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3 THE WEEKLY LEDGER GA.FFNEY, S. C., JANUARY 9, 1896 SQUIRE RUFUS SANDERS Tells a Oharmlnor Story Backwoods Life. From 8*4 Naws From t’nntlior Crorls—“Over to Old Aunt I.lza'd—The <ir4 , nte<t 1*1mco for Hojrn—A Terrlltlc Knllnir Tivipp, "Rose* Hero and Sm.w Hankti Right Out Yonper.” (Copyrluht. As for mo, J tiever was a man to bor row -tKMtoo and grumble at tho good world wo live in. lint in the com mon run of everyday life wo arc natur ally bound to put up with a general mixtry of ups and downs and overs and unders—of storms and sunshine,of trials, triumphs and s tr i b u 1 ations— the good as well as the-bad, the i daylight and the dark. Wo are glad yesterday and sad today, , and tomorrow A there ain’t no tellin which. Wo know what has come and what has gone, but only the good Lord knows what is comin next. And it is all right and proper, I reckon, that Ho won’t tell us nothin concernin the things that are yet to be. Beyond the gold of evenin we must meet the dusk of night. There are roses hero and snow banks right out yonder. You jest simply can't some times always tell where tho mixtry will hit you the next time. You maybe mought play the tray for low whilst the other man holds the two-spot. Hut at any rates, takin the years together as they come and go they bring forth nothin but what is right and best— best for you and best for me and best for everybody else. Naturally of cours ■ there bo some things that don’t look right and don’t feel right on the first blush, but they will work out that way sometime and somewheres down the line. fimilyof th Itsihorns in tho old set tlement. Pr ii time to t me I found out from Amr Liza that her father and mother had both died when she wan’t nothin but, a spring pullet, whilst her brothers had all got killed off in a big war with the Indians. I also learnt from some of tho old heads in the set tlement that tlx* first, last and onlyest sweetheart she ever iiad got shut out of the gitaio in ihe same way. Ann L za was a powerful hand to pick i ' all the orpbant boys that got loft ii them regions. She was what you n iiigiit call an orpliant her own sweet old self, and she showed a kind fellow feohn for all them that got left, or strayed and straggled oil and lost from their folks like she did. There was Billy Johnson and Tom Milligan and Ned Vickery (“Windy Ned,” as wo hoys use to call him) and Tobe Holli day and Jack Heavy and Bans Tim mons, and some others I can’t now remember—all of them were loft poor orphant boys and got picked up by Aunt Liza. And of them that aro now livin all will tell you that they had as good a homo ns any hoys in them regions, and a heap sight better than some. Aunt Liza would take a tangly- headed. bare-footed scrap of a boy and raise him up as careful and tender as if he was her own dear child. Soon as he got big and strong enough ho would have to work some, mornins and evenins and in crop time, but he wore plenty of clothes—them that was nice and clean, too—and went to school two or three months every year, poked his feet un der a good table three times a day — three hundred and sixty-five days in the year—and got all the fun and com forts that any other boy could get out of a good old country homo. And then when he got big enough to stand his ground and fight his own way through tho world she would give him new clothes enough to last him a year and turn him out to run with the dry cattle. In that way, you understand, she man aged so as to always have room at her house for one more orpliant hoy if in case lie happened along poor and help less and out of a home. Aunt I.lza She Is I)ea<l. Right in the middle of the Christmas and New Year jubilations wo heard some sad and terrible news from down in tho old Panther Creek Settlement. Aunt Liza Raiborn she is dead and gone. She died about 12 o’clock on the night before Now Year. It would seem like as if there was a general closin out over to Aunt Liza’s bouse that night— the close of the day, tho close of the month, the close of tho year, and the close of a long and useful and busy and beautiful life. For a common thing it takes a heap to make mo solorocholy and put me on tho mourner's bench. Mother maintains that I wouldn't look serious if I was tarred and feathered and sot on fire a mile from water. But I have been creepin around and mopin and droopin a right sharp little bit ever since we got the bad news from down in the old settlement. Not to say that I am tho least ways in trouble as to where Aunt Lzi went, or how she is comin on these days, hut mostly on ac count of how they’ll miss her around in i the settlement. So far as I know she 1 didn’t