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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., JULY 10, 1880. VOL. IV.-NO.83. THE DAWN WILL COME. The night may be dreary and sombre and sad, And swlitly may speed the wild raok in tho -sky ; The. oeau may soar on the wave-beaten shore But the dawn of the bripht golden morning Is nigh I The tempeat may gather and thunder may roll. And the friglited birds hido from the light ning's shoeni But far in the East, from its slumbers ro!eased, - The dawn of the bright golden morn.ng is seen i The bitterest sorrow may gather around, And banish the smile to give place to a tear; But time will relieve all who tremble and grieve, For the dawn of the sweet-smiling mor.ing is near I Ti on do not despair, 0 ye weary and sad, For jay will disperso o'en the shade of a sigh : Bright days will come back, and the night and the rack Will floo when the dawn of the morning is nigh - The Cross Words. 'Lucy, it you mean to sew on this but ton, I do wish you'd do it-I can't wait all day.' Tom didn't speak a bit cross, only em phatic: but I was out of temper that morn Ing, and my head ached badly from sitting up the night before. Tom had gone to a sup per-for the second time since our marriage -given by 8omtu of his bachelor friends, and had come home the worse for it. It had provoked mne intensely. So I. had to follow him to bed in solemn silence, and awoke none the better pleased after my sleep on the morning just alluded to. 'lo make the matter worse, just as ho spoke to me about the buttoo, the knife with which I was cutting the.bread for his lunch slip. ped, inflicting a decep gash on my hand, and the baby awoke and set up her sharp little cry from the cradle, all in the one and the same moment. 'You can't wait as long as I did laqt night, I reckon, 'I replied sharply, really angry at last. 'Don't hurry me-I do all I can, and more more than I am able to do with one pair of hands.' Toni dropped his button and turned to ward me with a startlcd 'Why, Lucy I' 'Don't Lucy me,' I retorted, throwing down the bread and catching up the baby, while the blood streamed from my hand over her white gown. 'You've done enough-you've broke my heart I I wish I had never seen yod-I wish I was back again with my father and my mother.' 1 broke down with a burst of hysterical tears, and seeing t'he blood on my hand, Tom came over and knelt down beside meV. 'Why, Lucy,' ie said, his vo:ce a-ad eyes full of tenderness, 'you've cut your hand. Why didn't you say so? IIere, give me the child while you bind it up-see how it bleeds.' IIe held out his hands for the baby, but I snatched her away and went on sobbing. , 'Don't cry, Lucy,' he continued, strok ing the hair back from my forehead 'please don't; I know I have done wrong, dear, but I didn't mean to. I fell in with some of the old boys, and they persuaded me against my will. But it's the last time.' Why didn't I turn to hini then and help and encourage him? Because my mean, tyrannous temper got the better of my woman's heart. 'Oh, yes.' I said, sncerkngly, 'it Is easy enough to make fine, promises- -you told me the same thing before. How can you expect me to trust you now?' Tom was spirited and quick-tempered: great, loving-hear'ted men always are. IIe sprang to his fe thike a flash,and before I had mime to spe'ak eor think, had left tine rooim. I tossed the child into tihe cradlle, and ran to the (leer, but it.w~as too late, lie had gone. I just caught a glimpjse of him turning the corner. 1 wvent back to the little b)reakfast room; how blank and( dIrear it looked, and what a sharp, stinging thorn there was in. the very core of my heart 1 1 lovedl Tom and lhe loved me. We had been married only eighteen months, and' this was our first quarrel. I siat dIown with the baby In my arm heedless of my morning work, andl fell to thinking. All the old happy (lays came back, and 0one In p)articular, when we sat In Dubrry woodl. It was in autumn, and all the world seemedl In a blaze of gol, a the sun sid1 (dowli and the squirrels cliat tiredl overheadl, dlropp~ing a ripe nut nowv and1( then into my lap, as I sat there with the last rose of surnmer in iiy haIr, knit -ting a purse for Tomn. 'Lucy,' lie said, as I wove In the last golden stitches, 'you've knit my love-my very life-upi in that purse. Tell me now, before you finis It, how is it to be ? Am 1 to have you and-oh I I wvont think of it even, Lucy, it would be too dlreadful.' 'No, Tom,' 1 answered, 'you are t.o have the purse, and the hand that knit it too.' Poor Tom, lie criedl then just like a child -ie, the bravest m,an in.the village. "No fault in him, only a little too wild, too fond of gay company , bumt you must Lame him, Lucy, as your mother did( me.'' Th'lat was my 01(1 father's advice on our wedding (lay. My heart smote m-e dread fully as I recalled It to my mind that meo eng. Had I(1done my (duty ? H ad I followed tihe example of my mother, who never let fall an unikind word?i But Tom wou.d be home to his dimner. TIhe thought brought me to my feet. I did miy work briskly, and went about cooking just such a dIinner as I knew lhe iked. The plumil pudding was dlone to per'fection; the baby In a clean slip, and myself all smiles to receive him when the clo6k struck one. Buit lie did(n't come, I put, by the unated dinner and prepared supper, anid lit a bright lire in the little par lor. IIe should have a pleasant Veteome. But ho did iiot come. EIght, 0, 10 o'clock, and I put by time untasted supper, tind baby and I wenit lip to thme nursery to 'wait and watch. How the little thiorni in my heart piercedl and rankledh. Tom had broken hIs promise, and my unkindhness was the causol Nothing~ else rang in my ears throngh time long hours. About 2 o'clock I heard a noIse below and( wvent to the wlindow. . reo WA a man on then porch I could see hhi I the (him light. 