Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. J %n Jfnbejpbent Jfanulg Ifcfospajjcr: Jfor f]\i promotion of fjjt political, Social, ^jrimlhiral aiib Commercial Interests of ffre Soutlj. j terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. vol. 30. yoekyillb, s c., thursday, october 23, 1884. ho. 43. ? . - _" i '_* ~ ' .. ? Jtlcftfd ffleitg. SO LONG. "But a week is so long!" he said, With a toss of his curly head. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven !? Seven whole days! Why, in six, you know (You said it yourself?you told me so,) The great God in heaven Made all the earth and the seas and skies, The trees and the bird3 and the butterflies. How can I wait for my seeds to grow ? "But a month is so long!" he said, With a droop of his boyish head. "Hear rue count?one, two, three, four-r Four whole weeks ancLihree days more; Thirty-one days and each will creep As the shadows crawl over yonder steep ; Thirty-one nights and I shall lie Watching the stars climb up the sky. How can I wait till a month is o'er?" "But a vear is so loner!" he said, Uplifting his bright young head. "All tne seasons must come and go Over the hills with footsteps slowAutumn and winter, summer and spring; O, for a bride of gold to fling Over the chasm deep and wide. That I migl#cross to the other side, . Where she is waiting?my love, my bride!" "Ten years may be long!" he said, Slowly raising his stately head, "But there's much to win, there is much to lose A man must labor, a man must choose, And he must be strong to wait! The years may be long, but who would weai The crown of" honor must do and dare. No time has he to toy with fate Whonvould climb to manhood's high estate." "Ah! life is not so long," ho said, Bowing his grand white head. "One, two, three, four, five, six, sevenSeventy years ! As swift their flight As swallows cleaving the morning light, Or golden gleams at even. Life is short as a summer nightHow long, O God, is eternity ?" Ifce Jteg icllct. FOR APPEARANCE SAKE. BY MRS. M. L. RAYNE. "Where's Madge?" asked Mr. Hudson coming in with his lantern and depositing i on the table. "It's dark as Egypt, and mud dier nor a dust road arter a shower. Hallo Madge I" "Hallo, father," answered a musical voice "got a letter for me?" "Come down and see." The letter lay on the table, and was eager ly grasped by the young girl, as' she camt hurriedly in, trilling a song in a sweet so prano voice. "They didn't waste much time writing did they?" she said, as she carefully openet the letter from the end to avoid breakinf the crested seal at the center, -uresis- am seals were not frequent visitors at the Hud son farm. "Read it aloud, Margaret," said her moth er, coming out of the pantry with a whiti ciip-cloth in her hand. She had a New Eng land look, as well as a New England accent and was as thin and angular as the sister hood of t hat excellent com mu ni ty always are "Dear Miss Hudson," began Madge; ther she laughed and blushed just a little. "Why don't he call you Madge ?" askec her father, who was lighting the lantern. "He might hev said Margaret," supple mented her mother. "Why should he call ine either?" askec Madge; "it would not be in the least like him?he is quite too elegant for such famil iarity. But listen: "Dear Miss Hudson?Sister desires me to sa\ that she has found apartments for you in one o the French flats on Seventeenth street, when you can be as secluded and independent as yoi could desire. Of course your mother will *ac company you. Sister asked me to say that i chaperone will be indispensable. Please let us know as soon as you reach the city, as we wil endeavor to return in some measure you r grea kindness. You will find enclosed number of flat terms, etc., and address of agent. With kini regards to you and your family. "Horace Wyoant." "What's that he says about your mothei goin' to the city, Madge ?" asked her father sharply. "She ain't a-goin'to take singin lessons, tew, is she!" "No, father," said Madge, sweetly; "it ii to see that I do not come to any harm." "You! What's the matter with you, I'c like to know ? Ain't you old enough t< take keer of yourself for three months while you go to that city singin' skule, you're at lusa-talkin' about?" "I don't see but what I'll hev tew go, Si las,'' said Mrs. Hudson, taKingon nercnee* apron and unrolling her sleeves. "It ain'i no sort of use. Margaret has been raised ir the fear of the Lord, and knows right froir . wrong as well as t'other one; but I've hearr tell that city folks had tongues a mile long I'd hate to hev her talked about, and thet's a fact," "Talked about! Great Jerushy ! Yoi don't 'spose she'll be talked about ef she doe; rite and minds her own bizness! I'd lik< to hear ennybody try it." "I'll hev to go, s' fur as I kin see now,' said Mrs. Hudson, with an expression thai looked as if she might be going to be burnec at the stake. "And what'll become of me?" asked the farmer, wrinkling hisnoseand looking com ically dejected; "who's a-goin' to stay huir and chap, shap?what's the word??chap around me? It's badenuff hevin' a gal thai wants to go trampin' off to school after she's gradshuated once, but ef the old wornai goes too, then the quicker I'm off to som< schule of my own the better." "Father," said hisdaughter, with a brigh' smile, "I have an idea." "Well, hang on to it; you'll need it aforr ' you git through," said her father, grimly. "And?ha! ha!?I know?he! he!?it's8 good one." "Who's the 'lie, he?' " inquired her fath er, with a preternatural gravity. But Madge only laughed until she became hysterical, and in the midst of her mirth some one rapped. "It's only Hiram,"said Mrs. Hudson. The new-comer heard the words, and hi; heart sank into his boots and did not come up again that evening. He had been "onlj Hiram" in that family too long. "If my head was shaved, and I looker like a monkey, and wore a big seal ring or my little finger, and owed the tailor for mj clothes, I'd be Mr. Armstrong," he thought savagely. There was no one of his acquaint anee who really answered to that false est! mate, but there was a person in his mind's eye to serve for his figures of speech. JThi< hyperbolic of manhood was Horace Wy fant, whose letter lay nestled in Madgr fndson's Docket. As is the custom with bashful young mer who are in love, Htram talked over all his affairs with father and mother Hudson, be fore he ventured to do more than glance a Madge, who, supporting a dimpled chin or a very pretty hand, sat by the table and re garded him with stealthy mirthful glances as if he were some kind of a problem sh( was trying to solve. Mrs. Hudson had been young herself once she knew that young people could not ac themselves with the cold eyes of discreei years watching them, and so after a littk she said obligingly: "Silas, ef you'll light the way deoun cellai I'll skim yesterday mornin's milk, and pui it in the churn." Silas followed obediently and Hiram ant Madge were left alone. "Going to New York?" asked the younj fellow, anxiously, "Yes, going next week," said Madge witl a mirthful smile. "It's an awful wicked place," said tin young man, with a groan. "So I've heard." answered Madge, de murely. "Lots of people disappear there and ar< never heard of again." "I shall not disappear;" replied the girl decidedly. "I am going there to study, ant when I come home I will be organist of oui church with a salary of?well, I won't coun my chickens before they are hatched." k "Then you are coming home again ?" he said, in an incredulous tone. "Oh," said Madge, indifferently, "if I get - an engagement in St. Stephen's choir I may stay there." The honest face of the young man flushed indignantly. ''Very well," he said calmly, and he looked both handsome and manly as he rose to his full six feet of perfect physical proportion, "I'll not play fast ana loose with my life for any girl, not?not"?here his voice trembled perceptibly?"not even for you, Madge. 