the way
she had set ont to, iut she could in an
other, and nothing pleased £»?r so well
as to keep a.man’s heart on the rac*.
Then she tried her blandishments on
me again. I suppose she thought there
was still some chance of success in
throwing her fascinations about me. Ail
at once she became, tender, and played
the part a loving woman to perfection.
If my eyee had not been opened to her
true character, she would have deceived
me into the belief that I could have her
for the asking. But I did not want her,
and I knew she was acting a part. So
the arrows of her fascinations glanced off
my armour of indifference, and she Anally
gave up in disgnst
standing by a cot, in * dress pf ,|sober
gray. A sudden thrill went tingling
along my veins. The figure was won
derfully like Faith's—slender, supple,
graceful Tire hair was browu, too,
like burnished gold in the sunshine tlml
came into the room, and seemed to make
a halo about her head.
Suddenly the woman turned and I
caught sight of her face.
I cried out with all the strength left
me. It was the face of my Faith, grown
more womanly since I had seen it last,
but the same sweet, patient face I had
loved so well
She heard tne and came toward me.
But my excitement was too strong for
my weakened vitality to bear up under,
and a kind of half-unconsciousness came
over me. Yet I knew enough of what
was going on about me to know that
Faith bent over me, thinking I was dying,
and that she cried out to the grnff old
iloctor to save me.
Then I felt a warm thrill of life steal
ing back into my veins, and I opened my
eyed and whispered her name faintly.
She heard it, and bent down, while
her warm tears fed upon my face like
rain. cT"
‘You know me,” she said, softly. “I
was afraid you would die without know-
mg that a friend was near you at the
!<u>t. I am so glad i”
“Give him this wine,” said the doctor..
And I swallowed the draught from her
Hand, and it gave me a new lease of
ufc. -
“I shall not die now.’M,Said. "How
’an I ? I have found my Faith again !"
“He musn’t talk,” said the doctor,
peremptorily. “Keep him perfectly
iniet, and there is hope of his pulling
h rough yet ”
But I clung to Faith’s hand and would
uot let go of it And she, to quiet me,
sat down by my bed and took both my
hands in hers, and smiled upon me
»hrough her tears.
There was something restful in her
•imile, and I felt drowsiness stealing over
me soon, and then I slept a deep, sweet,
refreshing sleep, from which I awoke, to
ilnd her sitting by my bed still.
“I thought I had lost you, ” I said.
“I searched everywhere for you. Where
were you f” -
“Earning my bread,” she answered,
‘and trying to forget you I”
“Forget me!" I cried. “Why did
ou want to do that, Faith ?”
Then she told me that Miss Grayle
tried . to make her thihk that I WU f
amusing myself with her. She had not
believed the story then, but she thought
it better to go away. And she went,
but not without telling Alice Grayle
where she was going to. She ha<i
thought it quite likely that I would
come to her, but, as time went on and 1
did not oome, she began to believe that
Miss Grayle was right, and that I ha<
■ot cared for her. 1 ^
“Forgive me for doubting you!" six
aid: “but I was so lonesome, so friend
ewe that I doubted everybody—every
thing I” -
“‘ Let os forget the past, dear," Lsaid,
tud drew her cheek down to mine, and
itissed her. —
And she answered, softly:
“Yee, dear, we will forget” %
I hardly think we have succeeded in
inite forgetting everything that we
would have had otherwise. Bnt we have
>een so happy, Faith and I, that there
Jibs been no room for regret in our lives.
So happy! There never was another
woman in the world. I think, like my
true Faith, and because my life has been
ho foil of happiness, because of Faith, I
pity those who are faithlent.—IUwt-
trated World. ' *“
Berfham Sweets and Heed.
At first I (felt sure I should find Faith
somewhere. But as time went on, and
I heard not one word from her or of her
I began to believe ahe waa dead. Surely,
unless she was dead, she oould not haw
dropped out ol my world as she had.
But if she wot dead, I would search un
til I found her grave. _
The war broke out, and I enlisted.
I was in many battles before a bullet
touched me. Bet -at last it came my
turn to suffer, and one day I fell on the
field of battle.
