I TBI
>, f .=
^ TOL. Y. NO. 5
My Baby Sleeps.
The htphyleeps?why wi'l ve rnoru and bigh,
Yeruwv? let her rest;
The pa'eV>Ted face that 'mid the flowers lie
BpeaJiiti'TOur aching breast:
44 My lot fc light; oh wherefore weep ?
I lay me town in peace and s'eep "?
The baby sleeps.
The bair sleeps?how bleat she slumbers on.
Uneonacons of alarm!
That heart, unsoil'd, unstain'd, has
No eaxffl Hi coa'd harm ; t
1 A mixStotpttre. a sin'css breast ?
L This tap eo :.4i on wliich to rest 5
The baby s eeps.
I The bm?loeps?ia r th' s joys or cares no more
I Will bjk thai areet repose ;
Yet kif.*c what might have been in store
^' Por help* bitter W&s.
She fcfinot winter's ehil'iug sleet,
v Nor summer's fierce and su'trv heat?
y ^ The baby s eeps.
1 The babf s'eep;.?'tig but a calm, short night
^ mat peace* ui uuk- ?*m j?*ov
And oli! bow bright the morn that greets her
sight
N WheD the brief rest is past!
He Who, unbounded in His wi1>,
Soothed Jtiros, ;ivee and comforts stiM?
The baby Bleeps.
The babyjleeps?the last sad kiss now pr</s<
Tpou thirlips so still ;
The Father help thee in thy sore distre*,
For, mother, 'tis His will.
And as yo? hear the solemn knell
Ring ye tfi? hymns she loved so wel>
Tlie baby sle^ft "
The baby e'eeps?now, Father, tike her home :
ThiAe f off eternity. ,
L te Jrakenstan. look down froii heaven's dome ; j
L wbBch o'er her tenderly.
W An<4 oh, J$ winds, breath s?Tt and still
[ Beimeath this txeaswed flo^-r decked hill?
f ^ The Aabv sleeps.
| J i i' .
1/ The Phantom Light.
A TffljttLLING GHOST STORY. !
11, ww about eleven o%lock at night. '
Nellie and I were sitting by the bow \
I window in our drawing-room, wbieh she !
I had thrown wide open. The day had
1 bden moat oppressively hot, but now a
A faint brefpi was coming in from the sea,
B mist refnahiuglv welcome after tlie sulm
try, stifling heat of the day.
T* W___ i
4w WW -wuir inia-?Luai JJVII, *rnct *
Ikil^uss ok*, boli -ngn only to a perfectly j
lay the j
| yard or two of garden, then tlie long,
f straight line of the promenade, with its !
asphalt walk and drive dimly defined by !
a shadqary row of white posts connected":
by oru?nental chains. Beyond the em- ?
b.uikm<pt lay the wide, desolate waste j
of sanck, stretching away for miles on
either land.
The file was far out, so far out that
*
only a jort of pale gray gleam on the
t- horizon showed where the sea was just
beginnfeg in creep over the shoals and ;
| sandbars off the Southport coast.
I Seven mles away to the right, across the
f eahmijjf the Ribble, tlie steady light
from tj*Lvtham lighthouse kept vigi- i
lant wfch and ward over the dangerous j
Horse fcuikj-Jthat treacherous, dangerous i
shoal 4 which many a good ship had 1
P"jJ|i?ohe 4 its doom of shipwreck and i
' death.)
Keifs was leaning out of the window, j
< hear ei|ow ou tlie sill, her eyes fixed 011
J thq maty, soft darkness outside. It was j
r as dap iuside as outside; we had no
thongfct ot lighting the gas that long j
summr evening.
44 I^w still it is !" she said, dreamily.
44 Whd a spell of solemn silence the
nightpys on evrrything !"
As | to contra<lict her words, a faint i
soumMfce a far off voice seemed to rise !
frpm Jje sands l>elow, and swept by with J
a propnged, mournful cry.
44 Tfhat is that ?'* she asked, startled.
44 S^BQe one ctdi'ng down on the
K saml\* I said. 44.. le intense stilluess
carries the sound a great distance at
night?
441'heard such a wild legend this j
mornpg/' she went on, presently, "connects!
with those great deserts of sand
>s that ifcetch over toward Lvtham. Old
Joe, lie boatman, says they are haunted ;
by afliantom voice.
