The Brookhaven leader. [volume], September 27, 1883, Image 1

About The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891

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BV B. T. HOItlts. A Government in the Interest of the People. By.00 PKB ANSI At.
Volume l brookhaven, Mississippi, Thursday, September 27, ism, number 32.
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f TUTORIAL QUALI FI GA TI0X8.
r«n hr leave a'l hia wronirs to the future, and
,a carry hi? heart in his cheek?
ran he do an hour'swork in amtnnte, and live
upon slipence a week?
nn he courteously talk to an equal, and lirow
heat an impudent dunce?
fan be keep thimrs in apple-pie order, and do
half n-do/en at once?
ran h<- press all the spritursof knowledge with
quick and reliable touch.
And he sun- that he knows how much to
^ know, and knows how to not know too i
much? ., . I
Hues he know how to spur up his virtues, and
put a check rain on his pride?
< an he carry a irontloman's manners within a
rhinoceros' hide?
ran lie know all, and do all, and be all, with
cheerfulness, courairc and rim?
]f so. we perhaps can be iiiakin? an Editor
"outer of nim"l
/ml ‘tis thus with our noble profession, and
thus it will ever be; still
There are some who appreciate its labors, and
some who, perhaps, never will.
OUTWITTING A BULL.
A few summers ago I was on a visit
1<> an old school-companion in Perth
shire. named John (Irant, who was
factor to a gentleman in the county.
He had lately married a cousin of mine,
ami resided In a cottage picturesquely
situated near the river Tay. He was a
good-natured, kind-hearted fellow, and
a groat favorite with all who knew
him.
I was. and still am, engaged in bnsi
lu 's in Glasgow; but on receipt of mv
cousin's invitation—1 usually called
John ••cousin'' —I hurried away from
its smoky purlieus, and was soon in
stalled unilei his hospitable roof. We
were both fond of fishing, and the prox
imity of the Tay afforded evary facility
for its indulgence. Some days after my
arrival 1 accompanied my cousin to set*
a recent purchase, a magnificent bull,
brought home. All the people about
the place had turned out to see the ar
rival. It was a large, powerful animal
of a brownish-red color, with a pair of
splendid horns. Two men led it with
ropes, as it had already earned a repu
1 it ion for fierceness. It was let loose
iu a field near the river, the fences of
which were deemed sufficiently trust
worthy.
One day not long after, my cousin
had occasion to visit a neighboring
market-town, promising to be back
early in the afternoon; and having seen
him canter off-on his favorite chestnut
mare, I repaired to the river-side vvit.i
my rod, intending to kill time at all
events, whether 1 managed to kill any
thing else or not. Sauntering down
1 lie footpath which skirted the field in
which the hull had been quartered, I
stw the animal quietly browsing at
some distance. Having heard or read
somewhere that bulls had an antipathy
to the color red, I determined to prove
by experiment whether it was true.
Standing on a projecting stone of the
fence, on the sa e side of which I stood,
1 unfurled my red silk pocket-handker
chief, and waved it jn the breeze. It
" a< some time before his bovine majesty
noticed it; but after a little, he
raised his head anil looked at
the fluttering rag. Presently,
curiosity impelled him to take a closer
view, and on he came at a smart walk,
finally breaking into a run. When
about fifty yards distant, he paused to
reconnoiter; then, having apparently
made up his nrtid, he bellowed loudly
and charged at full speed. Not wait
ing the actual onslaught, 1 put the
dangerous piece of silk into mv pock
et, and continued my walk. The hull
followed me as far as the limits of the
field would allow, and when interrupt
ed by a fence, stood gazing at me as I
retreated.
A short saunter brought me to the
river, where 1 was soon engaged watch
ing indications of a nibble At
that point, the river was about fifty
y arns wide, anil quite deep enough to
drown one; while the rapidity vvifh
which leaves anil hits of stick floated
l,:|'t indicated a considerable current.
Aboiif two hundred yards front where I
s noil was a boat-house, in which were
usually kept a few skill's, for fishing or
crossing to the other side. I whipped
tlie water as I slowly sauntered in that
direction, hut with small success.
Lighting a cigar, I was about to make
myself comfortable in a grassy nook of
the bank, when a noise caused me
to look round. To my surprise
and dismay, I saw that the bull hail
somehow or other broken out of the
held, and was moving towards me.
fortunately, lie was yet about four
hundred yards distant, and only walk
ing, but evidently highly excited. I
mnugiit at lirst he did not see me,
owing to the swell of the hank; but be
fore I could conceal myself, a loud bel
low warned me that I was recognized.
Mot wishing to excite the brute by a
precipitate retreat, I began to walk
slowly in the direction of the boat
house. Mv dreadful pursuer followed
slowly at tirst, but, gradually augment
ing his pace, broke into a run. I saw
Ht °nee that unless I ran also, my
chance of reaching the boat-house tirst
was small. 1, therefore, set off at full
speed, thinking, in such circumstances,
discretion was the better part of valor.