have nothin in particlar to make her want to linger any longer around down here below. All of her own folks had went on ahead years and years ago, , and for a long time she had jest simply been “foolin along and piddlin about,” as she were won’t to put it, and “waitin for the cat to die.” And yet at tho same time Aunt Liza had her place in this world—not a hie place or a high place to bo certainly, but a bright place and her right place—and sho filled it clean out to the edges. So whilst the fiddlin and feastin, and frolicin and dancin, and weddins and quiltins, and bouse raisins and log- rollins, and shindiggin and footslingins went on as usual, if not more so, I have been layin around homo considerable and keepin up a tromendius big pile of thinkin. I reckon Aunt Liza Raiborn must of been knockin along tolerable dost to a hundred years old before sho was gath ered up to her fatbr rs. I am no spring chicken myself, and there ain’t nocolt’s teeth in my mouth to speak of, but it has been "old Aunt Liza” from way back yonder as far as ray remembrance runs. So far as we can hear tdi of there wan’t anything particlar the mat ter with Aunt Liza when she died. From the general appearments, and from what tho neighbors say, it looks like as if she had. jest simply lived her life out and tin n fell to sleep—sorter dried up on the stem and blowed away, as it were. When I first come to know Aunt Liza rale well she was Hvin there on the old place and runnin it as best sho could, single-handed and alone. The neigh bors would call by and drop in now and then, first one and then another, to see that she didn’t git sick and lonesome, and there wan’t a day or night that come but wbat somebody was there to pass the timo with her. S'io itaii the Uoyx Down Fine. “Over to old Aunt Liza's,” if only a boy went there oncst, was a place ho never could forget. There was a big o’.d dingy-lookin brown house, without any lightnin rods or hay windows or fancy trimmins on it. There was big oak trees out in the yn '. v.hich made the coolest and most, bulliest place in tho world for hoys to hang sw.ngs and build frog houses ami play marbles. It was always cool and shady-like and pleasant thore. Out in tho garden there was a plum wilderness of flowers, and down back of the garden you would find the best and biggest orchard for miles and miles around. But the mainest thing that made it such a fine old place for hoys was nothin but Aunt Liza. She knowed a boy, with all of his faults and failins, better than most any grown-up woman I have | over had acquaintance with. Sho al- ; ways would give us plenty of elbow I room and a little slack in the rope to play with. She ruther liked young j company and sho didn’t mind tho fuss, j She never got hot and flew off at tho | handle if wo hoys went wrong and ; somethin git broke. She wouldn’t fuss with nobody about nothin. When she went singin and laugbin and talkin sho would ho humrain soft and lively and pattin with her foot. She always talked with tho same voice—low and kind and gentle like—but y t she was plain and blunt and prompt and straight as a shingle in her business. She had as much sense about runnin a farm and keepin the place up as any man in tho settlement, and a blame sight more than a whole lot of them. Of course Aunt Liza couldn’t take bolt with her own bands and lay a fence worm or drive a six-mule team, but slm could beat the whole discovered world standin in the hack door and bavin it done. The general crops that growed on the old Raiborn place couldn’t be beat no where; on Panther Creek, and there was corn in the crib, and meat in the smokehouse and meal in the tub and lard in the gourd from one year into the other. Aunt Liza must of been some km to me to the general extent that she always did believe in feedin, and she forever had plenty around her, and that which was good. Put more than all of that. Aunt Liza could beat the created world fixin up thin r s to please a boy and meet the common wants of his appetite. Sho Could make the best and biggest bis cuits, and hike tho best custards, and pies, and puddins, and dumplins, and t. rls, and fritters, and flapjacks, and the mo-1 of thorn, of any old lady 1 ev r y< t have saw. You couldn’t pat* along by her pantry no timi—summer nor .vint r—without sundlin the great rail o. good things sue had cooked up and pul away, and if it come to pass that you was a little boy you wouldn't have to wait so very long before you could climb up on the outside of your share. The Gr«»ie»i Fince for Hoys. To me it looks plum natural and right for Aunt Liza to of passed away from amongst the shiftin scenes of this vain and fleetin world without any pain and sufTerin, and without bavin any thing in particlar the matter with her. Sho was most in generally always well both in mind and body—in good health and spirits—and s e made everybody around her feel tho same sort of hlessins. Tho greatest place for hoys anywheres in the Panther Creek country was “over to old Aunt Liz i’s,” as we youngsters use to say. She was livin then where she always livid and wiien- site died, at tho old Raiborn place on the Jinks.