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\ - J. <? ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 22, 1877. NO. 11. VOLUME XXV. The Seasons. J " When spring comes laughing 1 By vale and hill, j By wind-flower walking ? Aud daffodil? j. Sing, stars of morning, Sing, morning skies, t Sing blue of speedwell, t Acd my love's eyes. ft " Whon comes the summer, jj Full-leaved and strong, y Aud gay birds gossip v The orchard long? 11 Sing hid, sweef honey o That no bee sips; Sing red, red roses, i " And my love's lips. \ " When autumn scatters f< The leaves again, si And piled sheaves bury n I he broad-wheeled wain? Sing flutes of harvest ii Where men rejoice; J Sing ronnds of reapers, 8 And my love's voice. 0 " But when comes winter n With hail and storm, y Aud red tiro roaring j a And ingle warm? Sing first sad going Of friends that part; Then sing glad meeting And niv love b Heart. ?Austin Dobson. ^ f, OVER-REACHING. n w It was a grand and stately-looking a mansion, surrounded by extensive y grounds. So much could be seen in the u moonlight. But the eutire front of the house was dark. At the back, only two windows m the upper part, beside the w basement, showed a light. w The room within was large and lux- h urious. Au ample grate at one side held u bed of glowing coals, and upon a J low couch near it an old man lay. By ; d the gray pa.lor of his still handsome I si face, his sunken ej'es, his stillness, he j was very ill, perhaps dying. j i( A woman wa? the only other occupant \ of the nom, and she was young and very j beautiful. j t] She was in full evening dress, n violet j velvet, made low and richly trimmed, v and on her whito neck and arms were 'u jewels. w < ^ - -! i.UO K I 'l'iie eves OX rno Bl<;& umu tvntuueu uci j jr as the slowly priced the room, her velvet! ai dress trailing the carpet, a look in her j I face that he could not read. I f< It was a strange sight?tho woman in s< her gala attire, brilliant with beauty, glittering with gems ; the man with his b pinched and sunken face, on which b death's gray shadow seemed already set, j watching her. | b She never looked at him, and, in spite of her youth and loveliness, there was i b something harsh and forbidding in her j countenance. i a The sick man moved uneasily on his j ]j couch. i ii "It is very strange, Virginia, that j T r J 1l ?t ??!,?. it T i J uarnes uot-'s uuii inuiu, 11c sum, ^ ?ui ; sure he has been long enough to go to j town and bock twice." "I shoulil think so," the woman an- i n swered, still without looking at him ; \ v " but perhaps ho did not find either of j the lawyers at his office, and he may be I waiting to see Mr. Jiidd." ! n In a moment more some one knocked ; v softly upon the door of the sick room. ! j " If it's James I want to see him," said I the man on the couch. I f James came in, a low-browed, sullen- j looking fellow, ami stood crumpling his : hat in his hand. " Did you find Mr. Judd ?" his master ' P i " No, sir; but I left word." 1' "Why didn't you go for Mr. Leeds 1 ' j "I did ; but he wasn't at home neither. | Mr. Judd '11 be back to-night. They ' ? was expecting him every minute. I told 11 'em to send him as soon as he come, 'cause you didn't know as you'd live till | morning." Virginia AUorey gnueu iorwuru. ! "You didn't send any such -word as i that, did you, Robert ?" she said to her I p husband. "I think you are better to- j j, night. I am sure you will live weeks yet. I begin to hope you may get well n again, you are so much better." , j, The sick man shook his head. j j " I shidl never see the morning again, j dear, I am only keeping np on stimulants v now. I can't hold out much longer." 11; " Do let me send for the doctor to coma back. Robert." " Doctors can do me no good, you n know that. It is not a doctor that I|g want, but a lawyer. It is very strange j g they should be away. Have yon told I ? me the truth, .Tames?" he asked the.man | \ suddenly. " The truth, sir ?" questioned the man ft o^omi^nvinnr wliilft Iia ufnln fl . furtive glauce at his mistress. j y Virginia Aubrey put her hands behind her and showed liim a roll of uoteR. " Why don't yon answer, James ?" she j, said, impatiently. "Have you told your j. master the truth or not ?" ! T ?' The truth, of course. Why would j I tell him anything else, and him j a-dyix& ?" j < 44You can go," said Mr.' Aubrey, ! " Sen I Rufus here." As Jamea departed the sick man turned .. to hh wife. , " I don't kuow why he should ; but j ? James looked as if he was lying. It ^ can't be that any one here wants to keep ! me from seoiug a lawyer ?" + A strange whiteness crossed Virginia Aubrey's beautiful face. j " I should hote not, dear. What object could they have ?" The sick man was silent. Fifteen minute < passed. r Suddenly Mr. Aubrey spoke again? [ " Virginia, why doesn'tJRufus corae ?" c "I will see," said his wife, calmly, j and rang the bell. It was James who ivnswered it. g " Where is Rufas?" she asked him. t " I dunno. It's like he forgot. I told him." , " Go at once and tell him again." James departed, and returned in about I t en minutes. " Rnfns," he said, " has beeu drinking?says he'll come when he gets ready, i. not aiore. . The sick man groaned. j' " Go and send Martha here, James," i aid Mrs. Aubrey. " She won't come either," moaned < her husband, in a failing voice. "No- ! i body comes. They nave all deserted ] me?even my daughter Blanche. I knew ] she never liked my marriage, but I j < didn't think she would refuse to come , and see me when I am dying. Virginia, 11 why are you dressed so ? To see me i die?" Virginia Aubrey turned aside her head ; i a moment. Her eyes gleamed evilly. |: lien she came and knelt by his couch, wining her lovely arms about him. " You asked me to put on this dress. )on't you remember, dear?" she said. ' You told me to dress just the same as f you were well. Yoa did not want to >e reminded of your sickness by my atire, you said, and yoix told me to put on his very dress." " Yes, yes. I remember now. You're dear, good girl, Virgie, always humortig my whims. You've been a good rife to the old mnn?unselfish aud deoted. You never married me for my loney, as Blanche said. I am satisfied f that now." "How could you ever doubt me?" fliO IAWIV IfTiP.plpr 1U1U1U1VU l/UV *v ? V.J " 1 don't know but I did. And?and, Virginia, darling, I've