THE BEAUFORT TRIBUNE
AND PORT ROYAL COMMERCIAL.
_ _ -
VOL. Y. NO. 37. BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 16, 1877. $2.00 per AMU We Copy 5 Cents.
To a Seamstress.
Oli! what bosom but must yield,
When, like Pallas, you advance,
With a thimble for a shield,
And your needle for a lance ?
\
Fairest of the stitching train,
Ease my passion by your art;
And in pity for my pain,
Mend the hole that's in my heart.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
i
A bachelor still young and well-to-do ;
is for obvious reasons an object of the
deepest interest to his friends of the op
posite sex. Lord Feathers tone was as
popular with Indies as if he had been a
spirit-rapper, or an Hindoo ]x>teutate
with diamonds to scatter broadcast and a i
suppressed begum in the background at j
home. They were always telling him
that it was a sin and a shame the bliuds j
in the town house should be constantly
down ; the hall tilled only with shooting- I
parties ; the jewels buried iu the strong ;
room at the bank.
Only he would not settle down. He !
meant to have his fling Hrst; and prob- j
* * 1 -l-'i !
ably it was ms iiauu ui lummug uuim? ,
about that niaile him so difficult to catcli.
He was as wary as an old eockaU?o;
prompt to cut himself free from the most
serious eutanglewents.
After making hot love for a week dur- j
i-ug wet weather iu the country house. j
papa and mamma heard that he had ;
broken his leg in two places, or that typhoid
fever had laid him low. His last
affair was with a gay widow, who thought \
him safely h'>oked; but at the last mo i
ment he sent a postcard, couveying briei ,
regrets, and sailed in his yacht for the j
South Seas.
He was absent after this for two or i
three years; bnt presently, wearying of j
the constant wandering to and fro. lie j
returned, and took np the threads of his j
old life. The season was at its height, if j
that lugubrious season of 1876 can be 1
said to have ever risen above a dead
level of lugubrious dullness. His friends j
said he was a fool to come back. Never >
had there been a season so "slow;" noth !
iug going on?not a creature in town. >
" Looks like it!" thought Lord Featherstone,
as he tried to make his way
through the serried ranks upon the
stairs in a certain mansion in Grosveno:
square.
A crush of this kind is especially
^ favorable for the minute observation of
oie's fellow-creatures. But the sights,
although curious, were not enthralling
to a man who ha t just seeu Fusiama and
the Taj-Mahal; and Lord Featherstone
was on the point of leaving the house
when a bright face in the crowd arrested
his attention, and he resolved to stay?at
least until he could ascertain to whom it
belonged.
It was quite a new face to him; the
face of a girl still fresh, and seemingly
accustomed to the town. A merry.
piquant face, with small but perfect features,
violet eyes, and a laughing month,
showing often the whitest teeth. A face
strikingly beautiful, but innocent and
childish, just as the ways of its owner
were unconventional and unconstrained, i
A most bewitching captivating young
person, and Featherstone was determined
to find out who she was. Surely
some one could introduce him.
Quite half an hour elap ed before he
caught Tommy Cutler, who knew all the i
world, and theD, going to where he had '
last see^i the girl, they found she had
disappeared.
He had been riding on at a sharp c anter,
which increased, as he left the more
frequented parte of the Row, to a hand- :
gallop.
But au unexpected vision suddenly arrested
his course.
"By jove ! That face again !" Yes,
the girl he had seen but a few nights
siuce: the fair fresh young face which
bad taken his fancy by storm. She was J
alone, seated in a quaint old-fashioned,
yellow chariot, a ramshackle mediaeval
conveyance, probably as old as the hills, j
But where had she come from; who
could she be ? He was determined to j
find out this time.
The carriage would doubtless -travel i
by the conventional route, across the
Serpentine bridge, and back totbecrowded
drive.
But, to his surprise, the chariot passed
out at the Marble Arch, and leit the :
park. He pursued, promptly, aloug Oxford
street to the circus, up Langham
place into Portland place, sharp to the
right by Weymouth street into Albany
street, and so to Park street.
What could have brought this young
lady 60 far out of town? Business,
pleasure, or mere desire for change of !
air and scene ? While Feathers tone was
still debating, the carriage stopped short
in front of a modest cottage. Presently
an old gentleman issued forth and assisttha
on'rl to ftliffht. There was do loot
?? ? ?o
man, and as she went into the house she
said lond enough for Featherstone to ;
hear : "In an hour's time, Georgy '
then she disappeared. Under her arm
was a portfolio, in the other hand an unmistakable
color box.
Riding slowly to and fro, Feathers tone
waited while the time slipped. Presently
the young lady accompanied by her
drawing master came out, shook hands,
jumped into the carriage, and was driven I
off.
Now, for the first time, Featherstone !
became aware that the coachman had
been drinking, and was almost too unsteady
to sit upon his box.
