Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | "Jit Ijnbcpcnbcnf Jfamilu IWuspapcr: jfor tjjr ^promotion of tljc political, Socio!, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of the Soutj). ]terms--$2.50 a yeah, in advance. VOL, 31. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1885. HO. 43. ?he Jdfltg ?cller. THE BEACON FIRE. It was a wild and rocky coast, along which ran the path that led to the home of old Martin Fere. At ordinary times the cottage would have possessed but little attraction for a bold sterling youth like Owen Glenn. But a visitor had of late brightened up its precincts?a young girl named Annie, named after the aged grandmother who dozed by the hearth through the long evenings, content to watch the bright flames as they shot up from the broad fireplace, and perhaps to see visions of the past with her dim eyes. Dame Fere was a sharp voiced, bustling woman, long past middle age, and not having the name of possessing a very sweet temper, but she had a soft place in her heart for granny, and it was to please her that she had invited her pretty namesake to come and visit them for a few months. Annie was a tall, slight girl, as straight as a pine tree, and as graceful as a fawn. Her yellow hair hung in a perfect maze of shining curls all about her shoulders and far down below her waist. Imagine a sweet innocent face lighted with great lustrous dark eyes and a red mouth almost always curving into smiles, and you have some idea of Annie. Most of the young girls in the vicinity were buxom, merry lasses, with hair and eyes to match?both of intense blackness? and more or less of the hoyden in them. Their laughter was loud and hearty, and their ways more frolicsome than refined. So that it is not strange that when this graceful quiet stranger came upon them, with her shy ways and blonde coloring, her swift changes of expression and native ease of manner, she was at once taken into the hearts of all the young people in the neigh Owen Glenn had fallen head over heels in love at his first meeting with Annie, and had not missed an opportuhity of meeting her at the various rustic gatherings to which she had been invited, and to-night he was going to seal his fate by telling Annie that he loved her, and ask if he could hope for a response to the ardent feeling with which he had been inspired by her. Owen was not at all certain as to the success of his suit, for there was another who admired Annie, who was far above him in wordly station and wealth, and as Owen, in his freedom from vanity, also thought, in good looks and in other qualities calculated to win a girl's heart. Annie had received the pleasant little courtesies and attentions of both in a way calculated to wound neither, though, as to that, it would have been an impossibility for her to be other than so sweet and gracious as not to enkindle hope in each passionate young heart. Thus matters stood as Owen started from his home to take the long and tedious walk over the cliffs, which must be traversed before he could reach the cottage which sheltered the object of his love. It had been mining steadily all day long, and as night came on the wind had risen to a gale. But, wrapped in his waterproof cloak and lighted on his way by a lantern, Owen cared nothing for the threatening elements, and walked aloug, whistling softly, now and then pausing to shake himself after the fashion of'some huge water dog. Then he would trudge on again, thinking what a terrible night it must be at sea, and breathing a prayer for the wave-tossed mariners far from home. Suddenly a dull, booming sound reached his ear. It came from a seaward direction, but at first he kept on his way thinking: "This is not the harbor, and every one who has the slightest knowledge of the locality will be sure to avoid such a dangerous coast; so it's no business of mine." Again the sound came. This time Owen stopped and listened. A thought came into his mind as he did so, but it militated so directly against his inclinations to give heed to it that with an impatient "Pshaw!" he started on. But he could not rid himself of it. It was this: "If a ship is in peril, and has lost her way, the only thing that could save her would be a huge beacon fire to cast a light upon her surroundings." To build a fire would be a work of time and of hard labor. To keep one up long enough to do any good would take hours of watchfulness, and he would have to abandon all hope of seeing Annie that evening. It was a hard struggle, but inclination proved to be made of a material which could not hold out against his own strong sense of duty. He ?ave up all thought of the pleasant greetings he had been living upon in his heart all day long, and set himself to work to gather fuei for the beacon fire. After several hurried journeys to the woodland, which lay a little distance away, he succeeded in accumulating a pile of branches and dry twigs, which he had raked out with his hands from a deserted hut, which stood on the confines of the thicket, and had evidently been gathered together for some purpose; but under the circumstances Owen felt himself justified in taking it, as it would have been almost impossible to have kindled a flame of green wood. Just as he had succeeded in coaxing a splendid blaze into life, a voice cried : "Hallo, Glenn, is that you? What in the name of wonder are you doing ?" "I am answering to a signal of distress. Hark !" as a dull sound came again from the sea. "Well, old fellow, I wish you joy of your post, and hope it will do the good you expect. For my part I'm oft" to old Martin's. I hear little Annie is going away to-morrow, and I don't want to miss a sight of her beaming face to-night. It's bright and sweet enough to be a man's beacon light for all his life. Good-bye, and good fortune attend your work. It's lucky all are not such selfisn fellows as I am." It was as if a thousand fiends were tugging for the mastery of Owen Glenn's heart, as he listened to the rattling talk of the gay, light-hearted youth. Should he give Robert this chance of seeing Annie, and of perhaps asking her to be his wife during this very night, while he stood and worked to do good, and in God's providence tried to be the means of saving the lives of people who were nothing to him ? Thus his thoughts ran over and over again, repeating themselves