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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, May 01, 1887, Image 6

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85026214/1887-05-01/ed-1/seq-6/

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you ©all me an angel of love and light,
A being of goodness and heavenly fire,
Bent out from God's kingdom to guide you aright
In paths where your spirit may mount and
You say that I glow like a star on its course,
Like a ray from the alter, a spark from the source.
Bow list to my answer; let all the world hear it;
1 speak unafraid what I know to be true;
A pure, faithful love is the creative spirit
That makes women angels. I live but in you.
Wo are bound soul to soul by life’s holiest laws.
And If I am an angel, why, you are the cause.
As my ship skims the sea I look up from her deck.
Fair, firm at the wheel shines love’s beautiful
And shall I scorn the bark that last night went to
By the pilot abandoned to darkness and storm ?
My craft was no stauncher; she too had been lost
Bad the wheelman deserted or slept at his post.
I laid down the wealth of my soul at your feet
(Some woman does this for some man every day).
Ko desperate creature who walks in the street
Has a wickeder heart than I might have, I say,
Bad you wantonly misused the treasures you won,
And so many men with heart riches have done.
This fire from God’s altar, this holy love flame
That burns like sweet incense lorever for you,
Might now be a wild conflagration of shame,
Had you tortured my heart or been base or un
For angels and devils are oast in one mold,
Till love guides them upward or downward, I hold.
1 tell you. the women that make fervent wives
And sweet tender mothers, had fate been less
Are the women that might have abandoned their
To the madness that springs from and ends in
As the fire on the hearth, which sheds brightness
Neglected may level the walls to the ground.
The world makes grave errors in judging these
Great good and great evil are born in one breast.
Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings,
And the best could bo worst, and the worst could be
You may thank your own worth for what I grew to
For the demon lurked under the angel in me I
A green valley, dotted with low, white farm
houses—almost dazzlingly white in the golden
morning sunshine. A range of bills, sharp, un
dulating, dimly defined against the summer
»ky, rose up like a green indented wall on the
western side, while away to the east a broad
river flowed sluggishly between willow-fringed
banks, its silvery surface reflecting the shafts ot
light that shot, arrow-like, through the inter
laced branches of the trees. Fat, sleek cattle
stood knee-deep in the cool pools along the
sedgy shore ; a flock of ducks floated lazily
down the stream, and on a mossy knoll under a
clump of alders, white with bunches of feathery
blossoms, a young girl sat, with her brown
hands clasped about her knees, idly watching
this peacetul Summer idyl.
She was not, strictly speaking, a handsome
girl, but her face had a wierd charm of its own.
For her large, long-lashed eyes, were simply
wonderful; black as midnight, full of a tender,
velvety lustre—eyes, that like a serpent’s,
seemed to draw you out of yourself and im
pressed the most unimpressible with a sense of
their fatal fascinating power. Her skin was as
brown as a berry, a dash of crimson on the
round, soft cheek’s, but her mouth was too large
to be beautiful, and the nut-brown hair that
curled about her neck, was coarse and uncared
Any keen observer could tell at a glance that
Millicent Carr was, like some imprisoned bird,
Struggling to shake oft the shackles of her bond
age ; for life at the farm-house, not a stone’s
throw from the river-side, was simply unbear
able to the girl, who longed with a longing she
could not understand, for a wider field of labor
or enjoyment, or both. Why she had been cre
ated with desires above the common plane—
desires that lifted her up, as it were, above the
dull hum-drum farm life, which had been the
delight of her thriity forefathers’ hearts, she
could not tell. But they were there, deeply
rooted in the unsatisfied soul, and, as day after
day of patient study developed the latent force
and untutored genius of a powerful mind, she
grew restless, and abhorred the slightest menial
task. A dreamer by nature, an idle, useless
drone in that busy household, she reared her
castles in the air, only to see them crumble into
atoms when brought into contact with some
coarse reality.
And this continual fretting after the unattain
able, the shadow of discontent that forever
stood between her and the sunlight, was gradu
ally sapping the blithenees out of her youthful
“ Millicentl” A sharp voice broke the almost
eolemn stillness, and every nerve m Millicent’s
Hthe body quivered at the sound. Sho gathered
herself up, glanced wistfully outward at the
silvery surface of the river, then turned up a
narrow path that led homeward, sullen, silent,
rebellious—a smothered fire in the great black
There was no eagerness in her movements as
she went across the neat lawn and entered the
kitchen garden, with its straight rows of vege
tables that always aggravated Millicent with
their homely sameness. She paused in the door
way of the clean, cheerful kitchen, the wind
tossed tendrils of a luxuriant vine that sheltered
it touching her hair, and a softened expression
came into her eyes as she drew a spray across
her lips. Her mother, a robust matron of fifty,
turned her heated face toward her.
“ Come and stir this jelly,” she commanded
in no gentle voice, for Millicent’s idle, shiftless
ways were a sore trial to her mother. “The
girls are in the milk-room, and I must make the
pudding for dinner.”
Millicent obeyed, as she always did, in sul
len silence, stirring the jelly in a slow mechan
ical way, her eyes fixed on the bits of landscape
visible through the swaying vines. Far down
the valley a train of cars was swiftly rounding
curve, and Millicent’s pulses leaped as she
thought of the impossible distances into which
they wero rushing, and the longing came into
her’heart with redoubled force—the longing to
go beyond those green-indented hills and min
gle with the world.
“ Millicent 1” screamed her mother, with ft
wrathful accent on the last syllable, “you have
let that jelly scorch—l smell it!”
“Oh 1” Millicent stepped aside as her mother
rushed from the pantry and whisked the kettle
off the stove. “I thought it was doing all
She slyly picked up her limp sun bonnet and
nervously drew the strings through her fingers,
feeling hot and uncomfortable.
“Well, of all the useless creatures inexist
ence, you beat them !” ejaculated Mrs. Carr, as
Bhe poured the burned mixture into a clean ves
sel. “ And the kettle is ruined too 1 What will
become of you ?”
“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said Millicent, with
a disgusted expression on her brown lace.
“ What can I do now ?”
“ What you are best at—nothing.”
And Mrs. Carr, too thoroughly vexed to utter
another word, went back to her work in the pan
try, while Millicent, left to her own humiliating
reflections, went slowly out into the golden sun
shine. Her father and brothers were in a dis
tant hayfield, their blithe voices ringing out in
cheerful converge; her sisters, busy in the milk
room, hummed snatches of old songs, and feel
ing her own helplessness not a little, Millicent
—sullen and dissatisfied—strayed down to the
river side and threw herself down on the mossy
knoll under the alders.
“ I wish I were dead.” she muttered, shutting
her white, even teeth with a vicious snap. “ For
I’m only one of the fruitless trees you read
about in scripture.”
She clasped her brown hands about her head,
and fixing her black eyes on the shifting sun
light overhead was soon fast asleep.
“ Milly ! Milly !” called a voice that instantly
unlocked Millicent’s slumbering senses; “ wake
up and welcome me.”
Millicent Carr sat bolt upright, and stared up
at the fair Saxon face of tho speaker—a slender,
Btylish man of thirty, who was leaning against
the trunk of a tree, his straw hat lying at his
feet. And the dash of crimson in Millicent'a
cheeks crept up to the roots of her hair, as the
Steely blue eyes met hers.
•• Mr.—Mr.—Esterbrook,” she stammered, as
Bhe rose to her feet blushing furiously; for in
tuitively she felt he was making a mental in
ventory of her apparel, which from the limp
sun-bonnet, down to the untidy shoes, was de
cidedly unattractive.
“ Mr. Esterbrook,” he mimicked. “If I re
member rightly, you called me * Howard ’ two
years ago.”
“ Eid I ? Ido not remember,” was Milli
cent’s reply, as she vigorously frayed out -the
ends of her sun-bonnet strings, her face a pic>
tars of demure innocence, although in her
heart Millicent remembered more than she
would like tofadmit—remembered long golden
hours, sunny rambles, and words that had
stirred her girlish heart with their subtle sweet
ness. And it Millicent could have analyzed her
present discontent, she would have found its
root in that Summer’s intercourse with Howard
•‘ Ah,” the lazy musical voice was very sweet
te her ears, “ you were but a child then, Milli
cent. How old are you ?”
