Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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ABBEVILLE PRESS BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WARDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 28, 1880. NO. 8. VOLUME XXVI. ?| The Frog. Who am I but the Irog?tho I tor ? My realm is the dark bayou, ( And my throne is the mud 1y and moss-gi own J log 5 That tho poison vine clings to? Where the black snake slide In the slimy tide, ^ ana toe guost 01 mo moon kmss uiuo. I { And what am I but a king?a kins? For the royal robes I wear? ( A scepter; too, and a signet ring, As vaasels and serls declare; 8 And a voice, God wot! ' That is equaled not In the wide world unywhere! I can lalk to the night?the night! Under his big black wing a He tells me the tale ot the world outright, P And the secret of everything? For he knows you all y From the time yon crawl, ti To the doom that death will bring. y The s'orm swoops down, and he blows?he r blows!? !< While I dram on his swollen cheek, And croak in his angered eye that glows With the livid lightning etreak? c And the rushes drown p In the watery frown s< That his bursting nassions leak. t> k And I can see through the sky- the sky! a As clear as a piece ol glass; V And I can tell you the how and why L 01 the things that come to pass; And whether the dead Are there instead, j" Or under the graveyard grass. ti To your sovereign then, all-hail! ail hail! w To the princo on his throne so grim! il et the moon swing low, and tho high stars | It ti nil " Their hi ads in the dust to him ; ? And the wide world sing? Ix)ng live the kiog! And ?iace to his royal whim! ?James W. Riley. J A MAN'S FRIENDSHIP. ? r C< "Yourfriend, Mr. Cliffe, is certainly si a model of devotion, Lawrence," re- 1c marked pretty Claire Morrison, halfjealously, as she koked a little con- w temptuously after the lazy,loose-jointed, w but not altogether unattractive figure 0j lounging contentedly off into the dis- jt tance. " He certainly has constituted u: himself your shadow, though I wonder ai that he never discovered how exceed- s inglv de trop he is occasionally." tl "Nonsense, dear," replied Captain w Lawrence Stanley, smiling fondly down r( fupon the sweet, pouting face so tl near his own. " I can't have you quar- b( rel with dear old Gerald, for, as you say, be is devotion itseii. i nappenea, v, years ago, to fish his little sister out of sc a lake when she was drowning. She in has since died, and Gerald seems to con- ,u aider his debt of gratitude boundless. He seems to be almost alone in the 0l word as regards family. He has a step- 0i father, but his mother died "several w years ago, and he bad no brothers nor w sistws excepting the one I just spoks b( of, and a half-sister, scarcely more than gj an infant when she strayed away one ac day from her home close to the sea, and tL is supposed to have been drowned. I ij] think his friendship for me would bear tb any test, and I verily believe he would h< not hesitate to give his life for me.." " I have often heard of the strength w and unseltishness-of some men's attach- f0 ments,"answered Claire, thoughtfully; " but surely your friend docs not be- to long to this class. He is too lazy, and gj awkward, and stupid to be capable of gj self-sacrifice, or sentiment of any kind." jn "Yes,"said Lawrence, slowly, "he jn is dull, and slow, and stupid; but hj still?" fo " DUl sun w l' u:ui uuu ?uwv;luiii? more interesting to talk of," interrupted d: Claire, coaxingly, drawing a little tc closer to Ler lover, and he did not contradict her. The scene of our story 13 laid far away amid the lakes and plains of New t Zealand, whore, at the time we write, _ war was waging between the British and the copper-colored Maoris, and st among all her majesty's servants fight- ( ing for the mother country in this far- r. away land were no braver officers than : Lawrence Stanley ard his stinch p friend, Gerald Cliffe. They were sta- r, tioned at the small town of Timaru iust then almost the center of thejirregu w jar sort of warfare waging between u. civilization and barbarism?a position ^ of some danger, not at all suitable for ? Jadies, as Captain Stanley vainly re- ^ presented almost daily to his mother, , who had a year before followed her son from England and was stayiug in tt, Timaru. having with her, as a guest, j, Claire Morrison, the daughter of a x brother officer of Lawrence's, towiiose gt fascinations that young man had fallen , a willing victim some months before, and the wedding day was drawing very ^ near. ' The time when our story opens a F tribe of Maoris was encamped witbin three miles of Timaru, and for several s; I days petty skirmishing had been car- jv ried on between the two forces without any apparent result. 11 Early in the afternoon Gerald ClifFe was ajone in the small parlor belonging ^ to the apartments reserved for the use 11 of Mrs. Stanley and Mist, Morrison in S( the only inn which Timaru afforded gl waiting the return of Lawrence, who had been sent out some hours before in L charge of a reconnoitering party. g' tierakt's vigu naa Deen a long t ne, and he had consulted his watch many Is times rather uneasily, when at last the ? door was thrown open, and Lawrence, ? haggard, trembling, with bloodshot t< eyes, staggered over to his amazed Mend. s1 "Thank God, you are alone!" he si ejaculated, in a hollow voioe, as he sank tf into a chair. " Gerald, old boy, it's all up with me. One of those accursed P coppcrskins has hit me with a poisoned tl arrow, and that, you know, is certain d death?and such a death! Oh, my poor Claire!" fi The young man broke off with some- g thine that sounded like a sob, while ^ Gerald, who well realized the hopelessness ot' such a wound?aeainst the h poison of which the most skillful phy- y Fician had never discovered an antidoie g as if turned to stone, stared with hor- t! ror at the unfortunate man, in whose P veins the poison would so soon begin its f< deadly work; and neither of them neard r the low, despairing mo?n from tiie next ? -com. The two men were still sitting in P b!ank silence. Gerald convulsively i; squeezing his friend's land?for what could be said in the face of such a t 1 3 O tTTOQ q calamity: **ucu a vuuiuivuuu nrao heard in the hall, followed by a sort of T tumbling at the door, which was the 1 next moment opened to admit two I blanketed red-skinned Maoris, ushered f by the landlord, who retired after ex- i plaining that the visitors had just come 1 rom ihe enemy's ramp under a flag of j truce, with an important message for | Captain Stanley. f 19 ' " Well, what do yoa trait. you cursed dirty rascals?" growled ;Gerald, impatiently, for the men seemed in no 1 haste to transact their, business, merely staring curiously about the room which seemed to afford them intense amusement. At this emphatic reminder; one of them, in very broken English, began a f ?low, stammering, but decidedly astounding announcement to the effect that the daughter of' tbeir chief, the Princess Kawara, had been an- unseen witness of Captain Startley't misfortune that day, at which sight her noble and jgt'nep^Mheart had com The august lady had long cherished a lesire to own an Englishman as a hus- I land, and she now sent her messenger ,o say that she would, with an herb vnown only in her family, heal Caplain Stanley's wound, if he would marry her. 1 "You may go back and tell your '< ihamciess mistress that an Englishman , :annot be bought?even with the price < )f his own life: that death is a thousand ' imes preferable to such a life!" cried j] Lawrence, in a voice ot ringing indig- j i lation, as he sprang to his feet with | j ilinched hands. "The man will say nothing of the ': ort," came in clear, steady tones from j' he other side ot the room, and the s riends, turning with a start, sawuiaire, i vith a face like marble, standing in the 1 pen door ot the adjoining room. ! 