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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
V11. XV0 WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 20, 18-9. No. 34
EVErY WEDNESDAY M011NING,
At Newberry, S. C.
BY THOS. P. GRANEKER,
Editor and I-oprietor.
Terms, $.00 per dinnuag
invariably in Advance.
r 1we paper is stopped at the expirntion of
time for which it is paid.
- The M mark denotes expiration of sub
Our stock of Men's, Youths' a-d Boy's
For SPRING and SUMMER, is now coin
plete, and is second to no establishment of
the kind in the State. No pains is being
spared to keep it first class in every respect.
In addition to our Ready-Made Clothing,
&c., we are prepared to get up suits, or any
garment, to order, guaranteeing satisfaction
in every particular, furnishing several hun
dred samples of different fabrics from which
to select. We respectfully solicit a trial of
our skill in this direction, feeling sure that
if those of our people who are wont to send
abroad for their Clothing will give us an
opportunity we will secure to them equal
satisfaction and save them money.
We call attention to our Furnishing
Goods Department, especially to our Laun
dried and Unlaundried Sh:rts, of the latter
we claim to sell the best $1.00 Shirt to be
found in any market. Also to our stock of
Men's and Boy's Hats, embracing Stiff and
Soft Cassimeres, Mackinaws, Leghorns, &c.,
all of the latest styles. We invite examina
tion of all; 1f you are not pleased do not
W1RIGilT & J, W. CJOPPOK,
No. 4 Mollohon Row,
NEWBERRY, S. C.
Apr. 23, 1 7-1y
JVatches, Clocks, Jewelry.
WATHIES AND 1EW~ELRY
At the New Store on Hotel Lot.
I have now on hand a large and elegant
WATCHES, CLOCKS, JEWELRY,
Silver and Plated Ware,
VIOLIN AND GUITAR~ STRINGS,
SPECTACLES AND SPECTACLE CASES,
WEDDING AND BIRTHDAY PRESENTS.
IN ENDLESS TARIETY.
All orders by mail promptly attended taf
Watchmaking and Repairing
Done Cheaply and witha Dispatch.
Call and examine my stock and prices.
Nov. 21, 47-tf.
COLUMBIA, S. C.
The undersigned has the best appointed
IN THE STATE.
FRENCH AND ENGLISH
CLOTHS AND CASSIMRE
None but First Class Work
W. C SWAFFIELD),
AC E NT.
A pr. 165, 16-6mn.,
KIJt I.0HAPMAN & SOIN
Respectfully announce that they have or
hand the largest and best variety of BU
RIAL CJASES ever brought to Newberry
Fisk's Metalic Cases,
A TORPID LVER
is the fruitful source of nany diseases, promi
rent IMinn which are
DYSPEPSIA, SICK-HEADACHE, COSTIVENESS,
DYSENTERY, BitIUS FEVER, AGUE AND FEVER,
JAUNDICE, P'LES, RHEUMATISM, KIDNEY COM
PLAINT, COLIC, ETC.
SYMS OF A
Loss of Appetite ond Nausea, the bowels
as ostive, b,.t sometimes alternste -with
looseness, Pain in the Head, accompamed
'with~a Du1-ensinh eback part,Pain
in~tlie riht~side ndunderthe shoulder
blade~ fulniess~afer eating, with a disin
clination to exertion of body~ormind, Irri
tabilityof temper,_Low spirits, Loss of
memory, with afeeling of having neglected
some duty, General weariness; Dizzines,
Fluitering at the Heart, Dots before the
eyes, Yellow Skn, Head~ache generally
over the right eye,Restlessnes at night
with fitful dreams, highly colored Urine.
