The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, August 28, 1883, Image 1
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.
WINNSBORO. S. 0.. AUGUST 23. 1883.
ESTABLISHED 1848
THE VERDICT
—or—
THE PEOPLE
BUY THE BEST!
Mr. J.O. BOAO-Dear Sir: I bought the first
Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago tor
my wife, who has given It a long and (air trial. I
am well pleased with It. It never Rives any
rouble, aud Is as good as when first bought.
J. W. HOUCK.
Wlnnaboro, S. C., April 1833.
Mr. Boaq: ton wish to know what I have to say
In regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three
f ears ago. I feel i can’t say too much in its favor,
made about S80,iK> within five monttis, at times
running it so fast that the needle would get per
fectly hot from (notion. I feel confident I could
not ha'
hot from (notion. I feel confident 1 could
ve done the name- work with as much ease
and so well with any other machine. No time lost
in adjusting attachments. The lightest running
machine 1 have ever treadled. Brother James and
Williams’ families are as much pleased with their
Davis Machines bought or you. I want no better
machine. As I said before, I don’t think too
much can be said for the Davis Machine.
Kespectfully,
Ellen Stevenson,
Fairfield County, April, 1883.
Mr. Boaq : My mschiue 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.
Mas. R. Millino.
Fairfield county, Apr!', 1883.
BOOM ENOUGH FOB ALL.
Mr. Boau: I bought a Davis vertical Feed
ew.ng Machine from yon four years ago, I am
slighted with It. It never has given me any
rouble, and has never been the least out of order.
It is as good as when I Urst bought it. I can
cheerfully recommend It.
Respectfully,
Mm-, m. J. Kirkland.
Montlcello, April 30, 1883.
This is to certify that I have been using a Davis
Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over tw lyears,
purchased of Mr. J. u. Hoag. 1 haven’t found it
p Msessed of any fault—all the attachments are so
simple. It nevenefuset to wont, aud is certainly
th? lightest running In the market. 1 consider It
a first class machine.
Very respectfully,
Minnie M.
Oakland, Fairfield county, S. C.
WiLLINUttAM.
Mr Boau : i am wen pieaseii in every particm
with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think
a flrsi-clas, machine tu every respect. Yon knsw
you sold several machines of tne same make to
difierent members of our families, all of whom,
as far aa I know, are well pleased with tbem.
Kespectfully,
Mrs. M. U. Moblet.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
This Isto certlty we have hal in constant usa
the Davis Machine bought of you about three years
ago. As we take In work, and have made the
pilceof It several times over, we don’t want any
better machine. It is always ready to do any kind
of work we nave to do. No puckering or skipping
stitches. We can only say we are well pleased
and wish no better machine,
CATHERINE WTLIE AND SISTER.
April 85,1888,
I have no fault to find with my mach ne, and
don’t want any better. I have mule the price of
U several times by taking la sewing. It Is always
ready to do lu work. I think It a first-class ma
chine. I feel I can t say too much for the Davis
Vertical Feed Machine.
Mrs. Thomas Smith.
Fairfield county, April, 1833.
Mr. J. O. Boau—Dear Sir: .It gives me mich
pleasure to testify to tue merits of the Davis Ver
tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of
you about five years ago. has been almost lu 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 have had it. Am well pleased
and don’t wish tor any better.
Yours tru’y,
robt. Crawford,
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 ns onboandeu satisfaction.
Very respectfully,
Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters]
Fairfield county, S. C„ Jan. 31,1883.
Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing
Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years
ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction In
every respect as a family machine, both for heavy
and light sewing, and never needed tns least re
pair In any way, I can cheerfully recommend It to
any one as a first-class machine in every particu
lar, and think It second to none. It Is one of the
simplest machines made; my children use it with
all ease. The attachments are more' easily ad
justed and It does a greater range of work by
means of its Vertloal Feed than any other ma
chine I have ever seen or used.
Mrs. Thomas owinos.
Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, 8. C.
Don’t crowd and push in the march of life,
Or tread on each others’s toes,
For the world at best, in its great unrest,
Is hard enough as it goes.
Oh, why should the strong oppress the wea^
Ua tt aj oaavruasa uaavj ouavrAAg Opj)F(
Till the latter go to the wall?
ours, with Us thorns and
g'
On this earth of
flowers,
There is room enough for all.
If a lagging brother falls behind
And drops from the toiling band,
If fear and doubt put his soul to rout, .
Then lend him a helping hand.
Cheer up his heart , ith vs ords of hope,
Nor reason the speech with gall;
In the great highway, on the busiest day,
There’s room enough for all.
If a man with the tread of a pioneer
Bteps out on your track ahead,
Don’t grudge his start with an envious
heart,
For the mightiest once were led.
