New York dispatch. [volume], July 15, 1877, Page 6, Image 6

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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6
THE WIFE’S REVERIE.
O heart of mine, is our estate—
Our sweet estate—of joy assured ?
It came so slow, it came so late,
Bought by such bitter pains endured;
Dare we forget these sorrows sore.
And think that they will come no more ?
"With tearful eyes I scan my face,
And doubt how he can had it fair;
Wistful, I watch each charm and grace
I see that other women wear;
Of all the secrets of love’s lore,
I know but one, to love him more I
I see each day, he grows more wise.
His life is broader far than mine;
-I must be lacking in his eyes,
In many things where others shine.
O, heart 1 c-au we this loss restore
To him, by simply loving more ?
I often see upon his brow,
A look hall tender and half stern;
His thoughts are far away, I know;
To fathom them I vainly yearn;
But nought is ours which went before;
O, heart ! we can but love him more 1
I sometimes think that he had loved
An older, deeper love, apart
From this which later, feebler moved
His soul to mine. O, heart 1 O, heart!
What can we do ? This hurteth sore.
Nothing, my heart, but love him more I
THE W IM’S SEW.
by c. f. g.
It was a wild sky, but wilder yet was the face
of old Richard Duncroft, as he paced to and fro
in front of his great, rambling, half-ruined
farm-house. His pale, thin cheek burned as if
with a plagne-spot; his features worked con
vulsively ; his keen gray eyes flashed with a
strange fire. „
“Do come in out of the.storm, grandfather,
murmured a sweet, low voice, and a young and
beautiful girl came to his side, and tossing back
a wealth of rich- curls, looked beseechingly up
at his troubled countenance.
“No, no!” growled the restless old man ; “I
■ can’t sit moping over the fire the whole even
ing. Get into the house, Jessie Gray, and don’t
disturb me again.”
Thus repulsed, the girl stole silently back to
the dwelling, and Duncroft resumed his hasty
walk.
“Richard, my husband,” said his wife, bro
kenly, “ don’t leave me alone in my old age. I
know not what evil genius has taken possession
of you, but I must beg you to go no more on
these strange errands. Oh, Richard 1 if you
have any pleasant memories of the old times,
you will not break my poor heart.”
The hand which bad been given to him at the
■ altar trembled on bis arm, but he shook it off
with a rude gesture.
“What meddlers women are!” he muttered
between his teeth. “ Rachel, not another word
of this nonense. I’ll not have my footsteps
dogged like a school-boy’s. I’ll havo you un
derstand that I shall come and go as my will
dictates.”
The injured wife shrank sobbing away, and
scarcely had the door closed after her ere
a triumphant laugh rang out on the fierce
blast, and a third female figure confronted
the old man.
“ Richard Duncroft,” she said, hoarsely, and
her long, bony fingers tightened around his,
“ you have had your day—my hour has come
now 1”
“Meg Marston!” were the only words that
dropped from Duncroft’s lips.
“Yes, Meg Marston,” she returned, “Meg
Reed once! Old man, when you and I were
voung, I loved you—ay, madly loved! For a
time you seemed to like me, but by-and-by you
turned from what you used to call my gipsyish
beauty to that pale, blue-eyed woman whom
you have just sent from you in a passion of
tears. I wrestled with my disappointment. I
grew sullen at first, then reckless. I have
hated both you and your wife for years ! Is it
strange that every grief of here now is sweet
to mo ?”
Sho paused, and with n mocking smile Dun
croft retorted. “But what is that to me, since
you are powerless to avenge yourself?”
“Powerless! We shall see, Richard Dun
croft.” And as she "spoke, she drew up her
Blight figure, and stood erect befor him—her
thin lips rigid with determination, her dark,
basilisk eyes burning with a fiercer light, her
tangled gray hair floating about a face stormy
with conflicting passions. “Men,” she con
tinued, with bitter emphasis, “say a fearful
shadow has fallen on Dick Duncroft’s life; and
even they of his own household have learned to
tremble at his approach. Night after night ho
goes on a mysterious mission; that mission is
the causa of the change which has come over
him—Duncroft. I know the oid man’s secret.”
And bending down sho whispered a few words
in his ear.
Richard Duncroft started. His frame shook
from bead to foot, every trace of color left his
face, and though his bps parted nervously, he
could not speak.
“This blow strikes home, does it?” said the
woman tauntingly. “You didn’t dream that
anybody knew; you thought yourself secure.
But you are in tlio power of one whose tender
mercies are cruelties; in the course of two hours
the rightful representative shall know your
guilt.”
She gathered her red cloak around her, drew
on her close hood, and was turning away when
Duncroft sprang forward.
“Stay, stay, Meg Marston, stay!” he gasped.
“ If you leave me in this mood I am a lost man.
The woman stopped, but her sole answer was a
savage laugh. “ Can nothing be done to induce
you to keep my secret?” he asked. “I h..ve
gold enough—name your price, and I will pay
it.”
Meg Marston shook her head.
“Price?” she echoed. “It is hard to set a
price on such knowledge as mine. Beside, I am
rich—and do.not want your goid. Do you think
you can offer me anything that will bribe me to
hold my tongue ?”
Duncroft looked at her hard face, and a long
Shudder crept over him, while Meg again made
movement to go.
“Stop!’.’ he. cried; “before you and I part we
must come to terms. Detection—imprisonmen t
—trial—l can’t. meet them. Speak out, Meg
Marston. What shall I give you. to consent to
silence ?”
The woman hesitated; then, as if a sudden
thought had struck her, she rejoined:
“You have a glanddaughter, an inmate of
your household. She’s young, and beautiful,
and romantic, and don’t fancy my son; but,
Richard Duncroft, if you would conciliate me,
give Jessie Gray to him.”
“ What 1 to Paul Marston, the pest of the
land ?”
“The same,” was the cool reply.
“He's old enough to be her father,” said Dun
croft. “ She despises him, and so does every
body else. Oh, Meg, lam not totally lost to a
sense of justice—l can’t bid my fair, pure Jessie
: marry your villainous son.”
“Very well,” said she. “It matters not to
me. Good night; we shall not meet again till
1 stand up as your accuser.”
A bitter groan broke from the old man’s lips.
“Is there no other door to your heart, Meg ?”
he faltered.
“None,” she replied; and nowagrim smile
flickered over her features. “They were all
shut to you forty years ago.”
“But I love the girl,” said Duncroft. “Sho
Is an orphan; my dead Marion’s only child—
her last legacy to me. She would rise from
the grave to Haunt me if I should do such a
wrong?”
“I cannot help.it,” she replied; “I am inex
orable. The bride for my son, or the revela
tion of the old man’s secret —what say you ?”
“Meg Marston, you almost drive me mad,”
cried Duncroft, wildly smiting his forehead;
“ I cannot think clearly in your presence. Give
me some time to reflect.”
“Be it as you wish,” said she. “At eleven
o’clock yon usually leave the farm-house fox the
valley below. Meet me there.”
“I will,” replied Duncroft.
The strange woman glided away, and again
Richard Duncroft was alone with his own
thoughts. The storm stillraged; the rain beat
down in torrents, the wind swept in fitful gusts,
and heavy clouds surged across the sky, like
the billows of an unknown sea, drifting on and
on to the “night’s Plutonion shore.” For a
while Duncroft did .not seem to heed the tem
pest, but at fength when a large tree close by,
came crashing to the earth, he started, gazed
half-bewildered.around him, and then went into
the house.
There had been a time when the family sit
ting-room at Duncroft Farm was a cheer tut
place, but now it was very dismal there. The
shadow which had settled on tho old man’s
heart had fallen on his home. The fire burned
low on tho hearth-stone, and two silent figures
sat in the pale light—ouo was his wife, tho
other his grandchild. Both looked wistfully at
him, as he sank into his high-backed chair, but
neither dared speak. By-and-by, however, the
girl rose to stir the dying embers, and stealing
.toward him, crept to her old place at his feet.
Ah! what an hour was that for Richard Dun
croft. He marked the faultless contour of her
face and figure, the rich ripples of her. shining,
hair, the graceful bend of her white
neck, tho flexible sweetness of the small, deli
.cately-chiseled mouth, tho mournful, yet ten
der light of the soft blue eyes, through which
the eyes of the dead Marion seemed gazing at
him in stern reproach ; and the conflict between
good and evil grew strong within him. Should
he doom that girl in the Spring of her youth,
with all the generous impulses of her nature
should ho doom her to marry Paul Marston, the
terror of the neighborhood ? While Dubcroft
sat thus, absorbed in his painful reverie, a
quick, firm step sounded on the walk outside,
and .then came a knock at the door. Jessie
hurried to open it, and her grandfather heard
her say in.a lone of sweet surprise :
“Why, Arthur! What can have brought you
■hero in this pouring rain ?”
