Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, September 13, 1883, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

lewis m. grist, proprietor, j An Jnbcjjcitbcnf Jfamilj! Itduspajjcr: Jfor fljt |)roinotioit of t|c political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tbc Soutlj. ]terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 29. YOEKVILLE, S C.. THUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1883. " $>Itcted focttg. ? THE RING'S MOTTO. A lover gavo the wedding ring Into the goldsmith's hand; "Grave me," he said, "a tender thought Within the golden band." The goldsmith graved, With careful art? "Till death us part." The wedding bell rang gladly out; The husband said, "O, wife, Together we shall share the grief, The happiness, of life. I give to thee My hand, my heart, Till death us part." 'Twas she that lifted now his hand (O love that this should be!) Then on it placed the golden band. And whispered tenderly; "Till death us join, Lo, thou art mine And I am thine." "And when death joins we never more Shall know an aching heart: The bridal of that better love Death lias no power to part. That troth will he For thee and me Eternity." Sir. 11tho hill .ind down the hill. Through fifty changing years, They shared each other's happiness, And dried each other's tears. Alas! Alas! That death's cold dart Such love can part. But one sad day?she stood alone Beside his narrow bed; She drew the ring from off her hand And to the goldsmith said : * "Oh ! man, who graved With careful art, 'Till death us part." " "Now grave four other words for me, 'Till death us join.' " He took The precious golden band once more, With solemn, wistful look, And wrought with care, For love, not coin, "Till death us join." Ihe Jfotg idler. CAUGHT BY A THREAD. AN ENGLISH DETECTIVE'S STORY. Some of our fellows who have been relating histories in your paper have informed vou how they became detectives. All true, i believe; but there was no romance in my case. I took to the police force from liking. That being the case, and I being sober and industrious, i soon managed to become a ' 1 ? ond of la of U'OC mvon it;, iwiu iusc inpiuij, aim .w made a sergeant, receiving, beside my pay, what we call "intelligence money," which makes a very nice addition to our salary. So here I am, Sergeant Fox, of the detective force, and having introduced myself, I will go at once into my story. One day I happened to have a holiday, and took my w ife and children to a village beyond Hornsey where a friend of mine kept an old-fashioned public-house?a low, , rambling, comfortable place, as snug as you could wish. My old friend gave me a hearty welcome, and we had a glorious day. The children ran in the fields at the back of the house, and my wife and Mrs. Balmer?my friend's wife?sat in the bar parlor, while Balmer and myself smoked our pipes in the arbor at the bottom of the garden. Balmer had given us a warm welcome, but for all that I saw there was something the matter with both him and his wife. Fofc instance, when we were at dinner and tea, I noticed that now and then they would pause in the conversation and listen as if they expected to hear something. Once during the hitter meal Balmer jumped up and hurried out of the room; but he returned almost immediately, and saying quietly to his wife, "It's nothing, my dear," resumed the conversation as usual. This, of course, aroused' my curiosity, and I determined to know what the matter was before I left. "This is a fine old place, Harry," I said, as I puffed at my pipe. "Yes," he said, slowly, "I like it very much, so does the wife. Still, not as much aafi thought I should." "What's up now, Harry?" I demanded. "Why, after you had seen this old place, you did nothing but talk about it. Yet you have only been here some six or eight months, and you seem tired of it. Is the trade not as good as you expected?" "Oh, the trade is good enough. That's not it. Look here, Charlie, you might help me a little in this matter." "If I can, I am at your service," I re plied. "Well, then, the one great fault in this place is the want of kitchen room. We have only a small kitchen proper, as I may oall it, and a small back one?that over there, where you see the window," he said, as he pointed to a kind of outhouse. "The consequence is that we have to stow away a lot of things in the back kitchen that ought to be in the front one?things of value, too. Well, almost every night something disappears, and hang me if J can make it out." "Who have you in the house that you suspect?" "rsot a soul. 1 brought all my old servants with me, and they have been in my service for years. They are innocent." "Ilumph! As to that I don't feel quite so certain," said 1. "Have any of your female servants sweethearts?" "Not that 1 know. If they have they don't come here." "Why do you not keep the door locked? you say that it always happens at night?" "We can't do that," and here Harry Balmerwent into a long statement as to the necessity that that door should be left on the latch during the greater part of the evening. All of these reasons need not be mentioned here. .Suffice it to say that he proved to me that for business purposes it had to be left on the latch at certain times. "I can't understand it," he continued. "We have done evervthiner to discover how the thieves come in?taken every precaution, but all in vain. 1 clo believe my olh woman begins to think the house is haunted, and really it is very mysterious?very!" "Ghosts don't steal," said I. "Just come along with me and show me the place, and I will see what 1 can make of it." Well, he took me to the place, and I examined it carefully, and a queer one it was. Only a small back kitchen, with a copper sink,and the utensilsof that sort. ()nedoor opened into the garden, and another door opened on to a dark passage, and not into the front kitchen as is usually the case. The door of the front kitchen opened into the other, near the end of this passage, which was very narrow. There was a third door at the bottom of the passage, which opened into the bar. There was - " ' xi r 11 i notmng ro guide me mere; so 1 wiuki-u into the garden and examined it. It was a pleasant little place enough ; perfectly country, having no wall round it, and only a low paling, over which any one could leap. Then 1 looked at the country, which consisted of beautiful fields, through which ran the New river, which, indeed, came right under Harry's house, just at the back. 1 saw at once that if a man came in the house to steal things, he would have to cross the river by a bridge some quarter of a mile up, which led into a by-lane slanting down to ih" main road close to the corner of fhe Jolly Farmers, as I will call Henry's inn. "Well, what do you make out of it?" demanded Harry, who had been watching me closely. "I