Newspaper Page Text
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., JULY 10, 1879. VOL. III.-NO. 69.
CALLING THE ANGELS IN. t
We mean to do it. Some day, some day, g
We mean to slacken this fevered rus 01
That is wearing our very souls away.
And grant to our goaded hearts a hush l3
- That is holy enough to let them bear
The footsteps of angels drawing near.
We mean to do it. Oh, never doubt,
When the burden of daytime droll is o'er,. li
We'll sit and muse, while the stars come out, e
As the patriarch sat at the open door r
Of his tent, with a heavenward gazing eye,
To watch for the angels passing by. ti
We see them afar at high noontide,
When fiercely the world's hot ilahinge beat; t
Yet never have bidden'them turn aside, a
And tarry awbile in converse sweet ; a
N )r prayed them to hallow the cheer we spread, 0
To drink of our wine and break our broad.
We promised our hearts that when the stress
Of the life-work reaches the longed-for close, i
When the weight that we groan with hinders a1
We'll loosen our thoughts to such repose w
As banishes care's disturbing din,
And thon-we'll call the angels in. li
The day that we dreamed of comes at length, lc
When t red of every meoking quest,
And broken in spirit and shorn of strength, 1I
We drop, nleed, at the door of rest, ti
And wait and watch as the day wanes on ; . ,
but the angels we mean to call are gone I V
Behind the Scenes. r
"Such a bargain, aunt Fanny I Lay a
aside your work and express your admira
lion. Half-a-dozen of these pretty linen h
collars for one dollar. So nicely scolloped c
and stitched ; just the thing for the morn- a
iug, are they not ?" C
"Exactly, Julia. They are a very de
sirable addition to your bridal wardrobe. r<
But I cannot but regret that they are not
higher priced." c
"Why, aunt Fanny I you astonish me. I c
had no idea that you were one of those la- h
dies who think nothing worth having tuin
less it cost an extravagant price." p
"And you are mueli in error if you think
now, Julia. But in looking at your S
cheap collars my sympathy is called forth a
for the poor seamstress, whose weary fin- n
gers performed the task which was to pro- %
cure her a wretched subsistence."
"0, it is all very true, aunt Fanny ; and hI
I am sure I pity the poor as much as any p
one but as long as this evil exists I may as to
well reap the benefit of it. You know that a
it is an ill wind that blows nobody. good." n
Aunt Fanny shook her head gravely as w
she replied : a
"You speak lightly, Julia. May you s
never have reason to know the suffering e
which springs from this want of union of
the interests of the employer and employed. IV
But enough of this. Let us speak of your h
approaching marriage. 'Tell mc; when the tn
wedding is to take place, and all about it." e
"In two short weeks. I am to he mar- al
rled at my guardian's, of course. You g
know lie does not quite approve of the mar- h
riage ; or, at least, he would prefer that we II
should wait until Henry is established in ko
business ; but I have coaxed him into good ft
humor. You know lie might as well sub- t
mit with a good grace, for I shall be eigh- h
teen on my wedding day, and my little w
property comes into my own hands. 80 to
we shall begin life in the style which we in
tend to keep up. A handsome house, well fc
furnished, and in a pleasant part of the city. ft
You shake your head, but you will see that
it will all end well. And now say-will' b
you grant the earnest request of Henry and v
myself, and make your, future home with ti
us ? I shall need an adviser, and you shall n
be my second mother."
"My dear child I your kindness - brings at
the tears to my eyes. But 1 cannot accept fe
your invitation-at least, not at present. A
few days ago I received an urgent request
from an aged relative in England to conme J
to her and be her companion and friend for
the remainder of her life. She is wealthy, fa
but lonely in her riches, and being nearly SI
blind, is much dependent upon the kmnd- sj
ness of those aromund her. At present therep
are none but servants to adinister to her
wants. She was the sister of my own dlear hi
mother, and I feel it to be my duty to go to y
her and do what I can for her comfort. I n
sail in the next steamer." d
"Beforeothe wedding I Why, aunt Fanny, h
-yoni will not leave us so soon ?"h
"My prayers will 1)e with you andl yours, o
dlear Julia, hut It is necessary that I hasten
my departure as much as possible. Do not a'
forget your old friend, and In the midst of a
your happiness sometimes remember the c
works of advice which she has so often
spoken." ' n
With many tears the young maiden b)ade ?
adieua to one who, though in reality no rela- a
tive, had' long been a valued friend.
Julia Howard had become an orphan in a
arychildhood. Her father's dying chprge tl
placed her under the care of one who in sg
. any respects was wvorthiy of the trust, and sl
had well performed the duty which de- k(
yojved upon him
At' seventeen sheo became attached to
I-enry Lawrence, a young man of good si
family and unblemished chiaracter. t
oir guardian heartily a pproved the con- si
neotlos, but, na Julia stated to aunt Fanny,
.prefebited that the young oouple should wait u1
until Henry was established in business, but ti
this pi'udent advice was not followed, a
i(enry's prospects were good-Julia had b
*a fewthiousands. Why not begin the world
at one? .
