Frostburg mining journal. [volume], April 27, 1872, Image 1

About Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913

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C. 11. WALK Kit & J. 11. ODER,
.VOLUME T.
Oscula Dulcta.
The happy winds kiss all thoy meet.
As on viewless winjfS they fly:
The valleys kiss the mountain's feet;
And the mountains kiss the sky.
The cloud* kiss Pl.rebo. calm and bright,
That sable sky adorning:
And sunbeams kiss the brow of night
[n the burst of the dey morning.
The rivers kiss, unthrift of love.
Their l anks begemm’d with flowers:
And swallows sweep from heaven above
To 1 iss this w- rid of ours
The foaming billows hi-* the beach
In a wild ungentle fashion:
The weeping willows earthward reach.
To enjoy the darling passion.
Tlie ivy kissesfrom its birth.
All other cares di-mis.-ing:
And all things loveliest on earth
Seem most engaged in kissing.
/It'fgrnvi'*.
* “DOCTOR JOHN.”
M A doctor’s life is a strange one!'’
muttered I)r. John Hessman. as lie
jumped into his carriage, taking the
reins from the hands of the grinning
Ethiopian who for the last twenty min
utes hak been cherishing the fond delu
sion that he was to Accompany his mas
ter on his round of professional inquiry.
“ Not this time, Ebony,” said the doc
tor, with a good matured shrug of his
broad shoulders. “ You shall come to
morrow,” noting the look of disappoint
ment in the boy’s face. Dr. John was
more tender of his servants than some
men of their wives.
“Oh, never mind, Massa, never
mind!” replied Ebony, like the average
human, quite forgetful of annoyance
when the subject of consideration was
distasteful. “I knows what ’tis. I just
knows what *tis,” added Ebony, as he
watched the carriage out of sight.
“ He’s got one of his spells, and want’s
to talk to hisself; I know him of old.
If’twas anybody but Dr. John, I should
just say. ‘ Ebony, that man has got
softeiaing of the skull;’ but no such
nonsense can be laid to him.'*
, Dr. John did want to be alone, or as
much alone as a man could be in the
streets of a crowded city, and he did
want to talk to himself. Most m*n who
are in the habit of communing with
their own souls, do it in audible lan
guage ; so in this respect, whatever he
might he in others. Dr. John did not
differ from his brethren. A man’s own
opinion is not unfrequently his best and
safest companion. It will keep its
owner's secrets, and when the cham
pionship is frequent, will in all cases
properly guide and admonish. Self
corn muni vm in its highest form is the
: venue which leads directly to the heart
f Gold.
“Yes,*’ continued the doctor—‘yes,
sir.” (Sometimes Dr. John was very
respectful to himself.) “A doctoi’s life
is no joke. Easy, my beauty, easy !
Now, John, look at that horse. You are
only just a little more of an animal
than he. is. It’s fun for him to travel
when there’s another horse close by that
he can outrun. Exactly the case with
you, John. If it hadn’t been for another
horse in the shape of a doctor you were
determined to get a little the start of,
where would you have been to day ?
That’B the point. Worthy ambition,
eh ?to pass a poor devil on tin* road of
life? Upon my word, I believe I should
be a better man if 1 had a wife. 1
rather like women; hut it is a little
hard to understand how a fellow mana
ges with a woman tied to him morning,
noon and night That's what takes em.
Then, I am not sure that anybodyM
have me that was anyways suitable. Of
course, I should want intelligence, and
intellectuality, too, by George ! and i
never could endure a plain woman, or
a woman with a loud voice, < r——Yes,
sir, that question is in order,*’ continued
the docior, stroking his long, silky,
black heard. “ That is what I call
driving the nail in. What have you got,
John Ilessman, to give in exchange for
these royal treasure of mind and body ?
A good mini —yes; : n unexceptionable
position, unimpeachable integrity—yes.
sir. These are something;” and here
our M. D. reined up heforo an elegant
brown-stone mansion, where one of hi<
best (pecuniarily speaking) and most
fashionable patients resided. Here Dr.
John was employed by the year; and
although the position was no sinecure,
on account of the amount of patience
required to battle with the nervous fan
cies of the principal invalid of the
establishment, stiil Dr. John, to use hi
own telling vernacular, considered it
“an exceedingly solt thing”—and soil
it was in more senses than one.
Dr. John walked right up into the
i xvalid’s chamber.
“Oh, good morning, doctor. A little
late, aren’t you? Seems to me I have
been waiting an unusual length of
time,’ drawled the lady from her
luxurious couch.
About the usual hour,’’ replied Dr.
John, with no especial show ol defer
ence. “VV hat seems to be the matte*
this morning ?”
“ really, doctor, that is too
cruel. Matter this morning! Do you
remember what was the matter yester
day? Please don’t be so blunt. You
shock my nerves terribly.”
