Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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HIS OLD YELLOW ALMANAC. I left the farm when mother died, aul changed my plnceof dwelliu' To daughter Stylo's stylish liouso, right in tiio city street. And there was then, hoforo ( came, that sort of seared 100 tollin' How I would 11 nd the towu-folks' ways so diflleult to moot. They said I'd have no comfort In the ru*tlln' llxed-np throng. And I'd liavo to wear stllT collars every week-day right along. I llnd I take to city ways just like a duck to wdtor. * I liko the racket and the noise, and novei liro ui miuiifij _ And there's no cud of comfort In the mail slon of my daughter, ** Aud everything Is riirht ut hand, am monoy freely llows; An 1 lured help is all about, just lNtenia for my cull, l?nt I miss tho yellow aluianao olT int kitchen wall. The house Is full of calendar* from attic t< cellar; They're painted lu all colors, urul an faucy-llko to sec. Hut just in this particular I'm not a inoduri feller. And tlio yellow-covcre l almanac is goo< enough for me; I'm used to it, I've seen it round from hoy hood to old iufo, And I rather like the jokiu' at tho bottoi of each page. I Jiko the way the "S" stood out to slio tho week's heginnin' (In these new-fangled calendars tho day seemed sort of mixed). Am 1 the man upon the cover, though !i wasn't exactly wiiinln' With lungs and liv r all exposed, sti showing how we are llxod; And the letters, credentials that was wr to Mr. Aver. I've often, 011 a rainy day. found readii vorv fair. I tried to find one recently; ihere wa'n one iu the city. 'I hey toted out great calendars iu ovoi sort of style; 1 looked at 'em In cold disdain, and a swered 'win in pltv: "l',l rather have mv almanac than t ihat costly pile.'' lf., Ami, t.?o??UHiteV.viit > i or that old yellow almanac upon n kit-hen wall. Kila Wheeler Wilcox, in the Century, I WHY THE PASTOR HEI! SIGNED. sL> liy >1 itclirll BronU. _a\ HE Keverend llic iu?l Hcathcrton s . ML 7 nt his desk in t S l iclily f u r u i s U thoughts of n s? v mon tilledlnsuiiu Vi'ii' " ^?':cn it'll'" re books were with arm's reach, but he had not open one of them all the morning; theatre bell hud rung many times, but i caller had been admitted, nor hail 1 even turned to notice the cards at letters which the sexton had passu under the locked door. Ho had heen struggling with hir self, this young man, or rather ll heart and the soul within hiui 1? been struggling together, conteinlii lor mastery, and just now it seemed i though the heart would be victoriou denomination had to offer. When ho first came to Philadelphia some of hi* friends had thought that his wife would lie n drawback and hindrnuee; but she hud kept in the background, And everything wont veil. Young, handsome, brilliant, popular, and with such a church?surely the lines of the ministry had fallen unto him in exceedingly pleasant places! So it seemed to Kichard, Keatlierton himoelf for the first month or two. but thee he ha 1 met Caroline Mason, and tLis love for her, which was the Ineakiuj? forth of a peut-up heart. * ! this consuming, irresistible, hopeless, unlawful love, had come into his life. The other woman was everything that his wife was not; especially was she very beautiful, and Richard : Heatherton worshiped femiuine j beauty. Kho was the niece and j adopted daughter of his richest auc j most promineut member. Her activity in every branch of the church's work ! had thrown them, from the beginning 1 J very much and intimately together i And he had leai tied for the first time what love is, and its pangs. So tho inward conflict raged. Tin j noon hour passed, but lie remained hero in tho stillness of tlio church anc his study. Sometimes lie would wait rapidly back aud forth, then ho would sit at the desk with his face buried m his hauds. Something must be done. This hopeless lo\o was ruiuiug his life; it was making him unfit for work of any sort; his sermons of lato had been miserable failures; bo was ueg' lectins nil his pastoral duties. So no' thing must be done, but oh, God, . what? He had many friends, but under 110 circuiustruces would ho ask f their counsel, and thereby reveal this # ? - i trA tei I lino KOCl'Ol OC Ills sua I. iiu nuun > tliut his circumspection had boon so great that no one had a suspicion of 3 his lovo for Caroline. He tried to i pray, but when he closed his eyes ho saw more vividly than ever her fair J face. He prayed with open eyes, but that brought no relief. Ho reasoned wiih himself: Was ho to blame? Had n he not resisted this lovo with all his might? Hud ho not tried to keep w away from the woman uud tried to lovo his wife? Why must ho suffer? 