Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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WEEKLY EDITION WINNSBORO, SL C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1882. ESTABLISHED IN 1844. ^ A Pearl From the Ft rsiaa. ^3 dew-drop falling on the wild sea wave, & Exclaimed in fear, " I perish in this grave;" ^ But in a shell received, that drop of dew Unto s pearl of marvelous beauty grew, And happy now the grace did magnify Which thrust it forth, as it had feared, to Until again " I perish quite," it said, Torn by a rude diver from its ocean's bed, r ^ Oh, unbelieving! so it comes to gleam Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem. The seed must die before the corn appears Out of the ground in blade and fruitful ears: Low have those ears before the sickle lain Ere thou canst treasure up the golden grain; The grain is crushed before the bread is j made, And the bread broke ere life to men con- j ^ veyed. Oh, be content to die, to be laid low, * _ J L 1 3 J AxiU IV W U5UCU CU-1U. IV VO WIVACU If thou upon God's table may'st be bread, Life-giving food fcr soul an hrjagered. * AN ODD COINCIDENT. The sunset fire still lingers in the sky, and the long beach still glitters in the light, but the young girl pacing the I platform of the little depot at Beach? 11 - J i- - ^ Z4- ~11 1 Yine aoes uut uuie tue wauy vt it <ui. i She is looking at the white sands, it is | true, but not at the waves that run up ! t * so nimbly: " Every one with a foamy crest, ^ Worn like a jewel on its breast." ? She is staring, rather, with eyes lit with a sombre tire like the opal's, at a ^ distant pink dress which makes a bit of pale bloom on the beach. At that moment the bell rings. She casts one hurried srlance round and then steps into a car" A hand touches * her. " Why, Xcll, by Jove, I came near being Lite! Forgive me!" She did not speak, but went in silently and sat down in the first vacant seat. A rather flushed young man seated himself opposite to her, and gazed somewhat anxiously at the , . clouded face, "Nice evening for your trip, Nell!" he said, at last. " Yes!" The monosyllable fell from her lips ! r cold and hard as a bit of ice. " I ought to have started with you? j the fact is, I was detained." " So I saw"?with a slight blush and just the suspicion of a sneer on the full red lip. " Oh, so you saw me with Miss Han- j ly!" he said, moving uneasily. " Come, ! Nell, you don't mean to say you're ; jealous?" j Elinor grew suddenly very cold. " It's very odd," she said, in a choked j voice; " others have noticed it; for the last three weeks you have been devoted." "Devoted? Oh, come now, Xell, that's putting it rather too strong! I own I have talked to her; but if you can't trust me to talk to a woman?" The girl's eyes blazed; the opal spark kindled into a conflagration. "Vau Tiavp mv full nprrmqqinn tn talk to every woman in the future, J with one exception," she exclaimed; j ? ** and lest you should feel bound to 1 * her, you had better take back this I pledge, which must have been given in i l^S^av*TI"'she <li;)T)e.'l from her finger a solitaire diamond. The ligat caugnt i it as slie held it out to him, and it I Z- blazed like a fallen star. Xiel Gordon started back, and his j face grew white. "Good heaven, Xell, you are not in earnest? You are not going to let a freak of temper spoil both our lives ?" i "I am not the one responsible," she said, drawing herself up with dignity. " I have not been flirting desperately with another for weeks, looking into her eyes with absorbed interest, "stray-1 ing on the sands in the moonlight,; meeting her in the city. Oh, yes. I have heard of this last, too !" "You are wrong. Xell?by Jove,! you are?and all the gossips and tat-; tiers into the bargain! I am not at liberty just now to explain; but can't j . you trust me, Xelly, darling?" She still held out the ring. As he did not take it she dropped it in his pocket. " Oh, you cannot explain, but ask me to trust you," she said, with scorn. " Xo, I cannot trust you. I think I shall never trust any one again." It was Xiel's turn now to blaze with wrath. " So be it," he exclaimed. " If there is no mutual trust, the sooner all is over the better, and so, >vith your permission, I will go into the smoking-car and try a cigar." " That is all a man feels," she thought?" a cigar can solace him for 3: my loss," and her wrath increased \ "Donot curtail the pleasure of a! smoke on my account," she said, cold-1 ly. " I see judge Holt in the car. lie j will, I am sure, act as my escort when j I arrive. I should much prefer that j now." There was a minor cadence of mis- i ery in the " now" that the young man j did not notice. He, too, was irrespon- j ? sible from passion. " Oh, if you prefer that, all right. Adieu, and bon voyage," he said, ^cl the next moment the car door closed with its usual bang, and Elinor found j herself sitting alone, looking out deso-, lately at field and stream and wayside ; cottage as they whirled past. Somehow, the face of all the world . ' seemed changed to her?a something ! fled that would not return. She had been dreaming a pleasant dream, and Wftrt SW-SW* fVkrtf Tt* o c* oil it WOO U > Ci vjua.o iy ao axx. Strange that she thought so persistently of one evening on the sands, j -when the waves seemed to have learned ; a new song and the whole universe ; had been set to new music, and two ; lines from a familiar poem kept echo-? ing in her mind, and the car rushed on: "Many an evening by the seashore did we ! watch the stately ships, And oar spirits rushed together at the touch- ; ing of the lips." ' - SnrMpnlv slip hpcran tn mipsfion hpr- i self. Why should she go on ? The aim of her journey was defeated. r Alice Charlton, her dearest friend, was j passing through the city. She had j proposed spending the night with her,; to tell of her engagement. All that was over. Why should she go on V j Like a wounded" animal she longed to get back to her hole and bear her pain alone. The car stopped with a jerk. She j knew the station. She^vould get off : and be hone in the shelter of her own | room in an hour. Xo sooner thought than done. She was whirling back to the Beachville hotel in a kind of mourn-j ful dream. Her head ached, and it ' was agony to think. She wished there ! was any way of turning a valve in the brain, and shutting off tormenting! thoughts. She did not gain her room unchallenged. A certain pink dress floated near her, and a shrill voice cried, " ? nat: Gian t you go 10 ine . city?" Then there was a vigilant Z_- aunt to evade; but at last she had the ^ solace of finding herself alone. She \sat down by the window- and looked out at the wide summer skv, and wondered if the day would ever come when she could bury this dead love out of sight and forget it utterly. The night was warm and fragrant, and a harvest moon threw a silver ray upon the waves. Lovers were strolling on the beach, whispering those nothings which to them seem so wise, +V,o+ " Never earth's philosphers Traced with their golden pens Truths half so sage on the deathless page. '' Elinor looked at them with a dull pain at her heart. The slow, sad hours ebbed away. A bird's note suddenly pierced the darkness like a cry. Elinoj- started, and looking out, saw a luminous pallor in the air as if light was imprisoned somewhere. Then slowly and silently? ' The rosy streak, on ocean's cheek, Grew into the great sun." Ah! here was a new day?a day ?