The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, May 31, 1883, Image 2
Woman's Toice.
Not in the swaying of the summer trees,
When evening breezes sing their vesper
hymn?
Not the minstrel's mislitv svmnhonies.
Nor ripples breaking on the river's brim,
Is earth's best music; these may have awhile
High thoughts in happy hearts and irking cares
beguile.
But even as the swallow's silken wings,
Skimming the water ol the sweeping lake,
Stir the still silver with a hundred ring9?
So doth one sound tho sleeping spirit wake
To brave the danger and to bear tho harm?
A low and gentle voice?dear woman's chielest
charm.
An excellent thing it is! and ever lent
To truth and love, and meekness; they who
own
This gift, by the all gracious Giver sent.
Ever by quiet step and smile are known;
By kind eyes that have wept, hearts that have
sorrow'd.
An excellent thing it is?when first in gladness?
A mother look9 into her infant's eyes?
Qmilno tr? ito omil/iQ nnri QnrltlonQ to itQ Gnri.
ness?
Pales at its paleness, sorrows at its cries;
Its food and sleep, and smiles and little jojs?
All these come over blent with one'low, gentle
voice.
An excellent thing it is when life is leaving?
Leaving with gloom and sadness, joys and
cares?
The strong heart falling, and the high soul
grieving
With strongest thoughts and wild, unwonted
fears;
Then, then a woman's low, soft sympathy
Comes like an angel's voice to teach us how to
die.
But a most excellent thing it is in youth,
When the fond lover hears the loved one's
tone
That fears, but longs, to syllable the truth?
How their two hearts arc one, and she his
own;
it makes sweet human music?oh! the spells
That haunt the trembling tale a brigbt-eyed
maiden tells. ?Edwin Arnold.
"A Desperate Character."
AN* ADVENTURE IN LONDON.
I wont to Covent Garden theater
one night last season. We were let
out at 12, and set off to my lodgingsI
knocked; there was no answer. I
knocked again; a window -u^s thrown
and niy landlady's head appeared.
"Who are you ?" she screamed.
"Let's in, please; it's me!" I answered.
"Then, Mr. Me. if you don't come
home before 10 you may still out till
mornin'. I never wait up for my
lodgers?my door is closed at 10!" and
then the window closed with a bang.
"Xo go!" thinks I. "I have no
money, I'll go to a railway-station and
wait in the waiting-room till morning;"
which resolution I proceeded to carry
out by walking briskly for the bank.
I turned into Moorgate street, and
was just thinking whether I should go
to London, Brighton and South Coast
or -tbo- t^i'.d'm?Bridge station., i
stopped to think. There was a confectioner's
shop just in front of me.
Oh! that it were open! I had threenonffl
Ipft
Just at this moment a tall, broadshouldered
man came up to me and
viewed me from top to toe. I looked
at him. He was dressed in dark
clothes; a pea jacket and clap-trap
cloth hat, with a peak lying level on
the forehead, gave me a feeling of
awe. The thought forced itself upon
me that he was a garotter. He spoke
first.
"You're Mr. Sam?" and he laid his
finger on his nose.
"i oirve guessed it, saw 1, lammag
it best to agree with him, although my
name was Tom.
"Then come along!" and away we
went.
"Did Butler give ye e'er a pistol ?''
he asked.
"Xo," said I, beginning to tremble.
"He said h^ wanted them himself."
"Just like him. He told I'd find
you standing at Moorgate street, between
12 and 1, opposite the confectioner's,
with your right hand in your
pocket."
"I'm in for it," thinks I, "but I must
go through with it. But whatever
will it come to at all, at all V"
He led me through a labyrinth'of
streets, walking rather fast, till we
emerged upon the city road. Then
he made straight for the Angel, and
from thence took a cab for Fleet street.
What object he had in doing this I
cannot say. He did not offer to explain;
in fact, not a word passed between
us till we got out at the top of
Ludgate hill.
From thence we went into a back
street, and out of that into another,
no matter which, and suddenly stopping
opposite a shop, he exclaimed:
"That's our crib!"
"Is it?" says I.
