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ABBEVILLE PRE^&"RANWM^ BY HUGH WILSON AND W. C. BENET. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1878. NO. 25. VOLUME ? r~ The Young Tramp. ; i Hello, th&r, Btranger! VThar you from ? J, Oome in and make yerself ter ham ! v We're common folks, ain't much on style ; T Come in and Btop a little while ; 'Twott't do no harm ter rest yer some. ; v Youngster, yer pale, anil don't look well V y What, way frum BoBting ? Naow, de^r tell! r Why, that's a hundred mile or so ; j _ What started yer I'd like ter know j ^ On sich a tramp ; got goods ter sell V ^ No home, no friends'! Naow that's too bad ! j Wall, cheer up boy and don t be sad? ! . Wife see what yer can find to eat, i ^ And put the cofTee on ter heat? i ^ Well fix yer up all right, my lad. y Willing ter work, can't get a job, s< And not a penny in yer fob ? I Wall, naow, that's rough, I dew declare? j \ What, tears ? Come vouDgster, I can't bear | a Ter see yer take on so, and Bob. I ^ 1 , now came yer bo nau uu, my tuu ( u Father was killed ? 'tSho' ; wbar ? Bull Run V ! p Why, I was in that scrimmage, lad, ' S And got used np, too, pretty bad ; " I sha'n't forgit old 'sixty-one. . 8 So yer were left in BoBting, bey ? u A baby when he went away? Those Boeting boys were plucky, wife, 1 ? Yer know one of 'em taved my life > " Else I would not be here to-day. j ? Twas when the " Black Horee Cavalcade" i Q Swept down on our 6mall biigade, I got the shot that made me lame, When down on me a trooper came, ; j] And thin 'ere chap strucn np his blade. j J Poor feller He was stricken dead; ffhe trooper'B saber cleaved his head. j Joe Billings was ray comrade's name. He was a Bosttog boy, and game! I 61 I almost wished I'd died, instead. tj Why, lad ! what makes yer tremble xor Tour father! what, my comrade, Joe ? j _ And you his son? Ceme ter my heart! ^ My hom? is yours ; I'll try, in part, : ? To pay hrs boy the debt I owe. ? C. F. A'iavis, tn Detroit Free l're*s. J ^ ===?= === |C A DARK GAME LUST, j" 1*1 t< The three magistrates had sut uuin- e; terruptedly far into the autumn after- \ noon, and had now retired to consider h their decision. It was a distressing case, 1 and occurring in Singlebridge, which is E a mere handful of a town, provoked in- y tense interest among the inhabitants. ] Silas Westbrook, the reluctant prosecutor, was senior partner in an impressive- cl ly solid firm which bad flourished in the b borough for generations. His son An- h gustus (also of the firm), a witness for the "V prosecution, was held in muoh esteem d by certain of the younger sort in Single- A bridge, who sympathized with his amia- I ble wildness." About Mr. Blanchard, d< another witness for the prosecution, ir little was known to the inquiring gossips. He had been a resident with the p Westbrooks for about eight months, w during which period he had sat along- re side Gus in the office in business hours, j cl and had been a good deal about him at i p; other times. They got on amazingly well together, people observed, but ir despite all his effort??and t>onie of these were marked enough?6iiave Mr. Blan- h: chard failed to similarly captivate Gus' s< pretty sister Fanny. As became her a1 father's daughter, she treated the West It Indian connection of her father's firm t< with unerring graciousness. But her T sweetest moods, her tenderest looks and ol gentleht tones were not for him. The it magician, at whose bidding they so gladly came, was Blanchard's instinc- is five foe. From the moment Harold b White, a confidential clerk to the firm, tt and a potential partner therein, met and h; simply shook hands with the West In- c< ^iort f V* ar Vtnfa/1 Aflinv ntUlt r> rv uuui) vuwjr umwvi v/mvu v/vuci n i iu a v? hatred that owed its sustenance on the si one side to contempt, and on the ether S to malice and all uncharitableness. To- (3 day will behold the triumph or discomfi- ^ ture of Blanchard. In the police court of Singlebridge, in the presence of a crowd C of people, the majority of whom are si personally known to him, Ilarold White stands accused on the united testimony of t the Westbrooks, father and sob, of embezzlement. ft] To the profound chagrin of the magis- ri trates' clerk, who, cordially disliking Blanchard, wishes well to the accused, j P the latter conducts his own defense. j b: " Silence in the court." t >} . The silence is oppressive when, in a it voice full of feeling, the chairman turns di to the accused and says: M Harold White, I, who have known b you for so t my years, need not say that u the long examination, which my brother magistrates and myself have this day w conducted to the very best of our ability, .has been to all of us fraught with con- et siderable pain. And we are bound to la admit, in your behalf, that nothing has | m transpired in the course of this hearing ! ai which reflects in the leant on your con- " duct during tae period to which I refer, pi We have given duo consideration to this S fact in your favor, and have come to the y< conclusion, actuated by motives which A we earnestly hope you will live to ap- y< preciate in a proper spirit, to dismiss si the case. You may go."' t> " But my character," exclaimed White, in a voice husky with emotion, " who is st to clear that of taint ?" ? ! r? "Yourself," solemnly answered the | chairman. " Call the next case." ib Dazed, trembling under the influence I b ?f warring passions, he left the dock and j ai passed out of the court into the Bunlit ai street. Whither should he direct his feet ? d The September sun was setting redlv o: behind a familiar belt of woods which c fringed the further bank of the river as , b he continued his moody walk. He had t! held on for miles, heedless of the direo s tion he took, and now he awoke from his fit of passionate bitterness to find him- v self on a spot that had often been hal- n lowed by the presenoe of the girl he loved. What did she think of him ? ^ " Harry 1" g ' Fanny 1" e in those two words all was expressed, h "Oh Harold, I have followed you for hours, fearing to speak, you look so pale n and cnanged 1" b " I am changed. Thev have not sent o me to prison. Fan, but the prison taint b on me. Why don't you shrink from b e moral leper, as the ivist of them have ti one?" a 'Because "?and it seemed to him as v though her voice had never thrilled with p such sweetness before?"I know you/' ti "And you believe"? b " That all will be righted jet. I can 1; wait, dear?if you will let me. You were never more precious to me than you are d at this moment." ii "MissWestbrook! Come,Fanny,this s is no place for you." 5 Harold and she bad not heard the li footsteps. It was Blanchard and her brotherwii > approached unnotioed. " "And iso place for you*either," said s; White to lilanchard. b "Faugh," replied that worthy. "I t have no words to waste on such -as you, a sir. I am here to perform a duty." " Scoundrel!" Harold began, at the L game time raisin cr his hand. She touch- s ed him, and he was still. o "Sir,"she said, "I am mistress of 1 my own actions. If I choose to accom- 1 pany my brother it is because I choose I i Harold, good-bye I Gome what may? * my faith will not Walter, my love never etacge." 1.1 The last fonr -words were murmured, is she shaped them she reached forward nd kissed him before her brother, rhose surprise at her defiant attitude rns unspeakable. They parted end went their several cays. 