The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, January 06, 1875, Image 1
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TRIBUNE.
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VOL. I.?NO. 7. BEAUFORT. S. ..? .JANUARY 6. 1875. $2.00 PER ANNUM. '
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The flashing lighthouse l>eacou paleB before
The ruddy IiarveHt-nioou'H iiitenser ray,
Tbat bathes, and changes into sparkling ore
Its stones of granite gray.
ltound the tall brigs the greedy ripple lrfps,
As with tlio ebbing tide they softly swing ;
A shore-belated sea-bird slowly flaps
His strong-plumed, dusky wing.
Tho pier lights, imaged on tho waters, melt
To silver pillars, such as visions show.
Of palaces whero fabled Caliphs dwelt
In legends long ago.
A single boat steals down the moonlit track,
Through the still night its oar-strokes echc
i?r ;
Fringed, with cloft light, the outline sharph
black
Heaven on the harbor bar.
What Btrangc freight till a it V Yonder lieavj
nail
Covers Home form of blurr'd and shapelest
dread ;
Undo is the pall, but fitted well too veil
The ocean's outcast dead.
_ . His name, hia Fiistory ? Vain it were to guess,
But short to sum : a waif, a mystery,
Death's ir.ocking gloss upon life's loveliness :
A secret of the sea.
JANE FAIRBANKS *S HEROISM.
A Storv of Christians Kve.
Lust Christmas eve I sat iu the little
Parnassus theater, with u sense of conscious
virtue pervading every fiber of my
being because I was there with Paul
Lenox, dramatic critic, listening to an
intensely classic tragedy, instead of al
the Temple, where I secretly longed tc
bo, and gazing at seventy-tive scantilj
robed fairies, singling out of tune and
standing on one foot in perfoct unison.
I yawned for the sixty-third time during
the wait between the fourth and fiftli
acts, and wondered wliat kept Lenoi
awake, when I was startled by a deep
sigh from that usually quiet person.
" She's very lovely," said lie, dropping
his opera glass and turning away hit
eyes from a lady in a private box, al
whom he liad l?een attentively staring.
'' I wonder if she remembers where slit
. was, Christmas eve, seven years ago ?"
"Where was she?" I asked, but jus!
then the prompter's bell rang, and Leuoa
knit his critical brows and became
strictly attentive to the exits and, entrances,
the inflections and gestures ol
the minor actors, who were to the besl
of their ability befogging the luster ol
the " star's " genius by a cloud of piteous
blunders. Not being a critic nvyself,
and not having any responsibility in regard
to the formation of public opinion,
I entirely neglected the play, and de
voted myself to gazing assiduously at the
lady who had effected the miracle of enchaining
the attention of woman-hating
Paul Lenox, and of forcing a complimentary
adjective from lips little used tc
praise the fair sex. She was, as he luul
8ml, lovely, and looking at the clear cul
handsome face, and remembering Lenox's
last words, I tried to find in its lines
sjuio suggestion tliat would reveal to me
f.lin mvflfi?rv pmiAAnlp/1 in ln'o loaf wo?ila
Where lmit she 8]>cnt Christmas evo,
seven years ago ? I queried, mentally
but neither the proud, sensitive mouth,
nor the frank, fearless eyes told anj
tales. I whispered the question tic
Lenox, receiving only a savage look foi
my pains, and I renewed my questioning
gaze, continuing it until the green cur
tain descended, when I attacked him
with eager questions on the subject.
" If you want mo to tell you anything,'
said he, shortly, " come back to the
office and wait till I've written up thif
tiling; then I'll talk; now I want tt
think."
So I went down to the office of th<
Trumpet and sat in an atmosphere of ci
gar and pipe smoke, and listened to an
immense amount of editorial cynicism or
everv subiect in the universe, enrinnsli
tit variance with the enthusiastic leaden
in process of evolution, and then founc
myself walking up town with Lenox and
hearing the story of Jane Fairbanks'!
Christmas eve adventure.
