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WINNSBORO, . C. NO.i4R, 1
* *-WEEKY .DITION,
TIl-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. d., NOVEMBER 18, 1880. VOL. IV.-NO. 139.
Grandmother paces with stately tread
Forward and back through the quaint old
Out of the firelight, dancing and red.
Into the gathering dusk and gloom;
Forward and back. In her silken dress
* With it. taling-rufmes of froet-like lace ;
4 look of the doepeet tendernese
In the faded'lines of her ne old faoe.
Warm on her breast in his red night-gown
Like a scarlet lily the baby lies,
While softly the tired lige droop down
Over the little sleepy eyes.
Grandmother sings to hin'weet and low,
And memories come wi.h the cradle-song
Of the days when she sang It long ago,
When her life was young and her heart was
Grandmother's children have left her now,
' he )sre old house is a shadowed plae;
.ut. shilingp t in the ounset glow
Of I (r life, like a star, comes the baby's
He lies wi ere of cId his fatherlay;
Fc tly she sings bit the esme aet of elin
Till the !ers intetverIr p ere siept as ay, ,
And the joy of life's ir orning is I I r a $i
Grandmother's gray head in t ending low
Over the dear little downy one
The steps of her pathway are few to go;
The baby's journey Is just begun.
Yet the rosy dawn or his childish love
Brightens the evening that else were dim;
And in after years from her home above,
- The Aight of her blessing will rest on him.
On The Heights.
"I will stand up to shout," Bugh said.
"Will you lean back agalns this hillf I
will lay your cousin down with her head
in your lap. bho is souid as a top. Now
for itI" and standifig up -Hugh gave a shout
with all the power of his lungs.
There was a pause in the movement of
the lanterns and then a shout.
"Hallo-a-a!" Hugh shouted again; "this
Rapidly the lanterns came flittering
along the road till they were d-.wn in
front of them.
"Here we arel here are the ladiesl"
"Any one hurtI"
"Not much: but we can't get either up
or down. You must let a rope down to us
from above. Here we are, and Hugh
struck a match and lighted a large piece of
paper. "Have the party above got ropes?"
There was shouting backward and for
ward, but the party above had not got
"Send back for them at once," Hugh
shouted, "and be sure and tell the lady
that no damage is done here."
"How do you feel now?-I was going to
say cousin Amy," lie laughed; "but I
really haven't the pleasum of knowing
"How do you feel now. Miss Herbert?"
"I feel weak, and rather headachy," she
said; "but there is nothing really the mat.
ter with me. What an escape I have
"Yes, you had a narrow squeak of it,"
Hugh said frankly; "just another pound
or two of impetus and you would have
gone over the ledge."
She was silent, and he went on.
"Do you object to smoke? Because if
you don t I should really like to light my
"Not at all," Amy said.
"There's something comfortable about a
pipe," Hugh said. when it was fairly'
alight; "somehow one can talk when ones
gets i.pipe alight."
"I think men can talk at all times," Amy
said, with a flash of her usual spirits.
"Mome mnen can," Hugh said. "I can
talk with men ; but, do you know, some
how I can't 'talk with women. I can talk
.with you now because I don't soe you,
'and because I am smoking; but I should
feel horribly uncomfortable if I met you in
"I did not know any men were shy with
women, nowadays," Amy said,
"Shy?" Hugh repeated. "Well, yes,
I suppose it is a sort of shyness with me.
I never had any sisters,' and so, you see,
1 never got in the way of talking to girls.
It is very annoyiug sometimes, and makes
people think me a b"ear. I suppose you
thought so. You must have done so."
"Yes,'' Amy said. "I did think you
rather a bear, I. am . not accustomed to
shy young men, and snuply fancied you'
* did not want to speak to strangers. And
now, please tell me exactly what hap
pened, because I shall have to te'd aunt,
and I have only a confused idea of what
has taken place."
Again Hugh told her the facts.
'-Then I owe my life to you," the girl
said, when lie had finished. *
"I really don't think you do," Hugh
said, in a matter-of-fact way. "I quies
tion very much if you .would have come
roundiout of your taint before I could
have brought help from Barmouth. How
ever, of course, 1 acted for the best, and
it avoided all risk. There was no danger
in getting down to you; the little one and
1 shpped down as easily as possible.
If I thought you were going to tell me
e' to-morrow that you were very grateful,
or anything of that sort, I give you my
honor I should go right away by the coach
Trhe g ielt by the tone of Ihngh's voice,
Ithat there was no affectation aot him;
.that ho really meant what he said.
"I may just say 'thank you,' now? " she
"y Yes, just 'thank you, ' " he said light
"If I were a man you would shako hand.
over it?" the girl asked.
"Yes," Hugh said..
"Please give me your hand."
-He stooped down, and she put her hand
"Thank you," in a deep, quiet, earnest
Then as lhe rose again, she wont on, in a
Nsow mind, it is a bargain. ,iWe have
shaken hands on it. I am not to be grate
ful, and you are not to be pfraid of me, but
-are just to be as natural -withi me M with'
"That is a bargain," Hugh said, with
a laugh. "I don't think I shall tfeelshy
with you in the future I nevet talk'ed
so much with a woman in my life. I sup
pose it's because I can't see your face."