But gird your loins for the coming day—
Let nothing your heart appall—
Catch up if you can with the forward man,
There is room enough for all.
And if, by doing your duty well,
You should get to lead the van.
Brand not your name with a deed of shame,
But come out an honest man.
Keep a bright look out on every side,
Till heeding the Master's call,
Your soul should go, from the world below,
Where there’s room enough for all.
We have had one of the Davis Machines about
four yean and have always found it ready to do all
kinda of won we have had occasion to da Can’t
aee tnat the machine is worn any, and works as
well aa when new.
Mas. W. J. Crawford,
Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield ooamy, 8. C.
My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma
chine bought of yon. She would not take doable
wnat sue gave for it. The machine has not
been out of order since she had it, and she can do
any kind of work on It.
Very Respectfully,
Jas. F. Free.
Montlcello, Fairfield county, 8. C.
The Davis Sewing Machine U almplv ■ treas
ure Mrs. J. A. uoodwtn.
Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10. 1883.
J.O Boau,
Agent—Dear Sir: My wife
has been using a Davla'Uewiag Machine cuostant-
. . — lt
ly for the paat four years, and It has never needed
any repairs an i worka Just aa well as when first
bought. She says U will do a greater range of
practical work and do it easier and befer than
any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully
recommend U as a Na 1 family machine,
Your tnuy, '
• Jas. Q - . Davis.
Wlnnsboro, S. C., Jan. 8, 1888.
Mr. Boao : I have always found my Davis Ma
chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc
casion to do. I cannot see that the machine la
worn a particle and It works ss wed aa when new.
Respectfully,
Mrs. K. C. uoodino.
Wlnnsboro, 8. c., April, 1888,
Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly using
i bought of yon about five years
: My w
the Davit Machine
ago. I have never regretted buyir,
always ready for any kind of family sewing, either
neavy or light. It Is never oat of fix or needing
repairs.
Very respectfully,
A. vs. Ladd.
Fairfield, A C., March, 1888.
TOO LATE.
How do you like her, Mac?”
Young Dr. Mac James looked up at
his cousin a second before answer
ing
‘‘My dear, if she were worth ten
thousand, I would marry her to-mor
row. She is a girl that ten years from
now will i-iake a mark, and will do
mnor even to a Mac James.”
His cousin, fair golden-haired Carrie,
was silent, and outside the door in the
mil Miriam had come, all unhearod in
icr slippered feet, but not unhearing,
and stood silent also.
She was not vain, so felt a strange
delight in this man’s words, cruel and
heartless as they were.
But she was proud and sensitive,
and her eyes flushed, and something of
he superb jiower that the heartless
ilacJames prophesied for her ten years
:ience, thrilled her as she stood there.
Then she shivered as she thought
iow easily she could have been won by
;his handsome, careless man had she
icen wealthy.
Won, but, alas! not loved.
She crept quietly away, wondering if
she could ever be anything to be proud
of, anything but a poor, badly-paid
school-teacher.
“I’m thirty to-day. “Once I should
:iave thought myself old at this age,
with the best of life past, and little be
fore me to enjoy. “But now I am
very happy, thankful, and content.”
Miriam Koscoe was looking across
;he blue sea waters, her hands resting
upon the railing of the balcony, her
calm, sweet face grave and thought
ful.
The people on the beach below looked
up at her, and marvelled at so much
beauty.
Every passer-by took a second gaze
at Miriam Roscoe.
“ Who is she?” asked William Mac
James of his friend, Jack Herbert.
“Miss Roscot.”
“Is that all there is to say of her?”
“No. I might talk all day of her,
and you would be just as little ac-
quailed.”
“What is this mystery about her?
You have not been quarreling with
her?”
“No, we are good friend v. I knew
; tour questions were prompted by mere
die curiosity, so I thought it better to
wait until you met her.”
“But who is she?”
“A lady who has won a fair fame
and unexpectedly inherited consider
able wealth. She has met trouble and
sorrow that would have crushed a
woman less brave and now from it
all she brings a nature so thoroughly
pure, that men are made better for bel
li ving.”
“She is wealthy and famous, you
say, and yet unmarried?”
“Yes, Mac, even an old maid, if you
like. “But no one ever th.nks of
that.”
Jack Herbert frowned, and there was
a ring of grave displeasure in his usu
ally sweet, strong voice.
This question angered him, even
when coming from a friend.
Dr. MacJames at his side, handsome,
fascinating, and worldly - minded,
turned again to look at the white-robed
figure, whose appearance in Newport
had caused so much fluttering among
the butterflies of fashion.
