The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, October 18, 1882, Image 1
/ _ __^_?___^____i_____^^__J_^_^?i?aIi?~'^"?^^^^^B^I
ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER^!
BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WARDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1882. NO. 20. VOLUME XXVn.||||H
Autumn.
Summer is dead; and tho autumn winds
weepinjr,
Wail amid the leaves that lately were green,
And tell how the year is with feeble steps
creeping
To join with the numberless years that
have been.
When the sunshine was bright, and the birds
softly singing,
We dreamed not of cold, or the sky's chilling
mien;
W e saw not how swiftly the glad hours were
winging:
We heard but sweet voices with happiness
ringing.
Summer is dead, and the year's hopes are
dying,
The hopes that were bright when the
spring tide was young;
When we each came with eagerness forth to
life's trying.
With step that was firm and a heart that
was strong.
And what can wo bring as the cause of life's
failing?
Was the daylight too dim and the darkness
too long?
Were the storm-waves too wild for the ship's
sailing;
Was the helmsman unnerv'd by the winds
and their wailing?
Summer is dead; ay, bnt springtide is
cominf.
And the leaves that are yellow, anil brittle,
and dead
Will revive once again when the flowers are
blooming,
And the boughs will wave green once more
over our head.
Will the hopes then revive that are now
swiftly waning?
Will the life come again that is now nearly
sped?
Shall we hear once again the woi Id's mirth
and complaining?
Ah, that must be left for death's certain explaining.
A BOY'S STOZ^T.
It all came of my having a railway
key and being macle to take music lessons.
Thompson gave me the key when
he was leaving last term. I don't
know how he came by it, or what good
it was to him, as he never saw a train
except when he went home for the
holidays; but he was always talking of
the convenience of having such a
thing when you are traveling, and
hinting at the mysterious penalties the
company might inflict if they caught
you using it.
He gave it to me in exchange for a
bit of Lettv's hair (she's my sister,
and Thompson was dreadfully in love
with her) and a scrap of the bonnet
trimmings she wore in church. 1 stole
that, but had to <isk her for the hair,
and she brought out a whole bundle
and said I might trade away tte lot if
I chose. "Hair wasn't worn much
now."
Music was anotner thing altogether,
nerr Otto Finke was an old friend of
my father's, and lived at Luckboro,'
our market town.
He took a fancy to me?bother me;
and actually persuaded my father and
mother to let me come over to Luckboro'
every market day, with my
father, for a lesson in German and
music. I didn't mind dining with him
first (uncommonly queer messes we
had, and lots of jam with them)?but
the music was simnlv diserustinsr?fin
the holidays, too!)?and the lessons
generally ended bv Finke getting to
the piano himself and warbling songs
of his Vaterland by the hour. lie did
so once too often though?and now I
have got to my story.
"We used to come and go between
Mosslands and Luekboro' by omnibus.
There was a Mo&slands station on the
line between Luekboro* and London,
but my father never went by it if he |
could help it. When he did, though I
had the key with me I never dare use
it, and began to think I had made a
bad bargain with Thompson.
One Tuesday, however, last winter,
Finke got so carried away by his own
sweet singing that he kept on long |
after I ought to have started to meet
my father, and then got so remorseful
that I thought he was going to cry;
or perhaps want to keep me all night.
" Look here," I said, "it doesn't matter.
There's a train that gets in as
soon as the 'bus. I can catch it if I I
run?good-bye!" And off I scudded,
one arm in and- one arm out of my
top-coat, for I was sure he'd object, or ;
want to see me off. I had money, and ;
there was a train which came up long i
Iberore i nau seen au l wiinteu about |
the station.
I made a dash at a carriage. It
wasn't locked, as I half hoped it might
be, and in I scrambled, but was nearly
blown out again bv a volley of the
strongest language I ever did hear.
The train started and jerked me down
into a seat before I'd time to get my i
breath. I was not used to bad expressions,
and my fellow-traveler's remarks
made my blood run cold.
There were ladies in the carriage,
but he didn't seem to mind that. He j
had a red, scowling face, with heavy !
ro/l ovelirmi-a nnil 1 ilnrul^hrit cvk \11 ,
I the rest of him was a mass of railway
rugs and wraps. I had tumbled over i
his toes into the middle seat opposite,'
where I sat scared and speechless, till
I caught the eyes of the lady next to
him fixed on me.
Ugh! such a bad old face! A tight,
rruel mouth, with all sorts of coil-lines
about it, and wicked, sharp gray eyes
that screwed into one like gimlets. I
didn't care much for Redface bv tins
time. I didn't believe he would "twist
my neck and chuck me out of the
window," as he suggested; but I hated
her all over at once, from her sausagecurls?grizzly-gray,
two on each side-?
to her hooked claws of fingers that
were twitching away at her knittingneedles,
in and out of a big gray stocking.
"Hush, Sammy," she said quite
sweetly; "the poor child means no
harm, and he can easily get out at the
next station. Where arc you going to,
I love?"
I could only gape in reply, and she
must have thought I was a softy, for
she twisted my ticket clean out of my
hand before I knew what she was
after.
"Mosslands. Very good. That's the
next station. I'll see.him safe out,
I- ucui.
Sammy growled an inarticulate response
from under his rugs.
The timid passenger had neither
spoken or stirred. She sat on the same
side as the other two, covered with a
big plaid rug and a blue woolen veil
tied over her head. I could make
nothing out except that she seemed to
be asleep in a very uncomfortable attitude.
I sat in the middle, opposite the old
woman. It was so disagreeable finding
her sharp eyes on me while her
needle clicked on just the same] that I
thought I might as well pretend to go
to sleep too. So I curled myself up
and gave one or two nods, and then
dropped my face on my arm so that
she couldn't see it.
Presently I heard the needles going
-1 .1 T ..Twl oAl.t
IBIUWOI auu swttci. jl jicr^cu, (u1h ou?i
the big bonnet and sausage curls giving
a lurch forward and then backward,
once, twice; then a big snore;
and then she was off too.
I didn't stir for a minute, for I saw
that " Sammy" was up to something.
He leant forward and peered at her as
if to make sure she was quite asleep;
then cautiously groped in the seat beside
her and hauled up a little black
bag. He opened it softly, drew out a
silver-topped flask, and closed it just
as a jerk of the train roused the old
lady. Sammy dived back in his corner;
and she sat bolt upright, rubbed
licr eyes hard, felt suspiciously around
till she found the bag, stowed it away
behind her and resumed her knitting.
I?
1
Only for a few moments, though; with
a weary groan she let stockings, needles
and ail go down with a run, and
dropped hack sounder asleep than bej
fore.
Then from Sammy's corner came a
gurgle?soft and low?many times rej
peatcd?then all was quiet.
Now was my time. I began to look
about and think what I should do
i lirst. Whether 1 dared get up on the
I seat anil see how the communication
with the guard worked and what
would happen if I pulled it. If the,
I train stopped I could make off or say!
; it was Sammy, lie was half tipsy
now and people wouldn't believe him. (
I First of all I went to the window to
look out a little. It was pitch dark
| outside, and all I could see was the re:
flection of the carriage and of the lady j
i in the blue woolen veil. She was sit-:
J ting up now and looking intently at j
inc. w liar an uncoiiiioriauie sei mey
! were, to be sure!
1 look round at her directly. She
! was very young'?younger than Letty, I
j and she's just seventeen and pretty? j
| but so thin and frightened-looking that |
1 felt very unhappy about her.
She fixed her big, bright eyes 011 nie, |
and put up her linger. " Don't speak,"
she said, in a dear whisper. " Keep
looking out of the window. Can you
hear what I am saying?"
