Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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H TOGETHER. Th9 summer-time is brief, WL- When the brier is in the leaf, And the arras of the heavens is blue; ? ^There's not a cloud to-day, Search we near or far away, Only sunshine, only sunshine, for us two. The dimpling; water calls, Thf> tide to landward crawls, Shall we spread the sail, or dip the oar, L And steer for Tyntagil, I Or what fairy coast you will, | Whatever mystic, far, romantic shore? The nymphs and nereids there May twist their sea-weed hair, And the sirens [sing their sweetest melodies. While we float and float along r? To the echo of their song, Out on the mysterious, storied seas. We may lean upon the oar, And listen to the loro ?That the breakers whisper in our ear; Wo may catch the sigh, alas! 'jt'- Of drowning folic who pass Far beyond us to some unreported sphere. But perhaps the wind may rise, !* And touch us as it flies, And the white squall follow in our wake; And sweep us farther still, f- With its resistless will, Prom the flower-haunted strands we hope to make. Yet engulfed in bitter death, With fainting, failing breath, Touching land unkuowa in any chart, What to us the waning light, Of the planet in its flight, - -So we neither live, nor die, apart? k ?Ma ry A7". Prescott, in Bazart S UNCLE ULRIC'S MONEY. "So lie's dead at last!" said Mrs. Glover. 'Dead at last!" said Mr. Glover. "He always said he should live to kbe ninety," sighed the old lady. "And missed it by just six months," observed her husband sagely. "Poor old man!" said Mrs. Glover, instinctively, shaking out the folds of a new black-bordered pocket-handkerchief. "We must all die," originally remarked Mr. Glover. 'i/-v But in this decent and seemly regret with which they, as the legatees and last surviving relatives of old Ulric Upshur, spoke of his death, there was no overwhelming sorrow. Why should there ? _ be? A man who lives close on to the edge ; of ninety, and dies leaving a snug little sum over and beyond his funeral exIpenses, may surely be said to have fulfilled his destiny. If he had desired to be sincerely mourned, he should have surrounded himself with family ties. Second-cousins can hardly be expected to weep floods of tears on the coffin of an eccentric old personage, whom they have never seen more than a half a dozen times in their f lives; the Glovers bought themselves proper morning, and straightened their countenances into regulation gravity, when they alluded to the deceased ; but the first thought was one of exultation at the wealth which had now descended to them. "A thousand dollars in good, hard cash," said Mr. Glover. "To be paid over at once," sighed his wife. The Glovers looked radiantly at each aft TKnrr rtauaw V nrl ha vy\ n viuu* x uujr uau ugigi iiau du uiuou money in their possession at any one time since they had got married, twenty good years ago. "My dear," said Mrs. Glovsr, "if ever man deserved it, you do! You have always worked hard and paid your honest debts." "Martha, don't say a word," remarked Mr. Glover, patting his wife's plump shoulder. "?vo man ever had a better wife than you to save and economize, and make every penny go as far as V two." "Of course the money is yours," said Mrs. Glover. "No, Martha, yours," corrected her husband. dui ^ ciiiu uua juui iciation." "The law, my dear, regards husband and wife as one." "But, Silas, you have the best right to it," reasoned Mrs. Glover, tenderly & eager. "Not a particle more than yourself, Martha." Mr. Glover beamed upon his wife. Mrs. Glover looked affectionately at her husband. Surely this golden shower of wealth was bringing their courting days I?*" back again. b m ni it 11 j V i* air. Clover inougnt xo nimseu tnat Martha was really prettier than ever. Mrs. Glover thought that her husband never had been so noble and Jove-like. It was all nonsense about money being the root of all evil. One never could put any dependance on the3e old provC erbs. "Silas," said Mrs. Glover, -''I'll tell you -what we will do with the thousand dollars. We'll put a wing on the south end of the house. "A -wincr?" reoeated Mr. Glover. "Mv dear, -what a preposterous ideal" ' I don't see anything very preposterous abo it it." said Mrs. Glover, reddening a little. "We have always wanted more room." "If we're going to squander it in building?" began her husband, with some acerbity. "Squander it, indeed!" exclaimed the indignant Martha. "Pray be so good as not to interrupt me, my dear, said her husband. " If, I say, it is to be expended in building?" "That's more like it!" said Martha, with a toss of her head. , r "It had a great deal better," pursued Mr. Glover, "be put into a substantial new barn. Ours has been unfit for use these five years." "We don't need a bam," impatiently interrupted Mrs. Glover. ."As long as the horses and cows have a shelter over their heads, it is all that they require. ^ And our barn is as cood as anvbodv else's barn!" I am perhaps the best judge of that, Mrs. Glover!" said her husband. "I've been wanting a little more elbow room for a long time," observed Mrs. Glover. "Our best room is perfectly disgraceful, with those big beams in the corners and a tucked-up little woodon mantle with a cupboard over it 1" "Some people are never satisfied with anything," said Mr. Glover, drumming his finger cn.ls on tae table. "Pi,...j. ninV nrwtti'w?i> wntinn in fill* place that wo' IJ p t up with surh a parlor!" said Mrs. Glover, just ready to cry. "Well, you may as well make up your mind to be satisfied with it," announced Mr. Glover. ^ "I'd like to know why!" flashed his wife. "Because it's the best you're likely to get." "Indeed!" said Mrs. Glover. "That