The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, September 29, 1881, Image 1
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., SEPTEMBER 29, 1881. ESTABLISHED 1865.
ILIGHTED.
The maiden, smIling In a dream of biss,
Said: " Oladsome dais are coming; I shall be
Ilis beat beloved-for his farewell kIss
Spoke of a future full of love for me."
But ere tho year was passed, her hopes were
flown ;
She mourned alone I
The Ilunot, twittering on the winter thorn,
Said: " Wien the spring comes, all my song
shall thrill
The silent woods, and blossoms shall be born,
And gladness all my little life shall fill."
But ere sweet spring-blooms o'er the earth were
shed,
9 - - The bird was dead I
The floweret, pining for the summer heat,
Said : " When the sun comes, he will shine
on me;
And o'er my fragrant cup, with flying feet,
Shall pass the btrtterfly and humming bee."
But long ere summer came with heat, and light,
Fell the frost's blight I
0, mournful maiden, and poor blighted flower,
And little bird that pinetd for sunny spring,
Why were ye born In home, or wood, O' bower ?
Why thus was checked your harmless blossom
ing?
Why are dear hopes all o'er this sad earth chill
ed 7
And unfulfilled?
TIE ClUIE.
Its scene lies in one of the gayest
sea towns of Devonshire; One of those
bathing places which, for about three
months in every year, is astonished at
its own gayety.
No one more enjoyed the brief dissi
pation of her native tow Edithn than
Trevanion.
The heiress and beauty of the neigh
borhood, the darling of her father,
(mother sho,had none) the delight of her
circle, human life seemed to have made
an exception in her favor.
Poverty she only knew by the pleasure
of relieving it.
Within the last few months a still
deeper happiness had girdled her around.
She was engaged to a young man, of
family and fortune equal to her own;
and, more over, Arthur Raleigh was a
very handsome young man.
However, -wherever there is any love
is the case, there is never any want of a
few miseries as well.
Arthur was of a jealous temper, and
this is a sore temptation to a petted
child.
Edith knew her power, and did not
dislike using it.
In the meantime, the War office com
bined with fat.o againb 1o agmornatQ
ed in the town.
This was really too much. Poor Ar
thur was haunted by red coats.
No young lady's head in all the place
could run more upon the "officers" than
his own.
One day it was the fascinating captain
-the next it was the handsomo licuten
ant: till it even reached the interesting
ensign.
Edith Trovanion liked the increased
gaiety, she liked too the admiration and
the attention.
But her heart was irrevocably gone,
and the very thought of chango never
entered her head.
It was a very .hot morning-for the
summer had been unusually warm and
long-that they were standing on a ter
race which ran on the shady side of the
house.
Theiy were walking up and down a
little to Arthur's discontent, for lie had
been asking her to ride, which Edith re
fused on account of the extreme heat.
This had caused a Quarrel, and the
name of Captain Delaford had boonm men
tioned.
Of him Arthur was p)assionately jeal
ons, and left her in high dudgeon.
That evening there was to be a grand
dinner at the Trovanion house, to wvhich
the officers of the regiment were invited,
as wvell as a number of the leading resi
dents.
Never had Edith looked more beauti
ful than when she paused on the thres
hold of the old Gothic library, where
the guests wvere now for dinner, to still a
little fluttering at the heart before she
expected to meet Arthur.
She entered, a little flush on her
cheek, and a little sparkle in her cicar
blue eyes. --
1Hcr father came towards her and drew
her arm in his. He was almost an proud
as fond of his lovely child.
She gave one quick glance round thmo
library.
Arthur was not there.
Captain Delaford came forward1 with a
smile and a compliment.'
She scarcely answered him ;and it was
a positively relief when an old baronet
wvho had been sent into the world to be
a bore, and who from his cradle had ful
filled his destiny, camre forward, and
handed her to the dinner table.
.The longest dinner that Edith had
ever known was at length over;-but a
longer evening wan yet to come.
-She went with a large party from the
house to the ball, and she danced the
first dance with Captain Delaford.
Still Arthur never camne.
The party retturned to thoe hail; and it
was as much as Edith could (do to appear
the, attenitive and wvel-bred mistress
of the house.
Generally speaking, the little supper
after the diance, had been so gay; to
night it wVas dull-all said they wore
tired.
The visitors took up their candles, and,
as the door closett upon the last, Edith
threw herself into her father's arms and
burst Into tears.
HalIf in sobs, and half in words, her
story was told, and Mr. Trevanion was
at first very angry at Arthur Raleigh's
want of temper.
