New York dispatch. [volume], June 28, 1885, Page 6, Image 6

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
6
PAPA’S LITTLE GIRL.
6he was ready for bod and lay on my arm,
In her little frilled cap so fine,
"With her golden hair falling out at the edge,
Like a circle of noon sunshine.
And I hummed the old tune of •' Banberry Cross,”
And •• Throe Men who Put Out to Sea/’
When she sleepily said, as she closed her blue eyes,
“ Papa, fot would you take for me ?”
And I answered, *• A dollar, dear little heart.”
And she slept, baby weary with play,
But I held her warm in my love-strong arms,
And rocked her and rocked away.
Oh, the dollar meant all the world to me,
The land and the sea and sky,
The lowest depth of the lowest place.
The highest of all that’s high.
The cities with streets and palaces.
Their pictures and stores of art,
I would not take for one soft low soft throb
Of my little one’s loving heart.
Nor'iall tho gold that was ever found
In the busy wealth-finding past,
Would I take for one smile of my darling’s face,
Did 1 know it must be the last.
80 I rocked my baby and rocked away,
And I felt such a sweet content,
Jfor*the words of the song expressed to me more
Than they ever before had meant,
And the night crept on and I slept and dreamed
Of things far too glad to be,
And I wakened with lips saying close to my ear,
“Papa, fot would you take for me ?”
THE RED_IRON.
From the French of Le Figaro.
It was a Saturday, the day of the clinical sur
gery. In passing before the amphitheatre
where tho operations take place, I saw one of
the attendants of the hospital lighting, with the
help of a largo bellows, the charcoal in a
rechaud ot sheet iron. In the rechaud you
would find a half dozen very simple instru
ments, all of the same appearance, all of the
same dimensions. They were slender iron rods
of; a calibre a little less than ordinary crayon;
each had a round handle of black wood. Tho
other extremity of the rod was welded at right
angles, exactly as the little curtain rods are ad
justed in the screw ring for holding up light cur
tains. It was easy to recognize that these irons
were for cauterization.
Of all the cauterizations, the one made with
the red iron is the most efficacious, but it is al
so the preparation of which causes the most
pain. The rechaud where the charcoal was
lighted under the long and humming oscila
tions of the great bellows, tho irons that you
could see passing progressively from black to
red, from red to white, the handles of wood
which clearly indicate that it is the one instru
ment easy to be handled, destined to be manipu
lated,all these strike the imagination and make
the heart faint.
With deep interest and not without anguish,
I entered the amphitheatre and seated myself
in a place distant from the table of operation.
Tho surgeon-in-chief and professor of Clin
ique, that we are to sketch in some features, is
a contemporaneous celebrity, giving proof, once
more, that one should not Judge the merit of a
man by his appearance. Ho is a little fat man 1
ot thick stature, and aldermanic proportions, so !
much so that ho can not wear the apron of tho
hospital properly, but attaches the belt almost
under the armpits, like a robe of Madamo do
Stael. Tho ill-natured pretend that tho warm :
color of his complexion is duo to a stroke from '
tho brush of Bacchus. This is not probable,
lor those groat practitioners, these desperate 1
workers, have not tho time ttf give for copious 1
libations, especially the timo in which to digest 1
them. Upon this massive and short body is a
powerful cranium, a forehead largo and domi
nant, and two little sagacious eyes, with a 3
shrewd and intelligent look, often accompanied ■
with a smile of witty good nature.
That morning his skull cap of black velvet in- '
dined toward ouo ear, with an air of familiar 1
carelessness, and ho held in his hand some
splinters of bone, still red with bipod, ho had '
that same instant extracted from the arm of a 1
patient, by the aid of sharp nippers. The pa
tient who had been subject to this operation
was still there. Whether ho had finished or
whether they wished to spare the sight ot blood
to tho following patient, tho first, in going out,
tried to cover his head with his white sheet
stained with large drops of red, like the ghost
Xf Macbeth in a winding sheet stained with
blood. " ’
The operator was explaining how he had be6D
obliged tp manage in order to extract the pieces '
iff bouß aitef having parted the flesh ; lie had not
neon forced, happily, to employ the probe and 1
.the mallet, a? Ijq had feared, for cases occur in
which tho surgeon is obliged to proceed as the *
carpenter who raises the shavings upon a piece
of wood ; still ho feared that he would have to
begin again in a short time, as the bone ap
terribly affected. 'r' ' £ ’
He passed from this cash immediately to that
Of a patient, a Wemaitj fbl' whom the iron was
being heated. She was about twenty years of
fcgo, and had occupied the cot for a month, in
so. 25, in the ward Saint Mario. She was en
tered into tho hospital for a tumor on the left
knee ; one of too many cases which have their 1
origin through many causes; in bad hygienic
conditions, through misery and privations of all
sorts, which vitiate and debilitate the indigent
population of great cities.
Tho workmen who labor fourteen or fifteen
hours per day, in the damp and dark base
ments, who sleep at night in closets without
windows and without ventilation, where, often
times tho light of day cannot find entrance,
thoso workers who do not earn enough and
who do not manage well enough to obtain suffi
cient food for health, must perpetuate in their
impoverished blood tho dull and inevitable
germs of death and disease.
Born in poverty, killing herself with over
work, to escape dying from hunger, this poor
young woman, upon whom he was about to
operate, was also one of tho numerous victims
ot misery in tho largo cities, and one fine day,
not being able to walk, neither to support her
self, was brought to tho hospital in a public am
bulance.
At first her knee had been treated by com
pression, by winding a band, strongly pressed
around tho region affected, after having inter
posed between tho kneo and tho band a thick
bed of wadding, for tho purpose of holding the
bandage and for correcting on one side the hol
lows and on tho other tho prominences of tho
articulation. But this compression had not
sensibly ameliorated the state of the patient,
and tho chef de clinique decided to practice
cauterization by the red iron.
“ Present the patient,” said tho surgeon, af
ter having terminated his explanations.
bne entered, accompanied and supported by
A nurse; she advanced, blushing and lowering
her eyes. Sho feared to have her poor body of
a woman given as a spectacle to this crowd of
young, sneering students, seated in a semi-cir
cle upon benches disposed as in a circus. Her
face, smooth and Inely cut, has still, in spite of
ithe malady, the fresh expression of the face of a
young girl. Her hair is black and fluffy, es
caping from her little white cap in stray curls
and rings upon her forehead, to which a month
of life in the hot-house heat of the hospital had
giv a a whiteness to the skin of a woman of the
world. Her eyes are also black, vailing their
sympathetic looks behind long lashes. While
the nurse is leaving her and goes away, she fol
lows her with her eyes, supplicatingly and with
.an air of supreme regret. She had counted,
perhaps, that tnis woman would remain there
with ter during tho operation, and assist her at
■.tho painful moment; but now she sees around
her nobody but men whose eyes are concen
trated upon her. She regards the surgeon with
fear, for sho h?.: seen that he has a large drop
.of blood upon tho cuff of his shirt. Dismayed
and put out of countenance, she does not know
what to do, and she asks herself if the brazier
is for her that she has just seen in the corridor,
with the red irons which tho attendant was
turning over the coals.
It must be, however. Tho surgeon is there,
quite ready with his staff of internes and ex
ternes; how would she dare draw back. And
then she has been told that this would cure her.
Without counting the difficulty of moving, which
is a constant pain to her, she is young and
wojld be happy to be no longer an invalid.
And if, in suite of the torture she is to enduro,
she should not be cured ? What a dreadful
perplexity. Then, hearing through the open
door the noise of the bellows exciting the flame
of the brazier, she anxiously regrets having
consented to tho operation.
Never mind, it is too late to shrink back. Sho
takes hvr courage in hand while a silent tear
■teals down her cheek. Gathering, suddenly,
all her resolution, she mounts upon a chair
. which has boon placed by an interne, and from
there upon the table of operation. She gathers
around her tho flowing fullness of her skirt,
and wi-a a go&turo of discreet modesty extends
herself upon tie sinister table, and vails with
her two hands her expressive eyes.