like the voices of mocking demons, while outwardly he labored on as unremittingly as though no influence of the kind were at work, piling on fresh fuel for the flames, or pushing some burning log into a better position, and in that way won the victory. Peace succeeded to the wild storm of agitation which had momentarily threatened to engulf him. Thus the night wore through. With the morning came a great eaim. One would not have thought that the sunflecked waves which came leaping in, whitecrested and tumultuous, to meet the stern barrier of rocks, and crawl up, up almost to their summits, could be aught but playful in their force. Ah! it is a treacherous beauty?that of the sea. Too tired to notice the beauty of the transition from storm to sunshine, Owen walked slowly home. His work was done, and he must have rest. Later in the day he started out for a walk, lie was in that miserable state of mind which oftentimes follows some great exaltation of spirits. The thought that Annie had gone away without his seeing her again weighed upon his mind like an unwelcome incubus. At the voice of Robert Hunter, who stopped to accost him, he shrank and trembled as though in pain, but he listened as intently as tlwugh his life depended upon what he was about to say. Had lie proposed to Annie, and been accepted? "Glenn," he began, "I wish you and I could change places about last night's work." "It's rather late for that now," was the quiet answer. "I'm fully aware of the fact, and that's what 1 regret about it. I'm afraid it's all up with me in a certain direction." "What do you mean ?" asked Owen, with sudden interest. "Why, if you believe it, I might just as well have left my visit unpaid last night; indeed, had far better have done so. Annie was so interested at the chance of there being a ship out-side in distress that it was all I could do to prevail upon her not to face the storm and 'come and help,' she said; and she gave me some pretty rubs, I can tell you, about my leaving you alone to do 'the good work,' as she called it. I don't believe that Annie will look at me again without a thought in her mind of what I ought to have done and didn't." Such a tide of joy rushed through Owen Glenn's heart that he could hardly 9peak, and while he was struggling to hide his emotion Robert went on with his revelations, little realizing the effect of his words: "She's not going home to-day just on that account. She told me to tell you to come, up and see her and tell her all about it. I wish it had been my luck to make such a hit. Women are great on any one who touches their feelings. You ought to have seen her eyes snap and sparkle when she was lecturing me about not staying to help you. 1 never saw her look so pretty. But, hallo! what has come over you?" .For Owen was hurrying off in the direction of the cliffs. As he went Robert caught a look upon his face which told him more than Owen intended. He stood staring at him, thinking to himself: "I see it all. My failure will he Owen's opportunity. Well; he's a good fellow and as long as I can't have her, what odds does it make? And I saw last night she cared no more for me than if I had been a stick." When Annie caught sight of Owen approaching the cottage she ran out with an impulsive, "Oh, how glad 1 am to see you! I do not want to tell you what I think of you." Then she stopped short. Something in Owen's face filled her with confusion. But outstretched hands were already within his clasp, as his low murmured words of love were sounding in her ears: "I am as glad as you that I have done something to please you ; for, oh, Annie, I love you so ueariy inai 1 wouiu uo or uaro anything for your sake." And then, she never knew how it came about, but his arms were about her and his kisses were upon her lips, and she found thatshe loved him so well she was willing to Eromise to be his wife, whenever he should e able to earn enough to make a home for her. They were both young, and it would not be hard to wait, and they were so sure of one another's love. The prospect was at first that several< years must elapse before their marriage, but suddenly all was changed for them as if by magic. A letter came from abroad within a twelve-month. It was addressed to the minister of the littie seaside village, and asked for information as to the person or persons who had kindled a beacon light in answer to a signal of distress from a sailing vessel on the night of ?, giving the correct date and time when Owen had sacrificed inclination to the dictates of duty and humanity. That light had saved a valuable cargo from being lost, and the writer proposed to give a goodly sum to the parties umo had been instrumental in the matter. Also, a medal was to be struck off commemorative of his gratitude that the lives of all on board had been thus preserved to their families. Owen became at once the boast of the village. For when a man's fame has reached foreign countries his own towns-people are always sure to re-echo it. The wedding day was set for the first anniversary of the evening when his good fortune came to him in the guise of disappointment, and Robert Hunter was the first to congratulate the young couple. "Who'd have thought;" he whispered to Owen, "that the tables would have been so turned? Truly, 'There's a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,' and you took it, my boy." ROBERT TOOMBS. Robert Toombs, who is reported as dying i at bis home in Washington, Georgia, was, twenty years ago, one of the most prominent figures in the political arena of the United States. Since his retirement a new generation has sprung into existence and the issues of 1SGU are gradually being forj gotten. The old sores are healing over, j under the kindly influence of time and an era of peace and harmony has taken the I place of the time of war and bloodshed. Robert Toombs, was born in Wilkes county, Georgia, July 2nd, 1810. lie was educated i at the Georgia University and at Union j College, Schenectady, X. Y., graduating j from the latter institution in 1828. In 1820 he was studying law at the University of j Virginia and in every department of study he was regarded as an intellectual prodigy. In 1830, before he had attained his majority, he was, by a special act of the Legislature, I admitted to the bar. lie rose rapidly in his ; profession. In 1830 