>ltll ail UlCU^ilt llivugtl mc sun might shine never so bravem* There was a stir in the house? some one knocked and then, suddenly a frightened, haggard little woman entered in a blue cashmere wrapper without collar or brooch. Mrs. Ilanly had not waited to apply the soft peach bloom to her cheek, or to pin on the lustrous locks of pale gold which were considered so " fetching " by the masculine portion of the guests. "I?I-*-know you couldn't have heard," she gasped; " and it's so dreadful, you ought to - know; but it's? really?very difficult for me to tell you, while you glance at me as if?as if I'd come to insult you," cried the little woman, quite overcome by Elinor's stern face. " Perhaps you will be good enough to explain," said Elinor, with all her dignity. " Oh! he was a real friend, and would have done so much! I shall never find one like him," and the little woman sobbed. " What have I to do with your friends ?" asked Elinor, scornfully. "Why, good Lord, it's Xiel!" cried Mrs. Hardy, mopping her eyes. Elinor's heart stood still," and everything about her seemed to swing into space with a horritue rush ana winrr. " Xiel! what of liim?" she faltered. True, she had given him up. He was to be nothing to her in the.future; but just now she felt that he was all?all of hope?all of happiness?all of life ! " The seven train last night met with an accident?twenty lives lost, or so, it's reported. I thought you ought to know, but he may be saved. The worst was the smoking-car?" " The smoking-car." How nonchalantly she had dismissed him. Oh, would to God she had died with him ! " I don't mind telling you, as you're engaged, how good he's been to me," said }?rs. Hanly. " I am not a widow ?my husband is in prison," with a sob ?"in prison for forgery. I did not want to puwiisii uiut/ muii uexe^uu ku-jv\. And Xeil took up my ease; he had hopes of getting poor Dick out. Oh, what shall I do?" A sharper pang than all that had gone before smote Elinor to the heart. She had wronged her lover, and perhaps he had gone beyond her sight forever, and she would never be able to say, " Forgive me." " I must go at once," she cried. " I must know the worst." ' I understand the feeling," cried rTvfnJjV^7 I would go with you but for my little boy. God go with you, and xnay lie grant " tne rest was extinguished in tears. Elinor lost no time. She was already dressed, and in a few moments was pacing the little platform. Last night she had walked there "wTth a perfect storm of rage, jealousy and wounded self-love laying waste all the pleasant memories of love in her heart. Inow she only felt an unutterable longing to look once more into the face of her beloved, and a horrible fear lest death had marred that face beyond recognizance. But, no; she would know him in spite- of change. What could alter him so that her heart would not leap ;at the sight of him? ? * * * * * When Xiel Gordon, sore and hurt beyond expression, had reached the smoking-car, the first thing he touched in his quest for the package of cigar etitrs wmctuiiig luiuxu a img. He brought it out and stared at it a second in wonder. " So she was bound to return it," he said, with a strange lump in his throat, and a memory of the night he had slipped it on her white finger with a kiss. "All! perhaps I'm well out of it. She has the deuce of a temper, and no mistake. But she has a good, true heart, if she is a little intense. I don't believe I shall ever care for any one else." "Hullo, Xiel! why so pensive, sweet one ?" Some one struck him heavily on the shoulder, as only one's best friends feel privileged to do. " So, Harry, I ought to know the touch of your fairy-like flipper. Have you a porous plaster to apply to the wound*?" " Come home with me and see. Do you recollect -certain cards sent to you a month ago? There is a Mrs. Harry Osborn, and the sight of her is a balm for all the ills that flesh is heir to. t* i i. ^ 1 ve DOUgllL d jUUJ JLLLlic CUtiage M Linden, next stopping-place. Now is your chance of having a glimpse for once in your life of Eden." "' Two souls with but one?'" "Yes, this is a privilege vouchsafed to few. Conn and stay with us tonight, and then you will go and gnash your teeth in despair." ' "With ten thousand a year I could manage love in a cottage, too." " Well, here we are! Don't go on this hot night. I will go with you in the morning." Niel was in that mood when anything that would distract his thoughts would be hailed with delight. He felt that if he went on smoking and moping in solitude he would go mad. He must rally from the blow. Why should he find every pleasure tasteless because one woman frowned ? "You don't know the delights of Arcadia," said Ilarrv, as they walked up a green lane. " lioses, and peaches and cream, and an angel." A /?/ >! K An n rv/I cu.ii^ri wini auu vicaiu. is 110 doubt excellent," said X iel. " I ate a piece of an ice-cream Cupid the other night at a party. It was very pink and perfect as regard; the flesh tints, and I felt like a can;;i: al." Out from the bowery little cottage came a petite figure in diaphanous rooes of white with rose-colored ribbons of coral about the baby neck and arms?a prattling, inane little creature?to whom Harry Osborn listened as though she had been an orar-le I with o r>on<r TTl?r?r*r? v.ivu^iiw ? Am tfc 1 and her warm enthusiasms, her frank opinions, her independent thought. The changefui face, not so ..beautiful ; save with the glow of intellect that ; illumined it like a light shining through an alabaster vase. Those eyes so full of honest purpose, eloquent month like "a rosebud set in willful little thorns"?but so sweet and tender?all haunted him constantly. They s?t under the woodbines for the post-prandial smoke, and he sighed involunj tarily. ?? V?a ** r.rinil TTom* *'or?XM \ju.y uv, AAcui > cii?ivuj, 1 eh V?go and do likewise." Siifcv i:SS vii. ^^-k>urw^aia8?s " I wish I could!" "Of course you couldn't find anothei i Cora; but, see here, I believe you're in i | love." "I am?but, I've had a sort of mis :: imdestanding." ! " Oh. come, old fellow?make it up. j That's nothing. Cora and I have hadJ a dozen tiffs. The reconciliation is the j [ best part. Put pride in your pocket, ' ! my boy It will all come right." j Xiel did not feel very hopeful, how- | ever, as lie stood that night by the J window, and kept a vigil like Elinor's, I ; gazing out at that same pale silver j | sickle of the harvest moon. I lie began to accuse himself. Why j had he not insisted that she should have heard all? lie should have had : no secrets from her. She only showed ! :i nrowr snirit in r?sentinsr his con j duct! "With these thoughts tormentj ing him, it may be supposed that the | gray dawn found him haggard and j unrefreshed. As he entered the breakfast-room, Harry Osborn looked up from the damp morning paper he held in his hand. " You ought to keep a thanksgiving to-day, old fellow! You might have been what Montaline called a ' moist, unpleasant body,' but for me. A direct intervention of Providence, call it." "How?" asked Xiel, nonchalantly. "Why, the train?your train?ran loot- Clf\rul VJ on \*OY*> C 1 v-ii. ciit vxavzv mot xixi^uuy VJVVU *iv?. ? man, what's the matter ?" Xiel had grown white and staggered I to a chair. "For Gods sake!" he cried, in a hoarse voice, " let me see the paper. She was in the train." " Xo names published yet. Don't give up. It's likely she escaped. You i see, only a few were injured." Xiel took the paper with a shaking | hand, but he could not read. The words executed a strange dance down tne columns. Oh, why had lie left her? If he had staid he might have cared for her, saved her from fright and danger, or died with her?oh, blessed boon?now that life seemed so impossible without her! " I must go!" he cried, dashing down the paper. " I can't eat! I must find her!" Xiel did not