Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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._ . . __'__.___..- -. _._ },_ _ ....._. __.__.._..__... J' ., '"". 1L10 11 SYR1 /1MISY.Mfh u...ItS "' i i, . ? LA iGY\tiNti111t\i/! d . TRI-WEEKLY EDITION, W I NNSBORO, S. JANUARY 22, 188 LIGHT THROUGH OLOU LB. ii, o I hold it ainful to despond, ";'fi, And will not let tho bittt.rnes of lifo B. 13lietl ma with burnting toats. but look beyond Its tumult and its srifo. Piecanso I lift my head above the nmiat, Whero the -un thi' s and tho broad breezes blow, By every ray and every raindrop kissed, ' hat God's love t!oth bestow; Think you I find no bitter les at all, No burden to to l) ruo like Christian's pack? Thiik you there ate no rcady tears to fall, Because I keep them back. Why should 1 huv 1.fo's ills wi h co'd reserve To cnreb unseo;f and all who love nto? Nay, A thousand times more goo 1 than I desor'e Od gives me overy day. And n each one t f theso rebellious tears. Kept bravely back he imakes a rainbow shine, Orateful I take hi- slightast gifts; no roars Nor any doubts are mine. Dark skies must clear, and when the olouds are past. One gollen day redeems a weary yeart Path nt Ill ten, sure that sweet at 1: at WiAl sound his voice of cheer. The Heart of Ice, The winter a day was drawing to a close, and the bleak shades of a snowy night wore setting in. In the silent seclusion of a deep and lonely glen, far from any other habitation, aid somo length from the public road, stood a small cottage, known as the Glen Farmhouse, the property of Ralph Granite, who resided there with his wife, :.nd had done so for thirty years. IIe was a cold, hard man-cold and hard as the name he bore. Mary Granite, his wife, was the exact re verse, with a motherly face and a wartm and tender heart. On this bleak night of December, this night of storm, wind and snow, Granite and his wife were quietly seated in the large, homely kitchen. At last Mrs. Granite, dropping her knit. ting in her lap, .broke the silence of the room. "1 wonder whore Alice Is to-night, Ralph?" - "What rlo you care wher9 she is, eh?" roughly exclaimed the farmer, looking up from his paper with a dark frown. "4 night of storm never comes but I think of my poor girl I It was on such a night as this that she left our home, and to-night I have such a strange feeling ac my heart." "Banish her from yaiur thoughts as I have done--the disobedient girl." "Oh, Ralph, Ralph, it is unfatherly to talk thus I Remember that she is your daughter, my obililt.tha nnly nh1i,1l Um ever gave us." And tears came rushing to the poor moth er's eyes. "What clann has she on us now? A very dutiful daughter she proved, didn t she?" cried the father, bitterly. "When Alice disobeyed me by marrying that fop, George Convey, I tore her face and me mory out of my heart." "Alice was never a disobedient child never, never 1" wept the mother. "She loved a man who loved her truly. She came to you and told you all; he, too, came, and asked your consent, to marry Alice. What was your answer ? You re fn.-ed, insulted him, and thrust him from your house." "As I'd do again," muttered the farmer, between his clenched teeth. "1 t hey were married in the village church." went on Mrs. Granite, "and took the night train for the city two long years ago. From thas time to this her fate and whert abouts have been a mystery, and site has never written to us." "Yes, she wrot'e," said IRalph Granite, his face growing still harder. ."Site sent two or three letters after she went away, but I destroyed thtem the moment 1 received them." "And you never told, me." Oh, 11alph, Italph, that was cruell" "Not more so than her disobedience to her father's wishes. Come how, drop the subject." Once more silence reigned in the farmer's eottage. Ten o'clock came and the storm eoutlnu ed with uabated fury. The farmer and his wife took up their * candle, and a.ecurely fastening the door, took their way up to their chamber above the klichen.. The'ly had scarcely entered the apartment when a pitiful cry was wabted to their ears from 'without. Mr. Granite raised the window and put his head out. 3 t "Whose there?'" he asked, trying to * penetrate the iarkness. *'A poor woman who has lost her way In the night and storm," said the- sorrowfnl Svoie. "Where do you want to go ?" "I want to reach the vlilage, butt I'm not able to walk anmy further. Won't you give me shelter. Pray do-only till morning I" spoke the wanderer out in that awful Rstorm. "Poor thing !" cried Granite's wife. "i'l go down and open the door." "No you won't." And the farmer stayed his wife; tihe1 said to the woman : 'You follow the road a couple o' mikc and you'll reach the vilage. We don't tak< in wanderers." Hli ,hut down the window, and his wift -fell into a chair weeping. "Italpht, RalphIt" she cried, through hea *tears, "your heart is ice I The poor womat will perish I" The farmer made no answer, but rotire< to bed. . - Man without a heart, sleep on, for it I the last night of peaceful slumber that wil ever visit your pillow. The morrow' dawn -will bring to your house a htorro which will blight, darken, andashadow you future on earth ; it will rend your icy heat as It was.naver rent before I And the poor woman of the storni wheore was she?i Out oi the lonely roadJ whtere-snow lay in drifts, and the wind tor by. On, on, her