The Darlington herald. (Darlington, S.C.) 1890-1895, May 06, 1891, Image 1
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THE DARLINGTON HERALD.
VOL. I.
DARLINGTON, S. C., WEDNESDAY, MAY 6, 1891.
NO. 35.
CHURCHES.
Presbyterian Church. —Rev. J. G.
Law, Pastor; Preaching every Sabbath
at Hi a. m. and 8 p. m. Sabbath
School at 10 a. m., Prayer Meeting every
Wednesday afternoon at 5 o’clock.
Methodist Church. - Rev. J. A. Riee,
Paator; Preaching every Sunday at Hi
a. m. and 8 p. m., Sabbath School at 5
p. m., Prayei Meeting every Thursday
at 8 p. m.
Baptist Church.—Rev. G. B. Moore,
Paster; Preaching every Sunday at Hi
a. in and 8:80 p. m., Prayer Meeting
every Tuesday at 8 p. w.
Episcopal Chapel.—Rev. W. A.
Guerry, Rector; II. T. Thompson, Lay
Reader. Preaching iird Sunday at 8:80
p. m., Lay Reading every Sunday morn
ing at 11 o'clock, Sabbath School every
Sunday afternoon at 5 o’clock.
Macedonia Baptist Church.—Rev
I. P. Breckington, Pastor; Preaching
every Sunday at H a. m. and 8:30 p. m.
Sabbath School at 3:30 p .m., Prayer
Meeting every Tuesday evening at 8:30
o’clock.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
Sheriff.—W. P. Cole.
Clerk of Court.—W. A. I’arro.t
Treasurer.—J. E. Bass.
Auditor.—W. II. Lawrence.
Probate Judge.—T. II. Spain.
Coroner. —R. G. Parnell.
School CoMMtsstoNER.—W. H. Evans.
County CoMMissroNERg.—C. B.King,
W. W. McKinzie, A. A. Gandy.
Professional Curbs.
w.
F. DARGAN,
ATTORNEY’ AT L A YV.
Darlington, C. H., 8. C.
Office over Blackwell Brothers’ store.
£ KEITH DARGAN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Darlington, S. C.
JJETTLES & NETTLES,
ATTORNEY'S AT LAW,
Darlington, C. H., 8. C. •
Will practice in all State and Federal
Courts. Careful attention will be given
to all business entrusted to us.
SPRING SONG.
So many ways to wander in,
So many lands to see!
The west wind blows through the orchard-
close.
And the white clouds wander free:
The wild birds sing in the heart of spring,
And the green boughs beckon me.
And it’s oh, for the wide world, far away,
’Tis there I fain would be.
For it calls me, claims me. the livelong day.
Sweet with the sounds and the scents of
May,
And the wind in the linden-tree;
The wild birds sing in the heart of spring.
And the green boughs beckon me.
“Far and far. in the distance dim.
Thy fortune waiteth tbee M — -
T know not where, but the world is fair
With many astrange countrie;
The wild birds sing in the heart of spring,
And the green boughs beckon me.
So many ways 1 may never win,
Skies I may never see!
Oh, wood-ways sweetfor the vagrant feet,
What may not come to be?
What do they sing in the heart of spring?
And where do they beckon me?
Farewell, farewell, to my father's house!
Farewell, true love, to thee!
Dear, and dear, are the kind hearts here,
And dear mine own roof-tree—
But the wild birds sing in the heart of
spring,
And the green boughs beckon me.
—Graham R. Tomson, in Scribner.
p BISHOP PARROTT,
stenographer and t y p E-WRITER,
LEGAL AND OTHER COPYING SOLICITED.
Ttitimony leported in short baud,
and type written transcript of same fur
nished at reasonable rates.
Good spelling, correct punctuation
and neat work guaranteed.
Office with Nettles & Nettles.
c.
P DARGAN,
ATTORNEY AT • : LAW
AND TRIAL JUSTICE,
Darlington, S. V.
Practices in the United States Court
and in the 4 th and Sth circuits. Prompt
attentioa to all business entrusted to me.
Office, Ward's Lane, next to the Dar
hngton Herald office.
DARLINGTON MARBLE WORKS.
DARLINGTON MARBLE WORKS.
DARLINGTON MARBLE WORKS.
—ALL KINDS OF-
MARBLE MONUMENTS,
MARBLE MONUMENTS,
Tablets and Grave Stones furnished at
Short Notice, and as Cheap as
can be Purchased Else
where.
iy Designs and Prices Famished on
Application.
tw All Work Delivered Free on Line
of C. * D. R. R.
