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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. jht gwoMiavtn gEradrr. UY B. T. IIOBBS. Term*. in Advancei „ .*3 OO One year -;. . 1 OO pi i months. advertisements. v- , tifinsient advertisements,ten cent* a Ilia for insertion; tivo cents a line for JlJJh subsequent insertion. Txieal Notices ten eenwaUne for each inser tion. (The iSroohhavctt grafter. STAMOIMO ADVKItTIRKMKNTS. *r»<r. rMo. * wm 0 M<«* l tk*£ one inch.f 2In $ fi M $10 00 $ I* 00 Two Inches.( 6 00 II 60 17 00 30 60 Three, inches. 7 50 17 50 $'• 00 35 00 Pour inch#?*... ..1 !• ,in 7i riO M W 4/1 00 Five Inches.1 12 00 27 SO 45 00 5ft 00 81* Inches.! 15 on so on 5ft on; fin oo Marriage and death notices not exceeding six lines, published free. AIT over «ix lines will he charged for at regular advertising rates. 0jf Ml advertisements doe when inserted, unless otherwise agreed upon..** 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.