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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j ^n $nit{itni)tnt ^amilj ftetospaptr: Jfor Ijre ^romotian of tjje political, Social, ^griraltaral anil Contmcrciaf interests of fjit jsonfji. |terms--$2.50 a yeah, in advance. VOL. 27. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 31, 1881. NO. 29. wri tttt?n tttttftwi?r mummj i lmm_ ?_j_?h^t ehh She ftarg Seller. THE VILLAGE BRAVoT Nearly every country village has its "Bravo." We do not mean "An Assassin," nor "A man murderer for hire," as Worcester explains the word ; hut we mean the man before whom all others must give way?the man who can "whip anybody in town"?the great big animal who thinks his position enviable, ? and who is envied by men with little bodies and little brains. Our village had its bravo, at all events, and a perfect type of his class he was, too. His uame was Jonathan Burke, though I never heard him called Jonathan but once, and that was before a justice's court. Jack Burke was his tmme, "the world over," as he often said. He was a bi<r, burly fellow, six feet and two inches tall; with broad, massive shoulders, great long arms, and a head like a small pumpkin. His face was characteristic. A low, receding forehead, and a small pug nose; thick heavy lips, and a broad, deep chin. His eyes were of light gray, verging upon a cat like green, while his hair, which was short and crisp, was of a burnt, sun.dried color, neither red nor flaxen, nor yet of a dark hue. The only feature of the whole man which tended to detract from Herculean proportions was the flat, or rather hollow appearance of his breast. To one skilled in anatomy or physiology, it would have been at once apparent that he had but little of what is generally denominated "bottom," and that a long continued physical effort would have reduced his "wind to pant." Jack Burke was born and reared in our village, and ever since he had begun to go to school he had been the terror of all unlucky wights who had chanced to cross his path. He beat his companions without mercy, and took great delight in beiug feared. As he grew older he became more insolent and overN bearing, and at the time of which we write he was disliked by all the decent people of the place. His voice was loud and coarse, and it broke in on all circles which might be gathered near him. And then this bravo did not possess the spirit of generosity usually betrayed by those who happen to be giants in strength. He was, on the contrary, low and mean, taking delight in tormenting the weak, and even laying out his whole strength on those not half his size. In short, he was a coward as well as a bravo. He forced himself upon all our little gatherings, and seemed to delight in stalking about and realizing that none of us could put him out He was now twenty-two and forgetting all useful knowledge he had ever gaiued at school. Among the recent accessions to the population of our village, was a young doctor named William Grauby. He was a small, palelooking man, not over five feet ten inches tall and quite slim in frame, but the man who studied him closely would have seen that his paleness was the result of long confinement to his studies, and was more, after all, a delicate fairness of skin, than a want of health. And it would also have been seen that his slight frame was a very muscular one. and most admirably moulded and put together. William Granby was what the girls of our village called a handsome man, and noue ot the youth of our village envied him the flatterjng encomiums he received from that portion of our community, for as we became acquainted with him we loved him for the manly and generous qualities we found in him. He was a warm friend and a noble opponent. 4_J n 1? L_J J u: if ^luu vjriauuy tiau jnuvcu uiuiacii au auic physician, too; for though he had been in our village but a year and a month, yet the confidence reposed in his skill was far greater than had been reposed iu the ancient blisterer and phlebotomist that preceded him. One day some of us went into his study ; he was unmarried, but being only three and twenty, of course was not a bachelor?we were invited in as we walked by his boarding place, and were pleased to accept the invitation. His study was a gem of a place for comfort, and among the articles not absolutely necessary for the study of his profession, we detected a rifle, a pair of foils, a pair of heavy wooden broad swords, while upon the floor were a pair of dumb-bells. I wondered what these were for; surely not for the doctor's use, for I could do nothing with them, save to hold them in my hands, and ? swing them about at an angle of about fortyfive degrees, and I was much heavier than he was. I asked him what he did with them. "Oh," said he, smiling, "I exercise my muscles with them," and as he spoke he took them up and raised them at arm's length, and there held them for some moments, his fine breast rounded out like a Roman cuirass. Then he threw them up and out, and around, handling them as though they were mere toys. It seemed impossible that so small a body could contain so much strength, but he assured me he had gained it all by practice. He had labored for years to develop a muscular sysi tern, in which he had been lacking when a a child. And he also said that keeping his muscles well hardened and developed, he was better able to bear the fatigue of his profession, which called him from his rest often for several nights in succession. We were makini? arrangements for a erand picnic in our village. The girls were busy j making pies and cakes of all sorts and shapes, j while we youths were preparing two tables and clearing up the grove, which was just outside of the village, on the bank of the river. The day at length catue, and the sun smiled from a cloudless sky, and a fresh breeze came sweeping up the river, bearing a grateful coolness upon its bosom. We reached the ground in due season, and only one thing came to mar the pleasures of the occasion. Jack Burke made his appearance upon the ground, in a shabby, dirty suit, and with an insolent swagger. A chill ran through the whole crowd. Many of us would gladly have helped put him away, but we shrank from meddling with one who was so strong and gigantic, and withal so reckless aud merciless in his wrath. We saw the thin, delicate lips of the doctor quiver as he noticed the filthy fellow swaggering