The coach man'8 erratic course soon :
proved that there was some ground for
these forebodings. i
It was really time to interfere.
Featherstone rode up rapidly.
" You're not fit to drive ! You're^en- :
dangering this lady's life. Here," he
urned to the ubiquitous " Bobby,'*
" I'll give this fellow into custody. Take
him, carriage and all. My name is Lord
Featherstone.
" And pray what is to become of me ?"
said a small voice, a little tremulous in
its tones, but not without asperity.
" Am I to be given into custody too ?"
Featherstone took off his hat.
"A thousand apologies. My interference
would have been unpardonable
but for the gravity of the situation. If
you will but tell me'what you wish "?
"Togo home of course, as soon as
possible. My aunt will be in terror."
"This rascal cannot drive you; [he
won't be fit for hours."
"If I might make 10 bold?" paid S
1002, " there's good livery stables at the
Chequers. You might put the carriage '
up, or get another driver there."
A very sensible suggestion, adopted ,
forthwith.
The chariot was conveyed thither in ,
safety. Featiierstone dismounted, then
helped the young lady to descend.
"I trust you will have no more con- i
tretemps." He spoke gravely. " This ;
new coachman is sober, but he is of |
course an utter stranger."
There was a shade of misgiving in his ,
voice, which had the desired effect.
" Dear, dear, suppose he too should
r>iAv triok. I oucrht not to have
x %r " " o
come alone. Aunty said so. What
shall I do now ?"
4 4 If you would accept me at. an
escort"?
How deep he was!
44 Only too thanklnlly. But it would i
be trespassing too mucli upon your good
nature. You have been so kind already.
"
44 My horse has gone lame in two
legs."
It was a wonder he hadn't developed
navicular lamiritis and farcy.
44 Then I shall be doing you a service
really ?" she cried, witli animation.
4 4 Distinctly."
Then they got iu together aud drove
off. ' !
For u time neither spoke. Featherstone
felt upon his good behavior; he
was disposed to be as deferential as to a
royal princess.
" Do you think lie knows where to take ;
us ?" she asked.
" Not unless you've told him."
"Don't you know?"
"How should I? To London, I suppose."
"That's a wise address," and she j
laughed aloud. 1 'No, Kensington square;
that's where we live, Lord Feather- ;
stone."
He started.
" You know my name, then'?"
ArtfuJ young person, why did wot she !
confess to this sooner j
" Of course; I heard you tell the po-1
liceman."
" That's well; now may I know yours ?" j
"Kiss,"
Good Heavens! Featherstone was j
near saying. " Kiss ? Kiss whom ? Kiss !
her?"
" Kiss Legh; that's my name; it's
short"?
" And sweet." Featherstone could uot
check himself.
"Short," she went on, seemingly unconscious,
"for Keziah. We come of an
old Quaker stock on the borders,between
Shropshire and Montgomeryshire. My J
father and mother are dead; all my people
arc dead. I went to school in France, j
and now I've come to London to be
finished."
She prattled on now, frank, fluent,
and uniffected. "And how do vou
like it ?"
"What? London?"
"No; being finished."
" T haven't cot to the end yet. That'll !
be when I'm marrrieiL But there is not j
much chance of that yet a while."
" Why not ?" asked Featherstone,
highly amused.
" I don't like anybody well enough." j
" Perhaps nobody's asked you ?"
" You are quite a stranger, Lord
Featherstone, and you have no right to !
ask me such questions."
" Well, I won't; we'll talk about something
different. We're getting into the ,
streets. Do you know this part of Lon- j
don ? It's called Kentish Town, because
it's in Middlesex."
" I'm not well up in London geogra-,
phy. , It's my first visit to town."
" He's taking us through, the park !" j
cried Featherstone, in some consterna- ,
tion.
"Yes; why not ? I am glad of it. It's i
pleasanter than the streets."
44 Oh, if you prefer it. Only "?
He was thinking that it was now well
on in the afternoon, and the park would j
be crammed. For the girl's sake it1
would be better they should not be seen :
thus publicly together, and alone. For
his own also; few men like to be carted
round the drive iu a carriage, least of
all in such an antiquated conveyance j
as this old yellow chariot with its high
springs.
" We'll go out at Hyde Park Corner
then."
44 No, uo; I love the drive best. Perhaps
the princess will be out; aud I like
to see the other people, aud you can tell
me who they all are."
Like a martyr he succumbed. It i
was best to put a good fa?*e on the matter.
Before night it wouhl be all over London
that Beau Feathers tone had turned
into a chaperou for country cousins, or
that he had been taken captive by a fair
face in a yellow " shay."
44 Here, hansom!" aud his lordship
drove on to Brooks'.
44 Here is Featlierstoue himself," said
a man, iu the bay-window; 44 we'll ask :
him. I say they're betting five to four
you've started a yellow chariot, and were '
seen in it in the park."