An hour later, as the two friends re
turned from their stroll, they saw Miss
Roscoe tightening the reins over her
high-stepping horses.
“By Jovel those are magnificent ani
mals!” exclaimed Dr. MacJames.
“Yes, and she handles them perfect'
ly, too.”
And Herbert’s dark eyes flashed, and
a wonderful light swept over his face
with the smile and bow he gave Miss
Roscoe, while she gave a glance at
both, but a smile to only one, as she
dashed by.
The fastidious man of fashion was
smitten.
That evening, at a party Jack Her
bert introduced her to hi& friend.
She rose,' smiling graciously,
thorough lady, with no pretence o:'
girlishness.
Her eyes were clear, brave, and ten
der, ber face - one that changed with
every thought, but was very pure aud.
true.
The. season was nearly over before
Dr. MacJames could summmon suffi
cient courage to meet his fate.
One night Miss Roscoe was standing
on the balcony listening to the ever
beautiful music of the ocean’s roar,
when Dr. MacJames found her there
looking, he said, like the picture of a
saint.
“Did you come to escape the crowd?
he asked.
“No. “Had the crowd been here,
' should have stayed. “1 love the sea so
’ much.”
I “But you neglect the pleasures of the
dance.”
: “I never dance,” she answered, “and
1 o no pleasures are missed.”
“I missed you, and searched until 1
found you here—dreaming.”
“Yes, dreaming—or rather, perhaps,
thinking of your past life.”
“Your past, like the glorious pres
ent, must oe good to remember.”
“1 was only thinking of the starting
point. “Shall we return?”
“Not unless you wish it, Miss Ros
coe, for I have wanted to see you alone,
but have not been able to. “You
must know what it is I have to tell
you, for uo man can be in the sunshine
of your presence without loving you.
“Oh, Miriam, I love youl Nay, love
is too cold a word to express my feel
ings. Will you be my wife, Miriam?”
Dr. MacJames was pale with the
great passion which had thrilled his
soul.
His eyes were burning and bright as
they searched her face for one tender
ook, and his hand, which had taken
hers, closed over it with a flerce, over
mastering grasp.
She was looking away across the sea.
Presently she turned and faced him.
Then, in the coldest tones, she
asked—
Is it myself, or my money, that you
would marry?”
All the scorn and subdued feelings
of twelve years rang out in that clear,
cold, but proud voice.
“Yourself! What care I for wealth?
Come to me penniless. 1 have wealth
enough for both, or I will work f »r
you. “Only tell me you will be
mine.”
Wait, Doctor MacJames, until I re-
»eat your words of twelve years ago.
set me show you how well I can re
member.
“You said of Miriam Roscoe, the
poor friendless school-teacher, “If she
were worth ten thousand, I would
marry her to-morrow!” “I am worth
lour times that now, and you come say
ing that you love me. “Had you said
so then, the poor girl would have be
lieved you, and Miriam Roscoe would
mve been your wife. “But—hear me—
am glad you did not say it, for when
crept away, after hearing your cut-
ng words to my friend—your cousin
Carrie—I determined to be ‘worthy a
MacJames.’ “Years ago, I should have
' nought your offer made to-night to be
tie best in the world. “Now I can on-
y say that I am sorry if you suffer
through caring for me.”
The sweet voice was silent; the
waves moaned and sobbed like some
doomed lost soul.
“Is there no hope?” he asked.
“None.”
“Oh, Miriam, can you not forgive
my youthful, foolish aud merceuary
words? Miriam, let me live for you,
and prove my love by that!”
Her face turned white as his, and a
look of pain came to her grave eyes.
Then softly, with a world of tender
ness in lier tone—
‘I can give you no hope, for I am
engaged to marry Mr. Herbert. We
have loved each other fora long time.”
A grasp for breath, and the strong
! )r. MacJames had fainted.
The love of bis life had come too
ate.
Jack Herbert led Miriam away from
the balcony, thinking that his friend
would recover quicker if he did not
awake to see the one he loved so inten
sely.
Herbert and Miriam were married
quietly the following day, and, as at
i rst, they still continue to walk in the
glory of perfect love.
A PsRail’s Blfe.