“ Lei me see, said the doctor.
“ Yesterday, according to your own ad
mission, you were fagged out with a
fashionable party and a late supper.
That, of course, cannot be the case to
day.”
“ I know I should not have attempted
it in my weak state, doctor. I know
just what you think of it,” sighed the
fashionable woman from her downy
bed. “But then you men never wiil
understand what society demands of us
women. 1) ar Estelle (dear Estelle was
the invalid's daughter) had quite set her
heart on going to Mrs. Donk’s recep
tion. Of course I could not allow the
dear child to go unattended, and, bless
your heart, Dr. Hessman, the girl's
father would not accompany her to a
party if she fell dead in conseuuence.
Oh, lord, such a time a< 1 did have
about it, trying to induce Mr. Waters to
escort her. 1 really believe that scene
had moie to do with my sufferings to
day than the party had. Dear me, such
a set nun as Mr. Waters is! I told him
says 1. 4 William this may result in my
death t Says he— ‘ When a woman
gets to be forty years old, and don’t
know' enough to take care of her own
health and the ho.iith ol her children,
it is time she died ;’ and then, doc or,
he lit his cigar and putted out of the
h u-e. I tell you this because 1 want
you io know what has so unnerved me,
fcbr.t you may not lay it to the
party. Estelle is quite ill, too, doctor,
and when you have written out my
prescription I wish you would walk
into the next room and see her.*’
Dr. John know that something must
be administer- <1 or his professional repu
tation would be irretrievably ruined, so
with a quiet smile playing round bis
large mouth (Dr. John's mouth was
really very large, and truth compels us
to state that he had an under jaw to
match, though the rows of unexception
ably white and even teeth, and thesilken
chin-covering, glossy and soft as a
woman’s hair, entirely redeemed the
lower part of his face from ugliness) the
physician wrote the few necessary Latin
words, among which aqua seemed really
the most conspicuous, and then passed
imo the other room. The doctor knew
what awaited him. This little game had
been tried more than once before.
“Good morning, Miss Estelle,” said
Mr. John, approaching tlie sofa where
the languid beauty reclined. “ Your
mother tells me you are ill.”
Miss Estelle, with an almost impatient
gesture, brushed back the floating hair
from her temples—carelessly, and really
unintentionally, it would seem, baring
by the motion one of the most beautiful
arms that sculptor ever raved about—
an l replied :
“ Your manner seems to say, 1 Miss
Estelle, you are always ill. Wtiy don’t
you behave yourself?’ Oh, how happy
1 should be, Dr. John, if you would once
in your life be kind to me. Ido really
tli nk something is the matter with my
heart. What if I should die?”
No picture of Watteau’s could ever
have been more witching, more charm
ingly colored, than the little form be
fore him. Every accessory of toilet had
been brought to bear upon the citadel
of his heart —and to a handsome woman
no dress is so hecoming as the negligee
of her boudoir, with its lace and fan
ta-tic embroidery, slippered feet and
graceful postures. Then the vases filled
with flowers, the mirrors, and jewels,
and perfumes, and enticing lolling
chairs, lleigho! many a strong man
has bowed to such ashrine—made a fool
of himself for life—when in the glare
and glitter of the drawing-room no such
nonsense would have been thought of.
Dr. John acknowledged the beauty of
this picture. It was dainty, piquant,
dangerous. It had been dished up for
him on several previous occasions, but
never so much to his mind as now.
The beauty’s manner was earnest, and
almost supplicating. What man could
fail to be appreciative under such cir
cumstances? Remember, too, that Dr.
John was longing to be loved—had that
very morning almost prayed that heaven
would send him a little bundle of com
fort in shape of a good wife, and it will
not be strange that, notwithstanding
the efforts previously made to entrap
him, he should think only of the pres
ent loveliness.
“What are you reading, Miss Es
telle?’’ asked Dr. .John, after a moment
of appreciative scrutiny. “Wilson’s
Essa\s, eh?” and the doctor’s face
showed all the surprise and pleasure felt
by its owner. “And upon my word, if
bre isn’t Emerson. That is healthy
food—rather heavy, though, I should
tli nk, for a sick girl!’’
Miss Estelle drew a long breath! For
the first time in the twelve months of
trial had she received one single word of
compliment or commendation from the
man whom her mother had determined
she should marry.
“ And, as true as I live, another book
under the pillow. Really, I have some
curiosity to know the title of that
volume also,” continued the doctor,
almost caressingly.
“Oh, it is nothing,” replied the would
be invalid, languidly, “ but a stupid
cookery-book that 1 got from the lib
. ary. Mother depends upon me, you
sec, for our desserts, and I can tell you
that sometimes my ingenuity is sorely
tested.”
One little hand tucked the volume
further under the pillow, while the
other, unconsciously, of course, dropped
upon the doctor’s. With the white,
jeweled lingers lying on his, the fair,
fizzling face upturned, the words which
-cu d have doomed him to misery all
ib* days of his life were almost spoken.