DARLINGTON MARBLE WORKS,
DARLINGTON MARBLE WORKS,
DARLINGTON, S. C.
FIRE! FIRE!
I Represent Twelve of the most
Reliable Fire Insu lance Compa
nies in the World—Among
them, the Liverpool and Lon
don and Globe, of England, the
Largeet Fire Campany in the
World; and the AStua, of Hart
ford, the Largest of all Ameri
can Fire Companies.
Prompt Attention to Business and
Satisfaction Guaranteed.
F. E. NORMENT,
DARLINGTON, 6. C.
Office between Edwards, Norment &
Co., and Joj A Sanders’.
The Long-Exnected Letter,
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
The yellow narcissus was all in blos
som in the little yard that fronted the
village postoffice; the maple trees had
dropped their red stars long ago, and
here and there one found pink clus
ters of honey-sweet trailing arbutus in
the woods.
Isabel Islay had a bunch In the front
of her jacket as she sauntered up to see
if there were any letters; hut they were
no pinker than her cheeks.
A little group of men and women had
assembled there for the same purpose.
The women eyed Isabella, and wondered
how it was that her dresses always “set
so stylishly;” the men looked admir
ingly at her big blue eyes and rosy com
plexion.
Two or three other mill girls joined
her; they laughed and talked gaily as
the spectacled old postmaster sorted the
mails.
At last the unpainted pine partition
slid back, the spectacles appeared in
the aperture and the postmaster cried,
briskly:
“Naow, then! Who wants their
maill”
Isabella stepped briskly forward.
“Anything for me, Mr. Riderl” said
she.
“Islay, Miss I. Isabel Islay. 'Miss
Isabel Islay!”’ read out the old man.
“Three for you. Who next?”
“Isabel gets all the letters!” giggled
the mill girls, as Isabella received her
treasures. “She might divide with usl
Hear comes Miss Seaman. Now foi
some fun 1”
A pallid, pinched, old-young lady
here advanced with a smirk on her coun
tenance, and a faded shawl, whose folds
scarcely covered the Hat basket that she
carried.
“Anything for me, Mr. Postmaster?”
she demanded, with ill-simulated indif
ference.
“No, mum!” carelessly answered th<
official.
“Arc you sure?”
“Yes’m!”
"Oh!” A blink expression crepl
across her face. “But it really don’t
signify. 1 just thought I’d inquire, as
I chanced to be passing.”
And she withdrew, amid the very
audible titters of the mill girls.
“There aiu'l a mail comes in,” said ths
postmaster, oracularly, “but Miss Genu;
Seaman’s here a-watchin’ for it. And
she never gits a letter—not so much ai
a postal card. I should think she’d gil
tired o’ runnin’.”
“Miss Genevieve Seaman?" said th«
careworn woman of the house where the
mill girls boarded. “Oh, that all hap
pened years ago! She had a beau, oi
suthin’, and he went away—nobody jesl
knew whar. Reckon she didn’t know
herself. And it sort of upsot her brain,
and she hain't fairly been herself sence.
She's a very good dressmaker, and she
trims a bonnet quite scrumptiously, and
so she earns a decent livin’. But she's
been expectin’ a letter this twenty-odd
year, an’ it's never come.”
“Girls,'’ said Isabel Islay, as they sat
at the round table that evening, laughing
and talking, “it’s near the first oi
April! Let’s write a letter to that poor
old thing from her lover in the East.”
“Was he her lover?" said Lucy
Felton.
“Well, from the man she imagined
to be her lover. Let’s make it fervent
as fire and sweet as sugar. Let’s lay it
on thick.”
“In short, let’s make an April Fool of
Miss Genny Seaman," said Mary Crane,
who was retriming an old hat with lilac
ribbons and a bunch cf violets.
“Just that,” said Isabel.
“But you don’t even know the fellow’s
name.”
“I can find that cut. Mis. W’ebb
knows, and I can easily coax it out of
her. It will be such fun!”
It was the morning of the first of April
—a blue skied, breezy day, with the air
full of growing scents end bluebird
whistles—and soon after the cumbrous
old four-horse stage had crashed through
the village, the usual crowd began to
assemble in the little postotlice.
Isabel Islay was there, and Lucy Felton,
and black-eyed Mary Crane; and present
ly Miss Genevieve Seaman came trip
ping in with the peculiar gait which the
irreverent village children compared to a
cat walking upon walnut shells.
“Two for Miss Islay,” said the old
man, scrutinizing each letter with pro
voking slowness. “One for Squire Zurab-
bable Jenkins; one for Widder Hopper,
and one for—Miss—Genevieve—Sea
man!”