step faltered, shto stoppe then fell. Fierce howled the wind, heavier fell tb Snow, and on thme roarisideo started up faco ; white as the smiow that surrounde it, the face of the strange womam, rigid I deth, N her shroud pf snow. orning dawnqd, with a blue sky, 6Wil su, aai snew 4ad country. Farmer Granite and his wife were eating breakfast. The farmer's face wore a strange look, and his wife was puzzled. "Wife," said he, after finishing his breakfast, and pushing back his chair, ''do you know what 1l going to do to-day ?" "No." "Well, then, I'mi going to write to the rity and ask both Alice and her husband to Cmine out here." "Are you really In earnest ?" "Yes, wife. I've been a stern father long enough. I'm goln to make up with A ice and her husband." Mrs. Granite's joy was unbounded. The heart of ice was melted at last. "I wonder what become of that poor wo man who came to our door last night.?" "Oh, she's in the village now, in all pro bability." A pain, heavy and sharp, seemed to catch his breath. Why did he start and seize the back of his chair to keep himself from failing? Four men were coming up the path four neighbors carrying between them a plank, with something on It. They entered the larmer's kitohen and laid the' burden on the floor. The, farmer anr.d his wife were pale as the dead face befo"o them. "A woman, Mr. Granite," explained one of the men, "a woman as was found by us four this morning, up yonder on the road. She's quite (lead, sir." "Why-why did you bring her here ?" gasped the farmer. "Cause I thought as how her face looked like-like--" A wild shriek came from Mrs. Gra nite, who dropped on her knees and tore the coveriL.g ofY the face of the dead wo ian. A cry of agony and horror came from the farmer, as the dead face, with its open, glassy eyes, stared up at him. "Good Heaven !" he cried, covering his eyes, and staggering backwards. "It Is Alice-our Alice-whom vou re. fused to shelter last night I Oh, Itulph, It is the vengcecce of Heaven 1" A nioatn, and Mrs. Granite fell to the iloor In a swoon. "Our Alice?" moaned the striken father, kneeling at his dead daughter's side, and parting the frozen hair from the white tem ple. "Our Alice, whose brightness I have so longed for; and 1-i killed her I I was going to write for you to-day, Alice. It's too lIte now 1" His mind was giving way under the aw [ul shock. A letter was in the postofilce, and had lain there for two weeks past. One day after Alice had been laid in the churchyard, Mrs. Granite received and read it.. It was dated from the city, and from her daughter, telling that her husband had' failed in business and died, and that she was coming home -coming back to the place where she was born, for her heart was broken t . prayed that har sitir The letter was received too late. It is summer, and the little churchyard of the village is a blooming Eden. A double grave has been made ; two cof fins have been lowered into the earth, and the little slab contains three namnes-Ialph and Mary Granite, and Alice, their daughter. Husband, wife and daughter sleep to gether now, under the shade of the church yard willow. Eighteen Sons in the War. Rev. Daniel B. Helton, a Baptist preacher of IHoan county, Tenn., is 88 years old, and is as active as most men at 50. le recently walked three miles to give testimohy at the county seat and re turned the same day. lie says: "I can sight a rifle gun as well as I could sixty years ago, ani only for a slight tremble of the hand would not amias one shot inI a hundred." In reply to the qtuestion, "On which sido were your sympathies during late war'" he rep)lied: "I was always a Union man. I had sixteen sons in the Union army and two in the rebel army, and my sympathies were with the Union fourteen imjority." Whieii asked if lie knew which of the boys were right, lie said, "I know 'which 1 think was right, cap'n. There war fifteen majority hn that 'ar family including me. I helped the boys on the Union side." iIe hits been twice mar ried, and is the fathier of twenty-one ohil.. dren. Hie served mi the war -of 1812, but draws no pension. It is siaid hby the ex soldliers thant he disd good serviee dturing tie war by aiding Union soldiers to commnuni cate wvith their families wvhen they were in the rebel lines, and In many other ways. If lie can't get a pednsion for services In either the wvar of 1812 or that of the rebel lion, ho certainly ouuzht to get a liberal one for his services betwveen tihe two. The ok man is in indigent chrrcumstances. Foinlts of Ei,aw. A note on Sunday is voidl. A note by a minor Is void. Ignorance of the law excuses no one. N'otes bear Interest only when so stated An agreement without consideration Il voild. The law compels no 0one to do Inpoessi billites.. The act of one partner lkids al the others A receipt for the money is not legatlla conclusive. Contracts made on Sunday cannot be en forced. IA contract made with a minor i voli except for necessities. If a note is stolen It does not release th maker I lie must pay it. A note obtaiaed by fraud, or even from one Intoxicated, cannot be collected. -* Each Individual In partnership is reaper sible for tihe whole amount of tihe aebts c the firm. IAn endorser Ofr a note Is exempt from liability If not served with notice of h dishonor wvithina twenty-four hours of 1I ii non-payment. s IThe ownership