The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, January 07, 1885, Image 1
ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER!
BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY. JANUARY -7, 1885. . NO. 28. VOLUME XXIX. ~|1
OREAT.
I ho'i him great who, for love's sake,
Can give with generous, earnest will;
Yet he who takes for love's sweet sake
I think I hold more generous still.
I bow before tho noble mind
That freely so mo great wrong forgives;
Yet nobler is the ono forgiven
Who bears tnat burden well and lives.
?Adelaide A. Proctor.
LITTLE MISS MOY.
l!This, I suppose, must be the place!"
A lady descended from a carriage drawn
up in from of this great gateway opening
to the grounds of an imposing mansion
up the Hudson. This lady was
neither old nor young; she appeared to
be well cared for; she was well dressed
?equipped from tip to toe in a prosperous
neatness and womanliness. She surveyed
the handsome gro.mds! "It's a
good place, but it must cost a good deal
to keep it up," she murmured, critically.
Truly, it was a liaudsome home; the
soft forenoon sunlight lay on the grass of
the lawn?on the lilies and the still water
in the oreat stone basin where a DiDe
dripped.
It was delightful; two or three statues,
pieces of gray, weather-beaten marble
stood at agreeable distances, and a sundial,
evidently not indigenous to the
place, graced a sunny grassplot.
Presently this appreciative visitor
stopped, and, turning, addressed some
one who had kept a seat in the carriage.
'You can stay where you are, my
dear, or you can come and look about in
the grounds They are very nice; as for
me, I shall go at ouce to Gabriel."
She passed beyond the gateway where
two large stone heads grinned at her j
from the high arch.
"Heathenish!" muttered the lady;
"but, then, what could you expect from :
a painter?"
She paused, for just then a man, a |
young, handsome man. came out from a
sidewalk shaded with pink kalmia, and i
confronted her; he had a fine mass of i
ruddv hair falling to his shoulders; he j
wore a velvet morning coat, and he was |
smoking a cigarette; that seemed to be j
his only occupation.
The strange lady regarded him a mo- j
ment.
"Ah," she said; then, smiling a little,
"I know the look; you've got "the fam-1
ily look, after all. You must be my j
nephew, Gabriel Hertford!"
The young man doffed his hat in cour- ,
tesy.
"That is my name, at your service; if
I am your nephew, then you must be my
aunt, but I beg pardon tor not knowing ;
your name."
"Ah, yes. I forgot! I am Miss Pen-1
field?Mary Pentield. I cime this morning
to look you uj) as soon as I heard of;
that shameful business. 'I am sorry lor
you."
"Ah," said the young man, slowly, j
"you are very good to remember me;
you are the first one to say you are sorry
for me!"
"I dare say; nobody cares, although
everybody talks about it; but, then,
. there are a great many others. I call it
a great shame that one man can fix things
so that his falling will drpg hundreds of i
others down with him. This man, |
Gould, ought to be put in jail!"
Miss Pentield looked about her. Ga- j
briel had flung his cigarette away and
was looking at his visitor in what seemed !
to be a mixture of perplexity and amuse- j
ment.
"This must be a very expensive place
to keep up; it must take a lot of money." '
"Yes," said Gabriel, evidently following
as best he could where his aunt led, j
"it takes a good deal, but since my i
father died it has rather run down. My 1
being alone, you know?"
" Well, I don't suppose you will try
to keep it up any longer, even as a
bachelor's establishment; you will have
to work now to caru your own liviDg.
You like to work, I hope, Gabriel?"
" Yes, I like to work."
Miss Penfield smiled rather grimly.
"I have comc to offer you a -ituation;
you know I own all the laud between '
the two rivers out there"?she spoke as
if she^thought Gabriel must hkve a map
of the section where she dwelt "out
there" before his eyes habitually?"and l
I am always on the lookout for a good :
overseer?a good man to manage. There
are the cattle?such work as I have, 1
losing thousands of dollars every year; j
it's my firm conviction that Barker, theW
man I have now, sleeps all day and plays
poker all night. You are young and
strong; you are of mv kin, although 1 j
must say I never approved of my sister ,
marrying a poor man like your father? j
just a painter.''
"Perhaps you don't like painting,'
yourself, my dear aunt," said Gabriel
Hertford, softly, and with a perfectly
jerious face.
" Oh, I like paint iu its place?on the
fences and outbuildings; catch a poor bit |
a# #*?v1ah An mr liorno t Rnf r?nmn nro VAn >
VI 1/U1V1 V/Xl U1JI uuiuoi 1'"w vvu?v ^ utv j ww
going to accept my offer??are you going
with rae? Make up your mind. I
shall go on the evening express/'
Gabriel put his hands in his pockets
and stood looking at his aunt in some
perplexity. lie was evidently trying to
say something suitably.
"The salary is good," said the lady, j
abruptly. "For you I will make it two
hundred dollars more than the present
wan receives.''
She named a sum. Gabriel said to
himself that she was sufficieutly gener- ,
ous.
"My dear aunt," he said, aloud to her,
"your great goodness?your inexpressible
kindness and thoughtfulness deserve
a far better " They had been,
while talking, sauntering up and down,
side by side, across this lovely pleasurance.
Gabriel, in the middle of his i
i- j u '
speecu, siu[jjieu. nuuiu ncut uu a uaiuu
is that? "Where did ttiat vision come
from?"
For there, before them, right in the
centre of a big bed of lillies?tiger lilies
and sweet-williams and mignonette, stood
. a young girl?a tall, beautiful figure in ]
gray silk dress and mantle, a great feath- j
ered hat over her lovely brows, and sil- ,
ver chain about her slim neck and waist:
shining in the sun. Across her long,
gray-gloved arm was laid a bis stem of
lilies?In the manner of angels bearing
palms.
The noble innocence of look and attitude
were chaiming; it was a vision, a
mediaeval picture put there in Gabriel's
garden for profane eyes to look at and j
be healed. i
"Where in Heaven's name did that
lovely vision come Irom?"
"Who??Where?" Miss ' Penfteld ]
gazed about her. "Ob, that is my niece, j
Moy?Moy Farrars; she lives with mc. ;
I brought her on this journey for a
change, poor thing! She has not been
well!"
Tbe kindled fire had not died out of
Gabriel Hertford's face; his brows remained
flushed.
"As you were saying, my dear aunt,
in your goodness. I must work?ves, I ;
will go with you; I will try to serve you I
well."
A groom in livery came up the car
riage-walk, leading a young colt.
"Send some of the fellows about to
tell Saunders to put up things for a
journey. . 1 am going away. Things to
last for a long stay."
"My goodness?" Miss Pentield stared;
"is that the way you do? How shall you
manage about the house? You take;
things somewhat cool. I must say."
"Ah, the house?that is already fur- ;
nished with an occupant?au old fellow
with his wife; you see, they do things
quickly in these cases. I have only to j
go "
"Well, I declare!" Miss Penfield i
gasped, "to go and leave everything, my i
poor boy! I am glad 1 thought to come !
for you; my place is not so tine as this, !
but I guess I am about as well ' ?. Von j
don't catch me putting my money in the j
bank just for sake of losing-it Mo\\ i
chitd, come!"
"Is this my cousin, too?" Gabriel j
asked, looking at the fair vision with the j
wonderful depth of still sweetness in her
eyes, standing there with her white lilies j
across her arm.
"No, she is not your cousin; she is? !
well, it's no matter who she is."
Gabriel was capable of reading a i
meaning between words sometimes; in
this case he fancied thai his aunt meant
to express: "She's nothing to you, sir!"
* * * *
! *
That one year of his life passed at
Miss Penfield's home, called by her the
Bowerie, was an experience Gabriel
Hertford never forgot or underrated. It
was an education; five hundred acres,
all clear rolling plain, soft flowing river
and noble forest. The wild, glad life
suited his strong, poetic nature; the
long gallop from place to place; the
gusty wind in his ears; the voices of
men at work; the skies above him; the
grass below him.
To Gabriel's surprise, Barker, the man
whom he had superseded, staid on in
Miss Penfield's employ; he had accepted
an inferior post with a scant salary, and
Gabriel was not slow to perceive that
the man was doing himself an injustice
filling it; the fact was patent that David
Barker was a scholar; he was also a man
of splendidly developed powers, of keen,
flashing wit and proud temper. Why
was he staying there, thus?
Within six weeks Gabriel flattered
himself he had found out two things, for
a mysterious handwriting camo to flow
along the walls and write.
First, David Barker was in love wi h
Mov.
Second, Miss Peufield was afraid of
David Barker; she did not wish to
offend him, bat she wished to get rid of
him.
For Gabriel was witness to a scene
that moved him profoundly. He was
sitting in the deep window of the
morning-room where Miss Penfield's
desk was, and he was looking over sotne
accounts while waiting for his mistress;
the curtain dropped, hid him from view,
and he did not look out when Barker entered.
Just in that moment's pause and
silence an opposite door opened to admit
Miss Penfield. With a little murmur
the lady came forward to David,
handing him an open letter.
"Just read that, DaVid," she said,
rather exultantly.