I nodded, and she went on, looking
at me, and now and then at the old
woman.
"If they get me to London I am a
dead woman. You are mv last chance.
Will you help me?"
I nodded very hard indeed, and
looked at the communication with the
guard. She shook her head.
"Xo, that's no good. 1 must get
away at the next station. lie is safe.
Can you stop her from following me?"
I didn't believe I could. 1 might
have thrown a rug over Sammy anil
sat on him/or a minute or two, but
that old woman was too much forme.
I felt that directly she woke she'd see
what I was thinking of, and strangle
me oeiore i coma sur. xne preenms
minutes were flying?the miles were
hurrying past us in the outside gloom
?the girl's big woful eyes were fixed
on me in desperate appeal.
"I have friends who will save me if
I ean hut get to them," she panted.
"Just one minute's chance?only
one?"
All at once I had an idea. A splen
did one ! " Look at this," I whispered,
and held up my railway key. "If 1
, open this door, dare you get out. You
I can hold on outside until the train
stops. Run straight across the down
line. There is only a hank and a hedge
on the tup. Lot <if gaps in it nearer
the slation. There you are on the
Luckboro' road. Do you hear?"
I was quite hot and out of breath
with whispering all this as. plain as I
could. She caught every word as fast
as I could think it, almost.
"What with the feeling of my own
cleverness, hatred of that nasty old
woman and delight in spiting her,
and pity for the poor girl, I felt as
brave as any fellow, however big,
could be. and full of ideas as well.
"Give me that," 1 said, pointing to !
her blue veil. " They won't see you're
gone if I sit here with it tied over mv
head."
"Oh, no, no ! They'll kill you."
"Xot them! They can't interfere
with me." (I declare, I felt as if
I could fight Sammy and a dozen1
old ladies just then.) "Quick, now
or never." I tied the veil over j
my head and lowered the window as !
softly as possible. There was no time |
to lose, for the train was slackening
speed even then. T unlocked the door, j
She gave me one look that made me
feel braver than ever, and inclined to .
cry, both at once; and in a second s/u''
was out on the step. The train j
stopped. I saw her skirt flutter m ii;e <
stream of light that fell from our open |
carriage door across the down line of
rails, and that was all?and I was!
huddled down under the big plaid rug j
with the old woman, wide awake,
standing over me.
" Drat the boy. Sammy, call the I
porter; he's got out at the wrong i
side."
" Call-un-yer-self," answered Sammy,;
all in one word.
She pulled the door ty and tramped I
back to her seat, taking no more notice ]
of me than if I had been a cushion of
the carriage. " It don't matter if he '
has broken his neck either," she mut-1
tered. " nerhans we'd better make no I
fuss." The train was off again. I J
dared not jump up wuile she was in i
the way, and thought I must take my ;
chance at the next station.
"Oil! my hones and liody!" she I
groaned, presently. " Oh, what a time \
it has been! Sammy 1"
Xo answer.
"Sammy!" She was tip again and ;
I think she hauled him up and shook j
him, for something fell with a crash
like a broken bottle.
" You idiot," she screamed. "When
you want all the brains you've got |
and more too! To play me this trick?
Serve you right if I get out and leave j
you at the next station?ugh!"
It sounded as if she were banging
j his head against against the carriage.
' That and the fresh air seemed to rouse
: him. He got up and put his head out
j of the window for a short time, anil
I then replied, slowly and impressively:
"Now, look here, old woman. None i
; of your nonsense. When lie's wanted,!
i Samuel Nixon is all there. And no J
j man alive can say lie isn't." he went on
snlpmnlv lioldinnr enreftillv on to one !
: word till he was sure of the next. |
| "As to tins business, I ask you?is it
: mine or is it yours? Now, then ?"
I " Yours, I should think; as it's your j
|-wife who is giving us all this trouble, j
! I wish I'd left you to light it out yourj
selves."
"Stop this," said .Sammy, who was!
; talking himself sober and consequently j
: savage. "I'll not have it put upon :
me. I didn't want to marry her; that
( was your doing, and I don't want to !
; make away with her; that's your |
| doing, and it' it's a hanging matter,!
I I'm not the one to swing for it."
"Heaven forgive you, Sammy," said
j the old woman, evidently horribly
| seared. 'Don't ye talk that way to i
your poor old mother?don't. II' the
1 poor creature was only in her right
I mind she'd be the first to say her old
nurse was her best friend?the only one
j she had in the world when her pa died
i i. ? * r.?_ ??
auu ii'it iin.
Here she sniflled a little. Sammy |
gave ;i sort of derisive growl.
"An<l :is to her marrying you; it
! stood to reason that she must marry !
somebody, sometime, left all alone in
: the world with lier good looks and her j
; fortune; and why not my handsome
son? It was luck for you, Sammy,
| though you turn against me how,
; There you were, just come homo from
foreign parts, without a halfpenny in
1 your poeket or a notion where to find
i one; and there was she without a relation
or friend to interfere with you?
as simple as a hahv?not a creature to
stop her doing as she chose with her
self and her money. JI would have
heen a sin and a shame to lose such a
, chance. Of course, I wanted to see
; my handsome lad as good a gentleman
as the best <>f them." The old woman
seemed to he talking on and on puri
poselv, like telling a rigmarole to a
i - ? 1 .4- C.it.
! C111IU L?? It IJIIII-l. .'IIIIIIIM ?lWtWt:M
i again in a milder tone.
" Oh, yes. Say it's all my fault, do !
j You can talk black white when it
; pleases you."
I " It was your fault, Sammy. You
j might have lived happy and peaceable
! if you'd chosen. Haven't I been down
' on my bended knees to beg you to let
I her alone when you was treating her
! that shameful that the wlnjlo country
L side was ringing with it. You know
it, and others knew it. And 1 &urt tell
you what, Mr. Samuel Nixon, if
\
been found dead in her lied, as I expected
every morning of my life to
hear, there wasn't a servant in the
place that wouldn't have spoken up before
the coroner?ajid glad to do it.
Who'd have swung l'ur it then, I'd like
to know?"
The brute was mastered. I heard
him shunting his feet about uneasily;
then, in a maudlin whisper: "It was
drink, nothing else, and her aggravating,
winning ways. Don't be hard
nn me, old woman, I'm sure I've given
in hsindsomc tit :ill vmir nlans "
- I '
" Because you couldn't help yourself,
you fool. Now you sco what it is to
have your poor old mother to turn to.
Your wife may talk as much as she
pleases now. Who'll believe her when
we've got it written down by two j
grand London doctors that she's as j
mad as mad can lie? Who's to mind ;
her talk, or any one else's? Aren't we
taking her up to London just for the
good of her health, to a nice safe place
where she will lie well looked after and
kept from getting herself and the other
folks into any more trouble? Then
you and me will go back, Sammy, and
live as happy and comfortable as you
please."
" They will treat her like a lady?eh,
mother?"
"Of course they will; a beautiful
place and the best of living. Bless
you, she'll be happy as the day is long, I
It does you credit being so tenderhearted,
Sammy. I knew you couldn't
abide seeing her storming and raving
as she did last night, so I just gave her
a little sup of something before we
started, and you see she's been sleeping
like a baby ever since. And the gentleman?where
she's going, you know
?he gave me this bottle; and when we
get to London I've just to give her a
whiff of it oh a handkerchief, and off
she goes as quiet as a lamb. No
screams or tantrums this time; and lie
and his nurses will be on the lookout
for us with his carriage, and before she
knows it there she'll be as snug as you
jUfiUNt-.
This was awful!
