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tt TE * -. C .9 A 7 ,18 8 TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORIO, S. C., AUGUST 7, 1880. VOL. IV.-NO. 95. TIME AND LOVE. Yes, sit we down in the old folks' chair Andi watoh we the little ones crow and clamber ; We have woven yew garlands for sunny hair, And put out the lights in the bridal cham ber ; And hand in hand, and with dimming eyes Wait we,- and watch In the dubk together. 0 love, my love of the summer weather, Heart of my hoart, who wtrt once so fair I No more of toiling, no more of spinning, No more heart-boaunga, no more surprise; For the end is foreseen from the first be ginning, The castle is fall't ore its turrets rise Ah, love, my love, it is sad to be wise I But Timo, our master, stands winged and hoary, And seeming to smile as hie whets his b!ade; Whilst Love is whisp'ring the same old st6ry, And Hope seems bhrinking and half afraid; For of ti.ese the measure of youth Is made. And the measure o1 pleasure, the measure of glory . Which is meted out to a human lot: And so on to the end (and the end draws n ater) When our souls may be freer, our senses c!earor, ('Tim an Old World cree. which is nigh for Go), When the eyes of the sleeper i may waken in wonder And the hearts may be joined that wore riven asunler, And Time and Love shall be morged-n what ? Wanted. Martle Woodbridge-her name was Mar tha, but no one called her so-lived on the outskirts of a small village. Her father was a farmer, but not a pros perous one. Nature, with her frost and droughts, was always getting the upper hand of hin, and the crops which he raisea were sure to be those which brought the lowest price in the market. The canker worni stripped his apple tree, and a late frost blighted the corn and oats. He had the misfortune to buy a cow whilh Intro duced the cattle disease into his farm-yard, and Creamer, Spotty and Whiteface-the thiee cows that always fliled their pails the fullest and niade the most g3lden butter sickened and died. This was the question which Martle puz zled over from day to day, coming at .last to the conclusion that she must try her luck in the big world which she had seen so little of 6utsideof her own village. Bihe would go to London, and, if possible, find there a situat ion as governess, in which she could at least provide lor her own sup port. Her nother let fall a few quiet tears over the plan, and smiling patiently through them said, "Ask your father." Mr. Wood bridge said "No" at tirst; but having lain awake all night over his dillIcultles, lie called Martie to hi, kissed her solemnly, gave her a weary sigh, and with it his con sen1. So It came to pass that on a cool, crisp October morning, when the woods were at their brightest autumn flush, and the frost had stiffered the grass into little silvery blades and spears, and made the few pale flowers that lingered by the roadside hang their heads, Martle put on her bravest smile, made hopeful, comforting, little speeches, kissed them all good-bye at home-the dear old home, so full of joys and troubles-and started for London, to put into that great, hurrying, driving, Jostling market the modest wares she had to oOer. Martie was eager and full of hope; but, . alas! how much eagerness and hopefulness go down to death every day, In the frantic rush and scramble for the good things going. Martie in the great city, looking for work to (do, seemied like a qluiet little wren trying to pick up a worm o- a crumb where hawks and vultures were snatching and clawing for plunder. Martie was met the moment she stepped from the train by an old friend of the family, wvhio had kindly promised to re ceive her at her house, and do what she could to assist her. The next day, early in the morming, a modest, uinpretendinog little advertisement was sent to one of the (daily newspapers. What a stupendous affair it semed to Mar tie, and how her unsophisticated little heart beat at the thought of iti Nothing could conmc of it that day, however; and while she goes out with Mirs. Allen to do a little shopping, and stare at, a fewv of the city lionas, let s take a look at the quarters she has fallen into. Mrs. Alien kept a small private lodging house, very telect anid very genteel, its Inmates were the 'learned Prof. Bigwig anid family, from whose presence a certain literary aroma was supposed to pervade the atmosphere; the brilliant Col. Boreas hero -acording to his own -account-of num 'berless battles, a rising young lawyer, with hale pretty, blushing girl-wife, all fresh and lovely in her new bridal toilet; a rich widow and her still richer danghter, who, it was said, was soon to become tihe helpmate of the clerical member of tihe household, the llev. Paul Apolles; andi last, though not the least, the represdntativc of the line arts, Mr. llaymond, an artist, whose pictures had won golden praises from critics nd( connoisseurs, and golden prices jfrom paIr chases. Mr. Raymond was 3Martie's left-hand neighbor at the table. With the first glance at his dlark face, iron-gray hair and nmus tache and deep-set gray eyes, rho felt rather inclined to be ai-raid of ham. When] he smiled shea liked him bepter and thought the gray eyes looked kind;- and as she felt very shy and lonesome among all -these strange faces, she was glad to have him talk a little to her, amnd take care that she was provided with all sihe wanted. On the second