something tocon288. Yon know tbat I made my will oon after we were married, and gave you lost of my property ?" "Yes, dear; you told me. I thought was not right then. I had much rather ou had given it all to Blanche. Then he could not think such dreadful things f me." "You are an angel; but listen to me, ly sweet. I was dreadfully jealous of ou afterward. I was jealous of you nd Harry Gaines." Virginia started slightly. "You never had any reason," she said. " You loved him once "? "Never!" cried Virginia. " My darling, do you believe Mr. Judd rill come to-night ? Some one must go ;>r him or Leeds again; my strength is lulinc. I am sure I shall not last till lorning." The face of the young wife whitened gain. "Robert," she said, "what do you rant with a lawyer? Do you wish to Iter your will ? Do you want to leave our property to your daughter Blanche istead of me ?" "Oh, no, no," lie groaned. "What then?" Is it anything you ant altered in it? I will obey your ishes, dear, as imj^licitly as if you had ad a lawyer write them out for you." "Angel! angel!" " Blanche never liked me, but I will o her justice, all the same," Virginia [?id. "Send for Mr. Leeds. I know Judd ( not coming," said the husband. Virginia shuddered. "You do want to make a new will jen ?" she said bitterly. "I did make one?I was jealous of on and Gaines. I thought you hnd lade it up between yon to wait, until I as dead, and then marry and enjoy my touey; so I made a new will secretly, iid gave everything to Blanche. I wish hadn't. I want to alter it now. Send >r the lawyeis again. Virginia, do ?nd " But Virginia had already flown to the ell at the first intimation of this t-errilo truth which she had never guessed. The ready James, her own tool, made is appearance once more. Mrs. Aubrey stepped out and put her anils upon him. " Take the fastest horse in the stables, nd rid? for your lifo after the first j iwyer you can find. If you get him here 3 time you shall have a hundred pounds ourself. James stared at her. " Do you mean ife this time ?" " I mean it. I have made an awful mistake. I shall be a beggar if the lawor doesn't get hero in time to make a rill. Flv!" "I will. I'll have him here in forty ainutes by the clock. The old mau ron't die that soon," James said, as he lashed away. ' ' Virginia Aubrey masked her deceitf il nee in sweetness again, and went back o her dying husband. He seemed sleeping. She elided into the next room and tvifflv rrwnnvinrr hf>r vfilvfit, (lrf'SS T)llfc On i soft, unrnstling wrapper of merino. " It would never do to be seen in a dress ike that at sucb a time," she muttered. Then she went and sat down where ihe could watch the sick man's livid nee and the clock alternately. An hour went by, and no lawyer. Why did not James come back ? James was lying by the roadside, about ; mile away with a broken leg. He had taken the fiercest horse in the fable, and not beiug much of a rider, i ad been thrown. Virginia Aubrey stole out of the room t last?she could endure suspense no onger?and sent auother man after yiwver Judd. It was nearly morning then, and day ras breaking as the lawyer at last rode ip to the door of Aubrey House. Bat he was too late. Virgiuift, going back to her husband fter she had dispatched a second mesenger for Mr. Judd, was struck by the ingular stillness of the room?that wful stillness which we who have ever ? 11 i-V _ J ,1 1 ?een in a room wiui uie ueuu kuuw is ike no other. She went straight to the bedside and ouched the quiet face on the pillow rith her hand. He was dead. The woman shut her teeth hard to ;eep back a scream, and went to searchug the house for that second will of vluch he had told her. But she could not find it. She was still searching when the^aw or arrived. The day of the funeral came. Robert Aubrey was buried with due >ouip and ceremony. His young and lovely widow?lovelier ban ever in her deep mourning?sat in he library after all was over. The first will, which gave her everyhinpr, was in her possession. She sat prepared to produce it if no :;ter will appeared. Blanche Aubrey came in weeping, ,nd recoiled at sight of her. " She never sent me word when poor >apa lay dying, and she know it days >efore ; and* papa died thinking me a iruel, wicked girl," Blanche said to Mr. ludd, who was beside her. The lawyer conducted Blanche to a eat, and bowed to the others in the /v?m Then he proceeded to open n paper ho leld in his hand. Virginia turned cold. It was the second will. ' It gave everything to Blanche. In thwarting lier husband at first in lis wish to make a will Virginia Aubrey lad overreached herself. A Disappointed Local.?The CorpuR Uhristi Times savR : Our local reporter waited four hours the other day to see a Mexican fisherman fall overboard, who lad gone to sleep with bin feet hanging >ver the edge of one of the wharves. \nd that astec enm didn't fall after all, but roused himself, pulled in his line with a ten pound redfish on it, hollered whoopee ! and started up the street to sell the fish for a quarter. And life is full of just such disappointments. TiIE BATTLE OF PLEVNA. , The Greatest Battle of the European War? The HuNitiaii Ariny DlniutlronHly Defeated ?Gallant Charter* of a Ituanlnn Corps. The New York Herald has a full and i graphic account of the great Russian { defeat at Plevna, from which we take the I following thrilling passages : Two brigades of Russian infantry were ! in the Radisovo valley behind the guns ! of General TchekofF8 brigade ? the Thirty-second division on the right, the First brigade of the Thirtieth division on the loft. The leading battalions were ordered to advance over the ridge to attack. The order was hailed with glad cheers, for the infantrymen had been chafing at their inaction, and the battalions, with swift step, streamed forward through the glen and up" the steep slope behind, marching in company columns. The rifle companies led the way. The Russian artillery had afforded active support to this movement by firing with increased rapidity over the heads of the advancing I infantry. It was maintained with such vigor that | it completely covered the column when j the infantrymen had crossed the crest j and were descending the slope and | crossing the intervening valley to the asi sault of the Turkish position. Just be! fore reaching the crest the battalions