1 know we are not yet engaged, but we've grown up together, and?and my God?it would be hard to lose you now." Madge Hudson at that moment felt utterly unworthy of herself. She was so much inoiinpfi tn lan^h that she could hardlv re strain her mirth within decent bounds. She did not want to tell this young man, who was not in the least romantically inclined, what she was laughing at, because he would not see the funny side of it at all as she did. So she abandoned her "idea," and told him of the letter. Then they had a serious quarrel over Horace Wygant and parted in a rage. Before she slept that night Madge had unfolded her "idea" to her mother. Mrs. Hudson laughed, but not so heartily as ; Madge. She saw some disadvantages, but after all guessed it would do. "I'll talk it over with your father," she said. "What did Hiram think of it?" "You don't suppose I told him?" pouted Madge. "I shan't worry him with any of my plans." "Another lovers' quarrel," said Mrs. Hudson to her husband, when she had rehearsed the story. "Ain't it curus, Silas, heow the > course of trew love never does run slick? We used to quarrel jess so, didn't we?hey, old man?" "Yaw-aw?I guess so?goo-nite," yawn ed Farmer Hudson. ******** The scene changes, as they say in novels, - to New York, the wonderful city. It is the fall of the year. The trees are gorgeous in their autumn bloom and beauty; the air is full of rich, ripe sunshine; it is good to live? to breathe. The streets are gay with throngs of well-dressed people. The friction of life makes all the atmosphere light. i la this fine, excellent air a young man t walks jauntily; he is thoroughly well dress ed, has the tone of a man who has traveled; , looks as if health, wealth and prosperityhappy trinity?had showered all their bless; ings upon him. He has a card in his hand and is looking for a certain number on Seventeenth street. Having found it, he rings and is admitted 3 by a little maid of all-work. He consults - the card. "Mrs. or Miss Hudson," he asks with a i foreign inflection of voice common to native 1 New Yorkers; "are the ladies in?" f The little maid of all-work points a bat1 tered thumb over her shoulder. "Dey leeves in dose rooms," she said and vanish**!. Mr. Wygant elevated his aristocratic nose. J There was an odor of cooking that offended - that fastidious member; he removed a glove ? and rapped with his white knuckles on a door: "Does Miss " i "No, she doesn't; there don't anybody live here but me, and I've got all the bakl ing-soda, sewing-machines and patent scrubbing brushes I want." Mr. Horace Wygant made a masterly retreat. He was by no means a fool, and he I quite enjoyed the want of perception which ' allotted him to such a useful sphere in life, i - Another rap and the door opened. Ah! there, close to him, was a delicious face, r with mirthful brown eyes, cheeks with f rosy dimples, a saucy, piquant chin, and ] ? the red curves of a mouth that answered the 1 description of Queen Guinevere's. [ "A man bad given all other bliss, s And all his worldly worth for this? To waste his whole heart in one kiss L Upon her perfect lips." , Mr. Horace Wygant may have had siml ilar thoughts to these, if less poetical, but he made no sign of them, but said with as much heartiness as his good breeding would r permit: , "Miss Hudsou, I'm very glad to see you ' and you seem quite at home," he added as he entered the pretty parlor, and, in re3 sponse to her invitation, sat down by the pleasant window. He told her that his sisl ter would come to see her the next day and ) that she must consider their house her home } in spite of her refusal to enter it as a perma nent guest. He lamented the fact that there was no opera, but he had invitations by the - score to select musicales and would be only : too glad of her company and criticism. t Then ne asxea to see nor muuier. i Madge excused herself and went into the i next room. Mr. Wygant had caught a 1 glimpse of Mrs. Hudson seated in a comfort. able Boston rocker, knitting in hand, so he i knew she had come with her daughter as he had prudently advised. He could overhear i them talking now, though he tried not to. > and even drummed on the window to dull i their voices. Madge had asked her mother to come into the parlor and the old lady had ' answered her in her sharp New England t voice that she preferred to stay where she I was. Mr. Wygant hadn't come to see her and she'd like to be excused. So he mere) ly bowed a respectful acquiescence when - Madge returned with her excuse. i The next day Mrs. Victor?the sister of Horace Wygant?a lady of elegant leisure, t called upon Miss Hudson, and was exceed- . s ingly gracious and patronizing. She spent i nearly an hour there while her coachman ex- ; } ercised the blooded horses by walking them around the block. Mrs. Victor had much t to say about the kindness of the Hudson ; family to her brother when he was ill at i their house; it was so good of them to take in a stranger and treat him as a brother. ( i She could never forget it, and much more of , the same nature. Mrs. Hudson was not in, - and she left a card and regrets. When she was gone Madge laid her head ) down on the stuffy little lounge?the rooms j i were rented furnished?and laughed till she ( cried, but at what it was difficult to see, for Mrs. Victor was not by any means a mirth- , 3 inspiring person. J About a month after Madge was establishr ed in the city she received a letter from Hiram Armstrong. She did not laugh when 1 she read it for it was a serious, manly letter, i albeit it was tinged with a lover's jealousy. . t It asked her to choose between nim and : , Horace Wygant, taking it for granted that - Horace had asked her to marrv him. She - answered him at once and told nim that she 3 had chosen, but requiring him as a special 3 favor to refrain from asking her what the - decision was until the three months of her i stay had ended. Then she added that her mother sent her love?a postscript that mysi tified Hiram more than her postponed de3 cision. Madge took her music lessons, and at- i t tended a private class in dramatic elocution, , l and dined often with the Victors when they i -1 had comDanv. and so little was known of 1 , her, antf her appearance was such, that it } was whispered in vocal circles that she was the daughter of a wealthy family, living in ; | retirement, and would be a debutartte of the t next social season. The sweet simplicity t J of her toilets, her exquisite voice in song, i i her cultivated musical taste, were praised j as something phenomenal, while in fact i r they were merely accessories as a backt ground to her rustic beauty. But very stormy scenes always followed her coming, 1 for Horace Wygant had told his love to his sister, although it was as yet unexpressed to j the object of it, and recriminations that were by no means high-bred had ensued. 