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' ,( The Column* of this paper show I -Our subscription list forany county to be a new departure, and inquiry will prove it to be the beet advertts i n Berkeley 137,Greenbrier 8d,Hamp , ing medium in West Virginia. No ^hire 36, Hardy 27, Harrison 34, other publication is so widely distri Wood 23. Wheeling 26, Win lO,--- buted over the State and read by tho * other counties m proportion. Circu- very class most valuable to advertis lation in this county equal to that of ers. any other paper. I Voi. 111.. No. XIV. CHARLESTOWN. JEFFERSON COUNTY. W. VA„ FRIDAY. JUNE 10. 1887._Price 3 Cents DYSPEPSIA. l'pt<> a few weeks ago l considered in vself the champion Dyspeptic of Amer ica. During tin* years (hat 1 have l**en niHictcd 1 have tried almost everything elaimed to 1k> a specific for Dyspepsia, in the hope of timliug something that would afford permanent relief. I had atKiut made up inv mind to abandon all medicines when 1 noticed an endorse ment of Simmons Liver Regulator, bv a prominent tieorgiau. a jurist, w hom I knew , and concluded to try its effects in niv ease. I have used hut two liottles, and am satisfied that 1 have struck the right thing at last. 1 felt its beneficial effects almost immediately- I’nlike all other preparations of a similar kind, no special instructions are required as to what one shall or shall not eat. This fact alone ought to commend it to all troubled with Dvpepsia. J. N. HOl.MKS. Vineland, N. .1. Constipation To Secure a Regular Habit of Body without Changing the Diet or Dis organizing the System, tukc si I ; OSI.Y tiKNl'INK MAM K.Ytn TKI» TtY J.H. ZEIUN&CO., Philadelphia. apr.2P,oow-2in. • . * *KZ. C '.FCWi T:>.. V' ' ' ' , , * . ^t. . . a t. , , . . ’ ’ ‘ r w • •» * * ,* . . - •: i.:. It . ■ • - » r- UM - ,,j j,, * ■ > . , . iti — ec f it. jr; . - lx... t.: - ri . : -r ^ :» ^ os.« .s..,-.m..ta.»h-utV*nnjj . ■ -,t s, 1 I -I n ■: to i .. ... * s 1-tire I . . t,. u !m re u t: >>I » •-> • ‘ h i ?:n»i»t.i.9Ko*'as rt i, «; i, June \ issi , .... .. HV .«! tod SkUX Dkw*M*»drUlrta. • ua’swnrrSrttcincVo . homer : , \IUnt£, t.A. •W. w 2-1 s.. N. V. jun.:t,Dii Merchant Tailoring. Berryville, Virginia, carries a full line of Fine Woolens. Coatings, Fancy Cassimeres. Silk Ulixiil ami Fancy Worsteds, and a fi ll link of t ? All work guaranteed to be as rep resented, and lirst-class in tit and stvle. riT Having employed a cutter, who is a graduate of the .John Mitehel Flit ting School ot Nc" X ork. led confident in ottering our services to the citizens of Jetterson that wo can give entire satis- ! faction and ill use every means to give ] our work a high reputation. Satisfaction (• uai'iintedl. *pr.9,\s»>- lv. IS ON RLE at the office of THE H. P. HUBBARD CO.. Judicious Ac* vertising Agents & Experts, New Haven, Ct. I»C« quote our v>7 low»l »dv,rt'vng rites. Adve'tisemenfs de Signed, pr^oH shown and fitintlt#! OT • 5* in AN/ mwspipen, forwirdid to nspo'. I upon «pp ‘Ci* Mi —— f FLOWER SEEDS • HSXZ. s r choice or ourt*. Stamp* taken. Anj and ill varietie* of (.nr. den Swl, muled on receipt of 5c. per piper. All who try oar Seedi become rveulir patron* Our pec ket* ire Uml inqamtity. Z. UeFOKEs>T EI.Y A CO. Seed Merchants, Graven ud Iiuiurten Market »t., FhWvIpUin, Fa. WANTED. To buy wild lands in West Virginia. Five full disruption and price. Address, LOFK ItoX Tllii, Pittsburg, Pa. CRANBERRY GROWING. _ O. u, Shields, in American Magazine for June. Cranberry culture is an industry iu which millious of dollars arc in vested in this country, and it gives employment, for at least a por tion of each year, to many thousands of people. In the East, where the value of an acre of even swampland may run up into the thousands of dollars, a cranberry marsh of five or ten acres is considered a large one, and. cultivated iu the careful, frugal style in vogue there, may yield its owner a handsome yearly income. But in the great, boundless West, where land, and more especially swamp land, may be had for from i one to five dollars an acre, we do , these things differently, if not bet | ter. The State of Wisconsin produces ; nearly one half of the cranberries I annually mown in the United States. I There are marshes there covering thousands of acres, whereon this fruit grows wild, havingdonesoeven as far back as the oldest tradition of the native red man extends. Iu ■ many cases the land on which the ; berries grow has been bought from the Government by individals or firms, in vast tracts, and the growth | of the fruit promoted and encouraged by a system of dykes and dams