can't make it out," I said. "Just make a written statement of the facts and give it to me. I'll lay it down before my chief and ask him to send a man down to watch the case, llut mind you, do not let any one know that you have tokl me?not exen Mrs. Halmer. Women cannot keep secrets; its not their nature to do so. Perhaps I may come down myself; if so, I will I write and let you know when I am com| ing, and in what disguise, so that you may help me and not betray me by a sudden recognition." Well, to make a long matter short, he did aS I directed him, and I returned with i my wife and youngsters to town, and the next morning I placed the account before my : chief, asking to go down on the case for a few days. But I was disappointed, for ! I was wanted somwhere else, and a young ! fellow was sent. The case 1 was on caused me to be detained ! in Liverpool for a month, and when I had | carried it out successfully, I returned to J town, and the first thing I inquired about ; was whether Harry Balinerls thief had been | taken. "No," said the inspector: "that is a queer case. I sent Saunders down about it, but he I did 110 good. He watched the place eare! fully for a week, but could not discover any| thing, for while he was there nothing went; but the night of the day he left, a basketful ; of washing was stolen?something the next ! nigh't, and something the next, and so on. j I sent him down again, and the thieves I stopped directly. I can't make it out." "The thief knew Saunders," replied I, I "and while he was there would not run the risk. I have nothing to do now. I think I will have a turn at it." "You can, if you like, Fox," said the inspector; "but I do not think you will make much of it. Saunders took all sorts of disguises and failed, although he is not half so well known by the thieves of London, or of England, I might say, as you are." "Well. I'll have a trv. and if I do not catch the fellow in four days I'll give the matter up." This being agreed upon, I wrote off at once to Harry to tell him to prepare for me, and then set about for a disguise. For that purpose I selected a navvy's costume?namely, a sealskin cap, with the ear flaps pulled well down, a coarse cotton shirt with no collar, a red wool comforter, a fustian coat of the Newmarket cut, with large bone buttons, a long waistcoat with flapped pockets?of the same material as the coat? but left unbuttoned; trowsers of corduroy, fastened round the waist with a strap, and two little straps fastening them up below the knee, high enough up to show about two inches of blue worsted stockings, and a large, heavy pair of thick, high-low boots. Of course my hair was dyed, and my hands and face made up to suit the character. Thus equipped, I was ready, and, mounting the top of an omnibus, lit up my dirty stump of a black clay pipe and drove quietly down to Tottenham. There I entered one or two public houses [ where "navvies most do congregate," and I asked the landlord, or any navvies who happened to be present, if they knew a place round about where a poor fellow could get work. Everywhere but at one place I had the same answer?"Hard Times," "Place too crowded already," etc. But the single exception was nearly a poser for me. He was a stout, jolly fellow?seemed to take pity on me, and having asked if I could dig well, was about to engage me to dig up his garden. Luckily for me his wife happened to come into the bar, and bullied him for a fool who eneouragea an me mie, iuzy ienuws in uie world, and declared that I should not have a penny of her money, and complimented me by saying, loud enough for me to hear, that I looked more like a thief than a laborer. So the, honest landlord gave up engaging me. 1 made these visits so that I might enter Hornsey at the end farthest from London ; secondly, in case I was watched, to throw off suspicion ; and thirdly, I wished to see if I could come across any one I knew, for I was certain that the robberies at the Jolly Farmers were the work of no novice. How far I succeeded in my second object, of course I cannot tell, but I failed to recognize one face. it was dusk when 1 reached the Jolly Farmers, and, luckily, Harry was at the bar alone; so I gave him the "office," and he knew at once what to do, for I had told him in my letter. 1 nodded to some navvies and laborers who were in the bar,and then put my usual question, and got the general answer. "You seem to have come a long way, mate?" said Harry. "You're right, master: I have cornea long way. I'm going up to London to look for work. I s'pose you ain't got an odd job I can do foryou, just to earn a shilling or some supper, and a shake-down in a barn ?" Harry pretended to be considering, lor ne put his elbows on the pewter counter and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face as he said : "Well, I don't know. I might find you something to do. Here, May, just come and mind the bar for a moment." The girl came, and Harry, coming from behind the bar counter, opened the door leading into the passage and bade me follow him. No sooner had the door been closed than Harry turned to me and cried in a voice of wonder: "Why, Charlie, how the deuce did you learn to make up so eapitally? 'Pon my word I should never have known you if it had not been for your letter. Indeed, then, I don't think I should have done so, had you not tipped me a wink." "So much the better; but take care you do not betray me. Take me into the 'haunted kitchen'?for so we used to call the place? and I will set to work directly. Have you a new coat?a valuable one?" "Yes. Put what on earth do you want it for?" "To bait the trap. Go and get it for me, j at once, and bring me a reel of black cotton. | Go, and don't ask questions." Harry went oft' full of wonder, and speed ily returned witn tne required articles. Taking the coat I spread it over the copper, which, having been recently whitewashed, showed it up nicely. I then fastened the reel of thread to the back buttons of the coat, spreading the latter out as if it had been put there to dry. "Now, Harry," I said, "you must keep the women awav from this passage as much as possible. I must have it; so if any one is there using it, make some excuse to get them out. Now T will unwind some of this cotton and place it on the floor, as you shall see. If you carry out my orders to the letter, I warrant we shall land our fish to-night. If not, I shall be deeply disappointed." I paid out the line, taking care not to leave too much slack, passed it under both of the doors, and holding the reel in my hand sank into the appointed seat, which luckily was vacant, with all the air of a tired man. "I'll do the job for you, master," 1 said, as if still conversing about the business, "and be grateful. Let me rest a little while." "Do it when you get up to-morrow," said Harry. Well, there I