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The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, September 20, 1882, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/2012218613/1882-09-20/ed-1/seq-1/

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WEEKLY EDITION. WIKNSBOKO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBEE 20, 1882. ESTABLISHED IN 1844.
Yanishcd Honrs.
"Where are they gone, those dear dead days,
J Those sweet past days of long ago,
/ "Whose ghosts go floating to and fro
"When erening leads us through her maze?
"Where are they gone? Ah! who can tell?
"Who weave once more that long pass 1
L spell?
fe They did exk: when we were yonng;
IV a *jl nv><^ V?n e t
rf?i? uici uur mo wiui swcu^iu cwu wuov ,
i We deemed all things were pure and just,
Nor knew life had a double tongue.
We lightly sang a happy song,
Nor dreamed our way could e'er be wrong.
And then all changed: as life went by
The friend deceived, or bitter death
Smiled as he drank our dear one's breath, !
And would not let us also die.
Day followe^lay; as on they went
"Each took some gift that life had sent. j
Tet it was ours, that perfect past:
"We did have days that knew not pain;
We once had friends death had not ta'en
And flowers and songs that oould not last
Were ours in that most blessed time,
When earth seemed heaven's enchantod
clime.
And so I think, when lights burn low
And all the house is fast asleep,
From oat a silence vast and deep
Those <S<ear dead days vre -worshiped so
-Braathe on us from their hidden store
"Tfieli long lost peace, their faith once 1
more.
God keep those dear old times; ah, me!
Beyond onr vision they may rest
Till on some perfect day and blest
One? more those dear dead days 'will ba.
For Death, who took all, may restore
The past we loved to ns once more.
A STOSY OP VENICE.
Some twelve years ago I was staying
in Venice. It had been the dream of
my boyhood to visit the city, and the
scenes of those striking events in history
and romance I had read so often.
The Doge's palace and the church of
St. Mark's had been familiar^ to me
from my earliest recollections, from
'paintings and pictures to be found
everywhere; and now I saw the j
glorious reality ; though perhaps at i
first I was rather disappointed, because J
it did not quite reach the height of my j
imagination.
To the EngLsh reader espe. .illy
Venice must have unutterable charms.
For has not Shakespeare invested it
with a brighter halo of romance than ;
even the brightest page or History could {
give it? When we hear the name of Venice
a<* we not rather think of the j
Venice of Shylock, of -\ntonio, of
Othello, than the city of Baxbarossa, of
Henry Danclolo, or of Francis Foscari ?
On my tirst arrival t went, according!
to the custom of Englishmen, to see;
^ everything at once ; and was soon able j
to say with truth that I had " stood in I
Venice on the Bridge of Sighs."
But I soon found out that there was |
nothing to be gained by being in such j
a hurry; that it was much better to j
take things in a quiet sort of way, as 11
had plenty of time to see the place enjoyably.
Besides, it is no joke going
sight-seeing in summer-time at Venice;
the heat is so great that it makes one
in a perspiration even, to think of
L. moving; ML
... _ the. heat of the sun's..xay?j
' t*egan sensibly to decline, the people
f., * came out, and gondolas flitted backward
and forward, bearing freights
of all kinds; old, stately-looking men
and women, with grave, dignified faces,
?? ? ? ? ? <v AI -V?nrr ] ?orl ctarvno/l
UlitKLLl^ UilC IULLUV. Liicio h<x\x I^W^^VU
out of their frames in the adjoining
palaces; laughing,dark-eyedsignorinas,
as careless and lighthearted as if the
Austrians had never set foot in their
city; English people and other foreigners,
and now and again the white uniform
of an Austrian officer?all intent I
, on one object?enjoyment, and feeling;
relieved to be once more free from the |
rays of the scorching sun, and refreshed ;
by the cool deliciousness of a midsum- j
mer twilight. Truly the Austrian rule
had not been able to extinguish all
ffloimw /vF IAV in ptians. chanced
Vi JV-.. ~ , 0
though they may be from their ancient
renown!
I hired a gondola for my own use,
and, lying lazily on the cushions j
smoking my cigar, made my gondolier j
sing to me Italian songs, which he as-!
sured me were from Ariosto. As I;
could not prove the contrary, I was i
bound to believe him, though they i
might have been his own words for i
ought I knew.
Well, one evening I had come out as !
usual, and my gondolier had taken me i
down a quiet street leading fros^ the ;
Grand canal, but whose name I ^get.'
I sat looking at the grand old palaces |
each side of me?their beauty more j
thac ever apparent in the light of the j
. moon, which was just Rising?and i
? - J-- ii..:. A!
lOOKing Up tU LUCIA sjuciav iijuuuiio i
thought that from just such another, j
or perhaps from the same, ^ the pretty |
v Jessica might have stolen to her lover;'
and I could not help?bemoaning that!
the race was extinct, that elopements
had gone out of fashion, and that there i
was no chance now of meeting pretty :
girls bringing their own dower in ,
'* ready money with them, when my attention
was directed to the figure of a
woman on the balcony of a house we
. were close upon. Directly she saw me
% she leant forward a little, threw a let- {
* ter into the boat and immediately af
terwara aisappeareu.
Here was a mystery! The -window j
where I had seen her lay in the shadow !
. ^V of the moon, so that I had not been !
able to see what she was like. That j
she was young I was almost certain, i
for the light had been sufficient for me j
to notice that her figure was slight and I
small, and of course I imagined that;
she must be beautiful
I opened the letter by the light of j
' my lantern and found the following |
words, " written in choice Italian," and j
i in a very neat and pretty hand: j
r<?T?rw "VT-rn T rannnt. r-Amc trvm'cht.* !
VAJftV -JXIV JL. VVW*A*VW VV?V ^ 7 ,
I will meet you at the same hour to-!
? morrow. Come close up to the win-'
dow nearest the water; I can descend \
t&jjf easily from thence, an^here is not so
much chance of being ^Seeru Provide
cloaks, that our figures may be completely
disguised. Till then, adieu.
"Ahixa."
9REr What was I to make of this? I had
no intimate friends in Venice, and j
K certainly had no acquaintances to ad-'
| dress me like this. I asked my gondolier
if he knew the house, but he did
. not
I told him to go back the same way,
in order that 1 might see the figure I
again, if it happened to be there; but
the house seemed quite deserted; and
all I noticed was a man in a gondola, I
?i-.-.v J TTo j
YV1UUU p?15>seu ClUSC t/V uimt. liv
tracted my attention by the peculiar
hat he wore.
Hffn l I determined at first to take no notice
of the letter; but the love of an
adventure, such as this promised to be,
was too strong for me; and, besides,
vanity whispered, " "Who knows, some
one may have fallen in love with you
gPSfe - -^unawares!"
k Moreover, I was anxious to see if
the lady was really pretty?whether
she would turn out a real Jessica; so 1
made up my mind to be at the place at
' the appointed time.
AS the z&xj day I wag in a fever oi
fQp
f excitement; I longed tor the evening,
: and thought that the sun -would never
' set. As soon as it began to get dark I
I stepped into the gondola, and told my
man to go the same way as last night.
we neared the place, I felt a little
: nervous, and even thought once or
; twice of turning back or going in
another direction, and that I might
only fall into some scrape or trap if I
persevered in my intention; but it
was too late before I could come to any
decision?we had already entered the
silent street.
