Newspaper Page Text
The Greoi-o-ia Weekly
v
THE TELEGRAPH.
MACON, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1869.
In Dresden there is said to be an iron egg,
the history of which is something like this: A
young Prince sent this iron egg to a lady to
whom he was betrothed. She received it inher
hands and looked at it with disdain. In her in
dignation that he should send her such a gift,
she cast it to the earth. 'When it touched the
ground * spring, cunningly hidden in the egg,
opened, and a silver yolk rolled out She
touohed a secret spring in the yolk, and a gold
en .chicken was revealed; she touched a spring
in the chicken and a crown was found within;
she touched a spring in the crown, and within it
was found a diamond wedding ring. There is
a moral to this story, and that is, it will not do
to trust “outward appearances."
The German Flag.—The new German flag
does not seem to meet with much favor. It is
composed of three horizontal stripes of black,
white and red, in equal widths. The war flag
for the navy is black, St. George’s cross on a
white field, with the mercantile tricolor in the
upper corner. The postoffioe flag is like the
latter, with the addition of a curled post horn in
the lower corner. The mail packets are obliged
by an absurd order to carry this postoffice flag
as their national flag. The steamship companies
are very indignant at the order.
The National Banks.—A Washington letter
says: “It is believed that at the next session
of Congress the national banking act will re
ceive a thorough overhauling, and that greater
restrictions will be imposed upon the banks.—
Some of them, especially in large cities, are
known to have violated the act of Congress to
such an extent as to warrant the Secretary of
the Treasury in taking away their charters. No
action, however, will be taken until Congress
meets, when the whole question will be opened
up by petitions from merchants and others who
have suffered from the conduct of the banks in
using their funds for speculative purposes.”
A box containing 21 bales of cotton was burn
ed at the depot of the Montgomery and West
Point Railroad, at Montgomery, on Monday.
But one bale of the cotton was saved undam
aged, and about one-half the balance is said to
have been rescued in a damaged condition. The
door of the car was open, and it is supposed the
fire was communicated by a spark from a pass
ing locomotive. The Mail understands the en
tire train would probably have been burnt but
for the use of one of the patent fire extinguish
ers.
More Rolling Stock fob the Brunswick and
Albany Railroad.—The Savannah News, of
Tuesday, says a large and magnificently built
passenger car, drawn by ten splendid mules,
passed our office yesterday morning en route
for the Brunswick and Albany Railroad. It is
a substantial and faithful exposition of the work
of Southern (Georgia) mechanics, and will ma
terially strengthen the road for which it has
been built.
Hawkinsville Cotton Market.—The Dis
patch, of yesterday, says prices are about the
same, with a slightly upward tendency. Below
will be found the shipments by railroad and re
ceipts at the warehouse for the week ending the
19th instant: Bales
Shipments to date by railroad 198
Receipts to date at warehouse 81
Total receipts 279
A Washington dispatch says: Mr. E. B.
Washbume, Minister to France, estimates that
$15,000 in gold will be required to meet his con
tingent expenses in Paris during the next fiscal
year. His salary amounts to §17,500. There
are not wanting those who, in view of this hand
some estimate, rather sarcastically recall the
vehement speeches on economy delivered by
him in tho House of Representatives.
A New York Judge has directed the Grand
Jury to inquire if the recent gold combination
in Wall street was not a violation of the law,
making it a criminal offence for twenty or more
persons to conspire together to commit any act
injurious to trade or commerce. The New York
Times backs this up by calling on the Grand
Jury to indict the Gold Ring.
The Santa Barbara (CaL) Press says: J.
Swift, Esq., of Montecito, has raised oats this
year ten feet /ugh, tcith heads two feet long, and
almost a pint of oats to the head. Being in
formed that “oats never do well” in this region,
he sowed on three different parts of the ranch,
and at different times. The results are almost
marvelous, that is, for a country so unfavor
able to the oat crop!
The Government land surveys along portions
of Gila River, in Arizona, recently disclosed
ruins of elaborate structures bearing evidence
of an obliterated race that apparently possessed
considerable knowledge of arts and manufac
tures, and the sands themselves seem to have
been under cultivation for centuries.
The total number of graves of Federal sol
diers who died in the late civil war now record
ed in the printed forms published by the United
States Quartermaster's Department amounts to
about 193,000. There yet remain to be printed
the records of about 120,000 graves, making an
aggregate of 300,000, of which the name of 100,-
000 occupants will probably nevor be known.
Blue Ridge Railroad.—Tho Knoxvtllo Press
and Herald says: “ A part of the engineers who
were engaged on tho survey of the Blue Ridge
Road arrived in the city yesterday, and will, in
a few days commence a survey from this end of
the line, and meet the party that are now sur
veying this way from South Carolina.”
The Emigrant.—This is the title of a new
paper, published inBoston, called The Emigrant.
It is the organ of. the New England Emigration
Bureau, and has for its object the encourage
ment of emigration from the North and from
Europe to the Southern States of the Union.
“ From the Ogeechee.—Tho Savannah News
Bays the annual stealing on the Ogeechee has
commenced with the negroes; they entered the
store of Henry Gwinn, nt Wadeville, a few
nights since, and carried off every article of
groceries that they could lay their hands on.
West Georgia Gazette.—We are glad
chronicle that this sterling journal is still in the
full career of a successful prosperity. Talbot,
ton is one of the richest sections of the State,
and a dime invested there will return a hundred
fold. •' m **' ; 1 •''• '••
The young men of Wilkes county are to have
'a grand tournament on Saturday, 30th October,
when the victor will win the prize of a fine
horse, as well as the privilege of crowning the
Queen of •Love and Beauty. *
It is reported, says the Charlotte (N. C.) Bul
letin, that Generals Wade Hampton and D. H.
Hill are negotiating for the purchase of the Mill
tary Institute, to reopen it as a first class South
ern institution. ., • -uisXrtil
The fin-back whales recently paid a visit to
Boston harbor.
The State Fair.
It is obvious that a judicious arrangement of
all the complicated details of an exhibition so
extensive as we hope the Georgia State Fair will
be, requires much system and method as well as
close attention and labor. The Tennessee State
Fair, we observe, had every class of the exhibits
under the direction of a. special committee,
which was constantly represented upon the
ground for weeks before the "exhibition. The
allotments of space and locality for each class
were agreed upon at a general meeting of these
committees, and each particular allotment was
then mapped out and fully subdivided among ex
hibitors according to their convenience and ne
cessities. Each department was under the sole
police and supervision of its appropriate com
mittee, and all conflicts between exhibitors were
adjusted by this committee, and the exhibitors
looked to it for every facility necessary to a pro
per exposition. Each committee kept its ac
counts and records, and the whole were responsi
ble to the Central Executive Committee and ac
ting under their general supervision.
