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ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER. BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1877. NO. 17. VOLUME XXV. The False Oracle. BY MAEY AINGE DE TEEE. She pickod a little daisy flower With fringe of snow, and heart of gold ; All pure without, and warm within? And stood to have her fortune told. " Fie loves me," low she musing said, And plucked the border leaf by leaf ; " A little?too much?not at all? With truest heart?beyond belief." " A little? too much?not at all"? So rang the changes o'er and o'er ; The tiny leaflets fluttered down, And strewed the meadow's grassy floor. " 1\ lllliu?IUU QIUUU?uut at uu? With truest heart"?oh, magic brief A.h, foolish task, to measure out Love's value on a daisy leaf ! For she pulled the latest left With " not all left," I heard her say, " Ah, much you know, you silly flower, He'll love me till his dying day." ?Scr timer's. "Who Was My Quiet Friend?" BY BKET HAKTF, " Stranger!" The voice was not loud, but clear and penetrating. I looked vainly up and down the narrow darkening trail. No one in the fringe of alder ahead ; no one on the gullied elope behind. " Oh ! stranger !" This time a little impatiently. The Californian vocative. "Oh," always ^ meant business. I looked up, and perceived for the lirsfc time, on the ledge, thirty feet above me, another trail parallel with my own, and I looking down upon me through the ' buckeye bushes a small man on a black 1 horse. . ' Five things to be here noted by the circumspect mountaineer. First, the : locality ? lonely and inaccessible and j1 away from the regular faring of teamsters 11 and miners. Secondly, the stranger's j superior knowledge of the road from the i1 fact that the other trail was unknown to j1 the ordinary traveler. Thirdly, that he I was well armed and equipped! Fourthly, j that he was better mounted. Fifthly, i that any distrust or timidity arising from 1 the contemplation of these facts had * better bo kept to oneself. ' *'-? ' All this passed rapidly through my 1 miud as 1 returned his salutation. I '' Got any tobacco ?" he asked. I had, and signified the fact, holding i up the pouch inquiringly. f " All right, I'll come down. Ride on, t and I'll jine ye on the slide." 1 "The slide?" Here was a new geographical discovery as odd as the second trail. I had ridden over the trail a * dozen times, and seen no communication 1 between the ledge and trail. Neverthe- 1 less I went on a hundred yards or so, ! when there was a sharp crackling in the < uuderbrush, a shower of stones on the i trail, and my friend plunged through f the bushes to my side down a grade that ' I should scarcely have dared to lead my i horse. There was no doubt be was an < accomplished rider?another fact to be j noted. i As he ranged beside me I found I was j 1 not mistaken as to his size; he was quite i | under the medium height, and, but, for i a pair of cold gray eyes, was rather com- 1 monplace in feature. 1 " You've got a good horse there," I i suggested. I He was filling his pipe from my pouch, j bnt looked up a little surprised, and j i said: "Of course." He then puffed : I away with the nervous eagerness of a man long deprived of that sedative, i Finally, between the puffs, ho asked me ! whence I came. ' I replied from " Lagrange." ?io looked at me a tew moments cnnonsjy, but on my adding that I liad only halted there for a few hours, he said: " j thought I knew every man between Lagrange and Indian Spring, but somehow I I sorter disremember your face and your name." Not particulary caring that he shonld remember either, I replied, half laughingly, that as I liv?*l the other side of | I Indian Spriug, it was quite natural. He | ' took the rebuff?if such it was?so quiet- 1 ly, that as an act of mere perfunctory politeness, I asked him where he camo ' from. "Lagrange." . ' " And you are going to" 'Well! that depends pretty much on ! how thiugs pan out, and whether I can i make the riffle." He let his hand rest \ i quite unconsciously on the leathern h holster of his dragoon revolver, yet with I ! a strong suggestion to mo of his ability i " to make thu riffle " if he wanted to, and added: "But just now I was reck- < 'nin' on takiug a little^owear with you." ) There was nothing offensive in his i Bpe^cU, save its familiarity and the reflec- ' * tfon, perhaps, that whether I objected |; i. i.- .Li. .1 i.. ! , or not, uu wiis quu? iiuit) v) uo :i>> ui: i said. I only replied that if ourpattcar [ ! ' Wiiff prolonged beyond Heavytree 11,1], I ' ] should have to borrow his beast. To my surprise, he replied quietly: " That's j < so," adding that the horse was at^nydis- ' < posal when lie wasn't using it, and half < \of it when he. was. "Dick has carried I i donble many'n time before this," he ' < continued: J4 and kin do it again; when ; your ranstnng gives out, I'll givq you a I f ' 1 .and room to Rpare." I I could not help smiling at the idea 1 of appearing before the boys, at Red ; ' Gulch cn croupr, with the stranger; but < ' neither could 1 help being oddly affected < bj the suggestion that his horse had done double duty before. "On what ' occasion, and why ?" was a question I i . kept to myself. We were ascending the 1 long rocky flank of the Divide; the nar- ! rowness of the trail obliged us to pro- : ceed slowly and in file, so that there was little chance for conversation, had he been disposed to satisfy my curiosity', We toiled on in silence, the buckeye j giving way to chiinual, the westering snn, reflected again from the blank walls beside us, blinding our eyes with its glare. The pines in the canyon below i . were olive gulfs of heat, over which a ' hawk here aud -tln-re -drifted lazily, or . rifling to our levei, cast a weird and - gigantic shadow of slowly moving wings , on the mountain side. The superiority of the stranger's horse led him often far * in advance, and made me hope that he might forget me entirely, or push on, j grown weary of waiting. But regularly he would halt by a boulder, or reappear , " " from some chbni$ai, where ho had patiently halted. I was beginning to ' miwmm mildly, when at one of those ! reappearances ne drew up to my side,and ' ?t asked me how I liked Dickens! Had lie asked my opinion of Huxley or Darwin, I could not have been more astonished. Thinking it were possible that lie referred to some local celebrity of Lagrange, I said, hesitatingly: " You mean ?" " Charles Dickens. Of course you've | re-*d him ? Which of his books do you i liLo best ?" ' I replied with considerable embarra merit that I liked