about, but he said nothing then. One of the party was a youth named David Singleton. He was a quiet, good-hearted fellow, and 'beloved by all. He waited on Mary Livingstoue to the picnic. Mary was a pretty blue eyed maiden of eighteen, and that she loved David right fondly, we all knew just as well as we knew that David loved her. It so happened that Jack Burke had offered on several occasions to wait upon Mary, and she had as often peremptorily refused him. He had professed to like her, and had made his boast that he would have her yet, and if "David Singleton dared put his arm in the way, he would drop him !" On the present occasion, Jack was not long in seeking Mary's side. David was nervous and uneasy. He was a light, smallframed youth, and looked with dread upon the giant who sought to annoy both him and his fair companion. Mary asked Burke to go away, and as she spoke she turned shuddering from him. "I shau't go away," the burly brute replied, "and if you don't like it you may lump it." "Come, Mary," said young Singleton, trembling, "let's leave him." "You will, eh ?" cried Burke, seiziug Mary by the arm and drawing her back. The affrighted girl uttered a quick cry of alarm, and Singleton started to his feet quivering in every point. "Miserable brute," he said, "let hergo !" In an instant Burke jumped up and swore he'd "whip the youngster within an inch of his life !" In an instant all was alarm and confusion, but in the midst of the clamor arose a clear, clarion vol."1: "Stand back! Stand back, every one of you! Back, I say, and give tue room !" The way was quickly cleared, and the young doctor leaped into the open space, his bright eye burning keenly, his face flushed and his tine form stern and erect. "Fellow !" he thundered, "leave this place! Take your foul presence hence at once.! Do you understand ? What a miserable coward to insult a girl! Shame ! Shame ! But go 1" For a few moments Burke was completely dumb founded. There was something in the tone and beariHg of the man before him, and in the strangely burning eye that beamed upon him, that awed him for a while. But he measured everything by its weight and size, and the courage of the brute soon eame back to him. "Who are you ?" was the first remark, at the same time shaking bis bullet-head threat eningly. "I am the man who ordered you to leave this place ! Your presence is very offensive. You were not invited, and if you had any decency you would not be here !" "Look here, my fine dandy," hollowed the brute, "just yo.: say I ain't decent again, and I'll spile that lady-like face of yourn, almighty quick!" There was a quiet smile upon the doctor's face as he replied : "Your course now shows that yon are devoid of all decencv- A decent man would not stay where he knew his presence was offensive !" With a fierc* oath Burke raised his huge fists and dartec forward. We would have interfered, but Granby sternly ordered us back. Still w< were fearful. What could the small, gent emanly physician do with a giant? But we were soon undeceived. Upon Burke's first advance, Granby slipped to one side, and with a quick motion of his foot, caught the giant's toes, and seDt him at full length upon the ground. Like a mad bull, Burke sprang to his feet, and while, curses showered from his lips, he started upon Granby as though he would annihilate him at once. Caltn and serene the young doctor stood, and as the brute came up, he adroitly raised his left elbow, and passed the huge dirty fist over his shoulder, and in the same moment planted bis own full upon Burke's face with a blow that knocked him completely from his feet. That blow sounded like a pistol, and was given by a man who knew how to throw all his power to the best advantage wherevjr he wished to put it. Jonathan arose like one bewildered, and so he was. But in a few moments he recovered his senses, and leaped toward Granby again. This time the doctor performed a feat as surprising as effective. Like a thing of steel and wire and finely tempered springs, he jumped up and forward, planting both feet upon the giant's breast! Burke fell like a log; but bis breast was heavily boned, and he was soon on his feet again. "Look, ye!" cried Granby, sternly, "you have seen enough of me to know that I am not to be trifled with. Now, go away, and you shall go unharmed, (save that one black eye.) But if you trouble me more, I shall most assuredly hurt you. I have given you warning." "I'll lick you afore I go, if I don't?" We will simply say that the remainder of this sentence was composed of fearful oaths, and that while they were yet quivering upon his lips, he clenched his fists and darted forward. This time the doctor received him in a new fashion. He stopped every blow which Burke madly and clumsily aimed at him, and began to rattle in a shower of knocks upon his face, and breast, and head, and arms, and body, that soon completely bewildered him. On they came, heavier and heavier, thicker and faster, each one cracking like a pistol, and planted exactly where it was aimed. In a very short time, Burke was not only exhausted, but his whole body above the waist was beaten till the flesh was black and confused. He bellowed like a calf for mercy. "Will you leave the ground at once ?" demanded the doctor. "Yes." "And will you promise never to annoy Mary Livingston again ?" "Yes." "Then go!" Like a whipped cur, as he was, the fellow left the ground, and when he was gone the young doctor, who had not even got a scratch, cried out in a ringing, happy tone? "Come, boys and girls, now to sport. I'll go and wash my hands and then join you." Ere long the cloud was gone, and the day ended amid cheers and smiles, and happy songs. Everybody might have been jealous, had everybody wanted to, for everybody's girl flirted and made love with the doctor, j for everbody loved him, and honored him, and so everybody was not jealous. Withiu a week, Jonathan Burke left our village, never to enter it again. He couldn't j stand the sneers and gibes that were cast upon ; him, nor could he bear to see those who had witnessed the summary punishment he had re- ' ceived. It was a glad day for our village j when he left it, and the doctor never gave i a more effective nor a more valuable purge 1 | than he did when he purged the place of that j ' incubus. Ou thing more: Within a week every ! ....? ..:n?? ?e ,1.1...k i I JWUUg mail 111 UUI Village lia\| a |;ou \ji uuiuu I j bells, and such another swinging, and dinging, and ringing, and flinging of cold iron for the ! development of muscle was never seen before or since, I venture boldly to assert. : 8?"