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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 22, 1875. No. 38.
EVERY WEDNESDAY 1ORNING,
At Newberry, S. C.
BY THOt F. GRENEKER,
Editor and ProprlietOr.
Terss, $9. per .sssemS
Invarably i Advance.
t The Is tU i at the expirtiCQ of
time for w It is P.
By The N mark denotes expiration of mb
PRAYER A LA MODE.
Give me an eye to others' failings blind
(Miss Smith's new bonnet's quite a frght be
Wake in me charity for the suffering poor
(There comes that contribution-plate once
Take from my soul all feelings covetoUS
(I' have a bawl like that or make a fuss!)
Let love for all my kind my spirit stir
(Save Mr Jones! 111never speak to her!)
Let me in Truth's fair pages take delight
(I'11 read that other novel through to night!)
Make me contented with my earthly state
(I wishrd married rich, but it's too late!)
Give me a heart of fiuth in afl my kind
(Miss Brown's as big a hypocrite as you'll
Help me to see myself as others see
(This dress is quite becoming Unto me!)
Let-me act out no falsehood, I appeal
(Wonder if they think these curls are real!)
Make my heart of humility the fount
(How glad I am our pew's so near front!)
Fil me with patience and strength to wait
(I know he'n preach until our dinner's
Take from my heart each grain of self-con
(I'm sure the gentleman must think me
Lot saintly wisdoma be my daily food
(I wEonder what they'll have for dinner
Let not my feet ache in the road to light
(Nobody knows how these shoes pinch and
In this world teach me to deserve the next
(Church out! Charles, do you recollect the
* AZ DRISE STORY.
It was a little after midnight
that,a knock came to the door of
our cabin. I heard it first, for I
used to sleep in a little snug basket
p-near the fire ; but I didn't speak,
for I was frightened. ~It was re
peated still louder, and then came
"Con Cregan ! Con, I say, open
the door! I want you."
.1 knew the voice well ; it was
Peter McCabe's ; but I pretended
to be fast asleep, and snored loud
ly. At last my father unbolted
tedoor, and I heard him say :
"O, Mr. Peter, what's the mat
ter? Is the ould man worse ?"
"Faix that's what he is, for he's
dead," replied Peter.
"Glory be his bed ! When did
it happen ?"
"About an hour ago," said Peter,
in a voice that even I, from my
corner, could perceive greatly ag
itated. "He died like an ould hea
then, Con, and never made a
"That's bad," says my father,
for he was always a polite man,
and said whatever was pleasing
to the company.
"It is bad," said Peter ; "but it
would be worse if he couldn't
help it. Listen to me now, Cor
ney ; I want ye to help me in this
business; and here are five guineas
in gold if ye do what I bid ye.
You know that ye were always
reckoned the very image of my
father, and before he took ill ye
were mistaken for each other ev
ery day of the week."
"Anan !" said my father, for
he was getting frightened at the
notion, without well knowing
"Well, what I want is for ye
to come over into the house, and
get into the bed."
"Not beside the corpse ?" said
my father, trembling.
"By no means, but by yourself;
and you're to pretend to be my
father, and that ye want to make
yer will before ye die ; and then
I'll send for the neighbors, and
Billy Scanlan, the schoolmaster,
and ye'll tell him what to write,
leaving all the farm and every
thing to me, ye un derstand.
And as the n.eighbors will see
ye and hear yer voice, it will nev
er be believed but it was himself
that did it."
"And the priest?" said my fa
"My father quarreled with him
last week about the Easter dues;
and Father Tom said he'd not give
him the rites; and that's lucky
now! Come along now, quick, for
we've no time to lose; it must all
be finished before the day breaks."
"All right," was the reply.
My father did not lQse much
time at his toilet, for he just wrap
ped his big coat around him, and
slipping on the brogues, he left
the house. I sat up in the basket,
and listened till they were gone
some minutes; and then, in a cos
tume as light as my parent's set
out after them to watch the course
of the adventure. I thought to
take a short cut, and be there be
fore them, but by bad luck I fell in
to a bog hole, and only escaped
drowning bya chance. As it was,
v hen I reached the house, the per
formance had already began.