But Edith could not bear to have him
blamed, and she now made all sorts of
excuses for the jealousy which in the
morning seemed to her so unpardonable.
It was a lovely night, when feverish
and restless, she flung open the windows
of her dressing-room.
The moon was shining in a cloudless
sky, and the sea in the distance was
tremulous with light.
But there was a weight on Edith's
spirits which she could not shake off.
The clouds were begining to redden
in the east before she went to bed, and
the last words oii her lips were "Where
is Arthur ?"
Where, indeed, was he ?
When he left Edith, he rushed in a
paroxysm of rage to the seaside, vnd
there, bare-headed, ho amused himself
with walking up and down, cursing wo
man's fickleness and all good waltzers in
his heart.
Suddenly a little boat shot round one
of the small capes which so gracefully in
dent the coast, a youth sprang out, and
approaching Arthur, unperceived,passed
his arm through the wanderer's and ad
dressed him by name.
It was a college friend; and Arthur,
between anger and confidence, was soon
moved to tell his story.
"I will tell you what you shall do;
come with me into my boat, my yacht
waits me in the offing; we will have a
pleasant sail, a gay supper, and to-mnor
row, you, having so shown with what
spirit you can act, shall go and beg your
fair tyrant's pardon-or what is far bet
ter, let her beg yours."
Arthur was just in that sort of mood,
when we are ready to let any one decide
for us rather than ourselves.
He went with his friend, had a gay
supper; and did what lie could to drown
a few of Edith's frowns ini champagno.
He woke the next morning with a
headache, and the agreeable intelligence
that they were driven out to sea.
It was a week before they could land;
and when they did, of course Arthur's
first thought was to hasten to Edith.
For thie purpose, he was to put in at
the very creek which lie had left the
week before.
' "ia gay companion, "that
you must carry everything before you."
Arthur's step was as heavy as his
spirits.
He could not disguise from himself
that his strange absence must have inflic
ted a degree of most cruel anxiety and
lie dreaded to see Edith again.
The sound of a bell tolling for a fun.
eral did not add to his cheerfulness,
He had to pass by the little church
yard, and saw a group of people in the
one corner.
Surely they were gathered round the
old vault of the Trevanions.
He entered-the rattle of the earth on
the coffin struck upon his oar-the vault
was open, and the clergyman was read
ing the last sacred words that part the
the dead from the living.
He asked one question, and the
wretched young man heard the name of
-Edith Trovanion.
His sudden disappearance, and his
hat having been found oil the sea-shore,
led to thle belief, that lie had destroyed
himself.
This rep)ort had been hastily comn
nmunicated to Edith, and she had broken
a blood vessel.
Death followed instantly.
In the small churchyard, whose old1
yewvs are seen at a great distance out at
sea, is an old-fashioned monument-it
is the vault of the Trevanioni family.
The last inscription is
"R~dih Trevanlon, aged 19."
Indian Renies in Maine.
One of the most interesting localities
and onie of the latest unearthed in Maine,
is the Indiani place of executioni or tor
ture on Fort Island at the narrows, near
the mouth of Damariscotta River, seine
time ago, while Postmaster Oamaige and
Mr. Phelps were hunting for relics at
the above-named p)lace, they discovered,
among numerous fish spears, needles
and arrowheads, the remains of five
skeletons, apparently TIdians-the skulls
showing a very low order of intelliet
one skull of which they woere able to get
out niearly p)erfet, which is now ini
the possession of Dr. Chapman. They
found five undcr-jaws,one of them near
ly perfect, but none of them would fit
the skulls. One skull was very large;
they judged it to be nearly twice the
siz~e of the average, but so far decayed
that with the utmost care it could niot be
moved fronm the place where it lay..These
skeltons did not lie in any regular order,
bu ap~pea red to have been burned at a
stake, as a spaco of six teet square or
mole was cove,redl with ashes, charcoal
and rocks that had beeni exposod to fire.
The skul wovoe nearly face down and
but few other bones could ho0 rmioved
whole. The appoaraco indicated that
there had boon nnnerous victimis burned
at different times and the who,le was
covered with an accumulation of earth
and shells in four distinct layers one
foot in depth. They also found pottery,
the skulls of dooer, and jawvs of bears,and
one large stag or elk horn, Tinere is no
doubt but that diligent search will re
veal further evidence of a place of sav
age tortnre.
How Veneering is Made.