Whereupon he produced from his
pocket a rule. The shop was evidently
a tailor's, as it had bars standing
out like the rungs of a Jacob's-ladder,
from each side of the door, to exhibit
stock upon. My friend stepped on the
first of these, which was three feet
from the ground, and speedily measured
the hight of a large glass fanlight over
the door; then, stepping down again,
he measured the breadth of the door,
and as the fanlight was square he muttered
to me by way of giving me its
dimensions:
"Three and a half by two high!" and
Then he crossed the road, and I followed,
he explaining that we must
wait till the policeman p:issed. He
hdve in sight about ten minutes afterwards,
while we walked past him.
Then we waited till he returned. This
time we did not pass him, but watched
from a corner at a distance.
"Twenty minutes and a half between
going and coming," exclaimed my companion.
"And a handy beat; for he
conies up the corner there"?pointing
to one a little beyond the shop?"and
goes down this street next ours."
The impression began to ste;d over
me that I was committing, or helping
to commit, a felony, and that if caught
I might get into trouble. I thought
of running for it; but the remark my
companion made at that moment, to
the effect that it would be a short run
if I deserted him (for be seemed to
see I didn't like the job), deterred me.
1 dared not explain that he had made
a mistake, for I felt sure that he must
have mistaken me for some ally of
his own. "I must go through with it,"
thinks I. "He'll leave me outside to
watch, and I'll hook it then?" Sol
went on.
He crossed the street again the moment
the policeman was past interfering
with us, and producing a piece
of stout black cloth he applied the
rule thereto, I holding it against the
shutters, while he set out "three and a
half by two" thereon. T^iis done, he
cut it within two inches of the measurement
all round, and then producing
a treacle-pot from his pocket, he
smothered one side of the cloth with
treacle, and, desiring me to hold it, he
mounted the shojMloor, so to speak
again; and I gave him the cloth, which
he immediately clapped on to the shylight,
the treacle making it adhere
firmly to the glass. Then, looking at
his watch, he cried:
"By jingo! he'll be here this minute!"
and away we walked. A glance beI
hind us, as we turned the next corner.
Xot yet in sight! We stopped and
I waited, but the policeman came not.
My friend muttered an oath, adding^
"I'll go. Come silong; but keep your
weather-eye open!" And off we went.
"Perhaps he is watching us," I suggested.
But the idea was discarded
as not in the nature of a policeman
"like that one we saw."
We arrived at the shop. He mounted
again, and drove a string through a
hole in the cloth. Then he ran a diamond
round the edge of the glass. A j
gentle pat, and it gave way. Now I I
saw the use of the cloth and string. I
He could hold the glass by the string;
j and he slowly let it down into the shop,
J and, producing a long-shaped pad, he
! laid it along the bottom of the fanlight
I to cover the glass edge, and threw one I
leg into the opening and got astride of j
lit!
I "Follow me," lie muttered, and \
ducked his head under the door-head, j
J But before he could draw in the other
leg I mounted the ladder, and, seizing J
it, gave him a pull that kept him from !
going in, at the sumo time yelling, i
"Police! Thieves! Murder! Police!" at {
the top of my voice. And, lo and be j
hold! the policeman appeared at tne
corner at that moment. A horrible
oath from within, a pistol-bullet
whistling past my head, and I ran for i
death and life. I did not stop till I 1
found myself in Broad street.
In the next day's papers I saw the ;
account of the capture of a burglar by I
one policeman, who had watched two i
burglars from the corner, and saw one i
enter the house, and the other leap up ;
the wall like a cat, grab at a disappearing
leg, and yell "Police!" and run.
The one that was caught got seven
years' penal servitude, and "the police J
are searching vigilantly, though a> yet j
unsuccessfully, for the other, who, it
appears, is a desperate character!"
They never caught him.?Cassell.
The Prince of Wales' Children.
A London letter to the Chicago i
Tribune says: The two eldest children j
of the Prince of Wales are now at |
Lausanne with a tutor. They are i
there chiefly for French. After thei |
French is perfected they will spend |
certain holidays in Germany for con- j
versational German. All highly-ed- j
5r* l?n nrlorwl CTlOilL' i
[ llUiXICU pcvpv ALL %??vwv |
two continental languages. All the i
royal children are exceptionally accomplished
in language. The eldest son is
the duller and soberer of the two. His
beautiful character is that of his mother,
and great hopes are entertained of him.
