The Beaufort Tribune and Port Royal Commercial, 1877-08-09

On the night of June second, wiien the Texas express entered the gloom of the Ozark mountains, a terrific storm of wind ami rain was raging. The storm was a tempest in force. Little streams had swollen to torrents. In the cab of the engine, Frank Caton, the engineer, stood with his hand upon the throttle and peered into the tempest, keeping a sharp lookout for any obstructions that the storm might have thrown upon the track. By his side was Sam Richardson, a hardy young fellow, the fireman of the engine. There was one other man on the engine, a friend of Caton's, Dr. E. L. j Atkinson, who had stepped aboard to ride a few miles. The train was on a fill. Forty feet below was the level of the grouud.. The engineer observed a heap ; of rubbish and leaves upon the track. , At the same instant his eye, accustomed to dark nights and the distinguishing of , objects in dim light, saw the form of a man stealing into the deeper darkness, | away from the light of the engine's bea- ( con, far down at the base of the hill. He ( suspected foul play. With one hand he pulled the cord, and the engine gave a , warning shriek. Then he seized the reverse lever, and, with a desperate pull, ' reversed the engine and applied the air J brake. Too late ! With his hands yet upon the lever, he went to his death. 1 The engine reached the seeming obstruc- I tions. A trap had been laid. Two rails had been loosened at one end, and their ! course diverted. The intention of those who did it was to plunge the train into4 the depths below. The engine passed over the brow of the hill. It rolled down the embankment to the very base and J stopped with the wheels in the air. Tiie three occupants of the cab were beneath j it, crushed and mangled. When the engine left the track and ( started upon the path made by the mis- . placed rails, it gave a wild plunge and ' bound. The coupling between the ten- i der and the baggage car gave way, but . not until the heavy car turned upon its j side. The remainder of the train came ^ to a dead stand still, safe upon the track. There were but few passengers on ' board. The traffic is generally Light on Saturday night. Some of them were doz- 1 ing in their seats. Others sat looking ( out into the gloom, listening to the howling of the storm. When the warning shriek of the engine was followed by the "" - v J J # it. _ j! *?

(/lit; OW11W Ol llic pcncvn in\.o v. ?v > i long and earnestly in the mirror, J while Elinor sank into an astonishingly sudden and deep slumber, from which she awoke as suddenly when Alice was at last asleep beside her. Those next days were very dreary ones to Elinor. Her loyal heart refused 1 to believe at first that Max could be untrue to her even in thought; but daily Alice's fascinations were exerted, until at last, even Paul noticed it, and spoke ' of it in his rough way. "The girl shall go," lie said ; "she shall not ruin your life in this way, Nellie. Max does not really care for her, but she monopolizes him-; and, if it comes to that, he is yours in honor boundbut Elinor pleaded with him. "I care for him, she said, "more than for all the world?so much that my happiness is nothing if he be not content. Would you have your sister marry a man who cares for another woman, Paul ? Let him choose between us, if it comes to that." And so Paul was silenced; but, one day, Max returning from a walk with Alice, called " Nellie " in vain, and Mrs. Paul, with the ever-present baby in her arms, handed him a little missive directed to him in Elinor's clear hand: "Dear Max (the note said)?I am going away for a time. Don't come for me, don't write to me, until you are sure of your own heart. Remember that you can do me no more cruel injury than to many me when you love another. Let no false idea of honor influence you. You know me thoroughly. Learn to know her, and if you love her, God bless you both. Think of this well for a month, and then do as your heart tells you. As ever, Elinor." Slowly the days went by, dragging wretchedly along to Elinor?slowly, all too slowly, to Max Valentine, although he was Alice Barden's constant companion all the while. He missed Elinor's bright smile, her ready, helpful hands; he missed the long, quiet evening talks; - - ? i i _ />

