Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1V Iut1 ' R ac 4 'AY ,t t v'r 'S'% Ji tv 4 N) + A4q 4aA h ,,.+~~~~~~~~~~~~~I 4 7 K l4 I y) > , + t1 . I + t A- 1 F,7 y l ,i 1 r 7 , 1 l } ' S' ''M ffi~~~~~, - 7 S t v , i r < i S ti rt d. , f'"> v ' V vi . 1, A d r: 1 F . .4b : 1 i tj ! I n TO.- WEEKLY I{D.ITION, WJINNSBIORO S. co::. 7SALSE 88 The - Coquetto, She's a flirt, and she knowg i Erpert, and she shows it In each'word ald act, She laughs and she chatters, Sho chaffs and she -iatters, " Mankind to distract., Her shy little glances I try, as she dances, To follow-in vain I Each man she. entrances Who can her advances Enchanting disdain) I sigh ; she is tender ; I fly to defend her From trouble or harm, Ohe smiles, and I woo her Her wiles bring me to her, Subdued by her charm. She's a witch, and she knows it She's rich-who'd supp ose it, So siniple her art? I love her-confound her I And hover around her Butihas she a heart? FRANZ. The Edelweiss is a pale little Alpine snow-flower with velvet petals, and grows in the most inaccessible spots on the mountains. Franz Stei4feldt was one of the most agile of the 4ountaineers of Zermatt and its vicinity. Where a chamois could find a fbotug, or a lammer geler makes its nes , Franz could follow, and he made qu -e a little penny during the summer a id fall months by guid ing travelers up the mountains. He had led some )f these perilous expedi tions up the Matterhorn and brought his party bac3 in safety, where others had lost the r lives, so he bore the reputation, tl ough hardly nineteen, of being the oat prudent and sure footed of the uides in Zermatt. Sometimes he earned an extra sum by getting th Edelweiss for travelers, but that was't rare occurrence. Since his father los Is life five years before, by falling i o a crevasse when in rsuit of t flower, the poor mother rowA ".t id. Steinfeldt, like his e - cautious and lucky al day. When he hgreon ice'of the never been rown she 'l.'pursuit sh-e would sigh, "how 'Americans, and French, -nglish ra, would keep away trom rmatt. 8y are mad, those people, to bribe you. to such perilous places, and thou art nad, too,. to let their gold tempt thee to, perhaps thy death." '"If the Edelwelgs grow within the reach of all men's hands, mother, who would want. it? The 'money dces not come a::Miss, -for it -helps to buy food and clothing for us, and where would Liiidu get her-ribbons if it were not for those windfalls?" "I thank God the season is over," the mother ejaculated. "The strangers are all going back home, and in winter . am In peace," "i'he last party of travlera will be here this morniug, at noon, on their way home," said Fr"anz. "I must, hurry down tQ the Rosen-haus, where they will pu up, er Herman Muller will be ahead of me. Three times this summer, with his Impudence, he has taken travelers from under my very (rose, by offering to guide them for less than Cabj- - ch, the mean fellowl" With a coc temuptuous curl of his handsome lip, she young fellow started for the t'own with the easy, springy step or a mc untain-climber. To his disgust lhe fo md that Hlermiann and some other go ides were ahead of him, but the partyi as large enough to en gage his seryic 3also. His special c uarge was an old gentle man, an Ame lean, very pompous and loud-voiced, a d Franz's experienced eye soon discov red that he was a rich 'parvenu," an< making the European tour for the fir L time. His daughter, whiom he called Rosa, and who was in a perpetual blush for her papa's terrible mistakes, was a beautiful girl of seven. teen-a fresh, gay, child-like creature -and amused Franz by her exaggeirat ed way of talking. None of the party were enthusias Ic Alpine climbers. They did noti go up high, and shunned all difficult and dangerous places. They were only climbing for the name oft the thing, and were glad enough to begin the de scent. Suddenly Rosa screamed out: "O papa, how dreadfully forgetful we have been! We haven't a bit of Edelweiss. Nobody at home will be lieve that we ever tried to climb the mountains if we do not. take back a specimen. Why, all the girls who have been.here have a spr;g in their scrap books. To be sure, it looks to. me like any other dried weed, but then for the name of the thing you knoii. "'Well, I suppose we oan pick some 8we go down," pompous. Mr. Moore said. "Watch for it, young man," to Fraux. "I s'rose you know where it