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I m s '" ^ m mm y mu ^nvKi \V3 ^«1 vm n i 1 s§ r-i U ZÏ SIS I luftL off mm 74 ~""v ■ W ''«»Jti^' >w ''' 4*5! 5c Volume 9. Helena, Montana, Thursday, September 23, 1875. No. 44 THE WEEKLY HERALD PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. D. W. FISK. A. J. FISK. }FISK BROS., Publishers ERfflS OF SUBSCRIPTION. rity On< Out* One One TERMS FOR THE DAILY HERALD. M.lwn ibors (delivered by carrier) per month. .$3 00 BY MAIL. rti-iY one month... , ,,j,v three month? .................. f 3 00 ..................... 6 00 MX months........................... 12 00 i>y one year.............................. 22 00 TERMS FOR THE WEEKLY HERALD. Nix months......... Throe months...... ............ 2 50 THE FOOTSTEPS OF DECAY. Oh, let the soul its slumber break. Arouse its sense«, and awake To see how soon Life, iti its glories, glides away. And the stern footstep* of decay Come stealing on. And while we view the rolling tide. Down which our flowing minutes glide Away so fast. Let us the present hour employ And deem each future dream a joy Already past. Let no vain hope deceive the mind, No happier let us hope to lind To-morrow than to-day ; Our golden dreams of yore were bright, Like them the present shall delight— Like diem decay. Our lives like lasting streams must be That into the eugulnng sea, Are doomed to fall— The sea of death, whose waves roll on, < >'er king and kingdom, crown and throne, And swallow all. Alike the river's lordly tide, Alike the rivulet's humble glide To that sad wave 1 Death leaves poverty and pride, The rich and poor sleep side by side Within the grave. < >ur birth is hut the starting place ; Life is but the running of the race, And death the goal ; There all our glittering toys are bought, The path alone, of all unsought, Is found of all. See, t/ien, how poor and little worth Are all these glittering toys of earth, That lure us here— Dreams of a sleep that death must break, Alas ! before it bids us awake, We disappear. Long ere the damp ot earth can blight The cheek's pure glow ot red and white, He passed away. Youth smiled, and all was heavenly fair— Age came and laid his linger there— And where are they ? Where is the strength that spurned decay, The steps that roved so light and gay, The heart's blithe tone ? The strength is gone, the step is slow, And joy grows wearisome and woe, When age comes on ! TRIED A YD THEE. It was the carnival season in Paris; and Colonel Eugene Merville, an attache of the great Napoleon's staff, who had won his way to distinction with his own sabre, found him self at the masked ball in the French Opera House. Better adapted in his tastes to the field than the boudoir, he flirts but little with the gay figures that cover the floor, and joins but seldom in the waltz. But at last, while standing thoughtfully and regarding the as sembled throng with a vacant eye, his atten tion was suddenly aroused by the appearance of a person in a white domino, the universal elegance of whose ligure, manner and bear ing convinced all that her face and mind must be equal to her person in grace and love liness. Though in so mixed an assembly, still there 'vas a reserve aud dignity in the manner of the white domino that rather repulsed the idea y a familiar address, and it was some time before the young soldier had the courage to s PÇak to her. . ^otae alarm being given, there was a vio rush of the throng toward the door, buere, unless assisted, the lady would have materially suffered. Eugene Merville offers bis arm, and with his broad shoulders and sh'Ut frame wards off the danger. It was a delightful moment; the lady spoke the purest x rench, was witty, fanciful and captivating. "Ah! lady, pray raise that mask, and rc 'fal tome the charms of feature that must accompany so sweet a voice aud so graceful a form as you possess." "You would, perhaps, be disappointed." "No, I am sure not." "Are you so very confident?" "Yes,-I feel that you are beautiful—it can not be otherwise." . "Don't be too sure of that," said the dom mo. "Have you never heard of the Irish 1 'oei Moore's story of the veiled prophet of Khorasau—how, when he had disclosed his countenance, its hideous aspect killed his be loved one. How do you know but that I shall turn out a veiled prophet of Khorasan?" "Ah, lady, your every word convinces me t° the contrary," replied the enraptured sol 'licr, whose heart had began to feel as it never felt before; he was in love. She eludes his efforts at discovery ; but Permits him to hand her to the carriage, "'hieb drives off in the darkness, and though he throws himself upon his swiftest horse, he