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TII-WEEKLY EDITIONI WINNSBORO, S.. C., SEPTEMBER 27, 1879. VOL.
If thou dost bid thy friend farowell,
But for one night though that farowo 1 may be,
Press thou his palm with thine. l[ow canst
How far from thoo
Fate or caprico may lead his foot
Ero that to-morrow comes ? Mon have boon
To lightly turn the corner of a street,
And days havo grown
To months, and months to lagging years,
Before they looked in loving eyes again ;
Parting at bost is underlaid with tears,
With tears and pain.
Therefore lost sudden death should como be
- Or timo, or distanco, olasp with pressure true
The hand of him who gooth forth ; unsoon1
Fate gooth too !
Yes, find thou always time to say
Pome earnest word between the idle talk,
" Lost with thob hondoforth, night and day,
Rl r t should walk.
Under The Hemlock Tree,
At the foot of a largo hemlock a young
girl was sitting. 11er lap was full of
flowers, her hands wei e clasped idly about
her knees, 'her head was thrown slightly
back as she gazed about her, looking like
some young, sylvan queen taking a survey
of her wonderful dominions.
But upon a clearer view, one would have
"She looks the queen, but a very sad,
and a very ragged one.'
Yes, her face was hopelessly sad, and her
garments hopelessly ragged ; hut that did
not conceal the beauty of her features, nor
the air of retinement, the high-born grace
that characterized her.
She had pushed back her dilapidated
straw hat, thus disclosing her wavy brown
hair, and her noble brow : and there she
sat, her large, dark eyes roving wistfully
from object to object, as if pleading for
something-for something she could not
have ; for the love, perhaps which was miss
ing from her life, or for the pity that was
never shown her.
Sho was a young, innocent, ignorant.
thing-ignorant, that is, of the world and
its ways, and of her origin. Since early
childhood she had lived with Mamma i
Orahlun, who was no kin to her, she knew,
but more than that she did not know ; it
was all the home she had, and a miserable
home it had always been. 11er books had I
been her only comfort ; but for them ex
istence would have been intolerable.
Each day, if possible, she would escape
from Man,mia Graham's sharp words, and
petty persecutions, and come to the hem
lock tree, her favorite spot, and sit and
dream of a life in that world which lay be
yond her little sphere.
On the day on which our story opens,
she arose as usual when the sun was sink
Ing in the west ; and, as usual, she sighed
at the prospect of returning to her cheer
She had taken a step or two, when the
sound of horses' hoofs startled her from her
apathy. Turning quickly, she saw a horse
dashing madly by ; in another moment as
the dust cleared partially away, she saw a
mian lying prostrate on the ground. 3
Instantly she started toward him ; then,
her native pride asserted itself, and she f
paused, blushing-yes, blushed painfully
as she looking down at her ragged dress,
and her old worn shoes. But kindness con
quered pride, and she finally sprang to the
inanimate form of the fallen rider.
She leaned over him, and discovered a
slight wound near the temple, from which
she determined to wash the blood and dust.
But, with what?
In despair, she turned aside and examined 1
heor dress, wondering if a ilece of that
would not answer tile purpose; before she
arrived at any decision, an exclamation,
seeming to comel from the woundled muau,
caused 1her to turn.
She shrank back In dismay, as she saw
that he had recovered consciousness, and
was watchling her with commingled curl
osity and amusement.
A smile camne to Is hlandsojne face as he
saw her confusion. That angered her, and
flushing hotly, she turned and fled.
But, scramb)ling to 1118 feet, and stagger
- ing after her, hle succeeded in detaining
her; as hie caughlt hecr by tile arm, shle
faced him, saying fiercely :
"Let me go I"
* "No-no," he replied, gallantly. "You
have saved my lhfe, and( must permit me to ]
"I haven't saved your life,"shIe sniapped,i
trying to jerk hlerself from hlis 1101(.1
'-Well, you would, if there-.had b)een any
necessity for it, so it amounts to the same
thing," hie laughed. "You will let me
thank you-will you not ?"
"IIaven't -you done so?9 Isn't once
enough? W ll you let me go, I must go I
I don't dare to stay out longer I I think
Its rude, very rude in you to hold my arm
like this," she sobbed ,at lsat.
"Ruido, am I ?" lie said, fainmly, as lie
raised one hland to Is head. "I-I fearI
4 exertod my self too soon after my fall. I
"You're going to faint I" she cried.
"You're whlite even to your lips I 011,
sIr, sit down, sit down, and I'll run and
I get some water?9"
Hie obeyed listlessly, and she hastened tolitesrn erly e~rig h
bathled hlis face, and forced the old tin dip
T per betwen his teeth. HeIr efforts were
-noon reOwardeSd, for 110 opened his eyes, and:
looked grat'efully at her ; then, catching her
little hand in his, he said , nesty :
"How soft and gentle is your touch, my
little maid I There-there! don't get
angry, and jerk your hland away like that.
I mean no offense, I can assure you. will1
you tell me who you are?i"
"I don't know," she.rephied, tremuilously.
