Port Royal standard and commercial. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, November 23, 1876, Image 1
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v PORT ROYAL
Standard and Commercial.
VOL. IY. NO. 51. BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1876. $2.00 Off AHL Single Copy 5 Cents.
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1 * '-^ 1^*. I raahfnn yfniam
To Old Friends. ft
v
Whore are they scattered now,
The old, old friends ?
One made her dwelling where the m&plee c
glow, B
Anl mighty stream* through solemn forest fl
flow, *]
Bat never from the pine crowned land of j
now I
A message sends. r
Home meet me oft amid
Life's common ways;
And then, perchance, a word or smile declares
That warm hearts throb beneath their load of
cares; (
For love grows on, like wheat among the tares, c
Till harvest days.
' But some are fall'n asleepa
The words are sweet! \
Oh, friends at rest beneath the blessed sod,
My feet still tread the weary road ye trod t
Ere yet yonr loving souls went baok to God ! 8
When eha'l we meet? c
Oh, thon divinest Friend, 1
When shall it be
That I may know them in thaj|^armente t
white ? a
And see them witn a new and clearer eight, 1
Mine old familiar rrienda?made fair and 8
bright. 1
Like onto Thee!
t
ON THE VERGE OF DEATH. \
f
A GYMNAST'S ADVENTURE. 1
F
\
I had among my fellow students a ?
special renown for my skill in every
kind of gymnastios. Athletic exercise, c
in the widest sense of the term, was to c
me a pleasure to which I had surrender- t
ed myself, body and soul, and in oonse- (:
quence of which I possessed, although f
not tail and strong, some muscle and a t
high degree of confidence, while I had c
acq aired, ia perilous situations, pres- f
euoe of mind?all of which qualities v
form even now a considerable portion of g
my character. When at last my studies a
were ended, and I had obtained a situa- j.
tion as pastor in western Germany, I did ^
not give up my old inclination for gymAt./l
tl\A?A 1WACI AATievlntmKla folb
jiddbioo) auu i uci c if ao ia/judiuvi oi/iv v?ma ?
ooo tine day over the circumstance that e
the voucg clergyman of the church of
St. Blasins had been seen hanging in his 3
g trden i y his legs, and in. this headlong t
position caressiug bis little eon, who was c
c. awliLg under bun on the ground. I.
p j&csscd such an article of humanity, y.
s.uce, on my accession to the pastorate, e
I* had steered into the harbor of matri- 0
inony.
But my favorite diversion, when I had ^
a few leisure hiurs, and the sun was not 4
too scorching, cousistecf in climbing to s
a narrow projection on the lofty church n
roof, and walking about there while I c
smoked my cigar. *
What a maguiflcent place this old *
church roof was! Quite aDother world ^
thin that which lay far below me?a re- j
g;c>u of rock and stone, without vegetation
or water, except when it rained, and
the gutters were filled, in which case _
this spt cial realm presented little attraction.
It was a world where I had often ti
indulged in star gazing. u
I regarded this airy region as my Q
special province, where I reigned in soli- v
tary majesty over my subj ots, consisting a
. of daws and swallows?often very noisy f,
and intolerable ones. It excited in me
a merry, perhaps somewhat boyish u
feeling, as I thought what a look my ?
superintendent would put on when he t
heard of my excursions in the narrow, Q
gloomy towers, between great grinning j,
stone heads, fat cherubs, scaly dragons f
and gutters of zinc, or on the pinnacles f
of the towers, from which was presented
a wide prospect over a picturesque D
landscape. . ,
Sometimes I climbed down in the c
broad guttor in the middle of the roof, (J
from which nothing was to be seen u
above but the blue heavens and the jswarming
swallows, and below, the *
broad paved church square, on which, a ^
hundred aud twenty feet beneath, the a
Deople crept about like ants.
It was daring one of these exearsions 0
that the event occurred which I will re- i
late, and which thoroughly qjred me j,
for several months of my desire for t
roof climbing. t
I most first inform you that, around ^
the outside of the cathedral, just where
the roof terminated, ran a smooth pro- it
jeoting edge, about a foot wide. Under c
this, considerably lower, just above the j
great entrance gate, was a huge stone K
projection, which formerly supported a j,
colossal figure ox St. Peter, holding a v
great iron lantern. The statue had long c
ago disappeared, and half of the lan- j
tern was broken off, so that what was
left had the appearance of an arm chair a
without legs. t,
Standing on the stone eaves one day, ^
above this relic of past centuries, the j?
thought suddenly seized me that it would ^
be an amusement of a new and origiual ^
kind to swing mpself down and enjoy n
my cigar in this fantastic arm chair. ^
Without hesitating a moment, I .
turned around, kneeled down, seized t;
the eaves with convulsive grasp, and
the next instant was dangling in midair \}
over the abyss, more than a hundred
feet from the earth. u
As I looked, in this situation, under
me at the defective lantern, I found
it- - A T L J: .*4 _
Ul&t A WJHS UUI< Uirounj^ UYCt IK 1UUCCU, j.
it was two feet further from the wall
than I had thought. e
This circumstance, however, caused J(
me little anxiety. Giving myself a
swing, by which I easily pressed one L
foot against the building, I sprang safe- a,
ly into my resting place in the broken jj
lantern. a,
Here I sat a long time, smoking my
cigar, drumming with my heels on the r<
wall, and complacently enjoying the
oocl of the evening and the magnificent
prospect.
