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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jfnhtptnlititf Jfantilj lietospajitr: Jfor % pronto tion of tbt |foliticaI, Social, Agricultural aitii Commercial interests of l|t Sonfjj. TERMS?$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 27. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1881. ^ ? MO. 41. ?^MMMM??MMp? MM?W^??^ ^ 1 m ftunr idler. SCENE IN A JURY ROOM. I once had the extreme felicity of leaving ray business to serve upon "the Jury" I pleaded in all manner of ways for release, but to no effect. I could not swear that I was deaf, nor blind, nor yet non compos; but did tell thera that I had already formed an opinion. They asked me if ray opinion would prevent roe from receiving the testimony in good faith, and rendering a verdict according to it. I replied that of course I should weigh the evidence carefully, and be governed by it. I was then informed that I "would do." The case to be tried was one of arson?then a capital offence?and the prisoner at the bar was a young man uamed Charles Ambold, whom I had kuowa from boyhood, And who was naturally one of the 6nest youths of the town where he resided. He had a widowed ?UdnnonJoJ nnnn Viim fnr nnnnnrt UiUbUCl nIIW uc^'Viuuvu MJ/vii MIM. av. f and his circle of friends was large and choice. I was morally certain that he did not commit the crime, and hence, I am sure, those who were friendly to him got me on the panel, and had me retained. The trial commenced and we twelve men took our seats in the jury box. I had a very respectable set with me?only there was one whom I didn't like to see there. This man was Moulton Warren. He was a dark-faced, sinister lookiug fellow?at least to me. I knew that young Ambold had one fault He had been recently addicted to drink, and had been known to visit disreputable houses. It was one of those houses that had been burned, for setting fire to which he had been apprehended. Now, I had often tried to dissuade Charles Ambold from the course he was pursuing. He had repeatedly promised me that he would reform, and as repeatedly had he broken away. I had often talked to him of his poor mother, until he had wept like a child ; but the effect was not lasting. There was a power of temptation more effective than auy influence I could wield. He would fall away into this evil companionship, and for a while his manhood was gone. One or two abandoned women had gained great power over * * ^ l him, and upon them be wasted mucn 01 nis substance. And I knew that this very man who was now upon the jury?this Moulton Warren? was the one who had done more than all others to lead the poor youth away. It was Warren who had drank with him, and who had led him away to those more abominable haunts of sin and pollution. Why was he upon the jury? I could only account for it upon the ground that Charley still supposed him to be his friend. The poor scorched insect was still ignorant of the flame that scorched him. He really believed that Moulton Warren was his friend. The trial commenced. The indictment set forth that Charles Ambold had, "with malice afore-thought," and with all sorts of wicked and felonious intents, set fire to a certain dwelling house, thereby endangering human life. This dwelling, as I have already intimated, was a low sink of iniquity, where the abandoued of both sexes were wont to congregate ; and where the youthful prisoner had spent much of his time. The evidence for the prosecution came on, and I was startled. Oae after another gave in their testimony, some of them very reluctantly, aud I was frightened when I saw how plainly it all pointed to the prisoner as the guilty party. Several credible witnesses swore that they had heard him threaten to burn the house down ; and others had heard him say repeatedly that he wished it was burned dowu ! Then came several witnesses? three of the prominent citizens?who saw him lurking about the premises on the night of the fire. With regard to the provocation on the prisoner's part for such a deed it was proved, upon his own admission, that he had been ill-treated there and that he had sworn to have revenge. And furthermore, it was proved that he had been heard to say that his salvation of soul and body depended upon the destruction of that house. Nest came more testimony stronger still. The fire had been set in a back basement room where shavings and other stuff for kindling were kept. Eutrance had been gained through a back window, which had been partly pried open with a stout knife which had been broken off in trying to raise it (the sash.) The blade was recognized as belonging to the prisoner's knife ! A maker of cutlery had made a knife to order for Arabold only a month previous, and he knew the blade at once, and swore to it. But this was not all. The fire had been evidently set first to the shavings which lay upon the Btone floor, but piled up against a ^ wooden partition. This floor was damp, and some of the outer shavings, even, were not wholly burned up. But just at the edge, where the fire commenced, lay a piece of paper, rolled up, and about half burned, and from the manner in which it lay, it was very evident that the fire had been set with it. This piece of rolled paper had been ignited by * match, a number of which were scattered around, and as soon as it wa9 on fire it bad been laid upon the floor, with the burning end just in the shavings. Of course, shese shavings were in a blaze instantly ; but the paper torch being upon the damp stones, had not burned wholly up. And this paper was found to be a part of a letter belonging to the prisoner. A letter which he had received from a friend of his (and a friend of mine) only a week before! That friend had to come forward and swear that the piece of charred paper was part of a letter he had written to the prisoner! This friend's name wa9 Stephen Grant. He was a young merchant, and the letter had been written for the purpose of inducing Ambold to reform. Stephen tried hard to avoid testifying for he knew, as did others, that the fire must have heen set with