morning after her arrival .in the city, Martac's advertisement app)ear edl. Mrs. Allen sent a paper up to her room before she was out of bed, so that almost as soon as her eyes were open she had begun to hope, andl to be afraid, and to wonder if,. out of so many people who she sulpposedl would come to see her, any one of tihem wotuld think well eaough of her to want-her services. Martlo was very painstaking wvith her toilet that morning. She wanted to look her best. She spent twice thme usual time over hes wavy, gold-brown hair, and when shte had put on her pretty gray dress-thei gray dress was for mnornir g, andh time black I silk for afternoons-and lastened the daintyi spotless collar and cuffs, she dallied fully ji fliye minutes over he ittle stonk of rihbona trying this one and that, and went down at < last to breaktast, looking, to Mr. Raymond's < artist eyes, which took her in at a glance a like a wild rose just out of a thicket, with ' the dewy morning brightness brimming In i her brown eyes, the pink rose petals in her . cheeks, and soft, warm, shimiering sun. r beams woven into the ripple of her brown i hair. How his artist fingers longed for t canvass and colors, to give to his beloved t 13t. Agnes that beautiful hairl But the wild rose might as well have i been blooming in her nativer thicket. In I vain Martle peeped from the front win. 1 dows, and held her breath when the front door bell rang. No one came to see the gray dress that morninir. The black dress fared better. It was called upon; and Martle went down to the parlor, with her heart- in her mouth, to meet the grand lady whose carriage and dashing horses she had watched as they drew up in splendid style before the house. I But, alas' Martie was not experienced, and I Martle was too young, and, though madame ' did not say so, Martle was too pretty, for I there was a grown up son in the family, ano to set youth-and beauty before him in v the shape of a young governess would be v tempting Providence. Madame was very sorry, hoped this and that, and swept ( gracefully out to her carriage, while Mar- I tie mounted with rather a slow stop- to her i little four-story room, to watch and wait, 1 and wonder if anybody would find her too young. She was not to blame for it, any- ( how, she said to herself, trying to coax a ( laugh. No one else came that day, but the next morning there was an early call for "the t lady who advertised." Martie was glad i she had on the gray dress; perhaps she c looked older in it. But gray or black was all the same; she was again weighed in the I balance and found wanting-not in years I this time, but in German; and as one weary hour after another went by, and no other : applicants appeared, Martle grew heavy- r hearted. Her advertisement was to appear v for three days. Two had already passed, v resulting only in disappointment. Mrs. Allen tried to encourage her, but when I night came, and the six o'clock dinner, Martie felt sad and homesick. "I hope no one has made arrangements to carry you off just yet," Mr. Raymond said, as lie took a seat beside her at their end of the long table. "No," said Martle. "No one wants me. I'm too young, and I don't know German." And a big round tear rolled over into her a tea-cup. "There's no cause for discouragement in that, I assure you," said Mr. Raymond. "I know people who would not find fault < with you on either score." Then lie went on talking to her in such a pleasant way that she soon became inter ested, forgot all her troubles and the tear in her tea-cup, and was as merry as though q she had been older and had known German b Mr. Raymond stayed down stairs until 8 ten o'clcck, read aloud an old-time fireside I story, and kept the ball of conversation rolling in such pleasant channels that the I evening was gone before Martie knew it, ' and In spite of all her disappointment it i had somehow been the pleasaitest one she had spent there. r The next morning a lady came to see t Martie in behalf of her mother-in-law, and 1 blartie eng,%ged to go on the following day to see the place and peopl!c. There was no poetry about Mrs. M yriek. b She was pure, unadulterated; wanted her girls to have a good. strong eddication-no 9 jimeracks, no furrim language to jabber in. She %as willing t,0 paty good wages would give a goveiness .20 a year and her board; but she nustn't expect much wait ing on. They didn't keep any servants didn't need any; a pity 'twould be if two hearty girls like hers couldn't do their own work. I Poor Martie. She would not say no at once, because this was, thus far, her only a chance; so she piromiscd to give an answer soon, and wenit back to her owvn room praying beavenm to send her something bet ter. She thought her prayer was answered when a. gentleman called that evening,L talked with her about 1her three little girls,c and seenr.ed wveil satisfied with the mottest account she gave of herself, lie was veryd particula.r about music, hiowever, and would be glad toe hear Miss Woodbridge play. Their interview had taken place in the kindly shelter of the quiet little recep tioni room; but the piano was in the big I parlor, and in there the professor and the R1ev. Paul Apollos were discussing earth and heaven. The Colonel was stalking about, showing off lisa martiat. figure; and the young bride, by the side of her new lord, was htoldling court in the midst of a live.ly circle of callers. "Shy, bashful Martiel how could she p)lay before all these people ? Poor, thulid little wren, that had just crept from under the mother-wing and flown out of her nest! Could( she show wvhat sweet music she knew how to make with a crowd of listen- I era ? T1here were none of the airs and graces of the music-pounding young woman about NMartie, as she dropped down uponi the piano stool and took a moment's grace be [ore entering upon the dIreadhful odeal. 