of personal property ' law as not changed until the deaivery, nar r the purchaser actually takes posesession t such property,thtough In some States a bl of sale Is prima facio evidence of owne s hip If executed, even against creditors, u less the sale was frauduleptly made,for tI a purpose of avoiding the payment of debts A #iFR wantedl her hitsband to syr ahie with her inl a ferminmine qtuarrc a utihe refused, sayIng, "I've ~1ivi l ong enoughmto kniow hnoewm 0 isa go S another, if not better, "Andi," retorted the ifie, "have 1I adlogeogyto know that one mi Is a bad as another. if not worse I" The California ranchmen have won dcrfu aptitude for driving, and one sees some pret ty good examples among the hills. The road down the mountain sides is entirely unguarded upon the outer edge, and the do Scent in -most places Is precepitous. A balky horse or a fractured wheel, or a slight carelessness In hand ing the reins. might easily senld a carriage load of people to des truction-and an awful destruction. too. The path is wide enough for one pair of wheels, only, but, at Intervals, in favorable places, it broadens so that tennis nay pass each other. To drive in such a manner as not to meet another traveler midway be tween these places is a special branch of the art. The huge lumber tennis which carry wood from the mills in the mountains to the yards in the valleys, being unwieldy and very heavy, are especially hard to manage. Yet the drivers always seem easy and nou chalant. First, there is a large four-wheeled oaken truck. with a seat in front ten feet above the ground ; behind it is anot her Iruck, somewhat shorter, but still enormous ly stout. These are fastened together and loaded with from ten to fifteen tons of fresh ly sawn lumber-boards and joists. This mass is drawn by six or eight mules or horses, guided by reins and a prodliglously long whip. The first wagon has a powerful brake, worked by a long iron lever by the driver upon his seat. The driver is a man of nerve and courage. His skill must be of the highest order. It will not do for him to take fright even if in imminent danger. ancd he must know to a hair's breadth where he can go, and where he can not. Towering up far above the road, overlooking the most stupendous depths, and guiding with a few slender lines a tremendous force, he must needs to be an adept and a tireless pne. But a baholder-ignoraut of the danger that constantly surrounds him-would say that his work was simple, and that he imanaged matters with ease. True, he seems so. With his broad-brimned hat shading his sun burned face, his sinewy hands holding the reins with carelessness, his legs outstretch ed. with one foot feeling the all-important brake, lie jogs onward with his monster charge without trouble or concern ; the bells upon the horses' breasts jingle a little tune; the great wheels crush the stones in the path; the load creaks like a shiip's hull In a sudden gust ; wild birds sweep down into hazy, sunny depths below; yet the driver seems to take no heed. But let a scare take place; let a herd of runaway cattle appear at a bend and set the horses wild, and then see what will happen. The day-dreamer will become a giant of strength : he is up in a flash ; he shortens his hold upon the reins, and feeling his wagon start up beneath him, places a foot of iron on the brake. The horses snort and rear and surge ; the harness rattle, tho dust arises, the load shrieks again, and the huge wheels turn fatally faster and faster. An instant may hurl the wagon down into the valley w!th its struggling train-*a .njadir-i} Ag e horrible plunge. muscle, cyc, brain, skill are then brought to work so splend,idly to gether that the peril is averted, and the looker-on, who knows not the wa. of the land, regards the teamster with profound respect thereafter. The Earl of Essex's ning. The gay and accomplished Earl of Essex occupied at proud and enviable position. He was the favorite courtier of Queen Elizabeth, and had been loaded with honors and made Lord-Deputy of Irciand. More over, he had received a distinguishing proof of the affection of his royal mistress Ii the gift of a ring, accompan ed with the promise, "That should he ever forfeit her favor, to return it to her, and the sight of it would immediately ensure his forgive ness." But the alluring favor of a sovereign Is often fluctuating and dangerous. Dark ness aiid sorrow soon overtook the ptroud Earl of Essex. iIe was sent a close p)riso ner to tihe gloomy Towver, uinder charge of high treason, aind lie must yield his life as a penalty for lisa crime. Elizabeth, with a bold haiid, had signed thme death warrant, and time time for his execution was rapidlly approaching. Hie had been conducted to prison inA way most harrowing to lisa sensitive spyt. Tne death Instrument-the axe--had you carried I advance of him, with its nlarp) edge full in his view, and a mercilea curi ous crowvd had followed, cruelly aunting hin. But his greatest danger cany- from his rivals amid enemies. There w- courtiers high in power and in favor whI thme Queen who glom ted in his downafld thirstid for his blood. It was a terrible lime ,t the unfort nate Essex, and his soul w AIhrouded in ack ness. 1lls doom a) red inevitable At last a faint 'kof light aro and struggled for mast4 in his bosom. The0 Queen's gift, the 1ng wvas in his 88ess lont, anid lie ren c3red her promise Pos sibly it might adto his dlelveranm. Hlow could ,oget It to her? well knewv lie was lrrounded by treacd y, and It was ditlcu to distinguish. fricm from foes. Coulho trusty messenger found to wvhom 16could conikde the reciouis pledlge of 1at favor to his royal Istress, amid be ce am it could reach her Long 4d he wrestle with rturing doubts iifears, andl after muc flection !he dIe dled to make a confida of thme Count/as of Nottingham. Bhe always -seem tghy manifested a strong terest In him, ni d had constant access t 0 Queen. 