Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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WINJS SBORQ, S. C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 11, 1885. ' " 1 he Heart ? ; Uver .Youn^. Tl'C honrt is yo'ir.ir, the.* hesrt over votintr. TfariJlin^ with rapturous emotions stilj, V.'h'-n Time his (Jinre of mu:iy years has suns:. As when the p'atlsome voice, from cave and -11 llanjr out in early youth. and many atlin.I J Ol' wild delight ra::? through each stainless The* heart is even younjr and takes its Sli Or joy, when in the robos of" aye 'tis drest, JBkt (>r on n mother's !x>so:a iinds its rest. ?j?i Time makes no v.-rink'es en it: it :'s fair |g& In the old man of three score years and ten | Shr As in the stripling, buoyant, free from care, {^P^g^ggiffnying to reach the riper years of men. The kiutrlv ea-r.'e boosts a sharper ken "When he has soared aloft for many years. ; liravJnsrthe sunshine, lightning, storm, as i when First his fvi-Vv r.;iil ccntendhnr fears. He rose, and scorned the depth where era? { appears. The locks may whiten 'neath the snows of j v a pre. An<r?nature fade upon the sijrhtlcss ball; Sound* sink to silence and no more engage The listless car. onee open to the call Of father, mother, sister, loved ones all: The blood still circles round a youthful heart, j Which, although conscious of its bitter 'thrall. Lives i,n its pleasant memories, to part, Frcm them, when life'&last deep foundations j start. Treat kindly, then, the old: for know that j thou. If heaven permit thee, may be such as they: And think, if 'neath long: years thou'rt called to bow And bear the locks cf venerable jrray. Thou'It hope to pass the evening: of thy stay Kind friends and tender relatives amonp: And when disease on thee his hand shall | And 'neat': death's touch thy nerves shall be U!:>iru:i;r. Then shalt thou mount and {sing, the heart is j N yoiiinr. The heart :s ever young. ==?r? 31Y A IN T'^Ol ISTAK E. I jja }_oima?<uni ?ome say I am prctis a self-evident fact, but dot'.; not airree about tlie Aunt Lena, for instance, can find not>?g attractive in my small face ami bi<K]}l!_:e eyes. which she says are out oi an prui^mou. She is pap.i's fisterj^&d almost young enough to be his daughter. There can be no question $s lscr good looks; everybody agrodS''that she is a magnilicently handsome woman. Her eyes arc large and dark, and her eyebrows ami eyelashes simply perfect. Those eyes would make a plain face charming, I am sure. Yes, my aunt has the advantage of mc in personal appearance, and 1 am ready to acknowlcdire the fact cheerfully. "vVi; are giving a <iance this evening, HHH90R:uintie. of coarse, will put me completely in the shade. But if I make a | few conquests she wiil be as jealous as if I could rival her in beauty. She thinks I ousrht to be still in the school room, but, fortunately for me, my j father and mother are not of this opin- j ion. She is looking superbly handsome in her silken draperies, and I gaze at her with involuntary ada.iration. As I glancc at her I become vaguely conscious that my father is piloting a stranger through the crowded rooms. It is a sm 11 affair, but our rooms \ are not large. / 1 have ju?t dismissed my lirst parthnf -M'nt tnitinor to hers. / which is the reason, perhaps, that, afI tor beio<s?u>tKoduced, the new comer t ashs me to give him the next dance. |I|l Godfrey Thornton is very pleasant, ^ and dances exquisitely. He is rather pale and th n, but I like his face so much. He is ages older than I, I dare say; but, in my own mind, I admit that he V is none ti:e worse for that \ Aunt looks at us curiously. I believe \ she thinks Mr. Thornton is paying me too much attention. He cannot read the expression of her large, sleepy, eyes; but I can, and I know she is wondering what a man of intellect can find to say to that little chit! "Your aunt is ery iianilscme," lie says abruptly. "Indeed she is," I answer with a smile: but?shall I confess it??for the lirst time in my life 1 foci a little bit envious of u?y aunt's beauty. And yet. although ho dance with her later in the evening, he shares his attentions so equally that ray aunt cannot boast of having made a conquest. He has been very nice, but nothing in his manner has betraye 1 the fact that he prefers Aunt Lena to me, as he must, ?f course. I can scarcely sleep that night; my mind is in such a tumult. He pressed my hand at parting, but he had been very cordial to my aunt. I remember, with a, foolish thrill, that cannot surely be jealousy. 1 am glad when morning comes, and after breakfast take up a shabby sunburnt hat and go into the garden. My aunt would not be see:: in such a hat for the world, and gi -ea me a glance (of great disapproval as I go out of the room. "You will be sorry some day for letting that <jii\ fritter her time away a' she does," I heard her say. "Her"foolish head was quite turned by the attention she re eiveu last night." I cannot disli.'igui i: what my mother says in return: but I fancy I hear I r gentle deprecating voice making excuses for me. papa aiding with his wife, as he always does, aii i turning Aunt l Lena's remarks to ridicule. He is fond of his sister, but equally fond of his little girl. If it were not I so, and my aunt Lena had the upper hand, my iife would be anything but a ibed of roses. There is an old apple-tree in the garden , and i sit down under it and close my eyes in delightful solitude. A few moments later X open them and spring up in confusion, for some instinct tells me I am no longer alone. Mr. Godfrey Thornton is looking at me with an expression of amusement in his face. "Good morning, Lera,M he says, taking" oil his hat and revealing his nobiv shaped head, which I cannot i help admiring, in spite of my annoy"Good morning," I answer rather shortly; "aunt is indoor.-?. "Thank you for the information," ho returns with a .s uile. "Why is she not ( in the garden on such a hot morniug?" j "Because she prefers to remain" in 1 the house." I say. "I am sorry to hear it," he tells me. j "Does she not love this pretty, old- | fashioned garden?or as it that she lias 30teething else to occupy her tiiuc?"' he j adds with a laugh, and sly glances at . my iale hands. "She might bring her work out here j li she liked," I say: but aunt does j not care much for ibis old-fashioned j garden/' "You do, though," he says, throwing j himself down on the ?:rass. "Yes, I do. indeed, I answer read- j ily; "for it is a ways full of simple How- j ers au tnc year round, and. l like flow- ] crs better than anything else in the world. It dees not matter what they J arc?crocuses, primroses, wallflowers, i roses, daffodils, geranium ?1 iovethem I all. Ix>ok at the roses now."' pointing to the masses of green lea'. es and sweet fragrant blos^m?. "Could anything be more beautiful?'' "I don't know.