Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r wr m m ~^w?v?m?" THE VOL. Y. NO. 14. Her Answer. a 1 All day long slieheld my question , j. inner n*an; Shunned my eyes that craved an answer, G Moved apart; v Touched my hand in good-night greeting, I Rosier grew? c " Should I leave to-morrow ??early ? f lhen adieu !" j t Bent her head in farewell courteous, Onward passed, ! ^ While a oold hand gripped my heart strings, J ^ Held them fast. ' Still I waited, still I listened ; All my soul Trembled in the eyes that watched her t As she stole ; ] t p the stairs with measured footsteps. ^ But she turned < Where a lamp in brazen bracket \ Brightly burned. j Showed me all the glinting ripples ? Of her hair, i Veiled her eyes in violet shadows, ( Glimmered where Curved her mouth in soft compliance * As she bent t Toward me from the dusky railing t Where she leant. 6 \h, my love .'?One white hand wanders ; XV) her hair, Slowly lifts the rose that nestles Softly there; j Breathes she in its heart my answer ^ Shyly sweet, ^ And love's message mutely flutters y To my feet. \ - t FLOTSAM. i t It was a.fearful storm. All nigl#they 1 had heard, above the wliistle of the gale 1 as it rushed through the heavens, above 1 the toasiug of the trees and the pelting : of the rain, the great bellow of the 1 waves upon the beach?a long unbroken P roar that it made some hearts stand still ? to hear. It made the hearts of Mrs. Brenton * and her husband stand very still; for, c. years i>efore, Mrs. Brenton was bringing * her children from Europe, and it was in * such a storm as this, while the steam- j ship lay broadside to the assaulting surge * among the breakers, and the lifeline was ? being sent ashore, that one great billow J chasing after another rose in a gigantic * shadow and fell like a cataract, rushing across the whole breadth of the deck, ( and sweeping from it every living apul 1 that was not lashed fast; tmd though ? Mrs. Brentoir herself was thrown high * and dr^upon the shore, with the life so J nearly beaten out of her that it took hours to restore it, the children never * came to shore at all. Now every storm * had for these parents a horrible fascina- ! tion. They had fitted out a life saving J statiou from their own means; they sel- . dom slept when the wind blew bitterly; they usually sought the shore as soon us * the storm grew so dreadful that every- : body else sought shelter. It seemed as 1 if they were drawn to sceues of wreck ; 1 and disaster by some fatality, not pre- | cisely hoping that after this lapse of time ; * the sea tvould give up its dead, but with 1 an obscure prescience of the necessity of < their going, or of some blessing to come 1 oy means 01 h. What blessing they knew not. They j 1 were in need of no blessings, as the work! i i goes, for they were beloved by each 1 other and by troops of friends, were in j * perfect health, were overflowing with J < wealth; they lacked nothing but the buiss i of children in the house, yet, lacking , ' that, it seemed to them they lacked < everything. It was hard hi content ' ^ themselves with children in heaven. * ^ They would have given all their wealth j for one little laughing body toddling J 1 about the halls and walking into every < one's favor, for the pure love of one Jittle 1 heart?while it lasts, the only utterly J ] . disinterested and perfect affection in the f world. 4'It is my punishment for the < insane folly of that European trip," Mrs. < Brenton used to sigh to herself, when 1 dreary weather or hapless memories 1 made her arms feel emptier than ever. ( *4 It is my punishment f?r remaining at j < . home and letting her go abroad without ] me," Mr. Brenton used to sigh. 44 Had ' I gone, they would have been lashed to ' me that night, and the wave never ran that could tear them away." ( It was early afternoon wheu the storm ! began to blow about the house, and it 1 had not become extraordinarily fierce 1 till toward midnight, though an easterly 1 wind had been piling up the water along ( the coast for many days. But before midnight Mrs. Brenton was pacing her room and peering from the window; and ] though sleeping an hour or two at a 1 time, they were both awake the greater part of the night, and by the dim dawn- I ing were eager to make" their way down 1 to the beach, some three miles distant, J Mrs. Brenton casting a long glance at the little empty bed beside her own as she ; "" k 1 1 1 "went uown; ior sue always ieu go- ; ing to" the bench in n storm as though 1 she were doing some expiatory duty to : the little ones whose grave had been 1 made in the great cradle of the deep. The rain had ceased, but the wind still blew a hurricane; and Mr. Brenton, bidding his wife put on her other wrap, threw back the top of the phaeton to J prevent its being blown over. And 1 when they reached the waterside it was 1 all they could do to make their way along at a walk, for the sea had overflowed the ' highway, and was over the hubs of the j wheels a large portion of the way, suck- . ing back, with even' impulse of the tide, so str< ngly that it seemed as if they must go with it. As they rounded the bend ] and came out upon the beach road, the 1 whole force of the gale threw itself upon j them. " VV? cVioll liaro tn nrn ha/>lf AfflV/' ' ., ?e>~ ??? ? > ( said Mr. Brenton; " you can never stand this." ' } "Ob, I have stood -worse ones," she answered. " Do