University of South Carolina Libraries
/ v . -7 ' >* 3 -' * ':- ' - ' '' 'i^-f "V ' ''* '. i v . ';' ' * ABBEVILLE PRESS & 'BA^SSSW ... v y{ C B?B?''> * ; "' .; :v ^ " ? ? : irTTT-~TT~nTTZIZIII7_ - ? ? ? * ' ^ BY HUGH WILSON AND W. C. BENET. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1879. NO. 29. VOLUME XXV. <<|j 4 . . W f,73 _... ?^mbmm??? % y v ; : ? ; ~* < The Pampkin. Oh! .greenly and lair in the lands oi the sun The vinee ot the gourd and the rich melon run, And the rock and the tree and the oottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold. Like that which o'er Ninevah's prophet once grew While he waited to know that his warning was true, And longed lor the storm cloud, and listened iu vain For the rush ol the whirlwind and red fire ol rain. On the bank3 ol Xerid the dark Spanish maiden Cotnes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden; And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to b?hold Through orange leaves shining the spheres of gold; ^ Yet with dearer delight, from his home in the North, I On the fields ot his harvest the Yankee looks forth. Where crookuecks are coiling and yellow trait shines And the sun of September melts down on his vines. Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from east and from west, From north and from south, come the pilgrim i and guest; Whon the gray-haired New Englander see* round his board Hie old broken links ol affection restored; When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smileti before; What moistens tholip and what brightens the j eye, ' j What calls bock the post like rich pumpkin : I Oh! fruit loved of boyhoood! the old days j recalling, When the wood grapes were purpling, and ! brown nuts were falling; When wild, ugly (aces we carved in its skin, " Glaring out through the dark, with a candle | within; When wo laughed round the corn heap, with j hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin, our lantern the moon, TelliDg talcs of the fairy who traveled like j steam In a pumpkin-tthell coach, with two rats for a team. Thpn thauks for thy present! None sweeter or better E'er smoked frotr. an oven or circled a platter, j Fair Imnau never wrought at pastry more fine, Brighter eyes r.ever watched o'er its baking than thine; And the prayer wfticn my mourn is 100 iuu ; to express Swell* my heart that thy shadow may never j grow less; j That tbo days-of thy lot may be. lengthened j below J And the lame ot tby worth like the pumpkin : vino grow; . ' i And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset j: ?ky Golden tinted and lair as thy own pumpkin 1 pie! ? ?John Gr. Whitiier. j j AUNT POLLY'S STORY.' ? ' Mary Sanderson, city born and bred, , was on a visit to her mother's aunt, I' Mrs. Polly Perkins. One day she entered the house, her j cheeks all aglow. 1 I met Mr. Tracy and his mother out>; rising, auntie. What a sweet facte she has, and how fond and proud her son is ' of her!1' : AuDt Polly was making pies. " So he orter be," she said, cutting deftly the superfluous crust from the : one she had just covered, the rings of dough falling over the plump bare urui. J "There ain't many sich mothers; what , j she underwent fur him can't be told in j worcis." j"She inquired after you, Aunt Polly. I: 8he said you were once the best and ! only friend she had." ! Polly smiled, as she glanced up from ; 1 the apples she was slicing. " It's true as Gospel, child, though 11 there wouldn't nobody think it t? look j! at her now. Conrted an' sought arter as she is now, the time was when every i heart and door in Barberry Green was i closed ag'?n her but your Aunt Polly's, p An' she ain't forgot it, nuther. Grand 1 as she is. an' high as she might carry 1 her head if she was a mind tew, . 1 she ain't forgot how I stood by : ^ her through all her troubles. She give me the black silk gown I wear I' Sundays, an' the lace cap an' kerchief , j you was admirin', an' that easy-chair in j the square room, an' the carpet an' pic- | turs. There's scarcely a week passes ; 1 but what she sends me suthin' or ruther, >( if 'tain't more than some fruit or' flowers." 1 " Tell me all about it, auntie," said ; Mary, coaxingly; "I know it must be , I interesting. Do, and I'll help you to j i make the pies. I can pare and slice : 1 apples." Polly looked rather dubiously at ! Mary's white dress. < " If you are goin' tew dew that, dear, i j you'd better put on one of my aprons, ! < so as not tew soil your eown." 11 Enveloped in one of Polly's gingham ; < aprons, which nearly hid her from view, 1i Vfo?-t? tnnV tVio n?n nf nnnloa ?itiH rt lnw i i vwva VMVX v. ? *v" j seat by the tab e at which the former j: stood, rolling-pin in hand. "Now begin, auntie," she said, "at !i tho very beginning, mind, when you i first knew her." j i "If I dew that, I'll have tew go back j tew when we was girls, an1 used tew go |' tew the deestrict school together." " Jenny Locke was the darter of Tom f Locke, the blacksmith, a big, brawny ! < feller,with a voice like the growl of a i bear and an arm like a sledge-hammer. How he ever come tew have sich a sweet, I pretty girl as Jenny, passes me. She j didn't look a mill like him, nor his wife, j nuther. Folks said that she looked like ' Tom's grandmother, who was an edi- j cated lady, an1 who ran away to marry i his grand'ther. But I never see her. j She lived at Barberry Centre, an' died i when Jenny was a baby. "Tom had five other children, all girls, and Jenny was an odd sheep in the flock, looking like a moss-rosebud among hollyhocks, or a violet underneath a kedge. "They are all nice girls, enough, full of fun, an' bound tew nave a good time; but Jenny was the flower of the family. nnhnHv hpln lorintr her i iuri(/ wuiuu v Mvwt.j ?q ? ? that knowed her. It was as nat'ral forher tew be gentle an' sweet an' ladylike as tew breathe. "An' she was iust as pretty as a pictur; with big black eyes, an* hair jest the same color, as soft an1 shiny as silk. * I used tew like tew watch the color in her cheeks a comin' an' goin'?now jest a delicatc pink, an' the next minute as red as the beart of a June rose. * " An' there was more than me that! used tew love tew watch this. But I j hain't come tew that yit. " Squire Tracy was the richest man in I Barberry Green, an' lived in the biggest an1 grandest house, an' he felt his oa.ts, you may depend. Not that he was above spcakin' tow common folks?he allers spoke tew the poorest on'em?but ^ it was in a grand, paternizin' sorter way ; that didn't exactly suit some people. i ' The old squire wa'n't none tew | pleasant iew live with, nuther, not if half the stories told 'bout hira was true. He had a terrible temper, an' was as sot in his way as a mule. Everybody said if Mis' Tracy hadn't been one of the Eeaceablest creturs alive she never could ave ?Ot along Kith him. But as 'twas, she didn't have no trouble, or, if she did, *obody heard on't. "Tl.cyhad one son. Norman Tracy was liked by everybody in the villagj. great an' small. He was so brave an1 generous, an1 had sich pleasant an' winnin' ways! Both the squire anl Mis' Tracy sot their life by him, thougn they had different ways of sliowin' it, an' 'twa'n't no wonder, nutlier. " Mis' Tracy hadn't no girls of her own, an' she tuck a fancy tew Jenny when she was a leetle bit of a-thing. She used tew often have L-er up tew her house tew spend the day or arternoon, an' was allers takin' notice on her whenever they met, thoush she was so modest an' retinn' that it didn't seem to set her up none, as it would most girls. ".Tpnnv was allers handv with her needle, an' tuck nat'rally t? all kinds of fancy work; an'when she was growed up, Mis' Tracy U3ed tew have her tew her house weeks to time se tvin' fur her. Sometimes she would go home nights and sometimes she w juldn't, jest as it happened. " Arter a while Norman came home. He had been tew college. He had growed an1 altered wonderful, hut he had the same handsome face an' merry, winnin' ways. "Norman was allers agreatmother'sbov. an1, as Jennv was- sewin' fur Mis' Tracy all the time jest then, him an' her was nat'rally throwed a good deal i3wg ether. " I had married an' settled down in a home of my own. But John an'me was ambitious tew git ahead. Wehadnt paid fur our place, an'so I used tew dew odd jobs at the house fur Mis' Tracy, ironin' an' clear-starchin' her muslins. She was pertic'ler 'bout sicli, an' alters said I suited her tew a T. So I was