New York dispatch. [volume], February 21, 1886, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
WHEN SHALL I DIE?
BI ROBERT E. WRIGHT,
{'•Teach mo to know mine end, and the measure
Of my days what it is.”]
"Where shall I die ? Shall dear friends gather round
me
To wipe the “ death sweat ” from my throbbing
brow ?
Shall those I love in sadness then surround me,
As true, as kind, as loving then as now ?
Or shall some stranger hand, when all is ended,
With careless touch close up my fading eye,
Far from my homo, unwept and unattended ?
Father oi Life, oh, say, where shall I die ?
How shall I die ? Shall pain and anguish smite me
And rack my frame with sharp relentless band?
Shall slow disease, with gentle force, invito me
To leave this world and join the spirit band ?
Or shall I fall, as fell the star of morning,
Suddenly and swift from out the cairn clear sky,
Without one hint—one gentle, timely warning ?
Father of Life, oh, say, how shall I die ?
When shall I die? Shall age and honors crown me
Before the summons issues from thy throne ?
Or shall I fall with midday’s sun around me,
When life is sweetest and it s use best known ?
Or shall my youth, with all its warm affections,
Sink in the grave, in darkness there to lie,
Blighted in bud and flower—before fruition?
Father of Life, oh, say, when shall 1 die ?
•Hush,” Oh, my soul, away with this repining,
This anxious fear about thy stay on earth;
Pause, and with heart in calm, meek love reclining,
Submit thy death to Him who gave thee birth,
He who first called thee to immortal being,
Child of the earth, to rear thee for the sky,
Walks by thy side, thy every footstep seeing.
Knows when and where and how ’tia best to die.
A WBMM MMWff.
BY ETTIE ROGERS.
’•You are to eee my sister Prissie at last—she
is coming here lor a long visit. And Cousin
Sophronia is to bo married next month, and we
aro asked to the wedding,” Mrs. I'arckley an
nounced, as she laid down the letter she had
just read and turned to impart the items ol
family nows to her husband, who was placidly
perusing his morning paper.
“Eh? What’s that?” ho ejaculated, as he
dropped h’s paper and hurriedly consulted his
watch, as it he had been reminded that ho was
due at his office, and of which fact ho had al
lowed himself to become grossly oblivions.
“ We are invited to Sophronia’s wedding,” re
iterated tlio lady, abbreviating her interesting
gossip, as she noted his desperate baste to be
gone. “We must not send excuses, I suppose ?”
“Do just as you like, Carrie. I shall agree
to anything which pleases you, of course,” he
declared, cheerfully.
“ Well, then, we’ll go, Lem. Put I must have
a new gown though,” she said, brightly.
“You must have no such thing,” he hastened
to respond, decisively. “You have plenty of
pretty dresses good enough for the occasion,
and besides 1 could not possibly afford such an
expense just now.” - .
I have nothing at all but my old aurora pink
Batin and the laded golden-brown velvet and
my black silk,” she dissented, not very meekly.
•‘Black is a hideous impossibility for a wadding,
and I can get something lovely in heliotrope or
Bronze-green, which would be good enough, lor
fifty dollars, if I do the making myself and
utilize the laces I have already.”
“Fifty dollars!” he echoed, as if he were
amazed at the enormity of such a suggestion.
“I couldn’t spare you fifty dimes, Carrie. When
business is so dull and money is so scarce you
would be willing to deny yourself nonsensi
cal extravagances, I should think.”
“I don’t indulge in cigars and wino suppers
and all that, though,” she retorted, in a voice
cot precisely facetious.
“ I am astonished, Carre, I am astounded,
my dear, at your inconsideration, at your lack
ol perception,” he returned with an air of vast
in jury. “I do not know how you can begrudge
me such a small comfort as an occasional cigar
when lam working hard lor you all day in a
depressing office. And a wine supper is some
times a matter of business, my dear, but of
course you are not expected to understand any
thing about that! but a man must once in a
while make some show of good fellowship if he
Wishes to prosper, my dear.”
Perhaps the argument was sufficiently con
vincing to her inferior understanding, tor she
lot him depart without venturing contradiction
or comment.
But she looked rather melancholy and alto
gether nettled as she sat before her dainty
worktable and listened to the lordly footsteps,
Bounding farther and farther away down the
pavement.
“ There is nothing so provoking as to have
one’s absolute wants always criticised rs ex
travagant notions; there is nothing so humili
ating as to be obliged to have a dispute or never
get what one really needs; I had rather never
nave a gown than plead and parley as if I wore
begging some extraordinary favor instead of
requiring what is a necessity and a right,” she
thought,Jas indignant tears, thicker and faster,
splashed down upon the glossy bosom of the
shirt, to which she was dutilully endeavoring
to affix the inveterately detached buttons.
She was too engrossed with the buttons and
the provocations to hear the soft rustle of a
silken cloak behind her, or to see the slim
shadow ol an exceedingly pretty girl, who had
mischievously tip-toed across the room and just
then stopped between her and the sunny win
dow.
But presently two roguish hands were inter
locked before her wet eyes, and two sly red
lips pressed a merry kiss upon her frowning
forehead.
Mrs. Parckley, however, was not so easily
Beared by such affectionate trickery.
“ Trieste,” she said quietly, but with a sud
den joyful inflection in her tearful voice.
“ Yes; and I thought I should surprise you,”
said Prissie, pouting prettily with mimical
offense, although there was unconcealable sis
terly anxiety in her softly sparkling dark eyes.
“ But you have surprised me instead, Carrie
Parckley, I must say, I have a mind to go
straightway back this blessed minute—l have
indeed! I had anticipated meeting the most
ecstatically happy wife in the whole wide world,
and the most sweetly adoring husband ! and
here you are, looking as desolate as a Chinese
widow, baptizing his shirt bosoms in cataracts
of tears. What on earth is the matter any how,
Carrie ?”
There was no evading a query so direct and
blunt; and that Miss Prissie had determined,
then and there, to ascertain the truth, and
nothing but the truth, could not be doubted.
“ There isn’t anything the matter—at least
there isn’t anything worth raentiioning,” stam
mered Carrie, smiling a little at the raillery,
and comforted a little, too, by the undertone of
sympathetic concern. “I wanted some new
finery for Sophronia’s wedding, and poor Lem
couldn’t spare the money, that is all.”
“Poor Lem is greatly to bo pitied,” Prissie
declared, with unblushing irony. “ I am
plraid, Carrie, the woman’s rights people have
missed a bright ornament in not having se
cured you.”
“I could never parley and wrangle about
what I ought to have,” Mrs. Parckley sighed,
with dubious resign?tion.
“ N<Jr I. 1 never could and I never shall,”
Prissie admitted with delightful candor. “ I
just take my rights every time, severally and
collectively, without scruple or controversy or
“But, Prissie, you have no dear husband
whoso circumstances and inclinations you must
consult, you know,” Mrs. Parckley said, with a
recurrence of wifely dignify, and as seriously
as it that sort of consultation had always been
to her a solemn joy.
“I only wish I had yours to manage, though,”
Baid Prissie. “ I wish you would give me leave
to do as 1 like for the remainder of the day ! —
you shall have your wedding garment, I will
promise you.”
“ 1 shouldn’t like him to make any sacrifices
nor to have his feelings hurt,” Mrs. Parckley
demurred, with some distrust of anything
strategic which might be concocted by her
prankish young sister.
“Oh, the poor fellow shall make no sacri
fices, and I wouldn’t hurt his dear feelings lor
the world,” Prissie avowed, with some sinceri
ty, perhaps, even if she was so saucily ironic
and her voice so instinct with fun and mystery.
•‘ It you want your gown without any more
fussing or fuming, just give me license to man
age your Lemuel lor a little while. Where
does he keep his wardrobe and gewgaws and
all that
Mrs. Parckley looked somewhat amused and
puzzled and very inconvincible; but that Miss
Prissie had an irresistible gift of persuasion,
there is not the slightest doubt.