that identical paper; but he whs summoned, and he conld not deny his own chirography. The case looked dark. Many witnesses were willing to testify to the prisoner's good qualities ; but no one could swear that he was not dissipated and degraded. That house had been tp him indeed, a region infernal. Its degradation cried out for his bodily life ; and its existeuce had long been eating away his soul. Poor Charley ! I had before been sure of his innocence; but now I could only T shake my head and pity him ! Finally he was allowed to speak for himself. He said he was innocent of the crime imputed to him. He said that he had threatened to hum that house down?that he had said about all that had been sworn to. Aud furthermore, he was arouud the house on the night of the fire. He was not ten rods off when the flames burst forth and he was one of the first to give the alarm. He had uttered one cry of fire when he noticed where the flames must have originated, and the thought came to him if he were found there, he might be suspected of having set the fire ; so he ran away. He also said that three uight3 before the conflagration, he had been robbed in that house. His pockets had been emptied of everything in them, and his pock et-book containing forty dollars in money, j and some valuable papers had been taken. ; Ho bad gone there on the night of the fire to j i try and persuade them to give him back his j j money and papers?or at least to get back I j what he could. When he got there he saw a j ; man go in whom he did not wish to see, so he j had hung around, waiting for him to part. He was around by the back of the building ouce?and that was an hour before the fire broke out. He knew nothing?nothing. He clasped his hands, and with his tearless eyes raised toward heaven, he called to God to witness that he was innocent! I have told you that I knew him well. I knew him so well, that from that moment I knew him to be innocent! I knew his very soul?I knew how free and open it was?ah, how sinfully so ! I knew there was no falsehood in the story he had told us. "My boy is innocent! My boy is innocent !" I heard the cry?and I saw an old woman sink back into the arms of a male companion. It was his poor mother! Her heart was well nigh broken ! Yet I saw that all this had but little effect upon the mass of spectators. The prisoner's course of dissipation?his many threats against the house? aud the very fact of his having been robbed and abused there were heavy against him. The counsel for the prisoner made his speech, which was labored and bard. He was foolish enough to intimate that if his client was around at the back part of the house more than once, he must have been intoxicated. In short, his plea had better been left out. The evidence he could not shake, and he did all he could to suppose evidence, some of it most absurd and ridiculous. I afterwards learned that Moulton Warren engaged that lawyer for the youthful prisoner ! The government's attorney made his plea. It was plain, straightforward aud very conclusive. The judge finally gave his charge. He was fair and candid. He reviewed the evidence carefully and pointed out such as bore heavily upon the case. He told us if there was a lingering doubt in our minds we must give the prisoner the benefit of it. But I could plainly see that there was no doubt in his mind. We, the jury, were conducted to our room by au officer, and there locked up. A silence of some minutes ensued. Moulton Warren was the first to speak : "Well," he said, "I s'pose there's no need of our bein here a great while. Of course we all know that the prisoner must have set fire to the house !" There was something in the manner of that man as he said this that excited my curiosty?I won't say it was suspicion then? only curiosity. He spoke with a forced effort at calmness which I at once perceived. The more I looked at him the more I became strangely nervous aud uneasy; wondered why he should be so anxious to be rid of the case, and have Amboid convicted. I knew that he had frequented that evil house, and that he had done so much towards helping Charley to disipation. I knew he was in that house on the night on which the prisoner was robbed?for Charley had told we so when I visited him in his cell. I had then asked the unfortunate youth if he was sure Warren was his friend. 0, he was sure of it. He should have hunted him up on the night of his robbery, only they told him Warren had gone. By the by, the foreman proposed that we should each take up a piece of paper and write down our opinion, and then compare notes. I went to my hat, which I had placed upon a table with a number of others, aud took out a sheet of paper. I had got I half way back to the table when I found I j had made a mistake. I had got part of a ! let.tpr from another man's hat. I was about to turn back when the name of the writer of the letter ar. .'Sted my attention. I looked more closely, and read?"Stephen Grant." I Next I caught this sentence : "And now dear Charles, if not for your owu, yet for your mother's sake, let me hope you will do better." I started as though a shot had struck me. I held in my hand the other half of the sheet ] which had been used to fire the burned house ! | I went to the table and found that I had taken it from Moulton Warren's hat I I looked to see if I had been observed?and I had not. I put the paper back, and then took a piece from my own hat, which was of the same pattern as the other, and by its side. I returned to the table and sat down. Warren was by my side. He had written his opinion and took a knife from his pocket to cut it from the large sheet. "Let me take your knife a moment, if you please," I said to him. Without hesitation he did so. I took it? I it icas Charles Ambold's knife!?'