The Delaware ledger., March 22, 1884, Image 1

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

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m
*
But how account for tho prosperity of the
If ranee, Germany,
^ssia and the
ago
NEW ADVERTÏ8EMKNT8.
— Var m
Wß 4 .
CHAMPAGNE !
All the leading and popular brand*. Fin# old 8COTCH WHISKEY by th> bottle
demijohn. Jam«* llcnneaey's celebrated FRENCH BRANDY by the bottle or
case. JAMAICA RUM. Tery fine SHERRY WINE, all prices and qualities. Fine
old PORT WINE very rare. Cordial* ef all kinds. CIGARS, very fine. ORANGE
GROVE PURE RYE WHISKIES
1 i ountriejj <
be lektoafe
FOR NAFF: -A L a neuster County
Wagon, well finished and of beil.
ial^ I. ich!
and
F*
and W heel-barn > ws.
Ä Cyrus Cooper.
pis
JAMES A. KELLY,
Comer Tenth & Shipks^* DjL f
IV
NUMBER 14.
VOLUME VII.
NEWARK, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, MARCH 22. 1884.
lng
at
down
you
I
ed
to
a
they
man
And
wild
me
LONQ A WO.
I sit besldn the sinking fire,
Watch tho weird faces in its glow;
All through the night T. should not tire
But they have faded, long ago.
Ah—dust to dust I—the last repose—
Ashes to ashes I—well I know
How surely this hath been with those,
Those whom I loved, so long ago.
How surely this with me will bo !
From every petty joy and woe.
From fancied slight, from jealousy
Mode free aud safe—ah I long ago.
man,
things with us stay;—
As on the waters lilios blow
In white and green-just as they lay
In white and greeu so long ago.
*Tls pleasant now to think,—"Perhaps
In memory's light one's face may glow;''
"Out upon Time I" for all things lapse
In that sad, dreary long ago.
And yet
dead, don't thou forget,—
But when I'
Thou whom I used to treasure so;
Yet may one tear thine eyelid wet,
Because I loved thee—long ago I
GOING ASHORE.
"There she is, sir; that'« she just off
the pint there. She's a-comlng stem
hour, if she ain't on
on; and in arf
Bunk Hands, I'm a Dutchman."
My companion was no native of dam
land, for there r-as Briton written in
every feature ot his bronied-red face,
he stood W me in Baythrope shore,
in his canvuss trowsers. heavy Usher's
boots, bltw' Jorsey shirt, and tarpaulin
tat, tied on with a hit of oakum band,
while ise flap behind heat about in the
tremendous wind that was raginf in
0 iU faces.
"Bangl" went the dull, smothered
nfort of a heavy gun, and in the shade
night I just caught
sight of a faint flash' dl-Vjjfltv- Wlflre
we stood, the spray came rushing in
like a heavy storm of raiu; while the
whistling of the wind, aud the thunder
ing in of the huge rollers as they curled
over and over upon the sands, tearing
it out from among the clays, and
scraping it away by tons, made standing
in the face of such a storm extremely
confusing; and yet hundreds were out
upon the shore close under the great
sand-bank, drenched to the skin with
the spray, for the news had spread
through the village that a three-master
was going ashoro.
Going ashore! Simple words to a
andsman's ears; but what do they
mean? The noble vessel tearing and
plunging through the broken water—
now down In the trough of the
waves, now rising like a cork upon the
white crests, and then a shock as she
strikes upon the sand, and seems lm
movable; a shuddering quiver through
plank aud beam; and then crash, crash,
crash—mast after mast gone by the
board—suapped like brittle twigs ou a
dead stem; while huge ropes part like
burnt twine; then the rising of the
apparently immovable vessel, as she is
lilted by the waves to fall crashing
again upon the sands, parting in the
middle; rushing billows pouring tons
upon tons of water over the deck; a
wild, wild cry for help; and then the
shore strewed with fragments, casks,
bodies, as the merciless waves sport
with them, tossing them on to the
sands, and then curling over to drag
them back. Going ashore; not safety
from a wild storm, but death.
"Ah," said the old salt by my side,
with his hand to his
and
not
as
as
it
the
a
All
ly
a
shouting at
mouth, did yer hear that gun?"
1 nodded.
"There goes another," he continued,
stretching out his hand and pointing to
where the flash could be seen, while
directly after came another dull heavy
report. "Can't yer see her uow, sir?"
Mine were not sea-going eyes; and it
was no easy task to make out a distant
object through the blinding storm of
spray which beat dead in my face; but
I just managed to make out a dark
mass right among tho boiling waves,
and I shuddered
fate of those on board.
"She must come to it,
man; she'll come in just there;" and he
pointed to a spot among the waves
where they seemed roughest; "she'll be
there in less time than I said; and then,
Lord have mercy upon 'eml Ameul"
As he said this the old man reverent
ly took off his tarpaulin sou'wester,
and stood with the storm tearing
through the remains of his grizzly hair;
bald, rugged aud weather-beaten, the
coarseness of his features seemed for
the moment subdued—softened by the
feeling within his breath—as he stood
there no inapt representation of a seer
Of old.
