The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 09, 1883, Image 1
ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER1!
BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, MAY 9, 1883. NO. 47. VOLUME XXVII. MB
THE COMMON LOT.
Death levels all things in hi? inarch.
Nought can resist his mighty strength,
The palace and triumphal arch
Shall fill their shadow's length.
The rich and poor one common bed
Shall find in the unhonored grave:
And weeds shall crown alike the head
Of monarch and of slave.
FOREGONECOXCLUSIOXS.
" I think, Pamela clear, we might as
well dine at the table d'hote."
" Oh, aunt, impossible!"
"Why, dear child?"
" Imagine to yourself the people one
meets in a place like this. Probably
we should lind ourselves sitting next
to one of our own tradesmen."
?t fhint it. rnthpr amusinc to see
A W"'"" *v - ??? ? O
a little of life," remarks Mrs. Sinclair.
"I do not mind dining at a table
d'hote when I have a man of my own on
each side of me," says Pamela; "but
two women alone?it is not to he
thought of! We should both have to
sit next to some one."
"But you need not talk to your
neighbor."
"Naturally not. I5ut the horror is
sure to pass me the salt; and, on the
strength of that, try to get into conversation
with me. He will say it's a 'ot
day or a cold day, or the 'otel is very
. full or very hempty or something
^ equally original. And though I should
r sit upon him immediately, it's unpleasant
to have to snub people, and upsets
one's digestion."
"Let us try it for once." says Mrs.
Sinclair, persuasively. " We shall get
a much better, and a much cheaper
dinner than if we dine in our own room, :
and it amuses me to watch the people."
"But who on earth is to find an ]
appetite by six-thirty ? " objects Pamela, i
raising her eyebrows with a dissatisfied i
expression. i
" We will go for a drive, and then ]
get a blow on the pier, and after that
we shall, no doubt, be quite ready for i
an early dinner." ]
" Oh, of course, if you make a point <
of it! But I am sure it's a great mis- <
take. And what do you suppose Lord <
Nelson would think if he saw us there
* . _ At n ?;
or Heara ot our oeing mere r .
" My dear child. 1 really don't see
why you should take it for granted j
that we are the only decent people in ]
the hotel. It is quite on the cards that ?
other ladies and gentlemen may want ;
sea air, and chose this place as being j
quiet and healthy, and not very far i
from London." (
Pamela does not answer in words, j
but merely taps her parasol on the
floor in a manner suggestive of un- (
belief and irritation. ]
She is not an unamiable young lady j
?in fact, no one can be more charm- (
ing, or take more pains to please, than <
Miss Pamela Clifford, when she finds j
herself in congenial company; but j
^ British instincts are powerfully de- j
veloped in her; she lias a rooted mis- ,
trust of unknown traveling compan- j
ions, and people to whom she has not (
been introduced; an utter disbelief in ^
anything cheap; with other little in- (
sular prejudices which a true Briton j
entertains, and is exceedingly proud of ,
entertaining. To her equals (when she j
is aware of their equality) she is (
charming; to her inferiors her manner ^
is simply perfect. As her maid says, j
" Though she looks rather "aughty, she ,
is a most affable young lady." ?
Mrs. Sinclair betakes herself to don \
*** 3
her waiKing auire, auu raiuwa s
from her pocket a letter received that g
morning, and reads over twice the fol- g
lowing passage: \
"Melton thinks of going down to f
in a day or two. I have talked ^
to him so much about you that he is t
dying lo make your acquaintance, and ^
is, I believe, quite prepared to fall head t
over ears in love with you. liemem- r
ber, my dear, twelve thousand a year r
and a charming place in shire!"
After reading this, Pamela's spirits j
revive. She is an ambitious young .
lady, and perfectly aware of the fact j
that, at twenty-three years of age, it is j
high time for a woman to have settled t
herself in life and taken up her a
definite position in the world. She c
has been the victim of a violent pas- r
sion, which ruined the three best years t
of her life; her heart has been broken r
and nearly repaired; it is like an ele- f
gant Sevres vase which has been shat- e
tered and deftly put together again; it
looks as well, but is not expected to t
? hold anything. Love is a word at \
whose mention first a thrill of joy, and j
later a spasm of agony, has been wont ]
to vibrate through her frame; now it j
onlvjnspires contemptuous uisDenei or T
smiling irony as an old tradition or j
superstition, on the truth of whicn
some uneducated persons insist. Pamela's
unfortunate love had for years
prevented her from receiving the advances
of even the most eligible aspirants;
now she looks back with the
deepest regret to lost opportunities,
and is firmly resolved to make up for
her criminal waste of time. And life,
as it is, is by no means agreeable to
her. Mrs. Sinclair, her aunt, is a kind
and amiable lady, but a handsome
young woman of three-and-twenty
wants a different kind of a companionship
and quite another sort of entourage
from that a middle-aged aunt
can give. Just now Pamela, feeling
the violent reaction of extreme dullness
after the fast and furious gayeties
of the season (which, by the way, she
had declared bored her to death, and
she longed to get away from), is
prepared to view Lord Melton, his
t wplvft thousand a vear. ;md his tilace
in shire with the greatest possible ,
favor. In a day or two! . j
Well, she must get through the in- ^
tervening time?the horrible table t
d'hote included?as she may. Pamela \
takes her pen and Indites a graceful ^
little note in answer to her friend. In .
a judicious place, neither too near the
beginning nor the end, she writes: .
"We shall be charmed to make the
acquaintance of your friend, Lord ,
k Melton. My aunt hopes that he will
W call upon us when he arrives. I fear ]
F he will find this place fearfully dull, :
but we will try to prevent his being
too much bored."
Then Mrs. Sinclair appears, and the
two ladies start for their drive. This
recreation does n<-t afford much solace
to Pamela. The fly-horse is jaded, the
roads are dusty, every scrap of vegetation
is nnvered with a gray pall, count
less char-a-bancs, full of" the most
objectionable people, meet and pa?s
them every hundred yards, covering
them with dust which penetrates into
their eyes, mouth and noses. Even
Mrs. Sinclair's good temper is tried.
On their return to the hotel there is
a crowd and bustle in the hall; the
London train has just brought a contingent
of guests. To Pamela the new
arrivals seem of the most objectionable
type. One little man, in a rather loud
suit of clothes, pushes up against her,
and, though he is profuse in his
apologies, Pamela is furious, and bestows
on him her very crushing look.
" The worst possible type of 'Arryl"
she says to her aunt, in scarcely modulated
accents, as they walk down the
corridor to their apartments.
Half an hour later the gong sounds,
and Mrs. Sinclair and her most reluctant
niece betake themselves to the
. dining-room. Miss Clifford has a very
imposing carriage; she walks down
the room in her stateliest manner,
neither looking to the right nor to the
left. As she seats herself, her attitude
and manner say, in the plainest possible
way: "Address me if you dare; I
y am a lady, you are all canille; do not
forget this, if you please, I am here by
no wish of my own, but I may divert
myself if I choose by watching your
- grotesque antics." The company do
not assemble all at once, but drop in
by groups; it is nearly ten minutes before
the head waiter gives the signal
for the banquet to commence. Pameli
glances coldly around her; her mind is
> so thoroughly prejudiced that she looks
1^
at every one anil everything present
from the blackest possible point of'
view. There is a vacant seat next her,
thank heaven !?may it remain so.'?
and beyond that, two girls and an
elderly man. They are rattling away
to each other in the best spirits in the
world. Xo doubt, thinks Pamela, this
is a fashionable and delightful gathering
to them. What is their social
status? Daughters of a shopkeeper,
probably?quite girls of the period, at
all events. Lower down the table is a
party of four ladies with a deaf gentleman,
at whom they all roar in turn
with a loudness and volubility disgusting
beyond measure to Miss Clifford.
