The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, November 24, 1875, Image 1
THE TRIBUNE.
V 3 ~ - r- q
} . in- it i ;
VOL. II.--NO. 1. BEAUFORT, S. ., NOVEMBER 24, 1875. $1.50 PER ANNUM.
Darling Dorel.
She came *ith her innocent beauty and
grace,
An angel in heart and an angel in faoe,
Aa quaintly the old German ohronioles tell
The picturesque story of Darling Dorel.
Bomo faoee are bright like the e an be am of
day.
Wherever they shine the clouds vanish away,
While sorrow's pule phantom glides back to its
cell,
And suoh was the face of the Darling Dorel.
Bomo hearts are so full of the treasures of
love,
The beautiful gifts of the Giver above,
Their riohes o'erflow into others a swell;
And such was the heart of the Darling DoreL
Some lives are like chords under music's
control,
Each incident harmony blends with the whole,
Until on tho ear in full concord they swell;
And such was the life of tho Darling Dorel.
Whenever she passed through the streets of
the town,
No story book queen with a scepter and orown,
But gifted with graces that none could excel,
Tho natural guards of the Darling DoreL
Her ladies w6uld bring with them comfits and
toys,
For the bright little maidens and brave little
boys,
While the children wonld follow love's magical
spell,
And hasten to welcome their Darling Dorel.
The duchess knew not of her pretty new name,
Though far it was spread by the heralds of
fame,
Till at length, as it happened, one day it
befell
That she learned they called her the Darling
Dorel.
'Twas breathed by a child's yet impolitic
lipe,
Which often the wisdom of eages eclipse ;
The princess had asked if her name she could
tell ;
"Your name," said tho child, " is the Darling
Doiol."
Tlic courtie rs all Btarod, half in Wonder, half
sport;
Such a name savored more of the oot than the
court;
Cut their mistress said, smiling through tears
"It is well;
Henceforth let them sal! mo the Darling
Dorel.
"The proudest of titles that monarch a can
show
Are those which the love of their people
bestow;
And not for an emperor's crown would I sell
The title mine give me of Darling Dorel."
FARMER BRILL'S NEW PLEASURE.
Farmer Brill had been a hard working,
industrious man, and now in his later
years he was enjoying the frnit of his
well directed toil ; bat not in the large
measure that might have been his if he
had known how to get the most from his
possessions. The farmer had worked
narrowly all his life, and now he was trying
to enjoy himself narrowly, still
hoping to lind pleasure in receiving instead
of giving. He did feel less kindly
toward his neighbors than he should
have felt, for he had never been so kind
and helpful toward them as he should
JT have been, and the consequence was
that a great deal of coldness and ill-will
lay between him and some of these
neighbors. The origin of this ill-will
could be traced, in most instances, to
some denial of a service or favor asked
in by-gone time. Former Brill was a
stanch j believer in the doctrine of selfhelp
; he asked no favors and gave none,
except grudgingly and with a bad graoe.
And yet, hidden away down in "his heart
and covered over by selfishness and the
love of gain, was an element of kindness
that often stirred his nature and tried to
assert itself in action.
The farmer sat in his shady porch one
1 1 a a a. i ? ?
iuvtujr uniuuiu uay, irjing to enjoy nimself.
His fields bad been reaped and his
barns held the treasures of golden grain
which the generous earth Lad given nim.
All around him bent fruit-laden branches,
and the air was musical with bees gathering
honey for his hives. But, somehow,
he was not happy. A neighbor rode
past and bowod to him coldly.
"Miserable fellow 1" Baid the farmer
in his heart. "I can't bear the sight of
him."
Another went by and the farmer turned
his head so that no sign of recognition
might pass between them. He knew
this man to be in trouble, and he never
cared to have anything to do with men
in difficulties; they were apt to want
help or favors, and to be offended when
denied them.
Then the voice of a child called to him
from the road: "Cau't I have some apples,
Mr. Brill?"
"No, you can't 1" growled the farmer.
"Off with you 1 I don't believe in beg%
gars-"
The last sentence was spoken to himself,
half in excuse and half in repentance
for the selfishness and ill-nature he had
betrayed.
Farmer Brill did not feel any more
comfortable after this. The frightened
look of the child as he added a threaten
ing gesture to nts Hard speech remained
with him and he could not shut it from
%is eyes, turn them which wav he would.
