Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, September 15, 1881, Image 1
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lewis m. grist, proprietor. i an Inbepenbent Jfamiln fjtetospper: jjdi tjje promotion of t|t |)a[rftcal, Social, Agricultural aub Commercial Interests of tjje j>ont|. |terms?$2.50 a year, in advance.
VOL. 27. YOEKYILLE, S. C? THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1881. NO. 37.
ihc JSfomi ?cliff.
THE KNIFE AND TOMAHAWK.
BY A WESTERN MAN.
About thirty miles below the present city
of Pittsburg, stood an ancient fort, known as
Fort Mcintosh. It was built by a revolutionary
general of that name in the summer of
1778. It was one of the line of forts, which
was intended to guard the people who lived
south of the Ohio river, from the incursions
of the savages to the northward. This fort
was one of the favorite resorts of the great
Indian spy and hunter, Captain Samuel
Brady. Although his usual headquarters
was Pittsburg, then consisting of a rude
* * . - o l r
tort ana a score or iwo 01 rougn lruuwer tenements.
Brady had emigrated westward, or rather
had marched thither in 1778, as a lieutenant
in the eighth Pennsylvania Regiment, under
the command of General Richard Broadhead,
of Easton. When, in the spring of 1779,
Mcintosh retired from command in the West,
Broadhead succeeded him, and remained at
Pittsburg until 1781. Shortly after his advent
to the west, Brady was brevetted Captain.
Brady had served at the siege of Boston,
fought at Long Island and White Plains,
gone through the whole of the terrible campaign
of Trenton and Princeton, suffered at
Valley Forge, distinguished himself at Germantown
and Brandywine, and narrowly escaped
death at Paoli. But his tastes led him
to the erratic mode of warfare known upon
the frontier. Indeed his early education
upon the upper Susquehanna had inculcated
and developed those tastes from the very
earliest hoyhood. Hating an Indian with
that instinctive hatred, which is begotten in
the bosom the white race, by long years
of coutest and outrage, a bitter intensity was
imparted to the feeling in his case by the
murder of his father and a younger brother
by the Indians, under trying and terrible circumstances.
Having premised this much by way of in- i
troduction, it brings us to the opening of our |
story. On the 21st day of August, 1779,i
Brady set out from Fort Mcintosh, for Pittsburg.
He had with him two of his trusty
and well-tried followers. These were not
attached to the regular army, as he was, but
werescouts and spies, who had been with him
on many an expedition. They were Thomas
- __j r>?! t>: D i?
Bevingion ana Denjamiu .DJggs. jjisuj icsolved
to follow the northern bank of the
Ohio. Biggs objected to this, upon the ground,
as Brady well knew, that the woods were
swarming with savages. Brady, however,
had resolved to travel by the old Iudian
path, and having made up his mind uo consideration
could deter him from carrying out
his determination. Bevington had such implicit
faith in his ability to lead that he never
thought of questioning his will.
Quite a discussion arose between Biggs and
his captain at the mouth of Beaver river,
about a mile above the fort, and where they
must cross the Ohio, if they continued on the
northern side. Biggs finally yielded his objections,
and they crossed Beaver and proceeded
with the habitual caution of woodsmen
who fully understood their business.
They had started early, and by rapid traveling
they had reached, ere noou came, the
* * * 1 xl - il _! 1
last piece oi Dottom iaiiu on me norm siue
of the river, just below what is known as the
Narrows. Upon this bottom a pioneer, more
daring than most others, had built a cabin,
and opened a small spot of'cleared land.
He had planted it in corn, and it gave promise
of a most abundant harvest.
But as they approached the edge of the
clearing, just outside of the fence, Brady
discovered "Indian signs," as he called them.
His companions discovered them almost as
quick as he, and at once, in low tones, communicated
to each other the necessity of a
keen watch. They slowly trailed them along
the side of the fence toward the house, whose '
situation they well knew, until tbey stood on
the brow of the bluff bank which overlooked
it. A sight of the most terrible description
met their eyes. The cabin lay in a mass of
smouldering ruins; from hence dull blue
smoke rose in the clear August sunshine.
They observed closely everything about it.
Brady knew it was customary for the Indians
after they had fired a settler's cabin, if
there was no immediate danger, to retire to
the woods close at hand, and watch for the
approach of any member of the family who
might chance to be absent when they made
the descent. Not knowing but that they were
even then lying close by, he left Bevington
to watch the ruins, lying under cover, whilst
he proceeded to the northward and Biggs
southward, to make discoveries. Both were
to return to Bevington, if they found uo Indians.
If they came across the perpetrators,
and they were too numerous to be attacked ,
regularly, Brady declared it his purpose to
have one fire at them and that should be the j
signal for both of his followers to make the
best of their way to the fort.
All this rapidly transpired, and with Bra- i
dy to decide, was to act. As he stole cau-1
tiously round to the northern side of the in- j
closure, he heard a voice in the distance singing.
He listened keenly, and soon discov-1
ered from its lutonations, that it was a white j
man's. He passed rapidly in the direction
whence the sound came. As it approached,
he hid himself behind the trunk of a large
tree. Presently a white man, riding a fine
horse, came slowly down the path. The form
was that of Aibert Gray, the stalwart, brave,
devil-may-care settler, who had built him a
home miles away from the fort, where no one
would dare to take a family, except himself.
Brady wore, as he almost always did, the
Indian garb, and had war paint upon his
face. He knew that if he showed himself
upon the path, Gray would shoot, taking
him to be an Indian. He therefore suffered
Gray quietly to approach his lurking place.
When the time came, he sprang forward ere
the settler could have time to prepare, drew
his tomahawk, and seizing him, dragged him
from his horse. As he did so, he whispered
to him : "I am Captain Brady, for God's sake
be quiet."
