The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, October 21, 1885, Image 2
G>?f '
: % "v ' '
Bnlldlai Upon the Sud*
^Xfew*nto woo, *tto well to wed,
W? so the world baa done
}'.. Biaee myrtles grow, end roses blov%
And morning bronght the snn.
llui have a oaro, yo youne and fai^
\v -' ' Mu enns ye pledge with truth;
Ba certain that yoor lore will wear
Beyond tte days of youth.
For if yo give not hoart to heart,
As well as hand for hand,
Sou'il find you'vo played the "unwise part,"
.ana "oaiis upon uio sand."
*Tw -well to ?avo, 'tis well to have
A goodly store of gold,
'And bold enough ot sterling stuff?
For charity ia cold.
Skit place not all yoar hopes and trust
In -what the deep mine brings;
We cannot live on yellow dust
Unmixed with purer things.
And he who piles up wealth alone
Will often have to stand
Beside his coffor-chest, and own
Ha "built upon the sand."
*Tis good to 8peak in kindly guiso,
And soothe whate'ur wo can;
For speech would bind tho human mind,
And love link man to man.
But stay not nt tho gentle words;
Let deedj with liuiguogo dwell;
:jv The ono who pities starving birds
Should scatter crumbs as well.
Tho meicy that is warm and truo
Must lend a helping hand;
For tlioso who talk, yet fail to do,
But "build upon the sand."
?Eliza Cook,
.
AMY'S ENTERPRISE.
i ?
"Ob," cried Amy Drake, "I am so
wretched?so unhappy!"
"Be you ?" Baid a curious, squeaky
voice, out of the tangle of dark-brown
vines and scarlet rose-hips that hid the
rude stcne wall ucon which she leaned.
"Ain't that a pretty bad lookout for a
gal o* your years ?"
It was a still, overclouded day, in
early autumn. The blackberries were
drying up on the vines; here and there
a cluster of of blue asters shone along
the edge of the wood, and the clamorous
voice of the little stream was beginning
to be muflled in falling leaves.
Amy had come out across the appleorchard,
to a place where she could be
quiet and alone. But it seemed now
that she was not alone. For down
among the scarlet berries sat Old Man
Offley. eating his dinner of thick slices
/vf ^ ?J i ??I J 1
vi utcau, aauuviiuuou wiui uoiucorneabeef,
and drinking with, infinite relish
out of a teacup filled from the brook.
At least that was what they called
him. If he had a first name or a middle
name, nobody knew it. He was
only known as Old Man Oflley, as he
journeyed about the country with his
basket* of shoe laces, porcelain-buttons,
pins and cheap cotton pocket-handkerchiefs.
He had no relations, no friends,
and apparently he was quite happy
and independent.
"Oh, is it you?" said Amy, a little
ashamed of her outburst "I?I didn't
know anybody was here. But, after
all, 1 don't care, I am wretched I"
"What's it all about?" said Old Man
Offley, munching contentedly away at
the bread and cold corned-beef.
' 'It's Aunt Oriana," sighed Amy,
She says I ought to be earning my
own living; she says Uncle Bemis can't
. afford to support me any'longer. But
I don't know what to do. They don't
toeed any more women at the carpetifactory;
and it isn't nice to work on
cigars, now that they have imported
those Bohemian hands. And I've
lost all my music-practice since I came
but here, where they have no piano,
iand every district school situation is
fall. I do wish I knew what to do !M
Old Man Oflley turned his tin cup
jupside down to dry, and folded up the
feed bandana handkerchief which had
berved at a table-cloth.
"For them as wants to work*" said
he, epigrammatically, "there's always
plenty to do."
i "What is there for me to do?" asked
lAmy, incredulously.
*wai," said Uld Man Offley, " I
hain't made a bad thing of ft peddlin'
?mind I don't say as ever I got rich
tat the business, but I never starved at
it, neither."
> Amy looked at him in grave surprise.
"I doat mean buttons and shoe*
blacking/' said Old Man Offley. "Law
bless you. childl there's enough of that
business already; and I don't want no
more oppositions set up. But there's
< lots of nice crinkum-crankums as the
't' fine ladies would buy if they had them
b^gj^to their doors?laces, you
know, an&crochay works, and patternbooks,
and? kaw bless you ! once I
taoa ? .1. ?? * *
, nno ?U a pinue wueu BOIUO OnO DM gOl
j cut, and what a boHejrln' there was for
court-plaster ! None nearer than the
drag store in the post office, live miles
away. And cologne water, and hairgreasy
and hair-pins, and all sorts o'
truck". When I was down in York
6tat<\ I seen two young ladies a trampin'
up and down the road with big,
knotted sticks, and their man-servant
; ;; lie came after with a one-hoss shay
and the trunks. They was a wallrin'
( lor pleasure, I hearn tell. Why
Uould&'t you walk for profU~-h<y?"
