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m 1 i, A ® HMI I J E*rS m fife % r «s SC Volume xiv. Helena, Montana, Thursday, April 29, 1880. No. 24 ito Sfôwfcï» PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNINO. FISK BROS., - - Publishers. R. E. FISK, - - - - Editor. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION, TERMS FOR THE DAILY HERALD. Subscribers (delivered by carrier) per month, fi OC BY MAIL. One copy one month............................S 2 00 One copy three months......................... 5 00 One copy six months........................... 9 00 One copy one year............................. 18 00 TERMS FOR THE WEEKLY HERALD. One year.............. $5 00 Six months......................................3 00 Three months................................... 1 M) THE TORNADO. CHARLES I)E KAY IN SCRIBNER FOR APRIL. Whose eye has marked his gendering ? On his throne He dwells apart in roofless caves of air, Born of the stagnant, blown of the glassy heat O'er the still mere Sargasso. When the world Has fallen voluptuous, and the aisles are grown So bold they cry, God sees not !—as a rare Sunflashing iceberg towers on high, and fleet As air ships rise, by upward currents whirled, Even so the bane of lustful islanders Wings him aloft. And scarce a pinion stirs. 'There gathering hues, he stoopetl. down again, Down from the vault. Locks of the gold-tipped cloud Fly o'er Lis head ; his eyes, Saint Elmo flames ; His mouth, a surf on a red coral reef. Embroidered in his cloak of dark blue stain With lightning jags. Upon his pathway crowd Dull Shudder, wan-faced Quaking, Ghastly dreams ; And after these, in order near their chief, start, Tremor, Faint-heart, Panic and Affray, Horror with blanching eyes, and limp Dismay. Unroll a gray-green carpet him before Swathed in thick foam ; thereon venturing hark Need never hope to live; that yeasty pile Bears no longer; to the mast-head plunged She writhes and groans, careens, and is no more. Now, prickt by fear, the man-devonrer shark, Hale-breasting gull and whale that dreams no guile Till the sharp steel quite to the life has lunged, Before his pitiless, onward hurling form Hurry toward land for shelter from the etorm. In vain. Tornado and his pursuivants, Whirlwind of giant bulk, and Waterspout— The gruesome, tortuous devil-fish of rain— O'ertake them on the shoals and leave them dead. Doomsday has come. Now men in speechless trance Glower unmoved upon the hideous rout, Or, shrieking, fly to holes, or yet complain One moment to that lordly face of dread Before he quits the mountain of his wave And strews for all impartially their grave. And as in court-yard corners on the wind Sweeps the loose straws, houses and stately trees Whirl in a vortex. His unswerving tread Winnows the isle bare as a thresher's floor. His eyes are fixed ; he looks not once behind, But at his back fall silence and the breeze. Scarce is he come, the lovely wraith is sped. Ashamed the lightning shuts its purple door. And heaven still knows the robes of gold and dun _ While placid Ruin gently greets the sun. A Patriotic Mother. At the time of the first call for volunteers to put down the rebellion, a matronly-looking lady, accompanied by her son, a fine young fellow of nineteen, entered a gun store on Broadway, New York, and purchased a full outfit for him. Selecting the best arms and other articles for a soldier's use that could be had in the store, she paid for them, remark ing as she did so, "This, my son, is all that I cau do for you. I have given you up to serve your country, and may God go with you. It is all a mother can do." The scene was affecting beyond discription and attracted considerable attention, and tearful eyes fol lowed that patriotic mother and her son as ihey left the place. The Wool Product. In Great Britian and Ireland there are 35, 000,000 sheep and lambs, producing 218,000, 000 pounds of wool. In the United States there are 36,000,000, producing 185,000,000 pounds of wool. A large portion of this lat ter wool is sold unwashed, and being princi pally from Merino sheep, is full of yolk and heavy shrinkage, while the greatest portion of English wool is washed. The small amount of unwashed is from coarse-wooled sheep and shrinkage is small, showing a much greater difference in the quantity of wool ready tor the cards. While we are ex porting to Great Britain large quantities of mutton we are importing thence large amounts of wool. * At latest accounts Colonel Samuel D. Mor- gan, of Nashville, was lying at the point of death. After he had passed his seventieth year Colonel Morgan founded, and carried to successful completion, Tennessee s greatest manufacturing establishment, and, up to a very recent period, there seemed to be no end to his vitality and his resources. In 1861 he was engaged in great commercial pursuits, embracing extensive Northern and Eastern connections. Before quitting the Union he paid all his debt 9 in gold, and, in fact, so successful