A Real Nice Girl.
emperor of
it power; yet
ly life, humbly
duty in his im-
of eleven he
and plain life
■spare diet and
•uhr says: “If
m virtue it is
it he was “as
Marcus Aurelius
Rome, intrusted with
he lived a singularly '
and patiently doing hi^
perial state. * At the
assumed the coarse di
of the Stoics, adopting!
scorning luxury. Nu
there is any sublime hi
his.” Lecky says tfi
uearly a perfectly virldous man as has
ever appeared upon oui world.” There
is a little book—a sort tof diaiy—which
Marcus Aurelius kept, in which he jott
ed down, in severely simple style, his
thoughts from day to day. His out
ward life, as emperor, soldier, citizen,
husband, father, was blameless; but it
was his inward or spiritual life revealed
iu these “meditation^ft^jRt makes him
so remarkable. He tiPeveulhat there
is a “divinity” in mail, a something
that calls him to holiness for its own
sake. He carried path/see, gentleness
and forgiveness of eneuMes to the ut
most limit. While lie was away from
Rome, defending its frontiers against
the barbarians, and camping amid the
malarious marshes of the Danube, he
found time at night, when the camp
was still, to set down sur.h thoughts as
these: “Begin the morning by saying
to tbyself, T shall meet with the busy
body, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceit
ful, envious, unsocial. A11 these things
happen to them by reason of their ig
norance of what is good and evil. But
I, who have seen the nature of the good
that it is beautiful, aud of the bad tliat
it is ugly, and the uature of him who
does wrong that it is akin to me, not
only of the same blood or seed, but tliat
it participates in the sartie intelligence
aud the same portion of ine divinity, I
can neither be injured by any of them,
nor can I be angry with my kinsman
nor hate him. ” There is a vast depth
of spiritual beauty here, if one will pon
der it well; aud yet this man rejected
Christianity, and, actuated by his sense
of duty to pagan Rome, persecuted
Christians. Again he writes: “Since
it is possible that you may dejiart from
life this very moment regulate every
act and thought accordingly; but to go
away from among men, if there be
gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for
gods will not involve thee in evil. But
if, indeed, the gods do not exist, or if
they have no concern about human af
fairs, what is it tame to live in a world
devoid of gods or devoid of provideuce?”
At another time he says: “ Wliat, then,
is tliat which is able to conduct a man?
One thing, aud only one—pliilosophy.
But thistonsists iu keeping the divin
ity within a man free from violence aud
unharmed, superior to pains and plea
sures, doing nothing without a purpose,
nor yet falsely and with hypocrisy, and
waiting for death with acheerfulmind,
that being nothing Uu^-v A dissolution
of the elements of which every human
being is compounded.” It would be
easy to multiply quotations, showing
the purity aud serenity of this pagan
soul, its loftv ideals of duty, and its
faith iu the divinity within the human
soul, even while it "doubts the existence
of the gods or the life beyond the grave,
But it may be seen that what he calls
philosophy is wliat other men have
called by the higher name of faith.
The “divinity within us” is a thing'to
be felt, but whose existence cauuot be
proven.
Shaving by I’lecemMl.
That’. Mel
He drove a policeman into a doorway
on Woodbridge street, Detroit, and
began:
“About two horns ago a cadaverous
wooden-head might have been seen
gawping at the river from the foot of
Randolph street. He didn’t know
enough to chew gum. That was me.”
“You, eh? Well?”
“Well, he gawped and gawped, and
he knew he had $20 in his pocket, and
he chuckled and tickled and said he
had come to town to' look around and
see things and go home and be a lion.
That was me again.”
“I see.”
“He jest fairly ached to have a bunko
man come up and slap him on the back
A Truly Strange Coincidence.
The Sorrow* of Sea Lion*.
“Speaking of strange coincidences,’
said Doothicker, “1 am reminded of a
thing thut happened to me once. I was
standing on the breakwater here in Chi
cago one day in the snmmer of 1842,
hen oue of my cuffs droppad off into
the lake and a big fish came up and
swallowed it. I mourned a good deal
over it, because the sleeve-button in
that cuff was made of gold that I dug
myself in Caliiornia in 1849. Well, time
ran along and I forgot all about the
sleeve-bntton. Soon after that I had
the tronble with my hair, and had to
doctor for that.”
“What trouble was that, paw?” asked
Throphilus.
Why, didn’t I ever tell you about
and call him Josepheus Basswood, and *ha»* Well, yon see 1 found ont that I
Ww pa and ma and the childfen all was losing my hair. It didn’t come out
I saw a girl come into a street car
the other day, though, who had, I was
ready to bet, made her own dress, and
iow nice she did look. She was one of
hose clean, trim girls you see uow and
hen. She was about 18 years old, and
» begin with, looked well-fed, healthy
and strong. She looked as though she
lad a good sensible mother at home.
Her face and neck and ears and her
lair were clean — absolutely clean.