money is going to be spent ? sensibly spent," said Mr. Glover, nod& iyr V> ding his head to keep time to his senten ? ces, "upon a new barn." "No, it isn't!" cried the lady. "Why isn't it?" said the gentleman. "Because I'm going to have a soutl wing built out!" averred Mrs. Glover. "No, you're not!" said Mr. Glover. ""We'll see about that!" shrieked Mrs Glover. "We will see!"' said Mr. Glover. "Le gaily, Mrs. Glover, you've no right t1 one cent of that money of Uncle U1 ric's!" "Fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Glover "Wasn't Uncle Upshur my relation?" "And aren't you my wife?" "To my sorrow, I am!" said Mrs. Glo vcr, preparing to use her pocket hand kerchief. "But that fact don't author ize you in robbing me of what is right ftillv rav own." "Woman," sputtered Mr. Glover "what do you mean?" "Exactly what I say!" retorted hi wife. "I mean to be master in my owi house!" said Mr. Glover, hastily. "You can do as you please abou that," said Mrs. Glover; "but it's i house I shan't stay in if I'm to betreatec like a mere cipher. I'll leave you, Silai Glover?yes, I'll leave you?and all th< neighborhood shall ring with your tyr anny and meanuess!" "You're a vixen!" said Glover. "You are a brute!" said Mrs. Glover "Will you hold your tongue?" said he "There isn't the power on earth tha' can silencc me!" protested she. I leav< you' Silas Glover!" "The sooner the better." said Mr. Glo ver. "if you are going to turn into suci an outragious shrew as this!" But just as their voices raised to ai unwonted pitch, were striving for prece dence, the sound of prodigious and long continued knocking at the front door serred, momentarily at least, to caln the tempest. The wordy combatants eyed eacl other comprehensively. "Woman," hissed Silas Glover, "yoi have disgraced me?" "If there's any disgrace in the matter,' retorted Martha, "it don't lie at nn door !*' At that moment in walked Nehemial Nixon, the village attornev and counselor at-law, a stout, short man, with a bald head and a iittle stumpy growth of whiti beard under his chin. 'Bless my soul," said Mr. Nixon "what a noise you're making, good people!" Mr. Grover invited the newcomer t< take a chair. Mrs. Glover began to poke the fire. Evidently the embers of theii wrath yet smouldered, ready to blaze uj again the moment the temporan pressure of conventionality should be removed. "Well/' said the lawyer, "I've brought you a piece of news." "Eh?" said Mr. Glover. "Unpleasant news," added Mr. Nixon, "Or at least I suppose you all regard i! in that light. It seems?ahem!?thai that vagrant son of old Sir. Upshur, whe was reported to have died in Manitobc didn't die at all, but ia alive and flourirrifVi o mife an:1 fwn rhildrcn " ""What!" cried Mr. and Mrs. Glover, in a duet of dismayed voices." "And," added Mr. Nixon, intheindif ferent way of one to whom the subjecl does not matter personally in the least, "they aro coming on at once to take possession of all that the old man left, Upon the whole, I am not surprised, The Upshurs always were peculiar. ] am told that bid Ulric and his son hadn'i spoken to each other for ten years. And when the report of his death was bruitec about, old Upshur didn't take the slight est pains to ascertain whether it wa: true or fa'se." Fortunately for the peace of the Glovei family, Mr. "Nixon did not stay long, But when the big front door closed be hind him, Silas and Martha looked al each other. "Martha," said the husband, who wa; the first to break the unpleasant silence) - "* - * j* i t "1 am glad or it?giaa irom tne very doi torn of my heart!" Mrs. Glover burst into tears. "So am I, Silas!" sobbed she. "Be cause?because we were nearer quarrel ing with each other than we ever havt been in all our wedded life." "I don't care one straw about the new barn," magnanimously declared Mr. Glover. "And I don't need the south wing," cried Martha. "We are very comfortable just as we are." "I can patch up the old roof, and pui a few boards on the end," said Mr. Glover. "I was always a good hand at carpentering!" "And what was good enough for your mother is good enough for me," said Mrs. Glover. "As long as we're both spared to each other, I don't care if we live in a wood-shed." "I was a villain to speak as I did to you!" cried the conscience-stricken Silas. "It was all my fault, Silas," said Mrs. Glover. "It was I that provoked you.' And the middle, aged couple kissed each other as tenderly as if their honeyI m/v/vn WAKa Trn f cViim'nrr in tVin clr tr and iUUUil TTUO J V> u QUIUIU^ 4U ?uu WU.J, WU.V4 the first aad last cloud that had ev?r darkened their horizon -went down in mutual smiles.?Ruth Ransom. Gray Hairs. The fact that some persons bogin tc show gray hairs while in their twenties doos not indicate a premature decay oi the constitution. It is purely a local phenomenon, and often co-exists with great physical vi?or. A mrdical journal says, "Many feeble persons, and others who have suffered extremely,bott mpntallr and nhvsipRlIv. do not, hlanr.h s hair until past middle life; while others without assignable cause, lose theii capillary coloring-matter rapidly aboul forty years of age. "Race has a marked influence. The traveler Dr. Orbigny says that in many years he spent in South America he never saw a bald Indian, and scarcely ever a gray-headed one. The negroes turn more slowly than the whites. 