The sun was setting before I thought n
of undertaking my return, which I was r
especially induced to do by the eight fj
of one or two persons, who were stand- v.
J I gazing up at me. \
three minutes before quite t!
>ople ha l gathered abont h
r the spectacle of a man h
Peter's lantern. v
thought I, "it is now b
J Some one will find out b
I then there will be a pretty 1
/
J
v
;oesip in the place." Brit I suddenly
>ecame aware that return was not so
asy.
My seat was so constructed that I
ould not lise in iry usual way. The
ides of the lantern were of smooth iron,
>nd so high that I could get no hold.
Chere was nothing left me but to press
ay hands upon the seat behind me,
uise myself so, and draw my legs after
ne until they could rest between my
lands upon the lantern. Then I could
ise to my full height, and turn around
>n my own axis.
This way of raising yourself every
jymnast knows and practices, but every
me knows, too, what an exertion of
nuscular strength in hands and arms is
leceesary in this procedure, and that
my mistake would occasion a failure?
lerhaps, too, a fall below.
Now, there is a vast difference beween
a bar erected on level ground,
~ ^ A*> fVin wo 11 A! Q
kliU tui UVU 1B11VC1U Uli uiu nau v> u
ihurch a hundred feet high, from which
, fall upon the rough pavement must
Lave an absolutely fatal effect.
The more I considered my situation
he less it pleased me, and there I sat
ind smiled feebly at the multitude beow,
which increased every moment,
ahamed to cry for help, or make known
ay fear.
" Well," said I t? myself, "if I sit
iere any#longer I shall lose every favorible
chance to escape. It is ludicrous
o become bewildered, like a child that
ias gore astray in climbiDg, quite aside
rom the astonishment that the story
nust cause, if it comes to the ears of my
>arishioners and supporters. Up, then!
! will close my eyes and act as if I
rere performing on the soft turf of my
garden." ^
In the space of a minute I stood on
ay legs in the lantern, and wondered at
ny foolish weakness, when I observed,
o my terror, that I still had the most
lifficult part of my undertaking to perorm.
Raising my hands above my head
o 3eize the smooth stone eaves, I be:ame
aware that they were at least a
oot and a half beyond my reach. In
rain did I rise on my tiptoes and
tretch out my arms convulsively; it
eemed highly probable that I should
lave to spend the night in this situaion.
This was truly no avreeable oonsideraion
; for the seat was only just large
nough for me to sit upright in it, and
f I fell asleep, which was possible, I
hQuld be precipitated headlong upon
ho pavement. . Then they could collect
ay bones the next morning.
it this critical moment 1 was rejoiced
>y the appearance of the sexton on the
" *-- ? ???i ? ?j
uvea, no nau misseu tut*, uuu uuu
ome to seek me.
"Silbermann," I cried, interrupting
lis exclamations of astonishment, "1
m, as you see, in a peculiar dilemma, j
ince r cannot reach the eaves. You
aust help me. It is no use to bring a
ope, since yon would not have room to
-race yourself. If you bend down, howver,
and reach me your hand, you can
xert your entire strength, and raise me.
fou are a powerful man, and I am not
>erticularly heavy."
" Oh, sir, I am sure that I cannot lift
cu 1" he replied.
" My good man, you must I" I assertd.
"I cannot indeed pass the whole
light in this situation, and, moreover, I
aight ^ack up my bundle to-morrow
oi mediately, when this stupid story beame
known. Do not be foolish, thereore,
and give me your hand."
In reply the sexton crouched down
Luwillingly, and stretched out his hand,
rnich I firmly seized with both mine by
he wrist, while I swung myself out into
aidair. I felt one or two convulsive
erks, and was drawn up about half a
oot, but then at once let down again,
le could not raise me.
I looked up. Such a visage as met
Ciy gaze, may I never in my life ^ee
gain 1 It was palo as death; the proruding
eyes stared with the expression
>f measureless terror into the abyss beleath
us and a cold sweat stood upon
lis forehead. 44Let go!" he cried.
' Curses npon you, let go! You will
ireak my arm ! I can hold on no longer,
nd shall be dashed in pieces !"