deployed into line at the double quick, and crossed in this formation, breaking to pass through the intervals between I the guns. I The Turkish shells whistled through I them as they advanced in line, and the j men were alrt^dy slain in great nuin' bcrs, but the io2f. undulating line i tramps steadily over u.e stubbles and | crashes through the unde -growth on the j descent. Beyond, the skirmishing line ! is thrown out in advanct. j The figlitiug line retains the formation ! for a time, until under the combined influences of the impatience of the men and their rapidly thinning ranks, itbueaks | into a rugged spray of humanity and ! surges on swiftly, loosely and with no i close cohesion. The supports are close j up and run up into the lighting line independently and eagerly. It is a veritable chase of fighting men, impelled by a burning desire to get forward and come to close quarters with the enemy, who is firing at them from behind the shelter of the epaulment. Presently, all along the face of the advancing infantrymen burst forth flaring volleys of musketry lire. The jagged line springs forward through the maize fields, gradually assuming a concave shape. A Turkish position is neared. The rolling of rifle fire is incessant, yet dominated by the fiercer and louder turmoil of the artillery above. The ammunition wagons gallop up to the cannon with fresh fuel for the fire. The guns redouble the energy of their firing, the gunners work like demons. The crackle of the musketry fire rises into a sharp peal. The clamor of the hurrahs of the fighting men comes back to us on the breeze, making the blood tingle with the excitement of the fray. Away on the left a village is on fire, the dark smoke risii% from amid the surrounding vineyards in a black pillar against the sky. The white smoke of the buttle rolls up in heavy clouds and curtains in the picture of war that is before us. The fell fury of the battle has entered on ite maddest paroxyisms. The supports that had remained behind, lying just under the crest of the slope, are I A\MiTtnv/1 Awni* ci Krnrr nf pimuiuK v,. hill. The wounded begin to trickle back over the ridge. Wo can seo the dead aud the more severely wounded lying where they fall on the stubble and | amid the maize. The living wave of ! fighting men is pouring over them, ever i on aud on. The gallant gunners to the | right and to the left of us stand to their | work with a will on the shell-swept | ridge. The Turkish cannon fire begins j to waver in that earthwork over against ! us. More suppoti stream down with a louder cheer into the Russian fighting line. Suddenly the disconnected men of tlie advance close up, and are together again in a strong line. We can discern I the officers signaling for the concentra! tiou by the waving of their swords. The distance from the Turkish line is about one hundred yards. A fierce, hoarse shout readies us. but already the rush has begun. With the speed that only comes in tlio last desperate moment of closing on a bitter foe the Russians spring forward. The wild dash is headed by the colonel of one of. the regiments of the Thirty-second division. The Turks in the shelter trench hold | ! their ground. The bristling line of bay| onets is close upon them, but the sons i 1 of Islam, with their blind reliance on | I Kismet, look fate in the shape of the I armed Muscovite steadily iu "the face. ' They tire steadily and with terrible i cfl'cet into the advancing forces. The horse of the gallant colonel who i is leading the charge goes down, but the | ! colonel is on his feet in a second and, waving his sword, leads his men forward ! ou foot. It is only for a few paces. He ; staggers and falls. I heard afterward : that ho was killed. We can hear the : sound of wrath?half howl, half yell? | with which men, bayonets at " the ' charge," rush on to avenge liim. They have not long to wait. It is but a few ! yards now to the Turkish works, and | those are soon traversed. Jn an instant j , they are over the parapet and in among I ; the Turks like an avalanche. The car- j ! nage is seen to be terrible. It is hand j ! to hand and breast to breast. The rush ! which carried the Russians in sweeps all j before it. Not many Turks gr t a chance j to run away from tho gleaming bayonets i i swayed by muscular Russian arms. The ! outer edge of the first position is won. i ; About six o'clock the Turks pressed ! forward a heavy mass of infantry to re- j capture the position. Here Schackoskoy j took a bold step, sending two batteries 1 down into the first position he had taken to keep the returning Turks in check. It j was in vain. The Turks were not to be denied, and in spite of the most de- \ termined fighting by the Russians had | reoccupied their second position before ; i seven o'clock. I The First brigade of the Thirty-fifth , division had early inclined to the left, j where the towers and houses of Plevna were visible. It was rash, for the ! brigade was exposing its right flank to i the Turkish cannon mounted astride of ! the ridge, but the goal of Plevna was a j keen temptation. There waa no thor-1 onghfare, however. They would not j give up and they could not succecd. J They charged again and again, and j when, from sheer fatigue, they could : charge no longer, they stood ami died, j for they would not retire. The reserves j came up, but only to swell the slaughter, j Then the ammunition failed, for the j curts had been left far behind, and nil ! hope vanished. Even the m-"--. sanguine could see no bright Bpot in the gloomy outlook. RIOTS OF THE PAST. Home of tlio Notable One* In this Country* Under our popular system of government, there ought to be no such thing as a riot to enforce a popular claim of any kind; but the people of a free country are not unlike those who live under despotism; there is always an element ready to break out into furious demonstrations to right what is regarded as a grievance. A list of some of the most notable riots since the revolution will be found to include the following: In July, 1812, at Baltimore, a newspaper, opposed to the war with England, was demolished. September 24, 1831, four persons were killed by the militia in a riot at Providence. August 18, 1835, several men killed and wounded in a riot at Baltimore, about the Bank of Maryland. July 10-12, 1834, a riot