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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., FEBRUARY 3, 1881. VOL. I.-NO 172. "THEY 8AY." "They say I" Ah, well; suppose they do, But can they prove this story true I Suspicoons may arise from naught out mallos, eniy, want of thought ; Why oount yourself among the "they. Who whisper what they dare not say ? " They say I" but why the tale rehearse, And help to make the matter norae P No good oan possibly soorue From tolling what may be untrue: And U3 it not a noble plan To speak of all the best you can ? " They say " well. if it should be so, Why need you tell the tale of woe ? Will It the bitter wrong redress, Or make the pang of sprrow less? Will it the erring one restore Henceforth to " go and sin no more ?" "They say I" Oh I pause and look within; gee how thy heart ir, pa% to kiu ; W.atoi, lest in dark .b A. s hour Thou, too, should slp C-A. 'ts power. Pity the frail ; weep 6 f ... fall, But speak of good, or not at all. The Obstructed Track. Above the fair girl who looked out of a small dormitory window shone countless stars; sh3 might have seen Bootes and Or ion had she looked up, but that night the worlds of heaven had no attraction for her. She was listening to a strange sound borne fron the west by the nocturnal breeze that chilled her cheek. "I believe It is Gwynno's Cut," she said at last, to herself. "Perhaps some villain is obstructing the track for devilish purposes. The Red Bird will so-)n be due,. and this Is' Ed's trip down." The moonbeams stealing in at the win dow, fell on the face of the dial and told Viola that It was 12 o'clock. Twelve," she murmured. "What 12 o'clock, and he whistles to me at half-pastl My heavens I What If the track ts -ob structid lk the cut V" With the last word on her lip, she turned. and soon left the house. At the gate she paused a moment and listened. The stars looked down upon a little object that glittered like silver in Vi ola's hand. She was the towar tha t county s ne m ahkted. Her father was dead, and, with her widowed mother, and a little brother eof twelve, she dwe s'h the hu mble house won by the sweat of her father's brow. A railway station calld Beaumont, Was the only settlement near, and it was six miles oknher homne. Ntat engmne toward that great city on iatsipp's bank. They recalled the "A pryear since, when the first engine she h, ever seen bad stopped at Baumont, scarcely a station then. - The engineer was young and handsome; as he saw her ex * uoining the great driving wheeh', and looking with wonderment upon the mighty beauties ohIron pet, he leaped to the ground. "A pretty piece of machinery," said he to her, "and she goes hike a bird." the blushed when she caught his eye, and the sound of his voice thried her. A week later she found herself at the sta tion talkine to im ahin. By and by Ft. Giolaatlatoehe the rcrrio awpicur ther himello anonVlas feured auseay Bou to mmgthightonthednight wtrctVdoth tract hefrhoe tor antgt the soundsr the atlemed ocmel robi Gwyne held hiol brat. lat eahe the occknt whch thet tmellousw mondberamsflk, hand ocaused a number of precious minutes. The shrieks of the Red Bird would soone be heard, and a moment thereaftter'lls headlight would llash inte thme cut or gorge. She saw more than a pile of strong ties on th~e track. Shie saw the dark figure of a manimoving about among thei ipyramidls, as If contemplating his night's work, and speculating upon the death and ruin It would cause. She watched until she believed that one man had accomlished the dialicaeml deed, and - then she crept forward through the shadowm of the 'bushes that lined the side of tihe cut, until she stood within ten feet of hhnu. "I'll go back to the station, now," she / heard him say to him'nself. "I can got there before tihe accident; a1m( when it cc eirs, why I can run up there and see him tIbJ['the ruin s of his engine, so crushed that tihe doll'faced girl will not recognize Thme last words, full of devil's triumph, dgtilh quivered on his lips, when Viola step 6dpd fromt the shadows andI thruist the miuz aM~ le of her revolver unto his face. "This is your mevenuge, Morgan Duke," she said, look~ing sternly into his eyes. "Now, obey my commrands, or there will be a lIfeless body on this tr-ack, 'to be0 mini gled among thme ruins of the night express. To work at once; off with your coat, anid ~, remove every obstruction your wicked hands S have placed there.') "The3 train can't be saved now," lie said, ~' and there was joy in his tones. "It took me one long hour ta obstruct the guard. In twenty minutes or less, perhaps, you'll see the Bed Bird's headlight up the cut.'' "Villain I" she cried, "If tie track is not clear when I see her headlight, I'll drive a bullet through your orain. You know what to do., ll talk no longer." Hie worked for' dear life, for he knew when thae thundering train was 4uer. and a glance at the airl on& the track told ima that she -would surely kill hun If he (lid not do her bidding. She said to him : "I never thought this of you, Morgan Duke. When I rejected you I thought you* woui bear it lke a i)." lie replied not, but gtnced at his watch. "Half-past twelve," he said. "To work I" was the stern command, and Viola stepped forwird and brought the revolver nearer his head. - "I can't get then out," he_ said. "You must, "was the reigy. "I drove them in a with sledge.''" "I did not hear the sound." "It was deadened with my coaL." The girl's face grew paler than ever, and she glanced fearfully up the cut. "Take them out I" she said suddenly "the train is coining. I hear it." Tie -villainous station nusstnr heard the rumbling and again turned to the ties. "You have your choice," Viola said to him. "A bullet or an unobstru :I track." She watched him as a won.a never watched a man before. She knew that lie was doing all that could be done to undo his wicked work, and while she watched het heart grew still. beneath the rumble of the express. "He'll soon oall mue," she said to her self. "'here 1 there " The familiar shrieks cleft the cool Octo ber air, but they brought no joy to her heart. She was not at the old window be side the light lie loved to hall from his en glue. Perhap, she would be the JIrMt to kiss his cold brow beneath the stars at Gwynne's Cut. 8he almost shouted for 1 joy when she saw the first tie drawn from tue guard by the desperate man. "Quick I the sledge I break the guard I" she cried. ''God, I never thought of that,' lie said, and the next moment he was shattering the long guard with the heavy sledge. At that the tie was broken, and he thrust the other ties down into the long opening he had made. At that moment the train, rounding the curve, lashed into the cut, and the flashing headlight, not twenty teet away, almost blinded the eyes of the twain. Morgan Duke stepped from the track. He looked up and beheld the gleam of tri umpli in the girl's eyes. In an instant a grim look of resolve settled on his face. On, thundeuing came the traim. He sprang forward and the next instant it disappeared in the wo6ds leaving Viola alone with the mangled remains of her rejected lover. With tears in her eyes she bent over the t shapeless mass. How copld she fail to t life The next day brought Ed. Gordon to her i side and none too soon, for the poor girl t was almost pr-Atrated with the excitement s of the night. . The company presented Viola with a beautiful house, when her husband took charge of the car shops. I know she will never regret her night in Gwynne's Out with her rejected lover. 8 Mir. Heffner's Bsibes. "Yes, it's so," said the man. "Oh, John, you must be mistaken," re plied his third wife. . "Well, I tell you it's s0; 1 ought to know," was.the emphaic rep~ly of JohnI Heffner, who lives on Maple street, be tween Chestnut and Spruce, Reading, Pa. A reporter had called upoii Mr. Hcfefi' to learn the correct history of lis much talked-atbout grea', brood of forty-one chil-< dren. Hlefner is sj arngly built, smokes a I short pipe, and makes a living in the rag business. lie is sixiy-five years old and~ a hans a pleassanit smiile and cheerful greeting for all friends. The story of the man's I married life, as related by himnself, is pr'ob ably the most remarkable one on recordl. a H-e was born iin Germany in 1815. Wient twenty-five years old-in 1840-lie iaiar ried his first wife, who lived eight, years. She became the miothier of seventeen chii dIren ins that time, having twins in the first year of their marriage, Th'ie next year anm othmer pair of twinms were born. Each suc ceeding year for four years thereafter Mrs. R eft ner becamie the mnothei- of triplets. Trho seventh year was signalized by the birth ofj only one eldiil. Mrs. Heliner (lied andi was laid away in the village church-yard in Germany. TIhe wliower had~ now a family of seventeen children, the oldest, only seven years of age. Three months thereafter a young lady took charge of time children, andi in course -of time she lhe-. came the secondi Mrs, liefiner. The first wife dliedl in February, 1848. In February, 1819,, this second wifle presentedi Mr. hifef iier withs a boy, On Onristmas Day of the same year the ninetoeenh child was addedc~ to the Hleffnerilock. The family was now larger than any other in that part of the country. Five years passed by, and Mr. Ileiluer's household was increased by the addition of tea muore children-a pair of twins being born every year. There wvas now a lull, andi for three years thmereafter only one child was borna unto thems. In 1854 lie came tc this counitry with lisa famn ily, and the last three children were born in America. Inm 18571 his wife diecd, having been married nine years. He was now the father ot thirty-two chil dren, twelve of whom had died, leaving twenty to be taken ia charge by a widIow whom lie niarried in 1858. Mrs. Hetiner No. 8 had one child by a previous imar riago. Bhe became the mother of nine more children m ten years by single birth. His last, or third wife, Is still living. .None of the first set of seventeen chlkren sui vive. Two of the fifteen of the second wife's children still live, and three of the third wife's nine. In a period of twenty eight years-from 1840, when he first mar ried, to 1768, the date of the birth of his last child-he became 'he father of forty one children. Th'le five who are still lhv ing are girls. With the step-child added to the list, forty-two children have called John Hlefridr 'ufather." TCh'old man has liong since forgotten the names of' hism. 