University of South Carolina Libraries
- " yWINNSBORO S. C.. JULY 21, 1883. - - - - 883 masTED HOPE. He softly whispered in her ear "Shall we to the cafe Meander now my little dear?" She never spoke hin nay. They at them down, the nian and mnaid, 'Then did he gently (1ath; "Wilt thou have cream or lemonate?" She simply answered "both." The smiles that erstwhile wreathed his ettek Now siuply flided thonce For tho' each pocket he dl'seek, He found but twenty cents. He said, "My dear, a man I see Who owes inc dollars seven " Then from the roo:n he swift did flev To breathe the air of Heaven. The maiden she did sit and wait. . Her nice young man's returning, But. ne'er a waiter brought the >lato. Of eream her hea it was yearni ug. And still she sits with ashen lip, And neither sound nor moltioi, As silent as a ehronlo ship ' On a1 lithographic ocean. UAIUtADINE'S LOVE.. Carradne sat alone at his easel paint. ing; and as he painted he thought Eight years before, when lie was a poor, struggling boy, just entering on that race which must be run by every aspir ant to art and its honors, there happened to him something which neither time nor toil had ever been able to efface from his memory. As he was passing along the streets a wreath of fragrant roses suddenly fell on his head, and look. ing up in wonder lie beheld, reaching out from the embroidered draperies of an overhanging window, a child, with fairy-like proportions, with great dark eyes and long, curling black locks, who stood smiling and throwing him kisses from her curved lips, colored like a pomegranate. When she still gazed, a nurse had come forward and drawn the child away; the curtains were closed, and he saw the little creature no muore. Such was the vision that the artist had carried so long in his memory; in his memory only, for he had no second glimpse of the child. That very day an accident occured which kept him ia prisoner mn his roomn for several weeks, and when next he went out the house was empty. and a placard with greatflar ig letters an nounciing it for smle stared him in'the face, from the same window im which the little, white-robed elf had stood wavimg her hand and smiling to him. In course of time other faces ap peared there, but they were strange faces, and among them was never the one for which he looked. Now, as Carradine sat Painting alone, lie thought of all this: of the struggle that had ended at length in success, of h int w r.I ia ,I ,. ,O &gm the~ 'Mttl ThX11Th;"'11ller fr'agrant rose crown, which had seemed alinost like a prophecy. That rose wreath, dry and withered now, was all that was left to himi of the fair vision; but when that morning in turning over an old port folio, lie had come upon it by chance it spoke to him of that by-gone day just as eloquently as when its blossoms were fresh and full. "Eight years ago " he said, thought fully, letting the shriveled circles slip through his fingers slowly. "She must be 16 now-if she lives. If? No, I do not doubt her living presence-some where. I wonder where she is now,and what she is like at 16?" With that lie placed the wreath beside his easel and began to paint. The face, as it grew on his canvas, presented a young girl in the dewy morning blush o irsi, youth, with :ti duw ii the greaai, dark eyes and a half-snile about the bright curled lips, like an embodied summer sumn-shower. It.was thus that the artist pictured his idea of the chil woman, whose inifantile look and smile for eighit long years haid beent his owii (dream of love. Carradine hatt not had an easy life. Aln orphan from his earliest years, poor and unfriended, lhe had studied hard for the means to gratify that inherent idola try for art which was always clamorimig toe lhd foughtio mid fom n coloring. He hd fugh an hehadwon; but now, at 26, lie stoodl ini the p)lace which lie had gainedl for himself almost as much alone at the very heart as lie had C been eIght years before, when the child's gift camne to him as a p)rophiecy. It was not that lie was friendless. Tihiere were men who liked and sought him, women who would gladly have taught him to forget his loneliness in their affection. Bunt though his nature resp)onded rapidly to any kindness, there S was one chord, deeper thman all, that re mained untouched, and( from the sweet est glances his thoughts went back to time unknown child that had smiledl diown to him so long ago. The ideal hieadl became his great source of enjoyment, and a dreamy softness shaded lis dark-grey eyes, as li no by line and tint by tint took him back into the past, which all lifeless as it was, seemed to him, In those moments, more real than the busy present. Yet now, in reviewing that one bright vision of his memory, it was niot so much the lovely child that lie saw In fancy as thme beau tiful girl whose face, with fuller dhepth anid sweetness, looke~d out ait himti from his own canvas. Intictv lie hardly knew wvhy, hedisliked to work on this p)ictuire in any other presence, and lie (devoted to it only lis hours of solitude. So It happened that It was nearly finished when by some chance a friend dis covered him bending over it, too ab sorbed to hear any ap)proach. As the door opened Carradine rose hastily, turning