Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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.0 N - ____" 1lUI~WEEKLy EDITION. AW1N1NS1BOItO, S. G,, JULY 1, 1879.Y L V- O 3 THE iVENING HOUR. The stream is calmest when it nears the tide, The flowers are sweetest at the eventide, And birds most musical at close of day, And saints divinest when they pass away. Morning is lovely, but a holier cbarm' Lies folded close in Evening's robe of balm ; And weary man: must over love her best ; For morning calls to toil, but night to rest. . She comes from heavou and her wings doth I boar A holy fragrance like the breath of prayer ; c Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, To shut the wety eyes of Day in peace. All things are hushed before her as sho throws O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose ; t There is a calm, a beauty, and a power That morning knows not, in the ovening hour. Until tho evening, we must weep and toil Plow life's furrow, dig the woody , oil, Tread with sad feet our rough and thorny way, 11 And bear the heat and burden of the day. A e Oh ! when our sun is setting, may wo glide, f Like Summer Evening, down the golden tide, And leave behind us, as we pass away, Sweet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay From the Wayside. Dr. Silas Walsh one (lly sat in his olice a reading a very interesting book. It was a part of his business, this reading, for the t; * hook was of a science within the scope of his profession. H1e was comparatively a young man, and.had the reputation of being an excellent physician. While he read some one rang at his oflice bell. He laid aside his book and went to the door, and when he saw what was upon the stepping stone he was indignant. It Was a ragged, dirty boy, known in ! Ernsworth as "'Hanuner ,Iim"-ragged and(l dirty, -and with the vileness of the slums f uponl him-a boy vicious and profane, against whom every other boy was warned v -a boy who was called a thief and i villain, whoIn no efforts of the Overseers had been atble to reclaim, and who seemed to care for e nothing but, to make people afraid of him. Illis true name, as the Overseers had it, was .amles Ammerton. About his father no- Ii hody in Ernsworth had ever known. HIs V mother had died an inmate of the Poor 11ose. ri On the present occasion, Jim's face was c not, only dirty, but bloody; and there ii was blood upon his grimed and tattered fi - garments. ti "Please, sir, won't you fix my head? a I've got a hurt." 0 "What kind of a hurt?" asked the doe- o tor. h "I'm afeared it's bad, sir," said the boy, a sobbingly. "One o' Mr. llunn's men -hit v me with a rock. Ohl" i ''What did lie hit you for?" li "I duno, sir." t] "Yes, you do know. What did he throw A the stone at you for'?" - h "Why, sir, I was a pick'n up an apple i under one of his trees." Dr. Walsh would not touch the boy's I head with his fingers. There was no need h1 of it. IIe could see that there was only a scalp wound, and that the blood had ceaed c< to flow. "Go home," he said, "let your folks d wash your head and put on a clean ban- k dage.' a "Please, sir, I hain't got no home, and I j hain't got no folks." n "You stop somewhere, don't you?" n "I stop at the poor-'us when they don't kick me out." ti "Well, boy, you are not going to (lie gi from this. Go and get somebody to wash ti your head, or, go and wash it yourself, and g tie your handkerchief on." "Please, sir, I hain't got no-" i "Hold up, boy. I havenl't got time to -fa waste. You won't suffer if you g'o as you n are." ii And with tIs Dr. Silas Walsh closed thle ta * door and returned to his boo0k. HIe had not tl meant to be unkind; but really he had not sa * thloughit there was any need of p)rofessional n1 service on his part; and certainly he did not sl want thlat bad boy in his ofice. But Dr. Walsh had not been alone cogni.. d zant of the boy's visit. There hlad b)een a c1 witness at an upper window.. The doctor's b wife had Been and heard. She was a wo- a man. She was not strong, and resolute, b and dignified like her husb,and. Her heart n was not only tendler, buit it was used to ti aching. She hlad no0 children living; but ci thlere wvere twvo little mounds in the chulrchi- ti yard which told her of angels in H-eaven that could call her mother! Acting upon' t< her impulse, as she was very apt to act, she p slipped down, andl called the boy in, by the s< back way, to the wash room. lie came In, tI -rags, dirt, and all, wondering what was al wanted. Thle sweet voice that had called ci hinm had not frightened him. HIe came In, and stood looking at Mary Walsh, and as ii - 1he looked his sobbing ceased. tI "it down my boy." 11 H-e sat down.'n "If I will help you, will you1 try to0 be iy good?"b "I can't be good.'.' n "Wthy not?" s "Cause I can't. 'Taint i me. Every. n Ibody says so." "But can't you try ?" af "I dono." c "If I should help you, youl wold b)e- b willing to try, to please me?'"r "Yes, 'nm-I should certain."1' Mrs. Walsh brought a basin of water andl 1 soft pponge, and with tender band she il a1~vsked itbe #by's head and face.' Then u I wvith ai pair ofscissors, she clipped away the hi hair' fr-m, tho wound--curl'ing, handsome .e a.hir.