'8o on the very day, when by a pecullar p~
coiciene,the bridegroom was twenty
o and the bride eighteen they stood at
dellghtful, and thq future bore the rainb,ow n
1 Arpd ere the dark clouds of ad- n
va. ered around themn, but ala Io
the id i~ r and the bright sunlight fA
dad ay mt scarcely one beam found its y
Wa~ptho~ onq hppy hearts.
wo4iIpaa Q~rtli'train of misfortunes I
whieh Im 19a Inth rgdaced the' young $
c6~19~m1t.to(rtw ohu1(dien, to absolute y
'~~su,uuuce in' their style of iving, fal-'
ture irbu~osong and severe illness, wero
zi' e1foo~tre o?to thef
sh ~fl~tq~ , Juia as .i11 h
jiot4 be fgtno eon.
ientioned some lays ago ?" she suddenly
3ked, as her husband rose from their fru
nl meal, one cold morning in the early p'art
"None at all," was the -reply. "The
resent clerk has decided to remain. But
ven my present situation is better than
r)t.hing. Three hundred will keep us from
"It were better to die, Henry, than to
ve in this way. Life has lost all its
Imrms for me, and I would gladly be at
"But our children, Julia. Think of
iem and keep up your courage a little
mnger. The day may yet dawn upon us."
"Never, never. My own folly has brought
i1s upon me. My guardian warned me
ainst marrying one not well established In
te world, but I slighted his advice. Thank
od, he is not here to see .how bitterly I
wve lived to repent my rashness."
"And do you really regret it, Julia ? We
ay regret the imprudence in our former
;yle of living, and we may sorrow for the
ilafortunes which have come upon us, but
,e need not repent ui uur marriage."
"Was not that the cause of It all ?" was
eo bitter reply.
Deeply grieved, the husband turned and
ft. the house.
The day was a sad one-and when an
rmr or two before the v,tall time for his re
urn, Henry was borii :nto the house by
vo men, and the unhappy little fa:mi1'
,ere told that an accidental fall upon the
e had resulted in a broken leg, the last
rop seemed to have been added to the al
Lady brimming cup.
From the night of agony which followed,
tllla was a different, and in some respects,
Hitherto there had been a lingering feel
ig of pride which bad prevented her from
ming forward at her husband's side to
ruggle against the misfortunes which had
nme upon them. She had shrank back de
>aring and powerless. Now she was
mused into energy.
Something must be done, and with the
)naciousness of what devolved upon her,
ine an earnest prayer for strength-a look
ig upward which was not her wont.
Nothing presented itself to her mind but
lain sewing, and this she was well aware
'ould afford them but a miserable pittance.
Lill It would be better than nothing, an
?plication was at once made to a kind
Lighbor, and through her 4ifluence work
as speedily obtained.
Often when her employers would urge
or to abate a few pennies on the usual
rice, and assure her that it was for her in
rest to work cheap, she would sigh deeply
she remembered her own feelings In for
er days, and the truth of aunt Fanny's
'or(ds forced itself upon her mind. The
ifferings proceeding from the want of tm
mn of the interests of the employer and the
nployed were now her own.
And where was aunt Fanny during this
ipse of years? Faithfully and unwearledly
id she performed the duties which she had
iken upon herself. That task was now
i(led. That aged relative, to whose wants
te had so long ministered, had at length
me home. Once morq aunt Fanny's
art turned to her native land. Friends of
er earlier years rose before her, and she
nged to meet them again face to face. The
w necessary arrangements were soon
ade, and ere many weeks had passed she
id once more crossed the broad ocean, and
as welcomed with kindly greetings by
any whom she had known and loved.
One of her first -inquiries was for Julia,
ir it was very long since she had heard
News of the failure of Mr. Lawrence in
asiness had reached her, and rumors of
arlous undefined misfortunes had from
me to thne came to her knowlege, but
At one word of direct information. The
other of Julia had been'a very dear friend,
id aunt Fanny felt a yearning tenderness
r her child.
So she sought out and called at 1her home.
That day had been a discouraging one for
alia, even more so than usual.
A little exertion had brought on Henry's
iver again, and the physician who was
immoned to attend him had spokeni in
rong terms of the absolute necessity for
erfect rest and freedom from excitement.
H-ow was this possible when hour after
sur lie must lie upon his back and see his
Ife toiling beyond her strength for their
aintenance ? And then It was sometimes
flcult to procure work, and Julia abso
~tely trembled as she thought of the suffer
ge they must undergo should this means
support be cut off..