speak a word upon that journey?he was communing with his own heart. " God was so near above ?the grave below." His friends respected his silence till they neared the fated spot. Some of the debris of the accident lay on the sides of the road! A strong shudder -went through Xiel, and he grasped Harry's hand convulsively, and it seemed to him as if he were suddenly frozen, for he heard the ilagmen saying to some one: "Oh, the bodies?in there," pointing to the little depot; "none on 'em claimed yet ? pore creturs!" Mechanically he started for that door, i Suddenly he stopped, dashed his hands over his eyes and wondered if he had gone mad. "Who was this that slowly and with faltering steps emerged from the same door?this slight figure in blue, who stared at him with won| dering eyes and pallid face, who stag j gered forward and would have fallen i but lor his arms! Ah! he held her at last?careless of inquisitive eyes. " Saved, my darling!" he said, as she clung to him, half-fainting. " Oh, Xiel, I have gone through the tortures of the damned." " I thought I was droaming or dying when you appeared," siie said; "I was sure I had lost you?and I deserved it." " Thank God, we don't all get oui deserts in this world," he said, with a happy smile. "How did you escape ?" j " By not being in the train," anj swered Elinor. "So, after all, the lovers' quarrel i must have been foreordained," said J Xiel: " who knows what might have ; been V" I " -xx'Ck Tt'/vn'f trv it orrain 99 mnr. | mured the girl. " IIullo!" cried Osborn. " I see it's j all right?introduce a fellow!" j "Are you going to Xew York this i morning ?" "Not this morning," cried Xiel. " Weil, good-morning!" Circumstantial Evidence. A party of gentlemen were recently r?r\-r\ tatoi*n rr of Hid Qorrriiont" ViAIIGO 1TJ VVU Y ?U VHV lv(Vi^VtWJUW A4WWV-, A*.* I Rome, Ga. The subject was circumstantial evidence. One gentleman remarked that if he were a juror on a case where the life and liberty of a ' man was at stake no (Circumstantial evidence, however strong and well connected, could influence him against the accused sufliciently to render a verdict of guilty. lie said that he had at one time been arraigned and tried for his life, and narrowly escaped an ignominous death. lie had a difficulty at night with a young man, and was so exasperated that he threatened to kill him before morning. He went to his room, | and his room-mate, observing his ex cited manner, asked tarn what was the i matter. He replied that he had just J had a difficulty with Ben Jones, and that he intended to kill him before he slept. His room-mate tried to quiet him, but he was determined and would listen to nothing he said. He seized his pistol, rushed from his room and was soon on Jones' track, i Within half an hour from the time he left his room with pistol in hand Jones was a dead man, weltering in his blood; a pistol shot had killed him just as the man who was hounding him was 4-SS. A nr?AXT/irl on/I fAim si c^A J ilUUUl; IV ill v. nniivj1 wuvi wwivuuuvu at seeing his intended victim fall simultaneous with the report of some other man's pistol, he rushed to the spot and bent over Jones' lifeless body, his own pistol still in hand, when a police officer appeared and arrested him.. One barrel of the pistol he had was empty; j all the others were loaded. Thus the evidence was conclusive, and after sen! fpncp Vmd lippn mssed on the innocent man the reai culprit on his dying bed confessed his guilt.?Rome (Ga.) Bulletin. Something to Console Them. " Do you know, sir," said the one on the further end of the bench in City Hall park; " do you know that the coal fields of this country will be exhausted in just 2,000 years ?" " Is that possible!" " And if the destruction of the forests ! goes on at the present rate for 722 years ! more, we won't have enough wood left ! to make a toothpick ?" " Great Scots!'' i * -i -t OAl ^ I "Ana m i,oy-? years mure we uw* ! look to see Niagara Falls fall away, and i Lake Erie a cow pasture?" " Upon my soul!" " And it won't take over 600 years more to bring this countrv into a frigid j zone'?" " It won't'?" ' And now, sir, dare you stand up and i tell me that the rich and renowned, who ' have got to worry over these things, can : take as much comfort as we gentlemen ! whn clt-nf in n sfciirwav l:xt niflrht anrl > are now waiting to strike some one for ten cents to buy a breakfast V" ' No. sir, I can't?couldn't possibly have the face." replied the other, and ' thev resumed their watch for a benevo ! lent countenance.?Wall Street Ntics. A TRAGIC ROMANCE. | A Thrilling Occurrence In the Forests of Kentucky. The Cincinnati Enquirer says : From a gentleman who returned recently from a business trip through Eastern Kentucky an Enquirer reporter learned the details of one of those atrocious murders which occur too often in that section. On the day of the last election i?is story runs, an old feud, originating from childish quarrels, broke out, and the result was the killing of one man in self-defense and the cold blooded murder of three, others. The scene was at the pells at the mouth of Blackberry, in Pike county, about twenty-five miles from Pikeville. In that section are two | families, the Chatfields and the Mc- i | Lots, with numerous relations. The Chatfields are the most numerous, and ; physically are the larger, the McLoys being small in stature. On the day of | election one of the Chatfield clan approached a young man of the McLoy family, and, swaggering up to him, said: "Jim McLov, you don't vote here to-day unless you vote as I do." The young man answered that he did not want any trouble, and would not vote at all. " Yes, you will," responded the bury., " "We've made you grind apples for us ; on your knees before this, and if you don't vote as I do to-day I'll make you." "With this warning the bully swag gered off. Young McLoy went away I and took a drink or so to arouse his I courage. A dozen jugs of " Mountain Dew" could be found not far from the polls, and was easy of access. After a while Chatfield returned, looking for McLoy, and found the ycung man in a place where escape was not easy. "McLoy," he said, 44 have you voted yet ?" "Xo," answered McLoy. "You'd better go and vote blamed quick, then; and vote as I tell you." Young McLoy straightened himself up; and with a voice trembling with i rage, probably mingled with rear, said: " Chatneld, you've made me go down j on my knees and grind apples for you, as you said, and hoe corn for you, but | you can't make me vote but just as I please to-day." Chatfield responded to this with a iierce oath and a motion as though to draw a pistol. "If I've got to die I'm going to die ! like a man." "With these words McLoy drew a clasp-knife with a five-inch blade and opened it. His adversary fired, the ball grazing McLoy's head. The latter sprang at his tormentor j with a cry of rage, and made a slash I which denuded the bone of one arm of i its llesh from the shoulder to the elbow. I Then with powerful blows he slashed 1 f!hjit.fiplil across the breast from i shoulder to waist and again in the other direction, then across the abdomen. He must have driven the keen, long blade, hilt deep, through | clothing and flesh at least twenty times before Chatfield fell. Each cut could be heard ripping its way through cloth and flesh ;ind grating on the bones in a sickening way. Cut to pieces, a mass of chopped flesh and I blood, with his bowels gushing to his knees, Chatueld fell to the ground. Although thus horribly wounded the man lived for three hours and a half. McLoy fled a short distance, a fusillade of bullets following him, but he