The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 13, 1879, Image 1
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ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER.?'
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BY HUGH WILSON AND W. C. BENET. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1879. NO. 10. YOLUME XXV.
? * i ; ' 1"J-til . ; * *?. "'yA&riW
The Every-Daj Darling.
She is neither a beauty nor genius,
And no one could call her wise;
In a crowd of other women
She would draw no stranger's eyes; ,
Even we who love her are puzzled
To say where her preciousness lies. !
She is sorry when others are sorry,
So sweetly, one likes to be sad; ;
And il people around her are marry,
She is almost gladder than glad.
Her sympathy is the swiltcst,
The truest a heart ever had;
She is just an every-day darling, (
The dearest that hearts ever had. s
Her hands are so white and little,
It seems as ii it were wrong
They should ever work tor a moment, 1
And yet they are quick and strong. (
Many a dear one needs helping? 1
, She will work the whole day long; j
^ The precious every-day darling,
Every day and all day long. s
She is loyal as knight wore loyal, {
In the days when no knight lied, J
And tor sake of love or of honor,
U need be, a true knight died; ]
But she dreams not she is braver j
Than the women by hei side? t
This precious every-day darling, s
Who makes sunshine at our side.
Ah, envy her, beautyand genius,
And women the world call wise;
The utmost ol all your triumphs
Would be empty in her eyes;
To love and be loved is her kingdom;
In this her happiness lies, l
God bless her, the every-day darling!
In this her preciousness lies. r
1 . t
NORAH. j
i
We had been out all night watching the
herring-fishers, but as soon as the work was ?
over, and the faint giirumering of the dawn ^
appeared in the east, we turned our ooars ~
bow toward the whore, and pulled swiftly 1
homeward. There lay the group of cur- 1
.raghs, still'upon the sceen of their labor, 1
I loaded with phosphorescent fish and dripping
nets, and manned with crews of r
^ shivering, wesry men. The sea, which ,
during the ni?ht had been throbbing convulsively,
was calm and bright as a polished v
mirror, while the gaunt gray dill's were v
faintly shadowed forth by the lustrous "
light of the moofi. ^
Wearied with my night's labor I lay list- "
lesslv in the stern of the boat, listening
dreamily to the measured splash, splash, of "
the oars, and drinking in the beauty of the J1
scene around me; the placid sea, the black 1
outline of the hills and clifls, the silently ^
sleeping village of Storport. Presently,
however, my ears detected another sound,
which came faintly across the waters, anil ,
mingled softly with the monotonous splash- ,
ing of the oars and the weary washing of 1
the sea.
"Is it a mermaid singing?" I asked, J5
sleepiiy. "The village maids are all J
dreaming of their lovers at this hour, but
the Midian Maras sing of theirs. Oh, yes, ?
it must be a mermaid, for hark! the sound
iB issuing from the shore yonder, and surely 0
no human being ever possessed a voice half ?
so beautiful!" "
To my question no one vouchsafed a re- 1
ply, so I lay still half-sleepily and listen* d s'
to the plaintive wailing of the voice, which s
every moment grew stronger. It came
acroas the water like the low sweet sound of
an iEolian harp touched by the summer ,,
breeze; and as the boat glided swiftly on,
bringing it ever nearer, the whole scene '
around seemed suddenly to brighten as if
from the touch of a magical hand. Above
me sailed the moon, scattering pale vitreous
light around her, and touching with i
her cool, white hand the mellow thatched li
cabins, lying so secluded on the hillside, ?
the long stretch of shimmering sand, the t
fringe of foam upon the shingle, the peaks s
of the hills which stood silhouetted against li
the pale gray skv. t
g A white owl passing across the boat, and I r
almost brushing my cheek with its wing, I n
aroused me?t length fiom my torpor. The j r
sound of the voice had ceased. Above my v
head a Hock of sea-gulls screamed, and, as s
they sailed away, I heard the whistle of the
curlew; little puffins were floating thick a< 1
bees around us, wild rock-doves flew swiftly v
from the caverns, and beyond again the 1
cormorants blackened the weed-covered I
rocks. The splash of our oars had for a r
moment created a commotion; presently t
all calmed down again, and again I heard t
the plaintive wailing of the mermaid's c
voice. j
The voice suddenly ceased, and as it r
did so, I saw that the singer was a young s
girl .who, with her hands clasped behind
her, and her face turned to the moonlit sky, t
walked slowly along the shore. Suddenly f
she paused, and while the sea kissed her J
bare feet, and the moon laid tremulous v
hands upon her head, began to sing again.
As the last words fell from her tremulous c
lips, and the echoes of the sweet voice faded i c
far away across the sea, the boat gliding j }
gently on ran her bow into the sand, and I, i t
leaping out, come suddenly face to face t
witli the loveliest vision I ever beheld. j
" Is it a mermaid ?" I asked myself again, (
for surely I thought no human being could | t
be half so lovely. r
I saw a pale Madonna-like face set in a t
wreath of golden hair, on which the jnoon- *
light brightened and darkened like the
shadows on a windswept sea. Large lus- t
troas eyes which gazed earnestly seaward, t
then filled with a strange wandering far-08 f
look as they turned to my face. A young
girl clad in a peasant's dress, with her bare c
feet washed reverently by the sighing sea; v
her half-Darted Hds kissed bv the breeze ?
which traveled slowly shoreward; her j j
cheeks and neck were pale as alabaster, so j t
L were the little hands which were still i c
I clasped half-nervouslv behind her; and as j i
B she stood, with her hands wandering rest- I t
1 lessly first to my face, then to the dim line j r
i of the horizon, the moon, brightening with | t
I sudden splendor, wrapt her from head to j r
foot in a mantle of shimmering enow.
For a moment she stood gazing with a 11
peculiar far-away look into my face; then ] '
with a sigh she turned away, and with her i I
face still turned oceanward, her hands still ; ?
clasped behind her, wandered dowly along | 1
the moon-lit sands. j
As she went, fading like a spirit amid the , 1
hadows, I heard again the low sweet Bound 1
of the plaintive voice which had come to \
me Across the ocean, but soon it grew fainter i
and fainter until only the echoes were j '
heard. j t
I turned to my boatman, who now stood j I
waiting for me to depart. , > :
" Well, Shawn, is it a mermaid?" I nsked ! >
nniling.
He gravely shook his head. j t
"No, yer honor; 'tis only a poor colleen | i
wid a broken, a broken heart r i
I turned and looked questioningly at him,' ]
but he was gazing at the spot whence the | 1
figure of the girl had disappeared. ; i
* God Almighty, risht the dead!" he said, j '
reverently raising h'.s hat, " but him that i
brought such luck to Nora O'Connell de- j
tsrvird His curse, God knows."
This incident, coupled with the strange
manner of my man, interested me, and I !
began to question him as to the story of the
girl whose lovely face was still vividly before
or".- Bat for some reason or other he
seemeu 10 shun the subject, so for a time I
too held my peace. But as Boon as I found i
myself comfortably seated in the cosy parlor
of the lodge, with" a bright turf fire j
blazing before me, I ftmmoneu my hencumnn
to my presence.
"Now, Shawn," I r jd, " close the door,
draw your chair up the fire, and tell me
the story of the lovely colleen whom we saw
to-ni^ht."
; " Would yer honor really like to hear?"
" I would; it will give me something to
dream about, and prevent me from thinking
too much of her beautiful face.'
Shawn smiled gravely'
"Yer honor thinks her pretty? Well,
then, ye ll believe me when I tell ye t;
ve was to search the connthry at the pi
moment ve couldn't find a colleen to n
Xorah O'Connell. When she was4>or
neighbors thought she must be a
child, she was fo pretty and small
white and when she got older, there v
:i bov in Storport but would lay dow
life for her. Boys wid fortunes and
ividout fortunes tried to get her; and
?ingyer honor's*arc'on, I went mys
with the rest. But it went one way w
all; Norah just smiled and said she di
want to marry. But one day, two year
low come this Serapht, that lazy sh;
raun Miles Doughty (God rest his s
;ame over from Ballygally, and j
;traight to Norah, widout making up
natch at all, asked her to marrv him.'
"Well?"
