Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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__ tm^Kwm^ , jKjtjjjpnpmiinrT n ' ~<*^ lewis m. erist, proifietor. j % Jniicjjtitbciif Jkmilg ftcfospaptr: /or % promotion of % political, Social, ^griralfural anb Conmurrial Interests of % Sotttlj. jTERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 31 ^T YORKVILLE, S C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 8, 1885. Q ?C?M???? ART THOU WATCHING, MOTHER. Art thou watching o'er me, motherLooking through some silvery star, From that angel land above me, To our hum ole world afar ? Bending dost thou smile upon me, As I dream of long ajjo? Days when thou wert with me, mother, Marking out my way below. Art thou watching o'er me, mother, T.?-w-,irinor t.hroiicrh some silvery star. From that angel Tund above me* To our humble world afar? Art thou watching o'er me, mother, When I lav me down to sleep, Arid iriy spiritrides the phantoms ' 'Through and through the dreamy deep, Till among the glittering angels By thy side and blessed I seem ? Am* I really with thee, mother, Tell me, 'is it but a dream ? Art thou watching o'er me, mother, When at times methinks I hear Voices fondly, sweetly calling Me from out some midnight sphere ? And when morning, breaking o'er me, (Jives mo back to earth again-, Art thou watching o'er me mother, From thy starry portal there ? JU Original Jtotjj. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. > WHO WAS MAUD MILLER? BY VICTOR VERNON. PART I. IN THE STUDIO. CHAPTER III. The work of the picture went bravely on. About a fortnight after its beginning, Bir Gregory was forced to succumb to an attick of rheumatism, an unusual foe at that season of the year, but the weather had suddenly become chilly and rainy, and the baronet ventured out when it would have been mare prudent for him to remain indoors. For two days, to Manuel's chagrin, Maud remained away; then she reappeared in company with the faithful Jarley, whom she had easily persuaded her father to accept as his substitute. Mrs. Jarley was a first-rate duenna. She kept her eyes open, so to speak, but shepossessed an indulgent disposition and thought everything that her young lady did ipust be right. As to the artist, she conceived for him, from the first, a warm and sincere liking. She speedily discovered* what Maud as yet had failed to discover? namely, that he was violently in love. "And why not?" said Mrs. Jarley tOjherself. "Every body must love, my fijiveet lamb. It's no matter of surprise to me. I <\nd he's a beautiful young gentleman and a real gentleman too, if he is a painter. What could Sir Gregory expect, when he put Miss Maud in his way? Very likely he would be vexed if he knew; but then[Miss Maud can persuade him into anything mat's for her happiness." These being her sentiments, she was content to watch the progress of affairs without attempting to interfere. Indeed, she had no pretext for interfering, for the Intercourse of the two young people was marked by absolute decorum. Nothing could be more entirely respectful than the young ar-i tist's manner to his fair subject, who,on her - part, was modest dignity ifrmlf ^ marks they exchanged were on the mosi, commonplace topics, and he was never seen so much as to touch her hand, even with the purpose of placing it in a desirable position. One day, however, it became absolutely necessary for him to arrange the lace on be! sleeve, which hung differently from the way in which it had been arranged in the drawing, and altered the effect of the shadow. As he did so his hand brushed her arm, His fingers trembled, a thrill ran through him, and for an instant their eyes met. Ii that glance, his secret was told. A lovely blush swept over Maud's face She instantly averted her eyes and scarcely spoke to him during the remainder of the interview. At their next meeting, she seemed to have entrenched herself ina gentle dignity, somewhat colder than usual. Manuel was wretched. He feared that he had given offence, yet surely it had been unintentional, and therefore did not merit her displeasure. She maintained this demeanor for a day and a half. On the second morning he found himself unable to endure it longer without protest, and bending to straighten a fold in the sweeping drapery of her skirt, said in a low tone, "Forgive me!" "For what?" she rejoined, in the sanje tone. "I don't know; but I want your forgive- j ness. 1 have evidently vexed you." "You are mistaken," she answered, net without agitation. "lam not in the leait vexed." Manuel cast a swift glance around. Mis. Jarley was reading the newspaper. An impulse absolutely irresistible overcame him, and he pressed his lips to the slender hand that hung at Maud's side; then, with lis heart beating like a sledge-hammer, le turned away and went back to his easel. For some moments he painted without daring to lift his eyes, and when at last he ventured to do so,'he saw nothing in heriice that betokened anger. On the contrary, it was tranquil, ami there was even a slight I smile, or so he fancied, on her beautiful: mouth. Ardent hope now tired his breast, and for the first time he said to himself, "It is possible that I may win her!" "Jarley," said the young lady to herit-j tendant that night, as she was having ber long hair brushed out, "how do you thhk my picture is coming on ?" "Splendidly, Miss Maud; Mr. Rivers works well." "It seems to me he is a little sl0\v." -~t "It's a difficult picture to paint, I should think, though of course it's a matter of; which I am no judge. Are you gettiig j tired of going so regularly to the studio?? | "I believe I am?rather. I shall ask him I to-morrow if every other day would not(o j as well." "\0U SI10U1U give mill u iair ciwuice, uv 1 dear." (Long and familiar association wis j Mrs. Jarley's excuse for frequently adoptiig j this familiar mode of address.) "A m<Kt' beautiful picture it will be when it isdoip, | as anyone may see. I think your papa is fortunate to have found somebody able(o I do you justice, at last." "At last! why, I think most of my like-1 nesses are good," said Maud. "Of couise i this is the handsomest picture." "Mr. Rivers is a delightful young gentle-1 man," continued Mrs. Jarley. "Sometimes | I think, from his eloquent manner, tfoit; he must be a nobleman in disguise." At this Maud laughed. "Why should he | disguise himself?" she asked. "A nobie-! man need not be ashamed of being an arifct. It is as honorable a profession as any otler. | The only trouble is, that artists are generally poor." "Not when they grow famous, and ire ! paid hundreds and thousands of pounds fori every picture." I hope Mr. Rivers will get hundreds and i thousands of pounds for all his picture," | said Maud; and then she went to bed, tut not to sleep for a long time. Manuel's handsome, noble face presented itself to fcer vision in the darkness. She could hot banish it, nor, to speak truly, did die try to do so. She knew full