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Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, September 15, 1887, Image 1

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t££ 1 SP
<jfl|c itlcclily Jerald.
B. E FISK 0. Ä. FISK. »7j. FISK"
Publishers and Proprietors.
Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana
Rates of Subscription.
One Year. (In ndvance).............................S3 00
Hix Months, (In advance)............................... 1 75
Three Months, (in advance)........................... 1 00
When not paid for in advance the r>*<e will be
Four Dollars per yeaii
Postage, in all cases, Prepaia.
City Subscribers.delivered by carrier 81.00a month
One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. 8'.» 00
Six Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00
Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 2 50
If not paid in advance, 812 per annum.
*#*A11 communications should be addressed to
FISK BROS., Publishera,
Helena, Montana.
Foreseen thro' all or glad, bright summer days
Has been this parting hour, when sep'rute ways
We'd walk once more.
Your holiday is over, and you must
Meet sterner duties elsewhere, net, I trust.
More weakly than before.
Not weaker for this dose communion, dear.
Soul unto soul,
But stronger for man's duties, that stern part
In life's allotment that our heart
Has chosen for its goal.
Your pathway lies in other places.
And raid new scenes and fairer faces
You will forget,
While 1 walk on among the olden duties
With mute regret.
Ah, me! how fain my womans heart would
Not valueless nor easily snapped the link
That binds us now.
From the deepest undercurrent of tlio't.
Flow ing from mind to mina twas forged and
And yet I trow,
Not glass more brittle is. Alas ! the heart.
Which in our friendship has had so lhtle part—
Been counted vain—
« ou Id weave from nothingness a stronger tie
Than this l'.atonlc chain.
'And so farewell, my friend." my poor heart
says ;
Farewell, dear, golden summer days."
Her dimpled cheeks are pale ;
she's a lilv of the vale,
Not a rose.
In a muslin or a lawn
she is fairer than the dawn
To her beaus.
Her floots are slim and neat,
she is warm al>out the feet.
it is said.
'he amputates her r's.
But her eyes are like the star
On a balcony at night
With a tleecy cloud of white
Round her hair—
Her grace, ah. who could paint
she would fascinate a saint.
I declare.
Tis a matter of regret,
she's a bit of a coquette
Whom I sing.
On lier cruel path she g<>e~
With a half a dozen beaus
To her string.
But let all that pass by.
As her maiden moments ily.
Dew ein pearled.
When she marries, on my life.
She will make the deare't wife
In the world.
The Enamored Ornithologist.
I have a love—I call her dove -
And she is passing fair, oh!
Though plump is she, there are who say
She's tv hat they call a sparrow.
Unto the duck I'd weave a song,
Yet how shall I begin it?
For, though her head is plumed with
There's very little linnet.
Canary love lie like this love
That keeps my heart a throbkiu*?
It steels my thought by night and day
And all my peace is robin.
Oh. what a goose am I to quail
When near the pretty sinner;
For if I cassowary much,
I should pigeon and winner.
I .Id,
No 1'ishing for Him.
All the fools may go a-fishing
If they choose;
I've no patience that I'm wishing
Thus to lose;
Let them broil 'neath sun, and swelter,
Give to me
But the genial shade and shelter
Of a tree.
Life is far too great a treasure,
And the cost
Of such mockery of pleasure
Is time lost.
No! I have no use for fishes
On a line,
Therefore, served in dainty dishes.
Give me mine.
—Boston Budget.
^One Touch of Nature, Etc.
There are some evils all must share
And equally endure.
Some miseries the rich must bear
As often as the poor.
When blazing are the solar fires
And shirts to shoulders stick.
The fat rich man blows, puffs, perspires,
As much as lab'rer Dick.
The poor man bathing in the pool
Dreads not the noonday glare,
There he can keep himself as cool
As any millionaire. — Boston Courier.
A Woman at tho Bottom of It.
That women thus should scold and grieve
At men for alcoholic shakt-s.
Seems wrong, fer well we know 'twasEve
That first had aught to do with snakes.
—Washington Critic.
Jenkins—Ah! my dear fellow, I under
stand that you and Miss Ponsonby are friends
no longer.
De Slingsby—Yes, I've given her the cut
J.—Indeed! What was the matter?
De S.—Oli, her tastes are too horwid, 'pon
J.—In what respect?
