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The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, October 11, 1882, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/2012218613/1882-10-11/ed-1/seq-1/

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"When the Frost is on the Puntin. |
When the frost is on the ponkin and the fodder]s4n
the shock,
Andyoanear thekyouck and gobble of the
- /stnittin' turkey cock,
^ Ai$d the clackin' of the gniney3 and the ;
cluckin' of the hen?,
^ And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on
the fence,
mL Oh it's then the times a feller is a feelin' a
wgjfljfch his best,
fvVith the.risin' sun to greet him from a night
: of gracious rest,
As he leaves the house bareheaded and goes
out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkrn and the fodder's
in the shock.
They's somepin kind a' hearty like about the
"When the heat o' summer's over and the
coolin' fall is here?
Of course we miss the flowers and the blos*
' som on the trees,
A Wi r aV _ t ^
oiiu uic uiuiuuia uj. tno uuiminn uirus ana
buzzin' of the bee?;
Bet the air's so appetizin', and the landscape
through the haze ;
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the early
autumn days # j
Is a picture that no painter has the colorin'
? to mock?
When the frost is on the punkin and the fod- j;
der's in the shock. 11
j 1
The husky, rustle rustle of the tossels of the ; com,
l\' And the rasnin' of the tangled leaves, as ' 1
L V golden as the morn; ) t
^ ^ The stubble in the fairies, kind o' lonesome <
C. like, but still <
p. A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they .]
. growed to fill: <
The strawstack in the medder and the reaper
in the shed; I
The hosses in their stalls below, the clover *
overhead; f
^ Oh it sets my heart a clickin'. like the tickin' c
*'. ofaclock, I
When the frost is cti the punkin . ad the fod- A
der's in the shock! ^
?Indianapolis Journal. C
-= - r
There is&s no getting away from
the heat that day, although I had pene- ^
^ trated into woodland glooms; the ^
fierce sun seemed to heat into the Sl
heart of the forest with shafts of fire.
The very ferns about me curled their ^
leaves, the dry air seemed to pulsate, n
and the little stream tinkled along in a a:
warm, complaining way. Under green p
overarching boughs I was stretched
out on the wan tliin grass reading Lord lc
juuneruu s "L-etiers irora liign i^ati-1 e;
j-. tudes," as something eminently adapted j S
to soothe the heated victim of the dog n
days. Sometimes my fancy returned ! h
from those limitless fields of ice to the b<
present, and I longed for a fragment b:
of one of those cold opaline icebergs ft
to cool my parched tongue. Suddenly
I was aware of other rustlings in the fz
neighborhood stronger than that stirred gj
by languid breezes over weary leaves, w
A soft swish of silken mate&5? and a hi
girlish giggle betrayed the vicinity of
Minnie Brice, a pretty little blonde, b(
with an inane face and a tendency to a
flirtation with anv available subject. I
* remained perdu, 'it was too warm for I
" And she has the golden hair," in
Bp answered her companion. "I saw some ^
*" of Lucretia Borgia's, and it was just n(
* the "same color." m
"Nonsense," said Minnie. "Why,
mv haiVc <rnlden. I don't think that's ^
anything?" JJ
" Xo ; you are the lassie with the
lint white locks," laughed the other ; w
" but this sort of hair is like the red, ^
red gold, and goes with those very
soft velvet black eyes like Miss Dun- f
bar s." " {(
\ My heart gave a sudden throb. s"
She has plenty of money, and, oh ! j
don't her diamonds make my heart I
ache; but I wouldn't take them and
her conscience into the bargain?would ,
you, Gussie?" asked the girl, with ^
another giggle.
""What is the mystery about her? 01
I wish we could get at the true in- Ilj
wardness of it," answered Gussie. x
" Whv, tHev do sav she has murdered
* - * i w
two husbands, first getting tneir lives ]
insured for a large suni," answered !
Minnie. ! [
u Oh, nonsense! She is Miss Dim-1 n
bar." !n,
> t]
" Oh, well, she might have got a ;
divorce from the last man." I
"But, don't you see, if she was ^
divorced she had" no object in murder- .
ing him, and if she murdered him she 11
^^had no object in getting divorced?" u
vp At this the two girls burst into as ^
, f merry a peal of laughter as if they had *
j' ^ been discussing the most innocent: *
z* ? f/vnift in thA -wnrld-while I lav smashing!
r*' 0 AM WMV - v.- w ^
& my teeth in ineffectual rage, for Miss j a
f Dun^r was the woman I loved. I i ^
h^SSRfrer told her so. I had to admit a
* that there was a mysterious atmos,
? phere of melancholy about her that a
ke.pt me Out of the pale. She lived !'
with a rough-featured, taciturn Scotchwoman,
as her companion, and her
chief sin was that she made no female ^
?? friends. She had a handsome estab- I
lishment and a pretty turnout, in which v
she drove, with a Skye terrier for ! &
company?a pert little lump of intel- j
ligence, who had the good sense to ap- j I
prove of me. I had met her at all the | c
festivities of this summer resort and I
her melancholy beauty had somehow \ ti
fascinated me more than the care-; f;
less jovousness of the two reigning ! s
belles, whose talk I was overhearing ; T
r in the wood. She was often abstract- o
ed, and looked like a woman with a j
history, although I could not believe y
J^fcat she was more than twenty-two at j t
^SpSie most. She had a complexion pure j i:
'as a lily leaf, and *vith scarcely the ! y
g faintest "tint of rose. Only I had noted, fc
In talking to her, a faint warmth, like j it
- the after-glow of sunset on Alpine r
snows, would suffuse her cheek. Iler a
pvps were frinsred lakes of an unfath- c
~ CP
# > omed depth and darkness. Her: s
If? mouth betraved a sensitivesoul, and I
nfF had seen her hands make nervous r
movementer^-t showed unrest.
Long afttH the careless girls had dis-: t
KjS app ared I lay there chewing the cud ; j
Hp of sweet and bitter fancies. I longed :i
WgP to penetrate the mystery, to be pos-: c
sessedof her past, of her present?of
2* her. I was jealous of that past and s
' all concerned in it. I was-furious at s
the gossips who tal<^r about it. j
and yet I was powerless to defend her. 1
I feared to test my late lest i ungui, \
lose even the r.^ht to speak to her. I
In this state of longing and doubt it s
happened that I did not see her again 1
till the evening of a sort of masquer- '
ade gotten up by the proprietor of the j
BeUeview for the amusement of his 11
visitors. I had selected her from the I;
mass of figures at once, although I had j;
^ received no hint of her costume. She i
"was a sea nymph in shimmering ma- :
rine blue silk, with coral and sea shells i 1
on her dress. She wore a string of '
JT "V> rientil pearls about her neck, and i <
^|at pear-shaped ones like carven
j^N^beaais in her. ears. I fancied
v fa su^dued excitement as she
Fet." ^ie room, like the hush before
\orin. I felt the electricity j
in the air, but had no hint where it
would strike. I happened to be standing
by the side of Miss Sterrit," a fierce
and spectacled old maid, as I saw Miss
Dunbar enter the room and make her
wav in a graceful manner among the
crowd. They seemed to fall back at
her approach, and I was conscious of
an audible snilf from my companion
jl gitiuwcu ao iici
" Look at her pearls?worth a queen's
ransom," she said; "the first victim,
I've always heard, was an Indian nabob."
I fixed a stony stare upon this creature,
but she went on:
"Of course you know it's about
that person who calls herself Miss
Dunbar I'm speaking. I'm surprised
at Mr. Bond's sending an invitation to
such a doubtful person; but, mark my
words, she'll never come here again.