tliem all?as I certa: ly did. He grasped my hand for a mome with a fervor quite unlike his usi phlegm, and said. "That's me, c mun. Dickens ain't no slouch. Y can count on him pretty much all t time." With this rough preface, he launch into a criticism of the novelist, wlii for intelligent sympathy and hearty a preciation I had rarely heard equalc Not only did he dwell upon the exub< ance of his humor, but upon the pow of his pathos and the all pervading e, ment of his poetry. I looked at the m in astonishment. * I had considered m self a rather diligent student of the gre master of fiction, but the strange: felicity of quotation and illustrate _i. a ti _ l il..i "i. suiggereu me. ?t is iruu iuul hi? tiiuug was not always clothed iu the b? language, and often appeared iu t] slouching, slangy undress of the pla aud period, yet it never was rustic n homespun, and sometimes struck e with its precision and fitness. Oonsi erably softened toward him, I tried hi with other literature. But vainl Beyond a few of lyrical anil emotion poets, be knew nothing. Under the i fiuence and enthusiasm of his ov speech, he himself had softened consi erably; offered to change horses wi me, readjusted my saddle with jtrofe sional skill, transferred my pack to L own horse, insisted upon my sharii the contents of his whisky flask, ar noticing that I was unarmed, preset upon me a silver mounted Derringe which he assured mo he could " wa :ant." These various offices of got will and the diversion of his talk b guiled me from noticing the fact tli the trail was beginning to become o scure and unrecognizable. We we evidently pursuing a route unknov before to me. I pointed out the fact my companion a little impatiently. I instantly resumed his old manner ai lialect. " Well, I reckon one trail's as got i-1 1 ?4-* at A? HUULUCl, illlU Willi!* IICV jc 5*^1/ w oc ibout it ?" I pointed out, with some dignity, til [ preferred tlio old trail. " Mebbee yon did. But youVo ji low takin' a})cwear with me. This y* rail will bring you right into India Spring, and ounoticed, aud 110 qucstioi vsked. Don't you mind now, I'll s< t'ou through." It was necessary here to make son itnnd against my strange companion, .aid firmly, yet as politely as I coult hat I had proposed stopping over nigl vith a friend. "Whar?" I hesitated. The friend was an eccei ric Eastern man, well known in tli ocality for his fastidiousness and h; labits a6 a reoluse. A misanthrope < iniple family and ample means he ha :hosen a secluded but picturesque voile u the Sierras, where ho could ra igainst the world without oppositioi ' Lone Valley," or " Boston Ranch," f t was more familiarly called, was tli ?ne spot that the average ruiuer bot ospected and feared. Mr. Sylveste: ts proprietor, had never affiliated wit 'the boys," nor had he ever lost the -espect by any active opposition to the deas. If seclusion had been his obje< te certainly was gratified. Nevertlu ess, in the darkening shadows of tli night, and on a lonely and unknot rail, I hesitated a little at repeating h name to a stranger of whom I knew f iittle. But my mysterious companic iook the matter out of my hands. "Look yar," I10 said, suddenly, "thi lia't but one place twixt yer aud India Spring whar ye can stop, and that Sylvester's.". I assented, a little sullenly. " Well," said the stranger, quietly ind with a slight suggestion of cjouferrir x favor on me, " Ef you're pointed f< Sylvester's?why?I don't mind stoppir thar with ye. It's a little off the roadL'll lose some time?but taking it by an large I don't m::ch mind." I stated, as rapidly and as strongly i I could, that my acquaintance with M Sylvester did not justify the introdu tion of a stranger to his hospitalitytliat he was unlike most of tho peop lierc?in short, that he was a que< man, etc. To my surprise my compauion ai swcred quietly: "Oh, that's all righ I've lieerd of him. Ef you don't fe like checking me through, or if you rather put ' C. O. D.' on my back, wl it's all the same to me. I'll play alone. Only you just count me i S-iy 'Sylvester' all the time. That ine!" What could I oppose to this man miVk aRsiir;nif?p ? T fclfc mvself irrowir red with anirer and nervous with emba rassment. What would the correct ?Sy rosier say to me? What would tl ?irls?I was n young man then, and In ivon an entree to their domestic circ by my reserve?known by a less coe :>iimentary adjective among the " boys ?what would they say to my now a inaiutance ? Yet I certainly could n< jbject to his assuming all risk on h )wn personal recognizances, nor could resist a certain feeliug of shame at n embarrassment. We were beginning to descend. ] he distance below us already twinkle ;he lights in the solitiiry rancho of Bor Valley. ..I turned to my companioj But you have forgotten that I don ;ven know your name. What am I I jail you ?" "That's so," he said musingl; "Now, let's see. 'Kearney' would 1 \ good name. It's short and easy lik rhar's a street in 'Frisco the same titl Kearney it is." " But"? I began, impatiently. " Now you will leave all that to me he interrupted, with a superb self-co: tidence that I could not but odmir " The name ain't no account. It's tl man that's responsible. Ef I -was to li for a man that I reckoned was nam< Jones, and after I fetched him I foui out on the inquest that his real nun was Smith?that wouldn't make 110 rar ter, as long as I got the man." The illustration, forcible as it was, d not strike me as offering a prcpossef ing introduction, but we were alrea* at the rancho. The barking of do brought Sylvester to the door of t! pretty little cottage which his taste hi adorned. I briefly introduced Mr. Koarne "Kearney, will do?Kearney's go enough for me," commented the- s( disant Kearney half aloud, to ray ot horror and Sylvester's evident mystific tion, and then he blandly excused hii self for a moment that I10 might perso ally supervise the caro of his own beai When he was out of ear shot, I drew t puzzled Sylvester aside. " I have picked up?I meau I ha been picked iq> on the road by a genl maniac, whose name is not Kearney. J is well armed and quotes Dickens. Wi care, acquiescence in his views on 1 ss- subjects, and general submission to his ] in- commands, he may be placated. Doubtless the spectacle of your helpless ;nt family, the contemplation of your lal daughter's beauty and innocence, may >ld touch his fine sense of humor and pathos. c ou Meanwhile, Heaven help 70U, and for- c lie give me." J I ran up stairs to the little den that 1 et] my hospitable host had kept always re- r cjj served for me in my wanderings. I ,p_ lingered Bome time over my ablutions, J hearing the languid, gentlemanly drawl : 3rl of Sylvester below mingled with the J er equally cool, easy Blang of my mysteri- 1 |e. ous acquaintance. When I came down 0 an to the sitting-room I was surprised, how- E jy. ever, to find the self-styled Kearney n ,ftj quietly seated on the sofa, the gentle 1 r'8 May Sylvester, the "Lily of the Lone , on Yailey," sitting with maidenly awe and *! unaffected interest on one side of him, )3t while on the other that arrant flirt, her u |ie cousin Kate, was practising the pitiless v 1 ' 1 ?in. ? ??1 n ce arcnery 01 ner eyes, wim uu ciuicun-jji, . or that seemed almost real. ne " Who is your deliciously cool friend?" Q j. she managed to whisper to me at supper " m as I sat utterly dazed and bewildered J y, between the enrapt^May Sylvester, who al seemed to hang upon his words, and this ? n. giddy girl of the period, who was emptyrn ing the battery of her charms in active ft rivalry npon him. "Of course wo know P tlj his name isn't Kearpev. But how l3_ romantic ! And isn't he perfectly lovely? 8 [jg And who is he?" . " & jg I replied with severe irony that I was not aware what foreign potentate was * then traveling incognito in the Sierras ,'r of California, but that when his royal 8 jl higluiess was pleased to inform me, I jj should be.glad to introduce him jiropere. ly. "Until then," I added, "I fear 0 at the acquaintance must be Morganatic." a b. " You're only jealous of him, she said FJ rc pcrtlv. "Look at May?she is com- b m pletely fascinated. And her father too." P to Aud actually, the languid, world-sick, [e cynical Sylvester was regarding him u| with a boyish interest^ and enthusiasm J1 almost incompatible with his nature. " K] irt)t I submit honestly to the clear-head- ^ iy cd reason of my own sex, that I could a see nothing more in the man than I have * at already delivered to the reader. In the middle of an exciting story of J"1 ss adventure, of which he, to the already ;c sr prejudiced mind of his fair auditors, ** ? was evidently the hero, he stopped sud is denly. " Jf' 3e "It's only some pack-train passing the " bridge on tlie lower track," explained ie Sylvester, "Goon." # I "It may be my horse is a trifle uneasy ] in the stable," said the alleged Kearney; it "he ain't used to boards and covering," Heaven only knows what wild and de- n licious revalation lay in the statement of "j1 j. the fact, but the girls looked at cach e other with cheeks pink with excitement r* [s as Kearney arose, and with quite ab3f sence of ceremony, quitted the table. . r? ,(1 "Ain't he just lovely I" said Kate, ,y gasping for breath, " and so witty." A il "Witty!" said gentle May, with just n h the slightest trace of defiance in her ?( ig voice. "Witty, my.dear? why don't ,e you see that his heart is just breaking b h with pathos? Witty, indeed; why, when r he was speaking of that poor Mexican * jj woman that was hung, I saw tears 11 ir gathering in his eyes. Witty, indeed !" jr "Tears," laughed the cynical Sylves- ^ ter, " tears, idle tears. Why, you silly ir g. children, the man is a man of the world ^ ie ?a philosopher, quite, observant, unas- ?' n suming." . j3 " Unassuming !" Was Sylvester in- aJ }0 toxicated, or had the mysterious strangin er mixed tjie "insane verb" with the family pottage ? He returned before I S ,r could answer this self-asked inquiry, ri m and resumed coolly his broken narrative, n s Finding myself forgotten in the man I c: had so long hesitated to introduce to w my friends, I retired to rest early, only w j to hear, through the thin partitions, two b ,g hours later, enthusiastic praises of the t< jr new guest from the voluble lips of the q ,g girls, as they chatted together in the _ next room before retiring. h [(j At midnight I was startled by the rj sound of horses' hoofs and the jingling d 18 of spurs below. A conversation beT tweeu my host and some mysterious ^ C1 personage in the darkness was carried y _ on in such a low tone that I could not ]e learn its import. As the cavalcade rode ^ 2r away, I raised the window. " What's the matter?" ,, q_ "Nothing," said Sylvester, coolly," t "only another one of those playful ej homicidal freaks peculiar to the country. t] j A man was shot by Cherokee Jack over a jy at Lagranere this morning, and that was " ^ the sheriff of Calaveras and' his posse 8 D> hunting him. I told him I'd seen no- ^ ;'g body but you and your friend. By the 11 way, I hope the cursed noise hasn't dis- e 's tnrbed him. The poor fellow looked as though he wanted rest." \ r. 1 thought so, too. Nevertheless, I li j. went softly to his room. It was empty, a J0 My impression was that he had distanced s u| the sheriff of Calaveras about two hours, s le , : ~ r (l. Words of Wisdom. p " He that is everywhere is nowhere. j1 c- Confidence generally inspires con- ^ fideuce. w The greatest scholars are not the -i wisest men. lJ Nothing is so uncertain as the minds j. . of the multitude. fl No excellent soul is exempt from a i; je mixture of folly. . n a. i To what use serves learn:'1 j if the f; ,'t i understanding be away. p to If iudividuals have no virtues their 0 vices may be of use to us. ? Age makes us not childish, as men say; ^ it finds us still true children. Ij e" Two things the most opposite blind ^ ' : us equally?custom and novelty. y FisheB live in the sea as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones. ^ a- A kiss ought to be a mark of honest v e. affection, not a weapon of hypocrisy. v ie i Prosperity does best discover vice, >.t] ^ but adversity does beat discover virtue. ^ 1(j j Reason cannot show itself more reason- P ae | ably than to cease reasoning on things ^ I above reason. jq ! A Little Off. t; is-1 A Detroiter called at a livery stable 0 ly to secure a rig to take liis wife out for a n gs ride, and he made it a point to ask for a ^ he i docile animal. While the horse inteLd- P ad cd for him was being hitched up she 11 reared up and acted very nervous, and " y. the proprietor explained : a od "You needn't be a bit afraid of her. ^ ri- She's simply a little off, to-day." 0 to The citizen got into the carriage, was 8 a- 1 whirled around the corner, and nothing F in-1 more was seen of him for two hours. c n- -i Then he came limping back and asked : 0 3t. ! "That horse was a little off, wasn't ? lie she?" j "Yes." r vo| "Well, she kept growing offer and a He offer "till I concluded to get out, and 6 lo ! then the way she got off altogether was 11 th ' bail for the buggy. Go aDd get the all1 pieces, and we'll settle up." ?ARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. Farm