-the large I blade was gone ! With all the power I posj sessed, I restrained my deep emotions, and I having cut ray paper, I handed back the knife. Why should he have that knife so boldly about him ? I afterwards learned. He had i not worn those pautaloons before since the night of the fire ; and now he used the knife, probably, without the least remembrance of ! the loss it had sustained during a very pecuj liar piece of work, to the execution of which I it was made subservient. We talked for some ten minutes, and I found that eleven of the jury were bent on ; rendering a verdict of guilty ; though most ; I of them were in favor of recommending the j prisoner to mercy. Moulton Warren was de: cided. He had no mercy at all. Presently I started up and pretended to be j faiut. 1 said 1 must go out a lew moments. I kicked at the door and the deputy sheriff' came. He heard my plea and let me out. j As soou as we had gained a safe distance, I \ told him all. He was astonished. He went j away, and when he came back he brought the district attorney and the district judge and the sheriff. I told again what I had I seen?I assured them that I knew what I had ; seen?that it was no mere suspicion. And I explained, too, Warren's manner in the jury ; I room, his former connection with the prisoner, and his known character. The officers went away and at the end of i ten minutes they returned with a constable added to their number, and this constable had a freshly written instrument in his hand. The sheriff bade me point out the hat to them as soon as we entered the room. The door of the room was opened, and I pointed them to the bat. The sheriff took it j and asked whos it was. Warren leaped to : his feet and seiz 'd it, but he was held back, j Word was instantly sent to the judge that j the jury could not agree. They were dis- ; charged, and then Moulton Warren was: searched. The knife was found upon him, and his behavior at once exposed his guilt.: The preseuee of that letter was accouuted for j by him in a dozen different ways within an ' hour. i A new jury was empanueled, and Charles Ambold was acquitted. Shortly afterwards, j Warren was tried, and it was plainly proved ! that he had set fire to the house, and the woman who kept it was to have been burned up j in it, as he had contrived to lock her into her j room shortly after setting the fire. She had I iucurred his displeasure in various ways, and this was his revenge. Not only Bhe, but two of her girls had suspected him from the first, but they dared not complaiu, for fear he would not be convicted, and would then be sure to murder them. The hardened villain confessed his guilt after he bad been condemned, and then it was that he told how he happened to be so careless in regard to the paper and knife. It was he who had robbed Arabold, and when he took the old letter from his hat to use for a torch in setting the fire, he did not notice what it was, and even when that partly burned half had been exhibited in cpurt, he had entirely forgotten that he had torn off the other half and put it back in his hat, as he must have doue. The letter had been found in Ambold's pocket book, and he had kept it because in it the youth was warned against his influence. He confessed that he held a slight idea of calling the writer to an account when it should be convenient. With regard to the knife, it was as I before stated. He took that also from Ambold's pocket, and put in his own ; and on the night of the fire he used it to pry up the 6ash, and when he had broken it he put it in his pocket and forgot it. Thus was Charley saved?and saved from more than an ignominious death, too. He was saved to be a noble, virtuous man ; and his mother once more took ample delight and joy in the love and tender care of her only child. When Charles Ambold knew that Moulton Wrrren had expiated his crime on the gallows, he sat down aud pondered upon his pa?t life. The thought of his old companion being hanged sent a strange thrill through his frame. But he was able to trace out, clearly and logically, this terrible result from the course of life this ill-fated man had pursued. He shuddered as he remembered how far he had gone in the same course himself; and he was able to Bee the only safe path for any youth. Not only must he shun temptation?not only keep clear of even the appearance of vice?but, above all he mifst shun evil companionship. A youth may make all the good resolutions thought can afford, but if he continue one evil companionship he is not safe! IgisttikttMttSi fteadiug. THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. Many popular impressions concerning "the Declaration of Independence," are derived from fourth ot Juiy orations ana pictures, both of which are apt to mislead, as does the picture of "the First Prayer in Congress." Nine out of ten suppose that somewhere about noon on the fourth of July, 1776, Congress passed the vote affirming the Colonies independent, and that the'old bell ringer in the steeple of the State House, receiving the intelligence of this eyent, was seized with a suddeu enthusiasm to swing the old bell, to ring out the news to the people in such a loud, joyous manner, as to put the quiet citizens of Philadelphia in a wonderful excitement. Then there was the signing of the Declaration. We have a picture of that, too, which teaches us how the representatives of the Colonies vied with each other in putting their names to the immortal instrument, so that before night the famous parchment, the original paper, which now is seen in the Patent Office, was engrossed, and signed as we now have it! A few facts gieaned from various sources will be interesting as rectifying these impressions about this famous transaction?thi3 crisis in human affairs. On the 10th of June, 1776, Mr. Harrison, of Virginia, reported a resolution, part of which is said to have been a literal transcript of the instruction given by the Convention of Virgiuia to their Representatives in Congness, and which was moved on the 7th of June, iu Congress, by Richard Henry Lee. Mr. Harrison's resolutions embodying Mr. Lee's, is in these words : Resolved, That the consideration of the first resolution be postponed to Monday, the first day of July next; and in the meanwhile that no time be lost, in case the Congress agree thereto, that a committee be appointed to prepare a declaration to the effect of the said first