The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, June 23, 1883, Image 1
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.
WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JUNE 23. 1883.
ESTABLISHED 1848
THE VERDICT
—or—
THE PEOPLE
BUY THE BEST!
Mb. J. 0. Boao—Dear Sir: I bought the drat
Davie Machine Hold by you over five years ago for
my wife, who has given it a long and fair trial. I
am well pleased with It. It never stives any
rouble, and is as good as when drat bought.
J. W. UOI.ICK.
Wlnnsboro, S. C., Apr!. 1888.
Mb. Uoag : You wish to Know wnat I have to
say tn regard to the Davis Machine bought of you
three years ago. I feel I can’t say too much In Its
favor. I made about <80.08 within Ove months, at
times running it so fast that the needle would
r ;t perfectly hot from friction. I feel conhdent
could not have done the same work with as much
ease and so well with any other machine. No
time lost in adjusting attachments. Tne lightest
running machine I have ever treadled. Brother
James and William's families are as much pleased
with their Davis Mach.nes bought of you. I want
no belter machine. As 1 said before, I don’t
think too much can be sakl for the Dav.s Machine
Kespectfully,
Em.kn Stivenson.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
Mb. Boao : My machine gives me perfect satis -
faction I find no fault with it. The attachments
are so simple. I wish for no better than the Davis
Vertical Feed.
Respectfully.
Mbs. R. Milluto.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
Mr. Boau: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed
Hewing Machine from you four years ago. I am
delighted with it. It never has given me any
trouole, an l has never been the least out of order.
It Is as good as when I first booght it. I can
cheerfully recommend It.
Respectfully,
Mp . M. J. Kirkland.
Monticello, April 30, 1 83.
This Is to certify that I have been using a Davis
Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over iw > years,
purchased of Mr. J. O. boag. I haven’t found it
possessed of any fanlt—all the attachments are so
simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly
the lightest running in the market. I consider It
a first class machine.
Very respectfully,
Minnie M.
Oakland, Fairfield county, 8. C.
Wiixinuuar.
Mr Boao : t am wen pieasea in every particular
with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think It
a first-Ciass machine In every reaped. Yon know
you sold several machines of the same make to
different members of our families, all of whom,
as far as I know, are well pleased with them.
Respectfully,
Mrs. M. H. Moblet.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
Thla latocnrtify w> have had In constant use
the Davis Machine bought of you about i uree years
ago. As we take in work, and have made the
K lee of it several times over, we don’t want any
tier machine. It is always ready to do any kind
of work we nave to do. No pnckerlngor skipping
stitches. We can only say we are well pleased
and wish no better machine,
Catherine Wvlie and Sister.
Apfil 21,1883,
I have no fault to find with my raach ne, and
don’t want any better. I have m tde the price of
it several times by taking In sewing. It Is always
ready to do Its work. I think It a first-class ma
chine. I feel I can t say too mnch for the Davis
Vertical Feed Machine.
Mrs. Thomas Smith.
Fait field county, April, 1383.
H gives me much
Its of t
Mb. .1. O. Boao—Dear Sir:
pleasure to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver
tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of
you about five years ago. has been almost In con
stant use ever since that time. I cannot see that
It Is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for
repairs since we nave had it Am well pleased
and don’t wish tor any better.
Yonrs tru'y,
Robt. Cr vwford,
Granite Quarry, near Wlnnsboro, S. C.
We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing
Machine for the last five years. We would not
have any other make at any price. The machine
has given us unbounded satisfaction. *
Very respectfully,
Mrs. W. K. Turner and DauohtekeI
Fairfield county, s. C., Jan. Si, 1888.
Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing
Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years
ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction tn
everr respect as a family machine, both for heavy
andllgbtsewing, and never needed the least re
pair In any way, I can cheerfully recommend It to
any one as a first-class machine In even' particu
lar, and think It seeond to none. It Is one of the
simplest machines made; ray children use It wltn
all ease. The attachments are more easily ad
justed aud it does a greater range of work by
means of its Vertical Feed than any other-ma
chine I have ever seen or used.
Mrs. Thomas Owings.
Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, 8. C.
We have had one of the Davis Machines about
four years and have always found It ready to do all
kinds of work we have had occasion to da Can’t
see that the machine is worn any, and works as
well as wnen new.
Mrs. W. J. Crawford,
Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield county, 3. C.
My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma
chine bonght of yon. She would not take double
wnat she gave for It. The machine has not
been out of order since she had It, and ahe can do
any kind of work on It,
Very Respectfully,
Jas. F. Free.
Monticello, Fairfield county, 8. C.
EVENING SONG.
Sleep, my baby, sweetly sleep; •
trod the Father thee will keep;
Quickly now thy eyelids close,
Softly, peacefully repose.