trough; the largest stones are tlirown out, and afterward the smaller ones; the whole is then examined with great care for diamonds. When a negro finds one, he claps his hands, stands in an erect posture, holding the diamcnd between 1 his fore-finger and thumb; it is received by one of the overseers posted on lofty seats, at equal distances, along the line of the work. Ou the conclusion of the work, the diamonds found during the day are weighed and registered by the overseer en chef. If a negro has a good fortune to find a stone weighing upwards of seventeen carats, he is immediately ! manumitted, and for smaller stones proportionate premiums are given. A Cossack and His Horse. Many stories are told of the cleverness of the Cossacks in obtaining what they need for themselves or horses, and all tend to show that their morality is of a different type to that of European civilization generally. Some of the stories may possibly have been invented, but they j show the general tone of feeling, and ' what is expected from these quaint, ' reckless, merry troops. Passing through the streets of Galatz, the thin, wearyi looking horse of a Cossack fell suddenly, | and lay apparently lifeless on the I ground. Its master was moved even to ! tears, and bewailed the unhappy fate which had not only deprived him of a i favorite, but left him horseless just at the most interesting moment of the war. A crowd gathered around, and in it were men whose kind hearts would not suffer them to leave the poor man without some practical expression of their pity. A subscription was made, aud the man, taking the saddle from the lifeless animal, went on his way with dried tears, for lie had actually wept. As the crowd were bending over the little horse in pure sympathy, a whistle was heard at the other end of the street. The horse sprang to his feet, and with a joyful neigh joined his master, whose trick was i much admired, even by Hiram whosnfI fered by ii

31,488 pounds 01 ouwer, ao,ouv ultub and 10,220 boxes of berries consumed in a Chicago hotel in one season. There are at least eight smart young ladies in Macon, Ga. They graduated in gowns of their own make, and then put into type their "compositions" for publication. If the czar just wishes to perfectly annhilate the Turks, he should arm his soldiers with firearms "suppoeed to W empty." They do more damage now-adays than any other weapon. " Would you believe," said a thriftless young man to a friend, " that I had a fortune in my grasp the other evening?" " How so ?" asked the friend. " I shook hands with a girl whose fingers were covered with diamonds." A Miss Buchanan, once rallying a brave soldier on his courage, said: " Now Captain , do you really fn??n to tell me you can walk up to the cannon's mouth without fear ?" "Yes," was the prompt reply, "or a Buchanan's, either." And he did it. "Suppose we pass a law," said, a se1 vere father to his daughters, "that no girl eighteen years old who can't cook a good meal shall get manled till she learns how to do it ?" " Why, then, we'd all get married at seventeen," responded the girls in a sweet chorus. How Mr. and Mrs. Fly Take a Wash. The toilet of the fly is as carefully attended to as that of the most frivolous of human insects. With a contempt for the looking-glass?an article whicn he reserves for the most ignoble uses?he brushes himself up and wabbles his little round head, cliuclu full of vanity, wherever he happens to be, Some-' times, after i long day of dissipation and flirting, with his six small legs and little round belly all soiled with syrup and butter and cream, he passes out of the diifing-room and wings his way to the clean white cord along which the morn* ?'* " ?n iVtia

in a thousand contingencies to tiie suspicion of having betrayed it. We ought never to believe evil of anyone till we are certain of it We ought not to say anything that is rude and displeasing even in a joke ; and we ought never to carry jokes too far. It is the most beautiful truth in morals, that we have no such thing as a distinct or divided interest from our race. In their welfare, is ours, and by choosing the broadest paths to effect their happiness, we choose the surest and the shortest to our own. It is a great misfortune to have a fretful disposition. # It takes the fragrance out of one's life, and leaves only weeds where a cheerful dispoaitition would cause flowers to bloom. The habit of fretting is one that grows rapidly unless it be sternly repressed; and the best way to overcome it is to try always to look on the cheerful side of things. 1 Turkish Town in Asia Minor. The streets of Erzeoum are compared by a correspondent to a net of wriggling eels. No squares, no good-looking houses, offer anywhere a means of setting oneself right; everywhere nothing but houses, rising* slightly from the ground, with grass roofs, on which may frequently be seen muffied-up women, children at play and lambs frisking about. Children and lambs sometimes fall through the chimney into the house, in which men, horses, oxen, cows and sheep live together. In bad weather the chimneys are covered with flat stones, and then the smoke fills the room or stable, whichever one chooses to call it. A small part of this room, devoid of light or air, in which a fire made of dung and finely-cut straw burns, is separated by a railing. Here paterfamilias sits on a rug, smoking his chibougue or nargileh, ! and receives guests. The preparation of l food gives little trouble; a penny a day j suffices to satisfy the palate and stomach, i i even in wealthv families. A little bread !