Immediately opposite her is an old
Scotchman, who abuses everything, and
bullies the waiters in the brond03t
Scotch. Pamela has taken care during
the interval of waiting to place the
salt between herself and her aunt, that
no one may be able to intrude a remark
I fl.of innfTnntii VP
ujjuii Jitrr niiimgu iiKiu . v
medium. She lias eaten a few spoonfuls
of soup, when, to her horror, 'Arry,
as she has dubbed him, comes in, with
some little noise and bustle, and takes
the chair next her. She quietly edges
away from him, and gradually turns
herself so that her shoulder only is presented
to him.
"May I trouble you for the salt?"
he says, in a loud, cheerful voice.
Here is a contingency on which
Pamela had not reckoned.
She hands it to him in a manner
which might freeze the marrow in the
bones of a man endowed with susceptibility.
"Thanks," he says, quite unabashed.
" I'll put it between us here, so that I
shall not have to trouble you again."
Pamela edges still further away from
him, and is about to take refuge in
conversation with her aunt, but, to her
disgust, perceives that lady to be talking
affably, and even in an interested
manner, with her next neighbor.
'Arry eats his soup with apparent
relish, and having wiped his mouth and
pulled his mustache, gives a good,
exhaustive look at Pamela, of which
she is perfectly and indignantly conscious.
"Hotel seems pretty full," he ob
^ " V?ai? fitslot* j
StfrVtXf tU 1IC1 ouvuiu^ii
Pamela effects not to hear. The
impertinent little snob leans a trille
nearer to her and reiterates his remark.
Something must be done to stop this?
Miss Clifford replies glacially, "I am
pot aware," and bestows at the same
ctrhe a glance upon him which her Eton
:ouain is wont to describe as "a regular
Vere de Verer."
For a moment 'Arry appears to be
jrushed, but after a short pause Pamela
lears him inquire if she has been here
ong. There is only one thing to be
lone, and she does it. Deliberately
she interrupts her aunt in the fufl
swing of conversation, and compels
;hat lady to enter into a dialogue of the
jaldest "and most fictitious character
ivith herself. This time 'Arry takes
;he hint and devotes himself to one of
;he girls of the period on his right,
ivho, nothing loth, gives him every
>ncouragement; and the pair are soon
aughlng and talking with abandon
,vhich, though permissible in the circles
n which Miss Clifford moves, is un relee
med vulgarity here. She is filled
,vith a sense of indignation against
ler aunt for bringing her into contact
vith such people. Thankful indeed is
?he when the penance is over. When
'* ? I
ihey retire to tueir suting-room j.?na.
Sinclair indulges in a nap, and Pamela
iits on the balcony and looks out at the
lea, and listens to the strains of the
own band which is performing in
ront of the hotel. At this moment ,
he two "girls of the period" passed :
he window; 'Arry is walking between
hem, and they are all laughing and
alking boisterously. Really the maniers
of this class of persons are too .
evolting!
Next morning, after breakfast, as it
s a hot sunshiny morning, Mrs. .Sinclair
>roposes that they shall take their
>ooks and sit in the hotel garden,
'amela complies, and for a little while
hev are fortunate in having it to them- ,
elves. But presently in come the girls
>f the period and 'Arry, each with a
acquet. After some little conversation '
hev turn to Pamela and ask if she will J
nake a fourth. Miss Clifford declines
reezingly. So they play without her,
tnd seeni perfectly happy.
Mrs. Sinclair comes to the conclusion
hat there is very little amusement to '
)e got out of driving. She will have a ,
>ath chair. What will Pamela do?
Pamela will take her maid and stroll
nto the town. But finding that her ;
naid has a headache she, being as we
lave said, a considerate young lady,
:lects to leave her at home, ana pro:eeds
for her walk alone. There is no
>ne here who knows her, or whose
jpinion she values in the smallest
legree. "When she arrives at the seaihore
she regrets having come unattended.
There is a regular rabble by
he sands; a horrid jumble of dirty
ihildren, tawdry women, cads of the
owest order, donkeys and boys, barrows
">iled with shrimps and whelks. Were
t not that she wants to buy something
n the town she would turn back at
>nce. Her commission executed, she
etraces her steps. The crowd by the
lea was thioker than ever; she has some
lifliculty in threading :er way through
t. Suddenly a half-drunken lout
jushes up against her, to her intense
lisgust. ]Jut in a moment he is thrust
iwav, and a very good-looking and
jentlman-like young man is bending
>ver her and hoping she is not hurt or
Tightened. She is trembling a little
with anger and disgust, but recovers
inroolf in a mnmpnt. nnil t.hanks him
ior his intervention. May lie see her
safely through the crowd? It will be
most kind of him. We seldom know
:he value of a thing until we miss it,
ind Pamela feels it is delightful to be
in the society of one of her own order
igain.
lie walks with her almost to the
iloor of the hotel, and Pamela feels a
growing impression that the man beside
tier is none other than Melton himself.
His air, his dress?everything bespeaks
breeding and culture. On the cliff
they pass 'Arry and the two girls of
the period. It seems to Pamela as
though they are whispering and laughing
about her and her companion, and
she passes them with her head well in
the air.
She finds Mrs. Sinclair in their sitting-room,
and with a heightened
color and unusual animation of manner
proceeds to recount her little adventure.
" I have a positive convictii>n
that it was Lord Melton," she says,
radiantly. "If so, he will soon find
out who we are, and will come and
call?perhaps at once."
On the chance Miss Clifford remains
in for the rest of the afternoon, hut no
visitor appears. The two ladies have
a lukewarm and indifferent dinner in
their own apartment, Pamela having I
utterly refused to appear again at the |
table d'hote. She cannot stand any !
more of 'Arry and those dreadful girls.!
They spend rather a dull evening.1
Mrs. Sinclair, who likes a good dinner
and has not had it, is somewhat peevish.
The following morning Pamela
receives budgets of letters, and stays
in to answer some of them." About
noon she goes to look for li<-r aunt m
the hotel garden. To her horror she
finds her seated between the two girls
of the period, in the most animated
conversation. She would fain retire,
but her aunt makes a beckoning
gesture. Pamela stiffens her back and
comes haughtily forward.
'My dear Pamela," exclaims Mrs.
Sinclair, " I have made the most delightful
discovery. Let me introduce
Miss and Miss Augusta . Their
dear mother, Lady Cecilia, and I were
at school together, and bosom friends.
I have been telling them how very
dull and bored you were."
Pamela feels a severe shock. She
cannot prevent the color coming to
' her cheeks at the remembrance ol
her verdict on these girls, who are looking
at her in the most smiling and
good-natured way, though there is an
arch twinkle in their eyes. Hut she
assumes her pleasantest manner, and
soon they are all chatting away on the
friendliest terms, and finding that they
have a hundred mutual friends; after
a time the girls become quite confidential.
" It's rather a bore there are no men
here, isn't it?" says the younger. I
"Now that dear, jolly little Melton is
gone 1 don't know what we shall do."
Pamela feels as if iced water had
poured down her back.
"Melton!" she stammers.
"Yes. You know ho sat next to |
you at dinner the night before last, and
you snubbed hi:u so beautifully. lie
was dreadfully cut up, because he
came here on purpose to make your
acquaintance, and, as he said, you
wouldn't have him at any price."
Pamela never felt so small in the
whole course of her life.
" Hut he told us," proceeds the young
Jiliiv, laugiung gayiy, i u n v <iuunmn.u |
your acquaintance, if it was only to I
toll you, for heaven's sake, not to he
seen walking with that man you were
walking with yesterday. He was
kicked out of Nice for card-sharping,
and was formerly valet to one of
Melton's friends."
