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WEEKLY EDITION _ " """ WiyXSBOEO. S. C., WEDNESDAY^ OCTOBER 25, 1882 ESTABLISHED IN 1844. Flash. THE TTBEMAX'S STOSY. f^ash was a -white-foot sorrel, an' run 01 No. 3: t Not much stable manners?an average horsi tosee:_ .Notional in nis m?tnoos?strong in loves an k. hates; Not very much respected or popular 'rnongs ggjk his mates. BL Dull an' moody sua' sleepy on "off" an Ifigp quiet days; Full of turb'lent sour looks, an' small sarcastic ways; Hp Scowled an' bit at his partner, an' bangec the stable floor? With other tricks intended to designate life a bore. But when, be't day or night time, he heard the alarm-bell rinsr. He'd rush for his place in the harness with a regular tiger spring: An' watch with nervous shivers the clasp of buckle an' band, L ^ Until it was plainly ev'dent he'd like to lend a hand. An' when the word was given, away he would rush an' tear, As if a thousan witches was rumplin up his hair, An' -wake his mate up crazy with his mag> netic charm; For every hoof-beat sounded a regular fire alarm! Never a horse a jockey would worship an' admire like Flash in front of his engine, a-racin' with a fire: Never a horse so lazy, so dawdlin' an' so slack As Flash npon his return trip, a-drawin' the f engine back. Now when the different horses gets tenderfooted an' old. They ain't no use in our business; so Flash was finally sold Tc craite a resectable milkman, who fonnd it not so fine A-bossin' of God's creatures outside o'their reg'lar line. Seems as if I could see Flash a-mopin' along here now, A-feelin' that he was simply assistant to a cow: But sometimes he'd imagine he heard the alarm-bell's din, An' jump an' rear for a minute before they could hold him in. An' once, in spite o' his master, he strolled in 'mon<rst us chaps. To talk with the other horses, of former fires, j>erhaps: Whoi-D'jf fnu mi!l-rr?or? Him * xrViortfifrir us boys to please, He begged that horse's pardon upon his bended knees. But one day. for a big lire as we was matin' a dash. Both o' the horses -we had on somewhat ret semblin' Flash, - Yellin' an' ringin' an' ru~hin', with excellent voice an' heart, We passed the poor old fellow, a-tuggin' j away at his cart. If ever I see an old horse grow upwards into a new, If ever I see a driver whose traps behind him flew, Twas that old horse, a-rompin' an' rushir' j down the track, An' that respectable milkman a-tryin' to i hold him back. Away he dashed like a cyclone for the head of No. 3, . Gained the lead, an' kept it, an' steered his % journey free: Dodgin' the wheels an' horses, an' still on j the keenest ;i silk," An' fumishin' all that district with good I respectable milk. * j . Crowds a-yellin' an' mnnin', and vainly { hollerin', " Whoa I" Milkman bracin' an' sawin', with never a i bit o' show; Firemen laughin' an' chucklin', and hollerin', ' " Good I go in I" Hoss a-settin' down to it, an' sweepin' along I _Fcome where the Sre was, halted.with j Bk. V>? - _ ^ TIisck " j i BE Seitt tfi(r~re>p6CtaDie iikikl:uhi iiw& over ; HMpL head in mud; j! ffifiT" Watched till he see the engine properly plf* workin' there? SiF After which he relinquished all interest in ^ the affair. Moped an' wilted an' dawdled?faded away j once more; Took np his old occ'pation of votin' life a bore; i r Laid down in his harness, and?sorry I am ; to say? ] The milkman he had drawn there drew his j dead body away. That's the whole o' my story: I've seen, j more'n once or twice, That poor dumb animals' actions are full of ; haman advice; An' if you ask what Flash taught, I simply j answer you, then, k That poor old horse was a symbol of some j intelligent men. ~ ^?Will W. Carleton, in Harper. A COUNTRY DOCTOR'S ADVENTURE, " And now we'll have a cozy, comfortable evening together," said my wife. "And? But what's that, Irving?" My wife started nervously as a sharp peal at the bell interrupted our brier I interval of domestic quiet. i ^ "Only the- surgery-bell, my dear; | somebody wanting me, I suppose." _ And I went downstairs, secretly 1 wondering to myself if, after all, there was such a very wide difference be-: tween a galley-slave and a country! doctor! The surgery-door stood wide open,! but nobodjf was there; and through | *>- the blinding darkness without I could : just discern the black outline of a close i . ? carriage and a man standing at the | t horse's head. "Who's there??what's wanting?" j I asked, coming to the threshold and i instinctively buttoning up ttie over-; coat I had hurriedly thrown on. "You're wanted, doctor," said the man. speaking indistinctly behind the ^ muffling that surrounded his face. "Yes; but what for? Who wants me?" "I am not at liberty to tell." I had already entered the carriage, but this suspicious answer inspired me with distrust. I made a step to t "* descend, but I was too late; the vehicle was already in motion. "It is quite unnecessary to alarm yourself, doctor," said a quiet, measured voice at my side. " Believe me, you are quite safe; and I trust you will not feel any uneasiness when I tell you that you must be blindfolded." t Aid at the same time a folded bandk* age was deftly slipped over my eyes. ^ " Hold!" I ejaculated. " It strikes me that is rather superfluous. The night it. dark as Erebus and you have no lamp." " Possibly," returned the dry voice; " but it is best to run no risks." And then ensued a silence of some WT^ i ten or fifteen minutes, while the carriage rolled swiftly along, and the * low, measured breathing of my unknown companion kept time to my own uncomfortable thoughts. rAt length my companion spoKc. again in the same soft, modulated | tones. " Doctor ! One more little precaution is necessary; your promise never to divulge to humn soul a word of this nighf s visit." I hesitated. " I cannot bind myself by any such covenant. The relations between physician and patient are of course confidential ; but? '* The carriage paused abruptly here and the door was swung open. At the " -? 1- - .3 same instant something com toucueu my temples?it was the muzzle of a pistol I recoiled in horror. * "You.surely would not murdei me?" " ^ "Your promise, doct " I promise I" I gas'pc.1, recoiling IPVl once more from the chilVng touch o! the cold steel at my tempos. X. " Very well. Come!" was led up a narrow walk, througl a doorway, into a room, where th< t bandage was removed suddenly frorr f my eyes. l; The spot was very familiar to me ?a ruinous cottage, long since 3 abandoned to decay, in the very heart , of dense, swampy woods. How the carriage had ever reached it I was t at a loss to know. Cpon a pile of straw, hurriedly thrown into the cor__ . ? A. I. 1J -rt i ' iitfi ui cue iiiuiueriiig noor, lay h prostrate figure, moaning at every breath. - Ilis face was conceided by a handker[ i chief, ajid the blood was slowly dripping from a gunshot wound just above t the ankle?a wound that had been | clumsily bandaged by some unskillful [ I hand. Moreover, there was a dark red j stain upon the straw where his head | lay, and his light-brown hair was mat ' ted with coagulated drops. Two or ; three men stood around with rude j masks of black cloth drawn over their J faces, in which three slits were cut for I the eyes and mouth, and a female figj ure knelt beside the heap of straw, | veiled very closely. : The men silen :ly made way for me ! as I advanced ini:o the apartment, and ; held their lanterns so that the lurid j light should fall full upon my strange j patient. As silently I stooped and exj amined both wounds. | "Well?" asked my carriage com! panion. | " I can do nothing. The man must j die." "Nonsense! A mere bullet through I the leg?what