let me go on." 5 " I don't know. It isn't a question i of letting you. I doubt if it is pos- i sible." i " Oh, I must try?indeed I must! I ' couldn't go back." she cried. " It seems i all the time as though I heard some one 11 calling me." And on they went. It was a tremendous scene. Far as i the eye reaclie<l, the gray expanse i churned an angry yeast. Rank after rank, the great black bodies of water, rearing above the grayness, came rolling p, breaking in a long cloud of foam, ; : be ? .ml crashing down on the retreating ine of breakers before. They could not lave told, as they gazed, where sky endd and water began; and only dimly, far 1 iut in the bank of opening and closing /Iio/inm f]?o nlmntnm AfJWJL, t'WlUl. U1CJ VllOVVAU MAV I'?? ike outline of a bark with broken masts (rifting helplessly in?a shapeless hulk, rom which every now and then came he awful thud of a minute gun. "She will drift into the cove, and go ! o pieces on the inner breaker," said Mr. j Jrenton. " Soon, at this rate of tide. 1 Chere go the hook-and-ladder boys," as ' he gallant firemen, who usually took ipon themselves the part of salvation at i k wreck, raced by. " Rookete and lines snougli in the life Station !" shouted Mr. Brenton, though the wind blew the ?ords down his throat. " I shall leave rou in the tavern with Mr. Charles," mid he to his wife, "while I go down aid have a look at things."' And pres- | mtly the little inn came in eight behind ts bulwark of sandhills, and they were Iriving into the yard. But what a desolation was the inn tnd its s'.irroundings ! The sign and 1 he flagstaff had been prostrated by the jale, and. the yard was a sheet of mlt water, in which all the debris of he place, the pigs, the aogs and lie buckets, were promiscuously swimning. The piazza was under water, the , ower floor of the house was all afloat, he underpinning of the sheds and tieips had given way, and the buildings vere leaning to their fall, while the old vind whitened willows looked like vitches with their gowns tucked up as ; hey stood in the overflow. Mr. Brenon drove close to the bulwark of the ! mndhills, left his wife in the phaeton, ind leaped out upon the sand, climbed j he low mound, and ran down where the nen had clustered and were at work ipon the best they knew to save the i nrreck. Standing up in the carriaga, Mrs. j Brenton could see all that went forward lelow, could see the broad chest of the j tea feathered in a thousand plumes of mow, while she felt the shock of every j (urge of the boiling surf, and trembled j ;very time the great spouts of foam went lying high as clouds where the ledge ! an out to meet the open fury of the j ashings billows. She could see, too, , he dead pall of the sky lift, shade by j ihade, as the wind went hauling round o the south ; could see the parting of I hat vapor bank with the first full puff ! rom the south, and the wreck starting ! nit like a sudden creation, black with its 1 uin on all that tumultuous gray and kilver, still slowly rising and falling and Irlfting in with the tide. When she j iurned her head she could see, also, the ife in the inn yard, in curious prosaic contrast in the tragic terror just beyond. STot that you could call it everyday life, jecause it was not every day that the ittle pigs were swimming ronnd iu the mrnvar 1. squealing as the Newfound and swam after them and grappled an I ?ar ; it was not every day that the good j averner, Mr. Charles, was wading about i n his top boots, inspecting the general ; out, of only a fraction of which lie was j ret aware, rubbing his hands, and con- 1 lucking himself as if to have one's house md goods afloat was a little occasional eccentricity on the part of Providence : vith which one must put up. Then she turned her head and raw the ' vreck again, still drawing near and 1 nearer her dreadful doom with every j ;hrob of the surf, while the men ran to md fro upon the shore, and the red stars >f the rockets one after one went shootng out and falling short of their mark. : [t seemed to Mis. Brenton that she could wen see the people crowded on the deck; ; she fancied one figure was a woman with i child in her arms, a woman standing J ust as she had stood on that black, that lorrid night, when the sea snatched her larlings from her clasp. An agony of pity overcame her as she thought these j people could probably see her there in ! safety while. death was bellowing for :hem. She sat down a moment and j covered her eyes ; the sight aixl the i nemory were too much for her; instinctive pi ayers rose to her lips for the safety j >f the wretches driving on so surely to lestmction ; before she knew it she was praying for that mother with the little ' ?hild in her arms, was praying with all lier heart for the little child. Of a sudden, as she sat there with her ?yes closed, there was a shock as if the sky had fallen and the earth had risen to meet it; she sprang to her feet, and saw that the wreck had struck, had struck and parted, and a wild, wild wail, a shores of despair, rose above the beating of the waves. Mr, Charles waded out to where the phaeton stood up to its floor in water, on one side of the yard, and handed her his long spyglass. As she steadied it and crazed with aching eyes at the horror, there came one of those mighty throes of the tide when the whole sea seems to be heaved from its bed; the parted wreck heaved with it, far, far up ; a cry like the ghost of the first cry was heard sweeping out and away, and in another moment there was nothing to be seen, neither wreck nor people ; they were as att erly gone as if they had never been. .4 long swift searching of the sea, and then Mrs. Brenton leaped from the carriage to the saud, climbed the mound, and ran down the beach as fast as the furious wind that swirled her clothes aboat her would allow. "'Don't you see it "she cried to her husband, breaking in among the knot of men who had been vainly trvii!