The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, October 21, 1874, Image 1
A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. X. WEDNESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 21, 1874. No. 42.
~1E HR A LD
IS PUBLISRED
jCVERy WEDNESDAY MOBINING,
At Ne'wberry C. Hf.,
BY TH09, Ft GUKNHRt
Editor and Proprietor.
r~rns,$2.5Oper JnnAll)
invariably in Advance.
f?-The.paperis ltopped at the expiration of
ti-e6r wickit is Wed.
rr The X mark denotes rxPimtiOul Of sub
kcrd)tiou.
A X&N WITH AN AIM.
Give mea'jnan w ith an dim,
'Whatever that aim may be,
Miatherit's wealth or whether it'? f-'me,
P. matters not to me.
Lec"lin walk I,, the path of right,
An-3 keep bis aim in sight,
Aad work and pray in faith aWAY,
W-9t his eyes on the glittering height.
Give me a man who says,
-I will do something well,
A12;z makes tbe.:dLeting days,
A vtory of tabor tell;"
Th4jigh ibe gam he has be small,
le,~ j)ttier than none at all,
I z7ith something to do t1te whole year thro',
He %-W;otstumble or fall.
Gi-~e me.&. man w bose heart
1 Ie-wt ambidion'afirs;
W . sets his mark in the start,
Arid moves it higher and higher.
Be: zer to die in t1w strife,
11~ bAs with labo6r rife,
Than to glide with the stream tn an Idle~
dream,
And,live a.purposeless life
WI[TH THE ANGELS.
BY IS$SI. 3L CmEMPordiaG.
W*.ti2b awu&~gl now; no shadow dasks the
;adisqm of that brow,
Which lxrift passed the pearly gates, is
wkth t1fe angels now;
Tker.'form glows 'ueath the jasper light, and
soft her seraph feet
Are uveauig witb ecstatic bliss the gleam
-Ing, go1deu street.
~m not here, and do just what you
would do if you were alone."
to make a parade of his private feel sl
ings ; but 1 had seen him watch muy e<
darling's graceful, soft ways with an 1h
imconsciors smile dawning on his u
lips, and a light in his eyes that told T
a sweet tale to whoever might look h:
closely. And Bessie-the girl only
breathed in him, it seemed. I be t,
lieve she waked up thinking of him, b
and dropped asleep thinking of him, b.
and never ceased thinking of him, fr
dreaming or waking. I used to i
sigh, sometimes, seeing how utter- d,
ly her heart was in his keeping. p1
Bat not a word had she told me T
with those beautiful lips of hers. It n
was through her transparent face si
and actions that I learned all I knew ; il
and more credible witnesses could w
not be had. St
The two were not engaged; that sT
I was sure of. I did not believe that tc
there had even been any love-talk le
between them; that is, any that could S]
be reported. What eyes, and ac- ol
tions, and tones say is not to be put w
in words. They were in that deli- .
cate, perilous position, when the hap- ti
piness of two loving hearts is abso- vE
lutely perfect, and at the same time h<
most easily destroyed-that silent A
understanding which seems so sure, v(
yet may be lost through a look or a bl
word. g<
Arthur Blake was going away, I
had learned. He had got tired of
our country town, and fancied that o1
he would do better to get into prac
tice in London. There was nothing ot
to bind him to either place. He was ce
quite free. His nearest relative was w
an uncle, who would help to settle ea
him as a surgeon wherever he should di
choose to live ; and Arthur himself cc
had a little property of his own, and a
need not be in any killing haste, or m
afraid of taking a week's rest, and si
time to look about bE
This much had been told me that hc
very Wednesday morning, when I
was on my way to spend the day tr
with Bessie. -t
"But Bessie ?" I asked of my in- itc
formant. re
"I fancy that they are off," was m
the reply. "You know it wasn't an
engagement, perhaps a flirtation. in
At any rate, I saw Arthur walking es
out the other day with Julia Ray- ,w
mond ; and, at the same time, gt
Charles Rivers was making a cal di
on Bessie. Arthur and Julia pass. rn
ed the house, and saw them sitting
in the window." a
I went: on in a troubled frame of p
mind, thinking that this beautiful, er
sunny-sailing love affair. which had se
been the delight of my eyes, was per- st
haps running among the breakers ; ca
longing to interfere, yet fearing to,
since outsiders so often do more in
harm than good. And the moment fr
I saw Bessie's pitiful smile, I knew 10
that she was being torn on the reefs. w
''So Mr. Rivers came to see you A
the other night," I said, as we sat at
together in the afternoon, Bessie at se
one window, I at another, looking hi
out into the rainy street, and listen
ing to the rising wind.