IF THESE WARWIT.1GS ARE UNEEDEDs
SERIOUS DISEASES WILL SOON BE DEVELOPED.
are especially adapted to such
cases, a single dose effects
such a change of feeling as to
astonish the sufferer.
are compounded from subrtances that are
free from any properties that can ijure
the most delicate organization. They
Search, Cleanse, Purify, and Invigorate
the entire System. By relieving the en
gorged Liver, they cleanse the blood
from poisonous hamors, and thus impart
health and vitality to the body, causing
the bowels to act naturally, without
which no one can foel well.
A Noted Divine says:
Dr. TUMT -Doar Sir: For teon years I have been
a martyr to Dy3pepsia. Constipation and Piles. Last
Spigyour Pills were recommende(i to me; I used
hem (bat with little ftith). I am now a wll man,
have good appotite. digestion perfect. regular stools,
Cs o -n! [have gained forty ounds solid flesh.
E V a n wPPSo? Louisville, Ky.
Their first effect is to Increase the Appetite,
and cause the body to Take on Flesh, thus the
system is nourished, and by their Tonic Ac
tion on the Digestive Organs, Regular
Stools are produced.
DR, . F, HAYWOOD,
OF NEW YORK, SAYS:
Sew Aise"2a xist. that cannot be relioved by r
this ppoeno romd as evrbee invented thai
SOLD EVERYWH ERE, PRICE 25 CENTS.
Offlee 35 Murray .Street, New York.
EF Dr. TUTTT'S MANUAL of Valuable Inf or
mation and Useful Receipts " will be maiiedfree
TUTT'S HAIR DYE,
BLs CK byasinl appiiai1o t YL D It- tf
as Hrml~sa spring vater Sod bv DSits or
ser.a by express ion receipt ot SI.
Office, 35 Murray St., New York.
OLD AND RELIABLE,
DR. SANFORD'S LIVER INVIGORATOR
is a Standard Family Remedy for,~
diseases of the Liver, Stomach
and Bowels. -It is Purely J P
Vegetable.- It never '
Cathartic and .
~. ~ .9has been 1:sd
A 'and by the pule
~'.'for more than 5 ye: rs,
with unprecCI ate-l r s
SE'ND FO R C R U LA "
Lamar Purchasi[ Ag
Everything bought with taste and dis
cretion~ X. Y. Correspondent of HERALD
connected with this Agency. Senid for cir
,cular with prices. Best city references.
Address MRS. ELLEN LAMAR,
e8p.9 S77 Broadway, New York.
A r ,15-tf.
R'ISTON DINNER II0IJ8E,
IPassengers on both the up and down
trains have the usual time for DINNER at
and the S. fth . & C. R. R. ,
Fare well prepared, and tihe charge rea
sonable. MRS. M. A. ELKINS.
was the old subscriber,
His eyes were old and dim,
ut "he wan't takin' no paper
That was nokin' chaff at him."
'or he picked his paper up one day
And it went to his heart like a rocket;
"Whom the gods love, die young, it said,
But they whose hearts are dry," he read,
'As summer's dust, burn to the socket."
'hen he looked through the paper with
wrath and doubt.
And his heart with anger burned;
'or he found a t had been left out
And he found an o that was "turned."
ind he lifted his voice with a mighty shout
As the sheet with his feet he spurned.
le stopped his paper; he would not read
Suh a blundering, villainous sheet;
)f the news it contained he bad no need,
He could hear the news on the street.
)nly ten days later, he sold his corn,
But he pounded his head full of dents,
hen he learned, after selling for twelve
It was quoted at forty-two cents.
knd his farm was sold for taxes, because
He didn't know when they were due,
.nd he bet on a race three days after date,
And he bet on the wrong horse, too.
le was fined nine dollars and seventy cents
For going out shooting on Sunday,
For he did'nt know, with no paper to read,
Whether t'was Sunday or Monday.
Ie came to town to the Fourth of July,
But it had been gone for a week,
knd he felt so mad, that he wanted to cry,
For he didn't know how to speak.
Ee thought that Grant was President yet,
And he never had heard of Hayes;
t was worry, and blunder, and trouble, and
All of his weary days.