De S.—Why. sho weally pwefers some one
pIso to me.—Boston Budget.
Could Do Something for Her,
' Tongue cannot tell how much I love you,
iliss Clara," lie said. "I would do anything
in the world for you."
' Would you?" she asked, wearily.
''Try me."
''Well, go and spend the evening with Lily
'Lily Brown! What for?" he asked, aston
T hate her."—New York Sun.
It I» Generally Thus.
The Rev. Mr. Highflyer—I delivered that
*rmon Offband. I hadn't given it a mo*
] nent s thought. How did you like it? Frank
earer—I can't say. You see, I didn't give
1 11 moR ient's thought, either —Unidentified.
Something Almut the Soldiers' Cemeteries
at Vicksburg, Neiv Orleans ami Other
Points—List of National Cemeteries.
The lllne anil the Gray.
[Special Correspondence.]
Vicksburg, Aug. 30.
On Fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread ;
And glory guards with jealous round
The bivouac of the dead.
This verse from a Confederate general's
poem is cast in bronze and set up with other
lines of similar sentiment in eighty-one na
tional cemeteries, where sleep those who died
that "under God, government of the people,
by the people and for the jieople might not
perish from the earth." The largest cemetery
maintained by the government is here at the
chief city of the bayou state. There are
Hl.OOfi headstones in this great assembly of
the dead—soldiers that have stacked their
arms and surrendered to the final conqueror.
One of the principal features of Vicksburg is
this vast cemetery. The rough and ragged
hills which form a part of tho bank of the
Father of Waters have been fashioned into a
place of profound beauty and impressive
ness. Forty-seven acres are inclosed, in tho
improvement of which the government has
expended more than £000,000. Ten men,
under charge of a superintendent—a private
soldier from Ohio—are constantly em
played in keeping the grounds in order. On
the most elevated point stands the monument,
or what is left of it, originally erected on the
spot w here Grant and Pemberton arranged
l'or the surrender of the city after the long
and terrible siege. Relic hunters had so
defaced it by chipping off pieces that to save
it from utter destruction it was removed to
the cemetery and a cannon substituted. Be
low us sweeps the majestic river, but since
the siege it avoids the town and strikes the
bluff a mile or so below tho old landing. The
former bed of the river is now a lake, and
where the great gunboats lay and belched
fire ami destruction into the devoted city is
now a bank of sand covered,with a growth of
coarse grasses and underbrush. All around
the city are signs of combat.
Such war, such waste, such fiery tracks of dearth.
Nature, however, is busy repairing the rav
ages of man. With the magic use of sun
shine and rain she is smoothing the earth
works and tilling up the rifle pits.
In this Vicksburg city of silence, with
more inhabitants than in the living city,
there are 12.1 10 graves marked with head
stones which bear numbers only, the occu
pants being unknown. The bones of these
unidentified sleepers were gathered from
battlefields, near and remote, brought here
by contract. A price was given for each,
and negroes scoured the country for skele
tons. It is claimed that old negro grave
yards were robbed and their contents brought
to this place of l>eauty, and laid side by side
with the brave boys of the northland who
died in the heat and dust, in the cold and
rain, with wounds and with fever, and so far
away from home. Peace and pity for the
soldier, but what of the mercenary who for
liis pieces of silver practiced such a w icked
imposition? Of the stones standing at tho
head of each grave only 3,89o contain inscrip
tions, which include name, compati}' ami
regiment, and in case of officers the rank.
At Chalmette cemetery, just below New
Orleans, there are 12,521 graves, with 5,G74
unknown occupants. The hospitals con
tributed full share to the known dead of
Chalmette. This cemetery covers fifteen and
a half acres and is apart of the site of the
battlefield on w hich Jackson repulsed Pack
euham's men and saved New Orleans during
the war of 1812-14, which event is duly com
memorated on the 8th of January, every
year, by the people of the Crescent City. The
cemetery wall crosses the line of earthworks
throw n up by the Americans, and on which
the cotton bales w ere placed to give additional
protection from the bullets of tho invaders.
The location is greatly unlike that at Vicks
burg; here the ground is level as a floor, with
the surface of the river above, the water kept
from submerging it and tho surrounding
country ami city only by a mere wall of
earth; there tho white headstones are scat
tered over hills high above tho swelling
floods; here the eye sweeps up and down long
rows, twenty-four in number, each a half
mile in length, in all twelve miles of graves;
in both shell roads and walks, and flower
beds and evergreens artistically arranged.