All without, in winds of night,
Sway the lilies tall and white;
Far above thee, to and fro,
Move the angels, white as snow.
Come, ye angels, bright and blest,
Soothe my little one to rest;
Sway his heart and move his mind
As the lilies in the wind.
Sleep, my hahy, sweetly sleep;
Qod the Father thee will keep;
For his angels guards shall spread
Bhelt’ring wings above thy bed.
MISS BENCE’S BRITISH LOVER.
The Davis Sewing Machine Is simplv a treas
ure Mrs. J. a. goouwyn.
Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, 1888.
J,0 Boao, Bsa., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife
has been using a Davis Sewing Machine constant
ly for the past four years, and it baa never needed
any repairs an i works Just as well as when first
bought. She says It will do a greater range of
practical work »nd do it easier and bet’er than
any machine she has ever need. We cheerfully
recommend it as a No. 1 family machine,
“ 1 oar tru.y,
Jas. q. Davis.
Wlnnsboro, 8. C., Jan. S, 1883.
I have always found my Davis Mo
ot to work I have had oc-
Mb. Boao :
chine ready do all kinds oi
•ciuiontodo. I c ianot see that the machine Is
worn a particle and it works u wed as when new.
Respectfn ly,
Mrs. R. C. Goodino.
Wlnnsboro, S. C., April, 1888,
Mr. Boao : My wife hae been constantly using
the Davis Machine bought of jon about nve years
asm. I have never regretted boring it, aa it is
always ready for any kind of famUy sewing, either
heavy or light. It le never oat of fix or needing
- repair*.
Fairfield, S, O., March, 1888.
It was on a lovely morning in May
that a very dapper young gentleman
stood leaning against a tree in the woods
that then as now, topped the rock-hilled
Palisades overlooking the lordly Hud
son. He was attired in all the bravery
of silk, and powdei and ruffles, and at
his feet lay half a dozen volumes on
which an army of ants were marching
with a directness of purpose that caused
great events in ant-land later on.
From the pose of this belaced young
gentleman and the care which he took
to adjust the ruffles over his waistband
as it dangled, the elbow leaning against
the tree, it was pretty evident that he
was waiting for one of that sex which
has ruled the world ever since Eve ate
that indigestible apple.
He was a handsome young man to
whom powder became handy, and like
most handsome youths was perfectly
aware of being a handsome youth.
“She comes,” he said bravely. “Pish!
I wish that my heart would not rap so
against my ribs, and I know I am becom
ing pale.”
The rustling of bushes aud brambles
announced an approach, and in acouplo
of seconds a bright, fair-haired, blue
eyed, rosy-cheecked, cherry-lipped
maiden stepped up to where the ant*
were marching over the books.
“lam a little late, George ” she said,
after half-a-dozen kisses had passed be
tween them, “but I couldn’t help it; for
a let of gentlemen came to see papa, and
I had to see after refreshments for man
and horse.”
“Company at the manor, Jac?”
“Not exactly company, George; but
you see, papa is very determined against
the iron rule of England, and 1 fear”—
here she dropped her voice—“there is
going to be rough work, for one of the
gentlemen spoke of raising a regiment,
and—”
“What nonsense, Jac! We are very
well off under British rule. There are
always people ready to complain—al
ways gnimbliug. Surely these gentry
do not dream of independence ir"
“And why not?” replied the girl al
most haughtily, her short upper lip curl
ing, her thin nost rils expanding.
“Stuff and nonsense, Jac?”
‘ ‘I don’t see why we should submit—”
“You little rebel,” he burst out, “I
must stop such seditious language.”
And he did so in that way which is
usual to lovers.
George L’Estrange was the son of Sir
Henry L’Estrange, an English gentle
man of birth, who had come over in the
capacity of secretary to the governor.
Having met a very beautiful young
lady, whom he espoused contrary to the
wishes of the old baronet in England,
who was as proud as he was careless. Sir
Henry settled in America where he made
a small fortune in the cultivation of
tobacco.
A friend, to whom he had loaned a
thousand pounds, having died and left a
property on the Hudson in lie* of the
cash, Sir Henry migrated to the
“Manor,” where he resided in good
style with his lady, one son, George, one
daughter, Jacqueline, and a numerous
routine of white and colored servants.
Adjoining the manor was the property
of Ephraim Bence, a worthy merchant
of Gotham, between whose only child
and George L’Estrange sprang up that
mutual, feverish delight commonly
known as love.
Mr. Bence did not at first oppose
George L’Estrange’s intimacy with his
daughter, but of late anti-British feel
ings bad become so intense that he
politely informed the young man if he
wished to avoid learning that which he
could not stomach, he would cease his
visits.
Every day the great spirit of independ
ence was engaged in upheaval and
George was compelled to take the hint
of the sturdy American.