3o he came to town, one summer morn,
And "signed" for his paper again,
tnd went back home to his wheat and corn,
The happiest man among men.
'Oh, 1 wish I wore rich,' said
ena Lewis, out aloud, in the full
ess of her hcart. 'I wish I could
e a fine lady and play croquet in
soft muslin edged with lace, and
irench kid hoots, and wear real
irds of paradise in my hat like
lIiss Clara.' And leaning her el
OWS on the wide window sea.t she
ooked down through.the morning
;cren of Lamarque rose leaves at
hec merry party on the lawn
Little Rena Lewis' life had all
een one upward aspiration. She
iad no idea where she was horn.
e only knew that they had
*ound her in a basket on the steps
)f the 'Dorcas Foundling Asylum,'
.vith a shawl wrapped around her,
nd a pair of bright brown eyes
itaring up at the sky. She had
een 'bound out' at ten years old,
ud her unusual quickness and
;pirit chancing to attract the at
ention of her mistress, had so
~ured her a good English educa
'Rena,' said Mrs. Brown, when
he was seventeen, 'you are too
right and intelligent for a mere
servant-maid ; you have more
rains than are Deeded for scouring
pots and dusting chairs. Howv
ould you like to become a
'Oh, Mrs. Birown,' said she , 'it is
what I have always dreamed
'Mrs. Alen was here yesterday,'
said her mistress ; 'she has a niece
iving out at Georgetown Hcights,
who wants a nursery governese
for her little girls. Salary $25 ai
month-duties light and agree.
able. I think, Rena, you could
teach two little girls their read
ing and spelling, and keep theit
ribbons fr*esh anid their p)infores
'Oh, I know I could !' eried th<
girl, with reddening cheeks an.
lips all garlanded with happy
smiles. 'But-my clothes: ;1'v<
nothing but a dyed merino anc
two faded calico dresses-'
''ll see to that, mny dear,' sait
Mrs. Brown, kindly. 'You hav<
worked faithfully for me and yot
deserve a present. I will give yoi
an outfit; and I will tell Mrs
Alen, who has a few toolish ideal
on the subject of social position
that you are the orphan child c
a friend of mine. It's a little hi
of a white lie, to be sure, hut
don.'t fhinuk the roOrdingr ang6
wili ne very hard on me for
So Rena Lewis went to the
handsome Italian villa on George
town Heights, and fancied her
self in Eden. Mrs. Alen, the
younger, declared herself delight
ed with the new governess. 'She's
so pretty,' said Mrs. Alen, 'and
has such a soft, soaring voice, and
Loo and Olie are so fond oflaer.
And she dres, as Clara's hair so
exquisitely ; better than any Pari.
sian maid could do.'
For Miss Clara Alen, Mr. James
Alen's cousin from the South,
was there spending the summer,
and it was Miss Clara's dresses,
Miss Clara's jewelry, and Miss
Clara's general dash and glitter
that had awakened all these long
ing ideas in poor Rena's heart,
especially since Harold Reede had
begun to come there so much.
Harold Reede was the hand
some young rector of a neighor
ing church-tall, dark and dis
tingue. lie had asked Rena Low.
is to take charge of a class in the
Sunday-school; he had escorted her
home one rainy Sunday night, as
courteously as if she had been one
of the royal princesses; and in her
secret heart Rena thought him the
best, the noblest and the most
beautiful of human beings. Just
as the big round tears were trem
bling on her eyelashes, behind the
screen of Lamarque roses, in the
still sunshine of the August after
noon, Miss Alen's voice was heard
echoing on the stairs.
'Rena! Rena Lewis! are you
dead and buried, or what has be
come of you ?'
Rena started up hurriedly,
brushing the dew from her eye
'1 am here, Miss Alen,' said
'Can you play croquet?' im
periously called out the fair Clara.
