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TIWELEDTO-WINNSBORO, S. 0., OCTOBER 14, 1880. VOL. IY.-NO. 124.
XT OLD FRIEND,
You've a manner all so mellow.
My old friend,
That it ohoors and warms a follow,
My old friend,
Just to meet and greet vou, and
Fool the pressure of a hand
That one may understand,
My old friend!
Though dimmed in youthful splendor,
My old friend,
Your smiles are still as tender,
My old friend;
And your eyes as true a blue
As your childhood ever knew,
And your laugh as merry, too,
My old friend.
For though your hair is faded,
My old friend,
For your body bent and jaded,
My old friend,
.Old Time, with all his lures
In the trophies he secures,
Leaves young that heart of yours,
My old friend.
And so it is you cheer me,
My old friend ;
And to know you still so near me.
My old friend,
Makes my hopes of clearer light,
And my faith of surer sight,
And my soul a purer white,
My old friend.
"Who is living in Swan's house f I se
it is occupied," said Mr. Tartuffe to hi
"A Mr. Ernest Simpson, and his wif
and mother. He is just married, I believe,
was the reply.
"Strange," he muttered, "that I shouh
come home to find them here, or all place
in the world. I knew this morning tha
Slie young follow mu-t be in sonic wa3
connected with Ernest Simpsop. The like
ness is unmistakable. There comes a wo
man now. I wonder if it can be his moth
A large woman with.a fresh-colored fac
and with a bundle on her arm entered thi
gate and hurried ip the walk with the ali
of one very much at home.
"Yes, it must be she; yet who coulk
have believed that Sophie Marlyn wouh
become such a great, blowsy creature
Twenty-five years work great changes"
The fact was, it was Mrs, Sinipson'
dsess; but how was Mr Tartuffe to knov
that? For five years lie had been travel
ing after a fashion of his own. Five year
had wrought great changes. Of his oh
friends and associates sonic were (lead
others moved away, and the rest were a<
immersed in business, so interested in thei
own particular pursuits,that they had littl
time or thought to spare for him.
-'Tis like coming back from the dead t<
find one's place filled and one's self forgot
ten," lie said sadly. And now to all th
rest was added the unewelcoie discover3
that the wife and son of Ernest Simpson
the man who had done him a cruel wron
and marred his life, were living next doo
to him. Somic time lie stood at the windo
drumming softly upon the pane anti look
mug idly out; suddenly his face lighte
"That's an idea; I'll do it. Forsyth wil
jump at the chance, I've no doubt."
Whatever the idea was, he inimediatel'
proceeded to put it into execution. A fev
iinues later he left the house and took h
way down town.
"Why, good moring, Tartuffe. Glad ti
see you; sit down; I'd be at leisure in a fem
When the busy lawyer was at last abl
te pay some attention to his visitors, Mr
Tartuffe began without preliminary
"Forsyth, I have been thinking over wha
yen said yesterday, a d have a propositio
to make. Suppose we make an exchange.
"Make an exchange ?" repeated the puz
"Yes; you can take my house and I taki
yours, for a year. Your family are dlesir
ouis of coming to town, and I want to leav<
It. Take the house as they stand. It wil
tave the bother of my nioving."
."Well," mused Mr. Forsyth, ''that's ai
idlea, certainhy,and it strikes me favorably
but I must consult my wifes first, of conic
Why da you wish to leave town, though ?
you ye just got here. You ought to ge
married, and settle down quietly."
"Get married!" repeated the other, with
an expression of scorn; "what wvomai
would L~ave an old man like me, except fo
"Old man, indeedl" exclaimed Mr. For
syth: "why, you're just in the prinie o
life, and theire isn't a youing man in th<
city who can boast a n:ore splendid phys
Ique. Blesides,yout need not marry a school
girl, you know. I know just thme woma1
for you, about your own age, a widow
with one son."
"The idea of my marrying a widlow I'
ejaculated Mr. Tartuile in silent wrath a
lie took his way homeward.
As lie ascended the steps, the red-face
dressmaker seated by the window In Mrs
Simpson's room, exclaimed: "There goei
"What did you say his name was ?" sail
Mrs. Simpson rather eagerly.
"Simon 'ar'uffe. lie's a rich old bach
You had better set your cap at him. Bum
l'm afraid 'twouildn't do no goodl, for the;
do say lie's a woman-hater."
Mrs. Simpson made no reply,but resumel
her work with a thoughtful face.
"Moti or, here is a letter f or you," cabd
Ernest's wife, enter.ng the room. -Mr's
Simpson read the few lines it cont ained an<
then said: Aunt Elizabeth is ill; an attac1
similar to the one she had three years ago
and. she wants nie to coime and stay wil
"Oh, dear. how sorry I am I" exclaime:
Jennie, "I don't know what we shall d
One afternoon, a fornighit later, Mr. Tar
tuffe alighted from the train at Brierdal
station, and without stopping, took hi
way up the village street to his new home
For the next few day lie fairly lived out o
doors, exploring the country for mile
round, walking, driving, ishing and boat
ing. One afternoon, toward sunset, as hi
lay stretched at full length under a tree a
the brink of the river, the sound of oar
attracted his attention, and looking uip h
saw a small boat coming rapidly towar<
him, it was propelled by two ladies, onm
of them evidently a young girl yet in lhe
teeuns; the other, a splendidly develope
and still very handsome woman.