A mist come before Pamela's eyes;
she is reduced to miserable, abject,
humiliated silence. Being, however, a
woman of the world trained to conceal
her emotion, she soon regains her outward
composure, and talks gayly as if
she had not received one of the severest
blows she ever had in her life. Later
on she has leisure to reflect that foregone
conclusions are Hither a mistake.
?London World.
Remarkable Delusions.
Recent circumstances have directed
attention to certain remarkable delusions
to which females of unstable
nervous equilibrium are subject, either
through hysteria or through similar
disorders of the nervous system.
Charcot and Bourneville give instances
of the extraordinary self-deceptions
that :ire frequent among hysterical patients.
Dr. Legrand du Saulle, physician
to the Salpetriere, Paris, describes
in his standard work, "Lea
tt rom'irlrohlo phqij? i
ouiuu iuuiuin?v*w
of hallucination, where females labor
under the belief that they have been
struck or stabbed by others, even after
having indicted blows and wounds
upon themselves. In one instance a
young woman was found by her husband
lying on the lloor of her room
in a fainting fit, her face covered with
blood. On reviving from her swoon
she stated that she had been attacked
by armed men; the Paris newspapers
related the case, and within three weeks
two similar events occurred in the
French metropolis. All these cases
proved to be fabricated by the supposed
victims. A young girl wounded
herself slightly with a pistol. She gave
the police authorities the most minute
details about an imaginary assassin,
who, according to her account, lired
the weapon, but she was found to be
highly hysterical, and it was proved
that-, chp liiui willfully wounded herself. |
In athifd case in Dr. J)u Saulle's experience,
a young woman was found in a
railway carriage, stabbed in the
l'-ft side. ' The incident caused
great excitement, but it was
proved, contrary to her assertions,
that she had inflicted the
wound herself and was a hysterical
subject. A housemaid was found
lying behind a door, bound, gagged and
covered with bruises. She stated that
she had been brutally attacked by two
burglars with blackened face, but she
was a highly hysterical woman, and
there appears to have been strong
evidence that she had contrived to tie
her own hands and gag and bruiss herself.
Perhaps the strangest case of
all occurred in M. Tardieu's practice.
A young lady living at Courbevoie
wished to make herself an object of
public interest by passing as a victim
uf a political conspiracy which she
pretended to have discovered. One
night she was found in a state of the
greatest mental perturbation at the
door of her apartment. She could not
talk, but stated in writing that she had
been attacked outside her own house
!>v a man who had attempted to |
garrjte her, at the same time striking I
twice with a dagger. Only the lady's
clothing was injured, and the botly of
her dress and her corset were found to
be cut through, but at different levels.
She tried to make out that the attempt
at strangulation had ca^feed dumbness.
M. Tardieu remarked, in her hearing,
that this infirmity rapidly disappeared
when produced under circumstances of
this kind. She soon managed to regain
her speech; and, in a short time, admitted
that the whole narrative had
been developed out of her inner consciousness.
Eccentricity in relatives
is ever strongly presumptive of selfdeception,
when a female makes any
statement or charges of ill-treatment
of any kind. The constant fear of
assassination, especially if based on
reasonable grounds, is particularly
liable to predispose nervous or excitable
subjects to extraordinary delusions
of this kind.?British Mtdiml Journal.
Tlie Soldier's Last Kiss.
"What volumes might be written of
the pathetic incidents of the war. As
the Federal troops were on their way
to Gettysburg they were marching by
night through a village over whose
gateways hung lighted lanterns, while
young girls shed tears as they watched
the brothers of other women march
on to possible death. A scene of the
march is thus described by the author
of " Jiullet and Shell:"
Stopping for a moment at the gate
of a dwelling, I noticed a young
mother leaning over it with a chubby
child in her arms. Above the woman's
head swung a couple of stable-lanterns,
their light falling upon her face. The
child was crowinir with delight at the
strange pageant, as it watched the
armed host puss on. " I beg your
pardon, ma'am," said Jim Manners, one
of my men, as he dropped the butt of
his musket on the ground and peered
wistfully into the faces of the mother
and her child. " I beg pardon, but may
I kiss that baby of yours? I've got
one just like him at home, at least he
was when I last saw him, two years
ago." The mother, a sympathetic tear
rolling down her blooming cheek, silently
held out the child. Jim pressed
his unshaven face to its innocent,
smiling lips for a moment, and then
walked on, saying: " God bless you,
ma'am, for that!" Poor Jim Manners !
lie never saw his boy again in life. A
bullet laid him low the next day, as we
made our first charge.
Tides in an Inland Lake.
One of (he most singular of all the
strange freaks of nature that Colorado
j is found as possessing is to be seen
I within a short distance of the city. It
| is no more or less than the rise and
fall of tides on Sloan's lake, a very
' beautiful sheet of water, lying about
! two miles to the northwest of the
\ city. The best place to observe this
! strange phenomenon is at the boat
houses on the south side of the lake,
where a small cove sets out from the
main body of water. Of course it is
not like the J5ay of Funriy, where the
sea rises over seventy feet, but the fact
still remains that there is a tide, 01
something that approximates closelj
to it, and the'question naturally arises,
what causes it. and offers a rather
j hard nut for the scientific men of Den!
ver to crack.?J fencer Tribune.
! " What fools the girls are to marry!"
said a single lady of mature year.--.
I " Very true," replied her married
; friend, " but that is the only way you
I can bring them to their senses."?Boston
Transcript.
SCENES OF ABJECT WANT.
WHAT AH AMERICAN COBBESFOHDEHT
SAW ZH ZBBLAHD.
Mnny People on tho Verne of StarvationStorh'H
of Wretchedness that !>iccfrt Incredlblc?ICntinR
Seaweed.
A correspondent specially deputed
by the Boston Herald to make a per|
sonal examination of the condition of
j affairs in Ireland, particularly with regard
to the famine, has sent in his report,
which fills fourteen columns of
j that paper. He reports that a condi;
tion of abject want and squalor prevails
in many parts of the country. From
his account we quote the following:
Some idea of the wretchedness of
the people of Uallyvaughan, as a
ireneral rule, mav be gathered from
one or two cases which I was obliged
to take notice of. The parish priest
took me to the hovel of a woman who
lost her husband several years ago and
has been obliged for a long time to
support herself, as a last resort, by a
method as revolting as it is unremunerative.
She employs herself by digging
worms to supply the fishermen of the
place with bait. The work is exceedingly
difficult, for the reason that
these nasty, squirming occupants of the
soil are not at all plentiful hereabouts,
and even when by dint of hard and
sustained labor she has succeeded in
gathering enough to fill a tin can like
one of those in which tomatoes are
sold in American groceries, she receives
sixpence or a little over for the
lot. It is considered by her an exceedingly
fortunate day when she has been
enabled to fill one can with worms.