Qe wailed like a child, at this moment
I extreme peril. My hair rose?my
rain reeled. I expected myself every
ustant to plunge below. My deRpera"
? ? y. MM AM/1 T mOQ f
ion gave mo uuiuuerw, uiu x ??o umrised
at the clearness and consistency
rith which I spoke.
44 Silbermann," I said, 44 listen to me,
nd cease this unreasonable Clamor. I
an feel that you are gaining the counerpoise
more and more every successive
econd. If I let go of yon I shall persh;
if not, we both will, and I assure
on that 1 shall not let go, as long as I
an hold on. ?ou had better, therefore,
jaw me up at once."
I saw that he set his teeth together,
nd closed his eyes. Then followed a
srrible exertion of strength, and I was
neeling upon the eaves. The sexton
ly beside me in a deep swoon. I now
ore him carefully through the trapdoor
d the vestry, and gave him water, so
bat he soon recovered consciousness;
ut neither of us has ever forgotten that
erilous adventure upon the eaves of
ic church roof.
" il Jl 1
As lor myseir, tnree mourns pastseu uy
cfore 1 again trod this almost fatal
lace, and yon can easily imagipe that I
voided St. Peter's lantern like fire.
The sexton kept the secret, assuring
iquisitive qaestioners that an eccentric
laglishman, traveling through the oounry,
had taken his seat in the lantern,
nd this version of the story was curently
believed.
Although the gymnastic mania was
ot entirely frightened out of me by this
dventure, it only remained in a modi-1
ed form, and I have since confined my
thlotic exploits to places less perilous
lan the scene of those moments of ter3r.
As Bishop Tuttle, of Montana^ was
raking his annual visitation last July a
uichman and his wife brought their
rmily to be baptized. Among them
as a fine baby boy of six months. I
Vhen the bishop asked the names of
lie chiidren the mother gave as the
aby's name " Bishop Tuttle." The
ishop mildly suggested his first name
;as Daniel, but the mother conld not
ie driven from her resolution, and the
aby was accordingly baptized Bishop
tattle Curtis.
Humorous Farm Notes.
XOVZMHB.
The beautiful, frolicksome grasshoppers
have now crawled into their holes
for winter. No more will we hear them i
singing on the fences or in the verdant :
trees. Not much any more. The bull- i
frog's melodious voice is hushed and the
mudturtle dove has hid herself in the i
depths of the green waters.
Woj-k on the farm now will not be so <
heavy as some other months. Still, you i
can put in time shelling your hay and
buckwheat cakes and properly storing '
'em away in the loft. I
Toward the latter end of this month i
Thanksgiving will threaten. It comes
very hard on those not prepared for it.
Sometimes occasionally.
Now fatten your vegetables and store
your poultry away in a warm, dry oellar,
free from frost.
For Thanksgiving dinner have turkey
by all means.
Early rose turkeys, crossed with Hartford
prolific, fatten best and make the
most savory pie.
DECEMBER.
This is the month of fnn and biled
cider, and Christmas and mince pies and
corn shnckings and sich. A reaper is a
nice thing to shuck oorn with. I have i
frequently started 'for home with my
reaper on my back, went out to the crib
and shucked several hundred bushels
before breakfast.
Look out for some snow this month, i
Potato bugs won't tronble your vines :
after the snow falls on 'em. The bugs |
don't like snow. This is snow joke.
Now kill your smoked hams and side <
meat and butcher your dried beef.
Christmas was discovered a great
many years ago by a chap named Judas.
The hop market will be lively this
month.
Now set out your winter wheat; mulch
well, but do not prune too closely.
Poets have called this month "gloomy,
cold December;" but, then, that depends
altogether upon the weather, you
know.
JANUARY.
Now look for a " corner " in ioe, especially
if your boots haven't got nails in
'em.
At the front end of this month a new
year comes in. So the almanac says.
It's very easy to see where I left off my
old boots, as I gaze with fond emotion
on my new French calf box-toed ones,
but this New Year business gits me
rather badly.
About this time newspaper offices
look out for " Odes to the dying year."
They are generally owed for, too.
Fix up your fiahiDg lines and air your
woolens and furs.
Dig your winter apples and mow your
cabbage.
The Golden Sebright Bantam is, perI
hnna. the best cabbaee crown, though
some prefer the Chester White, as they
don't eat near so much as other kinds
and keep fatter on less feed.
Hoe your squashes and examine your
strawberry beds for grub worms. A grub
hoe is the best thing to do it with.
Gather your radishes and drain the
water off your swamp land. If you
haven't any swamp land to drain, drain
the cider barrel or something else. A
farm isn't worth a sou markee unless
there is a drain on it.
And the rosy (nosy) month of January
is just the time to do this woik in.
A Disgusted Widow. i
Capt. W. has just returned from the
Warm Springs. The captain is a '
widower. At the springs was a widow
who rather set her cap for the captain/
The girls told him to look out, and the
captain replied, well, he was ready.
