Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

“1 give thee, without praise or fame,” Answer* <1 the spring to the troubled brink, “That which thon lackest, O vast sea! A drop of water that one could drink ’’ — Tranulated from llctor Hugo by MUs 8. C. Aikens. TOIi. III. NO. 160. I OL.D SER1EH. VOI.. VII. NO. 362.1 AIKEN, S. C., THUKSDAY, JANUAKY 17, 1878. $2.00 per Annum, in Advance. Heaven. HITIIEBTO O'PmLISIiED HEMANS. POEM BY FELICIA Have you heard, have you heard of that sun- bright clime, Unstained by sorrow, unhurt by time— Where age hath no power o’er the fadeless frame, Where the eye is fire and the heart is flame — Have you heard of that sun-bright clime Here are rivers of waters gushing there, 1st blossomed beauty strangely fair, I a thousand wings are hovering o’er •^jng wing and the golden shore TtJpund in that sun-bright olime. ».ds of forms arrayed in white— tclothod in light— own immortal bowers lue of the countless flowers in that sun-bright clime. sun-bright clime unhurt by time, fair, is given s'&h name is Heaveu, t clime. mpion. ’HE GREAT FLOOD. a guandmotiier’s story. How long ago was it ? do you ask, lit tle Ben? Sixty-cue years, if it was a day. It is June now ; I was seventy- nine the tenth of last April ; and that worst day of the great flood of Pennsyl vania was on one other tenth of April, exactly sixty-one years before. It was my eighteenth birthday, too. I remem ber that as well as anything else that happened. The country was new then. I mean that it was pretty much all woods, with very few settlements, and no many people in them. They were chiefly along the banks of this river, for almost every one was lumbering or rafting ; and that was what brought father here from Ver mont. Mother died far away up among the Green .Mouitfums; and it always M6t5XU6Cl tO liiti its llG COUIUai’ old homestead after that; so we moved here from Pennsylvania. Liook from the north window there, Ben ; I'd come and look with you, but my rheumatism is bad to-day. No matter. Do you see that long point of land, a mile up stream, that runs out into the river? Yes? Well—look a little closer at it. Farthest from the shore it spreads out into an acre of good high land; but the narrow neck that joins that to the shore is commonly almost as low as the bed of the stream. There are great high stepping-stones across it now, that father laid there when we first came ; and we used to walk dry- shod over them when the spring rains had raised the river. I remember but one solitary time when the water covered the stepping-stones as well as the neck of land ; and that was at the time of the great flood. Our little house was built on that high land, out in the middle of the river—a two-story frame affair, with two rooms down stairs and two rooms up ; and, after all, it took all the neighbors to raise the roof. It was an odd notion of father’s, putting it there ; he used to say that the day would come when he could sell off valuable water privileges all around his acre. That day hasn’t come yet, Ben ; but sometimes, when I think of poor, dear father, and all his plans and schemes for me, and of what has happened, I really think that some thing like Providence put it into his heart to fancy that queer little corner out there in the river, and to build our house there. I am going to tell you what I mean. After the little house was built and furnished, I stayed at home, and kept it, and father took to the woods with the loggers. He led a hard enough life from that time out till he died ; summer and winter he was at work with his men— sometimes at the loggers’ camp, then jauling the logs to the river, and rafting ^ ?m down to the bay, where he sold >them to the contractors. There were i weeks when he wouldn’t be at home a l«lay but Sunday ; but when he was raft- I often heard his shout on the river, id could see him waving his hat from ra fV"as it went slowly down the iwxtiwitli the current. I hope I was ^’.gghter in those days. I tried * -X:ikeep the house neat and tidy, ' ‘wl his clothes ; and regularly 'Ay cooked a great mess, which rr -h up hot to the loggers in a lail. was lonesome enough, for there were jiole days that I did not see a human jg to exchange a word with, but a in Ben Sample, who nearly always " 2£he dinner, Heigho ! It’s long tiling you of ; and hand- ' "^iple was then hardly e. ■‘ifaj/was not over tall, nor ; he was of middling height, F*. ad shoulders and big hands, and /'• as any two of the men—so He had curly chestnut y and white cheeks like a sunburnt; and his teeth .. en k« laughed/and that was anybody would have liked >k ten he was so honest and and so kind and obliging, ^e I had seen him many times like him very well ; and one Opened to say to father that I £ .. y a wa8 ai1 excellent ^at I wished I could have Kis company. I never saw 'o stern all of a sudden, as and I never heard him pern, either. ^Ave him in his place, sy," he s/i l, very quick and sharp- “ He’s naught but a poor lum- 'berman, after all, and he’s likely to be naught else. Don’t be tender with him, riaughter, I bid you not. If you’ve felt any too kind to him, you must check it in time. Have little to say to him, daughter; it’s your father’s wish.” Ben did not come to our house after that, another man took his place, and things went on in the old lonely way all the rest of the winter, and through the next spring. It was the first week in March, of that year, that father brought young Mr. Cardie to the house. Young Mr. Cardie was the only son of old Jacob Cardie, the