's But this reasoning only made his caso 10 seem the more unfortunate and desporate. If Caroline would go away, I' that would mako his lot more bear* it able; but sho would not; that was tho most pitiable circumstauco of all, that a' sho loved him as much as ho did her. Ho ha?l seen it, ho knew it, ami God t have mercy on her! She was not so wise and reasonable as he, and sho r-v would not go away, would not keep n. out of his sight. If ho could only tell her to do this! But then he would hi have to confess his love, uud he could p v Wi*%ii that; he would rather die than do it. uy He thought of his old life and work, out there in Western Pennsylvania. It had heeu very monotonous and <-_!/ commonplace, and yet ho would give all tho world if that life could fx 1)0 his again, if ho could blot the reinembruneo of Caroline Mason from his mind. Could he go hack theie, or p* to some other distant place"' No, his <i| ambition aud pride and this splendid !0& opportunity were too great. And to bo away from her? It was what lie most devoutedly wished, aud yet did uot believe ho could hear it. k" The afternoon passed away, and it ed nli.w.oi .Inat- wlmn ht> left the .. .../ uii wu* sjMnniuiiy present net with him, wns terrihl v present in evei 1 bought that eame to his heated hrnii r.nd she was the eauso of this inwni eontiict. A woman's photograph, in tiny gold frame, rested on the desk hi tore him; hut it v.as his wife's pietun r.nd he had scarcely noticed that was there, for of her he only thong! when he remembered now the wiekei ness [of his alVectiou for the otlu woman. He had been married to this wifec his for twelve years. Although li tried never to think so, deep down i his mind lie know ho had been ras and foolish, that he had committed hi life's great mistake when ho irrevoc.* l>ly joined himself, long before tli completion of his theological course to this plain, small minded girl H<> he had ever come to imagine that li loved her he could scarcely reniemhe now, it was so long ago. I5ut sine then he had tried to love her, had trie many times, until he came to see th became n.atrunger to love; almost be lievetl that there was no such tiling. He mill I?w wit'.. i.?.i -- ? HUM mi preir well together. They both had eon sidcrablc capacity for adapting them selves to the inevitable. At first h< had tried to lift her up, to eultivati her mind, to make lier have noblei ideals nud broader thoughts, to in terest her in his work, but this, too, he had long ago given up us useless cli'ort. Thrown back upon himself he had studied and worked with uncommon zeal, and his ten years' pastorate in a suiall city of Western Pennsylvania had been remarkably successful. That success had been rewarded, seven months ago, by a call to this North .Broad Street Church, the mint desirable position in t!i.? i-itv !...? !.;? ('lose to the lliver Vor and only a ] few yards from St. Albuu's Abl,\v stands the oldest inhabited house in Ihi'.'laiid. It \v?i huilt in the time ol King Oil a, of Mcreia, nhont the year and is thus over 1 lot) years old. It is of octagonal shape, the uppei portion being of onU and the lower walls of great thi -kuess. At one time it was foitifie I and hurt the name of Ht. German's gate. I llliuuov . 'kll Q^vl M.nnfc l .^o.t Vu ill.S Vl U.nT, no There was a half conviction in liia mind that ho ought to go p.wav from Caroline Mason, hut as vet he liad not . resolved to do this, and ho dislie1,1 lievod in his strength of will to do it. As he turned to go down Market street ho met, faoo to face, Doctor Mouson. Dr. Mouson was tlio socrotary of one the societies of the denomi"j nation ti? which Richard Iicatherton belonged, and was tho young elergyinan's friend. They talked for a few 11" minutes together, and when about to 14: separate tho doctor remarked: "By the way, Jleat'uerton, have you any old college friend or acquaintance IS who wauls a position as teacher? " There is a vacancy just now in our 0 colored school at Atlanta. Tho salary is fairly good, and it isn't at all a bad , ; place for a person who likes work of that sort." n Oitick us thought the young man's l!