"Trhere comes Bob in his wherry, consi
Lizzle; let's have a race I" exclaiied the
younger of the two.
Mr. Tartuffe raised hiself upon hi el
bow as he caught sight of it.
"Strangel" he muttered, "but I could
swear I had seen that face before sone
where or some tinie;yet it is like a dream."
Mr. Tartuffe rose and walked homeward.
"That's the sort of a woman I thought
Sophie would make, and. In fact, there is
something in her face that reminds me very
much of her."
The next bunday Mr. Tartuffe went to
church and occupied t'ie Forsyth. pew. In
front of him were three ladies and two
geintlemen. Two of the ladies were young
and pretty, and in one them lie recognized
the Katie of the boat. The third was elder
ly, and as plainly the mother of the two.
"And that must be Bob and the father,"
said Mr. Tartuffe to himself; "and now
where Is cousin Lizzie?' The que3tlon
was ,o sooner asked than It was answered
by the appearance of that lady. She en
tored a new just across the aisle and oppo
site to the family party that Mr. Tartuffe
had been so closely observing. He studied
the sweet face and the costume, so simple
in its appointments, yet perfect in taste.
At the close of the service the gentlemen
whom Mr. Tartuffe had taken to be the
paterfamilias came up and introduced him
self as a neighbor and old friend of the
"I do not know whether you have ever
heard Forsyth speak of Emory Taylor."
"Indeed I have, and in the highest
terms," responded Mr. Tartuffe, cordially
shaking the proffered hand. "I am exceed
ingly happy to make your acquaintance."
"I must make you acquainted with my
family," Mr. Taylor said, as h-s wife and
children joined him, and then followed an
Introduction to the different members.
"Where is Cousin Lizzier" 'asked Mr.
Taylor, looking around.
"She was in haste to get home, for fear
her aunt might need her; there she goes
3 now," poiting up the street, where a
- stately figure was fast disappearing from
"Our roads lie in the same direction;may
I have the pleasure of accompanying you?"
saidi Mr. Tartuffe to Katie.
"If you will make yourself very agree
able,and not expect to be entertained in re.
turn," she said, flashing a saucy glance at
A fortnight ago Mr. Tartuffe would have
I considered the whole thing an unmitigated
bore, but the last few days had wrought a
wondrful change in him. He exerted him
self to be entertaining, and succeeded ad
mirably. When they reached the gate,
"And now for your reward. Do you like
"I have always detested it hitherto," lie
said coolly, "but with you for a partner, I
do not doubt I shal soon become a com
plete votary of it."
"Very pretty, but you cannot impose
upon me with your gallant speeches. How
ever, I am to have a small croquet party
to-morrow aftei noon,and wish ynu to make
one of the number. Cousin Lizzie Simpson
shall.be your opponent, and, I assure you,
you will find her 'a foeman worthy oi your
steel.' She is the lady who'sat opposite to
us in church.
"Yes, I saw her with you in a boat the
oth er afternoon," lie said, quietly.
The croquet parry was a success, and
Mr. Tartuffe proved no despicable player
"That was a very close game; Ccusin
Lizzle, you must look or you will lose your
laureis. Another stroke would have fiu
Islhed you," exclaimed Bob.
"I should count it no dishonor to be
beaten by such a foe," she answered,
Here tea was announced, and the guests
turned their tootsteps toward the house.
Mr. Tartuffe found himsetf walking along
with Katie and her cousn Lizzie.
"Miss Simpson, do you excel in every'
thing you undertake?" he beganm.
"Why, no, certainly not," she said,
opening her eyes in surp~rise.
Here Katie glided away from them to
the rest of the party.
Hush Katie!" she said, softly, laying
her fhigers on her hip. "lHe thinks Cousin
Lizzie is unnmarriedl; dlon't you enlighten
him for your lives."
"But do you think it qjuit~e right ?" re
nmonstrated Katie's ahster, Greta.
"Of course It is, so long as her husband
One bright afternoon,some months later,
Lizzie Siupson stood by time window in her
room looking out with a troubled face. "It
has gone on too long already. I must
tell imi thme truth and take the conscquences
Just t.hen a carriage rolled up to the front
of the house, and Mr. TartuYe alightedl.
Hastily tying a veil over her face, Mrs.
3Simpson wenit (down to'me~et hin. It wvas
with a very lower-like air that lie assisted
her into time carriage, and his manner
causedh her to shrink with a premonition
of what, was coming. A little anie crept
Into the corners of his niouth, and at
length, layinmg his hand upon hers, lie said,
tquietly, "it is of no use, I ami not to be
diverted from my purpose, Lizzie; I love
you with a love which I believed nothing
couldl create in imy heart again. I want you.
