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The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, April 25, 1883, Image 1

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. ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER !
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BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, APEIL 25, 1883. NO. 45. VOLUME XXVII. ||||
? : i "" '-VnSfrM
THE KING'S MOTTO.
A lovtT (rave the weddinc ring
Into the goldsmith's hand.
"Grave nie," ho said, " a tender thought
Within the golden band."
The goldsmith graved,
With careful art?
"Till death us part."
i The wedding bell rang gladly oat,
I Tho husband said, " 0. wife,
I Together we shall share tho grief,
\ The happiness of life.
I I give to thee
i My hand, my heart,
I Till Death us part."
'Twas she that lifted now hi* hand,
(0, love.that thi* should bo!)
Then on it placed the golden band,
And whispered tenderly:
" Till Death us join,
Lo, thou art mine
And I am thine !"
" And when Death joins we never more
Shall know an aching heart,
TVia Viriflnl r\f tfint lovfl
Death 1 as no i~.o-.ver to part.
Tluit troth will bo
For thee and me
Eternity."
Soup the hill and down tho hill,
^ Through fifty changing years,
They shared each other's happiness,
They dried each other's tears.
Alas! alas!
That Death's cold dart
Such love can part!
But one sad dny she stood alone
Beside his narrow bed ;
She drew the ring from off her hand,
And to the goldsmith said:
" Oh, man, who graved
With careful art,
'Till Death us part,'
"Now grave four other words for me,
' Till death us join.' " He took
The precious golden baud once more.
With solemn, wistful look,
And wrought with care,
For love, not coin,
"Till Deathns join."
A TRIP TO WOODYILLK.
"If Syra is as pretty at sixteen as
she was at six, be sure and send her to
me to spend the summer. My husband's
nephew, Eustace Gaynor, is
here, and I should like to have him
make her acquaintance. It would be
a good thing for Syr a."
Thus ran the postscript of Mrs.
Dora Smith's letter to her niece, Mrs.
Lawton, who, seventeen years before,
had married and left her home with
her aunt to reside in the city. Aunt
and niece had been almost* uninttrruptedly
separated since.
^ The letter found Syra Lawton at the
end of her first season, " Pcachvheeks "
he* father calied her; her mother's
title for her was "Rosebud." You
would not have ditectod a flaw prol)ably
in the girl's health, after her season
of dancing and late suppers ; but
there was a slight languor and indifferent
appetite. And then came
Aunt Dora's letter.
Just the thing !" said Mr. Lawton.
"Post Syra right off, Nellie. She has
had enough fashionable folly for this
year. Send her right up to Aunt
Dora, among the blueberry pastures!"
But Mrs. Lawton hesitated.
. " I don't know as Syra would like
it," she sail.
She remembered the great kitchen
at Oaklets, where most of her youth
was spent, and it didn't seem likely
that pretty Syra, playing waltzes with
a dainty touch in the next room,
would be contented there.
To be sure, Aunt Dora had a whole,
comfortable and pleasant house ; but
sho was very decided in her opinion
that girls ought to ham to be good
housekeepers, and her whole forenoons
and many if her afternoons
were spent in that same comfortable
Kitcnen.
Shemade the whitest bread, sweetest
butter and best jelly in the country.
She could do almost everything
to perfection, and she had sent Nellie
forth into the world almost as capable
.a housekeeper as herself.
But with Mrs. Lawton it was different.
"Beautiful Syra had been too
[ ' daintily kept to share in the labors of
the house, where, in truth, household
help was kept in such plenty that soiling
those little hands had always
seemed superfluous.
But Mrs. Luwton knew very well
that Aunt Dora* would disapprove
such "bringing up" of the girl, and
her conscience reproved her that Syra,
at sixteen, could not make a loaf of
bread.
" It would be a good experience for
her, for Aunt Dora, though strict, was
always very considerate in her training.
Syra has been to too many
dances this winter. The air is splendid
at Oaklots. She shall go," she decided.
Then the subject must be broached
to Syra with a certain tact that the
trip might prove a success.
" My Aunt Dora wants you to come I
to Oaklots for the summer, dear?the j
moat beautiful of all placos ! and father !
is very anxious you should be in the I
country this summer. You remember 1
I Aunt i)ora, do you not?'' "No;
but I should like to go very !
much," said Syra.
" Papa will go up with you the first
of next month; and September 1, I will .
come up with the boys, make auntie a j
visit, and bring yoa home fresh as a
rose and brown as a berry, I expect. 1
But, Syra, Aunt Dora is very domes-!
tic, and will want you to learn the
ways of a housekeeper and to assist
her. I expect you will be willing?"
Syra said " Yes," lightly.
"She will want you to do things
[ about a house and do them very j
i nicely. It will be good for you, the !
L? training; and if sometimes a little
F irksome, be patient and faithful and ;
try to please auntie,for she was the best ;
friend of my girlhood. Will you re- j
member this, my dear Syra?" And!
Syra promised.
The gay society season was quite at!
an end, and in the strong suns or
April the crirl imagined the country, i
of which she had seen little, would be I
beautiful. The parks and public gar- j
dens were already bright with emerald j
turf and white wisteria. She had a |
youthful love for such sights ; wide j
old Oaklots would be a scene of en- j
chantment, she believed. She had
often heard her mother talk of the
blcom-white apple orchard, the fields
and brooks. She should have a-delightful
summer, she was sure.
* But at the last moment it turned
out that Mr. Layton could not accom|
pany his daughter upon her journey, j
* and Syra's mother coum not go, ior .
the two youngest boys were down i
with measles: but the" letter was already
dispatched announcing Syra's j
speedy coming, so it was desirable that
she set forth at once, and the girl declared
she was not afraid to go alone.
"There is no change of cars, my
girl," said her father, as he snatched
half an hour to see her aboard the
train. "'Twill go right through and
be at Woodville beiore dark; Aunt
Dora will have a carriage at the depot,
or, if anything prevents, take the mailteam?a
very commodious vehicle,
with a civil driver, who will pass her
door on his way to the postoffice.
fNow see what a little woman you can
be."
And with a look of solicitude and a
word of encouragement he was off,
and the cars rolled out of the depot,
taking Syra upon her journey.
She had every essential f i r her trip,
from her pretty traveling suit to a
well-packed lunch basket and a book
for reading.
It was a bright spring day, and Syra,
having had her ticket punched and reM
quested the conductor to notify her
^ when approaching Woodville, leaned
hack in her seat with a feeling of enjoyment.
She was naturally fearless, and enjoveii
the enterprise of her trip alone.
At noon she atti her lunch and commenced
her bo'?k, which, diversified
with watching the change of passengers,
absorbed the afternoon. Hut
she was getting a little tired when the
conductor, passing, said :
" NVxt. station's Woodville," miss."
Syra aroused herself and looked out
at the window : lonely, gray fields and
no houses. Ten minutes later she
sprang out upon a platform station
and looko.l bewildered about her.
The train rattled away; the fbw
persons who had alighted with her disappeared,
as it' they had sunk into
the jrround. There was not a form in
sight upon the cheerless spot hut a
long, lank young man, who nl?glit?d
fmm an old wagon and approached
her.
Bo you Mrs. Smith's niece, eh?
Well, then, I'll take you right up."
Syra had mechanically responded to
his question in the aflirmalive, but
when her uncouth escort would have
gallantly taken her hand to lead her to
the wagon she drew Iwk.
" In that?"' she exclaimed, involuntarily.
"I never rode in su'h a thing
in my life 1"
The young fellow looked from the
dainty girl to the mud-bespattered old
wagon, and answered:
Reckon ye didn't. But that's what
yer aunt sent me in fur ye, and J
reckon yell have to go in it."