hisa easel to the 'wall, so as to conceal the face upon it. This little stratagem, however, was destined to be ,of no avai'l, Having been marked by thme Intruder, one of those cordial, well - meaning people, good-natured to a dbe gree, but with little delicacy of precep tion-the action at once aroused lis curiosity. " Aha, master painter," lhe said, with a laugh "let us see what it Is that you work aL by yourself till it steals away your eyes and ears. Only one peepi" e frame and receiving no forbidding word from bardn,turned it round. The next mmnhewas loud in praise. " But wh sit, Cardn? It is a portrait, tell me whore to find the original, and I will, if it is a seven days journey IN Carradine smiled. "If I myself knew where to fim such an original I should not be here t< tell you, my good friend." he answered evasively. " Oh, a fancy sketch " said the other mnialed, as the artist had desired. " ] might have saved myself the trouble of asking. No real flesh and blood fac( ever looked like that-more shame t< nature, I say. Of course you will ex. liibit it. Carradine?" "Nol" answered the palnter, quietly, No!" repeated the other, in sur prise. " But imy dear fellow, you must or I shall betray your secret, and yoi will have a swarm of visitors, worst thania plague in Egypt, lot in upo1 you." Carradine hesitated. A chance word in his friend's speech had suggested a possibility that made his heart leap in spite of sober reason. -" You are right,'' he said. '' I shall send the licture for exhibition. [twill be better so." After his visitor had left him alone again, Carradine bent low over his easel. gazing into the lovely, upturned face, until it began to fade into the gather ing twilight. It-it!'' lie inurmured to himself, half unconsciously. " But it cannot be. Yet I will send it-and perhaps-' And so the picture was sent in (11ue time; and it seemed almost as i? Carra dine's soul had gone with it and drawn him to follow. Ihour after hour, and day after day, he sat in the gallery scru tinizimlg eagerly every face and the visitors whom taste and fashion had brought to look at the now celebrated artist's latest success. Every night lie went away unsatisfied, and every morn nimg lie returned with hope springing afresh in his heart. Still, the object of his search, what ever it may have been, does not appear; and one day, discouraged at last, lie re solved to go no more on so fruitless an errand. Shutting himself in his studio, he began to paint, but strive as lie would lie could command neither hand nor fancy. Finally tired of repeated failure, be abandone work, and yielded to an impulse which drew his steps in the customary direction. When lie entered the small side room in which his picture hung lie found but two persons within, a young man and a girl. Carradine could not see the faces of these two, but, with an earnestness for which lie was at a loss to account, lie followed their retreating figures as they moved slowly toward his picture. But the next moment an exclamation of astonishment burst from the lips of the ".^ If,";-mreisvoil rlan T.Ai%I, What does it mean? Who can the painter bb?" With that lie hurried out to purchaQe a catalogue. Carradine advanced quick ly to the girl. " I an the painter," he said. She turned and looked at him with one steady gaze from those glorious eyes that had haunted his visions for so many years. Then she spoke: "You painted that picture? and how?" "From remembrance," he answered. " It was my only tribute to the little unknown princess who crowned me once with roses. Does she, too, re member it?" For a moment doubt. was in her face; but as he looked at her it vanished in certainty. A smile touched her bright " It was you, then, on. whom I forced my roses? A princess who gave away honors unmasked. I[ow often .I have wvonderedl since-" She sto1pped, turned to the canvass, 1an11 ad(ded, abruptly." " But I was a child then, and here--" " Iere you- are a womnan," said1 Carra dIiine, compl)etinlg the uinspo'ken sentence. "It is so hard to understand. Th'le same powecr that kept the child in my heart showed me inito what shev would She dhid not look at him now, but at the picture, as she asked him in a low voice, "' And whom aim [ to thanumk for such an honor?'' "My name is IIubert Carradine," he answered, and saw at once that it was no unfamiliar wvord to her. "' And yours? Through 1111 these years your face has hiauntedI meT alwamys, but your name11 1 never knew." She hesitated ai muoiment, then I urnied to him. "You never knew my nanme? Then think of me still us you ha ve thloughtf of mnc through all these yearis,"' she said, a half smile lingering ab,out heri mouth, but never lightinig the great dark that'was shauded by some subtle sadness. Tme look, thme tone, trans p)orted Carradine beyond all remem brance of place or circumstance it the unreal realm of imagination in which his wish was supreme ruler. "I have thought of you always as my life and my love,'' lie said, half con sciously, his dreamy, deep gray eyos glowing upon her face. She bluushied suddenly, 1and( then p)aled ini an instanit. J ust then her former companIIion enltered1 the room. "I amn Leilia Auvernay,"' she said, hastily, "' and