he took part in the war j against the Creek Indians and upon his reI turn in 1837 was sent to the State Legislature. lie was re-elected in 1842. In 1814 he was sent to Congress, serving in trie j House until 18.3J when he was sent to the : Senate. He was prominent in the agitaj tions on the slavery question during this j period and sided with Henry Clay in the ; adjustment measures of 1804. In 18(H) he ! advocated secession and in 18G1, after Georgia passed the ordinance of secession, rei signed his seat in the Senate. He was a member of the Confederate Congress which met at Montgomery and upon the earnest request of Mr. Davis became Confederate Secretary of State, acting only temporarily, however, until his successor could be ap; pointed. He resigned the position in July, ; 18(31, when Mr. Hunter, of Ya., was appointed to the position. In 1804, upon the in| vasion of Georgia by Sherman, Toombs was j made brigadier-general and placed in command of the State militia. After the close j of the war, he spent several years in Europe, ! returning in 1807. ; #3?" In moments of acute discouragement I console yourself with the reflection that yours is not the first failure upon record, I nor the million-and-first, and that there | will be as many to-morrows as there have been yesterdays. Also, that few failures? it is marvelous how few!?are beyond repair.? Common ?SVv/.\r in the Ifonsrhohi. r~ Miscellaneous |tc?diu{j. I HOW TORNADOES FORM. Lieutenant John I*. Finley, of the Signal! Corps, has been studying the phenomena of tornadoes for the past eight years. Tornadoes are now so well understood that it is ' believed that trustworthy warning can soon ; be sent out to the localities threatened. In fact, experimental predictions have been made for a year, with good result. Accord- j ing to Lieutenant Finley, tornadoes have } distinctly marked characteristic-sand are by j no means to be confounded with hurricanes, I 'blizzards,' cyclones or north-easters. Their 1 tracks are never more than a few hundred yards wide. Their rotary motion, which is greatest toward the centre, sometimes reaches the enormous rate of 2,000 miles an hour, j while their forward movement, always j from southwest to northwest, ordinarily j does not exceed forty or fifty miles. They ; are usually accompanied by electrical dis-1 turbances, and are believed to be uninflu-! enced by electrical conditions, though vio-1 lent thunder storms sometimes follow them I a few miles away. THE HOME OF THE TORNADO. There is a distinct and curious relationship between the tornado and the general storm centre, which is always apparent in their uniform relative positions, the tornado always occurring southeastwardly from j the centre of low baromic pressure and at a distance from one to six hundred miles. The shape of the general storm centre, the direction in which its lowest barometer lies, and the appearance of the upper and lower clouds enter as minor elements into the problem out of which the weather experts j hope to work a complete system of tornado | .warnings. The visits of "the tornado are 1 commonly between the hours of two and j six o'clock in the afternoon. Its home is an j area which includes the whole of Iowa, all j of Missouri except the southeastern corner, ; the northwestern corner of Arkansas, the I northeastern part of the Indian Territory, Eastern Kansas, Eastern Nebraska, South- j ern Minnesota, Southern Wisconsin and j Western Illinois. Here its season extends | from April to August inclusive. It is also a j frequent visitor to two other regions. These j ( are, first, a strip along the gulf and South j < Atlantic coasts, whicn takes in the centralj: portions of Alabama, Georgia and South ! { Carolina, with termini in Mississippi and < North Carolina, over which its devastations , are confined to the months of January, Feb- j ruary and March. The second includes a portion of Southern and Central Ohio, a large portion of Pennsylvania, a small i < area in Maryland, a strip across New York j, and a corner of each of Massachusetts and IJ Connecticut, where it is in season only du- j j ring August and September. HOW THE TORNADO FORMS. ! \ l'fte conditions wnicn are iavoraoie to me , creation of tornadoes are present when a f cool, drycurrentof air meets a warm, moist \ current, bringing wide extremes, both of temperature and humidity, into close prox- < imity. The cool, dry currents come from i the north, but such as flow over the Great \ Lakes pick up in theircourse both moisture < and heat and their destructive forces are 1 thus neutralized. Those blowing from the ] far Northwest, down over the dry plains of ( Manitoba and Dakota, carry something of ] their Arctic characteristics far South, and if 1 in their course they meet one of the heat < and vapor-laden breezes coming up from the | | Gulf the war of the elements begins at the : i point of contact. The storm always has its j birth in the upper air, its first visible mani- | festation being the ominous funnel-shaped i cloud, whose pendant trunk is in form not I f unlike that of an elephant. Within it the j < furies are confined, and when and where its | < point touches the earth the path of destruction begins. When the isotherm of the 1 morning signal map shows the advancing ] columns of air, with their wide contrasts of i temperature, in proximity; when thegen-j< eral storm centre is in that relative position ' \ which seems necessary to the exercise of its < mysterious influence; when the pressure is i low toward the east, disclosing a vacuum into which the deflected currents may ad- 1 vanee without obstructien?when all these < conditions combine it should become but a f simple problem for the experts to determine, ) with reasonable probability, from the wind l velocities whether the threatening line of i< contact will have advanced to or beyond the ! ( tornado's accustomed haunts by the time of I i day when the powers of mischief shall be h loosed. j f THE IXKXOWX (JUAXTITIES. jt The chief remaining unknown quantities j ( in the problem consist of data of time and : i place, a great store of which is already in I i iiand and only awaits digestion and tabula- j I tion, while 1,501) special tornado observers j ( are gathering additional facts respecting cur-1 ( rent storms, and from all available sources | $ the stories of long past