For a moment Syra silently contended
with her emotit us. She had
expected her aunt in a comfortable
family cairiage lo meet her. Such a
reception as this seem d little short of
an insult. But she remembered that
she was quicK-iemperea uuu uicu iv
control herself.
fche certainly preferred to think no
effense was meant, and swallowing the
rising in her throat she walked to the
wagon and climbed in.
" I'll bet she (ton't expect the likes uf
you," remarke 1 the young man, ambiguously,
as he mounted to a seat beside
her and jerked the old lean horse
into motion.
Syra did not reply; she was busy
looking over the dismal landscape with
a sickening heart?barren fields, leafless
trees, small, poor, scattered houses,
half-hidden in the gathering gloom.
And was this the yoiihg man her
father had jestingly alluded to at parting,
warning her to break no hearts
before he saw her again? She thought
not.
Syra had never felt so utterly miserable
in her life as then, while she
jogged along the lonely, darkening,
muddy road replying in monosyllables
to her companion's chat.
"Is Aunt Dora well?"
" Eh ?" sharply.
"Is my Aunt Dora as well as
usual?"
? i MoVftn ?hn isj Vnvpr he.ird her
called that before. However, I s'pose
she is. Law! she don't have no time
to be sick. 1 guess you'll find that
out," meaningly.
At length they drew up before ?low,
unpainted, rambling farmhouse, with
shutterless windows, bleakly unsheltered
under the cheerless sky.
Syra began to fear she should cry,
and cleared her throat briskly. The
young man threw open the door.
" Walk right in. Vou'll find her."
Syra passed directly into a rude, unpainted
kitchen as big as a barn,
lighted only by a single small lamp.
A great dog growled inhospitably at
her from some dark corner, and if
poor Syra had known of any refuge
she would have turned and fled from
this accumulation of horror.
As she stood silent in the gloom a
door unclosed, and a tall, scantily
uresseu woman came 11110 u>c rumu,
and having both hands full deftly
kicked the door together behind her.
44 Eh !" she said sharply, advancing
to a small rickety table and setting
down a milk pan and a plate of brown
bread; "soyou've come, have ye?"
"How do you do, auntie?" asked
Syra. forcing herself to approach the
very unsavory-looking lady and kiss
her smoke-dried cheek.
44 I'm well." answered Aunt Dcra.
placing her arms akimbo, and sharply
surveying her little niece. 44 Well, of
all things!" she ejaculated, at last.
A feeling of faintness came over
Syra. She sat down, uninvited, and
the very ugly dog came and smelled of
her dress.
44 I'd as lief you'd be ruggeder-looking,"
remarked Aunt Dora, drily, as
she turned away.
l'o< r Syra! She tlad a very hard
struggle, with herself not to break into i
passionate sobs; but at length she con- j
quered, and clearing her throat again ;
attempted conversation.
"Did you expect me tc-day, auntie?" |
'Expect ye? Of course, 1 sent
for ye."
" i know. Papa hoped to make the
journey with me but couldn't. Jiut I
did very well alune."
" "\\Yll, draw right up here, eat your
supper an' go to bed. I'll want you to
help me to-morrow."
Quite quenched as to sociability,
Syra took off her things, handing her
pretty hat to her aunt, who surveyed
the ostrich plume with curiosity and
an audible sniff, and took a seat at the
rickety table, whereon was the sickly
lamp, the milk pan, brown bread and
some coarse bowls and pewter spoons.
"Take right hold."
A ml Oituimr+liot Alinf
""u ? v ,"o '-v * " ,
Dora filled a bowl with milk, 1-roke a
slice of brown bread into it and pushed j
it toward the girl.
The lady's hands were very dirty, I
the bread was very sticky and peculiar 1
in flavor, and Syra could only pretend |
to force down a few mouthfuls. She i
was dizzy and faint and would have j
given much for a cup of her mother's |
delicious chocolate.
Seeing that she did not eat ner com- i
panion suddenly presented her with a ;
cuj) of very black-looking tea.
" I s'pose yer tired," she said, not
unkindly.
" Yes, aunt, I am very tired. I'll
go to bed at once, if you please."
Mrs. Dora rose with an energetic 1
alacrity peculiar to her, and, seizing
the lamp, led the way up a cold, dark
stairway to a bedroom, with damp, j
bare, white walls, and a great feather j
bed, piled high with homemade quilts. I
She sat down, with no apparent idea !
of giving oflense, watched Syra \in-!
dress, openly examined her skirts and |
stockings, and when the girl had !
shiveringly crept into bed between the |
sheets of ice, tor>k the light away.
"I'll call ye in the morning," she
said. I
If the evening had been unpleasant,
the night was torture. It seemed to
Syra that she should perish with cold
and dread of her forbidding surroundings.
At 10 o'clock she heard her male
j companion coma stumbling up the
stairs and retire upon a creaking bed;
stead somewhere in the neighborhood.
But not one moment all night did
I she forget her sufferings. .Tust before
I dawn she lo.st consciousness of her
I misery, when a rude hand grasped her
! shoulders.
"Good land! This is a pretty beginning
! Coin' to sleep all day V It's
past 5 o'clock ! I've called }e twice!"
Poor Syra started giddily up in the
gray light in amaze. At home she
often lingered on her luxurious pillows
I aCter the bell had sounded a quarter
: to 7 through t he summer warmth of
the furnace-heated house.
j Such a tfr/itle day as that was!
! Mrs. Dora instru t d her. in as few
word ; a; possible, in was! ing a sta k
! of milk cans an I pans, and the soft|
soap and scalding water were anguish
' tol er tender hair's.
| Then she was s -t to paring apples
' for p es, until an indelible stain of
app'.e-Juice was set in the poor little
"V f
I
fingers, which she regarded so ruefully
that Mrs. Dora took notice.
" Oh, ye c an't keep ver hands white
here ! 1 didn't get ye fer that."
Poor Syra ! She stumbled about in
her auut's long calico dress, mixed
brown bread and " ginger cakes,"
[ironed, swept, scoured knives and
forks, brewed yeast and churned. She
could not eat the breakfast of salt fish
and potatoes, or the dinner of fried
pork and e-gs, the latter being cooked
to the consi t-ncy of sole leather ; and
trembling with fatigue, she was at
length caught with two great tears
rolling down her cheeks.
" For pity's sake!" exclaimed Mrs.
Dora. " Don't know notliin', an' don't
eat notliin', an' now cryin'!"
Syra sank into a chair in a tempest
of tears.
" Oh, I can't help it! I'm so tired
?and so?so sick !"
Voices outside the door?a knock.
There was Mrs. Dora's nephew, a 1 all,
stout girl, very bashful, a carriage containing
a sweet-faced, elderly lady and
a pleasant young gentleman.
" How do you do, Mrs. Smith?" said
tho former. "There has been a
mistake. I expected my niece last
night at the depot. My nephew was
a iittle late for the train and did not
find her. This morning's express
brings this?your niece. *is mine with
you ?"
Mrs. Smith nodded.
" Law sakes!" she said, turning to
Syra. "So that's your aunt?Mrs.
Dora Smith, of Oaklots?rich folks!
I'm Dorothy Smith. I thought it
queer my sister should send on such a
peaked thing as you are J"
Syra waited to hear no more. She
tore off Mrs. Dorothy's calico, hurried
on her own things and ran out to the
carriage.