Gray, with the instinctive feeling of one I
who knew there was danger, and with that
vivid presence of mind which characterizes
those acquainted with frontier life, ceased
at once to struggle. The horse had been
started by the sudden onslaught, and sprung
to one side. Ere he had time to leap forward,
Brady had caught him by the bridle,
f His loud snorting threatened to arouse any
rma u?li? woe noor Th#? fountain soon soothed
the frightened animal into quiet.
Gray now hurriedly asked Brady what the
danger was. The strong, vigorous spy, turned
away his face UDable to answer him.
The settler's already excited fears were thus
turned into realities. The manly form shook
like an aspen leaf, with emotion?tears fell
as large drops of water over his bronzed face.
Brady permitted the indulgence for a moment,
whilst he led the horse into a thicket
close at hand and tied him. When he returned
Gray had sunk to the earth and great
tremulous convulsions writhed over him.
Brady quietly touched him upon the shoulder
and said, "Come." He at once arose, and
had gone but a few yards until every trace of
i emotion had apparently vanished. He was
[ no longer the bereaved husband and father?
he was the sturdy, well-trained hunter, whose
I ear and eye were acutely alive to every sight
or sound, the waving of a leaf or the cracki
ling of the smallest twig.
He desired to proceed directly toward the
! house, but Brady objected to this, and they
1 passed down toward the river bank. As
; they proceeded, they saw from the tracks of
horses and moccasin prints upon the places
| where the earth was moist, that the party
was quite a numerous one. After thorough|
ly examining ever cover and possible place
I of concealment, they passed on to the southward
and came back in that direction to the
i spot where Beviugton stood sentry. When
! they reached him they found that Biggs had
' not returned. In a few minutes he came.
I He reported that the trail was large and
broad ; the Indians had taken no pains to
j couceal their tracks?they simply had struck
back into the country, so as to avoid coming
in contact with the spies whom they supposed
to be lingering along the river.
The whole four now went down to the cabI
in aud carefully examined the ruins. After
i a long and minute search, Brady declared in
an authoritative manner, that none of the inmates
had been consumed. This announcement
at once dispelled the most harrowing
fears of Gray. As soon as all that could be
discovered hacl been ascertained, each one of
the party proposed eome course of action.
One desired to go to Pittsburg and obtain assistance?another
thought it best to return to
Mcintosh and get some volunteers thereBrady
listened patiently to both these propositions,
but anne quickly, after talking a moment
apart wit Biggs, and said, "Come."
Gray and Be 'ington obeyed at once, nor
did Biggs object. Brady struck the trail
and began pursuit in that tremendous rapid
manner for which he was so famous. It was
; evident that if the savages were overtaken,
! it could only be done by the utmost exertion.
| They were some hours ahead, and from the
number of their horses must be nearly all
j mounted. Brady felt that if they were not
overtaken that night, pursuit would be utterly
futile. It was evident that this band had
been south of the Ohio and plundered the
homes of other settlers. They had pounced
upon the family of Gray upon their return.
When the pursuit began, it must have
been two o'clock. At least two hours had
been consumed by the spies in making the
necessary exploration about the house, ere
tutrjr appjuauucu it, auu cauiuiucu wg iuiuo.
Not a word was spoken upon the route by
any one. Their leader kept steadily in advance.
Occasionally he would diverge from
the track, but only to take it up again a mile
or so in advance. The Captain's intimate
knowledge of the topography of the country,
enabled him to anticipate what points they
would make. Thus he gained rapidly upon
them by proceeding more nearly in a straight
line toward the point at which they aimed to
cross Beaver River.
At last, convinced from the general direction
in which the trail led, that he could divine,
with absolute certainty, the spot where
they would ford that stream, he abaudoned it
and struck boldly across the country. The
accuracy of his judgment was vindicated by
the fact, that from an elevated crest of along j
line of hills, he saw the Indians, with their '
victims, just disappearing up a ravine 011 the i
opposite side of the Beaver. He counted
them as they slowly filed away under the rays
of the declining sun. There were thirteen
warriors, eight of whom were mounted?another
woman, besides Gray's wife, was in the
cavalcade, and two children besides his?in
all, fivechildren.
The odds seemed fearful to Biggs and Bevington
; although Brady made no comments.
The moment they had passed out of sight,
Brady again pushed forward .with unflagging
energy, nor did his followers hesitate. There
was not a man among them whose muscles
were not tense and rigid as a whip-cord, from
exercise and training, from hardship und exposure.
Gray's whole form seemed to dilate
into twice its natural size at the sight of his
wife and children. Terrible was the vengeance
he swore.
Just as the sun set, the spies forded the
stream and begun to ascend the ravine. It
was evident that the Indians intended to camp
for the night sor e distance up a small creek ,
or run, which d bouches into Beaver River, j
about three mile from the location of Fort
Mcintosh, and two below the ravine. The !
spot, owing to the peninsular form of the j
tongue of land lying west of the Beaver, at!
which they expected to encamp, was full ten
miles from that fort. Here there was a fa-;
mous spring, so deftly and cunningly situated j
in a deep dell, aod so densely inclosed with
thick mountain pines, that there was little j
danger of discovery ! Even they might light,
a fire and it could not be seen one hundred |
yards.
The proceedings of their leader, which j
would have been totally inexplicable to all i
others, were partially, if not fully understood, i
by his followers. At least they did not hesi- j
tate or question him. When dark came,
Brady pushed forward with as much apparent
certainty as he had done during the day.
So rapid was his progress, that the Indians
had but just kindled their fire and cooked
their meal, wheu their mortal foe, whose;
presence they dreaded as much as that of the I
small-pox, stood upon a huge rock looking j
down upon them.