Some kind neighbor had advised her to
>nphy at a collar manufactory near by,
here many women and young girls found
She had done so with success, and at the
oment that her old1 friend entered she was
zing mournfully upon a dozen collars
hich she had taken upon trial. They
ero nicely stitched by a sewing machine,
id she had engaged to bind themi and make
ree button holes in each for the small
im of one cent apiece. "A starving price,"
ie murmured to herself, and then seemed
at in a sad reverie, from which she was
oused by the soft voice of aunt Fanny.
Julia looked up in surprise, but in an in
ant her wonder was titrned into joy, and
vining her arms around aunt Fanny's neok
10 sobbed like a little child.
Composure was at length restored, and
len there was so muoh to toll and to be
>ld that the good lady took oit her bonnet
nid said she should make herself quite at
ime, and pass the evening with them.
"You cannot be at home hero," said
ulla, "because it is not nrotty enodgh for
But to this aunt Fanny answered :
"Home is wherever we find those we
ive. It matters little In what place we
nd 4hem.' So this Is my home for tihe
reniig, anid now, Julia, as your husband
ee atteniton, just give me your work
ad I will sew' ter. you. My thimble is in
ypocket as usual. You see I retain my
"Yout are siithisanet iJaun anny,"~
as the reply. -
"5'lere Is iny work-to bind thiae collars.
me'you remember our conversatfort tho day
at I purcha.sed those cheap collars' Ever'y
ord of it is fresh in my mInid I p er
ioughitles tl eA--bt 0aunt Fanny,
ave rio* had jee beind thio s'oene.
"Youj hauve, fnde, mpy poor child ;
ow to your hualiand, .and wheon lie Is corn
rtably arranged we will site together by
is bedside and have a quiet ?1ai.7'
'lTo atnts of year8 i's soon 1talksa;
rer an~ ere aunt-Fanny rose to, bid ttion
aclih sbO said:.
yeIj o deYour tormfneruCItm i~and
soodine #4 inIte of yout ftimiy."
'UO tiant Muand eablai Ju.ia1 "'trt
have no longer a home to offer you. This
is the hardest trial of all."
"Listen, my child. I am becoming in
firm, and shall soon need the care which I
have bestowed upon others. There are none
who seem nearer to me than yourself. My
means are ample, for my generous relative
has added largely to my little fortune. We
will look for a suitable dwelling, and you
will be to me as affectionate children."
Tears were her only answer, but these
were sufllicient to speak the feelings of the
In after years neither party had cause to
regret this arrangement.
Closer Intimacy only served to endear
them still more to one another.
In the midst of her happiness Julia forgot
not the use of ailliction, and would often
feelingly refer to her peep behind the
The Charmers of iindoostan.
Many of these Iindoo jugglers who live
in the silence of the pagodas perform feats
far surpassing the prest:digitations of Rob
ert IHoudin, and there are somany others who
produce the most curious phenomena in
magnetism and catalepsy upon the fine ob
jects that camne across their way, that I
have often wondered whether the brahmins
with their occult science have not made
great discoveries in the questions which
have recently been agitated in Europe.
On one occasion while I and others were
in a cafe with Sir Maswell, he ordered his
dobochy to initroduce the charmer. In a
few moments a lean Iindoo, almost naked,
with an ascetic face and bronzed color, en
tered. Around his neck, arms, legs and
body, were coiled serpents of different sizes.
And saluting us, he said :
"God be with you, I am Cibb Chonder,
son of Chinh-Gontnualp-Mlfave."
"We desire to see what you can (o,"
said our host.
"I obey the orders of Siva. who sent me
here," replied the fakir, squatting down
upon one of the marble slabs.
The serpents raised their heads and hissed,
but without showing any anger. 'i'hen
taking a small pipe, attached to a wick in
his hair, he produced scarcely audible
sounds imitating the tailspeca, a bird that
feeds upon bruised cocoanuts. Here tht
serpents uncoiled themselves, and one after
another glided to the floor. As soon as
they touched the ground they raised about
one-third of their bodies, and began to keep
time to their master's music.- Suddenly the
fakir dropped his instrument and made sev
eral passes with his hands over the serpents,
of whom there were about ten, all of the
most deadly cobra species of India. his
eye assumed a strange expression. We felt.
an undefinable uneasiness, and sought to
turn away our gaze from him. At. this
moment a shoera, whose business was to
hand fire in a small brazier for lighting
yielded to his influence, lay down and fell
asleep. Five minutes passed thus, and we
felt that if the manipulations were to con
tinue a few seconds more we should all fall
asleep. Chondor then rose and making
two more passes over the shocra, said to it:
"Give the commander some fire."
The - young servant rose, and, without
tottering, came and offered lire to its inns
ter. le was pinched and pulled about, till
there was no doubt of his being actually
asleep. Nor would he move from Sir Mas
well's side till ordered to do so by the fakir.
We then examined the cobras. Para
lyzed by magnetic influence, they lay at
full length upon the ground. On taking
them up we found them as stiff as sticks.
