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WEEKLY EDITION. WIXNSBORO. S. c7 WEDNESDAY. AUGUST 30, 1882. ESTABLISHED IN 1844. jlM
The Ships That Sail Aivay.
I think of tbe ships that tail away?
The white-winged ships that sail away,
Freighted with fears and waited tears,
* And joys we gathered for long, long yea s,
s y" For the possible rainy day.
J .' I sleep and dream of the v.!. c-winged ships,
v - That glide from the shores vf iife away:
That swiftly glide with the ebbing tide,
Bearing my joys to the farther side,
p&rx Into the twilight gray.
' Oh, ships that vanish into the past :
V c? Are none to return to the port at ia*t i
r Shall I vainly -n^it at "the yt-avard gate,
|t Beaten anil bruised, and scarred by fato,
Chilled by the -winter blast ?
The ships that carry my gr:e? alas!
Have hulls of iron and shrouds of brass!
The storm's impact leaves them intact,
Though hurled on the jagged rocks of Fact,
Where fearful breakers mas3!
JONES & CO.
A SAX FRANCISCO IDYL,
I giiess pa and ma were pretty rich
one time, for wliea they came to Cali
lorma it was on tnerr wedding-tonr, and
cost lots?came by the way of New
York and Washington and Panama city
in a steambcat, and ma brought a maid
to wait on her and pa had a servant
named Jim; and when we got to California?I
say we: I'm only fourteen
. now ; but I was not born then, though
\ that don't matter, I guess?pa had lots
of money. I was born at the Lick
house, and you ought to see my baby
^ . clothes. Jones & Co. haven't the kind
of goods them was, because Maud ha3
draggled them all to pieces. Maud is
. the baby. Six years old, Maud is, and
it won't be long before she will be a
olerk for Jones & Co. First babies
always have the nicest things. Ma says
first babies are like second wives.
Well, I am of the opinion that after
pa went into his house on Ness
a venae, he went into stock, whatever
that means. Going into stock mnst be
a carious business, and sometimes pa
came home looking splendid, and
wanted to buy everything, and langhed
at ma for being so mean and not get- !
ting better clothes, and then he wanted
to drive in the park and go to the
theatre. One day he came home with a
brand new carriage and a sp n of longtail
horses, and a coachman and footman.
Then sometimes pa came home
and looked very bine, ana talked abont
stocks, and I began to watch pa and
noticed that sometimes when he
laughed the londest he looked as if he
wanted to crv, and then he sold the
> _ horses and then the house, and the furr
niture was sent to the auction and ma
felt very bad, and pa wasn't like himself
any more and never toldme stories
nor kissed me; and once,, when Maud
was asleep in hi8 arms he kissed her
and cried, and when I told ma she
guessed pa did not feel very well, and
then she cried. After this wa went to a
boarding-house?a nasty, musty board?
ing-house. Everything was well
enough, only a boarding-house ain't
like home. ?
Then the baby cf ie, and it died, and
ma almost died; ana I heard pa say to
the man that kept the boarding-house
that he was pretty tight up, but it was
all coming out light; and the next day,
pa didn't have any watch nor any
sleeve buttons. I didn't seem to notice
it, because I saw thai mavbe he had
? ?^~erorcrihem aucn nesra~par
feftftfrr and ma talk a^ay in the night, and
y sometimes ma cried, ana pa wcnld look
in the morning just a3 if he hadn't slept
K * a wink, and I don't believe he had.
Wr 1 Once it was dreadful. Pa came home
tipsy; and I never saw ma feel so bad,
never; and then they talked it over, and
finally ma went heme to grandpa's in
New York, with Maud, and I stayed
?- with pa to go to school. Then pa kept
srettine worse, and worse, and went to
Eve in rooms and eat at restaurants;
and pa stayed out late at nights, and I
guess he drank more than was good for
him, and I thought something had ^ot
to be done. So I said to pa ore day :
"Pa, let's go into business ana open
L And he laughed and said, "What kind
I? of a store."
And I said, "Oh, a candy store, or a
stationery store, or a thread and needle
store, just such as women keep and little
girls help in."
And r>a laughed and said he would
think of it, and when he came home
that night I asked him if he had thought
J abont it, and he said he had not, and I
said he had better, and he said he
wonld; and that morning he didn't go
* ont, bat stayed at home and wrote mo
a long letter. So next day I went into
a store on Polk street, kept by a nice
m old lady who had a bad hnsband, where
W: they sold everything, and she said in
hr French they called it lingerie. I did
not know what she meant, becanse it
was French, and I asked her if she did
not want to sell her store, and she
"Do yon want to buy a store, little
girl?" And I said: "-My pa does."
And she smiled and said she gaessed
* the sheriff would have a store to sell in
a few da:_3. I said I wonld tell pa,
because i?B knew Mr. Nuuan, the sheriff.
It waggrae of Mr. Nnnan's men that
sold pa c ^pnse and furniture for him.
And thb ^xt day I told pjr about the
store and what a nice one it was, and
he had been a dry-goods man once,
and had a large store, and sold silk
dress goods, arid velvets and furs, and
* laces worth more than ?1,000 apiece.
I don't exactly know what pa did,
but I think something "turned up" a
X J u rA?T V "UZ
it?w uaiwiw&ai, luri iiearu uuui bbj
he had made a "raise;" and he showed
me more than ?1,000 in gold and notes,
and for a day or two he carried tiiem
? in a side pocket, and mostly kept his
hand over them, for fear they would
jump one and fiy away; and pa bonght
r me some shoes aiid a hat, and stuff for
aprons, and I made them myself, and 1
never saw pa look so happy since ma
x . 1 Va
went awav, suiu uiie u?* xic t>axu tu
"Yevie, I have bought the store on
> Polk street, and you are to be my sales- J
woman asd partner."
And cute enough, in a few days we
went into the s ore, and over the door
was a great big s ?n of "Jones & Co."
and pa said I was the "Company," And
when I Ijaid, "And so, pa, you are
'Jones'?" he blushed, and I gness he
k. didn't like his old friends to know that
he was selling needles and thread and
tape and things. We had two snug
little rooms in the ><*ck of the store to
sleep in, and I made p?Js bed and swept
out the rooms and tidied things. At
first pa shut up the store when he had i
to go dcwc town on business, but after
a little while I tended it, and when
W there were two customers in the store I
y waited on one, and it wasn't long before
' I could make caan8e^ things almost
as good as iSa; and by and
by, when he wei^SSvra town, I tended
store, and we had splendid times. "We
went out to a nice place across the
street for our meals; I tended store
when pa went, and pa tended store
when I wen^
One day pa C3me in and looked dreadfully
troubled, and then I said: "Pa,.
L ain't I a partner, am ~ don't partners
have a right to know everything, and
ain't you hiding something about Jones
And then I found out that pa had
bou^nt, too many things for the store,
and that a note for $1,000 had to be
p-.iid. and that's what made pa feel bad.
And then I thought and wondered how
p: *S. I could, get $1,000, and I kept on thinking
over everybody that I guessed had
81,000, and every one that I pressed had j
| it, I guessed would not lend it to pa. ]
] And then I thought about the rich Mr.
i Flood, and said: "I will go do\rn to his
j bank and get it, for he's got more that
; a thousand millions, and down to tht i
! bank of Nevada the cellar is full of gold. j
and of course he don't use it all the
I time, and before Mr Flood wants it I'll
! take it back and p*y the interest." And
! then I jumped up and hurrahed for
| Jones & Co., took my best bonnet and
I J. ~1 ?? w,r
put. Vil 111 J ?iUVC3, LUUl UU 1M.' a ivjo |
apron and combed my hair, and got |
into a car, went to the Nevada bank, j
told the cleik I wanted to borrow Sl.OOJ. I
and he laughed and said he guessed I j
had better see Mr. McLane. I asked
who Mr. McLane was, and the clerk
said Mr. McLane was the president, and
was in the back room, and I went into
the back room, and Mr. McLane said:
"Well, little girl, what can I do for
And I said: "I want to borrow one
Mr. McLane opened his' eyes and
turned his chair aronnd and looked at
me, and said: "A thousand dollars,"
with as much surprise as though $i,000
was all the money he had in the bank.