1 was, however, well aware that my
hasty flight was certain to draw the en
laged beast after me with even greater
'igor than before; but 1 calculated on
reaching my goal tirst, and jumping
into the boat which usually lay there,
push oft, and thus escape being impaled
on his cruel horns. Glancing over my
shoulder, I found, to my dismay, that
the brute was rapidly gaining on me;
with couched head and elevated tail,
on he came like a whirlwind. Fling
ing away my rod, I bent all mv powers
to the attainment of speed. Not dar
lng to look round again, I heard the
rapid thud of his hoofs gradually get
ting louder. Eighty yards from
the boat-house! Frantic with apprehen
sion. I strained every nerve. Fifty,
iwenty yards, and the enraged demon
is close at my heels! I reach the boat
house panting and breathless. The
door is shut—locked! There is no wel
come boat lying at the side, in which I
Unght have escaped. Having no choice
and no time for deliberation, I plunged
into the river, I waded in till it reached
niy neck, then turned, and looked at the
null. To my great relief, he had not
entered the water, but stood glaring at
what was visible of me, apparently as
tonished at the sudden diminution of
“y n*ilk. After giving vent to his dis
apijointment tfy pawing the ground and
bellowing fiercely, he stood eyeing
Die, evidently conscious that I was in
It fix.
Thus we stood looking atone another
for some time, the conviction growing
stronger, as I felt the water cflill me\
tliaT 1 could not remain Ion** where I
wan. I trusted that 5«>me one mi^lit
discovert he escape of the brute, and,
giving tlie alarm, come to my rescue.
But minutes passed slowly without help
appearing, and 1 was getting desperate
ly cold. Once or twice I fancied the
| brute was about to enter the water and
i attack me; but he always paused ab
ruptly on the brink, apparently un
willing to trust himself farther.' If 1
had been a swimmer, I might have
crossed to the other side, and thus have
escaped; but never having learned that
useful accomplishment, I dared not
venture beyond mv depth. 1 was get
ting deadly cold, when a bright idea oc
curred: I would let mv hat lloat down
I the river; perhaps the bull would follow
it! Drawing a deep breath, 1 bent down
till the water reached the rim of mv
hat, which was a felt one. Keeping it
on with my hands, I moved slowly
down the stream a little, then bending
still lower, let theeurn lit lloat it gently
away. 1 remained under till 1 felt
l acute agony front the want of
j breath. Not venturing yet to raise
i my head, I bent backwards so as
! to bring my profile on a level
with the surface, in order that I
might breathe without being seen.
Alter what I fancied a long time,
I raised my head cautiously, and looked
to see where my terrible enemy was.
My ruse had succeeded: he was follow
ing the hat at a considerable distance
down stream. Fearful yet to venture
out, 1 waited till he disappeared round
a bend of the river, when, with feelings
of thankfulness 1 cannot express, 1
waded ashore. 1 was deadly cold: m v
teeth were clenched, and 1 shivered
violently. I could scarcely walk, owing
to the benumbed state of my limbs:
hut, pulling myself together, I moved
in the direction of the cottage. On the
way, I met a number of men looking
for the truant bull. They were sur
| prised to find me without my hat and
i dripping with wet. Having acquainted
them shortly with my adventure, they
continued their pursuit. I heard after
wards that considerable difficulty was
I experienced in capturing the brute.
Sly unusual appearance naturally
caused Mrs, (irant some surprise: and
when I explained the cause of it, she
was thankful 1 had escaped a horrible
, death. After having changed my
clothes, 1 felt little the worse for mv
long immersion, and w as able to w el
come my cousin home in the afternoon.
As the penalty of his escapade, the
bull was consigned to “durance vile1'
for some time, with the view of im
proving his manners in the futitrd; but,
perhaps, my manner of outwitting an
adversary so dangerous as a thorough
ly roused bull may be of service to
others on a similar emergency.— Claim
bers' Journal.
--^ --
A Central African Village.
j -
One fine large village, a long day f
i march beyond the InkisS', gives a good
idea of Central African life. There is a
1 general aspect of prosperity, and the
people are unusually sportivoaml merry
] among themselves. Children, pretty
little black children, were playing to
gether and making mud ‘pies: one
l Afrieanette, looking on. carried a baby
| as big as herself. A lien and chickens,
j with that steadfast obstinacy which is so
! characteristic of fowls, would insist on
I retiring for the night in the house
which had been assigned me as my
lodging; so two capable little boys
caught the ten chickens tenderly and
! conveyed them to a place of safety, the
j old hen, perforce, clucking and protest
i ing behind. An immense quantity of
pumpkins, with the ripe fruit and the
great yellow blossom growing on the
same plant, and the waving fields oi
manioc which I saw in the bright morn
ing light, lent an air of prosperity and
plenty to the tidy groups of houses. In
this village, in front of many of the
habitations, lay huge logs of wood,
roughly trimmed tree-trunks. At one
end they exhibited but little handling
from the operator, but at the other they
terminated in a rudely carved and
painted head, executed with little
finish indeed, yet the few strokes
that wrought the semblance to
humanity had been given with a
certain decision and skill. There was,
in fact, a good deal of character and
expression in this sketched-out face,
which, besides, bore much resemblance
to the prevailing type of man in that
neighborhood. Whether these logs, of
which many were lying prone before
the cottage* doors, were house-idols in
disgrace, or merely ornamental settles,
I could not ascertain; hut, w hen I men
tioned the word for “ idol," anil point
ed toward them, the men and women
gathered round and laughed con
temptuously. 1 might mention (lint the
natives here call themselves *• Wam
buno.” The plural prefix “wa ’ again
replaces the more classical “ba." Be
yond this village all was magnificent,
grandiose forest. The path goes down,
down, down into its depths, and the
tree-tops shut out the sky. The long,
straight llianas depending from the
branches appear like plumb-lines and
airy scaffolding sketching out a sort of
fantastic architecture. Large jessa
mine flowers shine forth like stars in
the gloomy depths of foliage, and down
at the bottom of the deep ravine a
brown stream catches a few glints of
green light as it hurries along.
