The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, April 26, 1882, Image 1
ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, APKIL 26, 1882.
NO. 47. VOLUME * XXVI.
Tl?o Silver Li it i nr.
There's never a day so sunny
But a little cloud appears ;
There's never a life *<> happy
But has its time of teais ;
Yet the sun shines out the brighter
Whenever the tem;>cst c.'ears.
There's never a garden growing
With roses in evtry : 1 >t;
There's never a Lcart so hardened
But it has one tender i-pot:
V\*e have only to prune the border
To find the forget-me-not.
There's never a sun that rhes
But we know 'twill get at night;
The tints that gleam in the morning
At evening are just as bright;
And the hour that is (he sweetest
Is between the dark and light.
'1 here's never a dream so happy
But the waking makes us sad;
There's never a dteam of sorrow
But the waking makes us glad ;
We shall look some day with wonder
At the "troubles" we have had.
THAT GREEN SILK.
Mrs. Deacon Lewis ami Mrs. Davis, j
the postmistre?s, were conferring to
gether in mysterious whispers as they
leaned over their mutual back-yard
fence. Said Mrs. Deacon Lewis :
"Seein' is believin' or else I should !
say jest as yon do, that it couldn't be i
true; but I jest stepped into Miss;
Badger's to see what she'd charge to fix j
over my black alpaca?I wa'n't in any :
hurry for the alpaca, but I hind of pot j
r.n idea that, there was Pomethin' in the :
wind and I thought meb l>e Jcould find
out what it was there?and thero I saw
it with my own two eyca, all over plaifc
in'u and ruffling that itseemed aburnin'
shame to cut up good thick silk into, i
and fixed up in tho back so't I couldn't '
have the heart to set down on it. And
Miss Badger, for all she's so close- j
mouthed, she up and told me who it ,
belonged to, and savs I, 'You don't say ,
so !' and says she, 'Yes, I do,' and then (
she pursed her lips up kind of pro- | ]
vokin', as if she cculd tell a great deal ' ,
more if she w.n a mind to. But I've j
got wit enough to put two and two to- | ;
g9ther, if folks is close-mouthed, and j j
says I, right out?for them ain't nothin'! f
sly about me--says I, 'Then Cordilly I,
Brewster is a-goin' to get married.' And * i
Miss Badger she never denied it." ,
" Well, it does beat all," said Mrs. ]
Davis. "This has been a sing'lar year,
what with the comet and the terrible j,
happenin's all round; and now Cordilly ,
Brewster settin' up to have a green silk j j
.dress, when sbo hasn't worn anything ; ]
but bombazine and alpaca and her one j ]
old black siik for nigh upen twenty! (
TH V L. _ a. 1 J I .
years. j.i s enougu ro upsei auyuouyui
ideas altogether, and make 'em think
the world'* comin to an end. Though j
I can't say that such extravagance looks
much like the millenium." j
Mrs. Deacon Lewis shook her head in ;
solemn censure. I
" A good black silk would have been !
much more suitable and becomin' to a !
woman most forty years old, to say !
nothin' of the wear and the makin' over,
and for a minister's wife?" !
" You don't say that she's goin1 to
marry the minister!" exclaimed Mrs.
Davis.
" Why, I suppose so, of course. Who
can it be if it isn't tho minister?''
" I never saw any sign of their!
keepin' company. Parson Greeley is i
too *peritual to marry a woman that j
crimps her front hair with hot slate I
pencils; and she never put more than |
three eggs into those custards that she i
carried to the donation party. I sbould ;
think more likely 'twas somebody that i
she picked up when she was down to j
Haverhill xbitiu', or John Parmenter, i
that used to keep company with her |
when they was young, and has kind o'|
been doin' it, oS and on, ever sence." j
" Ob, she wouldn't have John Par
menter, even if he had spunk enough
to ask her, which ho hain't. lie is a
good fellow, John is, but he'll never set j
the wqrld3t3j?.. ^ feS^U^.CS-rUBnin4*r
(tbwh hill terribly lately; has had to
mortgage his furm, thev do say."
"Cordiliy's money would come in
just right, then; but, as you say, 1 don't
suppose sfce would have him. It's likely
that's what's made John turn out so
poorly, her not bavin' him. But I can't
really believe it's the minister. There's
Sammy; let's ask him.;' j
Sammy Greeley, the minister's young-;
est hopeful, who wasengagedin " shin
ning up" a neighboring telegraph pole
with the ambitious design of attaching
his kite to the wire, descended some-:
what rolnctantly to the earth and
obeyed Mrs. D^vis' beckoning finper. \
Sammy was a freckled-faced urchin j
with a turned up nose, the expression I ,
of which was contradicted by a pair of ^
preternatuially solemn and innocent
looking blue eyes. In spite of his eyes
Sammy was generally regarded as a (
"limb," and he and his three brothers,
Moses, Hosea and Joseph, caused the
old proverb concerning ministers' sons ,
to'be often repeated with eomnle head- (
shakings by the townspeople.
" Sammy, is your father goin' to be
married ?" asked Mrs. Davis, with her
hand affectionately placed on Sammy's
shoulder.
"The old gent? He couldn't remem- |
bar to. Nobody would have him,
either. He's as bald as a door-knob,
and ho asks a blessin' anywhere along
between the meat and tho puddin*. And
Joe and mo would fix her, anyhow."
"Wouldn't yon libe to have him
marry a nice, kind lady like Miss Cor- >
dilly Brewster? She would teach you '
how to behave?"
" Know hew good enough now, and i
I'd wribg her old parrot's neck ! I don't;
believe it, anyhow, but I'm goin' to find |
out."
And off went Sammy, regardless of >
his kite, and buret, breathless, into his j
father's study.
"You ain't goin' to marry Miss.
Brewster and her old green parrot that j
sweats, and have her always clearin' up j
and dustin' and losin* your papers, are
yer? ' demanded Sammy.
The minister turned from his sermon
wri'.ing and regarded Sam.
amazement. Gradually his expression j
changed to one of perplexity. He re
moved his spectacles from his eyes to
the top of his head and then he tapped
his forehead with the tips of his fin
gers, as if to summon forth some stray
ing recollection.
"ThRt must be tho very thing I was '
trying to remember! Wait a moment, j
I must have set it down somewhere."
And Parson Greeley drew from one of
the pigeon holes of his desk some loose
sheets of foolscap paper which had evi
dently been used as a diary. Several
pages were devoted to memoranda;
f Koto miniafor ronrl alnnd*
".'Mem.?To confute the infidel ped-'
dler's argument by St. Pan] and?
"'Mim.?To tell Debc ah, mildly;
bnt firmly, that so much saleratua is
not conducive to health.
' Mem.?To punish Joseph and
Samuel for unseemlv conduct at prayer
time.
" 'Mem.?To admonish Brother Bates
(gently) that he is becoming unsound
in doctrine.
" ' Mem.?To endeavor so far as lies
in mo to restore peace to the singing
seats.
"'Mem.?To endeavor to exercise
sued a measure of wholesomo restraint
over Moses and Samuel that they may
not become a cause of scandal to the
neighborhood.
" ' Mem.?To devote a greater meas-1
ure of attention to worldly matters, j
such as applying blacking to my boots, j
and binshiQR my raiment.
"'Mem.?To consider prayerfully;
whether the use of hair-dye is incom- j
patible with the principles of the Christ-;
ian religion or the duties of the Christ
ian ministry.
" 'Mem.?That the singing feats are
in the hands of God, and that He causes
even the wrath of man to praise Dim.
"'Mem.?To consider prayerfully
the subject of contracting a matrimo
nial alliance with Miss Cordelia Brew
ster.'
"That's it 1 I knew I was not mis
taken ; and I felt that I had leadings
from the Lord in that direction; and
: yet, in the midst of manifold cares and
i distractions, it wholly slipped my mind,
: weak and erriDg mortal that I am.
j But it may not yet be too late." And
the minister seized his hat, giving it a
hasty bmsh with his sleeve, and hur
ried to the door, turning, however, to
lay his hand with unwonted tenderness
upon his son's head, saying, solemnly:
"Samuel, I thank you for this sugges
tion, and 1 would that I could perceive
in you as lively signs of the workings
of grace as I do of wisdom and discern
ment beyond your years."