grows." Franz looked at first bewildered at this speech, and then, as,the meaning dawned upon him, he smiled gravely, "It grows not here, the Edelweiss, mein herr," he said. "It is far from the trodden paths, and it is dangerous to get It." The old gentleman smiled supercil - ously. "Oh. I'm up to all that. You needn't try any of your guides' tricks on me. it's dangerous to get, is it, and it's worth ever so much because of the danger? Come, now," jingling money in his pocket, "what'll tempt you to try? What's the market value of the flower, that 'Addlewass," or w.iatever It may' be? I'll give you five dollars for a bunch." "Mein horr," said Franz, "I do not want five dollars for the flower; but simco you want one bo much, I will try to get it for you, but not for money. It does not grow on big bunches, as you think, and now, oh, it is very scarce. But perhaps one may be found, and to morrow I will bring it." He was up at daylight the next morning, and off on his quest. In deep ravines, and dangerous clutts, on icy ledges, and in cornered nooks, lie sought vainly for the little flower. It was too late in the season for it, and when noon came, and his search. was still unsuccessful, he was about to re turn home. At last peerling over the precipice, on a ledge far below he saw the pale stars of the object of his search. A wall went almost perpen dicularly down to them, not impossi ble to descend. but the ledge where they grew was narrow, and one false step would precipitate him into: the gulf beneath. It was not as deep as many others, but no man could fall down those jutting sides and reach the bottom alive. He looked, and hesitated, when a well known voice in his ear made him start. "Is that you, Herman?" he asked. "Well, it's not my ghost, Franz,"_ Herman answered, .with a laugh, "though the fat Englisher down there Is apt to make cue of me before long all kinds. os braakneck-places to get some for bi. -lal peering over the, precipice, "why tlwire's some now." "It is mine," Franz answered, angrily, for he di:liked and distrusted Herman. "I found It, and nobody' touches it, do you hoar?" "Yes, but since when have you bought the right to gather all the Edel weiss on the free mnountains? If you can get it, take it in welc.,ine, but it is not yours until you touch it, and, I, too, will make a trial for It." The next moment lie had disap peared and Franz who was preparing to descend, saw the ledge on which the flower grew ran roui the side of the precipice, and that Herman, descend ing to it fror.. lother point, wias slowly. making his way around by the help of an alpenstock which lie dug In the sl(des as he advanccd, to steady hiis steps. More nervous than an Alpine climber should be, for he was very angry. Franz made his way down with difli culty, arid dragged the plant to him, with his alpenstock, just as' Herman had stretched out, huis hand to grasp it.. Forgetting all caution in this hour of triumph, hie waved the flower .above his headi. The act made hiim lose his balance. Herman looking on with angry eyes, saw the stick shooti froin the unhapp>y boy's hand, and with. a. cry of "gony, poor Franz lost his bal ance, aXid fell hito the depths. Herman made his way from the ratal' ledge, and rushed back to Zermatt with the news. Every one liked the boy, and a large body of. moh.ntaineers set out in search of the body. It was recovered the next day, the body crushed, but the face unmutilatedl, and, In the hand so tighutly clenched that it could not be loosened, was tike fatal flower. The next day the pompons Ameri can and his daughter entered the cot tage where the remamns of Franz were laid out. Several women were in the room, but one, silent, motIonless, with unseeing eyes, sat by the .shrouded form; and the strangers needed no one to tell them that was the bereaved mother. "AhemI im very sorry, very much grived," stammered Mr. Moore to the stony-faced woman. "I hear it was to get a flower for my daughter' that he met his death. Nobody knew that he would kill himself, or gracious knows I wouldn't have sent im after.it,. You can't blame me," Tile mother understood not a word of what lhe was saying, for slaa knew no English and these people were strangers to her. But eyep had they Bnaken ini a familiar tne . si as deafened by her grief to all the soutids of life around tier. She sat mute, her eyes fixed on the body of her son.' "You