millionaire, who lived in Philadelphia, and who was contract ing with father for all his logs for years to come. The old man meant that Jacob should succeed him in business in a few months; and he thought it would be an excellent thing to send him up into the loggers’ country for a while, to get him acquainted with the different kinds of lumber, and the processes of cutting it and getting it to market. Father thought it would be a good thing for himself to entertain him at the house while he remained; and so, for the next five weeks, they were regularly at home morning and night, sleeping in the house, and spending the day in the woods or on the river. You’ll want to know what kind of a man young Cardie was. He was pale and slender, handsome enough for those that liked such beauty as that in men; and rather foppish with his diamond ring and his silky moustache. He was very polite, too; but I never thought there was much heart or good feeling in anything he said or did. Yet he seemed to like me from the first; and poor fath er whispered to me ten times, if he did once, “Play the cards shrewdly, Bessy, and thou’ll catch him ! He’ll make thee a lady, girl, and a rich one!” And stranger things have happened, I know, than my marrying would have been ; surely affairs were drifting to wards it; and I had almost succeeded in crushing the thought of Ben Sample out of my heart, and in playing the part that my father wished me to play to young Mr. Cardie (for I never could have persuaded myself to love him), when that fateful 10th of April came that brought my eighteenth birthday and the givut flood together. The river had been rising slowly for a week before it, and there!)tui been muon ram with us. We heard reports of tre mendous rains in the mountains two hundred miles north of up, which lasted \ for days and days ; and ilie river con tinued to rise steadily and slowly, though up to that day it was not over the step ping-stones across the neck. On the morning of the 10th the rain came down at first steadily, and Mr. Cardie thought he would not leave the house. Father went over to the camp after breakfast, saying that he would return, as usual, towards night; and so we spent the day alone together. It was about the middle of the after noon, when I was wondering what I should do next (and thinking a little of poor Ben Sample, I believe), that Mr. Cardie turned short around to me from the window and said, very abruptly, “ I’m going back to the city to-morrow, Bessy. I want to know if I can come back here in three mouths—that’ll be the middle of July—and make you my wife ?” 1 never thought of myself or of my own feelings ; I put all thoughts of Ben out of my head, remembered my father, and said “ Yes ”—nothing more. I dou’t know whether Mr. Cardie would have kissed me or not; he had no chance ; for hardly had I spoken that word when there was a knock at the door, and I opened it to admit—Ben Sample himself 1 Wo were all three of us rather ill at ease for a moment. Mr. Cardie knew Ben, I suppose, and must have heard something about his old feeling for me, for he stepped back toward the window and frowned, never speaking or nodding to Ben, who stood there with his hat twirling in his hands, awkward and abashed. He only found his tongue when I asked him to sit down, and then he said, “Nay, I can’t stop. I only came to bring your father’s message that he won’t be home to-night. The rise in the river has broken loose the great raft up at Logan’s Ford, that was to have been floated down to-morrow, and he’s gone up with all hands to moor it. He can’t be here to-night.” That was awkward news for me ; but just as I had a question on my tongue, Ben spoke again. “ You don’t know how fast the river is rising,” he said. “Out on the stones the water is almost up to the top of my boots, and seems to be rising higher. ” “ Ben, Ben, what shall I do ?” I took ' no thought at all of Mr. Cardie, and felt I no safety except from the presence of Ben. “ Didn’t father send any other word ?” “None at all ?” “ And won’t you stay ?” “ After what has happened, Bessy? 1 shouldn’t think you’d wish it. ” Then he must have seen how grieved and sorry I looked, and how alarmed I felt, for he added at once, ‘ ‘ Yes, I will stay, Bessy, if you wish it, though I trust and believe there’s no danger. ” I thanked him with a look; and before I could say anything more, Mr. Cardie spoke. “Where’s that fellow Cardie?” he asked. I had not noticed that he was gone; he had been standing by the window just before Ben went out the last time. thing should happen to either of us, that we shouldn’t meet again in this world, I must tell you now, Bessy, that nobody has loved you ns I have—that nobody loves ’you now as I do. Believe me, “I thought it,” Ben cried; and his dear, for it is true.” face looked half sorry, half mad. “Bessy, do you know what has happened ? The skiff is gone ! and that man with it. ” We looked a moment, and then came back into the room. I was afraid, I suppose, but not so much so as I thought at first. Somehow I felt a sense of security with Ben Sample there, that robbed the situation of all the terror it would have bad without him. I hardly thought of Jacob Cardie, and how mean and heartless he was to abandon us so, and deprive us of the means of safety, when Ben wanted to save us altogether. “ Ben will save me I” was all I could think of; and I suppose I repeated the words to myself a hundred times. Once I must have spoken them aloud, for he said, “ I will, Bessy, God willing! I