Notes. Running spring water is far better for sows whose milk is intended for firsfcilass butter or cheese, than pond water >r even than well water, since the qualify of the water influences the milk as auch as the character of the food. Spruce butter tubs are the best; riiite hemlock makes a sweet tub ; acids rom the oak color the bntter and inure its appearance ; white ash gives he butter a strong flavor if kept long nd increases the liability to mould; aaple smells and cracks badly. Soak II i v _ r _r_ j u_ .11 tUUtt luur mj bli uivyts m uiiuc uuuio ising. Alonzo Crafts has found a good use or sour cider. Ho had a sow with a itter of nine pigs which the sow would ot own. and towards which she was ery violent, and but for their timely reloval tho little pigs would all have ?een killed. He gave the sow two uarts of sour cider and in a few mintes she lay down evidently "the worse ar liquor. While she was in this conition the pigs were twice put to her to uck, and when she recovered from her ' drunk " she owned the pigs all right, nd now seems exceedingly fond of her rogeny. Have just examined a piece of everreen sweet corn which was planted with sed selected by using only the upper ar where two grew on a stalk last year, 'he result is that nearly every stalk has vo ears on; even five stalks in one hill ave ten good ears, and I think that idre were as many single stalks with iree ears on as there were with only tie, but the two ears to thts stalk were Imost universaL Now, as we are so often ^minded that we can improve our corn y selecting seed, lot us take the more ains thus to improve this most noble .merican product:?Rural Home. The farm of John Hawley, Brant N. Y., ho has practiced the soiling system of seding for some time, contains fifty 2res, all of which, with the exception of piece of timber and rough land, is under very high state of cultivation. Upon le place are about ten head of cattle, vo norses and perhaps a few head of >ose stock at times. There are about m acres devoted to small fruits, such as ;rawberries, raspberries, blackberries, jc. , leaving but forty acres to furnish ;ed for the horses and cattle during le year. The cows are many of them rade Ayrshires, and Mr. Hawley is lrning his whole herd, to this breed as ist as possible, as he thinks it adapted > this system of feeding better than the lajority of breeds. To adopt this rstem, preparations must be begun in le fall,'it appears, as some plant must be )adyto cut early in spring. A piece E winter rye, large enough to furnish a lonth's feed or so, is sown in the fall hich is ready to cut the latter part of pril or beginning of May : then follows lillet (two or three varieties), clover, )\ved corn, etc. As fast as a crop is tken off another should be sown, thuB eeping the land under crop all the hile. Mr. Hawley claims that his til increases in fertility every year ; I fact, it looks reasonable that a lot of reods will exhaust the soil just as much n some profitable plant. Then the tanure pile is being constantly increascl, and the moro crops raised the more utilizing material is there returned to Great care should bo taken to save II the liquids.?Chautauqua Farmer. Ilonnehold Hint*. To Prevent Decay in Meats.? prinkle on plenty of pulverized borax; :ib it well into the meat, and let it relaiu five or ten minutes on ice, or iongr, if desired. Just before cooking ash it well in a strong solution of borax ater, and do not rinse again. If it is to e boiled or parboiled, add a little borax ) the water in which it is boiled; a uarter of a teaspoonful will answer. To Keep Lemons Fresh.?Place them 1 a jar with water enough to cover them, 'hey will keep fresh in this way several ays without changing the water. To Cube Bunions.?Bind a tine linen and tightly around the foot and over ie bunion, sew it on if necessary, and ear it day and night; bathe the feet requently in strong borax water, using tea8poonful of pulverized borax to a asin of water. To Bid a Dog of Fleas.?Wash him lioroughly with common soft soap, such a they use on board ships; or place im on a newspaper and rub Persian inect powder well over him, and the fleas rill drop out on the paper and die allost immediately. This method is also ffective with rats. To Make Calico Transparent and Waterproof.?Take six pints of pale Inseed oil, two' ounces Of sugar of lead, nd eight ounces of white resin ; the ugar of lead must be ground with a mail ouantitv of it. and added to the emainder. The resin should be incoriorated with the oil by means of gentle eat. The composition may then be lid on calico, or any other Buch material, >y means of a brush. Breaking Glass to Any Bequibed Figure.?Make a snail notch by means f a file on the edge of a piece of glass, hen make the end of a tobacco pipe, or rod of iron of the same size, red-hot ti the fire, apply the hot iron to the otch, and draw it slowly along the surace of the glass in any direction yon lease; a crack will follow the direction f the iron. Good Use for Soap-Suds.?Save your cashing sudsior the garden; if they are oured over the roots of the.plnm trees, bey will kill the curcnlio; if turned at be roots of the geraniums, roses, etc., bey will enchance their beauty tenfold. To Clean Colored Silk.?Wash in rann soap-suds, rinse in clear, warm rater, dry quickly, and iron on the rong side while yet rather damp. If liere are grease spots on the silk, press rith a tolerably warm iron under brown aper. ? . , Exercise and Occupation. Exorcise f-?r the body, occupation for , lie mind?tlxere are the grand constitu- j nts of health and happiness, the cardial points upon which everything turns. : lotion seems to bo a greater preserving rinciple of nature, to which even inani-1 late things are subject; for the wind, j lie waveB, the earth itself are restless, nd the waving of trees, shrubs and lowers is known to be an essential part f their economy. A fixed rule of taking everal hours of- exercise every day, if lossible in the open air, if not, under over, will be almost certain to secure ne exemption from disease, as well as rom the attacks of low spirits, or ennui, hat monster who is ever waylaying the ich and indolent, " Throw but a stone nd the giant dies." Low spirits can't, xist in the atmosphere of bodily and j jental activity. Woman's province?The Isle of Man. ' OREGON BILL. Homo Fftcts About a Noted Hcout and Hunter. William Spence, alias Oregon Bill, is in many respects a remarkable man. In stature be is about five feet nine inches. His compressed lips and well set jaws indicate a determined