4kIn this country sex appears to make little difference. Men and women grow gray about the same period of life. Ic men the hair and beard rarely change equally. The one is usually darker thar the' other for several years, but there seems no genoral rule as to which whit ens the first. "The spot where gravness begins differs with the individual. The "philoso pher Schopenhauer began to turn graj _ At- A J ^ i.1^* : on tae lempies, ana compiacentiy iramet a theory that thi3 indicates vigorous men tal activity. "The correlation of gray hair, as wel ns i a oauMe*, deserve more attentiv* J study < h i i tfcoy have received. Such ? ili.nge is undoubtedly indicative o some deep-seated physiological process but what this is we can only ascertaii after more extensive observations thai have yet been submitted to science." The one gift to give to your childrer is the power of self-control. Give their the habit of it, and the knowledge tc know when they should talce themselve: in hand. That is worth a fortune in it self to every one. -[ FOR FEMININE READERS. In an Album, j The wife of General Winfield Scott once wrote the following verses in an album: "Women have many faults; Men have only two; There is nothing right they say And nothing that they do! 3 "But if naughty men do nothing right, And never say what's true, What precious fools we women aro To love them as we do!" Ifair Jewelry Reviving-. A few years ago the custom of weav ing in some form a lock of hair from the head of departed friends was quite fash ionable. The style changed, however, and the hair jewelry makers nearly be, came bankrupt. Within the last year the fashion has revived, and now rings, b brooches, pins and all sorts of jewelry are made from human hair. There are J several "artists in hair" in Philadelphia, but one man is the master. His process 1 of working the hair is a secret, and he 8 not only makes jewelry, but landscape 3 and figure pieces fashioned so skillfully 3 that they look like etchings or paint2 ings. Flower groups, composed of rose buds, lilies, pansies and daisies are fashioned cleverly, nature being copied in form and color almost perfectly, the > different tints and colors being produced by the use of different shades of hair. Feminine Fortunes* Elizabeth Garrett of Baltimore has a fortune of at least $12,000,000. The three daughters of Mr. Banker Drexel of Philadelphia are set down for $0,000,000 each. Mrs. A. T. Stewart is credited with a fortune of $30,000,000. Miss Sarah Hitchcock of New York is set down as worth $12,000,000. Mrs. Morgan, widow of the ex-governor and Senator, can draw her check for from $10,000,000 to $12,000,000. Miss Carolina Wolfe has an income of $500,000, and real estate constantly rising in value. Mrs."Whitelaw Reid reads her title to several millions in her own right. Miss Elle n Eben, of Philadelphia,is both handsome and rich. She turns the scale at a mil1 lion or more. Mrs. Paran Stevens wos ' left a fortune of $6,000,000. MiBS St. ^ Pierre of Tennessee, who is a Diana in " the chase and a philanthropist in her plans, has real estate, iron foundries and > coal mines valued at over $2,000,000. Mrs. Mark Hopkins, who lives at Great Barrington, Mass., and left Cali} fornia out of fear of Denis * Kearney and his followers, has at least r $30,000,000to manage. She makes good 3 interest on shrewd investments and care[ ful management. Mrs. John Minturn, a 1 New York widow, is credited with several millions. John Hay's wife is worth ' a cool million. So is Congressman Hitt's. Congressman Bayne married a wife worth several millions. Mrs. Josephine ' Ayera, of Lowell, is worth $5,000,000. I Mrs. Meyers, widow of General Albert ' Meyers, organizer of the signal service, ) is credited with a fortune of $1,000,000. 1 The general was a physician in moderate practice at Buffalo when the war began. He never held any but salaried military ' positions thereafter. Mrs. Craig Wadsworth, who now resides in Washington, " could meet demands of over $1,500,000 in amount. Mrs. Fair, formerly wife of ' the Nevada Senator, has about $4,000,000 to her credit. Mrs. Tabor, the first ' wife of Colorado's millionaire, has prcb' ably more money at command now than Vi??r former hnqhand. Shfi ia set down ? for $2,000,000. Mrs. Dahlgren, widow of the admiral,is credited with property rising steadily in value and approaching the million. Mrs. Scott, the widow of 3 the railroad manager, is credited with $3,000,000. Senator Ilale's wife has an : estate of over $1,000,000 in value. The Montenegrin Women. We copy the following from Edward King's new book, "Europe in Storm and 3 Calm." 1 The Montenegrin woman is, in many respects, an object of pity to the travelers who pass through the strange little principality; but there is no woman in the country who would not be grievously | offended at any show of sympathy. To ' work incessantly and to suffer is the k destiny of the women of this race. They ' are not even welcomed into the world; a ' Montenegrin fathe;, when asked by his , neighbor what the sex of his new-born child is, answers, ''God pardon mel it is a girl;" sometimes he says, "It is a serpent," which is a poetical manner of expressing ms regret at toe Dirin 01 a daughter. The girl grows up neglected and often cursed; she carries faggots of wood on her head, in order that she may earn a few coins with which to buy arms for her brothers. She has no youth; at twenty-five she 1 seems already old. She is married young, and bears and cares for her children while supporting labor in the field which would be hard even for men. She trembles before her father, her brother, hei husband; she only awakens to freedom and independance of action wheu excited by the noise of the combat, to which she frequently follows the warriors. She urges them on, and loads 1 their guns, and dresses their wounds. The Montenegrin woman is rarely beautiful of feature, and the coarse work which ahe performs soon ruins ber form. Ker virtue is beyend reproach; iatrig ?