'I'lirro nmniliR lifld filftnsod. find not 8 rord had been heard of or from Harold Vliite; unless, the female gossips sugested, he had written to Mi6S Westrook, which, considering his departure, e was hardly likely to have done. Tt puzzled well-informed Singleridge to hear Fanny Westbrook's cheerixl words, to note her placid brow and right manner. She never could have bought much of that Harold White, on know, or she would have manifested ome regret at his misfortunes, lilanchard, too, was mystified by her. That did it portend ? Had she resigned 11 hopes of being restored to the lover hom he had eo effectnally helped to isgrace and banish ? Was the course [ear at last ? He would see. His imetuous love for the sunny-haired, axon-eyed girl, a love which sprang lto existence the moment they met, had rown mightily since the "going of Write. He would put an end to this ncertainty. He could face his fate. "An interview with me?" replied 'anny to his blandly proffered request; 'certainly, Mr. Bluncharj." Her tone as provokingly even. " And if you please, let it take place ow. Pray be seated." If she only had been embarrassed. "Miss Westbrook, I?I?fear that the agression which I made upon you the ay of that unfortunate rencontre by the iver side was not favorable. I "Pray proceed, sir," ehe remarked in jy tones. " Well, then?allow me?you cannot rarely have remained firm in the resoln!on you then expressed?to cleave to " "Mr. Blanchard, I will assist you. 'ou apparently wish to say that I must ave ceased to love Harold White ? Is lat so?" " Miss Westbrook ? Fanny ? pardon le ; I do. He is all unworthy of you. >h, if you did but know the depth of my )ve for you "? "Stop, Mr. Blanchard," said she, risig from her chair, and moving slowly jward the door. " Let us understand acli other. Whether or not Harold Fhite holds the place in my heart which e once did concerns me and me only, 'he honor ?ou have done me, Mr. .lanchard?call it by what tender name on please?I despise. Mr. Blanchard, [ know you J" "Stop, Miss Westbrook!" he exlaimed, making one step forward and arring her way to the door, "and arken to me. You have thrown the gage, 'ery well, I accept it. It was I who rove Harold White from Singlebridge. h, you can be impressed, I see. It is who can compel you to consent to my emands. Now, Miss Westbrook, know le I" Her face was very white as she swept roudly past the West Indian, but it as not the whiteness of fear. They teasured swords with their eyes?how ear and searching hers were!?and arted. Next day Fanny Westbrook was miss* ig from Singlebridge. For twelve months Silas Westbrook as been daughterless. Fanny -was night for, far and near, but without rail. However, we must for the present ave Singlebridge, and make our way > the Theater Royal, Easthampton. he house is crowded by the admirers [ the leading lady, whose benefit night is. Old Fussyton, the stage door-keeper, at this moment in a 6tate of mind Jaama?? U /> <7 n V /\ f AW urueriLig uu ucDfiu. u.c uwo uuv iw ie life of him leave bis post, and he as jnst learned that a stranger has sncjeded in reaching the stage under the >ver of an andacions super. If that lould come to the knowledge of Mr. omerset Beanchamp, the manager, he ?ussyton) will to a certainty be dislissed on the spot. " Take a note to Miss Harebell, sir I ould not do it. It's against orders, r." The speaker is a call-boy. The impter is Mr. Blanehard. " Very well, 6ir, I'll risk it. If yon re an old friend, I suppose it will be all ght." Indnoed to commit a breach of disciline by the bestowal of a rather potent ribe, the call-boy disappeared behind pile of scenery, and is presently heard i altercatien with Miss Harebell's resser. " What do you want?" Miss Hareb11 is not ' a beginner,' she is not on ntil the second scene." "I know that, Mrs. Cummiugs. I ant to speak to you. Open the door." Blanchard heard no more. A whisper 1 conversation between the leading ,dy's dresser and the call-boy was imlediately succeeded by the reappear2ce of that precious youth, who said : Miss Harebell will meet you after the erformance, at her hotel, the George, he has private apartments there. All L>n have to do is to send in your name, ud now, sir, do clear out of this. How 3u got in I don't know. If Mr. Bowlangwasto stag you, wouldn't there b a shine neither." Meantime his note had produced a artling effect upon Miss Harebell. It in thus : "At last I tind yon. lu Miss Hareell I have recognized Fanny Westrook. At the peril of those nearest ad dearest to you see me to-night. I m desperate." "Cumminge," gasped she, " lock that oor. You did it for the best to get rid f him. It is always convenient to deline receiving a visitor at one's hotel; at I will see him. Finish my hair and aen find Mr. Beauchamp. I wonld peak with him before I go on." Blanchard had again curiously underalued the strength of his lovely oppoent, * She saw the manager and exchanged rith him a few whispered words. He rasped her hand warmly by way of mphasizing his chivalric intentions in er cause. Since that day, more than twelve lonths previously, that Mies Westrook had merged her identity in that f the now talented actress, Miss Hareell, Fanny had played many parts, oth on and off the stage. On this paricular night she excelled herself. The pplause of her crowd of admirers was rhat would have been termed in stage iarlance " terrific." Such was the elecric force of her acting that it carried all efore it. Was she playing up defianty to Blanchard ? Perhaps. nr. onnnlnainn nf fchfi r>lav she. la en with bouquets, retired to her dressag-room, and in a few minutes had reamed, with the aid of the attentive Irs. Cnmmings, the attire of ordinary le. In the space of a few minutes Miss 1 Harebell" was proceeding unnoticed, dve by a group of her youthful idolaars who surrounded the pit door, under he convoy of Mr. Beauchamp, to her partments at the George. Before ascending the staircase which sd to her rooms,she informed the maiderrant that probably a gentleman would all upon her. If he did she was to show dm up, after having privately informed dr. Beauchamp, who would wait for the tewa in the parlor, of her visitor's arivaL Mr. Beauchamp, whose face beamed nth oomplacent delight, nodded hit approval of this arrangement. Observed i Fanny to him : "Now, Mr. Beauchamp, I shall leave i yon to your devices (here she indulged t in the tiniest ripple of laughter)?your 1 devices, mind." 1 "Very well, my dear, they s'lall be , ready, if wanted." "And he" j " Everything, is ready, Miss Harebell, i and everybody. Let that suffice vou." t Seated in her snug little room, Fanny 1 dreamily awaited the coming of her ^ ancient persecutor. She had not to wait long. " Mr. Blanohard, 'm," announced the i I ? i l ?i ii. ? ..i I; maiu-bt>ivttui, uuu mcionpuu unucicu * that gentleman in. t Miss Westbrook rose and acknowl- i edged bis elaborate bow with a silence a that was full of scornful eloquence. ? She then resumed her seat. 1: "Miss Westbrook, can you divine i why I am here ?" "Yes." " Oh, yon can ? You are frank. After 1 all, why should you not be ? We can 1 spare each other the recital of a long s preface of dull retrospection. After a I j loug and painful search I have found s iyou?no matter how." \ j "I know how," she calmly interposed, r " Ah 1" he exclaimed, " perhaps vou c would not mind enlightening me." His t tones were sneering. Her perfect equanimity put him about. " Not at all. You got the informa- 5 tion from my brother." e "Even so. And?your brother ? Had c he informed you also that he is just as If completely in my power as was another ? person of our acquaintance more than a \ year since ? Did he tell you there is a li bundle of papers which would give n him penal servitude if I chose to put r the l.iw in operation ? Did he"? f "No, Mr. Blanchard. he did not." i A tear had stolen down her cheek at the : suggestion to Harold, but now that j i she confronted the WeBt Indian her u ; eyes blazed defiance upon him. "He* f' | did not. Remove your mask. I oan C 1 read the rascal underneath it. So, then, I i my hand bestowed on you is to be the I ! price of your silence concerning my t ! brother's crime, if crime it be. But p j you hare shown your claws too soon, p | 'sir; see that they are not clipped." c u And who is to clip them ?" j "I!" exclaimed a voice that came i from behind the chair near which li Blanchard stood, while at the same time o his arms were seized in a grip of iron and j wrenched violently back. "I?Harold 3 White! Fan, take possession of those y papers." 