1 IAccordingly, shc was sent fo ad Essex I gamve her the ring, and begged r to take oIt to Elizabeth and entreat h oyal par donm for lis olfence. Uiifortunate Essexl The enger he t had chosen In ti dark hour espair anti I -agony was a secret and bitt enmy. As 1 fsoon as the Countess of N gham had < gained the ring, sihe hurried i It to her ~ ahusband, and they amutual ed to con- t Iceal the ing and never r ia to the a 5Queen that it lhad been sea a In tihe meantime, Eliz 1. the great 'l asovereign of England, wva rely agitated c d and sorrowfinl. Bheo had y sIgned the r f death-warrant of the E f Essex, but a ii without designing h s ex >n. ils rich c - and versatile talents and uifold attrac- c 1. tlons had won her affecti nd she anx- 1. G bous to save him. He I er pledge of a past favor-the ring-an royal prom- a Iso tha, when she we ehold it, It e would en sure pardon for offence. Why a ~did lie not return it to lis conduct was unaccountable. d this high- I an spirited nobleman prefo uffer an. Igno- r " minious death on the Id rather than s .- ask lemxency. a h Thiere was no solut the mystery; a and asthe hers p ** mOneeger' - K.:: - V . appeared before the Que hearing the ex pected ring, her heart. gr hard and cold toward Essex, and she :teriuined never, unasked, to revoke the s itence of death. Time went on. Eliza th was suffering the keenest anguish. at she could not fathom the surprisi:.g bstinacy of her favorite courtier. Esse. too, was hope less and despairing. lie clt that his doouh was sealed. The Queen ad received the ring, but it had failed to waken any teel ings of pity or mercy wi in her, and ho could see no way of delis rance. The hour for the exc ition of Essex came. Acconimanied by strote guard he was conducted to the seal Id. The heads mn was there. and a cro -d of malignant, blood-thirsty people, an. >us to. see hiimt die. The fortitude of Esse did not desert him in this awful hour. 'alinnly he laid his head on the block. te axe fell, and the envied, brilliant Esse. was no more. The tidings of Essex' death quickly spread. Thongh he had inny ri v tts and enemies plotting his ruin, he heart of the nation 'as true and fait ful to him, and the people were amazed a d horrilled. The soul of Elizabeth w shrouded with gloom, but she adroitly co ccaled her griuf under a mask of gayety. The days and weeks co 'inued to come cnd go. The Countess of 'ottingham grew ill. A terrible secret wa butied in her breast, and Its poison wa slowly destroy ing her. Her guilt robbe her life of all joy and light. It was eve before her in all its hideousness and blacl tess-a terrible accuser from which she ould never es Cape. Daily and hourly her liness increased' Neither medical skill nor he most careful nursing availed anythint. 1er anguish was dreadful. As her eti approached her remorse was unconqner:, >le. Again and again she called for Elizit>etlh, and a mes senger was sent to summbn the Queen. In feeble, broken acdents, the dying Countess disclosed to her her fatal seeret,. Without any con?ealnent she confessed "that the Earl of Essex had entrusted her with the ring, to convey It to hler; but at the instigation of her husband she had kept it, and could not (lie in peace without her forgiveness." When informed of the truth, the rage of Elizabeth had no bounds. She seized the art of the Countess, and cried: "May God forgive you, 1 nevet cant" It was a shock from which the Queen never recovered. Ier pledge of affection had caused the death of her much loved Essex, and she could not be comforted. Soon life became a burden. 11er step grew weary and heavy. Ambition was quenched. She becamo hitter and des potic to her people, and her days and nights were passed in tears and groans till deat h releascd her. 11er last act was to appoint James, son of the ill-fated Marv Qnau..of Sco.tlaud, greatest of England'a.soverins.. Si as sembled aroun'l her the most learned* and brilliant men of the times, who contrib uted much to the glory of her reign. She expired in the year 1007, at the age of seventy. A FDPeath )uel. A bloody duel took place recently near Cottowood, Mo., three miles above the Ar kansas line, and about a hundred miles north of Memphis on the Mississippi river, and resulted in the death of bth the com batants. The quarrel was etween two farmers, named A. M. Crock t and Doc. Nichols, and grew oit of ichols' stock trespassing upon (rockett's 1- It. A bit terness grew ur between th n, and one carried his grie. Into the courts. One day they met ai the point menltioned when Nichols corkd out: "You sea I have not yet been arre*sted!" Crockett rep)lied: "I see you haven't, you rascal, and I- propose to wh It out of you right here!" Nichols said/All rtghlt; you just wait till I fix this coffeon my mule aind I wvill join you in ty little gamne'' Crockett quietly await d Nichols mnovetments until b:>th mIen met. Crockett drewv a large pot.ket-knife, while Nichols displayed a dirk, or bowie knife. 