~ decision was made. Without a mop incut's hesitation he answered: "See here, doctor, lot me have this 11 place. I am resolved to lea\o Philadelphia, and for a while [ should iiko [to take a ver.t from ,tho work of the i ministry. I have never been very j strong, ami I shall surely break iluwn 0 , if I go on here." 11 I This was only a half truth, but his I pride made him dare to say it. ls | The doctor was astounded. The l" clergyman's reasons for wanting to v I give up such a hue Held and such bril' liant prospects were so vague and in lV definite that he was half inclined to 0 believe him out of his head; heremon1 strated with him, but at length promised that the place should be his. ' When Richard lleutherton read(^y IrfoV iii ig it created the most pronounced kind of sensation; and notwithstanding its statements and ex4 < plnnatious, there was only one person in that large congregation wuo really knew why he had resigned. The man himself felt lie was a coward ' ! to do what he did, and yet that his ' j cowardice was the victory of his bcttei nature. ? Waverley Magazine. , l A llnvli'B I'm* Slf<M?wi?lkcr?. A device to prevent sleepwalking is j to lay upon tiie floor, by the side of the somnambulist';! bed, a sheet ol iron, zinc or other metal, wide enough to insure that he will step upon it. When the sleepwalking lits come upon : him, his foot touches the cold surface I of the metal, and ho instinctively draws that leg into the hod again. After two or three attemps the somnambulist gives it up and settles down Iw..l 3>?& j \ S TALKS OK PLUCK I! I AND ADVENTDRE. j i A Horn ?f tin* ^^ilior Hotel Fire. During tho terrible lire which i stroyed tho Windsor Hotel, in New i York City, on March 17, thero were ] performed a number of heroic deeds i as splendid as un,v ever done in war. j All these can not eVen bo meutiouod; but what was perhaps the very bravest ] deed of all should be recorded. Edward Ford, a t'.rSman of Extension Truck No. 20, 1ms tho honor of < having been the last fireman to leave the hotel, bringing down tho last pereon rescued alive. Tho brave man would not talk for publication himself, but a comrade who witnessed the rescue told the story partly as he saw it, aud partly iu words. It appears t9^^Ford was going home on the elevated railroad, when he saw the smoko oi tlio tire. At the Fiftieth street station, ho broko from j tho train aud rushed to the scone of tho conflagration.* When ho arrived J the smoko was pouring out of every wiu- J dow, and tho building apparently about ! to fall. "1 pushed my way through tho | crowd," ho sv^^^/ 'aud had begun j I work with the nuso company, when j some one shouted that there was an i old woman iu a room ou tho sixth I atory on tho Fifth avenue side. I [ could not see any one at the window, j i I saw one fireman up there, but he j I was in the room to the north of wlioro i i the woman was said to be, aud he j j could not see her, or know that she \ was there. I determined to go up my- j self. There was u scaling ludder from the second floor up to the room where the fireman was, and I took a ! thirty-tive-foot ladder and placed it | iusido the hotel railing, and started ; up." Iu a few minutes he had reached ! the top, and found a comrade there : named Hill Clarke. Tho room was | full of moLt, - i.i ^,3 men conM hear 1 the fire roaring ami <?v?ekliug outside. I Thinking to get into the next tonm l>v menus of the hull, Ford threw himscft against the liall door aud forced it I open, lmt a storm of .'lames and smoke | busrt into the room, almost suffocating ; him. lie tried to force the door | closed again, but the hinges were j broken, and it fell outward into the ! tinmen. Then he tried the windows. J "I stood 011 the stone lintel of the j window below," he said, "and grasped the woodwork with my left hand. Then I reached for the next window, but it was too far off. I stood my feet tirinly on the lintel on which I was standing and made a jump lor the 'other one. Fortunately 1 caught the ? 1 ..... 1 floor 011 her kneeb. As I sprang iu she 1 turned an 1 grai/jcd me convulsively, 1 'rave me. for dud's sake!' she cried.' 