The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, July 14, 1875, Image 1
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THE ^TRIBUNE.
VOL. I.?NO. 34. BEAUFORT, S. C.. .JULY 14, 1875. $2.50 PER ANNUM.
The Dainty Maiden.
Hast thou seen tlio dainty maidau
As she bwiftly paBsos by ?
Yes, indeed !?her liair ia golden,
Clearebt aaure in Lor eye.
Flits she swiftly aa the swallow
Toward the nest yhore it doth bide ;
GcJdeti hair a queen doth crown her?
Ah, I would she wore my brido!
Thou art inino my dainty maiden,
Delicate and mannerly;
Yet, ah, yet, thou lackeat something ?
Eyes of blue, what can it be ?
Indicate thou art in kissing
As the Bwallow water uips ;
Much too, delicate and dainty,
Kissing with such pointed lips.
?From the German of Goethe.
THE STOLEN LETTER.
Ono raiuy night, about half-past eight
o'clock, the train had dashed into MoKibben's
Corners, and the mail had
beert delivered at tho etoro and postoffi
ce.
John Fairjohn, the postmaster, had
opened the bag and counted the letters.
'There were, as he made out, just ten,
and one was larger than the others and
had a red seal; and then he had found
that ho had left his glasses on the newspaper
in the back room, and without his
glasses he could not read a line; and so,
of course, he had gone after them, returning
to find two persons in the store
?Farmer Roper and Squire McKibben,
whose ancestors had given name to the
place.
4> Wet, ain't it?" said Mr. Fairjohu,
jnoddiug.
'Wet or not, our folks ain't going to
<lo without their groceries, you see,"
said the squire. "Mail's in, I see. That
train came near running into my truck,
too. Wasn't-noticing the flag, and drdve
across just in time to save myself. Any
letters for mo?"
'I'll see," said Mr. Fairjolin.
IIo turned to the little pile of envelopes,
and told them over in his hand like
* deck of cards,
' Why there's only nine," he said.
41 T*..^ T ..Via T 1-J
X XXX DUl O X WVUUVOU Xl^Ub. JL UUUUK3U
ton, and I thought one hod a red seal. I
might as well give up keeping the office
if I'm going to lose my senses like that.
There wasn't any oue in here while I
was gone, was there, squire ?"
"Only Roper and I," said the squire,
"and Roper's sou. But he didn't come
in., did ho?"
"No," said old Roper. " I don't
think that Job came in at all. He just
went off somewhere."
" Well," said the postmaster, after another
search, "well, I must be mistaken.
Yes, there is a letter for you?your
folks, anyway?and something for you,
Mr. Roper. And you wouldn't mind
tossing that in at the Smith's as you
pass?"
" Oh, no," said farmer Roper. "Give
it to me. That's from Smith that's
clerking it in New York, I reckon. Can't
get any of 'em to stay and farm."
u " Your son Job did," said the 'squire.
" Oh, my son Job. He'd try the
patience of his namesake," said Farmer
Roper. " My sou Job, bah."
Just at this moment the door of the
store opened, and there entered at it a
little woinau dressed in a chteap calioo,
and wrapped in a thin and faded shawl.
She looked timidly about the store,
still more timidly at the heap of letters,
aud then, in an appealing voice like that
of a frightened child, said:
" Mr. Fairjolin, is there any letter for
me this time ?"
The postmaster, who was a little deaf,
had turned his head away and did not
know that she had entered, and she
came closer to tho counter and the light
upon it before bIig spoke again. She
was a fa?!ed little woman, and her face
had signs of grief written npon it, but
she was neither old nor ugly yet, and
there was something in the damp curls
clustering uuder tho faded calico hood,
and in the little round, dimpled chin
absolutely childlike even yet.
"Is there a lettor for mo this time,
Mr. Fairjolin ?" she Baid again; and this
time the postmaster looked up.
44 No, there ain't; and you're a fool
for taking such a walk to ask," said he,
with rough kindness. 44 Wouldn't I have
sent it if it had come, Mrs. Lester?"
44 Well, you see, I felt in a hurry to
get it," said she. 44 You can't blame me
for being in a hurry, it's so long."
44 That's true," said the postmaster.
44 Well, better luck next time. But
why dou't you wait? Mr. McKibben
will hike you over when he goes. He
passes your corner."