ls unable to overtake her. The young French colonel becomes moody: he has lost his heart, and knows not what to do. He wanders hither and thither, shuns hm former places of amusement, avoids his military companions, and in short is as ihis erable as a lover can well be thus disappoint ed. One night, just after he had left his ho iei on foot, a figure muffled up to the very ears, stopped him. "Well, monsieur, what would you with me ?" asked the soldier. "You would know the name of the white domino ?" was the reply. "I would, indeed," replied the officer has tily. How can it be done?" "Follow me." "To the end of the earth, if it will bring me to her." "But you must be blindfolded." "Very well." "Step into this vehicle." "I am at your command." And away rattled the youthful soldier aud his strange companion. " This may be a trick," reasoned Eugene Merville, "but I have no fear of personal violence. I am armed W'ith this trusty sabre and can take care of myself. But there was no cause for fear, since he soon found the vehicle stop ; aud he w r as led, blind folded, into the house. When the bandage was removed from his eyes, he found himself in a richly furnished boudoir, and before him stood the white domino just as he met her at the masked ball. To fall upon his knees and tell her how much he had thought of her since their separation, that his thoughts had never left her, that he loved her devotedly, was as natural as to breathe, and he did so gallantly and sincerely. "Shall I believe all you say ?" "Lady, let me prove it by any test you may put upon me." "Know, then, that the feelings you avow are mutual. Nay, unloose your arm from my waist. I have something more to say." "Talk on forever, lady ! Your voice is music to my heart and ears." "Would you marry me, knowing no more of me than you uow do ?" "Yes, if you were to go to the very altar masked!" he replied. "Then I will test you." "How, lady?" ' 'For one year be faithful to the love you have professed, and I will be yours as truly as heaven shall spare my life." "Oh, cruel suspense !" "You demur?" "Nay, lady, I shall fulfill your injunctions as I promised." "If at the expiration of a year you do not hear from me, then the contract shall be null and void. Take this half ring," she contin ued, "and when 1 supply the broken portion I will be yours." He kissed the little emblem, swore agam and again to be true, aud pressing her hands to his lips, bade her adieu. He was conducted away as mysteriously as he had been brought thither; nor could he by any possible means discover "where he had been, his companion rejecting all bribes, and even refusing to answer the simplest ques tions. Months rolled on. Colonel Merville is true to his vow, and happy in the anticipation of love. Suddenly he was ordered on an em bassy to Vienna, the gayest of all the Euro pean capitals, about the time that Napoleon was ^planning to marry the Arch Duchess Maria Louisa. The young Colonel is hand some, manly, and already distinguished in arms, and becomes at once a great favorite at court, every effort being made by the wo men to captivate him, but in vain ; he is con stant and true to his vow. But his heart is not made of stone ; the very fact that he had entertained such tender feelings for the white domino had doubtless made him more succeptible than before. At last he met the young Baroness Caro line Von Waldroff, and in spite of his vows she captivates him, and he secretly curses the engagement he had so blindly made at Paris. She seems to wonder at wUftt she believes to be his devotion—and yet the distance he main tains. The truth was that his sense of honor was so great that, though he felt he loved the young baroness, and even she returned his affection, still he had given his word, and that was sacred. The satin domino is no longer the ideal of his heart, but assumes the most repulsive form in his imagination, and becomes, in place of his good angel, the evil genius. Well, time rolls on ; he is to return in a few days—it is once more the carnival season; and in Vienna, too, that gay city. He joins in the festivities of the masked ball, and won der fills his brain, when, about the middle of the evening, the white domino steals before him in the same white satin dress he had seen her wear a year before at the French Opera House in Paris. Was it not a fancy ? I come, Colonel Eugene Merville, to hold you to your promise," she said, laying her hand lightly on his arm. Is this a reality or a dream ?" asked the amazed soldier. "Come, foil >w me, and you shall see that it is a reality," continued the mask pleas antly. "I will." "Have you been faithful to