The poor woman lives in a wretched
little stye of a place in the very outskirts
of the village, and considers
herself far less hardly used than many
aP a rw\f for txrrrvnct
VJL UC1 uuguuuiO, UUV( iJ uuuidi !nvu^,
in at least one case?that of a poor
herdsman whom I met in the road
from New Quay up here, and who was
pointed out to me by the driver as a
recipient of only $25 a year for his
hard work?work, that is to say, which
is hard to him, inasmuch as he is lame
and ill and unable to stand any great
amount of exposure or exertion. This
poor fellow has a family consisting of ,
a wife and five children to support, .
and, as they must live on less than
fifty-cents a week, you will gather at
once the extreme squalor of their :
situation. The mother of his children ,
is totally blind, and can, therefore, do
little or nothing to help eke out the j
means of their subsistence. They receive,
here and there, some charity, but ]
It is only a little, and their existence, J
from year's end to year's end, is not ,
illumined by one ray of the light of :
real comfort. -They go along in a state
of semi-starvation all the time, and it (
is not an unfrequent matter when this (
semi-condition approaches the stern ]
reality. The case to which I have thus ]
alluded is by no means the only one of
want in the vicinity, and neither is it
the severest. Many of the poor cottiers
and laborers on this portion of the
coast suffer quite as intensely as the
herdsman to whom I have alluded, and
are obliged to get along as best they
may upon as small an income as that ,
which he receives. It seems to me ,
that the further I go into this country |
the worse becomes the condition of the j
people, and the more wretched their ,
homes. In some which I have visited J
in this locality there has been no pre- J
tense at furniture beyond a bit of a j
table and a stone settee upon which j j
the different members of the family j
huddle close to tne place wnere tue nre }
ought to be, but where, alas, it is not :
in many instances. Beds are frequently *
made by throwing a heap of straw ,
down upon as flat a rock pavement as j
it is possible to make, and covering the (
whole with some coarse matting or
material such as that which we use ^
here in making gunny sacks. Many ,
of the habitations are more than dis- '
tressing?they are simply heartrend- ,
ing. In the north of Ireland, the J
family are considered affluent who ,
own two pigs. Here they are wealthy (
indeed if they own one. Ponies and j
donkeys are exceedingly rare, and the
people" bear their burdens either upon '
their heads in creels, or hanging from
either shoulder by a rough sort of yoke.
Seaweed is eaten toavery large extent
in the black winter months when the 3
potatoes have altogether given out, ]
and even such a rude and unsatisfae- <
+,r.T.t. -rnnz-i nu rnriiMTi is recorded
WIJ __
here us a high and wonderful luxury. ,
It is difficult to surmise what would
be the effect of giving one of these ]
families a meal of solid meat and \
vegetables, such as would be con
sidered even a mean repast by the
poorest farmers in New England. We .
have no such thing in America. One
must travel through the poor districts :
of almost any foreign land to learn j
what poverty really is. And to find it ,
in its most exalted state he must j
end by coming to Ireland. The longer
my journey lasts over nere, me greater (
is the number of the elements of suf- ]
fering which come under my view. <
In the north it was simply hunger; !
down on the coast of Clare, just above j
here, cold was added to the list of (
complications, with no means of stav
ing it off; here, not only starvation
and chill go hand in hand, but added to J
them is thirst. It is a sort of rocky
desert, which, in America, no man j
would be found foolish enough to settle
upon. In the center of the little !
village of Ballyvaughan, somebody?a
lord, I believe?has erected a stone j
fountain inscribed with the line from .
Byron: j
" In the desert a fountain is springing."
It is the only place in the village, I be 1
lieve, which can be relied upon year in 1
and year out for water to quench the '
thirst of the inhabitants. The enor- J
mous sum of $40 a week is distributed 1
in this parish by way of outdoor relief.
In the poorhouses there are 185 occu- 1
'pants. They are, most of them, actual
paupers, driven by debility to that hist 1
stage of degradation which the Irish- 1
man can come to. n you were 10 ;isk
me how this condition of poverty 1
might lind permanent relief in this
portion of the country, I should reply :
in the blunt hut honest terms of the :
parish priest?I don't know. I should
add, as he does, that I could see no
earthly way out of the dillicul?
ties surrounding the people. There
is certainly nothing in the way
of public works that can be devised
for the employment of the inhabitants,
for the simple reason that
there is no kind of public work which
would be of the slightest use here
when completed. The fishing is of
the most uncertain description, and so
far as farming is concerned, you might
as well plant a potato-patch on the
front steps of the Massachusetts .State
house as to do it here. Where any
ground whatever is cultivated it is in
a patch never larger than half an aero,
and usually smaller than a quarter of
an acre. What, then, is the use of
trying to carry out agricultural designs?
As to the general outlook in
other directions, I can tell you of the
experience of one man, who is a very
fair specimen of the lot. He is the
father of a family of seven children,
and he told me that, although he had
worked constantly, almost daily, in his
boat, he had not caught since the middle
of December enough fish to support
his family a week. The shopkeepers
had, of course, long ago shut oft his
credit, from the sheer helplessness of
ever being paid. Many times in January
and the early part of February, he
declared he had been in actual want of
food, and together with his wife and
children had gone many a night to bed
with nothing to eat since early morning.
On several occasions his fast had
not been broken in thirty-six hours.
Many similar instances abound, and it
would only be a repetition of the o!d,
old story of distress and actual hunger
for me to tell you, one by one, the tales
that have been told to me this day in
in;/Post. In the teeming ilsli-life of
these tepid waters they lind abundant
food, all the more easily captured because
of the transparency of the sea.
It follows that there is an enormous
development of shark-life, both as to
number and species, as compared with
more temperate ocean climes. In his
relations with the fishermen the shark
is a vile marplot. You may be gleefully
hauling in fish after fish, and
congratulating yourself on an hour or
two of sport. Suddenly, just as you
have started a four-pounder upward,
you see a gleaming white flash. Pull
rapidly as you will, but you will pull
in vain. Thirty feet more of line, it
may be, are drawn in. when the hook
seems to strike a rock. Perhaps the
cheCk is but momentary; then, on
drawing in, you find only the head of
a handsome fish whose body has gone
into Mr. Shark's maw. But more likely
you have put too muah strain upon the
iine, and in that case the shark, fearing
the escape of the prey, has bolted
hook, fish and sinker, so that only
the severed line comes back. The
negro fishermen, with the aid of their
water-glasses, have been able to make
a thorough study or tne names or mese
pirates of the deep, and give the shark
a high character for cunning. As
these negroes aver, a shark will sometimes
follow a boat for a mile until it
comes to anchor. Then, lying in the
shadow of some subaqueous rock, so as
not to frighten the lish from biting,
the shrewd fellow will dart out the
instant a hooked victim begins the
ascefit. With a hungry shark around,
not more than one out of three hooked
fish ever reaches the rail; and there is
proportionate and vexatious loss of
hooks and sinkers. After his novel
fishing is ended, the shark rids himself
of these impediments by rubbing his
nose and lips against projecting rocks.
Sharks of the moderate size of ten
or twelve feet may sometimes be
caught with a rope and huge hook
liung to a chain. But even then they
have a clever way of following up the
line, turning on the back, and by a
ude snap of the teeth cutting the cord
\s cleanly as with ,1 knife. The
larger and fiercer species or tropical
shark, from twenty-five to thirty feet
long, have never been caught here by
line, and the negroes tell wondrous
tales as to the chain hooks and huge
lords broken in tackling the big fellows.
"We have had lately here an
illustration of their voracity. A negro
jailor had caught one day an ordinary
shark ten feet in length and weighing
iorne 250 pounds. He left the creature
over night on a line attached to
!iis boat. The next morning only the
lead was found. It Had been severed
from the body by a single clean cut
just behind the gills. As a rule, when
3nce the sharks get actively at work
iround the lines the legitimate sport
?nds for that anchorage in fifteen or
twenty minute?, a3 the fish fly to the
rocks for protection. 1 Jut sometimes
the fishermen, tying together a bottle
md piece of iron, drop it down on a
;ord attached to the boat. The rise
1 r..n ~c fVin wavoa Lmnr>
111(1 litil UI UI1U LKVll \jii uuv km* ww ikvw^/
up a constant tinkling below, and, as
water is a good sound conductor, the
iharks flee in terror. A ray of sunlight
cast downward through the water
glass often has a similar effect.
Nations of the World.