44 Did you pick it up in Japan ?"
44 Is it the coach Noah drove home in
when lie landed from the ark ?"
Featherstone abruptly left the room.
The absurd story was evidently on the
wing. More serious was the next onslaught.
44 You ought not to have done it,
Featberstone," said old alt. ?'nmrose,
who had been his father's friend, and
presumed therefore to give the eon ad- .
vice. " You have compromised the girl seriously;
aid she is such an absolute
child."
" Excuse me; I am not called upon to
give account to you of all my actions."
" You ought not, I repeat, to have appeared
with her thus publicly. It was ;
bad enough to take her down to Richmond,
but to put your arm round her i
| waist openly in the park "?
"Really, Mr. Primrose!" Featherstone's
face flushed, but he restrained
himself.
He knew gossip grew like a rank weed,
and he wished to root up this scandal at
onoe and kill it outright.
; "I may as well tell you at once; thd:
young lady is about to become my wife."
" Featherstone, I beg your pardon, i
and I give you joy. I knew something
of these Leghs; not over-wealthy, but
! charming people. I am heartily glad to
think this girl has done so well and so
soon. Is it to be announced at once ?"
"Well, not exactly at once," said
i Featherstone. thinking perhsf a if would
be as well to consult the young lady herself.
Of course she would say " yes;"
but as a matter of form he ought to ask
her.
It was quite with the air of the grand
seigneur that he presented himself next j
day in Kensington square. To his sur- j
prise he was not very well received.
There had been a scene between Ke- j
ziah and her aunt directly the former reentered
the house on the previous evening.
The girl, without attempting to
withhold one iota of information, had
given her aunt a full account of what
had occurred?the coachman's iniseonduct,
the danger only averted by the
timely intervention of a strange gentle
mau, wli(? had kindly escorted lier home.
" His name was Lord Featherstone." ;
"That wretch !" instantly cried Miss j
Parker, an old maid, prim and precise in !
her appearance and in all her ways, yet j
not disinclined to listen to at least half
the scandalous gossip in circulation t
through the world.
" Do you know him, Aunt Parker ?"
" Who does not ? He is a notoriously l
wicked mau "?
"I thought him very nice." Keziah j
spoke defiantly and very firmly in de
* * * ~ V ,.3 *
ience oi ut*r utrw incuu,
" Of course you did. He can be most
agreeable. I have heard of him over
and over again. That's the danger of
him."
"He was so kind and obliging. He;
told me who everybody was in the ,
park "?
" Can it be possible that yon were so j
mad as to go into the park with him iu j
the afternoon, when it was crowded, j
when hundreds must have seen you to
gether ?"
" Of course we came through the park j
together; it was the shortest way home. I
I cannot see any great harm in that."
" It's not likely; you are so young and j
inexperienced; yon see no harm in any- !
thing. But he knew the mischief he was ;
doing, only too well. The wretch, the I
wretch !" Mild Miss Parker would have 1
been glad to see wild horses tear liim !
limb from lii^b. " However," after a
pause, "you must promise me faithfully
that you will never speak to him
again."
" He 6aid he would call just to inquire
how I was," Kezioh said, in a low voice,
which might easily have meant that she
hoped he would not be told peremptorily
to go away.
"Iwillsee him if he comes," Aunt
Parker finally replied. " It is not fitting
that he should pursue his acquaintance
with you, begun as it was under such
questionable auspices."
And in this decision Kezinli was forced
to acquiesce.
When, therefore, after some delay and
demur, Lord Featlierstone was admitted
to Aunt Parker, her manner was perfectly
arctic. She sat bolt upright, with a
* i - i? ?i
stony iook in ner eyes uuu uuxj tn^iu
monosyllables on her lips.
"I called," said his lordship, with
much aplomb, " to see Miss Legh."
"Yes?" Aunt Parker asked, much as
though Lord Featherstone was the bootmaker's
man, or had come to take orders
for a sewing machine.
" My name is Lord Featherstone."
" Is it?" He might have been in the i
habit of assuming a dozen aliases every
twenty-four hours, so utterly indifferent
and incredulous was Aunt Parker's tone. :
*4 It was my good fortune to be able to
do Miss Legh a slight service yesterday,"
he went on, still unabashed.
"A service!" Miss Parker waxed indignant
at once. " I call it an injury?
a shameful, mischievous, unkind act; for
which, Lord Featherstone, although I
apprehend it is not much in his line,
should blush for very shame."
"Really, madam"?he hardly knew
whether to be aunoyed or amused?" I j
think you have been misinformed. Prob-!
ably but for me Miss Legh's neck would \
have been broken."
" I know that, I know that, and I al- j
most wish it had, sooner than that she
should have so far forgotten herself."!