this is Cecil Wyndhamn my betrothed hlusband(." Not another wordI was saidl. As the young lmani approach edl, Cam iad ine fell back a step) and looked at thme twvo. IIh! was a fair, handsome face, so little marked as yet by time, that it would bi hard for an unpractied eye to conijec tuire with what hines the shaping char aeter wvould( yet stamp It. Neverthie less, with one keen gaze Carradine esti mated both present and future. She said a few, low-spoken wor-ds tc her conmpaion, whoi( priesemntly moved toward Carradine, anid addressed him: " I have the honor of'speaking tu Mr. Carradine, the painter of this plc tur-e?" Carradine bowed without speaking. " Will you pardon me for asking if it Is a fancy sketch?" continued Mr Wyndham. "P'artly so, but suggsted by the fact of a little gir'l," answered the artist. " But the likeness Is so very strik ing," muttered the young gentleman I must have It at any rate, Of cours< The house itself, picturesque enougli even at a distance, is doubly so wheti seen close at hand, though the painted cupolas and gilded spires suggest a tus. sian church rather than an English manor holse, and the incongruous wing lately run out from one end of it im presses one like the half transformed figures in Ovid, with the horns of stags or the claws of spiders projecting from it human body. But the sternest critic could ind no fault i the ivy-wreathed trch of the gateway, the vast cathedral like windows, the clustering pinnacles u(d the qiutatit setii-ecclesiastiatl archi ecture which gives it tj hJ-"m vs wuu ramtt Int 14non.i -lrege in Oxford )r Cambridge. 'Nor could Sir Walter scott" himself have wished at finer stage ror one of his "'striking situations" than lhe great hiall with its oak panels and its itained glass windows, filled with the tdini religious light" that Milton loved, ad lhung with banners of every shape iid color, from the pelnion bearing the mle of that Sir Turold who fought at Llastings down to the )elhi Standard vichit was borne in state before his last lescendant as Viceroy of India. In stch a sanctuary of the last the Itrusion of the present seems athnlost. al acrilege. You would hardly wonder o see the two figures in armor that flank he great fire-place spriig up and extend heir spears to bar your way. A bold nan would be he who should watch here lone till midnight on the last night of Ie year, with the glootny m1on-light urning the shadows of tl banners into hreatening phantoms aind bodying forth veird, ueartlily shapes fromt the halus rades of the vast oaken gallery which vershadon s a.full thid of the entire all. Iii sucl circumnstances he imight itdeed, like an adventurous Irish friend f iine who kept watch inl a haunted otlse, "expect every molielnt the ap earance of ai invisible spirit." But mid all these ghostly associations, the earty, hospitable cheeriness 01 "Merry nugland" breaks forth unnistakably in be inscription which Ceircles the whole haiber like a garhlmd, in White let ters ii a blue ground: "neati tite redo of tilis tida ruf-tree : Here be trust f:st, opiuon free, Knightly right hand ai. Christian kni"e, Worth Ili all, wit In sorne Laughter open, slniderduiim,. IHearth where rooted flen4ships grow, Safe as altar, even to fte ; And the sparks that upv.t go wien the hearth linnedies below, If thy sapy In them maybe, Fear no winter, old rotf-tree Eveii more interestug, though less loomily impressive, th the adjoining Ilamiber, with its pr'jecting manitifel Ig ye. ' ' i3 s 21ra IV. righitest and basest of Engli sover igns, in all the fullness of hu sleek, Iger--like beauty, a marked cUitrast ideed to the (Inlet, comlmanding face of Ienry V., (no longer bearing any trive f the wild Prince I[al of Shakespeare,) lho looks lowNv upon 11s with the same tern calmness werewith lie watched the rmel thousandtls of France surging up round his little handful of starving ien through the cold white mist of Lgincourt. And at the far end of the 00111 stands a small glass case, brimful ,f historical relics that would have xcited the envy of IIorace Walpole him elf, foremost anim g which appear the ntique inkstand that figured in the ebates of the long Parlament, ere ,ronnwell came. to "purge the floor," nd a lock of hair clipped fron Nelson's orpke on the night. of that famous bat le-Sabbath in Trafalgar Bay 78 years go. The Library contains one curiosity, a lock mnade at the Industrial School of eypur, the capital of one of the niative tates of Western lIdia4 lt is a queer ffair altogether, to all appearanice en irely without works, and looking v'ery 11uc1 like a lamp chimney suirmuiinted y an eye-glass. Passing the foot of tile reat staircase-which is sentinteled by life-like oil p)ainting of Lo0rd Beacons ld-we enter the p)ortrait gallery, now 100ded( with a series of glory biy the Stml glht which is streamning through the rimnson curtailns, andi( gi vinig add(edl color nd beauty to the grand procession of istoricai faces alonig either wall. 11ere, elying her masculine dress by the vol ptuous softness of thme features that, ithrahlel Charles II., appiears "wiild .ucy Walters,'" mothler of that ill-fated )uke of Montmouth Avhiose rash clttch ,t a crowni to wvhich lie had no claim, trought