does that amount to?" : hurriedly gasped the man. " In itself, not much; but that blow j upon the skull must prove fataL" A low, suppressed cry broke from i the woman opposite; she tore the veil i from her face, as if she could not i breathe through its heavy folds, reveal! ing features as white and beautiful in j their marble agony as so much sculptured stone. She did not ! seem more tiian thirty, but i I afterward knew that she was i indeed ten years older. But in spite ! of her present anguish, how grandly I : beautiful she was! Large dark eyes? : hair like coiled gold, catching strange j gleams from the shifting lanterns?; and a broad, smooth brow?it was a : face you see but once in a whole life- j time. And yet. in the midst of her dis-1 tress, she never spoke. " At least you can do " something' | for him, doctor," said my interlocutor, j impatiently. " Don't let us waste time here." as l proceeded m my ministrations ; the morning grew fainter and fainter, j the convulsive movements became j scarcely perceptible. A,faint gleam of hope lighted up tiie face of the woman I who knelt with clasped hands opposite;; she looked appeallngly at me. " He is better?he is surely better?" j " lie will be better soon," I an- j swered, moved tc pity in spite of my self. " He cannot live half an hour j longer." The horror of that sepulchral silence , that fell upon us as my accents died ; away?shall I ever forget it ? And j1 five minutes afterward the breathing, j: spasmodic and painful to hear, died ;' into eternal stillness. The woman lifted the corner of the j' handkerchief and gazed into the j] ghastly face. It was that of a young 11 about t vro-and-t wentv" and 1' good-looking. * ' " Oh, heavens! he is dead!" 1 Her clear agonized voice was ring- ( ing in my ears as they led me .back into the darkness of the night. I felt 1 a bank note pressed into my hand as I ' entered the carriage once more. " Doctor, you have done your best; j it is not your fault that your efforts j have not been more successful. Re-1 member, you are pledged to secrecy!" The next moment I was whirling j swift.lv through the November mid- i night, with the strange, unquiet feel- i; ing of one wakened suddenly from a 1 startling dream. Yet it was no dream 1 ?alas! it was a startling reality. The carriage stopped at a cross-road 1 near the village. " Please to alight here, sir," said the ! driver. "You ..are not far from | home." I obeyed and stood listening in the | middle of the road, while the noise of : the carriage wheels died away, losing j its distinctness in the shriek of the' restless winds. And the clock in tne village church tolled out the hour of one. Late as it was, however, ray surgery was still open and lighted up; the servant from Haddenleigh hall had just i ridden up to the door. " If you please, "doctor, you are wanted immediately at the hall. The j colonel said you were to ride my horse . if yours was net already saddled, and I can walk, so there will be nT\ time lost." I mechanically mounted the noble animal that stood waiting for me and rode off, rather glad of an oppor 4-1,a ; tunny to revoive m m> iumu omgular adventure that had that evening befallen me. Iladdenleigh stocxl a little back from the road, on a magnificent knoll i crowned with century-old chestnuts j and beeches; and I reached the broad ' stone steps in about half an hour, by : dint of rapid riding. As I entered the vestibule Colonel! j Hadden, who had been pacing up and j down the hall in a perfect agony of | impatience, came to meet me. "Is that you, Doctor Meller? I I thought you never would come. We're j in a pretty state of confusion here! I Burglars in the house?my wife's set ; of diamonds gone?nobody knows j I "what else?but old Hopkins left his j j sign manual on one of the fellows. ! They must he caught; thev cannot j j escape far. For, you see?" . "Yes; but Colonel Iladden?" " Oh, ay?I understand you?you ' ! wan't to see your patient? It's Hopj kins, the butler; he got an ugly blow ! on the left arm?and afterward my I wife went herself for Doctor May! nurd?no offense, Meller, but lie lives ! nearer than y.m?but he was out. I Pi . svnl,* rr.tiirnrwl T ' Oiltj K/UI + JUOV i\.V.VU4iV\?. couldn't very well leave Hopkins !'?and Mrs. Hadden is such a kind, good soul, she insisted on going herself ! to fetch Mavnard?" "But, my dear sir?" "Ah, true! Come along t?. Hopkins' nm" Hopkins, the butler, was as voluble as his master, and ten times as circumstantial : and by the time 1 had set his broken fore arm 1 was pretty well in possession of all the particulars of the j attempted burglary at llacldenleigh. And thinking of my mainigm paueni. ; \yhose life ha?l eMv.I out up>n the pile ! of straw, 1 felt a Strang?* guiltiness a> ! j I listened to Colonel H:uiden*s eager i i conjectures as to the wheivabonts of [ | the desperadoes who had i j "And now, doctor, you'li take a glass j of wine," said the hospitable old 1 j gentleman, ushering me into his j library. It was brilliantly iignted ana warm :; with the crimson glow of a gonial tire. [; before which, in a singularly graceful ! attitude, sat a lady, wrapped in the j gorgeous folds of an Indian shawl. i [ 44 My wife, doctor. Isabel, my love, i j this is Doctor Melier." 11 We stood before one another ii silence. I could not speak, for I kneA ; that I was looking into the startlec ; agonized eyes of the woman who ha ; knelt scarcely an hour ago by th ' dying couch in the desolate cottage? ; Colonel Iladden's new wife, of whos beauty I liad heard so much. Tl.n toll-f.,1 r\n l.,,t T JL ilv V/ViWllUl tJilWU Mil, IL JL ucaii not a word that lie said. I could no but marvel at the wonderful self possession of the woman, who smilec j and looked grave, and said, " Yes " am "Xo " just in the right places. "To be sure," the colonel was say ing, as I woke into a sort of conscious I ness of his voice, " the loss of Isabel': diamonds is something serious, but o; ' course we shall recover them acrain Only, my love, it was rather eareles: of you to lerve them on th^ drawing ; room table." "It was careless," replied Mrs. Had: den, calmly. "Doctor, you are not ingoing? Colonel, you have forgotten j that curious old book you were want| ing to show Dr. Meller." j "I had entirely forgotten it," ejacu! lated the colonel. "I'll get it in half a minute, and you can take it home with 1 you, Meller." j As the door closed behind the honest i old centleman. Mrs. Hadden crlided un ) O - _______ 0 ?r ; to me and placed her cold hand on mine?it was like the touch of an icicle. . "Doctor, you have my secret?you surely will not betray it?" "I am pledged to silence, madame," I returned, coldly; "but the deceit?" "It is my fate, doctor." wailed the 1 woman, ''it is my fate. How I endure it I scarcely know; were I to pause and think, i should go mad. The man who died to-night \v;is my son ! Colonel Hadden knows nothing of my first marriage nor of this dreadful secret of my son's criminal life, that lias r\ i ciijucu mc uu wniui \ cai j>. \j\ ex uiiu over again I have thought to escape from it, but it lias followed upon my footsteps like a doom. To-night eposes that chapter of my life?oh, heaven! how dreadfully! But my secret is safe?the diamonds provided for that." "But your husband, Mrs. Iladden?" She covered her pallid, beautiful face with her hands. "I know what you would say, Dr. Meller. I love him and honor him beyond all men: but what can I do? Believe me, I have never willingly wronged or deceived him. I never dreamed of?of? " She paused abruptly. Colonel HadAt?r\ u'oc on for in rr raani on/1 f Ka V4VAI ? UO VUV/ A V/W1U, ti.UL.Kl. LUC smiling, casual remark she addressed to him tilled my heart with amazement ?almost admiration. I rode home to my blue-eyed little Eleanor, feeling, as I entered the snug j sitting-room, as if I were returning to ; the homely, happy atmosphere of every-' day life. But 1 never forgot the ter-: rible excitement, the feverish suspense ; of that November night. The desperadoes who had attempted ! to riflfi TT.