The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, November 08, 1876, Image 1
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The Beaufort Tribune.
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VOL. II.?NO. 51. - BEAUFORT, S. C., NOVEMBER. 8, 1876. - >, $1.50-PER ANNUM.
?
Ungathered Love.
Whou the antaran winds go waiting
Through branohes yellow and brown,
When the gray ?*i light ie failing,
, And the day ie going down?
\ - I hear tlie desolate evening eing
Of a love that bloomed in the early spring,
And whioh no heart had for gathering.
I and my lover do dwell apart,
Wo twain may never be one?
/ We shall never stand heart to heart,
Then what can be said or done,
When winds, and waters, and song birds sing
Of a love that bloomed in the early spring,
And which no heatt hal for gathering ?
When day is over and night descends.
And dank mista cirole and rise,
I fall asleep, and slumber befriends.
* For I dream of April skies.
Bat I wake to hear the silenoe sing
Of s love thst bloomed in the early spring,
. And which noheart had "for gathering.
When the dawn comas in with wind and rain
And birds awake in the oaves,
And rain drops smite the window pane,
Atid drenoh the eddying leaves?
I hear the voioe of the daybreak sing
Of a love that bloomed in the early spring,
And which no heart had for gathering.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
1 ' '
Story oT Circumstantial Evidence.
Many citizens of the State of New
York will remember the exoitement created
during the summer of 1856 by
what was generally called the "Weatherwax
Murder." The arrest, the legal
controversy concerning jurisdiction, the
flual trial, and the howl of dissatisfaction
which followed the partial ac
qoittal, are matters not easily forgotten
uy vuoao wuo men resided near the
scene of the tragedy.
The circumstances of the case were
substantially as follows : Captain John
G. Wcatherwax resided in 1856 near the
village of Plattsburg, New York. He
-) was a man cf good character, one of a
numerous family of the same name, the
settlement being known for miles
around as the Weatberwax settlement.
Captain Weatberwax was, at the time of
which we write, about thirty years of
age, and the owner of a small craft
which pliod on Lake Champluin,
trading with New York, Vermont and
Canada towns along the shore of the
lake.
The crew of this vessel consisted of
himself, his cousin, Andrew Weatherwax,
and a man named Walter Brown.
In the latter part of June, 1856, he left
Plattsburg with a oargo for Cinada, and
on the way back stopped at Pike Biver
landing, on the Canada shore, where he
was to take on a cargo of wood for
Plattsburg. During the day, while the
wood was being taken on board, a sharp
quarrel arose between Captain Weatherwax
and his oonsin Andrew, and mutual
threats were indnlged in. It was soon
over, however, but as Andrew had beoome
intoxicated, he was rather morose
dnring the entire day.
So f r, everything is plain and easily
understood ; but here the mystery begins,
and what follows is larirelv based
upon the statements of the third party,
Walter Brown. He states that after
dark (tho night was very cloudy and
starless) he was standing on the rear of
the boat, and heard the captain and his
oousin (who were at the bow) resume
the quarrel of tho day. It steadily in
creased in violenco, threats were exchanged,
and though he could see
neither of the parties, he oould hear distinctly
all that passed. The wordy war
waxed hotter, an-1 suddenly he beard a
crash as of a blow crushing through
skull and brain, succeeded by a heavy
fall, and as suddenly oil was still.
The man listened with bated breath
and trembled; his first impulse was to
rush forward and offer assistance to the
wounded man, but fear restrained bim,
and he waited the result. In a few minutes
the captain came aft, but he was
alone. Brown noticed, or thought he
did, that he was pale and excited.
Nothing was said about the quarrel,
41 4 * ' *
uu mo iwu uit'u Boon reuroa. - urown,
however, eonld not banish from his
mind the impression that a serious crime
had been oommitted. He arose early
and visited tho spot wher the altercation
took plaoe, and found Andrew's
hat, and near it marks of blood. Still
ha. did not mention his suspicions to
any one, nor make any inquiries concerning
the missing man. It seems that
he was by nature exceedingly timid, and
shrunk from the responsibility of dharg
ing a man with so serious a crime, and
from the publicity which the position
of a prosecutor would compel him to
Mm me.
