Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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) TEI-WEEKLY EDITION. WAITING. Waiting while the shadows gather, And the sunlight fades away; While the tender gloaming deepens, And the golden turns to gray. Watching while the starlight quivers Brightly in the heaven above: I am waiting for her coming, Waiting, watching for ray Icve. Listening for the well-known footfall, And the voice whose loving tone Sweetly bids me cease my waiting, Watching, listening for my own. Lingering still among the shadows, As they deepen on the beach, Hearts exchange in see red stillness Thoughts that would be soiled by speech. Thus in perfect love and trusting, Winged moments pass aw ; ay; Till the holy, star-crowned night is Sweet to us as golden day. And as tenderly the gleaming Gathered on the brow of day, God shall keep her, God shall bless her, When life’s golden turns to gray. WHY SHE LEFT THE STAGE. She was a charming lady of 27, fresh as a rose, bright as a summer day, and just as full of life and cheerfulness. There was a touch of matronliness in her manner as she sat at the head of the table when dinner was over, and helped her two children, as bright as herself, to dessert. Her husband sat opposite and watched the little ones worry her by all I had to do was to keep clear of scandal, maintain my self-respect, and go on in my quiet way. But even that I was not permitted to do. The low comedian is always a popular member of a company, and is generally supposed to be attached to the soubrette. That was enough. The female members of the company, or some of them, envied me and every little conversation I held off the stage was re ported and retailed, with all the color ing neccessary to show me in a bad light. I loved my husband then although it took reams of paper and gallons of ink to per suade him of it. He came once or twice to see me, and I think now he was un usually sensible because I knew if I had seen anybody hug him on the stage, as he saw others hug me, I should not have believed his stories as he did mine. But there was still some charm to be drawn from the applause and praise, and I held my peace. At last they put up a burles que and I was to play a prince. I was very much excited about it at first, but when I got my handsome dress on I felt a curious sensation that I did not like. What was it like ? When I walked on the stage, in the first act, I felt impelled to put down the absent skirt. I was not cold; I was not hot, either, for tights let in no air. My figure did not appear to be so handsome as I thought it was. I began to think my limbs were not straight. My knees knocked together, Stanley In Africa. sorts of affectionate appeals, while she looked up now and then and threw a lov- j an( j j could not walk even like a woman ing expression across the table. The I felt I was making a guy of myself, and cigars were lit, and the children satisfied, the lady rose and said she must take the little torments to the nursery. As the door closed the husband spoke: “ You told me I should not be happy because I married an actress. What do you think of this? ” “ It is perfectly charming. She seems to have forgotten the stage and every thing connected with it.” “ Oh, no, you were right there. She lias never forgotten it. She is still proud of those old notices, but the glamour has fallen from her eyes, and she often says she owes her happiness, as I say I do, to you.” “How so?” “You w’rote an adverse criticism of her once and I was on hand to take ad vantage of it.” “ I don’t understand you.” “ Here she comes. She will tell you the story herself. I was just saying that we owe all our happiness to him,” said he as his wife entered. “Indeed we do. I’ve brought the book here to show you.” The easy chairs were drawn up to the fire and the wife, seating herself on a low stool, opened the book and pointed to one of the last notices pasted there. “There it is. I have never acted since then. You would like to hear the story ? I will tell it. When I was e girl I had a nice figure, nice voice and some thought, a pretty face. I had a wonderful com mand of spirits and was full of fun. Such a girl takes naturally to comic singing and dancing, and I used to amuse my playmates with all sorts of performances. Then I grew r fond of private theatricals, and was considered quite an actress. The encouragement I received made me wild to go oa the stage, and I used to study all the soubrettes I could see. My great ambition was to play a ‘Prince’ in a burlesque, but my friends would never permit me to do it. At last there was nothing for it but I must go on the stage, and I did. I did not play in my native place, but I went to an adjoining city and was engaged on trial. Never mind what part I played first. It was ‘ Betsy Baker,’ I think. At all events it was quite successful. The papers gave me fine notices, my engagement was con firmed and I