'The bloody wyork began at once, and( bloodi flowed like water from the wounds each stroke of the deadly weapons made In thei bodies of the antagontists. Crockett finally got In a stroke on Nichols' neck wvhich severed the juguar vein; having previous ly cut his tongue conmpletely out. Nichols fell dead by the side of Crockett, who lay on the ground compllletely exhausted from loss of blood. He survived his wvoundls only four hours. No one saw the desper ate conflict, but a passing neighbor reached the plac, a few mlomlents before Crockett, diedl, from whom he learned the above par iculars. The gentleman did all lie could 'or Crockett, but lhe had received his leath blow. Ont Nichols' hody thirteen hvound(s had been inflicted, while on Crock itt were. eighteen. It is stated that the ipot where they fouit bore evidences of long and most terrible conflict. 1Bath non leave families, flint of,Nichols con Isting of his wife and eighlt children. Both vere respeccted b~y thleir neighbors, but ~rockett was considered a dangerous quar 'elsome man, while Nichols was a peaces do and very quiet neighbor. Frmt Drying Sly Cokd RBla An experIment was madie at at fouindry In ~lacerwilleo Inst week, In fruit curing, by last of cold air. In this experiment about peek of sliced apples were placed In a love and stibjected to a cold blast for three *nd a half hours in the cupola furnace of heo foundry, and the fruit is reported to1 ave been completely and beautifully cured y tile treatment, remaining soft and with ut the elighest discoloration, We were boult to say dried, but cured is a betteri vord, for there wrs none of that hard, harsh tifl dryness aboeut It which frequently re tilts from drying by sun heat or fire heat. 'he experIment was a atost gratifying sue ess, anid Iin our judgment is frauight with usults of great importance to the growers: nd manipulators of fruIt. The blast of old aIr completely frees the fruit from its xcess of moisture, with no possibllity of urning or shriveling It. Compared with an dryinig, It effects a great saving of time nd labo,r. Compiired with fire drying, it fleets a great saving of expense, attentiona nd risk. Anybody who can command or evise a strong blast of cold air, can dry 1 ruit in a superior-we might say perfect anner, wlt.hout being dependent on the reather and waiting on the slow process of an drying, and without the more expen lye resort ts fuel ad the risk of ov*rhaat I 'Ihe Dluke of Edinlurah. At anl early hour the )uke of Edinburgh Is mostly to be found reading or writing In his own morning room-ta snug apartneut, which like all the others in the house is comfortably, not luxuriously, furnished. Deformed ats it is by exterior hideousness, Eastwell supplies an excellent iustance in favor of those practical people who insist that houses were not made to be looked at, but to be lived in. The rooms are well disposed for the purpose of circulat ion, and those in use every day are on the ground floor. Dining-room, m usic-room. drawing roomse, morning-rooms and boudoir are all en a level, and are therefore deliciously convenien t and coinfortable, full of air and light. Two other apartments on the first floor are of especiil interest to the select circles visiting it Eastwell. These are the day and night nurseries, absolute mol0 dels of what such apartments should be. To begin with, they are of immense size, perfectly lighted and ventilated, furnished with light iaple and cane furniture, and completely free from the stulTness of deep carpets and rugs. In a corner of the dlay nursery is t military tent, a birthday pre sent from his father to Prince Alfred, and is treasured accordingly. It is a Spartm kind of an edifice, of gray-striped material, with a plhin deal table and a stool-the kind of tent that der alte "ritz, who did not like dandy ollicers, loved to see his own ensconced in. Before a brightly-burn ing tire is one of those good old-fashioned brass tire-guards, several feet high, and to the left of this the cots of the four little children are arranged. The two youngest, ired with the morning promenade, are fast. asleep; but the little Prince is obviously already outgrowing the idea of going to be d at midday, for he is laughing merrily at the joke of being tucked up again after htis glorious run with black "Prince.'' ittle Princess Marie, with her shower of fair hair spread over tho pillows and her great blue eyes only half open, is a delight ful subject fo: a paieter---a tiny sleeping beauty in the prettiest of woodlands. '1'his mid (lay rest is part of the regular programme at Eastwell, and appears to be successful, if one may judge by present results, for finer and heavier children of their age than Prince Alfred and his sisters could hardly be found. At. midday the Duke of Edinburgh has got through his serious reading, and per haips somc practicing for the family mutsical party of the evening, and is ready for a drive round the park, which is beautiful and Spacious enough to afford ample scope for any species of out-door entertainment. In the afternoon friends arrive from the country side, from London, from Paris and from tit. Petersburg. Laike the majority of those