Will you comne "
She trembled like a leaf, and for a mo
mont strove to speak in vain; then she said:
"Mr. Tartuffe, I have a confession to make
which may alter your feelings towards me.
I have been a widow for fifteen years."
HeI looked at her kindly for a moment;
she resumced hurriedly:
"I thought you know, of course, at first,,
andl then It grew rat her hard for me to toll
Iyou; andl I kept hoping you would Ilnd out
your mislake. Indeced, I had not the
Ishlihet Intention of deceiving you."
lie smiled and~ dIrew her closely to him
"Is that all ?"
''lo ; it is only thme smallest part of m'y
confession, 8imon," she cried vehmently;
I'se it possible that 3 Oiu have neover recognized
"Sophie I" lie exclahuied. "Ernest
Simpson's wife!" Is face was pale, but
h le only tightened lis clasp,whmile lie looked
i nto her eyes as If ho woui read her very
She continuea, with choked voice:
"For ten years I believed you false and
treacherous, It was not until he lay on his
d (ying bed that lie confessed thme truth to
tme, and I kniew how cruelly you had been
3"I absolved you from all blame years
Iago. As soon as I heard of Ernest's mar
3riage the truth Ilashed across me at once
'that he loved you himself, and had been
Ithe sole cause of our estrangement. 1 cuitsed
myself for a blind fool when I realiz~ed that
I had been but an uinsuspeting tool In his
hat: ds. Can you wouder that I had hated
him. and with a bitterness that--"
"tenemoer that he is dead, and that he
was but hunian after all," she interrup
ted. " Let the dead past bury its dead."
le bowed his head silently, and, after
a pause, with a rther mischlievous look, he
said: "Do yon know why I left the city
and came to Brierdale ?"
"No," she replied, wonderingly.
"I was running away fron you. But
you have not answered my question yet; Is
this Mrs.Tartuffe that I hold in my arms?"
suiting the action to the words, and drop
ping the reins as he (lid so. Fortunately
the horse was well trained.
"If you wish it." was the *low reply.
When the rare June days came with
their rose-scuted breath and dazzling skies,
Mr. 'artuffe took his bride home. Together
they stood at night upon the verandah and
watched the moon as it rose, flooding the
whole earth with its silver.
"What can be more beautiful on earth V'
Lizzie said softly.
"Are you satisfied with your home-our
home?" lie asked, looking town upon her
"Perfcctly ; and you ?"
"I came to Brierdale, anticipating one
.happy year, instead of which I have ob
tained blims for a lifetime."
Vineyards In switzrlaund.
Did you ever see then build vineyards
in Switzerland? The operation is a curious
one, and would, we fancy, make an Illinois
farmer open his eyes. We had for some
time been amused by watching the medus
operandi from a window, well knowing
that we could never see anything of the
kind again. The locality was originally
the slope of a ravine, through which a vi
vacious little torrent leaps fron the moun
tains: and is, even now, so steep that we
looked apprehensively to see the adventur
ous workmen tumbleoff. When we saw the
men clearing away the debris of years, and
inaugurate the undertaking by a new line
of stone wall alongside the frisky little
stream, we could not imagnie their object,
The next step was a series of these same
walls, built at right angles with the firt,
and finally, one parallel with it, which also
served as a defence against the publi -,
being built close against the roadside. By
this time the affair presented the aplpear
aince of a new work of stone, forming an
acute inclined plane. After several weeks
of steady work-these people never hurry
-our curiosity had reached its highest
pitch, and wb were divided between two
ideas-the one being that of a playground
for the neighboring school-boys, ant the
other that. it was the foundation of a new
marine pension-when one morning our
attention was attracted to a squad of men,
each carrying a panier of earth on his
back, who were slowly approaching the
scene of action. The mystery was solved,
and this was the way they built vineyards
In Buissel Day after day, and week after
week, did this apparently hopeless task
continue. To judge by the long intervals
between the arrivals, the soil must have
been brougnt from a great distance but at
length the task was finished and the walls
were quite covered. They are intended for
keeping the prospective vineyards from
sliding down into the ravine; and now it
only remained to grade it. This delicate
operation was completed by men who laid
flat against the stee) face of this novel ar
rangement, and smoothed and graded it
their leisure, afterward planting the vine
slips in the same calin and equable manner,
under circumstances which others would
New aid Stale Bread.
The nature of the difference between new
and stale bread is far from being known.