Then I began to get scared and cried;
and then I told Mr. McLane all about
pa and "Jones & Co" and what we
wanted to do with the money, and that
I would pay it back to him; and he
looked kinder puzzled, and asked m9
what pa's name was, and I told him and
where the store was, and all about ma |
and Maud, and now the baby died. IJ
guess that was not very much like busi !
?j r j?M/.T.aT.a !
UCOO, U1U JL UUJi it AJJA/n Wliau iua. iuvju?uw ,
wanted to know all that for. Then he
looked at me again, and I guess he
wasn't going to let me have tha money,
when a gentleman at the otaer desk
came np to where I was sitting on a
chair, and Mi. McLane said:
"Well, Flood, what do you think of
this young merchant ?'
And then I knew it was the rich Mr.
Flood, and I looked into his eyes, and
" Let her have the money; I will endorse
Then I jumped up and kissed him,
and he kissed me; and Mr. McLane
made a note for ninety days, and I
signed "Jones & Co.," and Mr. Flood
wrote his name on the back of it. I
took the money away in a canvas bag
[ that Mr. McLane said I must bring
j back, and I took the money to pa ; and
[ J.-J.U -U ? : A T
U1UU L. UG 1UU?>> OUILiIOCU V* 11C11 X ^vuicu
; out the great big twenty-dollar gold
! pieces on the counter. Then I told
him what had happened at the bank,
and when I asked him if he didn't j
think I was a pretty good business j
woman after all, I guess he felt real
After this I never saw anything like
it?such lots of carriages and such nice
ladies kept coming' every day, and
most all of them traded with me,
and pa was just as happy as he could
be. Jones & Co. was making lots of
money. When I took Mr. Flood's
money back, I just marched right
through the bank, past the big connA
ni"_T V. ?T
UOX O, I11LU 1XLI. 1Z1.UJ^CU17 D i. UULU, OUU i. I
took very good care to let the clerk j
that laugned at me before see the bag. |
Mr. Flood was in there, and Mr. McLane
and I opened the bag. Mr. Flood
came up and laughed, and Mr McLane
laughed, and I heard Mr. Flood tell
Mr. McLane they wonld have the lunch
to-day. A nd then Mr. Flood told me
if I wanted to borrow money again, not
to go to any other but come tc
TiltTj th<>c2\in2.f ana JXV) o~ j
lane brought my note canceled by a
great bine " Paid " stamped across the
face, right over where I wrote " Jones
& Co." Then I told Mr. Flood that ;
when we felt able to send for ma I
should come over and borrow some
more money, because I wanted to bny a ,
house for ma and Maud, so that thay
wouldn't have to go into any more
nasty boarding-nou3es, and Mr. Flood
? J T +.1 T
52LLU. X BiiUUlU JULBbYU OJJ. LUC J. j
When we sent for ma and Maud,
grandpa gave them the money to come
and so we didn't have to borrow any
more ; and we took a nice cottage, not
very near the store, for pa didn't want
ma'to know about Jones & Co., though
I was just crazy to tell her. For several
days we fooled her. She thought pa ,
had a store down town, and I was going ,
to school. I told lots of fibs about
being detained at school, going down
town, and all sorts of stories to account ,
for being home late. One day who j
should I see coming into the store
but ma. (
"Have you any pearl shirt buttons, ;
little girl?'' said ma. 1
"Yes, ma'am," said I, looking her j
ngnc square m lho <
"Goodness, gracious !" said ma. "Is i
that you, Yevie T
I said, "Beg pardon, ma'am, what ;
nid you want?" And then ma looked \
at me again.
I had a store apron on and a small j
cap like a French girl; and because I j
wasn't very high pa bought me a pair of ]
wooden brogans, with felt buttons, into (
which I slipped my feet, and they made i
me four or five inches taller; and ma s
stared at me, and then laughed and
"Oh, I beg your pardon, little girl; ]
you look so much like my daughter \
Genevieve that I thought you were .
Then I heard pa snicker down behind ^
the counter. He had seen ma come in ,
and he hid. Just as soon as ma went ,
out pa jumped np and langhed and ]
said : "Snatch off your apron and cap,
Yieve, and ran round the block and get
home before your mother."
I did so, and when ma got home she
was the most surprised per?**??s-ou ever
saw. We knew this thing wowin't last,
and so that night we told ma all about \
the house of "Jones & Co.," and ma '
kissed pa and said he was a noble fel- ,
low, and "just as good as gold," and '
that sh$ "never was so proud of him in !
all her life," and fell to kissing him and
crying and taking on. I never saw ma !
act so foolish in all her life, and pa said :
she was "making love to him over ,
Well, now thfl stnrv is aVinnfc nver.
Ma came down to the store to help. At
tirst she looked kinder sheepish, espe- .
cially when some lady came in. she had
known at the Lick house, bnt she soon |
got over all tJiat and began to make
bonnets and we had a millinery store, !
and then she insisted upon saving the
expense of a separate house, and we
moved into a larger store next door with j
nice rooms fixed to live in and a nice 1
show window for bonnets; and little
Mandie is beginning to be handy '
about, and all of us work, and we are
just as happy as the days are long and
have lots of money.
I have never seen Mr. Ficod but
once since, when I went down to the
bank unbeknown to pa, and told Mr.
"PIaw/I ? \f aT ./> a rtr>t* 4^ rv\ a
jl iwu auu iui* hjl^ju^uc uuao an j ulllc
they wanted to borrow SI,000 "Jones
& Co." would lend it to them; and they
laughed and said, "Couldn't tell, stocks
might go down." And then Mr. Flood
said, "if all the people he had given
and loaned money to would pay it back
as I had, he didn't think he would get
busted in a long time."
And th^n I saw the clerk that laughed
at me and I smiled at him and bowed;
and since then he has. been buying ail .
his gloves at the store. I told him I
thought he used a great many pairs of
gloves, and he said they wore out very
fast counting money. He is dreadful
particular about his gloves, and if there
is nobody in the store but me, he is
sometimes half an hour picking out just
the kind he wants..
Pa Has bought a splendid gold watch I
?a real stem-winder; and we? I
Jones & Co."?have bought a nicb
.rge lot on Governor Stanford's new
; ble railroad and paid for it; and if the
\ies are good this summer, as pa thinks
'O.j will be, we shall have a house of
:?jv own again.
By the Sea.
" Now, dear,'' said Mr. Breezy, leading
his wife carefully over the sand*?,
"you must wet vour head first and
" uo yon suppose i nave never Deen
in bathing before ?" asked Mrs. Breezy,
giving an extra tng at the skiit cf her
bathing suit, and looking over her
shoulder to see if any vnlgar men wera
taking in her more or less graceful coatnme.
" Mr. Breezy, yon talk as
though I had lived all my life in the
backwoods of Ohio and had never get
a sniff of salt water. I am just as familiar
with snrf bathing as you are,
Mr. Breezy, and I dare say a great deal
more so. Yon know I was brought up
on the Sound and I know?"
" But, my dear, the snrf here at
Long Branch is very heavy, and yoi
must take a good hold of the rope as
" Now, Mr. Breezy, I'm not a baby,1'
said Mrs. Breezy, jerking her am
away from the grasp of her hnsband, and
making a vain attempt to walk gracefully
over the rough beach. " I'd like
to see the wave big enough to knock
me over, and you needn't isuppose that
I'm going to cling to that old rope and
miss all the fun. The rope is all very
well for old people and children. If
you are afraid, Mr. Breezy, you had
better co back to vour bath-house and
put on your clothes."
"But you know, my dear, you can'!;
sw.'m, and there is a very strong undertow
here, they say," said Ml Breezy,
once more grasping his wifevarm.
" Do let go of me, and for pity's sake
stop acting like a fool," said Mrs.
