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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S • 0.. MARCH 8. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 THE BIONS Or i'ELB SEASON*. What does it mean when the bluebird flies over the hill, singing sweet and clearly 7 When violets peer thro’ the blades of grass? These are the signs that the Spring is here. What does It mean when the berries are riper When butterflies flit and honey-bees bum ? When cattle stand under the shady trees ? These are the signs that Summer has oome. What does It mean when the crickets ohirp? Xnd away to; he south-land the wild geese steer? When apples are falling and nuts are brown? These are the signs that Autumn la here. What does It mean when the days are short ? When the ieavea are gone and the brooks are dumb? When the Helds are white with the drifting snows? These are the signs that Winte. has come. The old stars set and the new ones rise, And skies that were stormy grow bright and clear, And so the beautiful, wonderful signs Oo round and round with the changing year. GERARD UANGTON’S SECRET. It was in a luxuriously furnished room where a glowing grate threw ge nial light and w&rmth upon the occu pants, that Gerald Langton, lawyer and millionaire, listened with bated breath and pallid cheeks to a low. and melo dious voice that told the story of a life. The speaker, a beautiful woman of about thirty, yet ten years younger than Mr, Langton, reclined m a low cushioned chair, ber dress, her attitude, both speaking of the ease wealth gives, but her face was full of the deepest angliish, as her lips recounted this storv. “You love me,” she said, gently, yet sadly, “and I love you as I never loved anyone before, although I am a widow. That you knew, bat you did not know my husband's name. By my ancle’s last request I dropped it and took his, with the property he left me. Do not look at me tenderly, Gerald, do not shake my voice or my heart, for when you know whom 1 am, you will not repeat the offer you have made me, aud which, Heaven is my witness, L tried to avert. ” “Let your conscience be at rest there,” said her listener, in a grave yet tender voice; “yon have never given me oae hope, Maude. By what instinct 1 Knew that you loved me I can never tell, something in yoar eyes—some tone of yoar voice betrayed you. If, as you say, something in your past life does separate us, you have been no ceqnette to torment me with false hopes, Bui, Maude, tell me again, whatever stands between us, you love me?” “I love you,” she said, gravely '‘and it is because 1 love you that 1 wiill not let you link your honorable name with lhat of the wretch who was my hus band. 1 was very young—not sixteen —when he came to make a visit to some iriends living at Grassbank. Uncle Richard has a country neat near me village. I first met Aleaxander at a picnic, where he was the very life of the party, everybody’s cavalier, court eous to ail, lull of wit and animation and service for all. I believe every girl at the grounds thought she had captivated him, his attentions were so well oivided, and yet so impressive to each one. Me claimed to be no more tnau a salesman in a large wholesale house with a good salary, but he had the manners oi a gentleman, a good education, and the most perfect beauty of face and form that I ever saw in a man. It was not long before it waa evident that he wished to win my love, and fie had \ an easy task. Bach love as a child of sixteen can give, I gave hum He was the impersonation of every hero of poetry aud fiction with whom my limited reading had made me familiar School-girl like, I had made an ideal hero, and fitted this, my first admirer, with all his imaginary perfections. , “From the first, Uncle Richard dis liked mm, pronouncing him false and shallow, ana assuring me lhat my per sonal attractions had not won Ins heart; but that the tact of my being an heiress to a large property had gained me the protestations in whien 1 so firmly be lieved.” “it is a painful story to me now, Gerard. Let it suffice that I lived in a world of delicious dreams while Alexan der remained at Grassbank. When he left, he carried my promise to be his wife at Christmas.” “I think if my money had depended upon Uncle Richard that my marriage might have been prevented by tus threatening to disinherit me. but both from my father and my mother I had inherited money that made me inde pendent, in a pecuniary sense, of his control or consent,” “Most grudgingly, however, my uncle did eonseut,* after searching inquiry about Alexander, resulting in no worse report than that his employes thought loin fast, idK and just the man to be a lortune-hunter. Even then my dear uncle would have protected my fortone by settling it strictly upon myself; but, with the reckless generosity of extreme youth, 1 refused to have thia done. ■Never, y vas firmly oouvineed, would my auored Alexander wrong me in any way.” “For a year after the splendid wed ding that made me Alexander’s wife I was very happy. I was too ignorant of the value of money to understand that we were living far beyond our in come, and enjoyed to the utmost the luxuries surrounding me—the constant gaiety that was in such etroug contrast to the school routine from winch i had just been released.” “Then began a life of neglect, often of quarrelling^ when 1,objected to my minuend's. course of conduct -his drinking, his extravagance, a»id his late hours. Still 1 found my own pleasures in society and a renewal of some of my favorite studies, especially languages and music. 