whereby the effects of droughts, frost and heavy r;iintalls are counteracted to almost any extent desired. Some ' of these holdings aggregate many thousands of acres under a single ownership; and after a marsh of this vast extent lias been thorough ly ditched, and good buildings, wa terworks, etc., are erected on it, its value may reach many thousands of dollars, while the original cost of the land may have been merely nomi nal. Iu a few instances, however, this fruit is cultivated in Wisconsin in a style similar to that practised in the East; that is, by paring the natural sod from the bog, covering the earth to a depth of two or three inches with sand, and then transplanting the vines into the soil thus prepared. The weeds arc then kept down for a year or two, when the vines take full possession of the soil, and fur ther attention is unnecessary. The natural “stand” of the vines in the sikI is so productive, however, and the extent of country over which bountiful Nature has distributed them so vast, that few operators have thought it necessary to incur the expense of special culture. One of the best and most perfectly equipped marshes in Wisconsin is owned by Mr. G. B. Saekett, of Her . Iin. it is situated tour nines norm of that village, and comprises 1,600 acres, nearly all of which is a veri table bog, and is covered with a nat ural and luxuriant growth of cran berry vines. A canal has been cut from the Fox River to the southern limit of the marsh, a distance of 4. 400 feet. It is 45 feet wide, and the water stands in it to a depth of 9 fee., sufficient to float fair-sized i steamboats. At the intersection of the canal with the marsh, steam water works have been erected, with flood-gates and dams, by means of which the entire marsh nay be flood ' ed, to a depth of a foot or more, when desired. There are two en gines of 150 horse power each, and two pumps that arc capable of rais ing SO,000gallons per minute. When, in early autumn, the mctorological conditions indicate the approach of frost, the pumps may be put to work in the afternoon and the berries be effectually covered by water aud thus protected before nightfall. At sunrise the gates are opened and the water allowed to run off” again, so that the pickers may proceed with their work. The marsh is flooded to a depth o! about two feet at the be ginning of each winter and allowed to remain so until spring, the heavy body of ice that forms preventing the upheaval that would result from freezing and thawing—a natural prj cess which, if permitted, works inju ry to the vines. There is a three-story warehouse ! on the marsh with a capacity of 20, 000 barrels of berries; and four large two story houses capable of furnishing shelter for 1.500 pickers. The superintendent’s residence is a comfortable cottage house, surroun ded bv giant oaks and elms, and stands near the warehouse on an “island" or small tract of high dry 1 land near the center of the great marsh. The pickers’ quarters stand ou another island about 200 yards away. A plank roadway, built on piles, about two feet above the level of the ground, leads from the mainland to the warehouse and other buildings, a distance of more than half a mile. Several wooden railways diverge from the warehouse to all parts of the marsh; and on them flat | cars, propelled by hand, are sent out 1 at intervals, during the picking sea son, to bring in the berries from the hands of the pickers. Each picker is provided with a crate, holding ; just a bushel, which is kept close at | hand. The berries are first picked in tin pans or pails, and from these ! emptied into the crates, in which i they are carried to the warehouse, j where an empty crate is given the i picker in exchange for a full one. Thus equipped and improved, the Saekctt marsh is valued at $150,000. Thirteen thousand barrels have been harvested from this great farm in a single season. The selling price in the Chicago market varies, in differ ent seasons, from $S to $10 per bar rel. There are several other marshes j of various size in the vicinity. The picking season usually begins about September 1st, and from that time until October 1st the marshes swarm with men, women and chil dren. ranging in age from 0 to 80 I years; made up from almost every nationality under the sun. Bohe mians and l’olanders. furnish the majority of the? working force, while Germans, Irish, Swedes, Nor we gians, Danes. Negroes, Indians and Americans contribute to the inotly contingent. The)' come from every direction and from various dis tances, some of them traveling a hundred miles or more