The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, June 01, 1887, Image 6
the three rulers.
I saw a Ruler take his stand,
And trample on a mighty land.
The People crouched before his beck
His iron heel was on their neck;
His name shone bright throtigh blood and pain,
His sword flashed back their praise again.
I saw another Ruler rise,
His words wore noble, good, and wise;
With the calm sceptre of his pen
He ruled the minds and thoughts of men.
Some scoffed,some praised; while many heard,
Onlj- a few obeyed his word.
Another Ruler then I saw,
Love and sweet Pity were his law;
The greatest and the least had part
(Yet most the unhappy) in his heart.
The People, in a mighty band,
Rose up, and drove him from the land.
?Adelaide Proctor.
THE NEW*SCHOLAR.
"A cow-boy, Mr. Dean!"
"A genuine cow-boy, Miss Allen."
The teacher frowned, and the superintendent
smiled; then she broke into a
suppressed laugh, and he looked perplexed.
"Why did you bring him to me? What
in the world shall I do with him?"
"What shall I do with him?" asked the
tall gentleman, helplessly. '"He is within
the school age?nineteen, he says."
ne looKs otiier.
"Yes; you must allow for sun and wind i
and rough living. He inteuds to live a
year in this to'.vu, and he wants to go to i
school. I must put him somewhere. I!
can't buy a cage l'or him, and label him
'Specimen from the Wild West.'"
"I should almost think you might.
What is the native locality of the 'specimen'?''
"He says," replied Mr. Dean, deliberately,
"that his last rauge was between :
Crazy-Woman Creek and Bad-Water {
Slough."'
"Oh dear! But how and why and j
when did he get into civilization?"
"I have no idea.''
"He is so large and so old for a primary ,
school if"
"He is very ignorant. He cannot possibly
do the work of a higher grade. I
brought him to you because he needs a
very good teacher.
Miss Allen was really troubled. The
Superintendent's little compliment failed
to clear away the clouds. They had
been talking in low tones, as they paced j
the hall, and now they paused at the j
open school-room door.
It was a very pretty school-room. There j
were pictures on the walls, flowers in the j
windows, vases and an embroidered table-1
spread on the teacher's desk. The chil- j
dren were neat and clean. There was an
atmosphere of order aud of dainty tidiness
about the place, and the place suited
well with the young and pretty teacher.
Hut tins morning, looming up benind !
the rows of little girls in trim black !
stockings and short frocks; behind the I
little boys in scarlet hose and knicker-l
bockcr?hopelessly big, untrained and I
out of place, sat the new scholar.
In his way. he was neither ugly nor; ,
awkward. He wore a flannel shirt with I
a red silk neck handkerchief, and he j 1
held in his hand his huge light sombrero,
ornamented with a wide band of red ! 1
leather, and with a gilt cord; but the!
rest of his dress was subdued to the ; i
standard 01 Eastern eivilization. His:;
complexion showed tha: clear, bright red j'
which marks the pure sunshine of the j 1
great plains. This, aud his light hair , <
and keen blue eyes, broad shoulders, and j i
lean, muscular fiame, would have mado j
him an exceedingly picturesque "subject" j;
for au artist; but?in a primary school! ! ]
"I am positively afraid of him!" said j j
Miss Allen. "What if he should take it j i
into his head to scalp us all!" | <
"Send for me at the first flourish of
the tomahawk," said Mr. Dean, with a*(
laugh.
"But, honestly, I have no doubt that <
he carrics pistols. Cowboys always do, j
they say."
"I believe so. I will look into that j <
matter. Now, seriously," and hi3 face
became grave, "I know what a hard j
thing I have given you to do, but it is in :
the line of plain duty to do it well. This j
young man may be here to make trouble.
In that case we shall very soon kuow it, j
-1 t ; it .i t.! L.11 1__ !
aua 1 promise you uuu iiis curccr suau i;c j ,
- ihort. Put it is possible that he comes to I
stmlyand because he would like to make | <
something of himself. If he wants a i
chance, it is our business, as public j
school teachers, to see that he has it."
"He shall have his chance, if I can
help him," said the teacher, earnestly. j
"I am sure of that. And now for the i
pistol. James! James Ferguson! Come,
here, please. Have you firearms about j
you?" he asked, abruptly, thinking to \
take the boy by surprise, and so get at 1
the truth. 11
Jim, who had a tolerably keeu sense of! ]
the fitness of things, had no more idea of I |
taking his pistol to'school than he had of (
presenting himself with spurs, "cuirtand j (
shapps."
But every cow-boy feels himself in i
duty bound to make an impression on a I
"tenderfoot" whenever the ''tenderfoot" ! ]
shows himself ready to be impressed. ! l
Jim's blue eyes twinkled, but he gravely i i
felt in his pockets. ! ;
"Thunder !" said he. "Taint here. I (
roust have been rattled this mornin'. I1
can rustle around and got it fer you, and ,
be back before general round u;>." j
"2ho ! no !" cried the good gentleman,
and explained what Jiui knew perfectly i i
well before, that the pistol must not and j
could not come back to school. He felt
that he had in some way blundered with
the boy, but he did not know how.
"What do you think of the school ?" j
he asked, kindly laying one hand on the 1
boy's shoulders.
"Pretty slick little outfit !" replied
Jim.
