Semi-weekly Bourbon news. [volume], October 05, 1883, Image 2

About Semi-weekly Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Bourbon County, Kentucky.) 1883-1895

Image provided by: University of Kentucky, Lexington, KY

                
v
THE' HEWSf
BRUCE CHAMP, Publisher.
PARIS. KENTUCKY
MY SUNBEAM. - '
Tcparertw:Q,sunbeamskoa,tbc(,floor;SWlfcjSrM
Buu.uuu.ni3iiur xu see;
And skies above,
AtttUdnp belbnjjs to me.
My sunbeam lif t3 her tiny hands,
HecrPlay f ello wta, irrasp, , , ,,,.. .
When lOf a shadow ! and
Eludes my darling's clasp.
Yet'once ajrain it domes: and see." iiv '
It lies now here, now there;
It kisses baby's dimpled cheek, .. r y
And nestles in her,hairi ..,.
Makes golden every little curl j '
Utfon the precious head," ."
'Till, like a dream, again its light - i
From baby's side has fled. l v-'
Oh.! wondering baby eyes, which weep
, At shadows left behind, , . , k v.,.
Fear not, the cloud will lif t, 'anh'you
The vanished beam shall find.
Look! even now upon the wall
It climbs, then tumbles down
To shine at baby's feet ere it
. Once more her head shall crown.
God grant, dear little one, that Heaven
Its brightest beams may lay
Upon the paths your feet must tread
Throughout life's little day.
Full many a beam of purest gold
Your hands will strive to clasp;
Full many a-shadow stern will snatch
The sunbeam from your grasp.
But even ere you cease to grieve
Behold, the clouds roll by.
And where the shadow dwelt before
A hundred sunbeams lie.
Look always for the brightest spot,
Ate you through life shall go,
And Hope and Faith shall fill your heart
With Heaven's purest glow.
Mary D. Brine, in N. Y. Independent.
-- -
A "CUR'US" WILL.
"Yes'ni, tell you what, the world does
move." The speaker was "Uncle"
Ben, a man without kindred, yet uncle
to everybody. "Time was when a
woman would no more think of handlin'
money than of llyin'. Why, as good a
man as old Deacon White would take
the cloth his wife had been
down to the store, git the pay for it, and
bring it home, and if she put as much
as her finger onto a silver quarter, or a
bill, he'd snap out: 'Let that alone,
won t you.'' That 'ere s money.
'rr curus thins: about it was she
never thought of answering: him back,
and standin' up for her rights. 'Twan't
heard on in them days.
"Once in a while, when Mis' White
wanted a new ribbon or somethin' uncommon,
I've seen that woman, stan'
and tease for fifty cents, and he'd pretend
he didn't hear her, and finally he'd
hand it over to her with a dreadful
scowl onto his face, and say: 'Here 'tis,
Melissy, and don't you luse it. Where's
your handkercher to tie it up in?" And
Melissy would look as plesed as could
be, when perhaps she'd done
or a hundred dollars' wuth of
weavin' besides all her housework.
'-But the meanest thing I ever heerd
on was the way Joshua Tubbs portioned
off his darter Betsey. You see she'd
spun and wove, and wove and spun, and
had nothin' of her own. She'd
got along in years, and was bent just
nigh about double. Poor woman, she
was as crooked as a rainbow. She'd
got so that she was just a machine for
work. She never smiled nor nothin'.
Her fathered took all her airnin's and
had added farm to farm stunny kind
of land it was that wouldn't raise
nothin' but mulleins and huckleberries;
he'd been salting down money, too, in
tbn bank he was allers puttin' in an'
myver takin' out. Neighbors used to
say that his hens had a mournful way
of cacklin', as if they knowed their
eggs would be grabbed afore they was
cold, and sold. There wan't no day so
stormy but what you'd see Joshua
Tubbs goin' by with a load o' ship-timber
or bark, and on top o' that
would be one o' Betsey's pieces o' factory,
or a dozen hen's eggs, or a peck
apples. .
iV -
Wn ho'l loin Ttr mnnor omnrMTi
fast. When he came to die he was wuth
fifteen thousand dollars or more,andhow
dew you s'pose he pervided for Betsey?