Nor did he see them lees distinctly when
he shut his eyes and hung his chin upon
his breast. Just how long he had remained
in this attitude the farmer oould
not say, when a click from the latch on
the gute caused him to look up and he
saw a little woman in plain attire ad%
vancing up the walk. She was a stranger
and yet tnere was something familiar
about her. The freedom and plainness
of speech with whioh she at once ad
dressed bim did not so mnoh surprise ?
shame the farmer.
" It was not well of thee, Frient
Brill, to denv with harsh words the re
qnest of a child. Thy trees are ladei
with fruit and the ground is coverei
with thy unused abundance. The<
might have given the child one litth
apple."
Tho woman stood with her calm, ac
casing eyes fixed on the farmer's face
they seemed to penetrate his soul and t<
read his very thoughts.
"No, it was net well of thee, Frieni
Brill," she repeated.
"I hate begging," answered th<
farmer, rallying himself.
" That was not common begging anc
thee knows it," replied the stranger.
"The child's father should have bat
fruit on his own trees. But he was toe
idle to plant them and now his childrer
go begging of his neighbors."
" That is not his children's fanlt. I
the poor little ones are hungry for applei
and thee has more than theo can use whi
shall thee not be a better father in re
gard for them than he who is of theii
own flesh and blood ? Would thee noi
give thy own children apples?"
4 4 My own children ! That is nnothci
thing. I have taken care of my owi
children."
44 The earth is the Lord's and tho full
ness thereof, and we are all His children,"
answered the little woman. 44H?
gives in charge to some His broad grain
fields and fruitful orchards that the}
may fill barns and storehouses, and la}
up food for the hungry and seed for the
sower, so that His people die not !oi
lack of bread. Does thee think that th}
trees bear fruit and thy fields give theii
harvests for thee alone ? If thee does,
thee lias not understood the ways of Goc
with men."
The farmer did not reply. He wsu
dumb in the presence of the stranger
dumb because of sudden convictions
and a new light breaking into his sou
that blinded and bewildered him.
44 Thee has thought and cared only foi
thysolf and for thy own until now," saic
his visitor, 44 but there is a truer and i
better life before thee. Thee must grow
broader and more generous. Tli66 must
become a giver instead of only a receive]
of good things. Thee must learn the
meaning of tnat wise saying : 4 To give
is to live.' Will thee not go with me ?'
And the little woman turned from th<
Eorch, Farmer Brill rising and following
er.
44 Thee must bring a basket of applet
with thee," said the woman, pausing a
the gate.
The farmer filled a great basket ant
took it on his arm.
44It is so kind of you, sir!" said tin
weary looking woman in whose poor lit
tie home he set down the buaket. Anc
her grateful looks and tones sent to hii
heart a feeling of warmth and pleasure,
purer and deeper than he had knowr
for a long, long time.
44 Thee understands, now," said hit
companion, as they left the cottage,
44 what a true, sweet life thee may live il
thee will. God has given thee of his
earthly bounties more than a hundred
fold beyond thy needs, and leisure tc
care for thy neighbors, and health in
thy declining years. And yet thee if
not happy. Why ? Thee is still trying
to live for thyself alone."
mi - * ?
mo wuruH ui mti speniter uiea on
Farmer Brill's ears ; and at the same instant
another voice roused him to another
presence. It was that of his
wife. <
" How sound asleep you were, An
drew! I don't like to have yon sleep sc
heavily in the daytime. It isu't good.'
The farmer started up with a bowii
dered air.
" Why, Andrew 1 What ails you i
What have you boon dreaming about ?'
" Oh 1 It was a dream ! Yes, I see.
Dreams are strange things."
And the farmer settled himself buck
in his chair and dropped his chin upor
his bosom, not to sleep again, for ho wa.'
very Wide awake now, but to ponder on
what he had heard from the lips of the
monitor, who had come to him in n
vision.
As his wife went back into the house
Farmer Brill heard the sound of a horse's
feet in the road, and looking up saw one
of his neighbors a little way off. It was
now over live years siuoe he Inul denied
somo trifling favor to this man, and
there had been coldness between them
ever since. At sight of him the farmei
had an uncomfortable feeling, and dropped
his eyes, intending not to see him.