Samuel, left alone, looked after his
father with a most lugubrious face.
" For a feller to go and do it himself,
that's the worst of it! I hadn't better
let on to Mose and the rest that I did
it! No more fun it she comes here;
she'll want a feller not to tear his
clothes and lmvo hi3 hair brushed
every minute, and no pie or cake be
tween meals. We'll make it lively for
her, though?Mose and Hose and Jo
and I."
All unconscious of what was in store
for her Miss Cordelia Brewster was en
paged in inspecting and admiring her
green silk dress, which had just been
sent home f.oni the dressmaker's. Miss
Cordelia was a plump little woman,
with a pinkish bloom fetill lingering
upon her cheeks, and no trace of time's
frosting upon her chestnut locks. Why
she had never married was a mystery.
For ten years after her father, the vil
lage doctor, had died, leaving her a
modest competence, the gossips had
been on the lookout for signs of matri
monial intentions on her part. When
she had passed thirty and was still Miss
Cordelia, people gradually ceased to
speculate about her. For some inscrut
ablo reason they decided that Miss Cor
delia meant to be an old maid to the end
of thechapter. It wasobserved that even
John Parmenter, who had somewhat
indefinitely "hung round" her for
years, "kirrd o' dropped off;" ho no
longer sat in the singing seats, where
Miss Cordelia still serenely kept her
place, despite the rivalry of younger
choristers ; so they were not so fre
quently thrown together, and he was
seldom seen to walk home with her
from the weekly prayer-meeting ; his
Did sorrel mare was very rarely seen
fastened to the hitching-post before
Lilies c-oruena s aoor 01 a eunaay nignt;
and only once or twice had he been
seen shyly to offer her a nosegay of
southernwood and cinnamon pinks,
which grew to great perfection in his
crarden, and of which, in her girlhood.
Miss Cordelia had been very fond.
Many other admirers had Miss Cor
delia, but she had turned a cold shoul
3er upon all, and seemed perfectly con
:ented to live on in her comfortable old
aonsc, with trim box bordered flower
3eds in the front yard, and lilac bushes
jrowding in at the windows, with her
Handmaiden Tryphosa, who was not,
is her name suggested, a blooming and
romantic young maiden, but an ancient
ind angular spinster, who believed in
signs and omens, and always "felt"
;oming events "in her bones." Try
ahosa was now gazing at the green silk
ivith a melancholy expression of coun
tenance.
" Green means forsaken; there ain't
30 denyin' it. And Seliny Wilson, that
was merried in green, was laid out a
jorpse in it before the end of the year;
ind Mertildy Lyman, that was merried
in a white muslin sprigged with green,
md green bunnit strings, she had a
irunken husband that fell off the hay
now and dislocated his spinal column,
?nd everybody knew her twins wa'n't
aright; and?"
" But I am not going to be married in
t, you know, Tryphosa," said Miss Cor
lelia, turning a merry face up to Miss
Fryphosa's doleful one. "Perhapsit is
)nly unlucky as a wedding dress. As
'or being forsaken, there doesn't seem
o be anybody left to forsake me but
rou, and I am not afraid that all the
Sreen dresses in the world could make
rou do that."
"Thero ain't no luck abjut green
johow," said Tryphosa. "If 'twas lay
ock, now, or a handsome brown?"
suppose I really ought -
lad black," said llisstJordelia, medita
tively; " but 6ome way the spring com
no nn. with flVArrthinc fin frfish nnd
bright, made me feel as I used to long
igo, and I've made believe to myself?
[ wouldn't own it to anybody but you,
["ryphosa?but I've made believe I was
t girl again. And that's why I had this
jreen silk."
"And that's why you've been putting
sosies in your hair. Well, it beats all
vhat a difference there is in folks. Now
spring puts me in mind of house
;leanin' and soap-bilin' and bitters
Land eakes! if there ain't Parson Gree
ey a-comin' up the walk, and nothin'
jut the old cropple crown for dinner,
ind all skin and bones at that, and he
i-comin' in the yard this blessed min
ute !''
Miss Cordelia whisked the gTeen silk
3ut of sight, and smoothed her crimps
demurely down, as she hastened to
jreefc her visitor.
It happened that Miss Polly Watkins,
who went about the village peddling a
concoction known as Watkins' Unap
proachable Liniment, was so fortunate
is to be passing just as the. minister
opened Miss Cordelia's front yard gate.
"There! I knew well that there
wa'n't never so much smoke without
some fire. Miss Badger needn't think
she could make me believe that green
silk gown with a train didn't mean
something. So it's the minister. "Well, |
men-folks is terrible f-liort-sighted ere- j
ters. There is them in Westlield that j
would make him a good sensible wife '' |
Miss Polly was eo unhappy as to go ;
on for nearly a quarter of a mile before !
she met anybody to whom she could !
tell her news, and then it was only Dr.
Iiampav, jogging along behind hiB old
white horse, and between him and Miss
Polly " there wa'n't," as 6he expressed
it, "no great likin', no more'n there was
apt to bo between two cf a trade." But
still new6 was news, and Misa Polly
could not resist the temptation of an
opportunity to 6hare it.
"Well, things do turn out queer 1"
said the doctor to himself, meditatively
flicking a fly off his old white horse as
he jogged along again. "I wouldn't
have thought she would havo had any
body, let alone the old parson. If I had
thought? "Why, I'm ten years young
er'n ho is and a sight better calculated
to please t lie fair Fex. And that's a
snug bit cf property of Miss Cordilly's,
and 6he'd a wholesome-looking, good
tempered woman, to say nothing of be
ing handsome, which don't signify. I
believe I can cut out the parson if I
try. I always said I would die a bach
elor, but it's a wise man that changes
his mind."
And the doctor actually whipped his
hcrso ut of his accustomed jog into a
lively trot, and everybody ran to the
window, for the doctor in a hurry was
a sight that the o11 s inhabitant had
never seen.
In the meantime Miss Polly had met
Abner Phillips, one of the "black folks,"
who lived three miles from the village.
But Abner could not havo been more
interested in Miss Polly's news if he
had lived next door to the possessor of
the green silk.
His homeward way led him past John
Parmcnter's house, and John was hoe
ing in his gardeo.
"Wa'al, now, Parson Greeley is goin'
to do a pretty good thiDg for himself,
ain't he?' drawled Abner, after the
usual comments and inquiries concern
ing crops had been exchanged. "Ete
knows which side his bread is buttered
on. Parsons ginerally doos."
" What is he going to doinquired
John Parmenter.
"You don't mean to say you hain't
heard? Wa'ul, I declare, you don't
know what's poin' on so well as black
folks doos 1 He's a goin' to marry Miss
| Cordilly Brewster. He's turrible tejus,
l the old parson is, and she'll havo to
| step around lively to fetch up them
j boys. Bat women-folks always doos set
by a minister."
After Abner had gone John Par
menter dropped his hoa and stood
wiping his forehead with his handker
chief with a bewildered look.
"I don't know why I shouldn't have
expected she'd marry, bat somehow ]
didn't. I never thought of such a thing,
I I don't know why I should f6el so aboui
I it. If I hadn't the courage to ask he]
when I was young and prosperous surel]
I couldn't now. I always began to be i
coward the minute I came in sight o
j her. I never felt so before any othei
i woman; but then I never cared any
I thing about any other. Anyway, I can'l
j rest until I find out whether its true oi
not. Cordelia can't object to telling ar
old frieud. Madame Rumor rules thif
i village, and she's very apt to be mis
: taken."
So John set out to call on Miss Cor
delia. As ho passed the bed of cinna
mon pinks he found that, although i1
was early in the season, three had bios
somed that very morning, and he mad(
them into a little nosegay with som(
sprays of fragrant southernwood. And
ho was in such haste that he forgot tc
| conceal them from the public gaze by a
bit of paper, as?feeling that it was
somewhat ridiculous for a stout old
bachelor of forty-five to be carrying
about little bouquets?he had done on
other occasions.
The doctor was driving away from
Miss Cordelia's door as John approached
i ii _ 1. : l l _ _ 1 jj r 1 * jj
ic, me worse goiug at im oiu-iuBuumeu
jog, as if there wero nothing in the
world that was worth hurrying for.
