The Delaware ledger., March 01, 1884, Image 1

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

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VOLUME YI1.
KEWAIIK, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, MARCH 1, 1884.
NUMBER 11.
L1VK.
Life is
That Beemg a moment to enshroud
The bright. Immortal spirit,
Then fades away,
Nor leave«
We now inherit.
Life is a dream of gaudy
Where many a brilliant objeot glows
In soft delusive brightness,
Till oolor fhdee,
And all its shades
Blend into whiteness.
unsubstantial cloud,
™ V
shows,
The Christian's life Is not a dream,
evanescent gleam.
But 'tla
Which, like the hues
Fades soft away,
And its last ray
Is lost in heaven.
?
AT UNCLK PAUL'S
"There," said Juliet Garland, impa
tiently, "I can't wear these kid gloves
again by any possibility. They've been
once to the cleaner's and I've done them
myself twice with bread-crumbs I"
She sat In the deep window seat, her
bright hair streaked with morning sun
shine, her blue eyes sparkling with vex
ation, while a pair o 4 very much de
moralized kid gloves, of the palest prim
rose tint, lay in her lap.
And Dora, her younger sister, looked
listlessly up from the pile of music she
was turning
blonde blossoms of humanity.
"Why don't you gat yourself a new
pair?" said she. "Oh, dearl There
isn't a'Bong here that is not a hundred
yearn old. 'Juanita.' Her bright
smile,' 'Beautiful daisies,' and all that
sort of thing. Rosie must get some
thing that isn't coeval with the ark.
IIow Is a girl to—"
"Why don't I get myself another
pair?'' sharply cross-questioned Juliet.
"Because I liaven't any money—that is
the reason!"
"It's so dreadful to be poorl" sighed
plump, pretty Dora, contemplating her
pink finger-tips; and at the same mo
ment Mrs. Templeton, the married
blonde of the family, came In with a
worn look upon her face.
"More bills," said she. "Oh, girls
what will Frank say? Stefani'has act
ually had the hardihood to charge
seventy-five dollars for that little lunch
we gave to Mrs. Atwood and her son.
And Madame Cherimont's account is
eighty-nine, and I'm positively afraid
to open tbe florist's bill."
"Then it's no use asking for more
kid gloves at present," said Juliet, dis
consolately.
"Nor music," added Dora, with a
shrug of her shoulders.
Mrs. Templeton burst into tears.
"I declare, " said she, "I'm discour
aged. And you girls are always teas
ing for something or other, and Frank
is so cross whenever we exceed the reg
ular allowancel"
—another of the bright
"Crying will do
good," said Dora,
who was evidently the philosopher of
the family. "But what is that letter in
your lap, Rosie?"
"Oh, that!" said Mrs. Templeton, "is
from Uncle Paul. I declare. Stefani's
bill upset me so that I forgot all about
it. He wants one of you girls to come
up to the Maine Camp and keep house
for him. It's somewhere on the line of
the Rangeley Lakes. I believe owls
and whip-poor-wills thrown in. Come,
girls, which of you will volunteer?"
Juliet gave a little shriek of dismay.
Dora elevated her pink, cushiony hands.
But a third sister who had been silently
mending the flounces of a pink silk skirt,
in an obscure corner looked up.
"Is Uncle Paul really in earnest?"
said she. "Then I'll go."
x "Gladys!" cried all three of the
others, in different accents of amaze
ment, reproach and Incredulity.
Gladys Garland rose up, flung aside
the soft billows of pink silk that cum
bered her lap, and came out into the
light. Of all the sisters, she was per
haps the loveliest and the most deter
mined.
"Why not?" said she. "Do you
thiuk 1 am particularly in love with
this sort of life? I declare, there have
been times withiu the last month when
I've felt inclined to go for a servant
maid, or look up a situation as factory
hand. Jrat consider, girls—the dress
I wear isa't paid for; the milliner is
always sending her girl around with
bills. I can't go on this street nor on
that, for fear of meeting some one who
will ask me for the money that I hon
estly owe them. Rosie, like a darljpg
that she is, keeps giving parties and
lunches and morning musicales, to try
and get us well married. Frank, poor
lellow, is working beypnd his strength,
to give his wife's sisters a fair chance;
but it isn't a bit of use. See how we
all hang fire. Now I don't know about
Julie and Dora, but I, for one, am tired
of being put up in the world's window.
'For sale 1* Yes, I'll goto Uncle Paul»"
"But," gasped Mrs. Templeton,
"what will society say?"
"What it pleases," Gladys answered.
"Society don't settle my boot-bill, nor
provide me with pocket-money."
"Gladys," said Juliet, remonstrating*
ly, "I think you are crazy I"
"Because I am emancipating myself
from slavery? But you know, Julie,
cannot see where all this is to end."
"What will Mr. Mandevillt say?"
demurely questioned Dora, with a sly,
sidelong glance at her sister.
He will say," Gladys stoutly answer
ed, "that there is one fortune-hunter
the less in the ranks. "
"Gladys, how can you speak so
coarsely?" said Juliet, not without in
dignation.