*' returned my visi ; tor. looking at me with a smile: "that is a matter of opinion. Your aunt, for instance, is belter worth looking at than those roses, even." "Why don't you go indoors and tell her so?" 1 cry rather pettishly. "I am sur.; she wilfbe pleased to hear you i say so. though, she knows it so well."' . " W.'.it I think TM1 1:iko voiir mlvicM* " [ lie says, rising from his recumbent po- 1 | silion; "but won't you give me a rose ] before I go?" You ran pick as many as you like." I return. "Our gardener is uot a des- ( pot, as you can see, by the way tiio ] lowers are :illo*cd to run wild." "But 1 only want one," he says, and does not oiler to pick it for himself. j "Here, then." 1 say, breaking oil a small and rather sickly-looking bud. 1 "You ean have this ii you like." Mo 1 if wilh SMiilo. :iiiil WililfS ^ away u.tii the rosebud in his hand. My ] face lltwhes as I luok after him, con- | scious that I have acted in a very silly ^ and childish manner. Why did I not ( give him one of the roses that are * blooming arouud:me in such profit ion? * I do not go indoors until it is time * ( for luncheon, and when, after washing my bands and putting 0:1 a clean collar " and lace cuffs, I go downstairs, I lind that 3I". Thornton is in the diningroom. sitting ut the tabic with the others. "Lena is always late.*' my aunt informs him with an indulgent smile. "Now, Sis, I won't h:ive you telling tales out of school," my father says. He always calls her "Sis," to distinguish her from me. She smiles serenely* nrirl in (!wf nrovnkinc wav of hers: "But it is true, though, Mr. Thorn- * ton. She is always late for everything." ' Even for her dinner." he returns; ? and she laughs at his silly joke. i think Mr. Thornton is a hateful * person, and I can't imagine how I could . have thought him nice last night. It ? was because he knew how to dan^s I j suppose. After luncheon, he asks aunt to walk j in the garden. ar;d as they are leaving , the room together, invites me to ac- ' com puny them. I am going to say No," when, meeting my auut's eyes, I sav "Yes" instead, out of azsrava tion. ' * It is no pleasure for mc to walk be- f side Mr. Thornton, while he addresses ^ all his conversation to my aunt; but as . she does not desire my company,. I feel = a certain kind of satisfaction in inilict- , ing it upon her. "You look like sisters," Mr. Thornton says, Middenlv turning to me. "How odd to ha\ e such a youthful , aunt!" . "I sometimes think Lena would like me better if I had the dignity of years ? upon me," observes my aunt with a ? smile. "What a wilderness this garden ^ is!" she adds, glancing round with her t gentle disapproval. "You like the geometrical style," ol> served Mr. Thornton; "candidly, I ; don't 1 like a garden that is a garden ^ all the year round." "So do I;" and I unbend a little, for I have been looking stiff and as unlike myself as it is possible to be for the last ton minutes. "What iu the world makes you look . so ill-tempered to-day?" Aunt Lena s vs. "My dear, you are cross enough v to drive Mr. Uhornton away." A> if this were a hint, Godfrey soon ^ after turns and leaves us, and she evidently believes she haispoken the truth. ! > 1 c T liim 4C T said before; but still, the idea that he should fly from my presence gives me ? more pain that I euro to acknowledge. # I resolve to avoid him for the future, j, and contrive to do so for the next few Q days. But he catches me one day just as I am crossing the iawn, and, ashestauds right iu the path, 1 ca~' possibly avoid him. "Where are you off to, my pretty ] maid?*'he says. j "What a hackneyed question!" I say, \ lowering my red parasol so that he j can't see my-face. ( "Well, then, to speak in the plain < language of everyday life, why do you ( run away from.me? What have I dene ( to offend you?" , "Vftth'no*. I am sure von oonld not do less, could you?" aud with a little ? bow I walk round him and-continue on t my way. ? A few days later my aunt comes to j my roo:u with a radiant fac.'. I am ? standing before my mirror b usJiiti r t out my rebellions locks, and she comes \ and stands jnst behind me, looking 2 over my shouider. c Well?"' 1 say, knowing what is com- j ing, and I hide my tell-tale face behind > cloud nf ?r?ir>rf>ifnl ho se it shieltis ma from my aunt's keen r eye s. ]; * -.Mr. Thornton has proposed." i congratulate you with all my ] in-art." t How uliblv the falsehood falls from <= nsyH,;-: * J Weil, I think I am rather lucky," ^ observes my aunt. '-lie is very well g oil*, your father tells me; and his con- t n?-'.i >ns!? he is conne ted with several s titled families, and he is very nice him- 2 _ M -.1 l.J, If iK.,4. ...X ? iiuus, us ij. ^ ucau uiiui" o thought. ^ "Yes," I say mechanically, trushing \ my liair with the regular ty of a ma- s chine, until my aunt leaves, when I i quickly lock the (ioor and fling myself r on the bed, notiu tears, but. with an t aching heart and dry, wide-open eyes, c Presently I get up and go on with niv 1 toilet. One must attend to the ordin- t ary dut'es of life if cne is broken-heart- 3 ed. 1 I am clad nf it. for inst as I have f made myself presentable, somebody knocks at the door. I open it, and in walks mother, looking so pale that I give a cry of surprise. "What is it?" I ask. "What has ^ happened? Father is all right?" in a v paroxysm of tears, for I saw him ride c ofi' at six in the morning on a spirited c horse that no one else would dare to r mount i "Your father i.s all right, child," ilia return^; "he is downstairs. He came back half an hour ago." "Then, what is it?"' i "My dear." savs mamm \ who is all of a tremble, "it is your aunt who is so hurt, so a-igry. t "Hut why?" I cry in unmitigated j surprise and bewilderment: "she seemed so happy a short time ago. What ] has happened to anger her?" i "She made a mistake," returns my j mother. "The letter that came this j morning was not for her. She ought j to have known it, too; for he would ] have addressed her as 'Miss Lena Ver- s non' not 'Miss Vernon.' You are the eldest daughter of the housfi." "Whom was it for, then?" I ask j "H'qc if -fr>r mo?1' ! . Yes, it was for me. He had loved j1 me all the time. I am a happy wo- j y man. indeed, when he clasps me in his j j arms and lcll> me so with his dear j a voice. <. \r~ ?. l t Tom!" ?