Some time later that day, Mr. Lemuel Parck
ley was sitting in his office, resting, perhaps,
momentarily from his depressing and ‘arduous
labors, his feet reposing on his desk, and a
choice cigar between his lips. He was occupied
with a book—something of the scarlet and boom
ing order—which he possibly deemed especially
refreshing when business was so onerous and
dull, when the door was timidly opened to ad
mit a living vision which ho fancied the pretti
est he had ever beheld.
She looked so innocent and piquant, so shy,
and yet so fearless, so altogether charming
even if her attire was old and frayed and not at
all befitting the wearer.
The attire seemed somehow familiar, too,
which notion seemed explained when she an
nounced that he was not entirely unknown to
her.
She knew him as a philanthropist in his own
diffident and unacknowledged fashion', as a gen
tleman who never declined to aid people who
were needy and distressed. And she had come
in behalf of a dear, sweet lady, whose needs
were distressing indeed.
The sweet, hapless lady, had a big, selfish,
ugly husband, who had left her—actually left
her in absolute want of what was most neces
sary. And she was such a foolish, tender little
■wife, she would never fight for her rights ; she
did not want him punished; he might turn from
the error of his ways and do better by-and-by !
But, in the meantime, she was suffering from a
positive want.
“But she ought to have him punished ; such
& man does not deserve a wife ! A husband
worthy of the name, will never permit his wife
to want for anythin"—even if the want were the
most trifling and insignificant,” Mr. Parckley
hastened to declare with fervent indignation.
•‘ And I shall be pleased to relieve her pressing
peed—if only tb gratify her charming friend,”
he added, with gallantry and an admiring glance
at his bewitching visitor.
“ I did not mean to ask alms, precisely,” she
Oxplaimed with a bewildering smile. “But I
should like to dispose of. a diamond scarf-pin,
which she only values because it has been worn
by some one who once loved her. The stone is
genuine, and it is worth seventy-five dollars, I
should think.”
“It is worth double that, and more,” he re
marked candidly, as he inspected the jewel,
which, with a’suddenly and oddly-embarrassed
blush, she had placed on the desk beside him.
“ I do not know as I should care to purchase it,
however; I already have something of the
kind. I might conveniently advance the amount
you mentioned; there is a possibility of your
friend some time desiring to reclaim it. But”—
and then ho hesitated—not because busi
ness was so lamentably stagnant and his ex
chequer ro deplorably depleted, but because
ho had just begun to ponder whether he would
risk a transaction so absurdly un-business-like,
and all for the sake of a too charming vision
with a bewildering smile and a beguiling voice.
But the voice and the vision triumphed, and
his visitor presently departed with an exultant
sparkle beneath her demurely-lowered lashes
and a roll of fresh and crisp bank-notes tucked
snugly in the pocket of the worn old jacket she
had appropriated from a peg in the Parckley
garret.
“ I have done a rather idiotic thing, I sup
pose, but the girl was so uncommonly pretty !
I am not sure I should choose to have Carrie
know anything about the transaction ; but then
it is only a bit of business which she isn’t ex
pected to understand, of course,”;ho cogitated,
as some time later he walked back to his house
and entered the pleasant room he had left a lew
hours before.
Mrs. Parckley was still sitting be p ore her
dainty work-table, but she was no longer en
grossed with rebellious tears and vexatious
buttons. The wifely countenance was radiant,
and she was jubilantly surveying the yet uncut
glory of the coveted heliotrope silk which had
been unrolled in a glistening volume upon a
chair beside her.
Mr. Parckley frowned severely ; of course his
shrewd and comprehensive perceptions grasped
the truth of the matter at once. Mrs. Parckley
had been indulging her nonsensical extrava
gances by the ruinous system of credit!
“I am amazed, Carrie ; I am astonished, my
dear, at your lack of consideration—at your
foolish expenditure—when business is so dull
and money so scarce. And I most emphatically
disapprove of such rash and expensive whims,
at any time, my dear,” ho began, with magis
terial austerity.
But just then a silken skirt rustled near him;
there was a little sound suspiciously like a girl
ish titter, and he turned to confront the auda
cious and beguiling Prissie—the naughty con
spirator, who had planned soiling him his own
diamond pin that his wife might have the need
ed dress he grudged her 1
“ I believe my sister has already made her
self acquainted with you, Lem,” his wife said
somewhat nervously, and as if she were nobly
resisting a wicked temptation to smile.
“ I rather—believe—believe she has,” said he,
conscious of a wild yearning to become instan
taneously invisible, and co remain for evermore.
“And l am rather afraid, Miss Prissie, you re
ally intended to sell something beside the scarf
pin to-day,” said be, attempting a pretense of
hilarity, and looking as if he felt the nonplus
sing jest not altogether undeserved.
“ And didn’t Ido it nicely? You know, when
you went away this raornijjg you did leave your
wife in want—in want of a wedding I
meant of .course,” Prissie said, coaxing, as »he
lifted her saucy lips for a kiss of amity.
“ Well, I don't purpose to spoil your little
joke,” he answered, with a heroic effort to regain
his equanimity. “But I might though, if I
should intimate I recognized Carrie’s old jacket
and a scarf-pin which happened to be my own.
I might hint I am not idiot enough to advance
money on my own property; but [ could not be
iingallant enough to do that! I prefer to let
you enjoy your pleasantry, you know.”
The modest speech was not appreciated evi
dently; the saucy Prissie laughed outright, and
Mrs. Parckley smiled incredulously.
“ I fancy in the future I shall get my gowns
without an exhortation upon the scarcity of
money,” Mrs. Parckley thought with some not
unnatural satisfaction.
nuMOKoTriiE hour.
BY THE DETBOIT FBES PRE33 FIEND.
NATURAL GAS.
A Pittsburg, Pa., man was heard io remark
to a friend the other day :
“ Say, ’Arry, me boy, do you want to know
how to raise some dust ?”
“Yes, 1 do; lam very hard up.”
“Well, shake a carpet.”
HIS CHOICE.
“Kill anything?” asked a citizen ot the sub
urbs, who met a boy carrying a gun.
“Naw.”
“See anything to kill?”
•• Naw.”
Expect to see anything ?”
" Naw.”
“Then what on earth are you tramping aronnd
in the mud and slush for ?”
“ ’Cause it’s my birthday.”
“Well, what o? that?”
“I’veeither got to do this or bold a birthday
party. Guess yon dou’t know what is to be a
boy.’’
IT WAS MUTUAL.
Two men, who were rail-fencing along Michi
gan avenue under the influence of drink the
other day, met at Rowland street. After a long
stare at each other one turned away with the
remark :
“ Too bad ! Too bad ! Zhat fellor’d be one
shmartest men in er country ’fee didn’t git
zhrnnk.”
The other looked after him and mournfully
soliloquized :
“ Poor man 1 Might go to Congress as well
as not but ior zhis awlul habit. It’s really too
bad. I must shoe him and tell him of ’er de
grading ’fluences of zlirink.”
DETAINED ON THE ROAD.
“ When I lived in Kansas,” said a Detroiter
who was telling stories in an insurance office a
few days ago, “ I insured my house with an
agent, against fire. Along came another agent
who insured against lightning, and I took that
in. In a few days a chap called on me who in
sured against cyclones, and I struck a bargain
with him. The next caller insured against wa
ter spouts and explosions, and I thought I
might as well encourage him,”
“ A house couldn’t be much safer than that,”
remarked one of the listeners.
“ And yet I lost it inside of six months.”
“ How could it be ?”
“ Well, there came a freshet in the river and
house, barn, fences, haystacks and all went
sailing down stream. The agent who insured
against freshets got there just one day too
late.”
NOT OXACTLY.
A reporter who heard that a man had been
found frozen to death on Michigan avenue in
terviewed a ealoonist on the subject and was
told:
“ Vhell, he doan’ freeze exactly to death, but
he comes awful near him.”
“ How near ?”
“ A boy comes und tells me dot somepody
vhas lying on der snow, nnd I goes oudt und
prings him in.”
“Yes.”
“ Und I pours tree big drinks of whisky down
his throat, und 1 pays myself thirty cents oudt
of his pockel, und he comes to und says he’ll
have mo arrested und vhalks oudt.”
“ He didn’t have any gratitude ?”