'r'omi, is that you?t' I asked softly, put ting out my head. 'Yes; open tihe door, Jiuey; qujck, the police are after mo.' Elv heart sunk. 'h pnulee afte hnn I what could lie have done? I ran down swiftly and unlocked the door. But as I did so, too men, wearing official badges, stopped upon the porch, and one of tnem laid his hand on Tom's shoulder and said - '1 arrest you, sir.' 'For what ?' 1 cried. 'For murder.I The floor seemed sliding from beneath my feet, but, I caught at the door to steady myself and looked at Tom. At that instant, the offlcer uncovered his lantern, and, oh, God I there was blood' on my husband's hands. All the rest is a blank. When I came to myself again, 1 was In my room, and kind compaosionate faces were around me. I asked for Tom Ile was in prison, await ing his trial. There had been a quarrel at the tavern; and Tom had struck his an tagonist. The man wasn't dead, though they thought he was at first-but lie was badly hurt about the head. But if he re covered--well, it would not go so hard with Tom. I arose and went to the priron; but they would not admit me. No one to was to. see my husband till after the trial. Another day crept by, a night, and when morning came, I went down to the door and opened it, with a vague feeling of expecta tion which always accompanies severe afflictions, and looked out. The sun was rising grandly and brightly over the black stone jail. 'The frost hung thick and spark ling ovel everything, even on the scrap of folded paper that lay at my feet. I stopped and picked it up idly, as we catch at a straw or a twig sometimes, without any motive or power of volition. The super scription caught my eye; IC was my own name, and my husband's handwriting. I tore ti open and read: DEAR I,CY-i have broken out of jail, and am going-well, no matter where. I didn't strike Hastings with an intention to kill him. - I was intoxicated, and it was more his fault than mine; but he may die, 4nd then-at any rate, it is for you, Lucy, for me to go. I never was worthy of your love. Now you can go back to your father and forget me and be happy. You will find the bonds for that nioney I have in the bank in the desk; it is enough to make you and the child comfortable. For give and forget me, Lucy. God bless you --you and the baby. T OM. rhis was the end I This was the reward that my cross word had purchased for me ! Truly, truly, the wages of sin are death. We shall no. need one panI o? co -poiat punishment, one spark of real tire, to per fect our torment if we are lost. Conscience Is all-sufficient-remorse, that worm that never dies. It is not for me to talk about what I suffered in the days that followed that morning I Words could not express it, save to one who had passed through the same furnace of affhiction. But I lived. for sorrow and death rarely walk in each other's steps, and nursed my baby, and did the work my hands had to do. I did not go back to my father. I remained at Tom's h>mie, and kept his things all about me, even his cap hanging on the wall. Forget him? )oes l-ve ever forget? IIastings did not die. He recovered and made a public statement. Hle was more in fault than Tom was. Then he put a notice in all the papers, telling Tom to conic back; but lie did not come. The winter passed away with long, long nights of bitter remorse, and tender recol lections of the dear husbiiiid whose strong arnis had once been my stay and support; the spring came-the summer-another winter; three years went by-crept by. My child, Tom's little baby, grew to be a fairy little thing, with blue eyes and golden hair and a tongue that never wearied of its childish prattling. All day long she sat on the door-step, where the evening sunbeams slanted in lisping to hr doll and listening, while I told her of the father who would come back to ui solite day. For surely he wvouild come. Most surely God's mercy would vouchsafe some com pensation, sonic pardon for such repentance as my soul had poured forth. Thie third spring was peculiar ; somehow the far-off sky seimed to drop down in nearer, b:u r folds ; the sun wvore a softer radliance ; the trees, the grass, the flowers, a (diviner, tenderer beauty. I rose every morning and looked out of my little window at the kindling glories of the mor, withn, a feeling of strange, tremulous expectation. I seemed to feel the shiadow of sonmc great event that winged as a light above me-ono prayer of my heart seemedl about to be answered.* One cveping-oh, that evening I A May sky, soft andl blue, hung over a green blossoming earth; the turtle dove cooed in the distant wod and the robin twittered to her young brood amid the milky bloom of the orchard. God's love shone in the gol den brightness of the westward going sun. My child, little Efille, sat on the doorstep talking to her (loll and watching the birds. All at onee she clapped her dimpled hainds and bounded to her fee. 