Miss Parker looked up suddenly and
sharply, saying with much emphasis:
" Oh, Lord Featherstone, ask yourself?
you are, or ought to be, a gentleman, at j
least you know the world by heart?was j
it right of you to take such an advantage? !
Did you think what incalculable harm 1
this foolish, thoughtless mistake?which i
is certain to be magnified by malicious '
tongues?may work against an innocent, ;
guileless child ?"
" I know I was greatly to blame. 1 !
ought to have known better. But it was j
Miss Legh's own wish to go through the '
park, and I gave way."
" How noble of you to shift the burden j
on to her shoulders. But we will not, if i
you please, try to apportion the blame. J
The mischief is done, and there is no J
tioiil AYP*>r?t, to ask von to
illViC IV MV V?VV|T? ^ _ ,
moke us tlie only reparation in your j
power 1"
"And this is"?he looked at her in i
surprise. She did not surely mean to !
forestall him, and demand that which he I
came to offer of his own accord ?
"To leave the house and to spare us j
henceforth the high honor of your ae- j
quaintance."
" That I promise if you still insist after
you have heard what I am going to say.
I came to make reparation full and complete,
but not in the way you suppose. '
I came to make Miss Legh?and if she j
and you, as her guardian, will deign to i
accept of it?au offer of mv hand."
Little. Miss Parker's face was an amus- j
ing study. Her lower lip dropped, her \
eyes opened till they looked like the \
round marbles on a solitaire board.
" Lord Featherstone, you 1"
" I trust you will not consider me in- j
eligible; that you have no objection to :
me personally, beyond a natural annoy- !
ance at this silly escapade."
44 It is so sudden, so unexpected?soso"?
Poor Miss Parker was too much
bewildered to find words; a thousand
thoughts agitated her. This was a splendid
offer, a princely offer. Match-maker
by instinct, as is every woman in the
world, she could not fail to perceive what
dazzling prospects it opened to her
niece. But, then, could any happiness
follow from such a hastily-concluded
match ? These latter and better thoughts
prevailed.
44 Lord Featherstone, it is out of the
[ question, or, at least, you must wait ; say
a month or two, or till the end of the
I season."
The engagement ought to be announced
immediately to benefit Miss
i L?gh," I
J
"And this is your real reason for pro- j
posing? Lord Featherstone, I retract I
my harsh words; you shall not outdo us j
in generosity. We cannot accept your '
offer, although we appreciate the spirit;
in which it is made."
*f I assure you, Miss Parker, I esteem I
Miss Legh most highly. I like her im-j
mensely. I am most anxious to marry j
her."
The bare possibility that he might be j
refused?he of all men in the world? ,
gave a stronger insistence to his words, i
Miss Parker shook her head.
" No good could come of such a mar-1
riage; yon hardly know each other. You ,
sav von like her ; perhaps so ; but can J
you tell whether she likes you ?"
4'At least let me'ask her. Do not i
deny me that. I will abide by her an- '
swer."
There was 110 resisting such pleadiug i
as this.
441 may prepure her for what she is J
to expect ?" asked Aunt Parker, as she I
moved toward the door.
44No, no; please, do not. Let me |
speak my own way."
He did not distrust the old lady, but ;
she might indoctrinate Keziah with her !
views, aud prejudice her against him. i
It was becoming a point of honor with j
him to succeed, and he thought he could; j
He was no novice in these matters.
ere now he had often held the victory in
an issue more difficult than this in his
grasp, and all he wanted now was a fair
neld and no favor.
44 Aunt Parker said I was never to
speak to you again," Kiss said, as she
came into the room, with an air of extreme
astonishment; 44and now she
sends me to you of her own accord !
What does it mean ?"
44 It means that I have something
very particular to say to you. Yon are
no worse fervour drive, I hope?"
44Is that all?. Yes; I am ever so
much worse?in temper. You should
have heard Aunt Parker go on ! Did
anybody scold you ?"
441 escaped any very serious rebuke?
except from my conscience."
44 Dear me* Lord Featherstone, you
make me feel as though I were in church.
Was it so very wicked, then, to help me
in my distress ? I thought it was most
good of you."
This simple but italicized earnestness
was very taking.
4 4 No ; but people are very censorious.
They will talk. They are coupling our
names together already."
44Does that annoy you?" Her air
was candor itself. 44 Do you mind very
much ?"
44 Well, perhaps not very, very much.
It can do me no harm."
441 am glad of thai" 9
44 But it ni^y you, and it ought to be
stopped." '
44 Of courso ; but how?"
?*rin>rA in nnlv one wav that I can see.
Let us have only one name between us.
I caunot very well take yours. Will
you take mine ?"
*'Why?why"? A light seemed t
break in on her all at once. " Oh, wb
a funny man you are ! That's just t e
same as an offer of marriage. You c: 't
mean that, surely ? It would be t v ?
quite too? absurd."