What shall I do? Were wc ever
going to stop? Was there another
station before London? Should I be
drugged, dragged off and made away
witli? 1 knew if they found me out
it was all over with me. The pattern
of the blue Shetland veil danced before
my eyes?the noise of the train was as
the sound of the roar of artillery in my
ears. I sat up, ready for a spring and
a struggle.
A jerk! Another! A stop, and the
door Hung open.
" Tickets, please."
1 made one "plunge. I (lung the rug
clear over the old woman, dashed my
arm into Sammy's face, and tumbled
headlong out into the arms of the
astonished ticket-collector. I felt him
clutch me, and then the ground rose
up, or I went down?down?into an
unfathomable depth of darkness!
"Hullo! old fellow. Better now?"
were the lirst words I heard. Thompson's
voice! There he was with a glass
of water in his hand, stooping over me.
Thompson's mother was kneeling beside
me, cuddling me up against her
nice, soft sealskin. 1 was on the waitinor.rnntn
sof:i. :ind about a dozen neo
pie wore all standing staring round.
Thompson went and telegraphed home
that I was safe, anil then he and his
mother took me to the house in London
where they were staying.
I can't remember much after that.
I was ill for many weeks, I believe. I
tried to tell people what had happened,
but no one would listen. They try
even now t?? make me believe I dreamt
it in my illness. I've got it told now
though, and every word is solemn
truth. Upsides, didn't I see and smell
Letty burning the blue Shetland veil.
I've hud no more music lessons
since, that's one good thing.
The railway key ? Oh, I left that
sticking in the door.
That's all.?Argosy.
- . - - ....
Life in a .Montana Frontier Town.
The following amusing?desoriptiori
of the mixed life of a frontier town
is from E. V. Smalloy's paper on " The
Xew Northwest," in the Century:
The picturesque features of life in a
Western Montana town like Missoula
are best seen as evening approaches.
Crowds of roughly-clad men gather
around the doors of* the drinking saloons.
A group of Indians, who have
been squatting on the sidewalk for
two hours playing some mysterious
game of cards of their own invention,
breaks up. One of the squaws throws |
the cards into the street, which is i
already decorated from end to end with
similar relies of other games. Another
swings a liahy upon her
baelc, lies ;i shawl around it and j
herself, secures the child with ;i strap |
buckled across her chest and strides
off, her moccasined feet toeing inward j
in the traditional Indian fashion. She
wears a gown made of a scarlet calico I
bedquilt, with leggings of some blue
stuff; but she has somehow managed
to get a civilized dress for the child.
They all go off to their camp on the
hill near by. Some blue-coated soldiers
from the neighboring military post, remembering
the roll-call at sunset,
swing themselves upon their horses
and go galloping off, a little the worse
for the bad whisky they have been
drinking in the saloons. A miner
in blue woolen shirt and brown
canvas trousers, with a hat of astonishing
dimensions and a beard of a j
year's growth, trots up the street on a i
mule, and, with droll oaths and shuflling
talk, offers the animal for sale to
the crowd of loungers on the hotel
piazza. No one wants to buy, and,
after provoking a deal of laughter the
- 1 . ..m: i i\ mi l.:**.!.
miner gives ms luuiiiauiui. - i n mini |
the critter to one ol" tliein pia/./.er '
posts, and if lie don't pull it down you |
may have him." This generous offer
is declined l>y the landlord; and the
miner rides olf. declaring that he has
not a solitary .four-hit piece to pay for
his supper, and is bound to sell the ]
mule to somebody.
Toward nightfall the whole male
population seems to be in the street,
save the busy Chinamen in the laundries,
who keep on sprinkling clothes
bv blowing water out of their mouths.
Karly or late, you will find these indus- j
trious little yellow men at work. One
shullles back and forth from the by-1
drant, carrying water for the morning |
wash in old coal-oil cans hung to a
stick balanced across his shoulders?
More Indians now?a "buck" and
two squaws, leading ponies heavily !
laden with tent, clothes and buf-1
falo robes. ?. A rope tied around;
a pony's lower jaw is the ordi-,
nary halter and bridle of the Indians, j
These people want to buy some article I
at the saddler's shop. They do not go j
in, but stare through the windows for !
live minutes. The saddler, knowing
tin. Imliim w:iv 111' dealing, navs no at
tent ion to theiu. Alter a while they
all sit down on the ground in front of
the shop. Perhaps a quarter of an
hour passes before the saddler asks
what they want. If he had noticed
tin-in at lirst they would have gone
away without buying.
A Burning: Lake.
There is in Russia a fountain of
naphtha which has formed a lake lour
miles long by over a mile wide, and
two feet deep. This sheet of inllammable
oil recently took lire, including
tthe central fount, and the effect was
most imposing. The quantity of
naphtha on lire was estimated at four
! ami a half million cubic feet, and it
! was feared that the flames would ex'
plode the subterranean sources. Even
the earth saturated with oil was on
I lire, but no explosion occurred. The
heat was intolerable except at a dis
(Jlncier Accidents in Switzerland.
Glacier accidents generally arise
from falls into rifts hidden under a
\ layer of snow. In the summer of 16*29,
! the day being Tuesday, as three men
! of Lenk?Jacob Trachsel, Peter Blatter
and another?were crossing the Wiidhorngletcher
on their way home, Blatter
had the ill-luck to fall into a conj
cealed crevasse. Though not so badly
! hurt that he could not call out, he was
| too far down to be helped up without
I ropes. So it was agreed that Trachsel
should rtmain by the crevasse, while
j the third man, whose name the
record has not reserved, went to
the nearest habitation for ropes
and help. When lie returned Trachsel
had disappeared, and the rift into
which Blatter had fallen could not be
SUNDAY READING. .
Sometime.
It is a swoct, sweet song, warbled
to and fro among the topmost houghs
'of the heart and filling the whole air
| with such joy and gladness as the
i songs of birds do when the summer
morning comes out of dnrkness and
the day is born on the mountain. We
! have all our possessions in the future,
i which we cjUI "sometime." Beautiful
i flowers and singing birds are there,
i Oh, reader, be of good cheer! For all
| the good there is a golden "sometime;"
i when the hills and valleys of time are
I all passed; when the wear and lever,
the disappointment and sorrow, of life
are over, then there is the place and |
the rest appointed of (Jod. Oh, homestead!
over whose roof fall no shadows
or even clouds, and over whose threshold
the voice of sorrow is never heard;
built upon the eternal hills and standing
with the spires and pinnacles of
celestial beauty among the palm-trees
of the glorious city, those who love
God shall rest under thy shadows,
where there will he no more sorrow
nor pain, nor the sound of weeping
" sometime."?Ad cent Review.
' ItoliKiouH New* and NotCN.
There arc now 700,000 Protestants
in France.
The State of Michigan has 209 Congregational
churches.
One-half the cadets of West Point
are church members.
Edinburgh, Scotland, has been besieged
by the Salvation army.
New York city has twenty Lutheran
churches and Philadelphia thirty.
The Reformed church in America
has 509 churches anil SO,1(3/ communicants.
The sale of Bibles and other Christian
books in Japan is increasing
rapidly.
The head chief of the Pima Indians
has cut his hair short, dresses in
American clothes and regularly attends
church. Members of his tribe are
erecting a small chapel at Blackwater
The late Itev. I)r. Geo. W. Musgrave,
a Presbyterian pastor of Philadelphia,
bequeathed $30,000 to Princeton college,
to be invested till it reaches
$50,000, to found a Musgrave professorship,
and $17,000 to other Presbyterian
institutions.
Atlanta, Ga., shows, it is claimed
the best church record of any city in
the Union. "With a population of
nearly 50,000, it has forty-eight
churches, with a total membership of
18,950, and an average Sunday attend
anee of over 20,000.