The following is a full list of the
nations of the world, each of which
tias its own distinctive national colors
srllag: The United States of America,
Mexico, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala,
San Salvador, Costa liica, the
L'nited States of Colombia, Eucador,
Peru, Bolivia, Chili, Argentine Confederation,
Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil,
Venezuela, Ilayti and San Domingo,
L -1" ~11 * ?"? in.lnnan/lont nQfiilTl
WHICH iirtJ till tllC lliuojjwmviiw ih?i?vmiilities
of North and South America
ind the "West India Islands; Great
Britain and her dependencies in both
hemispheres, France and her dependences
in Asia, Africa and Oceanica;
the German empire, Austro-IIungary,
Russia, Italy, Spain and her dependencies
in botli hemispher Portugal and
tier dependencies in Asia and Africa;
Switzerland, Belgium, Netherlands
ind her dependencies in both
hemispheres; Denmark and her
colonial possessions; Sweden and
Norway, Greece, Roumania, Servia,
Montenegro, Turkey or the Ottoman
empire, Andorra, " San Marino and
Monaco; the only independent states
of Africa (except those wholly savage)
?Liberia, Orange River Free State,
Transvaal Republic, Morocco and
Abyssinia; the only independent nationalities
of all Asia?Persia, Burmah,
Afghanistan, Beloochistan, Siam,
China and Japan; linally the Sandwich
Islands. This makes a total of fifty
seven nations universally recognueu i
and diplomatically treated as such, although
several of them, like Afghanistan
and liurmah. are little more than
nominally independent, and two of
them?Monaco, with an area of five
and three-quarter square miles, or less
than a congressional township in this
country, and a population of less than
5,000, and San Marino, with an area
of barely twenty-three and eight-tenths
square miles and less than 8,000 inhabitants?are
s j insignificant in comparison
with their great neighbors that it
seems a mockery of the name to call
them nations in the sense in which the
term is used in international law.
Rcing Too (Jood.
A retail dealer on Michigan avenue
secured a new customer a few days
ago in the person of .a well-dressed
lady, who ordered and paid for a large
bill of groceries. The grocer was
desirous of keeping her trade, and,
therefore, when she came again and
paid him half a dollar with a hole in
it, among other change, he received it
and said nothing. Next day lie was
obliged to take another, ana during the
next week she handed out a dozen
wliii'h hnrl fh?? rl ronrloil linlrw
lotting daylight through them. Finally,
a little girl came in one day and inquired:
" Is this the place where ma trades?''
" Who is your ma?"
? Mrs. !"
" Yes, this is the place."
"Well, then, I want a pound of
crackers."
They were done up for her, and she
handed over a quarter which was
battered as well as punched.
"Can't take it, sissy," said* the
grocer.
" Why not V"
" Because there is a hole in it."
"Don't you take 'em any moreV"
? No."
" Well, this was the last one ma had,
and she was going back to our old
grocer as soon as we got rid of it! I
guess she'll have to give this to the
orphans !"?Detroit Free Press.
A new English book is called "People
I Have Met." A new American book
might be called "Men I Have iieen
Out to Sue."
m A - -
the suffering districts of Ballyvaughan.
I have been through half a dozen
little settlements around Bally vaughan.
It is only the same story, with slight
individual variations. The country is
all of it exceedingly mountainous and
rocky and sterile, and I must confess
that it seems to me that, if I had the
whole resources of the British government
at my back, I should not know
what to do with the inhabitants of this
very wretched portion of the British
domain, except by lifting them up
bodily from their miserable surroundings
and setting them down somewhere
else.
Sharks.
A volume could be written about
the habits and traits of the tropical
sharks, says a Nassau (West Indies)
correspondent of the New York Even
THE BAD BOY LS DECEIVED,
HB CALLS TTPOW THE GROCERY MAW
IS A HUBB7.
And Tolls About a T.litln Event that Ifn
Tuken Place at Hit* Ilousr?Ills Opinion
of Babies.
"Give.me ten cents worth of saffron,
quick," said the bad boy to the grocery
man, as lie came in the grocery on a
gallop, early one morning, with no
collar on and no vest, lie looked as
though he had been routed out of bed
in a hurry, and had jumped into his
pants and boots and put on his coat
and hat on the run.
"I don't keep saffron," said the
grocery man, as lie picked up a barrel
of ax-handles the boy had tipped
over in his hurry. "You want to go
over to the drug store on the corner, if
you want saffron. JJut what on earth
is the mat?"
At this point the boy shot out of the
door, tipping over a basket of white
beans, and disappeared in the drug
store. The grocery man got down on
his knees on the sidewalk and scooped
up the beans, occasionally looking over
to the drug store, and just as he got
them picked up the boy came out of
the drug store and walked deliberately
toward his home, as though tiiere was
no particular hurry. The grocery man
looked after him, took up an ax-handle,
spit on his hands and shouted to the
boy to ci.me over pretty soon, as he
wanted to talk with him. The boy did
not come to the grocery till toward
night, but the grocery man had seen
him running downtown a dozen times
during the day, and once he rode up
to the house with the doctor, and the
grocer surmised what was the trouble.
Along toward night the boy came in in
a dejected sort of a tired way, sat down
on a barrel of sugar, and never spoke.
" What is it, a boy or girl," said the
grocery man, winking at an old lady
with a shawl over her head who was
trying to hold a paper over a pitcher
of yeast with her thumb.
"How the deuce did you know
anything about it," said the boy, as he
looked around in astonishment, and
with some indignation. " "Well, it's a
girl, if you must know, and that's
enough," and he looked down at the
cat playing on the floor with a potato,
his face a picture of dejection.
" Oh, don't feel bad about it," said
the grocery man, as he opened the door
for the old lady. " Such things are
bound to occur. Buty ^u take my word
for it, that young one is going to have
a hard life, unless you mend your ways.
Mi i- ~ ii. ? AAI.1r o
I ou win ue using iu iui <* w ..,
jug, or to WikI a gun witli, the first
thing your ma knows."
" I wouldn't touch the blame thing
with tong.s," said the boy, as he rallied
enough to eat some crackers and
cheese. "Gosh, this cheese tastes
good. I hain't had nothing to eat
since morning. I have been all over
this town trolling for nurses They
think a boy hasn't got any feelings.
But I wouldn't care if ma hadn't been
sending me for neuralgia medicine
and hay fever snuff all winter, when
she wanted to get rid of me. I have
come in the room lots of times when
ma and the sewing girl were at work
on some flannel things, and ma would
hide them in a basket and send me off
after medicine. I was deceived up |
to about 4 o'clock this morning,'
when pa come to my room and
pulled me out of bed to go over on
the west side after some old women
that knew ma, and they have kept me
whooping ever since. What does a
boy want of a sister, unless it is a big
sister. I don't want no sister that I
havft ant to hold, and rock, and hulda
bottle for. This affair breaks me all
up," and the boy picked the cheese out
of his teetli with a sliver he cut off
the counter.
""Well, how does your pa take it,"
said the grocery man, as he charged
the boy's pa with cheese? and saffron,
and a number of such things.
"Oh, pa will pull through. He
wanted to boss the whole concern
until ma's chum, an old woman that
takes snuff, fired him out in the
hall. Pa sat there on my hand-sled
a perfect picture of despair, and I
thought it would be a kindness
to play it on him. I found the
cat asleep in the bath-room, and I
rolled the cat up in a shawl, and
brought it out to pa and told him the
nurse wanted him to hold the baby.
It seemed to do pa good to feel that he
was indispensable around the house,
and he took the cat on his lap as tenderly
as you ever saw a mother hold
an infant. "Well, I got in the back
hall, where ne couiun i me, ?uu
pretty soon the cat began to wake up
and stretch himself, and pa said,
's-h-h-tootsy, go to sleep now, and let
its pa hold It,' and pa he rocked back
and forth on the hand sled and began
to sing 'by low, baby.' That settled it
with the cat. Well, some cats can't
stand music, anyway, and the more
the cat wanted to get out of the shawl,
the louder pa sung, and bimeby I
heard something rip, and pa yelled,
'scat you brute,' and when I
looked around the corner of tne
hall the cat was bracing hisself
against pa's vest with his
toe-nails, and yowing, and pa fell over
the sled and began to talk about the
hereafter like the minister does when
he gets excited in church, and then pa
picked up the sled and seemed to be
looking for me or the cat, but both of
? i^z-vn'f von t.hinlr
118 WHiJ onui auitiv^c. i^ull u
there are times when boys and cats are
kind of tew around their accustomed
haunts? Pa don't look as though he
was very smart, but he can hold a cat
about as well as the next man. But
I am sorry for ma. She was just
getting ready to go Florida for her
neuralgia, and this will put a stop to
it, cause she has to stay and take care
of that young one. Pa says I will
have a nice time this summer pushing
the baby wagon. By the great horn
spoons, there has got to be a dividing
line somewhere, between busi
ness and pleasure, and I strike
the line at wheeling a baby.