Breezy, making a dash forward and
once more relecsing her arm. "All
the people will imagine we are on ou:
wedding tour if you keep on in thi?
way. You jest shift for yourself, and
let me alone for once in your life. I
know you will have all you can do to
keep from drowning without bothering
mo. You can't swim anv more than 3!
can, and I'd advise yon to cling to the
rope on your own account, and stick to
it. For my part I'd rather be drowned
than appear a coward."
"Bus simple prudence, my dear,*'
said Mr. Breezy, stumbling over a piecei
of drift wood in the vain attempt to
once mora reach his wife.
"If I was a man I'd swear," said
Mrs. Breezy, looking back scornfully at
her better half. " Of all the old grandmothers
you go ahead. Do you thini
I c -me down here to be constantly told
what I am to do ? Am I of age, Mr.
Breezy, or not ? Tell me that,"
"But you will stay inside the ropes,
won t yon, dear.' urged .ur. .Breezy,
stumbling along after his wife, and
cnrsing the luck that ever bronght him *
to the sea shore.
"I don't know whether I will or
not,1' said Mrs. Breezy, striding boldly
toward the brfakers, and folding hei
arms in a determined manner. " It's
just as safe ontside as in, and I can
uke care of myself anyway, no matter
v?here I am. Did yon ever see me in a
position where I couldn't, Mr. Breezy?"
"Not to my knowledge," said Mr.
Breezy, smiling in spite of the situation.
"Bat"you are not used to surf bath
' Mr. Breezy, do let up?I eu jl do
sw>pciur:: t-verrasrciDjf preacamgv - said
Sirs Breezy, reaching the edge of tho
Enooming tide and halting suddenly.
"Mr. Breezy, come here and take my
"But I thought you-could?"
"Never mind what you thought,"
said Mrs. Breezy, jumping back as a
little wave lapped about her ankle.
' Take my hand, do you hear!" and
another wave swept in creeping nearly
to her knees. "Will you take my
hand, or do you propose to stand there
like a brute and see your wife
drowned ?" screamed Sirs. Breezy,
throwing her arms about her husband's
neck as soon as he came within reach,
and hanging to him like a poor relation.
" Now take me over to that rope,
and dorrt let go of me, quick I"
screamed Mrs. Bteezy, as a -big wave
swept up to her waist."
" But you said, dear, that?"
" Do you want to get rid of me ?"
screamed Mrs. Bteezy, clinging to her
husband's: hand like a vise " Do yon
want me tD?dr?drown ? Oh, dear, here
comes another," and ahe fairly climbed
cp on her husband's form in a vain attempt
to escape a tremendous breaker,
but it was too late and they both rolled
Dver on the sand its the waters dashed !
"Ugh, this is dreadful," gasped Mrs.
Breezy, finally regaining her feet and
ragging at her clinging bathing suit.
'Ob, dear, I must look like?like?a
fright, and my hair is all coming down,
md?and?I think I will go out. Mr.
Breezy, what are you laughing at; you
great heartless brute." Bat another'
srave caught her on flank movement,
ind she once more hit the sand.
" Ob, dear?oh, Mr. Breezy, catch
me. Where are you ?" screamed Mrs.
Breezy, distributing herself promiscuously
over the beach as she straggled to
get out of the reach of the surf.
" Here, dear," called Mr. Breezy, dipping
a handful of sand out of his port
?ar, and doubtfully crawling toward his
wife, ana the twin wrecks made a bee
line for their bathing honses.?Brooklyn
Hotf a Mouse Carried his Burden.
"There are two men," said Bridges,
' beside myself who are living who can
attest the trnth of my monse story. We
three were comrades in the Federal
irmy during the war. One day, in the
State of Kansas, whil9 on ascont one of
our men was killed in a drunken row.
Having received permission late in the
evening we took the corpse to a private
bouse intending to bury it the next day.
We three were sitting no with the body
in a room from which a stairway ascended
to the tipper floor. Daring the
wee hours we heard a strange noife as
if something was moving soltly on the
ripper steps of the stairway, and which
seemed to be gradually descending. As
the light was dim in the room, a minute
or more elapsed before we conld discern
what was the cause of the noise, when
we discovered three mice evidently engaged
in helping each other to lift or roll
something down the stairway. As they
progressed a step at a time we discovered
that it was a large hen's egg,
which one of the mice held in a close
embiaoe, allowing the other two to roll
him like a ball from one step to the
other, always managing to fall on his
back, thereby t>rotectinzthe eesr. Aftei
reaching the floor in the room in -which
we were sitting, all three began to roll
the e?g toward an indenture in the
fio^r, with which they seemed to have
been iamii:ar. T; e egg wa3 rolled inic-1
this place evidently to steady it, whil: !
the three mice proceeded to eat it, cut- !
tiDg throcgh he sLell and soon emp\v- j
ing it. Now, if mocse seme i?n't eqtsal j
to horse sense, I den't know." ? [Oar j
Twenty-three convicts of the State j
prison at Frankfort, Ky., professed j
conversion, and ^eie taken to the river !
for baptism. The warden, tboneh pro- i
testing that he did not doubt the sincerity
of their repentance, escoited
them with a strong guard armed with
Virginia has 172 tobacco factories,
which consume over iS.OUO.OOj potmcJs
of the weed each year. S
? The >'ew Northwest,
Far away in the Northwest, as far
I beyond St. Panl as St. Pan! is beyond
j Chicago, stands "Winnipeg, the capital
..f Manitoba and the gateway of a new
realm about to jump from its present
J state of trackless prairies, as yet almost
! devoid of settlement, to the condition
| of our most prosperous Western States.
! Here, bonnded on the south by Dakota
and Montana, west by th- Eocky monn
! tains, north and east by the great Feace
| river and the chain of lakes and rivers
tbat stretch from Lake Athabasca to
Winnipeg, lies a vast extent of country,
estimated to contain 300,000,000 acres,
or enongh to make eight such States as
lows or Illinois. Not all of it is fertile,
it is true; yet it may be safely said tbat
two-thirds of it are available for settlej
menfc and cultivation.
j In fact, the extent of available land
; in these new countries is apt to be
under-estimated, for if the traveler does
i not see prairies waist-deep in the
j richest grass he is apt. to set them
i down as barren lands, and if he crosses
| a marsh he at once stamps it as land
too wet for cultivation. Those, however,
who remember the early days of
Illinois and Iowa have seen lands then
passed by as worthless swamps now
held at high prices as the best of
meadow-land. This is a land of rolling
prairies and table-lands, watered by
: navigable rivers, and not devoid of
The climate is hardly such as one
would select for a lazy man's paradise,
i for the winters are long and cold, and
! summers short and fiercely hot, though
I +Vi cVinrf n acq 10 it* cnma irifloonrfl
VMVXJ. WUVA VUUWU AU UVUiU
| compensated for by tie great length of
I the midsummer days. Nevertheless, it
! is a land where wheat and many other
i grains and root crops attain their fullest
j perfection, and is well fitted to be the
| home of a vigorous and healthy race.
I Manitoba, of which we hear so much
! now, is but the merest fraction of the
territory, and, lying in the southeast
corner, is as yet the only part accessible
! Over this vast region, and, indeed
all that lies between it and the Arctic
ocean, for two hundred years the Hud
sons jtsay company exercised territorial
rights. Till within a, few years it was
practically unknown except as a preI
serve of fnr-b earing animals, and prior
, to 1870 it was hard to find any informa!
tion as to its material resources or its
| value. The company discouraged every
; attempt that threatened to interfere
j with the fur-bearing animals or the
'Indians who trapped them. Still, it
became known that some of this vast
region was not utterly worthless for
other purposes. The soil looked deep
and rich in many places, a. 1 In the
western part the buffalo found a winter
subsistence, for the snows were seldom
deep, and in the pure dry air and hot
i autumnal sun the grasses, instead of
withering, dried into natural hay. The
, early explorers, too, hud brought back
reports of noble rivers, of fertile
! prairies, of great beds of coal, of belts
of fine timber. But what cared the
company for these? The rivers, it is
true, were valuable as being the homes
of the otter, the mink and other furbearing
animals, and furnished fish for
their employes, and highways for their
canoes. For the rest they had no use.
i At last, in 1870, seeing that they could
no longer exclude the world from these !
fertile regions, the Hudson's Bay Com- 1
pany sold their territorial rights to 1
! Canada, which now began to nee its
; way to a railroad across the ooiitinent
! to linfe the polonies from Nova-Sco-: :
? tia "co British Colcmbia.? [aarpers
| Monthly. '
stonewaii jacKsos's rreuicuun.