41 B ?w thrilling!" I remarked, sceptically.
44 What d;>es it say ?"
"Itaii't scoff, Jean," said Nellie, a lit- i
tie lAxedlr. " It is a moat pathetic,
dreadful legend. Years ago, before
thereiras a tows here at all, people used
to ciisa tlie sitnds between here and
Lytlfctn on horseback. One stormy even- j
ingjftraveler had crossed as usual, and
had almost reached the shore, when suddenly
a bright light appeared, hovered
fdr a moment over a spot a yard or two
away, and tlieu vanished. At the same
moment a piteous, unearthly cry echoed
all around. The horse became wild with
terrsr, and broke loose, throwing his
rider to the ground. When he recovered
himself, he found, lying on the ground
at liis feet, tlie body of a beautiful young
girl. She was ouite dead, with a ghastly
woi? (i iu her side, from which the blood
bad flowed all over her white dress.
t4The traveler staggered away to the
nearest house, got assistance, and had
the girl's body hiid in an upper room.
"That night an awful storm arose. A
ship was wrecked on the Horse Bank;
h and only one man, the captain, saved.
I He was Wk?n to the same house where
I tlie traveler had fiready found shelter,
r and, by some mistake, was put into the
L rojrtbi^where the murdered git-l was lying.
L /* sitrhft oL*k&Lk?JQ*c an aPP'dling
aid fell down eenscloes. Whoa
r4fP" 'questioned, and con
C BE
i feased tliat the beautiful young girl was j
Ilia wife, whom in a moment of rage and !
! jealousy lie had stabbed to the heart and
' cast into the sea. And the sea had given i
up her dead, and the waves had cast him
' 011 shore, and the murderer and his vie- ,
i tim were face to face. And now they say
{ the voice of the murdered girl haunts the
I place where she wa.% found. It seems to
1 rise from the sands'and goes echoing and
; wailing along, calling, calling, as if in
j mortal agony. The old boatman says
j people have followed it, believing some
! one was in peril, and have been lured on
! and oh, till the tide has overtaken them,
! and they were drowned."
" What a horrible tale !" I said, with a j
j shudder. " I wish you had not told it
j to me."
"And he says," went on Nellie, un(
heeding my remark, "that whoever hears
the voice is in risk of great peril or danger,
or some kind of sorrow or trouble is
about to happen to him."
Nellie's voice had unconsciously taken
j a tone of awe. The still, somber dark1
ness, the midnight hour, and the weird
melancholy legend had infected us both
with an undefined sensation of oppression
and fear, a presentiment of dread and
evil.
We kept our places by the window,
looking <?ut into the deep velvety darkness,
with the far-away solitary light
from the lighthouse gleaming like a red
spark.
Suddenly, while we sat, the sound of a
voice rose up again from the louely
sands, a moaning, pit-eons voice wailing
and imploring as if in unutterable distress.
It seemed to mingle with the
boom of the distant sea, now rising, nowfalling,
a lonely desolate wail, thrilling
through the darkness like a soul in mortal
agony. It was dying away in the
distance, in a low, faint sob, when Nellie
suddenly sprung back into the room.
" Oh, Jean, look !*' she cried. "Look,
the phantom light!"
I leaned out of the window and gazed
out along the promenade. Flashing
through the somber darkness like a great
star was a brilliant beautiful light. It
came rapidly toward us frem the right,
apparently floating in the air, and illuminating
the space l>efore it for several
yards. It advanced very swiftly, with a
steady, forward motion, floating along
about a yard from the ground. As it
came nearer we perceived, looming dimly
behind it, a" giant shadow, weird and
grotesque, with outspread wings and
misty, undefined form, while a sharp
rustliug, whirring sound accompanied its
progress.
As the phantom approached the desolate
moaning rose again from the sands
and swept along in low, shuddering cries,
dying away sad and piteous as before. |
"?* ' ? 4* l 1 > < 1 1 11 1 ' Vl 1 |
WitU tne iasi iaini souuu, me ugui leaped
up for one second into intense brilliancy
and disappear*!
"Oh !" crie<l Nellie, fearfully "What
is it, Jean ?"
"I don't know," I replied, a feeling
of unaccountable dread and horror taking
hold of me. The very demon of j
fear seemed to possess my senses, an icy 1
gras \> of terror laid hold of my heart.
The air outside seemed to have become !
suddenly clammy and cold, a chilly eerie !
wind crept in at the window. The very J
darkness seemed tilled with shapes, j
hideous and impalpable, at which I
dared not look, lest they should hike
form before mv eves.
" There it is again !" shuddered Nel- |
lie.