“I wdl tell you,” replied the new comer, in a
deep musical voice; “I could not sleep till I
Rad seen you. I watched you at church yester
day, and it seemed to me as if you had grown
thin and pale sie.ee our last meeting. Are you
ill, Jessie ?”
“ No,” murmured the girl.
“ But you aro unhappy. Am I in any way
connected with your sorrow ?”
“ Oh, no, Arthur 1 You are all that is good,
and noble, and true.”
“Thank Heaven that you think so! I would
rather die than give your young heart a single
fang,” _ There was a moment’s silence ere Ar
«ur Milnot added; “It you Uavo a uow grief.
Jessie, I am sure you will not hesitate to speak
of it to me.”
“ I have not,” she replied.
“ Then it must be you are still anxious about
your grandfather ”
“Hush!” interposed tho girl; “he is in the
room——”
Tho old man heard no more, and soon after
ward the door was closed, and Jessie came back
with a soft flush on her cheek, and the smile
with which she had listened to Arthur Milnot’s
parting words yet hovering about her lips. But
her presence, and that of his wretched wife,
only made the warfare in his soul more terrible ;
and with a gruff command he sent them away.
# * * * * *
Timo wore wearily on, and at last Richard
Duncroft was aroused from his troubled mu
sings by the striking of tho old clock. It was
■eleven—a decisive hour in his destiny. Meg
Marston was awaiting him at the trysting
place—what would his answer be? A skilful
physiognomist would have told from the reso
lute expression of his face as he buttoned his
■coat, and went hastily out. While he had been
in the house the thick clouds had Darted here
and there, and through their rifts the moon
shed a ghastly glimmer over the well-trodden
path to the vabey. In a few moments he had
reached tho valley, and but little beyond the
point at which he entered stood Meg, stern as
over, and as repulsive as those weird women
whom Macbeth met on the lonesome heath.
“So, you’re come,” said she, as he drew near.
“ Well, what will you do ?”
“I have loved Jessie fondly,” replied Dun
croft; “but I have begun a dangerous game.
I must play it out, though a legion of fiends
stand at my heels. I can never consent to have
this secret blazoned to the world. Your Paul,
villain as he is, shall wed tho girl.”
"Agreed—there’s my hand on it,” said Meg,
and her hard, brown hand fastened upon his in
a vice-like grasp.
“ You promise solemnly not to betray me,”
added Duncroft.
“ I promise,” she replied. “ I’ll be dumb
with regard to your secret. And yon will let
Jessie Gray know at once for whom she is des
tined ?”
“ Most assuredly,” he replied.
Thus they parted—Meg Marston to seek her
home, and Richard Duncroft to recommence his
mysterious work. It is was in the dull, gray
dawn that ho reached his house; but, early as
it was, Jessie was up, and preparing his break
fast. It was evident that she had not slept at
all, for her face looked haggard in tho morning
light, and her eyes were red and heavy. But
his purpose did not falter.
“Jessie,” said he, sternly, “Arthur Mlinot
was here last night—why does he come to see
you so.often ?”
The rich blood mounted even to the girl’s pale
brow, but she was silent.
“He professes to love you, don’t he?” con
tinued her grandfather.
“ He does,” she replied.
“And you fancy you love him, I suppose,
from your blushes.”
“ I love him with all my heart,” was the
straightforward reply.
“And perhaps you havo hoped some day to
be his wife,” added the old man.
“Yes, grandfather, we are already betrothed,
and Arthur will be over to-night to beg your
sanction.”
“Girl, hear me,” rejoined Richard Duncroft,
bringing his clenched fist down on the table to
enforce his words ; “ you shall never marry that
young Milnot—never. I have another match
tor you. There is one who has long loved you
and sought to win you, Jessie Gray—you shall
be his wife before you are three months older.”
“And who is he?” faltered the girl.
“Aman who need not depend on his daily
toil to keep you from starving—Paul Marston.”
Poor Jessie lifted her blue eyes to his with a
gaze that would have melted a heart that had
not grown hard In sin.
“God help mel” she gasped, and staggering
back, she leaned against the dark oaken wain
scot, trembling in every limb. “PaulMarston,”
she continued, “a villain who would havo been
transported ere this, if by his craft he had not
eluded the eye of the law. Oh, grandfather, you
will not bind me to him for life 1 You will not
doom me to a living death I”
“My resolution is taken,” be replied. “It
will do no good to whimper and fret; submis
sion is the only way for you. Prepare to receive
Paul Marston as your accepted lover.”
For a time there was profound silence within
the low kitchen, but outside the wind broke into
a sob, and the old pear tree which swept ever
the quaint, diamond-shaped panes, writhed as
if a tortured human heart were throbbing at its
roots. Then the girl flung herself at Richard
Duncroft’s feet, and poured forth a wild appeal,
which would have deeply moved him in his bet
ter days, but through it all he stood there un
bending as a statue. The Rubicon of his fate
had been crossed when he met Meg Marston in
the valley, and now be was strong in his evil
resolves.
“Jessie, you would make a good actress,” he
said in a tone of cutting irony, when she paused
in her passionate plea ; “ such a scene as that
just enacted would win you fame and fortune
on the stage, but it is quite lost on me. Again
I say you shall be Paul Marston’s wife, and that
too, at any time he may pleaso to claim you.”
■With these words he left her, slamming the
door after him in his rage. Half an hour later,
when Jessie’s grandmother came in, she found
her sitting by the hearth, liko one turned into
stone ; but Rachel Duncroft’s soft touch on her
forehead, and her gentle voice, awakened Jessie
from her strange lethargy, and bursting into
tears, she sobbed out the story of her last
trial.
That night, just as the candles were lighted
in the large old common room at Duncroft
Farm, there was a loud rap at tho front door.
Tho old man answered the summons, and the
next moment ushered in . Paul Marston. He
was a short, thickset man, with a bold, black
eye, a sinister and thickkv-bearded lip, and a
swaggering air. Villain was stamped as plainly
on every feature as though it had been written
there with tho point of a diamond, and it was
no wonder that Jessie Gray shrank into a win
dow recess as be approached.
“ ’Tis Jessie I’ve come to see,” ho began, with
a knowing look at Duncroft; “Jessie, you
know—not you, nor her grandmother.”
“ She was in the room when 1 went to the
door.” replied his host. “I will call her.”
“Oh, there she is!” cried Marston, whose
keen glance, after roving around, had spied tho
slight figure which had crept into the shadows;
and he sauntered to her side. • “ Good evening,
Jessie,” he said, familiarly ; “ I suppose I need
not trouble myself to put on the Miss now,
as things have gone so far. No doubt you know
why I have come here to-night:.”
“ Yes,” replied Jessie, “and I have told my
grandfather how utterly repulsive the idea of
such a marriage is to me. He knows my whole
being rebels, but he is obdurate ; so I must try
an appeal to you. Mr. Marston, would you
drag to the altar a bride, who went there like a
victim to the sacrifice ?”
"PU tell ye what, Jessie Gray;” said Paul
Marston, bursting into a coarse laugh, “all
these fine speeches are wasted on me ; they’d
do better for . Arthur Milnot. But one thing
is certain, I shall not give up my
promised wife—no, no!” and by the expression
of his countenance, poor Jessie knew
that he cared not to win a willing
bride—that he deemed it more of a triumph to
carry off, in spite of herself, a girl who had
thrice refused him. “ You needn’t look so grim
about it,” ho continued; “you won’t have a bad
bargain after all. lam going to fit up my old
house in a style.that will make the folks stare.
Even the squire’s shall not excel.it, and you
will be as grand as any lady. And now for the
wedding day. It.is customary for tho bride to
settle that, so I leave it to you. Name it, and
put a man out of suspense,” and the sordid
wretch, who coveted the grandfather’s riches
more than the gentle girl’s love, seized her
hand.
“Nover!” said Jessie, as she tore.her hand
away with a firmness which for a moment as
tonished him.
“ Aba 1 I like your spirit, little girl,” he said,
laughingly. “ Well, as you won’t fix the day, I
wifi. Let me see—how long will it take to get
ready? If we make haste, all the preparations
can be settled in six weeks. Ybs, that will do—-
six weeks from to-night, then, Miss Jessie Gray
sLAII be transformed into Mrs. Paul Marston.”
Jessie made no answer, and after several at
tempts to arouse her to some Blight degree of
animation, he left her.
Hours afterward, when she had gone to her
own little chamber, the servant brought her a
note which ran thus:’
“ Deabest Jessie : A terrible rumor has
reached me, but I cannot believe it until I
have the confirmation from your own lips.