well, njw, that he loved her; but she was not so aire of her own feelings. Her father, she vas ' quite aware, cherished ambitious projects lor her. llis hopes, indeed, did not fall slort of a ducal coronet; but though a ducal ;oronet might be a tine thing, it did not seem just then to be specially desirable for ler? ' self. And as for money, she had enough as she supposed, to be able to marry wlxnn she pleased. She considered her fathei to be a very rich man, though she certably had no clear idea of the extent of his in cope. And he had always been most in- j dJgent to her, and never harsh or unkind \ ininis life. Marrying a famous man was bdter, in her estimation, than marrying a ri(h man; and of Manuel's being a gentlein?n she felt no shadow of a doubt. His wkole bearing proclaimed that fact. No Eeer of the realm could surpass him in unjgmished courtesy of deportment and refitment of speech ; and as to his appearaMft?well, he was certainly by far the , hjjulsomest man she knew. He seemed ost of place in his bare, dingy studio. She 1 would have liked to see him surrounded J with objects of luxury, things appropriate i tfliartistic fancy, that would have made a x fitsetting for his beauty and the beauty of ? hfe creations. She had been in artists'stu- . djjps that were in themselves gems of art. places to linger and delight in ; and Manuel hid nothing better about him than horsehair chairs! When the hundreds and thousands of pounds to which Jarley's hopefiil imagination pointed should beshoweredupon him, then might Turkey carpets and rare bronzes be the result; but in the mean time, he seemed to make himself tolerably content with a bare floor. She nM^ecMie was ambitious?she liked ambition, of all things. "Why of coarse, he is ambitious," she said to herself, smiling in the dark; "doesn't he want7?e ?" Certainly, this was a proof. If Maud's wakefulness was prolonged by such thoughts, she was at least more fortunate than Maunel, inasmuch as slumber did come somewhere about the small hours to tranquilize her; whereas the eyelids of the artist were unvisited by the drowsy god all night. If Maud's fancy leaned toward him, yet her regard was as the mild ray of a candle in the beams of noonday sun, compared to the flame that was kindled in his nwrl nr\ 4- knrittf * a wuuui ucaiu | Having gone so far as has been recorded, ( it seemed necessary that he should go far- ( ther, and inform himself definitely of the ? tangibility of his hopes. But speech un- ] constrained, on such a subject, he could not j arrive at in the presence of a third party. ] He did not expect ever to find himself alone ( with Maud in the studio; and besides, he } felt that it would be more proper to follow her for such a purpose to her own home { than to take advantage of her enforced f presence in his room, even if the opportuni- j ty he desired should there present itself. < He must at least, however, finish her pic- ] ture before he ran the risk of incurring Sir ? Gregory's displeasure, and thus, perhaps, \ put a stop to tneir present intercourse. For \ he felt that there was certainly a risk, and ( although he believed that mutual love is i etrong enough (provided it be the genuine j article) to overcome all obstacles in the end, yet he realized the folly of destroying, by an \ act of rashness, the present delight of reg- i alar companionship with his beloved. j After thinking over the situation, he de- ] cided that there could be no harm in writing < to her. \ 1 Suppose he were to take Mrs. Jarley suf- < flciently into his confidence to entrust her ] with the note? ] Or, better still, could he not present her i with the missive without being seen? No, he would do nothing clandestine, < nothing unworthy of his love. He would ] write through the post and let her act in re- ] gard to the matter as she pleased. t But after he had composed four letters ] and torn them up by turns, his cour- ' age failed, and he resolved to wait. The ? Kortrait once completed, he would present \ imselfatSir Gregory's house as a friend < and equal and boldly enter the lists with ?, the nufan- { cy pictured as arrayed agaiust nim. It ] would be a daring step, but he feltequal to it. ] The fervent Hummer days wore on. The ] baronet's rheumatism yielded finally to ? the influence of genial skies, and with re- < stored health he once more made his ap- j pearance in the artist's studio. He pro- ] fessed himself charmed with the picture, j which had made great progress, and already seemed near completion. One afternoon, as Manuel was sitting idle ? before the canvas, contemplating, with de- ] vouring gaze, the representation of what j had become to him the highest possible type j of beauty, there was a sharp rap at his door, j and in auswer to his summons, a thin, bent i old lady, dressed with old-fashioned ele- , gance, entered, leaning upon a cane. j "Aunt Isabella !" he exclaimed, rising in j great astonishment. < "Aye, it's me," was the reply. "As you ' would not do me the honor of calling, I i thought I'd come round and call on v/oa." 1 "I did not know?" began Manuel, at a , loss what to say. ( "Did not know I wanted to see you, hey ? , Well, it floe.s seem a foolish whim on my Eart," said his visitor, sinking down on the , orse-hairscfa, from which the artist hastily swept some encumbrances away, "What hard seats you've got here?fit to break one's bones." j "I am sorry I have none softer to offer you," rejoined Manuel. i "Soft seats cost more money, I suppose. ; Well, are you pretty busy, now? What are you doing at present ?" 1 "I am painting?a portrait," said Manuel, ; suddenly feeling a strong reluctance to show his work. It was impossible^ however, to conceal it from the bright vivacious eyes of Lady Isabella, who immediately rose and came round to the front of the picture, which was certainly large enough to attract her observation. "So! you have gay young ladies for your subjects," she exclaimed, in evident surprise. "Whom have we here?" "Miss Barnett," said Manuel, briefly. "Barnett?not old Gregory Burnett's daughter?" "The same." "Ho!?how did they find you out?" "As anybody else would, I suppose. I am not entirely unknown, aunt," added the artist, with spirit. ^ ' -l-i i.i. ; . ^ "?So it appears, uuc oiu narneu i.