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TRJ-WEEKLY EDWINNSBORO, S. C., JULY 12, 1879. C., ULY 2, 179.VOL. 111.-NO. 70. ASPIRATIONS. Our aims are all too high, we try To gain the summit at a bound, When we should reach it stop by step, And climb the ladder round by round. lie uho would climb the height sublinio, Or breathe the purer air of life, Must not expect to rest il ease But brace bimt if for toil or strife. We should not In our blindness seek . To grasp alone for grand and great, U)isdainlng every smallor good For trilles make the aggregate. And if a oloud should hover o'or Our weary pathway like a pall, Iemember God permits it there, And Hia good purposes reigns o'er all. Life should ba full of oarnest work, Our hearts undashed by fortuno's frows, Let perzeveranace conquer fato, And aerdl seize the victor's ciown. Tite battle is not to the strong, The race not always to the.fleet And he who seeks to pluck the stars, Will loso the Jewohs at his foot. Ninon's Prince. It was the siege of Paris. ENgenie ha tied from the Tuileries, the provisional gov ernment been organized under 'I'roebu. Al Paris was in a state of wild alarm, and ti Prussian armies were steadily making thei way toward the city, investing one pon after another, and rapidly cutting off al communications between the besieged citi and the surrounding country. Winter wa coming on ; food and fuel were becomlinl scarce, busIness was entirely suspended the boulevards were filled with idle, aimles loungers, gazing with sad and hungry eye upon the long defile of troops that iarchee before them. The hiavy rumble of tha artillery wagons echoed through the streets and the ambulances formed a sad proces sionl, with their terrible suggestions of thn dead and wounded for whose c,'nveyanc< they were prepared. ''he air was heavy with sadeness; Paris shuddered at the thought of the suffering that it mast. en counter, and i hitter wiil rose from the lip of the po->r. Into the quilet. and aristocratic precincta of the Faubourg St. lionore the grim ghosi of famine and bloodshed had not made theil way, and the luxurious entresol of the fash. ionable hotel where Ninon, the gay litth Baronne de Valcotur, look tap her abode dur. ing the gay Parisian Winters was all alight with sunshine and flowers. Ninon hersell was the dullest thing amillst all the bril. liant glitter of ormolu, gilding and looking. glass. She was leaning back in her cush loned fauteuil, with the toes of her slippera extended toward the fire and her head throwi hack wearily, looking the very personilrle. tion of ennui. "Would madame eat her breakfast?" en. quires Pifin, with nllieittietl, an o mc I ranges the inevitable rolls and coffee on a small table by her mistress' side. Ninoa opens her eyes and shuts thon again, and the coffee grows cold. Finne knows hei fate. If this coffee is spoiled, in half an hour she will be called upon to prepare c fresh one, so Fifhie ventures another sug gestion. "Madame has no appetite?" "Fifine you bother me. Go away." FINine departs, but returns again in the space of two minutes. "Madame, voici monsieur." Madame turns her pretty little head ant Iakes a comprehensive glance at. the tail young offlcer In the uniform of the Nationa Guard who enters the salon and makes hil way to her side. '' The Prussians have not eaten us n1 yet?" enquires Ninon, with a yawn thal she does not take the smallest. pains to coi ceal. "Not yet. Would it be a great source o: relief to miadamne If such an event. were t< take place ?" "Rlathter." ''Don't you care for mec at all, Ninon ?" "Don't be silly, miy child. Tell me wha Ils Excellency General Trochu is about and( when you ipropiose to stain that elegatn uniform with Prussian gore." "Poor ParIsI" The young oficer sighe<i and shook his head. "Paris Is very nice-all but the Prussians and1( nO one Is gIvIng any p)arties. TJhat an noy3s mue." "Ninon are you really as hteartlesa as yi seem ?" ''Just about. What (10 youi want. me t* (10?" '"Tell m1e you love mte, Ninon, just. a lit tIle." "Bhut I dlon't. " 1IThe hoy3Ishl lips trembled, and a grea wave of sorrow sp)readl Itself over the falr fresh countenance. Thea lhe knelt dldw by her sIde, and1( a single tear fell on the lit tic hand that he stooped to kiss. "Ninon, Ninon, won't you love mec ?" "You are a great stupid boy, and( ye imust go away, or I shall never eat m; breakfast. You are a ve'ry nice boy, Ar mand, but you look as If you were goingt cry." "Ninos. I" Trhe wordl soundledl like a er of pain. * Then he kissed her hands(1 . gain an turned away to leave her. -"I shall not egme- agaIn, Nlnon." -Madame la Baronne disflgured her p)rett mouth -with an incredulqus lIttle mow and the door cIQsed upon her boyish lover. ,Paris in a state of siege-a city of tw~ million inhabitants surrounded by the forc< of a terrible enemy, and all supplies cut of) Daily thte distress and destitution Incaset Fafnine and disease reaped a rIch hiarvo among the poorer inhabitants. The shoe wini.er (lays were grhus and cold, and tl scatnty supply of fuel and food grew lei and less every haoutr. The streets were fille with a gaunt and hungry crowd of despel ate men and destiaIring women. Emeut<4 broke out in g), pats of 'the pity, and tli uiseless bayomlets of the NationafGuard wei -ttrned tW destroy their own follow-cit~h Ieh adends of distress and suffering bh ganl i6 make themselves heard even in ti u'uuitartern of the Fatubou'rgh si [fonore, where Ninoit do Va1cour wore oi her dayA wailing over the dullness and drca *iness of. tje giay capital. Ttfe hIgh pric< dlemanded for all the niecessaties of life b< gan to exhauast even theo princely Do Va cour revenues.: The estabhshmnenit m(st 1 reducted and Baroness Nhman awvoke .ont. 4 her long 4re:m of Ithxury 'and lazlness face life ft the test thue. sedeu~sly. Ti days.