But this only made him feel the mort
uncomfortable. So, with a self-corn
polling effort, he rose from his seat and,
walking out through the gate that open
ed upon the road, met his neighbor, saying
in as cordial a tone as he oould introduce
into his voice: "Good morning,
Mr. Holden."
" Good morning, Mr. Brill," returned
the neighbor, a little surprised at thif
unusual friendliness. H,o drew up hi*
horse, and leaning down took the farm
er's offered hand.
" How is Mrs. Holden ?"
"Well, thank you ! And how jus Mrs,
Brill?"
"Hearty for one of her years."
" And yonr own health ?"
"Can't complain. A little stiff witl
rheumatism sometimes ; but I suppose ]
ought to be thankful that my limbs an
not all twisted out of shape like pooj
John Gardner's. By the way, how if
Gardner?"
"Very badly off," replied the neigh
bor, with pity in hio voice. " Has not
been able to do a day's work these tw<
months."
" Is that so ? Poor fellow I" Farmei
Brill dropped his eye to the ground anc
stood thinking. And then the words h<
had heard in his dream began repeating
themselves in his thoughts : .
" He gives to some His broad grain
? fields and fruitful orchards, that they
may fill barns and storehouses and lay
I up food for the hungry and seed for the
- sower, that His people die not for lack
1 of breod. God has given theo of His
1 earthly bounties more than a hundred3
fold beyond thy own need, and leisure to
j care for thy neighbors, and health in thy
* declining years. And yet thee is not
- happy, for thee is still trying to live for
; thyself alone."
3 " How does ho live ?" asked the farmer,
raising his eyes from the ground,
1 and looking up into his neighbor's face.
"His family would have suffered in
3 many ways and his children gone often
hungry to bod if some of us had not
1 looked after him."
"I had no idea it was so bad," said
1 the farmer. " Hungry children ! I
3 can't stand that. I must go and see
i him."
"I wish you would. It's a real case
f of charity.'
s " I'll go right off," said tlio farmer,
7 turning away and going back into the
- house.
r "I wondgr what's come over the old
t man ?" So the neighbor mused as he
rode away. ' Hope he is not going to
r die. I always thought he had a tender
l place somewhere in his heart if one only
knew how to find it. Ho was a right
- generous sort of a fellow when a voung
- man, but lie was thrifty, and thrift
j seemed to harden him."
Half an hour afterward Farmer Brill
r drove off in his light wagon. There was
r a marvelous change in the expression of
) his fine old face. His eyes had a new
r luster in them, and the luudlier temper
r of his blood was softening and warming
r all the hard lines that hail compressed
, themselves about his mouth ahd cut
I down rigidly between his brows, giving
them a nobler and deeper human sentii
ment. In his wagon was a bag of flour,
; a bushel of potatoes, a side of bacon and
} twenty pounds of salt pork, besides corn
1 meal and apples.
When Farmer Brill returned his heart
r was so light that it gave a new buoyancy
L to his body, and instead of moping about
i or sitting half-stupidly in his arm-chair
r he went bustling in aud out in a cheery
t way, and talked to his wife of this neiglir
bor and tliat with a kindly interest alto)
gether new.
5 '' It is more blessed to give, sometimes,
* than receive," said Mrs. Brill to her
3 husband, as he told her, with a now quails
it.v ctf rtlpiumra in lii?a vdipa nlmnt. l>in
visit to Mr. Gardner and his family,
s "It mny be always," he answered, to
t her surprise. "It must be," he added,
after a hesitating pause, "if our Savior's
I words are true, for He puts in 110 qualifying
'sometimes.'"
5 The old man sat very still, with a
- sober, inlooking expression on his face.
I " Ho knew best, Andrew ; but very
i few of us livo as if we thought He did."
, The farmer's sleep was not so sound
i that night as usual ; thought was too
busy, Not that ho was troubled, for
j the pleasure that camo with ministering
, to his stricken neighbor had gone too
f deep and tilled his heart too largely to
? leavo room for trouble. He was thinking
- out of himself?a rare experience for
Farmer Brill ; thinking of some of his
i neighbors, and how he might serve them
i at little cost to his hoarded substance.
f It was too early in the new state upon
which ho had really entered to count
i much cost against himself.
The farmer rose on the next morning
fueling like a new man. The rest and
i comfort of mind which had come as tlio
reward of kindness to John Gardner still
remained. Good-will to others is rarely
> satisfied with a single service. It was so in
' tb is case. The family of his sick anil help
hiss neighbor had other needs than that
of food. He had seen the half-clad
1 children and the wife's worn und scanty
' clothing, and the picturo remained with
him.
