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VOLUME VI.
NEWARK, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, DECEMBER 8. 1883.
NUMBER 51.
FIRST-CLASS GOODS
A SPECIALTY,
AT THE
O-IxA-SS IFIROINT.
Sugar, Coffee, Tea, Starch, Canned
Goods, Foreign & Domestio Fruits.
Largest Btock anti Flout Assortment of
China, Glass and Queeusware
IN TOWN.
AGENT FOR THE CELERRATED
MILWAUKEE LAGER BEER,
In boulet,
Pure Wines, Brandies, Whiskies, Rio
Maracaibo and Java Coffees,
Choice Quality, Freth Roasted Every week.
per doren.
THE LOWEST CASH PRICES.
W. JP. Q-JEHJFJPTTZÎ,
Main Street, Newark, DeJ
A. J. LILXiEY,
Manufacturer of all kinds of
RAG CARPET
Next to Lutton's Bliope,
NEWARK, DELAWARE,
nr ALL WORK G UARANTRSD.
PURE TD RTTGtS,
gf MEDICINES,
CHEMICALS,
PATENT MEDICINE8,
80 A PS, BRUSHES,
PERFUMERY,
SPONGES, ETC
A.T JAY'S
DRUG AND CHEMICAL STORE,
MAIN STREET
Newark, Del., Near the P. O.
ascription« Carefully Com
pounded at all hours, Day or Night«
THE
7
BUSINESS COLLEGE,
108 SOUTH TENTH ST., PHILADELPHIA
Firet class facilities f>
Busmens E«lue;
in 36 colleges.
imparting a
lion. l Vit i tirâtes good
Ute extensive Practical
t is fui in lied with a Commis
•, Freight <»ffloe. Importing
i ml »complete Bunk,
i hi, with all the po
>. Daily con espcn
vicUnis between the stu
Ileges. Sepeiate
v.icuti n. Students can
f always wel
1 culls solicited
wishing thorough train
I )cpai illu
sion ih
aud Jobbing llonre.
each in «ctivo opérai
sitions filled b.v pupi
tie noe
den i h of our different
iuat ruction. I s -
Vis
enter at any time,
come. ( oiTartpoiitletice
from young
ing in mercantile affaire and correct but
ine* $ habit*. Illustrated Circulars free
NOW IS THE TIME TO GET A
GOOD STOVE
i
- ii »! 8
NATHAN ZIGLER,
MAIN ST., NEWARK, DEL.
9ÊST QUALITY TIN ROOFING
WH. H, FISHER,
PAINTER.
Having recently opened the shop
opposite Wm. Russell's store, I am
prepared to do any kiud of work ia
my line, such as
REPAIRING
AND
VARNISHING FURNITURE.
House Painting.
AND
oiXi nisrxsxîiasro.
CHAIRS RFC AXED.
$100.00 A WEEK !
We can guarantee the above amount
to good, active, energetio
AGENTS !
Ladies as well as gentlemen, make a
success in the bu-inest. Very little
capital required. We have household
articles
salable as flour.
It »oils Itself!
It is used every day in the family. You
do not need to explain its merits. There
is a rich harvest for ail who embrace
tills golden opportunity. It costs you
only
ness is. Buy a postal card and write
will send you our pros
cent to learn what your busi
to us and
pectus aud full particulars
FREE !
And we know you will derive more
good »ban you have any idea of. Our
reputation
pany is such that we can not afford to
on a postal and
plainly and receive
a manufacturing com
deceive. Write to
give your addr
lull particulars.
Buckeye M'F'G Co.,
Marion, Olilo.
ELECTRICITY.— Of til the known Electro-Gil
Ttolc AppIltiH ea at tho preaent day 1| Is now
ceded br the M'jdlcal Fraternity and Electrlctau'
7. IhM the American Oalvanlo Co.'a How
8ntai.u« are the boat, poaaeaalngintrlnalo Elec- .
I merlu, as one shield or appHuuce can be fit
f o«r. P &wad*ertia«ment ia aaothar mK!m
ot this paper.— Electric uuwm. |
Irl«J
led
A FANCY.
Sweet Summer went forth to the fields
entwined in her hair;
Her footsteps as light
As her glances were bright,
And all that she looked upon fair.
Grave Autumn, beholding tbe maid,
Grew cheery in chanting her channs;
They met, but alust
All her strength seemed to pass,
And she languished to death in his Arms!
Now sombre grew Autumn and
As he clung
Iheti Winter passed by,
And, with tear-stricken eye
Hid them both 'neath a
the maid in his
tie of
TBK A M, I I, OF
B CHAPFX,
I will tell the story
me by one who had often been a weD
come guest beneath the roof of Jean
(Plessis) Lamont.
During the early part of the reign of
Plessis was tried
it was told to
Louis Philippe, Je
at Chatillon, in the Department of the
Cote D'Or, for highway robbery, con
victed, and sentenced to death. At the
time of his trial the prison was under
going repairs, and what cells were fit for
use were so entirely tilled that the pre
fect was obliged to consign Plessis to an
old chapel of tbe Marinont Castle. On
the evening previous to the day appoint
ed for tne execution, our malefactor
was visited by the Abbe St. Augustine
Armond, who had come to pray and
exhort. The abbe was a good man; a
genial great-hearted, self-sacrificing
man, who was at all times ready to do
aud to suffer for his fellows. And this
tbe prisoner knew.
