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7 ^ ' J " * * ? w ^ ? *'' y* jgffi ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER. 1 ___ '% "" : * BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WARDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29. 1880. NO. 17. VOLUME XXVI. \ '* yJ-%rff&mm . _ - : Autumn Leaves. lis now the hour when rays decline From withered leal and broken vine, When birds fly homeward lroin the hill, And leavos drop darkly on the sill. Oh, loaves, that vernal days recall, Why do you lall?why do you fall ? Across the wool of dnsk and shade The tawny elvos disport and fade; While whispers, swothod in love's command, Would lure me hence to fairy land. Oh, leaves, that dear old lriends recall, Why do yon lall?why do you fall ? The moaning winds bring thoughts to mo As lonely as the leafless tree; Like autumn leaves, my day is passed, And pathless night is overcnst. Oh, leaves, that life's proud hopes recall, Why do you fall?why do you fall? I know, alas!?now that I am old? To me the world is strange and cold, What 'ly-gone joys it will renew To ioin niv friends bevond the hlnp' Oh, leaves, that bosom friends recall, Why do you fall?why do you fall ? Come, silent death, and take your fee, For it is something to be tree? An element of sky and sea In all my soul's eternity. O, leaves, that dream9 of heaven recall, Why do you fall?why do you tall ? Oh, joys of youth and tears ot age, There never yet was priest or sage That could return without regret To 'where his youth and manhood met. Shrines on my head the dead leaves lall, And the winds whisper: " God is all." ? Hugh F. McDcrmotl. THE PROFESSOR. Professor Charmondic?that was his name?he was chiropodist; he traveled with articles, and he knew a little about three-card-monte. He came to the small New England town which we will call Swanbourgh? that is not its proper name, mind you. He put up at the old-fashionea hotel, the "Victor House," kept by the Widow Hockins. He was a foreigner, and, like all other foreigners, had seen better days. In nis own beloved land he was grand?a noble? with a retinue. .Now, I bad only a vagu? and indistinct idea of a retinue. I never saw one, but, by the way the professor spoke, it must be something nice. I wish I had one, and was a noble in my own country. I guess I would stay there, and not come . to a cold climate like this where retinues don't grow. I hinted this mildly to the professor, but he frowned darkly, and muttered something about political conspiracies, and I got lrightened and did not say any more. TUa professor was a Pole?I don't mean a clothes-pole, or a barber's polenothing of the sort?a Pole from Poland; he was a prince. Most Poles are Vrinces. Ho was tall and slender, with h fierce head of black ringlets, a snowy complexion and large black eyes. He ~ <w 4 l-? n rtwt n f XTowr Vai lr Wits UiC99V:U 111 LUC UAUCUi^ Vl Ait n x via taj !e, and he began to cast sweet looks at tlic landlady of the "Victor House." Mrs. Hockins was well worth looking at She was one of those round, plump, black- tyed red-eheeked little women, who look a3 if they were made to be widows and nothing else. She had been in that state ever since 1 he war. when Si Hockins died on the field of Gettysburg. She was a picture to please in her neat, tidy kitchen, where everything shone again with rubbing and soap. The floor was white; the big stove was as shiny as the professor's boots, and that was saying a creat deal. She had her little rocking-chair and her w< 1 k-table in tbe corner by the window, where her pots of flowers stood, and the Madura vine peeped in from outside to p.dmire the widow. And on washing and baking days what a pleasure it was to see her, with the sleeves of her dress rolled up above her dimpled elbows, ^lnnninr* !ntA tViO Cr?r?TTTT7 Hnllffh CiT trnth suds, as the case mieht be. Theie were no looking-glasses or pictures in that kitchen; the widow did not approve of them. She had no time t.? look at herself, and she guessed the girls had enough to do without looking at themselves. On the big stove sat a big t?*a kettle, so black, so buxom and so merry, that it might have been another widow. On Wednesdays and Saturdays the "Victor" was full to overflowing with fanners, for nowhere else could they get dinner or supper to please them. Then the widow was up to her eyes in business?yes, and liked it, too. She had to hear, all about "Marier's rumatiz" and "Sarah Ellen's intlammashon," and look at the hats and bonnets purchased for the coming Sunday at that bureau of French fashions? "Miss Smithcrs" down-street." The widow went through the whole of it with flying colors. She never Sfemed busy, was always ready for a chat, and vet every thine was in apple pie order and just as it ouzht to be. No wonder many burly farmers sighed when they gazed upon the widow, but sight d in vain. Only one adorer had k-r a time speraed likely to please the widow?Sam Nelson. He was a warm Iriond of her late husband; after his d ath lie had otten dropped in to talk about Si, and it bad grown customary for S.-m to look in and escort the widow to church Sunday evenings. Sam was a rhurch-momber and led the singing. Now. soon after the advent of the professor Sam gave up his hnbit. Sam did not like the professor. It was no use to deny it; he hated him with as strong a hatred as it was consistent for a churchni^mbir to indulge in?maybe a little stronger. It was no consolation for Sam, after a visit to the widow, to go home and dedare that the professor must be an ass to wear such tight, thin-soled boots. The professor was not ^an nss, and Sam knew it very well. Sam's feet were of the box-iron pattern, and looked coarse and plow-taily beside the professor's. TK/iw V?5o Ttroa a worm crinrrnr nnlrtr 1UCU UIO Uttll ntw ? ?? witM vvivi t and grew on the whiskbroom principle. Sam was disgusted with it. He made no his mind he would not go near the widow till that fellow was gone, and that Jeilow showed ro signs of going. What was the good of washing and combings himself evenings, "washing 9 and combing" being Swanbourgh for t he toilet performed by digibles at the close of the day. No! it was useless; there was the tumbling block with the snowy forehead, the diamond studs and the clust ering locks. Then the professor had a nasty way of doing all the talking, and if any one else said anything, looking at them as if he thought they must be a little crazy to take such a liberty. Sunday evening passed several times -? < o . Jll lllld way- Ofiiu ucgau lu ^uin t JIC opened his store with the calmness of dpspair. but his heart was in it no longer. He did not care whether his new and fashionable prints, at twenty cents a yard, took the fashionable eye of Swanbourgh or not; neither did he try to diSp^Bc of his prime Porto Rico sugar, at seven cents a pound, as of yore. Sam was a disappointed and gloomy man. Sunday evening came once more; Sam went alone to church, went early, in time to see the lamps lighted and smell the kerosene; he cared not, but took his seat. The church tilled rapidly; th< giris yith new hats sat to be admired, and fhe arirls with old hats whisperec and laughed, as much as to say they dc spised new hats, and would not have them if you asked them to. Sam lookec on; then the widow came in with th< Srofessor, and in the buttonhole ot hii >ng-tailed New York coat was a bios ?om off the widow's double-white pink which had been the apple ol her eye al winter. Ob, dear; Sam's swelling hear threatened to burst the buttons off hi vest. He heard the hymn given out and saw the widow find the place, an< give the Pole half the book, and louk U] at him and smile. Sam saw no more the service closed nt last; he went home drew off his boots, sat at the open win dow and thought. lie would leavi Swanbourgh!?go for a missionnry U the Pacilic islands. Yes, go forever!? perhaps to be eaten by the heathen aftei a very indifferent process of cooking. iSam thought of the|news being broughl back to this his native place, of the shock to the widow?would she shed one tear for him, whose smile she nevei more would seeP?for his eye, of whicb the light was quenched, alas! forever?? for his fond and faithful heart made into an uncultivated pie, to produce indescribable agonies of indigestion in the stomach of a heathen? Sam thought of the widow as she heard tho news and realized that his voice was still