It is only lately that the celebrated French
ch. nist, Boussingault, instituted an in
quiry into It, from whicui it results that the
difference is not the consequence of dessi
cation, but solely of the cooling of the
breadl. If we take fresh bread into tile cel
lar or in any place where It cannot dry, the
imner part of the loaf, is truie, is found to
he criumbly, but tile crust is no longem brit
tie, if stale bread is taken Into the oven
again It assumes all the qualities of fresh
baked bread, although in the hot ovet, it
mulst undoubteoly have lost part of Its
mnois'tiure. MI. Boussingault, has madle a
fresh loaf of bread the subject, of minute
livestigation, andi tile results are anything
but uninterestIng. New bread, in its
smallest p~arts, is so soft, clammy
my, flexible and glutinous, (in consequence
of the starch (luring the process of ferment
ing and baking boing changed into mulcila
ginous dextrine) that by mastication it Is
with greater dif leculty separatedl and reduced
to smallest p~arts is less uander the influence
of the saliva and digestive juices. It coin
sequlently forms itself mnto hard balls by
careless and hasty mastication and (leg
luitition, becomes coated over by saliva and
slime, andI in tIs state enters tihe stomach.
The gastric juice being uable to penetrate
such hard masses, and being scarcely able
even to act uponi the surface of them, they
frequently remain in the stomach un
changed, andI, like foreign bodies, irritate
and incommode it, inducing every species
of suffering-oppression of thme stonmach,
pain ini chest, disaturbed circulation of the
blood.. congestions and p~ains in tihe head
irritation of the brain, andi inflaimmnation,
ap~oplep~tic attacks, cramp and delirium
The flagdad Date Mark.
Bagdad is notedi for a curious and~ mys
ieriouis malady, which affects everybotry In
the city, whether 110 be a ciriAen or a stra"
gei. It is a sore called a "date mark," bec
cause after It has healedI I- leaves an ndeli
ble mark about tile size andl shiaple of a date.
ft generally makes its aptpearace upon01 the
face, lasts a year and~ then disappears.
The check of neamly every man and woman
in Bagdad shows the inevitable nmark.
Sometines it settles upon the nose and
then the disfigurement us great, sometinies
on the eyelid whein blindness is the result.
Strangers are atacked even after a brief
residence; but forunately, if they are adults
the sore is more apt to come on the arm.
In every case tihe attack runs its course for
one year. No treatment, no ointment, nor
medicine has the alightest effect upon it.
Ounce the sore appearing the sufferer knows
what to expect, and may as wvell resign
himself to his fate. The Arabs say that
every one that goes to Bagdlad imist, get,
the "date mark" or if lie does not get, it
while in the city, lie will be followed by
ite-have It sooner or later, he must, Dr.
Thomn, of tile American Mission, states
that lhe has examined the ulcer microscopi
cally, and fcuind it to be composed of a
fungold growth; hut nothing that lie hand
ever' tried hiad nroved reamdhunt
Lessons in Wooderart.
1. Notes of the barred owl and loon in
dicate rain within twelve hours. In the
fall wet weather follows the cry of the
2. Bark grows thickest on the north side
of trees. Girdle a tree if you wish to tell
which is north.
3. The center of rotten stumops affords
dry stuff for kindling fire in drenching
4. A torch which will last many hours
Is made from half-inch strips of cedar bark
bound together in faggota two feet long or
5. To hold a boat in a swift current, set
the pole, oar or paddle oi the botton at an
oblique angle with the side of the boat
resting against it. Very little strength
will be required.
U. To mend a birch canoe cut a patch
of bark large enough to cover the fracture;
sew it on with an awl and stout cord of
hemlock roots; then apply a piece of
natural spruce gum to the seans or joints
with a glowi ig brand used its a soldering
iron Is used.
7. To carry a fish of two pounds weight
and upward, place it between hemlock
boughs of the proper length, tied together
at both ends and in the middle, with bark,
roots, or cord. It will keep fresh and
sweet a long time, is easily cured, and will
not soil what it touches.
8. To mend a broken oar or paddle,
bevel the fractured parts so as to make a
neat joint, pass a wooden plug through
both, and serve neatli with tiwine to cover
the joint. Or, having niade a joint, as
above, bore two gilet holes two inches
apart ; double four feet of wire so that the
ends'will pass through the holes in the same
direction ; then whip or serve neatly with
the w ire, and finish with a service of
9. For night shootinr, chalk the gun
harrels lengthwise from breech to muzzle;
or, make a foresight by lashing a V shaped
stick to the muzzle. By bringing the object
within the V. a good bead caii be drawn.
10. When a tree brushes off wisps of
hay from a load, the hay falls on that side
of the tree toward which the cart is going.
In summer hay is carted from the field to
the barn, unless stacked when cut. In
winter it is carted out from the barn to
stock employed in cutting logs, wood, etc.
Balt oi wild hay is most generally stacked.
It can be distinguished from field hay by
the taste and smell.
11. An excellent moccasin, nearly
watel proof, is n.ade front the lund leg of a
moose, cut above and below the hock, the
hock forming the heel. It is wholly with
out scam, except where sewed up at the
toe. If tanned with the hair on it, it is
very warm when worn in dry enow.
12. A table is easily constructed by
taking a turn with a rope amniid each
trunk of three or more trees or saplings
conveniently near together; haul taut,
maike fast, and lay boards on top.