They were in a state of complete catalepsy.
They fakir awakened them and they re
turned and coiled themselves round his body.
On asking if he could make us feel his in
fluence, he made a few passes over our Legs.
and instantly we lost the use of them ; we
could not leave our seats. He then released
uts as easily as he had paralyzed us. Chibb
Chiandor closed his seance by experimenting
upon inanimate objects. By miere p)asses
with his hands In the direction of the object
to be acted upan, and, without leaving his
seat, lhe paled and extinguished lights in the
farthest parts of the room, moved the furni
ture, Including divaSnA upon which we sat,
opened and closed doors. Catching sight
of a Hindoo who was drawing water from a
well in the garden, he made a pass in his
direction, and the rope suddenly stopped in
its descent,' resisting all the efforts of the
astonished gardoiner. With another pass
the rope again d 'scended.
"Do you employ the same means in act
ing upon Inanimate objects that you do up
on livIng things ?" I asked.
"I have only one m~eans," lie replied.
"What is It ?"
"Thme will. Man, who is the result of all
Intellectual and material forces, nust om
mante over all. The Brahmuins know nioth
ing beside this."'
A Desperate Situation.
Two young French half-breeds, one
named Pierre Laverdure, and another
whose name was not asertained, were out
on a hunting and trapping expedition in the
vicinity of Milk river during March Iast,
One night, whuile camped a little to the
southi of the boumdary line, they were
aroused by the apparent - howling of the
wolves in osoe proximity to their tent.
Being pretty.well used to such msic, they
did not pay any particular attention to it,
until a poouliarity in the sound gave them
the impression that the noise proceeded
from Indians instead of wolves. They
started up and ran outsIde the tent and
were immediately met by a fusllade from
different points. Laverdure was struck by
two shots, one passing through the upper
part of both thighs, and one through both
legs, fortunately without breaking any
bones. He dropped, and called out to the
Sioux that they wore half-breeds and not
Indians. Thle Sioux replied that they knew
very well what they were, and were going
to kill them. Laverdure's comrade mean
whIlu-hadinade irns. and -o asways and
the wounded man was left b)imnself with
a gang of redskins around hijf However,
he determined to sell his Ii to thme best ad
vantago, and reaching or lisa ateen
shooter, he crawled to viole in the glmud
and awaited events, au1fd as an Indian made
his appetaranceehe shot hinm. Tlie Siouz
flnding It tq hbt for.thena, decamped, and
the poor keijow' lay tIlt the. followin day,
when his~ eo zte returned with ass tanie.
They foun&tree Sioux dead, and the. trih
pf a fourth badly wounded, and the -whole
,ngbod off, IaveVdure has quite; te4
iqredfroJm his wounds and the lemsoni
~bered Sieng feur t siey
ha% ed ob ttilo prepeh
hale. '2Wf ihhem fter their awry
The Mysterious Situdow.
A curious thing happened in thi
year 1059, at Crossen, in 3iesIa, of al
apothecary's servant. The chic
magistrate of - that town at that tin
was the Princess Elizabeth Charlutte
a )ersont famous in her generatior.. I1
the spring of the year, one C""ristophe
Monigh, a natiye of Serbest, a town be
longing to the Princess of Anhalt, ser
vant to anl apothecary, died and wa
burled with the usual ceremonies of thi
Lutheran church. A few days afte
his decease, a shape exactly like his i
face, clothes, stature, miein, etc., ap
peared in the apothecary's shop, wher
he would set himself down, and wall
sonietitmes, and takc the boxes, pots anti
glasses o11 the shelves, and set then
again in their places, anid sometime
try and examine the goodness of tin
medicines, weigh them in a pair o
scales, pound the drugs with a might
noise in a mortar-nay serve the peo
ple that came with their bills to tin
shop, take their money, mid lay it it
safb t the counter in a word, do al
things that a journeymai in such casci
used to do. He looked very ghastl3
upon those that had been his fellow,
servants, who were afraid to say any,
thing to him, and his master beinj
sick at that time of the gout, he wai
often very troublesome to him, woulc
take the bills that were brought hin:
out of his hand, snatch away the can
die sometimes, and put it behind th(
stove. At last he took a cloak tha
hung in the shop, put it on and walkec
abroad; but minding nobody in tin
streets, went along, entered into somc
of the citizens' houses, and thrust him
self into company, especially of sucl
as he had formerly known, yet salutet
nobody, nor spoke to any one but to i
mald-servant, whom he met hard by
the church-yard, and desired to g<
home t.o Piis nister's house, and dig i
a ground chamber, where she woult
find inestiniable treasure ; but the malt
amazed at the sight of him, swooned
whereupon lie 'lifted her up, but lef
such a mark upon her flesh with lifting
her, that it was to be seen for some
time after. The maid having recoveret
herself, went home, but fell dcsperateli
sick upon it, and in eir iliness discov.
ered what Mlonigh had said to her, am
accordingly they digged in the place
lie had named, but found nothing bul
an old decayed pot,\with a hnnatitiea
or bloodstone in it. u-T'he Princes:
caused the body to' be digged up an
burned with the olothios, etc., and thin
mysterious shade was thus exorcised
It was supposed that he had poisonec
many people with his master's drugs.