44 Yes, wait, Mrs. Lester," cried Mr.
McKibben, 44 I'll take ye and welcome."
But she had answered:
44 Thank you. I don't mind walking,"
and was gone.
44 Keeps it up, don't she!" asked the
postmaster.
"It's asliamo,"said Mr. McKibben.
" Jtlow many years is it now since Lester
wont off?"
" Ten," said the postmaster. " I
know, for it was the day I came here.
She was as pretty a woman as you'd
want to see then, wasn't she ?"
" Well, yes," said Mr. MoKibben.
"Sailed in the Sphynx," said the postmaster.
" And we all know that tho
Sphynx went down in that voyage, all
hands along with hor. The rest of the
women put on widow's weeds, them that
lost husbands?four in this town itself.
They took what the Almighty sent and
didn't rebel. Sho set up that her husband
wasn't dead, and would oome back.
She's kept it up ever since; comes for
his letter regular, and ho was drowned
along with all the rest, of eourse, ten
y years ago. She must be thirty. Well,
she's changed a good deal in that time."
"Yes," said tho other man; "but
there's my son Job wild over her yet.
He's offered himself twice. He stands
ready to offor himself again any day?
ready to be a father to her boy, ami a
good husband to her. He's better off
than I be. His mother's father left him
all he had. He's crazy as Job?crazy, I
oall it. Plenty of pretty gals, and
healthy, smart widows, and he sees no
one but that pale, slim little thing that's
just gone out into the mud; and she?
why, of course, she's lost her senses, or
she'd have him. Works like a slave to
keep herself and child, lives in a rickety
shanty waiting and waitiug for a drowned
man to come back again. Why, every
one knows Charlie Lester was drowned
in the Sphynx. There wasn't a soul
saved, not one. It was in the papers.
Now,' the bottle was found with a letter
in it, writ by some one before the ship
sunk. And she's waitin'for him yet!"
" Crazy on that point," said the postmaster.
"Well, poor bouI, she'd only
been married a week when the Sphynx
sailed; that makes a difference."
"Oh, yes," said the farmer.
Then their parcels being ready, they
went out to their wagons, and Mr. Fairjohn
having stared into the rainy night
awhile put up his shutters and went to
bed. Meanwhile the woman plodded on
through the mud. "Walking off her
disappointment," she said to herself. It
was one she should hnve been used to,
and now the absurdity of it seemed to
strike her for the first time in all these
years.
" They laugh at me," she muttered to
herself. "I know they laugh at me.
Perhaps I am mad; but they don't know
what love is. Charlie wouldn't have
left rae like that. If he had died he
TPnill/I linvn nrimn mn n
? ? ? O*'1'" 1UV DUUIO DJ^U, illlVl,
yet?yet, if be were alive, it would be
stranger still. No, no; they are right?
I am wrong. He must bo dead."
And as though the news had just been
whispered to her, she clasped lior hands
to her forehead, gave a cry, and sank
down on her knees in the road.
She knelt there a few moments and
then arose. In this interval the wind
had blown the clouds from the Bky, and
the moonlight lay white upon the path
and lit her on her way to her poor home.
There at the door sat a man, a strong,
determined looking fellow, who arose as
she approached and held out his hand.
" Here you come," he said, "tired to
death, worn out, still on that fruitless
errand. Jessie Lester, can't you give
up this nonsense and think of the living
a little. Think of me, Jessie, for just
half an hour."
"I do think of you," she said. "I
am very sorry you should be so good to
me when I must seem so bad to you."
Then she sat down on the porch and
took her little hood off, and leaned her
head wearily against the wall of the
house; and the man arose and crossed
over and sat down beside her.
"Give it a softer resting place, Jessie,"
he said, " here on my heart."
She looked out into the night, not at
him, as she spoke:
"Job," she said, " I begin to think
you are right, that he went down in the
Sphynx with the rest ten years ago. But
what good would I do you ? What do
you want to marry me for ?"
The mau drew closer stilly as he answered
:
" Before you were married to Charles
Lester I loved you. While you were a
married woman I loved you. All these
ten years since that vessel went down
I've loved you. A man must have the
woman he loves if he gives his soul for
her."
" What a horrible thought!" said sho.
" His soul."
"I should have said his life," said
Job. " I don't want to shock you. But
you don't know what it would bo to me
to have you. And then I'd do everything
for yonr boy."
"Yes," she answered, "I know you
would."