"I don't know whether to take that for
a compliment or the reovers Amf laugh
"The reverse, of course," Hugh said,
laughing, too; "compliments are not In my
line. Ab, her9 they are with the rope.
They have beebl precious quick about it."
And Ainy Hetbert felt there was a real
compliment in the tones in which he spoke.
"Now you must wake Ida. How soundly
she sleepsi Now let me help you on to
Even with the aid of the rova it was a
work of considerable difficulty to get Amy
Herbert up to thet op of the slope; for she
was weak and shaken, and unable to do
much to help herseilf. At last it was
managed; and then she was helped down
a steep path close by the road below,
where a carriage from the hotel was waiting
"Will you come up and see my aunt?"
Amy asked, as they stopped at the door.
"Not to-night, thank you. I will come
in the morning to see how you are after the
shake; and, please," he said, "tell your
aunt of our bargain. It would be awful to
come up to be thanked."
"(Good night," the girl said. I won't
forget. Come early. - Now, Ida, come
along you will soon be in bed."
Two months later Mr. Herbert was walk
ing up and down his breakfast-room In a
towering passion. Amy was sitting in a
"It to monstrous, It is incredible," Mr.
Herbert exclaimed. "Here you, for whom
I have looked for a capital match, who re
fused three of the very best men in the dis
trict last year, are away for two months
and a half. at this beggarly Welsh village,
and you come back and deliberately tell
me that you have engaged yourself to an
artist, a follow I never heard of."
"Dear old daddy," Amy sai quietly,
"don't get angry about it. Come and sit
down and talk it over reasonly, as you al
ways do things with me."
"No, no, Amy. I know what your
reasonable talking means. I am not to be
coaxed or wheedled or made a fool of. It's
all very well when you want a pair of new
ponies or anything of that kind you have
set your nmind on, but there is a limat to
"Well, but we must talk the question
"Not at all, not at all; no talk Is neces
sary. You tell me you want to narry this
fortune-hunting artist. I say at once I
wOn't hear of It; that it's out of the ques
tion that .1 will not hear a single word
about such a ridiculo'us affair."
"Now, why ehould you call him a for
tune-hunter ?" Amy said, seizing at once
upon the 'weak point. "He has not an
Idea that there is any fortune in the case.
He saw me staying In poky lodgings at
Bartouth, and, beyond the fact that I live
at Manchester, he knows nothing. le
tells me that he has enough for us to live
on very quietly, in addition to his profes
sion. 8o, yo- sea he can't be called a
"Well, well, it makes no matter. The
thing Is monstrous, and I wil not bear of
"Well, daddy, I will do just as you like,
and I won't say any more about it' now;
but, of course,' to-morrow I must talk
about It, because it is out of the question
that I should break my word which I have
given, and should make him unhappy, and
be awfully unhappy myself. So I shall
have to talk about him, and yoa will have
to listen"-the father had sat down now
"because thougb, as my papa, you have a
perfect right to say, '1 will not condent to
your marrying this man,' still you know, I
must talk about a thing which is making
me very unhappy. And it will be so much
better *nd nicer, daddy," and she went
over to him now'and sat herself down on
his knee, with her arm around his neck,
"if you give in at once. Because, you
know, you can't keep in a naughty temper
with me long; and besides. you would be
very unhappy if I was unhappy; and at
last., you know very well, you will have to
give up being cruel and cross, and will tell
me to be happy my own way..
"Amy," her fatiger'said, trying to look
very ster-n, "I have spoiled you; I have
allowed you to tyrannize over me. "
"No, daddy, I can't allow that-cer
tainly not tyrannize. I have lcd you for
your own good, and you have been as
happy as the day is long
"And now," he continued, Ignoring the
protest, "I am to reap the reward of my
folly. That you should have mnarried a
first-rate man of business I shougd have
been &ontented. But an artistl"
"Well, daddy, we wont talk any more
about It to-day. Now I'll ~just sniooth
those naughty wrinkles, and I'11 hIss you
on each cheek and In the middle of your
nose. There, now It looks like Itself.
There I ten o'clock striking, and you not
off I Mind I shall expect you up to lun
Bo Mr. Herbert went off shaking his
'head, and although still determIned, yet at
heart very doubtful as to his power of re
sistance. Amy went to her special sae
turn, and wrote her first letter to Hugh.
The following sentences show that she had
no doubt whatever on tlie subject:
"Daddy coes not take' quite- .kindly to
the notion as yet. lie aloesn't know you,
you see,and it has of course come up on him
a little suddenly, but he is 'the very best
and kindest of all the daddies in the world,
and in a very few dlays lhe will see It in
quite the right lght. It Is no use your
writing or coining -to me here till lie is
quite reasonable: but I expect by this day
week to hasvt everything arranged. .1 w Ill
let you know what train to. eine by, and
will meet you at the station."