They wore to put her to sleep with ether. If i
tlj action oi other is less rapid, less persistent, I
»esß profound than that ot chloroform, it is also
less dangerous, and when administered with
method, there is less to fear from those catas
trophies which throw the chloroformed patient
into a sleep from which, sometimes, he cannot
be awakened. That very fact had just been
soon in tho practice of this surgeon who, in spite
of all tho scientific precautions, had had two
cases of death by chloroform. For that reason,
th vjr had since employed ether.
Tho surgeon loosened the clothing around tho
neck and untied tho skirt at tho belt, then
covered tho face with a kind of cap of blue
cloth, made for the inhalation of anesthetics,
and they commenced tho etherization.
“ The irons, aro they hot?” asked the sur
geon.
The attendant increased tho blowing of tho
bellows, and an interne wont to get one ot tho
instruments with a handle of wood which we
have described.
“That will not do yet,” exclaimed tho chef,
with impatience, seeing that tho iron brought to
him was hardly of a rod brown. “I told you to
make it a white heat,” and ho sent tho instru
ment back to the brazier.
In effect, when the iron is not sufficiently in
candescent, the timo taken in passing it from
h»nd to hand and applying it to tho flesh causes
tho operation to bo prolonged, as it becomes
necessary to press with effort, increasing the
fc jfforings of the patient, for tho burning is one
of those pains so atrocious that we have seen
tho patient die from nothing but nervous ex
haustion. Almost always tho attendants of tho
Amphitheatre make the same mistake, for, to
ttako sure, by an excess of zeal they beat tho
lions before they aro needed; then,when tho sur
£eou asks for one, the charcoal has lost its first
eat and tho metal is imperfectly reddened. It
is true that I have seen a great surgeon give the
preference to the red-brown iron.
I was full of anxiety for the patient, whose
knee had been uncovered through an opening
made in the bandage. I had always present in
> mind a terrible scene which I had witnessed
one day in the practice ot a surgeon, to whom
, they had given the significant appellation of Ma
jor “Cut-All.” He was operating upon an un
fortunate who was to be cauterized fn the re
gion of the wrist. They had given him chloro
form, but the operation was interminable and
prolonged by painful intervals, precisely be
cause the irons were not of a sufficient tem
perature. The poor man rose up suddenly,
while they were striping his wrist like a
zebra with long, yellowish burnings, his lips
trembling, his eye’s with a haggard look, and
began to apostrophize the surgeon with invec
tives, uttering with extreme violence appalling
complaints and vociferations. In the exaspera
tion of his pain he had such strength that he
shook, like a cluster of grapes, the half dozen
students who precipitated themselves upon him
to help the operator and his aids to hold him.
I dreaded for the young woman a similar scene.
At last the surgeon was able to obtain an iron
heated to his wishes. While with the left hand
he held the kneo of the patient, with the right
he takes the instrument and approaches it little
by little as if he was aiming at the spot where
he wished to begin, then he inserts it into the
cuticle. The iron fizzles upon the epidermis
like the shoe of a horse upon the horn, then pen
etrates more deeply, making a brownish spot
ting. The tissues smoke with the odor of car
bonized cutlet, the poor young woman utters
cries, in twisting herself her cap falls from her
head and her black hair fails around her white
throat and waves over her breast, which heaves
under the chemisette of her loosened camisole.
“ One,” said the surgeon in a low voice, in
counting the first spot. “ Two,” he added,
pressing down tho iron a second time, and so on.
Then when the instrument is no longer hot
enough, ho re-passed it to an interne to put into
the coals. A double row was formed from the
table of torture to the rechaud, the one passing
the red iron from hand to hand to tho chef, the
other to return the cold iron to the brazier.
Tho region of the knee made bare had at least
tho size of tho palm of the hand; the surgeon
had to cover the whole space with the seared
spots. Ho proceeded with method by rows in
concentric circles, tho first surrounding the sec
ond, the second enveloping the third, and so on,
converging toward the centre. After the first
spot the patient did not cry any more; only each
time that the iron sank deeply into the flesh,
soaring the living tissues, she arched her back
convulsively in away that made one shiver, the
flesh of the poor limb trembling on the place.
As he arrived at tho culminating point of the
pain, they heard coming from the throat such
painful and prolonged sighs as are instinctively
produced by any human being a prey to such
torture.
Thirty times the red iron marked this knee
as in former times they marked the shoulder
of a criminal. Then when the surgeon had
achieved these concentric circles, he added sup
plementary spots in the parts whore he thought
them too thinly sown.
“Ono more,” he said, wishing to profit from
the silence of tho patient, “to make the affair
more thorough,” as he used to say in his benev
olent cruelty as surgeon, for if habit had hard
ened him to tho pitiless necessities of his art, he
had a nature deeply good, which under the (
hard shell produced by professional habit Know
how to take tho part of the suffering, and used
all his efforts to prevent imperiling a human ex- ‘
istence-
Thus, professor of clinique that he was, over
burdened with a rich and numerous clientele ;
en ville, he devoted about three hours each
morning to attend with his own hands the
dressings in his service in the hospital.
When ho had applied the last iron they raised (
from the patient s face the cap of etherization. ,
Inafcead of having the complexion animated, j
and the eye sleepy, like one who has been un
der tho influence of ether, she was pale, and in
full possession of her senses. A perpendicular (
wrinkle between the eyebrows and a certain j
contraction ot tho lips gave to this young physi- j
ognomy a surprising expression of energy.
“Do you suffer much ?” I asked. .
“ Not much,” she responded.
“ Have vou suffered ?•’
“Yes, at tho commencement.”
“ You were not asleep then ?” .
“ No, not at all,” shaking her head.
“ Well,” said an interne covering the kneo, i
“do you know how many times they applied (
tho iron ?”
“Thirty-four times,” she said, with frightful ]
clearness'.
“ Tho chat Jias only counted thirty,”
tho interne. ;’VT.J. .
“Yes,” skd replied, “but after he added t
others, sayiijr he would do it thoroughly.”
Thus ,th lb poor young woman, whom we had ,
behoved insensible, had felt one by one each
turn without other manifestation of suffering j
than the prolonged respiration and the trem- j
bling of the flesh that we have before men- .
tioned. «
To those people who love better to attribute j
these obscure heroisms to a coarse organiza
tion than to do honor to real courage, I should j
not wish to insinuate that they have, perhaps, f
certain personal reasons for thinking thus. I j
should not like to pretend that they would not ]
be ashamed to attribute their delicate feeble- {
ness to the superior fineness of their organiza
tion. I will simply remark to them that this (
young woman was Parisian—enough to say that j
her nerves were not of wood.
Three months after, one morning, while I 3
was breakfasting in the nurses’ hall of the hos
pital, at dessert there suddenly appeared be- ,
lore us a cornucopia of sugar plums in watered
paper and ornamented with white favors. (
.This bourgeois bonbon and sweetmeat m the
waiting-room of a hospital. What an injury •
against the local tone !
“ Whose head is the guilty one?” was asked.
“It is I, gentlemen,” rising and taking off his
cap of black velvet, “one of the internes of the •
ward Sainte Marie. It is I, or, rather, it is an j
old student of twenty-one—the one who sup
port a little part in the cauterization of thirty- .
four points,” as though we were taking an active
part in a game of piquet.
“She is cured. She is to be married on
Saturday, and day before yesterday she brought
to me herself this sweet and sugared proof of
her gratitude.”
They devoured the sweetmeats while play
fully joking the interne of the ward Sainte
Marie and drank to the health of the future
bride.
PAPER vs. WIRE BUSTLES.
Why Ladies Take so Much Eoom. in
Horse Cars.
(From the N'ew Orleans Times.)
“Yes,” said the saleswoman, “the bustles
are about the same now as they were eight or
ten years ago, the only improvements being in
the adoption of certain shapes which better fit
the human form and consequently cause the
dresses ot ladies to show to a greater advan
tage. There has been no change, however, in
the material out of which bustles are manu
factured, the thin steel wire being use.d exclu
sively, and you know this wire sometimes snaps
and oftentimes tears valuable dresses and
causes a great deal of personal discomfort. It
would be a great deal better, I (think, if
bustles were manufactured out of some mate
rial that is more pliable and elastic.”