will. His nose is well shaped; his eyes are gray, but full of animation, and more especially when interested in conversation, and his forehead is high and well shaped. With these featufes he has long flowing black hair. The whole personnel of the man is pleasing, and in marked contrast with his reckless daring. He converses intelligently, and after the fashion of well educated men. As a nunter, trapper Indian fighter, marksman and wanderer lie is justly noted. He has been for about eight weeks, and is still, confined to his bed, in this city, from a cut on one of his feet. He is, however, convalescent. ^ His birth place is Port Natal, Sout1* Africa, and he has hardly yet reached, forty. His father having been killed in battle, his widow, with her son William, the subject of this sketch, immigrated to England, where, through the influence of friends, he soon was placed at the Royal Naval School at Greenwich, where his progress was satisfactory; but ho could not be contented. His daring and adventurous nature sought the sea, and to a man-of-war he went. He was at sea for years, and during the time distinguished himself for his bravery in two engagements with pirates on the j coast of Africa. He participated with credit to himself in the last war with Russia, and was present at the fall of Bolaklava. Becoming averse to being further on the sea he came to America and joined the Hudson Bay Fur Company. For this company he travelled much among the Indians, gathering peltiy. The year 1860 found him in Portland, Oregon; from thence he went to St. Paul, Minn.; here he remained one winter and was employed during that time by General Solly in a service ; that was at once delicate and responsible, which he discharged to the entire satisfaction of his commander. From St. Paul he went to Kansas, and there al- i ternately engaged in driving teams and buffalo hunting. From 1860 to 1865 he was an Indian fighter on the frontiers of Kansas and Texas, and in an engagement with the red men on an occasion in which the whites were victorious, after a Vvlrtrt/lw Vvnn/1 4-r\ l%nn/1 rrllf lia 1Q OQirl f/> uiwuj uuuu w uauu uguv) uu uh*m w have killed seven warriors with his pistol and bowie knife. During this period he spent some time in Missouri, and was afr Independence during General Price's raid. In 1872 he went East, attracting i much attention, his exploits having pre- ; ceded him. His companions were W. F. Cody, known as Buffalo Bill, and J. B. Omahundra, alias Texas Jack. In 1873 he was the bearer of important dispatches to General Garcia, in Cuba, which he safely delivered. Beturning, he came West, where he has since been engaged in trapping, hunting and acting as guide for foreign tourists. As an evidence of the man's wonderful accuracy in shooting, and it must be said also of 1 recklessness, I will give two remarkablo instances : In Portland, Oregon, lie had a friond, John O'Madigan, now of this city. While O'Madigan was walking along the street smoking his pipe, and at a distance of ten feet, and at about a ; right angle, Bill suddenly drew his pistol and fired, the ball taking the pipe from the mouth of his friend, but doing him i no harm. Aqaiu, last fall, Bill was in Lake City with deer for sale, and seeiug his old friond O'Madigan passing up the same street, on the opposite side, he ; called to him to stop. When ho had drawn his revolver John did s^, facing : him at the time. Bill fired, and the ball i passed through the top of the hat of his ; friend. O'Madigan, in the best of : humor, called out: "Bill, don't shoot any more; it is too close." The history of this remarkable man will at some future time fill one of the most important chapters in a book of romance.?Denver Tribune. A Governor's Gratitude. Probably the oddest genius who ever occupied a public position in Missouri was the late Robert M. Stewart. He lived in St. Joseph, where he rose in political power, liie first president of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad, he was called its father. He was elected governor in 1857. When Doniphan's expedition was organized to go through New Mexico and co-operate with the main United States army in 1847, Bob Stewart was a member of a company raised in Buchanan county. Four days out his gun was accidentally discharged, the contents entering one of his legs, shattering a bone and disabling him. One of the company, William Grover, was detailed to remain with Stewart. Grover watched over his friend with the care of a brother, and Stewart, not then dreaming of his future distinction, said : '' Bill, old fellow, I'll pay you back some day ! The time will come!" Ten years later Bill Grover, the friend of Stewart was arrested as a participant ?' iJU lb pUiltlUUl uniuu, biicuj u/urxuucu auu sentenced to the penitentiary for ten years. Not long after his conviction, Stewart was nominated for governor. He saw his friend just before he was incarcerated, antl said: " Bill, the first thing I do after I'm inaugurated will be to pardon you out. And I'm sure to be elected." Bob was elected and inaugurated. True to his word and the native instincts of gratitude, he went to the penitentiary and inquired for Bill Grover. He was not there. He was one of a detail called out to dig a well in Jefferson City, and was then engaged in that work. Off the governor posted to the well in which Grover was at work. On reach-1 ing th?i place, he leaned over the well and cried out: j "Bill, are you there !" "Who's that?" asked a voice from the 1 subterranean deeps below. "It's me?Bob Stewart! Come up j out o' there ! I've pardoned you." In a few minutes Grover was hauled ' 1 up ont of the well. Then was exhibited the curious spectaclo of the governor of i n great State wanting tnrougn uiu bu cuuj i of the capital arm-in-arm with a 6tripe- J ^ suited convict. He took his old friend ' up to a clothing store rigged him out in ' > a new suit, and made him a guest at the , ] governor's mansion, afterward providing j for him a start in business. < I Tne Queen of Madagascar has by i < public proclamation liberated the whole 1 of the slaves in the island. By a treaty < with E'lgland in 1865 she engaged that ' the prni;tico of buying and selling slaves i should bo discontinued, buther subjects 1 1 j-j i I i navnip eviiueu mu lactiuy m u <ja- . teutby preteuding that their slaves were j 1 purchased before the treaty came into :' force, tbe decisive step taken by the i queen has been rendered necessary, ' I A LOST LIFE. Memoir of a Ulan Who Died at Seventv-One. A Yet Never Lived at All. A few weeks ago there was found dead in