1 The next moment she was crouching I s t Lavrence's feet, heedless of the grin- j ing, interested Maoris: of Gerald try- J i ug to gulp down a choking lump in his ] liroat, as he looked fixedly out of the 11 rindow; of everything excepting th<i II jrribls earnestness of her appeal. j i ' Lawrence you must not refuse this? j 1 our only chance of life. It will be ter- 11 ibly hard for you at first, I know, my ! c jve. But I have heard only good of i c lis girl. She is said to be interesting, | ] ind-hearted, tolerably educated, and t lmost as fair as a European. Law- ? nee, think of your mother, of your I q oor little Ciaire, for whom who have j s 5 often said nothing jn the world would ! r e too difficult to do." I am here on my | f nees before you, begging for a life j g rhich is so much dearer than my own. ; r Pill you break my heart by a refusal, | awrence?'' j t "Oh,Claire! Claire!" murmured the j r jrely tortured man, 41 knowing you, j L ow could I marry another woman! 1 a or your sake?" ** IVumtt oolro xrnii rrmefc Ho ih.*' r?nn- i f nued the beseeching tones. " What i y rould life be to me after seeing you die j d 1 such agony, knowing that but for c ?eyou might have been saved ? You p mst go to this woman. Who knows? a -perhaps some other arrangement f light be made; but at any sacrifice i< our life must be saved!" I v "Lawrence, she is right; merely a I isit to the woman can do no harm. I c ut these men say that if anything is j o ) be done, it must be to-day, to-mor- i )w will bo too late," said Gerald, Is peaking lor the first time. " If you i b jnsent, I will go with you?or, better | ti ;ill, go before you, leaving you to fol- ! n ?w." t( " Of course he will go !" cried Claire, * ith a smile that wa< meant to be j 0 Hira^eous, but only reminded Gerald 1 f a moonbeam he had once seen light- 8 ig the face of a corpse, and Lawrence ' nwillingly agreed to follow Gerald in ' o ho wniiiH nlpHcrP him. ! il 1 lJUUi y UUVUgu *-v ?? vu.v* ?*.?. , :lf to nothing more than a visit, and j u le glance of steady determination : hich met Gerald's eye as he left the | b >om with the Maoris told him plainly I uit even Claire's frantic prayers would ; ft 2 of no avail. j li Five minutes later Gerald, with a j ft 5ry white face and eyes shining with a ; J> >rt of dogged resolution, was engaged l the unwonted occupation of making ft 1 elaborate though hurried toilet. h With tightly pressed lips he sought ir it his gaudiest necktie, all the jewelry : a dandy brother-officer who roomed a ith him, copiously anointed himself fl ith the pomade and eau de cologne a.' "longing to the same individual, and A ving a disgusted glance in the mirror, j ft icompanied bv a greeting to the figure j tt ierein reflected that sounded not un-! r< se "confounded ass !" dashed out of ! h ie room, and, throwing himself on the ! >rse waiting below, was off, leaving ] w ie gaping groom almost breatheless j ti ith amazement at this strange trans- ci -* * ! rmauon. ," On rode the captain, cantering swiftly i tc ward tbe Maori encampment, his pace j ir adually growing slower as he neared i s destination, a haggard look of suffer- j P' g in his large dark eyes growing more C tense as the steadfast resolution so |h istily formed grew every moment more j tl ced. ! h One instant he stood motionless after Io: smounting before tne hut pointed out , ^ him as the quarters of Kawara; tliPn, j " uaring his shoulders and throwing i r< s head n little back, muttered: "It's the only way. Seilish brute that | ^ am, to think for an instant of myself j ^ hen Lawrence's life is at stake!" I * He was shown into the presence of a range-looking creature, attired in a j j:1 jrgeous teatuer oianuei, simng crosa- ; gged on the floor, smoking a long !05 pe?the Princess Kawara. Here we will leave him to accompany ! r( awrence, half an hour later, on the j mc road. After the painful parting | cith his sorrow-stricken mother and .S: Jtrothed, Lawrence's ride was cer- j .inly not an enviable one. Was it j ncy, or did he really feel the premoni-j ? iry symptoms of the bodily pain soon j c i rival the anguish of his mind? j r Again and again he swore mentally j ? tat no amount of torture should in- ! * uce him to consent to such an infam- , 5' is bargain; and with Claire's kisses j ill warm on his lips, he strode, with j * >wering brow and teeth set tight to , j! revent any utterance of pain to escape c im, into the small room where the ? rincess and Gerald awaited him. ? To his utter amazement, his friend arted eagerly forward with outretched hand and cheery smile, lough Lawrence thought he looked a ttle paler than usual. 441 wish you joy, old fellow. It's all J [ ranged; the princess resigns all inten- 1 ons to your hand, and promises to I1 ;nd you home to night out of ?*ny dan-1 *er." j | 44But I don't understand," gasped j jawrence, suspiciously, unable to ; j rasp this sudden change of fortune. | c Are you joking? Is there no trap s lid under this apparently most astoundjg piece of good luck P Tell me quick ^ -for God's sake what is the price I am s > pay for my life?" c "Nothing; you go scot free," an- ( peered Gerald, slowly, and with a j ;range gravity. "The princess will t ill you so herself." Thus appealed to, the unattractive ] ersonage, still squatting smoking on j ie floor, nodded her tawny head inifferently. x " Yes, yes. it is true. [ want nothing ( om you. I will cure you and you can { o and marry your whitf-skinned love t rhenyou please." , "Gerald, will you tell me how you ( ave managed to save me?" asked the / ourtg man, turning to his friend with I s lad eyes and a bounding henrt, in which j ] tiere was not a shade of doubt as to the , rincessjbeing able|to do a3>he promised, ( ?r the marvelous efficacy of the native j Uiueuies, 1U acuuiiuftlj r iwpv.iv^ V.wv?;, I J /as well known. i, "All in good time old feliow. Your ! j hysician is ready for you now; there I s no time to be lost." j, While Kawara silently and cart-fully | >ound on the wound in Lawrence's ] houlder a sort of poultice made princi- ] >ally of what resembled boiled tea eaves, the preparation of which she lad just completed on the young man's irrival, Gerald, with eyes fixed dreamlv nn t.hfi flnnr. rplansed into Slicll a ! jrown study as to throw a dim shade of j ipprehcnsion over eveti the intoxieat- | ingjoy which tilled Lawrence's soul at I liis unhoped-for deliverericc. " Would you mind waiting and coming around to my rooms this evening," 3aid Gerald, a little wearily, as his friend eagerly plied him with questions as they rode homeward. "No, thank you, I won't go home with you now. Your mother and Miss Claire can spare me, I fancy. Don't lock uneasy, old fellow; it is all right. I am quite happy." With this Lawrence was obliged to be content, and soon, with Cla re's arms around his neck, her happy tears falling on his breast, and his mother's overwhelming joy and thankfulness, all anxiety wa3 banish d from his mind. About two hours iafcir, Gerald was greeting him with an almost boisterous gaypty, talking incessantly of everything but the events of the day, and seeming entirely to forget the object of the visit, until Lawrence rather impatiently interrupted him in the midst Df the last hunting news: " You know v?ry well that I didn't come here to listen to all that bosh, G raid. Pernaps you will have the kindness to remember that I am waiting for inlormation which to me, at least, isof some importance." The only result of this petulance was 1 total silence, which contrasted oddly with Ge: aid's former volubility. He strolled over to the window, stood there :or a moment with his back toward lis friend, and returning, seated himself lear Lawrence, speaking very slowly ?nd gravely. * : would much rather have had nothing to say on this subject just now, i Lawrence, for you are almost sure to i >et wrong notions about it; but you (hitto mn nr* r?hrk?nn The for?t r?f thp . natter is. I have had the rascally meanioss to steal a march on you. I have ost my heart to your princess, and went mt courting her this afternoon decked 1 >ut in all my war-paint and feathnrs. | ' was before you, you see, and made ; he best use of my time; and the lady i ictually had the bad taste to find me i [uite as acceptable as yourself. In ] hort, she has promised to marry me i lext month. Hush ! it is really a very ine tiling for me. She is astonishingly J jood-looking for a Maori, has no end of i noney, and " i " And you think I am cowardly enough o permit such asacritice?" roared Law- , ence, springing to his feet; and then j lis voice broke. "Oh, Gerrv, Gerry! i ,nd you would do this for me?" I "Nonsense, old boy," exclaimed 1 ierald, in ratner nussy tones. i^an t ] ou see that