"Hem ! Well, James, I hope you will I
do well. I shall advance you as soon as j
you can Uo tne worK 01 a nigner gruue. |
As Mr. Dean and Jim stood together, i
it -was evident that the cow-boy was not!
very tall. But there was a breeziness, J
an out-of-door roominess, that would j
have made him too large for any space j
insids of four walls.
It was not lonpr before Miss Allen knew |
from Jim himself why he was there. She [
was told how Jim's father had left the
.State when Jim wan only a yearling, and j
how he was a white kind of a man, but i
couldn't seem to gather on to anything. I
And lipt. Jim's mother had died, and :
then his father, and left him t<> rustle for!
himself. And he had done ii, too. until
now. Hut an uncle down Kast had just '
looked him up, and had offered to do ;
something for him. This uncle had j
nromised Jim a irood team and a little |
With of cattle if he would come here
and go to school a whole year.
"The very day school is out,'" Jim went
on, 4,I shall start for the West. When
I'm of age I mean to get a claim, and put
my stock on it. Then I'll be apt to
quit cow-punching, and turn sod-pelter."
All this was not very encouraging to
his teacher. It was plain that Jim intended
to stay the whole lon^ year, and
it was'only too plain that he aid" not eare
for an education, and thought of the j
schooling only as a disagreeable steppingstone
to the team and bunch of cattle.
On the other baud, I am afraid that
Miss Allen knew and cared as little
about stock-raising in the West as Jim
did about spelling and grammar. Beside,
she had no idea that a "sod-pclter" meaut
a farmer, and she had a shadowy notion
that Jim meant to devote the remainder
of his existence to throwing clods of
grass, like the old man iu the spellingbook.
The days of that week passed rather
slowly for Miss Allen. She tried hard to
accept Jims presence in a missionary
spirit, but, in truth, he was a perpetual
trial to her order-loving, sympathetic
soul. He was not bud, but he was so
big! He seemed to try to do right, but
he was so utterly untrained in the ways
of the school room that every motion was
a blunder.
And yet, in his own sphere, Jim had a
skill they never dreamed of. His grace
and accuracy with horse and gun and
lariat would have been a marvel to any
man in that city. Perhaps he felt his
present inferiority even more than his
teacher did. Perhaps the days were
wearily long to him, and the year seemed
endless in prospect.
Miss Allen had planrfed a school picuic
for Saturday, and on Friday the children
were full of excitement about it. One
of them told lier that Jim wasn't going.
At first she was rather relieved to hear it,
but when she entered the school-room she
was touched by the homesick look on the
boy's face.
"James," said she, kindly, "I am
afraid our life here does not seem quite
natural to you.
"I'm afraid not.'' answered James,
dryly; and then added, with a burst of
confidence: "Why, Miss Allen, in all
this week 1 haint seen nor heard but just
one thing that seemed natural to me, and
that was the story you was a-readin' us
about that old ranchman that pastured On
the Government land."
"What!" cried his teacher, hi blank
astonishment.
"That had such a big bunch of sons,
you know; and they was his cowboys."
"Hut I haven't read any such story,"
said Miss Allen.
"Why, yes, don't you remember?" said
Jim. "And one day, when they was off
on the range, the old man sent the little
kid out from the home ranch to look 'em
up, and find out how they was."
"No," said the young lady; "I never
read vou astorv like that."
"Perhaps you dou't remember," said
Jim, "but I do, because it seemed natural.
And the kid went on,and got where
he thought they was; and he found they
had moved the whole bunch on to another
range. And when he did find them,
they chucked the little kid into a bi<*
wash-out, and then pulled him out ana
sold him to the Indians."
"James!"
"That's what you said," continued I
Jim, respectful but positive, "I don't;
remember what the book called 'em, but t
you said they was the same as the Araps
in the geography. That's what we call j
the Arapahocs."
"The Arabs!" exclaimed Miss Allen. !
"It is possible that you mean the story of |
Joseph and his brethren?"
"That's it!" answered Jim. "I couldn't!
think of the name. Poor little kid! We j
wouldn't treat no little -kid that way. '
That part wasn't natural."
Miss Atlen did not know how exactly j
the present life on the great plains is rep- '
resented by some passages of the Old ,
Testament. She concluded to postpone J
the matter of Biblical exegesis, and said, j
cheerfully: "You will get used to us in j
time, i nope, .;ames.
"I don't kuow,'said Jim, rather dolefully,
"When a fellow's been a maverick
long as I have, it comes rather rough to
be rounded-up and roped and branded,
even if they do put him into a nice little ]
corral like this. And then, an old ranger j
like me hates to trot along with the
calves."
Miss Allen did not understand this ,
speech very well, but she felt that her
new pupil was homesick aud lonely, and, i
like the good little woman that she was, J
she spoke so kiudly that her simple i
words went straight to the boy's heart. 1
He replied only "thank you," but she
was 'astonished to see that the tears
flashed into his eyes as he spoke.
With a new interest in him, she said.
sincerely and cordially: "I hope you j
will go to the picnic to-morow, James, j
You will like to see something of the :
country, I think."
"I'll come if you want me," said '
Jim.
Gray's Park could hardly be called
"the country." To be sure, it was a
tvild and picturesque little spot, but after
ill there were only a few acres of land,
sot of! by the city for public recreation,
rhc river runs by Gray's Park, playing
with pebbles and trailing willow- j
branches like a peaceful country river;
but a little farther down the stream it j
plunges with a mighty bustle and roar of:
business down a great dam. Here are j
Mustered the city mills and in the {
quietest part of Gray's Park you cau
hfiir the whir-r-r of machinery minified
with the noises of the streets.
