Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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g"WC. .... . S , A U 5 1 V. "- 94.. RI-WE:"EKLjY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., AUGUS 5, 180mO. V-O9 . THE ONE CERTAINTY. Lightly I hold my life with little dread, And little hope for what may spring there fron). But live like one that builds his Bummer's home For coolness on a dried-up river bed. And takes no thought for frescoed blue or red, To paint the walls, and plans no golden dome, Knowing the flood, when Autumn rains are come, Shall roll its raving waters overhead. And wherefore should I plant my ground and sow P Since, though I linow not of the day or hour, The Conquerer comes at last, the alien foe Bhall,come to my defenoeless place In power, With force, with arms, with ruinous over throw, Taking the goods I gathered for his dower. The Sister of Mercy. In the chamber on the first floor in the Avenue Montaigne, a woman was dying. From the apartment itself, which was al most empty, it would be diflicult to dis cover to what class of society the (lying woman belonged. The salon was empty. Not a single piece of furniture remained in It. Some old blue velvet curtains were still hanging at the windows, doubtless be cause the brokers had disdained to take them. It was old velvet, yellow at every crease, and eaten away by dust. In what had,been the dining room, there remained only a dilapidated cane-seated chair and a little table of white wood, covered with bottles of all kinds. On the floor were two or three dirty towels, still wet, a sponge and a chipped salad bowl, that served as a washing basin. The bed-room was evidently the only room that the bailiffs had spared. There, a threadbare carpet still covered the floor. At. the foot of the bed was a large amix chair placed as if it were a sentry-box. The stuff curtains had been left, but a practiced eye would have seen by the rents in the muslin curtains that a rapacious hand had torn away the lace. Two billets of wood were smoking sadly in the fireplace, having for sole companion a kettle, from which emerged two or three leaves covered with a white foam. The room was lighted from a sanded courtyard in the midst of which a close-cropped grass plot humiliated itself at the foot of an reacia. The leaves had fallen ; the black, inaried branches, twisted into knots, were vaiting for the rays of spring in order to put on a little verdure. .Madeleine," murmured the sick woman, "I am thirsty." A woman of some fifty years, who was standing by ther window, caie up to the bedside and poured a few drops of potion into a glass. Then she raised the head of her mistress, approaching the glass to her lips, and said: "Does Madame Ia Comptesse suffer much ?" "Yes, there is fire there," replied the sick woman, placing an emaciated hand on her breast. The woman, who was dying thus in a de serted and desolate room, was no other than i he Comptesse de San Castelii, about whom there was so much talk a few years ago. Now, of her past luxury, there remained only an Indian shawl of a reddish brown, embroidered with gold, in which she wrapped herself up for want of a bed cover. The success of the Countess in the world of fashion had not been forgotten, and more than one European Prince still keeps a me dallion in which the features of the fallen idol have remained young and smiling. To day her black hair seems to fatIgue her enfeebled head with its weight ; life has already retreated from her hollow cheeks and pale'brow. A dry and jerky cough tears her bosom; at the age of thirty-five dleath has marked her ashia own. A sovereign, who had enriched her, had left before her for the regions where go thme souls of those who have souls. The Prince X., her third loved, has ruined himself and dlisappeared. The Banker L., who had given the Countess her hotel in the Avenue Jena, can no longer even pay his margins at the Bourse. It is only by a miracle that lie has been able to escape the hand of the law. He was not dieclaredl a bankrupt pecrsonally,but the company that he directed has gone to join the swarm of companmes that are of no account. Ranoul is ini Africa with his reginment ; Gontran is married; Adrien has disappearedl. A hurricane of ruin has blown upon all her old adiorers. The two or three who have held out have been wearied by repeated requests for money ; another is placed in such an ele vatedl position that lie is unapproachable. The Countess has sold her jewels, one by one, and after her jewels her toilets, andl after her toilets her furniture. She has still but one only friend, Dr. D--, whose fortune she madle, but Dr. D--- himself, whose fortune has been en croached upon by unlucky speculations, has scarcely anything to live upon0f but the iiicome obtainedi from his p)ractice. Still he comes to see the Countess every morn ing, afld after each visit hie leaves a louis on the corner of tihe chimney p)icCe. 1t is this daily louis that has hitherto kept the Coun t.eas andl her chambermaid. Madeleine, who has seen the horses and arriages and( dliamondis, w ho eimmbers the dlays when thme Countess had fiftein servants aInd fifty admirers, cannot believe that these tImes will not return. As for the husband of the Countess, lie never knew lis wife. The marriage was ar rangedi by the Prince do M--, and a post of three thousand francs a year was given to the ruined descendant of a great