1 "That girl!" Mrs. Victor would retort in hot anger, ."with a mother she's ashami ed of. A nice alliance for you, I must say." "Don't worry yourself, Clara Vere de - Vere," her brother would reply sneeringly, "you will not be called upon to live with j her mother. She is at least a good-hearted woman, whose heart is not eaten up with , pride." 1 "If she isn't ashamed of her," Mrs. Vier tor would continue, "why doesn't she take t her out. She won't even let her come into the room to see you." "I have seen her several times," said ! Horace. "She knows I go there to see her 5 daughter; she is always within sight and I _ round. I wish sometimes she was not quite ! so omnipresent." Yes, he had determined to marry the innocent, unsophisticated and lovely coun- 1 A try girl. He liked to think of her in the j delightful dress which his money would i buy?the pearls and rubies that would receive an added splendor from her iresh young beauty. He had thought her face \ in the village choir the finest thing he had 8 ~ n - -< ?iai? nir.j a ever seen?iairer man me iaumess iiiauou- , nas of the old masters that lie had wor- c| shipped abroad. It never occurred to him v that she might not love him. What, he! ? the darling of prosperity, refused by a little ? country girl! Besides, he really loved her. v Upon several occasions when he had in- 11 vited her to ride out he had also desired her s to have her mother accompany them, but ? after a spirited discussion, in which Mrs. Hudson's sharp voice was quite too discern- 1! ible, she had refused, preferring her rocker n and knitting to "breaking her neck," as she f energetically expressed it. So they went P without her. But Madge disliked leaving 1! her mother alone, and was always back [ home in good time. Evening company she | did not have at all, as Mrs. Hudson objected ^ to late hours. Horace Wygant did not J1 think any less of the girl because she respect- ^ ed her mother's principles, and never in the 1 least disobeyed ner instructions. ^ On one afternoon he determined to bring kthe matter to a crisis and make Madge a v formal offer of his heart and hand, after which he hoped to be permitted to see Mrs. Hudson soften her scruples, and to be able to do a little love-making on his own mer- J' its. With this idea uppermost in his mind P he walked to Seventeenth street, and found 11 a.crowd surging in front of the block in ^ which his friends lived?indeed, at their c, very door. There was a scene of smoke 9 and turmoil, and the fire engines were dash- j' inor nn at the mnmftnt he reached the snot. : The people who occupied the flats were pour- ji: ing out, and handsome furniture was reck- ! v lessly smashed on the pavement. \ "Oh! Mr. Wygant," cried a terrified 0 voice, "I am so glad to see you here," and " Madge shivering and afraid, but clinging 11 heroically to her trunk and satchels, appear- ? ing in breathless excitement before him. 11 "Thank God, you are safe," he murmur- a ed in her ear, "but where?where is your a mother?" {> "Mother! Oh, I forgot her," cried the i i? girl, hysterically adding these remarka- j , ble words, 11 Never mind her, let her burn up. i( It won't be any great loss." ' ? Horace Wygant thought she had lost her j]< reason. With one heroic leap into the burn-1 f ing, smoking stairway, he disappeared, ;11 while a shout rang through the crowd. In j P a moment he returned, carrying the limp | 0 and senseless figure of Mrs. Hudson in his I a arms. Tenderly placing the unconscious i f woman in a rocking chair, that had been . saved and stood on the pavement, he brush-j a ed the dust and soot from his eyes and P hair, and turned to Madge, who was laugh- jtJ ing wildly and hysterically. ! v "Remain here a moment until I get a car- i " riage," he said, and was gone. When he returned Madge was calm and u herself again. J1 "Please drive at once to the depot," she 14 said. "I will return home." v "And your mother?" For an answer Madge gave a wild laugh, 11 and pointed to the chair where Mrs. Hudson a sat. That good woman still had her knit- 5 ting in her hand. Her head, however, was J! completely turned, and revealed a frightful ? vacuity. ? "It's?it's a dummyshrieked Madge. ' "Mother in effigy. Please?please Mr. Wy- P gant, get me the sha wl and spectacles?they ^ are mother's best." f Mr. Wygant sullenly obeyed her; he *? drove her quietly to the depot and when ~ the train came, handed her on with due ? care and politeness, but without gallantry. s< When the train was gone he returned home, v and his sister did not know that aught was j? amiss. But his idol was as ruthlessly shat- j( tered as the straw make-believe of Madge's 11 mother. He too, however, could dissemble ^ for appearance sake. Ventilation.?If two persons are to oc- p cupy a sleeping room together for a night, v let them be weighed upon retiring, and Ji then again in the morning, ana they will ~ find that the actual weight is at least one > pound less in the morning. Frequently j, there will be a loss of two or more pounds, v and the average loss throughout the year ri will be more than a pound. That is, during d the night there is a loss of a pound of matter f which has gone off from the body, partly through the lungs and partly through the & pores in the skin. The escaped material is & carbonic acid gas and decayed animal mat- ri ter, or poisonous exhalations. This is diffused through the air in part, and in part absorbed by tne bed-clothes. If a single ounce of wood or cotton be burned in a room, it c< will so completely saturate the air with tl smoke that one can hardly breathe, though d there can be but an ounce of foreign matter I in the air. If an ounce of cotton be burned n every half hour during the night, the air tl will be continuously saturated with smoke J ? unless there is an outlet for it. Now the r; sixteen ounces of smoke thus formed are e far less dangerous or poisonous than the six- tl teen ounces of exhalations from the lungs ci and bodies of two persons who have lost a pound in weight during the eight hours of a sleeping, for while the dry smoke is mainly fl taken into the lungs, the damp odors from tl the body are absorbed both into the lungs t< and into the pores of the entire body. ii Nothing stronger can be said to prove the n necessity for ventilation in bed-rooms, and 11 of thoroughly airing the sheets, coverlets i si and mattresses in the morning before put- j q ting them iqto the form of a neatly made d bed. Children more than any others suffer ,$ from bad air. The restless tossing and mut- j c< tering, the disturbed sleep, all give strongest evidences of the effect of ban air. This j ti is further confirmed by the dull eye, stupid 1 u expression, languid movements, and unre- j d freshed feeling which are visible in the a morning. Every house should be well veil- rr tilated, the body sufficiently covered with | tl warm, loose, suitable clothing, and be sure 1 ii the sleep will be sound and refreshing s< and will be manifested in the bright eye 0 and vigorous growth and action. 