* A Washington dispatch says : "The indications are that the wonderful woman, i Myra Clark Gaines, will devote the remainder of her energy and such portion of her j vast estate as may be necessary, to save her ! son in law, Christmas, from the legal consequences of having killed her own son, Whitney, in this city, Saturday evening. The j sympathies of Mrs. Gaines are very manifest! ly with the loving son-in-law, who seems to have been much more a son in fact, and a much worthier member of society, than the dead man. It is a curious sight that is now witnessed at the old Catacazy house, where the remarkable woman sits in her grief, surrounded by her six grand-children?three children of the murdered son aud three children of the murderer?sending a message to -the latter at the police cell that she will see ( that what the law can do shall be done for him. The latest evidence is that the fatal shooting is a better case of self defence than at first appeared. Whitney is now reported to have struck Christinas a severe blow on the back of the neck as he was descending the stairs, and to have immediately afterward placed his hand upon his hip pocket as if ! about to draw a weapou, meanwhile denounc| ing Christmas and his own mother in the vilest language. The case will be defended | by the ablest legal talent. This is the most | notable murder sensation in Washington since i Daniel E. Sickles shot Philip Barton Key. ! l^gisffUanfflttis finding. TRAINED ANIMALS. A SHOWMAN'S TWENTY-8EVEN YEARS' EXPERIENCE. "How long have you been in the taming and training business ?" asked a Chicago Morning News reporter of Willis Cobb, whose dogs, monkeys and steers are so prominent i a feature of Sells Bros', circus. "Twenty seven years, all in all," was the reply. "Why, you don't look older than that," responded the enquirer. "Perhaps not, but I was born in 1842, and shall be forty come next February ; but you see I sowed my wild oats when I was young, and haven't tried a second crop. * I never take liquor of aDy kind ; wouldn't drink a glass of cider if I saw it crushed out of the apple ; never accept a drink and never ask anybody to take one. If there's anything on earth a sensible animal detests it's a whisky breath." "And what made you take to training animals ?" "Well, I W88 a spoilt child, and my father used to keep a lot of black and tan terriers, which, on Saturdays, when I was about six years old, I used to take down to the levee to see them go for the rats, and I soon taught them a lot of tricks. Afler that I got a bull terrier of my own, and I made up my mind he should talk, and 1 actually taught him to say, 'Oh, no !" 'I won't,' and 'Mormon' almost as naturally as a human creature. I sold him to a horse dealer named John Carmon, who took him across the plains to California. Now, of all the dogs in the world to train, a bull terrier is the easiest; you can make them do anything. I next got hold of six German poodles, nine months old, and I taught them scores upon scores of tricks." "Is much cruelty required ?" "Cruelty? You just once try cruelty and make the dog afraid of you, and he will never be a trick dog. Kindness and patience are all you want, and every time you scold a dog you have all your work to do over again. Suppose you want to teach a dog to hold up one leg, just gently clip him on that leg with a snap of the fingers ; he won't understand at first, but when he does hold it up, pat him and speak kindly, then try it again, and hold it up, always using the same words : 'Go lame.' He gets the words and the action to-' gether in his mind, and never forgets either, and you teach him to walk by leading him round in the same way, always patting him when he does right." "Do vou denrive them of food or reward - j - ? 1 them with extra rations ?" "Neither. I feed my dogs three times a day, a light breakfast, a lunch after the matinee, and when the circus is over a good full meal. I've got ten dogs here, a Russian poodle, a Spanish poodle, English water spaniel a coach dog, and black-and-tans. The Russian poodle is my boss dog, and I christened him Bloss, after poor Bloss, who was killed while on the Cincinnati Enquirer, who said he was the cleverfest dog he had ever seen, but he couldn't read his copy. Old Bloss is tw've years old, and knows more than many a human. "My next trial was with two ponies, and two mules. The mules were for Dan Castello? I then taught a horse which I christened Fred Hunt, after another newspaper man. I played him through the country with the dogs, and then sold him to John Robinson, Jr. "I then took to training goats, which was no easy matter, but I taught two of them to fire a pistol, walk on their knees, lie down, sit up and make an ascension up a two inch plank to a pedestal twenty feet high. "But the worst animals to traiu are monkeys. They are cunning, lazy and vicious, and these scars," showing numerous marks upon his hands, "are the result of monkey bites. One big brute, that I named Jack Darwin, a tight rope and la perche artist, bit me through the ball of the thumb, and I carae very near dying of lockjaw. He took sick, and I nursed him night and day, but he died about four years ago. You are never sure when a monkey is going to turn on you, and their bite is more dangerous than a tiger's for they've got three-cornered tusks like a bayonet. "When I'd got my monkeys, goats ahd dogs I started a miniature circus, the first ever run in the world. Old Blosa was my clown, and a clevfrer never entered 'a ring, either on four legs or two. "About two years ago Mr. Lewis Sells sent for me to Columbus, Ohio, to know if I would undertake to educate for trick acts half a dozen steers. As I'd made up my mind there was no animal on earth I could not teach, I undertook the job, but it was a tedious one. I taught them separately, and it took me two weeks apiece even to teach them to walk into the ring as I wished them. It took a whole vear to make them what thev are. one steer and one trick at a time. And they were ugly, too. Once the whole six made a stampede after me, but luckily I was armed with a policeman's club and a big rawhide, and I cowed them. There's no appealing to the gratitude of a steer; now, a dog