4 " So you think to trap me, do you?" i: i growled Blanchard, actually foaming a with rage ; " but you nre mistaken." c "Not a bit of it," observed obliging 4 Mr. Beauchamp, at that moment enter- fi ing by the door on the lauding. Coolly C turning the key and placing it in his p pocket, the manager of the Easthampton q theater continued : " Now look here, t Mr. Blanchard, I have stage-managed s too many little thing of this kind not to fl know what's required to strengthen the situation. I have two of my fellows handy on the stairs. My property man H is on the other side of those folding ji j doors. My friend here and myself j\ ! reckon for something, to say nothing of \ Mrs TTarnld White "? 0 "Mrs. Harold White?" gasped J\ Blanchard. d "Yes, Mr. Blanchard," releasing him g and approaching her, " my wife. She d ! always believed in my perfect innocence d j of the charge you helped to fasten on ii 1 me, and when poor, miserable Gas con- tl ; feesed the part which he had played in fi i the conspiracy, we got married." a j "Confessecl?conspiracy!" sneering- n J ly exclaimed Blanchard ; "where are A j j our proofs?" h " Here !" replied Harold, pointing to I j the papers ; " and here they remain a i until"? n "Until what?" tl " Until the father of my dear wife has j peruBed them line by line, and the mag| istrates of Singlebridge have made my i i innocence as public as a year since they I proclaimed my guilt." " i "Then I may go," said Blanchard, n I after a pause; and taking for granted ^ ! the consent of the temporary custodians, J1 | he stepped toward the door, which was I nnder the janitorship of Mr. Beauchamp. ? ! That gentleman gracefully waved liim ^ ! back. j? "You may goon one condition, sir? j1 ! pardon me?and it is this : That you ^ I leave for Jamaica by a certain 6teamer J1 i which leaves this port to-morrow. I have . ' j to-night bespoken your berth. Pardon | 8 1 me?if you decline, take the conse- c ; quences ; one of which will be the tem- F j porary occupatian by yourself of a neat 8 ! and commodious apartment within the ! c j precincts of Eaathampton jail 1" ! F " Open the door." Not another word j fl ! did he utter, but taking his hat, and i F I looking straight before him, he left the ' v j hotel and proceeded?not unattended? | E j in the direction of the Jamaica boat. 1 i Tf woo o nlfloaonf lmnr nr* flA wliiftli I 1] i Mr. and Mrs. Harold White and their j a friend Beanchamp spent together that ! c I uight. It was a more than pleasant | e meeting that took place a few days after e J in Singlebridge. Silas Westbrook's r hippiness was unspeakable. There was 8 u streak of sorrow in it, though, when T ^he thought of his absent son, and prayed 8 . chat the lad had tnmed over a new leaf 8 rj at the other end of the world.?London * | Society. - ' ? "Turn or Life." a Bet ween the ages of forty au<l sixty- i ? a man who has properly regulated him, i ?' j Belf may be considered in the prime of j i life. His matured strength or consti- a tution renders him almost impervious 8 to the attacks of disease, and experience ^ has given soundness to his judgment. ? His mind is resolute, firm and ecjual; 11 all his functions in the highest order ; ?, he assumes mastery over business: , | L/UliUO U j ' 'I Vl/Uip^l^>UUW VU tu\J A\?uuu?- | J tion he bus formed in early manhood, and passeH through a period of life attended by many gratifications. Having gone a year or two past sixty, he arrives at a standstill. But athwart this (' is a viaduct called the " Turn of Life," k which, if crossed in safety, leads to s the valley of "old age," round which t! the river winds, and then beyond, with- c I out a boat or causeway to effect its pas- n I sage. The bridge is, however, con fc | structed of fragile materials, and it r J depends upon how it is trodden, wheth- v i er it bend or 1 reak. Gout, apoplexy, a j are also in thu vicinity to waylay the li I traveler, and thrust him from the pass; 1 \ but let him gird up his loins and pro- fl vide himself with a fitter staff, and he o may trudge in safety, with perfect com- n posure. To quit metaphor, " The Turn n of Life" is a turn either into a pro- b longed walk, or into the grave. The f system and powers having reached their p j utmost expansion, now begin to either f close like flowers . at sunset or break g i down at once. One injudicious stimu- d lnnt, a single fatal excitement,may force ' c it beyond its strength, whilst a careful t 6upply of props, and the withdrawal of ( all that tends to force a plant, will sus- h tain it in beauty and vigor until night 1 has entirely set in. c ?? g A young bride, momentarily expecting c the return of her husband, was handed e a telegraphio dispatch, which so excited \ her that, without having strength to t ; break the envelop, she fainted away, e i Upon recovering she found her huBband I seated beside her. " Oh, Aliok 1" were 1 her first words, "I thought you had c i fallen down and cut your throat with one. 3 > ot those horrid standing oollara," . y TIMELY TOPICS. Raitaa and Burraburra, two islands of j lie Society group, have completely j Hirst up, and a large number of people mve been drowned. I In a gambling room in Nevada the j anitor, on opening the place in the < norning, found a man sitting dead at a I able, with cards still in his hands He j lad been shot at poker, by his adversary, J vho had fled. A. T. Stewart once said : [' He who nvests one dollar in business should nvest one dollar in advertising that jusiness." How many men are there ! n tins city who oegan ten years ago in , i small shop on $1,000 of capital and | vho are no better off to-day, and who j lave never spent $5 in advertising. ? | Yew York Mercantile Journal. The prevailing hats and bonnets in j Paris are quite a study for an entomo- j ogist. Swarms of bees and other in- j ects are settling on some of the hats. ] Lrrows and lizards are giving way to j mall ornaments of holly leaves, with learlsfor berries. Owls' heads of vaious sizes, some very large, and gilded aterpillars, are largely used to confine lows on hats ai:;l bonnets. A female elephant in the Philadelphia ioological garden was greatly frightned by the recent gale, and when she ut one of her feet on the glass of a bro:en window her terror was complete. Ihe sai on her haunches, held up her rounded foot, and bellowed loud and ong. When the keeper entered, her aale companion had his trunk wound ' ound the foot, as though trying to comort her. A prize of $500 for an essay on hydro- , ihopia, its nature, prevention and treat- J lent, having been offered by Mr. Stan- | ord, M. P., to be awarded by the Royal j College of Physioians of London, the j larquis of Salisbury has instructed the ! Jritish minister at Washington to bring he matter to the attention of the detriment of State, that the necessary mblicity may be given to it in this ountry. A Oincinnati firm has issued a circu- I ar relative to the peanut crop, which is j f interest. The Tennessee crop for the j rear ending September 30, 1878, was 105,000 bushels, against 500,000 for the 'ear previous ; in Virginia the crop was 05,000, againBt 780,000 last year, and a North Carolina it was only 85,000, gainst 125,000 in 1877. The growing rop?i. e., for 1878-79?is estimated at i 00,000 bushels for Tennessee, 800,000 or Virginia, and 90,000 for . North Carolina. The North Carolina crop romises to be about the same as to juality as last year. A new feature with his crop is the largely increased amount helled, one estimate being that oneifth of the crop was taken in this way. Absolutely latest: The black ponv of Ir. T. H. Shipp, of Midway, Ky ., lias list died at the age of thirty three. Irs. Richnrd Evaus. of Tangier island, ra., has had the same tom-cat for forty- ! ne years, and it is still alive and lively. ; Ir. Lake, of J3an Jose, Cal., and his og recently undertook to catch a burlar at night. They set ont in different irections and met in a hall-way. The og sprang from under a table, intendjg