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mpwg A COUNTRY PARSON j If Miss Matty Rice had yawned once siuce breakfast, she had yawned a score of times; and even pretty Eveleen was growing drowsy over her embroidery by the window. For it was a hopelessly rainy day in mid-October, with the sky veiled in dark gray mist, the tinted leaves floating down into matted layers of dim color around the columns of the piazza, and the tall dahlias nearly prostrated by the steady down pour. No walks, no gathering of fernaj mosses, and berries, in the still,, delicious woods ; no dreamy rambles to the mountain tops?and, worst and saddest of all, nothing to read. "And I won't be deluded into working worsteds," said Matty, "nor yet into crewels and Kensington stitch. Eveleen, where is j that delightful little book that papa was reading aloud out of last night ?" * ' -n _ n "Do you mean tne 'ttecreauons 01 a ouun-1 try Parson ?' " said Eveleen, comparing two shades of rose-colored wool. "If that's the name of it?yes." "He took it to the city with him," said Eveleen. "I saw it sticking out of his coat-pocket, trhen he was running for the train." "How provoking!" sighed Matty, clasping her dimpled hands above her head ; "when it's the book of all books that I should like to read on a day like this." "Mr. Winton has a copy of it," said Eveleen, threading a worsted needle with the very darkest shade of garnet. "But what good will that do me ?" said Matty, disconsolately. ' "Borrow it," suggested Eveleen. "Everybody borrows everything in a place like this ; and I'm sure Mr. Winton would be glad to oblige you." "But how ?" urged Mattie. "The hotel is at least half a mile away," "Send Nora." "Nora, indeed ! I don't suppose Nora ever did an errand in her life," said Matty. "Then it's high time she'd begin," laughingly suggested Eveleen. "Write a note, and?" "I'd rather send a verbal message," said Matty: "and I wouldn't send at all, if I was not dying to read the end of that essay that papa began last night." Nora, deep ir? the energetic occupation of blacking the kitchen stove, was summoned upstairs. "Nora," said Mattie, impressively, "I want you to go to the hotel. You know where the hotel is ?" "Sure, an' f do, Miss," said Nora, with wideopen mouth, and eyes of intense attention. "And ask for Mr. Winton, and tell him that . Miss Matty Rice sends her compliments, and would like to borrow the 'Recreations of a Country Parson.'" "Yis'in," said Nora. "You're sure you understand V" "Yis'm, an' why wouldn't I ?" promptly retorted Nora, rather nettled by this implied aspersion on her powers of comprehension. "And come back as quick as you can." "Sure an' it's me that will," said Nora. And presently the two sisters caught a glimpse of her stout Milesian figure, beneath the folds of a rusty water-proof cloak, with a mammoth cotton umbrella held over her head, iliaonnflflriim luOiiiwl flfo lnnra IpHVPK of tllft Uluil^vui * i4?> Wliitivi v** v uw^v ?vw. VK. w?, -?? rhododendron liedge. "I hope she won't be long," said Matty. "Why should she V" said serene Eveleen. And she went on composedly with the pomegranate blossom that she was embroidering, while Matty sat down to the little cabinet-piano, and tried to pick out the notes of some dreamy little refrain, which had haunted her ever since she heard it at the oi>era last winter, with Patti smiling on the stage, and the full orchestra thundering out its strains. And Nora, plunging down the ravine, like anything but a wood-nymph, plashed her way to the hotel, going a quarter of a mile out of her road on account of a spotted snake, and stopping for a good chat with a fellow-IIibernian who was oil his way to the post-oHice. "There," said Nora, as she turned away from Teddy 0'IIara, "an' sure I've forgotten the name as clane as if I niver had heard it." "Whose name was it, alanna V" consolingly demanded Uolonel lioss' coachman, wnosesoir nothings had put the message so completely out of Nora's head. "There was somethin' in it about the "Rectory of a country Parson,'" said Nora, twisting herself into the letter S, with the violent attempt at recollection to which she forced herself. "There ain't no rectory hereabouts," said Teddy. "Sure it ain't built yet ! Rut the parson he's up on the hotel steps. I seen him there as I came beyant. A tall young gintleman, with a high vest?for all the wurreld like Father Rockwell?an' spectacles as gintale as ye plaze. Is it a message you've got for him, Nora, mavoumeen V" "I'm to borrow him !" said Nora, fixing her dull, glassy glare on Teddy O'Hara's astonished face. "To?borro w him V" repeated Teddy. "Yis, sure !" Nora answered, doggedly. Teddy uttered a whistle. "It's the quarest loan as iver I heard of,'' said he. "An' if it's a fair question, who is it wants him V" "Miss Matty Rice's compliments," repeated Nora, with parrot-like promptitude, "and she wants to borrow the parson." " Teddy exploded into a laugh. "Sure, an' if it was leap year," said he, "I should think it meant something. I niver heard such a message in all me born days before. But I must make haste, or the i>ost will he too late for me." Away trudged Teddy, stopping ever and anon to laugh in the dripping autumn woods, while Ncra kept on to the hotel, all unconscious of the curious transformation that had befallen her luckless message. "Is the parson here ?" demanded she, shaking her umbrella until it sent forth a miniature water-spout of flying drops, and stamping the mud off her feet on the steps of the mountain hotel, which was still well-filled with the guests who had lingered to see the splendors of the October frosts among the woods. The hotel clerk, who had just come out to glance at the barometer, stared at her ; the young ladies on the wide verandah giggled ; the stout old gentlemen, who were walking up and down the boards to gain their daily two iniles of exercise, stopped short; and a spectacled grave-looking young man, who was talking with a lady just beyond, glanced around, as if he fancied that he were personally interested. "Do you want the?clergyman ?" said the hotel clerk, doubtful, yet polite. "Is it a stone-mason or a chimney-swape I'd be mainin', d'ye think V" retorted Xora, beginning to imagine that she was being made sport of. "I am the clergyman," said the spectacled gentleman, stepping courteously forward at this juncture. "Is there anything I can do for you V" "Miss Matty Rice's compliments," said Xora, without in the least abating the shrillness oi ner voice, "an sue wains to uunow yuu. "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Fontaine, "but?I'm not quite sure that 1 understand # you, my good woman ?" "I'm spakin tlie English language, sure," s lid Nora, somewhat affronted. "She wants to borrow you." "But what for?" said the parson, ignoring the titers of the group which was now fast gathering on the verandah. "To amuse herself with this rainy day," said Nora. "You're to come.back wid me, prase. I was to bring you. Miss Matty Rice's compliments, and?" "Really," said Mr. Fontaine, this is very strange." "The Rices live in the