' ' ' -i:. - i. S
"Do you really think I could succeed
in a busines like that?" asked
Amy, with kindling eyes.
"Just try," nodded Old Man Oflley.
And he shouldered his pack, hitched
the tin cup to one of his coat~button9,
and went tmdging off over the carpet
of yellow leaves that edged the woodland
path.
Amy Drake leanded over the wall,
with her eyes fixed abstractedly on the
red rose-hips and the maroon leaves of
a climbing vine beyond for a minute,
and then she said:
"I believe I'll try it!"
She said nothing on the subject to
Aunt Oriana. Between her and tliut
lady there existed a sort of silent hostility.
But she chose an opportunity when
her Uncle Bemis sat alone by the
stove to ask timidly:
'Uncle, will you lend me ten dollars
?"
"Ten dollars?" repeated her Uncle
Bcmis.
"Yes, uncle, ten dollars."
"Ten dollars Is a deal of money," observed
Uncle Bemis.
"Yes, I know it is," said Amy.
"Bnt I want it as capital."
"Eh?" said Uncle Bemis.
"Capital ! To invest in business I"
explained Amy.
Uncle Bemis stared with fishy, blue
eyes.
"I'm tired of this sort of life !" said
A ?Tf 1 ? - " '
i dCxiijjr* x vo isuiue up my mioa id ao
something for rayself. And if you
will lend me ten dollars, I will try to
return it again very soon; and it may
perhaps be the gateway of a newer
and more independent existence to
me."
Uncle Bern is : joked apprehensively
at the door, fumbled in his pocket,
and drew forth a flat, begrumbled
greenback.
"Here 1" he said, pressing it into his
niece's hand. "P'raps you hadn't better
mention it to your aunt 1"
"I will not," said Amy. "But oh,
uncle, I am so much obliged to you!"
She kissed the wrinkled cheek, and
as she did so a moisture dimmed Uncle
Bemi8' faded blue eyes.
"Tain't my fault that you and your
aunt don't hit it off no better." said he.
"I know it, uncle," said Amy.
She took the early train, next day,
and went to Bridgeport, pondering as
she did eo what sort of stock would
be most profitable to invest in.
Suppose I were a lady sitting by
my fire, with noth:Asr to do but amiiRn
myself?what shculd I want?" she
asked herself. "Luce-patterns ? worsted?
canvas needles? novels^ cotirtplaster?"
with an odd recollection ot
Old Man offley'.s hint. "Oh, there are
plenty of things ! Only 1 must make
make my ten dollar bill go as far as
possible !"
* ****** *
"A peddler 1" said Miss Marchcroft.
"Send her away !"
But Amy Drake had trained herself
not easily to be rebuffed.
She pushed past the maid, with ladylike
audacity. 1
"Would you look at my wares?"
i saiu sue. "i nave some stamped d'oyleys
and Kensington patterns that I
think would interest you. And 1 have
the latest fancy stiches for silk patchwork."
At this, Miss Marchcroft roused up.
"Well, perhaps I'll look at 'em,"
said she.
At the facto^p where a faded little
woman was te/ing to teach half a dozen
boisterous children, Amy produced (
a new pamphlet, "Every Lady Her
Own Seamtress," with h roll of of the
newest patterns for little aprons and ,
guimpes.
Mrs. Hodson shook her head at first,
but Anally relented, and Amy made
a comprehensive sale there.
"1 never purchase from street-sellers,"
said Mrs. Judge Overman.
"But I have superior wares," said
Amy. "Here is a shawl of white
Shetland wool commenced in the cobweb
stitch, and I have some very desirable
remnants of Hamburg insertions,
and real linen pocket-handkerchief
with the borders stamped ready
for embroidery, a la Kate Greenaway."
Mrs. Overman looked amazed.
"I don't care if you bring them in/'
said she. ,
Two gentlemen were playing chess
at the fireside?the old Judge himself,
and a gentleman guest?Harry Bennerton
from Bridgeport He -rose and
bowed.