his house at Dijon, France, Paul Legrand, a man of seventy-one, and a J well-known character of the city. Evi- f dences of suicide, in the presence of a 0 half-emptied laudanum bottle, and a tumbler with the dregs of a dose of poison in the bottom, were at hand, and ? on the table beside them was the follow- J ing most curious memoir?a uemoir which will take its place in the collection v ?? :??n>l S UA JUUC1UI V V/lUIUDlllUO Ui bUO UCUVIUJ, (UiU by which tho author seems to have v {)roved, very conclusively for himself, at I east, that, dying at the age of seventy- e one, ho had not really lived at all: 0 "All suffering, pain, ennui, despair, ? sorrow, desire and regret should be * taken from our lives," he writes, and * then proceeds to deduct those experi- jj ences from his own score of years, and to foot up the loss. ^ The whole memoir may perhaps be jj explained by one of the opening clauses: ? "At the age of three years I wus ? weaned," it says. " At six I spoke, but badly; at seven years I cracked my ? skull, and at nino was cured. I there- ? fore deduct these nino years from my ? existence- for it cannot be called life to drink the sour milk of the nurse, to a speak incoherently, to crack one's skull 8 " At nine years I began my studies; c; but having a hard head, in consequence a of my cracked skull, I was slow of in- " Btruction. At the end of two years I ? knew my alphabet, but at what cost! ^ The letter Z alone cost me 1,400 blows *.J with a ruler, and the twenty-three others * martyred me. At twelve years I could " read, it was true, but my body was a wealed with those alphabetical scars. 8' "They now endeavored to teach me ^ Latin, and I forgot my French. At fif- P teen years I knew absolutely nothing at ? all, and in consequence of a bread-and- 11 water diet was a mere skeleton. I there- P fore deduct, for my school days, six ^ years more from my miserable life. a "At fifteen my father apprenticed me as cierK 10 a notary. m ow commeiiceu a i ? new species of martyrdom. I rose at | ? six, swept the office, built the fire, and ** was kicked by the head clerks, while my 8' father, in consequence of the complaints r< made against me, deprived me of my " dinner. The five years I spent this way 9j I deduct off what is left of my life. " At twenty years my father, disgusted ^ with me, shipped me on a vessel at j* Cherbourg. I washed the forecastle, ~ coiled the cables, climbed the masts, " reefed the sails, and received at least e: th.rty blows on the back with a marlin- ?* spike each day. This lasted for four a) years, and at the end I had no back left at all. 01 '' At twenty-four years my father made 8 me a mercer, and married me to the 01 daughter of a turner. On the night of 81 the wedding I discovered that my wife ? had a wooden leg, manufactured by her b father. The poor woman made me a ^ thousand excuses, and I pardoned her " in consideration of her dowry, of 30,000 | fraucs, invested in a mortgage on a ^ Gaudaloupe sugar plantation. ?But soon b the negroes of Guadalotipe revolted and " burned my dowry. Nothing was left me ? but the wooden leg. " "At thirty years I lost my wife of a ? tnmoron her good leg. I had passed the six u years of my married life repeating every minute : ' What a fool I was to take that ? wooden leg!' I therefore deduct these ? six years from life. " "Having, like all the world, spent a ^ third of my life in sleep, I deduct twenty-four years more, which is less than a " just estimate, as I am a great sleeper. ? "One year more I lost, minute for minute, in hunting for the key of my secretary, which I always mielaid. Three " years vanished by my making such re- ? marksas 'What time is it?' 'It is bad J? weather to-day,' 'I'm tired,' lMon Deau! *( Mon DieuV etc. Six months spent in r' blacking my boots, and six in brushing ^ my hat. One year lost in the between ^ acts at the theater. Auother in listening P to new plays. One year again in com- ' plaining of soups with too much salt in " thera, of overdone cutlet?. indigestions, " and hard eggs. Total, then, seventy- * one years. . 8 ' I think, then, that in rendering np ray life to God, I am not making Him a C present of anything of much account." v , > t( Death of a Noted "Medium." ^ The Sidney (Australia) News says: d Mr. W. H. H. Davenport, one of the c brothers whose performances as illusion- d ists have created for them a world-wide a reputation, died at the Oxford Hotel, p Kiug street, on Sunday morning, from 1< pulmonary consumption. The brothers tl arrived at Sidney three weeks ago from i New Zealand, where they had been giv- a ing a series of performances, but while t] there William Davenport broke a blood a vessel, and came to Sidney under the o advice of his medical attendants. He a seemed to be recovering his health after tl his arrival here, and was in excellent v, spirits, but broke a second blood vessel v again last Thursday week, and another o one yesterday morning. This last proved p fatal. He was attended here by Dr. ' Markey, who, however, with Dr. Hal- 1 kett, held out no hopes that he would /. ever recover, the disease having taken a 1 firm hold on his system. He had been n suffering from phthisis for some years. A He leaves a young widow, having been ^ married five mouths ago. His funeral o took place yesterday afternoon. Deceased si was a native of Buffalo, and was well d known here and throughout the country a as a "spiritual medium," whoso busineH8 it Avas, with his brother, to give what Spiritualists term " physical demonstrations. " ?? IV: Intelligent Eels. S The oddest pets yet are some eels that ^ a Mr. Hale is keeping iu a brook near 1 his house in Eockport, Mass. After he n' had fed them several times he observed c.' that they seemed to be waiting for his to visit, and witn a little training cney were | " induced to eat food directly from Lis | ? liand. Then they learned to play and ? fondle about his fingers, held in the b water, and enjoyed his careBses. More ? recently, the largest one of the four, a ^ huge old fellow, two feet long and very *c large around, allows Mr. Hale to take ^ him entirely out of the water, slide him ^ ibout freely from hand to hand, apparently enjoying the novel gymnastics. When Mr. Hale goes to the brook he jails them with a peculiar whistle, and a< ;hey soon come rushing briskly from tl 3own stream. Not long ago he brought them the usual lunch of fish and mackerel, when only the large one came. The eel waited a few moments,' then turned down streem and soon came back bringing his tardy family to supper. Tliis shows th<jre is n"> touch of the