How seldem you see that. There was
no powder, no paint on the smooth,
rounded cheek or firm dimpled chin;
none on the moist red lips; none on the
shell-tinted, but not too small ears;
none on the handsomely set neck—
rather broad behind, perhaps, but run
ning mighty prettily up into the tightly
corded hair. And the hair! It was ol'
light chestnut brown and glistened
with specks of gold as the sun shone on
it, and there was not a smear of oil or
pomatum or cosmetic on it; there was
not a spear astray about it, and not a
pin to be seen in it. As the girl came
in and took her seat, she cast an easy,
unembarrassed glance around the car,
from a weir opened gray eye, bright
with the inimitable light of “good con
dition,” such as you see in some hand
some young athletes who are “in train
ing.” There w r ere no tags and ends,
fringes, furbelows or fluttering ribbons
about her closely fitting but easy suit
of tweed, and, as she drew off one
glove to look in her purse for a small
coin for fare, I noticed that the gloves
were not new, but neither were they
old; they were simply well kept, like
the owner and their owner’s hand,
which was a solid hand, with plenty of
muscles between the tendons and with
strong but supple fingers. It would
have looked equally pretty fashioning a
pie in a home kitchen or folding a band
age in a hospitable. It was a hand
that suggested at the same time wo
manliness and work, and 1 was sorry
when it found a five-cent piece and had
been regloved. One foot was thrust
out a little upon the slats of the car
floor*—a foot in a good walking boot
that might have plashed through a rain
storm without fear of damp stockings
—and an eminently sensible boot on a
two and one-half foot with a high in
step, a small round heel, and a pretty
broad tread. The girl was a picture
from head to foot as she sat erect, dis
daining the support of the back of the
seat, but devoid of all appearance of
stiffness. Perhaps the whole outfit to
be seen, from hat to boots, did not cost
$40; but I have seen plenty of outfits
costing more than ten times or even
twenty times that, which did not look
one-tenth or even one-twentieth as
welL If our girls only knew the beauty
of mere simplicity, cleanliness and
health, and their fascination!
got along. He itched to have a three-
card monte man tickle him under the
chin and call him a red fox from Iona
County, and open up his little game.
His bones all screamed out for the man
with the bogus gold pieces, and he
drew down his left eye as he thought
how they’d take him for a hay-stack
and get sold. He was an infernal
idiot. That’s me!”
“Yes.”
“Well, as he was standing there and
feeling how sharp and cute aud cun
ning lie was, up comes a man who was
breathing hard and looking scart, and
says to me in a whisper: ‘You look like
a friend to the unfortunate. I can see
by the cut of your face that I can trust
you. 1 have wounded a man w ho in
sulted my wife, and I must skip to
Canada to escape arrest. I have no
money, but here is a hundred dollar
bond. Lend me $20 and keep the bond
until I see you.’ That is what he said.
The double-jiuted idiot from the coun
try took it all in like a boy gulping
down sulphur and ’lasses. That’s me
some more.”
“I’m listening.”
“The greenhorn was flattered and
tickled. He saw a chance to make $80
on tliat bond. The bomb-proof, back-
action, copper - riveted agricultural
peach-blossom figured as how he’d
caslt that bond to-morrow and skip,
and as how the man in .taste to reach
Canada would never find him, and as
how them $100 would buy a yoke of
oxen, and so he passed over his green
backs and pocketed the bond. Yes,
the bald-headed, cross-eyed, bow-legged
turnip patch did that very thing. That’s
me to a dot!”
“Is it possiblel”
“And here’s the bond—worthless!
And here I am—strapped! Aud some
where up town is the sharper—tickled
half to death at the way he played me!
Say?”
“Yes.”
“Hunt up a bom fool, catch a crank,
scare up a dude, bring 4n an old man
with a third wife, and boil ’em all
down and bag up the bones and call
the thing Josepheus Basswood! . That’s
me!”
And he walked off to find the plank
road running West, waiving the bogus
bonu with one hand and helping to
kick himself with the other. Half a
block away he halted and looked back,
and seeing the officer still there he gave
himself three kicks and shouted out in
a lonesome voice:
“Don’t you forget it—that’s me!”
* The White Heane.
A commercial drummer with several
heavy caues iu hand, panted into
Warth’s barber shop, adjoining the
State-street House, Trenton. One side
of his face had a several days’ growth
of whiskers while the other side was
perfectly smoth. He threw himself
into a chair. “Shave me,” he said
brusquely. The astouished barber be
gan to adjust a cloth mound bis neck,
looking at the drummer s face mean
while with eloquent curiosity. “Been
in the barber chair once this morning,
haven’t you?” queried the barber.