Come out to the stile where we have sometimes
met—there I shall wait for you in the wild hope
that you can set my heart ,at rest. Abthuk."
Tears sprang to Jessie’s blue eyes as she read
this, and hurrying on her shawl and hat, sho
stole softly down the staircase and glided
through a door which had been carelessly left
open. Sue had crossed the garden, when a
heavy hand fell upon her shouldei, and her
grandfather cried, sneeringly:
“Going to meet that young Mlinot, weren’t
ye? Well, well, I’ve outwitted ye both. I saw
him lurking about, and kept watch. Jessie
Gray, your interviews with him are at an end.”
Rudely he hurried bor back to the house, and
thrusting her into her own chamber, locked the
door upon her, while Arthur Milnot, after look
ing long and vainly for Jessie, strode homeward
with a heavy heart.
r k i »
Six weeks had elapsed since the events which
have just been narrated, yet they had brought
little nut gloom to the oid house at Duncroft
t’arm. Richard Duncroft was yet wrapped in
the mystery which had enshrouded him for the
last three months ; every night ho went out on
bis strange mission, esrery passing day found
him paler, thinner, and fiercer in his mood. It
was apparent enough that the old man’s secret,
like the vulture of the Caucasus, was eating
away his heart. His’ poor wife looked wan and
wasted, and Jessie, once the light and joy of the
household’, camo and went, pale and listless. A
strict watch was kept upon her movements,
and so sho had not seen Arthur Mdmot;
but once ho had managed to convey her a brief
note, which shed some balm on her wounded
spirit.
“Jessie," he wrote, “I waited for you till
midnight by tho stile that loads to .tho rye-field,
and for the first time since you learned to love
me, waited in vain. Ido not believe you stood
aloof from your own choice. I cannot donbt
you. The thought of seeing you the wife of
Paul Marston is madness. I must save you
from such a fate. Take courage, dearest; a
brighter day will vet dawn for us. Meanwhile
Ajthur Hi'.not will be eu th? alert”
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JULY 15, 1877.
This assurance threw a transient gleam of
light across the girl’s path ; but the next news
with regard to her gallant lover sent a chili
through every vein—ho had been shot at by
some unknown foe while riding through a lonely
wood, and been carried to a woodman’s hut by
a wayfarer who chanced to be near ; there he
still lay in a high fever, and delirious. When
Jessie heard that, her iast hope fled, and she
moved about like an automaton.
It was on a sultry September day that sho
was riding along one of the most romantic of
the sequestered roads. Fleecy clouds sailed
like white swans over the sky; some of the
trees were already beginning to grow gay with
Autumnal tints; the wavside was all aflame with
golden and scarlet blossoms, and tho merry
songs ot the laborers, who were gathering in
the rich harvest, rang out on every hand. But
scenes which had once charmed the young girl
now brought no lustre to her eye, no bloom to
•her cheek. It mattered not to her that she was
seated in a carriage drawn by a pair of horses.
Beside her sat Paul Marston, and she was re
turning from a visit she had been compelled to
make—a visit to the home destined for her.
Marston’s dwelling had been converted into a
mansion, and the rooms were crammed with
costly furniture, jumbled together and ill-as
sorted, it is true, but all indicative of the world
ly wealth of its owner, and of his dominant pas
sion, a vulgar love of show. Poor Jessie’s sim
ple taste, both in the choice of her husband and
her home, had been outraged. To her it was
only a prison-house, and more and more deeply
she loathed it, and the idea of a life there with
Paul Marston. Twilight was coming on ere she
reached Duncroft Farm.
“ To-morrow,.Jessie,” said her betrothed hus
band, as he lifted her from the carriage, “I shall
take you for better or worse. Only one dav
more, and the bride I have so long coveted will
be mine,” and bonding down, he kissed her in
his rough, boorish fashion.
Jessie shrank from tho touch of his lips, and
with a hasty “good evening,” hurried to her
room. Just as she entered it, she heard Mar
ston’s carriage wheels rumbling down the
steep road to the valley. Her bridal dress, rich
as satin and lace could make it, lay on a chair,
but to her excited fancy it seemed to take the
shape of a shroud. She flung herself down on
the bod, and buried her face in the soft pillow,
to shut out the hated paraphernalia, but she
could not sleep. Hour after hour dragged by,
and still sho lay wakeful and anxious. It was
midnight when she heard a hurried tap at her
door. Sho flew to open it. Aman stood there,
a neighbor; and it needed only one glance at
his haggard face to tell that he had some start
ling disclosure to make.
“Miss Jessie,” said he, “I dared not speak
to the old lady first ”
“My grandfather—has anything happened to
him ?” gasped the girl.
“ Yes,” replied the man; “come down into the
valley as quick as you can.”
It was the work of a moment for Jessie to
fold a shawl around her, and descend the stairs;
the next she was in the open air, following the
neighbor as fast as her feet could carry her.
“Prepare yourself for the worst,” said her
companion, as they hurried down the path;
“there has been dreadful work in the valley.”
In less than half an hour they reached the old
riven tree, under which Meg Marston and Dun
croft had met weeks before. To the latest day
of her life Jessie Gray never forgot that scene.
A lantern cast a flickering light over a broken
spade, and a small excavation in tho earth, and
an iron casket. Close by lay Richard Duncroft,
the blood welling in a crimson torrent from a
gash in his forehead. For an instant Jessie’s
sight grew dim, and she seemed sinking to tho
ground, but then she rallied her almost ex
hausted energies.
“Take him home,” she faltered, and while
her companion and a friend he had called to the
spot beiofe leaving it, made preparations to
bear him back to the place he had so darkened
of late with his stern presence, Jessie hurried
on to break the tidings to her grandmother.
Two hours later, and Richard Duncroft lay bol
stered up in bed in his own chamber. His aged
wife sat near him, and Jessie bent over her
grandfather with tenderest ministrations, while
the doctor and other attendants gathered
around. Then the old man’s secret was re
vealed.
“Rachel and Jessie,” he said, with solemn
earnestness, “I’ve been a curse to you for three
months past. Listen, and I’ll tell you why.
You remember the eccentric little man who has
lived in the valley two or three years. He was
known as a miser, but none would have dream
ed that he was rich. I, however, gained, the
knowledge. One dark night, as 1 was crossing
the fields, I saw him bury a heavy iron casket,
and heard him say, with a short laugh, ‘Here
my gold is safe—-this bank won’t break.’ The
next day he left once more to amass gold at the
diggings, and then a temptation arose within
me to make myself possessor of hrs treasure.
I yielded, and from that hour I was a miserable
man. Every night I went out to dig, and when
I had disinterred the casket I dug a new grave
for it. Meg Marston became aware of my se
cret, and to bribe her to silence I consented to
give my poor Jessie to her son. Last evening,
when he came to bring you home, Jessie, I was
not here, but I met him in the valley. He de
clared that I should give him half of the gold 1
had found or have my secret made known, and
at length he grasped me by the throat, to take
by force the whole, and we both fell heavily on
the ground, my forehead coming into contact
with the casket. What became of Paul, I know
not; but his conduct has dissolved our bond,
and you are free. Forgive me for the wrong I
have done you both—Heaven forgive me too.
Rachel, my wife ’’
His breath came in short and sudden gasps,
the blood-shot eyes closed—poor old Richard
Duncroft was dead.
Paul Marston never dared return; but after
Arthur Milnot had recovered from his illness,
•he and Jessie were married in the rustic church,
and wnen a year later the Australian came back
to the neighborhood, Jessie restored the iron
casket, and tearfully told him “The Old Man’s
Secret.”
A LUCKY FIND.
THE ROMANCE OF AN OLD BU
Russia has been caustically defined as “ a
country with its upper class gone, its lower
class not yet come, and no middle class at all,”
and it is undoubtedly true that the commercial
and manufacturing interests of tho empire are
still very inadequately represented. At the
time ot the emancipation of 1861 there were in
Russia proper, out of a population of 55,000,000
only 4,000,000 burgesses and substantial trades
men, a large proportion ot whom were utterly un
educated ; many, indeed, had actually been serfs
themselves, and owed their advancement en
tirely to their own industry and native shrewd
ness. If unwearied courage and perseverance
consitute a title to honor, the famous Nazaroff
now the fashionable confectioner of St. Peters
burg, ought to stand very high on the role of
“ self-made men,” as also the brothers Sapojni
koff, of Astrakhan, who nowio sn, as millhon
aires, the office whoso floors they swept fifty
years ago. But it must be owned that the bulk
of this class are very “ rougn diamonds,” in
deed. The Russsian merchant, as he appears
on the stage and in popular novels, unkempt,
unwashed, redolent of bad brandy and worse
tobacco, garnishing his conversation at every
turn with coarse oaths, and jokes coarser still,
is merely a humorous exaggeration of the real
individual, who changes his shirt once a month,
drinks tea by the gallon, and eats salted cu
cumbers ny the bushel, combs his hair with his
fingers, and greets every acquaintance with a
stentorian shout of “ Well, you son of a doggl
how the devil are you to-day? I’m infernally
glad to see you 1”
Rough and uncultivated as the majority of
this class are, however, they yield to no man
living in their aptitude for business, and not
infrequently accumulate enormous fortunes.