-s u scamp." "A whatt" ?"A scamp, I said." "You surprise me," said Manuel. "Very likely, "drily said his aunt. "It's my opinion, nevertheless. I believe the world regards him otherwise; but I am seldom deceived. And you are painting this girl! She is pretty, upon my word. I suppose such work is a pleasure to you." "Naturally, yes." "Very naturally. A greater pleasure, I suppose', than painting the likeness of an ugly, dried up old woman like me." "l)o you wish me to paint your portrait?" asked 5lanuel courteously, ignoring the tone of her remark. "1 am thinking about it?indefinitely. You must finish this grand work first, otherwise it would continually distract your thoughts." "I shall be at your service whenever you ! call upon nie, aunt." Lady Isabella gazed long and fixedly at i the beautiful face, whose soft eyes looked i dreamily away from her, as if fastened on ! some distant object. The artist had thrown j over the whole figure an air of exquisite venose, rather than of expectancy. The j grace of look and attitude could scarcely i have been surpassed. "You are more of an artist than I thought you. You will do well," was his aunt's comment as she turned away. "And now tell me something of yourself, outside of your work." An hour or two later, Manuel imparted to his friend Halliday the astounding fact that Lady Isabella Eustace had paid him a visit. "I'm not surprised, though you expect me to be," said Jack. "Didn't you know that she and Belmont had fallen out? Now is your opportunity, my boy?take my advice and make the the most of it." j [to hp: continued.] There is a general harmony between the colors of an animal and that of habitation. We have the white polar bear, and the sand-colored camel, and the dusky twilight moths. There are birds and reptiles so near tinted and mottled as to exactly match the rocks, or ground, or bark of th'e tree they frequent. p0tof Iravd in (^wope. OBSERVATIONS ON IRELAND. BY REV. R. LATJIAN. [W ritten for the Yorkvillo Enquirer.] One description, which has sometimes )een given of Scotland, is that it is a "wee )it countrie." This will also do for Ireland, [ts greatest length?that from Miezen Head, n Cork, to Benmore or Fairhead, in Ant im, is 302 miles,audits greatest breadth, tt right angles to this line, from Wicklow, )n the Irish sea, to Erris Head, on thenorthvestern coast of Mayo county, is 180 miles, [n extent of territory, Ireland is only a lit;le larger than the State of South Carolina. The population of Ireland, however, is more ,han five times as great as that of South Carolina. The population of Ireland was, it one time, nearly twice what it is now. since the year 1851, three millions of Ireand's population have emigrated to other :ountnes. Dtfifing the year 1881, 78,419 left ;he island. I have no means of knowing, ,vith certainty, where all these emigrants vent; but from what I learned, I think that ;he greater part of the Protestant emigrants vent to Australia. The Catholics generally ?ame to the United States. A few years previous to 1851, Ireland was visited with what is known as the potato )light. This blight continued for several pears, and the result was thatgreat numbers >f the people were reduced to beggary, and nany of them actually died of hunger, rhe crops failing, made it impossible for the 'armers to pay their rents. The landlords, n many instances, showed no pity. The ?nants were turned, or rather driven, out )f their houses. Some of those thus turned )ut of their houses emigrated, others took shelter under the eaves of their former louses, while not a few congregated in the public high-ways and died of hunger. The louses out of which these tenants were drivm, or out of which they fled, are, at least many of them, to-day without an occupant. The failure of a crop in every country is ittended with much suffering to the poor. This is one of the marked features of Ireand. The Irish potato is the principal food if the poor. In fact, I never, so far as I low remember, eat a dinner in Ireland, outside of a city, without potatoes being on the :able. The potato will not keep over for ;wo years. Hence a failure of the potato ;rop for two years in Ireland is certain to iroduce a famine among a class of the inhabitants. Of the whole population of Ireland, more :han one-twelfth are paupers. As some one will, no doubt, call thisin question, the facts ire stated. The population of Ireland in 1881 is stated to be 4,746,214, and the number if paupers to be 565,646. It is claimed that the larger number of these paupers are Catholics. I do not know that this is correct. I think, however, that it is. The province of Ulster, which is admitted by ill to be the stronghold of Protestantism in Ireland, and the largest of the four provinces ixcept that of Munster, has a population of 1,875,221, of whom 85,776 are paupers. The province of Munster, with a larger extent of territory, but a population of 351,083 less, has 156,270 paupers, or 70,494 more than Ulster. The greatest number of paupers are in Lienster province, while it is, except Connaught, the smallest in territory and in the number if its inhabitants. The population of Lienster province is 1,449,599, of whom 178,094 ire paupers* In perhaps every county of Ireland there are Protestants, and the same nay be said of the Catholics. Still, it is admitted that the province Ulster is the stronghold . of Protestantism in Ireland. Such being the case, the above facts prove, ilmosttoa demonstration, that poverty in Ireland is mainly restricted to the Catholic population. There is a fact in connection with this Irish pauperism that may be interesting to some persons. It is the manner of supporting these paupers. In England, Ireland ind Scotland, there are what they call poor laws. These laws are enacted by the Eng! <">^><-1 linim thoir nllirx-f USI1 jruiimilicill., c.uu imvk 1UI wiv.1* the support of the paupers. The manner of executing these laws is, when divested of legal technicalities,simply this. The number of paupers is ascertained and a certain sum of money specified for their support. This money is raised by taxing the property holders, using that word in its Irish sense, to mean all those who are tanners and have other taxable investments. In other words, everybody who has anything is taxed, except the landlords. Those who have the land of the landlords leased pay all the tax, either directly or indirectly. The land of Ireland is valued at 13,76(1,59") pounds sterling. On this there is raised by taxation, or by rates, as they call it, 1,151,878 pounds sterling for the support of the poor. In other words, the land of Ireland is valued at sixty-eight and a half millions of dollars, and on that there is raised five and one-half millions of dollars for thesupportot paupers. The county Antrim, with a population of 387,269, pays a poor rate of more than four hundred thousand dollars; or more than one dollar for each inhabitant. The three counties of Ireland which have the greatest number of paupers are Dublin, Cork and Antrim. The first, 52,635; the second, 58,198; and the last has 3-1,737. These are facts which I am unable to account for, only in part. In Dublin county is situated the city of Dublin ; in Cork county, the city of Cork; and in the county of Antrim, the town of Belfast. Dublin city has a population of about 300,000; Cork, about 100,000; and Belfast, about 250,000. These aggregate a population of 650,000. Of this number, a large per cent., as is the case in all large cities, are no doubt paupers. In addition tc these, there are in these counties several other towns, which, in some parts of the United States would be regarded as considerable cities. These, no doubt, have