family in exchange for lis title. lIe saw lis wife dluring the marriage coremoiiy, t,ben lie took possession of lis post, and sometimes read w ith medliocre Interest in the newspapers that the Comitesse do San Castelli was ob taining great success at St Petersburg andl at Paris. It did not seem to him that she was his wife, anid whein lie was questioned on the subject thme Count rep)liedl coldly:. "I believe that she is a relatioii who has turned out badly. Madeleine had passedl more that thirty nights In the large arm-chalr at the font, of her mistress' bed. Thme doctor said.: "That woman needs rest. There are Sisters of Charity who have imposed upon themselves the mission of watching over the s-ck, will send one here to-night." At six o'clock a little sharp atuli rattlling noise was heard, produced by a bell-rope pulliug a broken spring. Madeleine went and opened the door. TheSister of Charity sli followed her. s "Here are the potions," said Madeleine t "this one every ten minutes, that one every hour. Ther3 Is still a little wood in the corner." Madeleine went to share the bed of 'a a4 chambermaid, a friend of hers, who lodged In a neighboring hotel, anfi the ister ofPl Charity took her seat at the foot of the bed. Mine. d San Castelli asked to drink. She sister raised her head gently ; then the sick woman, instead of drinking, fixed her large black eyes on the face of the Sister, a "How eld are you?" she asked. t "Eighteen years, madame." ti The Countess nurmured to herself "Eighteen years !" drank greedily, and re- od sunied, as she let her head fall back on the i pillow :at "Do you know that I am going to (lie ?"s "They did not tell me so, Madame; per- flo haps there is still a possibility of saving it you." ,t, "Saving me I" cried the Countess, with 'T i'ony, "and why? Life means youth and pa beauty. I an already dead, my child." The Sister opened the book of her order du which she had brought with her and began of to read. be This young girl had the most charming Wi face that artist ever dreamed of. Hers was an improbable beauty, shining forth with ne sweetness and holihess. Tle white band th that confined her pure ivory brow hid her Or hair, leaving visible only her eyebrows, TI which might have been traced with Indian er ink, so delicate and correct were their lines. fla The Cointesse de San Castelli contem- tho plated her with admiration aind envy. Sud- ne denly she exclaimed: "Are your vows eternal ?" r "Yes, Madame." "What is your name ?" "ister Rose de Lima." ex "But your family name ?" "It, is forbidden us to reveal it, Mad ime.'' "Why ?" "It is the rule of the order." at '"Still, you IIIIy tell Ie if Ym have any lik parents ?" a I "None, Madame." int "Your mother ?" fliit "I never knew her." it "Your father?" gre "le Is (lead." be Wearied with so perbistent an investi- of gat'on Sister Rose (1e Liima asked gently if ] she would have a little tisaue. lab "No, thank you," replied the countess, a and then suddenly she added(: "You are more dead than I am, young girl I To- or morrow, perhaps, a spadeful of earth will lie bury even my memory, but I have had of ] life all that life can give. You will only for have known walls, bars and silence-dry ist bread, prayers and austerity. When I en- the tered a salon I used to raise a murmur of drc admiration as I passed along. I have made I queens and princesses weep with rage. The an horses pranced at my door and adorers tol crowded my staircase. I have worn on my suc brow a diamond that Semiraimus would I have envied, and I have melted more pearls spi than Cleopatra. Noise, movement, luxury, (10 flattery; all that I have exhausted, with- yo, out departing from an inflexible motto : 'Sinne, seduce, and love not.' Poor young to girl, you might have all. that if you the wished-" doi The Sister of Charity rose: cht "What are you talking about, Madame? ho Do you not see what these vanities are? sal, You have had all that, and I am happier saN than you are. If I had need of consolation, the tile history of Mary, the sister of Martha, would suffice. For me a contemplative life lil3 has replaced an active life. In the depths int of my solitude I love to lose myself in mute blc adoration, and I forget the world that iu passes in view of the worlt which does not bet pass." sm The voice of the young nun had assumed th a sonority full of enthusiasm. mii "Just now," she added, "you spoke to j me of my fat'her. I receivedl his last sIgh let: and his last benediction. I cultivate that ti'i cherished souvenir like a precious plant, Tc and I should fear to see it withered outside cut of the retreat, that I have chosen. som Mine. do San Castilli interrupted her: "Vanities, did you say? And what is ski life without its cortege of pleasures ? In hum- ll man passions there is sometimes a mixture car of tile gigantic. To be beautiful is to reign. the A cavalier who lcvedl me killed himself at mv feet ; he gave me there what lhe would exl hlave given to no other. I have been adored rep like a goddess of antiquity. To make one's rec self the rival of God is something high and an< terrible. Little as our life is, it is enlarged fe by pleasures, and takes a peculiar inplort- wh ance by tIhe profusion of our disdains andl joy tile mber of our victims I" Sister Rtose (10 Luna p)laced 1her handis on bra the Countess' lips as if to arrest her wordls- da' "You are feverish," ehe said. "You blaspheme and pain me." a, Mmne. doe San Castelli seemed to reflect. "Nevertheless, I have loved. 