It is to be presumed that Amy thorough
ly understood her father; but at any rate, it
was exactily that day week that Hugh
Carson, havlng obeyed instructions, and
got out at the station directed, five miles
from Manchcater, was a little surprised and
miuch disappointed at not seeing her upon
"Your luggage, sirn Are you the gen
tlemen for the Haewthorns? Very well, sir,
I will send up~ the portnmanteau; Miss. Hier
bert la in the~ pony-carriage."
"Bless me, Amyi, Hugh said, after the
first greeting, as they drove off, "yon~ used
to talk about your pony-srap. buit this turn
mt is jpretty enough to attract attention In
th3 patk. Alny!' and he looked at he:
with a puzzled glance, "you're not a swell,
are yVou ?-because that would be dread.
"Well, Hugh, If being a swell means
having lets of money, I suppose I am one,
for daddy has lots 11pon lots. lie's got
cotton-mills, you know. But there's noth -
ing dreadful in that."
"You ought to have told me, Amy,"
Hugh said, a little gravely.
"Paa si bets," the girl said. "In the
Orst MlaAe It Ak nina to that yon toll in
love with me without knowing whether I
had a halfpennyt In the second place, youi
would be very likely have run away it you
had thought Iwasrich;and to know tellyou
the truth, Master Hugh, I had no idea of
lettim you run away. There, Hugh,
there a the house; lan't .it pretty ?"
. "It's almost a palace," Hugh said in
"Yes; and there's papa at the door wait
ing to greet you. Vow, look quite plea
sant and bright, Hugh, for, of course, I
want him to like you almost as nuch as I
A noted duel occure at Paris in the
winter of 1858-59, between Count Trepan.
co, a Neapolitan nobleman, and the Mar
quis do Pierrefonds. The Marquis had
presented to a young woman of the demi
monde a vase of cardenias of unique beauty.
On the same evening he accompanied her
to a ball, which, by the way, was given by
the notorious Merope larucci. While
dancing the lanciers with the girl, the Mlar
quis noticed in the sanie set a handsome
youth. lie wore a cardenia in his button
hole. Ile questioned his partner, and was
satisfied that she had given the flower to the
Italian. He went straight to the Count
and tore the flower fiom his breast. A
challenged followed. Pistols were select
ed. Twelve shots were excbanged, at a
distance of twenty feet, without a result.
The Italian insisted on continuing the duel,
saying that he could not be an actor in a
farce. At tbe thirtaenth shot he received a
bullet in his heart, and expired. In his
testamentary letter lie entreated, in case he
should be killed,that the Marquis do Pierre
fonds would place upon his cold heart the
cardenia which had been the caue of the
strife. Six months later Pierrefonds, wlto b
was aid de-camp to General l'Espinasso, c
was entering a village during the battle of
Magenta. The first shot from the neigh
boring houses struck him in the heart,mak
Ing a wound identical to that received by
the Italian Count. The dry icaves of a
cardenial were found in an envelope above
the dead Marquis' heart.
A bouquet of violets was the cause of a
fatal duel. The young Count de.Beignelay,
attache to the French Legation at the
Hague, was visiting Brussels. The youth- c
ful diplomat had been desperately in love 8
with Diane do Chianceray, a beautiful we
naa. One evening, as the Count was wit -
nessing a performance at the Theater de ]a f
Monnaie,he saw her, covered with diamonds
and laces, in a box with - the Prince do *
Klostercamp. The heart of the young
lover beat violently. All the souvenirs of i
his former happiness flashed before him. e
Diane grew paler than the lace she wore. (
She leveled her opera glass at him, and t
kept it fastened upon him for a long time. h
Then she tore a bouquet of violets from c
her bosom and began to kiss and bite them.
They gazed at each other like Italian j
lovers. As the performance was drawing I
to a close she arose to depart. Beignelay r
placed himself in the loyer at the foot of 9
the marble staircase. He requested a friend j
who was acquainted with Prince Kloster
camp to engage him In conversation for a e
moment, so as to give him an opportunity r
to exchange a few words with the lady.
His friend Fervadyues did so. * Diane af
ter kissing the violets thrust them beneath a
the open vast of the young lover. Tho
Prince, however, saw the action. Next i
morning two of his friends called on the
atacho with a challenge. :A duel fol'owed. r
Swords were the weapons. Seignelay was ,
pierced through the heart after five assaults.
and expimd in the arms of his friends, ut
tering the name of Diane. le was buried
in a cemetery near Brussels. Two years
later the witer visited the cemetery and
saw a bouquet of fresh violets on the stone
that nirrked his grave.
A Dathain the Dead Uea.
