The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, January 29, 1880, Image 1
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., JANUARY 29, 1880. VOL. IV.-NO.13.
WINTER VERSES.
Come, let's bury our Summer's dead.
While our eyes with weeping are rod.
Hero. whore droops the withering rose,
Peace to the fly that tickled our nose.
Under the earth, ton fathoms deep.
Plant the mosquito who murdered sleep.
Down, In a grave both deep an'l wide,
Linen duster and straw hat hide,
Stick a slab at foot and head;
Writo: ""hero lies our Summer's dead."
Bonnie Bessie.
It was a spring day, sweet and bright,
even amid the shadowy solitudes on th<
highland hills, with the delicious woodland
odors, and fitful gleams of sunshine, and
the tender beauty of bursting bud and open
ing flower.
Though the day was drawing to a closc
"Bonnie Bessie" still lingered by the high.
laud spring, a brooding look of pain and
regret, and half-formed resolve, in hot
great dusky eyes. Every one called hei
"Bonunie Bessie," from Lady Janet, of Dud.
dlestone Castle, to Rob, the herd's lad, of
Black Linn. The minister himself, a good
brave man, had given her the title, whei
she first appeared at Black Linn, a slim,
slip of a lass, with wild elf-locks and checkf
like carnations.
As she grew up to womanhood the namc
clung to her. "Bonnie Bessie" they all
called her, and rightly enough; for of all
the highland lassies who gathered at thc
little kirk, Sabbath morning, not one was
half so beautiful and winning as Bessie.
I1er young form was as slim and supple, and
graceful as a tall willow; her voice was the
sweetest when she sang, and the charni of
her soft, dark eyes, and the sweet smile of
her red mouth, were irresistible.
squire Renfrew, of the lied Pass was
desperately in love with Bessie, and soughti
to make her his wife, in spite of differenct
in rank. The herds at the Red Pass were
the finest and largest in the neighborhood,
and the barns and storehouses were always
well filled. He was a bachelor, something
over two score years, and he wanted "B3on.
nie Bessie" for his bride
If the lassie thinks she can like me," he
said, addressing Bessie's grandmother. as
he stood under the low brown rafters of the
little . Black Linn cottage, a hot finsh
mounted to the shining crown of his bald
head; "if the lassie thinks she can fancy
me, the bargain's made. I'm willing and
ready to go to the kirk to-morrow; and if a
good, trtme husband and some gold and sil
ver will make her happy, she'll be as happy
as a queen at Red Pass."
Bessie listened with wide, startled eyes,
burning cheeks and quivering lips.
Her grandmother, "aujd Mither Burns,
as the ne;ghbors called her, looked up, with
eager delight in every feature of her hard,
time-worn old face. Such an offer was
more than she had ever dared to dream Qf
for Bessie.
"The lassie will find no trouble about
fancying the likes o' you, Squire Renfrew,"
she answered, rubbing her hands together
and nodding her head up and down. "Sh1e
will jump at the chaicQ of making the Red
Pass her home, and be willing to walk to
the kirk wi' you, whenever you speak the
word. I'll answer for that."
Bessie held her peace, standing, tall and
slim, in a sort of stunned silence, until her
passion was spent.
"Well, 'tis o'er now, and ye'll simmer
down, and keep quiet mebbe," she said.
Then, still chuckling gleefully, "I've let ye
have your say, and now I'll have mine.
We're poor folk, me and you. I found it
hard to get bread, when I had but my own
mouth to feed; and, since, I've been bur
dened wvi' hunger. But I've borne it all,
an' done my best, an' always been willing
to give you a share o' my last crust."
"Ohil but don't ask me to do this,"
-pleaded Bessie.
But I must. You've a chance now to
show your gratitude, and to pay me back.
When you're mistress at the lRed Pass, I
shall have plenty of good victuals, and a
* warm seat in the ingleside corner to the
end ot my days, andl no need to lift a fin
ger."
"u dearest grandma," began "Bonnm
"Now, lookee here, my lass," interrupted
the old woman, lifting her bony finger, and
glowering fiercely upon Bessle; "if ye
are fulo enou' to refuse this good fortin',
that ends It 'twixt us two. You*pack out
of my house, and nc'er cross the threshhold
again."
* fBesslo was silent. The great world be
yond the highland peaks, seemed so dim
and far awvay, and the old home scenes
were so familiar.
The autumn days drifted on, and winter
set lb. A wild, white, cruel, highland
winter. Leaden skies, and lonesomne, wall
Ing winds, and sudden' snow gorms, rush
lng across the hills like white whirlwinds.
Auld Mither Burns fell Ill with rheumatism,
and Bob, the herd's lad, got his arm broken
and the milch cow sickened and died, and
Bessie went to bed suppeSrless many a
*night.
The constant drip of water wears away
tihe solid stone, and the constant pressure
of care, and want, and entreaty, bends the
*stoutest will. Bessle yielded at last, and
on one wild night, when Squire Ronfrew
- came down to Black Linn, she suffered himn
to pumt a ring on her finger.