psrymed unhurt. Turning and facinc the Chatfields, who had emptied their pistols,he said: "Gentlemen, I believe I was in the right. I defended myself. I give myself up." It was a terrible cro wd to surrender himself to. Xearly all around him were of the Chatfield elan?hardly a friend within sight. A younger brother i was present, but was powerless, ex-' cept to lay down his own life to satisfy j ' 4-T-.i "\Ts\ ron_ . LilC Sil\<iyc lUi. l/ivuvt. -Li \J resentative of law was there, and if he had been his office would have been a mockery. The man to whom he surrendered himself was an uncle of the slain man, and when McLoy gave up his knife this man took it and said: " I've a great mind to chug it into you." In an instant five men jumped at the disarmed prisoner and grabbed him by the throat or shoulder or wherever they could lay their hands, and five pistol-balls whizzed past his head. These men were crowded together too I flnselv. or were unsteady from liquor, for none of the bails struck McLoy. Others took him from his infuriated assailants, but with no intention of preserving his life, not even for the farce of a trial, as the sequel showed. McLoy's captors took him across Tug river into "West Virginia. Afraid that the authorities of that State would be better enforcers of the law than those of their own they returned with him on that or the next day. They had apparently made up their minds to a policy of extermination. They sent out parties and brought in McLoy's two brothers, aged respectively twenty and eighteen years. Let it be remarked right here that the second brother had been guilty of no oth.T offense than being present when the Killing occurred, while the boy of eighteen was not only not present but had never taken any part in the feud between the two sets of men, either by word or I deed. Having captured the three boys, the ! party struck for the woods. Nothing more was seen of them, and after allowing sufficient tim e for vengeance to be wreaked the athens sent out a party to investigr.io. After some search the bodies were found in a thicket. The boys had been made to stand in a row, their arms tied, each ; one's right arm to his neighbor's left, by green withes, and the free arms of the two on the outside tied in the same manner to two saplings. Strung in this fantastic manner they could not have resist d a woman. Their captors were determined to make themselves safe from the desperation of unarmed men. As they stood there looking down a steep hillside they were shot dead by one shot each in the back of t'm 'noorl the. hiillnts f>nmin<T nnt, at, thp forehead or near it. A shallow trench was dug, the three bodies laid in it, feet to feet, and a mound heaped over them sufficiently to give them four inches of earth. The roving hogs or j buzzards completed the burial, j That or the next day the father of | the boys came into town. lie inquired | of the successful candidate?for what j office our informant could not remem[ ber?what he should do, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he spoke, lie received r.o sympathy. Then he went about and sold his team, and with the proceeds bought a Spencer rii! anil ammunition. To some one : Tiow mM }.is voice choked with emo tiou: 1 i've l>id good-by to the old woman and the babies. I've robbed them to bu\ this, and this is my sole dependi encc now." He afterward disappeared ! in fie brush, and it is fair to be sup| posed that no relative of the Cfcat' fields will pass him and live. The feud of these families, from all | that eoald be learned from our in furmant?who had to be cautious about : exhibiting any curiosity?arose irom | children's quarrels. liaised on neiglii boring fams, tbey li^id fousrlit when | gathering nuts, splashed and ducked | each other while bathing, and carried on their animosity until, as they grew i to manhood, -the Chatfields being : larger and stronger men, had conquered the McLpys. They made them slaves. It is s?4d to be literally true that they made the McLoy, whose defense of himself brought on the mur i clers, grind appies xor tnem. uatcmng him one day while they were grinding ; for cider in an old-fashioned mill with a long sweep, they took the horse out ! and made him get on his knees and 1 push the sweep around until they grew tired of the brutal fun, whipping him with rods to make him go faster. They have compelled the McLoys to go into their fields and hoe their corn witliour pay. The McLbys were cowards, of course, or they never would have submitted to this, but one Chatfield learned that it will not do to corner even a coward. Drawing" the Cross-Bow. The cross-botf~was undoubtedly the moss aeauiy ox \ui rne missile weapons before the p^ccting of fire-arms. The Spaniard^ i-might it to the greatest degreSS^r-efficiency, but the French and En. i'h also made very fine cross-bows. The stocks of some I cross-bows are ' straight, others are crooked, sometfl it after the shape of the stock of a gun. A great many of these weapons had wooden bows which were made of yew-wood, but more had steel lathes. The arrows of the crossbow were called quarrels, or bolts. They were shorter, thicker and heavier than the arrowr. of the English longbow. The place in the cross-bow where the string is fastened when it is pulled back ready to shoot, is called the nut. From the nut to the fore end of the stock the wood is hollowed out, so that, when a quarrel is placed in position for firing, it does not touch the stock, except at the tip of its notch and the point where it lies on the fore end. The trigger works easily on a pivot, causing the nut to free the string, whereupon the bow discharges the quarrel. The history of the cross-bow is very rr "V/ill Tfill fin/1 HlQ't'. ardthe Lion-hen rted was a great crossbowman. He used to carry a very strong arbalist (the old name for crossbow) with him wherever he went. Even on his long expedition to Palestine against th<- Saracens his favorite weapon was. hi* constant companion. At the siege of Ascalon he is said to have aimed his quarrels so skillfully whn-rt-rr MrmnA worriAr AT) "f" 11 P> Liltib 112 ail J rn-iliv^vc ri u>iiiVA via wuv high Avails was pierced through and through. The steel bolts fired from the strongest cross-bows would crash through any but the very finest armor. There are breast plates and helmets of steel, preserved among British antiquities, which have been pierced by quarrels. I have read in old books, written in French and Spanish, all about how these terrible vepapons were made and used. : Richard was killed bv a quarrel from a French cross-bow. A plowman n the province of Compiegne uneartl.ed a gold statuette of Minerva, a mc-it valuable thing. This lie divided, seeding one hnlf to Richard and keeping" the" other' half liim fielf. But, you know, in those days a king wanted everything. Richard's lion heart could not brook to divide a treasure with one of his vassals. So he peremptorily demanded the other half of the treasure, which, being refused, he called together a strong army and went to lay siege to the strong castle of Cholaus, in Normandy, where the treasure was said to be hidden. But it was a dear expedition for the bold king. A famous cross-bowman by the name of Bertram de Jourdan, standing on the tall turret of the castle,* saw Richard riding around in the plain below and took steady aim at him. This Bertram de Jourdan had cause to hate the king, for Richard had killed his two brothers with his own hand. So when he pressed t.lie triorrpr nf hisnowfirful CrOSS-bOW lie I r sent a hiss of revenge along with the r steel-headed quarrel. Richard heard the keen twang of the