1 have loved once in my life. I was sixteen. What has beeomie of hunm? I was carried away in tile whirlpool of life. But if hie were here nlo my life wouldl be sweeter.Open01 that casket, il 1 pray you, Sister. Here are my p)apers- th My certificate of birth-Florence, 10OcI totber-Marla Thieodorai DasI." 0 Ochi The Sister advanced slowvly toward tile bed, holding out nor hands. wc "Tile man whom you loved," she nmur- 01) mnured, ''was namedl Gabriel ?" bri ''Yes," cried the (lying woman, "Ga. N briel (1e Beryla. Ilow do you know that ? lie "It, was lie who brought me up." wc ''Your father ?" wi "'Gabriel de Ilervls." tl The Countess conitlnuedl wildly: , "'You were born in italy. lie brought you to Francee after my treason-and lhe is h deadi I' tib Th'le p)oor woman sobbed0(. Sister Rlose (de toi Limna hadl fallen on her knees andi id~denit her face in her handls. Th'le Countesspeized E" her and covered her with feverish, p)assion-* ate kcisses, dr ''You (1id not, then, know who I wvas a when you came here ?" I "My father never pronounced the namue ev of Castell." th "'Trute ; for himii I was neoter anything "t but Tlheodora D)atl. But tell me,. .howth no ''le died with one hand in mine and then other in that of his best, friend-an 01(1 man sor -a prlest.' wr 'rho Countess raised lip her daughter. "You are my redemption," she eried. i "I dlie in peace. Go, fetch me that old(f tman.'' ________________li -An IdElsi~irs oa80 fire- Op proof safes iI Tur key boeo it was as- "( certainmed thlat the filling was ouly saw- to dilRt. oh The Water Lily. Dowu in the depths of the river near the ore where the mud and slhie were not rept away by the current, grew a humble ant. The flags pressed about It, and rust their leaveslike green swords through o water up Into the brightness and pure , and the eel-grass made a tangled net )rk above It. No one expected the little ant to amount to much. But lying there In the ooze, It thought: 'he water is luminous over my head. icre is more brightness above than I have d. ,The flags and the rushes swaying d fluttering up there whisper together of o warm south wind, the gray clouds, and glory of the sui. If I otly could rise! I only could!" By-and-by the plant sent forth a leaf, an d, round thing like a fan, and slowly it led the leaf oi the summit of its flexible mi toward the surface of the water. "Ho01 11 Ho" laughed the polliwogs, uncing by, "what a droll leafl When gets to the surface, and we are frogs, rill be a fine seat for us while we sing, rick-sa-trix, Trick-sa-trix,' and our ok( pa plays the trombone." "Pray, don't be too pushing." said the ckweed. "You're as well off as the rest us. A plant of your condition ought to modest. Don't be too pushing; no good Il come of it." The humble plant gave no heed to its Ighbors' comments, but patiently lifted round leaf a little higher each day. e morning it felt a strange electric thrill. c leaf had reached the surface of the riv and the sun shone upon it; and the tall gs parted a little to make room, while iy whispered kindly "Good morning, ghibor." Soon the humble plant found a round, en ball in its bosom. "Ai I this Is a bud," it said to itself. t shall go up to my happy taf, and there )and the loveliness I know is hidden with It. Patiently as it had lifted the leaf the nt lifted the bud toward the sunshine. n'e dreamy summer day went by, and last the round bud opened its sepals, and e a radiant, golden-hearted star of snow, >lossom lay upon the river and looked o the sky. 'lie red-winged blackbirds ting to and fro among the flags, sang of the south wind breathed its spicy fra nce; the tall flags wlspered: "low Lutiful! how beautiful I ' and the hope the humble plant was fulfilled. Bertram Krause was the son of a poor orer. Iis father wanted hii to become mith. "Al i! now, if Bertram could shoe an ox, mend a cart-wheel, that's all I'd ask," would say. 3tut Bertram had different aspirations himself. IIe wished to become ani art and paint great pictures like tiose in cathedral, into which he often stole to am and hope. NVith a bit of charcoal he could sketch ,thing, and the lads thought it fine sport )e his models; but his father declared h idling wicked, and said: 'Who are you, Bertram Krause, to do se honest work such as your father has ie all his life? You will never be worth ir salt." )ne day, Bertram went to the river bank ,ut flags. le worked industriously all morning, and at noon, when he sat vn upon the shore to eat his bread and ese, lie was hot, and after Jie had eaten stretched himself upon the grass and fell ,ep. When lie awoke the first thing he i was a w ater-lily shining white anmong flags. 