They took me to a hospital Fever
net in, and that and my wound brought
me down to the gates of death. But I
lingered on tki* side of them loth to go
through. - .
For many days life waa an titter blank
to me. But one morning a dim ray of
oonscionsneea crept in across my be
wildered brain, and 1 opened my eyes
feebly and looked about. I saw long
wards, with narrow eots ranged along
them, on which men lay, and nurses
coming and going here and there in a
quiet, nomeleas way,
Looking down the room I saw a woman
\ A STUDItHT’S TRICK.
The religions papers are telling th<
story on the late Bishop Peek, that
in’ 1 */ years ago, when he was preside:) l
of a oolIfegC^he went as a delegate to n
Methodist oonffereuf? Staunton, Va.
There is a lunatic asylum tbe*t, and the
students of the college wrote to .fhe
Buperintendent of the asylum that a'
crazy man,, who imagined that he was
Bishop Peek, had escaped, and it was
expected he would appear at the con
ference, and requesting the superintend
ent to confine him in the asylum until
friends oould send for him. A descrip
tion of the good bishop was sent,:
and when he arrived at Staunton
he found a carriage waiting on him, and
he was driven to the asylum, where he
remained twenty-four hours before the
ministers oould get him out These
000 students are all ministers now, bnt
they still langh over their boyish trick.
In the second annual report of sor
ghum tests at the Experimental Farm
of the University of Wisconsin, at
Madison—sixty-eight pages—Professor
Magnus Swenson says that of twenty-
six varieties of cane planted laet year
Evly Amber was about (he only one to
mature. Different fertilizers appeared
to have no effect on the yield of sugar.
The rapid deterioration of the cane when
out and exposed to weather was shown
in one case, when a ton worked the day
it wm ent gave seventy pounds of sugar,
but three days later it jpive barely fifty
])ounds per ton, bnt i! the weather is
cool and the stalks attf ricked up, under
cover they can be kept for a long time
without notable loss. The defecation of
the juice must take place also as soon as
possible after it is expressed; lime only
was used for thia pnrposo. about a quart
to sixty gallons of juice; suipuhrous acid
was found to be not only unnecesRiny,
hut a source of loss unless very carefully
applied. Allowing forty cents a gallon
for the syrnp the sugar cost 4} cents a
ponnd, and could have been sold for 8
cents, and this favorable result was o!>-
ttimed even nnder many disadvantages.
Professor W. A. Henry reports that
the experience of farmers throughout
the State as well aa on their own College
Farm has pointed inclusively to a san
dy soil as best for cane growing for
sugar, the reasons given being that it is
warmer, contains leas organic matters to
mpoir the sugsr-prodnoing qualities
of the cane and is more easily cultivated.
From .such a soil, too poor to produce
paying crops of corn with the aanic
manuring and culture, ono hundred gal
lons of ■ymp per acre and twenty bush
els of seed may ,be expected, on richer
sandy loam one hundred and fifty gallon*
may be depended upon, but the richness
must not be the result of a recent appli
cation of stable manure if a high grade
of syrup ia desired. The land must t>e
much more carefully prepared for plant
ing, and in finer tilth, than is required
for Indian corn; seed should be m:*'
carefully selected, and its germinatm
{lower should be tested. No"variety Ira*
yet been found so good for Wisconsin a*
Early Amber.
The young plants are more tender
than oornrbut with a properly prepared
soil can be cultivated in about the sanx
way—with a harrow at'first till h gl
enough for the cultivator. Stripping th
stalks was moet easily done with a quick
blow with a heavy lath. Topping the
stalks to save the seed was best done
an armful st a time with a hatchet, and
a plank for a chopping block. Consid
erable care in drying the Lends is re
quired in order to avoid monldincss;
an arrangement of a series of open
shelves, like that for coring broom corn,
answered the purpose best; or the seed
heads oan be profitably fed directly to
fattening hogs. The shimmings, pi
w hich a large quantity is produced in re
ducing the juice to syrup or sugar, ono
usually wasted, was experimented with
as food for pigs and found to be quit*
valuable if some dry food is given also,
snob as meal or cane seed. The yield
of syrup in the State for the year 1882
is estimated by Professor Henry at 600,-
000 gallons. -
A Hint to New England Farmers.
rr worked uxn a chasm.