occurred in New York city, about the supposed aims ? i ._l?in., UUU OUjeUWJ UI liUO AUUllblUUIObO, VTiiu DUD accused of promoting amalgamation. August 21, 1834, a Catholic seminary or nunnery was burned at Charlestown, Mass. August 12, 1834, forty houses were destroyed in an "Abolition" riot in Philadelphia. February 13, 1837, a riot was caused by the " hard times " and high price of flour, and flour warehouses were sacked and the flour destroyed in New York. May 17, 1838, Pennsylvania Hall and other buildings were destroyed by an " Abolition " riot. December 8, 1838, the Pennsylvania Legislature was broken up by a mob, and after several days of riot the militia were called out to suppress the rioters. May 6-8,1844, in a riot between native Americans and Irishmen, thirty houses and three churches were burned, fourteen < -ii _ i ? ^ *?i ji_j mu_ I persons Kiiieu ana iorty wuuuuou. xuc military' was called out to suppress the mob. This riot was renewed July" 7, 1844, when five thousand troops were called out and forty to fifty persons killed before the mob was quelled in Philadelphia. The anti-rent riots in Albany, Rensselaer, Delaware and Columbia counties, New York, from 1844 to 1847, were put down by the State militia, after much disturbance and destruction of property, i The Astor place riot, between the friends of Forrest and Macready, took : place May 10,1849, when several persons, among them many innocent spectators, wore killed. By the great anti-draft riot in New : York, July 13-16,1863, many persons were ' killed and wounded and a number of | buildings were destroyed. July 12: 1871, an Orange procession : which w as guarded by the military, was i attacked by a mob, and the soldiers fired i into the crowd, killing several, the major- ] ity of those who met their deaths being 1 spectators. Several of the military were < also killed, i ? ( The Chief Justice's Wetting. About three weeks ago Chief Justice Horton of Kansas came to Leavenworth from Topeka, and desirous of reaching Atchison that night, concluded to try , and make the train across the river on i the K. C., St. Joe and C. B. road. The , river was at its lushest, and the ferryboat had ceased running for the night. Thinking that the trip could easily be , made in a skiff, lie visited the levee and ( engaged a son of one of the boatmen to take him cross, but the father dared not ; trust his son on the river at that time , < night, it then being about eleven | o'clock, and he refused to let him have the skiff. A bystander who happened to overhear the conversation told the judge that he would take him across. He was engaged, and soon appeared ( with a skiff, and tbey embarked on their ' perilous journey. When about midway the passenger discovered that the boat was rapidly filling with water, and the boatman asked ihe judge if he ' could swim. The judge is not skilled in the art, and told the seaman so. He then told the judge that he would swim, , and taking off his clothes he jumped in. ? He was able to reach shallow water j in safety on Missouii soil, though not without bitterly repenting his folly in attempting to cross the river after dart. The man who furnished the judge with transportation did not own the skiff, but went up this side of the coat shaft and borrowed one that had been lying in the sun ail summer, aud wr.s warped to such an extent that water went through it like a sieve. When the boat reached the other shore it was nearly even full of water. The Canary's Last Song. About a year ago, says a contributor to Applcton'8 Journal, a canary which I dearly prized, and which, in reality, was one of the most intelligent birds that I have ever owned, flew upon a case where some light and a few heavy volumes had been piled rather carelessly. While hopping about he accidentally overturned one of the smaller volumes, his feet became entangled in some way or other, and the whole pile fell over upon him. I heard the chirp of alarm, the crash, and hurried to the rescue, but only to find that both of Goldy's lU^n HUiC k/lUIVCUt J. CUUVIXJ JL 111WV4 UllUj examined the injury, and splintered the fracture as best I could. For three days I nursed the little unfortunate, but without much satisfaction as to the results. I began to think that the bird had received some internal injury, but what it was no one could say. On the fifth day the bird, lying in cotton, was placed on my table ?his old favorite spot, and he knew it well. Presently there was a slight rustling of his wings, he seemed eager to get again upon his feet, but, too wise not to see the foolishness of such an attempt, he contented himself by warbling the snddest and the most touching, if not the loudest, song that he ever sung. Naturalists will tell you that the story of the swan's dying song is only an invention of the poets. No naturalist shall dispute with me that the last song of that dying canary was not his sweetest. Without Interest. A Paris paper has the following : A capitalist is just about leaving Paris for America on pressing business, wTien lie j -r?iioono l-*?a T-?r\/rilro+V>r\r*V nrvnlnininfT 9.0 000 i 1 francs. He cannot afford to lose an hour, and so, with much agony, he goes on his way. At the end of the year he returns, hurries to the prefecture of police,details his loss, and?joy, learns that his wallet is in the bureau of lost objects. Thither he goes, obtains it, and, with trembling fingers and eager spectacles, counts its contents, makes a hurried calculation, and his jaw falls. "Well," said the clerk, " isn't it all right ?" "No," says the baron, "it is short." " Short ? How much ? What do you find there?" I " The year'H interest." Why the Barometer Rises and Falls. First of all, what is a barometer ? It is a tube or pipe, closed at one end and open at the otner, made of some transparent material, such as glass, so that it may be seen through. This tube is filled with the melted metal called mercury, and, when quite fall, the thumb is placed over the open end (so as to keep the mercury from falling out), and the tube is turned upside down. So the closed end is at the top, the open end at the bottom, and, if the thumb were removed, the mercury would, of course, run out. But now suppose you wished not to waste any, and so put the open end of the tube into a basin with some mercury in it, ond