was happy. I had a kind of a compact with this gentleman at the time, and I need not tell you that he gave me very little encouragement on my suc cess. I played lots of parts and became a great favorite pith the audience. But strangely enouglrl began to grow tired of it. Even laudation and applause did not satisfy me. The real truth was that I did not find the life as easy and pleas ant as it looked to me from the front. It seemed as if those people had nothing to do but walk on the stage and act for a couple of hours and all their work was over. I found it very different. At first as a stranger I was treated very kindly and courteously. With my suc cess I felt the spirit of jealousy all around me. The politeness soon began to wear off, the encouragement every body gave me as a beginner was withdrawn as soon as I proved that I was capable of acting myself. It was a new pert every night,- and when I had. an unimportant one it seemed to be the hardest work to learn and to act it. “ As the season went on and the com pany began to grow familiar with one rfitiA 'another, I heard around me language I had never been accustomed to.’ Men were rude, woman were coarse, the life was mixed, and neither men nor women showed what I thought was a respect for one another or themselves. I sometimes look back with a shudder over what I escaped. The scandal, which I gave no heed to, was, I had to admit, based upon truth. Men talked like women about other men, and women talked like men about other women. I was too young on the stage to feel certain of my judg- as the audience applauded my entrance the sound conveyed to me a sensation no other applause ever did. It was not the applause of enjoyment of my acting. It was a tribute to my figure, an acknowl edgment of a kind of admiration I felt was not honorable, was not creditable. It came from men who had no ladies with them, and my enjoyment of the burlesque was over. With a suddeness that took away my breath almost, I came to my senses. I was no longer a modest woman. I was no longer an attraction save from my abandonment of all a woman’s purity. I could not sing.»I could not dance. I could not speak my lines. I could do nothing but think every man in the audience 'was looking upon me as something.! did not wish to be. Next morning I read that notice, and it clinched my misery. All night long I had thought about the appearance I had mad^^TheilSjgttit to the thea- fefifc* 'T had such before, but never so plain, never so degrading. I telegraphed to this gen tleman to come to me. He came. I did not show him the letters for a time. I was too bitterly ashamed to doit. Of course, you think he advised me to quit the stage. Not a bit of it. He tortured me for an hour by pretending to like it, until I declared that I would never again appear on the stage, and when he felt quite sure I felt sufliciently mortified, he took the letters and put them in the fire, dictated a note of resignation, ahd he went to the jeweler’s, where my finger was measured for a wedding ring. I am proud of my success on the stage, but there is no happiness like this in the reputation of an actress.” — Dr. Jones' Mistake. The fact has already been published that, while Stanley, in the service of the African International Society, was slow ly working his way up the Congo, build ing commercial -stations on the jaght or north bank, Signor De Brazza, an Ital ian by birth, but a Frenchman by adop tion, pushed across the country north of the river from the coast, „ad, aniving first at Stanley pool, procured from the native chief, Makoho, the cession to France of the territory on the north side of the pool. The south side still remain ed free, and on it Stanley built his fourth station, Ledpoldville, and in his further progress kept on the same side of the river. However it is doubtful whether France will go further and insist upon the treaty of De Brazza’s. Even if it is accepted, it cannot control the naviga tion of the pool, which is an expansion of the river into a lake. The natives themselves regard it of little conse quence, for they have driven off the Pere Augouard, a Freffck piisst, claiming that their arrangement was with De Brazza alone. The great river will re main free to the navigation of the world. The organization under which Stanley lias been working, and which has for its head the King of Belgium, is philan thropic in its designs. Its purpose is to carry civilization into the far interior of Africa and develop legitimate commerce. It aims to be self-supporting, and to this erd permanent stations have been built at Vivi, just below the Yellala falls, as the cataract nearest the mouth of the river is called; at Isangila, the second cataract, where the boat Lady Alice was left on Stanley’s trans-continental jour ney : at Manyanga, seventy four miles further up; where the river again be comes impassable; at Leopoldville, on the south side of the pool, and at Malebu, whence