" I don't see the absurdity," said his
lordship rather gruffly. Were well
meant overtures ever so shamefully
scorned ?"
" Oh, but I do !" Keziahs little foot
was playing with the fringe of the
hearthrug. " I do. That is, if you are
in earnest, which of course you're not."
" But I am in earnest. Why should
you think I'm not ?"
" You don't know me; you can't care
for me. You never spoke to me till yesterday.
You are only making fun, and
it isn't fair. I wish you'd leave me
alone."
Her eyes were full already.
" I am to go away, then ? That is your i
answer ?" She hid her face in her hands 1
and would not speck. "You wrll be
sorry fortius, perhaps, some day." She j
shook her head most vigorously. ;
" Keziah Legli, you are the only woman !
I ever asked to*be my wife. I shall j
never ask another. Good-bye, and God
bless you!"
Aud Lord Fear herst one, with a strange !
feeling of dejection and disappointment, j
left the room. He could not have be- '
lieved that within this short space of
time he could have been so irresistibly i
drawn towards any girl. Now he was J
grieving over his failure as though he !
were still in his teens.
Presently Aunt Parker came in and ,
found Keziah sobbihg tit to break her j
heart. '
"I don't want him! I don't want j
him! He can go away if he likes?to
the other end of the world."
"Have you been very ill used, uiv
sweet ? What did he say to you ?"
"He asked me to marry him," she
said, with difficulty, between her sobs.
" Was that such a terrible insult,
then ?"
" He was only making fun. I don't
like such fun. And I don't want to see i
him again, never, never, not as long as I
live J"
" Kiss, you are right to.consult your
own feelingsin this. But Lord Featherstone
was in earnest, I think, and his intentions
do him infinite credit."
Then she told her niece what had
passed.
"Still, if you don't care for him, it is
iw?af if i* " i )rv vour tears. Kiss, and
think no more about it."
" But I think I do cure for him,,> she
said, and began to cry again.
Lady Carstairs became very ranch exercised
in spirit as the days passed, and
vet nothing positive was known of Lord*
Featkerstone's intentions towards Miss
Keziah Legh.
She made many futile efforts to meet
him, then she called and sounded the ladies
in Kensington square, with whom
she was moderately intimate. They put
back her cross-examination mildly but
effectually. But at last she met Featherstone
face to face, and attacked him at
once. " Your high-flown sense of honor
did not bear practical test, then ?"
" How so, Lady Carstairs ?" His coolness
was provoking.
"Why rusk off to Central Africa, except
to escape scandal?"
" Am I going to Central Africa? Perhaps
I am. Why not?"
! " Can it be possible that she has refused
vou ?"
"Who could refuse me, Gar*
i staira ?"
" No ; but do ell me, I am dying to
know."
" You must fi .d some one else to save
your life, then.
"But, Loru Featherstone, we shall
see you once more before you 6tart? c
You will come and dine with us ? Just 8
to say good-bye."
He could not well escape from an invi- !
tation so cordially expressed, and the ;
night was fixed. But he little thought :
what malice lurked beneath.
The party was a large one, and he, as 1
was often the ca.-?e, very late. But he
entered gaily, as if he had come a little 8
too soon, shook hands with the hostess, J
bowed here and there, nodded to one *
friend and smiled at another, then, las*
of all and to his surprise, his eye* rested
upon Kiss Legh.
Lady Car8tairs had done it on purpose,
of course; that was self-evident. Unkind,
unfeeling, ungenerous woman. For
himself lie did not care, but it was cruel
upon the timid birdling, so new and
strange to the world. But fast as this
conviction came upon him, yet faster
came the resolve that Lady Carstairs
should make nothing by the move. A
thoroughly well-bred man is never taken
aback, and Featherstone rose to the occasion.
Without a moment's delay, before
the faintest flush was hung out like
a signal of distress upon Keziah's
cheek, he had gone up to her, shaken
hands, and spoken a few commonplaces
which meant nothing, and yet set her
quite at her ease.
" MiGS Legli and I aro very old
friends," he said. 44 How do you do,
Miss Parker? How is the coachman ?
Have you heard, Mr. John, the prince
is expected next week ? There will be
great doings." And so on.
That little Kiss was grateful to him
for his self possession, was evident from
tlie satisfaction which beamed in her
eyes. Oh, those tell-tale eyes !
Now Lady Carstairs brought up her
reserves and fired another broadside.
" It is so good of yon, Lord Featherstone,
to come to us; aud yon have so
few nights left."
44 When do you go, Featherstone ? and
where ?"
44 Haven't you heard ? To Central
Africa." Lady Carstairs answered for
him.
Can this be tnie ? Keziah's eyes asked
him in mute but eloquent language,
which sent a thrill through his heart.
44 Where this story originated I cannot
make out," said Featherstone, slowly.
44 I am not going to Central Africa. On
the contrary, T have the very strongest J
reasons for'staying at home."
