The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, March 09, 1886, Image 3
THE WINDING OF THE SKElhi.
I held the skein for her one night,
When the shadowy glint of the fire-light
Danced fitfully on the opposite wall.
Polly and I, and that was all,
Were there to see the ghostly ball;
Tongs and Bcuttle, hearth-dogs and cat,
Venus de Milo and mandarin fat,
Table and lamp, and chairs whore we sat,
In rytbmio measure went round and round,
In rythmio measure with never a sound,
While Polly's arms as she wound and wound,
Looked like a fiddler drawing his bow
Across liiB fiddle to and fro;
The strings were those of the skoin, you kuow
I held the skoin.
I held the skein. Fd known her long,
And my heart had learned the sumo old song
That hearts have Bung eincc lioa-ta were made,
Trilled in the Bunlight or sobbed iu the shade.
But my lips were mute, for I was ufraid
To speak my thoughts. 801 hold my peace
And borrowed hope, and took new loaso
Of a friendship I hated yet dreaded might ceaso
For Polly was oddish and queer in her ways,
Her yeas were nays and her nays wore yeas,
And it often took mo days and days
To find out if she was vexed or pleased,
Or if I'd been wounded or only teased;
But her ladyship was this night appeaBed;
I held the Bkoin.
I hold the skein, the last few strands;
And as they escaped, my outatretche l hands
Were stretched ou* further and further still
(You see, the yarn might have dropped), until
Somehow?well, Polly wasn't ill,
Only a little b t tired, she said,
v And, perhaps, a suspicion of ache in the head
That nestled close under a beard that was red,
But is auburn now. And slio ca'.ls me Ned,
And Bays it was really very ill-bred
To kiBs her and hold her waist iustead
Of the skeiu, and she'll never t-unt m? again
But she haB, years have flown since then
I held the skein.
?Oakland Week.
BLUE BELL'S;
' I
or. The Moot-I*lnck'? Story.
BY M. MOHltE-Ii.
One fine morning, as I was leisurely
walking down Main street, with no particular
object in view, my attention was
I attracted to a little bootblack. Some
one in passing had dropped, or carelessly
thrown away a small bunch of blue
^ bells. My attention was first attracted
to the little fellow by his stooping to
? pick tliem up, but what was my amuseIinent.
to see him tenderly kiss them and
f then carefully fasten them in the button
hole of his faded jacket. My curiosity
was aroused. I made up my 'mind to
i quiz the boy, so I walked up to him and
' asked him for a shine. I looked at the
boy carefully, he was very small and
very poorly dressed, he was pale and
thin, and the large blue eyes looked as
if they were full of unshed tears.
"Half-a-dime," he said, when he had
put a final polish on my shoes.
I took out a quarter, and said, as I
balanced it on my fore-finger. "Ilcrc is
ten cents for the shine and fifteen cents,
for the flowers," pointing to the bells in
his button hole.
i He put his small hand over the flowers
quickly, and gave a quick gasp.
' "No, sir; I can't sell them; if I wa?
^ starving I wouldn't sell a blue-bell."
"And why not, my little man?" I inquired.
He looked at me so piteously that I
was almost sorry I hud asked him. I put
my hand on his head and said:
*'Excuse me for asking, you need not
i tell me unless you wish to, and you can
,i keep the quarter besides."
1| He looked up at me a moment and
W then said:
"I like you, and if you care to listen
I'll tell you."
s "Of course I am anxious to hear why
you love the bluebells."
t4I will commence at the first and tell
it all to you, but lirst let us go down
there and sit down," pointing to some
dry goods boxes not far from where we
stood.
We went, and after seating ourselves
on a small box behind some larger ones
where we would not be observed, he
took the blue bell bouquet and holding
it in his hand, began by saying:
I i Jf Tiiuf <1 irmi * nr?A ? ?
M.%, AO juob C* j V.U1 t?gv/ LH13 1111/11 L11 ^ UUU
it has been such a long year I thought
the blue bells never would come," and
then he stopped and put his hands over
* his pycs as if trying to shut out some
horrid sight*, I did not interrupt his reverie.