your promise?" asked the domino as they retired into a salon. "Most truly in act; but, alas, I fear not in heart." "Indeed." "ii is too true, lady, that I have seen and love l another; though my vow to you has kept me from saying so to her." "And who is it that you love?" "1 will be frank with you, aud you will keep my secret." f&' 'Most religiously." "It is the Baroness Von Waldroff," he said with a sigh. "And you really love her?" "Alas, only too dearly," said the soldier, sadly. "Nevertheless, 1 must hold you to your promise. Here is the other half of the ring ; can you produce its mate ?" "Here it is," said Eugene Merville. "Then I, too, keep my promise," said the domino, raising her mask, and showing to his astonished view the face of the Baroness Von Waldroff. She had seen and loved him for his manly spirit and character; nnd bavins: found by inquiry that he was worthy of her love, she to to Of of do to of by ers be us an med the been and had managed this delicate intrigue, and had tested him, and now gave him her wealth, title and everything. They were married with great pomp, and accompanied the Arch Dutchess to Paris. Napoleon to crown the happiness of his fa- vorite, made him at once a General of Division. - . ■ —* <■»> M- —-- GLOWING ELOQUENCE AND SCATH ING INVECTIVE. Extracts from the Eulogy Pronounced hy Hon. Thomas Fitch on the Character of the late William C. Ralston, at the Memorial Heeling in Union Hall, Nail Francisco, KcgktemOcr 8th. Eulogy ! What part of human speech can fitly eulogize the man we have lost ? What brush of artist, or pen of dramatist can depict the benefactions of his generous life, aud the tragedy of his heroic death? His deeds speak for him in tones that souud like the blare of trumpets ; his monuments rise from every rood of ground in your city. His eulogy is written on ten thousand hearts ; Commerce commemorates his deeds with her whitening sails and her laden wharves ; Philanthropy «chimes ihe bells of all public charities in at testation of his liberality ; Patriotism sings peans for him who in the hour of the Na tion's struggle sent the ringing gold of mercy to chime with the flashing steel of valor. [Applause.] Unnumbered deeds of private generosity attest his secret charities ; sorrow has found solace in his deeds ; Despair has been lifted into hope by his bounty ; there are charities whose heaven-kissing spires chronicle his donations to the cause of relig ion ; schools claim him as their patron ; hos pitals own him as their benefactor; Art has found in him a supporter ; Science leaned on him while her vision swept the infinite ; the feet of progress have been sandaled with his silver. He has upheld Invention while she has wrestled with the dead forces of Nature, lie was the life of all enterprise, the vigor of all progress, the epitome and the representa tive of all that is broadening and expansive and uplifting in the life of California. [Ap plause.] YY ould you show honor and hospi tality to travelers renowned in letters, arts or arms, Ralston was the princely host ; did you wish to forward a public or a private charity, Ralston headed the subscription list; would you develop a new industry, to enlarge the resources of the city, start a new manufac ture, add wealth to the State und furnish hundreds of husbands and fathers with con tented aud well-paid toil, you went to Ralston for advice and assistance. He impressed you with his power ; he in fused you with his energy ; he touched you with his princely generosity; he conquered you with his magnetism. His vitality was like the flash of steel; his enduring energy was like the steady and swift flow of a cata ract ; his beneficence was like the copious and searching philanthropy of the summer rain [Applause.] Of all her possessions, the com monwealth of California never owned any more valuable than this man's life. [Ap plause.] Of all public disasters she had none greater than his death. [Applause.] Of all her shrines there should be none more sacred from desecration than his memory. [Ap plause.] a it of a plause.] And the people of San Francisco will be false to every impulse of justice and manly honor if they allow the hounds of treachery, cruelty and falsehood who ran hot upon his trail while living, to now lay their slanders upon his new-made grave. [Applause and cries of "Never!"] I say with you, "Never!" Rather let every honest hand grasp a whip to scourge these merciless dogs into their den —into the editorial rooms of the San Fran cisco Bulletin and Call. [Applause.] I say, my fellow-citizens, that YVilliam C. Ralston was stung to death by the blood sucking vermin of the press. I