Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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'Twixt Life and Deat A!) MR MEDICAL ADVICE. A Story of the Franco Prussian War. BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. CHAPTER IX. HAKTMAXN ENCROACHES. The fact that so long a time had passe since Blanche had received news from he isther was beginning to cause her ver grave anxiety. True, he had warned he that this might occur; and he had beggei of her not to be troubled by useless fear if at any time all communication betweei them should cease. Nevertheless, try a Bhe would, she coold not keep off th horrible fears -which oppressed her, am which deepened day by day. At the chateau there was nothing noi to interest her, for even her patient ha' passed out of her hands. Blessed with good constitution, he had rapidly gninei strength, and, according to the gossip o the servants, it was more the bright eyei of Blanche de Gavrolles than his maimei arm which kept him at the chateau. But at last, as ho stood at his window watching ihe slim figure of the young gii as she mjved up and down the terrace the truth came to him with startling vivid Bess. It was a terrible discovery, and i; those first few moments brought him al most as much pain as pleasure. Never r theless, the truth mu6t be acknowledged . and in acknowledging it, he knew tha Blanche de Garvolles was likely to he come more to him than his country or hi life. What was to be done? Should he repa; good with evil?acknowledge her swee charity and gentle goodness by remaining trying to make her love him, and 60 brin; upon her all the horror and misery whicl K* ruch a love must cause? Whereas, i r< be left her now, he could do so, he be lieved, without causing her one singl pang. And yet how could he go? He was prisoner. True, he was not strictly guard ?d, for he had given his word. Must h break his parole, quietly effect his escape f " and leave behind him a tainted name fo Blanche to think of? No; he could no do that. He owed her much, but h< lacked the courage to make so great sacrifice. "If I must not win her love, at least le / me be worthy of her esteem," he said I "As well have a bullet through my hear as a look of reproach from her eyes; fox atrong man as I am, it would kill me." Hurriedly descending he made his wa; to the terrace, but it was empty. He in quired for Blanche, and found th;:t sh had left the chateau, and hnd taken th I path which led to the top of the cliffs. Quickly following the path, he glancei on every hand for Blanch-1; but she wa 2.7 nowhere to be seen. After searchini Jr around the woods iu every direction h j was about to return, ttuu&mg sue mign oven then bo in ono of the rooms at thi ? chateau, when suddenly he glanced to wan the open door of the little Chapel of Ou Xndy ami snw Blanche quietly issuinj "^rom the porch. As sho had not noticed him he dre^ back; for she was closely followed by anc .seemed in deep conversation with an elder ly woman. They passed close bv Hart mann; but although he could not be seei , by them he h*ard every word of their con versntion. The hag?no other, indeed, than ehi who was praying before the altar when ^ only a few weeks before, Blanche enterec I 'the chapel by her father's side?was talk ing rapidly, hissing her words into thi young giri's ear. "You do well to pray for your father, he said; "you, who even nov7 nre tendini ne of his* enemies. "What would be sa; if he knew that while he was fighting dowi the accursed Germans like -wheat hii danghter was gently tending one that b might go forih ag*in and join our foes?" Uttering a cry, Blanche covered he ears with her hands, as if to shut out th sound of the old woman's voice; but th hag. nothing dannttd, and, perhaps, eve; pleased at the effect of her words, wouli : have continued, bat at that moment th TJhlan came forward. Fixing his eyes fiercely npon the o1< -woman, he bade her depart; then h turned courteously to Blanche. "Fraulein," he said, "may I have th honor of conducting you back to the cha teau; or, if you wish to linger abroad i may I linger with yon? It is not snfo fo i| you to wander abroad alone; an;l thoup I I am your country's enemy I may be abl : * to protect you." Before replying, Bbnche glanced timid Jy around. Hartinann, noticing her look, said: , "Yonr tormentor has goue, you 6ee. ^have marked her face well, that 1 ma -never accept even a drink of water at be hands. Ah, franlein. your countrywonid are not like vou, more's the pitv; were i otherwise there would be no more war." "She hus cause for bitterness," sai Blanche, gently; "she has lost two sons. "And you, frauleiu," returned the sol dier, tenderly, "might have lost a father! The girl turned an agonized face to hi; "Has my father then fallen, monsieur? ehe said, in a voice of such suppresse agony that it rent the soldier's heart. "I trust not, frauleiu; but he :b at th ? ?eatofwar." -Ah! yes; he is at the war; but I prir ??/i jo,. c ,fni tv VIUU lii^uv uuu uaj lu .