14 And those reasons?"
" Are best known to Miss Legli and
myself."
Thoughts for Saturday Sight. 1
Fortune is the rod of the weak and the
staff of the brave.
Death is a friend of onrs, and he that
is not ready to entertain him is not at
home. (
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear of 1
him that hears it, never in the tongue of i
him that makes it. j
Friendship is the medicine for all misfortunes;
but ingratitude dries up the
fountain of all goodness.
Laughter is, indeed, akin to weeping, (
and true humor is as closely allied to .
pity as it is abhorrent to derision.
As the tonclistone which tries gold, ,
but is not itself tried by the gold; such
is he that lias the standard of judgment
In the affairs of life activity is to be
preferred to dignity,and practical energy ]
and dispatch to premeditated composure i
and reserve.
Many judge rashly only for the pleasure
they take to discourse, and make 1
conjectures of other men's manners by J
way of exercising their wits. I
To doubt is an injury; to suspect a 1
friend is a breach of friendship; jealousy 1
is a seed sown but in vicious minds; 1
prone to distrust, because apt to de- 1
ceive.
Judges ought to be more learned than
witty, more reverent than plausible, and
more advised than confident. Above all
things integrity is their portion and
proper virtue.
"There is nothing," said Plato, "se
delightful as the hearing or speaking of
truth." For this reason, there is no conversation
so agreeable as that of a man of
integrity, who hears without any intention
to betray, and speaks without any
inf*vnti*vn tn iteeeive.
Monkeys and Their Antic*.
From "A Village of Wild Beasts " in
fit. Nicholas for August we cull the following
pen picture:
Near the Lion House is a smaller
building, which is appropriated entirely
j to monkeys, and is therefore a favorite
resort for children, many of whom learn
a lot of cnrious tricks by watching these
I fuiu y animals. Here are monkeys of all |
; colors, and all sizes, and all kinds.
! There are about fifty of them in a great
, high cage in the middle of the room,and
here you may see them climbing up
i swinging ladders, hanging from ropes,
dropping down on each other's heads,
pulling each other's tails, and doing
everything that they can think of to
tease and bother each other?all skip- j
I piug and jumping and tumbling and
I chattering as if they had been in school
j all day, and had just got out for a little j
play. Some of these monkeys look like !
I old'men, with gray hair and beards, and
! you might suppose that they were much
i too grave and reverend to ever think of
cutting up monkey-shines. But if you
. watch one of these little old fellows, who
is sitting, looking wisely and thoughtfully
at you, as if he were just about to
explain the reason why the sun gives us >
: less heat in winter, when it is really much j
nearer to us than it is in summer, you {
! will sec him suddenly get up,and instead j
' of taking a piece of chalk to show yon J
j on a blackboard the relative positions of
! the sun and the earth at the different
i seasons, he will make a tremendous
jump, and seizing some other monkey
by the tail, will jerk him off a swinging
ladder quicker than you could say
i "pterodactyl."
Why?
" Why is that tent on the lawn yon- j
i der," asked Spilkins, one hot afternoon, i
" why is that tent like the last Presiden-1
tial campaign ?" Everybody at once knew
something awful was coming, and gave
; it up. " Because It's a heated canvass,"
! sala Spilnkins, dodging arotfnd the cor*
! ner of the piazza,
PAR*, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
Barley or OatM.
Iu regard to whether it is better to sow
>ats or barley, much depends on climate
md soil. In sections where oats do well,
ind barley usually fails, it would be
in wise to sow barley. But in those secions
where the climate is alike favorable
or barley or oats, and where it is a quesion
of soil and preparation, it may be
ibserved:
1st. That oats sometimes do well on
in old sod, but barley rarely, if ever,
* a_i- 1a4a?* llon kni?_ 1
IOCS HO. iSU. V/ULH IlJJril llibCl luau ?/mey,
and while it is very desirable to sow j
>at? as .early as the land can be got iuto j
food condition, still you stand a better
chance of a crop from late sown oats
han from late sown barley. 3d. Oats '
Fill do far better on low, mucky land,
;han barley. If such land is well drained
?nd is in good heart, and in fine, mellow
xmdition?as after a well cultivated
;oru, potato or root crop?a great crop
)f barley nny sometimes be grown,
especially if tlie land has been limed,but
he chances are altogether more favorable
for a great crop of oats. 4th. On
ow, mucky land, that is only partially
trained, and which cannot be worked
iarly in the season, it would be folly to j
?)w barley. If sown at all, I would drill
in oats, if the land was diw enough to
idinit the use of the drill; or if not, sow
;he oats broadcast, and if they could not
be harrowed in, let them sprout on the
Mrface, and roll the land wiien it is firm
?nough to hold up the horses. It would
oe better, however, to summer fallow
mch land, working it thoroughly, and
nake it clean and mellow, and then seed
it down heavily with timothy (and pertiaps
red top) next August. At any rate,
lo not sow barlev. 5th. Oats will do
better on heavy clay land than barley,
rhis is the rule. The exceptions are
rare. The heaviest crop of barley I ever
jaw was on a field of heavy clay land that
was summer fallowed the year previous
for wheat by three plowings, and then
not 8 iwn to wheat in the fall, but plowed
igain in the spring early and sown to
barley. Everything was favorable, and
the crop was immense. 6th. On weedy
[and it is better to sow oats than barley.