1 he bravo foi'ow took her up and dragged her to tlio window, calling to I Clarke for help, lie grasped her tirinly around the waist and climbed 1 out on to tho lintel of the window below, holding himself close to the building. Clarke was already outside of the window, and tried to reach, but the distance was too great. Tho woman was afraid that she was going to fall, and kept praying and shrieking to be sa\ ed, at the same time grasp j ing at everything within reach, aud grcatlv hainuerilll? the innvmnniita the men. "At last," said Ford, "I shook hor free from her liol?l on the window-sill. Sho then became miconscious, and was a dead weight on juy arm." All this time the lire was I eating on the woodwork of the room | toward the window, and tho part to ! which Ford was holding began to ; scorch. "I shifted my hold," he said, \ "for another on tho top ^>f the sill, and brut my head and shoulders heI low to get out of the rauge of tho I dame, which were already sweeping : out of the window. ] called to Clarke to reach over to me, us I could not hold any more. Ho leaned as far as he could hold on with his left hand, and reached out with his right. I | lifted the woman toward him with all the strength I ha 1 left, and lie seized 1 her around tho waist. Clarke is a big, powerful man, and succeeded in getting her to the top of the ladder." i Clarke then took the woman down to the sidewalk and bronf' t " i . . l . ' lonud to ho Mrs. : drug stoi c, one ? ? i i i . *. ; .i grr.y-uaired lady of litty ; or sixty years. This was the last j crj son takcu from thn ImiMinr* ..<..1 ?i -* ? a > * I (f^ y illlUU or four minutes later the walls fell iu. Out l?y u Hour. An odd although rather brutal story of a man's adventure with a bear, is told in the "History of Williams County, Olrio." John (tilletlmd made up his mind, from various signs, that there was a nest of bear cubs somewhere in his neighborhood. One day, when he was out hunting for them. I10 grew tired, and as his good luck hud it, sat down to vest beside tho very stump in which the nest was hidden. Hearing the cubs scratching inside, he leaned the branch of a tree against tho stump, which whs a very tall one, climbed up, looked down into the hollow, and saw two eubs about tho si/oof "full-grown rat dogs." With out stopping to think, lie jumped into the hole, caught the eiihs, tied their uiouths so that they could not squeal, and fastened their feet so that they could not scratch; hut, then, (iillet used to say, in telling the story: "1 knew the old hear would he along pretty soon and make i*. hot for nie if she found me in the nest; so I swung tiip vo'ingsteiH into iny buckskin heir, prepaialory to getting out. * "(Jet out? Did t get out? .Land rd love! it makes me shiver to think , of it yet. 1 could no more gc out of j i that stump than I could tiy. Tiie (i follow was bell shaped, larger at the 1 >ottoiu than at the top?ao large, in act, that I could not put my back igaiuat one aide and my feet ani nauds against the other aud craw. | up, as rabbits and other animals clituk j up iuside of hollow trees. In no way ' could I get up a foot. "There were no sticks inside to lielf tne up, aud I made up my miud I hail to die, certain. About the time 1 came to this couclusiou I heard tlu old bear climbiug up the outside o! the stump. With only my huntinc knife us a meaus of defence, and it such closo quarters, you may possibly imagine my feelings. "The old bear was not more thau half n minute climbiug up the stump, but it seemed like a month, at least. ! I thought of all my sius a dozeu times I over. At last she reached the top,' J but sho did not seem to suspect my , presenc at all, as sho turned round ' aud becan slowlv descendiujr. tail foremost. I felt as though my lust ! hour hud come, and I begun to think seriously of lying down nud letting j tho bear kill me, so as to get out ol my misery us quickly as possible. "Suddenly an idea struck me, and despair gave way to hope. I drew oul ' my hunting knife uml stood on tiptoe. When tho bear was about seveu feet from tho bottom of tho hollow, 1 fa.steued on her tail with a viseliks grip, and with my right hand drove my hnuting knife to the hilt in her haunch, at tho same time yelling like a whole tribo of Iudiaus. "What did she do? Well, you should have seen the performance. She did not stop to retlect a momcut, hut shot out at the top of tho stump like a bullet out of a gun. I held 011 until we reached the ground. Then the old bear went like lightning intc tho brush, and was out of sight iu half a minute. "I took the cubs to Adrian the next ; day, and got live dollars apiece for ' Al ? IUOI11. llrnvH llernmlou. Lieutenant llernadou's classmates say that bo fears nothing ou earth? ! or water. His fearlessness overcomes i any consciousness of self. ) One afternoon in October, 18Sl,thi 1 United State* steauier Kearsarge, j Captain (t. 13. White, lay at auclior in Hampton lloads. The weather had been etoruiy for a day o? * ??