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? . ' . ' ~s ' * iTP'-.v* i ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER ' " " * . N,. / Zmm?m > ' ' . ^ BY HUGH WILSON. ;> >. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, 1877. NO. 8. VOLUME XXV. *** ? - i."' I . . A Persian Story. : v | s la Persia, in olden time, lived a groat king, j li Whose name was Shah Noshirwan : 'Twas his custom, whenever he heard a good I h thing, ! ^ To say " Zeh!" and his treasurer then would ! ^ fling ! , A purse to the fortunate man- ^ This king, when ont hunting on ono fine day, j j Saw an aged man planting trees ; He rode up, and said: " With your hair so gray, j r Don't you think you are throwing your time | u away? ! a You'll never eat food from these." ! a "For three-soore years I have eaten sweet food t From trees that I did not bow ; [ t And would it not be base ingratitude I t: If I took no thought of posterity's good, j e And paid not the debt I owe ?" " Zeh, zeh !" said the king ; and the treasurer R straight f To tho old man a purse hath thrown. I p "See, see ! for good works it is never to late ; j a God hath given mo fruit without needing to wait, e ' Before all my trees are sown." f "Zeh, zeh!" once again; ore tho word was . Baid, 11 s Another purse flew on its way. "Till God placed the crown on your majesty's ^ head, Was such a strange thing ever heard of, or ; j] read, j fc As to reap two crops in 011c day!" 0 " Zeh, zeh !" yet again, and a third full parse To the old man's hand falld nigh ; But the king in his horse's flank drives his | r spurs, j J Nor waits for more answer in prose or in verso, j Lest the wit of that old man, so prompt, so terse, i ^ Should drain his full treasury dry. c BY THE SUMMER SEA. 8 "How palo you are, Ninon ! What v ails you ? You have not been yourself ' these three weeks and more," observed n Camilla Kenwick to her petite, dark- 11 eved maid. .' " Heaven ! it is yon who are not yourself," returned Ninon, as she nervously * adjusted a spray of delicate, wax-white buds in the rich, black hair of her hand- J1 some mistress. "You talk all day to ?J M. Antoine Chariot, and all night you 11 moan in your dreams of Ralph?nothing v but Ralph?madam ; and in the morning the pillow is wet with the teurs you " have shed in your dreams. Your cheeks " are always too hot or too cold, and?par- " don me?your temper is just the same of late, is it for the little quarrel, anil " do you love Raoul so well ?" Camilla Kenwick sighed and stirred * uuertsily in her luxurious dressing-chair " of rosy velvet, as Ninon uttered Ralph's c name in the French rendering with a ^ pretty, tender, Frenchified? libp. The girl drew back with a gesture of admiration, i 1 1 ? "Look, madam?at yourself?in the mirror," she cried, with mercurial delight, seeing how her deft duties had P enhanced the witcheries of a creature P fnirpr t.linn ft fiirre. " Your eves are "? I c "Black, Niuou,"interrupted the lady, laughing ; "black, and notliing more." p 44 They are like two black poola reflect- v ing two evening stars," continued the a vivacious French maid. I "You are a Bad flatterer," said Camilla b Kenwick, not wholly pleased with the fulsome admiration of the girl whom c she had made a petted favorite. " I am C better satisfied with you when you cate- t chise me." " Are yon, madam ? Heaven ! I am 1 glad it is so, for I have something in my heart that must be said." a " What, Ninon ?" inquired Camilla, e starting, as the toyed with her boqti t of camelias and white rosebuds; " what | f is it ?" I t The tiny face of the little French maid grew pallid, and the lithe, dainty ' n form quivered; although her voice was | ? brave and full of melody. j i 4t Madam, dee-ar mrulam, please let { Antoine Chariot know that you are a 11 wife. Why will you take such an unfair j c advantage of the blunder of the hotel! t clerk who registered you as mademoiselle | instead of madam ? If Antoine really : 1 loves you, when he finds himself de-! I ceived, he will kill you or himself. I j I know him." " You call him Antoine. You certainly i ji speak as if you knew him," answered | fi Mrs. Kenwick, with slight hauteur. ! 1 " Who and what is he ?*' t " A French professor of music from f New York, who is stopping at Wild Rose CI iff for a few weeks of rest," snid a Ninon, with a pitiful assumption of in- j difference. 1 "You know more than that, Ninon," r said Camilla,angrily and fearfully; " jind ; t you shall tell me what it is." j .Ninon was silent. | j Camilla clasped the tleiuler wrist of the 1 f girl with a cruel clutch. i e *tr* i- i)? -1.. 1 U.l " npeaK ; sjic uemanuiu. " I will," said Niuoii, " if you will let! i me go and face me honestly," as one I r woman should another." Mrs. K$B?fick dropped lier hand in-11 stantfy, j c 41 Yon have been a good girl, Ninon, I r and I -will give you your way," six*, said, ; e gently; "ve all know that M. Oliarlot | f. is a professor of mu^ic. What more 1 ' is he?" : i " Ho was my promised husband in I r .France," said "the girl, weeping; "the if wedding day was fixed, the marriage set- i r tlements made, and everything else i necessary was arranged, when my father, \ who was a merchant in Paris, failed, and j ] died?by his own hand. Then I knc w it I was my expected do?cr, and not me, thnt11 Antoine loved, for he fled, aud I jiever i saw him again until he came here to Wild < RoseClift"* " v < i l 1 . t\tl ?!<?j "JBUl yon loveu jiimr <jhi-iicu ; ] Camilla, startled. si -' ' 4,'Iloved' him so well that I followed 11 him across the ocean " answered Ninon. ! "J love him still with just that same in- j tense, jealons, passionate love, with | < which Raoul loves you, my lady. O madame, trifle not with Antoine, you do j i not care for him, and to Antoine a slight- 1 eu love woiuu oe aeaiu. j.o you ana | i Raonl it would be worse than death ! ; i You know it; for you weep for your hus- 1] bond all night long, though it was but a j little thing that parted you; and do you j < think Kaoul suffers less than you ?" , n "Stop, Ninon !" said the lady authori- ! tatively, her proud face as colorless as j ' the flowers she held. j " Pardon !" retnrned the girl; " but mui^ you break hearts as the only pas- 1 time that will ease your trouble."See, 11 your sister?for you have called me ! sis- : ter,' my mistress, many times, kneels to you and begs you to give back her An-. ] toin'!, her lover." The little maid was on her knees, and her dark <*arls trembling from out her pretty cap, half hid the round, infantile face that reddened and paled swiftly as lie pleaded for iiim who had ignored ! 