The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, April 19, 1876, Image 1
THE TRIBUNE.
VOL. II.?NO. 22. BEAUFORT, S. C., APRIL 19, 1876. $1.50 PER ANNUM.
The Three Callers.
Morn called fondly to a fair boy Btrsying
'Mid golden tnoodows rich with clover dew;
She calls?but he still thinks of naught save
playing;
And so she smiles, and waves him adieu !
While ho, still merry with his flowery store,
Dreams not that morn, sweet morn ! returns
110 more.
Noon ccmcth?but the boy to manhood growing.
Heeds not the time?ho sees but one sweet
form,
One young fair face, from bower of jaemino
glowiDg.
And all hie loving Ueart with bliss ib warm;
So noon, unnoticed, seeks the western shore,
And man forgets that noon returns no
moro.
Night tappoth gently at a casement gleaming
With the thin firelight, flickering and low,
By which a gray haired man is eadly dreaming
O'er pleasures gouc?as all life's pleasures
go;
Night call him to lior?as ho leaves his door,
Sileut and dark? and he returns no more.
MISS CRIMME'S ROMANCE.
?
At t'.o extreme end of the main street.
in a quiet New England town, there
was a low, rambling stone house. A
portion of it was overran bo with vines
that some of the windows were quite
hidden. There was all around it a small
space of gronnd thickly planted with
trees. Miss Jane Crimme lived in the
house, aud had lived there for many
years. Before, her mother had lived
there also a long time, aud when the old
lady became an invalid and bed ridden,
her daughter took her plaoe at the head
of the house, and so strongly did Miss
Jame resemble her mother, that when
the latter passed away, things went
on exactly as ever, and it seemed as if
the old lady and her daughter had been
merged into one person, so that people
ealled her Mrs. Jane or Mrs. Crimme.
Miss Jane was far from being a homoly
person ; through the traees of time
and suffering might easily be seen the
remains of past beauty, but hardened
and so sorrow stricken, that a great fear
fell on the yttlo maid, Elizabeth, Whenever
she appeared.
Elizabeth was the maid-of-all-work,
and a living deliance to those rules
which arrange a certain harmony between
people and their names. Having
been taken from some asylum or charity
school, and being much astonished at
everything differing from her past associations,
her face had acquired a chronic
look of utter amazement, somewhat
lightened by a pair of perfectly round,
large black eyes. Her general appearance
was rather remarkable, too, on account
of the evident unrestrained exercise
of her own taste in matters of dress,
which was not altogether above critioism.
Her favorite post was at a window
commanding something of a view
of the main street, at whitm, at short
intervals, during the entire day, she
was to be seen lean iu g her chin on her
two hands, and her olbows on the window
ledge, with the prominent portions
of her face pressed flat against the
glass, wliieh practico had not improved
the regularity or form of her features.
At the least noise she vanished as though
the earth had swallowed her, the' faot being
that phe dropped herself on the
floor and crawled to tho scene of her
duties, as though the window alone was
to be feared by allowing her to be seen.
Miss Crimme was really kind and gentle.
bilk V.ll'lllhflHi r?nnli1 nnu?? nniln
accustom herself to the tall figure, and
sovore, sad face of her mistress.
AHas Crimme's mother had first come
to the town many years before, qnite
alone. Dor peculiarity of attending exclusively
to her own affairs, and leaving
those of her neighbors alone, had at
first, naturally, of course, excited curiosity
and suspicion, but as years passed
on, and nothing occurred to feed the one
or keep alive the other, they died out,
and the old lady was spoken of with respect
and left ontirely to herself. Even
the arrival of her daughter, of whose
existence many were ignorant, some
years after her removal to the town,
caused but little remark.
Miss Jane was then a handsome woman
. of about twenty-three. It was said she
i came from abroad ; indeed, several
stories were set afloat, but soon wore
forgotten for some more interesting
subject of gossip. She was quiet in her
manner, and very retiring and reticent,
as if under a restraint, at first, but this
soon grew to a habit. Shortly after her
oqming, her mother was taken ill, and
from that time never loft her room exoept
to be carried to her last resting
plaoe.