resolution, which is in these words: "That these United States are, and of right ought to be free and Independent States; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown ; and that all political cuonection between them and the State of Great Britain is, j and ought to be, totally dissolved." The resolution was adopted. Ou the 11th of June, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Rodger Sherman, R. R. Livingston, were appointed a committee to draft a Declaration. Richard Henry Lee, as the original mover of the resolution for declaring the Colonies independent, would have been named as chairman of the committee, but, unfortunately for himself, he received intelligence of sickness in his family, which made it necessary for him to be absent before that committee was appointed. Jefferson had the reputation of being a brilliant writer, and succeeded to the place of honor. The elder Adams, in his auto biography, says that he saw and read the original draft of the declaration, and he speaks in terms'of rapturous admiration of it: "I was delighted with its high tone, and the j flight of oratory with which it abounded, esneciallv that concerning negro slavery," &c. He further says of the committee, intimating j that Jefferson's paper had not been read by all the members: We were all in haste. Congress was impatient, and the rnstrument was reported, as I believe, in Jefferson's handwriting. On the 28th of June, the committee reported the original declaration, which was read for the first time in Congress. On the 1st of July, this declaration was again read and discussed in committee of the whole. It was carried in committee by vote of the States; Pennsylvania and South Carolina voting against it. John Adams says, that in the'discussion, July 1st, Dickinson of Pennsylvania, opposed the declaration "in a speech of great length. * * He conducted the debate not only with great ingenuity aud eloquence, but with equal politeness and candor, and was answered in tliesnme spirit." Dickinson, a brother of Gen. Philruou Dickinson, of New Jersey, au officer whom Washington frequently mentions with honor, was a strong debater and a sincere patriot, acknowledging the grievances complained of, but lacking that stern and heroic spirit that animated such men as Adams, Witherspoon and Lee. Hence he shrank from an open rupture with Great Britain, as certain to eud not only in greater evils to the country, hut to individuals prominent in . the rebellion. In this feeling two representatives from Pennsylvania shared. But of this more in another place. Dickinson's speech produced a profound impression, and tliis is not to be wondered at when we consider the nature of the contest which it was the object of that speech to show. John Adams, one of the most fluent aud powerful speakers, answered Dickinson, and it cannot be too much regretted that not a scrap of that speech remains except perhaps the tradition out of which Mr. Webster made one of his most splendid paragraphs. It was on the 1st of July that the newly ! elected delegates from New Jersey, of whom Dr. Witherspoon was one, took their seats and voted a solid vote for the declaration. The next day, July, 2nd, the paper was again read and subjected to a severe process, which sifted out some paragraphs. Some were thought too disrespectful towards the English people, some too hostile to the king personally and some were too condemnatory (indirectly) of the institution of slavery. During this eliminating process, Jefferson was greatly excited, at times showing his chagrin ; which state of mind Franklin greatly relieved by telling to Mr. Jefferson the criticisms made on the sign which a hatter in Philadelphia had over his store. About one quarter, according to the elder Adams, or one-third, according to Jefferson, of the original paper, was stricken out, leaving the document as we now have it. The adoption of this paper was warmly debated through the second, third and fourth days of July, and towards the close of the latter day, the motion to adopt prevailed. It was then signed by nearly every member present, except Mr. Dickinsoivwbo refused to sign. Willing and Humphreys, two delegates from Pennsylvania, purposely absented themselves to keep from signing. These three gentlemen were decapitated forthwith by the Convention of Pennsylvania, then in session, and men elected in their places who would sign. Of the other Pennsylvania delegates, j Franklin, John Morton and James Wilson, I signed the declaration at once, and Robert j Morris, the remaining delegate, was absent on public business and had permission to sign afterwards. It is a fact worth knowing, that the delegates from New York were willing to sign, but waited for instructions from home, which they received and put their names to the declaration on the 15th of July. Matthew Thornton did not take his seat in Congress uutil the 4th of November, and at that time he signed the declaration. The original paper, as interlined and amended, was given to the Secretary of Congress to be engrossed on parchment, and this engrossed copy, the one in the Patent Office, was again signed by most of the members on the second of August, and at different intervals afterwards by the re6t. Can any one tell whether the real original is yet in existence f These facts are gleaned principally from the Journals of Congress, Tucker's Life of Jefferson and the works of John Adams. The passage on negro slavery, which was erased from Jefferson's original draft, is not published in books accessible to the most. The passage is as follows: "He, the king, has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the person of a distant people toKa novor nfFonrleH Him. oantivatiner and ! carrying them into slavery in another hemis phere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither. The practical warfare, the opprobrium of Infidel nations, is the warfare of the Christian King of Great Britain. Determined to keep opeu a market where men should be bought and sold, he has prostituted his negative for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or