The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, January 15, 1881, Image 1
TRI-WEEKLY EDITTO. I
WINNSBOR{O, S.~ C., JANUARY 15, 1881. 'iTTT~
BAKED BEANS.
Oh I how my heart sighs for my own native
land,
Where tot atoes, and equashes, and oucumbers
growi
Where cheer and good woloomo are always at
hand,
And custards and pumpkin pies smoko in a
row,
Whore pudding the visage of hunger sorenos,
And what is far dearer, the pot- of baked
beans.
Lot Maryland boast of her daintiOs profuse,
liar largo watermelons and oantaloups flno,
Her tus tie. a-id oysters, and terrapin stws,
And soft crabs, high-zestod with brandy and
Wine;
Ah! noitber my heart from my native laud
wt An5,
When smokes on the table the pot of baked
b-ans.
'Ihe pot of tukod beaus I-with what pleasuro
I saw it,
Well seasoned, well porked, by seine rosy
faoed dame;
And when from the glowing hot oven sht.'d
draw It,
Well orisped and well browned to the at he it
oasne.
Oh give me my oountry, the land of my
teens,
Of the dark Indian pudding and put of baked
beans.
'Ihe pot of baked beanl Ah I the muse Is too
frail
Its taste to descant on, its virtues to tell,
But look at the sons of New England so liale,
And her daugl-term no rosy, 'twill leach thee
full well;
jtke me, it will teach thee to sigh for the
means
of health. and-of rapture!-the l.ot of baked
beans
Her Rustic Lover.
Dinner was over, and all the dishes
cleared away; and the thrifty fariner's
wife had sat down to her sewing, with a
pair of silver spectacles perched on her
Roman nose. Fanny Clifford sat opposite
-a trim, pretty damsel, with a sweet sun
burnt face, and great gray eyes, with blue.
black flashes coming and going In their
irises.
"So Miles has really gone ?" said Fanny,
after a moment's silence; and there was a
little quiver in her voice that the iother
fully comprehended.
"Yes," said Mrs.- Perry, stitching dill
gently away at the unbleached cotton shirt
she was making for her husband, and pro
leuding not to see the flush on Fanny's
cheek, "he has gone; and a great fool he
is, iny humble opinion."
"Oh, Mrs. Perry I" deprecated Fanny.
"What, what else Is it?" asked Mra
Perry, looking in an owlish fashion through
the round lenses of her spectacles. "Here
he is, with as nice a farm as there Is In the|
country, and him the only son, and yet
he's possessed to go to the city and clerk
it, just because he thinks it a little gen
teeler than to plow and sow and reap, as
his father and grandfather had done be
fore him, aud"'- she hesitated a little hero
-becaise he fancies Antonia Archer will
be pleased.
*Pve no patience with him; and I wish
she had never come (lown to the Morrises,
turning the heads of the girls with her city
airs and fripperies, and Ilirting with every
young man she could entlee into her
toils.''
"Bhae--she iH very attractive." tald poor
Fanny.
"Xes, to them as likes gilding better
than true gold, and Is caug lht by red cheeks
antd dashing ways. Wel'"-niter a mo
mieuf's pause, Juring which she stabbed
her needle vindlctively into the tunoffending
clothi-"tbere's some as cata learn b~y ex
perience only, and our Miles Is one of the
sort. He'll be back, I expect, wheat ho's
found out he isn't the only poor mtoth
whose wings have been scorched In the
flame of a coquette's wicked eyes.''
"Oh, Mrs. Perry, Miss Archer never
would refuse miles."
"If I thought she wouldn't, 1 shouldl
give up," said Mrs. Perry, energetically.
"To think of this kitchen, as i've cleaned
every Saturday morning, and kent so sweet
an d fre.%h as a rose, being left to a misera
ble hired girl, while my lady idiles in' the
best room I I do believe it wotulu drive me
c razy.
"But you're not going, Fanny 1 Stay
to tea, there's a dear, and I'll mix a pan o'
light biscuit, and gather seine o' thorn
strawberries, as would make a fit supper
f or a princess. Stay, Fanny ; at's sort o'
companty for me to have you lhere."
And Fanny Cliflords stays, her poor,
sore heart somewhat relieved by the sym
pathy unspoken, yet expressed, of Miles
P erry's mother.
Tfhe ,June sunset, fading in such tender
tinrta of rose and op~al and gold over the 01ld
arm, was full of glow and sultriness in
London.
'1 he season was (dull.
It wats Saturday afternoon, and theo
Messrs. Scratch & Staylace, after getting
all they could out of their mucht-endurinig
clerks, had at last reluctantly closed their
tore and put uip their wooden shutters.
And Miles Perry, tired and weary, hiad
at last the opportunity to hurry home to lisa
g arret room an a third-rate L-ouse. H ie pro
posed to called on Miss Archer ; and with
e ager restlessness be traed on collar after
collar, and finally adljusted a scarlet silk
niecktie, for which heo had paid the, to him,
extravagant sum of live shillings, securing
iit with a gaud~y pin), borrowed from one et
hisu compaualons at Messrs. Scratch & Stay.
lace's and brushed diligently away until
every speck of dust was removed from his
b 'nit and trowsers, pausing at che last to
give his 1)oots an extra sniue.