"Yes," said Bessie, keeping watch, it
I could see, on the opposite house, m
not to lose sight of Arthur when he as
should come home. There would in
be.so few more comings home, fpr si
he was to go the very next day. tI
"I wjsh Mr. Rivers wouldn't come it
here," she said, after a pause; "I o:
don't care for him, but he seems to o,
want people to think I do. May be
he doesn't mean it, but it's just as si
provoking as if he did." r
I was turning over a photograph"
album, and stopped at a pictured d
face that give me a chance to say
something else I wanted to say. a
"This is a good photograph of e
Miss Julia Raymond; she takes well; p
her's is one of those faces that look si
best in a picture, because it is un- r<
changing; she has mere pretty fea
tures, but no expression." f
Bessie's face brightened a little, d
"Some people admire her very h
much," she said, faintly. a
"I don't know any one who does," ti
I replied, in a careless voice. t
Then there was silence ; I saw Ar- s
thur come home, walk up the steps t
of the honse without even looking d
across the street, go in, and pre- i
sently appear at the window of his li
room directly opposite us, Bessie t]
sat with eyes downcast, her color s
changing from red to white, her bo
som heaving with the tumultuous o
beatings of her heart, her poor little p
hands all in quiver.
The young man may have given t
a swift glance across, but it was S
only a glance. He closed oue of I
his windows, and, since the wind!
was now high, closed the blinds too, r
all but one half; and then he disap
peared. He had been wont to sit fI
there, and, with some pretence of a
reading a book in his hand, kept
watch on the girl over the way.- g
Both of them happy in that corn- li
panionship, though perhaps they
did not bow, even, to each other.
I looked at Bessie as the last blindI
was closed, and scarcely could re
ntrain an exclamation. so thale had
.e grown. For a moment, she seem
I on the point of dropping out o:
er chair. But as she did not lool
p, I kept silence. Poor child
hat shutting of blinds seemed tc
er, I knew, like shutting her out
The wind arose and beat thf
-ees, and twisted off leaves and
ranches. It shook the windows
inged the blinds, tore off slat(
om roofs, and carried it aboui
ke feathers. Underneath our win.
>w, it bent a street lamp off it
dt, and scattered ",he glass about.
here was a roaring in the chim.
,ys, a crash every moment, as some
ittter, skylight, or fence went b3
te board. From our sheltered
indows we looked out on the
orm; I with that interest which
ich freaks of nature are calculated
inspire; Bessie with the cold list
ssness of acreature half senseless;
ie never said a word, only glanced
i a piece of paper that lay on the
indow ledge.
After a while, I began to suspect
at Mr. Arthur Blake was not so
ry far away from the front of the
>use, as he would have us think.
glimpse of a coat-sleeve was
uch-safed me from behind the
ind that was half-shut, and 1 soon
> a comfortable assurance that
)t a look or motion of the pallid
rl at the other window was lost
L him..
While I looked, the wind rose in
e of its most fearful gusts; it
ught the maple tree under the
hndow, and bent its head to the
rth; it carried on its wings leaves,
st, tiles, slates, everything it
uld catch; it suddenly dashed in
pane of glass, and the next mo
ent it caught and carried out the
ip of paper on which Bessie had
en scribbling for the last half
>ur.