The night before the Christmas o]
1807, said Lenox, Jane Fairbanks founc
herself in the woods with a boy, and, tc
the best of her knowledge and belief, fiv<
miles from any human habitation. Tin
causes of this rather uncomfortable po
sition were feminine obstinacy and sev
eral railroads.
Twelve hours before she was at Pun
Orovo Academy, safe and happy ; bu
suddenly inspired with a wish to eat hei
Christmas dinner at home, she had lef
that scholastic retirement, and committee
herself, without any escort, to the tendei
mercies of the railway system of Ameri
ca. which, she savs. consists nrinoinalb
of branches and junctions, and is ofrf
oered by fiends who incessantly shriel
" Change cars !" As well as can be as
certoined by a carefid collation of he
account and six " railway guides" whicl
flatly oontradict each other in every par
ticular, she made only five mistakes ii
seven hours' traveling, which reflect
great credit upon her coolness, but at o'clock
she found herself eleven mile
from home standing on the platform o
a lonesome little railway station, am
? looking at a fast fleeting "express,'
which she had fondly fancied was ai
"accommodation," and by means o
which she had meant to complete he
homeward journey.
" I don't care,' she said, defiantly, t
the station master, who had kindly bu
feebly waved a flag in the vain endeavo
to attract the attention of the oonducto
of the express, who, guessing the stat
of affairs, had made derisive gesture
and refused to pauso.
"I don't care," she repeated, as h
smiled feebly and depreoatingly, am
k
) men lmtntea by Ins silence, which I i
seemed to insinuate slight contempt on '
; the ability of woman to understand rail- i
1 roads, said, " I'll walk it."
" It's rather far?for a lady," said the ! i
station master, gently ; "and vou'll be
j afraid ; and," he added, officially, " you
musn't walk on the track."
. " It isn't too far for me," she said,
! boldly, " and 1 sha'nt widk on the track;
I shall walk beside it. And I am not j
j afraid ; at least, shan't be if?if you can i
lend me a boy." j <
" Well," said the station master, look- j j
ing about, as if he kept a 1k>v in each !
pigeon-hole of his desk, and the stock
had unaccountably disappeared when
> most needed. "I haven't any, just
now ; hut there's Jolmnv Tweed. He
r would like the job, and his mother will ]
like to have him keep out of mischief for i
one night."
r As it appeared, upon questioning, 1
; mat joiinny iweeu was about fourteen 1
years old, very strong of liis age, and '
' otherwise well adapted to protect a '
solitary female on a night pilgrimage <
along a railroad track, Miss Banks de- '
cided to engage his sendees for that
purpose, and at six o'clock she and '
Johnny left the little station and walk- 1
ed oft' bravely, followed by a caution '
from tlxo station master to look out for 1
the ten o'clock express, which was the i
only train they would meet.
The lady rather liked the adventure. '
The air was clear and cold, she was <
young ami strong, and loved the exercise
of walking; and her companion, after his 1
i boyish baslifulness was dissipated, was j
- entertaining to an unexpected degree. '
She found herself amused and interested
[ in his stories of boyish naughtiness, *
i and, school teacher though she was, she
; could not help sympathizing with liis t
> wicked little plans for circumventing t
r the pedagogue to whose unfortunate Jot 1
[ it fell to subdue the ambition of the j
youthful Tweed in regard to base-ball,
r pugilism and skating, and turn it into ]
i the peaceful paths of geometry, ancient
: history and Latin. " I wish I taught in <
t a boys' school," thought Miss Fair- ]
banks ; " girls are dreadfully tuiue," and t
> in listening to the epic of Johuny's t
1 contests, the time passed so swiftly 1
; that she could hardly believe her eyes '
when they reached the little station t
s which stood half-way between her start- i
' ing point and her destination. The ]
; building was closed and dark, and i
: Johnny, who carefully inspected the in- f
i terior through three different windows, t
. reported that the " stingy old tiling had 1
[ put out the fire." f
t " Well, what of it V asked Miss i i
f Fairbanks, coolly. j <
i "Well, if he hadn't," said Johnny, ; ?