The picnic was like other sehool-picaics.
The children ran and shouted,
brought Miss Allen a wonderful collection
of flowers and leaves and pebbles,
ite too much dinner, got their feet wet,
md found a mud-turtle.
It was almost time to go home. Miss
Allen had repacked the lunch baskets,
ind Jim had taken down the swing,
though he climbed rather awkwardly,
and declared that he "felt like a tenderfoot
in a tree."
He lay by the water's edge, coiling the
rope upon his left arm, and handling it
rather wistfully. Jim could do wonderful
things with a rope. If he had been
alone he would have tried a few of his
old throws, although he might have
found it rather tame practice, on foot,
instead of on horsback, and with an old
stump for a target, instead of a gallopin
it st per
Miss Allen sat near him, on a rusticscat
made of a twisted hemlock tree.
J im had come to like his teacher, and
to want to please her, and he knew that
his cowboy accomplishments made her
rather uneasy. In fact, the young lady
thought of the plainsman's life as an
acted sensation novel.
''This is a pretty place, isn't it?" she
said.
' Yes," answered Jim, rather doubtfully;
"but it seems shut in. sort of.
There ain't no stirring in these parts, and
the trees is in the way a good deal. You
( an't " < (; much."
' But the rocks and the river, you like
them, do you not?"
"I don't like the river much, either;
I'm afraid of the water."
"But I thought you were afraid of
nothing!" "I don't like the water,
though," said Jim. "I never could see
the use of as much as you Eastern folks
have lyin' about. You could't hire me
to get iuto a boat."
"I should not try, just here," replied
th# lady, smiling. "It looks quiet, but
the current is very dangerous. Just a
little further down, they say that no man
could manage a boat."
"Would he go over the dam?" he
asked.
"Yes, and be dashed to pieces on the
rocks beneath. This is not a good boating
river. There is a stretch of a mile or
so, above this, where small craft can go,
and a few of the gentlemen who own
these houses keep little pleasure-boats.
But. above that the channel is too
shallow, and below it is dangerous."
"Ii don't seem a very good place for
the kids," mused Jim.
'For the children, James."
"For the children. If vou had 'em
out ou the prairie, they'd be safer."
"Why," exclaimed Miss Allen, "I
I wouldn't trust myself on the prairie, to
say nothing of the children! They say
there arc rattlesnakes there."
" Yes," admitted Jim, "there is some
: rattlcsmakes. But it's safer than this, I
i think."
"While these two had been working
and talking, something had happened
that, beyoud all question, never should
have happened at all. The children
knew belter than to get into any boat
without permission, and in this case they
I knew, too, that they were meddling witn
' private property.
Nevertheless, when a party of little boys
I ami girls, wandering up the bank, came
| upon a beautiful green-and-white boat
j snugly hidden in a tiny cove where no
j boat had ever been before, then all the
| trouble began.
J . First they stopped to examine and
| admire; and then two little boys
jumped in, and begun to rock from side
to side, and to tell how they dared ride
i away down to the mill-dam in her; and
( next two little girls thought they would
get in, too, if the boys wouldn't rock;
I and the boys promised, with a sarcastic
side-speech about girls and 'fraid-cats;
and soon all four were seated oa the
| pretty grecn-aud-white batches.
Then, in some way, the boat got adrift.
' Perhaps the boat was only drawn upon
! the sand, and the rocking pushed it off.
Perhaps some mischievous boy untied the
j rope. At all events, it was caught by
: the current, and begau to glide down the
treacherous stream.
When Miss Allen heard the screams,
and looked from the frantic group on the
j shore to the tiny boat out on the river,
I her very heart seemed to stand still. To
stay so near, and safe and well, yet utterj
Iy powerless, while those children in her
I care sped on to death! Her senses
' swam.
The suuny sparkles on the river shone
in her eyes like electric flashes. She
i seemed to see, already, the little faces,
! cold and dead, and the limbs all crushed
| and mangled, and she heard the reproachful
cries of their parents.
And Jim?who might, at least, have
j run swiftly and given the alarm?what
j was Jim doing?
Nothing.
j Or next to nothing; so it seemed.
He did not even rise at first. One
glance up the river with his keen blue
eyes, and he went on worKingat nisrope.
He was making a loop of on end. lie
did not seem to hurry, birt he wasted no
motion.
Holding the loop in his right hand,
while the coils still hung upon his left
arm, he waded through the shallow shore
water to the edge of the deeper channel.
His quick glance seemed to take in everything,
the currcnt, the river-bottom, aud
the banks. Even the light wind from
the west was tested an instant with his
upheld hand. There was no hurry, no
flutter, but every nerve was awake, and
every muscle true to call.
The boat was moving faster now. She
quivered and thrilled with the strong
and dangerous current. She has floated
past.
No! Look! With one supple motion,
Jim has thrown his loop. It speeds
through the air like a live thing, and
falls, true to aim, just where the
frightened children can grasp it best.
Quick as thought, Jim moves with the
boat, managing the rope so that it shall
not tighten to soon. Above the medley
ol sounds rises nis cif'ar, ringing voice,
and they hear and obey his rapid directions.
"Pass the rope the long way of the
boat! Every one take hold! Now?
hold fast."
They do hold fast. Eight little hands,
with the strength of desperation, clutch
the rope. With a long, steady, even
pull, Jim heads the boat for the shore,
and grounds it on the shallows.