<: are unknown in ?.T.:iitenegro, Anu g.l. laotry would find a sharp reproof at tlie nnint-. nf ft vatanrhan. The women ^ x ? _ J --?0 wander unattended wherever they plcaso | throughout the country; for while a Mon^ tenegrin warrior vou!-1 never think of rs lieviug a women from the heavy burden ^ of faggots or provisions which she may | be fainting under, and while he may, . perhaps, rail at her for her weakness, he would not by word or deed offer her the slightest insult. t The woman is almost servile with regard to her husband; if she sees him , coming along the road, she turns off, or \ passes him rapidly, that he may not be ^ compelled to recognize her. Should the warrior be seen wasting his time in ( loitering by Via wife's side, h- be p subjected to reproach from the elders in the village. A few years since one could , not have found in tho whole of Montei negro one woman knowing how to read , or write; latterly some few schools, to ' which women have access, have been established. The duties of hospitality all fall upor the woman. It is she who unlaces the " boots of the stranger when lie arrives, and who washes his feet, whe serves at the table, and holds the flaming pine knot by which the others j see to eat. The husband does not even , notice his wife, unless it be to request [ some menial service of lier. it is s f wonder Montenegrin babies ever live through the severe course of swaddling | which they undergo from their earliest l day until they are weaned. They are strapped to boards and Blung over the backs of their mothers, and thus, wintei and summer, they make long journeys ir i the mountains and among the rocks. l When the husband falls ill it is nol > the wife who cares for him, but his par j cnts. Etiquette demands that the wife should appear indifferent to his condition and should attend to her duties ic house and field as if he were in no danger. But -when he dies she is expected to burst in loud lamentation, and in all the country round sing the praise3 of his courage and his prowess in front of the enemy. This overworked and much-abused creature has one gracious accomplish ment. the Montenegrin woman is exceedingly expert in embroideries, and they are a prominent feature ot the national costume. The women work at them when they are walking along the roads bearing upon their heads burdens which seem heavy enough to crush a pack horse. Fashion Notes. Astrachan is again a favorite trim JUXUg. Wool ball. fringe is used on cloth mantles. Corduroy jackets arc much worn by young girls. Colored Spanish lace is worn on woolen costumes in Paris and London. Pelerines, or capes of small size, but with long tab-like ends,are found among wraps. Very large caleche-like bonnets and very small ones are both fashionably worn in Paris. White batiste collars, hemstitched, are 1 allowed after the first three months of deep mourning. Velveteen skirts are worn with wool overdresses and basques, and velvet skirts with silk dresse3. ' Turkish beads of greenish gold color i are used for embroidery on black and dark green laces or lace nets. Woolen dress fabrics embroidered with j tinsel and with frise palm leaves, and also with silk cord, are novelties. Spanish girdles of iridescent beads Is another of the pretty ornaments for black house dresses or dinner costumes. Sealskin borders are much used upon the new tailor suits of dark green and golden brown cheviots for winter wear. Bands of velvet styled armlets are worn outside of the sleeves, near the top, and fastened with an ornamental clasp. Waistcoats of velvet are a feature on jersey jackets, and when seen are invariably accompanied by velvet collars and cuffs. Dressy slippers of black and bronze kid are made to wear with black silk stockings, and have jetted medallions for ornaments. Tailor-made cloth redingotes have double-breasted fronts and deep cuffs and standing collars of fur or elaborately braided collars and cuffs. The new evening dresses are many of them made of faille Francaise and trimmed with a profusion of lace, crystal, pearl or iridescent beads. New costumes are for the most part made in combination of two or more fabrics, as a frise strip with plain goods or a striped plush with plain plush. Immense vases filled with bouquets of flowering shrubs, such as laburnums, cherry blossoms, mauve and white lilacs, are to adorn drawing room corners. The season has developed annng others, these new combination of colors: Minerva blue and tobacco brown;* violet and gray or tilleul, and ecru and plum. Ribbons of fanciful weaves and designs are used to excess as dress trimmings, not only as bows, loops, and f ots, but laid flat like galloon or wide braid. Silk and woolen jersey stockinet hats are novelties. They are made over a felt shape, but being much dearer than felt and not "dressy," they will probably not be very popular. For mourning, in all silk fabrics, the preference is given to the silk-warp crepe cloth, armure, Panama and Radimar silks, all of which, when trimmed with crepe, are appropriately worn in deep as well as second mourning. Feathers constitute the preferred trimi miog in millinery and the consequence is a superabundance of all sorts of fancy plumage, as well as birds and birds' i heads and wings. There is also a reyii val of ostrich tips and plumes. As a novelty in cheap laces is a pretty variety for garnishing simple home toil1 ets. It is a soft, creamy shade, and has a cotton net foundation exactly similar to the foundation of the oriental laccs. The threads, however, are of wool or yak, and lend a weight and richness which cotton never gives. This lace is said to laundry remarkably well. Josh Billings, Tribute to Artemus Ward. , Deth hez done a cruel thing lately. Dcth seldom iz imparshall; this iz all that ken be said in hi3 favor. He moves his sithe awl