“ No. Ho said vhat ailed him vhas fits, und
all dot whisky vhas wasted. Dat’s do wery last
time I safe anypody from freezing to death if
you doan’ forget it!”
DO YOU WANT A CLAIM ?
" I want to make a square business proposi
tion to you,” said a stranger to the Occupant of
an office on Griswold street the other day.
“ I’ll hear it, sir.”
•’ I’m heir to at least thirty million dollars,
and I’ll sell
“Are you one of the Lawrence-Townley claim
ants?”
“lam. My family runs back to the Crusa
ders. As I was Baying, being temporarily hard
up, I’ll sacrifice ”
“No use—no use I”
“ Bnt I’ll take ten dollars for my chance.”
“No use, sir 1 One of the heirs, who is good
for forty-five million dollars, was here yester
day and sold me his claim for seven dollars,
and I don’t care to invest any further. I’ve
only got about twenty years to live, and 1 can’t
possibly spend that forty-five million dollars.
Good day, sir. You might go across to the
tailor shop and try him. I guess he’s the only
man on the street who hasn’t bought one of the
claims.”
GREAT REPENTANCE.
WHEN SCAREDTOLDTHE TRUTH.
The sexton of a Methodist Church in a eer
tain village in Alabama is Enoch Smith, a negro,
about fifty years of age. In his own churcli
Enoch stands somewhat higher, being a mem
ber of the Board of Stewards, and, so far as the
future is concerned, with very fair chance of
promotion.
A little thing happened the other day, which,
but for the unfortunate disclosure of himself by
the perpetrator of the joke, would, without
doubt, have elevated Enoch in the opinion of hie
brethren, but alas I
Late Saturday afternoon Enoch was engaged
in making the white people’s church ready for
next day’s services. The solitude of the place
wasyendered more fearful by a heavy rain,
thunder and lightening outside, and Enoch is
excusable for feeling, as ho expressed it.
“mighty jubous.” A negro drayman sought
refuge from the rain, in the church porch, and
when he looked into the church and saw the
sexton with his back turned, he stealthily en
tered, and concealed himself under the benches.
The sexton swept, the lightning flashed, the
thunder rolled—and then came a stillness,
which was at length broken by a voice, uttering
in sepulchral tone, the one word :
“ Enoch!”
Enoch turned around bnt saw no one; he
quivered ; his flesh began to * creep.’ Again
louder, more awlul:
“ Enoch 1”
Enoch, with both hands held the broom, but
answered not—his heart clogged the way. Once
more in tones of tbnnder came the words :
“ Enoch ! Turn, and some over on de Lawd’s
side I”
Enoch felt that it was answer or die, and so
by a mighty effort he swallowed his heart and
literally screamed forth;
“Yas, my lawd I”
NEW YORK DISPATCH, FEBRUARY 21, 1886.
“How many wives you got?” said the voice.
Enoch was now beside himself with terror,
and, falling upon his knees, chanted at the top
of his voice : . •
“Oh ! Mars© Jesus I You knows hits five wid
out er axin’ uv mo, but spar me now, spar me
now’n’ I’ll gib um all up 1 Yas, good Lawd,
spar po’ Enoch jes dis oncet ”
“ Hero the familiar voice of Ben Andrews, th©
drayman, inquired :
“ What’n old Harry you hollerin’ about ?”
Enoch gave vent to a resonant groan of min
gled relief and chagrin, and, as the laughing
questioner arose, resumed his sweeping with
the remark :
“ I seed yer when yer fust como in.”
SOMNAMBULISfS.
QUEER FREAKS OF SOME OF
THEM,
(JYom the London Post.")
The vagaries of somnambulists are proverbi
ally notorious, and, within the past day or two,
a village near Gainsborough has been the scene
of an amusing freak of one of the sleep-walking
brotherhood. An old resident there was dis
covered at one o’clock in the morning in a neigh
bor’s garden, engaged in prayer, evidently un
der the impression that he was in church, but
otherwise in a deep sleep. He was, fortunately,
roconducted to his bed by some friends, none
the worse for his little escapade and consequent
exposure to the cold. Compared, however, with
the amusing and inexplicable things recorded
of other somnambulists, the freak of the Gains
borough villager is quite commonplace.
Dr. Haycock, the eminent Oxford divine,
would often rise from his bed at night, give out
a text, and, while sound asleep, deliv'Gf an ex
celjeijt. sermon upon it, Jje was frequently
watched, but no amount of tugging, pulling or
pinching ever succeeded in rousing him. Dr.
Macnisb, of Edinburgh, gives an account of an
Irish gentlemen who swam more than two miles
down a river, got ashore, and was subsequent
ly discovered sleeping by the roadside, alto
gether unconscious ot the extraordinary feat he
had accomplished. Dr. Pritchard had a patient
who was particularly fond of horse exercise,
and usjed to rise at night, find his way to the
stable, saddle his horse, enjoy a gallop, and
finally come back knocking' at his own front
door in a somnambulistic condition. He was
cured in a manner sufficiently funny to be worth
recording—his servants tickled the soles of his
feet.
The memory of sleep-walkers is occasionally
prodigious under the influence of the dominat
ing impulse that moves them. Moritz gives an
.instance of a poor and illiterate basket-maker,
who was unable to read or write ; and yet, in a
state of sleep-vigil, he would preach fluent ser
mons, which were alt©rwa#d recognized as hav
ing formed portions of discourses he was accus
tomed to hoar in the parish church as a child
more than forty yours before. Quito as strange
a case ot “unconscious memory” is referred to
by the eminent Dr. Abercrombie. A young girl
given to sleep-talking in the habit of imi
tating the violin 'with her lipSj giving the pre
liminary scraping and tuning and flourishing
with the utmost fidelity. It puzzled the physi
cian a good deal until he ascertained that when
an infant,the girl lived in a room adjoining a
fiddler, who olten performed upon his instru
ment in her hearing. On the other hand, it
must be admitted that somnambulists occasion
ally do very foolish things and make odd mis
takes. A young man—oi whom Petrus Diver
sus writes—used to get up in his sleep, climb
on to his castle battlements, seat himself astride
them, and then spur and whip tbe wall, under
the impression that he was mounted upon hie
steed.
But sleep-walkers have made more serious
errors than this by far, and crimes committed
while in the somnambulistic condition are far
from being rare. Not mot© than six years ago
an unhappy mechanic residing in Edinburgh
was tried before the high court there for the
murder of his own child, it was proved that
he rose from his bed at night, and, fast asleep,
took the infant from beaide its mother and
dashed it furiously against tbe wall. The evi
dence showed that the wretched father was ad
dicted to somnambulism, and bis own explana
tion of the matter was that he dreamed ho was
attacked and bad struggled with his assailant.
Of course the man was acquitted.
Stranger than this* by re son of the compli
cated circumstances attending it, was the trial
of the notorious Lord Culpepper's brother, in
1686, for the murder of one ot th© guards, while
in a state of sleep-vigil. He got up, saddled h:s
favorite charger, and went lor a ride in the
park, being all the time sound asleep. One oi
t e sentries on duty, being unaware of the con
dition id which the officer was, refused to allow
him to pass, whereupon the Hon. Mr. Culpep
per drew his pistol and deliberately shot the
poor man dead on the spot. When tried at th©
Old Bailey lor murder, he pleaded somnambu
lism, and as it was proved that ho was addict
ed to the habit, and that he was found to be
asleep when arrested immediately after th©
tragedy, he was acquitted.
In {Saxony, only three years ago, a young
woman was charged with having attempted to
murder her illegitimate child. She was ob
served to rise one-night and leave her room,
carrying the infant along with her. Shortly
afterward she returned alone, and when ques
tioned as to tbe whereabouts of the baby made
no reply, and was found to be asleep. When
aroused she affirmed she knew nothing of what
she had done with the child, of which she was
extremely fond. Acareiul search instituted led
to the discovery ot the infant ai the bottom of
an old and dried-up well in tbe vicinity, appar
ently not much the worse for a fall of more than
thirty feet. Tbe mother was acquitted. To
come to a more amusing instance oi a somnam
bulistic ;reak, Professor Fischel, ot Basel, writes
oi a young student in Wurtemburg College,
who used to play at hide-and-seek while fast
asleep. His fellow students knew of his pro
pensity, and when he began “walking” threw
bolsters at him, whichjhe always eluded, jump
ing over bedsteads and other obstacles placed
in his way.