forever?his fond voice. At last she would know his worth. Alas! too late; but then it struck him that if it was too late for the widow, it would be rather late for him also, and after he went into the stomach of that painted chieftain he would find it the " bourne from whence no traveler returns." Alas! there was little consolation in the thousht even of the widow's grief, wild as Sam pictured it. What use for that form, so beautifully rounded, to be torn by emotion and agitated by sobs, when he would not be there to soothe her anguish? Why should those eyes, where lurking imps of mischief dwelt, be overflowed by tears when Sam would not be present in " the body " to dry them up. ****? ? The widow and the profe3sorsatalone in the dining-room of the Victor; they sat by the open window after evening service, just like Sam, only their boots were on, and they were not gloomily contemplating extirpation from their beloved home. Not at all; they sat by the window, and convenient to the elbow of each sat a glass of some cooling beverage, mixed by the cunning hand of the widow herself. "Emma, my love?cara mio!" said the professor? from which remark my reader may conclude he had made considerable progress in the widow's good graces, and was ahead of Sam a good many laps. " Emma, my queen! Art thou not my queen?"' The widow smiled and twisted the corner of her neck ribbon round her linger. "Emma, wilt thou always be content to dwell in this rude spot, admired only by rustics and boors, who i ***%? ? ? vmaam 1irr/iK)iaa^ Kn qj?1Knrv ^orlr gaiU it Uit'OiU iivcxiuvuu vj owtAug UMia sujrar and a very inferior brand of tea? Art tbou content?" The widow had never viewed things in this way before. She was content. She began to feel a little ashamed of herself for it. She coughed and did not answer. " Come with me, my dark-eyed bride; I will bear thee away to my native land, where thy sweet smiles shall gladden the hearta'of princes and nobles?where thou shalt reign a very queen." This was splendid; the widow liked it very much. "Sell, my darling?chere amie?this low tavern, and go with me to thy proper sphere, where thou shalt mix with nobles and princes, and shine before courts." It was nice to think of shining before courts, also reigning a "very queen;" but selling the "Victor" was another tiling. Emma did not relish the thought ?the "Victor," that poor Si had worked so hard for, that they had toiled for together for many years, and ali tho oldfashioned beds, with patchwork quilt " irtoHo urifrh r?lH tuavj muiuvi uimtv, If 1VU ?vw? v?v? sewing that no one knows anything about in these days. "Sell the 'Victor '?no!" The widow was mad. If keeping a public-house was low?well, she always kept a public-house. Selling cornplasters wasn't high, neither babies' patent feeding-bottles and things for keeping their food warm, nutmeg-graters and washes for the complexion. What did he mean? The widow bade him good-night somewhat abruptly, and went to bed, not to sleep, but to think things over. The next day the professor left early in a top buggy, packed with cornplasters, patent mouse-traps anct feeding-bottles, a'id other articles too numerous to mention; he knew somehow that Emma would prefer his room to his company. It was washing day, and maybe the widow's temper "might have been a little tlion ?t xxraa that-, mnrninff lyju^L U??<*4A IV OStanislas left early. He Lad begged the widow to call him so, and she did it with a gulp?at the high-sounding title. She worked hard all day. and in the afternoon, when the fruit of her labor hung in the sunshine, she sat down and made up ber mind. " I'll tend round lor Sam?yes, I wil' ?and hear what he has got to say about it. Yes, indeed, Sam's a good fellowsuch a friend of poor Si's?and I know he'll give me good advice. He's a church-member, and what a deajl poor mother thought of him, to be sure." Sam came round and heard the story. What a position for a man to be inasked his advice on such a subject. When the widow paused in her story Sam sat for some time in profound silence. then burst out: "Well. Mrs. Hockins. I can't say a word. Maybe I'm risht, and maybe I'm wiong; but don't sell the 'Victor' that poor Si Ilockins worked so hard for ? don't sell the 'Victor' and marry that fellow,' for I?believe?he's?a swindler!" The widow stared at Sam in openmouthed amazement; but it was out, and, wi*h as he might, Sam could not get it in again. In fact, on the whole, lie did n .>t care; it was better to tell bis real opinion, if he died for it. Whrn tbj professor cume home the door was opened by the help, who told him that Mrs. Hockins had retired for the night. lie was in a good humor, having sold a great many bottles of his mixture for killing the potato-buz and making the mustacne grow; but he had to retire without seeing his Emma, which was very hard. Next morning the widow rose early and dressed her3ell nnidly. Her cheeks were llushed and her eyes were brighter than usual, while her movements were quick, not to say snappish. She was in the dining-room when the professor came down from his room, humming an air, and looked up from the breakfast-tray, with a short nod. "Good-morning, ma chere"?that was French, and he got it out of the back of a small red dictionary, with little engravings. "Good-morning!" said ;the widow throwing into her voice the chilling influence of two good-sized icebergs. The professor drew near and tried tc steal a kiss, but Emma dodged it. " What is the matter, my angel?" in> quired the Pole. "Uti, nothing!?nothing much. iv,a | your breakfast, and when you go through I'll have a littletalkiwith you.' The professor obeyed, but a darl scowl sat on his lolty brow. lie did no look so amiable by many degrees as be fore. Breakfast progressed slowly, and jus i as it was drawing to a close Nellie, th i hired girl, rushed into the room witl 1 open mouth and face ashy pale witl > terror. : "Oh, Miss Hockins! Oh, my! Tw . perlecemen is c >ming up the yard 1 Oh!" The professor looked wildly rounc ? and tried to rush past the widow to e( I upstairs, but he was toe late; the off j cers were in the room 3 "Ha! ha! my boy!" said the olde: - of the two. "Ha! ha!" and he caugt , the Polish prince by the arm. 1 "What's the matterP" gasped tt widow. . - * >. ? - ' , r r ^L- . - ' ' . . ' t " Nothing's the matter now we've got s this bird, ma'am; don't be the least bit , frightened; he can't get away. Ned, the 1 bracelets! Don't Irighten the lady, 3 Jerry; that escape of yours was smart ; ?very smart?but you always are such , a highflyer we can trace you so easy." " He said he was a pro-fees-or," said i the widow. ) "So he is, bles9 you, ma'am," re turned the officer, with a chuckle. " He r is a professor of bank-notes; he is a mighty smart fellow, too?just got away t from State prison three week ago. Why i didn't you run to Canada, Jerry? Why i were you so stupid, man ?" ******* i They removed the professor, and the widow felt about as mean as it is possi! ble for a clever and pretty widow to . feel. ! "How I shall be laughed at! Oh, dear, what a fool I have made of my! self!" i At length it struck her the only person in Swanbourgh who knew anything about it was Sam Nelson. She would send f >r Sam, and beg him to be silent. She knew Sam would never betray her confidence. She sent for S^m. lie came, and promised to be silent on " certain conditions. Sain, junior, is now old enough to walK about and knock his gin^ercolored head to all the tables and chairs. Mrs. Hockin's name is Nelson. She is as plump and merry as ever, and if she ever gets a little cross, the new landlord of the Victor house has only to inquire: "Em, do you remember the professor?" A Canine Cat-Killer. To 11'in rr ohniif ^nrra " aoiH a of Columbia avenue the other evening, as he patted a large bloodhound onthe head, " that is a wonderful beast. Yes, sir; just as knowing as a human being." The reporter became interested, and getting within a safe distance of the formidable looking member of the canine tribp, timidly remarked that he would like to hear the story. "Well," continued the owner of the dog, " that beast's special mission in this world seems to be the annihilation of cats. He has a great dislike for the feline specie oi the animal kingdom, and never misses an opportunity to extinguish the life of any ' Tom' or 4 Tabby ' that happens to stray across his path. A regular butcher, I assure you. How long have I had him? Well, about five years, and in that time he has given me lots of trouble. 