round the world, now in this field, now in that; wheat, flowers, . and weeds drop, wilt and wither, for he sythes early and late, in citi and town, by the harthstun and away oph where the wanderers aro. Deth hez done a cruel thing lately. , Deth is seldom kind. Here a father, a mother, a wee small thing but a month on a visit; there Mary and Uharley go down in white clothes. Deth mowe3; menny fields are all bare, for deth cuts i i cluss as well "<? cruel. J)et.: luvs to mow; tis his stiie. He iz old aucl slick with his sickle; he mowed for Able uv old and for Able uv yesterday. Deth mows strangely, and round fall the dainyand arrase. and r'onn :nar!ing, stands the kourse thistle, left for what ? Deth kan't tell, for God only knows. Deth, you have done a cruel thing late, ly; you have mowed where the wittiest , one of all stood, whose words have gone laffing awl over the world, whose heart waz az good and az soft az a mother's. Deth, you have mowed where my . friend Artemus stood, and humor wears , mourning now for the child of her heart. I am sad, and I am sorry. | An IntH.tn Eve Doctor. i The itinerant eye doctor of India per. forms his operations with a confident ce lerity which the more civilized oculist would call recklessness. As he enters a ? town he bawls, "Do you want back your l sight??one rupee only." When a customer appears he takes ?ut his penknife i and performs the operation while standi ing in the open square. Then he binds i up the wound, tells his patient to keep ? in the dark for a fortuight, and pockets s his rupee. A writer iu Chambers' Jouri iial, who describes this proceeding, says > : tf in ulmngfc nlwftva successful: one ; of his own servants, a woman of eighty, l was in this way successfully operated ! upon for cataract. ; The certainty that life cannot be long, ' and the probability that it will be much shorter than nature allows, ought to awaken every man to the active prosecui tion of whatever he is desirous to perform. It is true that death may intor; cept the swiftest career; but he who is cut off in the midst of an honest underi taking has at least the honor of falling in his lank, and has fought the battle, i though he missed victory. ' " ' - r> 7 v .? l-* yS ' r. A DESPERADO'S CAREER. A Man Who Shot Ten Men In Ten Minutes Single Handed. Ail eastern journal recently published an account of the shooting of eight Texans by Matt Riley in Kansas some years ago. The article concluded with the statement that Riley, some years after the tragedy described, was attacked with paralysis, and died in the eastern States. Riley did not die in the east, but, on the contrary, is alive and a resident of San Francisco, where he has lived the n-reatest nortion of the time -? o" r~ -- since his celebrated adventures in Kansas caused a sensation throughout the southwest. At that time the sparse population and peculiar conditions of life in Kansas offered great inducements to a desperate man, and Riley made the great State his abode. .He filled several jjositions?was sheriff of Ellsworth, and was deputy marshal at Newton at the time of the sensational adventure with the Taxans. McClusky, the marshal of the town, was Riley's partner. Riley had formed McClusky's acquaintance at Laramie, where he met him in company with some of the most desperate characters that ever infested the West. Subsequently McClusky and Riley met on the Atchinson and Topeka road, and they became partners in the nrfl.qervfttinn of the nlace. and the pro I " ?r ? * prietor3 of a hurdy-gurdy and gambling house at Newton. On the day of McClusky's death Riley had been out hunting a horse thief, and got back in the afternoon. While standing outside the dance house talking to some one he noticed that the place was doing a lively trade. McClusky was sitting on a chair with his back to the wall looking at the proceedings, when of a sudden a party of Texans who had planned to kill him sprang forward from the crowd and began to shoot at him. McClusky had killed one of their men some time before, but was wholly unsuspicious of an attack, and he was riddled with bullets before he could draw his pistol. The desperate character of the man asserted itself in the death arronv. and his last movement was to cock bis pistol and point it at his assailants. He had not strength to press the trigger, however, and fell on his lace dead. At the first report of the Texnns' pistols, Riley started for the dance house. His quick eye took in the tragic situation of his partner at a glance, and in an instant he had seized the nearest Texan by the neck, and, holding him up before him as a living target, opened a fusillade on the assassins. When the firing ceased there were nine men lying on the floor dead and wounded. When Riley loosened the grasp of his herculean arm from the neck of his human shield tho tenth victim of the terrible encounter dropped lifeless to the boards. He had been dead before the encounter had well begun, but if he had not succumbed to the pistols of his comrades there was a cartridge left in Riley's third pistol at his service. Eight of the dead and wounded men were of the party of Texans who had murdered McClusky. The other two men who had been killed in the affrav were railroad hands and onlookers at the tragedy. It spoke volumes for the closeness of the shooting that only two bullets had flown so wido of the intended mark as to bring down innocent victims in the crowded dance hall. Riley remained in Newton three days after the sensational affray, and then found it expedient to leave for parts unknown. He subsequently figured in several desperate affairs on the line of the Union Pacific railroad and through Colorado, Utah. New Mexico, and Nevada. Orders had been