"Is it coarse?" said Gladys. "It is
the simple truth. Mr. Mandeville is
very handsome and agreeable, but I
don't think he will miss me after the
first evening or two. Oh, there are too
many Peris in this Paradise! And poor,
good, patient Frank, he will have one
less to provide for. "Yes, I'll go with
Uncle Paul."
"You may as well commit suicide at
once,'' said Juliet.
"You'll never marry in that wilder
ness," said Mrs. Templeton.
"There are nineteen old maids in this
block," said Gladys. "We counted
them yesterday, Dora and I. Do you
suppose there are nineteen old maids on
I^ake Molechunkamunk?"
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Templeton.
"And besides," addej Gladys, the
aughter fading from her eyes, "is it
really the end and aim of all female hu
manity to get married? Why shouldn't
1 be an old maid as well as another? Do
you think I shouldn't survive it? Wait
and see!"
Gladys Garland had definitely made
up her mind on the subject. Within
three days she had purchased a pair of
thick boots, a blue flannel suit, and a
poke bonnet of rough straw, trimmed
with blue ribbons, and gone out to Lake
Molechunkamunk.
Uncle Paul was glad to see her. He
didn't live in a wigwam, as she had al
most taught herself to believe, but own
ed a pretty little lodge in this vast wil
derness, shaded with forest trees, and
embowered with blue cupped morning
glories.
He was civilized, and did not assas
sinate English grammar like the cham
pion hunter in the dime novels. And
he had provided a pretty little boudoir
for her, whose pink mosquito-netting
set the black dies and gnats at defiance
and an exquisite engraving of the Ma
donna di San Sisto hung over the broad
mantle.
•'Oh, I think 1 shall be quite, quite
happy here," said Gladys, as she sat in
a little boat where the drooning boughs
of the hazel bushes made blots of sha
dow on the glittering lake, and read
while Uncle Paul fished
"Don't regret any of the New York
cavaliers, eh?l" said Uncle Paul.
And Gladys stoutly answered:
"No!"
But afterward she asked herself, had
she told the whole truth?
"If Darrell Mande ville chooses to
marry Miss Dorrance, let him," she
thought. 1 shall never pursue any man.
Let other girls do as they think fit."
That very afternoon, however, when
she returned from a loug ramble in the
woods, with her straw hat full of black
berries, she found the little lodge
pied.
"I am sorry to take you thus uneere
monious'y by storm," said a handsome,
middle-aged gentleman, who looked to
be what he was, a Wall street broker
come out into the wilderness for bis
summer vacation. "But my friend has
fallen over a cliff and broken his leg,
and this was the nearest point of shel
ter within a range of seven miles. Per
haps your husband will excuse us, if—"
"But it isn't my husband," said Gla
dys, composedly depositing the berries
on the table. "It is my Uncle Paul.
He is fishing, up the lake. But if he
were here, lie would say, as I do that
you are very welcome. Where is the
l>oor man? I am not much of a sur
geon, but—"
She stopped abruptly. There, lying
on the little chintz covered lounge, his
pallid face supported by cushions, lay
—Mr. Darrell Mandeville.
of
of
a
is
so
in
is
is
I
too
"Miss Garland!" he exclaimed.
"I
am so glad!"
"Mr. Mandeville," she uttered, in
the same breath, "1 am so sorryj"
"Because I have drifted here, of all
places in the world I" he pleaded.
so badly hurt!"
"Because you
faltered Gladys, with the tears coming
into her eyes.
"I knew you were somewhere in this
region," he said. "In fact, Miss Gla
dys, I was looking for you. But I didn't
expect to find you just now and thus, I
thought—"
And then he closed his eyes; a deadly
pallor crept across his face.
"I think lie has fainted,'
Wall street broker.
said the
And just then Uncle Paul came in—
Uncle Paul, who was a bom chirurgeon,
and who understood all the healing se
crets of the glen apd forest—and Gla
dys heaved a deep sigh of relief. It
would all be right now.
A broken leg is no joke, especially in
the back woods, where splints have to
be manufactured out of the most in
congruous material, and arnica cannot
be had short.of twe've miles.
Mr. Mandeville made hut a slow con
valescente, yet he did not appear to re
gard the detention as unpleasant. The
Wall street broker went back to his
stocks and bonds.
"I think we could easily get you to
Andover," he had said, wistfully. "And
a parlor-car from there—"
"Oh, hang your parlor-cars!" said
Mr. Mandeville. impetuously. "I am
doing very well where I am now."
"Ohl" said the Wall street broker, a
sudden light of comprehension irradia
ting his dull brain. "Oh, in that case,
1 may as well leave you to your late
It's the old story of Ulysses and the
Sirens over again."
Mrs. Templeton caino into the room
where Dora and Juliet were remodeling
their white dresses for a theatre para
the Casino,
flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
"Girls," she cried, "what do you
think? Gladys is engaged!"
"To some buffalo hunter?" said Dora,
scornfully.
"No!" said Rosie. "To Mr. Mande
ville. He lias been up there for a
mouth—at Lake Molechunkamunk."
Juliet dropped her work.
"Impossible!" she cried. "Gladys
engaged up in those wildernesses, while
Dora and I are left to wither on the
stem down here in New York I Aud to
Darrell Mandeville, too—the best match
of the season!"