She started up with a cry, and
led to catch it back, leaning into
e tempest without a thought of
fury, wide awake now, and as
d as she had been pale the mo
ent before.
"Oh, what shall I do ?" she cried,
distress. "I have been writing
ery sort of nonsense on that. Oh,
at shalllIdo ? CouldlIget itby
>ng out, do you think ? I should
e if any one were to read it ! My
mie is written there."
The wind seemed fairly to laugh
it lifted the fluttering slip of pa.
r straight up in the air, then low
ed it tantalizingly again-, only 'to
atch it away from the two out
retched white hands that vainly
ught at it through the rain.
Some one besides me was watch
g. Arthur Blake was leaning
om his window (now open), and
oking over with eager eyes, thai
ere full of doubt of questioning.
ad he, too, watched the floating
orm on which, of course, he had
en betraying the wanderings oi
ir wayward thoughts.
It's my immovable belief that the
id was reading that paper whik(
held it suspended during the firsi
inute. For all the world it looked
though two invisible hands of an
visible winged creature held the
ip; then, with a whirl and a whis
a, darted across the way, flung il
to the opposite window, and flen
I to knock somebody's chimney
rer, or wrench away a skylight.
"Oh, what shall I do ?" cried Bes
e, standing in the middle of th<
>O, with her hands over her face
What shall Ido ? What shall]
As the slip of paper was flung ii
b his window, Arthur Blake grasp
1it, and disappeared a moment
erhaps it-~was not what is callei
~rictly honorable, but of course h<
aad every word of it.
It couldn't have taken him long
r in about three minutes the street
or of the house opened and on
e came into the storm; and, in spit'
f gust and missile, straight acros
2e street to our house. I heard
emendous peal of the bell, then
ep coming up stairs. And all th
me, there stood Bessie in the mid
le of the floor, with her hands ove
er crimson face, and her soft, tremi:
ng voice repeating over and ove
de helpless exclamation, "Wha
hall I do ?"
The door of the room was flimi
pen without a knock, and in step
ed the young man with the truan
aper in his hand, his beautiful hai
>ssed and drenched with rain, an<
uch a light face as gladdened m;
.eart to see.
"Bessie !" he exclaimed, ignoring
iy presence altogether.
She uttered a cry, uncovered he
ee one instant, covered it again
nd turned away from him.
"My own little Bessie !" he said
oing to her. "How could you bE
eve that I care for Julia ? She tol<
1e that you liked. Rivers ; but i
ras false, I know now. There, deai
wo' o odo' ra o
wont Io odon't aea ou
er.I roseladn'thlev fol"
T me nna withdrew from th
room, and neither of them asked mE
to stay. Moreover, neither of them
apologized for leaving me to enter
tain myself one full hour. But Bes
sie gave mc an awfil 1hugging, when
at last Arthur went away, and be
tween tears and smiles, whispered,
"That blessed wind!"
No matter what was written there
-w h at heart-breaking pleading,
what confessions. That wind knew,
and the lovers knew; and that is
enough. So much for the ill wind
that blew somebody good.
HONOR YOUR CALLING.
It is a good sign when a man is
proud of his work. Yet nothing is
more common than to hear men
finding fault constantly with their
particular business, and deeming
themselves unfortunate b e c a u s e
fastened to it, by the necessity of
gaining a livelihood. In this spirit
men fret, and laboriously destroy
all their comfort in work.
Occasionally a man fails in life
because he is not in the place fitted
for his peculiar talent; it happens
ten times oftener that failure results
from neglect and even contempt of
an honest business. A man should
put his heart into everything that
he does. There is not a profession
in the world that has not its pecu
liar cares and vexations. No man
will escape annoyance by changing
business. No mechanical business
is altogether agreeable. Commerce,
in its endless varieties, is affected
like all other human pursuits, with
t- ials, unwelcome duties, and spirit
ing necessities. It is the very wan
tonness of folly for a man to search
out the frets and burdens of his call
ing, and give his mind every day to
a comsideration of them. They be
long to human life. They are inevi
table. Brooding, then, only gives
them strength.
