2POEV37 BOTAL
Standard and Commercial.
_________ ? - t
VOL. IY. NO. 52. BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1876. $2,00 per Ann. Single Copy 5 Cents,
T ' 1 ~ 1 1 _ .
Going: Softly.
S1. makes no moan above her fade 1 flowers,
S le will not vainly strive against her lot,
P tient she wears away the slow, sad hours,
% As if the ray they had were quite forgot;
While stronger fingers snatch away the sword
\cd lighter footsteps pass her on tho ways,
Y: (tiding submissive to the stern award
That said she must go softly all her days.
She knows the pulse is beating quickly yet,
She knows the dream is sweet and subtle '
still,
Tbat struggling from the cloud of past regret,
Keady for oonfliot live hope, joy and will;
8 J ?oon, so soon to veil the eager eyes.
To dull the throbbing ear to blame or
praise,
So soon to crush re wakening sympathies,
And teach them she goes softly all her days.
She will not speak or move beneath the doom,
She knows she had her day and fluDg her
cast?
The loeerscarce the laurel may assume,
Nor evening think the noonday glow can
last.
Only, oh, youth and love, ae in your pride
Of joyous triumph your gay notes you raise,
Throw one kind glance and word where, at your
side,
Sue creeps who must go softly all her days.
MRS. GREEN'S SON-IN-LAW.
44 Well, Sarepta, I've found out all
about them."
Mrs. Green sat herself down in front
of the fire, took off her bonnet, and shed
upon her daughter a smile of great
satisfaction.
44 Found out all about whom, mamma
?" Sarepta questioned, with sweet
demurene88.
44 Well, upon my word, you are the
most obtuse girl of my acquaintance.
When you saw me come in just now,
you understood that I'd been out walking,
I suppose ? Yes ? Well, I'm glau
you did. You know I don't often go
out walking without an object, I suppose
1 ' I'm encouraged to find that you
understand that, too. And you remember
those two young men we met twioo
Jesterday, when we went to your Aunt
ane ? Of course you do ; you needn't
answer that. Well, now, knowing that
9 I have been out, and with an object,
does it occur to you that I went to find
out all I could about these two young
men f'
It will be seen that Mrs. Green had
the gift of speech in addition to her
many other attainments. Her daughter,
too/was a fair practitioner, in her native
tongue, but on this occasion she
rr??r?lv R>iid :
" Bnt I don't see why you should
? want to find out anything about them."
44 Of course not," responded the natron.
" But if I were your daughter,
and you were my mother, you would
understand it well enough."
44 Why, what in th^world has that got
to do with it, mamma ?"
But the youug lady still kept her eyes
rather too persistently fixed upon ner
little bit of embroidery, and it is to be
feared that sue was fencing with hei
parent.
44 Yon know well enough that it has
everything to do with it," responded
Mrs. (ireeu. 44 When two handsome
young men meet us together iu the
streot, and then put themselves out of
the way to run against us again, you
don't suppose they take such pains tc
get another look at me, do you t"
44They might. I'm sure you're worth
looking at twice," responded the daughter,
very prettily.
44 That's nonsense, and you know it.
They wanted to see yon. You're young
and rather good looking, although you
are not ^together my style; and there
are not so many young and pretty girls
in this village that strange young men
are going to neglect any of them."
44 Oh, mamma! - How you talk."
441 talk like a prudent woman, and
act like one; so I went out to find out all
about those two young men. One of
" 1* 3 J ft
tiiem will ao very wen inaeeu.
" Which one is it who will do ?" inqaired
Sarepta, laughing, and beginning
now to show a little shy interest in the
subject
"That one with an Ulster overooat
on," replied the elder lady, shooting a
very sharp glance at the young one.
" Why, they both wore Uisters," put |
in Sarepta, falling into the trap with
great simplicity.
" Aha ! I thought so," chuckled the j
astute Mrs. Green. " You noticed
them a little, while they noticed you a
good deal. Well, it's the tallest one, I
mean; the one with the dark complexion
and black mustache. Charles Edgerton
his name is."
"The other one is much the best
looking and the most gentlemanly, I
think," said the daughter.
" George Merton. Oh, yes; but he
won't do at all. He is handsome, and
has plenty of talent, too ; but he has
neither money nor position. Mr. Edgerton
has plenty of both, so he's the
one that will do.
"Why, I thought"? and then Sarepta
stopped and bit her lip.
" Thought what ?"
"Nothing; only that we were doing
a rather queer thing, discussing these
two gentlemen as if they belonged to
U8."
"Queer, maybe, but prudent," and
the prudent mother withdrew to meditate
upon the advantages of a son-inlaw
with ooth money and position.
The fact goes without saying that
there is more or less wickedness in this
world. If there were not, good Mrs.
Green would have been spared the surprise,
mingled with hum liatioD, that
fell upon her that same eveniDg.