“Twice,” said the stranger, correcting
him. Once in “Philadelphia aud once
at Bristol. Got my fafie lathered in
Philadelphia and then saw I could not
make my train unless 1 started. Got
the barber to wipe off my face aud I
ran and got on just as the train was
moving. At Bristol I thought I’d have
time to do some business and get shav
ed and catch the next train. Got
through with my business, ran into a
barber shop, got lathered again, and
got half my face shaved, when I heard
the train coming. Jumped up and paid
the barber, and again had my face
wiped off, and struck for the depot aud
got the train just as it was moving.
People on the train looked at uie and
then turned away and whispered. They
thought I was an escaped lunatic. I
want a close shave please, and take
your time to it. I’m going to make up
for this belter skelter bustuess in the
morning. ” _
Leaf Photograph*.
A very pretty amusement, espec
ially for those who have Just completed
the study of botauy is the taking of
leaf photographs. One very simple pro
cess is this. At any druggist’s get an
ounce of bichromate of potassium. Put
this into a pint bottle of water. When
the solution becomes saturated—that is,
when the water has dissolved as much
as it will—pour off some of the liquid
into a shallow dish; on this float a piece
of ordinay writing paper until it is
thoroughly moistened. Let it become
dry in the dark. It should be a bright
yellow. On this put the leaf—under it
a piece of soft black cloth, and several
sheets of newspapers. Put these be
tween two pieces of glass (all of the
pieces the same size) and with spring
clothes pins fasten them together. Ex
pose to a bright sun, place the leaf so
that the rays will fall upon it as nearly
perpendicular as possible. In a few mo
ments it will begin to turn brown; but
it requires from half an hour to sever
al hours to produce a perfect print.
When it has become dark enough, take
it from the frame and put it into clear
water, which must be changed every
few minutes until the yellow part be
comes white. (Sometimes the leaf-vein-
ings will be quite distinct. By follow- (
ing these instructions it is scarcely pos-'
sible to fail, aud a little practice will
make perfect.
“Isn’t it pretty?” said a little old man
as he wheeled a baby carriage to
place where a reporter was sitting in
the park.
“It must be pretty,” said the report
er, looking into the carriage and seeing
a tiny creature, snugly nestling in a
downy nest, with its face covered with
a delicate lace veil.
The little old man was delighted, his
little old chin went twit-a-twit-a-twee,
and he chirped like a bird.
“They keep its face covered,” he said
with a sigh, “since the little white
hearse drove away from the house the
other day. But I——”
The Utile old man stopped and looked
all around with his little twinkling
eyes.
“I will show its face to you, sir, it’s
so very, very pretty.”
And the little old man’s chin again
went twit-a twit-a-twee.
“They will be angry,” be continued,
“but I’m so proud of its pretty face
that I must show it.”
Suddenly the little old man took the
lace that covered the baby’s face in his
trembling fingers, and the reporter pre
pared to burst into exclamations of de
light, even if the face should prove to be
the homeliest face in the world.
“Musn’t,” a little child said, coming
from behind the bushes aud seizing the
coat tail of the little man. “Daupa
musu’t.”
“The flies will annoy Rose,” a gentle
girl of 12 said, joining the group auc
carefully replaciug the lace.
Close observation showed a tear
trembling iu the girl’s eye as the little
old man wheeled away the carnage with
the little child dancing by his side.
“Oh, it’s such deception!” she ex
claimed, burying her face in her hand,
“Baby Rose died last week,” she con
tinued, “and we are afraid to tell grand
pa, as his mind is weak and she was his
idol, so we put a doll in the carriage
closely veiled, so he cannot see its face
and let him wheel it around. But it
so deceptive.
Just then the little old man paused,
left the little child with the carriage,
and came back to where the girl was
seated.
He put his face close to hers aud
whispered:
‘ What was it,” he asked “that they
carried away in tbe little white
hearse?”
The poor girl turned away her face,
“Flowers, she said; “only flowers,
grandpa.”
“I wonder,” the Uttle old man
mused, “why they all tdrn their faces
away when they tell me what they car
ried away in the little white hearse.”
Then he went to the carriage again
and chirped like the merry little old
man that he was.
“Flowers, only flowers,” the reporter
heard him murmur, as he wheeled the
doll away.
_ my
by the loots, but it seemed to be broken
off near my head, and yet, although I
lost cosiderable every uight, there never
was any loose hairs in the bed in the
moruing. 1 finally got a friend to sit up
and watch me one night, and in the
morning he explained tbe whole thing,
I had bitten it off and swallowed the
hair. ”
“But to get back to my first story.
One day about seven years after 1 lost
that cuff I won waikiug ou Manhattan
Bench, arm-in-arm with Mr. Seligman,
when he picked up something that was
buried in the laud. ‘Why, that’s silver,’
said he. ‘Bo it is,’ said I, ani sure
enough it was solil silver. But what is
funnier, it was the identical sleeve-but
ton I had lost thirteen years before iu
Lake Miehigau. Now, what puzzles me
is to know how that fish got way around
to Ma ihatton Beach troir Caicaaro.”