a great per cent, of paupers. Perhaps the reader is ready to conclude that Ireland presents a repulsive aspect on account of its paupers. Such is not the case. There is, in reality, nothing repulsive about Ireland, except that system of landlordism which has been in existence since the days of James I. Even that has been, in many of its features, greatly ameliorated, and the probability is, that the time is not far distant, when the whole system, at least in its most objectionable and oppressive features, will be swept out of existence. That there are manifest signs of poverty?squalid poverty?in Ireland, no one who knows anything about the Island will deny; but there are at the same time unmistakable signs of such wealth as is never seen in the United States, except in the large cities. By far the greater portion ol the inhabitants of Ireland are in comfortable circumstances, and many of them are immensely rich. The better class of the Irish live more comfortably than the same class does in our own country. Their houses are better, and the convenience? about their houses are far greater. The difference between a rich man and a poor man in Ireland is, it must be admitted, much greater than it is in the United States, This is one thing that makes America the poor man's country. It is usual to speak of the Irish?I mean the inhabitants ol Ireland?as uncouth, llence, to say thai an individual is "as green as a raw Irishman" means that the individual is as green as he can be. The comparison has its origin in ignorance, and has not a single fad to give it even the shadow of truthfulness The Protestant inhabitants, of Ireland are r very intelligent people, and their hospitality is without a parallel. There are many persons in Ireland, who, it is conceded, arc grossly ignorant. Such is the casein London, and such is the case in every country The whole population of a country is not t< be judged of by these. There is something very commendable about the mass of the Protestant populatioi of Ireland. Unlike the Irishman's flea they are always where they appear to be They have the moral courage to say what they mean and do what they think is right The inhabitants of Ulster province are great readers, and it seems to be characteristic of them to have retentive memories. The physical conformation of Ireland is very peculiar. It is mountainous on the coast, and comparatively level in the interior. The mountains, which form a natural barrier around the coast, are not a continuous chain of mountains, hut rather groups of what, in some parts of America, would be called high hills. These groups are often pierced by narrow plains which seem to extend from the centre of the island to the coast. There are no long mountain ranges in Ireland. There are no ? Mnnrvoa of oil Kut rvrntma ai* pine. Hiuuuimu iaijj;co ?i? uuf i/ui/ giuupo wi *, %** ters of mountains. Neither are there any high mountains in Ireland. The highest is Carrantuohill in Kerry county. It is 3,414 feet high. Some of our peaks are nearly 18,000 feet high. A great plain, elevated above the sea, from two to three hundred feet, and about one hundred and fifty miles wide, extends from east to west across Ireland. This plain rests on a limestone substratum and embraces the finest portion of the island. Ireland is remarkable for the great number and large extent of its bogs. These bogs arouse the curiosity of strangers in no small degree. Every individual who visits Ireland has numerous questions to ask about the bogs, and is never satisfied until he puts his hand on the peat or turf, and sees it burn. There are two kinds of bogs in Ireland. One is called the flat bogs and the other the mountain bogs. The flat bogs cover an area of about a million and a half acres, and the mountain bogs about a million and a quarter. The two cover two and three-quarter millions of acres, or nearly one-seventh part of the whole surface of Ireland. The flat bogs are chiefly in the interior, while the mountain bogs are confined principally to the coast highlands. The flat bogs are also called red bogs, because they are generally of a redish or brownish color. I have no means of ascertaining the exact number of these flat bogs, but I feel safe in saying there are more than a thousand, varying in size from a few rods to near forty thousand acres. Sometimes these bogs are separated * - A A- - * ?la-:? s oy jnrge inicu ui cuiuviuku num, mine i others are disjoined by only narrow ridges of dry ground. The largest bog in Ireland, and so far as I know in the world, is the Bog of Allen. This occupies portions of Kildare, King's, Queen's, Meath and Westmeath counties. The principal part, however, is in Kildare county, and covers about thirty-six thousand acres of ground. The mountain bogs cover the flat tops and sides of the mountains, and differ, chiefly, so far as I could see, from the flat bogs, in that they are smaller and are dryer. The ! American meaning of the word bog will five us but a vague and incorrect idea of an rish bog. A bog means, in our country, generally, a spot of wet ground into which those who attempt to pass over it gre liable to sink, or as is usually said, "mire down." A bog in America is a small swamp. The only thing peculiar about either an American bog or swamp is that it is dangerous to travel over it. All Irish bogs are not swampy. Some of them are wet and splashy, while others are dry. It is dangerous to walk over some of the bogs of Ireland, but over others an individual may walk with impunity, and, in fact, the greatest comfort, j The sensation experienced is the same as if; he were walking on a carpet spread on a j thick layer of straw, and the sound produced by the tread of his f?et is the same. The peculiar thing about an Irish bog is J the peat or turf which it contains. It is i this peat or turf .which makes the bog.; This peat consists of several mosses which ; grow in these bog localities. The principal! moss is called sphagnum, or bog moss. It is j a curious looking thing, resembling nothing j that I ever saw, except an artificial moss I that is some times grown in jars for the I purpose of making a peculiar kind of beer, j Wherever, in the bog region, there is any i stagnant water this sphagnum grows rapidly | i and dies in a short time. This is followed j by successive crops which soon die. The | dead sphagnum accumulates, and it is this that makes the peat or turf which the Irish use extensively for fuel. Some of the flat i peat beds are very deep or thick. The i layer of peat in the Bog of Allen is, in some I places, over forty feet thick; its average thickness is twenty-five feet. If the supply 1 of water is sufficient, the bog continues to j increase in depth and extent. The manner of preparing the peat for use is very simple. It is cut out with a spade, in blocks about a foot long and six inches | thick. These peat blocks have the general I appearance of large bricks. After being { cut, the peat blocks