1 was fond, too cl water-color painting, and made pre sents to my friends of specimens of my skid in that line.” “It was four yean after my marriage when i waa thunderstruck oy Alexan der asking me to request a loan of money from Uncle Richard, with the information added that every penny of my property was gone. Binoe then I have known th^t a large proportion of it was lost at the gaming-tables.” “Long before this I had lost all love for my husband. Respect had died out when I knew the dissipated life he was leading, and, foolish as I waa, I could not continue to love a man whom I despised. I refused the errand, and brought down a torrent of such gross abuse that I reaUy expected .Alexander would end by striking me,” “Day after day the request was re newed, but I would not yield. Upou my marriage Unde Richard had sold his city residence and taken np a per manent abode at Grassbank, where knowing my husband to be an unwel come guect, I never visited him. I wrote occasionally, bnt the love of years, like that of father and child, had been so sadly strained by my per sistence in marrying Alexander, that even our correspondence was languid and commonplace.” “I would not, therefore, write to him to ask a favor that I knew would not have been necessary withont criminal recklessness of expenditure, and each refusal made my husband more furious. Then came an overwhelming blow. Alexander forged a check, and drew two thousand pounds of Uncle Richard’s money from the bank. I dq not think my ancle would ever have prosecuted him had he guessed who was the for ger; bat he handed the whole matter over to the lavr as soon as it was dis covered that the oheox was forged. It was traced 'to Alexander, aud at the same time it was found that he had robbed in the same way his former employers. He had given up all work upon iris marriage; bat when he found Ininself without money, his knowledge of the busines enabled him to ferge the check of Derkiss and Oo. Even if Uncle Richard had spared him for my sake, this otner forgery would have entitled him to penal servitude. He was sentenced to seven years, and Uncle Richard took me home, full of heavenly pity and iorgiveuesu for the ohild who nad treated him so ungrate fully.” “Then yoar husband is in prison?” asked Gerard in a hard, strained voice. “No, no; lie is deadl He died within the first year. Unde Richard saw the death in the paper and sent the money for his bunal. No; I am free; bat none the less I am the widow of a convicted felon.” “But none the less,” quoted Gerard, “the woman I love and houor above all others, and hope still to make my wife.” It took, however, more than one interview, full of lover's pleading, m win Maude from her resolution. Bhn so honored her lover, was so proud of his good name and the positiomhe had attained by his talents, that her sensi tive nature shrank from even the shadow of her misery falling upon his life. But the victory was won at last, aud the lawyer walked home one evening full of a proud, glad joy, for Maude had promised to be his wite, “If you are willing to take Alexander Hull’s widow for your wife,” she had said, “I will not oppose you longer, for I love you with ail my heart.” He had no thought but of diat glad triumph when he turned up the gas in his office. He was m the habit of making a last visit there before going np to His bed-room, in case notes or messages had been left for him. One lay there on this evening, a shabby- looking envelope, but directed in a bold, handsome hand that he recog nized at once. He tore it open. A' v er a few Words of introduction the note ran:— “You did the best you oould for me ou my tiial, bnt the facts were too strong for you. I have now a last favor to ask of yon. I die, as you know, at noon to-morrow. You, as my lawyer, can see me at any time. Will you oome as soon as you receive this, and win the gratitude of the man yon know as “James Fox?" “The man I know as James Fox,” muttered the lawyer; “(he smooth, plausible scoundrel who actually made me believe him innocent of the hideous murder for which he was convicted. I can find extenuation for some murders, but this cold-blooded assassination of an old man for money only was revolt ing. How he deceived me, though for a time) And how he exalted over iis success in doing so when, as he says, facts were too strong! Shall I go to him? I suppose I must. It is still early.” It was not yet mi4nig|it when Ge rard Langton was ushered into the sell of the man. who in-a lew-short hoars was to meet the extreme penalty of