We stop at the village of Ngoma
(“Ngoma” means “drum;" as you
will have noticed, it is often applied to
a sounding fall of water) on the even
ing of the fourth day after leaving
Lutete. Hero an old fetish man and
some young disciples were performing
a curious sort of dance, in whicli they
hopped like frogs, and squatted on
their heels, waving their hands down
ward from the heavens. I was told
they were calling down the rain.
Others, more indolent, were reclining
in different postures, having their hair
combed and dressed by women.—Cor.
London Telegraph.
-—Mr. Henry A. Sprague, a close ob
server in the boundless held of natural
history, writes to the Mirror and Farm
er against red squirrels, which lie ac
cuses of not only preying on fruit, but,
what is worse, fighting with birds for
the contents of their nests.
Robbing un Eagle’s Eyrie.
Sea eagles were formcly common in !
Shot land, but through trapping and
shooting these noble birds are now
nearly extinct on these northern isles. !
Within tlie last three years a pair lias !
established an eyrie in the cleft of a j
great sandstone sea cl iff, known as the !
Hard of Bressay. forming the south- 1
most point of the island of Bressay. the
island east of the n a nland which land
locks Lerwick Harbor. On the east ,
side the cliffs rise si eer out of the sea !
to a height of four hundred or live hun
dred feet. The depredations of the
eagles on the farms upon Bressay and
the adjacent mainland this year have !
been extensive. The hungry eaglets
required to lie fed, and almost daily
lambs were missed from the fields. To
put a stop to tics plundering a project
was formed to rob the nest, and a dar
ing young cragsman a leader in ha/.- i
anions adventures undertook to do >o
upon the first convenient opportunity.
The risk was great, for, besides the
peril of the ties cut and the ascent.
there was a chance <it alight With the
parent birds. The eyrie could only he
seen hy the aid of a glass front a cliff on
tiie north side A e msidernble way
down the cliff'is a large protruding boss
-something in the shape of an oriel
wind iw, with a great eicfl in the middle
of it. In the cleft the nest was
huilt. The exact distance of the
nest down the cliff' was first as
certained. Hy means of a reel of
thread, with a small weight at the end, 1
the measurement was found tube lifteen
fathom-, or about ninety feet. With
two assistants the cragsman very early
one morning shortly afterwards crossed
the Sound of Bress iv in a boat. The
top of tiie ••B ird" was attained about
t liree'o’clock. A stout oaken stake having
been driven firmly into the ground,
through an “eye"’ at the top of it, one
end of a strong Manilla two-incli rope
was passed. The young climber (says
the account in the Srotuman, from
which this narrative is taken) made this
end secure round the body, while his
assist ants grasped the rope on the other
side of the "eye.” He bail taken off
all superfluous clothing, and wore a
pair of thin goloshes. In a belt round
iiis waist lie had a six-ehambered revol
ver. Over his shoulder was slung his
lisliing-basket. Going over the bnnkof
tiie cliff' he partially climbed down, so
as to take the strain as much as possi
ble o l' the rope. When he got to the
“pond.” as the place where the eyrie is
built is locally known, he found' that
fortune had favored him in this—that
neither of the old birds were at home:
but at the same time he found that it
would he a difficult matter to get at the
nest. Immediately above the “pond"
was a great ledge of rock which com
pletely overhung the eyrie; so that tho
cragsman, suspended in the air
cm tiie same level as the
nest, found himself still t 'n
or twelve feet from it. He at once sig
naled to those above to be hauled up to
this ledge: and, that having been done,
he cautiously climbed down its face,
which had a sharp inward slope, until
he got upon the same run of strata as
that upon which the nest was built. By
following an open seam just wide
enough to admit his lingers he managed
at last to scramble into the ‘•pond,”
where probably human foot had never
hern set before. In the rocky changer
in which he now found himself he could
hardly stand upright; he therefore went
round on his knees to the back of the
nest. There were two pretty eaglets in
the cvrio: and when they saw the
strange intruder they buried their heads
below the woolly lining of the nest, anil
remained perfectly still. On lifting the
eaglets out of the nest, though only a
fori night old, they wen; so large and
well grown that only one would go into
the lishing-basket. The cragsman was
considering how he could get the other
to the top of the eliil', w hen a warning
! shout from above told him that one of
I the old birds was approaching. It was
the female bird, which apparently was
determined to show tight in defense of
her young. She came through the air
straight for the eyrie, like a 41 flash
| of lightning;” and the cragsman had
| barely time to throw himself on
| his back into the deepest recess of
I the "pond,” and to draw his revolv
j er, when the infuriated eagle was
upon him. She made one tremendous
j and unsuccessful swoop at him with
talons and beak, and simultaneously he
, pulled the trigger of his revolver. The
[ weapon, however, missed lire. The