Drill in the oats deep and use a plenty
bf seed. Roll the land either at the
time of sowing or after the oats are up.
Then, when the weeds are sprouted, and
ire in the seed leaf, go over the field
once or twice,or three times,if necessary,
with a light, fine-toothed harrow, for the
purpose of killing the young weed
plants. Oats can be harrowed with less
injury to the plants than barley. And
if the soil and weather are favorable, and
the operation is performed at the right
moment, thousands of weeds will be destroyed,
and the stirring of the ground
will be favorable to the growth of the
oats.?American Agriculturist.
Farm Notes.
Dressing for Fruit Trees.?A barrel
of ashes with eighty pounds of ground
bone, made moist with water, will dissolve
and constitute a good dressing for most
fruit trees.
Colic in Horses*?An officer who
commanded artillery during the late war
informs us of the following remedy for
colic in horses which he has tried with
perfect success in hundreds of cases:
Rub the horse well between the fore legs
and around the girth with spirits of turpentine.
Immediate relief follows.
The Farmer's Grindstone.?There is
no tool as essential on the farm as a good
grindstone; it is therefore necessary that
every fanner should have one and knowhow
to take proper care of it. A grindBtone
should always be kept under cover,
as exposure to the sun's rays hardens the
grit and injures the frame. The stone
should not stand in water when not in use,
as this causes soft places. The water
should be allowed to drip from some vessel
placed &bove the stone, and the drip
should be stopped when the stone is not
in use. All greasy or rusty tools should
be cleaned before being sharpened, as
grease or rust choke up the grit. The
stone should be'kept perfectly round.
Weaning Colts.?A Vermont farmer
says he weaned a last spring colt in the
following manner: I fed grain or meal to
the mare when the colt was with her.
The colt soon learned to eat meal with
the dame. After he has been taught to
eat with the mare he will eat as readily
when he is removed from her. I put my
colt in a stable where he could have
plenty of exercise in a large yard; fed
him with hay and bran mixed with milk,
w hich I soon taught him to drink without
the bran. I weaned him from the mare
in this way when he was three mouths
old; he seemed contented, and I think
? * 'i ?I..J ^;*i.
did as well as luongn ue uuunm nam
the mare two mouths longer. It is much
better for the mare, and more convenient
if one wants to use her, as most people
do in the country, while the colt is with
her. This way of weaning colts is very
convenient, and one can feed milk at
such times as seem judicious, substituting
grain or shorts for the milk at any
reasonable time.
A Plague of Rats.
The St. Louis Journal says that
" when Samuel Davis introduced a bill
into the Legislature last winter providing
for the destruction of rats, the press
of the State was inclined to indulge in a
great deal of badinage at Sam's expense.
If all reports be true, however, the
people, and especially the farmers of
central Missouri, have this summer
begun to realize the benefits of Sam
Davis' effort in their behalf. The
. ry ,1
counties or oaune, v^ooper nuu
are literally overrun bv rats, and the
crops are receiving incalculable damage
thereby. In many localities whole fields
of corn have been uprooted and destroyed
by rats, necessitating replanting or
abandonment for the season. The rate
burrow in the ground close to the fences,
in the hedges and ravines, breed large
litters three times a year, and devour
everything they come upon. They are
the old-fashioned wharf rate, such as
abound in every city. It is feared that
they will ultimately become a greater
scourge than the grasshoppers have
been, although there is now a wholesale
movement against them in the countiee
named. One farmer in Saline county
has within the past three months, killed
over 1,000 of the pests, for the scalps ol
which ht received 160, in accordance
with th# previsions of Sam Paria' bill,"
Items of Interest.
Seven thousand immigrants have arrived
in Oregon this year.
A sparrow and a chicken fonght in
Pottsville, and the chicken was killed.
The ninety-two papers in Mississippi
have a combined circulation of 50,228.
The woman who neglects her husband's
shirt front is not the wife of his
bosom. v
The United States raises twenty-eight
? * VnMno qKr>nf.
millions ux bwjuucj ojuu
thirty-three millions.
The boys at Reno, Cal., amuse themselves
lassoing Indians. Indians used to
lasso them, but they know the ropes
now.
One of the first pennies issued by our
government bore the inscription, 44 Mind
your own business." Very cent-Bible
advice.