Why, in his will he just give her a hum
with her brother, Artemus, on the old
.place, but not a cent she could call her
own. She couldn't work no more, she
waa so wore out, she could not straighV
en herself up, and was old and humly,
and Artemus and his wife, when thcy
found out she couldn't do nothin', they
didn't want her; so they was kinder
hard on her, and turned her off, and she
got low-spirited and deranged-like, and
went over to Job Watson s mill-pond
ind dro'vned herself, and that was the
last o' her.
"But the most cur' us will that I ever
heerd on 'was Deacon 'Bijah Clark's.
Remember it, don't you? You don't?
i declare if I'd ever heerd it onct, I
couldn't have forgot it. The Deacon
railly did think a heap o' his wife, and
Esther Clark was a good woman if ever
there was one. He was one o' them
men as thought a woman never ought
to touch money, and he'd pervided so
she wouldn't have np trouble o' that
kind.
"His will began like this: 'I, Bijah
Clark, of the town of Salem, considerin'
the onsartainty of this mortal life, and
bein' of sound memory, blessed be Almighty
God for the same, dew give and
bequeath unto my beloved wife, Esther
Clark, all and singular,, the personal
which' she owned at the time of
Eroperty
er intermarriage with me.' You see
in them days wimmen couldn't even
hold what was their own, and for that
matter, Esther hadn't nothin.' but a
chist of drawers and a feather bed.
'Also one-third part of the farm in
Salem where I now reside, the same to
be taken from that portion not includin'
the buildin's; also, the use and
of the south-east closet of the
Eancy
ouse where I now reside; also the
privilege of cookin' at the fire-place,
and the use of the tin baker in the
kitchen of said house during the term of
one year and six months after my decease;
the same to be in full recompense
of, and for any dower and thirds which
she may or can in anywise claim and
demand out of my estate.'
"Now, wan't that ere cur'us? And
not exactly easy for the old woman,
was it? Don't know what 'Bijah
thought she was goin' to dew when the
eighteen months was up; couldn't cook
by the fire-place no more, couldn't
uleop " in the bed-room, no money,
nothin' to to do but go and reside, as
the lawyers say. on the one-third of the
farm not includin' the buildin's.
tmsm
''The will went on i & give to my
.1 oh-'.K ,-, G &,'" . ?J,
nieceJbiaaviUiaric. one wooden nionkv
.two brass kettles, alljmy iron and hoi-,
one firesh6vel two heifers,
.six yall0w chairs, one JBible, one bedi!
with bedding and bedstead, Doddridge's
"Rise and Progress in Religion," one
lift'nfnhisf TinnnrinrrA'ss KnnroroTTif"rki "
one table, one stand with oil-cloth cover
for the same.
-" 'To'my nephew, ''Lijah Clark, I unreservedly
give and bequeath all the rest,
residue and remainder omys personal
estate and effects not herein-before dispensed
tion of my f arm, upon which are situated
my houses and, tenementals.'
"Tacked onto the last eend o' the will,
was a cocTercil in" which ijah Clark
give the children of"his former pastor,
Elder Eleazer Smith, 'A set o' blue-'
edged crockery what- there was- left
on t "Fox's Book of Martyrs" cheerful
kind o' readin' for the young folks-n
and a brass warming-pan.'
"You see he got things dreadfully
mixed up, brass kettles and Bibles, but
the will Was drawn only a day before
his death, when things was gettin'
kind o' misty in his own mind. He
meant that his wife shouldn't have no
trouble handlin' money. The deacon
hadn't been dead a nionth, afore his
niece Liddy, dropped off, too, and that
left all her property to her brother
'Lijah; so Doddrige's 'Rise' and 'Regeneration,'
went right back again to the
old shelf.
f'Twan't long afore 'Lijah and his
wife let their Aunt Esther know who was
the marsters in that house. I s'pose it
was natur' to do jist so, and human
is poor stuff anyway, and it warn't
long afore she was driv inco tha,t ere
southeast bed-room and closet, nnd told
that she must remain there.
" 'Lijah's wife, right contrary to the
will, forbid her cooking by the fire-place
but sent her a leetle dish o' puddin' and
merlasses three times a day, saying that
it was good enough for anybody and
dreadful fillin'.
"It was no matter whether Mis' Clark
liked it or not; it sartainly wan't very
fillin' to her, for she growed poor on it,
and looked ten years older than she did
on the day the deacon died.