The boat proceeded to Plattsburgk,
and when Andrew's relatives made inquiries
for him, the captain professed
total ignorance of bis whereabouts, saying
that he had left him at Pike River,
without notification, and gone, he knew
not whither.
Matters rested in this oondition until
eight or ten days after the occurrence,
when a body was taken from the river at
the identical dIma where fianuin
Weatherwax'a boat had been moored on
the fatal night.
The body gave ample evidenoe of
having met death by violence, as the
aknll wae crashed as by a terrible blow
from some heavy instrument. An investigation
was held, and a captain of a
vessel lying near to Gap tain Weatherwax's,
on the night in qnestion, reoog
nised the body as that of a man he had
Saaa employed on Waatherwax's boat.
He farther testified to having heard a
quarrel on that night, ending with a
scuffle and a blow, after which all was
silent. The altercation, ho thought,
proceeded from Weather wax's boat, and
he distinctly heard Woatherwax's voice
in the quarrel.
Of course suspicion was at onoe directed
to Weather wax, and as he could
| give no satisfactory explanation of his
cousin's disappearance, he was arrested.
The preliminary examination lasted for
nine days, and produced great excitement,
but resulted in his being remanded
to jail to take his trial at the next
term of court for the crime of murder.
The Weatherwaxes then became alarm|
ed. Few of them doubted his guilt ;
irdeed nothing seemed more certain;'
but thev were not willing that the name
should be disgraced by one of them dy|
ing at the hands of the hangman, so
they contributed funds, employed able
oouusel, and made the best defense possible.
Mr. MoMasters, then and now,
we believe, a leading lawyer of that
oountv, was engaged to defend him.
Mr. MoMasters examined the case, and
though he had no doubt of his guilt,
he. like a true lawver. did bin Koof. fn?
him. Not daring to take his trial on the
merits of the case, he Ruooeeded in establishing
the non-jurisdiction of the
oonrt, and locating the crime in Canada.
The criminal, for snch everybody now
believed him to be, was therefore set at
liberty, when he was threatened with
violence if he did not leave the country.
He refused, saying that he was innocent
and would not stir until he was vindicated.
While a movement was being organized
to put i he threats into execution, an
officer arrived from Canada with a requisition,
and he was taken across the line
for trial.
The trial was among the most remarkable
ever held in Oauada. The ablest
oounsel both of Canada and New York
were engaged for the prisoner, and by
postponing the trial for nearly a year,
spiriting away some of the most important
witnesses of the prosecution, and
other ingenious but questionable devices,
they sucoeeded in producing a
disagreement in one jury, and finally
brought about an acqmttal, after eighteen
months of imprisonment.
The community felt greatly outraged
by the result, and the press teemed with
denunciations of those who thus conA.
1 f?if
D]>u>tu tu cuuub jubiico. nis own counsel,
wishing to repair as much as possi- <
bh the wrong they supposed they had '
doue society by resauinga criminal from 1
a jiinfc fate, advised him to flee the ooun- ' >
try, and under another name strive by a *
be tor life to repay society for its toler- 1
ance. iu suffering him to live.
Ail such advioe the wretched man un
heeded and returned to his old home,
declaring his purpose to remain there '
until the cloud was lifted from his for- 1
mor good name. But though saved from <
the gallows, ho did not escape punishment.
The brand of Gain was npon 1
him. Everybody believed him guilty, <
his old friend 3 and neighbors avoided 1
him, he was pointed out as a murJerer, <
and bit supposed crime was even hooted t
in his ears many times as he parsed <
through the crowds in the public '
streets. <
' Thus the unhappy man passed eleven <
years of his life, submitting quietly and 1
meekly to the aspersions cast npon him,
and waiting patiently for his vindication.