As this business, on an extensive scale, is
somewhat new to Georgia, we may be held ex
cused for lack of prevision in all the cumbersome
and nnmerous details essential to the harmoni
ous working of the enterprise. We fear the Exec
utive Committee at its last meeting here omit
ted the appointment of some subcommittees
indispensable to order and dispatch of business,
and we think it would be well for a quorum of
them to gather again at an early day and as
certain the necessities of the exhibition, as time
shall develops them. Indeed, their authority
ought to be represented here in perpetual ses
sion now until the Fair is over. There must be
great care, system, close attention and inde
fatigable labor to work out satisfactory results.
TIio Factories to tlie Cotton.
Tho manufacturers of cotton goods in Europe
are devising plans whereby the factories can be
placed as near as possible to tho sources of sup
ply of the raw material. Thus the Lancashire
manufacturers are contemplating the removal of
their establishments from Manchester to the
British East Indies. Tho Marseilles journals,
also, are suggesting the transfer of the cotton
factories from the North of France, where they
are now concentrated, to the south of that coun
try, so as to be nearer the supply of Indian cot
ton, coming through the Suez Canal. As on il
lustration of the advantages of the cotton facto
ries being situated near the Mediterranean, itis
stated that during the past six months the Aus
trian port of Trieste received 14,3G3 bales from
Bombay, while Marseilles received only CC73
bales; and the cause of this disparity, it is as
serted, arises from the fact that the cotton man
ufactories of Austria are nearer to the coast
than those of Franco. The reduction of the
freight charges on tho raw cotton, as affecting
the cost of manufacture, has also been under
sideration in the United States, and the mer
chants of Memphis and other Southern cities
are invitiDg the co-operation of Northern capi
talists in the work of building factories as near
as possible to tho cotton field.—Charleston
New.
What advantages will American manufactur
ers enjoy when they adopt this policy! Here,
in tho South, they will not only find themselves
right along side of the cotton fields, bnt they
will also find far more economical and therefore
better water power. The cost of a single North
ern dam built to withstand the terrible pressure
of the ice gorges of that climate in the spring
will oftentimes construct the whole factory in
the South—dam and all. Hero, too, they will
have a far better climate and for a time, at
least, cheaper labor. Why should Northern
manufacturers hesitate to avail themselves at
once of these advantages ?
Mercer University.
Editors Telegraph : The following appears in
your paper of this morning:
Removal of Mercer University.—The Geor
gia Baptist Convention, at Greensboro, on Fri
day last, passed the following resolution, by a
vote of 65 to 5:
Resoleed, That it is the opinion of this Asso
ciation that the most efficient means of advan
cing the prosperity Of Mercer University, is to
forever discountenance the agitation of its re
moval from its present location.
The Georgia Baptist Convention has held no
session since April last, and will not hold anoth
er until next April. Its meetings are annual.
It was the “ Georgia Association,” one of the
constituent members of the State Convention,
that passed the above resolution.
It may be well to state in this connection, that
six or seven district associations have past votes
favoring the removal of the University.
I shall be obliged to the papers which pub
lished the above resolution if they will also pub
lish this explanation. E. W. Warren.
Macon, October 21. .. .-m.-
Iron-Clad* iu the Golf.
The Savannah Advertiser notices tho arrival
at Tybee, of the brig James Thompson, from
Philadelphia, with coal for the iron-clad Dicta
tor, which sailed from New York on Tuesday
last, and says tho monitor Puritan was also coal
ing in Philadelphia, and is now on her way to
Key West. These and active preparations at
he Northern Navy Yards, indicate that the Gov.
emmentis about concentrating a large naval
force in the Gnlf. The Advertiser also quotes
following from the New Orleans Picayune •
Ibon-Clads Away.—Wo learn, upon what wo
deem reliable authority, that orders have been
received by the officer in command of the iron
clad fleet lying just below this city, to proceed
with as little delay as possible, to Koy West, for
the purpose, as is alleged, of making such re
pairs as may be necessary. This fleet of five
fron-clads, it will be remembered, came here
from Mound City several weeks since, and the
Cabans here were quite jubilant, in the belief
that their arrival foreshadowed recognition to
the insurgents. Since the arrival of these ves
sels, boiler-makers and machinists have been
busily engaged at high wages repairing boilers
and engines, and everything has betokened an
intention on tho part of tho Government to send
tho fleet to sea. Tho order now to take the iron
clads to Key West for repairs looks, to say tho
least, suspicious, as they have been undergoing
repairs here ever since their advent, and New
Orleans is certainly a better place to lit up suck
vessels than Key West.
Tlic Ycrgcr Case—UnconstitntionnIHy
ol'tlic Reconstruction Acts.
A special to Charleston Daily News from
Washington, last Monday, says the Judges of
the Supreme Court decided on Saturday not to
render their decision in the Yerger habeas
corpus case nntil next Monday. The Republi
cans profess to know that the decision is made
up, and is adverse to the constitutionality of tlie
Reconstruction laws. The Chronicle of to-day
thinks that all of the judges, except Justices
Swayne, Miller and Greer, are against the con
stitutionality of the law, and is of opinion that
if the decision be adverse, tho President will at
once call Congress together and not wait for the
December session.
A newly married man down East says if he
had. an inch more of happiness he could not
possibly live. His wife is obliged to roll him
on the floor and pat him with a brick bat every
4*1 to keep him froat being top happy. ;
The Radicals and the Supreme Court
A special to the Philadelphia Press from
Washington, 17th, probably dictated by Mr.
Fomey himself, holds this language upon the
expected decision of the Supreme Court iii the
Yerger case: -di.r.
Of course, nobody can' authoritatively fore
shadow the opinions of the Judges, but the be
lief is that they will stand five to three—Grier,
Swayne, and Sillier being against the exercise
of jurisdiction in the matter. It is to be re
gretted that Congress is not in session. The
effect of a decision against reconstruction—for
this is what the counsel of Yerger are looking for
—will probably constrain tho executive to some
extent to save unreconstructed States, like Mis
sissippi and Texas, from a worse fate, almost,
than the rebellion itself. His counselors are to
be found In a, Republican Congress and in a
patriotic people. Should the Supreme Court
assume extraordinary powers, ana attempt, in
utter defiance of all precedent, to overthrow the
lawn intended to .restore the revolted States
under republioan institutions to their relations
to the government,' the executive Congress
must ted a remedy for the evil.
For the Macon Telegraph. \
MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD.
BY SIDNEY HERBERT.
NO. 1—OUR MOTHER’S GOOD NIGHT.