'merous progeny, aund can ofily recall those born in lato yaara. Saddle ntoraes. '-"o the man who travels over the face of the earth, mIgrating from country to coun try, nothing will appear as more extrome in the manners of the different people he Comes in contact with than their various methods of riding horses. While the Arab is the ancient ideal of a perfect hoiseman, yet our own country probably furnishes as great variety and styles of horsemanship us all the nations of the world put together. Let us take a hasty glance lit the dilfereut patterns our country affords : in Mexico, Texas, and the extreine Siouthern States the style of riding is quite unique. On the other side of the Mississippi river a suitable costume is quite intlispensuble. The bridle is arined with a curb bit of terrible leverage. The saddle bears an immense pomiel to ease the strain of the lariat or the elbows of the sleepy rider. A comiion buckled girth would never do In such scientific rid ing. The broad hair band is tightened with i cunning twist from a long, loose strap that has been "sprung" upon until the band is as tight as wax. We are all, at least in pictures, familiar with the broad sombrero, slashed breeches, and large silver spurs with their attached ''jingles." This rider in his appointments and horseman ship is certainly worthy of much admira tion, for lie al ways looks at home and grace ful when lie tries to be, even on the most veritable plug of a mustang. It is seldom, however, that his charger calls forth any Lhing but a feeling of pity from the edu oated horseman. The native breed of Aiose sections Is a long way off from the Ideal saddle horse of the middle States. [n Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia we probably see the art of horsemanship, both i its relations to horse and rider, carried o a higher standard than in any other part f the world. Here we find the horse bred or generations under the most enlightened ules for breeding, and with the sole pur L)osu in view of making him the perfection A a sadd u horse. In physical leatures lie ,8 a model of the artist. In gaits his vari ty is Infinite-a rapid walk, fox trot, rack, rot, lope,and run, changing from one to an ther at a practical signal from the rider. In temper perfect, quick and comnprehien ive. This is a point . which no one but ,he practical rider can appreciate. . The iridle lines are actually useless with him. !. slight bending of the body forward in orms him you wish the gait quickened; aettling firmly back in the saddle inLimates o him to slacken the gait, a slight bending >f the body in the saddle, a little pressure >f the opposite knee, and perhaps an un :onscious motion of the bridle hand in the 1 lirection you wish to turn is all the man igemnent he needs. Tho lines are never )ulled to turn him right or left, but pressed igainst the side of the neck opposite the lirection you wish to turn. Leaning for vard 14 the saddle puts him in a fast or ox trot. To pull hun in a rack the bridle eins are pulled taut, while the heels bring lie spur pressure to his sides. To make iim trot, the reins and heels are let loose, he handls pressed upon the withers, and heo dytglight)N rq *gjj." Uads'ni anter or lope settle in the saddle and wave >nc hand in the air. These are not the uventions of a single individual, but the i toiversal custom among those who train addle horses in the States named. We now come to the rider of t[his perfected i addle horse. He sits in his scat with an i asy, comfortable grace that shows him I amiliar with it from earliest boyhood. he stirrups 1re so long that his toes barely est with cas< in them, while his heels turn lightly outward, relieving his appearance >f extremi awkwardness that is often seen n rider' whose toes point at right angles vith thp horse's sides. These horaes are horoughly bitted when young and thus aught to carry a high and sty lish head, so hat -when. in full motion, with the favorite ;ait, a rack, and bestrode by his auit-rb ider, the whole makes a picture that chal enges our highest admiirationi. AifonsoO's Flanfly. With the annual close of the bull ring oincides every autumn the second race neeting of the year in Madrid. Jlust as lie bull fight, is the popular amusement, nar excellence, where the people revel inl 11I the fierce exclteuient, the good humor. dl jollity, the pleasant equaity that miakes lie young grandee sit close to the coninon nuleteor or workmnan, the horse races are liastimne where the upper classes fancy hey amusing themselves because it is fash oiiable, anid the miulutude stared In uiidis. tliised astonishnient at the rows of hand1(. oime carrmagt~s andl drags flilled with ladies md gentlemen who are betting and making 100oks during several hours. The multi ude emnly evinces 5011ne interest when the 'ace actually takes place, and the jockeys n their blue, yellow or black ard white ackets incite more curiosity than the iorses. Your Bpanmard can not admllire the lno, active, slim, thoroughbred hrirso, as dia ideal of a steed is an Andalusian crossed w~ith Arab, piraucinig, curvetting, stepping alowly to display its showy tail, rounded ormi and~ heavy curved neck. What Cais ilians doe begin to like in the races Is that t, alffords a dhouble oppprtunity for sight teeing aucl for gamlinilg. Thme agencies ~or pools5 are besieged with natlves shtsu: ng and asking lckets with the aname of hle favorites, and the moat forward ini the sew spo~rt bet andl make bets