The very next day the cottage was filled
with all sorts. of comforts; and a week
thcreafter fine garments of lpen, and wool,
and even silk,' were being made tip for
*"Bonnie Beesie;" for in the spring-ttmo she
was to go to the kirkcwith Squire Rlenfrew
and be made his wife.
The spring-time had come, and the wedi
4ing day was close at hand, when one
evening, just before the 'gloaining, ieessie
* went to fill her pit her, as usual, at. the
rocky spring near 'y Shu had accom.
plished -her taali, ha lited the iltcher to
her shoulder, and had started fot the cot
tage, her white, shapely feet twinakling
vrettlly below, the ! short petticoat, as .she
stepped from atone to stone in crossigthe
little brawling stream, when suddenly she
uttered a stifled scream, and, staggering to
a muoss-covered boulder, sat down and put
the pitcher on the ground beside her, pres.
sing her Ifand on her .heont, and trembled
all over. -
"it's his ghaist, it's his ghaiot," she
cried, d i, how sair io. did ioel* at
Whateet 1i e hagl sen -or faelded .she
h4 an tleo wa h p~pgl *e
Cept the overhanging rocks if the glen, the
brook shimmering in the evening light, and I
the white birch trees swaying spectrally
against the sky.
"lie has coins from his grave," she 4
cried, glancing around. "I dare na, dare 1
na do It. Oh! forgive me, Jainie, that I
ever thought o' it."
She drew a silken cord, which encircled
her throat. from her bosom as she spoke,
and kissed the slender hoop of silver which
suspended from it. "I'll never ha' peace
if I marry the squire," she said; 'and I
ought not to ha' it; I shall feel I'm a traitor. I
And poor Jamie. after all I love no one but
you, and never can.'' And sie broke down
in passionate weeping.
"I can't," she sobbed; "I can't keep my
promise. I would sooner die first. I an
just like 'Auld Robin Grey.' Oh, Jamie,
forgive me that I ever thought of it."
The sunset fires (lied out, and the wind
began to chill, yet she sat there still, un
consciout alike of her neglected pitcher and
of her pet dog, who watched her so wistful
ly. The twilight itself failed; the crescent
mnoon came out above: and the bubbling of
the Highland spring filled all the silence.
Suddenly she arose with resolution
stamped on. every feature.
"1 must give the squire his ring again,"
she said,- brushing the last teard from her
eyes. "It is hard for him; but there Is no
other way. Then, Jamie, then you will
forgive ne."
Leaving her pitcher there she tossed back
her abundant locks, as she finished this ad
juration, and went speeding away, through
the falling darkness, with the light foot of
the ehamois.
When she reached the Red Pass, the
bright glow of the ingleside lit the windows.
She approached the nearest one, and placed
her sad, tired, yet resolute face against the
glass.
The squire sat within, pretty, tasteful
things all around him, a happy musing ex
pression on his plain, fatherly face. B3es
sic watched him for a minute, choking
down a fierce sob.
"IIe'd be as good to me as 'Auld Robin
Grey,. " she said, half aloud; but 1-1-ohl
I eaven help me, 1 can't bear to think of
A minute, and she tapped lightly against
the glass. The squire turned quickly,
stared and then started to his feet.
"Well, now, well, now, wbat's tie mean
ing of this?" he cried, rushing across the
room and throwihig up the window. "Bes
siel What has happened?" .
"Something that never should ha' hap
pened," she answered, looking at him with
a sort of desperate dedlance, and drawing
.the gold ring from her finger, as she spoke.
"I've come to give.this back to you, Squire
Renfrew. I was wrong over to let you put
It on."
"Why, child, what do you mean?",
"rake your ring. You have heard of
'Auld Robin Grey.' maybe, have you not?"
"Yes I have. But whet then?"
"Well, I had a Jamie once," she went
on, clutching at the little silver ring sus
pended from her neck, a great throb of
pain shaking her: he gave me this and I
cannot wear any other ring. le-he-went
off to seek his fortune," with another sup
pressed sob, "and he *as lost at sea. I
tried to forget him, but I cannot. I can't
keep my promise to you. Squire Renfrew
--I-I couldn't feel like she did to 'Auld t
Robin Grey'-I should hate you-I should." al
And here she broke down completely.
He took the ring she oftered and paused f
for a moment. A look of unutterable pain 1
and regret came into his kind eyes. r
"So you havo come to tell me this, and i
to ask for your freedom. And you really
think. too, you have seen James' ghaist?"
"Yes, and I shall never return to grand
mother again. I dare not. So I am going
away." 1
IIe laid his hand on her head.
"I am glad you came to tell me, " he said; r
"It Is better that I should know thIs now
than later. I am sorry, Bessie. I had set
my whole heart on making you happy. I
But a b)ird, against its will, hates cage and c
keeper. You are free.''
"God bless you, andl good-bye," she
sobbed.
"Nay, nay," lhe said tenderly, "not good C
bye. Go back to the fold, my poor, pretty 1
lamb: go back to the 'auld grandmother.'d
I will make it all right for you. Never C
you fear."
Greatly wondering the girl retraced her b
steps to Black Linn. The morrow came t
and wIth It appeared thie squire.a
"I have come to beg your pardon,'' lie C
salid, addressing Bessie, but takIng care to 1'
do It in the presence of tihe "grandmother,u
and to ask my liberty back again. I have
changed my nind about taking a wife, f
Mither Burns," and lie turned to the old
lady; "I am better as I am."