General Revere, who served in the
Federal Army of the Potomac, tells in
i his book, "Keel and Saddle," n very ,
! singular story of the famous Confed- <
| erate commander, Stonewall Jaokson.
j General Revere narrates that while on ;
i a steamer ascending the Mississippi, in <
| 1852, there was among the passengers a (
! lieutenant, Thomas J. Jackson, of the 1
i United States Army, with whom he be- ]
' came acquainted. They grew friendly, <
and at night spent several hours in talk- ,
ing upon different subjects as they sat ;
npon the deck. It was bright starlight, j
and the conversation turned upon as- ]
trology. General Revere knew nothing .
of the subject beyond what may be ;
gleaned in general reading, but Jack- 1
son, in the course oi the discussion, ,
-3 ? i-T J ? - r XT?L "U~
maue iuo ttuu_uss;.uii lim* j uouau jihootigated
the study and had learned fti \
have some faith in it. As a sort of test (
he requested the time of General Re- <
vere's birth. This the General gave ]
and they separated. Some months 1
later he received a leoter containing a ^
scheme of his nativity, with, among ,
J other statements, the prediction that
he and Jackson would be exposed to a ,
common danger "during the first days (
of May, 1863." j
General Revere thought no more of (
the matter; time rolled on, and his ^
friend, the lieutenant, was nearly for- <
gotten. When the war broke out Re- (
vere entered active service, and in 1863 3
TTjoa KMoorf nr!fVi fVio "Po/laral nrmv at
the battle of Ohancellorsville. It was
night and he had gone forward to reconnoitre.
The rival lines were so
close together that an expedition of this
character was most dangerous, and it
was not long before the General became
aware that he had lost his waj. He
proceeded, however, with great caution
and had gone some distance, when suddenly
not far away a heavy volley was
fired. He halted and listened, and after
a while he saw a group coming
through the woods. Their uniforms
revealed that they were Confederate officers,
and in their midst was some one
badly wounded whom they were assisting,
and by their solicitude and bearing
o: respect it was evident that he was a
person of high rank. As they approached
they caught sight of Revere,
and supposing him to be also a Oonfed- .
erate, from his presence in the lines,
VkniNA onfnAwfflf'iTT/ilTT fA
UiiC U. Lliom uauo jjuai auuuviiiauuwxj w ,
carry a certain message to another part
of the field their army occupied. j
The General gravely saluted and rode4',
off, and made his way,, without further 1
mishap, back among his own command. (
Shortly af cerward he learned that Stone
wall Jackson had bsen shot, and from j
the circumstances he fenew it was he he .
had seen supported by the little group
among the trees. Thon it was that the J
prediction of eleven yenrs before flashed j
through General Revere's mind, that he i
and the astrological lieutenant should
in May, 18GJ5, oe exposed to a common
danger. Jac kson was the former lieu-1
tenant, and had, in accordance with the '
prophecy, fallen a victim to the peril
from which Revere barelv escaped. The ;
incident naturally made a profound impression
on the mind of the latter, and
he tells the Htory at considerable length
1 lie Smallest Church,
Westdale, a little parish in England,
hss the smallest church in that country
?and it is a very diminutive affair. It
has but eight pews, and yet is capable
of accommodating double the population
of the district. The rector opens
the church himself, and rings the bell.
Then he dons his ecclesiastical robes in
the presence of his congregation.
There is no musical instrument in the
church, and the minister leads the
singing. His sermons are very short, a
recent one occupying only seven and
a half minutes in its delivery. Two
services are held every Sunday, and the
rector, clerk, preceptor, sexton, bellringer
and churchwarden, all combined
in one, receives for the performance of
his varied duties the modest little salary
of about 3300.
living in Dng-Outs.
A correspondent, traveling in Nebraska,
gives an interesing account oi
modern frontier life. Among manj
other things, he says :
"(Dor destination on this occasion was
the famous settlement of Prairie Dog
Town, comprising about forty acres on
the banks of the Big Blue, in Saline
county. Its location could be told a
long distance off, the dogs having eaten
the substance of the grass roots and
left their tops dry and yellow, waving in
Moses said the prairie dogs were
peaceable citizens if you flon't; squat on
their claim. If a farmer plows up the
leasi: comer of their town and sows a
crop- on it, don't you think they have
spunk enough to resent it ? Of course,
they have! They go and take every
spina of young grain as soon as ever it
comes up ; but, mind you, they won't
touch nothing over their own boundary.
A3 to habitals, it is difficult to say
which is the most curious of the subterranean
dwellings?that inhabited by
dogfi or by people. The latter is a
small recess invfche- earth?a sort of
look-out box, dovetailed into a eloping
bank, the roof on-' a level with the rear
earth-surface, thejbront of boards with a
narrow door and. perhaps a window.
The floor is usually bare earth, but
1;ho mud walls are sometimes whitewashed
; the stovepipe projecting
through the top is often the only thing
to inark the whereabouts of a house
in coming over the bluffs from the rear.
It i? no uncommon sight to see a cabroof.
If additional rooms are required
separate dug-outs are excavated; m. one
instance I saw se^en clustered together,
comprising kitchen, living room, bed
room, root house, wagon ehed, stable
and pig sty. But few American settlers
live in dug-outs - now, although the
Russians are often found occur;vine
them. Russian women are skilled in
building straw hopses, framed of timber,
filled in with mortarand fine-cut straw
irised with clay, the Btra^Jleft in its
natural color with trimmings of brown
cr green around} doors 4nd windows.
Sod houses are piled up of slices of
turf with grass growing green on the.
cuter walls and- over the roof. They
are the coolest houses imaginable in
summer, but during heavy rains the
walla are apt to become soaked and
tumble in, sending stove, dishes and
tedding down in a wreck together.
Moses said that one night in a driving
rain he had camped all night on the
roof of his own dug-out.
Oq another occasion when surveying
he had planted his Jacob-staff where he
wanted it, when all of a sudden a voice
called ont from nnder the gronnd,
"Ho! you, up above! Hold on a bit."
He had planted his staff directly
through old Jans Oleson's dng-ont roof.
Mase's two sons, living on Turkey
creek, wishing to homestead two claims
side by side, built a double sod house
on the line. The homestead act requires
that they shall live, that is eat
and sleep, upon their land for live years,
so with a bed on each side and a table
in the center both of them eat and sleep
nnder the same roof, and yet each eats
and sleeps on a separate claim.
A correspondent writes the following
account of a strange funeral he attended
among the .Berkshire Hills, Massachusetts:
B. and I drove to the ohurch and
went down into thoJi^^-^jnA .behind
it. Here a^while wMtiij^
(xmarTvtrT?Tr-5i0Wly ascending the hill a
solemn procession. Two huge oxen
came first, drawing a wooden sled, on
which was a rude coffin covered with a
black cloth. On either side of the sled
walked two rough countrymen with long
whips; immediately after, with tearstained
faces, walked the near relatives
oi the dead man. We joined in the
procession, and soon reached a beautifully
wooded knoll, just outside of the
smoll />1 xrav/3 RATA TUQa *hna nanlv
3iuaii) jaia? n4? mv UUHAJ
iug grave, and as the patient beasts
toiled to the side of the great yawning
bole, we formed a circle around it. The
coffin was lifted from the sled and in
silence lowered to its last resting-place.
Not a word wa3 spoken, and the oxen
from time to time turned their great
Lewis as though to have one last look
at the master who had cared for them
in all these past years, and so loved
them that he desired they should
carry him to his grave.