sat and smoked, appearing every now and then to fall off fast asleep and to wake up with a start. This went on for three hours, when suddenly I felt aslight tug at the thread. The fish was nibbling, but I dared not be in a hurry. Presently I felt a different movement of the cotton and knew that the ? xi. ; ..r f on j UlK'l \\ IU> (lulling im UJ1U VI i Cautiously I put my pipe in my pocket j and then ^napped the cotton off close by the i reel. You will wonder why 1 did that? ; Well, how could I tell that a number of the i low fellows in tic bar might not have been his pals, and if I had been quick enough to open the door, dash down the passage, open the second door and arrest him, they would have made a rescue and most likely smashed the whole bar. Again, L should not have been quick enough to have arrested him. He would have bolted, and thieves are generally good runners; he would have had a j good start of me, and 1 made little doubt I that he knew the country thoroughly, which I 1 did not, and so would have been sure to escape. That would not have done for > me?I meant to make sure of my man. So, staggering from the chair, 1 slyly - showed Harry the reel, and growling out, ' "I'll be back directly, govnor," rolled out of the house in the manner of a drunken man. Once clear of the door, I turned down the j lane which I have described as running to i the river, for I knew that the thief having ' got clear of the house would make for the j bridge, come quickly down the lane, cut j through the main road, and make his way down some lanes into the middle of the | Seven Sisters road, where in a crowd it ; would be difficult to catch a trace of him. j I was not mistaken. There was my man, coming surging alopg at a good pace. A I perfect giant. I knew him directly. There { was no mistaking the immensely broad j shoulders, long legs and bullet head, or the huge strides he took. It was Arthur Blendel, a well-known thief, as bad a vagabond as ever walked. He was celebrated for boxing and wrestling, and was known to carry a dagger-knife with him, which he swore he would use on any policeman who attempted to arrest him. The fallow could run like a stag, so if I raised an alarm, he would have been off like a shot. If J attempted to arrest him he would kill me for a certainty, for I was no match for him?no, nor three such as me. How he managed to get Balmer's coat on was a mystery to me?it must have been because Balmer is very fat. I scarcely knew what to do, but I was not going to lose my man, so going up to him I said: "Hullo, Arthur, what are you doing up here ?" He started, for he knew my voice in an instant, and then said, in the regular thieves' whine: "Hello, Mr. Fox ! I think I should ask you what you are doing up here, and in that disguise, too!" "There has been a burglary at the Ferns down there?Major Crawford's house?and I'm on about it. "You don't suspect me?" he growled, as he stepped back a pace or two. "S'help me, I hav.e been miles away?" "Yes, yes; I know that. This has been done by country hands in collusion with one of the maids. I fancy I have a clew to the matter. But do you know that you are wanted, Arthur?" "Me! What precious put-up have you policemen made now? S'help me, a poor fellow can't work honestly for the perlice. But I won't be taken for nothing, so I tell you, Charlie Fox. I'd sooner be hanged for murder than quodded. So look out, Charlie!" As he spoke I saw the gleam of a knife in his hand, and I did not feel comfortable. "Don't be a fool, Arthur," I said; "I am not in the case. The put-up, as you call it, this time is for bigamy." "Bigamy!" he shouted with a roar of laughter, as he shut his knife, much to my relief. "Why, I never was married in my life. You know that, Mr. Fox?" "Well, so I said when I heard the charge, but the women swore to it, and each have their certificates." "Women! Ha, ha, ha, ha! And who are these blessed beauties?" "Sal Boyd?the Irish girl?and Mary Crew. I happened to call in at the policestation as I was coming out, and there they were at it. hammer and tongs. I bet they are both tnere now. If you take my advice you will go at once and face the matter. I'll go with you, and bear witness that to the best of my knowledge and belief you are not married, and also as to the characters of the girls." ' "Characters of the girls!" he muttered in virtuous indignation. "They ain't got none. But I'm on, sergeant. I'll give it to 'em. Married! Ha, ha, ha! Well, that is cheek. Come on sergeant, I shan't rest till I have faced the impudent hussies. And two such wives. Ho, ho, ho, ho!" Thus laughing and enjoying the joke he strode 011,1 having almost to run to keep pace with him. We reached the station, where I was glad to see a number of constables, to whom 1 gave the ottice; and then 1 placed him in the dock, and there he stood smiling impudently at the inspector. "What is the charge?" demanded the inspector, for he didn't like such familiarity. "Stealing a coat from the back kitchen of the Jolly Farmers, sir." Scarcely had I finished my speech than Arthur, uttering a yell of rage, attempted to leap the rail and get at me; but the policemen were 011 to him, and he was soon humidified and his boots taken off. Then such a torrent of abuse followed as I never heard in my life before. Of course the evidence convicted him. Harry swore to the coat, which was rather damaged in the t.issle, and there was the piece of cotton on the button. So, through my means, the strongest thief I have ever known was caught by a thread. TOO LATE. "How do you like her, Mac?" Young Dr. MacJames looked up at his* cousin a second before answering. "My dear, if she were worth ten thousand, 1 would marry her to-morrow. She is a girl that ten years from now will make a mark, and will do honor even to a MacJames." His cousifi, fair golden-haired. Carrie, was silent, and outside the door in the hall Miriam had come, all unheard in her slippered feet, but not unhearing, and stood silent also. ?'