I think I see the whole scene
this instant before my eyes, as I
sat on a little window with one
pane, and that a broken one, and
surveyed the proceeding. It was
a large room, at one end of which
was a bed, and beside it was a ta
ble with physic bottles, and spoons,
and teacups; a little further off
was another table, at which sat
Billy Scanlan, with all manner of
writing materials before him. The
country people sat two and some
times three deep round the walls,
all intently eager and anxious
for the coming event; Peter
himself went from pl a e e to
place, trying to smother h i s
grief, and occasionally helping
the company to whisky; which
was supplied with more than ac.
All my consciousness of the de
ceit and trickery could not deprive
the scene of a certain solemnity.
The misty distance of the half
lighted room; the highly wrought
expression of the country people's
faces, never more intensly excited
than at some moment of this
kind; the low, deep-drawn breath
ings, unbroken save by a sigh o:
a sob; the tribute of affectionate
sorrow to some lost friend, whose
memory was thus forcibly brought
back-these were all so real, that,
as I looked, a thrilling sense of
awe stole over me, and I actually
shook with fear.
A low, faint cough from the dark
corner where the bed stood seem
ed to cause even a deeper stillness;
and then, in a silence where the
buzzing of a fly would have been
heard, my father said :
"Where's Billy Scanlan ? I
want to make my will !"
"He's here, father," said Peter,
taking Billy by the hand, and lead
ing him to the bedside.
"Write what I bid ye, Billy, and
be quick; for I haven't a long
time 'afore me here. I die a good
Catholic, though Father O'Raffer
ty won't give me the rites !"
A general chorus of muttered,
"Oh! musha, musha!" was now
heard through the room; but,
whether in grief over the sad fate
of the dying man, or the uniflinch.
ing severity of the priest is hard to
"I die in peace with all my
neighbors and all mankind."
Another chorus of the company
seemed to approve these char
"I bequeath unto my son Peter
-and there never was a better
son or a decenter boy !-I[ bequeath
unto my son Peter the whole of
my two farms of Killimundoonery
and Knocksheboora, with the fal
low meadows behind Lynch's
house; the forge and right of turf
on the Dooran bog. I give him
and much good may it do him
Lanty Cassarn's acre, and the
Leary field with the lime-kiln; and
that reminds me that my mouth is
just as dry. Let me taste what
ye have in the jag."
Here the dying man took a
very hearty pull, and seemed con
siderably refreshed by it.
"Where was I, Billy Scanlan ?"
says he; "oh; I remember ; at the
lime-kiln. I leave him-that's Pe
ter I mean-the two potato gar
Idens at :Noonan's Well ; and it is
Ithe elegant fine crops grows
"Ai;n't on getting wake father,
darlin'" says Peter who began to
be afraid of my father's loquacious
ness; for to say the truth, the
punch got into his head, and he
was greatly disposed to talk.
"I am, Peter my son," says he;
"I am getting wake; just touch
my lips again with the jug. Ah!
Peter, Peter, you watered the
"No indeed, father, but it's the
taste is lavin' you," said Peter, and
again a chorus of compassionate
pity murmured through the wide
"Well, I'm nearly done now,"
says my father. "There's only
one little spot of ground remain
ing, and I put it on you, Peter-as
ye wish to live a good man, and
die with the same easy heart as I
do now-that ye mind my last
words to ye here. Are ye listen
ing? Are the neighbors listening?
Is Billy Scanlan listening ?"
"Yes, sir; yes father we're all
minding," chorused the audience.
"Well, then, it's my last will and
testament, and may-give me over
the jug"-here he took a long
drink-"and may that blessed li
quor be poison to me if I'm not
as eager about this as every other
part of the will; I say, then, I
bequeath the little plot at the
cross-roads to poor Con Cregan, for
he has a heavy charge, and is as
honest and hard working a man
as ever I knew. Be a friend to
him, Peter, dear, never let him
want while ye have it yourself
-think of me on my death-bed
whenever he asks ye for any trifle.