Once upon a time somnambulists were sup
posed to be affected by tfie moon, but the belief
is long exploded, as also that which attributes
to them the singular power of always finding
their way unaided to the place whence they
started. About a fortnight ago a policeman on
duty in Islington came upon a gentleman in
cool undress and fast asleep perambulating the
streets, and certainly unable to discover his own
home. He was taken to the station and careful
ly awakened, and.then reconductod to his home
and bed, after giving his address.
Of tbe causes that predisposes to sleep-walk
ing, little is known with certainty; but despite
the dramatic instance of Lady Macbeth, it may
safely be affirmed that indigestion and a nerv
ous organization have a good deal more to do
with it than remorse.
BEARS AND GROUNDHOGS.
How a Citizen of Shohola, Penn., had
Some Sport on Candlemas Day.
“ I have heard of one bear that made its ap
pearance in this county on groundhog day,”
said one of the old residents of this part of the
county, “ and he woke up and crawled out
down in Delaware Township. Groundhog day
comes on the 2d of February, and you can’t
find a woodsman in the whole Delaware valley
who don’t believe sacredly that on that day
groundhogs and bears wake up from their long
Winter sleep and come out of their holes or
dens to take a look around. If the sun shines
so that they can see their shadow’s they lose no
time in getting right back to their Winter quar
ters, turn in and go to sleep for six weeks
longer. If it is cloudy, and they can’t see their
shadows, they don’t return to their Winter
lodging places, but go to work at once to
make arrangements forth© Spring and Summer
campaign. If the sun shines, according to this
ancient backwoods superstition, the groundhog
and the bear know that there will be six weeks
more of tough Winter weather, and they go
back out of its way. But a cloudy day is a sure
indication that tbe back bone of Winter is
broken, and that there’s no use of being solicit
ous about tbe kind ol weather we will have for
the rest of the season.
“Last groundhog day was a sunny day. A
blind groundhog might have seen Ins shadow,
sol suppose we may look for six weeks more o
blizzards and zero weather. The bear that
came out, down in Delaware Township, as I
was telling you, might better have remained in
ignorance ot the state of the weather that day,
for he will never see his shadow again. John
Titman, an observant sort of a citizen, had a
suspicion that this bear would poke his nose
out oi doors on the 2d inst., so ho was in that
vicinity with his gun bright and early. He got
there in time to see bruin walk deliberately out
of a hole in a ledge, stretch himself and yawn,
just like a person will do on waking from a
sound sleep. Titman lot the bear walk some
distance away, so he could have tho pleasure of
seeing his shadow if he wanted to. Then the
hunter shot him through the heart, dropping
the bear in his tracks. I doubt very much
whether there was a groundhog anywhere in
tho country wide awake enough to leave his
burrow on tho day that is said to bo his, either
this or any other year. I never saw ono of
these animals away from its holo ot its own ac
oord any time after it retired for the Winter
until it came out for good in tho Spring. I
have dug into their quarters many times and
found Mr. Groundhog and his mate cuddled up
in their nest of dry leaves, with no more evi
dence of life about them than there would be
if you had just put a load ot buckshot in their
hearts. You could play football with a hiber
nating groundhog and he wouldn't be any the
wiser until the exercise sot Kis blood circulating
and warmed him up.
“Bears, though they are hibernators, and are
generally supposed to be literally dead from
tho time cold weather sets in until warm weath
er returns, with the exception of the groundhog
day resurrection, have away of 5 appearing in
their old haunts at almost any time during the
Winter. I have seen fresh bear tracks in the
snow when the weather was so cold that the
mercury stood at zero, and I’ve met bears in
the woods in the depth of Winter, apparently as
lively and capable of taking care of ‘ themselves
as they ever were in the hight of the feeding
season. Coons are the same. Their Winter
sleep seems to be a light on©, for they wake up
at every thaw, and coen tracks in tho snow are
no curiosity. But squirrels, like the ground
hog, go to sleep in the Winter for the purpose
of sleeping, and they never so tar forget them
selves as to wake up and take a cold weather
trip, even in search of such a cheerful thing as
a shadow on the snow.
•• There was once an innocent, good-hearted
old gentleman who lived in New York, but spent
much of his time here?and in other places in
the neighborhood. He was a great reader of
natural history, and thought he was a student,
but he was not, for he believed everything he
read in his books and never looked lor anything
beyond that. One Winter he was passing a few
days with a friend who lives back along Shoho
la creek, three or four miles from here. He
was there when Candlemas Day came around,
and heard the remark made that bears and
groundhogs would come out on that day and
look for their shadows. The book naturalist
rebuked the superstition and talked learnedly
about the impossibility of bears leaving their
dens in mid-Winter because they were in a co
matose state, which only tbe natural course of
the seasons could change to one at activity and
life. The old gentleman took his usual tramp
in the woods that day. The weather was warm
and the sky bright. * The naturalist wandered
some distance up a small tributary of the creek
and sat down on a rock to rest. While sitting
there he heard a noise, and looking in the di
rection from whence it came, ‘saw an immense
bear standing by the side of the stream, not a
dozen yards away, and gazing at him with a
bold and impudent look that frightened the na
turalist. The old gentleman jumped to his feet
and the bear gave a snort and swaggered off
across the creek and disappeared.
“ The sudden appearance of the bear, which,
according to all rules set down in the books,
should at that moment have been sleeping
soundly in some hollow tree or crevice in tho
rocks, disturbed tbe visitor’s meditations and
he turned to leave the spot. As he turned he
started so that be came near falling from tbe
rock, for he was confronted by another boar,
which stood facing him and looking at him with
its nose in tho air, almost within the reach of
the naturalist’s hand. £he old gentleman’s
'nerves were not ©qua! to this second apparition
and he turned and scrambled up the sleep bank
to get away from the spot. His fright was in
creased to absolute terror when he was near to
the top of tbe bank by the appearance on tho
summit of a third bear, bigger than either of
the others. This boar thrust his head over the
edge of the bank and stood there eyeing tho
terrified naturalist as much as to say ‘ what’s all
this fuss about anyhow?” The old gentleman
rolled and slid back to the bottom, dashed
wildly across the creek, and never stopped un
til he rea hod his friend’s house, a mile and a
half distant. He reached there hatless and
breathless, and so thoroughly frightened that it
was a long tirno before he was able to talk with
any degree of intelligibility. He never made
any further explanation of his abrupt and de
moralized arrival at the house that day than the
simple remark : * I am a convert to the theory
that the bear does wake up on the second day
of February.’
“ No one would ever have known the story of
the way tbe old gentleman was converted but for
tho fact that a man who was out hunting foxes
that day was hidden behind a tree not twenty
yards away from the rock where the naturalist
sat and saw ttm whole.thing. He not only saw
it, but he went home and got bis rifle and fol
lowed and killed two oi the bears before night.”
APPEffrETTpffiIAN.
Patient’s Cravings Often a Guide to a
Sovereign
BY ROSE TERRY COOK.
There are temporary idiosyncratic desires
for food, particularly in sickness, that are very
apt to be inst active indications ot usefulness
or need. A physician I one© knew, whose early
death was a great loss to the profession, so
wonderful was his skill in diagnosis and in the
use of remedial agents, said to me once that if
a patient strongly craved anything to eat or
drink, however odd or unwholesome the thing
desired seemed to be, he always allowed him to
try it, for he invariably found that tbe article m
question either became useful to the patient, or
just a mouthful or a sip would at once satisfy
the desire.
He told of several instances in his own prac
tice that justified his theory. While he was
employed in B. hospital, after completing his
course of study at a medical college, a severe
epidemic of Summer diarrhea set in, and the
children’s ward was crowded with patients.
