Helena, Montana, Thursday, June 29, 1876.
THE WEEKLY HERALD
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
'I KKMS FOR THE DAIlY HERALD.
vered by carrier
per month, |3
( »rje <
oj)V t hr*
*;>|i y one
< >n e v
FADI.1G, t'llAXGIXGS, llYIAG.
Ev«*rvtliintî beautiful, darling, must fade;
'1 lie rose and tin: lily, the pride of the lield,
And myrtle, which hides the rude marks of the spade,
Where loved ones are sleeping, will all have to yield
To Time's busy gleaner, who gathers the leaves,
And unopened buds in the forest and plain,
To carefully bind them in bundles and sheaves,
And cairy them oil to return not again.
Everything beautiful, darling, must change;
The woodland, the meadow und course of the stream ;
Those scenes now lamiliar ere long will seem strange
And only he thought oi as seen in a dream,
Of pii tu res of memory long hung away,
And laded by age. or dust, of the past;
Each moment of pleasure refuses to stav,
The voice oi the zephyr is lost in the blast.
Evi rything beautiful, darling, must die,
And that which increases will surely decrease;
The sturdy old oak as a dust-heap will lie.
The song and the singer will both have to cease;
Yet there is hope that each beautiful tiling—
Though not in this life—will have being once more;
The bea t, like the ivy, to loved ones will cling,
When fallen, an 1 creep to Eternity's shore.
Everything beautiful, darling, must fade—
Must « hange and must die, be it never so grand ;
And nothing cndurcth that ever was made,
For Time lias tin* day in his own cunning hand;
The spirit immortal he humhleth not,
lie builds, though, and crumbles its dwelling of clay ;
When everything earthly and Time is forgot.
The spi*it will laugh at the thought of decay.
I« DAY AXI» TO-MOKROW.
Don't tell me of to-morrow !
(iive me the man who'll say,
That when « good flood's to be done,
Let's do the deed to-day.
We may all command the present,
It we act and never wait;
Hut repentance is the phantom
of the past, that comes too late!
Don't tell me of to-morrow!
There is much to do to-day
That can never be accomplished.
If we throw the hours away.
Every moment has its duty—
Who the future can foretell ;
Then why put off till to-morrow
What to-day can do as well ?
--— H J tT" M- f
Trip lightly over trouble,
Trip lightly over wrong;
We only make grief double
By dwelling on it long.
Why clasp woe's hand so tightly
Why sigh o'er blossoms dead ?
Why cling to forms unsightly ?
Why not seek joys instead?
Trip lightly over sorrow,
Though this day may be dark.
The sun may shine to-morrow,
And gailv sing the lark;
Fair hope lias not departed,
Though roses may have fled:
Then never be down-hearted;
Dut look tor joy instead.
Tin* Women'* Gift.
The ltulies of New York State have pre
sented to the Women's Ptivillion at the Cen
tennial Exhibition a beautiful banner of
richly embroidered blue silk, which measures
twelve by eighteen feet. It is inscribed with
these words worked in letters of gold :
"From the daughtersof New York to their
sisters of the Union. 1770—1870. The Lord
God be with us as He was with our fathers.' 1
The following ode was written by William
Cullen Bryant to accompany the banner :
This flag by gentle fingers wrought,
That with the breath of Summer plays,
May its fair drapery only float
O'er li ppy crowds ou festal days
And far, 0 far may he the hour
That < alls the children of the land,
Amid the battle's iron shower,
To bear it with a fearless hand.
1 et, when the foes of freedom fling
The bolts of war with deadly aim.
A million gallant hearts shall spring
To shield its sacred folds from shame.
s is, so far the gem of the Centennial
TI»o Wealth of Our K*re»ldent«i.
