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[’HE HUNTINGTON ARGUS.
ThUi*<l t}ri January 11, ~-Married” “Diesl.” in theeolueai side hjiide, ^ „ Stand tha captious, ‘Married, Died, What fine irony is this Thu- <hades with J«ath *omo nuPtuI bhl*’ Th »t blends beneath foiue earnest ga*a Tbe storv of two wondrous days? The kiss of death, of blushing bride, Sarcastic blend iu -“Married, “Died. Throbbing breast er heart that bleeds, Tearful, bright or dull eye read*, Lines whose message is not clear, Slurred and broken through a tear; Lily lingers, hand of age, Trace the lines along the page; , I>e* U aud Cupid side by side f> export with man in—“Married, ‘ Died. Here a requiem, there a song, niond and roll their notes along, Village bells that ring or toll Greet a glad °r passing soul: To the chancel ea^tho crowd, <*lad in satin go*#, or shroud, To the church we twice may ride; m liced the headings; “Married,'’ “Died.' Hoist the anchor, sail away; Summer winds o'er sun.it bay Lur.- thee o'er tlo outer b.\', Where the white-capped breakers are; Staunch thy p iate 1 shallop be, Strang to ride life's restless sea, God ssall rule the surging tide That laps the shores cf “Married,” “Died. Orange blossoms, ripened wheat, Sprigs of rue or iillies sw^ot, Curls of gold or locks of snow, Wedding robes or garbs of woo, Hands in loviug hands to rest, Or folded lie on pulsel ss breast! Who shall blooms and fruit divide, near the stories, “Married,” “Died.” I'nele.Xahnui’si Wedtliug. Ulele Nahum Nixen was reading the paper iu his hack, parlor. Ne hodv would think, to look at the sim ple surroundings o! the unpretentious apartment, that Mr. Nahum was ene of the wealthiest men in town. The oar pet it wai true, was Axmiuister, hut it had seen twenty years of good service, and was worn down to the warp; the faded red curtains were of iu reen instead of satin damask, the old clock on the mantel was no Par isian Hl air oi alabaster and gilt, but a substantial Connecticut time-piece that uruok with a whirr, like a pat ridge springing out of her nest; the chairs of old-fashioned mahogany and hair cloth stood bolt upright against the wall; the portraits of (ion. Washington or horseback and ;.e surrender of Cornwallis orna mented the gray papered walls in frames of sombrs gilt, and the one elegance of the apartment was a cask, el of preposterous flowers under a m ocked glass shade. l>ut Uncle Nixun had remembered that furniture ever since he was a child, and he wouldn’t have ex - hanged it for the fittings of a Pari sian boudoir, or the choicest specimens of the modern Eastlake pattern. He was a rich mat—that was quite «meugh for him. ‘If you please, Mr. Nixon,” said the trim little maid servant, “Mr. Marmuduke Rourue wants to see you - if you pl*ase, air, if you are quite at leisure. ‘■Mr. Marmaduke bourne, eh' The old gentleman took ®fT his specta cles and laid them on the folded news paper. “Ask him iu, Polly.” And Mr. Marmaduke Bourne came in -a tall, fresh-colored young fellow with sparkling gray eyes, brown hair .11 in n mat carls, a straight Greek Moss that seemed as if it might hare been borrowed from s®me ancieut A polk. “Well, sir?” said Mr. Nixon. “Well, sir,” counter-interrogated VIr. bourne, “did you get my let ter?’ “I get your letter.” said Uucle Nahum. “So you want to marry my niece, Faith? ’ •‘Yes, sir,” valiantly acknowledged Mr. Marmaduke Kourne. “Ah,” nodded Uncle Nahum.— ••but perhaps v®u don’t understand all the facts of the ease.” “The facts, sir?’ “I wait my niece t® marry Col. \shland’s sob,’ slowly enunciated Uncle Nahum. “but, sir. sho don’t love him.” “Pshaw!’ snarled Uncle Nahum. Aud if she don't marry him she’ll !>.» a !x?ggar. I’ll give her no money min®. Now you understand mat ters. Marry hsr, or not, as you Tease.” lie took up the newspaper ouce i more—a tacit intimation that the in terview was at an end. “Sir,” began Mr. Bourne. ‘‘That’lldo/ thundered Mr. Nixon. |» And so Mr. Marmaduke Bourne went away. Little Faith Nixon came down stairs presently—a blue-eyed blossom of a girl with yellow hair growing low on her forehead, and a very little mouth, exactly the shape to suggest the idea of kissing. Uncle Nahum looked keenly up at her as she fluttered about the room straightninga table cover here or put ting down a eurtaiu fold there. “Yes/’ said he, with a