! eagle hovered outside for a moment be
I fore renewing the attack; but a shot
from tbt‘ revolver the rcjKirt of which
i reverberated among the rocks—effectu
I ally Sr tiled it to a distance of about two
hundred yards, where it continued to
circle in the air—yelping like a dog. It
was by and by joined by the male bird;
but neither of the eagles again showed
light. The cragsman, having deposited
one eaglet in his lishing-basket, took the
other under bis left arm, and, having
j given the signal to his companions,
! swung himself out of the "pond.” and
was safely hauled up—his perilous vent
j lire successfully accomplished. Both
I of the eagles are still alive, and appear
! to be thriving well in captivity. They
are fed three times a day on tlesh and
tish, and on this diet are coming into
very beautiful plumage. Since the
evrie was robbed it may be mentioned
that the old eaglets have on more than
one occasion been seen hovering over
the town of Lerwick. This is the first
time for twenty years that eagles have
been captured alive in Shetland.—Fall
Mall Gazelle.
The Old Folks.
'Most everybody is dead. That is, all
the old folks. There are mighty few
left of the old stock that used to move
around so lively and take the lead in
business and public affairs. Some of us
are getting lonesome now. The ranks
keep filling up, but we don't know the
new recruits. Old Father Time is a
conscript officer, and he won’t take any
substitute nor give anybody a bomb
proof place. There are no quarter
masters nor commissaries nor potash
getters in this war, but it is fight, fight,
tight all the time. Sooner or later all
of us have got to go. We can’t desert,
nor dodge, nor play sick, nor shoot a
finger on', and there are no furloughs
and no pensions and no discharge.
There is not even a promotion for good
conduct or noble daring. There is
nothing but to do and die. Well, it's
all right. I know’, or it wouldn't havo
been so. but it grieves me to hear the
bell tolling all about and to see the old
stock passing away. Thirty-two years
ago I moved to Home, an<l it was a right
smart town of three thousand people.
They are not there now. What are left
I can count on my lingers, hardly a
dozen of the old settlers, and they move
about very slow. Old Mother \\ hite
died the other day. The oldest of them
all. She was always going about doing
good or trying to. She outlived her
old "maun.” the Scotchman, and
she outlived her children, but
she never surrendered to grief or
trouble. These old Scotch people have
habits and principles like east-iron.
They never change. The old “matin,”
as we called him, was always merry,
and always at work making harness,
and he died in harness, lie had his
time to eat. and to sleep, and to pray,
and to sing, and to read the Bible, and
his time to work, and he never neglect
ed t he regular programme. Old maun
White couldn't sing, hut he thought he
could, and he considered it as much a
duty as to pray, lie was a heavy man,
hut lie waddled up the hill to the meet
ing-housc wiui alacrity, amt toon ms
sent like lie meant business, ami lie did
mean business. He said amen and
amen all through the preacher's priuer,
and then he opened h;s hynin-book with
eagerness and stood up in front of the
choir and tang from away down, lie
tried to follow, but was sure to get a
little ahead, for he en joyed it and want
ed to do nnfrethan his share. The choir
did their best to smother him, but they
couldn't. His bellows was strong and
blew loud. His kind of singing wotildn t
have been tolerated from any other
man, for he was always a little tip or a
' little down, and lie tapered off. His
voice was a good deal below bass, and
came up like there was a cog-wheel in
his throat. Hut everybody that knew
the old man enjoyed his singing, for it
seemed to do him so much good, and at
times when the words were very
lender, the old man would say
“Amen” at the end of the stanza. I
remember that one time when Henry
Hart fell and (leorge Stovall were lead
ing nmsie, the old man turned two
halves in his hymn-book and got from
long into short meter, and tin* words
didn’t lit the music. There wasn't
enough of them, and the old maun
shook his head and gave a grunt and
filled out with a couple of aniens, lie
heard a titter behind him, and, looking
round, muttered audibly: “lhar s sum
thin’ wrong about here.” We joked
him about it next day, and lie, laughed
as he said: “All, well, you know that
David said sing unto the Lord a new
i song, and I deed it. Yes, 1 deed it. ’
I wonder how many children old .Moth
er White has taught in Sunday-school, j
She has had a class of little ones ever j
! since I knew her, and she taught them j
all the same thing, to love God and tell
the truth and do right. 1 don’t think
she ever improved on that. She didn t
know anything about the science of re
ligion or the evidences of Christianity,
and she didn’t want to know. It. was
enough for her that she loved her
Maker and loved everybody, and her
Maker loved her. Her faith was iron*
i clad: sin- lived in it and died in it. If 1
| could trade in chances for Heaven 1
would be willing to trade for hers. She
is there, I reckon, and some of the chil
dren she taught are there, too, and they
cave the old lady a welcome that was
Heaven enough for her.—"Hill Arp," in
Atlanta Constitution.