* I am called Betty Graham, and that is all I
can tell you 1'
"Wha~t a strange little creature you are,"
lie half miused, as he eyed her critically
fronm head to foot,
She flushed hotly beneath Is scrutiny,
and turnea away, nyng angrily: .4
"It's rather tui aeful i you to maikoe
fun of me, I think! I know my clothes
are ragged, that my shoos are full of holes..
and that' i1y hat je ttll torn,; but that ,is no
c'ason why you shoild-'
"Bless my) stars I" ho interrupted, start
nug trp suddenir. "~t.t making fun'
"I oling,ayu she said owctl$',
"Promise me first that. you will see me
She fairly grasped at tihat. Sec liin1
lgain1 It wits as if i prospect of seeing
hat far-off world, for which she had
longed so much, had been opened unto her !
l'he idea alone took her breath--she could
lie caught her hands in h1i-saying
"You will see me again I I'll conie to
norrow. Where ?"
''Nowhere l" she cried, thinking of her
ags and of Mammy Graham.
"I won't let you go, my little maid, till
Vou tell me whoile I can see you. I mean
xhat I say-understand that."
She pausecl< for a moment, thinking
hen, roguishly, she said :
"Well, if you will come, colie here."
They were standing beneath the ihem
Before she could say a word she had
tarted away, and was soon lost to sight be
lind t hill.
There was a strange, passionate gladness
n her heart, as she ran home, even while
the said to herself :
"IIe may go there, but lie won't see me
here and be won't be able to find me."
But the next day she was at her post, ,as
18ual; she made excuses to herself forheinig
here, by saying :
"le will not come, of course."
Yet, all the time, she was looking long
ugly down the road.
Hours passed, and the sun was near the
vestern horizon again; thent she bowed her
lead upon her lap and wailed.
"Oh, I knew lie would not come ! Why
lid 1 hope he would I
Almost at the same instantshe' felt a
mld on her shoulder, and she heard a
''What's the matter, my little maid?"
She started up t.reubling and confused.
"So you thought I wouldn't come," ie
laid gently, -"and I made you sad. Alt,
lon't contradict?" as she looked up de
lantly. "Don't contradict, for I heard
rour words as I came up to you."
In a week more these two-Clinton Rus
1ell, as lie called himself, and Bettie
:rahtam-were lovers. Their happiness
,as stolen as yet, for Bettie-or Ettie, as
ic called her-dreaded to tell Manluy
:Trahan of it, and wis putting off the evil
lay as long as possible.
A week, two weeks, three weeks passed,
md each (lay Clinton and Etlie met beneath
he hemlock tree, and exchanged vows of
IIe was in earnest, terribly in earnest, or
ie would not have yielded to his love for a
ilmeless, portionless girl ; and she-well it
vas heaven to her, this love that had come
o suddenly into her life !
A change came, all too soon.
"My father is dying," lie said one day,
is he met her later than usual, "and I must
o to him. "
"And leave me?" she moaned.
"For a while, darling-only for a while
ion I will come and take you away from
icre," Et tie," he added, earnestly, 'promise
-promise to love ie, to be true to me till
Her promise was fervently given. le
teld her to his heart as lie said :
"My darling, I am going out into the
;rcat, wide world again, but know this ;
tot onc among dhem all can have any
harms for me, now that I know and love
And so they parted. With his passion
ite kiss trembling on her lips, she stood
ad watched him out of sight ; then she
vent home to wait for him to come again.
Alas, what a bitter time followed for
ter while waiting in vain I Weeks, months
)assed, and lie did not come ; and now,
mder the hemlock tree, she sat bowed and
vecping, as if by the grave of her buried
The flowers faded, the leaves fell, win
cr's breath began to be felt, and( still silo
vas alone and desolate.
Oni returing to hter hiomte 0110 (day, shte
v'as surprised to find there-a man ; a tall,
~rave, htand(somle man, standintg in Manuny
irahmam's parlor. As sihe entered the room
iamiiy Graham cried out:
"TIhere she is, good cir, kintd sir, miost
ioble sir I There site is, I say"
"That I" exclaimed tile stranger, looking
n dlismtay at Bettic and her rags. "Is tht
niy child I"
"Yes, that's your child I And Bettic,
ny little dear, thtat's your father-your
rood, kind, noble fathicr I Can't you speak
o him I"
No, for she was speechlose. IHer father I
)lt, joy 1,-shec was to be claitmed by some
mnc at last. She ap)proalcd him timidly,
icr long dark eyes full of longing. Hie
orgot her rags then, and saw only the
miage of htis dead wife; and lie cIasp)ed her
o his hteart, crying aloud :
"My child-my ehtild I- God forgive me
or my crulelty to you!-''
Soon she kntew thte whole sad story : Hecr
notheor htad (lied in giviig hter birth, for
vhtichi hter fether hated her, even when she
mas only a helpless infant. As soon as his
vife wvas burled lie wvent to far-off-lands,
caving his child to the care of the nurse.
tlammiy GLrahtam. She, feeling that lie
would some day coime to chlim htis girl, do
eorninied to punish himi through the child;
ience her manner of rearing Bettle, dopriv
ng her of everything but books.