little Swiss cottage by Haldino Falls, suggested the hotel clerk. "Gentleman goes up and down to the city every day. Keeps a little carriage, with?" "You're to come back wid me, please," said Nora. " 'The Rectory,' or 'The Country Parson," Miss Matty Rice's compliments, and?" Mr. Fontaine, hurriedly surveying the situation in his mind's eye, decided that it was better to obey this strange behest. And putting on his water proof wrap, and arming himself with a light silk umbrella, he accompanied Nora McShane, to the great buzzing and whispering of the group on the verandah. Miss Rice was Hstlesly watching Eveleen's embroidery, as the door bounced open and Nora rushed in, exclaiming : "Here he is ! I've brought him !" "Brought whom ?" said Matty, in surprise. "The country parson " said Nora. "There wasn't no rectory. I inquired for it, but it wasn't built." "What on earth is the girl talking about ?" said Matty in amazement. And then Mr. Fontaine walked in, holding his hat in his hand. "I am the clergyman" said he. "Can I be of any use V" Matty colored a deep cherry-pink. "Oh, dear, I am so sorry 1" she faltered : "but there is some dreadful mistake here. I sent Nora to the hotel to borrow a book, and she has brought me back?a man I" "A book ?" said Mr. Fontaine. "Yes," said Matty, trying harder'and hardder to keep back her laughter as the comic side of the circumstance forced itself upon her. " 'The Recreations of a Country Parson.' Mr. Paul Winton has it." Mr. Fontaine began to laugh. So did Matty and Eveleen; and in five minutes they were the best friends in the world. Mr. Fontaine stayed to lunch, and they never knew how that long, rainy morning whiled itself away, until at last the blue riffs of sky spread their banners above the pine-trees on old Sky-top, and every shining drop was transformed into a tiny rainbow. Mr. Fontaine came often after that. So did Mr. Paul Winton, the owner of the genuine "Country Parson." And when the family closed their cottage and returned to the city, the two young men discovered that the journey to Philadelphia was not such a very long one. And there is every probability that the lacking rectory will be built in the spring, and that the country parson will bring a pretty young wife there; at least so says a popular gossip. "Dear stupid old Nora !" says Matty Rice, "it was all her doing. And she shall have a home with me always." "But blunders don't always terminate so successfully," Eveleen gravely remarks. Matty shakes her head. .She will not concede this to be a blunderat all. Only?a coindence. THEIR STEP-MOTHER. "Children! children!" said Parson Lackington "a little less noise ! How do you suppose I am ever going to get my sermon written in such a Bedlam as this V" The Lackington ciiiiaren were a 11 cue noisier than usual, upon this frosty October evening, when the sun was setting redly behind the leafless woods, and the fragrant chill was in the air, and the great knotty logs blazed cheerfully on the hearth. Bessy had brought in a pair of frolicsome kittens from the barn, John was playing marbles, Hubert was chanting his Latin lesson over and over again in the monotonous sing-song which is supposed to be so efficacious in the stimulating of the memory, and Louisa was practicing "Shells of Ocean" on a six-keyed accordion, with torturing iteration, while the Parson, a handsome, genial-browed man of forty, sat and rumpled his hair in despair, with his unfinished sermon lying in a drift of hopeless half sheets before him on the table, and old Matilda, the deaf maid-of-all-work, went composedly on with her task of setting the table in the midst of the uproar, when the door-latch was softly lifted, and in crept Mrs. Gregory, with a napkin-covered plate in her hand, and a shawl over her head. A lull fell instantaneously 011 the scene. jrcessy nui me Kiueus unuer ncr apron, ouim pocketed his marbles, Hubert left off repeating tlie Latin verbs, and Louisa let the accordion drop, while Mr. Lackington rose, hospitably smiling, to greet the uninvited guest. "We are glad to see you, Mrs. Gregory," said he. "Oh, pray don't let me disturb anybody," said the widow, smiling all around like a middle-aged sunbeam, "I do so enjoy these little glimpses of domestic life. And I've just brought over a few hot jumbles, fresh from the oven, for the dear children. And it's Hester's birthday to-morrow, and won't they all come over to go to a nutting party in our woods, and afterward take tea with her 1" The Parson's brow brightened. "You are very kind, Mrs. Gregory," he said, "and, as usual, very thoughtful. But four such wild little elves?" "Don't say a word, sir, don't say a word," purred the plump neighbor. "I am so fond of children. And it will be such a treat to Hester!" "In that case," said Mr. Lackington, "I need hardly assure you how glad they will be to accept your kind invitation." "And you'll drop in to tea, too, sir ?" coaxed Mrs. Gregory. "At an early six, with games and blind man's buff in the evening. Ourselves only!" n r . 11 l. i_ i M 1.1 "\C.. T M A* "i snail oe inusi nappy," saiu xui. j.aoMitgton. And lie looked as if he meant it. Airs. Gregory went smiling away, only stopping to pat Louisa's head, and tell her how she was growing a great girl, and to ask John how his white rabbits got along, as well as to slip into old Matilda's hand a new and excellent recipe for soft-soap making! "Ain't she nice V" said Louisa, in a whisper when the visitor had gone, and their father was once more deep in his Theological Dictionary. "No," said John, gruflly, "she ain't!" "She'th a cat !" lisped Bessy, with energy. Louisa looked from one to the other with amazement. "What do you mean ?" said she. ".Stupid!" said Hubert, in a whisper. "Can't you see that she want's to marry father, and be our step-mother?" Louisa's dimpled countenance fell. "But we don't wan't a step-mother,"said shepiteously. "Of course we don't," said John. "And if she does poke her old nose in here, won't we make it lively for her, that's all!" Louisa scrambled to her feet. "I'll ask papa not 1" she said, breathlessly. "Ilush?sh?sh !" exclaimed the other three, all in one voice. "Don't speak a word ! Father don't know what we know. And perhaps, after all, it is only Airs. Daggett's gossip." "But old Matilda thaid tho, too," sighed Bessy. "Oh, I couldn't live with a thtepmother!" And in their little family congress around the hearth-stone, the children decided to declare absolute war against Airs. Gregory ! While the enterprising widow herself rose with the morning's lark, to bake pound-cake, sweep the best room out, put up the newly I washed muslin curtains, and make a general ! preparation for the honored company which i she had invited. "I'll bring him to the point this evening or j I will know the reason why," said Mrs. (ireg] ory, as she pinned up her puffs and frisettes j into an array of papers and looked to see that the lavender strings of her best cap were in becoming order. "The dear, pious man! lie is such a child in the way of the world i that he really needs some one to protect and care for