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West Virginia Democrat. [volume] (Charles Town, W. Va.) 1885-1890, June 10, 1887, Image 1

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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. •
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• 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.

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