Eighty of the Popes are saints, thirty
one martyrs aad forty-three confessors.
St. Agatho, was the only Pope who lived
to be a ceatennarian, as lie is also the only
one, after St. Peter, who may be honored
with the title of miracle worker, St.
Agatho (lied at the age of 107 years, in
082, having resigned three years six mont hs
and fifteen days. Gregory IX. (ied at the
age of 98 years. Celestine III. and Gre
gory XlI., (lied at the age of' 92:
John XXII. at the age of 110; Clem
ent XII. at the age or 88 years, and Clement
X and Pins IX, at the age of 86.
The Popes have been drawn from all
classes of society. Nineteen were sons of
near relatives of princes; an equal number
caine from illustrious families. Many
were nobles in rank, or of great wealth.
Others sprang from obscurity. Sixtus VI.
was the son of a flsherman, Alexander V.
was the son of poor, unknown parents, and
passed his first year in begging from door
to door. Adrian IV., the only English
Pope, was abanidonied by his father and had
to aubsist on charity, until going to France,
he entered a convenit ais a servant, where,
b~y his ielligence and is virtues, he was
afterward dleimed worthy to be recei vedl
into religion. Sixtus V. had for his father
a poor laborer, for mother, a servant, and
for a sister, a laundress. St. Celestine V.
wvas the son of a simplle farmer. Benedict
XII. was the child of a baker. Urban lV.
had1( a carpenter for a father, as also had
Five of the Popes had studied medicine
before taking the holy orders. Benedict,
XI. was the child of a notary. Julius III.
was the descendant of a famous juriscon
sult. Pelagius I. was the son of a vicar
of the prefect of lis province Paul V.
had for his father a pa'rician of Bienna,
and Eugene IV., Gregory XII. and Alex
ander Vil, belonged to pantrician families
With~out Furter Objection.
A man with a grip sack in lis hand
halted before a Jefferson aveume fruit
standtc, Detroit, and priced a choice variety
of peaches. When told that they were
twenty cents a dozen, he whistled to him
self, walked softly aroundI, and( finally
"Ate you a Biaptist?"
"Neither am J. I dlid'nt know b~ut tht
if we both belongedi to the same dlenomiina
tion you'dl throw off a little. Do you lean
to the Methodists?"
"Can't say that 1 (do."
"That's may case. I never did( take
much stock in thme MethodIsts. Twenty
cenits a diozen is an awful price for those
p~eachtes, considering how tight money is.
I expect you are a Universalist,, li?"
"Neither am I. Can't you say fifteen
cents for a diozen of these ?"
"Aren't you an Episcopalain ?"
"Neither sim I, butt I was afraid you
were. I've been sort o' looking you over,
and( 1 shouldn't wonder if you trained with
the United B~re;hren. Conie, now, own
"I never attend~ that churchi," was the
"Nor I, either. May, what are you any
"I'm a hard baked old sinner."
"iNolt Whoop I That's my case to a (lot I
I sin called the wickedest man in Washte
naw County I I 'tnew there was a bond of
sympathy between us if we could only find
it out I Now, do you say fifteen cents for
a dozen ?"
The fruit dealer counted themn 'Nut with
01,1 futher ohjection.
The Fatal Enicounter.
It was toward the end of April, a seiason
whose arrival the dillttanti in Paris always
witness with dismay, for then the first ar
tists and cantratices of the metropolis leave
to reap a golden harvest in the provincial
towns. The avenue leading to the theatre
of Pergola was crowded with a long file of
brilliant equipages. A considerable crowd,
which had not been able to find places
within the house, already filled by the
wealthy and privileged classes, vented
their indignation in loud words near the
principal entrance. A riot even was ex
pected, so much dissatisfaction was there
manifested In the language and gestures of
the multitude. But fortunately, the in.
flammable crowd was at last pacified.
Madame P. was to appear that night in
the opera of Norma for the last time. The
audience that assembled to greet her on the
occasion was composed of the clite of Flor
ent ne society. Never was a more bril
limt dress circle to be seen. in one of
the side boxes sat the young Count Bach
croni and his friends. This nobleman,
well known for his liberal principles, was
regarded as oiu of the chiefs of the repub
lican party of Florence and Italy. Indeed,
whether from motives of ambition cr dis.
interestidness, the Count had always been
found arrayed in opposition to the ancient
nobility of Tuscny, and had always shown
himself an ardent and prompt defender of
the menaced liberties of the peoplie. The
people, who are never ungrateful when a
man devotes himself to the Interests of the
country, seeing in hiiu an intrepid protector,
cherished for him a kind of worship ap
proacning the reverence of a son for his
father. Although gifted with a good edu
cation and a rare intelligence, the Count
partook of the opinions of the vulgar with
regard to stage-players, and was imbued
with the same prejudices. In this view an
actress was entitled to no respec, and a
singer was of less consideration than the
lowest of the populace.