There was a pause. Then she gave
him her hand.
"Job," she said very softly, " I shall
preten^l nothing I don't feel, but I know
I've been crazy all this time, and if you
want me you may liavo me. It's very
good of you to love me so."
And thus it seems to have ended, that
ten years' watching and waiting, and
there was triumph in Job's eyes as he
turned away and left her with his first
kiss upon her brow. But at the end of
the green lane he paused and looked
back.
"I told her the truth," he said,
" when I said that when a man loved a
woman as I love her, he must have her,
if the price were his soul itself."
And then he drew from his breast a
lettei with a great red seal upon it,
looked at it for a moment, and hid it
away again.
Married ? Yes, they were to be
married. Every one at McKibben's
Corners knew that now. Jessie Lester
went no more to the post-office for her
long-expected letter. Job was furnishing
his house?La 1 furnished it, for on
the morrow the wedding was to take
plaoe. And it was night again. A
month from that night, when she had
come for the last time, as every one
thought, through rain and mud, to make
linr anrl 1 w fnnliuh nnorxr alio xxroa annoiKlo
at last?very sensible. She had chosen
the substance instead of the shadow.
And now, as wo said, it was night, and
a wetter one than the other?later, too,
for Mr. Fairjohn had closod the store,
and was compounding himself what ho
called a "night.oap " of some fragrant
liquor, warm water, lemons and sugar,
and was supping it by the stove, when
thers came upon his door a feeble
knock, and when, being repeated, he
heard it, tliero staggered in out of the
rain a dripping figure?that of Jessie
Lester, the bride who was to bo on the
morrow.
She wm trembling with cold, and as
he led her to the tire she burst iuto n
tlood of tears.
"I'm frightened," she said. " Some
one followed me all the way. I heard
them."
" You've no business to be out alone
at night," said old Fairjohn, bluntly.
"And what's the mntter ?"
She looked up at him piteously.
" I thought there would bo a letter,"
said she. " I dreamt there was one. I
thought Charlie came to mo and said:
' Go to the office once more. I have
written, I have written.' And I thought
I saw a letter with a red seal."
" So did I," muttered old Fairjohn to
himself.
And he weut to tho box where the letters
wero kept and brought them to her
in his hand.
" Look for yourself," he said. " And
now, Mrs. Lester, I'm an old man. Take
my advice. Kemember what your duty
will be after to-morrow, lleinember net
to go crazy.
" Ten years have gone since your busband
left this place. If he's alive he's
a rascal, and you are free of him by law;
but we all know that every man on board
I ftm wua rlrAn*nn<l o
"? "" >7 "ft"""
wifo to Job Roper and forget this folly.
I'll take you home agaiu this time.
Don't come again."
She made no answer, but only tossed
the letters over in her lap, aud said:
" I seemed to know it had a red seal."
And as she Bpoke, oldT^airjohn, glonoing
at the door, saw a dark shadow there,
saw it grow darker ; saw it enter, and
starting up on his defense, if need be,
recognized Job Roper.
He was very pale, and took no notice
of Fairjohu, but crossing the store, stood
beside Jessie Lester.
" You lovo that man best, even now,"
he said. "You'd rather have found a
lotter from him than not, though tomorrow
is our wedding day."
She looked up into his face with a
piteous glance.
"I never lied to you," said she.
" You know that."
He grow whiter still.
"I told you a man would lose his soul
for such a love as mine," said ho.
"Did you think those were idle words ?"
Then he plunged his hand into his
bosom, and the next instant a letter, with
a red seal, lay in Jessie's lap.
"I've made you happy, and now I'll
go," he said. "Fairjohn, I stole that
letter a month ago, off the counter
yonder. I knew who wrote it at a
glance;" and then the door closed bohind
him and he was gone.
But Jessie had torn open the letter
and looked after him.
And these were the words she read,
old Fairjohn reading over her shoulder:
" Aboard tiib Silver Star.?Jessie,
darling, I don't know what makes me
believe that I shall find you mine still,
after all these years, but something
does.
*4 Five of us were cast on a desert
island when the Sphynx went down.
The two yet alive were taken off it yesterday
in skins, with our beards to onr
knees. Wo must go to England first?
then home. Jessie, Jessie, if I do not
find you as I left you I shall go mad.
Your husbnnd, Charles Lhster."
And so Jessie's lettor had come at last.