'Mammy,' she criedl gleefully, 'pappy comin'-pappy comin'; Eice go meet I' The wvords stIrred my heart to Its utmost depths ; and dropping my work I followedl her out of thme door. A man was comning up time garden pathi-his garments tattered, his step slow and uncrtain. A beggar, no doubt. I called Efie to conme back, but she ran -on heedless of my command. Tom's little spaniel that I had petted and takeni care of for his sake, darted from, his kennel with a peculiar cry such as I never heard from It before. What (lid it all mean?9 My heart throbbed and my knees trembled. Little Efile ramn on, holding out both dimpled hands, her golden curls blown all about her rosy face. "[How-dc-do, pappy ? I'so your EllIe,." she lisped, as she reached time man's feet. Ho stooped and raised her in lis arnms and then glanced, on eme. And such a glance-such a facelI Pale, haggard, worn by sorro*' and suffering to a mere shadow. Tom's ghost conme back from the -grave I Not that either, for my arms graspedl some taingible fornm. 'Ob, Tom,'. I cried, Is it you?i Speak, speak, and tell me l'" 'Yes, Lucy, it's me. I.could bear it no longer. I'm (lying, I believe-and I couldii't go without seeing you and the lIttle one again.' My arms held him fast, tattered garments and all; my kisses fell on hik poor pale face like rai. I wouki never let hihm g>again. 'Tom, Tom,' I sobbed, getting dIown on my knees beside him, "oh forgive me I I have suffered so much.' 'it is me that must ask torgiveness, Lucy,' lhe said humbly, 'not you ; 1 was wrong-' .But 1 stopped him short. 'No, Toni, my cross word dudl't all, bt for that we might have been happy togeth( .all these weary years.' 'Mammy, mammy,' interposed Efi twisting herself around on her father shoulder, 'don't cry no more; pappy come back.' Yes, thank God, he has come back, pool tattered and hungry--like the prodigal but my Tom, my husband, neverthelest I would never speak cross to him an more. It is springtime again. The sweet Ma sunlight steals in at my window as I writ and I hear the turtle down in the distau wood. My husband Is a man now, stant ing up proudly, his feet uponl the grave c old temptation. I know that God's more is equal to Ills justice, and Ills love greater than either. Life On The Ocean Wave On every steamer ploughing its w. across the Atlantic there are always severt passengers who never miss a single one c the five meals served each day. In th internni between breakfast, lunch, dinne tea, and supper, they smoke heavy blac cigars-cabanas, we think-on the upp( deck. They throw seafaring glances alol for these folks are nothing if not nautical they indulge in bets on how many knots a hour; it is never twelve o'clock or si o'clock with them, but so many belit They even know the binnacle by sighl At night in the grand saloon, they laug and talk and play cards with ia sort of ur holy glee. If one of them chances to pai your open state-room door just befoi breakfast, you are immediately consclot of a penetrating aromatic odor in the ali You vaguely recognize it as the odor of morning beverage which you knew in bat pier days, but do not greatly care f< now. we did not make the personal acjualntanc of any of these abnormal beings on boar Her Majesty's Cunard steamship "Abyi sinia," for, though we had been used to tlh sea all our lives-had,in fact,barely escape boing born on it-we lay deathly sick in th bei th from the tiue we left Sandy Hoo Light until we sighted the Irish coasl Let us hope that in the meanwhile tl reader was happy on (leek, and had su fered no sea change. A conversation which 'we happened t overhear one night in the state-room a( Joining ours is the only detail we can giv of the voyage across the Atlantic; but it I a detail not without significance. idee it presents the whole situation in a nul shell. For the first three days out the sea ha, been remarkably smooth, "as smooth n glass" Captain Haines observed. With th exception of an occasional imprompt; plunge into a.brother passenger, you coul pace the deck quite comfortably, provide, you could pace it at all. Out of politenes to the pleasant weather, the sky-light c the main saloon had not been closed Taking advantage of this ciratumstance, heavy sea broke over the stern-rad on midnight and deposited about fifty barrel of ocean wave in the cabin. The hurric shuilling of feet on deck, and the shriek fron the inundated berths on the pirt sid< awakened everybody. Presently I heard feeble voice uplifted int the state room nex to Iine-evidelitly (he voice of a Briton "Fwedwick-av-I say--what's up? "Nothing at all, my boy. We onl: shipped a sea." "What a beastly Ideah I" "G0o to sleep." "Aw-yes-but I carn't you kno*." Silence. The wind had sensibly fresh ened, and the ship began pitching in most disagreeable fash,on, now and the giving a roll to leeward to siow what. I could do in that line. In one of those e reerings the ponderous screw, missing it grip on the water, quivered convulsivel through all its length, and for an instati the great iron-ilated hulk seemed to b selzedl with a dleath spasm. The suddo calm which followed, as the bronze fin were again submerged, was almost or pressive. Once more the feeble voice liftedl it head, so to speak : "Fwedwick-aw--- say--are we sinh4 lng ?" "8Sinking? No!l What blarsted rubbish! "Awv--1'm devilish sorry I" IRomnantic FacEt. In one of the incursion of Indians upo1 the frontier settenments of Pa., (luring thi