-uldenlfiorh ball wprp npvpr 1 detected or taken; all trace of them : seemed to have vanished utterly out of | the earth. And were it not for the bank note | which had most liberally recompensed j my services, and the everlasting wit- j aess borne by Mrs. Iladden's lovely, startled face, I should almost have I sventroTtnat"marvelous 5'^aWr " midnight were the fragments of a Iream. This was my adventure?the first: unri l.-ist, that ever crossed the pathway j Df mv life. Tlie Ka? Trade of >"ew York. The amount paid for rags in Xew i i'ork city is said to reach $30,000,000 ' per annum, and a local commercial | paper, commenting on the figures, de-j i-lares that tiie trade is still in its infancy. It is expected that within the next decade it will have doubled. The rags are divided into two classes, woolen and cotton. The former are ; employed in making "shoddy" goods, | and are wortli from three to thirty-five ! cents a pound. They are gathered j nrinfinslcv in the Eastern and Western States, as the tariif prevents the im-1 portation of woolen cuttings from ! abroad. Cotton rags, on the other j hand, are duty free, and come from all i divisions of the globe. They are worth \ from one and a quarter to six cents per j pound. The business in this class i reaches $22,000,000 per annum, the j material being utilized in the manu- | facture of paper. A prominent dealer estimates the number of rag dealers in the city at 800, about a fifth of whom are extensive dealers. The general trade, however, is under the control of a few big dealers. The Italian pickers who go about with a bag on their back and a poker in their hand gather $750,000 worth of rags per annum. They have a monopoly of the "street pickings," having driven out the Irish and Germans, who years ago engaged in this cnov&rifror.iii-p indimfrw There are about 2,000 of these rag-pickers at work. The hand-cart dealers do a business that reaches the neat sum of $3,000,000 per annum. Last year the cotton-rag importations reached $10,000,000 in value. The industry is a progressive one and gives employment to many people in sorting and packing. The sorters are women, getting $5 a weekthe packers, men, getting from to $14 per week. The best cotton rags are obtained in this country, although the demands of trade are such that supplies have to be obtained from 1 o aoroaa. JL'roiu me uuuuu i <n& manufactured every grade of paper, from the finest writing to the commonest wrapping paper. The bulk of the trade in this style of rags is confined to the city, which absorbs all the traffic in woolen rags. It has required only twenty-five years to develop the rag trade from a mere nothing to its present ! dimensions, and fortunes are being i made by dealers.. Cotton Crop of the United States. i The annual statement of the Xa; tiona! Cotton exchange of the United l States for the sesison ending August ' 31, 1882. shows that the cotton crop ' of the United States was 5,456,048 ; bales, a falling oil' from the previous j season of 1,149,702 bales. The receipts : at the outports were 4,088,1-37 bales, i against 5,878,100 bales last year, : The exports were 3,551,075 bales, ; against 4,505,310 bales. The tot a] -roil ill. : (jmtiiLitN Muji^CTi viuicuiu iiui >u ret-t to Northern mills amounted tc 1,086,217 bales. Of this 510,002 bale? went direct to Eastern delivery ports, 4S9.170 to mills and 80,145 fron Southern outports to Eastern mills. ; Canada took overland 'J 1.547 bales, <u thirty-one per cent, more than last year The exports fo foreign ports aggrega^ ted 3,557,075. showing a falling off o1 1.014.241 bales. Northern spinners have taken of this crop (577,5S1 bales against 1.713,62(3 last year. The re markable feature of the statement i: the large increase in Southern con sumption/these mills having taken fron outposts and plantations 280,945 bales against 225,311 bales last year. Tin ! stock carried from this year's croj ! amounts to 155,582. bales, again* | 217,031 bal?s last year. a ! Farms and Farming in England. vj A correspondent of the Xew York I. j World, writing about English farm I j lands, says: Outside of the market e ; gardens of the Chinese in California, I - | never saw such perfect tilth. In some e | of the fields into which I strolled there | were little heaps of stones gathered to.11 gether, evidently for removal. This is f. 1 u fAinmnn <vn<?n<rh cir/lit in tlio T"nitc>r1 - J States, but I venture to say that no I i such stones as those have ever been II gathered up by any farmer in Amer ica, j I examined several heaps and there - j was not one pebble as large as a man's - clenched list to be seen. They were s | all small, from the size of a hickory f i nut to that of a small apple. The kind . j of cultivation of large lields which will > j embrace the picking up and removing -1 of stones the size of those is a kind of i cultivation of which nothing is known j in America. It argues at once an ; i amount of labor bestowed uoon 'ihe i! land and a cheapness of wage such as j we have no experience of, and it | may be taken as an indication of cultivation of a very high order. . j The plowing, too?for the summer . j plowing was going on tKon?was as ! regidar as though it was none by the : aid of parallel rulers. The plots of i black earth were as even as lines of squares upon a chess-board, and the deep shares and colters laid open the ground to the sunlight and air in a way ' flint" T novnr co?.r TUa /lAiiKla j Wit VU A UVV.A OC4. T? JLHV UWUUJ.^/ j and triple sulky-plows used in California, with the twelve or sixteen mules harnessed to them, cut deep furrows in the black soil, but when that scil is turned over it is as stiff as so much clay. In those English fields j the soil from the bottom of the furrow ; was as friable and light as that from i the top, and it looked more like gar! den mold than what is ordinarily j known as wheat land. Hundreds of | years of cultivation have done -their j work, and the English soil, or at least { such of it as I saw, has been by con tinued work turned into that of a garden. During my trip I had to stop for about two hours at a little wayside I country junction. I spent the time | talking to a farmer whose farm came i close down to the railroad. From what he said I found that the land in England is manured to the highest poini; known. That so far from being content with simply putting back into the land as much as is taken out, the aim of every farmer is to improve the land, to make it better.year by year. And as a matter of fact, in the ma jonty oi iarms, so i was loui, mis ena : is actually accomplished. Farms were ! known in which the yield within the j memory of man had been increased ! fifty, sixty and even seventy-five per j cent. This result is obtained not alone ! bv manuring, but by the system of j rotation of crops under which! the land, as far as pro- { during any one kind of crop j is concerned, is always given from two to three years' rest. The result of . this system, together with the constant > and plentiful manuring, is, as I have j said, to make the land better as the !, years go on. While there is, of course, i a limit to this kind of thing, what is worth pointing out is that the land of England has been of late years steadily \. .^ttin ? btftpn n$?rrth ' CTU^Jb, <tUU"cuo;vi.ci.n_aij.