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ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER. I BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WABDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1882. NO. 16. VOLUME XXVII. .-1M " Cold!" They say that she is cold, but they say what they do not. cannot know. The very flowers that hang from the grille of spring were growing under the snow. Is the violet cold that it shrinks from the {raze and the touch of the herd? Is the song of the thrush, though it is not permitted to fondle the bird? They often love fondest, love surest, who never betray the emotion. I could tell you of one whom she loves with a passion as deep as the ocean. It is true that, in words, she has never confessed to the feeling: Love chooses a daintier way fur its choicest and sweetest revealing. Never once has he touched her lips with his : own, never once caressed her handHe might ki<s and caress to his heart's content would he only understand! "Cold ! Cold !" Did he know all her heart j as they flippantly say it, Ho would leap with his might at the falsehood I to throttle and stifle and slay it. Some time he will know what to-day what he would barter his life to be knowing? j Not, perhaps, till the roses and daisies above ! her are budding and blowing. She may die with the weight of her delicate ; secret upon he; ; Then may God charge His angels to crown j her with Heavenly blessing and honor ! I So they who were made to be lovers, alas! j they are nothing but friends; He dare not, she will not?behold, for the j want of a word how it ends! Well, the case is, atjeast no marvel, the story is common and old; Mourn over it, sneer at it, which yon will, I but you shall not say she is cold ! ?Anson G. Chester, in Our Continent. HIS TRUST When Mr. Tom Rainger, who do-1 scribed himself as a traveling photic j graphic artist, was nut on tlu* road, ho s lived absolutely alone in an humble cottage on a wide patch of land adjoining Thornton Common, a high, wide stretch of grassy ground, and a place much resorted to in the summer. The village of Thornton, from which the common took its name, was seven - miles from the nearest country town, it was a meek little village with an old-fashioned parsonage, an unpretending church, a school-house, a forge and a public house, called the Three Jollv Boys. Tn rnfnrn ATr T???inrror wl?r?n lirt was not at home he lived on wheels; that is to say he journeyed round the country in a kind of cart-house. He traveled mostly in the winter, finding through the warm weather no stint ol' people in Thornton willing to pay from a sixpence to a shilling to see their face, reproduced by the artist's glass. Besides being an artist, our friend was a musician. lie re;dly played the violin skillfully, and between fiddling and photographing he got on quite well. At the time of which 1 am writing he was a middle-aged man, strongly ( built and rather slwrt of stature, ilis weather-face had on it a look of weari-1 ness, and also of resolution. Other j things than the s\m and the wind had had their will with that face. A life's | tragedy had scarred it deeper than j ever the elements could. Ilis scant j hair was iron gray. Tom Kainger I was not popular in the village. He would sit for hours at the Three Jolly i Boys, smoking and speaking to no one. When he did talk there was something overbearing and aggressive 4r? liiu m?irm or TTo npvor wpnt tii I church, but lie might often be seen coming out of the churchyard, where, under the grass and tlowers, lay what had once been "thedesire of his eyes" ?his friend, his companion, his good angel, nis wife. " It was the loss of her," said the landlady of the Three Jolly Boys, j " that turned him sour, as thunder j turns milk sour." After live years of happiness her fresh gay voice, the blue light of her ; eyes and the light gold of her hair and all the dear caressing ways, she had gone out of his life and left him, as we have seen, a soured man. One midsummer's eve, a time to become memorable henceforth in Mr. IKainger's life, that gentleman sat in ! the bar-parlor of the Three Jolly Boys, j It was a club night, anil having for j the benefit of the Jolly 1 Joys performed : twice on his violin, he put the instru-1 inent away, and shouldering his case,1 and with his pipe set fast between his teeth, passed from the mixed fumes of \ tobacco and spirits into the clear, moonlit night. The Jolly Boys were ! hard at it when lie left them, but the i sound of their jollity was soon behind him; the common was about a mile j from the village. It was a warm, luminous night.; Every leaf and every twig of every j tree was distinctly visible, such a j power of moonlight was ou everything, j A note faltered through the warm, j compassionate stillness. Then from a | clump of trees a nightingale began j singing. There were hot tears in Rainger's j eyes as he walked along. It seemed to him as if the moonlight, the warm air, the singing bird, had some nies- j I sage from his dead wife?a message ! which he could not interpret. Ah, j with what a passion of worship he i thought of her! When lie reached the cottage, instead of entering it, he passed on to the j common, where moonlight and unhro-, ken stillness reigned. Standing there, it came to him to take out his violin and | to begir playing with all the expression of which he was capable, and he had no small measure, " The Last Kc.se of Summer." It was one of the airs his wife liked best to hear him play. Under his hand, which then j seemed to acquire the very master's j touch, the music rose and quivered and floated far away. He wondered if beyond the moonlight she heard it. All his heart was intent on this when he heard a sound which made him start. It was the sound of feet hurrying as if one were running a race for life. In another second or two,! with a low cry, something caught bis hand and dropped at his feet; then a j girl's voice said, in a whisper of terror: " Save me! hide me! they will find :< wi.ut' ... ?* I Jill" 11 >UU ?IVU V. AIIV-J (U V' IVUVMlil^ j me, I know!" Rainger raised the girl, and, acting on impulse, led her to his cottage. As they walked along she said: "As I was running I heard you calling me. That was you, wasn't it V " It was my music you heard," he answered. "Your music?" she repeated, simply. " I don't know what that is." Just then they reached the humble cottage, with its wholesome garden of sweet-smelling tlowere. Kainger struck a light, then he turned and looked at his companion. lie started back with an involuntary cry; for, in tin* girl fronting him, he seemed to see his wife again?the same shape of face, the same light of gold hair, the same soft, blue eyes, only in these there was a strange pleading, questioning look? a look which seemed to say: " "Where am IV Oh, save me!" lie came near and his hand fell on her shoulder. He started again, for the shoulder he touched felt warm and ?'?.t looked down :ind s:lw that I-was soaking through her thin dress. " They beat me so," she said, " that I ran away to-night." " Who beat you ?" he asked. " I don't know; but they did beat me, and made the blood come." Then the whole truth flashed upon Rainger. About five miles off was an asylum and the girl to whom 1m was talking wa3 an escaped patient, - " Y"ii won't let them take me from you. will you?".said the j?oor thing, grasping his hand with painfuL earnestness. Again his wife seemed to lie looking at liiiu out of those eyes. His wifeV voice seemed t<? whisper through the room: "You must keep her and lie a father to her for my sake." " What is your name?" he asked. \ " Kate." ' I will never let them take you from ' me. Kate: hut you must always do what 1 tell you; if you don't they will lind you and take you away.". " And heat me again ?" " Yes. worse than ever." Then lie looked at the pour mangled hotly and dressed the wounds. 