“ What do you call those bustles which are
rather large and point out and upward alter the
style of a handle on a tin dipper ?”
“ I do not know that they have any particu
lar name, unless you wish to term "them cos
tume bustles, as they are used to give a neat
set to dresses that have long, heavy trains and
consequently have to be stronger than the aver
age panier. The small, lumpy little bustle
which is tied around the waist like a life-pre
server, is worn with walking dresses about the
house.”
“Is not the life of a wire bustle rather
brief ?”
“ Yes; they do not last long for the reason
that they aro soon crushed, twisted and bent
into awkward and horrid shapes, and cause the
wearer to appear as if she were deformed. A
lame bustle when a lady walks, will not keep in
its place, but will wabble first one way and then
another, and make a poor woman a perfect
fright.”
“What stylo of bustles do the ladies like
best?”
“To tell you the truth, sir, the homemade
articlo gives more satisfaction than any other.
1 moan the newspr-cr bustle, which can be
made in a few mome“i and does not cost a cent.
A groat many ladies will wear no other kind,
because when the papers are properly wrapped
around a piccolof bailing twine it will retain
its shape, no matter how severely it is
whereas a close seat in a street ear is death to a
wire bustle, and that is the reason why ladies
when they ride in the cars spread their dross
! over the seat and usurp as much room as they
| can.”
HAD A "DAISY/
THEBE’S POINTS ABOUT A
HEARSE.
“ Come out through the-back way and see my
daisy I” he chuckled as he rubbed his hands to
gether.
“ What! gone into the funeral flower business
on your own account ? Yet, after all, why not ?
An undertaker might as well furnish the flow
ers as the coffin.”
“Como on. There—how does that strike
you ?”
“ That’s a hearse—a new one.”
“ But it’s the daisy I was speaking of. Isn’t
she spic-span and shiny?”
“ Very nice.”
“I should smile. It lays over anything of
the sort in this town, and don’t you iorget it!
Get in and lie down and let me bob the springs
to show you how easy it rides.”
“ No, thank you.”
“ You go on I There’s points about a hearse
the public ought to know. Get up on the driv
er’s seat.”
“ Excuse me, but I prefer a family carriage.”
“ Oh, pshaw I but you are too thin-skinned.
Just notice those springs. I tell you it will be
a positive pleasure to ride above ’em. The
dish of those wheels is absolutely perfect, and
>such a finish 1”
“ Yes, very nice hearse.”
“lou bet! Say, it will be a proud hour in
my life when I hitch a span of white horses to
that vehicle and prance around the house of the
late deceased. Lands ! but won’t the other un
: I dertakers look Line I Say, feel of these cur
i I taius—pure silk.”
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JUNE 28, 1885.
) “ I’ll take your word for it.”
“Go on, now I Hang it, but when an under
-3 taker puts up hie cash for a regular daisy like
' this you newspaper fellows ought to encourage
i him. Just remember that the old-fashioned
1 way of carrying a body around in a lumber
i wagon and then gaze on*this 1 Just notice how
- these rear doors open to admit the coffin.”
“Very handy.”
“ Handy I Why, man, it’s superb ! Bave you
noticed the glass in the sides ?”
I “Seems to be very good.”
“Good ! Why, it’s the finest in the world—
■ the very finest I I wanted something to show
, off tho coffin, and bore it is. I tell you, the late
, deceased ought to feel proud to ride in such a
vehicle! You can say in your paper tlmt it
knocks ’em all out. Say, how are you on
styles?”
“ What styles ?”
“ Coffins and shrouds, of course. Come in a.
minute. I’ve got a new thing in shrouds— ’
something you are bound to appreciate, and
I’m after a patent on a coffin with an air-re
ceiver in it. Say ! do me a favor. Let me en
close you in my new coffin and see how long
the supply of air will last you. I’ll bet a
dol ’ r
But the reporter had gone.
PROFESSIONAL VENTURE.
BY ETTIE ROGERS.
“ Would it not be better to stay quietly at
home, and not ramble about the world, seeking
for bread better than whoaten, and not con
sidering that many go for wool and return
shorn themselves,” Chet Lacroix quoted half
inaudibly, and with his meditative countenance
half averted from a witching vision before him.
The vision—the enchanting picture—was that
of a slender and stately girl with darkest auburn
hair and darkest azure eyes, with a mouth like
chiseled coral, and a skin like milk. She was
sitting just beneath a curiously ornate window
ot opalescent glass, and the rich subdued light
softly touched tho small proud head, the
spirited dainty face, the banjo on her arm, the
vase of great pale lilies near her, and her
satiny amber garments which gleamed and
shimmered against a dim back-ground oi
shadowy crimson hangings.
At the almost inaudible quotation she lowered
her pretty banjo, and lifted her enchanting face
toward her companion.
t “lam afraid I was not attentive,” she said
in an apologetic and dulcet voice.
“ I was quoting a bit of philosophy from Don
Quixote,” he smiled. “ And I was* wondering
you are so willing to leave your pleasant home,
to risk so much, for the uncertainties of pro
fessional venture.”
“ But why should I not make some sort of
venture for myself? ’ queried the girl, toying
coquettiehly with tho strings of her pretty
banjo. “ I have no one to gainsay anything I
may choose to do. Ido not risk so much, and
lam not so rich a salary will be amiss. And
the transition from private theatricals to a pro
fessional career seems neither singular nor
difficult. I shall succeed, even if I were not to
tho manner born,” she added confidently.
“ You aro very sanguine,” her companion
commented rather soberly.
“ I mean to be a groat actress,” she returned
in her stately and enthusiastic way. “ I shall
shrink from no sacrifice; I shall be daunted by 1
no obstacle; I shall be terrified by no hardship. 1
I shall labor zealously and indefatigably with a 1
devotedness which will ignore all lesser matters.
I must even reliiMjuish my dear and delightful
banjo, I suppose.”
“ You will have no time for music, neither for
sociability, nor domesticity, not even for love ?” 1
the banjoist remarked with an unfamiliar gray- 1
ity behind his quizzing smile. <
They were pupil and teacher—these two—fair
Crista Deperlo with her modest inheritance and !
orphaned independence, and Chet Lacroix, who j
had only his clever head, his honest heart, and ■
tho divine gift of music to help him through the 1
world. They wore teacher and pupil; but the
master had not been untaught—he had all too <
swiftly learned the lore of love !—and something
sweetoi? than banjo music had stirred the soul *
ot the aspiring girl yyhq was so soon to begin a 1
newer and less placid life. ’
“I shall taboo everything which might boa .
hindrance to my career,” said Crista, blushing 3
consciously despite her look of dignity and de
termination. “ I want no ignoble cares: I §hftl] f
keep an unburdened and a passionless
heart.” < •- <
h A really great actress of passionless heart
tho World has never yet produced,” Lacroix 3
answered dryly. “ One must
how to love, to ijiffer, to sympathize, if one 1
would vividly delineate the superior emotions.”
“ Such knowledge one ought make subserv- 1
ient to one’s art. The earnest actress no less
than the devout nun renounce the world
and its distractions,” Crista responded with her .
azure eyes hidden her magnificent dark ■
lashes. *
The young banjoist smiled. There was a cer
tain sublimity in the abnegation and fresh en- ’
thusiasms of the girl who contemplated a his
trionic career and who aspired to conquer the
histrionic world; but what he deemed her illu
sions amused him nevertheless.
“No woman can afford to renounce the ten
derer cares of life,” he said presently. “ You
too will love and marry some time.”
“ Yes; if I may some time wed a coronet,” she >
replied gayly, and only in girlish jest.
And yet perhaps the jest was a bit of diplo- J
macy meant to check the tender solicitude, 1
which thrilled her more than sho would have
chosen to admit.
However that might have been, he started
back from her and his debonair
changed; he looked affronted, pained, and per
haps rather contemptuous also.
“Well, I can only wish you success in all
your ambitions and endeavors,” ho at length
coldly faltered, and then abruply turned away.
“Chet,” she called suddenly, and with a
vague feeling of contrition.