I turned savagely. " What do you
mean?" I cried.
She gave a little titter and
blinked somewhat, as if she had" looked
at too intense a light.
" Oh, I daren't tell. I have vowed
avow! But just stay here and you
will see some fun; and serves her
right, too?the brazen minx?sporting
a Km 11" Vi pro u-itK lior 1 >1 an cn*
that's what I call it, Mr. Breton, and
I'm a plain woman."
" Yes, you are," I cried, "about as
plain as I ever saw; but I've a word
;o say to you, Miss Sterrit. If you
lare to go on circulating slanders
ibout that innocent woman I'll have
rou brought up to sustain every
:harge in court."
The spinster wilted, but glared at
ue wrathfully with her pale, goose)erry-tinted
eyes. I turned away to
ind Miss Dunbar, and saw her sudJpnlv
st.rvr? and falt.pr in hpr wait A
nan in the guise of a policeman, but j
vearing no mask, had marched up to
ier, laid a rough hand upon her shouller,
and thrust a written paper before
ier eyes. The young lady uttered a
iercing scream and fell on the floor.
I sprang forward and seized the ruf
an by the collar.
" "What do you mean?" I cried.
" Part of the masquerade," grinned |
he fellow. " A little surprise got up |
y the ladies, I do assure you. " Who'd '
ave thought she'd have taken it so j
erious ?"
" Because the shoe fits!" giggled !
linnie Brice, near me, and I flung the
lan from me and went out to the j
nteroom where they had carried the ,
oor girl.
I was near when she opened her
>vely dark eyes. I assisted her to her
image, and accompanied her home, j
he did not speak, but drew loDg sighs
ow and then that went to my very
ear't. As we neared her door I could
d silent no longer. " They are
rutes; I'd like to horsewhip that i
jllowj and as for the women?"
"You are very kind," she answered,
lintly; "but don't do anything to i
ive more publicity to the affair. I
onder why they should hate me ? I
ave let them alone."
"They hate you because you are
*1 1 ' _1_ 99 T // Tr _
.aumui. ajuu ricxi, x saiu. * x ou are I
shilling mark."
" I must go away," she sighed.
"Oh!" I cried, in a sudden .feiT0&4
[cannot let you go without tei>rpg Jshe
cried, shrinking *away ]
a sort of terror; "it hurts me."
"But why?" I urged. "I know I I
n a brute"to speak now wliile your ;
?rves are so shaken, only I hoped it !
ight be some comfort for you to feel i
tat you had one friend ready to brave :
le world for you, to shield you from i
le world's sneers, to?"
" But do you not know," she said, j
ith a shudder. "Are you not very j
aprudent ?"
"I love you," I said; "forgive me ;
>r telling you now. I have such a 1
ar that you may vanish and make no
gn." " .
" rvocf
"Let the dead past bury its dead."
" And you would take me on trust ?"
le said, imconsciously drawing nearer !
> me, " even when you hear what was {
1 that paper which the mock police- i
ian put before my eyes so brutally |
ad suddenly."
"You need not tell me," I cried, "I j
ould rather not know."
" Ah, I shall not take advantage of i
3ur trust," she said, sweetly; "you j
lust know all. Come to-morrow i
ight; I shall get over this shock bv j
lat time."
I went home in a whirl of rage, yet !
'ith a gleam of hojfc in my heart- I j
ad composed mys^tolerably by even- I
lg, but wheniphe Scotchwoman j
chprpH me into The orettv boudoir, I
-ith its hangings of Sevres blue silk :
nd bunches of late roses everywhere, j
felt once more sweeping over me the
de of doubt and fear that almost i
mounted to terror. Who was this '
"Oman on whom I had set my hea-t, j
nd what mystery enshrined her ?
"Is your mistress quite well?" I
sked of the kindly-faced woman, who j
ad lingered a moment to throw open !
tie blinds.
" Xa sa verra weel," exclaimed the j
roman in broad Scotch, "but 3Iiss '
icth's na the lass to gie way to the j
apors and sic like, so she bid me say j
he'd come doon."
" Yoi^ve been with her a long time, !
believe'?" I asked with a sudden j
"I nursed her, sir, a bonnie lassie, j
x>: but I was beguiled away by a j
ause loon into matrimony, and I
erved a weary seven years for my sin. ;
V'omen are aye weak-hearted, sir. I'm !
? ^ A f 1*A Y\ r\s\ "
Ill V UitCh. il HiUl tuc Juvv/.
So she had been away during the
cars so full of fate to her loving misress,
and could tell me nothing even
f I had stooped to question her. But
ras I not to hear all from Beth Dunar
herself'? "What a quaint, odd name
i was. hut somehow it suited her
a rely. She came in, looking very pale,
nd the dark eyes were more melanholv
than ever. But she smiled as she
"Perhaps, after all, you will laugh at
ne when you hoar niv story. "
An immense relief came to me with
hese words. If it were within the
>ossibilities that any one could laugh
it her story there could not be any
lark tragedy about it.
" Let us go into the garden," she
aid; "it is quite a pretty place. I am
;orry to leave it."
" You are decided about leaving it ?"
l asked.
"Oh. certainly. The good people
><" ? >v>vm me." slie an
;wered. " I do nut care to explain to
:hem, but I do want to set myself right
with yov."
The evening was delicious?one of
those soft, balmy nights that makes
amends for a scorching day. Beth wore
:i pale blue dress, and carried a soft,
fluffy blue fan in her hand. She looked
jo sweet, so gracious and womanly,
that I wondered at the fatuity of the
people who could read dark mysteries
of crime in her face.
' I have not had two husbands," she
said, with a faint smile: "no, I have
never been? Oh, well, I suppose the
rumors have reached you. I was ig
norant tui tnai oruie pui, tue paye*
j before my eyes last night?with a posi
sible accusation?and a sketch of a
hanging where I was the victim."
"I'll have him arrested!" I exj
claimed, in a rage.
I " Oh. it is over now. It will not
i hurt me again," she said, "and we need
not allude to it?only I want to tell
you that, although I have never been
married, I have been engaged?twice."
Her voice faltered on the last words,
I and my heart sank a little. I was
I inolAlio V? r\ncf T AAYll/1 T* S\+
I jccuvuo vJL JICI pact- x iuuiu i?vo ucai
to think that any other man had
! touched her hand, let alone set the seal
| of betrothal on lief sweet lips.
"Let it all go?let the dead past go
i ?if it is really dead," I said. "If
! there are no embers left of those per;
ished fires that a breath might kindle
"You will know how impossible
j that is when I tell vou that botii are?
: dead."
A faint chill went creeping through
I my veins in a blood-curdling manner
j at these words. "Was there a fatality
I /vVv>s?4. ~
j rtUUUb WIS \\UUUUL, <*IlCr <tur
" I was only sixteen when I was enj
gaged to John Saxton, my father's college
friend," Beth said. " He had |
made a large fortune in India and had
never married. When he came to visit
us I was a frank, happy child, and I
liked him well enough. It was not
love, you understand ? I had not wakened
to that. But he set his heart on
me, and my father?poor, and fast
hastening to the grave? could see
j nothing better for his little girl than
j to give her to his old friend, whose
Kiiiu. iieart lie Knew so weu. 1 consented,
more concerned about my wedding
dress than the bridegroom. I remember
I spread it out on the chair
the night before, and looked lovingly
at the creamy satin and the point lace j
veil that Mr. Saxton had sent. There
was a case of pearls, too?his gift, I
wore them last night for the first time
since. Ah, well, now comes the mystery.
"When the morning came the j
dress and veil were gone."
" Stolen ?" I volunteered.