A woman forgot to send home some
work on Saturday, On Sunday morning
she told a little girl who lived with
her to put on her things and take the
bundle under her shawl to the lady's
house. " Nobody will see it," she said.
"But is it not Sunday under my shawl,
aunty V" asked the child.
The Protestant Episcopal diocese of
Indiana presents the following statistics
: Clergy, twenty-nine; parishes,
forty-eight; baptisms, 105 of which
were adults, 429 ; communicants in
forty-live churches, 3,830; contributions
in thirty-four churches, ?57,122.
Diocese of Pittsburg : Clergy, 40;
parishes, 55; communicants, 6,010;
confirmations, 411; Sunday school
teachers, 495 ; scholars, 4,749 ; contributions,
$132,499.
A very pretty story is told of the
mother of Rev. i)r. Cuyler. of Brooklyn,
who recently completed her eightieth
birthday. She is too deaf to hear her
son preach, but every Sunday morning
before he is going to church he tells
her what he is going to preach about
and gives her an outline of his sermon,
and then she prays for him in her room
during the hours of service. She was
left a widow lifty-five years ago, when
her son was only four J-ears old.
Earope 1,000 Years A$o.
In the year 800 after Christ, what was
the state of Europe? The, Goths, the
Vandals, theFranks, the Huns, theNor-1
mans, the Turks and other barbarian
hordes had invaded and overthrown
the Human empire, and had established
various kingdoms upon its ruins.
These hordes of savages had destroyed,
not only all the works of civilization,
but civilization itself. Ignorant as
they were of everything that distinguishes
and elevates human nature,
they broke up the schools, ruined the
monuments, abolished arts and manufactures,
prevented commerce, and reduced
the conquered nations to their
own condition, inaugurating in the
completest manner the reign of bruteforce
and mental darkness. If they
afterward espoused Christianity they
molded it to their own savage superstition,
till at last naught was left of
the divine dispensation but its name i
to cover the most degrading idolatry
and demonism. At the time we begin
our specific examination we find that,
in the then so-called Christian nations,
there existed no science worthy of
---1 ..A. Ti 1
tne name, no scnoois wiuuovvr. m-.tuing,
writing and ciphering were separate
anil distinct trades. The masses,
the nobility, the poor and the rich were
wholly unacquainted with the mysteries
of the alphabet and the pen. A
few men, known as clerks, who generally
belonged to the priesthood, monopolized
them as a special class ol' artists.
taught tlieir businessjTheyonly
to their seminarists, apprentices; and i
beyond themselves and their few I
pupils no one knew how to read and ;
write, nor was it expected of the
generality any more than it would
nowadays that everybody should
be a shoemaker or a lawyer.
Kings did not even know how to sign
tlieir names, so that when they wanted
to subscribe to a written contract, law
or treaty which some clerk had drawn
up for them, tliey would smear tlieir
right hand with ink and slap it down
upon the parchment saying, " Witness
my hand." At a later date some genius i
devised the substitute of the seal,
which was impressed instead of the,
hand. Every gentleman had a seal j
with ;i peculiardevice thereon. Hence
the j.icrainental words now in use,
" Witness my hand and seal," allixcd
to modern deeds, serve at least the purpose
of reminding us of the ignorance
of the middle ages.?Popular Hrkncn
Monthly.
Too Late to Mend.
A sharp disciplinarian is General
flallifet. While directing tins maneuvers
of the French army on review at
Chalons recently lie noticed some errors
in the movements of a dragoon
brigade under the command of General
Clermont Tonnerre, one of the
oldest ollicers in the service. Quickly,
he directed the latter to repeat tlit'
movement. The veteran complied, after
! consulting with members of his stall',
; and through the evolutions constantly
received suggestions from them.
! At last, * Retire, gentlemen," cried
Gallifct: "you annoy the general."
"Xo" said the other, "they assist
me I do not understand these maneuvers,
and have a^ked these gentle
men to refresh my memory, so 1 may
not seem ignorant before the troops."
You do not understand the drill,"
i cried (la'lifet, pale with emotion.
"How can you expect it?" was the
| response. "I am in garrison, with two
I small squadrons and miserable, insufi
ficient drill-ground. Jint I can learn
it in eight days."
" In eight days," sai<l Gallifet. ' It
will be too late. I am obliged to ask
you to resign. Place your command
in the hands of the oldest of your colonels."
louncj. i lie ui -'i man and um jiicii
lie had brought w.th him after searching
and shouting until far into the
night gave up Blatter for lost, and
went away without the least hope that
they should see him again. But, to the
unspeakable surprise and almost consternation
of his neighbors, he turned
uptwo days later at his own house, not
much the worse, seemingly, for his adventure.
How he escaped is not men
innoil iiivtlmltlv liv rnnnincr ilnwn nnr>
V4V1ICU? 1""J Jr.
of the water courses, which run under
every glacier, to daylight.
Jacob Trachsel, who had left his post
on the crevasse simply because he was
weary of waiting, was tried at Lenk
for deserting his companion. Being
convicted of "faithlessness" he was sentenced
to three days' imprisonment and
to do the Ilerdfall, which signified asking
pardon publicly of God and man
on bended knees for the sin he had
committed.
In July, 1787, a similar accident befell
Christian Bohrer, of Grindelwald.
As he crossed the upper Grindelwald
glacier toward the Mettenberg a snow
avalanche threw him into a crevasse
seventy feet deep. Though his arm
was broken and his wrist dislocated in
the fall, he managed to work his way
under the glacier to the stream at its
base, and after a desperate struggle of
two days lie succeeded in escaping
from his icy prison.
The Natui'f/escJuchte des Svliicoizerlandes
tells of a very unpleasant ex
perienee which in the early part of the
last century befell a chamois-hunter of
the name of Kaspar Stoeri. As Stoeri
and two other hunters were in hot
chiise after chamois on the Linnnernalp
glacier, he disappeared as suddenly
as if he had been swallowed up
by an earthquake. lie had fallen into
a hidden crevasse. Ilis companion
peered fearfully into the hole down
which Stoeri had vanished, and thinking
that all was hver' with him, commended
hissoul to God. But when they
heard his voice faintly crying for help,
and perceived that he was clinging to a
ledge of the crevasse, they ran to a
goat-herd's hut hard by him in the
hope that they might possibly find there
a rope. They found only an old counterpane
too rotten to be of any use.
Meanwhile poor Stoeri was in fearful
plight?half his body in freezing glacier-water.
and holding on desperately
with hands and feet to the icy walls of
the rift, lie had given himself up for
lost, and was saying, as he thought, his
last prayer, when his comrades lowered
him a rope, which they had contrived
to make with their belts and part of
their clothes. lie grasped it joyfully
with both hands, his friends pulled
lustily, and Stoeri was just about to
thank Ileaven for his happy escape,
when one of the belts gave way, and
down he fell again. The second misfortune
was worse than the first; Stoeri took
part of the line down with him, and
in the descent one of his arms was
badly broken. But lie lield on with
the other, and by splitting their belts
his companions made the extemporized
belts long enough to reach him a second
time. As one arm rested on the
ledge, and as he dared not remove it
for fear of falling further into the
abyss and being drowncdjn the water,
of' which the crevasse was nearly full,
he had to bend the rope round his body
with the broken limb, which caused
him terrible anguish. This time the
belt held, and Stoeri was safely landed
on the glacier. As his .companions
drew him out of the hol^' Jie fell into
a dead faint, and it was along time "before
he came round and could btf removed
to his home.