issued on the Union Pacific raitrnnH fn iillnw no mnnte cramblers to ride on the trains, and in obedience to this command Capta:n Payne of the Omaha depot police tried to eject Riley and his partner, Sullivan, while traveling from Council Bluffs to Omaha. He put off Sullivan, but Riley refused to leave the train, and in the struggle which ensued the captain was knocked senseless by a blow from the desperado's pistol. After this the trains of the Union Pacific were uncomfortable for Riley, and he moved his headquarters. His partner, Sullivan, like almost every partner he ever had, met a tragic death, another gambler, named Duval, shooting him in Chicago, After parting with Sullivan. Riley formed a partnership with the notorious Jack Wiggins, and opened a large saloon in Salt Lake City. On the opening night a Morman known a9 Dutch John, who figured as a destroying angel, entered the saloon and intimated to Wiggins that no Gentile would be allowed to run such an establishment in the city. Some hot words following, the destroying angel seized a bottle and hurled it through the large mirror be hind the bar, shivering the glass into fragments. Wiggins had bis pistol out almost before the destroying angel swung the bottle, and the crash of glass was drowned in the report of a shot that sent Dutch John to eternity. For the mauspious incident of the opening night Wiggins was arrested and sentenced to death. With that lofty consideration which distinguished Mormon justice, Wiggins was given the choice of death by hanging or shooting. He choose the rope, although exhorted by his rough friends to select the bullet as the most expedient and respectable a<?ent of extinction. When r.-:asoi!P.d with by Riley, he stated I that he preferred to be hanged, "for," said He, "I've seen many a gooa man shot, and I want to see one hanged." A few days before the day of execution Riley managed to securo an opportuuifcy i'or Wiggins to break jail, which that worthy improved with alarcritv. The fugtive was concealed for eight days in the cellar under the Walker house. Riley had sold his saloon and spent all his money to secure the escape of Wiggins. He had hired a notorious character named Bill Bean to take the fugitive to Evanston, Wy. T., on horseback, as from that point he could get East in safety. On the night that Bean was to have taken Wiggins away the latter asked Riley to give him his pistol, as he had only two of his own, and he wanted another for Bean, whom he exexpected to fight for him if necessary. Riley refused at first, as the pistol was nn old frlnnd. but finallv vielded to Wiggins' importunities and handed him the weapon. The moment Wiggins got the pistol he became almost insane with passion, and, seizing Riley, thrust the muzzle of the cocked revolver down the latter'* throat till it nearly choked him. Before Wiggins could carry out his threat to blow the head off his partner Bean and others interfered, and Riley made his escape. He at once went to his lodgings, and, getting another pistol, rushed back to the cellar, but Wig gins had set out on his journey and a tragedy was averted. It subsequently transpired that Wiggins wa? jealous of Riley, whom he suspected of paying attention to his inamorato while he was hiding from the officers of the law in the cellar. After escaping from Utah Wiggins could not rest. He soon made his whereabouts known by several daring escapades, and was finally arrested and taken back to Salt Lake. He again cscaped, and some years after ho was shot in a row in New Mexico. Riley moved to Nevada ffom Salt Lake City, and figured in that section as a monte gambler and a hard case generally. Hej finally descended on San Francisco, & and, in conjunction with Charles Merion, 61 better known as Boston Charley, a swell b mobsman,now serving a term in an Eastern penitentiary, opened the first bunco (i shop in San Francisco. The establish- tl ment was located at the corner of San- a some and Pine streets, and did a thriving a business, capital being furnished by some tl business men of the city. While in this avocation Riley, alias Foster, fell desper- Q ately in love with a sixteen-year-old girl Q ot Hebrew descent, ana nnally married her, despite the opposition of her par- jt ents, when she was scarcely sixteen years of nge. After this exploit he settled ^ down to the comparatively quiet life of ^ a faro dealer, in which profession he became paralyzed under remarkably strange circumstances. One night when dealing ^ "a flyer" a gambler won eleven straight " bets. Foster, for by that name he was ^ then known, burst into the wildest pro- : fanity and wound up his exhibition of ? anger with the wish that he might be " paralyzed if the man won the next bet. ? The man won, and as the faro box drop- ? ped from the nerveless hand of the b dealer the players looked at him in hor- 8 ror, for he was stricken helpless with ? paralysis of the left side. Some time after the broken-down desperado, no o longer a stalwart specimen of humanity, g but a poor cripple tottering on crutches, ^ was committed to the almshouse by his t wife. It seemed impossible that he could ? ever again return to the world, but the t tremendous vitality of the man brought e him back from the jaws of death, and he ? is again struggling for a living, a cripple, n sustained only by the hope that he may c somehow regain the affections of his s former wife, now separated from him by c divorce and married again.?San Franr a cif.co Call. m x * r ircaiiiucm iui" iijutupnuuia. The following ti an extract from a t letter of M. Louis Pasteur, the eminent French scientist, to Professor Jules ] Marcou: "I take a great deal of pleas- ( ure in the thought that on my return to y Paris I