*egir o ( deryCij e wAl' pronohing, 'nd the biter cold steadily bi e ~ ~ hilhd 6,e of th ~ wari pop ac w ungierand hugrer att esk disandnthe st'dang saffe Terrible reports of distress and inisery about her made their way to Ninon. 1ier friends gathered around, but their discourse was only of the horrors of the siege. One among Ninon's friends wias mtissing ---the quick eager tread of Armand de ltochecouur sounded no more in Ninon's salon. That boyish form of the young olli cer, with his untarnished uniform and un used sword, appeared no more among her guests. And when she found that he did not come, Ninon bel a; tv miss him. At first she snniled at hi, at>sc i4:e, then insensi bly she began to watch for his coining, and as thel days passed one after another, Ninon grew anxious. Sometimes she would sit alone in the twilight-the lonely little bar oness, rich in everything but love-and the sweet, lip)s would mnurnur, "'At least he loved me, le bebe " '' Then a deep far-off look would cone into the brillirnt eyes. "Where is the prince ?" It was the evening of the 29th of Novem ber. Ninon was sitting alone, watching the slow motions of the hands of the clock as they pointed to eleven, when a quick, hurried tread sounded behind the chair, and the clanking of a sword startled her. "Armand !" she exclaimed, as she turn ed and encountered the excited glance of the young soldier. "Yes, Ninon. At last Paris is roused. ''o-morrow there will be a grand sortie. 'The order has been given. With a hundred thousand men we shall leave -Paris, march upon Champigny-o to Villiers. I)ucrot has sworn to re-enter Paris 'only victorious or dead." I have comne to say good-by. Before to-morrow night Prussian ball or bayonet may have' quieted forever the heart that loves you so passionately. Kiss me, Ninon ; say God bless you I" Then lie sank down at her feet, and laid his head upon the little hands that rested on her knee. Ninon lifted the brown hair from the fair young forehead ; a moment her lips rested there, and she murniured, ''God bless you, my Armand !" Then lie pressed her for a moment passionately against his heart, and left her. In the moi-ning the troops were in mot ion. Paris thronged the streets and crowded the windows on each side to watch the sad pro cession as it passed. Cheer after cheer rent the air; "Vive la France 1" "A la vic toire !" sounded from the throats of the lookers-on as the long defile wound its way to the gates. Tho well-drilled men marched silent ly along, their countenances grave and severe. They were about. to make a last ettort for Paris-for France. With stern and set, determination they moved forward, looking neither to the right nor left, lest th e sorrowful faces of the women they loved sl1ould unnerve their hearts and unsteady their hands. After them followed the ar tillery, the wagons loaded with provisions, and-oh, sickening sight 1-the ambulances that would convey so many of the brave men, now leaving the city with buoyant tread, back again within its walls. wounded, hilnl-aq atnd vinr. At the hend of his conipany rodt Aruand de Rochecour. With head erect, and lips firmly compressed to avoid their trembling, he led his men past the windows of the boulevard where Nin'on de Valcour stood watching the exit of the troops from the city. lie did not turn his head, but the hand that. held the bridlo rein shook as the heavy tread of his powerful horse bore him slowly beyond the gaze of the bright eyes that looked down upon him. Quietly Ninon watched him go, steadily she looked after his retreating form. A soft mist clouded the flashing eyes, and' as the distance hid him from her view she nuirured, gently, "Armand, God watch over thee I' All (lay long, that terrible 80th of No vember the Incessant roar of cannon echoed back Into the stillmess of the city's streets. Paris held her breath in anguish. I1er best, her bravest and her noblest were lighting for her deliverance, in deadly p)eril, just outside the city walls. Outside the wails the sickening dIramna of batt,le, with all the horrid accomp)aniiments of tumult, noise and bloodshed; inside, the no less horrible torture of susp)ense, as those left. blehind waitedl with blanched faces an:d bated breath for niews from the scene of conflict. Among the foremost in thme strife on that terrible morning rode the b)oylsh oflcer, Armand die Rlocheccmr. Th'le pure blood of his .Norman ancestry courses wildly through his veins t.o-dlay. France was his life, and he would give h!s life for Franice. Ilis hatred to the p)lebeian Boinapartes, of the odious republic, wvere all forgotten, when for the first