How wonderfully and providentially
little things sometimes appear to save
from desolation and death ! The hand
with which she bad striven to hide the
partially concealed volume had, strange
y enough, lifted the frill of the pillow
and d selosed both title and author—
•lie of the most misehievous and reck
• sly written books ever translated into
the English language.
For a moment the doctor sat silent
with horror and astonishment. Not so
much that the young woman before him
iiad developed a taste for such litera
ture, but that she could so unblushingly
lie to him.
“ 1 do not think,” said lie, at last,
* that you need any medicine. So you
aave my permission to study the cook
hook under your pillow as diligently as
you may feel disposed. It is pleasant
to know that fashionable young ladies
. re possessed of such domestic and
literary tastes. Good morning, Miss
Waters.”
Dr. John passed out of that abode of
luxury sick at heart.
“ I came very near losing myself in
that trap. What confounded luols men
are?”
Ihe thought was rather humiliating,
sind Dr. John was unable to shake it oil
during the day; and when he turned
bis horse’s head horn* ward it was with
; feeling of disgust and loneliness never
1 efore experienced.
“ Pretty much all alike, I’m afraid,”
be continued softly to himself.
.lust then a little figure in the middle
i I the street attracted his attention. A
< hild, to all appearance not a day over
five years, with uplifted arms, stood,
heedless of danger, looking straight into
i U face. Quicker than I can tell, I)r.
John had jumped from Ins carriage,
seized tlie little creature and placed her
on the seat beside him.
“ You were in great danger, my dear,”
said tlie doctor, looking down into the
singularly sweet and intelligent young
face. “ What made you stand in the
middle of the crowded street?’
“Are you a doctor ?” was the only re
| ply vouchsafed.
“By profession, yea* little mis*, and
An Independent Paper—Devoted to Literature. Minim:. Commercial, Agricultural, General and Local News.
FROST BURG, ALLEGANY COUNTY, MARYLAND, SATURDAY, APItTL 27,
by name John Hessman. Have you any
commands for his highness?”
“If you are a doctor, 1 want you to
go borne with me, and if you are not,
please tell me where I can find one.
My sister Kate is sick—awful sick—and
she talks and sings all the time; and I
haven't got any money—neither has
she; but she will die if somebody don’t
come.”
“ I am a doctor, and will go home
with you, little darling,” said our friend,
involuntarily drawing the sobbing child
toward him. “Don’t cry; 1 can help
her if anybody can
Before they arrived at the residence
of the sick girl, J r. John had discov
ered by skillful c lestioning, that the
child's name was Florence Britton —the
sisters, Kate Britton; that Kate wrote
stories, and made reports, and some
times had to he out late at night taking
notes and preparing articles for the
press; that she had not been well dur
ing the winter, and for the last three
weeks had been unable to attend to her
literary duties, and was now suffering
from brain fever. The room which the
doctor entered was plainly ami neatly
furnished, and bore unmistakable marks
of refinement ami womanly taste.
“Kate,” said tlie little girl, climbing
into the bed where her sister lay moan
ing with pain,—“sister Kate, I have
brought a doctor to see you. I found
him in the street, and he says he can
make you well. Look at him, Katie,
he is very kind.”
“Cuddle right down beside me, Flory
darling. There, that’s a good little girl.
Go to sleep, don’t mind sister Kate—
she’s only got a headache. Say your
prayers, Flory—say your prayers,” mur
mured the girl, even in her delirium
thoughtful of her precious charge.
Here was a case to rouse Dr. John’s
energies—a case which appealed to his
sympathy and respect—a case, so far
as he was able to judge, of utter loneli
ness and destitution. So, like the good
man he was, he set himself to work in
good earnest. A good nurse was pro
cured, necessary articles were brought
into the house, and over all he watched
as tenderly as if the sufferer had been
his own sister. Tlie fourth day Hie in
valid awoke to consciousness, and looked
at Dr. John straight in tlie face.
“ Where am 1 ?’’ said she, attempting
to rise.
“At home,” he replied. ‘‘Please be
quiet.”
“ Where is Flory?”
“Asleep by your side. Dm'! ask any
more questions.”
“Who are you?” she continued, ap
parently oblivious to the command.
“.John Hessman, at your service, and
at present your self-constituted physi
cian, who will be obeyed ! Now drink
this beef-tea—take Flory’s little hand
in yours, and go straight to sleep.”
With a sigh of relief, a smile, a mo
mentary attempt to keep her eyes open
a little longer, the invalid was sleeping
as quietly as an infant.
Four weeks from that day, Miss Kate
Britton rode out in the doctor’s car
riage, almost as well as ever.