11 _ 1 Birds'Nests.?There are few things as ri wonderful as birds'nests. These little creat- g ures, which one would suppose good for noth- it ing but to pour forth their sweet songs, are ti really capable of building "houses without! n hands." These are built for the purpose of! ai rearing and protecting their young. The j n materials used for the nest are different! d with different birds, but they are generally | h straw, twigs, wool, thread or moss. I once i e: saw a nest made of some very line lace, tak- ei en from the clothes line of our neighbors. ()( The styles of building their nests are near- 0] ly, if not quite as numerous as those em- t-1 ployed by man in building houses. Some n English 'author has classified them into d twelve distinct groups: Miners, ground t> builders, masons,carpenters, platform-build-! si ers, basket makers, weavers, tailors, felt ci makers, cementers, dome builders and para- i sites. These names indicate the methods ! tl] used in building. j e: Under the head of miners come the com- u mon bank-swallows. The hawk is both i tr a ground and platform builder. The robin ! 0] is a mason, and the woodpecker a carpen-J Ct ter. The martial eagle of South Africa, tc builds a platform said to be strong enough to hold the largest man. The magpie and crow are basket makers and hang their nest sc from some twig or branch where the leaves I ei entirely conceal them. Of the weavers, the j pi Baltimore oriole is perhaps the most famil-1 p: iar example. There are many other exam- j ir pies of the wonderful ways in which birds j tl construct their nests. Who teaches them I g( how to do all these things is a question rs which we cannot answer. We know, how- al ever, that they must have a natural impulse al which leads them to do, without reasoning, ei what is best for their own safety. ti IgisfeUancfltts DEATH VALLEY. TERRIBLE PLACE WHERE EVERYLIVING THING THAT VENTURES INTO IT IS ALMOST SURE TO DIE. The great Sierra Nevada range that diides California from the State of Nevada is hatterecUoward thd South, in Morro, Inyo nd San .Bernardino counties, into snort ana ivergent ranges between which are curious alleys and levels of desert unlike any other onformation on the Continent. Southern Nevada is of much the same general characer, a waste and worthless land, except for minerals and occasional oases, unless arteian wells sometime reclaim the soil that nly requires water to make it very producive, in most places at least. A vast area it 3, marked on maps as a silver, borax and itrate belt, and much of its surface is unfit ven for pasturage. It contains many minng camps, however, and is gradually comng into notice and being pierced by railoads. It contains within its limits one of he least exploded1 districts of the United itates?the lamous' Death Valley, which, rith its rocky and barren environments exends over a portion of San Bernardino and nyo counties, chiefly the latter, and lies /holly within the limits of California, lince 1850, a great deal has been said and written about this modern Inferno Valley, nd its marvels, but the peculiar horrors of he place are not easily described. According to Furnace Creek observations he winter climate of Death Valley is not so ad, but the summer climate is so exceedingly dry and hot "that men have died fhen water was in abundance, but they ould not drink it fast enough to supply the rain caused by the desiccative power of the urnace-likeair." A short walk causes great hirst. Something in the atmosphere, even ti winter, makes the eyes very painful and reak. Numbers of persons state that birds /hich attempt to fly over the valley drop :ead with the heat and exertion. There is o vegetation except sage-brush, and but ittle of that. Near the few creeks and prings in the adjacent hills are stunted wildws and mesquit bushes. Every afternoon burning wind, fierce as a simoon, blows cross the valley and whirls the coarse hot rains of sand, and even large pebbles with inoi-uUncr frkrr>o ctcrn inst. thn^P who Venture to ice it. At Furnace Creek the heat was 120 egrees in the shade in July, and workmen ften slept in wetted blankets in their hope2ss endeavors to keep cool. No one has ver been able to report upon the heat in the eart of the valley, at the focus of its lowest oint. It is only a few years since the bodies f two men, who had had water and food in bundance, were found in the valley, the wful heat being the cause. Mr. Dannet illed one of his horses and drank its blood s a substitute for water, when on a prosecting tour in this region last year. The hree terrors of Death "V alley are scarcity of /ater, extreme heat, owing to the absence f rainfall and the enormous amount of reecting surface of sand and stone, and hence nparalleled dryness of atmosphere. It ^ould easily serve as a not unfit companion a that fearful circle of Dante's Inferno, therein he placed his old teacher, Ser Bruetto Latini, Secretary of Florence, describtig him as walking "with searched countennce," under a continual rain of "dilated ?kes of fire" and over a soil of acid and hick sand, "set on fire like tinder beneath lie steel." Thehardiestof prospectors ever esitated to pierce to the center of Death ralley, for the blinding heat swerves the oise of his mind, unseats his reason, bids im wander withoutaim, although within ight of the snow-peaks of the Sierra, until e falls in the flames of the desert to die in espalr, forever unburied and unknown? ead men lying in the heart of dead eas, or on the slopes of dead volcanoes, withered into mummies, whitened in the itiless sun. Not long ago such a body was jund preserved by the boraeic acids of a ollow in the sands. Another was discovred in the C'oso range, where, from letters >und with it, the poor prospector's remains ad lain for ten years. The experiences of some of the exploring arties, none of which have thoroughly traersed the valley, add to the previous outnes. The French party