His life is singularly pure and thought
ful. and he is said to be a great joy to j
his parents. The second young prince
has his father's blood in his veins, and |
j sometimes breaks loose in a frolic like '
a horse colt. The oldest daughter, !
I Princess Louise Victoria of "Wales, has i
just passed her sixteenth birthday,
which has been* celebrated with unusual
honor and festiv it j. The Princess
of "Wales, it is stated, means to
make this a very brilliant season for
herself. Her eldest daughter will be
brought out next year, and the lovely
I and gracious princess will have to
stand up by the side of a grown up
I J -t- 4. nn mAfbor Alll'fu
UUUgUlCI, iUUl pcnidlin n" niuwiv*
likes the suggestion of rivalry which
this fact raises and never lays to rest.
Good breeding and good education are
the tradition of the royal family. The
prince consort was a gentleman, and a
very scholarly and intelligent gentleman,
and his children when very
young began to study with definite
aims and by the most exact method
'"and under the wisest of guidance. Xo
family in Europe has more rigid hours
of duty, from eldest to youngest, than
j the royal family of England. The
! purity of the English court is worthy
of all praise in itself, and especially ?is
giving a clear and crystal tone to English
social life.
HOME LIFE IN PARIS.
Pecullarltlea of the Pnrlalana. ? How
People Live in the French Capital.
This picture of home life in Paris is
given by a writer in the Decorator and
Finisher: Wherever one sees a yellow
bill upon the door of a Parisian house
lie may be tolerably certain of discover*
iWjp?iiki m neat- npoataMMlpMUihi
furnished, having at least a bed-room,
a parlor, a dining-room, a kitchen, and
usually an ante-room into which the
entrance door opens. The windows,
extending to the floor, are hung with
lace and stuff curtains; the doors have
portieres upon either side, rugs, as a
rule, take the place of carpets, the bed
is under the protection of a canopy,
even if it be no more than muslin, and
a heavy wardrobe, with a full length
mirror in the door, is often the point
de resistance in the room. A showy
silk down quilt is thrown over the bed,
and a bolster of huge proportions rests
at the head. The top of the mattress
averages three or four feet from the
floor, and suggests the advantage of
step ladders and the utter discomfort
of little people. The peculiarity, however,
of the French bed is its restful
quality, for it is so whether it be found
in the Palace of the Elysee or a thirdrate
apartment house on Montmatre,
in the Hotel de L'Athence, or the most
provincial of pensions.
The elasticity of prices in the renting
of apartments is wonderful. A
Frenchman pays $30 a month for a
nicely furnished flat in the Palais
Royal, or, we will say, in the neighborhood
of Trinity church, taking the two
extremes of localities, and an American
tourist gladly pays $50 for the
same accommodations. If the lessee
is fortunate and rents from a family
that may be going to Vichy for a few
months, he possibly can arrange for
silverware, linen, and crockery, but if
this is denied him, he will find a most
agreeable company organized for the
very purpose of supplying the transient
resident with all the necessary appurtenances
of housekeeping, at a price
that allows one to display a magnificence
approaching royalty at the most
economical outlay. A bonne may be
had at $7 per month, one of those
smart French girls thjit does everything
from cooking the meals to dressing
her mistress, and who insists upon
doing it. Seven dollars, be it understood.
is not starvation pay, it is muni
licence, and one may expect from such
a girl all the esthetic cooking of the
French repertoire?peas, not ;is we
have them in this country, yellow and
hard, but deliciously sweetened, tender
.as cream. The bonne does all the
marketing, wrangles with the trades
people, and hands in her account every
day or week. Of course sKe has a
percentage from the stores, but who
would begrudge that to get rid of the
intolerable nuisance of shopping?
A stroll on the boulevards, a visit to
the Jardin d'Acclimation, a ride to the
Bois de Boulogne, by the way of the
Champs Elysee, all these are pleasures,
and combine with the attractive fur
nisinngs 01 tne nouse 10 maae one
forget the annoyances he is subjected
to and the crude and primitive domestic
surroundings he is called upon to
endure. He is induced to forget that
on his way home he may be run over
by a vicious cab driver and then arrested
for being in the way of the horses,
for, of course, in Parisian streets
vehicles have the right of way.