to seize Mr. Lake, who, believing liat he was attacked by a robber, hastily red several shots. A light was brought, nd the wounded dog, recognizing his laster, crawled to liis feet and died. Ln eighteen-year-old father and sevrnsen-year-old* mother in Grove county, [y., are the parents of twins, a boy and girl. Mercer county, Ky., fills the lighty trump of sounding fame with a i tiirteen -pound sweet potato. The Clean Newspaper. There is a growing feeling in every I ealthy community against the jourals which make it their special object I o minister to perverted taste by seek- j og out and serving up in a seductive | Drm disgusting scandals and licentious j evelations. There is good reason to I elieve that' the clean newspaper is ; aore highly prized to-day than it was j our or five years ago. It is also safe I o predict that as people in all ranks of j ife, who protect their own at least [ rom contamination, becoma more con- j cious of the pernici- us influence of a ; ertain class of journals, called enter- j rising because they fire ambitions to i erve up dirty Bcauuals, they will be i areful to see that tne journals they I ermit to be read in the family circle i re of the class that never forget the i roprieties of life. Already men and j romen of refinement and healthy j a orals have had their attention called o the pernicious influence of bad j iterature, and have made oommendble efforts to counteract the same by ! ausing sound literatnre to be publish- I d and sold at popular prices. These I fforts are working a silent but sure evolution. The best authors are more ;enerally read to day than at any pre- j ious time. The sickly sentimental : tory paper and wild ranger and pirate j tory book are slowly yielding the field i d worthier claimants. To the praise | f the decent newspaper, it may be said j hat where it has a place in the family i nd has been read for years by young j nd old, it has developed such a healthy j one and Buch a discriminating taste ; hat the literature of the slums has no i dmirers. Fortunately, the number of; uch families is increasing in the land, ; nd as tbey increase, the journal that j evotes itself to sickening revelations of mmorality will be compelled to find its i npporters solely among those classes j hat practice vice or crime or are am- i itious to learn to follow such ways.? j loslon Herald. The Wonderful Petroleum. Twenty years ago, says a Dayton Ohio) paper, petroleum was little nown. The first artificial well was unk in August, 1859, we believe. Now bere is an annual production in this ountry of about 15,000,000 barrels, and lore than ?60,000,000 worth is exported o other countries annually, our exports anging in importance, according to aluation, first, cotton; seoond, flour nd grain ; third, hog products (lard, 1am and salt pork); fourth, petroleum. Fhere are more than 10,000 oil wells [owing or being Bunk, and probably ver $100,000,000 invested in the busiless, in one way and another. Fifteen aillion barrels (forty gallons to the airel) of this narth-yielded oil would ! ill 9,600,000,000 lamps holding half a >int each, or about seven snch lamps or every man, woman and child on onr ;lobe. If these lamps were equally iistributed, bo that every four persons ould have one, and allow half a pint to >urn three evenings on an average short nights included), the 15,000,000 >arrels of oil would light up the whole inman race for a period of three months, >r a fourth of the population of the [lobe for a whole year. All this has ome to light from the bowels of the larth in lesB than twenty years, during phich time we have not only used all he petroleum we have wanted ourlelves, but have sent to other ands nearly $500,000,000 worth at the ow custom-house .valuation. What ?ther stores of light and of oomfort lie ret undiscovered in this wonderful rorld of our# ? Interesting Facts Abont India. The natives of India are usually brown, but some of them are nearly black. Their hair is usually straight? sometimes gracefully curled, seldom of a woolly appearance. The native women of Calcutta wear their hair long, and either loose or braided. The men generally part theirs in the middle. Shaving tha head is common, especially among what appear to be of the lower classes. Some shave off every hair ; others leave enough for a topknot only ; others make themselves comical-looking by shaving patches here and there, according to their fancy. Their barbers are generally Incited at irrecmlar intervals alone the principal streets and lanes. A barber spreads his bamboo mat on the pavement, near the wall, for him and his subject to squat on during the work ; and while he uses the tools, the man having his hair or beard dressed holds a small mirror in his hand and watches closely every movement of the razor or shears. The mirror is seldom more than six inches in length. The barber is very deliberate, and may spend half an hour on one head or face for a cent and a half. Besides these street barbers, there are those who have shops for Europeans and Baboos, and charge twelve cents for cutting a European's hair. There are also, along the streets, native oobblers, with their little kits of tools, repairing shoes. Oil is much used?not only on the head, but also the whole body is well anointed. The Indians of this country, like their American cousins, are very straight and erect. Bound or stooped shoulders are so rare among them that they attract attention at once, if the possessor is on his feet. These people carry nearly all ? * - H L ? 3 J"! iLf_ J ^ tneir ouraens on me aeaa, uuu iuih uevelops a straight form. If one wants a pianoforte, a bedstead, a tea-set, or any article transported with perfect safety to another part of the city, he calls enough coolies for the job, and commits the articles to them, pending a servant along to oversee them. Small articles are put into a large basket, which the coolieB always have. The basket is made of bamboo pieces tied together, is lined with the coarsest sackcloth, semisphericin shape, and withont any handle. A coolie can carry a weight on his head i two or three times as great as he can lift. When on the street awaiting orders, he frequently gets into his basket and goes to sleep, or inverts it and makes a stool out of it. Passing along the street at night, one sees many servants and coolies, especially the latter, sleeping on the asbestos, stone, or McAdam pavement, with no bed between except a Bingle cotton blanket worn on the body during the day. Many Baboos and men of other classes of the natives of Bengal never wear any covering on their heads except that given by nature. Some of the Baboos are as noble-looking specimens of humanity as I ever saw, 1 i tiliu Iiuve ua gxjsju uituxi aa via >tu. The bead-coverings worn are usually either a little hemisphere, often beautifully embroidered, or a large turban consisting of many yards of cotton cloth wound around the top of the head. The latter is good protection; Ihe former seems to be worn only for ornament. j Mysteries of a Dead Letter Office. j Mr. Charles Hughes lectured in I Washington recently on the " Mysteries j of the Dead Letter Office." Mr. Hughes J was for some time a clerk in the dead | letter office, and relates some interest- j ing experiences connected with the de livery of dead letters. About 10,000 are opened daily and the money contained in these amounts to about $81,600 a i month. An interesting case was where a gentleman traveling on business sent a letter containing 31,500 to hia wife at home. By some unaccountable neglect he sealed the envelope and deposited it in the mail without any address what- i ever. After tho letter was opened at i the dead letter office we found that he I had written but a few lines, announcing | his determination to go further south, not mentioning any probable destination, and signing the name "George." There was no clue to trace tho wife and but a slight one to find the writer. After a long search " George " was discovered ! on the hotel register, the onlv person out! of thirty-two of the name name who had ' merely signed his name without saying 1 where he was from, or whither going. Another case somewhat similar, was the following : A letter was written, dated Astor house, New York, signed " Ohann- 1 cey," inclosing 82,000 to a lady as a remuneration for the care with which she : had treated his parents. The letter j stated he was going to Earope. The ? letter was misdirected, and was opened j at the dead letter office. The postmaster of New York was instructed to make 1 inquiries at the Astor house for Chaun- j cey, who,after some trouble, was found, and the money returned to him the very afternoon he ieft for Earope. The following are some of the singular super- 1 scriptiona on dead letters: "Please hand to my mother, and oblige Mary : "Sal, if you want to hear from your bo, you had better come and get this let " it Tn tlk-ia Inffflv f! ?arn ia frtt* UOl | XU I/UIO 1UVVUX VUV4V 1U AVI Bob, and I send it this way so that the postmaster won't steal it postmasters, please deliver this to the young lady living in the first house beyond the" wallet factory, that wears a black dress and sack, white straw hat, and brown face-trimmings ; now don't mako a mistake." Several letters are received addressed to the evil one, Santa Claus, and other like personages. Often these letters, with their foolish superscriptions, contain money. Serpent Worship in South Africa. Most, if not all, native tribes in South Africa are snake or spirit worshipers. With the Zulus it is a specialty. If certain kinds of snakes are found in a kraal, a Zulu would no more dare to kill them than he would to take his own life. The poor native is often horrorstruck by witnessing the unceremonious destruction of somebody's grandfather by the fearless whi te man. Zulus go so far as to Bay that they have seen a serpent with one eye, and that it must be the embodiment of the spirit of an old man who died in Zulu-land long ago, who had been deprived of one of these members. When argued with on the impossibility of the spirit serpent crossing the numerous rivers between Zululand aud the place where it was seen (it not being a water snake), they reply, "It surely crossed some how." According to Zulu theologv, good and evil are attributable to the benevolent or malevolent agency of the ancestral spirits. If prosperous in any undertaking, lucky in hunting, harvesting a good nfnn nr rnf.nrnp/I Rllffilv frnm a lonC journey, a thank-offering is paid to the friendly spirits. If unfortunate, seriously ill or bereaved, a propitiatory, sacrifice is offered. A fat cow or sheep is slaughtered and a portion of beef or mutton laid aside for the offended spirit, which is taken (the Zulus say) at midnight. A poet in Oood Words says : " Let us slumber on forever and forever." That is all easy enough to say, but when an alarm clock is pounding itself to pieces just over your head, and the milkman is singing a peal that would waken the dead, any kind of slumber seems to be i about nine miles the other side of eter- < nity. We would therefore move to amend the bill by substituting for the words "forever and forever," the clause, i "as long as we can without missing : breakfast and the nine o'clock car."? i Burlington Haw key e. - NEARLY BURIED aLIYE. Three Nnrrow Escapes From an Eternal Prison. The lectures which have recently been delivered on "living burials " by a physician of some eminence, go to prove that such things happen in countries where rapid interment succeeds death, much more frequently than the generality of people would deem possible. We who hold our dead so sacred, and who err if anything on the side of keepfnn Inner nnV?nn'o^ mnfif, nftfnr ally feel n, kind of horror creep over us when, from circumstances, we are brought to witness with what haste and want of reverence the last sad ceremonies are gone through in some countries where climate renders speedy interment after decease an absolute necessity. I propose to relate three marvelous escapes from living burial which happened to different members of the same family at different periods. The scene was in Italy; the facts wore related by the daughter of two of the parties concerned. " You will scarcely wonder," she paid, " at my horror of being buried alive, when I tell you that a peculiar fate seemed to pui-sue our family, or at least did pursue it in tUe last generation. My father was an only son, and from having been born several years after his parents' marriage, was an object of especial devotion. His mother wss unable to nurse him herself, and a country woman was procured from a village at some distance from the chateau where his parents resided, who was not only well calculated to replace the mother as a nurse, but was of so affectionate a disposition that she seemed to throw her whole soul into her care for the well-being of the child, and lavished as much affection on him as did the real mother. When the age came for weaning him, it was found impossible to accomplish it while the nurse remained with him; and so after many terrible scenes, and the most heartbreaking sorrow on her part, she had to go. The boy throve very well until he was about three years old, when he was attacked by some childish malady, and to all appearances died. "It is unnecessary to dwell on the distracted grief of the parents. The mother conld scarcely be induced to leave the body, and even though all life was extinct, grudged every moment as it flew toward the time when even what was loft of her darling would have to be removed forever. (The time that was allowed by the government for bodies to remain unburied was three days.) The father had given strict orders that the child's nurse Bhould-not be informed of the death of her foster-son until after tho funeral, as he felt convinced she would at once come to see him, and he dreaded the effect the sight of her grief might have on his already broken-hearted wife. However, the order was illkept, and on the morning of the funeral, after all the guests had arrived and were grouped round the coffin taking their last farewell of the lovely boy, in rushed the nurse, her hair down, her dress all torn and travel stained, ner j boots nearly worn off her feet. On bearing the news, she had started off without waiting for extra clothing, without word or look to any one, and had rnn the whole night in order to be in time to see her boy. As she entered the room she pushed oast servants and gaeBts, and on reaching the coffin, seized the child, and before any one was aware of her intentiozi or had presence of mind to prevrut her, she had vanished with him in her arms. It was found Bhe had carried him off to the grenier orgarret, and had locked and barricaded the door. She paid no attention to threats and entreaties, and all attempts at forcing the door were equally fruitless. The guests waited patiently, hoping that she would before long return to her senFon and bring back the child's body for burial. " A.t the end of an hour or more they heard the heavy furniture rolled away and the door opened. The nurse appeared, but with no dead child in her arms?the little thing's arms were clasped lovingly round her neck as she pressed him to her bosom. The monrnful assemblage was turned into one of joyful congratu lation. The woman would never epeak of the means she had used to restore the j boy to life; indeed, although she : became from that hour a resident in the I family and a trusted and valued friend, Bhe steadily forebore ever referring to the incident in which she played so important a part. She lived to see the rescued child married and with a family of his own around him. " The heroine of the second anecdote was a first-cousin to the above 1 rescued child'?a young lady of thirteen or fourteen years old. After somewhat protracted illness she, to all appearance, died. The mother literally refused to believe it, although the doctors and the other