Is it down Billy Scanlan? the
two acres at the cross to Con Cre
gan and his heirs forever. Ah,
blessed be the saints! But I feel my
heart grows lighter after that,"
says he, "a good work makes an
easy conscience. And now I'll
drink all the company's good
health, and m a n y happy re
What he was going to add,
there's no saying; but Peter,
who was now terribly frightened
at the lively tone the sick man
was assuming, hurried all the peo
ple into another room to let his
father die in peace.
When they were all gone, Peter
slipped back to my father,who was
putting on his brogues in a corner.
"Con," says he, "ye did it all
well; but sure that was a joke
about the two acres at the cross."
"Of course it was, Peter !" says
he ; "sure it was all a joke, for the
matter of that; won't I make the
neighbors laugh hearty to-morrow
when I tell them all about it?"
"What!" exclaimed Peter in
amazement. "Tell 'em all about
"Faith and why shouldn't I ?"
returned my father dryly.
"You wouldn't be mean enough
to betray me?" says Peter trem
bling with fright.
"Sure, ye wouldn't be mean
enough to go against your father's
dying words !" says my father ;
"the last sentence ever he spoke ;"
and here he gave a low, wicked
laugh that made myself shake with
"Very well, Con I" says Peter,
holding out his hand ; "a bargain's
a bargain; yer a deep fellow, that's
Father only chuckled a little at
this ; but said nothing.
And so it ended, and my father
slipped quietly away over the bog,
mighty well satisfied with the lega
cy he loft himself.
And thus we became the owners
of the little spot known to this
day as Con's Acre.
* Now, young man, listen while
we tell you how to pop the ques
tion. Get your june bug well corner
ed where no one can overhear you
and then poke this conundrum at
When will there be only 25 let
ters in the alphabet?
Answer-When you and I are
After that it is plain sailing.
Our charge for this is a box of ci
gars in each case of successful ap
plication-the charge to be and
remain a debt of honor until sat
isfied and discharged.
Let the hopes of mercy encour
age you to the exercise of repen
CLASSES ACTUALLY NEG
BY REV. E. P. ROGERS, D. D.
We beg leave to ask, "Who are
the neglected classes in o u r
The answer will perhaps be
"They are the poor, the ignorant
the degraded, the vicious;" whc
crowd tenement houses, burrow
in cellars, herd in quarters where
filth and squalor reigri: where
honest industry and sobriety are
strangers and the decent and vir
tuous are rarely seen. Tbe neglec
ted classes are said to be those
who beg in the public streets, or
live by petty thieving, who patron
ize our lowest dram shops, and
figure most extensively in our
police records. "These," say a
thousand voices, "these are the
With all due deference, we beg
leave to dissent from this state
ment. We do not deny the exis
tence, we do not extenuate the
vices, we do not depreciate the
misery of these classes. Neither
do we question at all our obliga.
tion to provide for their temporal
and spiritual improvement. But we
deny that these are par excellence,
"the neglected classes." They are
not neglected. Very many agen.
cies are always at work in their be
half. A great army of institutions,
of laborers, and of givers, make
them their special care. Our so
cieties for the relief of the poor
our Children's Aid Societies, our
Homes for Little Wanderers, oui
Five Points Missions, our Juvenile
Asylums, and Homes for the
Friendless; our Dispensaries and
Nurseries, and Hospitals; our free
schools and colleges, are only a
few of the agencies sustained, or
a scale of great liberality, for the
temporal benefit of just these
classes, while a great deal is done
for their spiritual benefit. In ad
dition to our public institutions
such as the city Mission and tracl
Society, with its free places o:
worship and its devoted male anc
female missionaries w h o givE
their entire time to labors foi
these classes ; every church hat
its mission chapel and schools, iti
Bible reader and visitor, its bands
of teachers and'workers, who free
ly give their best time and much
of their money, their sympathies
and their prayers, for the relig
ious teachings and training oi
these same classes. If all tbe timE
that is spent for them, if all th<
money that is given,if all the zea
that is expended,and if all the worl
and prayer that are consecrate<
to the best interests of this class
could be fully summed up, and ac
curately estimated, it would be
most astonishing exhibit, an<
would confirm and illustrate thi
position which we take, that thE
poor are not "the neglected cla ss.'