see, I ,waut to help you," went. on Mr. Moore,' fumbllng in his pooket. "I reckon you're yoor as Job, and this will help you to get bread a,nd t eat," layipg a'woll filled purse'in her lap.' She looked at' the money, and then at him. buddenl her stunnbd" braln' seemed to recover donsolousness. These! were the stratugers who had tempted her boy to his d6atih,, and this was the price of his precious eife this man was cfforing her. She raised the purse in har open hand and threw it violently through the open door, with an im perative sign to the stranger to rollow it. "Very. unreasonable, very rude I must say," sputtered Mr. Moore, as with a face crimsoned with anger, he hurried out after his despised offering. "Coine, Rosa, let's get. away from here." But Rosa paused a 'moment. and looked at the beautiful dead face, her tender young heart aching with re morse for the part she had iunocenQly played in this tragedy, Tears fell froih her eyes, for this shadow of death and pain was the first that had coma to her happy life. One of .the women, seeing her grief, broke off a sprig of the Edel weiss still grasped in the dead hand, and handed it to her. She had got her Alpine flower; it lies In a looked box now-the price of a life. A TIGEWS BLOW. Ui'ushing the Skull of An Ox at a Single Torriblo Blow. A man-eater, which for six month" had been the terror of the neighborhood had been traced down and was seen to orieep into a ravine. The beaters were at usace ordered off, as they could not be of ser vice, and might be charged upon by the tiger, which had already been rendered furious by a wound. Unfortunately, ,hese men are in the habit of half intoxicating themselves with oplun be fore driving the tiger from his refuge, and one of them who had taken too large a dose -refused to . escape, and challenged ghe .tiger, drawing. \b, asword, rdid N ai- elianti s tIluas moment the animal sprang u on him, dashed him to the ground with a bliw of his paw and turned at bay. After a series of desperate charges lie ,was killed. The hunters then went to the assistance of the wounded man, but found that he was past all aid, the lower part of his face, including both jaws, had been carried away, as if by a cannon-ball. The terrific effect of the single blow indicates the power of the limb which struck it. Had the blow taken -effect a few inches higher the whole of the head would have been carried away. By a similar blow a tiger has been known to crush the skull of an ox so completely that when handled the broken bones felt as if they were loose In a bag. The wonder at this terrific satrength diminishes when the limb is measured. The tiger which -killed the foolhagrdy man was by no means a large .one, measuring nine feet four inches :from the nose to the tip of the tail; yet 'the girth of the forearm was two feet s;even inches. The corresponding limb of a very powerful man ucarcely exceeds ai foot in circumference. .Not until it becomes a man-eater is tihe tiger much dreaded, especially in the~ case of those natives who do not possess flocks or herds. Indeed, when an Englishman has offered to kill a tiger whose lair was well known, lie has' beein requnested not to di so, as the tiger did no harm anid killed so many deer that it supplied the neighbors with meal.. The tigress is much more to be dreaded as a man-eater than the .wale animal. A Sailor's Comupiimenr. A compliment, true and genuine,: 'was paid by a salor who was sent. by his captain to carry a letter to the lady of his love. The sailor, having deliver ad his me-sage, stood gazing :In silent admiration iupoii the lady, for she was very beautiful. "Well, rmy good man," she said, "for what do you wait? There is nio answer to be returned." "Lady," replied the sailor with hum ble deference, "If you please ,[ would like to know your name." *"Did you not see It on the letter?" "Pardon, lady-I never learned to read. Mine has. been a hard, rough life." "And for what reason, my good muan,' would you know my name?" "Because," answered the old tar, looking up honestly, "in a storm at sea, with danger afore me, I would like to call the name of the brightest ebing I'd -ever seen in my life, -There'd be sun shine in It even in th arkn,- ". I NEI I B 1l fUP GAl Mi anof#arcio i ot sa'f aiat Jeoti ab ~Per,xlet, .ut few oftt exiles ever attain yto " e posseasion'' houe,na by 'which i a1 mQnt a tierable hut. Most