'Then come down at once,' said
Miss Aleu. 'Alice IIarland, tire
some thing, has gone home wvith a
headache- and we want one more
to finish the game. I don't sup
pose you are much of a player
but you will do better than noth
Little Rena Lewis, far too much
elated by the prospect of croquet
to pay much heed to the ungra
ciousness of the invitation, flew to
put on her hat, and came blushing
and smiling down stairs like an
animated daisy. Rev. Harold
Reede, as it chanced, was her part
nr, and he thought he had never
seen so fair and fresh a creature
as Rena, in garden hat, with na
ture's own roses on her cheeks.
and eyes that shone like stars be
neath their dark fringes.
'Am 1 aiming right ?' she said,
timidly, with uplifted mallet, on~e
tiny foot p)ressinlg the ball Ifeep
down into the grass.
Mr. Reede smiled.
'You could not have aimed more
correctly,' said he ; and Miss Alen,
who was watching them from the
back-ground, bit her lips and se
cretly regretted .her haste in call
ing Miss Lewis to the rescue.
'An artful, flirting little puss,'
thought she. But at this moment
Mrs. St. Jerome-a fine lady, with
a berouged countenance and a
costume like unto the French
plates in the magazines-called
out, tragically :
'It's the very one!'
'Dear me, Mrs. St. Jerome,' said
Clara, with a nervous start, 'what
can you mean by frightening one
out of one's wits ?'
'I have seen her at Mrs. Brown's,'
cried the fine lady. 'I knew her
countenance was familiar to me
I never yet was mistaken in a
fac-scouring the front dloorsteps
and s.veoping out the hall.'
'Whbo on earth do you mean ?'
cried Mrs. Alen half inclined to
believe her friend was going mad.
'I meaa her,' said Mrs. St. Je
rome, pointing straight at poor
blushing Rena with the handle of
her pearl-and-silver fan.
'She is not mi.stakcn,' said Rena,
with burning cheeks. '1-1 was
SMrs. Brown's servant-maid before
I came here.'
fMiss Alen recoiled from the con
ttact of Rena's fluttering scarf.
[Mrs. St. Jerome sank upon a gar
en.at with her smellingdlbottle
pressed to her nose. Mrs. Alen
drew herself up haughtily.
'You never told me this,' said
she. Rena's lips quivered, the
tears rushed to her eves.
'Was it any disgrace ?' said she.
'Of course you won't keep her,'
'Certainly not,' said Mrs. Alen,
'and I shall never foigive Mrs.
Brown for practicing such a de
ceit as this upon me.'
Little Rena dropped her mallet
on the grass and ran into the
house, scarcely waiting until she
had reached her own room, to
burst into the bitterest tears she
had ever shed.
'It is such a cruel world ;' she
sobbed; 'oh! why will people look
and speak so unkindly ? oh, I wish
that I were dead!'
She went back to Mrs. Brown,
who received her, figuratively
speaking, with open arms. 'If
people will be fools, my dear,' said
she, 'it's no fault of yours. You
shall stay with me until we can
hear of another situation.'
But the one circumstance of
all that troubled Rena most, and
which, frank though she was, she
could not confide to good Mrs.
Brown, was the certainty that
she should never see Harold Reede
more. In this, however, it chanced
that she was mistaken. She had
not been three days within the
shelter of her old home when Rev.
Mr. Reede was announced. Rena
came blushing down to see him.
'i-I thought you would avoid
me,' she faltered, 'after what hap
pened at the croquet ground.'
'Avoid you ?' repeated he. 'For
'what do you take me, Miss Lewis?
Stay a minute. Let me speak. I
have always admired you ; but
upon that afternoon I compre
hended my own heart. I knew
then that I loved you.'
And Rena, in the blissful con
fusion of her contending emotion,
knew not what answer to make.
'So,' said Mrs. Brown, shrewdly,
"we have no neced to look out fresh
situation, oh ? No situations like
that of a wife, Rena.'
And all the brightness of Mrs.