The roses and trees are fragrant and the
heavy foliage droops as if in everlasting sor
row; the thick leaved ambrosial live oaks,
the heavy trailing creepers of the vines, the
magnolias and myrtles, the light swa}ing
banners of the moss, ail landing low as if in
funeral mourning. Near by the Chalmette
cemetery is the tall shaft built in 1835 by con
gress in honor of Jackson's victory. It shows
the effects of time, the brick foundation is
moldering away, the interior stairway broken
and dangerous under foot, and a year or two
ago the top of the marble pile was knocked
"IT by lightning. The neglected monument
stands in a rice field, inaccessible during the
growing season, owing to the water, and from
sigbtseekers mutely
Implores the passing tribute ->T a sigh.
The total number of interments in tho
j various national cemeteries reach the great
figures of 308,331, of which there are 152,117
known whites and 119,490 unknown; colored
known, 15,005 and 20,503 unknown; and Con
federate prisoners, 2fV*L Seventy-eight of
the eighty-one national cemeteries are under
charge of superintendents. A list of these
cemeteries, with the number of interments,
may be of interest. Jt is alphabetimlff as
Alexandria, La.. 1,280 Fort Scott, Ks. . 109
Alexandria, Ya... 3,4-14 Fort Smith, Ark . 1,004
Anderson ville, Ga. 13,717 Fred'ksburg, Yu.. 0,003
Annapolis, Md____ 3,474 Gettysburg, Pa... 3,573
Antietani, Md____ 4,070 Glendale, Va _____ 030
Arlington. Ya____ 10,200 Grafton, \V. Ya.. 1,220
Ball's Bluff, Ya... 250 Hampton, Ya____ 4,181
Barrancas, Fla... 955 Jefferson bar
Baton Bouge, La. 2,922 racks, St. Louis 010
Beaufort. S. C____ 8,219 Keokuk, la....... 590
Beverly, N. J_____ 145 Knoxville. Tenu .. 3,061
Brownsville, Tex. 2,967 Laurel, Md...... 238
Camp Butler,near Lebanon, Ky...... 817
Springfield Ills. 087 I.ogan's Cross
C'mpNelson.Nieh- Roads. Ky...... 0(11
olasville, Ky____ 3,520 Loudon Pork, Md. 1,630
Cave Hill, near Marietta, Ga..-,____10,052
Louisville, Ky. 3,774 Memphis, Tenu... 13,838
Chalmette, X. O., 12,521 Mobile, Ala....... 810
Chattanooga..... 12,948 Mound City, Ills.. 5,090
City Point, Va ____ 3.828 Nashville, Tenn. .. 10,538
Cold Harbor, Ya.. 1,941 Natchez, Miss..... 3,062
Corinth, Miss..... 5,670 New Albany, Ind. 2,758
Crown Hill, near Newbern, N. C.... 2,318
Indianapolis,... 708 Philadelphia, Pa.. 1,819
Culpepper, Ya.... 1,348 Poplar Grove, Ya. 5,525
Custer's battle Port Hudson.Miss. 3.80-1
field, M.T...... 259 Raleigh, N. C..... 1,159
Cypress Hill, on Richmond, Ya____ 4,835
L. I., N. Y ______ 3,115 Rock Island, Ills.. 289
City of Mexico.. 1,004 Salisbury, X. C.... 12,130
Danville, Ya...... 1,293 Shiloh, Tenn...... 3,590
Danville, Ky..... 359 San Antonio, Tex. 483
Elmira, N. Y ..... 3,995 Seven Pines, Ya.. 7'89
Finn's Point, N.J. 2,779 Soldiers' Home,O. 5,238
Florence. S. C____ 2,958 Springfield, Mo... 1,518
Fort Donelson____ 039 Stone River,Tenn. 0,003
Fort Gibson, I. T. 2,152 Vicksburg, Miss.. 10,006
Fort Harrison, Va. 250 Whitehall, Pa..... 60
Ft. Leavenworth 1,108 Wilmington, X. C. 10,005
Fort McPherson.. 443 Winchester, Va. .. 4.035
Fayetteville, Ark. 1,210 Yorktown, Ya— 1,506
Virginia has the largest number of ceme
teries—fourteen. Virginia, Tennessee and
Mississippi, in their order, were the battle
states of the struggle. The dead of the civil
war are not all gathered in national ceme
teries—none but those of the victors. There
are many other graves in the south w hich
enfold soldiers as valorous as those from the
Sad chance of war! Now, destitute of aid.