Presently he took down his hand,
and said abruptly:
"My father was a drunkard. We
once owned some fine property, I've
heard mother say, but that was before I
was born, for we have always been poor
as far back as I can. remember. Mother
;says that father drank up the farm, the
A VPri hnrcoe clw?nn
MV?MVWJ UHVVJ/; \/V l? Oj 1 Ui 111"
ture and everything else. We got so
poor mother hud to go out and wash by
the day to get food for Bess and me to
eat. We lived in a little log house, a
quarter of a mile from any one; it was
about half a mile to towr. Mother used
to walk to town every day, except Saturday,
to wash for somebody. On Saturday
she washed for ourselves and
ironed on Sunday.
"Sunday is the Lord's day. Your
mother certainly didn't work on the
Sabbath!"
"Yes, sir; she had to. Mother said
the Lord made six days for the saloonkeeper
and one for Himself, but He forgot
to make a day for the drunkard's
wife. She said the saloon keepers had
confiscated the Lord's day, but she lv\d
hoped the Lord would consider her cirmimatjinona
nnrl fnrnrivo l>nr for wnrtin#.
- ? f,- - " vinutg
on the Sabbath. She said if there were
110 saloons she would not have to work
on Sunday. There were just four of us,
father, mother, Baby Bess and Willie,
that is me."
? "So your name is Willie, is it ? but
go on with your story."
"Well, as I said, mother was away all
day, and sometimes she would not get
home until after dark; she was not very
strong, and 'sometimes she had big
washings, and sometimes we didn't
have much to cat, because the ladies
mother washed for, didn't have the
right change, or they would forget to
ask their husbands for it. Mother always
hated to a*k for money after she
had earned it, the naid it did seem as if
-they ought to know that *he needed the
-money or ?hs wo-jld not wash for it,
>a?d it generally^ happened that when
I
one didn't have the changc none of
them did, so sometimes we got awful
hungry while we wero wuiting for folks
to pay us."
"Why didn't your mother ask for
licr money; it was hcr's after she earned
it?"
"Slio was afraid to, for sometimes
they would get mad and say she didn't
half wash their clothes, and then they
would hunt up a new wash woman. It
was one of those weeks when nobody
had any change, it was Friday morning,
we had very little to eat on Thursday,
aud on Friday morning there was only a
pint of corn-meal and about two spoonfuls
of molasses. Mother baked tho
mcui into bread, and told me to feed the
baby when she woke, and to keep a
sharp lookout for father; he was in town
on a big spree; he was awful cross when
he was drinking; it was not safe for him
to get his hands 011 us, so we always hid
when we saw him coming, if mother
was not at home. Little Bess would
nearly go into fits when she saw him
coming home drunk. 'Don't let Hess
cry if you can help it, Willie; I am afraid
I won't get home until after dark to-night,
Mrs. Gray always has such large washings,
but I will come as soon as I can. and
will bring home some provisions, for I
must have some money to-night, or we
starve.' She kissed Baby Bess, a8 she
lay asleep and then kissed me at the
door. 'Be a good boy, Willie, and take
care of little sister.' Bessie slept a long
time that morning, and I passed the
time in sitting by her and going to the
door to watch for father. When she
woke up she said the first thing, 'Baby
is so hungry, Willie, get something to
eat.' 'Get up, Bessie, and let me dress
you, and then we will have breakfast.'
I had not eaten a mouthful, nor had
mother tasted food before leaving
home, and T wsis n.wfnl Vmnirrv ?nvcnlf
She got up, and I dressed, washed and
combed her; but when we sat down to
the table, Bessie looked at the food and
then she just dropped her curly head
right down on the table, and sobbed
out : 'Oh, "Willie, I am so tired
of corn bread and molasses, I can't cat
it. I want some meat and butter.' j Don't
cry, Baby,' I said, stroking her curls,
'mother will bring home something tonight.'
'But it is so long to wait?this
is Mrs. Gray's day and mother is always
late when she washes for her.' 'Try to
cat,' I said, and I put a rpoonful of molasses
on her plate, and she did try; but
she only swallowed a few inouthfuls,
and then she left the table. I ate a
small piece of dry bread, I thought
maybe she woidd cat the molasses, so I
did not touch it. All day she kept saying
she was hungry, but refused to cat
what we had. li was a long day to
both of us. Father had not com' home,
and it was ncHrly dark; we were oth
sining on tne cioor step, Jiessic laid lier
head against ray arm, and began to cry,
'I'm so hungry, Willie, mother stays so
late to-night." 'Don't cry, Baby, mother
will soon be home.' 'Of course she will,'
exclaimed George Anderson: he lived a
mile beyond up, and as he spoke he
tossed a bunch of blue bells into Bessie's
lap. 'Oh, how pretty!'she exclaimed,
while the tears dropped from her sweet
blue eyes down on the pretty blue bells.