"With a quiet look he read the letter,
and then returned it to Miss Penfield.
"Yes, it's a very grand thing," he
said. Miss Penfield turned pa!c.
"You ? you will accept the ? the
chance, won't you? You won't let such
an offer pass?"
"No; I shall not accept it."
" Oh, why?why not?''
"Because I wish to stay here."
"To stay here! Oh, David, it's no
place for you. Go?go where you can
do better." Then she clasped her hands
together. " 1 beseech you to go and
leave us in peace!"
Tim man lnnorhpfl Ollt. Ill find? ft lonpf.
* ?" o>
bitter laugh.
' You want me to go so much? Well,
I will go on one condition?that Moy
goes with me! Give me Moy for my
wife! You tell me to go to where I can
do better, Miss Penficid!" His words
were Rke iron missiles ilropped in Mary
Penfield's heart. "Tell me where that
place is; where cau I do better than 011
my own land??for this is mine. I own
the Bowcrie; my title is older than
yours; I have got it, proved aud sure.
But"?he advanced toward her; his
words hung over her like a threatening
leash?"I'll destroy it?as sure as there
is a blue sky above us, I'll destroy it in
your sight; I'll give up every scrap of
title, if you'll give me Moy."
He stopped white with passion. Miss
Penfield stood with her hands covering
her bowed face. The silence was terrible;
it seemed to beat about these two
actors like waves of a heavy sea running
over them. Gabriel sat silent; he did
not dare'to stir now; his ;;reat fear was
that he should be discovered.
Finally Miss Penfield looked up.
"Moy. give you Moy!" she murmured,
wonderingly. "Why, man, the child
does not love vou."
"Xever mind; I've love enough for
two. I'll teaph her to love me."
The worls seemed coarse, but there
was hot fever in the tone.
Miss Pentield at this lifted her drooped
head; some spark of proud temper lit
her eye; she straightened her tall form.
"Mov, my little fair Moy? You will
give me the Bowerieif I give you Moy?"
She hau this while been carrying in
her hand a beautiful white, broidered
handkerchief?a beautiful, costly trifle.
With strong lingers she now tore it
through the middle, straight across, from
edge to edge, complete.
"There is the contract!" she said, in
her proud contempt, and she dropped
the pieces on the floor at David Barker's
feet.
The matter rested there for a time,
and time went by, weeks and months;
but the look of pain deepening in Miss
Penfield's face grew at last more than
Gabriel could bear. Everybody wondered
at the change in tlue mistress. It
seemed to Gabriel that he lived through
it just because Moy came and went like
the rain and sweet light and dew of
heaven about the house; their "little
Moy," "little Miss Moy."
"My clear aunt." said Gabriel, one
evening, dropping on the floor by her
side as they sat about the gTeat log fire
? "dear aunt, I wish you wouldn't look
like that. Cry, for Heaven's sake, cry if
frtu miiot hilt /Inn't Innk* likft that!"
Jvu ?
Miss Penfield put her hand on the mass
of ruddy hair resting against her.
''You are a good boy," she said, gently;
her thin face quivered.
"I wish 1 could help you." Gabriel
went on, entreatingly. "Tell me your
trouble; let me try and help you; let
me share it!"
"Tell you? Soon there will be no
need of my telling; all the world will
know it. Oh, but it's wicked!"
She stopped in her wild words, for a
fiercer storm of the winter elements
raged without, A great gust of icy wind
struck the door and shook it fiercely.
The windows rattled in their stout
frames. They could hear the wild toss
of moaning tree tops; the creak of shattered
boughs, the sough of creeping,
shuddering, flying winds.
Moy came and knelt on the other side
of Miss Penfield, her look - was like that
of a spirit.
"I am afraid," she whispered, "there
is something dreadful out there. I can
hear it walk, it steps, lightly, but it
comes."
"ilush, child!" said Miss Penfield,
angrily; "what are you ravin? aoout:'
She seemed to listen to some sound. '"I
wonder where David Barker is? Ah,
what's that?"
Then came a low whine, a scratching
at the outer door.
"It's Fleet. I had not missed him before?strange!"
She spoke of the huge
house dog whose place was usually of an
evening before the lire at her feet. "Ah,
there he is agair>; let him in, please, Gabriel.
How the storm beats the door in."
Gabriel moved to obey; he felt strangely
reluctant?a voice seemed to cry to
him "Stay!"
He was holding the door in his hand
anxious to let in as little of the drift as
possible, when he felt himself flung
backward: some terrible thing shot forward
and precipitated itself against
them. He staggered down under the
blow. He struggled heroically; he was
conscious of a thunderous weight on his
.t . . e ^qu'j of- hiu thrnaf* nf
CUL'Sl. <JL luauiiitg Ml U>> v? , ...
huge claws at his breast, and hot breath
burning him. Still he would not die; he
f.ad heard cries, and now there was
auo'.hcr sound, the voice of a cherub
lior.iiag out of heaven where God is:
Save him, save him!"'
'Moy was there, her slender girl's* arm
was between his throat and the wolf's
jaw. Moy's little hands were striving
to drag the wild beast away. Must she
die, too?
" Ware there!" cried a calm voice outside,
and the splittering crack of a rifle
shot was heard.
Gabriel sat up dizzily striving to peer
through the smoke of storm and powder.
".Moy!" he said, hoarsely.
A face looked in the shattered window,
then David Barker entered the
room; he leaned his rifle against the
wall, and stooping, lifted Moy from the
noor.
"The ball went through hev arm.'' he
said, quietly. "I had to risk it. There
was no waiting; but it's nothing serious."
He pushed the golden hair b=ick from
the white still cheeks, and sighed as he
bent over her; he had placed her on the
lounge where Miss Penfie'.d was kneeling,
administering tender cares and
caresses.
"You wouldn't give her to me. thus I
give her back to you, and I'm not a generous
man," said David to Miss Pentield.
"Is she dead?" Gabriel asked, hoarsely:
he staggered up, lying against the wall;
; he was blind and dizzy. "It was like a
spirit floating past when she came to
help me. Did she go straight on to !
another world!" j
"I am here," said a now clear voice
from that other world so far from him,
across the room where love was.
* * * * * *
"So you sec, dear aunt," said Gabriel,
"we are going to live our one life to-j
nether. After all, I'm fit for nothing
but painting. Moy says she's fit for
nothing but an artist's life. We're going
on a tramp through Europe first, then
we're jjoing to work."
"You poor things," cried Miss Penfield;
"and I've not <jot a penny to offer you;
to talk of tramping."
"We don't want any penny," said
Moy, in love's new voice.
"We're going back to the old home,"
Gabriel said. "And oh, I was going to
mention, I forgot to tell Moy, too, it was
all a mistake about the money. I never i
lost any. I have got all I ever had." J
"Well, 1 declare?never lost any!" j
"No, it was all a mistake, it was
another person with the same name as
mine." j
"Why didn't you tell me??you ought
to have told me," Miss Penfield said, j
UUIUIJ.
"Ah, but you seemed so like a saint,
i dear aunt, coming to me in that way that'
morning, with your generous offer.",
Gabriel took his aunt's hand and lifting
i it, kissed it softly. "And I meant to tell
I you after I got my breath back, but?but
| Moy came among my posies. I wanted to
be where she was, so I let you be deceived.
Forgive me?love us!"
"Well, lam sorry I can't give Moy
! something. I can't say you've done any
i great things hers for me, nor do I beI
lieve you'll make much out of your
painting stuff." j
" You'll work all the same, won't
you?" said the love voice at Gabriel's
shoulder. " Will work and do good."
"Ah, my angel! Yes, do good, you!
j You'll see, aunt, what 1 can do when I
j paint Moy. I shall make a picture of
| her standing with the lilies across her
! arm, and every home shall know her
; facc, every devout heart shall look on
her likeness as something sweet to say
i prayers before."
" Ah, if you're going to begin by
! spoiling her,"said Miss Penfield, turning
j away; her heart was sore?they woula '
| leave her, these lovers, and. she feared
; the Bowerie was lost to her.
There came a morning when Gabriel !
and Moy went away from the Bowerie,
j man and wife. Love go with the young
i lovers; do good for all, be ye, too, ,
happy.
Miss Penfield stood looking long after j
them along the way they went. She felt:
j alone and ill at ease; it was long since
| she had heard from David Barker; where
I was lie? what new blow was preparing.
| "Shall we throw old shoes after them," j
said a voice at her shoulder, "It's a
' sign there'll be another wedding soon." ;
"I don't want another wedding," said
Miss Penlield. tartly, as she slowly faced
him; she disdained to show surprise.
"Ah!" David Barker smiled, signifiI
cantly. "I have had a chance to sell the
1 Bowerie," he said, lightly.
I "Yes? I'll get out of the way at once,"
answered Miss Penfield, putting her
hands in the pockets of her ruffled apron
to hide their trembling.
| "You needn't, I'm going to offer it to
you."
"I never take gifts."
) "Not even me?won't you take me?"
j Miss Penfield glanced at him keenly.