Prom the time of her mother's illness
Mips Crimmo assumed the head of the
hoilfM. All/1 ou T nnnn 1 \ofnrn nnirl onom_
, ??, ?. ^ --- ? ?I
. ed ho like h~r mother in her ways and
appearance, that she was called Mrs.
Cnmmie, and the old lady herself was
forgotten Homo time before she passed
away.
Elizabeth was seated, one afternoon,
on tho back of a chair at the kitchen
window, greatly absorbed in the occasional
passing by of a pedestrian, when
a violent knock at tho door caused her
to drop instantly on the floor. Bhe remained
there some moments, entirely
forgetful of hor doty to open tho door.
At a second knook she tremblingly went
to tho door. This she carefully secured
with a chain, to prevent its being open?v
ed more than about four inohes, and
opening it, aud placing as much of herself
as was possible in the opening, she
said : "Please como in, ma'am I" utterly
unconscious of the impossibility of
any compliance with her request.
It was the postman.
Elizabeth never remembered having
seen the postman at the house before,
and was consequently greatly alarmed
as well as amazed.
" A letter for Mrs. Crimme."
And he left in the hands of the
trembling and still terrified maid a
small note with the postmark of the city
on it, and sealed with black.
It was some minutes before she sufficiently
recovered to close the door.
Thon she carefully wiped off the lotter
on both sides with her apron, and folding
it up in that article of dress, went
to Miss Crimme's room.
She knocked timidly.
The clear, even voice of Mies Crimme
came in reply:
" Como in 1"
Elizabeth oponod the door carefully,
and squeezing herself in, shut it to
hastily, as though she wero afraid the
occupant might escape.
"Please, ma'am, it was the postman,
aud he's been and gone and left a letter,
ma'am !" with two quick courtesies, and
widely opened ej'es fixed on Miss
Crimme, who sat near a wood fire, reading
from a ionrnal.
Give it to me," said Miss Crimme,
closing her book, while a slight flash
overspread her face.
Elizabeth slowly approached and
gave the letter, without removing her
eyes from her mistress.
MiRs Jane took it, broko the seal,
slowly unfolded tno letter and read it.
As phe did so, a strangely bright expression
came over her face, and she looked
almost lovely by the red light of the
fire.
Elizabeth stood by, greatly wondering,
till her mistress, suddenly remembering,
said :
" You may go, Elizabeth ; and, if yon
wish, go out for an hour, no longer, or
yon may sit by the window, if you
choose."
"Yes, ma'am?thank'ee, mips!" and
she retired as she had entered, carefully
closing the door, lest Miss Jane might
escape.
In Miss Crimme's lap lay the letter,
while her eyes studied the red coals of
the fire, and a smile played over her
generally sad and stern face.
This was the letter :
" Can you forgivo and forget the
past? I have suffered much, but my
feelings for you are unchanged. Write
me but one word. I am ill, and lonely,
and dying."
Then followed an address.
Miss Crimme was thinking?remembering.
She was but human, after all.
There are, in the world, a few true na
tures?weak, they are called?which
neglect, inconstancy or insult even, can
scarcely change or shake in their allegiance
to the object beloved. Besides,
actions viewed through the vista of long
years look wonderfully different.
Miss Jane aroie aftor a few minutes,
and. sroinc to a small wrilin?* t#liln
wrote the answer. And the one word
requested was:
*' Oome."
One or two days after the letter oame,
Miss Jane informed the astonished
Elizabeth that a gentleman was coming
to stay with them, and that the best
spare room, which had been her mother's,
must be prepared.
The room was accordingly prepared,
and toward dusk the expected visitor arrived.
He came in a carriage. He was
evidently an invalid, or had been quite
ill.
Elizabeth let nothing escape her as
she opened the door and called Miss
Jane. The gentleman walked slowly
and with the aid of the ooachman. He
was quite tall, and, but for the various
wrappings around him, might have been
erect and well shaped. His face was peculiarly
handsome. All the features
were regular and finely chiseled; but
there was a something, to any one familiar
with physiognomy, painfully repugnant
in the face. Utter and intense
selfishness was plainly written there.
Narrow and contracted thoughts seemed
to be the necessary companions of suoh
a face.
Miss Jane met him at the door.
" Edward I" she exclaimed, in a voice
tremulous with emotion, as she grasped
his baud, and a world of aftection and
pity seemed expressed in her face. She
looked young again, and pretty, with
that beauty which high thoughts and
generous impulses give to a countenance.