His loss of character had brought
with it loss of property; business men
shunned him, the better avennes of
trade and enterprise were closed against
him, and he became reduced almost to
beggary. But amid all these misfortunes
he was still hopeful.
Thus matters stood till the early part
of Ootober, 1867, when s man clothed in
tho garb of a sailor made his appearanoe
in the village of Pla'.tsburg, and inquired
for Captain John Weatherwax.
The latter was just then entering the
post-office, where a considerable crowd c
nu l aaIIaa^a/1 ? AU* *' ?
?- VUUIK1H.U ' namuj(j U|D UlflfcriUUUOn L
of the mail, and was pointed ont to the e
inquiring stranger. He made his way (
toward him, laid his hand familiarly F
npon his shonlder, and exclaimed : c
" How are yon, John f" t
John looked at him a moment in be- E
wiiderment, gave a suppressed scream, 1
and replied : i
" Great Heaven! has it oome at a
last ?" s
Turning to the crowd in the postoffioe,
which bad byjthis time become interested,
he said :
" Gentlemen, my vindication has at
last come. For eleven years I have |
borne your reproaches in silence, hop- f
ing and praying for this boor. This .is <
my oousin Andrew, for whose murder I f
have suffered a punishment many times j
worse than death." (
The men stared at eaoh other and at ?
the sailor, stupefied with wonder. An- i
drew was equally perplexed, for the ao- <
tions of both parties were to him inoom- j
prohensible.
For a short time there was a disposi- 1
tion to regard the new-comer as an lm: \
postor who had been brought forward to ]
relieve Captain Weatherwax of the dis i
orraoA fhaii'Ka/1 VI? i
MMU w??nvuou wr UI1U | UUV iUO 1
iv I entity was soon established beyond ]
qneetion, and the interest in the ease <
deepened, thousands coming from all i
parts of the Stats to see the man who <
had apparently risen from the dead. I
The account which Andrew gave of <
himself was that ho left the boat on that I
eventful evening, after the quarrel, wan* ]
dered into a rum shop a short distance i
from the landing, became engaged in a i
fight and was arrestod. In the morning I
he was brought before a magistrate and ;
fined, bat having no money, and being <
still augrv with his oonsui, he would '
not go to him for aid, and was on the
point of being taken to jail, when a i
stranger in the andienoe came forward i
and offered to pay his fine if ha would
engage to sail with him, his vessel then 1
lying at Montreal. He o onsen ted, and
tne next day they sailed for China; and \
for eleven years he had followed the
sea and never onoe communicated with
his relatives. He now heard for the ,
first time what one of them had suffered j
on his aocount. t
The matter of the blood, and his hat, ]
which, it will be remembered, was j
found on the deck, he explained by ^
stating that he had had the nosebleed r
during the day, and that some of the j
blood had probably fallen on the deok; ,
the hat he tossed upon the deck when (
ho deoided to go out in the evening, ,
t.V.V 1 It J- '
mixing u ucvwu UUU 1U IH) btCUU.
The identification of the body found, {
the quarrel, the blow, and the voice of ,
Weather wax heard during the alterca- j
tion, are mysteries never explained, j
Perjury can hardly be alleged, but there <
was certainly criminal looseness in judg- j
ment wliioh imbittered the beet years of \
an innooent man's life, and nearly sent (
him to an untimely and dishonored
grave. ,
It is hardly necessary to say that there (
was a complete revolution in feeling to- |
ward Mr. Weatherwax. Every one ]
seemed anxious to compensate by kind- c
ness and patronage for the wrongs so j
innocently inflioted before. This was (
not unappreciated. Business prospered, }
and threo years ago both Andrew and (
John G. Weatherwax were among the ,
most contented oitizens of Olinton ooun- ,
ty, New York. j
Brides at the Exhibition.