the law ior the worst crime. Yet there was nothing revolting in the appearance of the omfiinal. Has dress was neat^his hair carefully ar ranged, his mustache faultless, his hands white and.refined looking. He rose from fils seat upon the bed as his lawyer entered his cell. “1 knew you would come,” he said, courteously, “though you were offended my w£ut of frankness. Well, that is all over! You will not refuse the last request of a dying man, Mr. Laug- tou?” “Not if I can grant It,” Waa the reply. “This,” said the murderer, “is not my first offence against die law. Borne Years ago I was sentenced tor a term of years for a forg.ry. By a strange aooi- Ueut I escaped the penalty. On the same day James Fox was sentenced to two years for petty larceny, and we were sent together to prison. James Fox—my companion, understand, not myself—was deranged, bat his lawyers hud not been able to save him, as his aberration waa not always apparent. When we were entered upon the books of toe prison, imagine my amazement when my feliow-pciaoner gave my name for his own. Like a flash 1 saw toe advantage to be gained by the decep tion, and allowed toe error to pi My companion committed suicide, aud 1 escaped with two years' imprison ment, instead of seven, fiat I feared recognition, and went to ; Canada. There I lived by my wits until a year ago, when I returned here to try to raise money from my wife, and thought I saw an easier plan by committing the crime for which I die to-morrow. But I want to see my wife. I wronged her —I robbed her—but Heaven is my witness I lovod her. When I was put in prison she dropped my name, and took her own again. So It is not for Mrs. Alexander Hull you must go, but for Mrs. Maude Temple ” Was the room reeling—the ceiling falling—the wall closing around him? Gerard Langton felt as if they were, as the pames fell on his ears. Maude— his Maude—the Wife of this'ooo! villian who talked of his hideous crimes as if they were ordinary events? Well, he knew that to carry this man’s message was to aeparafe himself from Maude for ever. Never would she let. him marry the widow of a murderer 1 Very |apidly all the terrible facts pressed onC after another upon his brain, and he said, “If you Jove her. why add a now misery to her life. She may have lived down the old pain yon caused her; why, for a selfish gratification will you make her whole life a misery?” “She is my wife! I would bid her firewelL” “She is not your wife! Your own crimes have released her from any alle giance to you!” “You know her?” “Yes! I know what she has suffered, and beg of yon to let her still believe you died years ago.” “She is happy?” “Scarcely that. Such wounds as hers never heal entirely, but it is cru elty to tear them open when they are quiet!” “Has she married?” “No! She is still your widow!” ‘ It is hard to deny myself one more sight of her face, and the hope I had that she would say she forgave me!” “Thiuk of her, not of yourself!’’ There was a long silence in the cell. Every throb of Gerard Laugton’s heart was a pain to him, but Alexander Hull sat in moody silence, evidently reluctant to give up his wish. At last he spoke. “You have been very good to me. Tell me, now, if you have any personal reason for your request. Perhaps— you love her?' 1 *‘I do!” was the brief reply. “She has promised to be my wife!” “Then it will be James Fox who is hanged to-morrow! I meant to give my real name up, but I will carry my se cret to my grave. It may be in anoth er world even the little last self-denial will be a plea for me. Go now. You may trust me.” And he kept his word, and Gerard Langton his seorot. When. Maude, a few weeks later, be came his wife, she little guessed the terrible ordeal which he had spared her, or the added disgrace that belonged to the name she had given up. ‘Great Scott/* The other morning, while the urbane manager of Woodward’s Gardens was smoking a four bit cigar and meditatively listening to the muffled wails of a tom-cat that had just been swallowed alive by the big anacouda, a tall, thin, scientific-look ing man, with a goatee and blue glasses, entered the gate and remarked in an in sinuating manner: “Of course you pass the scientific frater nity ?” 1 ’Of course yje do not, ’’said the show man “What, not the savans, not toe pionee>» in the great march of the mind into the hitberland of the infinite beyond?” re turned the Profestor, with great surprise. ‘1 will not deceive you,’’ sercaslically replied the proprietor of the only salaman der ; “we pass nothing but the quills on the fretful porcupines—1 mean the press. You can’t see the ostndges unless you come down and put up.” Dear me, dear me 1 ” sighed the scien tist reflectively. “To think that a profes sor of cosmogrephic conchology should be denied admittance td a third-class Zx>l Has the skamgatibus been fed yet 1” Skam which I” asked the tiger im- Bavoae of UM Coast. The surf men at Smith's Island, on the Northampton shore of Virginia, rescued .the crew of the Albert Dally, of Augusta, Me. on the nighi of the 7th of January. On