human in bhem, for any ordinary biped boarder would liave pitched in without waiting, ind cleared the tablo.? Springfield [Afaaa.) Union. WITH THE TURKS. Vhiu a War Correspondent Saw on TnrltlHli Trnln?The Wild /elbecka D? Mcrlbed. A -war correspondent traveling on rain in Bulgaria describes some of hi ellow-passengers in the following vig nous and graphic language: Arrived at the station, I found th farna train already in and the platforn rowded with the usual picturesque hrong of soldiers, Bashi-Bazouks an< Uircaasians, which make a Turkish rail ray station in these warlike times i tudy for a painter. The train, whicl ras of great length, and drawn by tw< lowerful engines, was crammed fron nd to end with a recrimeut of Zeibecks r Asiatic irregulars, the same gentle aen -whose very irregular conduct ai Jonstantinople and then at Varna haf esulted in their being shipped off at ir away as possible?to the banks oi be Danube, at Butschuk, where thej rill have ample chance of exercising tieir peculiar talents in the pillaging ol eserted nouses or in marauding expedi ions into Wallachia. At Sheitanjik, the next station tc humla, where a halt of half an horn nabled the passengers to get some reakfast the Zeibecks poured out oi lie carriages by hundreds, and I wat ble to study them at my ease. Great, trapping, muscular fellows they were, [othed in all the colors of the rainbow, nd with complexions varying from o ght brown, not deeper than auburn, tc coal black. It is by his head and legs tiat the Zeibeck is to be distinguished rom his Mussulman kinsmen in Europe. J though since their arrival in the counry many of them have adopted the fe2 lone as headdress, a large proportion kill retain the extraordinary coiffure in rhich they seem to delight. It is a comlicated top hamper of turbans and andkerchiefs wound.round and twisted 1 many cunning and rakish folds and iled up in a pyramid, on the apex ol hich, quite clear of the head, is placed fez, with a tassel reaching to the lioulder. One huge dandy, a man oi erculean proportions, in addition to the owing tassel of his fez, had suspended om the pyramid a fringe of gay colored ;uff, which dangled about his ears and rand his neck. It was a headdress orthy of?and indeed very suggestive f?a red Tnclian chief. As to his legs, le Zeibeck is also remarkable. He ears short, baggy breeches, ending bove the knee, which is left bare; from elow the knee to the ankle his sturdy mbs are encased in greave s of cloth, mbroidered and worked in fanciful )lors; his feet, inuocent of covering, re protected by stout slippers. In their broad sashes the Zeibecka irry a whole arsenal of weapons; words, long and short, straight and nrved, with curious guardless hilts, jmetimes beautifully inlaid or carved; aggers and knives, with sheaths of emossed silver; quaint flintlock pistols, ith handles of ivory and damascened >cks and barrels. Add to these a long un, slung at the back, and you have a ieibeck in his war paint. He has aDoul im the means of putting to death bj istinct and separate methods a dozen len; but as his range of smooth bore intlock firearms and short swords is noi 3apted to modern European warfare, he i, so they say, U be armed and drilled t Rustchuk like the rest of the army ol le Sultan, and instead of carrying the ves of many "Muscovs" in hib sash e is to carry them neatly packed awaj nder the spiral spring of a Winchestei ifle. But, whether armed with a lunderbuss or repeater, the Zeibeck is lid to be a desperate fighter, absolutely jnorant of the meaning of the word fear. The words, "Biler pipe brut," shouted x>m the engirie, probably did not coney much idea to oar Asiatic fMends, ut the explanation seems satisfactory, jr the heads went in as the train backed ipidly down the incline and again dre\t p at -Sheitaujik, where we had to wail (vo mortal hours while the damaged ipe was replaced or mended. The trair 'as emptied again and the Zeibecks scat3red over the fields around the station, r squatted patiently about the platform, .'lie European passengers by way of be uiling time began another breakfast, inch to the astonishment of theii )riental fellow travelers who gazed in 7onder tnrougn tne wmaow. xxevei pucliiug wine or strong drink, and sab isting lor days and weeks together upoi read and water, these absteminous, selfenying people might well marvel at the apacity of the Giaours. Before the amoged engine was ready for worl gain the sun had set and the hour ol 'rayer had arrived. Along the entire jngth of the platform, with one accord lie Zeibecks ranged themselves in line, "acing toward the Holy Oity (Mecca), nd devoutly putting off their shoes, tiey made their evening prayer. It wa.< most striking sight. A hundred pain f hands were raised simultaneously in doration, a hundred foreheads touchec lie ground together. Bristling witb 'enpons and gay with all the picturesque ariety of Eastern costume, the long line f pious warriors stood, knelt and wat rostrated. It was the strangest 1 church parade" I had ever seen. \a Ilah il Allah vc Mohammed reoiu l/lah?" There is no God but God, and lohammed is the right of God." Once lore we were translated into the Middle .ges. Just as a robber baron of old 'ould burn his neighbor's castle, carry ff his wife and tlien luunu a cnanirey, 3 these Mussulman freebooters of toay will pillage a bouse, " find" a purse, nd then put off their shoes and pray. Farming by Wholesale. .The Taopi farm in Mower county, [inn., is on the line of the C., M. anci t. P. R. It. It extends three miles on< -ay by two and three-fourths the other, 'he crops raised this season were : 2,25( cres of wheat, 600 acres of oats. 100 ol Drn, twenty of potatoes, and 200 oi mothy. Thirty pairs of horses anc' rnles an average of twenty-five men art mployed throughout the 6eason, anc uring harvest nearly double the num er. The farm is subdivided into tractf E two miles in length by one in width, nd at the commencement of the plowing, vnr fnrrnicn nrmirul a trftrtk. makine venty-four miles, constitutes a dny'f ork. Clear as Mud. The following is r literal copy of the Idress upon ft letter recently mailed in lis city : For mister patrick Davy Crarston rhode ilnnd . in the state of neu york teu be Handed to bridget o flaherity teu be handed for to her sister ann madigau pautneket rhodd ilaud teu remain in the post oflis till called for monday week. ?Boston Traveller. A CURIOUS INDUSTRY n A Worm Farm at Nottingham, England? i. How Worm* arc Collected and Ualncd for the market. a When at Nottingham a few days ago, s I -was much pleased at the discovery of - an entirely new industry, namely, the roaring and education of worms for the e purposes of anglers. Mr. Wells, fishinga tackle maker, of Sussex street, Nottinge ham, carries on a business and trade iu 1 worms. He has several people in his - employ who collect worms every f^vora3, ble night during the year. He sells the 1 following kinds of worms, namely, the ) lob or dew worm, th" cockspur and the j ring-tailed brandling. Iu dry weather , worms are scarce; the men have to water - the ground for them. In wet weather t the worms are better and heavier. They } are caught in the meadows and pasture 3 lands in the neighborhood; the supply E is not failing. 