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,'
That thou mighUst know me safe and warmly laid.
William Cowper.
The above couplet is taken from ,l Ltnes on
the Receipt of My Mother's Picture,” which
Robert Southey has called the most beautiful
poem in the English language. Perhaps no
similar production extant has touched so many
hearts, opened up such rich and tender remem
brances of childhood’s happy hours, and a fond
mother’s devoted tenderness and care.
Tell me, O son of a good mother, where can
you find two lines in any poem, previously writ
ten, that have the power to call up such deep
and tender emotions? We love to remember
the prayers of childhood, the hymns our mothers
taught our childish lips to repeat; but there is
a deeper, sweeter pleasure in the remembrance
of her nightly visits, after we had gone to bed,
to see that we were “safe and warmly laid.”—
That word “safe” had a greater meaning then,
children, than it has now, except in the country.
We lived more generally in wooden houses, and
had no gas lights to ensure the safety which to
day surrounds the little ones in their bed cham
ber. Nor were the houses, being built of wood
and standing alone, and thereby more exposed
to storm and wind, as warm and as comfortable
in those early days. How many eminent men,
like the Rev. Dr. Neale, remember with a manly
pride as well as a tearful tenderness, “the old
bnnk under the rafters,” and the “patter of the
rain,” on the thin roof close above their little
heads.
Ah, those were the days of true matofnal fond
ness and unwearied care of infancy and child
hood. Then tho anxious, devoted mother would
steal up to her dear boy’s little cot with a noise
less step, that she might not disturb his slum
bers, to see if he had put out the caudle without
dropping a spark on the floor, and gone to sleep
with all the bed clothes properly over and about
him. In my own home, which was in a city, I
never had such a bed-chamber as Rev. Dr.
Neale remembers iu his childhood; yet the ten-
derest remembrances of my now sainted moth
er are connected with her “nightly visits" to
my chamber, to see that the light was out and I
“warmly laid,” a maternal duty she never failed
to perform each night, unless a severe illness
prevented. Ob, how many times I feigned
sleep that I might see what she would do. And
os I lay there in my little bed, to all appearances
sound asleep, I felt her warm tears fall upon my
cheek, and heard the sigh escape from her anx
ious, loving heart as she softly kissed me good
night and went back to her own chamber, there
to pray in secret for her little boy. .What
thoughts were in her mind; what emotions
swelled her heart; what hopes and fears rose
up before her as she thought of my future life.
None but a good mother, who has made just
such visits to her child's sleeping couch, can
truly imagine. I was her youngest boy, and if
I gave promise of greater usefulness in life than
the others, I was more mischievous and less
susceptible of restraint, so that her pride and
hope of me were mingled with many extra cares
and anxieties. But she always was to me the
same tender, loving parent. Nothing wearied,
nothing discouraged her. Nor am I the only
man among the numerous sons of good moth
ers who, by feigning sleep at such a time, has
gathered into his heart and soul a blessed treas
ure, that length of days and change of future
has never robbed them of, and never can. In
the words of Cowper, it
“Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced
A thousand other themes lees deeply traced.”
The celebrated Washington Allston—poet,
author and artist—has expressed the same sen
timent, in a poem dedicated to bis most excel
lent mother; and with it ha3 coupled an earnest
longing for the return of those “happy days."
The poem was written in a foreign land, bnt his
spirit, he tells us, “cleaved a thousand miles of
air,” and revisited his childhood’s home, and in
spired him to sing thus tenderly and lovingly of
his early days and his dear mother’s tenderness:
“Oh! what charm or magic numbers
Can give me back tho gentle slumbers
These weary, happy days did leave ?
When by mv bed I saw my mother kneel.
And with her blessing took her nightly kiss;
Whatever time destroys, ho cannot this—
E’en nous that nameless kiss I feel.”
The great poet of Denmark—Beggeson—cIob es
a poem fragrant with filial affection and remem
brances of his childhood, (although his whole
life was spent in traveling in foreign lands,) with
the following pathotio stanza:
“They perished—tho blitho dayB or boyhood per
ished—
And all tho gladness, all the peace 1 knew!
Now have I but their memory, fondly cherished;
God! may I never lose that too!”
Happily, it can he said, that bnt few men of
eminent talent and usefulness in the world, who
were blessed with good mothers, ever ceased to
cherish the memory of the “ nightly visits to
their chamber mnde” by those fond parenta.
The Rev. Rollin H. Neale, D. D., an eloquent
and honored Baptist clergyman of Boston, in a
letter to me, in which he speaks in great sim
plicity and tenderness, says of his mother:
“ What little of good I have been enabled to do
oa a minister of Christ is, under God, owing to
her influence. I followed her to the grave when
I was hut a boy of fifteen. Bat her sweet looks,
her welcome smile, her love that knew no fall,
her tucking me up o’ nights in the old bunk un
der the rafters, and telling me to listen to tho
patter of tho rain, and say my prayers, * now
I lay me,' etc., are over fresh in my memory.
There is scarcely a waking half hour that I don’t
think of her.” The poet Cowper also says of
his mother: “Not a week passes, (perhaps 1
might, with equal veracity, say a day,) in which
I do not think of her." Now why this constant
remembrance of a mother who for nearly half a
century has been sleeping in tho silent tomb ?
Because, says the poet, “Such was tho impres
sion which her tenderness made upon me, though
tho opportunity she had for showing it was
short. She died when I bad completed my sixth
year, yet I remember her well; I remember,
too, a multitude of thoso maternal tendernesses
which I received from her, and which havo en
deared her memory to me beyond expression.”
The Rev. Arville G. Wheeler, in a poem full
of filial piety, and in which ho portrays the
character and surroundings of his early homo,
thus refers to the subject of this article:
“And there my bed was made,
Between whoso sheets wo nightly crept,
Brother and I, and sweetly slept.
Our prayers devoutly said,
O, sweet the bliss
Of good-night kiss *u 1 1 ■
That she—so good, so tried, so meek— • ’ t
Our mother, left won our cheek." .1 .<
’ , Tho venerable Amos Lawrence, tho merchant
prince and honored philanthropist of Boston,
in paying tribute to his most excellent and re
vered mother as the source of' his prosperity
and goodness, thus alludes' to her “nightly
visits” and religious devotions: “Her form
bending oyer .their bed in silent prayer, at tho
hour of twilight, when she was about leaving
them for tho night, is still among the earliest
recollections of her children.”
The “nightly visits” made by the fond
mother, of Tom Moore, the celebrated Irish
poet, to her darling boy’s bedside, were of a
most peculiar character, and show with what un
wearied zeal she discharged her maternal duties.