-aYd found it not a bad one. She - ' roughlt a piece of stIcking-plaster, wvhi6h EiIxedupon itg'and thlen she-brushed the I latk.bjackrfom thle fill brow, and looked a into the boys face-not a bad face-notInl ii 0vil taco. Shutting out tihe rage and (lilt, v i was really, a hasn(some face. -o "What's,your name, my b)oy?" . .a 'Imer Jim, ma'am; and sometimes midho were you^christened?" o n. 'l'Aott know what name your phr- ( O Qye-a, It's down on the 'deers' -v nmlum, ps Jan-ea Amnerton." - ' ell J) e o hurt on your head is, f ru aster i 11 ty soon hleal up. &A t~ flothin -r trld while he ate she watched him narrow y, scanning every feature. Surely, if the cience of physiognomy, which her husband tudied so much, and with such faith, wvas eliable, this boy ought to have grand capa ities. Once more, shutting out the rags ud the filth, and only observing the hair Low glossy and waving, from her dexterous manipulations, over a shapely head, and tarking the face, with its eyes of tustrous ray, and the perfect nose, and the mouth ike a Cupid's bow, and the chin strong, bithout being unseemly,-seeing this with ut the dregs, the boy was handsome. Irs. Walsh, thinking of the little mounds a the churchi-yard, prayed God that she tight be a happy mother; and if a boy was n bless her maternity, she could not ask iat he should be handsomer than she be eved she could make this boy. Jim finished eating, aud stood up. ''James," said the little woman--for she las a little woman, and a perfect picture of loving and lovable little woman "James, rhen you are hungry, and have not ling to at, if you will come to this 41oor, I will aed you. I don't want you to go lhungry." "I should like to come, ma'am." ''And, if I feed you when you are hun ry, will you not try to be good for my ike?" The boy hung his head, and considered. ome might have wondered that he did of answer at once, 118 a grateful boy ought; ut: Mrs. Walsh saw deeper than thlit. The hd wis considering how he might answer ifely and truthfully. "If they'd let me be good, ma'am; but iey won't," he said, at length. ''Will you try all you can?" "'Yes,'m,-Il try all I can. A'rs. Walsh gave the lad a small parcel of odil a i paper, and patted his curly head. 'lie boy hand not yet shed a tear since the ain of the wound had been assuaged. omne might have thought that lie was not rateful; but the little woman could see the ratitude in the deeper light of the eye. 'he old crust was not broken enough yet >r tears. Afterwards Mrs. Walsh told her lhisbtand 'hlat she had done, and he laughed lit her. ")o you think, Mary, that your kindness in h'elpl that ragged waif ?" "I do not think it will hurt him, Silas." It was not the first time that Mrs. Walsh ad delivered answers to the erudite doctor 'hich effectually stopped discussion. After that Jim came often to the wash )oln door, and was fed; and he became 1eaner an( more orderly wit hi each succeed ig visit. At length Mrs. Walsh was in >rmied that a friend was going away into to far Western country to take up land, n( make a frontier farm. The thought ecurred to her that this might be a good pportunity for James Anumerton. She saw er friend, and brought Jim to his notice, hd the result was, that the boy went away 'ith the emigrant adventurer. And she eard from her friend a year later that lie ked the boy very much. Two years liiter te emigrant wrote that Jim was a treasure. ad Mrs. Walsh showed the letter to her usband; and he auiled,ond kissed his little ife, and said he was glad. And lie had another source of gladness. pon her bosom his little wife bore a robust, rithy boy-their own son-who gave romise of life and happiness in the time to >mie. The years sped on, and James Ammerton ropped out from the life that Mary Walsh mew. The last she heard was five years ter lie went away from Ernsworth, and II had then started out for the golden ountainls on his own accoullt, to comn ence in earnest his own life battle. But there was a joy and a pride in the tle woman's life which held Its place and ow and strengthened. Her boy, whom oy called Philip, grew to be a youth of 'eat promise-a bright, kind-hearted, good )y, whom everybody loved; and none ved himn miore thaln (lid his parenits. Ini et, they wvorshiped bhn; or, lit least, his othier did. At the age of seventeen Phil Walsh entered college, and at the age of venty-one lie graduated with ihnor; but e hong aiid severe study had taxed his 'stem, and( lie entered upon the stage of anhood not quite so strong in body as lie uould have been. H-is mother saw it, and as anxious. is father saw It, and dcl adi that, he should have recreation and1( re iperation before lhe entered into active usiness. Dr. Walsh was not pecuiiairily ile' to scnd his son1 off on expensive traiveh, it lie found opportunity for his engage tenit upon tihe staff of anu exploring expedli on, which would cominie