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> VOLUME XXXVII. .CAMDEN, S. C'., DECEMBER 26,1878. NUMBER 24.
i ?p_?1 -- * * * __j ^ j_ u??. I j:_:? J:?.i__ n_:j:?i THE CAMDEN JOURNAI Published'Every Tkursda At CAMDEN, S. C.y BV G.G.ALEXANDER SUBSCRIPTION RATES. [In Advance.) One Year $2 0< Six Month* 1 21 DR. I. H. ALEXANDER, Dental Surgeon, GRADUATE OF THE PHILADELPHIA C0LLEG1 OF DENTAL 8UHGEKY. Office, Next door to County Treasurer't Office CAMDEN, S. C. drTtT berwick legare, DfclVTIST, GRADUATE OF THE BALTIMORE COLLEGI OF DENTAL SURGERY. nr?c?T<">f npciT Ti unrrs'R vcrivu Entrance on Broad Street Wm. D TRANTHAM, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BROAD STEET, CamoLen, S. O"j. T. HAY, ATTORNEY AT LAW AND Ti?ia! Justice Office over store of Messrs. Baum Bros. Special attention given to the collection of claims. J~W. DEPASS, r - ATTORNEY* AT LAW fcX " ' - _i. U Trial Justice. Ti slness of all kinds promptly transacted. W. L. DEPASS~ ATTORNEY AT LAW, CAMDEN, S. C. Will practice In all the State and Federal Courts. JanWtf T. U. ULA1VIS.JV, ATTORNEY AT LAW, 1 ,. CAMDEN, S. C*.. \ -L 3 Office?That formerly occupied by Capt. J. M. ravls. Jan29tf PHOTOGRAPHS I Mr. W. S. Alexander being in Camden on a short visit, will open his Gallery for the accommodation of his many friends and f irmer patrons. Ho is prepared to take as fine Photographs as can be made in the State. Copying and enlarging also done in the best style. He has on hand a splendid assortment of Picture Frames, Chromos, etc., for sale at the lowest cash prices. Give him a call. " FREDERICK J. HAY, Architect and Builder, . CAMDEN, S. C., Will furnish plana and estimates for all kinds of buildings. Contracts taken at moderate figures, and promptly and care fully aiieuuea 10. Orders left at the CaxDxx Jocbnal office will receive immediate attention. Marchltf JOHN C. WOLbT, PLAIN, ORNAMENTAL, AND 8IGN PAINTER, Paper Hanger ft Glazier, CAMDEN, S. C. sept23_12m ? . Riddle's Hotel, LANCASTER C. H.f S. C. Having purchased the Hotel formerly occupied UQIH ofrp^f T t?y Mr. Jones ctockch, ?, . era prepared to receive transient and permanent t-oarders. Good accommodations at reasonable rates. Ptables and Lots free to drovers. janlSlf J. M. RIDDLE, Be Snre to Stop at the Latham House, CAMDEX, S. . (Transient Board, $2.00 per dat.) :o: JgyAmple accommodations. Tables supplied with the best the Markets afford. Every attention paid lo the comfort of Guests. Persons stopping at the Latham House will be conveyed to and from the depot free of charge. Passengers, without L heavy baggage, will be conveyed to and from anv Dart ?f the town, not above De Kalb street, at 25 cents. 0?"Connected with the house is a first class Bar, which is located separately from the house, and orderly kept. JgjrConveyances supplied to guests on liberal terms, either for city or country use. jan80y S. B. LATHAM, Proprietor. ^-9 Watched S3 to $7. UtToWrrt?^gC 12.50. Orer 100 latest CT.%0 Al'UtUMl. S0.Sttppi7Cs.NuiirUie.TniB. V ^ BOOTS, SHOES, &C. The undersigned respectfully informs his friends and the public generally that h< may still be found at his shop, one dooi west of the postofiice, where he is preparec 4- ~*1.. In V? A TTiAot Otwlicf io execute pruuipuj uuu >u >ut mw and durable manner alt jobs that may b< given him. He will also make or repaii harness, or in fact anything else in hii line. He only solicits a call. ISAAC YOXJNG. Aug* 6?tf. * S. "WOLFE~ CHEAP DRY GOODS STORE ALSO, Buys and pays the highest market pric for green and dry cow hides, sheep, foi otter, mink, raccoon and rabbit skim Also, rags, wool, tallow, beeswax, old iroi brass, copper, Ac. janltf Water-Purifying Chain Purri| Acknowledged to be superior to any othc pump known. No valves to get out of 01 der. Bucket and chains made of galvat ized maleable iron. The foulest watt made pure by the use of this pump. 1 feet orless". $K); eneh additional foot, C cents. This pump may be examined at th Latham House. jan8-tf LATHM & PERKINS. boot maker; W. C. Young, having opened a shop on Brou Stre?t, one door below R. J. McCrelghtA Sor Gin Factory, In Mr. G. S. Douglas* old store, I inectfully solicits the patronage of the public, will ma** or repair .