Who, then, are they ? Wher<
shall we find them ? We shall fin<
them on our fashionable avenues
and our most respectable streete
We shall find them in brown stoni
dwellings, in first class boarding
houses, and in palatial hotels.
Many of them ride in luxuriou
carriages, are "clothed in purpli
and fine linen and fare sumptuousla
every day." Many of them havE
ample credit at stores and banks
and are well known at Saratogs
and Newport, in London and il
Paris. None of them are poor
all of them are what is called res
petable; all of them have
comfortable share of the goo<
things of this life. They fre
quent the Park, they patronizi
the theatre, they are at homn'
at the opera, they give handsom<
entertainments to their friends
they are looked up to with env:
by multitudes who regard them a
the highest and happiest class.
But these are the neglected classes
They are farther removed, prac
tically, from the'influences of Chris
tianity than the poor and th
vicious. Multitudes of them havy
no connection with the Christial
church, either as communicants
pwholders, or even as habitua
worshippers. Multitudes of ther
do not number a Christian pasto
amng thnir acnqua*mtances. Man;
of them rarely enter a church, ex
cept at a wedding or a funeral.
Their children go to no Sunday
school, and never receive anj
religious teaching at home. Tb
subject of their soul's salvation;
their peroonal accountability tc
God ; their need of some adequate
preparation for death and eterni
ty; all thesegreatsolemn realitieZ
are as far removed from thoir
sphere of thought and experience:
as if they lived in a heathen
land. No Christian qpastor visit:
their dwelling, no Christian friend
speaks to them about Jesus ; nc
religious volume or journal invitec
their perusal; the missionary and
Bible reader pass their door or
their way to the tenement house,
but never enter; no man seemE
to care for their souls ; and thesc
respectable, wealthy, fasbionable
families, in the midst of this Chris,
tian metropolis, by scores, are liv.
ing "without hope, and withoni
God in the world !"
Here then is the really and sad
ly "neglected class." No class it
so neglected as they. And it is s
large one io this city, and growing
larger every day. What a wast<
is here, how much mind, ho
much position, how much in
fluence on society, how muct
wealth, is massed here, uncon
secrated to God, lost to Christ
and His cause! How much is lav
ished on the world, the flesh and
the Devil ? Has the Church, hav
Christians, have God's ministers
no duties or obligations to thii
neglected class ? Perhaps ever3
family in our congregations is ac
quainted with one or more house
holds.who belong to this class
We appeal to them to considei
whether, without infringing upoi
any of the proprietres of life, with
out transgressing any rule of good
breeding they m%y not do somq
true Christian work in this diree
tion. We appeal to our Christiat
men, who are thrown into associa
tions of business,or art,or social life
witb men of this class to seek ou
ways of approaching them on thi
subject of their religious welfare
And we appeal to our Christian la
dies who meet such families in sc
ciety, or at summer resorts, or any
where else, to do the same thing
Here is a field too long, too sadl;
neglected, which may generousl;
repay a faithful judicious Christial
And have Christian mioister
no duty to this class ? They d
not come to us; ougbt we not t
go to them ? We may thinki
indelicate, or undignified, and
may shrink from it. But havy
we no duties to the neglected fan
ilies who live all around oa
churches, and yet seem to be liv
ing in practical heathenism ?
Respected and honored bretli
ren ! Let us think less of dignit;
and propriety in this directioi
and more of the precious immorts
souls who are living without Go
and dying without hope, unde
the very shadow of the temple
where we minister.