-VUU uiui Diixui back to me." "And I pray that your prayer mny b panted. Your father is very dear to you & ? is he not?" "He is all I have ifi tl:e world." For a time t'uo twow..lked on in silence then they paused, with their faces uune toward the sea, and ?L* =oldier spok a^in: "You have never experienced a gres sorrow, fraulein?" he Raul. "Never, until my father left me to go t the war, monsieur. AVe have always live together at the chateau, and led a ver peaceful life, until the war began, and h was taken from me." "And then you wore left alone? Yo have heard from him, of course?" "At first, almost daily; but for seven weeks now I have not heard one wor<: Ana latterly."she said, "1 have had terri ble dreams." She pauseu, glanced hesitatingly n him; then, reassured by the look on hi fa e. she continued: "For seve-al nights now I had dreame ^ that my futher was with me?not here s the chateau, but on some lonely plainand each time we have been together h has placed hi* hand on my head and rnui mured: 'God bless you, my poor lilancho! And, losing for a moment her habitu: self-possession, she covered her face wit her h'inds and sobbed bitterly. The soldier waited until the violence c her grief had passed away. Then L said: "Yon have more cause than I thouehi i hate me and mine. I nave abused you charity by remaining so long. I will seu word at onco to your soldiers to remov me to Fecamp." Drying her eyes quickly, Blanche turne toward him. "Yo i are not ptrong enough to go, mon sieur." "I have no right to linger: I hav hron ht desolatio 1 to your home." "Ah! do uo-l t ilk like taat. As well ?v | I had d?-??ol?ite'l mnr borne sine vonr sis 1?' ter has 'o*t a brother, your mother a son k It is the war?thi-i terrible war, whicu ] F pray may soon end. Since you are ii H'trouble, you are no longer my enemy?v unless, indeed, your hand had beer 8 jai-ed nguin>.t my dear father, ant " "And then, fraulein?even then yon I ^ronld minister to me, as you did -when I I lay at your mercy?" he asked, eagerly. With a startled cry she drew back and gazed half-ffca'.fully into his eyes. Then, as he made a movement to approach her, she waved him back. "You should not sDeak 60 to me," she 6aid turning away. In a moment he was beside her. "Sou must not go,* tie said, "yon must not leave me like this. I know I have of. fended and wounded you. How could it be otherwise? But you must say you forgive me?that you do not despise me. Had I been able to bear yonr contempt I should have broken my parole, I think, and slunk away, bearing my secret with me; but the fear of your contempt held me. And now I have spoken." She stood very still, bnt did not answer him; and he could not eea her face, for it 3 was turned away. i "Fraulein," he murmured, "you are not y angry with me? I might have known it i could not be otherwise, you are so beautiC ful. But you yourself have said, ' Why s should we be enemies?' Will you not let ? me kiss your hand, fraulein?" e *Xo, monsieur, I cannot." e "Then you do not forgive me? You, d who showed Buch divine mercy when I had committed offenses against your coun* try, caunot forgive now that I have com3 mitted an offense ngninst you?" n I Tr, a mnmortt Vior ViAnd wfifl extended. J He took it and kissed it, then it was i hastily withdrawn; and before he could 9 utter another word the girl had left him, 3 and was hastening with rapid steps toward the chateau. ? CHAPTER X. '' THE FACE IN THE WOODS. j Scarcely had Blanche left the soldier's side when a wild cry of voices, followed by the sharp sound of firing, came from I the village. Hartmann hastened to the I hill-top and looked down. The whole place was in commotion; wreaths of 8 smoke were coming from the house windows, while down the further hill-side v galloped a troop of calvary, half concea^d i in the clouds raised by the horses' hoofs. , Hartmann recognized them in a mo^ ment. They were Uhlans. jj A scene too common in those days folf lowed. The few straggling Franc Tireurs who occupied the place were speqdily e put to flight, but the armed villagers from roof and windows continued the skirmisn. As the Uhlans galloped along they rode down the affrighted men and women who ' still lingered in the stieets; then, pausing in the market-place, they aimed with ' their pistols at the figures who fired at them from above. The filing grew fainter ' aud fainter; only every now and then there was the crack of a riHe and a wild 8 shriek or cry. Dismounting, some of the , Gormans.forced their way into the houses to unearth the hidden enemy. Tho3e J they found had short shrift. 6 a lir l-nnivinn Tl'Vinf. lift did. Hftrt t kjvaivoij auv oiuq ? ? ? ?, ' mann descended the hillside. Troops of panic-stricken men and women rushed y past him, making for the shelter of the cliffs. Ho "was standing close above the e highway, when he perceived just below 0 Lim a scattered group of cavalry follow, ing the fugitives at a hard gallop. As they came up they reined in, wild and 8 covered with dust, nnd he recognized ? among them his brother officer Yogel, who ? had been with Ihem when he tirst encountered Blanche de Gavrolles. e 1 Me nailed mm m me trerman tongue, x Vogel looked up and uttered an amazed ? cry. "Hiinmel! It is Havtmann?alive!" 9 Hartmann nodded and descended to the L road, where he shook hands with his com. rade. "Where the thunder have you been?" i growled Vogel, wiping his brow. "Wo . gave you up for dead." "I escaped, as you see." a "Well, there is no time to ba lost. We , must get out of th.s as we came. Mount 1 up behind me; there, give me your hand." "I cannot. I am a prisoner on parole." 