But he did not heed her. Tho door was al
ready closing behind him, and the next instant
he was gone.
Two big tears trickled from the azure eyes
and splashed down upon the pretty banjo; but
after all, Crista was really glad the little episode ;
was over and done.
“Love is not for me,” she thought, “and I 1
must make no unwise marriage—no sentimental
mesalliance—to mar the flattering career I have 1
before me. And s after all, the coronet may be 1
less a iest than a prophesy—a splendid possi
bility.’*
But as time elapsed the coronet seemed to
her a possibility more and more remote. Her
histrionic career begun much less auspiciously
than she could have desired ; the coveted laur
els did not grow luxuriantly along the way of
the young debutante ; the provincial towns and
inland cities were chary of patronage; an Occi- !
dental tour exhausted her exchequer, and abso
lute disaster ended the season.
Tho doomed troupe was dispersed and the
extinguished star was left alone in a strange and ■
sombre firmament.
Companionless and almost moneyless, she at
length turned homeward, and still pitiless dis
astex* followed her. A wild tempest whirled 1
across the prairies; the gray snow clouds
seemed to drop m one vasf'illimitable mass,
fathoms deep, upon the impassable plain. Tho
mighty locomotives plunged and groaned, and
then stood still.
Then the winds veered with floods of sum- 1
mery rain; the snows dissolved, and the liber
ated train resumed its interrupted path. And
still unpitying disaster followed.
In the deep midnight there was a crash, a
jar, a pause—then a flashing of lanterns and a
pandemonium of ejaculations and interroga
tives and explanations. There had been some
inexplicable casualty—a wrecked train beyond
had obstructed the track and an intervening
bridge was burning.
“ The detention would be of unguessed dura
tion,” somebody announced, “ but beyond the
open fields and lot of woodland, net a mile dis
tant, was the station of an intersecting railway.
Luckily the passengers could easily transfer
themselves to the convenient little station.”
There was a grumbling and hesitating stam
ede, and in the midst ot the gloom and confu
sion tho dejected Crista Deperle began her en
forced tramp across tlie black and naked fields.
She was no longer the spirited and unfearing
girl whose sublime egotism had so amused her
adoring banjoist. She felt aged and jaded; she
was half ill with the worries and humiliations
which had beset her, and as she plodded along
the drenched and soggy way, not a few hot
tears trickled over her troubled face.
At the edge of the wood she stopped with a
startled glance about her. Not a human crea
ture was in sight; there was no light but the
distant flickering of lanterns on the obstructed
track and the yet more distant glare of the
burning b#dge; there was no sound but the
tinkling of the water oozing into rivulets from
every rise of ground. In some unaccountable
manner she had been left quite alone.
A strange sense of terror and desolation as
sailed her; her every heart-throb was a pang of
unreasoning fear; there was a delirious whir
ring in her brain; aguish tremors shook her
aching limbs. She took a pace forward, reeled
dizzily, and yyildly put out a hand to clutch
something- which might sustain her in that sud
den and awful weakness.
“lean go no further,” she moaned, as she
faintly leaned against the low black branch oi a
scrubby tree. “ I shall fall and die, perhaps,
among the decaying leaves and rotting grasses.
No one will ever search for mo—no one W'ill
ever find me. I shall perish here in the rain
and the night, and presently the snows will
cover me, and that will be the end.”
Just then a thud of footsteps sounded in the
miry way, a yellow lantern spark oscillated
through the void obscurity, and then the fitful
illumination revealed a debonair countenance
beneath a limp, brigandish hat and a familiar
form habited in an ugly mackintosh.
“Chet! oh, are you not coming to me?” she
plaintively called from the black shadow of the
scrubby tree.
For a moment he could only stand voiceless
ana inactive in his bewilderment, and staring
incredulously at the piteous vision—the almost
grotesquely piteous picture—of a stately figure
drooping strengthless; of satiny garments all
drenched with rain and smirched with miro: of
a proud face haggard with misery and humilia
tion.
Perhaps he comprehended much more than
she could know ; certainly he hazarded no ques
tioning which might embarrass or distress her.
With an almost reverent sympathy he ap
proached her, and with gentlest courtesy ho
wrapped his own big mackintosh about the
tremulous shape.
“So you, too, are a victim of the railway
• blockade,” said he, speaking with encouraging
) cheerfulness. “ I happened myself to be on tho
) wrecked express. lam with a traveling troupe
I of musical specialties, and I imagined you and
• I might meet somewhere on the road—though
not exactly in such a plight as this,” he finished
with the familiar, merry smile.
His gentle sympathy, his tender courtesy,
were eloquent of the unvoiced passion which
had thrilled her in the old time—the happy and
placid old time before her fatal histrionic aspira
tions had come between them—the sweet and
foolish old time when she had repelled and
affronted a love infinitely more precious than
the marvelous histrionic triumphs she had so
confidently anticipated. His love had remained
staunch and steadfast where all else had failed
her, and her plight was sufficiently deplorable,
perhaps, to disaffect a less loyal affection.
, “I deserve nothing better,” she said, as he
led her onward through the damp and tho dark.
“ I should have been wiser had I heeded your
bit of philosophy from Don Quixote. I fancy I
might pose beautifully as a representative of
them who go for wool and return shorn them
selves,” she added, with bitter humility.
With an amused laugh he glanced at her, and
then he sobered instantly. On her haggard
and dejected face was a look which was a-reve
lation to him.
“ You deserve everything which is best and
brightest in life, Crista,” he said, with sudden,
passionate intensity. “ Had I not realized that
I should long ago have offered you all I have to
give ; but I have so little—nothing but my im
perishable love, my darling. I cannot offei’ you
a coronet—l can only give you myself and my
banjo,” he concluded, with the familiar, irre
pressible mischief sparkling through hie tender
smile.
“True hearts are more than coronets,”
thought Crista,” blushing at the mischievous
allusion, and conscious of a new and ineffable
content.
And then, out there in the damp and the
dark, with wreckage behind them and refuge be
fore, the banjoist bent and kissed his promised
bride, and so her professional venture ended in
gladness rather than grief.
cleveFcihldren.
SOME STORIES TOLD OF THEM.
(From Tinsley’s Magazine.)
The coolest child I think that I ever met was
at a juvenile party. It was a very grand affair,
and the little ones were drinking champagne
and eating oyster patties and other messes with
tho greatest gusto.
Silent, stately waiters were moving ahont,
and seeing this little one’s plate empty, one
asked her what she would take.
“ A little twifle, if you please,” she said.
The waiter procured it, and asked if she
would take anything with it, meaning a tart, or
something of that sort.
A lobster salad rested on the table in front of
the child, and her eyes were attracted by the
pretty pieces of pink lobster mingling with tho
green lettuce and gold and white egg.
“ I’ll take some of that,” sho said, indicating
tho salad by a wave of her little hand.
Tho stately waiter looked surprised, and al
most laughed.
“ Lobster salad with a trifle, miss,” he said ;
“ I never heard of such a thing.”
The child saw she had made a mistake, and a
bright blush flushed her face, but never would
sho own it, but looked haughtily up into the
smiling waiter’s face, and said, as coolly as pos
sible :
“ I always take them together.”
And she ate the abominable mixture, too,
without a grimace. I envied that child.
Another child I once met never would be out
done. She would say the most ridiculous tilings
to prove that everything in her home was larger
or bettor than in the homes of others.
One day she was taking luncheon with her
aunt. The lettuces had been brought to table
just cut in four pieces, and without dressing.
The child looked at it and smiled in a superior
manner.
“ My mamma always has the salad cut up and
dressed,” sho said.
Her aunt laughed, and seeing a little stranger,
in the person of a tiny slug coiled comfortably
up among the crinkled leaves, called tho child’s
attention to it.
“ Perhaps you don’t have nice things like that,
in your salad,” she said.
The child looked at it for a moment, then
said, proudly:
“ That’s nothing, we have immense slugs in
ours,” -a ■
I came across a little boy of a profoundly re
ligious turn of mind. Nothing pleased him so
much as being talked to about Heaven and Hell,
and the angels ot light and darkness.
