The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, November 29, 1883, Image 1
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■' y —
' 2. Buaicen letter* and communloc;
Ilona to be puYiah >d «h >ul 1 be written
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elearlj indicated by neoeaeary note when
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S. Articlea for publication ahould be
Written in a clear, legible hand, and on
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4, All changea in adrertiaemeat! mu it
each na on Frlady.
VOL. VII. NO. 13. BARNWELL, C. H., S. C., fc THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1883.
$2 a Year.
aaioatioa #ttl be pwbtarikjd
panlad by the naaaa end n4«
draaa of the writer, not neeoawitty far
publication, bat nan goarantyof good
A Jdreaa, T JE PEOPLE,
Barnwell O. H. 8. O.
BILL MASON’S BRIDE.
Half an Lour till train time, tlr,
— An’ a fearfnl dirkUme, too;
v Take a look at the Hwitch-ligbU,
Fetch in a utiek when vou go thraugh,
“On time?" Well,yea, I gncu «o —
Left the lait station all right—
She’ll come round the purye a <iy' n ’;
'Bill lla’sori oomcK up to-night.
Yon know Bill? No! He'» an engineer;
Been on the road all hie life—
I'll never forget the morning
He married his chnck of a wife.
'Twa* the itimmcr the mill hands struck—
^ Just off work, every one;
They kicked no a row tn the village, .
s And killed old Donovan’s son.
- Bill hadn't been married more'n an hour,
Up comes the message from Kress,’-
Orderin’ Bill to go up there
And bring down the night express. ’
He left his gal in a hurry, '
And went on number one,
Thinking of nothing but Mary
And the train he had to run. , , »
And Mary rat down by the window
To wait for the night express;
And, sir, if she hadn't 'a ' done so,
She’d been a widow, I guess.
For it must ’a’ Isien nigh midnight
When the mill hands left the Ridge—
They came down, the drunken devils!
Tore a rail from the bridge.
But Mary heard ’em a-workin',
And guessed there was something wrong,
And in less than fifteen minutes,
Bill's train it would be along.
She couldn't come here to tell ns,
A Utile—it wouldn't 'a' done—
So she jest grabbed up a lantern
' Then Sown came
And BUI was matin’ her climb!
But Mary held the lantern,
A-swinging it all the time.
Well, by Jove ! Bill saw the signal,
And lie stopped the night express,
And he found his Mary cry in’.
On the tra'-k, in. her weddin' dress—
Cryin’ and laughin' for joy. sir,
An' boldin' on to the light—
Hello! here’s the tiam—good-by, sir,
Bill Mason’s on time to n : gbt.
Burra Hahte.
And jn.de for % b.. Ige -ttltA. .
> the m^tif rttprtHH, tn —
rim LILY OF THE GLEN.
lu one of the most beautiful of New
England’s ehady dells, far away from
the din and dust of the city, musical
with the song of brooklet and bird, and
fragrant with breathings of frees and
flowers, hidden almost out of sight By
the old gray mountains, lies the fair lit
tle village of Olen. And in one of its
sunniest spots, sheltered by elms of a
century’s growth, mossy itself with un
counted years, over-mn with luxuriant
vines and embosomed in roses, stands
the fairy Jittlj cottage where dwelt the
pride of the village—its fa’r young Lily
—an orphan from the hour of her birth,
hut so loved by her aged grandparent?
that the name had never a meaning.
Beautiful os the flower whose name
she bore was the Lily of the Glen, and
ns holy and shrinking in nature, too,
—breathing out her sweetness in lonely
places, and coveting ever the lonely seat.
Scarce more was she idolized in the hum
ble home whose life and light and beanty
she was, than in evegr other one of the
scattered village; for wherever she went
she carried a blessing, and from every
threshold bore one, too, now from the
crowing lips of a baby face, and then
from the quivering ones of wrinkled age.
Pure in heart, not dnzzlingly bnt softly
brilliant in intellect, gentle and loving,
for eighteen years the maiden had led
that happy life which only the good and
trne can know—a snnny life, scarcely
darkened by a single cloud—a flowery
one, scarcely pricked by a single thorn—
a holy one, scarcely touched by a single
sin.
But her heart was saddened th#n.