But all was changed now. 11cr father
ook her with him to the world for whtich
lie had always longedl; she was no longer
'agged, friendless Bettlo GIrahiam, but the
)eautfil and accompillishecd Florence
B3rlstol, dlaughter of the wealthy banker.
Was she happy?i No ; for above all the
3eace and plenity she now htad, she longed
'or the days whten ClInton Russell's love
iad been here.
"Fierry," said her father, one morning
is lie looked up from a letter, "I've Just re
:elved word from young Reed. You have
icard ate speak of his father's recent death ;
mut I htave never told you that it was lie
rho begged me to go for you, Florry."
She looked the surprise she felt.
"A few words will explain it, my child;
1e had a son, an only son, whom I have
ilways loved dearly ; knowing that, lie
>leaded w.lth pie to try to biring about a
narrlag4 be3tweenlhimi and miy daughter.
Why 9 you may ask. So thtat my wealth
~onki save the name of Reed froni disgrace.
[ pinised hin t9 do what I could ; I went
or you, and-and this letter tells that
roung Reed is coming"
"Well," she aske, in her old glefiant
way "and.then what I"
"You will meet, and I hope you will
earn t.aefor each otbr. There is no
~ompulsion lethi, remenbor ; but it weould
makce me very happy to see yott two man
Florry said nothing, but ehe know that, t
would never be, for the memory of the
vows mad1e under the hemlock tree would
ever stand between her and another love.
Several days after. as she was preparing
herself for dminer, fastening a scarlet blos
som in her dark hair and wondering how
Clinton woulI like her in her rich attire,
she received word from her father that
young 1(eed had arrived.
Not a pulse-beat quickened ; perfectly
calm and indifferent, she descended to the
parlor to meet him. She saw him, bend
ing over an album on the center table, and
her senses began to reel. As in a dream,
she heard her father's voice, saying :
"Clinton let me present you to my
Dimly she saw him look up from the
album, and she saw the face that had been
so dear to her-her lover's, Clinton lHussel's
face before her 1 And to the great surprise
of the persons present, she sank quietly to
the floor unconscious.
le did not recognize her, and she was
too proud to Unlighten hhn). She saw his
card one day-Clinton Russell IHeed-that
explained the question of name to her.
She received his attentions because she
could not send him from her. She loved
him still, madly, devotedly ; but oh I what
pain was mingled with her love, knowing
that he was not ti ue-that ho was one to
win a young girl's trusting love, and to
cast it aside carelessly when the fancy
A day came when he asked her to be his
wife. She could not reply. How could
she refuse him ? Yet, she dared not except
him, for never could she have faith in him,
knowing what she did.
"Well, Florry, what is your answer?"
he asked, as she stood silent before him.
"Tell me this," she said in return.
' lIave you ever loved before ?"
IIe saw her agitation, and attributing it
to jealousy and wishing to appease her he
-She turned aside and moaned. Oh, if
lie had only confessed to that other love,
she would not have deemed him quite so
''Conc to-morrow for your answer," she
cried, as she left him abruptly. ''It will
be 'no,' " she added to herself. as she hur
ried to her room. "I cannot marry him
he is false and cruel !"
And yet her resolution tortured her, till
she felt as if she were going mad. At last,
in despair and frenzy, she donned cloak
and hat, and left the house In secret. To
go where? Back to the hemlock tree-to
the grave of her buried hopes.
Just at sunset she reached the little vil
lage. Oh, wbat memories assailed her as
she neared the old trystiug-place I Her
eyes were tilled with tears, so that she saw
but dimly; and she was almost on the spot
before she bocaie aware that another-a
man-was already there.
She dtew back quickly ; but glancing at
him again she saw that it was-Clinton I
Instantly, all about and within her
seemed to burst out into a loud song of re
joicing. Eagerly she sprang forward, cry.
"Clinton-Clinton, why are you here ?"
IIe started violently, then turning to her,
he said coldly :
"May I ask why you arc here ?"
"Oh, no-no, don't be unkind, Clinton I
Only tell me this: Are you here because
you still love little ragged Betty Graham ?"
"Great Heavens! What do you know
'Everything I" she cried. "Oil, Clinton,
don't you see-must I tell you that I am
"You-you I" he gasped. "Oh, God,
call it be?"
He caught her in his arms, and looked at
her keenly; then, raining kisses on her face,
"Oh, blind, blind fool that I have been!
ShIould I not have known these eyces? 0Oh,
God1 be praised I--now I can live again!I
You think me cruel, little rmald-cruel and
heartless! God knowshlow I have suffered I
I had to give my promise to 'my dying
father to marry Mr. Bristo1's daughter
that promise, <-nee given, was sacred to mec;
I could( not break it. I dalredl not trust
myself to see my darling Ettic-I dared not
write to her; it was only safe for mec to
keep away-to be cruel to her. I Came
heo te-day to bury my love, er~e I re
ceived your answer to-morrow, whichl, I
flattered mlyself, wouild be 'yes.' Let us
thank God,'my darling, that we hlave met
andl can renew our vows, here, where we
first learned1 to love--under the hemlock
ulrghit?s.Disease and Ice Water.