"I dnoiet suppnaea ha sold to himself.
when, all, these preliminaries completed,
ie took a farewell survey of himself in the
glass, "that any one would know mLo for a
country fellow now."
And, to complete the illision, our young
aspirant lighted a cigar, and made himself
uncomfortable with it as he walked along
the streets, now bright with the glean of
tnany gaslights.
Miss Antonia Archer lived in an arlsto
crdtle and pretentious locality, with a good
deal of polished glass and plated door
hinges, and at No.--street Mr. Miles
Perry presented himself, with blushing
countenance and throbbing iewt.
The servant, a young damse) in blue rib
bons and a smart alpaea dress, looked at
our hero as if el rather suspected that
he had mistaken this for the servant's
bell.
"'She's at home," she admitted, rather
grudgingly. "Can't you leave your errand
with me, young man?"
"I wish to see Miss Archer," Miles said,
loftily; and the maid showed him into the
library, an apartment divided from the
drawing-rooms by a drapery of blue silk
curtains hung between fluted pillars of
variegated marble, and there loft him.
Through a dirarranged fold in'the silk,
Miles Perry could catch a glimpse of the
splendo:s of the two rooms beyond.
The middle one was tenanted only by
the grand piano and half a dozen blue silk
chairs.
But in the front apartment, where Ax
inisiter carpets and buhl and gilding glit
tered under a full-lighted chandelier, !at the
the fair Antonia, in adressof lemon-colored
crape, trimmed with rich black lace, and
topaz ornaments swinging iike miniature
suns from her ears.
And close beside her on the sofa sat a
bald, elderly gentleman, with diamond
studs flashing in his linen, and a double
chin.
Aile.s cotild see the blue-ribboned lass
advance to her mistress and deliver some
message.
The bald-headed gentleman rose, and
took a gold-knobbed cane from the corner,
as if to depart.
"If you have other company, " he be
gan, rather testily.
But. Antonia laid her little white hand
caressingly on his sleeve.
")on't go," she cooed. "Dear Nicholas,
whose company could I possible prefer to
yours? It's only that country boy I told
you about yesteraay, you know."
"The one who had the audacity to full
in love with you out in the wilderness?"
chuckled the old gentleman.
"Exactly. . To think of his hamavne f.
lowed me herel But these rustics have
neither sense nor discrimination."
"I'll go and send him away," said Mr.
Nicholas Goldbeater, promply.
But when lie got to the library it was
empty.
Miles Perry had not walted for a muore
formal disimssal.
He walked homeward, feeling as if a
fountain of flery indignation were boiling
in is heart.
So the fair Antonia Archer, for whose
sake he had offended his father, grieved
his mother, and proved tactily false to poor
Fanny Clifford, who taught the district
school, had forgotten him already, save as
as a theme of mIrth between herself and
her elderly lover.
Well, it served hun right.
Hie might have expected it.
When he reached his garret a crum
pled note lay thrust half way un?er the
door.
He read It- by the sickly gaslight In the
hall.
"Messrs. Scratch & Staylace's comil-i
nments, and they regret that they have no
further occasion for the valuable services
of Mr. M. Perry."
Miles sat down, resting his aching head
upon his hianids.
The garret roof, on whIch the sun had
beat relentlessly all day, was like a reser
voir or dull hoat.
Th'le sickly smeolls from the halls below
brooded like a vapor ia the unventilated
apartment, and the one narrow window,
when it was opened, admitted only the un
savory fumes oft a neighboring factory.
Miles thought, of the dewy clover fields
at home, over which the moon was now
just beglaning to rise.
"If mother was only hero to put some
camphor on amy head," he thought. "I
wonder if Pin going to be sick."
The garden path was carpeted with
layers of fallen foliage, brown and yellow
and jewel-red.
And MIles Perry, sitting up in the great
calico-covered easy chair, by a crackling
fire of logs, was eating a bowl of grtiei
wat Fanny Cllifford's brown langers had
prepared.
"It's a long time I've been sick, Fanny,
'ei"*
"A long time,. Miles. There Is your
mother coming up the garden. I mnust go
now."
"But, Fanny 1"
"Yes, Miles."
"Don't tie on your hood just now, F~an
ny. I want to toll you something. I want
to ask you to miarry me, Fanny. I know
I've behaved like a brute, but I think I
have had a snillcient lesson now. One
thing Pum certain of; I never should have
recovered from this fever without your
oare and kinidnesa. Won't you be may
Fanny ?"
Aiid when Mrs. Perry camne in, bringing
the scent of wild grapes andi autumn leaves
with her, she knew ut a glance what had
happened.
"Mother 1" whispered Fanny, in a soft,
appealing tone; and Mrs. Perry clasped
her i her arms.
"I'm so glad," said Mrs. Perry.
"So am I, mother," said Miles, content
edly.
And Antonia Archer was forgotten.
People a Uao t, want to mee .
Crawly Croak ? You krow him not ?