“As an instance,” says the poet, “both of her
anxiety about my studies, and tho willing tem
per with which I met it, I need Ty mention
that, on more than one occasion, vnen . having
been kept'out too late'at'some evening party to
be able to examine me in my task for the next
day, she has come to my bedside on her retain
home, sad waked me, (sometime* as late as one
or two o’clock in the morning,) and I have
cheerfully sat np in my bed and repeated over
all my lessons to her.” After such a testimony,
I hardly need add, that between the poet and
his mother there ever existed the most tender
relations; and to her dying day he was as obe
dient to her wishes, and as yielding to her judg
ment and counsels, as when a little boy at her
knee; for die was a very sensible and judicious
as well as a gentle and loving parent, although
much given to the pleasures of the world.
I wish, in closing, to make an earnest appeal
to those most deeply interested in the subject of
this article; and one which I trust may not be
unheeded. O mothers! don’t send yonr little
ones off to bed in care of a servant They can
have no more blessed image of yonr sweet ma
ternal face, to treasure intheirheartslongyears
hence, than that which yon can leave upon their
memory by yonr “ nightly visits to their chamber
made” that you may see them “safe and
warmly laid.” Let them have the opportunity,
in their later years, when they listen to that
beautiful song by Samuel Lover, entitled, “My
Mother Dear,” tofeel their eyes moistening
with tears, and their hearts growing tender and
lovingly gentle with childhood’s sunny memo
ries, at the soond of the words:
“ 'When fairy tales wore ended,
* Good night!' she softly said,
And kissed and laid me down to sleep
Within my tiny bod.”
New York City, 1869.
Tlie Approaching State Fair.
This grand exhibition of the achievement of
art, science, and agriculture, promises to sur
pass tile most glowing anticipations of our peo
ple.
It seems universally to be accepted as the
first real triumph, and practical evidence of
that “peace,” which alas, has been so long in
coming, and is even yet imperfect To afford
some idea of what the visitor may expect to be
hold, wo would mention that Dr. Lewis, last
week remarked, that probably not more than
one-tenth of the entries for premiums, and the
articles exhibited, will bo the product of the
State of Georgia.
Two steamers from the North will be freight
ed with articles for the Fair, and it will require
a long train of cars to transport the contribu
tions of the great West.
The largest crowd probably will be collected
at Macon, ever yet assembled within tho bor
ders of our State. Already the caterers for
eggs, chickens, butter, and other provisions are
abroad throughout tho land, and a dearth of
these articles in every market enhances prices,
and suggests hard times for housekeepers. The
hotels and boarding houses are besieged with
applicants for accommodation, and Macon will
be taxed to its utmost capacity, to shelter the
multitude who will swarm through her streets
and cover her hills.
Col. Styles on the part of the Dougherty So
ciety, has already surveyed the field, and staked
off the camping ground which will be occupied
by tho representatives of that county.
It is to be hoped that his example will be fol
lowed speedily, by all who wish to bo indepen
dent of tho chances and contretcmpts which will
befall so vast an assemblage.
Tents, stores, fuel, and every other necessary
and convenience, which may be needed on that
occasion, should be collected at home, and
placed upon the spot in duo season by the ex
ecutive committee of each county association.
This will ensure comfort and content, amidst tho
confusion and hardships which may naturally
expected in such a crowd.
Our own county will move in the matter next
Saturday, and it is to be hoped that all who are
not so fortunate as to bo provided for in Macon
during Fair week, will co-operate with the agri
cultural dub, in its measures to make adequate
provision for the delegates and visitors from
Randolph county.
£Let us endeavor to be the banner connty of tho
State, in the number, character and intelligence
of onr representation.
The proposed tournament will be a new and
attractive feature in the programme, and many
a gallant knight will poise a spear, or couch a
lauco for tho honor of crowning his “ladye fair,”
the qneen of love and beanty.
Will not tho young bloods of Randolph enter
the lists for the honor of our own county? We
are not quite as supple as in other days, when
as a cavalryman we contended in the field at the
head and ring, but would even now, if needs be,
enter the arena again, and show that the gal
lantry and enthusiasm of early youth still bum
within ns.
What say yon, young gentlemen ? Organize
forthwith, elect your captain, and let the herald
proclaim upon the lists that the chivalry of Ran
dolph will be there to do their devoirs, as true
and gallant men.
Who will respond first ?—Cuthbert Appeal.
The Harvest in Europe.
By mail from Europe wo have the following
resume of the harvest prospects prevailing at
the great food supply centres, on the first of Oc
tober, as reported in Paris: 1 '
The accounts of the harvest in Germany are
very unequal, varying in different districts from
good to far below the average yield. On the
whole the groin harvest of middle Germany was
below the average; that of the Southern States
was far better. From Austria we hear that the
yield of com is considerably smaller than in tho
last two years; the same is true of Roumania.
The Russian harvest is stated to have been good,
and the crops have nowhere failed so complete
ly as in some places last year. The fodder is
everywhere poor, with tho exception of a
few mountainous districts. There has been
very little clover, and both the hay and
surrogate have been much injured by the
unfavorable weather. On the other hand there
has been a good deal of straw. Both potatoes
and beets have suffered from the heat and
drought of July and the rain of August. Tho
disease has also appeared with more or less vi
rulence in some parts. Tho hopes entertained
for the potato harvest are not, therefore, high;
but it is said that the beet is improving. The
hops are said to be in a very poor condition,
partly on account of the weather and partly
from the insects and the disease, which have
appearod in many gardens. Scarcely a quarter
of the usual yield i3 expected. But little fruit
has been gathered, and even wbat was is poor
in quality. This is particularly the case with
tho apples and plums. Nor will 1869 be num
bered among the select vintages, ns the quanti
ty of grapes is small and their quality inferior.
THE GREAT FLOOD:
A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY.
From Lippincoltfor November.]
How long ago was it? do yon ask, little Ben
ny ? Sixty-one years, if it was a day. It is June,
now; I was seventy-nine the tenth of last April;
and that worst day of the great flood was on one
other tenth of April, exactly sixty-one years be
fore. It was my eighteenth birth-day, too; I
remember that as well as anything else that hap-
pened. For that matter, I remember it all well
enough: its not very likely I shall forget such a
time as that was nntil the sods cover me. Gome
here to my knee, Benny, and I’ll tell yon all
abont it.