the river, is navigable for 900 milesabove. Therteare now seven Belgian steamers on the river, four on the lower part of the stream and three above Stan ley Pool. Already trade has been great ly developed. When Vivi was establish ed in 1879 there were no commercial houses for fifteen miles alicve. Now there is a station—Dutch, English, Old Noxon used to have a row w ith his wife about three times a week. He got cranky and made up his mind to shuffle off; so he filled up with laudanum and went to bed. The old lady went to screaming, and as fast as the neighbors came in sent them off after a doctor. Some of them went in one direction and some in another, and it wasn’t long be fore the doctors began to congregate. Smith got there first and looked the old man over. “Dead,” says he, and he went away. Then Brown came in. “ Dead,” says he. Jones was the third one in, and he rammed a stomach-pump down the old man’s throat and pumped up the dmg store. Then he reversed the action of the pump and flooded the old man with water, and, after sloshing him around for awhile—same as if he was rinsing out a cider barrel— he pumped out the water and then flooded him again Noxon wasn’t in the habit of taking so much water in his’n, and pretty soon he began to gasp and kick. Before mom ing Jones had him all right, and went away feeling de^d sure that there was but one first-class doctor in the world. A few days afterward he presented his bill. “What's this for?” says old Noxon. “For saving your life the other night,” says Jones. “ Well, I didn’t ask you to. I never employed you, and I’ll not pay it. You’d no business coming in here and jamming your old pump d »w n my neck. Brown is my family physician, and I’ll not pay anybody else,” says old Noxon. So away went Jones to Brown’s office, and tried to get him to induce old Noxon to pay the bill. “Jones,” says Brown, looking out over the top of his spectacles, “ I never thought you was a bad sort of a fellow but you’ve done a very foolish thing, ahd it serves ypu right to lose your bill. Its a good lesson to you, and I hope you’ll profit by it. Didn’t I say he was dead?” “Yes” says Jones. “Didn’t Smith say he was dead ? ” “ Yes ” says, Joiks. “ Well, that settled it! The man was dead, and you had no right to say he wasn’t^ When two old, experienced doctors,Tike Smith and I, say a man is dead, it’s unprofess ional and young man, ment but could no* see the necessity for j ft beginner in practice,'to dispute their the flirtation ihat Went on behind the >«£. you ***"», be- scenes or the familiarity with which the gIM j ^ huah matter up for you; but sexes treated one another* It was, after 4 be very careful in tjie future, find make all, I reasoned, no business of mine. All no more such mistakes?” { French, Belgian, or Portuguese—every mile. Stanley has returned to Europe by the advice of lus physicians, who de clare that removal from Africa is neces sary to save las life, lie lias accom plished what be was sent to perform, and has done a wonderful work, as is fully shown in a very detailed account in the Herald. He was sent back to Africa in 1870 by King Leopold, of Belgium. He took with him some whites and a large number of the Zanzibar men who had crossed the continent with him. On arriving on the coast he found the white merchants and the natives who traded with them opposed to a possible invasion of the monopoly they enjoyed. Having determined to plant his first station at Yivi, the only site obtainable for a sta tion with a hill 250 feet high, about 700 feet in length, and 200 feet wide, just room enough to make a broad street with a line of houses on either side, and head quarters at the end. The task was a terrible one, the tools were wretched, the men were new to’ the work, and the sun shone on the road party from the west and the reflection from the face of the hill exhausted and half baked the men. The Europeans were quickly exhausted, and the natives suffered greatly. The crown of the hill was a soft rock, which was excavatefor a depth of about two feet. Two thousand tons of rich earth were carried to the summit, and a gar den, now full of flourishing fruit trees, was constructed. From Viva to Isan gila the mountains were steep and ra vines and torrents were frequent. We quote Stanley’s own account: “ Finally at one place a large mount ain seemed to bar all further progress. It presented an almost vertical fracture on one side, though the ascent from this side was easy and gentle. It was a mountain toppled over, as it were; it was about ten miles in length, and at the extreme corner of it was the river, to which it sloped rapidly down to the fur ious cataract, presenting a face of bare rock. Across the comer we had* to cut our way, making a road of fifteen feet wide, since the descent of the other slope would have been a matter of sheer im possibility. In several places we had to make rude bridges sufficiently strong enough