.lie took his leave, after a few more words n
and then the old woman, not for one mo- u
men't decived by hisa generous conduct, t
turned on Bessie savagely..
"It Is all your silly capers. I see It all. a
lie loves you so that lhe takes the blame, b
when it Is wholly your fault. Ohl me. 5
Ohil me. I thought to spend my old age
In peace and p)lenty, andl now I am left
to starve, and all because of you, you un
grateful child."
All that night and( all thie next (lay, the r
reproaches went on. Towards 'the gfoami- e
ing, Beasie took-up her pitcheil to go to the t
spring for water, glad to escape, for oven a ri
quarter of an hour, from her grandmother's h
rage., ti
She had half filled her pitcher again, and b~
was again trippIng across the little brek, a
her dog followIng her, when she was a
startled once more: thuis time by Squire ti
Renfrew, however.
"Hie is coming to talke back his words," d
she said to herself; and. she trembled so i
that she almost lost her footlpg-.
"Don't look frighmtend," said.the squire o
klfldly. "I codie W~ithi godd news-news c
you never expected to hear."
She looked at hin breathless, palpitating a
and unable to speak? What could lie mean? d
"The seaman has been hoard from, at ,
last,".ho said, with a spdsmile as tonder a
a caress.
Bessl, uttered a short passionate cry.
"Ohl Jamiol - is he ali'e? It was ne
- ghost then, that I saw?" -
"Let him abaWor.for- himself," sai the I
squtie. 9tepplng ~ide. to. make way for a
tall figure that h4 been>h4cden behind a
- "ioJ, Wdlmg ''mid .the stranger
as hi irattr;sed hpr.
~I4tt4hIdI "avoid -me the ether
night?" said Bossie after a whiles Why
paske gaqthnk Mg~ were Athostl
"I -fad1 hoard of .yourengagement to I
Squ.ire feude ai) A4n vithi jealousy
was here, and he cate to me, and--you
uow the rest."
"Ah, he is the noblest of men," answered
3essie, glancing up from her lover's shoul- d
ier, "and I shall always love him as a "]
>rother." 01
A few days afterward there was a happy hi
narriage at the kirk, Squire Rofrew him- 88
self giving away the bride our "Bonnie 81
Bessie." t1
i
A Fifty cunt Iting.
The other day when a young man had d'
illed off two big mittens from his hands
md stuck one into each pocket and backed Ic
ip to the coal stove lit a Woodward avenue
)etroit, jewelry store, he had still sutllclent
trength to ask if they kept finger-rings
here. The jewelry might just. as well have at
eplied that he did not, but that fhuiger-rings ,I
o.ld be found at any boot and shoe store ;
ret he wanted to make a sale, and ho ans- l
vered:
"We do. What sort of a ring de you i
vant?" e
"It is for a wedding."
"Ah 1 Will you have a single d..uiond st
>r a cluster?" C
"I 'spose you'd want two or three dol- w
ars for a real diamond ?" remarked the lov- n
.
sr, as he advanced to the tray.
Ile was carefully and tenderly Informed
hat diamonds had gone up considerably ,
ince they wero used In his baby rattle-box,
Ind then he concluded to explain:
"I'm kinder down on such nonsense as
vedding-rings. When a fellow has to get
t whole suit of clothes, pay the preacher, t
'omo to town and ride on the street-car and
ill that, It's expense 'nuff. I s'posu though,
L'll have to get one." g
"About what price?" i"l
"Oh, fifty cents or six shillings, or around ti
here. If its kinder gilded up. to last for .
wo weeks, that'll do. It hadn't orter turn h
usty under three or four days. anyhow, as
he'll want to show it off on the street-cars, e
and all the girls will be handling it. I'll ac
ook at the fifty-cent ones first."
The jewelry went into a decline. lie
Ieelined to admit that he ever hadi such aa
hing in his store. He further said that he
ould hardly believe that there was a young c
nan on earth who., would buy a fifty-cent
ing to put on the finger of his bride.
"I)o you 'spose," replied the young man,
1s he reached for his mittens, "do you 'spose hi
'm a John Jacob Astor? Do you 'spose h
'mn going to sell a hull crop of 'taters to
my a ring my wife to wear washin' dishes
id turnin' the coffee-mill ? She's lavin' u
if now to have me buy her shoes, hat, r
uuff,and perfumery after we're married, r
and do you think I can rusli in here and a
oller out 'diamonds!' and slam down wads s
if greenbacks to pay for 'em ?" do
The jewelry leaned his pensive head on
mis hand and looked out of the window, in
nd as the young man opened the door he
malted and continued: t
"Fifty-cent riugi Just as if fifty cents t'
vasn't nothing to'rds a bridle tower ," 0)
i " pt
Coscumes.