1 am writing of a time, happily past now, when the unfortunate inmate of lunatic asylums underwent horrors which it now sickens one to think of. He made Kate lie down upon his lied and then casting himself on the floor fell into a broken, uneasy sleep. Finally when the dawn had well come. anu mrus were laiKauve, lie rose ami went to look at liis charge; she was sleeping as peacefully as a child, one hand half hidden in her long gold hair. Mr. Kainger felt that something very precious and very beautiful had come to him, but what was lie to do with it? Fortunately there was one person in the village who loved and trusted him, and whom he in return also loved and trusted. This person was not beautiful to look at, and also she was old. Her name was Martha. He resolved to take Jier into his confidence. She had nursed his wife through her long and fatal illness, and had been his friend ever since. Unwilling himself to leave the house, as soon as it was light he sent out one of the boys of the village to Martha, asking her to come to him at once. She complied with his request, and, while Kate continued to sleep, Kainger and Mrs. Wakefield talked of what was to be done. One thing was clear, that, if possible, Kate's presence in the cottage must be kept a secret. Mrs. Wakefield would send in some fresh clothes for the poor girl, and when night came Rainger would take those she now wore, and which seemed to him a badge of the asylum, and bury them in some wonderful eaves close at hand, holding in their depths miles of night mil il!irL-nr-v< A\"ln>n K'ntii iwtil.-c Martha went to her, washed and j dressed her, and shuddered over her i poor, wounded body. When she was I dressed she was brought to see Kain- j ger. She bade him good-morning and J put up her face to be kissed. As a rule Itainger prepared his own 1 breakfast; to-day Mrs. "Wakefield saved him that trouble. Kate's was taken to her in an inner room, lest any ofj the neighbors should catch sight of her in their passing by. It was little work that Itainger got through that day, so occupied was he I in studying his charge. Mrs. "Wake- j field had lent her a picture book, which i seemed to delight her. Once in the course of that day, when she was j alone with Mrs. Wakefield, she said. | fixing her eyes intently on that good j woman, and speaking in a tone which. : in its intensity, corresponded to the) look in her eyes: " Where's Tom?" | .She had heard Mrs. Wakefield call j him by his Christian name. do you want loin, my preuy r | answered the widow. " Yes, I want Tom," replied the girl,: dreamily. Then she fell to looking at | her hands, as if they had suddenly | grown strange to her. Mrs. Wakefield went lor Rainger, who was not far oft'. The girl threw her arms about his neck, buried her face on his shoulder and sobbed and i laughed by turns. Then she asked for i the music, so he got his violin and played to her. As lie played i it seemed as if her poor j spirit, wandering in lands lit by dubi-j ous lights, echoing with unjoyful j laughter and sad singing, haunted by shapes terrible and indescribable, was ' striving desperately and vainly to, grope its way back to the land of rea- j son and reality. What could there be ! to apprehend in her? She seemed! strangely gentle. Ilcr voice was very j low and had in it a subtle inner music i which went right to the hearer's heart, j I cannot set forth in words the pas-! sion of tenderness with which Rainger i thought of his new charge. When he went on the common he left her locked j up in the house with d?>11 or picture-1 book. So passed a couple of months. I One cold, wet, windy August night,' a night when nature seemed shudder4.. i:.*-i. , i.. nign m lfiiii/.t- iiir urMiiution of the end, Rainger lay asleep in tin; room adjoining the one decupled liy Kate. lie was a sound sleeper. Suddenly, however, he was awakened l?y some one shaking liim violently. He started up to see Kate standing by his side. She carried a light in her hand, and her gold hair was all unbound. There was a look in her keen eyes that lie had not seen there before?a look of protest and infinite horror?the look of an animal about to undergo some torture from which it knows there is no escape. " What are you doing, Kate?" he asked; has anything frightened you?" She placed the light on the table and her lingers began working in one another. Then she said, in a tone of voice scarcely louder than a whisper: " 1 am going to scream." Siie had scarcely uttered the words when she llunir back her head and stretched out her.hands, while from her lips there broke a shriek so terrible, so unearthly, as to make the blood of any one who heard it turn cold. It was a cry which seemed to rend the sense of hearing, it was so wild, so unlike anything ever heard before, that it suggested some new agony, of body and-sold?a fresh discovery in the realms of torture. Fortunately, there was no cottage within a mile of Kainger's. lie came near her, but she sprang at him like a wild thing, her eyes Hashing, her lips drawn back and showing her gleaming teeth. At length breath failing, she fell to the ground, where she lay cowering as if she expected every moment to feel the stroke of a rod. It was clear tlmf- w!i< 1 i:ilil? to 1 hese terrible and dangerous outbreaks of insanity. Before morning she was taken with another wild lit of screaming, after which she grew strangely quiet, and | then fell asleep. i When she awoke she was again Ungentle, trusting, childlike Kate. " What if such a lit should take her in the daytime?" thought Hainger, and he shuddered. ; Every day she seemed to cling more | and more to her protector, whom only 1 she and the old woman loved, j Often, for hours together, he would hold her slight form clasped against his heart, as if she had been his child, : her bright head leaning upon his ! shoulder. lie told her fairy tales and ' simple rhymes, of which she liked the ! sound; but most of all site delighted j in hearing him plav. lie was seen j less and less at the Three .lolly Hoys, and became still more unpopular i Then people grew curious to know how and where he spent his evenings One evening a man stole to his cot : tage door. It was closed, but the mar 1 " ? 1.1 i - i>. lllOUglll IIC L'lllllU IU .ll l uiiniii^ I to himself; lie was telling Kate a story For lour months the patient searei j had been made for the escaped ma? i girl, hut with no good result. It ol'tei ! happens that when we liave searehei long and diligently for some ohjeet \ and have at last given it up as lost fo: I ever, we come upon it by aeeiden I when there is no thought of it in ou minds. . ?o chanced it with Dr. Prince, i shrewd, hard, implacable-looking man lie had quite given up the hope o finding his escaped patient, when fat led him to tbeyery place where sli i was. The doctor, who enjoyed bodih , exercise, was returning on foot out evening to the asylum. His waylay I over the common. lie had counted on ; a moonlight walk, hut instead of mooni light a fog fell over everything? 1 a fog, too. that wetted one liki rain. Dr. Prince was perplexed t< ; kui w what course heshould take when I to the left of him lie spied a gleam ol light, which proceeded from ItaingerV _ cottage. The doctor gave thanks lor it. and. pushing open the gate, stood in the little garden, which, because of tie'season, smelt then only of decay, i " A ]iest oil these Xovemher fogs," ! thought the doctor, before rapping at tlie dour. Then lie stood there arrested by what he heard from within, | though what he heard was simply a man's voice saying* " Well, when the good fairy saw how ! sail little Alice was, \>ith no books, no I prettv pictures, no nice dresses, and no I dolls?" Then a girl's voice, questioningly: ] " Didn't she have any dolls?" Then the man again: "Xo; no dolls I at all. not one." Then the girl: "Did she have any | music?" ' No; no music, either." j Then she must have been a very ! s:nl little ?rirl "So she was; but let me tell you what the good fairy did." ' It must lie she!" ejaculated Dr. I'rince. " I should know that voice anywhere, Run to earth at last, my dear." Without inoro delay lie knocked on the cottage door. The man left off j talking, and said " I Fiisli!" in a low tone of voice; then feet moved across i the lloor and a door shut. Then the j door that lt d from the garden into the j sitting-rooiii was opened l?y Rainier. "I have lost my way most hopelessly i in this horrible fog," began the doctor; "and, catching sight of your friendly ' light. 