I "It's been a hard riddle to read; you
did not guess it right," said David Bar- j
ker, with a smile that made his dark
face tender and supplicating.
i Miss Penfield looked over about her.
Green wood anil fertile field, river and
i rolling plain, she loved them well?the
; old Bowerie?oh, she loved it.
"Well, 1 guess I'll take you, Mr. Barker!"
But it was the Bowerie she took I .
The Trade in *urs.
"Beaver skins are all the rage now,
and the Hudson Bay company has got j
rich on them," said a fur collector yesterday.
"Beaver will be worn more
than ever this winter. At the last London
sale the prices advanced ninety per
; cent., a rise double that of any other 1
ji.no wn. The long run on sealskin con1
uiiues, but it has not the popularity of
the beaver."
' Is there no prospect of exterminating
seal?" asked the reporter.
"Bless you, no! Seals can never be ;
exterminated as long as the arctic circle j
| exists and keeps crowding them down
from the sources where man can't reach.
The polar country breeds them in
swarms. Let me give you the rule of
extermination. With the increase of
population the larger species of wild
animals decrease, because they must have
a larger territorp to roam in, but the J
smaller kinds increase because they re;
quire less space and receive more from
WJiat tney gee Ull Itcuuuut in us uuuivn;
tion by man. We get a better quality of
: small "furs from the Middle States than;
| the aborigines did. We get a limited
j number of remarable-sized furs from
1 Alaska."
| "When do your furs sell treat?"
"Furs are sold at all seasons of the
j year. Of course the great London sale9
' are in January, March and June. Furs
, sold there are rarely caught except in
j January and February, but it takes the
Hudson Bay company until the followj
ing December ro get them to London, j
! where Americans have to purchase what
they want of their own furs. Manufac- J
turers do most of their work in hot
weather, which keeps up sales during
' that period. j
"A novel feature in the trade was in- (
j troduced this summer. Up at Lake
' George the ladies started the fashion of
i wearing fur trimming during the sum!
in^r. The fashion spread rapidly, to the
! nm?7(impnt of tho dt!:ilpr>i. This and 1
! other causes led to an advance in all1
j futs. The advance amounted to thirty
! per cent, on otters; lynx, twenty-five per
I cent.; foxes, twenty; Russian sable,
i twenty; Martens, thirty-five; bear,
j thirty; skunk, fifteen and beaver, ninety.
I There were 10.1.000 beaver and over2,000|
000 muskrat skins sold at the last Lon-!
don sales. France and America made [
! enormous demands for all skins."
"What are muskrat and skunk skins?" 1
j "The muskrats are used for ladies' |
cheap trimming, but more largely in the |
| manufacture of gentlemen's felt hats,
i The skunk skins are deodorized, after;
which they are used for trimmings on '
ladies' dresses."
' "Any further incidents of interest?"
"Yes; the fur trade is exterminating
1 the bear tribe. The most valuable fur
| is the Shetland seal of the South Seas.
It is nearly exterminated. The utmost
number of its skins taken in a year is
two hundred. It is the only fur of value
from the south, and a sacque from it
i costs from $000 to $1,'200 and jackets
from $150 to $400. The foreign skins
used in the United States are the Kussian
sable, tiger, leopard, Siberiarf squirrel
| and ermine."?JVeic York Sun.
The Lapps in Summer.
The Lapps seemed to consider the in-1
' terior of their houses somewhat 8tally on
| a summer night, for they were ail lyiug
j in the open air, wrapped in their rugs of
| reindeer-skin?men, women and children,
and the old grandmother of all the Lapps.
J The men wear tight trousers and jackets
of untanned leather, as do also the ehilj
dren, and the women have u sort of J
loose blouse of the same material, stopping
above the knees, their legs being;
swathed in cloth, bound witl* long strips j
of leather.
They are a very unprepossessing race
of quaint, elfish-looking little creatures,
with straight, sandy-colored hair, small
| gray eyes. The men have stubbly musi
tachcs, suggestive of a retired toothbrush.
They are all undersized, the
I average height of the men being live
j feet, and the women four and a half,
i Wheu the others had departed to seek
I the reindeer, we made friends with a
j woman who was by herself in a small
! grass hut, and who very proudly ex-!
lilKiff t] }?>r new-horn lwhv?h. rnieer lii
I tie creature, with a yellow, leatherf
I looking face. The babies are strapptf
carefully on to boards, and so carried o(
the maternal back, after the manner <*
! the Indian papoose. ? CasxfWs Family
' Magazine.
A great "lawyer once said, "Young
; man, whatever you undertake in life,
; master it; do not play in its shadows, but
enter its depths;'take the open, the deep
: sea, and you will at length come proudly '
into port."
4 WINTER IN MANITOBA. |
BXTBEME BIGOB OF THE WEATHEB ,
IJT THE NOBTHWEST.
I
Almost Krerj thin; Frco/ln? Solid at
Short Notice? Stories of the Cold
that sound Incredible.
i
A lady who lived in Manitoba, British
America, describing her experience in
Harper's Bazar, says: The snow outside
our house was from six to ten feet deep
from November to April. I trii-d to wear
boots last November, and one of my feet
froze. Moccasins, made by Indians, of
moose skin, are used instead of shoes to
cover the feet, which are first cased iD
several pairs of stockings. For traveling
on foot, snow shoes are best. Mittens
supersede gloves during the winter,
as the fingers, if separated, generally
freeze.
We were forced to melt snow for all
tho water we used last winter. The cold
was so intense that when melted sno?
water was poured from the boiler into a ,
' ? ? J AMAM rt n unn n f a V* * ,
pail, HUU lllft.CH ttl/ UULC UUIUU lu im
stable, the ice on it frequently had to bt
broken with a stick before the cattle
could drink, it froze so hard while
being carried a distance of some sixtj
yards in the open air. My hus- j
band would sometimes come in from
a short visit to the stock yard with hii
nose frozen; indeed, it is rather a com-.
mon sight to see people partly frozen, i
The part affected turns as white as
marble and loses all feeling. Unless you
see yourself in a glass, or arc told of it, 1
you are not conscious of being frozen.!
In this plight it is not best to go near a
fire, as sudden thawing is very painful.
People generally try friction, rubbing
themselves with snow, or, better still,
with paraffine oil. Occasionally, when
one is frozen, and far from help, the
part frozen, it an extremity, will snap ;
off. My kitten's ears froze and broke #11
last winter, and a neighbor's pony lost
its ears in the same way.
I was surprised wben I first found the
mustard freeze in my mustard-pot, which !
stood a foot from the kitchen stove-pipe !
and two feet above the stove, where there!
** 00 r> K1o7inrr firn nil rlav nnd Ai'prv '
through the winter. Yet the mustard
froze between every meal. Bread froze
if left for half an hour in a room without
a fire. 1 once left a pitcher full of milk
in the kitchen all night, and next morn
ing, on trying to move it, the pitcher
fell to pieces and left the milk standing
solid in its place. We could buy
frozen milk by the poundv frozen
so intensely that when I put a
lump of it in a tin into the oven, or on
top of the stove, the first part that melted
would burn to the tin before the rest ol
it had been thawed. I managed to mell
it by first chopping the ice milk into very
Bmall pieces. Clothes which had been
washed froze before I could hang them
on the line to dry. I used to leave them
out two or three nights for the snow and
ice to bleach, and they always needed j
thawing and drying again when they ,
were brought in-doors. Even after being
damped and folded they would freeze to- j
gether, and when I have been ironing j
the top of a pocket handkerchief tht j
lower part would fi eeze to the table,
which was close to a roaring fire. Ironing
under these conditions is rather slow
work.
Such stories must sound almost in
crcaiuie, except- tu iuusi; nuu, ujvc mjr-j
self, have witnessed the facts, though, ol
course, only in the most severe weather.
A bearded Englishman who stayed with
us last winter, was often forced when
he came in-doors to thaw the icicles
from his mustache, which froze to his
beard and hindered him from talking tc j
us. A pail of water left in the kitchen i
all night would freeze solid to the bottom
before morning. This happened ;
every time one was left for two months, i
In such a climate everyone who can
Afford it is dressed in fur. The Winni-1
peg policemen all dress in buffalo coats j
down to the heels in winter. The keen- j
est wind cnunot pierce them.
Winter is, of course, not equally severe |
throughout. Part of my description ap- j
piies only to its colder half. But to a
woman the most trying part of a winter i
in Manitoba i9 not its severity?for you j
live in a warm house?but its length. ;
Snow lay on the ground last season lor :
six months and a half, and the great
lakes are frozen for the same period.
One's eyes grow very weary of the bare,
blank whiteness and long fcr something
green to look at; yet the bright, clean,
still frost, with brilliant sunshine,' glorious
skies and moonlit, aurora-colored
nights, have great compensations of their
own.
Labrador.
One feature of the Labrador coast
strikes every observer?the absence ol
human beings; and not only arc they
not here, but the back-country is a barren
waste, given up to the wild animate
and probably never destined, horn tbe
rigorous nature of its winters, to become
the permanent home of a white population.