Falls undistiu guish'd by the victor's spade.
No stone or epitaph marks their last resting
place. They too boro themselves with un
daunted courage, nerved to heroic endurance,
and following the right as God gave them b.
see the l ight. No people ever suffered u
greater penalty for drawing the sword. They
were loyal and devoted to their cause, and
the spots of earth—home—they died battling
for, and the soil that drank up their blood is
wher they rest.
Scatter bright ros* s o'er the grave
I >f every soldier, proud ami brave,
Who died in gray or blue;
Who fell beneath the stripes ami stars,
Or died where waved Confederate bam.
To Hag and country true.
On either side of freedom's line
Bring brightest flowers to deck each shrine.
We ask not now what flag they bore;
Bean not the uniform they wore
On each supreme occasion.
We know they bravely fought ami fell
To crush, withstand, resist or quell
Rebellion or invasion.
And threw their lives into the fray
In frock of blue or blouse of gray.
Nature decorates the graves of the undis
covered dead, scattering wild flowers with
gentle hand alike upon the resting places of
both t he victors and the vanquished.
In 1807 the women of Columbus, Miss., in
augurated the custom of decorating the
graves of their own as well as those of the
northern soldier dead, an event which called
forth the poem of "The Blue and the Gray."
Sadly, but not with upbraiding.
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of years that are fading
No braver battle was won.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war cry sever
Or the winding rivers be red ;
They banish our anger forever,
When they laurel t he graves of our dead.
Under the sod ami dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue, .
Tears and love for the (iray.
Moses Folsom.
A Revolutionary War Widow.
There are but two revolutionary' widows
left. One of them is Mrs. Mary Casey, of
Washington C. H., O., whose portrait ac
companies this
sketch. Her hus
band was John
Casey, a revolu
tionary soldier. He
was living in the
mountains of Vir
ginia when the war
of the revolution
broke out. and was
among the first to
offer his services.
When the war was
over ho settled in >}«'
Kanawhd comity, *" ™
Va. When about mus. mary casey.
78 years of age, he went on a trip to Jackson
county, O., and there met the lady
who is now his widow. .She was
but 10. They were married soon after be
coming acquainted. One of Mrs. Casey's sons
is in the regular army. Mrs. Casey has just
been granted a pension from the government.
Abigail Tilton, of New Hampshire, is the
other revolutionary war widow. She receives
a pension from both the state and national
government amounting to $300 a year.
A Camera in Danger.
"I suppose the usual crop of summer nuis
ances is showing up about here, Fanner
Jones. Have you struck the amateur pho
tographer yet?"
"Not yet; but I expect to. I've got a club
ready for him."—Drake's Magazine.
This Will Make Butchers Growl.
"I see," said Smith, looking over the mar
ket reports, "that imported bologna sausage
remains firm."
"Humph !" ejaculated Jones. "Of course it
is firm. Did you ever know a bull dog to let
go?"—Newman Independent
Willing to Take Anything Else.
"Hanging is too good for you," said a judge
to a condemned man. "I know it is," replied
the prisoner frankly; "andif you can sug
gest anything else, judge, you can't do it too
quick."—Drake's Magazine.
liis Splendid Intellect u Wreck—His
House iu Coniston—Peculiarities of liis
Malady—His Art Treasures—His Views
ou Political Economy.
Tho great Ruskin is insane. The artist,
critic ami philosopher that was, is now a men
tal wreck, under the vigilant care of nurses
for the mad. For some time a rumor has
been flying about London to the effect that
John Buskin's retirement from literary work
was due to a mental breakdown. And now
the rumor has crystallized into a well know n
fact. The master of English prose is now a
baby in intellect.
The life of so eminent a man is known to
almost everybody. Ho was born in London
in tho year 1819. His father, a Scotchman,
was a successful wine merchant, and left to
his son a fortune of £7,000 a year. On the
death of his mother this fortuno was in
creased considerably. Thus, from the begin
ning of his career, ho was able to gratify his
artistic and literary tastes without fear of the
bugbear of .poverty. His parents were de
voted to him. He has given an account of
his childhood and their care in training him.