>iji iiuui iiil? uttvi y sorry to say, but I do not parade my j. happiness before her. I am more mer cilul to her th:in she was to me in her brief moments of triumph. ? 1*0 The American Type. In an interesting article in the Current. W. A. C roll lit savs: Why is it that Americans?at least, New Yorkers?have lately fallen to mimicking whatever is English, I canQOt divine. A feu* years ago. Anglophobia prevailed here, anil whatever was English was carefully, perhaps too carefully avoided. But that tendency passed with the last generation. The aristocrats of Xew York?those tvho can live without work because their unfasluonawc granaiatners graobed?ape the English aristocracy as nearly as they can. Their youths are expected to marry no girl unless her father can make a substantial "settlement" of a regular annuity, English fashion. Our swell mimic wears his 3at ia tJie elevator because the English lo, and he is trying to learn to call hat vehicle a "lift." When he goes >ut m a carriage he never speaks of 'going to ride," but of "gfthig to irivc, though as a matter of fact* he loes ride, and (if he have a coachman) loes not drive. Half of our young men in our swelliom.paritltjioir .irah* in th^middle, wear English clothes, imitate English manners, use .English slang! cultivate English inflections of speech. .Meet these rouths in so ietv and you shall bear :hem allude to. the "nasty >\.eathcr" (-or, rather, the "na\ysiy weather,") the 'beastly walking." and the dcuccdly ;lever actor." i bey call their pantaoons "trousers," their vests, "weskuts." md some of them allude to the ladies' 'gowns." They are trying to be English all over. It is not neccssary. It is scarcely besoming. No A:i crican can have traveled in England without learning that ts people arc no whit superior to ours a bearing or in speecii. Moreover, :heir feeling of complacency often <:e>rives them of the power of changing or the better?that is, of learning. Hie nation that does not progress retrogrades. England is insular and prorincial. America is continental and cosmopolitan. Englishmen seldom change except by forgetting. Americans, during a century, havead'led hunIreds of needful words to the language. rVhat we ought to do is, not to drop rood words because the English do not ise them, but to hold* on to them, to ill up the awkward chinks of the com liUIl LUIJJJi.IV. Our language is sadly in need of new vords, to describe new things, new reations, new tendencies of thought: and he refined slang and common speech >f the United States constitute the chief ountain of its enrichment. Mr. Rosvell Smith of the Century Company, ells me, and I am glad to learn it, that he new dictionary will contain some tundreds, perhaps thousands, of new vords, notably Americanisms and proincialisms which, by their usefulness, lave vindicated tlieir right. This is an ixamplc of courage and discernment as veil as public spirit. Jt will not answer lor .fcngiisnmen to ibject that a new word cannot be adnitted as proper till they sec lit to adopt t. That day is gone byforever. They re outnumbered. and have ceased to I >e theollicial custodians of theconimon ongue. A majority of all Entrlishpcaking ]>eoj)le are now on the Western Continent; in another generation fcrcc-ouarters of them will be here: and o our progressive scholars ami expert hrlologisls is allotted the task of lenceforth guarding, improving, reinore: ng and fertilizing the language till t shall make its triumphant way round the world and become adapted o the needs of ail race? o: men. Tiventy-Seve:i Yens--. on His rack. In 1848. while han 15as.\ then L8 years old, \v::> l<> si pasture, 10w built upon i:: L:;ekpnrt. X. Y., hp felt a severe pain h: his riirht foot. II > las never been r.iiK; to discover what: jauscd the pain. lie bceanie lame, ind tried in every way to get et:rcd, ioing a little work in one place or an>ther until 18-07. Then, one joint after mother having become affected until ill were diseased, he was at last put on in invalid's movable bed. He has lever since left it. Until I860 he maniged to feed himself, but since then he las been led by others, ah jus joints ire firmly set ar.d immovable, and liough he cannot move any part of his )ody, and, of course, cannot chew at ill, his appetite is vigorous, and he ? A>HArif 1 r\ f ?-?-> 00 f cnol'inn* if: ;?ita u> giuai uv;a; ui ni^vu *v nto his throat in long slices. Ke can talk as well as ever, and is in intelligent and well-read man. He ead so constantly when he was first >edridden that he blinded himself, and sas not been able to see since 1869. 2is body is in such a singular condiion that it seems as if it was all one iolid bone. T. e fie h has wasted away I md his arms and legs arc very little j hicker than the bones beneath the 1 ikin. Yet the bones of the fingers of he right hand have disappeared, and ;o have all the bones of the left band md of all Iho tees. He weighs only eventy or eighty pounds, and any one vho can raise that weight can lift him >y putting one hand under his head md one under his heels, his body bens: as rigfid as if he were a lojr. His nuscles are said to be unatlected. hough useless, his heo.rt and all his >ther vital organs perfectly sound, and lis condition otherwise >uch as to lead K/i tr\ hf* will Wvp DlflTlV ^ ^^^ ^^ v ^4 A^ " v **w " """ 1 l/ rears longer. He docs not suffer pain low, as he used to do curly iu his afliction.?New York Sun. Too Two. They were walking together under a nmhrftllfl. .ind she liked him veil enough not to want a large spread >f alpaca. He was modest, and seemtd to be nervous, and she finally rej arkcd, very softly, and with a note of nterrogation: "Charlie?" "Yes, Fannie," he responded. "I'll carry the umbrella, if you'll let ne." "Oh, no, I can carry it/' "Yes, Charlie, but, you see, your arm ;akes u;> so mucn roo n mai one siueoi lie is oat in the wet." "I know that, Fannie, but what will ! do with my arm; won't it be in the vay just the same?'' don't know, Charlie. Gizs Clarke tlwavs knows what to do with his when le is"walking under an umbrella with * > r A-U Marv Maxim, ceoausc ..uarv iuiu juk so." x\jor Charlie! "Say, ma, how much of a fortune iave you got?'