The occasional visitor is a huntei
or sealer. In some^ of the bays Esquimaux
live permanently. There are supposed
to be 4,000 in all Labrador, but j
they are fast dying off. At Battle bar- ;
bor there is a town, and the place is b !
famous shelter for the lishermen who !
venture into this northern country. The
houses are all small and rude, and every- (
thing is given up to the lishing interest,
every available bit of ground being de- ]
voted to racks and stages for drying fish. !
In the southeast portion of the place an
Episcopu church was consecrated about
thirty years ago, and hud for its first
pastor a nephew of AVordsworth, the
poet. There is another church at Fox
harbor, and here the visitor from the
south finds a genuine Esquimau hamlet,
with its kayaks, igloes and all. The
nearest mail station from here is Batteau
harbor, and from here the fisherman can
start iu any direction and find all the
sport desirable. On Sandwich bay there
is a mountain about 1,500 feet high, from
which a fine view of the surrounding
country can be had. Two rivers, West
and Eagle, empty near here, that provide
salmon that would make the Restigouche
country fisherman open their
eyes. The trout attain a large size, and
sea trout are extremely plentiful.
At the head of what the natives call
Natsbuctoke bay are the Narrows?a
body of water surrounded by high hilly
walls, forming a perfect gateway, dark,
gloomy and impressive. On the Narrows
is the Hudson Bay company's post
of Rigolitte, and about 150 miles from
here is the famous port,known as Northwest,
whoi> is said the Cree nation,
tliai have been such terrible enemies to
the Esquimaux, tirst began to trade with
the whites. The Moravians deserve
credit for most of the missionary work
done here. They have established a number
of missions, converted nearly all the
natives, made them give up polygamy
and marry in a Christian way. As in
many other cases, however, this refining
process ]" < ilearly bought, since it seems
that from the time of the Moravians the
natives have been gradually growing
less, and are in a fair way of disappearing
altogether. It is probably not just
to lay the deterioration of races to religious
advisers, but between the missionaries,
the traders, students of ethnology,
and what not, native races have a
hard time. In Labrador the natives
gather about the mission;} in winter, and
are educated in the mechanical arts, aud
carry on a regular business with the
.Moravians, furs being the principal article
of trade.?New York Evening Post.
The Manicure's Art.
The Parisian fashion of having a professional
manicure polish and point the
finger-nails has become surprisingly
i prevalent in New York. At the best
| known establishment in town there arc,
; beside the proprietors, about a dozen
young women assistants. The "patient"
| on his arrival is shown into a rcception|
room, elegantly furnished, where he
I awaits his turn. When it arrives he ia
I ushered into the operating-room and
placed in an easy chair with a table attachment,
on which arc jars, brushes,
sponges,*files and various little ivory im
plements. The finger-tips arc first soaked
in cologne water, then ( overed alternate
ly with a salve and powder. Then follows
the polishing, filing and shaping
The whole performance Lists about an
hour, and costs one dollar.* When it ia
finished the patient's nails are fit ob
jects for preservation in the Smithsonian
| institution.?Neu> York Mail and Express.
FARM, GARDEN AND HOU SEHOLD
Wintering Yonn^ Plgf.
Pigs born later than the first of October
will need good care and skillful
management to keep them in a thrifty,
growing condition through the winter.
This is particularly the case if you keep
them in large numbers; and it is a good
plan to sell all you can before winter sets
in. People who only keep two or three
pigs, to eat up the slops from the house,
can handle their pigs to better advantage
than the large farmer or breeder.
Such young pigs need milk, greasy
water, or broth aDd bread, or cooked
potatoes with corn-meal pudding. These
are more likely to be liberally furnished
from the kitchen when you have only
two pet pigs than when you have two
score or two hundred. Whatever
method of feeding is adopted, let it be
liberal. Let them have all the good
feed they will cat?no more, no less.
Give them good, dry, comfortable quarters
to sleep in; disturb them as little as
possible. Pigsare,in part,hibernating animals.
The more they sleep the better for
them and their owner. "We do not want to
fatten pijrs in winter. "We simply want
to keep them in healthy, growing con
dition; and the fatter they arc when
winter sets in, the easier it will be to
carry them through the winter. Pigs
well wintered arc in good condition to
thrive well on grass and clover next
summer. They will do far far better on
pasture alone than young spring pigs.
We are not now advocating having
young pigs come in the autumn; but. if
you have them and cannot sell them, or
do not wish to, then take the best of
care of them, and feed liberally. The most
profitable pork we have ever made was
from young pigs which had been well
cared for through the previous winter,
and the next summer fattened on clover
pasture. Experiments have proved that
corn is not the best food for the production
of pork when fed alone; but it
is employed more extensively than all
other grains, roots and vegetables together.
If used as a chief article in
combination with other foods it is unequaled
by any other cereal or vegetable
that can be successfully grown over
as great a rpnge of country. Peas,
barley, oats, mangels, potatoes and
artichokes are undoubtedly valuable to
- i ?natrop Oil.
a cerium exieut; ijui, iuu? v-au unw on
persede com for reasons obvious to every
intelligent farmer. We shell corn and
soak it in water twenty-four hours to
soften it, because some hogs, with defective
teeth, cannot thoroughly masticate
it when hard, and consequently
waste a great deal. Soaked corn contains
all the fattening qualities of
cooked corn, and is as digestible. Soaking
costs nothing; cooking is expensive.
For soaking corn it is best to use two
tanks or tubs. When a cheap power can
be obtained, it would probably pay to
coarsly grind or crack the corn; twelve
hours would then be suiiicient for soaking.
For variety, and to keep the hogs
ia healthy, thrifty condition, feed potatoes,
mangels, peas, artichokes, oatmeal,
and bran or middlings, mixed to a mush
with skim-milk or slops; even if only in
small quantities they will prove very
beneficial. Aim to feed hogs for market
profitably. Intelligent observation and
experiment will show how it can be
done. Remember that warm, dry, wellbedded
sheds are absolutely essential to
profitable feeding.?American Agriculturist.
Va?M.
"With the seeds out pumpkins are excellent
for milch cows, and when cooked
nre equally good feed for the early fattening
of hogs.
There is no more promising field in
the production of new small fruits than
the growing of seedling gooseberries of
the American 6pecics.
Tree planters should learn to know
that a well grown yearling is usually the
best tree to plant. Such trees have not
been trained iuto any form, and they are
more susceptible to the operations of the
planter.
Many old pastures cannot be conveniently
plowed. If free from weeds, harrowing
the bare places late in the fall
and sowing a little timothy and June
grass will insure a much larger amount
of feed next season.
Fertilizers aid nutrition, and in this
way assist a tree or plant in its struggle
with injury from insect attacks, or the
attacks of disease from any other cause.
In this way alone fertilizers aid in the
destruction of insect pests.
It is well to have one or two late
hatches of chickens. With a warm place
during winter they will be ready to begin
laying early in spring, and will continue
laying later in summer than those which
hatch earlier, thus insuring eggs during
a longer season.
Push the fattening hogs as rapidly as
* i.?
possioie wm.e warm weuiuer maio. v/uc
bushel of grain fed early will make more
pork than five pecks will when severe
weather comes on. Young pigs are especially
affected by the cold, and it is
dillicult to make the pen warm enough
for their profitable late feeding.
It is not generally known that refuse
tobacco, including stems, has a considerable
value as manure. In places where
tobacco is grown or manufactured on a
large scale, this refuse tobacco can sometimes
be hud for little more than the cost
of drawing away. It is very rich in the
mineral elements of plant food.
Now that the time has come for putting
cattle in stables some arrangement
should be made for saving the liquid
manure. If the animals are kept on a
floor it should be tight, with a gutter in
the rear descending to some place where I
the liquid will fall into a barrel or cistern.
This liquid manure can be best
applied by pouring it on the compost
heap.
I Where clover has been long grown and
allowed to mature seed many of these
will fall ou the ground and remain until
the favorable circumstances come for
them to germinate. With every plowing
some of these will be turned to the sur
face, and in some cases enough to make
a fair seeding. On land where such
seeding can be depended on farmers need
not sow as much clover seed next spring.
The wide difference in view9of farmers
! a< to the value of salt as a manure is due
I mainly to variation in the natural fertility
of the soil. If there is not latent plant
| food for the salt to make available it will
do little good, as it is not properly a
manure in itself. On heavy soils
' abounding in vegetable matter salt is
beneficial to crops, but it is by enabling
them to exhaust the soil more rapidly.
A writer to the Indiana Farmersslvs he
cures heaves in horses by withholding
hay and substituting green food instead.
He th' n makes a ball, as large as a hulled
i walnut, of ei|Ual parts of balsam of fir
andbtlsamof copaiba, giving the ani.
mal one of the balls night and morning.
It is suggested, also, that 1 he grain allowed
be slightly moistened and seasoned
with a little salt before leeding.
1 Around every house there will be
! found more or less bones, thrown out
from the kitchen, and there are also addi|
tions to this supply from animals that
. meet an accidental death on the farm.
The bones and carcasses of all such
should be saved. Manufacturers of fertilizers
pay one cent per pound for bones,
and they are probably worth more than
this if ground fine and spread on exhausted
fields.
