University of South Carolina Libraries
*????, r rj?A-M^w i - ?inn - MMjaaEQM?1H m"" LMUIMEBMIinM^TIfrrri I llfHIHI I mill I I III llllTm lewis m. grist, proprietor, j % Jitkpbent ^arnilj ftctosppcr: Jfor t|c |)roniofioit of % political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|c Sootjj. jTERJis--$2.50 a year, is advance, "VOL. 32 YORKVILLE, S C. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 16, 1886. NO. 24. (Ngittal fflfttg. Written fur the Yorkville Enquirer. A SO\G. 11y lacon. Bright and beautiful as a rose When first it opes to greet the sun, And a rich fragrance round it throws, Free, like the air, for every one ; Buoyant, innocent, hopeful and free, And cheerful as an uncaged bird, She ever dotli appear to ine Where'er she goes, is seen or heard. Refrain?Little charming Aristeene Is ever cheerful and full of glee? Full of glee and ever cheerful, So that she seems to me Almost divine ! There is wisdom in what she says, And her acts are ever full of love, Throwing a charm o'er all her ways Wherever she may chance to move. Her voice is the soul of melody That charmeth all who hear her speak, To the highest pitch of ecstaey, So nearer to her would all men keep. Refrain. A purer being never lived, Or cemore perfect in her ways, She never sulks, nor has she grieved, But she is always full of praise. There's none, I'm sure, surpasses her In her manners, her form or dress, And from her heart she would confer Good upon all, and all would bless. Ibc Jtoig idiet. KATHLEEN. The blue waters of the Shepscot rippled and flashed in the August sunshine as it swept on, winding in and out among the scattered islands till it reached the broader expanse beyond. On one of these islands and hardly more than a stone's throw from the river, stood an old square house. It faced the water and looked toward the landing at the farther end of the island and over to the green, wooded island across the river, where no work of man's hand as yet broke in nn itc wild hpfuitv. The old house had been thought a handsome mansion in its day. That was more than a hundred years ago, but it was good still, for its oaken timbers had so far defied the "tooth of time," and its capacious chimneys still gave one a glimpse of the sky if he chanced to look up. The square "forerooin" at the left of the ' front entrance yet gave some hint of its oldtime splendor; a cornice not altogether devoid of artistic finish ran around the ceiling, and the dull blue paint of its wood work was yet in a good state of preservation. The room opposite this was in more com0 . mon use, but the long kitchen opening from both was the usual winter living room of .% ..<; > the family. On this August afternoon a light breeze, carrying with it the breath of the old-fashioned flowers outside, came in through the open door-way at one end, swept across the kitchen to the little bedroom at the other end, and through the open window, wandered off over the fish-lakes * that stretched down the slope to the fish and boat houses near the water. jsue as me aiternoon wore on, the sky darkened, distant thunders sounded warningly now and then, till with the twilight the breeze, grown toa sudden gale, dashed the large rain drops against the windows of the old house which Mrs. Marlow was hurrying to close. "Wall, I declare, father," she said, coming down stairs quite out of breath, "how it does rain! Who'd thought it when 'twas so pleasant this afternoon ?" Captain Marlow rubbed the bald spot on his head reflectively as he returned, "Does pour, that's a factthen he added, "I wonder if Eben got his hay in. There he is now!" he exclaimed, a few minutes later, as a rumbling sound was heard between the peals of thurder. "He's just comin' over the big rock. Sho! he must be as wet as a drowned rat, and his hay, too !" Eben represented the Marlow's nearest neighbor, whose house was but a few rods trom theirs. A little later a blinding flash accompanied by a crash of thunder heavier than any preceding, caused Mrs. Marlow to start up from her chair. "Mercy," she exclaimed, "I pity any poor creature that has to be out in this." The woman's benevolent face grew grave and she sat silent. Her thoughts had gone to her boy, boy he was still to her, though the bearded captain of the Highflyer had long since outgrown the name from others. He was beyond the reach of this storm, but whatever else might '""i Imfnllfln him Vl'fir* Pmilfl tpll "? iiavu uviaiivu iiitta ?? ?*v vvm.v. ?v.. "Yes," said Captain Marlow, in response to his wife's remarks, "I dunno when we've had such a storm since the time Cap'n Jim's barn was struck, eight?ten?yes, ten years ago this very month ; you recollect it, don't you ?" "To be sure I do." ' The storm continued with little abatement. Just as one peal of thunder died away an indistinct sound reached the ears of the two people in the long kitchen. They regarded each other questioningly for a moment, then there was a rattle of the door latch. Some one outside was groping for it in the darkness. The man started up, and going to the door, threw it wide open to the storm, but he stepped back as he did so, for there on the door-stone stood a figure strange to him. The next moment his hospitality overcame every other feeling, and reaching out, he said, "Whoever ye are come in." Mrs. Marlow was by his side and gazing ?in amazement at the slight, white-robed figure. It was a young girl they had never seen before. There was a frightened, appealing look in the brown eyes. The wind and rain had beaten upon her head tiil the dark, curling hair was drenched and clinging about her neck. Mrs. Marlow's motherly arrnsstreched out instinctively. "Poor child!" she said, drawing her into the room; "why, father; she is wet through and