"I hope she isn't ill!" thought
John, and then a sudden aispicion
seized him. Here might be another
rival, and a more formidable one than
Parson Greeley. Were rivals spring
ing up around him like mush
rooms, when he had never thought of
the possibility of the existence of one?
| Mus Cordelia's cheeks wen. much
flushed, and they grew redder still at
sight of John's nosegay.
John, strange to say, did cot blush
or stammer as he presented it. Rivals
seemed to bo a wonderful stimulus to
his courage.
"Cordelia, I heard that you were
going to marry Parson Greeley. It
isn't true, is it ?"
There was something in the tone of
his voice that made Miss Cordelia start.
Was John going to speak, after being
dumb so long?
"No, it isn't true," said Cordelia,
and cast down her eyes.
"Nor?nor anybody else?" John
was stammering now. Was his courage
going to fail?
" No, nor anybody else," said Miss
Cordelia. " That is?
Tryphosa, coming nto the kitchen
from the back yard at that moment,
saw a sight which caused her to drop
the cropple crow ed rooster, but just
deceased, into her pan of dcugh.
" Eiviry Kimball needn't have
knocked me up at 5 o'clock this
morain' to inquire if that green silk
dress bad a train. I should think it
did have a train 1" said Tiyphosa,
grimly.?Bazar
The Capitalist and the Editor.
"I came in to ask," bsgan a little old
man in a whisper, looking as if fearful
of being overheard, and drawing his
chair close up to the editor, "if you
know anything of the condition of the
Nevada Bank ?"
" No spocial information," replied
the editor.
"Then you think it solvent?per
fectly solvent?" demanded the little
man, with intenso eagerness.
" Certainly."
" Might I ask what its capital is?its
paid up capital?"
" Three millions, I believe," said the
editor, beginning to wonder what man
ner of man bad floated against him.
"And," continned the man in black,
tugging in nervous excitement at his
thin and straggling iron-gray beard,
"what's the Nevada Bank's reserve
its reserve?that's what I want to find
out?"
"Four millions, I think."
"And how is it invested?how is it in
vested?" He fairly gulped with eager
ness as he glued his eyes upon those of
the editor and awaited the reply:
"In United States bonds."
" Ah," he said, with a great sigh of
relief, "I'm gladolthat. Then"?here
ho looked all around to make sure there
were no listeners?"then you think a
TEffi-eOTM--tiafely iutriMV
to it?"
" Why, certainly. There is no safer
bank in the world. It has unlimited
backing."
Th/i lifflo nlil man filmekled nnd
took the editor's hand, which he shook
almost gleefully.
" You have done me a great favor,
sir," he exclaimed, " a great favor and
I shall not forget it."
It bothers you to be Bare that your
money's safe, I suppose, sir ?*' said the
editor with that respect in tone and
manner which every independent citi
zen instinctively assumes when address
ing a wealthy man.
" Well?er?no, not just yet. The
fact is," he cried with a burst of confi
dence, " I'm about to change my man
ner of life. I'm fifty-five to-day and
have formed a resolution that hence
forth I shall save my money instead of
spending it, as I have done from my
youth Up, and I have suffered consid
erable anxiety about where to put my
money when I get it. In point of fact,"
he went on, his cadaverous face beam
ing, "I am just now excessively hard
up, and if you could oblige me, sir, with
the loan of a dollar until I am started
.on my new caree. you would lay me un
der a heavy oblig. tion."
The editor staggered toward the
club in the corner, but when he turned
he was alone.? Virginia Cifrj (Nev.)
Chronic/a
Indians* I irst Sight of (he Ocean.
The Zuni chiefs were driven to the
New York Mutual boildiDg on Milk
street, and from the summit of the
marble tower, which is 185 feet from
the ground, they caught their first
! glimpso of Ihe ccean. On emerging
: from the tower upon the balcony which
j surrounds it Mr. Cashing pointed out
I into the bay, and informed the chiefs
tnat tne ocean was out mere. Amia
many exclamations of delight, they re
peated very many times: " Show a ha!"
which Mr. Cashing states is a superla
tive term, indicating tho most pro
found veneration and surprise.
At first they seemed a little dazed,
but as Foon as they realized that they
! were at length in the piesence of the
, much-longed-for "ocean of sunrise,"
they all fell simultaneously to repeat
1 ing, in a sing-song undertone, certain
prayers. These lasted several minute2,
and during their continuance they threw
to the winds handfulsof " prayer flour'
they had brought with them?a mixture
of fine sea eliells and white corn flour.
! Having compUtod their devotions, the
| chiefs commenced to expatiate upon
i what they saw around them, particular
; ly upon the tremendous extent of the
j pueblo of Boston.
Pointing to the lice of^tho horizon ol
i tho bay, tho chief of the five said
! "That is the black blue of the ocean,
I and that is the foam thrown up when il
j is angry. Wo have waited for manj
! generations to see this which our fatherf
! havo told us of. We now ^>e it. Pass
| ing wonderful tro the things we 6es
: here. On one sido thy ccean, and 01
I the other a world of houses. The whol<
! world is tilled with diflVrent tribes o
j men."?Boston Fast.
Us I5o} ?.
"Now, boys, when i ask you a ques
tion, yon musn't be afraid to speak rigb
out and answer me. When you lool
around and seo all the fino houses
farms and cattle, do you ever think wh<
pwns them all, now? Your fathers owi
them, do they not?"
"Yes, sir," shouted a hundred voices
" Well, where will your fathers be ii
twenty years from now?"
"Dead," shouted the boys.
"That's right. And who will owi
i all this property then?"
" Us boys I" shouted the urchins.
"Right. Now tell mc?did you eve:
in going along the street notice thi
i drunkards lounging around the salooi
. doors waiting for some one to trea
; them ? "
"Yes, sir; lots of them."
" Well, where will they bo in twent;
[ yearn from now?"
" Dead," exclaimed the boys.
"And who will be the drunkardi
xl- O It
? men:
"Us boys," shouted the snabaebec
, youngsters.?Inter Ocean.
t TilE BRITISH ARISTOCRACF.
I.ife l? I.on?Iou?'Hie (iililod VontU ol IIcl"
Bravia?Tlic Aristocratic Turn-Outn.
It ib not fashionable to rise early in
the West End, says a London letter tc
an American paper. The gentle people
of Belgravia and the squares spldom
begin the business of their lives, that is
the great work of seeking amusement,
until 1 o'clock in the day. Long before
that hour, it is true that many of the
younger, as well as the more sturdy,
scions of the noble houseB may have
had thsir gallops in the park, and as
eaily as 9 o'clock in the morning ropy
cheeked and strong-limbed misses,
whose habits and high hats tell of their
recent occupation, may be seen, having
I left their horses with grooms, returning
) in smartly appointed coupes. Bat by
l creneral consent the official hour of
; awaking and coming forth in all the
[ neighborhood from South Kensington
r toward tho Mall seems to be 1 o'clock
[ At that hour, in the height of the season,
tho people who find themselves in the
streets of tho West End of London may
be excused for forgetting that thero is
any want or poverty or hunger in the
, world. The bright sun of the clear
June day shines through tho broad
streets upon unnumbered carriages.
Here there is a pony phaeton saucily
dashing past a stately four-in-hand
coach; brotighams, coupes and visiting
equipages of all binds, brilliant with
fresh polish, gold and silver mounting,
and trim appointments of every 6ort
may be seen all about; and now and
then in the thrcng thero moves slowly
but steadily and with becoming dignity
the state carriugeof some old-fashioned
owner of great estates, an ancient namo
and many titles. There, high above
tho crowd of smaller vehicles, goes
ono which is in every way typical
of its kind. It is drawn by
four heavy horses, with all the
style of the best English stock,
and something of weight and size which
tells of a stronc Norman cross. The
harness npon them is heavy with gold
platos, which glitter in tho sun, and
as they toss their heads in play a light
white foam is streaked along their pam
pered necks. Far above them, seated
upon a canopy of rich brocade, is the
coachman. He, like the horses, is
heavy and well fed. His white pow
dered wig, as it flows out from under his
three-cornered gold-fringed hat, con
trasts well with the deep red of his neck
3nd face. Beside him rides a stately
lackey, whose duties are not obvious, un
less he be kept to display fine clothes,
while on a board far behind ttand two
footmen, creatures all too gorgeous for
daily use. To commence at their feet
and calves?probably tho most import |
I ant part of tbem?they have low buckled
i 6boes upon the former, and upon the
| latter the fioest of white silk stockings
j which show to the knee. Their brceches
; are of bright red plush, close fitting,
j their long waistcoats of light striped
| satin, and their gold-laced ami wide
] pocketed coats of darkest green. Tli6y,
< like tha coachman and his attendant,
j wear three-corned hats of green and
| gold, from under which flow their white
j wigs brought to a cue and tied with
| gay ribbons. So appareled they stand
straight upon their perch, rather <3i?