was he that nearly everything he turned his hands to seemed to turn to gold. He wa6 to have been Mr. Bell's Secretary of the Treasury had that gentleman been elected President. --—— Canon Fakrab, the distinguished author and clergyman, is a man under forty-five years of age, of florid complexion and san guine temperament. He is compactly built and under the medium bight He has a irood voice, but reads like an untrained school-boy. As a preacher the canon is somewhat verbose, but full of fascinating imagery. OC THESE THREE. [The following e«eay»va@ originally read belore the Deep Creek Literary Society. Perhape from the fact that M re. Van Voaet had never before offered to the public anything in the line of essay writing, certain acquaintances of hlr'e have asserted that this produc tion was a plagiarism. By the advice of friends she requests a place for it in the columns of the Herald, that her critics, by comparison of notes with others, may have the beet possible aid in proving their theory ot authorship :J If I could find words to express my feelings at heart on this subject, I would either inter est or tire you in a few moments. I have selected for my subject "Friendship and Hope," considering them the two greatest blessings bestowed on mortals. You may say, "Why not love and hope ? love is greater than friendship but I answer, nay, and say with the poet ; "Friendship is the joy of reason, Dearer yet than that of love ; Love lasts but a transient season, Friendsnih forms the bliss above." Love is the most exacting and selfish pas sion of the human heart. Allow me to illus tiate the fact. Take for example, the hus band and wife. Now, what wives or hus bands in this house would allow their other halves to love another equally as well as they are loved, or another to love them ? I answer without fear of contradiction—not one. If you should find out that your partner for life did love another, "not wisely but to well," what would be the consequence ? A separa tion for life ! Sorrow to the grave ! This is love ! It is different with the holy sentiment of friendship. If you have a friend, you wish every one to love that friend as you do, and you do all you can to win friends for your friend, wherever you may go. Remember when we say friends we do not mean the causual acquaintances one meets any and everywhere, shaking hands and passing on out of sight and mind ; but the person who will defend your good name in time of need when you aie far away; the one who, when he hears you lightly or dis respectfully spoken of—when he hears things said of you he does not believe to be true, will demand proof or silence in a manner that cannot be trifled with. This is friendship. Love wants the undivided heart or none ; it wishes to be thought of first, tenderly caressed and adored ; it claims you for its slave. What does friendship wish ? A little corner way down in the heart, no matter how far down or email the spark if 'tis only true. We can love but one truly, but befriend a thousand. Lovers or sweethearts, when they hear the loved one spoken of in not-over-flattering terms, probably feel the waves of resentment swelling high within the breast, and they sometimes find an outlet, but this i9 not the rule. This is how be reasons: "Now, if I jump here and raise a muss, they will say 'he is dead in love.' I do not believe those things myself, but I cannot prove their falsenessb y giving them the lie. Probably I would get a black eye for my pains, and then I couldn't go to see her for a week. Nobody else will believe them. The fact is, girls will flirt. She may be flirting with me. It is time enough for me to fight her battles when she says 'yes'." Then he marches straight to the girl and tells her how mad it make9 him. Why, he got so mad he had to leave—if he had stayed any longer he'd have killed somebody. Not so with the friend. He steps forward, asks for proof, and if you cannot give it you are branded as a liar. He, unlike the lover, buries the case lest it should grieve bis friend. Should that friend learn what caused the black eye (if there should be one) what pleas ure she would find in doctoring and dressing and binding up the wound—a wound received for her. Why, for such a friend I would feel an adoration. Friendship is love's self, but it is very often abused. Some claim to possess what they term friendship for you, but in reality it is a shabby counterfeit. Friendship is the pearl of truth, The hidden fount of feeling, Neath cottage thatch or palace root, Life's highest charm revealing. Friendship is not a flimsy veil, To hide the loved one's failing, But compass needle true as steel • When past the rooks were sailing. Friendship ! truest, holiest, power, Richest blessing given, You scatter through the midnight hour, Holy dews from heaven. Friendship, oh, thou priceless gem. Could every heart attend thee, Then my sorrow had not been, For friendship would defend me. Friendship, he my guiding star, Friendship near me hover, Travel near and travel far. From shafts of slander cover. Friendship is a jewel bright That wealth can purchase never, It shines on rich and poor alike, The star of hope for ever. And what is hope ? 