'Twas no use waiting. butt oh, if the gen tieman wouldh but sit (town! Why will he stand beside her and witch her poor fright. aned fingers as they trip and( stumible, give i wild jump for a distant note, miss it make a dive for one octave and light on h another, and at last lose their way alto. tc gether, and go on chasing each other up mud down the key board. Martie knows el thme piece she is trying to play as well as ahe knows her name, but it all flies out of ier head and slips away from her fingers, and she ends at last with a finale _of her wn improvising, feeling her hair stand up Ii straight on her head as she does it. rThe gentleman was "much obliged," left gi ilmost immediately, and Martie, in a state o1 )f grief and mortification, was rurhing ti throughi tihe hall, exclaiming, with a sob, oh is site covered her face witil her hands. w "What shall I (10?" when site was sudden- ir *y stopped at the foot of the stairs by Mr. fe Raymiond. -g "My dear child," said ho, "don't take it fr 1o to heart. I've heard you play that piece w before. and thought how well you did it; p~ )ut of coni'se, yotu couldn't play with all w ,hose people staring and listening. The gi nan was a brute to ask you to do it." o1 "Oh, no, it Is I who is such a simple- lii on," said Martie; "but you are very good tc o me;" she hurried on uip stairs, longing ai o get where nobody could see her, but e reeling 6mforted a 'little, evoq~ then, by lie tender sympathy .which had done its est to console her. f One in hevr room the fin,daatoa we,e .1i pened, and Martie cried over what she alled her disgraceful failure, until she had ucceeded in getting up a raging headache. rhen she % ent to bad with the determina ionof writing in the morning to Mrs. lyrick, informing that lady that she was eady to accept her offer and enter upon he "eddication" of her daughters. But efore she had time to carry out her resolu Ion into effect Mrs. Myrick herself appear. d, having made up her mind that Martle vould not do for them, She hadn't been rought up in their ways, and Nas like to io too pertickler. Thus vanished all hopes of success from dvertislng. Mrs. Allen next advised that ifartle should try one of the educational gencles in the city, and an application vas accordingly made. Then followed nore days of anxious waiting and of hopes leferred, resulting at last in a visit and a enerous offer from a lady who won Mar Ie's heart from the outset with her plea aut face and winning ways, and her gen ie, motherly talk about the little boy and he two little girls at home for whom she vanted a teacher and companion. But, Jlas! that home lay hundreds of miles way. It seemed to Martle like going to the inds of the earth. She had twenty-four kours in which to decide; spent half the line in wavering between yes and no- be ween the courage to go and the home-sick ess that crept over her at the very thought f it. Then , scolding herself for a genuine oward. she made up her mind that go she aust and go she would. "What " exclaimed Mr. Raymond in a one of surprise. "Have you really made ip your mnind to go so far from home and ii your friends I" "Yes, I must go," said Martie, with a ittle quiver in her voice. "Please don't ay anything to discourage ie." "I wouldn't for the world, "returned Mr. laymond. "only that I know of a situation Lear home which you can have if you will ccept it. Come into the reception-room Lnd I will tell you about it." Martlie was all eagerness now. How de Ightful if, after all, she should not be obliged to make an exile of herself. "It is a companion, not a teacher, that 9 wanted," 31r. Raymond continued. 'Would you be willing to take a situation is coipanion ?" Martle's face fell a little, but she an wered: "I should be very glad to take such a ituation, if I could flt it. Do you think I ould 1" "1 am sure you could. "Do you know a person who wants a ompanion?" "Yes." "Who is it?" "Myself." "Yourselfl How-what-" Theexact uestion which Martie intended asking just cre must be left to the imagination, since lie did not seem to be quite clear ibout it erself. Mr. Raymond continued. "Yes; it is I, laitie. I want you for my companion. iy wife." The gray eyes twinkled a he sked, "will you take the situation ?" An hour later Mrs. Allen entered the >om, exclaiming, "bless my soull" as she imbled upon an unmistakable pair of )vers. "My dear Mrs. Allen," sad Mr. Ray iond, taking his blushing "companion" y the hand, and leading her to the aston ihed old lady, "I know that you will be lad to hear that Martie will not now be ble to make an engagement with that tdy; she has already made one wit I ic." "rhat's Al, Good-8ye1." She was a pretty little child, happy carted, full of fun and a great mimic. Unly two summers had sent sunshine across er curls and waked to sensuous delight ie infantile beauty of face and form. In pleasant home she dlwells--a home filled rith creature comforts, among them the ew innovation, the telephone. She had ften watched this wonderful mechanism, ud while she neither knew nor cared for ie secrets of its operation, she had learned y heart the pculiar and one-sided formula f a telephonic conversation. Unheeding iat some one was watching her, the other ay she put up a little hand to the wall and nitated the pushing of the button on the ilephone. Up went the other hand to her ir, as if hok(hng the ebony cylinder, 8and men the little miss went on in mimicry of er- e3lers in the following fashion: "HQllo." Pausing for an answer from the central alce. "Hello." Please hitch on Mr's.