Ensnared by the graces and beauty of
Madaine P., lie had made that celebrated
vocalist offers, the most muniiiceit and
brilliant, but they were met with contin.
ned repulses. hie evening of the depar
ture of the actress was arrived, and the
Count was no further advanced in her good
graces. Irritated by her indifference, and
inflamed with anger, lie entered the theatre
with the fixed intention of bantering the re
b. lious cantatrice into compliance with his
Madame P. was i the midLst of a scene
with the tenor singer Zorelli, who person
ated the part of "Palcone," when the
Count, from his position near the stage,
hazarded some pieasantries at first gay amt
satirical, then gross and injurious, while
his friends applauded andt laughed at lis
sallies. Zorelli approached near the box
of the Count and listened attentively. 80
absorbed did lie become that lie lost his
cue and forgot. his part, while Bacheroni,
perceiving that he watched him began to
his'. In this lie showed himself less in
dulgent than any of the audience, who had
pardoned the actor his momentary distrac
tion. Zorelli leveled an angry glance at
the Count and resumed his part. Bacher
oni continued his annoying remarks until
lie fall of the curtain.
They were yet laughing in the box of the
Count, when the door opened andit a man
appeared upon the threshold. It was the
singer Zorelli. His face was pale and his
brow contractet with emotion.
"Sir Count," he said, advancing, "you
have traducci and injured a female when
she was without protection against your in
sults, and who had given you no cause ex
cept the rejection of your dishonorable pro
posals. That female I regard as a sister.
I am the only protector she has in the
world, and I come to demand satisfaction
from you for the i% rong you have done
''Faith, y'ou arc not over fastidious ini
your selection,'' replied the Count, with a
phlegmatic air, and with lisa hand wavedl
Zoreill away, as beneath lis notice:
"'If, in order to contend wvith you, sir, it
is necessary that I should bec of noble
birth, I will prove that my family is of a
rank equal, if not superior to your own;
but in the first, place, swecar that you will
render mae satisf action,"
"You nobtel" interrupted Bachieronm,
"away, away? What would he thought of
me, were I to cross swords with a stroller
The Count. was stopped in thme miidst af
his remarks by a blow from the hand of
Bacheroni rushed~ towvardl his adversary,
butt his friends lntercepted hiim andt held
him back; The actor remialined standing
necar tihe door, with his arms folded upon
lia breast. The Co0unt, having beeii calm
edl downi, approachied him, and said in a
whisper, "I consent."
"Name your place, hour andi weapon,"
"At the Ban-Gallo gate at muidniighit,
with swords; they will make less distuir
bance than fire-arms--the light of the moon
will be enough--there muist be no witness
"Agreed," said Zorelh, and lhe went to
resunme his l'art in the opera. ie sang
til the close without manifesting the
slightest alteration in ia voice, and with
out betraying the least emotion. Madame
P. having evince:l sorme curiosity as to the
causie of his absence, he quieted her' ap
prehiensins by the coolness and self-pos
session of his manner.
The Count retired from his box shortly
after the encounter with Zorelli and did
not re-appeer there the rest of the eveui
In interrogating his conscience Zorelli sat
tisfied himself that lie had acted as b~ecamne
him towardl lia adlversary. le hadl owedl
such a debt of gratitude to the nob~le can
tatrice, that, lie would have proved himself
a recreant and an ingrate if Ibe had suffered
lier to be0 outragedl with impunity. Born
of a noble family of Trieste, Zorelli had,
from his youth maniifested a remarkable
talent for music, and his father had p or
miittedl himi to pursue lia favorite Studly,
under any circumtnces so natural In
Italy, without forsecinig how far It would
At an age when the imagination of a
younmg meni is easily Inflamed and responds
readily to the beautiful, lie heard Madiaine
P., and from that time resolved to dlevote
himself to the theatre. Glifted with a
sonorous voice, andl of elegant manners,
he easily obtained an engagement and his
debuts were highly successful. More
lately lis talent displayed itself with such
brilliant eclut that he found himself ap
plauded by the side of the most admirable
songstressof ialy. It was to thme well-direct
ed lessons of Madame P. that lhe had vowed
a gratitude without bounds.
At midnight Zorelli enveloped himself
in his cloak, took a sword under his arm,
and directed hit stops toward the spot do
signated by the Count. The moon shone
sutliciently bright for the distinguishing of
surrounding objects. On reaching the
ground he perceived a man pacing slowly
to and fro, his head reclined upon his
breast. lie approached him. It was the
"Sir Count," said Zorelli, "consent to
retract your abusive remarks to-morrow in
the presence of witnesses and all will be
"On guard!" exclalined Bacheronl, lev
eling his sword.
As these words were pronounced, Zorelli
saw issue from the shade, two men whom he
had not before remarked. At the same
instant he mortally wounded the Count,
who fell, exclaimig: "In the name of
heaven, do not kill him. I slandered
But, the poniard of the assassins had
already transfixed the ill-fated Zoreill. The
sword dropped from his hand, his knees
gave way beneath him, and he fell by the
side of his late adversary.