Isabel flashed a merry glance at her
companions as the poor little dress maker
tiptoed up to the counter, her color
changing from safforn to scarlet, her
faded blue eyes full of intent rapture.
“Is it true?” said she. “A letter for
—me? And I’ve waited for it all these
years? all—these—years?”
She hid it under her shawl, cast a de
fiant look around at the neighbors’ faces
and hurried away, like a startled wild
animal to its cover.
She could not open that letter with
other eyes upon her. She felt that she
must treasurs it to herself, like one who
has discovered a precious jewel.
Isabel Islay stopped at the little bouse
where the tin sign, “Millinery and
Dressmaking,” swung creek ing in the
wind that evening, on her way home
from the mill.
The window blinds were fastened
hack, the parlor was opened and dusted.
Miss Genevieve was moving through
and fro, in her best India silk gown,
with a flower pinned fantastically in her
lustreless hair.
A round, red spot glowed on each
cheek; her bony fingers trembled with
excitement as she laid down her specta
cles.
“Can you press over my Leghorn fiat,
Miss Seaman?” asked the beauty.
“Oh, my dear, I’m afraid not!" said
the little woman, with a hysterical laugh.
“Haven’t you heard 1 I—I’m to he mar
ried very soon! Captain Edward Glea
son—you may perhaps have heard of him
—he used to he a resident of Milltown
—he has made his fortune, it seems, in
New York, and he’s coming back almost
directly to—to claim an old promise I
made him twenty years ago. My dear,
he has loved me—twenty years!”
Her eyes shone, her roice faltered
with the ecstasy of her soul.
“And to-morrow he is coming back to
me. Oh, Miss Islay, it seems almost lik',
a dream!”
She laughed again, hut her eyes were
full of tears.
Isabel moved uneasily, she was almost
frightened at what she had done. The
joke did not seem half so jocose as it had
at first, since poor Miss Genevieve ac
cepted it in such dead earnest.
She took advantage of the entrance ol
a customer to slip out of the little shop.
“Girls,” said she to her co-conspira
tors, “we must tell her that—that it is
only an April Fool!”
“Tell her!” echoed Lucy Felton.
“What for? She'll find it out soon
enough. She nccd'nt have been such a
silly, anyhow!”
“It will kill her!” pleaded Isabel.
“No, it won’t. People don’t die so
easily,” laughed Lucy.
“Heard the news about Miss Genny
Seaman?” said Mrs. Webb, at the hoard
ing-house breakfast table the next morn
ing, as she poured the coffee and helped
the eggs and bacon ariund.
Isabel looked guiltily up.
“No,” said she. “What is it?”
“Found dead in her cheer,” said Mrs.
Webb. “A-smilin’ as happy as a child.
Some heart trouble, the doctor says.”
Isabel drew a long breath. So she
had died, and never known how cruelly
she had been deceived.
She drew Mary Crane and Miss Felton
aside.
“Girls," said she, “you must never
breathe a sy llable of this to anybody. Let
the secret die with this poor little wo
man.”
“But she died happy at last," said
Mary, with the tears running down her
cheeks. “Believing that her old sweat
heart was coming hack to her.”
“Yes, but that Jon’t justify our hcart-
lessness,” whispered Isabel.
And then an 1 there the three girls en
tered into a compact secrecy.
Miss Genevieve was buried in a shady
corner of the village cemetery, and on the
very day of the funeral Isabel Islay met
a tall, bearded stranger walking along
the street, scanning the houses with keen,
troubled eyes.
“Can you tell me," said he, “where
Miss Seaman lives—Miss Genevieve Sea
man?”
Isabel started.
“Miss Seaman was buried this morn
ing,” said she. “Oh, I am so sorryl
Was she a friend of yours?”
They had stopped opposite the little
gate where the wheel-tracks of the hearse
were yet visible. The sign “Milliner
and Dressmaker” yet creaked in the
wind, the red sun was sinking behind
the low caves, and Mies Genny’s cat rub
bed itself against the doorsill as if beg
ging to be let in.
“A friend!" repeated the stranger, as
he drew an old-fashioned miniature from
his pocket. “See, here is her picture!
I’ve waited all these years to make a
home for, and now—she is dead 1”
Isabel looked at the picture.
Good heavens! had Genevieve Seaman
evir 1 >oked as fair and dimpled and
smi in : as that?
And (he thought flashed across her
mind that it was well that this Captain
Gleason had not been undeceived.
“Y'es,” she repeated, softly, “she is
dead.”
“And you were her friend?”
“Y’es, I was her friend—at least as
much any one here,” falteringly owned
Isabel, feeling like an impostor.