from Buttecounty, 'alifornia, visited the region in May, 18G0, "* 4- U /. nu mr\ J r* ftiA I1U UISUUVClt'U lilU ill uiv Jorthern part of Death Valley, near where, i 1850, they abandoned their wagons, 'hich, in 1861, stood there still, the iron unlisted, the wood undeeayed, untouched by a rop of rain or dew. During October, 1860, be George expedition followed the French rail, and found water near where the emirants of 1850 had perished. Curious hierolyphic inscriptions were observed on the Dcksin the hills west of the valley. STARBOARD ANTI LARBOARD. For some time back Gibraltar has been ansiderably puzzled for an explanation of be discovery made there of over two hunred cannon lying at the bottom of the sea. livers who had been engaged on government submarine investigation related how bey had found the cannon lying as though irefully arranged in parallel lines. Histoy explains the matter. We refer to an ngagement and to a disaster unequaled in me annals of maritime history, which ocarred on the 12th of July, 1801. The combined French and Spanish lleets pproached Gibraltar to attack the English eet concentrated there. During the battle, me Superb, an English frigate, was ordered jpass between two three-decked Spaniards i the rear guard. At eleven o'clock at ight the Superb executed this daring maceuver, raking the two ships with her larboard and larboard broadsides, then, uickly setting her sails, vanished into the arkness with all lights out, making for the aint Antoine, which was engaged in close mnflict with the Cccsar. At this juncture it.was thatthe most disas ous catastrophe in the annals of marine rarlare transpired. The two Spanish threeeckers, not observing the Englishman disppear, owing to the smoke and darkness, mistook each other for the enemy and lereupon commenced a terrific cannonadig, together with furious fighting. They jught by every means to grapple and board ne another, while a tempestuous gale failed a fire which had broken out in the leal-Carlos, till at last, stern to stern, their gging became entangled and the two reat ships remained locked together and nmovabie. The conflagration swept the vo ships. Friends ana iocs ainte wuessed the disaster, to whom they could not scount, not even knowing who the victims light be, but flying from the danger in all irections. Twenty minutes later the two uge ships blew up simultaneously. The xplosion was such that Cadiz believed an irthquake had come upon them. Over 2,)0 men manned these two grand ships, 300 nly of whom escaped death by taking to le boats. Unfortunately for these, tliey lade for the Saint Antoine, which, entirely ismasted, was fighting hopelessly against vo of the enemy's ships, and, ready to nk, had just lowered her colors. The ocjpants of the boats were made prisoners. It is the heavy armament of Real-Carlos iid the >Sa>i Hermeneglide, sunk after the ^plosion, which have now been discovered nder water, in parallel order, near Gibralir. The very nature of the other portions f the blown-up ships, they being nearly all imposed of wood, easily accounts for their >tal disappearance in the lapse of time. IIow Success is Won?George Stephen>n, unable to read the alphabet till he was ghteen, working in the coal-pits for sixence a day, and mending the boots and [itching the clothes of his fellow-workmen 1 the evenings to earn a few extra pennies lat he might attend a night school, is a aod illustration of what a poor and ignoint boy may become. Never idle, never bove doing the commonest work, never an le-drinker, as was the custom among mill's, he showed the fine qualities of his naire by giving the first money which he ev er earned, one hundred and fifty dollars to his blind father that he might pay his debts. When he became an engineer and project- , ed a railroad from Manchester to Liverpool, | the people said "lie is a madman," His j 'roaring steam engine' will set the houses on ? fire with its sparks, the smoke will pollute ^ the air, and the carriage makers and coach- \ men will starve for want of work." The t excitement following his public proposals t was intense. For three days he was ques- \ tioned by a large committee of the House s of Commons. This was one of the ques- r tions; "If a cow gets on the track of an en- a fine traveling ten miles an hour, will it not v e in an awkward situation?" Very soberly , answered George Stephenson, but with a f twinkle in his eye: "Yes, very awkward c indeed for the cow!" " c Tho crovprninpnt insneptor said that if ev- . er a locomotive went ten miles an hour he | would "undertake to eat a stewed enginewheel for breakfast." Stephenson's"Rocket,"a clumsy engine, but a wonder at the time, and now to be seen at Kensington Museum, made the trial trip at an average speed of fourteen miles an hour, and so the inspector had the opportunity of keeping his promise. . During the next ten years, being employed to open up railroads in every direction, Stephenson became renowned and wealthy, the friend of Sir Robert Peel, owner of a large country-seat, and the pride of England. He declined the honor of Knighthood. His famous son, Robert, said of him, '!His example and his character made me the man I am."? Wide Awake. How They Did It In '44.?Governor Fairfield, of Maine, on his return from Philadelphia, on the first of June, 1844, as the chairman of acommittee of the National Democratic Convention to inform Mr. Dallas of his nomination as Vice-President, gave an amusing account of the scene. The committee reached Philadelphia about three o'clock in the morning, and were piloted to Mr. Dallas' house by his friend, Senator Robert J. Walker, who was one of the number. Loud knocks at the door brought Mr. Dallas to his chamber window, and recognizing Mr. Walker, he feared that his daughter, who was in Washington, was ill, and he hastened down stairs, half dressed and barefooted, to hear from her, when to his utter amazement, in walked sixty or more gentleman, two by two, with the tread of soldiers passing him by, and entering his front Sarlor as though to make him captive. Ir. Dallas had not the slightest conception /if + lmi f /iKio/it on/1 cl-jizirl thmiflprmf'riir'lv sit. .. the scene, Mr. Walker led him into the j[ back parlor. "My dear Walker," said he ^ in amazement, "what is the matter?" j "Wait one moment, if you please, Dallas, j wait one moment, if you please." The t 'folding doors were then thrown open, and s the whole delegation stepped forward and I gave three deafening cheers for "Polk and c Dallas!" Mr. Dallas stood paralyzed. Mr. ^ Walker enjoyed his discomfiture. Gov. ] Fairchild, of Maine, then stepped forward s and announced his nomination.?Ben. Peer- \ ley Poore. 