•“We must meet elsewhere, darling,”
he said, and as the woods which separ
ated the two domains, and every path
way was known to the two lovers, a
particular beech tree was destined to
become their trysting place.
Insensibly but by degrees, Jacqueline
Bence felt the spirit of patriotism budd
ing in her fr^ah young heart, and at
length came a pang of sorrow that her
George could take no part in the great
work that was now so steadily progress
ing. George called her “rebel.” She
would retaliate by dubbing him
“tyrant.”
A few skirmishes and it was mutually
resolved never to refer to the subject of
independence, but somehow or other it
would crop out, when George’s tone was
one of insulting superiority, Jacqueline’s
that of insulting determination. On
these occasions they would vow never to
see each other more, and the girl would
return to her home, her eyes red with
weeping, and her heart sorer than her
eyes.
Mr. Bunce or.3 day summoned Jac
queline.
“My child,” he said, “you are Ameri
can bom and raised. So am I, so is your
mother. Now your blood is too good,
your heart is too honest, too honest to
let you act the part of treachery to your
country. You must give up this whipper-
snapper Britisher who has just captained
himself in order to drive us out of New
York. I am too feeble to tight, but I
can use pen, and tongue, and by Jove
so long as a faculty is leit, I’ll cry ‘No
surrender!”’
“I’ll see George,” she said.
L’Estrange met her by appointment
at »be old beech tree, "7t in silk and lace,
but in the bravery of the English imi-
form.
“Why did you put this on today?” she
asked.
“Why not?”
“To meet me?”
“Certainly. ’’
“George L’Estrange”—and her eyes
flashed, nostrils dilated—“this is an in
sult.”
He laughed.
“An insult,” she slowly repeated, as
she broke off a hazel switch, “and a
cowardly one—so cowardly that I needs
must notice it.” And so exasperated
was she, that she struck him two swift
blows across the face in rapid success
ion.
“Jac—the deuce,” he cried, as, blind
with pain, he put his hands to his face.
When he removed them she was gone.
“A rebel’s daughter!” he hissed, be
tween his clinched teeth. “So help me
heaven I I’ll pay her off for that with
interest 1”
A few months later, a party of red
coats, debouching from the woods that
crowned the palisades, inarched to the
Bence mansion and took possession of
it
Old Ephriam Bence was for defending
Hie place to the bitter end; but the more J
prudent counsel of wife, daughter, aud
such relatives as were stopping with him
prevailed and he witnessed the seizure
of his home and belongings with a
hatred that seemed almost unendur
able.
“So you are in command,” he cried,
as George L’Estrange—now a major in
the British service—swaggered into the
appartment.
“Oh, yes. Why should I not be?”
“And you came to swagger here?”
“A capital place to swagger it is too,”
observed the major, as he cooly threw
his legs across the arm of the sofa.
“You are a white-livered, cowardly
dog.”
“You are a very irascible old gentle
man.”
“If it was not for this cursed gout I’d
spit you like a lark?” roared the infu
riated old man.
“A very ancient figure of speech, my
friend. Where’s your daughter?”
“She is here!” cried a voice almost in
his ear as Jacqueline, pale, every nerve
quivering, stood before liim. In spite
of his braggadocio, the major yielded.
“Oh, you little rebel! you see, 1 come
here in command,” he laughed.
“Not to command a few men or a few
women.”
“We shall see Mistress Jacqueline.”
“If you had the courage of a gentle
man you would have flung your com
mission in the teeth of your general ere
stooping to set your foot across this
threshold, save as a protector.”
“Bah! Rebellion kills sentiment. I
am not the long-eared biped that I used
to be. You and I will have a good time
together here, and—”
“How dare you!” cried the girl, her
eyes flashing, “attempt but so much as
the familiarity of my given name, and I
will resent it as an insult.”
“Pshaw!” growled the major, as he
moved toward a window, in order to
conceal his mortification, for his lieu
tenant, Staleybridge, was standing by.
That night Major L’Estrange held
high revel in the old oaken dining-room
of the mansion. A captain of dragoons,
Oldham, the lieutenant and an ensign
banqueted with him.
They drank heavily, as was the fash
ion of that day, and after dinner com
menced to toast their respective sweet
hearts.
When it came the major's turn lie
hesitated.
The lieutenant, who owed him a
grudge, and loved him not, exclaimed:
“Why not toast the beauty who is now
under our roof?”
“A beauty under the roof?” roared
the dragoon. “Let’s trot her out!”
L’Estrange stood up.
“Here’s to Jacqueline, the prettiest
rebel in all America!” and drained the
goblet to the dregs.
“We must see her!” bellowed the dra
goon. “Send for her, major!”