I had rather catch a string
of perch than t<> wheel all the babies
ever was. They needn't procure no
babv on my account, if it is to amuse
mo. 1 don't see why babies can't lie
sawed off onto people that need them
in their business. Our folks don't
need a baby any more than you need a
safe, and there are people just suffering
for babies. Say, how would it be
to take the baby some night and leave
it on some old bachelor's door step.
If it had been a bicycle or a breechloading
shotgun, I wouldn't have
cared, but a baby! Iiah ! It make-*
me tireu. in urumui u??w o. jmjac
package. Well, I am sorry pa allowed
me to conic homo after he drove me
away last week. I guess all he wanted
me to come back for was to humiliate
rue and send me on errands. Well, I
must go and see if he and the cat have
made up."
And the boy went out and put up a
paper sign in front of the store,
" Leave your measure for saffron tea."
-Peek's Sun.
Pelcr Cooper.
lie was of tin; people and for the
people. IIo was born in their ranks
and he never left their ranks. Prosperity
did not produce sluggishness in
his blood. Wealth did not taint his
goodness. The toiler was as his
brother. Pride he never knew. Mere
I outward appearance he despised,
j Dissimulation he abhorred. Anil
he went through his long life as gentle
a.'* a sweet woman, as kind as a good
mother, and as guileless a man as
could live and remain human.?New
York Truth.
A Florida alligator culturist has
1,000 little reptiles in stock to |lill
orders from the jtforth.
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL. *'
New Jersey lias a law requiring t
seedsmen to give written guarantees
to purchasers that seeds sold them are
sound, and making them liable for x
damages in case the seeds fail to grow
on account of their bad quality.
An Arctic expedition this summer
has been decided upon in Sweden. It J
has been promoted by the well-known f
Swedish Miecenas, Dr. Oscar Dickson, ]
and will be in command of Baron '
Nordenskjold, whose intention it is i
on this occasion to explore the east 1
and northeast coast of Greenland. i
A French scientist pays that buck- 5
wheat cakes are equal to pure white 1
bread as regards the phosphates or 1
bone-making material and nitrogenous *
principles which they contain, and are j
superior to bread in fatty matters. '
The general yield of buckwheat when J
cooked is about three times the weight !
of Hour used, showing that such flour
will retain from forty to forty-one per j
cent, of water.
M. Timiriazeff informs the French (
Academy that he has found the '
o'.ivou nf tn lip of
1'" ? ?r ? t
ransforming into chemical work as
much as forty per cent, of the energy ]
absorbed by them from the sun's rays. j
This chemical work is the locking up ;
in plant tissue of a great quantity of
solar energy, which remains ready to ^
serve whomever shall liberate it, the !
leaf being the wonderful storage
battery of nature which bottles the '
sunbeams so securely that we are able ]
to apply them at pleasure to heating '
our furnaces, driving our engines and ]
sustaining our bodies. '
A new papier-mache process for (
covering floors is described as follows : (
The floor is thoroughly cleaned. The j
holes and cracks are then filled with ,
paper putty, made by soaking news- ,
papers in a paste made as follows : To }
one pound of flour add three quarts of ?
water and a tablespoonful of ground j
alum, and mix thoroughly. The floor .
is coated with this paste, and then a j
thickness of manila or hardware paper j
is put on. This is allowed to dry thor- (
oughly. The manila paper is then |
covered with paste, and a layer of wall- ^
paper of any style or design desired j
is put on. After allowing this to .
dry thoroughly, it is covered with two
or more coats of sizing made by dis- j
solving half a pound of white glue in .
*- - ? i-. t A fliia 1'a
two quarts ui nut inuw via**?**? ^
allowed to dry, the surface is given one ,
coat of "hardoil-finish varnish," which (
can he bought already prepared. This
is allowed to dry thoroughly, when the j
floor is ready for use. The process is ^
represented to be durable and cheap ; ,
and, beside taking the place of mat- "
ting, carpet, oil-cloths or like covering, j
makes the floor air-tight, and permits j
its being washed.
5
A Petrified Indian.
The recent death of Dr. Barnes, at *
one time surgeon-general of the United 1
States army, recalls an incident which took
place a good many years ago, and 1
attracted much attention at the time. 1
Shortly after he was appointed assist- 1
ant surgeon in the army he was sent 1
out with several other members of the 1
medical corps to Kansas, at that time ]
a howling wilderness. One day a 1
young lieutenant in the camp received ?
a letter from a friend in the East say- '*
ing that a brace of Englishmen had
started for the far West on a nunting ?
expedition, and might be expected at ?
the fort by a certain time. The lieu- 1
tenant read the letter at the mess 1
table, and immediately a discussion 1
began as to what diversions should be 1
gotten up for the visitors' entertain- J
ment. Some one suggested that as ]
Kansas was ail unknown country, a 1
hoax of some kind would be eminently 1
proper, and everything was kept pretty ?
quiet until the day before the visitors
were expected, when the camp rang |
with the news of a curious phenome
non. Two of the oflicers, it was said, 1
becoming attracted by the representa- 1
tions of a friendly Indian, had fol- <
lowed him to an out of the way place, 1
about ten miles from the fort, to shoot 1
buffalo. Here was located, to all ap- (
pearances, an ordinary spring. The Indian
was some distance in advance, {
and, going to the spring,
dinned a cup full of water. (
He had only taken one *
draught when lie uttered a shriek. 1
The officers rushed to his assistance, *
but when they arrived at his side he '
was in a state of complete petrifica- *
tion. When the Englishmen arrived *
at the fort next day they were told J
this story. They expressed some in- J
credulity at first, till the officers of- *
fered to guide them to the spot. The J
following day the expedition was accordingly
made. A petrified figure, I
chul in a picturesque savage's costume, 1
was found by the side of the spring, 1
and everything t-nded to corroborate *
the story. One of the Englishmen (
appeared to have some doubts a? to \
whether such a phenomenon was within
the bounds of possibility; but the *
two surgeons who were present bom- i
barded him wtyh such a volley of 1
scientific hypotheses, duly backed by
' 1V..4 1
javvbreaking physiological terms, mm,
he surrendered at discretion. The upshot
of the matter was that the visitors
considered the figure as a great
discovery. They begged it, and had it
boxed carefully and transported at
enormous expense to Hew York, together
with several demijohns of the
fatal water, intending to ship the
whole to England. In the meantime
the English and American papers were
full of the matter, and the greatest
interest was manifested to have the
petrification examined by experts. On
arriving in New York the object was investigated,
and the slightest exam- -i
ination proved that the material was j
sand-stone, and the water ordinary (
spring water. Barnes always denied ,
that he was concerned in any way in
the hoax, but his friends say now tnat ,
he was too modest to claim the credit (
for it.?Chicago News. 1
Peter Cooper's Views. <
The following letter was written by '
Peter Cooper to Mr. E. F. Gladwin, of <
Brooklyn, not long before the aged <
philanthropist's death : 1
" Mankind will improve and better 1
their condition just in proportion as 1
they come to see, know and understand '
that what a man, a community, a
State or nation soweth, that must they
also reap somewhere, somehow and at (
some time, and that by the operation
of a reign of beneficent laws, designed
in infinite wisdom for the use and the
elevation of mankind. Man without
knowledge is a soulless body ; without
science lie is a straying wanderer.