--a Bootes Shoes, Harness &c On the shortest notlbe and in the most durab HOW LITTLE WE KNOW OF | I EACH OTHER. < How little we know of each other t As we pass through the journey of life, t With its struggles, its fears and tempta- t tions, . c ' Its heart-breaking cares and its sirife. We can only see things on the surface, , For few people glory in sin, * , And an unruffled face is no index t To the tumult which rages within; 1 ! How little we know of each other 1 v The man who to-day passes by, Bless'd with fortune and honor and titles, ' And holding his proud head so high, u May carry a dead secret with him U Which makes of his bosom a hell, f And he, sooner or later, a felon, May writhe in a prisoner's cell. ^ How little we know of each other ! That woman of fashion who sneers tl At the poor girl betrayed and abandoned, And left to her sighs and her tears, t| May, ere the sun rises to-morrow, Have the mask rudely torn from her face, And sink from the height of her glory P To the dark shades of shame and disgrace. fj How little we know of each other! Of ourselves, too. how little we know ! We ore all weak when under temptation, > t( All subject to error and woe, p Then let blessed charity rule us? ^ Let us put away envy and spite? Or the skeleton grim in our closet 8 May some day be brought to the light. si oi "A WINTER LILY." || Mow Year's eve ! A clear, beautiful night, with the *' least touch of frost in the delicious air, and a brilliant iodign sky, thickly stud- . ded with stars, like sparks of flame. ^ In a small, ptafc room on tb? upper most floor of a six tory tenement, a pale, petite yountr lady stood at the window thoughtfully watching the motion and glitter in the street below. Pj On a couch on the other side of the ^ apartmrnt lay a wpak-faced woman, evideu'ly ill, or, what is worse, thought herself so.. And, in troth, Mrs. Maria ^ Garll was ouc of those dependent, clinging, unambitious creatures whom the world pities sometimes, and despises al- . ways. She had been reared in that unenviable grade of society known as , "geDteel poverty"?that peculiar, superficial class whose heads and hearts a*e as empty us their stomachs, and whose gilded idleness is poorly suggestive of , Solomon's lilies," inasmuch as neither one nor the otb?r toils Dor- spins. At m twenty she bad sold herself to a rich old Cii husband, whose childless widow she had been for years. Mrs Carll. who could not make her own caps no more than ' she could earn them, and who could not Mil a mortgage from a love letter, woke up one fatal morning and found herself , us p>oor as she had been in the days of her girlhood. She felt that the only role of life left, her was that of an "in. ~ tcrcsting invalid in reduced circum- ; stances," and she assumed it accordingly. It was a crushing blow, my dear Mrs. e Grundy, I assure you, aDd I shall Dever 1 recover from it?never,' she was wont j5' to ?ay, pathetically, behind her handkercbiefofwom and ane'eot lace. P' On thisN-w Year eve she awoke from - cli.mhar nnd saw her niece. ?l |!I UlUia^vu gautwv 'f ?..? , Linnie, standing pale and pensive beside tbe window, blurred by the deiicate 8* Frost tracery of tbo early nigbr, 'Have you made up your mind yet, Linnie ?' she inquired fretfully. 'I?I have not, aunty,' faltered the ^ young girl, sighing as she turned from the window and paused before a large glass vase, in which a magnificent Spanish lily had just burst into bloom. For . Linnie, those greeu, rich leaves and the . odor of the creamy flower aroused the memory of a love sweeter than life and w enduring as mortality itself. j It was on one delicous April morning that Eric Warford brought her the ^ young bulb with its green loaf-plants just breaking through the sand and water of the cyrstal jar, and bade her tend ^ it carefully in memory of him. They ^ were not quire so poor then as they now 1 were. They had pretty rooms, and she ^ had plenty of work coloring photographs ^ - -e ! in a dingy pretension 01 a siuuiu, nutio , she Fang all day long and dreamed hap- ^ py dreams of her lover and her future j. when she should be his wife. It was spring then, and the days were loot: and warm, and she was satisfied with life and all it might brinir, dfspite ^ the peevish and enternal repining* of j | her burdensome relative ^ * It was winter now. and the days were , I brief and dark, with storm and trouble i She bad no work, and the last penny of 9 her earnings was gone, A.U her hand- a r some dresses and precious trinkets were in the pawnshop. The last coal was I dying out in the grate, and the last c crumbs in the cupboard would not have ' fed "the one sparrow for whom God c careth." Of Erie Warford she bad not heard ( since the day on which ho had brought ' e her the souvenir flower. He might bo untrue, or he might