Rlevolution, a very romantic incident oc curred. The celebrated chief Cornplante madle an attack upon the neighborhood c Fort Plain, burning andl destroying, an< among the prisoners lhe captured was on, John Abell, an old inhabitant. The liart; had not travelledl but a few miles on thte return, when It was (discovered that thi Abell was almost as wvell acquiain,ted wviti their language as the Indians thiemselves This fact interested the chief, anmd on ini qulring of his captive his name, Cornplante knew at once that lie stoodl before his ow, father. Abell, twenty-five years before had been a trader among the Indians c wvestern New York, and in one of his visit became enamored of a pretty squaw, an< the result of this atfection was the grea and celebratedl warrior, whom the fathe now for the first timie saw standhing befor him, Thue chicf had learned from li mother thie history of his parentage, anm his father's naflhc. The meeting was cer tainhy extraordinary to .a degree. Ti young chief held out strong inducem'ients t, his white father to accompjany him to hI tribe, but paternal affection dlId not seen so strong in the heart of Abell as his lov for the comforts anid luxuries of aa whit man's home, and so lie chose rathier to b set at liberty and be returned to hIs frien~dt This was yielded, and lhe was conduecea honor back to the settlements. 'I'hus singi larly met and parted the father and son. Etiquette inl Nevada. Q entlemen of leisure who live in Nevad; will be glad to know thme fashions for 1880 It will be a gross breach of politenesst bhioot at anybody further off than six feel and If lie falls at the first fire it is de riget that you should walk up to the party an put at least eIght more bullets in his carcas in self defense. This necesitates carryin 6wo more revolvers, but that cannot l. helped. Fashion at times lays heavy bum dens on its votaries. ~The knife is no long< used in polite circles, amnd the correct thin to dto after the occurrence is to inmmediatel give yourself up to the police, and -send letter of condolenice to the nearest relative of the deceased. It Is not usual to go*t the funeral, unmless It happens to be yot own, in which case it is in bad taste eithbr stay away or'take an active part I the~nroceedimn. rBody Stealing. The finding of the body of Hon. Joh s Scott Harrison by his son in the Ohl A' Medical College, recently, created great ez citenient in that locality. John Scol , Harrison was a son of ex-President Harr - son. He died suddenly. He %as partiall dressed, and had therefore died while prc y paring for bed, or had arisen early and ex pired beforc-he finished dressing. A sma bottle of peppermint was found near hhr indicating that lie had risen early, and feeling sick, had gone for it. The funers took place in the Presbyterian church a 'Cloves and the body was interred in Cor gress Green Cemetery, within a few yard 8 of the tomb of President Harrison. Who preparing the grave it was ascertained the the body of Horace Devins, buried ten day before had been stolen. He was an Intl mate friend of the Harrisons, and the die covery caused great excitement, makin I them take extra precautions with the grav g then bein prepared. It was accordingli walled up heavily, the body placed i metallic casket, and a stone which require r six men for Its handling placed over it. I addition, a guard was employed to watc the grave for thirty days. - The funere over, Carter Harrison, son of the deceased and George Faton, a grandson, caie t X Cincinnati to search for the body of thel friend Devins. They were prepared wit] the proper search warrants, when, in com pany with ex-Chilef of Police Snell Baker they visited the Medical College. In th e dissecting room a rope leading to a chut C seemed tight, and drawing it up a bod with the face covered was found attached A-fOter examining it a moment4 Carter liarri son said, "that is not lie ; 1ny friend wa r wasted with consumpt on, while this is ; stout man." The body was entirely nude savo the covering of the facej Snell Bake d suggested that Harrison should take a goo( look, and the cloth being removed, lie wa seen to tremble and turn pale as lie ax claimed, "My God I It's father!" The long white, flowing beard had been cut off clos k to the chin, the jugular vein had been cu and the blood let out. The bbdy was other wise in no way mutilated4 The doctor could make no explanation, in fact ha< nothing to say regarding Iie matter, an< now stoutly refuse to talk. The presump tion is that the suddenness df the death ex cited their interest, and they determined t< secure the body for post-4ortem exain ation. The 1nquirer contined a ten-lia article headed "A Mystery, ' stating that i buggy was seen to drive into an alley where something white wad taken out, an man an buggy hastily disappeared. Th 0 led to the discovery, as it was conclude( I the men were carrying the body of Devin to the college, located lin thdt vicinity. Thi . body was taken to an undettaker's, when it was prepared for burial. ]While searel was being made in that cityfor the body o Devins, friends at Cleve discovered tha Mr. Harrison's grave had 'also been des f poiled, and two of them at once came in and at the -depot met those who. In advano had made the discovery. The stone on th grave had been pulled aside, the grav opened, the glass in the top of the caske broken and the body pulled rudely