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HI rrj \ Urn y mm % mm WÂ » m Sin ll i mm I m m uML « s aass^ PSP® fis Sc Volume io. Helena, Montana, Thursday, May 18, 1876. No. 26 THE WEEKLY HERALD FT I5USHEI) EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. FISK BROS., - - Publishers. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. TERMS FoR THE DAIi.Y HERALD. ( SuLs.-rilicrs 'd'-livcrt-d by currier) per month, $3 00 BY MAIL. « lie ropy ol>- r.viriîii. .. ( 'ne ropy Tiiiiioiitii Oiic ropy nix lDOIlll'H. . One rojjy Oiir yr-'ir... . ..... 3 00 ..... 6 00 ...... V2 00 ...... 22 00 TERMS FoR THE WEEKLY HERALD. ........$0 00 3 50 i fcc swcii'i ii Liier of i ibi: ri:» io». ; wiii'i rrrd in my ilai liny's <*;ir, '•Swcrl. do you love ill-- yet " S' 1( . !>|ns!i«'d, then came in accents clear r l'i K . mi. t reply, 4 you be! !" "Oit. I could die for you." I cried, My eiianuuiy winsome e!t !" She lifted up tier eyes and siyheii, "I k.iow how 'tis myself." ••My dar —," "oh. hush for yoodness sake," She cried, "or pa will hear. And s it T* 1 1 a row and fuss he'll make You'd walk off on your ear." He waited breathless till a creak Was heard tip overhead, "There, now." said she. "'twill do to speak; He's in his little bed." She nestled closely at my side, With most romidiny manner, Said I. "I want you tor my bride;" Said she, "That's what ails Hannen" "Then let the blessed day be soon," I breathed with an anxious «iyh ; Said she, "we ll say the fourth of June, How will that do for hiyh 7" 1 clasped her to my throbbing breast; My heart o'ertlowed with joy, She sighed, her cheek to mine close prest, "Yon are a brii k, my boy." I told her she was sweet and fair As angels in the sky ; She said, "don't flatter, sir; take care! That all is in your eye." I said she was the queen of girls. The rarest girl e'er born ; She laughed and shook her sunny curls, "I am, yes, in a horn." I whispered, bending down my head, "Your iips are like a cherry ;" She took my meaning—laughed and said, "Well, I'm your huckleberry." The clock struck twelve while thus we sat, Breathing the old, old story; '•No, no," she said, "don't get your hat, We are ail hunkydory." 'Twas thus I wooed and won my Grace With the charms that so adorn her, Ami she says tlie wedding must take place In the "church around the corner." The U lfe. It needs no guilt to break a husband's heart. The abseuce of couteut, the mutter ing« of spleen, the uutidy dress and cheerless home, the forbidding scowl and deserted hearth, these, and other nameless neglects, without crime among them, have harrowed to the quick—the heart's core of mauv a man, and planted there, beyond the reach of cure, the germ of dark despair. O, may woman, before the sight arrives, dwell on the recollection of lier youth, and cherishing the dear idea of that tuneful time awaken and keep alive the promise she so kindly gave. And though she may be the injured, not the injuring one—ihe forgotten, and not the for geiting wife—a happy allusion to the hour of peacetul love—a kindly welcome to a com fortable home—a smile of love to banish hos tile words—a kiss of peace to pardon all the past, and the hardest heart that was ever locked M ithin the breast of seltish man will soften to her charms, and bid her live, as she bad hoped, her years of matchless bliss, loved, loving and content—the source of comfort and the spring of joy.— Chambers Journal. .11 fschic vous Cliurily. Some years ago I picked up several child- ren in Chicago, and thought 1 would clothe them and iced them; and 1 took special in- terest in those bovs to see wliat I could make of them. 1 don't think it was thirty days before the clothes lmd all gone to whisky, and the fathers had drank it all up. One day I met one of the little boys, for whom 1 had bought a pair of boots only the day be fore. There was a snow storm coming up, and he was barefooted. "Mike," says I, "liow'o this? Where are your shoes?" " Father and mother took them away," said lie. There is a good deal that we think is charity that is really doing a great deal of mischief: and the people must not think be- cause we don't give them money jo aid them in their poverty that we don't love them, for the money would go into their pockets to get whisky with. It is no sign that we are all hypocrites and insincere in our love that we dont give money. I believe if the prodigal son could have got all the money he wanted in that foreign country he would never have come home, and it was a good thing for him that he did get hard up and had to live on the husks that the swine ate. And it is a good thing that people should suffer. If they get a good living w ithout work, they will never work. We can never make anything of them. Cod has decreed that man shall earn his bread by the sweat of bis brow, and not live ( n other people. — Moody. --- «4 ►» ---- "Do they ring two bells for school ?"ask- ed a gentleman of his 10-year old daughter, who attends "a select institution for young ladies." "No, pa," she replied, " they ring one bell twice." i vear iikii.i I:- ........... 