The cause of the laying of soft eggs is
1 want of sufficient calcareous matter and
the stimulating clTects of pepper and
! #??,l wlionf- nfrpnninifs
ynuljil 1vcu. uuiiiv . ~
' should be given in place of no much corn
! and potatoes, which arc too rich in starch
and defective in limcund other materials
needed for eggs. (live every day to the
fowls one pint of the following mixture:
A peck of ash of burned bones or oyster
sheels, finely powdered, one pound of
flowers of sulphur, and one peck of wheat
bran. This should bo mixed with scalded
meal, used "moist, so that the mixture
will adhere to it.
The greatest difficulty with heavy
milkers approaching the period of calving
is reducing the flow of milk. The
llural World says that with ordinary
cows there is no trouble in the matter,
; because the milk secretions begin to fall
as soon as the cow becomes pregnant,
but with heavy and persistent milkers,
if the feed is oi' the right kind and of
sufficient quantity, there is no necessity
I for making any special efforts for drying
up the cow. The secretion will not be !
large at all events, but the needed phos- |
phates and nitrogen should be supplied
for the building up of the frame of the
calf.
Household IIlnt? and Recipes.
Delicious filling for a pic is made by ;
stewing some prunes until they are very
soft, remove the stones, sweeten to your
tnstc, and add, for one pie, the wellbeaten
whites of two egg?; beat with 1
the prunes until thoroughly mixed. Bake
with two crusts, or if you can get it. use !
whipped cream in place of the upper !
Crust.
"When roasting lamb or fowls, if you
do not like the flavor given by thin 1
slices of salt pork or of bacon, which
are usually put over them, take some I
hard butter, roll it in flour, and separate
it into small lumps and lay it here and '
there on the meat. This will give rich- j
ness and flavor to the liquid with which
you baste them.
To clean old marble or alabaster im-.:
merse the objects for two or three days j
in water to soften the dirt, lime, eto. ;
Then take them out and clean them with :
a brush. When cleaned in this way as
well as possible put them in a mixture of;
one part of concentrated muriatic acid
finci tnree pans 01 waier, uum tucj oppear
perfectly clean.
Beef dripping, which is so useful in
place of lard in many dishes, should be
clarified; this may be very readily done
by pouring boiliug water over it, and
stirring it so that the impurities will be
washed out, and will settle to the bot- j
torn. Let it cool, and the drippings will '
rise to the top; if it is not quite so clear
as you would like to have it, put it into !
a clean sauce-pan, and after heating it, i
strain it through a piece of muslin.
Boiled Indian pudding is improved for
some people if suet is added to give it!
richness. Chop a quarter of a pound of |
beef suet very fine, add an equal quan- |
titv of sugar, one teaspoonfull of ginger, j
half a teaspoonful of salt, enough sweet
milk to moisten the meal, add a tea- j
spoonful of baking powder, or about a
cup of sour milk and a teaspoonful of
soda. This should boil in a bag lor at
least three hours, and be served hot with
sauce.
A nice dish for dessert is made by
soaking half a pint of tapioca in cold
water for two hours, then let it boil
crentlv until it softens, slice canned
peaches and put into a pudding dish,
and pour the tapioca over them. Bake
until the tapioca is perfectly tender;
serve with sugar and cream. Dried or
evaporated peaches may be used for this
dish, and if they are properly eooked and
softened it is almost as good as when the
canned fruit is used.
An excellent pudding is made in this
way: Cut apples into halves, poel and
core them, put some dates or prunes
from which the stones have been removed
in the place of the cores; cover
them with cold boiled rice; moisten the
rice well with milk and water, putting
in enough so that the apples will not
burn down on the bottom of the dish;
bake in a moderate oven for an hour;
cover the pudding dish if there is danger
of the rice becoming too brown; serve
wun sauce maue 01 one n cu-ui-uicu cKgi
one pint of milk, one cup of sugar, a
little grated nutmeg or mace.
Gardening in Alaska.
Socially and from an agricultural point
of view Alaska at present does not present
a particularly attractive appearance.
Not only are its towns few in
number, but they arc far from being attractive
or thickly populated, und one
cannot but feel that a prolonged existence
at any one of the scttbments would
be a hard.-hip compared with which almost
any other would amount to nothing.
As for agriculture, an honest statement
must be that there is none now,
while nn equally honest opinion must
admit th.i' there may be fauns and
gardens ; i products if land is ever
properly tilled and if proper attention is
ever given the business. Talking with
the different inhabitants, one cannot
discover that the soil of Alaska is at
fault for the non-productiveness, but
rather that proper attention has never
been given the question of gardening.
At Wrangell there are a few tracts of
krtw/* Krtnn milt i crnf-p/1 nnrl
Ill LIU. >Y UlUiif uort wtuu \zuiui>??vvvt
which yield the more common and hardy
vegetables, and one farm in particular,
which has been worked by the missionschool
Indians, has made a most creditable
showing. At Juneau, a new and
very ragged-looking village, around
which are the largest and most promising
mines in the territoty, there are
several small gardens surrounding the
different houses, in which such vegetables
as cabbage, beans and potatoes are
raised with more or less ease in considerable
abundance. The greatest difficulty,
so far, lias been that the underground
vegetables, such as potatoes, tur
nips, beets and carrots, absorb too much
of the moisture which the soil contains.
But this trouble, as I have often been
assured, can easily be obviated by a system
of drainage. At Sitka one sees
more gardens, small, to be sure, and
carelessly attended to, but in which there
is a good and large assortment of vegetables,
evincing a growth which,although
not rank, is surely encouraging to those
who believe that Alaska can grow
enough products to more than meet the
demands of its possible population.
That the country will ever become noted
as an agricultural region in particular, dr
that it will even become a ciistriDuung
centre of cereals, fruits and vegetables,
no one expects and no one really hopes.
The question is whether anything will
grow, and the answer really must be in
the affirmative. Alaska has natural
wealth enough in its fisheries and mines,
so it seems now, and has no need to
trouble itself about its agriculture more
j than to see thai enough cau be raised to
| keen starvation from the door independ|
entfy of outside aid.?San Francuco
Chronicle.
A French Brigand.
I A Boulogne correspondent writes to
! the London Time*: The inhabitants of
| the small towns and outlying districts in
i the Ariege and Aude departments, bordering
on the Spanish frontier, have for
j some time past been the prey of a man
! named Campilla, who has destroyed life
and property on numerous occusious. lie
has hitherto batlled every attempt made
to secure him by the gendarmerie and
bands of armed peasauts. Not a day
passes but some fresh ravages take place.
The brigand is mo<t daring, and is reported
to be ii good marksman. He has
stated that no carneu mxiy mruiujjra,
I which he will make use of against his
assailants, reserving the last for himself,
when flight would be useless. While
tins population of Ax were absent from
their town recently looking for him,
j C'ampilla proceeded te atfix a notice on
the postottiee, which is situated opposite
I the gendarmerie station, stating that he
| would burn the place. Shortly afterward
j destructive tires broke out simultaneous
j ly in several houses on the market square,
! which were burned down. The diligence
! carrying the mail that night had a nar;
row escape, lie attempted to stop the
horses, but the driver had the presence
of mind to whip them up, and so eluded
the assailant.''
i "Fear is Head!"
j The Sind (India) Time*says: Anamus;
ing spectacle was witnessed at ShikarDorc
round the hideout) image of an
1 eurthcrn god representing fear. The image,
huge, out of all proportions, wore
i\n extremely dreadful appearance. About
7,000 people assembled to celebrate the
deatli of this god of dread. An old
woman ivjis sitting by the image, representing
the mother of the dreaded deity.
A circle about fifty feet in diameter was
formed round the imago, in :ne midst of
which moved hundreds of spectators,
men and women, crying at the top of
their voice: "Fear is dead!" "Fear is
dead!1 The old woman near the image,
oa hearing the death of her son, broke
| out into lamentable strains, mourning
the loss of her beloved son, the god of
fear. Some women again, afraid, we
I should think, lest the deity of fear may
j not be actually dead and might turn his
wrath again3t those who wero shouting
his death, reverently approached the
idol, kissed his feet, and scattered
fullahs upon it to propitiate its
anger.
j Spc?k what good you can of anyone,
and jet the reBt go.
A GREAT CITY'S MORGUE, j
VISIT TO OHE OP NEW YOBK8 |
NOTED INSTITUTIONS.
Where the Kamcieit Dead AwnH i
Recognition ? Satisfying Morbid
Curiosity.
Hedged in on every side by big structures
where the great destroyer is hover
ing over the bed of the dying or science
is forging weapons to oppose him the
morgue stands?a squat, dingy, melancholy
structure, stretching back from !
Twenty-sixth street, with the perpetual (
swash of the East river mournfully !
sounding beyond it. The flood of metro j
politan crime and misery ebbing and flow- j
ing between the city and Blackwell's |
island daily sweeps by it. Philanthropy ,
and curiosity elbow each other outside. ;
And despite their superior dimensions j
and the public interest that invests the
hospital and medical colleges around, |
the eyes of all that pass that way wander
first toward this poor hulk of a building;
for it is a tomb, not alone of the
thousands who have gone into its interior,
leaving life as well as name and
identity behind, but of its many dreadful
secrets which there have been immured.