“Then perhaps you can tell me some
thing of her. I waited to surprise her—
and now—”
His voice was choked; he turned hi# 1
face away. ,
Isabella told him, in a low, soft voice,
all that she could—all that was good and
cheering and hopeful—and Captain Glea
son went hack to the village hotel,walk
ing slowly, with his hands behind his
back, and his head drooping on his
breast.
For the time he truly mourned the
sweetheart of his youth, hut no one can
grieve forever.
Moss grows over the fallen tree; vio
lets bloom above the new-made grave.
Four Miss Genevieve was dead and buried,
ami w heu the next April blossomed over
the land, Captain Gleason was married
to Isabel Islay.
“If death was really so near her, I’m
glad I wrote the letter that made her
happy," thought Isabel. “And Edward
will always think of her as young and
beautiful! Bull never, never will plat
another practical joke!"—Saturday
Night.
Counties.
A revision of the areas of counties in
United Slates, made by the Census
Bureau, reveals some facts of interest
with regard to these minor divisions of
the tenitory of the Union. The “conn-
tv" is a territorial division of Hie United
States derived from Great Britain, where
the counties correspond to the provinces
or departments of other European coun
tries, and in a limited sense, to the
States of the American Union. An Eng
lishman addresses a letter to “Bromley,
Kent,” as we address a letter to “Wor
cester, Mas?.,” or “Rochester, N. Y.”
One State of the Union, which de
rived its usages fro n French and not
from English originals, has no coun
ties at all. In Louisiana these sub
divisions of the State are still called
parishes, both officially and in ordinary
speech, though they are now divided
into many real parishes of the church.
There are about 2800 counties in the
Union, with an average size of about
1000 square miles; but this average is
enormously exceeded in many instances,
and is also frequently fallen below.
Leaving out the great unsettled counties
of the West, the average county would
be about 500 square miles in extent.
In much of the Western part of the
country the size of the county is regu
lated mathematically. It consists of six
teen townships, each composed of thirty-
six square miles, aking 570 square mhos
in all. In other words, each township is
six miles square,and each county twenty-
four miles square.
In Iowa there are thirty-nine counties
which were formed in this way, each one
of which has exactly 576 square mile .
Such divisions were possible in the newer
West, where these minor political divi
sions were made in advance of settle
ment. In the other parts of the country
the territorial arrangements wero largely
accidental.
The largest county in the United
States is Yavapai County, Arizona, which
has an area of almost 30,000 square miles.
Nine States of the Union arc each smaller
than Ibis one county. It is larger than
the whole of West Virginia, and almost
as large as South Carolina.
The sixteen counties of Montana aver
age a greater size than the State of
Massachusetts.
Among the other great counties of the
Union are San Bernardino and San Diego,
in California, which are not only vast
regions, but contain a very great amount
of productive territory; Humboldt and
Lincoln Counties in Nevada, which are
exceedingly sparsely populated, and Lin
coln County in New Mexico, which may
some time have a large population.
Although the Now England States are
small, the average size of the counties
is greater than that in most of the
Middle, Western and Southern States.
Worcester County, in Massachusetts, is
an example of an Eastern county which
is at the same time large in area and
very populous. It has more than 1500
square miles, and almost 30,000 people.
It is larger in area than the adjoining
State of Rhode Island.
The smallet State in the Union has the
smallest county as well. Bristol County,
Rhode Island, is only twenty-five square
miles in extent. At one place it is nut
more than two miles in breadth.
Alexandria County, in Virginia, is not
much larger,having only thirty-two square
niilesT Kings County, New Y’ork, has
but thirty-seven. One of the new West
ern States possesses an exceedingly small
county as wed as some large ones; Todd
County, South Dakota, is only forty-
five square mile* in extent. — Youth't
Comjianion.
CONFLAGRATIONS.
THF GREATEST FIRES OF
•OEM' AND MODERN TIMES.
Destruction of Rig libraries In Alex
andria—How Constantinople anil
Ancient Rome SutTered—Amer
ica’s Noted Burnings.
A bulletin issued by the Census Office
<n the production of anthracite coal
slides that in 1889 there were produced
4b,6W,152 long tous, an increase of
filty-nme per cent, over 1880, when the
production was hut 25,575,875 long
.tons.
Among the great fires of history, un
doubtedly the burning of the Serapfcum
library at Alexandria, in the year 640, by
the Caliph Omar I., is most widely,
mourned, as the destruction of 500,000
volumes cut off much of the record of
human knowledge at that time. The
general impression of the importance and
significance of this fire is, no doubt,
augmented in great measure by the
alleged answer of this Saracen conqueror,
who applied to the protest against the
burning with: “If these books are
against the Koran, they are pernicious
and must he destroyed. If they agree
with the Koran, they arc redundant and
need not be preserved;” and it is not
generally remembered that Julius Caesar
burned a larger library of 700,000
volumes at Alexandria, known as the
Brucian library, B. C. 48, nearly 700 be
fore the burning of the Serapseum
library by Omar I.