of p eio4;are In realtty tl e bogdemea of t his 8ier(an paaants, by whom they s4e hredi tha. is to say, they remain . tilr debt )~ hg s >aheo livot and W~e dataee$ vbei tliey can' got money for drlnkingl -on"oitdays from their masters. B t' as tie 'iajority of .the .xiles are rogtUs and vagabonds by urofession who Arg (afraid of work, the number tf :fgllve fIs constantly cnoreasing,. waogteal, rab and plunder whatever a 1 ife fers, and LUUg in tensify the rat ial antipathy of the, ettler again4 trea diass of the depor ted. The paaap0It', *e every cause to be incensed against them, for,. be eides sufferiaa fromi tlie igilIpractices of the ,onvlgt @#14ss, tnoy #ave to bear the ooAt of tub ;ereOtloi t' preservar' lion: of prisonsfor the eie, organize buts fqr ti cpti e"dt ruuaways; pro :vide guardd or theih and flnd the'taxes which cantit be raised :from among the deportea olaps But the greatest ,gaps in the, ranks of ,the exiles are -used by the almost systematic escape at the latter from forced labor and from the cofivict settlements. Not leasthan 15-per" cent.. of the deported escape duing. transport. Many of thet are salot'down like wild beasts by the peasanti gnd natives, and an oh yrver of SIberian .lfe made a vei'y true &emark when he said that Siberia would aoai}cly. have been able to over power the :runiway exiles if the jeas ants had not annihilated them. The most etreme measures to check the system of esape are the bunts by the natives, orgnjeid by the Russian Governmeht.' The native receives'three rubles if hedelverstie prisoner, "dead or alive," to' the guthprities. Thp teo ple are provided -with good arms. a6d anamunition, oas to make hunting the escape, a*ers,,a sPodess. One of those f4 wh: h nnaged $6' 1iP was seiz i his native village,; and when bi tia ;"the bourt he said: 'have crossed Siberian forests, passed through steppes and thountains-and no one has touched me, neitler man nor beatt, but here, in my native vill age, I have ueen seized and cast into chains." Tie escape from forced labor had become so common that the adminiserators of convict establish ments were in the habit of calling out, when roeWing rlsoners: "Whoever wishes to stty let him take clothes; he who wants to run away will not need them." It should be observed that the clothes left behind by escaped con victs, -so to guard against capture, are the perquJsites of the prison authori ties, While the statistics show an incred ible increase in the number of crimes committed by exiles, proving the effici ency of the.system of deportation as a corrective a delusion, they are eqjually condemnatory of its much-vaunted cheapness to the state. The cost of transport of a Siiberian deporter is es timated at fifty rubles ($37.60). But in this estimate' are not included the cost of transport to the main route (steamers on the Volga and Kama), and thence to the place of destination, the maintenance of his family. it- he is accompanied by it, the mialntainance in pr ison till the spring, as 'transports In winter have been abolished,-as well as the cost of the military guard, so that the expense of transport for each convict to his place of destination amount to above 300 rubles .($225), 'a sum which would be sufilcient to keep him at least four-years in the dearest prison of EnOropean Russia. But thiis sum is raised to 800 .rubles ($QO00J by the expense~ of attaching to the main tenance of etappe routes, escorts, pris ons along the rdutes and etappe houses. - African Nativos as Tradeors. Along the northeast of Africa, south of Cape Guardaful, there are no towns worth mentioning for some hundreds of utiles, The Somali natives, who live along the coast, have had scarcely any dealings with white traders. - A little while ago a smart firm in Aden made up their minds that by maintaining regular communication with the coast they would be able to buIld up a good trade. They therefore bought a ilttle 0team 'vessel and sent their agents along the coast to tell' the- natives that at cer. (ato times, if they would look out on the sea, they would see a steamer com ing, laden with byeautiful goods) to give them in exchange for hides, palm oil and othier products of 'the'Somali re glon. The little vessel has now made sey - ,ral trins. and the erneriment han provel gregt success. Knowing that they may ep ect the steamer at the date ted,, the Aatiy@s for. many miles in