"Things do turn out so straugelyl"
said Mrs. Templeton, reflectively.
September day, with
And Gladys, the predestined old maid
of the family, was the first to be mar
ried, after all.
"Gladys always was lucky!" said her
two sisters.
Life ln th« City Sewers.
Jerry Bams has been in the employ
of some
of the Highway Depart
ment contractors in Philadelphia for
thirty of his sixty years. During this
time he has been engaged almost exclu
sively in the repair of sewers. At least
one-quarter of his life has been spent
under the cobblestones. Through long
association with things oozy and reptil
ian Jerry bus gained himself a some
what oozy and reptilian aspect, llis
eyes are bleared. They look closely
down each side of his nose, which is
long and seems to overlap his retreating
chin. There were traces of sewer mud
on the bottom of his trowseis as he
stood in the court-yard of the Public
Buildings in that city recently. Per
haps there
dampness about him. Perhaps his ap
pearance only suggested It.
Jerry's life having been spent in sew
ers, Jerry's idea is that a great sewer is
the noblest of earthly creations. He
gloated over the building of the big Se
cond street sewer aud rejoiced at the ex
cavation of the subterranean Schuylkill
on Girard avenue. These things seem
ed greater to him than the long-promised
completion of the Post Office or the
erection of the P
atmosphere of sewer
Square sarcopha
gus. His life is a dream of sewers.
When the great Parisian sewers were
exploited and illustrated with pictures
of parties boating through them and
later on of Gardes Mobile watching,
with fixed bayonets, the advent of Prus
sian spies and jabbing for fun and a
fricassee the sewer rats, Jerry's eyes
stuck out with delight, envy and incre
dulity. Lately the desire of his life has
been to visit the great new Boston sew
era.
Jerry has met and vanquished strange
foes in the substrata. He is a slimy 8t.
George with a great many dragons.
The lesser ot these, the small fry of
blind lizzards and big rats, that he
meets daily in his underground rambles
be cares little for, save wlien a troop of
the latter grow bold enough, as they
did last full, to drive him up a Dela
ware avenue manhole. He has had one
experience, however, which he told on
Saturday for the thousandth time per
haps.
Back in '59, when it happened, the
Callowhill street sewer was clogged In
a nasty bend near Seventh street. Res
idents of 1 he neighborhood told strange
stories of the noises that came up
through the waste-pipes, and all roman
tic minds imagined the presence of
escaped prisoner in the sewer. That
there were something strange in the
place was evident to the workman who
opened the trap for Jerry to go down.
Most of the noise was splashing and
slopping. The escaped prisoner idea
gained ground.
"Though
one," said Jerry, "could
tell where he'd escaped from, unless it
was the Morgue at the foot of Noble
street."
Jerry went down with his candle. He
same back without it.
"I threw the dip into the thing's
jaws and climbed up in the divil's own
hurry," he said. How to get the alli
gator, for such it was, out to the sewer,
was the next question. Someone thought
of angling for it with a roast of beef,
hut Jerry knew that the menster must
have grown up in the place and that he
would therefore be blind. Finally the
bright Idea occurred that resilience in
a sewer ought not to destroy the sense
of smell if it did that of sight. A very
rank piece of beef was accordingly let
down.
"Whether he smelled that or not 1
don't know," said Jerry, "but after I'd
laid for him for about two hours with a
gun, he slragg^d under the manhole
and I popped him. He was about half
grown. The news spread all over town,
and pretty soon along came a seafaring
vith tire in his eye. D—n ye,' sez
he 'what'd ye kill my alligator for?'
"It turned out that the sailor chap
lived down near the foot of Willow
street and had a lot of young alligators
that he'd brought back from Florida in
tub in his hack yard. This one escaped
and came up the sewer, likin' the slime,
I s'pose 4 and lookin' for pickaninnies.
I s'pose he lived on lizzards. Anyway,
this sailor man was mad as blazes and
said that if we'd sent tor him he'd coax
ed the brute up the manhole."
Jerry rid the neighborhood of Seven
teenth aud Spring Garden streets once
of a worse pest than an alligator. This
was a polecat that had been depreciat
ing valuable property in the neighbor
hood for about a month in the summer
of 1880. He lived in the sewer and
eame out of an inlet at night.
"1 croaked him just as he stuck his
nose into tbe moonlight one evening,"
said Jerry.
The sewer rats are said to be friends
of Jerry. In the heavy sewer freshet of
September, 1882, hundreds of these
animate were drowned. Contractor
Armstromg pays that Jerry buried them
all in Delaware mud and has never been
the same man since.
A four year-old child complained to
her mother that her '•button-shoes" were
hurting." "Why, Mattie, you've put
them
ready to cry, she made answer.
"What'll I do, mamma? They 's ail the
feet I've got I"
"Yes," said # Dadofallowski, "I al
ways think of a physio.an when I
one of those horrid gin mixtures."
"Makes you sick?" "Oh. no, but it's a
fizz I shun- "
Cheery passenger— "Any fear o' my
distuibmg the raagnetio currents, oap
tain, by goin' near the compass?" Cap
tain—"Ob no, sir. Brass has
on it whatever, sir.''
the wrong feel 1" Puzzled and
effect
Awaiting lila ln«Titat>le Fate.