-> uuu^u and better return for the money in- j vested. It would be reasonable to suppose, then, that the cultivators of that iand would be better off than ever before, better able to pay their rents even were those rents, in view of the increased yield of the land, somewhat raised. But I saw another thing while looking out of the window of the car when the train stopped at a little wayside station. Eight men and a boy were building a stack of wheat, or, as they /.oil if in Vnorlnnrl n. rink-. The riek V.(IU iu XJUk ?. w.'is round anil four of the men were pitching the wheat up while the four on top were arranging it in place. The boy had a rake anil was gathering the scattered wheat into piles so that the men could get it on their forks. From the fact that there was not room on top of the rick for all four men to work at once, two would work while the other two stood idle. But two men idle on top of the rick made two men on the ground idle also. Here, then, were four men idle alternately, eight men doing the work of four. Yet those four idle men were earning wages, such as those wages may have been, and those wages ; were coming out of that land because i,.oe n/-> nflior n1nr?A fnr them to I tlJUX Aiv Vbiivk ; come from. The population of the i country or the proportion of agriculj tural laborers to the acreage was such that custom had made it imperative I to employ eight men to do the work of i four. It seems to me that this is taxing the land beyond what it will bear; that competition between a place where j I eight men are required to build a wheat ' ' rick .and such wheat fields as those ] seen in "Western America, where three | men, two pitching and one on the ! stack, is an impossibility. I _? ; Insuring an Apple Crop. ! j Singular modes are still taken to im! prove the apple crop in different parts of Great Britain. It is the custom to offer prayers in some countries; in others drinking and poetry are used; and in one district instrumental music is added. In the " Manuole in Hymn Larum," now in the vicarage library I of Marlborough, England, there were j two beautiful Latin prayers to be said j on St. James' and St. Christopher's I day (February 2S) in the orchards, when the trees were to be sprinkled with holy water. In Devonshire a bowl of toast and cider is taken out i-u^ AT./,i,or,i nn nVirittmns pvfi and lill/U LIIC Uiviiaxu uii ^ ~ a piece of toast put in the principal tree and verses repeated as follows: Apple tree We wassail thee To bear and to blow Apples enow. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! I In Somersetshire a similar custom ! prevails, but the poetry is extended to I fourteen lines; and in Sussex is a cusj torn called " blowing the trees," or j " wassailing," which is performed by ! nf Twiin rr in An blnwinrr COW*S I tl UUU1UC1 V/JL JV/UUjj 0 i horns under the apple trees, and each I i taking hold of a tree and repeating II verses a little different, but evidently j ol' the same origin as those repeated in 1 the other countries. The custom also ^; prevails in Xorniaiuly. > i i. Curious Operation. ?j Dr. II. L. Little, at Philadelphia, re,! cently performed a delicate operation i on a voun<r man, one of whose eyes had . been injured by sulphuric acid. It 'consisted in transplanting a piece of membrane from ;i rabbit's eye into the * i patient's eye. I)r. Little removed the I j eyelid from its firm adhesion to the >! ball and made it ready for the new , | piece of membrane, which Dr. L. W. -1 Fox, assisted by Dr. Hewson, had care>; fallv dissected from the left eye of the -! unconscious rabbit, and the part was 1 I rapidly transferred to the under sur. | face of the man's eyelid and neatly => ; trt itc 7->inr?p Another nnpra "> tion will be performed that will, it is t thought, restore sight to the injured i eye. - . -v:... National Food of the Mexicans. An article in the Century Magazine depicting scenes in astreet in the city of Mexico contains'l&eifolio'vviflg: As you approach the interior of tiie city at various places 33311 find " tortiller' ias" occupying baJ^hients on a level with the street. T4iis national com ' binalion or the grist-mill and the bakery holds such an important place 1 in the Mexican domestic economy that we may well afford time to examine a typical establishment with care. The tortilla is eaten by all classes through-, oat the n.ition, and it is almost the exclusive food of large numbers of the poorer people. I have met with it at the banquets of cabinet ministers and literary men, and the implements for its manufacture are invariably found irt the humblest native hut. Visitors to the Centennial will remember in the government building a large drawing of the interior of a Pueblo Indian house; this drawing, /with a very few variations, would represent the interior of a hundred thousand Indian homes, existing from the borders of Colorado to the State of Yu.-Mnn. Maize is everywhere; two-thii?*~. of the cultivated ground in Mexico is devoted to raising it. There is a -saying that there j are but two prerequisites for a house nolo, outfit by an In man couple contemplating matrimony: a petate, or mat of reeds, which serves for a carpet and a bed, and a jnetate, a flat inclined stone placed upon the earthen floor, on which to pulverize the corn before forming it into cakes for baking. I concur in the estimate of well informed natives, that so general and exclusive is the use of Indian corn, that, were this crop to fail, one-third to onehfJf the aboriginal population would perish of starvation. A single frost that, on the 29th of August, 1784, injured the young plant, it is calculated, ] resulted in the death of over 30,000 | persons. A population of millions is dependent upon the success of the crop. Ireland is not so dependent upon the potato, and millions in India scarcely so dependent upon rice, as the Mexican people are upon maize?now the foremost of our cereals, the monarch of our prairie lands and the arbiter of stock exchanges; it conceals from all who will trace its ancestry, from even the most persistent botanist, every clew to its native valley and to the form of its tropic progenitor. The tortilla-shop opens with wide doors upon the street; the citizen may stand upon the flags of the sidewalk, buy his cakes and not only obey the injunction of the elder Weller regarding veal-pie, but, while making the acquaintance of the chief cook, may see, examine, comment upon, and, if needs be, direct the whole process of manufacture. Imagine a blacksmith's shop from : which the Amazons have driven Vulcan, leaving only the grimy walls, the ' glowing, unchimneved heartli and a i store of charcoal piled in a corner. The Amazons have rolled back their i sleeves to the shoulder (if they possess ] such incumbrances) and have placed 1 themselves on their knees upon the i stone floor, with the inclined rough < surface of the lava vietate before them. 1 Upon this stone they place, from a ; wooden tray, handful 'after hnntlfnl nf < solution. This alkaline substance has i sof tened and loosened the exterior coat- i ing of the grain that in ordinary mills i produces the bran. With a long, round stone, held like a rolling-pin, this corn is rubbed to a coarse paste, which is pushed, as fast" as it is deemed suffi ciently crushed, upon a pine board ; placed below to receive it. This paste now goes to the cake-maker, who ' stands near the fire. She takes a small . piece, and, holding her hands ve rtically, J pa1;s it rapidly into a thin disk. This ' is thrown at once upon a hot earthen plate, where it is soon thoroughly baked [ or roasted. The tortillas thus made are collected hot into closely covered ' baskets, and are sold at three cents per ; dozen to the people who flock around, ready to carry them off in their hands ! or beneath pieces of protecting cloth. Enormous as is the aggregate of this manufacture, each shop is eminently a J T f 1\Q W T*/\_ rei.uxi auuir. x uutc acsivc^i jyiv. prietress of sucli an establishment how many tortillas she would sell for a dollar; she threw up her hands and eyes at the visionary immensity of the transaction, exclaiming: " Good Heaven! I could not count?a very great many !" The northern palate finds the tortilla, while fresh and hot, and if accompanied by a little butter or salt, a pleasant food, suggestive of cakes made of parched corn; but when cold it is flabby, tough and tasteless. There are many ways of serving it, but the Indian is usually content with a pinch of salt, or (I Li t LIC v/vi/i/v vmv red pepper. The Care of Canaries. The following directions are given in Soldens Bird Magazine for the care of canaries at this season: "To prevent diseases in birds use the best quality of seeds, clean, fresh water for drinking or bathing, coarse, flinty gravel, cuttle-bone and fresh green stuff. If these are supplemented by light, airy rooms, where the bird may ' ** have one or two nours ui suxmgm, iwn day, and regular attention, your bird, if fairly well bred, will be subject to few diseases. i "Long-breed canaries, either Manchester or those from Antwerp, should have such care as to be kept in prime , order during the fall aid early winter months. This is more essen. tial in regard to the birds named since ' they breed very early in the year, com' mencing six to eight weeks earlier than I the short breeds. Their food should always include a small quantity of hemp-seed daily, and from the middle of October to January birds should have a quarter part of the yolk and white of a hard-boiled egg-mixed with i a little cracker-dust two or three times ! a week. After the first of January ! the quantity of egg may be increased ! and given daily, and a thimbleful of j hemp or more, if the bird seems to re; quire it, should be offered in addition i to the regular allowance of rape, can| arv and millet seeds. Of course it is i understood a bird should have some green stuff at least as frequently as j every other day. ! " The cage in wliich a bird is conj fined should be adapted to the habits i and disposition of its occupant. A j canary will appear very restless sometimes in a round cage, flying to the top and stretching his head backward until i he drops to the bottom. This trick , soon becomes a habit, the bird soon I ceases to sing, and the time is occupied j j in nervous, aimless fluttering.* that ren; tier the bird nearly worthless and drive his owner to distraction. Usually if ! such a bird is put into a ca^e of difi ferent pattern before the trick becomes i a confirmed habit'he will be cured ani' ; sing as well as ever." j To the above may be added that an excellent supply of green food may be j procured during/he winter by sowing j a little lettuce, dess and mustard seed i j in a shallow box kept in the kitchen | i window or in alight cellar and water-! ' ing it frequently with warm water. 1 f 4 i * . t COMETS. Some Facts of Interest Concerning: These Erratic Heavenly Visitors. A great comet visible to all the world is one of the most striking and startling of celestial apparitions; a new star is in rfalitv* a miifli rnr*?r and n much more surprising object. But those who can recognize a new star outside the circle of practical astronI omers are few indeed. Moreover, as new stars are but rarely of the first magnitude and appear at intervals of centuries, no superstition, even in the nounsmng clays or astrology, nas ever attached to them. That a sun once invisible or rarely visible to terrestrial eyes should suddenly become a striking astronomical object is the most strange and amazing of all. scientific facts to those few who understand its meaning, j The stars, of course, are suns, and in all j probability each of them has its own circle of planets. For all A*e know each of them may have dependent upon ]i worms peopiea oy creatures equal to or superior to them, creatures whose fate, even if we could understand to know it, would excite our j keenest sympathies. Xow the change ! implied by the appearance of a so- j called star to the worlds dependent [ upon it, and to all their inhabitants, j must be in the last degree terrible. It j is as if our sun had suddenly to blaze j out ten or a hundred times as large, j and as bright and hot as now. It is scarcely necessary to say that j such an occurrence would neither be remembered nor recorded, for no life organized umler the existing con aitions 01 life ijf any one of the planets of which the amount of solar light and heat is the most important element could survive such a change for twenty-four hours. Even supposing i that the increase of heat and light is j much more gradual than it seems to j telescopic observers on such occasions, | an addition even of one-fourth to the j total heat emitted by the sun would | probably destroy all the higher forms j of animal nature. The total heat re-! ceived from the sun must not, of j course, be measured by the nominal i scale of the thermometer. Zero repre- j 4-V. - 11? ! ociits <ui tiiuuuiiu ul >Ycumtu pittUUUcUij ; derived in its entirety from the sun, i compared with which the difference ' between zero and tropical sun heat is ' trivial. It is supposed that if the heat of the sun were absolutely withdrawn the temperature of our Atmosphere 1 would fall to more than 200 degrees 1 below Fahrenheit, a cold which, it is : needless to say, no life could endure 1 for many hours. Similarly, an increase j: of the total li^at rpreiveri from the < sun, though merely in the proportion j ^ of four to three, would produce a tern-1 * perature of which no earthly life has j1 had any experience. It would raise a 1 summer temperature of sixty degrees * Fahrenheit to at least 150 degrees I Fahrenheit. Were the sun's heat ^ doubled to-morrow we should be exposed to a heat of over 500 degrees? 3 that is to say, a heat sufficient to melt * lead and to convert all the waters on [ c the earth's surface into steam. The I revolution implied by the appearance * sf a new or the sudden brilliancy of a J * 'aint star is infinitely greater than this,'s md means nothing less than the total! a lftsirmion nr htp on .111 t.hP<-iPr?>nr</ ? u nation even of astronomers, and are ^ low regarded by the public with utter ndifference.?London Post. 1 \ f Training Shepherd Dogs. Darwin thus describes the training r )f sliepherd dogs: When walking it is ? 1 common thing to meet a flock of \ sheep at a distance guarded by one or ? two dogs, at a distance of some miles j from any house or man. I often won-1 ? 3er how so firm a friendship had been j c established. The method of education j consists in separating the puppy while ' c very young from its mother and in ac-! ] rMistoniinor it to its future companions, j f A ewe is held three or four times a day j j for the little thing to suck, and a nest j ^ of wool is made for it in the sheep ; i pen. At no time is it allowed to j ] associate with other dogs, or with the ; i children of the family. From this j t education it has no wish to leave the j t Hock, and just as another dog will de- j j fend his master man, so will this dog j i defend sheep. It is amusing to ob-1 j serve, when approaching a flock, how : i the dog immediately advances barking j ( and the sheep all close in his rear, as : ] if around the oldest ram. These dogs j are also easily taught to bring home j j the sheep at a certain hour in the : j ! -rvintst t T*r>l 1 111 dCOin p j J evening. xncu mwv i , thought when young is their desire to i. play with the sheep, for in their sport they sometimes gallop the poor tilings ] unmercifully. 