First one and then the other aged rela
tive grew sick, and for many weeks they
lay side by side on the same couch,
moaning in feverish dreams. Patiently
and tenderly did the young grandchild
nurse them, heeding their slightest
wish, and giving np cheerily the de-
mands of her poise, that she might be
ever with them, and striving with all
love's earnestness to win them back from
he valley whose shades seemed vailing
them. And even in the last fearful hour,
though her heart was sore and bleeding,
she calmed herself and ruing in sweet,
though tremulous strains, the hymn they
asked for, that on the 4>reath of music
tluir souls might be wafted into heaven.
..l^But then, when all was over, her
strength gave way, and for weeks she lay
like a frost-bitten flower; her cheeks like
■now and her lips voicclss. Yet, though
alone in the world ihen, never had an
invalid kinder and more considerate
care. There was none in the whole vil
lage that did not render her some ser
vice, happy to pay back a debt of love,
and sad that it most be paid in snch a
way. And when at length she recov
ered, and on the arm of the gray-haired
pastor, slowly passed np the aisle of the
Httls chnrch to the seat that had been
vacant for nearly a year, there went np
from every heart a thanksgiving to the
Father in Heaven, and when her sweet,
lute like vole# rose and fell in waves of
thrilling melody, as ahe joined in the
grand old hymn, tears of joy streamed
fast from many eyes, and when the ser
vice was over, and the little group
passed out of the holy place, every right
— hand was kindly clasped by her, and
from every Up there feU a blessing.
Bat cue among them did not greet
her, though hia gase followed her intently
from the moment ahe entered till she
left. It wee a stranger, a tourist, who,
w bsw»u»d by the rural beanty of the glen,
had rsaol ve^ aa the stage left Aig) there
on Saturday evening, to spend a few
days in nupblmg about in sunny spot*
and sketching ite piotureeqoe riven; a
Wghly^tftkd, nobis young men, dow
. m* via • MW* *k°i w*
ing completed his collegiate course, bad
nought to do but while away his time in
the most agreeable way. But, now,
surfeited with the pleisares of fashiona
ble life, he had tnrued away to seek in
communion with Nature and her true
hearted children that congeniality for
which his spirit had longed bnt hod not
found, either in his aristocratic homo or
his wealthy friends.
His mother had lieen one of those spirit
ually organized beings to whom holinos
of life and devotion to dnty are ns necessi
tous ns breath, and thongh spared to
him bnt seven brief years, she so in-
wrought her nature into Ins that all the
unfortunate circumstances of later years
could not eradicate it—the angel sung
so sweetly in the far deptha of his bosom
that the syren voices of temptation
sounded to him ever like hideous dis
cords.
Tlie proud lady who, ere two years
had left their greenness on his mother’s
grave, was installed as mistress of her
home, gave no affection to the dining
boy, while his father, a stem, grave,
taciturn man, thongh deep in his heart
there welled strong waves of passionate
feeling, manifested them only by seeing
that his temporal condition was well
tilled with affectionate yearnings, but
with none to breathe them npou, and
only uttering them upon the low grassy
meund where slept the jjeutle being
who had given him life.
Once indeed his spirit thought it had
found its mate. There flitted iiito the
brilliant saloons of fashion a radiant
young creature, wdio seemed the incar
nation of a poet's dream, and whose
spell soon bound the youthful Reuben.
Bnt ere many mouths the charm was
broken. She proved but a gay coquette,
and after toying with many hearts, dual
ly surrendered to wrinkled age, barter
mg herself for gold. Reuben had be
lieved he loved her, but when the dream
was so rudely broken, he found his heart
was fetterless—he had lovednot her, bnt
the creation of his own soul who he had
fancied was embodied there. For a time
indeed he scorned the other sex, but ere
long the vision of his own sweet mother
came to him in such vivid light, that In
felt he stained himself with sin to.thin!
even harshly of those to whom she was
bound by the ties of sisterhood, and In
said within himself, “I will seek hri
counterpart; and finding it, bo happy.’
So Lord Burleigh-like, he w’ont about a-
i traveling artist, and in the wild oi
beautiful of nature, as chanced ttv.
scene, his spirit drank in peace, and. the
angel in his heart sang dearer and more
thrillingly.