through.'It was quite true; the water dripped from the dainty, white dressand made little pools upon the floor. She wore no wrap of any kind. As yet she had not spoken, but stood looking wonderingly about the room. "Where did you come from? Are you j alone?" Mrs. Marlow asked, and the girl answered with a shudder, "Yes, I'm alone." "Dear, dear, poor child ! Let me get you , something warm." Captain Marlow set about making a tire in the cook stove while his wife took the stranger into the little bedroom. "You're all beat out," the good woman said pityingly, "you'd better go right to bed." The girl made no remonstrance, but submitted quite passively to whatever was proposed. She took the warm drinks Mrs. Marlow brought her, and when the woman went back to the kitchen, she said. "I declare, father, the poor thing's completely beat . out; she's asleep already." "Sho!" was the response. "Who is she, do you think ?" The storm was forgotten while the good people talked over the strange young creature who had sounexpectedlycometothem. Some half an hour later the woman went in to see that she was still sleeping, but when she came back there was a troubled look on her face. "She's asleep yet," she said, "but she's restless, and her head and hands are as hot as fire." She stayed with her through the night, and early the next morning the captain unmoored his boat and started off down the river for the nearest doctor. Anxious days followed, while the stranger tossed in the delirium of fever, and Mrs. Mariow cared for her as tenderly as if she had been her own. "Poor child," she said tears coming into her eyes as she spoke, "it makes my heart ache to think she is away from all she loves." j There was no clue to the girl's lormer me, no one on the island knew anything about her, and all inquiries otherwise brought no knowledge. Mrs. Marlow searched the girl's clothing, but only one word was found, and one day she slipped a ring off from the wasted hand and looked from some inscription ; there was only the word she had found before, the name Kathleen. The sufferer spoke often, but though Mrs. Marlow strove to catch'any words that might lead to a discovery of who she was, there was but little that was intelligible. Sometimes she seemed to be wandering through some wood, and said that the pine needles made a soft carpet; at others she fancied herself on the water, and would say she was so tired rowing against the stream. Once or twice she spoke the name of Everett, but that was all. "Poor child!" sighed the good woman, "When she gets well she will tell us, and we will take her home." But there were days when it seemed that there was little reason to expect her recover yet the crisis passed and she still lived. Very white and weak she was, her brown eyes looking unnaturally large, then a faint color came into the face that grew rounder every day. Mrs. Marlow forbore asking any questions as yet, though she wondered a little that Kathleen asked her none, but she was growing stronger; she would speak by and by. Yes, she was growing stronger, still the doctor looked grave and continued his visits after she was able to walk about. "Do you think there's any danger of a relapse?" Mrs. Marlow asked one day. He was silent a moment then he returned, "No, it is not that I fear. Mrs. Marlow, have you noticed anything strange about her? Does she ever speak of herself?" "No." the woman answered. "I have tried to bring her to it without asking too much, but she says nothing about it." "I have questioned her some," Dr. Harris said slowly, "But Mrs. Marlow I think her past life is as much a blank to her as it is to you or me. "Oh, doctor!" the woman exclaimed, with a pained look. "Don't you think she will ever remember it?" The doctor shook his head. "We can't tell; we can only wait," he said. But as time went on there was no change. She answered to the name of Kathleen, and called Captain and Mrs. Marlow, father and mother as she heard them call each other. She seemed quite happy roaming about the island, only when any mention was made of going on the water a troubled look came into her face. "No," she always said, "I would rather not," so they did not urge her. She was hardly twenty, Mrs. Marlow low thought, of a slight lithe figure, and as carelessly graceful as a child. Her complexion was of a creamy, almost transparent whiteness, the crimson showing only in her cheeks and lips. One day Mrs. Marlow brought out the white dress she had worn when she had came to them. "When did you wear this last?" she asked. There was for a moment a startled look in the brown eyes, then the girl said solwly, "I?can't remember." "Didn't it rain?" the woman went on. Kathleen passed her handover her forehead before she returned hesitatingly? n\r? t : 1 t ,.orv)t | i *.!?, X lllllltv 11 iilllKU, UUl i *.?!! U JV. member." Mrs. Marlow put the dress away with a sigh ; it was of no use. The fall, winter and early spring passed uneventfully away, then there came a time when the old house was in an unusual state of commotion and expectancy. Capt. Marlow's son Robert was coming home. He would be here soon now ; he had been in South America, and it was more than a year ago that he had gone away. Mrs. Marlow speculated as to how his coming would effect Kathleen, who seemed as joy-! fully eager to prepare for him as did she herself. Rut when he came the broad shouldered captain of the lUyhflyer was far more affected than was Kathleen. u\Ve are so glad to have you home," she said, looking up frankly into his face; then turning to Mrs. Marlow, she added, "there will be some merry times now Robert has | come." The young man gave his mother a questioning look. Who was this stranger who spoke to him with the quiet familiarity of a