will pray for the strength that I may.” He knelt there on the the floor and prayed; and I knelt beside him, and took one of his hands and pressed it in both of mine. “ There is nothing for us to do but to stay here and hope for the best,” he told me once. And then he added, “ While ! me from my peril, and I lay safely in the there’s a hope, and when there’s none, bottom of the boat, while his stout arms “I .know it, Ben—I know it!” I sobbed ; and I put my face to his. He bent over and kissed me, with such a look of mighty surprise and over whelming joy as I don’t believe any man ever had before ; and crying out, “ Hold hard, Bessy—struck out for the skiff. I did not tell him when he left me that my hands were cold, almost numb ; and I held tight to the rafter and watched him, while the pain in my poor hands and arms was distressing me sorely. I saw him reach the skiff, and balance himself, and labor carefully over its side to get in without overturning it ; and when he had accomplished this my strength was almost gone. My hands were giving, slipping ; I made one last spasmodic effort to retain my hold, and shouted wildly to Ben. I heard the plash of oars, and his loud, cheery voice encouraging me ; darkness over took me as my hands slipped their grasp. I slid downward, down, but not to my watery grave. The skiff shot past me. Ben Sample’s arm snatched I’ll not leave you, Bessy Dear, noble Ben! I wanted to throw myself on his breast, and tell him my secret, but something prevented me— I don’t know what—and I only pressed the hand that I held. There was no slackening to the river; it rose higher and higher every moment, and by ten o’clock, the water was over the. floor where we stood. Ben had carried the trunks and the things I thought most of, up stairs; and then we took to the second story. Here we stayed for two hours or more, I listening all the time for the sound of oars or voices, for I hoped that father would come and take ns off. Midnight came, and I grew iuipatioskfey 4uu*X eokAApltibissiiigly ocLcd Hen if he could tell why father did not come and rescue x'~. ’ i: "' '" r " “ I’m afraid I can, Bessie,” he answer ed, witli a grave face. “The great raft went down the river two hours ago. I heard the voices of the men shouting, and I don’t doubt your father is carried away with the rest. But don’t be afraid; they’re all safe, I hope, and will get to shore when morning comes.” I couldn’t help crying when he told me that; and I nestled up to him as if I had been a child, and he put his strong arms around me. It was not long after this that we felt the the house settling and tipping, and not much longer when it careened half-way over, and was whirled away into the river by the tor rent that had been undermining the foundations. That was an awful hour, my lad ! Ben held one arm around me, and with the other grasped the window-sill, while he braced his feet in the corner of the room; and the rising and falling of the poor wreck under as, as the heavy current swept us along, gave me at first the feeling that we were going straight to the bottom. The wind moaned out side, the water beat against the planks, and the beams cracked and gaped as though the poor old house was all fall ing apart. Long before daylight we both saw that it was settling down deeper and deeper into the water, which rose over the upper floor; and when Ben had succeeded in knocking out the scuttle, he dragged me out on the roof—how, I don’t know. I only know that he did it, and that but for him my drowned body would have floated there in that old wrecked house when the morning came. And I don’t know much about how the rest of that dreadful night passed. Ben sat up on the ridge, and held me by main strength; and in the cold and darkness I believe I slept; certainly I forgot where I was for a long time, and forgot I was cold, too. But then I didn’t know, until I woke up at broad daylight, that Ben had taken his eoat off, and put it around my shoulders. The house had sunk so low that one of the eaves was tipped clear out of water, and the other was three feet under. We were drifting slowly down the centre of the stream; the shore was about a mile off on either side, and there was not a sail nor a sigu of help in sight. I looked at Ben, perfectly hopeless and calm in my despair, and he looked with hope and courage. “ There’s one hope yet, Bessie,” he exclaimed, cheerily ; and his finger pointed to an object floating ten rods behind us—an object the sight of which filled my heart with gratitude to God that had heard and thus answered our prayers. It was my father’s skiff, with the oars lying in the bottom of it, following along in our track, as if to save us from destruction ! I understood how it was : Jacob Car die had drawn it up on the shore after deserting us, and the rise in the flood had carried it out; and, falling into the rowed me toward the shore. I “Look there !” he exclaimed; and I looked my last at the poor old house. The roof heaved and settled, the water washed over it, and it sank in a wild whirlpool that sucked it down. The rest is soon told. Poor father was drowned in the flood ; and I never again heard of Mr. Cardie. But a year afterwards, when Ben Sample had built this present house, I gave him my hand. The Disease of the Dog. Tho Nineteenth Century has an article on “ Hydrophobia and Rabies,” by Sir Thomas Watson, which challenges the attention alike of the friends and foes of the affectionate canine race. The w»i*« ■rrenwerrnHrTJyTfrdicioiis legislation all danger