him. And it may as well be me as ' Tabitha Tolliver or Miss Rosetta Day. To be I sure, those unruly children are something of a draw back, but I'll soon pack'em off to a i boarding-school once I am Mistress at the j Parsonage! Ilester! Hester ! why don't you j come in and help with the holly-leaves and i the vases of chrysanthemums." And Hester, a tall, rosy girl of sixteen, I roused herself from her book and came list! lessly into the room. "What is it, mother V" she asked. "I declare," cried Mrs. Gregory, with a I shriek of horror, "if you haven't left the molasses-cake to burn in the oven! You're no better than a wax doll, Hester! And I've no patience with you !" "Mother," said distressed Ilester, "you never said anything to me about molassescakes." "I did," snapped the widow, "but your nose was in your book,?as usual. And this settles the question, Hester. I shall send you next week to learn the milliner's trade of your i aunt Minerva up in Vermont. For you're j good for nothing in life herel" But when the children arrived from the I'ari sonage at about three o'clock, with baskets i all ready for the nutting expedition, all the shadows had cleared away from Hester's gypsy-brown face. She loved chidren dearly, and the little Lackenton flock were her especial favorites. And no happier group could be found any where in world than were gathered that afternoon in the leafy aisles of the October woods, where the tall golden-rods lifted their glittering specters, and the nuts came dropping down at every breath of the scented wind. But they were tired at last, and Hester's black, lustrous hair had all fallen down, and her dress was torn, and they sat down on a mossy bank under the shadow of a huge gray rock, where the brook gurgled by, and the shy squirrels darted past with gliding motion. And then and there the children took pretty Hester into their confidence. "But it can't be possible," said the girl, with a puzzled look. "Mother is ten years older than Mr. Lackington." "That makes no difference," said John, dolefully. "Everybody says it is to be a match. "Hethter, what would you do if yon were uth V" said Bessie, clinging close to the slight young figure. "If there watli a terrible old sthep-mother coming to your houthe ?" i "I'd run awav." said Hester, with energy. "Ilester," said Louisa, "if papa marries your mother, we'll run away and come here. And then we'll all live together, and be so happy, won't we ?" "Lou's hit it this time 1" said John, smiting the leafy drifts with his closed fist. "But it would be jolly, wouldn't it V For you're the nicest girl I know of, Hester. I don't see how you came to have such a mother." Hester laughed and shook her head, and tried to frown. "Children," said she, "you musn't talk so. You " But then all the little Lackingtons precipitated themselves with one accord upon Hester, and closed her lips with kisses. "This won't do," said Hester, starting up. "We shall never get home at tins rate. Children, let's have a race ! Let's all start from a tree and go different ways, and see which will get to the house first!" Away they all llew with merry peals of laughter, and Hester presently found herself tripping along a shady forest path, directly into the arms of the Kev. Mr. Lackington, who, with a book under his arm, was coining in an opposite direction. Ilester stopped short, with burning cheeks as she. remembered her torn dress, her disheveled hair, the story to which she had just listened of the probability of her mother's marriage to this reverend gentleman ! What would he . think of her V What would he say to her ? But Mr. Lackington did not seem at all dismayed by the sudden apparition. He put out his hand kindly. "I am glad to meet you, Hester," he said. "I am just in time to walk home with you. Take my arm, child?you are out of breath !" And, blushing more deeply than ever, Hester obeyed. When they were all at home once more, that evening, Mr. Lackington looked kindly around at the group of little ones, in the fire-light. "Children," said Mr. Lackington, "I have something to tell you. 1 shall bring you home a new mother next week 1" "We?we don't want any new mother!" said Bessy. "Least of all. a wieuv old thing like that !" said John. "And if you do marry her, sir," said Hubert, with dignity, "we are resolved to go and live with Ilester. "We like Hester!" "So do I, children," said Mr. Lackington, looking as if he had just found the clew to some puzzle. "I like Hester, and it is Hester who is to be your new mother!" "And not old Mrs. Gregory V" said Louisa, with a shriek of joy. "Not the old lady at all!" said Mr. Lackington. with a little grimace. And the children all hugged and kissed their father at once, until he was fain to cry for quarter. "We are so glad !" they exclaimed in chorus. "We all love Hester!" So the young step-mother came to a joyful household?and the only one who was not entirely satisfied with the arrangement was Mrs. Gregory! Hut she couldn't help herself, and so she wisely held her tongue.?Shirley Lrewne. Earth's 1,0west Land.?A letter in the San Francisco Chronicle gives the following description of a visit to Death's Valley in the * desert region of California: On the 17th of July last, with a train of five mules and two companions, one of whom was ttnvfLillc fomiliov ti'ifli nniinfvir I r?1imno/1 pal i.janjt idiiiii idi >1 mi tu^ uuiuni j , x (.IIUIU^I the summit of Cerro Gordo. At last we stood upon the lofty ridge of the Telescopes, and beheld below us the fateful valley, which lies 280 feet below the level of the sea and extends for a hundred miles northwest and southwest, with a width of from thirty to forty miles from east to west. Upon no landscape can one look so deeply into the interior of the earth, for it occupies the lowest point of dry land upon the continent, and, so far as I am informed, of the earth itself. Before us it lies, a long, deep, wide, vast basin, its shining patches disclosing through the distance its beds of soda, salt and borax, which cover thousands of acres and blaze of light and heat which pours upon them from a cloudless sky. The valley's deep declension grows upon the senses and becomes more marked as the eye is held steadily upon it, and it is emphasized by the swift declivity of the inclosing mountains. Drear and desolate it stretches its full length along in a frame of painted mountains, which define, in strong and mighty lines, its aspects of terror. Though leaving the summit at 3 P. M. and riding steadily down descending trails night settled upon us before we escaped from the canyon and reached the borders of the valley. By the brilliant moonlight we are enabled to truce me truii aiong me rucny wasnes we rode on into the night. At last worn and weary with hours of riding, we reached the centre of the valley, known as the "Big Hole," the point of greatest depression. Though time and exploration have drawn from out the ancient story most of its fearful threads, this is still Death's Valley and is still and will remain a region of dread. Indians familiar with its face from infancy know its treachery and cannot be prevailed on to go into it beyond their time worn trails. To the lost emigrant it was "the valley of the shadow of death." The daring prospector enj ters it with fear. He knows its terrors, and the bleaching bones of many a skeleton warn him to beware. Once lost within its embrace, and a man's doom is written. Without water to cool his fevered frame, the sweltering air drives him to agony and bewilderment. Confused, he wanders without aim. Reason, unseated by fantasy, gives imagination rein to play tricks with his judgment. Beholding heaven at last in the mocking waters of the mirage, he sinks to die in the llame of the desert. Cause ok Chills and Feveil?Speaking of the prevalence of malaria, the correspon| dent of the Hartford Times says: Professor j Chandler, the head of our New York Board of T T # ?.?! 