Anil as John Fairjohn looked into her
face he taw how angels looked in Paradise.
And Job. Job was found drowned
the next morning. Jessie never knew it,
perhaps for she and her boy wero on
their way to New York to meet the Silver
Star when it made port.
Some Fatherly Advice.
" Is the father of this offspring here!"
inquired his honor of the Detroit police
"court, as a boy named William Barron,
! aged seventeen, came out.
No answer.
4 4 Bub, you aro charged with loafing,
being drunk and disturbing the peace."
continued the court.
" Bub " looked up indignantly. He
had commenced to coax out a mustache,
chewed tobacco, carried a pistol, and he
had an idea that he was a full grown
man.
"I have no doubt of your guilt," continued
his honor, " but I shall not send
you up. They have n? nursing bottles
up there?no cradles?no one to get up
in the night and give you catnip tea. I
know you have the idea that you are a
man, and I presume your parents have
lost control of you, but you are only a
child in the eyes of the law. If you
w;re a child of inino I should spank you
and tie you into a high chair for an hour
or two, but as you are not I shall send
you back into the corridor and wait for
your father to come and draw you home
in a baby cart. Follow Bijah, bub, and
if thero is a rattle-box or a whistle to be
found around the building he will give
you amusement.'*
The Wits of the Press.
" Gen. Sheridan was married in his
spurs." This was a grave error on his
part, for now he will go the rounds of
the fuuny paragrapliists somewhat after
this sort. The Boston Advertiser will
remark that it was proper ho should
have ins spurs at a bridal. The Chicago
Tribune will probably contradict the
rumor, assorting that it has not a bit of
truth. The Detroit Free Preen will
hope that the general will curb his tempor
better than when he was a sir-single
and not pommel any of his wife's relations.
The Rochester Democrat will insist
that those remarks are calculated to
mako the groom feel saddley. But the
Boston Poet will exclaim: What boots
it i Why stirrup such a commotion.
And then then the lesser wits will buckle
into the work and use up the entire harness.?Hartford
Courant.
Flowers.
The oouutry looks at no tiino m
rich > nil beautiful, says tho New Y
Times, tlian when in spring the trees
in full leaf, with all the brilliancy
their verdure ; the crops are frosh
groen with rapid growth; the lands, i
rule, are clean and well tended, as
this time of year they of necessity a
be; and in the meadows the grass
clover are fast hastening to rnatiir
Trees and shrubs are in blossom, i
the whole aspect is one of life, liea
and luxuriance. But you may visit v
many farmhouses, very many cour
residences of city men, without find
a well-planned flower garden. Hero i
there a farmer's wifo may be fouud t
has a taste for such things. She hi
few flower beds which she cherishes
the front lawn. Approach them, i
you must walk knee-deep in grass, o
to see, perhaps, a lot of drawnpetunias,
or a group of sickly pansie
the bjttom of a grassy well. If
have a soul a little above pansies,
will apologize for the state of the la^
but tho grass is growing up for hay,
tolls you, and the flowers meanw]
have to get along as best they t
Flowers do not pny, but grass is mor
is the Hentiment which too much ]
vails.
But is it true that flowers do not p
In tho first place, we deny altoget
the doctrine that nothing pays wluc
not convertible into dollars and cei
A fow dollars will suffice to provide
the material for a very excellent fio
garden. A moderate amount of la
will suffice to get such a garden i
order, and to keep it so. Still, tl
must be the expenditure of a li
money and of some trouble, and besi
that, there is the loss of probabl;
couplo of dollars more in the desirabi
of not turning the lawn into a hayfii
On the other side of the account,
confess that no dollars are to be plac
hut there are profits of another ki
The custom of measuring everything
its nniiey value is a mistake. It is
pressed upon the minds of boys i
girls from their infancy, and there is
telling how much evU springs froir
The farmer who teaches his boys t
the garden lawn must be turned i
dollars, would do them an infinil
greater service if he would ddvoto 1
lawn and its flower beds to the cultur
his children's aesthetic faculties. T
might possibly grow up more hon
and they would certainly grow up
rugged and uncouth.