“ Mother,” he said one day, “ when people
die do their souls go up ?”
“ Yes. my dear,” she answered,
“ And what color are they?”
His mother scarcely knew what to answer.
It’s so difficult to explain to a child;} so she an
swered perhaps injudiciously:
“Tho good have white souls, dear, and the
bad black.”
“ Quite black, mother—never spotted ?”
“No, dear.”
“ Not if they are only pretty good and pretty
bad, would they not be black and white then I”
“I think not, dear.”
The boy was not satisfied, and a neighbor
(Mrs. Baker) happening to fail dangerously ill ,
just then, he was most anxious in his inquiries
as to how she was, and whether we should call
her a good woman. One day a friend came in
and chanced to say that “ Mrs. Baker was ex
pected to breathe her last every moment.” The
words were no sooner out of her mouth than ■
Freddy rushed into the garden and began ;
watching Mrs. Baker’s house. In about a quar
ter of an hour he returned and electrified us
With these words:
“I’ve seen Mrs. Baker’s soul go up, and it’s :
piebald.”
Almost the sharpest person I ever met was a
tiny girl of about five years old. She would
treasure up phrases an'd quotations she had
heard other people make iise of, and bring
thorn out in the oddest way.
One evening her mother failed to do some
thing which she had been asked to do. Her
father made use of the quotation, “ ’Tis folly to
remember, and ’tis wisdom to forget.”
Quite an hour afterward the child’s nurse
came to take her to bed. She walked around
the room, said “good night” to every one, then
entered into an animated conversation with an
elderly man.
The nurse still stood at the door waiting for
the child, so her mamma called her.
“Baby, dear I”
No notice.
“Baby, dearl”
“ ’Es, mamma.”
“Have you forgotten that nurse is waiting#”
Such a wicked little face was turned round ;
such a knowing smile played round lierlips and
lurked within her eyes.
“ ’Tis folly to remember, and ’tis wisdom to
forget,” she said, then ran out of the room roar
ing with laughter at her own wit.
These four are the most droll little ones that
I ever met. Not now and then only wore they
funny, but almost continually, and I think they
have certainly the right to be called “Cute
Kids.”
DEATH OF A GAMBLER.
SHOT THROUGH THE HEART
WHILE TURNING A CARD.
(From the Denver (Colorado) News.)
“ I was just reading,” said a well-known Den
ver sport, “ about a man winking his eye after
his head was cut off, and I had an argument
with Tom Rowe, who said such a thing was im
possible. ;But Tom didn’t know. He never
saw a man’s head cut off. Now, I know that I
have seen something jiist as strange. I will
tell you about it. Twenty years ago this month
there was a lot of us took a trip to Old Mexico
to sec what we could scoop in—and, by the way,
wo got scooped—and went to bucking heavy on
every game wo could strike. Well, what I
started out to tell was about one of our gang
named Bill Brewster. Bill was a rattling dealer,
a good hand at short cards and always had a
pocket full of money till he got on Mexican
monte.
“ Talk about your greaser’s infatuation for
the game. I never saw one of them that could
hold a marker to Bill. He’d get broke. Then
he’d get a pack of cards and deal himself.
He’d turn the cards for anybody or anything
when he was busted. Sometimes he’d make a
raise and quit and go to playing faro, where he
was, as a rule, lucky. But no sooner did ho
get a big stake than he would tackle monte and
would invariably get downed. Us boys tried
to persuade him to stick to a white man’s game;
but no, he wouldn’t have it, and was almost all
the time in a chronic state of impecuniosty.
One day Bill had established himself in a
pulque shop with his cards and was turning
them for anybody who wanted to wager a cent.
There was a party of Mexican bloods in the
room, and finally they sauntered over to Bill’s
table, and one of them asked him if he would
turn for SIOO. Bill said he would, though ho
didn't have but ten dollars in the bank. The
fellow slaps down the money and Bill wins.
That made the Mexican mad and he slaps
down another. Bill wins again. The third
time and Bill scoops the pile. The Mexican
asked Bill if he would turn for him for SI,OOO,
and Bill told him it didn't make any difference
if he made it a million, as the bank was able to
pay ten times that amount. The Mexican bet
and lost. Then he accused Bill of cheating.
Bill called him a liar.
“ I was standing right to one side of Bill. He
had tho cards in his left hand, and had hold of
the bottom card with his right hand. The Mex
ican’s hand was on his gun.
“ 1 Hold on,’ said Bill, ‘ don’t draw till I make
this turn. I’ll bet you SI,OOO to SIOO that it’s
the seven of spades.’
“‘Done,’says the Mexican, who threw SIOO
on the table.
“Bill commenced pullingout the card slowly.
The Mexican was watching. There were two
biack spots showed up and Bill’s hand stopped.
Quick as a flash the Mexican drew his gun and
fired. Bill never moved in his chair, but his
right hand kept its slow motion until the card
was drawn from the pack and held up to view.
It was the seven of spades. The hand moved
slowly back again, and the card was laid on the
table. Bill then leaned back in his chair and
shut his eyes. We were all so excited when the
shot was tired that we didn't know what to do,
and as Bill continued to turn the card we sup
posed he hadn't been hit, but wo found out dif
ferently win-n wo examined him. He was shot
directly through the heart.
’ “Now, I reason the thing out this way: Bill
; was determined to convince that Mexican that
i he didn’t know as much as he thought ho did.
i That thought was in his mind when he was shot
and, though killed instantly, his wishes were
carried out after death. liill was game, too,
and I believe that if he hadn’t realized that he
was a dead man when shot, and hadn’t wanted
to win the Mexican’s money, he would have
grabbed his gun and done some execution with
it. That’s why I say a man can do a thing alter
he’s dead.”
WOMEN SUICIDES.
SOME OF THE REMARKABLE
FEATURES.
(Fi'orn the Chicago News.)
“ By her own hand, daring a fit of temporary
insanity,” is the usual verdict- rendered by a
coroner’s jury in cases of suicide by women.
Rarely, if ever, is the cause of the temporary
insanity inquired into, and the term covers a
multitude of reasons that a very Might investi
gation would bring to the surface, but in defer
ence to the wishes of friends, or at the sugges
tion of the coroner, the true reason for suicide
is left unsaid in the finding of the jury. “ She
was insane,” say the relatives, “ and wo can
imagine no other reason fox 1 the deed,” and
there the matter rests. When a suicide
occurs and the family or friends of the de
ceased aro approached before time has been
given to permit of a plausible theory being
made up, the truth is generally told. Thon it
is discovered that unrequited love, if tho sui
cide is a young girl, has much to do with the
case; domestic infelicity is by no means a rare
cause, and the case is an extraordiny one in
which a member of the opposite sex does not
figure as the direct, or at least, the contributing
cause of death.
A remarkable feature of suicide by women is
the painful manner m which they elect to end
their existence. When once the mind is made
up, to die, the method is of small moment.
Poison is some form or other is the most com
mon, and so little study as to what is the quick
est and the least painful is given, that if a box of
patent rat poison is at hand, it is taken without
any thought of its action on the tissues or the
pain it may cause. So, if prussic acid or
strychnine be the most available poison, it is
swallowed without compunction. A few in
stances are upon record in the last six months
of suicide by taking the various extractions of
opium, such as laudanum, morphia and the
like, but this and drowning are rare in com
parison with the more painful forms of suicide
by poison selected by women. Instances of
death by means of hanging and shooting are
numerous, but poison is in the lead as tho fa
vorite method.