I ou have never met him ? Never dined
at his house In Gh1otul's place, Sarcop
hagus square? If It wasn't that untolI
gold shall nover aginla get ie within those
dread portals, I'm hanged If I i-ouldn't
take you for the fun of the thing.
What houses those are in Ghoul's place,
and what a house his is I From year's end
to year's end I'll be sworn not one solitary
ray of sunshine ever struggles into any
part of it. The grtat stone-paved hall
is like a vault, the dining room like a cel
lar, and a place there is on the ground
floor, where soinetimes you are ahked to
wash your hands witi a stony-hearted,
sharp-edged square cake of white soap,
which looks like a grave yawning at the
end of the passage.
On pegs in the hall hang dusty hats
whose owners I believe to be dead. Per
chance guests who never survived one of
those funeral meals and for what I know
their bodies may be buried under the Hags
in the ghastly little back yard.
There are two female Croaks, a mother
and a daughter, about the sane age a
casual observer night suppose, the only
difference being that the mother Is possibly
a year or two the youngest. -These and
the old phantom himself, and three ser
vants, are all the living things the house
contains, except the beetles, which are
said to abound below stairs and maybe now
and again reach the dinner table in the
soup or stows.
The female Croaks are a good deal like
black beetles and the phantom himself re
minds you of one-as he crawls about the
mildewed drawing room with a wretched
scrap of paper in nis hand on which Ie has
told off the, doomed. See, at this utmoment
he is asking one of them if he will take the
eldest Miss Hatchment down to dinner-"
the lady in black there, upon the sofa."
What guests, and where does he collect
them ? 'the Misses latc hment, Mr. and
Mrs, Sowerby, Mr. Mould,the Earthworms
and The O'Boguey I
And, heavens I what a meal I I know
not of what it is composed, except that
here and there I fancy I come across a fila -
vor of beetles. Soupe au corbillard shall
we say, to begin with? Solo perdu au
beurre noir. Tete de veau au grand mal
hear, Cro4uets au croquemort. Vol-au
vent flnanciere, sauce funebre. Woking
pudding and Kensal-greon cheese.
And the talk. As a rule everybody sighs
when he has said anything. Questions
are asked respecting parties long cead and
gone, and their age and ailments lengthily
discussed and this is a subject that turns
up again at Intervals. Somethnes, when
there is a pause, you may hear one of the
femal COroaks whinin& uoinA
11AtUUkU ULU NJiC
a,u,. JuU passung 01 the nietorn Duni, or
the O'Boguey babbling of the Irish rebel
lion.
It is not that I have any objection to the
conversation being mostly on bygone topic;
but as one who has listened lengthily, who
affliction sore long tine has borne, I pro
test that Croak & Co., have nothing note
wo thy to say about anything they pretend
to talk about. Indeed, I have reason to be
lieve that at the time the events occurred
of which they speak they were one and
all in profound ignorance of the fact, and
only picked up a few details confutedly
long afterward.
As to the bearing the events had upon
their lives, why, they simply had none
whatever, and therefore 1 appeal to any
unprejudiced person why they should bore
me atbout, theam over my wretched meal.
Occasionally a compnjaratively modern
occurrenee is referred to, as in this case.
"I'here was a book came out by-- I for
get the fellow's name-*-that was not bad.
(To nw.) You know it,Mlster, 1 dlaresay.
'Wicnpiok.' that was It,. 'Wtckpick,' to
be sure; and the author's name wais--let,
me ae? To be sure. Phiz--the tauthor's
name was Phmiz. I wonder whether lhe has
written anythmng since. A sharp, shrewd
young fellow that. 11e'll do, that, tellow
will." It would be a wicked ptty to 'iis
turb tany of these facts that Crotak has fav
emred us with. I don't.
When the female Croaks and the othter
beetles have crawled away, we males slp
our port and sherry, and a conversatiotn,
if anything more prosy than before, sets
in. Then cotee is announcedI, and a fun
eral procession ascends the st airs. I hatve
joined it, but only once.
What an aw ful, aw ful time was that I
TIhe two Misses lHatchmienit played inany
pages of something which I have since
Ieartned was classictal tmusic.
H-eavenel how I yawned, and one of the
female Cr-oaks caught me.
About an hour and a half I sat up In
tbbat dreadfuli room hearing music varied
by conversation, wating for some one to
wnove. But no, they stuck to it, all of
them, like barnacles. At last I wade a
bold plunge, said good-night, and escaped.
Outside, in Ghoul's plaoe I rubbed my
hands and Laughed aloud. Ini Sercophmagus
square I danced.
The Glf tream.
There is a river in the ocean. In the
severest dIrouthms It never falls, and in thme
mightiest flood it never overilows. Its
banks and its bottom are of cold water
while its current is of warmi. The Gulf of
Mexico is its fountaIn, arid its mouth Is In
the Arctic seas. It is the gulf stream.
TIhere is In the world no other so majestic
a llow of watter. Its current Is more swift
than the Mississippi or theo Amazon, and
tts volume more than 1.900 tImes greater.