As I had been directed in the letter,
T i J :J.J i j i a
jl nau. pruviucu cioaKS, ana nau enveloped
myself in one, completely disguising
my person with the help of a
slouched wide-awake kind of hat
turned down over my eyes. I felt
very much like an operatic brigand
about to do some deed of darkness.
There were more people about than
there had been the night before, so I
thought it was prudent to paddle
ahnnt. Tint, t,n PYfifp attention, am] t.n
wait till the coast was pretty clear
before taking my boat under the
balcony*
At last my gondola was about the
only one near, so I seized the oppor-:
tunity, and told the gondolier to steer
it to the appointed window. There,
sure enough, was the figure, and as
soon as I was close enough, and had
made fast our boat the best way I was
able, she handed me some packages,
which I thought at the time rather'
heavy, and followed herself immediately
afterward, getting lightly over the
low balustrade of the window, and
alierhtinor somewhat unexnectedlv. at
o O x ' I
least to me, into my arms, which were
extended for her assistance in getting j
down. j
As soon as she was in the gondola!
she whispered to me to be off at once,
before being discovered.
My man came to ask what part of
the city we would go. Fortunately,
0>efore I could speak, the lady mentioned
some place, which, though I had
never heard of it before, he seemed to
know. She then said to me, somewhat
in surprise:
" Why, you have changed your gondolier
since the last time !"
I could do nothing but assent to
this, and then held my finger to my 1
mouth to tell her that we had better
not talk. She seemed to agree with
me; and for -greater secrecy I drew the
curtains of the gondola.
As I was doing so, and as we were
turning the corner of the canal, I noticed
that the gondolier I had seen the
night before with a man in a peculiar
hat passed close to us.
I had a very gosd reason not to wish
to talk, for I knew perfectly well that
if I spoke out loud I should be betrayed
directly by my bad pronunciation
and bad* Italian.
jbut; as we giiaea aiong, ana axiuiih
nestled closer to me, I could not help
thinking that I was playing the part
of a real villain in not discovering my
self. Her demeanor and lady-like
bearing convinced me entirely that she
was not what I toother to be ; and I
felt sure that I was 'the cause of some
curious mistake, and was passing for
somebody else. I made up my mind
as soon as we had landed to show myj&lf
ic n?y.i.rue colors. v j
After some little time the boat sud- j
- dfinly stopped^ and-on drawing ;
the curtains I found In a part
of the city I did not know.
We landed at a quay running in
yv-P V?micoc irhiVh r*r\ r?AnVif.
JLllALLO VJL JUVU^VU, ti **V V?.VW.VW
had seen better days. They were very
old and some almost in ruins.
Carrying the packages before mentioned,
I followed Amina into one of
the houses, which seemed like a small
inn. A man, evidently the landlord,
was standing at the door. Directly he
saw my companion, he made her a polite
bow, aind saying something I did not
quite understand led the way upstairs
to the first landing. He did not seem
surprised to see either her or me, and I
kept behind, wondering more and more
how it would all end.
On the first landing we entered a
room, neatly fitted up and cleanly furnished?the
last somewhat a novelty
in Venice anywhere, and more especially
in a place like this we had
come to, judging by the look of the
citizens outside.
There was only one lamp in the fur
ther comer of the room, wtucn gave a
very subdued light, and I stood by the
door, somewhat in the dark. The
landlord left the room; but before I i
had time to offer my explanations, she
threw off her cloak and I saw before
me one of the prettiest, dark-eyed
signoras I thought I had ever seen.
I did not know what to do, and mv
confusion was further increased when
she said in her native tongue?musical
at all times, but on this occasion rendered
doubly musical by the voice that
spoKe it:
"How provoking it was. dearest,
that I could not come last night! My
father suddenly altered his indention
and did not leave till to-day. 1 was so
fearful lest he had discovered us."
I thought after this that it was high
time to show who I was, so I took off
my hat, which I had hitherto kept on,
and came close to her by the light.
She came toward me, suddenly
-topped, gave a little scream, and burst
jut crying, saying:
" I am betrayed ! I am betrayed !"
Her scream brought the landlord up,
and he looked scarcely less astonished
than she had done when she saw me
standing before her.
"How is this sign or?" he said at
length. " What are you doing in this
lady's room?"
"You yourself saw me come with i
her," I replied ; and turning to the lady j
I said: ".raraoix me, signora, due j. iear
we have both been laboring under a
mistake. I received your letter last i
night asking me to keep an appoint- |
ment. I have done so?somewhat
wrongfully and foolishly, perhaps?and
I am sincerely sorry if I am the cause !
of bringing you any unhappiness'
through my boyish love of romantic
adventures. I should have told you of
this at first; I commit ted a great error
in not doing so; and now if I can!
make you any reparation in my power
" ?-*-* s\ nr\cl 54" C?Vkoll " ;
' ill\ JLiiC <li.HA AC OillUJ. UVUV.
She looked at me with surprise, and i
mailing through her tears, replied :
"You are not so much to blame as I
am ; it is I who am foolish in mistaking
you for my ljusband."
" Your husband!" I cried.
" Yes," the lady continued. " Mine
:s a story that does not take long to j
i?*lL It is the old, old tale. My father j
ic unrl mv InvAr i<? nnnr and
fore it was a crime for him to think of
making me his wife. I thought differently,
however, and some few months
ago was secretly married to him. I
I hoped that time and circumstances"?
here she slightly blushed?" would
have some effect in softening my
father's determination; but when i
mentioned to him my husband's name
1 the other night, he forbade me to think
: of him any more. Seeing that all my
! efforts were of no avail I determined
to leave my father's house and Venice,
: rather than lead a life that was insupportable
to me. I availed myself of
; the opportunity of my father's being
; away from home for a week to put my
i design into execution. Last night I had
! fixed for my husband to come and fetch |
i me, but unfortunately my father sud|
denlv altered his intention, and did not
| leave home till this morning. Seeing
1 you pass so close to the window yester- J
day evening and look up toward me, I
made sure it was my husband's gondo;
la. It was too dark to see quite plain ly,
: ami I threw the letter to you.. You
lrnow Hip r^it "Rvprvfhirior Dflsswl nfF i
so naturally to-night that I had not the
least suspicion who you were, es;?e|
:?'ly as I did not hear your voice out
lo^'i. The hat you -wore completely
i disgi \1 you, and your beard is the
; same lor and the same form as my
i husband's. I must say that I ran not
: help thinking that you did not act
; quite fairly in not discovering yourself
sooner, jsut wnai s uone can i De undone,
and I forgive, if you promise Lot
to betray me, and help me, now I am
! unprotected."
So saying she extended her hand to
me, which, I scarcely need say, I took
j most willingly.
" Only say what you will have me to
do," I said, " and you shall see how glad
I shall be to repair my fault."
" Well, you must find my husband
I for me; here are two places where he
is likely to be found," showing me her
tablets.
I had just taken them in my hand
I when the door of the room was sudi
denlv oDened. nearlv knocking over
the landlord, who had been standing
with his back to it all this time, not
quite recovered from his astonishment,
and a man entered the room whom I
: recognized instantly as -the man with
i the peculiar cap I had seen pass me in
j the canal.