Mother aDd daughter had set themselves
down beside the evenirg lamp to
chat and sew, and to have an altogether
cozy evening, when the bell rung, and
Mr. Charles Edgerton and Mr. George
Merton were shown i. to the room.
Mrs. Green was almost astonished out
of all courtesy in contemplating the impertinence
of the young men of our
day, who go calling without waiting for
introductions. Her surprise was bv no
means lessened, but the course of her
contemplation was turned when her
y daughter showed what the girls of our
\iay are capable of, by welcoming tho
two gentlemen very serenely, and introducing
them in a very matter-of-fact
to her mother[
I
The explanation of it was that these c
young persons had met in the merry 4
summer time in an out of the way s
country nook, where Sarepta was sojourning
with a city cousin, friend of
the Messrs. Edgerton and Merton.
Mrs. Green accepted the situation
gracefully, and was pleasantly courteous I
as became so polite a lady. But when c
the call had ended, and mother and i
daughter were left again to each other's t
companionship, Sarepta listened to some f
animated remarks. f
44 A nice trick you played me !" said 1
Mrs. Green. 44 Let me go out asking s
questions*about those two men, and I
you knew all about them all the while ! I
Why didn't you tell me ?" t
14 Why, mamma, I didn't know that f
? tn loom anvthina ft Hon t i
J'JU ?auww% w J 0 ?
them. The first I knew you had found i
out all I had to tell, and more too ; so >
what was the use?" (
44 Well, you might have told me be- g
fore. And how was it you didn't recognize^them
when we met on the street?" j
441 did ; I bowed and they lifted their (
hats the first time we met them. You g
did not see them at all that time, for t
you were busy looking at Mrs. Bunce g
and her new cloak." t
44 The first time ! Did we meet them 1
three times instead of twice, then ?" i
4 41 did not oount the times, but I 1
think it must have been three." i
44 Humph ? Well, I've nothing to do e
now but to see that no trouble comes g
of all your smartness. To begin with, c
I noticed that Mr. Merton was rather g
more attentive to you this evening than g
there was any necessity for. I want 1
I you to remember that he is not the one
who will do." i
There was no reply to this injunction, t
Perhaps it was not heard, and subso- t
quent facts rendered this all the more t
probable. t
The two young men prolonged their i
stay in the village, and made frequent c
calls together at Mrs. Green's house. 1
Mr. Edgerton was all that could be de- t
sired in the way of friendly oourtesy, t
but George Merton was that, and more i
too. It became more and more apparent i
that he aimed to become the one who i
would do. a
He came often with his friend, but t
more often by himself, and one day he 1
called not on Sarepta, but upon Mrs. t
Green herself. The nature of his er- i
rand may be gathered from a remark 1
of that lady's during the conversation, t
441 am very sorry matters have gone i
so far," she said, 41 and I tried in every 5
way to prevent it. All I can do now is t
to say that I will never give my consent 1
to your marriage with my daughter. I fe
esteem you very greatly, but I long t
.-wl rv mr mind fhnf. mr RATI-in- S
>IU UC UJUUU U^/ &UJ UAAUV4 I.MMV
law must have fortune and position." f
"But, my dear madam "?
"I have had .my say, Mr. Merton, an J
nothing will ever make me say different
ly. I don't mind saying to yon that the
same question from your friend would
receive a very different answer."
George Merton went away then, and
Sarepta reoeived a little lecture from
her mother. The girl was a little pale,
but very quiet, and her mother thought
she was going to be very sensible. She
fe't a little discouraged, however, when
Sc repta said, quite in her natural voice :
" I know he is poor, and without position,
as you call it, but I will never
marry any other man as long as I live 1"
and that ended the conversation.
After this matters went on much the
same as usual, except that George Merton
came no more to Mrs. Green's house
Sarepta was a little quieter than of old, i
but altogether acted in a practical man ner,
that gave her mother very great
encouragement.
One afternoon the young lady dressed
to go out for a walk, and stood for a
time with one foot on the fender bar,
listening to her mother's talk, which ran
pretty much in this strain toward the
close :
" I haven't seen Mr. Edgerton for a
twj or three days, have you? And? t
his friend seems to have disappeared t
al:ogether. I must say it was very proper
of him not to come here after I gave
irm so decided an answer. Why, bless
my8onl! Here he is now!"
And there, sure enough, he was, step- ?
p ng leisurely in through the open door 1
of the room. He had evidently screwed I
h is couiage up, and was keeping it up N
by a little bit of bravado not quite natural
to him. His hat was pulled tight
upou his head, his step had the least
suggestion of a swagger in it, and he car- J
i ried his hands in the pockets of the *
short, odd looking jacket which he wore
j for the apparent purpose of making him J
look unnecessarily independent. *
His manner put Mrs. Green on the
oifensive, as if it were a challenge. Her *
face took on its hard, set look, her
j hands folded themselves together under '
| her apron, and she stood looking at him
j very frigidly, and failed to notice that 6
! her daughter was not so much surprised
J as she ought to have been.
| " Good afternoon, Mr. Merton," said c
: Mrs. Green, very much as if he bad 1
; been a sewing machine agent. " We 1
! were just speaking of?your friend."