8 # * * g The Left Side the Better.?The left ^ side of the face is the right; statistics prove i the paradox. Artists always put the best j touches, finest shading and most delicate [ tints on the left side of the profile. Actors, 5 actresses, and public singers always make a , half turn to the right when they wish to im- , preas their audiences. Young ladies de- j sirous of bewitching their gentlemen friends always walk on the right hand side. Why ?. Because science has shown that the left side of the face is the more beautiful, or leas . ugly. The left hand is more magnetic than 1 the right?the left breast has a more grace- 1 ful contour than the opposite, and the glance 1 of the left eye has a bewitching power of c which the right is hopelcasly innocent. The theme will bear infinite expansion, but we e forbear to pursue it. The remarkable part ? of the now well known fact is that the dis- 1 covery was made by the Chinese. In the s year 9:181 Ah Hing Fy Foy had a family of r 17 daughters. They were all left-handed, S and were greatly sought in marriage by members of the royal household. So irre- c sistible were the charms of these moon-eyed ? maidens that every man who looked upon J them became enslaved. To save the Em- J pi re from internecine war for their posses- J sion, the Emperor made an edict that the t daughters of Ah liing Fy Foy should be J allowed to have 18 husbands each, but that 1 in the future all left handed girls should be N strangled at their birth.?Francisco ,N News-Letter. * Is It the Original Horse??New facts bearing upon the origin of the domes- . tic horse are eagerly received, and much interest was aroused three years ago by the ? announcement by Pizevalski, the great-Bus- r sian explorer, that he had discovered in J Central Asia, a wild horse more closely allied ^ to the domestic species than any other pre- , viously known. A full description of the * new horse?known as Equus Prezevalskii? ' has only very recently been translated from j the Russian. It appears that the animal is , intermediate in many respects between the j true horse and the asses. It has a short, , erect mane, no forelock, and the hairs of the x tail do not extend the whole length of the tail, but only from about the middle down- j; ward, while on the other hand, it has broad t hoofs and small ears. The color is whitish gray, with red or blackish legs. In herds " of from live to fifteen each, the animals inhabit the driest and wildest parts of the t Dsungarian desert, and are very shy. It is f, pointed out by Mr. W. W. Watts that [, drawings made by ancient French dwellers ' very accurately represent this horse. Life's Burdens.?A large part of life's " burdens are self-imposed and wholly need- |( less. Fears of calamities which never t( happen, a doleful habit of looking at s the worst, a suspicious disposition, a jealous turn of mind?these are the tyrants that 0 load us with burdens heavy to bear and J) needless to carry. If we should honestly t examine the various burdens of our lives, a we would be surprised to find how many of a them are of this character. Not only may Jj we drop them if we will, but justice to oth- tl ers demands that we should. A man or P woman habitually unhappy is essentially J selfish, and is always a thorn in the com- J munity. There are enough crosses and trials in life which must be borne, without manufacturing artificial and needless ones; _ and the more thoroughly we rid ourselves a of the latter, the more energy and spirit we j* can bring to bear upon the former. a Vicious Character of Candles.?The air of a room lighted by gas is heated twenty times as much as if it were lighted, to e an equal extent by incandescent electric- e lamps. When arc-lamps are used, the com- o parison is still more in favor of electricity, h You will be surprised to know that our old b friend the tallow candle, and even the wax I candle, is far worse than gas in the propor- g | tion of air vitiated and the heat produced ; k and you will bo disposed to disbelieve it. tf But the fact is, that so long as candles were u used, light was so expensive that we were p obliged to be content with little of it; in tl fact, we lived in a state of semi-darkness, ei and in this way we evaded the trouble. It w is only since the general introduction of gas ti and petroleum that we have found what an g evil it is.?Sanitary Engineer. e' tl Haven't Heard of Any.?The Hon. s< C'rookshank Maxwell presented a resolution ir to the Lime-Kiln Club, to the effect that b< the President be requested to inform the is club in an off-hand manner whether anyivif Presidential ticket bearing the names of}' b colored people had been placed in the! J: field this campaign. The resolution be- n ing seconded by half a dozen members, the ol President arose and replied : hi 1 "So fur as I hev bin able to l'arn, no tick- lj et of de sort has bin planted. Sofuraslkin p l'arn, also, dar am no intenshun of bringin' st out any sich ticket. Ize in no wise disappint- ai ed, however. It will beseb'ral y'arsyitbefo' 01 wo slmll be called uuon to ?ruv'rn dis kentrv. tl and doorin' de interval it*\vill be good pofi- di cy to lay low an' take advantage of any tc sarcunistances dat may arise." le CHOOSING A HUSBAND. It is not, of course, every girl who has the >ower of choosing a husband in the sense of electing and appropriating the one among ler male acquaintances who pleases her >est. It is not natural that she should do his, and when nature is not followed there s generally a disastrous ending. It is true hat love sometimes begets love; but, on the ither hand, nothing is more likely to check t than a too ready response in its early tages. If a man's love is genuine, if he is lot deceiving himself in fancying he has an iftection which he does not really feel, he vants no encouragement beyond the ordilery conduct which politeness and good eeling dictate. If, without any further enouragement, love dies away it is pretty ertain that it had very weak roots, if a jroposal comes before a girl has allowed lerself to believe that little attentions ofered to her had any special meaning?bebre she has permitted her feelings to shape hemselves as they might have done?no larm will follow. It is unfair to expect hat a girl should be ready to yield the noment the word is spoken, and yet be eady to go her own way, without any cause >f com plant if the word is not spoken. No ensible man, no man whose affection is vorth retaining, is driven away by being old by the lady of his choice that she likes iim, that she feels that in time she may :ome to love him, but that her heart is not ^et his. If he really loves her he will come jack again, and it is pretty certain that he vill learn before a second asking whether lis affection is returned or not. But a girl, f she cannot always choose, can always reuse, and generally her difficulty is this?it s evident that this man is making love to ne, I do not love him, but I think I might lo so if I choose, shall I choose or shUll I orbear ? It is here that the power of choice :omes in; it is here that the voice of prulence must be heard, if it is to be heard at ill. In such circumstances a girl will act visely if she gives considerable weight to he general opinion that is held of the genleman in question by his professional breth en or his business acquaintances. It is not ;he man who is agreeable among \yomen, jut he who is well liked by his own sex, vho is the man to choose for a husband, rhere are certain persons, however, of the jpposite sex who are almost as good judges jfa man's disposition as those of his own, md they are his sisters. A girl can always ell how a man stands with his sisters; it hey are really fond of him, she may be ilmost sure that he will make a good husjand. A mother, of course, always speaks veil of her son; it is not what she says of lim, but his behavior to her, that is to be ooked to. And a lady may feel certain on his point, that as a man now treats mother md sister, so he will treat her six months ifter marriage. All this may seem very lold-blooded, very far removed from the ender feeling which courtship induces. 