The concierge is an important factor
in French life. If one fails to "come
down" with the proper amount of
subsidy in the shape of "pour 'boire"
the concierge, whose place is at the entrance
to his building, takes very good
care that his close-fisted tenant does
wnrtAin-o Kio moil onrf oinhr until nnn
(lay after its delivery at the door, and
his visitors are informed that he is "not
at home," when in truth he is awaiting
their coming in his rooms. Should
the tenant protest to the landlord, his
life will thereafter be miserable, a succession
of ills and terrors that will
finally drive him from the house, to
look for other apartments. But he is
known to every concierge in the city>
and, despite the flaming yellow poster
that announces from the outer wall
there is an apartment to let, he meets
everywhere the one reply, "There is
nothing here sir," and if, perforce, he
does get into the building the price is
placed at such a figure as to put it
beyond the reach of the tired and
discouraged searcher. After one experience
of this sort the traveler
either succumbs to the inevitable and
pays up like a man, or else, with what
courage he has left, he goes off to
Switzerland and freezes on Mount
Blanc, or to Rome and gets the fever.
Of course, where there are few
carpets the floors must be kept in good
/^rvnflitirm un 5j innn r-mnpc pvprv wpplr
and waxes the boards, and skates
about on them with stiff brushes tied
to his feet.
Still Even.
On Montcalm street recently a boy
was leading a goat around by a rope,
when a pedestrian asked if he wanted j
ti\ enll tho nnimul
"Course not, we just got hiin," wa; (
the reply.
"What clicl you want of poat?!.'r]n^j
^ "Nothing much. We bought hi?
to get ahead of the .Browns, who have
a fox, but they've gone and got even
again."
"How ?"
"Why, three of the family have been
mesmerized, and .Johnny has had two
teeth tilled."?Detriot Fret Press.
n :
GREAT DISASTERS.
Record of Frightful Coiivnl*Ion? of A?a>
Hire Jinai lian> ?cturmiii ?Oiii/
Thousnnil 1'rrioni I'trlililng In Six
Minutes.
While considering the various disasters
that have visited portions of the
civilized world during the present year,
^ while
which are predicted", it will he interest- 1
ing, if not exactly reassuring to re- 1
view the frightful convulsions and '
eruptions that have now and then oc- 1
curred, engulfing in ruin all who came '
in their way. Without speaking of <
the cyclones which swept with destruc- 1
live violence over sections of this '
country last year, or the other disasters 1
of recent date, on land and sea, earth- <
quakes and various convulsions of na- ture
that have taken place in the past,
and may be repeated when least ex*
pected.
In I7S3 Iceland was visited by convulsions
which destroyed nearly onefifth
of the population. Twenty villages
were consumed by fire or inundated
by water, and one eruption on
the mainland threw up "a mass of ;
lava greater than the bulk of Mount
Blanc." A new island was thrown up
in the sea, but^flfthin a year it sunk, 1
leaving a reef or rocks thirty fathoms ;
under water. In 182*2 an earthquake
occurred on tho*Island of Java, The \
earth shook, and "immense columns of I
hot water and boiling mud, mixed
,i? * t-! L -.1 .1
wnn uurmng wiiiistune, asiies aiiu
lapilla, of thel&e of nuts, were pro- ;
jected from the mountain like a water
spout with such prodigious violence
that large quantities fell beyond the
river Tandio, AVhich is forty miles distant."
The eruption lasted four hours,
destroying 114 'villages, killing over
4000 human lyings, converting "a
mountain ridge into an enormous gulf,"
and changing the face of the country
for miles around. On September 1,
1730, the earth split in Lancerota, one
of the Canary islands. In a few days
"a considerable 'nill of ejected matter
was thrown up, a vent opened sending
forth a stroarrkof lava that overran
several villagej^Snd tlowed into the
sea." These Jerrible commotions
lasted five yea refilling the air with
putrid vapors hi the inidst of which
hundreds of human beings and animals
dropped dead. . In 1819 the fort and
village of Sindree, on the eastern arm
of the Indus, sunk and a tract of country
2000 square miles in extent was
submerged. In 1815 an eruption took
place in the province of Tomboro, and
only twenty-six "persons survived out
of a population of 12,000. An account
of the fearful visitation says that "violent
whirlwinds carried up men, horses,
and cattle into the air, tore up the
largest trees by the.roots, and covered
the wholp aea^Bfa-llflalirg timber.