1 ier. j 2 " Get up, you silly child," commanded er; beautiful mistress sternly; "does 1 It. Chariot know of your presence 1 lere ?" "No, madame," answered Ninon 1 lumbly as she rose; " but you will tell ' im to-day, will you not?to-day when ' ou meet liim by the sea ?" 1 " Certainly, if you desire it, Ninon," ( esponded Mrs. Kenwick smiling. "And 1 ow bring me my wraps, I hear him sking for me in the hall below." Presently the maid returned bringing 1 shawl of some misty, pale-rose fabric ! * hat she wound in oriental fashion about j( he royally graceful form of her mis- f ress, who immediately went down to ^ :ieet Antoine Chariot. ' He was a handsome man of that dark, nscinatiug sort of beauty occasionally J een in old Spanish portraits. In form, 1 oature and bearing, he was at once "r.nve and noetic, fastidious, passionate ( nil well-bred. " Ah, M. Chariot ! so early ?" obscrv- j d Camilla, giving him her delicate, rosy , j ingertips. " How could I be late," he responded lithe purest English, "when I enjoy i * o much our hours by the sweet, sweet I ea. Will you come down to the beach . rith me ? 'ihe sunset is charming." She smiled as she went with him, but' . icr heart was heavy and fearful in her j1 osom. She was nervously apprehensive j f the denouement of her summer pas- * ime. J ( "Not there, Camilla," said her ad- j j nirer as she would have drawn him j , mong the ranks of .promenaders, " but \ ... viaaTT fnv T OT?/\ I lt'lt*, 1H IJLllb DWtTl^HXUUUUtt, 1V/X omething to say to you. Ho seated her on a mossy boulder in he shadow of a steep cliff grown thickly iver with sweet briar and pink wild oses. "I can guess what it is, my friend," he replied serenely, but with a keen inward thrill that was half pain and half anity; "you have heard something of he tableaux we are to have in honor of ny husband's coming. You wish to help ae?you are very kind." " Your husband, Camilla !" he cried; ' who but I who love you can ever be hat ?" " Surely you should have known I am { i .1" j>_J ? ] narneu, respuuueu mo nuuiim, uti { ieart heavy with dread, licr cheeks blaz- ( ag, as she held forth one dainty hand on ^ rhich glittered her wedding-ring. j, For a moment?one ominous moment \ -lie gazed at her steadily, searchinglv, nd then his reproaches burst forth in a ; urricane of fierce, scathing words. '' I see how it is," he exclaimed; '' yon j ave made me your dupe?my love the ^ r>y of your idleness and amusement, 'he stain of murder is on your fair, false ands, and all the waters of yonder sea an never wash it away. To wish you j uture- happiness would be a mockery: nd blasphemy. Farewell!" He dashed up the cliff with madness j n his livid visage. | * She heard him crashing through the j horny wild rose-bushes, then above the j ^ lash of the sunset sen, she heard a dull, : ? lunging sound and a great agonized | ? "7There was a brief confusion among the j c romenaders on the silvery beach, there ' t rere inquiries and unsatisfactory explan-! ] tions, and a futile attempt at rescue. ! A 11 vain! The hunerv undertow must; iave borne away its prey. ? And whiter than the face of the drowned ould ever be, were the cheeks of Mrs. Jamilla Ivenwick ns sho weut back alone o Wild Rose Villa. She called Nmon and told her of what lad happened. j "Don't touch me," cried the girl,; ghast; "there is blood on your hands, i nadame." j That night her maid could not be j ound, and the next morning Ralph Ken- j rick came. Camilla was alone in her room?her ttitude that of utter misery?her eyes ixed mournfully on the sea. What was , u her heart only Heaven could know. "She is grieving over our quarrel," hought her husband, with a thrill if tenderest ]. ity. " Dear soul! I was a rretch to talk to her as I did. Camilla!" She turned her beautiful head toward o At*tt mnvpmpnf, firwl linr UU* M. ' M >iteou8, unsmiling face 6eemed aged and ] laggard. j "You have como," she said in slow i tnd bitter tones; "you have come, I 1 oppose, to tell me that yon have nr- 1 anged everything for our final separa- ] ion. Have you found your month of reedom so sweet?" 1 "Heaven forbid, my dear wife!" ho < mswered, earnestly. " What you are j >leased to call a 4 month of freedom' < las been a month of wretched loneliness md remorse for the hasty, angry words j hat hurt you so, and that I never meant. ; i Lnd, Camilla, I should sooner contem-1' date suicide than a * final separation'; rom you. Both are impossible, what- i sver I may have Baid. ! i The fair woman shuddered, remember- ; j ng him who lay in his suicidal sleep be- j < leath the smiling stimmer's sea. i " You said that you had ceased to ; i ove me; tnafc you were glad to get me 1 iut of your sight, and you hoped it; < aight be forever," shesfid, emphasizing t ?* /%? /! << Tci if r\noo!Kln o n\on nn<1 , 1 :>C1 Y niuu. AO 11 ?* uuu ; j jcntleman cf>n say anything so cruel un- , ( ess lie menus it ? It would be far more ] nerciful, Ralph, for you to steadfastly 1 tbide by those words now. tliau to per- 1 made me to forget and forgive them, : t md then just as I begin to believe anew 1 n your love and kindness, to repeat 1i them on the first trivial occasion. I had i rather have a Bmall steadfast love upon 1 which I can cling and rely, than a hot ] stormy passion that brings one day a ' surfeit of caresses and the next a tornado , i af senseless vituperate m." Ralph Kenwick flushed painfully and j' guiltily. His hot, hasty temper had been ( bis bane always, and none knew it better i i than he. " My dear wife," he pleaded humbly ; ] " if you will trust me again I will try to ; sonquor this fault that lias made our | wedded life so unhappy. I can't bo a I saint all at once; but I think if you will j be pati?nt with me, my darling, I may be worthy of you after a timo. Will you not come to me again, and be once more i ? : n>> my own u/ving, wruranii^ wjiu ; " I can not," she cried in an agony of j 2motion; " they tell me there is blood on j my hands." " What do yon mean, Camilla? have ! [ driven you mad, poor soul, by my injustice ?" She crept into his arms then, broken and weeping bitterly, gasping out the kratrio. ntorv find fatal endinc of her sum-1 *?O %/ V mer flirtation. - v - . " Poor child!" he whispered, caressing her tenderly ; " poor child, the blame was mine after all. You were too beautiful to be left alone in such a mad and bitter mood without my protection. Never speak nor think of M. Chariot again. Come with me to the beach, and et the breeze from the surf bring back four spirits." "I bate the sen," she said; "the sight 11 md soiind of it will accuse and