Harold iReede's life had its sup.
plying fouut from the croquet
ground, on Georgetown Heigh ts,
where Rena Lewis suffered that
NE WSPA PE RS.
Extracts from the Address of Whitelaw Reid
Before the New York State Press
This, then, I conceive to be the
next great revolution in journal-.
ism. We shall not have cheaper
newspapers. They are the cheap
est thing sold now, considering
the cost of making them. We shall
not have continually growing sup
plemeut upon supplement of adver
tising, individual wants will seek
mediums more suitable. Only gen
eral wants will seek the publicity
of great journals, and these will
be kept, by increasing cost, within
manageable compass. We shall
not have more news. The world
is ransacked for it now. Earth,
sea and air carry it to us from
every capital, from every people,
from every continent and from
very island. We shall not have
bigger newspapers ; they are big
ger now than a busy people can
read. We shall have better news
papers; the story better told; bet
ter brains employed in the telling ;
briefer papers dealing the more
important of current matters in
such style and with such fascina
tion that they w ,ill command the
wildest interest. There will be
more care and ability in selecting,
but of the myriad of~ things you
might tell, the things that the
better people want to be told, or
ought to be told. There will be
greater skill in putting these
things before them in the most
convenient and attractive shape.
Judgment in selecting the news ;
genius in telling it-that is t,he
goal for the highest journalistic
effort in the future. In making a
newspaper, the heaviest item of
expense used to be the white pa
pe. Now it is the news. By and
by, let us hope, it will be the
rTiE PRESS MORE POTENT THAN
Is the power of the press declin
ing? Every little while some
discontented clergyman or extinct
politician declares it is. Quite re.
cently they have given us very
solemn discourses about it. News
papers are more read, they admit,
but less heeded. With the air of
discoverers they tell us of the
past generation, and triumphantly
exclaim : 'But who minds now
what a newspaper says?' There
were giants in those days ; only
pigmies walk the earth to-day. In
the .arlier times the great news
papers stood for a great noise. It
has become selfish, it wants to
make money, it is on a commer
cial basis now, it actually supports
itself-how can such a press wield
the old influence? I wish to
epeak with due respect; but really
this sort of talk-and we hear a good
deal of it from unsuccessful quar
ters-seems to me the twaddle of
mushy sentimentalists. Far wiser
and matlier was the tone taken
by Lord Macaulay, in opening his
great history:. 'Those who com
pare the age on bich their lot
has fallen with a golden age which
exists only in their imagination,
may talk of degeneracy and decay;
but no man who is correctly in
formed ts to the past will be dis
posed to take a morose or despond
ing view of the present.'
It is easy to marshal the great
names of the past, and idle to try
to match them from the living.
We count no man great, anyway,
till he is dead. But great men do
not necessarily make the great
est newspapers. As well might
you challenge the London Times,
in the zenith of its influence, say
in 1855, to prove itself the equal
of the old Public Advertiser of the
century before, and crush it with
the taunt, 'Where have you a
man the equal of Junius ?'
it is not true that the ability of
the press is declining. The pa
pers of the country are better
written now than they ever were
before. Their average courtesy is
greater ; their average merality is
prer ; their average tendency
higher. They better hit the w ants
of great, miscellaneous commu
nities, and so they have more
readers in proportion to popula
tion. Their power may be more
diffused ; but it is unmistakably
greater. There has been no more
remarkable phenomenon in the
istory of the profession tban the
rapid growth of'the country press
aud its increase in abillity, in re
sources, in self-i-espect and in in
- LEADS ALL THE REsT.
No! The power of the newspa.
pCI- is not declining. Never be
forec was it so great. Never befor e
did it offer such a career. But it
is power accomplanied by the usual
conditions-greater when most
self-respectinLg and least self-seek
ing. There is more good, young
blood tending to this than to any
of the other professions. Thbere is
more movement in it than in bar,
or pulpit, or whatever other so~
called learned profession you will
-more growth, a larger oppor.
tunity, a greater future. 'We are
getting the best. These young
men will leave us far behind.