The logo are delivered in the mill yard
n any suitable lengths as for ordinary
umber. A steam drag cuts them into
iuch lengths as may be required by the
yrder in hand; those being cut at the
ime of our visit were four feet long. Af
er cutting,the logs are placed in a large
;team box,15 feet wide, 22 feet long,and
3 feet high, built separate from the
main building. This box is divided into
wo compartments. When one is filled
3ntirely full, the doors are closed, and
Lhe steam, supplied by the engine in
fhe main building, is turned on. The
l.gs remain in this box from three to
Eour hours, when they are ready for use,
This steaming not only removes the
bark, but moistens and softens the entire
log. From the steam box the log goes
to the veneer lathe. It is raised, grasped
at each end by lathes centres, and firm
ly held in position, beginning to slowly
revolve. Every turn brings it in con
tact with the knife, wflich is gauged to a
required thickness. As the log revolves
the inequalities of its surface of course
first com in contact with the keen
edged knife, and disappear in the shape
of Waste veneer, which is passed to the
engine room to be used as fuel. Soon,
however, the unevenness of the log dis
appears, and the now perfect veneer
comes from beneath the knife in a con
tinuous sheet,and is received and passed
on to the cuttiigitablo. This continues
until the log is reduced to about a seven
inch core, which is useless for the pur
pose. The veneer as it comes rolling
off the log presents all the diversity of
colors and the beautiful grain and rich
marking that havi perhaps for centuries
been growing to perfection in the silent
depths of our great forests.
From the lathe, the veneer is passed
to the cutting table,'where it is cut to
lengths and widths as desired. It is
then conveyed' to the second story,
where it is placed in largely dry rooms,
air tight, except as the air reaches them
through the: proper channels. The
yenecr is here placed in crates, each
piece separate and standing on edgo.The
hot air is then turned on. This comes
from the sheet iron furnace attached to
the boiler in the engine room below,and
is conveyed through large pipes regula
ted by dampers for putting on or taking
atihe'ivliieffle' >sNeP&6 ifr 111r)YR
dry rooms in constant motion, the air as
it cools passing off through an escape
pipe in the roof, while the freshly heated
air takes its place from below. These
rooms are also provided with a net-work
of hot air pipes near the floor. The tem
perature is kept at about 165 dg. and so
rapid is the drying process that in the
short space of four hours the green log
from the ateam box is shaved,cut, dried,
packed and ready for shipment.
After leaving the dry rooms it is as
sorted, counted and put in packages of
one hundred each, and tied with cords
like lath, when it is ready for shipment,.
Birds-eye maplo veneer is much more
valuable and requires'more care than al
most any other, and this is packed in
cases instead of tied in bundles. The
drying process is usually a slow one, and
conducted inl open sheOds simply exposeCd
to the air.
Stained Fioors.
First see that, the floor is perfectly
smooth, clean and dry. spots of paint
may be removed with a hot soldtion of
washing soda;i a piece of sandpaper or
pumice stone will help to smooth out any
rough places, and if the floor is an old one,
the cracks and crevices should be filled in
with put.ty, otherwise they will gather dust
and finally mar the beauty of the work.
Trho paint to be used for coloring, cornea
ground in oil andi put up in small cane.
Boiled linseed oil, colored with burnt
umber, thus prepared, makes a very good
imitation of walnut. The staining mix
ture can be bought ready mixed in cans,
but will need to be thinned with turpentine;
it is more economical to mix it yourself.
An excellent effect may be obtained by
mixing a can of Vandyke brown with one
of burnt sienna ; this color is to be t,hinned
with turpentine and raw lIpseed oil, a
quart of oil to a pint of turpentine with a
little Japanese dryer, Thue preparation,
when complete, slhould flow freely, thec
object being, not to paint the floor, but to
stain it, and for this reason the grain of the
wood must show through, which it will
not do if the mixture is used thick.
Too much turpentine will make the stamn
rub off easily, too much oil will make it
st,icky and long in dIrying. When the
happy medmum is arrivedl at, and the work
ready to be begun, see that the floor ia
thoroughly clean and dry, then provide
yourself with a good sized paint brush,
two clean, soft woolen rags of a dark color,
and a pair of old glovecs. Apply the paint
with the brush andI don't be sparing of it,
then with one cloth rub it inito the wood
(always with the grain), until all the pores
and cracks are well filled, after which rub2
with the othier cloth till the stain ceases to
cOme off. The longer and hat der the rub
bing the better, the object being to have
the dry wood absorb all the oil possible.