" I'd have crone in and cot warm. I <
know a window that he always leaves i
unlocked, and | the. door only fastens f
with a night-latch, and we would*liave i
had a jolly rest. But the minute the ]
last accommodation goes by, old Hicks 1
disconnects his telegraph wires, and t
puts out his lire, and goes home, and ^
if your rich aunt was dying, and they <
wanted to telegraph to you from the >
city to come and get your name down !
in her will, they couldn't do it. Come i t
along."
Miss Jane came, and for the next mile ! 1
they walked in silence, Johnny sulky I t
with regret for the rest of wliieh he had i 1
; been defrauded, and Miss Fairbanks,
i who was gradually growing weary, nl- ]
' though she would rather have died than i
> acknowledged it, entertaining some ]
' slight nervousness regarding that down ]
express, although it was not due for three
hours. It miglit come a little early, she
i thought, and whiz around a curve with a
greedy shriek, and rush over them and
leave only what the newspapers would
> call their "mangled corpses." She
i dreamily inmgined the accounts of the
> affair in those same papers, and the
family conversations over the "mangled
> corpses," and wondered what the ofliciat
ing clergyman would tind to say about
i the dear brother and sister departed, if
i the body should be in several fragments;
r and then she shivered, aud was conscious
i n l*1 t i i- i ?
- ui a tnruac ui ItJiltU W11UI1 JOIlllIiy lllM^r- I j
I rupted lier reverie -w ith a startled whin- '
I per of " What's that ?"
? Miss Fairbanks looked forward. At
the point at which she stood, the road
f ran through a deep cutting, anil about a
I hundred rods before her was a eurvo so
> short that in the dim twilight it seemed
5 as if a wall extended across the truck.
5 The embankments were high and steep,
- and the leafless tree, which waved upon
their summits leaned together and almost
shut out the sky, so that it seemed as if
s the travelers were walking along a tunnel
t faintly lighted from the roof. Half-way
r betweon them and the curve was a light,
t a strong bright glare, placed half up the
1 bank, and clearly illuminating the track
r for some yards in either direction. Miss
- Fairbuiks noticed how the rails, which
1 seemed faint and black lines where she
- stood, crow clearer and brighter as her
? glance followed their course in the direc
tion of tho light, and how as they came
r near to its clear brilliancy they ^rdually
i assumed a glow, until, close to it, they
- appeared to be almost red hot, and gliti
tered brightly. But what was tluit
a mound just beyond the light, and what
4 were those firefly specks dancing
" swiftly over it, and what did it mean (
f Johnny answored her mental question
I almost as soon as it was formed.
" Somebody's trying to throw the train
a off the track," said he, in a whisper,
f " Look at the pile of things they've
r heaped up. What'll we do ?
" I don't know," said Miss Fairbanks,
o dragging him close against the embankt
ment where the shadows were thickest,
r and clinging to him as if he were hor last
r hope.
o " I've got a pistol," said Johnnv, diss
playing a battered firearm, well 'known
to the cats of his native town. " Would
e it be a good plan to creep up and threatd
en 'em, and then while they were?were
stupefied with terror, you know, to bind ;
'em hand and foot, and then signal to
the approaching engine ("
Miss Fairbanks looked at the pistol
and at its young owner, and the combi
nation of the two, with the terrified stupefaction
thut they were expected to i
produce, was so immensely ludicrous
that her sense of fun overcame her ter- .
ror and restored her self-possession.
" I wouldn't do that," she said, so- ;
herly. " You might be obliged to kill
one or two of them, and just think of
going through the world with the memo
rv of a murder u{>on your soul."
"It wouldn't be murder," said Johnny, I
" but justifiable homicide. I guess I'd j
better go."
" Stop," said Miss Fairbanks, iu her
most authoritative fashion. " Stay here, j
and let me think."
Johnny obeyed, but cocked the re- .
loubtablepistol, and stared intently up
the road. The men who were piling vari
ous obstructions upon the track evideutr
meant that their work should not In?
one in vain, for although n dozen rails
were already artistically flung together,
they had ascended the embankment and
were trying to pry a large rock from its
l>ed jto add to the pile. Johnny could
liear their voices as they spoke to each
>tlier, and inwardly cliafed at liis en- 1
forced inaction, but consoled liimself by !
reflecting that, as he was protecting a !
lady, nobody could possibly call him j
jowardly, no matter what happened.