There is upon the Coroner’s book the record
of eighteen suicides since January Ist, ten of
which are of single women under thirty-five
years old, and seven of these are under’ twenty
years pld. With the exception of about five
cases, where the reason is unknown, temporary
insanity is the only cause given for the act-, and
this is so invariably the rule that it is plainly a
cover for something which, if made public,
would be disagreeable to the family of the
suicide, or reflect on the honor of some person
near to her during life. The recent case of the
young miss who drowned herself in Garfield
Park lake, on account of a love affair with a
youth in the same school, is put on record as
temporary insanity. In the list of deaths two.
are found to have cut their throats, a remark
able manner of ending life for a woman to
adopt, for timidity and aversion to blood-letting
is a trait in the character of the sex. A careful
search of the record showed that those who
were proved to be partially insane at the time
of death took the most violent means of suicide,
as jumping from a fourth-story window,
shooting in the head, and hanging, while those
whose conduct previous to deatn had not shown
any symptoms of aberration Of mind selected
the most potent poisons that were known to
them, or drowning, as the most desirable forms
of death. The aversion to the disfigurement of
the person, or the possibility of their features
being distorted and made repugnant, may have
much to do with the manner in which a woman
commits suicide, but the one fact remains, that
whatever method is adopted is usually certain
in its result, and no halt-way attempts, followed
by repentance for the folly of it, are found
among women, as with men. The latter have
more attempts at suicide to their credit than
women, but the actual accomplishment of the
deed is greater among females,
MARY, QUEeFoFsCOTS.
A LIFE OF STRANGE INCIDENTS
AND MANY MARRIAGES.
Mary Stuart, daughter of James V. of Scot
land and Mary of Lorraine, was born at Linlith
gow, December Bth, 1542, eight days previous
to the death of her father. When she was six
years old she was affianced to Francis, the Dau
phin of France, in which country sho was edu
cated as a Roman Catholic.
Ten years afterward she was married, with
all the honors of the French Court. In tho fol
lowing year, 1559, Henry 11. died, and Francis
became king, as Francis 11. By this event
Mary became Queen of Scotland and France.
She also claimed the throne of England after
the death of Queen Mary, and took the title of
Queen of England and Scotland, basing her
claim upon the fact that her father, James V.
of Scotland, was a son of James IV. and
Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry VII. of
England, and that Henry VIII. had disowned
Elizabeth.
Unfortunately, Francis lived only a year after
his coronation, and the French crown fell to
Charles IV.
After his death Mary returned to Scotland.
In 1565 she was married to Henry Stuart, Lord
Darnley, a man of vile habits, but a friend and
relative of Queen Elizabeth, with whom Mary
desired to be at peace.
She soon, however, became disgusted with
her dissolute husband, and in his stead admit
ted into her councils Rizzio, an Italian adven
turer of marked ability in some respects, but
unpopular with the Scotch nobility and people.
In time Darnley and several young nobles
seized Rizzio in the queen’s presence, dragged
him from her table, and assassinated him.
The queen effected the punishment of the
except her husband, to whom she
apparently became reconciled; but as he was
killed soon after this by an explosion ot gun
powder beneath the house in which he lay sick,
and three months afterward she was married to
Bothwell, the chief conspirator against her hus
band, she was accused of consenting to the as
sassination.
A rebellion was raised, Bothwell was defeated
at Carberry, and Mary was captured and com
pelled to abdicate. Escaping from Lochleven
Castle, May 2, 1568, she rallied about her a new
army, which was soon defeated and dispersed,
and Mary fled to England, supplicating aid of
Elizabeth.
The queen, however, had never forgiven Mary
for claiming her throne.
The fugitive queen was put under arrest, and
for nearly nineteen years was imprisoned, until
February 1, 1587, when, having been charged,
on slight grounds, with plotting against the
peace of the realm, and having been, after a
prejudiced hearing, found guilty, she was ruth
lessly executed.
Indians Love Grasshoppers. —Says
the Chico Enterprise: The unusually large
number of grasshoppers this Spring, and the
excitement they have caused with our local
newspaper itemizsrs, will now be calmed. The
Indians have started in with twig-brooms and
are driving them into round holes which they
dig in the ground. The modus operandi can be
seen up Chico creek, near the Rancho Chico
sheep camp, on tho plains, where ten or twelve
bands of five or six Indians in each, are at
work. The first operation is to dig a funnel
shaped hole three feet across and about three
feet deep, then the band scatter out on a skir
mish lino in different directions, and commence
sweeping and “driving” the hoppers toward
the pithole, and by working around in a circle
they gradually drive a good share of the orthop
teroys insects toward and into the hole, from
which the poor hoppers “ can no’er come out
again,” until the frugal mahala lifts them out
into a wheat sack. The crawling, jumping mass
in the pit, when the “ drive ” is done, would do
any vengeful granger good, as he thinks of tho
horrid fate in store for his enemies, to be roast
ed to death at some Indian restaurant. The
process of cooking is unique, if not elegant.
Hot stones are put into the sack and they are
carefully shaken backward and forward to
gether until the logs and wings of the hoppers
are broken and burned off, when they aro
served without Sauce in all the “ Lo ” caravan
saries, and considered a great luxury. We
were informed by a young buck that they were
milch better than white man’s shrimps, and ho
' thought not so repulsive. Gen. Bidwell says
the roasted hopper ground into meal is to the
Digger family what a jar of quince preserves is
to the child of the pale face.
The First Folio Shakespeare.—The
most famous ot early English books, the first
folio Shakespeare, bears date 1623, though odd
ly enough the Litehtield-Baker copy, now in the
Lenox Library at New York, carries the date
1622. The publication price was £l. It is esti
mated that there are still between three and four
hundred copies extant; but there are very few,
probably not more than from twenty-five to
thirty, in their original condition, with nothing
wanting and nothing patched. About 1750,,
Garrick gave £1 It's, to Payne for a copy, which
was sold at the Jolley sale in 1811 for £B6, In
1790 the Duke of Roxburghe had paid £35 14s.
for his copy. In 1818 G.Grannie purchased Saun
ders’s copy for £121165., “ the highest price
ever given, or likely to be given,” said Dibdin.
But in 1847 Wilks bought Hibbert’s copy for
£155, and in 1854 the same copy was bought by
Lilly for £250. In 1864, at George Daniel’s sale
the Baroness Burdett-Couts gave £716 2s. for
the Daniel Moore copy; and last year Miss Ab
by E. Hanscom, of Brooklyn, paid £795 for a
copy procured through Ellis & White, of Lon
don. This suggests a reference to the fact that
tho highest prices ever paid were paid by three
women—the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, Miss Ab
by Hanscom,and Mrs. John Carter Brown. The
last-named, an American lady, paid £SOO for a
copy which she obtained in 1879 through Ellis
A White, ot London. In a recent catalogue
Quaritch offers a very superior copy for £BBO.
It is believed by.experts that in Irom five to ten
years the best copies will be worth £I,OOO each.
A Strange Story from-Khartoum.—
1 The special correspondent of the Sheffield Daily
Telegraph, at Cairo, gives the following remark
able story:
A Coptic merchant, who was one of the few
men who managed to escape from Khartoum
after the massacre, has arrived here, after a
long and painful journey, and has made a most
astounding statement to the authorities. He
asserts in the most positive manner, partly from
his own observation, and partly from informa
tion supplied to him on the spot by credible
eye-wjtnesses, that shortly after the massacre
which followed the entry of the rebels, and be
fore the terrible confusion resulting therefrom
had subsided, the Mahdi, hearing that Gordon
had been slain, ordered his head to be brought
before him. The rebels at once produced the
bead of Herr Hansal, the Austrian Consul,
which was at first accepted as that of the gal-
I lant Gordon. But as it lay upon the ground it
was recognized by one of the rebels who know
Hansal well, and a hue and cry for Gordon was
I at ouce raised. The city was scoured by parties
of the rebels, and every .European corpse was
I examined, but without result. Indeed, no trace
could bo_ found either of Gordon or of Abou
gatas, a rich merchant, long resident in Khar
toum, oy of Gordon’s two canvases. Neither
were any documents found, and the most dili
gent search failed to bring to light any of the
clothing usually worn by Gordon. The nar
rator therefore believes that there is at least a
slight chance that Gordon may have made good
his escape, and that lie has fled south, in the
direction of Senaar. 1 have seen the Coptic
merchant referred to, and can testify that he is
a smart, honest-looking man. whom one would
be inclined to trust.