If the floor Is not dark enough when dry
apply another coat. after which it may be
finished with thin shellac varnish, mixed
with a little of the staining mixture. It
will make a handsome finish to -polish the
boards with beeswax and turpentine.
shave half a pound of yellow beeswax
and soak it twenty four hours im two quarts
of turpentine. Apply this mixture with
a woolen cloth until the wood is glossy and
smooth, repeatina: the application as ofter
as necessary to obtain the desired effect.
It is a good deal of work, to be sure, but
very satisfactory in the end, as the floor ia
not readily soiled, and never needs scrub.
bing. A damp cloth will remove all dust,
and an occasional application of the polish
ing fluid will prevent the surface from
gowing dngy.
An Unpieasant 11itch.
"I hate to see a hitch in a weddin,"
remarked a farmer from out Jamaica
way, as he dropped into the counting
room with a nuptial notice. "It looks
bad and it makes talk."
"Anything wrong about this wedding?"
asked the clerk, as ho made change for I
the old mnan.
'Nothing positively wrong, but it
didn't launch like I want to see things
of tbat kind. You soon by the notice
that Buck Thomas was niarrin' Mary
Biff, and at one time we begun to think
they never would get through the cere
mony."
"What was the hitch ?"
"Why Buck is a Methodist and Mary 1
is a 'Piscopalain, and as one wanted one
service, and the other another, they
patched up som kind of ii scheme to
have both. Neither would go to the
other's church, but each had their own
minister, and the weddin' come off in
the school house. The 'piscopal miin
ister married Mary and t)he methodist
undertook to marry Buek, and thero
they was takin' alternate ,whaeks at the
thing, and neither payin' any attention
to the other. The methodist brother
fired off a sermon first, and the bride
sat down and went to sleep. Then the
'piscopalain said as how we'd all drop
pod in to see that woman j'ined, but he
wouldn't say who to, amd wanted to
know if there was any objections, That
started up the methodist. 'who began to
ask Buck if he knew what a solemn
business lie was peggin' at, and if lie
really meant trade. All that time the
'piscopalain was howlin' around about
'this woman,' and Mary was sayin' she'd
do this and that and the other. The
methodist was marrin' away on his side,
and finally they brought up agin a
stump.
"How's that ?" asked the clerk.
"Well, the 'piscopalian wouldn't rec
ognize Buck or his minister, and tho
methodist wouldn't have nothin' to do
with Mary or '.1r prOacher. an4.thore
was n1o way of gittin' 'em togdthbr.
Everything was all ready except askin'
thom if they'd tako each other, and
neither one of 'em would do it. Mary
and Buck was standin' hand in hand,
and the crowd was gettin' hungry."
"In what respect ?" inquired the
'Because there was )1o on io pro.
nounce 'em man and wifo. Buck tried
to reason Mary into lettin' the methodist
do that part, and Mary argued with
Buck and tried to persuade him into lis
tenin' to her preacher;but it was no use.
That brought on another row, and as it
was gittin' nigh on to dark, we all felt
that somethin' ought to be done, as we'd
been there most all day."
"Well, did they get married ?" asked
the tired clerk.
"Yes; we fixed it up. The ministers
was gittin' pretty mad at each other, but
they agreed that they'd each attend to
their own flock, so the methodist said 'I
now pronounce you man,' and the 'pis
copalian said. 'I now pronounceo you
wife,' and they let it go at that. Then
Buck paid the methodist, and the 'pis
copalian wante1 to know where lie came
in. Buck said he'd hired his mani and
paid him, and, as he was not responsi
ble for his wife's foolishness before a
marriage, her parson could whiatle for
his wealtn. I guess there'll 1)e a law
suit about it, for the piscop)alian says
he'll have half of that fi' dollars if it
takes a leg off to tho armpit. I don't
like to soo them hitches at weddin's. It
.don't look right, and it ain't bunsineuss."
With which reflection the old mana
buttoned up his change and drovo homoo
in dleep mneditreion.
Dycing and Coloring Floweors.
Dyeing is especially used for the red
Xeranthenmum annum fi. p1., red Asters,
and all kinds of ornamental grasses. Mix
ten parts of fresh water with one part of
goon nitric acidl, plunge the flowers in,
shake off the liquid and hang them up to
dry. In this way Xeranthemums, which
should be cut when entirely open will
acquire a beautiful bright red tint; while
grasses only become a little pale red on
the tops, but will keep afterwards for many
years, and may, if needed, be colored
otherwise at any time. Asters generally
when treated in this way, are not so fine
as if dried in sand, or smoked with briun.
stone. To color flowers and grasses blue,
violet, red, scarlet and orange, use the dif
forent kinds of aniline; for yellow use
picrid acid, and for bright scarlet use
borax.