She glanced up at him, a questioning look in
her beautiful eves.
“ What wonderful eyes you have, Millicent,”
he said, his handsome face flushing slightly be
neath her keen glance; “ they seem to look into
ene’s very soul.”
“Do they.” with a short sweet laugh; “ well,
what do they see?”
“Tell me,” he urged banteringly, “good or
Both, Mr. Esterbrook,” was Millicent’s curt
reply, for some phases of Howard Esterbrook’s
character had shown a shallowness and insin
cerity that Millicent’s stable and deep nature
could not appreciate.
“ I am not different from my fellow-men, am
I?” he laughed uneasily. “‘We all sin. and
come short of the truth,’ you know.”
“You never came back, and! thought you
were dead.”
“ Consoling thought, was it not ? Well, lam
like the traditional baa penny, Bure to turn up.
(Had to see me, Milly.
“I—l—guess so,” rather dubiously.
••You guess so 1” He went over to her, and
leaked dowp at her ß at if he saw lome charm in
the brown face. “Milly, I know you are; I see
it in your eyes.”
“My eyes are telling an untruth then, for I
am not glad to see you; you-spoiled my life.”
“I?” he lilted his straight brows in amaze
“Yes, you 1” cried Millicent. “I never was
content, never. My life was too tame and
quiet—l wanted change, excitement, travel. You
lifted me out of myself—showed me pictures of
the ideal world-ofmy dreams. Then you left
me—more miserable than ever—every hour of
my life a drag.”
“Poor little soul!” he said gently. “I do
not wonder existence in this dead-and-alive val
ley grows wearisome. It’s too dull—too tame,
as you say—for a girl oi progressive tastes.
Let us begin our friendship over again, Milly,
and I will do my utmost to brighten—not dark
en—your future.”
A promise he meant to keep in the spirit, if
not in the letter. Not that he had anj’ well de
fined plan of action; lor his indolent, selfish na
ture was not partial to either physical or men
tal exertion. He had never been forced to
make any unusual effort to fill his niche in the
world, for his niche had been carved for him,
and he did his utmost to enjoy the benefits of
his position. So, with matchless adaptation
and genial, easy grace, he fell into the quiet
routine oi farm life at the Carr homestead, and
taught idle, useless Millicent how to fill up her
hitherto spiritless hours. Long rambles among
the fields and over the wooded hills, unearth
ing the beauties and curiosities of Nature,
brought out all the hidden charms of the girl’s
disposition, broadened her views, and enlarged
her intellect, until the hungry heart was satis
fied and the light ot an almost perfect content
filled the wOnderfiil eyes.
Not that Howard Esterbrook ever committed
himself, by stomach as a look. He treated Mil
licent in a gentle, brotherly way, that the eyes
of any girl accustomed to the world and its ad
miration would have seen at a glance was no
deeper feeling. But Millicent—heart-hungry,
starving for sympathy and appreciation—exag
gerated every word, gesture and action, and
lived in a sort of “ seventh heaven” rapture,
that was too blissful to be real.
“ Well, Milly,”—they were standing under the
alders at the close of a sultry midsummer day
—“we have had a pleasant Summer.”
“Del ghtful I ’ breathed Millicent, her brown
face hot with blushes.
“And I am heartily sorry it’s over,” said
Howard Esterbrook, gravely stroking his mus
tache. “And when lam gone, I trust you will
not miss me as much as you did two years ago.
1 think 1 have taught you to enjoy lite; tor, with
your knowledge ot botany, sketching and chem
istry, life need never be ’joyless, Milly.”
Millicent’s heart sank like lead in her bosom,
and the black, velvety lustre of her eyes were
dimmed with unshed'tears as she looked away
from him out at the sparkling waiters of the
river. Dipily. she comprehended that this man
oi the world, rich in everything that makes lite
a luxliry, looked down on her, pitied her as he
would have pitied a discontented child, and
never dreamed—or if he did, put the knowl
edge aside—that this brown-faced girl had
learned the lesson that, sooner or later, all wo
men must learn, and learned it to her sorrow.
Her heart rose up in hot rebellion against him.
Could he not see, and seeing, understand ?
“ You will come back —some time ? 5 she fal
tered, with averted face.
“ Sometime—perchance never.”
Howard Esterbrook watched her curiously,
for to do him justice, he did not realize the
havoc he had wrought. She had born to him
an interesting and amusing pupil—nothing
more, whose plastic mind had greedily de
voured the knowledge he had so lazily meted
out to her; for, as I have said before, ho was
not disposed to over-exert either mind or
But, as for loving her, well, that was simply
out of the For this brown, uncul
tured girl, with no beauty save her wonderful
eyes, and no dower but a few fertile acres,
could never be the wife of an Esterbrook.
Yet he felt unaccountably drawn toward her ;
felt that if she had been of higher birth and
gentler breeding he would have gladly taken
her Wbis heart, confident of finding his great
est happiness in the strong, true nature that,
out pfi its own fullness, could give power and
firmness to his less vigorous temperament.
“ You will soon forget me, Milly, and marry
some worthy young farmer,” he said, in hi's
gentle, musical voice. “ I am a confirmed
bachelor—a decade of years older than you—
and too fond of my freedom to take on the
shackles of matrimony.”
“ I—l will never marry—never !” cried Milli
cent, suddenly losing control of her feelings,
and bursting into a passion of sobs, startling in
their vehemence ; “ lor I love no man but you. ’
“ Great Scott I” was Esterbrook’s mental
ejaculation. “ How am Ito pacify her '?’
“ Milly, Milly,” he said, aloud, “ you must
not talk so. Remember, we are only friends.”
“ Only friends!” sho interrupted, wildly. “ I
—I thought you meant to marry me and take
me out of this.”
She broke off into a hysterical fit of weeping,
and Howard Esterbrook, his selfish nature
stirred at her misery, took the shaking form in
his arms and quieted her with incoherent prom
ises ot Jove and protection.
“ Would you leave home and friends—forsake
your pure, quiet life and go with me Milly '?’ he
questioned, inwardly anathematizing her folly
and his own blindness.
“ To the ends of the world—anywhere,’’ mur
mured Milly, her brain dazed with the visions
of the happinefts she would enjoy as his wife.
She nestle(Fvpiosar to him ; and years after,
when she was an old, gray-haired but famous
woman, she could almost feel the pressure of
the strong arms about her and his warm, loving
kisses on her lips. “We must tell father, “ she
went on, her lips tremulous with joy.
“ Not for the world!” he hastily exclaimed.
“ Millicent, your parents are peculiar ; they
would never consent, if you come with me,
you must come secretly.”
Millicent protested, but he told her plainly
she must abide by bis decision. He gave what
to her seemed sufficient reasons for the secrecy,
and Millicent yielded, too deeply infatuated to
question the wisdom ot bis desires, consenting
to join him at the out-of-the-way station of Oak
wood, five miles distant, the following evening.
“ You can walk that distance, Millicent ?”
“I?” she laughed merrily, “I would walk
thrice that distance to be with you.”
The following morning, Howard Esterbrook,
settled his board bill, and departed, to the
manifest regret of the Carr family, for bis
genial, easy ways, had made him a general
favorite. Supper at the farm house on those
long and mid-Summer days was always late,
and when the family gathered round the table,
Mflifcent.was missing.
7* Where’s Millicent?” inquired her father—a
rugged, sensible man—looking around the circle
of youthful faces.
“ Gone to Aunt Hildreth’s,” replied the
Hiram, a lad of fifteen, who had been to a
distant town that afternoon, looked up uneasily:
“ Mother, I saw Milly at Oakwood station as
our train came down this evening. That Ester
brook fellow was with her.”
“ Landsakes 1” ejaculated Mrs. Carr, rising
from the table in consternation, “ our Milli
“ Yes, our Milly,” declared the lad. “ She
saw me too, for sho got as red as a beet, and
tried to hide behind a post.”