" Spirited away. It was a bad omen, J
was it not *?" she asked, looking wist- j
fully in my face. " But now?kIo not j
laugn at ine?i wouia give anyunng ;
in the world to believe that they were j
"But how else would you account j
for it ?" I asked.
" I cannot, cannot believe they were ;
stolen?for?yes! I will confide to j
you what I never told any human j
being. I saw a wraith-like creature j
steal into my room, array herself delicately
in that wedding dress and arrange
the veil at the glass, then steal
softly out of the room."
" Did you see the face ?"
" Did you know it ?"
" I ought to know it better than any
other in the world. It was my own!"
she said, with dreary emphasis.
I did not laugh. I felt an uncanny !
cam ip. my uiooci agam. I
"You know what it means when ;
one sees such sights," she said. "I
was never a merry girl again. I told j
Mr. Saxton it was a warning against
the marriage. Perhaps it meant that
ihy wedding dress should be my shroud. ^
'"He did not-urge_it much.: Se^as-: ^
night?the night before., my wedding '
day. Ere my father died soon after, ;
he promised him that he would not
revoke it. He had no nearer friends, 1
so when a year afterward he was j
found dead in his bed I was an heiress. 1
I was very lonely and forlorn, not- !
withstanding the suitors thai, flocked I
about me. There was one, a young j 1
o /t/vncin nmiv timAS T'PTTlOVPd. ! '
ai IWl', CL VVUCiii . . -?,
poor and delicate in health, in whom I 1
began to take an interst. It com- j
menced with pity. Xo?it did not end '
in love. But I knew I could ]
be of use to him. The ucfctor said \
a winter in Pau might save him.
He?Arthur Clare himself?said that !
only my love could save him; that if I turned
from him he would fling his 11
life away like a worthless weecL I be-! '
lieved this. I felt jis if I had a mis- '
sion in saving that gifted young being.
I laid aside all considerations of self. 1
Arthur lm/1 r>ersuaded me that the
spiriting away of my wedding dress 1
was a a blessing instead of a bad omen. ]
It had been kept from sacrificing my- i
self to an old man. So I yielded. The day
was fixed. I was not so childish about 1
my finery this time; still I did not ;
resist the impulse to view it the last
thing. Stiff and stately folds of moire
under cloudy illusion. I locked the
door more carefully than usual, and :
sprung the bolt. Spite of all my rea- '
soning I had an odd tremor at my
heart, and did not sleep for a long
time. I was watclxinff for the strange j'
wraith-like creature. If I saw it this I
time I was sure I would break the;
spell that had held me powerless be- j
fore, and spring forward and "Seize her j
and hold her fast. But, then, how can
one hold a phantom ?"
She paused, her hands dropped idly
in her lap.
I did not speak. I saw a strange !
look in her face. Her voice was very j
Hollow ana weaK -vvnen sne asKea:
" What chance has llesh and blood j
against spirit? and, after all, what i
made me powerless was an odd feeling !
that it was myself?this wan, weird j
creature! At all events. I saw her
walk eut^vf the door in my second
wedding uress. She had arranged the
veil at the glass as before. She seemed
very particular about the wreath of
orange-flowers, and I watched in'
breathless fascination. I thought in
the morning it had been a dream till I j
ovaminoH mv rnnm. Thft dress and
veil were gone!"
"My dear girl," I said, "your maid
was a thief."
" My door was still locked andI
oolted, and every -window fastened and i
burglar-proof. So, you see, there is a j
fatality pursuing me. I can never?
never?bring that presence to my bedside
j ' The third time will break the j
i spell," I said. " I am not frightened, i
I am ready to brave fate for you. Let j
{ us be married without the wedding I
dress. Some afternoon we will quietly
go to the parson and ask his blessing.
Dear, I have no fever and I am not in j
. a decline; but I love you, and. your
j love will frown ray life!"
I "You are interrupting my story," j
she said, with a smile. " You do not!
ask about Arthur?"
" Tell me."
" I think he was rather superstitious.
j Perhaps he did not want a wife who '
was a selfseer, for when I begged delay i
he did not urge the matter. * I sent him
: to Pau for the winter, at all events, j
and it did him good ; but a cold storm
i here proved fatiil, and lie, too, died
suddenly. I could not have saved him. j
His fate was sealed. So this is what j
! the gossips build their tides upon.i
| There were two, and both are dead."
; Xo need to recount the arguments I
1 used. Lovers may guess them and j
others would not understand. I won i
my cause. I was triumphantly happy.
Not a shadow upon my bliss till the
i >/*?? -nooT- on,! T rom?.mV>Arp<l thf
lIUi.il UACM Jk. 4VM*V?W.VV.
, phantom's bride, who always wore away
the wedding dress.
Tor I had not won the point, and
; there was a wedding dress. I inspected i
j it myself, and begged Beth, with a!
laugh, to allow me to keep it for her. i
j I only consented to leave it when j
' Scotch Jeannie volunteered to stay in
the room.
"There must be no mischance this
timo," I said to Jean in the garden.
" I believe it would wreck her reason.
I shall watch outside all night."
i " Xa, but ye'll be the hrave bride;
?rooni on thf> morrow fin vp. trmisft
i o ? y o? * w .1
'about here all night," answered Jean.
| " Never tear, I'll prop me eyes open."
But I could not sleep?too much de!
pended on the issue ol' that night. I
| paced the garden walks alone, and
| waited?
" The larkspur listened 'I hear, I hear,'
And the lily whispered 'I wait.' "
j Suddenly the door opened and Jean
looked out. I sprang forward.
" Ilush !" she said; " wait and look."
In that moment a white figure
| emerged. i saw at a glance it v. as my
I love in her wedding dress. She had
| her eyes wide open, but the vacant
i look of a sleepwalker was in them,
i She went straight on. "We followed
her, and I read the mystery at once.
She was a somnambulist!
She wenv'to a certain part of the
grounds wlurre there was an old well
. half choked with weeds. She moved
the cover. Looking down in the pallid
moonlight I could discern a ghostly
wreath of white, and guessed the historv.
She be<?an to take off the veil.
Miss Dunbar was about to send her
third wedding dress after the others. I
seized her hands.
" Beth," I cried, " we are safe; the
spell is broken !" ;
She looked at me with a sudden cry,
then at her white attire.
"Is this the solution?" she cried, 1
throwing herself in my arms. " Oh, I
am so gird?so glad. I love you so
well, that this time it would have
broken my heart."?Helen W. Pierson. j
Causing a Deatl Man's Heart to Beat. ?