is open to any act of kindness, so is a monkey, and they will get as jealous as a woman if you pet one and neglect the other. "My dogs are not allowed to eat except at stated times. If one picks up a bone he is reprimanded for it, and he soon learns not to touch anything foreign to his allowed food. My dogs have a regular valet, who feeds, washes, combs, and dresses them, and when at home each one has his own little house and his exercise yard, and the valet has his quarters close by. When I want them to take exercise, it is running and jumping after a ball, which calls every muscle into action." "Now, if 41 man with ready money in his hand were to come into this rotunda and ask you to name your price for your dogs and monkeys, what would you-tuke?" "There isn't money enough in the United States to buy them. They are everything in the world to me. I was poor, after having lost a fortune; they have made me rich; these poor animals love me, and I love them. They have clothed my wife; they have educated my children. I have a lovely home, and they have bought it for me ; and they can earn me from two to three hundred dollars a week the year rouud ; and, useful or useless, young or old, halt, lame or blind, they shall have a good home while I live." "They all belong to you, then ?" "Yes, the dogs and monkeys are mine, the steers belong to the circus." "Did you ever try to tame any other aniI raals ?" "Oh, yes, I've traiued rats, mice, cats, pig' eons, and canary birds, but there's no money ; in them. I could tame tigers and other wild ! animals, but the danger outweighs the gain. ; You are never sure of them, and I have my i own opinion of men who trust too much j in their power over naturally savage brutes, i though you are safe enough in the lion's den | so long as you can keep your eye on him, and not let him get behind you. Once he does that and you're gone up." Popular Summer Drinks.?Now is the time to beware of the deadly popular "Summer drinks"?the butyric ether which passes current for pineapple in the foaming beaker of soda; the methyl, of coal tar; the fusel oil, rancid fat, succinic acid, the naphthaline, the oxalic acid, formic acid and the chloroform which go respectively toward the com poundiDg of the delusive lemon, apple, gooseberry, apricot, pear, orange, strawberry, grape and other flavors or essences that are distilled from those elegant sodi fountains in the drug stores or on the bestdocated street corners. As a matter of fact, the flavors you relish so much in your soda or your lemonade are all artificial, and made so closely to imitate the natural flavors as to defy detection. Your cider?unless you actually see it made from the apples?is little better, being a compound of honey, catechu, alum, yeast, almonds, cloves, burnt sugar and sulphuric acid ; your light Summer wines get their refreshing bouquet from the virtues oftartaric acid or amylic or fusel-oil ethers. On the whole it would puzzle a saint to know, not which is the best, but which the least unwholesome of our Summer beverages. SUNSTBOKE. CAUSE OF THE DISEASE?SYMPTOMS AND TREATMENT. A Washington doctor contributes the following timely articlq _on sunstroke to the Star of that city : , Sunstroke is known in medicine by the technical name of "Col's de Soleil" and is pronounced as though jf were spelled "Co dt Salale." The literal meaning is a stroke of the sun, and is similar in its effects upon the brain and nervous system to a violent blow or fall upon the head. Its effect is that of concussions or shocks, and for the time being suspends the functions of the brain, and renders the individual immediately insensible. The insensibility may terminate in either j gradual returning sensibility or in rapid death ; and a favorable or unfavorable terrai! nation depends upon the degree of the stroke I and the habits and constitution of the individual. The temperate are much less liable to suffer and die from it than the intemperate; and no single cause, operating upon those whose avocations and pursuits expose them to the direct heat of the sun, so much prompts or induces a stroke as intoxication, or the frequent and habitual drinking of alcoholic liquors while engaged in outdoor pursuits. Alcohol, of all known substances, possesses the greatest affinity for the brain; aud the peculiar irritation which it excites prepares that organ, in the most inviting manner, to receive an attact of sunstroke. The approach of sunstroke is foretold by an indescribable feeling of oppression and depression. The respiration becomes labored and deep. The face alternates with redness and pallor and presents an expression of fatigue and debility. The eyes wear a dull look, and the head feels hot, full and giddy, with occasional sharp pains in the temples. The heart grows tremulous, weak and sinking, and the pulse uunatural and irregular. A tired sensation pervades every limb, the hands slightly tremble, and the voice becomes faint and hollow. The muscular system of the whole body gives unmistakable evidence of an extraordinary degree of nervous depression, and if the warning proclaimed by these symptoms is unheeded by those who are exposed to the heat of the sud, and an effort is made to work off these bad feelings all of these symptoms are soon aggravated, and danger and death are imminent. The person instantly, and immediately becomes insensible. The premonitory symptoms last from half an hour to a day or more, and when prolonged they usually subside at night, and return during the day, when the cause is brought to act upon -the brain. When an individual is sunstruck he lies motionless and insensible. His pulse is feeble and irregular and the face wears the deepest expression of painful haggardness. The eyes are either partially closed or shut. The teeth are firmly set, and the power of swallowing is lost. If fluid is forced into the mouth no effort is made to swallow it, and it passes out at the corners of the lips. Respiration is sometimes attended witli a distressing moan, and the extremities become cold and are covered with a profuse and clammy sweat. Everything in his anoearance indicates immediate dissolu j "I" I tion ; but, fortunately, even from this extreme condition many escape death and are restored to health without either the mind or body being injured by the attack. The treatment of the premonitory symptoms consists in the individual withdrawing himself from