to bear six tons rolling over them. Further on the mountains were at times so steep that it took 180 men to haul one of the wagons from the valley to the top. We had no animals. Nothing but men would have done, for if we iiad had animals we should have had to carry large additional stores of food, and this extra burden would have rendered our progress still more hazardous and diffi cult. While making this road we passed through a wilderness fifty miles long, with scarcely a village worthy of the name, having to supply the men all the time with provisions brought froln Europe. The weight and labor of our transport may be imagined wlien I say we had no less than 2,225 loads or pack ages, each weighing from sixty-five to seventy pounds. We had seven large store tents, and besides this we had enormous wagons, built on purpose in Belgium for us, whereon to transport the two steamers and two large steel boats, with boilers and machinery, which we had brought with ns to be put together on the Upper Congo. To do all the haul ing we had only sixty-eight Zhnzibaris and a few west coast natives, so that our working number ranged from ninety to one hundred and forty. This number was never long the same, for the natives would only work wlien they pleased, and only for a day or two at a time, and nothing would induce them to assist us regularly. We had togo over the ground no less than thirty-tliree times and our rate of progress, calculating the number of days we traveled, was only a quarter of a mile per da>. But there were places where it took us twenty-six days to pass just 400 yards, all of the available strength bein«r put to a single wagon at a time. I never could make the people of Europe understand (hp necessity of sending us qew supplies or hands from the other coast, But the work had to be done or abandoned, and as we had no thought of retiring from the field dis comfited, we worked on,.ranting aud toiling, and, finally, after eleven months of unceasing labor, the two steamers were put together at our second station at the Isangila cataract, the place where I left the Lady Alice after her 7,000 miles journey with me on the Anglo- American expedition across the Dark Continent. The Lady Alice was up more. She had been broken up by the natives for the sake of the copper nails in her sheathing.” The third statioiy seventy-four miles further on, was completed after great la bor by May, 1881. Then Stanley fell sick of fever, aud came very near dying. Now his trouble with De Brazza began, but he circumvented the Italian by planting his stations on the'south side. The natives were, very friendly, even at the place where they fought him when he came down the river in 1877. He procured the cession of five acres of ground, and by the 3rd of December bad launched the first steamer above the last falls. The station, LeopoldvjSe, is a large one. The prinofbitl house is two storied, ninety feet long, twenty-six broad and twenty- four high. There are two other large dwellings, and a store-house sixty feet long and twenty vide, with 113 more humble cottages The location is in the midst of a large population, and the houses are surrounded by fields of grain and fruit. When this work was com pleted Stanley resumed his old work of an explorer, and went up the Quango or Kwango river, the great affluent of the Congo from the south, a distance of 150 miles. It was navigable still further, and on proceeding a few miles he came upon a lake seventy miles long and from six to thirty miles in breadth. This he named Lake Leopold? The expedition suffered a good deal from bilious attacks and rheumatism. Having established his fifth station at Malebu, he felt that his work was done, and moved toward the coast. At Manyanga he encountered the chiefs of the English Baptist mission, who had been driven from Stanley’s Pool. He gave them a good many direc tions as to the best points to occupy, and letters to chiefs of stations bespeaking for them hospitality and assistance, and then took his leave, probably a final one, of Africa. A Brave Who Ate a Heart. It is a custom prevailing among the Pottawattomie Indians, who are quar tered on a reservation in Jackson county, about fifty miles west of here, that when one dies his property and widow shall go to Ids brother, if he has one. This custom is usually honored, but there has just occurred a case in which the widow objected. N-Wahk-Tate, who is not a dead Indian, but is nevertheless vouched for as a good Indian, happened to be the surviving brother and being without a wife orAWld he urged his suit, but was refuftS From that time he became a chaagra man and, follow ing the evil exampknof his white neigh bors; took to. strung ^drink, persisting therein unttf He became deranged, and became such a terror to Ids tribe that he was brought before the Probate Judge at Holton, adjudged insane and placed in the county jail until the au thorities at the State Insane Asylum