Heat and Light in the Sick toom.
Each person in a room should be sup
plied with 3000 cubic feet of air pot
hour; and this should be done, wher
possible, without creating a percepti
ble draught, for the nervous irritatior
induced by draughts is liable to' pro
duce internal inflamations. The tem
perature of the sick room should bi
kept at a uniform height, the bes
average being from sixty-five to seven.
ty degrees Fahrenheit, except for in
fants or very old people, who requir<
a templerature from seventy-five t<
eighty degrees Fahrenheit; and foi
those it is especiatly important to guar<
against changes, anid keep it as uiiiforn
as6 possible. All cases of fever require
a temtperature lower than the average
as from fifty to sixty degrees Fahron
heit, to assist in -redlucing the high teml
perature of the body; but whelin the
fever subsides, and there is much do
bil ity remai ning, the temperatu rt
should be raised somewhat above th(
average. As a p)atient can bear
greater degree of 00o(1 when in bed that
when.out of it, e lescents 'fron
severe disease, to cially, shoub
have the temperature of their room:
higher than that maintained during ti
height of thei attack. Diseises of the
air passages, as croup aid diphtheria
require a high temperature (eighty t<
eighty-five degrees Fiuhrenhelit) and
moist atmosphere. Thle best rnethoi
for heating the sick room is by the
open grate fire. The room should no
be darkened by blinds, except wher<
there is disease of the eyes,with photo
phoble, or wvhen the patient is vera
restless and cannot sleep then stronj
light must be excluded. Othierwise
the6 sun-light mutst be allowed to onto:
and act chemically by decomposing thi
noxious gases, -and thus purify the air
Of course it is not advisible to placn
tihe patient under a stronig uncomfort
able glare of sunlight, hor- in summie
to allow the sunt's rays to shine into th<
i'oom sand raise the teraperature tot
high, Artifieial light has no utsein
ea'dct1 but does harm by burning ip ox
To thinkd the more a man ieAts the fatte
and stronger h'e will becomeu v
To believe that the more huour childrei
study the faster they will learn.
To conclude that if exercise is good, th
more violent. it -is, the more go6d is done.
To ima*lno that eoer houir staken froll
slep 8 a hurgained. -~'
To t on thme p resumption that the small
eat room in. the house las? large ewieugh t
T,o argue, tha$ whiatever remedy .cause
olie ti'feelifhtnediately'betterf(Iu?6o, Ic
the systergl wtithout regatd tola ti161-i of
To eat withoQi An ~pj*t 6to c6eft i
ii dw 4'Aptfttheflssi
Wide uttbt i elA
The Boy who was not Kkinapped.
'This is all about a boy. Several days ago
ian item appeared in the State Pess to the
' effect that in Westport a youth named
Jackson had been kidnapped. Ile was last
seen talking on the road to two strange men
in a buggy. Search was made for him, but
without avail. lowever, lie was not kid
r napped. Master Jackson lived with two
- aunts in West port, where he went to school.
Ils parents live in Philadelphia. When
school closed he was promised the vacation
with his parents, but for some reason the
promise was not fultilled. So Master Jack
son started off on his own hook. The fam
ily have friends in Washington. Knowing
Washington to be somewhere near P1hiladel
phia, and Congress having adjourned, he
determined to visit the Capital, and then
suddenly surprised the family in Philadel
phia. lie had no money, but he had an
iron bolt, safely secured in his pocket. This
he was going to sell and with the proceeds
take the cars for Washington. Fearing that
he would create susp i(i by attempting to
dispose of his property iII Westport, he
walked to Norwalk, a distance of four or
live miles. On reaching Norwalk he had
solved a much better plan for raising funds
tihan disposing of the bolt. lie would catch
fish and sell them: IIe might run short of
money where there was no fish to catch,
and then the bolt would come handy. But
he had no fish-hook. lie had a line, how
ever, and also a bit of brass chain. In Nor
walk he met a boy and succeeded in dis
posing of the chain to him for a nennv.
With the penny he bought-a hook, and at
tached it to the line, and went to the water.