The French mint has struck 10,000
francs worth of centime pieces in bronze,
each representing about the twelfth of
t an American cent.
The new jail at Fort Worth, Texas, is
described by a local paper as a 44 miserI
able failure, and not a safe place to coni
fine prisoners in."
Fifteen masked men went to a ball
i near McDade, Lee county, Texas, took
out four men from among the dancers
and hanged them to a tree.
When the czar's soldiers got into Paris
' in 1815, they drank all the alcohol in
; the jars in wliich the scientific French
preserved the museum serpents.
Under the head of 44Marriages" in
an exchange we find one commencing
44Paris?Green." The happy couple
should never be troubled with potato
; bugs.
The Turkish soldiers are taller than
. the Russians, and will average at*least
i five feet and ten inches. They wear full
1 beards, but have their heads shaved, or
j the hair cut very short.
The cereal product of Europe is about
' five thousand millions. Of this, Russia
j grows 1,006,000,000; Germany, 743,|
000,000 ; France, 687,000,000; and the
| Austrian empire, 550.000,000.
Stereotype printing was used in Hoi"
, land early in the last century. The
rollers for inking the type were invented
j by Nicholson. Stereotype printing was
i introduced into London by Wilson in
i 1804.
The United States, with a population
I of about 45,000,000, produces about 34$
I bushels of cereals to each inhabitant,
! wliile Europe, with a population of
' 297,000,000, produces only about 16$
j bushels to each person. >'
A Brooklyn' man went to the peniten|
tiary for his health. He was unwell, and
his physician told him to go right home
| and take something. He went right
j home and took his employer's watch. He
: calls that going to the penitentiary for
j his health.
At a recent party in Iowa a young man
j sat on a pyramid of ladies hats. Rising
quickly, he glided from the room, and
bolted for the depot, where he poked
his head into the ticket office and yelled,
j "When does the next train leave for
Batoum ?"
A locomotive on the Lake Shore raili
road struck a two-year-oM bullock. The
animal bounded over the smokestack and
fell across the boiler, the fore legs on
one side and the hind legs on the other.
The fireman went out on the engine and
held the animal until tl e train could be
stopped. The lively little bullock was
nntliinrr nnrp
| SL'ltllVIICUj UUVUlMg
i A famous old horse, owned by a genj
tleman in the northwestern section of
i Baltimore, kills from three to a half
dozen rats every night. When the rodents
come into his trough to eat the feed, and
old equine just seizes them by the back,
: gives a grip with his teeth, opens his
I mouth, aud they fall dead at his hoofs.
He is worth a half dozen cats,
j A lady in the suite of the Princess of
I Wales, when that lady and her husband
I visited Constantinople, speaksjof a dinner
j with the sultan as being very good, and ?
I in the European style, but as a very dull
affair. It was the first time that the
sultan had ever sat at dinner with ladies,
i or that any of his ministers, except the
j grand-vizier, had sat in his presence.
There were twenty-four at the table,
twelve of whom were Turks, who looked
frightened and astonished, and dared not
speak.
Pardoned to be Arrested.
i A strange extradition case has just
been settled in Indiana. On March 10,
j 1874, a rough named Meeker shot a man
in Toronto, who ultimately died from
liis wound. Meeker fled.but left behind
an overcoat with the name of a Cleveland
tailor thereon. The tailor identified the
j coat and told to whom it belonged.
; Meeker meantime reached South Bend,
Indiana, committed a burglary there,
was caught and sentenced to the North,
ern penitentiary at Michigan City for
J five years. The Canadian detectives fol|
lowed him up and requested his cxtradii
tiou, and for the first time in the history
of the penitentiary a prisoner declined
j to leave. The question now arose, should
he satisfy the law of Indiana, or should
j he be turned over to the tender mercies
nf f!nnar1iftn inrisdiction ? Judge Per
kins feared that if the Canadians took
him they might find him not guilty, and
then Indiaua would lose licr loving clasp
on the prisoner. The question was re- I
j served for a full bench of the supreme
court, and they decided to recommend
the governor to pardon Meeker. This
was done, and the unwillingly forgiven
I convict is now a guest of the Toronto
(jailer. His trial for murder will shortly
j take place.
A Practical Mining Class.?Thirty
' students of the Columbia College school
of mines are to have practical instruction
in mining coal this summer in the mines
at Dxifton, Pennsylvania. A rough
< frame house has been leased as a sleeping
plaoe, an 1 a New York cook engaged
i! to accompany them and provide them
i [ with food. The students will be divide !
, into parties of four each, and put in
' charge of a miner, whose duty it will be
i to instruct them in the method of ex!
i trading the coal. The coal mined by
i them will be subjected to the same se1:
vere examination as that dug by the
i miners, credit being given for clean ooal
!! and no credit for impurities, like slate.
!! The parties will work for four hours
1 i every d*y with pick aad shovel.