He records that his mother even went to Ox
ford and staid there during term time.
Ruskin is best known as an art critic, but
he is also famous for liis writings on political
economy, in which he excoriates the sordid,
money seeking tendencies of tho age. He
has be called the head of a school of self
denial, honest art and genuine culture.
Mr. Ruskin was graduated in 184" at Ox
ford, having studied at Christ Church col
lege, and immediately afterward devo teil
himself to the study of art, particularly
water color drawing.
ln 1843 Mr. Ruskin published his "Modern
Painters," which was a defense of landscape
art, especially of the paintings o f Turner. It
was completed in five volumes in 1800,
Meantime he traveled extensively, and also
produced "The Seven Lamps of Architec
ture" and "The Stones of Venice." Ho as
serted the superiority of modern art over
ancient art, and was among the first support
ers of the pre-Raphaelite school in one branch
at least. In 1807 he was.named Rede pro
fessor at Cambridge, in 1809 professor of the
fine arts at Oxford and later Slade professor.
Mr. Kuskin's home, Brantwood, is built
romantically, but unhealthfully, at tho base
of a hill near the edge of Coniston lake, one
of the loveliest spots in the English lake dis
trict. When ho purchased it the house was a
mere crumbling shed ; but he has made it a
dwelling fit for a philosopher, if not a king.
Curiously enough a superstition prevails
among his ignorant neighbors that the curse
of insanity is sure to fall upon the proprietors
of Brantwood. An artist named Lynton,
who formerly owned it, lost his mind and
died there. This, of course, gave rise to the
superstition. Within the house is an inex
haustible museum of artistic treasures. Pic
tures there are in abundance, enough to crys
tallize into a fortune. Among them are
many Turners, since Ruskin was a Turner
worshiper. Art and science are equally
represented in the various articles lying
about—here a manuscript, there a picture;
here a section of a stone, there the anatomy
of a plant. The furniture of the house is
strong and substantial—not in the least
aesthetic. Much of it belonged to Mr. Rus
kin's father.
Of Ruskiu's inherited wealth nothing re
mains—nothing but the pictures. It has
melted away under the fervor of his passion
for everything that is rare, beautiful and
costly. And he has always had certain ideas
of comfort which it took money to gratify.
For a long time past he could not be induced
to travel by rail or steamboat if it could be
avoided, but went about in his private car
riage. Then, too, he was generous to a ruin
ous degree. For years he had a list of pen
sioners who would cause the purse of a
Vanderbilt to collapse. They were mostly
writers w ho failed to get coin for their work,
and artists who had made the fight and
broken down before it was ended. His books
bring him in from £2,000 to £3,000 a year,
and upon this he is now living. Even that
gets sadly straitened sometimes, and occa
sionally a picture disappears and is sold in
London by a dealer w ho has been Buskin's
lifelong friend, and always for a far higher
price than Mr. Ruskin paid for it. The fact
that it is from his collection enhances its
Ruskiu's cousin, Mrs. Arthur Severn, has
devoted herself to him with great unselfish
ness since the divorce which ended his un
happy marriage. To her he has made over
' ..... case of his
death. In the deed he deprives himself of
j the power to revoke the gift.
His attacks of aberration change l:is entire
character. The present attack began in April,
und took at first an unusually violent form.
He is very fond of children, and in a sort of
way ho had adopted a number of girls from
8 to 14 years of age, children of poor vil
lagers, who went to Brantwood to be in
structed in music at his expense, and also to
pursue other studies. Among his ignorant
neighbors, somo of w hom were jealous that
their own children were not among the num
ber, this caused unpleasant gossip, and Mrs.
Severn and her husband induced Ruskin to
forbid the children tho house. This made
Ruskin very angry at Mrs. Severn. He im
mediately sat Jown and wrote letters all over
the country denouncing Mrs. Severn in the
strongest terms. Fortunately ho left the
Sraling of the letters to his faithful valet,
Baxter, who saw that they were never posted.
Baxter never leaves him, and, it is said, is
not in the least influenced by the fact that
his master discharges him at least once a day.
Mr. Ruskin went to live at the little coun
try inn, and t hen to the cottage of a former
servant, accompanied by Baxter, of course.