"Johnny!" said Miss Fairbanks, so |
iharply and suddenly that he fairly 1
lumped, " how far oft* is the nearest sta- j
iou at wmcu una express stops :
44 Youth, ma'am? Four miles," said
Johnny.
" We couldn't climb the embankment !
ind go round anil come down on the j
rack again, and get to the station in
ime to stop the train there, could we?" '
41 Hardly," said Johnny.
44 What shall we do {" asked Miss I
Fairbanks again.
Johnny ardently urged the advantages
if his plan of intimidation, and Miss I
Fairbanks was half inclined to allow him
o curry it out. Villains, she reflected, !
lrawiug her knowledge from several j
oxt-books on moral philosophy, :
14 specially lulnpted to yoimg ladies' j
leininaries," were always cowardly, and !
vheii Johnny appeared to them these |
particular wretches would, doubtless, 1
:un away, and there would lie no blood- ,
died. Just as she liad decided to allow '
:he young man to enter upon his pliilan- h
hropic and murderous enterprise, the ;
stone wliich the men had beeu endeavor- \
ng to loosen yielded to their ettbrts and |
iiune down, bringing with it a great cloud i
if dirt and several smaller rocks, and
?xtinguisliing the light. The men burst |
nto profanity, audible even at the dis- j
once at which Miss Fairbanks stood, and
jeemiug, to her, sufficiently flery to re- [
tindle the extinguished luminary, but j
they consoled themselves with assuring j
acli other tluit the thing was safe any i
vay, mid then came rapidly along the
ipposite emlmnkment towards the spot
vhere the lady and boy were standing.
44 Oh," said she, 44 tliere've coming
his way.
"Never you mind," he replied,
,4 tliey won't see us, aud we'll go up
:lie road and stop the engine as soon as j
they pass.
On come the two men, swinging their '
lanterns and talking with a carelessness j
which astonished Miss Fairbanks, who
liad never before realized what utter I
loneliness may prevail within a few
miles of the city, and what deeds of
darkness may be done in safety almost
within sound of the church-bells of the
metropolis. With one impulse she and
Johnny shrank close to the embankment i
und listened.
" Old president will wish he hadn't j
discharged me so sudden, I reckon,"
said one.
"You're sure he'll lie ou the train,"!
asked the other.
" Oh, yes ; lie is sure to go home at .
Christmas. They won't relish their din- i
uer in that stuck-up house, to-morrow, I ;
guess. 'Twill do tliat tall son of his j
good, I faucy, to liave to earn liis own
bread and butter, instead of keeping his |
hands white at Harvard. They say that j
nothing but the old man's pluck keeps
the road alive ; his whole fortune is in
ir, and if he should die the whole thing
will go up, and that conceited fop won't
n?Tr ib i>nuv.
Those "were the last words that the listeners
heard, for the speakers took their
way along a lane tliat turned off at right i
angles from the track, and their lan- i
terns soon disappeared in the darkness. i
Miss Fairbanks and Johnny run swift- !
ly up the rood. There was no eliance
that their feoble strength could remove [
the huge mound of rails and earth and j
rocks, and a rapid cross-examination re- i
vealed the fact that Johnny's means of :
" signaling" were of the vaguest de- {
scription and utterly impracticable without
the aid of daylight.
Miss Fairbanks wrung her hands and i
Johnny half whimpered. Suddenly 1
?1 _X .1 X ? 1 / X
hub Huirieu w u?r leei.
"Didn't you tell me there was a
telegraph office in that last station ?"
she asked.
"Yes," said Johnny, wonderingly,
" but the man ain't tliere ; so that's no
good."
"And didn't you say you could get
in," said Miss Fairbanks, swiftly pinning
up her short dress and tightening
her boot lacingB.
" Yes," said Jolmny, still more bewildered.