could be communicated with. While on the reservation N-Wahk-Tate did some curious things. Killing a cat, he placed it within the skin of a wildcat and carried it around in his breast until he met some one, when he would shake the dead animal at the person, which would greatly frighten some of the more superstitious Indians. A number of years ago a member of the tribe killed a man and preserved his heart. This article fell into the possession of N- Wahk-Tate. who, after becoming insane, ate all of it. Meat Bread. M. Scheurer-Kestner hes discovered the remarkable fact that the fermenta tion of bread causes the complete diges tion of meat. He found that beefsteak cut into small pieces, and mixed with flour and yeast, disappeared entirely during the process of panification, its nutritive principles becoming incorpor ated with the bread. The meat would also appear capable of preservation for an indefinite period in its new state, for loaves of meat bread made in 1873 were submitted to the French Academy of Science, when not a trace of worms or mouldinesB was observable. At the beginning of his experiments, M Scheurer-Kestner used raw meat, three parts of weich, finely minced, he mixed with five parts of flour and the same quantity of yeast. Sufficient water was added to make the dough, which in due time liegan to ferment. After two or three hours the meat disapiieared, and the bread was baked in the ordinary manner. Thus prepared, the meat bread Iiad a, disagreeable taste, which was avoided by cooking the meat for an hour with sufficient water to afterwards moisten the flour. The meat must be carefully deprived of fat, tod only have sufficient salt to bring out the flavor, as salt by absorbing moisture fcun the air would tend to spoil the bread. A part of the beef may oe replaced with advan tage by salt lard, which is found to im prove the flavor. The proportion of meat to flour should not exceed one-half, so as to insure complete digestion. Bread made with a suitable proportion of veal is said to furnish excellent soup for the sick and wounded. After h", mass, which he says early, Leo XIIL gives audience to Cardinal t’soohim. Secretary of State and former ly Nuncio at Vienna, whose political learning is rare, even in those of his offi cial position. His place is then taken by the Cardinal Seoretray of Ecclesias tical Affairs and by the congregation of Cardinals, each of which has its fixed day. The several councils generally occupy the whole morning, until one hour after midday. The Pope’s dinner: A potage. one dish of meat, and some cheese, A few minutes suffice for its oonsupiption. While he takes the air in the afternoon—generally in his oar- rage—he usually reads the bishops’ re ports, all of which comes direct into his own hands, the (dispatches from the nonolatures, and especially any news from Belgium. That little kingdom, which has broken its diplomatic relat ions with the Holy See is particularly near ius heart. For it is there that he himself was Nuncio from 1844 to 1846, and there that he studied, at close quar ters, a great politician, Leopold L To ward 4 o’olaok the Pope gives his pri vate and public audiences, and the even ing hours are devoted to the reception of bishopa. Tnis long day over, Leo XI1L regains the solitude of Lis own closet. Then, at last, he is able to be gin work. Tall, thin, spare, with his pale and deeply lined face, the Pope usually has delicate health, of which be takes small rare. His austerity is extreme. The spiritual sovereign of 290,000,000 Catho lics does not spend 100 francs a month for his tabic. The energy of a strongly developed nervous system alone enables him to resist the fatiguo of his labor and vast responsibilities. At times those about him perceive a moment of exhans- tion and collapse; but a little happiness, a piece of good news, or a pleasant tele gram restores the hie of his worn frame: Suddenly well again, he takes up once more his heavy harden, and betakes himself to that work of reconciliation and peace-making to which he has de voted himself. He is always grave, or, rather, solemn, always the Pope. The Italians call his manners and surrounding ceremonious. Gravity is inherent in his nature, as those aver who have known him from his earliest jonth. He never abandons himself, laughs rarely. He might be thought stern did he not temper his severity by the patient attention with which he listens—without interraption— to all who speak to him. His audiences are far less frequent than were those of Pins IX., bat for that very reason they take np more time. He has not the brilliant side so noticeable in his pre decessor, the genial ease, the fine good humor which endured, notwithstanding the surprising vicissitudes of the last Pontificate, nor the frank, bold and genial speech, foil ot witty and happy words, thrown off in that sonorous voice wnich Pins IX. retained in his extreme old age. Leo XIII. is as slow of