life-long acquaintance? After Kathleen left the room his mother told him they all knew of her it was rtoDert wno nrsi lnaumi nt'r iu step into a boat. .She seemed ashamed of her fears, but her face was very pale as they took the first sail down the river together. As the time went on, she grew accustomed to the water, and came to enjoy it. Many were the sails the two took during the long summer afternoons. On one of these, as they rowed slowly along toward a cove bordering the farther side of the island, Robert said, looking off to the wooded islands, beyond with their green branches reflected in the Shepscot's clear waters : "IIow still it is! we might fancy ourselves the only people anywhere about." lie let the oars rest, and the boat drifted slowly; the lapping of the waves was the only sound. "Yes." Kathleen returned, "I was foolish not to like the water." "You like it now?" "When I am with you." The words came quitly, and she did not look up, but | sat as before, with one hand over the boat's side, just touching the water. The young man leaned suddenly toward her. "Kathleen," he said, "stay with me j always. Come with me over the water j where I am going. I want you?need you? can't you love me enough?" The girl looked up at him with the wondering look a child. "Love you ?" she said, "of course, are you not my brother?" "No, I don't want a sister's love. 1 want a wife's." The bright color that had been iu the girl's face until now, died suddenly out; a startled, troubled look came into the brown eyes looking up at him. "Oh, Robert! I can't, I can't!" I He started more at her voice than her words, and asked quickly, "Why can't i you ?" For a niomentsheseemed struggling with herself, then with a despairing face, she cried. "I don't know, I can't remember." A few weeks later they were making a call on some friends of Robert's on a neighboring island; an open piano stood near where Kathleen was seated, and as they were to go she went to it and struck a few notes. The others turned in surprise?they did not know she played ; but without heed .1 -1- - i-.i i c 1 ?^ ing mum, sue suaiuu nurseu, uuu mivi ? few uncertain touches her fingers flew lightly over the keys, bringing out such melody as its owner had never known how to awaken. Robert and his friends stood amazed, as one after another the selections followed each other in rapid succession. Suddenly the girl paused, bowed her head on her hands and sobbed aloud. After a few moments Robert went up to her, "Come Kathleen," he said gently, "let us go home now." She looked up at him as though she had never seen him before. "Home?"'she said, "who are you?" then the strange look went out of her face, she put out her hand with a light laugh. "Yes, Robert, I'm ready," she said. Something like a week after this a stranger came across the big rock, and made his way to the side door of the old Marlow house. A young man with clearcut features, and an unmistakably well-bred air, there was an eager look in the steel-blue eyes, and a suppressed excitement in his manner when he asked the gray-haired woman at the door if she was Mrs. Marlow. He introduced himself by a card on which was the name Everett Moulton. Then he entered and made known his call. Kathleen came into the next room while he was speaking. She heard the voice and paused, and a troubed look coming into her face then she went nearer and stood in the doorway. The young man turned and saw her as she started toward him with anew light breaking into her face. "Everett," she said, softly, "have you come for me." "Yes, Kathleen." And Mrs. Marlow, with tears in her eyes, went out and left them alone. Ere long the story became known. A little more than a year back Kathleen Bray, the daughter of a man of supposed wealth, found herself, upon his death, left penniless and alone. She accepted for the summer the position of pianist of a popular hotel, where she met Everett Moulton. The acquaintance grew into something more' than friendship, but the Moultons were a proud family and would not hear to the only son's marrying a poor girl like Kathleen. She was treated coldly, unfeelingly by them, till her sensitive nature was stung almost beyond endurance, and late one afternoon, hardly thinking or caring where she went, she entered a boat moored near the shore and rowed aimlessly up the river; the storm came on, and weary, bewildered, ill she found her way at length to the old Marlow, homestead. The boat was found down the river afterwards with a light wrap in it recognized as hers. The Moultons thought she had taken herself discreetly away, and Everett mourued her as l<J5t, until a friend wrote to him of hearing music strangely like what Kathleen had played on one of the Boothbay Islands. lie had made inquires which rqsulted in Everett's calling on the Marlows. With Kathleen he went to Chipmunk Islland, and on the scene of her happiness and misery the meaning of it all came back to her and was never lost again. That fall, when Robert Marlow sailed from Boston harbor, Kathleen and her husband came down to the wharf to see him off. He found little to say as he grasped their hands in his farewell, but Kathleen, glancing up with a kindly smile, said, "However long you may be away, be sure we shall not forget." KAIMMIAI) CI'KVES ARE I'SKFI L "You may live till the yellow dog fades from history," said a conductor the other night as the train hummed along, "but you'll never see a straight railroad down a steep hill." The curious passenger with the wart on his nose rolled up his eyes in astonishment. "My dear fellow," he exclaimed, staring at the conductor, "I do not understand what is to prevent a train from running straight uown mil." "Just this," continued the conductor; "curves are necessary on a very heavy grade. Passengers are sometimes struck with the great number of curves on the road while it is up among the hills. They imagine the curves are merely necessary because the road winds around the hills. This isonly partly true. If the railroad were to cross directly at heavy grade it would still i be necessary to have the curves. No train can go at a high rate of speed down a heavy grade on a straight track with safety. The explanation is simple. The tendency of any heavy body like a train is to move in a straight line, and the attraction of gravitation is not sufficient to overcome | the tendency to shoot ofF where great speed or momentum has been obtained. 