1 used to live downtown, but that dog necessitated my removal to another neighborhoad on account of his wholesale slaughter of cats. Fact, I assure you. Why, do you know, sir, that he used to kill on an average of three cats a day. Siems to have had some way of luring the poor creatures to him. A singular fact is that no matter whnf/i V?<* IriTlo/^ a nnf Kn Krihff the carcass home and lay it in the yard and of course I had to bury it. Why, I've attended as high as five cat funerals in a day?took'em away and planted 'era on the lot. A remarkable dog, sir. One time the thine got so bad that I sent him away to my brother, who lives about ten miles from here, but when I awoke the next morning I found the dog lying outside of the gate with a dead cat in his mouth. It was a strange cat ?probably killed it up near my brother's place and brought it down for me to bury. Seems to have got an idea in his head that I took a pleasure in lugging dead cats off to the lot. It was a regular thing for me to bury a cat every ^moraine before I left home, and when I returned to dinner my children would meet me on the street and yell out, 4 Pap, there's another cat dead.' I tell you it was errible. When I would arrive home in the evening my wife would greet me with, 'B ib has another cat in the yard.' Life became unendurable, but I couldn't part with my dog. Then I moved up here. It was a good place for cats, and Bob began his work. Shortly after my arrival here the felines began disappeaiing so rapidly and in such numbers that the neighbors suspected that some one had started a fiddle-strine manufactory in the neighborhood. Maybe you think I'm going if a lift-lo trt/1 cfrnnor Vint. I'm nrilv tpll. ing the truth. He^ got a reputation, that dog has. Do ycu see that collar around his neck? It is a little dark here to read it, that's true; but I recollect the inscription: "' Presented to Bob by grateful friends iora merciful deliverance from the cat nuisance.' " That was given to him by boarders down-town. Yet there are some people who can't appreciate the service that dog has done humanity. I told you that he had a great dislike for all cats, but I was wrong. There's a 4 tabby' that lives next door to me that Bob has ta>en quite a fancy to. I've seen that cat come over th?< fence into my yard and walk around just as unconcerned a9 if there was no dog around. One afternoon I watched Bob and puss from my window, and actually saw the cat bring a piece of meat and drop it down in front of Bob, who ate it with a look of gratej fulness in his eyes. 4 Tabby' remained near the dog for some time, and directly I T n Iiutt onorrnttt nliffhf. on th A ill/blVUU a bill J gpmtviT wu vMW ] eround and begin picking up crumbs Then there was a spring, a squeak and ' tabby ' disappeared over the fence with the bird in her mouth. It seemed to be u favorite spot for the wabblers to bask in the sun and picK crumbs, and I came to the conclusion ttiat there was an agreement between the dog and cat that if she brought him choice bits of food he would permit her to catch birds. But it's getting late and I'd better trot Dome," and the old man left, followed by his big pet ?Philadelphia Press. Coffee Culture In the United States. Commissioner Le Due has convinced himself that coffee can be raised in Florida. A letter has been published in the New York Ecanqelist, written from Savasota, Fla., by M. C. E. Abel, in which he says lie has watched the growth of the coffee tree with much interest. He had sent to Comrussioner Le Due several blossoms, ana ~vJ exhibited brauches broken from the tree heavily laden with coffee bean3. This I..I An K? o SUCCe.HSIUl I'UUlli wns UlilUb u) u muj, and Mr. Abel sa,ys her coffee trees now bear a crop of maturing fruit, and are literally loaded with blossoms and the i young fruit of another crop. The gentleman adds the remark, which will not i be disputed, that " there are many places on this coast where the same pluck, ; energy and industry exhibited by this ! lady will not only make coffee-raising a success, but many others of the delicious semi-tropical fruits." There is , no reason why coffee should not flour ish in Florida and in portions ot Texas as well as in Arabia, the West Indies and some of the Pacific islands, where the conditions are more favorable for its growth than in some places in this country. It thrives wherever lrostdoes t not blight and where the soil is not ext irpmpl? rprpntivo. of rain. In Ama " zonian regions, wliere the soil and cli? mate are not dissimilar to those of t Florida and portions of Texas, witli - moderate care a coffee plantation will yield two crops annually. In fact, the t best coffee of commerce, that grown in e Arabia, is raised from soil bearing j li close resemblance to much of that of the h peninsula of Florida. The experienct of the enterprising Floridian lady shows o a result equal to any attained in Arabh I. in the Mocha plantations, she having, ir less than two years, succeeded in secur I, ing blooming trees from the seed. Wit! :t this experience there is but little doub i- that, wi'/h the exercise of characterist.il American energy in experimental enter Jt prise, the coffee plant in the near futur it may be seen in certain regions of thi country, as in the province of Para le growing in almost every roadside thicke i or waste.?Galveston News. ' Absiuthe. ; It is now nearly a century since a ! French refugee named Ordinaire settled in the sniali village of Couvet, in the 1 Val Travers.in the canton of Neuchatel 1 Switzerland. Dr. Ordinaire was a 1 medical man, and a very clever one for the time in which he lived, and he soon : made himself useful to the people of the j Val Travers, among whom doctors and 1 medicine had hitherto been almost un- j known. The doctor prepared his own | medicines, as was not unusual in those days; and though he seems to have been j a regularly qualified practitioner, it is evident he had not that contempt for panaceas which is usually to be met with in the profession. Indeed, there was one universal remedy which he held in high esteem, and compounded with his own hands from various aromatic ! herbs, after a secret recipe known only j to nimseii. xins went Dy uie name 01 4 Extract of Wormwood," and as many ( persons declared that it had completely 6 cured them, the doctor naturally pre- , scribed and recommended it to others, j Before his death he gave the recipe to j his servant, "Mamsell Grandpierre," and ] she sold it to the daughters ol Lieutenant ] Henriod, who grew the necessary plants i and herbs in their own garden, distilled : the elixir over the kitchen fire, and sold J it to peddlers. Since that time the manufacture has increased in other hands, j until the quantity of absinthe now made : in the Val Travers amounts to 81,400 * gallons annually. * It is from the yellow flowers of the ; common wormwood, Artemisia absyn- J thium. that the tinctures and extracts of the Val Travers are made; and these ? are said to be very efficacious in cases of | ^ indigestion, though the remedy would lr sceiu at best to be but a dangerous one. * If this were all, however ."there would j not be much to say upon the subject .it is when, by the admixture of other aro- * matic ingredients, the extract is con- 1 verted into the famous, or rather in- ? famous, absinthe liquor, that it is con- f sumed in large quantities, and becomes J"1 of really terrible importance. In what its peculiar charm consists scientific ' men have striveu in vain to discover: but that it does possess a deadly and well-nigh irresistible power of fascina- ? tion is only too evident from the large P quantities sold in France, Germany, P Switzerland, England, and North P America, notwithstanding the perni- " cious effects it is well known to pro- r duce. *: The habitual U3e of the poison, like 2: that of opium, affects the whole nervous system in general, and the brain in particular; it produces actual organie j changes in the delicate net-work of the j; brain, and these are, of course, accompanied by corresponding derangement of all the mental powers. ^ The end of the habitual absinthe drinker is as terrible asjil is sure and in- . evitable. He bpcomes at first brutalized, ri dull and obtuse, then he goes raving j: mad, and finally is either partially