"Stop!" said Jean Plessis, when the
abbe bad begun an exhortation. "I must
ask you to listen for a little time to me.
Will you do so?"
The prisoner was earnest, aud appar
ently sincere. lie was a yonng, good
looking man; with a bright, keen eye,
and an intelligent face. The abbe bow
ed assent, and Jean Plessis resumed:
"Abbe, 1 have done many evil things;
and there are many evil things which 1
liave never done; I have never taken
money from the poor. I have never
brought shame where the flush of con
scious virtue might have been but for
me—never! Do you remember the poor
mender of roads whose wife you visited
n her last sickness? Did she not tell
you of the friend who liad given them
food when they were an hungered; and
who paid their miserable rent when
they were in danger of being turned out
of doors? It was Jean Plessis who did
tliut. But I ask no favor on that score,
Abte. I only mention it that you may
know 1 am not all evil—not all bad.
"Abbe St. Armond, I wish to reform.
I have seeii enough of suffering—enough
of the evils of sinning. I could not ask
to live, if 1 Intended to go on in my evil
course. But, could I be saved
would reform, and devote the rest of
my life to deeds of usefulness and good.
1 would, at least, work evil no more.
1 think, Abbe, I never was a liar.
1 was at my worst, I abominated
a liar. So, what I tell you now you can
depend upon as true.
"Now, Abbe Saint Armoiid, wiil you
go to your pillow to-morrow night, feel
ing that you have given poor Jean
Plessis up to his death? Will you live
all the rest of your life knowing that it
liad it had been once in your power to
save a poor fellow creature to a life ol
reformation and peace, and that you re
fused him your aid? Answer me."
The abbe knew not what to say. He
was lost iu astonish meut; aud lie finally
told the man that he must be more ex
plicit.
"Abbe, it is in your power to save my
life. I feel tliut the angels are calling
upon you to do so. Or, will not you be
the angel to set me free?"
Tbe abbe shook his head. He did
not understand yet. Then the prisoner
pointed to a small window, away up in
the gable; ana said he:
"Abbe, you
you were to stand up against that wall,
and suffer me to staud upon your shoul
ders, 1 could reach the crossbeam easily.
Once upon that, I could gain the ledge
above, and pass out through that win
dow. There is a large tree on the out
side, the branches of which brush
against the glass when tbe wind blows.
Do you understand me now?"
The good father uuderstood; but lie
was not convinced that it would be well
to do as tbe other wished him to do.
"I can say no more," the prisoner
murmured, with a mournful shako of
the head. "If you will not be the an
gel to help me—to save me—to give
back to virtue and honor an erring sou
of sorrow,—if you will not be that
angel, I have sued in vain?"
It was enough. The heart of the
good man was touched, and he yielded,
lie closed Iiis eyes, and stood up against
the wall ; and when he next opened them
he was alone. He and the candle were
the only things in the old chapel that
had life.
By and by the tailor came iu. and
found the abbe silting like one in a
trance. He went forward pud shook
man by the shoulder.
"Abbel Abbe! where is the prisoner?"
The abbe looked up, aud rubbed his
, 1
\V1
a strong man. If
•yea.
"Where is thef^irisonerV"
"Tell me rather," replied the abbe,
solemnly, "where is the angel? 1
heard the prisoner speak as with an
Angel. He called him an angel. My
eyes were closed. When t was permit
ted to open them I saw tho man going
ont through that window. All else
was as you see it now, save my conster
nation."
This same story the abbe told to the
prefect and to the officers of the court,
and it come to be a belief throughout
the Department of the Cote D'Or that
a miracle had been wrought in behalf
. . .. Q . . ,
of Jeail PleSSIS. lllC Abbe St. AmiOIld
.^d gone in to pray with him, aud while
| th« holy man was engaged in prayer an
angel entered the prison and bore the
malefactor away through a hole In the
roof. Naturally the abbe came in for a
large share of the credit and honor in
this wonderful affair, for it was gener
ally believed that his intercession had
caused the angelic visit.
After these years passed away. Louis
Philippe had been forced to flee from
his capital and from his kingdom; La
martine had been President of the
Grand Republic, and had passed from
power; and Louis Napoleon had been
elected President, and
thinking of being emperor, when, on a
cold, blustering winter's evening, the
Abbe Augustine St. Armond, now a
white-haired old man, found himself on
a strange road, upon the southern
boarder of the great Dournay Forest.
He had ret out from Dijon on a journey
that should have occupant a week—had
set out alone, on a good horse, not anti
cipating so severe a storm.
At length, fairly benumbed with cold,
and fearful of\the worst, he discovered,
through the thickly whirling snow, a
light directly ahead. He gave thanks
to God, and pushed on, and very soon
he came iuto the court of a large farm
house. the barns and numerous other
out-buildings of which he could plainly
distinguish. He liad strength enough
to slip from his saddle and kick with
his foot upon the door. His abrupt
summons was answered by a man, who
came with a lantern in his hand. The
ablie had started to tell his situation,
when the man laid a strong hand upon
his arm and pulled him into the liallL
"Tell your story, man, where there is
more of comfort than is to be found out
in the storm. Have you a horse?"
G pon receiving an affirmative answer,
the man gave the lantern to a stout
boy, and bade him go out and see that
the horse had comfortable quarters and
plenty of food.