restrain this execrable commerce. And that this assemblage of horrors might want no fact of distinguished dye, he is now exciting those very people to rise in arms among us, and to purchase that liberty of which he has de prived them, by murdering these people on whom he has obtruded them, thus paying off' former crimes committed against the liberties of one people with the crimes which he urges them to commit against the lives of another." Tucker, in his life of Jefferson, supplies this remarkable passage, together with all the changes made in the orig,nal draft of the declaration. . Gordon, in his history of the Revolution, says the reason why the first of July did not become Independence Day, was that "neither the colonies nor the members being unanimous, it was postponed until the next day." But when did the venerable bell, still preserved in Independence Hall, peal out the notes of liberty ? Gordon has the following answer: "July 8th. This day, at 12 o'clock the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed at the State House in Philadelphia, amidst the greatest acclamations. The same evening the equestrian statue of the king was laid prostrate on the ground. The lead of which it was made was to be run into bullets." STEPHEN GIRARD. A recent number of the Household Words contains the following sketch of Stephen Girard: In 1812 Stephen Girard, the one eyed cabin boy of Bordeau, purchased the banking premises of the bank of the United States (whose charter was not renewed) and started the Girard Bank, a large private establishment, which not only conferred advantages on the community greater than the State institution upon which it was founded, but while the public credit W83 shaken, and the Government finances exhausted by war, the Girard Bank could command large subscriptions of loan, and put itself in the position of the principal creditor of the country. In 1814 Girard subscribed the whole of a large Government loan from patriotic motives; in 1817 he contributed by his unshaken credit and undiminished funds, to bring about the resumption of specie payments. In 1831 his opera* il.? Hons were so extensive mm wueu luo vuuuu; was placed in extreme embarrassment from the scarcity of money by reason of the balance of trade being against it, he was enabled by a single transaction with an eminent English firm to turn the exchanges and cause specie to flow into the States. | To add to his singular and deficient character, he was deaf in one ear, could only speak broken English, never conversed upon any thing but business, and wore the same old coat cut in the French style, for five years together. An old rickety chaise, remarkable for its age, aud marked with the J initials "S. G.,' drawn by a faded horse, was ! used when he rode about the city. He had j no sense of hospitality, no friend to share his ' house or his table. He was deferential in appearance to rank and family ; violent and | passionate only to one man?an old and faithj ful clerk named Robergot. His theological ! opinions were heretodox in the extreme, and i he loved to name his splendid vessels after i Voltaire and Rousseau. He was devoted to J the improvement of his adopted city and ! country ; he was a determined follower of ! ostentatious charity. No man ever applied : to him for a large public grant in vain, while ! the starving beggar was invariably sent from j his gate. He steadily rose every morning be- j | fore the lark, and unceasing was the daily ] : worship of his life. ! Stephen Girard began his remarkable traI ding career with one object, which he steadily ! kept in view all his long life?the making of ! money for the power it conferred. He was j content, at starting with the small profits of ! the retail trader, willing to labor in any ca! pacity to make these profits secure. He pracI ticed the most rigid personal economy, he re| sisted all the allurements of pleasure; he exj acted the last farthing that was due him, and i he paid the last farthing that he owed. He : took every advantage the law allowed him i in resisting a claim ; he used men just so far as they would accomplish his purpose; he paid his servants no more than the market price; when a faithful cashier died, he exhibited the utmost indifference, making no provision for his family, and uttering no sentiment of regret for his loss. He would higgle for a penny with a huckster in the street; he would deny the watchman at his bank the customary Christmas present of a great coat. Thus he attained his eighty-second year. In 1830, he had nearly lost the sight of his one eye, and used to be seen groping about his bank, disregarding every offer of assistance. Crossing one of the Philadelphia roads, he was knocked down by a passing wagon, his face was bruised, aod his right ear was nearly cut off. His one eye, which before opened slightly was now entirely closed ; he gradually wasted, away, and his health declined. On the twenty-sixth of December, Stephen Girard expired in a back room, on the third floor of his house, in Water street, Philadelphia, leaving the bulk of bis large fortune, upwards, of a million sterling, to found charities, and to benefit the city and the country in which he had acquired it. He left his monument in the Girard College, that marble roofed palace for the education and protection of the orphan children of the poor, which stands the most perfect model of architecture in the New World, high above the buildings of Philadelphia, visible from every eminence of the surrounding country. Every detail of the external arrangement of his Orphan College was set forth clearly and carefully in his will ; showing that the design upon which he had lavished the mass of his wealth was not the hasty developed fancy of a few hours or days, but was the heart-cherished, silent project of his whole life. YOKKTOWN. Official Programme of the Ceremonies. The State Commissioners for the Yorktown Centennial celebration have been requested to meet at Yorktown on October 17, one day in advance of the commencement of the official ceremonies. The official ceremonies