And with unutterable dread we saw
the brilliant star-like light again floating !
toward us, this time from the right hand, i
It came swiftly, with the impalpable i
fantastic shadow in the air above it, and i
when exactly opposite, vanished.
We s;it paralyzed with terror, not dar- j
ing to move, u horrible benumbing ter- ;
ror seizing our hearts.
nm 1 1 1 1 i
j. ms pnenoiuenon nuppeneu several j
times, the light alternately appearing ;
from the right ami left, ami always vail- j
isliing when exactly opposite to us, and j
always accompanied by the moaning
voice.
Again the low wailing sounds from the
sands, profoundly melancholy, inexpres-:
siblv mournful, like notliing akin to hu- \
inanity. No worths were uttered, but the |
agony of the tones was like a voice from
the grave.
"Jean, Jean, here it is again !" cried
Nellie, cowering in my arms.
And once more the brilliant phantom
light appeared. This time it came on
more slowly, glancing to and fro un- j
steadily, while the shadowy* form behind j
seemed more grotesque and misty than
ever.
" Oh, Jean, if it is true ! If it comes
to foretell some loss, some trouble!"
sobbed Nellie, in tears.
44 TTiigV> lmoli rlcnr T + I/i car
reassuringly. 4 4 It cannot be. Sorrow
may eorue to us if God wills it, but r.ot
through "?
"I say, old fellow,''shouted a voice
down below in tlie darkness. " You'll
frighten somebody into fits with that
lantern dodge of yours. You and your
confounded bicycle look like some horrible
ghostly specter, flitting along in
the dark. Yon gave me a precious start, I
can tell you."
Nellie and I jumped to our feet, and
gazed incredulously out of the window.
I>own below in the road, a vard or two
.
to the right, the phantom light stood ;
stationary at last. In the glare before it
a young fellow wjis standing, while behind
loomed the fantastic, mysterious
tjjadow, robbed of all its terrors ia a mo*
aeat,
^ V -
, J - ^ .
' * * ^
% >
:aui
AND PORT
I
BEAUFORT, S. C
" Isn't it n stminiiic dodsre?" said the
shadow, in most unghostlv slang. "You
see, Jack, this asphalt's lirst-rate to
practice on; but a fellow has no chance
in the daytime for those confounded car- >
riages; so I rigged out this dark lantern ,
and fastened it to my bicycle, and I can
spin along in peace now."
" Take care you don't spin away the 1
wits of all the old maids on the promenade,"
returned the other. " You look
most horribly like some goblin from the ;
lower regions, with your dark lantern '
flashing in front, those noiseless wheels
and your long legs and arms spread out
like great wings behind."
The other laughed.
" The old maids are all fast asleep |
long ago, bless their old eyes!" he returned,
irreverently. "But I say, Jack, i
the match for the four oars will have to j
be put off to-morrow; we are going to
have an awful storm. Listen ! How !
the wind sighs and moans among the ,
girders of the pier ! It sounds for all >
the world like some one calling out in
distress, and it's a sure sign of rough ;
weather. What a rage Gregory will be
in if "?
The tww old maids had heard quite
enough. Nellie and I looked at each
wflioi- uliaATviatilr if mimf, COT1- i
VSKUWJ. lOWIVX , ...
fessed, ftiid then burst into ft hearty
laugli. .
The Oil Yield.
At this time, says nn exchange, the en- j
tire yield of crude petroleum suitable for
the making of illuminating oil is about i
27.000 to 28,000 barrels per diem, of
which two-thirds go to the foreign
market. That is at least 10,000 per diem ,
less than the yield of eighteen mouths or
two years ago, and producers expect a
still further decline duing the winter to |
22,000 or 23,000 barrels per diem. The '
production of to-day is actually not ,
equal to the consumption, and the deficit j
is felt more and more as the excessive j
old stocks are being worked off", so that ;
there seems no reason to doubt the !
legitimacy of the advance in price of refined
oils from the 10j@llc. of near two !
years ago to the 20} @27}c. of the present. !
There are no more of the great flowing I
wells pouring out hundreds of barrels
daily. The borings have been pushed i
down'successfully through the first, sec-j
ond, third iunl fourth sandstones until ,
they have gone to enormous depths; tor- :
podooH have.from time to time broken up 1
the hidden reservoirs in the bowels of '
the earth and temporarily improved the !
yield; new wells have been sunk with
varying, but generally very moderate
success, powerful pumps have been in- j
vented and applied, still a diminution of j
the supply. At the rate of decrease in
production which has beeu maintained ot ;
late years?with the exception of the i
temporary improvement eflfected a year j
and a half or two years ago, when the
oil wells wore generally stimulated to mi- j
wonted activity by the exploding of j
dynamite torpedoes in them?it will take ,
the world only a short time to work a
point when oil will lie scarce. It is i
hardly to be expected that the wells will ,
all absolutely dry up and yield nothing j
in that time?although they may do so.