d1owni upon Western Enigland( torrors wvorse than those of Cawnpore. lore looks out from beneath his massive orehecad, the large, thoughtful, earnest sye of bir Thomas Moore, the no(blest nan oif his day in Englandl, anud, there Cor*e as a matter of course, sent out oif Enlglandl and the world by the heads. ruan's aLxe as speedily as8 poss5ible. ILer( Itandls Anne of Austria, Louis X[L['s tmifaithful Q~ueen, imp)risoned In a tight waistedl scarlet dress, and showing little >f the beauty wvhich cap)tivatedl the vola tihe D)uke of Buuckinlghiam, but much of Uhie haughtiness w~hich she bequeathed to her son Louis XIV. IIere, in the Lommland ing aittitutde which dIismnayedl the fi ercest Ilevoluitionists of France, Lowers the colossal uglliess of Mirabeau, half redleemied1 1)y the stern, dlaring, :launtless spirit that looks through It. A ndt here, last andt greatest of all, standt brave Robert Blake, on the stern and solemn beauty of whose noble face rests the samie look of cahnt and fearless self reliance with which he confronted the pikes of Goring andt the caninon of Van Tromphi or sailed foremost Int,o the hell fire of the Tunis corsairs at Goletta. Beyond the portrait gallery lies the study where the hate Lord Lyttoni used to write, which is as simple as the im1 mediate surroundinugs of famous men01 should always be. A small room, a plai central table, a bust of the Khedive, ant a cast of Michael Angelo's Moses on thi miantel-piece-nothing mocre. Butt thi fine oriel wilndow and the beautiful view which it commands are a sufficient orna ment In themselves. Light, airy, cheer fuli, this little sanctuary of art contrasti very pleasantly with the gloomy grandl eur of .the antique chambers and dini corridors bverhead. Had any one wished to confer a priceless benefit upon th< late Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, it should you will part with it--at your own price?" "' 'he picture is not for sale " sa id 1 Carradine, quietly. still regarding the young man with that cool, steady gaze which had already caused him to be tray a hesitation, almost confusion, very unlike his usual easy confidence. lie [ seemed to have an instinctive knowl edge that the art ist was measuring him, and to shrink from that measurement with uneonscious dread. Carradine saw Leilia Auvernay once more before she returned to her home in a distant town. Then he took his picture from the Academy walls and hung it. in his studio, where his eyes coulk find it whenever he looken away from his work, For he did not give up work; ynt. among tihmnisolvcs, his friends pronounced him an altered iatt, atn(d marveled what had caused so subtle a difference. Always silent, he now seemed to live in an ideal world of li. own; and whatever he might occupy himself with there was that in his manner which appeared to imply that it was oily a temporary diversion until the coming of sonie event for which he was waiting. So passed half a year, at the end of which there came a letter to Carradine. It was very brief, but it was enough to assure hit of that which he had been alnost unconsciously' expect inig. The letter was from Leilia Auvernav. I lie went to her at once. She met him I with a laughing light in her eyes such I as lie had not seen there when sue stood in the gallery beside her betrothed t husband---a light which recalled the t merry child who had smiled down on him so long ago. "Mr. Carradim-,' she said, '' I toll t you that my fortune was gone, but I did c not tell you how utterly it had been swept away. I amtit nothing better than i a beggar. Will you take me as one of c yout; st"udents, for charity's sake?" IIe looked searchingly into her siiil- l ing face. a " And Mr. Wyndhatm?"' he asked, in a low voice. I She replied without, so tuch as at flush of emotion: c " Mr. Wyndhami has gone with the ( rest of my worldly possessions. Did I not say that I had lost everything? You see, Mr. Carradine, that I am not of as much worth now as my picture." '1'he words as she said them (id not. seem bitter. .ie took her hands. Leilia," lie said, "does your loss Make you unhappy?" ")o I look so?" she asked, gaily. . As for the marriage, it was my father's wish, anud to gratify his dying request I consented-before I knew my own heart. ." IIere a quick vivid g color shot into hr cheek, but she went c i1-oW ' VtWp,qnoney is lioe~thiir 1 1uO1 wHrGn tvui.. .muo. r t u t to blame hin." Carradine's grasp tightened on her hands. t " Leilia," lie said, ": once your answer put a bar between us whetn I spoke i words that were surprised out of my heart. Would it be so now if I should say them once more? My love, my life, will you come to me?'' " Will I come?" she repeated, look ing up in his eyes and dlrawiig nearer, r until his arms silently folded about her. And sqo Carradine found his love at last. C Crook's Suocess. Gen Crook seems to have ltiished ( very thoroughly the work of crushing ( the Apaches, which lie began sonic years a ago. By his former campaign they c were all subdued except a parcel of t Chiricahuas, anid the work wvould doubt- a less have been completed had niot Gen. Howard arrived on the ground, stopp)ed c the filghttiing, and(l made a treaty wvitht , the savages