On the other hand, a man has a
power given him to shed beauty
and pleasure upon the humblest
toil if he is wise. Let a man adopt
his business, and identify it with
his life, and cover it with pleasant
associations. For Heaven has giv
en us imaginations not alone to
make some men poets but to enable
all men to beautify homely things.
Look at good things. Accept your
lot as a man does a piece of rugged
ground and begin to get out the
rocks and roots, to deepen and mel
low the soil, to enrich and plant it.
There is something in the most for
bidden avocation around which may
twine pleasant fancies, out of which~
may be developed an honest pride.
A man imparts to business a fa
vor of honor by his own conduct
which shall make it hereafter more
ereditable to any one who enters~ it.
Franklin left upon the printing of
fice an impress which has be.. .Atted
the profession of printers ever since.
Blacksmiths love to speak of the un
canonized Elihun Burritt. Once let a
man convert his business into at
instrument of honor, benevolence
and patriotism, and from that mo
ment it is tranafigured, and men
judge its dignity and merit, not by
what it externally is, but by whai
it has done and can do. It is bet.
ter to stick to your business, and
by patient industry and honorable
enterprise to crown it with honor,
than to run away from it, and tc
seek prosperity ready-made to yomn
hand. It is not what a man finda
that does him good, but what he
does.
HOM1E AFTER BUSINESs HoURs.
The road along which the mian of busi.
ness travels in pursuits of comnpetene
or wealth is not a Macademnized one
nor does it ordinarily lead through
pleasant scenes and by well-springs o:
delight. On the contrary it is a rough
and rugged path, beset with thorns
and full of pitfalls, which can only be
avoided by the watchful care of eir
'cumspection. After every day's jour
ney over this worse than rough turn
Spike road, tihe wayfarer needs some
thing more than rest; he requirel
solace, and lhe deserves it. He is
weary of the dull prose of life, and i:
athirst for poetry. Happy is the
rbusiness man who can find that solace
Sat home. Warm greetings from lov
ing hearts, fond glances from brigh
eyes, the welcome shouts of children
Sthe many thousand little arrangements
for our comfort and enjoyment thal
tsilently tell of a though ttul and ex
Lpectanit love; the ministrations thal
disencumber us into an old and easi
seat before we are aware of it; thes<
Sand like tokens of affection and sym
pathy constitute the poetry which re
Sconciles us to the prose of life. 'Think
of this, ye wives and daughters o:
business men. Think of the toil, th<
Sanxiety, the mortification, the wear
that fathers undergo to secure for yot
comfortable homes, and compensatt
them for their trials by making then
happy at their own firesides.
I"And now," said a political orator
Swarming up as he approached the
climax of his speech, "let us conduel
the campaign, fellow-citizens, upor
Lthe principle enunciated by the im
mortal Lincoln, 'With malice towari
eHll and charity to unona"
A WHALE CAUGHT BY ATE
EGRAPH CABLE.
We published some time ago
drawing of a portion of the Sinf
pore ocean telegraph cable, whi
had been pierced and injured byt
lance of a saw fish. We have hE
to chronicle an accident of a si
more extraordinary nature, by whi
the Persian Gulf cable was brokE
The particulars are given in Enga
eering:
"The cable between Kurr~ac
Gwadur (a distance of about 3
miles) suddenly failed on the evE
ing of the 4th of October. T
telegraph steamer, Amber Witt
under the command of Captain BiE
op, with the electrical and engine<
ing staff under Mr. Henry Man<
proceeded on the following day
repair the damage, which, by tes
taken at either end, appeared to 1
118 miles from Kurrachee. T]
cable was successfully grappl<
within a quarter of a mile of t]
fault.
"The soundings at the fault we
very irregular, with overfalls fro
30 to 70 fathoms. On winding
the cable unusual resistance was e
perienced as if it were foul of rodl
but after persevering for some tim
the body of an immense whale; e
tangled in the cable, was broug
to the surface, where it was fow:
to be firmly secured by two and
half turns of the cable immediate
above the tail. Sharks and oth
fish had partially eaten the bod
which was rapidly decomposing, t]
jaws falling away on reaching t]
surface. The tail, which measur
fully 12 feet across, was perfe<
and covered with barnacles at t]
extremities.