out t The man employed to guard the grave ha , not been seen since the discovery, althougi , every effort has been made to ascertain hU whereabouts. Opinion is divided as t( whether lie was a' party to the crime, or after neglecting his duty and learning th result, lied from fear of being arrested fo complicity in it. The body was at one taken back and reinterred with precaution still greater than ever. Mr. Carter Harri son is almost prostrate from the nervou t shock caused by a series of severe ordeal through which lie has just passed. He is married maii and has several children, al of whom reside in the Harrison honestea -a farm given the late John Scott Harr son by his father, President Ilai-rison. I is located about flye miles from the histoi cal h arrison farm at North Bend, where ttu deceased members of the Harrison .famil are buried, and where the body of the lhs survivor of' the iirediate family of Will i am Henry lharrison was laid for so short -rest. John Scott Harrison was seventy four ycars of age. Hie was twice married ,and both his wives repose within a few fee of the place prepared for him. Genero Ben Harrison, of Indiana, who was has year dlefeatedi for G.~overn of that State b; Blue Jeans Williams, was a son of Johl 1Scott Harrison by his first wife. r Nettlo DaytoWs' Daurk hmay foe S "Why, why, miy dlarling, you miust ne fret over it like that," and farmer Dayto; stroked his pretty niece's shining curls a r lie looked down at her. "Thimeo enough t< Scry your pretty eyes out when the stor; is true, which we dbon't kiiow anythinj about." "But Dick said it was in thme lpaper." r "4iow many tiings get wrong in the a papers. Fiddlesticks take the papers , lalf the time they are full of lies f Saying one tihing to-day andi( another thini a to-morrow. The piaper's! TIut girl, doni' :1 heed the papers, don't they always mnake t thingsworsae. A p ack of lies mostly. Thb r papers! there, dry your eyes now. Liki Sas not the papera will tell usto-imorrow tha B the Suinny Airow is not burned at all, ain tat no0 lIves were lost." - That was thme way farmer Dayton comi o forted lier, but lie broughi. his f 30t d,~wn 0 the floor lirmnly wheii sne went out, b; s way of emphasizing some thought. I Pretty I'ettie D)ayton dried her eye 0. covertly and crept away softly to th B kitchen, where the farmer beheld hier bus; 0 with her household' duties shortly after -wards. 1 "Just like her mother, for all the world -never could sit down and take comfort i: trouble like some people, but had to work I must go right dowii to that telegrapi oillIco and see ibout ,this stor y. If it is tru --time enough when we kinow it." And firm in his dihsbeief the farmer se o his cane down hard as lhe strode away. ,At the telegraph office lie 'encountere r farmer Sherman, wlgose nervous manne 1l and disturbed comfitenanco betrayed gres a mental excitement. "Have you heard about th9 Suann e Arrow, Dayton i My wife will go dir -tracted. I'm afraid to go home. I'y r sent for all the particulars." "Y es, Mr. Sherman, Ii's in the papers y We take the morning paper, and"-he wa a going to say Nettle read it, but he checke a himself, adding: "1 don't believe a wor o of it. 'The account is'nt quite clear. in don't believe It," ho reiterated emphat] o cally. n The 'telegraph operator called to Mm Bherman throuh the window at the.4 m( ment, and spoke to him in a low t one. Mi Dayton inclined an ear. a "William Sherman was blown ovei o board from the hurricane roof of the Sunn - Arrow yesterday. Boat all right," real ,t the operator slowly. - Farmer Sherman clasped his hands, an V farmer Dayton stood silently behind llim The blow struck two homes. Nellie Day ton was the afllanced of William Sherman i farmer Sherman's youngest and most pro mising son, who was clerk on the steame Sunny Arrow, and Whose weddin* was ti I have taken place a week from the day th t evil tidngs were published. "It is very hard; it will kill my wife, s said farmer Shermau, quietly. ashe walke ii away slowly. Farmer Dayton did not at t tempt to detain him. lie also walke4 s away slowly, shaking his head as hi - thought of his pretty niece, and wonder Ing how he could break the news to her g lie thought it would be well to wal u awhile. Perhaps there was some mistak, after all, lie was a very hopeful man a was farmer Dayton. But his good Inten I tions were as naught. When Nettle looke4 i at his face she gave a short, quick gasi i and fainted. When she revived it wi 1 only to faint again and again, until the: , thought she would (lie. That same night witnessed a distressinj r scene in farmer Sheriman's house. Mrs i Sherman was carried to her room cryinj - for Oer lost boy. , EAly next morl" ig, when the .hous 3 was silent, Nettie Dayton stole softly ou 3 of the farm-house and walked to the depot I The fingers of the morning were stretchinj upward, tipping the sky and hill-tops witl - radiance, when she came in sight of th 3 depot. A train was turning the bend. Shi L hastened onward in the hope that si , might meet some one who would give lie r news of the man she loved--of' her has I band. Was he not liers ihi the sight o heaven? Perhaps they had found his re - mnins. If so, she cotild have lie sad satis faction of pressing her lips to his. 3 Why was the day so beautiful and lie t heart ko bitter. The world would neve1 - look bright to her again. 