--house Mi's.---oflice. Pause. "Is 'at you, papa?" Pause "When is you coming home?" Pause. (Turning to her (10118, the little one hereo >oke impatiently, "Do keep still; I can't 3ar aword.") "Yes." (Rtising infleotion.) Pause. "I don't know." (In dloubt.) Pause. "Yes." (This time gleefully.) Padse. "Why, papa." (In surprise.) Pause. And so the little one went on maintaining irfectly an imagInary conversation, till at at. she dropped her hand with a motion dicative of weariness from holding the lophone and pronounced tihe conventional rhat's all; good-bye," with all the non iaiance of a veteran. Purirying Alcohol With Cocoa. A novel method of purifying alcoholic iuide by means of cocoa forms the subl et of a provisional protection recently anted to M. A. Ralu, of Paris. The jcct of time inventor is the destroying in e alcohmol(chiefly in low.priced qualities) a sour and irritating element, by which a B snuppose lie means fuse-oil. Alcohol, combimung with the cocoa dissolves r tty, emulalve matter, which exists in e cocoa bean in large quantities and t run this condition arises a condhition ~ hich insures the destruction of tihe emi- r freumatie acrimony, leaving the alcohol ithm a fresh and very sweet flavor and a mrnet tint. In some cases as much as r 10 Lundred and fity grammes for each L ro of of alcohol is usedl- it is not easy discover the value of this process, as it ~ pears to involve the spoilig of good ~ coQa In bad liquor. - --Asparagus has been a common and. a vorite vegetable (or more than two. onaand y.aars. Tombs. Prof. Geikie has been nexamining the tomb stones in the Edinburgh grave yards with the view of deterinlng the effect of time and weather on different kinds of stone. His researches vore necessarily limited to the few varieti employed for monumental purposes, Inely, na bles, lime stones, sand-stones, flag-stones and granite. Ile found the or nary white sac charoid Italian the most common marble. Three different effects were produced on this by the weather, namely, superficial solution, Internal disintegrotion, and curva ture with fracture. HupeFficial solution is caused by the carbonic agt and partly by ] the sulpl-uric acid of the town rain. When the marble is first erected, Its high ly polished surface is like that of a mirror; but after exposure for a year or two to the prevalent westerly rains of that locality, its surface becomes rough qnd granular, so much so that it might be taken for saili stone. The grains are so loosely held to- ) gether that they may easily be rubbed off with the finger, Of course, In such case the inscription becomes illegible in a nun ber of years, varying with the position of the stone. Many of the marble monuments in the older churchyards have undergone the process of internal disintegration. They are found to be covered with a dirty Drust, beneath which thestone proves to be merely loose crumbling sand. While the outer crust lasts, ;the surface of the marble remains with apparently little change, the inscription being perfectly legi, ble. But as soon as the crust is broken the stone in many cases crumbles to pow der. The remarkable phase of a rock weathering shown by curVsturc and frac ture was observed only ih those slabs of marble which had been Inserted in a solid frame work ot sandstone, The weather produced A bulging out of the marble and a series of fractures. Iii some iustances the marbte slab, securely fastened at the auds and sides, bulged ou) in the middle like a full sail. ProfessoV Ueikie gives as the results of his.observaltons that slabs of marble exposed to the weather, the climate, %nd atmosphere of Edinburgh are, save in exceptionally sheltered situations entirely destroyed in less than a century. 1le thinks white marble wholly unsuited for Dut-door use in that region, ind that its omployment for open-air works of art in tended to be lasting should be strenuonsly resisted. Sand-stones and flag-stones, when properly selected, I e finds are re tmarkably durable. The best are those which consist of a nearly pure, fine, sill. Aouf sand, with little or no iron or line, md without trace of bedding structure. Ile observed one tombstone--- a soiid square block of free stone--that had successfully resisted the action of the weather for two iundred years. But there are varieties of ;and and free stones whose structure and ,onstituents are sucn as to make them poorly fitled for outdoor service. Profes wcr Geikie's studies of granite are not con lusive, for the reason that this material ias been used so shor a time i cemeteries. Ile found, however, that ih time the polish iill disappear, the surface roughen and lecay set in. le expresses the opinion liat even the most duraole granite will robably be far surpassed 'in permanence )y the best of the Scotch silicious saind itOnes. The Drummer Boy. One cold December morning, about eighty i ears ago, a party of tourists were crossing I he Alps--and a pretty large party, too, for I here were several thousand of men together. t iome were riding, sonic walking, and most i )f them had knapsacks on their shoulders, ike many Alpine tourists nowadays. But i nstead of walking-sticks they carried inus- ( tEts and bayonets, and dragged along with ( hem some fifty or sixty cannon. 