or entirely paralyzed, unless disease ot the f liver or stomach puts a more speedy end jD to his existence. The liquor is the _( mout seductive and dangerous because & at first it seems to invigorate the diges- w ive organs, while in reality it is doing them nothing but harm. " Until the ie very day when he is seized with illnes3," m says Dr. Dehant, " the victim seems to j.: be in unusually good health; but the se first time he is subjected to a medical examination it is found that his whole system is deranged. Nothing is more ifttilc th n f.art an absinthe drinker, for his first illness is usually li] Iso hi* In;, ail h terminated by ti< death." w Great efforts are now being made in be France and Switzerland to check the to practice of absinthe drinking, which is to unhappily largely on the increase. A From the various statistics published in from time to time we gather that Fi wherea3 in the year 1864, out of a hun- fo dred cases of insanity or idiotcy, fourteen D were traceable to dram drinking, tin m percentage has since risen to twentyfive; and four-fifths of the cases of in- ni sanitv occurring amone officers may be ol put down to the use of absinthe. It i's 17 moreover, an established fact that the ai children of absinthe drinkers are gener- di ally born with tendencies to some of the ee worst forms of disease, such as epilepsy, tt etc. The most effectual way of meeting ai the evil would be by prohibiting the m c 1-Am fV?ia 15 miinuiacLuru ui me nquur, uuu oo uaio is impracticable, all that can be done is c( to point out the fatal danger of absinthe di drinking, and to urc;e those who are not w yet utterly enslaved to save themselves ci by gradually diminishing their accus- a tomed potion. In u month they will w become reconciled to taking only half b their usual quantity; in three months, ai if they persevere, the victory will be ci won. They will find their confessedly tl difficult task easier if they take a cud of c< coffee in place of the absinthe.?Ear- fi per's Bazar. 11 " t< Borrowing. j, There are some people to whom bor- a rowing seems as natural as breathing; ii who mis;ht also be said to make a pro- t' fession of it; who appear to have a e: decided preference for the goods with I which the gods provide others; who are e never so well satisfied as when using the tools of another; who feel more secure b from the assaults of the weather under ii another's umbrella, better mounted on a b friend's horse, better dressed in another's ii . "tKa tttr\i11A onnnnr* KorrAW a t, 11UCI J . YT1I\J nuum ouvubi i/wftAvo ? . book than read their own; who might | naturally be supposed to hanker after 1: another man's shoes. It does not by any I means follow that the ready borrower r is always the willing lender. Farmer c Roughenough may have used hia neigh- i bor's harness as long as it would bold t together, but if it is hinted that t he should make a return with his new f plow, he begins to feel as if some im- t position were being practiced upon him; t for the first time in his life, perhaps, he t begins to look through the spectacles of I the lender. There is the person who 1 borrows of you in order to be on inti- a mate ters; the one who borrows only to oblige, not to fesm pnperior to his * his neighbors; he who borrows car ' tickets and postage stamps?things too 1 I trifling to make an impression on his J robust intellect; who damages what- ' ever is lent him, and pays no attention 1 to the fact; who will brine your horse home lamed, as if that were the normal condition of horses, return your umbrella with dislocated ribs, your books ? with finger-prints and pencil-marks. ] The borrower has usually a bad mem- < ory and a worse conscience; the fact ot i his being obliged to borrow at 1 all a'ises generally from improvi- ] dence, a lack of forethought, or ' an abuse of his own property; i and he who takes no care of his own i will hardly be scrupulous in the care of another's. In the mean time we encounter not only those who borrow your personal effects and your household Penates, but your opinions, your witticisms, which they kindly pass off as their own; who " never think of thinking for themselves at all," since it is ? * J - _* ttlOUglllS, Wltu me naviinuigt; ui nut uc ng expected lo return them. Doubtless the borrower was sent into the 1 world to discipline those whom his 1 tricks and ways irritate', and it is barely ! possible that if the soul of the ?ood 1 housekeeper were not wrung at times by 1 the temporary surrender of some posses: sion into heeoless hands, she might also 5 be found among the number of those 3 who piece out their own negligence and 1 wastefulness by taking advantage of the 1 better management of their friends.? " harpers Bazar. t It's well enoueh for the poets to sing b of the philosophers and scholars who - draw wisdom from the stars, but if the c poet wants a theme worthy of his pen, 3 just let him watch the young man who , can stand on the corner and suck wist dom out of an ivory-headed cane.? Burfawlon Hawkey t. The Secretary of the Smithsonian In stitnto. A writer in the Washington Republic. gives the foliowing interesting sketch ol Spencer F. Baird, Secretary of th( Smithsonian Institute: Professor Baird is a tremendous worker. Probably nc man in Washington works harder. H< keeps two or three stenographers, and (or four hours in the morning he dictates reports, letters, instructions, and scientific articles. His correspondence is very large. The institution has its igents in every part of the world, and the foreign correspondence i3 very lieavy. The work of the Professor can be done by nobody else. Professor Baird's hobby, next to fish and birds, is jlectric be]1and burglar alarms. His innoo ifl nlyiincr full t\f Tiriroa uriH hqf. ;eries. Every window and every door n the house has its special wire and jurglar alarm, and it is said that one jannotmove about the house without letting a dozen bells a-ring;ng. The building for the new National Museum, an immense structure, coverng over two and a half acres of land, low being built on the grounds of the Institution, is under the supervision of Professor Baird, General Sherman and Peter Parker, but it is easily to be seen ;hat Professor Baird is having his own way in the premises, for the wires are joing in by the hundreds in every part )f the great structure. There are to be >ver a hundred rooms for experiments md preparing articles for exhibition, >fr? tn aaTr rAtKinrrnf f-ho nn*o y-t H ovhi hi. hVlj bW Wl*J uutuiug Ui bUV glUUU bAIJli/i ion rooms. All are to be spidervebbed with electric wires. I believe :very case for snakes, stuffed birds, an vhat-not, is to have an alarm, so that tobody can steal the snakes, etc. This nuseum, by the way, will be a great hing for Washington. It will be the argest in the country, and the most raried and interesting in its character. year hence it will be the most intersting place to visit in Washington, 'rofessor Baird, in addition to his elecric machines, has an anemometer on lie top of his house to register the rind. A rod from the top connects rith a dial in the basement Professor Baird has been, and is yet, great walker. In all the expeditions e has made he has never ridden a orse. He always goes afooj from the ase of supplies, and has often walked m or twelve hours a day- His endurnce is a matter of envy to all who now him. He can do more work rith less fatigue than any man whoever rent with him. With age he is growlg stout, and can't weigh less than 20. He looks like a larmer walking bout the streets with his gray clothes ad slouch hat. He scuffs along without 1 1 .. 