Washington left an estate valued at over
$80,000; John Quincy Adams died moder
erately well off, leaving about $75,000; Jef
ferson died so poor that if Congress had not
purchased his library at $20,000 he would
have been a pauper; Madison was frugal,
and left about $150,000; Monroe died so poor
that he was buried at the expense of his rela
tives; John Quincy Adams left about $55,
000 ; Jackson died worth about $80,000; Van
Buren left some $400,000. It is said that he
bid not draw his salary while in office, hut at
the expiration of his term of service drew the
wlmle $100,000 ; Polk left an estate valued at
$150,000; Taylor had saved something from
tbe arir *y* and died worth
JI.)0,000 ; 1 y 1er married a lady of wealth ;
fill more was always «frugal, and added to his
savings by marrying a lady of wealth, and
was worth about $200,000; Pierce's estate
îï? v ?. ue<1 at $50,000 ; Buchanan hft $200,
^'(w! nC0 /l?. ab0U i * 75 >°°°. and Johnson,
150,000 .—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
All About that Episode in the Domestic
Affairs of Mr. and Mrs. McDuflfy—How
Happiness was Found to Lie
Between two Extremes.
Mr. and Mrs. McDuffy, of this city, have
long been noted by their neighbors and friends
as the happiest, most affectionate couple that
ever lived together. They are always seen to
gether at the theatre, at concerts, at the Ti
voli after the concerts—and in fact, whatever
John likes she likes, and vice versa. The
only difference between them is a constitu
tional one. John is lean, very lean; so lean
that the most skillful marksman would as
soon think of taking a willow wand for a
target at 300 yards as him. He works hard
and late, drinks sour mash at irregular inter
vals, chews tobacco without ceasing, goes
around very freely with the hoys, and seldom
thinks about eating. He is never seen to
paste a dab of mustard upon a chunk of
brown bread before drinking bis beer, as
other fellows do. No ; he drinks first one
glass, and then another, and then meets an
other man and takes some brandy on top of
it. Thus Mr. McDuffy, by a course of treat
ment, had been grow ing leaner and leaner,
until " his dimensions to any thick sight
were becoming invisible."
Mrs. McDuffy is fat, very fat ; so fat that
her most expensive garments generally be
come useless to her long before they are worn
out. It was once remarked that she bail to
slide through tbe door of the Tivoli sideways,
but this was a pure exaggeration. Unlike
her dear John, she is very regular at meals,
takes life easy, believes every word that Mr.
McDuffy tells her about his lateness in getting
home, has no darling suspicions about bis
lady acquaintances. She drinks beer plenti
fully, and makes no secret to any one that
she is particularly fond of it. And so she has
been growing fatter and fatter, until she bad
become shy of being weighed before people.
These observations refer tq tbe McDuffies
as they appeared several months since.
Some time agt a friend of the family called
upon Mrs. McDuffy. She said, "My dear,
you are really growing too stout for any
thing. Excuse my saying so."
"I declares," said Mrs. McDuffy, "lam
actually ashamed of it, but what can I do ?"
" Do said her friend ; " why, do as I did.
Look now I've come down in six weeks. I
weighed 179, and now-"
"O for heaven's sake, tell me," said Mrs.
McD. "I'd be tickled almost to death to get
down a little."
" Well, then, adopt the Banting system.
Avoid eating all saccharine substances, don't
eat potatoes, sugar, butter, vegetables, pud
ding—''here the good creature expounded the
doctrine of the philanthropic Mr. Banting.
"I shall commence right away," said Sirs.
McDuffy. "God bless you my dear."
It happened that on tbe self-same day on
which tbe above conversation was held at
home, Mr. McDuffy met a medical acquain
tance of his at the Sherman House—or as be
would have said to Mrs. D., "down town."
In fact, they were having a quiet tipple to
gether at the bar.
"My boy," said the Docter, "you are not
looking well; you are getting thin."
*• I am always thin," said John ; " but it's a
fact, I'm not feeling very bright. Truth is,
I haven't any appetite."
" You take too much of this John," said
the Doctor, gravely, as they touched glasses ;
"you must give it up."
" Must I ?" says John ; " then here's to us
for the last time."
And John proceeded to whistle his favorite
Scotch air, " Neil Gow'sfarewell to whisky."
" Yes," continued his medical adviser,
looking into his eye and poking his forefinger
into the hollow space beneath the orb, " sour
mash is a bad thing for you. Y'our nerves
are prostrated ; you'll soon be throwing up
your food. You have inflammation and con
gestion of tbe gastric-"
" Oh, for God's sake don't scare me," said
John. ** I'm not so far gone as all that purely.
I have a sort of giddiness now and then, but
—by J ove, old fellow, 1 guess you're right.
I may be carrying this a little too far.