you have nothing at all to < 10 in this affair? You made yjur ' hoice, and turned your back on the | irincess; how can anything I may do f fleet that? I knew you would take a i ilse view of the whole thing,!when it < 3 really the simplest matter in the < rorld. Do be reasonable. You know i am not in the least a lady's man?don't < are a bit more for one woman than an- j ther, and am not at ah likely ever to i -so, why on earth shouldn't this one ? uit me as well as any for a wife? Don't 1 e absurd, Lawrence. It was pure selsbness on my part. I thought only of 1 iyself, for I much prefer life with her c 3 life without you, old fellow, What j vould it all be worth to be without my t ne friend?" a And Gerald, his hand on his friend's ] liouider, gazed at him with eyes filled f rith a depth of affection, the intensity t f which Lawrence for the first time 1 illy realized, as he exclaimed, in a j mifled, unsteady voice: I ' Gerry, true friend, this can never i e!" c " Lawrence," came in tones of intense teling, "you saved my little sister's r fe. Can I be otherwise than grateful r >r an opportunity to do the same for t ouP" A silence more eloquent than words 11 upon the two men, who seemed to ave grown years older since the mornig X_! J) i^oiig aiier uis inuiiu ? uc^tuiuic, uci- ^ d sat motionless in the firelight, un- t inchingly looking his fate in the face g 3 he gazed into the dancing shadows. I . sorry vista it seemrd to open to him, z >r under his careless, indifferent ex- 1: :rior was hidden a wondeiful lund of >mance and sentiment, unsuspected by r is nearest friends. c He, too, had his dreams of the future, j rhich certainly this dark-skinrcd, un- f dy, unattractive woman, smoking j ross-legged in a hut, could not fill, but { ever for an instant did it occur to him ) regret the step lie had taken. It was levitable?and it was lor Lawrence. c The next day he was sorely discom- J osed by a visit from Mrs. Stanley, J laire and Lawrence; the former with eart almost too full for speech, while 1 le young lady clasped her pretty soft c ands over Gern' i s broad muscular 9 oe, and suddei;,/ stooping, electrified od brought our hero utterly to con- ^ ision by pressing her lips almost t jverently upon it, murmurinz t " Mr. Clitle, I think you are the best, ? lost unselfish man that ever lived! } Pill you forgive me for not having i nown it before?" i Poor Gerald looked helplessly about je room, until his glance fell upon ] awrence, when he gasped, apologeti- c illy: < " She doesn't mean it, you know, Law- c jnce." j " I should disown her if she didn't," r 1 t r 4.1? 41 IT rien ijawreuue, lervtiiuy. uu*? tw s lie or I ever show a tithe of our gratiude?" ' j "You can very much please me by . etting married immediately," respond- , d Gerald, with a sigh of relief as Claire ; eleased him. " Who knows, my princss might return to her first love, and have no notion of being jilted, I assure ; ou.:' So it was then and there arranged that be marriage should be solemnized the ! allowing week, which duly took place, 1 rerald of course officiating as best man, j nd being reduced to dire discomfiture >y the groom insisting that he should : ie the first to kiss the bride. mm m * m Almost simultaneously with the de >arture of Lawrence and (JIaire on tlieir tridal trip to the United States, a cessaion of hostilities between the English ,sd the Maoris was proclaimed, and Jerald had leisure an^ opportunity to ;o wooing on his own account, lor the tlaoris were not to break up tbeir camp or three weeks, and within that time tawara, somewhat reversing the order f things, insisted that her marriage hould take place. 11 was a dreary business, as the deep lespondency testified which seemed ettling upon Gerald, since Lawrence's lepaiture had removed all necessity for lissimulation. Harder even than he lad supposed he found it, and not even ,he altogether unexpected hindrance set n his way by the violent opposition of tawara's father to the marriage could end any ardor to his suit. The chief had given the tranquil and eaay assent wmen was a miutui ui :ourse where every whim of his idolized and only daughter was concerned, intil he heard Gerald's name, when, vithout any apparent reason, lie per?mp;orily ordered Kawara to forget her ancy for an Englishman, for Gerald should certainly never become her husband; but the princess remained unnoved at menaces, entreaties, threats of lisinheritance.etc., and calmly lollowed ler own inclinations, as she had done all :ier life, for the chief, who was the terror of his tribe, was the mere slave of [lis daughter. Gerald's visits were frequent, and des eratelv he tried to become interested in the uncongenial creature, with whom tiis life whs to be passed, and who, in tier*stolid, indifferent way, seemed to find daily mox-e pleasure in his society. She scrupulously observed all his directions as to dress, deportment, etc.; and Gerald sometimes marveled at a sort of innate refinement, which she revealed. But day by day his antipathy toward such a marriage increased, and the morninz before his wedding-day found him with a heart like lead and a face from which youth and hope seemed to have fled, but with never a thought of regret, riding slowly toward the Maori onnumnmpnf, To his surprise, instead of finding Kawara awaiting his arrival as usual, he was received by the chief himself, who had until then steadiiy refused to have anything whatever to do with his future son-in-law. An hour later could this be Gerald, with radiant face and shining eves, devouring the space which stretched between the encampment and Timaru , at a mad, breakneck pace, which certainly would speedily have brought to | grief b-.th horse and rider had not the K : ... ... .. - , distance happily been so short?an ex- J ceedingly rash expenditure of wind and muscles, as there was not the slightest need of haste, for in Gerald's bounding heart ioy and gladness were telling him merrily, gleefully, that the iron load . which haa been crashing all light and peace from his soul was at last lifted, j and he had all his life long for hope and ' happiness. ' "If Lawrence were only here," he 1 muttered, as he dashed up the stairs to ' his room, we should be afraid to say 1 how many steps at a time. "Dear old 1 chap, he will be almost as much delimited as I am!" j Miles away in California, Lawrence i received, two weeks later, the following 1 hastily-scrawled epistle, which was all I that was necessary to crown the happi- I ness of the newlv-wedded pair: "Deak old La.whence: Send your 1 condolences at once, my boy, or your ] congratulations, whichever you prefer, } for a capricious fate has stolen from me i a wife and given me a Wail a little; i I'm beginning at the end, like a woman, i But I'm altogether too worked up to be i coherent, In fact, I'd give all my old t boots if you were only here to tell me in the individual penning these lines is 1 really Gerald Cliffe, or was it some other t chap who rode over to the Maori camp c tins morning to pay a visit to uis iaay- i love, was received by her fierce and unippreciative paternal relative, and calmly informed that he might be off about c his business, it not being the custom in either savage or civilized society for a man to marry his sister? t 44 There, the murder is out, old boy! a A.rc your eyes well rolled up and every t liair standing properly on end? For true it is that Kawara is none other than my half sister, Alice, supposed to c oe drowned when two year3 old, but really stolen away by a Maori to gratify t some grudge asrainst my stepfather, t The chief of the tribe had no children, r ;ook a fancy to Alice, adopted her, and t jhe never knew until to-day that she is t lot really his child. The discovery ioesn't seem to aftect her much. I jffered to take her to her fatherjwho as irou know, lives in Auckland, but she <3 Icclines, saying that although she had S i fancy for an Englishman as ajhus- d mnd, she is quite satisfied with the t lecond father Providence has given f ler. s 411 feel a suspicion that you will be ii leartless enough to rejoice at my disiomtiture, but, being of an amiable dis- t )Osition, I lose no time in affording you ^ his unfriendly satisfaction. Verily, vonderlul are the ways of Providence, fortune has evidently doomed your i: riend to single