"Ah, Charlie! Yes, poor fellow, he *
; has gone back to the city. He really ]
needed a longer rest, but he couldn't '
' " * *" - 1 Li- -ii- Ai J t
taKe it witnouc losing am miauuvu, uuu
he cannot afford to do that." ]
" His sitnation ? Why"? '
" Yes, you know he is a bookkeeper.
But, no; I remember now, my friend
Mrs. Garwood got our names mixed in
telling you about us." <
" I see," said Mrs. Green, in a tone 1
that implied many things. * i
"But come, dear, if you are ready ?
; we will go for our walk now," said 1
j George, in a queer, hurried way. "I <
just dropped in, Mrs. Green, to take my t
I wife out for a walk." <
" Your wife ? What f" and Mrs. <
Green sat down and waited for more ?
breath. ]
" Mamma, you will forgive us, won't i
you?" pleaded Sarepta. "Perhaps it j
j was wrong, but you were so firm, so we <
j were married yesterday." <
" Of course I forgive you, now that <
there is nothing else for me to do," I
j said the politio lady. "And if you 1
will wait a minute I'll go with you. It !
w 11 close people's mouths." <
As they all started out together, Mrs. 1
Merton said : <
" George, you ought to have told me I
about this ridiculous mistake." <
j "I know I ought, but you see, ray I
dear, I couldn't resist tbs temptation 1
>f giving your mother a son-in-law with
fortune and position,'in spite of herelf,"
he replied.
Mr. Sommerbeck's Dog.
"I love my dog," said Mr. Sommer>eck.
" Man's faithful friend; always
levoted to his master; always vigilant
n his protection ; untiring in his efforts
0 please ; docile under discipline, forgiving
in his disposition, kind and
aithful, man does not half appreciate
lim nor understand him. I have bought
1 dog, one that will in his infantile days
>e a source of unceasing mirth to us all
)y his innocent gambols, and, as age develops
his sterner qualities, will be a
aithful, vigilant guardian of our sleepng
hours. Let us love him and deal
vith him gently and tenderly, and his
very life will be devoted to our service.
Dome, Herzegovina, come ; come in and
jet acquainted with your friends."
He tied him to the back fence with a
>iece of the clothesline, and sought his
lowny couch. He had been in bed
1 ? TnVtnn o Vinnrl t\4 mnot
lUUUb liCU 1111UUICO nucu u uuni vt iuvur
inearthly import smote the air, dying
iway in a prolonged, shuddering gurgle
hat lifted every hair on Mr. Sommerx?ck's
lgpd, and emptied all the shriekng,
faintiDg women in the honse into
lis room in one wailing, hysterical torent.
Again and again the howl came
iwelling up through the closed windows,
is though it wailed out of the very walls
>f the house, then one would come
i series of choking, gurgling gasps and
isthmatic groans that were too full of
lorror to listen to without shrieking.
He dressed and took the lantern and
evolver and went out. Guided by the
errible sounds he came to where he had
ied the dog. No dog was visible, but
he rope that was stretched tight across
he top of the fence showed where he
?as. The docile animal had jumped
>ver the fence and the rope was just
ong enough to let Lis hind legs touch
he ground. As long as he could stand,
he dog could howl till he hushed the
ailroad whistles, and when his weakenng
legs buckled and let him down, the
ope tightened and shut off his wind in
i series of chokes and gasps and gurgles
hat were too awful to think about,
ffr. 8ommerbeck climbed painfully over
he fence and tried to lift the dog back
nto the yard, and as he pushed the
lowling animal over the fence, it pawed
he top of his bald head until it looked
ike a map of the Sevian war. Mr.
Jornmerbeck wished! the faithful dog at
he Centennial. Then it crawled its
lind legs down the neck of his night
ibirt, and braced its fore paws against
he fence and pushed back, and walked
ill over Mr. Sommerbeck's upturned
ace, howling all the time. Finally Mr.
Jommerbeck pushed him over and heard
lim drop with a heavy thump on the
ground. Then ne tried to climb ^ver
limself. It was a slow, painful task,
or Mr. Sommerbeck is not a light
veight, nor is he so young as he once
vas. At last he got one leg over the
op of the fence after many grunts, and
nth a great groan of satisfaction bal
? i - TT* _ 33
in cod nimseii on top. ms suaaen appearance
seemed to fill the dDg with
error, and in a flash, jnst as Mr. Somnerbeok
dropped on the inside of the
enoe, the faithful dog went ap like a
oekefc and shot out of sight on the
>ther, and recommenced his hideous
towls and gasps. Mr. Sommerbeck felt
s though he couldn't groan deep enough
lor fast enou-'h as he prepared to scale
he dreadful fence. It was discouraging
rork, but he got to the top at last,
ost his balance and went down on the
>ther side like a land slide, falling
dump on the faithful dog and killing it
o quick that the doomed animal never
vhined a protest Mr. Sommerbeck
imped slowly down the alley and up the
treet to the front gate. He got in the
louse and went to bed, and in response
o the anxious inquiries of the women
is to what was the matter, he merely
old them to pull on the clothesline in
he morning and they would find out.