speech as the Archbishop of Paris, Bat if neither the Pope nor the Cardinal has received the orator’s gift each has been endowed with the author’s. Perhaps this similarity explains the special sym pathy and esteem which the Pope en tertains toward Mgr. Guilbert. The pastorals in which the Archbis hop ol Perugia (this was Cardinal Peoot’s office before his election as Pope) was wont to demonstrate the harmony of faith and reason, of religion and mvili- zation, “growing like the flower and fruit from the root of Christianity,” were much noticed by Italian publicists. The priest loved to freat the questions of the day, and of modem society. The illustrious Bong hi raid os him, that this was “one of the most finely balanced and vigorous,of characters,” that he was “a man who had realized the idea of a Cardinal such as St, Bernard conceived it. ” Since the eighteenth century, since the time of Benedict XIV. and Clement XIV., Borne has not seen a Pope of so cultivated a mind, so accomplished in Latin and Tuscan verse, so familiar at once with classic and contemporary let ters. At the presant time, the two qnalities which Leo XIII. most prizes, and airaa must constantly in securing in his writings, are simplicity and modera tion. His letters, his encyclicals, all are submitted to the sacred college. Nothing is more admirable than the manner in which lie elicits opinions and weighs ol j actions He has been known to completely rewrite, after grave de bates, encyclicals which he had already completed. As he soffers from sleep lessness, it is generally in the night hours when he composes his most im mortal work. The Railroad Station Loafer. Of all loafers the railroad station loaf er is the most loaferishest. He is noisy, obtrusive, insolent. He sits down and compels the passenger, the patron of railroad to stand up. He kicks your valise as he peases it. He is never seen without a mouthful of tobacco, and he always expectorates in the direction either of your valise or your feet. He stands in your way at the ticket office, although he is never known to go any where. He looks over your shoulder at the telegraph window while you write a message. He spars and “re-stles’ ’with other hoodlums. He loudly calls the attention of his fellow-loafers to your personal appearance and ipakes “stage- aside” remarks for yon to hear as you pass by him, He is utterly useless, in finitely worthless and a wholesome nui saw* . When he is under 14 years of age he should be flogged and compelled to go to school; between the years of 14 and 21 he should be sent to the House of Correction or a reform School, and after reaching the age of 21 he should be hanged. Off with his head. So much for the loafer. The Cashier System. An Ohio merchant, who kept three clerks, each one of whom made his own change and had free access to the money drawers, was the other day asked by a commercial traveler why he did not keep a cashier to receive all moneya. “Oust too nmoh,” was the reply. “Bnt are your clerks honest?” “Perfectly honest” ‘ Hare you any objection to my frying them?" “Certainly not; go ahead in any way yon wish." r he traveler went away, but in abont tl.ee hoars he returned and said in a load voice so that all might bear: “When I was here this forenoon I paid yon a bogus quarter by mistake. In case yon find it in counting np to night, lay it aside and I’ll redeem it” Then tbe traveler, accompanied by the merchant, took position where tbe hack door and tbe alley could be kept la view, and in less than ten minntee out came the head o'erk and emptied a handful of silver on the head of a barrel and pawed it over. The bogus quarter was not there. He returned to the store and out came the second clerk and went through the oame program. He was followed by the third, and after he disappeared the merchant calmly ob served; ‘T’vo been waiting 18 years for trade, to pick np, and I rather think FU try the cashier system,” The si tmtion of parties in the. Arctic regions at the beginning of 1883 is abont as follows, as far as known: Of the Jeannette expedition, the remainder of the Original party were abont to begin their homeward journey, together with Ensign Hunt, of the Lodgers. At last accounts they were en route from Ir kutsk to Orenburg. Messrs. Barber and Schutze, of the navy, were expected at Irkutsk, in April, with the remains of De Long and his party, intending to start for home as soon as the caskets arrive L A bill haa been introduced into Congress to pension Mrs. De Long; and another to indemnify those who loet personal effects on the Arctic expedition of the Lodgers, and to reward the friendly nativee who preserved the lives of the party during the winter after tbe bnrning of the ship. Mr. Leigh Smith, of the Eira expedition, has presented the Geographical Society of London with £1,000, in recognition of its inter est in Arctic work. The Arctic expb ring ves ^l Dimina, commanded by Lieuten ant Hovgaard, of