Then the abbe was led to a large sit
ting room, where a bright faced, pretty
girl, of fifteen, or thereabouts, was set
ting out the supper-table. The mother
was in the kitchen, engaged in cooking
for the meal; while three children,
younger than the girl first mentioned,
were sitting near the fire, two of them
engaged in peeling chestnuts. The
guest saw all this before he had remov
ed his overcoat. He knew not why it
should be so, but he had a strange
sense of home-like feeling. It seemed
to him as though he had a particular
right to be here. Had the house been
his own, he could have not felt more
inclined than ho felt when he had com
pleted his swift survey of the comforta
ble and cheerful apartment.
And during tins brief space the host
had beeu as busily watchful as the
guest had been. The sacerdotal garb
had first attracted the farmer's notice,
and tiien lie looked at the aged face.
He looked, and a great light shone in
iiis eyes, and a glow of happiness over
spread his kindly face. He helped the
guest to remove his great-coat; then
caused him to sit in a chair, when he
went down upon his knees, and began
to pull off the wet boots, and chill,
damp stockings. Tiien he brought dry
stockings, and warm, soft slippers; and
very soon the abbe was as comfortable
as could lie.
"There, good father," the host said,
when lie had done all that he could
think of "what more can I do towards
your comfort before our poor supper is
ready?"
"Indeed, my son," the guest return
ed, deeply moved, "you have already
thought of more than I could have
asked for. Y ou have mode my body
comfortable; and you have warmed my
heart, which is better than all else."
The host bowed, but offered no fur
ther response; and after a little time
the guest went on:
"Your attention to my comfort, my
son, has more than gratified me it has
surprised me. 1 am am old man, as my
frosty blow must show; yet you are the
first person who ever knelt at my feet
to do mo service."
"Alii" said the host, with more feel
ing than the occasion would seem to
call for on his part, "we may some time
entertain an angel unawares. I have,
ere this, seen an angel in an abbe's
garb."
The abbe started. He looked ear
nestly into the mau's face, and the
truth burst upon him. It was the male
actor, whom, more than quarter of a
century before, he had helped to escape
from the little old chapel of the Mar
mont Castle. He was about to speak,
when the other placed his finger upon
iiis lips. Then he said, in a whisper:
"My wife, to whom 1 will shortly
introduce you, knows everything; but
not so my children."
The abbe understood, and was silent.
Shortly afterwards the wife—Madam
lAmont— entered. "I am Jean La
mont, " lie whispered and then:
"Jean, whom do you think the storm
lias sent to us?"
already
She
v the great tears starting from
his eyes and coursing down his cheeks;
and she knew before he had spoken
another word. Yet he went on:
"It Is—"
u The Abbe Saint Armondl ''she cried,
as he broke down.
"Yes," said the guest, "I am the
poor abbe."
She caught his hand, and pressed her
lips upon it. Theu, to her children,
who were looking on wonderingly, she
said:
"My children—once—a great many
years ago—when your father was in
mortal peril—when he wonld have been
a dead man before another sun had set,
liad it not beeu for the noble devotion
of one man of all the world—in that
supreme hour the
saved him—and this is the man! The
Abbe Saint Armondl Dowu on your
knee, my beloved, and bless himl"
And dowu they went; and while the
man came and
abbe wiped his streaming eyes, the bles
sings of pure hearts were poured out
upon him.
By the time the meal was ready all
had gained their composure; aud while
they eat the host told his simple story—
to'd it without referring to the old life
further than to speak of the one and
only time in the past when they had
met previously.
At that time he had been but five
aud-twenty years cf age; ha had never
known his parents. His mother had
died when he was
father—a soldier—was killed not long
afterwards in battle. He had been
taken by the authorities of the town
where his mother had died, "and under
their fostering care," he said, "I had
been reared, one might almost say,
until you met me; for the influence of
the teachings I received in childhood
made me what I was.
a
iu f ant, and his
"However, after I felt the angel of
that old chapel, I made my way to this
forest, and here let myself out to the
farmer who owned this place; and with
hlm I lived while he livad. When he
had died—that
and little more—I had packed up to
leave, when his daughter, Jean, to whom
the whole property had beeu left, took
my liand, and with tears in her eyes,
begged me to stay.
eighteen years ago,
"And then, Abbe, I had to tell my
story; for I liad come to love that dear
girl, and I would not deceive her. Bo
when I could muster the strength and
nerve I told the whole from beginning
to end; and the end was my love for her,
which was bidding me in honor to go.—
She heard
through, asked me a few
questions, and then threw her arms
around my neck and kissed me. 'Jean l'
she cried, 'if you will be my husband,
and be as true to me as you have been
to my father, I will be your wife, and
sliare with you all my worldly goods.'
"And so, Abbe, you have the story.
You Can lookaround youforthesequel.
These are my children. Augustine St.
Armond is the oldest. He will be sev
enteen on N<
Year's day. Ha! Does
the name strike you familiar? If it
does, you ought to know why I gave it
to him! Joan, the next; was fifteen last
month; and these others are growing
up, I sometimes think almost too fast.
But I am happy, Abbe; and not tbe least
of my happiness henceforth shall be the
blessed privilege of this hour.
"And now, goal father, let us unite
with you in a prayer of thanksgiving to
the Giver of all Good."
The abbe prayed with a fervor such
as he liad never even approaached be
fore^tnd the Amf.ns that followed In
residue were from tho depths of thank
ful hearts.
Wi
m Wheel Gap.