Another accoiu^fcays ' "the floating !
cinders to the *stward of Sumatra
formed, on the lph of April, a mass
two feet thick and several miles in extent,
through which the ships with ,
difficulty forced \ their way." The
town of Tomboro, on the west side of
Sumbawa, was overflowed by the sea
so that the water remained permanently
eighteen feet in places where it was
dry land before. The area covered by
this rnrivnlsinn was 1000 milps in cir
cumference. On the 1st of ^November,
1775, at Lisbon, a sound of thunder
was heard, and in six minutes 60,000
persons perished* "A great concourse
of people collected for safety upon a
new quay, built? entirely of marble,
but it sunk witty all upon it, and not
one body ever appeared upon the surface.
A number of small boats went
down, and no fragments of their
wrecks ever were discovered. Humboldt
says that "a portion of the earth's
surface four times as great as the size
of Europe was shaken by this earth-1
quake."
We refer to but a few of these terrific
manifestations of the uncontrollable
forces of nature, without going back
to the eruptions by which whole cities
were buried for centuries from human
view, and without discussing the
theory advanced by some thinkers that
a vast continent,1 peopled by a highlycivilized
and populous race, was once
swallowed up in the region where now
rolls the Atlantic ocean. Innumerable
incidents might be quoted from history
to prove how uncertain is the thread
by which all the affairs of this world
hang. There are no reasons to fear
any such cataclysms as have at various
times visited mankind, or to doubt
that the earth will continue for centuries
to come to teem with its manifold
blessings. Yet it is not impossible
that at some day {ill we see
"May be melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision.
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the groat globe itself, I
Tea, all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And like an unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind."
The apostle John did not believe in
divorces for religion's sake. When he
baptized Chrysippa, the wife of the
governor 01 raimos says rrocnorusj,
she would have forsaken her unbelieving
husband at once; but the aged
apostle told her it must not be. He
had a commission, he said, to join her
to Qirist, n<>no to separate her
from her husbanfl, and he commanded
her to return to .|er house again.
J
I3e as a little child. Children have
no cares; all is managed for them, and
they rest safe ;ind happy in their father's
care.
i
f
A Foot-VFasliing Ceremony.
"You never saw a foot-wasbing?" ]
said the Rev. Joseph Bo wen, a Baptist
minister from Tennessee, to-a St. Louis
reporter. "Then you could not have
traveled much in the backwoods sec. '
tions of the South and "West. I remem- 1
oer seeing one ai itnnuoipn, ?enn., m
:Time. 1877. Randolph is in Tippon '
county on the Mississippi bluffs. I had '
to stay there over Sunday, and learning 1
that there was a meeting at Salem 1
church, six miles away, I borrowed a
horse and rode to the place. The :
church, built of logs, witli the 'cracks'
daubed, sat back about 100 yards from
the road in the middle of a grove. InBide,
the seats were all pretty well filled,
and every head in the church turned
as I entered. I shrank into a corner
and took a seat as quickly as possibleIn
front there were a few benches
made of unvarnished poplar, but the
sunnlv falling short the demand had
been met by planks laid on boxes. On
one of these I sat down next to a portly
lady dressed in a cotton gown with
broad yellow checks. The minister
had well earned his reputation of
being a 'powerful exhorter,' as I found
when he commenced his sermon. As
he warmed to his work he walked
rapidly from side to side of the pulpit,
stopping occasionally, as in a thundering
voice .he warned his unconverted
hearers that they were 'hanging over
hell-fire by a single hair,' to deal resounding
blows to the Bible with his
fists by way of emphasis. When he
concluded he took a long crash towel
and girded it around nis waist.
the side of the pulpit was a bucket of
water and a 'noggin.' If you don't
happen to know what a noggin is I
may explain that it is a small tub a
size larger than a piggin. This one
had been constructed by sawing a
whisky keg in half. When the preacher
commenced pouring the water into
it an old gentleman in the amen corner
commenced pulling off his brogans
and rolling up the bottoms of his
trousers.