I was not left long in doubt who it
was, for Amina immediately ran toward
him with open arms. But he
received her coldly, and asked what all
the night's proceedings meant, at the
same time looking at me with no very
friendly eye.
He was told what the reader already
knuws, but would not believe it for |
some time, till I assured him several j
times on my word of honor that it was
I true, and that I alone was to blame.
He softened by degrees, and at last
toir^> Amina to his arms, who was
standing sobbing beside him. I wondered,
however, he could be jealous of
her, she seemed so fond of him, and
looked so pretty in tears.
I felt myself a great ruffian in havinor
h^r so rmifh riistrpss. and
made a solemn vow for the future
never to have another night adventure
such as this. Seeing that I was open
with him, and did not hesitate to describe
all that took place, he at last extended
his hand to me and said he was
satisfied and believed I had spoken the
truth.
| We soon got friendly after this, and
11 asked him how it was that he had
followed us to the place where we then
were.
" I always keep this room," he said,
" in* case I might want it at any time;
nri.'l had h;id it nrpnarpd for rav wife's
reception yesterday evening. She has
been here with me once or twice before,
and it is in a very secluded and
quiet part of the city. 2Cot seeing her
at the window last night, I concluded,
and I find rightly, that her father had
not left the house, and that she had
not ?ared the-risk of speaking with
-assi?t weiil ug^in UMilgLVbufc ;
with the same result; sol came on here
to see if any letter or message had been
sent to tell me the cause of her nonappearance.
On my arrival, to my
i great surprise, I was told she had al;
ready arrived half an hour before, ac!
r>nrrmnrufvJ hv a mvnlipr T frpplv onn
fess to you that I was not a little
troubled when I heard this u but if I
had thought a moment, I must have
felt that my jealousy was ill-founded.
You must have been a formidable
rival, indeed," he continued, laughing,
" to have braved the lion in his very
! den." "
I then asked him where he intended
going, and what he was going to do.
He said liis destination was Engj
land; that his profession was that of
; an artist, and that he hoped to get a
livtrimuuu. uv ma punuii.
I told him I should be only too delighted
to render him any little service,
and gave him my name and address
in London, asking him to csill
and see me.
"And now," I said, "as I am
afniid unknown artists do not always
thrive at first starting, I hope you will
not think that I am intruding too
much into your private affairs by offering
you the loan of some money for j
your present necessities.
Amina replied for him.
" There is do occasion for that, I
thank you," she said. " I have enough
there"?pointing to the bags I had
carried up?" to last us for some time."
Her husband looked rather annoyed
and uncomfortable at this. It
was evident that she had brought them
away from her father's store. lie said
+V?of w/vn'M a nrmnr if
bliCil l_i.V ?l VU^U UVU LUUVyli %At J^/VUAt^ Vi i V,
and that he would send them secretly
back as soon as he was able. A sud-.
den idea struck me. I offered to take
them, and my offer was thankfully accepted.
On asking the name of Amina's
father, I found, to my great wonder,
that it was no other than that of
Signor.S , my own banker during
my stay in Venice.
I went to liim three or four days
afterward, and found him at his banki
t? mica "in^f rofn rri o/I frrim lii c
XAA^-JlAV/UO^j iVtUiiJLVU. JLJLVxjh a lxkJ
journey. He had come back instantly
on hearing of his daughter's flight.
He was furious, as he naturally would
be, and narrat -d to me the story of his
wrongs, fancying that I knew nothing
about them. He said nothing about
the money, however, and I concluded
that it had not yet been missed. .
After the rage iLto which he had
worked himself by talking had somewhat
subsided, I gently approached the
subject I came about. It A\as quite
r<ninfnl tn spp thf> workings of his fncfi
as I told him now his daughter had
robbed him. This seemed the "unkindest
cut of all."
" I don't believe she could have done
it herself," he said. " It must have
been that scoundrel who prompted her
to do it."
"But," I said, "you are entirely
mistaken. That scoundrel, as you call
him, knew nothing about it. It was
he who asked me to return it to you.
Believe me, sir, you would alter your
opinion of iiim were you to know him."
"And you are one of his friends,"
he said, with a sneer. " I see how it is;
this is a regular plot to rob me of all I
possess. B ut we will see whether there
is yet .SLcient law in Venice to protect
me."
I told him I knew nothing . jre of
his son-in-law than that I had uiet him,
iis the reader already knows; and I saw
that he was somewhat amused, and his
i angry frown somewhat relaxed,- as I
told him how I had made his daughter's
acquaintance; for in his rage and
excitement he forgot that I had not
known Amina before.
After a long interview, in which I
pleaded strongly for his child, telling j
him, both for her sake and his own, it i
would be better to nusn tne matter up,
he consented to see her and her hus;
band.
i I joyfully took good news to
them, and was just in time to leave
them to stay where they were till they
heard from me again.
After the first interview, as I hiid
expected, no obstacle was thrown in
the way of their union, and before I
had left Venice I had the satisfaction
of seeing the family once more united.
v minq +/\V1 ms T hart snffim'pntlv rp
uvuu Jbav A utvv? W , w
paired my fault, and I have congratulated
myself ever since that my night
adventure ended so happily.
Gathering Hnman Hair in France.
About the month of ilay the gatherers
of the lover order of trades, peddlers.
etc.. commence harvesting; they
come to the villages at regular intervals.
The largest cut is made in Auvernia
department ("Western France)
during the annual fair, about St.
John's day, when the gatherer, with
his wares and shining coin, most successfully
tempts the unsophisticated
country girls, ;ind becomes owner of
thp, choicest of their hair at the lowest
possible price. The provincial girl, as
she is called, will make her choice
of merchandise or give orders for
something else. The scissors may
at once come into use, and accounts
settled, or she may take advance payments
for her silken coils, to be cut at
some future time, the hair to grow until
a time stipulated. Advances may
be made on the next four or five years'
crops; the executioner with his scissors
will rather be later than too soon
to uncoil his fair debtor, for such debts
??? ? TI-IOCH rrfltliprin
(lie Cll >> CIJ O 11UUV1CVU AUVWV ,
(one of the curiosities of Parisian industry)
last from spring to fall, when
the gatherers make their last delivery
of hair, balance merchandise or contracts
taken, square their own accounts,
and return to their various trades, by
which they strive to accumulate small
sums of money or merchandise to as.
sist them in their luring traffic nexi;
spring. Such as are not so fortunate
are assisted with the required money
and merchandise by the factor (de courtier),
which is the useful,and to some the
indispensable, banker and middlemen
between them and the large buyer,
merchant and preparer. A factor will
equip several hundred men, and appoint
the day and the village where he
will meet them, about once a month,
to make settlements. There they will
be relieved of their stock of hair and
T-*y?i1 oniclior! fnr
cm: I J. JJClU&t Cliiu U.J. -UV/ ivjinvuiwuvu
further decoy and chasing. The
peasant girls and women are not the
only ones who furnish the contingent
to the world's demand of this luxury.