i
Of all the people who live at the Cen- 1
tennial hotels, says a letter writer, I <
think the newly married couples? i
Philadelphia is full of them, by the way i
?are the only ones who are thoroughly t
contented and happy. It makes no dif- 1
ference to them whether the potatoes <
are watery, the meats dry, or the soup \
thiu; and they don't care a pin whether t
people talk to them or not. They live j
in a littlo world of their own, and for a c
time?what a pity that it's so short a z
time?they need no conversation but f
their own, have no thought but for each
oitur. Wo have all sorts of newly mar- x
riod conples hero now, but notwith- ]
standing the many various stations in t
life which they occupy, and thu differ- e
ent parts of tho country from which 1
they come, they all act wonderfully c
alike. They all havo certain marks c
abont them which can be immediately 1
detected by even an unpractioed eye. t
[n the llrst place, it is noticeable that t
they all try to aot as if being married t
was an old story to them, and still for
tho life of them they can't help taking c
each other's hands every five minutes, e
Among other things it is remarkable j
that the young men, on the old piiuci- c
pie that " a fellow can't wed every day," g
are very extravagant with their money, c
They are so evidently against the wishes ?
of the prudent little helpmates. An- g
other thing which I have noticed is that c
the brides nearly all wear now watch- f
ahaius, the young husbands, especially t
those from the West, are very particular t
ibout their gloves, and even upon the e
warmest and most oppressive day they r
sarry a heavy shawl, in case snch a cov- j
sriug should be needed by the dear g
woman they have sworn to protect, j
rho patronizing air of ownership which c
;he young men assume is truly remark- <3
ible, while their attempts to answer c
die many questions asked by their t
wives are sometimes very amusing. One t
ucident will illustrate this? A few days c
igo in the Main bnilding a bright look- fc
ng young Western farmerjand an inno- c
sent faced little woman who had evi- t
lently jusUbecome his wife, approached d
he music At the same moment v
he band beg^un to play the opening pas- t
age of " The Wakincr of the Tjion." ?
Che little bride listened to the mnaio ii
or a moment, and then looking oonfl- t
lently np into the face of her lord and a
naster, she pressed his arm and whisper- s
d: "What piece are they playing,
Charley?" For a moment Charley was o
mzzled, bnt he had jnst beoome a hns- t
and, and evidently seeing the impor- t
anco of maintaining the dignity of the ?
osition, he qnietly drew that confiding ii
ittle woman away from the stand, say- I
g: " Ob, it's not a piece at all; they n
re jnst toning np like." And of oonrse ii
he believed him. b
: ' t
The Remains of Tecumseh. "
d
Professor Daniel Wilson has reported 8
o the Ontario goverment that the bones v
ound at Moravian town were not those
>f Tecumseh. He gives several reasons s
or the decision he has oome to, the 1'
>rincipal being that the great Shawnee d
shief's " skeleton" as submitted for s
examination contains the bonee of two h
nen, a woman, a childof abont seven, a s
leer and a dog! An Indian writes to the 1<
lOoalpress a long letter in whieh he says: 1
"When Tecumseh fell three of his Shaw- p
aeo warriors were by his side, and he a
told them that he was done, then ex- t
aired, and they carried him away im- *
mediately farther back in the woods n
irom wnere tney were lighting, and hid 1;
his body until next day. When the t
anemy had passed on those three Shew- p
nees went back and buried bim quite a v
distanoe from the battleground, tfhoro f
bheie was no other Indian present. One I
of those Sh^wnees d?ed lately, and I of t
ken heard him talk about Tecumseh, but c
he would never tell where he was buried t
and often refused money. Those Shaw- t
nees made a vow that they never would r
tell, and they kept their promise like 1
men. The reason of this secret was be- a
sause the Americans tried hard after- c
ward to find the body, and even offered t
money for it, so as to take it with them c
as a trophy of their victory, but failed, c
and I am glad of it, and I am sure it f
never shall be found." z
ME CONSUMPTION OF WHISKY, t
\
[ntrrmllDg Facta Kegnrdln* Bars aad
Bnrliarpe-i? Enermons Profits. 1
Baltimore city, says a local paper, is ?