“Drat that scoundrel,” cried Mr. Carr rising
from bis untasted food, “ I’ll flog the life out of
him, if he wrongs my child. This is what comes
ot keening Summer boarders 1”
He left th® house to go in search of Millicent,
and Mrs. Carr covering her face with her apron,
sat rocking herself to and fro, in silent grief.
Millicent’s sisters, two practical girls, who had
taken Esterbrook’s attentions to themselves at
their true value, hastily finished their supper,
and went up to Millicent’s attic chamber in
search of some explanation of the mystery, but
none j-vyas forthcoming; not even her scanty
wardrobe could be found, and the family gave
themselves up to grief and recriminations; for
Millicent, who had never been considered
“ worth her salt,” now seemed of almost price
less value.
Meanwhile, Howard Esterbrook and Millicent
were impatiently awaiting the delayed train at
Oakwood. They paced the platform amid the
gathering shadows of evening, Millicent’s feel
ings oscillating like a pendulem between joy
and misery, for the sight of Hiram’s honest
boyish face at the coach-window of tho home
ward train, had acted like a cold bath on the
elasticity of her hopes. Esterbrook too, was
dull and preoccupied. True his vanity was
flattered by Millicent’s passionate devotion, but
he loved culture, style and patrician tastes, and
as he looked down at the lithe figure at his side
—a figure that lacked the grace of movement
and dignity of bearing, that come natural to
many women—clad in dark cloth, the short curls
peeping out from under the rim ot the plain
sailor hat, he mentally wondered if this Quixotic
elopement of his, would not prove a failure.
Marry her he must, as there was no other
honorable way of repairing the misehief ho had
wrought, and, it was equally certain that, lor
social reasons, the marriage must be a secret
one ; for, until Millicent was fitted to occupy
her place in society, he must keep her secluded
from all criticizing eyes. But would that ever
be? True, Millicent was a marvelous child of
Nature. Her depth of mind and keenness of
intellect was almost beyond his own compre
hension, but there was peculiarities oi birth
and breeding that might defy the polish of re
fining influences. And his Saxon face grew cold
and forbidding as the many disadvantages of
the case presented themselves to his mind.
Millicent, as they paced to and fro, grew wea
ry, and felt her heart failing her; for she felt,
rather than saw, the change in him. Poor little
soul 1 The flush deepened on her cheeks as
she thought with what devoted, humble faith
fulness she would serve him for his goodness
to her, and the wonderful eyes glowed with
love as she thought of the future before her.
A phaeton, drawn by two dappled ponies,
drove up to the platform, and, as two ladies
alighted, an exclamation of consternation es
caped Esterbrook.
“Millicent,” he said, in a hurried whisper,
“ go into the waiting-room—quick !”
Millicent obeyed, and lull of girlish curiosity,
seated herself at the open window.
“ Why, Howard,” cried the younger of the
ladies, a dainty little beauty, with fluffy yellow
curls about her delicate face, “ what are you
doing in this out-of-the-way place '?’
“ Waiting lor a train to carry me back to civ
ilization,” he said, laughingly, but gnawing hie
mustache in vexation.
From the fragments of the conversation that
floated to her, Millicent gathered that the
younger lady was going back to the city alone.
“O, Howard,” she cried, clinging to’his arm
in a trusting, childish way, “you will take care
“Certainly, Allie,” he replied, in his gentle,
half-careless way.
He never glanced toward Millicent, although
he felt the black eyes were on him, for their
mesmeric power was wonderful. She felt, as
the twilight deepened into dusk, he was, as it
were, drifting out of her reach, for he ignored
her presence altogether. Slowly the scales
dropped away from her eyes, and she saw the
diflereece between her world and his He was
ashamed of her 1 Of her who worshiped the
very ground he trod on—ot her who would have
suffered death rather than give him a treacher
ous or neglectful thought. The train came
thundering around ft curue, and Esterbrook,
hastily entering the waiting-room, said curtly:
“Follow me; but do not speak to me, or no
tice me in any way.”
Millicent rose up, the dash of crimson on her
cheeks burning like two spots of flume, and her
great eyes full of the shame that had stricken
her dumb.
But she did not follow him. He glanced back
ward, as he entered the car, and saw her glid
ing out into the misty twilight, her brown face,
full of misery and reproach, set homeward.
But he consoled his conscience with the reflec
tion that Mil!cent had doubtless seen her error
and drew back in time.
The mists hung low over the valley. A sickle
moon touched them with a faint silvery radiance,
as Mr. Carr, after his fruitless search, reached
his own doorway and found Millicent huddled
up in a dejected heap on the stoop.
“Father, I ran away,” she sobbed humbly,
“ and when I came back the door was shut.”
“Thank God it was not forever I” said Mr.
Carr, taking Millicent in his arms and kissi-ng
her as he had never kissed her since her baby
* * * » »
Ten years later Howard Esterbrook, still un
married, was lounging on a hotel piazza at New
port, when a friend pointed out to him a famous
authoress—a graceful, queenly woman, with
midnight eyes and a proud, olive-tinted face.
“Millicent Carr I” he exclaimed, suddenly
discovering she was the one woman in all the
world for him.
He sought her out, and begged for a renewal
of their old friendship.
“No, Mr. Esterbrook,” she said coldly; “I
have, as you see, lived down that lolly. Hence
forth our paths lie apart.”
(From the St. Ixmis Globe-Democrat.)
April has an important place in American an
nals. A great deal o* history has been made iu
this month. In April the war of Independence
begun, and in April the Government of the
United States under the Constitution was form
ally brought into being. The war between the
States began and ended in April, and in April
Lincoln, one of the most typ cal of Americans,
and one of the most illustrious of men, was
struck down by the assassrn’s hand.
The anniversaries oi many notable events in
American h.story have come, or will come, in
the present mouth. On the first of the month,
just ninety-eight years ago, the House of Repre
sentatives first assembled under the Constitu
tion, to be followed five days later by the con
vening of the Senate. On the last day of April
in the same year George Washington was inau
gurated, and the Government of the United
States launched into existence.
About three-quarters of a century later a
series of events occurred which gave April a
new title to remembrance. On April 12, 1861,
Sumter was fired on and the civil war begun.
Two days later the fort was captured by the
rebels, and on the day following President
Lincoln issued a proclamation calling for volun
teers to suppress the rebellion and restore the
authority of the Government over the territory
and property held by the insurgents.
On the 19th the Massachusetts troops were
attacked in Baltimore while going to the relief
of the National (Capitol, and on that day was
shed the first blood which flowed in the civil
war, as on the same day seventy-two years be
fore, at the battle oi Lexington, fell the first
men who wore killed in the war of the Revolu
In the April following, on tho Cth and 7th
days of the month, was fought one of the blood
iest battles of history, and one ot the most im
portant which took place in the first half of the
civ.l war. This was the battle ot Shiloh.
Tho events of April, 18H5, if the month pos
sessed no other claims to historical recogni
tion, would make it forever memorable in
American annals. Richmond was evacuated
April 2d, Lee surrendered on the ‘Jth, and on
tho 1 !th, while the country was rejoicing at the
conclusion ot hostilities and the advent of
peace, Lincoln was assassinated by Wilkes
Booth. On the 26th Booth was killed by his
pursuers, and on the same day Johnston’s army
surrendered to Sherman, and the rebellion was
If a parallel is drawn between the April last
referred to and April, 188/'', it will be noted that
the moral forces by which the world is domi
nated have been busy in tho interval. In April,
1865, the United States was the filth nation in
the world m population, Russia, Ger
many and Austria outranking it in number ot
inhabitants. To-day it is the second. In the
twenty-two years which have passed between
that April and the one just closed, the United
States, in point ot population, has passed
France, Germany and Austria. In April, 190 Z,
twenty-one years hence, it will have forged
ahead of Russia, and become the most popu
lous, as it will also be the most powerful and
important, ot the world’s great States.