with a st snd fury worthy of Longchamips In Paris~ ar of E'psomi Downs on a Deorby dhay. Thle Nfadrud race course is beautifully situated it the extremity of the litcoletos and Cait tellaaua driveb Ia a sort oaf hollow plain sur rounded by rising ground and~ hillocks that afford for the nansses a nattmal aimphitheca tre oaa whaich they stand by thousnaids on foot and in every imaginable vehicle. Down below, near the course, are four handsome' stone and wooden standI suport ed lay light iron coluns ad with Iron railed terraces rIght andi left of the royal p~avllion that is the cnter of thae paddock. The stands are crowded with bourgeoise aind young mn eagerly sturrounmd the "4poule" agency, but the center of thme at tiaction Is thme paddook and great, tribune near thme royal pavilion. T1hiere muster iii force the belles of Madlrid society in ele gant tolects, vielaig wIth the ladies oif the dilplomlatic corps ; mInisters, juidges, gen erals, dlepuitles, baiakea s, grand(ees, young aristocrats, and busy plutocrats have all come ther,e to bet anad imuchi merrily, and~ there is as much flirting going on there as in every -gathering of bladrid high life. King Alionso himself leaves the young queen and theo princess In the pavilion and mingles with the distinguished crowd, now discissing horse-flesh with Duke Fernian Nunies, Marquis V. llamejomr or Mr. Day Ie. the owners of the best, studs, or ox - Aianging amiable remarks with his lovely sibjects, who are over anxious for a smile ol their gallant young Monarch. In fact, in the paddock you meet every one that is kiuown in the world of fashion, polities or fit.ance, unless, indeed, soei have remain ed to brave the keen bla9ts from you blue mountains and snUow-capped peaks from the tops of mail coaches and Daumonts, magnifisently got up, with their liveried servants and fours-in-hand.; Between the third and fourth race there ts a long pause for lunch, and then I went from the pad1. dock to a hospitable coach, whore, a4 in 01, pates de folc yras, pasties of venison and boar sandwiches were duly honored b the strong sex. Beautiful eyes, under qaint, poky hats and inousquetahe " ques," flashed merry glances after sp rkling champagne and hook had been hamded round profusely. The bell rang buttoo aoon, and back to the paddock we strode for the last event. The shades of eveiling were over the Castellana, crowded by thousands of persons who wished to see the return, when we 4rove back to Madrid amid a scene of anination in strets and promenades only surpassed, perhaps, by the road to the bull-ring on Sundays. F shionable Vanreis ana Toes. The idle, fashionable woman has taken to a upw diversion. She polishes her nails. She extends her hand to you with great frequency nowadays, and always with the back upward and the fingers straightened out. That is because alt wishes you to observe the nails, which sune like glass and are of a delicate pink hue. Who knows what started this mania? Nobody can ever discover the oriilu of such things. The distemper breaks out somehow, and then extends from person to person. The New York woman of leisure, whether she be lof I in the city or is to be found at sonic near seashore resort, now spendsabout four hours a day at work on her sails. Her tool is an article somewhat like the wooden handles or holders for blotting-paper--a narrow strip of ebony, ivory or Inuia-rub. bor, with a knob on one aide and a surface A chamois skin on the 6tber. Some of liese polishers are fancifully made, and 10 is not an unusual price; but cheap :nes do the work as well, and a home nade article answers the purpose. The best of them have a device for haudily fastening in fresh strips of chamois skin, but tacks will do. The essentials are a polishing substance and plenty of industry. &, mixture is sold in the stores at a pretty ugh price, and it has a beautiful name and abel, but is a simple compound of rotten. itone, oil and rouge. Anybody can mix t for herself. The stuff is daubed on the rubber, and assiduous friction does the eaL The rotten-stone and oil smooth and polish the nails, just as metal, bone and *ory are made to shine by thu workmen, mad the rouge imparts a pinkish color. The n.busiastic industry displayed by the women in this amusement is wntrsar l'hey rub, rub, by.the bou-.. iI.wift'e the nace of iedlework. There was once an >ld woman who scrubbed her kitchen loor mutil she fell through Into the cellar, break ng her back. Something like that will iappen to these nail polishers, for nails munot thicken as fast as they are now be ng scoured away. The polishing is not di done on finger nails. Oh, no. The oe-nails of the belles are beautiled, too. What'is the use of spending time and labor n making their toe-nails pink and glossy ? Nell, some of them have husbands, bear in nind. Time was when the female bather id the corns, bunions and little unshapil ioes of her teet in slippers, or stuck them )ut of sight into the sand when not in the water. The attractiveness of the burnished iails are deemed by her to more than com esa.e for any blemishes, and so she takes ptaius to show her feet. The change is a narked feature in the surf scenes, where hiousands of woemn sire in the water every iternoon. Manny of them have been seen sitting on the sand with their toe-nails )roudly glistening in the sun. The