At Chicago, v.'ithin one minute after
the body of James Tracy, the mur- <
derer of Policeman Iluebner, had been
taken from the gallows, Drs. Mann and 1
Bluthardt, in the presence of other 3
physicians, began the interesting ex- i
periment of applying electricity with t
a view to resuscitation. The features t
were not distorted, and the dead man <
looked as peaceful as though he had s
passed away in sleep. Dr. Bluthardt
said: . c
"He died painlessly. Tie lost con
sciousness withm a moment alter tlie 1
drop fell. lie was dead before he
knew what hurt him. The neck was i'
dislocated at the first vertebra;. I wish
you would let me make a post-mortem," c
lie added, turn ng to James McCann, )'
to whom Tracy liad willed his body. i;
"Xo," said the old Irishman, look- 11
ing mournfully at the corpse. " He
will be buried ir. Calvary iust as he is." I s
"Xow that it is all over," said a reporter
to him, " tell me, are you posi- s<
tive that Tracy was with you on that n
fatal night ?" fi
" I am positive of it," was the reply; tl
ind, pointing to the corpse, he added: o
' That man was foully dealt with." o
Then tlie doctors applied the electricity,
and it w;is intensely interesting a
t.Vio mncfloc /vf +I10 /kstlsl fooo
V/i. cuv V/V1U iUV/V I
joun^n^ce^of X)'r. Da'Q?orth"l:t up"
suddenly as he bent over the corpse, a'
'Hush!" he said; "I caa hear the a
tieart beat." The others bent down in a!
turn, and they, I oo, heard the rhythmic ^
throbbing of the heart. This is the
statement that they wrote: ?:
The experiment was begun by ap- H
plying one pole over the spinal cord t1
md the other over the heart?the latter t)
by means of three needles, one over t<
the apex and two over the base of the ti
tieart. The needles were inserted be- b
aeath the skin, so as to bring the elec- h
[TIC CUrrfiiU III uuai tuiiiiaumv?w.vu ^
with the heart. On turning on the
current the effect was very marked. f;
Muscular contortions began wherever n
the electric current reached, but espe- tl
jially in the face and neck. The heart ti
began to contract feebly, not regularly, t
With the ear over the heart ve could a
iistinctlv hear, or rather feel, the e
heart's contractions. 33v removing s<
the electrode we could produce a tl
variety of facial expressions, p
Ihe arms would contract, the s:
legs move with considerable force, and h
the muscles of the abdomen contract p
strongly. The most significant fact, n
u..,o tKo rv+lirmV nr-ti<in nft.1l?
LIU ?C*U, <vo mv i; tmuiw v- |
heart, notwithstanding that the neck
was broken. It i.c probable that a considerable
proportion of criminals who
are hanged in this country are either
mechanically strangled?that is, choked
to death; or killed by shock?that, is,
death is the result of the terrible impression
maile upon the nervous sys- 11
tern. In cases where the neck is not
broken and the spinal cord is not lacerated.
we are of opinion that resusci- ^
tation would not be impossible. It '
might be accomplished by electricity, ^
friction, artificial respiration, the hot
bath, and other well known means of
restoration. In this present case re- 11
suscitation was impossible, as the neck '
was broken. *
Career ol Arabi Pasha. t
Ahmed Arabi Pasha is an Egyptian I
of the purest type. lie is the son of e
the sheik of a small village near Damanhour,
anil w>.s born in 1839. He a
claims to be a Saiyid?that is, a lineal a
descendant of the Prophet through his (
daughter Fatima?and by this title he ?
was always addressed by his soldiery, t
" r? .. ..J T1 A -jlior 1'
lie SlllUieU J.U1 il 111UC at nit
university, but before completing his a
course there he entered the military t
school at Cairo, from which he entered t
the army as a lieutemuit. Arabi first ^
came into notice during the time of
Ismail Pasha, when he was degraded I
from his military rank because of cer- <
tain charges against him. After a long
legal contest he was acquitted and re- 1
instated. During the campaign in A bys- J
sinia he gained the rank of j <
major, and m J.5SU lie oecame a coiuuei.,
A speech lie made to the soidiers on ' (
the day lie became a colonel led some ; '
Egyptian officers and men to attack 1
the British controller. Charles Rivers '<
Wilson, and other Europeans con- <
nected with "lie finance department, t
Tills was followed by Arabi's imprisonment.
from which he was soon re- t
leased by a mob. He at once became
a strong leader of the national party, <
and continued to keep alive the discontent
with t he government, growing j
chiefly out of the reforms in the army.
At last Arabi overthrew the Clierif: '
Pasha ministry and established an-j
other, with himself as minister of war. J
Early this year Arabi was displeased j <
* * * % - '-a ? i
Witll tlie Knedive lor liuent-iiuj; mm |
his orders, and the result was a threat:
to depose the sovereign unless he ae- <
ceded to his minister's designs. This i
threat was followed by Arabi's resig- M
nation and a demand from his army :
i for his reinstatement. Tiie demand :.
; was granted and Arabi was again in :
power. A month later the so-called |
! Alexandria massacre occurred, and in '
July came the bombardment of the j
town and the flight of Arabi at the:
head of his troop?.
Nothing is more dangerous to men
i than a sudden change in fortune. . I
. '- '
-- . ~ -
Life on a Slississlppi HaiboaL
The malarial districts in the north'
ern part of the city during the summer
months have a large population that
rarely ligures in the city directory.
The persons referred to are the flatboatmen,
who dot th2river bank during
several months of the year. All of
them live in the boats, most of them
have a large family of small children,
and every boat, has a contingent
force of dogs distributed in the ratio
of about three curs to every man,
woman and child on the craft.
The men are mostly sallowed and
sickly and the women and children
crawney and raw-boned. A PostDispatch
reporter made a visit to
the neighborhood this morning. Just
at the foot of the waterworks a num
ber of flats were found tied up. Approach
to the boats was cut off for
some time by a yelping and mangy,
pack of hungry curs. A tall man made'
his appearance and in a suspicious
manner inquired what was wanted.
He said he was willing to tell what he
knew about flatboating and seated
himself on a log. Six or seven of his
children of assorted sizes deposed
themselves around toiiiiJten, The man
was possibly forty-live years of age and
clad in garments which were equally
remarkable for patches and varieties
of color. lie stated that he enjoyed
his semi-maritime life and thought it
as pleasant as any other work he could
" How frequently do you make your
trips to Xew Orleans?"
" Oh, not | more than once in three
years. They do not pay, you see, and
we rarely make them."
" "What does it generally cost for a
trip of that kind?"
44 Well, fifty-five cents to $1 per day.
44 What is your plan on such runs ?"
44 We generally prepare for the trip a
month or six weeks ahead, and cut
loose from, here or wherever we may
je three or four weeks before the
;nnw rmri stnrmv wpfl.t.hp'r SAtj5 i*t> "
" What is your firsfc landing-place
ifter you leave this port ?"
"We stop at Cairo to take observations
and lay in extra supplies. I tell
rou Cairo is the 'greatest of all places
n this country for flatboats. On the
rip we work more tfith the fishing
ackle than anything|efee, and sell
>ur catch to the to^T?. along, and 1
ometimes trade in knick-knacks."
" IIow long does it take you to make ;
>ne of your Southern trips?"
" Sometimes four months and someimes
only three."
" If the trip is successful what does '
t pay you ?" , J
"On my last cruise'south I made,
lear of expenses, $200; hut then I 1
ras gone five months. The average 5
s $100 for a trip in the fishing busi- 1
Less." 1
" Are there many flatboats moving ,
outh in the fall of the year?"
" I have known 200 or more going ?
outh at the same time. Some of the >
nrp sinorlp hilt. manvfif t.hpm hnvi*
umilies, like myself. "When we reach 1
ae end of our trip we generally sell s
ur boats and come" back on the deck ^
f some steamer." *
" What work do you do when you T
re stopping here ?"
" "When we get back our first work }
n~' logs that' nave"%3oT~i^i?y li'vui-^
bove. If tlie owners come we are c
[ways paid and return the logs. "We J
lso catch driftwood, cut it into cord- j
ocd length and dispose of it to glass t
tctories, mills, etc., at from $2.50 to |
3 per cord. When there is no wood *
oacing we go in skiffs fifteen or ^
iventy miles up the river to some of *
ie drift heaps, make wood rafts and t
)w them down to St. Louis, and someines
we pull lumber out of the river: *
ut most always the lumber companies 1
ave their regular men to do the work, 1
ou know." (
The man declared that he and his
M? ?.1.^. Kim W??*TC *
amuy, wuu na>cicu
ot often sick. He seemed to think 1
lie life he was leading as conducive *
3 longevity as any other. He said I
hat he was sure there were as many 1
s 1,500 flatboatmen in the western
ountrv, and at le<tst 500 made the 1
Duthern trip every year. He closed '
lie conversation by saying that in *
laces where he stopped he paid con- j
iderable attention to the education of
is children, and he knew he was as (
rcsperous and as happy as most
iei who had to work for a living.? i
't. Louis Pos J
How tlie World TYent Right Along-.