tline he found himnself face to . face with the foreign foe who dared to at t ack the very capital and strike at the heart, of his sacred land of France. t Farly in the aft.ernoon Champigny yield edl to the passionate attack of the fresh French troop)s. Amazed at their (defeat, -the Germans fell back to recover from their bewilderment produced by this-amost their first-reverse. Trhen, rallying from a their surp)rise, ireinforccd with fresh troops and protected by their batteries, they fell Supon the French with a sudden fury. Dis o mayed by the unexpected attack, wecary . with a long clay's fighting, the half-disci plinied French soldiery fell back. With a wlild feeling, half fury, half dlespamir, Ar lmand sa.,v the line give way. "Cowardls," ho muttered below his breath. Then turn ing suddenly to his meni, lie cried: "Cour ,agel Will you go back to your wonien and tell themi you fled before Prussian guns? On, on I Conquer or die like Frenchmen!" o Then lie rode forward ; but the terrified, a panie-stricken men were deaf to his call, i and suffered him to go alone. With his .right arm uplifted lie rushed toward the ,t Prussian line. With the cry still on his t lips, a fragiment of a shell struck the powv Serful right arm, shattered it as if it were the a rotten branch of a tree, and tore its way d across the fair boyIsh forehead just above .the eyes. Prone on thme earth lay the pow e erf ul form of the brave young officer. A e cry of adiniration rose from the lips of the *e men behind him. They turned and fled, and left hiim to his fate. ., -~ The evening shadows fell over the battle e plain, quieting the noise and strife; the .fighting ceased.' The Prussiain guns were t sIlent and -the Fr ch troops retiredatt l y back toward PaN. On the btan e~ dusky forms came flit&iEgifaT - C6IM " y.. sable uniforms, relieved ont t* - I- cross of Genevau, they went ea lent - se mierciful errands, Two of' tliu --. >f ing spirits bend over the formu of Mmiin ,o do hiochecamur. "Deadt poor fell Wiu ~e asks one. "No, he brethes." Then they .lifted him'gently uje~n the tihulance; \And *theo brave young offcer wlso rpde tt ft in g~ thte gateel of Parl* that morning full of l1, eeelh:ad turage, is borneap el agtun r. Iblid; %iniured. tile fht gone bYt from 'hla eyes forever, and i the powerful form with its strength and beauty forever crippled. They lay him on a narrow bed In a caowded hospital. The gentle hands of a Sjster of Charity dressed the terrible wounds, and as i she looks at him she nurmurs, pityingly, 'Poor fellow, lie is blind!'' Ninon has listened all (lay to the soimnd of that terrible cannonading, waited all night in f rightened surprise for news fromt the scene of battle-for tidings from Ar mad de Iochceaur. In the morning do word has conie, and the suspense grows more and more intolerable every moment. Dark circles have appeared under the brown eyes, and their ba illiancy i. all faded, gone out in that long night of watching. liest lessly Ninon paces the long salon. Finally a sudden impulse seizes her. " I will go and find him." It was a long and weary search. ''hey direct her frot one place to another. The streets are filled with a hnrrying, eager crowd, each intent upon his own affairs, and it Is long before she can find any one who can tell her where to look for him. At last they direct her to the hospital where he is lying. Ninon passes between the long rows of beds, sees the suffering faces of the men that 1111 them, listens to the groans of the suffering and dying, andi the tears fill her eyes and roll down upon her blanching cheeks. "it is too much for madamle to witness," suggests a young stir geon. "No, no; If they must, suffer it, why should I not see it," and tlie spoiled child of luxury btaces up her nerves and goes on o meet the sorrow that lies before her. She finds him at last. As she approaches his bedside she trembles. She looks at the white bandages that lie upon his eyes and shoulders. 'I'hen she speaks to him, and the glad smile that flits across his lips re assures her. His single hand goes out to meet hers, and he tries to speak. A warn ing gesture from the nurse attracts Ninon's attention, and she whispers, "Do not talk, Armand, you must get well first I" From an old soldier who watched over him Ninon learned the history of the sortie. As she listgne(d to the story of how bravely the young soldier bore hhnself ont that dreadful day, and how he fell when, goaded to fury by- the desertion of his men, lie rushed forward alone upon the Prussian line, Nimon's heart swells with a new and sweet emotion. The lovely mouth wears its happiest smile. There is a look of new ly found happiness in the brown eyes. Su(d denly they fill with tears, and the little lips murmur softly, "I have found him, the prince." Then the Sister of Charity comes and whispers gently and pityingly, ". Madamne, he will be blind." All the horror contained in that dreadful sentence sinks into Ninon's soul, and with a voice whose utterance is choked with sobs cries out, "Armand, my love! Glod help you I" Then she lifts her tearstailned face, lit up ll+;a11 is r.f,.. ..' ..." . and looktg at the sympathetic coUiitonance of the poor sister, whispers, "He shall see with my eyes." The sister looks into the depths of the lovely eyes raised to hers and thinks, " lie is not so much to be pitied, the brave man." Through long nights of fever and days of weary restlessness Ninon wat'chcs by her lover's side. Strength returns to the crip pled body, but the sorrowful eyes wear al ways that helpless, vacant expression pecu liar to the blind, and the strong right arm is roresented only by ain empty sleeve. le is not forbidden to speak now ; and one day as lie hears Ninon's footstep by his bedside, and the soft rustle of her dress as she bends over him, lie says, "You are il ways with mite, Ninon, are you not, or do I dreain it ?" "I am always with you, Armland." "What brings you here?" "Because I lovo you, dear." ''Love me ?