Silos Rohrbaober, ot Hnnter's Runge,
Luzerne oounty, Pa., has sold his prop
erty and removed to another county
because of his superstition that the
slayer of a white deer is sure to die
meet some other misfortune.
soon
Rohrbacher and his son discovered a
white doe in the woods on Tuesday of
last week. It was lying prostrate
the ice and unable to gain a hold by
which it might recover its footing.
Rohrbaoher resolved to rescue the deer
from its position and at the same time
give it a place of security until the
snow had melted in the woods. Hie
sen went home and returned with
empty feed bag ana two pieces of rope.
Tbe bag was drawn over the doe's head
and her feet were tied with the ropes.
She was then lifted and Carried to Rohr
baeher's clearing, where it was turned
loose in the cattle qhed with a cow and
a yoke of steers. It soon became re
conciled to its position, and fed with the
cattle.
On Thursday last Rohrbaoker went to
ihe shed to throw down hay to his cat
tle. As ho opened the door a gust of
wind caught it aud throw it wide open.
The doe caught a glimpse of the woods
through the open door and sprang
towards it. As the deer went past him,
Rohrbacker mechanically raised tbe
long-tiued hay-fork he bad in his bauds
and thrust it at the deer. The tines
struck it In the side, aud were buried
to the handle in its body. The tines
broke oil us the deer leaped out of the
door and remained in its side. The doe
jumped tbe high log feuce around the
cow-vard, and run for a hundred yards
down the road, when it staggered to
side aud tell heavily on the snow.
Rohrbacher ran to the spot and found
the doe dead. Almost crazed, he hur
ried away to where some choppers were
at work in the woods, aud told them
what had happened, and said that he had
sealed bis doom. One of the men took
the deer's body iuto the woods, removed
the skin and threw the caroass in a
swamp, the meat being unfit for ford at
this time. The skin was sold for $10.
Two days later Rohrbacker left the
neighborhood.
White deer are exceedingly rare, not
re than a dozen having been seen in
the mountains of this region. They
are always does and are said to be
larger than th? red doe. The last one
killed in Northern Pennsylvania pre
vious to the above mentit .ntd one
shot by three hunters in 1872. and the
believers in the white deer superstition
refer to that killing as a positive proof
of their b» lief. The hunters were
Hornbeck Shinier of Wilkesbarre, Ohas.
Haney of Luzerne oouuty, and Lyman
S. Be vans of Port Jervis, N. Y. They
started the white deer on the Sliobola
creek and each shot at it and hit it,
killing it. Shinier at that time was
proprietor of the Exchange Hotel at
Wilkesbarre, wealthy and the picture
of health, ttevuus was a prominent
merchant in his town ami Haney
wub laigely interested in ooul mining
Shinier died a bankrupt after a painful
and lingering sickness a both a year
afterwaid, Bevans la led in business
and blew out his brains and Haney
died Irom small pox, a poor
al ne.
is
is
a
of
he
of
on
In
up
and
(loluulgr.
Fri
Will the world ever get over the idea
that Fl i<lay is an unlucky cay? That
more than can be proved. But admit
ting all that is claimed, there have been
many events occurring on this unlucky
deeidedly the reverse of
unlucky. Of course, a long list might be
given, but a few, connected chiefly with
American history, will do. On Friday,
August 3, 1492, Columbus sailed fiom
Palos, on his memorable voyage of dis
covery, aud on Friday, October 12th,
he discovered the first land, the island
which he calhd San Salvador.
Friday, March 5, 1490, Henry VIII
commissioned John Cabot, and this
commission is the first English state
paper on record concerning America.
On Friday, September 7,18U5, St. Aug
ustine, Fla., was founded—the oldest
town in the United States. On Friday,
November 10, 1020, the "Mayflower"
made land at Piincetown, and on the
same day the Pilgrims signed the com
pact which
constitution. On Friday, December 22,
1020, the Pilgrims lauded at Plymouth
Rock. On Friday, February 22, 1732,
Washington was born. On Friday,
October 10, l'<75, Bunker Hill was
seized and fortifie I. On Friday, Oc
tober 8, 1777, occurred the surrender at
Saratoga. On Friday, September 25,
1780, Arnold's treason was discovered.
On Friday, October 19,1781, Cornwal
lis surrendered at Y orktown, and the
war for independence ended in com
plete victory. Other events might be
named. In the war witli Mexico the
battle of Palo Alto began on Friday.
The northwestern boundary question,
which threatened war witli England,
settled on Friday of the same year.
On Friday the Confederates captured
Fort Sumter, pud precipitated the war
for the Union. The Port Royal forts
were taken by the Union forces on
Friday; the battle of Pea Ridge closed
on Friday, slavery yas abolished in the
District of Columbia on Friday; Fort
Pulaski was taken, Memphis was taken,
Fredericksburg bombard ad, the battle
of Gettysburg was ended, Lee defeated
at Five Forks, the Union flag restored
to Fort Sumpter, all on Friday.
it
day that
He
he
the
in
let
1
I'd
a
sez
in
of
On
the forerunner of our
An earnest effort is being made in
England to secure funeral reform.