'Hurrah!" he cried, "Hurrali! a water !" and quickly springing up, he waded a the water and picked it. With the ssomn came the long, trailing stem, the d and slime still clinging to It. "This uty is lowly born," lie thought, as he lled its spicy fragrance, and with that rught a plan and a hope came into his d(. lis mother was a quiet woman, who had rued to watch and wvait, and she syimpa ed with, and encouraged his dreains. her he went with his p)lan, aind she pro ed for him a sheet of coarse paperC andl ie crayons. With all the skill lie had, lie drew a itch of the river, tihe flags and the water amidst them and when it was (lone lie riedI it tremblingly to a great artist, in city. {cears irolled awvay and at. the yearly art iibition at Munich a p)icture applearedh resenting a summer sky, a tangle of dIs and flags, a stretch of sullen river, I upon the grassy shore a ragged aare t boy who was holding a water lily at ich he gazed with' a look of love ana 'That," said an artist, ''is by the cec tedl Bertram Krause, and is calledl the vni of ltop)e." Saiuportinag t.he Gunas. )id you ever see a battery take posi Lt hasn't the thrill of a cavalry charge, the grimness of a line of bayonets ving slowly and dleterminedly on, but re is a peculiar excitement about it that kes 01(1 veterans rise in their saddles and er. WVe have been fighting at the edge ot the 0(15. Every cartridlge-box hams been p)tled once and more, and1( a fourth of thme gade has imelted awvay In (lead and( unded and missing. Not a cheer Is iro in the whole brigaide. We know that are being dirivenm foot by foot, and that en we break back once more thme hine .l go to pieces and( tIme enemy will pour ough the gap. EIere conies hielpl D)own the crowded highway gallops a Ltery, withdrawn from sonic other posi ni to save ours. Thme field fence is scat ed1 while you could count thirty, anmd the sa rush for the lill behid( us. Six horses a piece-three rIders to each gun. Over r(ditches where a farmer would not dIrive vagon, through clumps cf bushes, over s a foot thick, every horse on the gallop, 3ry rider lashing his team and yelling sight behind us make uis forget the foe front. Th'le gunms jump two feet high as heavy wheels strike rock or hog, but a horse slackens Is pace, not a can seer loses lis seat. Six guns, six cais ins, sixty horses, eight,y men race for tIhe >w of the lill as If lie who reached It, first uld be knighted. A. moment ago tIe battery was a con ed mob. We look again. aml the-six as are In position, the detached herses rrying away, the ammunition chests an, and along our line runs the comimand, live them one more volley and fall back support tIhe guns I" We bas e searcely iyed when hoom I boom I boom I opnsn the battery, and jets of tire jump (town and scorch the green trees under which we fought and despaired. The shattered old brigade has a chance to breathe for the first time in three hours as we form a line of battle behind the guns and lie down. What grim, cool fellows those cannonecrs arel Every man is a perfect machine. Bullets plash dust into their faces, but they do not wince. Bullets sing over and around them, but they do not dodge. There goes one to the earth, shot through the head as he sponged his gun. 'Tihe machinery loses just one beat misses just one cog in the wheel-anl then works away again as before. Every gun is using short-fuse shell. The ground shakes and trembles-the roar shtits out all sounds from a battle-line three miles long, and the shells go shrieking t brough the swamp to cut trees short off-to mow great gaps In the bushes-to hunt out e.nd shatter and mangle men until their corpses can not be recognized as human. You would think a tornado was howling through the forest, followed by billows of fire, and yet men live th.ough it-aye I press forwhrd to cap ture the battery I We can hear their shouts as they fit.rm for the rush. Now the shells are changed for grape and canister, and the guns are served so fast that all reports blend Into one mighty roar. The shriek of a shell is the wickedest sound in war, but notning makes the flesh crawl like the demoniac singing, purring, whis ling grape shot and the serpent-like hiss of canister. Men's legs and arms are not shot through, but torn off. I leads are torn from bodies, and bodies cut in two. A rounl shot or shell takes two men out of the ranks as it crashes through. Grape and canister mow a swath and pile lie dead on top of each other. Through the smoke we see a swarm of men. It ls not a battle line, but a mob of men desperate enough to bathe their bay. nets in the flame of the guns. Thu guns leap from the ground, aimost as they are depressed on the foe, and shrieks and screams and shouts blend into one awful and steady cry. Twenty men out on the battery are down, and the firing is inter rupted. The foe accepts it as a sign of wavering and come rushing on. They are not ten feet away when the guis give them a last shot. That discharge picks living men oft their feet and throws them intothe swamps, a blackened, bloody mass. Up now, as the enemy are among the guns I There is a silence of ten seconds, and then the flush and roar of more than three thousand muskets, and a rush for ward with bayonets. For what? Neither on the right, nor left, nor in ft out of us is a living foe! There are corpses around us which have been struck by three, four and even six bullets, and no where on this acre of ground is a wounded man!, The wheels of the guns can not move until the block ade of dead is removed. Men cannot pass from caisson to gun without climbing over winrows of dead. Every gun and wheel is smeared with blood-every foot of grass has Its horrible stain. Aerial Navigatlon. A Spanish Artillery oflicer has con structed a new Aerial machine. The ma chinc, which is of considerable extension horizontally, but of very small vertical dimensions, can de made to ascend or de scend at pleasure, and can,according to the statement of the inventor, be turned in any required direction. It consists of two air bags, as they are called by the inventor, one of which is filled with hydrogen gas and the other with compressed