& to launch the lifeboat. "I have hardly lost sight of it. There it is, to the left: it is coming in fast, as if some great sea monster were running under it. Here, bike the erlass. and vou will see. It is V. ' V a. little child, dear, and its mother has b< unci it in a cradle, and it is tossing on the waves like those tubs in the yard. Oh, the sea is giving us back something for what it stole away !" Mr. Brenton returned the glass in a few seconds, while she stood trembling, ai.d then, without a word, sprung iuto d e lifeboat, as, at last, it rode triumphant over the rollers. It seemed to Mrs. Brenton as if she had endured scarcely more when her own children were born, as she waited there in that awful interval, shaking with excitement, breathless, uncertain what the moment would bring forth. And when the boat's head came round, she dared not look, till she heard her husband's cheery halloa, and presently a little slender wail that wenr. to her heart. She ran down the beach in :au] AND PORT BEAUFOKT, S. ' 7 r the track of the receding wave; regardless of her drenching, stretched out her | arms, and her husband, springing ashore as the boat pushed up the sand, put into them a gTeat ten-months-old baby, wet to the skin, crying faintly with fright and cold, and ready to die from the exposure had it continued longer. She > did not stay to look at it twice, but ran back to the shelter of the sandhills, snatched off its saturated clothes, and wrawAil it in her own*thick shawl rolled over and over till it was swathed like an Indian baby. Then she pnt its face under her chin to warm it in her neck, rocked it to and fro, lifted it up to gaze at it again and to kiss it, and the child opened a pair of great wide dark eyes ! and looked in her face and laughed. Had heaven come down bodily, Mrs. Brenton could have been no happier j than she was that moment. 8he ran j back to the phaeton and established her- j self, and waited for her husband, while < the child fell asleep in her arms; and J she built castles for the little being's fa- j ture, if no one should turn up to claim him, and watched the doings in the inn yard, where Mr. Charles was still inspecting his losses and cracking jokes with his subordinates. " The barn floors have fallen out, sir," cried one of the hostlers; "the horses are tied up still, and are holding on by j their forelegs"? "Would you have them hold on by their two legs ?" asked Mr. Charles. "That's what they're doing, sir. And we must have help to pry them up." " Get it! get it!" cried Mr. Chavles, cheerfully. " The fires in the kitchen are all burned out, sir," called a maid. " The water's over the stoves. * " Where a good cook keeps it. But build your fires up stairs ; victuals must be cooked," said Mr. Charles, shuffling on through the water. As he went, he stopped and picked up something. " The little white chicken !" said Mr. Charles, in a tone Salvini could have envied, hold- j ing it out on his broad hand. " My God! the little white chicken is drowned !" and | he burst into tears. He was sobbing like a baby when Mr. Brenton came running up the sand and got into the phseton. The good gentleman took in the situation at once, and the horse splashed round by Mr. Charles. "Here! here!" said Mr. Brenton, leaning out and slapping the weeping ! man'8 shoulder; "take this and repair ( losses," and he pushed his wallet into the man's hand. " More than this has been given me to-day, Charles, and out of our abundance we must help one another." A nd lie drove on. leaving the man ready to sit down in the water with bewilder- j ment and joy. 44 My dear," said Mr. Brenton to his wife, as they went their homeward way, ; 44 it seems a dreadful thing that such loss and tragedy can bring joy with it too. I And yet, since not a soul of all that ship- ; load has come to shore alive, that little ; white bed beside our own will never be . empty again, please God." Tasting of the Rector'8 Legs. The rector of a rural parish in England visited a lady parishioner who kept a Pyreneean wolf-dog, and the good lady took the young rector into the garden to see the dog. He entered the garden a placid, clean, and contented clergyman, but he was destined to emerge from it a demoralized, denuded, and partialiv , disintegrated man. The dog was young, but had already j learned the difference in flavor between j the legs of the footman, the 44 buttons," and the housemaid. It certainly was not i his fault that when he saw his first clergy man, in the person of Rev. Dr. Owen, ; he mentally remarked : 44 Here's something new* in legs," and promptly proceeded to collect data with a view to ! their classification as a species distinct from the household legs with which he i was already familiar. No sooner had this enterprising animal I made a few preliminary sniffs at Dr. Owen's legs, and tasted a trifle of