increased attention to nails has na ~urally extended to thieir shape, anid the greatest care is bestowed upon the matter f cutting them. Long and narrow nails ire considered prettiest, and to give thenm he desired prop~ortion they are trimmed somewhmar to a point, while at the roots the skIn Is puishted and cut back as mnuca as possible. Gloves are not worn at all, even at the full-dress balls. Mlitts of all colors, rromi white through the whitest hues to plain black, extentted from tihe elbows to lihe knuckles, leaving the fingers exposed. Thmere is all the niore reason, then, for reii lering those fingers sightly. Rteally beau iful ingers, if you will take the trouble to aonvinice yourself by observation, are scarce Lndeed-mnuch more so than handsome faces. The plump beauty usually has fin gers as blunt at the ends as drumsticks, while the fingers of her etherially slender mister are about as bony as a skeleton's. IThus it is a good year for pretty fingers that do not need a tight glove to squeeze them into shape. Rings are more than sver in vogue. Bangle m ings with jinglets to them are ab~out the only novelties in that Line. Art Ta'eaqures ot the Britisn Mussutn. TFhe hIdden treasures of .the B;ritishsn mu scum are soons to be exiitesd. A timely bequest falls in to enable thme trustees, who possess jewels, to acquire jewel cases, and to imake the Greek antiquilles, which re mainzed for so many centuries b~uriod near Athens, and for so manny years burled near Bedlford Square, open toJ pulilc tidmniration. I he dlifliculties of obtaining access to tihe print room will now, p~erhmaps, disappear, anid tihe lIberal mnangemntar whicas has made the readling room a source of comfoart and instruct ion be extended to other (do psartnmients. T1hmare is somnethinig p ~Culiarly1 averse, as the Daily News rommanks, in ai set, of regulations that, admiit the punblc t(c take dIown, handle and copy from valuable books and at the same time suirrounid tie inspection of prints with restrictions and formalities. 1t is only a few mnonths sinc4 the trustees sold oif a portion of tihe rares prints, of which they had dutplicates, i:n order to acquire a collection of extraordm ary local interest. That thme building ii Bloomnsbury should be literally congeste( with treasures has long beeni a kind of sttu pid national boast. TIhe $300,000 left b3 the White bequest will be well spent in al lowing-Londoners to enjoy what they havy so long arid so frumtlessly possessed. - he funded deur. of Paslladelphia lI $.0,970, n41, -'herei are 800,000 fewer acros umn I dar wheat in Engm mnd than In 1874. antautaeoo Photography. Tihe process of instaintaneous photo. graphy, as perfected recently in L.nton and In this cotantry by ltockwood, has re stilted In natny changes in the mode of taking: ordinary'photograplhv and has er.n larged the field 'of photography by brig lug witbio-1t the woi'k'of picturing objects in ihotioal. Tho'history of the instattane ous process of photography is, like that of all other inventions, full of failures. The gelatine used instead of collodion as a nedium for the chemicals employed in making negatives is a delicate substance, the manipulations of 'which need great ex perience and judgment; its proper pro para tion is so tedious that it Is not probable that photographers will attempt to prepare their own plates as at ptaent, but will buy them ready prepared, in large quantities, the plate being dry and practically inaltera ble. 'The golatine is first boiled for many hours, then nilixod with tho necessary salts of silver and potassium then passed through selve-liks clolhs, washed In water to ex tract the excess of chemicals, boilel again for a (lay and then spread on the glass plates. Even the ninutest care n )roor tions and treatment results in plates of dif ferent quality. Some plat6s are too sensi Live and become black, even attor an ex posure of a fraction of a second : others do not give clear pictures. 6o rapid is the fifect of light that the motion of the hand has been found to be too slow, and a pneu matic device has been introdluced by which the slight pressure of a rubber bulb throws up a disk which covers the aperture of the camera and brings it down again. In Mr. Rookwood's studio a lung tube goes fron the camnera to any part of the room, the bulb which ends it being carriedl in tile operator's hand. When he sees a g<.od expression or position on the part of the sitter he squeezes the bulb, no matter in what part of the roomn he may be, and the pictuic is taken. But even tIis pLe .imatie (isk is not rapid enough for pictures taken out of doors. For this purpose a woden s.ide is used with a round hole in it. As the slide falls the opetiung passes time camera aperture and gives a view of the scene, which lasts for awout the hnudreth .part of a second. In pictures taken at the Battery by this process of gelatine coating and slides the fluest ropus on ships, stoain boats going at full speed are as distinct as if the boats had been at rest, and each wave was distinctly pictured as it was at that fraction of a second. For artists the instantaneous process of fers the most valuable kind of aid. No matter how animated a scene it can be photographed as easily as a tableau. A -all-room with dancing going oi, the musicians fiddling, people talking, laugh