healthful re -cationu with ain equally healthful occupa oni. The exp)editioni was bound for the Wes rin wilderness, andi we need not tell of the irtinig bet.ween the mother andl her beloved n. She kised him, and lhelsed1 him11; and ena hung up~on his neck with iiore kisses d( then wenit away to her chamber and -led. Philip1 wrote home often while on lis ay out ; and lie wrote after lie had rCfeahed to wilderness. Is accounts were glow g, and his health was improving. Thrcee Lonths of forest life, and forest labor, of 'hichb Philip wrote hn a letter that had to ) b)orne more than a hundred miles to the direst, poet, and( then followed months of lence. Where was Philip? Why did lie at write? One (lay Dr. Walsh camne home pale and tint, with 'a newspaper ergmpled and 'shied in his h9nd. Not Immediately, but y and by, lhe was forced to let his wvife adc wvhat lie had seen in that paper. She ~ad, and fainted like one mortally stricken, was a paiper fronm a far Western city, andi told the sad fate of the exploring party nder chiatge of Colonel John Bleauchiampe, ow they had been attacked by an overpow ring party of Indians, and how those not uassacred had been carried away cative. Poor little woman I Poor Dr. Wahlhi ut the mother sufferedl most. Her head ready takmjg on its crown of silver, was owedlin blinding agony, and her:heart ws roll nigh brokon. The joy was -gone ou$ fher life, and thick darkness was roundc bout her. And so passed half i year. One (day the ostman left a letter at the door. The liand f the superscription was fjnilar. Mrs, V'alsh tore it- open, and glanced her eyes ver Its contents. O, Joy! '0, taptural [or boy liudt' was well! asltide4o is h' Ioino' to hot. Wjie Dr. W4lsh 'entered tis room he )hl 'his' 'vlie 'faintig,. with the letter imt hed In her nerveless grasp. BIyaid1 yr SaithO fitget surge hia( ossed, husband d wife at clown ii'nd ti"tlhe feita- uhdersthdig'. shiould-say~ afrue friona fonnd tu" wrote of this friend I should have died ere thi He heard of me by my nane, and when I learned that I was from Ernsworth, ani was the son of Silas and Mary Walsh, h bent all his energks for my release. 1I spent thousands of dollars in enlisting an, equipping men for the work, and with hi own hand struck down my savage captot and took nie thenceforth under his care au protection. God bless him! And be yo ready, both, to bless him, for he is comin, home with me." Upon their bended knees that night, thi rejoicing parents thatnked God for all Ill goodness, and called down blessings upo, the head of the unknown preserver of thei n011. And, mn time, radiant and strong, thol Philip came home to them--came home bold and educated man, fitted for the battl of life-canie home knowing enough a life's vicissitudes, and prepared to appreci ate its blessings. And with Philip came a man of middl age-a strong, frank-faced, ltandsome man with gray eyes and curling hair. ''This,'' said the son, when he had bee] released from his mother's rapturous em brace, "is ly preserver. Do you not kno% liin ?" The doctor looked, and shook his head Ile did not know. But the little woman observed mor, keenly. Upon her the light broke overpow eringly. "ls it," she whispered, putting forth he hands-"is it--.James Ammerton?" "Yes," said the nan-a stranger now ni more. "I am James Ammerton! And . thtink God who has given me o'pportunit] thus to show how gratefully I remember al your kindness to me, my'more than mother.' And he held her hands, and pressed then to his lips, and blessed her again and again telling her, with streaming eyes, that she o all the world, had lifted hin up and save< him. '1intt evening Mrs. Walsh, sitting by lie husband's side and holding one of his hands said to him: "Once upon at time a pebble was kicke( about in the waste of sand. A lapidarj saw it, and picked it up, and when he hat brushed away the dirt from its surface, li applied his chisel, and broke through thi crust, and behold-a diamond, pure an<l( bright !" "Iuaised No barber knoweth whom he ma3 shave, and th.e man who rushes into t shop and drops into a barber.chair without seeing who occupies the nexi chair to the right or left may get badl3 left, as a case proved recently. A solid old citizen in the wholesale tradt was taking It easy, his face coveret with luther, when In came a young man' who flung off his coat, bounced in to a chair, and called out: "Hurry up, now, for I must get bac< to the store before old Blank does or ht will raise thunder I Hang him, he won't even give a fellow time to diet' The solid c'tizen turned his face t< glance at the other, and the barber no ticed a reddening of his face. "Going on a vacation this summer?' asked the barber who was preparing t( shave the young man. "Vacation I How in Tophet.can I get iway from old Blank ? And if I couH he pays such a. stingy, contemptiblh salary that I couldn't afford even a rid( on the ferry boat!" "Why don't you ask him for a raise ?' Inquired the barber. "Why don't I ask for the hand of hli freckle-nosed daughter? He'd dis charge me in