Sitting out on the portico one even- J
ing, the cool breeze fanning like a tencent
palmleaf, and thinking of his daugh- 1
tors far away at school, the widow moved 1
up close by and opened conversation. '
" I hear, captain, you have grown up j
laughters." 1
"Yes, madam, I have."
"How I should like to see their 1
pictures." 1
"I will show you a pioture of my
.rU.lsini- -Innrtli" aoi/] fha nontnin hanr]. '
(UUOOV UaUgUWA y MMtv? ?**v vwywi.i.|
ing her one. 1
"Oh, ouch a sweet faoe," said the j
widow; "and such a fine eye. Isn't '
she called like you, captain?" ,
" I don't know, madam, that she is." :
"It is a wonder to me, Captain W., }
you do not get married." j
"Well, ma'am, I never think of it; j
for the woman I'd have might not have
mo, and then, you k^ow, vice versa."
" Yes, but what kind of a lady would J
buit yon?" and the widow looked her *
sweetest. '
It was right here that the captain's ]
wonderful nerve never forsook him, but j
settling his eye steadily at the widow'3, ]
he hardened his heart and replied: j
" Madam, she must be ninety-five years '
old to a second, and worth two hundred J
thousand dollars." *
" It is getting so chillly out here I j
must go for my shawl," said the widow; !
and she looked frigid zones at the cap- :
tain as she brushed him by with a toss of 1
her head. j
Punctuate to Suit. *
(
The following can be used for either a ?
I friend or an enemy, according to the j
\ way you punctuate it: E
"He is an old-and experienced man
in vioe an.t wickedness he is never found
in opposing the works of iniquity he
tik< 8 delight in the downfall of his
neighbors he neVer rejoices in the prosperity
of any of his fellow creatures he
is always ready to assist in destroying
the peace of society he takes no pleasure
in serving the Lord he is uncom- j
monly diligent in sowing discord among c
I his friends and acquaintances he takes c
; no pride in laboring to promote the g
: c uise of Curistianity he has not been e
negligent iu endeavoring to stigmatize
all public teachers he makes no efforts t
to snbduo his evil passions he strives t
| bar 1 to build up satan's kingdom he s
| le nds no aid to the support of the On- b
: pel among the heathen he contributes c
largely to the evil adversity he pays t
: great heed to the devil he will never go \
to heaven he mn?t go where he will re- f
1 ceive the just lecompense of reward." j
Pa:isians dress their children in richer c
[ materials than do the English women, j \
FARMING BY WHOLESALE.
How Thlrtjr-Slx Thousand Acre* of WtaenC
are Headed and Stored la Two Dlontha.
Glen farm, on the Sacramento river,
in California, contains fifty-six thousand
acres, of which thirty-six thousand
acres are sown with grain. The ranch
is ran by laborers, and constitutes a little
city of itself. When work is in full
running order, say in July, it is oarried
on from seven different points. At this
time the working force is nine hundred
people, and they have the latest improved
.machinery to aid them. The
grain is cut with headers, leaving the
straw to be plowed in as manure. The
headers used have sickle blades from
twelve to sixteen feet long, and just
above this knife is a revolving frame
that catches the tops of the grain stalks
and bends them over the blade. After
the sickle has done its work, the heads
of the grain, together with the portion
of the stalk that has been cut off with
them, fall to the rear upon a traveling
belt some forty inohes broad, which,
running up over a shoot projected from
the left side of the header, carries the
grain out of the header and tips it overboard
into a header wagon, which is always
in attendance.
One working party consists of one
separator, five or six headers, one engine,
some twenty-five header wagons,
seventy or eighty men, and the same
number of horses and mules. Most oi
the men are Americans, but there is a
sprinkling of three or four other /aces;
among them, strange to say, the Portuguese.
The work is systematized thus: One
of these working* parties places itself in a
oertain position, and then cuts over an
allotted section. For example: in case
a mile square of grain is to be out and
thrashed, the area is [divided, suppositious^,
into nine equal parts, and the
working force attacks each of these ir
regular order, advancing from one tc
another on successive days.
Suppose that ugon one of the man)
days of the harvest season you get oul
of' bed at an unusually early hour, and
again climb to the house top.
You will sweep the horizon with youi
glass. Hardly to be seen, even with
that, are some curiously shaped dots,
moving slowly hither and thither. The)
seem to prawl like insects, some going
north, some south, some east, and some
west. After a while you will distinguish
that nearly every one of these dots is ol
a deep red color. A little later you
recognize the awkward shape of the
separators, and the broad topped fan
uels of the engines. Throngs of people,
most of them in wagons, yet some
afoot, follow on behind. After a while
all of these now widely separated groupt
will come to a standstill. They have
taken up their positions for the on
slaught upon the grainfields as deliberately
and with as muoh thought a*
batteries take up positions for battle.