4 li 1/.,..* f"> i wl rxnf Av?nf_ I iiruiiu, u/ii? uiiuri iwurv iv/ uiivi v/iii/ cajivuly what produced chills and what remedies could be applied at the root of the disease? quinine was all very well, but the sight of a whole people dosing themselves for a trouble unknown forty years ago, and evidently due to sonic error of modern life, was not pleasant. So letters were sent to physicians all around New York and the united wisdom of the profession brought into play. The verdict was, on the part of city men, sewer gas coining into houses through imperfect drains and pipes. The country doctors found the chief cause of the evil in the proximity of cess-pools and wells. The result of the wide publication in New York, of reports upon malaria, and the sudden fashion among physicians of attributing every ailment, from birth to death to malaria, has given rise to a new profession?that of Sanitary Engineer?and added a business to the city's industry, before the peculiarities of which, the plumber turns pale with envy. Miscellaneous Reading. SOMETHING ABOUT VIOLINS. Louis Blumenburg, the violoucello virtuoso, has been spending his between seasons at his home in Baltimore. When your correspondent dropped in lie was contemplating his instrument with a dissatisfied air. The amber varnish of the violoncello shone with its wonted mellow lustre, its long neck was firmly erect, its carved head thrown back in true Stradivarius pose, and the strings, as they were fretted by the virtuoso's fingers, emitted sonorous notes. "What is the matter V" was asked. "I can't tell exactly," was the reply. "It is tired and needs a rest. If I lay it .aside for a week or so, it will regain its perfection of tone, without anything else being done to it. It is a hard thing to explain, and it is a fact familiar to every artist. If you use an instrument too much it loses its tone?not enough, perhaps, for the average auditor to perceive, but the artist knows it." "Maybe the trouble is then with the artist himself?losing the precision of his touch from over-practice," said tfirfcaHer. "That is the explanation which most naturally occurs to one, but it is not good. The trouble is with the instrument. Every artist meets with it, and has to keep more than one in use. Wilhelmj has to lay his Stradivarius violin aside occasionally, and use his Gemunder until the Stradivarius is rested. Every man who uses a razor knows that it gets tired from too much use, and regains its temper from being laid aside for a while, and it is the same with musical instruments. Tone is a puzzle anyhow. A crack in the belly of a violin or 'cello you might think would be fatal to tone from its interception of sound vibrations, but sometimes cracks seem to cause an improvement. Instruments that are well treated improve by age. It may be that the rich tones of a fine Stradivarius or Guanerius are due largely to their age, and that the exquisite mellow quality which we find in them is the acquisition of years. Guillaume who was, in his time, a celebrated Paris maker, is now in disrepute because the fine tone which he imparted to his instruments was not lasting. He had some process for medicating the wood of his instruments that gave them strength and softness of tone, but age, instead of improving them, impaired their quality. Then, again, the tone of instruments seems to result from happy chance adjustments of their parts which cannot be repeated with any certainty. The masterpieces of the Cremona school now in existence maybe strokes of good fortune that the old makers themselves could not always certainly effect. You see that the bridge of my 'cello here is not a particularly fine looking bit of wood. Sometime ago when I happened to drop into an instrument maker's shop he said : "I have got a splendid piece of maple 150 years old, just the thing to make you a new bridge." Well, he made the bridge and it looked right and seemed to fit right, but when I tried it the strings didn't sound right. I worked with it for some time, but finally had to give it up. Then the bow has a great deal to do with the tone. Its wood must be strong and at the same time slender and light; it must be firm without being rigid, and must have perfect evenness of texture, so as to give the same quality of percussion from whatever point it may be applied to the strings. There are celebrated makers of bows as well as of instruments. The hupot bow is famous. The maker was a Frenchman who nourished in the first quarter of this century. He got hold of a fine lot of Pemambuco wood, and all his bows were made of selected pieces. A good Lupot bow is worth 8100. An ordinary bow, which would look as if it were just as good, can be bought f?jr $5. mi. .. ^1,1 it 13 el iiciiti tiling tu iiuiu kjl cv nut vm instrument," the virtuoso went on, the 'cello strings are now sounding in melancholly chords under his straying fingers. "I believe I told you that Wilhelmj plays a Stradivarius. Kemenyi has quite a collection, but generally plays an Amati. Ole Hull had a large violin by one of the earliest makers of the Cremona school, Gaspard da Salo. Some fine instruments are in the hands of amateurs. Assistant Secretary of State Hunter has a violoncello of Stradivarius tone, if not of that make. Ex-Mayor Ilavemeyer, of New York, although not himself a cello player, I believe, paid about $2,500 for a Guanerius. It is the rich amateur who runs up the price of such instruments until they are out of the reach of the poor artist. There is a manufacturer of garden tools in Ilartford, who has a splendid collection of violins, and yet, so far as his own playing is concerned, an ordinary fiddle would do him just as well as a Stradivarius. In his collection is the famous King Joseph Guanerius violin. It is a wonderful instrument. I can't describe to you the power, softness and sweetness of its tones. They are exquisite. I suppose he could get four or five thousand dollars for that violin at any time. It is almost impossible to appreciate the value of such an instrument. He has a collection of fifteen bows that*would bring from $1,500 to $2,000. No instruments could be better cared for than those of his collection; but, strange as it may seem, there are persons with a mania for collecting instruments who don't know how to take care of them when they get 1 - UlCIIl. I KlieW H DitllWIUUlC CUllCUl/ui \yiiw had violins all over his house, often in places where they were liable to be broken at any time. I was up stairs in his house once, and was going to sit down on a bed when he shouted to me to look out?that a violin was in there. Sure enough a violin was struck under the bedclothes, because he was too careless to get a bag for it. I once came across a fine 'cello in a town of central New York, owned by a man who can't phiy it, doesn't take proper care of it and yet won't sell it. If it were not for such men artists would not have to make great sacrifices to get instruments with which they can realize their conceptions. Of course they must have fine instruments. Nothing less will content thein, even though audiences should be just as well satisfied to hear any well-made instrument as the divine voice of a Stradivarius." THE USES OF AN ENEMY. Always keep an enemy on hand?a brisk, hearty, active enemy. " . Remark the uses of an enemy. 