Port Royal standard and commercial. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, March 30, 1876, Image 1
St i
% . VOL.
IV. NO. 17.
*' t } V t V
' ' ' i
AUNT HANNAH.
A Hery T*ld ! Rhyme by J. T. Trswbridse.
She is known to all the town, in her quaintly,
fashioned gown,
And wide bonnet?you would guess it at the
Jiat&nM Af t mile :
\V?t her little sprigs of smilax, and her lavender
and lilacs,
Snowy napkins and big basket, and serenely
simple smile,
Sbo is jnst a little queer; and few gentlefolk,
I fear,
In their drawing-rooms would welcome that
benignant, beaming face ;
And the truth is, old Aunt Hannah s rather
antiquated manners
In some fashionable circles would seem eadiy
out of plaoe.
Yet there's something quite refined in her
manners and her mind.
As yon presently discover; and 'tis well
enough to know,
Everything last now so odd is in ths bonnst
and ths bodioe
Wis the very height of fashion five and forty
years ago.
8he was then s reigning belle; sod Pre heard
old ladies tell
How st all the balls and parties Hannah
Amsden took tne lead;
Porfe :t bloom and maiden sweetness, lily grace
of rare completeness,
Though the stalk stands rather stiffly now the
flower has gone to seed.
She had all th&t love could give, all that
makes it sweet to liveFond
caresses, Jewels, dresses; and with
eloauent appeal
Many a proud and rich adorer knelt?in metaphor?before
her;
Metaphorically only doee your modern lover
kneel.
if she heeded, 'twas beoause, in their worship,
their applaure,
Her perfection was reflected, and a pleasing
music heard;
Bat she suffered them no nearer than her goldfinch
or her mirror;
An 1 the hardly held them dearer than her
pier-^la b or her hisd.
But at last there came a day when eho gavo
her heart away?
If that rigut'y be called girlag wlioh is
neither choice nor will,
But a eh iroi, a fascination, and a wild sweet
exultationAll
the frerh young lifo outgoing in a strange
ecstatic thrilL
* 4
At a city baU, by ohance, she first met bis
ardent glaooo.
He was i either young nor handsome, but a
man of subtle parte,
With an e>e of such expression as your lover
by profession
Fmds an excellent possession when he goee
a-huntiog hearts. .
It oould trouble, it could burn; and when first
he chanced to turn
That fine glance on Hannah Amsden, it lit
up with swift desire.
With a sudden dilation, and a radiant admira
uvu,
And shot down her soul's doep heaven-like
meteor trailin^flr^.
How was a:.v one to know that tkoee eye* had
looked just so
On a hundred other women, with a gaze as
_ blight and strange ?
There are men who change their passions even J
oftener than their fashions,
And the beet of loving always, to their mind,
ii still to chango.
Nay, it was not base deceit; his own couqaeet
seemed oomplete
They were soon affianced lovers ; and her
opening life was filled
With the fiosh of flame-lit fancies, morning's
rosy-hued romances,
All the dews of hope an<f rapture love's delicious
dawn disti ed.
Home the country maiden went; and a busy
summer spent
AH in bridal preparations, blissful troubles,
happy woes;
Fitting dresses, filling preesee, little croeses
and distresses?
Those preliminary prickles to th* hymeneal
rose.
Never since the world began, course of true
love smoother ran;
Not an oddy of disiension, nor the ripple of
a doubt.
All the neighbors and relations came with kind
congratulations,
And ahondrel invitations to the wedding
feast went out
All the preparations thrived, ani the wedding
day arrived:
Pleased but pens ve moved the mother; and
tne iMuer wun a smue
Broad atd genial as the summer, gave a weloomo
to each oomer ;
AU things turned on golden hinges all went
merry for a while.
And the lovely bride, arrayed all in lacee and
brocade,
Orange bloesoms in her tresses (strange as
now the story seems),
Quite enchanting and enchanted, in ber chamber
blushed and panted,
Aud but one thing now was wanted to fulfill
her darling dreams.
For the clergyman was there, to unite the ;
happy pair,
And the guests were all aeeembled, and the
company sat dumb;
Aud the banquet was belated, and the maid
was still unmated,'
And the wedding waited, waited, for ? coach i
that did not come.
Then a few began to sneer, and a horror and a
fear
Fell on friends and anxious parents; and the
bride, with cheek aflame,
All too ru lely disenchanted, in her chamber
paced and panted ;
And the one thing still was wanted; and the
one thing newer came.