Large quantities of beautiful hair,
soft, clean and delightfully perfumed,
come into the market. One can almost
imagine that he can yet see the
hand of the virgin's lover on its
waving brilliancy, or it may be an act
of devotion of Venus, a last resource
trv her Ainhnnse out of funds. Again,
they may be the spoils ~ of
holiness, virgins offering their bodies to
Christ ana church despoiled of the
charming tresses by the creaking
shears of the godly servants, who at a
clear profit for hard cash return them
to that world where they had been so
much admired. A considerable quantity
of hair is derived from chapels or
chrinoe in Ttrittanv. where, according
to an old custom, a great number of
devotees make 'offerings j>?. tj^^hajr
toTSrotfier" Virgin Alary, and as those
donations accumulate they are scattered
among all nations, creeds, virtues
or otherwise?such is heavenly accommodation.
In Venetia, Lombardy and
Piedmont 2,000 gatherers are employed,
who send their cuttings to the
French market. ? American Hair
isressvi.
The Last of the Tramp Printers.
" Poor old Match ett!" wrote George
C. Harding, a little more than a year
ago. Poor old Matchett again came
into this office the other day on his
regular annual tour. lie "was several
weeks behind schedule time, and age
lias driven the burin deeper into the
lines in his face. There's more curve
in his spine, more stoop in his shoulders.
His hands tremble and his legs
are weaker, lie is drawing nearer to
the close of his pilgrimage, and it
doesn't matter, perhaps, that he gets
feebler as he nears the last milestone.
The haven of rest is just beyond. " I'm
a settin' my last paragraph," said the
old man, sadly. " When I was here
before," he continued, looking around,
" George Harding said to me, ' jtfatchett,
you can't last long,'' and here I
am; he went first."
George "Washington Matehett is now
in his seventy-seventh year, a Bal- ]
timorean by birtft, the last 01 toe oia j
line of typographical tramps, and the i
most picturesque subject in I
trampdom. "It's my forty- [
fourth annual tour," said he, " and I'm
the last of 'em. Tom "Wallace and I
traveled together for many a year, but
lie's gone. Years ago I planted a wil- I
low on his grave at Bucyrus, Ohio.
Tom and I -worked for Horace Greeley
on the New Yorker. Why, I worked
in thi^ town on the third number of
the Sentinel. Old Charley "Warner
was the foreman. Dead now. I'm
the onlv one of that force?editors,
compositors, pressmen?left alive. "We
must do all the good we can as we.
journey through life," continued Matehett,
in a ruminating tone. " My record's
clean."
And so we think it is, old man. The
only harm you have done has been to
yourself, with the enemy that annually,
etc., and why need that be marked
against you ? Fellow-travelers are we
along life's dusty highway, and you the
oldpr and more travel-worn. Your
hand, old friend; God bless you!?Indianapolis
Review.
A Hero of the Jeannette.
Lieutenant Danenhower has given
to a reporter of the "Washington Star
an account of Alexy, the hero of the
Jeannette expedition, whose name was
little known until found penned so
often in the s?. i< -nal of Commander
De Long. Du all tnat marcn to
death in the Lena delta, it will be remembered,
it was Alexy who went on
ahead to explore the way, it was Alexy
who secured for the wanderers their
meager supply of food, it was Alexy
who gave his coat to save De Long
from freezing, and it was Alexy who,
faithful to the end, at last succumbed
and lay down to die among the latest
survivors. This brave man was an
Alaskan Indian, from St. Michael's,
Xorton Sound. lie was finely proportioned,
with small, delicate-looking
hands and feet. Among the Jeannette's
crew he was a general favorite on
account of his polite manners and
readiness to help in any work. He
1-^1. 1
learned ine x^ngiisu uipuuuct, ua-ame
expert at stuffing birds, and also learned
to draw. lie was a fine dancer, and
often amused the crew by illustrations
of Indian war-dances, fie was very
fond of his family, and at times became
homesick, fearing his wife and little
boy would not have sufficient clothing
while he was away. Before sailing he
had made arrangements to have .his
pay all given to his wife. She will not
know of his death until next spring,
and it is thought that some arrange;
ment will be made by which she will
i receive his pay up to that time.
BOEDER TILES.
Foi-t Laramie and Im Hirtory?-The Bloody
Deeds of the Notorious Slade?-The Execution
of Three Bad Indians.
There is no place that has played so
important a part life the history of the
"Western frontier raid yet one that is so
little known to the general reader as
old Fort Laramie, in the Territory of
Wyoming, says a correspondent writing
from that region. For years this ancient
frontier fort was the only trading
lost for hundreds of miles around it,
and consequently was the rendezvous
of the trappers and hunters who pursued
their dangerous and exciting avocations
in the Black hills, a hardy and
reckless class of men who recognized
no human law and who regarded the
i-nifo o'vi tiiA nrnnpr arbiter
<U1VI ivuii.v v?v
of all disputes and differences. The
post was established by the North
American Fur ^company in 1845,
and was purchased by the government
in 1&49, since which time it has
been occupied by-troops snd used
.as a storehoii^j^.ioi^-Tnilii-ary -sifcfc
plies. It is slt>near, 'he west
birnk of the L&amie rival, a mile
aimvp its nmctioii with the Platte, on
an elevated plain surrounded by sand
hills. The adotefwall which originally
inclosed it, and the old buildings
of the same material, have disappeared,
and it is now a handsomely laid out
place, partly civic and partly military
in its make up. The territory in
which it stands was formerly claimed
by the Ogillalah Sioux, and -w hen not
on hunting excursions or the war path,
its vicinity was then''favorite campingground
; but they have been moved off
.1 4-U ^
to an agency, in aorasKa, auu mc
Laramie and Patte valleys are now
covered with numerous herds of cattle,
whose owners make the fort their
headquarters.
_ In the early day of its existence, before
the tide of emigr^ti'd '">egan to
flow westward, Fort Laramie was
frequented by some of the mosl desnorst.p
anrUrprides? character.* thai the
world ever saw. Generally they were
men who had left the States to escape
punishment for, the commission of
crime, and in that remote and little
known region, unrestrained by law,
they gave free indulgence to their
fierce and ungovernable passions. Of
course there were notable exceptions
to this class, but they were largely in
the minority. Probably the worst of
these desperadoes, whose names were
enough to chill the heart of a timid,
law-abiding person, was the notorious
Siade, whose bloody deeds and tragic
and timely death are recounted in Mark
Twain's " Roughing It." When Ilolliday
established the overland stage line
to California Slade was appointed division
superintendent over that part of
it extending from Laramie to the
Sweetwater river; and as soon as he
assumed the duties of the position he
began a career of murder, in many instances
killing a man for pastime, or,
as he expressed it, to " keep his nana
in." How many murders he committed
along the stage line from Laramie
to Sweetwater can never he known, as
shooting a man in that country in those
days was little thought of a ad was
soon forgotten,1 hut of them all, and
fViorc. h-pw nwiiv the: most, wanton and
sickening was.1 the killing of a Frenchman,
whostT^uie I cannot now
-w?S?r==2l^'^rSc5r*-'J^OT
miles, below Laramie on the
Platte river. The Frenchman had in
some way incurred the displejisure of
Slade and he sent him word that he
would shoot him on sight. A short
time afterward Slade was riding by the
ranch where the Frenchman was employed
and coming upon him suddenly
before he had time to recover from his
surprise and consternation he pinioned
his arms with a lariat and deliberately
' tied him fast to a stake of the corral
and coohy told him that in an hour he
would shoot him. through the heart.
There was no one about "the premises
at the time but a few old squaws .who,
frightened half to death, ran away and
hid.