the influence of the djrect rays of the sun, and in keeping his head cool by the frequent application of cold water to it. This, added to the quiet aud rest ot a lew days, will soon remove all the unpleasant effects produced by the intense heat of the sun. The means used for the treatment of an actual attack are fortunately very simple,, and easily applied in any place, and readily procured in almost every locality. The sufferer should be placed at once in a cool and comfortable position, with his head on a level, or a little lower than his body. Pitcherful after pitcherful of cold water should be freely poured upon the forehead and allowed to run over his face, and this operation should be diligently continued until evidence of restoration is manifested. Mustard plasters should be at once applied to the wrists and ankles, apd over the stomach; and as soon as the patient is able to swallow the least quantity give him at pleasure brandy and water, or whisky and water, or any other stimulant convenient. The effort to introduce fluids into the stomach usually gives rise to vomiting, which is no disadvantage, and as soon as the patient is able to swallow, however imperfectly, his restoration may be confidently expected in a period of an hour, or varying to six hours. It is thus seen that a sunstroke is not only evident in its approach, but well marked iu its character, and that any one can apply the simple and convenient means which are adapted for lis cure. In waiting the arrival of a physician some time usually | passes, and this time frequently makes all ! the difference between life and death. Tbere! fore, when an an individual is "sunstruck," he should at once have the advantage of the ! remedies used for his restoration; and any i one of his companions cau place him in a fiiimroklo nnoilinn nnlir rnld Wflt.pr linnil hIS | head, and endeavor to give him brandy and j water, and continue this treatment until the i physician arrives, who will take charge of | the case and attend it in detail. The Coming Crisis.?A London dispacth ! of the 11th says : "The Pall Mall Gazette in | a leading article headed "The nearness of a | financial crisis in the United States," argues j that the stability of the New York money j market depends upon its power to continue | drawing gold from Europe; the excess of ! exports over imports is not necessarily a sign ! of wealth. A nation that always exports | more goods than it imports is nearly always ! a debtor nation, and its excess of exports is ' needed to pay its debts. Whether the process I of expansion by drainage from Europe, which within the past two years has added sixtyfive million pounds to the circulation of the Union, is to go on depends upon the ability of America to control with its produce the ! markets of Europe. The indications are that the European harvest will be bountiful, j and that the United States will have to face ; great competition. Probably with very low j prices and with an overwhelming surplus I yield they might be able to do this, but should their surplus be, as many allege, comparatively small, the difficulties of their trade may well become serious. The article concludes as follows: "We think the position of the United States is not anything like so secure as the more sanguine Americans assume. They are just in circumstances where a financial crisis might develop with extraordinary rapidity. Some look for such a crisis in the coming autumn ; but we are by no means certain that it will develop itself then even. Should things come to the worst with their trade, the credit bubble may go on swelling for months beI m\n/l limo nfKon naiitlAMQ mPtl lnnk fnr trouble. Holders of United States securities, however, must pay their account for serious financial difficulties much sooner than the contemplation of the wonderful progress of the past three years might lead them to expect." SODOM AND GOMORRAH. The Nile it a sacred river, and the Tiber is famous, but the most sacred and most famous river in the world is the Jordan. From the beginning to its end, it has that mystical character which befits such lofty pretensions ; its life is the most vivid and complete, and its death the most sudden that can be imagined. It is torrential, and it leaves the flanks of Herman and the many fountains of its tributaries with an eager precipitation as if it bore a mission. From its greatest height, some hundred feet above the sea level, it leaps downward until it disappears in the Dead Sea, some thirteen hundred feet below it. It bides itself among oleander, tamarisk and willow and many an unfamiliar oriental tree, as if wishing to keep from profane eyes the secret of its errand. It does not stop long to overflow its banks and fertilize its valley, for it has a purpose too mystical to waste itself even upon acts of beneficence. It is only willing to become a living barrier between the desert tribes and the favored nation that loved it. No boat lives on its bosom. No fishermen dwell by its margin ; but it moves in one headlong column of sacred waters from its cradle of snow and cloud, !? .1 i .Ml*. ! ?__ _ nign id tne neaven, 1111 n cues in a laiai juse marked by the finger of God, and forever a subject for man's curiosity and reverence. It would seem a thing apart and not to be confounded with vulgar waters, which lose their personality in the bosom of the mighty sea, but exhaling to heaven like some holy messenger who perished in the fulfilment of his duty. Its birth and its death alike separate it from its sister rivers of earth, and only the voiceless mounds of perished and nameless cities, tribes stationary as if bidden to halt by somesupreme destiny of the past, or the awed and questioning stranger from the many Christian lands whose baptism drew its authority from the first sprinkling of its waters are seen i>pon its banks. And then we wandered through many whispering reeds, through a kind of jungle where sterility and the river had seemingly fought for the mastery, and which showed traces of both; a tangle of bushes as it were fighting their way up, and great spaces of barrenness which summer would scorch' to lifelessness. And at last the Dead Sea. Though we know it is of volcanic origin, and fed by mines of salt, the imagination now, as ever, is coutent to see in it a thing accursed. There was a fresh breeze and a reluctant lift and heavy tumble of its tiny breakers made them