Vigorous pumping, lucky finds of new
wells, and judicious doctoring of old i
ones, will doubtless afford some oil for
almost all time, but it will be scarce, and J
consequently dear. Up to thirty cents
per gallon, kerosene is the cheapest
illuminator of equal effectiveness that
the world knows. Up to sixty cents it j
will still be cheaper than candles at j
eighteen cents per pound. But beyond
that figure it must bear a fancy price. !
i
Necessity of Coolness in Danger.
Panic is, of course, one of the things
against which it is most easy to preach .
but which it is most difficult to preach 1
down. Still, if it could be got into the
heads of all people in their cooler hours
th.it, in case of an alarm of fire in a 1
theater, the principal danger to the an- j
ilience comes from themselves and is in
their own control, it is probable that,
even under the influence of sudden ex- :
citement and fear, manv who now would
7 show
a bad example might then show a
good one. Not very long ago a sadden \
alarm took place in one of the best of the
Paris theaters. It was not an alarm of.
fire, it was only a clattering and crash- I
ing among the branches, chains and 1
lamps of the huge glass chandelier which
hung from the roof. Those who were ,
under the chandelier thought it was com- j
ing down on them, and made wildly for ;
the doors. The theater was well enough |
constructed, and had many outlets, but i
in an instant some of the passages wero j
oompletely'jammed and choked by ex-!
cited people. Luckily a single in- j
stant was enough to allow one of the (
performers on the stage to see and ex
plain she whole cause of the alarm, and
to con* ince the fugitives that there
was no danger. The whole stampede .
was set going by the sudden pattering of
hailstones through an open window
among the metal .and glass of the chan- i
delier. In that instance the alarm was
s
but momentary, and in many parts of
the house was unobserved. Yet it was
evident to ail cool observer** that had it ;
lasted only a few seconds longer and i
been allowed to spread, the passages ,
and doors would have been hopelessly i
choked by a panic stricken crowd, and
some loss of life most infallibly have
occurred.
It is mean to snicker in yomj^AArt
when a woman slips down
rush to hT cJsist&nce with
eyes, and tell her how sorry
ROYAL C<
r
THURSDAY, JA
The Parisian Poste-Restanto.
Another very curious division of theParisian
post-office is that of the posterestante.
The passion for intrigue that
forms so prominent a feature in Parisian
social life finds there an ample field for
its manifestations. Thither come wives
that write to other hien tlinn their husbands,
husbands that correspond with
other ladies than their wives, schoolboys
that hazarded a declaration of their feelings
to Theo or to Croizette, etc. One
strict law of this department is, that no
letter shall be placed in the hands of any
one save the person to whom it is addressed.
Thus, if a jealous spouse comes
to find out if there are any lette/s for
his or her suspected wife or husband, the
only response obtained will be : "That
is none of your busiuess." A story is
told how, on one occasion, a gentleman
violently excited entered the office,
dragging rather than leading with him a
young and very pretty woman, who was
pale as death and trembling from head
to foot. Indicating his terrified com
panion by a sign, he said to a clerk in
attendance: "My wife, Madam Y.,
wishes to know if there are any letters
for her ?" The impassive official took
down the packet of letters marked V.,
ran them over and answered : " There
are none, sir," evidently much to the
relief of the lady. An hour later she
returned alone, through still pale and
agitated. The moment she made her
* ? ? n 1.1
appearance the clerk took irom ine packei
a letter bearing her name and presented
it to her. She commenced an eager
speech of thanks, which was cut short
by the simple announcement: "The
person to whom a letter is addressed has
alone the right to receive it."
The poste-restaute often serves as a
trap to catch the smaller class of malefactors,
such as ruuhway wives or 'defaulting
bank clerks. Such gentry usually
come to Paris as a secure hiding
place. Their names are communicated ;
to the police, and through them are
placed upon a list, called the yellow
list, of the post-office. If one of these i
persons ventures to the post-restante to i
claim a letter, the nanje given is repeated
by the cleyk in a loud tone?a very simple
and natural proceeding, and one thut
awakens no suspicious. But its object is
to give warning to a detective concealed
in a back room, by whom the culprit is
immediately followed, and soon after he
is in the hands of "the law. - - ?