accurse lie so long as I shall live." - He kissed her, nndL arm Jn arm, they . vent forth, crossing Wild Rose unit on |, ^ Jie farther side, and strolling up the J jeach toward where a fisher's hut and a ruinous boat-house arose in a dark jag- ,ei *ed mass against the blue-green waves, .1 ivith their fringe of foamy surf. "What a picturesque picture," ob- eJ. served Ralph, pointing toward the spot L1 vhere on tlie sand in the foreground f1 hey saw a boat drawn up and overturn- c k1, and setting ui)on it a petite form, a eA scarlet shawl draped about her shoulders, ^ ler dark hair flying in the wind and a . ' over reclining at her feet. ' "Why, love, isn't she your maid, tfinou ?" asked Ralph, giving Camilla Ji' lis glass. The fair woman gazed through it with 'j! >yes wild with eagerness. ! "It is 6he, indeed," she cried; " and | J? ;hat is Antoino Chariot with her. Ho is j , ' ;aved. Oh, my lialph, once more I can ook iu your dear face." Impatient with their hearts and foot- m steps as they traversed the silvery space cc >f distance between them and the two n( vho seemed too happy to hear or care for ;heir coming. ? Presently Ninon looked up, her pretty, P' nf an tile face radiant as a star. 2,' a r\ I f\ rlonv mnfln^riA !" U, iiumoiuui i vxj uvi?a ^ she ejaculated. " It was the old iislier- -1 nan who swam into the sea and brought rr rat my Antoine. And oh, my madame, w le loves me?he does, indeed. It was all Fc i mistake about his hot caring for me in France. We are to be married now. Are re fou glad, madame ?'' u,( Ninon's volubility ended in a whisper I ^ ,liat Camilla only heard. 1 "I am very glad, Ninon," she an- flr iwered. !1? But she was thankfully, reverently f! lappy, when she learned tnat Antoine Dharlot had not intentionally flung himself into the sea. In his passionate j laste he had caught his foot in a trailing 11 rine, and accidentally fallen over the :liiT. 111 In a few weeks Camilla lost her maid; K "or Ninon 6ailed back to her own bonny j Frauce with her husband?Antoire Chur- ? ot. I ~ And Camilla and Kalph Kenwick, in |,1 dl the joyous, peaceful wedded love that | a same to them in after days, never forgot ,01 he trouble and romance ended bo hap- . )ily by the Summer Sea. y The Little that He Had in Bank. Amorg the subscribers to Audubon's 0j nagnificent work on ornithology was ^ lolin Jacob Astor. He was always reaily ^ o encourage such works, and he put his >jv lame down upon Auduboii's book for ip me thousand dollars. During the pro- pj jress of the work, which proved to be jy nore expensive than had been at first | ^ raticipated, Mr. Audubon often found ^ limself obliged to call upon his generous m jatrons for assistance; but he did not sail upon Mr. Astor until the letter-press y md the plates had been deliver? 1. When g lm fliiol lin<1 lipen itiiuIa how- i 11*-/ UI4U1 ViViiTVAJ U??>? MVVU ?? qj iver, lie called upon the great merchant g or his thousand dollars. ^ "Ah, Mr. Audubon," said the owner ar >f millions, "you come in a very bad i ime. Money is scarce and hard, and I *e lave everything snugly and tighly in- ^ ested." Ij{ And so the ornithologist called, time ar ifter time, and was often put off. It was j or lot because Mr. Astor did not wish to ^ )ay, but it was from the strong desire, growing stronger with his years, to keep lis property intact, and see it increased. Be iVhen he had paid away a hundred thou- ^ land dollars for a really benevolent pur)ose he felt good, as a man feels good vho has got rid of an aching tooth. It vas only the wrenching away of the nouey that hurt him. Li At length Audubon called the sixth ime. Mr. Astor had commenced to benoan the low-ebb condition of his cash at n hand, when he caught a disapproving S; ook from his son William, who happened o be present. at " But." said the old man, after a pause, j in "1 suppose you wuut your muiicy, tuiu, ; g] eally, I should like to let you have it. fe [ may have a little iu bank -William bi lave we any money in bank " te Evidently John Jacob had expected ta lis son only to answer a simple yes; and vr, t may be that William B. thought his tb :ather wished to know something of the fo iank account. At any rate, he was just' tii "resh from the cash-ou-hand page of the j at edper, and he answered: j cc "Yes?we have a little over a hundred i n< ;housand in the Bank of New York; j ai eighty thousand in the City Bank; nine-j h< iy thousand in the Merchants'; ninety- j rn iiglit. thousand four hundred in " ! st " That'll do, William! That'll do! I F juess, Mr. Audubon, William can give j in fou a check for the money?" ; tl Value of a Timely Word. j ^ A great deal of harm is done tlirough j st 'orgetfulness. A little thoughtfulness : <h ind care with respect to others would j in sften save them from a great deal of , cs mffering, and aid them in their work. A i cc nan is discouraged in consequence of j aj ;ke difficulties he meets with. An en-' n< :ouraging word may be all that is necee- j iary to revive his energies, and to cance j 0' iiim to persevere. That word were. to jasily spoken. , There are those who are ! ri perfectly willing to speak it, but they do ! w jot think of it. They are busy witb :heir own work. The discouraged one # sinks into d> eper despondency, not ;hrongh their heartlessness, but their w want of thoughtfuluess. A young man j tli is exposed to temptation. He is about ; b< to take a step from which a little in-1 [lueuce of the right kind will 'save him. | Ihere are numbers among his acquaint- ! ^ ^uces who could exert that influence. I ftfi But they do not see his danger, or are so ; busy that they must leave him to the ! care of his other friends. He takes the I CI sten. and it leads to his ruin. A little ! effort rightly put forth would have saved js him. jj. They Were All Slumbering. Victor Hugo never learned the art of thinking upon his feet, and so is com pelled carefully to prepare his parlia- j " mentarv efforts beforehand and to read I them in public from manuscript. In ec connection with this fact, the Paris Figaro relates this anecdote: " The time ti was after 1848, and one day M. Victor bi Hugo, being in the tribune, read a man- tl U8cript on which had been noted at a lc certain passage (at which he supposed a m storm of interruptions would take place) the following words: 'Ah ! you interrupt tl me !' But, on the contrary,' not a mem- cl ber snid a word. The orator paused and hi repeated in his most sonorous voice, w 'Ah! you interrupt me J* M. Dupin, st who presided, leaned a little toward him and said to him, in a tone to be heard to both by tho deputies