Of the stories ot only a tithe of
those who enter does the world learn,
ond +Vi? vintim nf murrlpr and i
disaster have passed in and out of the j
gloomy place without ever leaving a |
trace behind of the tragedies by which !
they suffered.
Although always viewed with a gruesome
curiosity by all who pass,the world
at large is unfamiliar with what lies beyond
the shabby brick walls and the big
wooden portnl opening beside them.
Sometimes through the iron bars that
cross the windows a flickering light
shows some ghastly figure outstretched
in the dimness, but all the other horrors
of the place are mercifully hidden.
"What is within?" morbid curiosity
asks. Little and much. No strange appliances,
no mortuary devices. But all
the honors that death and decay create.
Enter through the little porch at Bcllevue
hospital and pursue a narrow pathway
down to the river side. You pass the
building of the Bellevue medical college
on ihe left, and a little office is before
you, with a few crazy chairs in it. a
stained desk and a few charts. On the
desk is a big registry book?a sinister
record of the dead. But it is not names
! that are here written,except where idenlU1
mnAn TVin rnr?nrrl ia
| uuuauuu lias uccu uiuul. *. tv.wiv*. IW
of apparel and of physical peculiarities.
Close by is a sort of dismal storage, where
the clothing and valuables of the dead
' are kept.
This office is only a little hutch of a
. place, and here the custodian of these
I dismal precincts waits. As a reporter
entered he stirred and looked up. Tall,
1 easy going, slangy, with a bit of a
swagger, he seemed the very type of the
commonplace "young feller" pcCUiiiu
to Gotham. A hoist of the Derby Lai
and then:
| "Well?1'
The reporter's errand was unfoiuea.
"Want to look around, eh? All right.
Come along. Not much of a show; don't
; ekal a theaytcr, but it's big in' its way.
See the stills first or afterward?" This
I with an inquiring look which took in
the visitor's whole appearance and eyi1
dently comprised a calculation of how
much of the horrible he was constitutionally
able to stand. The reporter,
i following his thoughts, suggested tnat
that p*rt of the exhibition be inserted
i near the end of the bill.
"0. K. Step up here and you can
1 look the museum over. It's up over!
head, it is, and the dockers think it's no
slouch of a mushum either."
Then up a few steps and a spacious
: lighted chamber appears. "Works of the
| anatomist, the taxidermist, the surgeon,
the sculptor and the painter are all
} about, Here in cases are skeletons, generally
deformed or monstrosities in their
i way; specimens of strange bone formations,
the remains of animals of the lower
orders; in others are exhibits of the progress
of loathsome disease*; in others,
still, human monstrosities of every kind
! ?the whole, in short, an excellent medical
museum, well worth a visit, albeit
; presenting some revolting exhibits.
' "There's sum things here that ain't
nowhere else in the world," sagaciously
! explained the Derby hat. "Tbie dockers
I go large on this mushum."
Then down stairs and through a dim
passageway to that gloomy chamber
which faces on the street. Gloomy indeed
it is. The frowzy walls arc. gloomy,
' the great whitish slabs standing in a row
upon the pedestal are gloomy, and
gloomier still the stark, wan bodies
stretched upon them. The very gas jet
burning over these melancholy figures
seems to shed a dim sepulchral radiance.
Fancy in the presence of such sights
takes flight and passes through all sorts
of horrible imaginings. Who are these
nameless dead ? What brought them ?
here? Where did that one come by the
bluish tiash on the head, or the other by
those great bruises ? Was death sought
or was it the result of man's malevolence
I The brain is in a whirl in the presence of"
such a picture, and a sense of relief is
| felt when this gloomy chamber, to whose
gruesome uses that of holding autopsies
I is now added, is left behind.
The derby hat all this time has been
j silent?not through awe evidently, for
his familiarity with such scenes is illusj
tratcd the moment he enters in a way
1 that makes the susceptible visitor shudder,
but he has confidence in the effectiveness
of the picture and knows his lo|
quacity cannot deepen its impressions.
, "The slabs ain't full to-day," he says,
apologetically, as he turns the knob.
, "But 'tain't often so."
Then out into the blessed air of heaven
' ?more blessed after such a scene, one
| feels, than at any other time. Here is a
paved quadrangle between the main
brick building ;inu a long, iow siruciuic
extending toward tho water. On one
side is the big gate which opens on the
6treet. Through it, the Derby hat explains,
the hearse enters to carry off the
! identified dead. Through it, too, the
I name ess ones go off on that sad trip up
the East river to Potter's field.
1 " 'Spose you want t' see the dead
house," he goes on. "'Tain't at all
pritty inside, and there's no night bloomin'
cercus about it neither; but folks
! what can stand it generally want to have
a look."
j The dead house! What did he mean?
j Had it not just been visited?
"Oh, that's where the fresh cases
goes," the Derby hat explains," and the
dockers operate. The stiffs what don't
Joe picked out after awhile get boxed up
| and stowed over yonder," pointing to the
low wooden building. "They're left
there longer to sec if their friends don't
call. If not, then they go off. Drownin'
cases or cases where bodies is decayed
or torn up all go in yonder."
As he spoke he led the wav to the
K.,+
UUUUJIlg?.'Illicit; sugu, uui. ivuuii >???^.
secure from wind and rain?and opened
| the door. Hut from the horrors of that
I charnel house the curtains were unwisely
lifted. Poor humanity, shattered, torn,
mutilated, beaten about by wind and
tide or preyed upon by the still more disfiguring
hand of decay, appeared in
< these rough pine boxes in forms and aspects
that only those who have encoun'
tered the horrors of the battle field can
t guess. A glance at the placc photographs
upon the brain a picture that long
abides there.
"Are there many visitors come to look
| at the remains?" the derby hat is asked,
i "Visitors?" he laughs. "Hundreds.
; Not friends either, a hunting for relatives,
! but folks that just come out o' curiosity.
I Some seem to like it, and come again
| and again?especially women. Yes,
| women. I remember some who used to
' ?f olrnnct n 1)i]?ino<4M till wn tired of
it and bounced 'em. Of course, some
' times there's a railway smash up or some|
thing big to turn people's ideas thut
| way. Lately we ain't been troubled
I much. It's i ui'o ouiot now, and pretty
slow inside, : in' it?" He nodded toI
ward the dre: df.il shed. Slow! Fur
from it.?Ae/c i'ork Herald.
1 Let a man learn to look for the per
! manent in the mutable and fleeting; let
j him learn to bear the disappearance ol
! things he was wont to reverence, with
out losing his reverence; let him learn
< that, though abyss open under .-iUvsh,
and opinion displace opininu, all are at
I last contained in the eternal cause.
t::. '..Bsjismaeiihnicrij
n??il states.
.1 Xkw'York nk'!> r.:ili!e ?g.^n.*y fc>v?s
jrt? lrom 4,1/tM C'ji'V -f.'V'tnicnts l.M tv/.
,vo hiiite*. fhoi.'i ' t'
ill'O Ou * ?'! ., . -> . i' '
rC-UiSC^i i 1::
o i\? ... . . ?fe..
O tuO *?>?.. / l.. .
L'.-. .ii it"
Uj-jlviil > I.*. . .lii& ftii
tticai.-t) Mi:,.! > : AyXWcotn.a
u r. i.'.n . . :. 'j'uero is
now i .... ui"( sh^w,
in).' .. .-vJ gltui .u:Uer
.. ...; ..(^wrs.
A tfftiiM.) '.li !i lay.s i-ifittiio
< it.-' .ii ins :-ii a Km.; t'.io .. >. .u
run iij :>;on ia .ili?:? .. .. i
a c hi'.. ircoJilji-.rbujli i. ...
i>. Ar. Anisi. r-iaw, N. Y., 2.*/ . ...pi
. i.it.jfiCo:'!carpet milis.
:t itvliici.' >? ten jier
.. Siiiiii'ii.v.' was a i>ictuiuen:
<. . . i i ye;;r'sMiniver.-K.ryoi lite ia:u.t
. > i i'all'. Mr. <;otatiraU*i oy tin*
. . i society, o: -.? '<' York.
:c il.\u)., an Aioaay (In. Y.) sa!ct<
. .. tn.-.ii. In.. ..I.IMmk TV....
. uncons-;<jt:s in their sleeping rocnu,
. been asphyxiated liy coal gas. Mr.
. ; i mul the youngest e.ii'-i were dead. Mrs.
i j un-.l til-" other cL:.<! were restored w
"ion. .lie: a
iV Hart's Theatre C'omique.
ww of the I>>";i-inio'?vii piacesof onuisemen'
'.it iNew V,was completely destroy e I by
l.iv ti'.o other mo: ning. The theatre wnsituated
I- JiroaUway anil was originally i
ch :.ei\ T!its total loss is about c^.OJU, wi.ii
no insurance auJ nothing saved.