the foi<owing day Mr. Cobh’s wreckers went on board in spite of the protestation of Keeper Hitchens, of the LiTe Service. That night the storm * was terrific. The aurtmei succeeded in reaching a point opposite the wreck,, on which were the satlorS so 1 wreckers, at S A M. of the 9th. Only the masts appalled in dim outline, while the hull was completely submerged. Several .jUoston signals were burned to cheer the men on the wrack and to enable the surfmen to determine more accurately the position of the Vessel. It was detrr- jntoed to make an attempt to rescue them ‘with'the boat, but dLer proceed) ng acme distance the surfmen could see nothing of the sctiboner and were forced to return to thC&hore. When ,lt was light enough to see the vessel the safety line, discharged from the Lyle twice thrown hcckis the jibboota of .the vessel, but as bo -attempt was made by those ou board to get the line hauled in by the surfmeu, am| each tij^e, it*parted Two more efforts to shoot the line over the wreck proved unsuccessful, owjng to a strong adverse Wind and the frozen condition of the line, which caused it to part before it reached the destmed point. Rad the line been thrown full across the vessel, it would have availtd nanght, as Mr. Oohb stated that they were too benumbed with cold to Jrave handled it on board, even if it had been placed in their hands. Seeing then that the only hope of saving the Imperiled men lay in reaching them with the suif-boa*, Keeper Hitcheas and hirerew, as soon as the ebbing tide al lowed them to launeb, set. out through the stoi m and the sea, which was running half- mast high to the rescue of the niue men (five of the schooner’s and four of the Uopp Wrecking Company), who had been left on the stranded vessel and who oould now be seen laqhed to the rigging. Keeper Hitchens and his men, though they had been out ou the beach all uigbt hi the terrible storm without fire or tood, drenched to the skin from their fizsl effort to board the vessel, and keeping their feet from freezing only by wading in the salt water of the sea, yet rushed with alacrity to their duty. The boat was launched and stalled on its perilous journey, but the current was so strong that the men weie cut to leeward and the boat fore s 1 inshore. Lauuching the boat again thjy got far enougU out to re ich the line which waa fast on board the wreck, but the sea waa runniug so high that it was snatched from the hands ot the men who held it and again they were driven ashore. An other power!u! effort was made to reach the wreck, and this time they succeeded. One of the mts outtus .wseok, Edward Hunter, 6f Maine, the steward of the rchoouer, who refused to go up in the rigg ing, had been washed overboard and lost about daybreak. The remaining eight men were carried ashore—four at a time— dreadfully benumbed by their long expo sure to the cold. Richard Gordon, a member of the Cobb wrecking crew, died from the effects of exposure just about the time he reached the shore. porter. “The You've got one, Bkamgatibus. haven’t you f” “Y-e-a-s; 1 believe we’ve a small fe male somewherea,” said the grizzly’s friend doubtfully. “I never knew a first-class collection to have less than two pair,” ;said the Profes sor contemptuously. “How do your Azi muths stand this cold weather, el ‘ ‘•Azimuths 1’’ asked-the Napoleon gregator of cunosiiiqk: “what’s thefent Some neyr .Mud of bird—you don’t mi ofltri >v f ** ^ “Ostridges be hanged 1’UfeidHhe sm sor of Darwin; “ostridges are nothing. I’ve shot mo*o ostridges with quail shot than you've got hairs on your head. Tr>u don’t actually mean to sit there and tell me yon haven't got a single azimuth to your back?” “Don’t believe 1 have,” admitted Ihe alligator breeder, mortified; “what aie they like ?’’ “Ou, they’re of the order Spinalis aplc mntis, about eight feet hign. Fur peels off-in the spring, you know—the Siberian species. 1 mean. ' I suppose you 're got one ot those rectangular Aft roan flipgoohiies that reached New York the other day!’’ “No; I’m darned if I did,” said the much agitated showman. “Here I’ve been keeping an agent in New York on a big salary to look out for attractions, and he doesn’t catab on to the first blamed thing. Spends all our money on second hand panthers and. kangaroos with the rheumatics. I’ll bounce him by telegraph!” “Haven’t even got a flipgoohly, eh f ” mused the scientUt, in a tone of great pny, “And 1 sb luidn t be surprised if you didn’t have a golden-crested cuspidor in your whole show.” “Neither 1 have ; neither I have,” re plied the wietebed promoter of pelicans, in a tone of great bitterness. “S’pose yon lust step m, sir, and look round: mebbe laere’s something else yon could say ” “N-n- ■, I guess not,” said the tall man. “It would baldly psy me to spend so much valuable ecieanfic time in a fourth- class show like this. Not even on azi muth, eh ? 