lug giones mimu^ uuu m vu&o av?uv^ spot, heedless of the crafty spider that is practicing gymnastics a few feet above him, he proceeds to purify and sweeten himself for the refreshing repose and soft dreams of the balmy snmmer night, so necessary to one who is expected to be early at breakfast. It is a wonderful toilet. Besting himself on his front and middle legs he throws his hind legs rapidly over his body, binding down Ins frail wings for an instant with the pressure, then raking them over with a backward motion, which he repeats until they are bright and clear. Then he pushes the two legs along his body under his wings, giving that queer structure a thorough currying, every now and then throwing the legs out ana rubbing them together to remove what he has collected from his corporeal surface. Next he goes to work upon his van. Restiug on his hind legs and mid- * ^ die logs, he raises his two forelegs and begins a vigorous scraping of his head and shoulders, using his proboscis every little while to push the accumulation from his limbs. At times he is so energetic that it seems as if he were trying to pull his head off, but no fly ever committed suicide. Some of his motions very much resemble those of pussy at her toilet. It is plain, even to the naked eye, that he does his work thoroughly, for when he has finished he looks like a new fly, so clean and neat has he made himseif within a few minutes. The I white cord is defiled, but floppy is himself again, and he bids the morningglories a very good evening. Origin of 6eniit?. Columbus was the son of a weaver, and a weaver himself. Claude Lorraine was brought up a pastry cook. Moliere, the great French comic writer, was the son of a tapestry maker. Cervantes served as a common soldier. Homer was - 11

snmy, uuuuy mut: Euuuug-iuviu, mui i Mrs. Paul's baby in lier arms. He had | thought very little about the "new j cousin," and this sudden meeting was a j revelation. He had seen many beautiful women, but this woman, with her fair face, her great dark eyes and her wonderful crown of glittering golden hair, was even to him a surprise and a wonder. The bright sunlight fell on her bowed head, and on the pure, sweet, almost unreal face, and she looked up and smiled. For a moment he gazed at her as though spellbound; then with a sudden, awkward consciousness of having expressed in his look ap admiration which ho had no right either to feel or show. He greeted her lightly, and in a moment was his whimsical quizzical self again; laughing and jesting as in the old days before the dreary sick-room was even thought of. That night Elinor, watching Alice as she brushed out the glittering waves of her hair before the little looking-glass in their chamber, felt a new, sudden pang of?was it ??jealousy in her heart; and when Alice, turning suddenly, 6miled down at her through the golden veil, sho shrank back in the shadow, half fearing the great, dark eyes would read her thoughts. " A fine fellow, that Max Valentine," said Alice, as though following out a train of thought ; " odd for him to come here to be ill. He is his uncle's favorite nephew, and will have a mint of money sometime. You didn't know it ? You i are the oddest people, you and Paul, that I ever saw. I haven't been here two weeks yet, and I know more about all your friends than you do. However, it's so;" and the white elbows were placed on the shabby bureau, the dimpled chin resting on the pink palms, and ? ? ft\nn rroto/1 of if

in fact?and every day maae nun sure oi it?he missed Elinor. At last, one morning, as Paul Marcelon was working industriously (for a wonder) in his studio, he was interrupted by the advent of Max Valentine, pale but very determined. " What is it, old fellow ?" said Paul, looking back over his shoulder, with a brush uplifted; and then Max brokeout, savagely : "I'll be hanged if I can stand this kind of thing any longer, Marcelon. Tell me where Nellie is. I must go and bring her back. She told me to do as my heart told me, and my heart tells me that she is the only woman in the world whom I can love." The uplifted brush fell to the floor, and Paul Marcelon's hand, adorned with divers daubs of paint, grasped Max Valentine's heartily. "I was sure of it !" he said, enthusi-j astically. " I knew it would come out j all rightand before another day had I passed Elinor Marcelon knew that all j distrust was at an end, and that her lover ! was hers, and here alone, in very truth, j A Festive Turk. A war correspondent writes: I have an item relative to the Turkish commander of the Danube army, Abdul Kerim. The ! old man has the most gigantic appetite | in Europe. His dinner ordinarily consists of an entire roast kid, twenty-live i ! or thirty boiled eggs, and, when in g?>od form, he tops off with a goose or a j chicken. I have this officially. When ! not occupied with digesting* a small j j lunch of this character, the venerable j