True to his word, at the expiration
of the hour, Slade came from the house
and emptied the contents of his revolver
in the body of the unfortunate
man, and then with his bowie knife
cut oif his ears and put them in his
! pocket. This dastardly and inhuman
.i?f n-oe liie loct in thnt. f>minfrv. TliP
j <IW ?? CW UiO iiwu Aii vw v.?.. . .
friends of his victim swore to revenge
his death, and the country becoming
too hot for Slade he went to Virginia
City, where he soon fell into the hands
of the vigilance committee, which body,
without the formality of a trial, ended
his infamous career by hanging him to
a tree in the outskirts of the city.
A mile or two above the' fort, on a
dreary-looking hill near the point
where the Dead wood road crosses the
Platte, stand three gibbets where are
deposited the bodies of three Sioux Indians.
Crow, Two-Face and Flat .Foot,
who were hung in the summer of 1865
by the military authorities for horribly
maltreating two white women whom
they had captured several months previous.
The writer having assisted in
the erection of those gibbets and the
elevation of their human fruit feels
, competent to relate tliis ower' true
story, which is probably now published
for the first time. In the spring
of 1865 a small party of e.ni
grants were surprised while encamped
upon Pole creek by a band of
marauding Sioux Indians, under the
leadership of Crow and Two-Face,
subordinate chiefs of that tribe. They
fought desperately for a while but
were soon overpowered by superior
numbers, and those who were not
killed in the fight were made prisoners.
There were two women with them, a
Mrs. Morton and her sister, who were
forced to stand by and see their busVvot./Ic.
nnd TitvyHi pr< mprpilpccltr tnr.
yauuo auu v* w*4v.w vi?Vw* * w?
tured to death, they being spared for a
fate a thousand times worse. Fox
months they were dragged
through the Black Hills, made
to perforin the hardest of labor,
often terribly beaten by squaws, and
maltreated in the most fiendish manner.
The sister being in a delicate
state of health could not endure the
hardships of their situation, and finding
her unable to walk after severa]
weeks 01 captivity sue was iext iymg
upon the sands with an arrow througli
her heart. Every effort mate l>y the
soldiers to rescue the unhappy woman
proved fruitless, until one day Flat
Foot came into the fort with a message
from Crow -offering to deliver her tc
the commanding officer for a large
ransom of horses, guns and ammunition.
lie: was immediately seized and
placed in the guard-house and a detachment
of the Tenth Ohio cavalry, undei
Lieutenant Lewis, guided by a friendlj
half-breed, was sent into" the hills
in search of Crow's camp, and aftei
an absence of several davs thev re
turned, bringing with them Mrs. Morton
and Crow and Two Face, whoir
they had captured after a desperate re
sistance. The story told by Mrs. Morton
of her terrible suffering so exasperated
the soldiers that nothing bui
the death of the three fiends woulc
quiet their clamorings for revenge, s(
they were tried by a drum-head couii
martial and they were duly sentencec
to be hung. After the execution the}
were left hanging for a couple 01
months, and then their bodies wer<
. : .-"v.'.-" . .*
taken down and put in a box and fastened
on the top of the beam from
which they were suspended, where they
still remain a warning to all evil doing
redskins.
At the time of the execution of the
three Indians there was in the fort a
tall, powerful, half-demented fellow
known as Kripps the Carpenter, who,
vrlani-h /vf Vn'o hncnm friMirl
UCIUiO IliC iiccton. vx mc
brave little Billy Lorance, was one of
the quietest, best natured and best
liked men in the whole regiment.
Kripps and Billy enlisted together in the
Eleventh Ohio, and they could not have
loved each other better had they been
brothers. One morning in the spring
of 1865, while they were rambling
along the banks of the Platte a few
miles above Laramie, they were attacked
by a band of Indians who had
been concealed in the brushes. Kripps,
[ slightly wounded, escaped, but not beI
fore he saw his comrade shot down at
I T-mm flint timp hp. was a changed
man. His mind received a shock from
. which he never , recovered; he became
: r^nHrrfifiad"mdrose and-nb efforts on the:
part of his comraSfc ?ould divert his
mind from his grief for his friend.
When Crow was brought into the fort
Kripps saw and recognized him as the
leader of the party of Indians who had
killed Billy Lorance, and breaking past
! the guards he sprang upon him with
the ferocity of. a tiger, and it required
the combined strength of a half dozen
men to prevent his killing him right
there. When Crow was sentenced to
be hung Kripps asked and was granted
permission to act as executioner. He
constructed the contrivance upon which
they were to die, and watched the
guard-house almost day and night lest
I his hated enemy snouiu escape.
[ When the day of execution arrived,
and while Crow was standing
under the beam from which he was
to hang and Kripps was kneeling at
his feet riveting shackles upon his
ankles, with a powerful effort the
doomed redskin -wrenched his hands
loose, and, seizing a heavy ball which
i Tt-oo offortimr) f<-> hi? Ipc hv a*r>hain.
| ?? (to avwuuucu w iiiu ? 7
i.aimed a blow at the head of his zeal:
ous executioner which would, had it
. .struck him, certainly have crushed his
I skull, but Kripp* saw the movement
and sprang aside in time to escape the
blow, and in a twinkling was upon
him, and the bones fairly cracked as
he drew the cords around?the Indian's
wrists with all the force he
could muster. Then before the signal
was given he cut the rope that held
the beam, and laughed aloud in his
fierce delight as the murderer of his
beloved comrade swung into eternity.
POPULAR SCIENCE.
j At a recent meeting of the Anthropological
institute, London, Lord Talbot
de Malahide read a paper on the
longevity of the Romans in Xorth
Africa. The author gave several instances
of epitaphs and inscriptions on
tombs of persons whose age had exceeded
100 years; in some cases an age
of 120, 130 and even 140 years had
been attained.
Small snakes about one-twelfth of an
inch in length have been discovered in
the'proboscides of flies. It is a source
of consolation to snow that the fly,
which makes life a burden to the
1 human" victim" to which- he att5C!reshimself
this season, may perish miserably
ere the coming winter is over
through the retributive presence of a
reptile which may be even now gnawing
at his vitals."
At a recent meeting of the Royal
Horticultural society of London, Rev.
G. Henslow exhibited potato-tubers
which had. grown upon the stalks of the
plants in the axils of leaves. He also
I chnwpfl nlum leaves Derforated with
small circular holes, caused by the lens
action of raindrops which concentrated
the sun's rays and burned the leaves.
Another exhibitor, Mr. Laxton, sent
green, purple and speckled pea-pods?
the last a result of crossing the two
others.
Professor E. L. Larkin has demonstrated
mathematically that tb<- fall of
the largest comet to the sun could
only,be observed by the most powerful
telescopes and spectroscopes, while
only the most delicate heat-measuring
apparatus could detect any increase of
temperature upon the earth as an effect
; of the collision. Far from hastening
our destruction, whatever heat may
' be added to the sun by the coniinuea
fall of cometarv matter from space
must tend to prolong man's existence
upon an expiring planet whose poles
are already frozen in death.