2 w ; ! : iront! AN AUTHENTIC GHOST STOEY. The scenes we are about to describe occur red a few days ago to a respectable family, of the name of Culverton, in a certain mid land country. The Culvertons bad lived in the old family mansion, and enjoyed the revenues of the family estate for many years, without the slightest doubt that they had a legal right to it, when suddenly there started up, from goodness knows where, an individual who laid claim on property, and seemed likely to prove his claim to all but the Culvertons themselves. It w as certain Jabez Hardy was the nearest relative, and certain that even Mrs. Culverton was only a grand-niece of Iiiram Hardy, de ceased; but ihe Culvertons had lived with the old man for years, and he promised, time ami again, to leave them everything. He had even declared that his w ill w as made in their favor, and that such a document was actually in existence, Mr. Culverton could not doubt; but diligent search bad been made in vain, and Jabez Hardy, whom the old man never saw, w as to take the place of people be loved fondly, and who bad been bis comfort in bis last hours. "it was a shame!" said every one. "A cruel, wicked thing!" sobbed Mrs. Cul ver ton. And Mr. Culverton, who had never expec ted a reverse, was quite crushed as the pend ing lawsuit progressed. A thousand times a day he said, "How providential it would be if Uncle Hiram's will would turn up at this moment." And Mrs. Culverton always answered, "I wonder he can rest, poor man, with such in justice going on." But no matter what they said, or how they managed, no will was found, and Jabez rub bed his bands in triumph. It was strange that while matters were in this condition, one so deeply interested in the subject as Mrs. Culverton necessarily was, should dream of anything else; but dream she did, night after night, of an entirely opposite subject. Inevitably, for a week at least, she had no sooner closed her eyes than she found her self in a servants' registry office, full of can didates of all ages and nations, and face to face,a with a girl of small stature with a white Scotch features, and singular blue eyes, who desired the situation of cook. At first she did not like the girl, but in every dream she found her aversion vanish. After a few moments' conversation, and in variably, it bad began to melt when the girl looked full at her and said, " I'd like to en gage with you ma'am." It was always the same office—always the same girl—always the same words were ut tered—until Mrs. Culverton began to think there must be something in the dream. "Though it can't come true," said she, "for while Johanna and Rachael remain here, I shall never want another cook or housemaid." Aud just as she said this there was a scream in the kitchen and Rachael ran in, frightened out of her senses, to tell how Johanna, lifting a large kettle, had fallen with it and scalded herself. Mrs. Culverton followed the housemaid in to the kitchen and found Johanna in a wretched condition. The doctor being sent for, she was put to bed and declared useless in ber domestic capacity for at least a month to come. A temporary substitute must be had; aud Mrs. Culverton, that very afternoon, went to the nearest town to find one at a registry office. strange to say, in the bustle slie had quite forgotten her dream, until she suddenly stood face to face with the very girl she had seen in it. A small young woman, with ve r y sin gular blue eyes, in a white face, and whose features betrayed Scottish origin. She bad risen—this girl—from a seat in the office, and stood before her twisting her apron-strings and courtesying. " I'd like to engage myself with you, ma'am," she said. The very words of the dream also. Mrs. Culverton started, and, in her confusion, could only say, " Why ?" The girl blushed. " 1 don't kuow," she said; " only it seems to me I'd like to live with you." It seemed a fated thing to Mrs. Culverton; but she put the usual questions and received the most satisfactory