bow-string and bent low over the bow of his saddle, but the arrow struck him in the shoulder and he died of the wound. So, you see, he would have done better to leave that gold alone. However, his men stormed the castle and brought Bertram de Jourdan before him while he lay dying. Richard was too noble to mistreat a prisoner, so he gave the crcss-bowman a magnificent present and ordered him to be set at liberty. But one Marcadee, an infamous brute, who was next in command to Richard, as soon as the king was dead ordered De Jourdan to he flayed alive and hung up for the vultures to eat. In the year 1100 William II., surnamed Eufus, a famous king of England, and a son of the conqueror, was killed by a cross-how holt in the forest at Charningham, accidentally, it is said, by Sir Walter Tyrrel, his bow-bearer. A nephew of King Eufus had been killed in May of the same year by a like mishap. But the deeds done with the mi?.hnw worfi not all so bloodv and [ terrible. From a very early date in the history of France companies of cross-bowmen have existed, among which those of Lisle, Roulaix, Lennov, Comines, Le Guesnoy and Valenciennes may be mentioned as prominent. That at Roulaix' was instituted by Pierre de Roulaix in 1491, a year before America was discovered by Columbus. The members of these societies shot at targets and marks of various kinds, and their meetings were often the occasion for great pomp and splendor, j Many of these companies have been ! suppressed bv law in comparatively re cent times. In England, I have read, as far back as the reign of William Kufus, laws I were passed forbidding the use of the arbalist, excepting by persons having especial royal permit. This was be! cause the cross-bow, particularly the j kind with a windlass attachment to ; draw the string, was so destructive to j the king's deer. You will at once see the great advantage the arbalist gave | to huntsmen who used it instead of the j long bow; for lie could shoot from any i tangled thicket where a long bowman I could not use his weapon at all. Then, } too, it required years of patient prac; tice before a man could shoot well enough with a long bow to hit a deer, j while any one, with but a day or two's S experience, could successfully aim a j cross-bow. Once De Soto and his men werepur! suing some living savages, when one | suddenly turned his face toward the Spaniards ana naiieu. lie was armeu with a long-bow and arrows, and was ; just across a narrow river from his j foes. lie made signs that he challenged ; any one of the Spanish cross-bowman | to fight a duel with him. The challenge was accepted by one .Juan de ! Salinas, a most expert arbalister, who stepped forth and faced the Indian. The comrades of Salinas offered to r.^l-c.r. liJtn with their hut flip V.V > ^ A. lliUi " brave soldier scorned to take advantage i of a naked savage. So he refused the | cover and placing a quarrel on the nut ; of his drawn bow made ready to shoot. . Ibe Indian also was ready by this ! time, and both discharged their ar! rows at the same moment. But Salinas was cooler under such stress of danger i than the Indian was, and so took truer | aim. His quarrel pierced the savage i warrior's heart, and he fell dead. The 'bows of the savages were puny things when matched against the steel arbalists of the trained Spanish soldiers. The Indian's slender reed arrow passed through the nape of Juan de Salinas' neck, but without seriously hurting him. A quilted shirt of doubled silk was sufficient protection against most of the Indian missiles, and a man in steel armor was proof against all. I have seen a picture of Queen Elizabeth of England, representing her in the act of shooting at a deer with an arabalist. But she had a strong man for her bow-bearer, and all she had to do was to take aim and pull the trigger after the bow-bearer had made the arabalist all ready for shooting. The manner of hunting deer in those days was to stand in a Spot whence you I could see in all directions through the forest, while a number of expert ! woodsm en drove the game near to you as you held your arbalist ready to shoot. If you shot at a running deer you would have to aim far ahead of it in order to hit it Ilare or rabbit shooting was great sport for the cross-bowmen. For this purpose lighter arbalists were used. The hunter kept carefully trained dogs, somewhat like our pointers and setters, whose business it was to find the game. Twenty-five yards was about the usual distance for shooting at rabbits. They were rarely shot while running.? Maurice Thompson, in St. Nicholas. An Artist in Tattooing1. A New York reporter has had an interview with a man who makes his living by tattooing people. Coming to o roar rnnm which is t.hfi Artist's WOrk shop, he produced from that place and laid on the table several queer-looking instruments, made by binding a number of fine needles together with a stick half as long as a penholder and about the same size for handles. The points "were so arranged that while they were in line they nevertheless protruded different distances out of the stick. I "VT/-?Ttr " ooi/1 tVio taf+rwior " whpn T am about to tattoo a person I first sketch the whole or a part of the design on his skin, and. then draw one of these tools along over the marks, having first dipped the needles in a solution of India ink. Of course I open the skin, so that the fluid can rtn under it, between what is commonly called the outer and the inner skin. Why, when I saw you coming upstairs I thought you were a customer, sure." " Does the operation hurt ?" "Yes, it does hurt; but some people much more than others. JN ow, Here's my ten-year-old-boy (bringing that youngster into the foreground), he is tattooed, as you see, on his arms, and he hardly minded it a bit. As a rule, women are too ticklish to make the tattooing of them a pleasant or easy job. It smarts, though, in any case, and is by no means as pleasant an operation as getting a first class shave.' " Are the results of the introduction of the ink apt to be injurious to the system ?" " Xo. The work is commonly done slowly, and time is given?especially when the job is a big one?for the smart to pass away from one piece before a fresh one is touched. I never heard of any permanent bad effects from it, and don't believe there is any.' Pineapple Fiber. The pineapple is justly esteemed in Europe for its delicious aromatic flavor and when grown in this part of the world requires to be kept in hothouses. In the more sunny regions of the East and "West Indies, South America, Mexico and the Philippine islands, the pineapple grows in wild luxuriance. Yet, however widespread its fame as a table fruit, it is doubtful whether many people know of the plant in connection with the textile fiber it produces. According to one practical authority, the leaves of both the wild and cultivated kinds yield fibers which, when spun, surpass in strength, fineness and luster those obtained from flax. It is further added that, in its manufactured state, this product has been long known as an article of commerce in the countries referred to. One of the leading trade papers of the German textile industry has given attention to the investigation of the properties of this fiber. From India and from Central America two specimens of tissues woven from licul hopn rorpivprl The former was a piece of striped muslin and tlie latter a sample of dress material in which the yarn had been bleached, thus showing that the fiber is capable of undergoing that process successfully. As to the uses to which the fiber can be put, it is asserted that it can be employed as a substitute for