The Delaware ledger., December 29, 1883, Image 1

About The Delaware ledger. (Newark, Del.) 1879-19??

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VOLUME VII.
NEWARK, taEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, DECEMBER 29, 1883.
NUMBER 2.
FIRST-CLASS GOODS
A SPECIALTY,
AT THE
GLASS FRONT.
8ugar, Coffee, Tea, Btarch, Canned
Goods, Foreign A Domestic Fruits.
Largest 8 took and Finest Assortment of
China, Glass and Quccusware
IN TOWN.
AGENT FOR THE CELEBRATED
MILWAUKEE LAGER BEER.
In bottles, 90
Pure Wines, Brandies, Whiskies, Rio
Maracaibo and Java Coffees,
Choice Quality, Fresh Roasted Every week.
per dosen.
THE LOWEST CASH PRICES.
W. IF. GRIFFITH.,
Malu Street, Newark, Del
A. J. LIIiJLBY,
Manufacturer of all kinds of
BAG CARPET
Next to Lutton's Shops,
NEWARK, DELAWARE,
nr ALL WORK GUARANTEED.
c
L
puni] rnuas,
MEDICINES,
CHEMICALS,
PATENT MEDICINES,
SOAPS, BRUSHES,
PERFUMERY,
SPONGES, ETC
-A-T JAY'S
DRUG AND CHEMICAL STORE,
MAIN STREET,
Newark, Del., Near the P. O.
fciT Prescription* Carefully Com
pounded at all hours, Day or Night*
THE
SSi'yanJ Q fia&<xn
BUSINESS COLLEGE,
108 SOUTH TENTH ST., PHILADELPHIA
First-class facilities for imparting a
Business Education. Certificates good
in 80 colleges. Tho extensive Practical
Department is furnished with a Commis
sion House, Freight Office, Importing
and Jobbing House, and a complete Bank,
each in «ctive Operation, with all the po
sitions filled by pupils. Daily correspcn
between the stu
different colleges. Separate
instruction. No vneation. Students can
enter at any time. Visitors always wel
come. Correspondence and calls solicited
from young
ing in mercantile affairs and correct bus
iness habits. Illustrated Circulars free
deuce and transact!«
dents of
wishing thorough train
NOW IS THE TIME TO OET A
GOOD STOVE
r
a
NATHAN ZIGLER,
MAIN ST., NEWARK, DEL.
6ÊST QUALITY TIN ROOFING
WM. H. FISHER,
PAINTER.
Having recently opened the shop
opposite Win. Russell's store, I am
prepared to do any kind of work in
iny line, 6uck ns
AND
VARNISHING FURNITURE.
House Painting,
AND
oil iFUsrisxxiisrG-.
<114lltN ItK AH I)
».00 A WEEK!
We can guarantee the above aiuouut
to good, active, energetic
AGENTS !
gentlemen, make s
succl'hk in the businese. Very little
capital required. We have household
salable as flour.
Ladies as well
ariicles
It Soils Itself!
It is used every day in the family. You
do not need to explain its merits. There
is a rich harvest for «11 who embraco
this golden opportunity. It costs you
un I y one cent to learu what your busi
ness is. Buy a postal card and write
will send you our pros
?o us and
pectus and full particulars
FREE I
And we know you will derive more
good than you bave any idea of. Our
reputation as a manufacturing com
pany is such that we can not afford to
deceive. Write to us on a postal and
give your address plainly and receive
full particulars.
Buckeye MT'G €?©.,
illurtoii, Oliio.
ELECTRICITY .—Of »11 the known Electro-C.al
* tanlc Applied« a at the proaent day 1} l»""" Ç 0 ":
ceded by the Modical Fraternity and Electrician
generally, that the Amerlcau Galvanic Co. a How
ard Shi mid# »re the beat, poseeaalng intrinsic Elec
trical inerlU, aa one ahleld or apiilianca ean be At
u any part of tha body, which la not
other. Wee advertisement la another eoluma
1 paper.—Electric Gawttoe.
t. a
any ot
ef till.
UNBELIEF.
!
i
1
v hen the eyelids
There la
unbelief; •
Whoever plants a seed beneath the sod
And waits to
It push away the clod,
He trusts iu God.
Whoever says, when clouds are In the Bky, 1 I
"Be patient, heart; light breaketh by-and- !
by,"
Trusts the Must High.
Whoove
The silent harvest of the future grow,
God's power must know.
, 'noath winter's field of snow.
Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep,
Content to lock each sense in slumber deep,
Knows God will keep.
Whoever snys, "To-morrow, * "The Un
"The Future," trusts that Power alone
He dares disown.
The heart that looks
close,
And dares to live when life has only woes,
God's comfort knows.
unbelief;
There is
And day by day, and night, unconsciously,
The heart lives by that fulth the Ups deny—
God knoweth why I
if
THE UNKNOWN COUSIN.