air. When the latter is so far filled that its weight, to gether with that of the car and its load, exactly counterbalances the lifting power of the former, the machine naturally will neither rise nor fali. If the compressed air is allowed to escape from its bag the whole weight will be reduced and the machine will rise, the altitude it will attain depend ing upon the amount of comnressedi air liberated. If, on the other hand, it is de sired to make the machine descend, air can, by a simple mechanical contrivance, be puiped into the compressed air-bag until the total weight of the machine ex ceedls the buoyancy or lifting power of the hydrogen ba1g. To change the direction of the machine a rudd(er is providedi, to be worked by a small steam-engine, while by a simplle arrangemnt~ the p)osition of the center of gravit,y of the whole appasratus can be altered so that the resistance of the air shall affect the machine ill the most favorab>le manner possible. The machine, in fact, is designed to act in the same way that a bird (toes. When a bird wishes to change the (direction of its flight it, lowers one wing and raises the other, and as it works the latter rapidly and diminishes the speed of its flight, the resistance of the air on the oblique surface presented to it turns the bird around into the re quired course. In the new aerial ma chine this principle is applied ; but whether it will be possible to overcome the diflculties which may atise remains to be seen. A Salt. Old4 Joke. Bailors are proverbilally jovial ; but they are generally a contented, unambitious class and do not seek to go out of the nar row andt beaten track of the past for their amlusenment. Mo,reover they arc loyal to trad(itionsA of the sea and would prefer a joke the hundred years old, p)rovided it had (lone regular duty during all that, time, to the choicest aceecion in the finest orig inal stock that could beu set. before them. This is not as strange as it, miighit be, for the sailor's life isainot a very variedl one, andt lie misses the myriad suggestions that' excite and stimulate the fancy of the lands man. The sailor is a practical joker, bit his range is about as limited as that of the last surviver of the crew of the Nancy Bell, who would "sit and( croak, and a single joke lie had, whiich was to say," &c. The sailor love his single joke and lhe practices It at odd( Intervals wheniever lie finds1 time hnginig hcavily upon his hanids. It may be caled the boftIte joke, and( the jolly tars are not as simpile as they may seem In rec peating what we might supp)ose would lie too familiar by this time to deceive any one. But the reverse is the fact. Lanid lubbIers are easily implressedl by the mys terIes of 01(1 ocean, and whenever a fresh tale of woe in its water-proof ease of a de letedl grog bott,le is cast overboard, the chances are that it will in t,ime find its way into wvandermng -circles ready to believe anythings that comes back by .his round about, route from those who go 'down to the sea in ships. As long as this ancient sell does its work, why should t,he saIlor fret his braIns to devise anything new for the mystification of credulous and( snp)er stliton lsndsamnn A Poetic License Wantedt. Ile was a tall, square man, with a sh sunburned ncse, an il an unshaven face. wore a chip hat, well sweated througi front, with a rim turned down all arot and a (lark, narrow bit of braid for a bi His butternut pants were neatly tuc: into his cowhide boots, and the thumbi his bronzed hands were thrust into arm holes of his vest. le entered Mayor's oflice with the air of a man of 1: ness, and marching up to la Isonor, a inquiringly: "lie you the Mayor?" "Yes, I have that honor." "Well, I want a licemse for iy dau or, Maria Jane." "Ah, I see; your daughter is about to married and you wish to procure a n ring licensee. We do not issue those I ers here. You must go over on the n side to the county building." "No, 'squire, you are mistaken much mistaken as if you had . burnt y last shirt or had accidhntally got into wrong pew in meeting; butMarlaJane doe want a license to get married, not by means-not by more than consideral She is a darned smart, girl, if she is daughter, and if I do say it, as ha< ought to. She has been keepin' school boarding round up in the persinunon d( trict and writing verses for the Smnn field Weckly uyte. She thinks now givin' up teachin' and devotin' her I thne to literary persoots, and, 'squire, I'm a law-abidin' man and loyal to core-three of my boys went clean throt to the sea with Sherman-'squire, an want to (to the business for the girl on square, and so I called to take out, a )o< license for Maria Jane. You see, V Morrison, who has been to college, t Maria that anybody inust have a lice before lie writ nmch poetry." Here the Mayor's face turned very r as if suffering from some intense inter emotion, and it was observed that. his e were suffused with tears. Ilis secret suddenly approached the Window i gazed abstractedly out upou the trees in tubs, whose emerald branches were gra fully swaying in the summer breeze front of the saloons acros the way. 'l former fixed his cu ious eyes upon Mayor for a moment,who finally sulicic ly recovered himself to say: "My dear sir, your daughter needs license to write poetry. She can write much as ever she pleases, and it will he right.