Its waters, so far as the Car.lna coasts
are indigo blue. Thewy are so distinctly
marked that thme common sea water ean be
traced( with the eye. Often one-half the
vessel may be seen iotating In the Gualf
stream waters while the other half Is Ia the
common water of the sea, so sharp is the
line and want of affinIty between these
waters; andl such, too, the reluctainc, so
to speak, on the patrt of th.>se of the Gu*tlf
stream to mingle with tno common waters
of the sea. In add~itlon to these there Is
another peculiar fact. Thme fishornien on
the coast oif Norway are supplied with
woodl from the tropIcs by the Gulf stream.
Think of the Arctic fishermen burning
upon their heartha the palms of IlaytI,
the mahogany of londuras and the pre.
>lous woods of the Amazon and the Orl
A Thiefs Trea4re-House.
Not long ago, a *ian was observed
walking in a very 6uspicious manne
in the Bols do Vincenties, Paris. Consid
ering the number of petsons constantly to
be seen in this favorite haunt, and the far
from attractivu iam rs which many of
them affect, it must b supposed that the
individual in question inade himself par
ticularly remarkable by his movements In
order to draw towards him the attention of
the guardians of the peacp. However this
may be, the latter were iutliciently acute,
not only to observe the strange demeanour
of the man, but to foilow him up and
frustrate those efforts to escape notice
which constituted the most remarkable
part of his proceedings. They dodged him
carefully until le haj reached a solitary
part of the Iois, and then, under a certain
tree had scraped awev the earth and
brought to light a cigail box, carefully t ed
ip and sealed. lie had lJeketed this article
hurriedly, and was abo to march off with
it, when they rushed I upon him and
gained possession of thel prize, which was
found to contain a treasre of no lexis than
14,000 francs in bank I es. As soon as
the man could be bro ilit before the de
tective authorities, and te whole affair In
vestigated, a clue was q ekly found to the
secret, and It turned out that the adven
turer was a certain Peitin, who two years
ago was found guilty of a daring robbery
In Bouievard Voltaire. The property
stolen amounted In all to15,000f, of which
420 had been found on Perrin w hon first
arrested. He swore to having squandered
the rest of the money, and was sentence
to two years' imprisonment, from which he
had just been released w% hen he repaired to
the Bols de Vincennes, ' The sentenced
was not too severe, and If lie had not been
caught in the manner already described,
he would have pabl but a low price for the i
enjoyment of lia 14,08U francs. Bnt "all's
well that ends well," and the owner of the
stolen property may congratulate himself i
that the thief was not at first punished more
severely, for if he had been incarcerated
for ten or twenty years, the probability is ]
that the bank notes, protected by nothing j
more than a cigar-box, would have been so i
damaged by the damp, if not by more
active enemies, as to be worth nothing at
the bank.
The Demon of uolorado.
During the year 1863 the whole com.
munity of Colorado were thrown Into a
state of terrible excitement, in consequence
of a series of diabolical murders that were
committed under the most extraordinary
circumstances. A man would be found
dead in the road at a certain location, with
all his valuables about his person, and per
hapsahis horse grazing by his side, and the
next day another would be found at a dis
tanca of thirty or forty miles under like
circumstances. A rifle shot would be
heard in the vicinity of a camp of miners
or emigrants and a herder or sone one who
111d lat rjP from the camp, wo k1 n''UULI
n eiIN or A .Ating chiDlMkInd had
been perpetrated. In every instance it t
was evident that robbery was not the ob
ject, as even theiranimals were not taken- 1
all the victims were Americans. One day
two men were riding together, approach- I
ing California Gulch, in southwestern Col
orado, when suddenly two Mexicans
stiqpped out from the underbrush at the
side of the road, with leveled rifles and
tired, simultaneously; one man fell dead
from his saddle, while the other was badly
wounded, but succeeded in retainiig his i
seat until he reached California Gulch
where lie reported what had occnrred. In
a few minutes a party of miners were
mounted and in hot pursuit of the mur
derers, found their trail and finally suc
ceeded in overtaking them. One of the
Mexicans was woundled and fell off from
his horse, but the other suicceedied in
niaking his escape. Thle wounded mani
was recognized as belonging to a family
named Espenosa, living ini southern Cole
rado, and in answer to all interrogations
only rep~lied by cursing all Americans,
mentioning the number his brother and
himself had alreadly killed, regretting that
hec couild not live long enough to kill more,
but prophiesyirg thint his brother woul
live ntil theIr revenge was complete; a,
rope was put around lia neck and lie was
hauled up to the limb of a tree while still
shrieking curses upon all our race, andi
left huanging for the birds to feed on. A
few days intervened and in a far off lo
cality from the place of capture, another
m1urder was committed, aiid then continued
of almost daily occurrence. For a time
lhe ut most excitement prevailed thbrough
out the0 TIerritory. Months elapsed and.
at ill every now and then a new victim,
would he found. At one time there was a
long intermission between the murders,
and it was generally supposed that the sur
viving Espenosa had quit the country or
had become surfeited with blood; but on a
iuiddemn lie was at work again, and other
victims were adided to tihe horrible list.