A Bear who had made himself be:eve
that he had the worst luck of any
nimal in creation, was crawling
lirough the woods one day when he
iiet a Serpent, who inquired :
"Which way now, my Friend ?''
" I am going to find some spot where
can retire from the World. The
Vorld has not used me right and in re enge
I will desert ic."
JL V\ UUIUil t UV ,
" But I will. I can no longer trust ]
.nybody. I have been cheated, lied to ;
in (I misused until I have no faith left. ;
will now retire within myself, and if i
ny convulsion of Nature takes place <
he country must not blame me for it. ,
have borne all that one Bear can be ]
xpected to put up with." <
Bruin went his way until he found ;
. lonely spot, and 'ie then crawled into '
. hole and began listening for the
1 ' T' ? ? *>/! a "Ki m Pnal
TciCK OX JUCJUIIJ* 10 iiicm^ iizui j
;ood to think that the "World -was ;
urning itself bottom side up because
le had absente<l himself from sight
ind search, and he was determined not
o yield until after several thousand
error-stricken people had come to him
vith tears in their eyes.
Much to Bruin':; surprise the night
>assed like all ether nights. Xo one
ippeared during the forenoon to plead
vith him, and the afternoon passed
vithout an Earthquake or Tornado.
To nimnpntarilv exnected the advent
)f a crowd to plead with him to come
>ack to the "World and have faith and
jcnfidence, but the crowd didn't show
ip. After a long and hungry night
!3ruin began to weaken. After much
irgument with himself he crawled out
)i his den, and was sneaking through
;Le woods when he met a Hare.
"Is the "World yet standing?" asked
:Le Bear.
" Certainly, never more solid since I
?r,n remember."
' And is any one seareaing iui me
" Xot that I know of."
"Everything is going on just the
same, eh?"
"Just the same."
" And didn't you hear that I had lost
ill faith in human nature, and retired
from the "World V"
" Xever heard "a word of it. Tra-la,
aid man, I'm off."
The Bear sat down on a thistle and
thought the matter over for a few
1 -1 onrl a lwa. I
aiinutes, iUlU lUCU IWtauu iuhuv o |
line for his usual haunts, telling every j
anin:al he met on the way that he had J
been off on a fishing excursion.
Ths cynic who flatters himself that i
he is revenging himself on the world j
by withdrawing his company forgets
that he will he obliged to associate I
with himself.?Detroit Free Press.
- _
"Extent and Valne of the Sea-Shell Trade ofj
Lom Augeles, cal.
The Los Angeles (Cal.) Telegram |
in a recent issue says: Away down j
on Aliso street, in one of the quietest i
parts of Los Angeles, there is an un->
pretending build n<T wllifll of 1 cnnoi*- i
- O ? ?? j
facial glance, appears to be devoted to j
the retail sale of sea-she]ls. There is a
meager supply of all sorts of small
stacks of shells in the window, as well
as large stacks of shells in the store.
But there is a glass office -with desks
and books and .other indications of
business, and these in a quiet, out-of- ;
the-way street, indicated to the susceptible
mind of the Telegram reporter '
that this was not a retail sea-shell ;
store. Yet no one outside appeared to 1
know what it was. No one in Los ?
Angelas had or has any suspicion that
a ti?de amounting to hundreds of i
thousands of dollars per annum is carried
on in this modest little store on 1
Aliso street. It is kept by a polite J
and wide-awake little man, who, with <
a polite bow and outstretched hands, *
announced as his title in this world 1
the indicative name, "Simon Levy." t
Simon is ostensibly a forwarding and <
commission merchant, dfaler in hides, <
wool, etc., but in fact is the principal 1
dealer and has almost the entire I
monopoly of the sea-shell exporting I
trade of the Pacific coast. He is a po- d
lite' and ready conversationalist and ! *
readily imparted the information the h
inquisitive reporter desired. c
Upon the top of a large safe in the t.
office was displayed an assortment of h
shells which at once attracted the h
reportorial eye. They were of various
sizes, almost round and fiat as shells h
can be made. The largest were about b
eight inches in diameter, the smallest g
about five inches. They can be seen in "
almost every window in San Francisco f<
or New York, where fine paintings are "
sold, and usually have a pretty little a
landscape painting upon their face, a:
They are overlaid with a bright milk- el
white pearl, which is exquisitely beau- tl
tiful, and which excites immediate ad- is
miration and attention. In response tl
to the reportorial interrogatory, Mr. ni
Levy explained: "Those shells, sir, ol
are caJUed in trade the Tahiti shell, but
they are better known as the' Mother- ai
of-Pearl shell" to those who buy H
them. They are brought to California p:
from the island of Tahiti, where the
natives dive for them and bring them m
to the surface of the sea for barter It
with our traders. You have little idea fe
3f the value of the shells (taking down
Dne about the size of a tea saucer.) a
This one is worth $1.50 at wholesale, w
ind this (taking down one as large as th
i dinner plate) is worth $4. I sold a lit
?air in San Francisco the other day ra
lot much larger than these for ?50. fr'
5Tou look skeptical and incredulous! I3'
ret what I say is true. I will tell you an
iomething more which will surprise its
rou. A few weeks ago I received an
>rder from one of my correspondents an
n Paris for a lot of 'mother of pearl tei
hells.' I was in San Francisco next ni;
lay, and in three days filled an order th
or shells amounting to $40,092, which D(
vas shipped direct to Paris. tes
" That basket you see there is full of thi
learl oysters from La Paz, on the Hex- ab
lyster" sold in our restaurants. These be.
? ? awa mAwA flnf or>rl t'arm- <7P'
)*Z<XII UJSLOI9 <11KD JL1IUIO lictu ciA-tv*. iv/^u- Q"'
ar, and upon the outside have radia- hg
ing rows of grooves from the thick cu
>ortion of the shell. "That little bas- ba
:et of oyster shells is worth ?75," con- six
inued Mr. Levy. ""What for?" "Oh, tai
Or button making. They are used for th<
lie surface of pearl buttons, and an
ometimes are more valuable than at a 1
his time. Just now* the fashion or bo
age for pearl buttons is not in vogue, wi
ience we pay less and have smaller pr<
lemand for pearl oyster shells." oil
" Our trade is largely dependent upan po
ashion, and when people want pearl lig
mttons we send for more shells from gr<
he Mexican coast and pay a better lit
* J i f linrlif QA1
nice. jijrcstrjib liic ucuianu 10 nguv
tnd the trade dull." m;
. Noticing the large assortment of of
ibalone shells on hand, the reporter pr
isked for information relative to the
rade. There are four varieties known
:o the trade, one of which, the large
jlue-green shell, is most valuable in
:ommerce. Pa
11 ti
These blue-green abalone shells are gC]
'ound upon the coast of Mexico and gu
Lower California, and are gathered oy j,
rading and fishing boats and brought ^
;o this city via "Wilmington. They are
arger and more beautiful than the j..
California abalone shells, and comnand
a high price. Mr. Levy states ;,
:hat he has a standing order from
Paris for all these shells he can
)btain of this variety. The black
California abalone shell is the next most j !
iesirable of sea-shells in commerce. ?.
rhis is gathered principally by China- '
Tien along the coast, who dry the L
neat and sell the shells. These are
jsed for inlaid -work upon boxes, fur- .'
liture, knife handles and jewelry, and n
ire bringing about ?1,000 per ton.