There is something poetical and impressive
in the strides which the United States has made
in population since April, 1865. At that tmo
34,000,000 inhabitants resided within the bor
ders of this country. To-day it contains 61,000-
000. In those twenty-two years the population
has been almost doubled. There has been
added to tho inhabitants of the country more
people than now reside in the United
states west of the Mississippi river, although
that sect on of the country contains tho States
of (Minnesota, lowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Lou
isiana, Nebraska, Kansas, Texas, Colorado,
Oregon, Nevada and California, and all the
Territories. Tile increase in population, in
deed, in the period named, is greater than the
entire number ol inhabitants oi Spain and her
colonies, four times as great as the population
ot Norway and Swedem combined, more than
three times as great as that of Portugal and all
her colonial dependencies, and fully equal to the
number ot inhabitants contained at this mo
ment in Italy or England and Wales.
In the interval that has passed since the as
sassination ot Abraham Lincoln 8,000,060 immi
grants have arrived in this country. This num
ber is greater than the entire population at the
present time of Persia or Egypt, nearly as great
as that ot Mexico or Brazil, and equal to the
combined population of Missouri, Illinois and
Indiana in 1880. Within those years more peo
ple removed to this country from the British
islands than the entire population of Liverpool,
Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds and Sheffield
to-day, and more from England alone than the
present number ot inhabitants ot the two first
named cities. For every one person living in
Dublin to-dav Ireland contributed five to the
population of the United States within the time
re erred to. Scotland sent more of her children
in that period than are now living in Edinburgh.
The entire population of Berlin at the present
hour is but little more than half as great as the
number of Germans who have made their homes
in the United States since 1865.
But few men now m the service of the coun
try were in public office in April twenty-two
years ago. Of the members of the Thirty-ninth
Congress, which body, theoretically, came into
existence on March 4th, 1865, scarcely a dozen
are now members of our National Legislature.
Senators Morrill, of Vermont; Sherman, of
Ohio; Dawes, ot Massachusetts; Cullom, ot
Illinois ; Voorhees, of Indiana, and Stewart, of
Nevada, with Representatives Kelley, Randall
and O’Neill, of Pennsylvania; Holman, of In
diana ; Baker, of Illinois, and Allison, of lowa,
comprise about all the present members of Con
gress who were in Congress then. Most of the
other members of the Thirty-ninth Congress
have left public office forever, and more than
three-fourths of them are dead.
Of the men who constituted Lincoln’s Cabinet
at the time of his assassination, Hugh McCul
lough, so far as is known to the writer, is the
only one who is living. Seward, Secretary of
State; Stanton, Secretary of War; Welles, Secre
tary of the Navy; Usher, Secretary of the In
terior ; Dennison, Postmaster-General, and
Speed, Attorney-General, are dead. Dead, too,
are Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln as Presi
dent; Chase, who was Chief Justice of the Su
preme Court; Colfax, who was Speaker of the
House of Representatives oi the Thirty-ninth
Congress, and Grant, who was at the head of the
army. Of the men who are now prominent in
politics, literature or business in the United
States few, indeed, were known by name outside
the ward in which they resided on the day when
Lee’s veterans stacked arms for the last time.
(From the Pittsburg Penny Press.)
Those are very peculiar circumetaneee, eaid a
fourth member of tha symposium. Did yon
read that story in the Century war notes about
th. man whom presentiment told to jump, just
at the moment when a shell whizzed under his
feet. Well, 1 witnessed something almost exact
ly on the same plan. The directors of a railroad
had left a certain city to come to Pittsburg, trav
eling on a special car. Soon after their depart
ure they discovered that they had left their vice
president, so they had to go back after him.
Well, they made a second start, and soon were
making rapid headway toward this city. On
board were, among the rest, the superintend
ents of the eastern and western divisions of the
road respectively. The train was on the eastern
division at the time, so that the superintendent
of that portion of the road did not like it whan
his western colleague came to him and asked
“ whether he h d his schedule.”
“ I have,” he replied tersely.
“ Are you auro ?” asked the other.
“ Certainly I’m sure, sir, or I would not say
The other superintendent left him, but came
hack in a few moments and said:
“ Excuse me, sir, but tell be, are you certain
you have your schedule all right ?”
“Do you mean to insult me, sir ?” replied the
other. “ Don’t yon think I know my business ?
Oi course I have my schedule.”
The man from the West retreated again, and
the Eastern .uperintendent turned to the
President and exclaimed:
" I guess Mr. has had a little too much.
He acts like a drunken man.”
What was his surprse, when he looked up,
to see the Westerner once more stand before
him with au agonized expression on his iace,
and bear him exclaim:
“I’or God’s sake, sir, tell me 1 Are you ab
solutely sure of your schedule?”
"I answered you twice,” replied the other.
” Well, I don’t belie'e it,” cried the anxions
one in a tone of determination, and at the eamo
instant be grasped the bell-rope, and in a quick,
jerky manner gave the signal to stop. Tho air
brakes acted eo suddenly that everybody w»e
thrown forward. The engineer seemed to feel
something wrong, for lie reversed his lever,
opened the throttle wide and jumped, together
with the fireman. And not a moment too soon.
Tor, beloro they got fairly ont of the way a
frerght train came dashing around the curve
and knocked that locomotive and tender into
No oue was hurt, except the superintendent
of the Eastern Division. His feelings were
wounded. The Westerner never knew what
made him do what he did.
“ Humph ! but you are wearing your father’s
hat 1” be said, as he kicked over the fence at
the other boy.
“ I know it-!’’ was the reply.
“ Hey ! but you are 1”
“ Not much 1 ain’t! A feller who ean’t make
use oi his lather hadn’t orter have one I”
“That’s the City Hall, isn't it,bub?” he asked
of a newsboy as be pointed With his cane at the
“ No, sir; that’s the Penitentiary,” was the
prompt reply.
“Oh—l see,” continued the man as he lowered
the cane. “ You want me to understand that
the Common Gounod meets here. Yes—ah—
yes. I see. Smart boy - very smart.”
An old market woman, driving a skin and
bone horse up Randolph street the other day,
saw a brass band coining down and she made
haste to «et out of the wagon and take the ani
mal by the bits.
“ 1 shouldn’t think you’d be afraid of that
horse running away,” sneered a boy who was
interested in the performance.
“ I ain’t.”
“ Then what are you holding him for
“ I’m afraid he might fall down 1”
The captain of a Detroit tug boat turned a
corner on Twelfth street the other day to run
plump against the owner of the craft. Both re
bounded and looked at each other for a moment,
and then the owner exclaimed:
“ I’ll bet yo-u were going down there to see
the fortune teller 1”
“ Well, to be honest, I was,” replied the cap
“ What did vou want to see her about?”
“ Why, I wanted to ask her if there was any
prospect of yoar raising my wages.”
“ Well, you needn’t go.”
“ Why ? ’
“Because he went into a trance and advised
me to cut yon down ten dollars per month, and
I was just going to the office to give you the
news I”
A young lady had finally been persuaded to
approach the piano, and she was look ng for
the music ot “The Old Gaken Bucket,” when
a tired-looking bld lady advanced and whis
pered :
“ My dear, is this that same old song ?”
“ Yes’m.”
“Same oaken bucket and well ‘r’
“ Yes’m.”
“Same man comes up and draws water ?”
“ Then excuse me, please. Ho was my hus
band ;it was our well; I fell into it one day,
and he was an hour and a half pulling me out.
Did it to spite me; but he’s dead, now, and 1
don’t want to have the past recalled.”
And she went up stairs to wait for the well to
run dry.
“Vhill you hat somotings in my line to-day ?’
ho blandly queried, as the young man stopped
in front ot the clothing store.
“ No, I guess not.”
“ No goats nor pants *?’
“ 1 sell you a two-dollar hat for twelve shil
‘ I’ve got hats enough. I’m just waiting for
a car.”
“ Say 1 let me show you sometings. Look at
dot linen duster. He vhas oudt of a new lot.
Shust come in dis morning. I sell you ”
“Oh, no you don’t! 1 know all about linen
“ I sell you dot duster for two dollar.”
“Not any. 1 bought one two or three years
ago, and 1 got my eye-teeth cut.”