ing and yawning,can now be phout graphed with ease. Rogers, the sculptor, ms usLed the process to take pictures of ahletes struggling. The men struggle without any %hougi of the camera, and when they get througih there are a half dozen niCturva iogers as effective. All he had to do was to squeeze his rubber bulb and the thing was done. IHerses trotting "nd cows grazing are easily taken. One picture taken recently represents live pigs ieding, one old fellow scratching his back as he gazes stolidly at the camera. A cat and her kitteins imake a pretty group. In taking childreu ani very old persons the advaunages of this process are invalua ble. The child is allowed to move Buut until it takes a good position, when the picture is made. Old people who dislike the ordeal of sitting are photographed be fore they know it, all such things as head rests and prPS being done away with. Pictures of portions lamthing are full of life, and it may be said of all pictures taken by the instantaneous pr icess that the still, unnatural expression alUost un avoidable when a person is obliged to sit with head propped up, staring at a camera for half a minute is done away with. In the opinion of many persons it will not be long before photographers' head-rests wihl be sold for 01(d irOn. Another Good Boy. A Detroit grocer was the other day hun grily waiting for his clerk to return from dinner and give lan a chance at his own inooniday meal, when a boy caime into the store withi a basket in his hand and said: "1 80e(d a boy grab up tis 'ere basket fromi the (door and run, andi I ruun after hn andl made nimc give it up." "My lad, you are an honest, boy." "y es, sir." "Amid you look like a good boy." "Yes, sir." "Aiid goodl boys should always he en couraged. .In a box In thme back room there are eight dozen eggs. You imay take them home to your mnother a .d keep the basket." 'rue grocer had been saving those eggs t'or (lays andl weeks to reward some one. In rewarding a good boy he also got eight dlozeni bad eggs carried out of the neighbor htoodi free of cost, and lie chuckled a little chuck as he waliked homewards. The alternoon wanedi, nighit cama and went, and once more the grocer we it to his dinner. Wheni lie returned he was picking his teeth and wearing a comnpla cent smile, ills eye caught, a basket of eight (dozen eggs, as he entered the store, and lie qlueried: "Beenc buying some eggs?" ".Yes; got, hold of those from a farmer's boy," replied the clerk. '-A lame boy with a blue cap coni" '"Two front teeth out?" "Yes.'' Tame grocer sat (lown amt examined the eI Ta''me shells had beeni ,vahed cleani, 1)umt they were thme same eggs that govil boy hadl lugged home the day nef ore. IVomenm on the eonich. Scome years ago thme emmnent lawyer hienry W. Paine, of Massachusetts tried a case for a lady client, but, (lid not receive a decision in lisa favor, although justice and equiity would have warranted it. As lie andc~ his client were leaving the Court-room, tihe lady, who is well knowna as an exponent of womaa's rights, said to hun: "That, was rank injustice." - "Certainly, mradami," Mr. Paine replied. "Mr. Palane," the lady continued, "when - we wommen get a chance to sit on that i bench, such 'Injustice will not be possi ble." . 'With one of lisa rich, rare smiles the great law yer said: Madam never expect to see a greater set - of old women than are at present on the Miassanhneattu hMuniremo Onurt banch. A Itello of General Jackson. Thu elegant and hospitable mansion of an accomplished and hospitable Creole goutleman,Mr. Louis Barthelemy Macarte, vho acted as Secretary to Gov. Claiborne previous to the year 1814. was the head qiartje's of General Jackson. Air. Alacarte wasa lAcheker, and dispensed a hheral hospitality in his old planter's house,which was justly regarded as second only in its appoint ment and luxurious style to another mansion, which tronted on the river sev eral squares lower down,and known as the Bosque house, more modernly as the Mlarigny house, which now stands in a good satQ of preservation. This, and not khe Alacarte house, was the place of so jout'n of GUn. Jackson when he was not becupying his first headquarters, 110 Royal street, and his other headquarters, the Montgomery house, which also still stands well preserve( within one hundred yards of the Chanette monu ment. The Bosque houso was, at the thune of the war, occupied by Gov. Claiborne, who had married the famous beauty, Miss Bosque, for his second wife. As the Gov ernor of the State, Gov. Claiborne insisted upon Gen. Jackson sharing his hospitality whilst not engaged in the field, and it was hero, and not at the old batridden mansion now being torn down, that the General made his chief sojourn and headquarters. Being in feeble enith and worn down with his many cares and responsibilltips, he found no little relief and recuperation of his nearly exhiastled energies from the kind and gentle attentions and nursing of the Governor's beautiful young wife, who wais a lue liusiciatn and skilled in all the arts of the most. refined hospitality and in all pleasing accomphisamnuts. Jackson, who waas always graceful and captivating in his attentions to ladies, when the British had retired fiom our soil, after an inter viaw with the Governor, in which he had taken ocoasion to exples his gratitude and