There was a short silence, whieh The-
oplnlus interrupted. “What puzzles
me, paw, is how the fish chauged a .■.old
sleeve-button into a silver oue.”
Doofflioker thought be heard oue ot
the hens cackle aud went out to see if
she had laid au egg.
Coral F'ibIiIuk.
The largest vessels employed in the
coral fishery on the Italian coast are of
about fourteen tons, and employ a
dozen hands. They have to work night
and day, the men relieving each other
every six hours. They fish from March
October, and their food consists
chiefly of macaroni and biscuit. Each
loat makes from 300 to 900 pounds,
according to its size. The coral is usu
ally found attached to rocks, never iu
mud, nor in muddy waters. The coral
rock is formed of different species of
madrepores. Sometimes it is also found
attached to shell and other marine ob-
, ects. It spreads out its brandies in all
directions, attaining a height of about
a foot and the thickness of about au
inch.
This mode of fishing coral is very
primitive and might be improved with
idvantage. A frame, consisting of two
jars of wood or iron, about fifteen feet
in length, placed across each other, is
weighted in tiie middle with a large
stone. This frame is hung with tangles
of hemp aud nets, one of which is at
tached to each of the four extremities
of the crossbar frame. This is then let
down by means of a thick rope onto the
coral bed and is dragged backward and
forward till the coral brandies are en
tangled in it. The rope is then attached
to a windlass, and the frame is thus
brought heavily to the surface. Pre
cious coral varies iu color from a deep
red to a pale pink. It is also sometimes
marbled black and white; aud there is
even black and white coral. Red coral
was once the most esteemed, uow a del
icate pink is the most valued. The
fiuest piuk coral is worth from $400 to
$000 per ounce; while ord/uary red co
ral may be had for $10 per ounce.
Good Advice to Young 1’aniona.
lere’s
assure you
“Here’s Captain Eastman just come
in the office to sell us a couple of 600-
pound sea lions. Come in and see him.”
said the keeper of a collection of curios
ities in San Francisco.
Captain Eastman was found to be a
gigantic man, with a sun-peeled nose
aud a beard like the Ancient Mar
iner’s.
“Where were your sea lions caught?”
asked the Marshall.
“On the Farallones,” replied the
Captain. We caught four; two of them
I’ve sent on to Baltimore and the other
two are now at the bulkhead.”
“How do you cetch them?”
“We lasso them below the flippers as
tb#y He on the rocks and then put
them ip a strait-jacket, and
some fun doing that I ‘'
now. ”
“We are not doing much in sea-
lions now,’’said Marshall; it’s a losing
game; and here’s Mr. Roop, our ‘animal
man, who can tell you why.”
As Benjamin Roop, the keeper of the
Woodward’s Gardens menagerie, has
been in the business for twenty-seven
years, it was imagined that he would
be able to furnish some other informa
tion thau that on sea-lions. The idea
was mooted and he said he thought
so.
“You see,” he continued, leaning
over the railing of the duck pond,
“some years ago Mr. Woodward was
taken with tiie fever for raising sea
lions, thinking there was a fortune iu
it. There was no money hi it by buy
ing and seiling them, so we tried rear
ing; but ‘twas no good aud I’m ready
to-day to pay any one $250 who will
teach me how to rear a sea lion in cap
tivity. We got them when they were
about two years old and, with a good
deal of care, managed to keep one
hardy old ciiap six years and five
monthu, The young ones want some
thing from the sea that we can’t fur
nish. 1 used to think they died be
cause they were in fresh water, but l
saw tiie experiment of salt water tanks
tried iu Portland. Or, aud they died
just the same. You’d be astonished,,
in fact, to fiud how tender all of this
tribe get when they lose their freedom.
See that seal there, for instauce. That’s
the seal of commerce, and the only one
we’ve managed to keep out of I don’t
know how many. The durned boys
are always throwing gravel at him. If
he’s on the shore they chuck stones at
him to make him swim, and if he’s
swimming they worry him until he
flops up ou shore.
The other day some little wretch
bliuded his left eye with gravel, and
since then he’s been getting thinner
and thinner. I ’spose he’ll die. The
most troublesome thing of all to keep,
however, is a coot. That’s a coot; that
spotted bird setting down there. We
can keep a coot just as long as he’s got
fat enough of his own to live upon.
The critters won’t feed, aud when
their own reservoir of fat is gone they
just dies.”