He got possession of his check book, and gave
checks right and left, till he had overdrawn
his bank account. Then his malady took an
other turn. All excitement disapj.eared, and,
ill physically as well as mentally, lie took to
his bed in a melancholy and almost silly con
dition. Then he gfewr better, but was soon
worse again, this time becoming more violent
than before. It was necessary to remove the
pictures from his bedroom, lest he destroy
them by his violence. Since then he has im
proved somewhat, and left Brantwood a
fortnight ago, but whither he lias gone no
one at Coniston knows. Everything in tin*
house is put away carefully, as though a long
absence was contemplated. On leaving the
place the unhappy owner remarked t liât he
might lit Ter see it again.
A Costly Toilet Set.
.Sarah Bernhardt has prepared to astonish
the world in the matter of toilet sets. While
in America recently and just liefere leaving
New York on her western trip she stepped
into a well known New' York house and or
dered a toilet set of solid silver to be made
for her at a cost of 83,030. it includes a
washbowl more tbantwofeet in diameter and
1 L ' j
holding tight gallons, together with a pitcher
fifteen and one-half me a high holding five
gallons, puff boxes of enormous size, trays,
etc. The New York World in telling the
story of the se. .■* iysSarah went into ecstasies
when the designer showed her his drawings.
She said: "Howbeautiful!" w ith the accent
on the "beaut," and could not suggest a single
improvement. Then she prayed that the
things might be made at tho earliest jxissible
moment and sent to her immediately in what
ever part of the world sho might be. Skilled
workmen were set at the task forthwith.
Large sheets of sterling silver were spun and
hammered into the desired shapes, and the
monograms and coats of arms w ere sawed
out of solid gold and delicately modeled by
the chaser. The work was carried on with a
secrecy equal to its dispatch, and the set has
already been delivered to the tradegy queen.
The pieces are ornamented with a coat of
arms representing tragedy and comedy.
X/ \
Henry S. Ives.
We present today a portrait of Henry S.
Ives, the young Napoleonic financier whose
fiduciary exploits have made him so notori
ous and whose conduct of various railroad of
fices is being so anxiously inquired about by
certain people, in
cluding the execu
tors of the law of
the land as inter
preted in New
York city. Mr.
Ives was originally
from Norwich,
Conn. While he
was still quite
; young he took up
his abode in New
York, where he
was for a time a
clerk at £8 a week.
And it is from such
small beginnings
that the airy fabric of his wealth and reputa
tion grew. We will not attempt to delve
deeper into the mysteries of his biography
at present. He is making more all the time,
and the close of the present period thereof
will be soon enough to write it out.
Governor AVasliington Bartlett.
Governor Washington Bartlett, of Califor
nia, who may have joined the silent ma
jority before these words are read, was born
in Georgia, and in 1S49 went to California
with tho ou» lit for a printing office. Snortly
after his arrival in
San Francisco ho
set up Lis press and
had the honor of
publishing the first
newspaper that
ever was issued in
tho metropolis of
the Pacific slope.
During his career
as a publisher he
issued The Journal
of Commerce and
The News. But
ten years after his
arrival on the gold- governor bartlett.
en coast he abandoned journalism for
politics and was that same year
elected county clerk. He has ever since
been in public life, Laving held office con
tinuously. In 1882 he was chosen mayor of
San Francisco, and, as in Cleveland's ease,
the mayoralty proved a stepping stone to the
office of chief magistrate of his state. Gov
ernor Bartlett was elected on tl e Democratic
ticket, but his successor, Lieutenant Gov
ernor Waterman, was chosen on the Repub
lican ticket, and was the only one of that
party who was successful at the polls. Gov
ernor Bartlett's disorder is Bright's disease,
aggravated by paralysis, and its disastrous
turn was due to overwork during the recent
session of the legislature.
' .5
The Story of Ills Useful ami Busy Life.
How He Became an Astronomer—How
His Telescopes Were Manufactured—His
Honors at Home and Abroad.
Alvan Clark, whose death at Cambridge,
Mass., at the age of 83, was recently recorded,
did more to advance astronomical science
than any other person of this century. As a
telescope maker his reputation is world wide.
When Dorn Pedro, of Brazil, visited this
country some years ago he said there were
three persons in Cambridge whom be w anted
much to see. These were Longfellow, Pro
fessor Agassiz and Mr. Alvan Clark.