But not every one who falls into a
crevasse is equally fortunate. In 1821
M. Mouron, a clergyman from Vevey,
while crossing the Lower Grindelwald
glacier, went down a rift seven hundred
feet deep. When his guide (to
whom he ought to have been attached
by a rope) reported the accident at
Grindelwald, a suspicion arose that the
1
pour lllcUl 11 ill l 1JCC11 luuinu hum iiiiiidercd,
and his body thrown into the
crevasse to conceal the crime. In
order to ascertain the truth, another
guide was tied to a rope and lowered
into the abyss. After several attempts,
the man, though lie suffered much
from cold and bad air, succeeded in
fastening the corpse to his own body,
and so carried it to the surface. M.
Mouron's watch and purse being found
intact in his pockets, the guide was
freed from the suspicion which rested
upon him, and his character for honesty,
if not for efficiency, redeemed.
In the year 1820 three guides were
swept into, a crevasse at the head of
the Grand Plateau at the foot of the
,.f Til.n.f. +li;in
1JI1U1 \tL .uwiiui j/iiutvi a-av*V,
forty years after they had been buried
in their icy tomb the remains of these
unfortunate men were found near the
end of the (Jlacier des Bossins, whither
they had drifted with the moving ice,
miles below the rift in which they
were engulfed.
A Hunter's Extraordinary Shot.
The .Santa Fe (X. M.) News tells the
champion hunting story of the season:
II. J. Sheldon left his camp at Cooper
City, on the Pecos, New Mexico, last
Saturday afternoon in search of game.
Saturday night he camped at the upper
forks of the river, and Sunday,
bright and early, '.as again on the
march. About 4 o clock in the afternoon
tin.' burro, which had wandered
ahead, fame running back, apparently
in great terror, ears and tail erect,
eyes glaring, making that peculiar
mournful sound for which its species
is noted, and refusing to be; caught or
comforted. Not being able to make
out from the report of the confused
burro just what had happened, Mr. S.
cocked his gun and advanced slowly
and cautiously on the unknown enemy.
j Crawling along on his hands and knees
| for abovt a quarter of a mile, he at
length doubled a bend in the river, and
there, standing in full view in the
1 meadow, and not more than loO yards
i i i
I ilWilV, lit* JSil \\ il j*l 1A/.M IM'iU >t llll
: three cubs, ami, just beyond the hear
i and in direct range with her, an animal
that he at- once recognized as the long'
sought-for elk. Neither of the beasts
j were aware of his approach, so, quietly
; rising upon one knee ami resting his rifle
i across tlieother, which is Mr S.'s l'avori
ite position in shooting, lie took a deliberate
aim. Rang went the gun, away
i sped the bullet and down fell two anii
mals?in fact, three?the bear, the elk
and Mr. S. himself. The bullet had
: cut the backbone of the bear completely
in two, and passing through
had lodged in the heart of the elk, and
the extraordinary task to which the
j rille had been subjected produced such
j a violent recoil that the hunter himj
self was stretched flat upon the ground.
Recovering himself speedily, Mr. >S.
I advanced upon the prey, hunting-knife
in hand, but life was extinct in both
animals. The little cubs ?ri hearing
the report of the gun lied, but being
only a few weeks old were speedily
SCIENTIFIC NOTES.
It hius been estimated that there are
about 6,000 species of birds, of which i
five-sixths are known. The Coues list
of North American birds now embraces .
888 species, 120 new species having
been added during the last eight years. (
It is well known that a constant
succession of sound-waves excites vi- (
brations in the wires of suspension
bridges and they increase in force with ,
the continuance of the cause. For
this reason soldiers marching over
these bridges are required to break 1
step and bands of music are not al- 1
lowed to play on them.
It is estimated by Professor Brewer, !
of Yale college, that there may be 800
species of wood plants growing native
in the United States, of which about i
300 attain a height of thirty feet and
about 250 are tolerably abundant somewhere.
Excluding semi-tropical species ]
on the extreme southern border, and j
some others that are rare, there would
still remain about 120 species, of
which about twenty grow to 100 feet, ,
twelve to 200 and Jive or six to 300
feet or over. Of these 120 about fifty
are conifers.
Professor Reinsch, in a lecture lately j
delivered, gave the results of his researches
regarding the manner in which
coal had been formed. lie had exam- ,
ined with the microscope not less than ,
2,500 sections of coal, and had come to ,
the conclusion that coal had not been '
formed by the alteration of accumula
ted land plants, but that it consisted of J
microscopic forms of a lower order of ]
protaplasm, and although he had care- '
fully examined the cells and other remains
of plants of a higher order, he i
computed that they have contributed 1
only a fraction of the mass of coal 1
veins, however numerous they may '<
have been in some instances. He referred
to the fact that.Dr. Muck, of ]
Bochum, held that alga? have mainly '<
contributed to the formation of coal, 1
and that marine plants were rarely <
found in coal because of their tendency
to decompose, and that calcareous re- <
mains of mollusks disappeared on ac- j
count of the rapid formation of car- ;
bonic acid during the process of carbon- 1
ization
Chinese Theatricals.
It is considered a benevolent act 1
and one highly pleasing to Heaven 1
for a Chinaman to give a public theat- ;
rical performance; and wealthy men ]
who are ambitious, and who cater for 1
popularity, often expend considerable <
4.Ki? I ,
on J us in i/i im ? a>.
In Cliefoo n rich Chinaman living <
in our neighborhood, who had of late (
years been very successful in his coin- ]
mereial speculations and had recently
obtained by purchase the rank of a ;
high-class mandarin and the privilege <
of wearing an opaque blue button on
the top of his oilicial hat, gave an ex- *
tensive thanksgiving performance in
public, to which we were invited. lie
selected a large open space close to his 1
own residence and there had a stage \
erected, opposite to which a large temporary
box was constructed fW the '
use of himself and his friends.
On our arrival at the. place our host J
came forward and received us with '
that formal politeness which is observable
amongst the Chinese better classes,
and we soon found ourselves in a roomy !
and comfortable apartment, where seats
were at once provided for us. in the
middle of the box was placed a large
table or altar, which groaned under
the weight of tiie good tilings provided
as thanksgiving offerings to heaven.
The innumerable varieties of Chinese
dishes were here represented; roast
ducks decorated with gilt paper, sweetmeats
of all kinds, cakes plentifully bespangled
with raisins and currants,
imitation little pigs formed of pork,
fruits in great variety, pig?,'.feet garnished
with bruised potatoes, anil a
quantity of dishes whose composition
and names are unknown to Europeans,
were spread out in promiscuous :md 1
rich profusion.
The principal compartment, in which
we sat, was Hanked on either side by
two small boxes, in front of which
were screens which, while concealing
the inmates from the vulgar gaze, permitted
from within a view of the stage
and the movements thereon; these
were reserved for the native female
connections of the host and his friends.
In the meantime tea was ordered for
us, and a servant placed a small table, 1
or " tea-poy," itt front of us, on which i
he arranged Chinese cups, and poured i
into them some genuine Chinese tea ire j
consumed by the natives tiftjnselves. '
It is a weak and insipid production, of <
the color of pale sherry, and tastcJ i
more of hot water than of tea; no milk or
sugar is mixed with it, and what <
with the awkward-shape of the cups ]
with their embarrassing lids, and the J
uninviting nature of the beverage, a <
mm nf tea ;l la Chinoise is not a boon <
mucli sought for by foreigners. On <
this occasion we made as few faces i
over it as we could in presence of our
host, and we managed to sip a little
without much inconvenience.