to secure a few days’ or weeks’ work. Almost i | every farmer or woodsman living | anywhere in the region of the marshes turns out with his entire family: and the families of all the laboring men and mechanics of the surrounding towns and cities join in the general hegira to the bogs, and ! help to harvest the fruit. Those : living within a few miles go out in | the morning and return home at ! night, taking their noonday meal with them, while those from a dis ] tancc take provisions and bedding with them and camp in the build i ings provided for that purpose by the marsh owners; doing their own j cooking on the stoves and with the fuel furnished them. The wages vary from fifty cents to a dollar a bushel, owing to the abundance or scarcity of the fruit ! A good picker will gather from three to four bushels a day where the yield is light, and five or six bush els where it is good. The most mon ey is made by families numbering from half a dozen to a dozen mem bers. Every chick and child in such families over six years old is required to turn out and help swell J the revenue of the little household, and the frugal father often pockets ten to twenty dollars a day as the fruits of the combined labors. The j pickers wade into the grass, weeds and vines, however wet with dew or rain, or however deeply Hooded un derneath; making not the slightest effort to keep even their feet dry, and after an hour’s work in the morning are almost as wet as i( they had swum a river. Many of them I wade in barefooted, others wearing | low cowhide shoes, and their feet, al least, are necessarily wet all day long. In many eases their bodies are thinly clad and they must inevi tably sinfer in frosty mornings and evenings and on the raw, cold, rainy ; days that arc frequent in the au tumn months in this latitude; yet they go about their work singing, shouting and jabbering as merrily as a party of comfortably clad ! school children at play. IIow any of them avoid colds, rheumatism ana a uo/.en uiuci uiMrasto, •» mystery; and yet it is rarely that one of them is ill from the effects of this exposure. As many as 3,000 or 4,000 pickers are sometimes em ployed on a single marsh when there is a heavy crop, and an army of i such ragamullins as get together for this purpose, scattered over a hog in confusion and disorder, presents a ' strange and picturesque appearance. Indians are not usually as good pickers as white people, hut. iu the sparsely settled districts, where many of the berry farms are situa ted, it is impossible to get white help enough to take care of the crop in the short time available for the work, and owners are compelled to employ the aborigines. A rake, with the prongs shaped like the letter V, is used for pick ing iu some cases, but owing to the large amount of grass and weeds that grow among the vines on these wild marshes, this instru ment is rarely available. After be ing picked the berries are stored iu warehouses for a period varying from one to three weeks. They are washed and dried by being passed through a fanning-mill made for the purpose, and arc then allowed to cure and ripen thoroughly before they are , shipped to market. From statistics gathered by the American Cranberry Growers’ Asso ciation it is learned that in 18S3 Wisconsin produced 135,507 bush els; in 1884. 24,783; in 1885, 264,432 bushels; and in 1886, 70.686 bushels By these figures it will be seen that the yield is very irregular. This is owing, principally, to the fact that many of the marshes are not yet pro vided with the means of tioodiug. and, of course, suffer from worms, , droughts, late spring or early au ! tumn frosts, and extensive fires start i ed by sparks from the engines on railroads running through the marshes. These and various other evils are averted on the more im proved farms. So that while hand some fortunes have, in many cases i been made in cranberry growing, many thousands of dollars have, on the other hand been sunk in the same industry. Only the wealthier owners, who have expended vast sums of mon ey in improving and equipping their property, can calculate with any de gree of certainty on a paying crop of fruit evQfcy year. Chicago is the great distributing point for the berries produced in Wisconsin, shipments being made thence to nearly every State and Territory in the Union, to Canada, to Mexico, and to several European countries. Berries sent to the Southern markets are put up in wa ter-tight packages, and the casks are then filled with water, this being the only means by which the)’ can be kept in hot weather. Even in this condition