remarkable in many wayB, and portion- '
arly in possessing more places where
;he thirsty can stop aside and take a
ittlo spirits for the stomaoh's sake,
;han any other oity of the same sizo in
;lie Union, or probably in the world. .
rhiR is rather a startling assertion, bnt
t is borne ont by figures that are even .
noro startling, and wliioh show that with
t population of 300,000 it has 2,000
talooiis, or a drinking place for every
150 of its inhabitants. This number of
taloons .includes the grocery stores
where liquor is sold in quantities of not ?
ess than one pint, and common grocer- 11
es may be olassed under the head of f
Irinkiug places with rrore propriety, J
because in the comparison "carried out ?
selow such Btores are included in the E
itatistics of other cities. ;
Now York, with a population approxi- *
natdng 1,000,000, has 6,700 saloons, or
>ne to every 175 of its inhabitants, f
Chicago,with nearlv 500,000 population, 1
ias about 2,000 saloons, or one to every E
150 inhabitants. Boston, with 300,000 e
nhabitants, has only 1,200 saloons, or 11
>no to every 291 inhabitants. Oincin- 8
lati, with about 325,000 inhabitants, c
md its large German beer drinking ele- ?
nent, comes pretty olose to Baltimore. *
with 2,100 ealoons, or one to every 165 j
nhabitants, and Philadelphia shows, J
with a population of about 600,000, *
1,700 saloons, or one to every 220 of its ?
nhabitants. These comparisons might *
jo carried out indefinitely, and with E
utuu uuw comparison wouiq come lip
noro reasons for Baltimore to blash for T
ts intemperance. The figures given of I
ho number of drinking places, or where *
iquor can be purchased, is for in excess *
>f tlie report furnished by the Women's ~
temperance Association, but they are '
aken from the reoord of the license de- *
mrtment of the clerk of the court of
Minmon pleas, and are attested by the T
eceipt of 890,000 annually by the city J3
or licenses. *
To go a little farther into figures and ?
nake an estimate of the number of each 1
.60 who drink, might exhibit the in- a
emperato habits of our people to a still ?
itronger light, but this would necessari- *
y be a mere speculation. It may be 0
soncluded that either a few persons 11
Irink immense quantities of intoxicating ?
iquors, or else the tippling habit must c
>o exceedingly common, to support the a
wo thousand saloons annually licensed ?
>y the city. ?
Saloon keepers make immense profits F
in their sales. To be charitable to the ?
laloon keeper, it may be said, for the '
>urpose of getting a data, that he pays a
>n an average eighty-eight oents per ?
jallon for whisky which he sells without a
lilution. Eighty-eight cents for one a
gallon is eleven cents for one pint. The 6
glasses generally used in barrooms are "
tailed third pints, and will hold that a
raction of a pint. For any reasonable *
oper to fill his glass more than one- "
hird full would be a breach of barroom ?
itiquette not to be passed by without ,
( mark. So it mav Vw? aai/l tl>ot ?
>ler, as a role, takes one-third of a n
;lasa, that is, one-third of one-third of a
tint, which cost the seller eleven cents, A
ir one and two-ninth cents for the J?