from mad dogs might be banished from England, and, of course, from the great cities of this and other countries. He dwells upon the distinction, which is not always understood, between hydro phobia in the human species and rabies in the canine. The term hydro- phobia is often erroniously applied to both diseases, but rabies in the dog is entirely different from hydrophobia in man. The rabid dog is never hydro- phobic. There would be no hydrophobia were there no rabies, and there could be no rabies unless it be communicated by a rabid animal. Among dogs, rabies can propogate rabies, but hydrophobia never reproduces itself. The point of greatest interest in the article is whether rabies has any other source than contagion; that is, inoculation by the specific virus. This the writer emphatically denies. Many causes have been assigned for its origin de novo, which are not the true causes. Thus, rabies has been ascribed to extreme heat of the weather, and it is thought by many to be especially likely to occur during the dog days. But statistics show that this is not the case. The disease occurs at all seasons in differently. It has been attributed to want of water in hot weather, and some times to want of food, but the theory is not borne out by experiment. The ap parent cases of spontaneous origin, like that of small-pox, are set aside by thorough examination. If, then, it be admitted, argues Sir Thomas Watson, that hydrophobia never occurs except from the specilic poison of a rabid ani mal, it follows that with the extinction of rabies hydrophobia would necessarily disappear. He recommends a quaran tine of several months, to which all the dogs in the country should be subjected, and the disease would die a natural death. Osniun Flogging his Officers. Some inside views of the siege of Plevna are given by Victor Lorie, a Ger man correspondent, who remained with the Turks to the last. Discipline was very strict in the camp, and Osman sometimes chastised refractory officers himself. One day a captain and a lieu tenant were taken before the 'conqueror to be punished for cowardice before the enemy. The captain was a head taller than the general, and very strongly The Marseillaise. The words and music of the “Mar- eillaiso ” have been attributed to a cer tain Rouget de Lille. He is said to have been born in 1760, and to have been the sou of a lawyer. In April, 1792, so runs the story, just after the French had declared war against the Austrians, De Lille happened to be in garrison at Strasburg. The mayor of the town invited him to dinner. The conversation changed on military mat- built. Both stood in an humble atti- | ters, and De Lille, who was known to tude, with their heads bent and their eyes fixed on the ground. Osman first spoke to them gravely and in a low tone; he then suddenly sprang upon the lieu tenant, lifted him into the air with his left hand, struck him repeatedly with his right fist on the head and chest, and then dashed him to the ground. He next turned to the captain, and gave him also a good thrashing. “It was strange,” says the German critic, “ to see this man, usually so calm and re served, leaping about with the agility of a cat, his eyes flashing and his face glowing, gnashing his teeth, and accom panying every blow with an exclamation of disgust and contempt.” The busiest place in Plevna during the siege was a handsome marble fountain at the south- have a turn for music and poetry, was asked by one of the guests to compose something suitable for the political oc casion. De Lille, excited by the dinner, and complimented by the demand, took his fiddle as soon as he reached his quarters, and produced what Ulbach calls “ the eternal poem of the great apogee of the Revolution.” It was originally known ns the “ Hymne des Marseillais.” Like Korner’s sword song, it was immediately learned by heart by everybody. Also, like Kor ner’s sword song, or like Jonah’s gourd, it grew up, as we see, in a single night. Not to sing it was a disgrace ; to be ignorant of it was almost a crime. It contained at first only six stanzas, but at least a dozen more have been added at odd times by other patriots. Of of re- em end of the principal street. The Bashi-Bazouks and Circassians here used \ these only one seems deserving to sell their plunder to tradesmen, who | membrance. afterwards sold them again at a good profit. High boots, clothing, and espe cially warm Russian cloaks, were in great demand. Thousands of Turkish soldiers in Plevna wore the Russian uni forms which they had thus obtained, and they were only recognizable as Ottomans by the fez on their heads. One of the Turkish infantry soldiers wore a Russian medal, mth the inscription, “ War against Poland—1863-4. ” the river asked. , * strong current of the neck, which set y° n think there is any danger of towards the middle of the stream, it had unsettling the house ?” he followed us all night. Ben looked wist- ! fully at it, and measured with his eye “It surely will, if it rises high the distance to it. The roof to which enough,” Ben replied. “Hark! hear "we clung was alternately sinking and that! The water is within twenty feet i swaying, and the water sucked and of the door. I don’t suppose I could wade from here to the bank. We must leave here at once, and when you’re safe. I’ll come back and save some of the things. If the water gains like this, all this floor will be under in an hour.” He went out again; I knew what for. The west foundation-wall of the house was next to the river, and father always kept a skiff tied there. 