All "stood silett as the earth was
shoveled in by the sturdy, coatless men;
only the rushing torrent of the mountain
stream near by and an occasional
bird note in the stillness. At last the
work was complete, the spades laid upon
the sled and the huge beasts were
r^l Amltv Inww a/1 tnf a tt?/\ fnl 1 ATT?^
SiUYYXJ tUiUCU 1UUU UUC pauuj *T\J IU11UIT- I
ing, until we reached the little homestead
at the foot of the ravine. The
oxen were unyoked and quietly walked
into a field, and stood gazing as the sclsmn
procession that wound past them on
to the piazza of the house. A few words
were spoken, the key turned in the
door, and, with a "Well, we shall all
miss Uncle Ira,;' each went his homeward
And now for the strange story of the
man whose ending was but in keeping
with his lonely life. Fifty or more
years ago a 'stout New England boy had
accumulated acre by acre, and bis savings
enabled him to build a comfortable
house and barn in one of the most
hetuitrifnl siv?ts of all IWkshire. Hcraee
and homestead were made ready for his
wife. He thought he had won the
heart of a neighboring beanty, bnt it
was the old story; a new wooer from
bown carri<ni off the faithless damsel,
and bo for fifty years the man lived
alone?literally alone?with his animals.
Not; until three weeks ago wonld he
illow a woman to come near him; then
he had grown-weak and worn with age
and d isease.
Ilifi relations from year to year called
apon him at times, and he was constantly
cyiiinc into the village and doinc all the
good he coiild in his own peculiar way.
in anchorite, but not a herm t, he lived
outside of the world, outside of the
church, and hia last commands were
that lie would die as he had lived. No
clerg.pman was allowed to come near
him, and ho selected the spot, oatside i
ol: the graveyard, for his resting-place,
a knoll which overlooked his lonely
home. It was a curious episode of
steadfastness and simplicity on that
beautiful morning among the awful
hills.?Phil adelphia Ledger.
Whea to Stop Advertising-.
When every man has become so
thoroughly a creature of hafyit that he I
-it 1? 1 I.L*. 1 i. _ !
win certainly uuy tuis year wnere ne i
bought last year. When younger, j
fresher, and spunkier concerns in your
line cease starting tip and using the
newspapers in telling the people how
much better they can do for them than
you can. When nobody else thinks it |
pays to advertise. When population '
ceaseB to multiply, and the generations |
that crowd on after you stop coming on. :
When you have convinced "everybody i
whosa life will touch yonrs that you i
have better goods and lower prices ;
than they can ever get any place out- j
sidft of vnnr store. When vein npr/v-ivA
it to 1)6 a rule that men who never do j
and r.ever did advertise are outstripping j
their neighbors in the same line of business.
When men stop masing fortunes
right in your sight solely by a discreet
use of this mighty agent. When you
? - A. Al_ 3 ? t
can iorget me woraa 01 tne snrewaest
and most successful business men concerning
the main cause of their prosperity.
When yon would rather have
your own way and fail than take advice
-'4. fr-e'. w-?ti;
BAIK TO LITE.
How on Apocrontly Drowned Boy was Re?n*citaietf?
Hints that ,">Iay Frove Valaable.
A reporter for the New York Mail,
and Express was walking in the vicinity 'j
of the Fnlton Ferry in the company of I.
one of the officers attached to the Life- \
saving Service. There was a rush of
people to the Fnlton Market Slip, and
the officer and the reporter joined the
crowd to see the eicitemant. "It was j
I r?nf.Viinn 5* nr??k nf f Vm artA/ttaf ca-i^ fnrr?- i
liVUJJAUJlj VUV Vi liuv CUAU HU.M
ing to go away; "only a boy drowned!"
The life saving officer, however, seemed
to take a different view of the drowning
of a boy, and he hurriedly elbowed his
way through the crowd till he was" at
water's edge, with the reporter at his
elbow.' Three of the fishing schooners
were tied tip at this part of the pier
Bide, and on the deck of the third lay a
naked boy apparently dead. Half a
dozen marketmen and fishermen stood
by, sayinj? that the boy was dead and
that was all there was of it. The lifesaving
officer sprang aboard the nearest
schooner, and was immediately stopped
by a policeman who was on guard, lor
the boy had been out of tttfc water for
"Stand back," said the life-saver, "I ;
am a physician," and, followed by the .
reporter, he was soon on the deck on
which the drowned boy lay. i
The officer-physician felt the boy's
skin, felt for his pulse, drew up one of
his eyelids and looked at the pupil, and
asied the bystanders how long the boy ;
has been out of the water. i
"You can't get no job here nnless
jviu o cua Ui-Utiioaci} -axu \J1IC VI 1/LiC
men. "He was stack in the mad most j
ten minutes, and he's been layin' here 1
ten minntes more; so, if yon fetches i
him life, it'll be a little resurrection, <
and don't you forgit it." i
The officer paid no attention to the j
man's opinion, but denoted his whole j
time to the boy in a way that seemed to <
indicate some hope of saving the life (
that wa3 apparently gone. The boy I
could not have been colder or more ap- j
parently lifeless if he had been dead for ]
a week. - i
mL _ _ i ii ? * ? ?
xue omcer opened tne ooy s mourn,
an operation that required some force,
and found it frill of mcd. Pnlling the
lower jaw dowtf * as far as possible, he
introduced one of his fingers and carefully
bnt flnickly cleaned it out. There
was enough mud in the month to choke
th$, boy'if -he bad not been in the water
at all. officer whisked off his coat, I
rolled it trpjjinto a pillow, and laid ifc on
the deck. \?ith the assistance of two
or three of the bystanders, he turned
the boy over on his face, and laid him .
so that the coat-pillow was directly unI
der his stomach. Taking the boy's two
ankles in one of his hands, and giving
them to one of the men to hold up so
that the patient's feet were several feet
higher than his head, the officer pressed
carefully but firmly in the region of
the small of his back, and immtdiately
a stream of water gushed out of the
boy's mouth. It had been all this time
in his lungs, waiting only for proper
treatment to help it out. The boy was
then, after a minute or two of this exercise,
turned over on his back again, and
the officer knelt over him. Putting one [
hand on the boy's right side and the
other on his left, just over what is
known as "the short ribs,''the officer e
cave them a Dowerfnl compression, and n
then suddenly let go. The instant he t
took off uia hands the ribs sprang back c
to their natural position, and a draught v
of air rushed into the lirngs. This was ?
Tepewcca?j: ?^wwyi'mmo, ~Vnrt/- ^
still the boy was, to all appearances, a a
corpse. J p
"Oh, give ns a rest on that," said a
another of the men. "The boy's dead, s
and that settles it. Caa't yon let a
drowned boy alone?" v
The assertion that the boy was dead E
seemed to be only too true. He looked ?
like a piece of marble, and the reporter a
su gested that it was not worth while to f
make any further efforts. ?
"Why," 6aid the officer, "I hayen't i
begun yet. The boy may live, and he d
may not. But he's going to haye a fair p
chance for his life, anyhow. Stand A
back a little, all of you, and give him a c
little more air." T
Discontinuing for a moment the artifi- I
j ciai breathing process, the officer took fc
one of the boy's hands between His own ?
and began to slap it vigorously, at the a
eame time setting three of the bystanders t
at work on the other hand and two feet, t
The reporter relieved the officer at the g
slapping business, and thelatter resumed g
the lib-squeezing process, compressing v
f.VtA hnt's fram? till ho ranst bavA ftried n
for mercy if he had been conscious, v
With fonr men slapping his hands and d
feet, and an expert trying to start his h
breathing, the boy mnsfc have been nn- t:
reasonable indeed had he been dissatis- i<
! tied. But he still lay as dead as a stick, n
and, happily, unconscious. A
After about five minutes of this treat- p
ment, and very much to the surprise of fl
the market men and the reporter, and s
greatly to the delight of the life-saving i:
officer, the "bc^ gave a slight gasp for \
Just at this moment of triumph the h
policeman on guard called across the ?
decks 'Say, you'd better let that boy I
alone, ne s aeaa enongn.' t,
"Never mind what they have to say, t'
they don't know what they're talking g
about," said the officer. "Get me a J
glass of brandy." ji
He redoubled his artificial breathing o
treatrrent, and one of the fishing sailors g
went down into the cabin and soon re- p
turned with a tumbler nearly full of not a
very inviting-looking brandy. The boy a
meanwhile gasped again; had twitched p
a little in the legs; had rolled his head t
rt Art a ot?/3 of lio/l rlvoTCm O 4
good-sized breath. The minute he "
breathed the officer picked np the glass n
of brandy and poured the liquid down p
the boy's throat. t!