"JNow, Mis' Ularkwas a nat'ral cook,
and ye know what that means. If she
set out to fry a piece o' pork, why, it
was browned to jest the right brown:
even in bilin' pertaters she knew jest
how to dew it. They warn't never
srijrsr, but allers come out mealy and
whole. When she fairly laid herself
out, bless me! You should have eat her
doughnuts and gingerbread and pumpkin
pies. It was cookin' as was cookin'.
She'd beat the hull neighborhood.
"Now the deacon set a good deal by
Esther, and especially by her victuals;
and, arter all, a few ribbons and curls
may catch a husband, but there's
like good, hullsome cookin' to keep
him in traces. The way to a man's
affections lies right through the stomach,
and it Stan's to reason it should be so,
for yaller biscuits, and sour bread
brings on dyspepsy, and that makes
everybody cross and snarlin'.
"But I was tellin' how that will
worked. 'Lijah and his wife put the
screws onto Esther, and the property
was given in such cur'us way that she
couldn't do nothin' with it. True, she
had the use of one-third o' the farm, but
there wern't no buildings onto it, and I
reckon that land is wus than money for
a woman to handle; so there she was
right under their thumb, and they
knowed it. Folks kinder thought she
was losing her mind; anyhow she got
drefful low-spirited.
'It happened about this time that
Squire Peters lost his wife Deacon
Clark's folks and the Peterses had allers
been dreitul intimate. JNow a very
cur'us circumstance occurred, or, rather,
it came to light. It seems that some
thirty years before, when Esther was a
srirl even old folks is
young some time in their lives Squire
Peters writ her a letter, askin' her to
marry him.
"In them days postage was high, and
he hadn't no two shillin's to fool away,
so he put it into the hands of his Uncle
Zebedee, who was goin' right to Salem,
and asked him to carry it to Esther.
This was in the month o' March.
"Zebedee Peters was one o' them awful
forgitful men; he slipped that letter
into his overcoat pocket, and then it
slipped out o' his mind entirely. When
he got home from his journey it had
rowed warm, and the overcoat was
f urig up in the closet, and nobody
looked into the pockets till the next fall.
Then what should Zebedee, in fumbling
around, draw out, but that ere love letter.
'Twas a cur'us circumstance.
"In the meantime, during this ere
summer, Squire Peters, feelin' a good
deal slighted in not hearing from Esther,
had done just what many another disappointed
man does, engaged himself right
away to a girl he didn't care any great
for, and Esther had been married to
Deacon Clark.
"In course o' time Squire Peters' folks
bought a farm up to Salem, came up
there to live, and things moved on as if
nothing had happened, and nothin'
railly had happened, for the Squire kept
his own secret, and that was the end
on't. All parties lived happily enough.
"In them days divorces warn't talked
about, nor incompatibilities. When
men and women got married they
knowed it was for life, and they'd got
to stand it for better or for wus. Besides,
it was such hard work to get a
liyin,' they didn't get no time tolsigh
over what might have been. A man
and h'is wife was like a pair o' oxen
they was yoked together and it was
handier, drawing a load, not to pull
apart.
"Just at the right time Mis' Peters
died, and the Squire railly mourned for
her. She was a mighty good woman,
though she could'nt cook like Esther
Clark, and when she'd been buried nigh
onto four weeks, Squire Peters happened
to meet Esther, if you can call that
happenin' for which a man has been
contrivin' and watchin' for five days.
''Wall, he just slid that old love letter,
yaller with age, into her hand, and
explained the circumstance a ntue, ana
thats all he said and done then, xou
see he wanted to wait till a proper time.
Then he contrived that she should get
an invito to spend the winter with a
fourth couisin o' hern she was awful
scant on for relations and then she got
fatted up with somethin' more fillm'
than puddin' and merlasse3.
"A.t the end o' the year, he went on
A
i
and -and
-brought
her home ThelfirstthiSg Squire Peters -d&
wa3 tafrturn; over a ncwBeaf with nis
wife?. y z .; K
sdld some' heifers, and
he tossed the money over to her in a
careless way, and said: Nbw Esther,
'count that "ere over and see if it' a all '
Straight.'. -.
"If he had thrown some black spiders
atiier, she 'wouldn't have bcen"more
skeered.
- " 'I don't know nothin' about-money,''
aid, andhe remgmb
Deacon Clark used to snapher up when
she only jest teched it.