tornadoes, known to j i the earlier settlersas windfalls. Thus while j lt a host of interesting scientific questions re- j t speeding the origin of tornadoes, the laws 1 which govern them and their relationship f to other meteorological phenomena, remain J to be answered, the more practical questions j t as to when and where they are likely to ap- t pear seem to be advancing rapidly toward j i solution. ; i The interests which are subject to disaster : i from tornadoes are alive to the importance : ( of the work in progress. Intending pur-, j chasers of farms apply to the.signal office for < information respecting the liability of their ; 1 selected locality to disaster. To such are < sent the records of the past as far as they are known. Whenever Lieutenant Fin ley trav- i els in pursuit of his studies farmers and vil- , lagers press for information. To these he says that nothing raised by the hand of man above the surface of the earth can withstand i the shock of the tornado. Me advises them i < to seek their dug-outs on the appearance of 11 the portentous signs of disaster and there | < await the passage of the storm. For their !. property he advises insurance, so that the < losses of the individual may be shared by * his fortunate neighbors. ' < i t Lakittk.?The last of the buccanneers | was the celebrated Lafitte, who for many j I years carried on his illicit tratlic in defiance j i of the government. His crew of smugglers ! I and pirates occupied the Bay of Barataria, ' I where they had fortified an island. A price ' < was set upon his head, but it is said that he j , was frequently seen in New Orleans, and I s had friends and even a banker, who receiv- < ed him and his ill-gotten gains "under the ! I rose." There are so many lakes and bayous j ( j along the coast of Louisiana and Mississipj pi that the light, swift crafts of the pirates " i could always elude pursuit and slip away in 1 some inlet or behind an island when they < i : found an enemy on their track. All the < Spanish fishermen, wlio were inimical to I the Fnited States, were in their pay, and ' j gave notice by private signals where there ] was danger to be apprehended, and so they \ enjoyed comparative immunity from the 1 consequences of their misdeeds. This dar- < 1 ing robber deserves our praise for his pa- ( I triotism, however, for when the English 1 I came to attack New Orleans, in 181"), Sir 1 ! Edward Pakenham, the commander of their 1 ! forces, offered Lafitte a big reward if he ] ! would assist his army by showing them the | ] 1 to tho pitv which none knew so well . t i - ? . as this skilful pilot. Hut Lafitte refused his ; i bribe and sent word to (Jeneral Jackson < that if he would insure him and his men a i free pardon for past offences they would c come up and help him defend the city. As j s they were known to have hold hearts, and ] to be skilled artillerists, Governor t'laborne t willingly granted this request, and so I^a- { fitte, his men and his guns arrived and did good service in the day of our necessity. ( It is not known where Lafitte died, but i Domingo, his lieutenant, lies in the old St. i Louis cemetery which is situated between 1 Conti and St. Louis streets, with this extra- 1 ordinary epitaph upon his tomb: li>Sans \ Pair, et Sam Jieproche." The first part of ( the quotation might doubtless have been ( truly applied to him, hut the latter portion t of the sentence is such a comical sarcasm 1 that if it were put there by an enemy it is 1 positively a cruel satire, if in good laith by i THE OUTRAGE MIL! The Great Republican Bugaboo.?A perron 3hio election.?The great issue of the Republican iated, and John Sherman turns the crank. i friend, it must have caused the dust of the 11 Chevalier Bayard, of whom these words! < were first spoken, to stir with indignation j] ;n his grave. 11 The Largest Land Animal in the'] World.?Since the death of Jumbo various j jtatements have been published as to the i 1 ixact stature of that giant elephant. The j figures range from eleven feet to eleven feet | ind a half, but whether the height given is 11 that at the shoulder does not appear. If 1 Jumbo was eleven feet and six inches high ' i it the shoulder there is reason to believe I i that he wasthe largestanimal in the world, j f The size of the elephant is commonly i overestimated. Their stature is almost al- i ivays exaggerated in those countries where ! they are found wild. Even European trav- i olers of scientific training have made nota- i Die mistakes in this respect. African ele- ! phants which Major Denham, one of the ?arly explorers, supposed to be sixteen feet high proved to be less than ten feet when < killed. In Ceylon the native elephant, which was formerly thought to be larger i than the African animal, is rarely taller i :han nine feet; and Sir Emmerson Tennent, < in his celebrated work on the natural history of that island, says that in the district where the hunters agree that the largest specimens are to be found, "the tallest of i ordinary herds do not average more than ' fight feet." In India the same tendency to exagera-1: tion prevails. Dr. Falconer was authority for the statement by Prof. Ansted more i than a quarter of a century ago, that out of I fieven hundred elephants from which the j tallest were selected and measured with | lare, on one occasion in India, there was ; not one whose height equalled eleven feet. < At the present day probably no one is i letter qualified to speak with reference to he size of Indian elephants than Mr. (1. P. Sanderson, the officer in charge of the eleihant-catching establishment maintained iy the British government at Mysore, lie < loes not believe there is an elephant in Inlia ten feet high at the shoulder. lie has i measured a great many, and the tallest was : line feet and ten inches. "The next largest 1 ire two tuskers belonging to his highness j he Maharajah of Mysore, each nine feet f fight inches, captured'in Mysore some forty i /ears ago and still alive." Mr. Sanderson, n his very interesting work on the wild i leasts of India, says that twice around an I fiephant's foot is his height within an inch < ir two. Generally this measurement will < rive the exact stature, but when persons i mfamiliar with elephants are asked to I juess how many times the circumference of 1 he foot must be multiplied to ascertain i