" Well, yer honor, this time
jrightened up, and though she knew
:iiough that Miles was a dirty blackje
widout a penny in the world?thuug
)ld people said no, and there was pier
ortunes in Storport waitin'on her?wh<
vent against every one of them and
ihe must marry Miles. The old p
>ulled against her at first, but at
Sorah, with her smiles and pretty '
von over Father Tom?who won ovei
>ld people, till at last they said th
Vliles would go for a while to the I
?its of Pennsylvania and earn the n:
inrl \vtxr o Kamoo on.-l o Kif c\ f Inn
hould marry her.''
He paused, and for a time there w;
ence. Shawn looked thoughtfully int
ire; I lay back in my easy chair
arelessly watched the smoke which ci
rom my cigar, and as I did so 1 seeme
lear again the wildly plaintive voice c
jirl as I had heard it before that night
" I have called my love bnt he still sleep
V.nd i.ia lips are "s cold as clay;"
md as the words of the song passed thr
ny mind, theyj seemed to tell me the s?
?f the story.
" Another case of disastrous true l
said, turning to Shawn; and whei
ooked puzzled, 1 added,"he died, and
s mourning him ?''
" Yes, ver honor, he died; but if tha
ill'he did we would forgive him.
>roke the poor colleen's heart was th:
hould forget her when he got to the str
and, and marry another colleen at
ime he should have married her;
hat it was but right that he should di<
" Did he write and tell her he was ;
ied ?"
" Write? no, nor till he was dead ei
lere was the poor colleen watching
raiting for him for two whole years
rondering what could keep him; but s
lonths ago Owen Macgrath,"a boy who
one away from the village long ago oi
ount of Norah refusing to marry
ame back again and told Nora that 5
,-as dead and asked her to marry him.
ad made lots of money and was reai
ake a house . nd bit of land and to bu
attle if she would but say the wor
im."
"Well?"
" Well, yer honor, Nora first shook
lead and said that now Miles was i
was as well for her to die too. At this (
poke or.* and asked where was the u
rieving so, since for many months b<
is death Miles had been a married n
Veil, when Owen said this, Nora n
poke a single word, but her teeth set
er lips and face were white and col
lay, and ever since that day she has
o strange in her ways that some think
ot right at all. On moonlight nights
reeps out of the house and walks bj
ea, singing them strange old songs;
he looks out as if expecting him to c
o her?and right or wrong, she'll n
ook at another man!''
As Shawn finished the hall clock chi
ve; the last spark faded from my ci
he turf fell low in the grate; so I wei
>ed to think over the story alone.
* m + * + m
During the three days which folk
his midnight ad venture,Storport was vit
iy a deluge of rani, but on the fo
uorning I looked from my window to
he earth basked in summer sunshine,
ky was a vault of throbbing blue, fle
lereand there with waves of summer ci
he stretcb.es of sand grew golden in tin
ays, while the saturated hills were bi
a If tKo umilintr r\f flip elrv T)?p i
evivified nie, and as soon as ray breal
iras over I whistled up my dogs
trolled out into the air.
How bright and beautiful everyt
ooked after the heavy rain ! The gr<
vas spongy to the tread ; the dew still
leavily upon the heather and long g:
>ut the sim seemed to be sucking up
noisture from the bog. Everybody set
o be out that day; and most people
>ubt. Old men drove heavily 1
lonkeys along the muddy road; y
;irls carried their creels of turf acros
>og; and by the roadside, close to wh<
tood, the turf-cutters were busy.
I stood for a while and watched the
heir work, and when I turned to go I
or the first time that I had not been a
"fot many yards from me stood a fi
matching the turf-cutters too.
A young man, jvith high boot9. felt
ocked rakiehly over one eye, and a
j j!... i .1
Oil)posed in an me euiuro ui ,111c ram
iVhen the turf-cutters, pausing sudden
heir work, gazed at him with wondc
heir eyes, he gave a peculiar smile
isked if they could tell where one 3
)'Connell lived; he was a stranger here
irought her news from the States!
ooinent a dozen fingers were outstret
o point him on, and tlie stranger, a
miling strangely to himself, walked a
I stood for a time and watched liirr
hen I too sauntered on. I turned off
he road, crossed the bog, and made d
or the seashore.
1 had been walking there for some qu
if :ui hour, when suddenly a huge shi
va/tlung across my path, and lookinj
igain I beheld the stranger. Hisiiat
>ushed back now, and I saw for the
ime that his face wa8 handsome,
iheeks were bronzed and weather-be
?ut his features were finely formed, an
lis head clustered a mass of curling c
mt hair. He was flushed as if with ex
oent; he cast me a hurried glance
iisappeared.
Five minutes after, as I still stood
lering at the strange behavior of the i
ay ears were greeted with n shriek w
liorr-pfl to mv verv hp art. Running ill
lirection from whence the Bound proce<
i reached the top of. a neighboring p
nil, and gazing into the vajley below
igain beheld the stranger. This lira
lead was bare?his arms wereout?tret<
ind he held upon his breast the half-fun
orm of the lovely girl whom I had la?
leld in the moonlight. While I Rtood
;ating as to the utility of descending, 1
:he girl gently withdraw herself from
irms, then clasping her hands aroun<
leek, fall sobbing cm his breast.
" Well, Shawn, what's the news ?'' I a
;hat night when Shawn rushed excr
into my room. For a time he coul<
me nothing, but by dint of a few wel
plied questions I soon extracted from
the whole story. It amounted to this :
titter working for two years like a gr
dave, in the black pits of Pennsylv
with nothing but the thought of No
help him on, Miles Doughty founil hii
with enough money to warrant his co
home; that he was about to return to
port, when unfortunately, the day b
his intended departure, a shaft in the
pit fell upon him and he was left for c
that for many months he lay ill, hut as
as he was fit to travel he started for 1:
Arrived in Storport he was astonish
tind that no one knew him, and he was {
to pass himself ofT as a friend of his
when the news of his reported deatl
Norah's Rorrow so shocked him that li
termined to make himself known at or
"And God help the villain that, tol
he was married," concluded Shawn,
he swears he'll kill him as soon as Noi
God bless her!?comes out o' the
that file's in to-night."
* * m *
Jnst three months after that night, I j
myself sitting in the hat where J
O'Connell dwelt. The cabin was ilh
Iiat if atc-d so I'rightly that it looked like a spot
esent of fire upon the bog; the rooms in the
natch house were crowded; and without, dark ca
n the figures as thick as bees in swarming time, ye
fairy Miles Doughty, clad rather less gaudily su
and than when I first beheld him, moved amidst t\v
rasn't the throng, pausing now and again to look al<
n his affectionately at Norah, who, decorated with M
boys her bridal flowers, was dancing with one of til
Ibeg- the straw men who had come to do honor to str
elf in her marriage feast. When the dance was La
id us ended she came over and stood beside me. '
d not "Norah," I whispered, "do you remem- sit
s ago her that nitrht when I heard you singing
uigh- songs upon the sands?'' ca
oul!) Her face flashed brightly upon me, then CI
[joing it grew [grave?then her eyes filled with 15<
any tea rs.
"My dear," I added, " [ never meant to lei
pain you. I only^want you to sing a sequel of
iorah to those songs to-night!" til
well She laughed lightly, then she spoke til
;uard rapidly in Irish, and merrily sang the weilh
the known lines:
itv nf ca
* '< Oh, the marriage, the marriage, y0
6 just With love and my bouchal for me; ^
said The ladies that ride in a carriage
eople Might envy my marriage to tliee."
last Then she was lausrhinclv carried off' to
ways, j?in in another dance. i'1!
the . . )u;
lat if I joined in the fun till midnight; then, wi
slack hough the merriment was still at its height, de
lonev I quietly left the house and hastened home, do
(| ij*e As I left the cabin I stumbled across a an
' figure which was hiding behind a turf- ch
is si- stack. By the light of my burning turf I 1'CJ
0 the ^cognized the features of Owen Macgrath. en
an(j He slunk away when he saw me, and never
arled s'nce that night has he been seen in Storto
!,ort-?Belf/ravia. riJ
f the ' ^
The Cross-Eyed Children. co,
18 on> Nobody can tell who lias not watched m<
it what an efl'ect a physical deformity lik
ough h;ts upon the mind and character of a <*01
:quel growing child, especially one which de- '
tracts in so marked a manner from its '
ove," personal appearance. It exposes the pi<
n he child to the taunts and cruel appella- bo
1 she tions of its comrades, which in sensitive foi
children often drive them into solitude, sin
t was and make them shy and suspicious of a ?