'Come, Bessie,' I said, 'let me fasten
them among your curls.' ?hc got up
and stood on the door step with lier face
towards the house. I stood behind
lier and tied the blue-bellsin her golden
curls. I had just fastened the last one
when some one jerked nic oil the bottom
step. It was father: he was drunk,
and 1 knew by his looks that he was almost
crazy with drink. lie pushed me
aside and stood between little Bessie
and me. Bessie turned to run, but he
caught her and said, 'You have been
crying; what did Willie do to you?'
She was so white and scared that I.
thought she would faint. 'Willie didn't
do anything,' she gasped out. Father
let her go and grasped me; he commenced
to shake me awful. 'You rascal,
what did you do to Bessie? Tell me, or
I will shake the breath out of you.' lie
shook me so I could not answer. Then
little Bessie caught him by the arm,
'Please, father, don't hurt, Willie; I was
so hungry it made me cry.' He looked
in at table and saw the bread and molasses.
'You little white-faced liar, you
are not hungry; look at that table, there
is plenty to eat and good enough, too,
for such a brat as you,' and he shook
her roughly. She began to cry and
I tried to put my arm around her,
but my father pushed me away. 'If
you can't cat anything, I will
give you something to drink,' and he
caught her up in his arms and started
down the path that led to the pond
whe?c we got wash-water. It was not
a frog hole, the water was as clear as a
lake, and it was surrounded by green
grass and several large trees grew near
the bank. It was a lovely place in summer
and a glorious place for skating in
the winter. It was only a short distance
from the house. Bessie hushed crying
but she looked so awful scared. I followed
close behind father. Til give
you something to drink,' he exclaimed,
wllpn Vll> /I/1
.. ..V wxwuvv* vnv Ul tliu VY (UU1 }
and he walked right into the water, and
I followed, scarcely knowing what I was
doing, I was so frightened. He waded
in about knee deep, then he took Bessie
and putting her feet under one arm, he
put her little curly head down under
the water, she threw up her little white
hands and cried out, 'Oh, Willie,
take baby,' just as the curly head
went down. I waded around
father and tried with p11 my
strongth to raise her head out of the
water, but fatLcrheld it down. I begged
father to take her out, but he did not
listen to me: She threw up her hands
wildly, there was a gurgling aound, and
then all was still.' I begged father to
take her out, I prayed God to save Bessie's
life, but All in vain, God was far
away and did not hear me cry, at least
it seemed so to me. It seemed hours to
me, but father at last lifted up Bessio's
white dripping face. I called her name
frantically, madly, wildly, but her bluo
lip. didn't move; she was dead. Father
carried her and laid her down on the
green grass. 'I guess she won't be
hungry for awhile,' he said, as he laid her
down. I was so 3tunncd that I neither
moved or spoke, until I suw the blue
bells that I had twined in? Bessie's hair
6oating out on the water. I could not
bear to see them drift away; it
fleemed as if it was dear little Bessie1*
sweet, dead face drifting away ; I could
not bear the thought, so I waded ouK
after them \ the water was deep, and on
' * ' ' \ ' ' > ./ '
HnMnBHMUHK'. .
I went; It was up to my arm-pits, now
over my shoulders, still the blue bells
were just beyond my reach, but I must
have them; the water touched my chin,
i\nother step and I caught them, and
just as I did, I heard mother call :
'Willie! ohj Willie! where are you ?' 1
looked for father, he wns seated on the
ground by Bessie. 'Willie! oh, Willie!
came mother's voice again. I was out
of the water now, but so weak I could
scarcely stand. 'Bessie! oh, Bessie!1
I called. 'Here mother, at the pond.1
Father gave one mad leap into the water,
he plunged in face down. I was so terrified
I did not know what to do. 1
heard mother coming. I trembled so ]
could not walk, so I crawled up to Bessie,
and taking father's old straw hat,
put it over Bessie's dead face to keep
mother from seeing it. In a moment
she came in sight. She saw I was dripping
with water. '"Willie, Willie, what
is the matter?" I could not speak. She
lifted the hat off of Bessie's face. She
stood for a moment as if turned to stone.