The Rise In Siker.
Dr. Linderman, in the course of an interview,
fully reported in the San Francisco
Chronicle, attributed the rise of
pilver to the heavy purchases of coin
which the United States government
has been makieg in Loudon and on the
Pacific slope, and the enormous demand
for silver in China. The future of the
silver market would depend, he said,
mainly upon the legislation of the United ;
State and Germany. "There is now,"
he continued, "about SI,000,000 worth
of bullion at the mint waiting to be con-'
verted into trade dollars. The government
will need hereafter about $1,500,000 |
in silver monthly, and it is probable that
no more purchases will be made abroad. !
From $12,000,000 to $15,000,000 is likely j
to suffice for the silver demands of China, j
If the market continues as good in China
as for the last four mouths there is no
doubt that much Mexican bullion will
come to San Francisco and be shipped
hence to Chinese ports. India is likely
to consume $35,000,000 yearly, or about
half the annual silver product of the
world I do not think the double standard
would be a good thing for this
country. I think we should keep the j
gold basis, with subsidiary silver for com- i
mon use, fixing the amount for legal:
tender at $10. We have now, as I esti- j
mate, in this county $150,000,000 in gold j
and less than $40,000,000 in silver, ex- j
elusive of plate. Of this amount, there *
is frem $25,000,000 to $30,000,000 in subsidiary
coin, and from $0,000,000 to $8,000,000
at the mints."
The Dying Lion.
A French officer who has served many i
years in Algeria writes an interesting ac-1
coimt of a dying lion. Fangless, covered
with mngne, and blind, is the king of
lxoocfa ah nnnwin/iliiiirr ilia pIaua nf liia
VI* 1 V'MV*i *1*^ i**V V*V?V V* MAW (
reign. When not lying mournfully pros- j
trate and alone in some sheltered nook
or behind some friendly mound over-t
grown with shrubbery, lie feebly skulks
within a small circuit ef his lair in quest
of a morsel of prey, which in his de- '
crepitude he rarely succeeds in obtaining.
At this stage of his career, if liis ;
scent does not utterly ftiil him, liis sole
resource for nutrition is an occasional nest
of field mice. Inferior animals smell
at him fearlessly, and paw him with insolence,
for the forest monarch, dethroned
by disease, is incapable of resistance. 1
Often the rustic Arab comes upon his {
majesty in his utter helplessness and I
ends his troubles with a blow of a club.
A swindling company in Texas has sold j
100,000 lots in a city that has no exist- !
1 -11 L e. '
once. I'eopie m an purus or me tunm
States liave been bitten. Any man who j
expects to get a hundred dollars for one j
will get disappointed.
The authorities of a prison in Canada
advertise as follows : Wanted, a respect
t-t as turnkey in a county j
ivho understands music,
rgan and sing bass would
? '
T T
?
DMMERCIAL.
NDARY 4, 1877.
. r
Extraordinary Wheat Culture.
A correspondent of the Sun Francisco
Bulletin says: It has been my good forj
time during tlie past six months to wit-1
ness the growth and yield of wheat,
planted and cultivated in a way new to
most people, of which I propose to give
you a statement. D. 0. Bissell, who re,
sides in Goose Lake valley, Modoc couu- .
ty, California, is a practical as well as a
theoretical farmer. He holds that the 1
! old mode of wheat raising?that is, of !
1 sowing from 100 to 150 pounds of grain j
I per acre?is wrong, contrary to the true |
principles of agriculture, an unnecessary
waste of seed and exhaustive to the soil.
In conversation with a party of friends ,
| (farmers) he presented that preposition,
stating further that he could raise forty
j bushels of wheat to the acre from one
pound of seed The idea being scouted
as impossible he offered to wager $20
that he could do it. The wager was ac- :
copted, whereupon Mr. Bissell, oil the !
- airrVifK /Iott nf lniif A mil nrooccded to out ;
V"V ? X >r I ?
liis proposition to the proof by having
one-eighth of an acre carefully menaced ;
: in the presence of witnesses. It was
subdivided into spaces about nineteen by j
thirty-seven inches apart, and two ounces
of seed were planted, the seed having
been carefully weighed, the grains
counted, and the ground spaced so as to j
take but one seed in each place. It was j
j then irrigated and cultivated like Indian j
I com.;
Now for the result as harvested in the
| latter part of September. The number
; of heads per stool was from sixty to 118 i
j well developed heads. I send yeu a j
sample stool, one of many from the plat, i
which contained 135 heads, 118 of which i
[ were fully developed. The number of i
[ grains per head in this stool was eighty, i
; Over one-half yielded 100 grains each.