I "Miss Dra?*che cried in surprise, j
I Amy inclined her head.
"Yes," she said, quietly.
And thin she began explaining her
novelties to Mrs. Overman.
The Judge's wife bought several
pretty things, and when Amy was
gone, she turned to Bennerton.
Harry," said she, "where did you
meet that girl*"
"At a surprise-party in Bridgeport "
"A reduced lady, eh ?"
"I don't know anything about that,'*
, ,p-. y-,
said Bennerton. I rather fancied her 1
at the time. But I don't care to prosecute
the acquaintace of a?peddler." '
'To do her justice," drily remarked
Mrs. Overman, "she did not seem to
care to prosecute yours." J
But Amy cried a little behind her
yell as she walked down the villlage
street.
"He danced every dance with me
then," she thought. ' He took me out
on the lawn, and he did everything
but actually propose. And now?
Well, it is better to know the worst at
once. If he despises me because I l
earn my own living, he is not. the material
of which my 'mpn among men'
must be made."
At the end of a month, she paid
back the ten-dollar bill to Uucle Bemis.
and Aunt. Orinnn npvor won on.. .
the wiser for the transaction.
"Oh, uncle," she said, "I am doing
so well! I am so thankful that Old
Man Oflley advised me to strike out
into the world for myself. And,
uncle?"
"Well?"
"Herbert Hawkes took me across to
"Vale Devon in his wagon, last week.
He was going that way, and he said
it would save me the walK. I sold ever
so many things in Vale Devon I j
And, uncle?"
"Well?" with another blink of the |
faded eyes. j
"Herbert h?s bought a house and j 4
lot. And he put out his sign?4Doc- J
tor Hawkes.' Do you think he will
succeed, uncle?"
"Dunno," said Uncle Bemis. "Calkerlate
likely he will. Guess he's a
smart feller."
"Because if he does," said Amy "I?
I've promised to marry him !**
"And what's to become of the peddlin*
business?" asked Uncle Bemis.
waggishly.
"Oh, that will have to be given upP
said Amy. "But I'm so glad I commenced
it,because Herbert says he never
admired ine half so much as when he
saw how independent 1 was. And that
first put it into his head to like me."
But when Old Man Offley heard of
it, he only shrugged his shoulders.
"That's a woman all over," said he.
"No sooner does she get well established
in busines, than she ups and gets
married 1 But if she's suited, so am
11" <
The Mau on the Bridge,
A gentleman recently established in . .
business in Paris, and formerly an of- I
fleer in the United States Army during
the civil war, told me the follow- .
ing story: He was with his regiment
on duty in (I think) Tennessee, and
was inforlned one day that the newly
appointed commander of that division
of the army was to arrive that day,
and would take possession of his command
the next morning. Early on the
following morning the officer chanced ^
to be standing on the bnnk nf ?.
near where the forces were encamped, |
when he saw on the other side of the I
water a sandy-bearded man on horseback,
with a cigar between his teeth,
who was endeavoring to force his
horse to cross a narrow wooden bridge
that was thrown across the stream.
The bridge had no railings, and the
planks were slippery with frost, so
that the passage presented a certain
amount of danger. The ollicer called
to the stranger not to cross. He still
persisted in trying to indHce his horse
to go over the bridge, when the other
waxing wroth at his obstinacy shouted:
"Turn back, 'you?adjective?fool I. c
Do you want to get ducked or get
drowned? Don't you see the bridge
is as slippery as glass?" The stranger, 1
who wore a common blue army over- 1
coat, raised his cap, turned around
and galloped away. What was the 8
officer's horror a few hours later, when, 1
.A. i.1 * - - *
hi? mo review 01 ine troops by their
new commander, he recognized in the
stranger General Grant. At the close
of the review the General sent for bim
and addressed him as follows: "You
are the person who prevented me from
venturing on the bridge this morning,
Colonel X , are you not?" An affirmative
response was given with a
sinking heart. "I wished to tell you
that I am very much obliged to you.
You saved me from committing a
very silly and foolhardy action, and
probably also from an unpleasant
drenching." "And that," concluded
the Colonel, "was my first introduction
to General Grant."?Philadelphia Telegraph.
_
yhe Sunshine of Hla
"What is it that keepa you so busy
writing so late in your study every ,
night?" asked Mrs. Yerger of herhua- ,
band. {
"I am writing the history of nay <
life." <
"X suppose you mention me in it?* j
"Oh, yes: I call you the sunsine cK 1
my existence.** {
"Do I really throw so much sunshine .
into ybur daily life?H ^
"I refer to you as the sunshine o{ ^
m| existence because you make it fco4
for me.'*~?itlftiflnrf.