She Wouldn't Speak to Him.
When a young Chicago man came
lown stairs the other morning he renembered
that his wife, who was preparing
breakfast, had not spoken to him
vhen she got up, and so he cheerfully
(aid: "Good morning, little lady."
Not a word came in reply.
" Good morning," said ho, again, in a
ligher key, thinking that she might not
lave heard him before.
" Um?'m?'m," was all that escaped
"w oooloil lino on cVia t or*f nn wilh
1ULU UC/& OC?;V>U AX^TU) wu WMV VM ?? awM
he work.
"Why under the sun don't you aniwer
me!" he exclaimed, in surprise;
what's the matter ? What have I dono
0 offend you?"
"Um?'m?'m," was still the only
lound elicited.
"Look here!" then exclaimed the
msband, as he jumped up and knocked
>ver a cup of coffee; " I don't swallow a
nouthful of this breakfast until you tell
ne what's the matter."
"What's the matter?" echoed she,
niddenly turning upon him with flashng
eyes. ADd then she continued:
John Adell Smitlison, the next time
hat I dream I see you kissing another
voman, I?I?I will leave this house?
x>o-hoo!"
A Dreaded Bandit's Death.
The killing of the desperate bandit
3hato Alejandro was characteristic, says
;he San Francisco Chronicle. He commanded
four hundred men. He took up
1 rv\ai firm at. FTnitTrilftfl. flol. Ucalde. of I
he Federals, attacked him, and after a
desperate fight, in which the Revolutionists
lost forty in killed and wound3d,
and the Federals fourteen killed and
3leven wounded, the Revolutionists fled,
ind their leader was shot through the
brain while trying to escape from ahonee
in which he had taken shelter. Ohato
llejandro, whose real name was Alejandro
Gutierrez, had been made a brigadier-general
by GeD. Diaz. On one oo3asion
he kidnapped the wealthy Don
3*ntos Degollado. He asked his victim
what he would give to be released, and
Degollado replied that he would give
svery thing in his possession. He then
banded the bandit a gold watch, a sum
Df money and other valuables. These
the wretch pocketed, and calmly taking
Dut his revol . r shot his victim through
the brain. His hands w^re red with the
bhvjd of his cnustrymen.
A Romance of Real Life.
When St. Panl was in its infancy, a
yonng blacksmith and his wife lived
near the junction of what is now North
First street and Hennepine avenue.
Not successful in business at that time,
the young husband, whose real name
was John Felix, though ho bore the
most tender affection for his young wife,
as the sequel shows, started for the far
West with the det<rmination to obtain
wealth and independence. Here he remained
until the breaking out of the
war, when he enlisted. While in the
army he met a comrade who told him of
the sad misgivings of his former wife,
and of her marriage (who, for some
reason, had never heard from him,
though he had written several letters) to
a second husband. Felix then informed
his comrade that he should never return
to bis home until he had acquired theindependent
fortune he had first unsuccessfully
striven to obtain. Upon the
close of the war he once more turned his
sorrowful footsteps toward the West,
and there soon laid the basis of that fortune
he had so long been searching for.
Starting on a ranch in Wyoming Territory,
his flock grew in number, and fortune
smiled as blandly as his ambition
could desire, and he was, most naturally,
as time passed, overcome with the desire
to visit once more the spot where
his happiest momonts had been spent.
About six months since he wrote to his
son, who at that time happened to reside
near Minneapolis, and reoeived the
letter. The boy, who was an infant at
the time of his father's departure, and
never knew him, could not understand
its meaning, and gave it to his mother,
who instantly recognized the writing,
and, with a woman's nature, her first
love so dwelt in her heart that she told
her second husband, without a moments
warning, that she oould live
with him no longer. John Felix, after
an absence of over eighteen years, returned
to St. Paul, and having - learned
that she who was once his wife was
k< eping a boarding house on First
street, immediately went thither. He
called and recognized her. He appealed
to her charity by telling her that he had
no money. She told him he was welcome
to such fare as her home afforded.
While waiting upon him he asked her
numerous questions, and finally wound
up by asking her if she ever knew a
man named John Felix. Her curiosity
being greatly aroused at having a name
pronounced she had seldom heard for
years, and divining through the mag
* > - " i-? i
netism 01 love wno me man ueiuro u?
was, she threw herself into his arms
and gave way to the joyfnl tears that
remained nnwept through all her long
waiting. John says he cried too. John
further says that he intends soon to return
to the land that has prospered him,
and where, we are credibly informed,
he is reckoned among the first of those
wealthy ranchmen who inhabit the fertile
plains.