J daining than making use of the hand
straps by which thty are supposed to
steady themselves. Between them and
the coachman's seat?they are at least
i twelve feet apart?upon the most nicely
j adjusted springs the oblong body of the j
j coach swings from leather fastenings;
i it is rich with varnish, gold plate and
: armorial bearings It is open, tho in
; side cushioned with the heaviest of
satin, and the door padded with the same
material.
In this gorgeous equipage high up
above the street, so high, indeed, that
it seems almost as if she must have
used a step-ladder to get up, there sits
a woman. She is ycung and very beau
tiful, after the familiar English type.
! Fair, with wide open and rather list
; less blue eyes and a mass of light brown
i hair. Her dress is all white, of soft
I nun's cloth, clinging laces and the
I finest of lawns. Across her broad
rfe5ffiaeil--?Tine~liat fcaBg-sreat-pfcHaefr
i of white ostrich feathers, her gloves of
j undressed white kid are of the Spanish
| fashion and wrinkled almost up to her
i elbow. She is altogether a most striking
j figure, and on the theory that all women
; are well pleased when they attract a
great deal of attention, she ought to bo
very happy, for she and her grand car
riage of all those in the thiongof grand
carriages attract the most attention.
And yet she seems to be anything
but satisfied either with herself or the
rest of the world. Between her arched
eyebrows and around the corners of her
mouth there are lines of discontent,
6adly out of place upon the face of one
eo young and so surrounded. They do
not belie her feeling. Despite all the
wealth, all the luxury, all the magnifi
j cence, all the high station which are
i hers, she is neither contented nor
| happy.
The fair creature who sits in the ca:r
j riage of state high up on soft cushions
; has a story?one of the commonest in
' aristocratic England, in fact, a sort of
| every-day tale in cruel London?which
: in Irnnnjn t.r? mnnf. nf fho cmv nfV.Tmn.nt.fl
I cf the equipages about her. It may be
briefly told. She is the daughter of a
j noble dowager of great and ancient
| name bat poor estate. By the help of
j this thoughtful parent she was married
| to Lord H., a middle-aged gentleman
! of a sporting turn of mind and a fortune
| almost without limit. He needed some
i one to look well at tho end of the table.
! This is the excune bo made to his "set"
1 for getting married. Still bis girl wife
j pleased him for a time; and she began
j to show signs of affection for him.
! Then he tired of her and went alt:
i gether back to his old ways, not forget
| ting, however, to be polite to her. For
instance, thero was a breakfast at the
club and "one of the jolliest sets im
1 aginable." Tho meal commenced at
the usual hour?1 o'clock in the day?
and had continued until 5.30, not un
usual. It was still in progress; "the
j jolliest" was at its height, in fact, when
i Lord H.. rising, hurriedly cried out:
" By Jove, I'll have to be oil."
j "No! no! H.; don't leave us now,''
i cried his companion.
; 'Sorry, deuced sorry, but I must,"
j said his lordship. "Fact is, Lady H.,
J my wife, you know, li38 invited me to
t dine with her this evening?must keep
j appointment," and he hurried away.
| His friends laughed at the joke?they
; thought it was a joke-and agreed that
j "H.," for an old ono, was very at
| tentive. His wife may have thought
1! differently. She had not yet learned,
' as many another noble woman of Eng
I land has had to learn, the habit of
1 j finding consolation for an absent hus
. band in the whirl of extravagant so
I ciety.
Or course ehe will in time, or take
' j with her to the grave the pain and
; ! heart-burning which no pen can picture,
j which none but a neglected wife can
feel. In the meanwhile, however, she
"' must put a mask upon her face. It
! will not do on this bright morning to
| appear downcast or out of spirits. No
f ; UiiU lii libl ftJLiUW LUUU hUU LIUtt UUli CDCU
j her lord and master for the better part
1 of a week. All the gay world of the
! West End is about her. She must be
. j gay liko the rest. Bho is on her way
t: to a wedding reception; it would be
? | the worst of bad form to be anything
f | but all smiles at such a time, and so
j | she tries to smile.
1! Her grand coach approaches the great
j mansion at which she will be one of the
, most welcomed guests. The square in
! front of it is almost filled with dashing
equipages of every sort, Thesnn shines
brightly upon tho brilliant liveries oi
! the coachmen and footmon and upon
tho immense bouquets?"favors"?
which many of them wear for the oc
r casion. Room is made for her carriage.
3 It speeds to tho covered entrance with
! a flourish, the steps are let down ; with
t greatest deference the servants stand tc
do her bidding. She disappears behind
the silk-curtained, rose-scented portals
j to congratulate a newly made wife?one
of her own set.
s The total cost of the Afghan war is
now estimated at ?21,551,000, namely,
J ?17,551,000 for military operations and
I ?4,000,000 for frontior railways.
LIFE AT THE WHITE 110USF.
~~~
I How Husincsi Is Comluctcil nt the Nation'*
II carta unrterM.
i Wc find m the Washington Errnin</
> Star the following interesting deserip
> ticn of how business is now condnc^ed
i at the White House: The White House
i nnder the present administration is
truly a place of business, and is rnn on
) thorough business principles. President
i Aithur has set apart certain days of the
week for special purposes, and all the
i employes know that nothing can bo
, allowed to interfere with the regular
work for each day. One day in every
week tbe President has reserved for
himself. Few people can realize the
constant strain to which the President
is subjected. It is absolutely neces
sary that ho should have some relief
from the pressure which is brought to
bear upon him from morning until
midnight. President Garfield gavo
himself day and night to the duties
cf his office, and tho constant strain
on his nerves and strength told upon
him very apparently even in the short
time that he held the office. At first
Saturday was the day chosen by Presi
dent Arthur when he should seclude
himself from the crowd of sight-seers
and business callers who daily besiege
the White House, but as that day is the !
one whe:a Senators and Representatives
are most at leisure to look after affairs
which necessitate a call upon the Presi
dent (both houses ot Congress usually
adjourning over that day), he decided
upon Monday as "his" day. Tuesdays
and Fridays have long been "cabinet"
days. Members of Congress, however,
are received on these days from 10 until
12 o'clock. The latter hour is the timo
for the regular cabinet meeting.
Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays
are what are known as business days,
when thoso who have business to lay
before the President, or who merely
wiuh to see him and shake him
by the han d are received
from 11 till 1 o'clock. The
President generally breakfasts about ,
7:30 o'clock, lunches at 2, if the pres- v
sure of business allows him, and dines .
at 7:30 o'clock. About 4 o'clock he
goes out driving. During the evening ,
ho almost always has a number of call
ers, either personal, friends or officials,
with whom he has appointments. When
the last caller has departed the Presi- *
dent usually devotes several hours to
matters which he has set aside to be *
contidered at this time, or which have
been crowded over during the press of
the day. It is at this time a decision is .
reached on many matters of weight, in- .
eluding frequently impDrtant appoint
ments. The rules which have been laid ^
down in the White House are not devi
ated from except :in case of special ap
pointment. In fact, business is done ?
somewhat as it was under the Jackson ,
and Grant regimes. It will be ^
remembered that President Garfield's
private secretary, J. Stanley Brown, ,
acted in the same capacity for Presi- .
dent Arthur for a time. Owing to the
request of Mrn. Garfield that he should
take charge of and arrange certain pa
pers with a view to their use in the ?
biography of the late President he was
obliged to sever connection with the f
White House. Fred J. Phillips, a per- .
sonal friend of President Arthur, sue- 11
ceeded Mr. Brown. Although President 8
Arthur has a much smaller force of
assistants than his predecessors, the 8
work at the executive mansion is dis
pafohed with remarkable promptness 8
and accuracy. This is owing more, ^
perhaps, to the 6ignal abilities of Mr. a
Phillips than to anything else. He is v
a thorough man of business. The ?