For some time we sat and watched
the actors and listened to their shrill
voices. The stage bad no "wings" to
it, and the only entrances were two
do rs at the back, through which the
actors enter.ed when their turn came
round and retired when they had performed
their allotted part. The imaginations
of the audience were not as
sisted by scenery or stage accessories
of any kind; indeed, the entire back
of the stage was occupied by the orchestra
and by attendants and hangers
on, who went about their occupations
as if nothing else .were taking place
on the boards. (
The box in which we sat was open (
in front, and had not the advantage [ i
possessed by the boxes in which the j I
Chinese ladies sat unobserved, so that j;
in spite ot' the gorgeous dresses on the ]
stage, in spite of the vigorous strum- i
ming of the orchestra, in spite of the j '<
falsetto shrieking of the actors, and ?
the merits of the piece itself, a large 11
proportion of tiie audience turned their j (
hacks on the stage, and the foreigners <
became the attraction on which the j (
concentrated gaze of the multitude j?
was firmly set. Whatever little interest
we might have commenced to
take in the performance being now
completely checked by this dcmonstra (
tive attention on the part of the crowd ; (
we rose and quickly took our departure; j
leaving the actors in undisputed p<?s?; j
,,f 1lw>ir riiditv! :isj cutcrcrs to I
nr.miuji wi nix 11 .... ..... _ ,
tin? amusement o" the multitude. I j
All Historical Gorge. 1 j
Among tins Capon mountains 0/ j ]
Hampshire county, West Virginia, is a t
gorge, called Hanging Hock, which I:
possesses more than ordinary historical j 1
and romantic interest. A narrow road j <
runs along the side of a brawling I I
stream, and above it. on either hand the 1
wooded cliffs rise to a height of sev- 11
eral hundred feet. A hand of Catawba : t
Indians who were encamped in the gap j1
in 17-'51 were set upon by a party of '
hostile Dclawarcs and totally exter- i
minated. A few years later some!!
prowling Frenchmen and Indians nrai j;
from an ambus!, on Ensign Daniel 11
Morgan, " the hero of Stillwater and j
the 'Cowpens," who was passing 1
through the gap hearing dispatches to |:
Winchester. Two soldiers who were '
with him fell from their horses dead,: i
while Morgan, with the blood stream-1;
ing from a terrible bullet-wound,
clasped Ids mare about the neck with !
both arms and was borne safely back j
to a neighboring fort, ./here lie was i
lifted from the saddle insensible. In
18G4 the gorge was tl ) scene of a
fierce cavalry light between some roving
troopers from the Federal and
Confederate armies. Recently, sur
veyors liave located the route by the
Baltimore, Cincinnati and Western
mmmm
WISE WORDS.
It is wisdom to think and folly to
3it without thinking.
* It is a good rule to he deaf when a
slanderer begins to talk.
Charity gives itself rich, but coveto'usness
hoards itself poor.
Every one of our actions is rewarded
or punished, only we do not admit it.
Life is just long enough for a man
oo ueciue w nere ne win spend eternity.
Xature has sometimes made a fool,
hut a coxcomb is always of man's own
making.
It is easy enough to forgive your
enemies, if you have not the means to
liarm them.
It is a fact worth remembering that
it does not take half so long to make a
wound as to heal one.
We should not measure the excellence
of our work by the trouble that
it has cost to produce it.
"When alone guard your thoughts;
when in the family guard your temper;
when in company guard your
words.
Foundations are good, and paths are
?ood; but they are not enough. Foundations
were made to build on; paths
were made to walk in.
There is no time in a man's life when
lie is so great as when he cheerfully
bows to the necessity of his position
:ind makes the best of it.
The best receipt for going through
life happily is to feel that everybody,
no matter how rich or how poor, needs
ill the kindness lie can get from others.
This life is not ordained in vain; it
is constituted for a grand purpose, if
through its lessons of experience we
become convinced that this life is not
ill.
What men want is not talent, it is purpose;
in other words, not the power to
ichieve but will to labor. I believe
that labor judicious and continuously
ipplied*becomes genius.
Much talk and much judgment selloni
go together, for talking and thinking
are two quite different qualities,
ind there is commonly more depth
where there is less noise.
A Newport Romance.
The Jewish cemetery lies nllf far
from the synagogue in the sweep made
Uv TaT-iv utrppf-. whnrft if. inins Tnnrn.
In this quiet spot twelve Jewish families
lie buried, and as we stood beneath
the trees that spread protecting arms
Dver the graves, Longfellow's poem,
written after a visit to this cemetery,
L-aine most vividly to mind. One verse
^specially, as we looked at the neatlyicept
flower-beds, the turf so soft and
well-cared for, the buds that bloomed
ibove the dead, came to our lips:
3one are the living, but the dead remain
And not neglected, for a hand unseen,
Scattering its bounty like a summer rain,
Still keeps their graves and memory green.
In the inclosure are two graves so
a ear each other that as you stand by
me your shadow falls upon the other;
within them sleep two lovers, separated
luring life but united long since by
Icntli. Judah Touro and Catherine
flays were cousins, and among the
Jews it is a crime for those so near of
tin to marry. True to the religion and
traditions of their race they separated
never to marry again, although they
lived to be old people. Neither of
them married, content with the memDry
of their love and the hearing of
?ach other's welfare from mutual
friends. They both died in January,
1754, when he was seventy-nine years
Df age and Catherine was seventy-seven,
[lis name waS the last word she
uttered, and in his delirium before
leath called him he talked of walking
n a beautiful garden with Catharine
[lays, his lirst and only love. Juilah
Tuoro, however, did not let disappointment
embitter his life, for he spent it
n active benevolence, and from a fund
left by him the means are provided to
keep the cemetery in order. It is told
)f him that he built churches in Xew
Orleans for all sects, even contributing
towards the erection of a Unitarian
place of worship. On his monument
the following words.are cut: "The
last of his name, lie inscribed it in the
iiook of philanthropy to be rememberd
forever."?Neirport (It. I.) Letter.
Logging in Neyada.
A chute is laid from the river's
brink up the steep mountain to the
railroad, and, while we are telling it,
the monster logs are rushing, thundering,
Hying, leaping down the declivity.
They come with the speed of a thunderbolt
and somewhat of its roar. A
track of smoke and fire follows them
?fire- ?truck by the friction witli the
jhute logs. .They descend the 1,700
feet of the shute in fourteen seconds,
[n doingso they drop TOO feet perpendicularly.
They strike the deep water
with a report that can be hearcTa. ipjle
listant. Logs fired from a cannon
'ould scarcely have a water velocity
than they have at the foot of a chute.
The average velocity is over 100 feet
in a second throughout the entire distance,
and at the instant they leap
From the mouth their speed must he.
Fully 200 feet per second.
A sugar-pine log sometimes weighs
ten tons. What a missile! IIow the
water is dashed into the air. Like a
.jrand plume of diamonds and rainbows
.lie feathery spray is hurled to the
leight of one hundred feet. It forms
;he grandest fountain ever beheld. IIow
the waters foam and seethe and lash
?11 i /?twi lmr hnvinrr I
11IU nilWli; , v/? tu ? ~--~n
spent its force by its mad plunge into
:he deep waters, has floated so as to be
it right angles with the path of the
lescending monsters. The mouth of
;he chute is perhaps fifteen feet above
:he surface of the water. A huge log,
uirled from the chute, cleaves the air j
ind alights on the lloating log. You
<no\v how a bullet glances ; but can
roil imagine a saw-log glancing? The
ml strikes with a heavy shock, but
glides quickly past for a short distance,
hen with a crash like the reverbera;ion
of artillery the falling log springs
vertically into the air, and with a
urve like a rocket falls into the water,
i long distance from the log it struck.
Terrible Scene in a Menagerie.