Owing to an accident Mr. Bissell failed I
; to get the accurate weight or measure- j
i ment, but making all due allowance for j
i that wasted the yield was ten bushels, or !
at the rate of eighty bushels per acre, J
forty more than the proposition called j
for.
Now compare the above result with an
' average crop sown broadcast. I am as- i
sured that the average number of heads I
i per stool in an average field of wheat, J
1 sown broadcast, is not over five of forty :
1 gniin8 each, which would be less than
! tliirty-three bushels per acre, if all the
seed grew. What becomes of the seed ?
Tn the field where this plant grew, there
was sown broadcast at alx>nt the same
time 100 acres. It was irrigated, as was ;
the other, and harvested at the. same
time. It was put in good shape, had
| the best of care, and at an expense of !
$300 for seed al^ne. The yield was not i
over twenty bushels per acre, or 2,000
bushels for the crop. Mr.- Bissell in- !
forms me that he will plant thirty-five or
1 forty acres next spring, usiug the seed
planter and cultivator instead of the
broadcast sower. The facts I have given
can be well attested, if desired. Should ;
I any further information be wished it will
be furnished by addressing I). O. Bissell,
Willow Ranch, Modoc county,
California.
I I have written the above facts in the
interest of the agriculturists of the country;
have been thus particular in details
hoping others may be stimulated thereby 1
to profit by the information given. To 1
the Grangers I would say, make this
method of. grain raising the subject of
discussion in your lodges and trial on
your farms. A few successful trials,
such as wituesscnl by the writer, would
revolutionize the mode of grain growing
in this couutry and remove from the
farmer the heavy burden of annually j
providing 100 to 150 pounds of seed per
acre for his crop when one and one-half
to two pounds, allowing for wastage in
planting, would be all that need be re- J
V Wil 1 L 1 !
quireu. ?irn pncii a system now s?ou ,
the mortgages would be lifted from the
farms?the incubus of debt crushing the ;
fjirmer into the soil he cultivates; how
soon it would be abolished !
$2,000,000 Worth of Eggs.
i
The steamer City of Peking, which ar
rived at San Francisco, brought an invoice
of Japanese silkworm eggs, con- j
sisting of 1,872 cases, the value of which
approximated $2,000,000. These eggs,
iu which a large trade has been carried
on between China and Japan and Europe,
have heretofore passed through in very
meager quantities, and then only as experiments.
Dampness is destructive to
the eggs, and for that reason their storage
in the vesssel was made a special care-.
The cargo in question was packed on the
steerage deck aft amidships, the warmest
and direst place on the ship. A bamboo .
fence surrounded the cases to keep them j
in position, and superfluous heat was prevented
by a current passed through a
passage two feet wide among the eases. !
The precious cargo was shipped on the
Central Pacific cars for New York, and
will be shipped from that port to Europe
by steamer for England, France and,
Italy. | '
A Mythical Cm.?The county clerk
of Grayson county, Texas, publishes a
statement relative to the Ohio, Kentucky
and Texas Land Company, which lias
been flooding the country with circulars
and advertisements of their scheme.
The company offer lots in Miueral City
at 81 each. The clerk says they own no :
land in fhe eouutv, and that Mineral
City is a myth?that there is not a house |
in it or a man living in it. It is believed
that the company has disposed orer
100,000 lots in .this paper town,
....
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The Paris Communists.
Writing from Riria of the Communists!
in Paris, Lucy Hopper says that it is to4 ^
l>e hoi>e(l that the present crisis will
bring About some cessation of the perse- .
cution of the poor wretches who took
part in the Commune. Even allowing
that the Communists were wholly in the J
wrong, surely they have been punished .
effougli. The number that were killed
by the Yersaillist troops after their entry j
into Paris is variously estimated at from
thirty to fifty thousand, including many
women and little children. The executions
that have since taken place amount^
ed to from fifteen to eighteen thousand. .
When I first arrived here three years ,
ago?that is to say, two years after tho '
suppression of the Commune?I was told
that they were still shooting prisoners by 1
squads on the plains of Satory. Recently
a fresh victim waa condemned to
death, not one of the leaders of the rebellion,
be it understood, but onto of the
rank and file. And it must be remembered
that many, nay the greater part,
of these poor creatures entered the ranks
of the Communist forces not to rob or
murder, but in good faith, and to earn
bread for tneir wives and little children.