'Tell me how it happened, Willie; tell
me quick.' Then I found voice and
told licr everything. She heard me
through without a word, but when I
had finished, shriek after shriek rent
the air. She stood with elasped hands
over Bessie, and shrieked such unearthly
cries that soon the neighborhood
flocked to the spot. Father had
drowned himself; his bod}* was taken
from under the beautiful wat<;r and
buried in the cemetery along side of
Bessie. Mother was a ravintr maniac
from the moment she uttered the tirst
heart-rending cry over her dead baby
Bess. I put the blue bells in a little
box. and hung them around my neck,
but after the funeral I lay in the hospital,
sick for weeks with brain fever,
but when I came to myself, the box was
still around my neck; here it is.'' and
he dnw from his bosom a small box,
which upon opening, revealed a fewwithered
leaves.
"They speak of sweet little baby Bessie,"
lie said, as he closed the box and
slipped it back under his shirt bosom.
Then he looked at nij straight in the
eyes and said:
JL'iense, mister, iton't ever vote for
whisky. It killed my father and dear
little babv Bessie, my only sister, and it
locked mother up in a mad-house.
Please don't vote for rum."
And I, man that I was, drew the bootblack
down and kissed him, and said:
"God helping me, I never will vote
for license or whisky men again."
THE LATE WAR.
Armed Force* That Took Part in thf*
L'onilirt-Carunt lliittir*.
In the four years teat followed the
uprising of the South the people of the
North furnished to the arn.ics of the
Union nearly 5J,000,000 of men. and the
South gave to the armies of the Confederacy
over 1,000,000 more. t< rom le.*s
than 22,000,000 of inhabitants, and
within the space of four years, 4,000.000
of men were under arms in that terrible
conflict. Contemplate the fad that one
in every eight of our entire population,
or one in every four of our main population,
was actually engaged in the contest,
and you get some idea of the terrible
drain that the war was on the i'esh
and blood of our countrymen'. In the
entire military history of the world there
is nothing to be compared to that martial
enthusiasm of our nation. The celebrated
uprising of the French people in
179?, and that of nearly a century later
in their war with Germany, sink into
insignificance when compared with the
tide that moved southward and northward
to join the armies of the Union and
Confederacy. It is the boast of Germany,
the greatest military nation of modern
times that with a population of4l, 000,000
she can in time of war furnish an army
of 1,250,000 men; but in the war of the
Rebellion the North, with a population
of only 23,000,000, had in actual service
at the close of that contest more than
1.000,000. The hero of Appomattox,
during the campaign of 180-1 and '03,
commanded more soldiers than any other
general since the fall of the Roman Empire.
We ,are accustomed to think of
Waterloo as the greatest battle of modern
times, but in six engagements of the
war of the rebellion the loss upon one
side or the other was greater than that
of Wellington and the allied forces at
Waterloo. The loss of the Union army
in the battle of the Wilderness nearly
equalled the entire losi of both armies
on the field of Waterloo. No battle has
ever been fought on the continent of
Europe with greater determination or
with as much loss as that of Gettysburg.
But the sacrifice of blood kept pace with
that of trensure. Our war expenses during
the last year of the Rebellion cxunit
nnn oa/i Tim ni-nnnum!
yw<?w?* <|>*|vvuj vvv^vuvi M ItV VA|FV<IOVC
of the great war between France and
England during the career of Napoleon
and the French Revolution bore no comparison
to that of our war. The greatest
sum of money expended during a
single year was by Great Britain in 1815,
when it amounted to $ 1511,000,000, or
less than two-thirds of the expenditure
of the North during the year ending
1865. * * * For half a century
"Waterloo hns stood in history, song,
and story without a parallel. It was reserved
to the descendants of the men
who fought undfer the Dukf* in that
famous engagement to convince the
world ihat courage and tenacity had not
degenerated since the days of Waterloo.
riftffmiktr -Tnioln o.?wl 4/v *1w?
lllil J IMli 1J UU OUl'l IU UU llii;
greatest battle of modern times. The
numbers engaged exceeded those of
Waterloo; the duration of the battle
longer, and the loss greater. More than
one-third of the Union army, and nearly
one-half of the Confederates, were killed,
wounded, or missing in that engagement.