44 Can't you send Mrs. Gardner nn
; old dress or two?" said Mr. Brill to his
i -wife as they sat nfc the breakfast bible,
i 44 Sho needs them badly. If you'll make
i tip a bundle of things for her and the
) children I'll hitch up and take them over,
i You'll know what they want"
Mrs. Brill was not the woman to say
> 44 No "to a suggestion like this. She
t soon had a bundle of clothing ready for
i her husband, and off ho went again on
i his errand of mercy with a glee aud
[ warmth in his bosom that sent a feeling
[ of delight along every norve. How cori
dial were all the greetings he gave to
passing neighbors ! He forgot old
grndges aud coldnesses, and drew np
his horse more than once to have a chat
i with the individuals whom he had passed
the day tioforo with only an indifferent
, nod.
He sat for over an hour with John
Gardner, talking about old times?both
had grown up in the neighborhood?and
, learned many things ho might have
learned before that interested him deep
L ly about the life of the poor man, and
i that aroused his sympathies,
i "Don't get down-hearted," wore his
- parting words, at the close of his visit.
" We'll see that yon're taken care of
until the doctor drives ont your old
malady."
The grateful looks and tones in which
the man expressed his thankfulness lived
with the farmer as pleasant memories
1 long afterward.
[ " Thomas," said Mr. Brill to his hired
i man, on returning home, " take a bnshelr
basket out into the orchard and fill it
i with the largest and soundest apples that
have fallen from the trees."
" Yes, sir. And what shall I do with
b them ?"
) " Bring them hore, and I'll tell you."
" Here they are, sir," said tho hired
r man, ten minutes afterward.
I "Very welL Now carry them down
> to Widow Sloan, and give her my oom>
pliments, and say to her that if she
wishes to pare and dry a lot for winter
> she can have as many as she wants."
Thomas opened his eyes a little wider
than usual, and with a "Thank'ee, sir,"
as if ho wero the one who had received j
a favor, swung the basket to his shoulder
and went off with a springy step, iD
marked contrast with his ordinary slow,
heavy movement.
The unexpected promptness and
cheerfulness with which, his hired man
seconded this thoughtful kindness toward
the widow was another element of satisfaction.
Thomas was apt to be a littie
cio.ts at times, and especially when called
upon for some unusual service; and Mr.
Brill had looked for a cloudy face and a
sullon manner when he gave liis order.
He gazed after the man as he went hurrying
away, wondering at his changed
demeauor. He was still sitting in the
porch when Thomas returned.
" Well, Thomas, and what did Mrs.
Sloan say?"
"Oh, sir, I can't tell you how surprised
and happy she was; and she told
me to thank you a thousand times."
"Will she pare and dry them for winter
?"
" Indeed and she will, sir. She sat
right down and went to work while I
was there, and says sl^'ll have 'em all
out on the shed drying to-morrow morning.
It was real kind aud thoughtful in
yon, sir. It's such a pity to have things
go to waste, when so many would bo
glad to get them."
Master and man wero busier than
usual in the summer and autumn days
that followed, not alone in gathering
mid storing of their abundance, but in
gathering and dispensing as well. Nothing
was permitted, as in other years, to
go to waste. Tlio bushels and bushels
of apples which had once rotted under
the trees; the over-supply of turnips
and other root crops which had lain unused
in cellar or storehouse, wore all distributed
to the poor; and there was
plenty through the winter in many an
humble home where in former seasons
pinching need had been felt.
There was a heartiness about him
never seen before. His old grudges
against some of his neighbors died out.
Ho would stop men in the road for a
pleasant chat whom for years he had
passed with a distant nod. Tho farmer
had found a new pleasure, the joy of
which was pervading his whole being
and its sunshine warming and softening
the cold, hard exterior of his life and
making it attractive and beautiful.
And ho never lost the glow of this
pleasure in all the years that were added
to his life: and when at last his work
was done and he iay in that deep sleep
which has no waking in time, there were
hundreds to bless his name and to look
their last look on his peaceful face with
eyes that ran over with tears.
Production of Cheese.