which p)rovedl very unfortu- 6 nate. By its terms the Indlians merely 6 undertook to keep the peace, and in re- t turn govermentt gave them the use of a large tract of land in Arizonta on the i Mexican line, wvith absolute freedom ~ upoit It. Situated in this way, the In- e dians broke their p)romnise at the flrst j opportunity, almtost as a matt,er of course, and have since kept up a coin stant succession of bloody raids. They e could go into Mexico, kill and burn and rob) unitil p.ursucd, then return across the line and scatter so ail to make their cap)ture anid idenitificationi practically ittpossible, or comminit depredations in Arizona and New Mexico and flee to the Sierra Madre mntountaints ini Mexico, adjoining their reservation. Finally the band was ordered to go to the San1 Carlos reservation, which lies in Ari-1 zona further itorthi, but only a few obeyed. 'lThe others merely pretended to move into Mexico, and have sinice doged back and forth and carried ont thteir murdering andi( pillage wvith more ferocity tihan ever Tihe war so fortunatoly endeld biegan with tihe mrdr(er, of Judge McComnas and1 wife and the capture of thteir eight years-old sont at Thompson's Canont, March 27. A pursuit at the titne wvas unsuccessful, amid Geon. Crook went to thte Mexican states of Soitora atnd Chii huahua, consutlted wvitht the mi lit ary anid civii authorities there, atnd then organized a force to follow thte savages into the mounttains, the Mexican troops co-operating. Th'le terms of omt treaty with Mexico (10 not permit a crossing of the line by troopis except ini . actual. hot pursuit of Idians, of course Crook's expedlitiont plaily overstepped this, aitd there w~as conisequenttly some1 wvorryinig by overatnxious souls li both couiitries, butt it is ito secret t hat both goverunents knew all about, thte operation atnd wore glad to do the ntecessary winkitig. Al though at last reports Juhi, the miost mischtievous of all the muirderig horde, was still at large with sonic of his batnd, the capture theni miadle was so large as to be coitclusive, aind doubtless thte othters will yet come In or be brought in. Just what will be done with them remains to be seetn, bitt of course they wihll hereafter be kept under some sort 'of restraint. Merely as a matt6r of , money, the govertiment could better affort to keep the whlole lot at first 3 class hotels thani to have them roving at wlhl again. ..The assessed property of Ahabatma SIs $150.000,000. certainly have taken the form of a month's residence in one of these roonl of state. how that truly great nuui Would have reveled in such att unexpect ed supply of recesses, hangings, cabinet: and presses of carved oak, for the con venience of the ghosts, demons, corpse, and other festive personages in which he delighted. Herne, the Ilunter, him. self woukd have found ample scope here for that troublesome gift of popping ul through the floor or coining flying down the chimney with which he made him. self such a nuisance in Windsor Castle in the days of Ilenry VIII. What material, too, would any adventurous Syovelist find in the Latin inscription the ghostliest of the upper. ioom.s: "In this chamber slept Queen Elizabeth, after the defeat of the Armada by English arms in 158R.'' It. is true that there is still reason to doubt whether good Queen Isss ever visited KnebwortIh at all; but. this is a trifle to all trute be. ievers inl the romnantic, who may console theniselves with the assuaince that this is the chamber in which she would haie slept if she had. In one of the ante-roonms a little fur ther oti is another relic whicli might furish Mr. Wilkie Collins with the plot of a new "Moonstonte." Just In front of the window stands a niinature thIrone curiously carved, all. of solid silver. It is flanked on either side by a. Ilight of steps of the same metal, guaarded by a groul of silver figures in l'astern dress, and is suirmotited by a canopy, on which sits a large bird, holdinlg in its beak a splendid emerald. Such an or miatent lmilight Warren Ilastings have placed in the vestibule of )aleslord, or Clive in the hall of his stately houlse at, Claremont; but its inresentce here is equally appropriate, for it is the gift of one of the llindoo l?rinces to the man who lately ruled them in the name of the Empress of India. Such souvenirs are precious not merely fromi their in trinsic worth but from the associations entwined with them; and this throne might fitly be placed hesido the tattered banner in the hall below, (to hear which up t,he fatal hill-side of the Alma three brave men (lied in suceossiol,) as a token that the race which holds Knebwort Ih has proved its mettle on other fields he sides those of literature. As we turn to depart the western sun, now fast sinking and gathering clouds, casts one pale and momentary gleani Upon the square, massive gray tower of the ancient church of Knebworth as it stands facing the hall. Such a back ground is the fit adjunct to such a pic ture. An old village church in England is a striking and suggestive object at all times, but doubly and trebiy so when 4li5Ah#,*QIg9uuenmce of a n grandeur of an anion4 '..."'fhp jig of a world wide reputat ion; onithe or, this mute