One of the richest tradesmen in St. Petersourg
at the present time was a serf before the eman
cipation, and owes his wealth entirely to his own
industry. In one or two cases, however, the
altered fortunes of tho Russian traders have had
a much more romantic history, and one such
instance, which occurred while I was in Russia,
is well worth quoting in the words of the hero
himself :
“ When my old uncle, Nikolai Osipoff (may the
kingdom ot heaven be his,) came to die, we ex
pected that he would leave us something hand
some, for I had always been a favorite with
him ; but all that he gave us was his oldcarved
oak bureau, telling mo that ‘ there was more in
it than there seemed to be.’ However, that
wasn’t the case, for we found just nothing in it
at all ; so we made sure that the old man must
have been wandering, and thought no more
about it.
“At that time I used to keep a little shop
down at the far end of the Gorokhovaga (one of
the three main thorough fares of St. Petersburg) :
and although I didn’t get very fat upon what I
made, yet still there was enough to buy bread
and salt, as rhe saying is. But when the bad
times came in the year ’66, and everybody was
short of money, I began to run short too : and
short got to shorter, and shorter still, till at
last I hardly knew which way to turn. How
ever, as the proverb says, ‘ Crying won’t mend
a broken leg,’ so I just set my teeth and work
ed on. But I can tell you that sometimes,
when the children came about me at night, and
asked why 1 never brought them any pretty
things now, as I used to do, it was as bad as if
somebody bad beaten me.
“ Well, at last it came to this of it, that either
we must sell off our things for what they would
fetch, or else go to the wall altogether ; so the
day for the sale was fixed, and the announce
ment sent out. And then, the night before it
was to coma off, after the children had been put
to bed (our little Sergi was ill just then, and
hadn’t slept for three nights together), my wife
and I were sitting among the old furniture,
that would be scattered all over the town to
morrow—holding each other’s hands without
saying a word—when all at once there came a
knock at the door.
“ I went to open, and there was the police in
spector of the quarter, as kind a man as ever
lived, and an old friend of mine; and in he
came and shook us by the band quite heartily.
“ ‘ Cheer up, Stepka, my lad/ says he: ‘to
live a life-time is not like crossing a field, you
know. Perhaps the luck will turn yet; every
man must have hia ups and downs.’
“ ‘That’s true enough/ says I; ‘ but I’m sor
ry to part with the old things, for all that,
llowever, & man must have money to live upon;
it’s true enough what the proverb says, “Mon
ey is not God, but it shows great mercy.” ’
“ ‘Weil, anyhow, I’ll do what I can for you/
he, ciappieg me oq th© shoulder, £ i’ye
told some of my friends about it, and they’ll all
be here to-morrow, and give you a good price
for what they buy. There’s that old bureau,
now, in the corner yonder—that ought to fetch
something handsome. I suppose it’s all solid
oak ?’
“And he went over to the corner where Un
cle Nikolai’s bureau was standing, and began
tapping it, and trying the grain of the wood
with his thumb-nail, and what not—when all at
once he started, put his head down as if to list
en, and then cried out, quite quick and excited
like:
“ ‘ Bring the light here, Stepka, quick ! This
bureau of yours has a secret drawer somewhere
about it, or I’m much mistaken.’
“Then I remembered what uncle had said
about it on his death-bed, and ran forward witn
the candle, quite as much excited as himself.
But look as we might, we could find nothing,
till at last the inspector happened to press his
finger against a little iron prong, just like a
rusty nail, which stuck out from one of the cor
ners. In a moment the whole top flew back,
and there was a deep hollow full of bank notes,
to the tune of at least 30,000 roubles ($23,000).
“Well you may think what away we were in,
and how we thanked the inspector; but he—God
bless him—wouldn’t touch a kopeck of tho find,
saying that it was quite enough for him to see
us saved out of all our troubles. And after that
—just as if there were a blessing upon the
money—everything went well with me, and I
made my fortune in just no time at all. And as
for the old bureau, fvo got it now, and I’ll nev
er part with it as long as I live.”(
MERRY TRIFLES.
PLEASANT SUMMER READING.
(From the Burlington Hawk-Eye.)
Some philosopher remarks: “ Laughter
lenghtens life.” Yes, and the mouth too.
The various city directories have been
of incalculable aid to the colleges in the labor
of conferring degrees.
“ The worm will turn when trod upon.”
Yes, he generally turns the stomach of the man
who treads on him.
At a Turkish dinner, travelers tell us,
you will find no table-cloth on the table. Well,
that isn’t so bad. At some American dinners
you’ll find hardly anything else.
It is said that the nutmeg-tree bears
fruit from ten to one hundred years old. That
must be the tree the boarding-house keepers
pick their Spring chickens from.
We suppose that when the entire Rus
sian army went marching over the pontoon
bridges it didn’t make one-half the clattering
that a ten-yoar old boy does when he walks
down one flight of stairs.
We understand that every night before
he retires, General Grant sits on top of the Tow
er and washes his feet in the English channel.
This is grand. This is sublime. Perf. mag.
Too splen. to be poss.
When a visitor enters the sanctum, it is
better than a whole sermon on human nature to
see the editor, ■with a beautiful air of uncon
sciousness, slip all the lead pencils into a draw
er, and put tho pen-knife into his pocket.
Currant pie is in season, and when a
man with false teeth gets about thirty-nine
seeds between the plate and the roof of his
mouth, he begins to think he is chewing on a
vagrant nutmeg grater that has got mixed in
with his pastry.
If any citizen of the United States has
been overlooked this year in the conferring of
degrees by the several colleges, he can have the
omission made good by sending his address
to the Hawk-Eye, and stating what degree he
would like.
It takes, according to a scientific jour
nal, four thousand bumblebees to weigh a
pound; but you stop a bumblebee sometime
when he is right busy, and pick him up and heft
him, and you will raise your hand to heaven and
swear he weighs a ton/
A Cairo editor recently went on a moon
light excursion, and wrote in his paper that
“ the silvery rays of the harvest moon fell in a
glimmering sheen iike the broken threads of a
fairy dream.” It does look that way to some
men. In others, it takes the form of fiery un
tamed snakes.
Why is it that none of the cuts of the
“magnificent dining cars ” on the great railway
lines represent a man pouring a cup of hot cof
fee down bis shirt front, while the lady oppo
site him pours a pint of milk into her neigh
bor’s lap? The artists appear to miss all the
thrilling incidents.
Turkish mothers now put their babies
to sleep by singing that tender little song ;
I’ve a letter from the Czar,
Baby mine, baby mine,
And he says he’ll lift our ha’r,
Baby mine, baby mine.
He has crossed the Dan-u-be,
He is coming after me,
And we’ll see what we shall see,
Baby mine.
Yesterday morning the police arrested
a strange-looking man, who walked in from the
Agency road, as a vagrant. He wore a straw
hat, flannel shirt, blue army overcoat, tow pan
taloons, and was barefooted. His clothes were
distressingly ragged. On his trial it appeared
that he was not a vagrant, but the editor of a
greenback paper out somewhere in central lowa,
and he was discharged from custody.
Touch me gently, father Time ;
Lift, oh, lift me one with care,
Smear me lightly; in my prime
Do not frost my raven hair.
And old Tempus gently touched him,
Raised him out without a sigh;
Scalped him, bent Kim over, crutcbed him,
Pulled his teetn out; blacked his eye.
To Time’s mercy he had trusted,
And was prematurely busted.
Prof. Tice’s system of weather forecasts
is a science that is yet in its infancy, and can
not, of course, be relied on to the minute. In a
similar state of infancy and consequent unrelia
bility, and even more so is the science relative
to the laws which govern the actions of the man
who promises to drop in to-morrow or next
Wednesday and settle that little account. You
can predict a thunder storm with ten times as
much accuracy.
Oh, the flies ! the horrible flies ! J
Buzzing around like election lies;
Dodging about like a maniac’s dream,
Over the butter and into the cream;
Holding conventions all over the bread,
Biting your ears and tickling your head,
Crawling,
Buzzing,
Too busy to die
Dog gone the nasty pestiferous fly.