be d*ad, or the ' s* haughty and eccentric old grandfather J '* might have cajoled him into some love less, selfish marriage. ? ? . f*. , ^ j 'JL>on t bo uneasy about me iuiure, r i little one,' Erie had said at parting, 'the * J old gentleman has never refused me any- I thing, and he will not oppose me Be- i ;r riously ic such a momentous matter as 0 marriage. Before this lily flowers you 1 ? shall be my wife, and he will teqajte as ie proud and >fond of you as he iB intfuK gent to me.' _ But that was verv long ago; and as she thought of rhc inexplicable absence and silence of months, a big tear like a i>8 diamond d-'wdrop fell and flashed into j the heart of the b'ossoni. I She hud anothor suitor now?a wooer old and -dd and rich and persistent. ' 'Yon ar" a sensible y> ung woman, ile M'-s L orile/ he said one day. *'andj j therefore) 1 thiuk, not pleased with ' jretty speeches. On withered lips ar? lent love is a burlesque; besides our iristocraoy does not believe in any emoion whatever. Passion is iguored by he ton?a marriage of affection is riliculoos." Linnie looked at bim curiously. Was ic satirical, diplomatic, or simply rer?ose 1 What did the queer twinkle in lis jolly blue eyes mean ? He went on : 'I need a wife. I have chosen a lady rho is young, good looking, dutiful and rould make my home pleasant. The lay she becomes my wife I shall settle ipon her, unconditionally, one*halfmy ortune. What do you say, Linnie V 4I ?' faltered the girl, pink from the ands of her dark hair to the rufflo of he simple tulle that circled her pretty hroat., '1 hare chosen you, Miss Linnie,' was he business like rejoinder. 'You wish to buy me ?' she inquired, alipg with sudden anger. Mr. Gilmour laughed in his jolly ishion, being neither hurt nor offend* J. 'It is the mode nowadays for hearts ) be bought and sold. Is there one ure and perfect love marriage in a cenjry, my girl ? I should be kind to you Iwoys, Linnie. In our case, there lould be no pretty pathetic romance f the icicle freezing the rose and all int. Brtrt nf nnnconmi. Think it OVer? link it over, child. I will speak to your jnt, and you can decide?to-morrow 'ening. if Dot too soon.' : And the hour had come and her desion was not made, and her aunt was trious. 'You have not made up your mind ?t, you say ??and Mr. Gilmour ex?cted an answer immediately. I snp>se you mean to refuse him,' quavered Jrs. Carll. 'and I must go on living lis sort of life, starving and freezing. long as I stay in this cold, ungratei! world, which woD*t he long. After 1 I've done for you, Linnie, how can >u be so cruel ?so positively wicked !' 'Don't aunty,' returned Linnic, laint, her delicate form quivering as if om a Mow, and another scalding tear oppea into the heart of the lily. ^ You thankless and unreasonable creaire,' snapped Mrs. Carl!. 'Did T not ke you when you were an ^trphaned, ilf starved baby and bring you up as y own ? Have I not clothed and eduited yon and given you a home ?' The beneficent woman uttered these aestions glibbly, as she ought, for she id asfed them every day for the last renty years. Linnie was silent and bcr heart was tter. The most common servant would arcely have cared for the sort of life innie had led with the capricious Mrs. aril. Yet like nil noble souls, Linnie had taggernted every deed of real kind;ss, and in her gratitude-forgot the ?tty wrongs, the senseless tyranny and ic unjust burden of responsibility in> Dsed upon her young: life. 'What have I not done for you, Mcnda ? Are you deaf that you stand tere like a 6tone idiot and never anver 7 Will you marry Mr. Gilmour. or ill you refuse him and let your poor d sick aunt lie here and die of despair id poverty ?' And then the sobs began to come, and ie pleaded as only such a woman for ich a cause can plead. 'O, be merciful, my dear child. It ill save my life, and it will be a blessig to you. Mr. Gilmour is an exceponably fine man, and once his wife you ould want for nothing.' And thus she persuaded and expostuted, until the girl almost yielded. 'Surely Erie Warford has nothing to o in causing you to hesitate.' i rTcnrnf tiin rr ' nnatvprr-d T.innifi. JLi * VI J uuu < v* - v* 'Melinda, I am ashamed of you.' cried er relative, roused into a fnry of sham ismay. , 'Hav? you no self-respect that on still care for one who has treated ou so infamously ?' 