The aniline dye should be dissolved in
alcohol b(efore it is fit for use, in which
condition it should be kept in well-closed
bottles until it is required. It may also
be purchased in a dissolved condition of
any respectab)le chemist. To color by
means of aniline, take a porcelain or any
other well-glazed vessel, pour in seine boil
ing water, and add as much aniline as will
nicely color the water. According to the
-quantity of aniline used, the color of the
flowers will become more or less bright,'
-After the water has cooled a little, plunge
in the flowers or grasses, and keep them in
it till they are nicely colored ; thon rinse
in cold water, shake off thme liquid and
hang them up In the open air to dry.
To obtain a fine blue, take analine bleu
do lian, boil the color with the water for
five minutes, and then add a few drops of
sulphuric acidi before using. For violet,
use one part aniline riolet and one part of
aniline bleu do llan; for red, aniline fuchm
sin; fer scarlet, one part of anahine fuchi
sin and one of aulino violet; for orange,
analine d'orange ; for lemon color, picric
acid, which should be dissolved ini boiling
water and then thinned with a little warm
water. DIp in the flowers, but not drain
of the liquid.
All kinds of ornamental grasses can be
hue colord (especially Stila pennata and
nunnobium alatum) white Xerauthemunms,
,id most other everlasting flowers. Im.
nortelles, however, as well as the othei
inds of IIelichrysuims, must be treate
lifferently ; their natural yellow color musi
ordt be extracted by dipping lhem in boil.
ng soap water, made with Italian soap,
imd afterwards dried in an airy, shad3
)lace. Tne ll,)wers generally becom(
.losed when thus treated, and should I
)laced near s:n oven, and subjected to thi
niluence of a dry heat, when they wil
ioon reopen. This is very inportant I:
hey arc intended t0 be colored; if not,
hey will remain fine pure wli'.o Iminor
eles. Most Imnmol telles, however, an
.olored bright scarlet by means of borax
4hieb gives a beautiful iolor; but it doe
Apt keep well, and becomes gradualli
paler. For this >urpose, aissolve as inucl
>orax in boiling water as will color i
iicely; when cool, dip the flowers, but d<
iot allow them to remain after they hav
aken the color; if kept in too long, thel
vill not again open their flowers.
The chief point in every mode of color
ng Inmnortelles is to place them first, in i
Iry, warm atmosphere, where they wil
>pen their flowers well ; and after colorinj
Lhey should again be exposed to heat. b,
which means they will nearly always re
>pen them. Very nice looking Immortel
Ces arc also produced by coloring only thi
,entre of each tiower scarlet, which is don
very rapidly with borax, by means of i
3mall pencil or a thin Wooden splinter
which is (lipped into the color and after
wards applied to tie centre. This is gene
rally done by little children in those estall
lisiients in Germany and Fiance whiel
uiply the trade with everlasting flowers.
Finally, I shail give a very cheap an
very good recipe to clor ornamental gras
and moss a beautiful green: If a darl
green is required, take two pints of boilin
water, one ounce of alum, and half al
>unce of dissolv.-O indigo cariine; plung
(lie moss or grass into the mixture, shak
Z>f the liquid, and dry the grass or mos
in an airy, shady place. In the wintei
however, they should be dried by meau
of fireheat. If a light green is required
id to the above mixture more cr lef
pieric acid, according as a more or les
light shade is required.
Chemical Paradoxes.
We are accustomed to associate th
idea of combustibility with paper. If ,
be wrappel tightly around a mnetalli
rod it can be held ini a gas-flame witl
out burning. The metal carries tli
heat away from it as fast as applied, b4
coming hot itself. After awhile it wi
reach 0 temperatu tire, provided the flanm
is large i'monuglh, at which the paper wi
burn. The tiamec plienomenon caln I
vessel of paper, filling . it with wate:
and applying heat. No matter how lii
the flame over which it is placed ma
be, it. will not burn. The water wi
hoil, and the heat be absorbed, or rei
dered latent, in the production of stean
An egg can be boiled in a paper sauei
pan. A sieve nay ho made to hol
water or to float. If the interstices n
very fine and the wire bright and dra
the water '%ill not wet it, because a filb
of air will adhoro to the wires. Tl
lower surface of the water is divided b
the meshes into a number of li.]
spheroidal projections. iii which tli
capillary force or internal gravitatic
and also cohesion come into play. Thei
hold the water together so that son
considerable power im r,qiuired to for<
the water through the meshes. Thi
wec can put quite a quanity of wvater in
fine siev'e, or place one in water, and
will float. If the wires are not- perfec
1ly bright we muny distlib)ute over the
surface some powder which water wi
not wvet. The dust of bituminous cc
is excellent. Carrying out this princ
plo, needless, if bright, may be made i
float without the least trouble, and wi
float for a long tirae.