The city merchant who moves i
the country every spring, and take
sort of city house on a villago lot, r
think that he is giving himself and
family all the enjoyments of com
life. He is to be there only a
months, and he argues that to culth
the little plot of ground around
house would not pay. So ho is cout
to let its nakedness be covered w
weeds. Rut for the same reason t
he adorns his parlors with works of
and cultivates the elegancies of bo
life in his city mansion, should he i
till his garden with flowers. His v
and children, his friends, and he h
self, too, would reap the reward in
influence which such luxuries, cli
though they be, have upon the mi
Farmers and permanent residents of
country have no excuse whatever for
enjoying and letting their fumilies on
all the advantages which the coui
affords. The few dollars they may s
by their present plan are more than
off by the loss which accrues to tl
children in education?for mental tn
ing is as much a part of education as
mere acquisition of school learni
And the sooner a desire to improve ev
means for attaining that end becoi
general, the sooner we shall have
tained to the first step toward a liig
standard of mental and moral culture
A Long Willie on its Travels.
The Danville (N. Y.) Advertiser b
that on May 28, of this year, Mc
George, of that village, a veteran of
wur 01 1012, wuo lias pusseu uih eignu
year, extracted from bis groin a bul
which was buried there by the rifle ol
Indian at the battle of Chippewa, ou
5th day of July, 1815. The bullet stri
the inside of the right leg near the gr
as the soldier was wheeling into line, i
badly shattered the thigh bone. 1
bullet weighs a full half ounce and
concave on ono side, showing the
press of the bone which it struck. I
somewhat blackened, but beneath a t
coaling the lead is as pure anil bright
it was over half a oentury ago. The li
has shortened six inches or more, i
below the thigh and reaching nearly
the knee is thickly scarred, where pie
of shattered bone, over fifty in all, fi
time to time, worked out. Tho bu
did not return by its original entrai
but came to tho surface about four inc
above, and was taken out by the vete
himself without tho aid of instrumei
The Book Agent Plague.
When ho got to Webster City,
traveler didn't understand at first i
all the doors wore locked, the flrst-st
shatters barred, and no sign of life
sight, save a few frightened eyes look
fearfully through tlio half turned sla
the attic blinds, and an occasional <
that peeped cautiously forth from un
a porch to growl and divo back nf
into obscurity ; but when he' turne
corner and came suddenly upou
female book agents trying to climb n
lightning rod to an open window on
second story, he took it all in, and v
the speed and silence of unmanly ten
fled for the woods. But they pursi
him with hideous howls and talked 1
to death on the run, finishing him nj
just a mile and three-quarters. Tii
1.87 J.
After Thoughts.
tore a writer says : How very often it liapork
pons in conversation, as Bernard Barton
are remarks in one of his letters to Crabbe,
r ?( that the thing you might and would and
and should have said occurs to vou just a l
a little too late. He draws on his own ex1
at porience for the record of many a long
lust ami animated discussion with a friend,
and after which he called to mind some
ity- pithy argument that would have smashaud
ed his opponent's case, and which,
Ith, affirms the gentle Quaker poet : " 1
ory should have been almost sure to have
dry had at my fingers' ends had I been
rrJK quietly argning the matter on paper in
my own study." Cowper complains that
rho when he wrote a letter to any but a fa13
a miliar friend, no sooner had lie dispatch- *
1 011 ed it than he was sure to recollect how I
and much better he could have made it.
nly Horace Walpole opens his epistle with '
out tha remark that more answers that are i
3 not made to letters immediately are like
she good things which peoplo recollect they ,
sho might have said had they but thought of ,
? them in time; that is, very insipid, and ]
R)ie the apropos very probably forgotten.
Little Henry Esmond, when pointed j
*ni out by saucy Trix to my lord as "saving |
iey> his prayers to mamma, could only look j
are- very silly. If ho invented a half-dozen
of speeches in reply, that was months
?yf afterward; "as it was, he had never a
her word in answer." Mr. Thackeray's writ- '
h in : - rr i: -n 1??. -? ?>
Lugo oner uivern muHimiious 01 me '
its. BamH kind. There is Mr. Batchelor, for
' instance, when impertinently quizzed 1
wer to his face by that supercilious Captain 1
bor Uaker. 4' ' Sir!' says I; ' sir ' was all I
into J could say. The fact is, I could have
iere replied with something remarkably neat
ttle aucj cutting, which would have transfix^C8
ed the languid little jackanapes, * *
Y. a but, you see, I only thought of my rebty
partee some eight hours afterward, when
old. i was lyiug in bed, and I am sorry to
vre own that a great number of my best
e(l'? bon mota have boen made in that way."