are stacked up to dry, j j very much as brick makers stack up bricks I | to dry. 80 soon as the blocks are dry they j 1 are hauled home and again stacked up under : ' a shelter. I cannot say that the Irish peat makes a! | good fire. It is too light or porous, but it; does much better than those who have nev-! j er seen it burning would suppose. The j 'I time for cutting the peat is in the spring! I and early summer. '1 It is difficult to imagine a more intensely 1 gloomy and desolate appearance than that presented by a large Irish flat bog. In these bogs are sometimes found the | i trunks of oak, fir and birch trees. Some of j j these trees are very large. The oak is jet j I black, very hard, and is capable of being j polished as smooth as glass. The fir logs; , are so thoroughly impregnated with resin ; that the poor people split them into long; i strips and burn them instead of lamps or1 candles. Thk Inventor of Matches.?Accord 1 ing to a German paper, the inventor of lu; cifer matches was a political prisoner, who | perfected his idea in 1883, within the walls of a state prison. Kra in merer was a 11a-j t tive of Ludwigsburg, and when sentenced j to six months' imprisonment at Ilohenas perg, he was fortunate enough to attract the ' j notice and to gain the favor of an old officer : . in charge of the prison, who, finding he was studying chemistry, allowed him to arrange , a small laboratory in his eel1. Kammerer - had been engaged in research-,s with a view *>f imnrnvinrr the defective steeping system, | "* *"*r*v o ? -- i according to which splinters of wood, with sulpher at the ends, were dipped into a ; chemical fluid in order to produce aflame. If the fluid was fresh the result was satis ' factory, but as it lost its virtues after a ' time, there was no general disposition to j discontinue the old-fashioned system of j using flint and steel. After many failures ! Karnmerer began to experiment with phosI j phorous, and had almost completed his i term of imprisonment when he discovered ' '! the right mixture and kindled a match by i j rubbing it against the walls of his cell. On f coming out of prison he commenced the j manufacture of matches. Unfortunately, ! the absence of a patent law prevented his j right from being secured, and an Austrian ! j and other chemists analyzing the composi-1 ' | tion, imitations speedily made their appear- j ' j ance. In IS:}-") the German states prohibited the use of these matches, considering them ; i! dangerous. When they were made in Eng- j II land and sent to the continent these regula-! tions were withdrawn, but too late to be of : I any benefit to the inventor, who died in : the madhouse of his native town in 1837. | tj A Dakota Blow.?"Blow! It'll blow ahorse right out of the harness and snake i a cutter over the prairie at the rate of a - i mile a minit. And then you've got to be tj mighty careful to keep your baton or it'll . j blow you bald headed in less'n no time. 11 Beats a Siox Indian on the warpath for ' raisin' hair. That's the reason there are so - many bald headed men in Dakota; that, >|an'lyin' 'bout the country. An' by gosh j it'll blow your does right off' you too, and . j then you'r deader,than an icicle, iou nave > i to strap 'etn on. Nobody goes out doors in ! Dakota without some straps in his pockets. ;; Then you'll think it's gittin' cold, but you i. won't know how cold it is till you pull out , yer whisky bottle an' find it froze solid, . 'specially if its Dakota whisky. Beats all t how little cold Dakota liquor can stand."? . A7. Paul Day. IpsccUaneflus finding. S ! u SHOOTING AN OIL WELL. ti (SETTI NO A COLUMN OF OIL UXOEll COX- ? ^ TJIOL. 0 V Right between these two wonderful foun- t; tains was drilling the Armstrong, Boyd & t Semple well, and it was expected to pour * out torrents of oil, but on October it pass- ^ ed through the sand rock without having t made a flow. The hole stood full of salt d water, with a few feet of oil on top, but the a owners were discouraged, honing at best to develop the well into tu,very small producer, n The patient field met) :.$pd scouts were thun- I derstruck and could Hastily believe the evidence of their senses', "but in all candor they were compelled to report to their principals that the well was a failure. The owners, as a last hope, determined to explode a large torpedo in the well, and accordingly on Monday, the 27th, lowered fifty quarts! of nitro-glycerine in it. The weight was! dropped shortly after ten o'clock in the : morning, and the crowd of spectators j watched listlessly, merely to see what effect! the tremendous explosion would have, ex-1 t pecting little or no improvement in the well. First came the sound of a report like a i t pistol shot, the only detonation of a fearful! * explosion 1,600 feet below the surface, j 1 Then a column of salt water shot up half as t high as the eighty foot derrick and subsided, flooding the derrick. Then came a! t torrent of water, burnt glycerine, petrole- J um, sand and pebbles and rushed in a ^ black column to the crown pulley on top j t of the derrick, where it broke and spread 1 like a parachute, coming down again in : < a shower. Gradually the black column j 1 changed color, until it was like a golden : 1 rod, connecting the floor of the derrick with I > the top, and still the mighty torrent rushed i on. Hidden for a moment by the cloud of ( gas that came after the first burst and rose like steam from a boiler explosion the column appeared again, rushing upward J j with irresistible force until dashed to spray ! 1 on the derrick top. The shower of petrole-; j um fell thick and fast, over an area ten rods 1 in diameter, and flowed down the hillside, j nnmniofpiv fUlinrr sienlvertacross the neitrh WUi^AVWV.^ e ^ boring highway, and pouring down a gully 1 toward Thorn creek, where the flood spread 1 and covered the tlat grassy bank, before ( finding its way into the creek. Attempts ( were made to estimate the flow by obstruct- . ing this torrent, but the dams were overflowed before they were half constructed, J' and two boards, a foot wide, placed two 1 feet apart, so the stream passed between j: them, wera overflowed on both sides. Telegrams flw to all the oil exchanges esti- 1 mating the flow at 100, 200, 000 and finally 400 barrels per hour, and the market which ] had advanced on reports that the well was a failure nearly ten cents, dropped ten cents j in a few hours, crushing fortunes and fair ; hopes in its fall. No grander sight than this fountain of petroleum was ever witnessed in this region, j Like the great geyser of the Yellowstone basin, it shot the fluid column high into the air, but the iallingspray, unlike the geyser's , < crystal drops, were globes of shimmering j gold as the light shone through the amber | liquid. And there was something terrible in this exhibition of nature's powers. The gas that left the surging column like steam, ;1 spread through the surrounding wood, so that the fires at dozens