a minute, though heu making money and can afford it. .1 the old hyena would have a stroke o1 apoplexy the junior partner might d< something, but such chaps always 1ive to be a hundred years old." Conaversation ceased here, the solid man got out of his chair, took a brush Ing and sat down, and when the clerlt arose from his chair and turned around snow-balls would have looked blacl< beside his face. He tried to bow and speak, but something wouldn't let him and when lhe started to put on his coal lie held it tails. up aiid collar down He was ratill struggling with it wihe, the solid man rose up, looked arount and walked out, saying never a word Thue bar bers wet the young man's hlea( and held cologne to his nose0, but hi walked sideways when he went out and there wvas an uncertain wobble t< his knees, in applying for the vacan1 positioni, state what shop you shave at Campjbeus anAd Macdonalds. A good story is told of the jbIarquIis o Lorne and two G*lengary H ighilanders whli called on himn recently. Ever since thi massacre at Glencoe, in whlich the Camp bells dka the bloody work of the Crown, thn elan Campbells have been in bad odor wIth the clan Macdonald, and other sects; indee< It is a proverb that the Macdonalds an< Camipbells "canna eat o' the same kail-pot.' The Glengary men, Macdonalds to th'e back bone, wore in Ottawa on business, and at'tel much debate, resolved to pay their respects to the Marquis of Lorne as the Governor General, not as the son of the Callum Mor On their tvay to the hall theyr talked thi matter over again, anid one of them aug gestedi that perhaps the Marquis,being .p.ampbell, would refuse to recive a Mac donald, in which case thleir position wouh be humiliating. At the gate they met thi Marquis with Major do Wintons and takinj them for servants, the Hlighilandmnan asket If the Marquis woul care to have "twi llacdonalds" to call on him. II E~xcelleney replied that the Marquis b)ori no malice to the Macdonalds, and that 81: John Macdonald being his first niinister, I was clear the Macdonalds had forgiven th Campbells. , 'Forglyn ; the. Catupbells!' cried one of the visitors, "forgive Glencoc Sir ,Jqhn is paid for thiat; lie lias eighut thousand dollars a year for it ; but the, die take'me 'gin 'we forgie or forget!" and wit! thia tire choleric Oaels turned their fae toward Oltawa. ''The MarquIs, however diseced hinself, and,uafter a her haut al~Ifi the fel w,as tdnipordriy:hoalp The vistors were iurged over to theo Agle shlii'e p~~,i whQ'is a i nent ine3mber o: 'e~i liudohod, 'ad .y iitreate4 so hrr m~reIy-that on their d'partute they ftabi 944Uttr4 'Marelle or all Yejb blb$t ~ ~' 'tc The Fueblo Indians. L' - j There are some connunities of the Pue 3i blo Indians living in New Mexico-living in e precisely the way their ancestors lived when 1 Coronado reached "the land of the Seven s Cities ." About 7,000 Pueblo Indians, in 14 villages, are scattered about the Terri I tory. They are analagous in their methods . of building, but use a variety of languages. There are three entirely distinct languages not mere dialects-in use among them,with Li out any similarity between them. In one s of these languages the words are nearly all 1 monosyllables; in another they nearly all r have three syllables. Pueblos, close to each other do not use the same lafiguages. r In the Pueblo of Isleta, for example, in the i extreme south, is used the same language as I is spoken in Taos, in the extreme north, f alnd none of the intervening Pueblos use - that language. About 75 years ago, when the Pueblo of Precos was abandoned by the remnant of its inhabitants, whose numbers had been terribly 'reduced by contagious diseases, they had to go through a number of Pueblos of different languages to reach - the Pueblo of James, where their own tongue was spoken. One of the most in teresting of the Pueblos is Taos, where the inhabitants nearly all live in two large stone buildings, each about 401) feet long, and nearly 200 feet wide, and five stories high, somewhat pyramidal in shape, each story being slightly smaller than the one i under it. Each building contains an ini mense number of rooms, and the stories are all reached by ladders from the outside, the only entrance to the rooms being through a hole in the ceiling. Each building con tains about 200 people. The buildings are not at all ruinous, but are kept in perfect repair, and are always scrupulously clean. The rooms have no windows or arrange ments for light, except the door in the ceil ing and a round hole in the outer rooms, about the size of a stove-pipe, through the wall. All the rooms are thoroughly white washed, and are kept so white and clean that they are light enough for comfort. I lardly an atom of dust is to be fond In any roois, and the grounds about the build ings are kept cleanly swept. The people are always hospitable to strangers, but no visitor is ever allowed to penetrate to the center of the building, where it is said there is a great estufa in which the sacred fire of Montezuma is perpetually