"Get out, you old scampT"
It was a brilliant July day, with skies
of cloudless blue, the air scented with
clover-blossou s, and the brook wend
ing its melodius way under green
masses of peppermint, and Mr. Carey,
who had walked a long distance, and
had just fallen into a doze, under the
refreshing shadow of a gnarled apple
tree, startled galvanically up at this
ungentle address:
"Ma'am" said he, "1 assure you I am
not trespassing; I—"
But his apologetic .words were cut
short by the rattling of a stout stick on
the stone wall, close to him; and in an
other moment, a belligerent-looking red
c ow, came plunging through the high
grass, directly toward his haven of
refuge.
He started to run, but ins foot catch
ing in the gnarled root of an ancient
tree, he fell headlong. The cow execu
ted a hurdle leap over his prostrate
form; aud vanished In a clump of hazel
bushes, and a resolute, bright-eyed
woman, of some forty-odd years, came
to the rescue, with a stick balanced
across her shoulder.
"Don't strikel" pleaded Mr. Carey.
"I'm getting off the premises as fast as
L can. I assure you, I didn't know I
was trespassing."
Desire Welland blushed very prettily,
as she pushed back tho sunbonnet, and
endoavored to adjust her luxuriant red
brown hair, which had broken loose
from its pins.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said. "It
wasn't you I meant at all, sir; it was the
cow who had got into the cabbage
patch. Did I hit you with the stick?
But I never dreamed of anyone but
Bossy being there. Oh, let
home and get the camphor-bottle?"
Slowly Mr. Carey raised himself to a
sitting and then to a standing posture;
slowly he felt his knees, elbows and
collar-bones.
a
d
i
run
"I'm not hurt," said he—"not to sig
nify, that is. It wasn't your stick,
ma'am; it was the roots of this con
founded old tree. It's enough to startle
any man, don't you see? to hear him
self called—
"But it wi
old scamp."
't you I meant," breath
lessly cried Desire: "It was the old
cow. Won't you let me run up to the
house and get a capcine plaster? Oh,
do."
Désira was fair to look upon, in spite
of her forty summers, with big black
eyes, a laughing cherry-red mouth
and cheeks just browned with the
healthful hue of mountain breezes.
Mr. Carey felt hinnelf gradually
softeniug as he looked at her.
"No," said he. "I don't care for a
capcine plaster. But I've walk#d a
good way, and I should like a bowl of
coffee if it's haudy."
"01», pray come up to the house
then," said Desire. "It's only a step
across the orchard. Oh, that cow, that
cow! We must certainly have her ham
pered after this!"
"Perhaps," said Mr. Carey, solemnly,
as he endeavored to straighteii the
edges of his hat, "you know a family
by the name of Welland who lives here
abouts. Two old maids, who manage
a farm all by themselves. Vey peculiar
females 1
Desire stood still and began to laugh,
while the deep crimson suffused her
cheeks.
"Why,?' cred she, "it's us. It's me
and Malvina. We are the Welland
girls."
It was JJr, Carey's turn to flush and
look awkward now.
"Ohl" said he. "Well, it don't mat
ter. I've business at the Welland farm
—that's all."
Isn't it strange that things Bhould
happen so?" cned Desire, opening the
gate into the dim, shadowy oichurd,
where scarlet lilies grew in the tall grass
and the robins darted in and out of the
drooping boughs. "There's the house
You can see it now. Malvina and 1
have managed the farm ever since father
died. Philo—that's our brother— basa
house and an estate of his
his wife don't want any single relations.
But we've done very well, every one
says. Here's the place. Aud here's
Malvina!"
Miss Malvina Welland was diligently
hoeing sweet corn in a man's hat and
boots. She was a tall, Amazonian sort
of female, with high cheek bones, hair
cut short, and a masculine way of leat
her hoe. She looked sharply
around at the sound of footsteps.
"Is it the new hired man?" said she.
"Then, Desire, you may tell him that
we don't want help that comes at this
time of day. I'll have no eight hour
men on my place."
"Oh, Marvina, hush I" cried the
younger siBter, in despair. "Its a gen
tleman on business."
Iu came Brother Pbiio from the buck
yard, with an auger in his had.
told.
1, and
ing
'
"Eh?*' said Brother Philo, a wriukl
eel, hard-featured man in a blue over-all, 1
! und boots that looked as if they might I
i l,ave .>* en <arwd out of li 9 aum viu *-1
"Business? It ain't a sewin' machine, J
1 s'pose or a new patent reaper, nor
any o' these labor-savin' humbugs? Be
caipe—"
"It's about your cousin Rolf," said
Mr l-ni-HV—-Paul Wolland'ssmi
Mr.l.urey— laid Welland b boh. '.« «
come back from Australia. He request- *
ed me to come over here, as I happened
to be passing this way, and see what his
relations would do about giving him a
home."
At these words, Mrs. Philo Welland
emerged from the currant-bushes, where
she was picking the sparkling, ruby-col
ored fruit to make jelly. For Mrs.
Philo believed in always picking her
neighbor's fruit before she began on her
1 I
!
I
own.
"A home, indeed 1" said Mrs. Philo,
"It's what I always told you, Philo 1
Says I, that man'll be sure to come back
some day, poorer than poverty, says I.
And he'll expect us to take care of him
eben. Hut we've worked a deal too
hard for our money—me and Philo—and
if he wants to be supported, let him juit
go to the poor-house. Paul Welland al
ways was a rovin' creetur', and Rolf
ain't no batter, I'll go bail 1"
Mr. Philo Welland screwed up his
face into an expression of the utmost
caution.