A Baltimore dIruggist of experience and
amp)lc op)portunity for observaition, has ad
vanced1 thle idea that Bright's disease is at
tributaible to the immoderate use of ise wa
ter and cold1 drinks. Hie sites the falct that
time people of this country use0 nineby per
cent. mor~e ice in their drinks than tile peo
plo of any other country, Greenlandors not
excepted. We have seventy-five per cent.
more of Brlghlt's disease. Hie cites the fact
thlat tile wvinc-drinking counitrie~s of Europe
are comparatively free from theo malady.
Travelers hlave observed and commented
upon the prejudice which seems to exIst
against ice water and Iced drinks in all
couintries outside of time United States. Tile
Eniglishmnan and the Germani fairly shun
ice, though placed in easy reach of' bound
less quanltities of It, and time Frenchman
whIo sips tli0 light wines would as soon
think of taking an emetic as of chilling his
stomnachl with an ice draught. Our drug
frie'nd points to the fact that Bright.'s dis
ease has kept pace in tis co4rntry withl thme
Increased consumption of ice and claims
that before e became a common hlouse,
hold necessity thle malady was scarcely'
known among physicIans. There mmay be0
somethling in this theory.-,
Deafness from Tobacco Smnoktng.
Chewing is mfuchl less liable to cause those
troubles than smoking, becatise the tobacco
smoke comcs In contact with a much larger
surfade than the salita Impregnated with
tobacco. Cigaretto smoking is the moot in
jurious, because the smoke Is so often blown
through thle nose and at the sam6 time enters
the eustachian tube, The tobacco smoke is
laden with line particles, which gain access
to the middle oar an~d frritate Its hining'iemi
brane. Wille this does not admit of aetuAr
demonstration, it is rendered highly
ble bytefe he iti
In this manner, and are frequent o1bserved:
:In habituanl smolteri The long Oontintoate I
Iof Blichirritation glte rise to a ch tno ias.
ianWnaltIan of the Anj*'
A party of balloonists started the other
(lay from Montreal, with a machine to
which was rigged wings, wit )a view of
handling the balloon. A Ilerald corres
pondent, who was ont' of the navigators,
gives a long account of the voyage. We
select two paragraphs, showing the prac
tical operation of the wings: Mr. Cowan,
perched a li Commodore in the rigging,
cried out : 'Turn the wings I We have
forgotten to use them.' Then colmenced
the first experiment of the (lay with the
machinery. Mr. Aloulton steered, Mr.
Grimley and Mr. Iarper manned the port
side of the windlass which worked the
wings, and Mr. Browning am' Mr. Page
took the otherside. Away went. the wings,
while the balloon showed iulnciately that
they added considerably to her inomentum.
The fans had been fixed to ascend, and we
went up very fast, until M1r. Page cried
out, "stop I stop I" Ye are sawing away
the balloon netting I" And sure enough
there was mnch need for caution. The
basket had been rigged a little too near the.
netting of the balloon. Had the friction of
the paddles upon the ropes, which had been
hauled tight by the wveight of the car, con
tinued, there is little doubt that they would
soon have been separAted. The six men
and 400 pounds of .ballst. would then have
flown to mother eat<th without further
'We must try and tack," said Mr.
Cowan, and again we inanied the wheel,
workirg them with greater force than be
fore. The result was surprising. Mr.
Moulton put his helhn a-lee and away she
went, We tacked about two miles toward
the clearing in about four minutes, but
here a difliculty presented itself. The bal
loon being round, gradually answered her
helm until the helm had turned her com
pletely about and we were running stern
foremost. The helm was then put hard
a-port and the wings oommenced to take
us back to the forest. ;\o one thought of
unshipping the rudder,- We stopped the
paddles and in a few nments were going
bow on again.
"We commenced to work again, when
the most startling affair of the voyage oc
curred. We were working away when
Grimley cried out:
"'Stop, for God's sake stop I'
"At that moment ,lr. Hlarper, whose
face was turned In that direction, saw what
had caused Grimley's exclamation and was
just then inl the act of stopping. The valve
rope and the 'rip-line' were hanging from
the mouth of the balloon and both had
caught in the crank on the lee side of the
ship. The 'rip-line' is so contrived that a
strong pull rips the whole side of the bal
loon open and collapses her. We were
about 800 feet from the ground. The
reader who sits perusing this may readily
imagine what the consequences would have
been. Five very white faces watched the
professor and the line."