Here my story might end, if Jim had
known how to wade in a pebbly-bottom
river. But as he laid hold of the prow,
and pulled with all his strength to drawit
further up, his foot slipped among the
smooth, water-worn stones, and he fell
heavily, and struck his head upon a
sharp rock. And when, at last, some
men came running to help, they found
the children safe on shore, but Jim lay
senseless in the shallow, while Miss
Allen, with her pretty dress all soaked
and clinging, held his head out of the
water.
Of course, Jim was the hero of the day.
He professed great chagrin because he
was "fool enough to hurt himself," but
1 lie was no less a horo because he spent a
few days in a sick-room.
j Thou the fathers of the rescued children
' met in solemn conclave to decide what
| they should do for Jim. There was
talk of a subscription and a presentation,
but good sense and good taste prevailed,
and they decided to offer him nothing except
their heartfelt thanks; but to keep
the boy in sight,and when the time came,
to do him substantial service.
1 tninK mat wnen dim geis reauy iu
settle on his claim, he will have as liberal
a personal outfit as any young "sodpelter"
need desire,
But the mothers could not wait so long
before they testified their gratitude, ana
Jim declares that before he left his room
ho had dressing-gowns and slippers
enough to fit out all the Boston dudes
cast of the Mississippi. Long before the
doctor had thought it possible, Jim was
back in the school-room, very pale and
thin, though, and with a long red scar
down one cheek.
"I guess I got branded for keeps, that
time," says Jim. ? Youth's Companion.
Human Ashes.
"Did you ever see any human ashes?"
was the rather startling question put to
a reporter of the New York Mail and Express
by President Cobb, of the United
ppfimofian 5nfxr Pnuliu-inrr ji
square glass eight-ounce bottle, threefourths
full of almost white ashes, he
said:
''These are the ashes of a child about
six or seven years old. Tlu-y were left in
charge of the society by the parents, who
were going out of the city, and had no
safe place to bestow them. Ilere [showing
a round tin box about eight inches
high and six in diameter, half full ol
ashes of the same color] are the remains
of a man, coftin and all. They are delivered
to the relatives in this form."
Man Wants but Little Here Below.
Some men content from birth,
Their modest life-course run,
And only want the earth
And a mortgage on the sun.
They'd live in quiet bliss
And free from all that mars
If they had the Solar Sysi
Tem and the other stars.
POPULAB SCIENCE.
The velocity of dynamic electricity on
the best possible conductor, suspended
in air so as to avoid all dielectric action,
is said to be 228,000 miles per seeond.
An English company has perfected its
arrangements for providing sick chambers
with telephones. The objects is to give
persons suffering from contagious diseases
a chances to talk.with their friends.
Speaking tubes are inadmissible on account
of the infectious nature of the
breath.
It is stated that the specimens of clay
from the Royal Society's borings in the
Nile delta Live not at present yielded any
but "derived'' fossils: but beds of gravel
found at a depth of 120 feet show that
the whole surface was formerly 130 feet
higher, and was that of an ordinary
riv^r valley.
Some observations made in France by
M. Cosson may throw light upon many
mysterious fires. In one instance spontaneous
firing arose from an air current
heated to seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit
only. The wood slowly carbonized
at that temperature, and, being thus
rendered extremely porous, a rapid absorption
of oxygen resulted, and sufficient
heat can then be produced to inflame dry
material. In another case, the warmth
from the air hole of a stove was sufficient
to set fire to wood work.
Edison has notified his friends that his
experiments with his sea telephone in
Florida were quite successful. Already
I he can transmit sound between two vesI
sels from three to four miles distant from
' each other, and is confident that he will
be able to increase the distance between
his stations ns the apparatus becomes more |
perfect. Up to tLc present time Mr.
Edison has not succeeded in transmitting
articulate speech through his sea tele- j
| pnone, nor is tnis essemiai 10 tac suixcas i
I of the system. By means of submarine
I explosions he is enabled to form a series
of short and long sounds in sequence,
and by these, as in the Morse system of
telegraphy, words and sentences can
readily be transmitted.
Recent weather charts of the British
Meteorological Council show that during
the entire autumn a permanent area of
| high barometer is situated in the midI
Atlantic south of the parallel of forty degrees.
North of this, low-pressure tracks
are very frequent. Many of the storms
originate over the United States, and |
they often gather force after starting on
their eastward course over the Atlantic,
sometimes even entirely crossing the
ocean. The vicinity of Newfoundland,
where hot and cold water meet,and there
are great differences in air-temperature in i
a very small area, has a great influence
upon the weather of the Atlantic and of
the British Island}. Here are formed
I many storms, while uome are here stopped
and suddenly broke n up.
Volapitk, the new universal language
which is meeting with such favor in
Europe, is the result of twenty years of
laborious research on the part of its inventor,
M. Schlever, of Constance. Its .
great merit lies in its simplicity, which I
cs.uses it to be very quickly learned, and i
to be especially adapted to the needs of |
trade between nations. It has no artificial
genders, a single conjunction, and no
irregular verbs. Tiie roots of it3 words
have been borrowed from all the languages
of Europe. Tte adjective, verb and
adverb are regularly formed from the substantive,
and have invariably the same
termination. Yolapuk grammars have now
been prepared in English, as well as in ,
most other important languages of the j
giobe.