n^* Dr. Holmes suggestively records on
'.by the subject of mistakes and slips in
im- writing, that he never finds them out
until they are stereotyped, and then he
1 no thinks they rarely escape him. Southey
1 once assigned as the reason for his not
hat reading for the bar that he was so easily
u*? disconcerted, that the right answer to
?ly an argument never occurred to him im hat
mediately. " I always find it at last,
B ?f but it cornea too late ; a blockhead who
bey speaks boldly can baffle me." A state of
est, mind figured in a modern poem :
less
" Speech, only qnick to blueh its own delay,
[n?0 Made me a fool, when fools had their own
way,
18 R And awkward-silent when oonoeit was loud."
nay
his Charlotte Bronte relates how Mr.
ltry Thackery met her at the door, at
few the close of one of his readings, and
rate frankly asked her what she thought of
mo n; ami now, lining nis natvere sue was
out entirely disposed to praise him, having '
ritli plenty of praise in her heart, "but, '
hat alas 1 no word on my lips. Who has j
art, words at the right moment? I stammer- <
cial ed out some lame expressions"?and 1
ilso doubtless hit ou some neat and pithy
rife eulogium soon aftor his back was ]
im- turned. I
the The good dame in one of Mrs. Gas- I
eap kell's-fictions is speaking for thousands 1
nd. when she says of the rector and his |
the wife that they both talk so much as to |
not knock one down, like ; and it'B not till
ijoy they have gone, and one's a little at j
itry peace, that one can think there are i
ave things one might have said on one's j
set own side of the question." And so j
leir again John Sercolaske, introduced by ^
liu- riiilip van Artevelde as our " sagacious }
the friend"?than whom a better counselor
ng. need not be, if only he have full soope .
ery beforehand to ponder and devise what
lies to say; but " ask him on the sudden" !
at- a simple enough question, and?
her
"?Confounded wil! ho stand <
Till livelier tongues from emptier heads have ]
spoken;
Then on the morrow to a tittle know
What shquld have been his answer.
ays ;
?ses
the Lots of Piuc Logs.
eth The Midland (Mich.) Independent ,
thus describes a jam in the Tittabawassee ;
river: Can our readers outside the ;
? limits of the lumber region realize what !
1 . it is to see a river, from twenty to forty
01" five rods across, filled, rammed, jammed
"j full of pine logs for sixty miles? Yes,
i . if they liave a mind to travel up this way
. 18 just now and view the Tittabawassee,
1??" filled in just that way, with a heavy
j .1S double and triple jam of noble pine logs,
from Saginaw to above Edenville, a
' distance of about sixty miles by the
111 j course the stream pursues. Just enllJ
deavor to imngine the stupendous thing,
and then consider whether or not any
|c,e8 work was done in the " dim old aisles"
j!nj of the lumber forests during that cold
1 wiiiter. Sixty miles of logs! Sixty
l.co' miles of logs, and probably, on an aver^
age, four million feet of lumber to the
r8U mile, so the lumbermen inform us, or
tits, approximately, 250,000,000 feet of pine 1
lumber in the whole jam 1 Can you take I
all that in ? No, not yet. Well, let us 1
tho figure a little further: Four logs to the
vhy thousand feet is about a fair average; j
ory then in each log would reside two hun.
in dred and fifty feot of lumber, or to make I
;ing 250,000,000 feet of lumber, it would ret
of quire one million logs ! Can you comjog
prehend that figure? One million pieoes.
der Probably sixteen feet is about the averfain
age length of these logs?it will not at
,1 a 1.' fi q t wiilnlv vflrv frnm Hint nn/1 than
nix the distance those million pieces woulil
ip a extend if placed end to end in one oonthe
tinuous line would be 16,000,000 feet or
ritli ft little above 3,000 miles, the distanoe
ror, across the American continent from New
tied York to San Francisco. If rawed bo tl a1,
lim all the waste would be worked up, this
i in would make almost a sufficient amount
me, of inch lumber to build a sidewalk two
feet wide (completely around the globe.
Items of Interest.
Albany. N. Y., now has doable the
popalation ef the State of New York in
1771.
Japanese law requires that when a person
cuts down a tree he shall at onoo
plant another.
A pigeon roost has been discovered at
Preston, Minn., nine miles in length and
three in breadth.
A metallic sort of marriage is one
where the bride's tin is matched by the
bridegroom's brass.