"P'r'aps you're his lawyer, sir?"said
he.
Mr. Carey nodded.
"I act for him," said he.
"Then toll him," said Philo, succinct
ly, "that if he expects w r e'ue goin* to
support him,he's consider-a-bly mistook I
We've always took care of ourselves ;
do the same 1 Come, Betsey,
we'd better be goin'l"
"Philo 1" cried out Desire, "how can
you be so selfish ? Rolf Welland is
cousin. If he is in want or trouble,
whom has he to look to but us ?■ Mal
vina, you won't be so hard-hearted ?
The old farm-house is big enough for
our Cousin Rolf as well as for us. You
never would turn a sickly old man
adrilt upon the world?"
"No, I wouldn't 1" said Miss Malvi
na, thumping her hoe upon the ground.
"Look here, stranger, tell Rolf Welland
lie's welcome to a home with us. We
live plafii, but we're ready to give him
a hearty welcome. Tell 1dm to come
here at once. The sooner the better 1"
"Women is fools," incidentally re
marked Philo Welland, chewing a stalk
of currant leaves. "If you lost what
little yôu've got, do you s'pose this rél
ative o' yourn would raise a finger to
help you ? Let every man take care of
himself, say I !"
"Aud who knows," cried Desire
brightly. "Perhaps we
d istrict school to teach ? 1 heard Squire
Loames say that the new teacher wasn't
going to stay more than a quarter long
i it -
a
get him the
"I m glad you can afford to take free
boarders," said Mrs. Philo, acidly. "Me
and your brother—we cant !"
"Do come in, now, and get the coffee,
said Desire. "And a few late straw
berries, Mr.—Mr.—"
"Carey is my name," said the stran
ger, who had stood immovable beneath
the fiery hail of this conversational epi
sode. "That is to say, it is my name
now. I chanced to make myself useful
to a rich old gentleman in the East, who
took a fancy to me, and left me his prop
erty in his will. The only condition ap
pended was that I should take his name
in additiou to my own. And Carey
isnt a bad name."
"Certainly it ain't," said Philo, with
watering eyes. "I only wish we had
few of that sort of old gentlemen out
this way. I'd change my name half a
dozen times a day if it would be any
accommodation to 'em. 80 you're rich
éh? Betsey,"—to his wife—-"if this
gentleman would be so kind as to come
and take dinner with 11s to-day—"
"No," said the stranger, iu a clear
decisive voice. "Will vou be so kind
as to hear me out? Carey, as I Usve
already told you, is only my adopted
name. My real name is Rolf Welland."
"What!" roared Philo.
Mrs. Philo scrambled so hastily to
her feet that she upset the pail, half
full of currants. Miss Malvina dropp
ed her hoe; and Desire, who had just
brought out a little saucer of lute,
luscious, red strawberries, stood amazed
at this revelalion.
"You!" she cried, "our Cousin Rolf I
And I nearly hit you with the stick,
chasing the cow, and half startled you
out of your senses and—"
"And taught me,''said the old bache
lor, with a strangely-sweet smile, "that
there is yet left a spice of unselfishness
iu the conglomerate called human
nature. Cousin Desire, I thank you
lor the lesson. Believe me, I shall not
soon forget it!"
And betöre the day was over, he had
helped Miss Malvina finish her patch of
sweet-corn, and mended the defective
fence-rails where the offending cow had
broken through, besides staking up tho
sweet-williams, and nailing the big rose
tree to the frame from whence i»s over
blossoming weight dragged it.
"1 declare," said Miss Malvina, "lie's
a real comfort about the place!"
"And*he has traveled so much!"
cried Desire; "and he talks so beauti
fully 1 I only hope he'll be contented
here! 1 '
There was no sort of doubt about
thaf. Rolf Welland Carey, was very well
contented. *11« had always hungered
and thiisted for the details of a home
life—here it was to perfection.
But Mr. and Mrs. Philo were not so
well suited. All their spasmodic efforts
toward friendliness were checked with
1
Arctic frigidity.
"It's too bad!" said Mm. Philo, al
most crying. "He'll be certain sure to |
go and mukc a fool of himself by marry
'
ing Desire, aud we shall never «et a
1 cent of his money. Desire ought to be
I to thiuk of such a thing at her
"But Desire was only forty, nud (here
J ar g roses as well as early ones. - At
least, so Mr. Welland thought. At all
events, he married Desire, and the
Philo Wellands were disconsolate.
"It'" »'• <™r *'» d luckl" " ai , a «'ey.
For tllc y liad forgotten all about the,
g h) tbe Bibk , tbat apcaUsof
* tertlli fc uinB anßel una warel"
if
it
a
a
a
a
to
iu
is
is
to
or
Starving at Sea.
An Italian bark bas reached Balti
more with the survivors of two Boston
ships, the Dauntless and the Freeman
Clarke, which were lost on the South
African coast. Thomas Ilines, one of
the crew of the Clarke, tells this story:
It was in last May that I was in Cal
cutta, India, where I had just obtained
my discharge from an English ship, by
surrendering one month's pay. I did
this because I was anxious to get back
to my family who reside in Liverpool.