His party had been left a short distance in
the rear, at a convenient snot, whilst he went
forward to reconnoitre. There they remained i
impatiently for three mortal hours. They
discussed, in low tones, the extreme disparity |
of the force?the propriety of going to get j
assistance. But all agreed that if Brady ordered
them to attack success was certain.
However impatient they were, he returned at
last.
He described to them how the women and
childreu lay within the centre of a crescent
formed by the savages as they slept. Their
guns were stacked upon the right, and most of
their tomahawks. The arms were not more
than fifteen feet from them. He had crawled
within fifty feet of them, when the snortings
of the horses, occasioned by the approach of
a wild beast, had aroused a number of the i
savages from their light slumbers, and he had i
been compelled to lie quiet for more than an j
hour, until they slept again.
He then told them that he would attack j
them. It was impossible to use firearms. 1
They must depend solely upon the knife and
tomahawk. The knife must be placed in the j
left hand and the. tomahawk in the right. To
Biggs he assigned the duty of securing their
arms. He was to begin the work of slaughter |
upon the right, Gray upon the left, and Bevington
in the centre.
After each fairly understood the duty assigned
him, the slow, difficult, hazardous approach
began. They continued upon their
feet until they had gotten within one hundred
i yards of the foe, and then lay down upon
: their bellies and began the work of writhing
themselves forward like a serpent approach*
i ing a victim. They at last reached the very
verge of the line, each man was at his post,
J save Biggs, who had the farthest to go. Just
i as he passed Brady's position, a twig cracked
roughly under the weight of his body, and a
huge savage, who lay within the reach of
Gray's tomahawk, slowly sat up as if startled
into tliis posture by the sound. After rolling
his eyes, he again lay clown and all was still.
Full fifteen minutes passed ere Biggs mov;
ed ; then he slowly went on. When he reached
his place, a very low, hissing sound indicated
that he was ready, Brady in turn reiterated
the sound as a signal to Gray
I and Bevington to begin. This they did in
| the most deliberate manner. No nervous|
ness was permissible then. They slowly felt
! for the heart of each savage they were to
j stab, and then plunged the knife. The tomaj
hawk was not to be used unless the knife proved
j inefficient. Not a eound broke the stillness
of the night as they cautiously felt and stabbed,
unless it might be that one who was
feeling would hear the stroke of the other's
knife and the groan of the victim whom the
other had slain. Thus the work proceeded.
Six of the savages were slain. One of them
had not been killed outright by the stab of
Gray. He sprang to his feet, but as he arose
to shout his war cry, the tomahawk finished
what the knife had begun. He staggered and
fell heavily forward, over one who had uot
yet been reached. He in turn started up,
Rrnrtir vena fnn nnielr hia knife reached
his heart and the tomahawk his brain almost
at the same iustant.
All were slain by the three spies, except
i one. He started to flee, but a rifle shot by
j Biggs rang merrily out upon the night air
and closed his career. The women and children,
alarmed by the contest, fled wildly to
the wood ; but when all had grown still and
thev were called, they returned, recognizing
amid their fright the tones of their.own peo!
pie. The whole party took up their march
for Mcintosh at once. About sunrise next
morning the sentries of the fort were surprised
to see the cavalcade of horses, men, women
and children, approaching the fort. When
they recognized Brady, they at once admitted
him and the whole party.
In the relation of the circumstances afterward,
Bevington claimed to have killed three.
Thus Brady, who claimed nothing, must have
slain at least six, whilst the other two slew as
many. The thirteenth, Biggs shot.
From that hour to this, the spring is called
the "Bloody Springs!" and the small run is
called "Brady's Run." Few, even of the
most curious of the people living in the neighborhood,
know aught of the circumstances
which conferred these names which will be
preserved by tradition forever. Thus ended
one of the very many hand to hand fights
which the great spy had with the savages.
His history is fuller of daring incident, sanguinary,
close, hard contest, perilous exploration
and adventurous escapes, than that of
either of the Hetzels, of Boone or Kenton.
He saw more service than any of them, and
his name was known as a byeword of terror
among the Indian tribes, from the Suequehanna
to Lake Michigan.
IgisttUauMtis |iefltUmj.
HOW TO MAKE A PAPER BALLOON.
For large balloons, strong manilla paper
is best; for smaller ones, use tissue paper.]
When you build a balloon, decide first what
height you want it, then make the side pieceB
or gores nearly a third longer : a, balloon of
13 gores, each six feet long and orte foot
greatest width, makes a balloon a little over j
four feet high. For such a balloon, first make !
a pattern of stiff'brown paper by which to cut
the gores. To make the pattern, take a strip
of paper six feet long and a little over one
foot wide ; fold the paper in the center lengthwise,
so that it will be only a little over a
half foot from the edges of the fold. Along
the bottom, at right angles from the folded
edge, measure three inches and one half, and i
mark the point ; in the same manner, mark
off five inches from two feet up the fold.
From a point three feet four inches from the
bottom, measure off six inches, and mark the
point ; from this place the width decreases, j
* A . c?.1. a... 1. _ _ :..i x:.._ :_..i !
Al ine iourm mot, iuura 11 puiuL live nieiiea
and one-half from the fold ; about three
inches and a third at the fifth foot, or top,
where the gore will come to a point. With
chalk or pencil draw a curved line connecting
these points, then cut the paper along this
line and unfold it.
You will have a pattern the shape of a
cigar, four inches wide at the bottom, one I
foot greatest width, and six feet long.