Smart ifoy.—“Mamma, I’ve a conun
drum. Do yon know why that story
Mpajtold you about being kept out so
late taking stock at the store is like the
Lotion, advertised ia the evening pa
per?”
Mother.—“ What are yon talking
abont, child ?”
Smart Boy.—“Well, I heard Major
Branson ask papa how the old woman
took ’the yarn about being kept out late
taking stock,’ and they both laughed,
and papa aaid Tt just worked like a
charm;’ and here ia a man, writing in
the evening paper, says that ha rubbed
the Liver Lotion on three times, .and
that ‘it just worked like a charm,’ ”
The smart boy got cuffed by his moth
er snd locked up under the stairs by his
father, and he has warned that couuu-
drama of that brand are not safo to ban
die.—Austin Siflingt,
The spirit of the New England farm
era ia rather unfavorable to agricultural
tenants—unwisely so in oor opinion.
Farmers increase the size of their faruu-
by acquisition of others, bnt they tak«
little pains to keep up the old farm
houses and to stock them with their good
working help—men of family, whose
children would fill up the district school,
whose sons would grow up to supply the
local market with farm hands, and
whose daughters would be the “help” in
the house of which there is in the rural
region increasing destitution. Any one
familiar with old-country neighborhood*
can ooufit fingers-full. of their cellar
holes, where SP 06 Uved the families oi
the ieaa well-to-uS. »npporting them
selves in honest iudep*Sfc < k noe * While
the old homes tumble in or o°n*ert-
ed into sheep sheds, the farmers find ID' ■
creasing difficulty to get laborers, rid<
for miles after “hired girls,” and wondei
what the trouble is, snd the district
school dwindles to W mere family. A
Connecticut school agent reports over
60 schools in the State with leas than 8
pupils, and over 860 schools with less
than 10 pupils. The regions wher,
these schools are kept are of • oours<
losing population, and tt would be a
good investment for the farmer* in every
one of them to invite agricultural ten
ants to settle there, giving each one the
use of a few seres and the pasturage of
his oow, in consideration of having his
labor at hand.—Springfield Republi
can.
Ttpooraphical Union.—The Inter
national Typographical Union at its
meeting in Cincinnati, adopted a resolu
tion requiring sub lists to be abolished
in all union offices by September 1 next
The effeot of this is that any union print
er may be employed by a regular em
ployee in any office as a substitute with
out being required to be first enrolled
aa a substitute by the foreman.
“Bpainxae-iB pretty good,” said an
mlertaker to an interviewer; “but if
ying was punished as tt was in the days
of Ananias, I would have to enlarge my
works and purchase fifty more hearses, ”
A RICH HAN’S CHARMER.
('•nrrrnlng the Renat? lar Wbaai Sea alar
Fair HhattcraS All Ilia UaaaahaM UaaM.
Reference has been made lately to the
unhappy domostia relations of Senator
Fair, of Nevada, which culminated in a
decree of divorce and alimony for his
wife. The "girl hi the case, who seems
to have completely captivated the oid
man with his $10,000,000, is “Annie
Carpenter,” a plump and handsome
Monde, about twenty-seven yean of age,
with crushed-strawberry hair. Annie
has a history, and so have her mother
and her aunt. She is the daughter of
J. H. Smith, who was the editor and
proprietor of t v e Peru Free Preet abont
thirty years ago. In 1856 Mr*. Smith
left her husltand in Peru and
aooom-
panied Mr. and Mrs. John T. Stevens to
California—or at least was s passenger
oh tlie same ship with them. Mrs.
Smith went to the home of her sister,
Mr*. Shultz, al*o a Peruvian, who was
then living with her husband and keep
ing hotel at Young’s Hill, a mining
town not far from San Francisco.
•Very soon after her arrival there her
daughter was bom and christened
“Annie.” Mr*. Smith obtained a di
vorce from tlie husband she abandoned
in Pern and married a miner named Car-
pen ter, whose name her child by the
first marriage waa permitted to assume.