3 "Parole or no parole, now is your ' chance. Como before the French devils ' return upon us in force." 2 "It is impossible," answered Hartmann. y 'Away with you. I Bhall not break my a vord." a o ha cnnVo a lftro-A hndv n? French in i, -r-"- - ?o rf ? e fantry were seen approaching along the highway at the rear. Hartmann turned - and hastened up the hillside under the e shelter of some trees. He heard the word e of command, then the clntter of horses' Q hoofs and the Germans had disappeared, i Fortunately for him, he was not pero ceived by soldiers of the advancing body. They passed by rapidly, every now and 3 then pausing to tire at the retreating e Uhlans. In a few minutes Hartmann reached e his former point of vautage, close to the . little chapel. Here he paused, and, look|t ing down, saw the French soldiers throne;,r ing the market place, while the little body b of German cavulry, now sadly decimated, o galloped until they reached the farther heights. Ho entered the gate and passed into the shadow of the woods. As he did so be board a sound as of a foot crushiue the I bruslnvooil amon? tin? trees at his"side. y lie pauseu ana iooKea in the direction or "i tbo sound, but saw nothing. Reassured, u b/moved slowly on till he came in sight t of the chateau. Behind and on each sido of him the rt woods stretched dark and gloomy. Close " to him was the trunk of a fallen tree; he [. sat down, thinking. Suddenly ho seemed " | to hear a sound again, ns of some one 5. I moving in the wood close to him. He turned " i his head, and this time saw, glaring from <] I th:- foliage, what seemed a pair of human I eyes. e | The next moment thore was a flash, a shrirp report. He staggered tu bis feet, r and, with a low cry of pain, fell forward y upon his face. < HAPTEN XI. e BLANCHE S VIGIL. ' The shot was heard from the chateau. Some of the servants, standing on tl.e terrace, saw the German fill; but fully a j quarter of an hour elapsed before any one came to his assist.)nee. Then old Hubert, 0 trembling like a leaf, and looking on eve-y side or him as if fearing a vagrant bullet, came cautiously to the place, followed by several women. As they bent 1 over him in horror, afraid to touch him, Houzel the keeper came striding along the q path and joined them. Curiously enough, ne was unarmed. "Halloo!" he cried, gruffly, "what is the matter?" . "See for yourself," answered Hubert, I. trembling in every limb. "It is the German! Some one boa settled hiB business at la6t." ;t Houzel knelt down, raised the prostrate s form and turned the pale face to the light. The eyes were glazed and half-closed, and v* a thin diop of blood was oozing from the it bearded lips. "lie is done for. as you say," muttered e j the keeper. "How did it happen?" - I No one could tell; nil the servants knew * ' w-'ik that they had noticed the German sitd ting far down the woodh-nd path, and h ; suddenly saw him start up and fall simultaneously with the report of a gnn. >f "The smoke came from the bushes yonie dor!" cried Hubert. "Some one is in hiding." " Tho keeper, without hesitating a mo* i ment, ran off in the directiou indicated, J and was soon forcing his way among the e ; tree-; and pushing aside the branches. He came back, lookiug uale and auitated. "INooiio is there; but mere has Deen fighting down youder in the village, and perhaps Fume of our people picked him off us they went by." "No doubt," nnswered Hubert; "but what is to bn done?" Ak he spoke a scream arose from the wonjen. ; "."ce. he is moving!" they cried, L Ilaitma 'n'? eyes had opened as he lay 1 face upward, and he was moving his head from side to side. Houzel went white as j dea b - 1'es. be lives! tut it is nearly over!" tne Keeper cnea, eagerly, ?s if the wiuU were father to the thought. Just then another figure joined the group?Father Andre?flushed and breathless from hastening to the chateau with news oi' the skirmish in the villnge. Di- " reetly he saw the state of affairs he ordered the German to be carried instantly into the chateau. i They carried him slowly to the house, i 1 Father Andre himself assisting. As they entered tne nail wnn tueir oumen j>iancuo met them and uttered a cry of horror. "Who has done this?" she demanded. "No one can tell," answered the core. "There has been fighting yonder; that is all I know." ( "He is dead!" she moaned, bending i over Viim j ' Her tears fell npon nis race. Then 1 carefully and silently they carried him up-6tairs and laid him upon the bed. ? They had scarcely done so when a light s foot was heard upon the stair and Dr. a Huet entered the room. t "What is the matter here?" he de- ( manded. The story was soon told. Bending over \ Hartmann the Doctor made a hurried ex- i amination. \ "This is an ugly business. I fear there t iB no chance for the poor fellow this time, a He has been shot through the back; the j bullet is lodged in the pleura, close to the j heart." As he spoke he stripped off his coat and ; rolled up his sleeves. "He breathes still," he continued. "Bring me hot water and some linen quickly." It waB Blanche herself who hurried away to seek what was required. With