After pasting your sheets of manilla or
tissue paper together in strips of the required
length, cut, by the pattern just made, 13
gores ; lay one of these gores flat upon the j
floor, fold it in the center, over this lay an-1
other gore, leaving a margin of the under J
gore protruding from beneath. With a brush j
cover the protruding edge with paste, then ;
turn it up, and over upon the other gore, and
with a towel or rag press it down until the J
two edges adhere. Fold the upper gore in
the center, as you did the first one, and lay a j
third gore upon it; paste the protruding:
edge, and so on until all 13 are pasted. It I
will be found that the bottom gore and top !
gore have each an end unpasted ; lay these
two edges together and paste them neatly.
Next, you must make a hoop of rattan or
some light substance to fit the mouth opening,
which will be about one foot and a half
in diameter. Fasten the hoop in by pasting
the edges of the mouth opening around it.
In very large paper balloons it is well to
place a piece of string along the edge of each
gore and paste it in, letting the ends of the
strings hang down below the mouth. Fasten
the hoop in with these ends before pasting the ,
paper over it. It will be found next to im-!
possible to tear the hoop from a balloon 1
strengthened in this manner.
Should you discover an opening at the top
of your balloon, caused by the points not!
joining exactly, tie it up with a string, if it be
small, but if it be a large bole, paste a piece I
of paper over it. When dry, take a fan and
fan the balloon as full of air as you can, and j
while it is inflated make thorough inspection
of all sides, to see that there are no accidental
tears, holes or rips. The fire-ball is best!
made of old fashioned lamp wick, wound I
rather loosely in the form of a ball, the size i
depending upon the dimensions of the balloon.
The sponge commonly used soon burns out
and the balloon comes down in a very little
while, but the wick-ball here described seldom
fails to propel the little air-ship upward and
onward and out of sight. A short, fine wire j
should next be run quite through the wick- j
ball, so that it can be attached to the mouth
of the balloon in an instant by hooking the
ends of this wire over the cross wires at the
mouth. ,
If you use a little care, you will have no
difficulty in seuding up the balloon. Place
your wick-ball in a pan or dish, put the
corked bottle of alcohol beside it, and about
30 feet away make a simple fire place of
bricks or stones, over which place an old
stovepipe. Fill the fire-place with shavings,
1 twisted pieces of paper or anything that will
light readily and make a good blaze. In a
loop of string fastened at the top of the balj
loon for that purpose, let one of the party put
t the end of a smooth stick, and with the other
| end in his or her hand, mount some elevated
j position and hold the balloon over the fire!
place. Before touching a match to the combustibles
below, expand the balloon as much
: as possible by fanning it full of air ; then
I light the fire. Be very careful, in all the!
I process that follows, to hold the mouth of the
; balloon directly above and not too near the
stovepipe, to prevent the blaze from setting
: fire to the paper, which would easily catch.
At this stage of proceedings one person must
itake the bottle of alcohol, uncork it, and pour
the contents over the wick ball in the basin,
and the ball inuBt be made to soak up all it
will hold of the spirits. The balloon will be!
come more and more buoyant as the air be,
comes heated inside, aud at length, when dis;
tended to its utmost, it will begin pulling to
free itself. Holding the hoop at the mouth,
| walk to one side of the fire, aud with all
speed have the ball attached securely in place.
; Touch a light to it, and it will blaze up. At
the words "All right," let go. At the same
instant the stick must be slipped from the loop
on top, so, as not to tear the paper, and away
will sail the balloon upon its airy voyage.
ICE*
If we trace the history of ice and snow as
applied to the wants of mankind to early periods,
we find that both were utilized in the
East at a very ancient date. The manufacture
of artificial ice was known, we are told,
to the Greeks and Romans. The custom of
cooling beverages with saltpetre was general
in Italy in the sixteenth century. In the
sevenieemn century ice cujm were imiu
duced into France and Spain. A method of
producing ice by chemical means was invented
by a Mr. Walker in 1782. Leslie introduced
the employment of sulphuric acid for
the same purpose, in 1810. Harrison invented
an ice-making machine, in which ether
and salt were used, in 1857. The ice trade
of this country was first introduced by Mr.
Tudor, of Boston, in 1806.
It is said that in many poitions of Asia
the snow was in early times gathered in-sacks,
far up in the mountains, and transported to
the principal cities on the backs of mules,
and there preserved in cavities sunk in the
ground, carefully packed in layers of straw.
Frederick Tudor, a wealthy citizen of
Boston, largely engaged in salt works at Nahant,
about the beginning of the present century,
conceived the project of the shipment of
ice to the West Indies, in 1805, at which time
the yellow-fever was prevalent there; and
his scheme was considered about as ludicrous,
by his towns people, as was that of Lord Tim
othy Dexter, who shipped to the same locality
a cargo of warming pans. As to the success
of both these ventures, history has chronicled
the happy results which attended the enterprises,
and Tudor is credited with the pioneership
of an important commercial industry
to the couutry. In the winter of 1805 Tudor
harvested a crop of ice from a small pond
near Boston, amounting to about three hun
dred tons, which he conveyed by teams to
Charlestown, where he loaded the brig Favorite
with his novel freight and sailed with
it to the island of Martinique, where the article
was received with manifestations of surprise
! and incredulity by the inhabitants. Its ben|
eficial advantages, however, were soon demonstrated,
and in due time additional shipments
amply paid the enterprising person,
who became to be regarded as a benefactor, i
| while profiting by his speculation.
The British Government was the first to appreciate
the advantages likely to accrue to i
colonists from the introduction of ice, aud ;
ten years after Mr. Tudor's first shipment, or <
shortly nfr.pr the close of the war of 1812. he I
received overtures that were very favorable
toward the development of the industry. <
The first was a grant of a monopoly of the
trade upon conditions which he at once erabraced.
The second was the release of certain
port dues (then very heavy) to all ships
bringing ice.