high appreciation o ti he Governor's ,ervices in riding hin in the defense of the city, porceivmig.Mme. Claiborne enter the par for, advanced to ward her, and, with a pro found bow, in earnest tones, remarked: "Madame, to you, more thian to even his Excellency, I owe tle greater portion of whatever of vigor, courage and spirit I have been able to carry Lltis campaign to a successful conclusion. My poor, weak fratme could not have kept up under such a pressuro but for your kind nursing and incessant care and attention." This lady news lives at Nice, in Italy, an octogenarian, the survivor by niwiy years of two distinguished husbands. Some years after the death of Gov. Claihorne she married the great lawyer, John It. GIymnes. She will leave at her death a large number of descendants by her two husbands. The other nausion, in which Jackson spent most of hia. time while en gaged in the defenac of the city, was the Montgomery house, as it was thon called frmn ijA owner. JW. W. Montgomery, a and granid-ohua.. :: -- -- and n their elegant hotel in the Fauboigwt. Honoro. Thu house is well preserved,and bears several marks of the severe boi. bardient, to which it was exposed during the stege of the city. It has, in the upper story, an old dormiter window, in which a large telescope was established by a French imechanician, by means of which t,he Gen eral was enahled to reconnoiter and watch the euniy throughout his extended cinMp and lines. Notwithistaiidimg the power of this instrument and its constant, use, the British managed to evacuate their position with so much earo and skill as to complete ly deceive the Geieral and his stair, who, finding sentinels posted through and in front, of the camp, wIould not credit the ru mor of their departure until Geun. lium burt, an old French l epubhl can, General, the same who invaded Ireland in 1798,aid defeated the British at Castlebar, was call ed into consultationl Tlaking an observa tion tnroughi the telescope the G:neral ex claimed. ''aore redeoaisil Tney are gone. Thilir sentinels are what, you caLII dhumies~L. See how near the crows' fly to thema " And so it proved. Tlhie Bitish hlad departed in secrecy and silence, and were cautiously working their way through the swamps back to their ships. nats Loat -resuigo. The prisoner in cell No. 1 was making a great noise ns Court opened~ recently in D~etroit, and lie wvas therefore brought, out, tirst. Hie was a stout, thick-set mian with short, hair iand milk white eyes, and lhe be lieved hinself to be a miountain lion ot thie fiercest order. He caime out, on a (lance, with a half-concealed war-hoop in Is teeth and Bijath rather expected he would raise a fuss. ''Is your name William 111ll?" aoftly in quiredl the Court. '"01d tman, you bet!'" was the ready ro ply. "'See here, Willitam," continued hits Ihonor, "'t'is Court is not an od1 nia neither doth lie bet,. Don't make use of auny more mucli language. Now, thien, you were drunk yesterdiay." "You beth' "Prisoner, ti court dloeban't bet, and if it has to inform you of that fact again, it may have to add sixty days to your senm tence. D~o you pleadl guilty &r iiot gimil ty?' "Jedlge, I was dlruniker'n a beer bar'l.I was flghting drunk. I was j ust in the eon dttiont to chiaw up half the police force In this one-hoise four-cornters. Jedge, let me1 out long enough to flap my wings and give ia crow which caun be heard four miles magin a stilt wmtdl'" "'William Hill, I think I know what ails you, ' qjuietly remarkead the c uimt after looking himt over. ''You atre aciming to ftall against, somie consumpnitive Detroiter, abhott nyve feet who wid aih you flatter tana sole leather. You evidently thtinik yourself a tarantulai, but you atu nothing bitt a rab bit. Instead of being a terror, you are a musaBmnce', and I shmall send( yOur to thle Work liouse " -Judge, I'mi from Arkansas, and I toll you l'm dangerons." "Pool i shall send you up for thirty' (lays, thme samte as anty eonnon dIrunkard." ''Don't disgrace mie, Jud~ge. Make it sIx months, at least. Think of the' story going back to Arkansas that I was senst up on a horse ly Sentence." lint lis Homnor was obstInate, and the prisoner sat down ont a naIl keg in the cor ridlor, and said ne'd have to kill one of the guardls at the Work House to restore his lost prestige. Amni mot timlpeu, maIUI otniae L4,Va mu a Lute. bur, keuj at up. home in Engiand and America. At present there is no comparison be tween English and American homes. America has not the house, the servants, nor the inducements that belong to the home life of England. In the first place, the wooden house of the country districts of America is a poor substitute for the English cottage or villa. This will be strikingly apparent to Americans traveling for the first time through Great Britain. There Is no exaggeration of sentiment in the tributes which poets have invariably paid to "the cottage homes of England.' The humblest peasant householder in the country districts has often a picturesque little home, with a flower and kitchen gu den, altogether superior to the American villa one sees at outlying places along the railway routes. To 4bave a house of his own is the chief an)bitioa pf an English man. Except in London and other large cities, no young man dreatns of marrying until he has furnishdd a house ani can