1 In fact, these tourists were nothing less k han a French army ; and a very hard time >f it they seemed to be having. Trying york, certainly, even for the strongest man< o wade for miles through knee-deep snow n this bitter frost and biting wind, along I hese iiarrow slippery mountain-paths, with >recipices hundreds of feet deep all round. I i'heo soldiers looked lihin and heavy-eyed or want of food andI sleep, and the poor0c orses that were dragging the heavy guns1 tumbled at every step,. But there was one among thonm who cenmed quite to enjoy the roughm marching, l ud tramped along through the deep snow nmd cold, gray mist, through which thle i ~rent mountain peaks overhead loomed like hadowy giants, as merrily as if lie were ~omug to a picnic. This was a little drum ncr boy of ten years old, whose fresh, rosy hieeks looked very bright and pretty among he grim, scarred visages of the old soldiers. Vhen the cutting wind whirled a shower of ~ now In his face he dlashed It away with a Ieery laugh, and awoke all the echoes vith the lively rattle of his drum, till it cemed as if the huge black rocks around vero all singing in choris. "Bravo, Petit Tlamnbour I" (little drum ncr) cried a tall man in a shabby gray loak, who was marching at the head of the ine, with a long pole in his hand, and strik ng It into the snow every now and then to cc how deep it was. "Bravo, Pierre, mny oy I With such music as that we could narch all the way to Moscow," Trhe-boy smiled, and raised his hand to is hat in salute, for thiis.rough-looking man ras iio other thani the general himseif, 'Fighting Macdonald," one of the bravest, oldiers in France, of whom his mnen used ia say that one sight of his face in battle ' was worthi a whole reginenit. t "Long live our general," shouted a hoarse 'olce, and the cheer, flying from mouth to ' mouth, rolled .along the silent mountaius ~ ike a peal of distant thunder. But its echo had hardly died away when ' be silence was again broken by another ond of a very dilrerent kind--a strange, ~ ncanny sort of whispering far away up Lie great white side. Moment by momentt tgrew louder and haralher, till at length it wvelled Into a dep, haoarse roar. "On your faces, lads I" roared the gene- C al; "It's an avalanche I" But, before his anon had tim'e to obey,t me ruin was upon them. Down thundered 0 be great mass of snow, sweeping the niar ew ledge path like a waterfahl, and crash- C ig dlown along with it came heaps of tones ad gravel and loose earth, and up) ooted bushes, and great blocks of col, lueo iee. For a moment all was dark as I ight; and when the rush had passed, many f tihe brave fellows who had been standing o a the path were nowhere to be seen. They ad been carried down over the precipice, I ad either killed or buried alive in the 0 sow. But the first thought of their comurades x r'as not for them. When it iwas seen what ~ ...~* ' had happened one cry arose from ever; mouth: "Where's our Pierre? Where's our littli druimer ?" Where, indeed ? Look which way tie3 would, nothing was to be seen of their poo little favorite, and, when they shouted hi namc, there was no answer. Then ther< broke forth a terrible cry of grief,and man3 x hard old soldier, who had looked withou Ilinching at a line of leveled muskets, fel he tears start into his eyes at the though that that face would never be seen amoni leiem again. But all at once, far below them, out o 1he shadow of the black unknown gulf tha lay between those tremendous rocks, aros( ,ho faint roll of a drum, beating the charge The soldiers started and bent eagerly for ivard to listen ; then up went a shout tha ihook the air. "11e's alive, comrades I Our Pierre' ilive, after all I" "And beating his drum still, like a brav( lad I Ile wanted to have the old music t( Jhe last I" - "But we must save hi, lads, or he'l Freeze to death down there. Ile must b( laved !" '"Hie shall be !" broke in a deep votc rrom behind, and the general himself wai ecen standing on the brink of the precipice hrowng off lais cloak. "No, no, general!" cried the grenadier Ivith one voice ; "you mustn't run such a lRk as that. Let one of us go instead; you life is worth more than all ot ours put to gether.' "My soldiers are my children," answere< lacdonald quietly; "and no father grudgei uis own life to save his son." The soldiers knew better than to nakc my more objections. They objected n illence, and the general was swinging ii lid-air, down, down, down, till lie van shed at last into the darkness of the cold ilack depth below. Then every man drew a long broath,au( dil eyes were strained to watch for the first ight, of his appearing, for they knew wel .hat he would never come back without the .oy, and that the chance was terribl Igainat him. Meanwhile Macdonald, having landed ;afely at the foot of the precipice, waE ooking anxiously around in search of ierre ; but the beating of the (iruin hia( .cased, and he had nothing to guide him. "Pierrej" shouted lie, at the top of hi roice, "where are you, my boy ?" "Iere, general l" answered a weal roice, so faint that lie could hardly dis inguish it. And there, sure enough, was the littI< ellow's curly head, half buried In a huge nound of snow, which alone had saved blint 'roim being dashed to pieces against the ocks as lie fell. Macdonald made for hin it once ; and although lie sank waist-deci it every step, reached the spot at last. 