Such was he who, in the IHtlo chnrch
of Glen, had watched so closely its frail
Lily. Her loveliness, ever bewitchingly
delicate, was enhanced by thh paleness
of convalescence, and she seemed to the
yonng man like one of those sainted
ones of whom he used to dream when
in Ukboyish aorrow Jie nestled on the jM»d fQK~lha. -stranger who worshiped
couch where his mother’s spirit had de
parted. There was no guile, he felt, in
thoee heavenly eyes, no mocking taunt
would ever sing from lips like hers—nay,
there was a purity of soul visible in her
very mien. ^
“Who is she?" asked.he, as he walked
lome with the inn keeper; “who is that
air‘young creature who seems the
adopted child of the church ? She walk*
'>eforo us with the old pastor.”
“She has another name, but we only
call her Lily or the Lily of the Glen, a
lomeless girl now, without a relative on
earth, and yet ehe will-aover -wauA for
anything, for, humble as we are, we will
ever make room for her by our hearths
and in our hearts, for she is an angel
whom we cannot entertain without a
blessing!”
The yonng man shut himself in his
room and mused upon her. In his wild
est dreams he had fancied nothing earth
ly so ethereal, and he felt that could he
but clasp that fragile Lily to his heait
its. low murmuring moans would be
hushed forever.
The sunset flooded the Glen with bril
liancy as he stole forth again, and long
ing for silent communion with the human
floweret who had entranced his sonl, he
turned from the. pleasant village street
and foll^ed the banks of a little stream
that want singing along as though each
wave was a melody. Whither it led he
knew not, but keeping the worn path he
found himself ere long oppoeite a little
grave-yard, whose monuments had noth
ing to arrest attention, but whose quiet
beauty entranced one at a glance. Reu
ben leaned with folded hands on the
white stile and was soon lost in fresh
thought Memory carried him back to
the day. hia mother died, and he saw
himself again in childish grief, bending,
half in wonder, half in awe, over the
open grave, and then kissing a white
rose-bud from a neighboring bush and
casting it on to the coffin, and then he
thought of the after visits he had paid it
when it was green and flowery, and remem
tiered how many times he had wished he
could have slept beside her. Tears
streamed down hia cheeks aa he leaned
there; those holy tears which come un
bidden to WMh the heart of the dust
that has gathered on its beauty.
Suddenly ha started. A low, sw$et
and to hia highly-wrought feelings it
•ttmad at flrot like the angel voice o
Usr he mourned. But be toon rallies
mg Rfttnirt oMti (Miotniod
that it came from a locust grove in a
iliittttit corner of the yard, and he felt
Thfnitively that it WM the night hymn
of the Lily sung over the grave of her’
buried loves.
He forbore to disturb the solemnity
of the spot by seeking the acquaintance
ho desired, and so he turned from the
stile, and passing on, thtew himself on
a bank of violets beside the stream, and
was soon lost in delicious revery.
“A beautiful spring night, sir,” said
n mild voice soon, and shirting np the
young man found himself face to face
with the aged pastor, on whose ami
leaned the fair yonng mourner.
“You are a stranger, sir, I take it,
here. I noticed you in chnrch, and I
should have spoken to yon there, but I
had no. chance. We are plain, simple
people here, but mean to do our duty,
and if while you tarry T can be of ser
vice, you may command Epe. ’’
It was a courteous greeting, not so
much in words as in the fatherly man
ner of the gray-haired man, and Reulien
offered his hand warmly and expressed
his thanks for the kindneM, and os be
walked back to the village with them,
charmed them with his high-toned
thoughts, and the three were each re
gretful when the pastor’s gate wu*
reached. '**«*?'......
. “Let ns see yon here to-morrow,”
said he, as ho led the Lily in, for she
flits his dove-like blessing, “or to-night,
even, if apart from home, a family altar
should be longed for.”
“I have longed for it since my mother
died,” said the young man with a touch
ing pathos.
Come with us then, sir. We have
few forms, bnt wc trust our hearts are
n'feht;” and he ushered Reulien into the
little study, and for a while they sat
here in the calm moonlight, not con
versing with each other, but uttering as
they chanced, the holy thoughts which
l>egged for an expression.
At an early hour an aged female do
mestic entered with lights, and drew a
stand to the pastor’s side. He turned
over the leaves of the family Bible till
he had selected a chapter, and then
passed it tb the young man, saying:
“My eyes grow dim; let me borrow
yonrs ”
Iteubcn took the holy volume rever
ently, and rend in clear, thrilling tones,
those glorious passages from St. John,
commencing: “Let not your heart Ik?
troubled.” When he had closed, the
pastor turned to Lily for the hymn. It
quivered on her lips, but the sacred
emotions of her heart were too powerful
for her weakened frame, and the words
jung there in uttered music. Reuben’s
keen ear had caught the strain, though,
and his rich voice harmonized fully with
the lofty words as he sung it through.