and proceedings are to be under the exclusive control and direction of the Yorktown Congressional Commission. It is understood that an impression has in some way gone abroad that the Yorktown Centennial Association has some jurisdiction over the official ceremonies, 1 1 117 L..J. out tnis is entirely incorrect, vt nuiever pan that very worthy and creditable organization may take during the four days' celebration will be simply in its capacity as a private association. The following is the official programme which has been determined upon for the ceremonies of the four days : TUE8DAY, OCTOBER 18. The President and his Cabinet, the Congressional Commission, the Governors and Commissioners of the States and the guests of the nation will be received by the Governor of Virginia and his staff in LaFayette Hall at 11 A. M. The Chairman of the Joint Commission of Congress, Hon. John W. Johnston, United States Senator from Virginia, will call the assembly to order at 12 o'clock noon, at the monument site. Prayer by Rev. Robt. Nelson, grandson of Governor Nelson, of Virginia, who commanded the Virginia militia during the siege of Yorktown. The Star Spangled Banner by three hundred voices, under the leadership of Professor Charles L. Siegel, of Richmond, Va. The accompaniment by the Marine Band. Addresses of welcome by His Excellency F. W. M. Holliday, Governor of Virginia. The Mareellaise Hymn by the chorus of voices, under the leadership of Professor Sieeel. the accompaniment by the Marine Band. Introductory address by the Chairman of the commission, Hon. John \V. Johnston, of Virginia. "Hail Columbia," by the chorus of voices led by Professor Siegel; the accompaniment by the Marine Band. Laying the corner-stone of the monument by the grand master of Masons in Virginia, assisted by the masters of the thirteen original States. Grant fantasia, "International Congress," Soussa, by the Marine Band, conducted by Professor Philip Soussa. At 7 P. M., there will be a pyrotechnic display from a boat moored in York river. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 19. The assembly will be called together by Hon. John W. Johnston. Overture, "Le Caid,' Arabroise Thomas, by the Marine Band, conducted by Professor Soussa. Prayer by Bishop Harris, of the M. E. Church, of New York, Hymn, words by Charles Poiudexter, music by J. E. Schmelzer, rendered by the chorus of three hundred voices under Professor C. L. Siegel, accompanied by the Marine Band under Professor Soussa. ' Address by the President of the United States. Centennial Ode, words by Paul H. Hayne, of South Carolina, music by Professor T. Mosenthal, of New York, rendered by the chorus of three hundred voices under Professor C. L. Siegel, accompanied by the Marine Band. Oration by Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, of Massachusetts. Tbe Star Spangled Banner, by the chorus under Professor Siegel, accompanied by the Marine Band. Centennial Poem by James Barron Hope, of Virginia. Overture by Dodworth's Thirteenth Regiment Band of the National Guard of the State of New York. At the conclusion of the ceremonies a reception will be held by the President of the United States and his cabinet, the congressional commission and the guests of the nation, in Lafayette Hall. At 7 P. M. there will be pyrotechnic display from boats moored in York river. thursday, october 20. Grand military parade and review by the President of the United States of the troops and other organizations present, under command of Major-General Winfield S. Hancock, United States army, the arrangements for which will be made by him and announced later. friday, october 21. Grand naval review by the President of the United States and exercises of the fleet under command of Rear Admiral Wyman, U. S. N., the arrangements for which will be made by him and announced later. * * * * By order of the commission. H. C. Corbin, Assistant Adjutant-General United States Army, Master of Ceremonies. +. ? John Randolph and J. C. Calhoun.? An amusing reconciliation John Randolph patched up with Mr. Calhoun when the former believed that he was on his death bed. "They were rival Southern statesmen, and the former being the senior, as well as the stronger of the two, had the most marked position. Mr. Randolph, pending this controversy, and toward the latter part of his Congressional life, was taken ill. All hope of his recovery was given up, and the friends of Mr. Calhoun, being desirous that a reconciliation should take place before Randolph died, arranged a meeting between the two. Mr. Calhoun repaired to the bed side of Mr. Randolph. He found him feeble, though able to converse freely. Mutual explanations took place. Mr. Calhoun sincerely forgave his prostrate antagonist every severe thing he had ever uttered against him, and Mr. Randolph reciprocated. 'Thus were the kindest relations (ostensibly) restored. But to the astonishment of Calhoun, as he was about taking his leave, Randolph called him back, and with his shrill, sharp voice, exclaimed : "Now, remember Mr. Calhoun?if I get well, all this goes for nothing." He did get well, and true to bis well settled hatred, be neyer spoke to Calhoun afterwards." DECEIVING CHILDREN. I was spending a few days with an intimate friend, and never did I see a more systematic house-wife, and what then seemed to me, one who had so quiet and complete control of her child. But the secret of the latter I soon learned. One evening she wished to spend 4.L ? ? -4 ? ~ T* ntAfl ? o m nil OA W1LU IlJtJ at a iicigliuuro. ll? woo ? onion OUcial gathering of friends, therefore she was very desirous of attending; but her child demanded her presence with him, and hearing him say hi9 prayers, she said: "Willie, did you not see that pretty little kitten in the streets to day ?" "Yes, I did," be replied. "I wish I had her! wasn't she pretty ?'