'All right now, ny bravo boy," said the ,eneral, cheerily. "Put your arms aroumiI my neck and hold tight; we'll have you ou )f this in a minute." The child tried to obey, but his stiffene angers had lost all their strength ; and ove wien Macdonald himself clasped the tiny irms about his neck their hold gave way Ilrectly. What wias to be done ? A few minutei nore, and the numbing cold of that dismal ?lace would make the resc.ier as powerles is him whom lie caie to rescue. Bui Jeneral Macdonald was not the man to bc io easily beaten. Tearing off his sash and Enotting one end of it to the rope, lie bount Pierre and himself firmly together will lie other, and then gave the signal to draw 1p. Anid when the two came swinging uf nto ,the daylight once more, and the Sol. Hers saw their pet still alive and unhurt, heer upon cheer rang out, rolling far back long the line, till the very mountains them elves seemed to be rejoicing. "e'~r~ve been under' fIre and snowv to. eother," said Macdonald, chafing the boy's 01(1 hands tenderly, "'and nothing shall airt us two after d,his so long as we L1th And the general kept hia word. Years iter, when the great war's were all over, here mighlt be seeni walking in the garden f a quiet country houise ini the south of 'rance a stoopimg, whlite-hialredi0( oll an, vho had1( once been the famioiis Marshal lacdonald ; and he leaniedi for supp)lort pon the arm of a taull, black-inoustached, oldier-like fellow, who had( on1ce been littlei 'lerre, the (drummner. Miaikmaids. The Spamurds, in One of their wars in lie Low Countries, intended to besiege the ity of D)ort, and1( accordlingly plaintedl some1 hiouandiu o1 soldiers In anmbush, to be readly ar the attack when the opportunity might fer. On the coinlines of the city lhved a ichi farmer, who kept. a number of cows ii lis gronds to furnish the city with milk and( butter. II is nilkaids, at the lime, coming to mlilk the cowvs, saw under lie hedges the soldiers lying in sambush, ut seemned to take no notice, and having ompllleted thiter task, went away, singing ierrily. On coninag to their master's ouse, they told him what theoy had seen. 'ho farmer astonished at the news, took nith him the one who hadl been most ac lye to a burgomiaster at Dort, who hmme intely sent a spy to ascertain the truth of lie story. Finding the report correct, hie egan to prepare for safety, amid instantly ent to the States, who ordered the soldIers be sent ito the city, and commianded( lie river to be let in by a certamin sluIce, rhlch wouldl instantly lay that part ot the ountry undler water. Th'is wvas forthwith one,w and( a great number of Spaniards iro drowned; the rest being dlisappointed in their design, escaped, andl the town was ins providentially savedl. Thle States, to omm)emiorate the milkmaids' good service their country, ordered theo farnuer a urge p)erpetuaity to recompense hin for the >ss of his house, land and cattle, andi sused the money of the city to have a silkmnaid milking a cow to be engravedl iereoin. Similar figures wnero also sot up n t,o watergate of Dort, andl to complete icir miuniilccec, the principal milkmaid o.ncernled was allowed for her own life aund oirs forever a hiandisome annuIty. -By the census just taken the popu itlon of St. L,ouls Is 376,000. -Earrings weore worn by Jaob's hildren, in I732 Before Ohrist. -rho Injury done by insects in the ainited States is estimated at $200,000, 00. -T..'he retal liquor dealers In' the inlted Statees are comnputed as num or hgr 010.00. BRIEF . --Sixty-five persons were killed dur ing a recent terrible storm and water spout near Dresden. -The dried fruit crop of North Caro lina in 1879 is said to have brought $400,000 into'that State. -The population of Gettysburg, Pa., Is two hundred and seventy-nine less than it was ten years ago. -tn the South there are 144 blast furnaces, 39 rolling mills and steel works, and 48 forges and bloomeries. -The total value of the tobacco crop of the United States Is about $22.000, 000-that Is what the farmers realize. -The annual tribute paid as rent to the landed aristocracy of England by the farmers In estimated at $500,000,000. -Asa Teft, of btockton, N. Y., makes an average of over 300 pounds of butter per annum from each of his cows. -Mr. Gladstone's expenses i the Midlothian election are returieo at -2,704, and those of Lord Dalkeith at ?4,078. -Tie average pay of the Protestant Episcopal ministers in the eighty-one Eptsvopal Parishes in Virginia is $304 27. -i,e income of tie Duke of West ni.ister Is said to be nearly $15,000 a day. Most of his wealth is in real es tate in London. -Along the Northern Pacific Rail road, whee last year the yield of wheat was 6,000,000 bushels, tine prom ise is now 10,000,000 bushels. -The first printing office established in Russia in 1560 was destroyed by the superstitious populace, who thougt the process one involving necromancy. -The reveauo ot the Imperial family of Russia is$12,500,000. About. $2,500, 000 Is set aside for charities, schools, etc., under