then remove your thumb, what would happen ? " Why, the mercury would all run out in the basin," some one will say. But this is a mistake, as the Italian philosopher Torricelli fonnd out; and whatever size or length of tube be taken, the whole of the mercury will not run o^t, but a length of about thirty inches of the tube will remain full of mercury, and you cannot make it run out into the basin unless you either pull the open end of the tube out of the mercury or make a hole in the closed end of the tube. This puzzled Torricelli for a long time, until at last the thought struck him that the only thing which was on the mercury in the basin was the air, and that it was probably the weight of the air pressing on the metal which prevented its running out into the basin. "If so," thought Torricelli, "then if I take my tube and basin of mercury up a mountain, less and less of the tube will remain fnll fnr fhpra ia Avir1fint.lv less air above the basin at the top of the mountain than at the bottom." You may be sure he didn't wait very long before he made the experiment; and to his great delight, he found the mercury getting lower and lower in the tube, thus proving that it really was the weight of the air that kept it in the tube at all; and so the instrument was called a barometer, which is derived from the Greek, and means in plain English a "weight measurer." But if the barometer is watched it will be found to contain different quantities of mercury ou different days. On a fine day the mercury will, as a rule, stand higher in the tube than on a wet clay or just before rain; and now for the reason of this: Why does the barometer rise (or, rather, the mercury in it) in fine weather, and fall when it is going to be wet? * * * Now, dry air is much heavier than wet air, or air containing steam. The consequence is, that when the air gets moist it becomes lighter, and presses less on the mercury of the barometer, so more mercury flows out into the basin, and.consequently, less remains in the tube, or, a? we usually express it, 1he barometer falls. Now, when the air is very wet, there is, of course, more chance of rain than when it I is drv. for rain is formed by the cooling | jf the steam contained in moist air.? Little Folks. Mountains in the ftoon. It is an ascertained fact that there arc three classes of lunar mountains. The [irst of these consists of isolated, separate, distinct mountains of a very curious jharacter. The distinguishing characteristic of these mountains is this?they start up from a plain quite suddenly. On the earth it is -well known that mountains generally go in ranges of groups; but sve find these isoluted lunar mountains standing up entirely apart, never having been connected with any range. The mo named Pico is 9,000 feet high; this mountain has the form of an immense sugar-loaf; and if our readers can immagine a fairly proportioned suga?-loaf 3,000 feet in height, and themselves situated upon it, so as to be able to look 3own upon its apex, they will have an xpprnximato idea of the appearance of L ICO. XilUrt* U1U lUULry utaci luuunwuun jf ft similar description scattered over the aioon's surface, and these mountains not :>uly stand apart from each other, but svliat is still more remarkable, the plains mi which they stand are but slightly disturbed. How singular, then, the influence which shot the mountain up 9,000 feet, and yet scarcely disturbed the plain in the immediate neighborhood. The second class of lunar elevations consists }f mountain ranges. Now, this is the principal features of the mountains on sarth. This phenomenon is also found in the moon, but there is exception; ?uly two principal ranges are found, and ;hese (ippear to have been originally jnly one range. One is called the Appenines. It is so well seen that, just as die line of light is passing through the noon, you will think it is, generally jpealung, a crack in its surface, but a telescope of ordinary power will at once manifest it to be a range of mountains. Hie lunar Appenines may be compared with the loftiest range of mountains upon sarth. It is 18,000 feet high, and there :s another still higher, rising 25,000 feet ibove its base. In this feature, then, ;he moon corresponds with the earth, but with this difference? what is the rule )n the earth is the exception in the noon. Colors of the Ocean. The ocean has naturally a pure bluish ;int. All profound and clear seas are nore or less of a deep blue ; while, ?cjording to seamen, a green color indijntes soundings. The bright blue of the Mediterranean, so vaunted by poets, is "ound all over the deep, pure ocean not Duly in the tropical and temperate zones, but also in the regions of eternal frost, rhe North sea is green, partly from the iandy bottom mixing with the essentially slue tint of the water. In tho bay of Loango the water is of the color of blood, svhicli results from Ihe reflection of the red ground soil. But the hue is much nore frequently changed over large spaces by means of enormous masses of dgaj, and countless hosta of small sea-! ni' ann'mmi'nrr mti flirt i WWJLlliO, w^a wMw surface. Near Callao tlio Pacific lifts au oliveafreen color, owing to the greenish matter "found (it ft depth of 800 feet. Near 3upe Pftlmns, on the coast of Guinea, j apt. Tuckey's ship seemed to eail through milk, a phenomenon which woh awing to the immense number of little white animals swimming on the surface. Die peculiar coloring of the Red sen, tviieuce lis name, is uenveu irom uiu presence of a microscopic algco, or seaweed, lesB remarkable even for its beautiful rod color than for its prodigious fecundity. In many more instances from like causcs the docp blue is varied with strips of yellow, green, brown, orange or red. Small yellowish medus? are the principal agents in changing the pure ultramar'ne of the Arctic ocean into a muddy preen. Of these, it is computed a subic inch must contain sixty-four; a jubic foot, 110,592. It is here that the Bfiaut whale of the north finds his richest pasture grounds. Japanese Night Shops. Tlie great thoroughfare thus lined by gay shops and brilliantly illumined by gas lamps, would in itself be sufficiently attractive; but at this season of the year it is rendered much more teo by the presence of "night Bhops," -which extend in almost a continuous line from Kio bashi to SuzikeL These shop's are kept by very poor dealers, who come out between eight and nine o'clock in the evening and stay till eleven or even later. Their mode of doing business is very simple. Each merchant spreads his meager display of goods on a mat in the gutter, on one corner of which he sits, keeping a sharp lookout for the depredators who crowd about his exposed property. The wares on sale are of the cheapest description, of course, but are attractively arranged, and make a pretty appearance, often, in the weird chiaro oscuro of the torch lamp of tallow saturated paper. Generally secondhand, but sometimes new, they comprise _i l .11 i_*? 