This Gap in Colorado has an interest
ing history. Its name is odd and there
is nothing in the physical formation of
the place to suggest so odd a name.
Only a circumstance, an incident, ga\e
this funny name. It was in 1851, dur
ing the Baker expedition to the Ban
Juan. He had created great excite
ment by the report of tbe discovery ol
rich placer mines in the Juan county,
then the home of the Ute Indians. It
was a terrible experience for the hun
dreds of poor fellows who followed Mr.
Baker over the mountains of Colorado
to make their fortunes. Those who did
not starve to death, or die of exposure,
returned to their homes, in the East,
swearing vengeance on Baker, who kept
out of the way. The rich gold mines
now owned by Senator Bowen, in the
Summit district, is the region discov
ered by Baker, and to which he tried to
lead these men. It was here he lost his
way, his provisions gave out, and his
m n, many of them, took sick and died
from exposure, and so this expedition,
which had started out with such bright
hopes, had a sad ending. In picking
their way up the narrow passage between
the shores of the Rio Grande river and
the bluffs of granite rising to a height
of 1,300 feet, on reaching tbe end of the
canon they found a number of broken
wagon-wheels, broken axles, and other
par;a of wrecked wagons. They knew
not how this debris came here, but sup
posed tbe Indians had murdered some
emigrants or pioneers and destroyed
their oonveyance. But this incident
was sufficient to name the spot "Wagon
wheel Gap. " There was much specula
tion as to where this w agon debris came
from. It was afterwards learned that
these wheels, etc., were the remnants of
the Fremont expedition of 1848. Fre
mont was on his way to the Pacific
through the canon of the Rio Grande,
and took an outlet by this narrow Gap
The hardships and suffering which he
and his men endured inhunti g for this
route were beyond conception. Winter
set in, and the snow lay on the ground
very deep. Realizing the folly of_
ing on Fremont decided to go iuto
winter quarters ; he seleoted a wooded
spot a few miles from the gap, but the
cold and snow during this terrible
winter was more than even these hardy
men could endure ; many of them died
from exposure ; tbe cattle alre died.
At last the pathfinder found it necessary
to march with all speed to a point south
of Santa Fe,recruit his band and secure
hones aud cattle. It is no wonder that
his wagons tumbled from the rough
trail and were broker on the rocks be
low. It has been said, "there is nothing
in a name. " There seems to have been
something in this one.
is
'
I
The victory was won, but General
Wolfe lay dying on the Heights of Ab
raham. Hearing the shouts of the
soldiers. "They fly I they fly I" the
General stood on his elbow anil anx
iously askeil, "Who fly?" "Hoss-flv I"
replied a sergeant near by, and Wolfe,
recognizing the forerunner of the Amer
ican paragrapher, was glad to lie down
and die beiore the batoh of 1883
along.
—Brooklyn's champion mean
has come to the surface. Ue is in cus
tody for robbing school children of their
books and playthings.
Anger wishes that mankind only had
one neck; love, that it had only
heart; grief, two tear glands; pride,
two bent knees.
Of great riches there is no real
except it be in the distribution.
came
to
nlH'
UM
A Morganatlo Widow.
A writer trooi i ans «aid 1 saw the
Princess Dolgorouki, the morganatic
widow of the late Czar Alexander, driv
ing in the Bois de Boulogne. The car
riage just ahead of uers was that of my
tailor, and as a long-expected check has
not j et arrived and as there is still a small
balance due to the individual whom 1
honor with my pantaloon patronage, 1 of
course raised my hat to Mrs. Goose and
the little goslings. I was a little slow in
doing so, and had, therefore, just got my
elbow to the right crook and my hat to
the proper distance m front of the tip of
my nose when my carriage passed that of
the Emperor's widow. The good lady
Lh( tight 1 was somebody saluting her, and
—' to be outdone in politeness bowed
most graciously in the direction of my
left ear. Since then I have taken won
derful interest in the Princess, and l learn
that she has settled permanently in Paris;
hence I may bave another opportunity.
Now that Alexander has been gathered to
Iiis fathers, the handsome lady who used
to take the place of the C'zanua in his im
penal arms is of far less importance in
this world of trouble than she was when
her magnificent protector reigned over all
the Uussia8. When Alexander Nicbolaso
vitch was assassinated, the Princess Dol
gorouki, whom he marned alter the dea'b
of bis Empress, came to Paris; this name
is the on« which the Emperor conferred
on her; her real title is that of Princess
Youriewskaya. The word Youriewskaya
means the temale descendent of Youri.
and tms particular Youri from whom this
Princess descends through her mother was
the founder of the sacred city of Moscow.
The widow is tall, slender, and straight,
with a thick bead of fair hair, and
which, when 1 saw her yesterday, was
half concealed by a hat almost covered by
a mass of black lace. 1 should Judge her
to have all the seductive graces of the
Slavonic race. Her large eyes are of a
pearly gray and have that far-away ex
pression peculiar to persona who prefer
toe memories of the past or the dreams of
the future to the things of tho present
Her two little daughters, Olga aDd Cathe
rine. aged four and six years respectively,
— in tne carnage with madame the prin
cess. She has another child, a i.jd of ten
year of age. named Youri, who ia already
quite an artist. 1 have seen him making
»ketches from nature In the Tuilleries
Garden, and be often goes to the Louvre
and Luxembourge to study the paintings,
t he widow is a great reader, and her book
seller has orders to keep her supplied with
all the latest works as fast as they appear.