the,jnteior dock' to the shore at the Went,pointsihere the vessel stops. A iige crowd, well burdened with ob 1est ;f exchange await the steamer which. apohbe off the coast, while trad ing boats Eiasliore, and 'a lively mar liet is soonu.An progress, where a few hppre befoxe notbing could be seen but thy wi4e.stretcliug' .sauds that border this coast. - The gootd that are -most in demand .n ng.these new customers of the wbt' e Venetian -glassware And A rl cotton shirtings. They driye very tair bargains, audit Is note worthy that the poor stuffs they bought at fikst tfhey now .diseard. for better goods. The same keenness has been observed among other African natives. The Congo:tribes, for instance, will not touchr.pow the poor Jack-knives and dimay cotton they were greedy for a few years ago. The gra4e of goods that the Congo State now takes to Af ria fo r bartering purposes along the river coast is on an average from 00 to' 100 per oont. more than the goods that were sold to the natives six or seven years ago.' The Fatal Lovers' Walk. "I want to warn you about one thing," said Mrs. Farquhar; "don't go strolling off before sunset in the Lovers' Walk. It is the most danger ous place.. It is a fatal place. I sup pose every turn in it, every tree that has a knoll at the foot where two per sons can alt, has witnessed a tragedy, or, what is worse, a comedy. There are legends enough about it to fill a book. Maybe there is not a southern woman living who has not been enga ged there once at. least. I'll tell you a iittie story for a warning. Some years ago there was a famous belle here who had the Springs at her feet, and half a dozen determined suitors. One of them, who had been unable to make the least impression on . her heart, resolved to win her by a- stratagen. Walking ohe eveuing on the hill with her, the to stoppe4"ist at a turn in the walk -:I-can show you ,the:xaot spot, with Qut,a cbpperon- agd he fell into earnest 4IUtleMiltndr:. '-i e,was -cool ad. repellent as usual. Just 'thei he he'ard a party approa3hing; hi chance had come. The moment the party caine in sight he suddenly kissed her. .lverybody saw it. The witnesses dis. creetly turned back. The girl was in dignant. But the deed was done. In half an hour the Spring would know it. She was compromised,. No expla nation could do away with the fact that she had been kissed In Lover's Walk. But the girl was game, and that evening the engagement was an nounced in the drawing room. Isn't that a pretty story?" Arab and Persian H1orses. The general run of Arabs are no doubt first-rate horses, ta far as they go, for military purposes, but they are too small to mount satisfactorily any but native cavalry. There are, of course, exceptional animals which have size' and power enough for any thing, but they are 80 few that they may lie left out of the general estimate which we take of tho race. For aniy soldier whose weight is such that he can be mounted on an Arab he will be found the hardiest, soundest, and mcst docile of wdr-horse3. liHe will 'do ani enormous amount, of work oji a very little and very dlifferent food, and will always bear himself well and h)and somely. In dne point only is he, more than other horses, susceptible of dis ease, and that is .his eye, which is lla ble to cataract. His groat character. istic is his undaunted pluck, wvhich is never more clearly ,shown than when by any cha'nce he is ill, when all veter inary surgeons will allow that he ia a most admirable patient, .resisting and throwing off the effects of illness or treat ment in a way that no horse of another race'cais eliia1. Persian 'horses' have always been found among the most generally useful remounts in India, and tliey take their place both in the ranks of cavalry and in gun teams They have more power and size than Arabs, with much of the same con stitutional good qualities and-a mat ter of great importance to the 8tate they are generally cheaper In price. Eafthqitake' Speod. According to accounts from Wash ing(opi, if the earth' tremor registered by trie scientille instruments in that city, shortly after the recent'earthquake in Southern France and Northern italy, was a part of the same shock, the wave must have traveled under the ocean, from' cousinent to -continen~t, at the rate ot 590 miles an hour. The velocity of the earth-wave, propagiated by the IObarleston shock was only about ninety