iow tall the animal is, they say from ten to < iiteen times. Not only may we reasonably conclude ] hat Jumbo was the largest land animal in he world, or, at all events, without any sujerlor in size, but it is safe to say that a nuch larger walking beast could not be nade out of flesh and bones. This is me hanically demonstrable. In order to support a heavier creature, the size of the legs jven with practically solid bones, would lave to be so increased as to render pro- ' jression impossible. I These considerations indicate that we shall 1 lever see a larger land animal than Jumbo. < Xcw York Sim. 1 The Hoy tiiat Was Bukiki>.?a Mad- < -id (Spain) lettertellsthisstory of the cholera i ipidemie: In Ulea, Murcia, there was at- ] lacked a man of over middle age, the father )f a family, and also his boy, aged 11, called i lose Gomez. The father died, and a few ' lays after, at (Jin the afternoon, the boy died I ilso, and was carried immediately to the i hurchyard, at the same time when the jravedigger was finishing his day's toil. ] He viewed the last arrival, but although :he grave was almost tilled up he threw i in the dead body and went away. Upon i :he next morning, as he opened the ceme- ] tery gate, the first thing he saw was Jose : jiomez, almost naked, just as he was buried, i imusing himself. "Ilullo!" exclaimed the astonished gravedigger, "who took you out )f that?" "Nobody," replied the l)oy cheerfully, "I a came out myself." "Bueno i igood); come here, I wish to speak to you." i K1 chico (the little one), believing that he < was to be treated to another burial, began i to run, and did not stop until he reached his I mother's cottage, whom he frightened out 1 >f her wits, as she believed he had come 1 from the other world. "Where is your < lather?" was the first question put by the ] poor woman. "Oh he stayed there; hut i *ive me something to eat, mother, for I am < i-nrv luincrrv " The mother broke out into i ;ries and lamentations, and the neighbors i rowded in and tried to surround the chieo, ' ivho fled and endeavored to hide himself, jelieving firmly those attempts were premonitory of another funeral. In the end :ie was caught and put to bed, all the time protesting that his one malady was hunger. >o the gave him his breakfast, and now he is the pride of the village as he runs about stoning dogs, which, it seems, was his favorite recreation before he was attacked by holera. The final touch in the story is a striking instance of the truth of what the ioet sang: "They change their sky, not heir dispositions, who go across the seas." > ? - The Betrayer ok Gen. John Morjan.?The Atlanta Constitution gives the 'ollowing account of the recent life of the .voman who betrayed the great Confederate aider to his death while he was a guest in icr hushand's home: "The death of Gen. John Morgan was ompassed by the treachery and demoniac hiring of a wild, reckless woman. She was :he graceless daughter-in-law of Mrs. Col. Williams, who was the cheerful hostess of ;he great cavalryman on that ill-starred light. Lucy Williams rode her horse L CARRIED OHIO. 1 ial Production brought into requisition in the party is that the Negro of the South is intimithrough the stormy darkness and summonsd the Federals from Bull's Gap to surprise Morgan and capture or kill him. The history of the deed is too familiar to need repetition. The wanton and cold-blooded heroine of the exploit was afterwards di- ^ vorced from her worthy husband and fled ^ the country with a married man of Green- ville by the name of Fitzgerald. They ' went to Arkansas and lived, I believe as * 3o-partners in adultery at Helena. Some ; Hmo arm shp a hnnrlonprl TTityfrprn bl nrtrl . married a man of some means who was t then a widower of three months standing. J In a few months after the marriage with * the ex-Mrs. Williams, the new husband s also died, and she has disappeared with the ! lucre of which he was possessed. Fitzgerald, thus thrown overboard and being afflicted with a fatal malady, wrote to his 1 long abandoned wife and family, confess- j ing all his misdeeds, and begging to be allowed to return home to die among his ( children. The request was granted him, ' but did not profit him in his misery, for he ' died before he could reach home, and with- ' out seeing the face of his wronged wife and children. * The Caroline Islands.?These islands \ now in discussion between Spain and Prus- ' sia are a remarkable group of coral formations in the Northern Pacific. They are, perhaps of no great strategic importance, 1 since they lie on the road to nowhere in par- ! ticular; but from the point of view of the ! archieologist they are interesting in the extreme. Certain Dutch navigators, who visited them nearly a generation ago, returned ! to Europe with wonderful stories concerning the gigantic ruins that had been discovered * on some of the smaller islets at the eastern * end of the archipelago; but it was not until ' 188:1 that anything approaching a systemat- J ic survey of the group was undertaken. In that year her majesty's ship, Espiegle, \ touched at many of the islands, and those ' officers who went ashore found that the magnificence of the remains had not been [ exaggerated. The most imposing ruins are J at Metlanim harbor, in Panope, and at C'ha- * broi harbor, in Kusai; and an idea of their J grandeur may be formed from the fact that * some of the stones of the buildings measure 1 is much as :l.