3 The shepherd dog comes to the house 1 every day for his meat, and as soon as it is given him skulks away as if ashamed of himself. On these occasions the house dogs are very tyrannical, and the least of them will attack < and pursue the stranger. The minute,: however, the latter has reached the : ' ? ? . ?wl r-> A tn I HOCK lie turns ruuuu auu wijiu^ bark, then all the house dogs take i quickly to their heels. In a similar j manner a whole pack of hungry wild j dogs will scarcely ever venture to at- j tack a flock guarded by one of these i faithful shepherds. In this case the j shepherd dog seems to regard the sheep i as his fellow brethren, and thus gains j confidence; and the wild dogs, though j knowing that'Sie sheep are not dogs, j but are good to eat, yet when seeing j them in a flock with a shepherd dog | at their head, partly consent to regard I them as he does. "When They l>ie. There are two popular notions about; death that, though they contradict one ' another, have adherents throughout: Christendom. One is that what is j called a natural death takes place: with the ebb of the tide; the other i that it occurs after midnight, in what : are called the small hours before | dawn. The records show, as might have been expected, that the Black; Rider, who respects neither age nor I ----l.-i* ! worldly condition, is miuucicuu m; timing his visits. In this city hast? week the greatest number of deaths took place at 11 o'clock in the day, when there were seven;but there were live deaths in each of the hours of 3, 4, 7 and 10 o'clock in the morning, and 3,' ? and 7 o'clock in the evening. Pour i persons died at 5 o'clock. 0 o'clock and i q nV-wir in the morninsr and at 1 | o'clock and 6 o'clock in the evening,! and three persons died at each of the : hours of 1 and 2 a. m., and at 8, 10 , and 11 m. There happened to be no ! deaths at 5 o'clock in the evening. : There were ten more deaths before! noon than after it. More than half of those who died were children under five. Hotels were ! ? ?--- <?ii... ! th6 SCCI16S 01 1611 j.iwuhuivuo, 120; tenements, 409. Only one death on the sixth floor of a house is recorded, though there were 179 on the second floors. The death rate is put at 29.71 in 1,000, but the board of health estimates the population at 1,284,524, I which is, according to popular belief, a quarter of a million less than the acI tual number of people in the city.? j.Yew York Hun. CALDRONS OF SIX. ! The Rev Dr. Talumsre on the Poisonous In| fluences ia Life-?Four Ways of Acquiring Dloncy. i Long lines of street cars wait on i Sunday morning in the neighborhood ! of the Brooklyn Tabernacle to take ! home those who have "been to hear i fa Image, and seldom does it happen : that there are seats enough in the I great Tabernacle to accommodate all who go there. '"Yesterday tb' ^react Tinvited those standing to sit on the steps in the aisles, making themselves : as comfortable as circumstances would permit. After the singing of "Hold ; the Fort," in which the voices of the i vast congregation were led by organ : and cornet. Dr. Talmage announced his text, II. Kin^s, iv., 40. Elisha had i gone to lecture, said he, to some stu| dents at Gilgal. But it happened that the students were hungry?students ! often are?and ElTStra knew that there j was no use lecturing to or trying to | argue with hungry men. Christ, in the wilderness, knew that. lie gave the people a sermon and some loaves, but which did he give them first ? The loaves?the bread of this life first and that of another life afterward. It so happened that in gathering the herbs for the dinner that Elisha gave to the students some poisonous weeds were included, and when one of the hungry students who began to eat recognized the presence of poison, he exclaimed: " 0, man of God, there is death in the pot!" They could not eat of it. There are caldrons of sin in the ! world wherein the poison is boiling. A few men eat from them, reject the poisonous part and manage to live; other men eat and die. The world is filled with the poison of sin, but blessed be God who has given us Jesus Christ for an antitode. I persuaded you last Sabbath to be more charitable in your judgments of the fallen; but I said then and I repeat it now, that while we may pity the sinner we must not forget to condemn the sin. Sin is a jagged thing and must be roughly handled. You can't catch buffalo with a silken lasso. mere is a new settlement in a wiiu country, and one day a beast comes down from the mountains and carries off a child. The next day another beast comes down and carries offsanother child, and then all the men in , that settlement get together and with ] torches in one hand and guns in the < other they find those beasts in their < saverns and kill them. So we should < follow sin right to its caverns, with [ the torch of Christ in one hand and the i ] sword of the Eternal Spirit in the < 3ther, and we should destroy it. Oh, j low much the influences of home have ( ;o do with a man's ability to contend jivith temptation! There are parents c tvho even make religion disgusting to g ;heir children. They have an exas- c aerating way of doing their duty, h Soys go forth from such homes to die. r father and mothers, which way are ^ 'ou leading your children? A man's ^ louse took fire and he managed to jet out his furniture and his t >aintings and his papers, hut le forgot his children un- * il it was too late. When the earth g hall be on fire, when the mountains ^ ,nd the seas shall burn, will your chil- j v 'Do you believe in the saying, Bring 0 ip a child in the way he should go and 1; vhen he grows old he will not depart ^ remit?" "Certainly I do." "Well, e iow do you reconcile that with the p * , . /? i T->:n ascaliy conduct or your uoy. jdiu r You put the accent 011 the wrong j \'ord." replied the doctor. "When he rrows old?but Bill is not old yet." ^ Ind I want to say to all of you who t tave wandering children?they are not a ild yet. An indolent life is another caldron s if sin. Boys come to the city to begin r ife and they see men hang around the 11 ashionable hotels, dress well, *have I j >lenty and do no work. "Why should j g ve work?" say the beginners. These c ndolent men hang around the City ^ lall with toothpicks in their mouths 1 vaitingfor crumbs to fall from the , ;auie 01 <-ui uiiia-nujuci. t?uuc I c ;hey get their money? There are only \ 'our ways of getting money?by in- j s jeriting it, by earning it, by begging j * t and by stealing it. These men do j * lot inherit it, nor earn it, nor beg it. j j [Laughter.) I don't like to take the ' ^ responsibility of saying how they get | j t. The army of people who are try-I j ng to live by their wits is all the time ! ^ ncreasing. Iloratius was given all j j ;he land that lie could plow around in , i day. And let me tell you that you 5 will have just so much wealth, just so ^ much honor and just so much happi- j ^ aess as you can plow around in your . lifetime?no more.?New York Herald. , In the Early Days. * : The following were some of the judicial sentences in the early days of the colony: Josiah Plaistowe, for stealing four baskets of corn from the Indians, was ordered to return eight : baskets to them, to be fined five pounds, and hereafter to be called by the name | of Josiah, and not Mr., as he formerly ! used to be. Captain istone, for abusing j Mr. Ludlow, and calling him "Justass," ' was lined a hundred pounds, and forbidden to come within the patent