There is a Church of England Funeral
and Mournitg Reform Association,
headedjbythe Archb shops of Canterb'iry
and York, and a recent circular letter
issued by it points out three reasons for
reform, viz.: the growth of a mistaken
idea of death through the long-establish
ed mourning and funeral observances:
the need of an organization to give mor
al support to those who otherwise could
not withstand the tyranny of custom or
fashion; the extravagance and waste
occasioned among the poorer classes by
the ambition to have pompous and cost
ly funerals. All these reasons, it need
hardly tie said, are as applicable in this
country as in England, aud a funeral
reform association would be welcomed
here by a ll sensible people.
a tailor, anxious to get uie views
of the press on the subject, wrote to
different editors, asking: "Wliat do you
think of knee-breeches? Would you ob
jeot to appearing in them?" O
ply, filled with bitter indignation, he
discovered owed its vonomoua spirit to
«he fact that the writer waa a woman.
to
al
a
my
re
«'•lort
Natuie.
Anyone attending a zoological garden
or noticing any large collection of ani
mate is at once struck by the variety of
colors, both of plumage and hide or
skin. Some animate are highly colored ;
others have hues sombre and dark.
What ia the reason of this? Why
animate colored differently? What is
the use of any coloring? These questions
can only be answered by a consideration
of the habits of the various animate,
the means provided for their obtaining
food, and the weapons they have for
defense 1 The coloring of animate is,
to a large extent, protective. It
enables animate to hide from their
enemies, who would otherwise ex
tinguish their species; and in other in
stances, where they have means of
defence that warn other animate to
keep away, they are highly colored, so
that other animate are warned to give
them a wide berth. For instance—
rats, mice, hats and moles, which seek
for food at night, are dark, of duäky
hues, while in the light of day they
conceal themselves in their holes. Yet
the polecat, which is a nocturnal
animal, has much white about it, and a
large white tail, which it carries erect;
but the horrible odor it omits makes it
universally dreaded, and its conspicuous
white tail is a signal flag to all car
nivorous animate not to attack it; and
they seldom do.
All the bears in the world are either
black
which is white. So are most of the
animate of the polar region white—that
is, about the same color as the snow
and ice they inhabit; which similarity
of coloring is a means of protection
from their enemies, inasmuch as they
are not so readily seen. Perhaps the
musk ox, or the musk sheep, which is
of a dark brown color, would seem an
exception, but the habits of the animal
axplain this. They are gregarions, live
in flocks, and this is their means of
protection; hence, if one strays from
the flock, it is necessary that they be of
a dark, color, so that he can see his
comrades at a distance; The raven is
black, yet inhabits the regions of snow
and ice; but he feeds on carrion, and
has no enemies that think his body fit
food. Arihed insects are highly colored
—such as wasps and bees. Their very
high coloring shows what they are, and
their poison protects them.
Some insects have so very hard a
covering that they are practically un
eatable; these are frequently highly
colored. Others can fly rapidly, and
this is a protection, so they are given a
gaudy coloring, like the swift-flying
rose chafer. Butterflies are gayly color
ed, but they are unlit for eating; even
when given to young turkeys, they spit
them out. Insects arè often found on
trees and leaves which are the exact
color of the food they seek This is a
protection.
The voice of the tree-toad is heard
before the rain, yet so exactly is he the
color of the limbs
that it is hard to find him. Green
caterpillars feed on green leaves, and
their food serves to hide them from
their enemies. Certain insects called
loopors can stick themselves out rigidly
like sticks, which they so much re
semble as to be taken for them. Green
and brown caterpillars are greedily
eaten by birds, and even by frogs, liz
ards and spiders; hence, they generally
feed at night, and during the day
remain motionless upon the leaves or
twigs the color of themselves. Bright
colored caterpillars are discarded by
birds, and always refused by frogs, liz
ards, and spiders, as if they tasted bad
to them. Parrots that live in the dense
foliage or green trees
green, and the birds of high-colore
plumage are tropical, where the colors
of the flowers and shrubs are brilliant.
Birds that abound in the region of
deciduous trees are never green, but
brown
This tint is least perceptible among the
leafless trees and bushes which prevail
for the greater portion of the year
when protection is so much needed.
Thare is a butterfly called orange
tipped; when on the wing he is most
conspicuous, but when in the evening
he rests on the wood parsley, ho can
scarcely be seen, so beautifully do his
colors blend with those of the flower
head of the plant. So that, on the
whole, the gorgeous colors
sombre shades with which various
animals are adorned, while beautiful
have a use to the animal that is not
mere display, but protection as well.
brown except the polar bear.
which he lies,
i ! i \ ; 1 1 I ; 11 11
olive is the prevailing color.