It has been found that the presence
of silicia is not essential to plant'
growth, but that it may serve v?' 'able
I purposes is shown by the researc :s of
Wolff. After fourteen years of experiments
on the oat plant, this observer
concludes that silica aids in the ripen.
ing of grain by causing the early death
of the leaves, which is followed by a
passage of their nutritive matters to
the seeds. Thus in an experiment
without silica thirty seeds were produced;
with a little silica, ninety seeds;
with much silica, 184 seeds. Silica also
tends to prevent the absorption by
plants of superfluous quantities of essential
mineral matter, thus keeping the
soil from unnecessary exhaustion.
A River of Hot Water.
T1!-*/^Anf Ciift?A +11r-?r?nl />nf
X liu UUUiV U VUlr w A v lieve.the
celebrated Comstock mines at
' Virginia City, Xev., of the vast quanti- j
ties of hot water which is encountered
' in them, affords an outlet to 12,000,000
tons every twenty-four hours. Some
' of the water, as it finds its way into
! the mines, has a temperature of 195
degrees, while four miles from the
mouth of the tunnel the temperature
^ ranges from 130 degrees to 1*35 degrees.
To obviate the inconvenience which
; would arise from the vapor such a vast
' quantity ol water wouui give on uie
: flow is conducted through the entire tun;
nel, four miles, in a tight flume made of
| pine. At the point of exit the water has
[ lost but seven degrees of heat. Sixty
' feet below the mouth of the tunnel the
" hot water is utilized for turning machinery
belonging to the company,
11 from whence it is carried off by a tun|
j nel 1,100 feet in length, which serves
' as a waterway. Leaving the waste|
way tunnel, the water Hows to the
[ j Carson river, a mile and a half distant.
: | This hot water is being utilized for
' i manv nnrnnsfs. The bovs have ar
ranged several pools where they indulge
in hot baths. The miners and others
I use it for laundry purposes, and arrangements
are being made "whereby
1,000 acres belonging to the company
are being irrigated. It is proposed to
conduct the hot water through iron
pipes beneath the surface of the soil,
near the roots of thousands of fruit
trees which are to be planted, and in a
similar manner giving the necessary
warmth to a number of hothouses to
be used for the propagation of early
fruits and vegetables.
J I
11
^ iMAflolo nf Pnricior?
) ! OOU1& UJL LI1C XHWIWJ VA JL (Ki.A.71(UA
; dresses have absurdly long-pointed cor1;
sages and stiff, hideous paniers, which
t j more resemble the workmanship of :ui
f | upholsterer than the deft and graceful
i I handiwork of a French artist.
EEIIGIOUS RE ADEN'S,
The Iron Egg. 1
" In whom are hid all the treasures
of wisdom and knowledge." (CoL ii. 3).!
In the museum at Berlin is an iron
egg, of which the following beautiful,
story is told:
" Many years ago a prince became j
stffifi-noorJ tn a. Invfilv nrinceSS. to whom I
he promised to send a magnificent gift j
as a testimonial of his affection. In due \
time the messenger arrived, bringing j
the promised gift, which proved to be I
an iron egg. The princess was so angry [
to think that the prince should send her
so valueless a present that she threw it
upon the floor, when the iron egg
opened, disclosing a silver lining. Surprised
at such a discovery she took the
egg in her hand, and while examining
it closely discovered a secret spring,
which she touched, and the silver lining
opened, disclosed a golden yolk. .Examining
it - carefully, she found another
spring which, when opened,
disclosed within the golden yolk' a
juby crown. 'Subjecting that to' an
examination, shetouched a "spring: and
forth oame the diamond ring with
which he affianced her to himself."
So often come the richest gifts of God
to us. Their outward seeming is as
unattractive as the iron egg. But
within the seeming repulsiveness lies
hidden the silver linings of a divine
love. Within that love lies hidden the
golden treasures of the gospel. Within
that lies hidden the crown of life ("Be
thou faithful unto death, and I will
give thee a crown of righteousness.")
4 1 - 4-1>A
-Alio, wuxmi we crown mc jcntitu.
ring with which he?the bridegroom?
will affiance his bride nnto himself.?
The Watchword.
Religions News and Note?.
Bicycles are becoming very popular
with clergymen.
Pive Roman Catholic priests are attached
to the British army in Egypt.
There is a svnod of the Presbyterian
church in Spain comprising upward of
twenty churches or missions.
Rev. Thomas Harrison, " The Boy
Evangelist," participated in the services
of seven camp-meetings -this season.
The Bible is translated into thirtytwo
African languages, in eight of
which the whole of the Scriptures are
published.
The Methodist church has 25,906
1 _ Tr 4. 1_ 4-Urs
memuers ui x^eiituui^y, uxiu ww ?uctu- j
odist church, South, 64,716 members in
the same State.
Three thousand five hundred churches
have been built in the United States
during the past fifteen years, and more
than one for every day in the year during
the last twelve months.
The presbytery of the Red River of
the North, in a recent session at Moorhead,
Minnesota, decided to locate
their college at Casselton, Dakota.
Twenty acres of land at that place, or
$30,000 in cash, are promised.
The 50,009,000 of the population in
ILir u KJVOiVKykJ 11CV T V U JL AVUWUUIA*'/ '
minister for every 728 persons, and a j
Sabbath-school teacher for every fifty-!
six. One in every five is a member of
an evangelical church.
lu the decade from 1872 to 1882,
--MllTM U.IA'.I f.niit nlnn.e.'r.rt.g ?r)f|
of 4,728 members in the presbytery of
New York?"a proportion," it is said,
" nearly double the ratio of the city*5
growth during the same period."
In November a Baptist convention
is to be held in Cincinnati to try to settle
the much-vexed question as to is
suing a version of the 13ible winch
shall be distinctively Baptist in its use
of " immerse" instead of " baptize."
The Congregationalist gives the fol-:
lowing review of the Presbyterian
church in the United States for the
last year: According to statistics just
compiled, the Presbyterian church,
North, in this country, now has 5,744
churches with a total membership of
598,128; and its total benevolent contributions
the last year have been j
A A C\aC\ O C\H HPUa rntmrj f a V?ayy?a
l x lie auiuuuo tu \j\j iivuuc j
missions was $467,625; foreign, $465,-1
219. Education, church erection and
other kindred works are not included in
these home mission figures. The
Southern Presbyterian church reports
2,010 churches (with only 1,081 masters)
and 123,806 communicants. Its
contributions, reported the last year,
have been $1,130,133, of which foreign
missions liad $46,638, while nothing is
specified for home missions. The
church North received 29,389 members
on confession during the year; the
/?Vmw?Vi Srmt.T? K 062. The ehurfih Xorth
organized 182 new churches, and reports
only titty as disbanded. The
entire Presbyterian church membership
of all branches in this country is
put down at 825,000.
A Beery Victory.
A short time ago was celebrated, in
ttip tnwn nf "Rprnau. in Prussia, the !
anniversary of a famous victory won j
by the townsmen of that festive place i
in 1432. At that time the Hussites, i
under Koska, were besieging the town j
in force, and there was little hope of i
holding out against the determined j
fanatics. The siege was raised by j
means of a very curious stratagem de- j
vised by the burgomaster, who may be j
commended as having turned the
appetites of the enemy into a more!
powerful weapon against them than
any number of more deadly-looking:
arms that could have been manufac- j
tured. It seems that the liking for |
beer was then as strongly developed I
among the people of the fatherland as
now, and the difference of creed between
the attacking and the defending
armies did not imply any dissimilarity
in their taste for the national bock. |
But there was this essential difference '
between the one and the other?that i
the besiegers had brought "with them ;
no brew houses nor even any suita- j
ble caldrons for the making of their!
r? ? ! 4- ^ ^-71* v.'iw.r/ioc? nnvwl '
llliun, liiiuctw kjiv- uungi-u
were in full possession of everything j
that was required for that purpose, j
The burgomaster accordingly either;
gave orders, or at lea-'t made a sugges-j
tic.n. that every brewer in Bernau
should at once set to and brew as much j
as he could of his best ale. Into the j
vats was then introduced a sufficient
quantity of well disguised narcotic.