1 lence, a train Hying down a straight track on the hillside, instead ot keeping the track would shoot off on a tangent into space. "The curve," continued the wise man in the blue uniform, "is one of the greatest safeguards in mountain engineering. This is particularly noticeable in the case of a freight track. It very frequently happens that an engine, drawing a heavy freight train, cannot stick close enough to the track, when going down a heavy grade, to control her speed. An engine going down hill is really more helpless than the same engine going up hill. That is she can pull a greater weight up the hill than she can hold back in going down the hill. It is a very common experience with en giueers 01 ireignc engines 10 nave ineir trains literally push them clown heavy grades at a high rate of speed. In such instance every curve is so much salvation at the right time. The curve retards the speed and enables the wheels of the flying train to get a firmer 'purchase' on the track. Railroading in the hills would be very dangerous were it not for the curves sprmkled along at frequent intervals." Just then the train went around a curve and the curious passenger was thrown to one side of the seat. "It's a wonder to me," he gasped, "that these measly express trains don't fly off the track in going around these heavy curves." "Well sir," said the conductor, "I've been railroading for twenty-five years and I never yet knew or heard of a train jumping the track on a curve. There ins't the slightest danger on a graded curve, and hardly any on a flat curve." Those delights of the sense to which we abandon ourselves in youth become the unspeakable humiliations of age. miscellaneous Reading. FACTS ABOUT TRICHINOSIS. ITS CAUSE AND IIEVELOPMEXT IX THE II UMAX BODY. i In an article on thecause and development of trichinosis, Halt's Journal of Health says: The disease is caused by eating pork in which trichina' exist and which has not been sufficiently cooked. The meat must be subjected to a temperature of at least 100 degrees ail through to kill the parasite. The trachina is a little white worm or "wiggler,"so small that it cannot be seen with the naked eye, and is supposed to originate in the rat, though somp medical authorities ? . l .1 i . . 1 A_ 1L _ t I r noiu main isaiso muurai wj uienug. iiuwever that may be, hogs get the disease and their flesh becomes filled with these parasites. So tenacious of life is the trich hue that they live and flourish so long as the pork is preserved from decomposition. A ham, for instance, which has been smoked too hurriedly, and Ir&t subjected to a sufficient heat, will preserve them for months. Other animals may be impregnated with the disease by taking into the stomach meat in which the trichinte exist, and it is believed that it is in this way that it is conveyed from the rat to the hog. The development of trichinosis in the human body furnishes an increasing study, owing to its rarity in this country, and the cases now in the hospital are being carefully watched by medical experts. There are several kinds of trichina; known to exist, but the particular parasite in question is usually found coiled like a snake; hence its full name of trichina; spiralis. There are male and female of these, and the young are born alive, not being hatched from eggs, as is the case with most parasites. The trichina; being taken into the human stomach in insufficiently cooked pork, the meat is digested, leaving the parasites at liberty. They then grow rapidly until they attain a length of from one-sixteenth to one-eighth of an inch, and within three or four days begin to reproduce, each female m U f/\ r?/1o nf ifAlin/V A giving u11 lii iu uiuusauu.-? ui j uuug. xuu young trichina? attain their full growth in about seven days, after which they bore through the small intestines in which they are born and lodge themselves in the nearest muscles, whence they spread in time to all the muscles of the body. They find their way into the small muscles of the ear, impairing the hearing, or into the muscles of the eye, until the patient is compelled to hold that organ in one position to escape pain. They fill the muscles of the arms and legs until the least tension or movement causes torture, and the patient lies with legs and arms drawn up to relax the musclesand lessen the pain. So far no case is known where they have attacked the muscles of the heart, but they are frequently found in the muscular tissues of the lungs, where they cause bronchitis. The fatal termination of the disease is usually the result of bronchitis brought about in this way, or of the high fever produced by this army of parasites boring their way through the muscles of the entire body. When they begin "to propagate in the stomach or intestines irritation and inflammation follow, causing the vomiting and purging, and this continues, accompanied by in tense pain in the abdomen, as long as they remain there. If taken in time they may be driven out by powerful emetics and purgatives, but this must bedone within a day or two. Cllycerine, or