the
The Akas or Ana
A recent expedition against the Akas
of Assam lias recovered from them two
English officiate whom they had cap
tured in one of their raids. Since it
was thought worth while to telegraph
this from Calcutta, it may be worth
while to state who and what the Akas
or Assam are. The foothills and spurs
of tli© Himalayas, on the northern
boundary of India, are inhabited by
many so-called hill tribes, who are. per
haps, aborigines, but certainly are much
less civilized than the dwellers in the
plains. Many of these hill tribes have,
from time immemorial occupied posi
tions analogous to those of the Scottish
Highland clans up to the eighteenth
century. That is to say, they have re
fused allegiance to any of the neighbor
ing potentates, have maintained a sav
age independence, and have subsisted
principally by forays upon the lowlands,
and the "lifting" of cattle. The Bri
tish Government has tor years been en
deavoring to quiet these Indian moss
troopers and border rovers, and has suc
ceeded in engaging one tribe, the Abas,
to act as a sort of irregular police, to
keep the peace of the border. Here,
too, the resemblance to the Highlanders
is borne out, fer similar arrangements
were quite frequently made with border
clans, and their feuds with one another
were always taken advantage of by the
Wardens of the Marches when it was
possible to do so. The Himalayan hill
tribes are very primitive in many re
spects. They are very fond of tobacco,
which they chew like Yankees, and
some of them can only tell the length of
a journey, or the distance between two
places, by estimating the number of
plugs of the weed consumed on the way.
The Akas of Assam are among the most
incorrigible of the professional robbers.
There are two clans of them, designat
ed respectively "the eaters of a thou
sand hearths," and "the the thieves
who lurk In the cotton field." These
suggestive names no doubt express th.
character of the Akas quite faithfully
Mr. Hunter says that they are "fierce,
black, undersized and ill-fed," and they
are the terror and scourge of the low
lands. Hitherto only small expeditions
have been sent against them; but since
they have grown so bold as to kidnap
English officials as well as native cattle,
it is probable that that their subjuga
tion will be seriously undertaken before
long. Among these people, neverthe
less, it is possible that interesting relics
of aboriginal tradition and legend might
be found by patient inquiry, for there
can be no doubt that the hill tribes of
the Himalayas* claim a very remote an
tiquity.
pi
Picture Frames.
"Plush is used to a large extent in
making picture frames," a frame ma
ker said, "especially the smaller frames.
Some are made entirely of it, and some
have borders only. A flat gold leaf
frame, with bands of silk plush next to
the picture, makes a very pretty effect. "
"What colors are most used?"
"Red and old gold. The red, how
ever, seems to be liked better. On the
small easel frames used for photographs
blue is also used. Oil paintings are
rarely put in frames with plush on them.
Engravings, water color pictures, and
painted ohina generally have plush
framing."
"What quality of plush is made
up?"
"Chiefly good silk plush. Some very
common frames are made from cotton
plush, but their inferiority is too pal
pable to deceive any one. Squares of
plate looking-glass with bevelled edges
are set In plush frames. They are large
and small, and there are great numbers
sold. There are large establishments
where hundreds of them are made
daily. They are very showy, and they
set off a room even more than a picture.
I don't beleive that there has ever been
so much plush manufactured as there
is at present. Not only is it used for
frames, but for covers of albums, ladies'
satchels, and lots of other articles. It
is much cheaper, too, than it was."
"Do you think that its use for frames
will be permanent?"
"It's hard to tell. Very lately there
has been a demand for bronze and sil
ver frames. Figured brass frames
seem to be well liked. I have no doubt
that plush will be in fashion for a long
time to come."
Some Mujerttlc Bruton,
The averuge visitor to the zoological
gardens looks over the fence, sees a horn
projecting in a sort of oblique vicious
ness out of the door of a shed, says:
"OhI its only a bull of some sort," and
Sometimes, however, he
stops, for the bull, as he calls it, turns
out to be a very large buffalo, and in a
very bad temper. The truth is that on
the other side of the fence is another
"bull," the sacred zebu of India, who
is also very much out of temper, and
the two animate being just able to sniff
at each other through a chink are tor
mented by a desire to get into the same
enclosure and fight it out. Now, neith
er of them knows what kind of an ani
mal is on the other side of the fence.
The African buffalo has never seen an
Asiatic zebu in all his life. But that
does not matter to either of them. All
they ask for is
and no favor. But as the society has
imported these animate at a large ex
pense, and keeps them at considerable
cost, this is the one boon which the
combative animate should never expect
to have granted. They do not, of course,
understand this. The consequence is
that they make their lives a burden to
themselves by butting aud prodding at
the wooden palings, under the idea, no
doubt, that if they only go on long
enough the pollings will fall and they
will then be able to butt and prod each
other. Each in his way is a great beast
—quite apart from the generous spirit
in which they challenge unknown ad
versaries—and they represent together
one of the noblest families of wild ani
mals. They are the descendants of the
reem, the animal that had such wide
horns that Noah (so the Talmudists say)
could not get it into the ark, and had
to tow it behind—and of the uris,
which Julius Crcsar says was only a tri
fle smaller than the elephant. And to
day they are the brothers of the Ameri
can bison, "the investie brutes that
roam in herds which shake the earth,"
and of the gigantic gore of the Indian
swamps. It is not true that the latter
snuff up chunks of stone with their
noses and then discharge them with the
force of catapults at those who attack
them, but it is beyond doubt that they
have no hesitation whatever in "going
for" anything that stands in front of
them.
fence between them
There aro two conditions necessary
to ail effective sympathy—a kind heart
and delicate perceptions.
The great friend ot truth is time; her
greatest enemy is prejudice, and hu
mility her constant companion.
A deep and profound knowledge of
ourselves will never fail to ourb the
emotions we may feel at the foibles of
others.