L’Estrange was three parts drunk,
and a brutal idea flashed through hisbe-
muddled brain—that now would be a
good time to keep his vow in regard to
mying Jacqueline Bence for that blow.
“I’U send for her, by George!” he
cried.
To the servant who responded to the
ring he gravely said:
“I want to see Miss Bence for a
moment on business of importance—
importance mind!”
The young girl at first refused point
blank to appear, but ou a second and
third pressing message she resolved to
comply.
How beautiful she looked as she stood
glancing from one to another of those
drunken debauches!
“What is your business with me,
Major L’Estrange!” she slowly and
deliberately asked.'
“Come here,” he exclaimed
“I am here, sir! What- would you
have of me?”
“Do you recollect a blow you gave me
in the woods here on a certain summer’s
day?” he asked.
“Perfectly well, sir.”
“Then I mean to take twenty kisses
for it,” and he sprang to his feet. ,
At that instant the door was burst
open, and a body of Swift’s yeomanry,
led by Joe vVilson, a near neighbor, to
whom Bence had sent for succor, leaped
into the room, making prisoners of the
drunken revelers.
An hour later and the gallant major,
with his comrades in arms, were ou the
inarch as prisoners of war, past the very
beech tree where a few months previous
ly he had received the cut across the
face he so richly deserved.
Jacqueline married Joe Wilson, and
their descendants still flourisn in that
picturesque spot known as Englewood.
As for the L’Estranges, they were,
to use a slang phiase, “clean wiped
out.”
Georgia’* Mountain Men.
The Long*tone.
The Northeastern corner of the State
of Georgia, bordering upon South Caro
lina and Tenne^be, is so different from
the other portions of the State, both as
to4he rugged and mountainous surface
of the country aud the peculiar people
who dwell among the charming little
valleys, that it constitutes a little Switz
erland in itself. It is here in these spurs
of the Blue Bidge that the beautiful
cascade, Toccoa Falls, roars over the
precipice 180 feet and flows on through
a strip.of country that remains unchang
ed from the original home of the Chero
kee Indian. And it is here among the
picturesque hills,^ndvaljey8 that the
revenue officers » continual
series of scoutin(£g$jnpajgns against the
illicit distillers ofCbrn whisky or “moun
tain dew.”
Hidden in the Shadows of the rp r " 1r !-
tain in a country sparsely populated,
the moonshiner’s double-roomed log
house fronts a -mountain road that
might more accurately be termed a
trail. On a little branch or rivulet two
or three hundred yards away he selects
a desirable spot aud, without cleaning
away the overhanging shrubbery, plants
his boiler, worm and mash-tubs. With
his distillery thus constructed he trans
forms from fifty to two hundred bushels
of corn ipto whisky, according to tlie
patronage of neighbors of sympathetic
iniquity. If he can be so fortunate as
to evade the officers aud dispose of his
“dew” without detection he thinks he
has only exercised his right as an Amer
ican citizen. If he is captured and his
tempting fire-water destroyed he feels
that he has been outraged and curses
the laws that destroy his freedom of
action in disposing of his own property.
I asked one of these mountain men
why it was they persisted in distilling
their coni, ami lie, replied, “Darn it, be
cause that’s the only way to git rid of it,
I live fifty miles from a railroad market,
over a mountain road, and it's worth
the Qoro to haul it tliar.”
“Can’t you sell it nearer home?”
“ Yes, for about thirty cents a bushel. ’ ’
“But you haul your whisky over these
rough roads to market: don’t you?”
“Yes; biit see here, stranger,you ain’t
seed the pint. I can haul a hundred
dollars’ worth of whisky at a load, but
it pulls me like Old Harry to haul ten
dollars’ worth of corn. See?”
While these mountain men insist that
their peculiar surroundings justify them
in smuggling whisky and avoiding the
payment of tax which cuts off the profit,
the frequent capture of the moonshiners
and the severe penalties inflicted in case
of conviction has greatly reduced the
number within the past few years, and
it is only a question of time when they
will hare entirely bandoned the perilc-
AA»S fcS
One of these meh told me yesterday
his experience with revenu officers up in
Habersham county last February:
“One morning,” he said, “I took my
gun and went over to whar two neigh
bors were riimiin’ a still down on a
branch behind the mountain. When I
went into the still-house and set my gun
down at the door, I hadn’t been thar
ten minutes before two men jumped
from behind a clump of bushes; one of
’em grabbed my gun and the other told
us we were his prisenars. I saw he had
us. so we didn’t try to get away. When
I told him I didn’t have nothing to do
with the still, he let me off, but he broke
the boiler, poured out the whisky and
carried the two stillers off to Atlanta
and made ’em give bond, but I ain’t
never got my gun back yit.”
“Why are yon here at the trial to
day?”