"Come," said she, and started swiftly ;
back along the road, at a run, followed
by Johnny. To this day, Master Tweed |
entertains a profound respect for Miss j
Fairbanks, on the ground that she " can 1
run without making you think of a'
oow," in which characteristic she differs
from all the ladies with whom he
is acquainted, and he cftndidly owns:
that he did not find it easy to keep ;
pace with her along tlie track, and that ;
when they reached the little station he j J
was more exhausted than she. In fact,
when they had effected an entrance to
the building, he hail just breath enough ?
left to peevishly inquire what she meant i:
to do, while she, tliauks to her long
training in the gymnasium, was toler- !
ably cool. ,
" I waut a match," said she, "to light
the gas."
" There ain't no gas," said Johnny. j
"To light the lamp, then. Stop; how |
mauy matches have you ?"
" One," said Johnny, searching liis
i>dckets. '' If my mother let me smoke
'd have more, but matches ain't no good
to me, you see."
" Find the lamp first, then," said she;
" we can't risk the match."
Johnny found the lam]) while she tix?k
off her gloves, lighted it, and then
again inquired: " Wliat are you going
to do ?"
"Telegraph," said she, shortly, sitting
down at the operator's desk.
" Telegraph! You !" said he.
"Precisely," said she; I learned at
OCI1UU1. I
The next three minutes, wlie says, gave t
her first gray hairs. Would they notice f
her signal at the office in the great city j
so many miles off, or would they be too n
busy with listening to the messages from 1
more important stations, and would her r
petition for help be inaudible < Would c
they be able to signal along the line of t
her own town, where she knew that the e
telegraph office was open all night, and t
have a messenger sent to the railway sta- f
tion in time to stop that train which was s
traveling swiftly along the line to sure p
destruction, bearing that president whose i
" whole fortune was in the line, and with- n
out whom the whole thing would go up." j
Would Christmas l>e a day of sorrow to y
the loving hearts wlxieli were waiting for t
the many men and women on that train, <]
or would it l>e made a day of tliauksgiv- p
ing for danger escaped ? Again and fc
again she made her signal slowly and f
clearly, and at last the answer came, I;
evidently given by iui operator with
plenty of time, and some surprised ill- I:
humor: li
44 What on earth do you want {" \ c
Hack went the answer, '' Stop the ex- J
press train on the Southern rood. Plot li
to kill the president." I
The answer was prompt: "Send a 1
message off immediately." Ten minutes c
after came another message. 14 Have re- 2
eeived a telegram from Creysville. Man c
gone down to the station. Train will be 4
stopped. Tell us about it." ,1
But the telegraph operator at the cen- ] c
tral station was racked with the pangs of ; s
curiosity for hours, for Miss Fairbanks I f
fainted, aud Johnny did not know the :
telegraphic alphabet, and was slightly
afraid of the apparatus, having vague ! i:
ideas as to its mmhilitipa of " rroinrr I 1.
olf," ftutl when she recovered, the oil in c
the lump was exhausted, and she did not I
care to try to signal in the dark, and was c
too nervous to do so intelligibly, even if t
she had tried. , 1
At last, at Johnny's suggestion, she ' J
gathered together her scattered faculties, ! 1
and the two walked slowly up the road, | ?
chunbered over the pile, which might, t
have been so fatal but for them, and i
went on toward the station. Suddenly, !
to their intense horror, they saw the j
headlight of an engine approaching j
them. Had all their labor been in vain ? J a
Miss Fairbanks screamed and Johnny ! *
shouted, and the engine, which was j f
moving very slowly and to which no; *
train was attached, stopped almost im- . *
mediately, and half a dozen men came ! *
toward them.