inmates of the house saw no reason to doubt the fact. The funeral was arranged, the grave made, and the specified three days had come to an end. j The mother had never left her daugh- 1 ter's body; she had tried every availa- : ble means to restore her, but to no pur- ( pose. Ag the hour approached for the , ceremony to take place, she became more and more distracted, and more , desperate iu her efforts to convince her- . selt that she still lingered. As a last re- j source she went fer some strong elixir, i and taking out of her pocket a frnitknife with two blades?one blade of gold, the other of silver?proceeded by continual working to force the gold , b?ade between the teeth; when inserted, she poured a drop of the elixir on the blade, then another and another, and tried to make it enter the mouth; but it seemed only to trickle back again and down the chin. Still she persevered, becoming more desperate as the mo- 1 ments flew on to the hour, now so near, when her child was to be taken from her. At the very last, when she was i beginning to dread the very worst, she thought she detected a slight spasm in the throat, and on closer examination i she became aware that the liquor was no I longer returning, as it did at first. She i continued the application, every mo- ] ment feeling more excited and more joyfully hopeful. Presently the action of : swallowing became more decided; she i felt a feeble flutter at the heart, and before long the eyes gradually opened and closed again; but the breathing became quietly regular and the mother was satisfied that now no one would dispute the fact; so she called her house- i hold round her, and proved to them the joyful fact that her child was restored to : her. and that no funeral procession < would leave the house that day. Before long the child fully recovered. The i fruit-knife with its two blades is to this dfty the most precious heirloom in the family possessions. "The recovered one lived to form a deep attachment to her cousin (the rescued boy of the first story), possibly from tho foot of the strange similarity in their early history; but his affections were already engaged by the young lady whose story we are now going to relate, the facts of which resemble somewhat those already told. This young person was no longer a child when death seemed to claim her, but had reached the age of eighteen or nineteen. She had been suffering from an infectious and dangerous fever, and when the orisis arrived, instead of rallying, she, to all appearance, died. It was the custom of the district in which she lived to dress marriageable girls as brides after death, and to bury them in their bridal costume. The young lady in question was therefore laid ont as a bride, in a 'white dress, orange-flower wreath, and vail. The day before the fnneral, the most intimate friend of the deceased, who hod been on a visit at a distance, came home, and insisted with floods of tears that she shonld be allowed to see her. The mother m?st decidedly refused, explainin or that her daughter had been the victim of an infectious fever, and that she could not allow the daughter of a friend to run the risk of catching it. The young lady persisted, and would not leave the house; but the mother, much as it pained her, was firm in her refusal. However, in the evening the young friend being on the watoh, saw the paid watcher leave the room to go down to her supper, leaving the door unlocked. She immediately entered, and having reverently kissed her friend's pale face, knelt down by the side of the bed to pray. There were can'dles at each side of the bed, at its head, and two placed on a table at its foot. " The poor girl was deep in her prayers, when suddenly, without any movement of warning, the dead girl sat up, and said in a sharp tone of voice : 41 Qu faiatu la f" (What are you doing there?) Startled and horrified to the last degree, her frend sprang fr6m her knees, and in trying to rush out of the room, upset the table on which the candles were placed, and became wedged in between it and the bed, her head downmost 1 Inextricably entangled, she shrieked loudly for help. The supposed dead girl had a, keen sense of the ridiculous, and being weakened from illness, she went off into a hysterical fit of laughter ; and the more her poor friend kicked onwAoma^ flifl mnro olio lronf. TIT* f.VlA UliU OUlCRUiVU) vuv iuvaw uuw U.VJL/ V vuv duet by peals of laughter. The mother and household hearing the noise, rushed up as quickly as possible. The mother was the first to enter the room, and being a quick-witted woman, at once comprehended the situation. She flew to her daughter, and angrily ordering her to be quiet and not laugh at her friend's misfortune, she pressed her to her bosom, and hastily tearing off wreath and vail, dropped them on the floor and kicked them under the bed ; then calling assistance, she carried the girl into another room and put her to bed. The doctor, who had been at once sent for, ordered her to be taken home without delay, and they started as soon as possible. She perfectly recovered : but strangely enough, could never call to mind the startling events of her return to life. She afterward married the gentleman who was the hero of the first story. Her poor friend, when extricated from her unpleasant position, was quite delirious; she had a nervous fever, of which she nearly died, and she nearly died, and she never entirely recovered from the shock her friend's sudden return to life had given her." On writing to the lady who related these anecdotes] for liberty to publish, Bhe says : " Tou are at liberty to make what use you like of onr family story, on condition you do not mention names of family or places ; but you may add that all three wbo were so nearly buried alive, lived to b / very old?my father to eighty-four, r.y mother and aunt to seventy-six, jt- ining their health, rare intelligence, fcuid to a wonderful extent, their personal beauty, to the last.?Detroit Free Pres?. Among the Maine Indians. I found the governor or chief of the Paasamaquoddy tribe at the house of one of his people, where had been invited to dine. I was ushered into the dining room by a small papoose, who took it upon himself to lead me to the governor without first obtaining his permission, and I came upon the party unawares. I cannot say but what the governor was just a little chagrined at my intrusion, but he hastily rose from the seat which he occupied on the floor and gave me a cordial welcome. The " cloth " was laid upon the floor, though a table was in the room, and six of these dusky people were sitting around enjoying their repast. Gov. Solomon Francis is now chief of his tribe. He is eighty-one years of age, and his position entitles him to a further annuity of fifty dollars, which he considers a very small sum, inasmuch as his father many years ago received 8150 for occupying the same position. He is chosen by his people, with a life term of office, and his duties are to maintain order and quietude among the Indians under his jurisdiction. His son, an intelligent youth of about twenty years, was given me as a guide, with instructions to conduct me to those families where a correct idea of the characteristics and manners of the people might be observed. He led me to the oleanly looking dwelling of Lewis Francis, who was then on a porpoise expedition, but his squaw, a white woman of very respecta bio family connections, was busily engaged in preparing dinner. This woman is possessed of more than ordi nary intelligence, with flashing eyes and a proud bearing. Her twenty-three years of married life aud association with his tribe seems not to have had the effect of destroying the refinement and teachings of her early yont'j. She speaks the Indian tongue fluently, and is an j adept in the finest branch of basketmaking. She appears to be happy and satisfied, and when I asked her if she ever had cause to regret her marriage, her quivering lip and subdued mauner