The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, December 24, 1879, Image 1
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ABBEVILLE PRESS & 'BA^SSSW
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^ BY HUGH WILSON AND W. C. BENET. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1879. NO. 29. VOLUME XXV. <<|j
4 . . W f,73
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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