.Science is knowledge demonstrated by
the actual experience of mankind.
Hewitt Clinton, in a moment of in
spiration, uttered this sentiment:!
1 Pleasure is a shadow, wealth is vanity,
power is pageant; but knowledge is
ecstatic enjoyment, perennial, unlimited
in space and infinite in duration.'
"
So Innocent.
It was a widow who tripped into, a
broker's office the other day with
$5,030 in a reticule, and said :
"Mr. Brown, I'm going to be married
this spring."
"Is that possible? Allow me to
congratulate the lucky man."
" Certainly?thanks. Here is $'>,000
in cash, I want to bo worth at least
$l.r>,000 by April 1. Won't you please
take this and invest it in some stocks
which will raise -'500 per cent? Do,
that's a good man, and you may take
out $25 for your trouble.? Wall Street
Nttcs.
The proposed park in Montana will
have an area of 12,000 square miles,
nearly ten times that of the whole of j
llhode Island. '
fflE PROSPECTS OF TACOMA.
1A2T rSASCISCO'S StJPBBMACT BT<
9AVOESBD.
1 Plnce Which In Likely' to Become the
( reatent City on the PrcIUc Const?Its
Ponltlon and Industries*
A correspondent at Taeoraa, on
Paget Sound, Washington Territory,
>ays: The near approach of the completion
of the Northern Pacific railroad
has given a new impetus to business
in this new city, which is the
western terminus of the road. As long
igo as September, 1873, Tacoma was
selected by the directors of the road as
:he terminus on the Pacific by formal
resolution, which was confirmed by the
iiling of maps in the interior department
at Washington, on which the
land grants to the road are based. The
selection was made only after the
most careful surveys of 100 miles on
Paget sound, and Tacoma was agreed
upon chiefly because of its excellent
harbor, which is one of the finest in
the world. A natural barrier protects
ships from the winds of the sea, and
the Great Eastern could lie alongside
the piers of the Northern Pacific Railroad
company, and there would be
several fathoms of water under her
keel. This great advantage in safe
water communication over other
points was sufficient to have
made Tacoma a leading port, but
there are other reasons why the Northern
Pacific company did wisely in'
making it the western terminus. It is
it the end of the Puyallup valley, a
rich agricultural region which, sparsely
settled as it is, does a large business
with the outside world. Sixty farmers
raised hops last year on an average
}f ten acres each, and they sent to
market over 1,000,000 pounds, which
letted them $400,000. The great
wheat valleys of the Stuck and "White
rivers are closely connected with
racoma, and are destined to support a
arge agricultural population, whose
products will be loaded direct on ships
from the elevators here. The whole
region of country north, south and
east is heavily timbered, and already
;he whir of the circular saw is heard in
;he virgin forest, and the products of
Ua vviillfl n*?noln'r>nA/l f A n/M?f u in ?rQi*lniia
/lie 1Ulijo aicoiii|jpcu tu puiioiu raitvug
larts of the world.
Within ten miles of the city, and
:rora that to thirty miles distant, is the
nost extensive field of bituminous coal
west of the Rocky mountains. A
lumber of mines have already been
)pened, and coal-bunkers of great
capacity Dave been built by the railroad
company. As an illustration of
ihe amount of this business, it may be
laid that the Central Pacific Railroad
company, which owns much coal land,
las made arrangements to ship two
lundred tons per d?y fron^Tacoma by
i fleet of new collier steamers to San
Francisco.
Everything now points to the fact
;hat within ten years Tacoma will be
;he San Francisco of the Northern
Pacific coast, tbe great exporting depot
Hid manufacturing center of the vast
egion north of California. Her commerce
and manufactures will find their
svay to market by the sea, but the city
(vill be closely identified with the rail-oad
development in Oregon and Washngton,
and the great farming region
stretched away to the north, which is
is yet almost uninhabited.
Her unequaled position and relations,
ind the two lines of railroad, from the
jouth and the east, will mane xacoma
;he local metropolis of an area of terri;ory
larger tlian that which includes
Chicago, Buffalo, New York, Philadelphia,
Baltimore, Louisville and St.
Louis, and back to Chicago. Nationally
t will be the entrepot and outport for
;he trade with Japan and China, to
which Tacoma is 600 miles nearer than
?an Francisco is.
The climate and situation of the
;own are all that could be desired. In
L882 the lowest temperature was
;wenty-on<? degrees Fahrenheit in February,
and the highest was seventy?ight
degrees in June. Suow fell eleven
:imes in January, February and March,
ant generally disappeared on the same
lay. Frosts occurred five times in
A.pril and twice in May. The rainfall
amounted to 44.54 inches during the
;D aifnotoH nn what, was
f t?ctr? lliC C1VJ lO Oiuuuvvu vm ii ..
:alle<I Commencement bay, Puget's
sound, and is built on grounds ascendng.by
successive steps or plateaus,
;hree hundred feet above the water,
iffording a most excellent opportunity
:or drainage. From the main street
;he view of the sound, a beautiful
sheet of water, is a grand one.
Puget sound is a ravishiiigly beauti:ul
archipelago. There is not so lovey
a body of water on the earth.
Tourists by tens of thousands will go
pearly to Tacoma, to sail on this pur[>le
sea, through islands ever green
with fir trees, the purple sea buttressed
on the west by the snow peaks
)f the Olympian range, and sentried
in the east by the slumbering volcano,
Tacoma, 14,500 feet high, a pyramid,
jf eternal ice and snow. There is not
in all America such a superb spectacle
as this snow mountain. And alone of
American mountains it holds in its
heart a glacier, as grand and impressive
as that of Mount Blank. The
population has grown since 1869,
ivhen the city was settled, to more
than four thousand, and its streets
a;ive evidence of that thrift which is
jommon in the West, but which is
liardly known in the older towns of
the East. The people nave iiauuaumc
jhurches, water-works, gas-works, and
ill the conveniences of older places.
A New Y'ork,SocIety Joke.
The following is related in New
irork society circles: Mr. W. K.
Vanderbilt and his wife welcomed
Lord and Lady MandeviJle List fall, on
heir arrival here to spend the winter,
? it. ?rtivltalit.r The most I
bVlLll 1I1UU1 vviuix...,,.
elaborate and considerate preparations
ft'ere made for their reception, and
jvery arrangement consummated
ivhich could make their stay as the
Vanderbilts' guests as plejisant as possible.
Receptions, parties, dinners and
jails in their honor were given without
number. The Mandevilles, of
jourse, noted all this, and appreciated
t to the full. Xothing, however,
touched Lady Mandeville more than
the fact that all the glass and china in
their apartments?the pictures, basins,
water-bottles, tooth-glasses and other
toilet etcetera?were stamped with the
crest of the Duke of Manchester, to
whose noble family Lord Mandeville
belongs. Lady Mandeville pointed out
the fact to her husband, and thanked
Mrs. Vanderbilt for so delicate a compliment.
Lady Mandeville. has recently
learned that a representative of
the Vanderbilts bought the Duke of
* T nnrlnn fnp MPT
xMancnesier s urcsi m uviauvm ?.v> |,v.
sonal use, but as the design did not
please Mrs. "W. K. Vanderbilt, only one
room was so distinguished with it, and
a new crest was ordered in New York.
The Right Way to Brush Velvet.
The art of removing lint, dust and
light matter adhering to velvet consists
in the proper mode of managing
the lirush. Take a hat-brush?not too
soft, but having the bristles elastic,
and returning at once to their original
state after being pressed aside?hold
firmly under the palm of the hand, in
the direction of the arm, and with the
bristles downward and pressing them
first into the substance of the velvet,
then twist around the arm, hand and
brush together as on an axis, without
moving them backward or forward.