they can be kept only a few days after reaching hot cli mates. ---— ORIGIN OF FAMILY NAMES. The Greeks, with tew exceptions, had no family or sire names. The Romans had three names; first, a proper name (pnenomcn), the dis tinction ot' tiic individual, like our babtismal or Christian name; sec ond, the name of the class (nomen), and, third, the family name (cogno men). Sometimes to these were ad ded, on account ot act or valor or event, a fourth name (agnomen), as Publius (pnenomcn), Cornelius (the clan of Cornelius), Scipio (the fam ily), and Africanus (the agnomen), because of his victories in Africa. The pnenomcn was generally not written in full, as 31. lor 3Iarcus, P. for Publius, etc.; as 31. Tulius Cice ro. i. e., “31 arcus,” to distinguish him from his brother Quintus, Tul lius the clan, and Cicero, the family. In Germany and the Teutonic na tions family or surnames (or as it should be spelled, “sirnames,” i. e., sire or father's name) were little used before the fourteenth century. Every one had a baptismal name only. The most ancient, method was to add the father’s name to their own, as John son, William son, Da vid-son, etc. The Arabians still fol low this custom; e. g., Hali-son Yoar is called Elm llali (Kali's son) and Your s son would be Ilebu Yoar. The surnames given in England about the time of William the con queror wer selected,like the agnomen of the Romans, from some peculiar circumstance relating to the individ ual. Thus, the earl of Anjou ob tained the surname of Planlagenot from the well-known story, and his descendants were called Plantagen ets. Kitz (from the old French tills meaning “son"). 3Iack (Scottish), Ap, (Welsh), O’ (Irish). Ez (Span ish ), and Ben were all prefixes, mean ing in those several languages “son." But Kitz meant illegitimate son. The German sohu, Swedish son. Dutch j son are the same. German von, Dutch van. French de mean “of or t “from,” referring to the residence or descent. On the establishment of the feudal system new names were introduced, derived either from oc cupation, as Smith, Turner. Carpen ter, Fuller, etc., from place of nativ itv, as French, Welsh, etc., or from personal complexion or other pecul iarities, as White, Brown, Black, Long. Short, Sweet, Smart, Coy, Martin, Wren, etc.— A Hon hi (onsfi till hot. A TYPICAL NEVADIAN. San Francisco Chronicle. The* festive Nevada sheep-herder when he comes to town is critical or nothing. He resents anything that savors of the dude, and one of the things he can't stomach is the plug hat. An opera manager in Reno was walking alongon Sun lay morn ing. The sun's rays were reflected on his shining silk hat, and the spec tacle had the effect on a sheep herd er drinking at a neighboring bar that a red flag has on a bull. The herder attacked the man, whom he called a dude, and demolished the plug hat with a revolver. When he pays his line and goes back on the range he will be a hero in the eyes of the sheep-herders because of his protest against effete eastern styles. A chimney only fifty-six feet high built in common lime mortar,oscilla ted to an alarming degree. Conse quently the chimney was loaded by putting on the top an iron plate weighing upward of 250 pounds. The cure was perfect. Although the stack is built in an exposed situa tion, it has stood for sixteen years, during which many severe storms have tried its strength, yet it does not show any horizontal or vertical cracks. Similar results arc recorded in connection with the construction of a mill at Mu 11 fort, near Rheydt. Here a mill-owner found it necessary to heighten a building by two stories without interrupting work in the fac tory below. The constant vibration caused by the machinery, however, destroyed the walls as last as the bricks were laid. To check this ef fect the walls were heavily loaded with iron rails as fast as flic cement would bear them, and by this means the additional height was safely reached, the vibration of the walls being completely stopped.