At times of sack and pillage,Jerusalem
has been burned time and again; the
most noted instance being at the si. ge
by the Romans under Titus, during the
year 70, when a faction called the
Sicarii set the city on lire in many places,
and eventually 1.100,000 of the in
habitants perished by tire and the
sword.
Constantinople has, like all Oriental
cities, suffered severely from fires,a large
part of such losses being undoubtedly
due to the fatalism of the Mohammedans,
who bow to their kismet. Said a Sultan:
“If it he the will of Allah that my favor
ite city burn, it is the will of Allah.”
A great tire at Rome, 12 B. C., caused
the Emperor Augustus to take measures
for increasing the defense against fire,
which had been hitherto in the hands of
bodies of police, numbering twenty or
thirty, stationed in various parts of the
city, and re-enforced at times of fires by
companies of volunteers. He appointed
new officers with the rank of magistrates,
who were entitled to wear magisterial
robes. Each was attended by two lic-
tors, and provided with a fire organiza
tion of 600 slaves. It is probable that
this was not entirely satisfactory in its
operation, because six years later another
fire caused him to undertake further re
forms on a scale fully characteristic of
him who “found the city built of brick
and left it with palaces of marble.” He
increased the lire department to a scale
commensurate with the needs of the city.
Seven thousand freemen were organized
into seven battalion-:, and one battalion
was quartered in every alternate ward of
the city. These men made careful in
spections of the kitchens, of the heating
apparatus and of the water supply in the
houses, and every fire was the subject ol
judicial examination. The cost of th<
organization was maintained by a tax ol
twenty-live per cent, on the sale ol
slaves.
Two notable examples of contagion!
stopped by conflagrations are the hum
ing of Moscow by the besieging Tartars,
in July, 1576, when the plague wai
stopped, and secondly the fire in Lon
don, September 2, 1666, which alst
stopped the plague, ami it has been un
known there since. This London fin
is properly called there the great fire o
modern history, because the reform:
which were started in consequence of r
are living issues iu the municipal affain
of to-day. The fire was caused b;
au overheated baker's oven; and in thi
course of four days it swept over 43t
acres, burning 13,200 houses, 89
churches and St. Paul’s Cathedral, caus
ing a damage estimated to he £10,716,-
000, say $53,500,000. Under the di
rection of Pepys the fire was stopped bj
blowing up buildings, which was, at thi
time, the only method of reducing a fin
that hud grown beyond the capacity o:
the small tire engines. These were ot
large tubs, ami threw a stream of watei
directly on the tire, as hose was not in
vented until ten years later (1672) by
Van der Hcide.
The firs: devastating lire in America
was probably the one occurring at Bos
ton, March 20, 1760, when 400 dwel
lings and stores were burned, causing t
loss ot £100,000.
Philadelphia has been remarkably fre<
from conflagrations in comparison will
other large cities. It does not appear to
have been visited by a great fire unti
July 9, 1850, when a fire along the Dela
ware River front, at Vine street, extend
ing over eighteen acres, caused a loss of
life estimated as high as thirty-three, ir
addition to 12(1 wounded, and a pecuni
ary loss of $1,500,000.
New York was visited by a severe con
flagration iu the southern part of the
city on December 16, 1835, which ex
tended over an area of forty acres, de
stroyed 674 houses, and causing a loss
which has been estimated as high as
$30,000,000, on which there was only
$8,000,000 insurance—an amount which
ruined several insurance companies.
One of the first of the more recent con
flagrations was the burning of Portland,
Me., July 4, 1866. The file was caused
by a hoy throwing a firecracker into a
cooners shop for the avowed nurnnseof
scaring the workmen. In this respect
the act was au unparalleled success, the
damage being about $10,000,000.
The Chicago firg, October 9, 1871, was
one of the largest in all history, devastat
ing an area ot three and a half square
miles, and causing a loss of about $190,-
000,000, on which iusutancc was paid
to the amount of $100,000,000. Two
hundred and fifty lives were reported lost
in this fire.
Thirteen months later to a day,-Boston
was visited by a fire which extended over
an area of sixty-five acres, burning the
best mercantile buildings in the city, and
causing a dumage of $75,000,000, on
which there was an insurance to over
$65,000,000.—Scientific American.
AROMATIC WOODS.