curious, tvritch of the muscles around his eyes, “he has been here.” “I—I didn’t ask any question, Un cle Nahuin.” “No, but your eyes did,” chuckled . ! the old man. “Hs wants to marry vou—the improvident young donkey!” Faith came t* her Uncle’s chair and laid her hand lightly on his t shoulder. “That isn’t the worst of it l aele ! Nahum—I want to marry him.” “Humphi” snarled Mr. Nixon, in1 high contempt. And what do you I expect to live on, I should like to j know?” ‘ We can both work,” said Faith bravely. “You’re more likely to starve,” said Mr. Nixon. “Mind, don’t count on 1 help from me. If you will get mar ried. you will do it at your own \ risk.” “Then you consent, Uncle Na-; hum?” “No!” roared the old bachelor.— “Nothing of the sort.” “But. Uncle Nahum, I should be! wretched without Duke,” softly pleaded Faith. “Fiddlcstrings!” said the old man. | “And I am sure he couldu’t live i without me.” “Trash!” grunted Mr. Nixon. “And if you please, uncle,” added Faith “perhaps I’d better go to my friend Violet Smith’s to make up my | wedding things, since you disapprove so decidedly of my plans. She lives in New York, you know and, it will be convenient for shopping and— “And for all other tomioeleries in general,” rudely interrupted the old | gentleman. “Yes, go to your Violet i Smith’s but don’t expect to come back J here.” “No, uncle!” said Faith, meekly, j “But you’ll let m# thank you for all! your kindness, and—” “No, I won’t,” said Uncle Nahum so short that poor Faith fled up stairs in dismay and had a quiet little cry, notwithstanding she was very, very happy. • For Uncle Nahum, brusque aim crabbed though lie was, was all the father she had ever known. But she ; packed her trunk and went to Violet Smith’s in New York, which was all | the pleasanter, iu that also Marma-1 duke Bourne had alio betaken him-: self to this modern Gotham and gone to work studying law as if he meant to take Coke and Blackstone by storm. And Miss \ iolet Smith, who was a sentimental young lady, sym pathized intensely, and the young couple were unreasonably happy as many another couple has been before and will be again. But one day Duke Bourne came in 1 with a face full of tidings. “Faith,” said be, “have you heard 1 ' the news?” “What news?” asked Faith. “Your uncle will get the start of j us after all.” “What do you mean Duke?” “Why, lie’s going to be married.’’ “Uncle Nahum?” cried Faith in credulously. “Yes. Uncle Nahum. That ac counts for his being so willing to get j rid of us—eh, little one?” “And who is the bride?”questioned Faith. “Who, that’s the mooted peintj I ret. Nobody seems to know. Some j »ay one, and seme say another, but the general impression seems to be that it is the rich widow who owns the brown stone block on the cor ner.” “I’m sure I hope he will be happy/ »aid Faith, with tremulous lips, and eves suffused witfy tears, “but I think he might have said something to us about it." “People are-jnot generally in a' hurrv t© proclaim the tact that they are about to make fools of them selves,” said Duke Bourne, bitter ■y “Why,” cried haitb, laughingly; through her tears, “that is precisely I w hat he said about u.s.” But the next day a letter from Un-; cle Nahum himself settled the mat-! ter. He wrote: “There is be a big wedding at my bonse on the seventeenth, and I want you aud Duke to he here with out fail.” “A wf.ddiug! At his house!” cried Faith. “I supposed that weddings were celebrated at the bride’s re?i- j deuce.” “So they are, dear,” said Mrs. Smith; “but your uncle wus so ec centric!” “What shall we do?” asked Faith. ( “Why go. of course,” said Marma dukc Bouruef “to show that we bear no malice at being disinherited if for i no other reason.” The seventeenth of March arrived , a cold, blustering night, and the old red brick house was all in a glimmer | of lights as the young betrothed pair strove up to the door. Uncle Nahum met them on the threshold in his old fashioned swallow tailed coat, with a huge white camelia iu his buttoni hole, and a pair of surpassingly white j kid gloves. “Have you brought your white frock?” was his first question to his niece. “No uncle, I—” “That won’t do,” said Uncle Na hum; “no one must eonae to my wed ding without a marriage garment. It’s lucky 1 provided one for you.