''At last, Jeannette?Jeannette I" he
said, and his face caught something of
the brightness of Miss Jane's.
A bright light burned on the hearth
of the parlor. There Miss Jano led
him, while the coachman deposited a
small, worn and well traveled box in the
hall. Tho visitor was seated iu a large
chair by the fire, and Miss Jane stood by
him. The door was olosed.
" We meet again, Edward, after so
many years of separation," said Miss
Jaue; "and yet it seems but yestorday
since we last met. Tho long years have
rolled by?oh 1 how long and weary they
seemed iu passing?and now that they
are all 'past, it seems so short?so
short I" she repeated, in a dreamy sort
of way, and laying her hand on his
shoulder.
" My true, faithful Jeannette I" returned
the gentleman, looking up at her
with his large, beautiful eyes, and taking
her hand in his.
There was a few momenta' pause, during
which neither seemed to know exactly
what to say. At last Miss Jane
broke the silence.
"And when did von leave Paris?"
Something of the sweet expression
here seemed to die out of her faoe, and
t
Miss Jane. Slio still clung to him with
devotion.
One night thoro was a noise, late,
which roused some of the neighbors, as
a carriage drove up to Mrs. Arton's
door. Two days after, early, there was
a quiet funoral there.
Mrs. Artou was a widow.
She lived on yet many years, but
much changed. Now she was conspicuous
for doing good and relieving the
necessities of those around her. She
could be seen almost daily, her hair perfectly
white, dressed in gray, and going,
with a basket on her arm, to the poorer
portions of the town.
Elizabeth still lived with her, but
grown into a pretty young woman, still
with an inordinate love of dress. She
regarded men with great aversion, and
was n model of fidelity and devotion to
her mistress, whom she regarded at any
moment as likely to bo carried off like
Elijah or Enoch, and only wondered, as,
of course, she must do at something,
she looked away from him, and took a
seat near him.
" Ah ! Jeannette, I am at best but a
miserable fellow, but you must help me,
for there was never but one in my
wretched life who really made me feel
what I might and ought to be."
The soulless look in his eye belied the
words he spoke; he continued:
" After we parted in Paris, and you
returned to your mother, what was there
for me to do? I believed that I had
tried your patience too far. I believed
myself forsaken by you."
" Poor Edward 1" exclaimed Miss
Jane, looking up at him tenderly.
He continued: " Before I met you,
my life had beeu a thoughtless, careless
one. Obtaining a position in the army
through the influence of my mother's
relatives?who, as you remember, were
French?I led a careless life, till I met
you, just after you had left schotfl, at
your uncle's house. You were lovely,
Jeauuette "?
Miss Jaue sighed, and smiled sadly.
Edward added, rapidly: 'With that
beauty which nothing can diminish, and
which is the reflex of a noble, generous
heart. I met yoxi at your uncle's house.
I need not recall, I think, thoso happy,
happy day8 we passed together, swearing
to love each other and be true. I
was wrong, I admit it, Jeannette, but
you have forgiven me. It was only,
however, in appearance. I sacrificed
myself for a friend. Miss Jane looked
at him eagerly?every word of excuse ho
uttered, whether true or false, was only
too welcome to her.
"I frequented the house of Marie
with my friend, for he had resolved to
marry her in defiance of tho auger of his
father. You supposed it was I who
really loved her. Ah, Jenunetto, if you
had only been less precipitate, how many
years of suffering it might have spared
us-both !"
He sighed deeply as he looked into the
fire, perhaps for inspiration.
"You would hear nothing, and you
refused to see me. In vain I called,
wrote and sent messages. You were
decided. You left Europe. You left
me that cruel note. I tried in vain to
follow yon, to write you, or to explain.
All was useless. In desperation 1 married
Marie; my friend had died and left
the poor girl half heartbroken. For ten
long years I have wandered about, now
stationed in one place, now in another,
till last month, when Marie died. I met
your undo by accident in New York,
whither I had come, resolved to make
still another effort to find you. He gave
mo your address, and so soon as I was
able, after an attack of illness, I wrote
yon, and here, at last, I am with you,
my Jeaunette."