1 understood, from what Bon said, that he meant to take the skiff round the front and take us to the shore. I was putting on my hood and shawl when he came back. His face was as pale as ashes, and he never noticed moat first, but looked all around the room and into father’s chamber. eddied ominously around it. “ This old thing can’t swim many mo ments longer,” he said. “Can you hold on here alone, Bessy, while I swim out to the skiff and bring it to you ?” He did not wait for me to reply, but lifted me to the place where he had sat, and showed me how to grasp the bare rafter, where the boards had been strain ed off. When he hail done this, he stopped, just hs he was going to let him self off into the water, and looking at me with a tender, mournful look that I can never forget—no, not if I should live to be twice fourscore, he said, “You’ll be safe in ten minutes, I hope ; may God speed me, for your sake! Yet if any- Spcctaclcs and Moustaches. The British Medical Journal says : Among the lessons learned by the French in the late Prussian war is the fact that, with the aid of spectacles, short-sighted soldiers can fight as well as those whose sight is not affected. On the representation of Dr. Perrin, one of the professors of Val-de-Grace, a minis terial circular authorizes the rank and file, in common with officers, to wear spectacles whenever considered neces sary. The consequence is that myopic subjects, who used formerly to be re jected, are now enlisted in the French army. Another ministerial circular, ordering officers and soldiers to wear the moustache and beard, has lately appeared. The latter is to be in the form of a mouche, consisting of only a small tuft under the lower lip—the style of the Royalists. This was superseded under the Empire by a fuller beard called the “imperial;” but those in the colonies have the option or not of wear ing the full beard; all officers and sol diers to have their hair cut quite close. Thus we see that moustache or no moustache, beard or no beard, in the ! French, and, indeed, in our own army, depends entirely on the whim of the I commander-in-chief. When will the j authorities learn to treat soldiers like j intelligent beings, and allow them to wear what nature has endowed them with ? How They Got Their Farm. The Ottawa (111. ) Times says : .Some ime ago the citizens of Mendota were surprised to learn that a married couple who had apparently lived in peace and harmony in Illinois, had been divorced in Kansas. The mystery is now ex plained. The husband had homesteaded 160 acres of fine farming land, and there was another 160 acres adjoining not yet taken up. The pair were divorced, the widow entered the vacant quarter sec tion and established her claims sis the head of a family. When this was done the pair were remarried, and now have a tine farm of half a section. Golden Rules for Young Folks. The person who first sent these rules to be printed says truly, if any boy or girl thinks “it would bo liam work o i— r — _ of etirm in mind at t! e same time, just think also what a happy place it would make of Iiome if you only could.” 1. Shut every door after you, and without slamming it. 2. Never shout, jump or run, in the house. 3. Never call to persons up stairs, or in the next room ; if you wish to speak to them, go quietly where they are. 4. Always speak kindly and politely to servants, if you would have them do the same to you. 5. When told to do, or not to do, a thing, by either parent, never ask why you should or should not do it. ^ 6. Tell of your own faults and mis doings, not those of your brothers and sisters. 7. Carefully clean the mud or snow off your boots before entering the house. 8. Be prompt at every meal hour. 9. Never sit down at the table, or in the parlor, with dirty hands or tumbled hair. 10. Never interrupt any conversa tion, but wait patiently your turn to speak. 11. Never reserve your good manners for company, but be equally polite at home and abroad. 12. Let your first, last and best friend be your mother. De Lille was in his later year's twice sent to prison, and being reduced to the most sordid poverty, was obliged to translate English books, write prefaces to order, and do other literary hack labor to support life. A little before his death, when the greater part of glory’s gilt and life’s tinsel had been for him worn away by the hand of time, he was “ decorated with the Legion of Honor.” Several pensions also were conferred upon him, and there is no reason to doubt that they were paid, when most of the passions which money can gratify had been long extinguished in him by nge. Fb‘ died in 1836. He was ibe The Once Murderous Modocs. A gentleman just from the Quapaw Indian agency, Indian Territory, reports that the once famous Modoc Indians, since being placed on their reservation by the government in November, 1873, have advanced very rapidly in civiliza tion. The Modocs own, in their own right, 4,000 acres of good tillable land, on which they have seventeen good log houses, built by themselves, six double stables, eight com cribs, besides pens and houses for their stock, chickens, etc. On this laud they have put within the last year a good rail fence around 120 acres, which is all sown in wheat, which j at present gives promise of an abundant harvest, and they have split altogether 25,000 rails, and have over eight acres of cultivated land for each man, woman and child in the tribe. They have also 175 acres of corn, which will average from forty