"Why, my darling!" cried sweet
Aunt Dora, and Syra clung speechlessly
to her for a moment. " I
couldn't sleep last night for worrying
over why you had not come, and Eustace
here was up bright and early, to ;
be on hand for the morning's express.!
He found that vountr woman, whom
fie was sure wasn't you, inquiring for
Mrs. Smith, anil the station agent told
a strange story of a very pretty girl
riding off with Joel Smith last night."
"So glad we have found you said
Xephew Eustace to Syra, with tho
kindest of reassuring smiles.
Syra's journey was at an end. It
was delightful at Oaklots, Aunt Dora
the wisest and dearest of teachers and
friends and when mamma came up in
September, she was not displeased that
there was a diamond engagement ring ]
on her daughter's little hand.?Esther
Strle Kenneth.
Burnslde and the Kentucky Belle.
Major Ben l'erley I'oore, the wellknown
Washington correspondent,has
recently published a life of General
Burnside. The general was a native
of Indiana, and was entered as a cadet J
at West Point from that State. lie
was graduated in the class of 1847,
went to Mexico and joined tho army
under Scott then engaged in "cons
quering a peace" from that countrj'.
* '?? ?.innAPcfnl /?lnon nf wnr
U1C OUttUO^lUi t-IU.JV/ vj. vttv/ ???% .
he was granted a furlough and visited
his family, residing at Liberty, Union
county. ' While at home on a previous
visit," says his biographer. "Lieutenant
Hurnsidc had made many acquaintance*
in the neighboring town
of Hamilton, (). Among them was
a Kentucky belle, who united to
the vivacity of the North the soft
and languid style of the South.
She was highly educated, and
her industry in acquiring knowledge
was only surpassed by her conversational
power to impart it to others. |
The young oilicer was dazzled by her j
personal beauty and accomplishments, '
charmed by iicr affability and bewitched
by her fascinations. Offering
his hand, it was accepted; the necessary
license was procured, and on the
appointed day lor the nuptials the
young couple stood up before a clergyman
to be joined in wedlock. Asked
whether he would take the woman to
be his wedded wife, etc., Jiurnside resTHirwifd
nilirmativelv. but when the
question was put to her whether she
would take him for her husband, etc.,
she said* No,' and could not be prevailed
upon to change her mind. A
few years afterward a distinguished
Ohio lawyer obtained from the same
lady a promise to marry him,
and the wedding day was
lixed. lie had heard of Burnsides'
humiliation, and oil their way to
church exhibited a revolver, and admonished
her that she would return
either his wife or a corpse. "When the
important question was propounded
sho promptly replied?whether from
love or fear?*1 will,' and made a
most devoted wife.
" By a curious coincidence General
Burnside, when in*"command of tho
military district of the Ohio, the lady's
mother and sister were airested as
they were about to go .South, carrying
f.nrrounnni)cnfn !iml .'irtlcleS COIltHl
band of war on their persona. The
general ordered the'.n to be sent through
the Jines, and the husband of his former
lady love hail hard work to obtain
from President Lincoln permission for
them to return home."
The Great Storm.
There is no storm on record that
equaled in violence and destructive
power the one of October 10, 1780,
known as the " Great Storm." It was
generated in mid-Atlantic, not far
from tbe Equator, and was lirst felt in
the Barbadoes. There the bark of
trees was removed, either through the
effects of the electric action or the
fury of the wind; cannon were driven
along the batteries and Hung over into
the l'osse. A French transport lleet
of fjrty vessels, carrying 4,000
soldiers, was overtaken bv the storm
and completely destroyed at Martinique.
And the governor at Martinique,
reported tlm loss to the French government
by these three words?"The
vessels disappeared." At Martinique
0,000 persons perished ; at St.
t>: fl.Aiif.iml .mil not ;l hnilSH
I it-Ill", Hill ?...v
left standing. Scar dy u vessel was
atloat near St. Domingo, St. Vincent, St.
Eusiache and l\>rto Kico on October 11.
Seven churches and 1,400 houses were
blown down ami sixteen wounded persons
buried beneath the ruins of
the hospital at Port Koyal.
Fifty Uritish ships were driven ashore;
two l:ne-of-baltle ships went down at
sea, and 22,000 persons perfshed at the
Uermudas. A twelve-pounder cannon
was driven a distance of .400 feet. On
th? Leeward Islands part of Ihv walls
of the central j)art of the government
building, nearly a yard thick, where
tin residents of the government building
took slHtcr, was broken down and
r,iof t.-iiccn off. Some of the heavy
| cannons \v<re driven from their stand
, by the power of tiie wind; a id when
: the day br >ke n;>taleif, scarce even
I a branch, remained on the Ires.
Quietly Sarcastic,
lie came homo late the other night,
and his wife woke up and found him
| with a burning match trying to light
. the col I water tap over the marble
j basin in his dressing room.
" James," she said, " that is not the
gas burner."
I " I know it, my love," he replied,
, unsteadily; " fact is, I've been overj
worked, and that's the reason I made
the mistake."
j ' Yes, you look as if you had been
lifting a good deal," she quietly anj
swered, as she returned to her pillow.
The postal money orders in the connt
ry la <t year aggregate 1 $ 1 ^0.000,000, of
; which $ii.50U,o00 were on l'oreign ac
count. The net profit to the govern!
ment was $1G5,OOU.
President Arthur has five sisters
and one brother.
/
A PECULIAR COMMUNITY.
A PEEE REPUBLIC WITHIN THE BOBDEES
OF LOUISIANA.
A IHnlay Settlement of Fishermen Without
n Woiiinniii It-Habits and Perullnrltlc*
ofaStrnnifO I'coplc.
For years past most remarkable reports
about a Malay settlement at the
l mouth of a small bayou running into
! Lake. Uorgne on the extreme southern
limit have been in circulation. Tales
which would have furnished material
for many volumes of sensational literj
ature have been twice told about this
J peculiar spot, until the passage of time
1 and the absence of accurate detail conI
rerning this terra incognita gave to
j them the corroboration of general ac|
quiescence, and .St. Malo was regarded
by those who heard of the settlement
j as akin to thp buccaneers' resorts of
i x.ui>ariuueciu ui mu nijntciiuuo
j retreats of the smugglers of the Span{ish
main. It is true, now and again
j some indefatigable amateur hunter or
j fisherman would stray into its neigh'
borhood.but. they never remained long,
| and their short visits served rather to
j heighten the color of past rumors than
i to tone them down to the matter-of|
fact standard of to-day.
All that was definitely known was
i that many years ago a number of na!
tives of Manila, one of the Philippine
| islands, north of Java, had established
! themselves in a village on a piece of
land in the sea marsh of Louisiana,
near a bayou, and there with miles
| and miles of rustling rushes and reeds
I between them and civilization had
j built up an autonomy of their own,
I holding allegiance to no power or poi
tentate, and, though within the geoj
graphical boundary of our State and
the United States, yet beyond the
i reach of its laws. A stern and rigidly
I enforced statute of the colony was
that of complete exclusion of the female
sex, and many were the ghastly
j traditions of the enforcement of this
j ordinance.
According to the whispered story,
shortly after the settlement was made,
! and the small-eyed natives of the Paj
cific began to thrive with their fishery,
| one of their number, following the example
of the average American eiti[
/.en, as well as the dictates of a semi1
Mongolian taste, carried thither a wife,
I and established her at the head of his
little household. Within a few months
afterward unpleasant reports began to
spread in the village, at first against
the chief, and then against the smallest
and most insignificant fisher's assistant
there. Gossip, with her idle tongue,
invoked private enmity, where brotherly
love existed before, and old friends
found themselves separated by some
maligning slanderer. Fends were
| created. The crease and the knife
were resorted to, and the peaceful St.