Europe is the principal market for
Lhem. There is the common gray
abalone shell, which is annually gath- te
?red all along the coast and has a
market value of $700 per ton. These v,
shells are stored at San Diego, San ^
Pedro, Los Angeles and Santa Bar- j1(
bara, and shipped as the trade de- ^
n'.ands direct to all parts of Europe.
Several hundred thousand dollars are j
annually invested in these shells, which ?
are used in the manufacture of buttons ee
on/1 nrnamariic fnr t>i<a Tvlirrmpan Tlflflr- I ,
ket. In addition to the large shells fa
mentioned, immense numbers of fine
shells are imported for this trade from gt
the coasts of Japan, China and the pl
South Sea islands. The principal office
for the trade is here in Los Angeles.
Another important branch of the shell cj
trade is that of " small shell," which fr
are sold at the rate of $50 to seventy- q
five per 100 pounds. These are gathered
upon the shores of the southern
coast and the islands in the Pacific
ocean and shipped here in sacks, and j
again reshipped by vessels from TTil- j ?
niington to various ports in Europe, j sj
where they are used in the manufac-, ^
ture of various kinds of ornaments. It j
is a trade quite important in its value c]
and of which so little is known that h
not half a dozen residents of Los
Angeles were aware of its existence. j.
A Catalogue of Kings. j
The most powerful king on earth is tl
ivnr-L-mrr The laziest kin<r. lur-kinc. b
?. V* a, ^
The meanest king, shir-king. And the ; h
most disgusting, smir-king. The must! n
popular, smoking. The most common,' b
jo-king; and the leanest one, thin-king; I o
gnd the thirstiest one, drin-king: and ; t
the sliest one, Avin-king: and the most! n
garrulous one, tal-king. And then f
there is the hae-king, whose trade's a a
perfect mine; the dark skinned mon- j I
yrch, blac-king, who cuts the greatest k
shine; not to speak of ran-king, whose a
title's out of question; or famous ruler,: e
ban-king, of good finance digestion, j c
^ k
The French minister of agriculture q
has granted to M. Pasteur a further u
sum of $10,000 to enable him to con- j
tinue his researches into the diseases
of animals. 1 u
Penis of Kerosene.
Professor J. K Macomber, of the
Iowa Agricultural college, has issued
an instructive pamphlet on the dangerous
illuminating oils. The whole
matter lies in a nut shell. Petroleum, <
or rock oil, is the natural product as it i
comes from the earth. It is the mix- <
ture of a number of oils, some very <
volatile, some moderately volatile. Tn 1 ,
lit it for use the very volatile oil must 1
be removed by a process called refin- ]
ing. These very volatile oils are gas- ;
oline, naphtha, benzine; they are the i
dangerous elements; when thoroughly i
removed only the safe kerosene re- t
mains. They are the gunpowder t
which explodes, kerosene is the cart- 1
ridge paper, that only burns. The i t
problem of safety, therefore, is solved j j
by a thorough removal of the volatile 12
oils. j ]
frn?nlino onil nor>>>+V>o o-??n fUnrv. I
selves often used for illumination, i
rhey are villainously dangerous?just j
;hat and nothing less. The most hor- l,
ribie hdisehold accidents reported in y
)ur newspapers are gasoline explo- o
.ions, explosions arising in connection
,vith the stoves and lamps made to burn t'
.his liquid. Gasoline is the gunpow- t!
ier that has been removed from the d
:artridge to make it safe to burn; yet g
Ifrft we find nAfmlp hnrniTidr +>iia .li
6^^" l ti
>owder itself! In addition to the! tl
amps and stoves, another source of E
[anger is that gasoline for supply b
oust be kept stored somewhere in the o:
louse. Now the slightest leak in the tl
an or other storage vessel will permit t<
he extremely volatile vapor to escape n
ato the air, where a lighted 'match or
imp will instantly explode it. n:
There are three grades of naphtha G
1 the market. A light grade is called st
enzine. Xaphtha is as dangerous as
asoline. If a lighted lamp contain- Sc
lg this substance breaks 'the entire cc
)om will be filled with a flame in an f t
istant. When good kerosene retails u]
t twenty-five to thirty cents a gallon b(
ad naphtha can be purchased at th
.even and twelve cents a gallon by sc
le dealer, the temptation to adulterate ej
very great; and adulteration cheats
le purchaser by giving him a fluid is
at only dangerous to burst but also at
: far less illuminating power. pc
Do not imagine because you have ne
1 honest grocer that you are safe, sh
'.e did not refine the kerosene; he Gi
obably did not buy it direct from fo
ie refiner. The only protection is to cr;
ake a simple experiment yourself, w,
' is perfectly safe. We quote Pro- an
ssor Macomber's directions:
"With a little care any one can test th
opccnutii ui uii auu ueiermme is
hether it is fit for use. A common &[j
ermometer, a tea cup, saucer and a iu]
tie warm water include the appa- th<
tus needed. First, remove all objects
om the table which are inflammable, liti
it some boiling water in the tea cup pe;
id gradually pour in cold water until
?temperature is about 145 degrees.
)ur a little oil on the warm water, 1
d stir well until the oil has the same 1
mperature as the water. Light a br<
itch and nwe it quickly two or is <
ree times over the surface "of the oik me
) not hold it still a moment. The the
;t is for the purpose of determining pla
e presence of inflammable vapors sta
ovethe liquid. Finally plunge the bui
tivr.y. i -v:?TC
tow the >standard and Vaan- -fro
rous. To extinguish the oil when rac
hted, place the saucer over the tea- sor
p. If the oil is suspected to be very Th
(1, pour a little on water at about flo(
:ty or seventy degrees. If it con- hai
ns naphtha or gasoline it will ignite cec
3 moment a match comes over it, j the
d will burn furiously. Again, pour the
ittle good kerosene "oil on a smooth roc
ard and apply a lighted match. It ?
11 ignite with great difficulty and wh
ubably go out. Now pour a little bre
which contains naphtha, or a little try
or naphtha, on a board, and apply a i inf
hted match. It will burst into a j hoi
eat name instantly, ana uiuess vei \ j ?>u
tie is used the flame will rise upward we
reral feet. All these tests should be err
ide in a room where there is no fire an
light near, as any specimen may by
ove a dangerous one. tio
?? 0f
1 lie Inhabitants of Osliima. ffe]
Oshima, one of the largest of the ?01
ands between the south coast of Jan
and the east coast of "Formosa, sec
s lately been visited and partially de-1
ribed by Dr. L. Doderlein. it is a^t
bject to prolonged and violent ty- an,
100ns. Besides what appears to be C01
e aborigines, it is inhabited by the <
ore robust and better-proportioned aril
ipanese. The former have a narrow ^1(
ce and pointed chin. Their eyes are
rcrp their Tins thin, and the bridge n?
?X w ?.v
the nose convex. All the body is jia
otected with thick hair, like that mi
Inch distinguishes the Ainos. The th<
nguage is s sort of Japanese dialect. ev,
tcept some veneration paid to a de- ^r,
irted relative, the author could not -tK
Ld that they had any re- f0]
jion. Although the population jia
fifty thousand, there is fli
>t a priest or a temple on the island. a ]
lie customs differ greatly from those
the Ainos and the Japauese. A cjg
arried -woman in Japan blackens her C01
eth, for example; the Oshima women f0]
> not. A woman among the Ainos j}c
is her lips tatooed; an Oshima girl,
, soon as she is thirteen years old, has an
;r hands tatooed from the wrists to tic
ie roots of the nails by experts, but fr<
ie lips receive no tatooing. The 2::
ague of the island is a snake called on'
liabu." It is amphibious, pursuing
:1s in the streams and climbing trees re<
strike its prey on land with equal ^
.cility. Death is inevitable from its
roke unless the part affected be inantly
cut out, or the limb itself amitated.