'tis a joy 10 come ; 'tis our truest friend in our darkest trouble ; it shines out, and men say, "The beacon of hope." It guides us on to the world to come, filling heart and brain with peace. It lulls our fears and trials to sleep, wreathing the heart with joy, and arching our sky wi£ the bow of promise. It is our ever present friend when the wants and discouragements of life are pressing sore, and the poor man cannot tell from whence his next meal may come. Hope springs up within his bosom, urging him on and on, promising a bright future and reward if he will only make the effort—one more effort ; and so we go on from day to day, still wishing, and hoping for something better. If you take away hope you would take from the poor, fallen, unfortunate sinner, the last ray of peace and solace ; but by hope he is stayed from the worst and final step in his downward path. She whispers, "Stop ! look back to the road you have left, at the sunshine and joy in the broad highway of truth and honor, and now look forward, down the dark, rough road to shame and folly. Return wanderer with me ! There is for giveness for you if you will hope and believe, Hope breaks to us the bread of life. If it was not for hope we would make one effort, and one failure, and cease from future efforts. When we lose confidence in a friend we do not judge the whole human race by that one, hut by hope we trust another and another until the true friend is found. When Death, the grim old monster who turns the forms of those we love most into a stony and poison ous piece of clay, hope grows green around the narrow home of mortality, pleading and pointing upward, and whispering of the meet ing to come in the "Sweet by and by" on the banks of eternity. It is hope that quiets the wild, firce throbs of the breaking heart. Our eyes are closed to the good and evil of the future, but our hope lives on the strength of the beautiful unknown. I believe hope is the first impulse of the human heart. And with its last faint throb hope will burst like a lily from the sod, and appear to our awakened vision as the friend we saw "through a glass darkly" while walking with her here. Were I to live a thousand years } There are things I could not forget, There are loves and fears, there are smiles and tears And hopes that would hold me yet. We love, but often our love is vain, Then hope comes up to cheer, And whispers tenderly, "Try again, Press on, for the victory's near." A sunny smile may wreath our lips While the heart is drowned in tears, And alone in sorrow we seem to sit, But hope has a balm for fears. Then who for wealth or applause or show This truest friend would give ? The others take wings and fly away— Hope smiles, and again we live. A sweet, sad liie, is a life of hope When our sorrow presses sore, She teaches the heart with the ill to cope, A ad her song is ''Grieve no more." Aye, hope has been to many the stay In the paths of troth and right, It has held them there who would go astray, Till the good buret forth to sight. Then, il 1 were to live a thousand years With all other joys forgot, I would keep for my fears through smiles and tears, Thi» changeling, that changes not. FLORENCE VAN VO A ST. William E. Chandler on the Outlook. [From an Interview in the Boston Traveller. J 1 think Grant will be defeated if he goes before the convention, which I trust he will not; and 1 am very hopeful that Senator Blaine will be nominated. His prospects are better than they were four years ago, and he is gaining every day. The Wett is for him and will give him the nomination. Grant has been President twioe, and ought to de- cline a third candidacy with grace and prompt- ness. The Grant boom is largely a stalwart movement. Let it go on until it breaks, and then its supporters will naturally and gener- ally rally for Blaine and nominate him. I shall earnestly support Gen. Grant if nomi- nated, and do not care to give any reasons against him, if indeed I have any except the well know n utterances of Republicans against electing any President a third time. Take New Hampshire, for instance. If Grant is our candidate, what shall we say when our own resolutions of 1875 and 1876, unani- mously passed, are hurled at us by the Demo- crats? I have them here. In January,#1875, we declared "our unalterable opposition to the election of any man to the presidency of the United States for a third terra." Not satisfied with that, even after President Grant had declined another nomination, we, in Jan- uary, 1876, said : "We reaffirm our unalter- able opposition to the election of any Presi- dent for a third term." With the small Re- publican majority we have in New Hamp- shire, those who advocate Grant's nomina- tion should tell us what reply we shall make in our papers and on the stump