It was not until the rise of the Greeks
hat dress, ceasing to be a mer'e exhibition
f its wearer's rank and wealth, became an
xponent of ideas of beauty. This race,
,lways joy and beauty loving, a' first by tli
emperament and afterward from cultiva- B
ion, though devoting less time and labor to PC
lie manufacture of articles of dress than s1
ny of the great peoples, that had preceded, t
r were contemporaneous with it, was the 1n
rst to make a fine art of dress. Discard- as
ig all that was cumbrous, gaudy and un- .se
atural, they adopted costumes which re- in
ain our best models of grace, and, in sim- to
arly climes, of utility. But it must not co
e inferred that the drapery of Grecian art an
; intended as a representation of the dresses itt
orn In the common occupations of life. th
'he drapery of the old Greek sculptors was su
Dunded on artistic principles and ideas- ti
ot on those of practical ulility; while the e
very day dress, beautiful and simple though it
always remnained, was "'conformed to the bI
rotection and comfort of the body, and the ge
onvenience of the wearer." ba
- of
Sermon For 8uniday. an
A little shoceblack called at the residence em
f a clergyman and solicited a piece of m
read and some wvater. The servant was
Lirected to give the child bread from the
rumb-basket, and as the little fellow was
ralking slowing away and shifting the gift tri
etween his fingers for a piece large enough be
chew, tihe minister called hhm back and
sked hun if lhe had ever learned to pray.g
in receiving a negative answer, lhe directed bo
im to say, ''Our Father," but lie could not
nderstand the familiarity. W
"Is It our father-your father-my W
athier?"
"Why, certainly."ti
The boy looked at him awhile and comn
ienced crying, at the same time holding ,
p his crust of bread' and exclaiming be
ween his sobs:
"You say that your father is my father; PC
ren't you ashamed to give your little b
rother such stuff to eat when you have got ori
many good things for yourself?" of
.A Good Joke.
A few days ago a wealthy gentleman of ju,
f Gloveland perpetrated a good joke on his pc
ephew, a young man nammed Lockwood M
miployed in the oficee of Division Superln- yo
ndent Woodford, of the Canada Southern ob~
ad and locatedl at Toledo. The young
ian received a telegram from the uncle
alling him to come to ClovIand at once,
ut offering no explanation. The young
ian responded. The uncle, looking stern as
ad angry, met him at the depot and said ric
him, "Come to my office at once." The w
oung mian trembling in his boots and won
ering what he had done to anger his relas. shi
ye, followed. At the office the uncle la
anded him a document and a fierce tone ou
f voice said, "Head that I" It was a deed gr
onveying a houB? and lot .In oneoof the Lh
lost pleasant portions of the city to the wl
stonished nephew. Then the 01(d uncle sat fil
own and laughed until his side ached. It fe:
mas a good joke and cost the p)erpetrator
~10,000 -________ th
-Coal in. tho United StBates.' la
ar
It Is stated that the consumption of coal- bt
a the United States.ercedhag twenty mil- he
ion tons in twelvenmonths has been attained
nly twice--In 1875 and in 1877; but the Is
ggregate this year alreafIy largely exceed4 dr
hat amount. The rapid improvement in th
ho Iron manufacture, the opening of -hn to
Ireds of furnaces and mianufacturing ei- to
ablishments which 'hateo. been idle for in
rears, au4 the increased employment of .w
alfo fuel' by persons whose purchases p
mave bde~ :limited durig the pat .few
rears by beuar 6ncraie, .caused
he demand;to, b38 iU antft o d the lg
l*nectations of the mest kapefu) anaratrs. hi
Thrbo Oymters.
"Are you in a hurry ?"a Brooklyn oyster
aler inquired of a man for whom he was
)ening his third oyster. The man had
dered a dozen, and was plainly in haste,
it seeing that a lady had entered the
loon, he said that ho had plenty of time,
id began to munch broken crackers until
0 oyster man was again ready to wait
)nn him.
"What can I do for you, ma'am ?" the
aler inquired, turning to the lady.
"Are your codfish fresh ?" the new cus
imer demanded, looking suspiciously at
ime large ones on the board.
"Only two hours out of the water," the
aler answered, "hardly dead yet. Only
x cents a pound."
"Weigh that one for me," the lady said.
he fish weighed yive pounds ; that was too
rge; another weighed two; but that was
o sma:l. A third weighed three antI a
ilf ; that was just iight ; but the lady had
ianged ier mind and preferred haddock.
his, also, was six cents, and a fish of
itable weight was ston found ; but four
ate a pound was all that tne customer
as willing to give. Moreover, she had
w set her heart upon smelts, and as there
is none in the saloon, she turned her at
ution to oysters. f
"I want them fbr frying," she said.
[low much are they a hundred ?"
"A dollar and a qbarter," was the reply ;
mnd cheaper at tliut than you canl get
em anywhere else in the city."
"Then open fity for ne, if you please,"
e lady said. *
"Will you allow uie to attend to this
ntleman nrat ?" the denier asked, point
g to the man who had been obliged to
ke a recess after eating three oysters.
"Certainly not," the lady said snap
shly. "I'm in a hurry," and as the man
ud by this time finished nearly all the
ackers am(, in a great measure, lost his
>petite for oysters, lie said, politely, that
was willing to wait.
The fifty oysters were opened, and,
ter closely examining them, the lady said :
"Now, I don't mind giving you fifty
nts for those if you will paste them over
ith flour and egg, and fix them up for
ying just as they do in Fulton Market."'