in an' out the house consider'ble. " Mis' Tracy used the room openin" out of her'n, an' which used tew be trie nursery, tur a sewin'-room. Tew my mind rtwas the pleasantest one in the house; the winders was low, lookin' out upon the garden, that was full of flowers an' shrubbery. "It was warm weather, an'the door was open intew the hall, an' I used tew often see Norman in there mornin's, either talkin', in his pleasant way, or readin' aloud tew his mother, out of some book of po'try. He had a beautiful voice, an' I liked the sound of it, tho' I couldn't make no sense on't. "Jenny allers sot by the winder, sewin', an' I remember, as if 'twas only yesterday, how pretty she looked, the color a-comin' aD' goip' in her cheeks, an' her downcast eyes shinin' through the long lashes. An11 remember how he lookied at her, mi' how centle his voice was when he spoke tew her. An' I minded that they used tew often be in the garden an' down by the river teweether. "I've often wondered sence what his mother could be thinkin' on. But she seemed tew think that Norman was the boy that he was when they used tew play tewgether, an' then Jenny was so still an'quiet, inai sne aiun i imvu uu suspicions as to what was comin'. . "I was sorter oneasy myself sometimes, when I see how Norman continued tew be aliens wlwre Jenny was? an1 she seemed no ways averse to it? fur I knowed that the squire would never consent tew his marryin' Tom ! Locke's darter, an' Mis' Tracy, fond as she was of Jenny, would never think her a fit wife fur him. " I don't know how it came out, but the squire seed or heard sutliin' which roused his suspicions. I wa'n't there und I wa'n't sorry, nuther. Them that was, said that he ript an' raved fit tew take the roof off. T1 e upshot on't was, that Norman went off tew furrin parts, 1 :m' Jenny was sent home mighty sudding. " Sammy was only a few weeks old, , then, an' kept me tew liomepooty close, 30 I didn't see nothin' of Jenny 'cept i tew meetin', an'then her pale, sad lace went right tew my heart. But I thought it was from grievin' arter Norman, an' that arter a spell she'd get over it, " Arter a while, some ugly stories eot afloat. I wjis mad enougn when they w?s fmt. t/^ld me. for I didn't believe , one word on't. But I made up my mind ; that I'd see Jenny, an' have a talk with her. But moren a week passed, an' somehow I didn't git started; suthin' or rut her happened every day tew present. " One cold, stormy evenin' in December?I sha'nt never for git it the longest day I live?I was sittin' alone by the j Bre. a-knittin'?husband had gone down , intew the milk-suller for suthin'?when i [ lieard a tap at the door. . 441 opened it, an' there stood Jenny, with nothin' round her but a thin shawl, an' her face as white as the snow at her feet. I "'Fur the land's sake!' says I, as I , pulled her in tew the fire, 4 what brung i you out such a night as this?' | j 44 Twice she tried to speak, but her j | roice ended in a sob, 1 ruboin' her hands j ill the time, which were list like ice. | < I'hen she said: j 44 4 Polly, I haint nowhere to go, an' : ] no friend but you!?lather's turned me out of doors!" , 44 Then she fell tew the floor in a dead faint. i j 441 hollered tew yer uncle, an' be- j i twixt us botli we got her ontew the bed j < in my bedroom. Then I built a rousin' j s Bre. while he went iur the doctor. j; 44 Jenny was dretful sick all night, an' j i ill the next day. WJien the wust was | i over, she didn't seem tew rally. It! i tlmost see?ned as if she was goin' tew 11 die from pure weariness and disgust of ' life. Arter trvin' everything else I < lould think on, I put her baby in her 1 irms?as fine a boy :is I ever laid eyes ! on. She kissed it, an' from that mo- i tnent began tew git better. \ 4,Her folks didn't none on 'em come ] nigh her, an husband an' me both said shejcould have a home with us as long 1 as sTie was a mina tew stay. 11 " Sieh acommotion as it made in Bar- < berry Green I never see yit! The folks in the village made all sorts of errands to come in, so's tew see 'Jenny Locke's child.' i " A body would ha' thought thatshe'd sunk tew the floor with shame, tew meet all them pryin', curious eyes; she was allers sicli a sensitive thing, coloring tew the ears if a man looked at her harder than common. But she didn't seem tew mind it one speck, but sot like a marble statoo, an' almost as white, holrtin' her baby in her arms as if 'twas the most nat'ral thing in the world tew have it there. "Of course they was all cur'us tew know who's 'twas, though none on 'ein durst ask her outright, she had sich a cold, proud way with her. But they didn't none on 'em get no satisfaction, with all their hints an' spyin'. Even tew me, Jenny never mentioned its father's name. "As soon as Jenny got strong enough she went to work sewin' ag'in. She was so handy in makin' and hxin' over that she found plenty tew do. " Mis' Tracy took her son's absence ery hard; her health was verv poor, so I heerd. As fur the squire, folks said he was more ca'tankerous an' harder to get along with than ever. I didn't see neither on 'em tew soeak tew. *' Mis' Tracy never spoke to Jenny but once. It was the summer arter Norman went off. Jenny an' me sot ort the porch sewin' when I see her. eomin' down the street. " She sorter hesitated when she reached the gate and then opened it and waiKea in. "I was settin1 a little back of Jenny. I looked at her, but there was not a bit ot change in her face 'cept that it might be a ieetle paler than common. "Georgie, the baby, was ,playin'at her feet, the very pictur' of what Nor man was at the same age, as I hcerd Mis' Tracy say arterward. 44 Mis' Tracy looked at the child and then at its mother, layin' a roll of bills , on Jenny's knee. 44A proud, almost angry, look came into Jenny's eyes. She handed 'em back, sayin': ; 44 4 1 can't accept charity from you." ; 44 Miss Tracy made a motion tew go | on, and then stopped, sayin': 44 If my son has wronged you, Jenny, it is not charity." 44 4 Your son Ins not wronged me, , madame.' j 44 Miss Tracy passed on, though I , minded that she kept her eyes on the > child so long as it was in sight. , 4'Not long arterward Squire Tracy \ dropped down in the street in a fit of apperplexv, and died afore mornin.' 44 Mis' Tracy had the body put in the , tomb, telegraphin' fur Norman tew come : home immejetly. , 441 sha'n't never forget the day he ' come. Jenny was at the winder when ! he rode by. She never said a word, but ' I took notice that her cheeks was as red as the June roses that was growin' out- < side. 41 Not more'n ten minutes arter, a ( neighbor rushes in, savin' that he'd been throwed from the kerriage ontew a heap | of stuns, an' taken up fur dead. , 44Snatchin' up her child, Jenny ran , out inter the stvert, an' I follered. She made a straight bee-line far the squire's, j where a great crowd had collected?up j the steps, through the hall, up-stairs j tew where the dyin' man lay. 44 As she bent over him. he opened his eyes, an' smiled as he saw her. 44 4 Jenny ?my wife! ?my child! Mother, for my sake, be kind to them!' | 44 These were the last words that Norman Tracy ever spoke. 44 When Jenny saw he was gone, she 1 gave a sharp cry an' fell tew tin floor. An' when they loosened her dress, tew t.rv tow hrinir her tow. tliev found her marriage certificate, close to her heart, where she allers kept it. "The lather an' son was buried on the same day, an' a sadder house an' funeral I never went tew, "Howsumever, Jenny was righted at last, an' them made ashamed who had looked down on her, an' who now repented of their harsh judgment. " I needn't tell you that Jenny? now Mrs. Noiman Tracy?never left the house which she had the best of all rights tew he in. Old Mrs. Tracy never i forgot her son's dyin' words. She was ( as kind to Jenny as an own mother could be, and as for Georgie, her grandson, she fairly worshiped him, an' does < tew this day. " The three live very happy together in the big house on the lull, an1 from which nobody that's sick or in trouble ( is ever turned away uncomforted or empty-handed.?ilfary Grace Halpinc. Color-Blindness. I)r. B. Joy Jeffries, of Boston, America's leading authority on color-blindness, has been examining the 6tudents ofYale college, to ascertain how many of tliem suffered from defective vision. Out of 325 students examined he found seven to be color-blind. " I find," re- : marked Dr. Jeffries to a Union