unlike other waves, but rather like those of Dante's infernal sea. There was a breath heavy with doom in the air, and we were fortunate it was not more stifling. Was it the breath of those lost or tortured there? And beneath that saline sheet did we not see, as in the picture of Delacroix, the agonizing and twisting figures of the condemned ? We did not bathe in the Dead Sea. Others have done so, and report of its buoy ancy the same tales that are told ot our own Salt Lake. There is a whimsical coincidence in the geographical relation of the Dead Sea and the hcfme of the earlier prophets, and Brigham Young's personal continuation of the old dispensation, with a private Dead Sea of his own in his immediate neighborhood. The poorest swimmer keeps his head above water; and persons have said to me that their legs seem to fly from under them. All speak of its waters as refreshing after the great heat of the tropical valley. Birds are said never to fly over it, which is the merest superstition, for they are often seen to do so. This lake certainly has a brand on it, as of divine vengeance. The waters are heavy with sin, the shores around blasted, and the very site of destroyed cities upon its banks unknow i. And here still are to be seen apples of Sodom, smooth and pretty to the eye and touch, of a pale yellow, like a small orange, but within, as Josephus says, still retaining the ashes of Sodom in living perpetuity of the divine puishment. They are like little oranges to the eye and touch, but when press ed are like oak-apples, and explode like these, a puff of air, leaving the shell hollow, with only a slender pouch holding fine filaments like silk, which the Arabs use as matches for their guns. WHAT IS NICKEL ? Since the convenient five cent coin which | In nnmmnn tollr ia nallorl "a nir>lfpl." hflfi i come into general circulation, the question above is asked either mentally or orally hundreds of times a day, and but few get an intelligent answer. In China and India, a white copper, called pack tong, has long been known, and has been extensively used both there and in Europe for counterfeiting silver coin. About the year 1700 a peculiar ore was discovered iu the copper mines of Saxony, which had the appearance of being very rich, but in smelting it yielded no copper, and the miners called it kupfer-nickel, or false copper. In 1754, Constadt announced the discovery of a new metal in kupfer-nickel, to which he gave the name of nickel. It was in combination with arsenic, from which he could relieve it only in parts. The alloy of nickel and arsenic which he obtained was white, brittle and very hard, and had a melting point nearly as high as cast iron. It was not until 1823 that pure nickel was obtained by analysis of German silver, which had for years been produced atSuhl, in Saxony. Its composition was ascertained to be copper 10 parts, zinc 5 and nickel 4. If more nickel be used the alloy is white as silver and sus i ceptible of a very high polish, but becomes too I brittle and hard to be hammered or rolled, [ and can be worked only by casting. Pure nickel is white metal which tarnishes readily in the air. Unlike silver, it is not acted on by the vapor of sulphur, and even the strong mineral acids attract it but slightly. Nickel has the hardness of iron, and, like it, has strong maguetic properties, but cannot be welded and is soldered with difficulty. Pure nickel has heretofore been used chiefly for plating, for .which purpose its hardness and power to resist atmospheric influences admirably adapt it. Within the last year the French have succeded in rolling the metal into plates, from which spoons and other table furniture may be pressed. Nickel bronze which consists of equal parts of copper and nickel with a little tin, may be cast into very delicate forms, and is susceptible of a high polish. Mines of nickel are worked at Chatham, Conn., and Lancaster, Penu., aud it is said to be found at Mine LaMotte, Mo., and at several points in Colorado and New Mexico, where but little attention is paid to it. It is extensively mined in Saxony and in Sweden, but the late discovery of a new ore (a silicate of nickel) in New Caledonia will probably suspend the use of the arseuica ores, and yet bring nickel into common use. Switzerland, I in the year 183*2, made a coin of German silver, which is identical in composition with our nickel coin. The United States made nickel cents in 1856, and eight years later coined the five-cent pieces. Belgium adopted nickel coinage in 1860 and Germany in 1873. i England has lately coined pennies for Jamaica, but at home she and France still ad1 here to the clumsy copper for small change. GUITEAU IN HIS CELL. kept in ignorance of the president's condition?his daily life. Washington, July 9.?"This is hell!" said Guiteau, peevishly, to-day, as he paced up and down his five-by-eight cell. Yesterday he asked a guard Jo tell him whether the President was dead or not, and if alive still, what were the chances of his recovery. No reply was made to him. He then declared that he would not tell anything more to any official who should visit him until he should be allowed to see the papers. There is general commendation of the course pursued in regard to Guiteau. What he would like would be that newspaper reporters should Kavto eonaoQ fn Viim fV\of Kia nniniAna anrl rlr\. ilMTV. av>vvoo 1>V/ HI LJU j bUUb Alio V/UlUiUUO uuu UV ings should bespread abroad and that heshould be allowed to feed his love of notoriety by gloating over the papers daily. Instead of this no information is allowed to reach him and no one is allowed to visit him, save the law officers of the government and district. This seclusion is the worst punishment that could be inflicted upon him, and he chafes under it. A company of artillery is stationed inside the jail wall, and a soldier is constantly on guard in the corrider in front of Guiteau's cell. One of the deputy wardens is also there constantly, but tbey are forbidden to speak to him. They are placed so that they could see and instantly frustrate any attempt at suicide or escape. There is ^10 possibility of his breaking out or of a mob breaking in to him. The outer wall of the prison is three feet thick. Within that is a corrider eighteen feet wide. Then comes another threfe feet of masonry, and inside this are the cells. NO FEELING OF REGRET. Gen. J. S. Crocker, the warden of the jail, said