?" vw?t 1'oin cm folt o cfnimrM .1<> DUG W ao Iivu YU1U) nv iviv ui-Aiviihv ,.W light in this man's words, cruel and heartless as they were. But she was proud and sensitive, and her eyes flushed, and something of the superb power that heartless MacJames prophesied fbr her ten years hence thrilled her as she stood there. Then she shivered as she thought how easily she could have been won by this handsome, careless man had she been wealthy. Won, but, alas! not loved. She crept quietly away, wondering if she could ever be anything to be proud of, anything but a poor, badly-paid school-teacher. "I'm thirty to-day. "Once I should have thought myself old at this age, with the best of life past, and little before me to enjoy. "But now I am very happy, thankful, and content." Miriam Roscoe was looking across the blue sea waters, her hands resting upon the railing of the balcony, her calm, sweet face grave and thoughtful. The people 011 the beach below looked up at her, and marvelled at so much beauty. Every passer-by took a second gaze at Miriam Roscoe. "Who is she; asked William Mac.James of his friend, Jack Herbqrt. "Miss Roscoe." k'ls that all there is to say of her?" "No. I might talk all day of her, and you would be just as little acquainted." "What is this mystery about her? You have not been quarreling with her?" "No, we arc good menus. J Knew your I questions were prompted by mere idle curiI osity, so I thought it better to wait until you i met her." j "Hut who is she?" "A lady who has won a lair lame and unI expeetediy inherited considerate wealth. I She has met trouble and sorrow that would j have crushed a woman less brave, and now i from it all she brings a nature so thoroughly I pure, that men are made better for her I living." "She is wealthy and famous, you say, and yet unmarried ?" "Yes, Mac, even an old maid, if you : like. "Hut no one ever thinks of that." Jack Herbert frowned, and there was a ri ng of grave displeasure in his usually sweet, strong voice. This question angered him, even when coming from a friend. I\.. "Vf .>/. T.i iiiiw ) f liiki le.linlvmiw I'lK j 171. lUilVUlllllv.; ?..w "?viv, I diluting unci worldly-minded, turned again i to look at the white-robed figure, whose appearance at Newport had caused so much 111 uttering among the butterflies of fashion. i An hour later, as the two friends returned J from their stroll, they saw Miss Hoscoetight| ening the reins over her high-stepping horses. ; "By Jove ! those are magnificent animals!" exclaimed Dr. MacJames. "Yes,and she handles them perfectly too." And Herbert's dark eyes flashed, and a ! \ I wonderful light swept over his face with the ; smile and bow he gave Miss Roscoe, while ! she gave a glance at both, but a smile to j only one, as she dashed by. I The fastidious man of fashion was smitten. That evening,at a party, Jack 1 lerbert in- c ! troduced lier to his friend. j ti She rose, smiling graciously, a thorough \ n : lady, with no pretense of girlishness. a Her eyes were clear, brave, and tender,; e j her face one that changed with every i fi I thought, but was very pure and true. j a The season was nearly over before Dr. j c MacJames could summon sufficient courage j si 1 to meet his fate. ; h One night Miss Roscoe was standing on i a the balcony, listening to the ever beautiful ti music of the ocean's roar, when Dr. Mac- t< James found her there, looking, he said, tl like t?he picture of a saint. p "Did you come to escape the crowd?" he n asked. * d "No. Had the crowd been here, I should d have staid. I love the sea so much." n "But you neglect the pleasures of the fi dance." n "I never dunce," she answered, "and so n no pleasures are missecL" n "I missed you, ami smirched until I found o you here?dreaming." g "Yes, dreaming?or perhaps, thinking of Ii my past life." I " Your past, like the glorious present must a be good to remember." ri "I was only thinking of the starting point, o Shall we return ?" "Not unless you wish it, Miss Itoseoe, for C I have wanted to see you alone, but have not g been able to do so. You must know what e it is I have to tell you, for no man can be in v the sunshine of your presence without?iov- g ing you. Oh, Miriam, I love you ! Nay, IV love is too cold a word to express my feel- e ings. Will you be my wife, Miriam ?" S Dr. Mac James was pale with the great s passion which had thrilled his soul. \\ His eyes were burning and bright as they u searched her face for one tender look, and h his hand, which had taken hers, closed over ei it with a fierce, overmastering grasp. She was looking away across the sea. b Presently she turned and faced him. tl Then, in the coldest tones, she asked? p "Is it myself, or my money, that you tl would marry?" t< All the scorn and subdued feelings of 13 twelve years rang out in that clear, cold, d but proud voice. t< "Yourself! What care I for wealth ? p Come to me penniless. I have wealth v enough for both, or I will work for you. "Only tell me you will be mine." ? "Wait, Doctor MacJames, until I repeat 'g your words of twelve years ago. Let me d show you how well I can remember. b "You said of Miriam Itoscoe, the poor ii friendless school-teacher, "If she were tc worth ten thousand, I would marry her to- b morrow!" "I am worth four times that now, es and you come saying that you love me. p "Had you said so then, the poor girl would ai would have believed you, and Miriam Itos- it coe would have been your wife. "But? " hear me?I am glad you did not say it, for ft when I crept away, after hearing your cut- si ting words to my friend?your cousin Carrie? 01 I determined to be 'worthy a MacJames.' \\ "Years ago, I should have thought your it offer made to-night to be the best in the n world. "Now 1 can only say that I am tl sorry if you suffer through caring forme." tc The sweet voice was silent; the waves ft moaned and sobbed like some doomed lost li soul. a "Is there no hope?" he asked. *1 "None." <1 "Oh, Miriam, can you not forgive my o youthful, foolish and mercenary words? p Miriam, let me live.fur.you,.and prove my P love by that!" Iler face turned white as his, and a look of pain came to her grave eyes. a Then softly, with world of tenderness in u her tone? p "I can give give you no hope, for I inn ti engaged to marry Mr. Herbert. We have tl loved each other for a long time. tl A grasp for breath, and the strong Dr. p MaeJames had fainted. The love of his life had come too late. a Jack Herbert led Miriam away from the balcony, thinking that his friend would re- n cover quicker if he did not awake to see the ti one he loved so intensely. b Herbert and Miriam were married quiet- I' ly the following day, and, as at tirst, they o still continue to walk in the glory of perfect love. \\ A Tot'dii Story.?A very, very tough story in which a chicken, a rat, a cat, a dog 1, and boy were the principal characters, was p going the rounds in East End, Louisville, j, recently. The story is vouched for by good j authority, and 011'this account is all the ' more remarkable. Mr. Sam McCurdy was j sitting 'neath the shade of a tree in the back yard of his residence on Clay, near ' Franklin street, talking to some friends, L when his attention was called to a hen with a brood of young chickens and a large rat that had just emerged from its hole and 1 was quietly regarding the young chickens, with the prospect of a meal in view. As the rat came from his hole the house-cat awoke from her afternoon nap and caught sight of the rat. Crouching low, she await- Ti m 1 ilovolnnni^nti: mul ??tnnr] nrennrod to 1: V/V* VI\,fV?V?