Villages have been abanmed
where the habu prevails. The
mna of the island is Loochoo in
laracter ffhnerally. Xo other traveler ; X
om the west has hitherto described hi
shim a. sp
A Savage Elephant. ^
An Indian newspaper reports that m
[r. Albert G. R. Theobald, of the i de
>rest department, has succeeded in dr
looting the famous rogue elephant of ! in
le Poonasy hills, in the Kollegal; re
aluk. Mr. Theobald was twice j m
iiarged by the brute, which was a' ne
uge tusker, measuring eleven feet in i to
eight, and which kept the hill vil-1 p?
igers in terror for a very long time, j ba
'he elephant was a few years back j tb
n-ith tw-pntv-fnnr others, into I or
lie Kollegal Keddah, at Allambady, I w
ut he resisted every effort to capture j so
im; #nd, being such a large tusker, j fe
o pains were spared to secure him, j ot
ut it was all in vain. It is said that j te
ut of the twenty-four elephants cap- j st
tired with him lie killed no less than | ui
ineteen. and finally broke through the ; di
Zeddah gate in spite of the shots fired : zc
t him and the fires kept burning, j pi
ifter his escape lie is known to have \ ot
illed three, two women and a man, J la
nd many others had very narrow j
scapes from his furious headlong
harges. Besides human beings, he has j
illed several cattle and destroyed great1 ui
uantities of standing crops, causing
nimense loss to the rvots. : tl
? ! ti
Tho French residents of Xew York ; is
umb :r about 10,000. i D
Africa and the Africans.
Perhaps there is no portion of the |
world with a history so interesting as
that of Africa. A few years ago this
great continent was less known than
any other part of the world. The in- terior
had never been mapped out and <
settled by white men. The great desert J
Df Sahara, with its wandering tribes 1
Df Arabs, and their camels and flocks; <
the great Egyptian plain and the pyramids;
the vast wealth of animal life 1
ibounding in forests and rivers; <
myriads of birds, beasts and lishes, ningled.together
in confused ideas? t
;hese were the general notions of this t
;hird great continent of the world. <
fet the history of the earliest ages of t
he world is laid in the north of J
Africa. After the confusion of Babel, f
\ oan s son, nam, went ana seitiea m s
Sgypt. I
The history of the children of Israel i
n their bondage under Pharaoh and c
assage across the Red sea under their c
?aders. Moses, himself saved from the e
raters of the Nile, connects the history
f Africa with the pages of the Bible. I
Egypt was afterward conquered by i:
lie Persians, and then by Alexander t
he Great, king of Macedon, in whose c
ays, two thousand years ago, the t
reat cities and wonderful buildings on "v
ie banks of the Nile were ruins, so u
iat they must have been built by s:
Ismtian kinsrs manv hundred -vears c
efore. Ethiopa was another division h
f Africa. It was once called Sheba, v
le kingdom of that queen who went ii
) visit Solomon, and whose dominions li
ow form Nubia ancL Abyssinia. b
Then there were the countries colo- a
ized by the ancient Phoenicans and o:
recians, which are now the Parbary a
;ates. * ti
The other regions of Africa have ii
:arcely any history. The ancients P
>ntented themselves with very fanci- a<
il stories about the inhabitants of the f*
iknown interior. These were said to b;
; people without noses, and some with fe
tree or four eyes. Others were de- m
ribed as giants without heads, but an se
e in their breasts. b;
One of the prettiest of these fables to
of the Pigmies, a small people, hi
>out twelve inches in height, sup- th
isea to live in houses- like birds' er
;sts, built of clay and eggs and bird- Ti
ells, on the banks of the Xile. th
:eat battles are related as being C;
ught between the Pigmies and the su
anes, one of whom, sometimes, P<
)uld snatch up a Pigmy in his beak m
u lij a way witii mm. to
At the southern point of Africa is sq
e large colony of " the Cape," as it ta
called; and northeast of this the re<
Terent tracts of country, Natal, Zu- th
iand and Transvaal, where, during ou
e last year or two, there have been rel
irs and continuous fighting, with
tie profit or prospect of a lasting Ca
ace su
? otl
I Southern California Horse Farm* &e
r, ? ^ th;
Ex-Governor . Leland Stanford's 0f
Jeding farm for horses at Palo Alto br;
me of the most complete establish.- tin
nts of the kind in the world. Of SU]
5 seventeen hundred acres in the saf
.ce, one hundred are occupied by the ag;
bles, barns and small paddocks." The rac
ildings, at the foot of a gentle rise j^i
m their business on the pastures and. - an*
;e tracks, and have two hundred per- ag
is employed in their domestic service. affi
e spacious barns are uniformly ag
)red and ceiled up with redwood?a dr<
idsome material, which resembles th<
lar in effect, They are strewn with an
t ctrnw q r> r? Vpnf*. -var.
! most unexceptionable drawing- Wa
>ms. ma
scions from the stock here raised, we
ich represents the best thorough- M<
k! and trotting strains in the coun- the
, are likely to be a most important wa
luence in improving the breed of on
rses throughout the Pacific coast. It wc
s here that curious experiments
re conducted, at the expense of Gov- ho
lor Stanford, for arriving at a better de;
derstanding of the speed of horses se1
photographing them in rapid mo- in<
n. The photographer, Mipbridge, th<
San Francisco, succeeded vy an in- re?
lious arrangement of electrical wires, th(
limunic&ting at the touch of the an- bu
O1. (ioniar!i? nlrPflrJv nrMlftrpd. l'n -rat
tu J r--x , ivv
uring twelve distinct views of the di
ferent stages of a single stride. The ter
itudes are of the most unexpected ba
i curious sort, some of them highly eo]
nic. fiv
Great pains are taken in the raising Coi
d training of the young colts. From me
5 time of foaling the colts are han- frc
*1 gently and constantly, and are ed
ide as familiar with the touch of th<
rness as chf.y are with that of hu- ne
in hands. -i.s a natural consequence Coi
?y are perfectly tame, gentle and nti
en affectionate, and never need ba:
?aking. The effect of this system of ho
Lining has been apparent in the per- a (
miance of some of the colts wiucn bu
ve been publicly speeded against time.
ie first notable exhibition of speed by
Palo Alto colt was made on the Bay th<
strict association track at San Franco
in 1880, when the two-year-old wc
It Fred Crocker lowered the record yr
r a one-mile trot to 2:25?. Last year an
>nita, a two-year-old filly from Palo no
to, cut the 'record down to 2:24J ; ]v.
d later, at the same trotting exhibi- bu
>n, "Wildflower, another two-year-old fei
)m the same farm, made the mile in thi
>1 . "LTimrlo T?nco q vparlinor fillv
X , O.JJU lilliua ?* a J y .