A Rocky Mountain Glacier.
To Prof, ("anby, a member of Pum
pelly’s Northern Transcontinental Sur
voy party, wc are indebted for the fol
lowing account of the discovery of a
i glacier by the party, and a description
of the country around the Upper Marias
Pass, between the headwaters of the
Flathead River, west of the Rocky
Mountain range, and Cut Hank Creek,
east of the same. The locality is about
' one hundred anil fifty miles north of
, Missoula.
Prof. Canity says that on the 1st ot
August the party) after having left the
Upper Flathead River (about eighty
miles above the lake), entered the
gorge that leads up the mountain to the
Pass. This is walled in by steep mount
ains, which are crowned by rugged
precipices thousands of feet in height,
sometimes terminating in knife-like
: edges, and sometimes running up in
to sharp, rugged cones, which make
the sky lines of the mountains most va
J ried and picturesque.
At the summit of the Pass three main
amphitheaters come together. They are
nearly horse-shoe in shape. From the
Pass there are in full view ten or twelve
high peaks, often running up into regu
lar, sharp rocky cones.
Some ten or fifteen miles away, look
ing to the westward, a great mass of
snow-covered mountains were in view,
and below these summits was seen a
true glacier, having a frontage of at
least a mile, and in some places a face
j estimated at 5(K) feet in height. From
underneath this glacier flows a stream
of milky-colored glacier water.
Prof.' Pumpelly, with the Indian
1 guide, penetrated the amphitheater in
which this glacier lies, and counted
twenty-two cascades over five hundred
feet in height, besides seeing many
smaller ones. The sides of the mount
ains which surround this amphitheater
are covered with deep bodies of snow,
which are the sources of the many
streams flowing into the valleys below.
There was but little snow on the Pass,
and with care it was not difficult to
cross, in descending tho eastern side
, of the mountains the gorge presents
I some remarkably lofty and stupendous
precipices. Those gentlemen of the
party who had visited the Yosemite Val
I ley considered the scenery of Marias
Pass to be of a more varied character
and grander in every respect.
The summit of the Pass was found to
be seven thousand eight hundred feet
above the sea level. We shall wait with
much interest for a more thorough and
complete survey of this new ancl won
derful mountain district of Montana. —
Helena (Mont.) Independent.
- ♦♦
—Edison, who ought to know, says:
“It requires as much ingenuity to make
money out of an invention as to make
the invention.”
—
PERSONAL AND LITERARY.
—Mrs. H. B. Stowe is about to begin
* new story, which will Iks entitled
'‘Orange Blossoms.”
—A daughter of General Winfield
Scott is the wife of a Virginia gentle
man named Winfield Scott.
—The Public Library of Boston con
tains 422,116 bound volumes. It stands
as No. 10 of the great libraries of the
world.
—Henry Villard's true name is Hein
rich Hilgard. He assumed “Villard”
as a non do plume when he was writing
Western letters to a New York paper.
—The Buffalo newspaper man who
married the widow of millionaire
Fargo, the express company magnate,
lias started a morning paper.—linj/a'o
Express.
Henry flay Thurston, of Mount
Pleasant, Tex., the tallest man in
America, is seven feet seven and nne
half inches high, lifty-three years of
age. and weighs 280 pounds.
ltaceo Mina, an Italian author, who
lias dedicated a book to Postmaster
General Gresham, now asks that official
to send him enough money to cover the
expense of printing the first edition.
Bronson Howard, the dramatist,
who is living on royalties frVmi his plays,
in England, is the possessor of a double
tricycle on which lie and his wife, and
and whatever supplies they feel like
carrying, make twenty-mile and tliirty
■nile trips about the country.
— Mrs. Harriet Beecher .Stowe says
that the novels of the day lack romantic
interest. Unman passion has come to
be synonymous with a mawkish hysteria,
to be photographed without grace, and
by what strikes her as a dry process,
which takes the victim in ihu middle of
an emotion, as a horse is caught with
ill his feet in the air.—N. P. Graphic.
For some time Miss Louisa M. Al
cott lias been at work upon a new story
for hoys and girls. It is a sequel to
“ Little Men,” and is to be called “Joe’s
Boys, and How They Turned Out.”
Miss Alcott hoped to have the book fin
ished for the fall, but owing to the ill
ness of her father she has been obliged
to put off’its completion indefinitely.—
Host'on Host.