Water is to be made to boil by coli
A flask half lull of water is mnainitain<
at chumllition for some nmu tes. It
removed from the source of heat,corket
inverted and placed in one of thei rinj
of a retort stand. If cold water is pourt
on the upltuirned b)ottomi of the flask tI
fluid will start into a violet "obullitio1
Thej1 upper portioin of the flask is fllk
with steam wvhich maintains it corta:
pre'ssuire on the water. By cooling ti
ulpper portion of the flask some of th
is !onidensBed, and the pressuroe reducce
Thle tempe)rature at which wvater boi
varies with pressure. When it is r
duced, water b,oils at a lower heat. I
pouring the cold water over the flask v
condense the steam so that the water
hot enough to boil at the reduced pre
sure. To assert that water boils by ti
appllicatio'i of cold is chemical sophisi
lug liridges.
A ccording to the Heleintif c A morica;
the largest masonry arch in the world-i
arch which forms part of one the most Ir
portant engmneering achievsemnts of rece
years-Is the aqueduct by which the ci
of Washington Is supplied with wate
'the arch m question carries the aquedu
over Cabin John Creek, with a span of 25
feet. The heIght of the arch Is 101 fec
and the witdh of the structure 2') feet. TI
arch forms the arc of a circle, having
radius of 134,285 feet. When the coat
scaffolding was ren\uovedh, theo arch (unItl
all other wvorks of the kind) did not setti
the keyatone havmng been set In wint
uand the centre struck in summer. TI'
other notable masonry arches of U)
World are the Chester arch across the riv
Dee, at Chest.er, England, with a span.
200 feet; the famuous centre arch of t1
new London brIdge ever the Thames, wi
a span of 152 feet ; Pont-y-Prydd over t
Taft, In Wales, 140 feet ; the bridge acr<
the Selne, at Neully, France, with fi
spans, each of 128 feet ; the nine spans
the Waterloo Brieo of London, each 1
feet ; and the celebrated marble Rial
Bridge in Venice, wIth a span of 98j fel
The soul of libet.v is the love of ln:
Nana, the Apache Chief.
Nana is not hereditarily a chief, but hai
probably more influence with the Mezcal
leros, a Iribe of Apaches-so called iron
their fondness for inezcal, the Americat
aloe-than any other man. 1i1 really tric<
to be good once, I believe, that is as gooi
as an Apache can ever hope to be, bu,
with all his influence that of the bucki
under him was stronger, and he had t<
obey their b hests or lose his power. Lik
all his nation Nana Is short of stature
wears a full, round face, eyes that dar
fieudish light whenever be looks at you, I
slight body, thin arns and well-develope(
calvol, the latter peculiarity coming fron
the habits of ruinnlig early inculcate<
aiong all those Indians. I first saw hin
at Fort Grant, a post at the junction o
the San Pedro and Arivipa rivers in Ar
sons, in 1805, and I should judge him t<
have been thirty-two years old at tha
time. He and ile Mezcalleros, with a lo
of Tontos-Spanish for fools--anolie
tripe of the Apaches, cane to the fort ant
camped, saying they wanted to be hlcIpc
and taught to farm. Th6re must hav<
been two hundred of them in all and in,
men dtg a ditch to irrigate land for them
but they only stayed a while. To soni
further question relative to the Apache
the major replied that in 1865 they wer
not on reservations and were armed for th
most part with bows and arrows, whic]
are not effective at a distance greater that
thirty yards, but since then they have se
cured the best kind of Vinchesters o
other magazine guns and secum to have n<
difficulty in procuring cartridges ad libil
- um. They are a puny race, filthy as th
Diggers in habits and appearance and wea
a shirt and belt and moccasins madeof aij
telope or coyote hides amd are utterly de
titute of tineiy of any description. The
will eat, steal or kill anything possali]
and don't know the meaning of the wor,
faith. The Navajoe, some of whom ar
asid to have joined the Mezcalleros, ar
just the reverse of the Apaches so far l
3 physique and appearance are concerned
and are tall, well formed, muscular an
a handsome.