kept burning, and where the ancient rites of the Aztec religion are still performed. Each Pueblo is gov erned by officers elected by the people every year, who are implicitly obeyed. When disputes arise they are settled by their own tribunals. No troubles ever come to the knowledge of the territorial authorities. The men are nearly all agriculturist i, and the Pueblos own all the finest farming lands of the territory. The women make all the pottery that is used in that section of the country, which is all made by hand, with out a wheel, and is very accurate in shape. Tle furniture in the rooms consists princi pally of lounges covered with skins. The Pueblo Indians are citizens of the United I States, having been citizens of Mexico at the time of the treaty of peace. Although they are entitled to Vote and hold office, they have not done so for a number of years preferring to be exempt from taxation. Some of the educated ones can read and write Spanish. The men wear pantaloons and blankets, and men and women are ex eiplary in morals. They never intermar ty with the Mexicans, and the men are not as small as the Mexican Aztecs, although the women are small. The men look more like our Western Indians. 1 A Mouth African Dinmond Mine. From wha.ever direction one comes from the surrounding plain, the most prominent sight is the lofty range of sand mouinds, rising up from out the center of thes townl, anid over-topping everythinig. These are composed of' earthl from tile original thlirteen sur face acres of the Kimberly mine, and thrown up around the edge of the gradually-deepening pit, just as the ant onl a smaller scale piles up a circu lar ridge arounld its hole. By diamond "mine" in-Africa is meant a pipe of sev eral acres ac perficial area anld unknown depthl, runing straight down through stratIfied layers of shale. Each pipe, and there are only four, is filled in to the level of the general surface of the plain with sand, tufa, and a diamond bearing brecola or soft rock. The Kimberly pipe or minae has now beeln excavated to a depth of about 250 feet. M.ost of the streets of the town con verge to it. We walk to the edge of tile rock which surroumnds it, called tile ''reof," and before and beneath us ex tends an abyss-a liuge, oval-shaped cauldron-open full to the skies. Over its edge lies a sheer descent of 250 feot; across it, from side to side, a stretch of 1,000 feet, or a fifth of a mile. Coming even as one does from the life of the town, the first look into the mine is a fascinating and bewildering one. Lit tie by lIttle facts unfold and steal upon , he attention. One talks to is neigh bor as to a deaf man, for a steady hum or roar fills the air, chliefly - made up of human voices aind the whir of buckets ascendina; and dedcending on their wire ropes. Ten theusaiid men are working below and around us, ini t,he pit and around its edge. All ls in plain sight Ifor there is no burrowing under grounid. Far below, little black pigmy men-so they seem in the distance-are.moving about, but not singly or at random, for closer observation shows that they are working in groups, each .group upon a certain well-defined square patch of solid earth,' at wich it is pieking and delving, or walking to and fro over it, carrying little buckets of loosened soil. lIn their midst site or stands a white overseer, or the master himself. Spreading over theO whole 'excavation or pit, dAuildron, pot ort basin, 'which ever conveys the eleareat idea, like a spider's web on a dewy terning, run innum,erable little white threads-so thecy seem as they glisten in the sun. Follow one s'uch thkead to our feet, and it ti,ll be fenad to be absi'ihg wire tog worn' white with 'constant usq. An4hede osi th dgle o tan, d,alled as we knoih tb e,of."0,! we find a scene of life and labor even more ani mated than below. All around, but chiefly on two opposite sides, is erected a framework of timbercalled the "stag ing," estimated to have cost $250,000. It Is built in three tiers, like a three story houee, and each tier is floored to afford standing-room for laborers. Firmly set all along each tier of this staging are hundreds of wooden wheels about four feet in diameter, with a crank on each side to be turned by four Kafllrs. The iron ropes run from ev ery part of circumfere nce, but differ greatly in length-sonie extending ver tically dowti the reef, sonic far out into the center of the mine, and others to varying intermediate distances, but each to its own claim. Such a rope is stretched from the bearings of each to its corresponding claim below, ivhore it is made fast to a post sunk firmly in the ground. ''nus a wheel, a wire rope and a ''claim,'' be it only a six teenth, are inseparable and equal in number On these wire ropes the "blue stuff"' is hauled In buckets, by aid of the windliss, up out of the mir e. A Close Shave. A picturesque incident is narrated concerning Gen. Chantzy during the time of his Imprisonment under the Commune. lie was closely watched, and when one morning he asked for a barber