“Cause 1 was subpoened to appear as
a witness, and I had to travel ’bout for
ty miles to get to tlie railroad. This is
the first time I ever was in Atlanta, and
I want to get away from this blasted
court bad.”
“Are there many moousbiners up
there?”
“Oodles of ’em. Them people will
make whisky on tlie sly, spite of Satan.
They raise plenty of corn and wheat,
but no cotton, aud our only chance to
make a little cash is to make two or
three barrels of whisky and haul it over
in South Carolina and sell it or keep it
for the country stores.”
“Don’t you think they will quit when
a few more get sent to jail for three or
four months in failure to pay the fine.”
“Ah, I dunno. Blamed if I ain’t
seed their wives stillin’ while their hus
bands were in jail.”
A good portion of the prisoner* who
are brought to Atlanta are cleared by
reason of insufficient evidence. Others
less fortunate, but usually not more
guilty, are sent up for three months or
fined a hundred dollars. If tlie offence
is repeated the sentence is imprisonment
n the goverment prisons.
While as a rule tlie revenue officers
make their arrests with little difficulty
after having dieoovered the prey, it
sometimes happens tliat moonshiners
iiave noticed their movements and stand
ready to resist. In one instance last
winter a skirmish occurred in which an
officer was wounded and a moonshiner,
named Hicks, was killed. The cases
In the parish of St. Mabyn, in East
Cornwall, England, and on the high
road from Bodmin to Camelford, is a
group of houses (one of them yet a
smith’s shop) known by the name of
Longstone. The curious traveler pass
ing by inquires the raison d'etre of
such a name, for there is no tall mono
lith, such as are not uncommon in
Cornwall, to be seen near it. The
reason is thus given: In lack of rec
ords, I may say “in the days of King
Arthur there lived in Cornwall” a
smith. This smith was a keen fellow,
who made and mended tlie plows and
harrow’s, shod the horses of his neigh-
■tors, and was generally serviceable.
He had also great skill in farriery and
in the general management and cure of
sick cattle. He could also extract foo-
stubbomest tooth, even if the jaw re
sisted 'aim sonis gyratiouij around the
anvil were required.
There »eeuis ever to have been iii
blood between devil and smith, teste
Dunstau and others, and so it was be
tween the fiend and the smith-farrier-
deutist of St. Mabyn. At night there
were many and fierce tiisputes between
them in the fimithy. The smith, as the
rustics tell, always got the advantage of
his adversary, and gave him better
than he brought. This success, kow-
ever, only fretteil old Nick and spurred
him on to further encounter. What
the exact matter of controversy on this
particular occasion was is not remem
bered, but it was agreed to settle it by
some wager, some trial of strength and
skill. A two-acre field was near, and
the smith challenged the devil to the
reaping of each his acre in the shortest
time. The match came off, and the
devil was beaten; for the smitli had
beforehand stealthily stuck here and
there over his opponent’s acre some
harrow tines or teeth.
The two started well, but soon the
strong swing of the fiend’s scythe was
being brought up frequently by some
obstruction, and as frequently required
the whetstone. The dexterous and
agile smith went on smoothly with his
acre,and was soon unmistakably gaining.
The devil, enraged at his certain dis
comfiture, hurled his whetstone at his
rival and fiew off. The whetstone,
thrown with great violence after sundry
whirls in the air, fell upright into tlie
soil to a great depth ? and there re
mained a witness agamt the evil one
for ages. The devil avoided the neigh
borhood while it stood. In an evil
hour tlie farmer at Treblethick near
set his heart upon tlie Longstone, for
there were gate posts and door posts to
be had out of it, and he threw it down.
Tliat night the enemy returned, and
has haunted the neighborhood ever
Unole Gordon’* Parcel.
Near one of our Atlantic seaports
there resides an old whaling captain
•commonly known as Uncle Gurdon.
To keep from getting rusty he made
his home on the river bank, where he
could keep a boat and fish or paddle
about as be liked. The place was
about five miles from the city, and as
occasion required Uncle Gurdon and
his wife would journey townward for
the purpose of shopping. Reaching
the city, the horse and wagon would be
left at the water trough on the Parade
and each would go in different direc
tions, canying their, bundles t» this
common receptacle, the first through
waiting for the other. On one of these
sliopping^exeursions Uncle Gurdon
inaijfr several trips toiJie vyagon, tinefirtg
each time tliat additions had been made
to the store of bundles—a sign that his
wife was busy. Having completed his
purchases, he unhitched his horse, and
the ferrylioat having arrived, climbed
into tlie wagon and drove on board.
While crossing the river one of his
acquaintances stepped up and asked
how lie w;is getting on.
“Well, I’m getting ou nicely, but I’m
bothered just now.
“Why, has anything gone wrong?”