One day while walking along the street
I was accosted by some strangers, who
invited me to take a drink. 1 took some
brandy and lemonade. This was the
last I remember until the next day,
when I found myself on board the bark
Freeman Clarke, of Boston, bound for
the Hub, with a cargo of jute. I reali
zed ut once that I had been "shang
haied;" went to the quarter-deck and
begged the officer in chdrge to let me go
ashore, but this request was refused.
As soon as the vessel sailed the miseries
of the crew began, for the bark was old
and leaky, and the weather bad, and we
were constantly at the pumps. On the
12th of July after being out over two
months, we met with very bad weather,
and not being able to get an observa
tion the captain whose name was Wil
liams, lost his bearings. He tried to
make Port Elizabeth, where there is a
safe harbor, but on the morning of the
15th, w'hen the sun again shone forth,
lie found that he hud gone far past Port
Elizabeth, and was about one hundred
aud ten miles off from the Cape St.
Francis Light. The sea was heavy and
the vessel
still under shortened sail,
when about two o'clock in the afternoon,
while Hines and the Port watch were
below the alarfii of fire was giver. In
a moment all was in a bustle. The
flames were discovered pouring forth in
volumes frem the after part of the ves
sel. The first glance showed the dan
ger and all sail was clapped on* the ves
sel and she was' headed for the shore.
For seven hours the men fought the fire,
but at 9 o'clock they abandoned the
vessel and took to the boats. The crew
numbered eighteen men. The captain,
with the second mate, whose name was
Boyle, the steward, a Chinaman, and
three seamen took one boat, and the
first officer, Mr. Waymouth, with tho
remainder of the crew, took the other.
The captain's boat was well provisioned,
but by some unfortunate short-sighted
ness the large boat had no provisions at
all except a bag of ship's biscuits and
water. The biscuits were shortly
wet and became inedible, hence the
suffering which ensued. When they
left tho burning vessel they were about
t^ii miles from laud, but the coast is
much exposed at this point and any
attempt to pass the breakers would
have been death, so both boats set sail
for Port Elizabeth, about one hundred
miles- to the w est of them. Daring the
first night a gale parted the two boats
and they saw nothing of each other for
two days, when they discovered it far
inshore, heading for the land. For
nearly a week they sailed along the
cease, suffering from cold and starva -
tion. They had nothing to eat, aud it
was fearfully cold and rained continu
ously, the rough weather keeping the
men continually bailing. Under -this
terrible strain two of the crew died,
one, tho cook, a young man from Bos
ton, and the a young Norwegian sailor.
They died very quietly, and as
they were dead the bodies were tossed
overboard. When hope was at its last
ebb, Port Elizabeth light was sighted.
They raised a shirt on an oar as a signal,
which
as
recognized, and three fishing
vessels and a steaming put off and
rescued them. They were taken to
Port Elizabeth and kindly cared for by
the A merican consul until they recov
ered and wore then sent to Cape Town,
where they were put on various vessels.
Hines had to wait until September
before he could get a ship ana was put
on the Roma, where he found the sur
vivors of the Dauntless, and all were
brought to Baltimore. He says that
before he left Port Elizabeth a party of
of explorers went overland to see if they
could discover any traces of the captain,
but all they found was a broken-up boat
far down the coast. The unfortunate
must bave attempted to land in the
surf, and probably paid the penalty of
their rashness with their lives.
lleneltiuic Dana«
Many dangers beset people in a great
city. Last year twenty-two persons
were killed, ilfty-three seriously injured
and fifty-ono slightly injured by
over accidents alone iu New York city.
Strangely enough the elevated rail
roads are responsible for more than
their shaie of these accidents. There
were only two persons killed by
street-cars (surface roads) and five on
steam railroads, while there were eight
killed on elevated roads. Of the fifty
one slightly-injured persons, thirty-nine
were hurt on the elevated roads. The
proportion of accidents, however, was
quite small—sixty-one passengers being
injured or killed out of 92,000,000 car
ried
to be ascribed to. the carelessness or
a
a
in
the roads. A few of these are
ne 8 ll 8 ence ot the railroad employes,
** ie Krea ^ r number were caused by
1 the foolhardiness of the victims them
|
heart wants a pure mind.
selves.
A woman who wants a charitable
a
of
of
it
be
of
off
a
ant
old
Hello Hunters.
The dealer in curiosities was turning
over with narked suspicion a large
group of "relics." "A curiosity," said
he, "is interesting iu itself; it means
something, Bat a relia is almost
always u worthless fragment. It
is the thing from which the relio is
taken, not the relic itself, whioli is in
teresting. The genuine relio hunters,
though, are worth knowing; funniest
chaps you ever saw. They're a raoe of
beings by themselves. The man who
sent those things here for me to bay
says he's got reven boxes more of the
same sort, the collection of a lifetime.