How much of it all she really believed,
it is impossible to say. One thing,
however, was certain: she had tenderly
loved him in her younger days, and long
separation, with nothing in the meantime
to occupy or distract her mind, had
hallowed and strengthened this love till
it had become a part of herself. She
knew his narrow, small character; she
knew how plausible and truthless ho
was; but there was a certain romanco
and sentiment about her old affoction
for him which was powerful still.
There was as much of sadness as of
sweetness in her smile as she turned to
him and said: " Edward 1 I do not
know if you still love me; I am much
older and changed since wo parted; but
this I know, that my old love is still
strong, and that nothing has ever altered
it."
This she said musingly, more us if
speaking to herself than to any one else.
"Ah! Jeannette," he rejoined, "you
may think ill of me; you cannot think
worse of me than I think myself. But
with your love to guide me for tho future,
I have no fears. Tell me, dearest,
shall it be, then, at last ? Can you so
far forgive me as to marry me?"
*'It may be weakness," said Jeannette*
with a melanoholy in her tone.
"My life, for years past, has not been
a happy one; its one happiness has been
iuutuuiug mj juuugui u?j n, vivni
forgive me if 1 do wrong ! ' You will
love me at least, Edward, and in a soberer
friendship, more suited to our
yearp, we shall bo happy."
Her eyes glistened in the red lirelight,
and were moist.
He seemed to misunderstand her.
" I spoke of marriage, Jeannette, and
you speak of friendship."
"I meau the same," she replied.
"The word seemed too full of happiness
for me to utter."
That was their be thro thai.
A few days later the neighbors were
somewhat surprised to hear that Miss
Jane had been married quietly in the
morning to a Lieutenant Edward
Arton.
For a while Miss Jane's life seemed
to glide on as smoothly as before, and
one heard or saw but little of her.
Sometimes, early in the morning or later
in fliA AVAninn olia to a a annn too llrin/v
with a tall and handsome gentleman,
whom all knew to be the lieutenant,
and looking happy and pretty. Soon,
however, they were seen rarely together,
then not at all, and the inmates of the
low stone house were as mysterious as
before Miss Jane's marriage. No one
knew the sorrow shut np there. The
lieutenant went off for days together
and returned as suddenly as he left, and
generally in the night. His wife, with
the blind devotion of woman, was always
ready to pity and forgive. She
soon found that ner dream was over, her
hopes a delusion ; but she still clung to
the memory. He squandered and
wasted her fortune, and treated her
with the oontempt and insolenoe a mean
and selilsh nature feels for thoeo- who
sacrifloe all to them.
Tears passed on, and told their sad
story of a breaking heart on the face of
mat mo aerial journey should be delayed.
Her eyes had never lost their
look of amazement, but she had lost all
her taste for sitting at the kitchen window,
except about the time when Miss
Jane, as she always called her mistress,
was wont to return. She met her at the
door then, with a smile. "You must
be tired, miss," she would say. " No,"
Miss Jano would answer; "not tired,
Elizabeth?one cannot be tired when
one is occupiod doing good, and forgetful
of oneself. It is the fruitless dwelling
on uio past miti wearies, or tne pursuit
of something which God does not intend
us to have."
What is Worn.
Louisine faconne is a basket-woven
silk material, with brocaded flowers of
the samo, or of two colors.
Lace scarfs, black, white, and cream
color, are beginning to be worn around
the neck in the place of furs.
The crowns of some hats and bonnets
are made of silk and lace. This is very
pretty and effective.
The dress parsoi is made of black silk,
lined with white silk and edged with a
heavy fall of black lace.
Tho latest collars for gontlemcn are
rather high, with the corners of tho ends
slightly turned back, or square.
The high round felt hat has taken the
place of the half high gentleman's hat,
formerly used for ladies' riding hats.
Ostrich tips will take the place of
birds and wings for spring dress
bonnets. No more slaughter of the
innocents.
Costumes are very elaborate,.but not
of such a costly character as heretofore,
probably owing to the economical times.
1Hh8u de matcla88e is the newest
woolen fabrio for spring dresses; it is a
damask material, reversible and richly
flowered.
Some chemises and underwaists are
made in one; that is, they have one
band, the underwaist buttoning under
the arms.