Then the aged man bent his knee and
prayed. . And while he took in the
whole world in his petition, he yet
pleaded earnestly and individually for the
gentle girl he hod taken to his heart.
shall be spared to stand beside yon when
yon first preach to tftem, and then I shall
be content to go. Como, let us begin.”
^And from that day Reuben was an in
mate of the parsonage, and that he pros
pered fast was no wonder either, for he
had, os he said, an angel and a saint for
guardians. There were scornful looks
and haughty words in his aristocratic
home, when his proud relatives heard
that the heir of their princely wealth
had turned student of divinity, and
would settle in an obscure village, and
there was much wonder among his fash
ionable friends. But notliing oould win
the young man from his holy vows, and
night after night till the stars waned
did he lean over his desk, that he might
the sooner l>e prepared for the pastor’s
place, his only recreation being Ids
walks and talks with the gentle Lily.
Two years from the day he first en
tered the little chnrch as a stranger to
all, he was solemnly set apart to hv
holy work, the aged pastor's trembling
hands being placed upon Ida head, as
with quivering lips he ordained him a
Christian minister; and the same low,
lute-like voice that entranced him then,
sang now the hymn that Confirmed the
rite.
At sunset, tho holy Sabbath sunset,
the little chnrch again was Jilted,
for bolero the altar stood the youthful
pastor to take a new vow to his heait,
wne that bade liim “love and cherish till
death did them port,” the gentle being
who unconsciously had woke his sonl to
the sublimer view of life—a vow that,
while it changed the “girlish thing” to
a pastor’s bride, yet left her, as she was
before, the Lily of the Glen.
- Dead Reckoning.
AT THE END OF A WAR.
Trick PUjtmI by I he Hriitah whe» They
were l.emvin* ihla Caaalry.
with them, and, snbdned as his human
feelings were, the young man was yet
conscious ef a sudden thrill of joy when
ho heard himself thus coupled in solemn
prayer with the beauteous Lily.
Only snatches of sleep came to him
that night; most of it was spent in
revery. And when he went out on the
ensuing morning, life wore a changed
look to him. It had put on a majesty
that awed him, and yet that roused him
to sublimer views. The divinity within
him was aroused, not partially, but
thoroughly, and he - resolved to ,heed
wdfritw «ttm*tve suggestions. He
sought out the aged pastor and revealed
to him his previous life, its longings, its
;spirations, its unquietness, and his last
resolve, to seek him out a bride who
should give beanty and bliss to life.
When 'I saw Lily yesterday,” said
(to, “the poet’s charming story came
vividly to mind, and I resolved to woo
her ns did the lord of the tale, in paint-
r's dross, and bear her to a princely
home when she expected but an humble
Lientenant Brown was the navigator
of the brig Perry of the United Statco
navy a good many years ago, and on n
passage from China to Mexico ho al
lowed the chronometers (by which they
found the longitude) to run down. They
wore bound to San Bias, and running to
make Cape St. Lucas, which is high and
can be seen a long way off. The cap
tain, Jot Stone Paine, was not told that
the chronometers had run down and that
they were depending on dead reckoning
for the longitude. Brown got on the
parallel of the cape, and steering due
east kept a good look-out ahead. He
kept a foretopman at the masthead with
orders to come down and tell him quietly
when he saw the laud, and-not other
wise to announce it—promising him a
I>ottle of whisky in return. Accordingly
one day shortly .before 12 o’clock the
foretopman came down and reported the
land in sight from aloft. Ho was told
by Brown to return to the masthead, one
when the bell struck one to report it in
I bo usual manner. A little after 12
o’clock the captain came out of the
cabin and said: -“Well, Mr. Brown,
when do yon think we will see land ?”
“We will make the land, sir,” said
Brown, “at half-past 12 o’clock,” (opp
“We will, eh?” said the captain.
“Yes, sir,” replied Brown, in his most
pompous manner, “at half-past 12 pre
cisely.”