“My irendt, bow vhas dose eye-teeth cut ?’
“ Why, the durn thing wasn’t gr.od for any
thing except to travel in, and 1 never traveled a
rod all that year !”
In the last days of March two windmill agents
called on a Wayne county farmer at the same
time, and under the circumstances each felt it
incumbent on him to do his level best to make
a sale. One talked, and then the other talked,
and then both talked at once, and each talked
so well that the farmer could not make up his
mind which mill to take. He finally said :
“ Gentlemen, I soo only one way to do. You
are both about of a size, and you can come out
to the barn, peel off your coats and go at it.
The one who licks makes a sale.”
The agents agreed, and in a few minutes were
hard at it. They upset the fanning-mill, smashed
in the granary door, broke the hind spring o:
the family carriage, and a young calf
into fits as they thrashed around, and as the
aiternoon waned and the sun began to go down
without either man giving in, the farmer, who
was roosting on the hay-mow for safety, called
down :
“Gentlemen, the referee decides this fight a
draw, and yon kin wash off the blood and take
my order fur both wind-milts 1”
Two rather seedy-looking individuals met at
a down-town corner yesterday, and greeted each
other with effusion.
“ What you doin’, cull ?” asked one. *
“Selling clothes-wringers. What’r vou do
in’ ?”
“Ain’t doin’ nothin’ now, except nursing
this,” indicating a black eye.
“ How d’ you get it ? ’
“ Got it doin’ the rescue biz in Toledo.”
“Rescue biz ! What’s that?”
“ Well, you aro green. Me an’ a pal o’ mine
made good money out of it in Cleveland and af
terward in Toledo. He was a big feller, and
could eat me alive. He’d dress kind o’ slouchy
and I’d keep myself up in pretty fair shape.
We’d strike a lonely street in a kind of swell
neighborhood, he taking one side ot the street
and I the other, and walk along until he saw a
lady that looked as if she had cash. If there
wasn’t any one about he’d go up and speak to
her. Of course this would frighten her half to
death, but he’d just stick and try to walk with
her. Then my turn would come. I'd sail across
the street, big as life, an’ say:
“ ‘ Madame, do you know this man ?’
“ ‘ No, sir,’ she'll say.
“ ‘ls he annoying you?’
“ • Ye®, sir?
“Then I’d tell Jack to go about bis business;
he’d give me some talk, and I’d let out a mighty
savage looking blow that wouldn’t kill a fly.
He d go to grass as if he was shot, and then got
up an’ run like a whitehead. I’d walk a block
or two with the lady, giving her a great talk
about bein’ a stranger in town, out oi a job, an’
I almost always got a good tip. Once I got
twenty dollars, an’ what I didn’t want—a job.”
“ Where’d you get the eye ?”
“Oh, that was last week. My pal got full, an’
when I let out at him he says: ‘ You miserable
little rooster, i’ll teach you to make a crack at
an adult!’ an’ gave me a paste where you see it.
That broke up our partnership.”
(F’rom Ike Boston Budget.)
There are so many ways to utilize stale bread
that it seems a wonder so much is wasted in
many households, it makes delicious griddle
cakes when soaked soft in cold water. Three
small slices, with water enough to cover them,
should be sufficient, when the milk and flour
are added, to make nearly two quarts of batter.
Some cooks prefer to put in one egg, while
others like them fully as well without. When
tho bread is soaked soft make it fine with a
epoon, add the milk and sufficient flour to stiffen
enough so the cakes can be easily turned. If
sour milk be used, add to the batter one even
teaspoon of creamtartar, dissolved in a little
water, and one even teaspoon of soda. This is
a good plan to follow in all uses of sour milk,
as it seldom contains enough acid to entirely
counteract the soda. Of course when only a
small quantity ot sour milk is used twice as
much creamtartar as soda should be taken, for
when the milk is entirely sweet the proportions
are three even teaspoons of creamtartar to one
of aoda.
Fresh toast is always a favorite dish with chil
dren and most grown people, and can be made
of thin slices cut from a stale loaf and moistened
in milk and egg, two eggs to a pint of milk, and
then tried on a griddle with a mixture of butter
and lard, or butter and beef drippings. It is
eaten with sugar or syrup, like griddle cakes.
Of course all our readers are familiar with
the ordinary bread puddings, but all may not
know that pieces or bread which are not too
hard, can be made into a resemblance of tur
key dressing. Cut your bread into dice, and if
you have a quantity of gravy from which fat can
be taken, le!t from any kind of roast (though a
piece of butter will do as well), thoroughly
grease the bottom of the spider; put in the
bread, with some little chunks of butter and
plenty ol seasoning, then pour enough boiling
water on to moisten it, cover tightly, and in a
moment it will steam through and you can etir
it, and either brown a little or have it moist,
like dressing. It should be served with gravy
over it and ia a good substitute for potatoes.
The little dry hard pieces and crusts which
always accumulate, can be put on a pie-tin in
an oven that is just hot enough to dry and make
them a light brown, then roll them fine and put
away to usein making croquettes, frying fish,
etc, ]Ye haye recent!/ learned that those
slightly browned crumbs make excellent grid
dle cakes, with the addition of one egg and a
handful of flour and milk to make a batter, but
as we have never tasted them we can only rec
ommend it as worthy of trial.
There is a desirable house for sale on Madi
son avenue. It is for sale because it does not
let easily, rather, the tenants do not stay. They
are perpetually moving In and in a lew weeks
moving out.
On dit, that the house is haunted !
The last family that lived in the house will
not give any reason for their hurried removal,
but remain gloomily 811601 on the sub.out.
But a family living in it previously have
stated what they believe is the truth—there is a
ghost who walks at night and makes himself
generally disagreeable. The family consisted
of a mother and several charming girls. A
young man—a widower withone child—boarded
with thorn.
One night, Mr. went to the opera-house,
taking his little girl with him. At 9 o’clock the
family was gathered in the sitting room, the
doors of which were open, when they heard Mr.
“He must have left before the play was over,”
suggested one of the yoting ladies.
“Carrie walks as it she was very tired, ,s re
marked another.
They distinctly heard the two go up stairs
walk along the hall, and enter their own room,
“ Mr. must be ill,” said the mother, “ I
shall go up soon and see if he wants anything.”
Before that time the front door was opened
with a latch-key, and the identical Mr. ,
with his little girl came in, the child bounding
into the room to see her friends.
“Did you go out again?” asked Mrs.
“We went out after supper. We have just
come from the opera house now.”
“ And you didn t come in an hour ago-?”
“ Certainly not.”
“Then who was it? We all heard you and
Carrie come in and go up stairs I”
“ You imagined you did,” said the gentleman
with an incredulous smile.
A few evenings later the mother went down
into the basement with a lamp. In a moment it
was blown out, and she declared that she left
herseli surrounded by invisible people, who
breathed, groaned, touched her and frightened
her nearly to death.
This was not all. In the dead of night music
was hoard and the steps of people ascending
and descending the stairs.
“ Doors would slam, windows open and shut
and all kinds of strange noises were heard. My
daughters invited other young ladies to visit
them, and they sat up all night, with barricaded
doors, listening to the tramp, tramp, of invisi
ble people. We are not superstitious, but we
did as everybody else does who lived in the
house—moved out. Nothing would tempt mo
to try another such experiment.”
The lady who owns the house was called up
on. Finding that she could not let the premises
easily she took possession of them herself. She
opened the door a crack and protruded a nose
and chin of ancient appearance and a long
throat swathed in flannel.
“ Is this house haunted ?”
There is nothing like bearding the lion in his
den—the Douglas in his hall. The landlady
smiled grimly, and halt-closed one eye.
“ Do i look ghostly ?” she asked.
“ But they say the house is haunted.”
“They say don’t always tell the truth,” she
answered, coolly. “ I ain’t never seen anything
worse than myself in it. It’s for sale ’cause
I’m tired renting to shiftless people. Would
you like to go through it ?”
“ No-o. Do the doors slam and the windows
open and shut without mortal hands ?”