Look at this chip, marked, "Piece of
the first sleeper laid for the Qndsoo
River Railroad.' On the man's list it
is entered, 'Bought 1859—50 cents.*'
It muy bo genuine—tbat is, if the
pany used elm woed for their road—but
if this chip is worth 60 cents, the wlie'e
sleeper must be worth several hundred
dollars, and the company ought to
it up and sell it, Thore's no logic in a
relie hunter. Tho one who travelled
all over the world and brought back
several trunks full of noses broken off
from ancient statues, had a definite
idea. His followers are curiously dilu
ted specimens of their predecessor.
"Some of them, however, have spe
cialties not unlike that of the nose
breaker. One of the liveliest of the
relio
rities. 1 don't believe bo would have
given a dollar for Napoleon's grey
coat; but the hat of a President of the
United States had for him an almost
priceless value. If necessary, he was
was ready to suborn a great
vants to get the wished for or tide.
Some years ago I saw his collection.
His finest specimens were at that time
placed upon the heads of plaster bnsts,
and arranged in long rows. He after
wards discarded tins mode of arrange
ment, owing to the singular discrepan
cies which often existed between the
sise of the two artioles. He told me
that he had tried scraping down the
busts, whioli were generally much
larger than the hats, but the result
was to give a peculiar appearance to
his collection. One or two of his hats,
notably that of Thomas H. Benton,
were so small as to create a doubt in
my mind as to their authenticity. I
learned afterwards that hotel servants
and others used to palm off their own
hats upon the collector.
One of the greatest troubles with
relics is that thoy seldom bear the
least evidence within themselves of
their genuineness. I have seen in my
day sevoral hundreds of the pens with
which Walter fcicott wrote Wuverly,
and in the old country Bobby Barns'
drinking glass might almost be called
a staple article of commerce. When
my poor father first took me into
business he gave me an awfnl talking
to because I bought three locks of
Byron's hair from a relio ooilector,
although I only paid sixpence for the
three. Tho trouble was they were all
of different shades. Poe's hair used
to be sold largely, but you can't dis
pose of it now unless you mount it
very expensively In old gold; it takes
best in mourning rings or pins. There
so mach of Poe's hair sold that
the relio trade in hair has suffered
ever since. t There was a time when
a hair relio-hunter would make an ef
fort to secure a lock from the head of
a great muu, even if the latter died as
bald os tho American eagle.
"Bless me, if here isn't one of the
twenty-five million canes that have been
turned out of the Mount Vernon
□factory. It is marked 'From the
gravo ot Woshingtoul' And this fellow
wants $2 lor it. What's this? 'F
the Colosseum, Rome.' How's that for
a rock? Here's a rag from the dress of
Marie Antoinette as sho was being led
to execution, and this hard-looking nap
kin in u glass oasc is marked 'dipped iu
the blood of Lady Jane Groy. executed
iu the Tower of Loudon, August 22,
1553.' Vuiuo $3, 1 so<', Now, sir, il
you'll just take a loots at that pile over
there, which 1 haven't cxuinined yet,
you'll see a glass tube, sealed at both
end- 1 , and containing a burnt stick.
Wait a minute und i'll tell you what it
is without reading tho label. It's a
'piece of churred fagot fouud on the
spot where Joan of Arc was burned.'
Au I I thought so; I've seen cords of
them in my day. This is the most
precious lot of played-out relics I've
seeu for some time. Yet there are peo
ple iu tins city who are lookiug for just
such aron les, aud will pay heavily for
them.
"Mauy relio hunters go ;n only for
mementoes, and a precious lot of rub
bish these wemeutoes almost always
w H a muu 1ms a fancy to guther a
flower irom the grave ot Keats, in
Rome, or a few leaves irom Dry burgh
Abbey, aud make up a lit tie album, it
is well enough. But an idiot who goes
around with a hammer clipping off
pieces of famous bridges or churches,
and even gravestones, ought to be sent
to aiunatio asylum. 1 kuow a man who
has a collection of bricks, borne one
guvo him a Babylonian brick one day,
and it set him crazy. The second brick
came from the Old South Church, in
Boston, and tho third from Indepen
dence Hall, Philadelphia. He picked
up enough of them in Rome to build a
chimney with. Two years ago ho got
into trouble iu Pompeii for taking soma
rubbish from there; but when tho au
thorities fouud he only wanted a brick
or two aud was williug to pay well, they
settled amicably. He alwuys carries a
heavy steel-bouud trnuk witn him, and
he aud his peculiar curiosities have
oaused much anxiety among Custom
House officers. He told
day, with greut solemnity, that two of
his valuublo bricks had been broken by
from the Uol
collected the hats of celeb
1
its
or
ed
to
of
by
by
fire
the
this
its
ful
to
be
let
us
ful
tles
to
the other
lURpeotor, O.
of Trajin. aud the other from the
iiue old Rom «u triumphal arch iu Mar
seules. He used to hire men to pull
them out for him while he remained in
a doorway at u oonveuieut distance.
By the way. the old gentleman lost a
box of flue old bricks a year ago; it was
thrown overboard by some sailors, who
thought it was dynamite. It set us that
a stowaway had sorewed the cover off
in the belli f that it contaiued gold. He
confidant of one of the
then made
sailors and persuaded them ihat it
an explosive. They promised him food
for the voyago if he would throw the
bricks into the tea. This collector's
brick from the house of Golumbus was
lost in the same
"The must
tions of useless thiugs I ever suw was
one winch consisted wholly of what
purported to be the bones of celebrated
men. A man who ever gets this mania
is incurable, nud will often go without
the comforts of life to gratify the oraze.