— Come up stairs, quick, and put it on, for the parson is waiting and the com pany is here.” “But, unde, the bride?” “You shall see her by and by,” said Uncle Nahum despotically.— “Come up stairs now and change your dress.” “But, uncle, a white silk!” cried Faith looking iu dismay at the glis tening dress laid out for her use. “What then? Isn’t white silk the thing for a wedding? Fut it on quick and I'll send some one up to bring you down in five minutes. ’ And so, with a doubting heart, Faith Nixon robed herself in the white dress, with its trimmings of vapory blonde and long trail. “Where’s your veil?” said Uncle Nahum, when he can.e himself a few minutes later to the door. “Uncle, I ean’t wear a veil,” pleaded Faith. “But Isay you must: said Lucic Nahum. “Nobody comes to my wedding without a veil. ’ As he placed tho wreath lightly on her head. “But, Uncle Nahum, they will take me for the bride.” “Let’m, said the old gentleman. “Take my arm. Now come down stairs and I'll show you the bride. There she is. ” Lifting her bewildered eyes Faith I Nixon beheld her own ligtiro re flected in a full length mirror at the stairway. “Here’s the bride’ chuckled Uncle Nahum, leading her up to Duke Bourne, “and here’s the groom,”! touching Bourne’s shoulder. “Audi here’s the parson, all ready end wait-j ir.g. Now, reverend sir,” to the clergyman, “marry ’em as fast as! vou can.” And before either of the voung couple could remonstrate, they were made ruan and wife. “Duke,” cried the bride, as soon as the ceremony was over, “did you know of this!?' “No, I di'm’t” said Mr. Bourn#, with his aim very tight around his little wife’s \caist. “But I must say I approve very highly of the whole proceeding.” Uncle Nahum stood by rubbing his baud.*, with his whole face wreathed iu prodigous smiles. “So you supposed it was I who was to be married, eh?” said he. “Not a bit of it—not a bit of it. I’m too old a bird to he caught with such chuff as that. No, no, little Laitk. Did you think I* was going to turn my wee birdie out of her nest after all the years she has been cherished there? No, 1 only wanted to assure mvself that your fancy was a real fancy, and that this young—young rascal here,” smiting Bourne on the shoulder once mere, “loved you for voursclf alone, and not for the money he thought the old man was a going to leave you. And yeur’e to live here both of you, and we ll be happy ever after. Strike up your harps and fiddles. Let’s have a dance—lets all be merry together.' Uncle Nahum Nixon himself led eff the bridal quadrille, dancing in the good old style of fifty years age. “I don’t have a wedding everyday,” said Uncle Nahum, breathlessly, as he cut one last pigeon wing, “and I mean to make the most of it. ’ MINI ELL A AY. Prof. Dufour has presented a new and interesting proof that the earth is round. The images of distant ob jects reflected in the Lakeot Geneva in calm weather show just the degree of distortion which a careful mathe matical calculation would predict on account of the shape of the earth. During a total eclipse of its sur face the moon assumes a coppe r red color, which gradually fades away as the eclipse progress. Mr. W. Mattieu Williams accounts for this curious phenomenon by supposing that the illuminated jxsrtiou ef the lunar sur face, lacking the protection^ an at mosphere, must be made led hot by the sun’s rays. Only a thin layer ©t the moan’s substance is so heated, and when the sun’s rays are with drawn it rapidly cools, causing the fading away of the red color when in the shadow of the earth. If his hypothesis is correct, Mr. Williams believes that the surface temperature of the bright side of the moon must he about 600 degrees. Of course the dark side must be intensely cold, so quickly does the heat pass into space after the sun disappears. On the whole, the moon must be an un comfortable world. Microscopic vision has separated ruled lines as fine as 113,600 to the inch, but, according to Prof. Rogers, the evidence that finer lines than that have been resolved under the microscope is not cencluiive. Dr. Constantine Fahlberg recently described to the (Icrman Technical Society a new substauoe which he es timates to possess from twenty to thirty times the sweetness of cane sugar. To chemists the new body will be known as “anhydrosulpha nim-ben/.oic acid.” Mons. Toussaint has shown exper imentally the serious danger of eat ing meat nearly