The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, July 21, 1883, Image 1
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yWINNSBORO S. C.. JULY 21, 1883.
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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,