He had heard that flesh frozen was safely
carried to Europe, where it found a good
market, but having no ice-chest he con
cluded to just catch enough fish for the
local market. Ile fished three hours in the
I broiling sui, and caught but. one fish about
three inche., in length. This discouraged
him. It was ge'ting toward night, and lie
was very hungry. He went to the railway
station and loitered about till night-fall, de
termined, under thecoverof darkness; tose
cure a ride on the cars. Twice lie got. seat
ed on the platform of a car but the noise of
of starting made him so nervous that he
jumped off. Late in the evening he asked
a man to tell him the way to Westport. lie
was hungry and frightened, and unmanned
generally. The stranger took him in for
the night, and the next, morning directed
him on the road home. Near noon he
reached a point where he could look down
upon the beautiful Village. It was a lovely
scene. The bells were ringing, and the vil
lagers were gathered in holiday costumes.
They had been out all night scouring the
woods, and all the morning -dragging the
Naugatuck river. Now the hells were call
ing them to a more thorough search. It
was a beautiful sight. To the boy with the
iron bolt In his pocket it must have been
very affecting indeed.
Now is the season when the druggist
hangs a doz(n sheets of sticky fly-paper in
the windows to show the folly of investitg
in mosquito-bars. The said sheets are cov
cred with flies, dead and (lying, sometimes
artistically arranged and so)metiies dropped
on in a reckless though captivating manner.
There is no sham about this paper. It will
catch any fly who takes a sheet of It for a
skating-park, and It will hold him long en
- ough for you to run to the wood-pile and
bring the axe and knock him in the head.
. The only trouble is to work up the fly. le
sometines knows his business, and you can't
beat it into his noddle that a sheet of this
)paper represents a cool and grassy valley in
to which lie is privileged to meander in
search ot lumps of white sugar. le will
- sit on the edge of the 'window-sill-and won
der and think, and kick out his legs in the
sunishine, and if you think lie hits got so
hard up that he mtust comle down to miolas
ses anmd pulp, you keep right on trying.
V'isionts of the thoustands of flies capturted at
the drug store "since Monday noon" will
rise upi before you, but only to matke you
,tmore dlown-hearted. If you spread out teni
.sheets ont the chairs and table anid floor, you
runa more chances of catchinig a fly than
with one. Any arithmetic wvill tell you
this. It, mtay be an hour or two before sonme
reckless old reprobate of a fly will start out
to see what you have beetn doin1g. Batck im
a corner and dlon't breathe while lie is muak
inlg for the table, He may light dlowni.
Flies have thieir tire'd momteats the same as
1three-year old steers. Hie will slide to the
east--then north by east-then southeast
then wheel to the west and 1)0k around to
see if anybody has a broom trainedl otn him.
G)ive hun time. If the molasses is up to
-hlis-gradle you will. catch hihn sooner or.
latear. When he fialy slides up to
Sthe paper you can bet you've got
hin. Takinig hold of the tale with lis
Ilegs lie will reacht his head out, nibble a
little, smack lis lips, and then make a dive
for the centre of the sheets, calculating to
Sfly off with It to the knot-hole in the coiling.
.If you have tacked'the sheet down you've
g ot a fly. I~f you haven't away goes a cent.
Yoiu may eatch a second fly before the sunn
mer Is gone, butt if you are impatient and
want to mak'e a show you muist ordler your
dead flies by the box from New York,
spread out your paper In a quiet p)lace, and
put 'enm on with the muachinet usedl by all re
- Another Vetry Remtiarkablo Wotman.
We were sitting upon a fence in thme coun
try, talking about the depression of trade,
Iwhen a pheasant swept past us a little dis
tatnce above our heads.
"That,". said Woodruff, p'inting to the
*bird, "reminds me of Mrs. McGann."
"I' don't understand you," I said.
"You didn't know Mrs McGann 1" hie
r asked. "No I Well, she lived over in our
town,:and one day her husband, the great
' patent man, wl,o bad an inventive turn, got
uip'what he called "'he McGanri Patent In
a fiated Adjustment.'"
- hgso titat.it would distenmd the dress
) to Riay desiraible extent. 8 o the'first one lhe
made he utsed: as an experiment upon Mrs.
S McGanun. 8ihe placed it tinder -her dross
r and stood ont in theo yardn.wil 500 nn
i connpeted,the adjusatmentwitlhe gasspupe,
b'means of.a flexible tube. Fort while it,
I t1aeemed .to ,promnise -,-tbu'. dont
1 k6*Ylidtit , ~ On used
lb i u of idde Mrs. MotfVIej
2 bli h r. Aashe' rose ~git f ind
S etfuir ,ud dshe ha~d tWtl y
r ''etOsant t# oden atpat h ,ij6tO
.btd, atid to h1atrc*thIata%.I- p4
mixing the pudding, before she was above
the snow-line I"
''Did shte come down again ?"
"Well, I was going to tell you. You
know she floated round in the tpper atinos
phere for awhile, looking tit thunder storms,
and the aurora borealis, and the 'zone belt,
and so on, and probably having a pretty
good time, although she was badly fright
ened, and felt the want of her shawl and
her eye-glasses. So she drifted about, you
understandl, being shot at now and then by
men who mistook her for a new variety of
eagle, or something of that kind. She
gratually descended after awhile, and she
was alarmed, In passing over the town,
lest a man who shot at her, under the im
pression that she was an ostrich, should
perforate the adjustment, and bring her
down in at Condition of collapse."