'Tlie dealer breathed very hard as he
oked at his unpromising customer. "Per
ips," he said, "you would like me to go
your house and cook them for you."
Without another word the lady gathered
her gloves, handkerchief and reticule,
stored her purse to!its place in the latter
ceptacle, and, best6wing upon the dealer
look of combined scorn and indignation,
rept out of the saloon.
"Well, women is queer creatures," the
aler muttered, as he looked at the reced
g form. "Skinflints all of 'em. 1
)uldn't trust my own wife where a bar
in was to be had:" And he turned around
find the man who had eaten the three
aters. Buthat,persou had forgotten to
y for the 'oysters, emptied the bowl of
oken crackers and gone out.
A Home Seal.
Major Urch, last week hauled up on the
e river bank near his house at Newcastle
'idge, Conn, the tank in which he kept a
ir of seals last summer; and one of the
nls having a short time ago died, sadly
rned the other adrift in the river, l'art
with it in much the same frame of mind
a.man parts with a favorite dog, The
%l much more gentle and affectionate than
my dogs, at first made use of its liberty
have a good swim around in the river,
ming up alongside of every boat it saw,
d saluting the suprised occupants with
whistling cry; but at length, tiring of
is, it turned to the bridge only to find its
mmer home gone. For about four hours
e homeless seal hunted for its tank,
incing distress at not being able to find
as planly as a dog shows trouble when
master is In trouble when his master is
ne; but at last it saw its tank on the
nk, and with extravagant demonstrations
joy flopped across the interi-ening beach
d clamored into its loved habitation, now
tirely free of water, and there It still re
tined th~e last wet heard.
The Second Slid.
At the Larned street horse market, Do
>it, the boy led out a bundle of flesh and
nes, and the auctioneer his box and be
ni:
"HIarkl 'What was that? DId some
dy say one hundred and fifty dollars, or
is it the sighing of the wind? Very
ill--give me'a bid. This is a horse. I'll
irrant it to be. Detroiters are known
i world over as modest men, but don't
that feeling prevent you from making
e of the best bargains ever offered In this
irket. Who bids:"
"Fifteen centsl" screamed the auctioneer
lie wheeled--around. "Where are the
lice? Who dares make that offer? What
so caitiff has wormed lia way into this
>wd to insult me and injure the selling
this poor animal?"
"Twmenty cents!" cried another voice.
"AhI that proves that I did net mis
:lge this crowd when I said it was comn
sed of gentlemen, and the horse is yours.
ike change hero with the clerk and take
ur prize away before he falls dead and
structs the sidewalk."
Hoeusehold Irecorations.
Mahogany is coming -into fashion again
the leading wood for furniture. It is
her than walnut, and excels all other
ods in durabihity.
The fashionable table ornaments of a
nple kind are pressed fern inats, made by
ring pressed ferns in a circle. They.point
tward, one uplon another, the sizes being
aduated from large to very small. Upon
ese mats are set little wheel-barrows . out
th a fret-saw out of white wood and
led with moss and flowers and small
ms.
Rugs for bed-room floors'are more sought
amp before. T[he fashio;i of carpets is
-gely kept up by the wretched floors that
e to be found in the majority of houses,
.t for bOdroofne, ufrige on ihe score of both
alth and labor saving are preferred.
Th. novelty shown this wInter in carpets
a huge rug to be laid over the ordinary
awIng room or library,c1arpet.3 It is sty led
e Smyrna carpet and is from half an inch
an inch in thlt,kness. It. cost. from $8
$10 per square yard. 'Next after these
point of' expense are the Persian rugs,
iich are. not bandsokne, but are. at ile
esent time fashionable.
-Miss Leh -is and.b4i Amerloau
y wh6 ls to marry a noblemane Her
ideroo isPrince Galitsia.
IIalf a dozen stalwart hoises' pulled a
wa.gon into the yard of the Bush 11111 Iron
Company, at Twentieth and Buttonwood
streets, Philadelphia. On the wagon were
four cannon. They were so red that at a
distance they might have been taken for
rolls of clay. A close inspect ion proved,
however, that. they were covered with a
thick coat of rust., so thick, in fact, that
large pieces could have been chipped out in
some parts with a pen-knife. A hundred
years ago, between Warwick and Valley
Forge, a charcoal iron furnace was in opera
tion. It was known as the "Potts" furnace,
from the fact that, it was owned by a family
of that name. Hero the cannon was
moulded into form, and here they were
lying in 1777, but a few days before the
battle of Brandywine. tien. Anthony
Wayne was connected with the Potts family,
and fearing that the cannon might fall into
British, hands, sent a request, only a day
before that niemorablo battle, that they
might be hid beyond the possibility of dis
covery. How to comply with this request
was a matter which much puzzled the hon-.
cat Pottses. Finally they hit uponl a device.
There was a swamip in the meadows a short
distance away, and there it was determined
to inter the guns. Oxen were procured,
and the iron weapons were dragged across
the field and were allowed to siik down
deep in the mud. There they was safe
from being counted with the British spoils.