The first regular cargo was shipped to
Charleston, S. C., in the summer of 1817. ]
That city was then the most important com- ,
mercial port in the Southern States. In |
1818, Mr. Tudor established a branch of the <
trade in Savannah, a rival at that time of |
Charleston ; and, in 1820, he established ice (
houses in New Orleans, which city, thirty <
years later, became the greatest consuming j
city in the United States, south of Philadel- ,
phia. It is a remarkable fact that at this j
time, and for some little time later, the ice |
trade was confined mainly to foreign export |
and the supply of the Southern States, while |
the localities in the vicinity of the sources |
of supply in the Northern States were slow to (
adopt the new commodity. At the present ,
time ice is regarded more as an article of <
staple use throughout the year than one of ,
mere luxury. There are delivered and con- j
sumed in New York city alone, during the
winter months, more tons of ice than were j
cut, shipped and consumed in the United ,
States in an entire year thirty years ago. ,
WHAT IS RESPECTABLE SOCIETY. i
We heard a man, otherwise intelligent '
enough, lately sneer at another, "because," 1
said he, "one never meet8 him in respectable 1
society!" The speaker did not mean, however, i
that the person he affected to look down upon i
was immoral, but merely that his circle of in- <
timates were not composed of the fashionable i
or the rich. I
This notion of what constitutes respectable
society, is quite a favorite one with that class '
of individuals whom Thackeray has so signifi- .
cantly called "snobs." Empty pretence al- <
ways makes its own characteristics a stand- 1
ard by which it strives to measure the respect- ]
auilliy or persona ui jarge. m a ouujuiuuuy j
of mere money getters, wealth is the test of
respectability. Among the proud, narrow- 1
minded, eftete nobility of the Faubourg St. 1
Germain, respectability depends upon being <
descendants from ancestors who have married I
their cousins for so many centuries, that nei- I
ther muscles nor brains are left any longer to I
degenerate descendants. With the dandy of- <
ficers who constitute a considerable portion of 1
the American Navy, respectability consists in I
having sponged on "Uncle Sam," in wearing
gilt buttons, and in jilting tailors. Every
conceited fool thinks himself, in like way, the i
only man really weighty, the only person who I
is respectable. '
lit trnp rpyripntnliilitv dpnpnds on no such I
adventitious circumstances. To be respecta-j |
ble is to be worthy of respect; and he de- j i
serves respect who has most virtue. The .
humblest mau who bravely does his duty, is | I
more worthy of respect, is more truly respect- j I
able, than the covetous millionaire among his ! i
money bags, or the arrogant monarch upon <
his throne. The tine lady who backbites her I
neighbor, is less worthy of respect than an j
honest wash-woman. The profligate noble, j 1
though he may wear a dozen orders at his i <
button-hole, is often not really as respectable 11
as the shoe black who cleans his boots. That JI
which is called "the world" exalts the one I I
and despises the other, but it does not make ]
them respectable according to the real mean-:'
ing of that word. Their respectability is but [ i
a hollow sham, as they themselves frequently j 1
feel ; and those who worship them bow down i
to a Fetish, a thing of feathers and tinsel. <
The selfish, idle drone, who wastes life in his i
own gratification, and dissipates the fortuue ;
I of his progeny, is not and cannot be respecta- I
: ble ; but the hard-working, self denying fath- i
er, who wears out his life to bring up his chil- i
| dren is, even though he be but a day-laborer. 1
Nothing can make Dives fit to lie upon Abra- I
ham's bosom, while Lazarus is welcomed
there, even with the sores the dogs have licked. 1
This false view of life, which would meas- j
ure respectability by a conventional standard,
is totally at variance with our Republican institutions.
It creates an "imperium in imperio,"
for while the Jaw declares all citizens
equal, it erects a social standard which endeavors
to ignore that great truth. The
coarse, brutish, knavish, profligate criminal?
in short, all who fall short of their duty to
themselves aud their fellow-men?are those
who are not "respectable and this whether
they are rich or poor. While those who live
honestly, and strive to do what good they can,
constitute in reality, the respectable class, ir
respective of the fact whether they eat with
silver forks or steel ones.?Philadelphia
Ledger.
RESPECT OLD AGE.
There, give him all the path. Tread slowly
and reverently in his presence. Hush that
- *11 r*
rude laughter ; cnecK mat line jest, oee you
not upon bis temples the snow of many winters
? See you not '.he sunken eye, the bowed
form, the thin hand upon whose surface the
blue veins stand out like cords ? Gone are
the beauty and the strength of manhood ; and
in that faded eye but little light is left, save
that of love and kindness. That voice has
lost its music, save the soft undertone of affection.
Sit down, young friend, and hear that story
of the olden time; and if, in looking
backwards into the mists of the past, he
sometimes forgets?sometimes confounds dates,
and incidents, or tells the same old tale for
the twentieth time?think, over what a va9t,
vast field his laboring memory wanders.
Think, over what a checkered web of events,
thought takes her beaten track down into
the depths of years. Oh, the joys and sorrows,
the hopes and disappointments, the
anxieties, and wrongs, artd sufferings he rouses
from their dreamy beds, as he tights life's
"battle o'er again."
"And scenes long lost, of joy and pain,
Come wildering o'er his aged brain,"
Standing upon the boundary line between
life and the untried future, his feet would
fain turn backward into the paths of the
past. One moment he longs for rest?the
next come back the mocking memories of
departed joys. The thorns have dropped silently
away amidst the leaves of the ioses he
gathered in childhood and youth?their beauty
and fragrance alone remain.
Oh, you in whose hounding veins young
life yet lingers ; and you in the full beauty
and vigor of manhood, respect the aged !