1 thought you might be able to j oblige me with the loan of a lantern." The unsuspecting photograpuer re: plied that lie should be happy to sup! ply the desired object; and, while he ; was getting it ready, the doctor came in and-made himself at home. There 1 was something in him that Rainger mistrusted and disliked. "You live here alone?" questioned the new-comer. No answer. " 1 say, you live here alone." " Yes, 1 live here alone." " 1 thought when 1 came to the door I heard voices." Mr. Rainger stopped in preparing the lantern, raised his eyes, lixed them on the stranger's face, and said, insolently, it must be owned: l* vmi fli/1 ?mil vrni . ., .... ...... J........... t..... didn't. What business is it ol' yours whether I speak the truth or not?" '* As it happens,"answered the doctor, "it is my very special business. I believe ?nay, I am almost certain?that you have concealed a dangerous and escaped lunatic, for whom the closest search has been made." "That's nonsense!" returned the; other, brusquely, busying himself with the lantern. "There is no escaped j lunatic here." " I am sorry to doubt your word," replied the doctor, "but, really?" and i as quick as lightning he darted to the , door of the adjoining room and opened it. At the same time a shape sprang 1 from it, rushed passed him, and falling ! at Hainger's feet, implored him wildly | to take care of her and not to give her up. J)r. Prince looked on with a satis ncu siilut'?ii(! nau recapuireu ins vie-; tiiu. " It's too late to remove the patient to-night," lie said. " I will send for Iter in the morning. I assure you. my friend, she will he well punished for J this." And his cruel eyes gleamed. " I'll keep her against the whole gang j of you," answered Rainger, sullenly. J " Have no fear, my darling; they shall! not touch you." "She will lie removed as early as possible in the course of to-morrow," said Dr. Prince, quietly. " I shall pass to-night at Thornton;" and, taking up the lantern, he walked out into the night. Hainger closed thedoor after him and locked it. Then he sat down and considered what he could do, and Kate crouched beside him, crying from time to time, " < )h, Tom, save me!" " Yes, my love, yes," he answered, " I will save you still;" but he asked himself, " IIow V" At one time he thought of getting out his wandering house and driving her nwav in it: but what (rood would V "f n that he? They woulil he followed and souii found. What was there to he doneV lie had always prided himself on being a man of resources, yet now lie seemed resourceless. Presently he | got up and went into the garden. A ; strong, keen wind had sprung up, and had wholly scattered the fog. The 1 cold air was radiant with moonlight. I lie walked up and down; sorely distracted as to what he should do. SudI denlv he stopped in his walk and exi claimed, "Yes, better even that than to give her up to them." He took another turn to and fro; then ho went on. Kate was sitting just where he had left her, her face buried in her hands. '* Kate," lie said, " I can save you if you will do just what 1 tell you." " 1 will be good," she answered. ! Shortly after this a man, powerfully lniilt, though somewhat low in stature, i and a slightly-made girl might have ; been seen walking together in the direction of the noted Thornton caves, in wiueii onee J)rum priests nan performed their dre.nl sacrilieial rites. The girl carried a violin ease, the man | car rut I a lantern anil a spade. The two soon reaehetl the month of the eaves. " Where are wo going?" asked Kate, i "In here, dear," he answered. She sprang hack, saying, "It looks : so dark in there, I'm frightened." j " It won't he dark with this," he said, turning1 up his lantern to the full. "In here von are safe, litre they will ; never lind you." " Are you quite sure they won't lind ! 1110?" "Quit" sure; hend your head very low. There, that's it; you can stand up now." They were in the everlasting night ami winter of the Thornton eaves. In ?I?J in that nullity uarKncss me rays nl' the lantern seemed just a faint protest of light. The ground was thickly covered with sand, which rendered their steps , noiseless. Jn parts this sand collected in drifts, forming regular hills. " I am frightened," she said, beginning to cry. " I want the music." ' (living iier the lantern to carry, Ik took t he violin front its case and began : playing, and so he drew her on as Orpheus drew iiis Kuridice. The caves are cold and the caves are dark. Thc\ , stretch for miles, and wind as snake? [ | wind. At length they reach a remote part Kainger leaves off playing and restore.1 ' the violin to its case. ; " Kate, my own darling," he says : drawing her close to him, " I love yoi . I as I should have loved her child anc i mine." j ' What are you crying for?" sh< . asks, putting her hands to his eyes i from which, indeed, the tears are fall I ing fast. "I'll be good; don't cry 1 Tom," and she lays her face caressingly 1 against his. He draws one arm away and feel r for something in his coat?a Hash,; t, sharp report, a whizz of somethinj r , through the air, a puff of smoke, a er\ a thud on the sand ?then absolute si 11 lencc. i.! Kainger stood for several minute f without moving; then he took tli c I lantern from the ledge of rock e I where he had placed it, and kneelln, t down l?y the fallen form looked closely at the fiiee and felt the pulse and heart. Yes, she was passed all earthly i detection, all earthly dread. lie rc-! placed the heavy old-fashioned pistol - in his coat, and using the spade he had brought with him dug under a proi jecting slab of rock u rough grave, i wherein he reverently laid the fair body. "(Jul bless you," he said,.as he turneu away from her he had loved so well. He was at home in these caves, as very few people were, so that he , j had no trouble in retracing his way to i the entrance. Oh! t lie deserted little ' cottage to which he returned ! Kate's empty bed; Kate's empty chair ! Still he said to himself that it had bet n the only way. He had loved her too well j to let her live for suffering worse than ' many deaths could be. The next day, with a force of keepers, Dr. Prince presented himself at | Hainger's cottage. " I have come to remove mv patient," J i :.i ; lit- miw, ! To which answered Rainier: "She ! lias removed herself; tlx- hird has flown out of the cage. Look Ion# enough and perhaps you will lind her." It was a strange ease; hut, after all. what evidence could he alleged against Iiainger, unpopular as the man was? ' I. however, think that his trust was j well kept.-?J'hili/) Jinurke. Jf(U'sto)). Why a Duel was not Fought. j Opposite the city resides Mr. J. M. i Harvey, a gentleman who has lived a i very adventurous life. Emigrating , from a Northern or Western State ! more than thirty years ago, he came to , New Orleans, where he .settled, marrying into a very wealthy and prominent J ereole family. Previous to his scttlei ment in Louisiana Harvey was engaged I in the merchant service and had sailed 1 on several whaling voyages. Having ; married a Creole, Harvey strove toconj form to the creole ideas and usages, j which were quite opposite and repugi nant to his old notions and feelings, i The transit ion was certainly a very vio lent one, from an old skipper, whose ; tastes had been acquired aboard a Nantucket whaler, to the highly relined rule* and customs which govern i creole society in Louisiana. j At a gay party at a creole neighbor's j one evening, where Harvey was pres: ent, a game of cards was proposed, and j the game proceeded quite pleasantly when an altercation arose between j Ilarvev and a ereole gentleman of high position and l'or many years an editor, j Albert Fab re. The dispute finally be! came yerv hot, winding up in words of insult from Fabre to Harvey and in :i knock-down from the heavy list of the | latter, the blow inllicting a very dark "bla-k eye" upon the unfortunate ! ereole. The next day Harvey was : waited upon by a friend of Fabre with a demand for satisfaction and a request I to be referred to his