who prefer a small circle of friends to the crowd and noise of large assemblies, England's Sailor Prince is thoroughly al preciated by all who know him. lie is emphatically what is called a quiet man his taste for music and serious etudi's, he is completely English in his domestic life. No man is more pleased with the perfect working of his establishment-from the metropolitan inspeector, who, wit it a brace of constables, keeps watch and ward at Eastwell to the clerk who attends his pri vate telegraph oflice. Old habits of disei pline picked up on the Galatea, and con firimed by recent experience afloat, cannot be lightly shaken off, although the sportive humor of early days may have died out. Like his brother, the Prince of Witles, the Duke of Edinburgh likes good things in reasonable qr.antities, and is a stealy oppo nent of the termtan custom of turning dinl ner into a wearisonte ceremony, protracted beyond all reasonable limit by a cumbrous menu. At the little dinners at Eatstwell there is no bewildering number of dishes, but a good, straightforward bill of fare, which may be eaten through with perfect enjoymet.t. flare things, however, ap~pear at these mtodest banquets--dishes theo niere metntion of which sets the gourmand tagog -wvild boiar fromt the forests In whtich Ar mtinius brought the Rtomant legionts to naught and sterlet fronm distatnt Volga. The sterlet, whicht Is to the sturgeon ats a smelt is to a whiting, arrives on somto lucky (lays at Easetwell p)i.cked it Ice. Th'le eating of htutn is a species of celebration, and very good itd(eed he is when 'aecommnodated' after the getnuine Rutssiant fashin. As a rule, music follows dlitner at Eastwell; but at timets--ont the (lays, for instance, wvhen the .Revue dea D)cux Afondca arrives-the D)uchess of Edinburgh, who reads a great deal int several laniguages, will return to lter boutdoir, to learn thte last wvords of the French autthors, whomt she knows as thto roughly as the Russian poets and novelists whose wor-ks ar'e to be found wherever sho is. There are nto late htours at Easrtwell; the life it which is siply that of the young p)ar-ents of ant Interesting family, who find fair qiet and sweet rest among the Kenitish wvoodlands. Observ'atory Ott Mount Etuna. The Italian Governmtient, is about to con struct a large observatory on Mount Etna. A sIte has been selected at a heIght of 9,6152 feet above the level of flhe sea, near the Pasta dlegl' Inglesi, so called frott a butilding erected there in 1811 by the En glisht durintg thdr oecutpation of SicIly. T1heo purity of the atmosphere is so great at Its elevatilon thtat the planets can be observe'd with the naked eye almost as well as with telescop)es of low power through the thick atmnosp)here of towvns. Ventus, when shtininig alone in the hteavens, casts a disetincet shtadow. Tis will be the second loftiest observatory in the wonrd, the UnIted Statcs sIgnal station at Pike's Peals, In Colorado, st an elevation of 14,836 feet. being the loftiest statIon, Arabinan Proveu .bs. If your stomach is ntot strong, do not eat -onchtes. If one cannot build a house, he builds a ilhed. A hald-headed person does not care for a -azor. The thread Is quito accustomed to fol low thle pathI of the reedle. T1he solo of the foot Is exposed to all the 11th of the roadl. Tfhe pot-lhd Is always badly off; the pot1 fets the swveet and the lid gets the steam. Withouit powder a gun Is only a rod, le who waits for chance wvill htave to valt a year. ~ HIe whuo marrIes a beauty, marries trou >lO. Thtough a man may mtiss other things, ho aever misses huis mouth.. We wake, and find mtarkce on the palmi if our hand, but we know not who madea hem; we wake, and flnd an oldi debt, and hant ramaomhar how we Inurred It f 114ealthy and Unhealtity Occupattou 'l'here Is suid to be dust everywhere, but w lhat constitutes dust is variable material. Many oceul'ations, the working of libres no less than the working of metals, develop dutst and seriously alect the lungs. Iron often settles theie. A workman, who had polished iron, died, and his lungs were found to be hardened and actually one per cent. of iron in their substance. Urinding, particularly needle-grinding, is very fatal. These griners die a the average of 31. The grinding of other metal products is un healthy, but to a less terrible degree, and grinders are proverbially neglect ful or proper precautions. Making ground glass is a hard life, and hardly any of the workmen at it are sound. Thirty-live per cent. (lie of consumpt ion, and many lose t heir teeth and suffer virtual lead poisoning. Diamond cutters are generally sick men. Vegetable dust is unhealthy, too. The men who pre pare moulds for castnigs sprinkle them with powdered charcoal. They have finally a catarrh with black expectorations, and (ie of the disease. Millers do inot suffer from inhaling dust, but they have a singular skin disease, oftnest affecting the left shoulder, where they carry meal bags. It itches at night only, and, according to some authorities, is not a vegetable matter but an insect. Making brushes is very bad for the health, as bits of bristle go into the lungs. In button making bone dust is not injurious, but mother of pearl Is, very. Feather handling Is exceedingly had for the lungs and throat, and for the eyes, and arbiticial tlower inkini brings poisoning with