1 11 ? U oucing auyuuuy, anu waina as uiuugu le weight of bis brains pulled his head ad shoulders down. He has great lagnetism, and the people about the istitulion are strongly attached to him. is habits are simple. He goes out to inners and receptions half a dozen mes during the season. He retires irly and rises early. He is temperate i his eating and drinking. He never )es to a theater, a concert, or a lecture, e says that in the first place he don't ant to go. and that in the second place } knows he would go to sleep. AU the isure time he has (little it is, believe e!) he employs in novel reading, and ,s favorite paper, strange as it may em, is the New York Ledger. History of Zero. " Zero " on the common thermometor, ie the fanciful name3 of the constellaDns, is a cu.ious instance of the way ise men's errors are made immortal by icoming popular.lt may be worth while say that the word itself (zero) comes us through the Spanisn from the rabic, and means empty, hence, nothg. In expressions like " 90 degrees ibr," the abbreviation, Fahr, stands r Fahrenheit, a Prussian merchant of ant.zic, on the Baltic sea. His full ime was Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit. From a boy he was a close observer oi iture, and when only nineteen years d, in the remarkable cold winter of '09, he experimented by putting snow xd salt together and noticed that it proiced a degree of cold equal to the coldit day of the year. And that day was le coldest day that the oldest inhabitlt .could remember. Gabriel was the iore struck with the coincidence of his ttle scientific discovery, and hastily included that he had found the lowest ?gree of temperature known in the orld, either natural or artificial. He llled the degree zero, and constructed thermometer, or rude weather-glass, rith a scale graduatine up from zero to Diling point, which He numbered 212, ad the freezing point thirty-two?beluse, as he thought, mercury contracted le thirty-second of its volume on being x)led down from the temperature of eezing water to zero; and expanded 30th on being heated from the freezing > the boiling point. Time showed that this arrangement istead of being truly scientific, was as rbitrary as the division of the Bible lto verses and chapters, and that these wo points no more represented the real xtremes of temperature than "from )an to Beersheba " expressed the exact xtremes of Palestine. But Fahrenheit's thermometer had een widely adopted with its inconvensnt scale; and none thought of any etter until his name became an authorty, for Fahrenheit finally abandoned raae ana gave iiimseu up iu auu iiuu. The three countries which useFahrenteit are England, Holland and America, tussiaand Germany use Raumer'stheraometer, in which the boiling point is ounted eighty degrees above the freezng point. France uses the centigrade aermometer, so called because it marks he boiling point one hundred degrees rom freezing point. . On many accounts he centigrade system is the best, and he triumph of convenience wili be atained when zero is made the freezing >oint, and when the boiling point is put 00 or 1,000 degrees from it, and all the mb-divisions are iixed decimally. If Fahrenheit had done this at firdt, or sven if he had made it one of his many inprovements, after the public adopted lis error, the luck of opportunity, which vas really his, would have secured to lis invention the patronage of the Yorld. The Prime of Life. Between the ages of forty-five and sixty a man who has properly regulated liimself may be considered in the prime if life. His matured strength of constitution renders him almost impervious to an attack of disease, and experience has given soundness to his judgment. His mind is resoiute, 11 rm and equal: .. , f i-. i.: fill IllS iunuiiuua OIC 111 tilt uiguroi order; he assumes mastery over his business; builds up a competence on the foundation lie has laid in early man hood, and passes through a period of lift attended by many gratifications. Havim gone a year or two over sixty, he i.rrive! at a standstill. But athwart this is th< viaduct called the turn of life, which, i crossed in safety, leads to the valley o "old age," round which the rivei winds, and then beyond, without boa ~~ """""'irn,! <"> oftopf. Ins nnssnirp. Till UI t'ltuau nr u,y , IV v.**~ww ?.w 0? bridge is, however, constructed o fragile material, and it depends how i is trodden whether it bend or break Gout or apoplexy are aiso in the vicinit; to waylay the traveler and thrust hiri from the pass; but let him gird up hi loins and provide himself with a fitte staff, and he may trudge on in safet; and with perfect composure. To qui metaphor, " the turn of life" is a tun either into a prolonged v> alk or into th grave. The system and powers bavin, reached the utmost expansion, now be gin either to close like a flower at sunsc or break down at on^e. One inju dicious stimulant, a single fatal excitc ment, may force it bejond its strengtl while a careful supniy of props and th withdrawal of all that tends to force plant will sustain it in beauty and vlgo until night has entirely set in. THE THIRST DANCE. DIlsnidDE Ceremonies by Which th< f Indians Drive Away Evil Demons. 3 A correspondent in the Northwe3l 1 writes: On a beautiful spot on the > banks of the Battle river, commanding > a magnificent view of the fertile valley [ of the Saskatchewan, the Indians oi i this section held their great "thirst feast" last week. Parties of Assiniboines, i Crees nnd Sioux have been encamped I there for several weeks, making preparal tions for the festival, which is partly of a penitential and partly of a propitiate ry, i character, the peculiarity of the cere monial being that the dancers must not i eat, drink or sleep until it is over?a i length of time varying from two to four . days. On this occasion it was only for two days. In order to fully carry out the festival ! it whs necessary to erect a temple, , and this was effected with the ceremonies usual to savage sprees of this description. As the first duty was to procure a center-pole, between forty and fifty warriors, each on horseback with his squaw behind him, set out for the woods in search of one. Preceding them was the medicine man in a ragged United States militiry coat, probably brought from one of the posts south of the line, his head ornamented with a mass oi porcupine BKin ana swan ieatuers. He curried in his hand a tin pan, which he beat with a stick.whilehe and the chief who followed him made nideous noises to drive away the evil spirits. A tree suitable to their purpose was at last chosen, and was approached with whoops and tbe tiring of guns. In a very short time it was felled, and the warriors, ranging themselves on each side of the trunk, attached their lariats to it, and drew it into camp, amid the yells of the savages. A se;ect few appointed by the medicine man then raised it in position, the proceedings being accompanied by incantations and much noise?the one for invoking blessings and the other for driving away evil spirits. The temple, or tent, was then erected around the pole. It was circular in form, fifty feet in diameter, with walls six fee; hi^h, the apex of the roof being thirty ieet from the ground. The sides and roof were composed of buffalo skins. Inside tour pews were constructed, with wnlls about three feet hieh. two for the male and two for the icmale dancers, who are usually young people, who had, when in imminent danger of their lives, vowed to perform this service out of gratitude to the Great Spirit. The dance is merely a jerk of the body and a series of contortions, without any motion of the feet. The medicine man announces everything ready, and dancers, to the number of about forty, male and female, took positions in the pews. The bucks wore feather3 in the scalplocks, and displayed a style of costume not yet adopted m civilized society. The squaws, however, had completed their toilets with much more care, and appeared on the scene with their finery displayed to the best advantage. The orchestra, composed of half a dozen chiefs armed with drums made of deer skin, took its place at ten Thursday night, and, to the grunting of the medicine man, chief musicians and head men, and a wild song from the dancers, the ball opened. Each dancer was provided with a whistle made from the wine-bone of a goose, ornamented with feathers and colors. As they jumped about they sounded shrill notes upon their instruments, which, blendinz with the wl oops, yells and monotonous drumming, fell upon the civilized ear with startling effect. Hour after hour the dance was kept up, the only intermission being at the wili of the drummers, who were relieved at intervals. At times the surging and noise subsided, and a wise man in a see-saw tone recited tales of heroism for the edification and emulation oi the young. During Friday and Saturday the warriors gave many exhibitions of their powers of endurance. A muscular warrior stood unconcerned while a couple of chiefs stuck long skewers through the flesh of his shoulders. The lines of a horse were attached to the skewers, and the warrior was told to lead the animal around until the flesh gave way. With blood streaming down his back and breast, and mingling with the paint upon his dusky body,the enduring savage walked around for a couple of hours without a murmur. m?