—Engin eering. [a mansion no one can LIVE IN. j Written for the Courier-Journnl by Franklin II. North. The strollers along Fifth avenue must have often observed,while pass ing Eighty-sixth street, a fine, new j brown-stone mansion that is always tenantiess. An air of perennial gloom seems to hover over it, and the vacant lot separating it trom Eighty-sixth street—a deep, rocky, unkempt sort of lot, with its occa sional tomato-can, sardine-box and hoop-skirt—makes the great wall of brick that frowns down upon it look the more bare and melancholy. Man)’, no doubt, have wondered why this costly house should not find a tenant, situated as it is along the grandest avenue of the continent— should not find some wealthy family that would soften the exterior of the front with rich curtins, smarten up the costly glasses of the noble door way and send bright-eyed, laughing children to play upon the stoop and romp about the smooth pavement. Now and then, so I am told, a family is induced to move into the house by some of the real estate agents that have it on their lists. Carts and furniture vans roll up to the door and deposit heavy burdens of costly furniture. Carpets arc put down, the windows polished, the halls scrubbed and an air of life and ani mation is given to the place. But only for a few weeks. Then the carts and the vans come back, the furni ture is taken out again, the carpets come ui>, the pictures come down from the walls, and once more the house is left solemn, silent and ten antless. It seems there is a myste ry about this house, and the nature of this mystery 1 purpose to de scribe as nearly as possible in the words of a friend of mine who is fa miliar with its history. The house is said to belong to the estate of the late Mr. John Roach, the shipbuilder, and though it is some two years old, no family has \ct been found willing to remain in it save for a very short period. They were dis turbed during the day and awakeu I ed at night by strange sounds and moving though unseen fonns, and, 'once out, dcc’aied they would not re-enter were they to have the house ' without the payment of a dollar. Some little time ago a family con- j sistingof a young man his wife and ! lime children moved in. The agent promised to put the house in thor- j oiigh repair, and so, when it was dis-j : ccrucd that the pipes were out of' order, they notified him and he at | once sent an expert plumber. This man and his assistants I’iscoverng ; the seat of the trouble to be in the cellar, went down there and weio 1 soon at work hammering and sol (loving and tinkering, as is their worn. i>uu mey uiuu t suj vu-j ; long; not even long enough to com- j plele tlie'r work. On the second day of their labors they suddenly and without explanation knocked otr work and qirt the place. “What do 1 you mean by leaving your work half ; finished and everything in disorder?” i demanded the new occupant (whom j I shall call Mr. Smith) ns he hur- j ried into the plumber’s shop. ‘•Well,” replied the plumber, brusquely, “we can’t work down in no celler Fkctlia* — the-e’s too.much draught.” “Can’t wo k in a cellar because of a draught?” replied the surprised Mr. Smith, repeating the words, “why in thunder didn’t you stop the draught?” “Oh, it don’t make no difference,” s.;id the plumb er, evidently ill at ease and embar assed, “we can’t work there, and that's all about it.” The man did not mean to be insolen^; he only j seemed anxious to give up the job. j He was pa’e and lie stammered as be spoke. “But why don’t you take your tools out if you’ve given up the j job?' demanded Mr. Smith. “Oh, never mind the tools,” was the reply; “we ain’t going back there for no tools.nor for nothin’ e'se.* It was but natural that Mr. Smith should be surprised at this remark able behavior of the plumber, who j was willing not only to give up a good paying job, but to lose a kit of valuable tools. He did not tell bis wife about the matter, for fear of frightening her, but lie spoke of it to several of his friends, and they could not account for it in any other way, save that the plumbers, being ignorant, and hence superstitious, had seen or heard something which had frightened them and made them i believe the place was haunted. It was not long after this when some very strange things happened j ; in this Fif.h avenne mansion. M»*s. Smith, who was the first one annoy- 1 ed by them, delayed for some time i telling her husband what she had heard. She liked the house, the j rent was unusually low, considering its position, and she was loath to ! annoy him about what she tried to make herself believe could readily 1 be explained. She discovered, how ever, that, for some unknown cause, the servants, one after another, be- ! came dissatisfied and showed a dls ; position to quit at short notice. No 1 amount of kindness, of considerate treatment, served to make them happy and contented. They would not say why they wished to leave her service, and not even a promise of advanced w’ages, when once they were resolved to depart, seemed snf ficieut to shake their determination. One night, when Uie lady find her husband were preparing to retire, the sounds of many footsteps were heard in the