At last, one day the Governor of Colo
radlo received a letter written in Spanish,
which stated that some time back the
writer and lis brother had been dleeply
wronged by some Americans; that they
then swore vengeance against the whole
race andi had dieternmined to devote their
lives to the fulfillment of their vow, but
that his brother now being diead, hie had
become tiredi of killing, andt on certain
condit ions was willing to forego further
vengeance and become a good citizen; that
lie had so far killed and assisted in killing
twenty-three Americans, anid lhe would be
satisiled with that numbler, in case the
Governor would grant hun a free paurdon
for is panst transgresionsi. The letter was
signed "Eseniosa." lie further stated
that unless tihe pardon was p~ulicly pro
claimedi by a certain date, lhe would coni
tiniie the course he had been p~ursuing
whdle lhe had life. 01 course no response
was made(1 to thmis unihea~rdl of proposition,
andl for awhile longer Espenosa resume I
lis old trade, but fortunately is career
was soon enided. At this time the olhicer
comfmanug Fort Lyon, in southern Colo
radlo, detailed Lioutenaiit Baldwin, of the
First Colorado Battery, with a squadh of
men to escort a governient tr..iu to Fort
Garland across the Bangre do Cliristo pass.
Oni the Lieutenant's return while near the
afore mentioned pass, the body of a gen
tiemnan who had left Fort Garland a little
in advance of the command, was discov
ered, having been just killed, the remains
still warii. Fortunately Lieutenant
Baldwin had with him as scout and guide
an old mountaineer by the name of Auta
hoes, one whio was not excelled in his p.
nlist hna in th. nountry. Ira 1mm.
diately discovered the trail of the mur.
derers, finding out from what to him were
sure Indications that there were two of
thon. Under the guidance of Autabees,
Lieutenant iaidwin with some of his men
started in pursult. The trail led up the
side of a mountain, which was covered
with fallen dead thuber, and the utmost
precaution was necessary to prevent their
approach being heard, but under strict in
junctions from the guide they crept
stealthily along until they had got over
anout half a mile of ground, when sud.
denly Autabees, who was in the advance,
by a rapid motion -halted the party who
were following, and dropped on his face,
the rest following his example. He then
signed to Lieutenant Baldwin to approach,
who In the most careful manner did so.
The scout pointing through a small space
between the logs, the Lieutenant beheld the
following scene: An open space in the
timber; a Mexican boy about sixteen
years old lighting a small fire; a mann in
the act of cutting some meat from a quar
ter of beef that hung to the limb of a tree.
Autabeces had thrust his rifle through the
Logs and had the man covered, the distance
about fifty yards. He looked to Baldwin
for permission to fire. The Lieutenant
fearing the man might escape, nodded his
head. The rille cracked, the muan leaped
into the air, then fell. In an Instant he
was on his feet making for his rille which
stood against a tree a short distance off,
shouting at the sume time to the boy, in
Spanish, "Run Manuel, the Americans are
)a us.' Before reaching his rifle Auta
bees was on hin; two rapid shots from his
revolver and Espenosa fell dead in the act
f reaching for his gun. The boy's flight
was stopped by a fatal shot from Lieu
tenant Baldwin.
Espenosa's head was cut off and con
reyed to Fort Garland. The boy was his
ephew and was buried where he fell.
rhus closed a career that is without a par
Miel. it seems like an Incredible State
nent, but the truth of which can be
rouched for by all the old residents of
Jolorado. A character of that kind d
icted in a romance would appear absurd,
imiply provinir how much stranger Is truth
han fiction.
rhe Boy Philanthroyant.
H1e was a boy with nincteen cents in his
lst. lie counted the money at the corner
)f Woodward avenue and Congress street,
Jetroit, again at the corner of Jefferson
ivenue, and once more on Griswold street, 8
and there was no mo no les. He was
L boy who wanted to do good with his
noney. Ilia heart was chuck full of phil
Lnthropy, and contained not one grain of
eltishness. His first desire was to buy S
dineteen barrels of flour for nineteen poor V
ad worthy widows. but after figuring a 0
ittle he found that he couldn't do it. Then -
to got the idea that lie might offer a gold
nedal as a prize to the Woodward avenue
ar-driver, who should drive his car near
at to one mile in an hour, but he replied
y untes, sMOne'Vaudc u utuwlu wr ma
ond faster, and the strife might result in
he death of three or four hornes.
"I think I'll come right down t jaw
ireakers at once," he said, as he sat down
a a doorway. "I kin buy nineteen jaw
reakers and make nineteen boys happy, U
ucluding myself. Jim Jimi
.iII came (down from the corner and the
hilianthropist said:
"Jim, if you had nineteen jawbreakers,
vhat would you do with 'em."
"Eat ev'ry duried one in forty seconds
y the watch!" was the prompt reply.
"8am! Baml" called the pliilanthropist u
o a boot-black across the way.