Just then the l>ell struck, and the
man at the masthead roared out in o
stentorian voice, “Land hot” ~
“By George,” said Captain Jot,
“that’s the-most remarkable landfall I
ever made !” and he afterward told the
first lientenant that he considered
Brown one of the most skillful navigators
lie had ever met. “
A never-to-be-forgotten incident oc
curred when the American column,
headed by General Washington and
Governor Clinton, approached the Bat
tery as the British army left it, at the
close of the Revolntionory War. Lieu
tenant Glean had l>een ordered by Com
modore Grinnel to raise the American
standard on the staff where the Eughsh
ensign had been heretofore flying. The
evening before the British had unreeved
the halyards, broke off the stepping
cleats, and slushid the flagstaff. The
flagstaff stood on Fort George, at the
north end or bastion, close to the Bat
tery. Several men tried to climb the
staff, which was as slippery os iec, but
in vain. A young sailor boy named Van
Arsdale made thrqe attempts, got up
al>ont three feet and slipped down again.
Then several persons ran to Goclet’s
hardware store on Hanover square and
gov a handsaw, hatchet, gimlet and nails.
One sawed lengths across a board, one
split the cleats and another bored them
until there was plenty to use. The sailor
boy tied the halyard around his waist,
filled his-outside injckcts full of dcats-
aml then began at the ground to nail
them in on the right and left Of the flag
staff. As he ascended higher he nailed
the cleats on, and then, reaching the
top, he rove the halyards and descended.
The flag was immediately run np, amid
a salute of thirteen gnns and three thun
dering cheers from the multitude assem
bled. The time speut in preparing to
hoist the flag was a period of intense
interest and suspense. The English
vessels were moving down the bay and
spreading their canvas to the wind, and
it was passionately desired to let them
seO the American-standard waving over
the city before they left. The sailor boy
was given a more substantial token of
approval than more applause*, those
present, from General Washington down
to the plainest citizen, cheerfully con
tributing to a collection for his benefit.
The son of the sailor boy David Van
Arsdale is now a night inspector in the
Barge Olfioe in New York.
Another incident, related by an eye
witness of the scoae, may serve to illus
trate the reluctance with which the
British quitted their hold of flic city
which they had so long claimed ns their
own. By the conditions agreed upon
the city was to be surrendered at noon,
but an impatient shopkeeper in the
neighborhood of Chambers street an
ticipated the arrangement and hoisted
the American flag dnring the course of
thp morning. Provost Marshal Cun
ningham hastened to the spoUftmT con
fronted the proprietor. ‘‘Poll down
that flog,” he exclaimed, with an oath^
“the city belongs to the British till
noon.” The man objected, hesitated,
and was on the point of yielding, when
the good woman of the house came to
BILL IfTE, EX-POSTBANTER.
H« -Maereaafnllv Areaaata lar iba Praa-
trmtlaa la I Hah Uavarawaal Clrrlca.
interview
Bill Nye
at
down,” said she. Cunningham stormed
and swore, and finally attempted to tear
down the colors with his own hands; but
the woman assailed him so vigorously
with a broomstick, striking a cloud of
powder from his wig at every blow, that
he wan forced at last to abandon the field
i and leave the American flag unmolested.
In the course of an
Laramie the other day
asked:
“Yon are still Postmaster here, are
yon not ?”
“Yes, the jig will soon be np or words
to that effect. My resignation ha* gone
in to Washington. It created a great
deal of excitement therealionta. Per
haps yon’ve noticed that all the dis
patches sent out from the national capi
tal the last few days have a dreary, list
less, fnueral-at-2-o'clock air about them,
as though there was something wrong at
headquarters. My resignation has
brought this about. I tell yon candidly
things are looking pretty blue there just
now. Old Greash, the Postmaster-Gen
eral, yon know, telegraphed to me as
soon as he received my little note. He
says: ' Reconsider your resignation. I
beg of you, Billy, don’t go.’ . I answered
the telegram, telling him it, was a ground
hog case—I had to go. Then Frank-
Frank Hatton—Frank he wired me:
‘For the sake of old love, don’t shake ns
now. The mail service won’t rank any
higher Ilian our navy 11 yon leave it.
(lanaei resignation at onee. ’ T replied
that I haled to refuse, but couldn’t help
myself; like the pig-tailed persimmons I
must go. Then Chet, he telegraphed
me. His message was as long as hia trip
across Wyoming to the ftark. He said
he felt os thongh throe feet or fonr cogs
in the wheels of government had broken,
and that unless I consented to come
back into the fold he feared the blamed
old machiae wouldn't run much longer.