>n Trail road over on th“ other side of Panther Creek. Aunt Lizi never did have any folks tlr t i can remember of, but 1 have heard my grandfather say that oncst upon a timo there was a big One Terr l»'e Fat In Seni|ic. i will r collect to my dyin day how 1 trot into a terrible eat in scrape over to old Aunt Liza’s one time when I w;.s a boy. Hit was in th" dead of winter, and the weather was treni' ndius cold, and maybe you mought know what that means in r gards to a yearlin boy’s ap petite. When dinner .got ready that day there was good old country sausage and chitlins and sauce, and backbone and - ; aroribs. end < racklin bread with tie er eklins in it; then sweet tilings fri ni the big house to the kitchen and frr-di sweet milk to w >.-di it all down wit . So eoiisiqii ntiul iy ! lit in, I did, a.id st ick iu> kui and fork and spoon in o eve.i^ duti t at come around. 1 w like a fed drink in good whisky— (•■ uldn’t tell when 1 got enough — and a.oil;; about midway of ific eveqii) j was about the sickest white boy you ever hoard tell of perhaps. It looked to mo ( ..... like the world wis turn in bottom side upwards, whilst 1 w is turnin wrong side outwards. Man, sir. I was mighty nigh past thinkin, but the first th ng that popped into my min i was the kind and gentle and patient face of old Aunt Liza. I lowed to myself if there was anybody in this wide and wicked world which could pull a boy through such a scrape as that alive. Aunt Liza was that body. So I worried along till I got myself back to tho bouse. ;hough I was monstrous tired totin what I had et, and laid down two or three times on the way, hopin maybe somebody mought come along presently with a wagon and haul it back for me. When I got back to the house and Aunt Liza found out what was the mat ter with me, she sailed out and flew around a few minnits anl come in the house with somethin which she said would make me git well. I have now forgot exactly what sort of a name sho had for the dost sho give me, but that is neither here nor there. It would of done as well without any name at all, as for that. I got there ail ttie same, and insido of fifteen minnits it had fetched up everything but my dirty socks and had them' fittin mighty loose. Aunt Liza could beat tho 1 vin world when it come to loadin a hoy up with good things to eat, and then if ho was neces sary compelled to unload she could draw the waddin as slick and quick as tho next one. “Jest to Keep tli“ Hujrsjorij OIT.” When people used to sometimes ask Aunt Liza what in the round world sho wanted with so many boys around tho place, she would always say, “jest to keep tho buggers off and tend to the stock.” Thi n sho would must in gen erally run on to say : “Somehow or somehow else, I ruther like tho boys—particlar them that has been left without a moiiier and without a home. They are so much company to a body, and there is room enough right here on this place for every buy in the settlement. Toll th“ boys to drop in and see a body—come when they fuel like it, and stay as long as tney please.” I know full well if the youngsters around in tho Panther Creek country could of but only had their way, Aunt Liza Raiborn would of lived on forever and a few days ov-r. In her day and generation there was one place where tho boys could always hang up their hats and make themselves at home. And if they took up a notion to havo a I Christmas tree or a candy pullin, or go out and hire a fiddler and fetch tho j girls and jump some jigs and run off a : few reels, it was perfectly all right “over to old Aunt Liza’s.” She was considerably of a church woman at that, but sho never had went crazy in regards to religion, and nothin in tiie world would do her more good, it seems like, than jest to “let tho young folks have their way oncst in a while,” as sho used to put it. Now I reckon some folks would won der how it come to pass that Aunt Liza never did trade herself oil as the wife of some sorry white man, hut, exceptin my Aunt Nancy Newton, sho was the one onlyest old maid I oversaw without feelin sorry she didn’t git married I reckon it was best for her—and I know it was best for a whole passlo of boys— that the right man never did coutu along at the right time. Sho