a face white as death, but seemingly otherwise unmoved, she stood calmly by while the Doctor did his terrible work i ?probed for the bullet and dressed tha wound; and when all was over the Doctor j and Blanche stood facing each other, : I while the young officer lay motionless | upon the bed. "Tell me the truth, Dr. Huet," said Blauche, in a terribly calm voice. "You thiuk he must die?" "Yes, I fear so now." "Tell me what to do," persisted Blanche, "and I will watch." ? Dr. Huet led her quietly aside. "Keep watch, then, through the night, since you are quite determined. Now, {. take this phial. It contains a valuable ' anodyne, which has already, as you have seen, greatly soothed the patient. Give him ten drops of this?ten drops, you will remember??in a little water ever thirty minutes; that is to say, twice in the I hour." j "I understand?ten drops." "Yes. If you should see him sinking suddenly double the dose?give twenty? 1 eve a thirty?till he breathes as easily as g he is breathing now." t "I understand." 3 "If you sbould miss one dose, or quit his side for only one short hour, I will not ; answer for his life. If you Bhould fall 1 asleep " I "I shall not sleep," said the girl, firmly, r.s if under inspiration. "Angels of T love will bo watching with me. If my ; j woar eyes should close for a moment, \ . their Holy w;ngs will touch them tenderly j ana brusi. mtrn open. i He looked at her quietly for a moment; ] then he said, shortly: ' j i "Good night, Mademoiselle 31anche, j and God bLss yon!" ; "Good night.Dr. Huet. You will come , in the morning?" "I sbnll be here early?that is, if you do ( j not send to me during tho night to say ; 1 that our pat cat is do-.td." i f Andh^'tf; ti e room. < Blanche turned to i'ue bod. Hartmann, | who wus still uucods- ov.s, w''h moaning, aud m.'.tterin* to himself iu the German ( jngne. alio gill's eyes il'led with tear* ? Quietiy approaching the bedside, she tool 1 the hand whi hlav rpon r:ie coverlet and t I pressed it to lier lips; thin, fearful lost he ( ! should be sinking measured ten drops of | tbe anodype. and gently. yet almost by I force, placed the glass to his lips. He drank unconsciously, and after a few min- j ] I utes his breathing giew calm, and he lay : i I as if ;n a d( ep sleep. The old housekeeper entered the room { I on tiptoe. | , "You will cot remain here, mademoi- | selle?" she said. "Go to your bed and rest. : I will watch here till morning." But Blanche was firm; having once made up her mind to do her duty, she was resolute to fulfill it. After a little time she dismissed Dome Fcvereau for the night, first peeing that everything was placed ready in the sick-room. Not without many protestations did tho old woman yield; but at last, seeing that heryonng mistress was resolved, she unwillingly took her departure. The nicrht-light was placed burning in the sh dow of the drtssing-table; the 1 phi;:l containing the ano'lyde, with a couple of glassnp of water, was set readv, and Planche seated herself quietly by th# bedside. [TO BE CONTINUED.] I How to Remnin Young. f Take frequent recreation. I Preserve the feelings and habits of | youth. j i Keep free of intense excitements. j j Keep a clear conscience and lend a ! life void of offense. Insist upon an abundance of regular sleep. A man cannot long keep young who gives up all 'he active, health-giving exevcisc.-j oi oath. It is the intense excitement, the excitement of social Hfe, the hallroom .he theater, and the various, forms oi fashionable dissipation, that j make our American girls fade so rapidlv. I "Within the memory of a multitude of living people it was tlio custom oi Americana upon all festive occasions to boast that "America was the land oi the brave and the home of the free," and they rejoiced over each ship-load I of immigrants that reached our shores. 1 ; But times have changed. There is no I , longer any rejoicing over the incoming ; : multitudes, but a sober reflecting on ( how immigration can be reduced in I quantity. The immigration for the j current year will doubtless reach more . 1 than 600,000. Over 400,000 reached i the port of New York alone. Those ! that have been returned as unfit foi | citizenship are so few as scarcely tc j deserve notice, while the numbei ! whollv lacking in all essentials of the I Ameiican citizen were ui.doubtedlj j greatly in the majority. "What will ; happen if this class continues to poui j in upon us and increase with the years ! it is not uiflicult to surmisn. Ik a man will let his children be ! idle, he should not wonder that they j get into mischief, and do something to j disgrace him before they pet through. J All the men who ever amounted to I anything had to work almost as soon ! as 1 hey could w alk. If nine out of ten j of the boys and girls of 12 or 15 years had to sum up the work they do through the day, it would not amount to more than two hours at the most. The rest of the day is spent in idleness, and idleness is the foundation of trouble. No one ever amounted to anything by having a good time, but that seems to be the greatest hope i most parents have for their children. | MEXICAN FOOD. ! rHE QUEER THINGS UPON , WHICH PEOPLE WAX PAT. fortunes In Pulque?A Wonderful Plant and Its Product?The