1 should think you’d be afraid of being actually mobbed some time. I’m sorry for you, my good man: sorry for you. I’ve no doubt you mean well, but —not a solitary skamgatibusf Great Scott! ” Rotns’a Ruins. Kiillug Deer with Axe*. account of A correspondent gives an deer in the forests of Marne and the laws of that State to protect them. A number of years since a law was passed forbidding the killing of moose, deer or carsrbou be tween the first of February and first of October, and forbidding the hunting of them with dogs at any season, under a penalty of $40 tor each offence. But this law did not protect the game in the deep snows of January hunters from dist ant States, as well as those in Maine, killed thousands of the animals in the deep snows, ia many cases using only axes for killing them as they drove them into the deep snow-banks, the hunters going on snow-shoes. In 1873 the legislature for bade the hunting or Killing of the animals in January, as well as in ail the following months to October. Alter this the deer increased rapidly, and at times they even mingled with the herds of farmers.' The lumbermen could kill enough for their own use without going a great distance from their cabin doora In a few years these laws were disregarded, and hunters came into the forests in the winter and slaughtered thousands and sent their car casses to the Boston and other distant markets. In 1876 the Legislature made a law imposing a fine of $40 for each car cass «r hide sent out of the State. This law, served a good purpose ia protecting tfie^ game, though- itr inay be questioned whether it was not-a stretch of legislative •power In interdicting commerce between tbe States. However, mT878 ioflueccees were brought to bear which secured a re peal of the law forbidding the exportation of carcasses and hides, sad since then the deer, caribou and moose have been grow ing scarce, and the subject of making more alnngent laws to proieet them is dis cussed. As the work of destruction ia now going on. not only the larger wild mune but the forests of this country will disappear in a comparatively britf period. Jv wishbones were keys might ride. homes then tor CollecHnK tbe Damegm- “1 am a quiet, unostentatious man, and never harm nobody,” said the intruder, moistening the palms of his hands and taking a firmer grasp of the axe-helve, “but if you don’t come down with $17 to soothe my lacerated feelings there will be trouble here in Austin.” “Was the boy bitten sc very badly by my dog I” asked the terrified owner of the animal, who la one of the most timid men in Austin “He was bitten just $17 worth,” replied tbe in truder, Awifigtirg the weapon around his bead. “Here is your money,” replied the owner of the dog. Tue intruder put the mdney in his pocket, and was about to leave, when the proprietor of the dog re marked : *T hope your sou was not bitten badly.* 1 “Why, he alr’t my son. I haven’t got any son.” “Whose sor, ia he then, and how did you come to demand tbe money of me 1/ “He is the son of a friend of mine who owed me $17, and he didn’t have any money. The only avail able aseete he had were tboee dog bites on his sob’s body, and be turned' them over to me for collection, and I have collected them,” “Well, I declare I” “And stran ger,” continued the man with the axe- ban die, “If you or fny of your family ever ge» bitten by a dog, ami you want toe damages collected promptly from the owner of the dog, let me Know, and 1 will do H for 26 per cent, net and f nt niah my wn axe-handle." W orks of excavation in Rome are gen erally discontinued daring the summer and autumn montoa. Tne laborers go off to the corn and wine harvest a, where they get better pay, but this year the excava tions on the Forum, and along the side of the f'al&tine facing the Temple of Romu lus and the Basilica of Constantine, have been conlMued with increasing activity. The extent of ground broken Is something unusua', and evidently Signor Baccelli ia determined io do hia utmost to insure, at far aa poeatble, the completion of his grand scheme of archaeological exploration by cutting out all the work he can. It com- piises the restoring to light of all that re mains of the building!) ami constructions which surrounded and adorned the Roman Forum; tne clearing of the entire area by removing everything, of whatever nature, superimposed upon it in modern times ;the junction of the excavations on the Forum with those on the Palatine by the comple ting of both; the Isolation from—or rather within- the modern city of the greater part of the fourth,the eighth and the tenth of the Augustan regions ot ancient Rome which adjoined each other, and their dedication to the memories coanectcd with them. Extensive cxcavatious have restored much to light and have taught us much, but the desolation remained almnat aa great as before. These excavotions never assumed any other aspect than that of a number ot great holes, notwithstanding that some of linm afforded considerable space to walk about in. There was—as regards the Forum—first, the hole betwesn the masiive wall of the Tabutanum, with the rear of the modern municipal buildings siauding upon it on the one side and the roadway passing from the Via Bonella to the