I tell you honestly I was so affected by
his message that I shed a few weeps be
fore I could muster up spirit to answer
it. I told him that I was sorry, bnt mnst
insist on my resignation being accepted.
I told him, however, that if he really
needed my assistance I might take the
(Mtsition of Postmaster at New York city,
and here I paused for a reply. I have
paused ever since.”
“Who will succeed you here?”
“Well, that’s a hard question to an
swer. As near as I can learn, about
every man in town, except one, has ap
plied for the position. The one man
that I refer to is in jail charged with the
abduction of a youthful and innocent
mule. I believe, liowever, that he also
wrote out an application, but that the
jailer suppressed it I am very busy
just now with my new l>ook. I’ve con
cluded to try one more dose bf my medi
cine on the dear people. It’s pretty
tough—on the people—I’ll admit, bnt I
don’t seem to mind it mneh. I believe
a man gets hard-hearted as he grow*
older; don’t you?”
A TEMPERANCE LECTURE.
A Pluto to Ik* Mum-KIHi flak HIvm
far a Tmauraaea l^rtar*.
In opening the meeting Brother Gard
ner announced that the Hon. Half-Sheli
Snyder, of Nashville, Venn., was in the
ante-room waiting to deliver a lectura aa
the anbject, “The progroaaion at Man.”
The honorable reached Detroit owl at
money, hungry, hatieee and almost dis
couraged. The President had boarded
him tor three days, lent him a shirt and
other garments, and hoped to be repaid
by listening to an interesting lecture
upon a subject in which be had always
taken a deep interest.
The committee then proceeded to the
ante-room and brought in the celebrated
orator. It was noticed as 1m entered
the door that hia face had a wild look
and that his knees wobbled, bat be
reached the platform in pretty fair shapei
Brother Gardner had stepped forward
to receive and introduce him, when the
Hon, Half-Shell suddenly wilted to the
floor and his eyre began to roll like fish-
balla flying around a circus ring. It
was then discovered that he was over
came i,y the effects of whisky. Indeed,
the odor could tic scouted •H’lWflPYhc
room, and Samuel Shin was jnst mean
Fnough to kfltff twice <b aiiy other man’s
once, in order to get all he could withont
pay. When it was apparent that the
orator waa oveicome the President
looked down npen him snd said:
“Any fnle kin get drank, bat it takes
s man to keep sober. Ax dia man in
his sober hoars to pui his foot agin a hot
stove or to ont his Angers wid a knife
an’ he wottld call yon crazy, bat he cool
ly an’ deliberately poroecds to do wnss.
He pours staff inter bis stomach to re
duce himself to de level of s brats or
lower. 1 can’t strip him of ds close I
lent him, an’ de food he has eaten at my
table has gone to make fat on bis ribs.
Howsnmeber, in his departur’ from dia
locality he should be made to realise dai
we know an insult when we aee one, an’
kin properly resent it. Brudders Btepoff,
Jones, an’ L. Nelson Blabs will escort de
celebrated orator down stain an’ gin him
an appropriate send-off”
The order +as obeyed with great
alacrity, and how well it was carried oat
may be inferred from the fact that next
morning the boys picked np pieces of
pantaloon cloth and several buttons and
hackles on the other aide of the ten-foot
fence in front of the entrance door.—
Detroit Free Fret.
SOMETHING ABOUT CHESTNUTS.
Wsr—i CfeMtMt
The Great Aagast Sea Wave.
A letter from Panama shows that the
great tidal wave caused by the Java
earthquake waa propagated to the Pa
cific coast of Bonth America, At Taloa-
huano, Chile the ocean rose on August
r.—“The flag shalhuot conttr two feet above bigtv waits mark,
and the day after earthquakes were felt
A Long Game.
One Hundred \ears Ago.
It was the 25th of November, 1783—
a brilliant day, that an excited crowd
surged and shouted About Mr. Day’s
tavern in Murray street, near the road
to Greenwich. Cnnningham, the cruel
and vindictive British provost-marshal,
stood at the foot of the flag-pole, irom
which floated the stars and stripes, the
flag of the new republic.
“Come, you rebel cur,” he said to Mr
cottage. But better thoughts have been P a . v > “I give you two minutes to haul
down that rag—I’ll have no such striped
faces of His
awakened in me. I would still win her.
if I can, but not to lead her into fash
ion’s balls. They are not the place for
one so spiritual as she. Home is the
sphere for one like her, and I would win
her to a home with me, in this or some
other shady glen, and Keep her my Lily
through my life.