* Mamma?My child, hat isn't a subject for little people like ou to concern yourselves about. Vuighlcr?Oli, yes, ma, it is. There's irirl itj mv that's onlv seven, and lie was telling mc that she would bcrortii $0 ',000 when her pa and ma :ickcd the bucket.?l\iris Paper. f KINGS AND BANGLES. I j The Extraordinary Decorations Which Dandies arc Beginning to Display. Two men boarded a Broadway car j last night at Twenty-lirst street. Their ! faces have been familiar in the windows ; of the Union club for many years. One j of them is tall, rather corpulent, and rcd-faced, and the other is very similar, except that he isn't tall. They sat down stiffly, and looked with owl-like severity at the signs on the roof of the car until they arrived at Delrconico's, where they alighted. The taller of the I two wore three' rings on the third fiai ger of his left hand, one on the little | linger, and two additional rings on his j right hand. As he displayed them all I by resting his hands on his knees, the ! other passengers had a good opportunity for examining them. Of the three rings on his left hand, the upper one I was of plain silver, but square-edged. The second one was gold. A valuable diamond was set in it, flanked by a huge ruby on either side. The third ring was a wide band of gold with a I sapphire imbedded in it. There was a I seal ring on the little finger of tha? : hand. Of the two rings on his right j hand one was a heavily chased serpent with a diamond in the head and the other was a very thin and delicate plain gold ring. The fat hands of the other man were quite as profusely decorated, and he wore a plain silver bangle on his left wrist. The bangle was rivoted on. The spectacle of these two gorge ously bedecked and bcjeweled clubmen drew attention to the fact that the wearing of many linger rings has suddenly become very popular in New York. A jeweler who was subsequently spoken to about the matter said: "Ten men buy rings now where one bought them a year ago, and they are nearly all of the glove-ring pattern? that is, the stone is not set up from the ring, as i? the ease with solitaire diamond rings which ladies wear, but it is set in gold on a level with the surface of the ring, so he can draw on his gloves without removing his ring- The fashion came, as all such fashions do, from across the water. The Frenc-h dandies arc in the habit of wearing all sorts of "'""f tliQ moinnh' rvf hmnOr soil | mv* 4U^jv4iv; V* ? 0 veniers from some of their romance escapades. The fashion spread to England, where it flourished two or three years ago. It is 110 longer considered proper on the other side for men to wear a number of rings unless they are utterly valueless. I have seen men who were undoubtedly entitled to a leading position on the other side who wore five or six rings, the total value of which would not have exceeded $15. One would, perhaps, be a small shell rin<r bought for a shilling at some seaside resort, kept to commemorate a moonlight stroll, or perhaps something like that; another would be a plain ana narrow band of gold twisted from a bangle in a ball-i-oom; a third a little circlet from a child, niece, or sister, and soon throughout. -That sort of thing never looked vulgar on the other side, but over here it is likely to arrive at great : roportions, and the richer the man the more rings he wears." "What about the masculine bangle?" "I believe the duke of Beaufort started the fashion years ago, and it has been continued by a number of American a tors, dudes, and fools. It is of all affectations the most effeminate. I am glad to say we have only had three men who desired that sort of ornamenThe hnnfrln is nfiarlv alwavs of silver and without any embellishment. Two men who recently departed to different and remote quarters of the world came in not long ago and had bracelets riveted on their w.ists. They don't expect to meet again for years, so they indulged in this little bit of romance. That was the soiidest reason I ever heard of for the masculine bangle, and that wa n't very solid, either, when you come to look it squarely in the eye."? A'. Y. Sun. I 1^ -I ? Contrast. The sound of wheels and the tread of heavy feet upon the seldom-traveled by-path, beside which stood her cottage home, caused the farmer's wife to pause a moment in the open doorway to bestow a half-listless glance upon the scene without. Of the rare loveliness of the sight at that moment delighting the fine, aesthetic taste of the woman who occupied a luxurious ca-riage slowly moving past, this farmer's wife had not the least conception. The quaint old log house, Hanked with snug outbuildings, and embowered in overhangingforest-trees; the trimly swept walks, and garden gay with flowers; the barn-yard fowls lazily preening their feathers in the warm, sunlit air, while the doves idly circled about overhead; suggested to her dulled perceptions no such harmonious picture of restful, rural sim4"" ?? A f/\ fit/% nfv_lnr. pirfVJLJr , U3 UjJ^UUHJU ing stranger, but seemed rather, if thought of at all, as so many different objects of care, or fruits of too-well remembered hours of toil and hardship. Twenty years had come and gone since, as the bride of a pioneer, with high hope and cheerful courage, her feet had first crossed this threshold. In slow procession year had followed year, each bringing its moiety of change?a little more land reclaimed from the forest; an added granary; another child to the mother-arms, perhaps?but never one bringing surcease of toil, nor the least sweet morsel of comfort for the poor heart's ever-increasing burden of dearest hopes defer ICU.. iautu, v/UiUH uiu ??"u 1 middle-aged, she stood and looked on the fair, sweet woman before her,whose dainty attire and bearing of careless grace told of a life of culture and ease, with eyes from which the light of hope had departed, but into which there suddenly crept an expression of pained and puzzled questioning. Returning from its pleased surrey of the premises, the passer's glance rested upon the woman's form in the doorw.iv: rind. notm<? the troubled face. with quick, intuitive sympathy, she grasped its meaning. Her keenly-observant intelligence needed but this slight glimpse to comprehend how great was the contrast between this other woman's lot and her own. Yet over against her own life of wide freedom and pleasing activities, she saw another subjected to the soul-harrowing, benumbing influences of never ending toil and petty care; and over the pretty s ene as it slowly passed from view there seemed to fall a shad ow of gloom, while to her own face there came a reflection of the other's pain, as, with quivering lips she voiced the thought at that moment in the hearts of both: "Why this difference? Is it chance? Have we each had choscn for us a necessary part in the divine economy? Or, is life as surely wrecked by the burden of duties overdone, as it "is vain from duties undone?"