AUI RAGPWifKERS. milions of Dollars' Worth of notase 'athered Every Year. The City of Paris lets out by contra'ti the exclusive right to pick up what can be'found in the streets and alleys to "chef chiffoniera"-Anglice, boss rag pickers-ono each to a certain district. These chefs have their respective corpsr of men employed at an average of from f.3 to f.5 per day, or rather night, for the work has to be done at night. The whole harvest of cigar stumps, decayed fruit, manure, rags, offal, bits of iron, tinware, old horseshoes, leather strips, paper, etc., is stored in vast subterra nean depots or sheds in the suburbs and there assorted and put into marketable shape. In addition to this comes the enormous trade done by these men with the cooks, porters and janitors of private houses for all the refuse of the kitchen and workshop. The result represents many millions every year and gives re munerative employment to thousands. In a melodrama of French origin, which had quite an extensive run over here, a ragpicker's ball and subsequent orgie are represented. Many Ameri cans thought this probably overdrawn or purely imaginative. The scene is one taken from life. The Parisian rag picker is a power. A curious side feature of the Paris ian chiffonier's trade is the manner in which he utilizes "second-hand" food. Buying it en bloc at a very low stipu lated price, paid every month, of the cooks or butlers in hotels or large pri vate houses, the daily harvest is care fully sorted. Thus, roast meat, sau sage, sound fruit and vegetables and unspoiled soup are set apart and sold at a sufficiently low figure to restaurants of the third and fourth grade, who again set it before their customers in the guise of vols-au-vent,; raquet, stew, pot roast, meat pies, etc., and the very artistically gotten up "Italian salad," which the boulevard gourmand eats with great relish. Thus it goes down the scale till that class of eatables is reached intended for the harlgeuin. This queer name is very appropriate. For as the garb of the harlequin is made up of hundreds of vari-colored bit8 -of cloth, so this dish consists f,;.g iiudredsaof-bite offood,s ih and m sauce and soup, cabbage and po and carrots-all forming a hodge-poag : worse than the ;Spanish olla podrida." It is sold by the keepers of the lowest eating shops by the barrier and is made up of what the chiffonier cannot sell elsewhere. The men and women who patronize this harlequin pay 2 cents on entering the shop. For that they are served with a chunk of bread and have the privilege to once make a dive with a long three-tined fork into the caul dron. If they fsh up a big piece of. meat, so much the better for them. Weather and Mental Moods. It has been argued, with more or less warmth, that one's dispostion is largely affected by the kind of weather which prevails when one is born. While this is possible, it is also fanciful, and but few put any faith in it. There is, how., evei', another wveathier phenomenon in which I believe. I am convinced that thought is influenced in a very consid erable degree by the weather. My notice wais first drawn toward this by a line in one of Voltaire's letters, in which he said: "My work has been murky to-day, because the weather was murky.'' From this time on I took close and careful account of my men tal condition during various kinds of weather. Once, as an experiment, I planned two novels, to be worked on sknultat-. nteously. The one plot was shaped during a stormy period and the other during a brief season of sunshine and summer glory .which immediately fob howed. Whenever it was stormy 1 worked upqp the storm-planned novel, and whenever the weather was bright I waked upon the other. In each in stance I wholly surrendered myself to the moods which the weather stirred up within me, and made no effort to shake off the good cheer of the one or the despondency with which the other encompassed me. As a result, the novel upon which was settled no shadow of storm-taint was cheerful and good-humored, bunt the, other was so bitter, mournful and vindid*ive that 1' never printed it. .He who lives to no purpose -lives to a bad purpose. A thousand evils do affict that man which bath to himself an idle and un profitable carcass. A mind quite vacant is a mind die. tressed. It is a poor wit who lives by borrow ing the words, decisions, mien, inven tions and antions of nthnra.