answers, except as to references. "But I can't employ you without a refer ence," said Mrs Culverton, still knowing that Fate had decreed that the girl should take a place in her kitchen. "If you can't, 1 must out with the truth," said the giri. There's my last mistress' name, ma'am. She'll tell you I'm honest and capable; but she turned me away for fright ening the family," " ilow ?" asked Mrs. Culverton. "Seeing ghosts!" replied the girl. "Every day I saw a little child in white playing about the bouse, and everybody said there was no such child there, though there had been once, and he was dead. Mistress said I preten ded to see it for the sake of impertinence and dis charged me; but I know by her trembling she thought I had seen a ghost. I went to a doc tor, aud he called it an optical delusion, and said it would pass away; and sure enough, I've never seen it since I left the house." It was a queer story; but Mrs. Culverton believed it, and before she left the office had hired Jessy to fill Johanna's place for the space of one month from that day. That evening she came and went to work with a will. Dinner time passed comfortably and tea time came. The Culvertons usually eat a muffin or a piece of cake at this meal, and cups were handed about in the sitting room. Jessy came in at the appointed hour with the tray, served every one, and then stood smi ling before Mrs. Culverton. "Please let me pass you, ma'am," she said. "The old gentleman hasn't been helped. Yes sir, in a minute." "The—old—gentleman?" cried Mrs. Cul verton. "Yes, ma'am—behind you in the corner, please." "There's no gentleman, young or old there," said the lady. "I can't imagine what you took for one. The girl made no answer, but turned quite white and left the room. Mrs. Culverton followed her. At first she extort no expla nation: but by and by the girl declared that she saw the old gentleman sittiug in an arm-chair in the corner, who beckoned to her, as she fancied, in a hurry for his tea. "What did lie look like ?" asked Mrs. Culverton. "He was thin and tall," said the girl. His hair was white and very long; and I noticed that one of bis knees looked stiff, and that be had a thick gold-beaded cane beside." "Uncle Hiram!" cried Mrs. Culverton. "Upon my word you have described my great-grand-uncle, who lias been dead for twenty years. Jessy began to cry. "I shall never keep a place," she said. "You'll turn me away now." But Mrs. Culverton only laughed. ''See as many ghosts as you please," she said, "so long as you don't bring them before my eyes;—and she went back to her tea with out saying a word to any of the family on the subject, although she was extremely mysti fied. Surely if the girl had never seen her Uncle Hiram—which was not likely, considering that he had been dead nearly her whole life time—she must have seen something in the ghost line; and if indeed, it were Uncle Hi ram's spirit, why should he not come to aid them in their trouble. Mrs. Culverton had always had a little superstition hidden in her soul, aud she soon began to believe this ver sion of the case completely. The next morning she went into the kitchen, and shutting the door, said to Jessy, "My good girl, 1 do not intend to dismiss you; so be frank with me. I do not believe that these forms you see are optical delusions. I feel sure they are actual spirits. What do you think ?" "I think what you do, ma'am," said the girl. "Our folks have always seen ghosts, and grandfather had the second sight for ten years before be died." "If you should see the old gentleman you told me of agaiu," said Mrs Culverton, "be sure and tell me." The girl promised to mention anyth.ng that might happen, to her mistress; and from that day an interchange of glances between them ami a subsequent conference in the kitchen was of regular occarreuce. The girl saw her apparition seated on the sofa in the parlor, seated at the dining-table walking in the garden, and so life-like was it that she found it impossible to refrain from passing plates and cups and saucers to it, to the infinite amazement of the people who saw only empty air in the same spot. By-and-by she inevitably spoke of her ghost as "the old gentleman," and was no more af fected by bis presence than that of a living being. If it were an optical delusion, it was the most singular one on record. But all this while—ghosi or no ghost—the figure never spoke, and never did anything to help the Culvertons in their delusion, and the law suit was nearly terminated without a shadow of a doubt in Jabez