without the governor's permission upon pain of death. Sergeant Perkins, for being : drunk, was ordered to carry forty turfs to the fort. Captain Lovel was admonished to take heed of light carriage. Thomas Petit, for being sus - - 1- ... pecteu 01 siauuei, luieuws ?,nu. oiuir | bornness was sentenced to be severely j whipped and kept in hold. Daniel' Clark was found to be an immoderate j drinker, and was lined forty shillings. John AVedgewood was set in the stocks for having been in the company of drunkards. Bobert Shorthose, for swearing by the blood of God, was sentenced to have his tongue put into a cleft stick, and to stand thus for the ! space of half an hour. Home of the First Piano. Milton is a picturesque little village, less than a score of miles from Boston. Here is the old house where : the first American piano was made by j Benjamin Crehore, about A. D. 1800. ! ' - - -1?? i liait-mauen uy me ut*i^c | and branching trees I found it. and as j I wandered through the quaint little' rooms I tried to picture to mv mind : the scene when the lirst American i piano was completed. I thought of j the solitary workman, piece by piece, | building the instrument which should j within half a centurv live a^ain in the i O j most elaborate handiwork ot man. I thought of the solid stuff in that ! piano; of tiie honesty of its construc-j - c -n-W'O A+' if-j rn'iL-or hp lion; ui lucpmc vi. completed each step in its progress. And I let my mind run back for a moment to the great city, where hundreds of pianos are finished daily; where thousands of men are polishing j pine for rosewood; where imitation passes for ivory; where stencils tell j their standing lies in a thousand gild-1 ed linos; where gaudy trash, made in : all sorts of ways, does duty for real merit?and I am l'rce to confess, I like i the old !?New York Musical People. ! AMID S>W DRIFTS OF ALASKA. | An American Signal Officer's Experience--: I/ife in Arctic lte?ions Not so Terrible as j Generally Pictured. In a private letter to his brother, Mr f Charles Ray, of Milwaukee, Mr. P. W. i Kay, in charge of the United States ; signal station at Oogloannie, Alaska, ; writes that he has his flag, as a signal j officer, flying farther north than it has ! ever been borne on the American conI inent, a locality where the inhabitants I dress in deerskins eight months of the j year, and the official distinction of an j officer is marked by a wolverine's tail worn on the back of his "Ahlega," or jlui coax. - me year nas passea very quickly with us," continues Mr. Ray. " My party lias had all they could attend to in making the required observations, and I have been kept busy picking up the threads of ray new life, and taking up the practical use of scientific instruments and in conducting an expedition like this to comply with the requirements laid down by the Vienna congress. " We had a rough time in establishing ourselves here, for beside a late start ?rom San Francisco, we met with bad weather both in the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, and were fifty-two days on the voyage. Winter had already set in when we arrived, thin ice had formed on the inlets and along the shore, which warned us that we had no time to lose if we would save the ship, for ordinarily the sea is closed at the date on which we landed, so I discharged the vessel the day the last of our cargo was ashore. As I watched her sails fade away in the distance and turned to my work, I must confess that it did look just a little gloomy. My rr*A>?n o/inff ama^I A1AM? T--" otv/ito Ituc 3(,aucicu (UWUg LUC UCitCU for 500 yards, just out of the surf, where they had been landed from the native canoes and our whaleboats. The natives swarmed around, whose reputations were none too good, two lone j tents on a low, bleak point of land, and over it all a drifting snow-storm completed the picture of desolation. With the exception of one man of the nine that composed our party, they were totally inexperienced in the ways of the savage, or of frontier life, and some of them had never had a rifle in their hands. Taking in consideration the fact that we had a house :o build and 160 tons of freight to be stored therein, carried by hand, the outlook was anything but cheerful. I settled with the natives first by judiciously punching the heads of the first [ caught stealing, and hiring the best >f them to help carry the stores. We lad our house completed by October 1, mr*instruments in position and were aking observations November 1, but >ur house did not dry until the following lUmmer, the lumber of which it was instructed being coated with ice. Chere were a great many nights that I lid not sleep, and my hair has grown rery white, but I feel better than for rears. " Life in the Arctic regions is not so errible as some men have tried to >aint it, and America has had too nany explorers who were seeking for elf-glorification rather than bottom acts. I hope that the next few years rill demonstrate the fact that it was gSTiHHgf1 Cxfmalc"" ne of our party has been sick since we anded, with all their exposure, and I lelieve any party can have the same xperience if they observe proper dis. r,. _ j j| j. j.i ? o lpiine ana conauci menisci vca m ?. j >roper manner. I think we will see .884 safe and sound, and return to the j Jnited States with our records, of j vhich I keep two copies and send one \ o Washington every year in case of iccident. " Aside from its healthfulness, I can ay nothing for this country. It is the Dost desolate piece of God's foot-stool hat I ever saw. It lies very low? >ut a few feet above the level of the ea?is covered with a dense growth >f moss, and as far as I have been in he interior, about 100 miles, the whole i egion is one great network of lakes j ind rivers. The frost comes out of the | ground only to the depth of about a J :oot in the summer, so that at that j ;eason it very much resembles a Wis- J :onsin cranberry marsh, except that j ;here is an utter absence of trees and j juslies of every description. In the j vinter we are north of the line of ani- j nal life on the land, and only seal exist ! n the sea. The temperature last win;er sank twice below sixty-five degrees j n the the open air. I have some doubts j ibout the correctness of the instru- ! nents used by some explorers that give ; :he very J.ow temperature reported of i from seventy to eighty-degrees, for ! from what I have experienced I believe ; such a temperature would be fatal to ! animal life exposed to it, as it must | aecessarilv be in making an observaJ ? -1 tion." Goat's Milk in London. One of the most picturesque sights in the squalid back streets which lie between Leicester square and Lincoln's Inn fields is the goal-herd going on his daily rounds. There is something exceedingly primitive and even romantic in the spectacle. The French peas ant who owns the small flock of goats which supply many families with their morning's milk saunters slowly behind his docile herd. They know the round as well as their owner, and pick their way across the network of streets with the utmost familiarity ; nor do they neglect to pick up any vegetable garbage that may be lying across their path. Tin. 1,^ nnorc tlio Vmnco nf ft fMlst'/MYlM' >Y JLLUi-L HO UCaic i/iiu uvus^v v*. v? vMwvo^?v. the goatherd plays on a pipe, supposed to resemble that of the mythological Pan, a pleasing and even poetic substitute for the melancholy howl of the native milkman. When the order is given the goats halt before the door, a pennyworth of milk is drawn off into a tiny measure, nearly a score of which barely fill a quart. While one goat is being milked *1-" ot-r,n^ )w