> ?. mid flif | wind had kicked up u heavy sea. ; There was a strong tide muring, and the vessel swung out 011 a long cable. ! A seaman by the naino of Cliristover ' sou, vrlio was boat-tender in one o the cutters swinging at the lowei booms, went out and down the Jacob : ladder. Tn stepping to the thwav his foot slipped, and those on deel saw hiin disappear under the gra; i water. There was a hoarse cry of "mm I overboard." Seaman"Robert Sweeny who saw the accident, running ou p aloticr the boom, nlunged in withou s second time. Bernadon, then a cade midshipman, heard tho cry, ami rush ing to tho gangway saw the terrib! struggle of Sweeny with the drowuiuj 1 man ns the tide swepttueiuouttowar< the sen. liernadou tossed ofl' liis coa and was overboard in au iustant ( hristoverson, in his tierce struggle carried Sweeny down tvith him, tin latter only breaking away to be carriei down again. liernadou by this time was withii reach, and catching tho drowning niai from behind managed to relieve Sweeny until a line was thrown him :ui i tnov were finally hauled aboarc in rui exhausted coudition. For this act both Bernadou and the sailor re ceived the recommendations of' theii captain and the thanks of William H. j Hunt, then Secretary of the Navy. A Cool-II t'liilcil Olrl of Twulvc. Twelve-year-old Bessie Kinney lives in Tjos Angeles, Cal. The other day her mother sent her to the market foi meat. Mounted on her pony, she was returning from the market when a run away horse dashed past, dragging an empty carriage. Bessie gave chase. Her pony is a fust one, and she was soon able to catch hold of the bit of the runaway with her left hand, all the while tightly clasping the meat and the pony's reins in her right. Gradually pulling back on the frightened runaway and quieting it with soothing words, she finally brought it to u standstill, after a chase of tifteeu blocks. Then she went home, leaving tho bystanders to publish her hvot'A -1 -. -?.* tlu papers or tier io\Vn tell it with words of praise. Atla?-ke?l livn Wilt! Cat. llichard Wheeler, a Binghamtoii sewing machine agent, recently had t tlirillilli? evr??ria?n? f.a.... sr?i - f, - ,| .x .tvv Iium ?UCll tlio Now York Press, lie was riding a horse along an ohl log road, on hit I way to see a easterner, when a wildcat sprang from the hushes with a growl, gave two or three leaps and seized the horso by the neck. Wheeler kicked at it as hard as he could until it let gc and tiieu dropped in front of the running horse, lie didn't hear any more from the wildcat, and, after ho had quieted the horse and hitched him to a tree, he went hack, struck some matches and searched for the savage beast. It lay in the road with a crushed skull, tho horse having ap pareutly trod upon it as it fell. ,\ New (iuiiril for U'Htclioi. Watches ':an he securely held in the pocket by a new guard, formed of a two-piece snap button, having one portion of the button sewed in the fabric to the pocket and the other attached to the chain, a slight pressure on the parts locking them so that the chain cannot he pulled out easily. Tlip Stlhftt II lit a* I'lir Tk'1'11. The latent in tiij^s hnildiug line is the ulilniinum hut lf>r Klondike miners. When packed for cairinge it weighs 111) pounds. It is composed of foil! sides and a roof of thin sheets o: aluminum, and when put up it con t ains 1'dO cubic feet. Bill RRP'SJftULf ItllfR, BARTOW MAN filVF.S tXPESSlON 1 TO HIS FF.ELIXUS. WANTS "YANKEES" TO APOLOG'ZE. l)fclnrf? North Ha* No Might to Ulctntc. I.y lit-hluga Will Uo Might On. I am not liappy. Some months ago I wrote to our yunkee friends that if they were gentlemen they would apolo * tt ?? i i i gize lor an uiey uono 10 lis uuriug that devilish war and after. I never received but one letter 011 that line and that was from a native born Federal toldicr who said he was friendly and that if 1 would write out an apology and send it to him he would sigu : it. He seemed to be properly repentant. And now comes this editor of I The New York Herald down here to ' investigate our lynching business and t<> philosophize upon it, and he says the north made a mistake in giving the negio the right of suH'rage, lint he doesent apologize. He was one the prime leaders in the whole business and speaks of it as a mistake. It was 110 mistake. It was malicious ignorance, and why doesent he say so? It has taken him and his folks thirty years to lind out they knew but little about us and nothing about the negro. Senator Ingalls has got more sense and more eandor. Ho cnme down to Texas ten years ago xo j investigate and went home and wrote J a letter in which he said the negro was not lit for the bollot ami that the north (mil mad a an egregious blunder in giving it to bim. lie dident apologize, but be came pretty near it. Xow, a mistake doosent involve any moral luipitude, but a malicious blunder does Tbe time luis passed for any more truckling. 