it. Working in copper actually makes the hair green and the teeth and it. is said the bones, but it is not. injurious. Copper is seldom worked alone and what is called copper poisoning is probably lead poison ing. Seanst resses s flic ffrom poisoning from the stuffs they work. They also hurt their eyes, but the sewing machine, it is now held, is rather a benefit than any injury if used only a few hours a day. It is the all day work at it in had air that has given it its had name. Tobacco-working involves a week or two of sickness at first, but this is overcome, and after it, the wot kmuen are said to be particularly free from epidemic disenscs. Ilowever its effects upon women are said to be permanently had. There is a great lack of children with them. Bleach ing is a cause of serious trouble from eczema, which comes from the hot water an,d lye, which also gives washerwomen oracked handsand eczema. Ninety per cent. of the people employed in preparing suIl phitto of -quinine are taken down with severe eczematous troubles'and often high fever. ''his is a disease that overcomes new workmen and which they only have once. Gasmen also have skin troubles from the violent sweating brought on Ity the heat, and changes of temperature also develop rheumatism. There is no bron chit is or lung troubles among them. The only way in which mirrors can he made Is by using silver and letting quicksilver alone, but considerable can be done in Im, prove the conttiion of mercury workers If they can be made to keep clean, and not to eat in their workshops. Match2s in every house and every pocket are made at a terrible cos!. Match-makers (not matri monial, but material), have their intellects dulled by the fumes they inhale and suffer dreadful necrosis of the jaw. No one with impel fect teeth can make matches and not loose his jawbone and teeth. Working in rubber produces "rubber poisoning," which is accompanied by catarrh and eczema and is marked by a singular developmtent of despondency, that leads to dispair and the abancdonment of the work, after which recovery conies naturally in. It is a singu Iar fact that offensive odors are not un healthy. Tanners are proverbally well. In chtolcra plaques tanners are exempt. Butchers hardly ever know what consump tion is. Even scavengers of the lowest order are very well, and stables boys aro notori ously healty. The lIngonious Elephant. Thme duke1( of Argyl in his "Reign of Law" was, 1 think, the first who promulgated the dictumli that man is the only tool-making anilmal. As far as I can ascertain, this as sertion is adhmitted by dievelopmenitists, yet It is undioubtely true that the Indtiaii eleph ant, makes two implements, or foroms and alters certain things so as to adapt them es pecially to fulfill dlefiniteopurposes, for whichi, uinaiteredh, they w~oukhi not be0 suitable. One evening, soon after my arrival in EIstern Assam, andI while the fiye elephants were as usual beiing fed opposite the bungalow, I observed a young and lately caught one step up to a ban.boo-stake fence, and quietly pull up one of the st akes. Placing it tunder foot, it, broke a piece off with its trunk, and after lifting It to its mouth, threw it awvay. It repeated this twice or thrice, and then dlrowv another stake and began agaIn. See. ing that the bamboo was old and dry, I asaed the reason of this, and was told to walt and see what It would do. At last it meemedl to get a piece that suiitedl, andt hold lng it in the trunk firmly, and step)ping the left fore-leg well forward, passed the picce f b)amboo under the arnipit, so to speak, mdn b)egan) to scratch wvithi some force. My iturprise reached Its climax when I saw a arge elephant leech fall on the ground, quit. lix machues long and as thick as one's fInger, mnd wvhich, fromt its position, could not eas ly be detached without this scraper, or scratchi, which was deliberately made by .he elephant. I subsequently found that t was a common occuirence. Leech scrap rs are used by every elephant daily. On mother occasin, when traveling at a time >I 3 ear when the large flies are so torment ng to an clephiant, I noticed that the one I ode had no fan or wisp to beat them off ,vith. Thme mayhnut, at my order, slacken d pace, anid allowed her to go to the sIde >f the read, where for some moments shte noved along rummaging tihe smaller jungle in the bank. At last she came to a clusto f young shoots well branched,, and af ter cing among tb'.sm, and selecting one, 'sised her trtnk and nearly stripped down lie stem, taking off all the lower branches nd leaving a fine bunch on top. he do Iierately cleaned lt down several times, then1 mying hold at the lower end broke off a ceauti ful fan or switch about five feet long, adle included: Wh thia she kept the lies at bay as we went alonig, flapping them >ff on each side every now and then, Say vhat we may, these were both really ixmna ide Implements, ea'ch inter-gently made di' a definite purpose. Modesty in your furnituto, equipag nd words will show than your nin utis roil rogulated, and your heart free rom-nanslin. 1OOD FOR THOUGIIT. There are M hole r:ce" of people who have Ia genits for wretehudness; It conwse to 1 Ihem ats at Vocation. 