symbol of that power to which all the might of man is nothing, and of that grave In which man himself lies as low as the beasts that perish. Like the skeleton at the Egyptian banquuet, like the black robe over the throne of Sala diu, stands this sombre memento amid the leafless woods opposing its stern simtlplicity to the pomp and glitter of the ancient mansion. Here must all the paths of life, however diverse, meet at last. To this goal tend alike the Nor man noble whose baner floated by Duke William's side at Hastings and the hob nalled clown who hardly knoiva his own grandfather. But when the dread shadow has fallen which makes all menl equal, the deeds that shine brightest through its gloom are not always those which poets have sung and nations vauinted. Were all the exploits of Walter Scott's miighity genius forgotten to-day, his memory wouldl still be hleldl sacred ini ev'ery A nglo Saxon heart oni either side of the Atlan tic as the simlhe, kindly, truc-heiartedl mani whlo s, warn:!y held (out the right, hand ot tfriend(shilp to young Warmshingtoni Irving wvhen the latter was st.ill but a p)rivate ini thme great literary army wvhicha lie was onie (lay to 'ommandili(. Mlore precious by far than all the nioisy p)raises which rewar'ded ' illairie's long war against God and1( man were thme unheard lessinigs of the poor Swiss peasants whom lie savedi from the tax that was crushinig them. The ahins houses bu~ilt in Knmebw'orth vilage by the late I,ord L1ytton's mother are a higher tribuite to her mieniory thani evein the graceful imnuet and1( tonchinig (epitapuh raised to it by her famous son beneath thme shadle of his ancestral woodls. By these things men liv'e wvhen the hollow ap pilauises of dIrawing roonms and thme lying eulogies of critics have ret uirned to eonm genial not hingniess.' Order ON ti,e F'arm. Many farmers fail in making tne farms profitable for want of order. Whethe~ir on a small farm where the work Is all (lone by the owner, or oni a large farmn.whierC several hands are employed, ther0 must, hiC an early and regular hour for rising In the morning. Each hand or man should knovi the evening previous just what lie ms to dc in the mormnng, and if possible for thme en Itire day. If chores are his first employ ment, then ho can go at them withoul waiting for orders.,I i e Is to use a team. then he can have it fed, currIed an(t liar, nessed ready. TLhie wagon or implemoni be is to use can be oiled andi in place read,) to hitch to. The proprietor must make stories short to common callers, and yet be courteous. Hie cani also by a ju.diclomu system and study of the situatIon eneomr. age any superior or ambitious help to ex. eel in their labors. Be always at home te direct. aid and counsel in all departments, Discourage all careless and loose practices Strive to-cultivate a good feeling betwcor laborer and employer. Have stated timei and rigidlly enforce them, for milking, fom commencing the regular work and for re. tirIng from the field. Make the farm pro duce superior crops .andl raise the becsl stock of all kinds. -The population of Mexico at th<i . present time is said to be 12,000,000, a .m rdwith 7,829,000 in 1856 and 0, 00 in1808. The largest proporto of die inhabitants are of the native race Mexican Indians. Although the nationa Ilanguage is Castillan, the natives stil apeals th.e languages or dialects of thiel Iancestors. L 1it1 at th,e springtlld Aruory. . The soldier's life in these piping times of peace is not so full of excite mient as he might wish, but is, liv ,no means as unpleasant as A)is been pictured. Many young .mt-i who enlist are fascinated by the-i,aiforms, tales of the rebellion and a life of ease, as it seems to thelt; and when they find that they are expected to work nine hours a day the enthusiasm is dampened, and they want to got out. From the dis satisfaction of this class has doubless arisen the prejudice against peaceful army life. But there is another side to the question. The average uoidex .n i"'',",t"M~ i." z& Liudo and 4youn)1 have to w )rc as a comnon, laborer If lischargecd. It is said, howover, that he would get more pay, and qo It seems at a glance, but there it really very little diifference between the remuner atioi of the soldier and laborer. ''h1e former receives froni the government his board, clothes and fIomu $13 to $25 i ltotit.h. 'Ie' average is not far frot $18, or $210 a year. The day laborer Work ing :300 days a year at $2 a (lay re ceives $600. As good hoard aid lodg ing as the soldier has will cost at least $5 a week, or $200 a year. .)educt lug this and $100 for clothes from his full 1pay, he has left $240, or $-1 dollars a year more than the soldier. But the mnC are not all lunedicatecl. One or two in the service here have been through college amd many are well-read. Soie muen enlist to receive tihe restraint which the soldier is necessarily held inder. And this is one way in which ariIy life cloes good, A imna whose passion for hiquor is irresistible, cannot devise a sal'er protect ion than that of the army. Tme lives of many men have tilltestionably been prolonged by the restriction unltcder which they have been placed. 