Hardy's favor. In three days all would be over; and the Culvertons, who had earned their property, if ever mortals did, by kindness and attention to their aged relative—whom they had truly loved—would probably be homeless. One morning Mrs. Culverton sat over her breakfast, after the others had left the room, thinking of this, when Jessy came in. "I've something to tell you ma'am," she said. "There's a change in the old gentle man-" "What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Cul verton. "I've seen him twice at the foot of my bed in the night," said the girl, "and though al ways before be has been kind and pleasant looking, now he frowns and looks angry. He beckons me to go somewhere, and I don't dare in the night time-." "You must," said Mrs. Culverton. "I know he'll come again; and I'll sit with you all night, and go where you go. It may be for great good to us all, Jessy." "I shan't be afraid, ma'am, if I have com pany," said Jessy, in the most matter-of-fact way, and carried out the breakfast things. All day they never spoke on the subject; but on returning, Jessy found ber mistress in her bed-room wrapped in a shawl. "I'm ready, you see," she said. And Jessj' merely loosened some buttons and books and and lay down dressed. Ten o'clock passed—eleven—twelve. Mrs Culverton began to doubt, when suddenly she saw Jessy's eyes dilate in a most peculiar manner; and in an instant more the girl said 4 "Why here he is, ma'am." "There's no one there," said Mrs. Culver ton. "Oh, yes, ma'am; I see him," said the girl. He's in a great excitement, ma'am he's taken out his watch to look at it, and the chain is made of such bright yellow hair I thought at first it was gold." "His wife's hair," cried Mrs. Culverton, "It was buried with him, You see dear old Uucle Hiram. Does he look at me?" "Yes ma'am," said the girl. "Uncle," said Mrs. Culverton, "do you know me after all these years?" "He nodded," said the girl. "Have you come to help us—dear, kind uncle?" said the lady. Uncle Hiram was described as nodding very kindly and beckoning. "He wants us to follow him," said the lady, and took up the light. The moment she opend the door Jessy's eyes saw the figure pass through it. Mrs. Culverton still saw nothing. Obedient to the girl's description of the ghost's movements, Mrs. Culverton descend ed the stairs, bearing a lamp, with her, and soon stood in the the library. There the ghost paused before a bookcase. "He wants me to open it," said Jessy. "Do so," said the lady. "He signs to take down the books," said the girl. And Mrs. Culverton's own hands went to work. Book after book was taken down— novels and romances, poems and plaj'S. A pile of volumes lay on the library carpet, and still the ghost pointed to the rest in suc cession, until all were down. "He looks troubled ma'am. He seems trying to think," said the girl. " Ob, ma'am, he's gone to the other case !" And so. to cut a long story short, the four great bookcases were emptied, without appa rent result. Suddenly Jessy screamed out. "He's in the air. He's risen, ma'am, to thetopof the case. He want'» metociimbup." " Get the steps, Jessy," said the Mistress. And Jessy obeyed. On the very top of one of the cases, cov ered by cobwebs, she found an old German book and brought it down. "This was there, she said. And as Mrs. Culverton took it in her hand, from between the leaves dropped a folded paper, fastened with red tape and sealed. The lady picked it up, and read on the out side these words: " The last will and testa ment of Hiram Hardy." For a little while she could only weep and tremble. Soon she found words, "Uncle," she said, " in the name of my husband and my dear children, I thank you from my soul. Does be hear me Jessy ?" "Y"es, he nods and smiles," said the girl. "Will you let me see you, Uncle?" said Mrs. Culverton. "He's gone," said the girl. "He has kissed his hand and gone." Nobody believed the story of his appear ance. Bnt the will had been discovered, without a doubt, and the Culvertons were no longer in danger of expulsion from their old home. There they lived and died, and Jessy remained until she married; and all her life received every kindness from the family who were indebted to her singular peculiarity for their comfort and happiness. Whether Uncle Hiram's spirit really came back to earth or not, Mrs. Culverton always asserted that it did, and quarreled with every one who ventured to doubt the assertion. To Count a Billion a Physical Impossi bility. To the Editor of the Commercial Advertiser. I