*i feet long by 20 feet broad and \ 15 feet thick. They are ornamented with rude sculptures, which bear a family resemblance to the well-known sculptures of Easter islands, in the southern Pacific; yet East- 1 it islands and the Carolines are fully 0,000 ( miles apart, and, so far as is discoverable, 1 there has never been any communication J between them. The object and origin of the monuments are unknown. The Caroline | jroup, which was discovered by Spain in : ir>20, has hitherto, even by German geograr*l..... I.ftni, o.J .i WnaniuK nnccac. ^ [JlUJlSt, I/ceil lUgtllUUU no <b U|JUUlou ^\/cuv.o don ; although for years there have been no ' Spanish residents on any of the islands. The ?xtent of the land surface of the group is rather more than 800 square miles, and the estimated population is about 28,000 souls, ill of whom are of the Malay race. s . s Anecdotes of Two Famous Painters, f Xeuxis, a famous Greek artist of ancient \ times, painted so naturally a dish of grapes held by a boy, that birds Hew down to the t canvas and pecked the fruit. But, while ( his friends regarded the act as the best com- J plimentever paid to an artist Xeuxissigh- j ' ?d, exclaiming, "Had I painted the boy as true to nature as the grapes, the birds would have been afraid to touch them!" A It is of Xeuxis and a rival Greek that a * more familiar anecdote is handed down. j The rival was Parrhasius. In the contest ' between them, Xeuxis painted his favorite ( subject, grapes. At the exhibition of the ( pictures, down came the birds again, and 1 Hew at the grapes as if to eat them. "Now," 1 said Xeuxis, triumphantly, "draw aside ?r that curtain and show your picture." His \ rival smiled, for the curtain itself was the ^ picture, painted upon a board to represent ( real drapery. The generous Xeuxis yielded the palm at once, saying, "I deceive birds; * you, an artist." " 1 The First Letter.?Who wrote the J first letter and what burning message did j . it contain? Surely some pressed secret or ' compelling motive forced its expression in 1 that epistle?something more than the pic- I tures and symbols of Fgypt could conveyor the flowers of Persia reveal! We search his- * tory in vain lor the event or the moment j 1 when the world was enriched by the gift of * letter writing. The brain that conceived 8 the happy thought of personal correspond-1 { ?nce, and" the heart.that first comforted itself! } in its delights, have left no record of achieve-1 1 ment. The first epistle of historic mention j was sent from the Samaritans to Antiochus, | 8 in which they asked in stately but impor-! j amate terms, to be permitted to follow the j ' .......... .. I' il. /. nnil /.nil ! 1 Ui tilt: uiuci\3 illiu uui ivhijmu i Mt. (ferizim the Temple of Jupiter Hellen- N us. Hut this, like :ill correspondence of incient history, related only to public mat- j r :ers. Before that date all communications ? iVe re committed to messengers and heralded. s - t Women's Work.?Women are rapidly 1 lushing their way into the departments ^ lithorto monopolized by men ; they are be- j oming painters, doctors, lawyers, salcswo- i nen, agents, shopkeepers, preachers, post- o nasters, or postmistresses, and yet there is c nit a small portion of the masculine domain ji vhich they have entered on. That of music, t specially instrumental music, apart from c he piano and harp, is yet held wholly by h lie men despite the fact that women from o heir superior sensibilities and their acuter a irt instincts are better adapted to fill the a dace. Women should manipulate all the fi stringed instruments so as to secure thehigh>st possible results, and they should at once o ivail themselves of the opportunity.?Chi- i <i(/n Time*. e ' GO SLOW." 1 "Man's a vapor, full of woes, Ife cuts a caper, and down lie goes." Well, we are taught that there is a time , or all things, except acting the fool. There . s no time given a man to act the fool. ] [ere j I will try to tell my experience in one case. , [ made a hold start, and did not have far to ^ ?o, and I acted the fool tolerably well for , several months. J was seventeen years old, , six feet high, weighed one hundred and fifty iounds, somewhat slabsided, and looked nore like a man than anything that ever , ,vas seen, not to he a man. I saw a great J nany wearing fine clothes, boots and fine lats, chewing tobacco and smoking cigars. ( fliey appeared to be very smart and popuar with the ladies, so I thought that constiutecl a perfect gentleman, and I determin- ! id to go into the current onashion ana pop- ( llarity. I went to work and made a bale of :otton, sold it, and off I went to a dry goods ( .tore and bought a suit of fine clothes, a big jell-crowned bee gum hat, gloves, riding switch, boots, a box of paper collars, hair grease, cigars, umbrella, and a vial of musk ;o make me smell sweet. I had my hair shingled, and I had taken a kind of second jrowth. My upper lip had produced a ;hick coat of hair, called moustache. I spent , i good deal of my time rubbing my mous- i :ache with the end of my fingers, and on J me of my fingers I stuck a big brass ring. ( Sow I thought I was rigged up a perfect , gentleman. Poor fool, ignorant of pride \ md fashion being a contagious disease, and [ was almost on the lift with it and not : iware of it. The same disease is still ra- i ?ing, but I found a cure for it. I rode a tall , lorse, and frequently the brush would rake ny hat off. It would hit the ground, bounce iround and roll like an empty churn. All , 'ight as I was in the fashion. I would rig \ ip of a Sunday, stand in the sunshine and . ook at my shadow, set one foot out, make a , rack, and look what a nice track my boot ] vould make. I imagined myself a perfect \ >eauty, and imagined that if I could get to , ub my back against a college wall and take , t trip out west, I would be capable of hold- j ng any office in the government. I would . ig up and go to singing-school, walk in the \ louse, and my boots would squeak like the , usty hinges of a barn door. Sometimes I ( vould walk so straight that I would lean ( >ver, and I would try to walk the Grecian ( valk, and carry my umbrella over me in , mnshine and shade. All right, as I was in ' he fashion. 1 would seat myself in singing j ichool, cross my feet and rub my moustache . vith the finger that had the ring on. I vould try to walk, talk and laugh, like { iome other fool that I thought was acting j .mart. I would carry a cigar to church and , ?et one end of it afire, stick the other end in j ny mouth, and stand where I could be seen, , md hold the cigar with the hand that had J ;he ring on ; so there was a cigar with some , Ire on one end and a fool on the other end. | 5o I trolloped around for several months j ust in that fix, a poorsimpleton. I had not , ;hought of a blow-up, or stove-up, or explo- , .ion, so one Sunday morning in August, I iggtru ujj nuu rtcuuu iiuuui. incviiuiuiiouse was a new pine log cabin, the doorlead very low. 80 on I went, Jehu-like, ode up and alighted, walked up with an ( dastic step, made a spring in the door, and ( she top of my beegum just plumbed the loor-head and drove it down to my shoulders. I had one foot in the house. I just pulled that kind foot back and staggered around the corner of the