of drilling wells had to be put out. People fled from their rude dwellings down near the creek, as there was imminent danger that the gas and oil would be ignited and result in a terrible conflagration. The fires under the boilersat the United Pipe Line pumpingstation,a mile down Thrvrn freel*- hrtfl tn he Dllt OtltOn aCCOUllt Of -* ,,v* "* v" WV"*J " **? ? [ the gas, as the torrent poured out unre- i strained for over four hours. A pressure of over 3,000 pounds was re-, quired to get the cap down on the casing-' head when the flood was turned into the 1 tanks and one workman was overcome by the hydro-carbon gas, so that he lay all night unconscious. When the stream was turned into the gas tank the eight two-inch pipes! to the large tanks were instantly filled to their utmost capacity, and from two threeinch gas escapes in the top of the gas tank ; streams were thrown far above the top of the derrick. For days afterward the spot jsurrounding the well, when seen through the trees, looked as though the sun was brightening it, so bright was the amber oil ; that clung to the branches of the trees, the derrick, and lay thick on the ground. SYSTEM ATI C^S A VIX G. With the bulk of our people the saving of j small amounts in some regular, systematic ; way opens the only possiblity of attain- i ing a competency or a little sum for a rainy ; day. Some one has said it is the first ?1,000 j on the way to fortune that means hard work 1 and pinching economy. After that all is easy. And it is so; whether we gain a for-1 tune or not, the start always involves small and sharp economy. Where this is practiced it often becomes the basis of after prosperity. But where this does not follow it provides for the emergencies that are sure to come to all. There are ways of saving which can be adopted and which, once entered on, become habitual and easy. Of course the beginning of all saving is to live within our means. If we have debts to offset our saving, we do not really save at all. Hence forecast as to the use of our | income, so that it shall come within our ; range, is first. And when it is determined : how much to save, the most rigid discipline ; is necessary to keep it up. There are al- > ways, in a family, special demands, cover-j ing things pleasant to have, and which, if acceded to, will easily eat up the margin we 1 had set apart for savings. The rigid control of our wants is, therefore, a first ele- J ment in a course of saving. This may in-j volve privation, at least for a time, but this is a necessity if we propose to save at all. It is easy to persuade ourselves that certain 1 gratifications are necessities, which may not be so at all. Hence firmness, even to rigidity, is a first class element of saving. And once begun, unless unforeseen and imperative requirements are made, we should j not swerve from our plans. A dollar a week saved and placed in a ! savings bank will aggregate ?">2 a year. Let us suppose 4 per cent, is obtained for it. , At the end of the second year it aggregates ?100. In twenty years it will amount to over ?1,000. Five dollars a week saved and placed at interest will speedily buy a \To..tt /Iniri/um li'U-n Iwwui i.iv-iuirlnfl [ nwiiir, luau^ vi\; > ivvg iiu? v, pn/? iv?w% to stimulate saving. Building loans, sav-! ings banks, life insurance, and many other things. Anyaregood,ifreliableandsound. It is the discouragement resulting from the loss of savings which has done so much damage in this country. But when our: moneys are placed in sound institutions loss rarely follows. And where the habit of saving is established it affects the life, inducing regularity and order in all directions. Perhaps the tendency of our people is in this line. At all events there is no country in the world where systematic saving can be done with less privation than here. The general hindrances are speculation and the happy-go-lucky disposition, which cares i for nothing. But there are few fortunes the { result of speculation or luck compared with ; the number gained by thrift, and saving. And prosperity thus secured is apt to he permanent, because of the habits which attend the success. In our general life there is nothing more important than this. It will not only secure prosperity, or at least provision for the rainy day that is sure to come, but will also induce habits of thrift which will be useful in forming communities of good citizens. We therefore commend systematic saving as contributing to! virtue and home happiness as well as thrift and comfort. Tiik Oijjkct of Kxkkcise.?If a strong, active man, in perfect health, were to lie down in idleness for a few months, his i strength and vigor would depart from him, J his muscles would become.soft and weak, nd he would be, in fact, an invalid. Were e then to rise up and take moderate exerise at first, gradually increasing the amount j ntil he had resumed his accustomed activi- j ies, his muscles would resume their former ; rmness and strength. Men have control I ver their health, and if they fail to do their j art in the world it is usually their own | uilt. If they strive to do too much and hus impair health and shorten life, it is till their own fault. Those are happiest nd live the longest who are well nourished | nd whose regular business demands about he same amount of bodily activity every lay, as would be essential to health under ny circumstances. The object of exercise is to stimulate the ! ':,iil ni-minii tn Imolflifill flctivitv. The I nai i/i ptuio iw aKutviiiui mv.. . ?^ - ireathing becomes more rapid under exerise, the blood is more rapidly oxygenized, he circulation is quickened, and the refuse natters are eliminated more promptly for he system; the digestive organs do their vork more promptly and more thoroughly, ind a demand is soon made for a new mateial ; the individual is hungry and takes ood with an increased relish. Thus the nachinery of life runs on smoothly and natirally under the stimulus of fresh air and sxercise, thestrength is renewed and disease >anished. The best of all methods of exescise is lorse-back riding,and this is the reason: he horse does most of the work and the ider receives most of the benefit, because le does not exhaust his own strength, but hat of the horse in taking the exercise. J The rider is passive to a great extent, par-: icularly if he has a horse with an easy gait. : lie is shaken up without becoming fatigued, md he really gets more air in the lungs ;han if he were walking. Another most important point isthe excitement and pleasure )f riding ; it is often a new sensation, while .valking is common place and soon becomes iiresome, and then its benefits diminish. 