President has implicit confidence in 8
him, and relies on him a great deal, k
and consequently Mr. Phillips succeeds &
in relieving him of much that would ^
otherwise occupy his time and annoy
him. The many callers whom he ^
is obliged to see are dis- r
posed of with rapidity and satisfaction, b
The hungry office-seeker is not lured
by a false hope, beoiuse of a disinclina
tion to say no, but he is told at once
wnetner tnere is any cnance lor mm or
not. When he is told no he under
?TaBaS'-it-t&^31taP_J30. Mr. Phillips*
timo is more than occlipigd^ ..He is
rushed, He has no relief and no tim?
for recreation. No matter how bus^. ?
he always has a pleasant word lor those ^
who approach him. He is not only
recognized as a thorough business man,
but as a thorongh gentleman. Mr.
Crump is the steward of the "White
House. He came there with Hayes,
and rendered valuable assistance during
the late President's illness. Mr. Crump
and the new French cook make the
President's dinner parties.
The President's doorkeeper, Charles
Loeffler, knows every person of any
prominence. He never forgets a face.
He is daily passed by crowds of people
det-irous of audience, but he knows
how to discriminate, and his phleg
matic temperament keeps him level
headed. He came with General Grant
Arthur Simmons has been the door,
keeper of the private secretary's office
since 18G6, and he is likely to remain
there for a good many years. Edgar
Beckley, doorkeeper of the reception
room, came with General Grant. There
are several messengers connected with
the office. The President's mounted
messengers, James Sheridan and Thos.
Dolan, are daily seen riding through
the street?. Albert, the driver, and
Jerry, the footman, must not be forgot
ten. They wero well known under
General Grant's administration, when
they looked well behind a fine
team. They didn't seem to take
much pride in President Hayes's turn
out. It is very doubtful if President
Arthur, who has a turnout befitting a
President, will allow his driver to hold
the reins in one hand and a large
umbrella in the other. There is one
man about the White House authorized ;
to make arrests, Sergeant Dinsmore.
Two other policemen are on duty at
night. A police officer was first placed
on duty there in 1864. Very little of
Sergeant Dinsmore'a time is occupied
with police duty, however. He and
them-hers, Messrs. Thomas F. Pendle
who came with Lincoln, and J. T
Rickard, have about as much as they
can attend to in receiving callerp, and
showing what can be seen and answer
ing innumerable questions.
A Supreme Court Judge's llobby.
Judge Blatchford, the last appointee
to the United States supremo court,
is known to all the second-hand book
stall keepers and jnnk dealers in New
York, not as the richest and most in
dustrious judge on any bench, but as
the man who collects old almanacs.
This whimsical pursuit is almost a
mania with Judge Blatchford. From
the stateliest nautical almanacs down to
the humblest patent medicine annual,
nothing with the signs of the zodiac I
and the phases of tho moon is foreign
to his tastes. When he was practicing
at the bar he was largely concerned
with admiralty cases, and a series of
almanacs is part of the equipment of
the library of every admiralty lawyer.
This was the origin of Mb specialty. He
has new on hand the largest and most
varied lot of old almanacs in tho corn
try, if not in the world. He has ran
sacked Nassau and Ann streets for years
with such industry that it is a rare
, thing for him to find an almanac or cal
endar not already in hiii collection.?
New York Letter.
Amending: the Reports.
, Our jContinent proposes that the
prosy Congressional Record be occasion
ally varied with rhymiDg paraphrases of
the honorable members' speeches
' something, for instance, after this style:
i Then up rose Smith, of Florida, the best of the de
haters,
And spoke about His measure for protecting allij*a-;
tors;
lie showed how tourists shoot at them without re
gard for reason,
i An 1 asked to have it made a crime to kill thrm out
of season.
Then Brown he moved amendment hy insenme n
l rlnrwo _
[ Compelling alligators not to operate their jaws;
But Smith he up and said of him who thought the
I subject comical,
) That nature, when she gave him sense, had been too
economical.
And Brown, responding briefly, wished to say in
this connection,
That Smith, in guarding reptiles, had an eye to nelf
' protection;
, Then Smith he flung a rolume of the Message and
I Reports,
1 And Brown was laid upon the floor a good deal^out
of 8ort?
The Substitute Editor.
" Who is that ead-looking man whom
I saw sitting in the next room as I
came through?*' said Mr. Jones to the
managing editor.
" That? That is Larson, our substi
tute editor."
What is a?what are the functions
of that kind of an editor?"
" Why, you know, wo employ Lawson
to shoulder disagreeable consequences
of all kinds. When we 4 go for ' nny
bedy until outraged nature cati no
longer 6tand it, the injured man calls
and we show him in and let him kick
Lawson."
" But I don't exactly understand
how?"
" Why, you Fee, the man comes here
and asks to see the managing editor.
The boy at the door knows, from the
fire in his eye, what he wants and he
turns him into Lawson'a room. There
is a brief scrimmage, and about a quar
ter of an hour later Lawson saunters in
hero with Lis handkerchief to his nose
to say that his salary really must be
raised. He is a very nsefnl man. By j
concentrating all the Btorms on him
the regular stall is allowed to nave per
fect pence and security. He is cowhided
once or twice a week, and knocked
down even oftener. We have the floor
in thero padded on purpose to make it
as comfortable as possible. He don't
mind an ordinary flogging so much, but
the man has a strange disinclination to
be shot at; possibly because ho has
:hree bnllets in his legs and a two-ounce
dug encysted somewhere in his interior
iepartment.
"But Las son don't mind his ordi
nary duties as much as you would
;hink. We turn in all the bores upon
aim. He commands a large salary be
:ause he is deaf as a post, and a bore
vho would set me crazy leases him in
i condition of unruffled calmness. All
,he poets who come here are sent to his
oom, One of them'll sit there and
ead to Lawson a poem in forty-two
itanzas, and Lawson'll sit there smiling
>landly, just as if he heard it all, and
ie'11 compliment the writer and bow
lim and his manuscript out wi^ charm
Dg grace and ease. He mekes mis
akes sometimes, to be sure. The other
lay a man read him a speech whioh the
nan wanted to pay for inserting in the
)aper. Lawson thought it was a poem,
ind he told the man, in the usual for
nula, that he wa9 sorry our advertising
fas pressing us so just now that we
rtnirln'f nhlitro him and t.hft man went
ip the street and published it in the
Icrald A dead loss to us of about
orty dollars ; but Lawson is too valu
.ble to be discharged for a single blun
ter like that.
" Whenever there's an excursion on
i dangerous part of a new railroad, or a
rial trip of a steamboat that we are
[oubtfal about, we always send Law
on to represent the staff. He has been
down up twice on the river and has
teen dropped eight times through a de
ective trestle-bridge, besides participate
ng in a couple of boiler explosions. He
eceives all the champion cabbages, gi
gantic turnips and remarkable eggs
bat are sent here by subscribers for
lotice, and he tests all the giant cucum
>ers and early watermelons that come
a. We could bardly run this office
afely if we didn't have Lawson."
" He struck me as looking rather low
pirited."
"Ho he is. He has naturally a
trong constitution; but he is gradually
freaking down under the strain, I am
fraid, and is going to die early. It
reifjhs on his mind. He had a terrific
ight with an indignant politician last
ummer just after he had tested a bas
;et of rather anripe cantaleupes, and I
lave noticed that he has been some
what gloomy ever since."
Just then the subdued noise of an al
ercation was heard in the adjoining
oom; there was a pistol shot and a
ullet came whizzing through tie par
ition, passing close to Mr. Jonet' head.
" What's that?" asked Jones.
" Lawson's having a tussle with Mc
lvaine, candidate for common council.
Vo cut Mcllvaine up in to-day's issue,
thought he'd call. Boy !'* exclaimed
be editor, " run for a policeman !"
Then the sounds died away and ten
linutes later, when Mr. Jones went out,
e saw the policeman and two other
lerfC&liying Lawson to the hospital
n a stretchy whereupon the manag
og editor saidf "x
"We'll have to let fiJLon Mcllvaine
Dr a day or two till Lawaofl time to
ecuperate."? Our Continent. -.