They will achieve a usefulness and
command a power to which we
cannot ,aspire. Vry crude and
narrow will seem our worthiest
work to the able editors of a quar
ter or a hglf century hence-very
splendid will bc the structure they
erect. We shall not rear the col
umns or carve the capitals for that
stately temple. Let us, at least,
aspire. with honest purpose and
on a wise plan, to lay aright its
All is hollow where the hear1
bears not a part, and all is peri
where principle is not the guide
When the purse is empty anc
the kitchen cold, then is the voict
of flattery no longer heard.
All the girls are becoming vege
tarians. They wear turn-up hats
Obedience -is nobler than fr-ee
Life and Incidents in That Flourishing Town.
Leadville letter to the iN. Y.
Jerald: The excitement of the
hour is th-, killiing of Jacob M.
Grier by F. M. Ritchie. Grier was
the barkeeper of the Merchants
restaurant. a man universally pop
ular. lie may still be remembered
by some at the east as the rail
way engineer who several years
ago, while hauling an express
train over the Pennsylvania road
at the rate of forty miles an hour,
saw a little girl on the track be
fore him, rapidly crawled upon
the cowcatcher and caught her in
time to save her life. F. M.
Ritchie. a barkeeper from Arkan
sas, had bought an interest in the
Merchants saloon, but had failed
to come to a final understanding
with Ellis, the proprietor, who
ordered him to be excluded from
the place. On Friday evening
Ritchie came to the saloon and
was prevented from going behind
the counter by Grier, who was in
charge. It was about eight o'
clock, and at that hour the broad
avenue on which the saloon stands
is full of men, partly miners re
turned from their prospect holes
and partly new comers just emp
tied from the stages. A crowd of
these were standing around the
door when the two men, Grier
and Ritchie, speaking loudly and
gesticulating, appeared on the
threshold. In Leadville a "diffi
culty" is pretty well understood,
and it is pretty well understood,too,
that it generally takes the form
of lead. So the crowd began to
scatter. In an instant shots were
heard-z- witnesses say two,
some three-and Grier's dead
body was seen qn the side-walk.
The physicians testify that he was
shot twice through the chest and
died in ten seconds. A jury was
summoned on the following day
and found a verdict of willful and
felonious murde.r against Ritchie,
and he will (probably ?) be dluly
tried. His defense is that Grier
struck him with his fist and then
fired at him in the street ; that he
only used his pistol in self-defense.
But Grier's popularity leaves him
few apologists in this town. Peo
ple are getting sick of all this bru
tality and violence and fraud and
debauchery of all kinds. It is on
ly the other (lay that a man was
shot dead for claiming a town lot,
and another, a mining contractor,
met the same fate from a laborer
who claimed to be paid off on
Wednesday instead of Saturday.
As to robberies. they are of daily
occurrence. Every night some lone
ly wayfarer is requested to "hold
up his hands" by two or three
bunkos with revolvers in close
proximity to his nose, and pun
ishment hardly ever follows the
offense. In the rare instances in
which arrests are made the bun
ko's confederates are always on
hand to prove an alibi. A local
newspaper desiring to glorify the
town states in a recent article that
"though it is scarcely two years
since the first building was put up
ere. it now contains-beer halls,
19 ; saloons, 120 ; gambling-houses,
118; houses of prostitution, 35.
This is a pretty showing, but the
line of argument by which it is
made to gratify any citizen's
pride is not easily followed. We
have imported our vices from the
west as well as the east. One~in
stitution-known as opium club
balls-has been borrowed from
Sarn Francisco. The main object
of the club is, of course, the smok
ing~ of o piurm. But the deleterious
charms of the drug arc heightened
by the presence of female society,
and the meetings of the club are
held in rooms closely shut up and*
heated to such an extent that
cloting is un bearable. Here scores
of creatures spend their days
and nights in semi-stupor, uncon
scious of everything but the
dreamy, sensuous languor which
DeQuincy so graphically describes.