Lave seen, of late, several articles upon the time it would take to count a billion. One writer, in stating that a billion is only a thou sand million, not a million of millions, con siders the task one that can be easily accom plished in a life-time. But I conceive no two generations of men, or rather a man during his life-time, to be followed up by his son after the decease of his father, taking up the number and continuing on, that could possi bly accomplish the task. This, to me, is the point which renders it impossible, viz.: To count a billion means to count from one con secutively up to a million, not to count a se series of hundreds or thousands. The first thousand consumes but a few minutes, but from a thousand on to ten thousand takes relatively much longer, and so on in constant ly repeating each amount as it slowly pro gresses up the scale, it gradually becomes a task beyond the physical endurance of any two or three persons in a life-time. Think of the slow process when one has reached "seven hundred and seventy-seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven," and goes on repeating these words over and over as he advances one numeral at a time! It is easily seen, when this feature is considered, that the task is really physically impossible. To count from one to ten a hundred million times is child's play to counting from one to a bil lion. GRADGRIND. Chinese Opium Bating a Measure of Economy [From the Boston Advertise!.] On a basis of 200,000,000 smokers this would give an annual per capita of two ounces avordupois. But wliy should this small per capita cause the Chinese to degen erate ? Because the moderate use of the drug is so widely diffused, and because the normal effect of opium smoking is to dimin ish the appetite aud to reduce the per capita consumption of food. Here is the secret of the degeneracy. Opium tempts the smoker to let his muscles waste for lack of sufficient food, and hence this rice eating people are losing ia physical forces. Alcahol, beer and wine have a tendency to increase the con sumption of food, but it would be impossible for the Chinese to employ these stimulants, since the empire is already too crowded in population to afford food at the present rates of confumption. It is probable, there fore, that the physiological fact which lies at the root of the Chinese appetite for opium is economy of food and has been for cen tuffes the strongest necessity of the Chinese peoples, and the use of opium tends to pro mote that economy. Previous to the big fire which occurred at Virginia City, last October, there was a cat in Judge Rising's family which had attached itself to one of his little girls. After the fire the Judge and his family went to California to spend the winter, returning about a week ago, when, while they were collected at their first meal, the cat, which had not been seen since the fire, quietly walked in and jumped into one of the little girls' laps, as if there had been no interruption of friendship. --- m «4 » — - The Buffalo Blaine Club now has over one thousand members. At their last meet ing they voted to send one hundred delegates to Cincinnati to work for Mr. Blaine's nomi nation, but the trouble was, three hundred volunteered to go. The Example ot Great Merchant*. [From the Baltimore Sun.] The decease of A. T. Stewart, the head of the great importing, jobbing and retail dry goods house of New York, naturally creates an impression in the commercial and business world in which he played so conspicuous a part. The magnitude of his business enter prises and the immensity of bis wealth ren dered bis mercantile career one of the most remarkable that ever occurred in any coun try. John Jacob Astor began his accumula tion of fortune as a merchant, but he relin quished that vocation for operations in real estate. Mr. Vanderbilt, yet living, acquired wealth in various marine enterprises, but the most of his foil tine was obtained from his subsequent connection w ith railways. Neither Girard, of Philadelphia, nor our own Mc Donough (who was'born in Baltimore, but labored in New Orleans,) nor Peabody had such a commercial fame as Stewart achieved before his decease. It is true Girard's name became well known after bis death, as did that of McDouogh, on account of their mag nificent charities, and Peabody's during life, attained a lustre which the greater wealth of Mr. Stewart can never rival, because intelli gently and systematically as well as liberally bestowed in the cause of humanity. Mr. Peabody also began