"How did she got down ?"
"I'm coming to that. You see she was
being tossed about by the vaaious currents
of air, but going rather cjuietly, when all at
once a tornado or somethimg came along and
sliammed her with frightful force against
the Presbyterian church steeple----"
"''ho Presbyterian church ?"
"Yes, the Presbyterian steeple. And as
she lilt it, you know, the point of the I
weather-vane pierced the adjustment and
let all the gas out. So there she hung sus
pended. When the wind veered she would I
swing round first in one direction, and then
in another, her parasol pointing east or west,
or north or south, just its the breeze hap
pened to blow. It was genorally allowed
that she made a very handsome we:' t her
vane, for she was a good-looking woman ;
and as for the sexton of the church, he was
in favor of leaving her there its an orna
"But she got down, of course ?"
"I was just going to tell you. She stayed
there all night, while McGann rigged up a i
balloon to go up after her, but the balloon I
exploded about half waty up, leaving Mc
Gann clinging to the tiles of the spire. ''he
impre"sion seemed to be that the trustees
word simply let the McGanns alone the
whole family would eventually lie found
roosting about on that church steeple."
"But how did they get her down ?"
"Why, I was just going to say that AIc I
Gann had another adjustment at home. So 1
he sent a boy for it, had it inflated, tied a
rope to it, and sent it up, so that it drifted<
over to Mrs . McGann. She arranged It, I
and then they hauled in on the rope, and,
its she descended, McGann clasped her 1
waist with his arm, and t,hey cane down I
with a rush."
"Wits she hurt ?"
"No ; but McGann was."
"Why, as soon as he touched ground she
seized his hair, and shook hin round so he
didn't know whether lie was in Peterbor
ough or Peru. Then they went home, and
she burned up all the patents in the house."
"Is that a true story, Woodruff 1"
"Sure thing I Come round with me, and
I'll show you the very steeple she collapsed
"But, still, I have my doubte about it.."
Gambet.tii in his Now EHome.
While the Speaker of the Chamber was
making an excursion to Italy and Switzer
land, the Petit Bourbon was freshly' fitted f
up by the official upholsterers. The green 1
brocade silk in the ante-rooms, the tone of
which was crude and and out of fashion,
has been replaced on setees and armchairs
by stamped velvet of a maroon shade.
The blue drawing room, near the Secreta
ry's ofllce, in which the Duo de Moray used
to receive ladies, has been restored, and is
inl exactly the same state in which it was
sixteen years ago. New carpets, manufac
tured at Aubusson, have been laid down In
time long suite of reception rooms ona tIhe
ground floor, which are furnished in thme
Louis Quartorze style in gilt furniture, tip
holstered with crimisona Lyons brocade.
The taste In which they are fitted up seems
to me questionable. One roonm Is exactly
the same as the other in tihe State apanrt
meats, anid the workcs of art on whaich the
eye might rest with pleasure wvere they
lower down, are confined to small allegori
cal p)aintings ini a modlern spirit. Ini the
room nearest to the gallery where Do Mor
ny kept his pilctuires and( other works of art,
Gambletta usually receives visitors in the
(lay time. Thme chairs are easier tihan it
any other saloons, and thecre are dlesk
tables, on which are piled? blue books, ma
gaziines, newspaipers, and 'offilcial reports
and drawers choked up with letters anA
other doctumeats. 'When Parliament is sit
tiaig, Gambetta Is carefully "'valeted" both
at home and abroad. Wheni it Is In recess
lie wears the shabby "hand me-down suit,
of coarse blue cloth, peg tel) trousers and
loose jacket, called a varcuase, In whichi I
used to see hinm at the offce of the Repub
lique Francealse, and a dark crimison smnok
ing cap. This ,headpiece gives him a
Turkish appearance. When thie-visitor is
on Intimate terms, Gambetta tuirnetthe back I
of a low padded chair in the Voltaire slyhe
towvard him, andi placing haimself astride oat
the seat, crosses his arms on thec back, leans
hise chtin on his hands, and listens whmat thme I
newcomer has to say. When lie wants to
talk himself he starts tip and sticking his
hiatgs in his trousers' pocket, walks about
the room speaaklng voltubly all the time,.
When lie is thus at case, his conversation is
amuch more original and striking than when
lie Is on his p's and q's and obliged to act<
like an ordinary mortal,
Deceptive Distances on the Plains.