Bomanoejn Real Lite.
Some years before ike late war Otis
Burton, a former resident of Bangor,
Maine, left there to seek his fortune m
the West. He drifted to Missouri,
where he met an accomplished young
lady with whom he fell ia love. She
was pleased with him, but before he
made his passion known she moved to
a distant part of the South. About
this time the war broke out and the
two soon lost all traces of each other.
Burton joined the Union Army, and
was soon afterwards wounded, and as
itnwas supposed he would die, a letter
was sent to his mother informing her
that her son could not live. He, how
ever, was blessed with a good constitu
tion and recovered. He went back to
his regiment and was detailed with a
company to take supplies across the
plains. The party was attacked by In
dians and every man in the force ex
cept Burton killed. He was reported
to have been slain with the rest. The
Indians decided to let him live and
took him a prisoner to their retreat in
ti e mountains of the Southwest. He
gradually recovered from the wounds
he had received in the encounter, made
himself agreeable to his captors and
adapted himself to their way of living
After he had been in captivity six
months or more he was allowed more
liberty, and now began to watch for a
chance to escape. The Indians had
stolen a number of ponies, and among
these was one winch Burton's practiced
eye showed him
swift, and gifted with speed and endur
ance. This pony was cared for and
petted by Burton, and, he was al
lowed to ride him. One day he strayed
awajf further than usual, and though
not acquainted with the country, made
a dash for liberty. He was closely
pursued, but the gallant little pony had
the "bottom" for a winning race. He
rode for three days, and then began to
see that he was getting out of the hos
tile country. In the distance he saw a
house which he knew must be inhabi
ted by whites. He shouted with joy,
feeling that he had gained freedom at
last. He knocked at the door of the
house and a surprise awaited him. It
was opened by a women he had loved
in lang syne. He was at once recog
nized and received a hearty w elcome.
Burton told his adventmes and narrow
escapes to a willing listener. She, too,
told her story. She had married a
Confederate officer who was afterward
killed in battle, and alio now owned
the farm she occupied. Is it necessary
to tell the rest? They werp betrothed,
there was a merry wedding, and the
happy couple are now living in a South
west State. Surely in real life are ro
mances as strange and more interesting
than those woven by the fertile brail)
of the novelist.
highly bred,
The Value or Alaska.
Senator Ingalls, of Kansas, is au
thority for the ruthless and sweeping
condemnation of Alaska as "the most
worthless territorial acquisition any
government was ever afflicted with."
It is certain to those who know much
about Alaska that it is not nearly the
"worthless territorial acquisition" that
he brands it. In the first place, Alaska
is very large—larger than all that terri
tory which forty years ago was known
as the "Great American Desert,"
whereof the State of Kansas is a part,
and forty years ago not esteemed more
highly than the Senator now hold«
Alaska. In the second place, Alaska
has very valuable fisheries of salmon,
cod, halibut and king salmon, as yet
but little developed, but enough to in
dicate that in a few years, with a suit
able goyernment for that territory, they
will bo worth as much as those of New
Foundland and Nova Scotia, both for
food supply and the creation of a_
cantile marine on the American coast
of the Pacific. In the third place
Alaska is covered in many parts with
the best forests in the world.
Alaska has mines of gold, copper,
iron and coal, not much developed as
yet, but enough to encourage the hope
that, after the gold mines south of
them in our country shall be exhausted
Alaska will become one of the greatest
producers of this metal In the world.
Its climate is on the coast less rigor
ous than that of Newfoundland, or
Sweden, or Norway, or the Baltic coast
of Russia. There are good reasons for
the belief that wheat can be made a
profitable crop in parts of the Yukon
valley. And the cedars of Alaska are
better and infinitely more inexhaust
able than the famed cedars of Lebanon.
Such a country, covering as it does an
area of more than half a million square
miles, having a long coast line, good
harbors, many habitable islands, mines
i'f the precious and useful metals,
forests without end, fisheries and great
rivers, albeit its depths are as yet un
explored, is not to be condemned out
of hand as the Kansas Senator
demns it.
"Do you know," »aid a u'ort L uooln
driv
mg while out sleigh-riding, "that in
the east tbe other day two young peo
pie were out just as we are, and the
,g the^a»e " » wtldtog* "I
week." Ten minutes later they were
floundering in the suow, but the girl
says it was an accident.
—A citizen of Schenectady, N. Y.,
whose name was published as the recipi
ent of the capital prize in a Southern
lottery drawing, asserts that he never
had a ticket in the lottery.
A firm faith is the best divinity; a
good life the best philosophy; a clear
conscience the best law. .
There is a commua notion that it is
injurious to health to driuk freely of
water at meals, and
have seeu many
warnings against the habit, the reader
l>eim* advised to abstain from drinking
until the end of the meal. An urtiole
recently published in the Lancet, how
ever, leads us to infer that the idea we
have mentioned finds no sufficient sup
port iu medical authority. "To moisten
food," says that journal, "and prepare
it lor digestion, it is hardly necessary
to say that it should be taken with a
meal; a couple of tumblerfuls at dinner
is not an excessive quantity for most
persons. 1 ' This language indicates that
water driuluug at meals is not only
harmloss but aotivoiv bene^oiaL
to the young lady wuo
The Mutter-Tree.