5till walking is nextto horseback riding and s a method of locomotion that renders us juite independent. Territory of Alaska.?Our most west?rn possession is, to the great majority, a ancl unknown, a land unappreciated, a region of doubts. We have owned the country since 18(57, but what of that? Only a score know what revenues it brings. Alaska scenery rivals in grandeur and beauty that of Switzerland and Norway, but how few are aware of this ? It has glaciers larg?r than any other in the world, but what has sver been said of them ? The Territory of Alaska, purchased from Russia in 18(57 for $7,200,000, has an area of 380,107 square miles, or a size equal to all of the United States east of the Mississippi River and North of Alabama, Georgia and North Carolina. Its extreme breadth from fast to west is 2,200 miles. The Island of * ' * 4 ? - r x AttU, 111 Aia.SKU, is as jar west 01 onn x itin?isco as the coast of Maine is east of that city. The length of Alaska is 1,400 miles, and the shore line up and down the baysand around the islands is 25,000 miles. In other words, the coast of Alaska, if extended in a straight line, would belt the globe. Along the entire length of the coast its islands are grouped before the gently curving mainland, and between them run deep channels, with a heavy growth of trees and shrubs covering their banks. There are big islands and little ones, but all have their thick covering of forests, which, in nearly every instance, have never been disturbed by man. So thickly indeed do the trees grow, and so rank is the shrubbery, that one can hardly travel inland, and the natives of the country depend entirely upon their cedar canoes when moving from place to place. The canoe, in fact, is to the people of Alaska what the gondola is to Venetians ; and like the dwellers by the Adriatic, those in the far North know nothing of and care nothing for the horses which in other places are so necessary. Tiik Banana.?1The banana is an annual, the fruit coining to maturity about a year after the shoot is planted, the trunk of the tree subsequently attaininga height of from eight feet to ten feet, and a girth of thirtysix inches. From this trunk, which is of a fibrous nature, are thrown out long palmlike branches, at the junction of which appears the fruit, each group of bunches, numbering from four to twelve, being called a "hand," and each hand having eight to ten bananas upon it. A bunch of eight hands is the ordinary standard size of shipping fruit. From the root of the tree several shoots or suckers sprout, each of which, in turn, becomes a fresh tree. The life of the banana tree, however, is not usually long, for it is felled after the fruit is gathered, and sometimes indeed, during the operation. Jamaica contains a good many banana plantations, varying in size from twenty-five thousand to two hundred thousand trees, for the most part cultivated by the small settlers iu the different parishes. These holdings generally consist of three or four acres of land, on which the owners live in a temporary mud hut, being afraid to leave their property to the tender mercies of their neighbors, who rob each other's ground with the strictest impartiality whenever they get a chance. The cultivation is very primitive. Theland being cleared by a big iron hoe, a hole is dug and the sucker planted in it, in most cases nature doing all that is necessary ; but in the larger plantations the trees are planted ?-:n- ?? ~ ,\f fnrm nf Willi MJIIltf UCgiCl? v^l AMM v..v, .vr?... v. squares, and trenches are dug for irrigation, the banana thriving best in damp, stiff soil. Plow Do You Lik??Dr. Delaunay, an eminent French student, writes to the Paris Biological .Society on the subject of dreams. The character of our dreams, lie claims, is very much determined by the position we occupy in sleep. The most general method of lying, perhaps, is on the right side, and tliis appears to be also the most natural method, for many persons object to lying upon the side of the heart, which, it has been more than once asserted, should have action during sleep. Nevertheless, Dr. Delaunay's statements hardly harmonize with this opinion. When one sleeps upon the right side, that is to say, upon the right side of the brain, one'sdreams have marked and rather unpleasant characteristics. These characteristics, however, are essentially those which enter into the popular definition of dreams. One'sdreams are then apt to be illogical, absurd, childish, uncertain, incoherent, full of vivacity and exaggeration. Dreams which come from sleeping on the right side are, in short, simply deceptions. They bring to the mind very old or faint remembrances, and they are often accompanied by nightmares. Dr. Delaunay points out that sleepers freqently compose verse or rhythmical language while they are lying on their right side. This verse, though at times correct enough, is absolutely without sense. The moral faculties are then at work, but the intellectual faculties are absent. < >11 the other hand, when a person slumbers on his left brain, his dreams are not only less absurd, but they may also be intelligent. They are, as a rule, concerned with recent things, not with reminiscences. ? BftY" fsome years agouii'iaiewo\ciin? jinwbard of Connecticut, was a member of a coterie which met periodically to play whist. One of the party who was locally famous for his slovenly habits and soiled dress, astonished his friends on one occasion by appearing with a beautiful white rose in his buttonhole. Addressing Mr. Hubbard, he said: "Hubbard, did you ever see a finer rose than that? Now, where do you imagine I got that rose?" The ex-Governor looked quizzically at the flower resting in the dirty loop-hole and answered: "Looks as though it might have grown there." Globules of fat occur in many inollusks and insects, but true adipose tissue is found only in the back-boned animals, particularly the herbiferous. In theaverage man it constitutes about one-twentieth part of his weight, and a single whale has yielded GOO barrels of oil. The fat of animals has the different names of oil, lard, tallow, suet and spermaceti. It is a reserve of nutriment in excess of consumption, serving also as a packing material and as a protection aganst eold^, WINTER IN MINNESOTA. Careful preparations for the cold season begin about the first of November. Every tolerably well built house is provided with a duplicate set of windows, which lie in the cellar from April to November and are then hung outside the regular windows, so as to leave a few inches of air space between. An aperture in the sash closed by a slat is provided for ventilating purposes, or, better still, one of the panes is made to open on hinges. Storm doors are hung, and the weather-strip man does a thriving business. All cracks and crannies through which the searching north wind might find its way are stopped up. Great quantities of coal are put into the cellars. Pennsylvania anthracite is the favorite domestic fuel, and as it costs from nine to ten dollars a ton and you burn twice as much of it as you would in Philadelphia or New York the expense nf warming'a house is a formidable item in the domestic budget. Ohio block coal is. burned in grates, and also the inferior bituminous coal from