- ?t. il . KJa a^Aiil/loro ?UOUL^Ii LLiU UC3L1 upvu liio ouuumwia tore in the direction of the neck,yet it did not give way,and the medicine man,with much ceremony, released the hero, who sauntered off with a grunt of satisfaction. The next act on the programme was more startling than the last. A young buck was introduced and allowed two 3kewers to be thrust through the flesh of hia breast without wincing; two lariats suspended from the roofpole of the tent were listened to the skewers. He then began to swing around the tent as far as the lines would allow him, throwing his whole weight upon the lines in his endeavor to break loose. The dancers danced and the drummers drummed with renewed vigor while the exhibition was in progress. After several hours' exercise lie demonstrated to the satisfaction of alJ that he was a tough young man. and was loosed, amid grunts 01 approval. Another heroic scalper had four pegs driven into him?two in his back and two in the back part of his arms. Four guns were hung upon tha nets, and he walked around and flirted with tho girls as if nothing bothered him. A party ol Assiniboiries, puinted to the eyes and armed to the teeth, appeared, and gave an exhibition cf how they killed their enemies. They thre fc their knives and guns about so carelessly and attacked each other so riercely that the few white spectators began to fear that the fight might spread, and felt uneasy for their scalps. Horses, blankets, knives, firearms, fancy lariats, skins and other articles were given as offerings to propitiate the Great Spirit many giving all they possessed that their children might be brought into the tent and blessed. The dance was kept up from Thursday night until Saturday, when the medicine man made "medicine1' for rain, and in an 1 hour it came a perfect downpour?testifying that the Great Spirit \v;is pleased with the festival. After the dance came the dog feast. It is supposed by the innocent roamers I of the plains that the eating of a dog's i liver, without regard to the quality ol > the dog, makes them strong-hearted. The temple used in the "thirst" dance i was taken down, with the exception ol i the center-pole, around which tho war, riorsseatea themse.ves in a circle and ; enjoyed a social smoke. Suddenly n t cry was given, and the warriors sprang i to their feet and commenced circling ; around to the dismal beating of a drum, The quivering carcass of a dog was gg *A " /* ?/?!? Wtt n nrnmnn > thrown wmiiu luu <* nVui?i.{ ; and the men whooped in eestacy. Tin j carcass was cut open, the liver torn out, > and, hung by a thong from the pole I The warriors, one by one, stepped up f and took a bite of the yet warm liver r and marched off happy. Assoonasoni t liver was consumed a fresh dog win j thrown into the circle and the stock o f liver replenished. As the white ^pocta t tors took to their buck board and drovi . off at the third liver, it could not b j ascertained how many livers it took t< i goarouud. s " r An exchange says: "The cats have be 7 come so thick in New York that Mi t Bergh has det?rmined to make war upo a them." It is not stated how thick th e New York cat has become, but if it ha - frtii r in/tlioQ ornnni) til li KLUVYU IWCUKJ-JUUI ... i- waist, Mr. Bergh is perfectly justiliab] it in making war upon them. A cat n thicker than a rolling pin can make moi !- operatic muuc than a dozen families ca i. consume.?Norristown Herald. e ? ? a The personal properl y of California >r valued at $113,304,431, ami the rei estate at $44*5,278,885. A BURIED SHIP. ' Marvelous Discovery Made by T* Miners la a Colorado Care-A Ful : ltlmted Teasel Under Ground. ! A short time ago two wanderii ; prospectors, while sinking a shaft nei r Red Cifl, Colorado, made a discovery i ! marvelous and astounding as to see ' more like a tale from the Arabian Nigh than a sober nineteenth century realit; ; The names of these men were Jacc ; Cahee and Louis Adams, the latter resident of Loadville, and the form) from some locality in Southern Co orado, we believe near Alamosa. Boi were mining experLs, and finding favoi able indications on a wide plain, at tfc foot of quite a steep hill, began to sink shaft, first passing through thirty feet < wash and then striking a lime formt tion stained with iron, and evident! not in place. They were on the point < stopping work in despair, but thus ei couraged pushed on their digging wit renewed activity until at a depth < fifteen feet a hollow sound respont ing to tue blows oi tneir picks ga\ warning that they were nearing som subterranean passage or gallery. Ui willing to give up what appeared to fc so fine a prospect, they secured then selves from the top by ropes and pre ceeded very cautiously witli their worl After a day's digging the bottom, whic had been constantly been growin thinner, gave way with a crash, and th two adventurous miners found then selves suspended midway in what ap peared to be a large, irregular cave, som 240 feet long and about 180 feet wide * its broadest point. They had pierce the cavern in its extremity, and had n difficulty in swinging themselves agaim a sort of a natural stairway of granit boulders heaped against the sides. Th cave seemed at first empty, but as thei oyes gradually became accustomed t the deep gloom the men saw in th further extremity a huge black objeel which, not without trepidation, the approached. As they neared it, to thei unbounded amazement, they made ou the outlines of some sort of sail ing craft, but the idea of a ship fift; feet under ground was so prepos terous that they thought it some fantas tic mass of rocks and not until the fairly touched the timbers would the; V-tnliotrp fho ox7iHpnf>0 r*f fhoir nan senses. A ship it plainly was or hw been, but a ship different from any tha the eves of the astonished miners hai ever looked upon. It was, as nearly a they could judge, about sixty feet lonj by some thirty feet wide, and lay tiltei forward at an angle of about filteen de grees over a rough pile of stone. Th body of the craft was built of shor lengths of some bark and very porou wood, resembling our black walnut i it could be imagined with the grail pulled apart like sponge or a piece o bread, and made perfectly square. Botl ends (it was evidently intended for sail ing either way) were turned abruptly U| like the toe of a peaked Moorish slippei The planking was apparently doubl riveted on with nails of extremely han copper, only slightly rust-eaten, am with the heads cut or filed in a diagons shape, while along the upper edge of th ship a dozen large rings of tne sam metal, and evidently for the securing c rigging, were counted. At the bottor edges of the craft and running its entir length were two keels some four and half feet deep and six inches thick, huni on metallic hinges, and at the ends wer lastenea rougu copper roas, exienain; upward and bent over so as to attach ti two masts rising from the upper edges If the cross of an inverted letter A b conceived to represent the deck lines the two stems are about the angle am position of tne masts. These were up ward of twenty feet long, and, as ai evidence that a sail was at one tim stretched across, some ragged remnant of wtiat appeared to be cording wer found clinging to the inner edges. Th ends of the mast were secured in pivots and it was evident that in tacking on could be moved forward and the othe back, thus bringing the sail at angl with the body of the ship?an ide which it might not be bad for ou modern navigators to emulate. Lyin, on the ground near by, however, wa discovered a gold instrument bearing ; rude resemblance to the sextant of th present day and possibly, used to ccJ.cu late the longitude. No trace of an; writing was lound aaveat one end o? th ship.wliere about midway on the bow c tiie slnp, inciosea in a metai ring, wer twenty-six copper characters riveted t the wood and bearing much resem blance to Chinese hieroglyphics of th present day. No human rcmaius of an sort were found, although it is possibl that a search in the hold will reve? something of thi9sort. Without pushing their investigation further, the two miners, lost in wondei ment, retraced their steps to the uppc air, leaving the ghastly ship once mor in gloom and silence. Married