?J Irs. L.Z. Lanphere, in The Current A Man Buried Alive. In the village of Chim-Long, where lliA ^Kiti nc-mikjemr! hoc a cl <if ifiT> the following sad event lately took j place: A man of 60 years of age was afflicted with leprosy, and lived :in the j hut within the village. The villagers i often urged the old man to remove his j hut outside the village, and live on the I hills, to prevent contamination, prom- : ising to always provide him with food. ! However, the leper did not wish to j leave -the village, nor dared his rela- , tivei press himlo do so. j* Ljttefy it happened that tne leper was lyinfcgsleep in his hut - His son came andp^rted to bring him something to eat^jpfelling Into the hut, he receiv cu ilijiu iaiuci. wisssfena gathering of the people, but no 6nc~ ventured to'go inside of the hut Sonjpsiones were thrown at the door to see Ir ihe man tookfany notice of it, and/is there was still no sign of life in the uHt, th* general conclusion was that lie "occupant was dead. Th^esolution was forthwith"" taken to M^he^eper "buried. Hissan^eofc* to a^oighibornig viflqge io engage coolies for digging a grave and carrying the corpse out. During.the absence of the son the elder of the village came to the i^scene, and learning how matters stociL boldlv onened the door and en tered the hut, when lo and behold it turned out that the leper had only enjoyed a sound sleep. However, the coolies had been engaged for a certain sum of money, and came along with the son, ready to do the.vwork which was required of them, or all events to receive the promised pap After some deliberation the villagers unanimously put it before the. lepjg: that as things had come to this pa? he had better makeup his mind andiallow the funeral of himself to go on.3 To this the unfortunate man consented, and took leave of his daughterin-law and two grand-children, enjoining upon her to feed the two pigs well and. also take care of the poultry. k. ovwl JOl UUi-LIil >V US ilU VV |;iUYiUUU o,u.\u. shroud redeemed from the pawn-shop. A fowl was killed and rice and pork provided as a farewell dinner for the leper. ifext morning very early the procession started from the hut. First came thercoffin, carried by the coolies, and behind it walked the leper to his grave, hisson and the elder bringing up the rear, carrying the shroud and the pot which contained the opium. Having mO'Ved up a hill to a distance of about twof miles from the village, the party halted and a grave was du<r. The lep- | er $ook a lastfmeal and then swallowed thft opium. After this he put on the shjoud and a pair of shoes, and laid himself down in the coffin, when the copies put-the lid on it, without waitiiagtill the leper should have lost consciousness, and lowered the coffin into tho<grave.?Overland Mail. .,?* Boxing Fruit in Florida. ^correspondent at Boardman, Marine county, Fla., writes as follows in regard to boxing oranges and lemons <in;that state: ^The boxing material and hoops ~^ Tl.f + l>/\ av OriH UUU1.U XlUill \s*. n pieces and middle piece of planks are .sjavi^d and planed here. The paper wrappers also come from the East, and are sent here in huge boxes, worth $45 the box, and requires 6 cents' worth of paper for each box of oranges. Large packing houses, similar to our sugar houses, are erected close to the railroad and in a house where from 10,000 boxes to 25,000 arc shipped, it requires from ten to twenty laborers with step-lad ciers, eaen proviaca wnu ;i sa.u&. n?; unto a cotton-pickers's bag, and nippers, to cut the orange stems close up to the oranges. A couple or more of two-mule wagons bring into the orange groves 'field boxes' with handles; into those the cutters empty their bags of oranges carefully so as not to iujure the fruit. "These boxes when fuil, are taken up by the wagoners, sixteen or eighteen boxes at a time, and are carr'ed to the packing-house and placed therein, and another set of boxes taken back to the frrove on the leturn of the wagon. Grading the fruit comes next in order; that is the perfect fruits are chosen from those that are creased or have been injured on the trees or in their growth, and the bright chosen or separated from the russets or colored. >iext in order comes the sizing the oranges. They are ] assed betwen a row of upright pegs and a board, the pegs placed at diflerent distances from the board, o-r? linKx-non PVOl'V two ne<TS a tl*OU<rh leads into a box into which the sized J fruit drops. At each one of these boxes stn. ds :i boy, whose business :s to wrap the fruit in tissue paper, with the stems upward, and they are then taken and packed securely and tirralyinto shipping boxes, and after undergoing this process the lid is put on and hoops bind all securely togs cr, and the fruit is ready for s!;i liiont. ' Ten men in the field, gathering oranges, oac assistant to heip load in wagons the boxes when full, two sorters, two graders, six wrappers, one or t'.ro packers, one man to prepare the boxes, and one man to uail up after packing, two wagoners, constitute a packing foz-ce to put up, say 150 boxes of fruit per day ready to market at a cost, say of 4o cents lor each box for box material, paper, nails and labor. It requires $45 w orth of paper to the 600 boxes of oranges, and they range in size from ninety-six to the box to "300, .ind it onsts mnoh less for handling the largest size. One collar per man, and 60 cents rcr boy arc the wages paid daily." -o Ways of Telling a Man He Lies. That a manwholies is aliaradmits of no doubt; but the time was not far distant when it was considered advisable to give expression to the fact, when applied directly to the individual, with something of prudent enphonism in the choice of the particular form of words chosen for the occasion. Many delicate methods of getting around the difficulty have suggested them to ingenious SM1U ill>CULi>V; iiiiuuo. ^1. jwii.ii tfv?^/vvi.ed of untruthfulness has been characterized as one "who says more than his prayers;" whose word is "not exactly gospel truth;"who>c "methods of stating a fact are not in logical harmony with the sirictcst demand- of veracity;" whose "practical sympathies with the leading characteristics or' Ananias' views of truth is unquestioned," and so on. But we have entered upon an era in TtrliinK +V>n?;r> mothnds tieserib ing mendacity arc deemed weak, unsatisfactory and superfluously polite. "Hence the word "liarM has come into general use, and is bandied from one j end of the land to the other, and with a frequency that promises to deprive it of the emphasis it has hitherto enjoyed by making it too common. ?Boston Gazette. '*0- v Major General Hancock will retire from the army in February. 