blessedness, as well as r o continue still in your debt, old fel- d ow. Shall I never get even with you, ; wonder? My compliments to Sirs, ^awrence. I am sure of her sympathy s n this upsetting dispensation. Your t lefrauded friend, Gerald Clifke." t 44 And tha ; is the man I called com- J nonplace and auu," murmurea uiaire, c emorsefully, on two teardrops fell upon c he rather untidy-looking letter. r 1 r Ripe Old Age. * A vivandiere of the great Napoleon's i :rand army lives in Paris, aged ninetyhree. Maiame Fetter went with the r oldiers to Spain, Italy, Germany and lussia, and was at the battles of Leip- t ;ig, Wagram and Austerlitz. She has p lad a small pension since 1815. v The daughter of Mrs. Elizabeth Bow- 1 nan, who died at Corydon, Ind., re- E inr*fItt ?n Imr mdt.il voar. witnessed B nany encounters between the pioneer3 11 md the redskins, as her parents moved 8 nto the country ot the Shawnee Inlians when she was a little girl. 5 " Aunt Polly " Jerome, of New Lonlon, Conn., died recently, aged 103 rears. Her mental qualities were but ittle clouded; 'She was not afflicted vith deafness,"as people ot her age isually arc; was always cheerful and ontented, and enjoyed the companionhip of friends. ^ For eighty-six years Colonel Wm. \ >Vright has been a resident of Ken- c ucky, having resided in the colony hree years before it was admitted as a Jtate. He was a gallant soldier in the a var ol 1812, and laid down the harness c d the home of his nephew after a life of l linety-seven years. t In early womanhood Mrs. Levi, of e ^ancastor, Pa, was a slave. At the t :entennial celebration of her birth, re- J ? 1 1 T sentiy, 3uu persons, wmte aim uuiuicu, < sailed and offered their congratulations, i brass band cave the venerable woman a i serenade. She is very active and can I lee the smallest object. c Aberdeen, Scotland, lost a brilliant c awyer in the person of Charles Win- J jhester, just as he had entered his 100th c pear. He was probably the oldest advocate in the United Kingdom. He took i quiet I.ut effective interest in the progress and prosperity of Aberdeen, and * svas a classical scholar. ? For forty years a centenarian ex-sol- j lier, who recently died in a Russian vil- f. [age, wa3 stone blind. He continued ( his business of tailor up to the day of j bis death, threading his needle by f means of his tongue. His sense of touch ( was so acute that he could distinguish j the denominations ol banknotes with his fingers. At the sixtieth anniversary of the Bangor, (Me.,) Theological seminary, | held recently, Dr. Pend, president of ( the facuity, who is in his ninetieth year, | and has been connected with the semi- j nary since 1832, spoke in trembling j tones and with moistened eyes. He is ( still in fair health, but be'ieves this to | be the last anniversary he will witness. | When Mrs. Elizabeth Bowman, of 1 Corydon, Intl., departed this life she 1 was the oldest inhabitant of the State 1 She was a native of Pennsylvania, and ! reached the astonishing age ot 103 years. She was the mother of eleven 1 children, the grandmother of forty nine, ! the-great grandmother of 155, and the great-great-grandmother of thirty-three. The ninetieth birthday of the Rev. Staats Van Santvoord, 1). D., of NewBaltimore, was recently celebrated. He is well preserved, both physically and mentally. The doctor is the oldest living; alumnus of Union college, from which lie graduated more than fifty years ago. lie has a rich humor always at command, and saya he is " living on borrowed time." New Orleans has an old German woman, known as " Grossmutter" (grandmother/, who became a centenarian hist Christmas. Iler comical stories about old times in Germany create great merriment, and the neighbors (lock to her house to listen to them. She sews and reads without the aid of glasses. She had two husbands, and brought up sixteen children, only one of whom is a girl. A Western Wind, Mr. Ernest Ingersoll, in Jtn interesting An *'Thn AfntrnnnliQ rif t.llP ill tiv 1C Wit AUV ?>?W?vrw..v w Rocky Mountains" in Scribncr, says that, " in congratulating herself that Cheyenne has from one thousand five hundred to two thousand and more miles of wind a month 1han she, Denver asserts no strong claim to being a calm locality. A good motherly woman, hating frivolity, and camping to pleaee her children in the mouth of a canon, is what this dare-devil wind ioves above all things to meet with. It holds still till she has madp everything ready, and is just reaching out to set her frying-pan upon the nicely glowing coals; then? piff! and the embers are going over the top of thehilj, and the whole camp devotes itself for the rest of the evening in collecting scattered articles. There is a yarn about a miner who, being swift of foot, chased his vagrant fire and held his skillet over it as it traveled. When his bacon was done he found himself fifteen miles from camp. A PIECE OF ROMANCE. Huw a Young Lady from the South ai alTramp Madetliovc on Kentuoky^Noll Yesterday, says a recent issue of Little Rock (Ark.) paper, Mr. Robe Preston .and .wife, a couple who we happily united a few days ago, arrivf in this city en route for Texas. T1 Jtory ol their marriage is rather romantic one; not that it abounds : liair-breadth escapes, or of blord i large or small quantities, but thatwell that it is romantic. About four years ago Miss Emrr Boland, of Galveston, visited an aui in Warren county, Ky. It was summe ;he season was, and one .evening tl ;irl sat in the yard, half reading an Half regarding the enormous bumbli sees buzzing around. A Warren count aumble-bee will attract attention an; tvhere, He can make you think that! s tang] in himself in your hair, an< looking a un you see him ten ie< *way,clinging to a thistle-bloom. That ;nough about the bee. A. footstep didn irouse the young lady. It was a void ;hat said: "Can I get a drink of water J Two arms and the chin of a tram eaned on the fence. He was dressed i he tramps garb, a wardrobe at once s iescribable and indescribable. " I sa :an I get some water P" "Yes," said the girl. " Must I go round to the gate o :limb over tne fence ?' "Both, if you choose." " That's the way I like to hear peopl alk," said the tramp, climbing ove md approaching. " Now Where's th rater?" " I'll bring it." " You'd better bring the well, for I'i lyrer than a barrel of bromophyre." The girl went to the house and r< umed with a bucket of water. Whe he man had finished drinking she di tot think that he had exaggerated hi hirst. In fact, she did not think tha lis comparison had been adequate. " What book are you reading?" " Mill on the Floss." " Overrated. I never liked it. A] Iflnth nr nn dentil. I don't know which itrained characters or no character lon't know which. The novelist ha ried to write a story without a well de ined plot, and he has failed. Gold mith's success as a plotless and charm ng writer was a baa example." "You shouldn't tear my favorite boo! o pieces. I like George Eliot and he ro'rks." " You don't like Mill on the Floss fou have been nodding over it for th ast half hour. You only pretend t e.'.d it because you imagine that i: loing so you develop literary taste." "Ithink, sir, you are impudent." " But truthful. Here's a book yoi hould read," and the tramp took frot lis raeftcd coat a tattered copy of Bui on's Anatomy of Melancholy. "Di Johnson said that this book was th nly work that could induce him to ge mt of bed, mornings, sooner than hi egular time of rising." " And that's why you like it," r? narked the girl, taking the book. " ] )r. Johnson hadn't made that remar 'ou would not find the work so charm ag?" "That's all right. Give me som nore water." The conversation was pursued unt he tramn accepted an invitation to suj ter. His idea'of Button and Johnso ras soon covered up with butter cakes The tramp, Mr. Preston, remained a light. Next morning, when he ar tottnced his intention of leaving, the gil xscompanied him to the spot where eh at when he hailed her. "Why do you tramp around; ha* rou no home ?" " Yes, as to the home. Don't kno1 is to tramping." "Whisky?" " Whisky." " Why don't you quit?" " I will." "When?" "Now,on one condition. That yo vill consent to be my wife. Meet rr inder this tree four years from t< lay." -I will." " Good-bye," and he climbed the fen< Jid was gone. No correspondence wi airied on between them. The manl; mndsome face of the tramp hung befoi he girl like a picture. Deep, earne ves, a merry laugh, accompanied tl ramp. Several weeks ago the youc ady visited her aunt. One evening la veek she sat under a tree in the yar vhere tour years before she nodded ovi l book. Bees buzzed around?the san >ees, seemingly. On her lap lay " Mi >n the Floss;" near her a tattered cop if " Burton's Anatomy ot Melancholy, i buggy drove up. A man alighted ac Jim bed the fence. 