the same day added to the fame of
e farm by cutting down the yearling
:ord to 2:36|. It is asserted that th
ere are colts on the farm which can nu
even better.? ftr. H. Bishop, in in<
xrper's. ph
? ca:
Standing and Sitting. tr(
Tlie London Daily Telegraph says: tir
ature, while she specially built the ne
iraan form to stand erect, has 0f
eciallv decreed tnat men and women iat
ould occasionally rest themselves by ca,
suming a sedentary position. Al- fu
ost every medical authority on the on
fcrmities of the human body has gu
awn attention to the fact that stand- ca
g too long operates in a vicious di-_ ab
ction, which, by elongating certain" 0f
uscles, weakens them; that from the lit
;cessity of changing position, in order in
rest the muscles, it occurs that when ^
jople are standing they alternately p0
dance themselves first on one leg and 0f
en on the other, but most frequently an
l tlie leit, ana inai a gin wnn a na
eak spine, after standing upright for
me time, generally does not keep her ar
et in line, but places one above the tr<
her. Curvature of the spine, albeit sj(
mporary, is the result. The habit of tn
anding on one leg, a habit almost . aj
avoidable in standing too long, in- ^
ices the shoulders to lose their hori- ie.
mtal level. The one opposite to the th
ojecting hip becomes higher than the jjj
her, and the spine becomes deformed ^
terally at this part. tij
? se
T i'ontonorit Tempi Crppnp who com
anded the detachment of United th
:ates marines which battered down
ie door of the engine-house and cap- fe
ired John Browq, at Harper's Ferry,
now a farmer living near Firesteel, fr
ak. j, 5-5
- *' ' , ?"r ' I*
How a Small Body of Chilians Defended
Themselves Against a Large Body of
Peruvian Guerrillas.
The foL1 owing description of the heroic
defense of Concepcion, a town of
3,000 inhabitants, in the interior of
Peru, by a small body of Peruvians, is
:rom a correspondent of the Mercurio,
>f Valparaiso:
It was about 3 p. si. when the
nf frnprrill?<3 vprp firct. nli?Arv<vl
)n the heights overlooking the town.
1 sergeant and two privates volun;eered
to go for reinforcements, but
;hey were killed before they were well
>ut of the town. "With the death of
;he three volunteers, all hope of assistmce
from without vanished. The
;nemy fired down upon the Chilian
ioldiers almost as soon as they ap>eared
in sight, but the fire was not
eturnecl. and the diminutive garrison
:ollected in the barracks. The silence
m the part of the Chilians led the
nemv to suppose that the garrison
wished to capitulate, and soldiers and ? ndians
becan to rush down the hills .
cl the direction of the town. Capain
Carr?o Pinto took -xk>ssession_ v.
?? the four entrances leading'"into'v ' *"v*':"
lie square in which the barracks
rere situated, and when the en?iy
was within musket range
Lmultaneous discharges from the four
orners of the square played terrible . "
avoc in their ranks. A running fire |
'as then kept up for an hour, inflictig
heavy loss on the Peruvians. The
ttle garrison also suffered some losses,
ut the enemy did not dare to advance
single step. At length the condition
f the cartridge pouches of his men,""
nd the open hostility of the inhabimt-s,
who began to take an active part
1 the affair, warned Captain Carrera
into that the time had arrived for
iopting other tactics. The little band
ill back steadily and in order to their
arracks, which they prepared to de>nd
with their lives. The Peruvians '
addened with liquor, which was
:rved out to them in large quantities
7 the inhabitants, approached almost
? the very walls of the barracks, and
indreds paid for their temerity with '
ieir lives. At about 6 p. m:. the enay
was seized with a panic and fled,
he besieged attributed their flight to
.e approach of reinforcements, and
iptain Carrera Pinto started in purit.
In the meantime, however, the
jruvian commanders h^l got their
en together ag&g&and ajery housep,
window anjp^ot commnding the
11*0 o rr*i o/-vl / ! i Pov* ?
U(XL^ ?T OO ?T I 111 OV-ZiVXlClO* ^CfcJ^T*
in Carrera Pinto and his men were
ceived with a galling fire as soon as
ey entered one of the streets leading
t of the square, and they began to
treat once more.
At this critical juncture Captain
.rrera Pinto and some of the few
rvivors of the garrison made an:ier
sally, and with sword and bayo- t
cut down the enemy at such a rate
at they cleared the front and sides
the barracks. In the meantime the
ive fellows inside succeeded in pnt.g
out the flame, and in removing the
rvivinor xrrmr>fl<v1 nf c-TA!?f-j>r
ety. Just as the sallying party
sun reached the doors of the bar:ks
it was received with showersof^^^g^fljj
i -the hordes of savageS outside ain
had recourse to the use of par- .
ine. The building was soon on fire
ain in fifty different places, and hun- :
;ds of the enemy were perforating :
i walls at various points. Lieutent
Montt, who was now in command,
:eived a wound in the head, but he
s soon at the front of the few reining
men of the garrison. Sallies
re organized under Lieutenants
>ntt, Cruz and Perez, and in one of
i earliest of these Lieutenant Montt
s mortally wounded. At 8 a. 21.
lf?> T.ipntAnant. Pprf*z fpll
LiiVy XVViJ,
>unded in another sally, and he - \J/,
is immediately pounced upon by a
rde of Indians, who lanced him to
ath. At 10 o'clock, of the
. enty-seven Chilians compos;
the garrison only four, and two of.
?m wounded, remained to offer any
listance. The rest were some of
jin dead and the others dying. The
ilding was now ablaze in every di:tion.
Pour women, wives of solirs,
who had been eye-witnesses of the
rible tragedy m wmcn meir nuy
nds bad per shed?one of them acmpanied
by her son, a little lad of
e, and another by an infant who had
ne into the world at the commence:nt
of the attack?after removing
>m the burning building the woundwho
still breathed, went out into
j square, doubtless hoping and beving
that, owing to their sex and
idition, their lives and those of the
tie ones would be spared. They had
rely stepped outside of the building, "3
wever, when they were set upon by
:rowd of savages and were horribly
tchered. The little lad of five had
> throat cut from ear to ear and was
rbarously mutilated, and the body of - ; ; ;;|
^ little infant of a few hours only
is found pierced with six lance
)unds. Lieutenant Cruz and the surfing
soldiers were also surrouuded
d they fell one after the other, but
t until they had sold their lives dear"When
the remainder of the Chaca- * ; /
co battalion arrived at Concepcion, a
v days after the sad disaster, 291 of .
5 enemy's dead were counted.
Parasol Ants, Trinidad.
En the afternoon, after arriving at
3 island in search of the cashew
ts and fruit, I found the path leadl
through, the thick forest in many
ices actually covered with the
shews which had fallen from the
;es on either side. It is a delicious
lit, sometimes of a red and someues
of a yellow color, with the kidv-shaped
seed on the outside instead
the inside, like other fruits. This
;ter is roasted, and is esteemed a delicy
by many people, but if not carelly
prepared is apt to cause blisters
the lips. We had no difficulty in
ing our baskets with as many
shews as we required, and were
out returning to the boat when one
Mr. B.'s sons, who had been some
tie distance away sauntering about
the bush, called to me to come back,
d, on going to where he was, he
inted to what seemed a broad band .
moving leaves right across the path,
d, on looking more closely, I saw we
r? mpf- with nnp nf those enormous
:arms of the "parasol ants" which
e so destructive to plantations in the
Dpics. They were crossing from onq^
le of the wood to the other, and were ~. :
iveling in a column of more than
foot and a half in width; and as each
sect carried in its mouth a piece of
if which entirely covered the body,
ey presented a singular appearance,
:e a Lilliputian grove in motion; and,
though we watched them for some
ne, still they came, their numbers .
eming to be inexhaustible. coining
n turn them from their course; and,
though they may be destroyed by the ousands,
enough will swarm upon .~~TTCrj?
e intruder to make him repent inter- ,'J^S
ring with them. On the mainland
: South Africa I have known a fruit -JgB
ee stripped in a single night by a
varw of these ?nts.?London Field*

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