"Pierced to the heart!" said one of the
men, as he examined the wounds of Zorelli.
"lie will not. revive. And his excellency
breathes no more!"
Tihe assassins who were none otner than
two domestics of the Count, took away the
body of their mnaster, and left that of Zo
The same night Italian liberty had lost
her strongest defender, her most devoted
chamnpion, music her most worthy and
skillful interpreter. The next morning the
populace, among whom the servants of
the Count had spread the report that their
master had been asassinated by 'orelli,
rushed upon the unburied remains of the
actor and tore them into fragments.
Thw Aetrient MP11ain Mn1mutri.
Sonic I hue ago, a number of men eligaged
in iron nining about three miles froin Dry
Branch, a station on the St. Louis and
Sante Fe Railroad. At a depth of eighteen
ier below the surface the miners uncover.
ed it lutnan skull, with portions of the
ribs, vertebral column, and collar bone.
With them were found two flint, arrow
Ieads of the most priniitive type, iinper
feet in shape and barbed. A few pieces of
charcoal were also found at the same time
and place. Dr. Booth was fully aware of
the importance of the discovery and tried to
preserve everything found, but upon touch
ing tWe skull it crimbled to dust, and sonic
of the other Ionles broke into siall pieces
and partly crumbled away, but enough was
preserved to fully establish tile fact that
they are humian bones. Sone fifteen or
twenty days subsequent to the first Iindcling,
at a depth of twenty.four feet below the
surface, other bones were found-a
thigh bone and a portion of the vertebra.
and several pieces of charred wood, the
bones apparently belonging to the firat
found skeleton. In both cases the bones
rested on a fibrous stratum, suspected at,
time to be a fragment of coarse matting.
This lay upon i floor of soft, but solid iron
ore, which retained the imlrint of the 11
bers. Overlying the last found bonies was
a stratumt of what ip)eared to be loan or
hod front two and it ai:lf to thiree inches
thick, below which was a deposit of soft
red hemat itu, iron ore, lying upon two large
bowlders of hard ore staining onl edge
standing at an angle of about -l> degrees,
the tipper ends leaning against each other,
thus forning a considerable cavity, which
wits filled with blue specular and hard red
ore and cay, lying upon it floor of solid
red hematite. It was in this cavity, that
the bones, imatting, and charred wood were
found, intermixed with ore. The ini
cations are that the filled cavity had origi
nally been a sort of cive, and tliit the sup
posed~ imattinig wits more probablly a layer
of twigs, rushes or weeds, which the in
habitatnts of thie cave hlad used as at bed, as
the fiber marks cross each other irregumlarhy.
T1he ore betd in which the remains were
found, antd part otf which seems to have
formed atfter the period of hiuman occuipa
tion of the cave, lies in the secondt (or sace
charoidal) sandcstone of the Lower Si lurhan.
There was a little shooting scrape at a
little town in the interior of Tlexas unot long
ago, and it, wits not long before a reporter
wias on the spot interviewing one of the
''So you are going to write it uip,'' said
"hse, I want the facts.''
"1 don't care a cenit what you saty about,
the shooting, but I have one little favor to
Tlhe reporter said he woultd grant it
cheerfully if tecould
"Well said the shootiat, "'J want you to
put down that my grandfathur wias one of
pilrates Lafitte's, anid the worst cutthroat of
Th'le reporter statredl a little, but the
shootist went on to bay:
"PIlease plut in that one of amy tncies
was hung by the Vigilance Committee in
San Francisco, andc two more of thenm are
making shios in the Illinois penitentiary:
that another one of them is practicing law
in New York, andi miy only sister ran away
from home with the clown of a circus; that
as far as you can learni, there is not a mom
ber ot the family that, has not done some
"hwhat (do you want all that in the
"'Becatuso I am sick of readilng in the pa
pers that every fellow who has a little
shooting scrape belongs to one of the most
respectable families in the country. .Just,
put, it down, for once, that one of the
parties to tihe unfortunate auffair belongs to
a highly~dmsreputatble family. If yot dion't
pnt it that way, yotu wIll wish yout had.''
A comlpanmy with a capital of $1,000,000
is being organized at Oincinnitti to supply
steam for heating purposes to that city at
an estimate cost, to consumers of 20 to 80
per cent. less than they ,now have to pay
for their own fires. The company propose
to erect twelve immense steam boilers on
the bank of a river, and to run pipes from
them under all the principal streeots. Each
house desiring a supply of steam for heat
ing anti cooking purposes will secure it by
making connection with the street main;
this will give it connection with the steam
reservoirs and supply it with all the heat
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
No books are so legible as the lives
of' men; no character so plain as their
h'lat writer does the most who gives
his reader the most knowledge and
takes from him the least tinie.
An author usually has two charac.
ters-the one belonging to his Imagin
ation, the other to iis experience.