“ I guess not. ’Twould save me a heap of
trouble if they did. There’s nothing worse here
than draught—l’m standing in one now—and
them other critters—rats. I’ll sell cheap. It's
a fine property. Good-day.”
It was a flue property. It bore an air of de
cayed grandeur that American dwellings lack.
The windows looked grim and forbidding, as if
they could a tale unfold.
Something flitted past one of them that
“ might have been ” the ghost of a murdered
man, with bis head under his arm, but it wasn’t.
It was only a slatternly handmaid with her hair
in papers.
There is another haunted house in Detroit.
It is a bouse built by Gov. Porter in 1833.
It was only a foundat on with a roof over it
then, but there were rollicking scenes enacted
there. Since the days when Madam Porter
challenged every bit of horseflesh with the eye
of a connoisseur, the little house has become
the Larned mansion.
‘'ln that mansion used to be
Free-hearted hospitality.’*
But it is said to be that weird thing, a haunt
ed bouse. Probably the stories were first pro
jected by smugglers, who used the basement
for the storing of spirits other than immortal,
it being near the river bank and convenient for
that purpose. Now, the sounds repeat them
selves like echoes of the past. They do not
manifest themselves in the daytime,
“ But in the silent dead of night.
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall.
Echoes along the vacant hall.’*
It is quite the fashion at this time to make up
parties to visit those ghostly points. Young
men with fair, clinging girls on their arms,
stand and gaze nervously at closed blinds and
listen to little tremolos of “oh’s” and “ah’s,”
and precious clutches from trembling fingers if
but a casement rattle.
And it really ought to hasten the sale of a de
sirable property to have a ghost thrown in.
What are modern accommodations compared to
ghosts ? The family skeleton and the property
ghosts might hobnob together.
And there would be a delicious sense of pri
vacy in the possession of a haunted house. Un
comfortable visitors, perennial relations, disa
greeable servants, could be gotten nd of by a
skillful manipulation of “the ghost.”
After all, Horatio, there may be something
in it.
“All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses.’*
* -w.« w w .
How Crime is Punished in Trance.—
M. Baffler, the sculptor, is a gentle creature,
and a man of irreproachable morals, whose
only weakness is to attack people for none but
honorable motives, yielding, in so doing, to the
sole dictates of his conscience, and to do honor
to bis convictions. It was with that praisewor
thy intention that, at the end of last December,
he determined to immolate a deputy on the
altar of his country, and for the sacrifice he
chose M. Germain Casse, simply because it was
he ior whom ho had voted at the last elections.
His mind being made up, his first step was to
order a sword-stick of one of the best Pans
makers; his next was to go quietly to M. Casse’s
lodgings, and thirdly, not having found him at
home, to go and seek him at the Chamber of
Deputies. When the unsuspecting deputy
came out at his invitation, Baffler deliberately
stabbed him. When asked what had made him
commit the crime, he eaid he had no personal
animosity against his victim, but that as poli
tics were not advancing as he should like to see
them do, he thought it would be Well to kill
one deputy to teach the others how to live. In
justification of his act, he quoted the maxim of
Saint Just: “Those who govern ill must be
slain.” The Paris jury, taking into account the
person it was sought to murder—a mere depu
ty—and the exalted motives of the murderer,
considered the deed a mere political affair and
no crime at all, the more so as M. Germain
Casse himself and his friends deem the mur
dering of certain persons, particularly sover
eigns, no murder at all, but a manner of ex
pressing a political opinion. Now, Baffler, hav
ing attempted to murder the fraction of a sov
ereign, had a right to immunity. Then it was
pointed out to the jury that, save his slight
error in following the maxims of Saint Just and
slaying deputies who govern ill, Baffler was a
nice sort of person, serviceable, a good son,
and a kind friend. Who could think of sending
so respectable a citizen to New Caledonia, or
even to prison? There was nothing ior it but
to acquit him. So acquitted he was, and is at
large again on the Boulevards. He will also
exhibit something at the coming Salon,
Cure for Diphtheria.—Dr. A. Blon
del writes concerning the treatment of diph
theria by benzoate of sodium, and asserts that
of two hundred consecutive cases he has not lost
one. He admits the possibility of a mist ken
diagnosis in some instances, but, even includ
ing fifty per cent, on this account, he etill has
one hundred cases without a death. His method
is as follows : Every hour the patient takes a
tablespoon ful of a solution of benzoate of sodium,
fif teen grains to the ounce, and at the same time
one-sixth of a grain of sulphide o: calcium in
sirup or granule. In addition to this, the
throat is thoroughly sprayed every half hour
with a ten per cent, solution of benzoate of so
dium. This is done religiously at regular in
tervals, day and night, but no other local treat
ment is employed. No attempt is made to dis
lodge the ialee membrane, and no pencilling or
painting of the fauces is resorted to. Tonics
are given and antipyretics are used when occa
sion calls for them.’ The nour.shment consists
of beef-juice, tender rare meat, milk, Ac., but
bread and articles which may cause irritation oi
the throat are forbidden. The sick-room is kept
filled with steam from a vessel containg carbolic
acid, turpentine, and oil of eucalyptus in water.
Etiquette in France.—The etiquette
in the best of famil es of France as regards
young girls is very strict, says a foreign corre
spondent. At seventeen they begin to be seen
at their mothers’ “at homes,” but at eighteen
only they make their debut into society, begin
ning with the opera, Lenten receptions, and
what are now generally called ba s u,ai>cs. The
French girl never has any cards of her own;
when she is what we call “ out,” her name is
written below her mother’s. The letters ad
dressed to her are always delivered first to her
parent’s hands, who pass them to her open or
unopened, as she thinks tit. She wears no ow
ela beyond one row of pearls round her neck.
She rides early before the fash oa.ible hour at
the Bois, escorted by her father; her brother
may take her out driving, and she is even per
mitted now to take the reins, a liberty which
ten years ago would have stamped her as out
rageously last. French girls oi almost any rank,
including the bourgeoise, never walk out alone,
yjiey jw-ry jouugi presumably beiore twenty.
I I’ve Got the Dead Wood on You.—
The following is the newest and heretofore an
unpublished version oi the origin of this well
known phrase: In the days of the Black Hills
excitement, when that country was the El Do
rado toward which many fortune hunters turn
ed, there was one “Billy” Tracey, a lawyer by
profession, who was among the first to reach
Deadwood, that ephemeral metropolis of the
locality, where he hung out his shingle and
acted as agent for Eastern capitalists, who were
eager to invest in mining lands and stocks.
Among the anxious ones was the late Chares
R. Vermilye, banker and broker of Wall street,
New York City, who instructed Tracey, a former
acquaintance of his, to secure him some desira
ble mining stock, and draw on him for the pur
chase money. The lawyer, having developed
into somewhat of a rogue, and seeking an op
portunitv to feather his nest by the transaction,
secured a large portion of the stock of the
“Deadwood,” a worthless mine, at a nominal
value, and turned it over to his New York vic
tim and unsuspicious friend at a high price,
very coolly pocketing the balance. Vermilye
was not long m finding out that he was grossly
swindled, and having been commissioned by
Tracey, to whom he made no sign and for whom
he held a considerable amount in trust, to place
his (Tracey’s) money in Wall street, where it
would do the most good, put the good
for-nothing “Deadwood” stock on the market,
and by arrangement had it bid in at big figures,
in Tracey s name. “ I’ve got the Deadwood on
you this time,” wrote Vermilye to the Black
Hills lawyer, where the lat er learned he had
been paid in his own coin for his dishonesty,
and the expression started from that date and
rapidly became popular as an equivalent for
“ I've got the best of you,” “I’ve got the upper
hand oi you,” Ac.