3 ? aimosi an miiuu ui guuus iu cuuiuiuii re* quest, such as domestic utensils, books, sandnls, gotas, "chop-sticks," mats, flowers and "curios" of every conceivable and inconceivable shape and purpose. Some stocks are, collectively, of considerable value, but in many cases a fivedollar note would buy out the entire establishment. But to most of their customers such an amount of ready cash is undreamed of wealth; and few of the transactions mount to a higher sum than that for whifh copper coins can suffice as a medium of exchange. Most of these tradesmen have other occupations during the daytime, or go about the streets, with boxes on their backs, picking up trifles at low prices when they can find a promising bargain within their capital. Some, again, ara sent out bv established houses to work off cheap and damaged goods. When not engaged in business, they may be found in very dirty houses called by the Japanese uradana, or back-shops, in inner courts and miserable localities where they make a shift to live. But despite their deej> po/erty they seem to share the liappy disposition of their nation, and a passer-by who stops to examine their wares will find them polite, pleasant and clever. And occasionally it will be worth his while to examine the wares, as, now and then, really very pretty articles may be picked up at very low prices. And the purchaser, sharp as he may think his bargain, may rest assured that he has sent one poor soul happy to bed that night over unaccustomed profits.?Tokio Times. Thoughts for Saturday Nipht. All philosophy lies in two words? " sustain " and "abstain." He who finds pleasure in vice, and pain in virtue, is a novice in both. Men give away nothing so liberally as their advice. One ungrateful man doeB an injury to all who are wretched. Rochefoucauld says we havo more indolence in the mind than in the body. Seneca says that malignity generally drinks the greater part of its own poison. A good word is an easy obligation, but not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs nothing. Judge thyself with a judgment of sin cerity and thou wilt judge others with a judgment of charity. Friendship is like those ancient altars where the unhappy, and even the guilty, found a sure asylum. There are falsehoods that represent truth so well tlxat it would be judging ill not to be deceived by them. Deceit and falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are, in the 6um of life, obstacles to happiness. Men lovo better books which please them than those which instruct. Since their ennui troubles them more than their ignorance they perfer being amused to being informed. If you have talents industry will improve them; if you have moderate abilities industry will supply the deficiencies. Nothing is denied to well direoted labor; nothing is ever obtained without it. An intelligent class can scarce ever be, as a class, vicious; never, as a class, indolent. The excited menial activity operates as a counterpoise to the stimulus of sense and appetite. A dull man is so near a dead man that he is hardly to be ranked in the list of the living; and as ho is not to be buried whilst ho is half alive, so he is as little to be employed whilst he is half dead. When we have practiced good actions awhile they become easy, and when they become easy we begin to take a pleasure in them, and when they please us we do them frequently. Form, then, the habit of doing good. Turkish Dainties. A collection of sweet temptations much carried about in Pera is of the "stickiow " rloanvinfiAn tho hWlr 1irn"nm rAil white and yellow substances are disposed on a flat metal dish, divided into compnrtment8 radiating from the center, where there is a revolving stick with the appreciative twirl round, and the dealer, with an iron skewer that serves for all,scoops out a halfpenny or farthing lick from the sweet at which tho point may st-op. But these dealers are generally Persians; onr Osmanli is of a superior order, and he gravely waits the approach of customers; they quickly j gather round, among them two little Turkish girls under the charge of an old man in a cotton dressing gown and large white turban. The little maidens ore on their way to the day school of the quarter, for their gold-embroidered schoolbags are slung over their shoulders, but they stop soberly at sight of ; the " scheker " and enter upon a serious j bar/rain on the subject of caudy,exacting, I with much show of experience,the largest j lumps obtainable for ten paras; they i are, however, slightly distracted during i the negotiations by the rival charms of j the "mohalibe " which an Albanian is . dispensing at a neighboring house door. "Mohalibe " is a sort of cold jelly composed of ground rice and milk; it is ; served in saucers, powdered with sugar i and sprinkled with roaewater; in the j proper season a lump of clotted cream, | called caimak, is added. There is notli- j ing prettier and more tempting than the j mohalibe trays, when the white jelly is j covered with a clean wet cloth and sur- j rounded with gayly-colored and gilded j saucers, while a richer display of orna mfint.nl nnrcnltiin rises iu tiers at the i back. Then there oro the slim metal! arrow-shaped spoons, and the Oriental- j looking flask* of rosewater with its slender neok. The costume of the " mohalibcdji" completes the picture; he wears the hrcfad Albanian fez, with a ponderous dark blue tassel, and a large striped cloth is bonnd round him like nn apron. ? Temple Bar. The Native Egyptian. The fellah wears but one garment, and suffers from cold in winter, for he has no fire and no bed clothes, except perhaps a kind of quilt He lives on unleavened