spare rooms on the third floor just over her head. She knew that none of her family were there, for these rooms had not yet been furnished. It could not be the servants, for the lady had just come from below stairs, where she had seen them finishing up their work, and as the door of her chamber, which almost faced the stairway, was open, she would have noticed them as they passed. So she called her husband, and he, thoroughly aroused by what had lately trans pired in the house, made a dash for the rooms whence the noises pro ceeded, determined to clear up the mystery. He bolted into the apart ments, he searched the closets, the hallway, and even thrust his arm up the chimneys of the fireplaces. He saw no one, he heard no one! A few nights afterward there was a still more uncanny occurrence. Husband and wife and young lady, temporarily sojourning with them, sat by the open fire place of their sitting-room on the second floor, The rain pattered fitfully against the windows, and the shadows of night, disturbed by the flickering gas lights in the street, wandered into the dimly lighted apartment, for the gas was turned down, and threw various uncouth figures upon the wall. “What is that?” suddenly exclaimed the wife, and she started up and looked in the direction of the stairway, the landing of which, as said before, being just outside the door of this room. All listened. Sure enough, there was a distinct sound of people coming slowly up the stairway. They stepped heavily, as if carrying some burden between them, and the creaking of the stairs and the swish swish of the women’s clothing alpng the ballastcrs was distinct. Mr. Smith made a leap for the door, and the two women put their hands to their heads in flight. There was nothing to be seen on the stairway, absolutely nothing, and, as the man stood upon the landing and looked down, there was not a sound to be heard, the silence being almost oppressive, ftnt no sooner wws he returned into the chamber than tbo sounds began again, the procession up the stairway continued its solemn wav, carrying its burden, and the stairs creaked and the swish of the female garments was once more aud ible. This was too much for the Smith taumy, anil tney were niuy resolved to leave the house at an early day. But poor Mrs. Smith was destined to receive a worse fright Her hus band being called out of town on business, she locked and bolted the doors of the apartments in which herself and children slept, and dos •perately determined to close her ears to the uncouth noises that nightly proceeded front the stairway and the hall. She was awakened in the middle of the night by the tramping of people with measured step in the room immediately overhead. They seemed to be carrying some heavy body into the room which they let down with a thud upon the floor, and the groans wrhich came down the chimney, were grewsome and distressing. The poor woman was horror-struck. She lav awake, as she afterwards described her condi tion to a friend, like one in a trance, with wide open eyes, staring into the inky darkness of her apartment, unable to move a limb and fearing to turn her eyes either to the left or right, lest she should see some terri ble form. While she was in this state she heard the screams of her two children in the adjoining room, and at the same time felt her bed swaying from side to side. With a frantic effort she leaped from her bed and flew to their assistance. Some one, they said, had palled the bed clothes oft of them; and. sure enough, the coverings of the two lit tic cots lay piled upon the floor. She lighted the gas and examined the locks anil holts of the doors in both chambers. They were undisturbed. Pacing up and down, she awaited the coming of day, resolved not to pass another night in the house, a resolve that was the more firmly established when the servants ap peared with blanched faces and their hats on, to tell her they wouldn’t re main longer under the roof for love or money. Mr. Smith, on his arrival in the afternoon, hearing of the occurrences of the preceding night, was indig nant rather than alarmed. A hard working man is Mr. Smith, a matter of-fact man, with no imagination, and an utter contempt for every thing in the way of spiritualistic manifestations. He took his wife an<l children to a neighbor’s house, but determined himself to see tbc thing out. Describing the situation to a couple of his friends, the three men, armed with revolvers, (Jistrib uted themselves over the house and awaited a recurrence of the pfevious night’s entertainment. When they were about tired