was a mother to tho motherless and a help to the help ers and a hope to the hopeless, and her home was a homo to the homeless. People that ought to know toll mo that when Aunt Liza was smkin and droopin into tho last long sleep sho was talkin out of her uead, and carry n on with herself constantubout her orphant hoys. “Tell the boys to como over and drop in and see a body now and then," says she. And when the evenin bells was ringin in the glad New Year thore was a funeral goin on “over to old Aunt Liza’s.” Rfffs Sanukiih. NOTES OF VENEZUELA. Liberty of worship is guaranteed by law. The standing army consists of n little over .'1,000 men. The republic claims an area of GL’2,- 607 square miles. The constitution is modeled on that of the United States. The emancipation of slaves took place on March 24, 1654. The national militia consists of all males between the ages of 18 and 43. From 1550 until early in this century the country was under Spanish domin ion. The coast of Venezuela was the first part of the American mainland sighted by Columbus. The monetary system of Venezuela is that of the Latin convention, the franc being represented by the bolivar. Don Guzman Blanco was dictator from 1870 until Kebrurary 20, 1873, when he was elected constitutional president. It was not until 1845 that the inde pendence of the republic w nsrccognized by Spain in the treaty of Madrid. In 1810 Venezuela rose against the Spanish yoke, and in the follow ing year the independence of the territory was proclaimed. The pure white population is less than three per cent. The vast majority of the people are negroes, Indians, mu- lattoes and zambos. Elementary education is well pro vided for under the law'. There are two universities, 19 federal colleges and va rious other public and private institu tions for higher education. HISTORY REPEATED. From the date of the creation to that of the iioo<l, the Hebrew version cal culates l.C.iU years; the Septuagint 2,202; liie difference being G0C years. Dishes of gold and silver used in ta ble service in 900 B. C., were found at Troy by Dr. Schliee- nun. On - of these wua ut*out tho size now employed. ARP TALKS PEACE. He Doesn’t Believe Thore Will Be Any War With England. Ills Exposition Kxperlenee—t'eeln Hellljf- erent Toward ii Squesler Who Un- loa.leil ■'(>in*> Exposition Hand* kerchief* On Him. They told mo of various things they would like to have for Christmas pres ents for friends an !• posterity. They wanted seventeen, I think. Of course I listened in a subdued manner, hut an elephant had trod on my pocketbook and it was so flat I couldn’t see through this business. My wife said that hand kerchiefs w< ro a good thing—nice hand kerchiefs were always in order. She had some in her trunk to send to th? hoys. There are various tilings in that trunk. It is a sort of subtreasury, a cache, but it won’t hold enougli things for the grandchildren. Dolls and baby car riages and jumping jacks and picture books had to bo bought and tome nice linen handkerchiefs. Well, as I was turning the Norcross corner I heard a squealer squealing handkerchiefs. There was a s;a it of them on a box and a crowd around and ho was passing handkerchiefs along for ex train it on. “Genuine linen, pure Irish linen, all guaranteed, only 5 cents apiece. Ex amine them, gentlemen. These are ex position exhibit goods that we are obliged to sell out, for wo aro going home. Home, sweet home,” etc. Never heard a man squeal more sweetly. I was shy at first, i ut took hold of the handkerchief. It was good size and nicely bordered and looked like linen and felt like linen, and I heard a man say "This is linen, sho:e.” S > I tho ght I had found tho very thing my wife wanted and I told him I would take ten. “Thank you, sir,” he said politely, and he took them off t he folded pile and wrapped them up and I put them in my little grip and handed him a doll r—a silver dollar. He d d nt hand hack the chanyo, but leaned up <1 >s ■ to me and wbisp n d, “You are a family man, I reck- n.” "Yes,” said I. "Well. I will are we going to get our mo-cenirios from. W« can’t get any more from England or Ireland orGerm my or Spain, where we got them during the last, and we will need thos“ rebels down South. The fact Is, they are the b st fighters the nation has got. We ha-1 five to their on - in the th Id and then it took four years to subduo them un i t:ny have put 900,000 of our im-n on the p n- sion rolls, besides what th y !:.ll d. The fact is we are ju t obliged to lo ve them and now is a go<> i t.ine to t- nd--r the olive branch. Th it’s what mm told m-* they said. Now if they will put our one-leggi-!, one-arm dundo-v - eyed and disabled v- l- rans