bread, sour milk, raw vegetables, but sometimes for weeks together has nothing but dried dates. In towns the food is sold ready-cooked, and consists of different kinds of haricots and lentils. His house is roofless, except for a few canes laid across the low mud walls. It contains no furniture; but in upper Egypt there is generally a mat at the door and a sort of raised divan made of mud. He can afford but one wife, who, like himself, has but one garment and a hood or veil, while his children go naked. In this respect, indeed,travelers remark great poverty year by year. There is immense mortality among the children?partly, no doubt, from the dirt in which they are kept, as they are never washed before they are seven vfiarR old. but rmrt.lv also from the ab eence of medical aid and the universal ignorance of the cauBe of disease. The women are in every respect inferior to the men. They are too poor to have employment; they have no stockings to darn, no honse linen to mend, no furniture or cooking implements to clean. They wash their one garment in the river, cleaning it with a piece of mud which acts like soap and pumice combined. They wear their bracelets and necklaces in the Held where they pull corn or herd the cattle. They carry all the water required in their houses from the river in heavy jars, and sit long on the bank gossiping. Women in Egypt do not fiav prayers like the men, and have a soulless expression which contrasts strangely with the intelligent and even noble look frequent among thoir husbands. Their highest idea of life consists in doing nothing. The daughters of a family are kept at home as lon$ as possible, as it is a mark of respectability to retain them at least till they reacn fifteen; but this advanced age is only attained in comparatively wealthy homes. In Nubia the position of women is better. Though the clothing is even scantier than in Egypt, they have some idea of working embroidery, weaving mats, and making baskets; and they keep their houses in better order, spreading the golden sand on the floor and sweeping it clean. There are doors to all the houses, and sometimes an iron lock and even a knocker. Over the doorway there is an attempt at ornament, and a plate or saucer begged from a passing dahabeeah is sometimes inserted. Before the door is a row of round mud bins, like barrels, for storing corn; and there are separate pigeon-houses. The pigeons everywhere eat more than they are worth, and Contribute greatly to the dirt of the houses in lower Egypt. Fever is rare, considering the filth, but there are 6tomach complaints and innumerable skin diseases of great severity. Ophthalmia is said to be decreasing in Cairo since the opening of wider and better watered streets, but everywhere else it is very common, and seems to be carried by the flies from child to child. There ia olarv a muaKorinrlH (ilppninc RinlfTlPRS. *VJ WiUV w ?"X O 7 I about which doctors differ; it is always fatal. A man comcs home from his work, lies down, and sleeps for three days, when he dies. It is impossible to get leave to make a post-mortem examination, though English physicians have repeatedly attempted it. Laughter. Anyone who can laugh at will is certain of a favorable reception in society? particularly when the weather is muggy. Laughter is a social virtue, a prudent accomplishment, an open letter of introduction. It is not necessary to bo funny in order to be able to laugh. Some men laugh like potatoes, without knowing it. 'PlioJ* tnnoa nra annliit.nro/l Mflliinnationa. XUVU 1UWU IMVUVIU^VUAVV* -I ? . The permanent grin, however, palls upon the eye, and at last begins to wear out one's jocularity, and to look as solemn and hideous as the dismal sphinx. Laughing is good by virtue of itn suddenness. It is in its unexpected appeals to the nerves that its power thiefly lies. It does a thoughtful person good to be taken by surprise, and to be tickled into a hearty laugh against his will. It makes him feel as he would after having been electrified. It awakens him, forces blood to circulate, makes him open his eyes, look about him and talk. The crreatest mystery of laughing is its com municativeness. Set one or two going, and the whole circle, although they know not why, fall into the vein. You laugh at laughter, and laugh the more because you know the lees of what you are laughing at. Much potency is there in the association of ideas, and laughing is divisible into a great many modes. ? "All Upside Down," A regiment quartered at a certain town in Scotland had among them an expert gymnast, who taught his brother subalterns how to walk across the barrack room on their hands. While engaged one evening the door opened and the colonel, a stern disciplinarian, entered the room, looked attentively at the inverted company, shook his head gravely and departed without uttering a word. An ordt r to be 011 parade next morning was tho least punishment expected for this breach of discipline. Some days passed, however, and no notice being taken, it was thought an ; apology and explanation should be' ; offered by the prime instigator of these j unsoldierly movements. A reference J being made to the memorable night the colonel amazed tho intended apologist by exclaiming: "Hush, sergeant, I would not have anybody know it for the world ! The fact is, I had been dining out with au old brother officer who had served with me in India, and 'pon my life I had no idea the wine could have had [ such an effect upon me but when I came i to see if you were all right in your quarters I could have sworn that I saw you all upside down." A Slight Mistake. A reputable merchant of Paris found I himself lately walking in the street with-! out his pocket handkerclnet, mum ns services were particularly necessary, \ and, as he was cursing his ill luck, saw, just ahead of him, the familiar figure of a friend who displayed the corner of a most tempting looking handkerchief lapping over his coat-tail pocket. The merchant made a gentle dive for it, but, as ho drew it out, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and, turning round, ho confronted a policeman. No sooner had he turned his head back than the horrid fact revealed itself that the owner of the handkerchief was an , utter stranger. So the unhappy wretch was led off to the police Btation, but i what was