to forty-five bushels per acre. Fifty-nine of their children attend school at the Ottawa, Peoria and Wyandotte missions, and have made remarkable progress in all the branches taught in the common school. Among the most prominent members of the tribe are Bogus Charlie, Steamboat Frank, Shack Nasty Jim, Scarface Charlie and Long Jim. Bogus Charlie is apparently about thirty-five year's of age, medium height, and very fair complexion for a full- blooded Modoc. He has six hundred bushels of corn in one crib, and his partner, Shack Nasty Jim, has as much more. Jim is a low, heavy-set man, with the broad features and sheepy look so peculiar to the Indians, is in his way a genius, and is at all times laughing and making fun of those members of the tribe who cannot speak plain. Steamboat Frank is a tall, muscular fellow, rather good looking, and is a hard worker. His cribs contain about 1,300 bushels of com, and he has plenty of hogs, chickens, turkeys, ducks, etc., around him, and, like every one of the tribe, seems to like his new way of living; as they all, with out tm exception, say that hove they at items of Inlerr-n. General Grant climbed They had a smoke together. New song—“ Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like the neighbors’.” Five thousand pounds of artificial butter are manufactured daily in Pitts burg. Nearly 1,000,000 acres in the United States have been taken up within three months by settlers. The czar is said to be a good linguist. Ho delights in French novels, plays and music. He is a man of great goodness The Russian empress is a g od seamstress, aad could make Alexander a pair of pantaloons if he were to ask her for them. Mrs. Mary B. G. Tanner, a direct de scendant of King Henry VIII., died recently at Piermont, N. Y., aged nearly 102 years. ' A cave has been foimd in Wythe county, Ky., which, it is thought, is as large as the famous Mammoth Cave in that State. Editors amount to something in Ger many. For instance, the editor of the general post-office journal is called a “ Reichsoberamtszeitungschreiber.” The artesian well at Pesth, Hungary, which has been sunk for the purpose of obtaining a sufficient quantity of warm water for the public baths and municipal institutions, has attained a depth of 951 metres, and it is therefore the deepest in the world. At present it discharges 175,000 gallons of water, to a height of thirty-five feet, at a temperature of 161 deg. Fahrenheit; but the boring will be continued until the temperature is at least 178 deg. The remark of the Rev. John Newton, below, deserves to be written on the tablet of every heart. “ I see in this world,” he observes, “ two heaps—one of human happiness and one of misery. “ Now, if I can take but the smallest bit from the second heap and add to the first, I carry a point. If, as I go home, a child has dropped a half-penny, andif, by giving it another, I can wipe away its tears, I feel that I have done something. I should be glad, indeed, to do great things, but I will not neglect such little ones as this. ” These little things are what we can do, and we should. auuior of several essays, Idyls, songs, ; times h ive plenty to eat and a and drnruas, among which last is a liter good ary curiosity called “Macbeth,” a lyrical tragedy in three acts. But not without a rival is the honor of the “Marseillaise” ascribed to Rouget de Lille. Another story tells us that both words and music were com municated by a kind of inspiration to a body of volunteers of Marseilles.— London Society. Speed of Birds and Railroad Trains. Coming up th^Delaware river, via the Erie Railway, we noticed several large flocks of sheldrakes (Mergus). They were generally startled by the noise of the ti'ain, and we had good opportunities for watching their flight. One flock in particular attracted our attention. Starting just ahead of the train they flew up the river, but not so fast as to outstrip the train, which they just man aged to keep ahead of. After ten miles of such flying they apparently became tired and would start to alight, but tak ing fresh fright would go on again. This was repeated several times, and finally, as a sharp curve brought us fairly abreast of the flock, they again tried to alight, but quickly turning they went down the river. We question very much whether they are able to fly at a continuous rate of much more than thirty miles an hour, and think they were doing about all they could to keep ahead of our train, which was probably Terrible Death in a Mine. Michael Comerford, a Virginia (Nev.) miner, met a terrible death a few days ago by falling into the hot water below the shaft of the Hale & Norcross mine. He was missed about half-past two o’clock, and search was made for him along the incline below the 1,900 level. At a point forty-five feet above the 2,000 level a mark was found on one of the rollers on which the pump-rod moves, which indicated that his foot had slipped there. Just below were marks where his hands had grasped*the slimy sides of the rack and slipped away again. The marks of his struggles were traced down to the water below the 2,000 level. Here a timber was found protruding from the slum, which also bore the prints of his hands. As the miners held their lan terns over this cauldron of hot water, they shuddered to think of the fearful death which had overtaken their com rade. The body was not in sight, and the surface of the pool was still, except where the gases broke in bubbles,and the water heated at 152 degrees Fahrenheit, sent up continuous