The country was new then—not so new that
the Indians or wild animals troubled us much,
for there were only a few of the Delawares very
near us, and they were so muoh civilized that
up to that day it was not over the stepping
■tones across the neck. On the morning of the
tenth, the rain came down at first steadily, and
Mr. Cardie thought he would not leave the
house. Father west over to the Camp
after breakfast, saying that he would re
turn, as usual, toward night; and so we two
spent the day alone together. I tried to talk
with him and to interest him, bnt he was restive
and uneasy, and half the time was idly turning
over leaves or drumming with his fingers on the
window-panes. It was about the middle of the
afternoon, when I was wondering what I should
do next (and thinking a little of poor Ben Sam
ple, I believe,) that Mr. Cardie turned short
around to me from the window and said, very
abruptly:
“I’m going back to the city to-morrow, Bes
sy. I want to know if I can come back here in
they cared for nothing bnt whisky; and a stray
wolf or catamount was all that troubled our pigs
and chickens. When I say it was a new coun
try, I mean that it was pretty muoh all woods,
with very few settlements, and not many people
three months that’ll be the middle of July— shore after deserting us, and the °? ^
and make you my wife ? ’ j “Scot ^
den. The house had sunk eo low IK**.?
the oaves was tipped clear out of wktw,??*
other was three feet under. We waiteaS* 0 *
slowly down the centre 0 f the tonamTttt^
was almost a mile off on either side, ^
was pot a sail nor • sign of hebTin
looked at Ben, perfedSJ - 1
my despeir, and he looked backwith wT 1 *»
courage. °°P* Ufl
“There’s one hope yet, Bessv” a.
cheerily; and his finger printed toaTo? 1 *’
floating ten rods behind us—an objecuLS**
of which filled my heart with gratitude m 8?*
that he had heard and had
prayers. It
_ . was my fatoerWriff 8 *^
oars lying in the bottom of it.’ P*
along in our track as if to save t *
destruction! I understood at one* w 1
was—Jacob Cardie had drawn it^n JiV
spare,
„ Ben looked wistfully at it, and t
he went on; “.and yon re everything with his eye the distance to it? Tk!
'Oftf VTV O Von 1rn/>n* wnn^ne IihmiI Lt.L .1 •• m. AUQ
in them. They were mostly along the banks of - that I want in a xfife You know you’re hand- which we clung was alternately sint Wofio
this river, for most every one was lumbering or some, Bessy, and I suppose you are good. Will swaying, and the water sucked
rafting; and that was what brought father here
from Vermont Mother died away up among
the Green Mountains; and it always seemed to
me as if he couldn’t bear the old homestead af
ter that He grew very restless and uneasy;
you marry me when I come again ?”
I never thought of myself or of my own feel- |
, ominously around it
_ . . ^ “This old thing can’t swim mnnv Th
ings: I put all thoughts of Benoutofmy head, longer,” he said. “Can you hold on
remembered my father, and said “Yes ”—noth
ing more. I don’t know whether Mr. Cardie
and one day he came home early in the after- would have kissed me or not: he had no chance;
noon and said to me—
“Daughter, I have a chance to sell this place
at a bargain. Shall I do it? This hasn’t been
much like home to me for two months: I think
I’m wanting new scenes and new faces to blunt
th. grief I have for her that’s left us. Shall wo
go to Pennsylvania, Bessy? I’ve a plan to go into iEg 8 for me, for he stepped back to the window
the lumber trade; and mayhap I’ll make so muoh and frowned, never speaking or nodding to Ben,
money in a year or two that we’ll goto Philadel- who stood there with his hat twirling in his
phia, and you'll be a lady the rest of your days, hands, awkward and abashed. He only found
Shall we go, Bess ?” > his tongue when I asked himi to sit down, and
Poor father! The dear, kind soul lived and then he said:
Bessy, while I swim out to the skiff Jn 0 ? 11 ’
it to yon ?” He did not wait for
hut lifted me to the place where he had ^
showed me how to grasp the bare jaW35®
the boards had been strained off. When’ll v
_ __ done this, he stopped, just as he J?
We were all three of us rather ill at ease for a, let himself off into the water, and looti? 1Bg to
moment. Mr. Cardie knew Ben, I suppose, and with a tender, mournful look that I « ^ 41 m8
must have heard something about his old feel- forget—no, not if I should live to h« m n , Wet
infra for me. for he hnnlr firm vinilmfr cao^ W lW10 ® tour.
for hardly had I spoken that word when there
was a knock at the door, and I opened it to ad
mit—Ben Sample himself"
score—he said,
“You’ll be safe in ten minutes. I hom. -
God speed me, for your sake! Yet if
sborid happen to either of us, that we sh<fi
meet again m this world, I must tell von
died with the wish nearest his heart to malje me
a fine lady. I’m thankful that he nover saw it
accomplished; but he did see me become ause
“Nay, I can’t stop. I only came to bring
yonr father’s message that he won't be home to
night. The rise in the river has broken loose
ful woman, and, I hope and trust, a good wife 0* great raft up at Logan’s Ford, that was to
and mother. How that happened, little Benny,
is the story that I’m telling you now. .
Look from the north window, there, boy: I’d
come and look with yon, but my rheumatism is
bad to-day. No matter. Do you see that long
point of land, a mile up stream, that runs out
into the river ? Yes ? Well—look a little closer
Bessy, that nobody has loved you asIM,^
that nobody loves you now as I do. Believ«
dear, for it is true.” 6 me -
‘T know it, Ben—I know it!” i ,
I.put up my face to his. He benW^r S
IriKRP.rf TO ft with RTlMl a Innlr — * v.
havo been floated down to-morrow, and he’s Kissea me, wnn. suen a look of miehfv
gone up with all hands to moor it Ho can’t be and overwhelming joy as I don’tfiajy®
here to-night.” ,. man ever had before • and .... .'(29
That was awkward news for me. I had never
thought of staying in that lonely place without
father; and it was little consolation to. think of
man ever had before; and crrinc out *d£S
bard,_ Bessy—hold fast girl!’’he jumped into
the river and struck ont for the skiff. 0
Mr. Cardie as a protector. Just as I had a ques-
at it Farthest from the shore it spreads ont tion on my tongue, Ben spoke again.
into an acre of good, high land, but the narrow
nock that joins that to the shore is commonly
almost as low as the bed of the stream. There
You don’t know how fast the river is rising,”
he said. “ Out on the stones the water is almost
up tothe tops of my boots, and seems to beris-
are great high stepping stones across it now, ing higher.’
that father laid there when we first came; and “Do yon think there is any danger in staying
we used to walk dryshod over them when the hereto-night ?”_I asked, in some alarm.
spring raised the river. I remember but one
solitary time when the water covered the step
ping-stones as well as the neck of land; and
that was the time of the great flood.
Our little house was built on that high land,
“ Maybe not,” he answered, doubtfully; “but
I never knew the river to be so high before.”