1. The having one is proof that you are somebody. Wishey-washy, empty, worthless people never have enemies. Men who never move, never run against anything ; and when a man is thoroughly dead and utterly buried nothing ever runs against him. To be run against is proof of existence and position ; to run against something is proof of motion. 2. An enemy is, to say the least, not partial to you. He will not flatter you. lie will not exaggerate your virtues. It is very probable that lie will slightly magnify your faults. The benefit of that is two-fold ; it permits you to know that you have faults, and are, therefore, not a monster, and it makes them of such size tis to be visible and manageable. Of course, if you have a fault you desire to know it ; when you become aware that you have a fault you desire to correct it. Your enemy does for you this valuable work which your friend cannot perform. li. In addition, your enemy keeps you wide awake. 11 e does not let you sleep at your post. There are two that always keep watch, namely, the lover and the hater. Your lover watches that you may sleep. lie keeps olf noises, excludes light, adjusts surroundings, that nothing may disturb you. Your hater watches that you may not sleep. lie stirs you up when you are napping. He keeps your faculties on the alert. Even when he does nothing he will have put you in such a state of mind that you cannot tell what he will do next, and this mental 71 u vice must be worth something. 4. He is a detective among your friends. You need to know who your friends are, and who are not, and who are your enemies. The last of these three will discriminate the other two. When your enemy goes to one who is neither friend nor enemy, and assails you, the indifferent one will have nothing to say 01 chime in, not because he is your enemy, but because it is so much easier to assent than tc oppose, and especially than to refute. But your friend will take up cudgels for you on the instant. He will deny everything and insist on proof, and proving is very hard work. There is not a truthful man in the world that could afford to undertake to prove one-tenth of all his assertions. Your friend will call your enemy to the proof, and if the indifferent l>erson through carelessness, repeats the asseri tions of your enemy, he is soon made to feel the inconvenience thereof by the zeal your friend manifests. Follow your enemy around and you will Arid your friends, for he will have developed them so that they cannot be mistaken. The next best thing to having a hundred real friends is to have one open enemy.?Dr. Deems. + + .+ KNOWLEDGE OF THE ANCIENTS. "We talk of modern progress ; we gaze with pride upon this invention and that, which we fondly believe originated in our day and generation ; we consider ourselves, in fact, sui tjeneris. So short sighted are we, or so heedless, that we fail to acknowledge our debts to the past. The railroad dates back to Egypt, says Wendell Phillips, and Arago claims that they had a knowledge of steam. Humboldt in his "Cosmos" says that the Chinese 1,000 years before bur era had magnetic carriages with which to guide themselves across the great plains of Tartary, on the principle of the compass The liomans used movable types; a magnifying lens of rock crystal with true optical lense?the origin of the microscopewas found in Ninevah ; experiments foreshadowing photography to be made more than three centuries ago, the principle of the stereoscope was known to Euclid, modem tunneling was anticipated by that under the Euphrates at Babylon. Aristotle's mental philosophy has hardly received any new suggestions or marked improvements from modern thinkers. So-called spiritual manifestations, such as table turning and spirit writing, have been practiced in China from time immemorial, before Confucius was born. Egyj>tian sculpture aud hieroglyphs demonstrate the existence of mesmerism in those early days. Balaam evidently consulted a clairvoyant?"a man in a trance with his eyes opened." A man appeared before Aristotle who could read on one sute 01 a uraren smem wn;n whs written 011 the other. Plautus in one of his plays says: "What and although 1 were by my continual slow touch to make him as if asleep?" The principles of Fourierisra are discussed in the ."Confessions of Augustine." Even the iced cobblers, upon which we pride ourselves as original concotors, were described several centuries ago : "A cup of snow water into which was sprinkled sugar, and mixed with it the juice of grape." Marcus Aurelius was in favor of free government?to use his own words?"the idea of a polity in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with regard to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of a kingly government which respects most of all the freedom of the governed." In Pompeii, during the process of exhumation, a room was found filled with glass of every description?cut, ground and stained. The Neapolitans were cleverer in their imitations than we are to-day. Their glass gems deceived the most practiced eyes, and the celebrated vase of the Geneva Cathedral, which was considered a solid emexald, according to the legend was the gift of Sheba's Queen to King Solomon, and the cup out of which the Saviour ate his last supper, was discovered to be no precious stone at all, only a clever, wonderful imitation. Leather cut in ornamental designs for wall decorations were found in Pompeii. Table draperies embroidered in applique were discovered in the tombs of Egyptian queens. Spectacles and several magnifying glasses must have been used as far back as Ninevah's proud reign; how otherwise could an entire treatise 011 mathematics be engraved on a stone twenty inches long and ten wide ? Cicero said he had seen the entire Iliad written 011 a skni, so that it could be rolled up in the compass of a nutshell, the writing of course so fine as to be indistinguishable to the naked eye! The Pompeian red glows as richly to-day as when put on by the artist who lived when Christ was born. Nero's retreat, built over fifteen hundred vears airo. llaslies out the undimmed colors of its painted walls, when modern light is admitted, while our pictures and raiment fade during the lifetime of a generation, Damascus blades are as perfect to-day as when they came from the maker's hands, eight centuries ago, yet our steel must be gilded before it can stand the atmosphere of Asia. We eat dessicated fruits and tlsh and meat, with the pleased assurance that the process is an outgrowth of Yankee ingenuity ; but in the tomb of the Ptolemies was found the dessicated liver of the great woman Pharaoh of the eighteenth dynasty.? Washington Republic. Tjie Newspaper in a Farmhouse.?People who live near the great thoroughfares, where they have access to two or three dailies and a half dozen weeklies, do not fully appreciate the value of a newspaper. They come, 1 1- thorn rt<a npppesitips mid HIUCCUj IU iuun u^un biivui ?