and the public: ei ' Not at all! not the least in the world ! d< Do you not see that they are all slum- r? bering?"' . ai CAPTURE OF. SISTOVA. owtlie Rnxsiatttt Forced their Way Acronx the Dannhe in the Face of a Heavy Turki?h Fire. Details of the crossing of the Danube Simnitza, opposite Sistoya, are given f a correspondent of the London Daily rewn who was an eye-witness of the iterprise. Gen. DragimirofF's division id the post of honor, and was expected i make a footing on the Turkish side by irly morning. Prince Miorski's vision -was to make a night march from isBa and be in position at Simnitza to llow its sister division across in the rent of the latter's success. In the rent of failure, it was to take up the jilting, and force a passage at all izards ; for the Archduke Nicholas had mounced that he would have no ?nial. The river had to be crossed at imnitza, cost what it might. With the irkueBs Gen. Dragimiroff began his spositions. The first work was to lant in made emplacements a row of sld giuis all along the edge of the flats sweep with fire the opposite banks. his was while his infantry was being arched over the flats down into the >ver of the willow wood. The darkjss and the obstructions were both so eat that all was not ready till the first immer of dawn. There was no bridge, it a number of river boats capable of ilding from fifteen to forty men each, hese were dragged on carriages tlirough to mud, and launched in the darkness om under the spreading boughs of the illow trees. The boats put off singly, iwing across, for the little cove, and ter a little steam tug was brought into quisition. For once the Turks had it spent the night-watches in heavy eep. Their few cannon at once opened re on the boats, on the hidden masses nong the willows, and on the columns arching across the flat. Nor was this 1. From the slopes above the cove, icrc came at the boats a smart infantry :e. The Turkish riflemen were holdg the landing place. General Yolchine id not experience and credit in Cau,sian for nothing. His boat was leadg. The Turkish riflemen were in isition about miy yarus irom me snore, e landed his handful, and bade them y down in the mud. One or two were >wn instantly withTuikish bullets. He jened a skirmishing fire to cover the nding boats that followed. Ono by le these landed their freights, who folwed the example of the first boat load, t length enough had accumulated. Dung Skobeloff was there, a host in mself. Gen. Yolchine bade his men c bayonets, stand up and follow their ficers. There was a rush and a cheer .at rang louder in the grey dawn than te Turkish volley that answered it. hat volley was not in vain, but the nrks did not wait for cold steel. Yoltine's skirmishers followed him doggedsome distance upon the slope, but for e time could not press on far from the ise. Busily, yet slowly, the craft oved to and fro from the shore. Tho ussian guns had at once opened when e Turkish fire showed there was no irprise, but, however heavy a tire may it will not nil at once crush another e. The Turkish sheila kept falling in e water, whistling through the willows til bursting among the columns on the its. One shell, from a mountain gun 11 into a boat containing two guns, ;eir gunners ami the commandant of a ittery The boat was swamped at once, id all on board perished. This was the ily serious casualty, but numerous ussinn soldiers were falling on both Jes of the river. Never tireless the :irk went steadily on, and soon after ven o'clock, Yolchine's brigade, a ussian battery, and Gen. DragimirolT, id crossed the river. The ground thus ! lined was held until re-enforcements rived, and Sistova was captured. iving Eighteen Hours With a Broken Xeck. A Gentleman Damed Miller, residing the corner of Park and John streets, pracuse, N. Y., and aged about sixty ;ars, was eugaged in picking cherries a neighbor's near by, and while so do g a limb broke, aud lie fell to the ouud, a distance of only ten or twelve et, striking on his shoulder and the ick of his head. This occurred about n o'clock in the morning. Miller was ken to his residence, and Dr. Whedon as called. When' the doctor reached ie house and made an examination, he und that Miller had suffered a dislocn3n of the neck at the base of the brain, id at the upper part of tho spine. He >uld hear and understand, but could )t speak. Dr. Whedon, on further exnination, found that when the man's jad and neck were pulled into the natu.1 position, he could not only underand and hear, but could talk as well, or about two hours the neck remained i its dislocated condition, and most of ie time persons were employed in holdig the neck aud head in position, the ental faculties beiug in their natural lite- Doctors who visited tho house iring the afternoon declared that not i the history of the country has such a Lse ever happened before. A dressing, insisting of bandages and weights, was jplied to the patient's head to keep the ;ck extended. The injured man died about four clock the next morning, and previous i his death he became paralyzed in his ght side. He lived eighteen hours ith a broken neck! . Thoughts for Saturday Night. Assurance and intrepidity, under the hite banner of 6eeming modesty, clear ie way to merit that would otherwise j discourag d by difficulties. No company is far preferable to bad, ?cause we are much more apt to catch ie vices of others than their virtues, i dise.se is far more contagious tliau >alth. For the honest people relations in ease with the years. For the vicious conveniences increase. Inconstancy the defect of vice; the influence of ibit is one of the qualities of virtue. No man is defeated without some rebutment. which will be continued with jstinacy while he believes ltimself in le right, anil asserted with bitterness if ;en to hie own conscience he is detect1 in the wrong. It appears to be among the laws of naire that the mighty of intellect should a pursued and cooped by the little, as le solitary flight of one little bird is folded by the twittering petulance of any smaller. There is nothing more to be esteemed inn a manly firmness and decision of lift-acter. I like a person who knows is mind and sticks to it; wno sees at once bat is to be done in given circumances nnd does it. If this life is unhappy, it is a burden i us, which is difficult to bear; if it is in rery respect happy it is dreadful to be jprived of it; eo that in either case the jsult is the same, for we must exi st in ixiety and apprehension. I FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. Interesting .Ucdical Notes. Arsenic in