* H is Telephone. "I guess I have to give up my deleph( already," said an old citizen on ral avenue, Detroit, recently, as he entered oflice of the company with a very b face. '"Why, what's the matter now?" "Oh ! efrytings. I got dot delephi In mine house so as I could spheak mit poys in der saloon down town, and mit relations in Springwells, but I haf to i up. I never haf so much droubles." "41ow?" 'Vhcll, my poy Shon, in der saloon, rings der po1 und calls ine oop und s an ol front of mine vhants to see how works. Dot isli all right. I say: "llell un11d he says: "Come closer." I g closer and helloes again. Den he sa "18thand a little off." I sthand a little un(d yells vunce more, und lie says: Spi louder." It goes (lot vay for teii minut und (en lie says: "Go to Texas, you DutchIians " You see ?" "Yes." "And den my bruddir in Springw( lie rings (e pell und calls me oop und sc I vhas feeling like some colts, und lie sa "Who vhants to buy some goats ?" say: "Colts-colts-colts !" und lie i swers: "Oh ! coats, I thought you sa goats. Vhctn I goes to ask him If he fe petter I hears a voice crying out. 'IV] Dmnchmani ishi dlot on (d18 line!" "I1(d0 know, but I likes to punch his heat You see ?" "'Vhell, someimiies nmy vhife vhmants 81phen2k miut nie vhea I am (downi der satot She rmngs mein poll und 1 says, "IlIclloii Nopody sphleaks to mec. She rings ags undl I says "'1lolloI" like duinder! 1I (der Central Office tells mec go ahieadt, r: den tells mein vhife (lot I am gone avhi; 1 yells oudit (lot ishi not so, und1( somnept says, "llow can I talk if dot 0old Dutchmn doani' keep sthill I" You see ?" "'Yes.". "And vhien I gets in pedt at night, sot podly rings der poll like der house vas tire, und( ven I schiumpis oudlt und a hello, I hear somnepody saying: "Kiah doan't you yhant to puy a dlog?" I vhn no dlog, undl when I tells 'em so, I h so;nte boobles laughing "l1aw ? ha w I hit You see. "'Und so you diake it oudt, und vi someopody likes to sphieak mit me dey sl come right avay to momn saloon. Oof brudder ishi sick lie shall get, petter, urn somebody vhiants to piuy me a (log, lie sl come vhcre I can pulnch lhim mit a glul Fishing for Monkeys. WValkinug careless y through their hau I strewedl somel prini upon a place, which I (lug with my knife a few roti holes about four inches dJeep. Comi back to the spot in half an hour I dtropr a gralin into each hole and loft a no< roundl one of them, concealed with oar Theli other end of thme line was in a biu I was there in a short time, aind monmk( were busy picking the grain. An< fellow would look Into a hole and chiatt( others came and looked an(i all chattert lBy and-b.ly a plucky little fellow popped( his paw, and out again. Next time lie i the corn, then others dippod in till tI finishmed that hole. In (lue course they pj to thme noose, with someC chatter and1( 1 same results till the line was pulled. sudden scream, a genecral hiustlo whilei cap)tive was hauled home and enIvelop)ed a hiorsc-rug. By tIs time the troopl1 uip in the trees, screaming and( shaking boughs most G.erociously, following me I went away, with the lost oneo kicking lie was tiredl. I believe tis noose pIar frequently pract,lced. I once caught moankey on the Trimluck 11111 Fort tI fell down the face of the scarps, knock his head against projections till lie a broug(ht up with a thud on a slab. was nearly scnseless when I picked hum No bonies were broken. In a few miu I let hhni go to his relations, who had ne ceased, letting him know where they we lie crawled quietly uip the scarp rock, s seemed1 to be received with anger. Po1 hbly they only wished to know what I bein said to him bmy the fellow withlout talt Talking Twenty-six [ourg, p The longest speech on record is believed to have been made by a member of the I in Legislature of British Columbia, named De nd, Cosmos. It was in the interests of settlers, id' who were to be defrauded of their lands. ded Do Cosinos was in the hopeless minority. of The job had been held back till the eve of the the close of the session. Unless legislation the was taken before noon of a certain (lay the us act of confiscation would fall. The day aid, before the expiration of the limitation Do Cosmos got the floor about 10 o'clock A. M. and began a speech against the bill. Its friends cared little, for they supposed that gh- by 1 or 2 P. Ml. lie would be through, and the bill could be put on its passage. One get o'clock came and went, and De Cosmos ar- was still speaking, Two o'clock-lie was ap- saying, "In the second place." Three o'clock--he produced a fearful bundle of evidence and Insiste(i on reading it. The -as majority began to have a suspicion of the our truth-he was going to speak until noon and kill the bill. For a while they made 311't merry over it, but as it camie on dusk they 110 began to get alarmed. They tried inter Ac. rtiptions, but soon abandoned them because each one afforded himi a clance to digress and gain time. They tried to shout him md down, but that gave him a breathing es- space, and finally settled down to watch he- the combat between the strength of will of and the weakness of body. They gave mull hin no mercy. No adjournment for din s ner: no chance to do more than wet his tile lips with water; no wandering from the Igh subject; no sitting down. Twihght dark I Ieied, the gas was lit, members slipped out, the to supper in relays and returned to sleep in tic squads, but De Cosmos went on. The tie speaker to whom lie was addressing limin old self