seconds, with i whom the terms of an early meeting might be arranged. Ilarvev asked | what all this meant. The second replied that he wanted him to meet Mr. Fabre in an honorable combat and thus atone for the blow he had given ! him. "lint," replied Ilarvev, "he grossly insulted me and 1 returned the insult with it blow. I think that makes us ! even, or, if wo ain't even. I'll pay up the balance." The second was surprised to hear such a response from a gentleman who had married into a creole family, and, as a mutual friend, lie warned Harvey that if he persisted in this view of the affair he would be tabooed by all his wife's relatives. The suggestion somewhat alarmed Ilarvey, and he asked , his visitor what would be the terms of the proposed combat. The second, brightening up at the success of his appeal to "the. better feelings" of Ilarvey, and at the prospect of a lively affair, quickly responded: "Oli, of course, being the challenged party you have the choice of weapons." This announcement was a great relief to Ilarvey, who knew Fabre to be an experienced duelist, skilled with | the pistol and rapier. lie, therefore, j asked, with an air of irreat simplieitv. what were the weapons usually em-; ployed hy gentlemen 011 sueh oeea- j sions. " I'istols, swords, rilles, shotguns or anv dangerous weapon in whieh vou may be skilled." " I understand you," ITarvey replied, j "and my weapons are harpoons-?I hickory handles, ten feet in length; distance twenty l'eet apart. 1 have a liraeeof them, from which your friend can take his choice. The creole was ystcuinded, shocked and puzzled ; still more horrified was he when Harvey showed him one, of j these weapons, which had seen good | service on the Pacific. "Why," he exclaimed, "do you! think my friend is a lisli to he struck hy such a tool as this?" "Fish or no lish," Ilarvev replied, ; uflmf i?itf V/mr friinifI ! uidi/ in in* n vtij'uu! j *mu ?i i \ i>x> ? < | quite as skillful in handling sword or j pistol as I ant with the harpoon. When I challenge him, he will have the' choice of weapons, and now I claim, J the right, as the challenged party, to j I use the only one which 1 feel I can use ; with skill and effect." " Hut, sir. your proposition is bizarre I and ridiculous and will hring contempt I on all who are engaged in it. This is j a serious affair, sir, and I expect you i to treat it seriously." "You'll lind harpoons serious i enough," replied Harvey, at the same ' time going through the harpoon excr- j (rise as practiced oil whaling ships. The indignant creole retired in ex-' trcme disgust. And the next day1 everybody in the city knew of this i spoiled duel. It may indicate the rail-! ical difference of ideas of the two races that while Fabre's creole friends n^xirted the incident as one which rellected great disgrace on Harvey, the I Americans laughed over it most heart| ily as a rich joke and a fair commentary upon the absurdity of the duello, j ?New Orleans Lett' r. I The Slave Trade on (lie Nile. Swedish missionaries in Nubia report that they have* lately experienced I much oppression from the Kgyptian agents and ollicers in the I'ppcr Nile , j valley, who exceedingly dislike Ku! ropeans on account oi' their hatred of | the slave, trade. A very extensive slave trade is carried on by Kgyplian i and Turkish merchants in the region south and west of the llliie Nile. Troops of negroes are brought north. j ward in chains. Those who prove too weak for the journey arc either aban j doned without mercy to perish from l | hunger or wild beasts, or their drivers . I at once kill them. The girls are sold i I to the harems of wealthy Egyptians ! and Turks, while the men and women J are disposed of as servants. There is I also a steady demand for male negroes . i of a certain class for attendants and < - guardians of the Mohammedan harems; but ;t great proportion of these , [men die from the injuries sustained in i the preliminary training for the duties 1 of this oiliee. The Swedish missimiaI ries have been compelled to return to lilmrtnori itiuto.'ltl <il' IK'tU'f r;tt i ll<r sc 111t ll J ; ?> ?? i n t ward as they had intended. The '; Kgvptians regard the missionaries and i all whites as spies upon and opponents i' of the barbarities connected with the i extensive slave trallic with the ins I terior.?St. ./dims (itizctte. !l I t ; An Epitaph. , j The Methodist section of the cemej tery in Springfield, Mass., contains a ! tombstone erected to the memory of a s i uian kicked to death by a horse. The e tombstone bears this consolatory epis taph: g Blameno^dbeaatwhoatntmetothedoit, ' LADIES' DEPARTMENT. \Vhnt Color* to Wrnr. j Most women look well in plain l black, relieved bv a clash of color here and there. To tin* fair-skinned European races, indeed, black and white dress is naturally becoming, for the delicate tones of the skin forma middle tint between tin; two. On the other hand, if we come upon a negro dressed i in black, the features and the pupils of the eyes, which we wish particularly to see, have vanished; we cannot get rid of the whites of the eyes, which are forced into startling and unpleasant forwardness, and which, under a normal state of circumstances, are intended only to enhance the dark pupil and iris. A light ?.s, which brings out the dark features and tones down the white of the eye, is tl|? proper wear for dark races. In fair races the rule?with individual exceptions, of course?is that the dark eye harmonizes the fair skin with the dark dress, or is a telling point of color when a light dress is worn. To my mind people of beautiful coloring look best attired with equal attention to the tinting and the light and shade of the complexion; but the effect can never be complete without the mediation of some neutral color?white is the best ?between the face and hands and the dress. The white may be slightly toned, like old lace. AVe want the suggestion of clean linen, as well as the actual color of the white. A pale dress generally needs the accentuation of a darker color. Patch Work. Annie "Walceman writes trom Xew York to the Chicago Hominy Journal: Old-fashioned industries are coming into vague. The latest is the patch work mania. One day last week I took a living trip to Fort Lei*. Seated on the hroad piazza of its line hotel, and listening to the afternoon concert by the band, I amused myself by studying fclie people seated about me, most of them regular boarders at the hotel, who were plying their fingers over various kinds of fancy work. There is always one kind which is the rage for the summer. Last summer the preference was given to serpentine braid "ric-rae" work, consequently every other woman you met had hor muslin gown elaborately decorated with this showy trimming. This year the rage is for the " Oscar crazy quilt." On a piece of cambric half a yard square there is basted in the center a sunflower made of either yellow broadcloth, silk or velvet, or :i lily, a daisy, or pansy oi one of the same materials. The square is then filled in with hits of silk and velvet of all colors, arranged helter skelter, a sort of artistic confusion of colors. The hits are of irregular pattern, just as your friends give them to you?squares, triangles, circles, jags and tags. After hasting these on the edges are neatly turned in, and the piece is sewed down firmly with a chain stitch of old gold, alternating with cardinal sewing silk. When the cambric squares are completely filled out, and enough of them have heen made for a hedquilt or sofa comforter, they are joined together with narrow black velvet ribbon, which is ornamented with chain and herring-bone stitches in shaded silk lloss, to suit the artistic taste of the worker. The sunflower gives the name of "Oscar," and heaven knows the. patches are "'crazy" enough in shape. Such is fame. Oscar Wilde is immortalized himself in silk quilts,, to be handed down to generations yet unborn as heirlooms of what " grandmamma did when she was a girl." Spirits of former grandmamas, how you must fume as you haunt the gar-1 rcis wnere arc ignoniuuuusjy pui-nuu away your favorite calico quilts, the much-treasured "spider-web," "fox! and