to shave him, that individual was only allowed to enter escorted by two national guards. The day was dull and the light bad, and the knight of the basin moved the general about several times, complaining that lie could not cee, and that the guards were in the way. Grumbling, they fell back a little and the barber began his work. Pres ently he observed that he had never seen a man more difficult to shave, and adding: "How hollow your cheek is 1 Come, General, a la Provencadel" he thrust his thumb Into the General's mouth to press the check outward. The prisoner was for the instant naturally enraged, and was about to protest, when he become aware that sonic small object was lying on his tongue. The shaving linished ad his visitors gone, lie placed himself in the only position in the cell in which he could not be seen, and took from his mouth what proved to be a little roll of pauer, on which was written: "Keep up your courge; you are not forgotten. This will not last long. Saisset." It was a true prediction; in a few days the General was liberated by an order from the central committee, A Word to the Inquiltive. There were some mad men in a certain Kentucky post-office recently. A postal card was dropped into the letter-box ad dressed to "R1ev. John Penobscot, --, --. It was an or Uinary. card, and the postmaster was an ordinary postnaster. le took it up, glanced at the address, turned it leisurely over and read : "--, -, May 2, 1879.-You to whom this card is not addressed, and who, neverthe less, have the check to read it, are a con temptible, unprincipled sncak and a prying, pusilaninious coward. George F. l)ugan." The postmaster laid the card down gently and lounged to the other end of the house, softly whistling "Nancy Lee." In due time the clerk came upon the card, perused It, threw his hat upon the floor, stanmpe it, and made the night iddeous with the howls of his pet dog which lie kicked in the ribs. How the card fared with the various route agents through which it passed It is imipossi ble to say ; nor do we kniow whether it was read by the woman who.le postmistress at the office where the llev. John Penobscot Is supposed to get his mail; but the report Is that on the clay it reached there she smashed a large bottle of Ink on her hus band's head, spanked the children all arouad and chewed up ninety-five cents' worth of wax. We cannot be too careful never to write on pastal cards anything In the least calculated to wound the sensitive delicacy of the post officee people's feelincts. Peeniiarthes of Soame Aimals. Cats are affectionate; they love young chickene, sweet creani and 'the best place in front of the fire-place. Dogs are very faithful; they will stick to a bone after everybody else has deserted it. Tihe de'nkey Is an emblemi of p)atiencee; but it you study himi closer, you wvill 11nd that laziness is what is the matter with him. TIhme eagle is the monarch of the skies but the little kiingbird will chase him to his hiding place3 Monkeys are imitative; but If they can't imitate some mischief they are not hiappy. . liens know when it Is going 'to rain, and shelter themiselves; but they wl4 try to hatch out a glass egg as honestly as they wvill one of theit own. Thie-elephaant has t.he least, and the rabbit the most eyes for its size; and a rat's tail,is just as long as its body. The roof of a thorough bred dog's mouth is black ; so Is the bottom of a oat's foot who is a good monger. The serpent and the crab change their clothing each year; the raccoon' lives all the winter long' on the mem ory of what he ate in the summer. Ited and Wit. -Wino. Physicians and others in discussing the qualities of wine, and the effect of different kinda and vintages on the hi4 man systenm, have arrived at the con elusion that red wine is less 1,njurious to health. than white' wine. The 'sub Ject has been revived Iattet'ly in t.he Spectator, and the following reason has been given, foi thie difference in effect: Rlettwines are rich tn tanning; white wines are not; the natural difference being that the. -astringent' pIhciple forms a counteraction to the -stimulaa ingindtuence of th~e alcohol conitainedI. Washing and Ironing by WholKale. There are no set tubs in a steam laun dry, and, in fact, no tubs of any kind. The bundles of clothes are opened as soon as they arrive, carefully examined, to see if their contents agree with the senders' list, marked with a number and sent to the washing machine. "Yes," says Dame Notable, "to the washing machine to be pulled and twisted and tied up in knots for an hour, and to come out again without having a single soiled place properly rubbed, and then sent to be bleached in something that rots them all to pieces." But Dame Notable is wrong, as she usually is, being a member of the em pirical school of philosophers. The clothes are neither pulled nor twisted, but simply put in a barrel, which is made to revolve five times, and then, by an ingenious bit of mechanism, turns five times In the contrary direction, re peatet)ly drenching the