The famous charge by Pickett
on the third day, and its subsequent re{)ulsc,
will live for all time in military
listory. The famous "Old Guard,"
veterans in me service ot r ranee, victors
on many a hard fought field, possessing
the courage and spirit peculiar to theii
nation and race, wavered before the
first volley from the English batteries at
Waterloo, and at the second fell back ir
confusion. But Pickett's division at
Gettysburg, with less men than composed
the "Old Guard,'' advanced a mile
under the galling fire of our batteries,
its lines unbroken, the living stepping
into the places of the dead, and engaged
our forces in a hand-to-hand fight for th<
possession of Cemetery Ridge.
*4 V \ ' ;rV s .> '''< ' '' '
* . ' .; * . '
Tthe mysteries^ a lay"
i
.STRANGE. CURIOUS AND 8TARTMNO
[ THINGS OCCURRING ABOUT US.
~ Tlic Ronmnrr of n Wedding?Had no Drcfta,
Cont?A Woman on Trial? Hog Cholera*
Etc.* Etc.
' A California letter says: Judge
' David S. Terry, senior counsel in the
divorce suit of Sarah Althea Hill agaiust
LI I t A *
oiiuron, ana to wnom sue was lately
married, bccamc associated with Sarah's
original counsel at a time when solid
backing for that side of the case was
greatly needed. Early in his connec?
tion with the case it was generally re;
marked that Terry took more than an
attorney's interest in the fair plaintiff.
, As the case progressed Sarah and Judge
i Terry entered and lett the court-room
i together. They were seen at the theatres
together, and otherwise comported
themselves rather as lovers than counsel
and client. These relations caused unpleasant
remarks, the source of which
was traced to Sharon's attorney and'
caused Judge Terry to endeavor to pro;
voke a quarrel and duel with Sharon's
principal attorney, Gen. Barnes. Since
the end of the trial in the Superior
Court Terry's wife has died. Then his
attentions to Miss Hill became more
marked than ever. Lately Sarah Althea
removed to Stockton, where Terry resides.
It was only a few days ago that
rumors of a marriage reached San
Francisco. The romance of the marriage
is this: In 1856 Judge Terry, then
Justice of the Supreme Court of California,
was imprisoned by a vigilance
committee for wounding an oftice. of
the committee who was trying to arrest
Judge Terry's friend. The Judge appealed
to Wm. Sharon to secure his release
from the vigilance committee
prison. Sharon retused. Judge Terry
vowed vengeance on Sharon, and the
first opportunity he had of wreaking it
occurred when Sarah sued for a divorce
from Sharon. Judire Torrv nntcred t.hn
suit to get even with Sharon, but was
captured by his client's charms and now
marries his'old enemy's alleged widow,
with a chance of recovering $2,500 a
month back alimony and $5,000,000 or
$'5,000,000 in money from Sharon's estate.
At a meeting of the Pathological Society
of Philadelphia, Dr. Formal presented
an analysis of 250 antopsies on
drunkards. He found that the most
prominent troubles caused by chronic
alcoholism were cyanotic induration of
the kidneys, fatty infiltration of the
liver, and mammillated stoma'eh. lie
thought that the exposure, irregularities
of diet, etc., incident to drunkenness
have as much to do with the maladies
as alcohol itself. The prevalent idea
that drunkards are apt to have "hobnail"
livers was not confirmed; in the
whole number of cases he found only
six of cirrhosis with contraction. In
220 cases the liver was enlarged owing
to fatty infiltration. The Doctor said
he had once "testified in court that a
certain person was not likely to have
been a hard drinker, because at the autopsy
no cirrhosis was found." But
this was before he had made the recent
220 autopsies. Dr. Musser thought that
cirrhosis* was caused not so much by
heavy drinking as by persistent drink- j
ing of spirits on an empty stomach.
The method pursued in removing obstructions
from the pneumatic tubes in
Paris is that of simply firing a pistol
into the tube. The resulting wave of
compressed air, traversing the tube at
the rate of 1,000 feet a second, strikes
the impediment, and is then deflected
I back to its origin, where it strikes
I ! i - J-11 x. 1 i *
ii^iuusi u uciiciiiu uiapnragm, its arrival
being recorded clcctrically upon a very
sensitive chronograph, on which, also,
the instant of firing the pistol has been
recorded previously. The -wave of
sound on reaching the diaphragm is re:
corded, and thence reflected back a second
time striking the obstacle, and returning
to the diaphragm. This operation
being several times repeated, several
successive measurements arc thus
made of the time required by the sound
wave to traverse to and fro within the
! mieumatic tube. Other means have
j been resorted to for the accomplishment
of the purpose in question, but none has
proved equal to this.