Nordenskiold’s party, bound for Cape Cheiioskin or Franz Josef Land, was beset in the Kara Sea, near Kara Strait, in tne latter part of August, Several propositions have been made to organ 1 ze an expedition for the purpose of communicating with her and with the Datoh international party on the Varna, also impeded by ice in the same vicinity. As nearly can be judged from rather confused telegrams which have been received, no relit 1 party has actually been organized, though oor- reepondenoe between the Danish and tha Dutch authorities ha^taken place, and the Danish Captain Nermann has visited St. Petersburg on that business. It bas been reported that Lararen, one of the Jeannette survivors, had been engaged to make the attempt, and the last news appears to be that nomads from the Petsohora riyer month report that the vessel was in good order, and had arrived from the coast of Novaia Zemlia to remain for the winter. The situation at the international polar stations for simultaneous meteoro- logioal and magnetic observations was favorable when last heard from, except in the case of the Novaia Zemlia parties. The Amerioan station at Lady Franklin Bay, the most northern and the first established ot all, haa not been nioated with, owing to ice in the northern part of Smith Sound; bnt being fully provisioned and equipped tor three years, tbe party are believed to be in good condition. The German station at K'ngava, Cumberland Inlet, wus successfully established in tbe autumn of 1882, under Dr. William Giese. Obse vatious are iu progress at Godhaab, in West Greenland, under Lieut. Paulsen’s direction. Dr. Snellen in the Varna, with the Dutch expedition which aimed at reaching Dickson Haven near the month of the Yenisei, reported boset in the K tra Sea, near Kara Strait, in the last week in August, will doubt less have established a station ou the land of Novaia Z emlia if not released by the end of the season. With or near them was the Danish Arotio expedition, on the Steamer Dimina commanded by Lient. Andreas Hivgaard, mentioned above. The Austrian expedition, com manded by E. v. Wohlgemuth, succeed ed in establishing its station by August 15, on the island of Jan Mayen, in a ravine on the southern slope of the Vogolberg, named Wilczek valley, after the promoter of the expedition. The latest data from the Lussian expedition to make a station at the month of the Lena was. that all was progressing favorably, and that the party, under the command of Lient. Jnergens, had reached its destination. Of the subsi diary station, projected by the imperial geographical society at Holler Biy, under the direction of Lient. Andreieff, no positive newt bas been received here; bnt it is asserted that they had reached and would whiter in Novaia Zemlia. The Furnish station on the shores of the White Sea began operations August 15. Mahlenberg, with the Swedish expedition, wore safely eatablirhsd at Wyde Bay, boitzbergen; while the ob servations of Steen, at Bosekop, near the North Ca ee ol Norway, hare been going on qniol ly for some time. Gapt. Dawson with his party were well cn their way toward Fort Lie, in the Hud son Bay territory, when last heard from. Tbe exact locality finally decided upon by the Anglo-Canadian party is not yet known. The United States party at Ugla-ami, near Point Barrow, Alaska, were visited and recruited daring the summer, and the first year's observa tions are already in the computer's hands; while simol tan ecus observations by self-registering instruments under the direction of Mr. Marcos Baker of the United States coast-survey, at Lra Angelos, California, are progressing favorably, and will be steadily main tained. Of the proposed subordinate stations at York Factory and in Labra dor, no recent information is at hand, thongb Dr. Koeh, charged with organ izing toe latter, is stated to have reached Labrador in August' The researches cf Masers. Riohet and Londean indicate that artificial respira tion may be a valuable agent in the re suscitation of persons who have been exposed to cold until life is nearly ex- Unote The typical Homan character, ear nest serious, analytic, and resolute, deliberate in council and in action, has not, in modem ages, been more sym metrically incarnated than in the person of the author of the Declaration of American Independence. In that, the most notable public document standing in the political history of the human race, Mr. Jefferson, in a few well- chosen words, embodied, as no one be fore him had ever done, the fundamental principles of human liberty—making, at once, them indelible and his own fame immortal. More fortunate than man} eminent lawgivers in their days, who had ancient errors, prejudices, and abases embodied in customs and ordinances and perhaps sanctioned by superstition, against which to contend, the lot of Mr. Jef ferson was cast in that which was strictly a formative period—a time when the organic basis of a nationality