to those em- phatic utterances. --1 « »» -- Nearly 35,000 immigrants have arrived at Castle Garden since January 1, and the most encouraging feature of the immigration is, that by far the larger part are people of some means, who aim directly for the West, where they purchase homesteads and settle down to the cultivation of the soil. Written for the Herald. THE PIONEER. Across the dreary and trackless wastes of the plains the pioneer ha9 in his trail of blood, toil and suffering erected a monument more enduring than marble or granite. En compassing the almost impassable and im penetrable barrier of the Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountains, he has made his seal and built the foundation of an empire destined to outrival the traditional glories of ancient Rome. "Westward the Star of Empire wends its way" until it halts before the great line formed by nature to stop its progress. It is with the pioneer of the present that we have to deal—men of our time who have forsaken home, friends and kindred to ex plore and develop a comparatively trackless desert; men}.of brains, nerve, resolution, courage and unswerving devotion to the ob ject of their design. When Marshall, at Feather river, Califor nia, discovered the golden sands glittering in Capt. Sutter's mill-race the first grand impe tus was given to a cause, which, commencing shortly after, is not yet ended. The first great emigration to California was composed of the youth and flower of the East, coupled with the muscle and force of the Westerm squatter, who, abiding on the outskirt of civilization rod seeking fresh scenes and pas tures new, boldly struck across the great ocean of waste for the new El Dorado on the Pacific coast. The pioneers of the early days of California composed men of energy ambition and intellect. Many of them fresh from the colleges of the East, their youthful imagination fired with the wild stories of fortunes lying scattered through the wild, in accessible canyons, and the storm and snow clad summits of the Sierras; and braving the long sea voyage around Cape Horn they swarmed over and peopled a country inhab ited by a class foreign to their language and customs and who looked upon them with suspicion and distrust. Transforming themselves on their arrival from the garb of fashion ; exchanging their clothing for that of a coarser nature they left the coast for the scenes of the reported dis coveries. Others, with prospector's outfit of pick, pan and provisions, turned over rock and dirt in hill, gulch and canyon in search of the precious metal. No matter what oc cupation the pioneer followed in the East, whether lawyer, doctor or preacher by profes sion, the ruling passion seized him and made him a miner. Be it understood that a man's occupation cannot be judged by what he fol lows in the mining countries. 1 have traveled extensively through California, Nevada, Mon tana, Idaho, Oregon and Utah, and never have I found a more intelligent lot of men among the laboring class, the men of the mining countries being far superior to those of like rank in the older 8tates. It was a common thing in the early days of a mining country to find professional men—ex-bank ers and ex-merchants working in the mines with pick and shovel. What a contrast is this fact to the typical miner of Mark Twain and Bret Harte, with his swagger and slang phrase. The ideal differs considerably from the real, flow many were successful in this race for wealth and colonization is hard to tell. The race for gold was the harder one to win. Those who settled upon land and in dustriously cultivated it were invariably suc cessful, while on the other hand the gold seeker was often doomed to hitter disappoint ment. How many thousand have returned to the States broken down in health, with energy and ambition curbed by cruel disap pointment, will never be known. Tc the steady and persevering pioneer the road was clear and easily won. California stands to-day atnoDg.the first of the States in wealth and resources. She has all the elements of empire, and her mines, which have enriched the world by upwards of two thousand millions, though slowly de clining in production, are inexhaustible ; her agricultural resources are unsurpassed. Her climate, in a sanitary and luxurious sense, bears comparison, in mellowness, richness and beauty, with the tropics, while her com merce, stretching its broad hand across the Pacific clasps and embraces the Orient, the birthplace and cradle of civilization and pro gress. Colorado next received the pioneer's atten tion. Gold once struck in the Rocky moun tains the question of the settlement of that unknown and almost inaccessible region was forever settled. The Rocky mountains, known only in legend through Lewis and Clarke, Bonneville and Fremont, were swarming with pioneers whose wills and pur poses were as determined and inflexible as the hills that confronted them. For many years the pioneer struggled destitute and al most penniless. With