-hut I am a cripple atnd blind." "'Yes, Armiand. Your right arm and~ your eyes you have given to France. Will you give the rest to ame?" "'Ninon I" aund the left armt, the oiily one lie hias, draws her quickly anid pamssionately to his side. Her soft breath plays against his cheek, and ass lips11) mteen hers sIte whispers, '"Armand, my p)rince, I love you." Hygiene of Cellars. Perhaps no class of people live under coniditions in sonte respect more Insantitary tIhan does the farmer. WhIle lhe haus an abundance of fresh, health-giving air all about him, he oftetn through ignorance or neglect, himuselves prepares at home the most effective means possible for mhaking his home a hot-bed of disease. Somiethinas in anothter, the laws of sanitary rectItude are violatedl ; pterhiaps more, often the evil ap pears under tha house, beneath the very foundations of the home, where thte mnalign influence can be applhed most thoroughly and effectively. Dr. R. C. Kedzie, Presi dent of the Michigan State Board oflHealth, and Professor of Chemistry in the State Agricultural College, has contributed to the last annual report of the State Board of Health a imost admirable paper on "1Healthy homes for Farmters," fronm which we ex tract the following ; we shtall give our readiers more extended and equally valuable extracts front thte same source at soite fu~ ture time :"Go dowin Into thte cellar and exatuinte thtefoundationsof life ; see wbethter the cellar Is dry aind well ventilated, and the air sweet and wholesome ; that novege tahbles and useless rubbish of any kind are left to rot it your cellar. Or do you find all kinds of things going to decay, the cel lar wet. thte walls slimy, mtold spreading over everything, and a close andl stiflingr odor pervading thte air of the cellar ? If these itanimate things could give voice to their warning, what a sound would startle our ears ini htfndreds of cellars in our State. 'Here lie it ambush diphtheria and tmetn-. branus croup, the destroyers 'ef childhood, and typhoid fever, thtat strikes at all ages;i here lurk the seeds of consumption to bring forth the slow but sure liarvest 'of lamenta tion and woo l' 'For the atone as)I cry the b)eamt out of timber ~AI~1t though thtese voice. 4M~'~?word-of warning, they aa~ ~g 'sof danger ; the spotted 'cdfungus attacking the timbers .of cellar show that destructive agencies Saeat work, Why, man I death is gnaw ing the very sills of your' house, and sh,afl he spare those . tender morsels, your chi dren?t hs damp, iustmoldy clers are se-beds offiAedeLe. not slope 'td preerve healtlt over $noll danfl hpoij Do nt lay.yegetais,to rot in your c at tO apread rottenness through alld Not One Friend In all Amerla. There was a day when 'Talleyrani arrived in I,avre, in great haste fron Parla. It was in the darkest hours o the French Revolution. Pursued b' the bloodhounds of the Reign of Ter ror, stripped of every wreck of proper ty or power, ''alleyraud secured a pas sage to America in a ship about to sail lie was going a beggar and a wanderei to a atrange land, to earn his bread b3 his daily labor. "Is there tny American staying tv your house?" he asked the landlord o: his hotel. "im bound to cross th( water, and would like a letter to somt person of infludntv in the New World.' The landlord hesltated a imomen; and then replied4 "There is a gentleman up stairs eith or from America or Britain ; but wheth er an American or Englishian I can not tell." le pointed the way, and Talleyrand who in early life was bishop, priIce, and afterwards a prime minister, as conded the stairs. A iserable suppli ant, he stood before the stranger's door, knocked, and entered. In the far corner of the dimly light ed room sat a gentleman of some fifty years, his arms folded, and his head bowed on his bredst. From a window directly opposite, a flood of light pour ed over his forehead. Ilia eyes, looking from beneath the downcast brows, gazed in Talleyrand's face with a pecu liar and searching expression. Hils face was striking in its outline, the mouth and chin indileative of an iron will. his form, vigorous, even with the snows of fifty winters, was clad in a dark, but rich and distinguished cos tume. Talleyrand advanced, stated that lie was a fugitive, and under the impres slon that the gentleman before him was an American, lie solicited his kind feeling and offices, poured forth his his tory in eloquent French and broken English. "I am a wanderer-an exile : I am