a solution of carbolic acid in glycerine, given in capsules is considered a successful remedy at this stage of the disease. The trichina4 propagate only in the intestines. If not driven out or destroyed there they soon bore through into the muscles of the back, and it is here the first muscular pains are felt. Having once entered the muscles, they are beyond the reach of medical skill, and any attempt to destroy them would be more likely to kill the patient instead. All thatcan be done is to relieve the patient, leaving the disease fn run ifennnrun After six or eight weeks of this burrowing the trichina* dies, and a little capsule forms about it, much like a cocoon about a caterpillar. This is at first a soft, membranous sack, but afterward changes to a chalky cyst. Doctors sometimes find these cysts while dissecting a subject, showing that the persons had trichinosis and recovered. THE FIELD HP BUEXA VISTA. The distance from Sal til lo to Buena Vista is seven miles, and the charges for a boy and a burro was about thirty cents. The donkey was a small, unassuming, mouse colored creature with one ear cut short, but the other had size and length for both, so we couldn't complain. The pack-saddle was j about two-thirds the burro's length and bulged out about six inches on both sides. The driver told us of his fine qualities, but said he couldn't understand Americano and that his name was Santiago Santa Anna. All being ready I mounted Santa Anna and ! the driver followed behind with the don-! key's tail in one hand and a short stick in the other, which he used to guide us with. j There was no bridle or halter on as it wasn't | our place to drive. The day was fine, and j all went while the boy remained at the | helm, but he left his post of duty once, and ; we ran into a thorny chaparral thicket? j then all went well again. We met several parties similarly mounted and cared for;) while we were overtaken by others?thus [ the time passed pleasantly away. On the way we passed a number of lone crosses,; with a pile of stones at their base. These mark the site of murders, and the stones I are thrown at the foot of the crosses as a j mark of respect for the dead. While this) post-mortem respect will never restore the stranger to life, home and friends, yet the average native believes that it goes far to ameliorate the crime, and hence murderers ! and brigands often resort to it as a means I ofimparting peace to their own souls. In due time we reached the hacienda (ranch or farm) of Buena Vista. The battleground is located in a narrow mountain pass, where the peaks of the Sierra Madre tower up 2,000 feet into the skies. One side of the pass is obstructed; by deep ravines, irrigation ditches and rocky j knolls. On the other side there is a level,! rocky, treeless place, with patches of cactus, j wild maguey, thorny little agarita and a) few scrub gincharche bushes. Some of the; breastworks are yet to be seen and are in good preservation, and relics of the battle can yet be found on the field. The level j plain referred to above is where Colonel! Jefferson Davis threw his command of Mis-: sissippi Rifles into the renowed V form while supporting the Indiana regiment. This move on the part of Jefferson Davis has been regarded as being a prime cause in turning the tide of battle in favor of the American army. The country in the locality is a rocky, barren, parched region, with scacely enough of tropical scrub brush to support the flocks of goats that browse in the valley and on the mountain side. The landscape view from the field is lonely and dreary. The bald peaks above the timber line can be seen as far as they reach. There is little appearance of life of any kind. The storms of sand and dust are frequent and fearfully oppressive to man and beast. Our j Mexican veterans will remember such a \ cloud was the advance warning to them of the approach of Santa Anna against Buena Vista. These atrange and dreary scenes, common to the plateaus of Mexico, are pleasant to the inquiring tourist, but far more pleasant to leave than to live among. After spending a day in observation we returned toSaltillo, with a greater respect and deeper sympathy for our soldiers, who met and defeated an enemy more than four times their own number, and that when country, climate and all the clans of the mountains were against them. READ TIliTxEWSPAPERS. It is worth your while, young man, to read the papers these clays. You do read them, eh? Of course you do. You-watch the movements of the baseball clubs with as keen an interest as an astronomer watches the movements of the heavenly bodies. If Sullivan gets drunk you know all the particulars; and you try to keep the run of the comic operas, and the racing news and the big scandals. You do all this if you are the average "young feller" we meet around town. And for some of you this is no slight strain. But has it occurred to you, dear boys, that for the price ot a cigarette a day?for the price of a cigar a week?you can stand on Olympus and see the world make history? Nor is it a matter of price at all, but of in T L UI ...? IKA ClIUUUUll. il |JltyS illiy UIMI1 VW VJUIll >UH: IIIC habit of keeping posted. This crooked old world will bear constant watching. Reflect then, oh youth what a future, on the object lessons of the hour! There is sumething going on in the world besides baseball and horse races. We are piling up history every day. It won't hurt you a bit to stretch your intellect and take it in as it passes. Give a thought to what the newspapers have thrust under j*our eyes during the past two weeks?not some of the great object lessons of the hour. An old man, wrapped in a fog of English conservatism, is crowning his life by a conscientious effort