Suicide of a Child.—An extraordi
nary suicide, under very painful circumstances,
has occurred in Paris. A workman and his
wile, named Ardouin, living in the Avenue Par
mentier, recently lost one of their children—a
little girl of six. The child, who had been ill
with croup, d.ed very suddenly. Her brother,
a Loy only eight years of age, on his return
from school, seeing the little body extended
lifeless on the bed, was greatly affected. For a
long time he was inconsolable, and his parents
were obliged to remove him to an adjoining
room and soothe him with kind attentions ere
they could bring the poor child to himself. On
the following morning the boy asked to be
allowed to see his sister once more for the last
time. He was taken into the death chamber,
went soitly up to the bed, and imprinting a kiss
on the face of the corpse, Jsaid : “We shall
soon meet again, dear sister.” The child re
turned to his room, and his parents, busy with
preparations for the funeral, lost sight of him
for some moments. His mother, going to the
room an hour at terward, found him hanging
from the window, quite dead. The child had
tied a towel to the handle oi the window, had
climbed on a bench, and then passing the towel
round his neck, had kicked the bench aside.
Not a cry or a groan had escaped him. There
can be no doubt that the poor child’s mind was
affected by the shock oi his little sister’s death,
but the resolution which lie displayed and the
manner in which he carried out hie fatal deter
mination were simply extraordinary for a boy
of such tender age.
Hawthorne and Pierce.—Following
is a little story told by the Bev. Dr. Cheney in
a recent lecture on the life of the late Na
thaniel Hawthorne. On a tour in search of
reminiscence, he found a number of gentlemen
airing themselves at the foot of Bunker Hill
monument, one of whom he accosted :
“Did you ever know Nathaniel Hawthorne ?”
he aske l.
“Know Nat Hawthorne? Why, of course I
knew him. He and my brother were great cro
“Then you know, probably, something about
his early works ?”
“Works/ Nat Hawthorne’s works ? Say, was
ho any relation to you ? No? Well, then, ust
let me tell you something about Nat Hawthorne.
He was the con’onndedest, laziest chap that
ever drawed breath. Why, I’ve seen that fel
low day after day, settin’ ’round the fields and
woods nappin’ and thinkin’and winkin’like a
sleepy toad. He never could do anything until
Frank Pierce was elected President, and lie was
a friend ot Nat’s and got him a job in the cus
tom-house. After that, I believe he had some
place in England or some other foreign coun
“ But don’t you know that he wrete some very
beautiful books
“Oh, yes; I remember’bout his hobby for
writin’, and, mind ye, that’s about all he would
a-done if it hadn’t been for Frank Pierce.”
Escape From Fifty Kisses.—Lamar
tine, when President of France, was once visited
by a deputation of “Vesuviennes,” furious fe
male Republicane of the petreiouse type. The
captain was the spokeswoman. She told him
that the “ Vesuviennes” had come to tell him
how much they loved him. “ There are fifty of
us here, ’ she added, and our mission is, in the
name ot the others, to kiss you.” This an
nouncement made the poet shudder. The cap
tain of the gang was tolerably good-looking, but
the others were a horrible-looking, hall-drunken
and half-crazy set of viragos. He was equal
to the emergency. “Citizens,” said he, “I
thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thia
ie certainly the happiest day of my life; but per
mit me to say that splendid patriots like you
cannot be treated as women. You must be re
garded as men; and, since men do not kiss one
another, we must content ourselves with a
hearty hand-shaking.” The ladies considered
themselves highly complimented. “ Vive
Lamartine!” they shouted, and each one ot
them grasped his hand. When they were gone
he looked like a man who had just escaped from
a deadly peril.
Lost Arts. —The ancient Egyptians,
Phoenicians and Bomans had a knowledge of
some things in chemistry which we do not pos
sess. Such as to make malleable glass. They
also knew how to color and gild glass by a
process unknown to us. Bronze and copper
were tempered to the hardness ot steel, and of
this the Egyptians made their edged tools.
Paints were mixed whose colors were imperish
able; at least they have existed fresh for 4,000
years. At Damascus they mad© blades of steel
which could be bent into a circle and would fly
back into perfect line. Neither this nor the
gold tracery in their steel can we imitate to-day.
We do not know how Kings Ramoses and Thot
mes transported monoliths and elevated them
on to the Pyramids; though we could do the
same to-day by other processes. Artisans and
chemists have in vain tried to reproduce irides
cent glass which archaeologists have brought to
light. This does not complete the catalogue,
but is enough to show that the ancients wore by
no means unskilled.
University Education too High.—
A German, now visiting in this country, writes
to his home paper as follows concerning our
colleges: “In America—in this land oi the tree
—it is the sad fact that university culture is a
prize which is only accessible to the sons of
rich men.” His inquiries were very exact.
“Among the 140 students who had completed
their studies at Yale College this year (1886) I
obtained answers from 109. According to their
reports, the average cost ior the four years’
course amounted to S9BO. There were great
differences m individual cases; one had suc
ceeded in getting through at the cost o $l5O a
year; another needed no less than $3,500 annu
ally. I know a German porter in the States
whose eldest son passed a brilliant examination
at Princeton; but father and son agreed that It
was impossible to pursue his studies there, on
account of the frightful costliness. Study at an
American university is a most expensive
Awkwabd Joking.—A gentleman of
wealth, while practicing penmanship one day,
wrote his name upon a blank slip oi paper and
allowed it to lie on his desk. It attracted the
attention ot a neighbor, who, for a Joke, filled in
the space above the signature in the form of a
promissory-note, and a tew days afterward, the
joking neighbor presented the paper, with an
offer to allow considerable discount it the ap
parent drawer would cash it at the time. The
gentleman perceived the joke, and the holder oi
the document, placing it in his pocket, depart
ed, and nothing m«. a j was said about it. Sub
sequently the holder whs stricken with paraly
sis, and died, and his executors finding the
note, and having no knowledge of the joke at
tached to it, brought suit, and recovered the
sum for which it was drawn. The joker had
meant no harm, but be, as well as bis friend,
bad been careless, and some one had to pay the
The Fat and the Lean.—lt is gener
ally supposed that fat people have much more
blood than others On the contrary they have
less. The blood they have, moreover, is really
poor, while the fat fills the space which is re
quired for the circulation of that. Fat
people have then less vital energy than the thin,
not possessing sufficient blood to bring every
organ up to its full working power, and the fat
hindering what blood there is from flowing Jree
ly enough to the organs, especially at the mo
ment ot action requiring it. Beside all this, the
fat obstructs the play of the lungs, so that suffi
cient air cannot be inhaled to purify the blood;
the natural and necessary combustion is thus
so interfered with that the functions of the body
are hindered. It follows that too much exer
tion should always be guarded against in peo
ple of large and fatty development, and too
much should never be expected of them.
Injured Gods. —A primitive notion
existed among the Romans and other races that
a bridge was an offence and in.ury to the river
god, as it people from being drowned
wh le fording or swimming across, and so rob
bed the deity of a certain Dumber of victims
which were his due. For many centuries in
Rome propitiatory offerings of human victims
were made every year to the Tiber; men and
women were drowned by being bound and .flung
rom the wooden Subnet n bridge which till
nearly the end o' the Republican period was the
one and only bridge across the Tiber in Rome.
Exchange of Ideas.—Tin-Tun-Ling,
a famous Chinese adventurer who died a few
weeks ago, was in Paris during the Beige. One
clay, as be was passing along the street, two
heroes, whose military costume consisted ot a
dingy red stripe down their black trousers,
said in Irfs hearing: .
“ Bah—that Chinese would be doing better it
he were in Peking how 1”
“Ad you, gentlemen, it you were in Ber-
Lxi,” Jr- returned on.
Wines and Wine- Bibbi.?h.—lt is re
lated of Emperor Maximin, whn ruled at Roma
in the third century, and was ot gigantic stat
ure, that he ate forty pounds of meat and dranlg
six gallons of wine daily.
Torquatus was knighted by Tiberius Clan*
dins about the beginning ot the Ciiristian era,
with the title ot Tricongius, or the three-gallon
knight, because he could drink three gallon* of
wine at a draught.
The ancient Egyptians, according to th®
Greek historian, Herodotus, made great use of
beer extracted from barley, an I 529 years
fore the Christian era the Syrians were skilled
in the manufacture of a palm wine.
Ale was a favorite beverage with the old Sax
ons, and so great was their attachment to it®
use that they made the glory and felicity o|
their paradise to cons st in drinking it from th®
skulls of their enemies slain in battle.