"Apparently the whale was,
the time of entanglement, using t
cable to free himself from parasit<
such as barnacles, wh:ch anni
whales wery much; and the cat
hanging in a deep loop over a su
marine precipice, he probably, wi
a fillip of his tail, twisted it rou
him, and then came to an untime
end."
This is, without exception, t
most extraordinary 'accident th~
has happened to any submarine<
ble which has come within o
knowledge, although many strani
accidents have arisen. In one ca
the cable across the river Yar,
the Isle of Wight was brok<
by a bullock, which, falling ov<
board, gbt entangled in the cab
finally breaking it.
A Pscm-noN OF Punr.-Robe
son forcibly states a great and p:
cious truth in the following pa:
graph:
Marvelous is it how innocex
perceives the approach of evil, wh
it cannot know by experience, ji
as the dove, which has never se
the falcon, trembles by instinct
its approach, just as the blind mn
detects by finer sensitiveness t
passing of the cloud which he et
not see overshadowing the sun.
is wondrous how the truer we 1
come the more unerringly we kn<
the ring of truth, can discern whel
er aman be true or not, and c
fasten at once upon the rising lie
word and look and dissembling a
wondrous how the charity of Chri
in the heart perceives every abe
tion of charity in others, in ung
tle, though slanderous tone. H
shall we recognize truth ? What
the test by which we shall kn<
whether it comes from God or na
Christ says: "My sheep know mn
Wisdom is justified of her childr<
Not by some lengthened investig
tion, whether the shepherd's dr<
be the identical dress, and the st
he carries genuine, do the sheep:
cognize the shepherd. They kn
him they hear his voice, they kn<
him as a man knows his friend
they know him, in short, instincti
ly. Just so does the soul recogn:
what is of God and truth. The
is a something in our souls of G
whiph correspcnds with what is
God outside of us, and recognis
it by direct intuition ; something
the true soul that corresponds wi
truth and knows it to be truth.
all matters of eternal truth the s<
is before the intellect ; the thin
of God are spiritually discerne
you know the truth by being tru
you recognize God by being 1
~him.*
There are now four competit<
for the title of Nathan murderer.
These parties should be hung upi
their own confession and give oth<
a chance.
.Value the friendship of him a
stands by you in storm; swarms
insects will surround you in si
shine..
Why do women talk less in F
ruary than any other month Bec
is the shortest month in
* 3ear.
A
L- HISTORY OF TOBACCO
USING.
a The tobacco plant is a native of
ra- America. It was introduced into Eu
ch rope after the discovery of the new
he world by Columbus. It was first
re used in Spain and Portugal, and
ill afterward introduced into England
ch by Sir Walter Raleigh. It was.soon
.n. after carried into France, Germany,
n- Russia, and Italy.
In Russia the use of tobacco was
ee prohibited under penalty of the
00 1 bastinado, for the first offense, loss
n- I of the nose for the second, and de
he privation of life for the third. In
h, Italy, all who used tobacco or snuff
h- in church were excommunicated.
r- In Switzerland, all uiers of tobacco
e, were punished by the magistrates
to as criminals. In Constantinople,
ts a Turk was led through the street
be with his nose transfixed by a pipe
ae stem, as a warning to all smokers.
d The Shah of Persia treated tobacco
be using as a capital crime. James I.
alsomade earnest effort to suppress
re the traffic in tobacco, placing heavy
m imposts upon it.
in A brief glance at a few statistics
x- will show how enormous is the
:s; amount of tobacco raising and
t, using at the present time.
n- In 1858 tobacco cost England
ht more than $40,000,000.
d In the year 1860, it cost France
a the .same sum. Last year, it was
lY estimated that tobacco cost the
er English people more than bread.