Disease.?The administration of arsenic in disease, according to Dr. Griffith, in The London Medical Press, should never be resorted to where there is a feverish state of the system?a quick pulse and a hot skin indicating that it should not be employed. It should be given shortly after meals, and never on an empty stomach; it should not be given in the solid form, nor in increasing doses, but, as a rule, five minims of Fowler's solution should be the maximum dose for an adult; the dose should be diminished, or the ad ministration altogether ceased, on the occurrence of pain in the epigastrium, nausea, or irritation of the eyelids. Ai/conoii and Insanity.?A correspondent of The Journal of Mental Sciencc, Dr. Donnld, writing from Guinea, states with regard to the etiology of insanity in that colony, that it is not found to be depending in any way on, or modified by, the nature of the climate, but that one of the most fertile causes of the malady is intemperance; this is more particularly the case among Creoles and Portuguese, alcohol being traceable, in many instances, as the direct agent. Dr. Donald states that, among the lower classes, rum is mostly used, and frequently, in the form of highwines, rum forty over proof, so that it can easily be understood that this in time seriously interferes with bodily health, and, acting as a poison, eventually produces cerebral lesions. Action of Tobacco on the System.? Some years ago the French government directed the Academy of Medicine to inquire into the influence of tobacco on the human system. The report of the commission appointed by the academy states that a large number of the diseases of the nervous system and of the heart, noticed in the cases of those auecteu Willi paralysis or lusnuny, were to be regarded as the sequence of excessive indulgence in the use ,of this article; and it is remarked that tobacco seems primarily to act upon the organic nervous system, depressing the faculties and influencing the nutrition of the body, the circulation of the blood, and the number of red corpuceles in the blood. Attention is also called to the bad digestion, benumbed intelligence, and clouded memory of those who use tobacco to exefess. Medical Uses of Glycerine.? Among the various uses for which glycerine has been found especially valuable as a mcdicinal agent, is that of food for iufants; when laist'1 by hand they can be kept comparative, free, it is said, from mauy of the ills to which they are liable, by the substitution of from four to six drams of glycerine for the amouutof sugar usually added to the cream, milk, or water constituting their diet. In cases of deafness, too, of adults, from deficiency, accumulation, or hardness of the cerumen, glycerine is alleged to be one of the beet remedial agents?introduced into the canal by means of raw cotton saturated with it. It is also claimed to be the only known agent, which will preserve vaccine lymph for any considerable timo without deterioration; it has been found extremely useful in numerous skin diseases, and its serviceablencsshas been satisfactorily proved in connection with all the various substances used locally in diseases of the eyes, except nitrate of silver, which latter it decomposes. IlarrcHtlna Wheat. From present appearances the coming harvest promises to be a wet one in many sections of the country. Heavy and continued rains during the last fortnight are reported, and they have done some damage in certain localities, prostrating the ripening crops and injuring the corn. Many of our readers will remember the wet. season of 1875, when so many thousand bushels of wheat were badly injured or totally destroyed by the continued wet weather during and immediately after harvest, and none desire to repeat the experience this year, especially in view of the remunerative prices which this cereal promises to command. It is to guard against loss from this cause, as ? mi ii .i __n ?il l: mucii as possioie, mat we wui ntwimuii to the subject now. From personal examination of different fields of wheat in the shock, we know that very much of the great loss in 1875 was due to bad or careless binding and shocking. Sheaves and shocks well bound and put up will stand quite a lengthy spell of wet weather without much injury, but loose sheaves and shocks offer no resistance to the rain, and arc soon saturated. The difference was notably apparent in adjoiniug fields we examined, in which tho wheat had been handled and put up in the two ways referred to. In binding, sheaves should not be ' made too large. Smaller sheaves make a better shock every way. The shock can be put together more snugly, and as more sheaves can be put into it, a better circulation of air is provided for, so that, should the rain penetrate, it will dry out quicker. Aim to make the sheaves of I such a sizejhat two of them made into, caps will effectually cover tne otner ten ! of the dozen. A great deal has been written about the proper time to cut wheat. Whatever difference of opinion there may be as to the quality of earty or late cut wheat, nil are agreed that ripened wheat will not stand wet weather like that cut earlier. For any purpose, except for seed, we would cut it just after the grain has passed into- the doughy state. It makes brighter, plumper grains, better flour, and there is a decided gain in quantity. But the point we wish to make here, is that the early cut wheat, i well bound and shocked, wiil stand much j longer than the ripe, during wet weather. Most farmero understand, well enough, j the importance of careful work in the wheat field, but many do the work, or permit it to be done, in a careless manner, I nevertheless. In favorable seasons careless work will do, but the grain which may be secured in one unfavorable season, by proper care, will pay for all ex tra trouble incurred during a great many j dry seasons, when it appears like labor | thrown away to go to any extra pains to ' secure the crop from injury.?Practical i Farmer. I From the Bank to the Poor House. j Roswell C. Peck, aged sixty-two, who has juBtdied at East Haddam, Mass., j had a checkered career. He was at one | time connected with a New York bank, i by whose failure many of his townsmen i suffered, and then he established and ! was proprietor of the Granite bank. Soon after the failure of this enterprise he became an inmate of the almshouse, j One day he went to New York, and came I home a few days later the owner of the largest and best farm in town, .this ne managed extravagantly, and reverses and litigation soon took it out of his hands. When he