geese," and "log-cabin" patterns ! "What is this folly?" yon ask in sepulchral tones; "the ' Oscar crazy' young women, you are all clean daft along with your trumpery quilts." Never mind, this serves to revive the homely industry of quilt-making, and a prominent society lady tells me that one of the novelties next season here will be the sociable quilting-bee, in order to quilt and silk-line the summer-work of Dame Fashion's daughters. Fnnhlan Noicm. Handsome Spanish lace In either black or white is now used over silk surah for evening jackets. Ecru-colored silks, covered with shaded "begonia" leaves, and finished with Irish point, make showy and stylish costumes. White and black satine piping, braided in lloral designs and deep, pointed edges, is sometimes used for the heading of fringes. The"(Jros de Londres" is a silk, ribbed like a " rep," very rich and 1: ? i?j.. f *,..i tint ran-; jmi uruiiii i\ jn ie?i nj "l?on-ton " fashion-seekers. Instead of the eoniliinations of two or three fabrics, it is announced that a single fabric for the entire dress will be the prevalent autumn fashion. The most expensive of the floral satines are found in pale-tinted and black ground, profuse with sprays of fuchsia, chrysanthemums, roses, lilies of the valley, etc. J'lain basques are losing favor, for we now see the rich corsage made with a plastron of velvet, or, if lighter goods be preferred, it is shirred to please the fancy. Large single flowers are in favor on salines, foulards and surahs, and their size is so great that only one blossom can lie seen on a sleeve and live on the back of a dress corsage. lied is the favorite color at present for children's frocks. It rivals the white dresses formerly used for little girls, and appears in some guise in al; most every toilet of the season. Ivory white is in such great vogue , that satin dresses of this shade are 110 i longer confined to full dress entertainments, but are imported for visiting ! costumes. The garniture is lace and natund flowers. ... Afraid of a Letter. It was not long ago that I happened to be in a part of Central Africa ...l.,.-,. v... ii'liiln tiifin 11fwl lw?i-n In-fun* ; I was separated from mv companions >?100 miles distant. War was raging ; around me; the road was difficult. 1 wished to communicate with those whom I had left behind. "Who will return," 1 asked of the naked savages, j"to the white men and carry them ! something from me?" Numbers volj unteered, glad to earn a yard of cloth I for (he job. A letter was written and ! offered to a man, and he was told that this piece of paper would inform my ; friends of all?that it would speak to ! them. He dropped the letter on the i ground and ran away. Others were i tried, but it was useless. A great crowd assembled, and at a safe distance ! from the little bit of paper fluttering on tlic ground. "It is medicine," i they said. "It is charmed." In vain I t ried to reason them out of their terror. None would touch it. "Will no one," i I said, "keep it and give it to the white | men as they pass this way?" A yell ! of refusal and excited gesticulation* answered mv request. ' "Then I shall : place it here in this tree," I said, mov. ing tmvard it, while the crowd (lis! persed in (light, "and you can point it i out to the white men when they come.' ! Even this they refused to do. ,M\ ! friends passed close under the tree, hut | no one dared show them the charmed I thing, and there it is probably to this | day, fluttering on the branch of that I stunted fig tree like an evil spirit, th( I awe and terror of the tribe.?II. B I Cotterill FOR THE FARM AM) HOME. Salt for Stnck. An authority on cattle says that half the saline matter of the blood (seventylive per cent.) consists of common salt, and as tiiis is partly dissolved every day through the skin and kidneys the necessity of continued supplies of it to the healthy body issuflicieAly obvious. The bile also contains soda*one of the ingredients of salt) as a special and indispensable constituent, and so do all the cartilages of the body. Stint the supply of salt and neither will the bile be; able properly to assist digestion nor the cartilages io be built up again as fast as they naturally waste. It is better to place salt where stock can have free access to it than to give it occasionally ! in small quantities. They will help | themselves to what they need if al Hiwi'u to (io so ai pleasure ; oinerwise wlicn they become salt-hungry, they may take more than is .wholesome. Saving Poultry Manure. Poultry manure is well worth saving. It contains when dry in 1,000 pounds about forty pounds of nitrogen, twenty pounds of potash, two and a half pounds of soda, sixty pounds of lime, seventeen pounds of magnesia, thirtysix pounds of phosphoric acid and ten pounds of sulphuric acid. These are worth at the market prices of fertilizers about $15, equal to $30 a ton. This, however, is much less than is popularly supposed to be the value of this manure, which some persons think to be equal to guano, or $00 a ton at the above valuation. But to preserve all its fertilizing value the droppings should be carefully saved each day and mixed with a small quantity of plaster and put into a dry place where they may not become subjected to any injurious fermentation. The 1/est way to keep it is in close barrels, in which it may slowly decompose without loss of ammonia. The mixture of plaster adds nothing to its value, but preserves all its elements, and especially the nitrogen, from waste by absorbing the ammonia produced by its decomposition. *_ Putting Arniy Tools. The wearing out of farm implements is, as a rule, due more to neglect than to use. Jf tools can be well taken care of it will pay to buy tiiose mady of the best steel and finished in the best manner; but in common hands and with common care such are of little advantage. Iron and steel parts should be cleaned with dry sand and a cob, or scraped with a piece of soft iron, washed and oiled if necessary, and in a day or two cleaned off with the corn-cob and dry sand. Finally, flw* "AnU Imvhiv un; ii mi [iiii t >> 11 n iudiu mill beeswax, in the proportion of four of rosin to one of wax, melted together and applied hot. This is good for the iron or steel parts of every sort of tool. Woodwork should be painted with good, boiled linseed oil, white Itad and turpentine, colored of any desired tint; red is probably the best color. Keep the cattle aw;ty until the paint is dry and hard, or they will lick, with death as the result. If it is not desired to use paint on hand tools the boiled oil with turpentine and " liquid dryer" does just as well. Many prefer to saturate the woodwork of farm implements with crude petroleum. This cannot be used with color, but is applied by itself, so long as any is al>sorbed by the pores of the wood.? American Agriculturist. Fall Plowing. W. A. Armstrong says, ;is reported in the Husbandman'. A very forcible argument in favor of fall plowing may be found in the improvement of heavy soils, :is Mr. Lewis has said. lie finds color aim texture changed by the operation of frost, lie can deepen his soil also by judicious full plowing?a gain by no means inconsiderable. Deepening heavy soils is giving them drainage, an improvement usually needed where clay predominates, because its close texture tends to arrest the (low of water, and the land is, therefore, kept wet long after the proper season for plowing in spring for oats and barley. But after all the advantages of fall plowing visible in my practice I know there are farmers who work land of similar compositions who say that fall plowing wastes fertility. I do not know how, yet they say after trial that their lands run down under the treatment. The facts may be as stated, but I must think there are other causes. In some cases fall plowing leads to continued cropping by the facilities it affords for extending work. This is the temptation to get just one more grain crop, with preparations completed in fall sowing to stimulate desire. If it be true tSiat fall plowing in itself brings impoverishment of soil I should be glad to know how, for I cannot connoivrt u'lii' if. m\r% hnvu