; (: f K . ' : V; v
LIFE ON A LOCOMOTIVE.:
i
A. Veteran Engineer Narrates
Some Experiences.
&. Great Improvement in Engines of Today?Some
Fast Trips.
The other night a Chicago reporter
iat in the modest parlor of a modest
iotel, talking to a modest veteran engineer
employed on one of Chicago's
eading railroads. For twenty-two
rears he had pulled the lever of a loconotive
on the same road, and but for
lis modesty could reel off yarns of
.hrilling experiences by the yard.
"This reminds me," said he, allud
ng to tho storm which was providing,
"of a night a number of years
jgo, when a very strange circumstance j
lappened on the train [ was running, j
L only mention it to illustrate the ex- j
ireme forethought which it is contin- !
lallv necessary for an engineer to ex- !
?rcise. As we pulled out of the depot
[ noticed a storm gathering in the
west. Before we hi?d got far beyond
;he city limits wa were into it. It
was a gruesome night, with the lightling
flashing incessantly, the thunder
crashing and rolling, and the wind
blowing a hurricane, I suddenly
ihought ten chances to one, at some
point on the road, I would be likely to
run across some stray freight cars, for
ihe wind was strong enough to blow
Jiem from the switches on the main
irack. The thought made me cau:ious,
and I kept a sharp lookout
ihead. My fears proved correct, for
sve had not gone far when a bright
lash of lightning brought into bold
relief against the black sky a number
freight cars which the wind had
carried off a side track and piled up
promiscuously on the main track. But
being ready for just such an emergency
I pulled up in time to avert a catastronho-"
*? ?
"Do you find engines in these days
easier to handle than when you first
look hold of the lever?"
"Oh, yes. There has been so many
improvements of late years that a locomotive
is much easier to run. It is
much easier to get up steam. The
use of coal instead of wood tends to
this result; and then the patent injector
is a great improvement over the
>ld pump. The automatic air-brake
is a great help, and there are many
minor improvements being constantly
Drought forward?all of more or less
utility?which lighten the labor of an
mgineer. Some roads use a patent
Dell-ringer, which is run by steam, but
[ never took kindly to it. It proved a
lource of annoyance more than anything
else."
"I suppose there has beeq a great
:hange of style in engines in the last
'.wenty years?"
Yes, they are much heavier, for one
;hlng. In the old days a locomotive
lad only to pull three or four cars.
3ne with a 15-inch cylinder and 22nch
stroke, weighing twenty-eight to
.hirty tons, was sufficient. Now trains
ire made up of fifteen to twenty cars,
ind the weight of the locomotives has
>een increased to about forty-six tons,
vith an 18-inch cylinder and a 24-inch
itroke. An engine with the tank all
oaded and ready to start on a run
vill weigh seventy-live tons."
"Have engineers improved as much
is the engines?"
"Decidedly, yes. In the old days an
rogineer was nobody unless he was
>ne of the boys. He was expected to
>e 'hail fellow, well met' with every)ody,
and the amount of whisky a first;lass
engineer could consume in a
light was something fearful to cnnemplate.
Now, however, drinking is
absolutely prohibited. While the'boys'
vere good in their day, there are
nany who would not do for these
;imes. They are a better educated
:las8 of men in these days than they
vere formerly, for they do not spend
heir spare time in carousals. But
itill you will find them a jolly set
withal."
"Is it necessary to be a practical machinist
to be a first-class engineer?"
"By no jaeans. The very best engineers
are those who are first 'wipers*
tt the round house, next firemen, and
ire finallv mit in char?r? nf t.hA Wnmn
J re. By constantly being about an
rngino tbey become familiar with the
lifferent parts and soon learn how to
landle it, provided, of coarse, that
;hey take an interest in the business."
"What is the average time of an exiress-train
in these days?"
"Including stops, about thirty miles
in hour. There have been some renarkable
bursts of speed, however, but
.hose were on extra occasions. PhiL
)'Neil, who runs the Omaha express
>ver on the Northwestern, carries the 1
Ate horns In this regard, I believe.
With the 'Wabash' he brought a party
>f directors from Clinton, Iowa, to.
Chicago at an average speed of a mile
t minute for 188 miles. This was in.