Via della Cousol.coine in trout of the Arch of Septimus Severua on the other, in whiobweie completely visible the remains of the Temples of Saturn, Vespasian, hnd Ccncord, the Rostra and the Arch of Sep- timius Severus excavated in tbe time of Pius VI1. Then on the further Bids of that roadway there waa. until twelve years ago, the small, uncieau hole dug at the expense .of the Duchess of Devonshire in December, 1818. This, between 1*70 and 1876, waa enlarged aa far aa the Temple of Antoninus and Faustiua, aud ia 1878—a second roadway peing left at that point— another bole waa dug beyond,extending as far as the Arch of Titus, and again the works were suspended. But a new impetus was given in Febru ary last to the exploration of the Forum. A seat iu tbs Italian Cabinet, and that seat the head of the Department of Public In struction, waa for the first time held by a Roman, Signor Baocelli. The Roman ar- ohssologuts were anxious to ascertain the site of the Fabian Arch,of which no traces had been found on eithe: side of the cause way left from the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina to the corner of the Palatine. Its discovery would determine the vexed queation of the course of tbe Sacra Via, and there waa co difficulty in interesting Signor Baccelli suffl iently to obtain his permission to remove the causeway in search of it. That search waa ineffectual notwithstanding that some vouissoirs and other details which had evidently formed >arta ot the arch were found, but dhcover tea of the greatest Interest were made. Sufficient indications were obtained to sat isfy many competent authorities aa to the Lae of the Sacra Viaioonsiderable remains of the Regia were found, aud other impor tant discoveries were made at the very spot where it waa necessary to discontinue Che excavations. These only served to stimulate unsatisfied interest. Among othsr things a fragment of the celebrated njsrble plan of Rome, dug up in the course of the works, gave the plan of the very where it waa found, and raised w tionof the Via Nova. Tne work accomplished so far ia a good earnest of what we may look forward to enjoying when the Palatine and the Forum —the area within which the whole history of Rome centered and can be studied—are excavated aa completely aa the remains of Pompeii, ca r ei tor with tbe same scientific discernment, and placed, aa what la left of that ancient city is, open to the easy com- pretension of the most simple. What is seen at Pompeii is seen completely and can be understood. What is visible of the Palace of the Caesars and other remains on the Palatine and of the Forum can only be seen by looking, aa 1 have said, into a number of separate holes, and, when seen, can only be imperfectly uncerstaod after infinite puzzling. Twelve years ago the queatieu of the direction of the Forum-did It extend north to aonth toward the Arch of Titus, or from east to west toward the Circus Maximus—waa atill a matter of controversy. Certainly they were few who continued to hold to the latter theory: but, clear aa the case appeared to the ma jority, there was then no visible evidence that could be put forward aa decisive. Ten months ago no one oould prove which of the two streets running along the Formu was the Sacra Via, and the theories as to its course were many. The difficulty has not yet been set at rest to the satisfactioa of all, bat the weight of authority la agreed that the excavations made last spring re vealed the exact line of the celebrated street “glorified by a hundred victories,” and the removal of comparatively a few more square metres of rubbish will aettle the queation forever. There are, with one or two unimportant exceptions only, no longer any doubts as to the namee of the templet and other remains standing on tbe uncovered portion of the Forum. No one disputes the fact that we can point with certainly to the nuna of the temple which Augustus built ou tbe spot where the bony of “Great Julius” was burned, and to many other hiatoric sights; but all this la still of but limited educational value, for bewil dering controverty is rife—and will con tinue so until the whole anea is cleaned— as to where the Oomitium, the Greccttasis, the other Rostra and many more important details were situa-ed. , Tha excavations on the Palatine have also given most valuable result*, 'like general topography of toe greater part of the lmperiai.Pai*ce,and a few of tbe spots where events connected with the lives and deaths of some of theUnssn occurred, have been ascertained beyond dispute. Wecau look with certainty on portions of the edi fices bait by Tiberius, Caligula, Domitian, and Beptimlus Severn*, We know exact- actly where the remains of those built by Augustus and others are lying boned. We can walk along toe gallery where Caligula was murdered, and picture the scene de 9 very ppot Qr&^ues- scribed with such graphic power by Sue tonius, and especially by Josephus, but these are so far only detached facts, with no connecting links visible, and may well le likened to a few