7 The worms are sold by the thousand f or the quart. In a warm, moist night E from two to six thousand worms are . brought in by the collectors. Some people can collect worms much better than > others. The worms are very cunning, r and are apt to pop back into their holes s if the person treads heavily. E When the worms are brought in, Mr. i Wells at once beginB his training opera, tions by placing them in properly se, lected moss. Stag's horn moss will not , do at all, it is too harsh. Grass is bad. k Field moss is the best. The worms are > put into the moss to scour. A fresh! caught worm is very delicate and tender, i and easily breaks up when put on the hook. When a worm is properly edu cated he is as tough as a bit of india ; rubber, and behaves as a worm shoul when put on a hook. The way to test l a worm is to take him up and pass the finger gently down the length of him. If I anything comes out of him he is not fit, [ and is put back for further training. [ The meaning of this is that the wild ! worms contain, more or less, food under [ going digestion. When pat into the ! moss this food disappears. The moss : in some way facilitates this operation, bnt I cannot qnite see how this is, uni less the worms disgorge all their former . food, and practically become very little else than skin. i The keeping of worms depends very i much upon the weather. They will not keep well above a week, Mr. Wells has i a supply of worms ready for his custom; ers all the year round. He goes over his moss very frequently, picking out the mauled and mashed worms, and only sending to market the plump and healthy . ones, which are packed up for market in moss; the bags used are of light canvas. Not only does Mr. Wells collect worms, but he also breeds them in considerable ; quantities. In his garden is a special 1 heap made of vegetable matter, expressly for the purpose of breeding worms. I ; shall not, of course, say what substance for worm-breeding is most favorable; this is a professional secret. On. turn[ ing the heap over where the worms aro : bred, it was very interesting to see the , worms in various Btages of growth. Mr. ; Wells knows from experience pretty well ' what the age of a worm is. I had the i pleasure of pointing out to him the eggs i of the worm. These are about three ; lines long, and somewhat oval. They i had a sort of lid at each end, which [ opens when the young are liberated. I ; believe that two young are sometimes ? produced from the same egg. i The business of worm selling has been - going on some ten years and is gradu ally increasing. ?Frank Buchland, in k Land and Water. i 1 The Writer's Cramp. [ A paper read by M, Bouilland before a recent meeting of the French Academy >f Sciences gives an account of hie further researches relative to lesions of the [ brain. In his former communications r he demonstrated that the loss of speech i was due to a malady of the third circum[ volution of the left anterior lobe of that t organ. He now goes farther, and asserts the three fecultias which essentially distinguish man from other animals ?speech, reading and writing?are each controlled by separate portions of the brain. In his researches he discovered that the paralysis of one of those functions could exist without the others being effected, and ho gives as an example ? a case in which he was called to a con, saltation on a young man, whose avocations compelled him to write continually. 5 At first the patient had felt a siignt j weakness in writing, then a great diffi. culty, and finally, an absolute loss of I the faculty. The result of the closest ; examination could not detect any defect in the muscles of the arm or hand, the ' latter retaining all its sensitiveness and power for every other purpose than that of writing, and all his other functions . j being moral and in good condition. Tho } conclusion arrived at wa6 that the source of tho infirmity must not be sought for I in the external organs, but in the center L itself of nervous action?the brain. The Jroung man was advised to write with lis left hand, which ho rapidly suceeed| ed in doing. The defect from which he , j suffered had long been known as writers' cramp, just as the loss of speech was for j centuries termed paralysis of the i tongue. Both designations were equal( ly erroneous, both being now attributed , to maladies of certain portions of the I brain. He Sat on a Lion's Tail. During a recent visit to the Philadelphia Zoological Garden we. witnessed an amusing incident illustrative of Young America's love for adventure says a correspondent. In the rear of the lion and tiger house large cages are eon, structed, where the animals come out at 1 pleasure to sun themselves. On this oc5 casion, as we stood admiring two fine "? * i AU I specimens stretcneu ai nui itsuym un ) the sandy floor, one so near the bars t that its tail extended through, and lay F on the grass outside, a boy approached, 1 in advance of his mother and sister, ' and, no sooner did ho see the lion than I an idea seemed to strike him, for with one bonnd. and before his mother could s Btop him, he was over the low rails, and , quickly approaching the lion, f=at down , on its tail. But he had not long to sit, j for in a twinkling tho lion sprung to its i feet and made for tho boy, who bnrely ! escaped a stroke of the powerful paw, ! by turning a back sumersault. Tho mother stood speechless, as the boy ran , | shouting, "Well, I don't care. I'll ! I have it to say I sat on a lion's tail." Three and a half pounds of milk nre equal to one poiuid of meat; and only ' estimate a cow to give 4,000 pounds of ; milk in a year, this would miike tho ] cow's product in milk equal in food 1 ? " "fin ' YftlllG lO JHHUJUB ui unjiw, iuiu mm 11,000 pounds of miat would require a Bte^r, under ordinary* feeding, four years to produce, so that the cow produces as much return from her food in one rear a* a bteer in four. ; > V *