1888. > WINTER IX CALIFORNIA. How It Differs from Winter in New S England. After Thanksgiving, winter. In the Atlantic states, east of the Hudson, S good sleighing is cxpcctcd at this date. s Here nothing more than a few white 1 frosts indicate the winter has come, a There have been frosts in the lowlands t during the past week. Last night the o frost crept up on the hillside a little. ^ TLe crystals lay on the plank sidewalks 1 in the suburban towns, and sparkled as d the rays of the rising sun touched them, t For a 'moment or two there were mill- a ions of diamonds, then small drops of c water, and then nothing. But the frost ^ makes crisp mornings, and a coal or e woodiire most enjoyable morning, and T eveninjr?the wood iire especially. v Moreover, the frosts help to color the 11 foliage, although in this country the c deciduous tree&drop the greater part t: of their,foiiag(njf>fore the frosts come. s %he soft maples, elms, white birches, s and locust trees, - aich have been nat* 'd on a wealth of color S'fore -frls leaves 8 fall^so the frosts do ntMo a;I the coloring. Even the eucalyptus, which casts its leaves :it midsummer and continues a " ** "? * - _ - h dropping mem uniu aaie :n me au- tunxn, has a wealth of color which is d hardly noticed. The coniferous trees prevail so largely in California that the 0 high colors of deciduous trees which 1<" grow on the hillsides and mountain n slopes of eastern states are rarely seen 0 here. Yet in every dell after the first s frosts have come in this latitude, one d may find patches of color shading off n from gold to scarlet, with a great many a subdued tones, which nrtists, who are v good colorists, do not fail to notice. *] The first rains have already come. t: But the winter rains have not yet ap- d peared. There is a sort of hush between ^ the autumn and winter. If one goes to b the wood, he will hear hardiy any oth- e er sound than that of the harsh and 0 obstreperous bluejay. Here and there will be a tapping on the trunks, and an occasional squirrel descends to see what s provision in the way of acorns there s may yet be left on the ground. In the ^ open, where the ground is soft, there ^ are the tracks of the sneaking coyote. Even owls cease in a measure to "hoot f in the winter season, and the mournful " sound of doves has altogether ceased. a ? .. _:i i 1? ? ? - ft jt\. great sucuuu uiw lauen upuu tuo woods. There is hardly a singing bird. e The linnets in the suburban gardens, v ivhich two months ago were so active P m feasting on the ripe fruit, beginning a even earlier with cherries, and eontin- ? ' ? i ^ ' t. _ j jj J. u.ing until me lasi ripe pear xiua uisap- j peared, have become silent also.' No more songs and no more depredations, s for the good reason that there is noth- c ing to steal, and the pairing season has v not begun. The white frosts are the v fitting introduction of winter. They s precede the heavier rains. " e The trade winds have died out. They j, will not prevail in this latitude before t the middle of next May. Some are un- s kind enough to say that it is a pity t that they should ever prevail. But these t winds are the Lord's scavengers, sent ? up as so many messengers from the ? salt ocean to deliver the city from j plagues and pestilence. San Francis- ^ co has not been a clean city from the s day of its foundation. Th^re is Oriental* dirt. It has come to be a foreign t city. Merchandise lills the sidewalks, f anil in many places crowds the pedes- e triau into the street. Offal is thrown there. The six months' trade winds of summer and the six months' rain are s the two sanitary agents which keep a watch and ward over the city. The v most dangerous weeks of the year, on j, the score "of health, arc those when e neither the trade winds nor the rains c prevail. The winter season being less c pronounced in this latitxide, there is less Jici-incitinn tr> storA mi n.nvthino'. All U.CjyVV...V- ? - r O il the season is open, and even now the ? bees are making honey, or are going to ^ rob other hives. For in this state even 0 the bees have caught the spirit of the a monopJist. They get a part of their s. honey honestly, aud, as to the rest, n they do not scruple to <*cs it dishonest- f( \y.--San Francisco Bmlclin. ' ?ss, _ c The Air and The Telescope. ^ i The air we breathe is in truth the t worst enemy of the astronomer's ob- s servations. It is their enemy in two i ways. Part of the Jight which brings r it<* wonderful, evanescent messages t across inconceivable depths of space, it n stops; and when it does not stop, it r shatters. And this even when it is most b transparent and seemingly still: when g mist-veils arc withdrawn, and no -p clouds curtain the sky. Moreover, the evil grows with the power of the instru- h mcnt. Atmospheric troubles are mag- f< nified neither more nor less than the it objects viewed across tnem. mus, tJ Lord Rosse's giant reflector possesses r< ?nominally?a magnifying power of a 6,000: that is to say it can reduce the q apparent distances of theheavenly bodies t) to one six-thousandth of their actual a amount. The moon, for example, d which is separated from the earth's sur- y face by an interval of about two hun- ij dred and thirty-four thousand miles, <v is shown as if removed only thirty-nine g miles. Unfortunately, however, in si theory only. Professor Newcomb com- tl pares the sight obta ned under such cir- a cumstances to a gl mpse through sever- d * ? < ; i 1 ai yarns ox running U aiet, uuu uuuuw n whether our satellite has ever been seen C to such advantage as it would be if o brought?substantially, not merely a optically?within live hundred mi es of a the unas-isted eye.?From "Mountain S Obsercalories" in Popular Scicnce ti Monthly. Ie m n Mr. Carruthers used to i elate with rr nui/vli (lmt hfi escorted the oreat ft Sir Robert Feel 'to the b .ttlefielS of e: Culloden and pointed out to him the a: graves of the highland warriors who ic had been slain i. that fatal encounter. Seeing a shepherd watching his flock feeding on the scant herbage of the a moor, he stepped aside to inform the y man of the celebrity of his companion. t< The information feil upon inattentive f] ears. "Did you never hear of Sir p Robert Peel?*'inquired Mr. C'arruther. c ". Never uua ^cua;, repi ea me snep- a herd "Is it possible you never heard p of him? He was once Prime Minister a of England.1' "Weel," replied the jt shepherd, "he seems to be a very re- p spec-table 11.an."? The (Jcntlemari's n Magazine. 0 ?-. ? n A New York drummer lately entered ?