The Wile Match,
1 want you to De manly. I don’t like
“sporting” preacher. I don’t think
you need boxing gloves in your room,
and your presence at the horse-race isn’t
an absolute necessity. The world ex
pects you to live on a higher plane of
morality than the rest of us. But I
don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to
throw a fly into a trout brook without
wrapping yourself and two or three al
der bushes up in your line. I don’t see
why you may not play base ball as well as
croquet or lawn teunis. 1 think you
might play cricket it you have a few
weeks you can span for tliat purpose
I consider it a most excellent game to
develop a man’s patience and build up
a habit of long-suffering endurance. 1
have never seen a game played clear
through. I am too young. If you be
come addicted to croquet, however, re
member to what an undue indulgence
in tliis fascinating game may lead. It
requires a great deal of grace to play a
game of croquet without cheating some
and quarreling a little. Especially after
the evening beg ns to grow dark. But
if you enjoy any of these games, put on
a soft felt hat and play. Don’t attempt
to play base ball in a stove-pipe hat.
Don’t be too dignified. Rigidity isn’t
dignity. The wooden Indian who
stands before the cigar store never
laughs. But lie isn’t majestic and he
isn’t dignified, by a long chalk. Don’t
be a wooden Indian. Better be a live
wild oue, hair, paint, grease, dirt and
all. I wouln’t carry a pistol in my hip
pocket if I were you; but if you have a
gun and love to shoot, a day in the
marsh or on the meadows may infuse
new life in your sermons. I hunt a
great deal, both in and out of game
seasou. I used to carry a gun with me.
But it was heavy and a trouble to carry
it, aud I was always leaving tbe caps or
wetting the powder, so I gave the gun
away. I shoot just as much game with
out it, I think, as I used to bring down
with it, and have just as good a- * time.
So can you.
Plain, straightforward morality and
every-day righteousness are better than
-all emotion and dogmatism and all
churchism, says the world, and Chris
tianity says much the same; but plain
straightforward righteousness and
every-day morality come more surely
when a man is keeping elose to Christ.
—The number of sheep in New Mex
ico is reported to have increased from
10,000,000 in 1880 to 20,000,000 at the
•' present time.
The defeat of the American Rifle
Team by the British volunteers was
expected, and the slight lead they ob
tained in the first day's shooting did
not awaken hopes of a different result,
among rifiemeu, at least. They were
believed to be stronger than the British
riflemen at the shorter ranges, buc
were known to be weaker at the long
ranges. The result of the match was,
indeed, rather gratifying than other
wise. The Americans did much bet
ter thau a year ago, notwithstanding
the bad weather. The most difficult
range that was shot over is the 200
yard, where the riflemen are required
to shoot from a standing position at an
eight inch bull’s eye. At tiie longer
ra iges the bull’s <3ye is much larger,
and lying down positions may be as
sumed which give greater steadiness
At the 200 yard range, the Americans
led and beat their score of last year,
the British team just holding its own.
At the 500-yard Tange the Americans
fell off three points and the British two
points, as compared with last year. At
600 yards the Americans gained six and
the British one over last year. The
weather of the second day was evident
ly very bad, the scores of both teams
falling off at all but the 800-yard range,
where the Americans gaineu so largely
as to beat the Volunteers. The net
result of the match was that the Amer
icans gained 101 points over last year,
while the British lost 24 points. As
suming that the latter’s loss may be
ascribed to the bad shooting weather,
the American gain is relatively greater
than that shown by the figures. From
this point of view they can be said to
have done very well, although they
were beaten. The match was with
military rilles, under military rules,
and probably the chief reason for the
superiority of the British marksmen
is that they have been practicing for
several years with the weapons they
used, while the Americans are armed
with new guns, made for the match,
with which they have had less than one
year’s practice.
Quick as Lightning.
This is a phrase cuosen to illustrate
an inconceivable rapidity, but of those
who use the expression probably very
few appreciate its full meaning, for Sir
Charles Wheatstone has shown that a
flash of lightning lasts less than a mil
lionth part of a second. Tiiis is vastly
more rapid than our conception of the
flash, and at least one-tenth of a second
must elapse—according to Professor
Swan—before our sluggish sight can
take in tiie full effect of the light. On
account of the slowness of our percep
tion, we never see the light at its real
intensity. Professor Tail uas suggested
that the full brilliancy must be in somo
degree comparable with the sun, as
Wheatstone’s and Swan’s data prove
that its apparent brightness of the land
scape as lit up by a lightning flash is
less than one-hundred-thousandth part
of what it would be were the lightning
permanent. The apparent brightness,
it should be mentioned, was shown by
Swan to diminish in about the ratio
borne by the length of time the flash
lasts to tbe time required for us to per*
ceive it
1
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