1684. Preston, another Northwestern
engineer, made a record when he took
?p|
;: *"<?'
*> ? * '* r ^ "* , . I * .
the Jarrett & Palmer troupe from Chi.
cago to the Bluffs when they were on
their way to San Francisco. He left
Chicago at 10:30 p. m.. arriving at |
Clinton, Iowa, 1:10 a. in.; left Clinton '
at 1:15 a. m., and reached Boone at
6:31 a. m.; left Boone at 6:40 a. in., ,
anil reached the Bluffs at 10 a. m. j
That means that he made the run at j
the rate of 46.45 miles per hour. That ,
was a great run."
Styles In Artificial Limbs.
wo signs in the show window of a '
Barclay street dealer in surgical appli- !
ances read as follows: "Old Style Leg" j
worn oy x,nose wno are not proud of
their personal appearance ana by poor
men who are unable to pay the price
demanded for finer work. We still
have large orders for them, and
always expect to have. They cost
from $5 to $25, according to workmanship.
The new style of leg costs from :
$75 to $200. The former price is for !
a leg from the knee downward, while
the latter takes in a whole leg, from
the hip joint to the big toe. These
legs are very light. They are hollow
and are made of a great many layers
of wood, as thin as wall paper, cemented
together. They nre comfortable
to the stump, and the springs in
them give their owner an almost
natural gait. There is a spring joint
at the toes nn? nk onbio
?? * ? ? ? ? Vt?w t?UI44Vf n iiav>u
enables the foot to bend up and down,
and also a lateral joint at the same
place, that allows the foot to turn
from side to side.
"It is in arms, however, that this
business has made the most rapid
advancement," continued the dealer.
"The man who invented the artificial
arm and hand was a practical philanthropist.
When I was a boy a man
who lost his arm was obliged to wear
a wooden stump with a screw socket
at the end. Into this he could screw
a knife, spoon, or fork to help him
while eating, and a hook to use at
other times. Now we can give him a
wrist, hand, and fingers which work
with springs, and almost completely
?1 -* ' *
bun.o tuc piaco ui trie missing members.
He can put a knife, spoon, and
fork between his fingers, which will
hold them with a grip of steel, and
thus he may eat without discomfort.
He can also put a pen between his
fingers, and write almost as well as he
could with his natural hand. Ten
years ago this would have been
regarded as a miracle. This style of [
arm sells for $100. They make artificial
portions of a man's body now J
almost as serviceable as the real
ones."?New York Sun.
A I'uzzlc with Letters.
Some time since students at the Boston
Institute of Technology designed a
puzzle which is quite interesting. Given
two words of an equal number ol
letters, the problem is to change one
to the other by altering one letter at a
time of the tirst so as to make a legitimate
English word continuing the alterations
until the desired result is attained.
The conditions are that only
one letter shall be altered to form each
new word, and that none but words
which can be found in the English
dictionaries shall be used. Here a
some examples of the changes:
East to West.?East, vast, vest,
west.
Dog to Cat.?Dog, dig, fig, fit, fat,
cat.
Soup to Fish.?Soup, soul, soil, foil,
fowl, foot, coot, cost, cast, fast, fist,
fish.
Road to Tlftll.?"Rnart. rnnrt rnnf
? - -V ' 'I
coot, coat, coal, coil, toil, tail, rail. j
Milk to Hash.?Milk, mile, malc^'
mate, hate, hath, hash.
What Ererj One Wants to See*
A dentist with the toothache
A rtnnfcnr tnkn his nwn mwtiolna
A druggist sample his own prescrip j
tions.
A coal dealer buy bis own coal on
hfe own scales at his own regular retail
price.
/A summer boarding house which
meets your expectations.
' A deaf and dumb amateur vocalist
A paralyzed comic recitationlat.
A college student who realizes how
little he knows.
A small boy who kncws enough U
be seen and not heard.
A woman who will blankly admij
that some other woman is better look j
tag than the is herself,?Net* Tori
Graphic.
*'2 '***vV 'Vj iV^ 1 ' ,3
c-v ' % '
unl'i!;Bt&f; :*. ?
ana "jNew Style .Leg." They show 1
that there is a fashion in artificial- j
legs. The old-style leg consists of a
short wooden stump and socket, which
was to bo fastened to the remaining
portion of the missing njember by a !
8tout broad strap. It was of the same
style usually exhibited in picture
books and on the comic opera stage. ,
The new-style leg was a flesh-colored
copy of a human leg and foot, light,
and annnrpntlv a a nAmfnrfoWn .... ?