am not here to question the verdict of the Coroner's jury ; but even if Mr. Ralston had wrought his own destruction—if, denuded of all early posses sions; if, bereft of house and home; if, wounded in spirit; if, shorn of hope, his great heart left the earth and sought the swift current that should carry his life out through the golden gate of death into the peaceful ocean whose shores are the confines of Eter nity—if this had been so, who shall gainsay his right or question his decision ? [Applause. ] Of all his vast possessions, he retained noth ing, not even a winding-sheet. He went out of the world as he came into it. He left everything to his creditors. "His creditors!" do I says ? YVhat man so presumptuous as to call William C. Ralston his debtor? [Ap plause.] The people of California, collect ively, owe him enough to offset all private liabilities, and the balance to bis credit in the Eternal Ledger is large enough to acquit him of all the errors of a princely life. [Applause. ] We have heard something to-night of a guarantee fund to enable the Bank of Cali fornia to resume business. Many of our hon ored and wealthy citizens have, as your pre vious speaker has told you, evinced a com menable and liberal public spirit in contribu ting to that fund. Notably has a Senator from your neighboring State of Nevada en deared himself to a hundred thousand hearts by stripping the cloak from his own should ers to walk backward with it to cover the body of his friend. [Applause.] I do not doubt that the guarantee fund will be filled with ringing dollars and the great bank will go on. But where shall our guar antee fund be found ? YVho shall make up to us the loss of our benefactor and our friend ? Who shall guarantee the generous and the great-hearted against the viperous assaults of an infamous newspaper ? Who can hope to escape after Ralston ? A star has been dim med and quenched by the tireless splatter of the slums. The king of all the animals has been slam by the leper of the reptiles. [Ap plause.] The life of William C. Ralston has been taken to gratify the sordidness, the envy and the malignancy of a couple of base wretches. My. fellow-citizens, I am not here to at I tempt to cast reproach upon the genius of a free press. It is the great economic illumi nator of all practical human aspects, politics, art, religion, society, morals. It is at once the tribunal of taste and the articulator of thought. It is the handmaid of enterprise, the fortress of order, the mailed, invincible right arm of freedom. [Applause.] Like commerce, it gives health and vigor to the life of nations ; like commerc, its scep ter stretches from the shining temples of the Orient to the swimming forests of the Thames. Its shrouds stiffen and its white sheets fill with the winged gales of Progress, beating foaming paths through conquered w T aters, dashing on steeds of fire along iron ways, harnessing the elements to its chariot, reading the mysteries of the magnet, making a courier of the lightning and guides of the sun and stars, it courses its way in majesty, in power and in glory over a boundless sea of possibilities, and its dominion broadens with every swelling of the tide. [Applause.] Its many colored fabric is meshed and fash ioned in the beneficent loom of cumulative emprisy, and its shifting shuttle marks the pace of the world's advance. But if piratic hands grasp the scepter and change it to a murderous cudgel ; if its bellied sails are blackened with fumes from hell, and bloated with the charnel house's vapors ; if, instead of argosies engaged in fair trade, we have slavers, seeking their cargoes in the fever-haunted jungles of * slander; wreckers, lighting false beacons to lure noble ships upon rocks of confidence; pirates, whose decks are slippery with the blood of their victims ; if, narrowing the horizon of its op portunities down to spite and hindrance and slanders foul and stale and false and inhu man, the press becomes the plunderer of the reputations of men living and dead, then, even as the nations of the earth combine for the extermination of the outlaws of the sea, so ought communities to combine against the pirates of the press. [Great applause.] Have we not such pirates among us ? Why, fellow citizens, for twenty years the San Francisco Bulletin has crouched like a bloodless frog on a stone, [laughter,] gloating and croaking and puking in the face of nature. [Applause and laughter. For twenty years it has lived on the morbidness of public sentiment and the depraved appetites of the curious and the envious. It has traduced the living and de famed the dead ; it has never advocated a