3ut, after all, a girl has a choice to make? l choice upon wnich the happiness of her vhole life will depend, and there is always i time, whether she notices it or not, be'fore he parts with the control of her heart, at vhich she ought to listen to her judgment. Without better evidence than her own feelngs she is very likely to make a mistake, )ut if she can assure herself that her lover s a man who is respected and liked by his nale friends, and is a favorite at home, she nay be pretty sure that in listening to his ove she is choosing wisely. THE GKEELY INVESTIGATION. It is understood at the War Department n Washington that Secretary Lincoln pro>oses to anticipate what will certainly be he action of Congress by making a thor>ugh investigation of the horrors of the Jreely Expedition. He has not yet decid:d upon what course to pursue, nor has he iven announced that such is his intention, >ut those who know him best and undertand his methods say that the Greely busiiess will be a squeezed lemon before Confess meets, ancl that the facts will all be >efore the public in a form that cannot be mestioned. It is now understood that the letails of the expedition are more frightful han was at first imagined. It is believed hat others besides Henry were shot. Lieuenant Greely was advised at Portsmouth to ell the whole story at once, and the friends vho gave him this advice were earnest in he matter. It was claimed that if the vorst were known now, the excitement vould die out and when the report went lefore Congress, the whole truth having >een known, the excitement would be light; but if a more horrible story went beore Congress, than the public had been ed to imagine, the whole disgusting details if the terribly sad affair would have to >e gone over again. Lieutenant Greely bought and still thinks, differently. He laims that the public has 110 interest in the natter and nothing to do with it. What it earns will be simply that which it is imtossible to keep back. Secretary Lincoln feels as the friends of jieutenant Greely did, that it is best to lave the whole matter over with now, that t may be forgotten as soon as possible, trmy officers generally agree with him. , It has been rumored that some of the rec-1! >rds of the party experience at Cape Saline have been destroyed or lost since he rescue, and it is admitted that the diary f one of the men in which the story of can- , lablism was detailed with distressing mi- . mteness has been lost. One explanation is hat it was thrown overboard by accident rom one of the relief vessels, and another s that it was burned accidentally, but it is I uspected that its contents were such as to . ause no sorrow at its loss among those conected with the expedition. Enough is 3ft, in the way of papers, notes and diaries o make a most saddening and sickening ! tory. 1 Secretary Lincoln said that the reason he i rdered Sergeants Brainard, Long and Con- 1 ell of the Greely party to Portsmouth was j hat he did not consider it becoming to J n officer of the army to exhibit himself in 1 museum with the living skeleton and the ! it woman at 10 cents a peep. It is said J hat all the enlisted men engaged in the ex- 1 edition will be discharged and placed on J he pension roll as soon as the proper au- J hority for this can be found. It is claimed ! hat while the men may not be blamed for j ustaining life under any circumstances, ' lie fact of their cannabalism will militate 1 gainst them and subject them to annoy- ' nces if they remain in the army, and it as been decided that this is the best way ut of the difficulty. 1 Los Angeles Orange Grove.?Not verybody has seen an orange grove. But ! very body has an idea, from description r otherwise, if he has not seen for himself, ow an orange grove looks. I had an idea, 1 ut it was not the correct one. For instance, ' never saw or heard it stated that orange ! roves are plowed, harrowed and hoed, and ! ept as free from grass and weeds as a vege- j ible garden. But such is the fact; and ! 'hen I saw my first "grove" standing on j lowed ground instead of pasture land like ! le apple orchards in New England,! record- 1 :1 the event assurprise number one. Again, 'hile standing amid a cluster of orange ees and observing the profusion of great t olden globes pendant upon the branches in t very direction, I ventured a remark to t ie gardener: "We are just at the propersea-j i in for seeing the fruit at its best?" "You s iay come again at Christmas, and it will e as you see it now," he replied. Which i true, for the orange tree of Southern Calornia is ever green and ever bearing. It ds and flowers and fruits continually from anuary to December. This was surprise umbar two. And while I am in the line F confession it may as well be recorded ere tliat my idea of a "grove" had by ear- s r education become so contracted that sur- r rise number three awaited mo when I rode s raight through six miles of orange trees t id learned that the plant extended miles c a either hand. No name less dignified 1 rnn "orange forests" will appropriately i esignate these great tracts of land devoted f i orange culture in the Lost Angeles Val- r y. The locality known as the Pasedema s is simply a great collection ci private residences whose owners are orange growers. Their houses are palaces, and their grounds are flower gardens, each in the midst of an orange grove. There may he, but there need not be, a more beautiful spot upon earth. Western Cyclones.?Up the Platte River, in Nebraska, as you may have heard, it blows. And a "blow" in Nebraska is different from what it Is in Illinois. The ordinary summer breeze of Nebraska would make an Illinoisan hunt his cyclone cellar, and what a Nebraska man calls a blow is a widely different sort of arrangement Cyclones are not common in the great treeless State this year. We were out there a few days since, and learned that they did not average more than three a week. Occasionally they have two in one day, but not very often. The Platte Riyer has