'He may be dead, aunty.' Dead ! What a silly lunatic you arc 3 be sure ! Erie may hove a rich grandathcr, whom he will find it profitable o please in marrying. But it is proDUndly pvident to me that when the, oung man left you he did not intend o return. He is just the sort of man o amuse himself in a flirtation of this ind. For gracious sake don't let Mr. Hlmour suspect anything of it.' The girl turned, her dark eyes afire J L__ J l.? nu ncr ueuuuie curc&o auauiu. 'I shall tell Mr. Gilrnour,' she em* >hatically declared; 'and then if he still lesires uie for a wife, I will marry him.' She had scarcely uttered her sudden lecision when her elderly suitor came. The gentleman looked curiously ioubtful and anxious. Perhaps his old aeart was not an icicle after all ! 'Then I can never hope that you will ove me V he observed, after listening :o what Linoie had to tell him of Erie I! U1 IUtU. She turned upon him her proud, still, white Tace. Under that impassive mask she thought that to the day of her death she could carry a passion-haunted heart. 'UeggiDg your pardon,' she replied 'was not this to be a business transaction only ?' He smiled at the ready response. 'Which we must discuss and arrange in a sure and proper way.'Mn said, and made his departure only hal pleased. Shortly after various and costly arti clcs lor a superb feast were sent up t< the little room. 'We shall have our New Year's din ner,' said Mrs. Carll delighted, an< that night her dreams were those of t!:< graiifietfTiijdhflclfatttisfied. W' , Not so the young girl who lay Dy her side; for Linnje was wretchedly sleepless and remorsefully miserable, and all night through the duBk of the chamber her lily flower gleamed just as ghostly white ai her own troubled face. New Years morning ! And tbe merry bells poured out tbcir peals on the sweet crisp air. Beautiful women in furs and velvets and diamonds passed by to the palaces of worship, or the mansions of feasting. And yet every* where, even withiD the sound of those gleeful bells, thousands of hungry innocents shivered with cold, and thousands of homeless men and women could say with the persecuted one: "The foxes have holes, and the birdB of the air have nests, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head." I wonder if the ""world is ever as thankful for the good it has done as for the good it has received ? Linnie thought bitter things that morning. tAll her -life she had been hampered and fettered, and now she was the football of a destiny that it seemed impossible to avoid. Much as she esteemed Mr. Gilmour, she shrunk from such a soulless union with him as she would have done from any other thiog that desecrates womanhood. "0 ursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth ! "Uursed be t&e social nes mai wrap as irom the living truth !" Over and over again Linne quoted this anathema from 'Locksley Hall,' marveling if ever .she in the life to come should be strong and brave enough th 'drug her memories.' The New Year feast, that she had scarcely tasted, was ovey. and her rela-i live, taking her sitiUa in an easy-chair, when Mr. Gilinour cauie. Linnte shivered as she saw him. 'My dear child, do you repent yet of your promise ?' he asked her, kindly, 'A promise is to .me a sacred thing,' she replied .evasively.. 'Granted. But were Erie Warford still living?' 'He has broken his vows to me/ was the laconic response. 'Perhaps so. Perhaps he is living, and is true. Perhaps he is on his way to you even now.' She struggled to her feet, and fixed her startled eyes upon hi9 face. 'You have something to tell me,' she cried. 'What is it?' Jb'or answer, the gentleman opened the door and admitted Erlo Warford. '1 have-brought my grandsonrto call upon you, Miss Linnie,' he said. But the girl heard nothing eicept her lover's fond and passionate words, and saw nothing but his dear face, so unchanged and true. 'You forget yourself, Melinda,' observed Mrs. Oarll. greatly shocked, 'You are mistaken,' retorted Mr. Gilmonr ; 'Bhe forgot herself when she allowed you to direct her judgment and her heart. She would have gone to the altar like a lnmb to the sacrifice after you had convinced her it was her duty. You would have sold her to me that yo"o might live in idleness and selF-indulgence. Erie, don't be selfish ; I want to have a word with the littleone-' Linnie turned and put out both her pretty hands, with a little gesturo of coaxing deprecation. 