to a correspondent to-day: "Since he has been here he has never manifested any sign of regret or remorse* on account of his act. He takes a pride in the notoriety he thinks he has gained, and would like to talk about it constantly if he was allowed to do so. He was very inquisitive at first in regard to events outside, but no one was allowed to talk to him or give him any information, and he has stopped asking questions because he finds it is no use." "How does he pass his time?" "Time? He lounges on the bed a good deal of his time ; sometimes he walks up aud down his cell for exercise and he reads about half his^ time. After he found that he could not get hold of any newspapers he asked for some reading matter. I mentioned several books that we had here, but he did not care for them, and said be would rather bave a Bible. He was given one and said he would read it through by sections. I suppose he meant that he would start at Genesis and go straight through, as that is the way he seems to be doing. He said to me that he had been a close student of the Bible, and had once written a book called 'The Truth,' which he intended to be used as a companion volume to the New Testament. He said that he had published the work, but nearly the whole edition had been destroyed by fire in the printing house. He had rewritten and enlarged it, but had not been able to publish it again." "Did he say anything about his religious opinions ?" "He said that be was a Christian, but that he had some peculiar views of his own. He thinks that the second coming of Christ took place at the destruction of Jerusalem. He also holds that people at the present day get inspirations from God just as in the days of the prophets." Gen. Crocker s|id that there was nothing irrational jpi Guiteau's manner nr KoKnomr Hp rlianlava ft rptflntitffi mfimn ry. He has never shown any signs of fear over the consequences to himself of his act. Gen. Crocker once asked him if he wanted counsel, and he replied : "No; not at this stage of the proceedings." Although he receives no information, he surmises that the President is still alive*from the fact that be is not arraigned. THE GROWTH OF A CHILD. The Medical Record reproduces the leading features of the studies of Prof. W. Preyer, of Jena, in a field as yot almost unbroken? that is, in the psychological study of infants. This study begins, the professor says, with the observation of the movements and sensations of a child, then proceeds to note the development of the different senses, the formation of speech, etc., and the effect of all these things in awakening the intelligence. The first manifestation of voluntary motion occurs about the fourteenth week, when the infant begins to hold up its head. After fourmontbs the head is usually balanced well, and at ten months the power to sit up is acquired. Ability to stand was usually, in the cases j studied by the professor, gained suddenly at the end of the first year. The first grasping motion of the hand in the first quarter year is entirely reflex and mechanical, the first voluntary attempt to take hold of an object not being noticed before the seventeenth week. A child does not show self consciousness, a knowledge of its independent existence, until the second quarter of the second year. The sensibility of the skin of anew born child is very low, and it will give no signs of discomfort if it be pricked on the nose, or lips, or hands. The eyes, too, close slowly when touched, and do not close at all in the bath. An increase of sensibility, however, appears in a day or two after birth. All infants are deaf at birth, because the outer ear is closed and there is as yet no air in the middle ear. A response to a strong sound is observed at the earliest in six hours, but often not for a day or two. The awakening of the sense may be detected by the blinking which a loud noise occasions. No other organ is thought to contribute to the intellectual development of the child so much as the ear. The first perceptions are those of light. The infant shuts its eyes as soon as light enters them, within a week it turns its glance to the window, but it is three weeks before the eyes will follow a light moved befnro tKom IVi V VUVlUt The stupid expression on the child's face does not leave it until the second quarter year, and the face grows more human and spirited with the increase of the power of seeing intelligently. The power to distinguish colors follows that of intelligent attention, and light and bright colors are preferred, but the power to distinguish them by name does not come until the beginning of the third year. The recognition of form, size and distance comes slowly. In the first month the infant pays no attention to the swift approach of the person's hand to its face, and in the third year it will show ignorance of size and no appreciation of distance. The professor set down in writing every sound uttered by a child duriner its first two years, and which | o m could be so represented. At first only vowels are heard, but even in the first five weeks these sounds are so diversified as to express different feelings. Thus, the professor says, the periodically broken cry, with kuit eyes, denotes hunger ; the continuous whine, cold, and the high, penetrating tone, pain. The consonant m was heard in the seventh week, and in the seventh month, b, d, n, v, and, rarely, g, h and k were distinguished. Its perfect imitations of sound were heard in the sixth month, and at this time voices began to be distinguished by the child. Great progress is made in the imitation of sounds after the third half year, and the powers of articulation become well developed by the fourth half year. EVER CHANGING FASHION. Fashions change gradually. Unless they did they could not he followed, for suddenness, would demonstrate their absurdity. The revolutions that they make are hot obvious until they have been regarded through a series of years. The feminine mode of wearing the hair at present is a fair illustration. A good while ago, when the rage for phrenology had brought high foreheads into vogue, the hair was brushed back from the brow so as to exhibit it to its fullest expanse. The fashion was not pretty ; it gave women a bold, masculine, staring expression; but it continued with the interest in phrenology. Then women began to dress their hair reasonably, letting it shade the brow, as it ought to, instead