“Ben, Ben, what shall I do?” 1 took no
thought at all of Mr. Cardie, and felt no safety
except from the presence of Ben. “Didn’t
ont in the middle of the river—a two-story frame father send any other word ?”
affair, with two rooms down stairs and two rooms
np; and, after all, it took all the neighbors to
raise the roof. It was an odd notion of father's,
putting it there: he used to say that the day
would come when he conld sell off valuable
water-privileges all around his acre. That day
hasn’t come vet, Benny; but sometimes, when
I think of poor dear father, and all his plans and
schemes for me, and of what has happened, I
really think that something like Providence put
it into his heart to fancy that queer little corner
out there in the river, and to bnild our house
there. I am going to tell yon what I mean right
away.
■ After the little honse was built and furnished,
watched him while the pain is
my poor hands and arms was distressing
sorely. I saw him reach the skiff and
himself and labor carefully over its side to L
in without overturning it; and when he had L
complished this my stq&jth was almost gone
My hands were giving, slipping-I mode o, e
last spasmodic effort to retain my hold,
shouted wildly to Ben. I heard the plash of
oars, and his loud, cheery voice eneonragisj
me; darkness overtook me as my hands slipped
their grasp. Clutching at the shingles, I&)
downward, down, but not to my watery e-r.f"
The skiff dipt past me. Ben Sample swn
snatched me from my peril, and I lay safely in
“ None at afi.”
!!: w ° a * y°® s ^ a y •” . - t . miniuucu uie uwa lay peril, auu 1 lay satekii
After what has happened, Bessy? I shouldn’t the bottom of the boat, while his stout aria
think you d wish it.” Then he must have seen rowed me toward the shore,
how grieved and sorry I looked,and how alarmed “Look there!” he exclaimed; and I lools
I feU, for he added right away, _ my last at the poor rid house. The roof in-A
ies, I will stay Bessy, if you wish it, though and settled, the waters washed up over it ail
I trust and believe there is no danger.” it sank in a wild whirlpool that sucked it don.
I thanked him with a look, and before I could That was the last of our danger. We com
say anything more, Mr. Cardie spoke: the shore and found a house; and before nU|
‘ Do you think there is any danger of theriv- we had a chance to take a schooner np the rira.
er nnsettling the house ?” he asked. In a day or two father came up with most of hii
‘It surely will if it rises high enough,” Ben men; and such a meeting as we had! The nit
replied. “Hark! hear that!” had been carried off by the flood, as Ben thoscit
Generally, when the door was open, we could and two of the men had perished by drovmj
I stayed at home and kept it, and father took to hear a faint ripple of the current, but it now had And when I told him the true story of onr ri51
AT. A A — — — - A Y, A I. a 1 m T~T a 1 a J a — -T n Vi AO i*oa 1 ah rl 7 A l, a A ——. —. —a ■■■ A a —a D-m * it. _ V_ _ A a. T. . a a. 1 , t , u a I
iiln wt¥i
The principle of co-operation is recognized
both in England and the United States; bathos
made no such progress in these countries as re
cent statistics show in Germany. In 1866 co
operative societies, for procuring ordinary arti
cles of food, numbered 199; in 1867, 3IG; and
in 1868, 555. There are now in Germany 1558
workingmen’s bank and loan associations; and
tho whole number of co-operative societies ex
isting there is estimated at about 2600, consist
ing of about 1,000,000 members. In 18C8 their
business transactions amounted to 220,000,000
thalers, and this they had managed on a capital
15,000,000 thalers belonging to themselves, and
42,000,000 thalers of borrowed money.
While immorality and vice have of late years
increased in Paris in a manner astounding to
behold, and appear to be increasing every day,
a greater number of persons belonging to tho
higher classes havo “gone into religion” than at
any former period. Going into religion means,
among women becoming a nnn, and amonc men
joining one of the “regular orders.” A fow
weeks back Prince de Broglie turned Jesuit; a
month ago a captain in the imperial navy, the
possessor of a title and a good estate, laid all
down and went to the Chartreuse; and this very
fortnight' a nephew of Banm Hausmann, the
famous Prefect of Paris, resigned a government
appointment and cnteied a religious house.
Pacification is the name now applied to a
process of broad making recently discovered
and patented in France. This method dispen
ses with, the grinding of the wheat, and, it is
asserted, will produce one hundred and fifty
pounds of broad from ono hundred pounds of
grain; .while by the old plan of using flour, pply
one hundred and • twelve pounds of bread are
produced from the one hundred pounds of
wheat The new kind of bread is said also to
be of better quality than the old, as the gluten
is not decomposed and lost by tho heat of grind
ing. The new mode of fermentation, it is also
asserted, contributes greatly to the whiteness
of the bread. , > ... ... . , t ,
“Mother: wants do know if you won’t please
to lend her yonr preserving kettle, ’cause she
wants to do np some apple-sarse.” “I would
with pleasure, boy, but the truth is, the last time
we lent it to yonr mother she preserved it so
effectually that we have not seen it since.”
“Well, you needn't be saray about your old ket
tle. Guess it was full of holes when we bor
rowed it, and mother wouldn’t have troubled
you agin, only we seed you bring home a new
one.” - . ;
y . «tv 4e ■■ . .Jr ......
the woods with the loggers. He led a hard
enough life from that time out till he died:
summer and winter he was at work with his
men—sometimes at the loggers’ camp, then
hauling the logs to the river and rafting the.m
down to the bay, where he sold them to the con
tractors. There were weeks when he wouldn’t
be at home a day but Sunday; but when he was
rafting X often heard his shout on the river, and here to the bank,
could see him waving his hat from the raft as it
went slowly down the stream with the current.
I hope I was a good daughter in those days: I
tried my best to do all that I could for him. I
kept the house neat and tidy, and mended his
clothes; and regularly once a day I cooked a
great mess, which was taken np hot to the log
gers’ camp in a great tin pail that was got from
the city.
I was lonesome-like often enough, for there
were whole days that I did not see a human
being to exchange a word with, bnt Ben Sam
ple, who ’most always came for tho dinner.