betokened her answer, and in the words ol the fair Desdemona, sbe conld have | said : " The heavena forbid But that onr loves and comforts should increase Even aa our day a do grow." She is the mother of eight children, all girls but one, and fine looking, the Indian blood being scarcely perceptible, j The wife assured me that her affection for her husband and children was snch that she would willingly risk ber life to save them from danger. She experienced very little difference in her mode of living from that which she had been accustomed in her earlier life. It is true she had married without the con gent of her parents, but this offense had long since been condoned and family visits exchanged, and her father dying recently, bequeathed to her fifty acres of land immediately adjoining their pillage- Correspondence Baltimore Hun. "Old Dominion*" This term, which is bo expressive and significant to every Virginian, is said to have had its origin as follows: "Daring the protectorate of Cromwell, the colony of Virginia refused to acknowledge his authority, and declared iteelf independent. Shortly after, when Cromwell threatened to send a fleet and army to reduce Virginia to subjection, the Virginians sent a messenger to Charles II., who was then an exile in Flanders, inviting him to return on the ship with the messenger, and be king of Virginia. Charles accepted the invitation, and was on the eve of embarkation, when he was called to the throne of i^ogiana. as soon as he was fairly seated on his throne, in gratitude for the loyalty of Virginia, he caused her coat-of-arms to be quartered with those of England, Scotland and Ireland, as an indtpendent member of the empire, a distant portion of the "Old Dominion." Hence arose the origin of the. term. Copper ooins of Virginia were issued even as late as the reign of George II., which bore on ono side the coat-of-arms of England, Scotland, Ireland and Virginia,?Historical Mag atine,' FOR THE FAIR SEX. Fashions In Millinery* Hitherto bonnets have been very closefitting and small, but the fall and winter shapes show a decided change. One style has a large, flat crown, with a slightly flaring brim. In this shape the face-trimming is composed merely of a shirred satin facing. Several loops of ribbon are masked on the top of the crown, and a long ostrich plume passes down one side and falls on the hair at the back. Strings are considered indispensable to every bonnet. The large Leghorn bonnets, which made their appearance late in the summer, are now imitated in felt and velvet. They are trimmed very much as individual taste _ 1- i?i. -11 *?II BuggCDWj, uub t*u agico ui uuubiiii5 <ui face-trimming. The brim is faced with velvet or other suitable material, and hoops over the face, or is indented in Marie Stnart shape. A very pretty novelty in a hat, worn as a bonnet, gives ns the square Cromwellian crown and straight, narrow brim, which frames the face without turning up or indentation of any kind. These appear in felt of all shades, and are very becoming to the majority of faces. An exaggerated style of the Gainsborough has a high sugar-loaf crown, which slants downward at the top, and a very pronounced brim, turned up high and broad at the side. This might look well on the stage or in a picture, but could hardly be considered* suitable for the street. Some importers have exhibited turbans with closely-rolled brims, and the English walking hat is introduced in all the fashionable colors in felt. a scyuBU moaei in wmte ien is cui up some distance on either side and laced together with a gilt cord; gilt cord to match is placed around the edges; the inner portion of the front brim rising over the forehead is faced with black velvet, and a spray of mag na rosebuds and attendant ledves nestles some distance within. A number of white ostrioh tips are placed in bunch-like form on the top; broad double-faced strings, black velvet and satin, are tied under the chin, and above these are a second pair of narrow strings handsomely brocaded. A pretty hat of black vel vet was trimmed with a black silk netted scarf, dotted with tiny gilt beads. Three small black ostrich tips sprinkled with gold beads were grouped in a cluster on the top. A few years ago red bonnets would have seemed an impossibility. Now they are shown made of red plush, plain felt, trimmed with rich feathers, and tied with red satin ribbons. Handsome reception bonnets have the frames covered plain with ruby satin, or ruby velvet, the trimming costly lace, and a long soft OBtrich plume. Of course, red bonnets will only be worn by persons who can afford several changes, and do not, therefore, need to display them frequently. There is a distinguished demand for elegant bon nets in one solid color of plush, satin, or velvet, the only fashionable combination consisting of trimmings of brocade in high blended colors, which look like Indian embroidery or Persian stuff. Persons who must confine themselves to one " best," select a style to match their best suit, which is usually of black, or some dark shade, trimming it with" leathers to match, and a fabric which contrasts in texture, but not in color. The trimmings for hats are varied and beautiful. Among the reigning colors there is deep cherry, garnet and crimson shade. Brown and " old gold " are used for combining them with. Ribbons are exceedingly rich in some styles, and very gay in others. A new ribbon has narrow plush strides alternating with satin. Other rich ribbons are double-faced velvet on one side and satin on the other ; and here especially may be remarked, very beautiful combinations of color?the velvet being comparatively dark, and the satin usually of a bright or pale shade. Black velvet is contrasted with cardinal; dark blue is placed in juxtaposition with pale blue satin; cardinal velvet is relieved by white satin ; deep garnet by ivory, and deep brown contrasts with pale blue, and seal-brown with bright garnet. Flowers, for the most part, are large and often gorgeously colored. lioses in ich shades of garnet are in great favor, some of which are very dark. Other roses are a bright pink or magenta. Additional brightness is imparted by coxcombs in natural colors, or, oftentimes, feathery tnftings show successions of velvet threads of a deep wine or garnet color, placed in minute bunchings on numerous green stalks arranged in coxcomb-like form. Gilt ornaments of every kind reappear. Much favor, however, is accorded to irridescent ornaments, wrought in imitation of large flies with outstretched wings, lizards and coiled snakes. All are quite large ; lizards, although in wavy undulations, extending oftentimes from more than three to four inches on the bonnet, wnue serpents, tnougu coiled in cork-screw fashion, reach almost an equal length. A Whole Family Murdered. , One of the most cruel murders ever perpetrated occurred at Vincennes, Ind., one night, not long ago. The farm where the murder occurred is situated about four miles east of the city and about 200 yards from the Evansville railroad. A dense forest of scrub oak is near the house on two sides, north and west, the land on the south and east being cultivated. The house is a quaint old structure, and was occupied by John D. Yacelot, with his family?a wife and two sous. These were the victims. Pierre Provost, the hired man, who was arrested lived also in the house. The house consists of three rooms. The two boys?Frank, sixteen years, and John, fourteen years old?were found in bed in one room. Their heads were horribly mangled by repeated blows from an axe. In the door connecting this room with one occupied by Vacelot and his wife, lay the old man, covered with cuts and bruises, there being nine gashes on his head and three on his arms and breast. He was evidently coming into the room to see what was the matter when he was attacked. On the bed lay his wife, with her head horribly mutilated and her throat cut. the jugular vein being severed. Three axes were