Hotels and How They Are Kept. ( "Writing from Mexico City, Frank G. Carpenter says in the Washington Star: j ifou can buy beer all over Mexico for a sent a glass, and there are a thousand icensed shops in Mexico City. The city jets $1000 a day revenue from these bops, and 250,000 pints of this liquor ire sold here every day. This makes wo tumblers to each man, woman and hild in the capital, and the consumption hroughout the remainder of the country s proportionately great. The Mexican )eer is called pulque. It is made from he sap of a cactus plant of the same pedes as the century plant. This grows n Mexico to a height of from eight to ifteen feet.' It is made up of great jreen leaves, which are a foot wide at the v A PTTLQTE STRIFPEIt. >ottom, and which are often eight inches I :hick and eight or ten feet long, 'i nese eaves start up from the ground around a rreen cone, which is a foot at the base ind which ends in a point as sharp as a needle. It takes about, ten years for this ;one to grow to its proper size, and if it s left a flower grows upon it and the )lant after blossoming dies. Just before blossoming, however, it is early for pulque making. This is done >y cutting the cone out of the plant, and ;his leaves a great bowl in the plant ibout as largo as a two-gallon crock, into this bowl the sap of the leaves run n streams, and each plant will produce xom eight to fifteen quarts of juice per lay. It continues to yield this amount 'or six months, and one plant will prolucc barrels and sometimes hogsheads of iquor. This liquor is natural beer. It lows into the bowl as s A*eet as sugar and :lear as crystal. After twenty-four hours, howevet, its :olor has changed to that of ikimmed milk. It has begun to ferment ind it tastes like butter milk. It begins t \o smell and its odor and strength in- { :reases as it grows older, so that for a i jlock around a pulque shop you have the , >mell of a limburger chcesc factory and i pou can shut your eyes and find tho : saloons by your nose. This pulque is raised in big plantains. There are tens of thousands of teres of the plants growing near Mexico Dity and one railroad receives a thousand , dollars a day for carrying pulque into ihe capital. I traveled for miles through ' 1?i-i: J T ;nese puique pmamuuus auu x own i Indian peons gathering the liquor. Each nan had a bag of untanncd pigskin on lis back and the juice was drawn from ;he plant into this by means of a long jourd, which acted as a siphon. The Indian would poke one end of : :his gourd into the hole in the plant and j suck the air and the juice out and then ! iurn it into this dirty pigskia bag. These j jags were made of the hide of a whole aog and some of theai looked as thougu they were not more than two or thtve days old. The legs and mouth ef thu skin were sewed up, and when the bag was full of the liquor these wobbled lbout, making the bag look like a live animal. The pulque ferments in these bags. In them it is carried into the :ity and it is served either from them o:- : from barrels. : ^^ j ~ I & . *y\ PTLQUE TEDDLKTl. The pulque shops are fouud in every Mexicau block. They are open from early in the morning until 6 o'clock at night, and at this time thej arc closed by law and are not opened again until next morning. Mexico has excellent police regulations in regard to the peons or common people. The pulque shops are patronized chiefly by them, and you find less disorder in Mexico at ni^ht than in aDj other city of its size in the United States. The high-priced saloons, which sell all kinds of liquors, are kept open until miduight and later, and I hear the billiard bulls clicking and the rica foreigners and well-to-do Mcxicaus carousing in the Iturbide barroom early in the morning and all day Sunday. The pulque product, however, is the most profitable of any liquor production in Mexico and many of these pulque plantations brine: in Irom tea to twelve thousand dollars a year. I Icno .v of one man who gets $200 a day from his pulque hacienda. The pulque plant is one of the mo.it useful plauts in the world. Its liber makes excellent tiireud and the Aztecs use its thorns for needles. They thatch their houses with its leaves and in the days of Oortez they made paper out of it. This paper was like papyrus and there are old Aztec manuscrints in existence wiiicn were made in this way. A number of other liquors in addition to pulque arc produced from the plant, and in one district a brandy called mescal is produced from it, and tequila is another liquor, much like Scytch whisky, which i comes from the maguey plant. The leave? of this plant contain thousands of tibre3 and these make the strongest kind Di cadging ana ropes, wmcuure equunu i strenirr.h to linen. Before I came to Mexico I was told that I would lind nothing good to eat in the country. Every one said that the hotels were horrible acd my friends patted their stomachs and looked at" ma with commiserating eyes. They said that everything Mexican was a mixture of red pepper and grease and that the only good hotels in the country were those kept by the Americana who had gone dpwn there. I ventured into the land with fear and trembling and at fiist patronized the American hotels. I found them dear and nasty. The