clothes that it contains with suds that is almost, but not quite boiling. There are no dashers, wheels or rods against which the clothes can be torn, no furious boiling to make them turn yellow, and no incessant whirling in one direction to pack them Into hard masses almost impervious to water. Out of this hot bath the clothes ire drawn and sent to the wringer, not to be pulled between rollers and robbed af all their buttons, but to be put into in open-work basket and whirled about at the rate of 400 r.volutions a minute, the water flying out through the sides f the basket, and the clothes, in their !ftorts to do the same, pressing them selves almost dry. A rinsing and a iecond wringing fit them for the dry ing-room, in which they stay eight minutes. Any garment which, when 3xamined before ironing, are found to be so soiled that the suds has not Aleansed them, are sent to be bleached and afterward submitted to a thorough bath in pure water; as a rule, rather less than one piece in a hundred is in eluded among the "washovers" as the bleached pieces .are called, and those that are sent are generally so clean that they would be considered passable if done at home, but the managers of laun dries find that nothing short of his ideas Df perfection will satisfy a customer. The ironing rooms contain nothing es pecially curious except the mangles. The machine which will iron a shirt has yet to be invented, and although the task may be lightened by carefully shaped boards and convenient heaters, and although the temperature of the room may be lowered by placing the stove in a ventilated enclosure, ironing Is the same hard work ilta laundry as it, is elsewhere. That it is not very un healthy, the appearance of the girls en gaged in it gives ample evidence, most of them being unusually strong looking. Dresses, ladies underclothing and pil low shams are also ironed by hand, and ourtains are pinned on a large frame while damp and dried in the sun ; but culs, towels, handkerchiefs, sheets and pillow cases are put through the man, gles, in which steam plays the part of Mantalini, while a pretty girl takes the place of his shrewish wife. Two roll ers covered with felt and cotton suc cessively press the articles to be sonoth ad upon a large heated roller and drop them upon a shelf beneath, whence they are taken and again submitted to the rollers, the whole process being conducted so rapidly that fifty cuffsi can be ironed in two minutes and at quarter ; for towels and piain unstarched articles another mangle is used, which dries as well as smooths them, and turns them aut all ready to be folded by the aswift lingers of a girl. Among the hil trit>es of the Anglo' Indian frontier, cunning is quite as highly esteemed as personal prowess, and there is ample foundation for the native proverb that " it is easier to find snow in summer than to outwit a Khy beree." But even these masters of stratagems occasionally meet their match, as the following adventure, told in the lnguage of its hero, a Hlindoo trader, suflciently shows: " Wh len I started to go from Peshiawar to iIerat, I knew that I couldn't expect to pass the mountains without meeting a rob ber or two, and I made my p)reparations liccordingly. I laid out all my money in several large diamonds, which I bound around my headI in a s0o10ed rag, made to look like the bandage of a wound. Then I put on the raggedest clothes!I could get, and loaded a donkey with loaves of spiced bread, such as the mounitaineers like, putting a good dose af opium in every loaf, and away I went driving my beast before me.' It wasn't Long before I fell in-with half a doz'n ' ghorumsaugs ' (brigands), who never troubied them ielves abouc me, seeing what a miserable object 1 .looked, but low at once upon the baead and de voured it all. The op)iumn was not long )f producing its effect, and as soon as they were alil asleep I took what money hey had, packed all their weapons and dhe best of their clothes upon my don. key, and went on my way. But I can mihl you, Sahib, I took good oare never otravel by that road again." she Took the Cow. Over in Wimdfall, recently, a man and ils wife got to that point of disagreement mo -graphicelly described in -"BQtsy and I um Out." They decided to separate, ahd he assets of the partnership were divided 'p until only the baby was left,. Whe tho rather said "If you will, leave the . baby with me ri 11 give y4n%good cow." The nother consIdered a niornient and ?Iecideq hat goodcow was gotth *95, and a baby -well, pretty poor property. 