Malo threatened to become a place of
sickening deeds. The older heads
| gathered together and discussed this
unlooked-for change in the affairs of
their microcosm. The logic of facts,
bv a verv simple induction, pointed to
the woman as tlie cause, and her fate
was sealed. Traditions differ as to the
means taken to bring about the desired
result. One has it that she was tied
out in the marshes to a stake for the
mosquitoes to suck out her life-blood;
another tells of the short shrift of a
knife and a severing of the bloody
limbs from the headless trunk. It
matters little which may be true, the
result remained, and woman never
more set eyes on St. Malo.
The fishing is conducted bv companies,
each of which is composed of
a captain and four or five men. The
captain is generally the owner of the
seine. They start out in fine weather
down the shore of Lake Borgne and
haul the seine until a sufficient quantity
is caught to fill their cars. All
return to St. Malo, where the fish are
j bunched and sold to luggers which ply
between that point and New Orleans.
TiiP first, share coos to the seine, and
then all take share and share alike of
the proceeds. Each man, when lucky,
! clears between 15 and $18 per week,
j They do notcare for the cold, 'and work
winter and summer, although summer
is the best fishing season. The men
live on rice, fish and beans, and once a
week they get meat. They are all contented
without wives, and seldom
have trouble with one another. When
they first came they built their houses
with latanier (palmetto) leaves and
witli straw from the marsh; now they
are built of cypress.
Xo such tiling as a warrant of a
court, a tax bill, a lawyer, a doctor or
an election is known there. Their only
iiififrnt! fn spttifi theirdismites are arbi
trators selected by those who dispute
the property in a skiff, a bunch of lish
or a pirogue. When a man gets drunk
on liquor brought on the luggers from
the city, and he gets noisy, he is immediately
taken down to a fish car,which
is simply a large skiff, some ten feet
long, decked over with open seams
about an inch in width, so that when
it is afloat the water will flow through
it to keep the fish alive. The drunken
man is put in the fish car, the sliding
door on top is closed and a peg inserted,
lie is then safe. If he becomes too
obstreperous the car is pushed out into
the water until it is half filled, the cold
bath effectually quieting the ardor of
the prisoner.?New Orleans Times.
Mot His Well Dutr.
An Irishman took the contract to
dig a public well. When he had dug
nhnnf. t.iventv-five feet down, he came
?? ? """ V
one morning and found it caved in?
Jilled nearly to the top. Pat looked
cautiously around and saw that no
person was near, then took oil' his hat
and coat, hung them on a windlass,
crawled into some bushes and waited
events. In a short time the citizens
discovered that the well had caved in,
and seeing Pat's hat and coat on the
windlass they supposed lie was at the
bottom of the excavation. < >nly a few
hours of brisk digging cleared the
loose earth from the well. .Just as the
eager citizens had reached the bottom,
and were wondering where the body
was, Pat came out of the bushes and
good-naturedly thanked them for
relieving him of a sorry job. Some of
the tired diggers were disgusted, but
the joke was too good to allow anything
more than a hearty laugh, which soon
followed.
Chief or the Cattle Thieves.
John Kinney, leader of all the Xew
Mexico rustlers and tne man wno ims
proven such a terror to the cattle
interests of the Territory, is about
thirty-two years of age, live feet seven
inches in height, stout, rather bloated,
weighs 1G5 pounds, llorid complexion,
light-brown hair, blue eyes, full, round
face and light moustache, lie is a
braggart, talks loud, drinks hard, lacks
prudence, has killed two men, brags of
killing others, is bold, but lacks nerve,
lie is believed to be an Irishman.
! Kinney has been operating in Southern
I New Mexico, Texas and old Mexico
I for three years. He was formerly a
soldier in the Eighth United States
cavalry. He has a ranch in a cottonwood
grove south of Kincon, where he
has spent most of his time since leaving
the army, butchering and shipping
stolen cattle. Kinney is a sort of
major-general, having command over
all the rustlers.
1 It has been said that the most valuable
man is he. who while superior in
one thing, is fairly good in several;
and the same truth holds good in mental
and moral life, as well as business
. or profession. The finest mind is that
1 which, though strongest in a favorite
line of thought, is able to run with
, ease in many others; and the best
moral character is that which, while
excelling in certain good qualities
, which are spontaneous, has yet acquired
many others in which it was de
J ficient.
WISE WORDS.
When a man speaks the truth you
may count pretty surely that ho possesses
other virtues.
Whatever you win in life you must
conquer by your own efforts, and then
it is yours, a part of yourself.
Man wastes his mornings in anticipating
his afternoons, and wastes his
afternoons in regretting his mornings.
When there is love in the heart
j there are rainbows in the eyes, covering
every black cloud with gorgeous
j hues.
We love much more warmly by cherj
ishing the intention of giving pleas|
ure than an hour afterward when wo
! have given it.
j Every man cherishes in his heart
! sonic object, some .shrine at which his
adoration is paid, unknown to his fellow
mortals.
"We have seen a prudent, industrious
v ife retrieve the fortunes of a family
when her husband pulled at the
other end of the rope.
Life is made up, not of great sacrifices
or duties, but of little things, of
which smiles and kindness and small
obligations, given habitually, are what
win and preserve the heart, and secure
the comfort.
It is better in s >roe respects to be
admired by those with whom you lire
than to be loved by them. And this
not on account of any gratification or
vanity, but because admiration is so
much more tolerant than love.
HEALTH HINTS.
We unhesitatingly advise parents to
warn their children against the unnecessary
swallowing of orange or
lemon seeds. Cherry-pits are to be discarded
by the more cautious, though
their form does not so well prepare
them for urging their way into the appendix.
All seeds of a larger character
may be avoided, and when the appendix-veriniformis
is thought of they
will be. To this end instruct the littlo
ones.?Dr. Footc's Health Monthly.
Dr. T. P. Kinnicutt draws the fol
1U?11J? LUXlUUClVliJ Atv/Iit V..V
obtained in twelve case? of acute
rheumatism treated by o'.l of wintergreen
: 1. In the oil of wintergreen
we possess a most efficient salicylate
in the treatment of rheumatism.
J. In its efficiency in controlling the
prexia, the joint-pains and the disease,
it at least ranks with any of the salicyl
compounds. The best method
of its administration is in frequently
repeated d ses,continued in diminished
does throughout the convalescence. 4.
lis use possesses the advantages of
being unattended with the occasional
toxic effects, the frequent gastric disturbance
produced by the acid or its
Fo lium salt, even when prepared from
the oil of wintergreen; that its agreeablotaste,
and, finally, its comparative
Cheapness .'ire further recommendations
in favor of its employment?
British Medical Journal.
Force of Habit.
Some wonderful stories are told concerning
the forc3 of habit. A traveler
in Italy relates the case of a priest,
who, for tiie purpose of self-mortification,
condemned himself to sleep for a
certain period of time upon a bed of
spikes, it sort of inverted harrow. For
a long time the practice was what it
Intended to be, the severest kind of
penance; but, the habit after awhile
became not only endurable, but indispensable?so
that after his perird of
penance had expired, the devotee actujUly
retained possession of his couch
from preference. On the same principle,
soldiers, who have passed many
years in the field, sleeping in tents or
in the open air, have found a roof and
a bed within doors intolerable, and
sleep unattainable, except by a renewed
resort to their old campaign
habits. Maryatt relates a strong example
of the force of habit in the case
of a certain chaplain in the navy, who
had formerly been a lieutenant on
shipboard, and who, whenever his ship
came into action, could not refrain?
such was the force of habit?from
seizing a sword a^d mingling personally
in the contest, notwithstanding
his clerical garb an I functions. A
footman promoted to a gentleman by
an unexpected legacy and living in
great style, could never break himself
of the habit of running to the door
whenever he heard the bell ring.