El ctric Toners.
Among the serious olnUoles tha
ncoanter the plan of securing illumini
ioa oil a grand scale by means of pow
irfnl electrio lamps raised on lofty
owers, are the expense aDd diffionlty of
recting such towers, and the awkward
less of the machinery required to lower
he lamps for trimming and returning
hem to their lofty position. To do
way with the latter difficulty entirely
,nd to materially lessen the former are
he objects of a light tower invented by
Villiam Golding, of New Orleans, of
?hich the Scientific American furnishes
in illustrated description:
!tfr. Golding dispenses with stagings
md the usual machinery of tower build
Dgs, and raises his tower into the air
jy additions made at the bottom. The
,ower is a cast-iron cylinder, built up
)f short sections, and kept vertical
while in process of erection and after
ward by means of guys. The top sections
:o which the lamps aro to be perma
nently attached, are put together first,
md by means of an ordinary derrick
ire set vertically over a hydraulio press
placed upon the intended foundation of
the tower. The hydraulic lift raises
the top section until a new section, say,
Sve feet long, can bo set underneath.
While the lift is returning to ad
mit a new section, the raised tower
is held in position by a clamp and
A f lUrt /??tra
ftopu veinutti uj uicnuo ui uuo gujo.
When the new section has been
securely bolted on tho whole is lifted
another length; and thus by successive
lifts and additions at the bottom the
tower is raised until the required alti
tude is attained. Each section of the
tower will be bored out before it is put
in place, and have a diameter sufficient
to allow the easy passage of a circular
platform carrying the lamp trimmer,
who will bo lifted to the top of the
tower by means of a piston operated by
compressed air supplied by pumps or a
rotary blower. The inventor thinks
that tho pressure need never exceed
half a pound to tho square inch. The
cost of a 500 feet tower complete (with
out the lamps) raieed in the way de
scribed is estimated at about $30,000.
Tne project of erecting such a tower
for the purpose of illuminating the
crescent-shaped water front of New
Orleans is beine agitated.
The Barber's Criticism.
It is related of Mr. Longfellow that
when his poem of "The Village Black
smith" was going through the press he
read the first two stanzas to a hair
dresser in Cambridge. The barber
criticised the first line of the second
stanza, "His hair is crisp and black and
long," by sajing that crisp black hair
is never long. Mr. Longfellow was
struck with the merit of this criticism,
and instructed his publisher to substi
tute the word "strong" for "long" in
that line. The next day, however, he
reconsidered tho matter, and sent his
publisher a note in which ho said : "I
wrote you yesterday to have the word
'long' changed to 'strong' in 'The Vil
lage Blacksmith.' The word 'strong'
occurs in the preceding line, nnd tho
repetition wculd be unpleasant. It
had, therefore, better fctand as.it is,
notwithstanding the hairdresser's crit
icism, which, after all, is only techni
cal, for hair [can bo both crisp and
long."
Tho first two stanzas of tho poem aro
as follows:
L ncier a ?i>reaiiinc cne?innt tree
Tho village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is hp,
With inrtrc and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arm?
Are strong as iron bunds.
His hair is crisp and black and long,
IHb facc is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
Ho earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the facc,
For he owes not any man.
WILL STREET SPECULATORS.
How Fortune* nrc T.ont by I.'nMopbWtlcatrri
People Wlio Tliluk TUf y have "Point"."
It would be laughable were it not so
melancholy, says a New Ibrk corre
spondent, to narrate the numberless
cases of men \*ho, suddenly esalted
from tbeir humble spheres of plodding
work to money-making Wall street
operators, built goldon castles in the
air?alas! to see them so tioon and so
cruelly dispelled. People abandoned
their legitimate occupations and flocked
to the city in hundreds, hovering over
tho omnipresent sfccck-ticker, and
thinking they were on the road to in
dependence and riches, casting already
about in their minds where they woold
take their next summer jannt in Eu
rope, whether they would havo light
cream-colored horses, or Bteeds of a
rich, dark bay; imagining themselves
installed in fine, showy houses,
with liveried servants and all
the paraphernalia of weaitn.- j.
particularly remember, for its sadly
ludicrous end, the experience rf the
olerk of a small summer hotel in Now
England, whose acquaintance l>no
made during a flying midsummer trip.
He was a nice, modest fellow, but very
inexperienced and much too guileless
and confiding for this wicked world of
ours. What was my astonishment when
one evening I saw the young man sitting
at Delmonico's and picking his teeth
after an elaborate dinner?for I could
observe the remnants of various ex
pensive courses and an empty claret
and champaigne bottle were on the
table. He came up to me with a smile
of intense satisfaction, and (as I thought
at the time) with considerable conde
scension extended to me his hand.
"How are you?" 6aid I, civilly
" "What are you doing in New York ?"
" I'm down in Wall street," said he,
with airy lightness, and sat down bo
side me, stretchiLg out wide his legs
with the manner of a capitalist who is
on ad mirable terms with himsel f. ' 'I'm
no longer in the hotel business.'"
He went on to inform me that he was
making money very fast, and that he
wondered he had be n a fool for ever
degrading his talents to the lowly du
ties of a hotel clerk when a fortune
lay ready wailing for him in Wall street.
"How long do you mean to stay in
New York?'' I asked, casually.
"Not long," said he; "I guess I'll
be going to Paris next month (this was
last spring) and stay thore till October,
and then come back to spend the win
ter in Florida. No more hotel busi
ness for me I I'm going o h ave some
fun now for my money."
I left him and said to myself: " How
cruelly they will Bhear this poor lamb!"
I first thought of advising him to sell
at once and put his money safely away,
bat l Knew I would only oe laugnea at
as an old granny. Bnt I often won
dered what had become of hioi after
the great decline had set in last sum
mer. A short time ago I was riding.
np on the elevated railroad, and as I
was putting my tioket in the little box
which is at the entrance gate, I heard
myself addressed by the gateman, who
is placcd beside the box to see that all
the tickets are dropped in. Yes, it was
my old friend whom I had last seen at
Delmonico'u. He had boen "cleaned :
out" completely, and after being j
almost on the verge of starvation, j
had secured the place of a
gateman at 81.25 per day of
fourteen hours. This was his expe
rience in Wall street. Another ease
wa3 a much sadder one, for it involved
an old man who will have but little
chance to repair the ruin his specula
tions have wrought. He "belongs to one
of the learned professions, in which be
has achieved a certain degree of dis
tinction. Last Bummer, and evendown
to last fall, he was hopeful, sanguine,
perfectly giddy with the prospects he
saw dazzling before him. Like every
body else be had a new road somewhere
in the West running from Oahkosh to
Poshkosh in his vest pocket. " He was
going to make a million," to quote his
own words, "if he was going to irako a
dollar." I met him the other day, and
was much struck by the change in his
appearance. His hair, whies previ
ously was slightly tinged with gray,
i?s i ?l ?
liUU UUUUUit) LULLIU5U cumpicujr r? IJ1LD.
There were terrible, deep lines about
his eyes and mouth, and a look of touch
ing, almost despairing sadness stole out
of his formerly placid and genial eyes.
He had lost everything ho had in the
world, and had swept with him into the
ruin ^hia wife, his children and his
home. WorBt of all, he had borrowed
money from friends, in the vain attempt
tovretrieve his misfortunes and to re
spond'- to Iba ince3sa;it brokers' calls
for more arid more " margins," and was
heavily in debV Everything was gone, i
and ho spoke as^fclymgh not only his >
fortune, but all his Bcge and couragd 1
in life had been utterly destroyed. And .
Goethe pays: "Courage lost, eferythinr I
lost; better that thou hadst novel been
born!"
Deadheads in Newspapers.
It is well said by Forney's Progress [
that in proportion to the expense in- i
volvcd in its preparation no article is !
so cheaply supplied as tho newspaper. :
Its cost to its readers is as near nothing <
as it could well be, and to make a !
living profit to its owners it must look i
elsewhere for a revenue than to its sub
scription list. That in many establish
ments is a positive loss, regarded by
itself, but the circulation attracts the
advertiser, and the advertiser furnishes
the sinews of war. To get the adver
tiser you must first get the circulation, J
and to get the circulation you must j
give the people a paper that will inter- j
est and please them. Every linn which 1
a newspaper publishes fon any other t
reason than that its editor thinks it i
contains something the people wish j
to know, is more or less au in-;
jury to him, because it oc
cupies space which otherwise would [
be filled with matter which
would aid in building up or retaining
the popularity of his journal. To this
nrlA^A fhfl nnaf. /if vmffinc til A
IUUOU UD auucu UUW v/vsow v* , .