'Forgive me, child,' he began, before she could speak ; 'I was bitterly disappointed when Eric refused to marry a rich womao whom I had chosen for him. Finally I made conditions with him. He was to stay thcro, looking to my business, while I was to come here and see you. If you proved to be o"l Yin rnrvrncnnfnrl T norpoA tsi trWhdmw "" -f ? _ my objection. The boy believed you so true that no length of silent absence could make you forget or accept another, ch.? But, my child, I never had a thought of allowing you to sacrefice yourself, and I am very fond and proud of you, my children.' So they were all happy except Mrs. Carl!, who considered herself the most vastly ubuscd of all womankind. 'This is the hnppirst New Year of my life,' said Liunie's handsome young lover, after they wore all calm again. And, by-tbe?wav, I fancy this lovely lilv kent back its blossom for my rc * turn. It should have bloomed weeks ago. Did it, too, with my love, whisper 'I wait?' Was it a long waiting, dear V 'Very long?very sorrowfully long,' she returned ; and a tear, for past unrest and presont bliss, dropped again into the white heart of the winter lily. A Vale of Tragedies. Only two or three miles from Mentone, in a valley traversed by the famous Co'rnici road, there is a spot which the Debafs describes in eloquent and pathetic terms. It is "isolated, wild, far AmAfiflil fmm nntr nnimnfpd rpnf.rfl Ib'illV'VVi II VUI Mi.j V..... - , Only a few stunted pines grow up from the clefts in the slaty rock. The aridii ty of the place is complete. A horrible i silence reigns in it which is hardly in* terruptcd by the cries of ill omened , birds or by the crocks of the muleteer's - whips as thoy pass along-the road. Here nature is dcad4 |pd the abrupt gorges around- justify the "lugubrious jgurpOHfa ibr which the spot has bee"n 5 chosen.' For this is the valley called f' Mortola, and hrrc it is that the affairs of hoDor of the neighboring French heroes r.re decided with the aid n! i) sword or pistol. '"Can toy reader," ask? the Debuts, "guess what drumatic scene - has lately been enacted in this volley ! 3 Etidently not; and tbeu follows i e touching description of the cerribh t Jtragedy* Twojouug man, inhabitant* or ice, ana once rnumaie menus, out "separated by the ardent passion which each of them had for a lady," had agreed to have a hostile meeting with pistols in the lugubrious valley already described. They met, aod had for some time beeD discharging their firearms at one another without any inconvenient result, when they were startled by the tolling of the neighboring chapel bell. They interrupted their terrible work and began to meditate upon the wickedness of angry passions. "Then appered upon the scene an unexpected witness. It was the clergyman of the aforesaid chapel," whose counsels promptly reconciled the two quandam friends, and who, as it appears, hue reconciled many pairs of duelists in the same way. As soon as the report of firearms rings through the valley of death the good man always sets bis bell tolling and hurries to the scene. One is tempted to think that this humane practice is pretty well known at Nice and some other places, and that the pugnacious young bloods who repair to the Mortola Valley are not always so mightily surprised to hear the sound of the chapel bell and to see the "unexpected witness" appear on the scene. There must, however, very often be an auxious period of suspense while the first few shots are being exchanged, lest a too clumsy champion should hold his pistol straight and shoot his adversary incontinently before the "benefit of clergy" is obtained. ? London Glohe. : Anxious to Wed. The afternoon service had ended and the consrcgation were arranging themselves for tho benediction, when the parson descended from the pulpit to the desk below, and said, in a calm, clear voice :* 'Those wishing to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony will now pfease come forward.' A deep stillness instantly fell ovor the congregation, broken only by the rustling of silk as som9 pretty girl or aD excited matron changed her position to catch the first view of the couple to be married. No one. however, arose or seemed in the least inclined to rise; whereupon the worthy clergyman, deeming the first notice unheard or understood, repeated the invitation : 'Those wishing to be united in tbo holy bonds of matrimony will fair pleaso come forward.' Still no one stirred. The silence became audible, and a painfnl sense of ? ?AmA?i? rlinoo nrdo^f vol nw^naiuiicao auiuu^ wivow ^ivevu*^ felt, when a young man, who occupied a vacant seat in the broad aisle during the services, slowly arose and deliber- i ately walked to the foot of the altar. He ! was good looking and well dressed, but no ono accompanied him. When he 1 arrived within a respectful distance of the clergyman he paused, and with a reverent bow, stepped to one side of the altar, but neither said anything or seemed at all disconcerted at the idea of being married alooe. The clergyman looked anxiously around for the bride, who, he supposed, was yet to arrive, and at length remarked to the !young man in an unaerione : 'The young lady is dilatory.' | 'Yes. sir.' 