The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 22, 1877, Image 1
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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.