During the siege of Boston, when (Jeneral
(Jage granted permits for females
only to leave the town, a young man
i-.i 4.1.?
attempted LU pilB9 till; HHQ vn^iiiooa
as ;i woman. The sentinel on duty
doubted whether the pretended lady
had the necessary permit. " Yes, I
have," responded she, or rather he.
"I've got it here in my pantaloons'
pock'.t." As in trifle.-*, so in mora
serious matters, the force of habit is
frequently invincible. Many inwbriates,
though convinced of the fatality
of their course of life, are yet enslaved
by habit to their d< struction, and it
requires an iron energy, constant
watchfulness over themselves, on the
part of the reformed, to avoid relapses
into their old habits. Only perseverance
will overcome these obstacles;
new modes of life become habitual,
and the force of old associations will,
of course, grow daily weaker and less
imperative.
Some Annoyances or Russian Lire.
Xo one is allowed to enter Russia
without a passport duly vised, or to
! leave the country without a stamped
permission to do so. lint thesj passI
ports are easily obtained, and can lie
| duly vised in London and elsewhere
| without person application. Tliey
| contain simply the name, without any
I description of the travelers; they are
I collected and submitted to the authoriS
ties by the captain of the ship on
entering the country, and by the hotelkeep>T
when permission to leave is
required, and while causing great
annoyance and some expense to the
i ordinary traveler, they seem of little use
| for detective purposes. The hotel-keepersat
St. Petersburg are obliged, under
heavy penalties, to report to the police
twice a day the names of all travelers
who enter or leave their hotels. Each
householder in the city is compelled by
the government to have a DvornicK "
to watch his premises. These dvornicks
are men of the peasant class, who sit
(lay and nighf wrapped in their sheepskins
at the entrance of the houses,
their oilice being apparently that of
half watchmen, half spy. An order was
issued a short time ago that no one
should walk in the streets of St. Petersburg
without a passport, but the
absurdity and annoyance of the proceedings
were such as to compel the
withdrawal of the order. Newspaper
editors are only allowed to give, on
certain rmjccts, such views as are per*
mitt d by t'.ie government, and on sonm
questions are forbidden to write at all.
For ign newspapers are stopped at tho
' ' V? /I ulfr liOP
pUSLOIIlW, UllUii iiciu uiv^n.
and when delivered at all have any
objectionable parts or paragraphs
! stamped out and made illegible. The
; London Times frequently appears with
r | paragraphs or portions of the columns
;! b!o?ked out in this manner. A gentleman
riceived his newspaper a short
time ago with the whole of it cut away
with the exception of the advertisements.
It would take too long to
enumerate the many petty and other
annoyances which official zeal imposes
on the ordinary ljfe of the Russian peoi
pie, and which have to be accepted
, without public remonstrance or critii
cism.?Fortnightly Review.
Dark basket straw bonnets, trimmed
, with wild roses, are sometimes accepted
, favorites.
Opium smoking is a common vice in
Nevada among a 1 classes of people.
THE QUiiEN'S WATCH DOG.
JOrffr BEOWN, THE PERSONAL ATTENDANT
or VZCTOKIA.
In Ilcr .Scrr!cn Thirly-four Year*-?The
Unocn'n Attachment for Her AttenilnntTlie
Trouble Which II it Cnuncd nt Court.
John Brown, the well-known personal
attendant of Queen Victoria,
who died recently at "Windsor castle,
at the age of fifty-six, had passed thirty-four
years In the s:rvic3 of her
majeity and the late prince consort.
John J3ro\vn in England was much
more widely known than many of the
members of the nobility, and throughout
the long years of his faithful service
the queen was attached to him so
greatly that he ofte:i became* a bone of
contm'ion among the courtiers who
were jealous of his inliuence over her
majesty. lie was a Scotchman, thq,son
of a small farmer who lived at the
I Bush on the opposite side to Balmoral.
lie began his service in tho royal
family as a gillie, in 1819, and was selected
bv l'rince Albert and the queen
| to go with her majesty's carriage. He
| was with Victoria continually during
j her life la the highlands of Scotland
I trom 1848 to 18G1, entering the service
of the royal pair permanently in 1851,
when his duty was to lead the queen's
pony on lier excursions. After the
death of the prince consrrt in 18G1,
Victoria became more than ever attache;!
to her humble Scotch servant,
;ind in December, 18G5, she promoted
him to the position of personal attendant
or body guard to herself. From
that time until his death the queen
never appeared in public without .John
Brown, and he followed her everywhere.
His wishes were often much
more potent than those of the members
of the court, and whenever he
was ill a Scotch physician was brought
from Scotland t) attend him, because
John had no faith in English medical
skill. Of late years Brown's overbearing
and dictatorial manners have
caused a good deal of unfavorable comment
among the nobility and others,
whom he annoyed when they were
visiting the queen. lie was not liked
by the l'rince of Wales or the Duke
of Edinburgh, who complained that he
did not know his place; but the more
lie was. snubbed by nob'es and princes
the more graciously the queen smiled
upon him and added to the favors
.which she bestowed on him. Among
the special favors granted him was the
exclusive right to shoot over some of
the royal preserves, and quite recently
the queen threw open the state apartments
at Windsor, at his request, for
the mayor of Windsor, after having
refused to do so for others of high rank.
John Brown proved an invaluable man
to the queen's household, and his personal
attachment to his mistress was
undoubted. Ilis personal anxiety on
her account amounted almost to a
mania. It is said that he was greatly
worried two years ago when the queen
was shot at by a lunatic, because he
had not been able to prevent the shot
from being fired, and because the man
was captured by strangers in the
crowd instead of himself.
John Brown was not treated by
the queen as a mere servant.
Ha was rather a friend and confidential
adviser. He was not of
importance enough to be admitted
to the royal table, but he was too great
a man to eat with the servants of the
household, and the result was that
when the queen traveled three lunches
had to be prepare 1?one for the royal
party, t ne for the servants and a, t'.ird
one for John Brown. It is said that
John, with the proverbial Highland
shrewdness, feathered his nest- well
during the long years of his service.
A recent London letter speaking of
him, shows the familiarity which existed
between him and the queen, and
the trouble which it caused at court:
" Ladies in waiting of exalted rank,"
it says, " have rebelled openly against
the breach of etiquette his familiarity
has created, ami refused to be ma le a
party to it; but, snubbed by them, I13
was only the more graciously treated
by his roy.il mistress. lie follows the
queen like a shadow from palace to
palace, in public and in private, behind
her chair at her meals, in the
rumble of her carriage in her
drives, bending over to exchange
a few words, and calmly
possessing himself of her field-glass
to inspect some distant maneuver at a
review." The queen herself, writing
of John Brown in 1867, in a foot-n- te
in her "Journal of Our Life in the
Highlands," fays: "His attention,
care and faithfulness cannot be exceeded,
and the state f.f my health,
which of late years has been sorely
tried and weakened, renders such
/iiialiftnnfmnc v:l1iih1j1p. iind. in
....... ~ ,
deed, most needful, in a constant attendant
upon all occasions. He lias
all the independence and elevated
feelings pectdiar to the Highland race,
and is singularly straiglitfoi ward, simphvminded,
kind-heartixfr and disinterested.always
ready to oblige and of a discretion
rarely to b3 met with." Brown
was a heavily built, line-looking Scotchman,
six feet one inch in height, with
a broad chest and a well-developed
muscle. lie had a large, full face and
high forehead, a well-shaped head,
with gray hair at the sides, well
brushed up to hide the bald spot on
top. His appearance and his devotion
to the quern caused him to be
known throughout England as the
"Watch Dog."?iVe/0 York Tim ?v.