" 'Wall, it's time you did. Kow
you've got to begin. There's no use in
wimmen folks being so ignorant about
business matters.'
" 'Wh", I never studied 'rithmetic but
four weeks, and then I never went no
further than substraction. '
'"Never mind that, Esther,' said the
Squire, laughin' ; 'I heered you countin'
up six dozen egs t'other day, and
money hain't no different from them, as
I-knows on.'
"You ought to have seen the look on
that woman's face as she turned over
the bills. There Was seventy dollars of
em, ana she done pretty well at
'em. The fust time she made ninety
dollars of 'em, and the last time, forty.
'Twern't so bad as it might have been,
and on the other hand 'twan't what
you'd call accurat'; but her husband
kept her at it, encouragin' her along,
an' helpin' her on, for, as he said, when
she got to be Mis' Widow Peters, he
wanted her to know enough 'bout dollars
and cents not to be imposed upon:
at which the tears would come into
Esther's eyes, and she'd say she hoped
she shouldn't outlive him.
" 'Nobody knows nothin' about that,
but one or t'other has got to go fust, and
ye may as well l'arn all ye can 'bout
takin' keer of yourself.'
"They was an awful happy couple.
Say what 3011' re a mind to," married
folks gits along better when there's
plenty of love between them, than when
they're drawin' together just from a sense
of dooty. I've allers said I should
my second marriage better' n mj
fust, I was sure, though I've never
found one, as yet. It's and awful responsibility
to go into the
and say: 'With my worldly goods I
thee endow,' especially when you ain't
got no worldly goods to speak of.
"But Iwas tellin' 'bout Squire Peters.
He got his wife pretty well broke in, so
there couldn't nobody cheat her, One
day he was going off to 'the city for
that was what Salem had growed to be
and saj's he: "Esther, you may sell
them steers, if the man should come
along.'
" 'I think I will,' said she, laughing;
'how much do you ask for 'em?'
"Oh, seventy dollars,' he said, and oft
he went.
"I happened to be in there when the
drover came. She talked around a
leetle about the price, and actually sold
them steers for eighty-five dollars, and
then she took the money, not a bit
scared; she rung the silver and
squinted at the bills to see if they was
giniwin', as handy as them cashiers in a
city bank; and she was about the pleased-est
woman you ever see, when the
Squire came hum, and she told him
what she'd been up to. You see women
don't enjoy being so helpless, and havin'
overseers put over 'em, countin' ever
cent for 'em as if they was.ijiots.
"There wan't much Squire Peters
could do with that 'ere one-third of his
wife's property the will was such a
drefful cur'us one until be found a
German who wanted to hire it. He
leased it for some years, and what did
lie put onto it but a slaughter-house.
Yoii see Salem was growin' proper fast,
and the wouldn't allow no killin' done
in the city. Now that jest spi'lt Lijah's
hull farm to him and to his wife. Not
that it hurt their feelin's so much to see
the poor bleatin' lambs driv' by, and the
cows with their calves a followin' 'em
I'm not savin' but beef-steak and
ton chops ain't good and toothsome m
their way, but it takes the relish out o ?
them to see. the dumb critters going to
the slaughter, lookin' up at ybu with
their great lonesome eyes but Lijah
and his wife weren't no way tender,
and what fretted them was that there
got to be such a drefful stench from the
slaughter-house there weren't no livin'
near it. Mis' Peters' lot was to the
south of 'em, and the wind was mostly
blowin' from that 'ere quarter; and
Lijah was took sick and had a heavj
doctor's bill to pay they all got ailin'
the cows wouldn t drmk out o the crick,
the water was so pi.sened, and folks
went along the road their
noses, till hnall Lijah couldn't stan' it
.no longer; so he just buys out the
widow's hull right in the place pays a
harnsom' price for it, too and then he
buys out the German's lease; altogether
it cost him one good sum.
" 'Now,' said Squire Peters to Lijah,
'hope you'll lam somethin'. Never saw
the time yet when the biter didn't get
bit; and, furthermore' you see the
Squire'd been a Justice of the Peace,
and had got into the habit o' usin' that
ere word 'I'll leave it to you if you
hadn't ought to have used your aunt a
leetle better, seein' you started poor as
poverty, and all you're wuth has come
from that ere poverty.'