A Narrow Eir.ape*
''Caleb,' said Dinah, suddenly, "there
isn't a drop of water to make poor Grandma
a cup of teal"
Instantly, Caleb was overturning things
in one corner to get at a water-pail. When
It was found, and a rope to make fast to it,
the four children went into "mother's
room" and Caleb cautiously raised the
heavy sash. In caie the cold wind and
the colder breath from the great cakes of
ice that went surging past the stones of the
house; for the river had broken up. The
sight was appealing I One young head
ventured out and another and another, un
til all had had a glance at the wild waste
of whirling waters that surrounded Drew's
Folly on each and every side.
Wif burst into a flood of tears, and Roy
"I think we'd ought to be a-saying our
prayers 'stead of gettig supp)ler to eat, only
I am 'most aw ful hungr-y."
Wif's tears were not quenched, nor was
Roy's little speech noticed, for Caleb had
lot the pall down into the boiling, tumbling
surge that'rushed b)y, not more than four
feet below the window-ledge. As t,he pail
touched wvater, an inmense cake of ice
struck it, and away wvent pail, rope and ice,
although Caleb strove to hold on with such
a desperate clutch that the rope cut into
his pahns as it was p)ulledl through them.
'The water is rising just awvful now,"
said Caleb, wvringing his hands hia pain,
"Anyhow, water we must have," dhe
cidled Dinah ; and whilst Caleb held his
hands to endure the pain better, she went
to search for another pall. Roy staid with
Caleb, and Wif wvcut to help Di)nah,
"You shall have the tea soon, now,
Grandma, dear," Dinah stoppedl to say,
and then began a vigorous overturning of
the utensils lying about the room.
It was raining no longer, and through a
rift in the clouds the moon shone1 down just
as Caleb put his head out, and lookIng up
the river, saw a mighty tree coming down
on tihe flood.
"'it '11 come against tihe house, right uip
to this window," he cried, and Ils first iml
pulse was to close the winudow. It was ar
rested by a sound that no tempest ever uit
tered a note of. It was a human cry, and
"Help I Help I"
"Hold( 0n 1 hold on I" yelled Caleb out
into the rush and tile roar, and then withI a
flash of motion 110 seized the nearest thing
to his hand and thrust it forth, bending
over the ledge to do so, at the very Instant
Dinahl rushed to his side. With the qicek
ness of thought, she fell upon her knees be
hind him and threw her arms ab)out lisa
body, while Wif, with a cry, seized one of
his legs and held on with all his strenigth,
and Roy tried his utmost-happily, with
out suecess-to let the 81a81 down. on his
back, so determined was lie not to lose
Down caime thio4big tree, Its branches
struggling in vain in tihe grasp of the wa
ters, and its mighty boughs shma"n as no
wind had ever smitten them. There clung
for life to thle tree, a despairing, helpless
mnan,-despairing until be. poroeived that
the current would dash the tree full against
the house. 'rhe light of the moon gave to
him a sight of tho open window, and from
it outstretched, awaiting his possible grasp.
the friendly chair that Caleb had seized.
It .was a strongV, old-fashioned, honestly
wrought chair, that had been made by'the
orIglea1 Caleb Drow. The tree eamp~ on ;
for' an instant it ground against tho niaonry
of the F1olly, then a crash of glass in a sash
below was hoard as a limb went through it
-'a pause-and the tree broke loose and
Went on. B34t'in that chance, that puse,
that Instant of delay, a hand gapdthe
ch*4Ir,.ailother colutched the stodIge and
them nt gained fast liold of the still aoe
oh ta w msaoinent worth living forti
Child-hands had helped to drag in an un
known man, and found, when lie was in,
that he was the father of six of thoso help
ing hands I
The joy of a moment like that n.oment
will not get into words. It burst the bond
of language and utters itself by eyes, and
lips, and arms.
All that I can tell you that really hap
pened within the next few seconds, was,
that a tall, flne-looking m't, in drenched
garments, stood, like one bewildered in a
dream, with four children dancing, scream
ing, hugging and kissing; that ho was told
that grandmother was all safe and well;
that the old cow was In the tower, and that
if the watpr Caine above the floor they were
all going to -$ together to lift grandma
o of bed and" Pry her up there; that he
411 ked how he cane to get into the
rloi,' nd all about mother, where she was
and how, she was going tt get home, besides
forty other questions.
'My father was a farmer In East Lothiat
for many years. lie had an old watch, by
whioh he set great store. One day while
superintending the harvest operations he
lost his watch. At instant search was made
all over the field ; but it could not be found.
Many Irish laborers were busy cutting the
corr ; they were all examined, but still no
clue could be found to the lost chronometer.
One day ten years after, as my father was
standing in the same field watchilig the
sowing of some wheat, he observed some
thing extraordinary lying among the newly
ploughed eart h. ft. was the old gold watch,
looking rather dirty ; but there it had re
mained while one crop after another had
been sown and reaped ; and singular to re
late, through your readers may be iucredu
lous, the glass was not even cracked.