two channels. When the wind is in the south it fills one; when in the north the other. We are credibly informed by an old native?one who came through with the forty-niners?that the Platte sometimes overflows its banks, and green people think it has been raining above, when it is simply the wind blowing upstream ; and again, it goes almost entirely dry when the wind is down stream. All the stories of fish showers are true, and they are blown out of the Platte. People go round in the evening regularly, looking to see whether the eaoles that hold the houses to the ground are all secure, and it is nothing for them to sleep for hours with the house two or three feet above the ground. They have a perfect contempt in that country for cyclone caves or cellars, and people wno have become accustomed to the wind say they wouldn't give a snap for a breeze that couldn't blow away a hole in the ground. Ix Oldex Times.?In the year 800 what was the state of Europe ? The Goths, the Vandals, the Franks, the Huns, the Normans, the Turks, and other barbarian hordes, had invaded and overthrown the Roman Empire, and had established various kingdoms upon its ruins. Reading* writing and cyphering were separate and distinct trades. The masses, the nobility, the poor and rich, were wholly unacquainted with the mysteries of the alDhabet and the pen. A few men known as clerks, who generally belonged to the priesthood, monopolized them as a special class of artists. They taught their business only to the seminarist's apprentices and beyond themselves and their few pupils, no one knew how to read or write, nor was it expected of the generalty any more than it would be nowadays, that everybody should be a shoemaker or a lawyer. Kings did not even know how to sign their names, so that when they wanted to subscribe to a written contract, law or treaty, which some clerk had drawn up for them, they would smear the right hand with ink, and slan it udoii the oarchment, saying "Witness my hand." At a later day some genius devised the substitute of the seal, which was impressed instead of the hand. Every gentleman had a seal with a peculiar device thereon. Hence the sacramental words now in use, "Witness my hand and seal," affixed to modern deeds, serve at least the purpose of reminding us of the ignorance of the middle ages. The Lead Pencil.?There is no lead pencil, and there has been none for fifty years. There was a time when a spiracle of lead, cut from the bar or sheet, sufficed to make marks on white paper or some rougher abrading material. The name of lead pencil came from the old notion that the products of the Cumberland mines, England, were lead, instead of being plumbago, or graphite, a carbonate of iron, capable of leaving a lead-colored mark. With the original lead pencil or slip, and with the earlier styles of the "lead" pencil made direct from the Cumberland mine, the wetting of the pencil was a preliminary of writing. But since it has become a manufacture the lead pencil is adapted, by numbers or letters to each particular design. There are grades of hardness from the pencil that may be sharpened to a needle point, to one that makes a broad mark. Between the two extremes there are a number of graduations that cover all the conveniences of the lead pencil. These graduations are made by taking the original carbonate and grinding it, and mixing it with a fine quality of clay in differing proportions, regard being had to the use of the pencil. The mixture is thorough, the mass is squeezed through dies to form and size it, it is dried, and incased in its wood envelope.?Scientific American Measurement of Character.?The use of measuring man in his entirety is to be justified by exactly the same arguments as those by which any special examina" >. > JiiofSfia/l unrtVi oe tVinao in IIUIJ."3 (liC JUOUMUVI) guvii uu vuvuv of mathematics; namely, that every measurement tests, in some particulars, the adequacy of the previous education, and contributes to show the efficiency of the man as a human machine at the time it was made. It is impossible to be sure of the adequacy in every respect of the rearing of a man, or of historical efficiency, unless he has measured in character and physique, as well as in intellect. A wise man desires this knowledge for his own use, and for the same reason that he takes stock from time to time of his finances. It teaches him his position among his fellows, and whether he is getting on or falling back, and he shapes his ambitions and conduct accordingly. "Know thyself," is an ancient phrase of proverbial philosophy. Monkey Mind.?A French experimental Mons. J. Fischer, has given an interesting account of observations on monkeys, especially Afacacus rhesus. One of these animals, having been frightened at seeing a *un discharged at some sparrows, extended his fear to a toy pistol suspended from his master's watch-chain, and even to the figure of a revolver illustrating an armorer's catalogue. Several species of monkeys recognize pictures of animals?a proof of the superiority of their intelligence over that of dogs ind elephants. The rhesus knew the names of some sixty or seventy animals confined in cages in the room; he could fully understand the expression of the human countenance, could estimate weights and had a certain, though not strong, sense of number. Men Without Occupation.?The man who has nothing to do is the most miserable of beings. No matter how much ~ ^ ? %^/xnoAoaoa lm non noSfllAr hp SVtmiUl it II1UI1 11V/ vxvu contented nor happy without occupation. We are born to labor and the world is our vineyard. We can find a field of usefulness ilmost anywhere. In occupation we forget )ur cares, our worldly trials, and our sorrows. It keeps us from constantly worryng and brooding over what is inevitable, [f we have enough for ourselves we can la:>or for the good of others; and such a task s one of the most delightful duties a wor:hy and good man can possibly engage n .?Exchange. ? The Cook An* Artist.?The chief cook of i leading hotel in New York lately admitted i reporter to his inner sajictum, and there :onndeed to him the great secret of thecookng art. "Everything in its raw state," ays the oracle, "has a distinctive taste, but he cook's art is to bring it to the surface so hat it reaches the palate. The secret in >ur profession is to supply flavors where hey are absent and to develop them when hey are there, just as the painter makes lis effect stand out from the canvas." AST Nobody is satisfied in this world. If l legacy is left a man, he regrets that it is lot larger. If he finds a sum of money, he earches around for more. If he is elected o some high office, he wishes for a better >ne. If he is rich and wants for nothing, le strives for more wealth. If he is a single nan, he is looking for a wife; if married, or children. Of these latter blessings some nen have too many, some too few, and ome none at all. Man is never satisfied.