Will Carleton. the popular verse
writer, is thus described by a reporter
in Indianapolis, where he lias been vis
iting: “He is nearly six feet tall, of
slender build, with a bright, rather
youthful face, blue eyes, aquiline nose
and short whiskers, which cover only
his chin. His hair, which is slightly
tinged with gray, is combed smoothly
bark, and this, combined with the some
what clerical cut of his clothes, gives
him rather the appearance of a well-to
do young minister on a vacation.”
One of the most interesting subjects
discussed by the American Library As
sociation at Buffalo was the practice of
changing the original title of a book, or
of giving a book more than one title.
Sometimes the change is effected by
fraud, often by thoughtlessness, but in
either case it causes annoyance. As
examples, John llabberton’s “Just One
Hay,” became, with a change of pub
lishers, “Mrs. Mayhurn’s Twins: with
Her '1'rials in the Morning, Afternoon
and Evening of Just One Hay.” Mrs.
Fethcrstonhaugh's story, “Kilcorran,”
is enlarged to “Lil, Fair, Fair, with
Golden Flair; or, Kilcorran.”
HUMOROUS.
—An earthquake usually causes an
active movement in real estate.—Som
•rrille Journal.
Someone who believes that "brevity
is the soul of wit” writes: “Don’t eat
(J cumbers. They’ll \V up.”
—Ailele Yes, your poem, “He loves
me very dearly,” is a remarkable pro
duction; but if you want those pleasant
relations to continue, don’t let him see
it. As for the copy sent hither, it will
be carefully placed in a little basket,
not necessary for publication, but as a
guarantee of good faith. Exchange.
— “ I feel so worried about Charles?”
sighed Mrs. Wildhusband. "It’s get
ting late sure enough,” said sister Kate,
looking at the clock: “ but I guess noth
ing unusual has happened.” That is
what frets me," replied Mrs. Wild
husband, “ I am afraid something usnal
has happened to Charles.” — Detroit
Vost.
Last week the Governor of Rhode
Island packed his State in a hand bag
and took it down to Cape May for a
holiday. This was kind of the Gover
nor, and makes the Governor of Texas
hide his diminished head when he con
trasts the generous action with his own
selfishness. Catch him taking his State
anywhere. Bless you, it’s as much as
he can do to keep it at home.—Burling
ton Hawkeye.
Ingratiating photographer (after
carefully posing little Violo): “And
now you are going to be a very good
little'girl. and sit as still as a mouse for
a few. minutes. Violo (who, though
but a mite, has a mighty will of her
own, quickly imposing and assuming a
most determined expression): “ O, in
deed, Mr. Man! That’s all you know
about it! I’m going to be as naughty as
possible!”- A. ¥. Herahl.
—Ctesar’s mistake: “Boss, will you
tell me how to make root beer?” asked
a colored man of a clerk in a drug
store, a day or two agew “Yes, I wilR
Take a hickory stick, three gallons of
water, an old hat, a quart of molasses,
a paper of tacks and a pound of cayenne
pepper, and boil and skim and set in a
cool place.” “Say dat again, boss, so
I can disremember.” The clerk re
peated his directions and the customer
brought his fist down on the counter
with the exclamation: “I sees where I
spiled my hnll batch! I left out de
tacks!”—"Boston Gazette.
—Honors were easy: A German citi
zen. approaching the window, re
uuestetf that a check payable to the or
der of Schweitzercase be cashed. “Ja,
dot’s me,” he nodded reassuringly, in
answer to the teller’s look of inquiry.
“But I don’t know that you are Mr,
Schweitzercase. You must get your
self identified,” said the teller. “How
vass dotP” asked tfle German citizen,
with a puzzled look. “You must get
some one to identify you,” repeated the
bank officer. “Ah, Ja!” cned John,
much relieved; “dot’s all right. I
don’d know you neider.”—Buffalo Com
mercial,
Temperance.
VETEH M'UlllDE AM) ms TEH- j
JilUl.E HIDE.
Have yoti heard of the ride of old Peter Me- !
Bride.
Of that midsummer night full of horror* for
him.
Of the Iri'/ht that he had—bow he thought
that he died.
How tt ev found him at morn bruised in
I o iy ini'I limb/
1 will teli you the talc, for It shows what may
roii.e
To a man when he foolishly medo.ua with rum.
A merry old toper was Peter Mcltridei
He was fond of his glass u« a school Iw>y of
jam.
And tippling to him was a matter of pride.
lie rode every night for hi* regular dram
To the village ho i 1, oa his old chestnut mare—
He loved the black bottle that greeted him
there.
But O. what a foe was that bottle to him!
It shattered Ids nerves aim it reddened his t
nose;
Hin round cheeks grew hollow, his eyesight
grew dm;
His form became feeble; the tracks of the
crows
Began t*» appear on his temples; yet more ,
He added each night to the nimseiier's *tore.
What a price do men pay for the pleasures of
life.
In manhood, in usefulness, wisdom and
wealth I
Hum conquers, it seldom is crushed in the
strife.
It ruin* ambit.on, it dissipates health —
Yet thousands are waiting and losing their ;
all.
And millions unborn in the battle will tall.
One night to the tavern came Peter McBride;
He tied his thin steed to tin* sign-post near
by;
He entered the taproom, he sat down Iieside
The rickety bar with a wearisome sigh.