volumes of steam. After it became certain that Comerford must have fallen into the water, a long iron rod, with a hook at the end, was procured and the pool explored for the body. After considerable work the rod struck against something movable about twelve or fifteen feet below the surface. The hook caught and it was slowly drawn up. The miners bent breathless over the spot, and as the body came above the surface they were horrified at the ghostly spectacle which the swollen and cooked corpse presented. The body was almost double its natural size, being puffed up with the intense heat, and in many places the skin of the face and chest, which was as white as snow, had burst open. A bruise in the forehead showed that tho unfortunate miner had struck something in his fall and was doubtless stunned. The body was traveling at about the above-mentioned j wrapped up in a piece of canvas, and speed. So we have in the inventions of j then strapped to a board and placed upon man something that outstrips at least cer- | the case, where it was held upright by tain of our very fast flying birds.—The \ three or four of the miners and slowly house to keep them warm, whereas in Oregon it was a feast or a famine with them at all times. Long Jim has 1,500 bushels of corn, and is also a good farmer, as in fact they all are. They own u common 237 head of cattle, of which eighty are cows, and the farm is worked on the partnership plan, two or three taking as much as they can farm and sharing the crops. They have also cut 146 tons of hay the past season, and, the agent says, can, after this year, do without any hired help to assist and show them how to farm, or any assist ance from the United States. Country. hoisted to the surface, and the brother of the deceased, who works in the Sav age mine, and who had been sent for, met the remains at the mouth of the shaft, and was nearly crazed with grief. A Church Fair “Novelty,” Grace Reformed Church in Pittsburgh introduced a novelty at its recent fair. Young ladies, or ladies supposed to be young, were put up by auction, the suc cessful bidders obtaining them as part ners for the evening. To promote the fun of the occasion, the ladies were robed in sheets from head to foot while being auctioned off. The prices ranged from two to five dollars, and there was hearty merriment when the sheets were removed from the ladies, as each lady was knocked down to a successful bidder. Some of the gentlemen were delighted with their luck, and others were badly bored by finding themselves j remarkable are, an aqua-marine, far I compelled to be attentive for a whole ' superior to anything before seen in Eng- evening to some lady not eminent for ! laud, weighing over six ounces and a personal or mental attractiveness. It half, without the slightest blemish, and was an open question which of two a deep sea-green tint; also a topaz rival- young men was most badly taken in, the , ing that purchased for the Grand Mogul one to whom his own maiden aunt was at Goa for £11,260. These two remarka- Russiait Gems. An English magazine has the follow ing : One of the effects of the war in the East appears to be the dis- covery in out-of-the-way towns in Russia of gems of unsurpassed size and beauty, which doubtless have beeu jealously hoarded by their possessors, and only brought to light in times, like the pres ent, of national necessity. Some of these gems have naturally found their way to this country; perhaps (he most A Fortune In a Few Hours. Important petroleum developments are being made on the Riddle farm or Kansas City, in Butler county, says a Pittsburgh (Pa.) paper. The territory is not new, as for several years past several third sand wells have been oper ated on it. That of O. F. Emerson, small and considered of litte value, was recently drilled deeper, when a prolific fourth sand rock was struck, and the well named “Old Teaser.” This well, with machinery and five-acre lease, was offered for $3,500, and, finding no buy ers, the owner, just for luck, concluded to drill the whole deeper. This was done, and in a few hours an unexpected rock was struck. In one day the $3,500 property was increased in value to $100,000, and a sensation created in oil circles over the development. Ex tensive preparations were at once made to drill the old wells in that neighbor hood deeper and work on new rigs com menced. Leases were in great demand and fictitious prices paid. The great incentive was the known value and last ing qualities of fourth sand wells, as compared with short-lived producers in some localities. The other day the Cooper well, on the lease adjoining Emerson’s, and the Thomas well, on the McClymoud’s farm adjoining the Riddle farm, struck the fourth sand, and began producing at a rate that promised to eclipse “Old Teaser.” >8 auctioned, or he whose partner for the evening proved to be a neighbor’s moth er-in-law. He gave his youngest son a box of tools and a quart bottle of mucilage. And now he thinks it is time to treat himself. He is treating himself to a n«iw carpet, a parlor table, seventeen rolls of wall paper, and a yard section of rattan. ble gems vere received from Moscow by Mr. Bryce M. Wright, mineralogist, of Great Russell street, the possessor of the unique suite of diamonds called the •• Bryce Wright Diamonds,” valued at £21,000. Durii j 105,000. ,< \ a f abroad, I ported in,. 