The Upper Niger region produces a
great number of important vegetable
products. Among these are various
kinds of millet, produced by the genus
sorguum and other allied grasses; rice,
as good as that of the Indies; haricots
of two species, the largest called niebea
guertti , a: id growing two in a pod,
which hides below ground like the pea
nut; tobacco, peanuts, indigo, sesame
and cotton. Among the edible roots is
one belonging to the Euphorbiaceo 8.
This is very common, and when young
may serve as a substitute for the potato.
Some of the forest trees that are use
ful to m in are the koul , which has a pod
containing several grains of the size of
a small bean, surrounded by sweet
yellow farina; The citron; the
baobab, both fruit and leaves
of which are used for food, while
the bark is made into cordage: the gon
atier , an excellent timber tree, the
seeds of the pods of which are used in
tanning; the tamarind, from the acid
fruits of which a refreshing drink is
made; the cailcedrat, which Yields
uood timber, while a febrifuge is made
from its bark; the öerre, a shrub yielding
small, round, edible fruitp, from which
an alcoholic drink is made; the dimb , a
fine tree, with pear-shaped fruits,
which produce syncope if eaten in ex
cess; the rhat, the Wood of which is
used In the light structures of the coun
try, while from the bark is made the
dye used to stain yellow the drawers of
the Bambaras and Malinkes; the din
gouton , with yellow edible fruits; the
silk cotton-tree, an immense tree, the
wood of which is made Into pestles
and mortars, while the berry is made
into a kind of tinder; the toroninkoko ,
a sort of tig, the fruits of which are at
tached directly to the trunk and large
branches; the n'faba, which bears large
fruits containing six or eight kernels
covered with a white or reddish flesh of
delicious taste, and many others. Per
haps the most important of all is tbe
karite , or butter tree [Baasia Parkii).
This is a fine tree with oulong leaves,
very common in some districts, and
bears fruit of the size of the walnut,
with a thin shell coveied by a savory
flesh. The nut is filled with a white
compact substance, which Is made into
vegetable butter. The fruit is thrown in
cylindrical cavities dug in the ground,
where it is left until the external flesh
is putrefied. It is then placed m a
kind of clay furnace, where it is dried
and slightly cooked. The shells are
then broken and the kernels pressed into
a homogeneous paste which is placed in
cold water, well beaten, and then
wrapped up in leaves.
The butter of the karite is in con
stant use among the Bambaras and Ma
liukesof the Upper Niger and Upper
Senegal. It serves for cooking, for use
in lamps, for the manufacture of soap,
for the anointing of wounds, etc. "We
believe." writes M. Gallieni (Bull, de
la Société de Geographie,) "that this
product might be used on a large scale
in Europe for the manufacture of soap
and of candles." The plant appears to
be richer in oleaginous matter than the
arachide or groundnut, of which Cayor
alone now' produces 30,000,000 kilo
grammes. Immense forests of this
butter-tree exist on both sides ef the
Niger, on the Gambia and on other
livers, and can easily be exploited and
converted into an article of commerce.
A Novel Bridge.
In connection with the new railway
along the coast of Banff aud Moray a
novel bridge for the conveyance of work
men has been thrown across the river
Spey, at its widest part, between Foch
abers and Garmouth. The span is five
hundred feet, and the bridge consists of
four steel wires or cables, on which runs
an iron carriage weighing 140 pounds.
The carriage is lined and floored with
strong diamond lattice wire, thereby
presenting little or no resisting surface
to the wind. On the top, at each of the
four corners of the carriage, te a V
grooved pulley, 15 inches in diameter.
The carriage has thus the appearance of
ordinary carriage inverted. The
wheels on each run on the two upper
ropes, aud they are kept in position and
locked in the Y-groove by the weight of
of the carriage, which, with ifes load, is
suspended under the centre of gravity
during the passage. The four upper
wheels have a crank-handle affixed, by
means of which the passengers, seated
back to back, can propel the carnage up
the short incline at the termination of
each journey. For 460 feet, or therea
bouts, the trip is accomplished by grav
itation. The third rope introduced is
placed at a lower level under tbe centre
of gravity. It passes under a singl
pulley inside the caniage, close to its
floor. This under wire is strained up
to sustain one-half of the proscribed
load, and is equal in strength to both
the upper ropes, the combined breaking
strain of tbe whole being equal to 32
tons, according to the Admiralty test.
Immediately on the third rope being
new carriage being put in its position,
Mr. Harper, of Seafield, who has been
entrusted by tbe Great North of Scotland
Railway with the design and execution
of the scheme, started for the opposite
®hore, which he reached in the short
8 I ,ace of forty seconds, returning with a
passenger, against a strong pressure of
wind, in rather less than a minute,
without having to use any exertion, ex
incita,
aa approached his destination. The
rop^ 8 are suspended from Scotch fir
posts, the tops of which are fifteen feet
above the level of the river. They are
twelve indle9 iu aiameter, Hied in the
a « i _, u -
8 rount * ant * 8ta yed by ropes of equal
strength to that of those crossing the
river - The y are securely anchored in
pita* with twenty-five to thirty tons of
ballast.