'Had you better not defer the ceremony ?' I 'I think not.' 'Do you suppose she will be here |soon 'I, sir ?' said the young man; 'how should I know of the young lady's movements ?' A few moments were allowed to elapse in this unpleasant Btate of expectancy, when the clergyman renewed his inter" rogations. 'Did the lady promise to attend at the present hour ?' 'What lady ?' 'Why the lady, to bs sure, that you am waiting for.' 'I did not hear her say anything about it,' was the unsatisfactory response. 'Then, sir, may I ask you why you are here, and for what purpose you thus trifle in the sanctuary of the Most High ?' said the somewhat enraged clergyman. 'I came, sir, simply because yoa invited those wishing to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony to step forward, and I happened to entertain such a wish. I am sorry to have misunderstood you and wish you, a very good da j.' Mistletoe at Christmas-tide. The hanging of the mistletoe is a cause of much frolic and laughter in the house. It is the rule that whoever is passing under the mistletoe bough must submit to being kissed then and there by whoever chooses to take that liberty. 4 '? knrir.a frf>m the Cen ./1H a UUUiill UOUUIIJ ter of the ceiling, spreading over a largo space, it follows that there must be much dodging or much kissing; I am inclined to think that there are both. The origin of this use of the mistletoe is not knowD; but we do know that more than eighteen hundred years ago, when the glad stars sang together over the manger in Bethlehem, and wiso men brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to a young child in the peasant mother's arms, England was a chill, mist " Covered island inhabited only by saviI troB. who wote garments of skins and r* ? lived in huts of mud and stone. Among those savage Britons there were pagno F priests called Druids. These priests i were a mysterious folk, who lived in > dense woods far nway from other men. ' and who, in the gloomy solitudes of the i forest, performed strange secret cerem ! i.ies The "sacred groves," as they were a called,' were of oak, for the oak was a * uivuic tree, uucurutug w tuu x/ruiuitui religion. Within these sacred groves, the priests, it is recorded in history, ( offered their sacrifices, and in some man- | ner not known, they employed tho mis* ( tletoe. But all the mistletoe was not sacred to the Drdids. They would have ( none but that which clung to the trunk ( and was nourished by the sap of the divine oalc. To them, the apple*tree | mistletoe, which modern England -uses so in her holiday festivities, would be a ; worthless and common thing. ( When, in later centuries, England , was taught the Chqstian religion by the priests who went hither from Rome, the f people, though professing a belief in Christ, retained many of their heathen rites and customs, changed from their original meaning and purpose. At any rate, from the Druids has come the modern usage of the mistletoe bough strangely preserved in festivities which commemorate the birih of Him whose pure worship destroys all heathen superstition.?^. Nichotus. .* . .'ft . * c Changes of Life. ( Change is the common feature of 1 society?of life. . Ten years convert the population of schools into men and women, theyouog r into fathers and matrons make and marry fortunes, and bury the last gen- 1 eration but one. jlwcuij yisaio uuuvcro iui4uid iiiiu lover?, fathers and mothers, decide ^ men's fortunes and distinctions, convert active men and women into loathsome crawling drivelers, and bury all pre- ? ceding generations. Thirty years raise an active genera- c tion from nonentity, change fascinating 1 beauties into bearable eld women, convert lovers into grandfathers and bnry the active generation or reduce them to descrepitnde and imbecility. f Forty years, alas! changes the face ? of all society. Infants are growing old, 1 the bloom of youth and beauty has pass- e ed away, two active generations have 1 been swept from the stage of life, names ^ are forgotten, unsuspected candidates 1 for fame have started up from the ? womb of nature. 