A Paris correspondent writes that a
:errible afi'air has occurred at Cannes
;o a member of Sanger's circus troupe.
V negro, who was replacing the lionamer.
who was wounded at Frevjiis,
ivas entering the lions' cage, when his
not slipped and lie fell on bis face.
The lions, with their natural instinct,
ushed upon the prostrate man and repeatedly
tore his flesh, a young one
. specially holding him with persistence
ind tearing his thigh. An assistant
ushed to his rescue and repelled four
>f the lions with his pitchfork, but the
iftli refused to let go tin a red-iiot Mar [
iad been thrust down hisivoulh, wiie.i i
;he unfortunate negro, still conscious,
Iragged himself out of the cage and j
ivas carried oil' bleeding prol'u;,ely. j
The spectators, meanwhile, were almost
paralyzed with horror, which was
soon changed into panic when it was
perceived that the door was open for
lit least thirty seconds while the negro
was being carried oil'. The lions might
have sprung upon the assembly. A
rush was made to the entrances, and
the alarm, which spread outside, was
only ended by the opportune action of
iin assistant, who slammed the door of
the cage. The poor negro having
reached the hospital, though accompanied
by a doctor, was refused admission
because he was without an order,
lie was taken back to t'ie circus and
again to the hospital, where he was
finally admitted. This gross mismanagement
cost him his life, for he died
from the loss of blood entailed during
the double journey. This is the third
accident which has occurred to this
Monkeys in India.
In India, where the monkeys live
among men and are the playmates of
their children, the Hindoos have grown
so fond of them that the four-handed
folk participate in all their simple
household rites. In the early morning
when the peasant goes out to yoke his
plow, and the crow wakes up, and the
dog stretches himself and shakes off
the dust in which he has slept all night,
the old monkey creeps down from the
peepul-tree, only half awake, and yawns
and looks about him, puts a straw in
his mouth, and scratches himself contemplatively.
Then one by one the whole family
come slipping down the tree trunk,
and they all yawn and look about and
scratcli. But they are sleepy and
peevish, and the youngsters get cuffed
for nothing, and begin to think life
dull. Yet the toilet has to be performed,
and whether they like it or
not, the young ones are sternly pulled
up one by one to their mother to
undergo the process. The scene,
though regularly repeated every
morning, loses nothing of its
ueugniiiu comicauty, ana trie
monkey brats never tire of the joke of
"taking in mamma" But mamma
was young herself not long ago, and
treats each ludicrous affectation of
suffering with profoundest unconcern
"nd as she dismisses one "cleaned"
youngster with a cuff, stretches out
her hand for the next one's tail or leg
in the most business-like and 3erious
manner possible. The youngsters
know their turns quite well, and as
each one sees the moment arriving it
throws itself on its stomach, as if overwhelmed
with apprehension, the others
meanwhile stilling their laughter at
the capital way so-and-so is doing it,
and the instant the maternal paw is
extended to grasp its tail the subject
of the next experiment utters a dolorous
wail, and throwing its arms forward
in the dust, allows itself to be
dragged along, a limp and helpless
carcass, winking all the time, no doubt,
at its brothers and sisters, lit the way
it is imposing on the old lady.
Hut the old lady will stand no nonennen
on/1 fni?ninr? flm nlii 1 /I Qlilo
CU1U lUiAJUi^ l/ll^ V*11111 li^UV UlUt
up, proceeds to put it to rights; takes
the kinks out of its tail and the knots
out of its fur; pokes its fingers into
its ears, and looks at each of its toes,
the inexpressible brat all the time
wearing on its face an absurd expression
of hopeless and incurable grief.
Those who have been already cleaned
look on with delight at the screaming
iarce, while those who are waiting
wear a becoming aspect of enormous
gravity. The old lady, however, has
her joke too, which is to cuff every
youngster before she lets it go; and
nimble as her offspring are, she generally,
to her credit be it said, manages
t.<> give eacn of them a box on the
ears before it is out of reach. The
father, meanwhile, sits gravely with
his back to all these domestic matters,
waiting for breakfast.
The monkeys by this time have
come closer to the preparations for
food, and sit solemnly, household by
household, watching every movement.
Hindoos do not hurry themselves in
anything they do, but the monkey has
lots of time to spare and plenty of patience,
and in the end, after the crow
has stolen a little, and the dog has had
its morsel, and the children are all
satisfied, the poor fragments of the
meal are thrown out on the ground for
the " bhunder-logue" (the monkey
people), and it is soon discussed, the
mother feeding the baby before she
eats herself.
"When every house has thus in turn '
lioon vieifpil :inrl nn HtanrA nf further
vrww* f ??? "" ? ?
" out-door relief " remains, the monkeys
go off to the well. The women are
all here again, drawing the water for
the day, and the monkeys sit and wait,
the old ones in the front, sententious
and serious, and the youngsters rolling
about in the dust behind them, till at
last some girl sees the creatures waiting,
and " in the name of Ham " spills
a lotah full of water in a hollow of
the ground, and the monkeys come
round it in a circle, and stoop down
and drink, with their tails all curled
up over their backs like notes of interrogation.
There is no contention or
jostling. A forward child gets a box
on the ear perhaps, but each one, as it
has satistied its thirst, steps quietly out
of the circle and wipes its mouth. The
day thus fairly commenced, they go
off to see what luck may brings them.
The grain dealer's shop tempts them
to loiter, but the experience of pre
vioiid attempts makes theft hopeless; i
for the bunnya, with all his years, is
very nimble on his legs and an astonishing
good shot with a pipkin. So the
monkeys merely make their salaams to
him, and pass on to the fields. If the
corn is ripe, they can soon cat enough !
for the day; but if not, they go wan-1
dering about picking up morsels, here j
an insect and there a berry, till the sun !
geta too hot, and then they creep up!
into the dark shade of the mango tope i
and snooze through the afternoon. In
the evening they are bacit if. the village
again to share in its comforts and
entertainments.
They assist at the convocation of the j
elders and the romps of the children, j
looking on when the faquir conies!
up to collect his little dues of salt and }
corn and oil, and from him in their j
turn exacting a pious toll. They listen ,
gravely to the village musician till i
they get sleepy, and then one by one j
they clamber up into the peepul.
The Decoration of the Grave.
The Xew York Etenia;/ Pout's octogenarian
merchant, -Mr. J)cgraw, says
in one of his chapters of reminiscences:
I was the lirst person in this country, j
so far as I know, to cover a grave with j
(lowers. 1 got the idea from some of |
the Uritisli poets, who wrote of an old
custom in England. Having long had
a fondness for Mowers (Mr. Degraw
was for thirteen years the president of
the Brooklyn Horticultural society),
and keeping many of them in my garden,
I went to the grave of a friend who had
heen buried the day befoiv at Hempstead.
L. I., and covered it with some |
of the most beautiful and fragrant j
varieties in my possession. It was early j
one Sunday morning, in the yard in .
front of the Methodist church, and {
when tliehour for service approached,
I took mv stand near by to see the
effect of the (lowers, for no person could i
enter the church from the street with-1
out passing by the grave which I had |
decorated. I noticed thnt the family of j
the dead lady were deeply affected l>v '
the tribute i had paid, and the worshipers
in general were evidently
stuck by it. The news soon spread ,
through the village that the grave was |
covered with llowers. and hundreds of
persons went to see the sight.
A Musical Prodigy.
The son of David Xeal, the famous!