'"Will some brother raise a hymn?'
asked the minister, and the brother,
who now had his shoes off and was engaged
with his home-knit cotton socks.
raised one: "I am aSoldier of the Cross,"
and as the congregation joined he put
both feet in the noggin, which had
been set before him. The preacher
squatted down in "front of him, nibbed
his hands around over the feet and up
and down his shins half way to the
knee. When the brother thought
they were washed enough, he held
them up out of the water, and the parson
wiped them on the crash towel.
Then the parson sat down, and, having
pulled off his shoes, had his feet wash,
ed by the brother to whom he had
justjninisjgjed. All who wished to
juuiintiie ceremony had lakWfpcfesession
of the front seats?the mourners'
bpnnhfx! Amonf? those who had cone
? o u
up had been the portly sister by whom
I sat. The noggin came to her next
and she washed the feet of the sister
next to her, having her own washed
in turn. When all the feet on the
front seat had been bathed, the water
in the noggin was emptied out the
back door and a fresh supply brought
in from the well near the church.
The noggin passed around from brother
to brother and from sister to sister for
an hour, and in that time 1 saw more
varieties of feet than I have ever seen
before or since."
Salt in the Sea.
In its deepest parts the sea is intensely
blue, but where it is shallow it is a
bright green color, which prevails until
soundings cease to be struck! Some
people ascribe the blue to the reflection
of the sky, and say that if the green
water which is found nearer land were
piled up in a basin as deep as that
which holds the blue, it would be the
same color. But the true cause of the
difference between the two is the quantity
of salt which the water contains.
Some parts of the sea are much Salter
than others, and it is these which are
the bluest.
That the seawater is denser in one
part than another is the result of evaporation,
less rainfall and a smaller importation
of fresh water by means of
rivers, etc. It is estimated that eight
feet of water are annually withdrawn
from the Red sea by evaporation only,
and it is not surprising that it is Salter
than the Baltic, where the evaporation
is very small, and where, unlike it,
there is an influx of water from various
streams and heavy annual rainfiills.
But why is the ocean salt at all V
The streams which feed it bring with
them the salts of the soil through which
they pass. As evaporation is ever going
on, one would think that sea water
must ever grow more lime-like; but such
is not the case. The heavy heated
waters of the tropics carry saline mat
ter to be absorbed by the fresher waters,
which in their turn rush forth to
seek a home in more hospitable regions;
and hence it is that the seas from
which there is no evaporation, and
which receive abundant supplies from
rivers, etc., keep up their character
and do not become saltless lakes.
So the sea is salt by reason of the
earth, washings which are poured into
it; it has different densities because of
evaporation, ramiaiis ana rivers, as 11
is prevented from stagnation by a
universal system of ocean currents.
A contented spirit is the sweetness
of existence.
COAL MINERS.
How They Provide for the tVklaWi and
Orphan*.?.Hurrying Ont of Generosity.
A correspondent writing from
Wilkesbarre, Pa., says: Accidents in
the collieries of the middle district of
the anthracite coal fields, of which this
city is the center, made last year nearly
oneAiundred widows and over five
hurlm-ed orphans. But notwithstanding
the frequency of fatal accidents
and the absence of any organized charity,
the larders of the widowed families
are never empty, rione go naked, the
household fires are not extinguished
and the little home is never stripped
by a landlord's warrant. Kind hands
see that food is provided each day, and
the men returning from their work in 1
the mines do not forget to carry to the
widow's home a lump of anthracite for
U1U I1CA U UilJ UOC. VU1 Uiin.iwu.u ~
peculiar sense prevails among the coal
miners of Pennsylvania. The lucky
divide with the unlucky as readily and
as cheerfully as if they belonged to one
family. However much all may
quarrel on abstract questions of polr
tics or religion, all discussions are
dropped at the appeal of charity.