* "Yes, very. Now, don't you want me to buy the kitty for you? Perhaps the man will sell her." "0, yes, mother; do buy her." "Well, then, be a good boy while I am gone." Thus saying, she closed the door, but he immediately called her back. "Don't go till morning; then I can go with you. Woo't you stay ?" "No, Willie! the man won't sell it if I don't go to-night, so be a good boy." He said no more, but quietly lay down. "Is this the way you govern your child ?" said I, after we had gained the streets. "If you but knew the injury you are doing, you would take a different course." "Injury !" she repeated. "Why what harm have I done! I did not tell him I would see the man?I only said if I should.'' "But you gave him to understand that you would. He is not old enough to detect the difFprfine.fi now. hut he soon will be. Then I fear you will perceive your error too late. You have yourself grafted a thorn in the young rose, which will eventually pierce you most bitterly. You cannot break off the thorn, or club the point, to make it less piercing. On your return he will not see the kitten ; therefore, you will have to invent another falsehood to conceal the first." We had now gained our friend's door, which ended our conversation. During the evening she seemed gayer than usual. My words had little or no effect upon her. She did not think her little one was doing all he could to keep awake to see the coveted kitten on her return, wondering what made "mother gone so long." It was late ere I reminded her that we ought to return. But little was said during the homeward walk. She went noiselessly into the room, supposing her boy asleep; but he heard her and said : "Mother, is that you ? Have you brought the kitten ? I kept awake to see it, and I was so sleepy." "No, my dear ; the man would not sell her." "Why won't he, mother?" he asked with quivering lips. "I don't know. I suppose he wants her to catch rats and mice." "Did he say so, mother?" "He did not say just that, but I thought he meant, so." "I did want it so bad, mother." The little lips quivered, and the tears started to bis eyes. He rubbed them with his little hands, winking fast to keep them back, but they would come. At last he fell asleep with the pearly drops glistening on his rosy cheeks. The mother's glistened also. As she knelt to kiss them away, he murmured softly in bis broken slumber, "I did want it so bad." She turned her dewy eyes to me, saying, "You have led me to see my error. Never will I again, let what will be the consequence, deceive my child to please myself." Mother, are you practicing the same deception ? If ycu are, pause and think of the consequences ere it is too late. Does it not lessen your confidence in a person when you find out that they have been deceiving you ? Will it not also diminish that of your children in you, when they become old enough to detect it ? Besides, it would be very strange if they themselves did not imitate you in things of greater importance. It is the pride and joy of a mother's heart to gain and retain the entire confidence of her child, and it is in her power to do so, if she but exercise that power by precept and example.?N. Y. Independent. The Forger's Follt.?How often the young mind, and the old too, for that matter, 1^*4 */v o nroannf maHp nf 19 1CU bU bllC ucll&i buau ? |/4wwu? ?mvv*w w? struggling in poverty can be changed for one of elegance and leisure by committing forgery, or in some other unlawful way obtaining large sums of money, and then fleeing the country. This is an every-day occurrence, and yet what iota of happiness can be, or ever has been obtained from such an act ? A man forges a check for a large sum successfully, flees the country, and arrives with his booty in a foreign land, unknown and ready for the anticipated enjoyment. Then he begins to realize what a mistake he has made. Every day he arises and goes to bed with the fear of detection, and this fear can be partly driven away from his daily thoughts only by indulging in the wild freaks and excitements which his means will now allow. Consequently he seeks this escape from daily anxiety; but a mind weak enough to commit forgery will act with equal frailty in the management of money matters. And hence it is that a man in this unfortunate position soon squanders his funds ; and, having once indulged in indolence and extravagant living, he cannot return to steady work, but seeks to relieve himself by a repetition of his former crime. Ouce started in such a career, it is too late to retreat; and one has the alternative of giving himself up to the jailer, or spending the remainder of his natural existence in a sneaking, cowardly way, unable to look any one in the face, without a friend in whom he can trust, and despised by all right-minded people. Why Stone Walls are Damp.?The walls of a stone house are covered with dampness. This is due to the very same cause by which dew is deposited on the side of a glass, or a pitcher that is filled with ice-water and is brought into a warm room. The walls become cold, and as stone is a non-conductor of heat they remain cold for a long time. When the weather changes suddenly from cold to warm, the air becomes filled with moisture?for the warmer the air is, the more moisture it will absorb. When this warm air strikes the cold walls the moisture is deposited on them, nnd as the warm air is continually coming in contact with the wall, and dampness accumulates until it appears like dew upon them and pours down in streams at times. It is easily prevented. No plaster should be put directly on the brick or stone, but furring strips should be nailed to the wall and the laths put on these. Cellars are frequently made very damp in the same way by too much ventilation in warm weather. The warm air pouring in is cooled, and its moisture is deposited on the walls and floor until they are so wet as to surprise the housekeeper, who wonders how it is the cellar will not dry, and the more it is aired the wetter it becomes. POKER IN A LEGISLATURE. In yearp gone by a certain Representative in our State Legislatu re was supposed to have been "seen" on a certain bill, but as he kept his own counsel no ooe could get any proof against him. He bad been elected as an honest, upright man, and when his constituents heard the rumors against bis integrity they were