Greatly relieved and -refreshed, we pur.
sued our journey. As we canme in sight of<
the Dead Sea we noticed that peculiar hazy I
appearance of the atmosphere, reminding
us of Indian summer in our own country,
and we found ourselves subject to th~at<
singular optiCal delusion sometimes pro-<
duced by a very transparent and highly
rarefied atmosphere, in which distant ob
ject. appear quite near. At a certamn
point, when we were, some five distant, it
seemed as if we were within half a mile of 1
the shore. Reaching, at length, this most
remarkable of all the seas and lakes on our
globe, we prepared to take a bath-and i
such a bath 1 can hardly expect ever to<
take again. I haid previously bathed in
numerous seas, lakes, and rivers, but never1
did I ejoy such a bath as this. 'rThe ape
cine gravity of the water is such, from its
holding in solution so large a proportion of i
salts, (twenty-six and a half per cent.) I
that one float.. upon the surface like a cork.
At the time there was only a gentle ripple I
upon the sea, and being a good swImmer I<
at once struck out into dsep water. I soon
fnund out that I could swim and float with<
wonderful ease, and that I could actually .m
walk in the water, siinking only to the arm- I
pite, Discovering this fact, 1 made for
theshore, and taking Dr. C., one of the<
party, who could not swim, by the hand,i
led him out into the sea where the water
was many fathoms deep. At first he was
quite reluctant to fellow me, but he soon
gained confidence on fiuding there was no
danger of sinking, and he enjoyed the nov
el bath as much as If he had been an expert
Their diet is simple but sufficient. Pork
is never eaten, and only a part of the Shaker
people eat any meat at all. Many use no
food produced by animals denying them.
selves even' butter, milk and eggs. At
Mcunt Lebanon, and in some of the other
societies, -two tables are, set, the one with,
the other without meat. They consume
much fruit eating it at every meal ; and
they have it always fine and extensive
vegetable gardens and orchards. Father
Evans (the Shakers call him Elder Evans,
but we like father better), now about
seventy years old, and at the head of one
braach of the Shaker community at Leba
non, has not caten flesh for neatly forty
years. and he is halo and hearty, much
more so than most men of his age; yet
whon he commenced lia vegetable diet he
was in a declining state of health; asho tells
us, "a et.ndidate for consumption.''
THiE greatest gain from sheep hus
bandry is in saying as much as yiossi
ble or labor and loas in management of
the dock, and much disappointment
and discouragemenmt will fotiow early
lambing of ewes if comfhortable quar
tarsa nnd gooenar. are watit ung.
A Remarkabte Drem.
Two ladles, sisters, and been for several
lays in attendance upon their brother, who
was ill with a common sore throat-oevere
kud protracted; but not considered as at.
ended with any danger. At the same
ime one of them had borrowed a watch
rrom a female friend, in consequence of her
>wn being under repair. The watch was one
o which particular value was attached, on
ccount of family associations; and some
mailety was expressed that it might not
neet with any injury. The sisters were
fleeping together, in a rooga conimunicating
with that of their brother, when the elder
>f them awoke in a state of great agitation;
mad having aroused the other, told her that
the had a frightful dream. "I dream't,"
ihe'said, "that Mary's watch stopped; and
hat, when I told you.of the circumstance,
rou replied, 'Much worse than that has
iappened. for James's breath has stopped
lso!'" naming their* brother who was ill.
l'o quiet her agitation, the younger slater
minediately got up, and found the brother
ileeping quietly; and the watch which had
)cen carefully pat up in a drawer, going
worrectly. The following night the same
iream occurred, followed by similar agita
ion, which was again composed in the
ame manner; the brother be
ng again found in a quiet
leep, and the watch going well. On
he following morning, soon after the family
reakfasted, one of the sisters was sitting
iy her brother, and the qther was writing
note in the adjoining rogm. When her
iote was ready for being' sealed, she was
iroceeding to take out for this purpose the
vatch above alluded to which had been
>ut by in her writing-desk, when she was
slonished to find it had stopped; and at
lie same instant she heard a scream of in
ense distress from her sister in the other
oom. Their brother, whp had still been
onsidered as going on favorably, had been
eized with a sudden fit of suffocation and
ad just breathed his last.
Sophie Potockle was born in Pera. Her
arents were of Greek extraction, and
losely allied to the distinguished families
,f Ghika and Maurokordatos. But they
were then impoverished; and Sophie was
arning a livelihood in a coffee house. Here
lie attracted the attention of Boskanmp,
he Polish ambassador. Some writers say
hat Boakamup had received private orders
rom Stanislaus Augustus to bring home
vith him a beautiful Greek girl; others
asert that it was his own conception
s take her to Stanislaus, knowing well
ow acceptable such a gift would be. How.
ver that may be, he purchased the young
Ireck girl of her parents for 1,500 plas
ers-equivalent to $75-and started with
or for Poland. For some reason he was
,11ged to leave Sophie in Chozim, a hon
ler town, while he hurried to Warsaw.
icr picture, however, he carried with
im. Youtig men quickly learn of the ar.