The casks were packed for exportation
and dispatched in a long train at night
from the gates. They were naturally:
seized by the thirsty Hussites outside
tllklL bllUl WUV\.iJiV.J iiiuuvvtii*w4
trilnited among the soldiery. The
following day saw the latter all
stretched, in a more or less insensible
condition, on the ground, and an opportune
sortie by the besieged ended in
the death or capture of most of them
and the flight of the rest. Koska was
among the fugitives who escaped, but i
his saddle, which was left behind, was i
taken ;is a trophy, and still adorns the j
town hall of llernau as one of its!
principal curiosities.?London Globe.
The conditions of success are these: |
First, work ; second, concentration ; j
third, fitness. Labor is the genius j
which changes the ugliness 01 tne
world into beauty; that turns the
i> creates curse into a blessing.
THE HOME DOCTOR.
Facts Worth Remraberln*.
Sudden deaths do not come from
heart disease, one case in twenty, but
from congestion of the lungs or brain,
or from apoplexy. More die from congestion
of the lungs than of the brain,
and more of congestion of the brain
than from apoplexy.
Sudden death from heart disease is
usually caused by rupture of some
large artery near the heart; from con-1
gestion of the lungs, by instantly stopping
the breath; from congestion of
the .brain, by causing pressure on the
brain which paralyzes and instantly
destroys life; from apoplexy, by hemorrhage
in the brain.
Heart disease most frequently results
from neglected or improperlytreated.
rheumatism. It more often
f/->n/\nrro rniM TfioiTma+.icm than t.hft se-1
vere kind, because severe rheumatism
receives prompt treatment, -while the
mild farm is often neglected and left
to work its way to the heart. : ?
Persons j?ho suppose themselves
suffering from, heart " disease because
they .have pain in the. region of the
heart; or palpitation, seldom have any
disease of that organ. In nine cases-,
out of ten they are sufferers from dyspepsia?nothing
more. Congestion of
the lun<rs is most frequently caused by
a sudden change from the heat of an
ill-ventilated room, or railroad car, or
horse car, to the cold air outside,
without being protected by sufficient
clothing; hence, many persons thus
seized drop dead in the streets.
Congestion of the brain uost frequently
results from trouble and anxiety
of mind, producing sleeplessness,
followed by the engorgement of the
small blood vessels of the brain, sudden
loss of vital power, and almost instant
death. Apoplexy may be an inherited
disease, or it may be induced
by too free living, or its opposite, too
great abstemiousness. Paralysis may
affect only a small portion of the body,
from a finger or toe to an entire limb,
or it may disable half the body, or the
whole body, when death soon follows.
When half the body is affected by paralysis,
we may be certain that the seat
of the disease is in the opposite side of
the brain, because nerve fibers cross.
Partial paralysis is often temporary
" i- ^11
when caused oy ine rupture ox a sman
blood vessel, if the clot is got rid of by
absorption or otherwise.
Although this is a disease that all
classes of people are liable to, its most
destructive work is done among the
depraved and dissipated- There is no
doubt that the habitual use of tobacco
is one of the most prominent causes of
paralysis and other nerve diseases.
A severe cold can be soonest cured
by ^remaining within doors, in a warm
room and near the fire, until all signs
of it have disappeared. Then care
should be taken to prevent a relapse
by having the feet warmly clad, and
the whole body, and particularly the
chest and back of the neck, well pro
tecieu wxieu gumg uuu
A recent cough will almost always
yield to the following treatment within*
two or three days: Mix in a bottle
four ounces of glycerine, two ounces
of alcohol, two ounces, of water, two
grains of morphine. . Shake welL
Dose for an adult, one to two teaspoonfuls
every two or three hours.
%lf this -quantity- tcr--ek?Wrea fromgive
it to. infants or children under
ten years of age.
To stop bleeding, if from a cavity in
the jaw after a tooth has been extracted,
shape a cork into the proper
form and size to cover the "bleeding
cavity, and long enough to be kept
firmlv in nlace when the mouth is
closed. This, we believe is our own
invention, and we have never known
it to fail. It has served us in desperate
cases.
"When an artery is cut, the red blood
spurts out at each pulsation. Press
the thumb firmly over the artery near
the wound, and on the side toward the
heart. Press hard enough to stop the
bleeding, and wait till a physician
comes. The wounded person is often
able to do this himself if he has the
requisite knowledge.
Simple fractures may be adjusted by
almost any one. Get the limb as nearly
as possible in the natural position, ana
then send for the doctor. There is no
great urgency in such cases.
In fracture of the skull, with compression
and loss of consciousness, examine
the wound, and, if possible, raise
the broken edges of the skull so as to
relieve the pressure on the brain.
Prompt action will often save life.
In cases of poisoning, the simple
rule is to get the poison out of the
stomach as soon as possible. Mustard
and salt act promptly as emetics, and
they are always at hand. Stir a table
* - 1 "? ? ?1 Irtf
SpOOMUJ. IJU. <t ujl rv ai/Ci, ouu iti
the person swallow it quickly. If it
does not cause vomiting in five minutes,
repeat the dose. After vomiting,
give the whites of two or three eggs,
and send for the doctor.
Burns and scalds are soonest relieved
by an application of cold water.
Di / carbonate of soda, or baking soda,
sprinkled over the burned spot, is the
latest remedy, and is said to be very effectual.
These means are only temporary.
In severe cases a physician
should be sent for.?HaWs Journal of
Health.
Peculiar Customs in Thibet.
The principal food of the country is !
called jamba. To make it a quantity
of powdered tea is cooked for several
hours, after which it is poured into a"
churn, when salt and butter are added,
and the whole is stirred until a complete
mixture Js effected. The broth is
then divided among the hungry ones,
each of whom. gets his share in a
wooden bowl,' after which a sack of
roasted barley meal is brought out.
Every one takes a handful of meal
from the sack, puts it into the tea and
mixes -the mass into a shapely lump,
and swallows his dough witb a keen
appetite. After the meal is over, the I
wooden bowls are licked clean with the
tongue and worn on the breast next to |
the skin as something precious.
Pnlvorwlrv is nr.ioticod. not On aC- !
coulit of any lack of women, for there !
is no such lack, but as a measure of
economy. VHien the oldest son marries
his wife bk^nes also the wife of all his
brothers. The custom does not lead to
so many difficulties as might be supposed
it would, and the chief trouble
arising out of it concerns the fatherhood
of the children. The housewife
occupies rather a commanding than a
subordinate n^.^n.
~ tlto /-loorl nira_
X III tfC ^ WU1UVJJL\^ UViiU
vaiL The ])t?^sink their dead in one
of the mountain streams; tliose of a better
class hang the bodies upon a tree,
where they are consumed by birds, and
the bones are afterward thrown into
the river; the rich cut the bodies up
into small pieces, pound the bones and
mix them with jamba, and then carry
the remains to the mountains, where
they are left for the birds. These are
old customs and have no connection
Daavii7/*/?