Without a Word, Mr. A. B. Davis and Mis3 Lucy C Cook were married ono ni?ht recentl at the residence of the bride's parents in Cincinnati, by Superintendent G. t Fay, of the State institution for des mutes at Columbus. The contractin parties are both mutes and graduates c the State institution, the bride havin taught the last year in fie deaf mul school in Cincinnati. The croom is son of a prominent real estate merchar of Sandusky. The ceremony, rendered in the mu! language, was very impressive. At il conclusion the united couple, with tL immediate relatives and a few friend partook of an elegant supper prepare by Kepp er, which was one of his bes The bride was dressed in iv beautifi evening Bilk of old gold color, wit Spanish lace trimmings and the usus orange blossoms, and looked very prett the groom wearing the convention black. Mr. Fay, during his fourteen year superintendecy, has married thirty-si: mute couples. The Season for Oysters. The discovery that the season f< oysters is limited to the months havii an " r" in their names is Sy no means i new one. The New York World pu i lishes a letter written 13-2 years ago, I Professor Kalm, a Hollander, who w then visiting New York, in which tl writer notes that, " It is a commi i rule here that oysters are best in tho ! month which have an V in the ! names, as September, October, etc., b , that they are not so good in oth . months. However, there are poor pe ! pie who live all the year long upi | nothing but oysters and bread." Tim | charge, but not tlie season for oystei It is not the poor now who live up > ovsters. The professor also makes nc of the fact that the Indians used to car | on a trade in oystere with tribes livi ] higher up in the country, and cautio explorers from supposing that moun 2 of oyster and mussel shells found in t j interior were left there bv the sea. Presence of Mind. B There is nothing like presence e mind after all. The other day, duri 3 a tremendous shower, a gentleman < tered a fashionable New York ch bearing a splendid ivory-handled s umbrella, which he placed on the ra< ' Instantly another gentleman, who v n mourning the abstraction of just su e an article, jumped up. "Will you all< 3 me to look at that?", he said, stern e "Certainly," remarked the umbre e carrier. "I was just taking it to t 0 police headquarters. It was Mt in i e hou?e last night by a burglar, whom n frightened off. I hope it will prov< lirst-rate clew." And though the ex f(prated owner could plainly see wh lis name had been scratched o!T 1 *1 handle, he sat down and changed I subject.?Vow York Hour. FOR TH? FAIll SEX. ro An Old 9fal<l. J- In girlish wonder, "It is strange," You say, "to hear a laugh so Iii;ht? ^ To see such lovely rounded cheeks, J0 Such smiling lips, and eyes 80 bright; m Such pretty hair, unmarked with gray, ts A brow where lingers naught of shade, ? And knows that she who owns them all 'b Is an old maid." a hose eyes ne'er lost their gentle gleam j" Because ihey are the home of truth; jP And thoughts ol charity and love Have stamped the brow and lips with yout a And it the cheeks are fltill as round jf As when they dimpled long ago, l* Tia children's kisses on them pressed y Have kept them bo. j_ ?Baldurin's Monthly. h )f Featherwork. Ladies who live in the country an 'e raise poultry would find it a source i ie amusement if they would save tl x" feathers of hens, roosters, pea fowl ie etc., and form them into feather dustei l" or flowers for winter bouquets. Ft the latter, begin by making a card-bo with many divisions; then with shai n scissors trim away all the snperfluot S parts, and shape the feather in a 16 oval leaf, leaving only a short sten l* Prepare a good many in this wa; carefully cutting away a part ot tfc l? midrib to render it flexible. Ha\ U some wire, cut into short pieces, an a some strands of floss silk, and, taking 0 piece of wire, attach firmly to one en ,t; several stiff fibers or a few bits of dowr ;e next, take one of the leaves and, bene e ing it gently outward, fix it close to tb r tutt by winding the silk tightly roun 0 the wire; repeat until you have sixc e eight leaves around the stamens, an '? finish your flower by winding the whol y stem with green or brown floss. Shoi ? goose feathers form lovely white rose :* by arranging 'several rows of petals an 1" nrtnfflro toHiIn n'nh trroo UOilJ? JC11V/TT va-utviOj nuuv **vm y leaves are made from the beautiful ta feathers of the rooster and the wing c the common duck. The breasts of pe y fowls give us exquisite blue flowers, an y the different shades of gray and woo ^ color, found in the plumage of the con: mon hen, will surprise those who hav J not made a study of the art of featbf a flower making. For those who can se 3 no beauty in quiet shades there are tb ? "family dyes," which will colc a feathers prettily, first by wetting we * in hot water, then ;dipping in a solutio ? of red and blue, with the addition ot 1 small bit of alum to set the color. To 3 plumage of birds of al kinds, and of tb 1 wild duck in particular, will vary yov af collection, and form objects worthy < If admiration and study for all.?Flon 3 Cabinet. P Fashion Fancies. f More and more bead embroideries ai j coming from Paris. Wide collars and cuffs ofj batiste ai e to be worn. e Great coils of chenille will be used 1 i trim some winter bonnets. Q Milk white flower vases are ver e beautiful and exceedingly cheap ? Plush linings will be substituted fc I face trimmings in winter bonnets, g Single box plaits about tWv> inchi o wide are the newest arrangement f( i. flounces. e The jet is not yet out of favor, an i? will be much used on winter bonnets, fl is said. Velvet strings arc half as wide i p those of ribbon and a third as wide i ? those of Surah. e A bag matching the gown has come t e be considered a necessary part of )( pretty costume. e Bands of fancy feathers wide enoug r to fully trim a hat will be used by M e milliners. a The waist of a street dress must loo r something like a riding habit to b 8 fashionable next winter. Buckles are slowly coming into vogu again. The belts worn with man . gowns make them a necessity, y The .dark purples which appear i e winter goods are almost as universal] ,t becoming as navy blue. e The Impeyan pheasant will have n o rest this winter. His feathers will sti - be in demand for turbans. e Turbans, Rubens and Gainsboroug y hats and English walking hats will a e be fashionable this winter. L Smooth felt bonnets are not likely t - be much worn this-winter, but all tl t furry materials will be in favor, r e Fort Bowie, In Southern Arizona, in what : named, irom the tribe of Indians s long its only human inhabitants, Fin: ; county, stands old Fort Bowie, on tl: j main trail from El Paso to Tucsoi , Like most of the so-called forts in th )[ southwest, it is a low structure of adol sun-dried brick, and would make but poor defense against even ttie weake: )f of modern artillery. g As a stronghold against the Indian :e however, it has on many occasion a proved amply sufficient. The counti it in which it is situated is one of tl wildest and most barren portions of tl te American continent. ts The land everywhere presents marks !e traces ot volcanic action. The plaii 3> are mainiy deserts, the mountains ba :d ren rocks, oiten without a trace of veg it. tation. The rivers run in deep canon il whose perpendicular walls rise to tl h height of two thousand feet. Tl il traveler may bj in sight of water, at y yet require a journey of tifty miles I a read 1 it,. Yet these rugged mountaii are rich iu gold aud silver, and the te 3 ritor.v is rapidly developing and increa i ing in population year by year. The completion of the Southei Pacific railway will open up vast di tricts now too inaccessible to enab mining to be profitably carried on. )r Fort Bowie takes its names from tl lg famous Colonel James Bow: ,a the inventor of the bowie knife, wJ was one ot the pioneers of Texas, a: >y in his search lor adventure explor as rliotriffra hpfore unknown, exo.e JJLLtfcUJ to their Indian inhabitants?the gre ^ tribes of the Comanches, Apache Navagoes, Cayugas, Pimas and Ma t copas. Colonel Bowie fell at the mas," er ere of the Alamo on the San Antoi 0. river, in Texas, on March 6, 1836. 