3 As she stood in the shadow of a lov I roof of the station-house, half conceale4 I by the vines that clambered over it, watch Ing the passengers emerge from the cars, i - familiar form rushed past her, halted turned quickly, and clasped her in hi - arms. "Why, Nettie, I counted on giving yol all a surprise." "I o you have, Will. A surprise, in i deed. You come t? us from the grave; she answered, soberly, as she placed lie i hand in his confidingly, an(d walked home . ward with him. H-low wondrously beautiful the morn was nol When farmer Dayton beheld them I reiterated for the twentieth time his con tempt of the papers, which were "nevei right." As for the groom hinself (for I did not return to the Sunny Arrow unti after the wedding), his only comment was O"As if there could not be two persons o 3 one name!" The story or a i1rigaai. Another band of brigands has been or ganized in the vicinity of Palermo. Iti chief, one Oliva was a brigadier of carbi neers, originally from the Romagna, wh< served in the district of Termini Imnerese r and woiked incessantly withI Inspector Luc ciesi for the capture of the notorious Con dottiere Leone. His activity and sagacit3 - were such that Leone must inevitably hav fallen into his hands; but unluckily for hin and his claim to the prize money which hal Sbeen set on Leone's head, it happened thai on the very (lay of Leone's being shot h was absent on other duty. ilis comradej - affected much regret at his having misse( L his share of the glory and its reward, bul .churlishly demurred to his request for son< recognition of his services, nmuch greater ai these were than ether services which hat been handsomely reompensed. The un . kindest cut of all to him was, however, i his seemng p)romnoted to the rank of Bergeant, . two comrades of his who had1( cont,rib)ute<( infinitely less than lie to the hemming it Sand f,be slaymng of Leone. lie repaired t< IPalerjmo, and (demanded justice, but ho ro. ceived no satisfaction; on time contrary, h<m .was treated wvit,h discoimtesy, andi ever: thireatenedl with dlisciplinairy hpunishiment, Stung ,with resent,ment, lie diesertedi hii corps andi took to the hills, withm the *reso lution of becoming a b)rigand. lie was not long in finding other deserters and outlawi like-minded with hilmself, and these hc formed into a band which has already given p)roof of Its maraudilng efilciency un der his leadersmip. llis knowliedge of th< country, acequired in the service which .si bjadly reqiuitedl him, is even greater tham that of his pursuers, and the Palermio pap ers predict that unless a stray shiot puts am end to him, lie will rival the bold aggres siveness, and the evasive dhexterity of a 1) Pasquale, a Capraro, or a Leone. Makmng Needleos. Needles are made of steel wire. Th< wirei la irst cut by shears from coils, "'att the length of the needles to be madle. Aftei a batch of such bits of wvire l'ave been cul off, they are placed ln a hot furnace, am then taken out, anid rolled backward an< forward on a table until they are straight. T1hiey are now to be ground. Th'Ie 'needhi pc.inter then takes up two (10zen or so o1 the wires and'rolls them between his thmh and( fIngers, with theIr ends1 onl the grind. stone, first one end an(i then the other. Next is a nmachine which flattens and gutter: 'the heads of ten thousand needlci In oH hour. Next comies the punching -of th<~ eyes by a b)oy, so fast that the eye car hardly keep paice with him. Te splitting follows, which is runinng t ine wire through a dozen, perhaps, of thes< 3 twin needles. A woman with a little anvf beOfore her, files between the hieadhs an<( I separates them. Tlhmey are complete need ie; but they are rough andl rusty, am( I easily bent. Thle hiardening comes next, r They are hieatedl In batches in a furnace, t and when red hot are thrown into a pan o: cold water. Next they must be tempered, f' andl this Is (lone by rolling thiem b)ackwart - andl forward on a -hot metal plate. The 3 polishing still remaIns to be done. On m very coarse cloth, needles are spread to th ,nutmber of forty or fifty thousand. E~merj s (lust is strewed over them, oil is sprinkled I and soft soap Is daubed over; the cloth lI I rolled hiardl up, thrown into a Sort of wash I pot, to roll to and fro twelve hours or more - TFhey come out dirty,enous;h, but after rins Ing in clean, hot water-and tossing in saw .dust, thney bedomo bright, and are yendy tI be0 sorted end put up for spule. Bow and Arrow. This luteresting diversion, although but recently revived throughout the country, possesses charms with which other sports are not endowed, and its characteristics be ing of a milder and more refined nature, it is not to be wondered that it has come to be popular alike with ladies and gentlemen everywhere. Not only Is the sport generally Interesting as a rule, but to many r persons who, during a brief experience with the bow and arrow. have beconb Ihighly skilled in their u6e, it possesses a fascination which becomes stronger with practice. It is a healthful ox-ercise, too. and this feature is one of its greatest charms. Physicians are unanimous in connending the use of bow and arrow as an amusement that combines with the entertainment furnished features that are beneficial and health-giving, endowing the imuscles of the arn with strength and vigor, tending to develop the chest and lungs, and to give keenness and accuragy of vision to itp votaries. Outdoor