Glassy smiles and feeble chat?then The parson
took his hat,
And the wedding guests departed, glad to
breathe the outer air;
Till the last farewell was taken, kind word
offered, kind hand shaken ;
A?d the greet house stood foreaken In Its
chame and its despair
ySTDA
With a firmness justified less by hope, perhaps,
thin pride.
All her misery, all their pity, Hannah bore
without complaint;
Till her hasting mother met her, pale and
breathless, with a letter,
And she saw the superscription, and Bbrieked
" Frederick!" and grew faint.
With quick hand the seal she broke, and she
neither breathed nor spoke,
But a sudden ashy paleness all her fair
face overspread;
And a terror seemed to hold her, and her oheek
grew cold and colder
And her icy fingers rattled on the paper ae
she read.
In her oh amber once alone, on the floor she
lay like stone,
With her bridal gear about her?all that idle,
fine array;
And the white moon, white and holy, to her
chamber bar climbed slowly,
And looked in npon the lowly, wretched lady
where she lay^ *
Why the 1 tter was delayed, what the poor excuse
he madep
Mattered little there to Hannah lying on the
moon-lit floor.
Twas his heart that had miscarried; for some
new toy be had tarried;
In a fortnight he was married, and she never
saw him more.
Came the glorious autumn days?golden bills,
cerulean haze?
And s* J Hannah kept her ohamber with her
shame and her despair;
All the neighbors and relations came and offer
od consolations.
And the preacher preoohed np patience, and
remembered her in prayer.
Spite of all that they oould say, Hannah
Amsden pined away.
Camo the doll days of November, came the
winter, wild and white;.
Lonely, listless, hours together she would sit
and watch the weather,
Or the cold bright oonstellations pulsing in
the pallid night
For a twelvemonth and a day so poor Hannah
pined away.
Cams once more the fatal morning, came the
dread hoars that had been :
All the anguish she lived over, waiting, wailing
lor her lover.
Then the new dawn ahone about her, and a
fweeterdawr within.
All her soul bleached white and pure, taught
by suffering to endure,
Taught by Borrow to know sorrow, and to
bind the bleeding heart,
Now a pale and placid aiflter in tho world that
.'itely missed her?
Sweetly pale where peace had kissed her?
patient Hannah chose her part.
To do gcod was her delight, all her study day
and night;
And around her, like a fragance in the halo
rouDd a saint,
Breathed the holy exalation of her life and
oocupatioD.
But the rising generation eoou began to call
her quaint.
For her self-forgetfulness even extended to
her drees;
Milliner and mantuamaker never crossed
her threshold more;
But the bodice, and the bonnet with the wondrous
bow upon it,
Kept their never changing fashion of the
faded vears before.
So sb? f till goeu up &Dd down on her errands
through the town ;
Ac*. sometimes a schoolgirl titters, or an
urchin stops to grin,
Or avTlage our barks at her; but to her'tis
little matter?
You may fleer or you may flatter?such deep
peaoe her soul is iD.
Among all the sick and poor there is nobody so
sure
Of a welcome-and a blessing ; and who sees
her onoe appear,
Coming round some poor man's trellis with her
dainty pots of jellies,
Or big basket brimmed with bounty, soon
forgets that she is queer;
For her pleasant words, addressed to the needy
aud distressed.
Are so touching aud so tender, full of sympathy
and cheer, By
the time your smile is ready for the simple,
dear old lady,
It is pretty sure to tremble in tne balance >
with a tear.
?Harper's Magazine.
A Toothache Remedy.
Dr. Duckworth, of St Bartholomew's j
hospital, London, has recently success-1
fully used bicarbonate of soda as a j
remedy for severe toothache, when ap-1
plications of chloroform, either externally
to the cheek or to the ear, or placed
on cotton in the decayed tooth, failed ;
and when carbolic acid, applied as last
mentioned, also proved inoperative.
Pledgets of cotton, soaked in a solution
of thirty grains of bicarbonate of soda
in one fluid ounce of water, gave almost
instant relief. Dr. Duckworth considers
that very frequently the pain is due to
+V>q rtf ai'iH Rftlivn with thft dp
cayed tooth; and therefore it is important,
in cases of odontalgia, first to determine
whether the saliva had an acid
reaction. If this be the case, then a
simple alkaline application, as above
stated, is the most efficacious eaus of
cure.
Cases of toothache are such common
accompaniments to disordered stomach
that there seems every reason for the
trnth of the above author's conjecture.
Doubtless on the same ground is due
the efficacy of ammonia, so frequently
recommended, but wkich, if applied
: carelessly, is liable to produce more pain
by burning the gum than already exists
i in the tooth.
