The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, August 07, 1880, Image 1
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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.