literally take his wife "hoine." Even in large cities it is a most rare and unaccus tomed thing to see a la'nily dining out at a restaurant. Home means more in Eng land than in America, and the home life of New York bears no comparison to that of Loddon, The lack of a thoroughly settled class of men and women devoted to domes tic service In America has much to do with this; so also, of course, have the heavy rents of good houses. The artisan's cottage and the inididle class house of England are almost unknown in the great cities of America. Boston, Philadelphia and Chi cago have more to show in tie direction than New York. Yet with jhese advan tages on the side of England, where the sanctity of home is a sort of religion, we exhibit to Americans at every street cor ner, a sight which is peculiarly sad and loathsome-women drinking at public bars. women with babies in their arms tak ing gin at all hours of the day, woineu often reeling into the streets i a state of drunkenness. There is no deeper stain on tie imoral escutcheon of Ureat Britain than this public scandal, except it be the open and shameless solicitation by a crowd of prosinutes in the' West End streets from dusk till long after midnight of every day that conies. It would seem as if the high est virtues and the lowest vices traveled along side by side in the English meitropo lis. Poverty andi wealth meet here oftener face to face and exist closer together than in any other metropolis the world has ever Heelt, loodious anmputation. Within the last, five years surgical science has made some wonderful inptovements in its operations, among which may be imentioned the grafting of humaa skin and freezing witi oiher spray tumors to be operated upon; but nothing that modern surgeons have achieved is so calitated to ease mankind and preserve life as the in vention of the Esmairche bandage fo. by all the surgeons of Cleveland, and almost unknown to the physicians of the back country. There Is uscd an elastic bandage of rubber and cord, called from the French surgeon who invented it the Ihaiwtrche bandage. which is wrapped very Lightly about the leg or arm to be operated Upon. The - wrapping begins at the ox treinity of the limb and is continued to a point about, the place of' cision very tight ly. The wrapping drives all the blood from the limb. At the top of the bandage a tourniquet Is placed, which gives a heavy pressure upon the principal artery. The bandage is then removed, and the opera tion is )erforied. Amputations are made by this plan where the knife Is unstained, anid not at drop of blood is shed duriig the cision. The flesh is white, and the opera tion niay be performed with miore case thtau when, as formerly, tho blood was spurting forth. All time blood of the body is saved to strengthen the patienit. By this method hiunidreds ox lives have been raved dwruing Iast year. After the limb has been ampu tatted the blood must be allowed to flow a little ini order that the arteries may be dis covered anid bound up. In no ease, by this inethod, is over an ounce of blood shed. By tate o d method patients of ten died upon thme amputating couch, or noon afterwards, f romi excessive hemnmorrhage. Like all new methods, it is blindly rejected by old school pmhysicians, who regard nothing good save thme antiquated. Lot, Go Thea aight was dark, and the yacht un der double-reefed sails, the sea heavy. In rouandiang the yacht up in the wind it was necessairy to take the sails ini quickly, and let go thme anchor before the yacht foil oli in the trough of time sea. 1 gave orders tu any old frienid, Jimmy M-, a three years cruiser in the rebellion, a good sea man and a thorough disciplinarian, to let go. Jun, why in thunder don't you lot go ?" "All gone, sir," was the stern re sponse. I heard a splash in thme water, and as the anchor still remained on the yacht's bow, and the yacht rolhing heavily iai the trough of the sea, I ran forward just iai time to save one of our orewv, Billy W r, from a watery gmavo. lie had fallon overboard, and Jiaimy was just lift ing him over the lee rail, wiaen I sang out to 'let go,' meaning tho. ganchor. l1e promptly obeyed orders anid W - went back into thme river. dome one was roughly pulled over the yacht's clock like a 'swab, and dumped dlown thme after comn panionway. I asked Jimmy the iiext mnorninig, as we rode quietly on tame placid waiters, why he did not pull W--r all thme way out on clock. 'Why, captain,' said lie, 'I had lham half over the lee rail, whieai you ordered me to 'let go,' and, Cap tain, 1 never dlisobey orders.'' What, They llought. "My children," said a Now Haven man to his son and daughter, both along In their teens a trile, "if I should give you each five dollars, what would you do with it I'' "I wordd buy something to read," replied the boy, the light of intelligence beanimng across is counmenance. "And 1," said the girl, with enthusiasm, "would buy some thing to wear." "You both do yourselvoe credit. It is natural that a boy just on the verge of inanhood should sock to improve his mInd, and girls of your age, my dear," as he stroked her curls, "always are think ing of good clothes. Here is the monoy, use your judgment, both of. you." The boy bought a full coleD 4"Wild Bill; or, Life on thme Plisni n the gui a live-dollar set of diatnohd jedetry.