forced to fly to the New Woi ld, with out a friend or hope. You are an American. Give me, I beseech you, a letter of yours, so that I may be able to earn my bread. I am willng to toil in any manner; the scenes of Paris have tilled me with such horror, that a life of labor would be a paradise to a career of luxury in France. You will give me a'letter to ohe of your friends. A FAg1B?g.luan likesjuo.has doubtless many 'Tile strange gentleman rose. With a look at 'I'alleyrand never forgot, he retreated towards the door of the next chamber, his head still downcast his eyes looking still from behind his dark cned brow. He spoke as lie retreated backwards-his voice was full of mean ing. "I am the only man born in the New World who can rise his hand to God and say, I have not a friend, not one in all America I" 'I'alleyran d never forgot the over whelmning sadness of the look that ac conpanied these words. "Who are you?" lie cried, as the strange gentleman retreated towards the next room. "Your name?" My namuel--witlh a smile that had more mockery than joy. in its convul sive exp)ression-"My namle is Benedict Arnold !" 'He has gone. Tialleyrand sank in a chair, gasping thle words "Arnold, the Traitor I one wvho has betrayed lisa country." Tinuls Arnold wandered over the earth, another Cain, withl a wanderer's mark on his brow. Even in the se cluded room, at that Inn of Ifavre, his crime found him11 ont, and for ced him to tell Is nanme-thlat name the synonym of infamy. *The last twenty years of Arnold's life wore covered with a cloud from whose darkness but few gleams of light flanh out upon~ the page pf history. Three Indian Mkeletonas. WilIe workmen were engaged inexcavat ing cellars l'rom proposed changes in the( houlses of Mr. Jacob Heck, of South Fourth street, Eanstonl, Pa., recenttly, the skeletons of three -Indians- were' unearthed, one of whiohi is supp)losed to be that of a female. Only one of the bodies had been placed ini a naturally extended position, the other'two being placed in a sitting, half-reclining pos5 Lure. The bones were all-in good condition. Tile skeletons were about two feet undor 'thie surface. With them were found beads, p)ipes, rings 8and trinkets. One of the rings had the appearance of being mnade -of old iron. The portion of tile town where the skeletons were found is the oldest inhlaited1 part of tue borough. When tile house was first built, twenty-six years ago, five skee tens were dug up. An O1ld citizen, over eighty years of age, says that when lie was ten years old they used to dig up skeleton. in thle samlocaity, and that at that time( none of th~e Inhabitants remembered of hav lng seen Indians burled i,n that8 portion of the town. This shows thaat thle bones haye been there for over one hundred years. . Marie Loutes Girthie. A golden girdle presented by Napoleon.L to thme Emtpress Mario Louise is in a Londom auction roon. It is forjned of two narrov b)ands of open work, set with pearls in th( formo1of. the.Greekhioneyuckje at the edges, iid .jo)ning at the entre with *t large an tique onyx cameo of Apollo. an~d a muse, from which hangs a long. pendsunt increas lng in width down to the lowest edge, wher< it. ls ornamented with five imperial crowns, each hiavig ai tfssel'of lIe pearls. Th< pendantt, being flexible, 1*spadp of broat openi work linkp of t tyM~~ nA, rqpeate4 alternatoly, an.$ K4uaiargje pp larges from thiQ,wRlQg owIw T4.fioe Qe ( utmost elegance amnfin A Landi i1 iro"i-u by 31an. lc ,, in one of his voyages, while (aptaiii it el, T 'ripp> was must er of the hark A ret ic, I(! e f reached as Iigh as latitude 73 degrees. Inill 1870 Wriigel's 1and wiIS elear of ice, aindi ' in 1871 his ship was wiithin a mile of the e . shore of that lald, which no huInan hting hiE has ever st-ppe(t iponl, so liu- us history tl telis. ''h)is diesolate islaiind lies 4o the ti,t1I- V West of I lk-ring's Straits, anld nearly in (14 hlatiitide 7-1 degrees and west longitude '8I r degrees. It nuay be as large its (;uba, or to fir larter; but, inlike tlIt tropie island, it br is given over t4 ey iesolation--and possi- kit bly to seals aid polar hears. h'arry, in fl 1827, working nortlward awty to the east lle of this unknown lanl, mtade his way about t 8 degrees farther north; and Kine went up, w on the tlreenland side, to ibout HI degrees; but, though the Pacitle side is evidently the right way for a voyage to the 'ole, this 1 latitude of 80 degrees has never bee.n tni acIhievedI im the neighbocrhood of \Vrangel's ti Land, unless by whalers, who 'ould not it land. Of this unknown latnd (aptain Tripp it saw someth ang, in 1hat favorable ice seasoin ti, of 1871. With the tid of a splendid glass, b lie got a goo(d view of the land, btt was (el unable to see any human habitat ions, or ti evidence thereof. No animal life was visi- 1113 ble save sea-birds, that flitted in mid-airIuly along the shore. The earth was green, no snow being visil9le anywhere. A coast range is visible from the oceatn, which re semibles the coast regions along our P'aee shore. Shrubs were plainly visible, but Captain Tripp was unable to discover tiny large tirees or forests. Wrangel's Land runs northwest, and, so far us known, ex tends indefiuitely into