tlmf Farm um> N?tp?. Water and salt vour live stock regularly. Don't waste too much grain in harvesting. Cows generally do not "let down" their milk readily to those who do not treat them kindly. Feed fowls systematically two or three times a day, and allow them to take plenty of exercise. A farmer should so arrange his kitchen garden that he can use both plow and cultivator in its management. One cow. horse, sheep or pig well fed is more profitable than two kept on the same amount necessary to keep one well. Fowls like cabbage in winter. In fact, if they have the run of the cabbage patch in summer there will be j none left for winter use. It is thirty per cent, more profitable to im mature and dispose 01 1 aliening eattle at two year old than to keep them up to three years. Professor Kensie says that the weight of the fresh vegetable matter in an acre of cod, twenty-five tons, is equal to twenty-live loads of fresh barnyard manure. After pruning the orchard rare should be taken to clean up and burn all the brush before the embryo insects ! harboring in it have time to mature, j The loose bark should also be scraped I off and burned, and every cluster of the eggs of the tent caterpillar be rcj moved betimes and cast into the lire. Attention to these matters will save a great deal of vexation and loss. Wood in the milk may be due to an inllamcd and congested condition of the udder. It may be sometimes cured by giving the cow a cooling medicine, such as eight to twelve ounces 01 r,psom salts, and frequently bathing the udder with cold water. } If one will take the trouble, says Mr. I Felch, tn count the rows of scales on a cock's leg, in front down to the lirst joint in the middle toe, he will find , that there are seventeen, and that no matter what the length of the shank is the number will lie the same. Horses slobber from eating clover. An exchange says: This is annoying . especially in the driving horse, but the [ remedy is very simple and easy at i hand, consisting of a head of cabbage I fed to the horse just before using him . for work or driving. It is cheap and . | effective. Another disease is again threatening ' the horse. This disease is called ' "thrush." It makes itself known by ; an eruption of the skin immediately 1 above the hoofs, and in time, if not ) attended to, the hoof softens and drops ; off. The horses are more liable which 3 are overworked or have just recovered . from the pink-eye. The disease is not contagious, except by direct contact. One of the principal causes of heaves in horses is the feeding of dusty or dirty hay. Ordinary clean hay can always he fed with safety if properly cut up, moistened and mixed with ground gr;iin; but to feed the musty or dirty sorts is very injurious. Clover, owing to its liability to crumble, often gets dirty, even after storage, and should never be fed without being previously moistened. A solution of chloride of lime brushed over plants is said to effectually protect them from insects. If scattered over ground infested with grubs it will free it from them entirely. Bunches of cotton or tow 1 * -A ..X* ,.1.1 1_ 'I* siueareti wiui a mixuiru 01 cmoriuc 01 lime and lard and tied about in different parts of a tree, will guard it against the attacks of insects, slugs, grubs, etc., and drive away those already in possession. It is said that no animal is so extensively diffused over the globe or increases as rapidly sis the hog. Marshal Vauban calculated that the produce of a single sow in ten years, assuming six pigs at a litter, would increase' to 0,434,130 pigs, or as many as any of the chief European states could support. If this calculation were carried on to the twelfth generation we should lind they would till all Europe with a supply, and bv the sixteenth cover the entire globe. It is not best to renew the orchard by planting young apple trees in the places made vacant by the decay and destruction of the old ones. To a certain extent the material needed for the growth of the apple wood has been extracted from the soil, and many of the enemies with which the apples has to contend have found a location there. It is better to supply a vacancy, with a tree of some other fruit or perhaps leave it vacant and plant a new Orchard in some other locality. It would be very easy to make and have good butter if a place were pro vided to keep the milk at a proper temperature at all seasons of the year. Milk should be kept at a temperature of about fifty-live degrees Fahrenheit, and the cream when churned should stand at 'about sixty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Stir the cream every day neiore claiming. r>;ui uie uuuer in the proportion of one ounce to the pound, and work thoroughly. Milk, cresun and everything about the " dairy" should be kept scrupulously clean. Reclpcd. Rick Pudding.?To one cupl'ul of boiled rice add four eggs, a cupful of sugar and one of raisins, nutmeg or lemon extract to suit your taste; stir in milk enough to thin sufficiently. To the quantity of rice mentioned a pint and a half w ill do. Hake till the milk is like custard, and let it brown over the top. OatmealPokuidge.?Oatmeal porridge is excellent if made in this way: Soak two cups of oatmeal all night in water; in the morning strain it and let it boil briskly for half an hour; then add about two cups of milk and salt to your taste; let this boil up once or twice; sweeten or not as the patient may prefer. This can be assimilated by ;i very weak stomach, and is not only refreshing but nourishing. "When straining the oatmeal before cooking rub it it in the sieve with a spoon, so that all the soft part will be saved. i Queen's Pudding.?One pint of fins sifted breadcrumbs, one quart of milk, one cup of sugar, the yolks of four eggs, ;i piece of butter the size of an egg; bake until done^(but do not allow it to become watery)* and spread with a layer of jelly. Whip the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth with live tablespoonfuls of sugar and juice of one lemon, spread on the top and brown lightly. This is good with or without sauce. It is very good cold, served with rich cream. Tomato Figs.?Pour boiling water over the tomatoes in order to remove the skins; then weigh them and place them in a stone jar, with as much sugar as you have tomatoes, and let them stand two days, then pour off the syrup and boil and skim it until no scum rises. Then pour it over the tomatoes and let them stand for two days, as before, then boil and skim again. Al'tcr the third time they are lit to dry if the weather is good; if not, let them stand in the syrup until drying weather. Then place on large earthen plates or dishes, and put them in the sun to dry, which will take about a week, after which pack them down in small wooden boxes, with line white sugar between each layer. Tomatoes prepared in this manner will keep for years. Household Hint*. Hats, mice and insects will avoid a place that has been sprinkled with chloride of lime. The best thing to clean tinware is common soda ; rub on briskly with a damp cloth, after which wipe dry. J\ 1 U.T il ?uive JlilS unci' uccii uiiiioughlv blackened it can be kept looking well for 21 long time by rubbing it with a newspaper every morning. If lemons are rolled for a few minutes before cutting tliem the juice can be squeezed out easily and not a drop be lost; be careful not to break the skin when rolling them. To make sealing wax for fruit cans, take eight ounces of rosin, two ounces gum shellac and a half ounce of beeswax. Melt all together. This will make quite a quantity and may be melted for use when wanted. Grease spots can lie removed from silk bv sprinkling French chalk on the spot and laying the garment away on a shelf in a dark closet. If the stain is obstinate tins may have to be repeated. In ordinary cases this will be suflicicnt, but where the grease is not fresh and has spread it may be taken out by placing blotting-paper over it and applying a hot iron to it. Do not let the iron stand on it long, and it must not t i * .. . n?, I)C Y1TV lllll,, iir> llll'ii" in inin^i i mi mveolor of the silk being changed. Governor Tabor and tlio