Heigho! It’s long enough ago that I’m telling
you of: and handsome Ben Sample was then
hardly twenty-one. I don’t know, my boy, bnt
the lads are as handsome, and sprightly, and as
good now as they were threescore years ago: if
I say not, it may be because I see them through
an old woman's eyes, and that I can’t see the
charm that I could once. However that is, I
know I never saw so fine a lad, every way, as
that one was. He was not over tall, nor yet
short: he was of middling height, with broad
shoulders and big hands, and was as strong as
any two of the men—so father said. He had
curly chestnut hair, and red and white cheeks,
like a girl, though sun-burnt; and his eyes were
great blue ones, and his teeth shone so when he
laughed (and that was often) that anybody
a hoarse, loud sound that was new to me. Ben in the honse afloat, he took Ben by the hand, I
looked dubious as he heard it. with tears in his eyes, and begged his pnfal
“I don’t like that,” he said. “Let me go for thinking that anybody conld be bettetml
out and see.” such a brave, noble fellow as he had proved tin- j
He was not gone three minutes, and he came self. j
back with his face full of trouble. “And especially that cowardly sneak, Cardie,’ I
‘ ‘The water is within twenty feet of the door,” father added, with a savage slap of his hand oe I
he said. “I don’t suppose I could wade from his knee. “Plague take me! what a foo!l|
bank. We must leave here at once, would be sometimes if I had my own traj! ’ I
and when you’re safe, I’ll come back and As for Jacob Cardie, I never heard a syllaUe I
save some of the things. If the water gains more of him. I never wanted to. 1 am
like this, all the floor will be under in an hour,” sorry that I met him, for he served to shoi nil
He went ont again: I knew what for. The the difference between Ben Sample andtheKtl
west foundation-wall of the house was next the creatures the world of fashion and wealth cu|
river, and father always kept a skiff tied there, men.
I understood, from what Ben said, that he Welladay! It’s many a long year since tb: l
ment to bring the skiff round to the front and it’s many a long year that I lived as the htpxj
take ns to the shore. I was putting on my hood wife of that same Ben Sample; and its uxl
and shawl when he came back. His face was as many since God took him home before a I
pale as ashes, and he never noticed me at first, How old are you, little Benny ? Nine, inde-i'l
but looked allround the room and into father's Then he died just nine years ago: yon weal
chamber. “Where’s that fellow Cardie ?” he named for him, boy, for you were bom thtl
asked. I had not noticed that he was gone : he morning that he died. He was yonr own granil
had been standing by the window just before father little Ben: and I can give you no betel
Ben went out the last time. “I thought it,” , wish than that you may be as brave, as stroll
Ben cried, and his face looked half sorry, half . and as good a man as was he.
mad. “Bessy, do you know what has happened?
The skiff is gone, and that man with it.” From Darbonr Connty, Alabama.
I looked, terrified, into his faoe, and then fol- Clayton, Ala., October 22,1S69.
Messrs. Editors: From the fact that Is*I
lowed him to the door and looked out with him, j
It was almost night, but what there was of day- WJC - 19i , . ,,
light left showed us a mad, white-capped tor- numerous copies of your spicy andvsai.i
rent of water rushing through the channel be- j paper in the hands of the citizens of this ph«,
tween ns and the shore—so near to us that we j am led to think that a few lines from my pci
feSSS relative to the prospects «« —. «
ful to see. The rain had ceased, and I didn’t town of Clayton, would not be unscceptai.et
then see how the river could have risen so; but your many readers. Such goodly reports hm
I understood it afterward, when they told me reached us of your soil, climate and snpeal
would have liked him. And then he was so hon- that it was all owing to a sudden thaw up in the ! - .
estand so clever, and so kind and obliging, mountains, that had melted the snow in tiie gor- j advantages, (all of which I presume are trae.i|
gos and poured hundreds of new streams into • spies who went forth, to viow the land, havecoj
the river all at once. We looked a moment and | back—but unlike those of olden time, bnrda* 1
then came back into the room. I was afraid, 11 “confirmations strong,” instead of “Wta
suppose; but notso much so as I thought at first . ,,v -w.-Jm.aI
Somehow I felt a sense of security with Ben frmts > ) that several of our most estimate
that before I had seen him many times~I
came to like him right well; and ono
day I happened to say to father thatT thonght
Ben Sample was an excellent lad, and that I
wished that I could have more of liis company.
I never saw father look stem all of a sudden,
as he did then; and I never heard him speak so
stem, either.
“Better leave him in his place, Bessy,” he said,
very quick and sharp-like. “He’s naught but a
poor lumberman, after all, and he’s not likely
to be nught else. Don’t be tender with him,
daughter, Ibid you not. If you’ve felt any too
kina to him, you must check it in time. Have
little to say to him, daughter; it’s your father’s
wish.
Poor Ben! There had been no talk of love be
tween ns before this morning, and I do not know
know that I had thought of nim at all as a lover;
but by and by, after a few weeks more, when I
had tried hard to obey my father’s command
and treat him coldly, he lingered one day over
tho great tin pail long enough to press my hand
and whisper bashfnlly to me, “Dear Bessy!” I
snatched my hand away and looked hard at him,
Sample there that robbed the situation of all the
terrors it would have had without him. I hard
ly thought of Jacob Cardie, and how mean and
hartless he was to abandon us so and deprive us
of the means of safety, when Ben wanted to
save us all together. -‘Ben will save me,” was
all I could think of; and I suppose I repeated
the words to myself a hundred times. Once I
must have spok'en them aloud, for he said,
“I will, Bessy—God willing. I will pray for
strength that I may.”
He knelt there on the floor and prayed, and I
knelt beside him and took one of his hands in
both of mine. When we arose we heard the first
low washing of the water against the east side of
tho house, mingled with the louder rushing and
brawling of the torrent beyond. When it grew
so dark that I could not see Bens' face, I lit a
candle; and we sat there together in silence, I
holding his hand. My heart was too full for
speech, and Ben said' nothing but a word of
and told him that he must never say nor do that
again. He left me, looking as grieved as I ever , comfort now and then,
saw another mortal look ; and when he was gone “There’s nothing for us to do bnt stay here
I went out to tho log seat by the river and cried and hope for the best,” he told me once. And
as though my heart would break. I did not then he added, “While there’s a hope, and
know my feelings till then, but if Ben Sample when there’s none, /’Knotleave you, Bessy.”
could havo seen mo that half honr! j Dear, noble Ben! I wanted to throw myself
Ben did not come with the great pail after on his breast and tell him my secret, but some-
that: another man took his place, and things
went on in the old lonely way all the rest of the
winter and through tho next spring. It was in
the first week in March, I think, of that year
that father bronght young Mr. Cardie to tho
house. Young Mr. Curdle was the only son of
thing prevented rue—I don’t know what—and I
only pressed the hand that I held.