regions never pene- i: trated by man, unless it he the Esquimtnaux. Ut) The Indiatls inhabiting that portion of Alas ka bordering on the North Pole have no C traditions that any people have ever been "L seen on Wrangel's Land, though they state sta that dcor of a variety unknown to Alaska can have been found on I lerald Island, in the six heart of the Arctic, and on1 which the fee land named can be distinctly seen. It. is supposed that, the animals Made heir wa ri across the ice from the mainltand of \Vrtn- pI gel to the island. No canoes, clothing or at relics of any kind have drifted from Wran- at gel's Land to Alaska, as an indicntion that adr another race of human beings existed in the the unexplored regions of the Arctic. Still, it we is believed by those sea captains who havei taken close observations that the mysterious country alluded to is habitable. ''hie fact cct that no snow was to be seen, that vegetti- ri tion looked green and vigorous, and that to 1 mountains loomed ip in the distance, as the sheltering fortresses for the valleys, are so feel many proofs that Inuamity could find ta tak foothold there. It seems that no whaling sec captains have ever attempted to land on Wrangel's Land, but, it must be remembered W that they visit the arctic regions as business to meon, anid not as exp)lorers. Captaini Tripp) abl says that if the North Pole is ever to be tenl discovered the discovery will be maie from han the Pacific side, as navigators can reach in t WitaxiWmcefa:. ther north o .tie Pacific jrn clinatic rigors that beset explorers on the hat Atlantic. At Kotzebue Sound, at the mouth of Buckland river, Captain ''ripp frot saw land 7U feet high, beneatb which a ig stratum of ice was distinctly visible. At oue Point Barron the land is only six feet above eon the ice, all beneath being a strat,um of con- wa gealed water. !!ow deep this stratum is, t e remains unknown, but it is certain that the the earth has gradually formed itself on the Ice. There is reason to believe that Wran- tho gel's Land is of like formation, at .least 1es along the shore. There is no telling how roc far the ice body extends inland as a sub- i ft stritum. out A Miuclievoiue Monkey. ltet . Little Jack is the funl of the whole (age, gra and at the same time lie is the plague and torment of the inhabitants thereof. lie Is s about as large as a htlf-grown cat, andu, Ca1, thocughL quit.o a baby, has the face of tin the old tman. iIe is a rhesus, the Bhuinder, or ling sacred monkey of Indhi. lie is remark able mli for agility. Ilis eyes are full of intellgence the anid as qmuiek as ia hawks. lie Is a regular te Paul Pry, and hntrudes himaself julst where- t ever lie is not wanted. 'Thus, wvhen Ti'ny sti I and .Jennmy have nestled themselves in a lai corner, little Jack jumpls right into the mid-- or in dIe of the group anti does his best to up)set led; the pamrty'. Like all little peop)le, lie has a gras great idea of lis owni eonsequence, antd fas thinks that I-his master-anm terribly l afraid of him, for he makes tat ine the mostso hideous faces and chautters in a manner that be0 onie would think lie was a big gorilla ; at it F least, perhaups lie Is in lisa own estimnatioti, bii lie can't bear being laughed tit, atnd if 1 moi0 laugh at him lie gets p)erfectly savage. 1t say Is a curious thing, but, I always knowv when ey It is getting on for onie o'clock by thme muon- a keys beglinmg to cry out for their dinner. Lt 'They all have differenit voices, tind I know mii thIese voices as *ell as I know the voicesotf We peop)le about me, Triiy Is ai Moonai mlontkey, 51m3 and she alnost says the word "Moo-nia" in 1 her cry ; it, Is a pretty nielantchioly cry. lea] When angry she makes a different noise ; up whion eating or warm she girunts with satis- er faction, amnd they say I grunt like her. Jenny has a trembling whine. Little .Jack wa chatters "'kik-kik-kik," atmd when lie Is in n troumble he screams most feairfuilly. The the mnarmio'ett's niote Is a very high, squeaky, an1 p)laintive note, like that of a bat. Ile htis car also anoithier mnote which I cannot describe ; I it is of anger or fear. si When the dinner of boihled potatoes la brought up the monkeys sit round thme plaite, cacti one eating as fast, as lie calm.' It is thi thien that their selfishness Is fully demon- no~ strated. There Is an old riddhe: "Why does a dog carry a bone in his mouth ? Amns. Because lie lhas no poci<et to put, it ini." Most monkeys hatve check p)ouchies, andi I am sure the reason why they hmavo rat p)ouchles is as.follows :J Their ntitu)ral hiabi- Go tations is in tk'ces. They comue downon tihe U-n groumnd for isects. iMy monkeys are par- cum ticularly fontd of meal-worms. Thtey .col- 015 let their food on the ground and put It in their pockets-thaat is, pouchie-and,go up ani Into the .trees agalin to finish their dinner. Trhey, therefore, when the potatoes. arrive, kit set to work eating as hard as thjey can. son Th'ley fill thecir pouches at $h, sama .tiidid. Litdeo Jack has very large , pouches ; ino riat trace of them can be.seen at ordinary tinioe, but at d1inter time he fillila ' ponchies to ct such an:extent.that the two of them putt to- Exo gether are nearly as big as ide whole head. de~ I Well, onme day the.'two.a elderly monkeys. I were sitting on the perch in ithe cage, fin- to eIshaing off: the contenits -of .their. ponchde, SliK e and their, tails were hangingstraight down sol i fronhthe pereb. Whrlat niuat, rascally, little i Jaclk to but takeo Tiiy's tall jms one,. die p. ~qad e tail to tjwe,9tjer, ~g eth,~l Tsbroght time -twpj, 9(0 OgJ %o; the W floor of the cage In an Idtatant. 