For he felt what a slave he had weakly !»e
come
In the merciless, pitiless Iwjndage of rum.
So he called for a drink and he guzzled It
down. I
To drown his dull care and to make him feel
gay.
He drank and he drank till the lamplight
looked brown.
Till the tavern turned round in a mystical
way!
Hcdranktill his stomach was tortured with
pain.
Till horrible phantoms distracted his brain.
But, see! from a corner there cautiously
peeps
A little red serm-ftt: how happened it there?
Its eyes gleam like diamonds, it wriggles, il 1
creeps.
It coils itself quietly under his chair
He leaps from his seat with a how l of dismay.
The little red serpent has vanished away.
Look! look! from the cracks in the ceiling
and wall.
From the barrels and kegs, from the Iwjttles
and jugs.
How the snakes, how the worms and the green
lizards crawl!
How they twist, how they squirm in the
glasses and mugs;
How they creep o’er the counter and in at the
door;
How they wriggle and writhe, as they fall on
the floor!
They climb up his limbs, and they twine on
his wrists:
He drops his old bottle! He throws off his
coat.
They creep on liis body! He wiggles, he
twists.
He strugglesto tear their cold coils from
his throat.
He stamps on the floor and he clutches the
air.
. Then rushes in rage for his old chestnut
^ mare!
Hut the boys of the village, who longed for a
row,
Loosed his neighing old beast from the sign
post and tied
In her place, with a bed-cord, a big brindlo
cow,
All saddled, all bridled, and ready to ride.
When ru-died from the tavern, w ith snakes in
his track.
Old Peter, who pounced with a yell on her
back.
The cord snapped in twain, and away in af
fright.
With the stars overhead dimly lighting the
road.
Passed Peter McBride in a pitiful plight
In the tracks of nis steed toward his distant
abode.
The dogs fiercely barked, and the cocks loud
ly crew, •
As the bellowing cow by the farm houses flew.
The villagers leaped in alarm from their beds.
They threw up their windows, in wonder
they gazeu.
And peered through the darkness, with un
covered heads:
Such a row in that region had never been
raised;
While swift us the wings of the wind o’er the
tide
In a terrible tempest rode Peter McBride!
He saw the strange horns of the beast that he
strode;
The four cloven hoofs of the fleet footed
thing.
With the horrible thought, twas the devil he
rode!
He saw its stiff tail, like n snake on the wing!
The air all around Imd a sulphurous smell!
He lost his firm grip on the saddle and fell.
Friends found him and carried him over the
hills.
To his desolate home, w herf* they put him to
bed;
They bled him, they fed him with camomile
pills;
They plastered his chest and they poulticed
ins head.
And w hen he recovered, he solemnly swore
To tipple and toy with the devil no more.
Are you wasting the years of your manhood
away?
Is the demon of drunkenness dragging you
down?
Are you rushing and hasting to early decay.
The byword and sport of the boys of the
town?
Some dragon may carry you off in your pride.
With snakes at 3 our heels like old Peter Me
lt rifle.
—Uwjcne J. Hall* in Chicago Inter Ocean*
DRINK AND CRIME.
The following facts, gleaned from
the various reports at hand, tell their
own story without need of addition or
comment:
In 18X1 there were 69,631 criminals
arrested, of whom 31,037 were males;
and lx,374 were females. Of the males,
13,336 were arrested for intoxication,
and au additional 3,439 for being drunk
and disorderly. Of the females, 6,831
were arrested for intoxication, and an
additional 2.823 for being drunk and
disorderly, making the total number of
inebriates arrested 28.669, which is
more than two-tifths the >\ hole number
of arrests.
Besides the number arrested, there
were 120,683 indigent persons lodged in
the station-houses; more than 83 per
cent, of whom were compelled to seek
lodgings there bv reason, directly or in
directly, of the liquor-traffic. The
males thus seeking lodgings numbered
37,903; the females. 62,778. This is a
number ffipial to one-twelfth the entire
population of the city.
The cost of maintaining the police
force for the purpose of attempting to
“cure ” what should be “prevented”
was *280,033.
The cost of the various courts made
necessary by reason of the traffic in
liquor, in New York City alone, reached
the sum of *2,000,000.
The expenditure of the Department
of Public Charities aud Correction for
1879 amounted to *1,262,618, over nine
ty per cent, of which expense was made
peoessary by reason of the traffic in
liquors.
We might go on indefinitely, "how
Ing iif
pend turcs of the people’s money, for
that which might he dispensed with,
were it not for the everywhere presence
of the demon—drink.
The statistics of crime only show
what is forced upon the surface. Po
licemen avoid making arrests as much
as they can. and convictions arc diffi
cult. as witnesses will not testify lest
the} !)'• locked tip in the House of De
tention, while the offender is released
on hail.
In New York, oftentimes, the ac
cuser and witness receive more annoy
ance and sutlering than do the offend
ers. though they may at last be con
victed.