"You see he give him an awful talk-in'
to, and it done some good, for the
Squire said that Lijah was the
man that ever he see.
"Heerd how the Squire and his wife
died, hain't you? Well, 'twas a drefful
cur'us circumstance. They was both
took the same day with a fever ketched
it from one another, 1 'spect. Years
gone by, when folks was took sick, it
was called a 'Dispensation o' Providence,'
but now nobody can't have
no fever, nor dipthery, nor nothin',
without somebody's about
sanertary conditions, a-peeking into the
drean, or sarchin' the well to see if
some live critter hasn't got drownded
m it.
"The Squire and his wife never
knowed nothin' from the first minit
they was took. One died one day, and
t'other the next, and for all the Squire's
trainin', and Esther being so capable,
she never lived to be Mis' Widow Peters.
They was buried in the same grave, and
the minister preached a most feelin'
sermon from this ere text: 'They was
lovely and pleasant in their lives, and
in death they was not divided.'
"Since that ere time winimen folks
has made a dredful .advance, but
"
krk of li or it's "sback'ards -or for irds I
!
tian'ttell. Now whea man dies. ho
fgives his girl jest as much as 'he does
nis boy, and she keeps it?, fro. She
.cion't go to no man tofceaunt it lor her.
You'll see her over the papers,
how's money's quoted, and
she goes to the bank all 'by herself," and
she has a great roll of bills when she's
out but whether 6r no
a hull -is--any -better off-
than they used to be is more'n. I can
!tcll; stilM can't see us &no win? some-.
thin' has sp'iled 'em." Anna Linwooa,
iW.'ljJMIitSrt.
'mrtirs: Farmer. -
----
Mountains.
It is everywhere the mountains which
control the features of the landscape.
Wherever a wave, in the earth's crust
has been arrested after its upheaval, it
is the height and structure of the mountain
range thus established which determine
the lines where running water
shall channel its way to the sea,
out valley systems, wearing away,
building up and moulding the surface of
the land into all its variety and complexity
of contour. The same mountain
barrier directs the air currents,
orders the rainfall and brings back the
clouds from the sea to replenish the
fountains of the streams which flow forever
from its Hanks. It is the degraded
rock of the highlands, too, which furnishes
soil to cover the earth's nakedness
and clothe it with verdure. In a
true sense, therefore, all natural scenery,
even to its minor details, displays
the dominating force of mountain
masses, although the may be a thousand
miles away. But it is in the mountains
themselves where the handiwork
of Nature's elemental forces is visibly
and comprehensively manifested. Here
where flood and fire and frost have been
working their will throughout . all
geologic time to rear and ruin is found
the most complete embodiment at once
of infinite might and absolute repose.
Vast and silent and strong, the great
mountains are the chosen home of the
Sublime in Nature. Along the axial
ridges of the continents the great rock
masses which furnish the grandest and
most impressive scenery are naturally
looked for. Our own Rockj Mountain
region, with .its domes and pinnacles
and buttressed walls, its gorges and
chasms and cascades, furnishes stupendous
examples of the awful and
majestic. All that is wild and extravagant
can be seen in the wonderlands of
Monument and Yellowstone Parks.
Every aspect of nature, from the savage
and appalling to the green pastures and
still waters which soothe and "restore the
oul," can be found somewhere among
the heights and dephts of the Great Divide.
The entire region is full of interest,
and yet the world kno,Ys comparatively
little of it. There are whole
mountain systems of which no adequate
geological or geographical survey has
yet been made, and important ranges
which are yet practically unknown.
Near the northern boundary of the
United States is the true apex ot the
Continent, where the water from melting
snows flows to Hudson's Bay
through the Saskatchewan, and to the
Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific by way
of the Missouri and the Columbia.
From this interesting point a score of
glittering peaks can be seen which are
all 10,000 feet in height, and yet this
region and the parallel ranges southward
for a hundred miles seem to have
been avoided almost entirel by tourist
and student. There has been no twisting
or crumpling of the sheets of rock
north of the Dearborn River, at which
point the folded strata indicate volcanic
disturbance just where the Belt Range
begins. But the level or regularly inclined
rock layers of different degrees
of hardness have weathered away, leaving
sharp edges, while glaciers and torrents
have excavated vast
giving to the whole mass a startling
resemblance to architectural ruins.