cooking was abominable and the service was worse. I then tried a Mexican hotel and found it excellent. Some of the best meals I have ever had I have eaten in Mexico, and I oKoll nnf onnn o rlinnop of. TnlllAft. OU?UI UVV UV"" , where a pretty Mexican boy gave me a dinner of tea courses and where the cuisine was equal to that of a good Paris restaurant. Throughout Southern Mexico I found splendid hotels. They were often kept in old monasteries, and at Zacatecas I Blept in a big room off a cloister where the door was four idches thick and the key weighed a pound. One end of my room opened out on a garden, which constituted the center of the building, and every night I could walk around this in the moonlight and see it soften the outlines of the great Moorish dame of the monastery which looked down upon me. The cooking here was good and the same was the case at Guanahuato. The Mexicans serve their meals one dish at a time in table d'hote style, and they begin dinner with soup and end it with beans. The wuiter at the hotel brings a bowl of soup co you and you ladle out as much as you wont. After soup you have half a dozen different kinds of meat and vegetables served separately and you close with a dessert and colfee. Mexican frijoles always form a part of the meals. These HAVE A BRISK, SENOR. are pronounced freeholies and they are j rm Mexican Diacs Deans. .mejr tuc aupcnui to the Boston baked beans and every one eats them. They are never eaten on the day they are cooked and they are always served in great abundance. They close the meal as rice closes a dinner in Japan, and I suppose the idea is that the men who has not enough of other things can fill up on beans. Only the better classes of Mexicans eat meat, and one of the great fields of American investment is in the packing interests of Mexico. Earn and beef bring high prices and the meat business of the city is managed by monopolies. Good beeves are worth from $25 to $50 a head, and there is more mutton eaten than beef. A great deal of the beef />nmoa fmm Oiiflnfihuato and the meat wagons of this city are mules. Take one of the greasiest, dirtiest mules you can find and fasten a frame work of books to a saddle on his back. Let this framework extend about a foot above the mule and on the hooks hang the halves and quarters of beeves so that the blood drips from them on the ground and ?0 that where the mules are small the meat almost touches the ground and i you have the Mexican butcher cart of the mountains. The butcher or meat peddler wears a great blanket about his head and his feet arc bare. If you buy a quarter of beef he will carry it into your house on his head, and if you want a slice he will hack off a piece for you and charge yon about tne same ior me neck ns the loin. The Mexicans sell every part of the animiri, and in every market you will find little cook shops in which shreds of beef arc fried and offered for sale. These are for the Indian customers, who stand about and eat the greasy morsel with their fingers and without the use of knife, fork or plate. Io Mexico City the butchering is more carefully done and beef is comparatively cheap. You can get a roast for eighteen cents a pounu, but pork is more expensive. The pork business of Mexico City is controled by - nndn millinnti out f)f ?1 JlfAiUib, nuv uuo juituv ~ it, and he" is now putting up one of the biggest packing houses in the world. He has his agents all over the city, and he imports his hog3 from Kansas. Mexico is the land of the fry. Nearly every kind of meat is cooked in lard and the consequence is that lard is very high priced. It costs thirty-one cents a pound, and i? largely takes the place of A MEXICAN' MEAT TRAIX. butter. It is very hard to find good butter in Mexico. That made by the natives is largely from gouts' milk. It is white and is dressed without salt. A smart American has started a dairy in Mexico City. He has Jersey cows and gete from S5 cents to ?1 a pound for his butter, and proportionately as high prices foi his milk. You lind good chickens all over Mexico, and there seems to be plenty ol! game. Chickens are peddled around i/ coops on the backs of men, and now ant then you will see an Indian with perhajf* two dozen tied together by ttie legs and 1 J /xtrn* oKnill^AM TTo rrAAO Wi f K I these from hou3e to house and sells them. ^ Eggs are sold in the market in little piles gj of four to the pile, and not by the dozen, (j as we sell them, &ud I note that in some 8j places the eggs are packed in corn husks for shipment. Everything in the Mexi- ^ can market seems to be sold in piles, and I can find no standard of measurement except the eye. There were piles of ^ four tomatoes, of six little potatoes, of a Q| handful of red peppers and of other like Q] things around each peddler, and these j0 peddlers were Indians, and the Indians w seemed to be the marketmen of Mexico. ^ They carry their wares ior miles into ^ the city on their backs, and a dollar's worth of market stuff is carried for days cj in order that it may be sold here. The ? buying is done in the same picayune "j way as the selling, and this city of 300,- ^ 000 people lives from hand to mouth. I t don't believe there is a cellar in the t whole town, and every morning the