"puff' in typo, and the other outlays it I
requires. Tho wise newspaper proprie- j
tor limits the number of columns to !
which he will admit advertisements, or ;
increases his columns to accommodate a '
rash, knowing that to crowd the read- j
ing matter, though it may temporarily
make happy tho heurt of his rashier, j
means speedy and permanent ruin.
Yet there is not a newspaper in the'
country which does not give away in
the course of the year many columns
of its valuable space?a trite, but true
expression?and more than that, places
these gratis notices in positions which
the money of tho legitimate adverti er,
paid down over the counter, could not
| bu7
I AScIkirc to C'J nrge the lYrailur.
' One of the latest of tho big fcbcmes
on puper is to chango tho climate of
North America. The man who suggests
this audacious idea is neither a poet nor
a creature of financial nightmares, but
a solid geologist, Professor Shaler, of
Harvard university. The points of this
interesting scheme may be summarized
as follows:
Once upon a time the Japanese cur
rent flowed through BehrinR's straits
into tho Arctic occan. Then the
straits were wider tiian they are now,
because forces, no lorger (xisting,
caused the coast to rise gradually.
Tho result of tho narrowing process
was the interrnption of the warm cur
rent and the consequent reduction of
the entire northern part cf this conti
nent to an icy waste. This section of
the continent feels the effect of the
change, too, as -far as our frequent
blizzards attest. That Greenland was
more habitable somw centuries ago than
now is an historical fact. The thing to
do is to make an artificial channel
"through tho straits so that tbe warm
current may pass toward the pole
again. Such an achievement would re
claim a vast stretch of land, giving
North America a delightful climate, for
not caly would ro:igh winter be a thing
of tho past, but the tierce heats of tho
American summers would be tempered.
Professor Sbaler thinks that tho great
work could bo accomplished if civil
ized nations would unite in giviDg to
I tho work the men, money and energy
I now expended in fightiDg each other.
Character of the Chinese JTew.-paper.
To begin with the ordinary anil nu
morons decrees acknowledging the
good eerviccs of deities : "The gover
nor general of the Yellow river," pays
the Gazette of November, 1878, "re
quests that a tablet may be pnt np in
bonor of the river god. He states
that dnring the transmission of relief
rice to Honan, whenever difficulties were
encountered through shallows, wind or
rain the river god interposed in the
most unmistakable manner, so that the
transport of grain went on without
hindrance. Order: Lot the proper
office prepare a tablet for the temple of
the river god."' "A memorial board is
granted," Eays the Gazette of April,
1880, "to two temples in honor of the
god of locusts. On the last appear
unco ui iouuHis ia mat pruvmctj iuai
j summer, prayers were offered to this
deity with marked success." February,
1880. A decree ordering the imperial
college of inscriptions to prepare a
tablet to be reverently suspended in
the temple of the sea dragon at Hoy
gan, which has manifested its divine
interposition in a narked manner in
response to prayers for rain. In another
Gazette the director general of grain
transports prays that a distinction be
granted to the god of winds, who pro
tected the dikes of the grand canal,
wherenpon the board of rites is called
upon for a report. Also the river
god is recommended for protecting
a fleet carrying tribute rice; and the
god of water gets a new temple by
special rescript. In fact decrees of
this kind, which merely convey public
recognition of services rendered by the
state gods, appear in almost every issue
of the Gazette. The following degrees
refer to the process of qualification for
divine rank: " The governor of
Anwhei forwards (November, 1878) a
petition for the gentry of Ying Chow,
praying that sacrifices may be offered
to the late famine commissioner in
Honan, in the temple already erected to
the memory of his father. The father
had been superintendent of the grand
transport, and had greatly distinguished
himself in operations against some
rebels. The son had also done excellent
service, aad the local gentry had heard
of his death with great grief. They
earnestly pray that sacrifices may be
offered him as well as to his father.
Granted." "A decree issued (May,
1878,) sanctioning the recommendation
that a temple to Fah Tsung, a states
man of the Mint? dvnastv. mav be
placed on the list of those at which the
officials are to offer periodical ligations. I
The spirit of the deceased statesman
has manifested itself effectively on
several occasions when rebels have
threatened the district town, and has
more than once interposed when prayers
have been offered for rain."?Fori
niyhlly Review.
In the Early Mining Days.
In some reminiscences of mining life,
written by Prentice Mulfoid for the
San Francisco Chronicle, occurs the fol
lowing: After this I borrowed a rocker
and started to washing somo liver bank
gravel. It took me several days to be
come in any degree skilled in the use of
the rocker. I had no teacher and was
obliged to become acquainted with all
its peculiarities by myself. First I set
it on a dead level. As it had no "fall"
the sand would not run out. But the
hardest work of all was to dip and pour
water from the dipper on the gravel in
the sieve with one hand and rock the
cradle with the other. There was a
constant tendency on the part of the
hand and arm employed in ponring to
go through the motion of rocking, and
vice versa. The hand and arm
that rocked was more in
clined to go through the
motion of pouring. I seemed cut up
in two individuals, between whom ex
isted a troublesome and perplexing
difference of opinion as to their re
spective duties and functions. Such a
conflict, to all intents and purposes, of
iwo different minds inside of and act
ng on ono body, shook it up fearfully
and tore it all to pieces. I was as a
house divided against itself and could
not stand. However, at last the physi
cal and mental elements thus warring
with each other inside of me inade up
their differences, and the left hand
rocked the cradle peacefully while
the right hand ponred harmonious
ly, and the result was about 81.50
per day. * * * *
Such was my inauguration into mining
at Hawkins' Bar. What glorious old
times they were! What independence !
What freedom from the trammels and
conventionalities of fashion! Who
cared or commented if did turn up
the bottoms of our pantaloons or wear,
for coolness sake, our flannel shirts out
side the trousers ? Who then was so
onfiwiStf-plfie. when
anyi^&'mightetriko it rich to-rfiOflQW?
\71io would beg for work or truckle anit
/awn and curry favor of an employer
for tbe mere sake of retaining a situa
tion and help that same man to make
money, when he could shoulder pick,
shovel and rocker, go down to the
river's edge and make his two or three
dollars per day ? Though even at
tbak time thic reputed S3 was oftener
81,50 ______
The Pork King.
Mr. Armour, known on every prod
uce exchango in this country as "Phil
Armour," but who modestly styles him
self the "honest butcher," is competent
to speak on perk. Whether it be in the
buying and killing of hogs, or in the
metamorphosiug of the vulgar Anglo
Saxon "hog" into the more elegant ana
popular product yclept, through the
influence of one's Norman French an
cestors, "pork;" whether it be in the
exporting of product or in the exercise
of that diplomacy with which in
these latter days an American pack
er must be equipped in order to
cope with his wily French rivals?
in all mil armour is ittcuu pnuwp
among the makers of pork. Qver a
million of hogs were killed at his Chi
cago packing-house last vi ar, over half
a million more at his packing-house in
Kansas City, aDd several hundred
thousand more at his establishment at
Milwaukee. He killed more porkers?
a half million more?within the last
twelve months than both Cincinnati
and St. Louis put together. Twenty
five millions of his money were
distributed in the corn belt of this
country for live hogs last year. He sits
in his office on Washington street in
i Chicago, and every day talks .over the
wires with his own employss it Lon
' don, Liverpool, Antwerp, Copentagen,
j Havre, Hamburg, and with hundreds
| of them distributed through the South
ern States, with his partners at his
; bank in Kansas City, with his partners
at New York and Milwaukee. When
j he believes in pork, ho buys not'only
! tucli as i3 within easy roach, but every
; barrel and pound of meat that is for
' sale in the world. Having bought it,
he sells it, not to the great speculators
j in this country and abroad, bat bim
: self distributes every pound of it with
j his own distributing machinery?the
1 most elaborate in the world?to the
| pork eaters in the Southern cotton
i States, in the manufacturing districts
o,f England and France, the agricul
tural sections of Germany, the lumber
regions of the North. In 1879 Mr. Ar
I mour was the owner of practically every
j barrel of pork in the world. Within the
j next year he had sold R all for consnmp
! tion. His speculation netted him, it is
i said, $7,000,000.?Chicago Nmrs.