on the pen sion rolls too, wo will have some faith in their tnagninimi ., but not until then. It wouldn’t, bo anv very b g drain on the treasury, for we haven't but about vet ran; 1 ft, all tol 1, and not more than one-fuurth of them would he pensioners. Our boys have l> en dying for thir y years, but somehow or ot.ier theirs don’t die but keep on mu-iipiying. There is another thing about, it. Tho resolution was too short ail too stingy of lan guage. It ough to h ;v* had a preamble and some worts th t indicated regr t for tho long delay. In f-et they should havo apologized and i> ■ rged our pardon and done the clean th ng w: ilo they were at it. My fear now is that if th ■ war blows ov-r tn- Grand Army will raise a rumpus about tuat resolution and have it rescind-' \ just like they did the order for the n st if -t.on of the rebel flags. They hav • li 1 ail tin-olllees and all tho p nsious i mg. They don’t want us to have anyl .ing. !5ut we’ii get even with ti. tn iu rho long run. See if wo don’t. L . ; of their b< sr, p -o- ple are moving -1 oa i S ni: h an I in a few years will h c <iu i -- lever e’ -ntleiMen and Curisttuns an t pitr its us we ar and can -ais" th-*ir i ii 1 Iren in a uior.: atmosphere. Our -■ i mi e anl our s - cb-ty lias a wont r il elf ct o:i North ern men. Well, of course, about half of this is a joke, an i 1 don’t w t to u ike anybody mad tills Christmas, ut : ho oh rli.lf is in earn st. To h sr, t-tugG.-u ra Grant over s.id u : “1, t us hav- - -y w- f n & > 1 rr> C K © ti e M V B! C 'I v c. G LPL w u g"- « ; ; £ P 1 - a, o. Neuraf rl i, ' . C'“: g c; 7 ft ' ! O o a Wi ta ra Liver £ tc © a f! 9 • c ,t ss -a •d. i it ' . I ! Oi.- o e\try . Tt- lity. to MiiMin ' i - id), e. etc., SN of -I. ’-ties. e 'hop ' aiVy give you twenty more for the other half dollar,” said he. So I took them and put them all in my sateh-l. G-o l gra cious! Th-rty linen handkerchiefs for a dollar. Enough to k ep all the grand children’s noses cl an and loavo somo for me. I was proud. When my wife o; “ned the package she was horrified. “Why they ape all cotton and the veriest, thinnest, sh ziest cotton at that. You h ;ve been cheated again, as usual.” Teat rascally queil- r had handed round a u c - 1 non j. - - 'liter- chief as a sample and wrapped in poor thin cotton oil' s so ciu clc we dident sus pect anything wrong'. Hut they will do for the noses, 1 reckon. In f .c 1 , I rather like them for my grip, and 1 carry two all the time—one for each s-d-*. And 1 bought a b uut ful little d-dl carriage with a parasol ov-*r it for 29 cents and a lunch basket and a mice that runs around on the floor and a >pu d as • and some otdier little tricks and came borne happy, for Curistm is is a season to make others happy. On e.rtli p ace, good will to men, and especially to the children. Yes, that’s it! On earth p- ace! We are not going to have anv war vvitli En gland. But I’ll bo dogond if Johnny Hull shall step over hero and take land that don’t belong to him—land and water, for there is tue mouth of tho Orinoco that ought to b ■ open and free to our commerce. War is a horrible, devilish business and it on lit to b- considered s- riously. No, sir! We are not going to have any war, hut I'll lie dad bla>ted if Johnny Bull r,hall have anything over here that don’t rightfully belong to him—the greedy old rascal. The fact is, I don’t behove those Eng- 'ish know where Y-n'zuela nor who Mr. Monroe was, hut they have got a big map and slake out the earth and claim to tho stak- s. I'Vty years ago they put down their stakes on an island in the Caribbean sea ami ihe Island sank in an earthquake and went down and England is still guarding th • bole an 1 waiting for the island to rise again. That’s what a man told me. But the idea of war with our old mother, tied bless her and bless her noble queen, who for over fifty years lias been a model woman—a noMe- hearted lady of tho old-n times- an illustrious example of good-fashioned, honest motherhood; had nine children right st: - ught along and nu 's- d them in the old-fashioned way and give them castor oil and s ills and sung to them at night just like wo do. I h ;ve great re spect fora woman who has r.iis-d nine hildren, and 1 have It) per cent more respect f >r a woman who lias raised up ten, like m . wife iiaS don"; but I’ll be ding-donged :f Jo nny Bull, or any other hull, shall put a chipo i our hat. Wo are going to inv st jato. Our com- mittoe will go pur there ana report md maybe by the Jj’ -urth of .1 u y vye will know something about ibis liqsiuoss, and then we will b t it fret »U>n ' fop a y ar or two and fix up an arbitration, and by tho your 190 ) tho dispute wijl bo settled. That’s the way wo did the Alabama claim and the Behring seal li ;heri> *. Wen ein’tbe in .ny hurry about fighting. In fact, it looks like sacrilege for Christian nations to talk war during Christmas t im s. We ought to have w.ited until the Fourth of July — that’s the time to crow—but old Johnny Bull had better mind how h-* steps over our hem sphere. The old rebs have had their disabilities r moved and they huvi n't forgotten bow En.