house, and began to feel for my head. I was considerably stunned, and in the dark. I took hold of the brim of my hat on each side with my hands, and began pushing up with all my strength, and setting back determined to pull out, for I was in a fix and something had to be done quick. Directly I began to emerge from darkness to light, and with all inyjstrength and awkwardness, I succeeded in pulling out without help. The leather lining of my hat pulled out, and it resembled a churn with the brim around the midJle. My ears and nose burned as if they had been scalded; perspiration flowed in jreat drops, and in the scufHe I staggered igainst the pine wall, and got pine rosin all n*er my fine coat. It was stuck up, stuck lown, and twisted and bungled about, so that it resembled some dressing that we see low-a-days. I came near suffocating, and J vhen I got a good long breath, I turned ' ibout, walked slowly to my horse, and ( ;rawled upon the outside of him and rode ; slowly home, and was glad I had a home to ' ?oto. By the time I got home, I had quiited down and began to come to my proper senses, and when I considered the matter , ill over, I found that the stove-up was a , lood lesson to me, though a very costly one. r ?-' 1 A. 1 A!? 1 .. ~C 1 l was enngiueneu on me iuny ui |/nuc mm ash ion. I could see plain whata fool I had peen. I went to the Jooking-glassand took ' i good look at myself, and I was as much ; lisgusted as I had been delighted. I took J ny knife and cut my hat in two in the midlie, and slipped the upper half down over he lower half and made a tolerably respectible hat, and I have been careful ever since j ogo slow, and take my hat off when I come ( ;o a church door. Perhaps if we had a low ( hurch door in this country some young ] ncn or big boys might learn a good lesson ( is I did. Experience teaches a dear school, ( )ut fools will not learn in any other. j ] Texas Rivers.?The Texas river isan in- i ititution that is peculiarly Texan. In the j iouthern portion of the State many of the < i vers and streams manage to get along dur- j ng the summer with very little water. < S'ear El Paso it has frequently occurred \ hat the natives have had to dig wells in the i lry bed of the Rio Grande, in order to get < Irinking water. For many miles the river , jed was as dry as two volumes of the Con- < tressional Record. ] The writer has crossed the Nueces river , .vithout knowing it. The dust was so thick ] hat he did not perceive that the road cross?d the dry bed of the river. About two j lours after I crossed the Nueces river with- . )ut knowing it, a tidal wave six feet high i ame rolling down the river bed. Six hours ifterward the river had risen thirty feet, . ind before twenty-four hours had passed iway. The ri ver i 11 some places was upward . >f three miles wide, aud at the place where ( [ stirred up the dust the raging waters were < leep enough to float the Great Eastern. < The Cibolo is a creek, between Austin and Vntonio, that for many miles runs al- , nost entirely under ground. It consists of i succession of pools. The water sinks out j )f sight, and reappears a mile or so distant, j. rhe banks of Cibolo are quite steep, and < n some places are forty or fifty feet, which i mikes it very difficult for wagons to cross, < particularly in wet westther. The San Antonio, Comal, San Marcos, < iaudaloupe, Rrazos and Sabine rivers do j lot become actually dry, but in summer hey dwindle away to almost nothing. The ] statement that the water gets so low that he catfish have to stand on their heads and j an themselves with their tails to keep cool t .. . UAcl^UI illCU il ill in . The habit the Texas rivers have of rising i ixty feet in twenty-four hours makes the <. )uilcling of railroads very expensive in < Texas. The bridges over the apparently : nost insignificant streams have to be made r rery high, and of the most durable material, g When a stranger sees an immense bridge 11 iver a small stream, he is inclined to sug-! \ ;est that the people sell the bridge and buy I ome water to be put in the creek, but after : t here has been a rise it will be more approbate to sell some water to buy a new ridge.?Texas Sifting*. t Imaginary Western Dangers.?The 1 pinion has often been expressed that one I ould walk with greater safety through the i angles and forests of Africa than through r he streets of London into which a stranger s ould not go without risking his life. The f ow quarters, the vile dens, and dark alleys 1 f a large city are often filled with thieves t nd murderers and it would fare ill with c ny*unarmed and belated stranger to be t ound in such quarters at night. a The danger is from men, but in the forest t f a wild country there are few human be- \ ngs, and the danger from beasts of prey is 1 xccedingly small. This brings to mind f that many people in the east forget this difference when coming to the Kocky mountains. Often some tenderfoot who has heard much of the imaginary dangers of the west will come to the mountains with a 22-calibre revolver, and feeling convinced that he is prepared to put all the highwaymen in the west to flight. He is ignorant that the dangers he looks for are imaginary, and if they come he will be utterly incompetent to cope with them. In the mountains of this State there is less danger than in the cities of New York iand Chicago. A man can travel through Colorado wholy unarmed and never meet with an enemy nor encounter the slightest danger from man or beast. He can lie down upon the mountain sides in peace and sleep in perfect safety, or he can stop at some ranchman's cabin and receive a cordial welwmp Rnrolv dnp? it, neeiir that ft murder is committed in this State where the murderer lies in wait for the victim. The homicides of Colorado are usually committed in bar-rooms and the victims are generally frequenters of such places. But it will be a long time before the people of the east learn that these things are true. As they will continue to believe in Massachusetts that the Indians are dancing scalp dances on the streets of Kansas City, so the people of St. Loui9, Chicago and Cincinnati will for years to come think that desperadoes are met at every turn in Colorado, and that every canon conceals a band of robbers. What the citizens of Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri condemn in New