amazed. A delegate was appointed to go down to Lansing and hear his side of the story, and when this man returned home he was invited to make known bis re searches before an oj>ea meeting. "My friends," he began, "I went to Lansing with the determination to sift-the ma?" " ter to the bottom. I found that 8 was living high and dressing like a lord !" A groan went through the meeting, and men shook their beads in a solemn way. "He sports a gold watch and cane," continued the delegate, and he was talking of buying a $500 horse to bring home with him. You remember, he went away from here a poor man." "Then he sold his vote !" shouted one of the yeomen. "/confess it looked that way to me at first," replied the delegate, "but when I came to tackle him personally he explained every- < thing as clear as day. He had not sold his vote. He bad not forgotten that an honest constituency was behind him and no money could have bribed his conscience. No, my friends, there is no stain on his reputation." "Then how did be get his money ?" asked three or four at once. "Well, I don't know as I can explain it as well as he did, and I'm sorry I did not write it down. It seems that the members don't have anything to do evenings, and instead of reading novels or attending the wicked theatre IIiob rrotViar in liMln nrnwHfl ftPOIind the v? v VUVJT gMliUVA <U liuviv w* v I> ?aw table and the one who has four of a kind of something or other rakes in something called the pot. I don't know where the money comes in, but it's somehow or other our esteemed Representative always has more of a kind than any one else. This is as near as I can remember, and I suggest a vote of continued confidence in our member until he himself returns to explain what the 'kinds' are, and what the pot has to do with it"? Detroit Free Preu. ? , HISTORY OF A SONG. Will S. Hays, of Louisville, Ky., has made a small fortune by writing songs. Among his popular compositions are "Mollie Darling," "Norah O'Neal" and "Evangeline." But he got no money from the latter, though it gave him a start in his business. "Just before the war," he says, "I was with some young visitors up in Oldham county, Ky. Among them was a beautiful girl who resembled the ideal pictures of Longfellow's "Evangeline" so closely that I called ber by the name. We danced at an out-docr frolic one evening, and 90on discovered that four of us could sing together. We tried popular quartettes, and got along so well that we became enthusiastic. About 2 o'clock in the morning we started to walk home. The night was as bright as day, with the full moon banging in the sky, and as we walked we sang. We sat down in a nook to rest, and "Evangeline" began to suggest other songs to sing. "I'll write a song," said I, "if you'll promise to sing it before we go borne." This was agreed to. On the opposite side of the road was a white plank fence. Where we were sitting a party of negroes had been roasting ears of corn, and charred sticks lay all around. With them I wrote tbe brat verse of the song on die top plank of the fence, and the notes for four voices on tbe four planks beneath. Then we stood off and sang it The girls were delighted and insisted on having a chorus, so I wrote the chorus on the planks. Well, we sang it over and over, and went home singing it Next morning "Evangeline" came down stairs humming the air, and asked me to write it out and finish it. I told her I couldn't do it, but she might go down and copy it off tbe fence. She took an umbrella and a sheet of paper, and soon came back with words and music. Then she insisted on having another verse, so I wrote another yerae, on condition that I was to have a kiss for it, and she to have the music." Hays sent the composition to various music 'publishers, but couldn't sell it, and it was at length made public by the voice of Campbell, the negro minstrel. Three hundred thousand copies have been sold, but the kiss was the only pay the author has received. How xo Keep a Situation.?-The following bit of good advice is from the Working Man, and is worthy the attention of all our readers: Lay it down as a foundation rule, that you will be "faithful in that which is least." Pick up the loose nails, bits of twine, clean wrapping paper, and put them in their places. Be ready to throw in an odd half-hour or hour's time, when it will be an accommodation ; and don't seem to make a merit of it. Do it heartily. Though not a word be said, be sure your employer will make a note of it. Make yourself indispensable to him and he will lose many of the opposite kind before he will part with you. Those young men who watch the time to see the very second their working hour is up, who leave, no matter what state the work may be in, at precisely the instant?who cal culate the extra amount they can siigni meir work, and yet not get reproved?who are lavish of their employer's goods, will always be the first to receive notice that times are dull, and their services are no longer required. Electrical Horse.?Bicyclists look for ward to the time when every man shall wheel himself to and from business. But a French electrician has discovered a trick worth two of that. He has succeded in driving a trycycle?something like a lad's velocipede? for an hour along the streets of Paris by means of electricity stored in a secondary battery. The vehicle, with its occupant, weighed 400 lbs., and it was driven at the speed of an ordinary cab. By improving the mechanism the inventor hopes to raise this to 12 miles an hour. Here is a saddlehorse that eats nothing, costs next to nothing to keep, will not shy or run away, and can be kept in the house ready for use. Why the Milestones Didn't Face the Road.?A stranger, riding along the road, observed that all the milestones were turned in a particular way, not facing the road, but rather averted from it. He called to a countryman and inquired the reason. "God bless you," sir, replied the man "the wind is so strong sometimes in these parts, that if they weren't to turn the backs of the milestones to it, the figures woulfd be blown of them clear and clean."