An entomologist from New Hampshire,
who has been traveling through northwestern
lowa for two weeks past, writes back to a New
York paper that be has seen the grasshoppars
washed into the Des Moines river until they
formed “ a putrefying scum three inches thick.”
It is awfully discouraging to our native liars to
have this imported talent come out from the
cultured East and get away with them.
Chinese women have no sense. Every
night they pray to their gods to change them
into men. Ob, foolish women. By the time
you had walked a mile and a half out of your
way in the hot sun, and dived down eleven al
leys, and rambled through three lumber yards
on your way to the office, in order to keep out
of the way of men who wore looking for you to
dun you, you would be happily content to sit
at hoove, behind closed blinds and locked doors
in an up stairs room and sow all day. Want to
be men, indeed 1
At a house on Sixth street, in which
there isn’t a fly track or a grain of dust, the
mistress of the manse keeps a big rag hanging
up by the door, and every soul who enters that
house is trained to take that rag and fightback
the eager flies as ho squeezes in at tfie half
opened door. And just here let us pause to
remark, brethren, that we would go out bare
headed, in the hot sun, with the thermometer
at 280° above, and herd three million flies and
drive them into the house, rather than drive
one fly out. (Because it would be a great deal
easier to do.)
Seasonable literature : On the plat
form : “But, alas, schoolmates, how shall we
say farewell? How shall we unclasp tho gol
den chain that binds our hearts in loving uni
son? How shall we sever the lives that cling
to each other in tender accord ? And you, our
dear teachers ” (The rest is lost in sobs.)
Fifteen minutes later—iu ho dressing-room :
“Oh, Alviry June Sikes, you nasty, mean,
freckled, old ” “Shut up, you hateful old
hypocrite, or I’ll slap your ugly mouth 1’
“ Ugh, you envious little snake ; I’d like to
scratch your crooked eyes out 1” Smack! Spat!
Screech! Yow-ow-ow 1 Sptl 800 hoo! 800
hoo 1
Alexia has reached the paternal roof.
The Czar looked at tho young man as he
dropped into the nearest chair and said : “Ah,
ha ? got home, have ye ?” “ Yes, Sir.” “ Where
have you been?” “ Out ’th boys ?” “Got any
money left?” “No zer.” “Debts?” The
young man felt in his breast pocket, ana drew
out two or three bonds for his appearance be
fore the mayor’s court. The old man read
them, said he’d attend to them, told his son to
put on a clean shu t and get shaved, and Keep
away from America. And ten minutes after
ward Alexis was sitting with his head wrapped
iu wet towels trying to toll a Russian barkeeper
with a name liko a fit of delirium tremens how
to make an American cocktail.
THE LAST HORSE.
BY M. QUAD.
Bro. Gardner had planned to celebrate the
glorious Fourth by hunting snipe on the shores
of St. Clair, but when he reached the race
course the excitement drew him in among the
spectators. It was noticed as he came down
in the evening that his shot-gun was missing,
and be was asked to explain its absence.
“I doan’ feel much like ’splaining anything,”
he sadly answered. But being pressed he went
on:
“Well, after I got in dar and seed everybody
puttin’ up deir money on do bosses I reckoned
I’d better scoop some greenhorn out'n five or
ten dollars. I went over and took a look at de
flyers. Bimo by I eceij one dat pleased me, and
I made up to de driver and axed Limit he meant
to win de race. He said he did. He said he'd
go right by all de odder bosses as de light
ning goes by a man wid a wheelbarrow, and he’d
come down he stretch-home wid sparks o’ fire
flying from de wheels.”
“And you bet on that horse?”
“Dat’s wot T did, of course. I put up dat
new shot-gun agin five dollars, and when 'de
eight bosses pranced up to do score, I could
feel dat five dollars jumpin’ right frew all my
veins.”
“Well, did your horse win?”
“ Not ezactly—not unless de anamile which
comes in behind all de rest is de winner. When
I seed him way back dar I yelled for de driver
to put on de whip, but be never minded me,
and a white man hit dis plug hat an awful
smash. I believe dat horse was pulled. It doan’
seem to me dat he was given a fair show. Den
it doan’ stan’ to reason dat his driver would tell
me to bet on de boss if be didn’t feel suah ob
de race. What fer should be lie ? What for
would be de objeck.”
“ So you’ve lost the gun ?”
“De gun dun gone. De feller wat winned it
walked right off like de biggest duke in Michi
gan, an’ ef a rush of cool air hadn’t come along
’bout dat time I might’ur sunk down on de
gras to rise no moab. Ize feelin’ better just
now, an’ ef I km make de ole woman believe I
los’ de gun in de maash I’ll recover from dis
shock as de years roll away.”
A FEROCIOUS MISCR~EAKT.
HIS CONVICTION RECEIVED WITH
APPLAUSE.
The trial of Salvatore Danish for the murder
of Guisseppina Gazzarra, says a conespondent,
has just terminated. It has absorbed the at
tention of the Neapolitans for more than a
month, and scarcely ever perhaps were such
loathsome and ferocious details brought before
a court of justice. The crowd was very great,
and the heat intense ; nevertheless, so great
was the desire to hear the verdict of the jury,
and so great, too, was the desire that the ac
cused should be sentenced to death, that not a
person moved. The summing up by the Presi
dent concluded at about four o’clock, when the
jury retired, and the anxiety to learn the result
of a trial which has lasted thirty-two days, was
greater than can be described.
Half an hour was sufficient for the jury, who
returned to the court about half-past four
o’clock, amid ttie greatest silence. Eight ques
tions were proposed to them, the answers to
which were to the effect that at the end of Au
gust or the beginning of September, 1875, Da
nish had murdered Gazzarra by administering
to her poison, and that he had instigated his
victim to rob her seducer, the priest, Vincenzo
Palazzo, of a sum of money and of Turkish
bonds. On every count the answer was affirma
tive, and to the question :
“Are mitigating circumstances refused?” the
answer of the foreman was :
“ There is nothing else.”
Danish was brought in a few minutes later,
tottering, trembling, and with his head bowed
down; but, on sitting down, resumed his old
position, folding his arms, and assuming an ex
pression of stony insensibility. The Court then
retired to consider the verdict, returning at live
o’clock, when the President declared :
“ In the name of his Majesty, &c., the Court
condemns Salvatore Danish to the punishment
of death.”
No sooner was it pronounced than there was
a burst of applause throughout the hall. The
President rang his bell, the advocates for the
defense shrieked for silence, and some of the
superior class expressed their indipiation
against so unseemly a demonstration ; but the
feeling of the public was beyond control, and it
was long before it was calmed. Had it been a
simple murder in hot blood he could have been
pitied, but people were maddened by the slow
and premeditated mode of destroying life—by
the disgusting way in which it was attempted
to conceal the crime, and by the fact of Danish
having slept for eight days with the body of his
victim and mistress cut in pieces and packed
closely in a box under his bed. Then it was
that, unable longer to endure the odor, he sent
it off to Rome.
“The verdict,” says a journal, “does honor
to a Neapolitan jury, and satisfies the con
science of the country.”
But many doubt whether the sentence will be
executed. Mancini is by the side of the king,
and Mancini is preparing a bill for the abolition
of capital punishment. Compared with the
hyena who has just been condemned, Leone
and men of his stamp were heroes of whom it
is almost refreshing to think. Whatever their
crimes, they carried their lives in their bands
and fought and died bravely; high prices were
put on their heads, and the man who shot any
one of them was crowned with honor. Will it
be possible, therefore, with any regard for the
public sentiment, to save the life of such a
cowardly, ferocious miscreant as Salvatore Dan
ish?
STORMY SUMMERS.
The Tornadoes of the Last Decade—The
Great Storms of the Past.
(From the Cincinnati Commercial.)
The occurrence of great and destructive
storms is frequently marked in history. Per
haps the most terrible one on record is what
is known as the great storm of Nov. 26-27,
1703, in England and throughout Europe. In
that frightful tempest, lasting throughout the
greater part of two days, the number of per
sons drowned in the Thames and Severn, and
lost on the coast in ships blown from their
moorings and never heard of afterward, was
estimated at 8,000 souls. The loss of property
sustained in London alone, by wind and flood,
was estimated at the enormous sum of 2,000,000
pounds sterling, In the county of Kent a great
number of trees were torn up by their roots,
*he Eddystone Lighthouse was completely de
stroyed, and immense numbers of cattle were
killed and drowned. ’ In the West Indies, from
the 3d to the 18th of October, 1780, terrible
hurricanes devastated the whole country. At
Barbadoesover 4 000 inhabitants lost their lives
in this tempest, and the destruction of British
and other vessels in West India harbors was
frightful. Another terrible hurricane visited
the island of Barbadoes Aug. 10, 1831. In this
tempest over 2,500 inhabitants were killed, and
over 5,000 wounded.-
Many of our readers will remember the fear
ful hurricane which swept over Ohio and States
lying to the westward as far as lowa, in June of
the year 1860. The violence of the wind which
attended this great storm was declared by many
to have been without a parallel. Great destruc
tion to trees, crops, roofs, vessels, and some
loss of life, were the results along the broad
track of this tempest, reaching in width for
many miles.