Formerly music and water-color painting
were her chief enjoyments, but since the
death ot the imperial gentleman who en
grossed all her affections she has not
played a note nor touched a brush.
ly
ive
ed
on
of
of
to
all
is
of
is
fit
ot'
Nothin« New Under the San.
As we wanaer through tbe houses of
Pompeii—where the paintings are yet
blight on tbe walls, and we may walk
around the gardens and see tbe dned
up fountains—one seems to bear ail tbe
book of Revelation sounding in one's
ears, aud a voice saying: "Behold I
make all things new l '
in tbe deserted streets Jife suddenly
stopped 1,800 years ago. lt d» true
tuai the destruction was not instan
taneous, and a great many of tbe in
habitants saved their lives, and
took away a good deal of tb it treasure.
But enough was loit to show us every
detail ot Ruman life. Tbe old wi rid
is set before us, with all its and its evils,
as glories and its soames. We know
what manner of men and women they
must have been, aud what their daily
lives were like, almost as well as if we
bad actually dwelt among them.
Those old Pompeiians were very
modern. There is nothing new under
ihe sun. They bud folding-doors and
hot water urns; they put gratings to
iheir windows and made rockeries in
their gardens; their steel-yards are ex
actly like those y our cheesemonger uses
to weigh his Cheudars and Giosters.
iheir children had toys like ours—
bears, bons, pigs, cats, dogs, made ol
clay, uad some times sei Ting
jugs
. Boor children! Poor mothersi
How did they tare in those days oi
darkness and dismay?
People wiotc ou walls and cat their
names on seals, just the same as we do
uow. They kept birds in cages. In
Naples to-uay. us walk along theGhiaja,
you may find yourself iu the midst of u
nurd oi goats, with bells around their
necks, exactly like those in theMusonm.
I hey give tokens at the doors of their
places of entertainment—the people in
ihe gallery hud pigeons made of a son
ol terra cotta. JLuey put lamps inside
the hollow eyes ol the musks that
adorned their fountains. They even
made grottos of shells—vulgarity itself
is ancient.
TLey ate sausages and hung up
strings of onions. Tney had stands for
public vehicles, and the schoolmaster
used a birch to the dunces. They pnt
stepping-stones across the roads, that
ihe Uuinty young patrician gentlemen
and p'usy old senators might not soil
their gilded sandals. It was never oold
enougn tor the pipes to buret, but they
turned their water on and off with taps,
aud their cook-shops hud marble count
ers. Tney clapped their offenders into
the stocks—two gladiators kept there
lor 1,800 years.
\V hen the crockery broke they rivited
it. At Herculaneum there is a huge
wine-jar harried m the eardi. It has
been badly broken, but is so neatly
rivited, with many rivits, that it no
doubt held the wine as well as ever;
those rivits hav6 lasted 1,800 years! It
is a strange thing to think about. What
would the housewife have said if some
one had tola her that her cracked pot
would out lust the Roman Empire?
on
ed
h
in
of
Statisticians have pronounced the
United states to be not only potentially,
but actually, richer than the United
Kingdom. Counting the hou&es, lumi
lure, manufactures, railways, shipping
bullion, lauds, cattle, crops, invest- iie
meats aud roads, it is estimated that
there is a grand total in the United
c>tate8 of $4'J,77U,OUU,00ü. Great Bri
tain is credited with something 1188 than
$40,OOU,UUU,UUO, or nearly $10,000,000,
less than the United States. The
wealth per inhabitant in Great Britain
is estimated at $1,160, and iu the United
States $895. With regard to the re- a
inundation of labor, assuming the
produce of labor to be 100, in Great
Britian 50 narts go to the laborer, 21 to I * u
capital and 23 to Government. France, I Wlt
41 parts go to labor, 30 to capital aud !
23 to Government, in the United States * or
72 parts go to labor, 23 to capital, and 5
the
the
"Yus," said Miss Penn, "I rejocted ' of
Mr. Hogg- Nice fellow, but I couldn't
have the announcement of my marriage
' appear in the papers undsr the head- up
I line Hegg-Pen. H 1
to Government.
rflexico'a Bandy Girls.
Clara Bridgeman writes enthusiastical
ly of tho Befool of Arts and Trades for
Women, established there some years
ago by President Juarez:
As it is, however, Mexico oonld not
furnish a more interesting and attract
ive sight than thin school when it is iu
operation, with all its workshops crowd
ed with busy students and snob a hum
and stir of bustling activity that one is
constantly reminded of a vast beehive.