The overgarm' nt misnamed the Ulster
is really the ancient Burnous, tho common
jivercoat worn by postilions all
over Europe.
Handsome suits are made by using
light brocaded cloth goods for polonaises,
with skirts and sleeves of a corresponding
color of silk.
Among the spring overcoats for boys
I from four to seven, are some made of a
[ light gray cloth, with collar, cuffs, and
| lapels of dark gray.
The sleeve to be worn with the Cen|
tennial waistcoat and jacket is a coat
sleeve with the outside seam left open
about two inches, finished by two
buttons.
Gentlemen's hats are rather high in
the crown, aud slightly bell form; wide
bauds, narrow plain binding, but heavy
fiue worsted reps for linings under the
brims.
The most fashioi able promenade coat
for gentlemen is of fiue diagonal cloth,
dark color, olive, mulberry, or black;
cuffs rather deep, one button on and one
above.
Belts of lace, loosely fastened around
the waists of tight-fitting cuirasses, and
terminating in long sashlike ends, are to
be worn with lace parures in the spring.
A new pattern for night dresses for
ladies has three largo plaits back and
front running to tho waist line. The
standing collar and ruffe are trimmed
with a narrow ruffle.
j Play and school suits for boys are
! made of gray and blue flannel, having
knee breeches, and blouses reaching a
little below the waist, fastened in at the
waist by a belt.
Blouse waists for boys are made of
plaid percales. The new pattern extends
a quarter of a yard below the
band on which the buttons ore, and
which gathers it in at the waist.
Wolves in France.
The Journal d' Agriculture says that
the annual damage to cattle alone in
Franoe from the depredations of wolves
reaches a sum of 2,000,000 francs, to say
nothing of the loss of sheep from the
same cause. It is estimated that there
are about 1,000 breeding wolves, and
flint aKnmt O K/Vk ?V.?1 ... I
v*?uw i?uv;uw iruuipo ni c uuru in
May and June of each year. So that,
notwithstanding tho fact that about
1,800 wolves are killed annually, there
must be at looat 2,000 depredating by
April of each year. The Journal suggests
that the representatives from the
ravaged districts pay a little more attention
to the interests of those who have
elected them, and oommends the action
of the "States " (United States) in offering
a bounty of 810 tor the sealp of
ovury wildcat killed. Doubtless such a
bounty would soon exterminate the
wolVes, and would also be a national
economy, since, acoording to the foregoing
estimates, eaoh wolf in Franoe
costs the nation 1,000 francs at least.
?
The First Steamboat.
Living men remember when the idea
of steam navigation was ridiculed. They '
remember, too, that when the Clermont
went from New York to Albany withont i
the use of sails, against wind and tide, f
in thirty-two nours, ridicule was
ohanged into amazement. That voyage g
did more. It spread terror over the ?
surface of the river, and created wide
alarm along its borders. The steam- *
boat was an awful revelation to the fishermen,
the farmers, and the villagers. 1
It came upon them unheralded. It
seemed like a weird craft from Pluto's j
realm?a transfiguration of Charon's
boat into a living fiend from the infernal
regions. Its huge black pipe vomiting 1
fire and smoke, the hoarse breathing of <
its engine, and the great splash of its ]
uncovered paddle-wheels filled the imagination
with all the dark pictures of i
/ /xUl.'na tUni A ? J
gUUiliiO l/UIib lUXliUUUClO UOTO UlVUUIlUU f
since the fonndation of the world. i
Managers of river craft who saw it at
night believed that the groat red dragon {
of the Apocalypse was loose upon the j
waters. Some prayed, some fled in ter- (
ror to the shore, and hid in the reoessea \
of the rocks, and some crouched in
mortal dread beneath their decks, and .
abandoned their vessels and themselves .
to the mercy of the winds and waves, or
the jaws of the demon. The Clermont f
was the author of some of the most wonderful
romances of the Hudson, and for
years Bhe was the victim of the enmity *
of the fishermen, who believed that her e
noise and agitation of the waters would ?