Some years ago Professor Munk de- i
scribed the condition of dogs from whose i
brains a certain cortical area had been re- J
moved, and gave it the name of "psychic [
blindne&s." A dog in this condition can j
I see, for he avoids all obstacles as well as
' ever, but what he sees has lost all meaning
for him. If, for example, the dog
was accustomed to jump over a rod when
it was held before him, he no longer recognizes
this signal; his whole psychic
life is duller, and, in particular, the
world of sight has lost all significance.
This is now only one of a large series of \
phenomena which show that there is one j
center in which an object is seen, and |
1 another center in which it is perceived,
or, better appciceived. Disease may in- j
jure one and leave the other intact.
Money in Butterflies and Motlis.
"Have butterflies or moths any commercial
value?" asked a New York Herald
reporter of a distinguished entomologist.
"Indeed, they have. A man the other
day offered $50 for a rare butterfly. I
know some men in New York and
Brooklyn who make a regular business of |
selling and exchanging butterflies. A
man wrote to me from Switzerland yester- I
day asking if I would exchange some
American moths for some European !
butterflies. It is by such exchanges that j
collectors manage to get such a variety !
of specimens."
"When does the season begin?"
"As soon as winter goes, and it lasts
until winter begins. 1 have cocoons at
home now which will be out soon. When
I go after moths, I smear some smoothed
barked trees in the afternoon, and in the
evening I find lots of moths sticking to
them. I pin them all carefully in a box
and take them home, and afterward
throw away those which I do not want.
There are very many varieties, and,
more curious still, there are moths in
New York and New Jersey which you
cannot find at all in Massachusetts.
Aye, and some variety of moths are found
in one section of a state that do not appear
at all in another. This is probably the
main reason why it is almost impossible
to classify moths properly?"
"Does this hobby of yours cost you
much?"
"Oh, no. The cabinets and boxes are
not expensive, and all I have to buy now
are pins. They certainly cost more than
they ought. I get 500 at a time and
have to pay G5 cents for them. They are
imported from Germany and arc made in
five different sizc6. That they are not
made here has long surprised me.
Another item of expense is books. There
are a few good ones, but they cost a good
deal of money. I fancy it is on account
of the engravings."
"Who bus the largest collection of
butterflies in America?"
"I am not certain. A gentleman in
Reading, Pa., I am told, has over SO,000 i
specimens. I have collccted several |
thousand at various times, and hope to .
collect several thousand more before I j
die. I have a good many cocoons in the i
hmisr. n/iw?niirl that reminds me I must
hurry off aud have a look at tlicm."
A Vacuum Car.
A New York genius has invented a i
"vacuum car," with which he averts his
ability to navigate the air at a high rate
of speed and drop explosives with precision
upon the decks of war vessels or in
fortified places. DetaHs of the invention
are lacking in the letter the inventor has
sent to the Navy department, but the
matter is deemed of sufficient import- j
i Jince to warrant inquiry, aud an ordnance ;
! officer luis been instructed to communis !
cute in person w:sA the inventor.
! COUNT LAD1NSK1.
remarkable career op a
MAN WITH A HISTORY.
His Adventures in South America,
in the Siberian Mines, and in
the United States?A
Stirring Life.
"There is a man with a history," said
I an acquaintance to a reporter yesterday
j afternoon.
The man referred to was sitting in a
! hall with several companions around a
table, on which stood mugs, a plate of
caviare sandwishes, a pot of mustard,
etc.
"I know him well; I will introduce
you," and the reporter was presented to
Mr. Ladinski, a Pole, and to his companions,
three Russians, Ladinski and
his companions seemed to be on the best
of terms. They were speaking French
when the reporter joined them, but im!
mediately changed to English, which all
spoke fluently, Ladinski not having the \
slightest foreign accent. In the course
of the conversation that ensued Mr.
Ladinski good humorcdly answered interrogations,
and in a modest way recountered
some of his adventures, which
in a narrative form arc about as touows: j
John, Count Ladinski, was born in J
Warsaw, Poland, in 1830. When six i
years old he saw his mother knouted for |
refusing to tell of her husband's .where- j
abouts. Six months after that his father j
was captured and shot by order of the
! Czar. Shortly after that his mother dis- J
j appeared, and to this day he docs not <
, know what became of her. "When about j
seven years of age he found himself home-!
less and penniless. He was picked up j
half starved on the street by a kindhearted
Jew merchant, who adopted and j
took him to St. Petersburg. He re-1
mained with his adopted father for seven !
years, and was given a good education,
the merchaut employing a tutor for him
and his two sons.
Ladinski was walking along a quiet
street one night in St. Petersburg, when
about fifteen years old, and came
suddenly on two Russian soldiers who
were beating a Polish Jew peddler because
he had refused to give them money.
He became enraged at the sight, and
demanded that they should quit. The
soldiers let the peddler alone, but seized
the boy ana were nustung mm on to j
prison when he drew a knife, killed one j
of them, and dangerously wounded the
other.
Realizing what lie had done, young
Ladinski stowed away on an English
vessel, and was fortunate enbugh to escape
the country. The Captain of the
vessel took a liking to the boy and !
landed him in London with a ?5 note j
and a new suit of clothes. He managed
to open communications with his foster j
father, who sent a sum of money to a I
friend of his to be used for Ladinski,
who remained in London for about a
year. Being discovered, however, by
one of the secret service agents of Russia,
he was obliged to flee England, and
went to Rio Janeiro, South America.