A friend of mine regained a locket under
curious circumstances. She was traveling
in Australia, and was walking in Mel
bourne one day, when a friend with her in
quired whether she had a locket on when
she came out. Mrs. Dunn replied that she
had ; and putting her hand to her throat,
missed it. She retraced her steps and
searched carefully ; but no traces could she
find. She also advertised the loss and of
fered a handsome reward ; but it was no
use, and she returned to England soon af
ter. She happened to have occasion to go
to Southampton, and while walking out,
saw in a shop window a locket the gac-sin
ile of the one she lost. She entered the
shop, and asked to look at it closer, and in
quired if it opened. The woman said it
did not. But Mrs. Dunn pressedi a spring,
and there was the face of a son she had
lost, and in whose memory she had the
locket made. Upon her claiming it, the
woman said that a soldier's wife just come
from Australia had sold it to her, saying
that shte had picked it up in Melbourne
streets. Mrs. Dunn recovered the locket
for a small consideration.
One evening Mr. and Mrs. A - left
their house in the neighborhood of Dublin
to' (ine with a friend. The distance being
short, they went on foot. The night was
wet and stormy, and when nearing the
house of their friend, the lady suddenly
discovered she was minus a valuable car
jewel of Indian workmanship. Looking on
this loss as irrecoverable, the lady returned
to her home. The loss was keenly felt.
not so much from the intrinsic value, al
though this was great indeed, as from the
fact, that the appendages were the gift of an
old friend, It was useless to attempt a
search, such was the Inclemency of the
night ; but it was decided to try what
could be done at daybreak. Mr. A
accordingly set out on what he considered
a needless errand. Passing over, as near
as possible, the same ground as that trav
ersed the previous evening, with his eyes
attentively fixed on the ground, lie was
startled by the voice of a man Inquiring if
lhe had observed a (log, which had also been
lost t,he p)receding night. Replying in the
negative, lhe at, the same time observed the
object of his search lying uninjured a few
yards trom himn close to the curbstone on
the roadway. It was In such a p)osit ion
that many vehicles andi pedecstrians must
have p)assed over the spot.
The Vicotoria Ildge,
We steam out, of Montreal on the Grand
Triunk railway, passinig through rat her than
over, the great Victoria brfdge, the largest,
tub)ular bridge in the world, In whIch 250,
000 tons of stone and 7.500 toins of Iron
were used, and which cost, about .?1,250.
000. Two abut,ments and twenty-four piers
support the superstructure; there arc
twenty-five spans, the centre one is 830
feet, each of the others 242 feet ; the bridge,
includilng the abutments, Is 7,000 feetl1ong.
Thei centre opening Is sixt,y feet above the
water level ; the weight of Iron In the
tubes Is 8,000 tons. 'The tubes through
which the trains pass are twenty-two toot
hi1gh by sixteen feet In width, in the mid
die span, aiid nineteen by sixteen feet at
the ends. The tubes are perfectly air
tIght, and when a train wishes to cross the
bridge, it is jammed tightly Into the end of
the tube, the windows aie all shut down,
steam off, and the gateman, placing the end
of the tube in his mouth, gives a tremen
dous puff and the train shoots through at
the rate of four hours a mile. There is the
advantage of a tubular over the other kind.
A man might blow the never (lying soul
out of himself, and lie couldn't blow a
train through an ordinary open wvork truss
bridge. Too much vent. As it Is, It Is
terribly hard on the man at Victoria bridge.
HIe has to be relieved every twenty-four
hours, and then lie only last. a few years.
The fla1ygIng Gardeni of Assyria.
Mr. Rassam's excavations on the Mujo
libi Mound, have proved that this was the
site of the famous hanging gardens, for in
Its ruins lhe found wells, aqueducts, and
ponderous masses of stone, all provIng that
the building had been erected, as the Greek
writers say, to imitate mountain scenery.
Trho stone used was a black basalt, which
Is found only In the Armenian hills, and
the immense masses must have boen floated
down the river. In a mound to the south
of the mass of city ruins, called Jumjuma,
Mr. Rlassam discovered the remaius of a
rich hall or palacee, with columns composed
of enameledbricksand mosa10; the cornices
were of painted brick, and the roof of rich
Indian black wood. Prom tihe posjtioa of
this paleeoog banqueting hal5 it wotijd ap
pear to zsave been ultusted og~ the bankl of
the river, and was probablf 'he o o f th6
state~ feetit1 and banquets, .Tho insc4p
'oisf .u hv
At the fur-famed falls of the l'assaic, N.