|.i.tV MVU, tW>X* J 1" spring upon his ratship. At the appear- i> ance of his ancient enemy, the cat, a Scotch o terrier, which had been sunning itself in r< the woodshed, pricked up his ears and qui- r< etly made for the place where the cat stood, ri At this moment a boy named Andy Quaid came upon the scene. The chickens were t< not cognizant of being watched by the rat, \\ nor did the rat see the cat, nor the feline tl the dog, who had not noticed the coming of 1 the boy. A little chick wandered too nigh si and he was seized by the rat, which was in t< turn pounced upon by the cat, and the cat I) was caught in the mouth of the dog. The lc rat would not cease his hold on the chicken, j o and the cat, in spite of the shaking she was s< getting from the dog, did not let go the rat. | tl it was fun for the boy, and in high glee he 11< watched the contest and the struggles of j g each of the victims. It seemed to him that j the rat was about tojescjipe after a time, and, o seizing a stone, he hurled it at the rodent, j h The aim was not good, and the stone struck i h the dog right between the eyes. The ter- j u rier released his grip on the cat and fell tl over dead, it had breathed its last before v the cat in turn let go the rat and turned h over and died. The rat did not long sur- 1 vive the enemy, and by the side of theal- b ready dead chicken he laid himself down a and gave up the ghost. The owner of the e dog was so angry at his death that he is said to have come near making the story com- n plete by killing the boy that killed the dog tl that shook the cat that caught the rat that tl bit the chicken on Clay street. ! v - -?- ; i; Foi l Aik in Horsix?If the air of a e room smells sweet there is apt to he no s I consideration of the danger which may still j h lurk in the atmosphere in gases and organ- | ii ic impurities whose natural odors are sub-1 a dued by something stronger. When foul j h j gases cannot be detected by the nose, de- j ( fective drains will not be repaired, much j e i less examined for hidden defects. Theonly ! n | safety from sewer gas is to bar it out of the j e J house; and when this can be done so easily b : and so positively, it is fairly criminal that I it should not be done. As to foul air, there j v need be none in a house except such as j tl j comes from the breath, and caused by the 1 11 j excretions of the skin; this may be, also, [ d ] quickly and easily removed by a simple ! b j ventilation through a grate or stove. There j h i need be no refuse within the four walls of a g I house, nor, indeed, near it, without the 1 h j walls, if people would respect the plain re- j t1 1 quirenients of decency. As to the "fungus 1 ii ! germs"?whatever they may be?dry walls, | y ' dry foundations and dry rooms will prevent h their growth. As to diffusing "disinfecting 1 ii ! agents," disinfection in destroying the germ ! ii 1 of disease means the destruction of human ; li i as well as germ life. No vapor will destroy 1 h the germs, or poison, of small-pox, scarlet | <1 fever or diphtheria, which maybe supported ' ti by sewer gas, that will not also destroy the e person that breathes it. ' 11< tribute tuts ?lc?(liu|}. ! THE WAY PEOPLE DIE. I { "The ideal death," said a physician in 1 barge of one of the New York city hospi- t ills, to a reporter of the ?S'mi, "was that of f i.v uncle, lie was a hale, hearty man of SO, j 1 bachelor, wealthy, and surrounded with j f very comfort, in a beautiful home not far i :om New York. He arose one morning j 1 pparently in perfect health. Ilis buoyan-1 s y of spirits was noticed. He was singing ! 1 nine ofthequaintold Scotch songs of his boy- j 1 ood. 1 Ie expected a visit from me, and he ; i rose from the table after a hearty and par-1 c ial meal, saying that he would drive down j 1 n the depot, not far away, and bring me to t he house. He had the servant bring then onies to the door, and refused to let the lan go with him, saying he preferred to ! rive himself. He mounted the box and c rove off at a smart pace. The old gentle-! c lan had not driven more than a few rods j s om his own house when lie was met by a t eighbor who noticed something strange in ii is appearance. His horses stopped. The si eighbor dismounted, and went to the side (i f his carriage and spoKe to mm. j ne oiu j entleman did not answer. He sat upright (] 1 his seat, holding the reins in his hand, s le was dead, lie had passed away without c shock of any kind. There was no appa- i ?nt cause of his death, which was probably <; ccasioned by heart disease." a Dr. L. L. Seaman, physician-in-chief of \ harity hospital, Blackwell's Island, took 1 reat interest in observing the much vaunt- \ d death scenes of Sarah Bernhardt, and e hen once started on the subject he is apt to t ive a judgment of the great actress' per- I >rmances somewhat different from the gen- e ral conclusions of the dramatic critics. 1 peaking on this subject the other day, Dr. > eaman said that Mile. Bernhardt had seven e ays of dying, and all of them were totally 1 nlike anything he had ever seen in a medial practice covering many thousands of N ases of all kinds of death. ;j "Of course I do not hold myself responsi- 2 Ie for the deaths in my hospital any more r tian for the births," said Dr. Seaman. "My c atients come in when they are almost in v lie last moments of life. Many are known s ) be absolutely beyond hopes of recovery. a !ut my observation convinces me that the [ ramatists and actors have far over-estima-. j 3d the pains of death, and especially the ^ ossibilities of great mental effort just preious to the moment of dissolution. ] "It is, in fact, about its difficult to tell j hen a man dies as to determine when he a oes to sleep. Death is a gradual, not a sud- 0 en process. I am speak tug now of death e y disease, not of violent death. Possibly a i the representation of violentdeaththeac- a )rs may come SO mown ere near Hie irum, g ut generally their pictures of death by (lis- g ise, are, to one who knows the truth, si 111- t ly ridiculous. Dissolution is as painless f, nd unconscious as birth. The approach to (j may be protracted and painful. There p lay be long and agonizing scenes resulting n oin disordered imagination. J)eath de- t; ;roys one organ after another, not all at v nee. The last organs to yield are the lungs, (j rhich show their oppression in the breath- i lg and produce what is termed the death ,] ittle. As soon as the lungs cease to act, s ie black venous blood is no longer changed 0 ) arterial blood, but is propelled unpurined om the heart, and thus poisons the body ke a narcotic. The energies of the brain .. re gradually lulled as in the approach of v eep, and unconscious cerebral action pro- .. uces the murmur of friends, or recollections f past life, or reference to whatever has assed through the mind- But that there is j, ain in natural death 1 have long ceased to u el i eve. (| "The death of a healthy person is always n very different thing from the death of a (. iseased person. 