What's to be done?"
The medical man wihpped out a little bit of
paper from bis vest pocket, screwed a neat
little pencil out of its gold case, dabbed it on
bis tongue, and scribbled off some hierogly
"There," said he, "go and take that, and
that'll carry you over your present difficulty.
But, my boy, you must try and get fat."
John smiled sadly, and pulled down his
" And how in thunder am /to get fat, I
should like to know ?"
The Doctor laid his hand on John'9 shoulder,
and, with a look which seemed to say, " This
is going to settle the fate of the country,"
pronounced the word—
"Koumiss!" echoed the lank man.
" What the devil is that?" John was look
ing bewildered and incredulous.
"Don't sneer now; but its only—a kind of
milk-digested milk-effervescent, you know-an
exhilarant —assimilates with the blood. Live
on it, my boy ; live on it for three months,
and you'll weigh more'n your wife. Good
That night Mr. McDuffy stubbed his toes
two or three times in ascending the stairs to
his room. but it was for the last time.
" John," said his comfortable Dartner,
just waking up while Mr. McD. was occupi
ed in a long and silent struggle with the boot
on his left foot, isn't it awful late, dear?"
"Why no, not much," said he, contriving
to turn the gas down low, so that the clock
could not give an object lesson; "'bout's
same's us't s'pose."
" O my dear, what kept you out so late ?"
"P'liik'l meeting House David; com
paign's booming, now, tell you."
"Champagne, I should think, she said,
shaking herself wide awake. "John, dear,
please turn up the gas ; I've got something to
tell you. What are you doing?"
"By and by." Mr. McDuffy silently held
a chunk of ice to his head for ten minutes,
and then turning up the light cautiously, sat
down on the edge of the bed. He was afraid
of being misinterpreted, so he became ex
ceedingly deliberate in bis speech.
"Saw Dr. Elab to-night, and had a long
talk with him. Sent his regards. He says I
am working too hard and must nave rest."
"Poor boy ! That's what I've been forever
telling you, dear. Now, suppose we take a
trip on the lake when tbe warm weather
comes. It's just tbe thing you need.
"O, a trip on the lake is all very well ; but
I tell you I've got hold of something tbat'll
fix me all (hie) right without that. Dr. Elab
told me about it."
"What is it?" said Mrs. McDuffy.
"Kou (hie) koumiss."
"Kookoomis," said she, wonderingly ;
"I didn't say kookoomis," said Mr. Mc
Duffy, rather irritated ; "I said kou (hie)
"Well, and what is kookoomis, then, I
want to know ?"
"O nothing particular, perhaps—only some
preparation—fizzes like seidhtz powder—
mare's milk. You know tbe old Bashkirs out
in Tartary—they don't die of consumption or
anything. They keep drinking it—two hun
dred years ago and more. It's like this—a
gallon or so a day is nothing to them. Fanny
that nobody knew about it before. Think of
it— out in the steppes there—"
"Is there anybody out on the front steps?
Did anybody see you home ?"
"I mean the steppes of Tartary, what are
you thinking about ?" said Mr. McDuffy in a
"Well, well, dear, come to bed, your brain's
overworked," said the innocent creature, with
some anxiety, and just the least little bit of
"Very well," said John, in a lolty tone,
"then you have no interest in me getting
strong and healthy and fat."
"Don't I," said Mrs. McDuffy : "and that
reminds me that I have something to tell
"Ah, you have, have, have you ?"
"Y'es. Do you know, dear, that 1 have
commenced the Bantam system? Yes. I
shan't drink any more beer, and I shan't eat
any potatoes or cabbages, nor drink milk,
nor butter my bread, nor take sugar in ttiV
tea, and I don't know all w hat. But I am
going to stick to it. I'm determined to grow
"All right," quoth John, "and I'm de
termined to grow fat if I can, so I'll go in
for kou (hie) koumiss, and you can go in for
Bantam, i'ou save money on Bantam and
I'll spend it on koumiss."
"I've just read the book Mrs. Pease lent me,"
said Mrs. John, "and all I have to do is avoid
eating any sacrilegious substances. I'll be so
glad it I'm not fleshy."