The disease was unusually obstinate and malig
nant, and at Last attacked an infant of the ma
tron. Tho child was very ill, and the mother
was obliged to take it with her in her arms
when she went about her duties, as those could
not b© neglected, and there was not a nurse to
be spared. One day when she sat down to din
ner with her child in her lap, there was a slice
of boiled bam put on her plate. The ham had
not been skinned after boiling, and the baby
reached out and grasped a piece of rind that
was near her and began to suck it with great
eagerness. The mother was alarmed and tried
to take it away, sure that it would be injurious
under the circumstances, but the child cried so
hard and grasped the rind so tightly that at
last she gave up the contest.
The next morning the doctor said: “ Mrs.
ing to bear an unfavorable report, as several
infants had died during the night.
“ She’s a great deal better,” said the mother,
cheerfully. “ But I surely thought I’d killed
her yesterday, doctor. I let her get hold of a
bit of ham rind when I wasn’t lookin" at her,
and she got it in her mouth, and cried so hard
when I tried to take it away I thought she’d
have a spasm, so I let her suck it, but to-day
she’s ever so much better, her diarrhea stopped
last night and she slept well and ate well this
morning.”
Tbe prompt and perceptive doctor went
directly to the kitchen, discovered the remains
of a ham, cut slips of the rind off, carried them
up tho infant ward and distributed them among
the babies, who without exception grasped them
with avidity, and every one on whom this ex
periment was tried rapidly recovered.
Another patient was an Irishman, apparently
at the point o( death with ulceration of the
bowels. Doctors and nurses had all given him
up. He was unable to speak above a whisper,
and my kind-hearted friend, pitiful of bis help
less condition, stooped over him and said:
“ Patrick, is there anything you want that I
can get you ?”
In a whisper so weak and hoarse as to be in
audible unless the doctor put his ear down
close to the trembling lips, the dying man
answered:
“ Cabbage.”
The doctor could not believe his ears.
“ Did you say cabbage ?” asked he, incredu
lously.
“ Oi did,” was the faint whisper.
“Cooked or raw?” asked, the astonished
doctor.
“ Raw,” murmured Patrick.
The doctor stood aghast; however he reflect
ed that Pat was dying and that nothing could
kill or cure him now; it seemed a kindly thing
to fulfill his last wishes, so he went out into the
garden, and cutting a large, fresh cabbage, di
vided it into quarters and laid one of the sec
tions close to Patrick’s lips, guiding his help
less hand into a place that propped the cabbage
up against his mouth, and then Dr. C. sat down
to watch this extraordinary patient.
Slowly the cabbage disappeared, tho Irish
man’s eyes brightened during the process, and
a shade more of life pervaded his countenance.
As the last fragment was swallowed he said
“ Moro !” in quite an audible tone, but the doc
tor made him wait a few minutes before the
second quarter was laid in position and eagerly
received.
To curtail my story, in the course of the day
Patrick ate all the good part of a large cabbage,
began to get well from that time, and in a week
or two left the hospital and went to work. I
had this story from Dr. C. himself, or I dare
not record it. In another instance the same
physician was attending a severe case of kidney
disease; the patient had a great craving for ci
der, and remembering his experience in the
hospital the doctor sent for a pitcherlul, and or
dered the nurse to give it to the sick man in
small quantities and observe carefully how it
acted upon him, and refuse it to him if it seem
ed injurious. The nurse followed directions,
but the patient, like Oliver Twist, kept asking
for more; the nurse dared not indulge him be
yond the doctor’s directions, but being over
come with sleep during the night, omitted the
dose, and the patient, creeping out of bed very
quietly, reached the pitcher and emptied it at.
one draught. The poor nurse reproached him
self bitterly for his lapse of watch, but the cider
cured the patient, and both doctor and nurse
were shortly dispensed with.
HOW TO WARMfROOMS.
Tho Draught That Comes From the
Cold Side of a Window.
Frequently the chilly feeling that one ex
periences from the windowward side as ono sits
in a room is caused, not by a current of cold air
setting from the window to the fire, but by the
coldness of the window itself. For this latter,
being kept at a low temperature by contact with
the outside air, draws the heat from the body,
or rather the heat radiates from the body to tho
window—the temperature of the air in between
making no difference to the transference, in ac
cordance with a well known property of radiant
heat. For instance, the air in a room may be
quits hot, and yet a largo window, however air
tight, will make itself unpleasantly felt on a cold
day, just as on board ship the propinquity of an
iceberg is announced by a lowering of tempera
ture. A screen interposed between the window
and any one exposed to its malign influence
will often afford great relief, and one reason
why rooms so frequently feel more comfortable
in the evening is that the cold glass is effectu
ally shut off behind the closely drawn curtains
and blinds.
In countries where the winters are habitually
severe, tbe advent of frost is usually the signal
for the fixing up of inner windows, the layer ot
air between these and the outer ones forming
an excellent barrier to the escape of heat, owing
to its low conductive power. Cold walls also
induce a sense of chilliness, but if they are
properly built, there should be no difficulty in
keeping them warm on the inside.
The experiment has sometimes been tried of
warming rooms by means of hot air only, but
the result has never been good, and for this
reason—that, in order to warm the walls to the
requisite degree, the air must bo far hotter than
is healthy or agreeable for breathing. In fact,
the principle is wrong ; the air should not warm
the walls, but tho walls should warm the air.
An open fire acts in this latter way. The rays
of heat pass through the air without heating it,
and produce no effect till they impinge on the
walls, furniture, and carpet of the room. These,
being thus gently warmed, communicate their
heat by contact to the air about them, and in
this way, while tbe objects in the room ardi
raised to a sufficient temperature, the air is not
rendered unpleasant by being overheated. We
see, then, that our favorite open fires have
much to recommend them, whatever may be
said about their wastefulness, and, as regards
health and comfort, they are much better than
close stoves, which, though they radiate their
warmth, also heat the air in contact with them,
and are apt to do so to excess.
IIISOM-Y’dlEW.
HOW A BOY WAS INDUCED TO
CHEW TOBACCO.
“ I never.tried to chew tobacco but once,” re
marked the Rev. Mr. Bed wall. “1 shall never
forget the circumstance.”
“Tell us about it,” remarked a young lady,
who a few moments before had been baptized
by the reverend gentleman.
“I was a very small boy at the time, and a
great favorite of Daniel, a colored man owned
by my father. I used to go out to Dan’s cabin
at night and listen to his ghost stories until 1
was afraid to cross the yard to the ‘ big house,’
as the negroes termed our residence. One
night, when the wind scattered the snow-flakes
around the old cabin, and while several large
sweet potatoes roasted tin the fire, I sat with
Daniel. No one who has been raised among
colored people can forget the comfort of sitting
around the cabin fire. The old spinning-wheel,
the hamper basket in the corner, the red bed
steads and the dug-out cradle, all come back
and defy the influence of a glowing future and
soft rugs. Dan was strikingly communicative
on the night in question. We had killed hogs
that day, and the truth is, old Dan had been
drinking.
“ ‘ Tom,” remarked the old man, • yer don’t
chew terbacker, does yer ?’
‘“No, sir.’
‘ Dat’s a pity. A boy who doesn’t chew ter
backor never will be a man. I’ll bet yer can’t
spit ober dat back log. Try hit.’
“ I tried, and failed signally.
‘Dar now. Doan’ yer know data boy what
can’t spit will never be a man? Haven’t yer
noticed how a man ken spit ?’
“ ‘Yes, sir.’
“ ‘Well, wouldn’ yer like ter place ye’sef on
de record an’ larn to spit like a white man ?’
“ ‘Yes, sir.’
“ Well, heah, take dis/and he cut a piece of
tobacco from a large twist.
“ ‘Smack dat in your mouf an’ chaw while de
taters is roastin’?
“ ‘I obeyed, and in a few moments could spit
like a man.
“ ‘Cum down on hit savage,’ he said. ‘Hit
hard—watch me,’ and he chewed vigorously.
“ The fire grew excessively warm. I looked
around, and the hamper baskets seemed to be
tumbling over each other.
“‘Doan’spit it out—hit savage—chaw hard.
De victory is in sight. Is yer sick ?’