When one of these corps approachee
its station, a header, with its attendaul
wagons, is sent forward to ont a clear
place ior the center of the area to bt
worked npon that day. The machine it
pressed upon the wheat, devouring it ak
it goes, and then, having accomplished
a proper distance, turns and works in s
circle, catting out a bare spot from
three to five acres in extent. This if
the point from which seventy acres oi
wheat are to be hewed down, cast intc
the thrasher, and sacked for market before
sundown.
Then the separator aud engine, and
fill the teams, move forward up the
laue, and into the circle. The first
comes to a halt in the center, the second
takes up its position in the rear, and
the headers at once attaca the wheat;
the first taking the first swath of the encircling
grain, the next the se ond, a
Little in the rear, and so on. .
The belting between the engine and
senarator is adjusted, and the engineer
3tarts his fires. The shoots that are to
convey the grain from the canvas on the
ground upon which it is pitched from the
header wagons are attached, and the bag
tillers bring up their sacks. All the lids
that cover the inner works of the great
machine are drawn over and all is made
fast. The wheels are locked, as are
those of the engine. Great care is taken
to keep all things on as perfect level ae
may be, to insure the proper economy ol
foroe.
They try the engine. It is all right,
rhe separator clatters in tune, and nothing
is amies. Now, then, for the grain !
tu a moment the wagons begin to unload.
Hnge forkfuls are pitched upon
the ground, from which-it is borne into
the recesses of the separator. Then
there ensues a strange combination of
;remendous noises?a sound of grinding,
i sound of brushing, a sound of thumping,
and a sound of roaring. The entire
'abrio shivers from top to bottom, and
from out every crevice there pours a
;hin sheet of dust. The upper part
Delches out the waste, hundreds of
pounds and tons of chaff, and a stifling
jloud follows it. In a second everything
s on springs. The men who fill the
Dags hang them at the edges of the
roughs. The brown flood comes pourng
down?a stream of clear kernels of
vbeat?and the day's work fairly begins.
Prom the largest separator in the field
;here run out six sacks, or eight hunIred
pounds of grain, fit for market,
sach minute. This machine, one day in
iugust, 1874, thrashed five thousand
ieven hundred and seventy-nine bushels,
[ts owner calls it the Monitor. All the
mgines have names as well?Gladiator,
Phoenix, Mars, and the like. No one
vould ever be mad enough to call one
>? these Ceres, for instance. There is
10 suggestion of gentleness, or grace, or
Doetry, in the whole field. All is ingervnA/tloiAn
fnroo A ffl V of
lUilfJl ^/ICVilOiUU) V&VIVA} AVAWf ? W-J ?idmiration
rises to one's lips time and
igain, bnt the sensation is the same that
>ne feels npon witnessing a string of ten
itrikes in a bowliDg alley, only a thouland
times extended.
It is great to see the headers keep
;heir circles of destruction, hewing down
he fair expanse of bowing golden heads
is a ship hews down the crested waves,
ind to hear the smooth, nnending clickslack
of their glistening sickles. Even
he movements of the ungainly red
ragons that wait npon them have an unfiling
order that has a strange power to
)lease.
Mofct of the men are dressed in brown
anvas jumpers and overalls, and wear
>road brimmed hats of straw or felt,
Not one of them is idle, nor seems to
wish to be. Most of . them are driving.
Some are pitching, a few are feeding the
separator, a few more are filling, sewing (
and carrying away the bags, and some 1
are brushing away the heaps of chaff. 1
Early in the day there is plenty of talk
and laughter, but later on, as the work 1
tells and the sun grows hot, the tongues 1
become silent, and the hubbub of the '
machines alone fills the air.
> At noon a huge van is driven upon the j
field, laden down with a dinner of meat, ;
vegetables and pies, all well cooked and
> very palatable. Farm hands, like fisher- 1
men, nowadays are epicures. This van 1
is so constructed that its sides form
broad tables. The cooks who serve J
stand in the body of the wagon, and the
diners range themselves around the outi
side. All are sheltered by a screen of
' wood or canvas overhead.
> By nightfall all the seventy acres are
i bare; that is, not a head of wheat is left,
i A trampled stubble higher than one's
; knee remains to tell the tale, but all the
beanty and worth have departed, and 1
i the place is desolate. To-morrow the
i same scene * ill be enacted in another
section of the same size, and a similar
- bustle and nproar will ensue, and a
similar pile of plethoric brown bags
> piled very high will reward the labor of
the day.
It must he remembered that there are
i six other corps, exactly like the one de!
scribed, at work simultaneously upon
\ the Glenn ranch. Seven throngs of men
; and two hundred and fifty machines will
labor incessantly for over two months to
deplete these vast fields of their splen>
did yield.
i _______________
i
> A War Lasting One Hundred and
Thirteen Year.-,
, Isabella was the daughter of a French
l king in the fourteenth oentury, and the
) wife of an English one, Edward II., who
was deposed by his Parliament, and
r murdered in a dungeon in Berkley
. castle. This Isabella was perhaps the
[ cause of more misery to both England and
France than any woman who ever lived.