This bad been the nearest approach to an
unpleasantness between tbe couple that bad
ever occurred since the day they were mai
ded, and bow T ever trivial it might seem to the
ordinary wife-beater, it actually worried the
good soul next day to think that she had
suspected John of having drank a little too
However, she proceeded systematically to
make herself a practical illustration of the
Banting system, and went on living on "beef
straight," as John jocosely called it, and but
terless bread, and milkless tea—in other
words, half-starving, and denying herseh
every luxury—until tbe result began to be I
quite perceptible to all her acquaintances.
As for McDuffy, he gave up all his down- !
town associates, came home at regular hours,
read books, and drank quart upon quart ot
koumiss. Y'ou would have thought their
domestic happiness was now increased ten
It was not.
Mr. McDuffy was certainly grow ing plump
and she was as certainly growing slender.
But there came a change somehow over the
home. John lost much of his old sprightliness
activity, and ceased to have any disposition
to entertain his wife. He fell into the habit
of going to sleep on the sofa after supper,
and when friends called to spend the evening
he would quietly steal away to his room and
leave his wife to entertain them. He never
lost his temper, he merely became prosaic,
apathetic, and "poky."
Mrs. McDuffy's native good nature did not
thrive on Banting. T n a month or so she be
gan to pine, and, what was worse, to whine.
Things went "contrary" with her, and the
most good-natured remark that John could
make was immediately set down as "sarcasm."
There was no more going out in the evening
together. John would take his pipe after
supper and walk around the block aimlessly
until it was bed-time, and Mrs. McDuffy
would put on her things and whisk off to a
She had joined a new church, being incited
thereto chiefly by the reasoning of the new
tenant next door, who told her that the new
pastor was a perfect gentleman, and was
building up a splendid society. The new
pastor made pastoral calls, and he and John
did not get along well at all. John said he
was a duffer, and he couldn't be bothered
with him. This drew from Mrs. McDuffy
occasional satirical allusions to his lack of
sympathy with true refinement, and his nat
ural aversion to society. "Of course tbe peo
ple he would meet at the sociable were not
of the stamp he had been in tbe habit of as
sociating with down town," and so on.
"Spats" were now of frequent occurrence
in tbe family. No matter wbat was the
subject—the planting of a geranium in the
back yard, tbe hanging of a picture in tbe
parlor, the shifting of a bureau from one
corner to another—it was sure to engender a
sharp dispute and end in a mutual buff.
Things were coming to a sorry pass, and
poor John saw with a dull kind of pain that
they were wandering away from each other.
"The little rift within the lute" was slowly
widening and their lives were by impercepti
ble but sure degrees becoming divided.
The other day Mr. McDuffy, before going
borne, encountered an old acquaintance
"down town," and by very little pursuasion
he was induced to stop in and drink just one
glass of beer. There was a weighing ma
chine in the place, and John out of curiosity
went and weighed himself. He found he
had gained precisely fifteen pounds since he
commenced the new regime.
At supper he happened to mention this
important fact to bis wife. She put on a
cheerful smile, which made her look more
like her own self than John bad seen her
look for months.
"John," she said, "I have something to
tell you. Do you know I was down at the
sewing machine place this afternoon, and I
got weighed. What do you think I have lost
since I commenced the Bantam system ?"
"Lost your temper a good deal my dear,"
said John, supping bis tea thoughtfully.
"You know what I mean," she retorted,
repressing a rising inclination to get up from
tbe table : bow much do ) T ou think I weigh
now? Now, guess?"
" You weighed 172 pounds ; lei's see—per
"I just weigh 145, and no more. Ain't
you glad ?"
"Why, that's exactly my weight," said
Mr. McDuffy, setting down his cup and
walking round to the other end of the table ;
"Well, kiss me first," she said, with a
beaming smile. "Y'ou haven't kissed me
for a whole mouth and more. " Oh, John !"
"Isin't it funny?" she said after wiping
her eyes, " that we should have met just here
—at 145. Y 7 ou have been coming up, and I
have been coming down, and here we are
at 145 both together.
"Jenny," said John, with emotion, "let
us never part again."
"Never, John, never. We'll both stay at
145, and never get away from it any more."
They went and sat down together on tbe
front doorstep, and John lit a cigar. It was
a beautiful evening.
"Have you taken your koumiss, to-day.
dear?" she said, looking rather tenderly up
in bis face.