"Now, get me two or three blankets a
as quick as you can," said he, and at the s
same time he unrolled his coat and laid a
it over the boy. The patient continued b
to show more signs of life. He soon i
drew short but regular breaths, and ^
raif ed one hand to his head. Under the a
influence of the warm brandy in his o
stomach and the fresh air in his lungs b
he opened one of his eyes.
i;He is all right now," said the officer,
getting up with difficulty and straight
emng tne "KiDKs" out 01 his oac?.
"Wrap him up well in these blankets ,
and put him in a berth. Be sure you
make his hands and feet warm. If you ?
have a couple of empty bottles, fill
tbem with warm water, cork them well, v
and put them against his feet. Id ten r
orfiiteen mmutes give him another glass l.
of brandv. He will be able to talk to ?
jou inside of an hour and tell you where j**
he lives. But he will "probably be too |
weak to walk home, some of you will | ^
have to carry him. Come, old fellow (to I
the reporter), let us go. There is noth- J
ing more for us to do."
The profound respect with which he .
wns treated by the policeman on guard, *
aid the cceers of the crowd on shore,
woo knew the boy had b* en savt d from ,
d< ath only through the knowledge and
wrllingness of the life saving cfficer, J
were both thrown away upon him. *
'It's the easiest thing in the world," 1
eaid he, seated in the cabin of a ferry- ?
beat, "if yon only go at it right. I did i
i not know how long the boy had been in
| rbe water, and was a little afraid he ^
might be dead. If he was really dead,
sf conrpp, that settled it, for nothing
I haman can bring a dead person back to (
| life. Bnt if he was only in a state of !
I coma, as yon see he w?. it needed only \
j tae proper tieatment to set him on his ?
I pins again. Nine peopic ont of ten who j
i are fished ont of the water are not dead, j
j Ihe life is still there, bnt it is dormant, j
. . ;.
There are just three thirigs to do in such
a case. First, clean all the sand and
mud out of the patient's mouth, so he
will not choke to death; you saw how
I did that. Secondly, drain the water
'.it of his lungs ; you saw how easily
'bat was done; but be sure, in doing it,
aiwaye to have his feet higher than his
t:ead. Thirdly, start the respiration;
> ou know how to do that. But I might
have gone a little further. If the boy
1.? ,3 1 u i. ?1_ ~M i;?.
JL!?U 11VI UC^ULL tu bilU W ttlgus VI liiO
juet as he did, I should have breathed
into his Jungs to start them up. I
should not have given him up, at
any rate, with less than half
an hour's treatment. That is the usual
Life Saving Service method for restoring
apparently drowned persons. All
our surfmen are tanght how to do it,
and it is a valnable thing for them to
know, as you may easily imagine. The
boy ? Oh, he'll soon be all right, ready
to try it over again. But may be some
day he'll be eajing to himself, 'If only^
that miserable fellow had minded hi&
own business, and let me die when T
was so near gone!'"
^ctnres in the White Honse.
On tie lower lioor of the White
House, says a Washington letter, there
is a portrait of each one of the Presidents
of the United States, and a
stately painting representing Martha
Washington in richest attire hangs in
the East room." With the exception of
this official set of portraits and the
heads of Mrs. Tyler and General Jackson
in the npper corridor, there is not
a picture on the walls of the White
Honse. In the suites of bed-rooms,
Aiiu eve ix xix tuv private uuiiug xuum,
the vast wall spaces are bare, or only
ornamented bj the paper hanger's derices
and by the large French mirrors
set above every mantel-piece. There
ire no paintings or engravings belonginging
to the mansion itself, and in
3ispensingthe annual appropriations no
me ever seems to have thought of pictures
as essential to pleasure and comfort
of the inmates. General Grant
poesessed many handsome paintings,
with which he made the private part of
;he mansion take on a more human and
hospitable air, but they were packed
md sent to his Galena home when his
ease of the premises expired. Among
jeneral Grant's pictorial treasures was
;he original painting of "Sheridan's
Ride." bv Bnchan Reed, which was
presented by the poet-painter himself
ind is now with his other innumerable
rophies decorating the walls of his
louse in New York President Arthnr
s an admirer and something of a judge
)f art work, and at his Lexington aveme
house in New York he has many
ine paintings and valuable engravings.
iVith all the bareness of the White
loose walls staring him drily in the
ace, he refuses to despoil his home of
i single treasure, or change the least
>ne of its arrangements; a delicate senitwAvtf
A/\nr>f?Ainim/v TTTIaV? fiTTOVrr
1111CUU ^UliOUiaULlXXLg 1XJ.UJ. IV TTIOU OTOiJ
hing there to remain untouched?a
ionstant reminder of his wife, to whose
aste that habitation owes its charm.
Ie brought with him from New Tort
he miniature portrait of Mrs. Arthur,
et in a finely wrought bronze frame.
Chis picture, standing on a table
n his bed room, constitutes the
loueehold shrine, and is lighted in che
ivening hours by the shaded light of
n an antique bronze lamp. Bierstadt,
?ho is an old personal friend of Presilent
Arthur, remarked upon the bare
calls of the official residence, and forth
rith made an offer of some pictures
X V*.bjc"SX1*. j?_ /ni? ^
Tvrr fViA 4fftr/C
VVCjk/U^U KfJ bUV " ' - ' -' ' J ?uut UTQ
>ain tings of American scenery were at-"
t once sent down from New York this
They were hnng on the walls at the
rest end of the npper corridor of the
aansion, which the President has had
itted np as a snnggery, smoking-room
nd sitting-room for "himself and his
riends. The private staircase from the
Lrst floor leads np to this retreat, and
t is shnt off from the rest of the corri:or
by a heavy portiere of raw silk ta>estry,
shot with gold and silver thread.
* *>?A C 11 UTTl 4-iT-l A? AH AT>A /*>
l JJUIbiOlC ui iiua:i3U uuuu i/ia vuo oauq
onceals the door of the pink and bine
^mpadour apartment "occupied by
Resident Garfield, and a similar drapery
iaag8 at the entrance to- President
Lrthnr's pale aznre chamber. The
rched window at the end is filled with
'looming plants; the floor is covered
rith a part of the rich Tnrkey carpet
ent some years ago as a present to this
;overnment from the saltan, the preailing
tint of which is a soft, rich
range, arid the furniture is covered
rith dark gray-green plnsh. A writicgesk
at one side of this sitting-room
as its racks filled with dainty, creaininted
note paper, and the centre table
3 strewn with the latest books and
magazines. Several copies of the North
Lmerican Review occnpy a conspicuous
lace, and a rich Venetian lamp, with a
luted tulip-shaped globe of opal glass,
tands on this table. Big Shaker rockQg-chairs,
fans and the daily papers of
Washington and New York offer cornart
and company for the idle summer
.oura, and through the curtained doorrays
there comes the steady south wind.
Jierstadt's fine pictures are hui.g on
he walls of this informal apartment;
he largest, which represents a dark and
loomy mountain side canon of the
tocky mountains, occupying the wall
ast above the stairway. On one side
f it hangs a smaller canvas showing the
Teat Fan Geyser of the Yellowstone
ark in full play; and on th6 other side
view of the Yellowstone fall, with the
mber waters pouring straight over the
irecipice and dashing down the canyon
ward one. On the opposite wall is
he somewhat celebrated painting_of a
'Winter morning scene in the loselite,"
the giant rocks and valley walls
lowdered with soft lines ot snow, and
be trees bent and whitened with the
ccnmnlated flakes. The fifth picture
hows a calm, green-bordered lake, with
lone fisherman floating over it in a
ioat and dropping his line immediately
ato its waters. All of them are
worthy efforts of the great artist's brash,
nd on a hot day the gaze rests envinsly
on the cool waters and the snow
ianks of the western wonderlands.