measure of public utility ; it has never devel oped an industry; it has never aided charity; it has never encouraged a public work ; it has never put bread into a man's mouth, or hope into a woman's heart. [Applause.] Its life has been sordid and soulless, cruel to all generosity of impulse, and uncompensating to mankind. Its track has been marked with the slum of its slanders, aud the blood of its victims. I will not enumerate the great hearts that have gone to their graves smarting with the sores inflicted by the slanderous arrows of the San Francisco Bulletin. You know' them as w T ell as I do. And I say to-night, in this presence, that its existence is a blot upon the lair form of noble journalism and a dis grace to the civilization of San Francisco. [Applause.] My fellow-citizens, in the name of him w T ho has gone ; in the name of the gallant heart now pulseless in death at Lone Mountain ; in the name of that spirit which broods above this presence and flashes from your eyes to-night ; in the name of our civi lization and our chivalry ; in the name of all the impulses of human nature ; in the name of God, let this be the last man slain by the San Francisco Bulletin. [Tremendous ap plause. A voice—"You are right."] Let us have no violence, no destruction of types or presses; nothing to bring disgrace upon order or law, nothing to give the people who own the sheets an opportunity to make dam ages out of the city : but let every man in this vast assemblage, and every man who can be influenced or reached by the voice of any member of this vast assemblage, form from this time forth a resolute determination never to advertise, nor to buy, to touch, or to have anything to do with the accursed sheet. [Tre mendous applause.] So may we legally and effectively accomplish the result. So may we vindicate the memory of our benefactor. Let us do as men do to destroy scorpions when they encircle them with fire. Let us environ it with the fire of public indignation, and let it die as the scorpion dies, stinging itself to death. [Applause.] Gold, Silver, and Silver Bullion—Some* thing; to Cut Ont. E. B. Elliott, of the Bureau of Statistics, has prepared a paper on the mutual relations, as to price, of gold, greenbacks, silver bul lion, and silver coin. The following tabular statement shows his conclusions: In the statement the dollar ot silver bullion and the dollar of silver coin are each assumed to be 25 grammes of silver of the fineness of 9-10 —the same with regard to quality and fine ness as that of the legal fractional currency of the United States—price June 5,1875. The gold price of $100 in greenbacks is $85 50. The gold price of $100 in silver bullion is $88 01. The gold price of $100 in silver coin is from $92 to $95 ; consequently the greenback price of $100 in gold is $117. The silver bullion price of $100 in gold is $113.06. The silver coin price of $100 in gold is from $108 07 to $105 03. Also, the greenback price of $100 in silver coin, from $107 0G to $111 01. Also, the silver bullion price of $100 in silver coin is from $104 05 to $108. The silver bullion price of $100 in green backs is $97 02. The following letter was written to Victor Hugo by a woman, who requested that her name be kept secret : "lam one of those whom you succored during the siege of Paris. You gave me one hundred francs, and when I said to you, T hope to be able to repay you. To whom shall I pay the money ?' you re plied, 'To the poor.' I am now able to fulfill your wish. I have w'orkeil, and I have the fruits of that work. I have one hundred francs to spare. I send them to you for the sufferers of the inundation (pour les inondes .) a an of all in two yet. you lar it. man FASHION. Jniui«' June on the Fall Com! time of Hat» The great popularity accorded to felt last season seems to have increased rather than diminished, and has simulated the manufac ture to such an extent as to greatly improve the fabric. The new fall hats are all felt, aud the higher grades are not only very fine, with a soft, "velvet" finish, which some prefer to velvet itself, but they show 7 a tine and wide range of coloring, which leaves nothing to be desired. Of course, the grays,the brow ns, the navy blues and the cream whites predom inate, but there are "invisible" greens and slate grays and wine colors in the choicest shades, so that almost any fall or winter cos tumes may be matched in felt as closely as in velvet. The trimmings should be governed largely by the costume; but it is certain no ornaments will be used, no tinseled braids, or beaded braids, or trumpery dogs' heads, arrows or bugles. The edge of the brim will be bound