drive the shad and sturgeon from the 1
river. The Clermont was a small thing
compared with the great river steamers t
now. Fulton did not comprehend the <3
majesty and capacity of his first inven- p
tion. He regarded the Richmond, the t
finest steamboat at the time of his t
death, as the perfection of that class of
architecture. She was a little more than v
one hundred feet in length, with a low, t
dingy cabin, partly below the water fc
line, dimly lighted by tallow candles, in 0
which passengers ate and slept in sti- a
fling air, and her highest rate of speed g
\jas nine miles an hour. Could Fulton
revisit the earth and be placed on one r
of the great river steamboats of our a
time, he would imagine himself to be in a
some magical structure of fairy land, or _
forming a part of a strange romance ; g
for it is a magnificent floating hotel, ^
over four hundred feet in length, and r
capable of carrying a thou-and guests ^
by night or by day from New York to
Albany at the rate of twenty miles an
huur. *
(ontennial Notes. * f
L
The last allotments of spaoe in ma- g
cliinery hall were 480 square feet to 1
dhili nnrl Sfid cnn?o foot tn *.
?! " "J U
The opening march for the inaugural t
ceremonies on the tenth of May is fa
written by the great German composer,
Wagner, in response to the invitation of g
Theodore Thomas, director of music, 8
and is to be dedioated to the Women's p
Centennial Organization of the United f
States. b
It is remarkable that the oldest na- il
tions in the world and the most distant c
have been the first to come to bring t!
their products to the youngest. Egypt, fa
Japan, Sweden and Norway have, in *
the order named, already brought their g
exhibits to the fair, before an American p
article was put in place. u
The Pennsylvania railroad oompany ^
are erecting a massive depot just outside
the grounds. It will contain every
convenience for traveling, and, thongh
temporary, will, nevertheless, possess
all the comforts that the means and facilities
of this company can oommand. ?
Work upon the dairy buildings is about
to be commenced. $
The grand division of the Sons of ^
Temperance have taken the water sup- e
ply to the thirsty in hand and have arranged
to supply ice water, free of 0
cost, on the grounds. A fountain will ?
be erected at the intersection of Bel- e
mont and Fountain avenues. The de- 8.
sign will be in the style of a Greek u
temple, twenty-five feet in diameter and ?
thirty-six feet high, inclosing a fountain ?
eight feet in diameter. This fountain ^
will contain twenty-six spigots. The _
tank will hold between 4,000 and 5,000
gallons of water, a supply fully equal, n
it is tuougui, to ine uomanu mac win a
bo made upon it. j,
Israel Putnam's Spy. Ij
Between the kill, or ereek, not far ?
from the village of Peekakill, on the
Hudson, is a high rocky ridge, on the Q
southeastern slope of which, north of the a
borough, a notable little romance occurred
in|1777. General Putnam, whose Q
exploits on the upper Hudson have made ^
that region famous in history and tra- Q
dition, was in command there. A young Q
man, a scion of a good family in Westchester
county, was arrested on suapicion
of being a spy, and was brought
kofAVA Dnlnam I In In a nnwiAn nrara
uuiuio X uvunui* vii uio pvim/u noiu
fouhd enlisting papers signed by Tryon,
and other evidenoes of his guilt. Sir
Henry Clinton sent a note to Putnam,
with a flag, claiming the culprit as a ie
British officer, and making insolent a<
threats of wrathful retaliation in oaee the g
young man should be harmed. Putnam 1
replied in writing: u
"Headquarters, 7th August, 1777." fl
" Sir.?Edmund Palmer, an offioer in g
tho enemy's servioe, was taken as a spy ti
lurking within our lines. He has been o
tried as a spy, oondemned as a spy, and tl
shall be executed as a spy; and the flag o
is ordered to depart immediately. g
"Israel. Putnam. f.
" P. S.?He has been aooordingly u
hanged." o
No spy was ever found in Putnam's g
camp after that. o
Items or latere*t.
London pays nearly one-third of the
rhole income tax of England.
Cream oolored chip hats, trimmed
rith strawberries, are m the fashionable
ntnre.
An Oregon farmer reoently plowed np
in Indian skelton, together with 800 $50
;old slags.
A well bred man makes a sandwich of
rimself when he wears two mustard
blasters.
Miss Lillian Edgarton says that
ibout five yean are required to exhaust
he popularity of the average lecturer.
To danoe well, a man should know as
ittle as possible of everything else. He
?n balance partners better if his hair is
jar ted in the middle.