J., at novel sight presents itself. A short
distance above the chasm is the dam of the
Society for the Promotion of Useful Manu
factures, which controls the entire water
power of the Passaic River, an immense
franchise, held by a perpetual charter. The
society itself was organized by Alexander
Ilamilton. Between this dam and the
chasm, usually a rushing torrent, are now
to be seen nothing but nake:I trap-rock, and
one can cross the river without wetting the
siles of his shoes. At one end of the dam
at little water is allowed to flow over it so as
to supply the steam pimps of the water
company on the opposite side. The pecu
liar formation of lie precipices constitu
ting the falls can now be viewed. Beginl
ning lown the river, in the Valley of the
Rocks, where the names of some of the
Revolutionary soldiers encamped there tin
der Washington are still to be seen carved
in the rocks, a chasm probably fifty feet
wide (livides the immense strata of trap
rock and extends some five hundred feet
into the solid mass. its sides are perfectly
perpendicular, amid vary f1.C.i seventy-two
to eighty feet in height. At the base the
water has worn away the rock, and it is
only a quest ion of time as to when the sides
of the chasm will collapse, and gives the
falls an entirely new appearance. A bridge
crosses the clhasmii anad thotusanl Is of visitors
daily gaze into the black depths wit Ii feel
ings of awe and amazement. At the end
of the ehaasm, some three hundred feet
above the bridge, it divides itself into two
inimnense fissures.jwhich penetrate deeplinto
the heart of the rock, and each enls in a
point. The left fissure is the longer,lex
tending over two hundred feet, atnad its
black, shining, perpendicular sides cause
the visitor to turn aside with at shudder ais
he remembers the trage(ly, which was en
acled in 185:3 on the rocks opposite, and
which abnost touches the jagged edges of
the right. si(d(e of the fissure. In that year
the wife of Rev. Mr. Taylor of New York,
while admiring the sublimity of nature
from the crag, fell forward into the then
seething mass of water below, and her hus
band, in at vain attempt to rescue, followed
The immense rocks that have crumbled
from the top and ledges projecting from the
sides make the descent of the right fissure
possible, though extremely diflicult. Care
fully stepping from rock to rock, sometimes
moving on hiands (land feet, a I erald repre
sentative descended this fissure. At every
downward step the increasing chilliness of
the atmosphere was plainly perceptible, un
til, when the eighty feet of descent had
been accomplished, the temperature would
certainly have warranted an overcoat.
lere among the bleak and threatening
rocks, in the very womb of nature, where
the stiushine never dispels the prevailing
(larkness, and where mani can place his foot
perhaps but once ini a generations, were
several fisherman, who, neglectful of the
Inplied law of nature which seems to have
reserved this fissure, had penetratel to this
place in quest of sport. The surface of
water, interspersed here and there with
jagged rocks, which raise their heads oanli
ously above the surface, is perhaps some
hundred and fifty feet long, and at its great
est breadth some twelve feet wide. Where
the fissure joins its neighbor to. create
the chasm, accident has heaped rock upon
rock, making the place all that It. seems-a
dungeon for the finny trihe. Black bass
were being caught in large numbers, but
the principal ail of aill seemed to be to stir
up from its hiding place the immense turtle
which Is imprisoned there. The animal
has been seen frequently in the watery
prison during the last few (lays, and from
all accounts is a huge ;snapper about five
feet long and three wide.
How Statues are Made.
T1hae bironZo stautuaary just, now so poputlar
is amatfacttured by a simple enough prao
cess. Over the clay atodel is poured a coat
ing of pilaister of Pais, whaich having beeni
allowed to set, is takent offilin sections, thus
affordliga hollow mould of the figure. From
such a miouald isjproduced a stucco duiplicaite,
either of the entIre staitue or of such a por
tioan thereof as is imnteandedl to be caist at a
time, andl ona this againi is formaed a second
mould of greatea thickness aund solidity for
the receptioni of molten mietal. The mate
rial used for thec final amould Is a coamposition
of stucco amnd brick-dust. This Is aplplied
in a plastic state to the stucco model, fronm
which its Inner surface taikes thme form of'
.hae figure. Were statues cast, solid1, it would
now only be necessary to sepatrate mnould
front miodel, aind run metal into the formier
mill its interior was filled. This, however,
wotuld involve absurd waste, and( In order
to economize material, a solid core is placed
inside the mould, leavinmg only suach space
mll around as will receIvo thme thickniess of
maetal deemed neccessAry for the work In
hand. The mnouild with Its core havIng
been thus comp)letedl and firmly hooped
round wIth bands of Iron, Is placed iat a
kIln to b)ake to perfect dryaness. TIs pre
cautIon is necessary from the cIrcumstance
that even a trace of moisture might, on the
alpplication of molten metal, occasion a dana
gerouas explosion. In the case of the cast
Ing now In question the dryIng of the mould
occupies some weeks On the removal
from the kIln the mcu'd Is buried in dry
earth below thme floor of the foundry, only
aperture for receivmg the metal and the
vomnt-hole for the escape of air remainIng
A Snmgutlatr Vat, Story.
A fairmer had been troubled with rats for
some timo, and finally purchased a cat that
was recommended as a good monser. The
cat sustained Its reputatIon, aid rats wore
soon unknown in the house, and the farmer
congratulated himself greatly. Iiadreams
of freedom were dIspelled one day, how
ever, by the cries of the servant gIrl, who
said thtat on going down collar where theo
cat was Indulging In its noonday repast she
saw a large rat eating at the sanme dish with
the cat, and solemnly averred that when
she went toward them the rat clased her
and made her run up stairs. The cat, she
said, seemed to enjoy his company, and ap
peared as if charmed by the rat just as a
snake charms a bird. The farmer would
not credit the story until he saw. the samie
tthing a day or two afterward. He allowed
the strange fiendship to exist for aev6Ml
days, the rat coming regular to parfake
of meals with the eat. F~inai the fArmer
decided tQ umt ani end to tesingti1r
friendship aii taking,a gun went a theo
-At Chautauqua L
miniature of the lolyrI
one acre of la:,d.