While, as has been said, no organized
relief societies exist among the
colliers, there is a general system in
vogue which does its work well and
promptly. Every printing office in
this region is visited weekly by persons
wanting raffle tickets. These tickets
cost one dollar a hundred, and are
headed "Haffle for a cooking stove," or
clock, bureau, quilt, table, or some
other article of domestic use. It is announced
that the raffle is for the benefit
of a widow or injured miner, and
on the "night after pay day." The
price of the ticket is generally fifty
cents. The raffle is In charge of a
committee whose names appear on the
ticket. Take the case of a woman,
for instance, lately made a widow.
She has been left penniless, as miners'
widows usually are. Everybody understands
this, and the hundred tickets
are promptly disposed of among the
miners, who pay for them on pay day.
On that night the widow gets $50 cash.
The night of the raffle comes, and, possibly,
one-fifth of the ticket holders
assemble. A fiddler, a keg of beer,
and a little "hard shtuff" form the ele.
ments of the entertainment. The
young lads join in a dance with the
lasses, the old men sup and smoke
their nines, and the old women recount
the virtues of the deceased miner.
About midnight the raffle begins.
The names of the ticket purchasers
are put into a hat and well shaken.
Whoever secures the prize at once
turns it over to the beneficiary. The
company breaks up happy over the
good time they have had, and the kind
deed they have done. That $50 goes a
the little housA It will sometimes
pay a whole year's rent, and it only requires
one or two more raffles to keep
the victor's poor larder stocked, for it
* * "? - * AL-l i- ~ i- 1.
must oe understood tnut pouuues, caobages,
and meal, form the staple articles
of diet in these humble homes.
A year is a long time for a comely
and thrifty woman to remain a widow
at the mines, no matter how many
children she may have. Jim is killed
to-day, and possibly before the summer
ends, Jack, who was Jim's best friend>
insists upon marrying Jim's widow
Jim's babies become his. And if you
go below the surface you will find the
foundation of Jack's action to be pure
charity. It is a matter of record that
when the terrible Avondale disaster
occurred so many widows and helpless
ones were left that the matter of caring
for the former speedily was discussed.
It was quickly settled by propositions
of marriage, and within a very short
time after the calamity the household
of every victim was protected. This
same spirit exists in every mining
community to-day, and is a shield
against much distress.
1 I -
1MJ.U1U3 IittYC uccn iiiauo xiuiii iiiuc uv
time to induce the miners to abandon
a custom that prevails among them.
Whenever a man is killed in a mine
while at work, every man in the colliery
where the accident occurs stops
work. Frequently 1500 employes turn
out and remain out for two days.
There appears to be a deep superstition
that prompts that peculiar exhibition
of respect for the dead.
Longevity of Wild Anirjials.
Two hippopotamuses have recently
died in the London Zoological garden.
One was twenty-seven years in confinement,
the other thirty, but of
course their actual age can never be
known. Indeed, it is difficult to tell
whether the wild animal lives as long
as the domestic one. At one time the
test was the length of time required
to reach maturity, which, it was
assumed, bore a certain proportion to
the life of the creature. But this
does not hold good with even the
larger mammalia: for a horse, assum
ing it to lie mature at four years, will
live to five or six "maturities," while
man, presuming him to be mature at
twenty, rarely reaches four. Dogs
enjoy a greater proportional longevity
than mankind, and a cat's life is pro
verbially tenacious ^ fjlnnot be
eV(m wild animals have
their lives shortened by confinement.
Indeed, it is reasonable to suppose that'
the care given to animals in menageries
prolongs their existence. The
civilized man certainly lives longer
than the savage, who is exposed to the
hardships and vicissitudes of a rough
out-door existence.
0
My Ship.
0! though my ship is sailing far .oat 00 the
wide, wide sea, i
The prospect ever dearest still is my own
home to me;
And all the time, by night, by day, before me
fa Mia /loor
Come smiling, greeting, cheering, as in fancy
they appear.
0! though my ship is sailing far in distant waters
blue,
My heart looks ever homeward to my home- _ tics,
ever true;
J mark each day's departing, for I know it is
one less,
Before I clasp my loving ones, or feel their
soft caress.