44 Mr. Preston." " Miss Roland." There was no indication ot a tramp i he handsomely dressed gentleman. T1 :lear, earnest eyes showed no lurid ligl rindled by Satan's breath. Clasp( lands, kisses, renewal ot vows. Th tvening the bugey went to Bowlii Jreen. Next morning a happy coup eft on a southern bound train. Tli< ire now in this city, stopping at tl irand Central. To-morrow they wi eave for Texas. Walt Wliitmau on Seeing Niagara, For really seizing a great picture, < Dook, or piecs of music, orarchitectur )r grand scenery?or perhaps for tl limn oron flip mmninn sunshine, i andscape, or maybe the mystery dentity, most curious mystery of all Jiere comes now and then some lucl Ive minutes of a man's life, set amid fortuitous concurrence of circumstanct md bringing in a brief flash the culno nation of years of reading and trav ind thought. The present case abo two o'clock this afternoon gave n Niagara, its superb severity of ac-tic und color and majestic grouping (lil some colossal cluster of Greek s^atuar in one short, indescribable show. were very slowly crossing suspensi< bridge?not a lull stop anywhere, b next to it?the day clear, sunny, stil and I out on the platform. The fa were in plain view about a, mile off, b very distinct, ;.nd no roar?hardly murmur. The river, tumbling gre< and white, far below me; the dark, hii banks, the plentiful umbrage, mai bronze cedars, in shadow and temberii and arching all this immense matci ality, a clear sky overhead, with a fe white clouds, limpid, spiritual, siler Brief, and as quiet as brief, that pictur yet a remembrancj always afterward. Such are the things, indeed, I 1; away witli my life's rare and biess hits of hours, mostly reminiscent, pa ?the wild sea-storm I once saw o winter day off Fire Island?the eld Booth in Richard that famous nig forty years ago in the Old Bowery, < Alboni in the children's scene Norma, or night views. I remember, i the field after battles in Virginia? the peculiar sentiment of moonlight a: stars over the great plains, Weste Kansas?or snooting up Now York br with a stiff breeze and a eood yacht, < Navfi3ink. With these, I jny, I hem forth place that view that afterno< that combination complete, that fi minutes perfect absorption of Niagan not the great majestic gem alone by self, but set complete in sill its varii full, indispensible surroundings. ? L ter to Philadelphia Press. While plowing in a field, a boy St. James, Minn., was struck by lfg nine, and his hair and clothes wi partly burned off. lie was supposed be dead when found, but a physici took the body, laid it in a new plowed furrow, and covered it w fresh earth up to the neck. In half hour tho boy showed signs of life, s recovered. One of Barnum's Zulus has run av from the show. Show this to your w | if she wishes to venture out on a pici FA AM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. ,d The Codling Moth and Borer. The codling moth is an enemy not a readily overcome, and as its ravages in rt the apple orchard are very destructive, re prompt and persistent efforts are re'd quired for its suppression. The moth deposits its eggs in the eye ,? orcaJytofthe young apple. In a few in days they hatch and the worm burrowa in into the core of the fruit. It can be ? traced by the brownish powder which it casts out behind it. In about three ia weeks it attains it full size, and es'caping from the apple through a hole r, which it makes in one side, takes shelter in the scales of the bark of the tree or d other suitable place. e- The most effectual warfare may be J carried on while the enemy is in the 7- pupa or cocoon state 01 existence, &nu ie while in the injured fruit in the worm state. Scraping or cleaning the hark of the trees early in the spring prevents ,9 the hiding of cocoons in the crevices, t Placing bandages of old cloth, carpet or wrapping paper around the trunks and large branches of every tree as early as ( P the first of July, and examining this n band once a week throughout the sea- . 0 son, should also be resorted to in all J y localities visited by this pest. The , bands act as a trap, and the worms are , easily hunted out and killed. It is also j r imperative for the extermination of the , moth that all the wormy fruit that , drops to the ground should be dee stroyed before the worm inside escapes. ir When it is not convenient to turn hogs , e into the orchard these apples can be j gathered and fed to them. The borer is another troublesome a visitor in orchards. The beetle is striped i brown and white, and measures three!* fourths of an inch long. It deposits J & eggs during the months of June and i d July in the bark of the trees, near the s ground. Here the larva is hatched, be- f t coming a whitish grub, whicn saws iis j way into the tree, perforating it in all directions. i Similar preventives are resorted to U against the apple-tree borer and the ' peach-tree grub, i.e., placing a mound '? of ashes around the base of the trunk s in the spring and allowing it to remain ? " until ca fter the season in which the 1 " beetles deposit their eggs. Tfcisobsta- i " cle, it is believed, prevents them from i n/->fh hort nf t.hp flnrface of i . lcav/Uiug uuu ? ? ? k the ground. r T'ae most effective method of destroy- i , ing borers is to insert the end of a wire j into their burrows. In August or Sep- j e tember, according to the latitude, toe j 0 search after them is made. The earth t n is drawn away a little from the trunks ( of the trees and wherever a fine red < sawdust is disclosed,' a hole will be i J found with a grub inside. If the grub < u has bored into the tree only a short dis- j tance it may be dug out with an ordi- i nary pocket-knife. Otherwise it can i ? only be reauhed by thrusting a wire in!t to its burrow. i The r?e of Plaster on Land. j ?- Plaster gypsum, sulphate of lime, is a [t compound of about forty-two parts lime 1 k and fifty-eight of sulphuric acid. As 1 i- usuaiiy lound, witn every 100 parte 1 of plaster there are about twenty-five e parts of water?making a hydrate of sulphate of lime. When exposed to a 1 il wuite heat the water is driven off, and ?- the cvDSum, when ground, is known as ' n plaster of paris. j. Gypsum is one of the best known and 1 11 most used of the mineral manures. Its 1 i- virtues seem to have been known in rl ancient times, but it had not been used, te except in limited districts, by the moderns until about the middle of the re eighteenth century. At that time a German clergyman, named Mayer, acttv ing on information He had somehow received, commenced a series of experiments, which, upon being published, cal[ed much attention to the subject in varies countries. In our own, Kranfciu wrote about and practically demonstrated its effects. ODce introduced, it iu found many supporters, and the experiie ments made on soils to which It was >. peculiarly adapted were so satisfactory that its friends often claimed for it morethan it deserved, some going so ;c far as to assert that it could supply the ig place of every other fertilizer. Experiyt ence, however, soon showed that in itre self it had no fertilizing powers, that 3t any quantity applied to a barren soil ie cou Id not improve its condition, and ig that on e;ood soils only a few plants are st benefited by its presence. Its action d is almost entirely mechanical, and not er until its composition is changed is it of ie service. By absorbing ammoni whict ill it does with avidity whenever and >y wherever the two are brought in contact, whether in the compost heap, in id the moisture of the ground when plowed under, or from the rains and dews when spread on the surface, a sulphate of ammonia and carbonate of in lime are formed. Liebigestimated that ie a pound of gypsum converted into sullit phate of ammonia would introduco into ;d the soil a quantity