In the year 1866, tremendous gales swept
across the American lakes and the Atlantic
coast from the 6th to the 11th of January. The
same hurricane reached Europe, and the steam
er Amalia went down with a cargo valued at
$1,060,000. Many wrecks and great loss of life
were reported in various countries, showing
that an unusual atmospheric perturbation per
vaded different parts of the globe at the same
time.
A frightfully destructive storm was the tro
pical hurricane which struck the coast of Nova
Scotia with terrible fury on the 24th and 25th
of August, 1873. The loss of life was frightful,
and that of property was estimated at the time
from four to five millions of dollars. About
nine hundred houses were destroyed, the dam
age done to wharves and crops could scarcely
be calculated, and the number of vessels known
to have been destroyed during the 24th and
25th of August, was 1,032. In the neighbor
hood of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the At
lantic shores of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland,
the loss of life was not proportionately large,
being estimated at less than five hundred in all.
It is notable that the month of June, 1871,
was prolific in thunder and rain storms, espe
cially in the Western States. The 16th of June
there was an awful tornado at Eldorado, Kan.,
that nearly destroyed the whole town. On the
18th, at several points in Wisconsin, violent and
destructive tornadoes*were reported. The same
day a terrific hurricane at Scranton, lowa, de
molished houses and carried light buildings
ten rods, killing the inmates. The same day
Westerville? lowa, reported a terrible tornado,
and the vicinity of Springfield, 111., was visited
by an awful cyclone, pulling up trees and whirl
ing fences in the air. On the 19th of June the
same year (1871). there was a terrific thunder
and ram storm, flooding the country in Kansas
and Minnesota, and on the 28th of the same
month there was a great storm on Lake Supe
rior, attended with furious winds from all points
of the compass (whirlwinds), twirling the waves
into spires, or water-spouts, and attended by a
destructive tidal-wave at Duluth, Minn.
On the 9th of July, 1871, Dayton, Ohio, was
visited by a violent tornado, in the path of
which many houses were demolished and
bridges blown down, several per
sons being killed, and the total damage to prop
erty in the city and country estimated at at
least one million dollars.
A RAILROAD AI)VENTURE.
A Nevada Man “Experiences” Giants
and Dwarfs.
[From the Virginia (Nev.) Enterprise.]
A gentleman of ibis city, whom we shall call
Ned Arthur, spent two or three months in the
Atlantic States during the Centennial. While
knocking about Washington, Baltimore and
Philadelphia, be one evening took the cars for
New York, Boston, or some city in that direc
tion, and being “tired,” was soon asleep.
He at length awoke, and, rubbing his eyes,
began to look about. His seat was near the
end of the car, and before him, in a corner
seat, he saw a man whose head almost touched
the roof. Ned rubbed his eyes for another look,
when he saw another monster man—a second
giant—in the opposite corner from that occu
pied bv the first.
While gazing in a bewildered way from one
giant to the other, our Comstocker saw some
thing move in a seat in front of one of the giants.
Getting upon his feet to see what it might be,
he was astonished to find lying in the seats in
front of the giants several little men and wo
men. They seemed people of the land of Lili
put, being hardly half the length of the seats in
which they were reposing.
Ned looked for the Brobdignagians, and
fonnd them still sitting stiffly upright in their
l respectiveijorners, One of them yawned, show-
ing a mouth like the entrance to a bake oven.
Another look at the sleeping dwarfs, and he sat
down as limp as a dish-cloth.
“Can they be real?” asked Ned of himself.
“Not likely?” be thought. There might happen
to be one or even two giants in the car, but why
the dwarfs ?
He tried to think it was all right, but tho
longer he gazed upon the strange people about
him, the greater became his uneasiness.
“I must have touched glasses with too many
friands of late,” thought he.
When this notion took possession of him he
could not rest until be arose and poked one of
the little people with his cane. He wanted to
see if they were real. Tho one touched (it
proved to be a female) awoke with a frightened
screech and cried :
“Go away 1 go away, sir 1”
Ned took his seat, but was not satisfied.
Even the voice of the little creature might be
an illusion. , The giants, from their two corners,
occasionally' turned upon him their great,
sleepy eyes, looking, even in this, as wooden as
possible. One of the dwarfs sat up for a mo
ment, rolled its eyes about, and iay down again.
Cold sweat began to bead Ned’s brow. Such
beings might be in the car, but ho had his
doubts about them.
At last he could endure the uncertainty no
longer. He arose, and going to the opposite
end of the car, said, as unconcernedly as possi
ble, to a gentleman seated there: “What
giants and dwarfs are those at the other end of
the car ?”
“ I don’t know the names of the giants,” said
the gentleman, “but the dwarfs are General
Tom Thumb and Commodore Nutt, with their
wives, formerly Miss Lavinia Warren and Miss
Minnie Warren. The party, giants and dwarfs,
have been exhibiting at the Centennial. 1 be
lieve, and came aboard the train at a station
some distance back.”
“Ah, thank you!” hoartilv cried Ned. “I
thought 1 recognized tho little people, though
it has been some years since I last saw them.”
And then he went back to his seat and stared
the giants out of countenance.
An Ounce and a Ton Weight.—An
ounce weight and a ton weight of iron will fall down
a pit with equal speed and in equal time. Until
about 300 year s ago, all the learned men in the world
disbelieved and denied it. Galileo, an Italian, tauuht
the contrary to the popular belief. The University
of Pisa challenged him to the proof. The leaning
tower of that city was just the place for such an ex
periment. Two balls were obtained and weighed,
and one was found to be exactly double the weight
of the other. Both were taken to the top. All Pisa
looked on, and crowds of dignitaries were confident
that young Galileo, then obscure and despised, but
honored and immortalized now, would be proved to
be in error. The two balls were dropped at the
same instant. Old theory, and all the world, said
that the large ball, being twice as heavy as the less,
must come down in half the time. All eyes watched,
and, Ip! all eyes beheld them strike the earth at the
same instant. Men then disbelieved their eyes, and
repeated the experiment many times, but each with
the same result. The littie ball was big enough to
destroy a theory 2,000 years old; and had it been
little as a pea, it would have destroyed it just as well,
or even more quickly.
But how was this ? Did not the earth draw down
the large ball, wnich was doubl?the weight of the
smaller, with double force ? Did not the double
weight indicate the double force? Yes, truly; but
in drawing down the large ball there was a double
force of resistance to be overcome, and as the two
forces acted in a given proportion on the large ball,
and in the same proportion on the less, the velocity
of the two was equal, though in bulk they were un
equal. Det us suppose there be two wagons, one
with a load of five tons, and the other ten tons, and
that the unequal loads are drawn by an equal horse
power-should not their speed be equal, though their
weigats are unequal? No. There must be double
horse-power to draw the double weight, to obtain
equal speed. Let a ten-pound weight and a one
pound weight fall to the earth at the same time, and
the earth must draw down the heavier weight with
ten times greater force than the other that they may
have equal speed, and it does so. A ton weight of
iron and an ounce weight, leaving the top of a pit at
the same instant, would, therefore, at the same in
stant fall to the bottom.
Following a Tbail.—One of the moat
remarkable features of uncivilized life is the power
savages show of tracking men and beasts over im
mense distances. Many travelers have spoken of
this as something almost miraculous, yet it is only
the result of careful observation of certain well
known signs; and we have here before us a oollec
tion of very common-sense hints on the subject. In
countries like ours every trace of foot-print or wheel
track on roads and paths is soon obliterated or hope
lessly confused; but it is otherwise in the wilder
ness, where neither man nor beast can conceal his
track. In Kaffirland, when cattle are stolen, if their
foot-prints are traced to a village, the headsman is
held responsible for them, unless he can show the
same track going out A wagon track in a new coun
try is practicably indelible. “More especially/’
says our authority, “ this is the cage if a fire sweeps
over the plain immediately after, or if a wagon passes
during or after a prairie fire. We have known a
fellow-traveler recognize in this manner the tracks
his wagon had made seven years before, the linos of
charred stumps crushed short down remaining to
indicate the passage of the wheels, though all other
impressions had been obliterated by t'he rank annual
growth of grass fully twelve feet high.” Sometimes
original soil being disturbed, a new vegetation will
spring up along the wagon track, and thus mark out
the road for miles. Even on hard rock a mas’s bare
foot will leave the dust caked together by perspira
tion, so that a practiced eye will see it; and even if
there is no track, a stone will be disturbed here and
there, the side of the pebble which has long laid
next the ground being turned up.