In New York six black horses dragging
a snow-melting machine started
toward Broadway, and aroused great
enthusiasm on their way through the
Seventh and Fourth wards. After trying
three or four hydrants, the machine
filled up with water at a hydrant that
was notrfro/.en. Then it knocked off its
smoke funnel against a couple of electric
light wires, which stretched across
Broadway between Cortlandt and Dey
streets. The funnel was hitched on
again and steam was got up in the big
tubular boiler. Then snow was shovelled
into the hot water and melted. One
machine, it is suid, will melt snojv as
fast as fifteen men can shovel snow in.
The President of the Snow Melting
Company says that two machines driven
along Broadway from the Battery to
Chamber street would clear off the snow
between daybreak and 9 a. m. To clear
the snow from tho whole of Broadway
eight machines would be required.
Illioitimacy is something wonderful
to contemplate in several of the Continental
nations of Europe. The proportion's
often one-fourth, and sometimes
even more, of the entire number of
births, as shown by the official record
of births, which are strictly kept and
tell the tale with infallable accuracy,
under a system of records which makes
marriages, births and deaths a matter of
civil record. The cause o^this social
. laxity is largely to be foi^Bun the severe
restrictions which Afflrrol the mar
riage contract and prevent marriages
1 against parental content, and in the fact
i that a property qualification is often
; necessary in order to become a. candi
date for matrimony.
: A vkry noticeable change has taken
place in the grass growth of the open
\ sheep plains of Australia since its civili*
zation. The grass originally grew in
large tussocks some distance apart, but
i now has assumed the appearance of a
1 sward, owing to its having stooled out
[ when fed upon by sheep and cattle, and
Trom the seed having been trampled in5
to the ground, where, in the absence of
bush fires, it germinated.
A woman was recently put on her
trial in France for strangling her baby,
and at the preliminary examination sh<j
confessed ner crime". At the trial
medical evidence was heard, and the
doctor told the Judge that he did not
believe the woman was the culprit. The
finger marks were fresh on the victim's
throat when he made the examination,
and the marks were singular. He examined
the woman's hands, and found
her fingers long, slender and wellshaped,
but the marks were of a short-'
lingered hand, stumpy and misshapen,
and one of the fingers, the first, was abnormally
short. On this the prisoner
hllPfif. infn fonro ooi/1 oV? n wo a f
v??wv au w wot u, UltiU OUV/ *?UO IVIIU VL till'
child, and had not destroyed it. and
mentioned in her excitement the real
culprit. He was a man of a better class
of life, with whom she had lived as a
domestic servant. His arrest followed,
and the doctor pointed out that the
prisoner's hands were formed as he had
described, and, moreover, that the first
finder was without a nail and almost deficient
of a joint. The jury convicted.
Mas. Fannie Garijison Vim,ard, the
wife of Henry Villard, was recently
asked by the Crown Princess of Germany
to take the part of an English barmaid
at a fancy fair in which that lady was
deeply interested. The Princess and
Mrs. Villard are on intimate terms, and
the former meant to offer her friend a
compliment by the invitation, not knowing
that the daughter of William Lloyd
Garrison, like her father and brothers,
is a total abstainer.' Mrs. Villard, although
conscious that requests from the
royal family arc considered commands,
declined the intended honor. She expressed
her cheerful willingness to aid
the fair, which was a charitable object,
but not in that way. The Princess, on
learning the American lady's feelings,'
apologised. Total abstinence in Berlin,
or any part of Germany, is so rare that
nobody is ever suspected of being its
advocate.
Hoa cholera was carefully studied
last summer by several pork raisers in
Kansas, where the disease raged part of
the time. One of them resorted to
"home treatment," asJic called it, and
he says it succeeded in bringing every
member of his infected herd around all
right. The mode of treatment he thus
describes: "As soon as the animals
were taken sick I turned them out of
the pens and began to drive them to
warm up their blood. The first day I
drove them three miles and the second
day two mileq. They would vomit
freely while being driven. After the
| second day they showed signs of improvement,
which continued, and finally
all the hogs recovered." An Abbyville
county (S. C.) farmer, whose hogs
have never been attacked by the dis:
case, attributes their immunity to a
quart of turpentine slops which he gave
them weekly.