exercise is at all times to be encouraged among girls and young women, who for the most part are entirely too unfamilliar with open-air pas time, and archery conies as a delightful variation from the field croquet, that for years has comi)rlsed the only lawn sport in which city girls have been vouchsafed to engage, and which, however interesting, 9 has certainly assumed a monotony due to 3 long service. The season is yet early, but the book stores which make a specialty of outfits, are doing quite a brisk business in the goods, and the sales are on the increase. The improvements in the goods this season are not especially noteworthy, for when . they were first introuced, they seemed 3 complete li all particulars. There are, r however, some slight Innovations whidh . cannot fall to meet with the hearty appro bation of those interested in the sport. One reason why the game wil be more gener ally popular than before is the cheap prices at which the various styles of outfits are r offered. This matter was orginally the ciof hindrance to the success of the amusement. Owing to the competition in their manufacture, however, this state of affairs wilt be changed for this season, and anybody can prodcure an outfit at a reason able outlay, if not a trilling one. Some of the archery clubs in the large cities adopt appropriate names and wear neat and pretty uniforms; and the present pronises to be prolific in attractive patterns and designs. Philadelphia, Pittsburg and other cities throughout the country already report the existence of a number of clubs r which Include in their ranks expert bow men as well as unpracticed novices, and friendly contests will doubtless be in order as soon as a degree of skill in marksman shi) is attained that shall seem likely to warrant the exhibitions. The clubs which in membership usually number from a doz en up, are equally divided between the sexes, andl in many of them the ladies are not behind their big brothers in the skilful use of the bow. *ln the selection of titles the prefix "wood" is quite popular, and such names as "Lancewood," "Birniam wood," "Edgewood," "Elmwood," are generally appropriated. 1Sword-Bladesof tho kourdo. - A French traveler among the Kourdes, in Asia, states, as the result of his endeav ors to ascertain th*e process employed by them in the naniufacture of theli sword blades, that the manufactories in which these blades are made are situated at the declivity of a mountain, near cascades, the water of which, falling from rock to rock, arrives in the most limpid state in the reser voirs in which the blades are tempered, these reservoirs being also located where the air is very pure-these conditions of purity of air and water being considered essential to the success of the operation. Iron of the purest quality is usedi, and, sub - mitted to a very high temperature, the first temiperinig is commnenced whexn the metal is at white heat ; it is exposed before the fusion, the fuel being placed on each 81(1e, anid the red-hot, iron is covered as quickly as p)ossible with fatty and oily matters, such ats paste made from bones, wvax, etc. Th'is process is thought to render the blade flexible. The second tempering Is similar, excep)t that the heated iron, after having thrown off considerable quantities of sparks, and having been exposed, is coveredl with a paste- composed of powdieredh andl purlfled mutton suet. Thie third tempering is ef fected by dilsposing the metal in such a manner that it. may be seized by a man on horseback who rides at ,ull speed, in order that the blade, which lie bears in an.ele vated p)ositionm, may receive the impression of the air. Theo Social Weaver. The social weaving-bird of the Orange River region of southcrn Aficla is too re markable a mom her of this family to be p)assedi unnoticed, though ILs extraordiinary structure has often been aescribed by Afrncan travelers. It not only builkds in com n m ntes, as (10 most of the familly, but al esociates in colonies of many In dv ho construct their nests under a en. cof of their own building. Wh.. .1 these structures is first begun in the .. ucted p)lace, the comimumty mm mediately p)roceed to conusruct together tneo general covermgi which is to shelter the wail. Th'iis thatch is made of a coarse strong fiber of Bushman's grass. This being completed, each p)air begin to form tir own separate nest, of the same material as the roof. 'I he nests are placed close together, side by side against the under surf ace of the general covering, and when all are comnpletedi, the lower surface exhibits an even horizontal ceiling, per forated with small circular openings. With each breeding season, fresh nests are formed uponh time lower surface of those of the preceding year. In tis manner, year after year they add to the mass, until at last its excessive weight causes the destruc tionm of the whole, and a new site has to be chosen. rThe roof is usually firmly inter woven witat the branches of a slarge tree, anmd ofteui the principal limibs are included within its substance. -There are slxty-three cheese fac. tories ini Crawford county, Pa. -Leopold, Victoria's youngest son, ls on a vibit to the United States. -Misi Annie Lauise Cary intends to spend tihe comning year in Europe. -Texas expects its tax on comrner - ial travelers to yield $00,000 a year. --The Brooklyn bridge trustees have >l called for$a ,Q0for thes