'T'lhis restraint is, of course, i rksome and d isagreeable, bi it is sonic ml'onysalvationi. J)issatisllcel sol diers resort to all sorts of expedients to get away. One German said that he got "so drulnk ish never vas'' in the hope that Ie would be discharged, but, the scheme was too transparent. 1)e sertions have beroine so 1'requenit, that. I Gen. Shernian argues that it would be t advisable to lessen the soldier's work; btt it is a strauge fact that. gluite a large percentagc of deserters afterward give theimselves up, It, is seldom that any two give the saine reason for coiuing back. One could not overcome the fas cination which had increasedl while he served, another repented front consci entiotls motives, and still another found that his lot as a soldier wasn't so very hart alter all. But the prejudice against artny life has become so strong that there are very few enlistment.s lowadays, and mn will probably have q be transferred froin line service to T.1) -Janla o11 to be vacated here is chosen after livO yars-in.-, but there is very seldom any difiiculty in a disehargel soldier's obtaining a place. Some of them make the most of their time when ini the service and collie out fitted for positions, which they were wholly unable to fill when they enlisted. Many becomie police men; and almost invariably make good ones. Fully one-half of the Waslhing ton police force is composed of dis charged solliers, and one of Spring field's best oflicers lived 10 years within the iron fence. A Morpbut in a siaft. At this time of the year dangerous rep. tiles are mi.st frequently seen in Now Mexico, and are most aggressive. Recent ly two prosp)eBtors canmo Into Bocorro who relate a atrange experience they had with a rattlesnake theo week before. The par. uculars are (10wnright "sntakoy,'' and but for the reputation these mn bear for ver acity, we would not publish thorm. In prospecting about fifteen miles east of L'i Joya they found copper float, and separa tedi to trace It to the load. One of thenm, E~d. Bennett, on reaching a small hill, dia covered an 01(1 shaft. Hie fired a shot to n:>tify his partner andt boegan explora tions. The shaft looked to be about forty feet~deep, and about feet dlistant thero was an incline connecting with it. lie pro pared to descendi by this. When nearly at, the bottom the loose wash gave way, and he was precipitated dlownward. Heu shouted out Lo hIs p)artner, and was pre paring to look around. when to uls horror he discovered that lia descent had stirred up a rattlesnake. T1he blood- curdlinog warning was rattling hiribly in the silent hole and caused cold.aweat to ooze fronm the prospector's forehead. The glistening eyes of tue rentile shone upon him in the gloom, but hie was too unused to the place to distinguisht further. Hie retreated to a coiner, and as the shaft was a large one about eIght feet square-he had time to seime a rock and prepare himself. The serpent followed, andI springing at him struck its fangs into the top of his large prospecting boots, and coiled about his legn, At this timte he could see his aur roundhings, and with a (desperation equal to the occasion, and before the reptile had time to withdraw its fangs, lie grasped Its scaly neck and closed his hand with a vise. like grasp. Then ensued a contest beotween man and reptile, dlesperation and - fury. Trho huge serpent alternately tightened its enemy's- leg till the blood ceased to circu late, and shook Itself in the vain endeavor to wriggle from th e Iron grasp. Its horrid rattling denoted its furious straggles. TIhn prospector heard the hliscs, c-uld see the bright greenish eyes flashing fire and feel the wiggling of the scales a~s ho held the snake, but whether standing or thrown to the ground or lashed by the tail of his ag gressor, he held his grip, Hie WOUh(i occa sionally yell in the hope of reaching the ears of his partner. For at least a quarter of an hour the struggle continued, the prosp)ector the while growing weaker, keeping the fangs Irom his body, but feel ing thaut his enemy was slowly eheking to death. Its lashing became slow, it writhed less, and finally, after one last struggle, was gead. 'The prospector continued his yells until his partner came, being too weak to rise. - After some trouble he was raised to the isurface, still grasping the serpert with his widely distended mouth and protruding I fangs. It was a long time before ho could 11 renew circulation in his leg, and he is r limping yet. The snake measurod twelve feet, and 'tad eighteen rattles. a..' -& LA l1.J. J.i U ! c^Si THE VERDICT -OF T H E J PEOPLE. BUY THE BEST! Ma. J. 0.OAtt i-Doa Sir : I bought tho a Davis Mac hin e u . Mrsago. Isfeld r' 'a' a onuhit ao unning f.6 oa4t ith t need levewould g t er- :Lr , rouble, add is as good as11 *4lt{. t fA' ecisneb,rom, . C., Apri f8e3. c e o Mr. BOAG: YOU wish t0 know what [ have to say in regard to the Davis Machine bought of yyou .hree yer ago. I feel I can't may too much in f avor. i nlade abwit 180,1W within live months, at times teflylytt,prom fiction. I fecidcon(leni Iecould not have (lone the same work with as nauc ease .ni so well wit i any other machine. No tline lost in adJastlng :ttachmetnts. The lightest running nachine I have over treadled. BrotherJanesandt W lllauns' fanilles are as much pleased with their Davis Mactines bought or you. I want no better ulachne. As I salt before, I don't think too tnuch can be said for the Davis Machine. Itespectfully, F.tlril"^l t'ot nty, Apri', 1%1. .N STIVRJs, acti. BOAU : Mt tchtne gives Ime perfect sails1 acttn. 