Of course such collections are seldom
hoard of, for tho praotioa of robbing
tly of all the oolleo
graves is dangerous. A Canadian gen
tleman who used to call on
year lor fine 'rattlers'—that's what they
call these cheerful relics— U ld
he got the taste through hearing in his
youth a graphic story about the steal
tiie grave of the
Rev. GeoTge Whitefield, the celebrated
English preacher, who died
a few years beroro the Revolutionary
war. I supposed this Is true. At any
rate Boston was considered at one time
headquarters for dea'ers in first-class
'rattlers.' There is not much call for
them openly, except among colkotors
of morbid articles connected with great
criminals. The Canadian once had a
bitter fight with a fellow collector,who,
visiting him, found iu his possession
the skull of General Kleber, who
assassinated in Odro iu the year 1800.
Now, os the visitor iiad himself pro
cured in 'Egypt, at groat expense, a
skull of the General, the collectors be
came highly excited, ami
wan called iu. Scieuoe decided thut one
of the skulls contained a piece of in
tegument whose chemical changes
proved it to be considerably less than
six years old, while the formution of
the oilier not only showed a decided
Egyptian origin, but omtaiued the
teeth of a per sou of twenty years.
Kleber was about fifty. But the fun
niest part of it, though 1 did not dare
laugh over it when the report
made, was that one of the collectors
had been cherishing the skull of a
woman.
''It is very singulur how easily relio
hunters may do fooled. Ntither of
those two men would buy any of the
religious relics so common in Europe.
But take almost any kind of a bone,
boil it oureluily to take the fat out, dry
it for several days by gentle heat in
oven, aud color it yellow with tumeric
and Vandyke brown, ami you have a
fair basis lor a dicker with the beat of
the relio hunters. The inscription must
be very carefully made on old vellum,
and odu private marks, partially obliter
ated, must appear hero and there on
the bone. Borne dealers
of a mineral acid aud water on parts of
the bone, to mukc them crumble easily
The articles must be kept iu heavy
glass cases made for them, and, it
mounted, must show costly work. The
price asked must be large, anil rigidly
adhered to. These devices may appear
immoral, but it is better to use tuem
than to rob a grave.
'•Of course most uf the relic hunters
aim to get a general collection. They
will take a bottle oi water from the
River Jordan; a piece of rotten stone
from Vesuyius, gulf wetd from tho At
a piece ot old bark
from Hyde Park. With uquul calmness
they will break a pieoe of stone from a
statue or a public building; they would
eteal a great man's hairbrush, or split
off a pieoo of mahogauy from bis writ
ing-table. A list ot their varied collec
tions would be very long for the aver
age compass of a man's life. Even the
specialists would make u tremendous
list. 1 have knewu men who took a
shell or a pebble from every well-known
beach they ever vhited or mountain
they ever ascended. One of them had
a stone from the streets of every import
ant city iu Europe. The number ol
03llectors of pipes is quite large. A
Brooklyn minister bud u haudsomo col -
lection of meerschaums. I kuew
gentleman who oared for nothing but
old clocks, aud auother who had be
tween three and lour hundred old
fashioned eye-glasses and spectacles.''
twice
til It
ing of a bone fr
Boston
nuutomist
a mixture
1 antic ocean,
ie Opeu Fireplace.
If there were no other thing in the
esthetic renaissance to be thankful for
its restoration of fireplaces to our homes
would entitle it to respectful considera
tion. Opon fires have more than an
esthetic influence. As centres for the
home circle or family semi circle that
forms them, and as disseminators of
cheerfulness and content, it may be
claimed that they serve an ethic pur
pose. The snapping, fragrant back log,
or the genial glow of cannel coal, nnipll
ed in limpid flames of blue, dispose one
to profitable reflections, to generous and
sympathetic feelings, and to a placidity
of mind that was for a time supposed
by the rushing public of tho nineteenth
century to be one of the lost arts.
Gassy furnaces, cast iron stoves, and
such poor pretexts as kerosene and gas
radiators can never impart more than
physical w'armth, Mentae caloric aud
those airy fancies, delicate as the flames
that give them cause, are not evolved
by hugging stoves and sitting over
registers. The cheerful effect of visible
fire gives it decorative value, and it is
doubtless for this reason that appro
priate settings for irons and grates have
recently invited the attention of archi
tects and designers. Fires were almost
the solo decorations, if they may be so
regarded, of early settler's homes in
this country, and many an old farmhous
would be dismal enough to-day, but for
its cosy hearth, the .focus of family
heart warmth. Yet a certain severe
beauty was seen in many of these fire
places of yore, and such beauty as they
possessed is very justly perpetuated.
Their brass furnishing was a more taste
ful concession to the appropriate than
might have been looked for among the
early New Englanders, for brass ap
proximate« more nearly to flame, in
color and brightness than any other
metal. The glitter of the flames was
cheerfully repeated also in rows of
pictured tile, the religious austerity of
whose designs was odd when seen in
contrast with a rousing fire that ought
to melt austerity out of any company.