The shiner came over and was asked:
"Would one jawbrefaer make you hap
>y?"0
The hLilanthropit walked away from
hem, aimt as lie near-ed a candy store, ho t
nusett:
"1llgger that one jawbreakor will make
t
no happy for half ani hour, and~ that nine.
een jawbreakers will last, me nineteen
lays. B:y giving them away, all happi
mess is gone in ten seconds, and nil jaw
reaikers are gone in forty. Isn't it better
or mec to eat the hull nineteenl Would
his worldl be any better to-morrow if
owed eighteen jawbreakers broadcast!
as~nting bread on time waters is all right
cause bread won't sink, but, one o' them
awbreaikerni goes right to the'bottom like
hunk o' lead."
lie eniteredi the store, shelied out his
thange, and said:
"Gmeni tihe wvorth o' this ini jawbreak
srs, and p~ilas do upi the packaige so it'll
ook{ as it I Ww carrying hiomle ani 014d cod
Iih."
Mlountamu Cinaldnu.g.
The greatesit altitude which has becen.
reached b~y mount ain clmabinig was attained'
Ii Cashmere by Mr. Johnson, who sonme
years ago mountedl to a spot, 22,300 feet
above tihe sea. Aeronauts have ascended
80,000 feet and returnedl in safety. It is
supposed by mountaincers that 25,000 to
26,000 feet Is the utmost height that will
ever be trod by human steps. Thaiut life
can be supported at this altim ude has been
proved by tihe adventurers who hamve dared
the dhangers of the upper air In a balloon.
D~uring tihe last summer Mons. Werner as
conded Mount Illimnani, one of the loitieat
peaks of the Blolivian Andes. The height
of this mountain has b~een variously esti
mated, Mr. Pentland giving It an altItude
of 24,200 feet; Mr. Minchin setting It at
21,224 feet, and Mr. Weiner himnseif muak-'
lng it, to be only 20,812 feet'. Few ascents
to time height of 21,000 feet have been re
corded. hunters of the liimnalayas often
chase their game to the height of 20,000
feet, and natives lhving near Mount D~em
arend, near Teheran, frequently climb to
the summit,, above 20,000 feet, to gather
sulphur from the crater.
qtur FarmingW Inter-es.
The past forty years have witnessed a
p rodigious growth in American farming.
In11840 our grain product was 815,000,00
bushels; ten years later it, had risen to 802,
000,000; ten years later still to 1,288,000,
000; ten years bater yet to 1,887,000,000,
a .d1 nine years later, or last year, to
2,481,000,000. These annual cereal pro
dluts have risen from a value of $4,000.
000,000 in 18150 to one ol $l1,000,000,000
In 1870. and probably to one of $15,000.
000,000 or more In this past year, 1880.
and the surplus, after paying wages ammd
expenses, was over $2,000,000,000 in 1870.
and perhans $8,000,000,000 ini 1880.
Vulfilled Dreas.
Dickens once had a dream which waf
fulfilled, at least to his own satisfaction.
"Ihere," he wrote on May 30, 18o8, "Is a
curious case at first hand. Being at, tie
onlce here,' in London, "I dreamed that I
saw a lady in a red shawl with her back
toward me, whom I supposed to be E.
Un turning round I found that I didn't
know her; and she said, '1 am Miss Nap
ler.' All the time I was dressing next
morning I thought 'What a preposterous
ting to have so very distinct a drean
ibout nothi'g I And why Miss Napier?
for I never heard of any Miss Napier.
That same Priday night I rend. After thE
readlng cume into my retiring-rooni Mary
Boylo and her brother, and the lady in the
ed shawl, whom they present as "Miss
Napier.' Tl'hese are all the circumstances
nxactly told.'' This was probably a case
>f unconscious cerebration. Dickens had
io doubt really seen the larly, and been
old that she was Miss Napier, when his
,ttention was occupied with other matters.
'here would be nothing unusual in his
treauming about a person whon he had
hus seen without notieiug. Of course it
'as an odd doinci!ence that the lady of
vliom lie had thus dreamed should be in
roduced to him soon after-possibly the
rery day after. But such coincidences
1ie not infrequent. To suppose that
Jackens had been specially warned n a
iream about Eo unimnportant a matter as
tls introduction to Miss Napier would be
bbsurdt for, unfulillled, the dream was, as
)icke:s himself described it, a very dis
inct dreani about nothinir. Par different
n this respect was the strange dreani
vhieh President Lincoln had the night be
ore he was shot. If the story was truly
old by Mr. Stanton to Dickens, the case
s one of the most curious on record. Dick
us told it thus in a letter to John Forstor:
'OUn the afternoon of the day on which
lie president was shot, there wes a cab'inet
ouncil, at which he presided. Mr. Stan
on, being at the tine commander hi-chief
if the Northern troops that were concen
rated about here, arrived rather late. In
leed, they were waiting for him, and on
ns entering the room the presidint broke
i>[ in something he was-saying, and ro
narked: 'Let us proceed to business, gen
lemnen.' Mr. Stanton then noticed with
url)rise that the president sat with an air
f dignity in his chair, instead of lolling
bout in the most ungainly attitudes, as
s invariable custom was; and that in
toadI)1f telling irrelevant and question..