silk and as a material for mixing with wool and cotton. It is likewise stated that for sewing thread, twist, trimmings, laces, curtains and the like, its particular qualities render it specially applicable.?Chambers' Journal. A. Change Coming. A retail grocer in a village in the interior of the State remarked yesterday while in Detroit on business that a change in the method of advertising for customers would soon be put in practice in xases like his own. Instead of advertising sugar, coffee and tea " at lower prices than ever heard of in Slabtown before," his idea is to drop in something like this: ' During the winter my grocery will be the headquarters of every man in town who can point out the mistakes of this country for the past seventyfive years." He will have a fyll stock of canned fruits and jellies, but instead of advertising them directly, he will say: " Come down and sit on my counter and the heads of my sugar barrels and talk politics and teH each other what this country needs to make her great" He will have boneless codfish, dried beef and sugar cured hams, but he will call attention to them by saying: "One hundred old settlers wanted every night in the week to talk about the drought of '49, the panic of '57, the frosty summer of '42, and the warm winter of '08. Cushioned chairs reserved for the biggest liais." Instead of advertising his new stock of syrups or making any blow about his cider vinegar, lie will inform the public: " We talk horse. "We discuss religI ion. "We jaw over politics. "We revise the Constituion of the United States ! and run several of the departments of i government. "What we don't know ! you can't find out anywhere else. Come ! -iTir-i innf ana lie with us."?Detroit j Free Press. Bill Snort, a Texas journalist, was ! about to get into a car on the Central railroad, when the conductor, thinking the passenger might prefer the smokingI car. asked: "Do you smoke?" "Don't j care if I do," reaching out for the exI pected cigar.?Siftirws. - [ Captnred by Pirates. A story, which reads like a chapter 1 from one of Captain Marryatt's nauti! cal romances, came recently to Xew I York from the coast of Central Ameri ica in an official report received by j | Messrs. "Wm. Jex & Co., shipping meri chants. The schooner Transit is one of a i uamuei" ui vessels uwucu uj oc.v. tv Co. engaged in the Central and South American trade. She runs between various points on the Mosquito coast of Nicaragua, transporting general merchandise, which is taken from this country to Corn island by the steamer Mallard. The Transit is commanded by Captain John Thompson, an American mariner of experience, and has a crew consisting of two men and a cook. One dav the Transit lav at an chor in the Bay of Gracias-a-Dios, the extreme northeastern point of Nicaragua. The schooner lay three miles out from the town, but within the bar across the mouth of the harbor. In the dead of night, and when the captain was asleep in the cabin, and only one man was on watch, the schooner was silently, boarded by six pirates, who had stealthily approached the ship in two canoes, sheltered by the darkness. The marauders were armed to the teeth, and, having taken the Transit by surprise, were able to seize Captain Thompson and his three men ttltd <1 JJIjLCJL UUli The captain and crew were gagged and bound hand and foot, and the pirates took full possession of their pme, and ransacked the ship from stem to stern. The ship's company were thrown into the .hold, and the pirates then hoisted sail and endeavored to make the open sea, knowing that they could not hope to retain the capture" if they did not quickly get out of port before their daring deed was discovered. But the captain of the pirate crew did not know the harbor and was unable to get the ship over the bar. After maneuvring in vain for some little time he threatened Captain Thompson with death unless he piloted the vessel to sea. The captain consented to do so if he was released from the ropes which bound him hand and foot, and as he peremptorily refused to comply on any other terms the pirate chief was constrained to accept the condition. Captain Thompson was given the use of his limbs to navigate the Transit over the bar and out to sea. By this time the pirates thought themselves safe and were indiscreet enough to indulge liberally in the aguardiente of which the ship's locker contained a plentiful supply. The fiery stuff was partaken of to excess by all hands, and ~ ~ ~ ft /iAw/lifiAr; A-P SUULL 1/iIC piictLCS ?C1C 11X a wuvuuuu ui almost helpless drunkenness. Captain Thompson, was not the man to let this golden opportunity slip. Watching his chance he ran below, cut t!ie ropes which bound - the captive crew, and with their help quickly attacked the pirate band, subdued them and secured the whole six safely in irons. The course of the ship was then altered and she was headed for Blue Fields, 380 miles below Graciasa-Dios, the nearest point at which there was a United States consul. Arrived nere mesLx. pirates >vcic uaivcu. iuuuic . and surrendered to the authorities, and Captain Thompson returned to the port whence he had been compelled to sail so prematurely and under such sensational circumstances. The pirates were Spaniards and of the most desperate character. A Texas Coast Ranch. The editor of the Uvaide Hesperian has made a visit to the famous Xueces canon, including the Angora ranch of S. J. Arnold and brother. Ilere the canon widens out for a distance of seven miles?in fact it is the widest and most beautiful spot in the canon. These gentlemen own and control about 15,000 acres, embracing the rich ??/?n "Ma rir? VOJULCV2) \JL -JXa> CllV/IV UCCXV v/xx OXXO UWI/ and Ranch creek on the east, which are only miniature canons puttingin to the Nueces valley from either side, furnishing an abundance of grass and water the year round, and which is used as a summer range, while in Kinney county they have another ranch where they winter their sheep until after the lambing season, keeping the goats on the home ranch during the kidding season. Six years ago last July these gentlemen commenced with 875 goats and 1,400 head of sheep. Xow they have 4,000 of the former and 8,000 of the latter. Their losses in sheep will amount to about the same in money value as their purchases, while on the goat question they are $2,000 ahead of their losses, besides the increase. During this period their losses from disease and otherwise have not been over two per cent, on their goats. They run seven different flocks, which gave steady employment to seven herders, besides a viciero (who superintends the flocks), as well as extra hands to attend to vrwrlr s\y\ +V* Ck T r? vvvyxxx V/AJk Vliv JLli. UJLXV shearing, lambing and dipping seasons of course the number is greatly augmented. On this ranch the goats have been improved up by the best of thoroughbred billies, until the grades run from one-half to five-sixteenths. Last spring their goat clip amounted to 1,200 pounds, which -was sold in New York at an average of forty cents. We have often heard the question asked, What profit is there in goats? In common goats the profit Lies in the hides and tallow, which always command a good price, and the srmnlv of crnnri mpnt. in a sTiar>?