The whole amount of cheese made in
the United States, in 1870, says " Appleton's
Cyclopaedia," was 162,927,382
pounds, of which 109,435,229 pounds
were made in factories, and 53,929,382
pounds on farms. The principal States
producing cheese were New York, 100,776,014
pounds; Ohio, 24,153,856; Vermont,
7,814,870 ; Illinois, 5,734,004;
Massachusetts, 4,141,309; and California,
3,395,074. There were 1,313 factories
devoted to the manufacture of
cheese, employing 4,607 hands. The
amount of capital invested was $4,690,075;
wages paid during the year, $706,r?p.c,
Arc. Ann.
t/uu, Ul U1UIV UX5CU, X 1
value of all materials used, 81-4,089,284;
of cheese produced, $10,710,669; other *
produets, $01,090. The uumberof cows f
supplying one factory ranges from 100 j
to more than 1,900, the average being
about 400. In 1871 a factory in Chau- ^
tauqua county, New York, had registered r
as the whole number of cows, 1,034. j
During tho yoar ending June' 30, 1873, r
00,204,024 pounds of cheese, valued at .
$7,752,918, wore exported from the
United States, of which 52,956,920 *
ponnds went to England, and 8,428,490 j
to Germany.
Her Views About It.
At tho famous Ward will trial, ut De- t
troit, " Aunt Emily " Ward was intro- f
dnced as a witness, and promulgated her ^
views on the murriage relation to the (
following effect: i
Mr. Romeyn?Did you say that Cap- j
tain Ward was liko dough in the hands j
of his wife ? i
Witness?T mav have said that T
Ray tliat of every man who baa a wifo. .
(Laughter.)
Mr. Hughes?Tlint's right. I would ,
say so too ; I think it is every married j
man's duty to say so."
Mr. Romeyn?Do you remember say- ,
ing, in a conversation with young Mr. ,
Ely and Mary, something like this : " If ,
1 should say, ' Eber, here is a red chair,'
ho would say, ' Certainly it is a red ,
chair and if Kate should come in the ,
next minute and say, ' The chair is |
black,' he would say, 4 Oh, yes, it is .
black?'"
Witness ? Certainly. I think any j
married man would say that. (Laughter.) ,
Mr. llomeyn?I believe you were f
never married. r
Witness (laughing)?No, sir. I '
What He Preferred. J
Bhe was a romantic young lady, and t
he, her father, took a practical view of <
everyining, one looKod np from her
book in botany anil inquired :
44 Fathor, did yon ever ntndy botany?"
Ho was interested in his paper and
did not reply, and presently sne continned
:
44 Papa, what flower do yon prefer?"
41 Flour, eh?" ho replied as he looked
up, 41 why, I always get that from winter
wheat, if I can?I think it makes
better bread I"
She sighed and wished there was a
young man on the other sido of the sofa.
A DESPERATE FELLOW.
rhe Career of a United States Officer?Ilia
Final Death. ^
The complications surrounding the
Pocahontas mine, Colorado, situated at
Etosita, not far from Canon City, have ?
inally resulted iu a fierce and fatal oonlict,
by which one life has been aacri- b
Iced, if not more. The man killed was
ho notorious Major Graham, who was ^
veil known in Denver as one of the 0
nost dangerous of daring desperadoes.
The major was a native of New York,
ind in the early part of the war became '
conspicuous as a partisan commander of r
ho Union forces m North Carolina. He E
van a perfect athlete, a splendid horsenan,
on accurate shot, and as daring ?
ind unscrupulous as any man who ever l
Irew a saber. For his services he was v
appointed, at the close of the war, a first
icutenant in the regular army, and as- g,
ligned to duty in the West. By the ser- _
rices he rendered against the Indians, Q
nuuu uy wore or lens political lunuonce, i
liieut. Graliam soon became a full-blown
najor, and as such became a special fa- y
rorite at Fort Leavenworth and in the t
sity of that name. While at this post he v
)aiil his addresses to one of the most at- n
ractive ladies of Leavenworth, and it
vas only by accident that the marriage a
vas not consummated. p
The night previous to the daymen i!
vhicli the ceremony was to take place, a
he commanding officer at Fort Leavenvorth
received direct instructions from
he wax department to place Major Gra- c
jam in irons, and keep him in solitary ft
:ontiuemont till further orders. Al J1
hough the order created an immense .
lurpriso at the fort, it was literally obey!d,
and Major Graham found himself in
t felon's cell, instead of occnpying, as J
le had hoped, a bridal couch. A court ?
nartial, however, subsequently explain- ^
id what seemed at the time to be inexjlioable.