reporter, "that one male in twenty is color-blind ' - 1 J V... I to a greater or icsser uegree. iuu , wouldn't think it affected some people < to the extent it does. There are young people who cannot tell red fruit from i green leaves. You may well imagine i they've no business to go out picking strawberries or cherries. To some colorblind people grass looks red, whileothera often run into red painted railings taking them for grass, and to them blood looks bottle-green in color. I know a case 1 where a man had a blue uniform and ' waistcoat. He wanted a pair of trousers to match and so went out and bought a red pair! To another victim the color 1 of cucumber and boiled lpbster was the i same. Molasses and blood have the ' same colors to many color-blind persons. J I heard of a m?n who never saw a red ' nose?red to him always had a blue ? color. An English authority tells of a I j'oung man who picked up a red iiot ' coal and wanted to know what that 1 funny green thing was, Again, an artist 1 who had become color-blind painted a I red tree in a picture! In another in- ' stance a man could not distinguish by ' gaslight the variously colored bottles < in a druggist's window. There is a case I on record of a postoffice clerk whose cash > account was always wrong. He might ' have got into serious trouble but that is i was accidentlv discovered that lie was I color-blind and could not distinguish > ffom tVirt crroon nfnrnns whpn 1 making sales. And I shouldn't wonder ' if many a letter that is sent to the Dead t Letter office because it has on it a two- < cent stamp instead of a green three-cent t one, would never have so miscarried but 1 that a color-blind person unknowingly < applied the wrong stump." J "And what causes color-blindness, ' doctor?" inquired the reporter. i " It is a congenital defect, largely t hereditary, although it may be from | disease or injury. When congenital, it i is incurable, but when it results from i diseases of the eye or brain, it may not 1 become permanent. A jar or shock as 1 in a railroad accident may cause a per- J 'on to become temporarily color-blind. < The excessive use of alcohol and tobacco ( may also cause it." f " And what do you hope to accom- j plish by our investigations r" c "My object at present is to bring be- fl fore the community the dangers and t orevalence of color-blindness ? the r Sanger to Jife and property on land and 1 ?ea, of this curious visual defect. Do t you know that English rail ways pay two c millions of dollars a year for killed and t injured passengers?" When I uet the t nublic aroused on this matter, I hope to i lA/??olofiTTO ooh'nn foton lot t IUIVC OUtll *v ivui/ivu ,.*v ivill prevent the employment by public ? corporations of .color-blind servants, s Ri'd and preen signals at sex, and red s =ignals by railroads?many an accident f is caused by color-blind employees mis- c making these colors. I believe all em- c ployees should be tested on this matter, f Already in Massachusetts the legislature t lias taken hold of the question, so far as i axamining railroad employees is con- c cerncd. I hope other States will do the t the same. Moreover. I think my inves- j tigations will be of value to private ?or- j porations, in that they will run no risk of employing color-blind help, and perhaps I or some one else may yet discover Rome cure for this defect. I gain my livelihood by m> practice as a physician, and pursue my color-blind investigations ! out of pure 6cientitic interest." 1 Dr. Jeffries said that out of 11,735 men . examined by him,he had found 486 color- ; blind, and out of 10,(505 women exam- ' ined, only six were color-blind. Voudouism. Dr. Peebles, the lecturer, says that he recently saw salt strewn on doorsteps in New Orleans. lie asked what it meant, and the rep'.y wns: " It is consecrated salt, to ward off the demoniac charms of the voudous. There are 20,- ' 000 of them in New Orleans, and they work magic, put spells on people, produce bad luck ana even death." He made some investigation of the subject, and among the professed voudou priests ! whom he found wasan old, oddly tat tooed negro called jjr. .jonn. " una , man," lie says, " left Africa in 1839. He confessed to having had twenty wives. Previous to the civil war lie was rich, 1 owning at one time fifty slaves. He said ; many prominent men of the South had 1 faith in his magical powers. When ig- 1 norant people came he used cards and 1 rystals; but with the higher classes he ! simply employed his4second-sight' gift, 1 making at times, it is said, startling re- ' velations." Dr. Peebles describes how ( he visited a voudou camp, where negroes danced and chanted around a ' caged serpent, and boiled the claws of : birds, the scales of "fish, the fangs of 1 snakes, and other things for charms. He is a spiritualist ana believes that voudouism is a low form of spiritual i manifestation. * TIMELY TOPICS. The late inundation of the great plain of Murcia, in Spain, washing away fourfifths of the surface coil, cutting it into fissures, destroying orchards, building^, vineyards, and gardens, and drowning 3,000 people, might, it is asserted, have been avoided if the range of mountains to the north had not been denuded of their trees. Had the original forests remained, tbey would have absorbed a large portion of the sudden rainfall and saved the plain from overflow. Th? floods hist summer at Szegedin, in Hunzary, are traceable to the same cause. The neighboring highlands were left 3horn of treps, without the power of sither attracting or absorbing rains. Naples journals contain some details is to the new phase of the eruption of Vesuvius. The volcano has a very strikinff asDect at present. Around the great cone three craters launch steam and incandescent lava, which loses itself in the deep valley between Vesuvius and Mount Somma. At the end ol October two small craters opened, blowing off portions of the mountain which obstructed the issue of the lava. This is .flowing slowly in a northeasterly direction, and is visible to the naked eye from Naples. In spite of the smoke, showers of pumice-stone, scoria and red ishes, curious visitors no not hesitate to approach the edge of the crater. Tbe lieat ffe bearable there at a distance oi Lwcnty-five to thirty meters. In the last two years the city of Memphis has buried 6,000 of her people and QQ AAA AAA in ^anifnl Qt)H I UCftlJV uuu AU v?iav??i ??um business, through the yellow fever epidemics. The Appeal asserts that filthy gutters, bad drainage and accumulated garbage caused all this distress and ruin. That paper now demands all methods of purification by fire, drainage, fumigation, street paving and the most rigorous enforcement of the welliiscei tuined laws of health as shall insure the city against a recurrence of the epidemic. Otherwise, Memphis is threatened with decay if,not extinction. The citizens of Memphis are evidently ilive to the importance and necessity of sweeping sanitary processes and of vigorous measures being adopted to carry them into effect. The ereat good similar measures did in New Orleans last su nmer should afford the utmost encouragement to the sorely tried people of Memphis. One of the bottles in every castor, in Rvery household, restaurant and hotel in the land, is supposed to contain genuine olive oil, from France, Italy, Spain. Adulteration of the true oil lias increased to such an extent as to induce the French government to nave the mat ter investigated by the chemists of the academy of sciences. One of the latest adulterations is with an oil made in " France from cotton-seed oil-cake, brought from the United States, or even with the American cotton-seed oil itself. Both oils can be rendered colorless, and having neither taste nor smell, afford great facilities in falsifying olive oil." Tne great French chemist, Dumas, points out some of the simj. lest methods for detecting adulteration. Genuine olive oil drops, if poured on the surface of water, in a saucer, will take quite an irregular shape. If well shaken in a bottle, air bubbles in the genuine oil, are merely transient. The Interior of Australia. The western half of Australia has been traversed in three parallel lines about three hundred miles apart, while various shorter explorations nave made known large portions of the intermediate country. The southern and northern coasts ire also fairly known, and we are forced to conclude that nearly half of the entire jontinent of Austra'ia is uninhabitable by Europeans. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the globe do we meet with this strange phenomenon of a dense vegetation combined with an aridity equal to that of the Sahara. For the traveler the counry is even worse than the Sahara. For hundreds of miles at a stretch the sandy jndulations are covered.with thedreadea ipinifex or porcupine grass, which reniers it impossible to walk without painrul precautions. Again, for hundreds of nilcs is found the Sense scrub ot dwarf jucalyptus, covering the ground like the :ods of an osier bed. ten or twelve feet Irish, hindering all view of the country, ind rendering it necessary literally to iore one's w:ty, like amole, underground, rhen comes acacia ahrubs, which add :he annoyance of sharp prickles to those )f tho other kinds. Mr. Giles tells us ,hat horses dread the trioda or spinifex ike a pestilence. The constant pricking >f this grass causes raw and bleeding iwelling round the feet, and to escape Vom it thev will prefer to force their >vay through the densest scrubs, where he ground is soft and the spinifex does lot grow. Here they rush along, tearng the coverings of their loads, and frejuently forcing sticks between their jacks and their saddles; then comes a rantic crushing through the scrub, loads ire forced off, and hors-s :ire lost sight )f, and it may take hours or days to rerover them. Nor do the travelers escape, or their clothes get torn and ripped to >ieces, and their bodies scratche'd and jffrm seriously wounded. Sometimes itinging ants abound to such an extent hat the wearied explorer can get no est. However hot and tired he may be, le dare not lie down in the shade, but nust remain exposed to the sun, or lie >n the heated soil in order to escape this orment. In other parts the whole counry is a mass of angular stones, over vhich the traveler has to pass for days ogethcr, without finding a spot of easier ground; while in some districts loose and is heaped up in ridges like the long well of the ocean, and appearing almost is interminable. Often, after passing lays without water, when at length it is liscovered it turns out to be undrinkible brine, or exists in such small quan,ity as to be insufficient to supply the vants of both men and horses for a single lay. Again, the extreme uncertainty of he rainfall renders it impossible to do>end upon the accounts of previous ex)lorers in the same district. A Touching Story. This touching story was told bv Eastnan Johnson to our correspondent in Nantucket: On a narrow island near the New England coast, where primitive customs still obtain, where the crier goes about lI L- J J strut;us uy uiiy ituu mil* wniuuiuau uj niglit, where they dispose oi surplus meats by auction, and the merry maiden and the tar go junketing together in an ancient calash, lives an old lady. Audtie B . The same roof has sheltered three generations of her family, and it would require little less than an earthquake to dislodge her from her seat by the old-fashioned fire-place. There she Kits, a picture of peace and contentment. " Haven't you a single regret in your whole life?" we asked her once. She dropped her knitting, and a dreamy look orept over her placid eyes. " Yes," she said at length, 44 I have. Ten years ago, when my dear dead sister was alive, a man with a hand-organ carne to this island by the steamer. Oh! he could play beautifully. He came near our street, and my sister says to me, 4 Let us go down to the corner and see him pipy.' Well, do you know, I didn't go after all, but she said it was iust splendid, and *1 suppose I shall retrret not hearing that hand-organ to my Ivinc dav." And the dear old soul dropped ft tear on the hair-heeled stocking?Editor's Drawer in Harper's Magazine for December. The dentist is an artist who must be gin his profession by learning to draw ?Picayune. FOR THE FUR SEX. Girls' Drcuel, The dark solid colors enlivened by gay Oriental trimmings are used for children's and misses' dresses in precisely the same way described for ladies. Cashmere, camel's-hair and other woolen fabrics are chosen for the skirts of dresses, while gay broche goods in palm-leaf designs make the basque or other over-drees, and border the plain skirts. Gendarme blue, garnet and deep green are the favorite colors for the plain fabrics, while a'gjeat deal of old sold and red appear in the material combined with it. For the combination dresses worn by girls from twelve to sixteen years two pieces are most used, viz., a short panier polonaise with a plain skirt, or else a double-breasted coat with a plaited kilt skirt. The polonaise may fasten behind or in front, according to taste, and is .very prettily trimmed with a point in front beginning at the neck and ending at the waist line. . This point is made of shirred satin run crosswise in small tucks, or else of plaited plush in lcugthwise plaitings; a reverse of the satin or plush trims each side, and a long-looped bow of satin ribbon is placed at the point. Tho fullness concealed under the bow spreads out to drape the hips, and is fastened behind by two Marguerite bows. The skirt to wear with this polonaise may be of the same material shirred down the middle of the front, and bordered with a shell flounce, or else it may be of corduroy, velveteen, silk or velvet, made perfectly plain, or else edged with a narrow doxplaiting that peeps out from beneath the skirt braid. For making such suits there are stylish shades of blue or garnet camel's-hair sold at $1 to $1.25 a yard, double width, ana these can be worn over plain skirts of gray corduroy that comes in broad line stripes, at eighty cents a yard, or else in the corduroy velvets that have fine stripes, and cost 81.25 a yard. These are singlewidth goods, and arc really striped velveteens ; the colors are gendarme blue garnet, brown and green. The gay Oriental cashmeres used for over-dresses or for trimmings cost from $1.50 to $5 a yard, according to their width and quality. The only costumes made entirely of one fabric for misses are those of cloth or of corduroy, and these usually consist of three pieces?a coat basque, or plap a nlnitfui w.iist hnlted in. and a round apron over-skirt draped very high on each side above a plain skirt simply stitched, or else a kilt skirt. The coat basque is double or single breasted, and of medium length, stitched on theedees, and trimmed with gilt or cutsteel buttons. If a plaited waisi is preferred on account of giving roundness to a slender undeveloped figure, it is made with three box plaits stitched down the front to the waist line, and the same number of plaits are in the back; the garment extends straight around below the hips, and is hemmed there, but the plaits are left) loose, being merely pressed instead of being stitched down. Gendarme blue, bottle green, or navy blue cloths are ? referred for these costumes; next in ivor is the English homespun cloth in checks or f-cru and brown, or else two shades of olive; this is loosely woven, and not heavy. There are also clothfinished flannels in nice blue shades that are quite heavy enough for dresses to change with the English homespun suits, and triese two dresses form an excellent winter outfit for the school-room. Among the ready-made suits at the furnishing stores brown or blue flannels are made up and fancifully trimmed with old gold braid. These have a kilt skirt, with crinoline lining in the hox plaits, while around the hips is a drapery like a plaited scar* The coat is tight in the back, but loose in front, and ifas a deep collar. Sometimes the hip drapery!is rut in two points in front, and there are two hanging ends. These are made for misses of sixteen years, and also fed' lit.tlfl pirls four vears ot aee. The prices range from $9 to $12.50, according to Bize. For smaller girls, for very small girls, from four to eight years of age, dreases are preferred in a single piece cut in the English styles illustrated in tlio Bavir. The fronts are usually made to represent jackets and vests by arranging the trimmings to do so, while the b ick has some plaiting set in below the waist line? These may be made of claret, brown, blue or drab flannel and trimmed with gay India figured goods or with some striped satin, or else they are entirely of the fancy plaid flannels once used 6olely for lining gentlemen's overcoats, but now liked for th?se little dresses on account of their