1 n cases of accident, where v ersons know they must die in a very short t me, unless the shock has not been too great, (] icy preserve their customary trains of s lought; they direct their affairs with com- j osure." e "Have you ever known persons to die in ? comical mood ?" ^ "There are historical eases. Douglass Jer- fj old is reported to have said : "Why tor- ,, ire a dying creature, doctor 7" aim everyody remembers the dying joke of Robert a urns: "Don't let the awkward squad tire 1 ver me.'" ,1 "It must be remembered, however, that j hat are called the last words of gfeat men j lay have been uttered a considerable time ^ efore death?either hours or days. Some . llowanec must be made for the impossibili- J. v of procuring testimony. When the late j )r. Heard died, alter having become wide- s ; known as an intelligent and educated j, iceptic, his sister proclaimed that he had j ?canted on his death-bed, and had indicated ^ is hope in heaven by pointing upward, a nd saying: "Higher, higher." Hut the a ttendant, who was beside Dr. Heard, said J. ic words, "Higher' higher," had no refernee to a future state of existence, but were s imply an indication that the doctor wished s i be raised on liis pillow."?X. V. Sun. ' t THE HROTHER'S PART. \ Brothers should be theirsisters'guardians. \ I very young man knows what true gal- t mtry is, and what it requires of him. Me 1 i to honor every lady, whether she is rich r poor, unci show her every respect, lie is ?ady to be to every woman a true knight, 1 sady to defend her from every insult, to i isk "his own life in her behalf. f Now, to whom ought every young man c t show the highest, truest gallantry? To 4 ;hom, if not to his own sisters? Have t iiey not the first claim on his affection? $ f he is not a true gentleman to his own d isters, can he be at heart a true gentleman .] "> any other woman? Can a young man s e manly and treat his wn sisters with \ >ss respect and honor than he shows to ;i ther young Indies? He must consider him- 1 ilf their true knight, whose office it is to i lirow about them every needed shelter, t > serve them, and to promote their highest i ood in every way. t of course, there is no young man with a no spark of the honor of true manliness in v is breast, who will not instinctively defend n is sister if she is insulted in the street. lie a .'ill instantly put himself between her and j 1 lie danger. Neither is there any brother 11 ;orthyof the name who will not defend the t onor of his sister if vile tongues asperse it. ! a >ut more than this is required <>!' a loyal < rother. lie siiould make himself a wall t bout his sister to shield her from every n vil and unholy intluenee. 1 Every young man knows other young s len ; he knows their charaeter, their habits, \ heir good and evil qualities, lie knows n hose who indulge in strong drink, those r /ho are godless and profane, those whose f ivesare stained with the litth of debauch- t ry. Can he be a true brother and permit i ueh a young man to he the companion of I \ lispuroandgentlosister? Can he allow her, j 1 11 the innocence of her heart, to accept the I d ttentionsofsuch a young man, to lean upon i t is arm, to look up into his face with trust? I 'an he see a friendship forming, strength-! ning between his sister and such a young c ian, and remain silent, uttering in her t ars no voice of warning or protest, and yet j e a loyal, faithful brother to her? This'isa place for plain, strong, and earnest t /ords. Surely, young men do not think of 1 his matter seriously, or they would require i o argument to convince them of their a uty. "Put the case in the strongest possi- e le form, gnd bring it close to home. You u ave a sister as pure as a lily. She has <; rown up beside you in the shelter of the o ome. Iter eyes never looked upon any- r liing vile. Her ears have never heard an t inpure word. You love her as you love y our own life. A young man seeks to win s er regard and confidence. He stands well 1 11 society, has good manners, is attractive, t utelligent. But you know that his secret d lie is unchaste, that he is the victim of \ abits which will in the end bring ruin and r ishonor. Your sister knows nothing of his \ rue character. Can you permit him to be- t nine her companion ? Are you not bound f] > tell her that he is not worthy of her? c ?an you do otherwise and be a faithful irother? Besides this standing between his sister md danger, every brother should also show , ler in his own life the ideal of the truest, wrest, most honorable manhood. If it he rue that the best shield a sister can mi ke or her brother is to show him in herself the , oftiest example of womanhood, it is true dso that the truest defence a brother can nuke for his sister is a noble manhood in lis own person. I f he is going to shield his , ister from the impure, he must not himself >e impure. He must show her in himself a ligh ideal of manhood, that her soul shall mconsciously and instinctively shrink from verything that is vulgar, rude, or evil. ( ,et no brother think that he can be a slieler from evil to his sister, if his own life he ' lot unsullied and true. Famoi's Eaiituqu akes.?C'asamiccola is < me of the two great earthquake zones, the , ither district being the western portion of South America. In no century since the urliest recorded history has Southern Italy nd Sicily escaped suffering from frequent j ind severe earthquakes. In Silcily, 1093, 10,000 people perished in one earthquake. )uringthe reign of Tiberius, 10 A. D., 120,KH) people lost their lives in one day in conequence of an earthquake. The earth[uake attended with the most serious result n the destruction of human life was that if 320, when 230,000 human beings perished, iccording to Gibson's figures. Antioch, vhich had previously been destroyed at ( east twice, and several other Syrian cities ( vero completely destroyed, and the shock < xtended into Italy, where great damage < 0 life and property resulted. In 63 Hercuaneum and Pompeii were destroyed by an 1 arthquake, this being 16 years before the mrial of those cities by the eruption of Vesuvius. The city of .Judea was destroy- ; d in 31 B. ('., when 10,000 people lost their 1 ves. ( The most famous earthquake of history vas that at Lisbon, November 1,17").), when 0,000 people were buried alive and 3,000 nore were killed. Calabria,-Messi, and a < lumber of smaller villages were destroyed i ?n Februarv ">. 