Genuine glaciers were recently discov
ered here by an exploring party of the
Northern Transcontinental Survey,
which are the onlj known examples of
this kind in the Continentel Divide,
with the exception of those reported in
the Wind River Mountains some, years
ago by Dr. D.-Hay den. N. Y. Tribune.
How a Freeze-Out Game Worked.
"As I understand it," said the Chi.
cago lawyer, as he leaned back, you
"Yes, sir."
"It is owned by a stock company, and
you have ten shares?"
"The stock now sells at 95. You
want to bear it down to about 30, and
buy in a controlling interest?"
"Exactly."
"Very well. Your game is to report
that the mill is unsafe, machineiy out of
order, the wheat crop poor, the stockholders
discouraged, and your belief
that the concern will lose $10,000 during
the next year. Then offer your own
stock at 45."
In about a week the man returned,
and when the lawyer asked him how it
worked, he replied:
"I followed your advice. After doing
some tall talking I offered my stock at
45."
"Of course."
And you have cleaned 'em out?"
"No, sir! They bought nvy stock in
before I could turn round twice, and I
am $5,000 out of pocket!"
"Yes, I see I see I see. Humph!
Of course I see! Your game now is to
feign insanity; go to the asylum for a
few weeks, and have me appointed your
guardian!" Wall Street News.
William Faulkner, of Burlington,
Vt., is a striking instance of a man
whose conscience troubles him for a
deed which was decided by the courts to
be meritorious. Twenty years ago, under
great provocation, he shot and killed
a ruffian, for which he was promptly
acquitted on the plea of justifiable
homicide. Nevertheless, for the past
twenty years he has found it impossible
to sleep after three o'clock in the morning.
Remorse seizes him at that hour,
and for several hours after he is driven
out of his house. As there is no other
place open at this time, he has made it
a practice for twenty years past to go
to the press-room of a daily paper, where
he is always looked for exactly at 3:15
a. m. "Rutland Herald.
A Mormon missionary in Georgia
was pelted with eggs, and" driven out of
town by blood-hounds. Ckicaao Times.
-
.
" -: i k 1
. jjMrs. . M Russell,
Memorial Honiefor sOld Lldies, on
f Washington street, has twojpairs of
joung in captivity, so
lame that a stranger can handle their
cages without disturbing them in the
least- While the cage is being handled
they fly about witlTa buzzing noise, alternately
alighting. 4nthe,,rmg,oLthe,
"cage or upon the roost, uttering a faint
''tweet'j! while on the Although
never seen to alight and feed in
ten perch upon'the'edge. of
a small cup in the cage and sip a simp of
and water prepared by Mrs. Russell,
who also keeps a bouquet of bright
flowers in the Cage.
These tiny, gorgeously plumaged
birds, not much larger than grasshoppers,
make no attempt now to escape,
but will perch upon the head of Mrs.
Russell and take sirup from the cup
while she holds it. The bill, wings and
tail are black, the back from then ;ck to
the tail a rich metallic green, and the.
throat white with reddish spots just beneath
the bill. Beneath,- the birds are
white, the color deepening to a reddish
tint toward the wings. There is a white
spot back of each eye, and the tail is
banded with white at the tip. They
enjoy bright sunshine, and show every
sign of contentment as they sit upon
the perch pluming their wing-feathers,
cresting the feathers on
their heads and spreading their tails.
The first bird flew into Mrs. Russell's
room some two weeks ago. She caught
it and kept it for several hours. It flew
about the room, and allowed itself to' be
handled when tired. In brushing along
the ceiling it whitened the feathers upon
its head. She let it go toward evening,
and two das afterward it returned
again, and was identified by the mark
upon its head. She put it in a cage,
and by it captured four others, among
them a ruby-throated humming-bird,
which afterward escaped. A leading
ornithologist believes the birds in captivity
to be the young of the ruby-throated
humming-bird.
Mrs. Russell has a taste for natural
history studies, and is an enthuiastic admirer
of handsomely plumaged butterflies
and birds. In the cases we noticed
little nets skillfully made of cotton and
covered with lichens, which were such
good imitations of bird work that they
might deceive the birds themselves, and
we were surprised to learn that the lady
made them herself. These birds make seventeen
of the humming-bird family Mrs.