Withdrawing Leisurely.
The Elko (Nev.) Independent tells
the following: While traveling through
Arizona in 1849 with an exploring party,
we made our camp one evening near a
canyon, the bottom of which was covered
with fine sand that had drifted from
the neighboring plains. While employed
in arranging our camp, the botanist
of the expedition, Dr. B., wandeied
some distance in pursuit of plants. He
returned shortly and reported that there
were Indians near at hand. He was as
cool as a cucumber, and didn't show any
sign of anxiety or alarm. In answer to
our hasty inquiries, he replied that
while he was engaged in examining a
fossil specimen he heard a grunt behind
him, and on looking around discovered
an Indian who had seized his gun,
which had been placed against a rock.
The Indian drew a bead on him, and in
retaliation he drew his revolver and
sighted*the Indian, retreating at the
same time toward the oanyon, which was
close at hand. Neither fired. On reaching
the canyon he walked leisurely into
A cot. nnt tfl
U1U1 P. A piuilj imiMmww.j uvo ?- ?
detel mine the possibility of danger, and
discovered two Indians and a sqnaw.
After capturing them they examined the
vicinity in which the doctor had met
with his remarkable adventure. They
found his footprints, which signified a
cautious retreat to the canyon. But
alas 1 for the frailty of human nature;
his footprints in the canyon were eight
feet apart, by measurement, and not
exactly indicative of the leisurely manner
in which he had approached the
camp. The doctor acknowledged the
corn, and remarked that that was about
as leisurely as he ever wished to walk
under similar circumstances.
Asiatic Doctors.
The first care of the Sart physician is
to study your general appearance and
ask you about your temperament. He
has learned in the " Tukhpatul Muminiu,"
the most common medical book
here, that you must belong to one of
four classes, and his treatment of^our
malady is governed accordingly, wnen
tie has combined your symptoms with
your temperament, he will pull a bag
out of his pocket, or untie the scarf
which serves him for a girdle, and open
an assortment of drugs in twisted bits of
paper, perhaps tasting and smelling to
find the right ones, and having chosen
the proper medicine, will give you the
usual directions about doses and diet.
The medicaments employed by central
Asiatic physicians are, in general, very
simple, being in jnost part vegetable
substances; but few animal matters and
minerals being used. They are usually
taken simply in the form of powders
and decoctions, and when a mixed medicine
is used, the physician delivers the
substances to the patient and allows him
to mix them for himself. This not only
saves the physician trouble, but, in a
certain way, soothes the suspicious feelings
of the patient, who migh'. imagine,
in case he did not immediately improve,
that he had been poisoned by the doctor.
The Popes.?The whole number of
Popes to Pius IX. is 257. Of these 104
have been Romans and 103 natives of
other parts of Italy, fifteen Frenchmen,
nine Greeks, seven Germans, five Asiatics,
three Africans, two Dalmatians,
three Spaniards, one Hebrew, one Thra!
dan, one Dutchman, one Portuguese,
i one Caudiot, and one Englishman*
Written by Itself.
My life is shortly told. My first impression
was the sensation of a tremendous
bnt short squeeze, which instantly
awoke me into life and thought. I was
now spread out to the light, and a glow
of intelligence completely pervaded me.
My ideas were at first new, multifarious
and confused?nations, politics, courts,
wars, speeches, merchandise, fightings,
feasts, marriages, ditties, poetry, etc.,
etc., made up all my thoughts, which
were various and mixed. I lay in a
silent state of wonder and great amazement.
I soon found that I was but one of a
very large family, and was ushered into
this curious world at the same time.
Our whole familj was laid in regular
order in a pile; my situation, being one
of the first born, was particularly uneasy,
damp, and uncomfortable. I had
a silent, intuitive longing wish to get
into the world, which was at last gratified.
Morning came, and I was carefully
folded and laid, Moses-like, in a basket,
by a boy who was called the carrier, and
borne into th street. The said carrier
I soon found was an object of interest
and desire. He was soon accosted by an
elderly looking man, with threadbare,
rusty breeches.
44 Have you a spare paper this morning,
my boy ?"
44 No, sir," was the short reply, and
he trudged on with us, muttering:
44 Not as you know on, old gripes. You
are the same chap that promised me
some coppers for the paper the other
morning, and ha n't paid me yet; you
are too stingy to take the paper?you
won't get another from me, I guess."
My brethren were now fast leaving
me, being deposited at their proper destination.
At length my turn came, and
1 was tucked in the crevice of a shop
door. The first sample of the kind was
not at all alluring. I had not been long
in my new situation, when a reluctant
early comer, swinging a key in his hand,
wistfully eyed me, and casting a look
about him, feloniously seized me, and
thrust me into his pocket. My rightful
owner, by virtue of. advance pay, being
in sight, hailed and arrested the pilferer,
and with threats compelled him to relinquish
his prize. He entered his
store, and I soon found that I was the
first object of his attention. After
hastily drying me by the fire, in which
process I narrowly escaped conflagration,
he ran over me, and fixed his eyes
upon sales at auction, advertisements,
etc. I was then more particularly examined,
and dismissed with condemnation.