*land treated us thirty-throe yens ago. 1 predictel that- engross would turn ou • boys 1>> so just as soon as war was thre.it* n"d. That was nice, wa n t it? so gen oils, so magnanimous. .After thirty long years they did it in a day without ilnbate. We didn't ask it they hov dlton us. Sherman, Tom Reed <’o. got together the night after Mr. lev dand's-war message and said if W-* should have war with England, wboru peace,” and ii<* wo o have sa.d it ii ho hud nt, been a g a ; i-m in. I have h <1 a bar-l liiu--of it tolay. My w.f * si d tli at i mu-.L put . n th . : pane of gi.;-s u st i rs b !'->:•-* the eh., dren como. .! >s e was co n .n g liom t stay awhile and, of co r e, won d br ng her l». by, an I I i .. -n h r hu'- band would o • apt, t > follow alou Weil, of coi.r , tli - p no noist be pu in, for if there :s nay i.u 1 st n about t house it is a b o'.- :i p . n • wi t a a ba ; - : som • rags stu k n tint hole. It; sign that the m n <-f t e hous<* ai-i’ much account, it's at b.d as a fro -' gat-- that won’t or- i or shut - asy or a frontdoor with a uii >b oil'. Tbis pan ■ wi-. on ,:i tin* upper sis - and 1 nev- r r a z 1 w.i..t a critical j •!» it was until I . at it. 1 came v> ry near falling out of :h“ two-story win duw, for tho wo.’.; ii.i i t-i h d'-m- fr-- n the outs.d<‘. 1 a 1 to h dd ou \vitdi ou - hand and work w.th t ie other and at last had to giv • t up No 1 g.-t the step ladder and took out all the stops and pull 1 d the sash ing J - th ' room hang ing by ^h** cord-*, and my wife sho help- d mo an i tho ladder cracked and creaked amazingly, hut we finally got tho glU'S :n an i Lack* d an 1 puttied all right, and th" sash put luck, and th • sto; s replaced, and 1 thou ;o 1 wasdoi. *. but sin* wanted tn** old shades taken down and some now one; put up, and I had to mount the old st*-p la Idor again. Sho never lets mo know all that sho wants m • to do for fear of alarming me, and that's why sh*- kept the now shades hid out until I had put in the window pane. But I got through safely at last and teceiv- d several benignant smiles. By tliis timo I was son* rvuii; that win n 1 tried to write I couldent har-lly hold the pen and that’s what is the matter with this manuscript. 1 <"in’' r ■ cd it myiMf and will excuse any mistakes your tyro makes. Oh, these women who ar-' always fixing up something'. They make me so t red. But I gave her a nice work basket for Christman, 1 did, and another was sent to 1. ■ fr \1 Flo; !da, and she is happy too; the fact is, wo ar • all happy right now.—Bill Arp, in At lanta Constitution. BRIEF AND INTERESTING. Almost the only monument of the Roman dominion in Egypt, the fortress of Babylon, at Old Cairo, is being torn dow n to make way for modern build ings. The latest story of the kind is of a needle which a woman in South Surry, Me., swallowed 72 years ago, and \\ Inch prodded its way out of her elbow a week or two ago. Beverage, is the suggestive, appro priate, but noncommittal name of He- man elected president of a temperance pociety in North Haven, Me., n few days ago. Eighty varieties of microbes, some en tirely new, have been discovered by M. Van do. Steen in Amsterdam drink ing water. None of them are cholera bacilli. A German antarctic ex,KclUion litis been decided upon and 950,000 marks allotted to it. It will eon. ist of two vessels, will best three year; i ml will start south from Kerguelen island. Kildare and Wicklow have been just ly termed the garden of In land for no where is nature more profuse in her display of the picturesque and the beautiful. The nettle is put to a useful purpose in some parts of Europe by being con verted into various textile fabrics. In Dresden a thread from it has b a n pro duced ro fine and silky that a length of 00 miles weigh* only 10ounces. Down to the de >th of 2 > fathoms where daylight up eats, the eyes of a fish get bigger and bigrer. H yond that depth small- yed forms si t in, with long fillets evcluped to supple ment the eyes. Hantlcs Beaut i- ■ **v. ' r.e to do alt we ' c or corres- ' t' kS, t ' C T i’k * > • \ Y ii on :8g6. 0:- TWEN- no. ■ no. .1 oa. . 0 >. I ■> 00, no. ! t (X rMYNT. , . : • .. v. u (L'.i-.i ‘ MonumiHits ;i i : •!:>'. Agent for i::0\ Ok-NriCS. No. \Y. Trade St., Charlotte, N . G\