1783. and some 100,000 lives ! cere lost, "in 1820, Murcia, Spain, was (le-1 < troyed; 8,5(10 liouses being thrown down : .nd 2,000 people being killed. Lima and 1 ts harbor, C'allao, in Peru were destoyed < n 1586, and again in 1740, and thousands ' lerished. Arequipa, Peru, was wiped out i f existence in 1868,80,000 people being left I lomeless, and several thousand losing their i ives. In the same year the cities of Ibarra < nd Ottawalla were destroyed, and not one : f their 10,000 inhabitants escaped, or could < ver be found afterwards. Catocaehy was : lo obliterated from the face of the earth, 1 nd a lake now covers the spot where it 1 tood. In that earthquake the United ] itates war vessel Wateree was carried from { lie harbor of C'allao two miles inland. The unous earthquake which devastated and epopulated C'allao in 1782, continued at i ntervals for four years. It took but three i linutes for an earthquake to make the en- i ire city of Port Royal, Jamaica, a complete . /reck in 1692, and even less time for the 1 estruction of San Salvador, in the West < ndies, March 19, 1878. The city of Men- ( oza, in the Argentinb Republic, was de- i troyed and 12,000 people killed by a shock j f but a moment's duration, in March, 1861. 1 1 Thk Wife's Influence.?Two gentleiien, ut u large reception in New York last rinter, were discussing one of the foremost (oliticians of the country, a man who, whether in office or out, always keeps himelf prominently before the public. "I knew iim at college," said one of the gentlemen. He was a man with a clear head, extraorlinary memory, and much personal magletism. Hut I cannot understand why he hose public life or has pushed himself forward so persistently. He was a lazy, houghtless, visionary fellow, absolutely iestitute of ambition." "I can tell you the ecret," said the other. "You wilffind it n his wife's nose. There she is! did you ver see a more perfect incarnation of energy and love of command ? Napoleon would lave chosen her for one of his Marshals at irst sight." His friend was amused at the j hii? ?nid nresentlv ; "There is nnoth- < r of my old class-mates, P. He was a thin, ' mbitious, scholarly fellow, with refined < astesand high aims. He now is a fat, in- > lolent animal, without a thought apparent- i y, but his cognac and terrapin. Who is to i ilame for that?" "His wife's mouth and i icr money. 1 will show her to you." He I lointed out a gross, voluptuous woman. 1 ichly dressed. "P." he resumed, "has lived s n idleness since his marriage. He was not 1 trong enough to carry the weight of so nuch wealth and so much vulgarity. They lave borne him down. He will never rise." foung men at school and college are very | pt to be enraptured with a sparkling eye, i . rosy cheek, or some charm of manner in 1 ome young woman that they happen to 1 neet. They are hardly masters of them- < elves; and a moonlight night, or a song, 1 uddenly tempts them to ask the echanting < reature who has bewitched them to share i heir future. They do not consider that she ] vill be the most real, active force in their 1 vhole lives, almost irresistible with power i o drag them down or to lift them up in ] >ody, mind and soul.? Youth}n Companion. < A Rich Max Dies of starvation.? ' 'So Jones is dead," said one Somerville nan to another, the other day. "Yes, poor ! ellow," was the reply, "he's gone." "What 1 lid he die of?" inquired the first speaker. 1 'Starvation," was the answer. "Starva- 1 ion ! (food gracious, the man was worth 1 :">0,()ii0." "I know that; nevertheless he j lied of starvation. I'll tell you how it was; ' Tones was always fancying that there was 1 omething the matter with him; so he ! vent to a doctor one day had himself ex- 1 mined, and the doctor informed him that " ic had kidney disease, and besides taking 1 nedieine must diet himself. Said the doc- ' or: "You must avoid all kinds of salt neats, salt fish, potatoes, cabbage and vegeables of every kind.' Jones followed the id vice, but found himself no better. He ' vent to another doctor, and after being ex- 1 imined was informed that lie must avoid J 11 kinds of fresh meats. This did not do 1 lim any good, as he thought, and he went : 0 another doctor, who highly approved of l he advice which had previously been given, i md further warned him against all kinds if pastry, likewise shellfish, including oys- < ers and clams. "The best thing for you is 1 1 milk diet," said this doctor; so Jones 1 ived wholly upon milk. Not feeling him- 1 elf any better, he went to another doctor, 1 vho cautioned him to avoid milk, above ] " --i.?i 4... .?t. ?,ii wk:.-. I. ill tilings, II lit' Willlltill IU ?t'U. xnin < educed Jones to a diet of cold water and reshair, and finding himself no better upon i his regimen, he went to another doctor who j irged him to beware of drinking too much < cater and being too much in the air. This j ast advice cut off the last of Jones' article of ; liet, and he died of starvation, as I have 1 old you." < + 1 Quick as Lkiiitnixc;.?This is a phrase ; hosen to illustrate an inconceivable rapidi- i y, but of those who use the expression i irobably very few appreciate its full mean- < tig, for Sir Charles Wheatstone has shown I hat a Hash of lightning lasts less than a 1 uillionth part of a second. This is vastly nore rapid than our conception of the flash, < nd at least one-tenth of a second must lapse?according to Professor Swan?before >ur sluggish sight can take in the full effect 1 f the light. On account of the slowness of 1 ur perception, we never see the light at its 1 eal intensity. Professor Tait has suggested 1 hat the full brilliancy must be in some de- 1 ;ree comparable with the sun, as Wheat- < tones ana swan s uuui prove una us up-1 * arent brightness of the hmdscape, as lit up s iy a lightning flash, is less than one-hun- 1 I red-thousandth part of what it would be vere the lightning permanent. The appaent brightness, it should be mentioned, < vas shown by Swan to diminish in about \ he ratio borne by the length of time the t lash lasts to the time required for us to per- 1 eive it. 1 THE POSSIBILITIES OF MEXICO. A correspondent of the Anglo-American Tune*, writing from Monterey, Mexico, says: ''They are waking up in Mexico. On the whole, It is a matter of surprise that the railway invasion of Mexico has been so long deferred?so much is there in the land to tempt what is known in the States as "railway enterprise." In raw materials the country is very nearly as rich as the most enthusiastic of its prophets claim that it is; which is sayinga great deal. Mexican hard woods?save those of the coast forests?practically remain untouched. The large possift?Am thn uon UllltlCO U1 nu^ai iiiuuuiattuiv U\/1U vuv wi/ of the maguey?the agua miel, from which pulque is made?are absolutely undeveloped, although there can be no doubt but that this material is destined to play a very important part in the world's sugar supply. Another product of the maguey specie (Agave itmev,burnt) that is but little used, is the beautiful fibre of the leaves, ixtli. "Ixtli, obtained from heneouen, another variety of maguey, is exported in considerable quantities, to London and New York, for use as body material