TREES THAT ARE PRIZED FOR
THEIR FRAGRANT QUALITIES.
A Tree AVhosc Fragrance
Deatli to liiKects—OtlnroiiK Cy
press Trees—Arbor Vita-ami
Other Cedar Trees.
Is
FUN.
A man with a lot of money is generally
latisfied with his lot—Ttnu Siftings.
Even vinegar has to work in order to
he worth anything.—Pittsburg Dispatch.
The tugboat and the chiropodist are
slways looking after tow-.—Boston Bul
letin.
It requires a strong corporation to
throw a bridge across a river.—Detroit
Free Press.
A luxury is something we want like
the mischief and can’t get much of.—
Scrannai Netes
Dr. Brush—“Would you advise me to
have my picture hung?” Easel—“No;
solitary confinement ought to he suffi
cient.—Aletc York Sun.
Goats are said *o be extremely indiffer
ent to what and how they eat; but we
have seen one eat his breakfast off a time
table. —Jeirelers' Circular.
Lcbcrmaon—“1 owe $10,000. This
won’t do. I’ll have to pay up. Now,
lei me think. Who can I start to borrow
the money from.”—Fliegende Blaettcr.
The man who docs not agree with you
may he a very good fellow on general
principles, hut his opinions, you know,
arc beneath contempt.—Somenille Jour-
not.
Wickwire—“I tell you, Y'abby, my
hoy, there is nothing like a baby to
brighten up a man’s home.” Yabsicy—
“I have noticed that the gas seems to he
at nil height in your house at almost
any hour of the night.”—Chicago Acics.
Clevk in Furnishing Store—“Two
very stylish ties, sir, I cun assure you;
our. latest importations in new patterns.
They are both bound to take, hut fffr
myself I prefer the dark one.” Pur
chaser—“Give me the light one, please."
— Yale Record.
“Hold on, ’ sahl the musical boarder
to the burglar, who had awakened him;
“take anything but leave me my clari
onet. I have $10 concealed that you
can have if you will leave it.” “I’m
sorry, pard,” was the reply, “but yer
Aggers an’thigh enuff. De purse dat dc
boarders in dis house made up came to
$27.30.”—Washington Post.
Complainant—“Your honor,she struck
me in the face with her clinched hand.
That gash was cut by her ring.” The
Court—“Where did she get the ring?”
Complainant—“I gave it to her. It was
our engagement ring.” The Court—
“Ths prisoner is discharged. This is
clearly a case of contributory negli
gence."—Jeiceltrs' Weekly.
Friendship Stronger Than Duty.
William Higgins, a young soldier dis.
honorably discharged fiom the army in
Utah, applied for lodgings at a Pittsburg
station house, the other night, and told
the following story: “I sacrificed honor
to friendship,” he said, simply. “My
self and a friend named Franklin en
listed together from Troy just a year
previous to the date of my courtmartial.
We had served our apprenticeship to the
soldier's profession in the New Y'ork
militia, and were as fond of soldier life
as of each other. A year's services only
confirmed us in our liking for the army.
1 wished, above all things, to spend my
life a soldier, and so did ho. But he
was quarrelsome, and the fear of severe
discipline could not prevent his engag
ing in brawls with his fellows. For out-
of these offenses, which came to the
knowledge of the officers, he was sen
tenced three months to the guardhouse,
which meant he should work on the road
with an armed guard over him. 1 had
been his guard several times, and he
made no attempt to escape. It did not
occur to me that he would, as we were
200 miles from a railroad. I grew care
less, and one day when my back was
turned he took to his heels. 1 saw him
in time to have shot him, according to
orders, but 1 could not do it. He had
been my friend, and was endeared tome
by a thousand remembrances of little
kindnesses we had done each other. I
let him escape, but I would not have put
him to such a test had I been the prisoner
and he the guard.
“I was sentenced to three months in
the guardhouse and to leave the army in
disgrace. When my time came to go
my comrades made up a purse of $26 for
me. With this I purchased clothes, for
my uniforms were, of course, taken from
me. I have walked a good part of the
way from Utah since November 13th,
thpugh I of course beat my way on boats
and freight cars whenever I could. When
1 reach Troy I hope to find friends whu
will help me.”—Atlanta Constitution.
Parisian ladles are wearing dress skirts
that fit the figure as closely as a coat-
sleeve fits the arm.