life in mercantile pur suits, but became afterwards a banker. His accumulations did not equal those of Mr. Stewart, but be nevertheless achieved the proud distinction of being such a benevolent giver of great gifts while be lived as the world has rarely seen. The late John Hopkins of this city began his life in a counting-room, but after a commercial career of a quarter of a century relinquished business in that line, devoting himself to financial operations, the improvement of the commercial portion of the city, and the sustaining of its greatest railroad enterprise—finally, before bis de cease, maturing the plans and setting on foot those great benefices for a university and a free hospital with which his name is to be forever identified. Mr. Stewart, however, was a merchant from the beginning and con tinued a merchant to the end. For over fifty years he kept a store in New York, and died keeping a store or stores, leaving behind him, it is supposed, a fortune of fifty millions of dollars. Sleepless vigilance, energy, prudence and thrift, added to his vigorous native intel lect and his clear conception of the funda mental principles of mercantile economy, were the intellectual and moral capital which he put in with his small store of mone 3 % and which, with thought, study, method and steadfast attention to principle in his busi ness, led to such surprising results. He is said to have been the example of commercial probity in his dealings. If ever a man acted throughout life on the principle that honesty is the best policy, it was A. T. Stewart. It was a rule of his busi ness that all customers should be treated alike and treated fairly. He would not permit bis goods to be represented as other or better than they were ; he had but one price ; he bought for cash, making no debts, and sold for cash or on the shortest credit possible, and so kept bis capital at command. He personally su perintended the details of his affairs, and so was always informed of his exact condition— principles of business which are worthy of all honor and which are essential to commer cial character and success. The exact amount of his great, fortune may not be known, nor, however great, is it in itself a tiling to be ad mired or envied ; but the sterling business qualities and the inflexible integrity by which it was obtained deserve respect and emula tion. •-- ———mttt ►* 41»*- - A You21$; Lady 1 'uisoiK'd by » Green Eainp SluuEe. A case of indisposition most peculiarly marked has recently made considerable noise among the medical men in Berlin, which warns us all to be exceedingly careful in the use of materials painted green. For some time past a young lady passed her evenings with working at embroidery, when, in order to modify the light cast by the lamp, she placed a green lamp shade over it. The very first evening she complained of a headache, and so on for the succeeding evenings. The hair of the young girl beginning to fall out, a physician was called, though he could render no assistance, as he could not detect the cause of the malady. Finally the mother observed to the patient that perhaps the green lamp shade may contain some injurious in gredients. It was chemically examined, when it was established that, the green lamp shade contained a not inconsiderable quantity of arsenic. The shade was removed, and the young girl has since enjoyed good health. Slow I asi XVe Räte. Travelers on railroads are often desirous of knowing the speed at which they arc moving, and as a general thing, are not aware that with the aid of a watch they may readily find out, even when the mile posts are not placed along the track. This may be done, says the Scientific Press, by simply counting the number of rails passed over in any one given minute. On the best railroads the hammer ing sound made by the wheels in passing from one rail to another is quite audible, and may be easily noted on whichever side of the car the observer may be sitting. All rails are either twenty four or thirty feet long— the length may be easily ascertained by pacing or measuring with a pocket rule at any station where the train stops. Then by counting the number of rails passed in thirty or sixty seconds, the speed of travel may be calculated by any passenger. When a train moves 14.67 feet a second, it is traveling at the rate of ten miles an hour, or a mile in six minutes. A young man at Nashville killed himself because he could not get another man's wife. It is terrible to love somebody and see her washing windows for another man.