“No, nothing special; but I came
down to do some shopping, and I’ve
forgotten a parcel I was to get,” and
the old gentleman scratched his head
in a perplexed manner.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry. You will
think of it next time,” said the neigh
bor; and tlie boat having reached the
landing, uncle Gurdon drove ashore
aud went on toward home.
When nearly’half way there he was
met by another friend, who stopi>ed to
have a chat.
“How do you do to-day, Uncle Gur
don?” he asked.
“Oh, nicely, nicely; though I’m ^ bit
worried just now.”
“Worried? What about?”
“Well, you see, I’ve been to town
shopping, and there’s a pared of some
kind that I’ve forgotten. I can’t think
what it is, and it bothers me,”
“Oh, never mind itl You will re
collect what it is before - yon go again.
By-the-way, Uncle Gurdon, how is
your wife?”
“Jerusalem!” cried Uncle Gurdon,
slapping his knee with great energy.
“It’s my wife tliat I’ve forgotten! She
went to town with me to do some
shopping, aud 1 was to wait for her. ’
And Uncle Gurdon turned around,
and went back to the ferry for the par
cel that he had left behind.
A Trader In Wild Animal*.
Six boxes of snakes were carted to the
Central Park Menagerie recently. Mr.
Carl Hagenbeck. the owner, of Ham -
burg, Germany, arrived on the Bremen
steamer Elbe. He is one of the largest
dealers in wild animals in the world,
and his zoological garden in Hamburg
is one of the chief attractions of that
city, and he says that it has contained
at one time or another a grater variety
of animals than any other one building
since the days of Noah’s ark. Mr.
Hagenbeck intends to stop in this coun
try only a fortnight. He will visit
Philadelphia, Washington, Cliicago, St.
Louis,Cincinnati, Buffalo and Niagara
Falls, see the vanous shows on exhibi
tion along the route, sell them what
they want, and buy from them what.
do not need, for ho rejjjv Kpo.’it’ ?
mentfgSrio^NlAfe!: as u.e jaugieii,«ii.i
forests to supply his zoological broker's
office with material. He said to a re
porter yesterday afternoon, in one of the
•Armor Irvf+c rS tH* 5 mnaonm Tzr\\ara ho
had retired to avoid the crowd. “If you
think tills is a laige menagerie I should
like to have you see mine. I have 80,000
square feet iu my garden and several
strong stone buildings all connected with
each other. In one I keep the carniv
orous animals in heavy iron cages.
Sometimes I have twenty lions there at
one time. In another I have my ele
phants, ostriches, dromedaries and ante
lopes. In another I keep my reptiles—
snakes, alligators and tlie like. In the
garden outside this building 1 have
What Sargary can do.
Antic* of a Nevada Spouting Spring.
When a farmer farms rightly his soil
is constantly growing better, his pas
tures thicker his fields cleaner, his wife
better-looking and ins own heart more
tender.
Uxgbouxd grain, should be led to
fowls at night, because it is alo wlj <
geited, and fills up the long interval be
tween sunset and morning better than
soft food.
recently oil trial before Judge McCoy,
in the United States District Court at
Atlanta, were largely those of illicit dis
tillers and the District Attorney,Emory
Speer, who will be remembered as the
dashing young Congressman who for
two terms represented the Independent
party of Georgia, did active service for
the goverment in prosecuting liis former
constituents. The moonshiner in court
and the witnesses who are summoned
from his county present an interesting
scene in the court room, which is ai
ways occupied by spectators watching
the processes and hearing their testi
mony. They all dress alike and the
favorite costume is a suit of browu jeans
breeches stuffed in high-topjied boots,
and a wide-brimmed hat resting upon a
mass of unshingled hair. They never
wear a detached collar or cravat. W hen
on the stand they speak boldly and seem
to great delight in annoying the at
torney by giving evasive answers,sharp
ened with that peculiar spices of wit
characteristic of the‘“Mountain Hoos-
ier.” The examination of witnesses
shows that in nearly every instauje the
amount of whisky involved is a few gai
uins, sometimes a jug full.