-The Thomas Iron Cot
town, Pa., has 300,000 t0
and hematite ore on!a 4
-'The law prohibitin ,
tion of An.ortcan eatti"j
eastern provinces of
on the 6th of August.
-France produced in. tU.
lug with last Septembor.th
amount of over 800,000,000
-The Jndianapolis Se?,ttn
an estimate, by countles'6 a
crop of Indiana and mak a
total 55,000,000 bushels.
-4 Canadian 6 feet 7ilo.
weighing 280 pounds, an
52 inches around the oh'ent
his brother in Iydetowd
-Every silk mill in PatWst
is running to Its fullest oapt
some of the manufacturersa,
to take all the work that 14 0
-There were eighty-six:''
San Francisco during the A
ed on the 30th of June. bttzv w
ber twenty-seven wvereor
ten ware natives of New T6rI
-A block of marble qu' re
mont the otier day measured
inches in length, 2 fee ,.Iib..
width, and 2 feet 3 iacheutI t Ick et
and weighed about 24,0 ads
-Bismarck's salary as Atl"'
the Empire and a Prus1
$13,500. Dr. Falk, on
thirty-three years' service
sion of $3,300. ,; yy
-Major General Cliffor tt
lish army in Zubiland, hi: 9llm tha
owner of the horse Fate, o
Louis Napoleon unsuccese th
mount when fleeing frot
-Erastus Corning, of A
has made arrangelents "' ul
about 200,000,000 feet of,1J71' or
from a tract of land belong
on the western shore of L $ . an.
Some earth and chips -:41'610
the Tuileries, the gift of t ' uhtQr
of an oflicial of the Em .d
cured them while passing t arlsr
on her way to Ciiselhurst burled
in the Prince Imperial's c .
-A French dollar of a. % of 2
215 grammes, and equivl pVal
to the dollar of the Uni
now being Issued from the s t e d oa
is. It is intended for ci~~~t
Cochin, China .
-A late resident of Nort
Mr. Jesse II. D. Reed, h,
will his whole property, 0 ' "
$20,000, to three old slaves
for their care of him in l d 9
years. i .1)
-A memorial chapel totce
Imperial is about to be ere i 1s1
Tihe prime movers In -th e "
Joachim Murat, president e,Qom
mittee; General Fleury, b
man, Paul de Cassagnac an u
-The watch whlieh Geti sh
ington had made in Lond '
Martha Custis, and prcse : e
just before their marriage has been
added to the collection of rei(os at.Wash
ington's h eadquarters in Newburg -''i
-It is stated in Boston that;Mrs.
Monroe, the widow of the dean R41the
School of Oratory of Boston UnIyerAty,
will occupy her late husband's char at
the autumn tortn. It is aid, fi*ther,
that she is perfectly capp ole of gOing
the work well.
-Time Iowa State Board of: a
tion reports that there re34$ O 698
acres of land in that Sta , of an>aver
age value of $7.11 per ac Q The total
equtalizedl value of land ~n osis ;.
$3103,715,046 ; of personalty,8 585.
Grand total, $405,763,531. 1
-Joseph r'emple, of Wq)
aged 92 years 0 months, a~
his wife, aged 01, were a
15th of February, 1807, and4
together on the same farm
own 72 years. Their child
sixteen, ten of whom are 11y
Sons and three daughters.
-Our milling industry
to that of Iron. Tihe numb
over 25,000, affording empy
mere than 60,000 mn,w
wages are about $20, 0000,
lng out yearly 50,000,00 bar
of whilehi 40,000,000 are expo
-The Narrow ge~ railr
point on the Virn la and
Railroad to the Aitona coa
southwestern Virginia, has
pieted and is now ready for
mine of coal, inexhaustible
and, it is claimed, of a qual
the Pennsylvania anthraolte
-In tearing down the old
Albany depot at North Ada
last Thursday, a workma
piano laying on a beam, wh
been placed over thirty years
the depot was first built.
good condition and bore th
* J. Webb, Pittsfield, Mass,
still living, anid to whaom thm
will be returned.
-Shool teaching in -M
is not without its dangers.
teacher in Franklin count
temapting to correct one of
the other day, when thrpe
about fourteen years old at
throwing her down an ki
She got up and left the se
butfaitedon the road hom
proves to have beek~ ierioI
--Mr. James titzer havib
his position ais princijpal oft
water -(rPenna.) Soldiers'
School, tame school was olese~
of August, and the uIs
to onme or more of the 01,
viz: Uniontown, *et
Mercor, Mercer nta