Jolmny told the story, and Miss Fair- j *
banks stood and listened, and everybody 1
shook lunula with her, and she found | 1
that she was a heroine, and also that the 1
president and his son were in the pivrty
to which she was talking, and she idso J
learned that gratitude could be oppres- 1
sive; mm then tliey all got upon the engine
and steamed down to the obstacle
and inspected it, and then Miss Fairbanks
was sent back to her own town on I
the engine, with a man who carried an j
order from the president for the iin- |
mediate dispatch of a construction train
and a gang of men. She went home and
went to bed, and her family physician
says to this day that if she hadn't been a
disgrace to her sex she would have luul a
brain fever, instead of which she was up
and ready to receive the president and
his son when they called upon her in the !
evening. "And that's ull about her i
Christmas eve, seven years ago," said !
Lenox, ascending the door-steps of his j
boarding-house.
" Is that really all <" I asked.
" Oh, you want to know what came of
it f" asked Lenox, with a provoking
smile. "Well, she married the president's
sou. He's my cousin, and that's
why I know the story so well. Good
night." *
How to Cure Whooping>('ough.
Whooping-cough is a most distressing
complaint, not only to its victim, but to
others who are obliged to witness the
painful effects which it produces. Wo
observe that the question lias recently
V"M>An wlinfVinr ? a1?;L1
^ ??? liVWiVl ft V lillU
who is suffering from this disease in the 1
hopper of a mill will afford the patient 1
relief. We look upon this as a super- ]
stitious notion. But there is a very sim
pie remedy for whooping-cough, which,
so far as our observation has extended,
has proved efficacious. It is to remove j
the child, say fifty or one hundred miles,
in any direction, from the place where it 1
is first taken. The cough stops, or J
abates, at once. The cure is attributed '
to the change of air.
1
An old man in Nevada, 70 years of
age, was recently sent to jail for twenty
years for shooting a fellow citizen.
THE GRASSHOPPER PLAGUE.
Vn Army Olflrrr'n Appral for the People of
h. Slate on the Verse of Htarrntlon.
There are 10,000 people in the west>rn
part of the State of Nebraska who
ire reduced to the verge of starvation.
Nebraska, usually so prolific, has this
rear met with a sad mishap in the loss
>y grasshoppers and drought of all the
rops grown in Dundy, Hitchcock, Cosier,
Boon, Furnas, Phelps, Greeley,
doward, Sherman, and nearly all in
"'rnnkliu, Buffalo, Hnll, Antelope, and
Sutler counties. I lately traveled, over
he devastated region, and found the ifilabitants
in a most deplorable condition.
?ully one-third were barefooted and
lotlied in rags. There were no potatoes,
?o corn, and but a little shrivelled wheat,
dsuiy of the families were living on small
rieces of black bread, parched wheat, or
nelons and squashes. There was not
>ver a ten days' srtpply of food in $uy of
he counties. Three counties were with>ut
meat, and most of the inhabitants
md not tasted animal food for six weeks.
Jnless we feed these people they will
ertainly die of starvation. The State of,
debniskn is doing all it can, and although
icli in soil, it is too young and jJoor
inaucially to carry all these destitute
>coi)le tliroucli the w-iuter. Tliem am
.s many as 10,000 in wnnt, and at S4j>er ,
lead per month (a low estimate) it will
equire $40,000 every thirty days to feed,
lotlie, and warm these poor people. The
ask is a great one, but I believe the genrositv
of tlxe people is equal to it, and
hat they will not permit any one to safer,
much less die of starvation. Tlie
ufferers are our frontiersmen, the
lioneers of the West, and we are all
nterested in the settlement and developaent
of that great country. Generous
teople of the East, the facia are . l)efore
on ; what will you do in the matter ?
he case is urgent, and I prayyon to. d*
[uicklv wlrnt you do at all. ' Theqe -pe??le
of the West slionld not be permitted
o starve or be driven from their beauti-'
ul and fertile homes for. tile want or
read.
A building on Broadway was lo have,
men obtained Saturday, but up to the
tour of writing this the gehtlehirin in
hurge of the matter have not reported* >
ly instructions from the Nebraska Reief
and Aid Society are to establish a
(ranch or auxiliary Aid Society in New
fork city ; and until a suitable building
mi lie had, the Relief rooms will be at
tl Houston street. All packages, letters,
slothing, aud stores should be addressed,
Nebraska "Relief," Army Building, 81
louston street. Persons wishing to give
lothing can send a jiostal card, giving
itreet and dumber, and a wagon will call
or the packages.