“And this is not all, sir. I would learn
of you a pastor’s duties. My life thus
far has been an aimless one. I need not
work, for I have wealth at my command,
bnt I would consecrate myself to some
thing. My spirit has ever chafed at the
fetters I have thrown atxmt it. I will
untangle it, and let it have its will. And
at your feet, sir, I would study earnest
ly, faithfully, and pray that yoar lips
may ask God’s blessing on me as I some
where kneel before my chosen people.”
“My son,” said the old man, solemnly,
“you have chosen well Heaven hath
directed you here as a guardian for Lily
and a student for me. These fifty years
I have ministered here. I knew my
strength was failing and my aenaea grow
ing dim, bnt I could not bear to leave
my people with one who aerved their
Master from other than the holiest mo
tives, and so, tremulously I have per
formed nay duties for a year or more.
4 train flitted by . on the evening breeze," ~fi p y son, yon shall commence this dsy
your studies. Yon are well trained and
learned, sod your heart i* right. It wifi
not taka you long to fit youtsell to spank
to thaaa lirrple, truthful Christians, I
W w ^vwwT NywrTWvT^^^v T
clout as that flying in the ftifces of
Majesty’s forces 1” *
“There it is, and there it shall stay,”
said Day, quietly but firmly.
Cnnningham turned to his gnard.
“Arrest that man,” he ordered. “And
as for this thing here I’ll haul it down
myself,” and, seizing the halyards, he
l>egan to lower the flag. The crowd
broke out into fleroe murmnrs, uncer
tain what to do. Bnt, intho midst ot
the tumult, the door of the tavern flew
open, and forth sallied Mrs. Day, armed
with her trusty broom.
“Hands off that flag, you villain, and
drop my husband 1” ahe cried, and be
fore the astonished Cunningham oould
realize the situation, the broom came
down thwack! thwack! upon his pow
dered wig. Old men still lived, not
twenty years ago, who were boys in that
excited crowd, and remembered how the
powder flew from the stifTwhite wig, and
how, amidst jeers and laughter, the 4 de-
feated provost-marshal withdrew from
the unequal contest, and fled beforc the
resistless sweep of Mrs. Day’s all-con
quering broom.—St. Nic/tolaa for No
vember.
A singular game of chcsa has jnst'
lieen finished in the north of Scotland.
The game was began aboat twelve
months ago in the city of Brooklyn, N. Y.
The first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz, made
a move, and then passed the scoring
sheet on by post to a friend. That
friend made a move in reply, and then
passed the paper on by post to another
well-known player, who made a move
in continuation. In this way the docu
ment fonnd its way to Baltimore, Md.,
where Mr. Bellman, who played lately
in the Londdn tournament, added a
move and sent the paper on to Jamaica,
N. Y. From Jamaica it was sent to
England, and, after passing through
the hands of well-known players in Lon
don and other towns, who each added a
move, it began a tonr among the chess
players of Scotland. After traveling as
far north as Dallwillington, the docu
ment was sent back to Sheriff Spcns of
Glasgow. That gentleman examined
the poeition, and decided that the game
was lost for white, as black could force
an exchange of rooks and win with the
pawns. He therefore returned the game
to the first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz,
who now sent it, to London to be pub
lished as a curiosity in the Che«* Month
ly, where it has jnst appeared. The
scoring sheet beam the signatures of
several players, who each made a move
in the game, and the document shows
that it passed from hand to hand through
thirty-two towns and cities of England,
Scotland and America.
-A Wmmva.—The Indianapolis po
lice were told that a man was whipping
his wife in a tenement block near the
heart of the city; bnt instead they fonnd
the wife, arrayed in only one garment,
oowhiding her husband. He was ones
Superintendent of the State Institute in
Ohio. Lately he had been reduced by
drink, until bis wife had to support her
self. She told the officers that the doc
tor had reached hone drank, and that,
m Salvador, Colombia and Eenadpr.
Alarming detonations about the same
time were heard in all the towns of the
Bogota plateau, while at Manabi, Ecua
dor, troops were tamed oat ready to
meet the supposed enemy.
This record will enable seismologists
to ascertain the extent of the distur-
bance caused by the Java earthquake.