Dr. John looked unutterable things
as he jumped into his gig and took his
seat beside her. Very like the day a
month ago, when lie had something
particular to say to himself—only now
he evidently had a communication to
make to another.
“It wiil be safe for me to resume my
writing to morrow; will it not, doctor?”
inquired Kate, the first to break tlie
silence. “1 feel letter and stronger
to-day than I have for a year.”
“No, little girl,” replied the doctor.
“It will not be safe for you to resume
your writing in six months!”
“Oh, doctor, you are only joking
now; I know you are,” said Kate, not
ing the look of amusement in his ex
pressive eyes.
“No, Kate, indeed I am not joking.
You shall never go back to that drudg
eiy if 1 can help it.”
fhe hot blood mounted clear to
Kite’s temples. “Dr Hessman,” she
continued, assuming a business-like
manner, “ but for you I should have
been in my grave!”
“In all piobability,” broke in her
companion, with more truth thin mod
esty.
“Well,” she continued, “you have
saved my life, kept my darling little
sifter from starvation —cared for us both
a*, tli .ugh we had been your own kin
dr d! But bow can 1 ever ”
“ There, child, stop right where you
are. Never, if you have any regard for
my feelings, allow that word to slip
Irom your lips. 1 want to take you and
Flory to my home, and make your hap
piness my care, hi short, K ite, I want
a wife ami a sister; will you be the
first? Perhaps you don’t love me ex
actly—but I know I can m ke you!’’
“ But Ido love you!” said Miss Kate,
under her breath.
“All right, then ! Will you go ?”
She went.
Dr. John scarcely ever talks to him
selt now.
Out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.
The New Orleans Republican of a late
date says: The firemen employed on
the steamship Havana, on the last voy
age of that vessel, undertook to smug
gle about 2 000 cigars into this port.
Before reaching here, and when per
haps a hundred miles out at sea, the
master of the vessel, Captain Penning
ton, discovered the cigars, and for the
double purpose of punishing the men
and saving the vessel from a fine on ac
count of the smuggled goods, compelled
the firemen to ca.*>t the cigars into the
furnaces of the steamer, and thus they
were destroyed. In tli is act Captain
Pennington’s zeal only further increased
his embarrassments and his liability,
and he has thereby become liable to a
fine of not less than SIOO nor more, than
$2,000, or imprisonment not less than
one month nor more than one year. If
he had brought the cigars into port, the
extent of his liability would have been
the confiscation of the cigars, and a tine
equal to their value; and if he had care
tully secured the property, and deliv
ered it to the authorities here, with a
leport of the facts, his vessel would have
escaped all responsibility.
Hazel Green, Grant county, Win , la
going iti'td the manufacture of nitro
glycerine
Clieops Revised.
Front the Hannan (111.) Citizen.
Some three or four weeks since we
published an article descriptive of the
Pyramid of Cheops, which contained, it
seems, numerous errors. We there
fore cheerfully give place to the follow
ing corrections by Mr. C. C. Pomery, of
this place, who his given the subject
years of careful thought and study, and
is consequently able to “ speak by the
card
In your paper I see a selection under
the heading “Cheops,” purporting to
come from “a friend” who had visited
the great pyramids of Egypt, in which
are manifest errors, which with your
permission I will correct. The great
Pyramid of Cheops, from authentic
measurements made by the Astronomer
Royal of Scotland, is 764 feet square,
covering thirteen acres of ground. This
is accepted among students of pyra
ni id ology as correct, while your in
formant says, “ Wading in the deep
sand fourteen hundred feet before we
had passed one of its side*.” Tlie cor
rect measure of the sides is enormous,
anti will in ages to come, as it has in
centuries past, afford a subject of pro
found study for all investigating minds,
.without doubling the true side of the
vast square of 764 feet, tapering with
scientific and mathematical accuracy
toward the sky, reaching the nltitue of
480 feet. It is believed that the “cap
stone” was thirty feet thick, which
would make tlie towering mass 510 feet
in height. Again, your informant is
in error when he says, “One layer of
brick was long since removed to Cairo
for building purposes.” The Pryamid
of Cheops is built of limestone, red
granite, marble from the Island of
Paros, and porphyry, but no brick. The
blocks of stone are often nine feet long
and from two to five feet thick. The
most accurate chronology assures us
that the great pyramid is 4.300 years
old—one thousand years older than
your friend makes it. It is true that it
was defaced by rude and barbaric
hands, by layers of this rock-founded
edifice being taken to Cairo for build
ing purposes; but for us, fortunately,
this vandalism has been stopped, and
science now has an eye upon the noble
structure, and may yet reveal to us its
long hidden mysteries and throw light
upon a period in the world's history
not found in our books.
Life’s Brightest Hour.
Not long since I met a gentleman who
is assessed for more than a million.