Ival in their neighborhood of a pretty
Irl. De Witt, son of the commander of
[aminenec, was among thQ first to visit the
oung beauty. Their acquaintance ripen
ned ifrto love, and led to a secret mar
lsgc. The father of De Wittlearning of the
mr. lago, hastened afterhis son,arrested him
ud put him in irons, swearing he would
ot release him until he had promised to
lve up Sophie. Hereupon the young wife
hrow herself at the feet of the angry father,
rho, won by her looks and tears, finally
elented. Sophie n-'w saught to fit herself
or her new position in life. She became
, good linguist, and accomplished in many
in Paris, which city she often visited
vitli her husband, she wasgreatly admired,
ounting among ler conquests the subse.
uent King Louis XVII. At last her
iusband became jealous and treated her with
uch harshness and severity that she fled
o Constantinople. After a tinme, however,
reconcilation was brought about, and she
onsented to return to Poland. There she
>assed five or six uneventful years. In
788 she 'went with her husband to
Varsaw. Years had only added to her
harms. In Warsaw every one was intoxi
ated with her beauty. Whenever she sp
eared in society the guests mounted chairs
ad tables to gaze upon her. She was
ailed the ''Godess of Beauty" and the
'Grecian Venus." The intimacy between
ter and Count Potocki dates from this visit.
i'ehx Potocki was born in 1758; at Krys
ynopol, one of the many estates of his
ather. Ho grew up under the supervision
f hIs mother and the instruction of the
>anist. Wolff. in 1770 the Turks, then
raging war in Europe, threatened to de
troy Krystynopol. Felix, a lad of 17
ears, under the plea of a necessity for
modily exercise, obtained permission of his
athor to oversee the frontier guard. ils
~cuthful fancy had been caught by the
mrtty face and graceful figure of the
laughter o'f a neighboring Casteilan. The
var, however, had interupted their inter
ourse. His new military duty would
hlow thae young man frequent opportuni.
les of meeting this girl, and of arranging
Ssecret marriage without the knowledge
>t either parents. The CJastellan belonged
o the middle order of nobility: conse
luently, a marriage between the two fami
tes could not but be regarded by the
P'otokis as most derogatory to their
)ride and position. Count Potocki
ad also other views for hise son. A din
iraguished lady, Castellanin Mnizech, had
roposed a betrothal between her daughter,
losephine, and time young count. When,
few months later, Count Potocki learned
>f the marriage of his eon his indignation
moew no bounds. Threats of violence to
iumself and his young wife led Felix, in a
nonment of weakness, to consent to a sep.
uration. He hoped thereby, to ward off a
peater danger to his wife. His submis
ion was, however, of no avail. Count
Potoki ordered the Coseacks to make a
aught assault on the house of the.
Jastellan and carry off the daughter.
I'ho young wife was torn from her bed at
midnight, hurried into a sledge and driven
towards Krystynopol. A long train of
licavily-laden carts barred the way and
ecimpelled a halt. The Cossacks, fearing
heir prisoner's call for help would betray
them, sought to suppress her cries by
stifling them with wraps and cushions.
When, finally, the road was cleAr and they
luad removed the wrappings which they
had wound about her head, the young wife
was found to be dead. To remove all
traces of their guilt the Cossack. cut a hole
in the ice of a near stream, into which they
thrust the body of their victim.
The blow fell heavily on Felix. In the
first moment of despair he sought to take
his own life. Frustrated in this, he sank
into a satet of nrofondr ,nelancholy. He
never recovered entirely from the shock.
His character changed. He grew moody,
unsocial ano gloomy. He married the
sme Josephine whom his father had chosen
as a bride for him. This marriage entered
Into with little love or inclination, proved
far from happy. Josephine was gifted
with bodily and mental charms, which
kept her husband faithful to her for a time.
She, however, was not equally faithful to
him. Still their life was outwardly calm
and peaceful until 1782, when political
business drew Count Potocki toJassy. Here
he again met Sophie, at that time a visitor
of Potembin, and here matters came to a
crisir. Although Potocki was over 40 years
and the father of a large family,he became
so infatuated with Sophie that he resolved
for her sake, to seek a separation from his
wife. Negotiations were entered into with
De Witt, who readily consented, for a
stipulation, to give up Sophia. Once more
the bca utiful woman was sold. We
are not this time made acquainted with
the terms'of agreement. Apparendy the
lovely Greek was not averse to an arrange
ment which gave her for a husband one of
the wealthiest noblemen of Poland. The
marriage, howevei, was not consummated
until the year following. The bishop
dierakowski, influenced, It is is said, by
bribes, dissolved the tie which bound him
to Josephine. Sophie was likewise freed
from obligations to her husband. The
newly-married pair departed for Hamburg,
where they renaiued several years. On
his return to his native land Potocki de
voted himseli to the creation of that bit of
of fairy land, that lasting monument of lils
infatuation for the beautiful woman, then
his wife, that celebrated sp.t which bears
her name, "Sofijowka." Out of a barren
waste, upon which 10.000 laborers were
employed,grew this beautiful country seat,
which even to this day is the admiration
of all visitors. The immense parks, the
artificial lakes, rocks, streams and woods
have often been described by travelers and
immortalized by the Polish poet Trembecki
in his poems entitled "Sonijowka.'t In this
spot, apsoi'bed in his love for his wife,
Potocki passed the last 10 years ol his life.