Bicarbonate of soda is found in every
! kitchen, and hence no more handy
remedy oould be devised, while it is
destitute of any painful effects ; and the
rationale of its operations and its simplicity
make us wonder why it has not
been thought of before. ,
The United States commissioner of
Indian affairs wants Congress to give
hiza an appropriation to enable him to
end a large delegation of our aborigines
to th? OonWnniaT exposition,
POR
RD A
BEAUFORT, S. (
A RURAL ENOCH ARDEN.
The Astounding Story of a Dead Farmer's
Return?James Swingle's Mysterious
Disappearance?The Midnight Cry of
Murder?-Discovery of a Hkeleton?
Marriage Complications.
Tho death of James Swingle, two '
miles from Silver Station, Pa., says a
letter from that place, saved his family
from the consequences of most serious 3
business and social complications.
The Swingle family is one of the 1
wealthiest in this section. James Swin- 1
gle was a farmer and had lived on the 1
farm where he died for thirty-five years.
Twelve years ago his wife died, and a
year and a half afterward, being sixty 1
years of age, he married a young woman 1
who had lived in his family for several 1
years. She was twenty-two years old. I
He had six children, all older than his 1
second wife, and three of them married.
She being an estimable woman, how- :
ever, the match was acceptable to all. j
Old Mr. Swingle was a prominent man
in the township, a devout member <
of the Baptist church and a man gener- 1
ally respected. 1
In the fall of 1865 Mr. Swingle^pur- 3
chased an addition to his farm for 1
$1,800. One rainy evening in October 3
of that year he left home with the above '
sum of money, telling his wife that he 1
was going to the station to pay it to '
Wiltsey. He did not return that night, 3
but the fact created no uneasiness, as he ]
occasionally remained over night iu the 1
village. Not appearing the next day, <
however,.inquiry was made for him at ^
Silver Station. He had paid the money
for his purchase and received his deed, 3
and had been seen to mount his horse 1
about nine o'clock in the evening, and
although it was very dark and stormy, I
start toward home. At that time there
was an organized gang of desperadoes
' * -_t _ 1 1
in tins region, whose exploits m noise '
and cattle stealing and other depreda- *
tions had made them a terror to the 1
people. They were under the lead of a !
man named Jim Smith, and it was be- 1
lieved by many that they were gnilty of '
blacker crimes than stealing horses. ^
When it became generally known that 1
Farmer Swingle had mysteriously dis- 1
appeared it was stated by several that '
two of the worst members of Smith's ^
gang?44 Feeny" Gowan and a Frenchman
named Dubois?had been seen at ^
the station that night, and it at onoe be- 1
came the general belief that the farmer
had been waylaid by them, robbed and 1
murdered, and his body hidden in the 1
woods. This theory was given a still ^
stronger foundation by the statement of
Mrs. Mary Mosher, a widow lady, who
occupied a house in a lonely place on '
the road about midway between the sta- 1
tion and the farmer's. She appeared in '
the village in the midst of the excite- 1
ment caused by the supposed murder, *
and said that some^hero about twelve i
o'clock on the night in question she was 1
awakened by the sound of voices in the
road in front of her house. She got up |
and looked out, but it was so dark she
could see nothing. As she was return |
^ it _ << if 1
ing to Dea sue neara tne cry "inurder!"
repeated twice; then the sound of 1
groans, and footsteps hurryiDg away
down the road. Afraid to go to sleep
again, with the cries ringing in her ears, (
Mrs. Moeher awaited the return of day, j
confident that it would reveal to her the
mutilated corpse of a murdered man?a
victim, no doubt, of Jim Smith's gang 1
of cutthroats. As soon as it was light
she looked out, but saw no evidence of
a murder. Going out into the road,
however, she discovered signs of astrng- J
gle, and several pools of blood.
This story settled any doubt that
might have existed ns to the murder of
the farmer, and armed bodies of men
hunted the woods for miles, seeking the
supposed murderers and the body of
the murdered man. The feeling of the
public agai st the Smith gang was so in-*
tense that the leader left the vicinity,
which resulted in the breaking up of
the organization, no member of which
has ever been seen hereabouts since.
The day after the disappearance of the
farmer his horse was found tied in the
woods near the road, about half a mile
from his house. The search for his
body was kept up for weeks, and large
rewards were offered for any information
that would lead to traces of his murderers,
all to no purpose. The matter at
Inst ceased to excite any interest in the
community, and was almost forgotten
aatra V.T7 liio familv mid lmmfirlifttfl
friends, when a circumstance oocurred
which brought it again forward as a
popular topic.