The fragrant articles, so common in
our house, in the shape of fans and
boxes, arc made of the wood of the
sandal-wood trees, says E. B. Soirtbwick
in the New Y’ork Independent. To most
people this fragrance is a mystery, many
supposing the perfume is injected into
the wood by a process known only to the
Chinese. This is not, however, the
ca-e; for the wood is fragrant when taken
from the forest and retains it after it has
been manufactured into articles for the
home. (Juitc a number of trees of the
order Santalaceae, natives of the East
Indies and Tropical Islands ol the Pacific
Ocean, produce sandal-wood. Perhaps
the most abundant forest of this wood is
on the Sandal wood Islands, which lie in
the Indian Ocean.
Tiie coasts surrounding them are very
steep, and ships ran approach quite near.
These cliff- abound in nests of the escu
lent swallow, a source of great profit to
the natives who belong to the Malay race.
Although sandal-wood is most abundant
here, yet little is exported from these isl
ands from the fact that the natives re
fuse to cut the trees, because they be
lieve them to he the dwelliugs of their
ancestors’ souls. This wood is compact
and fine grained, and is susceptible of a
fine polish. It is suitable for makiug
work-boxes and small ornamental articles,
and is most remarkable for its fragrance.
This fragrance, however, is said to be
iatal to insects, so that cabinets made of
the wood are extremely valuable and
suitable for (he preservation of specimens
of natural history. While it is valuable
in this way, it i-, however, too expensive
for general use. The odor of this wood,
that is so pleasant, is due to au essential
oil. with which it is impregnated, this
oil being heavier than water.
Tile yellow or Sitka cypress is a tree
that furnishes one of the finest cabi
net wools of North America. Its habitat
is Sitka and soutli along the islands and
coast ranges of British Columbia, the
Cascade Mountains of Washington Tcni-
toiy* and Oregon. It is one of the most
valuable trees iu Alaska, where it fur
nishes most valuable timber. This tree,
also called the Nootka Souud cypress,
has small closely imbricated leaves of a
ricli dark green, and slightly glaucous
on the lower surface, or shady sides of
the branches. The branches are sub-
erect, and the branehleU are distichous-
ly arranged with elegantly recurved ex
tremities. It is nearly coiumnar in form,
and rises to a height of sixty or seventy
feet. The wood of this tree is light and
very close grained; it is satiny and sus-
ccptiblo of a very high polish, ami pos
sesses a very agreeable resinous odor.
This wood from its odoi and texture is
admirable for ornanieutal work, and is
used for interior finish, furniture, and
boat building.
Lawson's cypress is still a grander tree,
rising as it does to the height of a hun
dred feet or more. The leaves are of a
dark, glossy green color, more or less
tinged with a glaucous hue. They are
very closely imbricated and are minute.
The branches are short and spreading,
and the hvanchlets are crowded, pen
dulous feru-like and feathery. This
magnificent tree is a native of California
and Oregon, and is usually found in the
low. moist soil of rich woods, inter
spersed with firs and hemlocks. Tht
wood of this tree is light and very close
grained; it is easily worked and abounds
in odoriferous resin. Like the previous
one, the wood is susceptible of a beauti
ful polish, and very much resembles
sandal-wood, which place it might lead-
ily mi.
Another odorous wood is obtained
from the Monterey cypress. This is a
native of California, and is known as the
large fruited cypress. The leaves are
closely imbricated, ami of a very dark
green color; the branches are numerous,
close set and horizontal, with the extrem
ities ascending. It attains the height of
sixty feet or more, and is found riiicfly
on granite rocks immediately upon the
scacoast. The wood is quite heavy ami
hard, but rather brittle. It is very close
graiued and satiny, and when worked is
susceptible of a very high ami beautiful
polish. It is odorous and very beautiful
and valuable as u cabinet wood. There
are a number of other species which
have liue wood, hut enough have beet
enumerated to show the value of om
own native trees belonging to this
family.
Thuja occidentalis is another wooc
! that could he used for many purpose
! that sandal wood now supplies. This is
j our white cedar, or arbor vibe, so well
known to most people. The generit
name is liom tbyou, a sacrifice. The
resin of the Eastern variety is used in
stead of incense at sacrifices. Why it is
called arbor vitec is not. known, unless il
be on account ot tbc supposed medicinal
quality of the berries. In the East tbc
cypress i- called tli" tree of life, and il-
berries are considered a cure for all dis
eases. In our Western arboi vibe the
leaves are very small and in opposite
pairs, and of a dull yellowish green
color; the branches are distant, horizon
tal anu irregmaiiy scattered along tna
stem. Il attains a height of fifty feet or
more, and is usually found in cold, wet
swamps and along the rocky hanks of
streams. The wood is light, sofl, rather
coar-' i' grained than the preceding, and
lias a strong, resinous odor, which il
very pleasant. A distilled oil and a
tincture is made from the leaves of this
tree.