0! though my ship is sailing far, in storm and
tempest off,
Z still can feel the pressure of warm hands and
fiDgers soft;
I am looking, thinking, longing for the time to
come for me,
When I shall meot my children dear and take
them on my kuce.
O! though my ship is sailing fur, 'twill soon be
"homeward bound;"
On land or sea was never heard, by man, a
sweeter sound;
With sail all set and hounding o'er the rolling,
billowy sea,
Each hour is bringing nearer all my darling
once to me.
O! then swift winds, from out the skies come
blowing strong and freo;
Blow lor me homoward breezes, hasten home
myshipandmc;
All my loved ones there arc waiting, waiting^
looking o er the sea;
And in patience sweet are winching, 0! my
ship for thee and me.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
Medical query?Was the eye-lash
designed for brow-beating?
Flattery is called "tally" because it
makes a man feel awfully "stuck up."
I I j a morlrod rl iflForpnpp hptWfiftll
JL 11*31 Xj IO a ililii uv\* \A4*?.v?>uv? ..
getting up with the lark and staying
up to have one.
When the lien with chickens attacked
the small boy in his mother's
(yard, the hen informed him she had
been laying for him for some time.
A note made on Sunday is void;
which may account for men sleeping
all through church service, and making
no note of what the preacher says.
A'young child in Oregon^ietTfroin
the effects of swallowing-the leaves of
on almanac. We always held that
jdates should be eaten in small quantities.
When a certain bachelor was married
in Philadelphia, members of the
(Bachelor club broke him up by sending
Ihim as a wedding present a copy of
4 Paradise Lost."
It is a glorious thing to have been
iborn a man. One doesn't have to
bother himself for a month over the
plans and specifications of a new
spring bonnet. He simply has to foot
'the bill when the thing is bought.
A little bright-eyed boy, upon liearing
his father read the story, of Joan
T)f Arc, wais greatly moveil Trjfc
trials; but when the part was reached
where she was about to be burned to
death at the stake, the poor little fellow
could not contain himself any
longer, but sobbingly clutched his parent's
arm, and, with big tears running
down his plump little cheeks, cried,
"But,?papa, wh?e?re were the police
' _______________
Henry Clay Quoting Shakespeare.
TT l- ~ ..
Iieiiry Vjlitv, wnu iui.i> a avab iu uic
Senate for one in the House, but after
many years' service at the other end of
the capitol returned to the Senate
chamber, exercised a powerful controj
over the politics of the republic. Idolized
by the "Whig party, his wonderful
powers of personal magnetism, and
his rich, manly voice, would enable him *
to hold an audience for hours. He
made but little preparation, and used
but few notes in speaking; but when
he wrote out his remarks for the press,
his manuscript was remarkably neat,
without interlineations or blots. He
seldom indulged in classical allusions
and his occasional attempts to make
quotations of English poetry -were
generally failures. On one occasion,
he used the well-known phrase from
Hamlet, "Let the galled jade wince,
our withers are unwrung," duc misquoted
the last syllable, calling it "unstrung."
The gentlemen who sat on
either side of him noticed the error ^
and simultaneously whispered "unwrung."
This double prompting confused
"Young Harry of the West,''
who straightened himself, and with
stronger emphasis repeated "unhung."
This raised a general laugh, at the
close of which Clay, who had meanwhile
ascertained his mistake, shook
his head, and said with one of his in
imitable smiles: "Ah! murder will out!
Unwrung's the word." The fascination
which he exercised over all with
whom he had personal intercourse,
even his political adversaries, was remarkable;
but he was imperious and
domineering, exacting unconditional
and unqualified support as the price of
his friendship.?Ben Perley Poore in
the Century.
Life is of worth only as we men and
women witness for something. Protoplasm
is a high type of life compared
to the man who lives only for self.
Smaller than an atom is the man who
finds center and circumference in self.
. ,Less than a cipher in value is the soul
that stands alone, and finds no great
principle or truth as a unit alongside t
which to place itself. The coil of wire
stretched across a state becomes tho
highway of thought when it yields to
electricity; a man becomes the medium
of God's thought when insulated from
the world, and witnessing for Christ