There ore troops of dark-eyed maid ne
on every side, cheerfully engaged ln ah
manner of occupation, and one hardly
knows which to admire most, the deft
_ _ with which they perform their
various tasks or the exquisite neatuess
of their appearance, with faces and
clothes spotlessly clean, hair smoothly
braided, and all with long Holland
aprons that give to them a particularly
tidy look. The school numbers about
368 regular attendants varying in age
from girls of 12 up to women of middle
age. The government not only gives
them every variety of instruction free
of charge, but likewise provides all the
materials and apparatus for work, two
substantial meais each day, and the
linen aprons. Moreover it allows them
to dispose Of what they make, and for
that purpose a pretty little store is at
tached to the school building, where
all suoh articles may be exp osed for
sale. Farther assistance is fumiahea
by the government officials, who give
orders for upholstery, bookbinding,
aud also clothing for the various charit
able institutions of the oity. Several
hours in the morning are devoted to
the primary branches of a good Spanish
education as well us book-keeping, and
the rest of the day is passed in learning
the trades appropriate to the different
classes. On the ground floor are the
workshops, or "talkres," all largely
attended by students that seem deeply
interested in their various labors. In
i room you will find a crowd of work
busily engaged in upholstering fur
niture; in anotner a multitude of deli
cate hands are mouldiug and gilding,
while in a third one is surprised to
the skill with wich these Mexican girls
can bind books. One large department
is set aside for the manufacture of arti
ficial flowers, in which tbe sol Mars are
particularly expert, and they are sure
of finding ready sale for these beautiful
specimens of their handiwork. Tho
pnuting-room is well stocked with all
appliances lor the art, und although
the class at preseut is small, the work
is doue very satisfactorily and proves be
yond a doubt thivt wornau is eminently
qualified for this employment. A news
paper is published by the students— »
small weekly of four sheets- which
bears the appropriate title of La Mujer.
On the second floor are the apartments
for sewing and fancy work, aud these
contain a large number of machines,
looms anil insrtaments for making an
manner of trimmiugs, fringes, cords
and tassels, and tbe like. Some ol
the embroidery and "mailla'' is beauti
lui beyond description, for the Mexi
cans ure unrivaled in this branch ol
needlework, aud iheir dainty Angers
seem specially adapted to all that re
quires delicate haudliug. In the mean
time the higher arts are not neglected;
the school has several good pianos, and
both vocal aud ius.rumeutal mnsio are
taught., while such as eviuoe talauts foi
drawing aud painting are sent to the
academy of San Carlo*, near by. When
one oorniiltrd that these aiivnutages are
all enjoyed without the slightest ex
pense to the poor students; that, more
over, they are partly supported
aided in every possible way iu their ef
foits to be imiependeut and self-help
iul, one cannot retrain from paying a
tribute of heartful admiration to the
government which shows so patenta 1
an interest in the welfare of its daught
3 , and makes such generous efforts to
fit them for a career of usefulness. Noi
are these efforts confined to the capital.
Similar institutions exist in other cities
ot' tho republic, and iu almost every
direction the prospects for the future
improvement aud education of womoL
- most encouraging. In Guadalajara,
connected with the Hospicio, there is a
school of arts and trades, where women
are taught printing, photography, litiio
graphv, stenography, tailoring, shoe
making, stocking and cloth weaving.
Au Ola Veteran.
David Van Arsdalc died in New York
on the 14th of November. He belong
ed to
the flag on the Battery on Evacuation
Day.
The Van Arsdalc family traces its
genealogy back to Jan Vau Arsdale, a
anight of Holland, who flourished in
1211. The family was a notable oae,
and there is a quaint old fortress in the
Netherlands to which it has given a
name. Syinon Jausen Van Arsdaien, a
descendant of the knight,
the Now Netherlands in 1653, and set
tled at Flatlamts, becoming the progen
itor of a numerous race, which inter
married with all the leading tumilies oi
Long Is'and. His great-greut-grandson,
John Vau Arsdale,
h inter of the flag. He
1756, and with his father and four
brothers he took the field under Wash
ington and fought with bravery through
the war for independence. He
wounded at Furt Montgomery, aud was
held a prisoner of
in New York, obtaining his release
through an exchange ol prisoners in
1778. Alter this he was employed
agmiist the Indians in the northern part
of the State, and it is rilated that he
once ugaiu made prisoner by the
savages, aud with two companions es
caped from torture and death only
throu 8 u fclie drunkenness of his cap
tor f* 1 , r . , , . , . „
Joim Va ?,~" dal ® remained in the
Belvi0e Qutl ! 1782, when he left with the
raulc of Bfc rgeuut. On Jane 16, 1783,
iie marrled Crawford, the daugh
ot , a ^ cotc ^ Fresbytenac settler ou
Island. On November 25. follow
110 ralBetl while the British
hosts retreated to tbeir ships. Tue de
foated ßoWiery. betöre leavmg the city,
gratified their spleen by a last iu
BUlt *° ^h® Americans. They hail cut
flag halliards attached to the tali
a hiff on the Butt ry, they had detached
*be cleats from the pole, and lest |
f®U° w might buceeed in c iuib
* u 8 it, they hud covired the surface
Wlt h sludge to render it slippery. Van
Arsdafe, who had been a sailor boy be
* or ® be entered ihe Revolutionary army, I
weu t with hundreds of other citizens to
the Battery to see tho flag rai»ed after ,
the evacuation. When the difficulties j
of the situation were realized he at
tempted to climb the po e, but alter I
two or three attempts wa* forced to give '
up tbe endeavor. According to the
common story, v oad and a saw were it
old Dutch family, and raised
.grated to
the famous
born in
1er nine months
pr<>cured, cleat« were made, aud the
youug soldier-sailor made his asceut,
uailing on the steps
climbing on ik<'in until he reached the
top. His granddaughter says the tra
dition in the family is that her grand
lather saw, a ladder near by, fetched it
to t''e foot of the pole and ascended to
the top of it, carrying the flag Pallia r dr
lastened to hi« waist. Whatever impute
there may be
stances, Un re :
to the brosd fact that John Vau Arsdalc
reeved the new goar, and ran up th
flag on the morning of the first Evacua
tion Day. He lived for many years
after, making his livelihood by sailing
packet boata in the waters about New
York. He died in 1S36, and on many
anniversaries he r< peated his actions of
November 25, 1783, in the presence ol
applauding crowds.