to give Ireland her rights, to open avenuesof prosperty toa land which has groaned for centuries. Will he succeed? What are the elements of the problem? What are the chances of the game? Not long ago, as history runs, Young America unrolled a bright banner that bore the legend, "America, home of the free and land of the brave." Under that flag flocked men from all nations, among them those who know the meaning neither of freedom nor of bravery. They wave a red flag of ruin. Which flag is the brightest? Which must come down? America, of all nations, is the land of workers. The laborer has his right, and the capitalist has his rights. How can the balance best be maintained? /-vv.4- r* C lU A K All l? lirll I Ml >> iiL'ii; n SJJUI t ui tut; IIUUI uiiiv.it equals in zest the interest of these things? And these are hut a few* from many. Even to mention the great problems of the hour would crowd columns. The world rolls faster. The mile-posts of history crowd on each other. Open your eyes, young men, and see what the world is doing! ?? EARLY COACH KI ILIHNU The first London coach builder we read of was named Walter Rippon. lie was employed by Queen Mary Tudor to build her a "turning coach," with pillars and arches. Presumably the fore-wheels turned on a pivot, as our modern carriages do. In 15S4 lie made a chariot for Queen Elizabeth, with four pillars, surmounted by an imperial crown, and with two lower pillars in front, surmounted by a lion and a dragon, her armorial supporters. The same sovereign is represented in one of her portraits ?* " " It ** / ?? l\*? tK A A>I?AQ t A fil ilAfD ill all UJJCI1 unci, I'Uiiiu uy uic uuavio of the Court. It is from her reign that coaches (a name derived from Hungary) and carriages resembling those we now use came into fashion. For many years carriages were possessed only by the Queen and the great officers of the kingdom ; they were exceptional luxuries. Her Majesty's carriages were open at the sides. She was fond of progresses from one great nobleman's house to another, or to and from her own palaces, and wished her liege subjects to see her. The closed coach, as already remarked was introduced from Hungary. It had a wooden top, plentifully garnished with gilt nails, and the sides were closed by curtains. The Emperor of Germany went to Frankfort to his coronation in such a coach in 1475. The German princes in the sixteenth and following centuries seem to have been far in advance of other potentates in the number of their carriages ob coaches. Ilenri IV. of France had but one, and he was in it when he was murdered by ltavaillac. The coaches or caro.sses of Louis the Magnificent, were numerous and sumptuously decorated. According to Macau lay, a procession of a hundred carriages belonging to his Majesty and the Court was sent out to receive James II. when he took refuge in France. Glass coaches, or coaches with glass panels instead of curtains at the sides, do not seem to have been introduced into England until the middle of the seventeenth century. Plate glass for the purpose was of Venetian origin. The manufacture was established | at Fullium, by the Duke of Buckingham, and it was used for carriage panels during the reigns of the Stuart sovereigns. The coach of the Speaker is said to have been made for or used by Oliver Cromwell. It is of carved oak, similar in general outline to the State coaches of more recent times, but more upright on the angles and more compact in appearance. The body is hung by stout leather straps to iron standards, which rest on groups of well-carved figure j work, representing .lupiter, Neptune, the City of London and Africa, other mythological groups are carved on the driving box and at the back. It must be of enormous weight, as it measures nineteen feet !n total length, and fourteen feet from axle to axle. It is drawn by two horses only?etiquette does not allow the Speaker a larger number? so those two have to be of elephantine weight and strength.?Miujazine of Art. 4. -4. Tin-: Siiok Si<;.\\?A Spanish shoemaker of a philosophic turn of mind, affirms that men's characters and dispositions are more accurately read in the way they wear their boots and shoes than in their physiognomy, j or even their handwriting. He says: "Show i me the shoes of a man after he has worn them two months and I will analyze for you his character. In your shoes, for instance, I see lack of energy, levity negligence, anil a disposition to evade the fulfilling of disagreable duties and obligations. The even wearing away of the heels and soles of a pair of shoes shows that the wearer, if a man, is one of good business habits, energetic, prudent, of good head, and faithful in the discharge of his duties. If a woman's shoes are so worn, they indicate that she is, or is capable of being, a good wife and an excellent mother of a family. If; the outer edges of the sole are worn away ! much more than the inner ones, the wearer has an unstable, fickle character, prone to ingratitude. If the inner edges are the most worn, it indicates irresolution and weakness in a man and modesty in a woman. A few months ago a stranger entered my store wearing a pair of shoes that were very much worn on the outside edges and at the toes, the latter so badly that they were quite broken through, while the other r>nrtu /\f Hio <hnoa H'Orn nlmnflf" now. f tnnl? I.* v/. V..V. ?v..