coattail, than he retired a few paces, in j order to get a fair start, and then sprang upon his victim with violent and deterI mined yells. For the next five minutes the air was filled with fragments of cloth and clergy-man, and a welkin, which happened to be conveniently near, rang like a patent railway switch bell. Mrs. i Honey wood, with great presence of ; mind, went into the house for a broom and dust pan, being unwilling mat a | dissenting housemaid should have the ! privilege of sweeping up the rector. By j | the time she hail returned to the scene ! i with her household implements the j greater part of the rector had escaped | over the paliDgs, and the infuriated dog j ! was worrying the lighter pieces that 1 liad been left behind. . , f Fearful that (he accident might create a coolness between herself and her j i spiritual guide, Mrs. Honeywood wrote I him a note> apologizing for the playful- ! ness of her pet, and hoping that it had j not caused him "any inconvenience." j She also sent him a partially chewed i rag, remarking : "I found the inclosed piece of cloth on the gravel walk, anil send it to you, as I think it belongs to j your great coat, and yon may be able to put it in." Strange as it may seem, this cheerful note did not produce the i desired effect. The rector answered it, lllll lit" IUDU I/1UVU1CU 41 uuiuuii/un mjuiiing Mrs. Honeywood to answer the charge of keeping a daugerous wild beast, and she was lined $2.10 for inI dulging in the luxury. Life in a London Workhouse. 441 works in the laundry at the workhouse from nine o'clock until five every day, and sometimes I feels the want of something," was the defense of a poor old woman to the charge of having been found 44drunk and incapable" in the public streets. She was an inmate of St. Giles' workhouse, and is over eighty-two years of age. If in that workhouse, which is filled with plenty of younger and able bodied persons, this poor old creature, who has exceeded by thirteen long years the allotted span, is made to work*in the foundry for eight hours a day, all we oan say is that it is simply monstrous. Our workhouses were not intended to be slave yards. The test of labor was never ir- , tended to be applied to octogenari: u>. We trust that the guardians of St. Giles will afford some explanation of this. It l isdue to the public,~=JLoiidon Exainhier, j FOR1 ROYAL C< 0.. THURSDAY, SI ENGLAND'S EASTERN POLICY. ! The Tenor of the Speeches* of Earl Granville ' and the Martinis* of llartinifton. Detailed reports of the speeches de livered by Earl Granville in the House of Lords, aud the Marquis of Hartington | in the House of Commons, show that the Liberal party intended to uphold the j view that England should co-operate with the other powers for the coercion of Turkey, and even co-operate with j Russia alone if the other powers declined to act. Earl Granville said: If the government influence were used 1 in persuading Europe in one body to come forward and insist, as they have a moral and just right to do, that Turkey shall perform the promises she has so long delayed, the result could not be : doubtful. * It may be said you are not | able to persuade the European powers, but I am not sure that the impression does not prevail that England is the only j obstacle. At all events, you would not | be much worse off after making the at- I tempt. Will anybody tell me that if i once the Turks got it into their heads?if ( they really believed that not only Eng- | land but the whole of Europe is absolutely and seriously in earnest in the matter?that Turkey, which up to this moment has been influenced by one power, could resist the united powers of Europe? I believe it would be utterly unnecessary to resort to coercion; I believe, if the government will follow that course, they will meet with great success, and they will receive the congratulations and approval of all parties and all classes of this country. The Marquis of Hartington said: There are some among us?I trust that the government do not belong to the number?who look with calmness, if not satisfaction, at the prospect of leaving Turkey and Russia fuce to face, and the prospect of war between them. I ask whether the danger of that position as regards English interests has diminished ? Whether it has not rather increased since the time when Canning, rather than encounter the perils of such a situation, rather than allow Russia to take upon herself singly the task of enforcing IPIU'AU V* o/l luon Atrrpofl tilC piuywooio n luvu iiiva wvm upon between England and Russia as to the affairs of Greece, was willing even to go the length of proposing to co-operate with Russia for the purpose of attaining the end in view. T am unwilling to believe that the resources of diplomacy are exhausted by the failure of the conference. Of this at all events I am sure, that the government will take a heavy responsibility upon themselves if thev do not strive to do everything in their power to preserve concerted action among the powers for the accomplishment of those benificent ends for which the conference lalwred, but unfortunately labored vainly to attain. ' The Pyll Mall Gazelle, in a leading article, says: ' Sir Stafford Northcote's speech in the House of Commons can signify nothing but this, that he cannot admit the great powers have done with the proposals of the conference because they have beeu rejected by