Here his Nemesis met him. Potocki's
eldest son, likewise called Felix, had been
banished by the czar from St. Petersburg
on account of his enormous debts. His
father not only paid these debts amounting
to two millions, but gave his son the con
trol of two large estates. In return, Felix,,
the younger, rewarded lils father by win.
ning the affections of his stepmother. The
connection between the two lasted many
years. When at last discovered by Count
Potocki it Is said to have hastened his
death, which took place at Bolijowka in
1805. Sophie inherited one-half of her
husband's estates and continued to live at
Sofiljowka with her five children, leading
an active, hospitable and apparently res
pectable life. Her house was thronged
with guests and admirers. She died in
Berlin in 1828.
The snow was falling fast, and Isaac Si)
berstein was slowly making his way
fhrough the pelting storm. His melodious
cry of "Ece-chaw-glass-pud-in" sounded
inugled, and he staggered under the weight
f his trame of window-glass, which he had
carried all the way from Bayard street.
Patrick McGuire, one of the laborers on
the Elevated Railroad, had been into
Henry Knubel's saloon 'to warm his heart
with a hot whisky, and emerging, crowbar
in hand stepped on a large coal-grating In
front of the door. Isaac also stepped oi
the grating. In the next moment an in
stantaneous change took place in the posi
tion of the parties. Isaac lay prone on
the snow,while on the other side of the
grating Patrick floundered like a fish out
of water, In their sudden fall the crow
bar collided with the glass frame, and
poor Isaac's stock in trade lay shattered
around. The crowbar flying off at a tan
gent made a Bodmne bull's-eye In the crown
of Pat's rall hat. When they regained
their feet, Isaac and Patrick looked wildly
around and glared fiercely at each other.
lesen ejaculated, "Mine Gott, my glass;
fehr dollar, fehr dollar," and Patrick re
Bpendent, "Bad luck attend ye; luk at my
An officer came up, and Isaac, said that
Pat tripped him up ,with the crowbar.
Pat was taken into custody, andi Isaac,
carefully gathering up the fragments of
glass, followed hin to Court to obtain his
Pat was all indignation, Isaac all suavity.
"Will you swear," said the Court, "that
be tripped you up with the crowbar?"
"I bring a hundred thousand vitness,",
answered I sane promptly.
"Thin, why don't ye bring themi" said
Patrick. "It's a lie lie's telling, lie
shiipped on the gratin' and stumibled
against me, and I fell with him. it was
all his own fault, and he ought to pay me
for me hat.
"Conitrtbutiveneghgence is the defense,"
said the Court, "and I never knew any
one obtain damages against a railroad coin
pany when that defense was set up. This
court cannot on the evidence furnmsh a
precedent in so important a matter. Isaac,
I don't bellieve Patrick tripped you up
with the crowbar. Patrick, what county
are you from?
Patrick (promptly)- "County West
meath, your hionor."
The Court-"The finest wrestlers in Ire
land. Isaac, ho would have used his foot
instead of the crowbar. Sue him for dam
ages. Pati ck you are discharged."
Then they stood on the sidewalk, Patrick
gazing at the hole in his hat, and Isaac
contemplating sadly the wreck of matter
and the crash of glass which Patrick's
crowbar had created.
The whole number of Indians In the
United States, except Alaska, is li.aced at
250,884, though it is obvious that the enu
meration of the.savage tribes is guess work
merely. The number of Indians who wear
citizen's dress is given at 127,458. In 1808
the number of Indians who occupied houses
was 8,048. In the decade this has been
increased to 28.000. 'rho number of In
dian schools Is 866, more than doulile the
number of ten years ago, and .the pupils,
increasing In like proportion, number 12,
122. The amount spent on ed~ucation is
given as $858, 125. The number of In
dIans who can read is given as 41,809. The
church membership ladoludes 80,000. Pas
toral and agricultural products have greatly
increased within the decade. For instance,
in 1888 the number of sheep owned was
7,910; in 1878, 894,574. The statistics
t&ro drawrn oqiefly from the Indian Terri
tory, though they profess to cover the entire
Tattooed by Savages.
Alonzo Hewitt, belonged to the crew of
the ship Angellea, which went ashore
during a severe gale on the Patagonian
coast. The vessel was manned by thirteen
men, all of whom were captured by the
savages and taken into the interior. The
men were separated from each other and
alven to different native chiefs as slaves.
Mr. Hewitt never knew what became of
his shipmates. lie was taken by a savage
named Minehoo, and compelled to carry
heavy loads of provisions and hunting
materials on long journeys. At night his
hands would be tied behind his back, and
one end of the leathern thong was fastened
to tree, so that he could not run away.
No knife or shaip instrument )f any kind
was left within his reach, and he was as
effectually a prisoner as though he had
been locked up within strong walls. The
whole story of his troubles and sufferings
while in the hands of the savages would t
fill a whole volume, but the most interest
ing portion, which can be confined to the
limits or newspaper account, is his ac- t
count of the manner In which he was tat- I
tooed by the Patagoians.