How >'ot to Drown.
Many persons have wondered that
all animals seem to possess an in
stinctive knowledge of swimming,and
that nmn alcne lucks this gift. Dr.
Henry McCormac, of Belfast, Ireland,
writes that it is not necessary that a
person knowing nothing of the art of
swimming should drown, if lie will depend
on the powers for self-preservation
with which nature has endowed
hiin. The pith of the doctor's remarks
is contained in the following paragraph
:
When one of tlie inferior animals
takes the water, falls, or is thrown in,
it instantly begins to walk as it does
when out of the water. But when a
man who cannot "swim" fiills into
the water, he makes a few spasmodic
struggles, throws up his arms and
drowns. The brute, on the other
hand, treads water, remains on the
surface and is virtually insubmergeable.
In order, then, to escape drowning,
it is only necessary to do as the
brute does, and that is to tread or walk
the water. TI.e brute has no advantage
as to his relative weight, in re
J spect to the water, over man ; ami yet
the man perishes while the brute lives.
I Nevertheless, any man, any woman,
! any child who can walk on the land
may also walk in the water just as
; readily as the animal does, and that
| without any prior instruction or drill|
ing whatever. Throw a dog in the
water and he treads or walks the water
instantly, and there is no imaginable
reason why a human being under
like circumstances should not da the
same. The brute, indeed, walks the
water instinctively, whereas a man h:is
to be told.
Decrease In Postage.
Forty years ago it cost six cents to
send a letter from New York to Brooklyn;
ten crnts to send it t?? Xewhurg;
twelve ana a half to ('atskill; eight- ei
and three-quarters to Saratoga; t wentyiive
to Cincinnati. A b>M step, taken l?y
Congress in 1651, dn l ired that a single
letter should be carried anywhere in tiie
country within miles for three
cents. There had been one intermeditate
step, half a doaen years before,
reducing postage to five cents for
a distance of 300 miles oz less, and to
' ten cents above that distance.
The photographer's business is always
at a standstill
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
Baron Nordenskjold is to undertake
an Arctic expedition to North Greenland
this year.
Tennessee lias 4,32G manufacturing
establishments, operating a capital of
$20,092,845, and employing 22,445
hands.
The largest pump work3 in the
world are at Seneca Palls, N. Y Two
hundred and sixty hands are employed.
Jf. Janssen has found the high
desert plateaux of Algeria to have an
atmosphere so remarkably clear that
the moons of Jupiter are visible to the
naked eye.
A deep, brilliant black upon iron
or steel may be produced by applying
with a fine hair brush a mixture of
terpentine and sulphur previously
boiled together.
Thb Wisconsin legislature has
passed a bill which provides that all
goods manufactured by convict labor
shall be distinctly rnnrkal ;;.c: uJi before
being put upon the market.
Here is a hint by Dr. -G. Boeck
which may be of industrial value. If
potatoes are peeled and treated with
pi-rht n.'irts .sulnhuric acid and 100
I AT
parts of water, and then dried and
pressed, a mass is obtained very like
celluloid, and which can be used instead
of me.rxhaum or ivory. It is
not stated whether the invention is
protected by a patent or not.
Professor- Iieinsch thus gives the results
of his researches regarding the
manner in which coal has been formed,
lie had examimd with the microscope
not less than 2,500 sections of coal,
and had come to the conclusion that
coal ha I not been formed by the alteration
of accumulated land plants, but
that it consisted of microscopic forms
ot' a lower order of protoplasm, and
klthoiij-n lie had carefully examined
I he CL'lls and other remains of plants
of a higher order, he computed that
they have contributed only a fraction
of the m;iss of coal veins, however numerous
they may have been in somo
instances.
Making: Fiddle Strings.
The name " catgut," as applied to
the animal-liber strings used on musical
instruments, i? altogether a misnomer.
The cat is in no wise responsible
for the string, and, much as the
fact is to be deplored, the manufacturers
of such strings refuse to utilize
cats for the supply of their material.
Aminadab S'.eek, amended to accuracy,
should speak of "they who scrape the
hair of the horse upon the bowels of
the lamb"?not the "bowels of the
cut." Violin, guitar ancl banjo strings,
and in fact all sorts that coine under
the general head of 44 gut," are made
from the entrails of lambs and cattle,
from the delicate threads used for
sewing racket ball covers up to the
half-inch thick round belts. After a
lamb is seven months old its entrails
are no longer fit for making strings
for violins, consequently this branch
of the manufacture can only be carried
on a few months in each year.
44 Few people," said Mr. Turner, a
New York manufacturer, to a Sun reporter,
,4 have any idea of the many
uses to which gut strings are now put.
They are used .to hold up clock
weights, for belting, for the lacing on
lawn tennis and racket balls, for lacrosse
scoops, for weaving tine whip
covers, for jewelers' drills, and for a
thousand things, I suppose, that even
I do not know of. Anglers'leaders or
snells ? Xo, not at all, although most
people have an idea that these are
made of gut. That material would
never do for such a purpose. It would,
get soft in the water in a few minutes
and the ttsli would eat it off. In fact,
I don't know but what it would be a
good bait. Most so-called gut' leaders
.ire made from silk and the best
from a marine plant.
' All the work of making gut
strings is about the same, but greater
rare ha* to be exercised in preparing
those intended for musical instruments
than others. The process ot' manufacturing
those is comparatively simple,
but far from easy. When the entrails,
for which a gomi price has to be paid,
are thoroughly cleaned, they are split
with a razor. " Only one half is fit for
use in violin strings. That is the upper
or smooth half. The lower half is fatty,
rough, and of unequal thickness. The
strips are put through rollers turned
by hand for eight or nine days, to take
all the stretch out of them. Then they
? T?;,rn civ
are spun, ur tnutcu. ? n v
strands go to make an E string, eight
or nine an A string, and twenty are
put into a J) string. Then they go
through a bleaching bath of sulphur
funics. After that they are twisted
again. Then they are softened in
pearlash water, again subjected to the
action of the sulphur fumes, twisted
again, dried, and linally rubbed down
smooth with pumice stone. Altogether
it takes ten or eleven days to
make a string. When done they are
seventy-two inches long?four lengths
for a violin?and thirty of them coiled
separately and tied together make up
the 'bundle' of the trade."
A Frontiersman in a Hotel.
L'UpWUU fillll A CclIVU twuoiucigu i-i
L. .Jenkins one of his best, scouts and
speaks of him in terms of'the warmest
praise. When Jenkins joined Peake's
command he had been away from civilization
for years, and the captain on
one occasion having to pay a visit to
the capital city of the Lone .Star State
t' ok Jenkins along with him. When
they reached Austin .Jenkins, who was
in the dress of a frontiersman and
armed to the teeth, attracted a great
deal of attention, and the boys followed
him about in crowds, ile
thought this ovation complimentary
to hims'lf and invited the curious
juveniles to the nearest confectionery,
where lie spent all his money treating
them to candy, soda water and ice
(ream. When niuht came the captain
took Jenkins to the Raymond house
for supper. The dining-room was
crowded and tha table was resplendent
in its setting of glass and silver.