< a store in a Delaware town to iind the ^ proprietor and clerk 1 laying checkers, t< the fire out, and the floor unswept lor ) ? three days. "Well, how's business?" v was the salutation. '-.Sold a paper of S( pins this week," was the calm reply of Q the proprietor, as he put a new man into the king row. "And can you stand up under such times?" "I kinder reck- ? on. We've got a big bonftre down- q stairs, and Bob and I are having ft game n" of checkers to see who sets fire to it. j I gurss the insurance is good."?WaU jr Street Scivs. w THE HULA-HULA. it range Customs of the Natives of the Sandwich Islands. The hula-hula or native dance of the 5snrlwi<4i-r<5Tftnders is one of the most ' ' ' ** * VIXGS. Boston is beHeved to Lave more music teachers than any other city in the United States. Invalid-chairs have been mounted on tricycles in England, with a place fcr the driver behind. Cigarettes are seldom made wholly of tobacco. The cheaper grades are made of opium and sawdust. The Louisville, Ky., city dog-tax i3 J one-ninth as much as the saloons pay. Jk There must be slathers of do?sin Loa:s Of the 139 White Cross- Society physicians who went to Naples to assist in treating the cholera patients, twenty * bare died. George Washington Childs, of the Philadelphia Ledger, pensions his old jmpioyes at their regular salaries when they retire. ' . . ; One who pretends. to be an. authority ?ays "flirts arc lik; fiddles?no good without the"beaux." Thev are no good The famous shell road of New Orleans is a boulevard of almost snowy whiteness, nearly 200 feet in width and ingular and fascinating exhibitions of he poetry of motion to be seen among .ny of the barbaric or semi-civilized naions of the earth. In the olden time >n all occasions of festivity and joy the lula-hnla was a conspicuous feature, "he king had his own band of expert .ancers, and the hula-hula was brought 0 a high state of perfection; but on the dvent of the missionaries into the ountry and the civilization of the race ula-hula began to decline. The influ- i nee of the missionaries and of the ' eally religious of the natives has al- 1 . ays been strongiy exercised against :s perpetuation, ooth on account of its ] onnection with the old days of idola- i rous worship, and because they think 1 ome portions of the performance uneemly and even lewd. A few" famous { ancers still remain, but a public exikition is.never given. AJ rare inter- . sis a. private hula-hula as gotten, up od a few favored foreigners are lnvitd fo witness the performance. 1 was invited by a native chief whose cquaintanee I hil formed, to go with 1 im to see a real hula-hula, a genuine ance of the good old time. j We entered a large room on the floor I f which a number of native spectators i xy stretched on soft mats. Room was jade for us, and we had hardly taken , ur seats before a curtain, which was | tretchcd at the far end of the room was < rawa, and the entertainment commenced. First the musicians entered | nd sat down on one end of the stage, ( rhich was simply a large thick mat, on liree sides of which reclined the spec- J aiors. The music consisted of six rums?three large and three sma'lL 'he large ones were enormous cala- * ashes, the heads of which were cover- j d with tightly-drawn skin; tne smau ' nes were cocoanut shells covered in 1 be same manner. Tiie leader?a sprightly dame of 70 < ummers?was a very important per- i on age, as it was her business to direct < lie performance by the expression of 1 er face and the action of her hands. Suddenly a strange chant was raised, < ccompanied by a beating of the drums s i perfect time. This gradually died j way and two more musicians appear- i d, holding long sticks from which they licited clear notes by striking them nth shorter ones; these tool their J laces behind the rest of the orchestra nd ' /fter them, all dancing In a row, A.Arr^nU' Hwinc mr? with fichtl J1 fresh with dowers. ? , Ten girl--, fascinatingly dresss \ with ( carfs bound around meir waists and < rowned with garlands of flowers and ' rith wreaths of gardenias around their rrists and ankles, made their way with low and graceful, movements to the ^ dge of the sta^e, on which they sank ! list as the music ceased. Some of i ~:-i~ s llUSU guia ?VUC uc.Mimui, ; u1 i oftly molded limbs auu ligures o? ex- ' rerne grace. At a tap of the drum hey raised themselves to. their knees j nd commenced a wild song to "which hey at tirst beat time by a clapping of * he hands. Gradually this changed ia- > J o the most expressive pantomine. The ticks and drums took up the measure -arms, hands and even lingers spoke ' orrents of words with a precision that 1 he best-drilled ballet troupe could nev- ' r attain. The body swayed backward ] nd forward, the slightest motion to s he right or left being repeated by all: ometimes snake-like and repulsive, s non seductive and pleasing, until fi- < o ffijcina- of th/? fnl. i 3wed by a low wail, proclaimed the 1 nd of the story, to the evident dis- 1 omfiture of the ma'den, and the trimph of the lover. i During tin interval required for a ] est, a very intricate performance was 1 one through by four men and four i romen, who sat opposite an! close to i ne another. E ich held a bamboo | bout two feet and split at the end into tr ps. When struck, together they jade a most pecul ar sound which jrmed the accompaniment to the song. The object appeared to be for each " >ne to put the other out of time, in vhich none of them ever succeeded^ as j n whatever wav one thrust the stick, i?j.1 _? ue utner was sure iu uu c.u^ ame. Sometimes a prick point by the aen was gracefully parried by the wo aen, who retaliated ly a smart tap on be head or shoulder, which the men lever attempted to guard. A distinct hyme was kept up all the time by the iomVww\e o *-?/} oo fK/iir CAnn/1 hPO^in t.H UUiUUUJ, UiiU UO bMVU OVMU^ - ? et somewhat monotonous loud cries re re raised for the "hula." I The dancers formed a circle. Each I eld a small calabash ornamented with j gathers, and with seeds inside, so that ' ; could be used as a tamborine or rat- ( ie. Slowly the ring begins to circl* t ound, hands and feet keeping time In f majestic formal fashion. Soon they uicken their steps, and the sharp rat- j le keeps up a ringing fire, with now j nd then a deep boom from the big t rums: the circle widens, and, just as , rith wild grace the dancers reach the , mer row of spectators the music ceas- < - ' 1 ' -At i.1 ? AM i s ana iney inrow memseives uu uic j round, leaving two of their number ( tanding in the center. After a pause ie music and the singing begins again nd as they become more passionate so < oes the dancing of the pair become ^ lore intoxicating and abandoned. * 'thers ioin them, each pair wording ; at the old story of coquetry, jealousy, I. nd the final surrender of the maiden, 1 ccordmg to their own tastes and ideas, oft swaying movements and a gentle lmineronrinj orlan^AS and Start ;d gestures gradually give place to J lore rapturous passions. The excite- 1 lent of the dance inspires them to I esh and more rapid evolutions, until 1 xhausted nature can stand no .more, s ad they drop fainting on their cush- t ms.?Kansas City Journal. 