was alternately dozing, snoring, and 1 trying to look awake. Day dawned, and a majority of the members slipped out to edl breakfast, and the speaker still held on. It k1a can't be saht it was a very logical, eloquent es orsustalned speech. There were digres ry sions im it; repetitions also. But the Lry speaker kept on, and at last noon came to a baIlled majority, livit with rage and in - potence; and a single man who was triunphant, though his voice had sunk to 'lhe a whisper, his eyes were sunken, bleared tIe and blood-shot, his legs tottered under nt- him, and his baked lips were cracked and smeared with blood. De Cosmos had 110 spoken twenty-six hours, and saved the settlers their lnnds. llJewis Coins. The New York collection is chiefly in terosting 11s showing how the coins-from mec the first, struck Simon Maccahmis, from ,lot 140 to 37 B. C., to those coined after the tlie revolts which gave Rome power in the ong Holy Land -improved in artistic qualities. The silver slckels and the divisions of that coin struck by the Maccabees were rude me and bore no figures or images, it being for ler b)dden by the Jewish religion to have im ny ages or 1Idols," on tihe coins. This shekel it was the first coined money of the Jews, though it existed as a value and was men tioned in the Bible before this time. It was lie upon the coin of I lerod Agrippa, the rule lys of whose family succeeded froni B. C. 37 Rhe to A. 1). 100, that tlhe umbrella first. ap. >!" peared. Of the coins of the Roman Pro )es curators, those of Pontius Pilate are chief s: They bore the head of the Emperor Ves off pasian, and were commemorative of the ak captivity of J udea. Then followed in or es, der the coins of the second revolt in 97 A. ld 1). With these Jewish coins of silver and bronze Mr. Fieuardent has arranged sev eral gold and silver pieces of the foreign 11s neighbors of thQ Jews circulated as money ys among the Jews themselves after their re rs turn from Babylon. They bear most artis I tic designs, being portraits of the Em in- perors and figures of warriors on horse dt back, and show the greatest possible im is proveinents in artistic work over the early at Jewish coin. in' ,' Macksnaiithing an Ucisny. In the interior towns and villagesof Gecr many, it has bieein the custom for many to years for the farmer to purchase the iron mn. for his tires and horseshoes, and in somne ini !"stances, when having a new wagoni built, in, to purchase all the iron entering into the len same, the lengths of every piece being fur nid nishied him1) by the smith. One palrt of the my. conltract is that the grmith shahl return (dy to the farmier aill ends and cuttings from ms5 the iron, anid it frequently occnrs that the farmer remains at tihe shop until the iron is all cut up, in ordher that tile sithl shalh not Ic- ind(ulge in too miuchm cabbage. Each smlith on 811(o1 has what is termied ''the hell," and in mys cutting off a set of t,ires, if the farmer lbe er, niot piresent, the largest half of the end( cut nts off finds its way to "the hell,'' the diuty of car putting it there devolvmig upon01 the young wv est aphprentlce. From this always pleintiful store the smith furnishes his materials for the manufact,ure of blolts, horseshoes, etc., eni for transient, customers. Th'le horse shoe all ig part is also a feature ; the farmer will ny bring with 1111n the end of some piece of if ironi or tire, with which to miake the shoes, all or perhaps a dlozen or more 01(1 horseshoes Ii" to be converted into new ones. The farmer nmust blow the bellows until the work is forged or the shoes all miade, aind must tsthen hold( up the horse's foot while the isshioes are being drIven on or taken off, and Onl invariably carries the oldl shoes hiome with nd1( hhin, unless lie prefers to give the old shios in paymenlt for the apprentice's service In 0holing up the feet. -ii Waking-Sticks, *y Walking-sticks for ladies, so we are told 11d lby an oracle of fashion, are coming lnt( r ; favor amgini. Thus doea the whirligig of d. time bIrinig roundl his revenge for a dilscard. ini ed cuistom). The Emplress Eugenie made 0ot the carrying of canes fashionable for her ey sex durihig the gay dlays oIf the secoind Em ot, uire, But iback ini aniother century we find lie the women ap)prcciamtve of th4 walking A stick. L,adies ad(vancedi in life walked lie with a staff between five and six feet in m height, talper aund slender in substance. an tuiriied over at the uipper' end1 in the mailnner lie of ai shiephlerdl's crook, and "twisted as throughout the whole extent." Some ill times these wandls were formed of palegreen is glass, but oftener of woodh, ivory, or a whalebone. A writei'of 1762, speakIng of at the most fashionable sticks of this period, zig says: "D)o not some of us strut about ras with walkings-sticks as long as hickory lie p)oles, or else with a yard of varnished p. cane scrapedl taper, and bound at one end - tes with a wvaxed thread. andl the other tipped rer with a neat Ivory head as big as a silver re. penny?'' it Is, iindeed, as an ap)pendage nd of personal utility that we regard the walk 81- ing-iticks of modernm times, though in al ad ages man has made the sons of the forest a contribute to h!s support undeor wearimess andl old age. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. The best way to judge cashiers and trustees is not from their appearances, but from their disappearances. The "heat of passion" never yet cooked anybody's goose. Anger opens the mouth and closes the eyes. A Colorado man, after being tried and acquitted five times for murder was hung for stealing a $10 horse. No farmer will be mad when the cow kicks over the milk pail. It's when she kicks square against It and upsets it that he's riled. Is It so singular that men so often lie when they find how many enemies they make by telling the truth? A rocking chair is just as necessary to a woman's comfort as a nantlepletcA or window sill Is to a man's. Some magazine writer says, "A woman becomes sensible at twenty five." Then the woman Is about one hundred and thirty years ahead of some men. It is a solemn thought with the mid dle aged, that life's last business Is begun in earnest. No books are so legible as the lives of men; no characteristics so plain as their moral conduct. Always suspect a man who atYeets great softness of manner, an unirtillied evenness of temper, and an enuncia tion studied, slow and deliberate. Egotism often weara the mask of iu mility, and finds more pleasure in talk ing of its own follies, and even vices, than in not talking of Itself. Rhicule, which cIICily arises from pride, a selfish passion, 18 at best but a gross pleasnre, too rough an entertain ment for those who are highly polished and refined. Sensibility is like the stars; they can lead only when tie sky is clear. Rea; son 1s tle magnetic needle which guides the shill) w,hen the stars are wrapt in darkness. Whatever difficultles you have to en counter, be not perplexed, but think only what is right to do in the sight of Ilim who seeth all things, aid bear without repining, the result. Tears do not dwell long upon the checks of youth. Rain drops easily from the bud, rests oil the,bosom of the maturer flower, and breaks (own tlt one only-whIch hlath lived its day. Soap bubbles are airy things, but they soon burst. .list soit is with ina puired up with vanity. They make a show for a season-sall on the currelt, but soon burst, and nothing is left of them. Good breedIng is the result of nature, and not of education ; it may be fomid in a cottage, and missed In a palace. It. Is a general regard for the feelings of others that springs from the absence of all selfishness. 'Tis much easier to meet with error than to find truth; error is on the sur face, truth is hidden fa great depths; and the way to seek it does not appear to all the world. A tender conscience is an estimable blessing; that is a conscience not only quick to discern what Is evil, but in stantly to shun It, and the eyelid close itself against the mote. Be not diverted from your duty by any idle reflections the silly world may make upon you, for their censures are not In your power and consequently ilhouild not be any part of your con cern. A mother who had guided and mouldeu thd lives of a family of chil dren so that they come to all honest, virtuous Christian manhood and wo manhood, has done a work that any woman may be proud of. No man Is more to be feared than the man whio is willing to tell you all lhe knowvs, because the chances are that he will tell you a great deal more than lhe knows. Teacher (to a stupId but fat boy) "You are better fed than taught, or else I'mi mistaken." Stupid boy "Yes, I be, 'cause I feeds myself, and you1 teach me." A young lady who didn't admire the custom In vogue among her sisters of writinig a letter, and the erosswritlino it to illegibility, said she would prefer 11er epistles "without an overskirt." "Man," says Victor Hungo "was the eionuniiiruim of the eighteenth cen tury woman Is tihe conundrLumz of the nine. ,eenth ceutury.'' An American editori &(dds: "We canl't guess heCr, bumt will never give her up-nlo, never I It is said of Sir Isaac Newtoni's nephew, who was a clergyman, th.at I.e always refused aI marriago i'ec, sayiiag wit,h much pleasantrry, "Go your way, poor children, I have done1 you mis .ahlef enough alreadly wilthout taiking your mloiey." A Yankee who had never- Paid more. than a shilling to see all exhibitin wenit to a New York theatre to soc the 'Forty Thieves." The tIcket-seller shiarged him threeshillings l'r a ticker. Passiag the pasteboard back, lhe qu ietly remarkeni. "Keep it, mister ; I don't, war.t to see the other thlirty-ino," anid out lie marched. Keep the tongue from unkindness. Words are sometimes wounds; not very deep wounds always, and yet they irritate. Speech is unkind sometimes when there is no unikindnoss in the leart. So much the worse that needi less woundi(s lare inflicted ; 50 much01 thie worse that unlitentionally pain Is caused. The readiest way to escape from our sufferinigs is to be wIlling they should cuddure as long as God leases. To have sought out onie ne w fact to day is to have three others ini the same cuon nection seek you to-morrow. TIho three Bible types of chiaracter Noah D)aniel and Job,-the le'aruner, the worker and the suff'erer,-submissonm, *iuty, patienee. As no temporal blessing is good enouigh to be a sign of eternal election ; so no temporal afhlctioin is bad enough to be an evidence of reprobat,ion. The gold of the sanctuary must be tried before it Is accepted; and is thrown into the fire, not because it is of no value, but because it is so pre cious. . in Scripture the drunkard's style be gins in lawlessness, proceeds ini til profitableness eWds in mlseiy,; and all shut up inl $It*dqnomnination oi his pedigree, A son of Belial,