quaint coloring, such as drab with red, green with red and navy blue with white or with red. Those dressy jyincesse dresses have three knife-plaitings across the back instead of the single kilt or box plaiting, and these have a bouffant effect added by a little sash tied below the hips. A dark green cashmere princesse dress with three knife-plaitings and a gay India scarf with a square collar of the India goods, is very pretty; seal brown cashmere is made in the same way. and piped with pale blue, creampnlnr nr bright red. Cordurov in the Arab shades makes beautiful little princesse dresses that serve also for walking coats. The gayest trimming for these is velvet in bright Scotch tartan plaids used as a vest and pipings, with occasional glimpses of red satin facings. Mothers who prefer ouiet colors use seal brown plush or velvet for the square collar, cuffs, pockets and pipings of corduroy princesse dresses. There is no change in the white dreises worn by little girls under four years of age. Mothers who do not like to use white dresses all the winter get solidcolored flannels in the new peacock blue and dark claret colors, and make pretty little box-plaited blouses precisely like the white muslin slips so often described. They have merely three box-plaits in front and behind nearly the whole length of the garment, and a wide belt of the annel is strapped on low on the hips. These are preferred to plaids or checks for the tiny girls; Warm knitted leggings for children to wear in the carriage are sold for seventy-five cents. The knitted drawers that were formerly shown only in white wool are now sold in pale blue, navy blue or garnet, and cost from $1.35 to $1.50. Solid-colored stockings are preferred fnr misijpq ar>d children. The Deacock blue and garnet stockings come in shades to match colored dresses, and are also worn with white dres3es. Scotch plaid and striped stockings are the second choice.?Harper's Bazar. (ieorcre Eliot's Work und Power. A correspondent of the San Francisco Chronicle says of this wonderful woman: Her poetry?she has issued six volumes ? has not been liked, nor does it deserv to be liked in any measure witli lie novels. Still, she prefers her poetry, and would rather be ranked as a poet than a fietionist. Her entire earnings have been about $250,000, and she could make a contract any day for a new story for which she would be guaranteed $10,000. Her money-making power is not excelled by that of any writer in Great Britain. In her case genius has been rewarded. George Eliot is one of the most learned authors of her time. The amount of her acquirement is wonderful. She is |mistress of French, German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, has a tolerable acquaintance with Romaic and Russian, is up in all the sciences, is a critical Latin and Greek cholar. an admirable historian, an archaeologist, understands music, painting and statuary, and is a brilliant conversationalist. Beauty she has not, and nothing like it. Some persons count her very plain, even homely; others hold that she J>as a ver?- interesting iace. j.u me out is in no wise remarkable in appearance; she does not look a bit like a geniusgeniuses seldom do. She has gray eyes, rather large features, abundant hair streaked with white, a medium figure, neither stout nor slfllider, and a pleasant, well-modulated voice. She has bee: extremely industrious in her professioi She composes rapidly often, butcorrec with great care, and frequently injur her health?not robust by any meansby her excessive application. She is pronounced rationalist in belief, in mos respects a wonderful woman, and surel a prodigious intellect. Hotel Clerks Vindicated. " When I was your age," said grand father, to a citizen who was deplorin the unreliability of the newapapers" when I was at your age, I had th same fault to find with the papers, couldn't believe a word that was in'em For instance, every day I read som screed about hotel clerks stickin' u their noses at poor but respectable peo pie who were forced to stop with them At that time I was proprietor of th Fifth Avenue hotel, and was runnin' i on the European plan?if you don't se ?1._*. : ? 4. W Hilt yuu. tvaui, iV3fV LUL lb, LXKJ blUUUXC V show goods, an' that sort of thing. didn't believe a word of what th papers writ about hotel clerks, an' wa mighty sure mine warn't that way Tosatigfy, myself, however, and winai cate hotel clerks everywhere, I put u a job on the newspapers." A smile lit up grandfather's count* nance at this stirring of memory's em | bers; but quickly vanished and h went on: "I alius dicssed in the heieht of fash ion; but I borrowed a suit of clothes c John Jacob Astpr. an' disguised myse as a poor but honest person from the in terior. I had let some friends in th secret, an' they were present to see hot( clerks windicatcd, an' a stingin' rebuk administered to a scurrilous press." At this point grandiather chuckle audibly. " Wnen aW was ready I walked int ' the Fifth Avenue, carryin' an ordinary lookin' gripsack, an' registered as Joh: Crabapple from Squeedunk. 'Niceday I said, as I ornamented the register wit! my stage-name. 'Gladtohear.it,' sai the clerk, as he fixed his necktie at , lookin'-glass in the office. 'Whattim kin I get a train to HackensackP' asked?for I knowed that particuia clerk was strong on time-tables, an' wanted to fetch him out afore the iri vited guests, who were sittin' aroun takin1 it all in. His reply knocked m clear ofl"n my pins. He said, never one taking himself away from the iookin glass: 4 See here, my baldheaded patri arch! you don't see no people sleepir ground here on benches with thei valises between their feet, do you? Yo don't see no man shovin' trucks aroun loaded with trunks, do you? You don' observe any little cirls runnin' aroun with apples to sell, do you? No, reckon not! This is no railroad depol dear sir! If you take me for a tickel agent, a baggage-smasher, or a brak< , man. you get left. I run a hotel, not mere railroad.' I was as mad as a wc hen; but I waited a spell. When h got his necktie to run parallel with hi moustache, he turned around an' nske me what I was after, an' if I woul mind removin' my carpet-sank from th counter, an' carryin' it out to the stabh where it evidently belonged. Thi was imbbin' your grandfather th wrong way of the ha'r; but a I had gone into the schem for the good of clerks in general. I nal urally thought I could stand it if the could. I said I would like to have room, if it was all the same to him. H said he would give me a room in th : cellar, only he was afeard I mightsproui 'Young man,'said I, Sarin'up,41 he money to pay my way an'sleep in th bridal chamber, an' I don't propose t iake no lip from any stuck-up hot< > clerk.' ' Who's a stuck-up hotel clerk! he yelled, dancing out of his little der an'puttin' up his hands?4 who's a stuck up hotel clerk?' I told him I was onl jokin', an'was willin'an'anxious to tak it all back; but he wouldn't have ii Ho danced roun'. an' bobbed up ar down, an' finally bit me a terrible bloi on the no3e. 4 Take that, you old baj seed!' he yelled; 4 an' that, an' that, ai , that!' An'I did as lie recommendet When I was beginnin' to get back a him, he struck the bell an' seven portei seized me an' hustled me out on tli street, the clerk bringin' up the rear, a it were, with his box-toed shoes. 