ble stories, he was grave and calm, and
uite a dilferent maan. Mr. Stanton, on
javing the council with the attorney
eneral, said to him: "'hat is the most
atisfactory cabinet ineeting I have at
iiunded for inany a long uay. What an'
xtraordinary change in Mr. Liucolul'
'he attorney-general replied, 'We all saw
before you ewue in. While we were
valting for you, he said, with his chin
own on his breast, 'Uentlmeuen, some
ling very extraordiinary' isrotng to ligi.
ttorney-general had observe ,'ioething
;ood, sir, I hope 0' when the president an
wered very gravely, 'I don't know- I
on't know. lut it will happen, and
liortly, too.'As they were all impressed by
is mainier, the attorney-general took him
p again. 'flave you received any infor
iation, sir, not yet disclosed to us''
No,' answered the prmident, 'ut 1 iave
ow had the saie dream three tiiea.Once
u the night preceding the battle of Bull
tun. Once on the night preceding such
nother,' (namting a battle also not favor
ble to the North.) [ha Chin sank Oi his
reast again, and he sat reflecting. 'Might
ne ask the nature of this (Ieamm, sir?' said
lie attorney-general. 'Well,' replied the
resident without lift ing his head or
hanging his attitude, -I am on a ire.it
road rolling river-and I am mn a boat
nud I drift --and I drift I--but this Is not,
usmess,'-suddenly iraising his face anid
Joking round the taible as Mr. Stanton en
Lred-'let, us proceed to business, gentle
len.' Alr. Stanton andt the attorney-gen.
rail said, as they walked oni togethber, it
rould be curious to notice whether any
lung ensued on tid, and they
greed to notice. lle was shot that
ight.'' Aere the dream iself was
ot remarkab'le, it, was such a one ns muighit
eadily be dreamed by a man from the
Veatern States who hasw been on broad
oimg rivera. Nor was Its recurrenice re
aarkable. 'Ilie noteworthy poiint was the
eccurreace of this direaml several tincs, and
as may be presumed fromi the eff'ect
which the dieaim produced on its third re
uirrence) thes~e three times only, on the
might pm ceding a great miisfortuine for the
ause of the North. Hlowever, there is
tothing in the story whIch cannot be attri
muted to merely easual coincidenice, though
lie colaucuce was suficiently curious. As
hree years had elapsed fromt the time of
inlni's leaithi when Stanton told Dickenis
lie story, it Is po.sible that the account
nay have been incorrect in sonie details.
O)pea (Outwmad.
TIhe storm-doors around the Postofilce,
it, Dectroit, open outwardly. This isn't for
Fear that a fire will ocegir andh a rush ensue,
mut It is arranged that way to make a manm
nadl. A mnii will go singing alonig the
street, smiling all over, amid bragging tc
luhnself how good-natured he Is, when end'
denly lie remecmbers that lie must maila
letter. lHe Is only one man, but the otherm
standl around to give advice.
The first man rushes up the step~s and
gives the door apush. It is solid as a rock,
and his miomentum generally carries his
knees and~ nose against the hard wood.
'Push I" yells the extra man.
The other step~s back and follows the
advice, but with no successful results. By
this time his smile has faded, his dlyspep~si
beglis to work up, and there is inidigna
tioni in -hia tones as he turns and asks.
"Is this blasted old Postoflice closed fo:
the day ?"
"Oh, no, sir. I guess you will get in Il
you push hard enough. I presumue th<
inges are a little rusty."
Then the mani returns to the charge. A
a rule he puits his shouldter to the door, shI
feet slip back, and he comes46wn in
giacef ul heap, to be laughed at by all th
boys. When lie gets up lie feels as it. W;
could lick any seven men, b~ut before h
has time to pick a fight the other advancO
andl says:
"Mighty curious about that door. Ah
.1 see-opens this way. You miight hay
ptushed all day and not got In."
The one who goes in Is too mad to pos
hIs letter. The one who stays on' shake
all over and keeps lia eye out for the next,
V e -a%.F v . 1 .J@ J'ww.
Tlne MaaUtfr and theSoldtor.
After the battle of Jena (the 141h of Oc
tober, 1806), a Prussian cornet and four of
his men found themselves cut off froim their
divitlon of the army.
After wanderlng about for some tine,
they at last came to a village, at.d dismoun.
ted at the door of the pastor's house, as the
most likely place at which they could ob
tain refreslnent.
It was late in the evening, and the house
door was closed. "Open the door,' cried
the cornet, a young man, who seemed to
thlink a soldier'e qua!itications were display
ed iu a blustering mannier. "Open at once,
or I'll have the door hewn into splinters "
"Who is there?" demanded the pastor.
"Open at once, sirrah, or I'll have your
window broken lii" cried the young man,
In a still more threatening tone. Meanwhile
his companions remained perfectly quiet.
Presently a servant opened the door.
Their leader stepped to, and soon showed
by his rude behavior how little lie merited
the title of "an officer and a gentleman."
Thu servant of the pastpr, who was de
votedly attached to hin, was the more su
noyed at this overbearing manner, since his
muster was most hospitable and courteous
to everyone; so he detoimmed that the
young ullicer shonid be punished a little for
his unseeuly conduct, and he set about do
ing it after this fashion.