raw as is now sc generally done. If the meat is un sound, the germs of disease must pass into the system. The most frequent and dangerous maladr with which animals slaughtered for food are af fected is consumption, and even if the animal is only slightly diseased persons eating the uncooked meat are liable to infection. The raw juice pressed from a slightly affected cows lung was used to inoculate rab bits and young pigs, and all the sub jects died in a short time from the disease. The experiment was re peated with a portion of the juice which had been partially cooked, and the result was the same. Only thorough cooking was found to ef. feotually destroy all the infectious germs. Recent evidence Feems to indicate that under certain conditions, vegeta ble matter may be converted into coal in a nundj less period 'than many geelogi>t& have behaved to be neces sary. At least an approach to sucIl conversion has been diseoveied in I some of tbe mines of the I *ppor | Hartz, in Germany, where some of j the timbers originally used a* 8up ! ports have been transformed .nt • what appears to be a ganyine lignite, ■ brown coal. Ine time occupied b\ * the process cannot, it is believed, have extended beyond four centuries —a very hrief period compared with 1 that usually assigned to coal forma* i lions. | It has been shown by Prof. Loouiis i that more min falls on the eastern i than in the same latitude »>n the western side of continents, d his is true everywhere except in the higher latitudes. Thus the average rainfall at San Francisco is ouly from a half ! to a third as great in quantity as in the east of Pennsylvania; and the j same or more striking difference may bo found by comparing Morocco with the Chinese coast, aud the west with the east coasts of South Africa, ! Australia and South America. Mr. Jacob Roes? is credited with having expressed the belief that it it were jnissible to produce a flatneless combustion the intensity aud quantity of heat obtained from a given amount of fuel would be greatly increased thereby. Mr. Thomas Fletcher of Warrington, England, has succeeded iu producing a comlnistion without linme, and lately gave at Owens College a striking practical illustra tion of Mr. Reese’s theory. He di rected the llamc of a simple gas blow - pipe upon a three i»eh ball of iron wire fora few seconds, and then blew out the ffame. The heat rapidly in* | creaa%l aud the wire quickly melted 1 aud ran into drops. He even suc ceeded in fusing refractory tire clay, the intensity of heat l>eing much treater than ever before obtained C with the fuel used. Even in the dark the burning of the gas wa-< shown to be entirely invisible. It appears that fiame really indicates an imperfect combustion. Prof. Germain See has called tho attention of the Paris Academy of Medicine to a new medicinal alkaloid •aid to resemble tligitali#iu its ac tion hut having none of the objection able properties of that drug.. The new subsUinco is called couvallarine. and is obtaiued from the *lily of tin* valley. It acts powerfully on tbe heart, and lowers the pulse very de cidedly. The plant itself is said to have been long employed by Russian peasants for dropsical affections. Wouldn't Owu It. A dignified old gentleman catered a Paris railway station, laid down a bulky valise while he bought a ticket, and passed on to the trail, forgetting his luggage, A young fellow who noticed the oversight seized the valise and made off with it. He was ar rested. and the contents of the valise examined. It appared that the owner was a wealthy landowner who lived at St. Germain with his wife and children. He was telegraphed for, and came, the dignified old gen tleman of the station house. I he carpet bag was opened l>efore him in court. It contained SoOO in gold, some bills, and a package of love let ters from a well known vaudeville a tress, with her portrait. The old gen ; tleman stoutly denied having ever seen the valise of the love letters b' fore. There was nothing to do but ; release the lucky thief, ami permit him to keep the bag aud its con tents. Sheriff Miekell, of Lincoln county, Miss., met u cow in the road the oth er day. The Sheriff said “Shoo!” but instead of allowing him to pass, the cow tossed him at least twenty ; feet upward, so that he was a ‘‘High Sheriff’ indeed. He parsed hi* Christmas in bed.