died he was about to go once more to the almshouse. AMONG THE UNKNOWN DEAD. What a Reporter Saw and was Told In an Hour at the New York Morgue-Ovo 1,700 Bodies Exposed on tbo Marble Slabs in the Pant Eleven Years. From July 24, 1866, to July 2, 1877, 1,761 bodies were received at the morgue in New York and recorded as unrecog! nized. The records are not so kept as j to show at a glance the number subsequently recognized by friends; but it is estimated that at least three-quarters remain unidentified. The relative number of recognitions lias perceptibly increased since 1869, when Warden Brennan established the practice of taking pictures of the bodies. There are two classes of pictures al the morgue; those of missing persons and those of the unrecognized dead. The first class are pinned or pasted in what are called the description books, and are brought in by friends. They are pinned over the descriptions to aid the morgue superintendent in identifying the bodies, should they be brought it! 4 rrvnnf mnnTTinrcnn# crn fn flip mnrrril n J L' o O to inquire if the bodies of missing friends have been brought there, but only a few consent to have descriptions recorded or to leave pictures. Since December 15, 1867, only about 900 descriptions have been taken down. Near many of these descriptions are pin holes and dabs of mucilage, showing that pictures have been removed. Only ten pictures at present remain in the books. This is because in most cases the missing persons return from some escapade, and their tro fearful friends hasten to reclaim' the pictures. The bodies of less than a third of those reported as missing are brought to the morgue. Besides pictures, there are to be seen in the description books bits of cloth similar in kind to some part of the clothing worn by the persons sought for. The other class of pictures are those of the unrecognized dead, taken after they are brought to the morgue'. They are not kept in albums, but are tacked up against a wall and protected by glass doors, which shut over them. This wall !h directly in front of five slanting mar! ble slabs, on which the unknown dead i i p J.*? rni. ~ are piacea wr reuugmuuu. jluo uwi 10 usually unlocked; in the summer time it iB left open. To the children of the neighborhood the morgue is an old story, but boys from other parts of the city often gather about the door or peer in through the low window at the bodies. Usually visitors exhibit more honor while looking at the photographs than when inspecting the bodies on the slabs. There are 140 pictures left on the wall. Each is affixed with two tacks, one at the top and one at the bottom. On the back of each has been written its history. In several cases a name is mentioned as that of the supposed original. One of the pictures is supposed to be that of Daniel Peterson, a negro. The body was picked up in Thompson street, after the Eighth Ward, or " Jefl Saunders," riot, on July 21, 1875. Evidences of the mode of death of a great many are visible in the pictures. There is a photograph of a fair-faced girl, who was found frozen in the water off Whitehall street, on January 19,1875. | She is supposed to have been thrown I nverhnnril from a shin bv two sailors. The appearance of a rope around hie neck shows how aa intelligent looking man committed suicide in Central Park, in June, ] 8G9. The appcarance of a gun-shot wound in the head shows how another sought his death in the same park, on July 26, of the same year. Not all tho'bodies of unknown persons brought to the morgue are photographed. Some of them are found in rooms, the other occupants of the houses not knowing their names or antecedents, bul being well enough acquainted with them to establish their identity should friende come to inquire after them. Others are found dead in the street, and are recognized by policemen as having been tramps or beggars frequenting certain portions of the city. Pictures are taken only where there is a necessity for taking them, as where there is suspicion oi crime, or when it is likely that the friends live at a distance and cannot arrive at the morgue within the seventytwo hours prescribed by law for exposing unrecognized bodies. When a body it recognized by means of a picture oi otherwise, the picture is given to the friends, together with the clothing and ' rni * - r j_T 1 J_ otlier enects. xne numoer 01 wie uuuj is given them, and they can then go to Potter's Field and recover it. On the head of each coffin is creased with a sharp 6teel instrument the number given the occupant at the morgue. There is a suspicion that in many cases the dead man has friends, who, either because they are too poor to bury him, or because they arc unwilling to incur the expense, remain away in order that their proper task may bo performed by the city. The assistant superintendent says that during his stay at the morgue he had several people who were troubled with , tumors come and ask permission to rub them with a dead man's hand. They were permitted to do so on the ground that their faith in the remedy might possibly effect a cure. Most of those who come for this purpose make a cross on the tumor with the fore linger of the dead mnn. A Fight with ft Rattlesnake. George Case, a constable, a few days a<ro was away from the house at work on the farm, and the mother had stepped j out of the house for a short time, leavj ing n little girl of eighteen months alone. Hearing the child laughing in j great apparent glee, she looked in and j was horrified to see it striking at a large j masasaugua, or marsh rattlesnake, and when it would make a lunge to bite, the child would laugh, supposing it play. A I pet cat was between the child and the ! snake, using all its strength by rubbing i against it to keep it out of danger. It is j the opinion of the pareuts that they are ! indebted to the cat for their child's life, j The mother seized the child and place'd | it in the middle of the highest bed in the | house; then she, all unmindful that she I had lain off her shoes, seized a kettle ol j hot water and commenced pouring it I upon him. This bravo little barefoot j woman, near enough to a four-foot rati tlesnake to pour hot water on him, i poured it on the reptile till he made n lunge to bite, when she screamed, dropped the kettle, and ran. By this time Mr. C., who had been called, got to the t x ^ I I10U80. JOy tflUliiy up l/lic JUUUX ?ic Duv/a ! ceeded in pushing the snake out with a ! pitchfork. His snakeship was found in j a very demoralized condition, being half | cooked and eutirely blinded by the hoi ! water, trying