shall present to the Academy of ( Sciences an account of what I believe to f be a very valuable prophylactic treatment { against hydrophobia, applicable after th? | accident both to man and dogs. Do you j not know some feature of this terrible . disease which may be peculiar in Amer- ' ica? Is it of frequent occurrence there? j Remember that I should have the cour- ? age to apply my treatment even on per- | sons who, after being bitten, had made j the journey from America to Paris?al though under these conditions at least two weeks must have elapsed since the accident?so great is my confidence in my method. However, I shall feel more sure of myself when I heve made a large number of trials on man, which I shall do in 1885-6. I have as yet made but one trial?on an Alsatian boy, whose mother brought him to me. He had been bitten horribly, and death by hydrophobia seemed unavoidable. Up to the present time I have exeellent news of his health, although it is sixty-four days since the accident." A Ballet With a Billet, A gentleman with large side whiskers and a physique that showed hard usage stood against a bar on Baltimore street, and, banng his right arm, said to a group of bystanders: "I am the oldest color-bearer of the Confederate army." There was a movement toward him by those who were moistening their tonsils in the vicinity. The speaker pulled up his sleeve ana showed a scarred and streaked tattooing of the stars and bars on his right forearm in vermillion and India ink. "This was the darting shot," he s*id. exhibiting a scar where a minnie-ball had cut through the tattoo marks and disarranged the colors of the flag. "We surrendered just after I got it. I was color bearer for the Twelfth Virginia, of Petersburg. This wound I got in the last charge. As soon as I felt my arm drop and saw the wound I knew the war was over. Been shot again and again, , but never in the arm before, although I ( caught it in every other part of my body. I saw that the lead had torn through my ] arm where the cross bars on the flag j were marked, and then I gave up. It , was my last battle in the trenches."? j Baltimore Times. , Wonderful Wheat From Pnsret Sonnd. J Mr. Olive Counter, who resides on the f northeast quarter of section 32, township 21 north, range 4 east, about five miles from this city, brought in some samples of seven-headed wheat raised this year on his creek bottom clay loam land. The stalks are the products of two kernels, and are six feet high from the root to the top head. The beads are very peculiar, resembling a pine cone, being thick and clumpy. One of the heads of average size was shelled out, and the grains counted from the one head were 161. According to this the one kernel of wheat yielded 966 plump, fat wheat grains, or nearly one thousand fold. The yield per acre to Mr. Counter of this wheat was eightyfire bushels. On the same kind of soil he has raised red-top clover this year six feet in height. Those who are acquainted with good milling wheat say tLat this will malco a Xo. 1 quality of | flour. One of the heads, which was j weighed, tipped the scales at over half an ounce. ? Tactma (If. T.) Neics. Tapestry Weaving. Tapestry weaving was one of the distinctive arts of Florence at that time, ' ' ? e J C J f wncn tllC Dusy Juugers uuu. reaucu tavro of her citizens evolved artistic forms out f of every material they touched, be it marble or canvas, stone or silk, wood 01 precious stones. Like most of the arts of the Renaisance, this was also brought from the East at the time of the crusades, took root in France and Germany and reached its culmination in Italy, The story may be briefly traced in its successive numes, Saraginois, Arras and Tapestry. The earlier English and 2 French tapestries, such as the velis de- J pictis of Dagobert in the church of St. : Denis in the sixth century, the Auxerre t embroidered hangings in 840 and the 3 Bayeux tapestry of Matilda do not ente: ? into the history, as they were not woven C but worked with a needle, as were also o the Byzantine ones. The Flemish factories began in the'twelfth century, and those of Arras in Picardy flourished in the fourteenth centurv.?Art Journal. 3 il A Dolorons Lay. 3 ?When you nre younsr, how well you know :: A litt:o monoy in/ikes rro.it show. J .lint ttf-y cow's w.ll caa o you l?I sj, ; T.s Ihoa a dollar looks like t lis. A o Byt when you're old, and bills come due, [) And creditors are dunning you, 3 And every cent you spend, you miss, ? 'Tis then a dollar looks like this. 0 $ a ?QoodalVs Sun. t / - ' FOPBLAR SCIENCE. j The seed vessels of ths bird-catching1 ree of New Zealand secrete a veryj ticky gum, in which not merely insects,' ut birds are entangled and perish. In Southern Russia vineyards are freed: rom phylloxera by planting hemp near; tie infected vines. The parasites ara H-rantarl f/\ < Vio liomn hvita ofrnnor ftdnp. nd the roots prove to be poisonous to iiem. Professor A. Landmark, chief director f the Norwegian fisheries, finds that nder favorable condition? a salmon may ometimes jump sixteen feet perpendicuirly, and that when the fish's leap is ft' sot or two short of the height of the raterfall it often succeeds in completing lie ascent by a dextrous use of ,the taiL The strongest wood in the United J . Itates, according to Professor Sargent, i that of the nutmeg hickory of the Lrkansas region, and the weakest the Vest Indian birch. The most elastic is he tamarack, the white at shellbark ickory standing far below it. The least' lastic and the lowest in specific gravity i the wood of the Ficus" aurea. The lighest specific gravity, upon which ia ~ eneral depends value as fuel,is attained ?y the bluewood of Texas. Water does not boil until the tension f