of ammonia equivaat lent to fi,250 pounds of horses' urine, ig This may be extravagant, but the effects le of gypsum on crops for which it seems :y adapted is certainly the same as would ie be produced by the application of lime ill and ammonia. The only sure way to determine if plaster will be of service on any particular soil is to try it. If it be ad3r mitted, and we think there is no e doubt of it, that it is one of the best apje plications that can be made for clover, or lucern, and other crops of the same 0{ nature, when they are grown on proper _ soil, on others it would produce little Cy effect; and, again, on the same soil a where plaster would be beneficial to the !6) crops named, hoed crops would receive less benefit, and rye, wheat, and oats el verytlittle if any. Every farmer should ut institute a series of experiments on a ae small scale, and from tliPin judge if ir, is m valuable lor ins purposes, unu m imai ke experiments he must use judgment lest y) he in the end be deceived. Where it [q acts with great effect and rapidity, it is >n very oxhaustive to the soil; in that it ut seems to adapt everything in it to feed[]t ng the plants, and the application of [|3 plaster with nothing else, while enorut mous crops may be gathered for a year a or two, will teave tlic soil poor and un3n fertile. Consequently plaster should^be used as a stimulant to bring into action ay other manures and the natural forces of the soil, which will be at least partially <i- dormant without it. Its action is much w the same a3 is alcohol upon the human it. system, and should be kept under caref., 1 ' -- -'-I Wlmrn vriiixli fa fftVpTI from c; iUl CUIIUUX. VV Iibiv luuvn W the soil, much must be returned, ny There are, however, but few farms ed where some plaster cannot be used to ,st advantage, and if only used as an ab. ne sorbent of ammonia about stables, or to er be used in compost heaps, a littieshould ht always be kept on hand.?New York Sun Qr Curing Ilay. 'n There is a variety of opinions as to on the best method of curing hay. Some farnjcrs believe it should be spread thin ad and exposed to the sun and air several rn days; others, that two days is enough ty. and still others who believe that a few hours' si'n to dry the warer from the 'e" outside is sufficient. The objections to >n> curing it wholly in the sun are: First, if ve the stalks are large, the outside is dried t~ so hnrd that the moisture in the center of the stalk cannot get out until the hay 2t?, is packed in a mass, when by nooisten<& ing and softening the outside it comes to the surface and makes smoky hay; second, by drying rapidly in the sun of the leaves'are dried so hard that thev lit- break off and are lost; especially is this 2re the case with coarse clover. i to We have seen clover cured in the cock ian go nicely that all of the leave3 and jy- flowers were preserved so wall that all ith through the winter they looked almost an as fresh as when first cut, sending forth ind an odor reminding one of the new-mown fields. To cure hay well in the cock it should first have four or five hours o my hot sun and then kept in the cock durife, ing at least four days of good weather, lie. and the cocks made over once or twice; . c j.* " . * - . -M . the day it is to be housed the cocks should be turned oyer and spread a very little, simply to air it. Hay is improved very much by keeping it in the cock the second day, opening it and housing it the third. If it were not for the risk of having it out in a storm we should always prefer to have it stand the second day than to spread it and get it in the barn. Massachusetts Ploughman. Milk for Poultry. This is one of the verv best things to give either young or old fowls. Moot every breeder has tested its valuo and recommended it as a wholesome and nutritious diet, naturally adapted for young chicks and poultry. On every farm and in most all suburban homes milk is fed to pigs. This is one way to utilize it. But if farmers paid more attention to their poultry stock tban they do. they would find that they could turn it to better account by feeding it to their chicks and laying hens. i All Irinds of noultrv are fond of milk. Although they soon become satiated If fed exclusively on grain, animal, vegetable or insect food, they seldom re- ' fuse milk in any form?fresh or sour, it < makes no difference to them. Now a- i days milk enters largely into the bill of < fare for chicks and fowls. Fanciers have I found out that it contains properties < beneficial to their health and early de- i relopment. Almost the first food?and i with many the first after the yolk is t issimilated?its soothing and nutritive i effect is apparent, and if mixed with < stale breaa | crumbs or oatmeal cake i lothing is better. I Now for laying hens milk is nourish- ! :ng and induces laying. Where it can 1 je spared it is more valuable to the poultry stock than to any other. If ' Tarmers would give it a fair trial, and i ay aside the fogv notions of their an- 1 lestors and look at things in anew light, t ;hey would abandon the practice of f eeding their spare milk to pigs and ?ive it to a better paying stock.?Foul- t rv World. < - ( Only Half a Dollar. A big-boned Texan somewhat over ] M* fopt. hicli with an enormous broad- . srimmed Cat and a sweeping mustache eaching nearly to Ills shoulders, stood it the Laclede hotel office carelessly eximining the register. A Blight twitchng at his coat skirts was passed by unleeded, but a more vigorous pull caused aim to look around expecting to greet a oking friend or something of that sort. Be saw nothing and was turning back x) the register leaves again when his jlance fell upon such a wee mite of a , jirl, whose head was such a short distance from the floor that it was no wonicr he had not seen her. The wildooking facc bent down to the little one md a deep basi voice asked: " What is 1 t, little gal?" 1 "Please, mister, won't you buy my 1 Hatches?" came in weak, childish tones >o low that the words oould not have aeon understood h ad the appeal not been reinforced by the holding up of a box ot matches, the corners of the paper-box ill dog-eared and miserably soiled. The little figure was barefooted, ana : ;he one calico garment rent and faded md torn. " No; I don't want any to-day, sissy," 3aid the Texan. 'Please, mister, won't you buy my matches?" witn a fecona puu ai me coat. The man turned again, impatiently, and glanoed at the little one; then, as it ashamed, and with a furtive glance ; arouna to see if he was unobserved put a finger in his vest pocket, and the next : instant a bright half-dollar eleamed in the little grimy fingers. With a half : sigh the big-hearted fellow eaid, half to himself, " Poor little cuss." " Please, mifiter, don't you want the matches, and I hain't got no change*" 1 " Oh, the devil, no; keep the change and matches, too. Holding the precious coin in both hands the little match-giri vanished like a shadow through; the front door, and the Texan, with a muttered, "what a fool I am," followed. 4mnnH f.hfi nnrner and down Sixth street patted the little naked feet, unconscious that she was followed, and up one of the streets devoted to small dealers and a perfect nest of pawnshops. Into one of the least clean and imposing of these she darted and whispf.red something to the woman, who took a paper parcel out of a drawer and handed it to the child. The child tore off the paper with nervous fingers, and there was the sole treasure of her heart, her only possession -her doll. She hugged it to her breast and kissed it. What was said between woman and child could not be heard, but when the little waif laid the half-dollar on the counter the woman shook her head and pushed it back very far toward the child, as if her resolution might not hold out very steadfast. The child looked amazed but turned to go, hugging her dolly, and at the door stood the Texan with a very suspicious moisture upon his cheek and a big lump in his throat. "I've got a little girl like you at home," siid he. "Come along and show me where you live." Well, you may be sure that the sick mother and the little girl were rendered more comfortable, for an hour afterward she had a receipt for a month's rent in her hands and a doctor's carriage stood at the door of that tenement house. And such