Vbat strangers, in whom, on the other hand, m:
at he they excite suspicion. The turn in the in
ange (,ye gives eitner a wanaenng, uououng iui
tjie air to the face, or, if the gaze is fixed, a lin
after too^ntense expression, which is disturb- '
ing and perplexing, if not downright '
tna?- painful, to the beholder. po
I have known young hoys of eight and ou
ther ton years of age beg their parents to let Co
an(j them undergo the pain of an operation tin
, ^nt> to rid themselves of a deformity which nui
i few subiects them so often to the unfeeling wa
i had remarks of their elders, usually friends mi
of the family, :ts well as the uneuphoni- he<
him" (>us ^ut cxPr(>ssive titles bestowed upon inj
... ' them by their own contemporaries, of Th
tt^ google-eye and cock-eye. Nor does this of I
. <-nd with childhood. The deformity is doj
t0 a disadvantage to him through life. It wa
y UP ]>ursues him in his business and in his Fn
" to profession. Clieated of feature by dis- the
sembling nature, he is often thought to on]
he dissembling himself when nothing is wa
her further from his thoughts. I low often 4
dead ,i0 we hear people say of another, whom did
)wen we know to be perfectly upright and \
se of trustworthy, that they do not like him wa
;fore because he never looks them squarely in an<
nan! the face. And it is a little curious that an
ever precisely here it is th^t the lesser degrees th::
and of the trouble produce the most effect, dia
Idas That peculiar expression which,,people kn<
been complain so much of is generally due to hal
she's a deviation in the axes of the eyes?a 4
phe slight convergence whicli is never very 4
' the conspicuous, and at times only to be de- ser
then tccted by a trained eye, but which, nev- an<
ome ertheiess, produces in all a very disagree- 1t<
ever able impression, although not marked an<
enough to betray its cause.?Dr. E. 0. see
nied Loring, in Harper's Magazine. ' fee
gar; ? bo
nt to Matrimony Among the Znlns,
Of the habits and characteristics of the
Zulu race, mentioned by the eorrespond)wed
ent of the Paris Figaro, some of the most ]
sited notable are to be seen in their matri- fro
nrth nionial relations. The juvenile male ji:L!
Zulu is obliged to work for his father t|1(
The until he is about eighteen years old, when (jr
cktd 'ie ?ocs out 011 a S01tour lo sot
0U(j make his fortune in the world. Although qU
he is not much of a workman where in- jos
rieht dust*y or activity is needed he is, never- tel
delit ^l(^ess' yery keen in pursuit of filthy ;m<
r* liiftoi* ovwl ic nvnr*fipinrr o
' , economy, while lie employs every means, tm
a fair or foul, of scraping together a hoard to
of money. Thieving is his especial forte, jr0
n7 and what with this and an occasional jar
JUi" . sPell of more honest labor he :icquircs 0(r(
. *[ sooner or later suflicient pocket money ;vn(
raw; to enable him to purchase a wife. The tra
, price of a helpmeet in Zululand seems to w>
riued |)C from ten to twenty head of cattle,
were according to the rank of the woman, and i)(v
aden ug ?,oon as tiic jjrst wjfe is secured the (;0]
onng bridegroom begins to enjoy for the first ,rn
s l*ie time some degree of leisure and ease. He p!Vj
sre i makes the unfortunate woman work in f;il|
the fields and earn a fresh hoard, with mi
m at which he procures a second wife, and of
saw then is enabled to be^in a life of com- Soi
lone, narative luxury. Children are bom to tos
gure him, and the males are made to do the tin
work, while the daughters are sold, so Tn
hat that the father has nothing to interfere of
vest with his natural tastes for beer, tobacco A1
bow. und idleness. The Zulu mother-in-law W(
ly in appears in a strange light in the account ra(
;r in given by the Figaro. Tier name is never j10
and mentioned by the son-in-law, and if the j)0
Sora two happen by ill luck to meet, the woand
man hides with all speed behind the ])0'
In a nearest bush, while the man turns his wj
ched head away and pretends not to see. jm
gain . to
Tro ^0w ^'are ^or ^'unarJ Birds.
from Mias A. M. sends Rural Life these :m
irect selected "Rules for Care of Canary fn
Birds." They are seasonable, and aparter
parently .worthy of heeding by those ]j]<
idow who keep that popular pet, the canary: St
y Up 1. During the summer season you pe
waR should have both a drinking cup and a nu
first hathing dish in the cage, and should To
His wash them well twice a day, and till
aten fresh water. The seed cup should
d on' every morning.
best- ^iC room i-1 which the bird is kept ,
cjle_ should never be warmer tlian seventy
' ,,n.i degrees. s
3. Feed plain food. Now and then a no
won_ lump of sugar does no harm; but as a UD
m ~ general rule avoid sweets. Keep the m'
. cuttle-fish dry and clean, and feed only
.hi? fresh and dry seed. '
, , 4. Never place a cage where a draught ,
and' can 6tr'ke tne bird. HA'
j 5. Never smoke in a room where your
,. bird is kept, as the odor of a cigar is fatal ''
f, ,s to canaries. J\,
' 6. As a general rule, never keep the J
..n8 bird in a painted cage; for the birds will !P
It tM'- , . /l. . ?.J.I _!|1 1?.. J i.. Of
, 7 pecK ai uiu wub, aim it win icmi iu
nesi- disease.
sjl)v 7. When your bird is shedding feath- j1^
' J1!8 ors, which is generally styled molting, f'
(1 his !lvoj(i draughts of air. ... cli
By obeying these simple directions, /
isked yOU c;vn keep birds in excellent health
S toil f?r yCarS' ?? rt)l
1 ?1'- Imitation with a Dlflerence. j*j]
At about half-past eleven the father frt
V1? took down his hat, brushed his coat f0,
;V!1d settling himself into steady Boston i10
ania, U10ix.jlant shape, said to the bookkeeper: pe;
ra yj "Mr. Doublentry, I am going to the |,r
mseli custom House, from there I shall go to aji
"1,n8 the Mediaeval Bank, then to the Dryas, jn,
?J?r* dust Insurance Company, from there to wi
ie'ore the Merchants' Exchange, and after that stt
coal- y0U m;ly jjn({ mc jn ,iny insurance ollice So
lead; on st:it0 street." > su
soon 'jjiC y0ung man listened to this in si- co
lome. jpnee, but jis the paternal footsteps died a
ed to away on the stairs he dropped oft* his ah
iboiit stool and in his turn addressed the book- '
ownj keeper: dii
iand " Doublentry, old boy, lam going to ou
ie <le >? .,, inn>.ii fr>
I Jill iuii ? iu vt 1111 iv auu owuic iuuv,u, w
'^e* from there I shall go up to the club and NT(
ii f Play a game of billiards, then I shall ire
tor come down to the Tremont and get an- an
rilh?* other drink, from there I shall go to mi
fever parser's for something to take and a Sfc
smoke, after that you can find me in any Ai
hotel or restaurant about town." do
found And he "severed his connection "with bu
Jorah business for that day.?Boston Commcr- tir
imin- rial Bulletin. F(
The Captain's Story.
" Well, its purty hot," answered a lake
ptain in one of the ferry dock saloons
sterday, "butit isn't nothing to the
rumer of 1836. We had iir at least
renty degrees hotter than this right
)ng for six weeks. I was running tlu
ary Jane between Chicago and Buffalo
en, and I've seen the thermometei
md at 130 degrees in the middle ol
ike Huron."
"That was awful," sighed one of the
ters.
" Well, it was fairish, but we didn'l
11 it very hot till we got into the St.
air river and the mercury went up tc
D degrees when hanging against th(
iter butt. The boys used up 728 palm
if fans on one trip that year. On one
our trips down we were becalmed foi
ree days on Lake Huron. We got il
ere and no mistake."
"Purty hot, eh?"
"Well, I'm an old man, and I don'l
I-n tn rrn lvitinr nt. t.hiq H.1V. h'.tt. T'll t.nl!
u a lew solemn facts. Every sail or
at schooner smoked and smoldered till
ev fell to pieces on deck and left us
der bare poles! Yes, sir, we hadn't a
g aloft as big as your hand. That was
>t at sunrise in the morning, and
thin an hour we had to wet down
cks to prevent them burning. I wenl
wn stairs to consult the thermometer
d it lay on the floor all melted into a
unk of glass and tin! Then I began tc
vlize how hot it was and I got frighted."