% / uvvww...v?j x.?. , tliey would as cheerfully do without their morning meal as their morning mail. But one must be far off in the country, remote from "the maddening crowd," to realize the full luxury of a newspaper. The farmer who receives but one paper a week does not glance over its columns hurriedly, with an air of impatience, as does your merchant or lawyer. He begins with the beginning and reads to the close, not permitting a news item or an advertisement to escape his eye. Then it has to he thumbed by every member of the family, each one looking for things in which he or she is most interested. The grown up daughter looks for the marriage notices, and is delighted if the editor has treated them to a love story. The son who is just about to engage in farming, with an enthusiasm that will carry him far in advance of his father, reads all the crop reports and has a keen eye for hints about improved culture. The younger members of the family come in for the amusing anecdotes and scraps of fun. All look forward to the day that shall bring the paper, with the liveliest interest, and if by some unlucky chance it fails to come, it is a bitter disappointment. One can hardly estimate the amount of information which a paper that is not only read but studied can carry into a family. They have, week by week, spread before their mental vision a panorama of the busy world, its fluctuations and itsiconcerns. It is the poor man's library, and furnishes as much mental food as he has time to consume and digest. No one, who has observed how much those who are far away from places where men most congregate, value their weekly paper, can fail to join in invoking a blessing on tbe inventor 01 tins means of intellectual enjoyment.?Exchanyc. F u km ax's Formula.? As we have fully discussed Mr. Furbish Furman's remarkable farming experiments, and given his own scientific plan of operations, a reproduction of his compost formula may not be out of order. We quote from the Constitution : Layer. Furman's Formula. Cost. 1?30 bushels stable manure or rich earth from woods or fence corners, estimated OOu pounds '2?100 pounds acid phosphate $1 124 2?'200 pounds kainit or German salt 70 3?900 pounds (30 bushels) cotton seed 3 75 1?200 pounds phosphate 2 25 4?10J pounds kainit 70 2,4<)i) pounds $!> 55 Of this compost Furinan used 4,000 pounds adding another layer of stable manure and , cotton seed. A compound of any smaller . weight can be made by a proportionate reduc, tion on each layer. Cost of cotton seed must . be greater now. We shall see how many farmers can do what ' Furinan has done, now that they possess his i recipe. Many a household has the best of cook books, but how few people can cook better by that instruction ! We remember that the late Col. John Forsyth could make an incomparable whiskey cock-tail. lie tried to show the i boys how it was concocted, but none of them had his hiutrk. u'Twas Greece, but living i Greece no more!" We fear that many a fari mer will follow Furman's formula, and yet fail to make Furman's crops. However, we ; hope for the best and trust that the formula i will make Georgia moi;e and more an imperial ; commonwealth so far as agriculture and its ! attendant blessings are concerned.?Auyusta ; Chronirle. THE GIVE-AWAY GAME. "Do you know," said a man who was sell! ing jewelry from a dry goods box to a reporter, j "that the Americans are the easiest hnrabugi ged of any in the world V It is true and 1 have I helped to humbug them about as much as the i average man." Somebody had just been reading an account of the Louisville lottery drawi ing, which brought forth this speech. "Can't you tell us some of your experience in that line ?" asked a man near. "Well, you would laugh to know what fools ! people make of themselves sometimes. About two years ago I was down in Brunswick, where I saw a fellow running a perfectly square game, but which was the most out and out steal I ever heard of. His plan was simple, and hundreds of the very best people of the town (locked to give him a trial. lie rented a store and put a show-case across the counter in the centre. In the show-case he had, I know, my hat full of ten and twenty dollar gold coins, piled in a heap in one corner, and in the other about the same sized pile of silver dollars. A dice-box and six dice completed his outfit. 13v oaviner half a dollar a man had one throw with the dice. If he threw six sixes he took the entire pile of gold ; if he threw six aces he was entitled to all the silver. Of course no one ever threw all the sixes, neither was it possible to get the aces to come all in a bunch. A man might as well expect to get struck by lightning from a cloudless sky at noonday as to throw six aces ; it is almost an infpossibility, that's all. Well, the fellow made several hundred dollars and left." "Did you ever hpar of how easy it is to fool a man with soap ?" continued the talker. "We street men know that as an old story, of course. I was down to Troy, Ala., several months ago, when a fellow came along almost strapped. lie went to a grocery store, bought a few bars of this transparent soap, cut it into small pieces about the size of one's thumb, wrapped it in colored tissue paper very neatly, and then covered the package with tin foil, sprinkling the whole with a bottle of cologne to give it a good smell. Well, sir, that fellow got on a box and soon gathered a crowd by some nice talking, and proposed to take out all the grease from hats, coats, &c., that could be brought in. The first case presented was the city marshal, who walked up with a great spot on his coat which he wanted taken out. The fellow carried a sponge well saturated with benzine and arnica, which of itself will take out almost anything, and by using a bit of the soap soon bad the marshal's coat entirely free from grease. That started the soap sales, and in two or three hours, it being Saturday and a crowd in town, the soap man had sold 836 worth, nearly all of which was clear profit." Stopping to draw a long breath the jewelry man continued his interesting story. "I tell you you can humbug anybody. I am not unlike the rest of the world. I believe I