Almost the entire surface of Mr. Hewitt's|4
body is covered with indellible representa- I
tions of beasts, birds and reptiles. He I
said that tho savages occupied over a
month's time in making these unique pi. -
tures. A preparation in many respects re
sembling India ink, was used, and the
method of producing the pictures was to t
puncture the skin with the points of small
fish bones, and then rub the ink upon the
wound thus produced. The ink thus pro
duced a dlicoloration of the skin that can
never ne effaced.
"What caused the Patagonlans to mark t
yon in this manner?" inquired the report
"I presume, the chief who hold me cap
tive wanted to disfigure me for the amuse
ment of himself and his associates," was
"'t hen you do not think the chief meant t
to punah you?'"
"Not especially. In my mind he wished a
to display the artistic skill of one of his r
young braves in the pictorial line. lie un
doubtedly regarded my skin in much the e
same light that a painter does the white
canvas. I was a good groundwork for or- it
"Was the chief proud of you after the t
work was done?" b
"He was, indeed. I was taken about
among the people and exhibited to admir- v
Ing eyes. The young men and maidens I
would point at the pictures and then o
look at each other and smile.
Older savages would admire me by the a
hour, and I was one of the greatest objects I
of interest in Patagonia." n
"Do you know the meaning of the plc- e
"I only know that the pictures represent y
beasts, birds an-l reptiles; but why they n
were selected as subjects, bufles my com- t
prehension. 1 suppose that I am a sort of r
Patagonian obelisk and although unlike the
Alexandrian monolith, I am not 8000 or
4000 years old, I perhaps represent relig- a
Ious ideas and historical facls."
The tattooed man brushed his locks of r
shaggy hair back from his forehead, and u
disc!osed a blue-and-yellowish representa
tion of a bird. Although the bird hasout t
stretched wings and beak and claws like e
an eagle, it is far from being a good repro- y
sentation of the glorious American bird of
freedom. On either side of the man's face
is a bird that looks more like a young a
chicken than anything else. Lengthwise e
on the nose is a tiny picture of a blue snake n
with red eyes. A red snake with blue
eyes encircles the man's neck. Rolhng ip
his sleeves and baring lils arms, Mr. Hewitt
exhibited pictorial representations of more
than a dozen different kinds of animals.
Sdome of them resembled goats, others
3she1p and foxes. There were animals
with horns and others without horns.
There was a singular looking creature that
remInded. the reporter of a centaur, above
the elbow of the right armb. There were
more figures on the left arm than on the
right one. Trho total number of distinct
pictures on the man's body, he said, wasa
183. Only three colors are shown-rcd, '0
blue and yellow. The inks were obtained 'C
by pressing the juIce from vegetables and
milxing it with fine earthy pigments. Mr.
Hewitt thinks that time inks were of a
poisonous nature, because they caused the CI
limbs to swell to twice their normal sIze
while the pictures were beIng made. I
A Daboon Dinner Episode.
Bishop Colenso gives this incident in the
early lite of a lsouth AmerIcan baboon.
Thlere is somethhiig quaintly human about
it: "It was a hot day and a number of a
baboons were sunning themselves along i
time b~ottomi of the i Donga. They lay upon r
their backs with haif closed eyes, rubbing a
their stonmachis in a state of placid enjoy- C
mont. Two or three young baboons had
wandered a little distance down the i 1
Donga, searching for scorpions from stone t
to stone just below them. They were not C
very successful, and it did not appear that '
their movements were of much concern to a
their eld rs. Presently, however, one of
the you dkones, turning up a stone, lit -
upon a p~articlar fine and iat scorpion,
wimch, with a furitive glance around at his
elders, lie seized and put into his mouth, i
havimg first pinched 01! the sting. He at
once proceeded to turn the stone over again
wita~ great assiduity, als though in further i
unsuccessful search for scorpions. He had I
not escaped notice,ii ->wever, for down the'
guiiy in a sluggleal s ame a gretbaboon '
who seized tile young one by the muff of
the neck, shaking hin vigorousiy until the
plump morsel dropped from his pouch.1
Having gobbled this up, the elder baboon
at once regained hisi lounge, and all went
on as before in theosleepy holiow."
The Number of Plants.
In the Bible about 100 plants are alluded
to; Hippocrates mentioned 288; Theo
p~hrastu~s 500 and Pliny 800. From this
lime thieie was little addition- until the
llenaissance. In the beginning Qf the fif
teenth century Oesner could only enumer
ate 800 butat its close Bauhin described
6,000. Tournefort in 1894 recognized 10,
156 specIes ; but Linnmus, in the next cen
tury working inore cautiously, defined only
7.294. In the beglaning of this century,
iri 1805 Persoon described 25,000 species,
comprising, however, numerous minute
fungi. In 1819 Do Candolle estimated tihe
known speeies at 80,000. Loudon in 1889~
gave 81,781 speoles; in 1848 Professor
Lindley gave 80,88'7, but in 1858 these had
inoroeed to 92,920. A t present the known
nsiare. qstiiateat 1aM ana
FOOD FOR TJIOUGHT.