She left Carpenter, obtained a divorce
from him and for a while hsd employ
ment in Washington. After returning'
West ahe was remarried to Carpenter.
The little daughter Annie went to live
with her annt, Mrs. Shnltz, who waa
very fond of her. Mrs. Shultz became a
member of Col Baker’s family in San
Francisco, and taking advantage ot her
husband's absence in a mining townpro-
I'tired a divorce and accompanied Col
Maker to Washington. Soon afterward
Col Tom Fitch, silver-tongued orator of
the Pacific slope, became enamored of
Mrs. Shultz and married her after pro
curing a divorce fram his wife.
Like her mother and her sunt, Annie
Carpentfer has charms. Some time ago
a San Francisco doctor or dentist fell
desperately in love with her, although
ho was at one time the husband of one
wife. Through the influence of Colonel
Fitch he procured s divorce and married
his new love st Virginia City. After
ward the wronged wife had the proceed
ings of court granting him a divorce set
aside, and this annulled his marriage
with Annie Carpenter, She has since
made conquest of larger game. Her re
lations with Senator Fair were the
gronnda for the divoroe recently obtained
by Mrs. Fair. The ten-million sire is now
free to marry his bonnie Annie, who is
■aid to be pretty as well as vivacious.
—Peru (N. Y.) Republican.
Women In French Banks.
The administrator of the Credit Fan
cier and Bank of France in speaking ot
the employment of women in their es
tablishments, avers that when the lady
clerks ceased to be mere supernumera
ries, they got with astonishing quick
ness into the routine of the busi
ness. They are chiefly employed Ju
writing letters, as cashiers, and, when
they are good accountants, in striking
imlanoes. There is a feminine division
in a separate wing. Nothing is so rare
there as errors of inattention. At the
Bank of France the highest oharaetor is
given <4 the lady clerks. They have
been found scrupulously honest and
obedient to necessary discipline, though
more quick in getting through business
which is not in the ordinary routine
the other employees. Quito recently
the Governor of tlie Bank of France and
the Board cf Directors established a re
tiring annuity fund for the men. It has
also been decided when auxiliary clerks
are wanted to prefer women to men, be
cause of their quickness in learning their
business. The regular hours of work
are from nine to four. Extra timaria al
ways paid for. Salaries are not decked
when illness is certified.
The Chirck Fidget.
Whether you look for him or not you
know wh^firtSa^e pushes the
sockawsy with a long,
of its own. Then he site bolt U]
hooks his shoulder-blades over the back
of the pew, and hangs on. He is going
to sit still this Sunday if it kill* him.
But the pew is too high, so he settles
down a little. Then he puts a hymn-
book between his back and the pew.
Then, he leans forward and lets it fall
with a crash. Then he folds his arms;
he half tarns and lays one arm along the
back of the pew. Suddenly ha slides
down braces both knees against the beck
of the pew fn front Ah, that’s comfort
It lasts ninety seconds, when he abrupt
ly straightens np, elevates both arms,
and hooka his elbows over the baek of
his pew. That isn’t what he wants; his
legs are tired; he reaches for the hassock
with both feet, upsets it, and in a frantic
effort to stay it, kicks tt agains^ the pew.
Covered with burning embarrassment he
pull ont his watch twice or thrice with
out once looking at tt. He folds his
arms across h» breast, then he nrossrin
them behind his baek; he thrusts his
hands into his pockets, he drops a Bible
on the floor and puts his feet into his hat,
tud at times yon look to aae him go all
o pieces, but he doesn’t He stays to
gether and oomes baek next Sunday,
every limb and joint of him.—Bivtfotie,
THE PEOP
Barnwell CL EL,
In his oration before the New YorfrV
State Ptms Association Chasmesy ML \
Depew spoke aa foOowt: 11m error into
which this feeling of irresponafbtiity
sometimes leads the ptaM is that it eon-
trols and therefore can defy the pubUe.