would bite at my own tricks if I could only get in the crowd." "While I was at Brunswick, Ga., some time ago, I took revenge 011 the town by playing what we term the 'giveaway racket.' It is a mighty tine thing to plav, but a very dangerous one in some localities. I had been using a big umbrella, large enough to cover fifty people, when one night on the street a crowd of sailors, led by some fifty of the town boys, threw rotten eggs at the umbrella and broke up the crowd. Then I resolved on the 'give away racket.' A fellow has to be mighty careful about working it, or he will get caught out. It can only be played once in a town. "The way to do it is this: Get a lot of fine gold rings which cost about a dollar a dozen and propose to be advertising some big gold concern In Mew York. I called mine the great brazed gold of San Francisco, stated that I would show the crowd a thing or two, and soon got them interested. First, I made a speech, in which I stated by business; then I commenced to offer the rings at any price from two cents up, telling them that they could not be bought for less than four dollars apiece at a jeweler's. I let out about twenty - -a ? J ^.1 1 1 1.^.1.. lings Hi iwo cuius, hiiu men uskuii eveijiuuuy who luiil bought rings to hold them up. Instantly every ring was in the air. 'Now,' said, I, addressing the crowd, 'this is your money, is it?' 'Yes,' said a dozen. 'And you give it freely for the rings ?' 'Yes,' came again in chorus. 'Very well, here's twenty cents for you, sir, and twenty cents for you, sir,' and so on around the crowd. They commenced to wonder what in the world I meant; said I was crazy and a lot of other things ; but I only told them I was advertising goods for my house and had plenty more things to give away. Next I took up my handsome diamond studs, which I explained were Lake George diamonds, equal to any on earth, &c., and that I was going to sell them from Uventy-five cents up *, the more one paid the better it would be, of course, for him. Twenty : studs were soon out and the same speech | made. Then I made the crowd hold up the | diamonds, and each man got fifty cents back | who had bought. "The thing began to get very interesting, and the crowd numbered 300 or 400. Then ; I got out some beautiful gold-plated sleeve buttons, which I explained, could not be bought for less than $1*2. These I proposed to sell for fifty cents esicli. civim? to all who bought a dollar additional as before, each time doubling the money gift. The buttons soon went off, as had the other things, and I was ready for the final 'bite' at the crowd. The twenty pair of sleeve buttons had been sold for half a dollar, and I had given back twenty silver dollars. 'That fellow's a darned fool,' I heard all around me, but I replied to this by saying that hist week, in Macon, I had given away $1,500, and that I was ready to do it again. "The crowd was perfectly crazy to see what came next. It was%watch chains. The chains I was to sell at any price from $2.50 to anyj thing above that one wanted to give, I telling them the while that the more they paid the better it would be for them. I hinted that the watches would come next, and this let them off like a lot of madmen. The trick was now to sell as many chains as possible at $2.50. I had a devil of a lot of chains, and so I sent them out right and left. The dollars came rushing blindly at me, and I raked them in like chaff. Then I got out of chains. "Previously I had prepared two big red silk ban kerchiefs, exactly alike, and as soon as the chains were all sold I took the money, and, in the presence of the crowd, tied it up all I together, and after making a speeh proposed j to throw the bundle in the crowd for the best ! man to take. While talking I purposely drop! ped the bundle into my little box by my side, j in which 1 had the other handkerchief. In i this was ten dollars in silver and some paper to make it stand out and look like the one I i had dropped. All this had been arranged be! forehand, of course. With a whoop, I swung the bag around my head after stooping to pick it up where I first dropped it, and up it went into the air. Great Heavens! you should have seen the mob! I never saw anything like it. They fought like tigers over the handkerchief, tirl.iln I nniiocirtn I II luilVP t.llP. SOot. I had rviixit' x tuui\ v;vu?iu<vn vw ? ? ?- ~t- - ? also arranged to bring the thing to a climax ! about the time the Albany train left; so I was driven at once to the depot, I was just $280 ahead. But I got very weak in the knees while waiting at the depot. I was a little too | soon, and about a dozen young men ran up, j raising the very mischief of a noise, which I ! thought was for me, and it proved to be true. ! They saw me and came around me laughing I and knocking each other like crazy men. I ! didn't know what on earth was the the matter ; until they finally told me it was the best joke j that had everbeen piayed on Brunswick, and, ' although they had been victimized, they want| ed to assure me it was all right. I "I had sold the chains to nearly all the best j men in Brunswick, some of them paying me I as high as $5 for them. I was satisfied to ! leave, and had my revenge. You may put it j down for a fact that any average American | crowd can be humbugged the same way every | day in the year." + + Facts.?Theoretically, questions of fact can I be answered without a possibility of fairly | questioning the correctness of the answer. Practically, facts are often as ditficult of demonstration as a proposition in moral philosophy. Let any one who doubts it attend, let us say as a juror, a few trials in some civil or criminal court. Again and again do witnesses, equally credibly contradict one another on matters concerning which it would seem that there should be no possibility of two opinions. One swears that the clock struck ten at a given time, another that it struck twelve. One swears positively that lie saw the accused commit the crime. Another swears that at the same moment he, the accused, was ten miles away. Do these witnesses lie V By no means. If it were a question of color, and there were a conflict of testimony concerning red and green, everybody would say "color blindness," of course, and the proper tests would be applied. Hut if eyes play tricks under known conditions, what guarantee have we against unheard-of freaks under unknown conditions V Our Continent. TEACHING GIRLS TO WORK. An exchange, in discoursing upon the w* cessity and also the propriety of teaching girls to work, says that mothers often make a great mistake in so neglecting this teaching. The idea that the whole time out of school should be devoted to play is a fallacy. Many girls grow up to womanhood without knowing how to perform the simplest duties of a home, because the patience to tejich her was not possessed by the mother. It is astonishing how much may be accomplished by little hands trained to do the lighter house work of a family. If each child is made to feel that she is of some importance, and that the work she has to do is a help to mother, it