the vapor formed by heating it^i? greater than the atmosphere's pressure. Lt the sea level, where the pressure of he atmosphere is about fifteen pounds ter square inch, the water must be heated o 212 degrees before its vapor has sufiicint tension to overcome this pressure. Lt Argcnta, Montana, where it is so auc'n above the sea, having a much less. lepth of atmosphere, the pressure is nofc o many pounds and the boiling point is orrespondingly lower. Water boils at bout 200 degrees there. The dunes of Gascony, according to a ecent report by the inspector of French mblic works, cover a surface of more han 200,000 acres, and are more thaa 550 feet high and three or four miles wide, rhe fine sand composing them w?s > ormerly pushed constantly inland by the vind, covering fields and villages, and ?vgu uuij-ujg vuuitiicoup iu uicu wn vj.b? v. ; Since 1760 the difficult task of fixing the land hills by creating a growlh of vege- - ' ation on them has been in progress, and las at length resulted in averting a great Dublic danger and forming a fine forest.; the formation of new dunes is prevented >y the building of a wooden palisade, igainst which tho sea raises so steep a ?ank that no sand can be blown ovei- the; ncline. A-chemical examination of water wrought up from great depths in the Mediterranean proves, as suspected, that ;he deep sea water is more salt than that it the surface, though nothing can be. !ound to show the existence of .a bed of salt at the bottom to produce such extra saturation; in fact strata of water of less lensity are met with below those of, greater density. Thus it appears that :he outer current in large part carries with it the excess of salt produced by the!, surface evaporation, the cause of the cirjulation being due, it is believed, to hy- ; , , Prostatic action purely. That is, the' svater of the Mediterranean is continuxlly losing by evaporation a larger amount' than is returned to it by rams or rivers,1 ind, consequently, the inllow from the Atlantic must take place to keep up this level. If this inflow consisted of fresh' > tvater the total quantity of salt in the Mediterranean would remain the same,; ind the density, therefore, would undergo no increase; but, as the upper currento^ salt water brings in a certain quantity of salt in addition to that which the Medi-* terranean basin previously contained,' the density of this water is increased, and i column of it reaching to any given lepth becoms heavier than a correspondng column of Atlantic water, the excess jf downward pressure consequently disDlacing the lower portion of the column )f water, which will flow outward as an inder current. . ====== I' Ho vr * Deer Met Its Death. A recent letter to the New York Tirrui jives the following account ofan ?xtra> Vinnf- in Pflnnar]ranio i /1U11IUIJ V4VV4 UU44W AM J. VUUMJIIIfMiW J 8. D. Van Akin, telegraph operator at Lackawaxen, is a great deer hunter. Ai 'ew days ago he went into the woods a' nile west of the station to hunt for a' arge buck that had been seen in that ' ricinity. While he was driving the idge with his dog an enormous five* jrong buck camo out of the woods on he other side of the valley, dashed icross the Delaware and Hudson Canal,' hrough a field, across the Lackawaxen iver at a deep place called the Whirl?j )ool, and, climbing the railroad bank,! :rossed the track and entered the woods ? vhere Van Akin was hunting. Before t came within his range the buck got vind of the hunter and his dog, and >ounded back out of the woods to the ailroad track. At that moment a coal rain, on its way east, was approaching he spot, and the deer sprang out only a faat oTionri r?f frhp lnrnmnfivn Thfl >uck kept to the track, arid ran on toward Lackawaxen. The locomotive vas immediately detached from the train, ind, putting it at the top of its peed, the engineer and fireman gave :nase to the deer. In spite of the great peed the magnificent leaps of the buck cept him in the lead. The locomotive vhistlc was sourded and the exciting ihase kept up for a mile, when the dees >ouoded into the village of Lackawaxen,1 ind found itself in the midst of railroad racks, canalboats, quarrymeu, and^pasang care. The whistliug of the locomoivc had attracted tne attention of the mtire place, and when the deer came lashing furiously down the track, hotly mrsued by the locomotive, scores of nen, women, and children were out to ee the sight. The buck left the track ,nd sprang into the canal. Instantly he vas surrounded by a yelling and excited nob. They pelted the poor animal with tones and pounded him with clubs from ?ne side of the canal to the other until inally he was forced to give up, and he vas finished by a big quarrvman with a lub. Every resident of the village 1nim*?d a share of the venison, and the arcass of the buck was divided up so hat every family had a piece. The maglificent head and antlers were secured by Captain Buck, of the New York hotel at iackawaxen, who will have them aounted. Iceberg Echoes. It is asserted in Science that cxperiaents indicate the possibility of obtain* og an echo from an iceberg when in langerous proximity to a ship. It is be? , ievei that even an object offering so in;ill a surf ceas a floatin/j wreck may in h s way he detected during a fog in iine to prevent a collision. Expedients ie:ently made have demonstrated he feasibility of producing well-marked' choes from sailing vessels and from teamboats considerable distances away, "he apparatus employed consists of a ausket, to the muzzle of which a speak-, og trumpet had been attached. This ;un was aimed at passing vessels, while 'lank-cartridges were tired. After a Dnger or shorter time, according to the distance of the vessel, an echo was re? urned.