to bite with a mouth al] knocked askew by tlie falliug kettle. After he was despatched nnd the rattles secured they were found to number seventeen, aud some of them gone at that, showing him to be old enough to vote. HISTORICAL CROSSINGS. ! Nineteen Pas*n?cs of the D&nabe?Snvarof anil Bcffration?Obstinacy of Alexander. On the eve of the crossing of the Dan ube by the Russian troops, some divis sions of which are still on the northerr . bank of the river, the Militar Wochen i blatt., a special German paper, recallec iL. 1 i. T tnat nineteen umes wnum iuo iaoi uuu i dred years the Russian forces have crossed the Danube with hostile intent, , 'without including the present passage o! the river. Three times the passage waf . effected at Turtukai, three times at Hir f sova, and other three times at Ismaila, Twice the river was crossed at Kladova, ; twice at Galatz, twice at Ibraila, while , once only were troops brought across al Gosobal, once at Tjernavoela, once ai l Silistria and once at Satunova. The first occasion on which tho Russian force* . crossed to the right bank of the Danube [ was during the campaign of 1773. Ai , armistice had been arranged in 1772, bul ; peace could not be concluded. Accord , iDgly, by express desire of the Empresi Catherise, it was determined to lead the ; Russian army across the river. The i Turks had strongly garrisoned the for , tresses of Rustchuk, Silistria anc i Schumla, had posted troops in observation at every point of passage, and helc strong reserves in readiness in the rear, Nevertheless, General Suvaroff succeeded in transporting 700 men across the , river at Turtukai during the night between the ninth aud tenth of May, 1773, , defeating and putting to flight 4,000 iri regular troops stationed there. On the , twenty-seventh of the same month, Suvaroff was followed by General Weis, mann; while at the same time Genera] Potemkin succeeded in capturing Hireova and in establishing there a second nassaae across the river. Screened by these detachments,' the main Russian army, under General Rumanzoff, crossed , the Danube at Gosobal, about twentj miles below Silistria, and advanced to the attack of this latter fortress. Every effort to take it was, however, in vain ; and, disheartened by his want of success, the Russian general fell back again across the river. In the autumn, however, at the earnest instance of tho empress, he recrossed to the right bank and penetrated into Bulgaria as far as the Balkans. In the following year, 1774, the Danube was again crossed by Russian forces, this time early in April, by Kamienski, at Ismaila. During the same month General Suvaroff effected a passage at Tjernavoda, and General Glaboff crossed over in the vicinity of Silistria. The next attempt to carry Russian forces across the Danube was made by Miloradovitch, ; who sought to capture Giurgevo by I in Afofnli IftHQ TVi p nf.bink | DUV/liU) 1U HAMiVU y AVVV* failed, as did alao a like enterprise undertaken by Proeorovski against Ibraila. Still the emperor Alexander insisted that , the river should be crossed, and, ac, cordingly, General Isajeff passed over to the right bark at Kladova to af sist ; the Servians. This latter place was stormed. Again the assault was unsuc, cessful, and again the Russians were fain to fall back to their own side of the stream. In the meanwhile Prosorovski . had been superseded in his command od the lower Danube by Prince Bagration; and this latter succeeded, in August, 1809, in crossing the river near Galatz. , and the Turks ottering no resistance, . possessed himself of Isaktcha, Tultecha, Matchin, Hirsova, and finally also of Ismalia. Silistria, on the other hand, withstood every attempt to capture it , until, owing to the difficulty of providing subsistence for the besieging forces, it , became necessary, late in the year, once more to withdraw the Russian armj , across the Danube. At the opening of . the campaign in the following year, 1810, ; the new commander-in-chief of the Russian forces, Count Kamienski II., con, veyed his army of 25,000 men and , seventy-two guns across the river al , Hirsova between the tenth and fourteenth of May. On the twenty-fifth oi , the same month General Snss crossed in | boats at Turtukai, and seized that town; and on the thirtieth Count Zukatto alsc . nnnqprl nvpr flifi rivfir fr> t.llf! north oi ) Widdin. In the two following years, . 1811 and 1812, the Russian armies con. stantly crossed and recro.ssed the river. - Hirsova, strongly fortified and garrison\ ed by the Russians, served them as a . tcte-de-pont on the Turkish side of the i river, and a bridge was also established [ and maintained at Turtukal. At the outset of tbe campaign of 1828, 29 the Russians, crossing the Pruth in , three columns on the seventh of May, i reached the Danube on the eighth >i k June. The Third corps was to cross the river at Satunovo to the eastward oJ Isaktcha; the Seventh corps was to pass over atlbraila; while the Sixth, travers .ing Wallachia, was to cross the Danube . in the neighborhood of Turtukai. The . Sixth corps arrived at the river withoui having encountered any serious opposition in its passage through Wallachia ; but every effort made by it to effect c [ passage across the Danube at Tnrtuka: was in vain. The Third corps was more | successsful at Satunovo, and on the I ^ ii i* t i? J ? eignsu 01 june ii oriujje was comuunucu | there; while the Seventh corps, having ; been delayed by the necessity of besieg, ing and capturing Ibraila, did not sue\ ceed in crossing the river until after th( , capitulation of that place on- the seventeenth of June. The history of the passage of the Dauube during the RussoTurkish war of 1853-5 is well known. , On the twentieth of March, 1854, 12,00C Russian troops were assembled at Ibraile J under the command of Gortschakaff himself; 21,000 more were at Galatz, undei ' Luders; and 14,000 were at Ismaila, under Utechakoff?nil in readiness to cros? the river. On the twenty-first of MarcL' | the lust named general succeeded, despite unfavorable weather, in crossing | the Ivilia arm of the Danube in bontt from Ismaila. On the twenty-third |' General Luders* troops were transported I to the right bank from Galatz, while (! Gortscihakoff,having established a bridge (; of boats, moved his force across on -th( twenty-sixth of Maroh. \ Pleasant Bedrooms. .. ! There is nothing more indicsftive of ro : i finement and a genuine cifltorejin i I fnmilv flion Vo-irrlif. r>lipprfnl ?'trrtil \suApi fully-decorated bed-chambers. Taste ful decorations do not necessarily mear , expense, and it is possible to make t i chamber look very pretty at a very smal outlay. Indeed, in many instances, nc > outlay at all will bo required beyonc i what would be incurred under any cir cumstances. The women of a family, \ especially, are apt to pass a good portior l of their time in their bed-chambers, anc : in some households the sleeping apart ; | raents nre used alike for 6ewing-rooms, I s tting-rooms and nurseries. It is wort! ! while to obtain all the innocent pleasure II we can in this life, and there can be nc I doubt that life is pleasanter if most ol I it.? Imiirs nrfl nnssed in cheerful-lookins I apartments, In the Shower* A girl sat at an op 3a window, sweetly singin r In gashing shower the summer rain was r ward winging. She seemed a bird, her longing voice the swm! reminder? 