1hey i,vere Go tit furious at being thus lnterrupted imer Iime ; they asked no ineati ons, 1 'h thinking the other had instlled Ih gIan to light in i most, utloving matn tey graplelcd and rolled over and over I atiinatted ball. They don't hurt the ves when fighitlug; their teeth are i enough. I can always stop them owing cold water on them. While I 're lighting little Jack kept ju'npi wnit upn thetm, 10 keep (hem going, i re. 'rhe rascal was iueh too aceive e get cauiglt. 'I'he noise of the coitl tighlt up .etmtty the surricale fIrot I eien below. Jenmiy was pickein up 1b .id of mine near" the It('ape of (ood Ill is abotti the size of a large rat, and I ike i nitntgoose inl appeiaraince. Ile y tIns tup when nuonkey light, is y on, atnd, as usual, upl my gentlemi es, tail erect and flr. all bristled up, I ke hitself took hig. It so happen .t dluring this fight 'Tiny's tail project ought the har"s. .1emtnty inmiediateiV I vith his sharp teeth. Tiny thougit w little Jack that had done this, so s ned and humted him all over the cap she could not catclh him. I,ittle Ja it popping itn and out the sleepitg ho I then .emmny joined in the hunt. .lei kept guard outside the cage and I 'body's tail as their tails happened ie out from the hars. Altogether, the a nice row and little .Jack, as 1lsil at the hottot of it. An Avenitro. ltarles May and his brother Roher the spring of 1870 otlered to pa )00 railroad ties down tho Arkansi In the mountain source. lie say ur offer was aecepted, when t rted into 'the upper enitrance of 11 on with a large skiff provided w!t dhys' provisions anitd two hundre t of rope, with which, by taking tiug turn around some irmil nted object, we could lower our bot unired feet at a titue. In this wa3 the end of three days, having se ift miany hundred ties, we reache entrance to the Royal Gorge. .lei discovered to descend the fill ter-fall with two in the boat' wi Ltin destruction, and to return wat )ossible. Aecordilgly I determine ower my brother down the full I boat, a distance of two hundre give him the rope, and let hit 3 the chtanecs of' the canon (lif ned matore certain in that direction] le I would risk my physical abilit climb the cauon wall, which wa lit two thousand feet high. Abou o'clock in the morning I shoo: d with my brother, lowered hir lie boat safely to the foot of the fall n..kim the rono .aI1 saw lim n and boots, and stripping the sock n Iimy feet, I collenced my climb way, often reaching the height a or two hundred feet, only to b Ipelled to return to try some othe r. At length, about four o'clock ii afternoon, I reached a height upoi snooth canionl wall of about usand feet. Here my further prog t was arrested by a shelving ledge c k that jutted out from the canon sid tot or more. To advance was with: hope; to return, certain deatit tcling upward and outward sped the rim of the ledge with on id and then with the other, my fe( ped from the smooth side of th on and miy body hung suspended i air, a thousalt feet above the roai waters of the Arkansas. At thr nont I looked dowvnward to measur distatace I wouild have to fall whot strength e'' my arms gave out. Iginig sensution erept throught m r' as my eye caught the strong roc Citil b ush tha a projected over th ge-a little beyond my reachl. M sp upon1 tihe rim of the ledge was yiel yleig to the weight of my peu .iThen I dietermifinedi to make ma t efl'or't to raise my body' and throi ideways towards the root so ast ig it within my grasp. At thu inent of dommtencing the effor't, namy miothier's face as she leanie r the ledge, reachied dlowtn her hian I caught me by the hair. Strangei mother dIed whIle yet a youn inian, when I and my brotheir weri ill1 boys, but I roeember her fact Vas sutccessful in mnakinig the aid p~ of liy armis, wvhen I drew myso: m the ledge. and rested awhlil< um here upwaird my climbitng wao laborious, but less -dangerous. ehed tihe top of the cannon jnst t snnt was sinkitng downm behind th 'WY range, arid hastened to ot 19l at tihe mouth of the canon, wvhea mud my brother all safe. ' Charley I lie, 'have you had your head In ir sack.' It was theni discovere .t my hair was as white as you see . A Neat Trick, t younig man in full uiniform of a Proi mr's decretary, called lst week onu ti vernor4General of Chiarkow, Rusqi irteously saluting, said lie, "M!. the Pr ateur' begs ydur Excelley to be so got 0 conie at onoo to hisa office." 'Anfthinug very inyortant?" was ti Wor.' 'We are'on the tradk of Prince Krape 's murder'er, and youlr Eke*lleney's pr ce is most necessary." 'Good I [iwill ring and .ordef' the cdi 'Pray d~o dolt iroubniid1$atrhel . Thb Pr ateu*r-hasrAent bis olvn ar'rIa 'd fof 'ye cellency thatt nd thhe bd 198,; ofer'yhl >onds 6mn bxpdditiobride~." r'he Gbtetnor & dti 3'd nian go I the ca fag'e, dan4' ld Ini ad ce lOiid dedn. -aTik G' xh6t li hill fallen into the hands df'thlP"Nihlilge l'he heaud of.ths..nohlc hat sin gf at ttetoring the )rowncd. rut Apply heat to the drowned body. rr, Get it war. 