"Counfound koumiss," said he, " I have
had plenty of it. Dr. Elab said 1 was to live
on it for three months, and the time's up.
"O dear, 1 am so sick and tired of dry
toast, and tea without milk, and steak
straight, and bits of fish. Y'ou won't be
angry, dear, if I tell you something that's on
my mind ?" she said, stroking John's hand
in a conciliatory way.
"No, darling, out with it."
She answered in a low tone that could hardly
be heard above the whisper of the leaves, " I
am so thirsty, and I would like—just—one
glass of beer."
Mr. McDuffy laid down his cigar and van
ished into tbe house. Ten minutes later tbe
solitary watchman who passes bis meditative
hours in that peaceful neighborhood, per
ceived in the gathering gloom of tbe even
ing, a cheery, happy-looking man coming
along the sidewalk, whistling the "Beautiful
Blue Danube," and carrying in his right band
a large white jug, over the rim of which
chunks of white foam were dropping down
and sparkling in the gaslight.
So that evening there was joy in tbe house
N. B.—This is not a temperance story.
_ ^ — ,
THE COLORADO Dl'El,
Tlie Story of the Tragic AIFoir.
[Special Dispatch to the Philadelphia Times j
Denver, Col., June 9.—Last evening in
teliigeuce reached this city that a fatal en
counter had taken place between two well
known cattle raisers, at Hiver Bend station,
on the Kansas Pacific Railroad, fifty-six
miles east of this place. The particulars of
the affair are ascertained to be as follows : It
seems that about noon yesterday some diffi
culty occurred between a man named O.
Davis, late station agent at River Bend, and
one of his employees. Alfred D. Jessup, Jr,,
was standing by and espoused the cause of
the subordinate to the great irritation of
Davis. High words soon followed, and
blows, if not worse, seemed imminent. But
quarrels in the section in which the affair
took place are frequent, especially among
herders, and the few people around took no
special notice of the disturbance. Presently
Davis and Jessup were observed going out
on tbe prairie together, but neither at that
time displayed any noticeable anger or excite
ment. In a short time, however, shots were
beard, and then the men about the station
realized tbe true state of affairs. The two
men had gone about five hundred yards from
the railway, cooly measured off a distance of
fifty paces and were blazing away at each
other. Jessup was showing great excite
ment, and was jumping widly about among
the cactus plants. He fired three shots from
his revolver altogether at his antagonist, none
of which too effect. Davis, on the contrary,
was wonderfully cool and collected. Standing
perfectly still, he took steady aim with his
Winchester rifle, and fired two shots, the
second taking effect in Jessup'9 right side
piercing tbe heart, just as the excited specta
tors reached the scene of the tragedy. Jessup
lived only a few minutes. His slayer con
tinued to display the most remarkable cool
ness, helping to carry tbe body to the station.
Upon being questioned in regard to the tragic
affair, Davis stated that Jessup had not only
taken up tbe quarrel of an employee, making
it his own, but followed it up with a chal
lenge to figbt, each to choose his own weapon.
Davis accepted and selected a Winchester
rifle, and Jessup chose his Colt's navy revol
ver. Tbe contest was an unequal one, not
only as to weapons but as to men, Davis'
being a crack shot and Jessup a mere novice
with the pistol. Many do not believe Davis
story that his victim was tbe challenging
party, as Jessup was never known to have
been engaged in any difficulty of a serious
nature before, and it is put down to bis credit
that he lost his life through his earnest de-
sire to see fair play and because he believed
a man was being unjustly assailed. Soon
after dark Davis mounted a horse and disap-
peared. As yet no attempt has been made
to arrest him. Jessup's body was brought
here to-day. It will be embalmed and sent
- i <4 «<£>> ►» ---
Acted Like a Man.
Washington, June 17.—As soon as New
York'« vote on the second ballot was re-
ported, Blaine sat down and wrote his con-
gratulatory dispatch to Hayes, and it was on
the wires to Columbus before the footings of
tbe ballots were received in Washington.
Immediately after the formal announcement.