The pastor, who was very foud of dogs.
possesed a spil3did English mastiff, which
Ie bought from an oileer who was going
back to his regimint. The animal had been
trained to watch the recruits wnen they
were bi-ing nmarehed through the country.
It was only necessary for his master to show
hun the recruit, with the words "Sultan,
a recruit," and Ie could rest assured that
the man would not escape. Especially
would the dog allow no one to leave a roon
when the words "a recruit" were uttered.
If such a one confided to his charge at
teipted to go to the door his goaler tirst
drew him genitly back by h. clothing; if
lie repeated trie attempt, he was drawn back
more forcibly; and if lie resisted, the mas
tilt would throw him to the ground, put his
paws on his breast, and call his naster with
louil bayings. Many a recruit had been so
obliged to lie or stand until the offlicer caime
and gave hinm his liberity by saying "Let
hinm pass."
The pastor was quietly standing with the
troopers in the yard, while his servant
Peter was alone in the room with the cor
net-who had thrown himself on a sota,
nid was comfortably reposing till the horses
were got ready. Bultan was quietly lying
behind the stove. Peter went L. him, poIn
tod to the cornet unperctived by the latter,
and whispered, "Sultan, a recruit," and
then went out. bultan leisurely get up,
strotched himself, and then gravely took
up his position in front of the young Sol
dier.
Presently one of t4e troopers called from
the yard tUrough the window, "When you
atre ready, Sir cornet, will yoa come?"
"At once," said the cornet; taking up
hia int and stick (which were then the fash.
ninb gloves.
Just as lie put lia hand On the latch,
Sultan suddenly placed himself between
the door and the cornet, and quietly drew
him away. Alnrmed. and suspecting treach
ery, the cornet drew his sabre, but before it
was well out of the scabbard lie was on his
back on the ground, Sultan standing over
hii and baying furiously.
"Are you out coming, Sir cornet?" cried
the troopers. "Surely you do not think we
are Ho very safe here!"
"llelp ie, thenl!" groaned the unhappy
cornet.
The pastor heard the commotion, and
the troopers dismounting, stepped into the
room, aind could not help laughing heartily
as they saw how andable and polite the
cornet wis to the iastilf.
"What are you doing with the dog?"
said oneo, while tine others laughed.
"Ah! I know not what, lie wants,'' said7 .
the popr cornet, who still lay under ultna's
feet, and was5 white with terror.
'rThe pastor soon guessed what Peter had
been doing, and lie called( the dog away,
but in vain; for Bultan iiad leatned his diuty
so well that he would take no countermand
fronm any one but tine person who had giv
en hmim tihe first, order..
'Te cornet wans obliged to remain where
he wias till Peter (wino took caire'to keep
out of the wnty) could be found. At last he
camie, anid when lhe saidl, "'Let him pass,''"
the dog releasedi the captive, who, a wher
man from thne lesson lie had received, took
lenive of tihe Pastor in a much miore civil
way than lhe had at dirst assumed.
liaising Snken Vessels.
An experlimnut recently took place in
the East India D~ock liasin, Blaciawall,
London, by lierisslon of Mr. J. I.. du
i'lat Tnaylor, tine secretary of the Dock
Company, for thte purpose of testing and'
lillustratingl the mode of raising sunken
ships by meoans bf the apparatus patented
by Mir. William Atkinson, naval engineer,
of Shefleld Theo machinery empl~oyed -
consists of the necessary numinber and size,a
accor~lhng to the power required, of oval
or egg-hapijed buoys constructed of sheot
iron, having an internal valve of a simuple
and effective character. Captain Hales
Dutton, the dock master, who assisted dur
lug the( operationsa, hnad placed his small
yacht at tine inventor's service for the oo..
casion. Theii vessel was moored in the
basin, and a sot of four buoys were at
taichedl to it, one on each sIde near the bow
anud tine stern. Air was supplied from a
piup on the quay by. a pipe commnunloat
lng withn a snnali COpperO globe resting oc
the (leek of the vesei, anid from which
platce proceeded four other flexible tubes.U
one to each buoy, tihus distributing the ai:
ato each one equally. The vese being
lloodled andi in a sinking condition, the
buoys wecre attached and thne valves opened;
they ratpndly fllied with water, and the
vessel imnmedhiately sank in about 30 feet.
pon thne first attempt an air chamber ina1
the stern had been lost sight of, causing
the vessel to come up to tine surface storn
muppermnost; this benng rectified, the vessel
was agauin senit to tine bottom, aund allowed
to remiain a shnort time to allow her to settle
down. When the order was given to work
thze pump, the vessel was brought to the
tirface, perfectly level, in about hree mdi
5 tea. The apparatus used, althougb only
odols, and on~ a comparatively dlnlnu
p . alo (the buoys mneasuing 8 feet 4
S 1n height and 1 feet 0 moihes la di.
was estirnated to be capable of
I weight of nearly 21 toins, aind that
it noeded, as represented by the patenW~
t only a correspoinding Increase la-the l~fi~g !.
s power to deal sueccessfully with vessol4 9
any tonnage.