There was no slackening to the river: it rose
higher and higher every moment, and by ten
o’clock the water was over the floor where we
I I stood. Ben had carried the trunks, and the
old Jacob Cardie, the millionaire, who lived in ] things I thought most of, up stairs ; and we
Philadelphia, and who was contracting with fa- then took to the second story. Here we stayed
ther for all his logs for years to oome. The old for two hours more, I listening all the time for
man meant that young Jacob should succeed the sound of oars or voices, for I hoped that
him in business in a few months; and he thought father would come and take us^off. Midnight
it would be an excellent thing to send him up in- came and I grew impatient, and complainingly
to the loggers’ country for a while, to get him asked Ben if he could not tell why father did not
acquainted with the different kinds of lumber, come and rescue US.
and the process of cutting it and getting it to “I’m afraid I can, Bessy,”-he answered with
market. Father thought it would be a good a grave face. “The great raft went down the
thing for himself to entertain him at the house river twohours ago: I heard the voices of the
while he remained; and so, for the next five men shouting,-and don’t doubt' your father ip
weeks, they were regularly at home morning carried away with the rest. But don’t be afraid
and night, sleeping in the house and spending they’re all safe, I hope, and they’all get to shore
the day in the woods or oni the river. But it when morning comes.”
wasn’t hard to see that young Mr. Cardie grew I couldn’t help crying when he told me that, .
tired of this very soon; presently he began to and I nestled up to Mm as if I had been a child, ' we can boast of, or as many lawye
come Ifcck to the house iu the middle of the and ho put his strong arm around me. It was ' tors, although the latter do not get r !Ci
day, and fish and shoot in the neighborhood not long after this that we felt the house set- the-'r regular practice this being a vi? ^
until night. tlmg and tipping, and not much longer when it - ,\ , v . ’ • —
You'll wnnt to know what kind of a man ho careened half-way over, and was whirled away 89ctloa °* country. They, li . (
was, boy. He was palo and slender, handsome into tho river by the torrent that had been un- : largely engaged in the care of their p*
enough for those that like such beanty as that dermining the foundations. That was an awful from which they derive sn abundant
in men; and rather foppish with his diamond hour, my lad! Ben held one arm around me, i mtnenge amount of cotton n° ff
ring and' his silky moustache. He was very and with the other hand grasped the window-sill, ^ e ^ Eafaula * by teams, as *
zens are preparing to leave us and take upth-l
residence hear your city; while others, Iite *1
Roman Catholic Bishops, bound for the ceu^'l
council, are on the way to Rome—of coais^l
mean Rome, Georgia. In either location tttl
feel sure.of doing well—better than the*®!
hope to do here—hence the change. I
I am very sorry to record the fact, that <*■
of the most enterprising and desirable of Hi
class, Mr. James Ventres, recently met v.'-Jj
severe and painful injury, wMch will
removal for another year, if it does not c
him for life. He was thrown from his 1
wagon, by the running away of his mnkt *
received a serious blow ou the hip, fr°°
effects of which he is now confined tolas"
and will no doubt continue to be a pen
sufferer. But for this accident he won!
brought to your vicinity in a few weeks
and desirable family, and by bis and their®
gy and enterprise, added no little to the MF
which is being given to all branches ofis-* ’
in yonr midst.
Now, while I hardly hope to hold oufsoa'
inducements to your citizens to lead ■**
migrate hither, I would have them
the good men we are sending them "> Ee
a good country, although 'They seek a be. ‘
where they have enjoyed nearly
leges of a modem civilization. , It 5* 1016 * e .
like many interior towns, not blessed " l!
mediate railroad facilities, but we h ’F e '' w3 -
have the iron horse snorting through ouj
leys. The survey of the Montgomery
faula Railroad is now under way **
Union Springs and this town, and ere 1®
shall have ample ' rail facilities via
the one side, and Union Springs on the ^
Few towns in the South have a larger s’
or a greater variety of well stocked storeS ^
rhottfl
r lawyer*-
polite, too, and he would talk -and chatter as while ho braced his feet in the corner of the
city folks can;
much heart or
or did.
; but I never thonght there was room ; and the rising and falling of the poor the large quantities of merchandise w
good feeling iu anything he said wreck under us, as the heavy current swept us back by the same conveyances, will ‘ or
ilroei’
first; and
Yet he seemed to like me from the along, gave me at first the feeling that we were Dro fitable revenue to the proposed rail**
id poor father whispered to me ten going straight to the bottom. The wind moaned fJ , , , inert*-'
* k Pl*»v fliir shrawdlr. iwtairfft. the water henf noninaf the rtlanVs. amount OI each Will DO iarg j
times, if ho did once, ‘‘Play thy oArds shrewdly, outside, the water beat against the planks, and — - ,
Bessy, and thou’it catch Mm 1 He’ll make thee the beams cracked and gaped as though the this moro rapid and safe means oi
a! lady, girl, and a rich one l” And stranger poor old bouse was all falling apart. Long be-
things hove happened, I know, than my marry- fore daylight we both saw that it was settHnc
tion ‘ . ! of r* 11
ing him would*have been; surely, affairs were down deeper and deeper into the water, whioE , being toe *???*?f or fl :
rapidly drifting toward it; ana I had almost rose over the upper floor; and when Ben had bonr - 18 tao fleat of business i or
K D V ,• .1 v. -A T> a !.!• l_. r L . .V -.1- L _ J. , At an,
succeeded in crashing the thonght of Ben Sam
ple out of my heart, and in playing the part
that my father wished me to play to young Mr.
Cardie, (for I never could have persuaded my
self to love him,) when that fateful tenth of
April came that brought my eighteenth birth
day and the Great Flood together.
The river had been rising slowly for a week
before it, and there had been much rain with
us. We heard reports of tremendous rains in
the mountains two hundred miles north of ns,
wMoh lasted for days and days; and the -river
continued to rise steadily sad slowly, though
rose over tne upper floor; ana wnen Ben naa ”—> “— mosG
succeeded in knocking out the sonttie, he dragged tion of territory, and needs tn
me out on the roof—how, I don’t know. I only and ample means' of communication.
iv.i v- hi Xh« «gitgtioB Of.tito BUbjC^t of »
know that he did it, and that but for him my
drowned body would have floated there in that
old wrecked house when the morning came. ***• uouranous*.** * al *“*"J “ th6 b«jG
And I don’t know much about how toe test of is thought will be brought hefo . jB g C *
the night passed. Ben sat upon the ridgepole, liatatwiw, hssAtiwed up the
and held me on by bain strength: ana la the town, and theyasoao
cold and the darkness I believo I slept: oertria- impartant and dsn
ly I forgot where I was-for a long time.andfor- In the future management of ourv i
got I was cold too. Bnt then I didn't know na- the most prominent of omeh „ ■
til I woke up at broad daylight, that Baa had my noxt letter. Yaws, fratarnaaj g^ l
token hu coat off ted (Hft ttaxwmd sqrpto*)- 1
tori fl .^3rih>airt4y^[
- - - - ■ .--^iA S^.~AAASSi