There are 8.034 whisky-shops in New
York City, the keepers of which have
certified that they are of good, moral
character. Of these. 2.004 have served
their time in various State prisons; 2.
6‘i.i have liccn confined in county prisons;
1,759 have been “cooled ofl"in the sta
tion houses; leaving l.filfi of Hie num
ber who have thus far been able to
elude the vigilance of the police.
The liquor shops of New York City
if placed side by side, would complete
ly line both sides of a street extending
from the battery to King’s bridge.
! There are twenty-nine places where
liquors are retailed. not including drug
stores, on five consecutive blocks in
the best portion of Sixth avenue; and
Sixth avenue has fewer liquor stores
i than any business avenue in New York
< 'ity.
Of 32.837 criminals in CJermany, in
18X1, 43.9 per cent, of tlie males, and
IS. 1 per cent, of the females, committed
their offense while in a state of alco
holism.
In Id assachusetts, from official re
ports, it js shown 1bat there is a de
crease of 37 per cent, in the number of
eases of drunkenness where prohibition
is now the rule, an increase of fit per
cent, in the number of eases of crime,
! and 110 per cent, in the number of eases
of intoxication, where liquor is allowed
to be sold.
Tli.. I'nitfil f'ommisiiinnpr fur
1 he I nitcil States ( ommis«ioner for
Education, in his report says ho to 90
per cent, of criminals connect tlioir
course of crime with intemperance.
Of the U.31.5 inmates of the Massa
chusetts Sta’e prisons, 12.396, or Hiper
; cent., are reported to have been intein
I perate.
in the New Hampshire State prisons
6.5 out of 91 inmates admit themselves
I to have been intemperate.
Of the criminals confined in the State,
county and municipal prisons in Con
necticut. more than 90 percent, admit
] to the habit of drinking.
Ninetv-three per cent, of those con
fined in the Deer Island House of In
dustry are confined for crimes connect
I ed with liquor.
In Philadelphia, last year, thirty-four
murders were each traceable to mteni
i peranee. and twenty-one assaults with
intent to kill proceeded from the same
cause.
Of over 38,000 persons arrested in
Philadelphia la-t year, 7;5 per cent,
were caused by intemperance; of 1H.306
per-ons committed to city prisons, more
than two thirds were the consequence
of intemperance.
In the children’s hospital in New
York City there were committed, in
1 s.sp. lHo for dnmkenuess, who took
with them their nur-ing infants.
Within the last twenty years onr
teachers have increased from 2.5 to 30
per cent, and pupils attending school,
j more than .50 per cent., yet crime has
I increased 60 per cent., about keeping
j pace with the increase of the traffic in
j liquors.
Judge Noah Davis, of New York,
states, that in an experience of twenty
! five years on the bench, he has found
I three-fifths of all cases of violence to he
directly traceable to strong drink.
Judge Allison says: “ In onr criminal
courts, we can trace four-fifths of the
crimes that are committed, to the influ
1 enee of rum.” There is not one case in
! twenty where a man is tried for his life
; in which rum is not the direct or indi
te t cause of the murder.—Mrs. Eliza
beth Thompson, in National View.
Temperance Items.
Beer ani> Suicide.—It is said that
more beer is drank per capita in Mil
waukee than in any other city, and that
the suicide rate there is double that of
any other city.
Poisoned.—A San Antonio dispatch
makes known the sort of whisky used
I in that place when it reports the follow
ing; Three barkeepers were poisoned
j on the hands in handling ice and lemon
' in making mixed drinks.
The Pause in China.—But a few
years ago there was no Temperance
organization in China. Now a Tem
perance hotel is advertized in Hong
Kong, and at Shanghai there is a Lodge
of Good Templars and a g«x>d able
Temperance paper published weekly,
| called the Temperance Union.
I A Good Work.—Lawyer Barney has
I accepted a retainer from a New Bed
ford Total Abstinence Society, and has
promised to close every illegal groggery
in the city within six months. He be
gan by causing the arrest of an active
member of his own church for renting a
building to an unlicensed dealer.
Saloon Drunkenness.—An orator
in Iowa claims that “ prohibiting the
saloons only creates drunkenness iu the
homes.” vThis is untrue. While a
! few besotted individuals would guzzle
1 at home, not one man in a hundred
araongdrinkingmen would drinkhimself
drunk in the presence of his wife and
children.—Chirngo Inter Ocean.
A Fireman’s Picnic Without
Liquor.—It is said by a prominent citi
zen of a populous town iu Oregon that
two days’ after Miss Willard’s visit
there and address in the City Hall, a
large Fireman's Picnic was held, when,
for the first time in history, liquor was
conspicuous by its absence. People are
very reach-able after all.—Union
Signal.
Dr. Macon, of the Inebriates Home,
Fort Hamilton, L. I , has looked into
the family history of one hundred and
sixty-one patients there. He learned
that ninety-eight of the number had
drunken fathers: six, drunken mothers,
andjsixteen, grandparents and other near
kindred who were intemperate. Fifteen
were of families in which insanity ex
isted. sometimes along with inebriety.
—Imliatmpoli* Journou.