Y, The United States annually ex
1e hausts in culture of tobacco 400,000
2e acres of its richest soil, and employs
3d 40,000 men, women, boys and girls
:t in its manufacture. In 1842 the
ie amount of tobacco used in this
country amounted to seven pounds
at for each adult person.
2e Holland has 1,000,000 sallow, ca
' daverous looking people engaged
V7 in the manufacture of the various
le forms of tobacco.
b- The present annual production
th of the weed is estimated by reliable
id authoritiesat 1,000,000,000 pounds,
1Y which musl cost the consumers at
least $500,000,000.
at' LONG ENGAGEtMENTS.
ur Great as may be the inconvenien
ge ces attending early marriages, they
.se are not to be compared to those at
in tending long engagements. The po
mn sition of both partiss, in a manner,
r- the reverse of that which they will
le, respectively occupy in after-life.
The lady commands, the gentleman
obeys ; and when tlais state of things
rt- has lasted for any length of time, it
*- is no easy matter to restore them
ra again to their natural state ; for al
though no woman of sense who re
.ce spects her husband and herself,
h will ever wish to domineer, no man
st of spirit would submit to it, yet the
en precise limits to which authority
at may fairly be extended on the other,
an are so ill-defined, that it requires
he very often great tact and manage
n- ment to adjust the balance; and this
It difficulty is naturally increased when
e- the parties have been for a long
'W time playing directly contrary parts.
Eh- Lovers, too, are naturally living
an in a state of complete deception and
in hypocrisy, in most cases probably
ct; quite unintentionally; but where
ist there exists a strong desire to please,
ra- there must also necessarily exist a
31 strong anxiety to keep one's faults
)in the background, and exhibit on
is ly the most pleasing part of one's
)character. Half the unhappiness
tithat exists in married life is we be
e. lieve, attributed to the difference of
31. discoveries that they are constantly
fa making or the great differences of
as disp'ositions before and after marri
aage. Then comes accusation of de
re ception-very unfairly, for, as we
" before said, the fraud was an invol
w untary one, and inherent in human
ts nature; accusations are followed by
erecriminations, an all temisery
ze and bitterness of married strife,
re merely because the lovers expected
od to marry angels, and find out that
of they are united to human beings
:es like themselves.-M.
(th A BADn MAN.-The Detroit Free
In Press tells of a man who sat down
>ul to one of the eating stands in market
.gs and called for seventy-five cents
d ; worth of "the best in the house." It
*e; was handed to him, and made peo
ke ple's eyes hang out to see him eat.
He was about a half an hour at it,
And when he got up remarked that
>rs he had forgotten his pocket book.
- The woman grabbed a butcher-knife
on and started for him; instead of run
ers ning away he laid his hand on her
shoulder and whispered: "Be calm,
and above all don't excite me. My
ho fit comes on regularly every day at
of this hour, and I get wild, kick, bite,
in- yell, and tip over things. 1 feel it
coming now. If there's a policeman
in the market go and get him, and
eb- let him take me to the station right
ise away before I kill somea one!"
bhej She ran to get an offieer, and the
an ran the other wna.
PROFITABLE POLITENESS.
The Boston Traveller, in com
menting on the prevalence of rude
ness tells the following incident that
happened some years ago: There
was a very plainly dressed, elderly
lady, who was a frequent customer
at the then leading dry goods store
in Boston. No one in the store
knew her even by name. All the
clerks but one avoided her and gave
their attention to those who were
better dressed and more pretentious.
The exception was a young. man
who had a conscientious regard for
system. He never left another cus
tomer to wai. on the lady, but when
at liberty he waited on her with as
much attention as though she had
been a princess. This continued a
year or two until the young man
became of age. One morning the
lady approached the young man,
when the following conversation
took place:
Lady-"Young man, do you wish
to go into business for yourself ?"
"Yes, ma'am," he responded, "but
I have neither money, credit, nor
friends, nor will any one trust me."