Some interesting facts concerning the
relative vitality of males and females
arc shown in the forty-sixth annual report
of the English Registrar-General.
In each 1,000 living persons there are
4S7 males and 513 females; but .for
100 females 103..5 males were born. At
every age of life the death rate was
IrtWAr ill tho f*oirta 1 ou onrl fVin i^iflTA?n?AA
is greater in early years. In both sexes
a diminished death rate is taking place.
This is more marked in females Jthan in
males, at all ages. The improvement is
especially notable in women up to 45,
and in men to So. The mean expectation
of life of a male at birth is 41.85,
and of a female 44.02 years. The annual
expectation of illness is, counted
by days, nearly the same in both sexes.
And now comes a story about Mr.
Buck, the Iventucky man who was sent
to Peru as American Minister. One of
the naval officers on the west coast
writes home that he has been guilty of
appearing at an official dinner in a business
suit. The dinner was given in his
honor, and he was the only one of the
guvts who did not appear in evening
dress. It was afterwards disclosed that
i?ir. jduck uia noi nave sucn a mmg in
his wardrobe as a dress suit, and the
officer writes that he and others of the
Minister's friends have since succeeded
in finding one for him, so that further
criticism wiH be avoided.
Sixteen penetentiary convicts employed
in the mines at Cole Hill, in Arkansas,
affected their escape. They
tunnelled for a distance of thirty-five'
feet. The work was commenced at the
time of the strike, which occurrad three
weeks ago, and continued until the tunnel
was completed without the officials
discovering it. A search was made
through the mines for the purpose of
finding the passage, but it proved unsuccessful,
the convicts having so effectually
closed it behind them that not a
trace of it is left. Two of the men
have been recaptured. Bloodhounds
and a posse are in pursuit of the others.
Annie Watson, once a noted character
among the dissolute women of Philadelphia,
was buried* in Wilmington,
Del., whore she had lived in obscurity
for the past ten years. When she left
Philadelphia she was said to have been
possessed of over $50,000, but her estate
now is worth not more than $20,000.
Both in Philadelphia and in Wilmington
she became noted for her acts of
charity, dispensing her money with a
liberal hand among the deserving poor.
The woman had no relatives and was
followed to her grave by a single carriage.
Two boys, named Wise and Coon, captured
the son of one of the directors of
Miss Deppinp:'fl school, wect of Fond du
i t.? ,1 ,i : ?: ui? !_i. iv.
uaw) tt to. j nuu, uia^^ul^ lllUI 1uiu luc
entry, fastened a strong ropo around his
neck, threw the rope over an iron peg,
and pulled him up. The timely appearance
of the schoolma'am saved the boy
from serious injury, although his neck
plainly showed where the rope had
choked him.
Tite value of the general friangulation
of the country conducted by the
Coast Survey, in order , to afford accurate
base lines, may be estimated by the fact
that when the best maps of Kentucky,
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri
are plotted together 4he Mississippi and
Ohio Rivers become a series of irregular
lakes, without any connection, the local
outlines being too inaccurate to coincide.
v '
The quality of divination is the lbUllecUu*
element of altruistic faith.
1 " * v*"':"'' "
">: ,f\ .. ' V ' V
' i i ? ..
7 A JULES VERNE TALE.
j WILLIAM DOIIEKTY'H WUIT AHAINAT
A MTKAMHIIIl* COMPANY FOlt
! s.io.ooo.
i - t?
Hp Hnyn that T?to Men Tried to Kill
Him, When He Jumped Overboard,
iSwain Fight and Wulfceit Two Ilun<
dred miles* Only to Find thut His Wife
had Mnrrled Atfnln.
[From the N. Y. World.]
The Superior Court, of New York
city, will soon be called upon to listen
to a story of. the most pronounced Jules
Verne order,, and when the ease of William
Doherty against the Pacific Mail
Steamship Com party is called the plaintiff
will astonish the Court by a wonderful
tale of hairbreadth escape and nar- ?.
row victory with life after mauv close
chances with death. The story as told
by "William Doherty in- tho affidavits already
put on file is, that on May 5, of
last year, the plaintiff, who was in Panama,
asked for and was appointed to
the position ' of assistant engineer on
the Pacific Mail Steamship Company's
steamer Honduras, bound from that port
for various stopping places down the
western South American coast.