Speak gently, hush the rude laugh, check
the idle jest, listen to the wisdom which is
the voice of experience. Cheer him with
kindly words ; encircle with yourstrong arm,
and lead him as he descends the Western hill
of life, the shadows deepening into night?
the white hairs upon his temple already driftinn,
in tko ?nnl Kraa7o trliinh nnmPK lin frnm
the valley of death.
Honor the aged, that he may leave you
his blessing on the threshold'of the unknown
land. Honor him, and God will raise up for
you friends to remove the thorns from the
last league of your own life journey ; for the
sake of the weary one of the long ago, who
never wept for your ingratitude, whose bowed
form never struggled with a weight of care
or grief which you might have carried, while
you walked carelessly along, intent upon your
own ease and pleasure.
Honor the aged, for His sake who was old
before the world was?whose life is from everlasting
to everlasting.
Honor liim that feebly walketh
With his staff, the white haired sage,
God will curse the wretch that mocketh
Hoary hairs, with slighted aye.
LAKGE AND SMALL BULLETS.
The fact that the assassin used a large bullet
instead of a common sized one, is very
much in the President's favor. Jtisa fact
[.hat most people, not versed in surgical
science do not realize, that the small ball is
more dangerous than the large one. They
eall it strange thut harm can come of the in
iignificant bits of lead carried by our small
pocket pistols. The fact is as stated, however,
and the reason is simple. In the first
place, musket ball wounds are less dreaded
by surgeons than pistol ball wounds, because
the musket halls are more apt to go clear
through. The worst thing to happen is for
the ball to lodge, for the presence of thv, foreign
substance causes inflammation, foul gatherings
and discharges and blood poisoning.
3o, carrying the comparison along, a large
pistol ball is more likely to go through than
* TT _ _ ?_ I J
i small one. nence n, is jess aangerous.
Its only increase of peril comes in the fact of
its size, which gives it greater opportunity to
:ut an artery. If it does not do that, its
chance of mischief is less than if it were
smaller. If it does make that cut, death
comes at once from bleeding. But the large
bullet has not gone clear through President
Garfield's body, and the explanation of its
lessened danger might not seem to apply, but
it does. The larger the ball the larger hole
it makes on its way in. This facilitates the
lischarge of the wound very much. There
is a greater opportunity for the affected spot
lo get rid of its own evils and so to heal,
rhis factor is worth considerable in the opinion
of skillful physicians and is all in the i
President's favor. Thus it happeus that the j
cold-blooded design of making the work J
ihorough by the use of a large bullet may j
prove the one condition on which recovery is |
possible.
A leading surgeon has in his possession a :
pistol ball, not much larger than a buckshot, <
which killed a man ; and yet he treated a sol-;
lier, now alive and well, though a half-pound i
call had made a clean hole, going in through !
die lungs and out at the back. In this case !
ihe hole was so large that the wound took j
care of itself and cured. In the other, the |
bole was so small that the accumulated mat- j
;er could not escape.
Phenomenal Railroad Building.?A
remarkably feat of railroad building will be
l.he line from Portland to Dallas, Oregon, j
when it is finished. Much of the roadway j
must be blasted in the flintv face of loftv preci- ;
pices, or drilled through no less unyielding
rock, and every foot is a struggle with nature.
About 10 miles below Dallas is a bluff of
oasaltic rock, rising abruptly 300 feet from
the Columbia river, along whose side the road
is to pass. Men suspended by ropes 150 feet!
Dver this wall drill and blast the solid rock, |
their work being attended by the greatest dan- {
>er. The largest blast on the line thus far !
lias been at a point 10 miles above the Cas-!
lades, a mass of rock 165 feet high, 170 wide j
ind 70 thick at the base, containing more ;
than 40,000 cubic yards, being removed by i
the explosion of 10,000 pounds of Judson |
powder, equal in force to 20,000 of black, j
Three tunnels from 300 to 550 feet loog are
now being drilled, steam or compressed aw {
being used in the work. At two points a j
new and phenomenal difficulty is encounter- |
2d, the mountain settling, or sliding into the
river at the rate of about twelve inches a ,
year, and the trouble will not cease with the ,
finishing of the road. In other places the |
mountain side is covered with small broken i
stones, which slip with every movement below,
and the walls of heavy rock to be built
high up on the cliff to check the descent.
Trestle-work and bridges will also have to
be erected along the line. The maximum
2jrade is 20 feet to the mile, and there is hard
]y a mile of straight track at a stretch. Notwithstanding
these difficulties and the fact
that the road was located only a year ago, the
Oregon railway and navigation company expect
to have the line of 86 miles finished this
year. It will cost 83,600^000, or nearly $42,000
a mile.
THE WATER OF THE NILE.
Bruce, in his "Scenes and Sights in the
j East," says : The waters of the East, wheth
er good or bad* are all soft. About the
, analysis of the water of the Nile I have no
! curiosity, and I would not be pleased to re!
ceive information. To be made acquainted
| with the chemical elements which compose
I our food or our drink, is enough to destroy
all pleasure in eating and drinking, and to
1 n.% I 1 _ j
subject the substance 01 tne veneraoie goou
Nilus to the tortue of scientific analysis looks
like impiety. The Nile water is particularly
soft; it fills the mouth with a rich creamy
taste; and in drinking it, in order to enjoy it,
it is well to spread it over every part of the
palate. It should be drank, not to quench
thirst, but to create high pleasure. It should
not, therefore, beswajlowed in large draughts
at a time, but taken at short intervals, every
hour or so. In the house, the water jar?the
admirable Egyptian water jar?should be at
hand day and night continually. Mhch refreshment
of soul would be obtained by your
rising from bed during the night and taking
repeated draughts?allowing them to remain
6ome little tiuie in your mouth, so as to keep
up an abidiug sense of pleasure on your palate.