will make the duty a pleasure rather than a task. Each child should have certain duties to perform, and do them regularly and well. If most of the work is done by servants, perhaps it is not necessary that the daughters be obliged to do much housework, but they should have some duties to perform so that they may learn how to work, and how work should be done. One of the first things to be taught girls is the care of their room. As soon as children are old enough they should have their own room, with convenient places for their clothing, and should be obliged to keep their things in order. When they takeoff garments they should hang them up or arrange them in their proper places, and never leave them for some one else to put away. Dusting furniture nicely requires a good deal of time, and may be done well by small hands, which are not strong enough to do sweeping. Washing dishes and putting them carefully in their places is an accomplishment which they can learn also. Other things they can learn gradually as they grow older, until they have fully mastered theart of housekeeping. If the task of training is not an easy one, mothers will feel amply repaid in after years for all their patient teaching when they see their daughters grow up witli a selfreliant, useful womanhood, learn in all the love of which women should l>e mistresses, making a home that should be beautiful and glorified by her own hands and her own spirit . of independence. A Triijute to the Farmers;?In his ad dress at the owning of the "Wisconsin State Fair, Governor liush said : "Agriculture is the foundation of the business and prosperity of the whole country. When the toil of the farmer is utterly lost; when, after planting and tending and waiting the harvest time brings no harvest to him, every industry and every interest instantly feels it. IIow completely a series of crop failures, or even a short crop, paralyzes the business of the country! So a series of good crops stimulates every business and revives every drooping industry. The railroad lines.lengthen, the rolling mills are busy, the iron mine, the saw mill, the lumber camp, are all scenes of activity, and every instrument of commerce is in use. The hum of the machinery is the natural accompaniment to the songs of the harvest field. The daily published telegrams from the money centres of the world is an unconscious daily tribute to agriculture and the farmer as the prime factor in com merce. They note and chronicle every frost, every rain, every hostile insect, as carefully as the physician the symptoms of his patient. Stocks go up and down with the varying reports as to wheat and corn. The Wall street gambler who never heard the meadow lark in the fields, reads with as eager interest the news from the grain fields as one fearing for a friend vould read the casualties of a battle. But such a tribute is temporary and compulsory. It springs from selfishness mostly, and the crop assured, indifference to agriculture proclaims itself too ofteh in an undue levy upon the crop for carriage and in other ways, which I have hot time to mention. With the growth of the country increased prosperity and the multiplied and splendid educational facilities, our colleges, universities, academics and other institutions of learning are filling up with ambitious farmer boys, vigorous in body and mind, bent upon acquiring knowledge. This is well They make good students and scholars, but 1 have feared that too many of them rather disdainfully turn from farm life to the professions as being a step higher. I would like to impress upon such * young men that they are mistaken in this There is in a true sense no "step higher" from the calm, thoughtful, independent life of the intelligent farmer." What Aiie Clouds V?Though the clouds are such familiar objects, very little is known about them, ami the processes by which they are formed and give back their moisture to the earth are unsolved mysteries. They can not be classified as belonging to the solid, fluid, or gaseous form of matter. Yet they are defined as being "a collection of watery particles in the state of vapor, suspended in the air." If they are ordinary vapor, they must be governed by the laws which affect vapors. Brande defines vapor thus : "When liquids and certain solids are heated, they become converted into elastic liuids or vapors, which differ from gasses in this respect, that they are not under common circumstances permanently elastic, but resume the liquid or solid form when cooled down to ordinary temperature." According to this definition, clouds can not be composed of ordinary vapor, for under all conditions their temperature must be below the condensing point of water-vai?or. At the elevation at which clouds are often seen, they are in the regions of perpetual congelation ; and as they float above the highest mountains they must lie exposed, even in the sunshine, and certainly in the night, when the solar heat is not poured upon them, to temperatures colder than those of the frigid zones.? C. Morfit, in Popular Science Monthly. Don't Frighten Children.?The Macon Graphic tells the following sad story : Those who were at the depot the other evening might have seen a sight that would forever have acted as a terrible warning against the senseless and almost criminal practice of frightening children. Mr. C. T. Armstrong, of Heard county, was carrying to Milledgeville, a driveling idiot only ten years old, that a few months since was a bright and intelligent boy. It appears that he and his elder brother were in their bedroom one night, when some one thoughtlessly or maliciously stuck a horse head or masked head of some kind in at the window, frightening the little boys so badly that they at once lost their reason, and shortly afterwards went blind. The older brother was first taken to Milledgeville, where hedied, and now the younger is going over, probably to share the same fate. Death, in fact, would be a relief to him, blind and idiotic as he is. The periietrator of such a hideous piece of folly will, no doubt, carry through life the lesson thus learned ; and, it is to be hoped that this sad story will be circulated throughout the country and have its due elt'ect. . The Meaning of "Bonanza. "?The Stork Report inquires the meaning of the word "bonanza." It Is a Spanish nautical term, meaning primarily a fair and hence a favoring wind, but it is employed by the Mexican miners to designate the i>eriod when they are in good ore, or in bonanza, in contradistinction to in borasca, or poor ground. It has been borrowed by our miners and given a more comprehensive significance, and, like many other words taken from foreign languages, have come into popular use to designate in a vague and general way any big thing or lucky stroke of fortune. lewis >i. grist, Proprietor, j Jlnbcpcnbent ^antilg. ftetospper: Jfor the |)romo(ion of tjje political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tjje Sont|. TERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 28. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1882. NO. 46.