Russell has had in Captivity. She succeeded
in keeping one for three months,
and then fearing lest the bird might suffer
for want of proper food she chloroformed
it and sent it to the.. taxidermist,
who pronounced it the fattest hummingbird
he ever saw! Being unable to supply
the birds with insects she makes
beef tea by soaking raw meat in water,
and feeds it to them sparingly. The
birds seem to relish the liquor. Mrs.
Russel intends to winter a pair of these
birds, if possible. It is a rare sight to
see these little beauties living contentedly
in cages. Norwich (Conn.) Bulletin.
----
Petroleum the Old in the New.
Perhaps yiever in the world's history
bfts there occurred a case in which an
article kaown from time immemorial,
aid courted as being of too small value
to have :tny influence whatever, has all
at once become one of the forces which
sway the commerce, and almost the
destinies of nations, to an extent so
wondej'f ul as is actually true in regard
to petroleum. Its progress, its development,
the grasp vhich it has on the
welfare the politics and the destiny of
various countries, above all others, of
our own, deserve a careful study. A
few words in relation to one feature of
its history are all that our present space
will allow; ive may recur to it at another
time.
When we look into the columns of the
various daily papers, and .see with how
much care the petroleum column is
worked up,how its daily, and sometimes
hourly, fluctuations are studied and
quote'd, and when we read a little
further and see what enormous amounts
of the crude article are brought to the
sea-ports New York, of course, chiefly
and what immense shipments are
made to the very ends of the earth (for
China, on the opposite side of the globe,
is becoming now one of our very thirsty
absorbents), we find it difficult to realize
that all this is only a thing of yesterday,
as it were. And yet that is
strictly true. Forty years ago the
woru peiroieum naa no existence m
currnet language. It is a compound
term meaning simply rock oil; it was in
the dictionaries, but it was not known to
people in general. And yet the article
at that time was on sale, 'in the large
cities, and occasionally in smaller
places. But it was in very small quantities,
and was disposed of by the ounce.
Very probably the entire stock on hand
in the city of New York could have
been held in a few five gallon cans.
Those who are old enough to. remember
as far back as 1840 can possibly recall
a very bad-smelling medicine to which
perhaps they were subjected. It was
called Seneca Oil, and was "dreadful
in most instances, used externally,
though not always. It was understood
to be brought from the "Seneca Nation,"
in the Southwestern part of the State of
New York; hence its name. Seneca oil
was simply crude petroleum, and it is
on the instant recognized that it came
from the immediate vicinity,, the very
border of the region which has within
these later years revolutionized the-world
wtth its oil wells.
But in going back .to Seneca oil do we
touch the early days of petroleum? Not
it all; and we shall never touch them.
No glimmering light shines back so far.
When the fires fell on the Ciiies of the
Plain, in the circuit of Jordan, at the
northern end of the Dead 'Sea, the combustible
material which insured the destruction
of Sodom and Gomorrah was
crued petroleum, the "slime pits" of the
Vale of Siddim. Later still, petroleum,
in its viscid form, served to make watertight
the cradle of the baby Moses. But
both these instances are relatively of
modern date; for perfectly untold ages
before that time petroleum had served
to aid in preserving the Egyptian dead
from decomposition, for the very oldest
of all the mummies yet brought to light
reveal its presence. And how early, in
the experience of the human race
proprieties were brought into
4-
s e
play we can only conjecture, for notliinj
.remains to tell us.
therefore, has twn bic
Jories, and they ma- be said- to be as
fstinctfrom each other as though they
were 01 two separate articles. The old
reaches back, so we have seen, to the
days of
August 6, 1859, only twenty-four
years ago! ' And it begins at Titusville,
on Oil Creek, a .branch of the Alleghany
River, in Crawford County, Pennsylvania.
To such narrow limits in bpthjtime
and space are we able to concentrate qiir
attention; and Vet- we are",lbokrngratJthat
which has become one of the mighty
factors in modern civilization. '
Ndw once more we will see what we
can ido in the work of bringing our
ideas to a focus, and this time we will
look at the subject geographically. Pe-.
troleum is found in very various parts
of the world, in fact, almost in even-country,
to sone extent. Thfre are,
however, certain points of
' and they are not many.