He secured a position as tutor in the
family of a rich Brazilian, and remained
there for three years. His benefactor took
a strong liking to the young man and ;
sccured him a commission in the i
Brazilian navy.
The man-of-war on which he was went \
on a cruise to Europe. Ladinski and 1
several of his brother officers went ashore j
one night at Naples to attend a masked j
ball. He became separated from his I
companions and started alone for the !
boat, and while on his way was knocked
down, bound and gagged, and hurried
aboard a Russian vessel which was in the !
bay. He was placed in irons and kept in j,
prison until St. Petersburg was reached, j.
There he was turned over to the authori- i:
ties. I;
After haviug spent six months in a I
dungeon without hearing anything from !.
the outside world, Mr. Ladinski was taken j
before a tribunal, tried for the murder of |
the soldier, and sentenced to Siberia for
life. He made the journey to the mines :
on foot, with a number of political pris- j:
oners, and remained in the mines for live i
years.
Mr. Ladinski seemed adverse to speak- i
ing about the hardships he underwent j
while there, but said that at the end ot!:
five years he was the only one left out of i,
twenty-three men who went in with him. |
As he had behaved him-elf so as to win i
the respect of the guards and officers, he j:
was removed from the mine and given a j
clerkship in a Government warehouse. ;'
While there he conceived the idea of
forging himself a pardon from the Czar, ;
and after a year's hard work, being
assisted by a daughter of the post commander,
Col. Tourteloff, he succeeded in
having a free and unconditionable pardon
handed to him. and at once made
preparations to Icivc. By some means |
he was well supplied with funds by his j
foster father.
He made his way foacK to St. voters- |
ourg, and was preparing to leave the j
country, when he was pounc cd upon by j
Russian spies, thrown into jail to re-1
aaain until an investigation could be had, I
which, of course, resulted in the daring j
forgery becoming kno wn. The Czar, I
who evidently had a gr iin sense of hu- j
mor, had the daring young Pole brought |
before him and ques tioaed him about i
himself. The result of the interview was
that his royal highness pardoned Ladiuski
for the murder, but allowed the law
to take its course in regard to the forgery,
the result being that he was again sen- |
tenced for life in the mines, and started
back to the hell he had schemed so long
to escape from.
When about one month 011 the road !
Ladinskianda young Russian officer. a
political prisoner, managed to free them- j
selves of their shackles and escaped. Mr. j
Ladinski thinks that he and his com- ]
panion, a Captain Komiskoff, must have .
walked 1,000 miles before they felt them- .
selves safe. They went across the border J ]
of Austria, and managed to make ,
their way to England. They remained j
in London for a year, when Komiskoff <
tonk a notion to come to the United ,
States. Ladinski supported himself by ]
giving music and painting lessons, and <
while there married an English lady who ]
brought him quite a dot. They ha(' two j
children born to tliem, and while the .
youngest was a babe the mother died. \
When the civil war broke out in the (
United States Mr. Ladinski placed his ,
children in an asylum and came to Amor- [ ~
icn and enlisted as a private in the Fortyninth
New York. His valor soon won |
him promotion, and when the war closed
he was a Major, was covered with honorable
scars, and had spent four months in
Andersonville. Mr. Ladinski related a
number of other incidents in his eventful
life, and when asked why it was that he,
a Pole, chose for his companions, Russians.
he replied:
"This is my friend, Captain Koiniskoff.
I found him in America. I hail
not seen him for ever so many years.
These gentlemen are his friends and mine, j
They are educated gentlemen, and have |
no love for the Czar. We belong to the j
same brotherhood. t
"Well, ves, we were Nihilists, but are
now American citizens. America is a
good enough country for us. We intend
to live in Colorado. We have some
money, and will buy ranches. We are
not bloodthirsty villains.''?Denver {Col.)
News.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Moral courage is the rarest of qualities,
and often maligned.
Life is too short to be spent in minding
other people's business.
The seeds of our puishment are sown
at the time wc commit the sin.
Faith steps in to our aid when our
boasted reason aud knowledge fail.
The sympathy of sorrow is stronger
than the sympathy of prosperity.
Life is a quarry o Jt of which we are to
mold and chisel and complete a character.
Labor disgraces no man; unfortunately
you occasionally find men who disgrace
labor.
Lift thyself up, look around, and see
something higher and brighter than
earth, earth worms, and earthly" darkness.
There cannot be a more worthy improvement
of friendship than in the fervent
opposition to the sins of those who
we profess to love.
All mankind are happier for having
been happy, so that, if you make them
happy now, you make them happy twenty
years hence by the memory of it.
The livinrr net credit for what thev
# ??O O "" ? *i
might be quite as much as for what they
are. Posterity judges a man by the best
rather than the average of his attainment.
Home is given for the sake of its inmates.
They have the ability to render
it a benediction. Its character depends
on each one striving to help the other
and be developed.
Learn from the earliest days to inure
your principles against the perils of ridicule;
you can no more exercise your reason
if you live in the constant dread of
laughter, than you can enjoy your life
if you are in the constant terror of
death.
The Staked Plains of Texas.