> that will n?t spoil in warm weather before it can be used up.. By using Angora sires a flock can be graded up so high that the wool is more profitable than that of sheep, where the animal itself is hardier, more prolific and less expensive.?Galveston {Texas) News. The Question rroponnded. The pastor of a large churChfin Avondale, one of the suburbs of Cincinnati, recently determined to stimulate the zeal of his rather lukewarm congregation in a new way. He accordingly placed a box at a convenient point, and invited his people t<? drop into* it during the week questions upon anv^ubject which interested or preplexetj. them, promising to answer then- inquiries as best he was able at the Wednesday evening meetings. The night came, the questions were read, discussed and answered to the ; manifest pleasure and instruction of j those present. This exercise was re: peated on several successive "Wednes; day evenings, the questions showing a singularly thoughtful and intelligent i interest in spiritual subjects. At last, ! to the surprise of all, the pastor an[ nounced that the exercises would be : discontinued. lie then went on to ; explain tnat tne inquiries naci au oeen j propounded by himself, no member of the congregation having placed a single question in the box. In Great Britain there are forty sheep on every 100 acres, or three sheep on every four acres of cultivated land, excluding heath and mountain. Xot< withstanding the immense area in the L mted states adapted for sheep husbandry we have an average of but one i sheep on thirty-four acres. ; Y ' ? . * jj' - - * * ' ^ - -s - , " Help Me Across, Papa." There was anguish in the faces of those who bent over the little white bed, for they knew that baby May was drifting away from them, going out alone into the dark voyage where so many have been-wrested from loving hands, and as they tried in vain to keep her, or even to smooth with their kind solicitude her last brief sorrows, they, too, experienced in the bitter hour of parting the pangs of death. They only hoped that she did not suffer now. The rings of golden hair lay inn nn<st.i'rrpd nn her white fore head; the roses were turned to lilies on her cheeks; the lovely violet eyes saw them not, but were upturned and fixed; the breath on the pale lips came and went, fluttered and seemed loth to leave its sweet prison. Oh, the awful, cruel strength of death, the weakness, the helplessness of love! They ^ho loved her better than life could not lift a hand to avert the destroyer; they could only watch and wait until the end should come. Her merrv, ringing laugh would never again gladden their hearts; her little feet would make no more music as they ran pattering to meet them. Baby May was dying, and all the house was "darkened and hushed! Then it was as the shadows fell in denser waves about us, that she stirred ever so faintly, and our hearts gave a great bound as we thought, "She is better! She will live." Yes, she knew us; her eyes moved from one face to the other, with a dim, uncertain gaze! Oh! how good God was to give her back! How we could praise and bless Him all our lives! She lifted one dainty hand?cold?almost pulseless, but bet ter, better?we would nave it so?ana laid it on the rough, browned hand of the rugged man who sat nearest tp her. His eyelids were red with weeping, but now a smile lighted all his bronzed face like a rainbow as he felt the gentle pressure of his little daughter's hand?the mute, imploring touch, that meant a question. " What is it, darling?" he asked in broken tones of joy and thanksgiving. She could not speak, and so we raised her on the pretty lace pillow, and her wee white face shone in the twilight like a fair star, or a sweet woodland flower. VlOOTTTT ATTOQ flA kJlAC; i-L-Ll/^VX JJL\*ATJ %y v>w WV ? ..> eyes that even then had the glory and the promise of immortality in them, and reaching out her little wasted arms, said in her weary, flute-like voice: " Help me across, papaP' Then she was gone! We held to our breaking hearts the frail, beautiful shell, but she was far away, whither we dare not follow. She had crossed the dark river, and not alone. " Over the river the boatman pale Carried another, the household pet. "She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands * And fAArlAsslv entered the nhantom bark, "We felt it glide'from "the silver sands, And all our sunshine grewstrangeiy^larkj? Oh, Infinite Father! When -wc weary and disappointed ones reach out pleading hands to Thee, wilt Thou take us even as the little child, and help us across over the mountains oi defeat and the valleys of humiliation into the eternal rest of Thy presence, into the .green p astures and beside th< still waters, into the city of the KeAN Jerusalem, whose builder and make] is God?"?Detroit Free Press. A Frog's Digestiye Powers. J Tiie \V naiey isroiinersrecexinypxiiccv in their aquarium a large edible frog as a curiosity. That the monstei might not be lonesome among the golden carp and little turtles, a smalJ frog was placed in the tank to keep him company. The sequel proved not only that no love is lost among frogs, but also that a frog's stomach for digestive power is about equal to that oi an ostrich, which distills fat and 2 j royal plumage from a diet of rustj nails. One fine night the frog kept as a companion disappeared and then the turtles began to be missed. Five were sold from fifteen in the tank, but the stock of turtles steadily dwindled until only five remained. The turtles' shells measured on the average about two by two and one-half inches. Af the turtles disappeared the frog increased his rotundity, and his aldermanic proportions at last excited suspicion that the batrachian was swallowing his neighbors. A conference waj held and it was decided that the frog should be opened for the good of th( community in which he dwelt. The frog sat innocently blinking, but moved for no stay of proceedings while the knife was "being whetted for his dissection. He died without even squealing, and when his stomach was explored one turtle was found as lively as Jonah in the whale, waiting for some tiling to turn up. He had spent 2 niorht in snlitarv r.rmfin?np.nt and was well drugged. There were remnants of several turtles in the frog's stomach which showed that he was not wrongfully executed. The one saved hac been long enough in the frog tor the i digestive acids to work upon his shell [ which was soft and sloughing - of i along the edges. He was replaced ir j the tank, and now is known as th( I "Jonah" of the lot. He measures ! two and one-half by three inches across i the shell and is as lively as a cricket, | This investigation showed that a frog ; can digest turtle shell as well as meat "NTn more fro^rs will be favored with : such feeding grounds.?Norwich \ {Conn.) Bulletin. ? Three $5,000 Chandeliers. The work of taking down the thre( ! immense glass and silver chandeliers j in the East room of the White House ; and cleaning, repairing and putting I them in place, requires the constanl labor of four men for nearly twc weeks, about four days being allottee to each chandelier. The chandeliers, I said to be the finest of their kind ir : the country, originally cost $5,000 ? ; piece, or $15,000 for the three. Thej j were purcha^od by General Grant. Ai j works of art they are superb. There are in each chandelier about six thouj sand separate pieces of glass, mostlj 1 "V, Art nVi AWA f ; jjiiauiaui; xu oiiajjc, auu ca.