Some eighteen months after the farmer's
disappearance a man named Gable,
while fishing in Topee pond, on lands
belonging to the Swingle farm, a mil
or so from the house, discovered the
skeleton of a man lying on the west
shore of the pond. A cabin which had
been long known as a rendezvous of the
Smith gang stood hbout a quarter of a
mile from the spot, in a dense part of
the woods. Gable made his discovery
known, and the remains were gathered
up by the farmer's family, they behoving
that they were his, although there
was nothing found fixing their identity.
! They were buried in the family gravej
yard, and a stone setting forth the cir
; cumstances connected with Swingle's
I death was placed at the head of the
! grave. An administrator of the estate
j of the deceased was appointed, and his
' property equally divided among the
! children. The homestead fell to the
lOfc OI tue UlU intmtri o muvn, auu tuc
I youngest son, also named James, con
tinned to live there and superintend
operations on the farm.
In 1869 he married the widow of his
father, and the couple were living in unruffled
ease with three children that had
! been born to them, when in the early
part of last month the young father was
I given a letter at the village post-office
addressed " To any living member of
the Swingle family." The letter was
! postmarked at Cleveland, Ohio. Open!
rug the letter the farmer was astounded
, to find that it purported to be written by
I his father, long believed to be dead. It
! was as follows:
Cleveland, Dec. 30.
I am very sick and penniless among
strangers. I was on my way home when
taken sick. Some of you come to me at
once and I will explain all. I am at a
sailor's lodging house by the lake.
James Swingle.
i i'he letter was written in a cramped
r iro
lND <
3., THURSDAY. M
I
and trembling hand, but it resembled
specimens of the old farmer's writing of
years ago. The family was divided in
their opinion of the letter, some believing
it to be the work of some one who
was playing on their feelings, and others
were certain that it was gennine. All
agreed, however, that, in the latter case,
the return of the old man would result
in consequences the end of which it was
impossible to foresee and involve them
all in complications it would be impossible
to evade. The marriage of the
son James would be illegal, and his
children illegitimate; while the dispositions
that had been made of the old
man's property might lead to most disastrous
litigation. It was finally decided,
however, that one of the family
should proceed to Cleveland and investigate
the matter, and one of the sons
started at once for that city.
Arming there, he searoned the lodging
houses?as indicated in the letter?
and finally found one where there was a
Lodger by the name of Swingle. The
old man lay on a mattress on the floor
of a meanly-furnished room, and, although
greatly changed, was at onoe
recognized by his son. When the latter
made himself known the old man was
aearly beside himself with joy. He was
very ill with fever, and became delirious
soon after the arrival of his son, and it
was some days before he oould be removed
to better quarters. Three weeks
passed before he was in oondition to be
taken home, and during that time he
oould be induoed to say but little about
fun at.ra.rure disannearanoe. He said that
be left wLile under the influenoe of an
impulse which he oould not oontrol, and
ifter traveling about for a few days he
(ma ashamed to return, and resolved to
jo West with about $3,000 he had with
aim and invest it in some wav, and after
be had increased it sufficiently to return
borne and surprise his family. He went
bo California, and from there to Australia,
where he made $115,000 in five
fears and came back to California,
tvhere he lost it alL Thinking that he
eras drawing near his death, he determined
to return home, and was taken
rick with the fever at Cleveland. He
refused to enter into anv details of his
ben years' absence until he reoovered
from his illness.
The return of the supposed dead man
bo his native place created a still greater
sensation than his disappearance had.
Be was taken at or.ee to his old home,
ind the excitement again prostrated him
upon a bed of sickness. The chauges
bhat had occurred during his absence
were kept from him. His unfortunate
wife took her place at his bedside, and
occupied the painful position of one
striving by kind care and nursing to restore
one whose convalescence would destroy
her happiness and honor, and that
of the father of her children.. The
Tnmoo Svinorlo WflJl ftlmHSt
J UUU^Ci VOUil/D MnujQ*v .. ?~ ?
crazed at the situation of affairs, and it
was for a time necessary to keep him
under strict surveillance, as it was feared
be would take his own life. So complicated
were the family affairs that it
is not strange, when the physician attending
the old farmer announced that
it was impossible for him fo recover,
that they felt a sense of relief at the verdict.
He died as stated at the commencement
of this letter, and never*
knew the agony and suspense to which
his return had subjreted every member
of his family.
After the farmer ^as buried, the marriage
oerepaony between his son and
his widow was again performed, the
sympathy of the whole community being
with them.
The skeleton that was found at Lake
Topee again became a subject of speculation
after the reappearance of Swingle.