It is easy to see how a workingman, a republican
by principle, who had starved
and suffered all through the siege, and
who was offered thirty cents a day to
serve in the republican forces, could
easily be induced to accept such an offer.
And the heroism of some of these unhappy
beings was beyond all praise.
Not long ago I was told the story of a
young Swiss doctor who had charge of
one of the Communist hospitals, and who
was greatly aided in his labors by a
woman of the people, who, young, strong
armed and vigorous, assisted him to the
best of her ability, and who was at once
the most untiring And faithful of nurses
to the sick and wounded. After the entry
of the Yersaillists the physician was arrested.
As lie was being conducted before
the tribunal be met his former aid j
and companion coming forth, escorted I
by a detachment of soldiers. " Ah, my
poor Adele," he said to her, " are you '
here? We have both fallen on evil days,
it seems." She looked him full in the
face. " Moifsieur, je ne vous connais i
pas," she said ("I do not know you,
sir "), and was hurried away. The doctor
shrugged his shoulders. "Evidently I
am a doomed man," he said to himself,
"-siure that woman will not recognize *ne !
for fear of compromising herself." He
was brought before the tribunal, but by
the intervention of ^ wounded Versaillist
whom he had attended he was released, j
He learned later the true story of Adele's
failure to recognize him. She was being
led forth to instant execution when they
had met. Even in that terrible hour the
brave girl had turned away from the last <
visage that would ever be bent upon her
in sympathy or kindness, the last hand '
that would ever l>e proffered to her in ,
friendly greeting, lest such recognition
might involve her former comrade in her h
own doom! i
?-?-? !:
Analyzing Life.
Dr. Beard states that from an analysis j
of the lives of a thousand representative
men in all the -great branches of the
human family, he made the discovery 1
that the golden decade was between I
forty and fifty; the brazen between twen- i
ty and thirty; the iron between fifty and <
sixty. The superiority of youth and 1
middle Hf#> over old acre in original work '
appears all the greater when we consider j;
the fact that all the positions of honor i
and prestige?professorships and public !'
stations?are in the hands of tlie old. i
Reputation, like money and position, is
mainly confined to the old. Men are not ,
widely known until long after they have i
done the work that gives them their ;
fame. Portraits of great men are delu- i
sions; statues are lies! They are taken i (
when men have become famous, which, i
?>n die average, is at least twenty-five,, ,
years after they did the work which gave
them their fame. Original work requires (
enthusiasm. If all the original work i
done by men under forty-five were anni- 1
hilated, tliey would be reduced to bar- ,
barism. Men are at their best at that <
time when enthusiasm and experience i
are almost evenly balanced. Tins pe- ]
riod, on the average, is from thirty-eight
t? forty. After this the law is that ex- :
perience increases; but enthusiasm de- j,
creases. !,
* \
A Bravo Footman.
An English clergyman at St. Leonards- j
on-Sea has a brave footman. Early in
December burglars tore out a bar from
the boot-room window and entered the
parsonage. The footman slept near the I
pantry, and was disturbed by hearing
something fall. He opened his door, and, | ]
seeing a light in the pantry, went out, |'
taking a sword stick. He shouted ont: j i
44 Who is there ?" and immediately a ; 1
man with a blackened face put his head j i
out of the pantry door and whistled, i ]
The footman sprung forward and struck i
the man twice on the head. The burgl^ ]
ran toward the outer doors, carrying 11
part of the plate in an apron, but, Seing i
struck by the footman, he fell between :
" ^ 1 i 1 t.;,. TV.o t
Tile ?OOr? ttJid nruppcu no |niiuuci.
next moment the footman himself waa ]
struck violently on the head and arm by i
anotliar man from behind. XJ,e men j i
then ran ont of the back door, which j
the footman bolted* and went for his. ]
jj^pater.* In the pantry was found the ; <
rest of the plate collected and ready to 1
be carried o^^Tht only thing taken 4
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Dim Single Copy 5 Cents.
A Child's Letter to Santa (%& J
Jimt before Christmjw one of'the mail
sorters in the Cbiea^o4>oet-offio ^foimd a tf "
lettefr addressed tor" Hantl ClauA" J Ao
that mythical personage Has ]ooal a
habitation witliin reach of the easier,,
the officials opened thejanvelope ami '
read the Contents. The leuet wae hrrit*
ten by a little girl, name! L Uoy Me?