found smeared with blood, only one, however, showing marks of nsfl Provost claimed to have escaped through a window, but examination shows the window fastened down and cobwebs across on the outside. He also stated that a blow was struck at him with an axe lie jumped out. The sill of the window shows a blow from an axe, but an indentation on the low rail of the window-sash shows conclusively that the blow was struck with the window closed. The sight in the house was sickening and horrible in the extreme. The floor was covered with blood ; the walls and ceiling were spattered with it, and the bed-clothes were literally soaked in blood. Vacelot was an old Frenchman of quiet ways, and well known as an upright, honest farmer. He was fifty-five years old, and his wife wa8 about fifty. No cause was assigned for the deed, save tbat Vacelot had just received about 8100 as the proceeds of a sale of cattle, which was supposed to be in his house. In some English coalpits it is found necessary to force down 850,000 cubic feet of fresh air every minute to supply the needs of the workmen, '' i i gjjaairtiiiliiii Items of Interest. t .1 The head-scenter?Pomade. j A chimney sweep?A hurricane. /J Strapping fellow?The sdioolmaaM^^a A "female doctress " is advertifled'iifc*i? v] The present population of Chicago, *\ -J according to the census just completed, Since its foundation in 1795 the ent Paris mint has coined 1,700,000,00(??j J Flood's San Francisco mansion not be completed before 1884, It cost over $2,000,000. i j In the past seven months then ba*'^ -v'| been more than $60,000,000 deposited ia ~ j French sayings banks. ,'4 By the use of the microphone ycm : ] can hear the rope walk and the bntiev 7 - H|| fly. Or the gum drop. / A traveling fortress, "an iron-dad" - \ coach, is now running on the Oheyeaagga ^ and Black Hills stage route. He who strives after higher expa&'M j ences (not simply wishing that he had ' -j them) is sure to obtain them. ' I ? -- - - TiiBrBBBI Home cannibals prefer iHHBlS ut j anything else for cooking. They would / j like to live on the Isle of Man. i Thoughts that bhrn?Xmateto.poetiy ^ j when the editor's waste-basket to oyer ' j flowing .?Stamford Advocate. j The Washington Capital, whioh is | anthority on slang, says " Oheese it" c corruption of " Don t give it a whey." % \ j The Egyptians were certainly v&ti .<?] qnainted with the art of glass-making. ' ^ i Beads have often been fctmd in thi* ';1 mummy-cases with the preserved xruc-tt?*o u^OKUiiaif iimunn ways like itself. It in equal and pure, ^ without violent demonstrations. It ifr3BBp seen with white hairs, bnt is always -j young in the heart. j ..<1 All good things of this world are w >; farther good to us than aa they axe of-,;-. ?a use; and whatever we may heap up t?-$' rd others, we enjoy only as much Jffl can use, and no more. ~ 3j The Journal of Microscopy sayg"tfeii^|B entire Bible could be photographed azr ^ -M a little more than an inch and ? half. It ' could be photographed nearly ten times ;'?^ "1 I on an ordinary postal card. There is this difference between thofpKg , j ? ' 1 Li ~ . mone^mon^is IhemostEnvied, j the least enjoyed; health is the moiSfovi enjoyed, but the least envied. r:;*|?BSy| King Humbert, of Italy, is rapoidt^HH^J to be far from welL He looks p?ek?4w|i#^/] attenuated, and his ohest is affected. his illness should prove fatal the th*om>^g J will go to his little son Victor Emanuel. < A painter's apprentice fell off ajsosfc^' "''3 fold with a pot of paint in each rafldgSI | He was taken up insensible, but as boobE^T' - M as he was restored to consciousness^#!? J murmured : " I went down with . J colors, anyhow." * ' <1 Have you known how to compose yo^gS ' ;i'j manners? You have done a great deal V\ more than he who has composed boo)ap^ Have you known bow to take reposef, ? You have done more tnan no wno a^jjw taken cities and empires. . j Augustus and Maud linger long on the t 1 pomh these clear, cool evenings and a . j drink in deep draughts of astronomy ; - i that is they attentively and persiatentijrvr^ j study the*reflected stars in each othera^^H| eyes while they take particular notice Mars' movements. . A Scotch witness somewhat given ] prevarication was severely handled by a .' j cross-examining counsel. " How tax is ' | it between the two farms?0 said counsel. " By the road it's twa mile/'-Jj^H "Yes, but on yonr oath, how far is as the crow flies?" "I dinna ken; I *.;.a never was a crow." j There is nothing more aggravating A a sensitive mind than to contemplate jj^^H magnificent mountain scenery utilized " I bv advertising dodges, lettered in lamp- J black or yellow wash, in sections varying, -j from five fathoms to a quarter of a mile, -vla| horizontal measurement. j hax-haxxvo. 1 Daisied meadows, field of clorer, . - ? j Grasses juicy, fresh and sweet; . In a day the wild bees hover J Over many a fragrant heap; ^ J Windrows all the meads do cover, -'* SEB Blossoms fall, and farmers reap; .. .-gaB In a month, and all is over? - -r Stored away for winter's keep. . ?Bora Bead Goodale, in Bcritmtr. ~iagj| The champion long-nosed man resides. at Sacramento. Its owner was at break- ? > J fast, when a friend seated on the oppo- f . J site side of the table, knowing him to be^, . 1 a little near-sighted,remarked, " There's 1. I a fly on the end of your nose." "Ia?; f.. I there?" responded the owner of the- v:; ;1 horn of plenty. "I didn't know ? 1 Just please scarce him off; you're er to him than I ami" Choate's Conversation. I XU0 lUllUWILIg UUUUV AO UU1U Ml article in Harper'a Magazine on Bnfus Ohoate, the celebrated lawyer and once United States senator from Massaahui ^7?. setts: One of the charms of Mr.' Choate's conversation was his habit of exaggeration. To attend tha perfong- ' :i ance of Mozart's " Don Giovanni" wLi like listening, he said, to 10,000 folp*f of birds. He knew that no exaggerates in mere words could adequately expreap ^3 the delight that a sympathetic mind few in coming into vital acquaintance with work of transcendent genius inanyde-; $ partment of literature and the fine arts. -'Jfrj Ten thousand birds would be a small testimony to the unelodies of Mozart '; $30 but 10,000 forests of birds is a oompariH son which indicates the rapture of won-g^J* der and admiration which Mozart's-masteipiece excites in all souls capable of * ? '? TTTJ1L it:. feeling its Deauiy. vtr im uim kuuwv^ to verbal exaggeration Choate thai' vj instantaneous humorous recoil to&es? '# 9 travagant assertion characteristic M ardent natnres whose sense of the ludfc crous is quick as their sense of. -the fl beadtiful and the sublime. ''.Interpret *. 3 to me the libretto," he eaid to Sis datigh- B tor, " lest I dilate at the wrong emo- | tion." Sydney Smith never said any- ' I thing better than that 9 Ancient Wonders. , : Nineveh was fourteen miles long, . *-5^3 eight miles wide, and forty-six miles around, with a wall one hundred feet: r - j high, and thick enough for three chari:'^ ots abreast. Babylon Tvas fifty miles within the walls, which were seventy-five feet *-r'3?3a thiokandone hundred feet high, <Kjh one hundred brazen gates. The themple of Diana, at Ephesus," * #"Tir hnndred and twenty feet to thfV -yj support of the roof?it was one hundred' ? ^ years in building. The largest of the pyramids was four i l hundred and eight-one feet in height, and eight hundred and fifty-three on ... j the sides. The base covered eleven << acres. The stones are about sixty feet in length, and the layers are two hun- A dred and eight. It employed 350,000 men in building. - 'A The labyrinth of Egypt contains three hundred chambers and twelve halls.* ' Thebes, in Egypt, presents juins.^' ' >, twenty-seven miles around, and con* , .?tainea 350,000 citizens and 400^004^--^ slaves. _ * "' The temple of Delphos was so rich' in donations that it was plundeieJ of 850,* 000,000, and the Emperor Nero carried away from it two hundred statues. The walla were thirteen miles around. .