This single wood, this single object,
The Cross, may sufflice to make
Uhristians, and without it nothing sut
Take the good with the evil, for ye
il are the pensioners of God. and none
may choose or refuse the cup his wis
A man has right to occupy such
ligh moral grounds that he to
)onstantly so far above his follows that
1e can be of no earthly assistance to
If you would be pungent, be brief;
'or It is with words as with sunbeame
-he more they are condensed, the
leeper they burn.
The'proud have no friends; not in
3rosper ity, for then they know nobody;
ind not in adversity, for no one kaows
It may serve as a comfort to us in all
our calamities and afflictions that he
hat lose. anything and gels wisdon by
Slis a gainer by the loss.
We think the poorest' way to obtain
uch a Sabbath as we Deed, is to create
he impression that all Christians have
Piven up the desire for it.
1appiness is like a sunbeam, which
he least shadow intercepts, while ad
ersity is often as the rain of Spring.
All errors spring up in the neighbor
tood of some truth; they grow round
bout it, and for the most part derive
heir strength from such contiguity.
It is only by labor that thought cn
>* made healthy, and only by thought
hat labor can be made happy, and
he two cannot .S separated with Im
A smile is ever the most bright and
eautiful with a tear upon it. What is
he dawn without its dew? The tear
s rendered by the smile precious above
he smile itself.
The best prayer at the beginning of
he day is that we may not lose its mo
nents; and tine best grace before meat
the conseclousness that we have justly
arned our dinner.
There is atrue a holy triumph in the
ieekness that takes the rebuffs of Satan
nd lis agents,as in the shout by which
lie Jerico o-walls to our enemy tum
le into irretrievable ruins.
Vain-glorious men are the scorn of
Piee men, the admiration of fools, the
lois of p-trasites and the slaves of their
How many days of anxious care it
rould save us, to remember that soon
will not matter which way this
latter, whatever it may be, Is do.
A leading elocutionist once said to a
oung preacher:-"I can do nothing
iore for you. All that you need now
) make you a power is some greatsor
Do not be miserable money-grabbers
r sordid earth-wormia; do not be plea
ure-hunters and novelty-seekers, do
ot set your affection upon these child
in's toys which will be so soon broken
You have only one life of probation
live and the magnitude of its value
o mnortil o1n compute. If you are wise
ru will refleem, the time with every
Affilitions are the medicine of the
kind. If they are not toothsome let It
Jiflle that, they are wholesome. It is
ot required in physic that it should
lease, but heal.
The slanders of libellers may be com
ared to tuller's earth, which though
may seem dirt to you at first, only
-aves you more pure and spotless when
is rubbed oiF.
What unthankfulniess it is to for'get
ur consolations, and to luok only upon
latters of grievance; to think so much
pon two or three crosses as to forget a
Thme sorrows of a noble mind are
pring frosts which precede the sum
aer ; those of a corrupt and contraoted
ne are the autumn frosts which are
allowed only by winter.
Tile volume of antiquity,like medala,
may very well serve to amuse the curl
us;i but the works of the moderns,
ke the current coin of a kingdom, are
inch bettor for immediate use.
If a man used the same energy to pay
ack what he borrowed as lhe did to bor
ow it, people would havena better opin
>n of each other, and there would be
sas paper goIng to protest,
Be not diverted from your duty by
ny idle reflections Lime silly world may'
make upon you, for their censures are
ot in your power and consequently
hould not be any part of your con
God walks with the simple; ho re
eals himself to the lowly ; he gives
nderstanding to the little ones ; -he
iaoloses his meaning to pure minds,
nd hides his grace from the curious
Swift's maxim in conversation was; *
-Take as many half minutes as you'
an get, but never talk more thas
alt a minute without pausing and
lying others an opportunity to strike
The virtuous man is a lover of his
ace, merciful and inclined to pardon,
nd never bears ill-wall toward any .
can whatever, but thinks it right to
urpass in doing gooli rather than in
Prayer Is the comcentrating of all
he energies of body, mind and soul in
'no struggle for the Gospel's rescue.
to man offers that earnest prayer but
ae finds Christ, and ho finds him
Niever fail to speak kindly. If a
nerchant, and you address your clerk;
f an overseer, and you address your
workman ; in any position where you
ixeroise authority, you show yourself
.o be a gentleman by your pleasant
node of address.
rrayer is the key to open the day,
mnd the bolt to shut in the night. But
is the clouds drop the early dew and
he evening dew upon the grass, yet 1t
would not spring and grow green by
~hat constant and double i alhing of the
hew, unless some great shower at cer
adn seasons did supply the rest; so the
mastomnary devotion of prayer twice a
iay, is the failing of the early and later
ie w. But if you will increase and Sour
sh in works of grace, and let thorm fall
in a great shower of' prayer, choose
iut seasons when p~rayor aball overdlow
like Jordan lin time of huarvest,