servants go to market and buy enough for " the day. They buy for cash and before g going to bed you have to leave enough silver with your servants for the morning marketing. It is not lashionable for ^ ladies to do their own marketing and everything is bought by the servants. ^ The result is that housekeeping in Mexico is very expensive, and between the prices charged and what the servants steal the outlay is even greater than it is in the (l United States. The Mexicans themselves live much, more cheaply than we do. The morning meal even among the richest classes con- ^ sists of only a cup of chocolate or coffee, with plain bread or sweet cake. The cj Mexicans eat this by dipping it into the chocolate and they often take this meal g( in bed. Coffee is served in your rooms . at all the hotels if vou desire it. and if I _ you live like the Mexicans you will find u your charges much less. The second ^ breakfast is served at twelve or one o'clock, and at this all the family sit ; down, and it is really a dinner rather than a breakfast. Soup is always served ^ at it, and the Mexicans have a hundred ^ different kinds of soup. The evening meal is eaten about seven v o'clock, and at this the family meets as T at the second breakfast. No work is c done by any one in Mexico for about two hours after this midday breakfast,and the business hours here are from 9 to 12, 4l and from 3 to 6. Between 1 and 3 the j whole city sleeps or gossip3, and after 7 ^ o'clock you will find none of the stores ^ open. Mexican bread is almost altogether made by the bakers, is fairly good and , tastes very much like the French bread. I have not had a waffle nor a griddle cake since I came into the country, and I look in vain on every bill of faro for hot biscuits and pie. I do not find the e Mexican dishes half as hot as they are b painted, and I doubt not but that their 61 cuisine is fully as healthful as ours. tl ? A An Equine Giaut. * There are many beautiful things in this world, but to the horseman the thoroughbred is a thing of joy and t( beauty forever. Even tho ordinary citizen, whose knowledge of horseflesh is c limited to the fact that the animal is j possessed of four legs and a tail, is moved j ^ to admiration at a thoroughbred's spirited j . action and superb outlines. Blood tellg ^ in every move of the magnificent body | and commands involuntary homage, j ' . I Detroit's eqodje giant. I There is in Detroit at present aa equine I thoroughbred which is pronounced not c only the handsomest, but one of the \ largest horses in existence. He is in I truth a ffiant. and the veriest novice in | ? I horseflesh could not but view his size j c ! and beauty without a certain feeling of i \ awe. This colossal unitnal is live years f | old, and is twenty-one hands high, c j weighing 23G5 pounds. An ordinary sized inan cuts but a small figure beside s him. He is a dark chestnut in color, j j with superb mane aad tail. He is owned ! i by Richard Tregaskis, and can trot in ! a j four minutes. j s It seems a pity that there will be none j of his progeny. He was imported from , France by a Kentucky horse breeder, j who paid $5000 for him. When put in j { the stud the animal became a veritable | ( j fiend. He would kiclc anrt bite on tne ; j ' slightest provocation, and no oue could | ] | do anything with him. lie soon killed j f j oue attecdant, and a short time after i j ! another man fell a victim to the vicious j ^ brute. The death of these two men j t causcd the owner to change the animal ! j ! into a gelding, and with good effect, bis i x - j i j temper being greatly linprovcu 1SCUUCW i | ; Free Press. I j ? 1 ; Subtleties of the English Langnare i : fl , ^ | I .^'j^riacida Symperthy (to D'Ulthud, j ! just fallen out "of the tree)-- i j y5id you hurt yon?'' ! j t D'Ultuud?"Who 'n the dickens d' | -?e think I hurt?"?Puck. j j ? j f The oldest ex-Senators of the United JStates now living are James W. BradI bury of Maine and Alpheus Feleh of '< Michigan, who entered the Senate in December, 1S17. Hannibal Hamlin took his seat in the Senate in June, 1848. The porter of the Grand Pacific Hotel, in Chicago, has retired with a fortune of $100,000, accumulated from tips given j him by guests of the house. : S heT Handle Their Watches With Cawj- . One of the stories of the rapid rise andll ,* ecline of the cow baroa owes authors- v lip to Colonel Jim Briiton. In tita - < ays when Texas had a railroad conusis-j onership, with only ornamental fancnno Pnlnnpl Rrittnn was annointed to - 11 it. He discovered the lack of law to i lake the office in any way efficient, and* mt in his resignation, saying that he -1 id not care to draw a salary for doing! othing. There is not another instance! : this kind of conscientiousness in the ;tter years of pie-eating Texas. But - ; bile he was commissioner Colonel Brit in went to Abilene. The time was thei ash period of the cattlemen. Million- i res were thick. At one of the "Ex-' . \ langes" of Abilene Colonel Britton wa? - | witness to a controversy between two; JI the new millionaires. These cattlel ' irons had just returned from their first ips to New York, where they had gonei > get rid of some of the cumbersome! * rotits and to have a royal time. "Jim," said Jake, "that's