3n The Alamo was a small adobe fo eg not unlike Fort Bowie in its constri ra tion. It was defended by one hundi 0n and forty Texans, commanded ^ Colonel William Travis, while 1 ry Mexicans, led by Geneial Santa Am n? numbered four thousand. n9 The Texans fought with such despe ds tion that, when finally overpower lie but six ol the little buna remained ali Among these were the eelebra Colonel David Crockctt, Colonel Bov and Major Evans. They surrenderee] Colonel Castrillon under his promise protection; but on being taken bef nK Santa Anna, were by his orders ?n* stantly cut to pieces. The Mexican 1 fN was one thousand six hundred. 'J ! ~c A lortm WOQ fnllnwpH massacre ui iuc ;k. the battle of San Jacinto, which resul ?as in tiie defeat of the whole Mexii ich army, and the capture of Santa Ai w himself with most of his generals, ly- this battle the Texans, shouting 11a war cry, " Remember the Alam lie charged with such resistless fury a: ny carry all before them. we ^ ; a as- A naturalist may study the habits ere the mosquito, out of books, for yet the hut it is only by long and careful pr :he lice tliat he can learn to hit one in dark without mashing his own nos< Life and Lore. ; Lile is a garden fair and free, ^ But 'tis love that holds the golden key, For hand and heart /?j Once held apart, .. Life's flowers are dashed with storm ot sorrow; And bloom to-day may be blight to-morrow;. " Then heedless ever of wind and weather, Let life and love be linked together. Life is a diamond rich and rare, -0 Bat love is a luster that dances there; For hand and heart * * > ' , - 4 Once held apart, #; . ^ Life's jewels grow dim in the breath of SvJtrow h. And diamond to-day may be dost to-morrow, 4 Then hoedless ol the wind and weather, -' ' Let lile and love be linked together. ? \ ' r - y.^ Life hath a fair and sunshine face ' Bnt love is a beauty that give# it -? For hand and heart Once held apart . f The sweetest cheeks are pa wfch sorrow, * . ltj And blush to-day may be blanche3 to-morrow; Then heedless ev?r of wind and weather, c, Let b'fe and love be linked together. J ITEMS OP IKTEBEST. p * - - " : is Something to lie about?A bed. 111 Head clerks?Barbers' assistants. I' A slow match?A couple that marries ,g after twenty years' courtship. . . e According to Richard Grant White,, d " hug" is a word that embraces a great a deal. ; d An old thermometer i^ never very i; popular. Nobody wan's to see a ther1 mometer over seventy. . , -.""i I? The fashionable sleeve grows tighter, Q and even clings closely about the wrist JJ The cuffs worn with ft are very deep.. le It is estimated that there are about .t 10J,000 Italians in America, of whom a more than 15,000 live in New York city. * vr-?? fVio mafiAP vifh Q -LXCYtlT Oiuy V<J aigUU VUV WM?W? TW mwm* iV r ? ? n an indignant hornet. Admit the coril rectness of its remarks, right on thejpot i >f and get away from there. a An exchange assumes to tell " what a the Indians raise." Thn thing they d raise most is that which Robert Inger- ' , .."S i- soli doesn't believe in. ? Professor Henry Draper has stated ;f facts which seem to point to the conclu- m sion that it is not improbable that the t planet Jupiter is still hot enough to give [J out light. n In 1882 it is expected that Bremen, a Germany, will hold a great horticul- - "<'-f e tural exhibition. The occasion will beie the twenty-fifth anniversary of., the 'a ir foundation of the horticultural dociety 3/ in that city. il "How under heavens am I to get * along now?" was the regretful remark of shiftless Hank Munroe, of Lebanon,' Mo., after te had, in a moment of ' anger, killed the wife who had long * v e suoDorted him. Two Iowa boys were amusing them:e selves by throwing a heavy ramrod as . high as they could. One of thenfmefr .. 0 his death by the missile descending with the velocity of a bullet and penetrating his head. 7 " My dear," said a sentimental maiden to her lover, " of what do these autum- "' )r nal '.tints, this glowing baldric of the* sky, the blazing garniture of the dyin* is year, remind youP" "Pancake?," he >r promptly answered. The daughters of present European / v d rulers do not support the common * it theory of the novel and the stage, that aristocratic blood causes delicauy andnrew finement of face. They are, as ar rule, , u rather coarse nnd common as to features A tomcit sits upon a shed, And warbles wildly to his mate, " Oh, when the world has gone to bed, a I love to sit and mew till late " < * Bui while this tom-cat sit?and sings, h Up springs a boarder, mad with hate, 1C Who shoots that cat to flddlestrings; lie also loved to mutilate. - -e ??? ,! If Look at tile paruauiy u. uuiuic. .e W ben a bee stings once, its work is finished, and it dies. Bat we have [e known one gaunt mosquito to tap a con-. ference, and then get mad because there y wasn't a picnic in the neighborhood.- * Owego Record. * ' .. . y Ten thousand English miners are anJ nually injured by accidents, and 850 of these die. In Prussia the mortality is .9 much higher, a life being sacrificed foi " every 70,451 tons of coal raised, while in England the proportion is only one h in every 89,410. ... ^ "Are animals color'blindP" asks a writer in a scientific magazine. Now x> there is a man who has never wandered te through a cow pasture with a red flannel shirt on. Come to think of it, we have never wandered through that kind of a cow pasture, either. ? Js A Welshman was on exhibition in is London for some days as a faster. He so was to forfeit fifty dollars lor every day la he tasted food during two weeks. A le watch was organized, and the publie ororti oHmittred on condition of purchas le ing drinks. The man made a strong at>e tempt to carry out hh undertaking, but a after six days he fell from the sofa in a 3t state of coma, and only revived when fed. s> The first coins of the Uliited States 9> were struck with the portrait of Martha y Washington, Mr. Spencer, who cut the ie first die, copying her features in his le medallion. When General Washington saw the coins he was very wroth, and 'd before any more were struck off the features of his wiJo were altered somcr* what, and a cap placed on her hcj.d. thii e* being the original of the present Goqs? dess'of Liberty. _? . A Wisconsin peddler assured each ' ^ purchaser of a cake of soap that, on ia usin? each cake uutil the center was ? reached, a $10 note would be found :J 33 therein. The buyers cut the cakes open r" but found no money. The swindler was 3" arrested. He argued that the complainants, by cutting into the soap, ins'ead rn of using it in the ordinary way, had s* violated the terms of the sale, and lle therefore could not legally proceed , against him. The justice ruled that the 116 defense was sound, and discharged the prisoner. Growth of Cillfs. pt The Springfield (Mass.) Iieptdlican ;at says: In all the settled States in the ea, North from 1860 to 1880 the urban popuii lation increased faster than the rural. ja- The census of 1875 show that it this iio State the growth of population was confined almost wholly to its citips; with a >rt, growth from 1865 to 1875 of 384 881 for in. the whole State, the citips increased - eon Thft ed 115,992, and the towns IliO,COa, A ijv by State increased during tl is period a ttie little less than one-third, the cities a na^ little more than two-lifths, and the towns a little less than one-fifth. In New York ra. State, over nineteen-twenticths of the ' i ed, increase indicated by the ccnsus of 1875 vc#' was in the uiban population of the teri State. In the pre* nt census, New York . vie plly an(l Brooklyn, which contain le*s 1than forty per ccnt. of the population of ?of the State, lurnish our sixty percent. ore of it3 increase. By the same census in in. this State, no county returns a respect0da able increase except a3 it registers the The growth of some city within its limits. by In Illinois, very much the largest part ted of the growth of the State is due to its uan cities, and there are many counties whose 3na inhabitants would show a positive decrease it it were not for the advance oi t]ie our urban population. The same thing r,i" is true of Ohio. The cities of tlie South, * ' 1 (.hnv 5 | particularly on tlie Atlantic ium,ruv., comparatively small increase, and on the Pacilic const the increase in population has been rural, rather than urban; of and in the great and prosperous Sthtrs irs, which lie between the Atlantic and Misac sisfippi, north i<t the l'otomac and the the Ohio, the increase of population is ue chictiy to the growth of great cities.