Feeding a Lunatic by Electbicity.—
An elegantly scientific mode of compelling a man to
swallow food, who otherwise would have starved
himself to death, has been devised and put in prac
tice in a French lunatic asylum. One of the pa
tients who has persistently refused food,was becom
ing quite emaciated. The physician in charge, Dr.
Ritti, was experimenting upon the patient to ascer
tain whether any of the functions of the palate,
throat, etc., were impaired. On applying the ter
minals of a Ruhmkorff coil, so as to pass a current
from the pharynx to the upper side of the neck just
below the angle of the lower jaw, all the muscles of
that region contracted, and the pharnyx made an
upward movement. A bright thought struck the
doctor. He bad some food prepared in portions,
each of which represents a small mouthful. One of
these boluses was put into the patient’s mouth, and
the mouth was kept closed by an assistant. Then
an electric current was passed, as before described,
and the patient swallowed the bolus. The upward
movement which the pharnyx made under the stim
ulus of electricity was precisely the same as that
which is naturally made by that organ in the act of
swallowing. The process was repeated with the re
maining boluses until a square meal had been ad
ministered to the patient. When the next meal
came round the patient resisted, and gave a great
deal of trouble to the doctor and his assistants; but
the ingenuity which had so far triumphed was not
to be easily foiled, and the treatment is pronounced
successful.
A Child Catches a Weasel.—The
Newburg Journal, of Saturday, tells the following
story of adventure, the little heroine being a young
Miss of some twelve years, daughter of a farmer
residing near the village of Mount Hope: “While
she was engaged feeding a hen and chickens, at an
early hour this morning, a weasel made its appear
ance among the br®od and seized one of the chicks.
The plucky little girl grasped the chicken and
vainly endeavored to release it from the fatal jaws
of its ravenous enemy. Bereft, in its eagerness for
blood, of fear, the weasel held on, resisting all the
efforts made to shake him off. Determined not to
be beaten in the contest, the young Miss then
seized the weasel by the nape of its neck and ran
to the house, a distance of some 200 feet, making
her appearance in the dining-room, where the
family were seated at breakfast, with it firmly
•cluched in her grasp, her hands bleeding from re
peated applications of its teeth and claws. Here
the family dog was called in, but the weasel fast
ened its jaws in the upper lip of his dogship, who
with howls of pain wildly ran about the room. Tbe
distress of the dog, a great household pet, again
put the little girl upon her mettle, and seizing the
weasel she choked him off tbe dog, but only to cause
him to fasten his teeth in her thumb, which he bit
through and through. The pain must necessarily
have been great; the child uttered no cry of dis
tress, but patiently awaited until the grip of the
weasel had been released by his being choked. The
animal was then killed.
Mabbied and Unmarried.—The French
Journal Officid gives some curious statistical tables
showing what is the proportion both of married and
single women to the rest of the population in France
and in England. It appears by those tables that in
the latter country, out of every hundred of the in
habitants, nearly twenty-three are women between
the ages of fifteen and forty-five. This whole num
ber is divided almost as equally as possible between
the married and the unmarried, 114 belonging to
the former category, and 11*6 rejoicing, or lament
ing, as the case may be, over the title of spinster.
In France the proportion of women to the whole
population is, in spite of the recent war, rather less
than in England, amounting only to 22-5 per cent.,
as against 23. But of the Whole number a far greater
percentage have entered into the blessed state of
matrimony, the proportion of married and single
being 12 to KUo. It is thus clear that the relative
number of old maids or probable old maids in Eng
land exceeds that of tbe old maids or probable old
maids in France by rather more than one per cent,
of the whole inhabitants. Or, to use the phrase
which a sporting man would adopt if he dared to
wager on so serious a subject, the betting about a
girl of fifteen in England is exactly a guinea to a
pound that she will be an old maid; whereas in
France, on the other hand, it is about twenty-four
shillings to a guinea, or eight to seven, that she will
marry some one before she is forty-five.
A Mubdebeb Captubed Afteb This
teen Years. —Sheriff Thomas J. Porter, of White
county, Hlinois, arrived here Monday evening, says
the Denver (Col.) News, having in custody a man
named John Aiken, who is charged with the murder
of one Tesh Stuart, in White county, Illinois, in
1864. The crime, which was committed so long ago,
was one of unusual barbarity, in which this prisoner
had as associates two men named Thomas and An
drew Glide. The victim was a wealthy farmer, and
tbe killing was prompted by the hope of securing a
large amount of money which he was supposed to
have in the house. Aiken confessed his crime, and
was to have been executed, but he succeeded in
breaking jail before the day arrived for the hang
ing. Coming at once to Colorado, he has since re
sided in the Territory and State, for some years liv
ing in Custer county, where he has a cabin, from
seventy-five to one hundred head of cattle, and a
family of nine children. The officer and prisoner
left yesterday on the East-bound train. Sheriff Pot
ter thinks there is but a slight chance to escape the
gallows, as there are still living two of the murdered
man’s children and a hired man who witnessed the
shooting. •
A Medical Restaurant. —A medical
restaurant has been lately established in London, on
the principle that diseases can generally be cured
by a special system of diet, and that they are caused
chiefly by improper food. On the entrance of a vis
itor, a physician asks him regarding his ailments.
His meal is then prescribed, and he is allowed to eat
no more than is presented to him. At the close he
is dismissed to smoke a medicated cigar and to sip
coffee, chamomile tea, or whatever other beverage
may be considered advisable.
A Romantic Stoby.—A belated Christ
mas story, but so romantic and sensational as to
warrant telling even at this late day, has recently
appeared in a San Francisco paper. Ten years ago
two brothers migrated from Illinois to San Francis-,
co. The elder was steady-going and capable an®
speedily found employment, but the younger was
dissipated and unreliable. They parted by mutual- 1
consent, the former to grow in his position until h©
became a partner in the fijm, the latter to sink to<
the precarious life of a criminal. The older brother
married a rich woman, moved into a mansion, and.
became the father of three children. Last Christ
mas eve the family retired about midnight, but th© i
gentleman had hardly closed his eyes when he wa©
awakened by a noise down stairs, and moving?
stealthily to the parlor with a revolver in his hand,,
he saw a man endeavoring to open the buffet where
he ken I his silver. Leveling his revolver at the
thief’s head, he exclaimed: <
“Stop, or you are a dead man!”
The jimmy dropped from the hands of the bur*
glar, who, falling on his knees, cried out:
“As God is my judge, Robert, I did not know ; that
you lived here!”
The gentleman then discovered, to h!s horror/
that the burglar whom he was about to shoot was'
the younger brother whom he had not met for near®
ly ten years. v
Lemons a Cure for Consumption. —A”
correspondent of an English medical journal fur®
nishes the following as a new cure fer consumptions
Put a dozen whole lemons in cold water, and boil
until soft (not too soft); roll and squeeze until th©
juice is all extracted; sweeten the juice enough to
be palatable; then drink. Use as many as a dozen ,
a day. Should they cause pain or looseness of th©
bowels, lessen the quantity, and use five or six a
day until better; then begin and use a dozen again..
By the time you have used five or six dozen, you?
will begin to gain strength and have an appetite.
Of course as you get better you need not use so
many. Follow these directions and we know that
yon will never regret it, if there is any help for you.
Only keep it up faithfully. We know of two cases
where both the patients were given up by the phy
sicians, and were in the last stages of
yet both were cured by using lemons according to
the directions we have stated. One lady in particu
lar was bed-ridden, and very low; hod tried every*
thing that mouey could procure, but all in vain,
when, to please a friend, she was finally persuade®
to use the lemons. She began to use them in Feb
ruary, and in April she weighed 14.0 pounds. She i©
a well woman to-day, and likely to live as long as
of us.
The Largest Musio-Box in the?
World. —An eminent Swiss mechanician has jusfc
finished, for the Khedive of Egypt, certainly the big**
gest and finest, and probably the handsomest music
al box ever made. Its beautiful ebony case is buffet- :
shaped, as large as a full-sized sideboard, and inlaid
with zinc and brass work, and ornamented with
bronze chasings and plates. The interior of this re
markable box'ls a perfect marvel of mechanical in
genuity; it includes all the latest improvements for 1
selecting tunes, a patent moderator, 4c., and is fur
nished with flute, flute-basso, drum-bells and casta*'
nets. The repertory consists of 132 tunes supplied
by eleven cylinders—which can be exchanged at
pleasure—each of them 6 inches in diameter and 20
inches long. Notwithstanding its Brobdignagian
dimensions, this instrument, like others of its kind*
performs automatically; when the Khedive desires
to treat himself to a concert he need only to touch a>
spring, and if his highness should grow weary of
the monotony of hie 132 tunes, he has but to com
municate with tho maker, who can speedily supply
him with the materials for a few additional hun
dreds. To complete our description we ought to
mention that tho box is the result of eighteen
months’ labor, and that the price paid for it is
$4,000.