“ ‘No, sir; but—but ’
“ I had eaten a hearty supper, but within
three minutes from the time I threw out the
tobacco I was as empty as one of the hamper
baskets and as limber as -the spinning wheel
band. Dan spread a blanket on the floor, and,
as I dozed off to sleep, I heard him blowing the
ashes from the potatoes. I never have taken
another chew.”
Respectfully Dedicated to Gentlemen
Who Carry Canes.
To tap it on the pavement at every step
means, “ Object is no money to me—l’m trying
to wear out the ferule.”
To poke a person in the ribs with it—who is
standing up on a chair three rows ahead of the
pokist, at a slugging match—insinuates, “Down
in front.”
To hurriedly slip it down the pantaloons leg
and walk along with it concealed therein, evi
dences that it has previously been feloniously
“magnetized” from some hall-rack and the
rightful owner is approaching.
To point with it at a rare old painting in a
picture gallery indicates that the check boy was
asldep when the visitor came through the entry
door.
To carry the upper end in the overcoat pock
et, with the bottom part sticking straight up in
front, signifies that the nickel plate has worn
ofl from its bogus leaden head, and the same
would blacken the dudelets tan colored glove
if held in his hand.
To carelessly but gracefully drop it denotes
the exhilaration of too much high-priced fine
wine aboard ; while to awkwardly get it tan
gled up among the legs and plump the bearer
forward on his nasal abutment sadly goes to
prove a wholesale consumption of common fivo
cent red, red liquor I
To pedestrianize on a crowded sidewalk with
it run through the akimboed elbows and across
the back—with ends projecting beyond each
arm—intimates that there is plenty of room out
in the middle of the street for other people who
don’t care to be swiped off into the gutter in
passing.
To hold it in the centre, with the handled por
tion downward, is intended by the effeminate
“mower” to demonstrate this : “Aw, this stick
isfyweally |so pawsitively top-’eavy, aw, that I—
nevah ’aving been used to manual labah, aw,
find it a widicnlously weighty burden, aw.”
To present it, nicely engraved, to a trusted
clerk on New Year’s Day as a recognition of
“ long and faithful service,” conveys the sor
rowful fact to the t. c. that ye employer’s act is
an economical “stave-off” against his hireling’s
hoped-for raise in salary.
The Last Days of Diane de Poic
tibks.—During twenty-four years her influence
grew and widened. She lost her beauty as she
grew, at last, an old woman sixty years of ago.
Her later medals show us the sad face of the
whilom beauty; the lined face w.ith a double
chin; the wrinkles round the thin lips, and the
drawn and pointed nose; the crimped hair sus
piciously abundant above the withered brow ;
the long eyes faded and sunken under the eye
brows, grown too thick and ridiculously arched.
But though her enchanted beauty went, the
magic of her influence remained ; not even then
could any venture to foretell the end of her
reign. At last, in 1559, a sudden accidental
wound in a tournay, gave the death-blow to
Henri 11. As he lay dying, Queen Catherine,
with the servile pleasure in tyranny of all feeble
creatures, sent for Diane, and bade her leave
the palace and restore the jewels which the king
had given her. “Madame,” said the old en
chantress, “are you sure he is dead yet?”
And, being told there still was left some breath
in his body, she continued, “As yet, then, I
have no master. Let my enemies know I do
not fear them. For when this prince is dead, I
shall be too busy mourning him to heed the
sorrows they would heap upon me.” Thus,
sober and calm as ever, Diane quits the stage
of the world.
The Skylark.—Says an English ex
change: The skylark is not a migratory bird in
the strict sense of the term. That is, it does
not, like the cuckoo, the nightingale, or the
swallow, seek a warmer climate at the first ap
proach of Winter. But neither is it, like the
sparrow, the rook, or the grouse, a steady
resident in the same district all the year round.
It Hits backward and forward as the demands of
its larder require. If the country is covered
with snow, or hard frozen, it seeks a more con
genial region, returning again when the local
obstacles to its comfort have disappeared. As
the Continent is more regularly subject to snow
storms than those islands, this local migration
goes on more frequently to England than from
it. This fact the bird-catchers are so well
aware of that, when they hear of snow m Hol
land or Germany, they prepare their nets and
snares lor the coming exiles. For weeks not a
lark may have been seen on a particular heath.
Then suddenly one morning they appear in
countless numbers. It is from these stray flocks
in search of food that the Loudon market is
supplied with the twenty or thirty thousand
which sometimes reach it in a single day. It
has been estimated that at least two thousand
pounds’ worth aro annually sold in the metro
polis alone.
The Widow’s Arrow.—A dashing
widow who had received marked attentions
from a very popular and gallant physician
found herself suddenly deserted. Her Escula
pius, aged fifty-two, was completely enthralled
by a beauty of eighteen, and on Christmas
morning the wedding took place with all due
pomp. Wormwood for the widow ! She swal
lowed it bravely, carried an undaunted front,
and was among the first to offer congratulations
to the happy pair. The conversation turned
upoifChristmas gifts, and the bride said, laugh
ing gayly :
“ All my wedding presents were sent just be
fore Christmas ; so on Christmas morning I bad
not a single giit.”
“ Ah, my dear, that is cruel; you had me I”
said the bridegroom, reproachfully.
Before the pretty bride could answer, the
widow’s eyes grew dangerous, and, swinging
her large fan slowly, she murmured :
“Surely, my dear Mrs. X., you should be
more than satisfied, for you know antiquities
are all the rage 1”
In the awful silence that ensued the widow
rose, carefully arranged her draperies, and
bowed her adieu in stately serenity. Dr. X. and
his bride never returned her call.
A Venetian Romance.—ln J Ven ice, a
young Englishman appeared every morning in
the tobacco divan of Signor Alberti, bought the
most expensive cigars, gave presents to the
beautiful shop girl, and, so far as his faulty com
mand of the Italian tongue allowed, paid assidu
ous court to her. Subsequently he presented
her with his visiting card, on which was en
graved Lord Rodney. He told her that he was
staying at the Grand Hotel, had hired the entire
first etage, and was dying for love of her. He
asked her to be his wife, but wished that the
marriage might be performed secretly and im
mediately, because he feared that if his aristo
cratic kinsfolk in England gained any knowl
edge of his intentions, they would move heaven
and earth to hinder the union. The young lady
told the story to her employer, and Signor Al
berti prudently enough went to the Grand Hotel,
made inquiries, and found that all the servants
spoke of the generosity and wealth of the Eng
lish nobleman. He advised her to accept the
splendid offer, and a day was fixed for the mar
riage. As the young lord did not turn up at
the appointed time, Signor Alberti and the lady
went to the hotel to find him. They found him
in a white cravat cleaning his master’s boots.
Welsh Austerity.—The Scotch elder
is an austere man. He will take his “dram”
with unrelaxed countenance, though not with
out asking the preliminary blessing, but mirth
is an abomination to him, and the man who
whistles on Sunday imperils his soul. Stern
and unalterable gravity of mien is his idea of
decorum. The Welsh deacon is a gayer per
sonage, although severe enough on the back
slider, but of late he, too, has been reaching a
new level of Christian austerity. The game of
football seems to be his pet aversion. One
worthy deacon at Hirwain has set it about that
the football is “John the Baptist’s bead,” and
those who engage m the diabolical sport are
guilty of behaving with contumely to John the
Baptist. On the strength of this deliverence a
crusade against football is now being preached
in all the chapels in Hirwain, and the members
of the clubs have been told that they must
choose between football and excommunication.
Even the tailors have taken up the craze and
refuse to make knickerbockers for the players.
The clubs' on the other hand, most of whose
members are chapel-goers, seem to prefer ex
communication to the loss of their Winter past
time, and there the matter rests for the present.
Away out of the difficulty might be found m
substituting the oval for the round ball. The
most zealous elder could not accuse the players
of taking liberties with John the Babtist w’hen
kicking about something like an inflated tor
pedo.