Even when it flashes from a rude
cavern of brick and mortar, a fire may
be regarded as the eye of an apartment,
giving cheer and animation to what
might else be cold and lifeless. It
naturally attacts the human eye, aud is
therefore a fitting spot about which to
group objects of attractiveness and
beauty. Antiquity of decoration is not
amiss, so the designs be cheerful, but
let not admiration for antiquity betay
us into admiring antiquity for its own
sake. Select what is beautiful and_
ful in it, for a catholic spirit is the
spirit of the time, but do not, as one
house owner of my acquaintance has
done, hang the ancestral pots and ket
tles upon a crane over the drawing
room fire, showing them complacently
to visitors as things to respect.
a
lu 'Frisco.
.Let us now cross the line and step
down among the great mass of human
ity, of which "society" forms such a
small though self-sufficient part. Cali
fornia is a paradise for the laboring as
well a* for the lazy—it might be said
lor the poor as well as for the rich, if it
were not that poverty, unless it be
voluntary, is unknown. Intemperance,
if it mav so be called has taken a step
upward toward temperance in San
Francisco; and it is gratifying for the
philanthropist if not for the fanatic, to
notice that the people are beginning to
forsake villainous whisky for their own
product of the vine. At places of
popular resort on the bay and at the
seashore, wine and beer gardens prevail,
while whisky is In comparative moder
ate request. Sunday is a quiet day in
San Francisco. Its quiet is not puri
tanical, while church-going in the
morning is as common as in a New
England city. The forenoons may be
said to be American and the afternoons
French or German. It is then that the
whole population of all classes, satisfied
with having done its duty, seems bent
upon taking its reward. The favorite
drive is to the park, about four miles
from the business part of the town.
Out of deference to a habit of calling
things by their wrong names the bushes
shall be called trees, although
is forced to lie down to get in their
shade. But it is something whereof to
boast, tbat this shrubbery has been
made to grow upon a barren, sandy soil,
improved by irrigation aud transporta
tion of loam. If the tall elms and
umbrageous oaks of Central Park are
wanting, the perennial floral display is
an ample compensation. When the
railroad to the Cliff on the seashore is
completed, as it will be in a few weeks,
another easy and cheap excursion will
be added to the many that already
abound. Fifteen cents is all the
required for an afternoon's "paseo."
Five of it goes for a ride on that
admirable invention, tho cable car,
which the Chinaman describes as "no
pushee, no pulee, go likellee," five for
entertainment at the end ot the four
mile stretch, and five for the return.
As we went with the crowd one Sunday
afternoon on an open side-banked car, a
poor Italian with his wife and four
children got on at a crossing. The
whole group were in gala dress, their
faces clothed with radiant smiles as
they chattered like parrots and broke
out into song like nightingales. They
threw a light upon the whole car load,
and in their happiness every one of us
became joyful. The car stopped at the
next crossing to take on another poor
man whose sad countenance denoted
misery. The little Italians ceased their
mirth and looked upon him with pity,
and the
seemed to set upon us all.
So we rode on for a few blocks till the
stopped again and the wretched
millionaire alighted, and limped to the
gate leaning to his stately abode. Then
the cloud lifted, the little choristers
again took up their song, all were
merry once more, aud no one who had
ten cents in his pocket cared to be rich.
Better than all paints and powders
for the complexion, says a fashion
writer, is plain, coarse food, bran, or
oatmeal baths and the wet mask. The
last named remedy for a coarse skin is
perhaps the simplest and best if one
has patience to try it. A mask of
white cotton is made to cover the face,
leaving openings for the nostrils and
eyes. It should be thick, of many folds,
and of some material that will retain
water. Put this on the face just before
retiring, and if i>ossible keep it
night and keep it as wet as possible.
This wet mask keeps the air away from
the skin and give it some time to
soften. The outer cuticle wears off in
time and a fine smooth skin takes its
place, but it takes from six to eight
weeks to perform this task.
The reason the skin on the face Is
oftentimes the coarsest of any portion
of the body is because it is more
exposed to the air, and to more sudden
changes of atmosphere. A woman who
would have very fine skin must wear a
veil moat of the time, especially in this
climate. However, the skin may be
kept soft, clear and fine without a veil
if proper
Warm water is the beet to wash the
hands in, but never do so just before
going out in the cold air, for such a
process roughens the skin. Every night
the whole body should bo washed in
tepid water, aud the face in as hot
water as can be used. The hot water
opens the pores of the skin and takes
away a great deal of the natural oil,
besides tightening the skin, and thus
keeping it firm.
After this washing in warm water,
an application of oatmeal and water,
all night, softens the skin and
tends to* whiten it. A handful of
coarse oatmeal should be put on soak in
a bowl of water a few hours before
useing. A bowl may last three or four
evenings. The hands should always be
washed in the oatmeal water.