"Is there no chance for them!" I
I thought of the
said the
shouted.
The old
shook his head and
"Precious
shrugged his shoulders,
little," he said, "unless them chaps
come down with the life-boat; but
who'd go out?"
It did look a desperate venture,
indeed, to attempt to launch a boat
with such a sea on, and having no
reply, I stood shading my eyes and gaz
ing out to see.
"Bangl"
There was another flash, and another
dull, echoless report, a.id as the veil
of spray seemed to clear during a lull
in tbe storm; I could perceive a large
three-masted vessel about five hundred
yards from the shore; and once, as she
keeled over and showed her deck,
•e that it was crowded with
I
could I
people.
"God help them!" I muttered.
"Amen!" said the old man; and just
then, away to our left, we saw the life
boat carriage coming down at a trot,
drawn by two stout horses; while a
loud and prolonged "liurrayJ" welcomed
its arrival—as another flash, and its
following heavy report, seemed to come
from the doomed vessel like a groan of
pain in its hour of sore distress.
"They'll never go out to her," said
the old mau, shouting in my ear, for
after the lull the storm came down
with redoubled fury—the wind shriek
lng and howling past, cutting the
crests of the wares off
tearing over the hill of waters, and
dashing the salt spray to my face till it
almost seemed, to cut the flesh; while
at tunes the women who had come
down were completely held back
against the steep sand-bank.
"There! look therel" cried the old
suddenly seizing my arm.
There; don't
you see—now a top o' that breaker?"
I caught sight of a small boatciowd
ed with figures, and then there seemed
to be a tall wave curl over it aud I
it no more.
"Gone!" said the old man.
knowed it! Nothing could live in suoh
a storm."
"Let's go to the life-boat aud see if
they are going off," said I; but the old
man was intensely gazing out to sea.
"There, Just as I said," he shouted
coarsely, "just in time. She's struck."
And then, above the yelling of the
storm, we could hear a crash and a
wild shriek, that seems to ring through
me now upon a itormy night, when far
inland I listen to the howling wind.
and
to
the
shot
and
of
the
and
as
air.
and
it came
man,
"Catching at straws.
"I
"It's now or never!" said the old
he ran down toward where the
man,
life-boat stood upon its carriage, the
women hanging on to their husbands,
and apparently begging that they would
not dare the perils before them.
she
a
had looked fearful enough
The
from where we stood before; but here,
as close as we dared go to the breakers,
it looked perfectly awful, while the
attempt to launch a boat seemed
absolute madness. It was evident that
she
ed
thought so, too, though, as we
came up, oue sturdy fellow shouted,
"I'm ready, mates if you're going." a
remark that tftefoed no response, for
every one stood stöYiü# gazing out
toward the doomed vessel.
the
Just then, in the dull haze seaward, a
blue light shone out over the water like
one moved.
dull star: but still
a
All at once the old man by my side
laid hold of my
and whispered:
"Give me a lift, sir;" and before I knew
Yiardly what his object was, he had
climbed by my help into the boat.
''Now, then, you boys," lie shouted
wildly; "I can't stand this! Stand
aside, and let some of the old ones
come? 1 '
The spell was broken. Women were
hastily thrust aside, and a boat's crew
was soon made up, amid the shriek
ing aud wailing of sweet-heart's and
wives, who ran about the beach wring
ing their hands.
"Hurray for old Marks!" shouted a
voice at my elbow, and tho crowd loud
ly cheered the old man. Then oars
were shipped and all made ready, the
old sailor seizing the steering-oar as he
stood up in his place with a life-belt on
and his hat blown off, looking nobler
than ever.
"Now, are you all ready?" he siiout
"No, no," was the cry; and in-the
hush of expectation, two men rose in
the boat, dashed off their life-belts, and
amid half-muttered groans, leaped out
from their places, and ran up the sands
to the bank, where they disappeared.
"Two morel" shouted old Marks,
and for a few moments, so dread was
the peril, not a soul moved; then two
stout lads came rushing toward the
boat, pursued by
perfect giant.
"Stopthem!"he roared. "Yersliant
go, lads."
lie came up to them by the boat's
side as they were climbing in, and en
deavored to stop their progress; but in
his turn he was seized from behind by
a couple of men, and the two new
comers were in half a minute equipped
fer the dire struggle before them and
in their places.
"Let me go!" shrieked the man; but
the others clung to him, as the signal
was given, the carriage backed down
into posit'on, the time accurately
chosen, aud with a wild "hurrah!"
heard above the storm, the life-boat was
launched.
My attention had been so taken up
that I had ceased to look upon the man
who was struggling to regain his
liberty; but, just as the boat was leav
ing its carriage, a bystander was
driven violently against me, and the
moment after I saw a figure dash
across the intervening space and seize
the side of the boat; then came tiro
roar of the storm and the rush of
elderly man—a
spray, while for a few minutes the life
boat was invisible. Then a short
distance off she was seen rising upon a
wave, and then disappearing again into
the dull haze, which, migled with the
coming night, soon shut everything
rom our gaze but the foaming water.