the direction ot the family. -The fruit and vegetable business from Florida to the Norther States has grown from 25,000 boxes in 1874 to 950,000 In 1870, and Is still Increasing. -Ireland expended for beer last year $20,925,000, which sum wovid feed all her hungry population if properly a) pilied. England's beer last year cot $330,895,330. -Quantities of walnut timber, ob tained in soutIwest Virginia and East Tennessee, are being shipped to Eng land by agents employed by British cabinet makers. -Mrs. Flechter Webster Is building a handsome house on the spot where tihe old home stood at Marshileld. The great elim whilh Webster valued so highly is still standing. -Although the Coiimissioners for the Melbourne Exhibition had stated that tine total cost would not exceed $1,250,000, it will costS2,000,000. It is to be open in the evening. -Considerable eranbury land was devastated by the late Now JerFey tires. Tine flames swept over a single meadow of thirty-five acres, occasion ing the heavy loss of about $25,000. -''lie number of cattle killed per year in the United States is 11,825,000, the meats from which anonits to 4, 088,300,000 pounds, and their total value when killed for food is $608,200,000. -James I. Dodgo, in his investiga Lions of sheep husbandry, says that in tie South nore than 600,000 were killed by dogs in 1879, over live per ecnt. of the entire iminber in that see tion. -Tie eaplital employed in railway undertakings in Great Britain and Ire land is X560,000,000; that employed in America 18 X1,200,000,000; in Gormany ?200,000,000; and in Fre nce C210,000, 000. -A Frenehmian has on his estate near Paris a mnule agedi 73, a goose aged 37, a cow cf 30 years, a hog 27,a bull ilnnlh of 28, and a sparnow of 31. HIe makes it his pastimne to give a home to old animals. --Among tine passengers on tine dany boat from New York to Albany recentI hy, was Mr. G. Jones, of St. L.uls, wvho Is 90 years of age, and wvhOn sailed up tine river wvith Robert Fulton, on the steamer Clermoint, in 1807. -Tne youngest brother of tine Prin cess of Wales, P'rince Waldemnar of Denmanrk, has returned to Copenhagen after a year's cr11180 as lieuteinant on a Dannishn corvette. Ils royal father orders that tine youthn shall have two months' vacation. -Thie number of burglaries in Loin dion inas increased 20 per ceint. sline 1809, while t has decreased 39 per cent. in tine rest of England. It Is as sortedl that since thne deatn of Sir. R. Mayno thne London pollee force has been steally deteriorating. -Thnere anre but nine perfect tonecs In tihe huninain voice. However, out of these w' hnave ino less than 17,592,044, 415 dnfl'.renit souinds, tinuis,: fourteen direct gnmuscleCs, alone or togetiner, pro duce 6,383,530, indirect muscles, 173, 741,823; and altogether produce an al most incredi ble number lirst given. -Lord Roseberry has stirred a tu-~ mult in tine veins of "White's," the fashionable club of London, by intro ducing his jockey, Constabie, to dinner there; but he Is too great a favorite to touch, andl tine Duchess of Westnmnster has set thne example b)y dining Archer, the rider of Bond Or, at Grosvenor House. -Great numbers of American oys ters have bee n obtained to replenish the European oyster beds. Recently 1,250,000 American oysters were laid dlown on tine coast of Little Colt, from Giravenshnoved to Rolkhoved, anid a aompanny has been formed to lay down 15,000,000 more on tine Schnleswig.Hohs- >' tein coast. -The Hlalf Way House In WVeehaw~ ken, N. J. has a clock that was made b)y Martin Lople, of Strasbourg, in 1608. ~,A it is six feet tail, and is protected by a hnandsomely carved ease. Tine clock is in perfect order, and Is wound up every thirty-six hours. 1t never strikes, but constantly plays a succes sion of pleasant airs, the named of which are not known. -Thie manufacture of bottle corks is a considerable source of wealth in ; F'ramnce. The annual produbotion nimounts to 1,283,000,000. valued at abopat $3,100,000, The value of tho raw material 1s about $600,000.. The F'rench Qovernmaent.has formed thany l p. LiQns of the colik oak in A Part# of the UaIted,States are wqJ apted for theo ausoeastulhtivat49e o the Oork9f *v' Women's Pockets. One of those popuar journals which are the organs of feminine clothing has recently begun to agitate with much earnestness and eloquence in behalf of the right of women to have and enjoy pockets. it points out the fact that while man Is provided with from nine to fifteen pockets-exclusive of over-coat pockets-woman has either one solitary pocket or none at all. This Is un doubtedly a grie vance, and the demand for female pockets will commend itself to the world with much more force than did the demand for female trousers. Earnest as has been the agitation In favor of the latter, it has proved a failure. Men could not, by any argument, be brought to admit that it is the right and duty of women to wear trousers, and though a few fearless and determined women provided them selves with the garment in question, their appearance therein was so startling that their personal victory has been the defeat of their cause. The withholding of pockets from the women has undoubtedly had its origin in the fact that among girls of tender years there has been no apparent desire for pockets. The boy is eminently a string-consuming animal. In his sports and occupations lie has a constant need of strings, ond