At times the springs at Steamboat de
velop geysers of a grand character. In
the spring of 18(»0 there was at Steam
boat a spring that spouted once in about
eight hours. This spring hail an open
ing about three feet iu diameter anil
some nine feet deep. It looked like a
small well. When quiet the bottom
seemed to be dry sand. Not a drop of
water was to be seen. An hour or two
before the spouting time of the spring
came on a commotion begjan to be seen.
rumbling was heard in the depths,
i;he ground for thirty feet above the ca
vity began shaking, and then boiling
water, forming and white as milk,
came up through the sand and urged
1,0ward the top of the well-like hole. It
would foam up to within two feet of
he top; then iu an instant there would
ie a back draft or suction, and the wa-
;er would all recede aud pass out of
sight through the sand. In half a
minute, however, it would return and
surge up to near tlie surface of the
ground. After three or four such up
ward charges there would be a tremend
ous rumbling and shaking of the earth,
wnen, in an instant, a column of water
three feet in diameter would be spouted
fifty feet into tlie air. With the water
wliich looked white as milk as it shot
up—came a vast deal of steam, which,
bursting out at the head of the column
of water, rolled away in volumes that
hid all the landscape in front. Appar
ently it was the y.ast amount of pent-up
steam that gave the column of water its
white apjiearauce. After spouting
steadily for an hour, the stream of wa
ter gradually lowered and became thin,
due mlid, which did not rise five feet
above the surface. In a few minutes
the flow of mud ceased, and then the
spring became dry and dead. This
spouting spring presently, through one
of its grand efforts, burst through into
an adjoining spring that had a large
crevice or cavity, and at once it ceased
to spout—it had found vent. After-
warel there broke out a spring some
three inches in diameter, which spouted
every three hours, throwing a column
of water some sixty feet into the air.
This was in 1863. In a short time,
however, this found some side vent or
cavity and ceased to spout. The wells
or holes that newly break out are, as a
rule, the ones that spout.
CooKlng Wine*.
A distinguished Frenchman, M
Scholl, breakfasting at home recently,
says, 1 tasted a dish of stewed kidneys
which I shall not soon forget. At the
third mouthful 1 stopjied. My palate
and lips were on tire. “What have you
put into this sauce?” I asked my cook.
“Sir, as I liad not the key of tlie cellar,
I bought a bottle of Ctrddis at the gro
cer’s for Ifr. 60c.” “Is there any
left?” “Yes, about half,” “Bring me
that Chablis?” “I poured a spoonful into
my glass,” continuesM. Scholl, “to taste
this new sort of wine. It had no taste.
There was ho trace even of raisins, nor
of brandy. But I burned my tongue
with it, and tliat horribly. I had the
stuff analyzed by a chemist. It was
merely water mixed with sulphuric
acid. The maker had not even gone to
the expense of a bunch of raisins or a
few drop* of alcohol. This compostion
is sold openly at 1 fr. 30c. a bottle,
under the name of Chablis superiew,"
What must inferior Chablis he?
The London Lancet, in publishing its
record of the progress of medicine in
its many departments during the last
year, gave some of the more prominent
points connected with surgery. Some
of the operations seem almost miracu-
ous, and were regarded as impossible
n-evious to actual experiment. No
region of the body is now considered
beyond the scope of surgery. Its most
marked triumphs relate te the internal
organs and cavities.
What has rendered the operations
comparatively safe is the use of antisep-
uics—fluids that prevent putrefaction in
he wounds. Hitherto carbolic acid
las been the chief agent used. But
this proved more or less dangerous—
sometimes fatally so—in other direc
tions. A much safer and equally effec
tive substitute has been found in what
s called eucalyptol, which is obtained
from the eucalyptus tree.
Abscesses of the liver have been freely
and successfully cut into and drained.
Large parts of the stomach Iiave beeu
cut out, including even the pylorus,
which is the more highly organized part
of the stomach tliat shuts in the food
until digestion is carried to a certain
extent, and then opens and pours it into
the intestines.
Entrances have been made through
tlie wells of the stomach for the regular
introduction of food in cases where the
sosopliagus (gullet) has l)een closed by
disease.
Two pieces embracing the entire cir
cumference, tlie one about three inches
in length, the other five, iiave been cut
out from the large intestine—the colon.
In.all such cases tlie divided parts are
brought together and sewed, the stitches
becoming soon absorbed after the heal
ing is complete.
Considerable progress has been made
towards ascertaining the exact spot
where the brain and nervous system
may tie affected, thus facilitating the
reaching of diseaae.
It has been found that bone can be
transplanted and aid iu the formation
of new bone; aud more wonderful still,
tliat sponge can be grafted into large
wounds, and be a porous support for
the granulations (tlie new flesh par
ticles) while they are filling the cavities.
The sponge is believed to be gradually
absorbed.
cages under cover, where I keep my
birds and little animal*. I have twenty-
four ostriches there now, four drome
daries, and a great variety of every
other kind of animals and birds.
“You think I am rather young to
have so extensive a business? 1 am 38
years old, aud began when I was 15.
My father was a large ttsli dealer. The
fisherman used to catch seals alive and
bring them to my father. Once some
one sold him a polar bear, which he
exhibited. That is how he came to
look into tlie business. In 1864, about
eleven years after the importation of
wild animals into Europe for show pur
poses* was attempted, an Italian named
Casanova brought over a large stock of
animals. He couldn’t sell them aud
couldn’t make much money out of ex
hibiting them. Seeing something iu
the business, my father and I made a ,
contract with Casanova to return to
Africa and have the animals captured,
and we would pay him so much per head.