0 i the sidewalk a policeman collared m( an' I was locked up for thirty-six bout afore I could git a chance to explai thines." "Then it can hardly be said that yo succeeded in vindicating hotel clerfc against the slanders of the press." " Windicate," replied grandfathe: moved to wrath; and he ambled of stubbing tho door spitefully with hi cane.?Cincinnati Enquirer. Inventions Wanted to Utilize Sawdns! The mill owners of Minneapolis ai greatly perplexed by the volume of sav dust they produce, and not a littl alarmed at a threatened law forbiddin x ' r\f an/*1i tttnafo K tuts preaniiL uiapusiwu-i m ju>,m .. ~ dumping it into the river. It is ca culated that the sawdust from the suit mer cut of logs converted into boards s that' place amounts to something lik 300,000 cords?Enough to furnish cor stmt work for 150 teams to cart away The millers say they cannot afford s heavy a burden of expense, and tb river communities can as ill afford t have the river spoiled by the rapidl accumulating refuse. Even the stear mills are unable to burn all their w.ist< and the owners of them would no doufc gladly unite with their water-usin neighbors in turning over the surplu sawdust gratis to whoever would agre to cart it away. Three hundred thou sand cords a year of good fuel is cei tainly worth an effort to save, and thi is the product of but one locality. Who will invent an economical mod of making sawdust marketable? An* who will devise new applications fo such materials? Most likely there ar hundreds of easy ways in which sue materials, now a burden, could be turne to profit if our inventors would on! take the trouble to think of them an work' up their practical applications Such simple devices for utilizing wast products are often the sources of larg profits.?Scientific American. " A Level Head." The best time to keep sti/1 is whei everybody is noisy, and the best timet have a level head is when other erani urns appear* to be topsy-turvy. A stil hunt frequently bags more game than ; hurly-burly chase. From everywhere the word comes " Business increasing, goods scarce prices advancing." Just now is th time to listen rather than to join in th hue and cry. Panics rarely come whei everybody expects them. The best wa; is to be ready when they do come. Our theory is this: If you are a mer chant and would do business safely, dis pose of your goods at small profits fo cash while others are holding for an ad vance. Turn your capital often, am alwavs accept an offer that yields a pro fit- Selfishness?the grcd that gets holi of some tradesmen and sticks to then like a chronic disease?is almost sure t< work your ruin in the end. The genera ousiness " boom " that we hear of every where should put every prudent mai on his guard; for, after the riot, th silence which follows brings all of us t< our senses, when we are surprised an< ashamed of our own folly. Therefor I don't put on airs; go slow; keep still I nnH dnnV f.lit fnnmuch : husban< JIDLUU iVUll vivu v vm?m vw>, ? , ynur resources, and. as Josh Billing wisely said: "Young man, the time t< piay 'karelullest iz when you've <?ot i hand full of trumps."?Baldwin' Monthly. Be what nature intended you for am you will succeed, say the wise men, bu it seems to take about twenty-live o thirty years of the average man's lifi before he finds out what it was natur intended him iov.?Dcs Moines Register a FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD ' Keclpei. 0 Roast Titrket.? Select your turke; ? with care; it should be young and ten it der, and not too fat; too large a fowl f; y not always the most desirable, choose i medium sized one. A dressing can b< preDared in several ways; some prefer j dressing made of bread, butter ant oysters, moistened with the liquor front - the oysters, but the true New Englanc g way is to make with chopped bread, j - good quantity of salt fat pork moistenec e with milk and seasoned with swee I marjoram. A rich dressing can also b< . made with bread crumbs and butter e moistening sliglulf with water anc P seasoning with salt and pepper. Thi fowl should be well stuffed, tying th i- neck tightly and sewing the body with i e strong thread, so that they can be easilj it removed when the fowl is dished. Ii e roasting have it thoroughly done, bak 0 alowly at first, basting it with butte; 1 and water, and afterwards with thi e gravy from tho dripping pan. Tw< s hours is sufficient time unless the fow should be large; watch carefully, hav i- ing it a rich Drown when done. . Ver p much depends on the gravy, whicl should be made in the dripping pai - from the juices of the turkey, thicfeeninj - with flour. e Pumpkin Pie.?One quart stewe< pumpkin pressed through a sieve, nin eggs, white and yolks beaten separately w o quarts milk, one teaspoonlul mace one or ginger,a iittle salt.one and one-hal l" cup of sugar, one cup of good molasses beat all well together and bake in crus 51 without cover. g 'Cheese Custard ?A breakfast cup (j ful of sliced cheese, the same quantity o milk, and two eggs; butter a pie dish 0 put in the cheese, pour the milk over and then stir in the beaten-up eggs c bake for half an hour, If a smalle: t> quantity is required, put a teacupful o cheese and milk and one egg. d Spiced Apples.?Eight pounds o a apples, pared and quartered: fou e pounds- of sugar, one quart of vinegar 1 one ounce of thick cinnamon, one-hal ,r ounce of cloves; boil the vinegar, suga X and spice together; put in the apple i- while boiling, and let them remain unti d tender (about twenty minutes); thei c put the apples in a jor; boil down thi e syrup until thick and pour over them > ? rt T>?l ? : AlTLtOflUW.?L cci, uui c uuu ijum ut i- a number of apples, set them to boi ?' with a little water, supar quantity suf r ficient, add the thin rind of a lemon a when quite done remove the lemon rind d buss the apples through a hair sieve t Have some whites of eggs beaten U] d to a froth, beat into them the appii 1 puree, a spoonful at a time, until,thi mixture is of the consistency of whippe< cream, and quite stiff. Serve heaped U| !- on a dish garnished with lady-fingers.a New York Tribune. g Sponge Cake.?A. L. R., Cochran s Ind., sends the following: Five eggs ^ whites and yolks beaten separately; on j goblet of flour, one goblet of sugar, ani e two teaspoonfuls of baking powder , Mrs. H. C. Klingel gives the following '* Two cups of white sugar; two cups o e sifted flour; one-half cup of water; fou ^ eggs beaten separately; two teaspoon e fulsof baking powder; heat sugar am .. yolks ot eggs together; thoroughly mi: ' baking powder in flour, and add white n of eggs and flour last?a little of eacl 0 untu all is used. 1 Where It Pays to Grow Urapoa. 1 It is a fact not generally known thfl v the growth of a vineyard depend c more on the nature of the ell ? mate in spring and _ fall tha H A ! %% r* oiimmor onrl winfpr Th vine thrives best in localities where th |? springs are not subject to frosts nor th " autumns to excessively hot wesithei y Barton says that the cultivation of th ,e vine succeeds only in climates where th 6; annual mean temperature is- betwee: 1 fifty and sixty degrees; or the mea: v temperature may be even as low as fortv eight degrees, provided the summe .l heat rises to sixty-eight degrees. In th l* old world these conditions exist as fa ^ norlh'as latitude fifty degrees; in the ne\ 13 world not beyonu forty degrees. I e both hemispheres the profitable cul LS ture of the crape ceases within thirty de n grees of the' . quator, unless in elevate ' situations or on islands where the in 's tensity of the heat is moderated by th n atmosphere of the sea. The first step to be taken in planting u grapevine is preparing a border for it :s roots. This must be perfectly dry, i not naturally so drained thoroughl; that no stagnant moist ure can exist in ii *' A loose under-soil is, in fact, requisit 13 for-all varieties of grape. Mr. Elliott in the American Wine and Qrape Qrowei says that limestone clays, regards as valuable for the grape by many e are not in his opinion to be preferred, i r- certain requisite of lime may be needed - if miiaf Ho Aosrv>intpH with iron g salts of soda and other stimulating am y monical material to give tieaithy gro wtl 1- to the vine and perfection to 'he fruit i- The authority quoted from further say it that a light clayey, sandy loam, with ai :e underlay of arravel, the surface bein; i- frequently supplied with bone meal, sal . and gypsum, will, whenever the elimati o gives sufficient heat and length of sea e son, be applicable to Elsinburgh. Wol o ter, Croton, Delaware, Iona, Rebecca y Allen's Hybrid, Traminer nnd Lydii n grapes. The same may be said to covpi ?, the Southern Suites, reaching into Cali it fornia. All the named varieites as wel g us the Scuppernong succeed in soils wit J s richness of surface and no und&rlayin/ e stagnant waters. What lias been saic i- of these is also true of every class, bu1 there are varieties, as the Concord, Ca s tawba, Clinton, Salem, Wilder, Barry Hartford, Diana. Cynthia, Ives, Martin e and Lenaaqua, that will thrive ir d- heavier, closer soils provided the bordei r ? 'U onnnliiKt With f-.hp Pip. r iur U1C IUU'3 in: aupjjuxu e ments requisite to the nourishment o; h the vine and be also free from the stagd nant water at the base. y The usual mode of preparing a bordei ii for vines in earn en culture is to digoui . the natural soil to the required depth e about three feet, and length and widtl e necessary. This is to be tilled up wit! a compost uniting requisite materials A southern exposure is generally considered best; an eastern exposure ii generally quite successful.?New Yori 11 World. Wintering Celery. 