The island of Zante, the
mainland opposite in Hungary, Gallicia,
and Moldavia; then again, away off on
the Irawaddy, but most of all on the
Eastern Continent the shores of the
Caspian, especially near Baku; all of
these produce petroleum, and the springs
of Baku yield more than all the others
Combined. But we may fairly set all of
them the entire Eastern Continent
aside as being of no great moment. It
is no mere figure of speech, it is not
rank boasting, to say that petroleum, so
far as, the markets of the world are concerned,
is an American product. Our
regular daily and monthly-yield so far
surpasses all others that they cannot be
counted as rivals in the trade and its results.
The sjirings of Baku yield about 500,-000
barrels annually; we turn out that
amount in the space of a very few
weeks at any time. The records of 1879,
not to speak of anything later, give the
exports only from the three ports of
Philadelphia, Baltimore, and New York
at 8,500,000 barrels. Surely we may
call petroleum, in all its bearings, an
American product.
And does it come from all parts of
America? Perhaps few persons are
aware how very much restricted really
is the region which yields such incredible
results. The fact is that the "oil
center," that from which petroleum has
been produced in paying quantities, can
all be comprised within a space of 39i
square miles. It is wonderful. Scientific
American.
John Splan Tells What is a First-Class
Driven
John Splan, who began his career on
the turf seventeen years ago, when he
was seventeen years old, and has
handled many of the best horses in the.
country, including the famous Rarus, is
as ready and slick a talker as he i3
driver. "Yes, sir, a good driver is as
essential as a good horse. I don't know
as a good man could do much with a
stick of a horse, but I've seen manr a-horse
defeated that would have won if
its driver had known his business. Just
what makes a good driver you can't
tell.
"You see, a driver has got to do more
than sit behind a horse. He must look
out for the shoeing, must get the horse's
head just right, must study his horse,
know how he ought to be fed, harnessed
and all that. There are a hundred
things besides the mere driving that he
must have his eye on and be studying.
Horses are just as different as people.
Some are nervous, fretting and stewing-all
the time, and others are so cool that
a cyclone wouldn't make them jump.
Now, you see if a man that was used to
driving one of the nervous kind took
hold of a lazy horse he'd like as not
break him all up.
"There's one thing a driver must
have, and that's a cool head. He must
not be all down when he doesn't win, or
way up when he does, but just take it as
it comes and go it. I've seen men on
the track with money up on their horses
who were as worked up about it as an
old lady that had got to have her tooth
pulled out. That won't do. I don't
take auy stock in cordials to give a
man the necessary courage. A good
night's sleep is the best thing that any
man can take before a race. Of course
we bet on the races. That's what we
are interested in; it's part of our business.
I don't think horsemen gamble
much outside They put in their money
on a horse just as a man buys a barrel
of flour and expects to get more than
he gave for it. The public think there's
a good deal more crooked work than
there really is. 1 don't know a driver,
and I've slept with most of 'em, who
would pull his employer's horse to win
money himself. It wouldn't pay. Driving
is a profession now, and a man who
has paid $5,000 or $10,000 for 'a piece
of property hunts till he finds a good
man to take care of it, and then pays
him handsomely. Most owners have
all the money they want and are anxious
only that their horses win. Springfield
(Mass.) Republican.
Some Mitigating Circumstances.
"See here, Sloshinger, I want to talk,
to you a moment," said an Austin philanthropist,
"don't you know you are
not doing your duty by your children
in not sending them to school. That's
not the way a fond father should treat
his children."
"Well, now, I don't know about
that," replied Sloshinger. "I don't be-
lieve you fully realize what you are
talking about. Now I have a brother
whose oldest son was sent up for two
years for horse stealing, and the Judge,
in sentencing him, said that his ignorance
and. lack of early education were strong
mitigating circumstances in his case;
and instead of making the sentence ten
years, which he would have done had
the boy ever received any education, ho
would make it only two. Now, do you
suppose I am going to rob my boys of
those mitigating circumstances that
have already been such a bonanza in the
family? No, sir; before I do that, I
hope my right arm will cling to the roof
of my mouth." Texas Sif tings.
-
A negro named Carter was dancing
for the amusement of a street crowd in
an Ohio town. Something was said
that displeased him, and he fired his
revolver at the crowd. The ball struck
a man in the breast, glanced and struck
an iron pump-handle, and was split,
and each of the pieces wounded anothef
mam Cleveland Leader. , . '
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