She became the enemy of her spouse,
returned to France and fomented a rebellion
against him, kept the young
prince (her son, who afterward became
Edward Ilf.) away from his father, invaded
England with an army, and assisted
in defeating and deposing her
husband the king.
Edward III. claimed the throne of
France as the grandson of the father of
Isabella, which olaim was opposed by
another scion of royalty. Then cornmenced
a sanguinary war, which
lasted one huudred and thirteen
years, in which the Black Prinoe, son of
Edward III., the Duke of Bedford,
King John of France, Joan of Arc and
many other historic personages figured
conspicuously. The spirit in which it
was prosecuted may be judged by that
in which it was commenced. The
knights and gentlemen of England assembled
under the presidency of the
crown, and bound themselves " to ravage
and massacre without pity, to spare
neither mill nor altar, nor pregnant
?o]ofiro nrtf frionrl " Frnm
| WUUiUlty ill/1 H71HV1TV UV*
| 1337 to 1450, with short intermissions,
i was the deadly work prosecuted, sons
( and grandsons and great grandsons esi
pousing and bequeathing the quarrels
| of their progenitors. Nobles, ecclesiastics
and common people shared alike
the cruel destruction. At times France,
I which was the theater of the war, be|
came so impoverished that many of her
. citizens starved to death, and the various
provinces were so alienated tjiat
| they almost ceased to be a nation. And
, for what was this war of over a century's
I duration waged ? Not for the good of
the people, but for the ambition of
would-be sovereigns.
I Kings and dukes in those days claimed
! not only certain countries, but also the
( people who inhabited them. They arro(
gated the right to force them from their
( homes and pit them against each other,
, as at Crecy and Agincourt, until the
J ground was soaked with blood and the
. corpses were piled high on each other.
Their motto was ' rule or ruin," and
| while they did not always succeed in
ruling, they never failed in ruining,
j Since 1450 the race has made some
! progress in the right direction. The
thirty years' war of the German reformation,
and the wars of Napoleon from
1793 to 1815 were certainly long enough.
But since then we recall no great war
between so-called Christian nations
which has continued longer than three
or four years.
For the Court to Decide.
Somewhere about a score of years ago,
while Neal Dow's law was in full force,
an incident transpired in the court held
in Paris, Me., worth recording. Judge
X. was on the bench. He was a genial,
jolly soul in society, but inclined to be a
little testy sometimes in judicial harness.
The case on trial was the State
vs. a hotelkeeper, and the complaint was
sale of liquor. One of the principal 1
witnesses was Biogulady obtuse. He
did not like to lie, nor did he seem anxious
to tell the whole truth. He confessed
to having made a purchase, but 1
he could not tell what he purchased nor
could he remember what he had asked
for. At leDgth the county attorney
asked him:
44 Did you drink any of it ?"
44 Not thar." !
44 Well, did you drink it anywhere ?"
441 piust a* done it."
44How did it taste?"
441 couldn't say."
44 Yes, you can say. Certainly you \
J can tell me how it tasted." i(
I At this point the court interposed. |,
The question was deemed trifling and
out of place.
Why do you press it," the judge demanded.
"Well, your honor," replied the at-1
torney, " it is very evident that the witness
bought liquor of the defendant,
and we want to know what description
of liquor it was. As the witness refuses
to tell me what it was, I thought if he
would only tell how it tasted the court
might be able to determine for,itself."
The audible smile that followed, inside
and outside the bar, told that the
hit was understood and appreciated.
. I
A striving evening dress is one of j
blaok and silver, trimmed with poppies, j
a nero flrrrim*
Albany de Fonmanquy the British
oonsul at New Organs, ggkes as follows
bo the RepubliqLr^jtMmt oity: On
the seventh of <^top^lab9, the Brit^,
ish steamship (*j?aught; 4,000 tdre/
sprung a leak which gained upon her so
rapidly that by the next morning the
water had extinguished her engine fires,
leaving her a coffin for 601 humau be-'
ings, sinking slowly bnt surely hr a
heavy sea. In this condition, and while
150 miles from Boston harbor, * fire
(which had been smoldering for some
days, unknown) biutffcout, and doubled
the chances for (jflh She was an iron
ship, and soon iJWiaes became so hot
that tLey hissed and steamed as she
rolled, deeper and deeper. There was
a race between,.strafed water^w; all
those lives, apcT Jfo file best tljjRould
the boats not be able W save a
third of tmm from one death or the
other. The American brig Minnie
Schaefer, 198 tons, Captain John Wilson,
saw the blazing sinking steamer,
and bore down JflQer assistance. So
slow anddriflyflMs the labor of get*
ting thflfl^JPg0fcto and
boats ti^pPtwo hnndr?fl^^^B
transferr^Ro the brig befo?^HHP
Then John Wilson said : "It l^Erior
rible thing to see them going down and
so many people yet on board the wreck,
settling down and burning np. I will
do all in my power to save them." He
nobly kept his word. As good a sailor
as he was a man, he came down to the
leeward of the wreck, made fast to her,
and before midnight the last man on
her deck?the captain?had passed into
the brig safely. Try to picture it. A
great ocean steamer, with water pouring
in from without to fill her up and
fire roaring within to bnrn her down ;
over four hundred lives in the balance.