hence lie is properly provided with pockets in which to carry kite strings, shoe strings, top strings and general strings. lhe girl never uses strings In any form, and therefore does not feel the need of pockets. As the boy grows to be a man his pockets expand and increase with constant use, so that lie is finally able to use ten or fifteen at once. The girl, on the other haud, grow Ing up without pockets, reaches womanhood without them, and as inuch as she may then desire pockets, custom is against the gratification of her desire. The one pocket with which an occasional woman is provided, and in which she car ries her keys, her handkerchief, her smelling salts, her pin cushion, and a quantity of miscellaneous articles, Is nothing more than a make shift. It has no precise locality prescribed for it. Its owner, although she knows that she has a pocket somewhere beneath her skirt, can seldom find it without a prolonged and irritating search. To some wonien direct access to the pocket by means of a alit in the skirt is denied, and In such case the woman who wants to get lkt her thimble is compelled to seek the isolation of a corner of the room, where she goes through a mysterious and protract ed process through which her pocket is finally reached and exhumed. It is ob vious that this inconvenient substitute for the free and open pocket of the male sex is by no means sufficient to satisfy the deep wants of the feminine nature and that its existence Is no answer to the complaint that women are virtually pocketless. There Is not only no reason why a woman should be deprived of pockets, but thei ois abundant reason why her pockets should be even larger and more numerous than those of man. Nature seems to have designed her to blossom into innumerable pockets. Man's clothing, with the solitary exception of his coat tails, fits closely to his person, and affords no room for really capacious pockets. 'The skirts of women may, how ever, be hung with pockets within and without, and the capacity of each one may he threefold that of the largest trousers or coat pocket. In the concealed pockets she may carry a week's supply of clothing and hair pus, and the visible pockets might be put to uses of which the masculine pockets are totally Incapable. A large pocket, for example, might be placed outside the skirt, with an opening in the region of the belt buckle, and in this pocket a moderate sized infant may be carried, thus avoiding the fatigue of filling the arms with a burden that nist be handled with the utmost care, and, at the same time, leaving the hands free. In case of twins, the capacity of the pocket might be enlarged, or a rear pocket of like pattern may be used, so that the weight of onie twinm would balance the weight oif the othier. This is thrown out as a mere suggestion of one of time uses to which feminine pockets might be put, and a hundred other like suggcstions might easily be madeC. The Ui. 5. Army tin 1840. In 1845 the U. B. Army consisted of eight regiments of infantry, flve of artillery and two of dIragoons, by which name the cavalry was dlesignated. These, with a small general staff andI an engineers' corps, comp)osed all the United States Army. WIifild Scott was Miajor General in coin mand( of tihe army General George B. McClellan was second lieutenant in the Third Infantary, so obscure that his name was printedl "Geo. C. 3McClellan." In the same reginnent Don CJarlos Buell was also a secondh lieutenant. Th'ie Fourth Infantry contained two second lieutenants who madle their names memorable ln the civil war, on opposite sides--General Longstreet and( Ulysses 8. Grant. Longstreet had then been'In thme service two years, while Grant had quitted West Poiut but a year previous, and was "attached to the army as a supernumerary, with the pay and ran k of second( lieutenant." William T. Shier man, present General of the Army, was first lieutenant in the Third Artillery, as was Gen. 0. C. Ord. Robert E. Lee was a captain of Engineers, as was George W. G'ulhom, while under them in the same corps were General P.. 0. T. Beauregard who lhas since dropped the "P,' in his name-General M. 0. Meigs, General WV. 8. Rlosecrans and General H. W. Halleck, thme last two being ranked as second lieuten ants only. In the topographical corps wore Joseph E. Johnston, first lieutenant, andl John A. Macomb, who fought after ward on opp)osite sides. General C. C. Augur was a lieutenant in the second infan try, in which Bimon B. Buckner and Gen eral R1. 8. Canby, who was assassinated by the Modocs several years ag- , were second heuitenants. General Abe Bu lord of Ken tucky, the well-known turfmtan of to-day, was then a second lieutenant of the First Dragoons, of which regiment Win. J. Hiar dlee, of "Hlardee's Tactics," and one of the hii r !est fighters of the Confederacy, was captain. General John Sedgwlck was first lieutenant of the Becond Artillery. The Sixth Infantry roster, however, contains more of interest than any other. Of that regiment the colonel was Zachary Taylor, who now sleeps quietly in the land of his b.P.h, after having been gallantly amid all the glories and rigors of the war with Mexico and occu pled the Presidential chair. I that regiment Frederick T. Dent, b)rother-ini-law of Girant, was a second lieutenant. The last of the list of -second loeutenants was Winfield 8. Hancooc, who had just.graduated from West Polp$ with Grant.