11 We have seen celery well kept througl ii winter by simply burying an ordinary flour barrel in the ground^mixing in tlx '? bottom about nine inches of thin mild placing the 6eiery uurighfWith the ball.' e of roots in the mud, and covering ovei e with a mound of- straw, leaves oi ^ manure. The celery came out finely 7 bleached and without a sign of shriveling. Experience with many method; - has t%ight us that this is one of th< very best for small lots for familv use r We have also seen excellent results bj * placing the barrel in a cool cellar. O course, the roots should be bedded ir - the mud in this cjuse as well, and i; wil ^ keep fresh for a long time. In quantity i celery may be stored in trenches, sa\ - ? *J -> -'?a!-!?* ' tWO ieei wide unu UI sumnnit it, 1 take in all exceot the leaves whnn stand in<r upripht; The plants must Ife packed i closely together, allowing a ball of earth e to remain on the roots of each. Bank J up slightly op either side, cover aboul 1 two feet deep with leaves, and piact e on this a roof-like structure ol ; hoards to ward off rain. Watei 1 among celery plants during wintei s is as disadvantageous as during it? u growing season it is indispensable. 0) i all materials tor protecting the tops and * \ to keep out frost we have found leaves I best and corn fodder poorest. The latter appeal's to possess some special at3 J traction for mice, and they will harboi t : in it in prelerence to almost anything r else. As for location for storing awaj 3 celery, a hillside in light sandy or grave elly soil is best, and the nearest approach . to this will give most satisfactory rejtfrc vi. . suits. The plants need not be blanched before storing, as old time gardeners beloved. If properly stored they wiil como out white, crisp, and tender to the T leaves. To have good celery, however, " it is, of course, needful tli/it it be well s grown; no plan for storing can make i amends for defective culture. ? New ' York Tribune. I A WOITOERFUL KENTCCKIAN. The Extraordinary Power* of Prof , Field*?Hia FuU of Time alio FlmirM. t At Moorefield, Kv., says a Cincinnati 8 Times correspondent, an interview was t had with John Robinson, a clever } farmer, whose wife is a cousin to a rc3 markoble cbarac'er whose name is Reue ben Fields?" Professor Fields, the i Seventh Wonder," he calls himself?and i truly he is a wonder, a show, a " What ! is it?" "Professor" Fields was bom,' a near Wyoming, Bath' county, twenty- * r eight years ago, and never went to school ! 9 but one day in his life, and on that day c 5 carried wita him an old tea-kettle filled ] with snakes caught with his own h?ndp, t . and when the teacher attempted to jirag j him into the school room, threw the i snakes at him one by one from the ket- 3 tic until he broke up the school for that I a s day, and never returned again. He . g heartily condemned the idea of schools j j and school children all his days up to ! ? e the present, and now rebukes all school * children for going, saying that they are \ f " ' 1 " I 1 A _ 1 t A. | ' " I001S ior going to bcuoui 10 xuau wiihl , ) little knowledge they inherited by na-1 ! ture." Fields glories in the possession [1 ![ of a natural gift?that of being a mathe- i ? matician whose equal is unparalleled !' In fact, he is tho wonder of the little ! " portion of the wqrld ?nd the few rural c * scientists with whom he ha* come in \ * contact. It is positively asserted by j? '? those who have known him from child ! 5 hood that he doesn't know a figure or j a { even the numbers on a clock dial, or ? f even abetterof the alphabet, and yet he t can instantly and correctly compute any i f mathematical problem read aloud to r him, expn giving the answer to the^low, est decimal fraction. He has been tried f on as much as two pages of invoice on r foolscap, of mercantile goods of every ^ s description, and on the last line of goods ! I fitnirM hrfintr r?>ad instantlv eave the I i right answer. and even commenced at j J e the last line and in reverse rotation re- i * . peated every word, article and figure of [ r the entire invoice to a dot. He never i1 1 Vorks at any other trade than that of I *! . running up invoices and making other \ f mathematical calculations. The " pro- i t t fes^or," besides being possessed ofan un- a !. seen and unaccountable world of figures j r P in his mind and the key to all mathe- j I 3 raatical problems, the solving of which . a g requires but an instantaneous flash of i the mind, accompanied by a quick clos- c p ingofthe eyes and twitching of tho o _ muscles of the face, as if in great agony j moinenktrily. aJ<w> carries.in his mind a ? perpetual and never-varying clock dial, f '? and can give the correct "sun'' time to a c '? second, and can also tell the time to asec? ond by a watch in another pocket, never j t a looking at a watch or clock. Hefre-|: ' quently tells persons the difference be-;. ' tween their time and that of the sun. ;? ' He has been frequently asked the time i' r by certain clocks and watches out of | [T sight, and has never missed giving a 1? 3 correct- answer. The 44 professor" has ; * so nonplussed conductors by telling t ,B them the exact time by the watches in f their pockets, and in his peculiar man- j npr of interesting them in his unique j J history, that he' has frequently made , J almost the entire trip from Kentucky to j i 3 Kansas, where his mother now resides, i j [. free of charge, the conductors becoming ! n so interested in him that they would; e almost invariably forget to collect his ; J e fare. Fields claims that he is a sealed < I e seventh wonder, in the possession of a ; * gilt which could easily be taken away j1 e from him, and through fear, therefore. 11 e refuses to receive medical treatment for !( n epilepsy, with which he is afflicted, but j( q sometimes speaksof being willing to re- j .. ceive treatment from a 44 faith" doctor < r with whom he claims to be acquainted, 1 ( e and who lives in the mountains of Ken- | r tucky. Fields is also possessed of an- ; < v other gift almost equally marvelous, j( ? viz., thatofhandlingsnakesof allkinds, j [. including the rattle, the copperhead, gar-! ( ?. ter, racer, etc., and never w:is known to ' ( A have been bitten. He also holds power _ over all ferocious does?having gone ( e once into the yard of James Tipton, at < Jloorefield,where a most ferocious bu lift dog held sway unmolested. The dog q reared up on him and played with him il as he hud never done with any member .. even of the home family, IIo lias also been known to have fondled with the e heels and hind legs of. bad kicking } ; horses and mul^s. and never been hurt. t .j " Professor *' Fields is a bachelor who c rj never intends to marry, weighs 200 c pounds, lias red whisker?, and ha9 a ( J small, "gray eye of destiny," and says f |- he can give no explanation of his won- r [' derful gift save that it is a gift similar to c * that ofBlind Tom. Fields is naturally d 3 of a sullen disDosition, refuses to be interviewed, for fear others will learn ol t a him. seldom permits an acquaintance to a j be f-jrmed with any one. Th^ d , driver, Mr. McClelland Tully. informed c t the Timet that he succeeded in forming 1; e the acquaintance of the ' professor " by t . approaching him with a checker board? <; . he havin g a special gift or charm for the t game, which he delights in and sees all v i through at a glance. }h\ Robinson says s r he considers himself a first-class checker . player, but that Fields beat him seventy- s 1 threp games out of seventy-five at one t ! sitting, and that Fields only gave him I , the two ganjes just to encourage him to a j. *)uliar character, who is indeed a . the greatest wonder of the age. refused t several good offers to go into the show t [ business, and claims that no amount of I , money would induce him to thus degrade t r himsel f and " lose his charmed <rift." * * # - D .il. r . Ho is now sojourning at w yomiux, -uum v f county, frequently visits Mr. Robinson's e . family near'Moorefteld, and is known by s hundreds of the best citizens in Bath a , and Nicholas counties. "* t ?? t | 8200,000,000 Claimed. a i The Robinsons, of Ottawa, and other ? . heirs of Hannah and Betsy Baker, claim ! 