J. C. Rathbun writes to the InterOcean
about the Staked Plains of Texas
in tins strain: ine generally accepted
theory of the origin of the name is that,
in the long ago, as a company of Catholic
missionaries was crossing this plain
going to Santa Fe, the men stuck stakes
at long intervals by which thev might
trace their way back. The Staked Plain
is a gently undulating prairie, covered
with about twenty-five varieties of rich,
nutritious grasses. The grass has the
quality of ripening in fall and pres?rving
its nutriment, like hay, so that stock fatten
on it during winter. In fact, stockmen
do not ship their beeves till after the
cattle have fed for a few weeks on the
cured grass. The soil is a chocolate colored
sandy loam, and very productive.
The prairie is covered with a scraggy
bush called mesquite, whose only utility
is the beans it produces, which make
excellent winter feed for stock. As in
Western Nebraska. Kansas, and Eastern
Colorado, the rains on the Staked Plain
and in the Panhandle of Texas are irregular,
too much so to make it an exclua?tr/i1tr
a r?t?i /?n1 + n rQ 1 GPnflAn "Rllf. ofnnlr
fanning can be and is carried on successfully.
An inexaustible supply of water
is found at a depth of from fifteen to
seventy-five feet. At Midland it is at
about forty feet. The Texas and Pacific
Railway crossed the plains in 1881,
and there arc now three growing towns
on the Staked Plain?Marienfeld. started
in 1882, Midland in 1884, and Odessa in
1886?situated twenty miles apart. Of
these Midland is the largest, and has a
population of about 800, and is the shipping
point for the beef and wool interests
of this extensive grazing area.
Weather Bureau Signals.
The cautionary signals of the weather
bureau are of two kinds: 1. Those pretnonishing
dangerous winds to blow
from any direction, aud (2.) Those premonishing
off-shore winds likely to drive
vessels out to sea. Both kinds are needed
and used on the shore of seas and lakes,
for the guidance of mariners. These
signals are only used when a wind storm
of at least thirty-five miles an hour is approaching.
The first, known distinctively
as the iicauti9narv signal," is a red
Hag with a black square in the center in
the clay time ana a rea lignc oy mgnt.
The second, or cautionary off-shore signal,
is a flag with two stripes of black
and white, indicating direction of the
wind by its position with reference to the
cautionary signal always displayed with
it. and also by position of the stripes. That
is, the black stripe is above the white
when northerly winds are expcctcd, and
below for southerly winds, and the direction
signal is shown above the cautionary
signal when easterly winds are
impending and below for westerly winds.
These are all day time signals; there are
no night signals for wind direction,
though a white light above a red light
by night indicates that while the storm
has not yet passed the station, and dangerous
winds may yet be felt there, they
will probably be from the north or west.
There is also an on shore wind signal
which is hoisted only on the lakes when
a wind on the water of twenty to thirtylive
miles an hour may be expected to
blow on shore, a wind dangerous to
small vessels, barges, and tows. This is
a flag of four alternate squares of black
and white. In the night time this
is represented by a white light.?InterOcean.
Botanic Gardens of the World.
According to a report of the Montreal
Horticultural. Society, there are 19?
botanical gardens in the entire world,
ind they are thus distributed: France
md her colonies, 2.3; England and Ireland.
12:tho English colonies, 27; Ger
many, 34: Italy. 23; Russia and Siberia,
17; Austria and Hungary, 13; Scanlinavia,
7; Belgium and Holland and
colonies, Spain and colonies, and the
I'nited States, 0 each; Portugal and
Switzerland, 3 each: Denmark and
lioumania, 2each: Brazil, Chili, Ecuador.
Egypt, Greece. Guatemala, Japan, Peru
ind Servia, 1 oucli. The list may be
completed by mentioning the gardens of j
[Jeuevaand Louvain, and a few that have
ecently been organized in English India.
:U least half of the gardens mentioned ,
ibove are kept by the Government, i
ighteen per cent, by universities, some- <
imes in conjunction with the general or ,
lity government, eleven per cent, by \
ities alone, and tive per cent by private j
lonations. Out of the same number j
linetv-four per cent, are always open to \
lie public, seventy per cent, are open to j
isitors on Sunday only, and seventyhree
per cent, publish reports, or con- ,
ribute in some such waj to scientific <
escarch. I
In Russia, on the northern railways, J
he locomotives, hitherto burning wood
>r coal, are beiog adapted for peat burn
ng, the saving being estimated at fifty ,
i *r eeut. J j
'm
HOUSEHOLD HATTERS.
Doing Up Lace.
Laces rubbed, starched and ironed are
rarely fit to wear again; but good laca
may be done up so as to be kept looking
fresh long after it is really old ana
worn.
Laces that require doing up should be
basted carefully between folds of thin
muslin and put into cold, soft water, to
every pint of which must be previously
administered a teBspoonful of aqua ammonia
and sufficient white soap to make
I if 3- T -x IV A? t .;i - *
gooa suas. i,ei me warcr oou a iew
minutes, and, if the laces are not then
clean, pour off the liquid and put in cold
water as before; continue to do so until
the articles and thoroughly cleansed. ,
Never wring out lace?always squeeze
it between folds of muslin. If clear lace
is required, put a little bluing in the
rinse water; if the old-time yellowish
tinge is wished, a few teaspoonfuls of "
strong coffee in the rinse water will give
the requisite hue. Lace must never be
stiff, but a little of the limpness maybe
taken off. if desirable, by putting a little
dissolved gum arabic in the rinse water.
Now press the clean, rinsed laces between
folds of white muslin, till they are.
as dry as they can be made in this way;
then pin each article out smoothly and i?
its shape on a pillow, and with a fine
needle pick out and raise up every stem,
and leaf and thread to its proper place.