[rink for which the imbiber pays fifteen ?
ents for one, or twenty-five cents for *
wo; or if he pats down half a dollar for J-1
wo ho will probably get but twenty f1
ents back. So that the barkeeper gets p
tack, on a basis of twelve and one half f(
ents selling price, the price paid 10 5 22 51
imes. Out of this profit most be de- w
looted rent, bad debts, interest on incstment,
license, and possibly sotne- "
hing for a higher priced whisky, bnt he
an moke all that by dilation. It i& the
mmenso profits that tempt so many men
o follow the business, bnt they do not
11 get rich for the simple reason that n
aloon keeping is overdone. p
Hotel bars aro, as a rale,, the most lu- u
rative. A great many drinks are sent p
o rooms, and chargtd at the rate of p
wenty or twenty-five oente a drink, in ^
rhich case the profits are immoderately , (
nereaeed. Taylor's barroom, at the. ^
'onnsylvania depot at Jersey City, is p
inderstood to have made fortunes for c
bs several owners, and is considered the p
test paying institution of tne kind in p
ho country. It of course draws largely 0
ipon the railroad custom for its divi- p
lends, and frequently it sells as high as n
00 pint bottles of whisky to travelers, a]
/ho pay therefor $1.
II there were only a few first-class a]
aloons the injury done would be great- j
y onrtailed. Like seeks like, and the ^
irankard, as he descends the scale of re- ^
peotability,changes his associates at the
iigli priced saloon to one of lees preten- w
ions, and he gradnally sinks lower and ^
3Wer, until he finally reaohes the gutter ft.
rom the door of a low den in a disre- 0
ratable street. Barkeepers, as a genar- f(
1 rule, are exceedingly polite, more tj
ban well dressed, and appear to those a
?ho are not acquainted with the gnild f(
aodels of good manners and gentlemanf
behavior. The beet way for any one
o disabuse his mind of any such impression
is to take a drink and then
rith a start say : " By Qeorge, that's fi
unny; left it on the piano, by Jove I U
tanff that tit> fiillv " T* i? ?
? ?x3 -r> ??J' ?* j??vu?uro r?
bat no person has a better opportunity h
if studying human nature. His duty is C
o wait en drunken men, and he hears h
he conversation of judges, doctors, d
norohants, politicians and statesmen, tl
rhen the wine being in " the wit is out," s!
s the old adage hath it. He can judge n
>f a man's wealth by the number of *
imes he gets trusted and the infrequen- n
7 with which he settles. He can judge s
if the treatment a man extends his o
amily by the hours he stays out at o
light, and oan make a shrewd guess as r
o how long the clerk on the next street
rill hold his place.
lone at midnight the stranger oomea
n and drinks, and then tells a long
tory, which is not at all interesting to
he barkeeper, bnt he most listen to it
,ud oonoeal the fact that he is bored.
Said a gentleman the other day : "If
nen would only restrain their whisky
,ppetites to tho same extent that whisky
lealers restrain what at times must be a
eeling of disgust for their trade, how
aany of these blooks of barrooms would
to seen in Baltimore in less than three
nonths ?"
Touching Story.
A private letter from Augusta, Ga..
lontains a touching narrative of herosm
iu fever stricken Savannah, which
>ught to have a wide publication as an
oppressive illustration of the noblest attributes
of human nature. The writer
s explaining that some business delay
s caused by the grievous family afflioiou
of an assistant, and goes on to say :
The death of a young brother, in
tavannah, has thrown his whole family
nto the deepest grief?a young fellow,
lot much more than a boy, who martyrid
himself for the good of the people
offering with the yellow fever, and himell
fell a victim. He was prescription
ilerk in Lippman's drug store there,
,nd when the fever broke out the whole
orce left but the bookkeeper and him.