is the story that was told to the reporter by the big-hearted tv?iaaf nidi t left the Laclede JL C A (111 y TT U V iUWU hotel for his home upon the wide plains where range his broad-horned herds.? St. Louis Qlote. Rocfeaway's Mammoth Hotel. The greatest of all hotels, says the New York Sun, is the. new hotel at Rockaway beach, thirteen miles in a straight line from New York. The new Rockaway hotel is 1,180 feet long ?as long as the longest main building at the Centennial exhibition. It is four times as large as Madison Square earden, It is as long as seventy Fifth avenue houses. It will accommodate permanently 2,000 people,and give entertainment temporarily to 20,000 visitors. The building is six stories high from base to summit, with a promenade pavilion for 2,000 people on the roof. From this promenade the view is superb. In the distance the Brooklyn bridge stands up like the Arc ol Triumph in Paris. Coney Island to the westward, with Manhattan, the new Oriental, Brighton, and Cable's, looks like Venice from the sea. Sandy Hook rears itself from the ocean on the south, the Garden City cathedral pierce the sky on the north, and the Palisades on the Hudson and the distant Orange mountains in New Jersey stand against the sky beyond Prospect park in Brook ?-> i--". *..w? onn j lyn. urates anu lkuu iuw mc >u rooms, and fresh watsr comcs from eighteen wells. This hotel, like the hotel at Atlantic City, is to be kept open all the year round. There are 15,000 oorns. 1,000 of them fronting on the ocean. The house is built after the Queen Anne style of architecture. Two mile i of dado are made of California red wood. The piazza is seventy fest wide and 2,800 feet long. One dining-room will seat 6,000 people at one time. The hotel company made one purchase ot 10,000 chairs. This colossal building is erected on a narrow peninsula or strip of beach run~l?lro f!?nn (Ind. Illilg UUL 1JLIL.V LUC nav vm^/v ww?*> The building has its front and two ends on the ocean, and its rear on Jamaica bay. The hotel is almost entirely surrounded by water. The point of the beach jutting into the oceau beyond the hotel will be turned into a race course. The new tubular bridge, 1,200 feet in lep.?th,with its 2,000 gas jets, is near the hotel. It cost $l,^ttk000. It is safe to say that $3,000,0Wr^will have been spent on buildingi at Rockaway before the fall. Too Little To Do. I am always very sorry for those who have too little to ao, says a writer in an English magazine. They seem to me scarcely to nave a fair chance in the world. Their natures are not properly taxed and tested, trained and developed. They might have been among the great and wise and good and famous in the world, but they have fallen back into the ranks of the iqnavuM pectts Their liberation from the common cares and activities of lile, on which, perhaps, they prided and plumed themselves, is their drawback and their bane. It is even possible that it may help to kill them. A traveler who visited the Pitcairn islanders in their lonely Pacific home found some of them dying of sheer old age when between fifty and sixty. They nad too little to do. The rough fiber of life, for its due adjustment, needs a certain amount of work and worry?of working against the collar, of straining against wind and tide. One day two strangers met at a little inn in the Isle of Wight. One was a medical man; the other was a man of letters, whose avocations gave him incessant work, and called nim into all 3orts of places. I expect that the Bame iesire for repose had brought them through different paths to this same guict haven of rest. In the morning the special correspondent?so we had better designate him?lay languidly on the grass, plucking buttercups and daisies, md gazing languidly into the blue depths of the sky. Charles James Fox used to say that there was only one ihing better than lying on the grass with i book, and that was lying on the grass without a book. The medical man watched him. rhosc medical men often have a trick of matching everyone. Their fellow-crea:ures are their books, and they get into ;he habit of scanning such pages very iwiftlv. "Sir," said the medical man, "I thould think that you were rather fond >f lying on the grass and gathering laisies." "Sir," was the answer, 4*I have a passion for it. I should like nothing letter in life than to be on the ground ind pluck the daisies." 44 And yet, sir," was the rejoinder, 141 lave a strong idea that you are a man ivho goes about a great deal in the tvorld, and takes an interest in a great nany subjects." "I go about a great deal too much, md work a great deal more than I like, ff I had my ohoice in life, I should lie ill day on the grass and pick daises " 44 Do you know, sir, what would be ;he probable result of your having toe little to doP" 44 Well, what would it be?" 44 It would probably be an attack of saraljsis. To shut up work would n-nKaWir V?/? tn nlnaa UAiir oritt/inpfl " And practically this is a kind of thing which does not happen so infrequently is might be supposed. It is always a dangerous crisis for the professional nan who retires from the fall tide of oasiness without having learned the art }f cultivating and enjoying leisure. Men of the highest professional emilence have found themselves absolutely jtranded when they have passed from the condition of having too auch to that of having too little to do. One might her *11 tragic narratives of melancholydejpair and suicide. Huckleberry Picking. A recent issue of the Philadelphia Pre** says: The Moosic Highlands, which form a spur -of the Alleghanies, and cover a vast tract of country between Pitts ton and Havl?y, are just now black with huckleberries, and; attract numerous * huckleberry brigades," made up of women and children who wander barefooted along the mountainside during the day, and return to Scranton, Carbondale or Pittston, as the case may be, in the evening, carrying pail* ana buckets overflowing with the fruit, The berry-pickers, who go by hundred: to the mountains, manage to secure s ride on the gravity road of the Pennsylvania Coal company clinging to th( sides of the laden coal cars that ar< strung toaether bv the dozen, and in thif way women and children are whirkc away across the dizzy chasms anc through the deep cats that distinguisl this rugged landscape, until they fre quently hnd themselves as much a* twenty miies from home, trusting t< chance for a return ride. A " huckle berry " train is one of the picture3qu< sights of the gravity road. The womer and girls, with sunburned faces, clin< to the side rails of the coal cars witr one hand and hold their heaped pails o berries upon their heads with the other Frequently their calling is fraught witl Earil, but they become insured to it! ardships and learn to love its gypsy like character. They leave for th< mountains at the morning's first light and go in crowds of from twenty tc thirty. Tit-j greatest terror of begin uers in the business are the rattlesnakes which abound among the berry bushes. After a time, howover, they learn tc fight and vanquish the reptile, and it i: fHiniv fn hoor A rptprnT UU UUUULUIUUU vutuf, w juvvm. , berry-picker boast of the number of rat tlesnakes which she killed daring thi season. The violent storms that visi' the mountains at this season of the yeai are considered a source of threat dangei by the pickers. About four years ag< several women were killed by lightninj while takiLg temporary refuge in j mountain Bhed. Their pails were fillet with berries, and they were ready to re turn, when a fierce rain-storm came up Several women who were hastening to ward the structure saw the bolt by whicl their companions lost their lives, an< fled in terror to the town. Wagon were sent out for th? bodies, and tb occurrencc created a great sensation ii Sfranton. Some time ago, Superintend ent John B. Smith, of the Pennsylvanii Coal company, issued an order prohibit ingthe berrywomen from riding ove: the gravity road, and there was grea tribulation in consequence. The orde has been relaxed, however, and th " huckleberry train " is still an institu tion of the romantic route. The qualit; . . - . l?rn Ot Derriea 1111s seuauu is uuuduwj ? >.