80hn tol e cow,. FOOD FOR TiiOUGiT. Contentment abides with truth. Striking manners are bad manners. Politeness costs little but avails much. A chilid-God's problem waiting ian's solution. Never associate with bad compiyiv. lHave good company or none. There is nothing so fatal to comfort as well as to decorum, as Fuss. ''here never was, and there never will be a believing prayer unanswered. l)o good to all, that thou mayest keep thy friends, and gain thine enmieles. It is as sinful to doubt God's willing ness to save as to doubt his existence. It is the best proof of the virtues of a family circle to see a happy fireside. Christ Is God stooping to the senses and speaking to the heart of man. It is a fool who praises himself, and a madman who speaks ill of himself. A religion that never suflices to gov ern it man w ill never sufilce to save him. how low faults are there seen by us, w bich we have not ourselves committed. It is more profitable to look up our detect s thtan to boast of our attainmnents. 'The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken. 'lhe oil of the lamp mn the temple burnt away in giving light; so should we. The heart is a book which we ought. not to tear in our hurry to get at its contents. An hour should never pass without our looking up to God for forgiveness Imd peace. Good thoughts, like rose leaves, give out a sweet smell if laid ip in the jar rf menory. It rich be not too joyful in having, too soliuitious in keeping, too sorrow ful in loosing. All men look to happiness in the fu Lure. To every eye heaven and carth ieem to embrace in the distance. Our own hands are heavens favorite 1estrutments for supplying us with the necessaries and luxuries of life. No man is rich whose expenditures 3xceed his meanis; and no one is poor whose incomings exceed his outgoings A soul which studies its spiritual in erests in a quarter of an hour's daily metltation can never be lost. Gray hairs seem like the light of a soft morn, slivering over the evening of life. ''hte best teacher of duties that still lie limt to its is the practice of those we see and have at hand. Adversity is the trial of principle. Withont it, a man hardly knows whether he is honest or not. When a man speaks the truth you may count pretty surely that he pos sesses most other virtues. The greatest pleasure I know is to do a good action by stealth and to have it, found out by accident. To nourish angry passions against a man whom I really once liked would be to lay a blister on my heart. 'I'ho remembranceof a'beloved moth er becomes the shadow of all our ac tions; it either goes before or follow.. Some poet prettily describes getting old, as "sttanding at life's west wiin dow.'" One of the hardes, tasks ever set a man is to forget the good deeds he has done and to chide uimself for the evil. Nothing is small that is the will9i God, and nothing is great-so great, that we cannot do it-if it is the will of God. A sense of forgiveness does not pro ceed from marks seen in yourself, but fromi a discovery of' the beauty and free niess of Christ. Ilowv great one's virtue is best app)ear's by occasioni of adversity, for occasions (10 not make a man frail, but show what he really is. If any one says lie has seen a just man in want of bread, I answ:er that ir. was in sonme place wvhere there was no other Just man.. Good books efi'eeted in Loyola what. the fear of approaching death, a hieav enliy app)aritlon, a mniracatlouis restora tion to health had failed to do. Happy is lhe who has learned to do tihe plain duty of the moment quickly and chleerfully, wvherever and whatever it may be. Make no man your idol, for the best man11 must have faults; and his faults wvill insensibly become yours, in addi tien to your own. This is as true inm art as in mnorails. Tihe wise main preseroives inl his own bosom tihe sacred flame which enlight ens him, though windis may blow and temlpests roar without. If any one tells you that a m1lountin has changed its place, believe it; but. if an*y onec says thlat a man hlas changed his 'character, believe it not. Even in the present twilight of our. practIcal anld mloraLknowledg~e, we may perceive, by every form of instanice, how often tr.e wisdiom of love, good ness, and simplicity wvins, evei i the races of thuis world, against the wisdom .o' crafty and astute self-seeking. The only way to sinme, oveni in this fualse world, is to be modost and unas stuminig. F"ahsehiood may be thick crust ed ; but, in the cour'se of time, truth will finid a place to break through. Ehe.. gance of language may not be in thle power of us all; bt simplicity amnd dtraighitforwardnuess are. Whatever you do, never set tup for a critie. We do not- mean a newspaper critic, but one in p.tivate life, in the do moestie circle, in society. It will not (10 ally one good, and it will (10 you very groat harm, if' you ninud being called, d iso greea ble. If you do not like any one's nose, or object to any onp's chin,. do not put your feelings into word If any one's manners do not please you remember yotur own. People are n all made to stilt One taste; recolleet that. Ta'mke things s. you find them, unless you Oenn alter them. 'Even a dinner, after it is swallowed, cannot beo made funy better. Continua fiult find. ing, continual criticism of the conduct of this one. ahad the-p eh of that on,' the dress of one5 an 'the opipoous ot. another, wil) make teunhappi 4est place uindr the, 3 f you ara nte.r pleased, wihflyitl@ no one, Will be plaae wIth ~6i~~O i Isl known yo9 e I ld~.. si,w will '