.o policeman can enter there,
unless, indeed, he desires member
ship in the club and has money
enough to pay his share of the
ost. But public rumor is much
at fault if on the list of members
you could not find some of the
liadin- merchants. lawyers and.
Advertisements inserted at the rate of
L1.00 per square (one inch) for first insertion
Ui(d 75 cents for each subsequent insertin;.
ouhle column advertisements ten per cent.
Notices of meetings, obituaries and tributes
)f respect, same rates per square as ordinaiy
Special Notices in Local column 15 cents
Advertist-ments not marked with the num
>er of insertions will he kept in till forbid,
td ebarged accordingly.
Specizl contracts nade with birge ndvei
:isers, with i beral -!eiiuetions on above rates,
JOB PR I.VTIlOG
D)ONE lITH1 NEATNESS AND DISPATCH
mine-owners. Life is very hard
here. The climate is exceedingly
tryin(; it snows every month in
the year. Few men have their
wives with them. Hence the in
ordinate number and vast variety
of resorts devoted to what is called
BE SURE TO TAKE A PAPER.
The following from the Lexing
ton Dispatch may be a !;tle over
drawn, but it is not very %ide of
the true mark :
MESSRS. EDIToRS--Very recently
I called on a good farmer, when
the following conversation en
'I am mighty glad you have
come, I want to bear the news;
I know you always have it-you
read the papers.'
'Well, I know nothing of much
interest. I believe the exodus of
the negroes has created some lit
'The exodus of the niggers!
Does it kill many of them? Is it
as bad as the yellow fever, or is it
'Oh, no. It is considerable num.
be moving to Kansas.'
'Ah, that is to Liberia, away
across the ocean ; they say they
die very fast there.'
'No; Kansas is one of -h
'A b, it joins Maine.'
'No, it is a Western State ; Maine
'How far is it ? Do you have to0
cross any big waters to go there ?'
'Nothing larger than the -Mis
sissippi. It is not a thousand miles
from where they are emigrating.'
'Have to cross the Massassippy !
Does. that country over there be
long to us?'
'Oh yes, as far as the Pacific
'Goodness! We must own most
all the world. What a great bles-- '
ing to know all these things.' N..
'Read the newspapers.' The int
migration of the negroes is a small*
item of news. You ought to take
'I would, but I am too poor.'
Now, reader, when we sat down
to dinner, after faring sumptuous
ly, we left enough on the table-to
pay for a paper, and yet, this fam.
ily would sacrifice the luxury of
reading a newspaper.
1 know numbers, the sdper
fuities of a single Sunday dress,
of any one of whose family would
pay, for a paper. Numbers of
men pay more i.n a year for whis-'
key than would -pay for half a
dozen papers. I do not mean
drunkards. I heard a reliable man
recently say, he knew some of his
church brothers who pay twenty
dollars a year for wvhiskey. and
claim to be too poor to take their
Editoi's and newspapers are
auxiliaries in the good work of in
telligence. Every man in the coun
ty is a much heavier sufferer thtan
he conceives, if he does not read
his county paper.
S. M. S.
T wo VoxCEs-"Thbe s weetest
voice I ever heard," said Bishop,
"was a woman's. It was soft and
low, but penetrating ; musical and
measured in its accents, but not
precis.e. We were on a steamer,
and she murmured some common
place about the scenery. Ido not
remember what she said, but I.
can never forget the exquisitely
tender, musical voice." "The
sweetest voice I ever heard," re
plied the professor, "was a man's.
I had been out fishing nearly all
day, and got back to the hotel
about three o'clock. The muan
came out on the front stoep,
opened his mouth like a sea-cav
ern, and roared 'DIN-NU.R!! !' till
it soured the milk in the cellar. I
ave heard other voices since-"
I 1f.(%17 ~