WlkULVl unviu Ut3 a
cripple would require.
' The old style leg," said the proprietor,
"is a clumsy affair, and is chiefly
;< v ; :.y * ,'v
, , , . .
CLIPPINGS FOU THE CURIOUS.
New Guinea is the largest island ia
Ibe world.
Divers, by a recent French invention,
are said to be enabled to go down
a distance of 800 feet below the surface
of the water.
Weasels were kept in houses in ancien
Home, instead of cats, for the
purpose of killing vermin.
Prof. Huxley's idea of a well-proportioned
man is one weighing 154
pounds, three pounds of which are
brains.
A hand placed near the orifice from
which a high pressure of steam is issuing
will not scald. The rapid extension
renders the heat latent.
The lloman nobility, at the close of
the third Punic War, E. C. 134, wore a
acripe 01 purple on their tunic and a
gold ring on their finger, to distinguish
theur from the plebians.
The microscope shows that mould is
a forest of beautiful trees, with the
branches, leaves and fruit; that butterflies
are fully feathered; that hairs
are hollow tubes; and the surface of
our bodies is covered with scales like>
a fish.
The African elephant will be extinct ^
In another hundred vr??r? nnipaa o at<%rv
j -v,r
is put to the indiscriminate massacre
now going on. So says Josef Menges?
the great importer of African wild
beasts, and probably the most eminent
authority on such subjects.
A physician of India proposes making
experrnents in the treatment of
cholera on criminals sentenced to death.
The consent of the prisoner would be
obtained, with the promise of exemption
from further puishment if the
experiment should not be fatal.
The descendants of the common
brook trout sent to Tasmania have
shown a remarkable tendency to vary
in shape and markings. Furthermore
they are migrating to salt water, and
thus becoming anadromous. The same
is true of the New Zealand acclimatants.
One of the most dignified and Important
personages in the German em- ^ <
pire is Herr Staude. lie is the barber
of Kaiser Wilhelm; and so impressed
is he with the importance of his position
that he closes his shop to other
customers, and devotes all his time and
ingenuity to the task of shaving the
Emperor, whom he accompanies on all
trips to Ems and other watering
places.
The Cradle of the Washburns.
One of the relics in the Norlands library
at which I looked with unusual
Interest, writes the Lewiston (Me.)Journal
"Rambler," was the Wash.
burn cradle?the cradle in which allot
the seven Washburn brothers wer&
ruckba. jx iooks iire a picture I had
seen of a cradle imported in the Mayflower.
It is a home made piece of
furniture, constructed of pine-board?
an inch thick, rudely dove-tailed together.
It has a buggy top and solid
pine rockers, shaped like half moons,. ^
with no twist or scrolls to decorate- "
them, but numerous scars where chip?
apparently had been knocked out of
them by the paternal cowhide boot.
A crack had necessitated the nailims
of a large cleat on the inside. The
outside is painted a dark green tint.
The inside never was painted, but it is
well browned by age. Its associationsmake
this one of the most remarkable'
cradles in existence. Four Congressmen
rocked in it Two ministers
DleniDOtentiarv to fnrAinm />nnn>?iM
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have been lulled to sleep within its ,
pine boards. Its soporific influencehas
been grateful to two governors.
It has held a secretary of state, whom.
I saw looking at it with a smile, the
other day. By the side of the cradle,,
and equally venerated by the family*,
is a very old spinning wheel, once operated
in the chimney corner of the' \
Washburn homestead, by Martha Benjamin
Washburn, the mother of the>
renowned seven sons.
A Bee Snperstitlon.
bays an English exchange : The instance
given of the carrying out at.
Geeston, in Rutland, of the superstition
that bees will not remain after a.
death in the house of their owner, especially
of the owner himself, unless
an intimation be given to them of the
fact, might be multiplied indefinitely,.
for it prevails over a considerable portion
of England. In the case men- ,
tloned, the widow knocked at the beehives
one after the other, repeating- ^
each time the formula, "lie's arone. htf*
gone," and as the bees hummed' in re*
ply it was understood that they accepted
the news and would stay. In Herefordshire
it is considered sufficient to<
tie a piece of crape to a stick set in
front of the hives, and in rther
counties Chose or similar precautions
are always observed by persons whowould
not lose their bees. It is diffi- J[
eult to account for this widespread belief,
or to give any possible conjecture?a
to its origin.
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