hnea of a palimpsest deciphered here and there, while all the rest lips hidden beneath the work of later hands. It ia not so long ago that the lines in which Statius mentions the colossal equestrian statue of'Domitian on the For um and the edifices around it were spoken of aa & “stumbling block rather than an auxiliary to antiquities. Now we can stand upon the wreck of the pedestal of that coiossus and look upon the rem&lma of these c< ificta situated exactly aa Statius describes them. The excavations in progress will soon reveal tuj spot behind the Temple of Cas tor where he reminded hia contemporaries they might unguardedly lose their money, in like manner, when they are completed, we ihall be able to tread, tA°p by step, the route Ovid took (• Trist/’HI, 1, 27) from the Fornm of Cmsar to the Palatine, and recognize the buildings and sites he tells us that he passed; that Otho followed when he suddenly left Galba sacrificing in the Templia of Apollo and hurried through the Palace of Mlbdnus to the Velabrum, and thenoe to the Golden Milestone, near the Temple of Saturn, and all the other localities, both within the palace and on tne Forum,Tacitus and Suetonius mention with such topographical exactness in their records of the tragical death ot Galba; that along which Cicero hastened after Fulvias warning, from his house on the corner of the Palatine, and convoked the Senate to meet him in the Tempi* of Jupiter Stator tbe same spot where Romulus centuries before bad rallied his Romans, and close to where their Sabine wives rushed from the Palatine down among the combatants. The clearing away of all the accumulation and rubbish lying upou it, like the later writing on a palimpsest, will enaole us to put those bits together, to localize with ex actness the sceues historians and other writers have described, and make it possi ble to study the events of Roman history aa it has never been studied before on tbe very spots and within the remains of the very walla where they were enacted. Ramarkabht Comets. Geraniums In The Window. It ia very rare to see a well-grown geranium in window culture. Even if the plant bloom fairly, they are often drawn np, mis-shapen things, not pleasing to look upon. In the majority of cases, plants that have been set out in the garden for the summer are al lowed to “go as you please.” The roots finding an abundance of rich soil, the tope grow off at a famous rate. At the approach of cool weather the plants are taken up as they stood; if any out- ting ia done, it ia at the roots, to bring them within the limits of the pot, and the plants are placed in the win dow. Aa a consequence of such treat ment, the majority of the leaves fade and fall, and show a lot of long, lanky stems, with a small tuft of leaves at the top. This condition of the plants is due either to a lack of knowledge or to' timidity. Amateur cultivators, as a general thing, seem to fear to oae the knife; oonld the plant suffer pain, they would not be more reinctant to out. The proper method is, to prepare the plants for taking in long before the time for lifting them; but it is too late to advise that, as it is to suggest prun ing them at the time of taking them np. Even at this late day it is better to out back the geraniums to a good shape than to let them remain as they are. Of coarse each plant will have its own needs in this respect, and only general advice can be given. Cat back the long stems in inch a manner that the plant will form a low, rounded head, and re move altogether snoh branches as will make the head too much crowded. Kamarkable Rands at Poker. Foot members of a well-known olnb in New York sat down to a game of poker. There was a dollar limit, and there was no desire on the par* of any of the players to win much money. After one deal three of them drew one card each, except the dealer, who passed out. The man on the left of the age bet one dollar, the second man raised him one dollar, and the age raised the pot an other dollar. This was followed by raises to the limit all around a second e, when the roan who made the first MlQI feet it said: “Gentlemen, I ought to raise the bet, bnt this is a sociable game, and I’ll not crowd you. I will simply oalL ” Without wai’ing for the others to bet he laid face upward on the table the deuce, tray, four and five of spadoe. The fifth card he placed back upper most. The second mm said. “I feel the same about this matter, I will simply eall.” He then showed the deuce, tray, (mr and five of diamonds, hiding the fifth oard. “I also call,” said the age, and he displayed the denee, tray, four aud fire of dubs. The fifth card of each was then shown, and it was seen that each had a straight flash of the same value. The pot was divided. It was a square game, and the hands were not fL.?d. The earliest obaerven of comets were either among the Chinese or Chaldeans. Among the moat ancient nations, espec ially the Greeks and Romans, comets were regarded as not only precursors of evil, but frequently also of good fort une. Thus in the year 344 B. C. tbe