English spelling match. Teacher:
"Saloon." Scholar: "Hess?hay?hel
?ho?ho?hen?saloon."
It is a thousand years this year sinoe
the first naval victory of the English was
gained by Alfred over the Danes.
At Ventura petroleum has been
" struck " so pure that adventurous per- ,
K)Q3 burn it in their lamps unrefined.
The secretary of the treasury will soon
iirect the payment of the final installment
of $300,000 of the Farragut prize
money.
Phil. Sheridan's bride is nearly half a
bead taller than he. But he counterbalances
this advantage by keeping his
bair cut short.
It is a pleasant thing to see roses and
lilies glowing upon a young lady's cheek,
but a bad sight to see a man's faoe break
out in blossoms.
" That beet's all I" as the man said
when ho sat down: to his first dinner in
the new hQuse on moving day and found
the supply Bhort.
It is said that the wealthiest journalist
in America is A. S. Aboil, of the Baltimore
iS'un, whose property is estimated
it from seven to ten million dollars.
A man is said to be absent-minded
when he thinks he has left his watch at borne,
and takes it out of his pocket to
see if he has time to ran home and get it.
An "honest" Indiana man, when
caught in the act of distilling, the other
iay, explained that he was just making
? little for his sick wife, merely twenty
gallons.
A Newark girl hastened the departure
of a lingering gentleman caller the other
avening by remarking as she looked out
of the window: " I think we shall have a
beautiful sunrise."
A Kansas City man lias written three
affecting letters announcing his suicide,
and is waiting for his father to send on
sumo money ior iunerai expenses, wnicn
will enable him to begin life anew.
A prosecution has been begun against
a Nuremburg paper for inadvertently inserting
an advertisement apparently in
cypher, which when read backwards,
consisted of reflections on Prince Bismarck.
A reprobate held an old shirt up by
the neck before discarding it forever,
but he wasn't mourning for the garment.
Be only said ; "I wish I had all the
Irinka again that have gone through that
old neck band."
An adventurous aeronaut in London
lias expressed his intention of living for
1 week in a balloon. It will be captive,
but thfi ropes which confine it are to be
unusually strong, and his aerial home is
to be moored at a good height above
the earth.
Qen. Sherman assured a reporter of
the Chicago Time* that it was at the
urgent personal solicitation or ueorge
Bancroft, combined with that of the historian,
Dr. John Draper of New York,"
that he allowed his recently-published
memoirs to see the light.
How sweet is perfect understanding
between man and wife. He was to
imoke cigars when he wanted them, but
tie was to give her ten cents every time he
indulged iu one. He kept his word, and
3very time she got fifty oentsahead, he'd
borrow it and buy cigars. And so they
were happy.
A young lady died in New York,
whose death is said to have been caused
by having her hair bleached from blaok
to a bright golden eolor, the poisonous
bleaching material, it is supposed, affecting
the brain. The safest way is to let
nature dye the hair as she thinks best,
and bleach it in her own way, when the
proper time comes.
All About Consumption.
Consumption is not a disease of the
lungs, but of the system, showing itself
in the lungs. If yon fully oomprehend
this you are ready for the common sense
treatment. Avoiding all local treatment,
by inhalation, all the panaceas, includ
ing whisky and cod-liver oil (fashionable
to-day, exploded to-morrow), employ
those natural methods about which wise
doctors have never differed. 1. Walk
in all kinds of weather, two or three
times a day. If too weak for this, begin
with the saddle. 2. Hang by the. hands
in rings suspended from the oeiling, six
feet above the floor, swing backward and
forward, sideways and in a circle. The
effect upon the walls of the cheet is
very remarkable. The writer has known
such swinging to reduce the pulse sensibly
in a week. In such exercise continue
until slightly fatigued. 3. Wash
the entire skin with tepid water and
good natural soap every morning on returning
from the first walk, and rub the
skin to redness every night on going
to bed, with sharp hair gloves. 4. Sleep
much, retiring before nine, adding a
nip in the middle of the day. Never
forget that good ventilation daring the
hours of sleep is vital in every case of
diseased lungs. 5. Eat for breakfast and
dinner oat meal, crackers, wheat, mutton,
plain bread, potatoes. Use no
try or other trash. Eat no snpper. &
Cultivate jovial people. Laughter lathe
most precious of all possible axercises
for chronic affections