The surest remedy for chapped hands
s to rinse them well after washing with
toap and dry them thoroughly by applyng
Indian meal or rice powder.
A Cincinnati policeman, looking for
itolen goods the other day, stumbled
nto a house in which there were two
jases of smallpox, and he immediately
jroke out
There are trees in California so tall
hat it takes two men and a boy to look
o the top of them. One looks till ho
fete tired and another commences where
he first left off.
The old saw about "running away
rith a.red-hot stove" has been almost
iq aiea 111 Albany, wnero a lour tnouand
pound boiler was found to be wmsng
the other morning.
"Dern yon, see if yon can catch
his," said a delighted Mississippian,
Ira wing his revolver and letting fly at a
terformer, who was executing a gun
rick and catching the ballet in his
eeth.
An ingenious method of protecting
uluable earings when their wearers arc
raveling has oome into fashion. Tsdiil
my little balls of Roman gold, whioh
pen with clasp and hinges, and effectu;
11 y inclose and oonoeal the preaious
tones.
In the oenter of a sea marsh on the
iver Teche, in Louisiana, is a beautiful
nd fertile island of over three hundred
ores, and on this island is a mass of
>ure, solid rock salt, estimated at 90,>00,000
tons. Scientific men are trying
o find out how the island oame in the
uarsh, and how the salt oame on the
aland.
They've got the laugh on a Cincinnati
ailroad man just returned from Florida.
Che story is that he and two or three
riends, after a day's fishing off the Atsrntic
coast, spread all sail on their V ' ?
mack for home, but after standing three
Lours before the wind and making no
teadway, they suddenly remembered
hat the anchor had been down all the
Lme.
A Detroit lady was trading at a dry
oods store the other day, when she ran
hort of money and asked the clerk to
at the balanoe on the books. He cheerally
agreed, and said he would send the
ill to her husband. " You'd better send
t to me," she said, as he floured up the
0 it; " I've got a peculiar husband. If
bat bill reads 911 for sugar, coffee and
aa, he'll give me the money without a
rord. If it reads for balance on dry
pods, he'll see you in Texas before he
ays it. Make it out for grooeries. It
j my duty as a good wife to pander to
is feelings.
Worse than Hazing.
The Yale Freshman had a hard time
f it in the eighteenth oentury. In
'cribncr for April there is an article on
tie ooUege by Henry A. Beers, who
notes- from the old 'regulations:
1 Every student," runs one of the old
iws, " shall be oalled by his sir name,
xoept he be the son of a nobleman, or
knight's eldest son." As between the
ollege Glasses, a strict subordination
ras enforced, and a somewhat laborious
tiquette prevailed between faeultv and
tudents. The Freshmen were almost
a the condition of fags in the English
ublic schools. The following statutes
rom a book of "Freshmen Lavs" seem
icredible, but were gravely meant, and
mtin practice:
"The Freshmen, as well as other
nder-gi ad nates, are to be uncovered, and
re forbidden to wear their hats (unless
ra dIammw ?woafVinv\ tn fKa rlivtP.
ard of the president's or professor's
ionse, or within ten rods of the person
f the president, eight rode of the professor,
and five rods of s tutor."
" A Freshman shall not play with any
lombors of an upper class without being
sked."
" In case of personal insult, a Junior
iay call up a Freshman and reprehend
im. A Sophomore, in like oase, must
btain leave from a Senior, and than he
lay discipline a Freshman."
" UWahmon alia.ll Tint ran in anllaoia
ard, or up or down stairs, or oall to any
do through a college window."
The Power of Glut Powder,
The explosive force of giant powder
i shown in this statement: A mortar,
banding at an angle of forty-five derees,
with a quarter of an onnoe of No.
giant powder, will throw a shot weigh ig
thirty-four pounds the distaaoe of
25 feet. The same charge of No. 2
iant will throw the same shot a disvnoe
of 475 feet. In an upright mortar
ne ounce of giant powder, No. 1, .
tirows a shot weighingforty-two pound*
ut of sight: and one ounce of No. 2
iant will throw the same shot 1,000
?et. The same amount of black bbatng
powder will not throw the shot out
f tue mortar. We oonelude that the
iant has great energy, and is industrial
on the oooasion of an explosion.