Silver was in bis hair, care upon bis
brow, and lie stooped beneath his bur
den of wealth. We were speaking of
that period of life when we had realized
t lie most perfect enjoyment, or rather,
when we had found the happiness ne.ii
est to be unalloyed. “I It tell you,”
said the millionaire, “when was tlie
happiest hour of my life. At the age of
one and twenty 1 had saved up eight
hundred dollars. I was earning five
hundred dollars a year, and my father
did not take it from me, only requiring
that 1 should pay for my board. At the
age of twenty-two I had secured a pret
ty cottage, just outside of the city. I
was able to pay two-thirds of the value
down, and also to furnish it respectably.
I was married on Sunday—a Sunday in
June —at my father’s house. My wife
had come to me poor in purse, but licit
in the wealth of her womanhood. The
Sabbath and the Sabbath night we passed
bt-neath my father’s roof, and on Mon
day morning I went to my work, leaving
my mother find sister to help in prepar
in x my home. On Monday evening,
when the labors of the day were done,
l went not to the paternal shelter, as in
the past, but to my own house —my
own home. The holy atmosphere of
that hour seems to surround me even
now in the memory. I opened thedoor
of my cottage and entered. I laid my
hat on the little stand in the hall, and
passed on to the kitchen our kitchen
and dining room were all one then. 1
pushed open tlie kitchen door and was
—in heaven! The table wasset against
the wall the evening meal was ready—
prepared by the hands of her who had
come to be my helpmeet indeed as well
as in name—and by tlie table, with a
throbbing, expectant look upon her
lovely and loving face, stood my wife.
1 tried to speak,and could not. I could
only clasp the waiting angel to my bo
som, thus showing to her the ecstatic
burden of my heart. The years have
passed long, long years and wealth
has flowed in upon me, and lam hon
ored ami envied ; but —as true as heav
en —1 would give it all every dollar—
:or the joy of the hour of that June
evening in the long, long ago! New
York hedger.
A Story With a Moral.
A farmer in Illinois had a neighbor
across the Wabash, in Indiana, who was
keeping a pauper on contract at his
house. In the corn hoeing season, the
Illinois man sometimes borrowed bis
neighbor’s pauper to help in the corn
field. It was very soon rumored about
that old Bill Turner had a pauper work
ing for him, and as none of the people
in the neighborhood had ever seen a
pauper, they were very anxious to get a
peep at him. Consequently some twenty
of them joined together one day, armed
with their shot-guns an 1 rifles, and
went over to Turner’s to seethe strange
creature. They got cautiously over the
f nee, and came up to where the men
were working.
“ Bill,” said Silas Brown, their spokes
man. “ we’ve heard that you’ve got a
pauper working for you, and we’d like
to see it.”
Bill thereupon pointed out the object
of their curiosity. The visitors walked
around the astonished pauper, and si
lently surveyed him from every point
of view. At last Silas spoke :
“ Look here, Bdl Turner,” said lie,
“you can’t fool us; that's a man!"
We wish all those in charge of char i
table institutions ha l the same idea
about paupers ill it Mias had.
The preliminary investigation in the
case ol <J 1. I>. L. Stanton, late Collector
of Internal Revenue for the Fifth Ma
ryland district, who is charged with
I embezzlement, has been commenced.
I Supervisor Fulton testified that an in-
I vestimation of his affairs made showed
I bout a>iy,sb* unaccounted fa I *-
Farm ami Garden.
About Fencing. —To grow an osage
orange fence*, soak the seed in hot water
over night and sow in drills for a nur
sery as soon as tin* ground can be pre
pared in the spring. The so l must be
well pulverized, the drills so far apart as
to uea cultivator, cover about one inch
deep and keep tin* plants clear of grass
and weeds. They are ready to set out
at one summer’s growth. When you
sow the seed commence to cultivate tin*
ground where the fence is to be. If
this i- not well done, the fence will be
a failure. Cultivate a width of five or
six feet—it should have several work
ings through the summer; the next
spring set out the plants by a line, take
uj• the plants *us you want them : cut
the tops off three or four inches above
tin* root. Be particular about this, that
you do not leave too mu h top. Cut
off, also, a part of the top roots, letting
them remain not over nine inches long.
Be sure that the ground has been
cultivated that deep. Set the plants
about six inches distant from each other.
Keep the plants clear of weeds, and
cultivate on each side of the fence. The
first winter after the leaves are ott‘, cut
oil* with a sharp instrument every
branch and top within six or eight
inches of the ground : the second winter
within tenor twelve inches; the third
winter within fifteen inches; and the
fourth summer will make a com pie e
fence. Be positive about the trimming
of the first, second and third years to
fill up the bottom. You can make top
any time; but you cannot fill up at the
bottom after the top is made, without
cutting down the whole fence to about
six inches.