44 Nothing but foreign news?congress
and cabinet?love stories, and accidents
by flood and field. A newspaper
should be a commercial report, one side
at least should be devoted to prices current."
I was then pettishly thrown
upon the counter, but was soon in requisition.
A boy came in, with a
44 Please to lend me your paper for a
few minutes, iust to look at the ship
news ?"
The reqnest was reluctantly granted,
with something abont the plague of paper
borrowing, and a determination to
stop it. I was soon borne to a neighboring
house. The good old woman, whose
husband was at sea, eagerly sought the
ship news, but was quite disappointed
in her search.
" How negligent and careless these
printers are," said she; " not a word of
intelligence of the Wind Bird; they
print of Poland and poetry, and fill their
papers with advertisements, and that is
all they care ahtfut."
Miss now took her turn. Sue sought
the stories, poetry, and marriages,
which in half an hour were all devoured
with a " wonder that they put anything
else in the paper." An elderly lady
now took me, who, adjusting her spec
tacles, surveyed me a little while, and
declared me a " terrible uninteresting
paper?hardly a column of dea':hs, and
not more than fifteen or twenty murders
and accidents."
In this way I passed through all the
hands of the family, and after being well
soiled and somewhat torn by the little
ones, was sent home. For three whole
days I got no rest, but was continually
borrowed and abused. At the end of
this period I was supplanted by a new
faoe, and was then discarded and thrown
aside liko all servants when they have
become useless. I was, however, again
resuscitated, and employed as a wrapper
to soihe merchandise, and sent intc
the country. Ihere I again became the
1 ' 1 ? * -- *Ann^a nl
ODjCCt U1 iliLtJICOlj >VCUb liuc xuuuuu V4
tbe neighborhood, and was a "nine
days' wonder."
I am now qnietly hanging up in b
shattered condition, in a farmer's kitch
en, from which I have written this brie]
memoir. I have seen much of the world,
and learned that mankind are unreason
able and ungrateful, and that in a work
of great variety of tastes and wishes ii
is impossible to please all.
The Boy and the Hot Chestnats.
A small urchin just large enough U
wear pants, and probably with his firs
pair on with pockets, stepped up to t
street stand and purchased five oenta
worth of hot roast chestnuts. The chest
nut vender, pitying his tender years, as
sisted his customer to empty the meas
ure into his little pockets. Soon th<
nuts began to feel warm?they becam<
uncomfortable?they burn, and the lit
tie fellow could stand it no longer anc
commenced to cry ana aauoe up aui
down with p.'in. The chestnut vende]
tried to extract the nuts, but his handi
were too large to get into the pockets
The cries and antics of the sufferer in
creased. The Italian became excited
and with commendable ingenuity seizec
the boy by the heels and shook him
head down, until the chestnuts rollec
out on the sidewalk. With tears of joj
the boy went in search of his mother.
The Burning of the Dead.?The ere
mation furnace at Washington, Pa.
erected by Dr. Lemoyne, for the pur
pose of cremating bodies after death, ii
finished, and two sheep were cremated
The experiment proved satisfactory ii
every respect, no scent or smell escap
ing, as expected there #ould be. The;
are now awaiting cremation of i
human corpse.
MILK AND BUTTER.
Oeieriptln of a Delaware Coanty (New
Terlc) Dairy Farm.
Mr. Willard, in - the Rural New (
Yorker, gives the following description j
of a dairy farm in Delaware county,
New York : <
Daniel McMnllen, whom we met at ,
the Delhi fair, has a fine farm of 240 .