Ten years ago the section was a great
resort for cattle dealers, who went
through the country buying up stock. I
A drover named Gibson made frequent
visits here, and men with good memories
say that he was here about the time
that Swingle was missed, but has n )t
been here since. The theorists have
settled it that it was his cries of murder
which the Widow Moslicr heard on that
notable night, and that he was murdered
by some of Smith's gang and his body
carried to the pond and thrown in, it
subsequently being washed up where it
was found.
Ancient and Modern Prisons.
Most Americans who have traveled in
Europe have seen the dark cells built in
the foundations of the Doge's palace at
Venice, or those pecnliar boxlike structures
in the town halls of Ratisbon, Nuremberg,
and other places, where prisoners
were formerly penned in smaller
quarte than the dens of animals. They
are entirely dark, with but one small
opening, a ceiling only six or at most
seven feet high. No bed was supplied
the prisoner, and no one entered his
oell for any purpose whatever. What
confinement in such a pen must have
been can only be imagined from a i
port made by the surgeon-general upon
the hygiene of the United States army.
The cells in the guardhouse at Madison
barrack, Sacketts Harbor, JN. I., are
nine feet six inches high, and eight feet
eleven inches by four feet in area, and
he describes them as follows: "The
cells have no ventilation whatever, and
there is no light, except a narrow spot
that appears at an aperture near the
ceiling, twelve inches by three inches in
size. They are dark, cold, damp, and
gloomy, and in them a prisoner is
smothered and punished in a chilly
stony den in a style worthy of the dark
ages. The exhalations of a man in a
single night accumulate in sufficient
quantity to nearly extinguish a lighted
candle set on the floor. Jn them a man
is not only deprived of his liberty,
light, and his life's breath, but his own
effluvia turn upon him as a poison.
Happily they are seldom occupied.
A Bloodthirsty Jndge.
Recorder Haekett, of Ne v York, used
the following singular remarks in passing
sentence upon a criminal: "You
have also declared your readiness to kill
all who interfere with you, and go armed
for that purpose. I would like to meet
you some time when in your lawless
moods you are fixed for killing. I'd
teach you a lesson you would not forgot
as long as you live. I now sentence you
to two years, with hard labor, in the
penitent)
Domiv
ARCH 30, 1876.
BATHING AND BURNING.
Bennren. the Holy City of the Ganges?Ita
Funereal Pyres and Monkey Temple.
I
The correspondent of the London
Telegraph writes as follows : In view
at this moment are thousands of natives
bathing in the water, lapping it, washing
their clothes?if a waistcloth can be
called " clothes"?and taking up a ves- 1
selfol of the sacred water for the benefit 1
of their friends. The water is not bright 1
or clean. It might, were it not so sacred, j
be called very dirty. And there are just J
now, at any rate, some thousands of ]
people bathing in it continually. But it ]
is the holy river, and the worshipers of 1
the Ganges fill their mouths with the j
water, lave in it, drink of it, quite hap-,
pily. Every dip they take, every drop 1
they swallow, washes off moral unclean- 1
liness. To us strangers the sight is amaz- \
ing. Under the shadow of temple and
mansion alike, troops of men, women ]
and children are coming down the steps. 1
A short prayer, a momentary uplifting '
of the hands, a certain, or rather uncer- (
tain, rolling of the eyeballs, a id then a
plunge into the river. All along the 1
bank, huddled together against the land- '
ing stages,. in the stream up to their I
necks, clinging to the bamboo posts to 1
which boats are fastened, every devotee 1
is happy, each ready to pay for a garland (
of yellow flowers, each ready to make 3
the most of a liberation from the ill I
deeds of the past
While thinking about this unwonted 1
scene, the boatman attracts attention by ]
a touch on the arm, to say we are opposite
the burning ghaut. To be burned ]
at Calcutta or Bombay may be a sati&fac
tory contemplation for the dying native; 1
but to be placed on the funereal pyre at 1
Benares, to be first of all washed in the
Ganures. and then to have his ashes '
thrown into the sacred river, is indeed a !
happiness. As we look on the shore, ]
the Doat being drawn close to the edge, '
a cnrious sight meets our eyes. In a 1
little space, fashioned somewhat after :
the shape of an amphitheater, are three '
burning heaps of wood. Looking down
upon these, quite thirty feet high above
the pyres, and enveloped in the smoke, 1
are some forty or fifty men and women, 1
perched on the steps like so many rooks,
looking complacently down while the
remains of their relatives are being consumed.