of pushing it off as far as possible. They have of late been wearing it lower and lower, until many now hide their foreheads with it altogether. It is not uncommon to see well-dressed women wboee hair, natural or false, comes down to their eyebrows, while others-draw it forward in such profusion as to give them a grotesque appear* ance. Most of the New York women wao make any pretense to fashion look as if they had no brows, these being invisible on nccount of the peculiar arrangement of their hair. They are not content to depencT upon nature, either. They decorate themselves with front-pieces of divers patterns, and by their aid look as ill as they well can. If they knew how they looked in the eyes of good taste, they would, we are sure, alter the dreiising of their hair. Hiding their foreheads in that manner bestows on them a very insipid, ! not to say imbecile, expression. They might, with hair and eyebrows mingling, be mistaken for bleached South Sea Islanders, and candor compels us to say that the intelligence of some of their faces does not need toning down.?New York Times. The New and Old Version.?A middle-aged married man of our city thought he would trim the trees in his garden one Sunday, on the sly, but while he was sawing off a limb, hia wife, watching him from the window and telling him to wait till to-morrow, a gocd lady came along on her way home from church, and seeing him at work on the Sabbath day, was very much 'hocked. She called to him and wanted to know: "Have ycu ever read the ten commandments V' "Oh, yes, hundreds of times?know- 'em by heart, every one of 'em, and know I have broken the seventh commandment three or four times already to-day and expect to break it as many more times before the sun sets, for these tre* and bushes have to be trimmed and I'm in business from sun up till sun down on week days, and am too poor to hire it done." The lady started on home without saying another word and his wife roared out laughing, and he couldn't tell, for the life of him what was " the matter unal bis wife gave him the ten commandments to read. He did so and then wanted to know where she got the newly translated Bible. "It is not the new Bible you are reading, but it is the old one, and Mrs. knows the ten commandments as well as you know your A B C's. Now what do you suppose she will think of you?" Ee studied for a minute.* "Well, I'm as inno cent as a Iamb, I am, be gosh ; but confound the seventh commandment anyway, that's all I've got to say, and I know very well the numbers have been changed." The subject was dropped, but he knows one of the com. mandments now, you bet. _ How a Boston Woman Voted.?A very amusing comment upon a certain phase of the wotnan suffrage question is told by one of the tellers at a Boston city election, and vouched for by him as absolutely true. A woman well known in strong-minded circles came lo the polls vote in hand. Upon being asked her name she hesitated a little, but finally . concluded on the whole to give it. She seemed to have similar misgivings about an* swering an equally impertinent question in regard to her place of residence, but, in this matter also she decided to yield. The name Koin<-? stkosilror] nnnn liaf thp. Vntfir W S 1/VlUj' VUVVUVU Ui/wu duv *.? .. told to deposit her vote, which after examining the ballot-box with some curiosity, she did. She stood a moment .in an attitude of expectancy, and then asked : "Is that all ?" "Yes, madam," answered the teller. "Then, if that is all," she asked with some asperity, "why do men make such a fui<s about it?" The tide of voters, kept waiting by her do- , lay, became at this moment too strong for her and she was swept forward with her question unanswered. She lingered about, however, and in the first lull came back to the ballotbox. "If you please," said she to the teller, "I'd like to see that vote I put in there." "But you cannot," he said. "A vote can't be taken out of the box." "But I want to see it very much,'"she persisted. "What do you want of it, madame," he asked politely. "Oh," was the naive answer, "I want to know who I voted for."?Boston Courier. Capital and Income of Nations.?A ? rt TT 9 IV i.! recent numner or narpers magazine contains an estimate by Mrs. T. M. Coan of the wealth of the United States in comparison with tha t of other Governments. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland heads the list with a. capital of $44,400,000,000, with an annual average income per inhabitant of 816b. France has the second place in point of capital, $36,700,000,000, but is the fourth in the matter of average income, $125. The capiital of the United States is $32,000,000,000 ; * the average income $165. Germany has $22,000,000,000 of capital, with, average income of $857. The low countries have $11,150,000,000 capital, $130 of average income. Russia has but $15,000,000,000 of valuables. The annual accumulation of new wealth in, in the United Kingdom $325,000,000 ; i.a France, $375,000,000 ; in Germany, $200,000,000 ; in the United States, $825,000,000. T .1 . J J- 1 JJA/I ID me last uecuut: weuavc auuru uiuio iv uu> wealth than the capital value of Italy or Spain, with their accumulated inheritances of 2,000 years. Every sun sets upon our pec pie better off by 82,300,000 than the day before. The contrast between Englaad, for example, and Italy calls attention to the important fact that but little of man's labor survives him. Without incessant reproduction a people soon become poor. Food is the thing least stored. It has been estimated: that there is never more than one year's supply o.a hand, perhaps not so much. Only ideas and certain works of art seem to be capable of indefinite accumulation. t&" A farmer whose son had been ostensibly learning in a popular academy, not being perfectly saisfied with the conduct of his young hopeful, recalled him from school,, and placing him by the side of a cart, addressed him thus: "Now, Joseph, here is a fork, there is a heap of manure and a cart; what do you cad them in Latin ?" "Forkibus, cartibus et manuribtfS," said Jesenh. "Well, now," said the old man, "if you don't take that forkibus pretty quickibuu, and pitch that manuribus into that cartibus, I'll break your lazy backibus. * Joseph went to workibus forthwithibus. 16?* The happiest lot for a man, as far 1.a birth is concerned, is that it should give him but little occasion to think much about it.