"Well," continued the lady, "you
go and select a good situation, ask
what the rent is, and report to me,"
handing the young man her address.
The young man went, found a capi
tal location, a good store, but the
landlord required security, which
he could not give. Mindful of the
lady's request, he forthwith went to
her and reported.
"Well," she replied, "you go and
tell Mr. - that I will be respon
sible."
He went, and the landlord or
agent was surprised, but the bar
gain was closed. The next day the
lady called to ascertain the result.
The young man told her, but ad
ded, "What am I to do for goods ?
No one will trust me."
"You may go and see Mr.
and Mr. -, and Mr. -, and
tell them to dali on me."
"He did, and his store was soon
stocked i.ith the best goods in
the market. There are many
in the city who remember the
circumstance and the man- He
died many years since, and left a
fortune of $300,000. So much for
politeness, so much for civility, and
so much for treating one's elders
with the deference due to age, in
whatever garb they are clothed.
A NAKED BRfDE.-At the cen
tennial celebration at New Fane,
Vermont, the address was deliver
ed by Judge C. K. Field, the well
known anecdotist, and among the
stories told by him in it is the fol
lowing, as given in the Montpelier
Argus:
By a strange perversion of legal
principles it was supposed by our
ancestors that whoever married a
widow who was administratrix
upon the estate of her deceased
husband, represented insolvent,
and should thereby possess him
self of any property or thing pur
chased by the deceased husband,
iaould become an executor de son
tQrt, and would thereby make him.
self liable to answer for the goods
of his predecessor, Major Moses
Joy became enamored of Mrs.
Hannah Ward, widow of William
Ward, who died in 1788, leaving
an insolvent estate, of which Mrs.
W ar d was administratrix. To
avoid the unpleasant penalties of
the law, on the morning of her
marriage with. Major Joy, Mrs.
Ward placed herself in a closet
with a tire-woman, who stripped
her of all her clothing and then in a
perfect nude state she thrust her
fair, round arm through a diamond
hole in the door of the closet, and
the gallant Major clasped the hand
of the buxom wvidow and was mar.
ried in due form by the jolliest
parson in Vermont. At the close
of the ceremony the tire-woman
dressed the bride in a complete
wardrobe which the Major had
provided and caused to be deposit
ed in the closet at the commence
ment of the ceremony. She came
out elegantly dressed in silk, satin,
and lace, and there was kissing all
around.
An honest old farmer, on being
informed the other day that one of
his neighbors owed hlm a grudge,
growled out, "Ne matter; he never
pays anything."_____
Nothing appeals more to the sym
pathies of a kind-hearted person
than the spectacle of a starved dog,
sitting on a ragged ed xety
waiting for a bone.
'The success of Josh Billings is
exceptional. There are thousands
of young men who do not know
how to spell, and yet they are not
worth $250,000.
- - - e . - -
On the ragged.edge of.despair
-h.o ihahlei h eto
Th ebowts or ei teseto
Ma me imwnera.
A CU- RIOUS LEGEND.
A new Indian agency betwe(n
Grand river and Fort Rice, called
Standing Rock, derives its name
from a large boulder standing out
alone upon the prairie about three
miles from the river. There is a
strange superstition connected with
this rock, and the Sioux City (Iowa)
Journal thus tells it:
'"Many years ago a powerful band
of Indians made that section their
stamping ground. The chief of
the band deserted his old wife for
a young squaw. This so grieved
the old Queen that she went back
to the river and sat upon the ground
and mourned for several days. Up- 0
on the 9th day of her grief she turn
into this large boulder. The In
dians at that agency all believe this
story to this day, and worship the
boulder as a god. The rock has
been decorated with ribbons, pieces
of red flannel, and every high-color
ed piece of cloth they have been
able to get hold of since time out of
mind. These decorations are re
placed as often as they become de
cayed or blown away by the winds.