,4 What could you do?"
" Well, not much. We had begun tc
; lines over the lee side, so that al
uld take to the water, when the top
il yard came down and killed th(
ok. The links in the chiiins hac
Jlted right out! I never knew a cast
;e it since, but then the weather has
oled off greatly since 1836."
' And about the cook9"
Nothing about him. When w(
jked the body up to heave it overard,
it had spread out in a mass about
lr feet square, and we had to use
ovels before we got through. He was
jood young man and a perfect gentlem,
and his mother never blamed me
the least for scoop-shoveling his retins
over the rail. W e finally rigged our
es and got overboard."
' And it was much cooler?"
Ah! young man, how little you rerters
know of the great hikes spread
I before your gaze on the maps!
oler! Why, the minute we struck
j water we begun squirming like so
my eels. The lake was red hot. The
iter would have cooked an egg in four
nutes. I was blistered from head to
din notime. Some day I will take oil
r coat and vest and show you my back.
II flesh was actually cooked to adeptji
two inches,and for over two years the
ss used to scent cooked meat when I
Iked out, and followed me by dozens.
,*e surgeons fainted away in a heap at
! sight ot my left shoulder, and the
ly man I could get to dress my back
s a butcher under sentence of death."
'It must have neen terrible. IIow
I you come out of the calm ?"
Veil, while I was squirming in the
ter a white squall struck the schooner
1 down she went. It was all over in
linute, and air and water were hotter
in ever. I struck out for the Canan
shore, over a hundred miles away,
iwin^ that it was sink or swim,but in
f an hour I was safe."
'Picked up?"
IWJ1 M il.n K />
y \ en, inj, iujjuuu liju iwy in:
atched his log, " I struck an iceberg
1 climbed up into a cave near the top!
ill you it was a grateful change to me,
1 that's one reason why I can never
a hunk of ice and a lemon without
ling grateful to the man who invented
Lli.?Detroit Free Press.
A Hundred Years Hence.
Man lor the future can but reason
m the past. In a hundred years lie
3 seen or hoard of many changes in
i wondrous globe he calls his home,
eat souls have come and gone; great
lis will come again. Intellect has
ickened the moans of his locomotion,
sened the Adamite course of toil; inleet
will do sj> still. So he reasons,
el so his logic rests upon the past,
le hundred years ago the world
tvelcd in lumbering coaches and sailed
sea in slow-going ships. To-day the
n horse goes tearing through the
id, and steamers bridge the wildest
?ans. Months have chamred to weeks
d hours. One hundred years ago the
iveler between New York and the
Ids of Illinois would have made up
> mind to a three weeks' trip in lumring
wagons, sleepy femes and un[ii
for table stages. In this year of
ice 1879 two days one one night,
ssed in ease and comfort, see him
:oiyat ins journeys end. When ins
ijesty's troops sailed from the. shores
England to give those colonists a lesi,
they were fortunate if three weeks1
>sing on the broad Atlantic brought
?m within sight of Newfoundland,
-day an eight-day passage is a matter
course. Who knows what is to he?
ready whisperings fill the air with
mdrous motors. The busy brains ol
?n work. " Across the ocean in fifty
urs!"?so reads the latest tale?a lifeat
raised by gas and sailed by steam
A. hundred years hence! Who that is
rn to-day will live to see it? And
lat if he does? Shall he see a daily
lioon to London, and an afternoon trip
Florida? Will the docks, now echo?
to the hiss of steam, be filled by
ange, unearthly shapes, with win.es
d fans, and gaudy bags of gas? Will
>ieht trains by noiseless power pass
'iftly beneath the sea, and parcels dart
:e lightning around the world f
ranger things than these have hapned
within a hundred years, and some
ly live to see still greater wonders.?
ronto Graphic.
Thatched Roofs.
Ihe heat of the garret or ot the top
)ry of a flat-roofed house in summer is
t only very oppressive but decidedly
healthy. So long as slate, shingle 01
Gallic roofs are used this heat is al3st
inevitable, and the hottest roofs in
miner are the coldest in winter. The
ntched roof of the old world is a com3te
remedy for both of these extremes.
ic sun's rays cannot send their heat
rough it in summer and no frost can
netrate it in winter. In America,
lere straw is so abundant and cheap,
is somewhat surprising that this kind
roof is so rare. It may be associated
many minds with poverty and rtuless,
but in India the bungalows of the
jhest classes are thatehen. This style
building is expressly suited to a hot
mate, being somf what similar to that
the huts of many savages. The
n^alow is only one story high, with ;i
of sloping down from an elevated cen
to t?n or twelve feet beyond the walls
round. This prevents the sun's rays
>m ever reaching the windows except
an hour or two before sunrise and an
ur or two before sunset. No heat can
netrate the thatched roof, and the
uad veranda all round the house is
y and cool as well as the rooms witho
\ i.i ?u.
ouuu ;t imusi- i:uum uuu uu &u
irmed in winter jus a two or three>:y
house, hut for the whole of our
uthern tier of States it would, we prcme,
be found very convenient and
mfortahle. A house of any shape with
sloping roof might he thatched, as
;o the out-houses for live stoek.
The thatched roof, however, has some
^advantages. It is the most dangers
of all roofs for fire, and it is liable
harhor sparrows, and perhaps vermin.
cl.;?wlne tin nr
V CI nilV-H/ D?iiu^ic.j uitu will \/&
m plates are dear and straw is abundt
and cheap, as on the prairies, it
iglit he used very advantageously,
.illed thatchers are probably scarce in
raericn, and unless the work is well
ine the roof will leak in wet weather,
it a well thatched roof will last a Ion;
ne, perhaps forty, or fifty years.?Ncu
irk Witness.
Origin of Lawn Tennis.
This game, which is played at a season
when the world appeal's at its best, combines
a most perfect exercise for all the
muscles, witli a singular charm for girls
as well as boys, for men and for women.
Tennis is a very old game, for Galen?an
> old Greek medical gentleman?has writ
ten of it to the effect that it was in his
f time a healthy exercise and quite nice.
All of us who eiyoy playL. ? ball games
: would like- to know who had . it enough
tr? inrpnl. f-.hpm TTprnrint.iia tliinl-u thou
; were first played by the Lydians, in the
. reign of King Atyx, many years before
> Christ was born, in order to make the
i people foiget their hunger at a time
i when they were suffering from a dreadful
i famine. The game does not seem to
have that effect now.
; Tennis, as it is now played in the
tennis courts of England, France and
Italy, was perfected and played substan;
tially as now two or three hundred years
I ago.
i It has been called both the "King of
1 Games" and the " Game of Kings." This
i hist name was given it because it was a
i favorite amusement with princes and
i nobles, and both in England and France
1 edicts were published forbidding the
i common people to play it. Henri II. is
; considered to have been the best tennis,
player of all the French kings. Henri
i of Navarre rose at daylight, after the
? cruel massacre of St. Bartholomew, to
continue a game of tennis. Henry VIII.,
of England, was passionately fond of it
until lie became too stout, and you may
> think it would have been better for him
I if lie had kept up his interest in it and
given less attention to matrimony.
; Tennis was originally, and still is,
I played in lialls, or courts, built for the
: purpose at great cost, but the more
> modem game of lawn-tennis, which is
now rapidly becoming popular in this
country, can be arranged for a compara!
tively small cost. Dealers will supply a
very good set for fifteen dollars, which
; jvill furnish amusement for a club of ten
i or fifteen persons during several seasons,
i More expensive and much better sets
can of course be had, and it may be said
of this, as of most other out-of-door
sports, that the enjoyment is somewhat
in proportion to the excellence of the
materials. The only materials absolutely
necessary, however, to enable four
persons to play an eryoyable game are
four racquets, an India-rubber"ball and
a cord suspended between two posts.
These can be had, of very good quality,
i for but little more than half the cost of a
s "set."?tl. Nicholas.
, Some Yaluaftle Directions.