[New York Observer.
SCOTT's PART OF THE STORY.
Bret Harte tells the story of tw
California miners, Y o r k an
Scott, who, after having been par
nors for a long time, quarrelled
and became deadly enemies. Thei
feud was the amusement of th
whole settlement where they lived
and when, finally, they ran a
rival candidates for Legislature
everybody turned out to hea
them speak against each other
York began, and unfolded Scott
.disgraceful career, no less to th
astonishment than the amusemen
of the audience, who had not ha
the privilege of knowing their fel
low citizen as intimately as th
speaker. When he got througi
it was Scott's turn. "There
naught, gentlemen," said he
"there's naught as that man he
said as isn't true. I was run oute
Cairo ; I did belong to the Regi
lators; I did desert from the arm~
I did leave a wife in Kansas. Bu
there's one thing he didn't charg
me with, and maybe he's foi-gotter
For three years gentlemen, I wa
that man's pardner." A burst c
applause, according to Mr. Hart
artistically rounded and enforce
'this climax, and virtually electe
A BOSTON LADY'S EXPERI
SHE TELLS THE STORY OP HER TRIP
TO THE COUNTRY-ALONE ALL
Mrs. A., who resides in one of
the fine mansions of Boston, liked
the reading of one of those adver
tisements that appear daily in the
papers, which told of a lovely spot
which was "just the place to spend
a few weeks in summer," so she
corresponded at once with the par
ties, and made arrangements to
go up and board with them, but
forgot to add when she would be
there. One morning she left Bos
ton on the first train, after receiv
ing a promise from her husband
that he would soon join her.
About two in the afternoon she
reached as she thought, her place
of destination, but upon inquiry
found that there were five hours
ride by stage in store for her.
This announcement quite nettled
her, as in giving directions this
fact had not been mentioned, but
she engaged passage on the stage,
which proved to be a two seated
wagon, on which she started off
alone, with one of those good na
tured though rough _stage drivers
!often found in the country, who
know everybody's business, talk to
their passengers as though they
were old acquaintances, and- per
sist in asking questions until they
have learned their names, where
they are from, where they are
r going, and how long they intend
to stay. He at once entered
into conversation with Mrs. A.,
in the usual style, and when he
learned where she was going and
for what purpose, he gave a low
whistle and said, "wal, I guess I can
reckon on you for a passage back
to-morrow." When she questio ned
her informant as to what he knew
of the place and people, he said :
"Oh, they are good enough,1.spose.
but it is the lonesomest place you
ever saw." She was feeling very
homesick when they drove up to a
large farm house,a desolate looking
-place, with no paint on the build
ings, not a blind on the bouse, half
of the windows were without cur
tains, and there was not a tree or
shrub or flow er to he seen in the
rlittle field that inclosed this
Sdreary habitation. It was bard
work .to keep back the tears,
while she begged the driver not to
leave her there but he said:
S"Why, dear woman, to stop here
tis the only thing you can do, for
there is not a hotel within ten
miles ;" so with a heavy heart she
alighted, tired and hungry, and
r the driver rapped away on the
front door with his whip, but re
ceived no response, so they wvent
-around to the back door, and there
Yencountered a -man with a pail
full of milk in each hand. Upon
beingr informed who the newcomer
Swas, the farmer said: ''Wal, now,
rthat's tu bad ! We didn't think
Syou'd come so soon, and my old
woman has gone away ; bat nev
er mind, she'll be here in the morn
ing." Before the driver left the
- lady spoke low, and charged him
o not to forget her on the morrow,
d for she would return with him.