Almost simultaneously with the Andean
earth shocks and the Chilean ti
dal wave the ocean roae on
the California coast, as reported
by Professor Davidson on Au
gust 29. In the West Indies an extra
ordinary tide rose in the harbor of 8L
Thomas at half-past seven p. m., Au
gust "27. As the tides at St. Thomas
seldom go alxrve twelve inehm, and
that of August 27 roae three and a half
feet and was followed on the 30th by a
heavy earthquake shock, there can be
little donbt that this disturbance was
the result of the terrible commotion
in the Snnda Straits. If to the same
agency be attributed the destructive
tidal wave which visited onr Jersey
coast on August 28 and 29 it woo’d seem
that the agitation extended to all the
oceanic area around the globe forty de
grees on both aides of the equator.
This enormous sea wave aa it expand
ed eastward and ^westward from the
Indian Ocean produced no fatal resulta,
as did the famous Arioa tea wave of
August 13th, 1868. Bat its disturbing
effects upon the earth’s crust in the
South American earthquake belt must
have been considerable. Though a vast
ocean wave is the consequence rather
than the cause of seismic convulsions, it
will be wise for the inhabitants of the
volcanic countries recently shaken by
the Java tidal wave to be,on the lookout
for snch convulsions, especially as this
epoch of the century is (me often distin
guished T>y fatal earth throas.
A scnomsT says that in tha moon a
hickory nut falling from a boqgh would
crash through a man like » minis ball.
I'hat settles it, We shall never go to I patience having oeaasd to be s virtue,
Die Moon to gather hiokonr sqU,~ I she had resorted to the oowhfcl* to bring
tfanUtown Jfcrvtt - ' him to his sam.
Frier*, firm Mac,
-Umtm CfeeataMs
“ Chestnuts are scarce this year, and
will be dear," said Mr. Charles Helfrioh,
recently. " Virginia nuts, whieh are
the beat, are sold at fttandglfl a bushel,
and State nuta at $10 to flL The pros
pects are that the crop will bis very
light, and worms plenty. There is elR-
seen in almost aU
chestnuts. Some dealers say every
eheetnut baa one. This epaek is the
egg of a worm, which has been laid in
the blossom, and the nut grows over it
Sometimes it never gets to be any more
than a speck. Bat with a sufficient
amount of heat this speck soon gets to
be a worm, and eats hia way out, Tim
worms soon destroy a crop. They grow
no chestnuts in California, and the only
way to preserve nuta long enough to get
them to the Pacific coast is to ha vs them
kiln-dried. This destroys the worm, but
it evaporates the moisture.
“ Moat chestnuts come to market in
bags, which keep them cool. As soon aa
possible they should be spread out in
thin layers on the floor. This will pre
vent the hatching at the worms. The
season for native chestnuts lasts until
Nov. 1. Then the Italian nata eome
in. They sell for 10 and 12 cents a
pound, or $6 and $8 a bushel. I have
seen American nuta sell as high aa $10
and aa low as $1.60 a bushel. They are
sweeter than the Italian nuts. In Italy
chestnuts are much used aa food because
they are cheap, but the Italians hi this
country find other food to be cheaper.
There is a flour made of chestnuts, which
is add at the Italian stores. The bread
made from it is very nutritioas, bat
rather tough.
“ The supply of chestnuts varies very
ranch. Sometimes we cannot find
enough to meet the demand, and at
other times the maritet la doU. Attempts
have been made to cultivate chestnuts,
with varying success. A man on Staten
Island has succeeded in
A Fnro.—The Las' VegaaOazette saya.
John Quincy Adams, who is well known
in Socono county, New Mexico, has
•old a third interest in his late find for
$13,000. While prospecting he foond
his haversack on Are, hia prospector’s
glass having focused the sun’s rays upon
it Aa the haversack contained six
pounds of powder, fce-dropped it and
got oat of the way. It feU ioto a crevice,
and a large mam of reek was blown up,
Adams tuned aonrnWBy to gather np
what might be left of Mi eleeto, tad
found a veto of rflvif th|t WjpfcltiBi
tiy cultivation, of a aiae midway between
Virginia and Italian nata. Thebnprore-
ment waa effected by grafting:
“ As the woods are oat down tbs sup
ply of nnta decreased. Tbs decrease fta
this State has been rapid. Considerable
quantities of nuts have been sold for ex
port. Foreigners like the flavor of onr
chcatarata. As to hone chestnuta, I da
not know that they have any
value. There are aome who am
fori 1 ''
that tha eaRyiag of
a
JSW For*
din
mem