& and tine. It was feared some time agi that tli?: forest fires had swept the berr, bushes, but the region where they mos flourish was scarcely touched by th flames, and the recent rains have con cributed largely to the development c the crop.whicb promises to yield abund antly. Some enterprising womer whose husbands have been killed by ac cidenta in and about the mines, sup port large and feeble families by tii sale of their berries durine the huckU herry season. An Ossified Eye. A curious case of an ossified hum a eye has been made known a few daj since in Cincinatti. The patient was M W. fl. New, one of whose eyes was ii jured twenty-seven years ago by a pie of gun The missile entered tl eye-ball and produced a partial depriv tion of sight, which continued for number ofyears, and gradually grown worse until the sight w,.s complete gone. This caused a rympathetic derang ment of the other eye, whose vision i consequence was greatly impaired. T1 pain Irom the diseased eye during tl last six months became so intense it wi decided to remove it. The operati< was performed and a dissection of tl extracted globe revealed a comple ossification of the choroid coat. C tapping on the ossified part with a pe cil point, for instance, a sound is hea similar to that produced by conta with a slate or any other hard su stance. This is a rare case of the kin there being but one or two similar cas recorded in the surgical annals of tli country. Although paper collars have to freat extent gone out of use within t ast ten years, 200,000,000 of them a now manufactured annually. - Not Yet. 15s 1 The days glide by on wiDged feet, J A river floMr.g, bioad and fleet; I Thy lace Iron) mine is tnrned away, . It will not be so, dear, alway. Thy heart would fain its love forget. i It cannot yet, dear love, not yew. i I stand outside a fast-closed door,, ' Against me closed fore verm ore; Yet parts us neither bolt nor bar, Who are so near, and yet so far. Oh, heart that would its love forget! ' And cannot yet, dear love, not yet! I hear thy voice so soft and low, , And silent tears unbidden flow; While yet its music fills tho air, I pass and breathe a silent prayer. My heart would lain its love forget, And oannot yet, dtar love, not yet. One step?and I by thee could stand, k And touch thy dear familiar hand; One look?and I upon thy breast Would lean, and, weary, find my rest. Poor heart that lain would love forget, ; Alia cannot y?i, uou iuve, uuu jrou . , One word?and I again might raise ^ ' -"4 My face to thine, and meet tby guzc; And with do word thy heart ahoald read, * That lore is all a woman's need. ? Dear heart, wonld'stthoa thy lore forget ? ! ^ Thoa canst not yet, dear lore, not yet. ' % Ii e'er thy aoal hath need of mine, If e'er .the troth thoa canst dirin*, jj Seas will not part, nor bolt, nor bar, .* We shaU be near, who now are far. . * True hearts that fain would lore forgot, -'/-I And cannot yet, dear lore, not yet. . * , V-? v ?Bmton TrantcripL ITEMS OF INTEREST. What does the pupil of the eye stud// Morning milk is richer than that of vening. When a man draws an inference ffe 1 og should draw it mild. A green turtle is known by the date . * yfound on his back. When big trees begin to shoot It's JS about time for little bushes to leave. .* ' M A poor bookkeeper and a disagreeable * " aunt are alike in that they are no account-ante. ''' " Now is theacceptcd time" remarked '-Ma9 the young man when his girl told him she would have him. The Derrick tells of aaOil City man' ,-$?9 who has to turn his toes in. ff he didp't . they would hit the sides of the streets.. . ' 9j| The number of submarine cableteak $ - * ^ 2- ?XA Wa KflK i ". ,4?E present in Op^rnuoo jo saiu ui vc ?? with a cable length of 69,600 nautiotl miles. The total revenue from the bees ofthia * - Jj ' country, of which there are 2,000,000 hives, is estimated at $14,000,000 an* ".?i nually. Sparks lrom an unoiled reaping ma-' V M chine set fire to a great field of wheat ^ m in Illinois, and all the grain was destroyed. The chief use of a sea captain in these days is to explain how it all happened after most of the passenger^ have be& - , > drowned. About 30,000,000 shad have been - /. hatched at the hatching establishment of the American fish commission at Washington this year. A new shade for silk is called "lemon^ade color," whatever that may mean.:? K '?! 1 New Orleans Picayune. It me, ns a , heavy watered silk. Among the assets of a grocer who failed in Dusineas in a Wisconsin town - i is put down: "Une liver-pad, worn six- - >,? 'weeks?worth fifty cents." - ^ The men who pack the little boxes of figs have wonderful memories. They . never forget to put the wormy fruit at v ^| the bottom of the box. C:^| Doctors recommend people to eo to + : sleep lying on the right side. This is,; all the better if you are a little deaf, in the left ear and don't get homo till late. * "Only twenty!" "Yes," she explained, ? "George made me promise when we- .-.vr.J were married that I would never change. I was twenty then, and I mean- ? to keep my promise." From the speed of light, which -has ^ been measured, it fs proved that at lirast four hundred and fifty-one millions of ^ " millions of these minutes waves flow &W into the eye and dash against the retina r in each second. The rose slug, so destructive to bar rose bushes, may be destroyed by dust ing the plants, while wet with dew,'* * with air-slacked lime. Syringing the.* -'r-rt bushes with a strong solution of soap- " suds is also recommended. ; 5 ^ Th<> natives of the South Pacific - ' \ V ' islands are very fond of a small sea- * ' J worm about the size of vermicelli, which 3 they can obtain only at certain seasons. . even European residents are said to consider the " pabola " a rare relish. 3 Salt is recommended for hens which ? . y % t pull out and eat their feathers. Give, r twice a week, a littie salt pork chopped, " . r fine and mixed with the food; or put a *. * "4 > spoonful of salt in two quarts of meal* ' r moistened with water, and feed once or; : : > i twice a week. \ ===== Courting ill of Them. " "I don't want to make any trouble, ] but there is one man in lliis city who ought to be gibbeted!" began a blunt? spoken woman of forty-five as she stood ? before the officials of the Twentieth street station a day or two ago " When they inquired for particulars she handed out a letter aid said: " "Observe the envelope. The letter is F addressed to me. You will see that the ^ writer calls me his jessamine, and he ? wants me to set an early date for the I wedding." When tho captain had fihishe'l the ' I lpt.tpr she was ready with another/ ad ding: " .* ? . " And this is addressed to my daughi ter Lucretfa. You will see thatr he calls e her his rosy angel, and he says he csn't . live if she doesn't marry him. It's the v same man." : * So it was, and his letter was as tender - -,0 j as spring chi.ken. That finished, lie ,1 handed out a third, with the remark: . i'? ? "This is dirtcted to my daughter " Helen. It's the very same man, and in it he calln her his pansy and he says he ' dreams of her." * ^3$ * Why he seems to love the whol family," remarked the captain. n "That's just it. I'm a widow with rs two daughters, and he was courting us r. all at once and engaged to the three of a- us at the same time. On! What ce wretches there are in the world!" ie "Yes, indeed. It's lucky you found* a- him out." * . ^8 a "Yes, it is. If I hadn't he might ha?e :ig married the whole caboodle of us. If ]y Lueretia nadn't opened one of my let- % ft. ters and if I hadn't searched the girl's e- pockets while they were asleep we'd n have thought him an innocent lamb." ie "And do you want him arrested ?" " XT T hut T w. nt this le "INO, 1 gucaa uui, - .. . is niatter to go into the nape, s as a warnm ing to other women. Just think of his lie sitting up with me Sunday night, te Lucretia on Wednesday night, and )n Helen on Friday night, and eailin?each n- one of us his climbing rose! Oh, sir, rd the womea ought to know what a dect ceiving animal man is!" t" X C9| 11C 2J piCllj wvug*<> d. " It has learned me a lesson," she said (t as she was ready to go. "The next man u that comes sparking around ray house has got to come right out and say which he's after. If it's the girl's 1 a won't say nothing, and if it's me it he won't do 'em a Dit of good to slam ire things around and twit me of burying I two husbands!"?Detroit Free Press.