-When left alone with the farmer,
, he invited her into the house and
r showed her supperless to her
e room; but what a room it was
, no carpet on tho floor, no paper
s on the walls, not a lock on one of
' the doors. As soon as she was
r left alone she threw herself on the
.bed and cried sherself to sleep.
s When she rose the next morning,
e she saw a female gliding about
t the house, and upon inquiry learn
i ed to her horror that she had been
- left alone in that great house all
e night while the host drove twenty
E1 miles away after his "old woman."
s Soon after the stage came rattling
,along, and despite the urgent en
z treaties of the homespun couple,
r Mrs.A.jumped aboard,and she now
- declares that it was the happiest
; moment of her life when she was
t once more seated behind the good
e natured stage driver.
s The Hon. R. M. T. Hunter,
f State Treasurer of Virginia, re
, ceives a salary of $2,000, of which
I he reserves a very small amount
d for his own use, devoting the hal
ance to his creditors.
TAKING THE CENSUS.
Census taking isn't the pleasant
est business that a hard-up young
man with a moderate education,
can go into. It is in progress
here, just row, on a pretty large
scale. One of the census men
went into a tenement house in
Mulberry street the other day and
bad a large assortment of experi
ence. He began in the basement,
occupied by a heathen Chinee, and
spentforty-five minutes in eliciting:
"Me no takes Melican; me washee;
me washee good; you bet." it
wasn't exactly the information
called for by the schedule, but he
made the best of it, and knocked
at the first door up stairs.
It was opened by a sturdy Ger
man lady, who eyed. him angrily,
and said: "We don't got small
box; go owit," and when. he start
ed the regular questions at her,
she jammed him up with the
door, repeating every time he
groaned, "we don't got no small
box, aint it owit." He finally made
her understand that he wasn't a
vaccinater from the Health Board,
and succeeded in getting the ne
cessary points for his census list.
On the next floor he encounter
ed a venerable Scotchman. who
was very courteous, but couldn't
hear a word. and who answered
every question with "Bide a wee,
mon," or "I dinna kin." Pretty
much every nationality represen
ted in New York was met in turn
as the census man made his way
to the top floor-English, French,
Italian besides those already indi
cated-and at last he got up an in
terview with a muscular Hiber
nian female,presiding over a wash
"The cinsus, is it?" was her re
sponse to his first observation;
"an' what the devil is ver old cin
sus to me ?"
"Can't help that, mum, must get
your name and age and all about
your family; we'll begin with
"Arrah, will ye, no? Och, then,
"But you mus~t give me your
name." "Troth'n, I won't. Me
name is a dacent one, but the sor
ra one o' me'll give it to any spal
peen like you this blessed day."
''Come, come, ma'am, this won't
do ; if you don't answer my ques.
tions I'll have to call an officer."
"An officer, is it ? an officer for
a dacent woman like me ? Tom,
Torn, come out here widyer;
here's a dhirty blaggard threaten
in' the p'liece on me."
Tom, a brawny fellow, about
six feet two; came out with a fire
shovel, and the census man went
down stairs to keep an engage.
ment. A bout a gallon of soap suds
sprinkled him on the next landing,
and he heard a celtic voice say.
"Come back wid yer cinsus
now, me man. Cinsus, indeed!
Comin' to a dacent woman to ax
yer imp'dent questions. What
the divil is yer old cinsus to the
likes of us ?"-N. Y. .Letter to
A PioUs AND PRUDENT LADY.
A foreign correspondent says|:
The English Admiral W-is
a man of advanced age, and the
forth husband of a . lady known
for eccentric piety. 1 had been
told that she was in the habit of
speaking in the, presence of her
husband of his approaching and
inevitable end, and once I attribu
ted much of this to my informant's
imagination. But the other day I
had in my own hands and read
with my own eyes, the following
note written by the lady in ques
tion V o her wine merchant:
"Please send up six bottles of
sherry, six bottles of magon and
six bot.les of old Scotch whiskey,
but if anything should occur in
the meantime will you change the
whiskey for magon ? for when the
admiral is in heaven what should
I do with the whiskey?" Signed
by her ladyship in full, and she
richly deserves that I should give
her name to the public.