1877, tho JO yards times m United states sev of oqg3£, ; more tb year 1 ■ . Hn A Little Boy Kills a Huge Panther. One Saturday evening recently, little George Boston, son of Wm. K. Boston, went out in the Santa Fe swamp, near his father’s place in Alachua county, Fla., and came suddenly upon a large panther making a meal of some nice pork. Little George being an expert with his gun, crept up as near as he could to and fired upon the beast, striking him with seven or eight buck shot, one of which entered the right eye ball. The panther got caught in a grapevine. George fired again, but this time it was small shot. The panther then turned and took to a tree. George had three buckshot and a bullet left, so he loaded again as soon as possible, and that discharge brought the beast to the ground, dead. All this time the mate to this one was ouly a short Tdistanco in the swamp from George, growling fear fully. George said that if he had had any more buckshot he would have at tacked tho mate, but not having any, he skinned the one he had killed. One of the panther’s paws, taken off at the ankle, must have weighed two or two and a half pounds. His track, while running, would have covered a space the size of a dinner plate. The panther measured eight and a half feet long. His Ruined Feeling. No, I can’t pay you!” exclaimed he; “ sure’s I stand here, I haven’t got a cent of money to my name !” And bringing down his hand on the side of his leg, by way of emphasis, he all unintentionally awoke to the echo of the slumbering dimes, quarters, and half-dollars in his trousers pocket. Then as his creditor gazed into his eye, he wildly fled, while he gasped: “ Sil;£^F will t)©^he ruin of this coun- ■wv THIS PAGE CONTAINS FLAWS AND OTHER DEFECTS WHICH MAY APPEAR ON THE FILM Fashion Notes. Snow-balls are the most stylish flower for half-mourning. Flowers ora Luucliul for the throat, waist and pocket. Gold necklaces is Oesnola designs fit closely, like dog collars. The new finger rings are separated like tiny bangles, and banded,together. Sleeve buttons, enamelod te white linen, are worn for evening dress. The Japanese doll with its almond- shaped eyes, is the fashionable doll of the period. The “Stole” is a novelty this feasou in fur : those in white fox are the most beautiful. Round hats, made of camel’s hair to match the costume, are very stylish for young ladies. The most fashionable evening bonnets for the season are crownless, and com pletely covered with flowers. Large amethysts are again in greajL—-— favor ; and old-fashioned carhup^^r?^® delicately set in pale yelh 1 ^ White silk pocket liandkerchiefs with wide hem-stitched hem and large colored initial, e^iWEf'choice for gentlemen. New back combs are antique in design; happy is she who has treasured her great grandmother’s comb, for she will be the envy of all. Imported China crape scarfs, in deli cate colors, hand-embroidered and fin ished with fringe,' are a novelty to be worn over skirts of black or dark colored silk. The new muffs are very small, and some are of novel design. Those with mono grams worked upon them are considered handsome, but those made of feathers are the most elegant. Pocket-pieces made from two double eagles or two trade dollars, hollowed out, and opened by a secret spring, have frame and glass for picture, while out wardly they appear like a single, solid coin. Improved on Acquaintance. Enoch Emery is editor of the Peoria (111.) Transcript. A few months ago he married a Miss Mary Whitestead, who at the time was superintendent of schools in that county. In the course of time the election season rolled around and the lady aspired for a renomination be fore the Republican county convention. Her husband was a delegate, and the following account of how he presented her to the convention is given in an Illinois paper: *When Enoch Emery arose in the Peoria county convention to nominate the candidate for county sup erintendent of schools there came a sudden lull in the proceedings. Every one became interested, and the delegates leaned forward in breathless attention. One could have heard a horse cough in that awful stillness. The emotion ex tended even to the good Enoch himself. He arose, diffidently toying with his spectacles, first cleaning them with a new cambric handkerchief, and then, * placing them on his forhead, said: “I put in nomination for the office of county superintendent of schools Mrs. Mary Whitestead (a long pause! Emery. [Fluttering among the delegates.] I nominated her four years ago (sensation), and as I was in some sense responsible for her as an official, I got to watching her. [Cheers. | I watched her clote and saw her real worth. [Encouraging cheers. ] I was drawn nearer and nearer to her (cries of “ Good ! Go on !”) and the closer I got to her the better I liked her.” [Storm of cheers and yells, and cries of “ Whoopee !”] She was nomi nated without a dissenting voice. Whittier’s First Poem. Whittier’s first poem, it is said, was published when he was only eighteen years old, in a Newbnryport, Mof-s. paper, then edited by William LIot d Garrison. It was called “The Sea;” but it has never been reprinted in Whit- tiers works, and the poet has probably forgotten the lines. The New York Tribune says that ten years after this poem was published a boy, eight years old, found them in an ancient, tattered newspaper, and has kept this first stanza securely in his memory: “ Unfathomed deep, unfettered waste Of never-ending waves! Each by its rushing follower chased Through unillumined caves, Beneath the rocks, whose turrets rude, Ever since the birth of Time, Have heard, amid their solitude, 'J htf billows’ ceaseless chime."