The Tear-Kerchief.—ln some por
tions of Tyrol a peculiar and beautiful custom
still prevails. When a girl is about to be mar
ried, before she leaves her home to go to the
church her mother hands her a kerchief, which
is called a tear-kerchief. It is made of newly
spun linen, and has never been used. It is
with this kerchief that she dries her tears when
she leaves her father’s house and while she
stands at the alter. After the marriage is over,
and the bride has gone with her husband to
their own new home, she folds up the kerchief
and places it, unwashed, in the linen-closet,
where it remains untouched. The tear-ker
chief has performed only half of its mission.
Children are born, grow ui>, marry and move
away from the old home. Each daughter re
ceives from the mother a new tear-kerchief.
Her own still remains where it was placed in
the linen-closet on the day of the marriage.
Generations come and go. The young rosy
bride has become a wrinkled old woman. She
may have survived her husband and all her
children. All her friends may have died off,
and still that last present which she received
from her mother has not fulfilled its object.
But it comes at last—at last the weary eyelids
close for the long sleep, and the tired, wrinkled
hands are folded over the pulseless heart.
Then the tear-kerchief is taken from its place
and spread over the placid features of the dead
Artemus Ward on Editors.—Artemus
Ward, speaking of editors, says: “ Before you
go for an editor, young- man, pause and take a
big think ! Look around, and ‘ see if there is
not an omnibus.or some moat cart to drive,
some soil somewhere to be tilled or a clerkship
to be filled—anything that is reputable or
healthy, rather than going for an editor, which
is. a bad business at best. We are not a horse,
and consequently have not been called upon to
furnish the motive power for a threshing ma
chine, but we fancy that the life of an editor
who is forced to write, whether he fools like it
or not, is much like the steed in question. It
the yeas and neighs could be obtained, we be
lieve that the intelligent horse would decide
that the threshing machine is preferable to the
sanctum editorial. The editor’s work is never
done. He is drained incessantly, and no wonder
that he dries up prematurely. Other people
can attend banquets, weddings, etc., visit halls
of dazzling light, and enjoy themselves in a
variety of ways, but the editor cannot He
must tenaciously stick to the quill. The press,
like a sick baby, must not be left to run by
itself even for a day, or somebody indignantly
orders the carrier-boy to stop bringing • that
darned paper. There ia nothing in it; I won’t
havo it in the house.’ ”
A Cure for Sleeplessness.—A curi
ous cure for sleeplessness, or insomnia, has re
cently been reported by Dr. von Gellhorn. A
piece of calico about eighteen inches wide and
two and three-quarter yards long is rolled up
like a bandage, and a third of it wrung out of
cold water. The leg is then bandaged with
this, the wot portions being carefully covered
by several layers of the dry part, as well as by
a layer of gutta-percha tissue, and a stocking
drawn over the whole. This causes dilatation
.of the vessels of the! leg, thus diminishing the
blood in the head and producing sleep. It has
been found by Wintemitz that the temperature
in the ear-passage begins to fall a quarter of an
hour after the application of the bandage, the
decrease amounting to 0-4° cent., and the nor
mal not being again reached lor from one and a
half to two hours afterward. The author has
employed this means of procuring sleep for a
couple of years, and finds it especially useful in
cases whore there is congestion of the brain.
Sometimes he has found it necessary to re-apply
the bandage every three or four ‘hours as it
dried.
‘‘Sweet By-and-By.”—This is how
the now famous hymn, “Sweet By-and-by,”
came to be written : Dr. Fillmore Bennett, the
author, lives at Richmond, 111., and is poor.
The hymn was written by Dr. Bennett at Elk
horn, Wia., in 18G8. The writing of the words
was based upon a remark made by J. P. Web
ster, who composed the music. Mr. Webster
was ©f an exceedingly nervous and sensitive
nature, and subject to periods of terrible de
pression. In one of his melancholy moods he
chanced to drop in at the house of Dr. Bennett,
when the latter asked him : “ What is the mat
ter now?” “Oh.it is no matter,” replied the
despondent man. “it will be all right by-and
by. The last three words immediately con
veyed a suggestion to Dr. Bennett, and he says :
“ The idea of the hymn came to me like a flash
of sunlight.” Turning to his desk, he penned
the words which have since become so famous.
He says it did not take him more than twenty
minutes to write the hymn.
A Strange Horror.—From Vienna
comes intelligenc of the death of Count Emeric
Sommisch, a Hungarian magnate, who was
known in society for his extraordinary hatred
of horses. This aversion amounted to a real
hippophobia, and it obliged the count many
years ago to throw up bis commission in the
army. The Count died at an advanced age on
his estate in Sclavonia. He was a distinguished
agriculturist, an excellent landlord, and on all
subjects but that of horses, asses and mules, a
man of sound judgment. He would not allow
any animal of the equine kind to come upon
his lands, so that visitors who rode or drove to
see him had always to alight at his park gates.
He himself for many years used a vehicle
drawn by trained deer, but latterly he went
about his estate in a carriage with a team of
oxen. His horror of horses is said by the
'rimes correspondent to have been innate, as
there was no accident in his life to account for
it.
A Boy Love Affair of Washington’s.
—George Washington was a tall, large-limbed,
shy boy of about fifteen when he fell in love
with a girl whom he seems to have met when
living with his brother Augustine. Ho calls
her, in one of his letters afterward, a “ lowland
beauty,” and tradition makes her to have been
a Miss Grimes, who later married and was the
mother of oue of the young soldiers who served
under Washington in the war for independence.
Whatever may ha ve been the exact reason that
bis love affair cTid not prosper—whether he was
too shy to make his mind known, or so silent as
not to show himself to advantage, or so dis
creet with grave demeanor as to hold himself
too long in reserve, it is impossible now to say;
but suspect that one effect was to make him
work the harder. Sensible people do not ex
pect boys of fiteen to be playing the lover, and
George Washington was old for his years, and
not likely to appear like a spooney.
Leather Ornamental Work.—Beau
tiful effects are produced by this art. The leaf
or petal having been first outlined, is cut with
scissors or penknife. The leather is then soaked
in warm water, rolled and pressed. Mid-rib,
smaller ribs, reticulations, etc., are made with
small ivory modeling tools. The undulating
direction is given by the various lobes of the
fingers, or tools that will produce the same
effect, when wet. Tendrils and stalks are made
by twisting and pinching narrow strips of leather
while wet, and in some cases the leather is
rolled round thin brass or copper wire. The
parts are attached to each other or to the ground
by glue and small pins, after being painted over
with a thin solution of parchment size. The
ground, whether wood or leather, should also
be varnished. The whole work is to be finally
coated With cap varnish, copal, or mastic.
Eczema
Is more commonly known as Salt-Rheum.
It is caused by impure blood, is accom
panied with intense itching and burning
sensations, and, unless properly treated, is
likely to afflict its victim for years. If you
are suffering from Eczema, or any other
eruptive disease, take Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
It has proved, in numberless instances, a
complete cure for this disorder.
Entirely Cured.
A few weeks ago I was attacked with a
severe and distressing form of Eczema.
The eruptions spread very generally over
my body, causing an intense itching and
burning’ sensation, especially at night.
With great faith in the virtues of Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla, I commenced taking it, and,
after having used less than two bottles of
this medicine, am entirely cured. — Henry
K. Beardsley, of the Hope “Nine,” West
Philadelphia, Pa.
I was, for years, troubled with Salt-
Rheum, which', during the winter months,
caused my hands to become very sore,
crack open, and bleed. The use of
Ayer’s Sar
gaparilla has entirely cured me of this
troublesome humor. —Ellen Ashworth,
Evanston, Wyoming Ter.
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co.. Lowell, Mass.
- — -— r >
A Quarrelsome Baby.—ln a certain
menagerie a baby elephant was added to the
coilection of animals. It was chained opposite
the cage of a lion. From the first day theses
animals became neighl ors they evinced a hos
tility against each other that alarmed the mana
gers. To prevent an outbreak the elephant
was removed to a point out of the sight of th®
lion’s cage. It was thought the animals would
forget each other. Shortly after midnight ft
watchman in the street was startled by the rat
tling of chains, followed by the trumpeting of
the elephant and the roaring of the lion. Hast**
cning to the m useum he found the managers
and annmberol stage workmen battling with
the little elephant, which had seized the lion,
with its trunk by the bind leg and was tugging
to pull the beast through the bars of the cage o
The roars of the lion aroused all the other ani
mals, and their cries added to the confusion*
Twice the men succeeded in breaking the hold
of the elephant, which then, maddened by
scratches and bites of the lion, strove to breads
down the strong caco in which its enemy wac
confined, and twice the elephant renewed its
hold. Finally the men, reinforced by other
workers in the museum, succeeded in binding
the little elephant with ropes and chains, and
securing him at a place far removed from the
lion. It was found that the lion’s leg was
badly wrenched. The elephant escaped with
unimportant scratches and bites in its trunk.