A i'ltte d.-stroyc-d tiie greater part of the
badness section oi. I'ainbridse. N. Y. The
aggregate !o:.-<s are about ?100,UUD.
tiovEiixou Clkveuaxii held his farewej.
rec p'.ion to liersoiial friends at the executive
nmnsiou in' Albany. It was his first so-ial.
a >distinguish < i from the legislati ve reception:
wliich have been given by liini, and about 'JO"/
guests from' Albany, Troy, ButFalo and
Syracuse were present.
During t!.*- recent heavy gales numerous
disasters to shipping craft occurred at varior. ?
points along the .A tlantic coast. ThesultV
.ugs of tho < rews from coid and exposuro i..
some instances were very gjvat, and >.?verc
iives were lost. .Nearly a dozen si ho ner.-.
w.-e reported wrecked.
A i)t.-?PATi'JU from Kail River, Mass., Ihe
^.n. at mill city, ;'.a?es that t' e ..." are all
running, lire operatives are e . .-..'UKi
there i.-> no tub: oi' a strike .? i . ot
wages.
Auuam C?? t;' ... ett-KiSovvn s'.orakwpsr
of I'arl; Ridge, ... v.;: attacked i j h: -'
Jure wJiiio .?iy's iUM
mui'ileivri by a mail named His-o.
j.i:o inuidci'or'ri i.tfUivo robb_?ry. fiihci
f-siape l, but v.us erasure I in rutereoa.
Thk Criti.ili sltip Lornly was run into by
i.iie ovean steamer Cornwall, in New Yoi k liar
b;.r, and s;.n: in twenty minutes. All 0:1
ioard tii-.* Loruty sei-nmi:k'l solely on ti.e
Cornwall. 'ii.e -> . ? of .siup and cargo i:
about
South anil V.'eM.
UusTUl'CTmssuu iholravk wivcko t a trail)
near i'urvis. jii&s,, and ti:e oa^jn.ei- aa 1 lira
man wen; ail u i.
Gnui.: V.*. V.rai.!.i:a. on* of liit* most
prouiiuunr. iuwy::rs in I'm iii-.-ni \ iir,i.?'a,
..-onunittc i k;S- nie. lie I.au iusi a .11 x>:v
Confederci' NC-rviiv. aud suacrcU h iivni
pain in th.- :.laaiu.
1'aili:o\!? tratik' ia CV.wa 1>? i;uj 'icmvi
;i.rious'y implied I y a mow blockade; iiiaii>
.abins Law a < : .>!,. ! In },v tlie wt*i;*iiC ul
11:0 snov/. jmuI i.n i ia so;:io luu
b?Jvii liiVik'SI} .siy?i ia J.
F.UJMi a wealthy resident of
Wheeling. >.. W.., was i; I and inygj-.i 1 .
Lis hoa.i; i y Uiiv.o niaske l burgiars, a w
ouriicdteri ii-ly wit 1 a lvu liot poker to mai
uitik ftivo up hi* money. He was torture.
or tiiree h ?ars. aim ha I forly-tlnve burnsou
i?>s body, .Numer.jus robberies, accompanied
jj brut:*.! treat aeau, have oocurrc i r-ontly
;n Wheel i i*r.; ml a general feelmy 01' insecurity
p'.vv*.m.'.'s tho c ity.
vHic fui'j'o >;-y- o;' iiie Garfield 'intiona!
"iO;:uiu.-:u i.;-. < Lilian, <J. 1.'. Itliories, oi
i ievelanti. that t .c e...,.riLutioi:3 tc
moni'.iiiji.u ;u.Ki u;> 10 Lictciuoer 15 were
WnsliJiisloiii
Tuk sec rotary of th* h\\v:-ury has oruoie-:
jil collectors of i*im:o '-it to )?. ;'ris* any
oid ra^H e.<- not thox.' ;ij. .<!. o.r or lioiuiei
u.a'v 1. 1 - in vv-s. . i. 'i <iiroct ar i.t
L'r.iCJtl ."itatf , u? i#> . i.wiiiy jiort uu .
Ii.ey have livon tlisuifc.. - i ?c tne tvLpcii*
tuo iiuporie:'.
iJ'jiiAO : V> jn ">h !' >. ' :".v v.:.j i o.ii
i!.a-<AJ i-J *V > I.! ; <;;"VU ....
:.';di'fi'ii! ' I'I ' > .
iuCaF'il' . ?' I'V "iCJiW
* i .. ** 1.1 .J.'-' 1.0.,.'v\ i/ l.ia i ii^Li
J|V C..K/ ' 1 la-ait-;
\:.,.n s.iv iiovt-v i.y .
]J. i'LATT Car;*. : v '. " _'w-w Vi
eontiruiii.i liy : .
.\;o;rnua. ar.-i i? .
.. \i
T..i. ii '...I n ?;; v>:(i iiuion ow?\, . ' :
i i>v<> ! 'ii i.u-ii iaV"! iji.ari i .
lillij m&iluii, 1-V l". il J.a.-.V.-U ?.J ''
L-&ate.
Foreign.
i nMii-uJt persons were drowned In ?
collision between two Spanish steamers in th?
harbor of Manilla, Philippine Islands.
Three of the German anarchists on trial
for an attempt to nssassinate Emperor William
were sentenced to death, two others to
ten years' imprisonment, and the remaining
three were acquitted.
All printers in St. Petersburg are searched
nightly by the police on leaving their offices,
in order to prevrtat the secret printing of se,
ditious literature.
A committee has been organized in Borlin
to raise a fund for Prince Bismarck as an expression
of the confidence of the nation in the
statesman.
Professor Wiooi.vs, the Canadian
weather prophet, says the winter of 13SlrS4
was remarkable for an abundance of snow as
well as intense cold, as will be the winter of
1884-85. Earthquakes have occurred in both
hemispheres, even visiting England, and un
usual floods liave taKoti place, o-ipeciany in
Cincinnati last February , and will recur next
summer.
A formidable organization of Russian
nihilists, under the guiso of an importing
Grm, has been unearthed L? London.
The liabilities of the Boheni an Land Credil
company, which suspended recently, amount
to i'J,UOU,UOO florins Numerous small banks
are involved in the failure, and some are
ruined Shareholders lose the whole amount
of their investments.
A body of 85,000 Chinese troops, under Li
Hung Chang, are massed at Peiuo, ready tc
attack the French.
WON BY THE PLAINTETr
rai?s Hill Declared the Wife of EsNcnator
Sharon.
The celebrated Sharon divorce suit has been
decided in favor of the plaintiff. The suit, as
brought in San Francisco by the plaintiff, Miss
Sarah Althea Hill, claiming to be the
wife of Ex-Senator Sharon, of Nevada, was
for a divorce and division of the common
property. Judge Sullivan's decision is verj
comprehensive, containing 26,000 words.
After reviewing the testimony, he
concludes by declaring that under th<
laws of California, the plaintiff is the lego,
wife of Sharon, and as such, on tin
ground of willful desertion, is entitled to a
divorce and division of the common property.
The latter is estimated to bo wortb
$10,000,000. The verdict is a great surprise
to the San Francisco public, it having Wei
generally supposed, from the contradictor's
character of the testimony, that the plaintifl
would have been non suited.
\V. H. L. Barnes, the leiding counsel foi
Mr. Sharon, says of Judge Sullivan's decision
' It is ati entire surprise to the profession
both as to law ami fact The judgment, i!
it stands, will not be a serious pecuniar}
injury to Mr. Sharon. I don't thin!
he has $10,0 X) worth of propertj
which could 'no made subject to th<
decision. Mr. Sharon is greatly annoyed bj
the decision, but has not the slightest idea ol
submission, and of course will appeal, and w<
are confident of reversing the decision. Th<
suit brought by Mr. Sharon in th?
United Stales Circuit Court to have the mar
riage contract declared invalid will be prose
cutitl.'"
The plaintiff's counsel will make anplicatior
for counsel fe-s mid #5.000 per month alimonj
for fourteen months, or since the beginning
of the case.
The trial just brought to a close was begun
early in the spring of 1>S4, and on the Pacifi<
coast created one of the greatest sensation;
ever produced by any cause that has conn
I . - 4.? *
06(01*6 UI6 court?*. lutio IS, lit iau, uaiuu
sensational feature that has ever appeared ii
any trial that has not been developed it
this during the many months it has beer
in progress. Attempts to shoot lawyers ii
court, fainting of witnesses in court, necro
mancy, deathbed confessions, comical Chines*
witnesses, weird negro voudoo witnesses
fierce disputes, searchings for concealec
weapons, skulking detectives, fist fights, anc
perjury in endless variety have prancec
through the shifting scenes of the drama ii
bewildering confusion.
Miss Hill was never a wealthy woman, aoc
the mystery of how she employed four law
yers, at regular salaries, and incurred at
average expense of about $1,000 per day
was explained by the statement that a regu
lar stock company had been formed to bad
her and that in tho pool was a wealth]
widow and half a dozen or more of wealth^
men who expected to make a handsome prod
if she won her cause. Ou the other hand
Senator Sharon had said he would tight thi
case through if he had to spend a million do!
lars. So the lawyers flourished and foi^li
on with ardor.