his relief to find that the chief officer on duty was an old friend, who, j after a hearty laugh, begged him to acoopt the loan of what he needed, and j s nt him on his way rejoicing. Items of Interest. That harmless South American animal, the armadillo, when in danger, rolls itself into a ball and becomes very hard. The Java squirrel flies from tree to tree by a membrane stretched like a sail. They are about eighteen inches long. At Toronto, Canada, the newsboys have a temperance lodge. The first one organized with eighteen active members. The commitments for crimes in 1831 in Ireland were 9,902, of whom 262 were capitally convicted and tliirty-nine executed. The wearing of rings is very ancient. At one time it was prohibited in Rome to all mechanics and men of mean condition. In Italy July is the month of bread; August tne month of wine. In the first the Roman peasants reap; in the second they gather the grapes. Greece has 101 journals and periodical publications, which gives one for each 14,434 inhabitants. The number of political journals is eighty-two, of which thirty-six appear at Athens. The world's annual production of sugar aggregates 2,140,000 tons of cane sugar, 1,320,000ions of beet-root sugar, 150,000 tons of date sugar, 20,000 tons of maple sugar and 20,000 tons of sorghum sugar. The largest of the pyramids in Egypt is 543 feet high and 693 feet on the sides. Its base covers eleven acres, and many of the stones are above thirty feet in length. To construct it 360,000 men were employed. A Massachusetts machinist has spent fifteen years of his life getting up an automaton which can plainly say: "How do you do ?" He ought now to get up another which will answer: "None of TTrvri-r VmainAaa " The ascendancy of Europe over the other three-quarters of the world in modern ages is attributable to the discovery of gunpowder, made by a monk nbont 1300. This is the only discovery traceable to that class. A public reader says that when he bo< gins to declaim the stirring piece commencing: " Strike the lyre!" the effect of the first sentence on some of his hearers can only be compared to what follows the cry of "low bridge," on a canal' boat. Animals may think, bat sometimes | they do not think very fast. A cow got iuto a garden, in Rome, N. Y., and it her half an hour to make up her mind where to go out. A mo* and dog were flooding her mind with information all j the time, too. A peculiar way of discharging printers I exists in Dayton (Ohio) offices. Each ' -.it t i.:* . compositor 11ns a nan iaj unu^ mo w?u on, and when the foreman concludes to dispense with the services of one of the hands, he takes a hammer and drives the nail in to the 'lead. U last, Wht.. 'ife is old, And vanished are its dream?, Will prospects bright or dark unfold! Will suavo airs come with breath of buds and balms And purple summers lift their fronded palms In low horizons of far seas of gold V Or mystery's voiceless night enfold Us in its dubious arms, And leave a cold Blank past ? Within ten years, no less than 12,000,000 acres of of forest have been cut down or burned over in the United States. Much of the timber is used for fuel, twenty-five cities being ou record as consuming from 5,000 Peres to 10,000 acres each. Fences use up much timber, and railway sleepers require the product of 150,000 acres per annum. The amount of pine and lumber timber yet standing in the forests of the timber i States is estimated at 225,000,000 feet. I The. sum of $144,000,000 is invested in I the timber industry, employing 200,000 j men. A Town of Dwarfs. A writer in the London Times describes tho effect of excessive inter marriage on the inhabitants of Brotes, a little town in the province of Santander, Spain. Untifeighteen or nineteen years ago, the village was quite shut off from the rest of the world. Its inhabitants, from their ever-recurruigintermarri8ges, had become quite a race of dwarfs. On market days the priests might be seen, with long black coats and high black hats, riding in to purchase the simple provision for the week's consumption, men of little intelligence and no learning, sprung from the lowest ranks. About eighteen years ago, the Galician laborers, of Galiegoes, from the mines of Galicia, swarmed into the town for lodging, etc., and since their colonization the population has increased in strength, stature, education, intellect, and morality. Their intellects, also, have im- L~, proved?intellects which have been efnnfml dwnrfpA and ruined bv their frequent intermarriage?. A Poetical Pastor. The pastor of oue of the fashionable churches of Detroit, Mich., is a poet. For years he lias had a small clock in a convenient place under the reading desk by which he could note the hour without losing time by taking out his watch. The clock was lost some time ago and the pastor, who missed it very much, sent to one of his favorite parishioners the following note on a postal card: Your pastor very meekly suggest* Without venturing anv decided behests That a time-piece to the pulpit annexed May keep the people from being vexed By sermons that run to excessive length And tax the popular patience and strength. Pertiaps an hour-glass might do as well By which the passage of time to ti ll; With a beadle to tap with his gentle rod Not only the hearer who ventures to noil. But the* preacher whose words continue to run When the sand in the glass says ho clight t o bo done. That pastor got his time-piec:\ Saved by a Sagacious Dog. The intelligent dog to the front again! Mrs. Edwin French, of Londonderry, Vt.f in attempting to draw water a fewdays ago from a well near the house wai thrown into the well by the breaking of a board. The water was several feet deep, but she managed to keep her head above the surface by clinging to the tmrap pipe. There was no person within J i ?i.iw? SO 11U11 Ui lid VU1UC, UUb LUU IttLLlAlJ UV^, an intelligent and faithful animal, went to the well and looked in. Mrs. French asked him, as she would have asked a human being, if he could not get help. The dog took in the situation instantly, and bounded away toward the hay field where Mr. French was at work. Arrived there he made a terrible uproar, and persisted in his wild actions until Mr. French, fearing that something had happened, followed him to the well and saved his wife from drowning.