David Van Arsdale, who died on the
14th.
lationury hero. He was born Septem
ber 1, 179#, in a country house ou a
grassy knoll situated where Scammei
. Early in life he foi
by one and then
to the minor cireum
manner of doubt as
the third son of the old Key.>
street
lowed his father into seafaring life,
tor many years he iouud an occupation
n the coasting and inland trade. In tlu
War of 1812 be proved that he was no.
unworthy of his father.
Iu 1824 he married Mary McGarv,
and it may be mentioned us charactei
latio that irom that time to the day o
uis death he lived in only two houses
It appears that Miss MoGary's father
turn built himself a country house
the site which in later days became No.
262 Rivington street,
street. It had a brick front and side
aud rear walls of frame construction,
after tbe style of the day, aud it war
nrrounded with be*utilul shade trees.
Young Vau Aradale before his marriagi
lived where Ludlow aud Broome street*
intersect, and it is told that his sweet
heart was very much exeroised as to hit
safety whenever be came to see her, su
wild and so frequented by roughs were
ciie rocus aud woods that lay between
their dwellings. The old man often
told bis daughter that he had earned
home a "cord of wood,'' he
in sticks g.ven him as weapons of de
fense by bis betrothed as he left aftei
evening's visit. One night she liai:
uothing bat an old spade handle, which
she insisted on his taking for wunt of t>
better weapon. He resisted, but tlu
lady carried her point. It was fortu
nate she did, for that night, indeed, tin
youug man was beset near nis üome in
two or three highwaymen, whom hi
with difficulty routed.
Alter ms wedding David Van Arsdali
went to live at tne Rivington street
house. He stayed there lor forty years,
.ind tuen moved to No. 442 East 12Is.
street, where ins body now iisf. Foi
the past forty-seven years Mr. Van Ars
dule had beeu an employe of the Barge
Office, having been appointed undui
Martin Van Bureu. His wife dieu
twenty-three yeara ago, but he is sur
vived by two snters, respectively eighty
six and eighty-two years old. Hu
daughter and his grandchildren have
always lived with him. He
religious man, being a member of tUi
Trinity Methodist Episoopai Cnurch
ormerly the Becond Avenue Churcn.
Co uml*ii.
very
The Land ot the Sky.
The Washington Star has a letter
from Asheville, N. C., giving an ac
count ef tbe impetus that section lias
received by the opening of railway com
munications. The writer says:
The Western North Carolina rail
road, which ten years ago successfully
crossed the unbroken range of the Blue
Ridge, is at last completed. The hard,
natural difficulties it encountered iu its
pathway across sixty miles of an almost
impenetrable mountain country, led to
many discouraging delays, and even
endangered at
gress. The work is
time its further pro
, however, in
good running order, and is a bright
addition to the engineering triumph ot
the age, and a monument to the skill
aud determination of its engineers.
To this lovely mountain country and to
Asheville it has been a God-send.
Though it is now' eighteen mouths
since the shrill neigh of the iron horse
first echoed among her hills, the activity
of her trade and industries, and the
large influx of strangers in that time,
have been such as to surprise even her
most devoted prophets.
The "boom" is a big one. The most
superficial observer cannot help but
notice it, aud I venture to say it is un
rivaled by that of other towns which
have risen to importance on the
approach of railroads.
Nor is it to be wondered at. We
have here a climate whose health-giving
properties must ultimately become as
celebrated as that of Aiken or Minnes
ota. Although acknowledged to be
equal to tbe Minnesota climate in dry
ness, it is superior to it iu equability
and mildness of temperature, while its
greater elevation, dryness, and cooler
summer weather make it bett
valids than Aiken. I met many here
this summer both from the North and
South who were afflicted with lung and
throat troubles. I was glad to hear
them tell that in coming here they
acted upon the advice of their physi
cians, for it went to prove the speedy
recognition of this climate by medical
men as a good health restorer.
An extraoraiuary fallacy is the dread
of night air. What air can we breathe
at night but night air? The choice is be
tween pure night air withont, aud foul
air from within. Most people prefer
tho latter. An unaccountable choice,
What wifi they say if it is proved to be
true that fuily one-half of all the di
Beases we suffer from are occasioned by
people sleeping aith their windows
shm? Au ojeu window, most nights
m the year, can never hart any one, in
greii cities night air is often tbe best
aud purest to be had m twenty-fours,
I oonld understand shutting the win
dows ui town during the day than dur
mg the night, for the suke of the sick,
The absense of smoke, tho quiet, ah
tend to make the night tho best time
ior airing the parient. One of oui
highest medical authorities ou oonsump
tiou and climute, has told
air iu London is never so good i
ten o'clock at night. Always air your
room from the outside air, if possible.
Windows are made to open, doors are
made to shut—-a truth which seems ex
tremely difficult of apprehension. Everv
room must be aired from without—i very
passage from within. But the fewer
passages there are in a hospital the
better.
Cowardioe asks : Is it safe ? Expedi
enoy asks : Is it politic? Vanity asks .
Is it popular ? But oonsoieuoe asks : Is
it right ?
for in
Nlitht Air.
that the
altar
the
it
to
dr
of
ol
a
Underground Kullwi
As every American knows who lias
visited London, the underground rail
way system is one of the most extraor
nary systems of locomotion in tlia world.