The passion of Nile water, like the love
of every thing that is intensely exquisite in
its way, increases with its enjoyment. No
one who h* once or twice tasted Nile water,
and has a capacity for pleasure, will ever
after consent to drink of it poisoned with the
iufusion of any other liquid. Jealous of its
own honor, it appears to be the most averse of
all waters to join in harmony with wine. Indeed,
mixed with wine, it is a nauseous compound.
The illustrious river seems opposed to
alliance with ignoble fluids, and to court admiration
and love in its own character, "without
the foreign aid of ornament." At the hotels
the water undergoes Alteration. In the
cottages through the country, it is kept in
large vessels which allow the sediment to fall
to the bottom. The small clay jars in which
it is placed before you in tne hotels, are very
graceful in form and finely adapted to keep
the liquid cool.
Expensive Drugs.?A Milwaukee baldheaded
man told a doctor that his hair was
falling out, and asked him if be didn't know
of something that would stop it. The doctor
9aid he would fix him, so he wrote a prescription,
which was as follows :
Chloride of Sodium 1 oz.
Aqua pura 8 oz.
Shake well ana rub on the scalp every morning.
The bald man went to the druggist and had
the prescription put up, paying 81.17 for it.
He asked the druggist if it wasn't a little high,
but he felt ashamed when the druggist asked
him if he knew how much aqua pura cost a
gallon. He said be didn't, but supposed it
comes high. The druggist told him that
aqua pura was one of the most penetrating
drugs in the store, and as for chloride of
sodium, there was nothing like it, and the
war in Peru had sent it up kiting. The bald
man used the medicine and felt us though it
was doing him good. His wife noticed little
new hairs coming out, and be felt good, so
when the stuff was gone he took the bottle to
the store and had it filled again. The chap
who filled it this time was another chap, and
when the bald headed man threw down a
dollar the drugger said: "0, never mind,
we won't charge you anything for that."
The bald man asked him how that was, when
the drugger said : "Why, it is only salt and
water, anyway. The salt is only 2 cents a
pound, and the water is pretty cheap this
year." The bald man gave one gasp, and
said : "Well, by the great bald headed Elijah,
I paid 81 for filling that bottle before,
and I want my money back. It is a baldheaded
swindle. I thought that Peruvian
story didn't look plausible." The drugger
gave the man a box of cigars to keep still
about it, but he won't speak to the other
drugger who charged him a dollar.?Peck's
Sun.
The Southern Crops.?Senator Joseph
E. Browu, writing from his plantation in
North Georgia, to the Atlanta Constitution,
giving the condition of the crops in that portion
of the State, predicts that this will be
one of the shortest years ever known. He
says:
"The crops in all this section are cut very
short by the drought. I have lately been in
Arkansas, and they are the shortest I have
ever seen all the way. The fall crops, such
as potatoes and turnips, promise very little.
My opinion is that the prospects for provisions
for man and beRSt for the coming year are
less promising than any I have ever seen.
In this emergency our people should be extremely
careful to save everything that will
sustain life. There is now a very large quantity
of corn in the State that has no ear. The
tassel is dead or dying, and no amount of
rain could cause it to make corn. Much of
the fodder is still green and the stalk is green.
All such corn should be cut down immediately
just below the green blades, and after
lying in the 9un a day or two it should be
carefully shocked and stalks tied tightly
around the tops of the shocks. As soon as
tUo ofq 1 lra q? ftrv in flip shnnir it should be
put under shelter. In this way a vast quantity
of food for stock, which is now wasting,
could be saved. It will be greatly needed
next winter. No stalks should be cut that
are not yet in tassel, as in the case of good
rains, they might make corn. When it does
rain people should sow heavily of winter varieties
of turnips. If they do not grow large
they may make salad. I trust you will warn
the people of their danger, and do all you can
to induce them to prepare for the severe trial
which awaits them."
Why the Law is Uncertain.?Language
is an imperfect instrument for the ex-1
pression of ideas. Not a few of its forms are j
ambiguous?that is, they speak in two ways. j
Readers and hearers are left in old Isaac's '
perplexity. The voice is that of Jacob, the 1
hand is that of Esau.
Many of the terras of language are equivocal.
They have two meanings, so the reader1
is in doubt as to the mind or intention of the
writer.
Those who draft statutes know how difficult;
it is to frame a law which shall be free from !
ambiguous expressions or equivocal terms. |
Judge Story once told a personal incident, |
which illustrates this difficulty.
He was employed by Congress to draft an
act. So important was it tha. be spent six
months in trying to perfect its phraseology.
His purpose was to make the statute so clear
that the most astute lawyer should not be able
to cast the shawow of a doubt upon its meaning.
The draft, proving satisfactory to the lawyers
in Congress, became a'law. In less than
a year, a suit, involving the interpretation of
this very law, came before the court over
which Judge Story presided. Having heard
the arguments of the able attorneys, the
judge confessed that he was unable to docide
upon the meaning of a statute which he him-H.
self had framed. He, of'course, knew what
be had meant to put iuto the law. But the
criticism of the two lawyers showed him that
he had used such ambiguous expressions, that
it was doubtful if he had said what he meant
to have said.
How She Cured Him of Swearing.?
The husband of a certain Nashville Ldy was,
before his marriage, a furious tiwearer.