Cuvier on Tight Lacing.—The great
naturalist, Cuvier, was walking one day with ft
young lady, who was a victim of tight lacing, in
a public garden in l aris. A lovely blossom upon
an elegant plant drew from her an expression*©!
admiration. Looking at her pale, thin face,- Cu
vior said: “You were like this flower once; to
nforrow it will be as you are now.” Next day
he led her to the same spot, and the beautiful
flower was dying. She asked the cause. “Thia
plant,” replied Cuvier, “is an image of your
self. I will show you what is the matter with
it.” He pointed to a cord bound tightly round
the stem, and said: “You are fading away ex
actly in the same manner under the compres
sion of your corset, and you aro losing by de
grees all your youthful charms, just because
you have not tho courage to resist this danger
ous fashion.”
Blunting the Feelings.—“ Curiom
how one’s feelings set blunted by the sight otf
blood and horrors,” save Sir Charles Wilson, in
his new narrative of tho Nile Expedition,,
“ There was one strange incident. An un
wounded Arab, armed with a spear, jumped up
and charged an officer. The officer grasped th®
spear with his left hand, and with his right ran
his sword through the Arab’s body; and there
for a few seconds they stood, the officer being
unable to withdraw his sword until a man ran
up and shot the Arab. It was a living embodi
ment of one of the old glad : atorial frescoes at
Pompeii. It did not, strange to say, seem horri
ble; rather, after what had passed, an everyday
occurrence. I.used to won def before how the
Romans could look on at the gladiatorial fightag
I do so no longer.”
The Egg Found Her a Husband.—A
romantic courtship has been going on for some
time between Frank Nolan, a clerk in a grocery
at Elizabethport, N. C., and a young school
teacher of Dakota. Mr. Nolan, one day about
four months ago, while unpacking a barrel of
eggs, found one that had the young lady’s name
and address written upon it The finder of th®
egg was requested to write, provided it was a
man who felt matrimonially inclined. Young
Nolan immediately complied with the fair dam
se'l’s request. Several letters have passed be
tween the pair, photographs have been ex
changed, and in her last missive, received ft
few days ago, the young woman requests her
admirer to come on to Dakota immediately;
A Learned Controversy.—The two
learned people of the village, says Dr. Oliver
Wendell Holmes, telling of his fanciful Arrow
head Village, “ were tho rector and the doctor*.
These two worthies kept up the old controversy
between the professions which grows out of the?
fact that one studies nature from below upward,
and the other above downward. The rector
maintained that physicians contracted a squint
which turns their* eyes inwardly, while the
muscles which roll their eyes upward become
palsied. The doctor retorted that theological
students developed a third eylid—the nictitating
membrane, which is so well known in birds,,
and which serves to shut out, not all light, but
all the light they do not want.”
A Satisfied Indian.—Tiger Tail seems
to be quite an original old Seminole. A sewing
machine agent drifted into his dominion one
day and set up a machine in Tiger Tail’s tent..
The old chief, with great deliberation, watched
him put it through its paces, fie then arose,,
brushed the agent to one side and seating him
self, adjusted his feet to the treadle. He started
the wheel and found that he could make it go.
He sewed up one piece of cloth and down an
other, and then gravely and critically examined
his work. At last he appeared to be satisfied
that it was all right. He then turned quietly to
his wives, who had watched the proceeding®
with interest, and kicked them, one after the
other, out of his tent.
A Kerosene Drinker.—There was a
prominent man in Springfield, Mass., some
years ago, who went home drunk every night o .
He was a bank president, and held other re
sponsible positions. Ho arose every morning
with his head and stomach in an awful condi
tion. His first action after making his toilet
was to drink a glass of kerosene oil. This reg
ulated his stomach, cleared his head and braced
him for the usual business and dissipation of
the clay. There is no doubt of this, as a physi
cian, well known in this vicinity, can vouch for
the facts. He doesn’t recommend kerosene,
however, to those having the bad habits of th©
Springfield man.
Neuralgia pain is usually of an in
tensely sharp, cutting or burning character, and
is either constant or intermittent. To relievo
this torture and effect a speedy and permanent
cure, rub thoroughly with Salvation Oil, the
greatest pain cure on earth. Price, 25 cents ft.
bottle.
Springing on His Prey.—An English
man in Madras has. by a lucky accident, mad®
a photograph of a tiger in act of seizing its
prey. The camera was focused on a buffalo
tied to a stake some thirty feet off, and had just
received a dry plate, when a tiger leaped from
tho jungle and struck him down with a single
blow. The operator kept his presence of mind
and released bis shutter before taking to hi®
heels. Tho negative proved a poor one, but
showed the relative attitudes of tiger and buf
falo pretty well, and confirmed the renerallv
accepted opinion that the tiger, with his knock
down blow, endeavors to dislocate the neck of
his victim.
How Dogs are Killed in London.—
Dogs doomed to die in London do not suffer
half as much as men who pay the extreme pen
alty. In tho chemical death-chamber of un
claimed curs, at Battersea, the dogs trot into
the tempting room, “ lie down, curl themselves
round and round, fall asleep,’ and so go to that
bourne whence no four-footed traveler returns.
This lethal chamber is filled with narcotic va
por, produced by passing carbonic oxide over a
surface of anesthetic mixture-composed of
chloroform and bisulphide of carbon.
How We Take Colds.—The London
Lancet believes that no inconsiderable portion
of the “colds,” attacks of lumbago, and even
more formidable results of what are popularly
called “chills,” may be traced to the practice of
wearing overcoats which arrest the ordinary
process of evaporation, cause the clothing with
in to be saturated with accumulated perspira
tion, and are then removed, when rapid cooling
takes place. The avoidance of this peril is to
be attained by such change of coats'as condi
tions require.
Another Cure for Stammering. — A
writer in the .PonxZer Sb/ence News gives the
following as a method for the cure of stammer
ing: “Go into a room where you will be quiet
and alone, get some book that will interest, but
not excite you, sit down and read two hour®
aloud to yourself, keeping the teeth closed. Do
the same*thing every two or three days or once
a week if very tiresome, always taking care to
read slowly and distinctly, moving the lips but
not the teeth.
Cast in Bronze.—At a recent popular
assembly in Paris, a speaker parenthetically in
quired : “ Why don’t the great men of Paris be
stir themselves ? Why do they remain cold
and unmoved at the calamities of our country ?”
“ Because they are cast in bronze,” came from
a sarcastic voice in the gallery.
Debility
Languor, and Loss of Appetite, are cured
by the use of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. This
medicine relieves that sense of Constant
Weariness, from which so many suffer,
purifies, invigorates, and vitalizes the
blood, gives tone and vigor to the
stomach, and restores the appetite, health,
and strength more, surely and speedily
than any other remedy.
Positive Proof,
Two years ago I suffered from Loss of
Appetite and Debility, the result of Liver
Disease. After having tried various rem
edies, and several physicians, without re
ceiving any benefit, I began taidng Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla. The first bottle produced a
marked change, and the second and tliird
accompiisiied so much that I felt like a
new man. I have, since that time, taken
about one bottle every year, and had no
recurrence of the trouble. —.VVUHam E.
Way, East Lempster, N. 11.
If anv one suffering from General De
bilitv, Want of Appetite, Depression of
Spirits, and Lassitude will use Ayer’s-Sar
sapariHa,
I am confident a cure will result therefrom.
I have used it, and speak from experi
ence. —F. O. Loring, Brockton, Mass.
Sold by Druacistfl. Price $1 • aix bottle., tA.