1 A warbler caged, the rain the bars that cloae | confined her. Sing on,though doors be closed, content with ? good endeavor, Rather than free, to breast the storm, and fall f forever. i . = Items of Interest. A good many men are in the best of 1 health when they are out of spirit. I From 1791 to 1873 there were 8,045,|. 838 silver dollars coined. None were k made between 1805 and 1836, and none , in 1858. j Everything in a name. The small i paths in Fairmount park are called foott paths, while the very large path on the . other side of the river is called a tow i path. J "How many children have you?" 5 asked one friend of an old acquaintance. " Well, I have five, but they were eating cucumbers when I left home and they may be all doubled up now." "Do those bells sound an alarm of fire ?" said a stranger, the other Sunday, as the church bells were calling together the worshipers. "Yes," was the reply, " but the fire is in the next world." A sudden draught of hot air passed through a cotton field and peach orchard in Western Texas a few days ago, scorching and killing every green tiling it touched for a space of one hundred yards long. Another day has come and gone, leaving us all older and wiser, but as yet no L communications have been received indiflflfcinc that anv one has discovered a - man who can drink out of a spring without getting the end of his nose wet Sellers of liquor in Oregon are not required, under a new law, to be licensed ; but every drinker must pay $5 a year for a license, and whoever sells to an unlicensed person may be imprisoned. The names of procurers of licenses are to be published every six months. The small boy has two prime objects in view in getting a "fighting cut" to his hair in warm weather. One is to show his vigilant father that he hasn't been in swimming; and the other, because he can lie in bed five minutes longer in the | morning; he doesn't have to comb hi* hair. , Men have been somewhat cynically defined as a contrivance of wise men to keep foolB at a distance. Fashion is shrewd to detect those who do not belong to her train, and seldom wastes her attentions. Society is very swift in its instincts, and if you do not belong to it, resists and sneers at you, or quietly . droris von. A v ; This is what is just killing enterprise i in the Black Hills: A paragraph in the telegraphic columns of a daily paper > assuies us that one " ten stamp mill has i just cleared up $7,000 worth of gold," and the paragraph following tells us t how the " road agents have just cleaned ; out a stage, robbing all the passengers and asking $7,000 from the treasure box." At this rate it is very evident would take about four or five ten stamp mills to keep even with the rot d agents. It is related that the lat? General John C. Breckinridge bad a sou (Cabel) ' upon his htaff/and at the terrible charge of the Kentucky Brigade at Murfrees; boro', chose him to carry an order to a ! distant part of the line, saying in reply ' to a remonstrance that "he would not direct any officer to face a danger from which he would spare a member. of his ' own family. The boy galloped' safely through a storm of bullets, delivered the order and returned unhurt. It is ' now announced that he is to marry next ; month the daughter of Lloyd Tevis, : now reputed the richest man iu Cali 1 forma. | Hot Temper and Rash Action. As an instance of wliat hot temper and rash action can accomplish to rain a life, an affair that occurred at Sharon, Pa., is one of the best illustrations. A , young lady, Miss Kate McGilvery, was ? out driving alone, and when on State I street she desired to get ahead of a wagon. She called out to the driver to turn aside so that she could pass. He i was a deaf, infirm old man, named Bell, , and at first did not hear what she 6aid, f but after a second or third call did as re; quested. Misunderstand jig Mr. Bell's f delay, the young lady on her arrival at ) home told her father that the old man . had tried to frighten her horse. Mr. i McGilvery is very impetuous, and this > made him so angry that he started down t town to find Mr. Bell. He met him in . front of a store, and, without warning, ; knocked him through the windbw, cuti ting his head badly though not seriously, i Mr. Bell was removed to his residence, i and his son Richard was so maddened i by his father's condition that he de[ termined to punish his assailant. He rt fouud him in front of the very sU re - where the first assault had been made, nnrl niVkinc lit) ft twO-DOUUd braSS I ? ?V. jf? O ?X- i. s I weight he hurled it at Mr. McGilvery's | head, fracturing the skull. The wounded ! man died in a few hours. Miss Kate, . the innocent cause of all the trouble, has lost her reason, and is now a raving I maniac, though her physician ha<< slight i hopes that she may recover from the . [ shock. Yornig Bell was taken in cus i tody. j j Seven Men Killed in a Coal Mine. II A shocking disaster occurred recently ! iu a coal mine at Wheatland, Pa., by ' j which seven men were suffocated and a |; number seriously injured. The coal i from the Brookfield mine is hauled out M by a locomotive engine. On the mora5; ing of the disaster the managers of the |; mine ordered anthracite coal to be burn5 ed in the engine furnace instead of soft I coal, which had been heretofore used. Ai>out eleven o'clock the engine passed into the mine slope. After being in a . short time th i. gxne became Irg?s from-the 1 - ! fall to the gr i1 tion. The ei i; his way back I and gave an i > I men rushed ir I t /.nmM.loa n . j ed in, but wei i, come by the, , i j sensible. Afl & JJjjfc '^ ^ lia gnnpr vaa '-V' : .' who went in ] , J five parsed in ii comrade, whe ?| their arms an< i j air. In this [ j brought out, i ; j deiul before r I bank or died Wi?:. V * V - " .x* I ^