^.u \jxxh \sx t/*x* ! six thousand cut and chiseled by slow ; handwork from the finest Bohemian 1 ware. tmm I Lordly Fan. ( An incident in the reckless career oi i>e marquis of Hastings is related by a traveler who chanced to be staying in the chief hotel at Sheffield, one j evening, when he and a few compan ions resojivea on wnau tney termed a ' lark." Their frolic took the tyrn of demolishing all the mirrors, chandeliers, pictures and furniture of two large drawing-rooms. "If ever I saw a madman," says the narrator, '*it was the marquis that night, as, with the j butt end of a heavy riding-wliip, he j frantically dashed out windows, ruined ! statuettes and vases Jid defaced book| eases and sideboards, shrieking the ; while like an incarnate demon. Then. j when he had done, he drew forth his ' check-book, signed a bank draft, and, ! with an oath, ordered the manager to pay himself for the damage done, ! which, I have no doubt, the manager ' did without omitting a single item." DfSEDE AS OPIUX PABLOB. Where Philadelphia Women Tof. FasMes .?? Smoke. Mrs. Kate Chisom is the proprietress of the only opium parlor in this city, says the Philadelphia Times. She re- - ^ sides in a small, unpretending brick *.f|| house on Mount Vernon street, a few doors from Tenth. A silver plate on , * ~ j the door bears her name, but there is no other indication that the house is inhabited. The green blinds are always kept closed, and the door is only opened for the patrons of the place, who silently come and go. Mrs. Chisom is a pale, refined-looking woman of about thirty-five years, and her appearance does not indicate a victim of the -wjaj opium habit. As far as could be seen, in a hasty inspection of the three rooms on the first floor the interior of tliA hraw is furnished with a luxury rarely attempted in a house of this kind. The walls are rich in gilding and decoration; on thenoors are heavy Turkish and Persian rugs, and statuettes, pictures and' bric-arbrac are scattered about in every direction. j " The rooms used for smoking are upstairs," said Mrs. Chisom yesterday,' "and of. course I cannot let you see; them ^-but you can judge by these thafcL no expense* has been spared in fitting up the house. I came to Philadelphia . \ on the 15th of last February, and l am ?1*^4- T A trawT ITAII <jUiW 2><Lti^ULCU. iilLdlt JL OiirTili uv f j u v?* # here. My customers are constantly increasing, and among them are some <rf the wealthiest ladies in the city." On being questioned about her antecedents Mrs. Chisom told a storyof an adventurous career. "Seventeen years ago," she said, "X marriecfca wealthy 'Southern . cottonplanter? He was the owner of a large plantation near New Orleans, and fortwo years I lived there happily. How did I begin to use opium? Well, it is the old story. I was island a Mend - -^??81 advised me to try it. I did, and ever ?: - since tnat day l nave oeenunaoiewoo . * without it My life became a burden. I neglected everything and could take interest in nothing connected with my home. I made several efforts to give up the habit, but I found it impossible, and after every attempt I began tak- ; , ing it in greater quantities than ever before. My husband died two "years after my marriage, and after his death I turned everything I had into money and went to live in New York. There I put myself under the care of a physician who advertised to cure-, the opium habit. He gave me coffee baths and brandy in large doses, but I used to elude him and get the drug and use it secretly. " It was in New York that I first learned to smoke opium. I was taken 1 ? r?' 3 Aft "_V uy a jxicuu uu <ui vpiu m youut w - - _ _ - j Eighteenth street, kept by a . French woman, called Madame Fanlan. Mans- - field, Montaland and other notorious women were regular patrons of her ^ ' place. No men were admitted, and > Ore rooms were fitted np with Oriental i- luxury. ' I often remained there s week at a time without seeing the outside world. Women prominent in society came ! there also, but, as a rule, they did not l smoke much; the novelty of th?j|jfin$ r alone seemed to attract them, jj^-soon r jM s became too- expensive con- jW r tinue to go there, for her chafes wer<T " : enormous. About this time the idea" -JJB of having a place of my own suggested itself to me. I had a number of friends and money enough left to furnish,-a* rj3| few rooms. So I opened an. opinm' L parlor on East Sixteenth street. My -32 ; place soon became popular.. Many of : ^ Madame Fanlan's customers came to '-'J s me, and my success was assured. I L would be there to-day-had it not been -'Jpj for the treachery of one whom I be- "'4 friended. , "Among the frequenters of the - '-M - French woman's place was a young . S : actress, then playing a leading part' in . i one of the New York theatres. She r was very beautiful and quite the rage * i among- the gilded youth who affect' > things theatrical She came originally, s I think, from England, and of all the; opium-takers I have ever seen she was I the worst. She was completely in- . > ' fatuated with it, and whenever she ; could escape from her duties at the . i theatre she would come to Madam. Fanlan's and smoke. A short time after I opened my place she came to - * ' me, broken in health and in abject poverty. I pitied her and took her in and _. < 5 gave her a home, but she proved an ^ ingrate, and I soon regretted my kindness to her. In order to obtain money she informed the husband3of some of my best patrons that their wives came to my house to smoke opium. Of *" course this greatly injiu^dinvJbusinftss . 1 in Xew York, but it taught me a les* son that I have not forgotten." . . * Mrs. Chisom claims that many of the frequenters cf her place on Mount Vernon street move in good society and reside in the fashionable quarters of the city, and she seems to consider herself a public benefactress in offering a quiet retreat to women victims of the opium habit, where they can indulge in safety and comfort. "Those " H , who are in any way known are stared F <-.+ o littla fVio nfhorc txtTipti first L OU a J-LUVAV KJJ W4V VVUV4W W ? t come," she naively remarked, "but they j do not seem to mind this, and are very > sociable with each other. They would 5 use opium any way, and they might . as well come to me as take it in theii \ own homes. During the winter . parties of three or four will often t come together. Actresses generally \ come in this way, remain two or three ? hours, and then "leave together." Mrs. Chisom refused to tell how much she charged these aristocratic opium-smos kers, but from her indirect allusions to ' coffee served every hour and carriages 5 constantly on hand her charges must ; be considerable. She rigorously ex> rind as t.hft stprner sex. savin that men ' do not interest the women who in| dulge in opium. [ Keeping Grapes. t In Europe a method of preserving r grapes is now very generally, followed! . , The cluster is cut with a piece of the ^ ! cane still attached, and the lower end . ' of the cane is inserted in the neck of a r bottle containing water. Grapes thus ; , treated are kept in a perfect manner |||i ' for a long time. The European journals have figured racks and other de- .-jy^ vices for holding the bottles, in such a | manner that they may sustain the I weight of the fruit, and also to allow " . S the clusters to hang free, and much as * I they would upon the vine. "We are not ; aware that this method has been tried ; with our native grapes. These, even at the holidays, when the price is the highest, sell for too little to make this : method profitable, but for home use . ^ the experiment seems to be worth trying.?American Agriculturist. The thirteen political dailies (morn1 ing and evening) of London have a 1 total circulation of upward of a mil- y.i. [ j lion copies. The sixty-one daily papers M > i of Paris are stated to circulate to the " j number of 1,500,000. In Berlin the --||| * ! circulation of political dailies is only ' Wb > j 200,000 per day, and at Vienna from 1 210,000 to 220,000 copies are registered as sold. London has over 4,000,000 in- 1 1 | habitants; Paris about 2,000,000; ! Berlin, 1,000,000; Vienna just under : that number. .