"I will tell you," went on the majo
8 "one lucidient that came under my persoE
a al observation that shows the inarvellot
endurance and vigor of the A pache squawk
During one of the absences of the ban
from Fort Grant I destred to induce thei
to return and go to work, and the onl
o messenger I could get was a young woia:
t a sister-in-law of Nana himself. She stai
c ed for the mountain camp on horseback
riding a ]a clothes-pin--and returned I
forty-eight hours, having beei successfi
0 in her mission. The distance traveled wt
150 miles, and during the trip she gav
birth to a child, which she brought bac
0 alive. The lndians called the youngst<
La Pace, because its mother lhad acted i
a peacemaker. One more incident, th
e one about poor Calhoun. He was lyin
neTifi3nidi'6 'Illf tIL'bUMll flI. 1119 k
Ot g'.ing to play sick,' sa(d lie; see what I
will do.' Accordingly he groaned as if !
Y great pain, and the interpreter explaluc
1 to the native physician that he was vai
- sick. The aboriginal Esculapius advan
ed slowly to the bedside, made a lot <
passes over Calhoun's person and th
spat full in his face. The way that pse
sick man kicked his doctor out of the tot
0 wouli have made you laugh until sui
P, yourself."
0 Chteap l'aintinug.
y
0 "WhOre do tIe CeCap PictUre. con
o from?"
n "Oh, they aro painted by artists wih
0 having a little skill, are able to mal
e pictures that will satisfy ordinary pc
o plo. There are many persons who hia
Ls such a small degree of artiptic tasto th
a am paintinig is to them merely so mins
it square feet of colored canvas. If V1
t- colors are laid onm thickly and are brig)
ir hued, these piatronms of so-called art ia
11 satisfled. The trado in cheap p)ictiur
11 is much larger than a person who is n
i- familiar with tho subject wvould suphpoi
o I know of a man who employs from fl
I1 teen to twventy young mon and womn'
in copying piicturcs. The work is doi
1. in the top) loft of a building on Ohur<
d street, niear the corner of Blarclay stret
is Now York. Th'le specimens that ai
I, turned out at this establishmont are
is most enough to make Michael Angi
d rise from his grave to wreak vengean
te upon the personsi who are bringing (1
1. credit upon an art that lie did so inn
id to exalt ini his day."
ni A repiorter visited tihe p)icture mani
0o factory. lie anscentded the croakii
is flights of stairs, and when he arrived
1. the to1) he was confronted with a noti<
ls which was posted upon01 the dloor, at
- 'read : ' No admission to the stud
'Y without permission from the ofli
'O The visitoir wvondered where the ofil
iswas located, as lie saw iio indication
s- such an institution about the p)romis
10 Finally lie concluded to rap at the dot
-. A man with a very bushy head of hi
responded,
"Will you direot mne to the office
t,the studio ?" the reporter asked.
S"Well, we don't have an office nIoV
was the rel."We oml had
yoflce on the floor belowv, but biiinen
r. dropped off' a little, aiid we wanted
DL save on the rent, and so we g.m,ve it 1
0 and moved the iron safe, hooks and de
eup into the studio."
a "Will you permit mae to go in and ho
re at your pictures ?"
co " Certainly ; walk ini,"
C, Tihe visitor entered and found hims
in the midst of a busy scene. A doi
le artists, each of whom wvas young
or years, we hard at work. They w<
of making copies of paintings. One you
10 woman had before huer a rural se
which she was industriously copying,
se "Do you make an exact copy of i
no original ?" she was asked.
of "' I uisually do," she replied, "l;
20 sometimes I put a little criginality Ii
t.my pictures.
The proprietor of the studio, w~
iv. stood near when the yong womain mr
the abovo reply, said :' Oh, she is
j original in her work-almost too much
- so for imy interests. For instance, she
was copying a picture entitled ' The
Old Homestead' the other day. In the
original there was a representation of a
horse standing under a true. When I
a came around to see how the copying
was progressing I. found that she had
painted her horse with a very chunky
body and short legs. I told her that I
did not like the looks of that horse, and
I that the best thing she could do was to
rub it out and paint it over again. Well,
I left her, supposing that she would obey
my instructions., In a short time I re
turned to make another examination of
the work. You can judge of my sur
L priso when I tell you that a cow had
actually taken the place of the horse
under the tren. Upon inquiring I
ascertained that the lady artist had put
horns upon the condemned horse, thus
changing the animal into a fair repre
sentation of the creature that furnishes
usN with cream for our cofeo."