Down at the water's edge, partly in
the water, indeed, are two human bodies. 1
One is that of a woman, the other of a 1
man ; each is wrapped in white linen. 1
Very little ceremony is needed, but that '
little is observed. The fire pile has been
prepared for the reception of the corpse
to be burnt. The body is therefore
placed by the side of the river and then
dipped into tho water, so that all the
sheet is covered. Lest there should be
any doubt about this, however, a vessel
of water is twice emptied over the head
of the corpse before it is removed, and
then the two men in attendance, lifting
the body, plaoe it upon the pyre ; logs
of wood thrown to them bv assistants
are laid on it; light, dry chips placed
beneath ; a torch is fetched, and the
light applied ; there is a blaze, and?of
the rest nothing need be said.
Benares is a holy city ; it is notable in
many other respects. Were nothing
more to be seen, the observatory, its
golden temple, its sacred well, and its
strange bazaar would give it the title to
| be ranked among the most notable
places in the world. But it has, in addition
to all these, and the most holy point
of the Ganges, long groves of treesorange,
citron, plantain, and palm?and
the most singular monkey temple in the
world. On arriving at the temple we
were supplied with a plate of parched
peas and a number of white sweetmeats,
of which it was said the monkeys had
many times signified their approbation,
and, thus furnished, we entered the
temple. Up in the neighboring trees,
on the walls and the roofs of houses, in
the roads chasing luckless children, and
on the front* of the shops, these creatures
seemed to bo everywhere. That
they were mischievous was also undoubted,
for now and then they would
hurl stones or pieces of wood at passersby
with an aim bv no means to be deaniHAfl
nr wmilrl lean over the wall and
quietly snap off the turban of some
thoughtless pedestrian, who might shout
and call not only the monkey, but the
monkey'8 sister and mother?the approved
style of abuse here?all kinds of
unpleasant names ; but his turban might
be considered as gone, all efforts of its
owner notwithstanding, and the best
thing he could do would be to buy another
puggaree as quickly as possible.
Our entry to the temple was a signal for
a general assemblage of these pleasant
animals. They tumbled down from the
minarets of the temple, they came over
the walks by scores, they wriggled
through holes and crevices, and rushed
in at the doorways. Fortunately, they
were peaceably inclined, and as the stock
of sweetmeats and peas was large, and
their hunger not great?for they are fed
on an average fifty times a day by pilgrims
and worshipers?they wore content
to take what was thrown them, and,
filling their cheeks as full as possible,
make off.
Suggested by James Parton's Marriage
I married a widow who had a grownup
step-daughter. My father visited
! my house very often, fell in love with
my stop-danghter, and married her. So
my father became my son-in-law, and
my step daughter my mother, because
she was my father's wife. Some time
after my wife had a son; he was my
j father's brother-in-law, and my uncle;
j for he was the brother of my step-daughj
ter. My father's wife, that is, my step|
daughter, also had a son; ho was, of
! course, my brother, and in the meani
time my grandchild, for he was the son
i of my daughter. My wife was my
grandmother, because she was my
! mother's mother. I was my wife's hus|
band and grandchild at the same time,
| and as the husband of a person's grandmother
is his grandfather, I was my own
grandfather.
" Ain't it pretty?" said Mrs. H., holding
up'her new bonnet. "There's some
charming ideas in that, I can tell you."
; i " Qlad of it." said John. "It's just as
j well to have ideas somewhere about your
i head, you know," and he paused to
\ catch a hair brush on th? fly,
IERC1
$2.00 per
Character in Handwriting.
Many people laugh, says a writer in
on English magazine, at what is called
graptomancy, or the art of judging
characters by handwriting, and yet all
acknowledge that handwriting does indicate
something. Every one allows a
difference between a man's and a
woman's hand. We hear people speak
of a vulgar hand, a gentlemanly hand, a
clerkly hand, and so forth. I had once,
said Archbishop Wheatly, a remarkable
proof that handwriting is sometimes, at
least, an index to character. I had a
pupil at Oxford whom I liked in most
respects greatly. There was but one
thing about him which seriously dissatisfied
me, and that, as I often told
him, was his handwriting. It was not
bad as writing, but it had a mean,
shuffling character in it, which always
inspired me with a feeling of suspicion.