Swvrfi nf Bas-el-Tin.
The Ras-el-Tin palace * as destroyed
iy the British fleet. There are thouands
of men aud women lying beneath
he blue wa'ers cf Alexandria harbor,
rho, if they were alive, would by no
aeans regret the fact. Innumerable
al<?s have been told of the dark deeds
lone on the Bcsphorus, which rolls over
he remains of thousands who have
alien victims to the sack, the bowstring
ir the cup of poison; but that fair pal,ce,
which but a few years aeo looked
ipon the strange Lake of Mareotis on
he one side, and upon the famous
ighthouse of Pharos on the other, has
a its time sent forth many and many a
nvsterious boat containing impassive
innuchs who were bound to semi to the
joltom of Alexandria stray woac-n and
nen who loved not wisely but too well,
fake it as one will, an Oriental harem
s a vile spot, full of crime, selfishness
md intrigne, and of ail the Eistern
larems tbe Paiace of Ba*-el Tin (the
3ape of Figs) was not one of the least
rile.?New York JJour.
There is in Brazil a common poi^
mou8 snake, the surncucu, respecting
vhich the following facts are relaied:
L'he natives say that snch is the antip.
ttby of the reptile to me tnat tney win
ruBh into it, scattering it with their tails
ill it is extiLgniahed, even becoming
oalf roasted in the attempt.
A letter fron Alaska in a Western
paper says: The Christmas ceremonies
b?gin with church on Christmas eve, !
which sort of exercise is resumed at 2
o'clock on Christmas morning and kept
up r.t intervals all Christmas night, ja
teisperssd with tea-drinking. On ,
Christmas ni^ht the young men go out j
with illuminated ttars and lanterns and
with banners of red or whi^e, singing
the story of the manger at Bethlehem. 1
The star3 are made fco revolve around a 1
centre whereon is painted a representa- 1
tion of a child lying in a snpposefl man- '
ger and surrounded by Mary, Joseph
and the shepherds (w&o reaiiy are not |
credited with having arrived, on the j
scene till twelve days afterward). The ]
stars are from two to three feet in
diameter from point to point, being "con- \
stracted of paper and glass on a light wooden
frame, the numerous long, \
tapering points being decorated with ,
leaves and flowers in water colors, testifying
to considerable skill in drawing.
They are illuminated by a candle
The first star song is sung in front of '
the church; the second is a serenade to \
the company's stable, listened fcc, doubt- less,
by the mule and two bulls with '
irreverence if not contempt. But the 1
manger must be worshiped. After the ^
song at tne stable the troupes cany 1
their eongsaad stars from House to nonse '
raking many a half dollar out of the
"American sky" pagans, and this is kept
np for three nights in some years, but
only two this year. As soon as the stars
are Jaid aside masquerading begins, and
continues till Eassian New Year's.
Every night a masquerade ball for
nearly a week. We had four masquerade
balls last week, winding up on New
Year's night with the fifth dance, but
not in masque. The last was a native
Aleut dance to the beating of sea lion
sliin tom-toms. Both men and women
participated in this, but they were mostly
old people, the younger generally pre
** a a?:it
1 erring wairzes, poisas ana qaauruuea wj j
guitar or accordian music." t
The masquerade is the greatest event f
of the year with these people. They ]
seem to en-joy it more than auy other ?
people could, for it is the only thing j
that takes them out of the lethargic e
life of a long dreaiy winter into a region t
of romance and fancy. It is the melo- f
drama of Cinderella for a few davs, and t
then comes the old life for another year, f
The women display considerable skill f
in getting up costumes for the masquer- j
ade, many of which are decidedly gay j
Ordinarily the Aleut women wear a
: h&wl over4the head when going out,
and in such a country of prevailing
gales, with rain, snow and hail almost f
every day in the yea*, that is probably
as comfortable as any that could be ]
devised for them. Some of the young ?
misses have hats for Sundays and holidays,
but the mature matron will not get J
further away from the shawl head gear
" ii- i c
man may oe cone in a nuDia or a colored
handkerchief on an exceptionally c
fine Sunday or saint's day. But in the 1
masquerade, the sauciest sort of little ?
hats, pith feathers and flowers, were
much affected, with the brightest color- J
ed skirts of many colors. In the Jj
masauerade they aim sometimes to imi- ^
tate the stj les which they see represented
in illustrated books a*d papers, and c
they go into the affair without regard to x
mcn&y or labor. As the masquerade e
continues for a number of nights these *
cost limes are transformed, interchanged, f
in small lots, a dra? consisting of a f
wb^te, a scarlet and a black skirt being *
distributed in three parts forsometbing *
tIi * | . . n. i^rxuaarsL renmo.-n | hog ^ afflig.' ?
ent dress each night Some ot me ?
women masquerade' in male attire at p
times, appearing in both characters of a
an eveniug, but always in her proper a
* ' *? u? ?i.:-v i.i iO
cnaracter as ineunmas&iag, wlhull is&ea
place in time for the tea, an inctfspensib!e
accompaniment of every dance. So J
also the men sometimes masquerade as
women, but their efforts meet with 8
greater success in the grotesque or 8
clownish etjle. 8
One feature of New Year's is kissing. '
The dance is kept up till midnight,
when guns are discharged and rootets ?
(brought up by the company) fired, alter .
which the population continues awake 1
and active all night, going about from ?
house to house kissing everybody and
drinking tea. Taken altogether, from ?
the 25th of December to the 13ih of v
January, the Christmas season on the a
Seal island is one of great interest to
the sative population. 15at at the close
of the present century the Russian
church promises to adopt the new style, c
which will bring the "Americansky" c
and "Russky" holidays together, and 1
cut off one half of the fun in Russian li
The Habits of Rooks.
The cawing of the rooks in February
shows that the time is coming when
their nests will be reoccupied. They
resort to the trees, and perch above the
old nests to indicate their rights; for in .8
the rookery possessions is the la-*, and 12
not nine-tenths of it only. In the slow,
dull cold of winter even these noisy
bird's are quiet, and as the vast flocks
pass over, night and morning, to and
from the woods in which tbey roost, ?
there is scarcely a sound. Through the a
mist their black wings advance in f
silence, the jackdaws with them are jt
chilled into unwanted quiet, and unless c
you chance to look up, the crowd may
go over unnoticed But so soon as the j
waters begin to make a sound in Febru- 0
ary, running in the ditches and splash- r
ing over stones, the rooks commence tlie
speeches aDd conversations which will 4
continue till iate into the following
autumn. The general idea is, that they
pair in February, but there are some rea- \
sons for thinking that the rooks, in fact, c
choose their mates at the end of the 1
preceding summer. They are then in. b
large flocks, and if only casually glanced 0
at appear mixed together without any o
order or arrangement. They move on i
the ground and fly in the air so close, b
one beside the other, that at the first ti
glance cr so yon cannot distinguish fc
them apart. Yet if yon sbonld be
lingering along the by-ways of the fields
as the s2s*rns fall, and the leaves come
rnstlingaown in the warm snnny antnmn
efternoons, and keep an observant eye
npon the rooks in the trees, or on the
fresh-tnrned fnrrows, they viil be seen
to act in conples alight near each other,
on the trees they perch near each other,
and in the air fly side by side. Like ~
soldiers, each has his comrade. Wedged
in the racks, every man looks likfc^ his fcl
fellow, and there seems*no tie between P
them bat a common discipline. Inti- ^
mate acquaintance with barrack or e
camp life wonld show that every one ?