forearpets. Ho profitable has this export been, that solely because of it one railroad has been built between Merida and the port of Progress, and another road is now nearly completed that parallelsthe first. Yet in the pulque regions thousandsof tonsof this fibre is burned every year, simply in order to getthedead plants, from which the iuice has been extracted, out of the way. For many purposes ixtli is equal to the best manilla hemp. It makes an exceedingly light, tough cordage, an excellent bagging, and a quality of paper that is as tougn as linen paper and nearly as fine. The exhibit of maguay paper at the centennial Exhibition of Philadelphia (from mills near the city of Mexico) was especially commended by the judges of awards for its toughness and smoothness of texture. Yet outside of Mexico paper makers know nothing of this material, and the manufacture in Mexico is but trifling." After speaking of other vegetable productions, the writer says that "for the want of pumping machinery valuable properties have been abandoned by their Mexican owners while actually in bonanza. And so imperfect is the working of the orebyna-' tive processes, that the tailings in many cases can be worked over again at a profit. "But," says the writer, "in regard to Mexican mines the world over, the fact must be borne in mine that no property is more creacnerous or morenazaruous 10 ueni wim. Dn the whole, a much safer investment of money in this country, and that will give juite as satisfactory profits as successful mining, is the development of any one of the country's lfltural resources. Simply in the making of maguey sugar and in the preparation for market of the wasted maguey fibre, there are fortunes to be made." How Ants Buby Their Dead.?It is the general habit among many species of ints to bury the dead very carefully. The following interesting account is given by an Australian observer: "I saw a large number of ants surrounding the dead ones, and letermmed to watch their proceedings dosely. Four or five started otf from the :est toward a hillock a short distance away, in which was an ant's nest. This they enured, and in about five minutes they reappeared, followed by the other. All fell into ank, walking regularly and slowly two by :wo, until they arrived at the spot where ay the soldier ants. In a few minutes two if the ants advanced and took up the dead Eiody of one of their comrades then two others, and so 011 until all were ready to march. First walked two ants bearing a body, then two without a burden; then two others with another dead ant, and so on .intil the line was extended to about forty pairs, and the procession now moved slowly inward, followed by an irregular body of ibout200 ants. Occasionally the two laden mts stopped, and, laying down the dead mt, it was taken up by the two walking inburdened behind them, and thus, by occasionally relieving each other, they arrived it a sandy spot near the sea. The body of mts now commenced digging with their aws a number of holes in the ground, into each of which a dead ant was laid, when they were carefully covered over. This lid not quite finish the remarkable circumstances attending the funeral of the ants. Six or seven of the ants had attempted to run off without performing their snare of the task of digging; these were caught and brought back, when they were at once attacked by the body of ants and killed. A jingle grave was quickly dug, and they were all dropped into it. . ' Activity of Senses in Children.? Doctor Genzmer has been experimenting upon the activity of the senses in new-born infants. Much yet remains to be done in this direction, and in that of determining the average age at which mental capacities ofvarious kinds are developed. It is not to the credit of the female sex that systematic observations of this character have not been made and tabulated by some one out of the million mothers and nurses in civilized lands. Doctor Genzmer states that though touch is present from the first, as may be proved by the reflex response to stimulation of the face, hands or soles of the feet, yet the feeling of pain is but slowly developed, ind is only clearly shown after five or six weeks, before which time children do not shed tears. Hearing is perceptible upon the first, or, at latest, upon the second day :if life. Light is perceived by the new-born infants, who will turn the head to follow a mild light, while a strong glare induces squinting, or even convulsive closure of the lids. After a few days the child follows the motion of objects by moving its head, and between the fourth and fifth weeks the pupils converge, and actual sight, the faculty jf correct vision, commences. A distinct idea of color does not exist under four or five months. Smell and taste are not distinguishable in infants. A Sheep in a Shirt.?An incident which was botli rich and racy, and quite laughable, actually did occur near Smyrna, Tenn., i few days since, which was about as follows : One of our neighbors, Mr. T. D., sheared the wool off his favorite pet sheep a few days since. As the shades of the evening began to gather the air grew chilly. Mr. 1). being a man of such sympathy, and in irder to make his pet as pleasant as possible, took a shirt and pulled it over the body of the sheep and buttoned the collar around the sheep's neck and let the sleeves hang loose, like a pair of wings. Mr. D.'s faithful dog espied this wonderful freak of art ind nature at once. The poor sheep jumped the yard fence and ran for its life. It ran into the public road lust as Mrs. It. H. Nicholson and infant ?hild chanced to be riding by. Her horse *rew frightened and ran several hundred cards, As fate would have it, she remained firm in her saddle and neither she nor the jhild was hurt. On the following morning this wonderful, celebrated sheep made its ippearance in Joe Derryberry's field, when its visit caused a general stampede, where the snapping of trace-chains and knocking iown fences, and the word, "Whoa! whoa !" bursting from the mouths of plow-boys, made music in the air. During the day Mr. * a; .u l). was seen nuilllllgu Slieeu UIUI mum uv: easily identified, because it had a shirt on. All our noble studies, all our reputation at the bar, all our professional assiduities are stricken from our hands as soon as the alarm of war is sounded. Wisdom itself, :he mistress of affairs, is driven from the field. Force bears sway. The statesman is lespised. The tirm soldier alone is caressed. Legal proceedings cease. Claims are isserted and prosecuted, not according to law, but by force of arms.?Cicero. S&- A writer says: "For a stimulant to every faculty give me a strong enemy rather :han a weak friend." The trouble is that i good many people in want of a stimulant to every faculty put the strong enemy in their mouths.?Philadelphia Netcs.