England with reference to their States, they are themselves guilty of with reference to the Rocky mountains.?Denver Tribune. A Terrible WARXixa.r-The German spelling- for "beer" is "bier." The English equivalent for "bier" is "coffin." The step from beer to the grave is very short. For some years a decided inclination has been apparent all over the country to give up the jse of whisky and other strong alcohols, using as a substitute beer and other compounds. This is evidently founded on the idea that beer is not harmful, and contains a large amount of nutriment; also that Differs may have some medical quality ivhich will neutralize the alcohol which it conceals, etc. These theories are without confirmation in the observation of physicians. The use of beer is found to produce i species of degeneration of all the organs; profound and deceptive fatty deposits, diminished circulation, conditions of congestion and perversion of functional activities, local inflammations of both the liver and kidneys, are constantly present. Intellectually, a stupor amounting almost to paralysis arrests the reason, changing all the higher faculties into a mere animalism, sensual, selfish, sluggish, varied only with paroxysms of anger that are senseless and ?>rutal. In appearance the beer drinker may be the picture of health, but in reality he is most incapable of resisting disease. A slight injury, a severe cold, or a shock to tne Douy or inina, win conimouiy pruvoke an acute disease ending fatally. Compared with inebriates who use different kinds of alcohol he is more incurable and more generally diseased. The constant use of beer every day gives the system no recuperation, but steadily lowers the vital forces.?Scientific American. Blacksmiths' Hammer Signals.?1The force of the blows given by the blacksmith's hammer indicates the force of the blow it is required to give the sledge. When the blacksmith gives the anvil quick, light blows it is a signal to the helper to use the sledge or to strike quicker. The blacksmith's helper is supposed to strike the work in the middle of the width of the anvil, and when this requires to be varied the blacksmith indicates where the sledge blows are to fall by touching the required spot with his hand-hammer. If the sledge is required to have a lateral motion while descending the blacksmith indicates the same to the helper by delivering hand-hammer blows in which the handhammer moves in the direction required for the sledge to move. If the blacksmith delivers a heavy blow upon the work and an intermediate light blow on the anvil it denotes that heavy sledge blows are required. If there are two or more helpers the blacksmith strikes a blow between each helper's sledge hammer blow, the object being to merely denote where the sledge blows are to fall. When the blacksmith desires the sledge blows to cease he lets the hand-hammer bead fall upon the anvil and continues its rebound opon the same until it ceases. Thus the movements of the hand-hammer constitute signals to the helper, and what ippear desultory blows to the common observer constitute the method of communication between the blacksmith and his helper.?Blacksmith and Wheelwright. The Invention of Ink.?When ink was introduced does not seem to have been decided, but given the paper and the pen, a colored medium which would show on a iight surface was so obvious a want, and one so readily found, that there is no extraordinary credit due to the unknown inven:or. It appears to be only of comparatively late years that black ink has been almost oniversal. ltoraan ink was red, purple and mhi nml ink-<j nf hlnp. preen, violet and ?V1V41 "wv* """ w* ? O 1 # )ther shades were not uncommon. It is said / ffiat simple as is the combination ol ink, "we possess none equal in beauty to that jsed by the ancients; the Saxon manuscripts written in England exceed in color anything Df the kind." Modern ink-makers will deny the superiority of the ancients ; but who shall say whether words written in the ink manufactured to-day shall stand as vividly centuries hence as those Saxou manuscripts have stood? It is difficult to see how the writing materials of the present day can be improved upon, for convenience at least, setting aside questionsof lasting inks, which the generation that uses them cannot settle. Paper, rough and smooth, fluent inks of any color that the writer may believe suitable to his eyes, pens as fine as a needle or as blunt as a spade, are all to be bought on svery street. The great lack of the age seems to be ideas at once more novel and sensible in the record of which these serviceable materials maybe employed.?Lonion Standard. Schools and Press qp Mexico.?It is a lamentable fact that but a small portion jf Mexican people are able to read and write. The total number of illiterate persons is not definitely known, there being no accurate census returns to which reference . an be made. The most reliable estimate :hat can be arrived at places the number at r,00(1,ooo, or fully two-thirds of the entire population. It is safe to say that of all the daily papers published in the City of Mexico no one )f them has a circulation of 500 copies outside of the city of publication, while it is nore than probable that the combined outiide circulation of all the dailies will not :xceed that number. I have been in a Mexican city of 12,000 inhabitants, where tot a single copy of a daily newspaper was iubscribed for by the entire native populaion, and where not fifty newspapers of any und were received at the post-office, those iddressed to residents and visitors of foreign firth.?Indianapolis Times. What Makes Complexion.?A pigment mder the epidermus makes the complexion, fhe colored person has a black pigment, the irunette a light brown pigment, and the fiondastill lighter pigment. When there s no pigment in the skin, an Albino is the esult, with pink eyes, white hair, and white kin. When there is an excess of pigment, reckles, moles and birth-marks appear. reckles are not alone clue 10 me action 01 he sun. Some people have them in abunlance on the parts of the body not exposed o the sun. The hairs are hollow tubes, ind have a supply of pigment sent into hem which determine the color of the hair, rhe pigment comes from the blood. White lair may be from absence of pigment or mm the presence of air in the tubes.