A son of the celebrated orator, Cicero, wa®
surnamed Btcongiua, because be was accus
tomed to drink two congii, or eight bottles, at
sitting; and even the elder Cato allowed hisri
slaves, at some seasons, lour bottles of win® 1
per diem. '
At Her Own Expense.—The otheE
day a New York maiden went te Philadelphia,
and was taken by a young man to the opera,
after which they went to take some slight re«»
freshment. The young lady had seen consider*
able of this world, and had a pretty fair knowl
edge of the customs ol most people; but she was
considerably surprised to see her escort, at th®
conclusion of the repast, coolly roach ior her
pocketbook, which lay at the table on her side,
and pay the bill with her money j his, it seems a
says the Independent, is customary in Philadel
phia when a young gentleman’s means are some
what limited. It relieves his lady friends ot th®
embarrassment they might otherwise feel on,
partaking of any entertainment at his cost. It»
struck the New York girl, however, as being ri*
diculous, and she began to laugh.
“ I fear you are laughing at my expense,” said
the young man. “Let me explain.”
•‘Oh, no,’she rep.ied, “1 was laughing at
my expense.”
A Monster Pie. — When the British
corn laws were repealed in 1846 a general jubi
lee was held in various parts of the United
Kingdom. At Denby D»ile, Yorkshire, a mons
ter pie was baked, and fragments of it hav®
been carefully preserved to this day. A cor
respondent writes: ‘i A Denuy armer had &
small portion of tbe suet crust, ‘.nd uno day, I
well remember, I was given a small, t’at-lik®
piece in order that 1 might say had tasted th®
veritable pie. The composition of the pie was
as follows: Flour, 623 pounds, suet, 91-Z pounds;
lard, 19 pounds; fresh buttor, > pounds; beef,
100 pounds; one calf, five sheep, seven hares,
fourteen rabbits, four pheasants, four par
tridges, two brace of grouse, six pigeons, two
turkeys, two guinea fowls, «nr ducks, four
geese, four fowls, sixty-three small b rds, and
one pound of pepper. The cir mm erence of th®
pie was twenty-one feet, aud its bight or depth
two feet three inches.”
A Street of Tombs. —An interesting
discovery has very recently been made in th®
direct line between Pompeii and Nocera. Th®
digging of a well in a vineyard revealed the ex
istence of a street ot tombs, about 1,000 feet
east of the amphitheatre of Pompeii. It th®
whole street is as closely lined with tombs as is
the portion laid bare, it will b<* one ot tbe most
important discoveries lately made in that part
of the world ; but unfortunately money is want
ing, so that the excavat.on is enig on slowly.
Most of the tombs are covered with rude in
scriptions painted in red, many of them being
of the nature of advertisements, the tombs
thus serving the purpose oi a newspaper along
the much frequented road. The exact date has
not been accurately ascertained, but they prob
ably belong to the periods of Julius Caisar and
Vaccination Rules.—The merits of
vaccination have been considered since 1883 by
a German commission—three members of which
were anti-vaccinationists—and these are among
the conclusions which have at length been an
nounced: The period daring which vaccination
protects against small-pox varies greatly, but as
a rule all persons should be vaccinated every
ten years; two well-marked vesicles are neces
sary to insure successful protection; animal va
cine is preferable; no special disease or increas
ing death-rate can be traced to the practice of
vaccination; the operation should not be per
formed during epidemics of scarlet-fever,
measles, diphtheria, whooping-cough, tvphua
or erysipelas; infants should not i>e vaccinated
until three months old; and the greatest care in
cleaning aud disinfecting instruments should be
Drifting Sands. - Npar the sea the
shifting of sand by the winds is a familiar sight*
and the drifts are often known to encroach on
cultivated fields, forests and villages. Striking
examples are found on Lake Michigan, wher®
the withered tops oi a forest are visible above a
sand-drift, and in Norfolk, England, where
farms and houses have bee® covered. Th®
same phenomenon occurs in deserts, the great
sand-hills being not only carried about by th®
wind, bnt even forced beyond the proper limits
ot the sandy wastes. The extensive Registan
desert in Central Afghanistan is reported as
being steadily pushed northeastwardly, and
calculations have shown that its present rate of
progress will cause it to overwhelm some of th®
most fertile and prosperous districts of th®
country in a few thousand year*.
Was Friendless. — Last Christmas
Dela Corbet, Jennie Quay and EBa Kountzman,
formerly pupils in a Soldiers • rphans’ School*
Harrisburg, Pa., met John Acklev, who was in
toxicated, and persuaded him to givs them &
sleigh ride. The girls, neither of whom if
twenty-one years old, became intoxicated and
abused Ackley in a most beastly manner. Fi
nally they beat him over the as he clung
to the sleigh, and left him to die in a stranger’s
house. The case came up for trial last Satur
day, when the attorney for the girls spoke touch
ingly of their neglected training, and, to the as
tonishment of everybody, the District Attorney
announced that the Commonwealth would aban
don the case, and the girls were acquitted. Th®
murdered man was friendless.
What They Swear By.—ln Egypt
the custom long prevailed of swearing by the
goose. The ancient Germans swore by their
gods, by their swords and by their beards. Th®
Scandinavians, beside appealing to the gods,
touched a bloody ring in the hands ot a priest.
In some parts of China a witness is sworn upon
a saucer, which is broken at the moment ne
takes the oath. The Hindoo swears by th®
Veda, the sacred book of bio religion. In like
manner the Mohammedan is sworn on the Ko
ran. |ln Madagascar the people swear either by
their sovereign or by their mothers, and there
are two forms of witnessing the oath, one to
“ strike the water ” and the other to “ spear the
Hardly Good For Work.—Apes pro
bably rank next to man in general intelligence,
and, though they lack perseverence, there
seems to bo no reason for doubting that they
might be trained to do a variety o useful work,,
This is the opinion of Madame < lemence Royer,
the French translator of Darwin, but she points
out that the,domesticated apes would require
great quantities of such food as fruit, bread and
eggs' that the process of educating them would
be costly and that for many generations the
climate of Europe would be too severe for them.
She suggests that the experiment should be
tried first in tropical countries, where the apes
might aid in cultivating coffee, cocoa and cotton.
Would as Soon Eat Sand.—Ths Es
quimaux near Littleton Island, ence discovered
a supply of bread and salt pork that Kane had
cached, and they proceeded to enjoy a feast at
the white man e expense. They liked the salt
pork, and did not leave a morsel of it. They
nibbled the bread a little, and told Dr. Kan®
afterward that they would as eoon swallow so
much sand.
Cost of Napoleon’s Wars to Life.—
M. Tain©, in his monogram on Napoleon 1., says
that the Napoleonic wars from bS(K to 1815 cost
the lives of more than ,70 ,0 >0 Frenchmen born
within the limits oi old France and perhaps
2,000,000 born outside those limits were slain
either for him as allies or by him as enemies.
Don’t Wait
Until your hair becomes dry, thin, and
gray before giving the attention needed
to preserve its beauty and vitality.
Keep on your toilet-table a bottle of
Ayer’s Hair Vigor—the only dressing
you require for the hair—and use a little,
daily, to preserve the natural color and
prevent baldness.
Thomas Munday, Shar.n Grove, Ky.,
writes : “ Several months ago my hair
commenced falling out, and in a few
weeks my head was almost bald. I
tried many remedies, but they did no
good. I finally bought a bottle of Ayer’s
Hair Vigor, and, after using only a part
of the contents, my head was covered
with a heavy growth of hair. I recom
mend your preparation as the best hair
restorer in the world.”
” My hair was faded and dry.” writes
Mabel C. Hardy, of Delavan, Ill.; "but
after using a bottle of Ayer’s Hair Vigor
it became black and glossy.”
Ayer’s Hair Vigor,
Sold by Druggists and Perfumers.
Pimples and. Blotches,
So disfiguring to the face, forehead, and
neck, may be entirely removed by the
use of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, the best and
safest Alterative and Blood-Purifier ever
Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass,
gpjd 5*5 botttes for

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