Coming Canals.
The New York thinks that
' while railroads have put and end to the
i digging of short canals the great canals
I of the world that remain to be made
are: 1. Through the Isthmus of P-ina
! ma; 2 Through the neck of the Malay
I peninsnlar; 3. From the Upper Nile to
I the Red Sea; ? Through the peniusu
i lar Schleswig-LIolstein ; 5. From the
j head of the Bay of Fuady to the Gulf
of St. Lawrence; 6. From Lake Win
nipeg to Hudson B.iy.
Tho difference between a person in
his lirst childhood an 1 his sceotd
childhood is this: la his first childhood
ho cuts his teeth; in his second child
hood the teeth cut him.?Lrnccl
Courier.
FACTS AND COMMENTS.
Snicide is increasing in the German
arm/, caused by disappointment in love.
Napoleon I., noticing ihiu peculiarity
in bis army, issued a proclamation or
dering the soldiei3 " to subjugate the
passious of grief and melancholy" be
cause " to destroy one's self in order to
escape distress of mind, is equivalent
to running away from the battlefield
because one has been beaten." If Na
poleon bad only ordered the young
women not to throw their lovers ovei, he
would have pleased his soldiers better,
and probably accomplished more.
The New York Medical society has
agreed that of the three anaetheticd
most in use, nitrous oxydo gas?laugh
ing gas?is the safest, only one death
in 300 flflfl lifirin.r nonnrrrwl from i*a
tne. There was some difference of opin
ion as to tho relative tarmlesenees of
ether and chloroform, with a majority
in favor of the former. Ether, how
ever, is not suited to persons who f<unt
easily, habitual drunkards, those who
drink a little every day, to persons who
suffor from fatty heart or lixited lung
action, or to aged persons.
A geLcleman living in Ottawa, Can
ada, is having wooden houses construct
ed in Toronto in sections, of a tize a \
mitting their transportation on ordinary
flat cars. These sections are to be taken
to Winnipeg or other places in Mani
toba, and ercctcd there on Jots, some of
which are owned by the speculator and
others of which are to be rented. The
parts are to be substantially built, and
on arriving at their destination a few
hours' work will put them together,
and the oak pin3 with which the sec
tions aie joined are easily driven. It is
calculated that in one and a half days'
a dwelling 18x21), with kitchen 12x14
attached, can be put in readiness for
occupation.
One of the most remarkable criminal
trials in Indian history ended at Dead
wood, Dakota, with the conviction of
Grow Dog for the killing of Spotted
Tail at the Rosebud agenoy in August
last The victim was chief of the
Brule Si dux, had been so favored by
government that other savages were jeal -
ous, and the assassination, for it was
nothing else, is supposed to have been
part of a conspiracy t-> put Black Crow
at tho head of the tribe. Both Crow
Dog and Black Crow were at once ar
rested and held for trial under United
States laws, the latter as accessory, and
th'S prompt action is said to have avert
ed a desperate struggle among the sav
ages. The case has caused great ex
citement among the Indians at the
Rosebud agency, and it is to be hoped
that the application of civilized laws
and justice will have a salutary effect.
In exciting the emotions the imagina
tion phys a conspicuous part. A shud
der could be sent around the World unj
morning by a telegram frcm London
annonncing that 250 people had beeq
burned to death or drowned in the
Thames or crushed by a falling build
ing, or torn to pieces by an explosion.
Yet 252 people were hilled by being ran
over last year in London streets, and
the statement arouses only a vague
feeling of serious interest These
deaths, in all probability, involved in
the aggregate as much physical suffer
ing as a fire or an explosion, a collision
or a tailing building would cause; as
many sudden shocks to the friends and
.relatives, as much bereavement and as
much destitution. Yet, because they
are killed as single spies, not in bat
talions, there is no horror and little
sympathy felt. More than half of these
deaths were causod by wagons, drays
and carts, forty-four by omnibuses and
street cars, the remainder by cabs, car
riages and horses.
Jennie Jane sayp, in a New York lei
ter, that the estate of A. T. Stewart is
gradually selling oat its manufacturing ^
establihhments throughout the country,
and that the great store on Broadway
will soon be relinquished or passed
over to other hands. Jadge Hilton
does not like the details of trade, and
sees no glory in the future that has not
already been reached by this famous
house. To have taken such a step at '
once icpuld have brought ruin upon
thousands; to do it gradually, -allowing,
it to pass from one iato many hands,
can hardly seriously incommode any.
There was a time when the loss of A.
T. Stewart's dry goods store would have
been looked upon as a personal misfor
tune, not only by women in New York,
but throughoat the entire ccuntry. A.
T. Stewart was the first man in the
trade in this country to adopt fixed
prices, and it might doubtless be said
in the world, since the New York sys
tem has compelled the adoption of the
same rule of late years in Paris and
London. He also regulated prices and
kept them jit a moderate standard for a
quarter of a century, during which lime
*? l? ? 11 _ . fIto mqrbof
ne prucuciiiij tuauu' ^ ?...
A Chicago young man worife- ?5,000
or S6.000 went oat to Denver about 6
year ago, and having a fair complexion,
a high voice and nothing better to do,
dressed himself up in woman's gar
ments and finally secured a placo as a
house servant. Falling in love with
the cook, he told his secret and pro
posed marriage. The two left Denrer,
made a tour of Nebraska, and regis
tered as coasins at various hotels. They
were finally suspected and disappeared,
each obtaining a separate situation as
servants. He deserted her, and her
rage and disappointment revealed the
strange adventures. She had a note
from him asking her to meet him a
few miles out of town, on the River
Platte A constable went with her,
but when the east bank of tho river was
reached a human object wan seen on
the opposite side waving a hat in the
left hand. The creature was pursued
down the river until it, she or he dis
appeared so mysteriously that not evtn
a trail could be found. Tho young
woman insisted on committing suicide,
but tho constable insisted still mere
ttrongly on her going back to town with
him and she consented.
Xot That Kind of a Doctor Siiop.
Old Bill.McGammon, who keeps a
grocery store in ihe suburbs of Austin,
is one ol tue closest men in tue estate
of Texas, and abbreviates his words in
writing. He abbreviated the names on
the drawers and boxes of the contents
in his grocery, instead cf painting the
names in full. For instance, he
painted on the sugar barrel, "I3r
Sugar," for brown sugar, and so on.
Last Tuesday a feeble-looking
stranger dropped into Bill McGamm-ra's
store and after looking around, asjjpd:
" Is Dr. Prunes in V''
Old McGammon stared, and said he
reckoned not.
" [s Dr. Codfish in, then 1" asked the
stranger.
"No, he is not," said old McGammon,
emphatically.
"Then teli Doctor Cherries I would
like to see him, if he is at leisure."
"You get out of here. I believe you
have escaped from the lunatic asylum.
This ain't no raedicino college; this is
a grocery," retorted old McGammon,
getting red in the face.
"If this is a grocery, tben yon had
better carry back them doctors' signs to
where you stole them from," responded
the stranger, strolling out.
Old McGammon looked where the
stranger had pointed, and for the first
time noticed the result'of his abbrevia
ting the ^ord "dried" into "Dr.,'* for
on the drawers h? read, in large letters:
ur. rtuiiCT, ui. j- tui-uvi , ww- ....... ,
Dr. Cherries ; Dr. Peas ; Dr. Apples ;
Dr. Beef. ? T> run *> f' >?i*.
Tbo active Indian wars of the last ten ?
years have cost the country 85,058.821,
and duriDg the f-arne time the bill for
watching the red men has amounted to
3223.891 2(51. General Sherman says
that the army now numbers 23,785 men
and 2,000 oilicsrs, 18 529 of whnm are
i west of the Mississippi, leaving 5,25f3 to
1 snard the eastern country. Abont
four-fifths of the expenditures from the
annual army appropriations, says the
I general, have boon made on the Indian
account since 1872,
J