The following general directions, given
by Dr. Townshend, health ollicer at
W:ishington, D. C.f are useful in con:
tagious or infectious sickness: 1. The
sick person should be restricted to one
room, or a part of the house separated
, from the other inmates. 2. Secure proper
ventilation of the sick room, without
producing draughts. Smell is an excellent
guide as to'the state of air; if the
air is sweet, there is but little dread to be
felt. 3. The virulence of any poison
which causes the spread of disease is
greatly increased by concentration in
close rooms, and decreased by dilution
and free circulation of air. 4. The linen,
clothing, bedding, utensils, and every
object touched by or in contact with the
sick, should be isolated, and, such as
will permit, should be thrown into boii
ing water, mere 10 remain ior at least
half an hour. 5. The nurse should be
restricted to the sick room, or otherwise
isolated. 6. Remember that disease is
communicated by both the poisoned air
about the sick, by the clothes and other
articles used or touched by them. 7. After
the patient leaves the sick room, it
should be purified and disinfected. Boil
everything that will admit of it: scald
ail utensils; scrub the floors: whitewash
ceiling and walls. Empty the room entirely,
and leave doors ana windows open
for at least a day or two.
Finally, let me urge upon you, one and
all. the necessity for placing every house,
out-house and yard in good sanitary condition.
To repeat what I said to you
ast year?If there is anything which
constitutes a nuisance on your premises
remove it at once. Ventilate your house,
and especially your cellar (if you have
\ + r i-i _ a. !.j
one;, wen. 11 iiiuru is iimuauu ui anjr
kind decaying in your cellar, or accumulating
mold, remove it. It your yard is
filthy, clean it. If your privy is offensive,
disinfect it. Clean the gutters in
1 front of your own premises. If your
premises are only supplied with surface
drainage, keep the drain clean and disinfcct
it occasionally. Do not allow foul
weeds to accumulate, fall and decay in
your yard. Have your garbage moved
regularly. Whitewash and sweeten up
your fences, sheds and out-buildings.
A Miner's Good Fortune.
There is an Italian in Nevada City
who owes a fortune to a drink of water.
As the Transcript relates the incident,
he arrived at the Golden Gate in quest of
' a fortune and found his way to the
Sierra Butte mine, where he failed to get
, employment. After receiving numerous
rebuffs, he started to return to the lower
. country again. lie became, so weary,
; footsore and disheartened that he began
to wish himself back to sunny Italy once
more, among the vines and olives. He
grew feverisn thinking of his trials and
1 tribulations, and stopped at a spring to
moisten liis narcherl throat. Cattle had
boon that way a short time before, and
1 with their feet stirred up the limpid
' water until it became thick with mud.
The Italian scooped out the basin and
1 waited until the sand should settle to
| the bottom, that he might slake his
1 thirst and bathe his brow. By-and-by
; the water became clear as crystal, and
he stooped to drink. An astonishing
| sight met his eyes. The bottom of the
! spring was strewn with bright yellow
particles that glittered in their watery
bed. With all his ignorance of mining
he knew he had found gold. He rushed
excitedly to a camp where lived some of
his countrymen, and told thestoryot his
i discovery, but they were incredulous,
i saying that some miner had stopped at
> the spring to drink and lost what was
found from his purse. One of them,
. however, volunteered to help prospect
; the claim, although he had no confidence
! I in developing a permanent or profitable
one. The first day panned out .$7()0.
Since then they lmvp worked it con;
stantly and on an extensive scale. It
i has paid handsomely from the first.
La-t year they took out 840,000, and sold
, one-quart( r interest for S20.000 more.
Hope for Stammerers.
Stammering is caused by a disorder of
i that part of the brain which presides
i over speech, though there is no defect in
the tongue or organs of speech. A young
man who stammered, knowing this,
cured himself in a very simple way.
" With each troublesome worn," he ex'
plains, "especially with one beginning a
sentence, I made some slight motion
with the hand or foot, or even with a
single linger, and I found that this plan
enabled me to get the word out without
stammering. In this procedure the attention
is diverted from the effort to
speak to the performance of the muscular
action mentioned, and hence the
speech becomes more automatic than it
is wit li the stammerers generally. And
this is the whole system of cure. It
consists in efforts to render the speech
automatic." lie occupied two years in
; euriDgJiiniself
& ?? '
A Iliff Trunk.
i A correspondent of the New York
. Commercial luis interviewed Miss Ander?
son, who made such a sensation at Newport
with hor his trunk. By actual
measurement lie found the trunk to be
. seven feet nine inches long, four feet two
; inches wide and live feet three inches
deep. On the top of the trunk is the
i following: "liaeirage Smashers: Ii you
I can't lift me, cantor more help. Swear
i ing won't make me budge an inch, lie
j member the Commandment: 'Tho
i slialt not take the name of the Lord tli
I God in vain.'"
GAMBLING AT A MINING TOWN.
Where anil How Money la Staked at Plaj
la lieadvllle.
A correspondent of an Eastern paper,
writing from Leadville, Col., says:
I.oadvfilc is the paradise'of gamblers,
Gnmbling saloons are more than five
times as numerous as churches and arc
twenty times as well patronized. Tlu
gambling saloons are upon the ground
Uoor of some of the principal streets,
me doors stand wiae open wnen tin
weather will allow and crowds go ir
and out openly. There are twenty-on(
regular gambling-houses besides gambling
enterprises in connection witfc
many other kinds of business. I noticed
faro " lay-outs " in a drug store, s
grocery store and in an office. Noboch
apologized for them or seemed to think
it anything out of the way for a game tc
be started when business was dull.
Gambling is as natural as breathing ir
a m;ning camp. Of course there art
men here who do not gamble, but thej
are in the minority, fite gamblers dc
not wait for nightfall, but begin to plaj
in the morning. A majority of th<
men in l^eadville do not live, they onlj
board, and after supper they pour oul
into the street in floclcs. The stores ar(
full; music is heard here and there; ar
illuminated muslin sign and gorgeouf
posters tell the attractions of a varietj
theater, and a line of men extends from
the ticket office out into the st-vet.
At the corner of Chestnut street and
Harrison avenue is a famous saloon, conspicuously
labeled " The Little Church
on the Corner." A printed card proclaims,
" Denver prices: two drinks foi
twenty-five cents." Just beyond the
saloon is a large building into which a
stream of men constantly pours.
The room is large and low. It contains
nothing in the way of ornament,
and but little that could be considered
luxurious. A long bar graces one side
of the room. A picket fence runs down
the middle, and long tables stand at the
further end and upon the sides of the
apartment.
Three musicians are stationed in one ol
the front windows. One plays a violin,
another a harp, and the thir -1a cornet.
Each apparently plays any tuu that occurs
to him, and the result may be
imagined. Ten or twelve games are
frequently in progress at the same time
in this room. The leading game West
as well iis East is faro. It n not uncommon
for a gambler to sit at a table hour
after hour waiting for the impulse which
bids him play. If it does not come he
is quite likely to go home without risking
a dollar. If it does come he feels
sure of success. There is a man in
LcadvilJo who struck the camp without
a dollar. Somebody gave him life supper
and he slept in his blanket on a pile
of boards. The next morning the "inward
voice," as perhaps tire Friends
would say. bade him go to a gambling
saloon. He had never gambled, knew
nothing of the rules of a "money game."
II(^would not go at first, but after a
while strolled aiong Chestnut street and
noticed the very gambling-hou?p in
which the reader is supposed to be.
He went in and stood by the faro
table. A man sitting there looked up
and said:
" Stranger, there is the last of $450.
Luck is dead against me. I want you to
play it for me."
"I don't know the game," said the
new-comer.
"So much the better," reared he oi
the ill-luck; "a green hand always
wins."
" Play," said the voice.
The young man sat down and pushed
a few chips upon the king and the king
won. He "coppered" on the ace and
the ace lost. He "called the turn" and
called it right. He sat at the table
until he had won over S3,000. The
next day he put $1,000 into a prospect
hole and within forty-eight hours mineral
was struck and he was offered $15,000
for his interest.
In one week from the time he entered
Leadviile he was worth between $20,001
and 830,000. His luck said: "Stop
now,-" but he was intoxicated by success
and continued his ventures. In less
than a week he lost over $13,000.
The crowd around the faro table includes
all classes of men. There arc
laborers just in from the streets; furnace
men, who have not stopped to wash the
grime from their faces; long-haired
miners, white-handed bookkeepers,
seedy-looking professionals and welldressed
professionals. One of the Wv.lldressed,
wax-mustached, high-toned
eamblers in Leadviile always wears
rloves. People want very much tc
know why he wears them, but he declines
to tell.