with velvet lacings of short curled ostrich, and bright peacock feathers will be used, aud outside trimming of silk and velvet and feathers, or feathers and the dark, thick, mateless ribbons, which are found so effec tive in arrangement, and are already employ ed in the medium widths as bows for fall cos tumes. As yet it is quite impossible to tell which shape will have the honor of that marked preference, which usually falls to the lot of some one, often the ugliest and ledst seem ingly attractive of those offered for choice. But it is safe to assume that they will retain their picturesque character. That the favor ite "Rembrant" and "Reubens" will be found, if not in precisely the same styles, yet pre senting many of their characteristics, is prob able. The claims, however, of these will be dis puted by the "Raphael," a more recent and very becoming shape, with the rolling brim and the oval crown of the Panama and the "Cecilia" with low, oval crown and straight brim. A few of these designs have already appeared in full shades of cream aud ashes of roses felt, the brim faced with a band of small, curled feathers, the crown surrounded with folds of matalasse silk in cardinal scar let or two shades of brow r n, and a broad pheasant's wing set up at the back Half a dozen of these, prepared for ladies en route from watering places, were sold as soon as they appeared. There is less demand for ostrich plumes than last year, and more for heavy feathers, birds' wings of brilliant plumage, the breasts of birds, lophomore feathers, and bands and plumes of cocks' feathers, dyed of various hues. Feathers will be used altogether, to the exclusion of flowers on felt, but flowers will perhaps be somewhat employed later in the season, for velvet, especially velvet bon nets. Young ladies have revived the long veils of Donna Maria gauze, in gray, very blue and brown, which is twisted around the crown, and a long end left to cover the face, or pro tect the neck, as the case may be. The Baby*» Weight. Dr. Groussin, of Bellevue, has contrived a machine which he calls a berceau-balance or penebebe , by means of which the anxious young mother may assure herself from day to day, or even from hour to hour, that the baby is going on satisfactorily as regards increase of weight. It consists of an ordin- ary cradle, to suit the taste, fitted w 7 itli a bal- ance underneath w'hich will tell the exact weight of the cradle and its contents without any need of disturbing the child. It is said that after two complete days of life a child weighs four ounces less than at birth. YVhen a week old it w T ill be of the same weight as at birth. From seven days to five months the average increase should be three-quarters of an ounce daily. At five months the weight should be double that at birth. At sixteen months the w r eiglit should be double that at five months. Of course, infauts vary from time to time, and each individual has a rule of its own; the great point is that growth ought to be constant. - ^ h Cis- w --- medicinal Qualities of Asparagus. A medical correspondent of au English journal says that the advantages of asparagus are not sufficiently appreciated. They who suffer with rheumatism are cured in a few days by feeding on this delicious esculent ; and more chronic cases are much relieved, especially if the patient avoids all acids, whether in food or beverage. The Jerusalem artichoke has a similar effect in relieving rheumatism. It may be well to remark that most plants which grow naturally near the seacoast contain more or less iodine, and in all rheumatic complaints iodine has long been a favorite remedy. One who has been in the drug business told the writer some years ngo that many of the popular patent nostrums which some disinterested people— "for the good of their fellow-creatures"— sold at $2 a bottle, consisted simply of a few cents' worth of iodine in solution. Iodine is dangerous, however, in overdoses, affecting especially the eye. -- m -*4 44^4 ►* m ---- An object lesson for children : There are two persons on the lawn. It is pa and ma. They are playing croquet. She is ahead of him. See how she smiles. There, he has passed her. She does not smile now 7 . She only hammers the ground. How he keeps going through the arches. It is not her turn yet. But how hard she hits the ball. Did you hear some glass jingle ? It was the cel- lar window. There is her mallet, too. It is flying toward the man. See how he dodges it. It has landed over the fence. The wo- man has got through. She is going into the house. How furiously she twitches along. Now the man is left alone. He is playing croquet all by himself.