The gigantic red cedar of Alaska is e
magnificent tree attaining a height of one
hundred and fifty feet or more. It is in-
diginous to Alaska. British Columbia,
Washington Territory, Oregon and Cali
fornia, and is mually found in low rich
woods and swamps. The wood is
light, soft :"id rather coarse-grained. It
is, However, quite compact and easily
worked. It is used iu cabinet making
»nd interior finish, and this is the tree
from which the great canoes arc made by
She Indians. Jt goes by the name of
Canoe Cedar iu British Columbia, and
altogether is a magnificent and useful
tree.
1 he incense cedar i- another valuable
tree, and receives the name from the fra
grant wood. Of this genus, two arena-
lives of Chile, two of New Zealand, one
of New Caledonia ami one ol our own
.•'Oiintry. It is a handsome, distinct, erect
and compact-growing tree with a stout
irnnk, and distinguished by its glandless,
decurreul leaves, and columnar habit.
The wood is not as fragrant as many of
its relatives give, but is light, soft and
close grained, and is used for interior fin-
isli and cabinet work.
All the species of juniper have fra
grant wood, and are found iu temperate
and cold regions. They inhabit Europe,
Asia, Africa and America, in favorable
situations becoming large trees, while in
higher and more exposed situations ap.
pearing as mere shrubs.
Otir well-known red cedar Jias wood
that is very fray rail!, and this wood is
i xten-ively used in the arts and trades.
The tree with us attains a height of per
haps fifty feet, but in the valley of the,
Ited River in Texas and south of us it is
much larger. It is probably the most
widely distributed of North American
Couiferar, and exceedinly valuable. The
wood is light, soft and compact, ami of
a dull red color: it is used extensively
for interior finish, cabinet-making and
ornamental work, ami is the wood most
extensively used in the manufacture of
lead pencils. The wood is also used for
lining cabinets, as the odor of the wood
is said to repel insets.
Another aromatic wood is furnished by
the common juniper of Europe. This
wood is of a yellowish color and finely
veined, it does not attain to a very
great height unle-s iu favorable circum
stances, and even then rarely exceeds
thirty-five feet.
The Oldest White Man.
The oldest white man, probably, in
the United States whose age can be
clearly authenticated, in Eli Gray, who
resides at Hoxhury, Delaware County,
N. Y. The records in the Town Clerk’i
office at Weston, Fairfield County,Conn.,
attest the fact that Sir. Gray was born
in that town on December 16, 1785, and
while yet a youth removed to New York
State. Jay Gould’s father was the first
male child born in the town of Roxbury.
Mr. Gray says he remembers the date of
the occurrence, October 3, 1792, and he
was intimate with the family until past
middle age. Mr. Gray’s mother, as in
also shown by the town records of Wes-
| ton, lived to he 120 years old. A half
j century of Gray’s life was spent on the
j Gould homestead, near Roxbury. Gray
was small in stature during his prime,
i hut was wiry and “nervy.” He is the
i father of two children. Hit wife died a
[ lew years ago iu the Delaware County
; Poor House. At the age of forty Mr.
j Gray adopted the course of “squatting”
, upon unoccupied land, and he took an
! active part in the anti-rent troubles of
1842. Going into the woods he would
I select a pleasant location, erect a log
cabin and live there as long as he could
i do so without paying rent. The ruins ol
| several of these cabins can now he seen.
I Mr. Gray lives in a little hutnear Rox-
bury and, though failiug mentally and
physically, can still give many reminis
cences of olden times. The town of Rox
bury appropriates $361 yearly for hi*
care and maintenance. Jay Gould sent
Gray a Christmas present of $50 last year
and takes considerable interest in the old
man's welfare.—St. I/>uis Republic.
, “The Lead That is in Lead Pencils.”
The “lead lhat is in lead pencils” is
not lead at all, hut graphite, a mineral
commonly called black lead or plumbigo,
which titles arc incut reel, as it contains
no lead. Us composition is similar to
anthracite coal, containing usually from
ninety to ninety-five per cent, of carbon.
It is really a form of coal which is
changed into it by heat both in natuis
and artificially. It is found in many
places in America, and it exists iu enor
mous quantities in Northeastern Sibs
ria. The graphite mine in Burrow dale,
England, was long celebrated for yielding
graphite of a superior quality for making
black lead pencils. The mine has been
known since the time of Queen Elizabeth,
and probably furnished the firet lead
pencils ever made, ns iheir invention can
not be traced back ns far as the discovery
of the mine. Besides furnishing the
material for lead pencils graphite is used
for a number of purposes in tho mechanic
arts.—St. Louis Republic,