>\ itil ICllgiVUL. JL ISJJUIU,/
iy- _
" Fat Boy:" Xo, you cannot raise
chickens from egg plants. You might
as well try to raise calves from cowI
catchers. _
A Lion Tamer's Method.
A curious history, and one that shed*. Jfr
many gleams of light upon the eharao a "gSm
I ter of beasts in the menagerie, is that if
! of Henri Martin, the lion-tamer, who died,
ninety years eld. quietly^at his
home, "among his collections of but- 'qaj
terfiies and his books of botany."
Martin, according to his own letters,
began to cultivate his gift of control
over animals in the days when he was .
connected with a circus, by acquiring
an extraordinary power over horses.
From this he went^to taming wild - j|||
beasts, arid labored eight months in.
fTainiTic, a rrival tiflrftr. and taught a? - ~-ifl
spotted hyena to pick np bis gloves.
He was never seen with a whip in his hand;
but he crossed his arms, and
gave his animal the word of commaii4.^j^^|
to leap on and off his shoulders; an d he ' Wk
considered his method infinitely supenor
to that of the tamos who go ,J?g|
through their business chiefly by the '
terrorism of a heavy whip and a re- ivolver.
One day Martin told his Wife
'that he anticipated trouble with his
-IIOil, uooourg, WUO YV? mcu ux c*
dangerous state of excitement.
do it .once/1 shoiM hare to do il^very
time the animals have caprices." The
next night his forebodings were fulfilled.
Instead of performing his part'
properly, Cobourg crouched low ancf
dug his talons into the stage, and his
eyes flared- Martin had no weaponi
at command except a dagger in his
belt. Instead of obeying orders, the
lion leaped at Martin, and a combat ;#?j
occurred, in the course of which the
lion toot JMartin in nis mourn aaa :
shook him in the air. Martin struck ~Jm
the animal over the nose for a second ^
time, and then, feeling his strength '-'M
exhausted, gave himself up for lost,
and turned his back to the beast, so' -H*
that at the next spring it might attack' .
the back of his neck, and so " make an ";^g|
end of the business. But two seconds
passed, two seconds that seemed to me - /jaS
an eternity. I turned around; tha .
lion's mood had changed. He looked
at the audience, he looked at me. I
gave him the sign to go. He went / \f||
away as if nothing had happened." It
was fourteen week before Martin couia ... 33a
perform again, but then the lion . M|g
worked well as usual, and continued to'
do so for years without any more car ^
prices. In taming one of his tigers '
Martin began by taking the brute's attention
off the door of the cage, and hi
then armed with a dagger, went - rapidly
into the cage and stood looking at
the tiger, which for some minutes lay ^
Trmf mnlftas. staring at him Then, feel
ing a shiver, and knowing that if the /:M
tiger saw it all would be over with :.|
him, he went swiftly out At the end'
of a fortnight he went again into the "
cage, and this time stayed there half
an hour. A third time he
paid the tiger a visit of three
quarters of an hour. " The fourth.
time the tiger, trembling at first, lay
down before the pygmy who braved
it." To tame a hyena, Martin wrap
ped liis legs ana arms witn corus, <uiu . ;^
protected his'head with handkerchiefs,
and then, walking into the cage, went
straight to the animal and offered it
his fore-arm. The hyena bit it, and ||?
the tamer, looking steadily in its eyes,
stood motionless. The next day he re-,
peated the experiment, substituting a
Qirtti0 Martlii'a
ljlulX" warfe?
th& orpar av<>s of the hvena. The beast -'^cSS
gave up, pringed, and smelled the feet
of the master." Martin tamed his subjects
by his personal influence alone;
and Charles Xodier once said of him:
" At the head of an army Martin might - ^
have been a Bonaparte. Chance, has ;vl
made a man of genius a director of a
menagerie."
ill About Food,
About an equal amount of nourish- * ' "\||
ment is to be derived from:
Eight ounces of lean beef and one .
pound of red-blooded fish.
Ten ounces of dried lentils and one
pound ten ounces of white-blooded
fish. - j
Eleven ounces of peas and beans
and one pound thirteen ounces of
buckwheat. .
m Ann/wi n-P /wuwio.nihg ond
xyvcivc uuuv*? uj. wws^iiiw
two pounds of white bread.
Fourteen ounces of [tea and two ?
pounds six ounces of rice.
Fifteen-ounces of oatmeal and five
pounds three ounces of cabbage.
One pound one ounce of wheat flour >;
and five pounds three ounces of onions.
One pound one ounce of coffee and
seven pounds thirteen ounces of par^ ' ??
snips. . ' <^j|S
One po7"nd two ounces of rye meal 1
and eight pounds fifteen ounces o?
turnips. " *
One pound three ounces of barley
? canrc*r* rtf
lilCcU <%UU. bcu jwumn gvibu ^ . VJ.
potatoes.
One pound five ounces of Indian
meal and fifteen pounds ten ounces - . -A
of carrots.
It will be seen from this table that
onions and cabbages are far more
valuable foods than potatoes; but
like bread, potatoes seldom satiate or
weary the appetite, and therefore, %
like bread, they are considered a staple
food.?Jvliet Corson.
Ostrich Farming in the United States.
Some time since Consul Baker, of
Buenos Ayres, ventured the statement
that ostrich farming could be made
very profitable in the Southern and
Pacific Coast States. Since then Mr. ra
Baker has received a number of letters
asking for further information. In
stead of answering them separately he
has put them together in a second
communication on the subject. He
says he does not think it would be
possible to send ostrich eggs so as to " -'-1
arrive in this country in good condition.
The only safe way, he says, is
to procure the birds, which are best
shipped when about four years old.
The product of each bird is annually
about $60, though the feathers of . ?
some have sold as high as $150. Mr.
Baker thinks the birds would each pro- -pj
duce $120 worth of feathers annually .
in the Southern States. An ostrich H
two years old costs about $375. Delivered
at Baltimore, breeders can be, ^
had for $1,750 per pair. For four-t .
year-old birds, which may be expected} ^
shortly to breed, the price will be' /_
$1,200 per pair and for two-year-olds, 5
nor rialr. A nair of breeders will ~
v - ~ l? tr ? i- ?
rear sixtv chicks annually.?Baltimore* ?
I Sun.
The Biggest Tree..
Victoria, British Australia, now
| claims the glory of holding the biggest v '"^;
I of all the living "big trees" in the
; world, so far as height is concerned In
j the Dandenong district, at Fenashaw, >"
; has recently been discovered a specie
' men of Eucalyptus amygdalina, or alj
mond-leaf gum, which reaches th?
j enormous height of three hundred and
: eighty feet before throwing out a single |a
i branch, and is four hundred and
; thirty feet to the wp, caving 4 ^
! girth of . sixty feet at some "Jg
| distance above the ground. Somt -|?9
; idea of what a height of four hundrec
j and thirty feet represents may tx
j gained from the fact that this gum
; tree, growing by the side of Trinity --^jSE
church, the highest church edifice is .
New York, would overtop the spire b<
' exactly one hundred and forty-six feefc

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