Fencing at the present day is a large
item in keeping up the repairs of a
farm. When farming is brought to
batter perfection and the farmer better
protected by laws that will not compel
tarn, to fence against his neighbors'
stock, but on’iy for the protection,much
less fencing will be required. Why do
not farmers, where woodland is scarce,
plant acres of woods that will come into
profit in a few years by selling hoop
poles and other small timber? Because
ibout eight firms out of every ten are
for sale. 1 hey are not advertised, but
they aie for sale, notwithstanding. A
few acres *f young planted timbi r would
verv much help the sale of a f irm,can’t
you sen ?
In all the countries of Continental Eu
rope th° business of tree pi tilting has been
thoroughly systematized, all the land
not fit for cultivation is planted with
timber, and in this way the supply is
kipt up. We will have to do so in this
country soon, as timber will become
>carce in the older settled parts of the
country.
Making Corn without Hoeing. —A corre
spondent of the Rural New Yorker says :
A t ‘l* twenty years’ experience in the
c tliureof corn, I am prepared to say
t lit the hoe can he set aside as soon as
replanting and thinning is over. In
<> der to do this the land must be well
broken and piilwr’zed before the corn
is planted. i'he distance between rows
nhould be from live to six and a half
l*it, and from two t > three and a half
f ot in thedrill,according to productive
ih ss of land. The corn should be drop
ped, after going twice in tlie same fur
row, with an eight inch shovel. When
the corn is covered, it should be four
inches below the surface. The firs',
plowing, put just enough dirt to the
e. rn to liil the furrow half full; second
plowing, the furrow can he filled. This
leaves the corn level, and the ground
is not too high for you to dirt the corn
with plow the third or last time. Be
careful not to break or disturb the corn
roots the last two plowings. Corn
p anted and cultivated in this way will
st tiid a drought much better, and the
blades will not turn yellow, as they
always will do when the roots are
hi liken.
Liquid Excrement. — How strangely we
overlook the value of the liquid excre
ment of our animals! A cow, under
ordinary feeding, furnishes in a year
20 000 pounds of solid excrement, and
a1 >ul 8,000 pounds of liquid. The com
parative money value of the two is but
slightly in favor of the solid. This stale
incut has been verified as truth, over
and over again. The urine of herbivor
ous animals holds nearly all tin* secre
tions of the body which are capable of
producing the rich nitrogenous com
pounds so essential as forcing or leaf
forming agents in the growth of plants.
I’he eolid holds the phosphoric acid, the
lime and magnesia which goto the seeds
principally; but the liquid, holding
nitrogen, potash and soda, is needed in
forming the stalks and leaves. Tlie
two forms of plant nutriment should
never be separated or allowed to be
wasted by neglect. The farmer who
aves all tue urine of his animals doubles
his manorial resources every year. Good
seasoned p< at is of immense service to
iai liters, when used as an absorbent, and
the stalls for animals should be so con
. tructed as to admit oi a wide passage
in the rear with generous passage room
for peat, to be used daily with the ex
crement.
Council Bluffs Items.
Council Bluffs, lowa, April 4 —Quite
a nice town has sprung up around the
transfer gioumls of the Union Pacific
lailroad in this city. Railroad offices,
eating-houses,etc., have appeared in the
last lew days, and person-, owning lots in
tlie neighborhood are looking on them
.‘elves as fortunate. As toon as the
freight contracted for is transferie 1 by
boat across the river the two transfer
boats will seek other waters, the Col.
Nutt at Plattsmouth and the Geis at
Nebraska City. The old steam ferry
still maintains its course.
Two new daily papers are to be started
here in the next thirty days, in addition
t ) those already in operation. They
will be e.iled the Republican , and the
Bugle, D inoerat.
A new salt spring has just burst forth
on the crescent bottom a lew miles from
this city. There is talk of working it
up.
Nearly $lO 0 K) are subscribed of the
capital stock of a weigh-scales manu
factory at tli is place. Articles of incor
poration are filled.
I’he river is falling, but a second
| freshet is reported coming from the
1 mo**ntains and expected very soon
.87*2.
Manufacture of Stained Glass.