faith in the future as proved by the past he stuck to his mines and lands until the world was convinced of his as sertions. Colorado, now a Stale, has entered upon an era of prosperity, the end of which is not within the province of any of us to foretell. Tracing the path of civilization as it surges from the East and West, and planting his standard upon the summit of the Rocky mountains the pioneer uncovered to the world a country, which in the richness and extent of its production of gold by its placers ranks next to California.. I refer to the country in which we now have oar homes—Montana— the real gem of the mountains. With her resources we are all personally conversant. Her rivers, with water abundantly sufficient to irrigate every acre of land required for til lage, with capacity for unlimited mill power, her hills covered with rich and nutritious grasses capable of maintaining thousands of herds of cattle, sheep and horses, her timber and fuel inexhaustible, her mines of gold, silver, copper, lead and coal second to none in the world, without peer, and unrivaled, she stands to-day the proudest monument of the bravery, energy and indomitable perse verance of the pioneer. All she requires is the purse of the capitalist and the plow of the yeoman to fit her for her crown in the galaxy of States whicL constitutes our com mon country. Why is it then that capital should stand idle while the riches Montana possesses await hut the touch of. her hand to flow out and fill the coffers of the world. I think Montana's future is close at hand. The railroad, that forerunner of capital, confidence and enterprise, will, before another year rolls by, be completed far into the bosom of the Territory, and Montana will enter upon an era of prosperity unexampled and without parallel in her history. Seeing Montana as I have seen other countries, with half her re sources, I am astonished at the slow progress that has been made in the development of her mines. All that is wanted to do it is cap ital, and that will come as a necessary conse quence when the attention of the world has been brought to her extraordinary richness. Tfce work of pioneering in Nevada and Idaho it is not necessary for me to refer to in this paper. They are the offshoots and los ter children of California. The footprint of the pioneer can be found in their valleys and ravines, hills and gukhes, and he has left his indellible mark on the future of those coun tries. Those coming to Montana during the last few years can hut faintly imagine the hard ship, toil and suffering undergone by the early settlers. They find in this Territory a culture, refinement and luxury that will favorably compare with the older States. The pioneer was invariably a laborer. No work, if honorable, was considered disgrace ful for him to engage in. Whether prospect ing the mountains with his pick and shovel, or settling down upon a ranch, he was the same indefatigable worker, shunning no labor however hard or tiresome. For by labor the world has been subdued and man redeemed from barb|ri6m. Not a single step in civili zation has been made without it. It is the most essential factor in progress. Shallow indeed is he, who, iu the individuality of his self-conceited self-importance, imagines thaï the world owes him a living without using the necessary exertion to oht&iu it, or he who • looks contemptuonsly.upon those who are not afraid to soil their hands or harden their, muscle in the effort to obtain it. From the dawn of civilization in tbs-east to its halt before the setting sun, labor has been the harbinger of progress in mechanics, the arts and the sciences, and to it we owe all the blessings, all the liberties, alPthe luxr uries, all the rights that we now enjoy. Thus it is ordained that the Pioneer should lead the van in the march of progress, and while the earth in its eternal revolution around the sun ; while year succeeds year, century succeeds century, the Pioneer, true to his trust, accomplished his mission, fulfils his destiny until time shall be no more. J. Ed. Fox. Bristol (Penn.) Observer: If printing paper continues to advance, newspapers will be forced to use common white satin with a plain gilt border instead. They will much dislike to resort to so cheap a substitute but when rag print pots on a pair of telej. Jiph climbers and the paper men plunge their thumbs into the armholes of their vests and ask you what are you going to do shout it, something must be done, and it is to be hoped that the reading public will gracefully submit to Laving their newspapers printed on inex pensive material until these bloated itraw stack and rag-bag holders can be driven to the wall, And publishers can afford to return to the use of paper. We're in for barking down the giant monopoly, and if it becomes necessary to print the paper on a bleached rubber blanket and have men go around and hold it while people read it, we shall not shrink from our duty when volunteers are called for.