Blaine rode out with his oldest son and was
received with loud cheers wherever crowds
were assembled on tbe streets. He received
dispatches throughout the day in his library
in company with some dozen friends, whom
be continually assured that Hayes would ulti-
mately be nominated. He was fully im-
pressed with the probability of a successful
combination against him, and except during
the twenty minutes following the sixth ballot,
did not expect the nomination. He was al-
together the coolest and least excited of tbe
company. During the evening bis residence
was crowded with callers, whom he received
with cheerfulness, exhibiting no trace what-
ever of disappointment, and discussing the
events of the day. He says the immediate
cause of the failure of his friends to secure
his nomination, was the holding back of tbe
votes for him from Pennsylvania after tbe
third ballot. This, Blaine attributes to ficti-
tious strength temporarily lent to Hartranft
from time to time by the Conkling forces,
which made it possible for the minority of
the Pennsylvania delegation to urge that their
candidate could not properly be dropped while
he was still apparently gaining votes.
A BALLOON IX FLAMES.
It Take» Tire Tww Thousand Feet in Air.
[From the New Y'ork Time?.]
Honda, United States of Colombia. >
South America, Tuesday, May 9, ISTti. j
We have just witnessed a terrible scene—
a balloon ascension, with tragical results.
The grand "Aerial ascension—Jimnastico"
was advertised to take place at 7 o'clock on
the morning of the 8th of May. Cards of
invitation were sent to all the leading citizens,
and in this little town, of few diversions, a
g;eat excitement was created. Sunda} r after
noon an oven was built in the center of the
plaza for the purpose of heating the air by
which the balloon was to ascend, and all the
preparations were watched by the people
with a great deal of curiosity. There were
perhaps 2,000 persons on the plaza. The bal
loon, a very large one, was inflated rapidly
and successfully, and soon the teronaut ap
peared, brilliant in scarlet, and gold and sil
ver spangles, carrying in bis band tbe Colom
bian flag. The ropes were loosened, and the
balloon shot up like an arrow, and the shouts
of the enthusiastic multitude, the blowing of
boms, and the beating of drums, the æranaut
meanwhile turning on the trapeze and per
forming various gymnastic feats. It was a
beautiful ascension. In less than a minute
lie must have been at a height of 2,000 feet,
when the balloon apparently became station
ary. He then threw out tbe flag. We could
scarcely distinguish whether it was the flag
or himself; but tbe next second a smoke was
seen issuing from the side of the balloon, and
tbe unfortunate aeronaut bad lowered a rope
and was climbing to tbe end below. "Esta
quemando—it is burning," some one shouted,
and tbe people suddenly became as madmen,
running and screaming, weeping, and tearing
their hair. The gentleman standing next to
me tried to quiet them by shouting, "Itis not
burning, it is false, brute—animal ! it is only
the gas escaping ;" but soon the flames burst
from the top, and peices of tbe cloth began
to float downward, tbe balloon descending
slowly at first, then rapidly, until all hope
was over, unless he touched, the top of the
mountain, which is about one thousand feet
above the town. The spectators rushed in
the direction in which the balloon was sup
posed to be coming. In five minutes the
plaza was entirely deserted, with the single
exception of one poor lunatic, who began
marching round and round the oven that had
furnished the fatal spark, chanting a requiem
mass, at intervale kneeling, and crossing him
self all the time. It was pitiful to see
In about an hour the crowd came slowly
back with the poor aeronaut, still breathing,
but insensible, with a broken leg and inter
nal injuries. He was seen by a man in a
field to pass directly over the cross of the
chapel in the cemetery, almost within reach
of it, across the valley of the Quebranda
Seca, finally touching the ground half way
up the mountain on the opposite side, per
haps a mile and a half from the point of
starting. He must have retained his senses
to the very last. As be came to the ground
he cried "Por Dios," and struck on his feet,
still clinging to the rope. The ignorant man
who saw him, having heard nothing of the
balloon ascesion, thought be had come di
rectly from Leaven, and was frightened and
ran away as fast as possible, but meeting
those in*search of him turned and conducted
them to the spot. The unfortunate man lived
but a few hours, and was buried at 5 p. m.
tbe same day.
They have planted a Centenaial tree in
Augusta, Georgia. A box of soil from Bun
ker Hill, with hatchets buried in it, was plac
ed around tbe roots.
A woman is living serenely under the
same roof with two husbands, near Geneva,
xml | txt