'"r the last hundret years the Potts family,
ac generatiott succeeding another, has re
.nained on the homestead. and the story of
the buried cannon has been handed down.
In 1875 the idea of recovering them occur
ed to the present, representtaive of the race,
and before the year had closed the cannon
were above ground. One of the four wio
in such a good state of preservation that a
six-pound charge of powder was fired out
of it on the first day of the Centennial year.
Recently Mr. Potts conceived the idea of
selling the entire lot to a furnace owner,
and, in spite of the remonstracces of his
neighbors, who declared that it would be
gross sacrilege to destroy such historic
articles, he carried out his idea. The can
non will be melted preparatory to being
turnfed into rolling mill machinery.
Rules of Hospitality
As soon after your guest's arrival as poss
ible saddle him with every one of your bob
bies and ride him to exhaustion.
If you are a public speaker, rehearse to
him half a dozen of your longest and driest
speeches. It will give you good pi actice.
Friends should be utilized.
If you are addicted to writing, read to
him everything of yours that you can lay
your hands on.
Tell him about your business troubles and
when he would speak of his pleasant trip
to the mountains cut him off with a diag
nosis of your internal ailments.
Of course you will show him through
your library; but do not allow his mind to
become absorbed in any one volume to the
neglect of the others. That would be emi
nently unjuot to the others. Ie might
be pleased to find a favorite, perhaps; but
if you give way to his wishes, he may go
away uihmpessed by the magnitude and
versatility of your literary wealth.
But by all means have passages ready to
turn to in the more pretentious works, to
read to your guest. Not only will you sur
prise him by your intimacy with literature,
but you will also give him a taste of your
elocutionary attainments.
Be sure to explain everything you read.
It isn't to be supposed that many people have
your powers of intuition'. It wero i(11 to
IXpect it.
Yake him feel at home by following your
)wn unual course at home. Rehearse all
the harrassments of the (lay at your place
:f business.* It must act upon him In one
nf two wvays. Either it, will remund him of
liimself In his home, and therefore make
lum feel at home indeedt, or it will call up
the .ights of his own serene business life,
inade all the more pleasant when thus fav
srab)ly contrasted with your own.
If the children crawl Into his lap and be
liaub him with their molasses-covered fin
gers, showv yourself an indugn( aetb
non-interference. lugnpaetb
Should they attempt thme same thing with
you, aunothier phase of fatherly duty may be
illustrated. Show that witlr all your indul
ent love you can be firm on occasion. Box
heir ears warmly.
It is goodl manners to yawn occasionally,
~specially if by some mischance your guest
Fall into the reprehensible practice (for a
guest,) of talking about something interest
nig to himself. It shows him the large
unount of self-dienial you are exercisinig,
hat lie may be entertained
Never forget that, as lie who goes to
3rece is expected to do as the Greeks do,
me the guest who enters your house should
lccommimodate himself to his surroundings.
le wouldn't expect the Greeks toun-Greek
hemselves becguse lie happened to be in
heir midst, would he?
Follow these rules religiously, and we as
mnre you that nonne others will be needed.
They will serve for all the guests you will
3ver have.
Cetowayo and the Conjuror
D)r. Hlolden, the court mnagician and
"wizard of the wicked world, ' obtained
permission ( ir Blartle Frere, the govern
nor, to give the captive king an entertain
nent in his prison at time old Dutch castle.
A.ccordingly, theO doctor drove tip in a cab,
and made his necessary arrangements at thme
far end of a long, barn-like room, divided
off into two or three apartments, in one of
whIch were the ex-king's three wives, at
tended by a young Zulu girl, enjoying their
Liffen or dinner. If "beauty unadorned Is
idorned the miost," no one need cavil at the
way those ladies were dressed. They seem
to object to the pomps amnd vanities of this
wicked world, and wear a few beads-and
i smile. However, this being a red-letter
dlay they soon afterwards appeared with a
povering of some light material over theIr
shoulde and took their seats on a wooden
m.ool, w,ell to the back of lisa majesty, as If
thef~ were afraid of the wIr,ard who had
previously 6reated an'imprssion~ on them by
lnding eg In thel' ornamnts. The half
dozen, mnore' or'less, attendaints squatted on
the grounid, the o nce-dreaded - e king dai
na Windsor chair, antd tI'e seamnce began.
Oeetyo u~nmst bbe caplimented on his good
laste in slecting the feo wies he un
dragged im'to'Ocaptite'ith him, fer fider de
eloped lIlack Wommn i~ we id be 'difUbu1t
~n ona ay1h W hg
wr.to have, 11'a woldi,
foiach ofS hI% bit$ 6e on five.
feot eletop inehg high. (hA etm eattle
Wal. alomr the4ddihats -fw ~t
king Is allowed to walk, guarded by two
sentries, is the royal engineer stores, so that
escape would seem out of the question, un
less very artfully planed; but from the re
seigned and comfortably appearance of the
prisoner we should say that he is quite con- i
tent to remain as he is until, in the words
of the immortal Micawber, "something turns I
up.' It may interest some to know that
his weakness Is "a litlc drop of summot" 1
in the shape of half a pint or more of gin a
day, and that, on this particular day he was
not quite himself, having been indisposed
during Ire morning. Imagine a jovial
looking, perfectly black member of the mas
cuhuc gender, in a Moses &. Sons reduced
prico blue serge suit, with a billycock hat
(like those worn by agricultural labors in
.ngland), well-formed, intelligent, and all
there, and you have a correct idea of the
noted despot. Ile gave one the opinion that a
he was there to find out every trick on the
programme, and he did his loval best to do 1
so. It would not do to perform any illusion
on the table ; no, it must be brought close I
to him. That would not always do elthei t
he mtust hold the conjurer's hand while he
did his trick, and place the article on the 1
floor before him. Card tricks and the dic- 1
tionary trick were above his comprehension.