While he remained at Oxford I saw
aothing to justify this suspiaion ; but a
transaction in which he was afterward
engaged, in which I saw more of his
character than I had done before, convinced
me that the writing had spoken
truly. But I knew of a much more
curious case, in which a celebrated
graptcmancer was able to judge of
character more correctly by handwriting
than he had been able to do by personal
cbservation. He was on a visit to a
friend's house, where, among other
guests, he met a lady whose conversation'
and mannys greatly el ruck him,
ind for whom he oonoeived a strong
friendship, based on the esteem he felt
for her as a singularly truthful, pure
minded and single hearted woman. The
lady of the house, who knew her real
character to be the very reverse of what
she seemed, was curious to know
whether Mr. Blank would be able to
discover this by her handwriting. Ao
cordingly she "procured a slip of this
lady's writing (having ascertained he
had never seen it) and gave it to him
one evening as the handwriting of a
friend of hers whose character she wished
him to decipher. His nsoal habit,
when ho undersook to exercise this
power, was to take a slip of a letter, cut
down lengthwise iso as not to show any
sentences, to his room at night and to
bring down his judgment in writing the
next morning. On this occasion, when
the party were seated at tlio breakfast
table, the lady whose writing he had
unconsciously been examining made
some observation which particularly
struck Mr. Blank as seeming to betoken
a very noble and truthful character. He
expressed his admiration of her sentiment
very warmly, adding at the same
tima to the lady of the house : " Not so,
by the way, your friend," and he put
into her hand the slip of writing of her
guest which she had given him the evening
before, over which he had written
the words : " Fascinating, false and
hollow hearted." The lady of the house
kept the secret, and Mr. Blank never
knew that the writing on which he had
pronounced so severe a judgment was
that of the friend he so greatly admired.
In Ihc Household.
There is a pretty story of a French
country family, which every mother
should read to teach her the true practical
method of charity. She would learn
how, in the careful pious French
# .1 .il;
woman's menage, no scrap 01 ciouung
or fcod is suffered to go to waste ; and
how the value of old garments is doubled
by their being cut and altered to fit the
poor children to whom they are given.
We propose that every housekeeper who
reads this shall begin to make of this
year a prolonged Christmas. Let her
first find one or more really needy families
who are willing to work, and therefore
deserve such help as she can give.
This is a much safer outlet for her
charity than any agency or benevolent
society. In every household there is a
perpetual stock of articles?clothes, bedding,
furniture?too shabby for use,
and which in the great majority of cases
are torn up, thrown away, or become
the perquisites of greedy servants already
overpaid. As soon as the housemother
has some definite live objects of
charity in her mind, it is astonishing
how quickly these articles accumulate,
and how serviceable they beoome by aid
of a patch here, or tuck there, sewed by
her own skilled fingers. Our children
should each be allowed to give away
their own half-worn clothes or toys.
The shoes or top given in the fullness
of their little hearts to some barefoot
Marv or Bob whom they know, will
teach them more of the spirit and practice
of Christian charity than a dozen
missionaries boxes full of pennies foi
the far-off heathen. The same oversight
should be exercised by the^nother of a
family in the matter of food. Enough
wholesome provision, it is safe to say, is
wasted in the kitchen of every well-to-do
American family to feed another of half
its size. Very few ladies will tolerate
regular back gate beggars, and the cold
meat, bread, etc., go into the garbage
cart, because nobody knows precisely
what to do with them, A woman ol
society, or one with dominant sesthetic
tastes, will very likely resent the suggestion
that she should give half an
hour daily fco the collection and distribution
of this food to her starving neigh
bors. But if they go unfed whal
apology will it be for her in the time oi
closing accounts that her weekly recep
tions were the most agreeable in town \
If she would establish, for instance, e
o/inr? Hicrpsfcpr on the back of hei
l/i6 07
range, and insist that all bones or ecratx
should go into it, her own hands conic
serve out nourishing basins of broth t<
many a famishing soul the winter round,
and really it would be r s fine a deed ai
though she had conquered Chopin 01
the ivory keys.?Scribner.
The Winslows.
The pastor of the church to which thi
family of WinsJow, the forger, belonget
has written a letter in which he deniet
that either the parents or relatives o
the criminal were of bad character, a
has been reported. The father of th<
: forger is spoken of as a person of feebl<
health and of upright Christian charac
ter, while the mother was noted for he
strongly sympathetic and religious na
ture. "They came," he says, "fror
the town of Barnard, Vt., and are no
of the family of Winelowa from Barre
Haw.
AL.
K >
Anunm. Single Cop; 5 Cents.
Items of Interest.
Motto for a yeast factory?" Early to
bread and early to rise."
In England thirty-nine per cent, of the
population are married, in Ireland thirty
per cent, and in Germany only nineteen
per oent.
Country boys in England average an
inch and a quarter more in height
and seven pounds more in weight than,
city boys.
The friends of a Boston lady tele- ,
graphed from Paris that she was "no
worse," and the cable said " no more."
She was mourned as dead for nearly two
days.
The world is a looking glass and gives
back to every man the reflection of his
own faoe. Frown at it and it will in
turn look surly upon you; laugh at it,
and with it, and it is a jolly, kind companion.