was to be prejared, too foundations of its civil polity laid, and the’elements of its political future determined. It was here that toe intellectual forces of a master spirit could be brought to bear more immediately upon toe integers of the situation and a more distinct im pression .of them produced. Probably no other man saw with the prophetic clearness of Mr. Jeffersan the great civil, political and material future in store for toe Caucasian race upon this continent, or was more impressed with the importance of so adapting toe in stitutions of the coming great common wealth as to allow the fullest freedom to the mental and physical powers and faculties of its constituents. Thus it is that we not only owe a debt to Mr. Jefferson, but owe it in such a manner that some mental esti mate of its nature and extent may lie obtained. The ideas of Mr. Jefferson, as embodied in the Declaration of Inde- liendence and elsewhere, were to the American what Magna Charta, at its period, was to the English people—a revelation. At th^ir utterance, as at a touch from the wand of a magican, the inner consciousness of man became and new thoughts were bom. pregnant Moreover breover, as these grew older, errors, fallacies and illusions, the relics of past misrule, passed out of their memories, and, like persons suddenly awakened, they cast their eyes around, first with inquiry and then with intelligence. To the people of toe emancipated colonies, Mr. Jefferson was the apostle of liber ty; and if his convictions had been al lowed to prevail unmixed and unadul terated, our institutions would have been more symmetrical, and toe future of the American people better assured. Mr. Jefferson was a man eminently adapted to toe time in which he lived; %mt broado* and maro floalhlo thou otoers, he was one capable of respond ing to toe demands of all times and cir- cumstances. A patriot and a statesman, resolute to resist encroachment and combat error; a philosopher sagacious to comprehend the profoundest of hu man nature, and a politician equally wise in counsel and in action, to for mulate and to execute, there is no pei- sonage known to American history to whom the title pater patriae more prop erly lielongs. Human liberty was the object of his unmixed devotion and of his untiring exertions; liberty pure and unadulterated—liberty without licen tiousness; perfect freedom of thought and action, subject only to such res traints as are in all countries, civilized and enlightened, demanded by consid erations of public policy, morals, and religion. Sulphur Fume*. Certain paragraphs are now being freely copied in the New York press in regard to the health-giving properties of sulphur fumes emanating from manu factories where particular chemical pro ducts are made. It is quite desirable, we are told, “to have sulphur fumes in the neighborhood,” and that such vapors ought to be regarded as blessings in disguise. According to the testimony of unbiased persons, ever since they have been living in the proximity of the es tablishment from which the fumes arise they have never suffered from coughs or colds. Some of these disinterested witnesses, persons suffering from pul monary diseases, we are informed, have moved to the sulphurous regions and have been benefited by toe change. But all this proves nothing, savd" that sul phur, when absorbed into the human system, shows certain effects. It is all very well, wlien a person has a cold in the head, to snuff sulphur fumes, and thereby receive some relief, for the pro perties of this substance are quite well known. It is quite probable, too, that if a man subject to a peculiar skin dis ease were to work in a sulphur factory his cure would be rapid. But it is a case where the cure might in time be worse than the disease. It is not a uestion of quality but of quantity, ulphurous acid in toe air—for in that condition it is always produced in quan tity when sulphur is burned—is not an innocuous substance, but very danger ous and corrosive, and is quite as de structive of animal tissue as sulphuric acid. There are innumerable substances which, if taken occasionally or in small doses, can do no harm, but when ab sorbed in a wholesale way, %nd for a long time, they simply kill. On* Button. The Emperor William invariably wears his military uniform when at home. His study overlook* the Unter den Linden. While at his writing table h* loosens toe upper buttons of bis dou ble-breasted coat and throws back toe lapels, but every day when the troops march past he hastily buttons his coat and stands in the window, in full view of toe soldiers. A visitor, noting the trouble he took, asked him why he vvas so particular to button even the top but ton of his coat. “My soldiers,” said toe Emperer, “ have never seen me with my coat unbuttoned, and I do not intend they ever shall. For, let me tell you, it is toe one button leh unbuttoned that is the ruin ot an army.” visa KV 'Jh ; ,