It is difficult to assign any sufficient
reason whv tin* art of making beautiful
windows should decline, yet certainly it
l is impossible to comnare the mediaeval
glass pictures with the modern without
feeling that the latter are inferior. The
modern glass-sfaining was carried to its
greatest perfection by tin* late Max
Emanuel Aiomuller, who died in De
cember, 1870. After the fall of Lola
Montez from power, the whole superin
tendenco of the works, in which he had
l.mg been a principal artist fell into bis
bands, and it is to him that the un
doubtedly beautiful glass illuminating
the cathedral and other churches at
Munich. Cologne, and Regensburg is to
be credited. His best work i* to be seen
in England—the “Opening of Parlia
ment by James II.,” made for St. P aul’s
in London, after a painting of Knul
baclt’s, being particularly fine. His
works in Cambridge University Church,
in Glasgow Cathedral, and Parliament
House (Edinburgh) are admirable. Yet,
in looking upon all these, one sees faults
that are not his, but those of his cen
tury—that D, the attempt is to make
ait more realistic than it can be, espe
cially on glass. On this transparent
sin face efforts at a perfect perspective
at once reveal their impossibility. The
more you put deep shades, to make
forms look solid, the more do you block
up and cumber a medium whose first
object is to be as transparent as is con
sistent with any medium at all. If
sta’ned glass is ever to recover its original
beauty, it mu-t he by pretending to la*
more than the merest surface of colored
spots. It must be simply decorative,
like the flowers on a bowl. It must not
attempt to picture solid and substantial
men and women perched in a window
where they would be quite unable to
climb. Several of Ainmuller's best
windows seem to have been animated
by a tendency in this direction, and are
proportionately finer than others. This
is especially so in the Glasgow. For the
rod, it must be admitted that, so far as
his colors are concerned, they have
never been surpassed in purity or in
tensity. He has well deserved that
statue, eleven feet high, made by Pit>f.
Halbig for his grave in Cimpo Santo.
They who sit in the light of so many
brilliant windows little know, perhaps,
how much labor goes to the making of
them. They are first designed, then
stained in bits; their colors are burned
in separately —first the blue, then the
red—and each requires three successive
heatings in the oven. They must then
he pieced into a whole, with leadings
connecting tin* pieces, then swung in a
large window-frame to he examined. If
any defect be discovered the parts must
be burned together. The scene in the
Glasmaleri is remarkable enough. Here
is a man engaged upon a martyr’s toes,
while in another room the eyes of the
saint ca t upon you their last look of
despair as they are shoved into a fur
nace heated sevenfold—-just as if Herr
Fortner, who now presides, I believe,
were another Diocletian. A week later
you will see the martyr, purified by bis
ordeal, smiling down a whole rainbow
upon the workmen in their shirt
sleeves in an apartment full of chalk,
old planks, coke, and all manner of
odds and ends. These fellows are no
respecters of persons, either. Gods and
saints, St. George’s dragon, and the
chamois destined for some nobleman’s
hunting box, are cast together into the
even, and shine together along the
walls.— By M. IK Conway , in Harper's
Magazine for April.
Gail Hamilton.
Mrs. Grundy writes from Washing
ton : Among our winter visitor* is Gail
Hamilton, who spends several months
it a time as the guest of her cousin, Mrs.
Blaine, wife of the Speaker of the
House. As is well known, the real
name of this clever writer is Abigail
Dodge. She is a native of Wen ham, a
small town about twenty miles from
Boston, hut her home is in Hamilton,
M ass. The abbreviation of her given
name and the name of the town in which
she lesides suggeste 1 her rwm de plume.
Miss Dodge entered the field of letters
while residing in Washington. She first
came here as a governess in the family
of Dr. Bailey, of tlie National Era. She
is remembered by tho*e who knew her
then as a shy, timid, sensitive little girl,
who could scarcely he induced to mix
at till in society. Struck by her bright
ness and originality, Dr. and Mrs. Bailey
vainly endeavored to induce her to see
their visitors and make acquaintances.
Piesontly the Era received sparkling
articles fiom an unknown writer, sign
ing “Gail Hamilton.” These were of
course published, and their authorship
never suspected by the Baileys, who dis
cussed before the shy little governess
the new contributions to the paper.
Alter some time Miss Dodge acknowl
edged heiself to be tin; writer, and was
gre itly encouraged by her kind friends.
She continued to write for the Era, and
when she published iter fiist book it
vas under the auspices of Dr. Bailey,
’y whom she was introduced to a pub
lisher. Miss Dodge, while she is not
handsome, is rendered attractive by her
pleasant manners and great vivacity in
conversation.
A Miraculous Story.
There has always been some specula
tion on the question whether a man’s
.-oul ever actually leaves his body dur
ing sleep, or at any other time before
doath } but evidence to solve this myste
i ious question is rare. There is a story
told in Louisville, however, of a mer
chant of that city, who, while traveling
on a sleeping car in Mississippi, had a
vivid experience as of visiting his home
and seeing his wife and children asleep,
and noticing that the eight-day family
clock had run down, he wound it up
and set it going. He then returned to
his berth, which was rattling along at
the rate of forty miles an hour in the
sleeping car, sjiw his own body distinct
ly, and resumed his place within the
well-fitting e#casement. On writing to
his wife about it, he learned that the
clock hod been mysteriously wound up
on the night of his spiritual imagina
tion.
Rev. Mr. Off, of Fond du Lac, acci
dentally poured a quantity of hot water
j Upon his child’s head, the other day,
' scalding it to death.
Editors and Proprietors.
NUMBER 31.
Current Items.
Fort Scott, Kansas, is to have a wool
! on mill.