Subterranean London is literally honey
combed bv tunnels branching off in all
directions, so that, while wagons and
hansoms rumble overhead, innumera
ble trains shrink and groan as they
thread their way in darkness beneath
the busy thoroughfares. When it was
proposed to construct this underground
railway system, much opposition was
made to the scheme. It was believed
that the thundering of the trains would
shake down the houses above, and that
to enter the long tunnels would be cer
tain death to any person venturesome
enough to attempt it.
When the opposition was overcome,
after a long struggle between the pro
moters aud the citizens, and the first
portion of the system was completed, it
was soon discovered that instead of the
underground railways being a public
danger, they w T ere in reality a great
public benefit. They took an enormous
amount of traffic off the already crowded
public thoroughfares, and provided a
speedy means of communication with
the most distant parts of the metropolis
such as was impossible under the old
fashioned modes of traversing the
streets of London. Indeed, it is owing
to the underground railway system that
the English metropolis now possesses
means of rapid communication such as
is possessed by no other large city in the
world. The system consists of two
rings of subterranean tunneling—an
inner and an outer. The outer ring w as
long ago completed. Within the next
six months the inner circle will be com
pleted, at a cost of something like $15,
U00.000 a mile. Underground London
will then be ramified by a complete re
ticulation ot tunnels, and it will be pos
sible to reach any part of the gigantic
suburbs in less than an hour.
When the original objectors to the
underground railway system appeared
before the promoters, they bas^d their
opposition to the scheme mainly on two
grounds—that it w r ould cause a vast
diminution in the value of property,
and that the noxious vapors and the
locomotive smoke would prove highly
dangerous to public health and safety.
Neither of these objections has been
seriously realized.
as
o
hit
su
de
t>
tlu
tin
in
hi
Hu
tUi
Where proper
ty was injured the Metropolitan Rail
way Company gave compensation; and
as for foul vapors, all danger from that
source was obviated by the numerous
air holes which were bored through the
roof of the tunnel, and the open charac
ter which was given to all the stations.
One danger, however, which was not
dreamed of in connection with the un
derground railways, was the presence of
infernal machines in the tunnels, and
the instantaneous death and injury of
unsuspecting passengers by their explo
sion. The terrible affairs which occur
red in London of late, cannot be attri
buted to an explosion of fire damp.
With trains traveling coutinously at
three minute intervals through the tun
nels, foul air would inevitably be driven
through the air holes or out at the open
stations, which are situated at very
short distances from each other.
A Do;- Show,
ac
lias
its
to
A writer from London says ; 1 dropped
in at tbe Duke of Wellington's riding
school last evening to see the St. Bern
ard Dog Show. The Duke's carriages
had been pushed aside in a corner and
covered with brown Holland cloths and
some temporary barriers bad been
erected, at which pay-takers mounted
guard. I never spent a shilling more
to my satisfaction than in the contem
plation of the three hundred noble ani
mals which are here shown,
thoroughly of a mind with Madame de
Sevigue, who said that the more she
saw ot men the more she liked dogs.
What grand, self-respecting creatures
these St. Bernards are! Surely there
must be something more behind those
wonderful eyes and good, wise fore
heads than a mere brute's brain. One
of tbe immense fellows here exhibited
has saved forty lives on the Alpine
heights, Most of the dogs are English
born and a rare adjunct to a well-regu
lated country home is a friend of tills
sort, a detective who quietly stands by,
with every faculty lor defense or attack
on the alert until the true character of
every guest is amply disclosed. A dog
as big as a lion, who will not barm a
baby and yet will fight a dozen burg
lars, with unquenchable ferocity, is in
deed, a friend in need. Would that a
new intelligence for detecting evil in
tentions might be developed iu Saint
Bernard's, that dynamite murderers
might be frustrated before they could
wreak their cruelty on innocent heads
pro
in
ot
skill
to
the
her
but
un
the
We
as
be
its
and
I am
be
be
di
by
in
.
in
irrigation
a Large Scale.
The most gigantio irrigation enter
prises ever inaugurated in the Stute of
California has been
Fresno county, the canal for which will
the largest in the State, and fed by
King's nver. The water is intended to
irrigate 30,000,000 acres of rich land,
at present barren through lack of wafer.'
The source of suppfy of this canal will
lie higher than any other debouching
from the same stream. Its dimensions
aie: One hundred feet in width at the
bottom; levees an average of fifteen
feet In height and eight feet wide at the
top, broad euoagh for a wagon road.
The depth of the water is expected to
be five feet with a fall of eighteen inches
to the mile. The da
canon, whence the water is taken, will
be a wonderful aud permanent one.
It is tweuty-five feet high, eight hun
dred feet long, one hundred aud forty
feet wide at the base and twenty five
feet wide on top. It is rip-rapped
the inside with heavy rook, and every
precaution taken to make it sufficiently
strong to securely hold the great weight
of water that must be supported. 1_
water is led iuto the canal irom a large
headgate, constructed of heavy timber,
euo hundred feet iu width aud eighteen
feet high. It is planked over
make a bridge for heavy wagons, and
has wings to protect it from the floods.
The canal is expected to carry thirteen
Hundred cubic feet of
seoond.
oommencoil in
■
in the mountain
Fhfl
to
water por
Before using
ware, place
iu a boiler of cold water, and heat grad
ually till it boils ; then let it remain
until the water is oold. It will not be
likely to craok if treated thus.