1 And in fifty years?nature, ripe fifty e years?half a centnary?what tremendous changes occur ! How time writes ! ber sublime wrinkles everywhere, in ? rock, river, forest and cities, hamlets, 1 villages in the nature of men, and deistiniesof of civilized society!? Let us pass on to eighty years?and what dp we desire to see*to comfort us in the world. Owf parents have gone ; our children have passed sway from us into all parts ef the world, to fight the grim and desperate battle of life. Our old friends ?where are they ? We behold a world of which we knew nothing and to which we are unknown. We weep for generations long gone by?for lovers, for parents, for cildren, for friends in the grave. We see everything turned upside down by the fickle hand of fortune, and the abfldfate destiny of time. In a word, we behold the vaoity of life, and are quite ready to lay down the poor burden and be gone. The Charity of Extravagance. i . vv benever tno laooring men are out of employment they begin to hate the rich; They feel that the dwellers in palaces, the riders in carriages, the wearers of broadcloth, silk and velvet, have in some way been robbing them. As a matter of fact the palace builders are the friends of labor. The best form of charity is extravagance. When yon give a man money, when yqu toss him a dollar, although you get nothing, the man loses his manhood. To belp others help themselves is the only real charity. There is no use in boosting a man who is not climbing. Whenever I see a splendid home?a palace?a magnificent block, I think of the many thousands who were fed?of women and children clothed, of the firesides made happy. A rich maD living up to his privileges, having the best house, the best furniture, the best horses, the finest grounds. the most beautiful flower*, the best clothes, the best food, the best pictures, and all the books that ho cao afford, is a perpetual blessing. The prodigality of the rich is the providence of the poor. The extravagance of wealth makes it possible for the poor to save. The rich man who lives according to his means, who is extravagaut in the best and highest sense, is not the enemy of labor. The miser who lives in a hovel,, wears rags and hoards his gold, is a perpetual curse. He is like one who dams a river at its source. The momeot hard.times come, the cry of economy is raised. The press, the platform and pulpit unite in recom* mending economy to the rich. In conc Al ?r sequence 01 mis cry, vue uiau ui ir?im discharges servants, sells his horses, allows his carriage to become a hen-roost, and after taking employment and food from as many as he can, congratulates himself that he has dono his part to* wards restoring prosperity to the country.?R. Cr. Jngersoll. Extraordinary Ingenuity.?An I ingenious Russian gaming house was re? ccntly pounced upon by the police near Moscow, several of the habitues who had lost so largely as to suspcet foul play having informed the authorities. On examining the rooms it was found that the ceilings were covered with papers A xkomtn tf HAIAO tVAm reprercunuj; a oiaiijr c?j. &xu>cg nv?^ pierced in stars, through which a man lying on the floor of the upper room Could see the cards of the players, and by means of wires running down the walls, he could communicate with the boot of his accomplice, and iodioate their play by-a code of upa. ' ~ 1 % AUVIlMiaiHH ftME8. ? - ? Tim. 1 in. J col. . i col.> 1 col. 1 week,$l 00 ' $5 00 $0-00- $15 00 _ 2 " 1 75 7 50 12 25 20 00 ' J ii o An o nn is 95 -<24 00- < - 4 " 3 00 10 50 18 00 27-60 ? 5 " 3 50 11 75 20 50 81 00^ B " 4 00 12 50 22 75 34 00 7 " 4 50 13 25 24 75 87 00 B " 6 00 14 00 26 00 40 00 3 mos 6 60 17 00 32 00 60 00 i " 7 50 19 00 39 60 69 00 6 " 8 50 24 00 48 00 * 84 00 9 " 9 60 30 00 59 00: 106 00 12" 10 25 35 00 68 00 120 00 tr Transient advertisements mast be &ccosainted with the cash to Insure insertion. Woman. 