Parrot. M. B. Curtis and his wife have a pet parrot which is their constant traveling companion, and which speaks the king's Knglish with amazing fluency. The loquacious bird caused quite a panic at the Windsor hotel last night. The Curtis family oceupv rooms directly adjoining Governor Tabor's apartments at the hotel, and last evening, as the governor was entering his apartments, ho heard what he thought was a female voice, f aying, "Hello, baby." The governor was a trille startled. He is a very gallant man, but he could not for th? life of him imagine what he had ever done to warrant any lemaic m auoressing mm so familiarly. The salutation appeared to be intended for liiin, and came from the transom over the door of the room directly across the hall. The governor was nonplussed. "Ilello! baby, pretty baby," said the voice again, and the governor blushed as he stroked his fierce i moustache, and tried to brace lip and | look dignified. " Won't you come and I kiss your baby?" called the voice again, in a deliciously seductive sort of I a way. Now, the governor seldom takes a dare of any kind. To do him justice, lie is a brave man, and at this particular moment he felt big enough o tackle an army. He crept softly over to the door and asked: " Are you talking to me?" "Nice baby." said the voice; but no sooner had the voice spoken than another voice from inside the room?a big, burly man's voicecalled out: "Go away from that door and let the parrot go to sleep 1" It i was Mr. Curtis who spoke.?Denver (Col,) Tribune* HUMOR OF THE DAT. The original land league?Three Does the night mail go by the bed j^H Son^ of the tramp?Gobble, gobble, A pieee of steel is a good deal like a j^H man; when you get it red-hot it loses If it wasn't for the belles a good ' many people would miss being church " Misery may like company," says a 1 Ambidextrous Men. ' One of the New York papers not \ long ago had an article on right and j left-handed people, or ambidexters, in i which several remarkable instances of ! persons possessing this faculty were ' given. Strange to say, however, no I mention was made of Ben Lusby or I George Tiffany. Lusby is famous the country over, and is known as the : lightning ticket-seller. He traveled i for many years with the largest cirI cuses, and received almost fabulous ! pay, being as great a curiosity as anyt thing to be see in the tents. He used i both hands in selling tickets, taking in j money, nanuingoui iickcis and maKing | change more rapidly with each than an ' ordinary ticket seller could with both, j It was no unusual thing to see him select six or eight full-price and chilJ dren's tickets, receive a $10 or $20 bill | and pick out and return the change ! with one hand, while he was selling j one or two tickets at a time and mak! ing change at the same time with the j other hand. i George Tiffany, who had always had [ a large acquaintance with theatrical and show people, and who was a friend of Lusby, possessed the same faculty to a considerable extent, and on several occasions gave exhibitions to his friends of his ability to imitate Lusby, having probably practiced under his direction. He was scarcely a fourth as rapid as Lusby, but was acknowledged "in the profession" to be, with the exception of Lusby, the ony two-handed ticket-seller in the world. Instances of people who write and make figures with both hands are by no means rare. In the old St. Louis Democrat office, before the partnership was dissolved, two accountants were employed who, in posting the books, generally made figures with one hand and posted the items with the right. A bookkeeper in one and a cashier in another large wholesale house in St. Louis now work in the same way, and a reporter on a morning paper writes with either hand, and it is impossible to distinguish anv difference in the formation of the lefters. A more remarkable instance of dual faculties than any mentioned is that of a gentleman well known in St. Louis, Mr. E. C. Lackland. Mr. Lackland was for some time treasurer of the Fair association, and excited no little attention and remark among those who saw him using alternately either hand in writing letters or messages. The on-lookers were, however, still more iistonished to see him when in a hurry grasp a pen or pencil and write rapidly with both hands, and would have been yet more amazed had they known that the messages he was at work on at the same time were addressed to different people and entirely different in character. When not busy enough to employ both hands, he generally uses the left, but the character of the chirograph)* is the same, and it is doubtful if he himself knows the difference. He does not seem to consider himself possessed of an unusual gift or talent, and would, no doubt, have been much amused had he heard the remark made by an acquaintance, who, after seeing him write two letters at once, confidentially informed a friend that he must have his brains parted in the middle or be possessed of two sets. The science of medicine teaches that unusual mental strain or activity correspondingly depresses the system physically, but the rule evidently does not apply, to Mr. Lackland. The Chameleon. Among the tree lizards, or those which rarely crawl on the ground and never enter the water, the chameleon is the most noticeable. .This singular reptile has long been famous for its power of changing its color, a property, however, which has been greatly exaggerated. Although all lizards are torpid, some of them are quite capable i of great activity at certain seasons, but j the chameleon is sluggish in tjie exj treme, being the very sloth among j reptiles. When it moves along the branch on I which it is clinging the reptile first j raises one foot very slowly indeed, i and will sometimes remain with its foot | in air for considerable time, as if it had j gone to sleep in the interim. It then j puts the foot slowly forward, and takes i a good grasp of the branch. Having j satisfied itself that it is firmly secured i it leisurely unwinds its tail, which has ' been tishtlv twisted around the branch, j shifts it a little forward, coils it around [ again and then rests for a while. With : the same slow precaution each foot is ! lifted forward and advanced, the move1 mcnt being only a little faster than the j hour hand of a watch. I The chameleon's food consists of insects, mostly of?llies, and, like many other reptiles, it is able to go for months without food, a fact which j gives rise to the belief that the chame! Icon lived on the air. To judge by exi ternals, there never was an animal less j fitted than the chameleon for capturing I anything as active as a llv, and yet we ! shall see that the lizard is well equipped ! for this purpose. The tongue is the j instrument by which the llv is captured, being first deliberately aimed, like a i billiard player aiming a stroke with his I cue, ami then darted out with singular velocity. This member is very mus' "? > "'>'1 fnrnkliPil :it tliP tit) With a kind of viscid secretion which causes j the lly to adhere to it. Its mouth is ' well furnished with teeth, which are ; set firmly into its jaw, and enable it to bruise the insects after getting them j into its mouth by means of the tongue. I The eyes have a most singular appearance, and are worked quite indej pcndeiitlv of each other, one rolling backward, while the other is directly ! forward or upward. There is not the ; least spark of expression in the eye of | the chameleon, which looks about as 1 intellectual as a green pea with a dot I of ink upon it. In speaking of the changes of color | in the chameleon, Mr. Wood, the writer j on natural history, says: " 1 kept a chaj melcon for a long time, and carefully i watched its changes of color. Its primary hue was gray-black, but other colors were constantly passing over its i body. Sometimes it would be striped ! like a zebra with light yellow or eov; ered with circular yellow spots. Sometimes it was all chestnut and black like ' a leopard, and sometimes it was brilliant green. Sometimes it would be j gray, covered with black spots; and : once, when it was sitting on a branch, : it