the Porte, nor allow that the new Turkish constitution is to be taken ; as an anSwcr to the wish and appeal of the powers. The Pall Mall Gazette thinks that the government in the Lords and Commons have spoken with different voices. It adds: Perhaps Midbat Pasha's fall and Edliem Pasha's accession may have sug- j gested to certain members of the administration that Lord Salisbury's threatening language at the close of the conference may be repeated with advantage now. The Blue <?lass Cure. Gen. A. J. Pleasonton has written ? long letter to the Chicago Tribune on the wonders of blue glass. The glass which he uses is of a dark blue, the color being derived from a preparation of cobalt which is fused in the pot with ! the other ingredients. It is imported I from France, and costs four times as much as the Amprican window glass. He gives in this letter his personal experience as to the curative powers of blue and sun light baths. In October last he met with a very serious nocident in alighting from a wagon in Philadelphia. His physician said that there had been no fracture of the ribs or bones, but that he would suffer a long time from the ( effects of the shock and fall. Liniments and plasters afforded no relief. He resolved to try blue glass. " In my bathroom," he says, "I have a window with a southerr exposure, arranged with alternate panes of blue aud plain transparent glass. Uncovering my back, I sat with my back to the blue find sun lights which were streaming through the window into the bath-room. As sooife as these lights began to fall upon my back the pains began to-diminish, and at the end of half an hour they had ceased altogether. Toward evemng the pains returned, but they were much less than they had been before I had taken the blue light bath, and during the night I was easier than I hail been previously. The next day I took another bath of blue and sun lights, which effectually relieved ule of every pain, and since then, now about three months, I have not had the slightest pain or sensitiveness in the parts affected?three consecutive sun and blue light baths having completely removed every ill effect of my most serious accident." Turkey's Cirenlar Xote. The circular of the Porte on the failure of the conference, dated January 25, after recapitulating the arguments justifying the rejection of the proposals of the powers, comments in a very contemptuous tone on the assertion made by Gen. Iguatieff at the final sitting of the conference, thRt the Porte by its action had virtually abrogated the treaty of Paris. The Porte declares that nothing would have been easier for the Turkish delegates, if they had considered such a course expedient, than to show that Gen. IgnatiefTs assertion was defective both in form and substance. The delegates, however, remained silent, p Gen. Ignat.'efTs remarks were irrele1 a - 11? a# van I I/O lilt UUJCUl ui mc wiiAUAcuwi The European delegates by their silence gave an unequivocal sign of astonishment at the language in which Gen. Ignatietf pretended to express the views of the whole conference. T T JMMEROIAIi. ARCH 8, 1877. IN THE EVERttLADES. A Slnry of the Semlnolr War la Florida? i The Deadly .Swauip. The exoloration of the everelades of Florida bring to light many incidents of the long and terrible Seminole war. Beyond the " Mules'Wallow " there is a marsh about which the most remarkable stories are narrated. It is called "Feather Bed Bay." No wild animal when chased by the hunter was ever known to cross it; the baying of the hounds might force the deer a little way from the firmer earth, but it would then become alarmed with its rapid sinking and struggle out even " into the jaws of death." Under the tread of any living thing upon the treacherous tussocks the whole surface of the marsh will tremble as if it were merely a floating scum on a hidden depth of water. As one surveys its tall furze and tufted grass, traversed by the quivering undulations produced by the breeze, and ponders on the frightful stories of the lives which have been smothered in the unfathomable slime, his wonderment at the application of the name of "Feather Bed Bay " ceases. It was comparatively unknown to the whites until one battle took place. The Indians, in retreating, hoped by their superior lightness of foot to cross the "Feather Bed Bay " before thev were overtaken. They would have avoided it had they not been pressed very hotly, and by boldly attaining the other shore they thought that the whites would be induced to attempt to follow them. But the trepidation of the moment prevented the safe passage upon which they had reckoned. The surface of the bay shook under so many moocasined feet, and warrior after warrior sunk in the slime, his last breath gurgling up like the croak of the frog at twilight. To add to the horror of the scene, which even to the heated whites was repulsive, Indian women, whom runners had warned of the nearing struggle as they sat flaking on the margin of "Sink o' Pinhooks," appeared on the further side of " Feather Bed Bay," wringing their hands and tearing their hair with terror as their husbands, brothers, lovers and fathers struggled with the strange cyclops. Some of them even flung themselves with long resounding and long remembered shrieks into the fatal pool of mire and disappeared with their defenders. Stalwart wnm'crs -whosp oormerv flesh seemed to " i ?r x ?n ? hflve assumed a redder hne from having been painted with the blood of the whites, painfully struggled back to the shore, with eyes glaring, tongues protruding and faces streaked with sweat and gore. There the whites, with the pasaicn of revenge grimly burning in their eyes, stood firing at the figures which were attempting to reach the other side; and those who struggled back, affrighted with death in so sickening a form, were given their quietus by blows inflicted with the butts of their muskets, r Their bodies were thrust back into the mire and never seen more. Fifty of the savages passed " Feather Bed Bay" either by treading the tussocks with superior quickness and agility or by running aro >nd it with their utmost speed. The latter example was followed by many of the whites, who resumed the pursuit, after preventing the escape from the mire of two braves w jo toiled nearly shoulder deep to the edge. Some of the whites here turned hack, but others, forgetting discipline and not hearing the voice of command, pressed on in hot pursuit The night had fallen and the sound of breaking vines and shrubs and the splashing of the water in the morasses as the fugitives swept through was all that guided the soldiers. On, on, they went; the faint light o? the moon only served to confuse all nether objects, and the vistas of pine and cypress assumed strange aspects as they sped along. There was a sort of intoxication in the wildness, weirdness and uncertainty of the hunt. There was danger of ambush by wild beasts as well as ! by savages. They heard the snarl of the I panther over their heads frequently as 1 they passed into the dense tangle of the palmetto hammocks or " tight eye" jungles. But they were men who had cause to thirst for the blood of the Seminoles, and they kuew during these hours of night only of the now near, now distant, sound of their footsteps | nd hated voices; sometimes the sobs of the querulous squaws, sometimes the defying yells of the liend like warriors. Judging by the position of the moon, they went eastward from the " Sink o' Pinhooks," where there stood a few deserted wigwams, crossed several streams and " thicks," and finally approached a large island in the midst of a great expanse of water and forest. The island was densely and closely shaded with magnolias, bays and live oaks, and a great camp fire in the center cast about a wonderful glow, which disclosed to them a circle of many wigwams. The Indians stood at bay and renewed the fight. But they were surprised by the sudden apparition of their pursuers, who, they supposed, had been baflled by the tortuous and tangled way which they had led them. The Soldiers dashed in upon them and killed a squaw, but they were quickly surrounded by more Indians than they had expected to encounter, and could only cut their, way back into the morass, from which they main tained an occasional fire at the figures which ventured out of the wigwam#. They related that some of these were negroes. They then plunged backward the way that they had come, and about sunrise found themselves at the Lower Pinhook Sink. I" Two Odd Dreams, An exchange tells a story of a gentleman who, on going to bed, lost a collar button, which on coming detached rolled to a distant corner of the room. He ; searched for it about ten minutes, and then gave it np for lost. In the night he dreamed that he found it under the washstand, and on waking up found it in that spot. This isn't half so odd as the ca^e of a man who lost a valuable horse, and before going to bed ate a Welsh rareI bit. He dreamed his horse was in a village church fifteen miles away, and was quietly consuming the hair in the pew cushions, having left the buggy on the pulpit steps. When he awoke next morning he found rlmf in rpftlifvn. neighbor's bov had found the horse and vehicle and had put it up in a livery stable until be could claim a reward. RIBI ?. ' 'i * ' * .? i $2,06 per J The Scarlet Fever. I It is as unnecessary for a child to die of scnrlet fever, says Good Health, as it . is that it should be blind with eataract. Let us see : At any time before the body has linished its effectual struggle we are able to help it, not by wonderful j medicines, but by the knowledge of , anatomy and the application of commo n sense. We consult the sympathetic nerve, and do what it commands us to f do. We must give this child salt when : j it wants it; we must give it acid when it; has fever?not vinegar, but lemon juice, , , because the first coagulates albumen J 1 and the latter does not on account of the ' i surplus of oxygen which it contains. To ; imitate the soothing mucous in the intestines, which is now wanting, and to i 1 give some respiratory food at the same ) 1 time, we add gum-arabic. To restore j i and relieve the injured nerve we applv \ j moist warmth. In practice we can ful- j till all this with the following simple ma- j ! nipulations: Undress the child and ; bring it to bed at the very first sign of I sickness. Give it, il it has already fever, ; nothing but warm, sourish lemonade, 1 ] with some gum-arabic in it Then cover its abdomen with some dry flannel. Take 1 1 a well-folded bed sheet,* and put it in j ; boiling hot water; wring it out dry by j j means of dry towels, and put this over ; (the flannel on the child's abdomen, j Then cover the whole and wait The hot ! cloths will perhaps require repeated ! j