American painter, who lives in Munich,
at the age of nine years exhibited the !
most marvelous musical powers, and J
heard his own compositions played by
the band of the famous Prince Royal;
regiment. He was lifted above the!
heads of people and musicians to,
receive the applause and their re-,
cognitions as a composer. The new j
Mozart they call him. lie is now
eleven years old, and is all the time
composing, lie improvised on the
piano while he wore bibs. In one of
his letters at Christmas to the "Cbristkind,"
he mentioned but one gift, and that
the most involved and learned
volume of essays on composition. For '
days after receiving it lie was up at 5
o'clock in the morning devouring its j
pages. Strauss has been to see him,!
taken him in his arms and shed .some
tears over him.
Never lend your ivy. plant, because
mmrn
A Harvest Scene.
The waving grain thntjlate was green,
And like a clonk the land did fold,
Assumed at length a hue of gold,
And fell before the sickle keen.
The yellow shocks as thickly stand
As martial tents in War's domain;
But there is naught of leaden rain?
The hosts of peace possess the land.
The scene is changed, and slow doth ride .
The swaying load on spacious rack; - H
And far and near do rick and stack
Arise in monumental pride.
Again I look, and there doth pour,
Amidst the thresher's deafening sound,
As slow the teams go round and round, .
A wtrnnm 11Irr? mnlfnn rrnlrlan nrn : *\
IIUMOK OF THE DAT. M
Go to the butcher's i f you would hear
joint debates. BbH|
The cultured no longer call it hash.. 'vHH
Mosaic nutriment is the correct form.-r-K^^^B
Arcliimedes invented the slang
phrase, "Give us a rest," when
offered to move the world with
"Do you want fast colors?" queried
the dry goods clerk. " No, indeed
she answered, with a blush; " Charlle^-^^HH
doesn't like anything fast."
"Is this the Adams house?" asked
a stranger-of a Bostonian. ".Yes/' ^sHH
was the reply, " it's Adam's house until
you get to the rcof?then it's eaves." - ;^H|
The young man who wants to look"
tony this winter will have to get some- :
thing different from an ulster. A red
and white blanket, buttoned under the
chin, would attract attention. 7'
They were talking about dogs?the '. JIH
habits, comparative intelligence, etc.,
of those sagacious animals?when '^^^H
young llutherbert said: "Well* eir, | H
my dog's a dandy, lie is. You ought
to just see him Isometimes. Honestly,
I believe he has more sense than
have." "That's a very doubtful compliment
for the dog," said Mr. Gloomy,
who sat over in the confer.
"Now, the beauty of a paper collar,"
the Burlington Hawkeye reports the
honorable member as saying, as he '
coaxed a refractory pin, "is its economy.
You wear one a week. Then yotr $? HI
turn it, and wear it another week^^aB^Bj
Then you split it, and you have twonevi^M^^B
collars with one c'ean' side, good for^ fl^H
another week, each of 'em." And ad- ^H|
justing the llat scarf over his red ilannel 9 H
shirt he went down to dinner. XB|
Science of Ferfumes.
By a process known as enileurage,
which .s the exposure of beef fat to^^HMj
fresh flowers in close boxes until it
thoroughly permeated and charged-^j^^J
with their odors, the perfumes of s
llowers are obtained, which could
nn r>thpr ninnnr-r known to science be
preserved apart from the fresh petals.
Those flowers are violet, jasmin, tube-'
rose, rose, orango Hoover and cassic
(cinnamon llower). From these six y
there are fifty or more combinations
made for the simulation of the odors
of other (lowers. Sweet pea is made^^^^H
with jasmin and orange fiowers, hya-'-^aij^M
cinth is counterfeited by jasmin!
and tuberose; lily of the vaM^fj^^H
ley by violet and tuberose. But the^j^^H
resources of the perfumer are by no
means confined to the pomades, as the
scented fats are termed. He uses many H
essential oils, tlie principal of whicfai;^^ H
are sandalwood, bergamot, lemon, rose- ijMH
mary, neroli (made from bitter orange
flowers), paschouli and the attar of f
roses. It is very difficult to get the^^^^^H
last named in a pure state, because' its
great cost tempts to dishonest adul- '
teration. Very often rose-geraniun^roSMjB
oil is substituted for it. Musk is an*
other important ingredient, entering as
it does into almost Jill perfumes, ex^Ajl^Hj
cept those which are actually imitations
of flower odors, or as styled by .
perfumers, "natural "?as, for instance,
heliotrope, tuberose, white rose and.
Living: Chessmen.
The Rev. C. C. Chevallier, the vicar
of Heighington, in England, in order * "^D
to raise a fund to provide bells for the ..a^H
parish church, arranged, says the Poll
Mall Gazette, for a game of chess to
played in Bedford park, by players
were dressed to represent the different
pieces on the chessboard. The day was
fine and a large and fjishionable company
was attracted from Darlington, v tjkSB
Bishop Auckland and other parts^^^fl^H
the district. ^Fhere was a considen^H|
space of green sward roped off in
n-.ri- u iiiMi wals laid out in squaflgH^T^DI
The band escorted the opposing
on to the ground, who marched in
cession and presented a most pictjHHIg^H
esque appearance in iheir fifteenth cSflj EH
tury costume. The prevailing ctfoiflH Bg
the costume of the players on one
was green and on i le other red.
pawns were dressed as page? of
fifteenth century, with long-powflgk?|^B^H
shoes and tights. The castles
imitations of the castles known
chess, consisting of canvas in whip^^fflf^H
t^)iir young ladies were enveloped. Tfi^S bishops
app?Vfl tn .bishops' jcostuuite
those in red being the 'tssMim lfl.two
gentlemen who directed
ers were tlie Rev. C. C. Chovallier * aiid v^^^Bj
Mr. Johnson, of the ITeighidgt(m|^H^^H
school. The moves were faultless^^^^^H
made, showing that the players had
been well drilled. ,'i^H
A Husband's Present.
A gentleman sauntered into a largft^|gE^H
dry goods store in the city of L
few days before Christmas, and remarked
casually to the attentive clerk: V;4H
"I want something for a Christmas <
present for mv wife. What have you
r> .
The clerk suggested various things, '
but the customer seebied not quite satAt
last lie asked, " Have you cotton
" 1 need some new shirts. How flB
much cloth does it take for a shirt?"
4i About four yards." .
Well, 'et's see. I want eight new fll
shirts. Eight times four are thirtytwo.
I'll take thirty-two yards."
The gratitude of the wife at receiv- . .^B
ing as a Christmas present the cloth
for eight new shirts for her husband H
can better be imagined than described. H
?Harper's Mayuzinc. |H
Earnings and Savings.
According to Mr. Edward Atkinson
luit half of tlie 52,000,000 people of the
I'nited .States can be reckoned in the
working force of the nation. The
earnings of this working force, male
and female, cannot exceed an average
of $1 a day each for the 365 days of the
year, so that the annual income of the
people, in round numbers, is $10,000,000,000.
He estimates that the suste- , j
nance of our population averages fortylive
cents a day for each man, woman
and child, so that ninety cents of every
dollar earned is consumed, leaving but
ten per cent, of the annual earnings to
maintain existing capital and increase
the nation's wealth. His opinion is *
that the increase in wealth is less than
$500,000,000 annually. Ilis purpose
in this exhibit is to encourage economy.
Learn to work more thoroughly, more
savingly; 10 hum* ?t> ukku ?k>
with as little waste as possible, is his B
injunction. B
The four largest European cities
have together 8,28^,000 inhabitants, I
London having 3,832,440, Paris 2,225,- B
000. Berlin 1,222.000, and Vienna, B
1,103,000. London has irore inhabi
tants than all Switzerland or the kingdom
of Saxony. J^jj
" There's no time like the presen^^^^^^H
gleefully reni^fked the bo^ who