of keeping a fruit less vigil, and ready to lie down and go to sleep, the gas, which they had kept lighted, suddenly went out; groans were heard in the stairway, and when they opened their doors to try and discover the origin, they en countered a fierce gust of wind that* almost took their breath away, fin ing down stairs together, they found all the doors and windows closed and nothing whatever to indicate the presence of intruders. Then they searched the house from garret, to cellar without avail. But in> sooner did they try to go to sleep than the noises began again, and when morning came Mr. Smith made* up his mind to give up the house, for while, as he said, he didn’t be lieve in ghosts, and was sure there was nothing supernatural about the manifestations, tho fact remained that the house was filled at night with all kinds of uncanny and rest disturbing noises, and so ;t was just as bad as if it were really haunted, i A few days later the neighbors saw the ofiects of the Smith family i carried out of the Fifth avenue man sion and carted away. PURE ANI) MANLY. ficncral Robert E. Lee was a thoughtful boy, for his mother had taught .him to practice self-dcniat and self-control, and to be economi cal in expending money. His father’s death, when the boy was but eleven years of ago, made him a “little man.” He did the marketing, managed outdoor affairs and looked atter the comfort of his invalid mother. As soon as school closed for the noon recess he rushed away from the frolicsome boys and hur ried home to arrange for his mother's daily ride Young as he was, he carried her to the carriage, arranged the cushions, and seating himself by her side tried to entertain her, gravely reminding her that the ride would fail to benefit her unless she was cheerful. “Robert is both a son and a daughter to me,” the mother used to say. He was tlie moft inetnouicai man agcfi anil the neatest of housekeep ers. Unlike many boys, he ilid not think it beneath him to attend to details or to do little things with as muck carei'uUiqss as if they were large. While studying conic sec tious he drew diagrams on a slate. Though he knew the one he was 1 drawing would he rubbed out to 1 make room for another, ho drew it with as much accuracy and neatness as if it were to he engraved. After his return from the Mexican war, his wife on opening his trunk found every article of clothing he had taken with him, and a bottle of brandy, which had been put for medical purposes, unopened. He never drank brandy or whis ky, and rarely a glass of wine, and he never used tobacco. To appro hend the meaning of this fact, and its powerful illustration of the lad's self-control, one must recall the rol licking life and drinking customs of Virginia during General Lee’s boy - hood and youth. During a school vacation, lie was a guest in a country house, where the host, a fascinating gentleman of culture, lived a gay, wild life. Young Robert, who had been trained to self-control and self-denial, was shocked. lie made no comment on what lie saw, but he refused to join in the revels. The unspoken rebuke brought to his bedside, the night before his de parture, the penitent host. The youth’s abstinence had shamed him, nad he, man of the world,came to con fess to his youthful guest sorrow for the wild life he was leading. Earnestly he warned him to he ware of acquiring drinking habits, and urged him to persist in his tem perate course of life. On leaving him, the host promised he would try to reform. Yet this methodical, self-controfl ed, affectionate, serviceable boy was no “goodey." He was the son of “Light Horse Harry,” of the Revo lution, and inherited his fat In r's martial spirit. He chose the army for his profession, and his friends and relatives approved his choice. He entered West point at the age of eighteen, graduated second in his c lass, and during the four years of cadet life he did not receive a de ment mark for any breach of rules or neglect of duty. He avoided to bacco and intoxicating liquors, never uttered a word to which a woman might not have listened, and never did a deed which his mother could not have approved. Lads who think it effeminate to be good, and manly to be bad. are asked to harmonize their notions with the pure, noble boyhood of General Robert E. Lee. It is estimated that the whole number of umbrellas made in the United States annually is 8,000,000. The number borrowed is supposed to be a little less than 8,000.000. — — — During the three daj’s of the mas sacre of St. Rartholomew, August 23-25, 1572, there were over 50,000 victims sacrificed.