Jenkins advanced to the table, drew
his bowie-knife, speared a biscuit and
a piece of steak, and stepping back
began to eat as he had been accustomed
to eat in camp, standing up. with his
bowie-knife and lingers answering all
purposes. A grinning servant invited
him to be seated.
' Xo. thankee," was the answer,
"I'm doing tolerable well here."
He was assigned a room at the hotel
furnished in the most luxuriant man- I
ju ? . !
ner, Willi SOIL CHrpcwiS mil HII1HI..IC |
and a downy bed. When the captain
went in to arome liim next morning,
.Jenkins w.isstretched out on the Ibor,
wrapped in iiis blanket.
Why didn't you sleep in the bed?"
disked the captain.
"I did try the blame thing,'' was
the answer, " but I bogged in it cleai
over my head."
Advice to a ** Oiidc."
By the way, we heard the other day
quite an amusing story about a leading
dude uptown, who imagined himself
dangerously ill and sent his "body
servant" for a physician. The medical
man felt his pulse and n ade an inspection
of his tongue, and then remarked:
" Yours is a serious case, young man."
"From what am I suffering, doctor?"
inquired the now alarmed dude. ''From
pointed shoes, elevated shirt co'lar,
too-tight trousers, Newmarket coat,
and general idiocy," responded Dr.
Candor. "And," he continued, ;is he
took up his hat and prepared to depart,
' my advice to you is to go on a farm
?a farm where you can get plenty of
fresh milk!"?American Quern.
There are 20,000 stands of 1ms in
Nebraska. One; bee keeper harvested
G,000 pounds of honey last y?-ar.
WHERE GOLD IS DROSS.
A BEFOBTEB I2TVADES A PEBFTTME
VAWPACTOBT.
Flowers Worth More than Their Weight in i
the Most Precious of Metals?1The Value
ot Rose. Jasmine and Lavender.
"Smell of that," said a perfumer, at
his place of business, to a reporter of
the Syracuse (N. Y.) Herald. lie
pulled the cork from a big bottle containing
the tincture of ambergris and
rubbed it upon the back of the reporter's
hand. "The basis from which
that tincture is made," he said, " came
from a sick whale. It doesn't smell
very pleasant, but when combined
with other things it makes a sweet
perfume."
"You got that stuff from a sick
whale?" the reporter asked.
"Why, yes," said the perfumer, his
eyes closing as ho smiled. "It is a
morbid secretion of the liver of the
whale, and is principally found lloating
upon the seas .of warm climates,
intermixed with remains of the food
of whales. When of good quality it is
of a bright gray color, streaked with
UlilCK. clUU JtJllUW, au SUJLt tllrtt lu maj
be flattened with the finger. Persons
engaged in whale fishing look for
ambergris in the intestines of the
spermaceti whale, and are most successful
in those that appear torpid,,
sick and lean ; whence it would seem
that it is a product of disease. It is
found in lumps weighing from one
poufld to twenty or thirty pounds, and
is worth $32 an ounce, or twice as
much as gold." ^
" Do you use it in the manufacture
of perfumes?''
" Yes ; I'll tell you how, In the first
place, it costs $1,500 to manufacture
one ounce of perfume. That is to say,
a man who wishes to go into the business
will have to lay out about that
sum to start. There are six flowers
which are used in the work?the bases
of all perfumes?violet, cassia, rose,
tuberose, jasmine and orange flowers.
These flowers are grown in France,
except the violets, which are raised in
Northern Italy. They are plucked and
thrown into long pans filled with
suet, which is kept just hot enough to
keep it melted. The flowers are left
in that way for twenty-four hours,
when the suet is drawn off and treated
to another batch of flowers. This process
is continued for twenty or thirty
days, until the strength required has j
been attained. It is then put into
cans, and in that shape is sent to this
country. They are called pomades. I
take these pomades and cut them with
cologne spirits. I then freeze the substance
and run it through a filter.
The suet is thus kept apart and
I have the pure flower perfume.
It is very sweet and delicate,
but when exposed to the air it soon
itQ qtxr'norfch. Therefore we com
bine it with what are called the fixing
ingredients, which hold the odors and
the essential oils. Take one of my
perfumes for instance. To make it I
have two large vessels. Into one I
put the flower washings of tuberose,
rose and violet. To these I add the
tincture of tonca, vanilla, ambergris,
musk, civet and tolu. This mixture
is thoroughly shaken. In the other
vessel I put the essential oils?orris,
attar of roses, ro3e geranium, neroli,
langlang and patchouly. These oils
are cut with cologne spirits. The contents
of both vessels are then put
together aift thoroughly mixed." The
substance is afterward filtered, and
then allowed to stand for a month to
get age. It is then ready for the market.
The perfumer's artistic work is
in studying the affinities and blending
the scents, as a painter does his colors."
An acre of jasmine plants, 80,000 in
number, will produce 5,000 pounds of
flowers, valued at $1,250; an acre of
rose trees, 10,000 in number, will yield
2 000 nounds of flowers, worth $375;
300 orange trees, growing on an acre,
wiil yield, at ten' years of age, 2,000
pounds of flowers, valued at $350; an
acre of violets, producing 1,000 pounds
of flowers, is worth $800; an acre of
cassfa trees, about 300, will, at three
years of age, yield 900 pounds of flowers,
worth $450; an acre of geranium
plants will yield something over 2,000
ounces of distilled attar, worth $4,000;
and an acre of lavender, giving over
3,500 pounds of flowers for distillation,
wiUyield a value of $1,500.
The perfumer manufactures about
fifty different kinds of perfumes, in
which he uses eight different flower
washings, fifteen tinctures and about
thirty-different essential oils. The latter
are very expensive, and the bases
from which many of the tinctures are
made cost much more than gold.
The manufacture of perfumes is
now chiefly carried on in Paris and
London, and in various towns along
the Mediterranean, especially in the
south of France. In England some
of tne essential oils are prepared from
herbs on a large scale. In the Northnm
T'nifpri states manv of the essences
and essential oils are also largely prepared,
the woods furnishing the
wintergreen, sassafras and other
sweet-scented plants, and gardens the
peppermint, rose, etc.
Perfumes are not obtained from
plants alone. The delicate scent of
(lowers has been traced to certain oils
or others, which can he elaborated
from substances associated only with
the most disgusting odors. The fetid
fusel oil, by different methods of treatment,
produces oils not to be distinguished
from those of various fruits; the
noisome oils of gas tar are made to
yield the nitro benzole, known as the
oil of bitter almonds; and from the
drainage of cowhouses is extracted an
essential ingredient in the famous can
de mille fleur.
""Why is it that America cannot
make as good" perfumes as the old
country ?" the reporter asked.
"Because," he replied, "in France
4i._ ?o?nfn?tiirora frtit thpir nclnrs rli
LIIU juauiiia^buiviu ?*-? vmw.. ?
rectly from the flower, while Americans
are obliged to import the odors in
the pomades. When this country
begins to raise its own flowers, I don't
know any reason why we can't make
just as good perfume :is does Lubin."
There are gardens in Louisiana and
California where flowers for perfume
purposes are cultivated, and it is said
that the product compares favorably
with that of France.
Catching the Eye of the Speaker.
The order of morning business (says
Hen I'erley l'oore, in writing in the
Century of Congress and the "Capitol
at Washington,") is unintelligible to
strangers, and is merely the successive
recognition by the speaker* of those
members who have obtained from him
.? rn-nmiuu tlijvfc thpv ran have tlift
floor. In keeping these promises
the speaker often pays no heed to
members in the front seats who are
endeavoring to attract his attention
by cries of " Mister Speaker!" in every
note in the gamut, accompanied by
frantic gesticulations, and "recognizes"
some quiet person beyond them.