The crew was a mixed one of Spaniards,
Mexicans and Ruch. Among the
company was a Portuguese, known as
Ramon, who, as an oiler, regarded himself
as the heir to the position taken by
Doherty, and hated the new-comer as an *
interloper. The steamer had been only
five days from port when Dohertv savs
1... 1 l *
uu u%u!iiua'i ti i;u'.>ui9?iiviii ut'iniruu mil*
Ramon and a Spanish passenger, in
which it was determined that the Northerner
should be dirked and then throwh
overboard.
From' that time Doherty dared not
sleep in his berth at night, lest the
treacherous Portuguese thrust the "dagger
into his breast. He caught sleep Vis
he could standing at his post, and several
times he thought he detected his ?
foe crawling upon him in the darkness.
He says he was compelled to literally
dodge for his life every time his enemy
or enemies came near, for both Ramon
and the Spanish passenger were watching
him. When he could endure it 110
longer Doherty appealed to Alfred Pardee,
the chief engineer, and was greeted
with a round of laughter, and he was
advised to jump into the water if he did
not care to remain aboard ship.
He made such provisions as lie could
to die fighting, wrote several letters to
wife and friends, which he directed and
left aboard ship, only to learn subsequently
that they had been thrown over- '
board, and thfen waited with such fortitude
as he could summon for the attack ?
of the assassins. It came on the night
of May 21, when the ship lay eight miles
off the port of San Jose de Guatemala
and Doherty was on the deck watch.
The night was densely black and the
hunted engineer felt that the occasion
fitted for'the bloody work bis foes had
determined upon. He saj's he heard a
light tread near him as he stood watching
and then came the rush of the two
murderers. Doherty drew his own knife
and fought with desperation for his life, '
but the odds were enormously against
him, and when he was forced to the vessel's
side he suddenly turned and plunged
overboard, to take the faint flicker
of a chance by swimming to the shore.
The water there is crowded with
sharks, and the faint engineer was in no
condition for such a long swim. What
gave him nerve and vigor was the
thought of wife and babies away off in
New York waiting and praying for his
return. He slipped out of much of his
clothes^as he drifted by the vessel's side
UUU II1UKI HIU11UU 1M1U1CWU1U9.
All night long he alternately breasted
the long swell and floated resting and
panting on his back. Daylight .came
and. he was still in the water, but the
shore a little over a mile away gave him
encouragement, and he soon was able to
stagger, half unconscious up the sandy
beacn, only to drop in a faint above /
high-water mark. It was not until noon
that he awoke and looked for aid. He
took employment with farmers, and
when a measure of his strength had returned
struck out for a long tramp of
nearly two hundred miles across the
republic to a small seaport named Livingstone,
whence he worked his way
homeward, and then when, in March
lost, he reached New York, it was only
to find that his ?ife, reiving upon the
reports that he had jumped Overboard,
had married again.
He asked for some sort of recompense
from the Pacific Mail Steamship *COmSany,
but was confronted with his own
oath certificate as proof that he had no
claim, and then, brokefl down in health
by his sufferings, he listened to the advice
of friends and instituted a suit for
$30,000, claiming that when he entered
the service of the company he was, entitled
to protection, which,#when he applied
to the chief engineer, was not
giyen him.
Two Telltale Fences in Maine.
, The ruins of a fence'running across a *
graveyard arC the relics of a fierce theological
controversy in an Androscoggin
town. The war was waged 40 or '50
years ago, and every ablebodicd man in
town was drawn into it. It gave rise to
feuds between old friends and neighbors,
and stirred up strife in families. Tbo '
bitterness not only invaded the ^homc,
the shop, the store, the lawyer's office,
the doctor's den, tho church, and the
parsonage, but actually got into the , -Jl
cemetery. A fonce was built across it
to separate the graves of one denomination
from those of members of othor
churches, as if the dead folks wcro na
much interested in the fight as anybody
and their might be serious trouble if
their bones ana ashes were not divided. '
Another singular fence waa observed by
a party of us driving through a town in
SagadnliocJ County a short time ago.
This fence divided the walk leading (6
the front door of a neat houso.' The
fence run plump up to<the door fever tho
steps, vine man who omit mat fence \ "g;
owns half of the house and a woman
owns the other half/' said a friend,
| "He wishes to,buy her half and she will
! not sell it. He Is mad about it and has
cut the property in two a* literally M h$
can. He hoa .extended the fence' idea
by building a wnU in the front "siury, ,
which cuts his h?lf %>e women's
half."