had his friend. There is also the mess, b
or companionship of half a dozen, a '
doz< n, or more, and something li&e this e
exists part of the year in the armies of a
the rooks. After the nest time is over 6
~ < * -V. t - !_ - t 1
they flock rogetner, ana eacn iamuy 01 ,
three or four flte$ in concert. Later on ^
they apparently choose their own parti- s
cular lricn&s?that is, the young birds r
do so. Ail through the winter after, ?
say October, these pairs keep together, ?
though lost in the general mass to the 8
passing spectator. If jou alarm them *
while feeding on the ground in winter, *
supposing you have not got a gun, they c
merely rise up to the nearest tree and 1
it may then be observed that they do ^
this in pairs. One perches on a branch, *
and another comes to him. When *
February arrives, and they resort to the I
nests to look after or seize on the pro- *
perty there, they are ia fact already j
I aired, though the almanacs put down
St. Valentine's day as the date of court- '
ship.? TGood Words. <
The p^pu'atioa of Egypt is 5,500,000. '
An English reronaut, Mr. Joseph
Simmons, has made a balloon- trip of
L70 miles in an hour and three quarters. - ^
It is proposed to try an improved
phonogragh in a Paris institution for
beaching pupils the pronunciation of 'M
foreign language. $
The number of hours of br'ght sun
3hine recorded at Greenwhich Observa- :%
bory durinj? 1881 was 1,301, which is
more tnan iuu nours aoove uie sywa^o
of the four preceding years.
Mr. Villers Stuart records thai when %
the mommy of the great warrior Thoth- '
mes III was unswathed the body was n
found to be unusually shoit and slight.
Hardly had a rapid photograph been
taken of the figure than the fragile remains,
as if in protest against the viola- ->? ^
tion of their rest, vanished into dust,
md took their departure like a dream.
Last May a remarkable mirage woe ' "f.
witnessed between 4 and 7 o'clock one !'-j
jfternoon at the Lake of Orsa, Sweden, M
[latitude 61p,) in a region, by the way, -fo
notable for phenomena of this kind.
RSrofc lawrfl and fita&mbofiis WSX8
observed as if plying on the lake, and '-A
[h8ir outlines were very cisfcnct. The
f annels of the vessels seemed to emit - Ifl
smoke. Then a transformation occurred.
In place of the drips there were '?$
rerdnre-clad islands. Lastlv, a haze '"'-i
jame on and the wonderfal spectacle
The failure of seeds to grow during
he cold season proves that a higher
lempeiafcure is necessary for their ge>
ninauoo, ana is la a uaiumi oujr
position that the best results are to be
jbtained when the heat has been raised
<o as high a degree as possible without
iestroying the seeds. Prof. H. Baillon
ihows that this is far from being the t
sse with all seeds. In ao xperimeni
repeated several times, he has obtained
i mnch more rapid growth from almond
md walnut seeds in the house kept at a _
emperature varying during thetwenty^^our
hours from 41 to 59 degrees
Fahrenheit than in a house heated to -J|
>9 to 77 decrees Furthermore, the
ilants started in the warm house were
aruer arresiea m taeir uev?ui/puwu?
han those from the cool house. A sM
urfcher study of this subject might lead
o valuable results iu showing the most
avorable temperature for hot houses
or the various kinds of seeds, and in
>ointing out the plants which cannot be
jrofiiably forced in hot houses.
And u Was ffot."
They were a strange family; no one
iver died with them and was buried.
Chey laid their dear ones away, and
?hen they spoke of them said they had
'passed over" or "gone home." '%
fhere was Jamie, with the blue eyes
,nd golden hair; when tney alluded to
he time of Ms death they said: " When
>ur boy was called," and in running
>ver the names of their little flock the &
aotber wonld say: "Jamie and Nellie
le sleeping." It seemed so strange to :M
he people about them, for they were
lot Quakers nor soul-sleepers, nor did " 5
hey belong to any sect. It was just
heir own quaint way. For they were
he world's people after all, dressed as
ithers did, all but the dear old grandaother,
who had so nearly finished her
arfchly pilgrimage, and went to the
ileasure retorts with as much zest for
njoymentas the most trifling world- ^
ing ; nay, more, for under it all they
tad concealed a freshness and goodness . S;
hat kept the arid, desert of fashion
[reen with its own up-springing. They
I.J.M U.iwmo?TTrZbf pi? ttnfli^.
ceary, bat looked on with shining eye*
ud saw the pictures of life grouped "
bout them and were content witn their
It was to these people, making a pie- 2
are of peace and beauty, th at all loved 4
n l/\r?V o.f. in thaf vpflp* liffhfc. V?V <hfl
easide, that a suddenr call came?ames- -||
acre over tbe wires; *nd as others
withered about with blanched faces aad
whispered one solemn word?death-*
hey looked up with tear-wet lashes and
cboed softly and with trembling lips
'Life'' and passed away from among us I
q gentle, noiseless haste.
For this is what had come to them :
'he old grand-dame, with her feeble
tep and silver hair, had "passed away"
a the morning watch; gone so swiftly
nd peacefully that?
' They thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died."
And when they laid her awiay in the
lover-tufted lot, bj the sida of the
ompanion of her ycutb, they found the
ist words she had written, with tremu3U3
band?just a verse, which showed
* ? ? ' .
uem wnere sne naa oeen m spirit;
"They are all gone into the world of light,
And I a-'one sit lingering here.
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my ead thoughts doth cl^ar."
Then they laid aside the few posses?
ions she had left, and underneath hex
ist writing they added this:
" Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone,
Bat present still,
And waiting for the coming hour
Of God's sweet will I"
And when they speak of her it is to
ay she has gone to the next country,
nd they smile to themselves as they
ty to picture what she is doing, to
oilow her in that white world, whose
rystal promise glitters in every sky.
Eye hath not seen, neither hath ear
teard, nor has it entered into the heart
if marl to conceive" of its beauty.
'ar out of sight while yet the flesh enfolds ns
Lies the fair coantijr wfcere our hearts abide, nd
of its bliss is naught more wondrous told us
ftinf Tw/\W?a- UT "
There is a tender and true story of
Valt Whitman ; at the funeral of a little
hild, a nephew, the poet sat near the
rhite coffin, and held on his- knee a
lesotiful little girl; she looked is
hlldish wonder upon t he paraphernalia
f death, and then inquiringly gaaed
atoihe old man's faoe. "Yon don't now
what it is, my dear, do you," paid "j
he poet gently ; then he added, refleci"*!"
< VailliiiT nn wo I"
L T C1J v?w nw
"Nothing is known; but I believe
That God is overhead,
And as life is to the living,
So death is to the dead."
?Detroit Free Pre a.
Child Attacked by ru EajrK
The Seattle (W. T ) C-/ironi-I* save:
l three-year-cld child of Alr/jad. Mrs.
V'allingford, living on Late VYasQingc-n.
twelve miles from Seattle, v;Lnle
laying on the doorstep L.st Tuesday,
:&8 attacked by an eagle and elevated
iglit or ten feet from the ~.j|
round. The screams of the little one *
nought Mrs "Waliingtord to the rescue, ^
rho succeeded finally in driving the
agleaway. The child:a Shoulders and
rms were considerably lacerated by the
harp talons of the eagle. The mother
?as so overcome by excitement 'has she
as since been prostrated. It was *ub*quently
aj-certaiotd that the eagle or
- *- - ^ o rusct in T> A
a&utzr a j/ttu sjx vuou) iitu a
liflf of rocbs about one hundred rods
lit-tant from the honse, and it is reasonble
to presume that bad not the cbid's
a other put in u timely appearance the
>cd? of the little on? wouid have b:-en
ahied to th* chfT and its tender iie*h
orniu8hr?ds and d>vided amoDg the
onng eaglets. Mr. Wallin^ford'srifle,
lowever, has put a quietus cn any
urther depredations by this partbniar
5air of marauders. The largest of the
-wo eagles measured seven feet from tip
o tip, and weighed nearly fifty pccnd?. -.p!
rhA American eagle is a proud bird of -Jsii
'ame, but when he so far forgets Jug r^ga
dignity as lo make an assault on a three- rifp
fear old child, our admiration of hia
dngly bearing is considerably lessened. '-ifll