.Tames S. Brisbin, U. S. Army.
It is the desire of Gen. Brisbin that
icwspapers in the country copy the above
etter, and give notice that supplies of
iotliing, meat, and groceries for the
Nebraska sufferers will be carried free
?ver the railroads. Apply for transporation,
by letter or telegram, to Nebraska
ielief, 31 Houston street, New York.
411 dispatches addressed to Gen. J. S.
Trisbin, Metropolitan Hotel, on account
>f Nebraska relief, will come free from
he Western Union Telegraph lines.
Saved by a Jack.
The following story is told as true, to
ihow the manner in which juries someinies
decide a case: Tho jury in the
sase had come to a dead-lock. The'pow;rful
appeals of the counsel for the deeuse
had not been without effect, and
lie jury stood six for conviction and six
'or acquittal. Ballot after ballot was
akeu ; they argued on both sides, but
lot a sign of a change. As the jury
vould be out all night, card:; were proposed.
At midnight one of their number, Col.
? , who led the six for acquittal, proxised
that they should play a game of
even up, the result to decide the verlict.
The foreman, who was for conviction,
agreed, and the proposition was
leartily and unanimously adopted, and
n all seriousness, too. Col. P and
lie foreman played, and the others were
ookem on. The colonel played to save
;he accused, while the foreman played
don. The backers, standing close beliind
their respective champions, watched
uixiously, giving advice and encouragement,
and keeping the two tallow canUes
properly snuffed tliat dimly lighted
the scene.
The game proceeded with equal fortune,
till the parties had each scored six.
\t this moment the excitement was intense.
Upon a single card now hung a
tunmui life. It was Col. P 's deal.
He dealt slowly, and with trembling
liand, his lips compressed, and his breath
ibated?and turned a jack.
With the turning of this fateful card,
which acquitted the prisoner, the jury
united in a shout, and on the following
morning went into court and gave their
rerdict of " Not guilty "?a verdict
which was received with blank surprise
by a majority of the spectators.
Casualties of the Sea.
When the sea gives up its dead, it
will reveal a terrible tale of loss of life.
Only in six months of 1873, we see in a
report Deiore us mat uio number of lives
lost from wrecks, casualties and collisions
on or near the coasts of the United
Kingdom, was 728, or 138 more than the
number lost in the whole year of 1872.
The lives lost were 98 in ships, 78 of
them laden vessels ; 11 in ballast, and,
in nine cases, not known ; 82 of the (hips
were entirely lost, and 16 sustained partial
damage. Of the 728 lives lost, 81
were lost in vessels that foundered, 346
through vessels in collision, and 122 in
vessels stranded or cast ashore ; 298 lives
were lost through the sinking of the illfated
NorthfleeU
t V Fearful Penalty.
" Bo sure your sin will find you out"
is as solemnly true when applied to the
retribution of a personal bad indulgence
as it is in cases of concealed capital guilt.
Hall's Journal of Health quotes the
language too often used by apologists for
'* temperate" drinking of alooholio
liquors, and selects ah instance that carries
its own warning with it:
"A glass of beer can't hurt anybody!
Why, I know a person?yonder he is
now?a specimen of manly beauty, a
portly six-footer ; he has the bearing of
prinoe ; he is one of our merchant princes.
His face wears the line of youth ;
and now, at the age of fifty odd, he has
the quick, elastic step of our young men
of twenty-five, and none more full of
wit and mirth than he ; and I know he
never dines without brandy and water,
and never goes to bed without a terrapin
or oyster supper, with plenty of cbunpagne;
and more than that, he was never
known to be drunk. "So here is a living
exemplar and disproof of the temperance
twaddle about the dangerous nature
of on occasional glass and the destructive
effects of a temperate use of good
liquors.'' <? .