Much distress still prevails among the
laboring classes in Canada. Over 1,000.
men, all heads of families, have applied
for work on the improvements of the
Lachine canal, where only 100 men will
be employed.
A young person, describing the looks
of a newly arrived M. C. from the far
West, as he appeared at the Washington
depot, says : 44 He looked as if he had
oome all the way across the continent on
the hurrioane deck of a mole."
In Manchester, England, two fine
horses attached to a brougham took
fright, dashed through a restaurantfwin*
dow, and forced their way to the middle
of the room. They were badly cut, and
the damage altogether is estimated at
?200 to ?300.
At Logansport, Ind., while several
children were playing together, the
four-year-old daughter of Eliaa Wag
oner thrust her tongue tnrougn ue
crack of the room door, which one of
hor playmates instantly slammed to,
cutting off nearly one half of the member.
An editor received the following :
" Dear sir?I have looked carefully and
patiently over your paper for six months
for the death of some individual I was
acquainted with, but as yet not a single
soul I care anything about has dropped
ofT; you will please to have my name
erased."
A Chinaman in San Francisco was
rudely poshed into the mud from a street
crossing by an American. He picked
himself np very calmly, shook off some
of the mod, bowed very politely,. and
said, with a mild, reproving tone to
the offender : " You Christian, me
heathen; good-bye!"
When the sultan of Turkey goes to
the opera he is followed by servants,
bearing a load of edibles. This is not a
bad idea. When some of our young
men go to the theater or opera they
should be followed by servants bearing *
a keg of beer. This would obviate the
necessity of said young men going oat
between the acts to get a dove to chew.
It may be laid down as a safe rule that
you should always know whom yon are
marrying. A Cincinnati man married a
woman the other day of whom he knew
nothing except that her name was Mary,
and he is not sure that she did not lie
"" * * # L-m
about tliat, ts slie Has since leu ior put us
unfcnow - taking vrithher all the household
goods, including even her husband's
spare clothing.
Person with cold in his head to person
opposite (referring to open window
in railroad car): "Say, wid you shud up
that wi'dow t" Middle-aged woman in
weeds, who has been talking for the
last half-hour, turning around indignantly:
"What do you mean, sir? It
is a pretty how-de do when a woman
can't open her mouth! I'll have you to
know you can't shnt me up!"
A case that puzzled a London magistrate
was that of a woman who had
assailed her husband with an ax, If he
sent her to prison, the husband would
have to hire somebody to care for her
children while she was incarcerated. If
he fined her, the husband would have to
pav the sum. If he put her under bonds
to keep the peace, the husband would be
responsible. She was discharged with
ah admonition.
He was a Washington boy, and, wo
; are sorry to say, it was his first visit to
' church. As ho came down the steps,
the little fellow that had accompanied
i him asked : " Bill, how d'ye like it ?"
; " Putty good," was the reply.
. " 'Twasn't good as Buffler Bill, but I
tell yer, Sam, I was sorry for that feller.
"Sorry for him; why ?" " Why.
he cum out there, dun 'tall by nisself,
; and didn't get nary clap."
A Rich Engineman.
, The Jersey City Argus rays: Lloyd
t Clark, an engineer on the Long Branch
J division of the Central railroad, is
probably the richest man holding each .
a position in the country. Por several
r years he ran an engine on the Central
( Pacific road, during which time, becom,
ing seized with the speculative fever,
Via lannehed out. buying and selling gold
and stocks, always with success, until at *
. the end of five years he o*me East, the
, owner of between $75,000 and $100,000.
. He established himself in New York
I with a view of living in a manner con.
sistent with his meaus, but such a life
f was too irksome, and after several att
tempts he gave up the experiment, and
, securing a position on the Central went
5 to work at his favorite business. Mr.
I Clark is one of seven brothers, all of
y whom are railroad engineers in different
parts of the world.
I "Couldn't Fool Him."
They tell this story of a Maine greenhorn,
who recently made a visit to Boston:
Seeing a hotel sign, he entered
and inquired the price of lodging.
9 "One dollar," said the obliging cierk,
1 handing him a pen and pointing to the
a register. '"What am I to do with this
f here pen ?" said the rustic. " Why,
s put your name on the book," said the
b clerk, "and I will assign you a room at
9 once." "Not as you known on," said
i- the voung man from Maine, " you don't
9 catch me. My father signed his name
onct onto a book, sich as those 'ere
a patent right fellows carry round?not
t nigh so big as that? and he had t- pay
i, $1,000. No, sir, 'ee, I ken pay my
way, but I don't sign no note, you bet I"