A story is told of two Englishmen who
started from Denver, Cl.,for a walk to
the mountains before breakfact, an appar
ently easy task, as tihe mountains did not
appear more than a mnile or two away. Af- I
tcr walking for an hotur without seeming to
have made any progress toward the desired
goal, one of theii became discouraged and a
concluded to return for his breakfast; a!- <
terward lhe took a carrIage and went in<
search of hals friend, whom lie found on the'1
bank of a small ditch, His friend inquired
what hte intendedt to do.a Ho replied, to
wade the ditoh. ils friend aid there w#s
no neoeassty /for that, as it was less thart
three feet aOross, and he could easily juhy1
it. "You can't toli 'anything. ebout, It i
this otntry," responded, the other; 't
may be three hmndred feet aeross for a t
I khow."0 His morpting walk Poy
extend abblit fte~en nilles bfor
reached tha te thlls~ y
FOOD FOR 'I'IHOUGHT.
Silent witnesses were scarcely
known in apostolic days.
Let us adopt the motto, "We believe
Sermons are addressed to men, pray
3r addresses to God.
Beware of being a promising hearer
mid nothing more.
The wise and prudent conquer diii
ulties by daring to attempt them.
Innate rudeness, in spite of restrain,
will betray itself by awkwardness.
Every man is bound to tolerate an act
3f which he himself sets the example.
Hide not the truth when you know it,
nt clothe not the truth with falsehood.
Gratitude is the music of the heart.
vhen its chords are swept by kindiness.
It is with life at with coffee; he who
Irinks it pure must not drain it to the
Tie rich are more envied by those
who have little than by those who have
It is the work of a philosopher to be
hvery day subduing his passions and
aying aside his prej udice.
Have nothing to do with any man in
a passion, for men are not like iron, to
)e wrought upon when hot.
A year of pleasure passes like a fleet
ng breeze, but a moment of sorrow
cems an age of pain
Divine guidance is shown when our
,esel, tempest tossed, keeps steadily
Great things are not accomplished by
tlie dreams, but by years of patient
The way to eternal beatitude is open
o him who without omission speaketh
Be modest not by underrating your
elf but by due appreciation of the
nerits of others.
A wise italian proverb says that
'there are those who despise pride w ith
Envy makes us see what will serve
o accuse others and not perceive what
When the character of any one is
Iiscussed, silence in the good-natu red
llonor and fame from no condition
Ise; act well your part, there all the
Wickedness resides in every hesita
ion about an act even though it be not
There is nothing lower than hypoe
risy. 'To profess friendship and act
nmitj isa sure proof of total depravity.
After an event is irretrievable, noth
ug is more foolish and absurd than the
Iiscussion of what might have been
Happiness consists in occupation of
nind. Small minds require to be oc
mpled by affairs. Great minds can oe
The best kind of revenge is that
which is taken by him who is so gene
ous that lie refuses to take any revenge
The men who always say a kind word
or their neighbors and turn a deaf ear
o scandal are not only very blessed
)ut also very soaree.
Sin always begins with pleasure and
mnds with bitterness. It is like the colt
rhich the little boy said was very taine
n front and very wild behind.
There are some people who think
hat eternal vigilance is a fearful sum
o pay for liberty when a sort of easy
roing slavery can be had for half the
No man has come to true gi eatness
vhio has niot felt in some degree that
its life belongs to his race, and that
vhat God gives him lie gives hiini for
Benjamin Franklin was not a prophet.
mut no prop)het ever uttered a truer
vord, when rightly balanced, than thuis:
'God helps those that help them
The way to honor a true man as lhe
vould be honored, when deaf,h f)rces
thers to enter upon lis labors, is to
ontinue them as he would. have done
ihd lie lived.
-The very hieart and root of sin is an)
ndependent and selfish spirit. We
reot the idol self, andl not only wish
thers to wovshiip it, but we worship) It
Humor is a very important element
ni every man's life. Neither man nor
ilant thrives in the shade. It la nec
assary, however, to see that it Is good
iumior rather tItan bad.
It is when our budding -hopos are
iipp)ed beyond r ecovory by somne rough
vind, that we are the moat dispos&d to
icture to ourselves what diowe's they
nMhit have borne if they had flourish
Some men advertise their Mves and
lie public are generally dIi appointed
mecause the advertisement promises too
nueh; others let their lives advertise
hem aund the public always gets more
han Is promised..'
As men are most capable of distin..
guishing merit In women so the ladles.
>ften form the truest judgment of uts.
L'he two sexes seem plaeo as spies i:pon
ach other, and are furnished with di-.
erent abilities, adapted for muatual in
A drop of Ink Ia a very smallathing,
ret dropped into a tumbler of. ple'ar
vater It blackceps the whole; snd so
lie first oath, the first lie, the 'firat
class, they seem -very trivial, but they
eave a dark stain upon one's character.
look out for the first stai.
"There is no hnk" a d lt,'so.
ehightiul uA t, riangpi4 0Jig
f tynut, & rthi teaso!'te I no
oniversmilona go ate6eble as tiaf te
nan of IhtegrlWwho h0rs la~