Pure sleight-of-hand, the producing of full
bowls of water and fish, tumblers of wine
and a bowl of fire from an empty cloth
pleased him much; also allowing hin to
load'a pi tol, place a leaden bulie: in It him- [
:elf and then firing at )r. Holden's head
sent him into eestacies, which increased
when the performer passed a dagger and
afterward a long cavalry sword through his
body ; The yells of delight at these illusions
were most ludicrous and the amusement
afforded was great
Scaratina.
Of course, a physican must direct the
treatment of this dangerous disease. Our
hints are meant to put the friends of the
patient into more intelligent co-operation
with him. separate the patient from the
rest of the family. ilemove from the room
all unnecessary furmtture, clothing, books,
etc. Let the room, as far as vossible, be
kept well ventilated and disinfected.
Change the bed linen frequently, but al
ways disinfect them in connection with the
washing. Inslead of handkerchiefs, etc.,
use pieces of cotton cloth about the patient,
and burn theni as fast as used. Thoroughly
disinfect everthing that comes from the
.patient. Keep the temperature of the room
low-not above 59 degrees Fahr--until the I
patient begins to complain of feeling chilly,
which lie will do as soon as the fevor sub
sides, or if the case is i unit one. Sponge I
the body tw' or three times a (lay with t
tepid water, or with cold, if the fever is
high. While the inflammation of the t
mouth continues, a slightly astringent gar
gle may be used, and the mouth rinsed
with sonic cleansing fluid. The patient
may have fresh water or lemonade for t
drink; and milk and thin soups for a diet,
until the (ever is over, when he should
have good nourishing food, care being I
taken not to let the stomach be overloaded. t
The bowels throughout should be kept
regular, cither by fruits or medicine.
For the inflammnation of the throat, apply 1
frequently cold dressings to the neck, or
let the patient lake into his mouth pieces
of ice. Let the patient reman in bed un
ill the removal of the scarf-pin is complete,
Otherwise inflanimnaion of the kidneys
may set in.
Among the Romans.
When the good Governor 8----, who Is
a most devout Episcopalian, was the Chief
Magistrate of Kentucky, lie was wont, to
frequently entertain the member of the Gen
eral Assembly at the Governor's Mansion.
To one of these levees came, with the mem
ber from his county, an okt mountaineer
who had just reached FArankfort with the raft
of logs which lie had b'rought dlown the
Kentuicky River. The old man, who wes
called famniliarly ''Uncle Johnny," soon1 be
caime the centre of an admiring group, to
whlomi his jean clothes were not at all an
implrop)er attire for the Governior's levee
and Is tongue being loosed by a glass of
sherry wilne, which lie then tastedI for the
first time in his life, lie was entertaining hIs
audience withi stories from "his county,"
wheni the Governor app)roachedl.
"Uncle Johnniiy, here Is the Governor,"
saidl one of the company; and .straightway
the 0o(1 nia was silent, for lie was over
whehnued by this first vision of the majesty I
of the Commionwelth.
"oho with your s-ory, Uncle Johnny," I
saild sonme one; "the Governor, will like to
hear it."
"Yes, go on, Uncle Johnny," said the o
Governor, with a kindly smile of encourage. p
meat : andl the old nman, thus convinced that
even the Governor was also a man, conclud- di
ed1 lis narratIve. si
TIhien becominag bolder hi' ventured to ad- o
dress the Governor, saying, "Guvnor, I went c
to your mleeting ylstiddy, and I seen whar
you sets." 1
iIe had been to the Episcopal Church, and r
hiad been shiown tIhe Governor's,pew. n
"D)id you, Uncle Johnny?" responded I.
Governor S-.---. "Anid how did you like
it?"
"Well, Guvnor, I never knowved much 01
what they .was a-dloln', but I rim and fell s
wvithi 'em every tinme."
The Telephone and the Baby.
A telephonic story of Ameriean life has n
just been repeated to me, with an assur- 'y
ance of Its truth, and as IllustratIng the fua-p
turo of Mr. IBell's recent Invention. A
proud grandmamma, who has only just a
been promioted to that happy relationship, y
Is awakened In the dead of night by the o
Inexorable hell. "Mamma, dear," comes ti
to her the frightened voice of her beloved y~
but Inexperienced daughter, "I am sure a
baby has the croup. What shall I do with
It?" G3ranidmammia replies that she wIll h
call the family (ototr and be with her anx- b
Ious daughter In a moment. She awakens e
the doctor and tells him the terrible news u
sh6 has learned from her dAuighter. He In tu
is turn reqnests to be Pitt in telephonic ,e
communication wIth the t,e anxion* mami
ina. "Lift the child to the. telephone aVid a
let me hear It,cough," he denShnds. Ther i
child is lifted and It c6mhs. "That's not-n
'the etoup,' he deolares ,ad he deoea t tl
leave: his hetise on Suc 181 tt84. ' d
advises gandm nlna alsol ipaIy1 In? h
and al klty ueted tu Io settledown
FOOD FOR TIHOUGHT.