a prettjj j ne watch you've got there." ] ' "Yes," replied Jim, "I got the ticken * t a fellow in New York. I reckon it'# le finest in Abilene." "Well," continued Jake, drawing onq :om his pack at, "here's a better one. "r "Reckon not." said Jim. "What'ffl. oura cost?" "Paid $325 for her," said JakeJ What'd you give for yours?" "Cost me $350," answered Jim, witl*. triumphant grin. t Jake was blue over the discovery thaie didn't own the costliest watoh in Abisne. He stood holding the now despised tiron&meter in his hand and looking afl . Bracing up after a few moments he! lid: "There ain't much difference beJ ?reen em. But I'll bet I can throwj line further than you can yours. '* Everybody laughed and looked at Jim.j 'he latter was not to be bluffed. Quick] 3 a flash he replied: "I'll just go yoil. ne on that." The crowd went into the rocky street.] l scratch was drawn. It was agreed thatbe man who threw his watch furthest bould have what was left of bothl. ratches. They threw, and the fellow? rho won led the way back into the exchange and set up the drinks. j "A few months afterward," saidColo-j el Britton. concluding the narrativei 'I was back in Abilene. I saw Jake ana im. Each had a Waterbury, and whene pulied it out of his pocket he held id x both hands for the fear it would drop] n the floor and get hurt."?St. Louuj rlobe-Democrat. j A Musing" on Longevity. The oldest man probably since ilathus-.' lah was a Tyrolese peasant, who vra*orn in the seventeenth century, ancH irvived the storming of the hostile and) iie downfall of the French monarchy.') l visit which he made to Paris is de-l :ribed by Carlyle in his history of the* 'rench revolution. 3 He was granted almost as striking anj vation as was Voltaire on his last visit { o Paris. How checkered the experience of a4 entenarian. If compiled, what a olume they would make! What a lending of smiles and tears! what a amble of tragic and comic scenes! what mixture of pathos and pleasantry 1 But greater still the manifold experiences of a man who lived nine hundred nd sixty and nine years. Is the scrip-j ural chronology at fault? If we remem-j ier that the Hebrew writers had neitherf irabic nor Roman numerals, we see how; aistakes might have occurred. "We may form some idea of the im-r sense longevity of Mathuselah, if we) ompare his age with that of the British} mmVn Thn nld Hebrew oatriarch/ '"i'""* ? [light have fought at Hastings in 1066, nd lived on until the last Plantagenet ros entombed at Westminister. He rould have been in the prime of lifer luring the War of the Rosea, and mightj lave witnessed the funeral obsequies oil Slizabeth, the last of the Tudor line.) le would have been but little past mid-1 lie life when Marlborough fought ana ?on at Blenheim, and when Ajine of Denmark, the last of the Stuarts, gavqj pay to the house of Hanover?aud . thus, in and on until now he would be some* vhat gray and wrinkled, and yet in a< air way to see the close of the twentieth :entury. The brain reels under the weight of; uch a computation, and we are dis^-' josed to thank the gracious One that iow fixes four score years as the limit of! i man's life-pilgrimage.?Atlanta, Con litulion. J Telepathy. A young married lady related to me he following remarkable experience of his kind: Shortly after hor marriage she -3 ? V??ioKonr3 tn TnrKfl,_ 1QU accU!ii[jaiiiuu uv;i uuguuu^ .v --!t fras toward the end of the mutiny,; md she was separated from him?he bong about forty miles away, and, as she )elicvcd, in great personal danger. For be first time in her young life she was eft alone. One night, on retiring to rest, eeling far from well, depressed, too, by he sense of loneliness and by anxiety on ler husband's account, eh9 "could not lelp crying," and fell, as she thought,' nto a troubled sleep, in which she' Ireamed or fancied that an elderly, (entleman who had shown them nuch kindnes3 on their first arrival in India, but who was then C3iding at a considerable distance,) jntered her room, and approaching the: jed, said, "My dear child, I know well .vhat you arc suffering, and, believe me, [ feel deeply for you," and that he itooped down and kissed her. Though juite aware, she said, that it was merely i vision, she felt greatly consoled. The mutiny ended, she was with her ousbaud in Calcutta at an evening party, " tt^shich she met their friend. He exjressea pleasure at seeing her again liter a l<3^r interval. "It is not so ong," she relied, "since I saw you,'! ind she describe^he vision. With expressions of the utmost astonishment, ho declared that he himself had-had a similar vision, or rather dream. "I dreamed that I saw you crying and tried to console you aud kissed you."'?Bluciicood'i Magazine. T!ie Most Powerful Wor'xer. Darwin used to say that the most powerful worker we know is the earth worm. Without the earth worm we could not live. Earth worms make the soil fertile. According to Darwin's calculations, each particle of the earth to a depth of two feet is brought up to the surface at least every hundred years. But this estimate is too low. It has recently been calculated that this renovation of the soil takes place every twenty-seven years. There are from 150 to 200 worms in each square yard of earth ten inches in depth.