1,500 acres of land on which a pnrt of f 3 the city of Philadelphia is built, eleven * 'e square miles of land on the banks of the E Hudson river, a large tract of coal '' lands in Pennsylvania, and scattered c properties in New York and elsewhere. P i The Canadian heirs value the whole J estate, including the Philadelphia prop- 11 erty, at ?200,000,000. According to the P ? Canadian story, three generations ago i the two married daughters of Colonel f William Baker settled near Ottawa, r and in 1801 inherited the property of t their father, to whom hif two brother? had bequeathed their estates. The de- . ' lay in claiming the estates was-due to j* ' the ignorance of trie daughters of their * father's death at the time of its occur- " ' rence and their children's ignorance P f that such an estate waited for them. e ' There are thirty claimants in Canada P I and Northern New Yoik. There arc ? ' fifty-seven other heirs at Brookville, h ': Ohio. These make ou that Colonel * > Jacob Baker died intestate at theresi- " dence of his brother in Canada, leaving v I in possession of relatives his discharge D i from the army, uniform, cooked hat P : nd sword, all of which are still insn thei c ' possession, though the Canadioiib de a ' clare that they Know nothing :ibout ' them, and that the colonel did *nno' go \ ' there, nor did his brother ever go .er J ' According to the Ohio heirs theie w> re 8 | several brothers. j! 1 ?? / i The tusk that Cety wayo sent over to J Enfflund us a heralu of D<?aoe. is seven e feet long :ind nearly three'feet in eireum- ii ferenee al the big end. It wiis a very p j appropriate emblem of peace. If we o ' should see a man coming at us with a s . tusk like tliat, we'd iro in for praee on F i any terms, ami pay the hall rent "our- ? selves."? Burlington Uawkeyt. r Coming? Come. now dreary are the crowded street* With not a soul abroad! How sanies* is the saaoy sky! No Are on hearth, no mirth at board! How long the nights, bow slow the day' My love's away! My love's away! How gay the crowded city streets! How cheerily shines the sen! Dances the fire, and roand the board From lip to lip the greetings ran! No longer in the dumps I roam? ? My love's come home! My love's oome home! ? Mtw York TrU/unt. ITEMS ?F INTEREST. No slouch?A high hat. , Germany is now overrun with beg;ara. Girls, Naomi was five hundred and eighty yews old when she was married. The cook who undertakes to pluck a urkey must make a clean breast of it. -Picayune. t A game of euchre between the seasons ' -Spring passes, summer makes ft next, .utumn orders it up and winter runs]th? ;ame out. A l%nd flowing with milk and honey nay be very rich, but it ought to make bings quite damp and uncomfortable or farmers.?'Hcaqune. " That baby. I admit, is as good as ?heat." remarked a fond patvni the >ther day, " but like wheat it has to be hrcshed "~Whcelinq Leader. There is still outstanding 931,000,00d if called United States government |onds upon which interest has ceased ince the seventeenth of July last. Mr. Soule of Illinois, has, it is claimed, > 00,000 dozen frogs of all ages on an iere and a quarter of land, which he is treeding lor the Chicago and Cincinnati narfcet. TnTin Rfiirht; rlPolarPfl tlljlt if lift WIU & eacher in a school be would make it "i rery important part of. bit> business" tc mpress every boy and girl with the luty of being kina to atl animals. I clasped her tiny hand in mine; I hi 'owed to shield her from the wind, and rom the world's cold storms. She set ler benuteous eye on me* and with her tttle lips said: "An umbrella will do s well." "Many a handkerchief flirtation on 'i he street has caused a runaway," says ' ,n exchange, and the Norristown Herald emarks that "the runaways are often irought to a sudden stop by an 'alter .nd a bridal." Professor Sheldon in his new work in dairy farming, assumes that 350,000,- 00 gallons of miHc are annually made nto cheese in England and 500,000,000 gallons to butter. Tlie quantity of the ormcr product made is 126,000 tons and if the latter 80,285 tons. The three greatest natural wonders oi he American continent?perhaps werf aay safely say the three grandest on arth?are all comprised within the Jnited States. They are the Yosemitfe ralley, the region about the headwaters >f the Yellowstone river, and Niagara falls. Alexis St. Martin, whose stomanh was >lown open by u charge ot buck-shot ifty-eight years ago.fprniehing an opjortunity for the doctors to learn all Lbout gastric digestion, is stilt hale and icarty at the age of eighty-seven, and be orilice in his stomach is still open. le lives at Sr. Thomas, Canada. In a sterile tract of country between [)nr-es-Salaam and Nys*a?swa the ele\hantu oMupIim) tr> ihe Belgian elenhant txpedition marched an interruptedly without food for Jortv-two hours and without water for thirty-five hours, saeh animal carrying at the time bur* iens weighing twelve hundred weight. lines ox a popular article. )p?n and shut, )pcn and shot, E'en lrom the rise to the setting of the inn. )pen and shut, )pen ?tod shut, ? And never a single bit o1 tan. )pen and shut, Jpon and sbut, With.never tond stnilos ol joy or tear*. )pen Hnd shut, )p?n and shut, Oh, this is the life or a pair ot shears. Animal Intelligence Illustrated. A reliable exchange relates a marvelous dog story. Not long ago a Philalelphia lady, while doing her marketing me morninor, received the gift of a :hickcn from a friend whom she met. )n returning home she took the fowl i'om the basket and gave it to the cook, emarking, "I wish I had another * 1 * * -*--1-?? -* A O nicKen; 11 uki.'s i>?u w u??< ? linner." Thereupon the family dog, ehich had been stretched upon tho rindow-siil, jumped out of the window j if something had attracted liim. The log staid away about Lalf an hour, and nme back witn a chickcn in his mouth, aid the burden down, and retreated to lis usual seat on the window-sill. The hicken was yet warm, though dead; he dog had seized it by the throat. It , iras not known whose poultry-yard had uffered. From Portland, Maine, comes a cat tory which compares favorably with lie above. In a village not far from 'ortland is a quiet family, consisting ot n aged gentleman, his housekeeper Hnd heirfaitufulold cat. Family prayers .re a regular exercise every evening in his household, and the cat fell into ho habit of punctual attendance. Nothing was allowed to interfere with hs duty. At the signal for prayers she rould even leave a mouse half caught, ?r give a doomed bird a longer lease of xistence, and decorously compose herelf in the Jap of the housekeeper, with ,n air of attention to the service that vas highly edifying. At the final ' Amen " she went friskily about hef tusiness. But in an evil day there came , kitten that was deemed superfluous, nd sentence ot death was passed upon t. The head of the family undertook he execution of the sentence, and unnown to him the cat was a witness of he scene. From that day the cat reused to attend the evening service, and annot now be induced to listen to the rayers of one who had so shtfckcd her ensibilities. She faithtully performs n /ittin,. Hnfip<i >.? hefnre. and sociably uiTs for the family on nil secular ociisions, but utterly refuses to join in any evotional exetcises. Red Hair Defended. An admirer of red hair, who has it imsclf, glorifies that style thus: 'hrougliout creation nature appears to elight in red. It predominates in the leasure of the imagination, for whatver is beautiful, agreeanle or sublime, artakes of red. The rainbow, the rose, nd the charming lip and cheek of onuty's self, the tun, the source of heat mi light, all are red; as is also the ire, the mishty autocrat cf the unierse. The most brilliant flowers, the aost delicious fruits, theorsnee. the :?pile and the pcavh are red. Through he animal kingdom red predominates. "? .i-~ IS T?... 5 in Uie Kinc OI nK^lfi, Hie nun. nub ;o further; Adam, the first of mankind, ras rod. The ffreatest of Grecians. 'upiter, Apollo und Vulran, were trimon. Samson whose strength was giantie, derived his power from hi* red mir, and the destiny of the empire of Lthens depended on the red hair of Jisus. Queen Elizabeth had red hair: oliad Spenseramt Slmkspeure. Milton i another instance of the proof of my iropositiorf. Also l)efoc, the author f tlie world-renowned story. " Rol.inon Crusoe." Lafayette had red liair: tonaparte'p hair was of this Jor. Li tem us Ward had red hair; so liave i:d Indians, or else why so named? etc A