" I have been a member of the House
three successive sessions," said an indignant
Tennessean who had vainly
tried to obtain the floor, " and during
that time I have caught the measles,
the whooping-cough and the influenza,
but I have never been able to catch
the speaker's eye."
Siberia, instead of being the desolate
waste pictured to the imagination
is, in reality, the garden of Russia, ami
many of the exiles sent there have he- j
come rich and prosperous.
The treadmill was invented by the
Chinese to raise water for the irrigation
of the fl&lds,
.j
i&M.-'* -
FASHION NOTES. 8 :S.f.
Double apron fronts for dresses are' 88
Bright plaids are much . worn by
Plain silk mitts are more worn than
lace ones. ? f
All colors are fashionable, but red is *'
most in favor. .
Lace of all kinds is still to be used .
in great profusion. ' '-3:
Long French mits in silk, in shade3 to
match costumes, are preferred to
kids. ,
Pipings and cordings in bright material
are profusely used on children's
dresses. All
the different shades of pink and ,.Ji
of golden and reddish browns are in
demand. t* "
Tlie mode of cutting and finishing ;
garments in the tailor style gains in
popularity. .
The Newmarket jacket is now tha
favored completion to walking and 33
visiting toilets.
The newest ornaments are in tor- .
toise-shell inlaid with gold, iridescent
beads and amber.
Plain ottomans, double-faced satins v'%
and velvet ribbons faced with satins
are the standards.
Tlie chudda, Virginia afid cricket
cloths are employed for soft and at- 'S
tractive costumes.
Watteau and {esthetic wrappers, . /<k
made with yokes on which a full skirt
is shirred, will be worn.
Lemon-colored ottoman gauze and
cashmere on terra-cotta Luton straw >
produces a novel bonnet. ?
Leather-colored cashmere, embroidered
in leather-colored floss, is making
a distinguished costume.
The best tournures are a part of th3 ^
jupon, and composed < f fluunces or
ruffles falling one over the other. xga&
The rage for historic costumes ha?
gone, but lel't its result in many varied
styles, modified or suggested by it. ?3
N"on3but tall and slender women
can wear some of the stylps which lha
inventors are trying to introduce this
season.
Flower and figure designs in vanish- ^#3
ing effects are produced in some of the
checked stuffs by the shading of the J9|
checks or blocks. *
"White lace jerseys are much employed
as bodices design for bride- + M
raids' dresses of wliite Ottoman silk, or
of brocaded gau: e, edged with wide
ruffles of Oriental lace. ,
ures3 .skirts have obtained grea'.er 91
importance since they are less hidden
by overdrapery. The tunic or scarf is aH
shorter than it has been worn of la'.e, yWftjm
covering only a portion of the under-' ' 1 ~*gfj
skirt, which is now plaited or adorned
with shell plaitings, ruches and narrow
ruffles.
Skirts, kilted or box-plaited l.alf ri&Kffl
tiieir length, or more, are quite as
fashionable as ever. Thess trimmi'ngs,
although simple in effect, take
a large quantity of material, and for jp^M
this reason, perhaps, have neVer be- sHli
/m.,. *..n HH
come COrniU'JIl. 1 lit* H mu, mu yuttw
known among dressmakers as " tuy- SrcsS
aux," falling in rounded folds like or- -jj?
gan pipes, are more suitable for thick
materials, such a? velvet, plush an^I
cloth, than flatly pressed plaits. Great "
variety of effect can be produced in;
plaited skirts by the arrangement of ^
the folds.
Life's Small Troubles.
Shirt button of! on a cold morning. is
Shoestring breaking and none to iXfgj
su pply its place. ^9
"Fixingyour mouth" for favorite
dish at,restaurant and hearing waitor
say, "Allout, sir."
bown six flight of stairs and on
the sidewalk, l'ocketbook missing. ^
Man in barber shop one second alioa I .' agj
of you taking the only unociupicd *
chair. , . j*
Getting the left shoe on the rig!:t
foot. And vice versa.
Letter written to somebody and ca i't
remember liis address. Mixed betweca .
201 and 102.
Very hungry. Rush at the restaur- <^?S8
ant. Waiter overwhelmed with orders .
forgetting you.
i?-iinv <i.iv f.-illPil nn business.
*??*.... v..v. ? _____
Eighth lloor. Down again. Forgotten
umbrella:
Preparing to write a'letter. llisar- I
able pen. No envelopes. Ditto stamps.
Postoftice.half a mile off. ' "JBi
Lettsr written. One jfage. Ilurry. fKSj
Wanted blotting paper. Gone, as h
usual. '.
Button, off coat. Seen for thiitytwo
mornings, and regular detfnrii- I
nation to speak to wife about it. . \ v|?
Never recollected until sjeti at identi*
cal liour and minute next morning.
Street car. Always pulls up and to
blockading you on the crosswalk. J|
Going home at night. Pockets full ,|?
of things for the family. Change for
car fare at the bottom of the most
overloaded pocket. : * <
Collar button breaking or pulling ^
out just as you've finished dressing. ^
Worse. To return home after spending
the evening in company and iinagining
you have shone brilliantly and
I (in^inn > rill In r Out at the
UUUtlig u ivy W4MVV* X.?..... . . .v^_y
buttonhole.
Daily thought of the letter you
ought to writs. Matter of duty.
Always put off. Thought recurs >
thrice a day and makes you sick.
Getting to bed, wrapped up aid ' V ;v
almost asleep. Forg t to lock the
doors. ^6
Very cold night. Wake at 3 a. m.
Uelow zero. ?Slieet3, blankets ail
quilts worked into a complicated n II.
Unable to get feet permanently un 'er
cover. Half an hour of internal discussion
whether or no to arise and re- >
organize the be J covering.
Shaky bedstead. Tendency of sla's
to fall out. Crash immediately after
i
getting into bed. Or awakening at
dead- of night and finding the bottom
out and yourself shaped like a V.
In use of mucilage. Xeck of bot'le
all "stuck up" with deposit and
brush stilt and hard.
Split sock getting between t!ie to* s.
Bit of walnut chucked into s'r>?*. *
Not felt until you're out doors. Always
hides until it can ea'.c'.i v u
where you can't help yourself.?
York Graphic,
Favored the Plaintiff.
An Arkansas man who was ejected
from a railroad car shortly afterward
brought suit for damages, and after
a long and intere sting hearing of t.ie
case the judge delivered the following
charge to the jury: ^
The plaintiff boarded the train for
the purpose of traveling a short dis- 0jbSM
tance. lie had no money?a fact
which he fr.inkly confessed. Then*
was plenty of room in the car, so the ' r&jp|
plaintiff was in no one's way. The s'vJ
train was in the habit of traveling the
road?in fact, it lias to go along tin re.
| Th; train would have to arrive at its
1 destination just as soon if?lie plaintiff \ mm
had not been on board. The maohin- 'Hnff'
ery would not have l>een worn any r
more by hauling the plaintiff. The J
j president of the road would not have <
I been in the least injured. And now.
in view of all these facts?that the
train had to go any way, that there
was plenty of room in the car, and
that the train would not have been in- J
jured by the plaintiff?1 charge yon to J
bring in a heavy judgment in favor of 1
the plaintiff, and then, as a healthf nl i
I example to all parties concerned, tha
conductor be sent to jail for six I
months, and also t'rat the clerk of this ' 1
j court furnish the president of the road v 1
I with an account of these proceedings,
together with an opinion that he, tho M
president, don't live far enough up the
| creek to tramp on the coat-tail of this 'fl
cotirL

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