Celery Cures Rheumatism.—A Ger
correspondent of an English paper writes
as follow's: “I have had a severe attack of in
flammatory rheumatism, and was healed in two
days time by soup rhade of the stalks and roots
of celery, therefore I desire to make this sim
ple remedy known through the columns of your
valuable paper for the benefit of all suffering
from gout or rheumatism of any form. Now
discoveries—or what claim to be discoveries—
of the healing virtues of plants are continually
being made. One of the latest is that celery is
a cure for rheumatism; indeed, it is assorted
the disease is impossible if the vegetable be
cooked and freely eaten. The fact that it is
always put on the table raw prevents its thera
peutic powers from being known. The celery
should be cut into bits, boiled in water until
soft, and the water drank by the patient. Serve
warm with pieces of toasted bread, and the
painful ailment will soon yield. Such is the
declaration of a physician who has again and
again tried the experiment, and with uniform
success. At least two-thirds of the cases named
‘ heart disease’ are ascribed to rheumatism and
its agonizing ally, gout. Smallpox, so much
dreaded, is not half so destructive as rheuma
tism, which, it is maintained by many physi
cians, can be prevented by obeying Nature’s
laws in diet. Here, in Germany, we boil tho
roots and stalks, as the root is the principal
part of it, and afterward eat it as salad, with oil
and vinegar. I received such immediate bene
fit that I am anxious to let all the rheumatic
sufferers know of it.”
A Surgeon’s Discovery.—ln 1878 a
distinguished surgeon of Paris, Dr. Tarnier,
visiting an establishment for hatching chickens,
established in the Garden of Acclimation in
Paris, was struck with tho idea of using the
same sort of apparatus for infants born prema
turely, or having a very weak constitution. This
brooder, or “couveuse,” was destined for the
Maternity Hospital of Paris, where it was first
put into use in November, 1881. The results
obtained are worthy of attention. From Novem
ber, 1881, to July, 1883, there were treated by
this method 151 infants, of whom ninety-one
had been prematurely born, and the others
very feeble. A healthy infant born at full time
weighs about 3,500 grams. Those infants which
at birth weigh less than 2,000 grams are con
sidered as very feeble; that is, it is more proba
ble that they will die than that they will live.
Statistics show for such infants a mortality of
about sixty-five per cent. With the couveuse,
out of the ninety-two infants prematurely born,
thirty-one died‘and sixty-one lived. The time
w’hich an infant is kept in the couveuse varies
from one day to six weeks, according to its con
dition. One infant born nearly three months
before full time was kept forty days in the cou
veuse, and lived.
Something about Sapphires.—Asteria,
or star sapphires, are very rare and extremely
beautiful. They are of a pale blue, and the
faces of their six-sided prisms are shot with
thread-like shafts, or veins, which reflect the
light in the form of a star of six rays. It is
supposed that these threads are produced by
vacuities left among the molecules of the mine
ral at the moment of their crystalization.
Among the Burdett-Coutts jewels are two mag
nificent star sapphires, estimated at $150,000.
Notwithstanding the extreme hardness of the
sapphires, tho ancients, who valued all success
in proportion to its difficult attainment, and
who liked to impress with their handiwork the
fairest specimens of nature, have left as souve
nirs of their skill some wonderfully beautiful
engraved sapphires. One represents a woman’s
figure enveloped in drapery. The stone is one
of two tints, and the artist has skillfully used
the dark tint for the woman and the light tints
for tho drapery. This gem is among the crown
jewels of Russia. The Strozzi cabinet at Rome
contains an intaglio representing the profilo of a
young Hercules by Cueins, and in the cabinet of
France is an intaglio profile of the Emperor
Perthiax.
An Inveterate Gambler. —Iliad. Ste
vens was an inveterate gambler, writes Ben
Perley Poore. Ono who had met him in the
haunts of “The Tiger” described him as having
played for excitement, not caring whether he
won or lost. Like Fox, who described winning
at hazard as the greatest pleasure in life, and
losing at the same game as the next greatest,
Stevens lost and won with the same apparent
indifference. He played with consummate cool
ness, never lost his temper, and never increased
the amount of his bet either to retrieve his losses
or more rapidly to increase his winnings. His
sarcastic remarks upon the discomposure of bis
fellow players, who sometimes exclaimed with
rage and profanity at their ill luck, were always
witty as well as cutting. While they were eat
ing and drinking with the voracity of cormo
rants, he never indulged in anything more stim
ulating than a cracker and a sip of water. The
contrast between his coolness and apparent ap
athy and the eager, fierce excitement of others
sitting at the same table and engaged in the
same pursuit, was amazing.
A Marvelous Glock.—Ona of the
most curious clocks ever exhibited in Salt Lake
can now be seen in the window of Hollander’s
jewelry store, says the Salt Lake City Tribune.
The dial is a strip of glass about six inches
wide, extending across the window, upon which
are painted in rotation the hours of the day
from one to twelve. Stretched across the win
dow, just above the glass, is a fine wire, upon
which is perched a little bird with outstretched
wings. This bird glides across the wire, point
ing with its beak to the dial figure below, and
at the end of every twelve hours files back to
its starting place. Much speculation is in
dulged in by the public as to the motive power
that causes the bird io travel back aud forth, as
the wire on which it is perched is stationary,
and there is no connection whatever with any
mechanism. Mr. Hollander is the inventor of
this curious, contrivance, and states that he
spent three years in studying it out.
Opium fob Horses. — The Western
Medical Reporter says a grocer who had an
aged and disabled horse wished to get rid of
him by as painless a death as possible, and
gave him forty grains of morphine. Having
made preparations for the funeral, the grocer
proceeded to the stable, where, to his astonish
ment, he found the horse in excellent spirits
and eating his oats with his iormer habitual
haste, so as to be ready for the early trip to
market. Opium is said to have been used suc
cessfully in India for many years in relieving
horses irom the consequences of old age and
overwork.
Oregon Fashions. —In the Heppner
hills this season the recherche thing in overalls
is to have the pocket corners braided in lieu of
ths copper rivets that were en regie last season.
They are worn either stuffed in the boots or
outside. An elite thing in watch chains is a
wide buckskin strap worn dangling from the
pocket and ornamented with a stud horse poker
chip. It also works for a ranch razor strap.
An esthetic rustic substitute for a button is a
shingle nail or a piece of sharpened stick poked
through a gallus hole. This style is very
popular on some ranches, but it is a bad thing
to fall down on.
The Fight
against that feeling of indolence and de
bility, common to every one in the
spring and summer months, is of no avail
without the aid of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla,
By its use, impurities are expelled from
the blood, and new life is infused iato tb.e
veins. It stimulates and strengthens all
the digestive and assimilative organs.
C, A. Wheeler, Hotel Clifford, Boston,
glass., says; “A few bottles of Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla, taken in the spring, make me
feel well and strong the whole year.”
C. J. Bodemer, 145 Columbia st., Cam*
bridgeport, Nass., says: “I have gone
through terrible suffering from dyspepsia;
but I have cured myself, and saved a
great deal of money in doctors’ bills, by
tho use of
Ayer’s Sar
laparilla.” It will help you.
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Dowell, Mass., XT. 8- A.
For sale by all druggists. Price $1; six Bottles fair
— ; ....
~ I i» Is .T HE Blue ?—Says Prof. Lantr
h4 may be a8 ! !ad ' what suggested the idea
“ “ ay b ? b! ! 16 rather than any other
n ring the heal
? ffW f « different parts of the sun’s disk,
t if‘ s ntn i ? tho BU, .‘ h , as an atmosphere of
t ts own which tempers its heat, and by cutting
a off certain radiations and not others produces
1 Th» sp i ?tral 11,108 wa ara all la “iliar With!
' • ® s ® 11,168 wo customarily study in connection
e ■"'[th the absorbing vapors of sodium, iron etc
5 which produces them; but my own attention
- was particularly given to tho regions of ab
i sorption, or to tho color it caused, and I found
i that the sun s body must be deeply bluish, and
t that it would shed blue light, except for this
i apparently colorloss solar atmosphere, which
’r y piays tbe part of a reddish vail, letting a
- little of the blue appear on tho centre of the
t sun s disk where it is thinnest, aud staining tho
' edge red, so that to delicate tests tho centre of.
i the snn is a pale acquamarino and its edge a
5 garnet. The effect 1 found to bo so important that.