Orpheus C. Kerr has gone into tho
commission business at Newark, N. .1.
Six of tho foreign diplomats at Wash
ington are married to American wives.
Seven artesian wells are now running
in tho town of Lura, Faribault county.
Minn.
A wind grist-mill, to cost $10,00'), is
to be erected at St. Charles, Minn., this
season.
The scavenger of Fort Wayne, who
is worth $50,000, lives on tho foo l which
he finds in slop-barrels.
The Japanese embassy has preserved
in a huge scrap book every obtainable
item published in regard to its mem
bers.
Fartraui.t county, Minn., has two
pensioners of 181*2 —both likely to draw
pay for their patriotic services for some
years to come.
A o we. of horse-thieves is operating
in the vicinity of Tiskilwa, 111., and a
vigilance committee has been organized
to exterminate them.
There are but two or three hundred
Indians left among the everglades of
Florida, and they kill themselves as fast
as possible with whisky.
A gentleman who recently left New
York for Havana, invested some thou
sands in Erie stock, and on Monday
telegraphed an order for its sale, at a
net profit of $25,000.
The Wells (Minn.) Atlas says that
Colonel Thompson’s steam plow will he
set at work plowing as soon as the frost
is out of the ground. It is believed
that it will prove successful.
A system of gong signals, operated
l>v telegraph, has been adopted at the
Keokuk (Iowa) bridge, by which the
latter can be cleared of teams at the
approach of railroad trains.
On Thursday afternoon, a diver
named George Seaman was suffocated
while working on a sunken steamer in
the North river, near New York, by the
bursting of the fresh air pipe.
Miss Loretta Mann, once renowned
in Kalanvizoo as a lightning compositor,
has graduated from tho leading medical
college in Philadelphia, and returned
to Michigan to practice her profession.
A doctor of medicine at Bath, Eng
land, has just had a legacy of $20,000
and a comfortable house left him by a
lady who was only known to him by
his once offering her a seat in -his car
:m old man, who was .very
h Iped across a crowded roef^B|j||^
youth of twenty. A month
the old man died, and as an
of gratitude, he left the youth S4O,
J. C. Owens, proprietor of tho Bran
son house, at St. Joseph, Mo., an old
and respected citizen, committed suicide
on Wednesday afternoon, by shooting
himself through the head with a pistol.
Financial embarrassment is the alleged
cause.
A petition has been presented to
Congress for the relief of the venerable
Joseph Rutheiford, of Macoupin coun
ty, 111., who was in the war of 1812,and
who furnished nine sons and four sons
in-law to the Union armies in the war
of the rebellion.
It is understood in railway circles that
Thomas A. Scott is the best-salaried
man in the United States. He is either
tho official head or executive officer of
several great corporations, and his ag
gregate pay from th -fc is said to amount
to $150,000 per annum.
Five years ago a gentleman bought a
few acres of land in East Cleveland,
just beyond the present city limits, pay
ing for it $7,000. A few days since ho
sold it for $70,000, and, in three hours
alter the sale had been consummated,
the purchasers disposed of it again for
SBO,OOO.
The head of a family in Omaha earns
SSO per month by his labor, two boys
earn $8 per week, and two girls earn $6
more. Two girls beg enough to support
the whole family and four boarders be
sides, thus leaving the money earned as
a fund to clothe them and pay for the
house and lot lately purchased.
About Having.
There is, perhaps, no one in this
world more to he pitied than the poor
rich man—the man who has got into
the habit of saving until he saves from
sheer delight in seeing his wealth in
crease. and of counting every dollar of
expenditure as though its loss was
something that could never be repaired.
Yet it is the duty of every poor man to
save something. The possession of a
few dollars often makes all the differ
ence between happiness and misery,
and no man, especially a man with
a family dependent upon him, can be
truly independent unless lie has a few
dollars reserved for the time of need.
While extreme carefulness as to the
expenditure of money will make a rich
man poor, a wi.-o economy will almost
as certainly make a poor man rich, or
at least make him to a considerable
extent independent of the caprices of
employers and of the common vicissi
tudes of life. Nothing is more impor
tant to the poor man than the habit of
saving something; his lit tie hoard will
soon begin to grow at a rate which will
urprise and gratify him. Every work
ingman ought to have an account in
,-ome saving 4 hank, and should add to
it every week during which he has full
i mployment, even if the addition is but
a dollar at a time. If he does this he
will soon find the dollars growing into
tens, and these tens into hundreds, and
hi a little time will he in the possession
of a sum which is constantly yielding
an addition to his income, which secures
him a reserve fund whenever one is
needed, and which will enable him to
do many things which, without a little
money, he would he powerless to do.
Valuable and Reliable. —“ Brown's
Bronchial 'J'roches" are invaluable to
those exposed Uf sudden changes, af
fording pronip* relief in Coughs, Colds*
etc. —(Coin-