'The real e'ameleon is a sensitivb van ity, prone to change color with every chanice of' Surrounding. The faithful ddischarge of at duty disa gr:cable to others Imaketli the heart of the righteous to rejolce. )ues it rejected lover ever think that the woinan las done quite mo well for her own interests ats shte might? It is better to be doing the most in signill:aiut, thing in the world than to reckon a lhalfl' anl hour n1 riglllIiatit. The loss of friend is like that of a Ilamb, time ninay heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired. Perverse human natUire makes it com Imoll to pull down iti man's good name while he lives and build it up tfter he is deaal. 'I'hero is nothing so blind as love, there is nothing so given to seeing. It will get evet troit heavon to the vision it seeks. What young mal of twenty-five is insinsibie to the pleasure of talaing wit-it a bright girl ot'seventeen for a lis toner? Metaphors are often lamps which light nothling, and mtow oeily nakedness of the walls against which they are ltun1 . 'I'e body may rest through the sleep of' the nlight.; but, the pour mind works as hard li dreams as it. did through the watketul day. * Metory can gleam butt, never renew. It, brings us jny 'al lit as the pert lime of the flowers, lialdi and dried, of the sttmnuer thtat, is gone, Labor without ceasing to do all the good in your power while time is al lowed you, for the night will come whetl no ian can work. The man who possseR a passionate and revengefl temper Is deprived of reason, an! all tlhat is great anid noble in his taature is suppressed. Beware of prejuidices; they are like rat.-t anid tnen's minds ar'e like traps. Prejndices creep in easily, but it is doubtful if they ever get out. Ioti't despise the small talents; they are needed as well as the great, ones. A candle is sometimes its useful as the 'lThe greatest evils In life have had their rise lroi something which was thotiiht to be of too little Importance to be attended to. Wliu yvou are lown-l+earted and the wvorli looks black to you, you ought to ba hiospitable enough to entertain a hope of bueter lays. It Is. after till, the person who stakeR the lit,iit. who Loses most. In the ifree tions this is wholly true. He who risks notlitig, loses evury.hing. 11hat an argument in favor of social connectlons is the obserention, that by oi 01111unicatin our griefs we have loss, and by comminleting our pleasures we have more. Wit loses its respect with the good when seen In comipauy with malice; atn1 to sii le at a jest which plants a thorn in ano'ther's breast, is te become a principal in the tnishief. The end( of satire is the amenidment of vices by cot rutptioi ; and he who writes hloiestly is no more an offender thnn the physician to the patient when lie prescribes harsh romuellea. If love 11(1 aftee ion could be won wit.h gifts and jewels, then Indeed love wouhl have Its price; but It is not so. Afl'eetion springs from the heart, only; no gif's can proc.uce it. A child's love Is woni moret' tr'uly h)y ai parenCit's fondl etmbrace and kiss than wilth glittering toys. lIe who conmes fron the kltohen smells of' its smoke; he who adheres to ia sect. hast someithinug of lts-eatnt; theo college airt purisues the student, anid dry lihuanuity him 'rho herds with literary'3 pedatts. Let us5 tive as1 men whao are sometime to grow l, and to whom It will be the most dreadful of all evIls to count their patst y'eara by loirmer iluxuiance of hecalth onuly by the matladles wvhich rIot has priodu Lce. G3ood words do umore than hatrd speech es; as fthe stanbeamis wvithout any noIsg wIll malike tihe tr'aveler citst oir his cloak wvhich all1 the blusterling wvind could ntot do, but only make lhim bend It clos er to hun11 Th'le damps of autumn sink Into the Leaves antd prepuare them for the naees shy of' their falli; anid thtus Insensibly tire we, as years close around us, do htchied from our tenia-.Ity of' life by the g~entle pressure of' recoided sorrow. If you would relish food, labor for it before you cake It; if enjoy elothing, pay for it bef'ore you wear It; If yos woul sleep) soundly, take a cleariOon solenace to bed with you. Evil thoughts are worse enemies than lion18 and tigers, for wve can keep out of their syay; but bad thoutghits wine ~teir way every where; keel)your head ind hear't full of good thtoughts, that bad ones may ftind nto room to enter. That poliey that enn strike only while Lhe ironi us hot will be overcome by tha' serseverance which, like Cromwell's ian umake the iron hot by strIkIng; and rio that can only rile the storm must yield to him who can both raise and rule It. Trhere is gold In the rooks whioh rrinige the pass of' the kFpinigen, gold iveni in the stones whieni mornds the roads5, but there Is too httle.of It to ti avoirth extracting. Alas! how like too nany books and sermons. Not so the mcrptures. They are much finer gold -their very (dust Is prelious. In the decline of life, shtame and grlof are of sh,ort duration; whether It ..;. >O that we beatr easily what we have orno lottg, or that, finding ourselves n age less regard(ed, weo less reAar'd uthers; ,or, that we look with slight 'eigardl upon affiltions, to whieh we mnow that the hantId of deoath is about o put an end. The life that is devoted.to knowld 'g asses siontly atway, and Is very lifte Ilversideod by events. To talk In pub. ho, to thtihmi In solItude, toe d.si * ear, to Inquire, and t$ (as*~hQ Os, Is the business of oJoA \ vanidei'8 about the *rrJ id h~i alned 'but