Two or three months ago a citizen
who had inadvertently swallowed " the
serpent which lurketh at the bottom o!
the cup" made a bet that he would find
out why the " Professor" always wore
cjioves. He adopted a very simple
method. Waiting his chance he hurled
the Professor back in his chair, and,
after choking him a minute, remarked,
" Now, I am going to choke the life out
of you if you don't tell me why you
wear gloves all the time."
"All right," drawled the Professor,
without showing the least anger or surprise.
The grip on his neck w;is released.
" Because I choose to," he said,
sweetly. His revolver exploded as he
spoke and the inquisitive young man
staggered back with a bullet in his
shoulder. " Would any other gentleman
like to ask mo any question??" lie continued.
Nobody cared to make any
inquiries, and the Professor put up his
pistol and went on with his game.
A little way from the faro table is the
*' chuck-a-luck" table. The dealers of
chuck-a-luck are less aristocratic than
the faro men and are called " tin-horn
gamblers,1' from the cornucopia which
they use in shaking dice. The figures 1,
2, 3, 4, 5, 6 are painted upon the table,
and the better places his c:ish upon any
one of the numbers. Three dice are
shaken, and if the number betted upon
comes uppermost on either of the dice
the player wins. There are various
combinations like those in policy connected
with the game.
Lansquenet is a game m which the
players contend against each other, the
bank charging a commissson on the business
done. Some one of the players
forms a hank as large or as small as ne
pleases, and the others play against him.
lie can continue to " turn " as long as he
wins, but when he loses he must give
his place to a luckier man.
High ball poker is a rather popular
game. A kcno "lay-out" is used with
balls from forty to ninety. Each player
" antes," the wheel is turned and the
highest number takes what money doey
not go the game for percentage,
Short faro is the boys' game. It is
like faro, except that only half suit is
used, and there are three winners in succession
and then three losers, instead of
one winner and one loser. Why this
particular game should have heen appropriated
by boys is a mystery. Newsboys,
errand noys, bootblacks and
school-boys cluster around the short faro
table and watch the cards jus intently as
their big brothers watch the game at the
other end of the room. Boys are not
very plenty in Leadville yet, and as they
increase in number the public gambling
will probably decrease.
Rouge-et-noir is another flourishing
game. Four aces, one on each corner of
the board, and two jacks in the centre,
and a square of red and one of black for
those wlio bet on color, Compose the layout.
The denier chants in a sing-song
tone: "Down in time; just as many
black as red, and just as many red as
black; seven for one on the knaves and
four for one on the aces. The jack is the
only percentage the game has, and when
it appears the money on the board belongs
to bank." Jacks ought not to
con.e very often, but it sometimes appears
to players as if about every other
r-nvrl wsis n. iaek.
Tfto " puddle-wheel" can he seen in
one of its forms at almost any race-track.
There are numbers on a board and
V
numbers on the wheel. " Your money
down in time, and the wheel goes 1
' round." If it slops with the flexible W)
Eointer on the right number you win, ia]
ut it does not generally stop there.
[ The " nutshell game," which is played a s
' witli three half walnut shells and a rub- ye
? ber hall Hie size of a pea, is a variation efi
> of three-card montc. The nutshell man ift|
? tosses the ball from one shell to the je)
f other, and wants to bet that nobody can UI]
tell which shell the little ball is under, ^ii
j The peculiarity of the game seems to be a;!
L that if you do not bet, you can tell just 0f
? where the little ball is, but if you do bet tei
you cannot. th
As the evening wanes, every table is
surrounded bv players. The services of at
the barkeeper are in active demand; th
waiters run with liquor to players who tJj
are unwilling to leave their seats, and a
lunch stand where can be obtained what b?
lias been appropriately called " a photo- ^
graph of a sandwich" is well patron- jn
lzed. bJ
/ re
Preservation of Harness. tu
Though the harness is an article of nc
every-day use, there are few who know pi
how to care for it so as to insure dura- a
bility, and to keep it looking clean and se
neat. A harness that has been on a pi
horse's back several hours in a hot or at
' rainy day becomes wet; 11 not properly w
r cleaned the damage to the leather is ir is
1 reparable. If, after being taken from m
( the horse in this condition, it is hung up tr
1 in a careless manner, traces and reins
twisted into knots, and the saddle and st
1 bridle hung askew, the leather when U]
dried retafas the shape given it while st
wet, and when forced to its original m
! form, damage is done the stitching and ^
1 the leather. Those who use a harness m
are not altogether in lault for this; they te
would take care of it if they knew the w
extent of the damage that would result 01
1 frcftn their carelessness, and that they do ?*
1 not is the fault of the manufacturer. It m
1 is a mistaken policy that leads the man- P(
' ufacturer of any line of goods to neglect d<
f'ving needed information to the buyer. ?
very harness maker would study his
own interest by accompanying each harness
sold with printed rules lor preserving
the same. hJ
The first point to be observed is to di
1 keep the leather soft and pliable; this P?
can be done only by keeping it well w
1 charged with oil and grease; water is a
; destroyer of these, but, mud and the sa- ">
line moisture from the animal are even y(
more destructive. Mud, in drying, ab- in
sorbs the grease and opens the pores of m
the leather, making it a ready prey to
water, whiie the salty character of the e3
1 perspiration from the animal injures the t'1
leather stitchings and mountings. It t(.
' therefore follows" that, to preserve a hav- hi
ness, the straps should be washed and h?
oiled whenever it has been moistened by* ar
sweat or soiled by mud. To do this ef- he
fectually, the straps should all be un- h?
: buckled and detached, then washed with ca
a little water and brown soap, then cc
coated with a mixture of neatsfoot oil ^
and be allowed to remain undisturbed er
until tnewaier is ariea out. j.ncn cnoroughly
nib with a woolen rag: the nib- rp
bing is important, as it, in addition to
removing the surplus oil and grease, 8U
tends to close the pores and gives a finish ai
to the leather. In hanging a harness to
care should be taken to allow all the w
1 straps to hang their full length; bridles, P<
Ead, gig and Paddles and collars should
e' hung upon forms of the shape of ?P
. each. Light is essential to the care of "j
: leather, and when the harness closet is e?
dark, the door should be left open at
least half the time each day. All closets ac
should be ventilated, and when possible c?
; they should be well lighted. To clean ^
: plated mountings use a chamois, with a ac
little trip oil or rotten stone, but they hi
should be scoured as little as possible. to
1 Rubber qovered goods are cleansed in n(
' the same jvay. Leather covered need to w
' be well brushed and nibbed with a ??
' woolen rag.
If a liarness is thoroughly cleaned o*
twice a year, and when unauly exposed,
' treated ixs we have recommended, the
leather will retain its softness and
' strength for many years.?Harness Jour'
nal.
\ h<
Napoleon's First Glimpse of Eugenie, tli
! A few nights before the coup d'etat
s which made him emperor. President
r IT 1 A 1 11 "I
> 1X)UIS ixapoiL'un gave a i^niiiu uhw at tuc
[ Elysee. The wealth ana fashion of Paris a5
, were represented there. Perfume of ?[
flowers and strains of sweet music filled lf
. the air. Magnificent as the scene was, w,
1 the president tired of it and loneed to be Pj;
i out under the calmer light of the stars; P
i so taking his friend, Edgar Ney, the .,m
. Duke of la Moskwa, by the arm, he 7
started out through the conservatory for c0
the cool gardens. As he stepped through nl'
> the doorway a picture met his gaze that
f almost took away his breath, and for a pj
[ moment he stood as one in a dream. It V
i was not long, however, before he saw !.
! that the beautiful vision wjis reality. F"
, Standing before a mirror in the conservatorv
was the most exquisite creature he P?