Life i8 too short for its possessors to
ear long faces.
We hand folks over to God's merey
)ut show none ourselves.
Happily for little men the giants
tave seldoin any great wit.
Self.inspection is the only means to
)reserve us from self-conceit.
It. is right to be contented with what
ye have, not with what we are.
le that pryeth into every cloud may
>e stricken with a thunderbolt.
Mind your tongue! Don't let it
peak hasty, cruel, or wicked words.
Never exhibit atnger, impatience or
xeitenent when an accident occurs.
Never pass between two persons who -
re talking togetherwithout an apology
Vice stings us even in our pleasures
ut virtue consoles us oven in our pains
A virtuous person seldom, knowing
y places hinmself in the way of temp
ation.
The miser is the man that lives like a
meggar - because he is afraid of dying.
Ike one.
T.'e integrity of mnen is to be meas
tred by their conduct, not by, their
>rofessions.
Aul that is wise has been thought al
eady; we must try, however, to think
t again.
The man who combats with himself,
vill be happier than be who combats
vitl others.
Never enter at room noisily; never
all to close the door after you, and
me' vr . .wui it.
1 " 'how their character in nothing
nore clearly than by what. they think
aughable.
Some folks are so full of envy they
an't enjoy what little good they pos
ess themselves.
No books are so legible as the flives of
lie n; no characters so plain aas their
oral conduct.
Fools are useul animals, for half the
visdom wise men acquire comnes from
heir blunders.
There are few doors through which
iberality, Joined with good humor,
annot find its way.
'Tis with our jud^gments as with our
ratches, none are just aiike, yet each
ielieve his own.
A year of pleasure passes like a
loating breeze, but a moment of muts
ortune seems anl age of pain.
No matter can afford the luxury of
iating people. It brings its revenge
o the hater's own heart and life.
No grander thing can a man do than
o give a helping hand to a young man
rho has become discouraged.
After friendship and love come bone
olenco and that compassion whieh
unitus the soul to the unfortunate.
I once knew a man who had advan
ed to such a pitch of self-esteem that
e never mentioned himself without
uking ofl his hat.
We choose a friend for no particular
xcollenee in themselves, but merely
roim soei circumstance that flatters
ui" self-love.
There Is a gift that is almost a blow,
nd there is ma kind word that is muni.
leenee; so much is there In the way
ve (10 timings,
Speak the truth; yield not to anger;
ive when asked, of the little thou hast;
ty these three steps thou shall go near
he gods.
Though the life of a man falls short
hundred years, he gives himself as
ruch pain and anxiety as if he were to
ivo a thousand.
Who will feel the tenderest partici
ation in joy let him not look at happy
h ildren, but at the parents who rejoice
e see them happy,'
Though the word and the spirit do
lie maid work, yet suffering so un boits
lie door of the heart that both thme
lord and the spirit have entrance,
True friendship is a plant of slow
:rowth, and must undergo and with..
mand manny shocks of adversity before
isl entitled to the appellation.
A maui need only correct himself
pith the same rigor that ho repr~ehends
thers and excuse othere with the same
idulgenco he shows'to lhmself.
Kindness is stowed away in the heart
ke rose leaves in a drawer, to sweeten
very object aroundl them, and to bring
ope to the weary hearted.
Work Is a necessity in one way or
nother to all of us. Overwork Is of
ur own making, and, like all self..ln..
osed burdens, Is beyond our strength.
Society Is like a glass of ale-the
regs go to the bottom thi,. frot,h and
um to the surface, and the substance,
r the bettor portion, remains about theo
entro.
Laziness grows on people; it begins
'm cobwebs and ends in eksins. The 4
oro business a man has to do, the
tore ho Is able to accomplish, for he
3arns to economize htis time.
The surest way to make ourselves
greeable to others is by deeming to
Iink them so. If we appear fully sen
Ible of their good qnalities, they will
ot complain of the wvant of them in us.
Don't start int life withmout an aim.
olnt at something and.go straight fort
. If you live an aimless life you will
over amount to anythiug and vilt
raste whatever talent and energy you ,
ossess.
The reason why great men' meet with
a little pity or attaebmen$ in adverel
y', would seem to be this: .The friends ~~
f a great man were made by lisa fore
aines, his enemies by himself, and rego
cnge is a mnuch mnore pumnetuaI payet
aster than. gratitude.
Th.e point of aim for eur vigilanOe to
old in, view, is to dwell upon th
p to be peased with th~ pres~u
pamtanees sturotgng IIh se
la g w it *c Vt o a ome
amd, as If tOshow 'thath hd~0 d
ot depend nphyelaal e
se equntrie;t-nos
ayso(Aagtuse~~