~ care to watch that man while he was near my goods, and, when he was gone, said to my wife, "That man is a thief." The very next day lie was arrested by the police for a robbery." ELIIIU B. WASHBURNE. PMhu B. Washburne, is the President of the American Exhibition to be held in London, in 1SS7. Those who remember what the Centennial Exhibition accomplished, in the way of enlightening the people from abroad as to the resources of our land, will readily appreciate the importance of the proposed exhibition. It will be an exhibition of the various American products which are to be carried into the market of Great Britain, and its success.is already assured. A natural pride is felt in the prospect of surprising the people of the older nations with what the young Republic has accomplished. Mr. Washburne comes from a time honored family. The history of all the boys, bearing that name, who left the State of Maine, and went West, to grow into Governors and Congressmen, is a peculiar and interesting one, but the one of the entire family, who liv.ed to enjoy the greatest honors, is the subject of our sketch. His whole life has been one of romance. It is about four miles from Portland, Me., where the singular family, to which he belongs was raised and from whence they drifted out to help shape the financial and political history of the West. By an accident Elihu B. became a member of Congress from the Galena. Illinois, District, just before the war. lie was then a man of only average position, and but for the demands and accidents of the war, probably would never have been heard of as a national character. Fort Donelson was his real beginning, as it was Gen. Grant's. It was Washburne's defense of Grant against Halleck's malicious jealousy that cemented a valuable friendship. But for Washburne's persistent and earnest .defense of the hero of Donelson, Ilalleck would doubtless have succeeded in his desire toiget rid of him. It is not fair to assert that but for his legal support of Grant during the war, Washburne would not have been much of a man in national affairs, but the ability with which he defended him attracted attention. Washburne had never spoken to Grant up to the time of the capture of Donelson. When Grant became President he called the man who had .stood by him in his need, to his cabinet as Secretary of State. Washburne resigned this post to accept one as Minister to France. Jle has had every honor that a man can have in this country except the Presidency, and his determined efforts to secure this last honor, alone prevented Grant's nomination for a third time. Since then Washburne has drifted out of public affairs. SLAVERY 7x FLORIDA. It will probably be difficult to convince Northern people that the "peculiar institution" for the extinction of which such oceans of blood and millions of treasure were spent a few years ago still has any existence within the borders of the United States. Nevertheless, it is a fact in certain of the more southern parts of Florida negroes are held in as strict bondage as ever they were before the great war in any part of the country. Slavery survives, however, only among the few remnants of the Seminole tribe who still have their homes in the woods and everglades south and east of the C'aloosahatchie River. There are many families or ttie red men wno, mou^n perfectly inoffensive, so far as the whites are concerned, maintain a dignified independence of the general laws and administer their own affairs in a way strongly reminiscent of patriarchal traditions. They live principally by the chase and upon the fish of which all Florida waters, lakes, streams and seas are extremely prolific; and for vegetable food they depend upon small patches of ground cleared here and there, as fancy may dictate, from year to year. The cultivation of these patches among the poorer members of the tribe is carried on by their women; but the more prosperous of the Indians have their negro slaves, upon whom they devolve all the hard labor of civilization, as well as the few items of mental drudgery incident to their simple methods of living. Only a few weeks ago one of this class, a full blooded Indian, claiming the rank of a Seminole chief, came to Tampa to buy stores, bringing with him a young negress whom he pointed to with pride as his own f ( :iiAfn 1 C1IJIUt\ 1 ill; llic II11IC-, iUC i chief, heap bigger than white man, white j man no slave, only Seminole have slave," i &c. Several people of Tampa, both white j and colored, tried to interest themselves on behalf of the black girl hoping to induce her to assert her right to freedom and to remain in the city, where a home would have been provided for her. But she knew no language but Seminole, and all efforts to make her understand were fruitless. She took fright, too, at the well meaning efforts, and breaking from those who would have pursued her, tied to her master, and, taking hold of his skirts could not be induced to detach her hold all the time he remained in Tampa. It is but fair to add that since that singular event news has been received that the chief has promoted the poor girl from the position of slave to wife, an honor which she, of course, has to share with two or three others. Upon first hearing this queer story I naturally concluded that it was an isolated instance and by no means to be considered as representing a common state of things, but I was assured by Mr. Henderson, a leading merchant of Tampa, an extensive stockraiser and shipper, and a gentleman who has been familiar with this part of the country for forty years, that every Seminole family of any degree of consequence has one or more negro slaves, who are kept in profound ignorance of the English language, and who consequently, know nothing of their claims to freedom. A NEW ANAESTHETIC. A week ago a little haldheaded dentist, who lives in Brooklyn, sent invitations to the eminent doctors of this city and Philadelphia, asking them to he present at a series of experiments that he proposed making with a new amesthetic he had discovered. He explained that his compound was something entirely unknown hitherto, and