Keiizie, living with her parent*, end in
it she made a touching appeal to Hanta
Clans not to forget her or her folks, x
Her little brother wants a new pair of
shoes; father would like a new hat;
mother would be pleased with a new
Jress, and the little writer adds: "Now,
dear Santa Clans, if you have just pne j
little doll left please bring it aratoqd to J
me, and I'll promise to be a?good Kttto y
girl all next year.''
Tlie touching pathos of ti?8fmf6siie 1
Anil the simple faith of the little gin^K
says a Chicago paper, made a deep im- V
pression upon the officials, and after a
brief consultation it was decided that
the little one should have a satisfactory
Cliristmas. Postmaster McArthur and
one of his clerks drove to the residence '
and found that the statements of the lit* I
tie girl were correct On their return l
they. drove around to several business
acquaintances, and it is needless to say
that they in a very short time collected
enough to more than satisfy the longings
of the little petitioner. A pair of shoes j
was got for the little brother, and two or
three pairs more far other members of
the family; the father's and mother's J
wants were supplied and a handsome doll
was secipred tor Amy. A purse of $25
was made up and sent along with* the *
other gifts; and in no howebpld in Cftieugd
was there a happier Christinas tlian
that in the little cottage on the obscure
street, whose guardian angel is Argy MeKeuzie.
? ; ' -4
Dm>ahS?0 Panli* \ n
? ^ J
The Chicago Times recalls a successful
effort of General Caster to prevent a die- |
astrous panic. The oecasiou was a reunion
in the Springfield (IlL) opera &
house in 1874, after the dedication ol the*
Lincoln monument. The Times says: r
The programme was about half exhausted,
General McDowell was in the act <i
talking, when a loud snap echoed through
the suditorium?the balcony appeared to
be sinking, and several persons c^pd ou :: *
u The gallery is coming down 1" Grant
n ever moved from his chair, apd appear* d ^ ..
not fca notice the exciterneat which ibvmediately
spread xmougthfepeople. Mto
yelled and women screamed?-eve*ybo<^
or nearlyjeveiybody, rushing toward-tie *
main entrance, or exit Hherman
to Lis feet, waved his hand, and implurftT A
the audience to resume their seats, but I
nil in vain. Tlie confusion grew J
confounded, and men's faces paled as fits '
imminence of a terrible tragedy dawned ^
upon their understandings. Anoth er
moment and tlie panic would have betf i
uncontrollable. The band in the balcon y,
obedient to the band master, kept thor
seats in tlie midst of the-turmoil. The.a,
till at once, a blaze of inspiration seemed *
to rise in Caster's face. He rushed to
the very edge of the footlights, swung
his hat around his head, and, in a voice
which seemed to conquer the stampeding
uproar, shouted to the musiqanaj
teution there! strike up that music ! ' In
half a second /'Yankee Doodle," tfie
nearest and choicest melody tliat suggest
- ? n
ed itself, echoed through the liau, aau
the frightened people, reassured by those
familiar notes and by the coolness of the
performers, checked their headlong flight.
The Russian Army.
The active military forces of But si*
are divided between the European army
and the afcgjv of the Caucasus. The for*
inerhas forty-one divisions of infantry,
supplemented \v an equal number of
artillery brigiiderfV and six brigades of
sharpshooters. Eah^ division contains .
about twelve battalionV These figures^
represent a total for theh^ropean aimy^
of 544,000 soldiers, with cannon,
and 328 mitrailleuses. The troopHM^^M
tioned in the Caucasus comprise
divisions of infantry, as many
of artilleiy, and one brigade of ri?emi;^|H
aggregating 92,000 men, about the^^H
liundfed cannon, and some fifty mifr1|l-^H
leuses. The available strength ofRu ak IB
in tlie impending conflict may be sk ^
down at more than seven hundred thjusand
combatants, abont twenty-four h ail- r
tired cannon, and some four hundred '
trailleuses. The entire war footing: c#
Turkey does not exceed three hundreds-Jj
thousand men. !
" Done."
A man who looked like a countrymauf 4
was lately walking in the "tree^ with a
packet in his hand, sealed and addressed. Mt
with a memorandum that it coutaintBg 1
tliousand dollars in bank notes. As fas ,
bearer appeared to? be at a loss, he was .
accosted by a man, who asked him vlg^?fcr
he was looking for. The simple.
h&addrens, *h lie v,hh f
of the