At the age when most persons think they
are too old to begin any new business or learn
anything, or even go on energetically with
what they do know, Mr. Clark began the
work which made him famous. He did not
so much as know anything about it. Nor did
he ever see a lens in process of construction
outside ol his own shop. He lived on a farm
until he was 23
years old. His
early education
was such as the
common schools
afforded. In his
23d year he went
to Lowell and be
came a calico en
graver. He had a
talent for drawing
which he devel
oped unaided. For
nine years Mr.
Clark w as a calico
engraver. Mean
alvan CLARK. while he took up
portrait painting. He located in Boston and
painted heads for twenty years, earning over
$20,000 with his brush, without ever having
been taught anything about the art. Though
ho grew famous in quite another field, it was
to his days of artist life that he always went
back in memory with the most, affection.
And during his later years he again took up
the brush and found pleasure and recreation
in the work of his young manhood.
He was more than 40 when he became in
terested in telescopes. Assisted by his two
sons he afterward produced the most accu
rate and the two largest instruments in the
world. His eldest son, George B. Clark,
while in college at Andover read a treatise
on "Casting and Grinding the Speculum."
Inspired by that ho conceived the idea of
making a telescope. Ho consulted liis father,
who at once became deeply interested in it.
They worked together at the experiment, and
from this small beginning came the great
work which brought them fame and wealth.
Both sons were later included in the business,
and the firm was known as Clark & Rons.
and they worked together nearly forty years.
Grinding lenses is a work which requires
the utmost nicety. Often, after months of
careful labor, a flaw is found and all the
work must bo lost. Once w hen Mr. Clark
was giving the final polishing to a lens upon
which a year's time had been expended, it
fell to the floor and was broken. Looking
woefully at the fragments a few moments
in silence, he stood up, saying: "Boys, we
will make a better one." The unlimited pa
tience which enabled him to be cheerful un
der such a disaster was his chief character
istic. And he was ever cheerful and com
Mr. Clark was the first optician iu the
United States to make achromatic lenses,
each completed lens being composed of two
pieces, one of crown and the other of flint
glass, and he invented numerous improve
ments m telescopes and their manu
facture, including the double eye piece,
an ingenious method of measuring
small celestial arcs. He made the 18% inches
glass now in the Chicago observatory, tho
one of 24 inches aperture for the Washington
observatory, and a 30 inch refractor for the
Imperial observatory of St. Petersburg, for
which the honorary medal of Russia was
awarded—tho only one ever conferred upon
an American. The last and greatest work of
Mr. Clark and his sons was the construction
of a 30 inch refractor for the Lick observa
tory on Mt. Hamilton, in California. This
will be finished in a few months, and will
be the largest in tho world. Air. Clark was
also an astronomer of note, and made some
valuable discoveries, for'which the Lalande
gold medal was awarded him by the French
academy. The cheapest telescope Mr. Clark
ever made cost $300, while the National he
sold for $40,000, and the Lick glass will cost
$50,000 without the mounting. The objec
tives alone to these instruments are worth
$25,000 each, and are capable of a magnify
ing power of 2,000 diameters, and of increas
ing the surface of the object viewed to
2,500,000 times its natural size. It takes a
testing a lens.
month's solid labor to make a good 4 inch
objective, and a year for an 8 or 10 inch one.
In recognition of his great contributions to
science degrees were conferred on Mr. Clark
by the universities of Harvard, Amherst,
Princeton and Chicago, but he had worked
at telescopes for ten years without receiving
the slightest recognition or encouragement
from any official, scientific or educational
quarter. And yet these ten years were those
of the revival or foundation of practical
astronomy in the United States. To Mr.
Dawes, a scientific divine of Europe, is due
the credit of bringing out this telescope
maker. At the time Mr. Clark began a
correspondence with Mr. Dawes there was not
in all England an establishment which could
' ' • •'— accurate
shape. England had lost the art of
shaping object glasses, but rough glass
of the necessary purity and uniformity
was cast there as in no other country. Mr.
Clark for some time imported his rough disks
to fill the orders he received from Mr. Dawes,
who was a telescope fancier, always on tho
lookout for improvements in construction
and mounting.