A mean, grovelling spirit takes all
the dignity out of t'lie figure and all the
charaeter out of the countenance.
Scandal, like the Nile, Is fed by in
numerable streams; but it Is exceed
bigly dillicult to trace It to its source.
Our distinctions do not lie In the
places whici we occupy, but in the
grace and dignity with which we fill
Self love is at once the most tenacious
of our sontiments-a mere nothing
wounds it, but nothing on earth will
Plato will have disciples, but Socra
tes will have adorers; because If the
one knew how to hink, the other knew
how to tile.
Ignorance, when it is voluntary, Is
criminal, and he may properly be
charged with evil who refused to learn
how Ile might prevent It.
How narrow our souls become when
absorbed in any present good or Ill I
It 18 only the thourht of the future
that makes them great.
The per fection of' conversation is not
to play a regular sonata, but like the
'olian harp, to await the inspiration
oi the passing oreeze,
Those who, without knowing us,
think or speak evil of' us, do us no
harm; it is not us they attack, but the
pliantoin of their own imagination.
A l skill ought to be exerted for unti
versal good; every man has owed
iucieh to others and oulight to repay the
kindness that lie has received.
A man has no right to occupy such
high moral grounds that lie is constail
thy so far above his felows that lie can
be of no eardiy assistance to them.
Iolilteness may prevent the want of
wit and talents fron being observed ;
but wit maid talent cannot prevent the
discovery of the want of pollteneas.
No man has come to true greatness
who has not felt in some degree that
his life belongs to his race, and that
what God gives hini, lie gives him for
Kt-el) close to your friends and far
away from your enenies, and you will
never have to ilidulge lin tile luxury of
The disesteem and contempt of others
14 iseperable I roin pride. It is hardly
possible for as to overvalue ourselves
but by undervaluing others.
Stick to one thing until it Is dono,
ntid done well. The man who chases
two hares not only leaves one of them,
but, is pretty sure to lose the other also.
The ordinary employment of artifiee
is the mark of a pretty mind; and it
Al ways happens that lie who uses it to
cover himself in one place uncovers
hiniel in another.
Avarice almost always mistakes
itself; there is no passion which more
often deprives I sell of its object, nor
on which the presentexercises so much
power to prejudlice of the future.
The devil runs an immense ina.tufac
tory of excuses. They are of all sizes
and shapes, suilted to every possible
occasion, and such Is the demand for
tim that it is impossible to overstock
'The h 1jappiess of your lite depends
upon the quality of your thoughts;
therefore guard yourself accordingly,
and take care thlat yon entertain no
notions unsultable to virtue and urn
realsonaible to nature.
D~uty is tihe little blue sky over every
heart and soul-over every life -large
enough for a star to look between the
ciluds, and for the skylark happiness
to see heaven ward through' and sing in.
Life has many Ills, but the mind that
viewvs every object in tihe most cheer
ing aspect and every doubtful dispen
sation as replete with latent goodl,
bears within itself a powerfull and per
A man who makes his money at the
expenIse of his health and his honor,
pays too much ; lie who gets his money
by lucky hits pays too little. . if lie
payss too much lie cheats himself'. It'
lhe pays too little lie cheats mankind.
If you wiint to know what to think
of a inuan, ask him what he thinks of'
his neighbiors. If lhe sees their best
sidle, you can trust him; if lhe discour
ses of their bad side, make him pay *
casah or get his goods some where else.
Napoteon I. said lie recognized the
superiority of a mani by the degree of
uleverniess whlch lie showed in the art
of lying. One of his uncles told hIm
whuen a boy that hie would govern the
world, because lhe was a habitual liar.
A man must have either great men
or great objects before him, othierw Ise
his powers degenerate, as the masgneth
do wheni it has ilin for a long time
without being tunrned tobvaurd the righ
corner's of the world.
hlumility is every where preached and.
p~ruid practised ; they persuade othuers
to labor for hieaven, and fall out about
earth themselves, their lives are con
tratry to their doctrines, and theIr doc
tr'mies one to another.
Always add, always walk, always
proc'eed; neither stand still, nor go
bo k, nor deviate; lie that standeth
still proceedoth nzot.; hie goeth b ick
that continuoth nor ; lhe that dovlateth
revoltethi; he goethi better that creep
et~h In is way, than lie that moveth',
-ur of his way.
Conversationi is a virtue, and lie can
lxe of iio good nature that (100s not proe T
f'er Is before all other enjoyments what
soever. Company whets and adorns
our good parts, the most exalted en.
dowmnents gro'ving dull without is,
Men acquire color and perfume from '"
.hle qualities of their associates, and '
the coniversation of good personasis
He who makes the nm st of himself,
of his health, his faculties, his~ post
tion, his opportunities, Is a benef actor,
A full cistern in a dry timo will glad.
deon a household, and a well-ripenedl
ear of corn will contribute to the wealt
of nations. So one who has resolirons
is always wanrted to diminish the~-'