L little later the bookkeeper left, and
lharley ran the whole thing himself,
ill Lippman ordered him, by letter, to
lose the store. Then, instead of comDg
homo, as his people kept begging
dm to do, he replied no. He felt it
raa his duty to stay, and he went to
rork in Clay's drug store, putting up
prescriptions, hundreds per day, no
ime to rest, no time for dinner. Clay
ook the fever and Charley nursed him,
>ut he died. Charley still ran the store,
lis cook took the fever; ho nursed her,
nd she reoovered. Then a young friend,
lymons; he nursed him and got him up,
unning the store all the time, day and
light. He wrote his mother : " I have
o get something to eat the best way I
an. My cook is down. I have no
ime for myself, putting up prescriptions
11 day. When' night comes I am so
iicd I can hardly put one foot before
he other. I have not had my clothes
ff in a week, and I have not brushed
ay .Hair in four days." This although
rdinarily he was extremely neat and
artful of his person. It sounds like old
rmy times. At last, when Symons was
p, Charley took sick. He wrote that
e had taken the fever, but was feeling
iretty strong and was oonfident of soon
leinc 11 r) knd ftt wnrt nornin Taln/??imo
bon began to pass ten or twenty times
day. "Charley improving, with good
are he will come through all right,"
nd everything looked hopeful, when all
t once Charley is worse," and he bean
to sink, Symons nursing him in his
am and keeping up constant correpondenoe
with Augusta by telegraph,
'inally telegrams ooald be passed with
ifficulty, the telegraph boys refusing to
arry the messages in Savannah. It was
lie worst quarter in the whole city. The
ist two teleg.-ams received from 8yions
were : 111 will stick to him to the
ist." "I shall not sleep to-night."
.nd the brave young fellow kept his
-ord; they both died the same night,
ymops had never fully recovered and
ore himself out waiting on his friend.
Iharley was a brave soul. I could not '(
elp mourning his death; she ought not
> regret that he stayed; and my-esteem
>r him is so great that my little boy,
ow four years old, whose name before
as only Arthur, is now Charles Arthur;
ad didn't I do right? Hie is a name
lat ought never to die, and it will live :
>revor somewhere.
(low to Find a Person's Name. 1
Let the person whose A B D H Q !
aino you wish to know CCE I B i
>11 you in which of the E F F J 8
pright columns the first QGO E8
itter of his name is found. I J L LT '
f it be found in but one KKUMU
:>lumn, it is the top let- M N N N V
>r ; if it occurs in moro O O O O W 1
lanono column it isfound Q R T X X
y adding the alpliabeti- H B V Z Y 1
.InnrnkannOUt l~t TT TT TT *T rw .
- MMUAWto XJM. luu Irup XCJ'y- \J V V I /J *
irs of these columns and WWW <
le sum will be the number Y Z <
f the letter sought. Bj taking one I
itter at a time, in this way tho whole <
umber can be ascertained. For exmple,
take the word Jane. J is found <
i the two columns oommencing with B t
ad H, which are the eeoond and eight j
liters down the alphabet; their sum is <
in, and the tenth letter down the alpha- 1
et is J, the letter sought. The next j
itter. A, appears in but one column,
here it stands at the top. N is seen in (
ie columns headed B, D and H ; these ,
re the seoond, fourth and eight letters j
f the alphabet, which added gives the
mrteeuth or N, and so on. The ubo of ]
lis table will excite no little ouriosity ,
tnong those unacquainted with the
iregoing explanation.
The Telegraph's Usefulness.
A visitor to tho Centennial relates a (i
anny incident of the usefulness of the 1
alegraph, which came under her per- <
anal notice. At the same boarding <
ouse with the relator was a lady from 1
>hio, who, after her arrival, left the i
ouae to \rtew the groat show. This i
one, she started to return home, and i
do usual fsot foroed itself upon her? 1
be had forgotten to note either the <
umber or street of her new home, and <
'hat made matters worse memory could
ot recall either. A happy thought
tiuok her; stepping into a telegraph
ffioo she informs her husband in Ohio i
f her dilemma, and in a few moments
eoeived the much ooveted intalligenoe.
Brother Tom.
"Brother Tom is dead 1"
Not my brother Tom, but the brother
Tom of a ragged boy 'who sat on the
curbstone on the corner the other day,
and seemed looking into the dim past,
while big tears trickled down his
cheeks.
His father was dead, his mother poor,
and ho had known hunger and want
over since he could remember. Yet he
sobbed out:
"How can we spare Tom?what will
I do?"
Hunger makes no difference with the
heart?death is the same in the cabin or
in the palace.