Only the very largest lenses are ground by
machinery. Tho tools for grinding a lens are
very simple—merely round plates of cast iron,
about three feet in diameter, hollowed out to
suit the curves of the lens. They look like
huge, shallow saucers. Three of these tools
are necessary, one nearly flat for the inner
surface of the flint glass, one convex, for
its outer surfnee, and one concave, for the
crown glass. The surfaco of tho tool is
covered with coarse emery and water, the
glass is laid upon it, and the grinding is
carried on by sliding the glass back ami .—
on the tool. While sliding, the glass is slowly
turned round, while, at tho same time, the
operators continually move around in the
other direction, so that the strokes are made
successively in every direction on the tool
By these combined motions every inequality,
either ou the glass or the tool, is gradu
ally worn away, and both are reduced
to portions of nearly perfect spheres. Then
finer emery is used until the surface becomes
quite smooth. Then comes the polishing.
The whole tool is covered with a thin coating
of pitch, which is pressed, while still warm,
into the proper shape. It is then covered
s v ' ;
■TZj/r i t i I VVC Cv
with a layer of water and the polishing rouge,
and the glass is again laid upon it, and kept
in motion in the same way as in the fine
grinding. Thus each surface of the two
glasses is speedily brought to a high polish.
Then the glass is tested to find the defects.
It is set up on edge, facing a luminous point
at a distance equal to ten or fifteen times the
focal length. The image of the point formed
in the focus of the glass is then examined
with an eye piece of high power. The glass
is then taken back to the tool and the polish
ing process is recommenced, only pressing
upon those parts of the glass where it has to
be ground away. It is tried again, and again
goes to the polisher.
So far no extraordinary skill on the part of
the rkmnn is required; but as the size of
the glass is increased the process becomes
more difficult and tedious, and the difficulties
of judging what the defects are increase enor
Tho telescope is by no means finished with
the glass. It must bo tubed properly. It
must admit of being moved by clock work in
such a way that as the earth revolves from
west to east the telescope shall revolve from
east to west with exactly the same velocity,
and thus point steadily at the same s f ar. The
details of the machinery for attaining these
and other results have required t large
amount of thought and care.
ltev. Daniel Ciirry, D. D., LL. D.
The Methodist Episcopal church Las suf
fered a great loss in the death of Rev. Daniel
Curry, D. D., LL. D., who died in New York
recently. As theologian, preacher, journal
ist and debater be was renowned.
He was born in 1808 in wliat is now Cort
landville, near Peekskill. He entered the
Wesleyan university, Middletown, Conn.,
and was graduated two years later. In 1840
he took charge of an academy at Macon, Ga.
Two years afterward he entered the Georgia
conference. The
great conflict over
the slavery quest
ion was then at its
height. Dr. Curry
was an abolitionist,
a co-worker with
Garrison, Whittier
and Phillips, and
when the Methodist
church south was,
established lie re- \
turned to the north. '
Ho entered the
New York Con
ference East and rev. daniel curry.
bold appointments in it for eleven years. In
1S45 be became president of Asbury, now De
Pauw university, at Greencastle, Ind. Two
years later he came east. In 1S04 he became
editor in chief of The Christian Advocate, a
position he held until, in 1870, ill health
forced him out of it. He spent some time in
Europe and after his return edited The
Methodist, which was afterward merged into
Tho Christian Advocate. For the next six
years Dr. Curry devoted himself to theologi
cal writing. lie produced "Fragments,"
"Platform Papers," a new edition <>f "Clark's
Commentary on the New Testament," a "Life
of Bishop Clarke," and other works. In ad
dition to all this he edited The National Re
pository through eight volumes. From 1S84
to his death 'he edited The Methodist Maga
zine. His friends loved and admired him
and his opponents respected him.
Tho Right Training.
"My dear friend," said a man, addressing
an acquaintance, "why don't you do some
thing with your son?"
"What's the matter with him?"
"Why, I noticed that while he was playing
with several little fellows he robbed them of
all their marbles."
"That's all right."
"All right! My gracious, do you want him
to be a robber:"
"Yes, that's the drift of my teachings.
You see, 1 am bringing him up to keep a
summer hQtel."—Arkansaw Traveler.
Disposing of the Surplus.
Old Gentleman (at a sewing class)—I sup
pose, Miss Arabella, that you young ladies
are not interested in the question, What
shall be done with the surplus?"
Miss Arabella—Oh, yes, we are indeed.
We intend to surprise Rev. Mr. Whitecboker
with one, and it is going to be lovely.—Phil
adelphia North American.

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