, had ever seen in his life. A young lady, J.1'
; whose golden hair had fallen from its
1 honfining comb down over her white P. :
shoulders, w:is trying t<> arrange the tru- "
nut curls with nervous fingers. The gal.
lantry of a Frenchman would* not permit ca
him to stand staring in the doorway even fin
at so beautiful a si^ht; so, stepping c?;
i quickly to her side, the future emperor, ?tl
with a courtly bow, offered his arm to ,
his future bride and conducted her to a
dressing-room where she could repair jjf'
the ravages of the dance. It was a case Ir.c
of love at first sight, and the ardent Na- UIJ
, poleon hastened back to the ballroom,
where he awaited with impatience the .
return of the beautiful Espagnole. Nor m:
did his regard for Mile, de Montijo prove ,W1
transitory. Ilis attentions became so liy
marked that one day lime, de Montijo
:isked a private audience of the prince,
and told him that his attentions to her y
daughter were the subject of comment, fr?'
and that she thought thev had better 1
leave France. This was at St. Cloud, lai
where the mother and daughter were i
both paying a visit. No "doubt the
prince had made up his mind what to do, .
but princes cannot always lay bare their . .
plans. The mother was told to stay un- 1S^
til the next day; that he would have '
something of importance to communi- wa
cate or the morrow. Did the ambitious wc
old lfidy suspect??New York Herald. (
Battle of Ulundi. ti\
The following are the details of the '
'" ' V... T /"'Knl ? * cj 'c rnvnoc
Viuiury WUU UJ juuiuvutiuwiuiuoiviv-^ Wil
over the Zulus at their stronghold near su
Ulundi, South Africa: Chelmsford cap- ]
tured and burned the camp and kraal of eyi
King Cetywavo. He then sent a demand
to the king for his submission, and as
evidence of that the surrender at Isam- .
dula of certain arms and trophies. The !\e
time fixed for tliis surrender having ex- ttl'
pired, and the trophies not having ar- SP(
rived, Chelmsford advanced in force.
Upon reaching an open region of coun- th
try, the advancing party was attacked by tin
20,000 Zulu warriors, who assailed them he
in front and on both thinks. Chelmsford in
formed his troops into a hollow square,
which the Zulus charged again and again
on all sides, swarming around even to
the rear, and attacking with obstinate or;
bravery and determination. For some sa;
time the situation of the British troops pa!
was extremely perilous, but the superior- ea
ity of their firearms, and the absence on re:
fl?n r\o i?f flio Vnlno r\f mnisl flum on i?_
considerable number of guns, finally re- in
suited in a victory for the English. The ov
Zulus, finding their numbers rapidly di- bu
minisliing by the superior fire of the it,
English, fell back, and Lord Chelmsford, yp
still retaining as a nucleus for the defence ""!
a considerable portion of his force, or- fir
dered pursuit. The Zulus, demoralized a
upon seeing this advance, iled from the an
field, closely pursued by Chelmsford's m<
cavalry. Although this engagement was Mi
so hot. the British only lost ten killed ms
and fifty-three wounded. The loss of m:
the Zulus was about 1.000 killed and a oh
very great number wounded. Chelms- ha
ford subsequently advanced to Ulundi, he
where he burned the kraal and returned na
to camp. Iti
Physical Prime.
The facts that " Blower " Brown, who
an the great six days' match in Engid
by a score of 543 miles, and that
eston, who won it back from him by
icore of 550 miles, were both over forty
ars of age, seem to show that,for some
orts men reach their physical prime
ter than has been supposed. For athina
nf onmf> iL m:i.n is at his best
ider thirty, as in wrestling, swift short
3tance running, boxing, etc. But long
3tance matches, which are trials rather
endurance than of strength or dexrity,
the men of over fiStty have left
e young men. far behind and utterly
oken down, while they came out fresh
they finish. Something analogous to ,
is is found in trotting horses. Horses
at run reach their prime at four or :
re years: the tiotters often do their
ist work at the age of twelve or fouren
years. The reason may perhaps be
this: Youth is more supple and nexie,
and its movements therefore less
gular and systematic than those of raarity.
The walk of a young man has
>t that machine-like regularity and
ecision that characterizes the jjace oi
walker of long practice. There is conquently
some loss of power. The supeness
that is necessary to enable trie
hlete to run at top of speed is in his
ay when machine-like precision 01 pace
the great desideratum. The same reark
applies to the trottinghorse. The
ot is usually an acquired gait, the relit
of long practice and training. The
eadiness of stride that does not "break
3" is of the utmost importance. But
ill the recent result of the pedestrian
atches in England, which twicc gave
ie victory to men over forty, when the
en of twenty-live and thirty were utrly
prostrated by fatigue, snows that
ith good care of ourselves we may keep
ir physical energies up to a later period
life than is ordinarily supposed. If a
an is in his physical prime foranypur>se
at forty, ne ougnt not to be far
)wn the hill at fifty.?Baltimore Every
iturday.
Snn Spots and Famines.
Professor Jevons and other scientists
ive raised the question whether great
ouths, with attendant famines and
agues, are not in some way connected
icii the periodical recurrence of spots
1 the sun. These sun spots have been
und to have an average period of 11.11
::irs, though they may return after an
terval of two years less or two years
ore than the mean. It seems to have
:cn pretty well ascertained that they
:ercise a very small but direct effect at
ieir maximum by decreasing the mean
mperature of the earth. But the data
therto in possession of the learned have
:en insufficient to determine how far
ly of the theories are correct, and it has
sen supposed that the world would
ive to wait many years for their verifiition
or disproval. At this juncture
>mes advice of a great contribution to
ie facts in the case from China. 'That
npire rejoices in a cycjopecua compnsg
5,020 volumes, of which a copy has
cently been bought at great expense for
ie British Museum. The British conil
at Canton took the opportunity to exnine
this purchase, betore shipping it
England, and found that its vast stores
oula be useful in determining many
>ints of historical and scientific interest.
Among th? others was the matter of sun
ots ana famines. Mr. Hosie found that
it fifty-six observations were record1
of sun spots, extending from the year
B. C. to A.D. 1617. While these will
Id greatly to the data respecting the reirrence
of the sun spots, othei: parts of
ip p.vnlnnpHia. nnntain the most minute
icounts of droughts and famines during
"teen centuries. When this work gets
the British Museum the scientists will ,
)t only have the means of determining
ith great accuracy the truth or falsity
' the Jevcns theory, but they will prob)ly
find it a storehouse of information
i many other topics, which could hav?
:en obtained in no other way.?Cleve
nd Leader.
Normal Health and Strength.
All accounts agree that the Zulus have
;alth and strength in perfection?that
leir soldiers can march, or, rather, run
'ty miles in a day with ease, whibt
hite soldiers rarely march more than
'teen or twenty. Their strength and
jility and bravery are the admiration
all those who by some greut blunder
ive been sent to fight them. Now,
hat are the modes of life which have
oduced this extraordinary muscular
rfection. a condition bv no means unmmon
amongst other savage tribes?
le South Sea Islanders, when first disvered,
were models of strength, symetry
and activity; and so with some
our North American Indians. So are
e bearers, or coolies, of India and
onrl Wrtfnr P11*.
illlil, <UJU tlic plSiW&o <wiu U.WIL V???rs
of Mohammedan people. Iij all
ese cases of almost perfect physical
with and strength, there are two great
ints in which the way of living differs
)m that of the gfeat majority of eivi- i
:ed people. Their food is exceedingly <
lin and simple, and they are most of
e time in the open air. The varied ]
ts of cookery and confectionery may he
lied arts for overloading the stomach, '
d the contrivances lor conveyance are i
ntrivances for diminishing physical <
en^th, which can only come from 1
ercise. <
The indoor industries of civilized life 1
} the means of shutting multitudes up '
im the open air; and the various stim- '
mts resorted to are just the way to 1
ike bad worse. The nearer we come i
the simplicity of primitive life in eat- 1
I and outdoor exercise, the less need <
II there be for medicines or works on
trienc:?Nenn Ynrk Witness.
Words of Wisdom.
Adversity is the balance to weigh
nnds. |
[gnorance is a subject for pity; not
ighter. (
V knowledge of mankind is necessary ,
acquire prudenc*.
Jhoose those companions who admin
er to your improvement.
rruth is hid by great depths, and the
iy to it does not appear to all the
>i'ld.
Conversational powers are susceptible
great improvement by assiduous cul'ation.
rhe frienships of youth are founded
sentiment; the dissensions of age reIt
from opinion.
Flowers sweeten the air, rojoice the
e, link us with nature and innocence
d are something to love.
Hie business of life is to zo forward;
who sees evil in prospect meets it on
e way; but he who catches it by retroection
turns back to find it.