1 ' y A woman in a neighborhood is only jxcecded by another woman. She can ove truer or hate worse than the men )f ordinary calibre. She can make a home a little heaven >r a little bell, on less capital than any )ther business can be carried on. t 11J \\ sne can maice a ten or nunarea aouar sill go op, 0 ! so quick. She can drive a man oat of a house, f her tongue be working all right, quicker than Beast Butler could get iway with a set. of spoons. She is better than pine or stone coal 'or keeping a neighborhood boiling hot ind homo more unendurable than a burn )n jour first thumb joint, all the time naking you think she is. a package of refined innocence, a saint, a favorable ingelio advertising agent for Gabriel. Sbe can kiss another woman sweeter ind then talk about ber worse than one . )f these Reform Republicans can talk ibout tho President. And she knows more by intuition of ill the affairs of tho neighborhood than jlrant knows about bis relations or the )ost office presents he receives, or is to I She can be nicer to a woman she lates than a carpct-bag politician is to a 1 lcgro before he bas voted. She can walk further to display a new Iress than a loyal or disloyal contraband :ould travel for chickens in the? night. And God love her, if she loves a man ' ho will stick to him longer than ths ? 3eot family will to the immortal Ulysses. . Like dollars, good women arc hard to ;et, hard to keep, bothersome to look ifker, but here is a coqnundrum : How :an we gee along without them ??Brick Porruroy. Quick Work. A farmer and bis wife, named Lawon, at Carrolton, Missouri, having ac'imnlishn^ Mi* unppdv nf fnrni?h? ng invited guests with bread baked ia * light and a quarter minates from th? , ime the wheat was standing in the., ield, determined this year to oatdo hemselves. They accordingly made ilaborate preparations for reaping, breshing, grinding and baking the rrain. : * : *. In one minute and fifteen seconds a >eck of wheat was cat and threshed, md borne away on the back of a swift jorse to the mill, sixteen rods away. In wo minutes and seventeen secoads, Mrs. Lawton bad the floor in her possession, lod in three minutes, forty seconds from he starting of the reaper, the first grid* lie cake was baked. In four minutes r md thirty seconds from tbe starting of he reaper, a pan of biscuits was disributed among the guests, Remarkably [uick work, and exceedingly amusing, n view of what can be done to hurry ip matters. What a beautiful chance or grumbling in the morning would >e lost if this speed could be made with svery article ot food for the morning neal! Why it would be a scene of nagic, when tbe steak, coffee, etc., vould need only be called for, and lo I hey are waiting to be consumed. Horrible Aooidents. The othet day the Free Press confined and account of a peculiarly itrange and horrible accident that occurred in Pittsburgh, by which Z. E. Fisher lost his life. A redbot wire piere* jd him through the body. JTbia odd ae? cident was spoken of by the Pittsburgh papers as being without parallel. Yet sfwAnrrA no if mOTf OnnOOf rtft fliof. VAPtf Jviau^o BO AW UIWJ M ?/ ) vu VMWV ? V? J Jay a similar horror occurred at Corn* ing's iron works, in Troy, N. Y. William Smith stumbled against a wire which was almost at a white heat. It burned into his body, and when be sprang back in agony the seething end 3truck him in the month; burnt its way through his cheek and coiled itself like a glowing snake around the doomed man's head. Anything more horrible ihan such an accident could hardly be tmagined. A new swindle, called the 'fig racket,' is being practiced on railroad trains. The news agent marks out some unsophisticated looking passenger in the ? ? mam An/J AMnMAMfthAa kim ?r 11 It 9UIUJVlUj? Uil OUU applUUWUCO IJIUJ TT11/14 several boxes of figs. Into nno of these boxes he puts a two dollar bill neatly folded. He then puts the boxes behind him, changes them about several times and offers his victim a choice of boxes for one dollar. As the victim examines the boxes ho sees the corner of the bill sticking out from under the cover of one of '.hem, and can hardly get the dollar out quick enough, and , when he buys the box he finds himself with a box of figs worth fifteen cents and tbo little comer or a ten-cent shinplaster. The piece of shinplaster is called the 'flash,' and the trick is worked with books as well as figs. 'Sapper is now ready in the smoking car," shouted the breakman, and a young man from Hartford who was on his way to San Francisco, got up and went forward to see what the brakemau meant. He went into the smoking car and found a party of Bavarian emigrants cooking two kinds of choese and three denominations of sausages on the stove. He came out very pale and gave the brakeman half a bollar to stand on the platform and burn matches under his nose. 'Was it very bad ?' an old gentleman asked him, when he returned to the coach. 'Sir," said the young man of Hardford, 'you'll never smell any-; thing like it until yon have been dead about six months."?Burlington Hawk* A country seat?A split-bottom chs r h tho Jroot yard* 1, . * .