At the time of our visit it was trim
med in the most gorgeous trap
pings imaginable. Every portion
of it was covered with either rib
bons and rags or paint. Within a
few inches of the sacred stone is a
pail of water, which is never allow
ed to become empty; for it is the
belief of these ignorant people that
the old Queen of their ancestors
frequently assumes the form of a
squaw and drinks the water. In
former years she drank much more
than at present, they say; but this
is easily explained. Then there
was more game there, which, -in
wandering to the pail, drank the
water. To disturb this bucket or
any portion of the trimmings of the
petrified squaw is considered a great
offence against the Great Spirit, and
is pinishable by death.'
HOW To GET RID OF RATS.
You may bring an enemy into their
camp if you choose. Shut up. a
number of rats in a cage together,
and leave them without food. In
process of time they will'eaT eail
other until all but one are eaten,
and this may be let loose. He has
got such a strong love for hi8 can
nibal diet that, in a very short
space of time he will clean your
premises, and then, in the end,
take himself off in search of '*fresh
fields and pastures new."
Or, another plan of biting the
biters is to catch them by means
of a baited balanced valve, in a
large and deep tub, half full of wa
ter, with a.n island in the center.
This island is just large enough
for one, and in the morning all
but the strongest will be found
dead or drowned, he having pos
session of the "solitary eminece."
This is a little French joke.
Or, if you are more mercifully
inclined, you can let them off with
tierely a shock to ,their nervous
system, as follows : Catch a cou
ple of big ones, and tar and feather
them. They will run and squeal
and squeal and run, and they and
their scared fellows will quit your
pxremises.
You may also mortally disgust
them as follows: Cover the floor
near their holes with caustic pot
assa; they will get sore feet, and,
licking their feet, will get sore
mouths; they will call their friends
into council, and with one accord
avoid such an unhealthy domi
cile.
SERVED HIMi RIGHT.-A Mr. E
one evening visited a young
lady, and as he removed his over
coat. ete, preparatory to entering
the parlor, the lady overheard
him utter the following remark:
Taking his over-coat and hanging
it up, he said, "Hang there, you
fifty doilar over-coat." Pulling off
his gloves and putting them on1
the table, "Lay there, you five
dollar gloves." Placing his hat
on the rack, "Hang there you ten
dollar hat." Putting his cane in
the corner, "Stand there you fif
teeo dollar cane." Then entering
the parlor he was about to sit
down, when the young lady pulled
the chair from under him, and as
she left the ro'om said, "Lay there
you ten cent fool." He has not
been seen around that house since.
"Thou rainest in the bosom," was
the remark of a Lothario when his
fair one threw a basin of water over
him for "cater-wauling" under her
chamber window.
A Boston Court has decided that
if a woman lends money to her hus
band she cannot get it back The
decision willunot be new to many
wives.
It isalmost asmuch a si toshut
Go'ssnsMine out of your hous
as to shut his Bible QUt.
- ,.
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TermsCash
TRIFLES! TRiPi;3kSj-l=!
aid t~he pony to thelea
hook his head andlaW,'i~f,
6bout and away they alL fia*,
"Dono't, I say," he Cctdi~
nofneD to aniotber-placiig. t"*
ioped ho should losetes,
o he did for a minute,ort
~long4er. Therev they EL
ais eves, on his nosq 4t
mnd all over him. . 4~
If he could have-eateAIL~
ie would, or kicked,then,~
ext country he-vrotdd,'.
d thema out of 'the wiirldb'
wut there was 'no doing .-;
vith them. As, he. 140.
aoved; an deverytim#bftK
:d to graz,-, they:etI
elves on him, or b~4n
'ound his head, 4
o*me by iavitation.'.
"Oh dear-!",- he, .ig1o
whatistobedonl-~
fly master's, whip a"d s
taud my bin,- f --W
leath over the CoDutrL~4
heav '. cart-Lhoe a
aake up nm VMA4toilb.
relpingeaur comes.b ;
an give -him.,
ends him flying; bnt- Wai-".'"
orments .temi' -
6re-too small t
-I verily believe.t~y
Loathof me" RPY
~y to the wretch who playedit~& -'
t would bave been mor~no~I~