3 "Where do you obtain your models
3 for copying ?"
I "Frora the artists in the Tenth street
and Chr.'stian Association building stu
r diog. When they paint a picture for
which they cannot find a ready sale,
they roht it to us, and we make from
0 fifty to one hundred copies of it. We
r can afford to throw these copies upon
the market at a very low figure. Many
of our pictures find their way into -the
auction rooms."
"How about prices ?"
"Woll, we do the best we can; but we
have often been compelled to sell pie
tures for $2 or $3 that' cost us twice as
much to produce."
" Does the chromo business interfere
with the sale of cheap pictures ?"
e "Yes, to a certain extent ; but not as
much as might be supposed. There are
imany who prefer a bad painting to a
f good chromo, because they think the
latter bears upon its face tho imprint of
cheapness. These porsons are like
- loplo who aro willing to pay a good
U prive for second-class frescoing rather
[I than have their walls covered with
Shandsomely printed paper, which can
k )e purchasod almost for a song. I am
r glad that this mistaken taste exists
8 among tho pople for its existence en
a ables a lot of poor creatures to earn a
1>recarious livolihood. I know of several
ic selves and their families by copying
n paintings. There are othors who turn
d an honest ponny by coloring photo
graphs. It is really surprising how the
f latter branch of the business has grown
u up within the last five or six years.
10 Some of tho artists who are engaged in
it retouching of photographs produce
cheap work of a fair quality. They have
the 'knack' of fixing a sun picture of a
plain-looking person so that it will look
really handsome. There are artists ad
1 vanced in years who, in their younger
days, could do first-class work, but
3 whose right hand has now lost its cun
1 ning. Becoming reduced in circum
stances, they are compelled to do 'botch'
work as a means of keeping soul and
body together."
Labunrniuim Mood Necklaces.
10 (raceful necklaces similar to those made
it n the West Indies can be termed from
r'e the laburnum. TIhe seeds should be gath
es cred when quite ripe, and getting black ;
of indeed, it is thought sometimes an im
e. p)rovement to leave thorn hanging on the
tree exposeCd to a frost. Still this is not
~necessary, for they may be collected earli
er in the year, and, if desired darker, it is
10 easy to soak them In a little ink or Jud
hi son's brownm or black dye. The latter
t, process also helps to soften the seeds, and
which is of advantage when threading
themn; so, If no dye be used, they should
1- De left in water for a few hiours, and thou
In be well dried on a soft cloth. The neck
ee laces can be made in several patterns ; and
.a fine needle, with either black or brown
isilk, will be found best foi' stringing.
'There should be six or seven strands for a
necklace, each covered by the seeds for
ui- about I we inches, and then all the threads
ig passed through a large bead. Goldj or sl
at ver looks very pretty ; also rainbow may
be used with good effect. Continue thus
' -until long enough to fasten round the
dthroat, and in finishing add a clasp. An.
10 other way of arranging these seeds is to
."cut a few small medallions or strips of
ee cork, about ani inch and a quarter long and
ofhalf an inch wide, coyering them with
o black velvet. Trhroughi these narrow
-" p)icces, instead of the beads, let each strand
~r. be passed separately at a slight interval,
ir Every row should have a few extra seeds
threaded, so that the top may measure one
ofinch, anti the others gradluated until the
the lowest would be two inches wide be
t ween the bar, of velvet, TIhus the neck
,"lace will take the foran of a series of tiny
[m festoons or scallops. Several strings Of
8the seeds sImply twisted in a coil or rdlpe
to look neat. A pretty necklace may .be
formed from several straight rows of seeds
p~, and sinall steel beads, threadIng about si
ik seeds to every bead. The lowest row
should have a fringe, and this can be made
ok by covering the slk with soods and bea4s,
for six inches, and then passing the needle
through a bead five inches back. A eon
tlnuation of this will form a good fringed
nlf strandl, which should be deeper in theiront
en than at the back. \When a neghgeeo, to
in knot loosely round the throat, is desired,
ire t should be made twice as long as a neck,
lace, andi be fluished by tassels. These
gcan 1)e firmly attached by bemrX made oin
o0, the ends of silks used for the middle of -
the negligee, passing them all through a
ho la.rge bead, threading the seeds, aiid loop.
lng Into a fringe. Or, the etids of sij cn
be run through a tiny black worste4bi
ut and the seeds laced over for the ts6
ito head.
ho A mani's best wealth onght to ehint
ide soel