1 ^ ? \ The {oetical market.?He < ame into n Austin newspaper office and in a J cry pompous n anner banded the edi 1 or a document with the remark: ".My t riends, to whom I have read this < oem, praise it very highly, so I have t oncluded to allow you to publish it for < reasonable ren.un ration.'" '! can't i ublish your poem, but I can give you s h nt how you can make money out oi J re lied the editor, after he had ead over the verses. "I should be i iuc i obliged to you." "Those friends t f yours who admire your poem so } iuch have got money, have they not?" < 0, yes, some of them are quite ; real thy." "Then you bet them one to ] jn that there is not a paper in the t inited States that will publish a poem ? ithout being paid for it, and you will < ;oop them for all they are worth. > 1 :?? C rUUU. iiitii niiiv. ?The cleaver with -which the Earl of 1 Issex's head was cut off by reason of j ueen Elizabeth's failure to receive the ( nrr in cAOOAn ic cfill nrrtc/arrn^ in fkn i 1U ?9WOVU Iw OWiA yiVOVJ. TVU iU VUV J 'ower of London. It is a savage look- j instrument and somewhat rusty ' ith age. ( aine miles long. A West Virginia -woman of thirtySve eloped with her adopted son, a<red rwenty,* to whom she had been a rnclhjr for ten years. Miss Nettie Carpenter, the American nolinist and prize-winner of the Paris Conservatoire, has recently met with *reat success in England. Not counting Governor Cleveland, ;here have been five Presidential, wid-. jwers in the White House?Jefferson, Jackson, Van Buren, Tyler, and* Arthur. ;. There is a fireman who,.except for a short time, has been continuously . em-, cloyed at the Executive Mansion since ie first went there in Ffl&aore's ad ministration. A Newark maiden attempted to play }n her piano the other day, but could lot sound a note. Investigation showid that her small brother had filled the iop with molasses. : Enough liquor was -consumed ia Sreat Britain last year to make a . lake i mile long, a mile wide, and thirtyive feet deep. What a lake of fire that would make if lighted. One hundred and fifty pounds of pure gold and a basket full of rubies were among the valuables of the dowiger Queen of Burmah before she was removed from power. Florida has one great advantage as a fvinter resort A man can get drunk iown there and sleep out in the coal shed'or under a sidewalk somewhere without freezing to death. It does not constitute a marriage engagement, according to the laws of In- 1 liana, to call a girl your darling bluebell, even if you are squeezing her band it the same tim?. It is simply an emphatic comoliment. 'J he will of the late Carrie J. Welton, Df Waterbury, Conn., (who left the bulk of her fortune to Mr. Bergh's soliety), gives $7,000 for a horse and lattle drinking fountain to be built on :he green in that town. The New York Journal says the days )f the street car are numbered. The :ime is coming when men will be shot 3p town in a pneumatic tube. At present many of them are only halfshot in the elevated trains. The Chinese soldiers' uniforms consist of a blue tunic and as many more luds as he feels like getting inside of. A. good many of them use their shoes ror breast-plate i and stuff cotton in .heir ears to keep from being scared. Mr. Harvey is the smart American sitizen who "squatted" on the only and by which the grand canyon of the Colorado River can be reached, and he low charges a little matter of $12 to visitors for the privilege of looking at ;hat natural wonder. Everybody has heard of "ISasby" 'Locke) of the Toledo Blade, but few ;ould imagine how he looks. He is the shaggiest and most uncouth specimen >f manhood that can well be thought >f. He is s' ort and very broad, and lis lace is a red, rea sun. There is an ol 1 woman in Boston, ;iie widow of a French Marsha], who :ow grinds a hand-organ, the top of vliich is decorated with her husband's nedals. She is said to speak tho pur?st French to be heard in the Hub, and ler facc ros rabies an English wallut. A Nevada ranchman has a herd of lybrid cattle, crossed between the male >uffalo and the domestic cow. They ire not housed during the winter, but ind their food and thrive where other jattle would starve*. Their :>.ef is said o be excellent, and vara has been spun rom their hair. In the Congo valley there are about 1,000 European and 8.000 Egyptian irms for carrying on business. Already railroads"are running, telegraph tvircs stretch in many directions, and jommerce is extensively carried on. k>, also, is the slave trade, and the rade in alcohol, the greater curse of :he two. An eagle kept in Vienna, Austria, lied rafter a confine > ent of 114 years, swans on the river Thames?about tho tges of which there c;m lie no imsiaKe, since they were nicked annually by the Winter's Company, under whose keepnz they have bc<':? for live centuries ?nave been known to survive for 150 / ears and more. Some of the silly press reporters in A^ndnn ncrsist in o.i liuir thj two harm ess snakes which F orenco St. John ilays with in 4-The Great Mogul" coiras. They are only s;i all boa conftrictors, and a child miirht play with hem without harm. They might as ivell call the two white mice that run ip the actress1 ar u Polar bears. There is a man in Clearfield County, ?a., that is 40 years old, vtuo boasts of laving one mother, one stepfather, Jirpp hrn'liors. live sis i?.v. three fath srs-in-law and thr-.-e sn^tlscrs-m-law, :wenty-eight brotbers-i.:-law, iwenty>ne sisters-in-law, 112 nieces and lephews. and he is also the father of seven children, which in a family of L89. W'.en Washington formed his Cabilet it had but four members, the Inlericr Department bc.ng unknown, the ft'ar and Navy being under one head, ind the Po-tmasler General being subordinate to the Tivas m. Xeverthe jbss, of these four po itiuns bo gave :wo to Virginians?Secretary of State Jefferson ami Attorney General Ranlolph. Mrs. J. C. Aver and her daughter returned from Europe recently. In two arge trunks belonging to them there ivere 150 elegant dresses, a lot of fans, ulaid with gems, hair brushes, adorn?d with rubies and diamonds on the sack, and costly knick-knacks without lumber, all of "the value of $35,000. rhe Ayers are no small pills in the so onl wrvrlH r?f Paris