acres about one mile east of Delhi, 100 ,
of which are flats and are devoted to ,
meadows and grain raising, about forty ,
acres are in timber, and the balance of \
the farm is in pasture. The soil on the ,
flats is a clay loam, but the uplands are ,
gravel and red slate. The course of ,
cultivation on the flats is to turn over ,
the sod and put to corn, and the second j
year a crop of oats is raised and the land j
seeded to grass. The average jield of j
coru is about fifty bushels to the acre (
and that of oats from fifty to sixty t
bushels. All the grain raised on the ,
farm is fed to stock. The cows are j
grades, being a cross of Jersey and \
Ayrshire. Firat the native or common ,
stock of the country is crossed with a \
thoroughbred Ayshire bull, and then (
these grades are crossed with a thor- ,
oughbred Jersey bull, and the reeult is }
an animal that will yield on an average I,
from 175 to 200 pounds of butter per I]
year. Mr. McMullen says that the ,
average of bis whole herd for some }
years past has not been less than 175 ]
pounds of butter. The cows do not get i
any grain during the season of pasturage; ]
but as grass begins to depreciate they ]
are fed sowed oorn, and for this pur- j
pose from three to four acres are raised j
every year. The sowed oorn usually <
lasts from five to six weeks, when the j
cows go upon the afterfeed. Mr. ]
McMullen says he has experimented by |
feeding sour milk and middlings?say i
about six quarts of milk and two quarts j
of middlings to each cow per day ; but ^
he finds as much milk and of as good j
quality can be made from sowed corn as ,
from the above. The sour milk is now j
fed to hogs and calves, ten of the former ]
and fifteen of the latter being kept. <
About one ton of corn meal is used in j
connection with the sour milk, the meal ;
being cooked for the hog-% but not for
the calves, lhe fifteen oalves get from ;
four to five quarts of meal mixed with (
the milk daily, and in this way very fine i
calves are raised. Some of the calves <
this year, when fattened, have been sold i
for the New York market at three and (
one-half oents per pound, live weight, j
and have averaged $8 per head and up- ]
ward. I
The milk in this dairy is set in Jewett i
pans, and the aim is to reduoe the tern- ,
perature to from sixty-two to sixjy-fivo |
degrees Fah. The milk remains in the 4
pans from thirty six to forty-eight hours, <
acoording to the state of the weather? 1
the less time in hot weather?when it is 1
skimmed. The churning is done in the 1
morning, in a dash chum, and the but i
ter washed, worked and salted in the 1
usual manner and packed in pails and
firkins. This year he oommenoed shipping
butter in pails at forty-four to
forty-five cents per pound, and the price
run down in July to thirty cents. Since
4>1,A Vinftai* hftfl hflftU held.
blldV VUV MUVWJk m--nn - ,
There were some remarkably good
batter cows shown at the Delhi fair,
among the most notable of which were
the thoroughbred Jerseys belonging to
Edward Edgerton. One oow ont of this
herd, five years of age, dropped a calf
on the ninth of Febrnary last, and from
the twelfth of that momth to the first of
Jaly she gave 3,748} pounds of milk,
thirteen and one-half pounds of which,
on an average, made one pound of but
ter. She produoed during the 141 days
281 pounds and ten ounces of butter,
and her calf sold for $50. Since the
first of Jaly her average of milk has
been twenty pounds per day. The feed
of this oow during the season has been
as follows: Up to the twelfth of May
she got hay, and in addition three quarts
i of corn and oat meal per day, the mixture
being in equal parts. After the
twelfth of May she was fed nothing but
, grass. A sister of this oow was also
shown at the fair, which has produoed
i on an average a pound of butter from
fifteen pounds of milk. When we con'
sider that a fair average herd will yield
only at the rate of 175 to 200 pounds of
i bntter per head daring the season, the
i difference between a good and an averi
age oow, it will be seen, is sufficient to
make an important differenoe on the
> profit side of the ledger.
I *
f
? From the North Pole.
i The steamer Alert of the British Arc.
tie expedition arrived at Valencia, being
I the first land made since leaving the
frozen regions. She parted company
! with the steamer Discovery in the AtianI
tic. Progress to the north pole was
t found to be impracticable. Captain
Nares reports that no land could be discovered
to the north of the highest latitude
reached, namely, eighty-three deg.
twenty min., but in other respects the
expedition was successful. The Alert
> has gone to Queenstown, and Captain
[. Nares to London. All are well.
, The Alert amd Discovery left Port
? Foulke on July 29, 1875, and entered
. the ice off Cape Sable. After a severe
. and continuous struggle they reached
the north side of Lady Franklin bay,
m,">? "Diu/vwprv was left in winter
} VT UU&U VUV
^ q oarters. The Alert poshed on and
reached the limit of navigation on the
j shore of the Polar sea. The ice varied
I in thickness, being in some places 160
r feet deep. President Land does not
} exist. The Alert wintered in latitude
eighty-two deg. twenty-seven min. The
j, son was invisible 142 days, and temperature
the lowest ever recorded was
| experienced. A detachment with sledges
was dispatched northward. It was ab|
sent seventy days. Another party rounded
. Gape Colombia, the northernmost part
of America, and traced 220 miles westward
from Greenland, and also explored
far to the eastward. These sledge par
ties met with no game, and suffered
, from scurvy. Hans Peterson died from
frost bite. John Porter of the Alert,
9 and James Hans and Obarles Paul of
. the Discovery died on the sledging exl
pedition.
No Esquimaux were seen, nor were
jr any icebergs met with beyond Cape
a Union. The expedition experienced
great difficulties in returning,
Lire At Brignion.
It would be quite impossible for anybody
to feel dull in Brighton, says a
World correspondent. There is not
only the long road or esplanade in front
of the sea, so full of life and character,
but there are also two piers running out
into the sea?one of them nearly 1,200
feet in length and 140 feet in width.