Iowa, and considerable hard wood is used, but for the furnace and the big self-feeding stove there is nothing like anthracite. Stoves, by the way, are of enormous size, reaching up nearly to the ceilings. Everything points to a severe struggle with the frost. Hilman ingenuity gets the better of the struggle, however, and it is possible to live herewith as much comfort during the cold season as in any city in the East. Indeed, I have found that the places where one suffers most in the winter arenn latitudes like that of South Carolina, where no reasonable preparations are made for winter. The reader may ask, "What do the people out on the bleak prairies in the little claim shanties do to make existence tolerable?" The common protection against the piercing winds is the tarred l;uiiding paper, which, in well-constructed houses, is nailed upon the studding inside of the weatherboarding. Cheap shanties are covered on the outside with this paper fastened ou in long sheets by narrow cleats of wood nailed over the joints. A building so encased has an ugly look, but it is blizzard-proof. The thin board walls, however, are a poor defence against the still cold, and many settlers surround their dwellings with thick embankments of turf reaching up to the eaves and embrasured for the windows and doors. A house so prepared is almost as warm as a cellar. Barns are frequently protected in the same way on the northern side, or a big straw-stack is thrown upas a wind | break. In eastern Dakota a good deal or anthracite is burned, dear as it is, and it costs about $lo a ton. Hardwood, hauled on the railroad from the Minnesota forests, is worth from $6 to $8 per cord. It is a common mistake in the East to suppose that this is peculiarly a snowy country. The snow-fall here is not nearly as great as in Pennsylvania, and the further you go west the lighter it is. The railroads I are never obstructed by storms of moist j snow that packs as it falls. All they have ! to contend with is the dry snow driven by I the wind into the cuts. Every cut, even if only two feet deep, must be protected by a snow-fence on the northern siae. The snow is so dry that it gets no hold on the ground and is swirled about at the sport of wind like dust. People never carry umbrellas here when it snows, for the fine, hard, white paticles do not even damage the ladies' bonnets.?.SV. Pant Letter to Philadelphia Times. Origin of the White Max.?There I may be remains of Stone Age whites, but ! there are no certain remains of white sav| ages of a low order. We may well doubt if there ever were any whitesavages; it is more likely that the white men were developed late in the history of the world from ancestors already far on in civilization; in fact, that this civilization, with its improved supply of food, its better housing and clothing, its higher intellectuality, was one main factor in the development of the white type. Here, however, it must be remembered that there is not a white race in | the sense in which there is a Carib race or an Andaman race. It includes several race types, and even the same language such as English or German, may be spoken by men as blonde as Danes or as dark as Sicilians. | The fair-haired Scandinavian type has some! thing of the definiteness of a true race; but | as one travels south there appear, not well! defined sub-races, but darkening graduations : of bewildering complexity. The most reasonable attempt to solve i this intricate problem is Prof. Huxley's i view that the white race is made up of fair whites of the Northern or Scandinavian j type, and dark whites who are the results of"ages of mixture between the fair whites : and the darker nations, though it is per{ haps hardly prudent to limit these dark ancestors to one variety as he does. If now j we cannot trace the white man down to the i low level of primitive savagery, neither scan we assign to him the ^reat upwaru I movement by which the barbarian passed ! into civilization. It is not to the Aryan or I Persia nor to the Semite of Syria that the : art of writing belongs which brought on the new era of culture.?E. 11. Taylor in Xafnre. A Light-hea rted People.?One can j scarcely pass a day at the lar South without j being impressed with the happy, apparenti ly contented nature of the negro. Every day about the railroad stations can be found a group of negroes, one of whom is invariably playing a banjo. In the evening one can always And parties of them sitting out ? of doors around a lire of pine logs, dancing to the banjoist's music or singing. So, too, was it the case on the St. John's River steamer. Long into the night we could hear negro hands on the boat singing with much melody as they piled up wood on the lower deck. * In fact, such sights and sounds are ever:present features of the life there, and seem to belong to it as much as do the fragrant pine woods and the beautiful "hammock" land. Cell Forces of the Braix.?According to the novel computation of a German histologist, who has been calculating the aggregate cell forces of the human brain, the cerebral mass is composed of at least100,000,000 of nerve cells, each an independent body, organism, and microscopic brain, so far as concerns its vital relations, but subordinated to a higher purpose in relation to the function of the organ; each living a separate life individually, though socially subject to a higher law of function. The lite term of a nerve-cell he estimates to be about sixty days; so that 5,000,000 die every day, about 200,000 every hour, and nearly 3,500 every minute to be succeeded by an equal number of their progeny; while once in every sixty days a man has a totally new brain. ? How Coffee is Graded.?The reason that Rio coffee is not quoted high in this market is that only the lower grades of Brazilian coffee are called Rio coffee. The best coffee from Rio de Jeneiro is called "Java," "Mocha," etc. You see the planters send their coffee to Rio and then it is all mixed together, the good and the bad, in order to get an average price. When it gets here it is taken to large coffee houses, where the work done in Rio is undone, the imitKii cnrtnfl intn <lifforpnt a-rades and | Ks\Jl ICV? UV Uij, OUi IVW ii*vw Q.^ ? various names given it. The lowest grade is called ltio. As a matter of fact some ot the best coffee we get comes from Brazil. i BsaT One does not need to be old to remeinber the school atlas in which to the westward of the twenty four States was mapped ! a big blank expanse across which was printed the legend, "Great American Desertunexplored regions." The United States * government agricultural bureau, reporting /* on the corn crop of the year, which exceeds, / 1,800,000,000 bushels, and is the largest ever / 1 known, tells us that the best yields this year, / \ as in 1883, were found in what has been de-/ 1 signated "the great American desert." Tbr "arid regions" in the vicinity of the oft ^ hundredth meridian produce heavy cror mJFSof high quality.