appearance of a great comet was thought to be a token of the success of Timo- leon’s expedition to Sicily. Again, in the year 134 or 132 B. C.,the birth of tbe great Mithxidatea was signalized by two remarkable comets whom bright ness, we are told, eclipsed tost of the moon-day son, and which occupied a quarter of the heavens. The accession of Mithridatea in the year 118 B. C. to the throne of Pontns was likewise marked by a celestial visitant of the same nature. A comet which shone In the year 86 B, 0. waa thought by Pliny to have been the forerunner of the civil commotions which took place daring the consulship of Octavios, and another which appeared in 43 B. C. waa be lieved to be the sonl of Jalina Caesar transported to the heavens. Later ou, a number of Goniete, during the reign rf Nero, were seized on by that emperor aa pretexts for all kinds of perseention. Tacitus, referring to one of these, re marks that it was “a kind of presage which Nero always expiated with noble blood.” Josephus relates that in 68 A. D., among the terrible omens which foretold the doom of. Jerusalem, was a comet with a tail in the shape of a sword, which hang for a year over the city, Comets were frequently regard - ed in past times as the presages of the death of some illustrious personage. Comets are said to have foretold the death of the Emperors Vespasian, Con stantine the Great, and Valentinian, of Attila the Hun, Mahomet, Louis the Second, Richard Cesar de Lion, Philip of Spain, Francis the Sjcond, and many other potentates too numerous to men tion. The hiatorian Sozomenes de scribes a terrible comet which hung over Constantinople in the year 400, and was believed to be the cause of the pestilence that devastated the oity. During the Middle Ages comets were almost universally considered aa fore telling calamities. We read lees of them as presaging an anspicious reign or honoring the birth of a great hero, than as the precursors of plague, famine, or war. In the year 1000 it was popularly believed that the world was coming to an end, and it may be easily imagined that men’s minds were in a state to ex aggerate the importance of any phen omena in the heavens. A comet which waa visible in that year for nine days, waa described as being shaped like a - dragon, and as having many impossible accompaniments. Shortly before Wil liam the Conqueror crossed to Britain, a comet with three tails made its ap pearance, which was said by his oonrt- iers to pro ve the divine right of the in vader to too throne. This comet has been proved to be identical with that afterwards discov ered by Halley, and had already ap peared several times, in the year 684 A. D., 12 B. C., and possibly 135 B. C„ in which case it was the same aa that which announced the birth of Mithridatea. Pi avion* to the time of Newton the appearance and movements of comets were a great puzzle to toe philosophers, and numerous were toe speculations as to their nature. The Chaldeans had by no means a totally false notion of the causes of toeir ap pearance and dissapearanoe, attributing them to toe fact toa^ihey revolve iu orbits far above the moon, so as to be only visible to os during a small portion of their revolution. They were also right in believing them to be of a na ture allied to the planets rather than mere atmospheric phenomena. This view was adopted by the -'tronomer Appolonins of Myndns, who •• Seneca relates, receives his ideas from the Chaldeans. It was also held by Dioge nes, toe Ionic philosopher, that, Hip pocrates of Chios, and several of the Pythagorean schooL Seneca had the same opinion. The great comet of 1861 created considerable of a sensation by toe suddenness with which it blazed oat, and the shortness of the time dur ing which it was yisible in oar iati- tudes. Tne Quincy Market Cold Storage Com pany, of Boston, are said to have the lar gest refrigerating building m the world, it is of stone and brick, 160 by 80 feet in size, and 70 feet in height The capaeity is 900,000 cable feet, the cost $200,000, and toe ice chamber holds 600,000 teas of ice. It will be used for storing dressed beef and mutton. Thu Chicago refrigera ting cars unload at the door. Though not much of a conversation alist, a mute might get alor.g yenj nice ly in a spoke factory. Pottery, Modeling pottery ia as deligbtlul an occupation as making mud pies. The student, with a board on her lap or on a table, takes up a lump of clay aud kneads it to a proper consistency witu water. With a little leaf-shaped wooden knife she carves out a rose, and as each petal is shaped she takes a camel's hair brush and paints the Vhole flower, or rather what she call slips—that is, water made the thickness of cream with clay. Iron pins are used for veining toe leaves, and saoh bud ic copied from the natural object placed before the artist. During all these processes toe Vase or article to be be decorated mast be kept moist. If It is too wet, it will melt swsy into day; if too <tty, it will crack and break in at last all toe they are painted in toe body of tint. >