1 he stage of desperation is upon the south and political humility to the north has rasscd. We have"never felt that humility .mo , 1't'li'iift^ l l *'a pvcattUi-tl it and tried to get something from the public crib by pretending we were humble when we were not I The truth is that the noiu, is re, sponsible for every outrage and e\v,7, i lynching at the south. Here is The I Atlanta Age, a negro paper that is pubi lished by W. A. Pledger, that conies r every venemt tts article from the New York papers about the Sam Holt Imsi-j ufss, and Pledger writes to The New York Sun that he is shocked at GovJ em or Candler's utterances and lu t says the good negroes at the south ar< it men. Tue paper is pregnant wit! i- comment on the lynching. T reckoi e that is a'l right, for the liberty of tlx a press must not be restricted. Hul i nevertheless these titternncea from t Pledger's j aper go through the edu . eateil negro element and settle its , convictions, and thereby comes sonu i more outrages and lyhchings. New 1 York niggers eome out in their papers and advise the shotgun and the torch i in retaliation, and those thing's are l copied in the nig'ger papers at the i south. , Put here is the comfort: Uncle Sam I is still helping lue in n y garden and 1 doesent know and docsent care any thing about all this business. He says he was horn a slave and for thirty years has been a freeman and has always found that if a colored man done his duly the white man done his. i nele Sam has a large family and thiongh (lose Pepiihlicnn influences they have been corrupted and demoralized and lie has a lot of grandchildren who don't know their own father and the old man is grieved. I was ruminating about all this and how these negroes have all boon fooled about Grant and Lincoln being their friends and were lighting to free them, when there is not a word of truth in it. Neither of them cared a continental dime for the negro and both of them were more concerned about their own successes than anything else, lint I have had great regard for Lincoln, lie was a much better man than his party and his death was a calamity to the south I have recently received a little volume entitled "The Genesis of Abraham Lincoln." It is carefully and affectionately written hy James II. Cathey, of western North Carolina, and its unprejudiced perusal will convince nny man that Abraham Lincoln was the son o! Abraham i'.nloe, and that Nancy Hanks was a good orphan girl who served in Enloe's family. The nffid tvils and other evidences establish this beyond dispute. Old father Abraham Enloe was a second Abraham and poor Nancy Hanks a second Hagar and for the same reason she was sent awav from the paternal homestead to keep pence in tjie family. I'lie father of her child had great regard for her and placed her with his relatives in Kentucky, where she afterwards married Thomas Lincoln. Some of the witnesses to these facts arc now 90 years old and have passed I nil lli'sirn *" .1. 1 * . ..... ... .uri in! miyoouv. 1 lie I descendants of this Knloe family are numerous it ml tlieir testimony tins lieen taken from North Carolina, Missouri ami Texas, ami all confirm the story. \!1 the very ohl people in western North Carolina were familiar with the girl Nancy Hanks ami the Knloe family ami ohl man Knloe's acknowledgment of the child's paternity and why lie scut this modern llagar and her Ishinael away. Hut litis is no new thing. l>uring the war it was talked of in the army and Lincoln was denounced l?y the I entire Todd family, into which he married. Fifteen years ngo, while I 1 st journcd in western North Carolina, 1 t found the story current that Lincoln vas the sou of Abraham Enloe aud ivas named for him by his mother, Saucy Hanks. Now, Mr. Cathev writes a pretty little book about it md his excuse is that the truth cannot hurt the living or the dead; that Abraham Lincoln wus America's most remarkable man, aud there sl|onl?l be no attempt to cloud the life of n real liero. Cicero enys that the first law i.f history is that 'it should neither care to ray anything that is false nor bar to say anything that is true. It is, therefore, the sole purpose of this little book to prove that this wonderful man was not without ancestors. His mother was Nancy Harks. If be was the son of a woithy sire the world is entitled to know who that sire was, l.? .,.,,1 Uiisties. The custodians