Any lurch she made might have been
her last, and if she had rolled over and
sunk?what hope lor the little brig !
She did not sink just then. John Wilson
left her, a sheet of flame, and landed
his priceless cargo safe at "generous
Boston." In recognition of his courage,
humanity and good seamanship the
British government gave him a gold
watch and chain. The company to
which the Connaught belonged pre
sented him witfl $1,500; Boston added
a silver service and medals; testimonials
and subscriptions in plenty came in.
Nor were his crew forgotten in the genoral
enthusiasm. Then came the war.
Some sums granted to him were withdrawn
; property in which he had invested
his money was destroyed. He is
sixty-four years of age, is dieabled by
tailing eyesight from following his profession
; his wife is a confirmed invalid ;
all his testimonial gifts have been sold
or left iu pledge for bread, and this once
self-reliant and always^ brave and true
man is utterly destitute. Shall we not
Viiu Amn irhrdll And HftVS :
piUa|/UXOQU JUAO VfVM *v I - ? .
"This is a horrible affair, to see the sun
going down upon the wreck with sp
much good yet on board. We will do
all in our power to help him." Before
I make an appeal abroad for thisafHoted
hero, it is only fair that his countrymen
should be given the opportunity?I may
almost say the privilege?of assisting
him.
What War Will Do.
jr
The leading journals of the United
States figure that a general war in
Enrope will make business lively on
this side of the water. It will increase
the price of grain, as the grain growing
countries of the old world will be shut
ont of foreigu markets. The New York
Tribune says : In many branches of
manufacture the disturbance in Europe
would help us, either by preventing the
shipment of surplus products here, or
by increasing the demand for our products
abroad. The iron, woolen, and j
boot and shoe manufactures, with many ,
of minor importance, will be affected in '
g< eater or lesser degree.
The surplus capital of Europe must
turn more and more to seek security across
the ooean, and United States bonds must
advance. Other undoubted American
securities will be sought, and many millions
of foreign eapital will find safe employment
here. These investments and
loans will go far to stimulate our in
dustry.
There is reason to suppose that unsound
concerns will escape loss through
a geneipl and indiscriminate advanee of
stocks and bonds. European investors
have acquired a profound distrust of
most American enterprises. They are
no longer cheated by the tricks of
speculators, which fix an artificial price
on the stock board. Strong foreign demand
for securities that are known to be
of real value will only bring into clearer
light the weakness of those which enjoy
no confidence abroad.
If France, Germany or England engages
in the struggle, financial consequences
of the gravest importance may
result. If France, for example, should
be compelled to unlock its immense
storq of coin, if Germany should be
forced to abandon for a time its changes
in currency, if England should be
threatened in India or met by a foe
capable of disturbing its commerce by
maritime warfare, the effects in this
rountry might be indefinitely increased.
Bat as matters stand, a prospect of war
in Europe is a prospect of higher prices
for breadstuffs and provisions, larger
demand in sound American securities,
lower gold, and improved business.
New Use for a Head.
Robert Meyer, the foreman of the |
Grould & Carry mine at Virginia City,
was struck by a descending cage. This
accident was one of the strangest on
record. Meyer was standing in the
pump shaft, and was looking through
into the south compartment of the main
abaft, when a double decker cage and
two cars descended and struck him on
the head, and cut off his ear. Meyer's
bead stopped the ckges in their deeoent
by instantaneously oausing a slack in the
jable, and adjusting the safety catches
:o the guides. Everyone present at the <
;ime, and those c -nversant with the
abaft, express the greatest surprise that
lis neck was not broken instantaneousy.
It can only be accounted for by the
: *ct that the cages were descending very
jlowly at the time. Meyer was badly
rat not seriously hurt.
i
*
IA9IUVU iivivm
Sealskin is slowly losing ground.
All new fans are of medinm size.
Bibbed stockings are fashionable.
r Isolds, as trimmings, are again oamin^ '
in vogne. Breakfast
sqf&s of brigj^^fs are
worn again.
' For will Jaetfised for dress trimmings
in mid^?r
Beads of silver or gold are the new
necklaces in filigree work.