The compositor who substituted
an "in" for "w" in speaking of a
lady troubled with "swelling of the
feet," accomplished the worst ty
pnapnhical feat on record.'
Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.00
per square-one inch-for first insertion, and
75c. for each subsequent insertion, Donbsle
column advertisements tenper cent on aboie.
Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribut es
of respect, same rates per square as ordinary
Special notices in local column 15 cents
Advertisements not marked with the nuni
ber of insertions will be kept in till forbid
and charged accordingly.
Special contracts made with large adver
tisers, with liberal deductions on above rates.
Done with Neatness and Dispatch.
An experiment made in Herr
Krupp's artillery grounds at Dul
men in Prussia, seems to threaten
the future of cuirassed vessels.
Hitherto, it is well known, the so
lidity of the cuirass has pretty
well kept pace with the calibre
of the ordinance destined to do
the woik of destruction. By a fe
licitous idea, ho wever, the force of
the cannon has now been quadra
pled. The invention, if so it may
be called, consists in directing four
guns toward the same spot, and
firing them simu'taneously by
electric ignition. To test this new
method a target was constructed
by Herr Krupp consisting of two
10-inch plates, a wooden layer 200
milimetres thick, two 6-inch plates,
and another layer of wood 200
milimetres thick, the whole lined
by an iron layer 1i-inch thick. At
a distance of 200 meters from this
target were placed four 26-centi
meter cannon, the calibre of which
may be imagined from the fact
that each requires 42 kilos. of
prismatic powder. The first sim
ultaneous discharge of the four
guns, which were loaded with
long cubic grenades, tore away
large pieces of the iron plates, and
so shook the target as essentially.
to diminish its resisting power.
Other discharges seem to have
had an even more destructive ef
fect. As the power of the German
breech-loading gun is greatest at
400 meters, at which distance the
naval engagements of the future
are likely to open, the Dulmen.
experiment is supposed by some to '
have decided the long-pending
controversy of cannon v e r s u s
cuirass.-N. Y. Sun.
A MINE oF SwEETNESs.-Gener
ally when we hear of rich strikes
it is in the gold or silver line, but
this time it turns out to be honey
pure and sweat. A few days
since, as the workmen on-the tun
nel at Cajon Pass were hauling
over some rocks they came across
a deposit of honey, and taking a
pole and running it into the moun
tain were surprised to find no bot
tom. They got a long pole, some
twenty feet in length, and were
unable to touch bottom with that.
Uphon withdrawing the pole the
honey began to run out, and soon
tubs,buckets, and two barrels were
filled, and still it flowed. Some
parties came in town and loaded
up with barrels, and propose to
make a business of it. They put
in a charge of powder and blew
off a portion of the rock, which
disclosed tons upon tons of honey.
Our informant states that after
exploring it from below Lo where
the bees were fgund to enter, it
was found to be about one-fourth of
a mile,and it is his opinion that the
whole cavity is filled with honey.
He estimates over 100 tons in
sight, and believes that 1,000 tons
would not be an unfair estimate.
This immense deposit cannot be
equalled by any ever found. Ac
cording to the above estimate it
wvould take every barrel and hogs
head in San Bernardino to hold it.
[San Bernardino Argus.
ANECDOTES OF NAPOLEON III.
Successful men even though their
succesc has been brief, and less no
ble than brilliant, have generally
been those who have followed on
purpose, and stuck to it through all
In 1837 adinner party was given
in New York city, at Chancellor
Kent's. Some of the most distin
guished men of the city sat down
at the table. Among them was a
young and rathr melancholy and
"In the course of the evening,"
says Professor Morse, who was
one of the guests; "I drew the at
tention of Mr. Gallatin to the
stranger, observing that his .fore
head indicated great intellect."
"Yes," replied Mr. Gallatin,
touching his own forehead with
his finger, "there is a great deal
in that head of his; but he has a
strange fancy. Can you believe
it? he has the idea that he will
one day be the Emperor of the
French. Can yon conceive of any
thing so absurd?
t that idea ersistently