.1 Now it so happened that this specimen
of qafe brandy-drinking was a relation of
ours. He died a year or two after that
^rith chronic diarrhea, a common end of
those who are never drunk, or never out
of liquor. He left his widow a splendid
mansion up town, and a dear five thousand
a year, beside a large fortune to
each of his children, fdr he had ships on
every sea, and Credit at: every counter,
but which he never had occasion to use.
. For months before he <|ied?he was a
year dying---he could eat . nothing without
distress ; ill the midst of his millions
-lie died of inanition, *'? ?r
Thet is not the Jinif, reader. He had
be^n, a, steady drjnjfcer, ? daily drinker
for twenty-eight years. He left a legacy
t8'hfe children which lfe?ffid not mention.
Scrofula had-been sating up one
daughter fox fifteen yearsanother is in
flie mad-house : the third and fourth
were of dneartnly beahty?there was a
kifid of grandeur in that beauty?but
they blighted, and paled, and faded into
heaven# TO tawt, their sireetest teens;
anp^esia tottering qp the verge of the
grave,and only one cr them is left all
tEe'sensSs. ~"
v.K ' rr?T iu a Ml
Commerce and Navigation.
Little improvement is observable in
the foreiarn carrvincr trade of the United
States, says the Secretary of the Treasury.
. Over 72 per cent of our imports
and exports, during the last fiscal year,
was carried in foreign vessels. This
ratio is, however, a somewhat better exhibit
than for the fiscal year 1872, when
70 per cent, of this trade was transported
in vessels of other nations. It is estimated
that prior to 1860, from 75 to 80
per cent, was done in vessels of the United
States.
From the report of the Register of the
Treasury, the total tonnage of vessels of
the United States appears to be 4,800,652
tons, being an increase over that of
the fiscal year ending June 80, 1878, of
104,626 tons, notwithstanding the omission
from the official returns, under the
act of April 18, 1874, of canal-boat tonnage
amounting to 188,065 tons.
The tonnage of vessels built during tue
last fiscal year, as given in the report of
the Register, is 432,725 tons ; which
amount exceeds that of the preceding
year by 73,479 tons, and is greater than
that of any joar since 1855.
From J uly 1 to November 10, 1874,
official numbers have been awarded by
the Bureau of Statistics to 684 vessels,
whose carrying capacity amounts to
169,654 tons. Of these, 218 were new
sea-going vessels, varying from 100
to 5,000 tons, with an aggregate tonnage
of 120,972 tons. Of this number 29 vessels
measured over 1,000 tons, three over
2,000 tons, while two were iron steamships
of 5,008 tons each.
The Deceptive Small Boy.
The Burlington IIawkeye writee of the
deceptive small boy : "Passing by one
of the city schools recently, we listened
to the scholars singing, 4 Oh, how I love
my teacher dear.' There was one boy
with a voice like a tornado, who was so
enthusiastic that he emphar'^ed every
other word, and roared, 4 Oh, how I love,
my teach-ei dear,' with a vim that left
no possible doubt of his affection. Ten
minutes after that boy - had been stood
on the floor for putting shoemaker's wax
on his teacher's chair, got three demerit
marks for drawing a picture of her with
red chalk on the back of an atlas, been
well shaken for putting a bent pin in
another boy's chair, scolded for whistling
out load, sentenced to stay after school
for drawing ink moustaches on his face
and blacking the end of another boy's
noee, and soundly whipped for slapping
three hundred and thirty-nine spitbslls
np against the ceiling and throwing one
big one into a girl's ear. Ton can t beII
L .lr I. ? A- 99
ufvo mux a uoy, bhjh wneu po bui^b.
American Apples in England.
The London Garden speaks an follows
in regard to the importation of our national
fruit: American apples of the
past season's growth are now selling at
moderate rates in provincial towns, both
in England and Ireland. The high-oolored
and well-flavored Baldwin la the
commonest kind as yet. As usual they
come in barrels, without any kind of
packing material, and are, as s rule, in
excellent condition. That apples should
be sent several thousand miles, and then
be sold as cheaply as home-grown fruit,
is a noteworthy fact. At this rats of
progress, fruitless and oold regions will
soon be supplied with the finest fruits at
a cost that places them within the reach
of all Masses.