took the hue of the autumnal leaves ' so exactly that it could scarcely be dis| tinguished from them. A Shrewd Detective. The following anecdote is told of tiir late Detective Callanan of Philadel I Jlllia: uni? U5IV 11HTH ??9 (Jn-ia v??n stcrnation in Drexel's banking-house ' over the discovery that a whole page ! of checks, signed in blank, was missing. ' Those, in the hands of expert rogues, j were worth a million. Callanan was i sent for in a hurry. Every clerk i had a theory. Callanan glanced | around, climbed upon a stool, critically examined the top of tin screen on the counterf and stepped down. " Nobody ever reached ovei there. The dust is undisturbed," he | said. He searched among the papers I checks, etc., but could not lind tin missing sheet. " Where do you tlmrn ! your waste-paper?" The spot was ' shown in the ash-heap. Callanan, aftei a minute's ]>robing with a cane, turned up a greenish-looking paper, which lu j examined and discovered tobetheanxiously-looked-for slip. Any wastej>aper gatherer could have picked it u}. . I in the interval between Saturday am i Monday, when it had lain out of doors | The elder Drexel, when he was handet . j the sheet, rewarded the detective wit! j $50, which was the quickest earnec j monoy ho had ever received, colored philosopher; "but I'd rader hah d'> rhumatiz in one leg den terhab gH It is curious that the pig must be flH killed before he can be cured. A yacht : vHH can stand on a tack without saying naughty words. " Don't pat in no muskeeter nettin' for me," said Aunt Hannah. " I don't want to breathe no strained air."? Boston Transcript. HH " Amateur Gardener" wants to know j^H the easiest way to make a hothouse. Leave a box of parlor matches where the baby can play with them. Bashful lovers must have a streak of spiritualism in their composition, as H they always turn down tlie light when there are to be any manifestations. HI The sting of a bee is only one-thlrty-second of an inch long,. It is your ' 'M Wk imagination that makes it seem as Ml long as a hoe handle.?Free Press. |^H " Don't you think it is about time BH that I exhibited something?" asked an ambitious artist of a critic. "Yes; a little talent, for instance," was the ready retort. A Philadelphia mule has killed a HE mad dog, but it is still a matter of J jflj doubt whether a mule or a mad dog is. the safest thing to have around.--. Lowell Citizen. You can buy a real Mexican raanila hammock for $1.75. And then you can fall out of it and drive your backbone up clear through your chin for nothing.?New Haven Register. " Does your wife take much exercise?" asked Fenderson of Fogg, whose family is at the seaside. " Ex- HB ercise!" exclaimed Fogg ; " I should ' say so. She changes her dress six |H times every day."?Boston Transcript. Ye.?, I went to church one day H With some money?by the way, I'd been saving from my pay For 60me socks; Bat nhe sat across the aisle, " And she sunned me with a smile! So I placed my little pile In the box. ?Hawkeye. H The Beautiful En Ins of Tanis. ':,$k B M. Edourd Xaville has lately returned from a short tour of exploration in the Eastern Delta, where he visited the ruins of Tanis. Bfl The ruins lie high above the marshy plain, upon a kind of plateau sur- mM rounded by an amphitheatre of low hills. Tiiese hills are the rubbish mounds of the old crude brick city, surrounding the great wall within flH which lay the temples and palaces of Tanis. M. Faville found himself stand- j^H inrr in the midst of a vast waste strewn ?o ;? - . and piled with columns, architraves, obelisks, statues and enormous blocks of hewn stone, all shattered, overturned, and showing marks of willful destruction. Traces of the tools with which the ruin was done are visible on almost every stone. In one superb colossus, which has resisted the hand of 4 the destroyer, M. Xaviile found wedged fl| lioles into which wood blocks had been inserted for the purpose of splitting the granite. He inclines to think that this was the result of war and not of iconoclasm. The temple was probably |H occupied as a fortress in Roman times or during the middle ages, and both " besieged and besiegers may have used Hj its materials for offensive and defen- H sive purposes. The principal temple was built en- ' tirely of red granite brought from the quarries , of Assouan, on the Nubian ? frontier. The difficulty of transport- ^8 ing these enormous blocks is quite incalculable. Fourteen obelisks, described |H by M. Xaviile as the largest in Egypt, strew the mounds with their gigantic fragments. All these and nearly all |H the statues and sphvnxes, which appear to have lined the avenues to the principal temple, were erected by Rameses II. Xot only do their inscriptions celebrate tlie glory of this great Pharaoh, but even the bases of . these overturned monuments which... rested on the ground, and were intend- fV ed never to be seen by human eves, were engraved with his well-known . cartouches. Many of the colossi still retain their traces of color. * M. Xaville is of opinion that there M is a great work to be done at Tanis in .'"^B the way of excavation. The little, comparatively speaking, which has yet ^B been accomplished there was by Ma- ^B riette Pasha; but his discoveries were U limited by want of time, health and *^B funds, and much that he uncovered is *?^B again buried. - .^B "In severe grandeur and solemnity these ruins," says M. Xaville, "sur- H pass even those of Karnak. Ilerodo- '-jaB tus, who had never seen Tanis, ex- ^B ]>atiated at much length on the beauty .^^B of IJubastis. To judge'by what is left of the one end of the other, Tanis must have greatly surprised its rival. Supposing that some part at least was left standing?that all was not, as it now is, overthrown and shattered?I ^B have no hesitation in saying that Tanis H would have been the most beautiful ruin in Egypt." Though exempt, by reason of its in- H accessibility, from the depredations of H tourists, Tanis is suffering from the fatal effects of an atmosphere laden ^B with saline exberations. M. Xaville H reports that the surface of these .'j^B granite monnments are rapidly decay- H ing.?London nAtlieeum. H ? ? Curiosities of Gold .Mining. H Two methods are employed in mining fur gold?one known as quartz fl j mining and the other as surface or J gravel mining. Many difficultiesstand | in the way of obtaining the golden ! grains, and much ingenuity has been j exercised in devising ways to secure I the precious metal. In gravel mining I the great difficulty frequently lies in j obtaining sufficient water by the aid of j which to separate and redeem the glittering particles from the earth. Frequently, for want of sufficient water, mines rich in gold cannot be made to pay more than small returns. In such cases the problem always is, how can an adequate supply of water be obtained? ' As an example of how important the | procurement of water is in the case of j gravel mines, we append . an article *,' ! from the Trinity (Cal.) Journal con- A ' eerning the enterprise exhibited by Dr. A. II. Hayes, of Host on. Mass., a gentleman engaged in mining operations H 1 in that region. Says the Journal: Dr. fl Hayes purchiised tin? Me Kinney and 9 ! Keno mines on Trinity, opposite .Tunc- fl . | tion City, about two years ago. The 9 ' j yield of these mines, j?ri<>r to tlie pur- fl 1 j chase, and the lnrge return for the fl small amount of work done since the fl s doctor took possession, proves them fl . I to be among tin' very richest aurife- I i J rous gravel deposits on the coast. How- fl ' I ever, the richest of gravel cannot be ;fl ? got out of the way and made to pay fl ' its best without an ample water sup- fl I ply, and herein the mines named were 9 ' I deficient. Recognizing this fact, Dr. * ' Hayes made arrangements for the pur- fl ! chase of a large water right from Can- fl > j non creek and is at present engaged in *fl I the construction of a ditch which, fl . | when completed, will carry tlie water fl I 1 to a high point near Junction City, at i i the mouth of Cannon creek, frojn where . fl 1 j it will be crossed in iron pipe to the {McKinney and Keno mines. fl