completion of the brld'e - BRIEFS. -Windmills were first known In Spain, Fr4pce and Germany in 1299. -rhe Empress Eugenie's voyage to Natal has greatly improved her health. -'rhe quantity of cotton consumed in 1878 was fifty-four times greater than 1778. -Maine vessels are carrying great quantities of ice to all the Atlantic ports. -The seal catch of Newfoundland in March and April was 100.000, worth $250,0C0. -State benator John N. Hudson, of Americus, Ga., has been sent to a luna tic asylum. --Mr. George W. Childs has bought two large farmns in Chester county, Pa., for $130 per aore. -Plymouth, Mass., gets $3,000 or $4,000 every year for the May flowers it sends to Now York. --The layor of Wilkesbarre, Pa.4 fined a man ten dollars for drawing a revolver in the street. -The first building of the Egyptian pyramnids is supposed to have been about 150u before Christ. -$30,000 have been subscribed in Shiekshiniy, Pa., toward starting a nall factory at that place. -During the last forty years the Ap pletons have sold 40,000,000 of " Webs ter's bpeller," or 1,000,000 a year. -Four million staves are packed in the *ooper shop yard* of the Standard 01 Company, near Sharpsburg, Pa. -A leading hotel in Dundee, Scot land, is furnished throughout with iurniture made in Grand Rapids, Mich. -'l'h Island of Eba, Napoleon's first exile home, has been devastated this spring by an army of lotusts from Africa.. -Seven hundred and fifty trout, weighing over eighty pounds, were caught In Forest county, by three boys in one day. . -Tle French Government has ap propriated $20,000 toward encouraging the propagatdon of American grape vine stocks. -Excess Is dress was restrained by law in England under Edward IV. 1465, and again in the reign of Eliza both inl 1074. -Boston has seven colored lawyers, six of whom are in active practice, one of then being a graduate of the Ilarvard Law School. -The noney spent for tobacco in the United SLates, according to The Rle tuiler, exceeds in amount the expendi tur for bread. -The "salt" song of "Nancy Lee'd has brought its owner $30,000. A clergyman might work fiteen years and write 780 sermons without making so Inuleh 1ii(01ney. -Who suflicient for the food of one hundred ien for one day, was worth bit one shilling in the year 1130, and a sheep cost but fourpence. -Bishop Kerfoot and his entire fai Ily, with the exception of Mra. Ker foot, are down with the scarlet fever at their home in Pittsburg, Pa. -Gen. Robert Toombs has bought what was once .the Presbyterian par sonage at Ularkaville, Ga., and will lit it up for his summer residence. "-Inl 1700 a combined Austrian and russian army marched to Berlin and laid It under contribution, also destroy ilg its ftrts, magazInes and arsenals. -The champion deadhead is Mr. George Auguista Sala, who has traveled 25,000 miles on American railways without the purchase of a single ticket. -Madame Jenny Lind Goldschmildt lives in a pretty house in South Ken siiigton, within a few doors of Madame Albani. It is surrounded by trees and Ilowers, aiid furuished with the modern art-draperIes and quantities oi ph.tures aiid old China. -The survivors of the Yale Class of '20. eight or nine in number, are to culebrate their sixtieth anniv 1ersary at the coming Commencement at Dr. Woolsey's house. The class grad uated 58 members. -The Empress Eugene, during her stay at Dunrban, was to occupy the samne room in Government House wvhichi hier son occupJied a year ago, was to ride in the same carriage and eat f rom the same table that lie did(. -D)ennis Kearney's youngest brother, William, Is dead. lie was a member of the Christian Brothers, was called Brother Luke, and was 22 fears old. -Over three million f'eeo of lumber anid a vast amount of. valuable timber land have been destroyed in Pihke county, P'a., by forest fires, within the p)ast rowV weeks. -It is said that the widow of the late John U. Green has given $100,000 to the Anmoriean Sunday School Union, to be used In developing a higher order of Sunday School literature. -The South Carolina Leglslature'has apphropriatedl $15,000 for a bronze statue of General D)aniel Morgan, the hero of' Cowpens. T1hae Committee of Arrange mernts are anxious that Mr. J. Q. A. WVard should (1o tire work. -T'he average annual attendance of coloredl pupils at the pabhic schools in South CarolIna, from 1809 to 1870, was 40,091, while from 1876 to 1880 thme average attenidance was 80,723--an ini crease of a little more thian forty-five per cent. -1t is said that the R1ev. Edwvard Ever ett Hale lins withdrawn lis name from thme list of members of-.the St. Botolph Club, of Boston, giving as the reason that lie cannot approve of the furnishing of wines and liquors to its members. ---The Commissiott of the Universal Exhibition of 1878, at ParIs, has just ordered the striking of 2800 eommeimo rativo medals, to be dIstributed among the members of tIme foreign commis sions, the juries, and- the exhibitors who did not compote for prizes. 'ihe medals are to be bronze, and will ini volve an outlay of $60,000. -The ages of the members pf the now British Cabinet are f Mr.Gladstone, 70; Earl Spencer, 44; Lord' Seiborne, 67; Duke 01 A rgyll, 67.; Sir W. larcourt, 63; Earl GriavIllo; 05' Earl of Kim borly 64, theltighliton. h.p. Ohmild&rs, 63; Marquis of ,Uati t6ij4 Lord N'-orthbrook, 54; Johi AAW i8 W. G. Forster, 01; J. 0. 1) Mr. Chamberlain, 44. ~ . ~