Tlio ovidcnce before the oourt ^
iHtablishcd the fact that Major Graham,
vhile wearing the uniform of a United m
States officer, had been the secret head b
if a baud of horse thieves in Kansas; c
iad also, while in Utah, been in league p
with the lowest class of gamblers and b
hieves; and that he had systematically
stolen and sold horses from the stables 0
)f the government. The oourt martial r
lentenced the major to be dishonorably ?
lismissed from the service, to be do- p
carred from, ever holding any office of 0
honor or trust under the government,
and to serve a term of ten years inamili- .
tary prison. Through some unknown
influence this sentence was indorsed ,
anly so for as it related to the dismissal
)f the major from the service.
As soon as he was in possession of a
lualifled freedom, the major started for
Denver, and hero became, as of yore, ii
he associate of evil and dangerous e
ilasses. His first attempt at public h
obbcry was made on Paymaster Brooks, o
it River Bend. J?or this offense he was e
.ried and sentenced to two years in the
jenitentiary. Before his term expired ^
le organized an escape, which proved
jartially successful. We say partial, j
jecause he and his associates make good Q
heir escapm, but they were all subsepiently
captured, one of them being ^
dlled, and the major himself severely
rounded. Ho served out the rest of
lis term, and, when released, went to
losita, where he opened a whisky den.
t was here that he arranged, with n
(there, the "jumping" of the Poca- ?
lontas mine. The "jumpers" took P
(ossession of the mine and held it until "
ill the miners in the neighborhood re- c
lolved on clearing the mine of its fraudu- a
ent possessors. This was done by a r'
lesperate fight, tlio "jumpers" that J1
vere not killed being obliged to fly. "
die major was caught on his way to
itosita. On being halted, he turned to ']
un, but fell dead in his tracks, pieroed t<
jy some twenty-five balls. Graham's ^
lartner, a man named Boyd, was vt
crested shortly afterward, and was n
mug- li
n
The Wrongs of the Red Mau. H
The long series of wrongs heaped n
lpon the aborigines of America ever 4
lince the discovery and settlement of
his country has nothing more heartless 8
)r pathetic than the* story of the Temecu- 8
a Indians of California. We are accus- a
omed tlf speak of the cruelty and ^
reachery of the savage, says the New ^
i'ork Herald, but the avarice and inhu- 0
nanity of the white man are even more ^
prominent features in American history. t
tn a little more than two centuries the j
mtives have been driven from the At- fl
antic to the Rocky mountains and tribes j
is countless as the leaves of the forest a
reduced to a mere handful of half-starved ^
ivretches. The brave is no longer a warrior,
but a loafing and treacherous mur- .
lerer, and the Indian has no rights anywhere.
If he refuses to go upon a reser- H
ration necessity requires that he shall ^
>e exterminated, If he putl himself u
luder the fostering care of the whites, rj
10 is sure to be robbed first and allowed q
:o starve afterward. Go where he will, r
" civilization," in one form or another, is ^
mre 10 ioiiow mm ana u> oppress mm. t
ro this fate the Temecnla Indians are no .
exception. Indeed, the story of their
nisfortunes is one of tho most pathetio j
)f the whole series. A hundred years 1
igo their children swarmed on the Pacific
^ast. Now they are reduced to a beg- h
jarly five thousand. Then the whole a
and was theirs. Now there is not a foot c
A ground they oan call their own. Re- o
renting l>efore advancing civilization, hey
at last settled down among a cone b
>f the Ban Bernardino mountains; but t!
ho white man from over the seas coveted a
he spot for a sheep pasture, and the fi
lative is not even left room enough to li
itarve without disturbance. One French- t
nan and two Sootchmen have ousted the s
original lords of the soil, and their sheep t
;raze iu the Indian's last retreat. a
Items eff Interest.
Epizooty almost everywhere.
A man has been arrested for taking
bings as they copie.
What's in a name ? D. Seaver drives a
it. Louis milk wagon.
A bookseller lately advertised that he
lad plenty of scarce books for sole.
Madame MacMahon collected 24,384,05
francs for the sufferers by the Girinde
inundation.
Old laoe is the object of the latest
ashionable mania, and the factories are
unning double time to supply the de-.