heat. According to the severity of the case and its stage of progress, perspiration will commence in the child in from ten minutes to two hours. The child then ' ) is saved; it soon falls asleep. Soon after the child awakes it shows slight : symptoms of returning inclination for food; help its bowels, if necessary, with : I injections of oil, soap, and water; and its recovery will be as steady as the growth of a green-house plant,, if well ' Af oniirae if fhp ftVlild WOK ill- 1 UCOl^Ut VI WU*W| M VMW ready dying nothing could save it, or if has effusions in the lining oi the heart or brain it is much better it should die. But if the above is applied under the j eyes and direction of a competent physi-: cian I will guarantee that not one in a hundred children will ever die of scarlet1 fever. I know this will startle some of my readers, especially those who have lost children already, but I shall go still. I further. I maintain that a child will i never get scarlet fever if properly treat ; ed. If a child has correctly mixed ; blood it will not catch the disorder if 1 put in bed with a sick child. This is i still more startling, but nothing is easier ' of proof. Croup in Children. ! This disease causes death by suffbca-' ; tion. The entrance of the windpipe is ; very small; a little cold eauses the lining of the part called the mucous mein1 brane to swell. This diminishes the I sub-mucous infiltration?that is, this j mucous membrane, being inflamed, , throws out an extra amount of fluid, like 1 the eye, when it is inflamed. This fluid j 1 hardens and forms at length a kind of a layer, which is sometimes of an almost leathery toughness, increasing in thickness until the orifice is so nearly closed that the breath is obstructed. Nauseating medicines dilute this formation and thus aid to bring it away. A favorite i prescription for a quarter of a century I with eminent physicians was.to mix a teaspoonful of powdered alum with a little sugar to make it palatable. The immediate effect is to nauseate, giving ' i great relief in a minute sometimes. Flannels dipped iff- ice cold water, i changed every two minutes, and squeezed a little so as not to dribble juid wet the clothing, is an excellent remedy* because it cools the parts and diminishes the amount of blood sent there, and as the nh lea in miule out of the blood. a less amount is made and relief is certain. 1 But flannel dipped in water as hot as can ' be borne and applied to the part, changed every two minutes, carries off the heat by evaporation, and irritating j the surface, brings the blood away from the interior and thus diminishes the phlegm. ___ A Rich Shoemaker. In the taxables of Brooklyn, says a j ! local paper, appears the name of a Gerj man whose annual payments for taxes I i exceed those of many of the so-called i princely merchants who live on the ; Heights. He pays taxes yearly upon real 'and personal property assessed at' j $250,000, but wortli probably double i that amount. Yet this man works hard 1 at the bench every day, and if he spends j a dollar in recreation for his wife and | children on Sunday he thinks it is a big : thing. He has no help, but works for a few customers, doing all their work and ; i caring nothing about any of them. If they are displeased with his way of doing things he simply says they can j take their work elsewhere, and he sorely j tries their patience by his habit of disappointing his customers as to time. This man collects his own rents, builds I two or three new houses every year, and from his frugal habits promises, if his I life is long spared, to be one of the wealthiest of all the Brooklynites. His yearly income from real estate is not less than $15,000 per annum, t>ut he regards j idleness as a sin, and works away every 1 1 okrvno no i*nnni1av1v I LlELJf UpOU OUUU5 UUU DliUCO ttO as if Jiis bread and butter were in jeopardy. " A Hawk Among: Hens. Gilbert White tells a most dramatic I story of a neighbor who hail lost most of his chickens by a sparrow hawk that came gliding down between a faggot pile and the end of his house, to the place where his coops stood. The owner, vexed to see his llrtc&s diminishing, hung a net between the pile and the house, into which the bird dashed and was entangled. The gentleman's resentment suggested a fit retaliation ; he therefore clipped the hawks wings, cut off his ' talons, and, fixing a cork on his biM, I threw him down among the brood hens, i ''Imagination," says Mr. White, "cannot paint the scene that ensued; the ex1 pression that fear, rage, and revenge in' spired were new, or at least such as had I been unnoticed before; the exasperated j matrons upbraided, they execrated, Ih ;y insulted, they triumphed. In a worii, they never desisted from buffeting their adversary till they had torn him in a i hundred pieces.?Scribr\fir. Mr. riwwr a UUUWUBIUU to V ieaof "seaserpeota," therefore, are not . unreaeonable. ? JNEr ?.-*- ?f?i. ? "'I *t t r ? > n~y r t:' t 5i t , ,.>.J';fit Inin. Single Copy 5 CeDts. ,., _____. -. A abtw. sU*j; ? ?? <?" ""J ' ? U f,' ! On board the United States stonraer , Tennessee a pleasant minstrel entertain- ?? , ment was given by the enliBted men.Among the features of the performance was a " Chinese Opera," composed by a well known sailor poet and author, Willis, a quarter-gunner on the ship, who'eomeh honestly by his knack at rbyffie, being a 1?:? ~* n Win;. TA ia onnrwiAArl lie f J Lie w ui ii. x. nuuD. ui ? ~~rr to be sung in tlie character of a Chinese tailor, who sought a contract for supplying the crew with clothing. 