An Entebpbising Nevada Mouse.—
The Corinne (Nev.) Record tells the following storyz
Yesterday afternoon the writer witnessed a strange
sight in tbe Record office. Our attention was attract
ed by several lusty squeaks from the inside of a pail*
almost lull of water, into which a half-grown mouse,
had fallen. The alarm had hardly died away before
four or five mice appeared on the scene, and began
clambering to the top edge of the pail. For several
moments after gaining the edge of the pail and
catching sight of the mouse in the water, a squeak
ing confab was held. First one mouse and then an
other would cling to the rim of the bucket with hi©
hind legs, and while almost touching the water with
his nose, squeak out either consolation or advice to
the immersed. But while all this was going on, th©
swimming powers of the poor mouse in the pail wer<
rapidly giving out. At last a happy thought seemed
to strike the biggest mouse in the crowd, and almost
without a squeak he firmly fastened his fore-feet ta
the edge of the pail, and let his body and tail hang
down. The drowning mouse saw it, and, making a
last desperate effort for life, swam to the spot*
seized tbe tail of his brother mouse, and ami®,
squeaks of delight from all the mice present, was
hauled high and dry out of the water.
A Lady Killed by Lightning whilh
Drawing a Baby Carriage. —During the recent se«
vere thunder storm which passed over this section,
says the Rochester Democrat, a young lady named
Carpenter, a daughter of David Carpenter, of Holley,
was struck bv lightning and instantly killed. Mis©'
Carpenter, in company with another young lady, -
her sister-in-law, was walking along the road some
distance west of the village when the storm camq:
up. The ladies were drawing a baby carriage, each,
of them having a hand upon the handle of the car*,
riage. They were hurrying forward a» fast as pos
sible to reach the nearest farm-house to escape tha
rain, when a bolt of lightning fell upon the group
and instantly killed Miss Carpenter. The fluid
struck her upon the side of the face, and passing
downward cut her clothing entirely from her body*
and tore the shoes and stockings upon her feet ta
shreds. Her companion was stunned, but received
no serious injury. Tbe baby was thrown from th©
carriage and flung several feet into the eenter of th©
road without receiving even a scratch. The body of
the unfortunate lady was taken to a farm-house near,
by. She was about nineteen years of age.
Extinguishing a Fire with Milk.—
Several manufacturing companies are located here*,
writes the Barre (Vt.) correspondent of the Hartford
(Conn.) Times, but farming, wool, sugar, and stock
raising constitute the principal business of the place
—not mentioning the production in large
of tbe celebrated Vermont butter and cheese. By
the way, speaking of butter and cheese, reminds u©<
of an incident which occurred here a short time ago
at a fire. The barns here are, in almost every case,,
attached to the dwelling-house. One of them was in
flames; the inhabitants turned out en masse and
were fighting the fire successfully, with fair pros
pects of saving the house, when it was announced
that the supply of water was exhausted. Necessity*
it is said* is the mother of invention. The milk of
100 cows was substituted for water; carpets wer©
saturated with this precious but cheap commodity,
and—what seems a remarkable story to tell to our
Connecticut farmers—the homestead was saved from
the devouring element toy the free use of the rich
and creamy milk of the fine Jerseys whose forms dot
every hill-side for miles about here.
A Moose Attacks a Canoe.—The Ayl.
mer (Ontario) Times has the following account of an
extraordinary encounter with a moose: •
“As Mr. Flatters, of this village, and Mr. T. H.
Kirby, of Ottawa, were traveling in a canoe on th© I
Upper Gatinieu, last week, an occurrence took place
which might have had disastrous consequences for
them. They had just rounded a point when tbej
found themselves confronted by a huge moose, who*
with two young ones, was playing in the water. In
stead of taking to tbe bush, as it was expected sha
would, the animal made at once for tho canoe, and
attacked it with great fury. Mr. Kirby broke his
'paddle over the immense head of the brute, and Mr. t
Flatters cut off her foot with an ax; but this only",
soemed to make her more savage. Seeing the im- 1
possibility of escaping, they determined to shoot
the animal in order to save their own lives, if possi
ble; so five or six well-directed shots from the bail
iff’s revolver ended one of the toughest fights which i
ever took place between man and beast in that neigh
borhood. The two young moose were afterward capf>. :
tured.
How Anacondas abe Captured.—The
anaconda in the Zoological Gardens, London, whiclk?
has been considered quite a respectable snake*,
turns out to be a coxnparatively small creature of it©
kind. Henry J. Oooke, of Caracas, Venezuela, in ts
letter to Frank Buckland, states that in the small'
rivers which flow into the Orinoco there are larg©
numbers of anacondas much larger tbau the one th©
society has, and that in a large pond near a friend’3
house in Maturin lives in shy retiremevt one that is
thirty-eix feet long and a yard in diameter. Th©
managers of the gardens have offered §2,500 for th©
capture and delivery in England of this serpent. It:
requires an expert fisherman to catch these crea
tures alive. In Africa a live dog is used as bait, an®
after the dog has been bolted, the boa coiis up an®
takes a nap, and than the fisherman stuffs,him into
a bag. A big pookot will be required for the gentle *
man in the Maturin pond.
A Man’s Suit fob Bbbach of PbomisbJ
—ln the Court of Common Pleas, Dublin, a butchery
named Knowles sued Mrs. Caroline Verschoyle, now
Mulligan, for breach ol promise of marriage. They
met on a steamer bound from Liverpool to Dublin,
She was the mistress of a fine residence—Roebuck*
Hall—and the mother of three children. The plain
tiff was a widower with one child. Soon after their
first meeting they became engaged to be married.
As they were of different religious there was diflU
cutty about their being married in Dublin, and they
went to Liverpool, where they had to remain four
teen days before the Registrar would marry them,,
tbe expenses of their stay, $l5O, being paid by Mr.
Knowles. In the meantime tbe lady’s friends in
duced her to break off the match and return to Dub
lin, where she subsequently married a dealer in
periodicals. After twenty minutes’ deliberation th©
jury gave the plaintiff SI,OOO.
A Wild W oman Mystery. — Thia'
county, says the Montague (Texas) Pilot, has a wilq
woman mystery that is food and drink for th<
credulous and superstitious. She is like Hood’kl
negro ghost, who appeared in daylight because hq
could not show in the dark. She walks across on©
corner of a field and disappears in a thicket. Tho
man who owns the farm saw her several times,;
and says that if unmolested would walk quietly!
around that particular corner and then disappear*-
but if he moved that way she would turn and rusk
into ,the thicket. One day, when he saw it, he col-1
lected some of his neighbors, surrounded thej
thicket, and closely examined every nook and corner
of it, but could find no trace of the woman, or what-1
ever it was. At noon the very nexc day, however J
while be was at work in the field, he saw her ap
pear and disappear as usual.
How to Cube a Cold.—The moment
a man is satisfied he has taken cold, let him dq
three things: First, eat nothing; second, go tq
bed, cover up warm in a warm room; third, drinl*
as much cold water as he can, or as he wants, oi
as much hot herb-tea as he can; and in three case(
out of four he jwill be almost well in
hours. A half teaspoonful to a teaspoonful of salt
stirred into a half tumbler of water, and drank half<
an-hour before breakfast, is an excellent remedy for
sore throats, diptheria, or dyspepsia. It will gen-’
erally prevent serious attacks of these troublesome
complaints. All troubles proceeding from colds arq
soonest cured by careful attention to the condition
of the bowels. The effete matters.retained in
system from impairment of the eliminating pro
cesses, through cold or other causes, must be got
rid of, or disease inevitably follows.
A Showeb of Sand.—Recently a co*
pious shower of sand fell upon Rome, in Italy. Cars*
ried over the deserts of Africa, it filled tbe nppel
atmosphere like a great cloud, and to such an oxs
tent the sun at four o’clock in the afternoon seemed!
entirely shorn of its rays, appearing like a pal©!
moon of greenish tint. In some places tbe sand J
mixed with water, fell in little drops of mud. In
color the sand has a reddish brick tinge, mixe®
with grains of vegetable pollen. The same atmos<*
pheric phenomenon was observed at. Naples; but, al«w
though Vesuvius was in a partial state of eruption
no sand or cinders fell there.