Through his wife's influence he left off this
bad habit, except one favorite cus word,
which clung to him under all circumstances,
and which, to the great annoyance of his
good wife, he would unconsciously use everywhere?the
word "damn." Several months
since he arose one cold morning, before the
servant came in to make the wood Are, and,
after a long effort and fruitless burning of
many matches, turned and said : "Sallie, this
rtnmn w.in't hum " To this the CTOod
wife earnestly said: "Yes, the damn wood is
too damn green, and the damn servant has
forgotten to bring up any damn kindling wood
to start the the damn fire with." He looked
at his wife in absolute dismay, but at once
saw the point and said nothing. A longer
period than usual passed without the favorite
expletive being used, but later on he wanted
a basket aud said, after looking for it: "Sallie,
where has the damn basket got to ?" The
wife quietly, as if putting a child to sleep,
said : "Ask the damn cook to get the damn
basket?damn her, she keeps it." As before,
he said nothing; but months have passed,
and, if he damns anything, it is not where
she is. She says it was like taking quinine,
and she always went and washed out her
mouth afterward ; but he is cured.
The First Saw-Mill.?The old practice
in making boards was to split up the logs with
wedges; and, inconvenient as the practice
was, it was no easy thing to persuade the
wsrld that it could be done in any bettor way.
Sa v-mills were first used in Europe in the
fifteenth century; but so lately as If55, an
English ambassador, having seen a saw-mill
in France, thought it a novelty which deserved
a particular description. It is amusing
to see how the aversion to labor-saving
machinery has always agitated England.
The first saw-mill was established by a Dutchman,
in 1663 ; but the public outcry against
the new-fangled machine was so violent, that
the proprietor was forced to decamp with
more expedition than ever did a Dutchman
before. The evil was thus kept out of Eng'
j * 1 ? Mn.nliAni
J Ann ior several jcanjj ur l atuci gcuuovivua f
bub in 1768, an unlucky timber merchant,
hoping that after so long a time the public
would be less watchful of its own interests,
made a rash attempt to construct another mill.
The guardians of the public welfare, however,
were on the alert, and a conscientious mob at
ODce collected and pulled the mill to pieces.
Such patriotic spirit could not always last,
and now, though we have nowhere seem the
fact distinctly stated, there is reason to be*
lieve that saw-mills are used in England.?
Philadelphia Ledger.
???? V
The Invention of Shoes.?Sandals were
most common among the Orientals. Asi they
were mere soles of wood or leather fastened
to the foot with strings, they were no protection
from the dust; hence arose the hospitable
practice of washing the visitors' feet?
a practice so much insisted upon by public
opinion, that if any one passing out of a '
house beat the dust from his feet, it showed
that they had not been washed, and loft on
the house the reproach of inhospitality, which
was the deepest of .all dishonor. The Greeks
and Romans added the moccasin or buskin
to the sandal?the former was worn by tragic
actors. The shoe makes quite a feature in
English history. In the time of Richard I,
says Stowe, "began the detestible use of piked
shoes, the toes being tied up to the knee with
chains of silver or gilt." Edward IV, says the
same historian, ordained "that no man shall
wear shoes or boots having the toes pc3sing
two inches loner: no peaks of boots or shoes
to pass that length on pain of cursing by the
cle-gie."?Home Journal.
An Artful Miser.?Some time ago, a
gentleman called upon a certain nobleman,
in Paris, a very wealthy and inordinately
mean character, and found him at the breakfast
table, quite alone, and deing his utmost
to catch a fly which was buzzing about the
room. "What the deuce are you about?"
demanded the astonished visitor, to whom
the spectacle of an old man amusing himself
by catching flies seemed very singular, to say
the least. "Hush !" exclaimed the other.
"I'll tell you presently." After many efforts,
the old fellow at last succeeded in entrapping
the fly. Taking the insect carefully between
his thumb and foreflnger, he put it into the
sugar-bowl and quickly dropped the lid over
his prisoner. His visitor, more annoyed than
ever, knowing as he did the avaricious character
of the man before him, repeated the
question. "I'll tell you," replied the miser, a
triumphant grin overspreading his countenance
as he spoke; "I want to ascertain if
the servants steal the sugar."
t&' In the winter of 1863-4, Hayes' Louisiana
brigade presented Maj. John W. Daniel,
who will be remembered as the orator al; the
Centennial celebration of the battle of King's
Mountain, as a token of their admiration, a
pair of silver spurs which cost $3,200 in the
currency of the Confederacy. When he was
badly wounded in the thigh in the battle of
the Wilderness, the foot of bis shattered 'inb
- - - 11 * - ? *i.
lay upon his breast as ne leu, wnen wim ma
own hands, he unbuckled one of those spurs
and handed it to a friend who had taken off
the other, telling him to take care of them.
Expecting to fall in the hands of the enemy,
he was unwilling for them to capture his
spurs, and they are still in his possession. He
also took from his haversack the Confederate
countersign, and gave it to the same friend,
lest it might fall into the hands of the enemy.
A Gentleman.?What is it to be a gentleman?
Thackeray says: Is it to have
lofty aims, to lead a pure life, to keep your
honor virgin; to have the esteem of your
fellow-citizens and the love of your firesides ;
to bear good fortune meekly; to suffer evil
with constancy; and through evil or good
to maintain truth always? Show me the
happy man whose life exhibits these qualities,
and him we will salute as a gentleman, whatever
his rank may be. Show me the prince
who possesses them, and he may be sure of
our love and our loyalty.
The 100th Psalm.?The long-disputedquestion
whether Purcell or Handel was the
author of the grand music of the Old Hundreth
has been set at rest by a discovery made
a few days since in Loudon Cathedral Library.
Purcell died" in 1695, and Handel in
1759. But in the Cathedral library, a
French psalter, printed in 1546, contains the
music of the Old Hundredth, exactly as it is
now sung, so that it could not be the production
of either of the great musicians to whom
it bad been attributed.
9&* We could explain many a coldness
could we look into the heart concealed from
us; we should often pity when we hate, love
when we think we cannot forgive, admire when
we curl the lip with scorn and indignation.