’ kut invisible solar atmosphere were?
> diminished by but a third part, the tempera
turo of the British Islands would rise above tliafi v
ot the torrid zone, and this directed my atten
tion to too groat practical importance of study-
• mg tho action of our own terrestrial atmosphere
> on the sun, and the antecedent probability thaft
our own air was also and independently making
[ one rea^y klu® sun into an apparently white
>
: The Soudan Campaign.—Ono who
i accompanied the English troops in the Soudara
Y r ? .. 8 to the London Standard some hideous
details of tho campaign. When going fromt
buakin, he says, the last three miles of the
march were marked at every step by graves-.
Arab and Indian, so shallow that from all ooze®
dark and hideous stains, and from many pro
truded mangled feet, half-stripped grinnin®
skulls, or ghastly hands, still clenched in thd*
death agony, though reduced to little more than?
bone and smew. The ground was also thickly
sown with hands and feet dragged from theipj
graves by the hyenas, and the awful stench an®
reek of carrion which loaded tho air wiM never
be forgotten, as 1 think, by any of us. Day after;
day we passed and repassed over tho same sick*?
emng scene with our convoys, in blinding duejtf
and under a scorching sun, obliged to move at
a foot s paco to keep up with tho weary camels,
and to pick our stops carefully for tear of sud
denly setting foot on one of those droadfuK
heaps of corruption.
A Congress of Philologists.—A Con 4
gross of Philologists will soon assemble in Vienna
to persuade the world to adopt a universal lan
guage. Tho scheme is by no means novel, Irr
the thirteenth century a Toulousian monk
named Roger worked very hard to convince hid*
contemporaries that it would be to the advan
tage ot humanity if a tonguo of his own invent
tion wore generally spoken. But his mongref
jargon was more wordy than French, and near
ly twice as diffuse as Greek, and, although thef
apostle of reform wrote several books in ths
now language, there is no record that any one!
save himself ever knew exactly what they treats
ed of. The Vienna Congress will not try to
foist Roger’s system upon tho nations, but it is
just possible that it will recommend for univerv
sal adoption an artificial language called “Vol*
apuk,” which is said to have been devised by
an enthusiastic Wurtemburg clergyman.
Why They Stole.—The police of SM
Petersburg have been for some time puzzled b$
the conduct of a remarkable class of thieves*
who committed robbery not only in the open
day, but, moreover, with ostentation. They?
were Finns, and were all young men. When?
arrested they calmly pleaded guilty, and wore,
sentenced to imprisonment for terms varying?
from one to three months. At the expiration o?
the sentence they promptly disappeared. 10
turned out that they had returned to their owm
country and had there resumed their several
vocations without loss of social position. Tha
law of Finland forbids the enrollment in the?
army of any persons who have undergone im*|
prisonment for civil offenses, so these enter*;
prising Finns had deliberately sought impritfr
onment in order to avoid conscription.
Over-Indulgent Mothers. —A fifteen 4
year-old miss of Buffalo who was recently re->1
proved by her teacher for being remiss in the?
preparation of her studios, pleaded that her en
gagements prevented her from studying. “Tout
ought to be m bed every night at 9 o'clock,” ex 4
claimed the surprised teachor. With a decided!
sniff the indolent pupil said, “I always go ouß
. three evenings in the week, but mother won't?
let me stay out later than 12.” This case incites?
the Buffalo Commercial Advertiser to deliver S
long homily on the foolishness of mothers who?
tolerate, it, indeed, they do not encourage, ways!
of life in their children’that can only produce!
harmful results. If all mothers were thus?
foolishly indulgent, the evil produced would be?
incalculable, but happily the Buffalo caae stands?
almost alone.
Slavery in Africa.—Stanley, in hi*
book, tells of finding in the vicinity of about!
900 miles inland from Leopoldville, Africa, a.'
band of slave-traders having in their
sion 2,300 captives. “ Both banks of the river,’ 1 *
ho says, “ showed that 118 villages and forty-?
three districts had been devastated, out of?
which were educed 2,300 females and children,-
and about 2,000 tusks of ivory. To obtain thesa
they must have shot 2,500 people, while 1,300?
more died by the wayside. How many ara
wounded and die in the forest, or drop to death?
through an overwhelming sense of their calami,
i ties, we do not know, but the outcome from the/
territory, with its millions of souls, must be#
5,000 slaves, obtained at an expense of 33,00$
lives 1” _
Flirtation Among the Mexicans'.—/
Though the laws of propriety are so rigorously;!
strict that a gentleman may not ride in the?
same carriage with the lady to whom he is be-i
trothed, yet most deliberate flirtations are»
openly indulged in to an extent which would?
put to blush New York, Chicago or San Fran-/
cisco. Following a senorita up and down the.
promenade and staring intently in her face is
an accepted mode of compliment— doubtless,
gratifying to tho recipient, but fraught witlij
danger to the adorer it she happens to havq
other devoted swains—and it not infrequently"
happens that duels are the result, she being;,
pre-eminently tne belle who can boast the great?
cr number of such encounters. '
The Treatment of Pbarls.—Pearlw
deteriorate by age, contact with acids, gas, andl
noxious vapors of all sorts. A leading importer!
advisee that pearl necklaces, which are liable to?
deteriorate by coming in contact with the skin J
be restrung once a year, as drawing tho silks
thread out and in through the pierced parts!
tends to cleanse pearls. In Ceylon, we are as-4
sured on fairly good authority that when it isf
desired to restore the lustre to oriental
the pearls are allowed to be swallowed by chick-?
ens. The fowls with this precious diet are thend .
killed, and the pearls regained in a white ands\
lustrous state. ’
The First Silver Coin.—The firsts
coin ever issued in this country was the old-s
fashioned eart-wheel cent. Tho first issue wasji
in 1793, and there were three dies made. WitM
the single exception of the year 1815, there has®
been no break in the issue of cents from thaw
time to the present. It was in 1794 that the!
liberty cap was changed to the fillet head, andf
these were issued regularly for thirteen years-;
when the Goddess of Liberty appeared on thej
coin, with thirteen stars surrounding it. A cent?
of the issue of 1799, in good condition, is worths
$lO to SSO.
Curious Preferences. —The inhab-v
Hants of Cochin China prefer rotten eggs to,.
fresh ones. The Tonquinese and inhabitants ot;
Madagascar prefer locusts to tho finest fish. Inf
Australia a good fat gull would be preferred to!
anything else; in the West Indies a large cater-,
pillar found on the palm tree is considered a.
luxury, while the edible nests ot the Java swaW
lows are so rich a dainty that tho ingredients off
a dish would cost several dollars. '
A New Industry.—There are many-,
novel ways of making a dime, but the last jus?;
inaugurated by the Mexican boys of Yuma caps;
the climax. It is the selling of smoke in oldj
tin cans from the burning of a weed called?
“ hediondia.” They go from house to house,,
and offer to furnish enough smoke to drive,
the mosquitoes away for the small sum of tents
cents. ■„
Curious Floral Adornments. — A.-
lamb of white roses, with one red rose in itsj
breast, into which a floral knife had been stuck,
was the “tribute” sent to the funeral ot a Bos-'
ton butcher, while for the funeral of a cook a,
Boston hotelkeeper sent a floral cook-stovo,,
with pots and gridiron.
Renewed
strength and vigor follow the use o®
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. Mrs. Ann H. Ferns?-
worth, a lady 79 years old, So, Woodstock,,
Vt., writes: “After suffering for- weeks.
With prostration, I procured a. bottle of;
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, and before I hadi
taken half of it my usual health returned,’’
Thos. M. McCarthy, 36 Winter kt., Powell,
Nass., writes: “ I have been troubled, few
years, with nervousness, and pains about?
my heart, especially in the morning. I
also suffered greatly from debility-. I have,
been cured by Ayer’s Sawapaxiltet, and
am now able to do very hard work.’?
Henry H. Pavis, Nashua, N. H.>, wi'itest
“ I have found relief from that feeling «
languiduess, prevalent during the springs
by taking Ayer’s Sar*
saparilla.
I have taken it for years.” s