1114 inciio fault with it. The attacltiRents it t al nple. I wish for no better than the Davis Respectfully. F"airflih cotunty, A pri1184 RS.Au. 1R. M\In.t.lt. Miu. Ilo.m: I h' uglt a Davis Vertical Feed 4ewig Machine from you four years ago. I alu elighted with it. It never has given me any rounle, and hts never been the least out of order. It Is as gooi as whetn I irt bought it. I utln :tieerfully reconminenl it. ltieslectfttlly, Mlotil heilo, Atnril :I0, 18811. M. J. KllnglA\n, '1This Is to certlfy that I have be0en tIsing a Davis ,erttc.i Feed Sewing Machine for over tw ,years, urchasel of Mr. J. 0. Ilo.g. I haven't found it 'assesset of any fault-all tile attachuents are so inl {Ie. It nevrrefuases to work, and is certainly ho ihtest running in the lugket. I consider it ilrat.clais llach ine. 'ery respect fully Oaklan'l, Farfieldl cout nty , S .N. C. at IIOAG : 1t1:in welt plcaseti in every partlcula VIlh the Davis Machilln nought of you. I think it tlrat.-casa lichine in every respect. You know on Hold several mtachines of the same make to iltterent mleinters of our families, all of whom, is far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfuly, Alas. M. If. M011.KY. Fatirlid nltl y, April, iss:. 'IThis ls to certtIy we have ha I In co'l-tiant use te D.ivis tachlue bought of you about three years Hil{l'i.' "heidin{.le,. .ave maade the1 lutl wish no better macnue, -----. CATIui1tINs WY.I AND SIrkit. A pi'1 23, 18 <.'s:' I have no fault to findl with. my mich ne, and lon't wanit any b'etter. I have mn tie ttIe prktlt o1 several titnes by taking in sew ng. It is always cadty to do its work. I thInk it a tirst-class mi: hite. I feel I can't say too much for the D1). 'crtical Feed Machine. Ms. TraloAs Surt'ri. uirtliehll county, April, 1853. Mit. J..0. O Atl-Dear Sir: It gives ine miucit pleasure to testify to the merits 0. the Davis Ver ical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of you about llve years ago. has been almost in con itant use ever since that tine. I cannot see that it is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for repairs slice we have hail it. Ant well pleased ud don't, wish for any better. Yours truly, hOOT. CR a wFOnLti (Granite Quarry, near Winnsboro S. C. We'havo utse'd the Davis Vertical Feed -Sewing .Machine for ile last ive years. We wvould not have nny othe~r .nake at ny. price. 'llTheItacine nats givenI tus uinbounttle(l sattisfactionl. Very respect futly, Must. Wv. K.'lTUaNn AND DAdUeuTsasj ilayit ioutght a Davis Yertical 'Feed Sewing Mlachine iroin Mr. .J. 0. hloag 50111e th'ree years' ago, atnd It havinig gven tile poriect satisfaetton Int every respect asa lamuily machine. both fdr haay imnd light sewing, ancil tnever needled the least re pair in any way, I can ciheerftt Ily. recomnerd it to any one as a flrst-chtssa mchinle e very particu ar, atnd think it aecondu to none. It Is one of tile sirnplest mnachitnes madle; tmy chldmen use It with at case. 'The atttachtuen :u are more easily ad nastetd and) it does a greater range of work by neans of its Verticatl Feed thatt any other ama chitne Iihatve ever sceit or ilseul. Mas. 'TrOM Asi Owimis. Winnsb ir ', l"airtield cout.y, 8. V. We haive hadl one of the D)avis Macnines abotti foor years and have always foutnd it, ready to do all kinds of work we have hadl occasion to do. Cana't see that the machtne Is wornl ally, anld works as well tas witen new. Mus. WV. J. CIIA*VORD, Jackson's Creek, F?airfild county, 8. C. My wife is highly pleasedl witit the Davis Ma chinie boughlt of you. SIlo would not take double what site gave for It. The tnaehlne has not been out of order aince ashe had it, and she can do anty kInd of work on it. Very Rtespectfully, JAB. F. Fassa. Monticello, l'airfld county, 8. U. Th'ie Davis8.ewinig MachIne Is simply a 4areaa urnMae. J. A. (JOODwYN. Itidgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, 1888. J,0 1104A0, Esiq., Agent-Dear Sir: My wafoe' has becen usIng a Davis h3ewing Machine constant ly for thme past four years, and it has never needed any re paIrs andl works just as well as when fir at bought. She says it will do a greater range of 4' practical work and do It, easIer and bet%or than any machline she has ever used. We cheerfully recommnentd It as a No. 1 family machine, Yeiny tru.y, JAB. Q. DAVIS.. WInusboro, 8. C., Jan. 8, 1888. Mx. 11A40: I have alwaya found mny DavIs Ma chinle ready do all kinds of to work I have bad oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine is worn a particle and it works as weal as when new. Respedtfully, - . MRs. R. C. GooDINO. Winnsb)oro, tt. C., April, 1888, MIt. 110A40 My wife has been constititly using the Davis Machine bought of yon about ive years ago. I have never regretted buy ing it,as t is always ready for any iddof faily sewIng, either heoavpr light. It is never out of fix or needing ,Very respetful ,7 , Palrfheld, 8. Ct., blareb* 188,