When I sat down beside him he looked
u;> through his tears and sobbed :
"I never called him names, nor
fought him, nor stole his things, nor
took more'n half the bed."
My brother Tom died years ago. He
was older than I, and he made my bows
and arrows, my bird traps, my ball bats,
and he learned me to swim and to skate,
and he was more than a father to me.
Bat I couldn't say what the ragged boy
on the curbstone said. I fought my
brother Ton, and I grieved his big
heait, and I put burdens on his young
shoulders when I might have filled his
soul with eunsliine.
All those things came np when I
found his crushed and lifeless body
under a tree, and again when I stood by
the coffiu and looked upon his white
face. I would havo given worlds to
have asked his forgiveness for every
harsh word ever spoken, but it was too
late. Only one hour before his death I
hail made bis heart ache, and my words
might havo been in the poor boy's mind
when he lost his hold of the chestnut
tree.
" Yes, I was alius good to him 1" repeated
the ragged mourner beside me,
and his words opened my old sorrow
an d twinged my heart worse than I can
tell. I went home to open on old cupboard
and look at a pair of skates, and
an old knife, and a crossgun, and other
relics which I treasure up in memory of
my big brother. When I look them
ovt-r I ask his forgiveness, though I
know that the dead cannot hear. Oould
I recall those days?could I live my
young years over again, having brother
Tom with me?but the past is past. I
am sorry I found the grieving lad on
the curbstone?sorry, and yet glad, for
all my heartaches cannot bring brother
Tom back, and, I must go oftoLer to tho
cupboard.
Thoughts for Saturday Night.
The deeper the sorrow the less tongue
hath it.
As if you could kill time without injuring
eternity.
It is a miserable state of mind to have
few to desire and many things to fear.
He shall be immortal who liveth till
he be stoned by one without fault.
Modesty is to merit as "shades to figures
in a picture, giving it strength and
beauty.
As words can never be recalled, speak
only such words as yon never wish to recall.
Signs are small measurable things, but
interpretations are illimitable.
Learning without thought is labor
lout; thought without learning is perilous.
All gaming, einoe it implies a desire to
profit at another'% expense, involves a
breach of the tenth commandment.
Distrust is the death of the soul, belief
is its life. The just shall live by
faith. Infidelity is the abandonment of
life, a suicide of the spirit.
Energy will do anything that can be
done in this world; and no talents, no
oircumstances, no opportunities, will
make a two-legged animal a man without
it.
Limit your wants; the must is hard,
tad yet solely by this must can wo show
how it is with us in our inner man. To
livo according to caprioe requires no pesaliar
powers.
Children must have love inside the
tiouse and fresh air and good play, and
jome good companionship outside?
otherwise young life runs the greatest
danger in the world of withering, or
growing stunted, or, at best, prematurely
aid and turned inward on itself.
The habit of exaggeration, like dram
drinking, becomes a slavish necessity,
ind thev who cractioe it doss their lives
in a kind of mental teloeoope, through
tvhoee magnifying medium they jlook
iipon themselves and everything around
them.
A childhood passed with a due mixture
}f rational indulgence, under fond and
(rise parents, diffuses over the whole of
life a feeling of calm pleasure and, in
Ktremo old age, is the very last rememance
whioh time can erase from the
mind of riaan.
js~_
A California Story.
Joaquin Miller tells a. curious California
story, which recalls that of the oat
tie in Carte's "Gabriel Conroy." He
ueHcnneH an immigrant train panning
over the prairie and meeting a herd of
buffalo at fall speed and moved by one
of the apparently insane impulses which
poraetimes seize these animals. In on
instant the immeme herd bad passed?
fh< re was no wagon, there were no men,
oxen, hon es left; even their bodies were
obliterated. The one survivor was a
woman, who was carried out of tho horrible
struggle on the baok of ono of the
herd?how she never knew; her first conroionsness
was that sho stood in safety
upon a little hilloek and tho whirlwind
bad gono by.