Affections, like spring flowers, break
rough the frozen ground at liist, and
s heart, which seeks but for another
art to make it happy, will never seek
vain.
A Sign-Pain?er's Invention.
A. woman who opened a small milliny
store in the western part of the eity,
ys the Detroit Free Press, engaged a
inter to paint her a sign. \\ lien it
me home the other day she saw that it
ul: "Aires. J. Blank,"etc.. and she
lied out, "You have got an extra - s'
Mrs., and you must paint the sipn
er again." The painter saw the error,
it he did not want the job of correcting
and he replied : " Madam, haven't
u had two husbands?" "Yes, sir."
STou were a Mrs. when you lost the ,
st?" "I was." "And do you think :
woman can go on marrying forever
d not lengthen out her title? Mrs. ;
>uns a married woman or a widow, i
rss. means a woman who lias been i
xrried twice, and is young enough to ;
irry again, anil only yesterday a rich
I coon w:w in our shop, and sniil if he .
A n?%tr S.Ia.1 f liaif lumvf #1'00
u any mm mat y\t u ?ii? iiuui-iiti,
1d come up?1' " Oh. well, vou can
il up the sign,1' she interrupted. And 1
Is there to-nay. ]
A Shocking Fellow.*
George Bell, of Portland, Oregon, now
visiting friends in this city,, possesses
the remarkable peculiarity of being able
to deliver a shocK as perceptible and distinct
as that from a galvanic battery. He
attended the ball given by the Master
Mariners' Association at B'nai B'rith
Hall, there created considerable
amusement Tor those who knew the
* ? f-i ?
secret oi inn powers oy tne way in wmuii
he treated the ladies to whom he was introduced
and with whom he mingled in 0
the dance. A Chronicle reporter called .
upon him at the residence or his brotherin-law,
W. F. Pock, on Mission street,
last evening, to request an explanation
of the Dhenomenon.
"You can call it a' phenomenon or
anything else," said Mr. Bell, " but I can
give no explanation of it. I simply .
possess the power of giving these shocks.
and that's about all there is about it. J.
don't care about any senseless publicity
on the subject, though you can mention
it if you want to. I will tell you .
how it works. There is a good deal of,
electricity in my system, and when I
catch a person by each hand it seems' to
pass fiom me to them. You've seen peo-'
pie take hold of the handles of a battery;
well, my hands are' just like those
handles. Give your hands and I will,
show you." . ;
Mr. Bell took the hands of the reporter
in his and pressed them tightly. A
8hock of electricity, in no way umeriug
from that given by a galvanic battery,
was received.
" You see," said the living battery,
" when I draw in my breath the electric
current seems to acouire great'
power." The reporter felt the truth of
the remark as the sharp, prickly sensation
increased, as if a hundred invisible
needles were being shot through the
atms. , . ,
" There, you have the whole thing,
description and experience, as much as I
can give," said he, as lie dropped the *
hands of the reporter.
"I understand you could nick up
needles, Mr. Bell, with your fingers as
with a magnet," said the searcher for
facta.
"Oh, no, I never could do that These
stories are always exaggerated, you /
know," replied he, as he lit his pigarette
and blew the white smoke out through
the open window.
"Ipresume it furnishes yourself and
rienas abundant amusement when you
desire it," suggested the reporter.
44 Well, yes; I can have some fun now
and then. I give the shock, you know.
when no one expects it, and often I
frighten the ladies when I place one hand*
upon a shoulder and grasp their hand
with the other. They take it in good '
part nearly always, though I now and
then get into a little trouble with those
cross-grained specimens 01 numaunj
wh? n?ver can take a joke."
4 How do the ladies treat your e7ec
trical powers? Are they more fright
e?ied than the men ?" :
"Of course. Did you ever know a
lady who wouldn't scream louder than a
man could when she saw a child fall
down stairs? Those who don't know
me at all sometimes get frightened; but
the ones who do usually say.4 Oh, how
ynu shock me, Mr. Bell,1 and laugh. , I
shock the ladies often, but I can't help
it, you know."
At this point Mr. Bell announced tha
he had an engagement to 4111, and the
reporter withdrew.?San Francisjo
Chronicle. y .
Bare Confederate Coins. ' ,.
In the Coin Collector's Journal, pubr
lished in New York, is given a facsimile
of a Confederate silver half-dollar,
a singularly valuable treasure which haa
"come into their possession. The obverse
of the coin is from the same die as our ?
1861 half-dollar, the die used being the
identical one prepared for the New Orleans
mint, but a new die was prepared
for the reverse, the American shield with
seven stars only, surmounted by a liberty
cap, and inclosed by branches of sugarf.'inf"
and nntton in bloom, with the legend,
" Confederate States of America?HalfDol."
In April, 1861, Mr. Memmingor,
the Confederate Secretary of the Treaa- #
ury, selected this design and directed Mr.
A. H. M. Paterson, who is still living in
New Orleans, to prepare the dies. Aided
by Mr. Conrad Schmidt, the foreman of
the coining-room, he did so, and struck
off four coins, one of which was sent to
the government, one to Professor Riddel,
of the University of Louisiana, and a
third to Dr. E. Ames, of New Orleans,
the fourth being retained by Dr. B. F.
Taylor, chiet coiner of the 0. S. A,
There was some difficulty, however, in
obtaining bullion, and so on the 30th of
April the mint at New Orleans was
closed. Mr. Taylor preserved the die as
a memento. Messrs. Scott & Co.. publishers
of the Coin Collector's Journal,
have one of the half-dollars: another
was taken from Mr. Jefferson Davis, who '
carried it as a pocket-piece, at his capLure,
and has not since been heard of,
iind nothing is known of the fate of the
other two.
This bit of numismatic history recalls
that ot the rare pieces of the French colI
WKam XfannlflAT* TTT TVqC
It'UlIUliO. f T uga xiajjvivvu * ??
ibout to issue his first gold coins a specimen
was sent to him, which lay for two
ar three days on his desk. One lock of
hair in his effigy did not plejuse him and
the Emperor sent instructions to the
mint to nave it altered. The alterations
were made and'the amended coins issued,
but a few proofs with the unbosoming
curl had already been struck off,
ind these pieces with the lock have now
become extremely fashionable and costly
curiosities.
Buddhist Priests In China.
The ranks of the Buddhist priesthood
in China are generally recruited by
children, purchased either from their
parents or from kidnappers. It is only
in times of great distress that the poorer
Chinese will sell even their daughters,
still less the valued son on whom may
possibly devolve the paramount duty of
conducting the ancestral worship; kidnapping,
however, is by no means an
uncommon crime, aioeictnepunisnmeni
on detection is a speedy and ignominious
death. Occasionally parents dedicate a
child to Buddha perhaps in fulfillment
of a vow, and the victim is there and
then lormally made over to the eliurch
hy deeds signed, sealed and delivered.
From this step there is no withdrawal.
The child's head is completely shrived;
he is made to.live on a vegetable diet
and to forego the use of wines. IT.i is
taught to chant the Buddhist liturde*, V
without understanding a word ui them,
and, after a required novitiate, pmves
his constancy to the faith hy standing
unmoved while several pastiies burn
down into the scalp, leaving the ineradicable
sears which testify to the fact
that he has put away forever the things
of this world and has been, regularly
ordained as a priest. He has now " left
his home "in good earnest, and all that
remains fro him in this world is a life of
celibacy and dull routine. Criminals
fleeing from justice not infrequently
seek refuge in a religious life, submitting
to the branding ot tlieir neaos anu un;
subsequent discomforts of cloister existence
rathertlian fall into the merciless
meshes of the Chinese law. Sometimes,
too, unsuccessful mandarins throw
themselves into a monastery and take the
vows, driven to such a step by dread of
the imperial frown. It is said that tlx'
foolish officer who. during the war of
1841-42, laid at the foot of the throne his
discovery of the secret of foreign
steameiv, and forthwith produced a v<N
sol \vitH two nuge pjuuwe-wiiiTis mim-u
by coolies inside, is even now languishing
in one of the numerous monasteries
rm the celebrated Lofou Hill, in the nrovinec
of Ivuangtung, whither t: - ::tircd
nfter the iailiireof his scheme. . v? red
with ignominy and shame. /u/ii/l
Magazine.
" Cut it short," said Smythekms to his
barber the other day. Ho meant the
latter's conrereation.? 2few York Mail.