[land.
The population of Massachusetts, with
he exception of one small town, is
,647,413 : the total number of legal
oters 340,056.
Cortina's friends near Tamaulips are
till powerful, and menace with death all
rho have taken sides against their chief
r were responsible for his arrest.
Now is the time for weather prophets
0 feel the bark on their dogs. If it is
hickest on the north side of the dog, it
rill be a oold winter, and he will howl
inch at nights.
Coal oil has been struck at Park Ridge,
suburb of Chicago. The land was
ireviously thought to be worthless, and
1 is now proposed to form a company
nd work the well.
A druggist in Bethel, Maine, after
losine his store, the other nisrht. was
t tended home by a large bear, which
lade 110 threatening demonstrations,
ut only left him when he got inside his
ouse.
At a New York restaurant the other
ay a man inquired, reading from a bill
f fare : " What is this sirloin of beef a
i financiers ?" " I suppose that is a out
rom the Stock Exchange bull," replied
lis friend.
Davis, the Toronto abortionist, who,
rith his wife, is to be hanged in Deoem'or,
threatens unless his sentence is
ommuted to publish a full list of his
?itrons and all particulars as to his diabolical
business.
In ancient Borne all candidates for
fflce were aooustomed to dress in white
obes, as emblematic of the purity of
heir past lives and future aspirations;
tenoe their name from candius, white
andidates, whitened.
The biggest canoe ever built has been
>ought from Moquillah, a chief in Britsli
Columbia, and will be sent to the
Jentennial. It is sixty feet long and
ight feet wide and four feet deep, and
arries one hundred passengers.
The boundry line in the far northwest
i being marked by cast iron pillars,
ight feet high, set in the ground four
eet, at distances of a mile from each
ther. The English and American gov
rnments set tne posts alternately.
A woman in Minneapolis reoently asjuLshod
a crowd who were trying to
tart a balky horse by thrnsting a handal
of dost and sand into the animal's
louth, exclaiming: "There he'll go
ow." To the surprise of every one,
be horse started immediately without
bowing the least stubbornness or exitement
An expert in fine penmanship reoently
lanaged to write several thousand words
n a postal card, and the smart oountry
ostmaster where it was mailed thinking
bis altogether too much writing to be
arriod around the oountry for one cent,
rnt it to tho dead-letter offioe. It was
eturned with the decision that it makes
o difference how mnoh a man writes if
e only gets it all one side of the card.
The kind of whisky they have in
Frisco: "After that the cloth was
x>k off, and the liquors war bro't in.
md wot liquors they was, too! The
dusky was none of this yer kind that
lakes a man feel like sayin': *1 kin
ick any sou of a gun in tho house,' and
rnkes him smash things generally. No,
ir. It was the kind that jist makes a
ion lift his glass up gintly, and say:
Joe, old pard, I'm lookin' at yer.' "
In preparing lard for the market, it
honla first be out into pieces about the
ize of a walnut, and these should be
llowed to stand in water for half an
tour. Then work the material with the
lands in five or six successive portions
if water. Next pour off the water, melt
he lard in a water bath, and strain
hrough fine linen. In the first strainug,
it will be impossible to get rid of
,11 the water; so that after and draining,
t will be necessary to remelt the lard
nd finally to filter it through paper in a
rarm closet
A good paint for barns and outhouses
9 made as follows: Put one-half bushel
f good lime in a clean barrel, and add
efficient water to make a thin whiterash
; stir it well with a flattened stick
ntil every lump of lime is dissolved,
'hen add fifty pounds mineral paint,
fty pounds whiting, fifty pounds
oad dust, finely sifted. Mix to a thick
?">ic WIW1 UUOCJCU U1I M1U Will glMAUMAjr
? the proper consistence with sweet
nttermilk, fresh from the churn. The
overing quality is in proved by the adition
of one gallon soft soap.
The son of a wealthy merchant in a
irge seaport was troubled with epilepsy,
nd the father was advised by Ids physiian
to send him to sea. He was sent
ff with many prayers and mhoh baggage
-was to be exempt from all labor, and
y no means to climb a mast. One day
he captain "heard something drop, '
nd to his horror found the youth had
alien from the masthead, whither, boyike,
he had ventared. On picking him
ip, they found ho had nn Uined but
light injury, and the strange pert of
he story is that he never bad another
.ttaok of his disease.