1ew, } Ob, the other day as Isecheein # shoo. Hi yah, cumnhaw, ' ' Heardee big ships' guns m&kee noise, pop I pop! Likee muchee cumahaw me ! I quickee catchee sampan, makee look see, * ; Hi yah, cumshaw, y , , Big 'Mellican war junk Tennessee, Likee muchee cmnshaw me. chobus. ) Hi yah for te 'Mellican ship, Makee pieatee pigeon for me, Catchee plentee dollar all day long From the war junk Tennessee. Oh, sailor man he speakee much chin-chin, Hi yah, cumahaw, Makee tailor clothes, they no fittee him, Likee muchee cumahaw me. 'Spoeee no likee, me no cue. Hi yah, enmshaw, * * Me makee for to sellee, no makee for. to wear. If Likee muchee cumahaw me. [Cbohis.] ' " ; Oh, sailor man makee oome ashore for a spree, Hi yah, cumahaw, t > Drinkee muchee samahoo, and lookee for me, Likee muchee cumshaw me, Me runnee bellee fast, but he catches by-nndbye, ' I i Hi vah, cumshaw me, Makee muchee bobbaree, and Mtteesd?,e eye. Too muchee cumshaw far me. . ? [Chorus:!1 r " Cumshaw," it may be explained, is a very expressive word on the China const, signifying any kind of bribei. and argument for custom that the QhpstyffB,. traders know how to use, 1 ? 1 ornms Items of Interest. ? s t>f , # In our infancy we cut our teeth; in our old age our teeth cut ua. , rf A crirl Atitimnted to walk .the. ridffQ.. p&ie of a house in "Warren, Texas, having " made a bet that she could' do so. She * fell off and broke both her legs. .1* * * * I A company of mounted robbers jihad ' into Eagle Pass, Texas, and shot all the horses, cows, and dogs in the place, in revenge for the hanging of their companions. ' * r" ' ' A young woman stepped out on shah' cony in Paducah,but the aedcrurit says i that "the balcony wasn't these, aud'i never had been," A broken leggras t^e<, Consequence. Says the Detroit Free frew: rlf Rpqsia won't fight and Turkey won't fight and England has crawled into a cave, F grocers might as well come down- ia the price of dried apples. .w<m< u The Chicago sioueeotteis' union sent a roan to urge the Illinois Legislature to prohibit the employment of convict labor, and it was discovered that he had learned his trade in the penitentiary. * "What," asked an Arkansas paper, "shall we do with the school money ?"' We should say that in Arkansas, the best thing you can do is to spend il before ' the treasurer steals it, says an exchange "Smoky Jones," known throughout the Black Hills as a vagabond, has become suddenly wealthy by discovering' end selling gold veins. He gained Mr nickname by long difaee of soap, and! wealth makes no change in his habits. dr The Russian budget for 1077 shows the public revenue for the post year to have amounted to 570,778,000 roubles, and the expenditure to 568,770,000 roubles. The estimated expenditure for v1877 shows an increase of 3,500,000 roubles. . .. , ? Two women and a man axe,under arrest in Philadelphia. " They comprise the Charity Relief Association. They hired a house, put out a sign, collected frtrm tmriBTniont nawntia. pgcketed tiie proceed*., "they are said to have operated in the some manner in other cities. A beautiful country - girl grew indignant at a Madison (Wis.) hotel clerk because he presumed to run into her sleeping room and throw open the windows and turn off the gas, which was escaping, and would soon hare mhde her an angel. She had blown the thing out, as she would a candle. if "Yon would make a most beautiful j actress in the drama of life,"- whispered I a poetical Chicago youth to hb inamorata the other evening, 14 Indeed, 'tis so-^you would be a very star 1" 44 And yon,'** murmured the fair one, as she leaned op his shoulder?" w-wouldn't y-you like to support me ?" Now he . supports her regularly. k Avalanches of formidable sizfe are common in this winter of deep snow op the Western mcuntains. In Wyoming , a blast in a mine loosened the snow on the surface above, and fonr men were carried with frightful velocity down a steep descent, one of them being killed. In Nevada a cabin was Swept away, and three men who were in it were killed. Mabel Hall, a ballet girl, was murder - * - Oi T , ed in tiie green room ot a on. UUUiO 1 theater by a jealous lover, and he is now on trial. In the court room a table and | chairs were arranged like the furniture I in the room where the murder was committed, and an actor, as a witness, described the crime by imitating the km| gnage and movements of the murderer. | A youngster being required to write i a composition upon some portion of the ! human body selected that which unites , the head to the body, and expounded as I follows: " A throat is oenvenient to have, especially to rooetera and minis I ten. The former eats the corn, and crows with it; the latter preaches through his'n, and then ties it up. This is pretty much all I can think of about necks."' i t Richard A. Proctor, writing about the > probability of there really being such things as " sea serpents, says it is not likely that naturalists know all the forms of animal* that exist in the oceans. He reminds ua that, the first account of a : giraffe was laughed at, that the gorilla was for a long time disbelieved for, and that those who originally described a gigantic cuttlefish were regarded aa bars. - n 1? < fW star.