Bran is aiTexcellent article for soften
ing aud whitening the skin, and a bran
batti should be taken at least once a
week. Place the bran in little thin
muslin bags, and drop in the bath-tub
to soak about two hours before using.
all
is taken.
left
In making roosts for fowls let them
be level and on a line, if they are so
arranged as to have some of them high
aud others low, tho fowls will mowd to
gether on the higher perches, leaving
the lower ones unoccupied,which is not
only a waste of space but a cause of
feet und other ailments, as the
heavier fowls oannot easily get on or
off the perches when they
high. Tue lower they are ihe Getter,
provided the coops are ventilated at
the top and warm and dry near the
very
The utility of virtue la^so plain that
tho unprincipled feign it from policy.
xke Watch Trad« In Eu lai
a
Fcrty years ago people wno wanted
accurate aud reliable watches bought
them of English manufacture. They
were not an elegant article, but they
were substantial and serviceable ; and
those who carry them still, or to whom
they have come as a legacy, do not find
that the lapse of years has impaired
their value as timepieces. Within a
generation, however, the centre of the
trade has shifted, and while millions
are now annually turned out in Swit
zerland, Fiance and the United States,
the yearly product in England is but
180.000, or 10,000 less than it was a cen
tury ago. The decline of the trade in
England is distinctly due to the fact
that while Swiss and American manu
facturers have availed themselves of
new methods and tools, the English
still employ those of a hundred years
since. A recent article in the London
Times points out the defects of the Eng
lish system :
"English watches are not made in
sufficient quantities to justify the pro
duction on a large scale of any ono par
ticular type the trade is for the most
part in the hands of 'small men,' who
make certain sizes in dozens and half
dozens. In the Swiss and American
factories a particular type, if it be con
sidered worth making, is made by thou
sands ; everything is organized for pro
duction on a large scale. Confining the
contrast to English and American
methods, the principal point upon
which it is necessary to insist is that in
America the 12 or 14 trades which con
stitute watch-making are aggregated
under one roof and form one compact
organization. By the older method
still pursued in England, and until re
cently almost the rule in Switzerland,
the different parts are transported from
one workshop to another in different
»Quarters of the town, and even from
one part of the country to another.
Under the new method the maximum
of efficiency and individual responsi
bility is obtained by the minute subdi
vision of every process ; the loss of
time in the transfer from one depart
ment to another is so minimized as to
lie practically non-existent. In the
United States one company alone
ploys a capital of £400,000, and with
2,300 hands produce 200,000 watches
annually—an autput equal to the entire
English trade. There are no official
returns of Swiss manufacture, but the
best authorities estimate its growth
during the past five years at 1,000,000
watches, the total standing to-dav at
3.500.000. Besancon, the centre of the
French trade, shows an equally re
markable progress. During the five
years 1845-9 the average annual pro
duction of watches in France was 47,
800 ; it now exceeds half a million.
About 90 per cent, of the watches made
in France come from Besancon."
Tho extraordinary growth in the
manufacture of watches indicates a cor
responding increase in the demand.
During the past five years, indeed,
while the manufacture of English
watches has stood still, the importation
of foreign watehes into England has
fluctuated between £400,000 and £500,
000. as against £180,000 in 18G7. Much
of the demand, no doubt, arises from
the fact that the new method employed
iu the manuf acture of watches enables
them to be sold at so much lower price
than formerly ; but it must be regarded
• in a large degree due also to an in
creased pecuniary ability among the
masses. Not only has the cost of the
manufactured article come down, but
the means of the people have gone up.
Watches are no longer considered a
luxury, and the poorest citizen flatters
himself upon the accuracy of his time
piece.
In E ugland efforts are being made to
recover the trade which has been lost,
undertaking which is the more diffi
cult because of the jealousies and sepa
rations which prevail ainopg the vari
ous departments of tho business.
Nevertheless, a plant of machinery for
-the production of stem-winders has
been established in London ; an Ameri
can plant has been put down in Birm
ingham for the manufacture ofJxith
key and stem-winders ; a second firm
in Birmingham is working an organiza
tion for the production or the ordinary
English watch in demand in the Colo
nies ; aud in Coventry modern treat
ment has been grafted on an old-estab
lished business and is working side by
side with old methods of manufacture.
Testing
■'I Stomach.
A United States Senator who is fond
of a joke had been initiated into the
mysteries of an alleged caramel, which
one of the boys of his hotel had invent
ed for the purpose of making miserable
the lives of other children. The
Senator owed Garland, of Arkansas,
one, and saw his opportunity. He pro
cured some of the alleged sweets and
placed them carefully on his desk. The
game succeeded. Garland spied the
deceptive chocolates, and, carelessly
sauntering by, picked up one of them
and said: "What are these, Senator?"
"They are caramels. Take one."
,'Thank you, I will," and he took one,
Now, the caramel was filled with soap,
and the jokers expected to see Garland
spit out the nauseous stuff. That was
where the laugh was to come in. But
Garland disappointed them. He ate up
the whole thing, soap and all, and
never made a sign. The perpetrator
became frightened and ran out into the
cloakroom, exclaimed: "Good Lord!
I'm afraid the
's poisoned.'' "Oh,
you needn't be alarmed," said Butler,
of South Carolina: "Garland's got an
Arkansas stomach.
To this day no
one knows whether Garland tasted the
not
soap
As charity covers a multitude of sins
before God, so does poiiteuess before
men,