the result of five years' work. lie pleaded that he was poor, and could not afford to give his formula to the world, and, although he was willing to demonstrate the uses of his discovery, he preferred to keep the ingredients to himself. Here the little dentist went into a discussion of functions of nerves and the effect of the old anjcsthetic on the system and their tendency to produce nausea, headache, prostration and perhaps death. He wound up by saying that his discovery produced natural sleep almost instantaneously, and the patients recovered of their own accord invigorated and refreshed. He hobbled into a side room and soon appeared with a decrepit old woman. He promised to remove all the decayed stumps from her mouth if she allowed him to use his amesthetic in the operation. He saturated a napkin with a substance that looked like water and emitted a pleasant odor. For an instant he held it over the old lady's nose, telling her to breathe freely, and in thirty seconds she was unconscious. He allowed the napkin to remain, and for over two minutes he worked, extracting sixteen teeth. The patienj never moved, and to all appearances she did not feel the pain attending the operation. On removing the napkin almost immediately she revived and stepped out of the chair as fresh and hearty as she got into it. She said she had a vague idea of what was going on while under the influence of the amesthetic, but could not move hand or foot. She said she knew the dentist was pulling her teeth out, but felt no pain. Eight persons were made and kept unconscious from a half to two and a half minutes. In one case the napkin was allowed to remain for six minutes. The patients all told stories similar to the old lady's and went away in good spirits. The Star man was the last subject, and these, in brief, were the sensations lije experienceu : From the moment the napkin was placed over his face a feeling of unconsciousness came over him, and at the end of the third free inspiration everything became blank. His arms hung at his side, and he could feel that they were there, but they were beyond the voluntary control of the will; a , sense of dreamy langour followed, and, as if on the wings of a fleet bird, he was borne through the air high above the earth. The sensation was altogether pleasant. Then the scene changed, and his skull tingled, a million minute hammers no bigger than a fine needle began pounding all at once. They shattered into fragments in an instant, the napkin was removed and all was over, j Recovery was instantaneous, and all etfect was gone. The time taken by one of the physicians was one and three-quarter minutes.? Xew York Star. REDEMPTION OF THE "AMERICAN DESERT." Mr. Nimrao said last year in his official | report of the cattle industry: It appears to be a well-established fact that in the States of Kansas and Nebraska the limits of the area sufficiently watered by the natural rainfall ' for agricultural purposes has during the last twenty years moved westward from loO to 200 miles." Wichita is near the ninetyj eighth meridian, and Dodge City, for many I years a centre of the cattle trade, is almost exactly upon the 100th meridian. A settler in Nebraska, living near the 98th meridian, declares that land in the central part of that State which now yields heavy crops, was regarded as a desert twelve years ago. xi At-? woJoo Imo Aven nn j it was mmi uiiiicuu 11/ ioi.^ iihj vtvii v.. small patches of ground in the valleys; but now, in the same region, the farmers easily cut two tons from one acre. Hills that were then almost covered with barren sands, showing scarcely a blade of grass, now support thousands of cattle. As late as 1878, he said, no water above ground could be found between Beaver and Cedar Creeks, just west of the 98th meridian. Now.it is reported, that region, and a stretch of country for 100 miles to the northwest are dotted with shallow ponds, varying from one acre to live acres in extent, around which excellent grazing is found. A few years ago settlers on the 98th meridian in Nebraska supposed that they had I reached the western limit of corn culture, but since those days corn has been shipped from a region 100 miles westward. These changes have been caused by an increase of rainfall, and this increase appears to have been caused by the cultivation of the soil. The concurrent testimony of settlers, not only in Kansas and Nebraska, but also in more elevated regions in the far Northwest, seems to prove this.?i\T. Time*. ? This Curative Power op Nature.? The old writers recognized, in a blind sort of way, that there was a force in the organism which tended toward recovery from disease. This they called "the curative power of nature." One of the glorious triumphs of modern medicine is a more perfect appreciation of this great fact. "To let well enough alone," and not to weaken or prevent the action of any organ or structure unless it is clear that something is to be gained by so doing, are the results of this fact being duly appreciated. The "kill-orcure" doctrine is utterly abandoned by all who have any real knowledge of modern science. In order to secure the full operation of "the curative power of nature" the sick dog goes away by himself and obtains rest and quiet. All the intelligent animals do the same. Rest for the debilitated body, or of the portion of it injured by overuse or disuse, is one of the most efficient methods of obtaining a restoration to health. The sign that rest is needed may be visible only to those who have studied the action of the organs in a healthy state. Rest of one part may being injury to healthy organs. Exercise of the natural powers in health is generally the only method of securing their future healthy action.