Ventilating Kitchens.
Some writer says: "Our grandmothers
got their bowed shoulders by cooking at
the hearth before stoves were kn?>wn."
The women of this age will not be better
off unless stoves are raised, so that a
woman can work at them without curving
her spine. There is too little attention
given to making kitchen work easy,
even in these days of improved methods.
Stoves, tables and sinks should all be
made high enough for one to stand at
and work comfortably without stooping.
Another thiug that needs looking after is
the imperfect ventilation of kitchens.
Physicians say that more cases of neuralgia
come from overheated air than
from being exposed to diaughts. The
foul air of the sink and th>: odors of cooj|?
ing bring on many casci of biood poisoning.
The girls who live constantly-in
kitchens do not notice the bad air, but
housekeepers should sic that there is a
way to insure ventilation. Not long ago
a servant was taken ill, and the ladies of
the house who took up her work were
unable to stand even for a day the impure
drainage, but the-"girl" ceuld work,
week in and week out, without any car# ,
given to the sanitary condition of the
kitchen. Our grandmothers had a sfmple
method of disinfecting which has
gone out of fashion, and which was to *
sprinkle brimstone on a shovel of hot
coals and carry the burning result through
the house.?Detroit Tribune.
Recipes.
Gravy for Boiled Meats.?Take
half-pint of the water in which the meat -jhas
been boiled, thicken it with a littU
flour and butter, adding for a flavoring a
tablespoonful of pickled cucumbers and i
a sprig or two of parsley, both finely .
minced. A little mustard and vinegar
may be add ad if liked. Serve in a
tureen.
C!/vr?? nAfn^AAB
JJlI-LiXX. DUtr.?I %?ui |n/i/UU/Wj vnw
onions, two ounces of butter, quarter o I
an ounce of salt, pepper to taste, oni
pint of milk, three tablespoonfuls tapioca.
Boil slowly all the vegetables with
two quarts of water. Strain through
the colander. Add milk and tapioca.
Boil slowly and stir constantly for twenty
minutes.
Chocolate Caramels.?One pint of
sugar dissolved in a wineglass of vinegar,
half a cup of butter, one cupful of grated
chocolate, boil until quite thick, put in
buttered tins, and cut in squares whea
partly cooled. Instead of vinegar you
can use water flavored with essence ol
vanilla, and they will be finer, but a
little vinegar keeps them, from sugaring.
Cofpee Cake.?Pour one cup of boiling
hot strong coffee on one cup of lard
or pork fat, add one cup of molasses, one
cup of brown sugar, three well-beaten
e^gs, one teaspoonful each of cloves,
cinnamon, allspice, one-half of nutmeg,
one teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a ,
little warm water, flour enough to make
a stiff batter. Bake in sheet-iron pan
one hour and a half in a slow oven.
Scollopkd Cabbage.?Boil a firm
caDDage in two waters, jjrain auapress,
and let it get perfectly cold. Then mince
fine, add two tnblespoonfuls of melted
butter, two eggs well beaten, three tablespoonfuls
of cream or milk, pepper and
salt to your fancy. Put into a buttered . .
cake dish, sift fine crumbs on top, and
bake, covered, half an hour, then brown
delicately.
Ego Salad.?Boil eight eggs for
twenty minutes, then plunge them into
cold water for a minute or two; take
them out, remove their shells and mince
the yolks and the whites separately.
Spread the bottom of a dish with a layer
of crisp lettuce, over this a layer of watercress,
then a layer of the minced whites
of the egg, topping it with the minced
yolks. ,Makc a hole in the middle of all
and pour in a good Mayonnaise dressing.
Ragout of Liyek.?Heat three or four
spoonfuls of nice dripping in a fryingpan,
add an onion, sliced, a tablespoon
t'ul of chopped parsley, and thrice as
much minced breakfast bacon; when all
are hissing hot lay in the liver cut in
pieces as long and wide as your middle
linger, and fry brown, turning often; take
out the liver and keep warm in a covered
hot-water dish; strain the gravy, rinse
out the frying-pan, and return to the fire
with the gravy and an even tablespoonful
of butter worked up well in two of
browned flour. Stir until you have a
smooth, browned roux, thin gradually
with half a cupful of boiling water and
the juice of half a lemon, add a teaspoonful
of minced pickle and a scant half teaspoonful
of curry powder wet with cold
water. Boil sharply, pour over the liver,
put fresh boiling water in the pan under
the dish, and let all stand closely covered
for ten minutes before serving.
An Album of United States Consuls.
Dr. St. Clair, the chief of the Consular
Bureau in the State Department, is making
a collection of photographs of the
Consuls of the United States. Oneofthe
most conspicuous of the many cards is
that of Mr. Ben Folsom, Mrs. Cleveland's
cousin, who was recently appointed
Consul at Sheffield. England. Mr. Fol
V!_ ...? ...U il,-.
som was uiu.Mng- ms uuiMgiu|/u iu mo
card in the white house one day when
the President, seeing what he was doing,
isked him what he intended to do with
it, and was informed that it was going to
take its place in an album of United
States Consuls.
The President pronounced the album a
capital idea, and expressed a desire to
see it as soon as completed. Since then
:he President has inquired several times
how the album is progressing. He ia
in\ions to see the sort of men representor
this country abroad. Dr. St. Clair's
jollection is pretty nearly complete now,
ind the order for an album will be given
ihortlv.?Cincinnati Commercial.
4