H'JijMM OF CONGRESS
Senate.
1 Tho clinir laid Iwfore the Senate the cclen
'lnr of bills unobjected to, but on motion cf\
Mr. Morrill, without further business, the
Senate, at 12:10 went into executive cession
| 1 he doors were reopened at 12:35, when the
cliaii' announced his signature to the concur
rent resolution providing for a holiday recess
from December 24 to January 5, and on mo
tion of Senator Allison, the Senate at 12:3$
adjourned until January!>, 1855.
House.
Mr. Randall moved a concurrence in the
Senate amendment to the adjournment resolution
which provides tljat the recess shall
last until January 5, 1885. Mr. Beach, of
New York, wished to debate the proposition,
but the Speaker ruled that it was not debatable
and the motion was agreed to. The - k
House then, at 12:25,adjourned until January
O,
MUSICAL MD DRAMATIC
Margaret Mather is said to bo tho hardest
student among American dramatic artists.
Thomas K. Sarre.vo lias written a magical
comedy which will be produced iu Boston
early in ApriL
Bartley Campbell travels with "The
Galley Slave." Ho thinks, however, that
"Fairfax" is his best play.
It is said that Miss Fortescue will star in
America so soon as Lord Garmoyle pays his
little breach of promise bill.
A young English army officer is playing
small parts in the Ristori Company just for . : ^
the sake of seeing the country."
"Tom" Mathews, the famous clown who
was Grimaldi's most apt pupil, is living at
Brighton, England, eighty years old, hale and
hearty.
The celebrated pianist, Rafael Joeeffy. is
expected to appear in America this season.
For touch of beauty and of execution he has h
no peer.
Miss Kate De Jonoe, formerly prima dona
with the Hess Opera, will shortly head a
comic opera company now being organized
in New York.
Mr. and Mrs. William Peak, the aged $
bell-ringers, have been compelled bv poverty
to resume professional work. They have .
passed three score and ten.
Mr. Percy Gaujot,musical director of the
"Two Johns" Comedy Company, is wilting
the libretto and score of an. original comic
opera to ba produced in New York.
Most of the traveling dramatic companies
are submitting to a reduction of twenty per ;?aS|
cent, in salariea It has come to a choice W
twcen that aud disbandment, so bad is business.
Campanini. the tenor, o?raa two hundred
and fifty heaa of cattle in Italy, where he now ..<*&
acts as farmer, wine-maker, miller, silkgrower,
linen manufacturer, cattlo-dealai
and tenor.
Carlotta Patti, who is confined to hex
house in Paris with a broken leg, the result
of a carriage accident, will come to this
country next season under management of
Max Strakosch.
The profits to Moody and Sankey on the
sale of their revival hymn books are said tc ' mm
have reached half a million dollars. No othei .
i publications in that field have approached
j these in popularity.
Mlle. Alba ni will sail to-day for New York,
' appearing in opera in the spring with Maplei
son at Chicago. She will sing in oratorio
| through the winter months, and concertiza.
; Her Husband, Ernest Gye, will accompany ..
I Charles Thayer, who is managing Ed
win Booth, says that crowded houses are the
rule, and that the star has achieved a notable
triumph. There will be several revivals ol
old pieces. "A New Way to Pay Old Debts,"
| "The Iron Chest," "The Apostate" and other
"standards" will be given.
PROMINENT PEOPLE. ?J
Boston has her first Roman Catholic mayoi -jy|j
in Hugh O'Brien.
Governor Eaton, of Colorado, according *32
to the Greeley Tribune,cleared $60,000 by the . <past
year's farming.
John G. Whittier celebrated his seventyseventh
birthday a lew days ago in his cottage
at Amesbury, Mass.
Misa Emily Faithful, the well known
English lecturer and writer, is attacking
Mormonisin on its outposts in Scotland.
Mrs. Hendricks, it is said,does not intend
to take a particularly prominent part in
Washington society during the incoming administration.
Captain Pim, of the British navy and late
1 member of parliament, proposes to build a
railroad from Cheyenne to Hudson bay and
{ to raise $200,ihX',OJO for the Nicaragua canaL
' It is said that Mr. Gladstone does not like
to wear the bier bouauet that alwavs adorns >
bis coat-lappel when he speaks iu the house
of cjturaoos, but his wife insists upon his
! doing so.
j Mn. b. w. Gosse, now on a visit to this
country, has been warmly received. He is
the hcturer on Eugiish literature at the University
of Cambridge, and is learned in the
languages of northern Europe, besides being
a i*jo" and literary critic of note.
Miss Gabriel Greeley, the youngest
daughter of Horace Greeley, i^ possessed of
considerable artistic talent. In one of tho
i fashionable residences of Washington then
is a beautiful pencil sketch of a sleeping baby,
J taken from life and drawn by her..
Miss Maby Gwendolen Caldwell, of
I New York city, who has just given $300,000
j to found a Catholic university, was of age
| last October. She and her younger sisters
I are orphans. Their father was a Virginian,
j their mother a Kentuckiau. Each parent
| left them a fortune, and they possess about
two millions apiece. No young la'dy, in this
country at least, ever made so magnificent an M
educational endowment. ''Personally," she
says, "I should prefer to see the university
built at the South, for though born and udtar,
! cated at the North, my family are S mthernera
and my feelings are Southern." /.j|
??
NEW 0FLEAN3 EXPOSITION. ' J
? - M
The Dally AitcmSnnce InrreonlnfAttrnctlvc
Displays by States*
A despatch from New Orleans saysf
Another lar^e crowd visited the exposition
grounds to-<iay, an increase over tne previous
day being again noticeable. Among the visL
toi-s to the city are a number of school teach
i ers, who take advantage of the holidays to
como to the exposition. They are from all sec|
tions of the country and every train brings
' j large additions. Over three hundred came in
from Texas to-night, and 1.500 more from the
1 | West will arrive to-morrow. They 'will find
' the educational department ot the United
j St;;tes exhibits in an incomplete condition.
; j Commissioner Eaton not yet having re'
j ceived all his freight. Many of the
j Suites, however, make a fine display.
i i notably Maraichusetts, Rhode Islana
> and Illinois, while the city of Now Orleans Sz
| also makes a very creditable exhibit of school
work. So the teachers will see much to inI
tere.'t and instruct th^m,notwithstanding the pj
general educational department is not yet in "j
| In ^the government building several 1
| more of tho collective State exhibits have sJGk c
been completed. These are Arkansas, Alaryi
: land, New Jersey and Ohio. Tlieir
j displays are very handsome and furnish !&??|
j an excellent illustration of tho va1
! ried resources of tho States. California and vSHB ?$
1 Minnesota are nearly complete. Nebraska
j i Iris made many additions to her already mag- .&
' j nillcent exhibit. Other sections have not
' j lone so well Tlie South Atlantic States are
i hm-kwnril. while New York and Pennsyl- 4-e
. anift as yet make no display at. In the .
West Michigan and Minnesota are just be'
riniting to receive the bulk of their exhib
15.
i
A TIDAL WAVE.
; ? -i
1 Two Venrli at !Vcw Haven Sunk? ,-;t
! Caused hy nn Earthquake. i
r | New Haven has been visited by a tidal wave
I which did considerable damage to shipping.
I At 11:10 P. M. the tidal wave swept up the
: bay from the south through the large fleet of
, ! weather bound vessels in the harbor, sinking
[ the schooner Onrest, Captain Reed, of and
, for Providence from New York with 000
r tons of coal, and the Bee Line Transs
! portation company's new barge
I Bouquet, from Perth Amboy to Norwich.
' with f>UO tons of coal. The same wave also
' snamxxl the two large chain cables of the
1 coal laden schooner Nellie Grant, Captain
' Dodge, from Hoboken, for Portsmouth, New
Hampshire# Otherwise, she too must have
been sunk. No lives were lost.
The wave was about ten feet high and
' came sweeping through the darkness like a *
' stupendous wall of water. The wind had
> : been blowing fresh from the south-southwest
in the evening and there was a light
[ j sea. At 11 o'clock several persons in this
: ( pifv snv that thev felt an earthuuaki\ and it
3 i was a few moment* later that the wave
9 i s' ruck the vessels, all of which were deep in ' J>- .. <,
1 the water and consequently failed to rise
1 ufliciently after the wave broke on their
1 de ks.
1 The matter of the tidal wave creates much
1 comment among mariners at New Haven.
Boa1 s were swept from the shore by it and
5 vessels torn from their moorinp*. It so<in
J subsided, however. Nothing like it is recalled
| in the annals of New Haven.
1 NEWSY GLEANINGS.
The Standard Oil company employs 93,000
men.
j Tennessee has sixteen coal mines in sue'
cessful operation.
I Farmers near Fresno, Cal., are marketing
green com and strawberries.
Walla Walla, Washington Territory,
has fortysir Chinese students at a school
there.
It is said that James Gordon Bennett is to
start a London edition of the New York a
Herald.
1