'lhis Is all. Only get it i warm. I deserve no credit for the re. 1m- ceipe. I discovered it, one morning lot wheni a boy. ''here was no wit nor by wisdom Ill the discovery. It was made (' accidentally. One wintry afternoon, 1 I found a chicken lying in a frozen pool of water. The half that was fro zen by the water was frozen still'. I he picked up the cr' ature, took it into the a kitchen, and laid it on the stove a e. minute to thaw out, so that I might of pluck it. Presently Its head lifted slightly and dropped. In a minute or m so its body Iluttereid. I took it up and o found that it was alive. Now the ex A planation of the thing is very simple. d the heat acted upon the nervous een )it tres of the chleken, these uponl the e ieart, this uponm the blood. The blood e, began to circulate, and the chickeni be k gaIn to breathe. Of course the chicken x, had becn dead. Everybody knows how u- frozen fish come to life again wh6im t warmel. A miin digs a hole in the lee, to brings imp some 1lopping pickerel, and throws themt on the ice. But any fish ermatn will tell that after remaining frozen for two or three days--weeks, for aught I kno-iv--they can be resus cttated. Now It Is the same with the hiumant body. Take a drowned man, wrap a warm blanket around the body s 1pour warm water--as war1m as the Ilesh will bear-on the blanket, which will eproduce anl equtally distributed warmth in the body, and life will be restored, I no matter if lie has been dead for days. Why, I. have saved many cases. The I llrst was that of a man who fell oil' ia boat him Lake Erie. The captain tol lowed my directions irnmediately, and they wore successful. I have often tried the experiment on dogs. One summer I drow ned the same dog twenty times, and brought him around all i right each tiime. You can take thost s (logs at the pound oim the East river, warm them up well, and make them alive again as easily as not.'' In cor roboration of this assertion, Dr. La1m bert pulled out a memorandum book, 1 and proceoded to read extracts from letters lie had received, and tiei cited intstances of the operation of the cure. lie is an earnest believer li the doe trine of the possible resuscitation of the t drowned. "Wrap i in flannel I" Ie exclaimed, "and soak the flannel with warni water. That Is all !" " -.w._.t -. v" u+vaiLLUtmg,. b'a'k btweeti an 1'ramiiaoo~an1iYm boldt Bay, our provisions consisted on f the down trip, in most cases, of elk p meat purchased at IIumboldt Bay, 'and r Ilvariably hung up1) in the rigging, cov ered with eannvas. IJpon two occasions when two hindquarters from the same animal were hung up side by side, the . erew sometime In the night uncovtlred f one of them to cut off some pieces' for e bait for the numerous fishes following - in our wake, and neglected to replace the canvas covering. In ti morning i the cook noticed that time niap had a e slimy appearance, but not sspecting e anything, cut oil sunu ry slices to cook e for breakfast. The result was tha't the n wimole ship's comnany were nmadeik, -myself included, wimieh the captain onm t linspetinmg time quar'ter~ of ment, dedmded e was owving to the eflects of' time moom'sm I mrays, and ordem'ed it to be thrmownm dver t board ; but thme imate ridienling thmis y idea, directed time steward to slice oil' t mnore of time same for his dinnmer; and 0 at time sanme tinme two of the crew ate of' y time tainted mecat. Thme restuit was .tihat s all thmroe wvere made extremply sick, - with symptoms resemiblitig thmose of V chmoera-viz: voumitimng,. eramps, etc. i' Thme rest of time crew who ate from tihe o other leg, were not aff'ected, and w,o ate t fmrom time onme thmat remnained until ournm I arrival 1mm San Franmciseo. 1 fumae Sen I inm China seas twvo 01' three inotances (of' d men who hmad slept on deck exposed to time rays of thie full moon being attacked g withm "mmooni blindnmess," that Is, tinable e to see 1in tihe nighmt, thmoughm per'fectly ale to see in time diaytimne. Thmese at Stacks after' a tinmo wore off.- Ath'ough not sunprstitiouis f. fully believe lhm the banefuli efl'eets of time moon's rays. I Ytink that thmese effects;atre nmore pmreva lent in time tropical water, espoolally iln a time P?acifle amnd Indian oceans, anid only unmmder cloudless skies. e 33Big Grape Vines. ' CalifQrnmia has, probably, .20 yines, aeach of wvhioh produces more thapm 500 lbs. of' grapes as, anavag. rp Anmong those are vines at Colotm and Blakes, and near Monteoito and Stock ton-representing the Sierra N'evada, the coast mountains nmorthm of SanTFranm -. ohsco, time San .Joachimi Valley#, time 0southern coast,-the level of theoda, and .an elevatori of 8000 feet abo1ve 1t4 Thme Stoekton vine, a tnile' southodst' of the town,:In the yard of Mr'hIelps'-house, ~,Is a foot im diameter, and has this year produced 5000; lbs. (AM totshfAge6rGing, t- to the 'Independenta, W9 ghtoh 5- nothing la ey of. the yield Qf*.ia lN 199i1Qit and ~9oobIg ,vineS,.:'.W ya o 4att,.1n,65w~ yp,itg ud it mtime d~I : 'tth 9, set out In 17 nwd ott 6 bhi'