nihh'ino- st.riiv r:ih bliC UHICIO Otti.lJ.VA *JJ i.?M.vs J . bage leaves or eagerly eating the crusts of bread which children bring to them from their mothers' tables. The milking over, the herd moves on to make another halt where another pennyworth is required, when the process is repeated. The procession is again resumed, and kept up until the end of the walk is reached or the goats are dry. It is a curiously Arcadian custom to exist in the heart of London, and it may be doubted whether one Londoner in a hundred has ever heard of the existence of a wandering goat?.3 ?j i.:? neru ctiiu nu uucuicui nvyvi?. A Serpentine Child. Two years ago, says a Pineville (Ga.) correspondent of the Columbus Times, a negro killed a rattlesnake and put it in a pan over the fire to fry for its grease. lie then went to the field to ?1. ,??wl lof<vr in tho rlav hi<i litt.lp Y> Ui l\, anu. iuu i iu wwv V4w#. two-year-old child, becoming hungry, ate of the reptile, thinking it an eeL Since then the child has been subject to violent spasms, during which it acts as if it had partaken of the nature of the snake. ; It is odd?but a horse-car is neTei i loaded until after it goes off. - A. TERRIBLE DEATH. A Polish Poet and Patriot Slain by Seven Thousand Blows. Apropos of the condemnations to Siberia, so numerous of late years, it will interest our readers to remember how Eussia punished the authors of ori^ famous conspiracy in that hideous colony. Sierocinski, the illustrious - Polish poet, with three comrades, had formed a project to excite a vast revolt and escape. The mutineers, many of whom belonged to the army, were to fight their way to India, where they would find liberty and safety. The plot was betrayed by some infamous rascal. At last, in 1837, the horrible sentence came from St. Petersburg. ouvci<ti x uitrs huu ixusMcms were condemned to receive seven thousand blows, without mercy, without the omission of one; the rest were to receive three thousand, which are sufficient to kilL General Gatafiejeff had been sent on expressly to superintend the execution of the sentence. His ferocity made even the Russians indignant. At daybreak two full battalions, each consisting of one thousand men? so that the blows could be more easily - - ? ??4... j j uuuuieu?wcxeurawu up xu une uaw side the city. Gatafiejeff took his place in the center. Sticks were substituted for rods and the soldiers were placed close together, that the blows might - V"-J< be better laid on. It was very cold?March in Siberia! Sierocinski was stripped. He was tied ' -f. T% to the barrel of a ride, with the bayonet pressing against his chest, according to custom. Then two soldiers led iuiu uttn ccu LIIC lauAo WJL tuc ouiuicio at a regular pace, so that he could advance neither too quickly nor too slowly. Then the regimental physician advanced to strengthen the victim with a few drops of liquor, for his feeble -||j constitution had been exhausted by three months of prison, and he seemed rather a shadow than a man; but he had preserved all his strength of soul and force of wilL He turned away his head when the doctor presented the stimulant, and replied, "Drink your blood and my own; I have no need of your drops." Then when the signal was given he repeated the Miserere aloud. Gatafiejeff shouted three times with fury, "Strike harder ! strike harder! strike harder!" The blows were so furious that when he . ; J had passed once between the ranks, after having received a thousand blows upon arriving at the other end of the battalion he fell upon the snow, covered with blood and fainted. They tried to make him stand up again, but he could not keep himself upon his feet. A little framework was ready, upon a sledge. Sierocinski was placed upon it on his knees, with his hands tied behind him and his body bent forward. Thus all movement was im- J? possible, as he was fastened upon the sledge. Then they recommenced to draff him between the ranks. Gatafie jeff continued to shout: "Harder! harder!" At first sierocinski con- 5* tinued to utter groans wrested : from him by agony. These became weaker and weaker, and at last ceased together. After having received four thousand blows he still - : '"'jM JBtonnDRdHtt tims, especiahy he, were so worn out with blows, that according to the testimony of eye-witnesses (Poles and Russians) with whom I have spoken, shreds of flesh were scattered in the air at every blow?nothing but broken bones could be seen at last. The Poles were afterward allowed * ? AUA V"atv?T% Af to pjace a cross upuu wc i/vmu martyrs; and that tall cross of black wood* remains, rising above the steppe, extending its protecting arms above the grave of the victims as though imploring the mercy of God. Learning a Lesson. These were the lines read by him in the sanctum. The horse editor was the listener: Meet me in the glen, dear, "Where the moonlight bright On the nodding daisies m Casts its silvery light. Plnck for me a flower? vjgsB Twine it in your hair? . ; ' I shall know yon love me If I see it there. "How do you like it?" asked the poet as he finished the reading. " Ou. it's good enough, I suppose," was the reply, "but we've got too much daisy a:id glen poetry on hand now. And then all that kind of verse is only a sort of literary bran-mash, after alL x~? ? ~ TT-;+V. o liood o<t hior as a i\UWt 11 u man vtitu o uvuv4 vw pin would go around asking girls to meet him in a glen when the moon is x up. That's no way to act if you really tvant to lasso the affections of an innocent maiden, because when a girl has eaten a good sqnare supper she -'jf doesn't feel like tramping around in a glen and picking flowers to stick in I her hair. Any such scheme as that would rumple up her bangs too much, ^ and like as not tear her invisible net. And then there ain't any glens around Chicago ? glens flourish b"st where the cows go to> sle p on the sidewalk, so you can fall over them when you come home late. Xow, I suppose this poem 01 yours was intended for the eye of some particular young lady, some Cook county* Juliet, whose papa keeps a soulless dog that declines to share the front yard with you. Isn't that about the size of it?" and the horse reporter winked vigorously at the poet. ""Well, yes; that is?" "Oh, I know all . about it," interrupted St. Julien's friend. "You are a little bashful about it?a kind of Eighteenth ward maidenly reserve. TV ell, that's a credit to you?I would give ?7 if I could 1 lush like that. But you are on the wrong track. Quit writing to this girl about glens and moonlight and roses. If you must express your sentiment in verse, whoop up a chauson in a style she can understand; something like this, for instance: Meet me on the corner, Where they sell ice-cream, Life shall be for yon, love, Like a blissful dream. Cling to me, my darling, . ^ As vine hugs the oak, And when you're done eating I shall be dead broke. "Xow, that ought to land her," said the horse reporter, "because, as a rule, girls are very partial to pathos. and ice-cream mixed?you can bet on that." " Can I ?" said the poet. " That's tiif daisy rtiCKet to catcci a gin, saia the horse reporter, in cheery tones. j ? Love and shady glens are ali right, j but when it comes down to business I ; want a pool on the young man that . buys ice-cream."?Chicago Tribune. S** The completion of the iron bridge of the Atlantic and Pacific railway, over the canon Diablo, in Arizona, . ~Ji another to the list of high bridges. It : pans a dark, gloomy gorge so2::e _"0 l'eet. The bridge is240 feet above t wat-r. 541 feet long, weighs &$/,It is supposed that Adam set the -Zzzk | earliest winter fashion since the only co:it he wore was a bare skin. j mm 11