On this latter pier people are lounging
from sunrise to sunset?ladies take their
werk, or sit and read there; men go and
smoke and look over the papers, and a
rery exoellent band plays there two or
three times a day. There are little
ihops and refreshment-rooms on this
pier, and the upper end of it is well
screened from the winds by sheets of
plate glass at the sides. A more comfortable
spot for idling aways a leisure
hour cannot well be imagined. It is
just like being on the deck of a magnificent
ship on a fine day, with sea and
sky of a radiant blue, and not a movement
of the waters to disturb the
feeblest of travelers. From this pier a
magnificent view is obtained of the *
- - - * - ? ? ?i.
esplanade and the city at the bacic, wnue
to the east the high cliffs and the ridge
the South Downs give a picturesque
uid varied appearance to the scene. It
must not be supposed that nature has
.ione everything for this place and man
nothing. The line of the esplanade
would long since have been encroached
ipon by the sea, as the road at Long
Branch is every winter, if a substantial
vail of concrete had not been built to
keep back the enemy. Over ?100,000
tiave been spent on this wall alone. It
is twenty-three feet thick at the base,
ind three teet at the top. On the " East
CJliff," which stands higher than the
main part of Brighton, an i consequently
has a slope from the edge of the road
k> the sea, green lawns have been made,
(rifch well kept walks running through
hem. In short, nothing is left undone
prhich is calculated to increase the attractiveness
of Brighton; and thispolioy
on the part of the inhabitants has oroved
to be a paying one, for the value of
house property has gone up immensely
ot late years, and now you have to pay
more for a good house at Brighton than
fer a similar house in London.
The great drawback te the plaoe, in
my opinion, is the beach, which consists
of hard, round stones, or shingle,
and is, therefore, impracticable for
walking or riding. Hence, I do not consider
Brighton a good place for children.
They like to dig and roll about
in the sand all ^ay, and here von oould
cot collect a spoonful of sand if yon were
to walk from Kemp Town to Howe. In
this respect Brighton presents a great
contrast to those "vulgar" but most
healthy and beautifully situated watering
places, Bamsgate and Margate.
child who is told that he is going to the
sea side, and duly provides himself with
the indispensable outfit of spade and
pail, and then finds thatthere is no sand,
thinks the whole plaoe a " humbug "
and cries to be taken home. Thus
Brighton would probably be a very unpopular
plaoe with the juveniles if it
were not for one ' institution " which
has oompletely redeemed its character
in their eyes, and which most of our
readers have doubtless heard or read of
as "the Aquarium."
An African King's Reception.
Colonel C. C. Long, of the Egyptian
army, now visiting with his family
friends in St. Louis, gives the following
account of his reception at the court of
King M'tesa, to whioh he had penetrated
with two attendants only: My
reoeption by this strange and mysterious
king was unique. Covering the hilltops
that characterize the mountainous districts
of the lake regions were thousands
of the people of Uganda assembled to
weloome " the Great White Prinoe," as
they called me. King M'tesa, surrounded
by his courtiers and harem, as I arrived,
sent a messenger to ask me to appear
before him and show him the
strange animal upon which I was
mounted. I was riding the first horse
that had ever been seen iu Uganda. At
a quickened pace advancing toward the
king and courtiers tbey fled precipitate*
1 ' ? - ? '''a T tnminff mv
iy neiurt) mo, nunc 0 ?^
horse, regained the hill from which I
had descended, and, throwing my foot
from thejsfcirrup,in the act of dismounting,
I was surprised to see the people
scatter in every direction in dismay. I
learned from the interpreter that they
had supposed, up to thAt moment, that
I and the horse were one animal?that I
was a kind of a centaur. I was presented
the next day to the king?a tall,
graceful man, dressed in a flowing Arabic
robe, bound at the waist by a girdle
to which a scimetar was suspended, and
with sandaled feet, who eyed my horse
with affrighted glance and retreated toward
his throne. Prostrate bodies covered
the entrance and floor of the hut.
It was here that the king held audienoe
with his different sheiks and obiefs, and
the heads of the different branches of
his government The ceremony ended
in'a slight inclination of the head of the
king to his messengers, who, unrolling
from their heads neatly bound oords,
threw them aronnd the necks of the assembled
throng at the door, and dragged
them, holloaing and struggling, away to
an executioner, who, as the fancy struck
him, had them poinarded or choked to
death, or had their brains dashed out This
is a sacrifice which is made to all
African kings.
One Way to be Miserable.
If you want to be miserable think
constantly about yourself, your woes
and your cares, your trials and your
tribulations, pity yourself for the troubles
you must bear and the evils that afflict
you. Magnify every ill, see no comfort
or blessing in the path of life stern destiny
has planted your feet in. And If
you want to make your friends miserable,
too, keep your sad fate ever before
them; forget that they may have bitter
trials of their own, and insist upon entertaining
them with a recital of your
peculiar troubles, and seek for their
constant sympathy and condolence. You
will aooomplish your amiable purpose bv
this course; but before long you will
find yourself your only sympathizer, for
your friends will vote you an unmitigated
bore, and seek more congenial society,
avoiding yours like the pestilence.