But public opinion is always the aiastsr
The newspaper ia strongest which best
reflects it The whole press of the
North oould not have subdued the in
dignant outburst at the firing on Sumter
or checked the grief at the death of Gar
field. The pras interprets and enAareei
doctrines and faiths, but ia eonfrsntad *
V a thousand forces if it attempts their
overthrow. The traveler in the Weston
Reserve of Ohio Mked a farmer abont
the times. “Bad enough,” said ha;
“my Democratic neighbor got his i
paper yesterday and fleered me
P lately this morning, but when the
WeeJUp Tribune comes Saturday, and I
have read old Greeley, I will wipe him
out.’*
It hM become common to rf*l— that
the preM Lm superseded the pulpit,
annihilated the orator, relegated to the
relam of tradition the picture of the
“listening Senate,” which Lm fired to
high ambition the youth of preceding
generations, and so elevated and edu
cated the massM that great men and
great leaden, the Webaten, Clays and
Calhouns of the past, will now more
appear. But uothiag oan take the place
of the spoken word, the ngnnliMn and
thrill, the nsmalem combinations of
power and personality by which the
speaker sways his audience and leaves
impressions which follow to the grave.
Exceptionally great men have dis
appeared from American public life, and
the dreary drivel of ordinary legislative
debate produces an Insatiable longing for
the free vigor of the newapa
of which it ia a thin pamphnee.
many Congressional orators w
announcement of wtome namas for n
speech at Cooper Inetilnto would ill the
hall, and whose utterances would oom-
maod th# full attention of the pnees?
Ifoe position of rwpre—liatlvee gives no
social distinction, whHa the time teqpfaed
to properly fill the funeticee of legfolek-
ingfor fifty millions of 4popIe rains the
opportunities fm jinifitoMnal ia liwiium
sueoeas. Tbs Webstors end days and
Calhouns an editing newspapers, prac
tising law, or eon trolling the great buffi-
nesa enterprises of the times. Bn*
prem have not made the exirtooeeof i
men impossible. They exist in!
and in France. Whileai
monopoly is possible. It
the most courageous combination
frighten the largest capital Under ]
assaults, moving to action the]
every agency of government, the
table issue is reformation, or
bankrnptoy. The preM a* any oenter
Which to-day failed to reflect poblio
opinion and protect the public ihtcrnrta,
would be followed to-morrow by new
issues meeting the popular demand and
receiving the popular support The
country prMa liveo ad thrives
the great metropotitoa journals. It'
never so vigorous, ahle and indepeoflNrt'
Mills te-day. By the vary law of Ms
being, to fta perfoei froedeui, the]
teaches the
seientist end rune the government The
present generation lieno* the robuet
vigor of the tost Spend one day among
the old flies, and than an konr with tor
great metropolitan journals, and iiwfU
do more than all ah
regrets for the good old
mote thanksgivings for the tetoOaetiul
life and light of the nineteenth oentuiy.
The most important eflfeet of tie
liberty and growth upon the press itself
has bam to elevate journalises from a
trade to one of the liberal proto
Tratafac m woO m aa aptitude to i
tiraly^thinlrtLey arTflttsd te be lawyer*,
dootare or elergjnn^ bnt ftere is no-
one ia the tfoited States, «f reasonable
J age, who doubto toil ability te
the editorial chair. While the <
of the editor diffine widely from took
the other prefeerioae, to
dudes them sK While hta prlrihfffil
greet, hie motto should be toe old
chivalno
have been
etaneee of
moet of
partment in
of aoentary, but to i
tihtyof reaouree, to i
and intenae industry at will, fta toe
ability to bring at oooe and upon eaU
all their reaouroM and infnrmetien te
the question at hand, in the ra
of watching and thinking at toe i
moment, none of I ham have 4
with Horace Greeley and Henry J~
ipond.
mi—,
4
I
r
War, out, Ww?—Why, atike an
arv would renraae their sruiltv
But it don't
hPr -r ; ^ p
“Pa, dear, we are going te Batirtnge
this summer, are we not? The Man
Glory’s am goitag."
If burin ms don’t ptok up we shell
into bankruptoy. ThaA won't be