of this history of Abraham Lincoln are numbered I y f cores and hundiods of the first people?nun and women of western North Carolina, for the Enloes were u laigenrd influential family and their ilet-i eiulnnts have inteimarried with mnny di>tinguulu-d people. Hut I do not j<io|om' to leviiw the hcok. It is an inleret ting slid remarkable revelation. and is written l,y an enthusiastio ndinirer of Mr. Lincoln, and establishes beyond question his j atcrnity. Abraham Enloe was himself an extruoriiinaiy man?the father of thirteen children; and his photcginphic liketuns to this particular son is veiy striking, both in form and feature. Hoth were tho tamo height and hnd the tauie long, unshapely limbs. This little boot of 173 pnges was written liv .funics It. CntlieY of BrVHOII Oily. N. C'., and is kind in motive ami classic in sty'e. 1 thought when 1 first opened it that perhaps it had better net have been written, but on its perusal I believe that it is better for the whole truth to be told than that this remarkable man's genesis should continue to be uncertain and unknown. 1 nut now trying to solve another problem: the problem of how best to destroy the potato hug or beetle. Luist year I tried Paris green and was not satisfied. I am now knocking them olY morning and evening and hoeing the mound around the plants, and think that I hnvo whipped the tight. '1 his ^ will do for the garden, tint not for the iield. Professor Starnes will tell us a 'better way. I hope, for he is a scientific genius and the most enthusiastic, experimenter 1 have ever met. I,a-t week 1 visited Ihe experiment station ! at Athens, of which he has charge,and \ was delighted with the progress he has ou university farm. He is ahsorut-i j? j,jH work and I am sure he will make ii r *?|-??nt. success. "How is it," sum i to "that you can be so enthusiastic ,,Ver something that you do not own umt never will?" He smiled and said: "Six years' work in this business at ! Griflin and here has created within mo an absorbing love for it, and J feel like 1 this little farm nml garden and orchard 1 were all mine. My ambition is not oiny to lnuKc it h success practically, ' but to benefit the people by improved I methods and by remedies for tbe fn.il" uroK and disasters that arc incident to 1! the profession." I He bus now ten pupils under him I and expects to have half u hundred in II August. I hope the slnte will eneotir1 age him in his good work, for, like ! Smithson, his desire is to disseminate 1 knowledge among men.?limn Amp in Atlanta Constitution. (ileanings From the Shops. White velvet belts studded with steel headings. Sailor ties of soft satin with prettily knotted fringed ends. Pale-blue and cream-silk muslins covered with dresden figures. Sheer wash rubrics with swivel ligures-in self or contrasting shades. brightly colored silk ami lisle hosiery in tasteful open patterns. Silk and cotton mulls showing much drawn-work for summer dresses. Klaborate capes composed of luce, silk, ehitToii or some transparency. Tucked, colored, frilled and lucetrimmed parasols in bright and light colors. Colored pique skirts with white IuiikI on enner suit' Willi black Inn id. Kilt In' waists made <>f heavy venlse lace. to 1m* worn with light-weight loth skirts. Short cloth capos showing rows of inacliiiic stitching, hands of satin or effective braidings. I'oulanl pnvns triinnicd elaborately with broad bands of cream-colored batiste applique embroidery. A great variety of soft mull. net. chiffon with liberty scarfs with tucked, plaited or lace-triinnied ends. I .ace-straw toques triinnicd with rosettes and rondeau of tulles, sweeps of ostrich and jewelled ornaments. | Broad assortments of capes and very fancy coats of net. velvet or cloth with an abundance of rich appliques. downs of perforated biscuit-colored cloth, through which may be seen the n<-n Inundation material in contrast* ing shade.? 1 ?ry (Sends Economist. A HOI'Nl> DUKINITION. She (reading the paper)? What's a pachyderm, dearest '! He (irritably)?Oh, a beast who doesn't care a button for microbes. She ? (live me hoiiio illustration I can understand. He (pointing to a pilo of biilHj ? Well, those are the microbes, and ? She (interrupting)?Vou try to bo the pachyderm, a k at a i, omission. Caller?"is Mr. Scribbler, 0110 of your reporters, in ?" City Editor 'with n dark frown)? "No, sir. i have discharged him." Caller?"Indeed! .May i ask the reason ? ' City Editor "(wrathfully)?"Ho wrote up an account of a suicide without mentioning the calibre of the revolver."