. " lovisible setting " is now preferred
for all jewels and gems.
Myrtle green and sky bine are com*
bined foi^vening dresses.
Armhoks of waists and polonaises are
corded again witn tine oora.
China plates now have the monogram
or initial letter in the center.
seams of polonaises and
basques*re corded with large oord.
Leader belts pointed back and front,
points laced, are quite new.
J^RTstumes with baeqnoH having Loois
All. skirts are stmggling into fashion.
Presses are cut longer on the shoulders
than they have been for some time
heretofore.
No suit is complete unless it has a
large handsome pocket on one side of
the overdress.
Silk handkerchiefs, with the border
and the inside of the same color, ace
new and pretty.
The hair is to be worn further off the
forehead this season than for some time
heretofore.
Collars and cuffs made of linen, having
a fluted raffle edged with black, are
very stylish for second mourning.
Bonnets made of white illusion, white
Spanish lace, and delicately tinted flowers,
are in favor for theaters and operas.
Many of the winter cloaks have long
pointed hoods, lined with plaited silk, '
and ornamented with a cord and tassels.
Bonnets made of rich black lace and
cardinal red silk, with feathers and flowers
to match, are exceedingly pretty for
evening wear.
Instead of elastic for fastening on
hats, small combs are used, which are
fastened to the hat by means of a safety .
pin attached to the o?mb.
English and American Tramps.
Our own English tramps, says George
Augustus Bala, are idle, worthless and
sometimes ruffianly "cadgers." Yet
they are usually, arrant cowards, far
more given to beating their womankind
than to assaulting persons of their own
sex, and destitute alike of the cunning
*.nd the resolution necessary for the execution
of a Mput up" robbery. English
tramps form a mysteriously hereditary
raoe of "gutter bloods." The
grandest names aud titles die, Be Vere
expires, Bohun fades out, Mortimer is
but a noise, and " more and most Plantagenet
vanishes ;" but the great tramp
family lives on; it has thus continued in
an unintermitting stream from oentury
to century, and has so lived among us,
and upon us, ever since the Beforma- tion.
The English tramp has ever been
a mere canting, whining, shuffling sneak.
The American tramp seems to be cast in
a far different mold. In caliber he belongs
to the mighty and the strong. He
is the horror of ldnely housewives whose
husbands are out in the fields; and
when he meets a little school maid carrying
her dinner in a basket he bids the
child, in a voice of timnder, " git out
of that," and at once appropriates and
devours the savory cakes, lu the State
of Illinois alone there was recently, it is
reported, an army of these stalwart
mendicants five hundred strong roving
in a body across tbo country, and defying
the authorities to- disperse them.
The American vagrant would, in fine,
appear to be a combination of the English
" casual" proper with the indigenous
"loafer," "plug ugly," "blood
tub," "shoulder hitter.'' and "dead
rabbit." He is the rowdy en catnpagne,
the "Bowery bhoy" writ large and ^
felonious; and the necessity which must
soon arise for devising means to repress
him will serve mournfully to convince
onr cousins that they are no longer a
new nation, and that they are beginning
to be called upon for the income tax assessed
on all established races.
A Singular Case.
At Montbeison, Franoe, not long ago,
the magistrate was called upon to adjudge
a somewhat singular case. Jean
Marie Baron, aged thirty-seven, a wellto-do
farmer of Ponclus, had for three
or four vears entertained the hallucina
tion that some of his neighbors, jealous
of his prosperity, had combined to injure
him by witchcraft. His cows fell
sick, his wheat withered, ahd he himself
had singular fits of oppression and
despoudenoy at the sight of the . objectionable
persons. He consulted
several doctors, even going to Lyons for
treatment, but as they all derided his
story, he resolved to pat in practioe the
remedy suggested by a village crone?
namely, to draw blood from each of his
persecutors. Accordingly, he armed
himself with a number of stout pins
with glass heads, hid himself near the
parish church door on a procession day,
when.the whole community would naturally
anther there, and. falling suddenly
upon his victims, planted a pin in each
with remarkable vehemence. Mr. and
Mrs. Reynaud and Miss Je&nette
Badieu complained to the police of the
assault. Baron declared, with an air of
happiness, that he was guilty ; that he
bore no ill will to the oomplainante;
tuat he had to do what he had dene, and
it proved effectual, as he and his cattle
had recovered their health. The jndge
endeavored to convince him that he had
never been " possessed," but the
prisoner retorted unanswerably that until
he bad assaulted his tormentors he
had suffered, whereas, from the very
moment that he had drawn blood, he
and his beloved cattle had enjoyed perfeet
health, so that infallibly he must in
the first place have been bewitched.
He was sentenced to fifteen days' imprisonment,
receiving his punishment
gleefully, "since," he said, "that is
not so much to undergo as the price of
one's health and lock."
# ? . ^ M