The foreign matter will thus be drawn
up and flirted out of the flock without
injury to the substance of the velvet;
and the brush must be lifted and
placed in a similar manner over every
part required to be brushed. Hy this
means velvet will be improve ! instead
of deteriorated, ;ind will liist for years. J
YEARS AFTER.
I know Jieyears^have rolled across thy grave . --fl
Till it has grown a plot of level grass? All
summer does its green luxuriance wave
i In silken shimmer on thy breast, alas I
And all the winter it is lost to sight ' $||sM
Beneath a winding-sheet of chilly white. ' "
I know the precious name I loved so much Bn Is
heard no more the haunts of men g^B "?faS
among; 9
The tree thou plantedst has thrown thy |SS v'^aB
touch, j^Hj
And sings to alien ears its murmnring song. ..
The lattice-rose forgets thy teudat '3 sweet;
The air thy laughter, and the sod thy feet.
Through the dear wood where grewthyvio
lets,
Lies the worn track of travel, toil and .
trade; " r
And steam's imprisoned demon fames and
frfifq.
With shrieks that scare the wild bird from
Milla vex the lazyjatream, and on its shore
The |timid harebell Bwings its chimes co more -jjafllB
But yet?even yet?if I, growu changed and
Should lift my eyes at opening of the door
And see again thy fair head's waving gold
And meet thy dear eyes' tender smile onco ' 'Jgl
These years of parting like a breath would
And I should sav, " I knew it was a dream!' jjjgl
?Elizabeth Akers, in the Centura.
HUMOR OF THE DAT. % .|ffl
It's better to have loved some girl,
It matters not how small. . '
Than to have lost love's giddy whirl, 31
And missed both short and tall.
A Polish novelist has written 590 in
stories. No one ever thought so many...
stories could be put on one pole.?
He: "Good-bye, Miss Smith, Fm
sorry I have to leave so soon." She:' jfly
" I'm very sorry, too; but still,4 part- ; q j|l
ing is such sweet sorrow.'"?Harvard
".Now is the time to subscribe," ;J|8 J|
said the editor, as he led his wealthy J
bride to the marriage register and gfflpll
shoved a pen into her trembling hand. f ja
?New York News.
When Mrs. F. asked for a new bonnet,
Fogg promptly refused. "A man
and wife are one," he said, "and it is a -1
duty to practice self-denial upon all 1
possible occasions." j
"Wendell Phillips hopes that the day .^ ''{1
will come when no man will smoke on '
the streets. The day will certainly ;||
come. It will be here as soon as there
are no men and no streets. II
In Italy a cabman is only permitted _
to charge fifteen cents an hour. But, * ^
then, the traveler usually pays him a m? '%
dollar to cancel the contract after
riding ten minutes.?Hawkeye. M
Canada claims owls so big that they
attack men. This Canada fiction was .
probably started by some woman to 'M m
keep her husband home at night.? a
Philadelphia Chronicle-Herald. . 3
They tell of a boy in the South whose J
feet are so hot that they will heat a 2
bucket of water in ten minutes. He ?
is probably a son of the man who can /I
make a tub of water boil by merely . 1
inserting his nose in it. Both cases 1
are remarkable.?Norristown Herald.
A visitor in the country seeing a
very old peasant woman dozing at her -jfl
? - - *-- - 1I1J.1- \ ^42
cottage aoor asits a uiue uvy ui su m ,-^m
seven, who happens to be playing near
by, how old she is. "I can't say, sir," 5^ JH
replies the child, politely, "but she ,r|S|
must be very old. She has been here
ever since I can remember." r||
A New York woman has been '-|j
awarded $5,000 damages in a suit 409 3
against a dentist, who broke her jaw- if
bone while extracting a tooth. The '{ jMk
award for damages is not too heavy. j
A broken jaw-bone is a serious thing |
to a woman?particularly to a married .
woman.? Middletoum Transcript. 1
A novel mode of advertising for a 1
wife has been adopted by an inhab- ,
itant of an English provincial town. "
A photograph of tbe gentleman is 'jjm
placed In the window of a shopkeeper , Slate''
and underneath is the following notice:
"Wanted, a female companion
to the above. Apply at this office." mBBME
George Eliot wants to know what BraSHj
furniture can give such finish to a ?&g?BB
room as a tender woman's face. We |gMHK
will tell you, George?a grand, piano,
an ebonized screen on which la em
broidered an old gold stork eating a
sky-blue Chinaman, and a fine old
tftUic coverea wiiu <*u r^amcau
feast. Puck. ^ j
A short time ago, at a school in the - | w
north of England, during a lessen on rW$$BM
the animal kingdom, the teacher put
the following question. "Can any B
boy name to me an animal of the '''fffB
order indentata; that is, a front tooth
toothless animal ?" A boy, whose
face beamed with pleasure at the prospect
of a good mark, replied : "I can."
"Well, what is - the animal ?" "My
grandmother!" replied the boyt< in
A Cuban Sugar Farm.
Seen at a little distance, says a New
York Evening Post correspondent, a
Cuban sugar farm is a pretty and pic
? *?j ?._u?
turesque sight, it is piaceu usuoaij ?
on some broad stretch of land, rising
and dropping in graceful curves. Pleasant
groves "of trees, glades of wood- ,
land, and far mountains, suffused in
poetic blue haze, lend a lovely general - . - $3
effect to the picture. On one of the ym
central curves rises the planter's home.
It is often a Chinese puzzle of architecture,
with no end of projecting
points and piazza work, covered with
lattices so as to let in the breeze whilo
it keeps out the heat, and so lined with
high colors of red or blue that in the
distance it ol'ten looks like a great toy
box. A little way from this dwelling
is a solid beam, set firmly in masonry J
and supporting the plantation belJ. l
Further away still is the vast mass 01 *
mixed-up buildings that make up tin
sugar works, flanked by the heaps of
crushed dry cane which is used as fuel
i for the boiler. Then grouped at various
distances from this plantation "^vs3
center are the rough mud and lath
houses of the negro hands in all stages
of architectural decrepitude. Beyond,
the eye lights 0:1 the cane fields, if ono
may use that term for what is rather a m
vast prairie of cane. It is peculiarly . , <9
hard to do justice to the beauty of one /1
of these sugar-cane oceans, its surxaco m
breaking into green waves under the M
wind, its solid ma s of verdure still J
further keeping up the watery elect, a
and its remoter bounds reaching far ~
away until they almost touch the horizon.
Dot this scene with stately paiin s
lifting their tufted heads sixty feet
high, with moving figures of horsemen
and toiling negroes, with frameworks
of loaded cane drawn by four-yoked
cattle, and the spectacle, seen from a
| distance where detail is lost, charms
I the eye with its pastoral loveliness.
1 But with nearer vision, when the
J outline is lost and details are brought
. to clearer view, one finds grim reali|
ties of thriftlessne?s. Everything
1
seems battered, and worn, anu wctihdi stained.
There is a prevailing air of j
unthrift and carelessness pervading j
the place. The trim orchards, the cle m '
yards and n&il ganhns that go with
wealth in more temperate zones havo
no place hare. The sng:?r m'U * rough
and unpainted, its ma- une y rusty,
and the broken cane .wtk'-Hi under
foot gives it a banv> s. ^Unnw.
Even the plaatei^? vn ?'.yelling with
its once f 1 ery paint, ? *>3 a washed-out
and dilapidated look which its intoiior
often conlinrs. Worst of all are tin ' }
I half-wrecked homes of the negr > lian Is,
| with the mud falling from yawning
1 cracks, the timbers decayed or broken, ?
and their outward and inward asp<*< t
! rivaling the mud huts of squalid Ire- 1
I land. 3