That is the way it started. In 1870
Casanova and another Italian named
Migolotte. both animal agents, had ac
cumulated large stocks and got into a
quarrel. 1 went to Algiers and bought
them both out. I tbtek tliat was the
largest shipment ot amimrits ever made.
Among others it contained fifteen giraf-
tes, live elephants, an Arncan riiino-
Mounting a Carnal.
¥ ,• a
(ft
-I
ceros, six lions, seven leopards, thirty
hyenas, twenty boxes of monkeys and
twelve of birds, aud seventy-two Abys
sinian goats to furnish milk for the
young animals. The old animals are
killed when they cannot be taken alive
without loss of human life, and the
young one, if there are any, are se
cured, aud die little motherless brutes
had to be fed on goat’s milk. I have
agents in Nubia, on the Somale coast,
in Ceylon, at the Magellan straits iu
South America, in British America, and
two agents in Central India. When a
menagarie is sold out I buy the entire
stock. I have bought and sold the same
animals as many as five times. I send
my agents out into the forests to cap
ture the animals. I furnish them with
money to remain out six months or
longer, if necessary. I send my Nubia
meu out in September and they return
iu July. They hire a large number of
hamrans, or native hunters, who beat
the jungles and do the manual labor of
securing the prizes. They seek a suit
able locality, where they build a large
corral. They live in this and keep the
animals there until they are ready to
return to the coast. The return trip is
about the hardest part of the expedition.
It takes nearly two months, and the hot
sands of the Nubian Desert Lav j to be
crossed. Tue young animals have to be
carried on camels, aud the ostriches and,
large animals have to be led or carried.
It requires a host of camels to follow
the caravan and carry the provisions.
When our party omes back it usually
numbers ’200 men, aud twice that num
ber of beasts of prey and burden. From
the N ubian Desert they go to Cassala,
which is the headquarters of visitors in
that reigon. Thence they go to the Red
Sea and the Suez Canal, where the ani
mals and necessary attendants are ship
ped directly to Hamburg. From there
I distribute them all over the world. 1
send Louisiana alligators to New York,
African elephants to India and llamas
to Brazil. We capture our snakes by
building fires in the rocks where they
hide, and when they come out, attract
ed by the flames, they are caught in nets.
“If you will come down into the en
gine-room I will show you the largest
snakes you ever saw. I had twenty-
four boxes sent to America, containing
276. I have sold a number. Ten boxes
went to Philadelphia. These boxes
hold huge pythons, which were taken
at Sundabuuts, near Calcutta. ” In the
engine-room there were two large dry
goods boxes and a number of visitors.
Mr. Hugenbeck, armed with a stout
cudgel and a piece of carpet, raised the
lid of the larger box. There were five
of the largest snakes ever brought to
America. The largest was twenty teet
long and seven inches through. They
writhed around the box. coiling them
selves into innumerabie hard and double
Mounting a camel is not difficult, but
it has some sweet surprises for the no
vice. The camel lies upon the ground
with all his legs shut up uuder him like
a jack-knife. You seat yourself iu the
broad saddle, and cross your legs in
front of the pommel. Before you are
ready something like a private earth
quake starts under you. The camel
raises his hind quarters suddenly, and
throws you upon his neck, and before
you recover from that he straightens up
his knees and gives you a jerk over his kn "£ ^ discounted the alcoholic ser
unH vl.il* vm. nnt at all**rtam ^ roaliat.Q. effect. An inquisitive
observer stuck his head over the box
mark for
tail; and while you are not at all certain
what has happened, he begins to move
off with that dislocated walk which sets
you into a see-saw motion, weaving
backwards and forwards in the capa
cious saddle. Not having a hinged
back fit for this movements you lash
the beast with your koorbash to make
him change his gait. He is not loath
to do it, and at once starts into a lively i with rakea and IJocaT and viewed
trot, which sends you up a foot into the! box from a aafe distance. 1
air at every step, bolts you from side 8aake8 ^ not been fed for
to side, drives your back bone into your mon tbs
brain, and makes castanets of your teeth.
Capital exercise I W ben you have enough
of it you pull up aud humbly inquire
what is the heathen method of riding a
and preseuted a fine mark for tlie big
snake, who would have certainly disfig
ured his countenance if it Lad not beeu
hampered by its companions. It had to
be pounded on the head with a slick be-
! fore it would retire, and the timid mem
bers of the company armed themselves
'
■ - - '
wnai is me
^dromedary.
Jr possible, have the
bo arranged that the ’
be p'anted in the order
^fipen,
* . *... vv# U' v'vV d