"Over seventy, sir," shouted a voice
In reply to a query. "Old man-o'-war's
Been in many a storm, but this
here's awful!"
Awful it was; for so wild a night
had not fallen upon that part of the
ooast for many years; aud
upon the shore gazed in the direction
the boat had taken they shook their
heads and shouted in each other's ears.
There was a long and awful pause,
only broken by the shrieking of the
wind, and then came a loud shout,
"Here she comes!" and in another
minute, obedient to their steersman,
the rowers timed their strokes to a
that the boat, heavily laden,
the folk
I
second,
rode iu upon the summit of a giant
wave so far that twenty willing hands
were at her side, aud she
the sands, and fifteen shivering,
half-drowned fellow-creatures lifted
out and hurried up the shore.
a
its
of
run right
"Now, my lads," cried old Murks,
"on to the truck with her, and we're
off again."
The boat was soon mounted, and
every man at his post, the father of
the two lads taking his place by the side
of the old cockswain; for
of persuasion on either side could effect
for
* a change.
amount
There was another cheer, rising
above the storm, and again the gallant
crew were launched into the surf, that
seemed to curl round the boat as
though to fill it in au instant. It rose
and fell a dark mass amid the white
foam for
to plunge Into a bank of foggy black
ness, for night had fallen.
I could not drag myseL away from
the stirring scene around me, for I
seemed held to the spot by a strange
fascination. All at onoe a lurid light
shot up, for a quantity of straw had
been set
and cracked as dry sea-weed and pieces
of wood were heaped up to increase
the glare, which appeared to gild the
crests of the waves, and threw Into
bold relief the figures on the sands—
some gazing out to sea; some watching
eagerly the fringe of breakers, ready to
rush down and secure anything that
might be washed ashore from the
wreck.
More straw was heaped upon the fire,
and the flames and sparks rushed inland
as they rose with the mighty current of
air. and darted across the sand-bank.
Out seaward all seemed black darkness,
and the eyes strained after the life-boat
were for a while, strained in vain.
ing
ing
the
don't
wain
hark
ing
The
to
one
brave
other
land
Tlie
The
to
till
upon
instant, aud then seemed
fire, and the flames roared
All at once there was a cry of "Here
she comes;" but it was prolonged into
a wild wail of despair, for by the light
from the fire the boat could be seen
broadside
l, and close inshore, and
then, after tossing about for a moment,
she was dashed, bottom upward, upon
the sands.
There was a rush to aid the men
struggling in the surf. Seme were a
dragged ashore; some scrambled unaid- of
ed from the water; while more than a ff
sucked back by the undertow;
but the life-belts they wore kept them
u1i8îk,-aad at Jiast, more or less hurt, m
the whole crew wasHilfttf) three being are
carried un to the village insenüdfb.
I learned that the only one seriously
injured was old Marks, who had so
gallantly set the example that evening
—an example which had resulted in the
saving of flrteen poor creatures from a
watery grave.
Un entering the village I soon found
where the old man had been conveyed 0 f
and a few minutes after I was at the s
bedside of the sufferer. I found him fl
sensible; but with a change m his
countenance that no amount of pain or
suffering alone would have placed
there, lie was quite calm, and smiled of
118 IT??? 1 ®!* a . „„ .
whiBiwrad, stopping uTwl^the bloSd
away that oozed from his Ups.
"I fear so," he replied; "the shore is
strewed with wreck. "
"I knowed she would," he gasped.
"Poor things, poor things! How many
did we bring ashore?"
I told him fifteen.
"Ah!" he groaned, "not enough, no
enough. "
"But it wai a most gallant act," I
said; "and more would have been saved era
but for the accident. Where are you
hurt? It is not serious, I hope?" on
"Serious?" he whispered: and then,
with a sad smile, "No; it ain't serious.
I'm the only one hurt; and my time's
up long ago—lour year and more. So
it ain't serious."
"Where are you hurt?"
"Ribs all crushed," he whispered.
"I was under the gunwale of the boat;
and it's all over. I could see it in the
one
of
in
doctor's looks."
A gush of blood stopped his utter
ance, and I dared not whisper the
comfort I could not feel.
"It's all right, sir," he whispered,
after lying with his eyes closed for
about half
hour—"It's all right, and
an old tar couldn't die better than
doin' his duty. I never thought to;
but I always felt as 1 should like to die
in harness, as they say, and so I shall;
but I wish there had been more."
"More what?" I said.
"More saved," he whispered. "Yer
see I've been afore now in action; and
the Almighty only knows how many
souls I've cut off; and I should like to
feel sure as I'd saved more than I did
for—that's all. Perhaps they might go
in the scale, to help balance the bad."
"But you did all as a part of your
duty."
"Ah!" he whispered, "duty! Yes,
sailors should do their duty; and I felt
it was mine to-night to go. We old
men-o*
to a call iu calm or storm; and when
lives were at stake to-night I felt that
I was called, and I hope I did my duty.
Will you ask them fifteen to just say a
word or two for the old man in their
prayers, sir; I mean when I'm gone? I
think I should like them to, for I'm an
old sailor, and can't boast of my past
life."
's men were trained to answer
a
"Have you no relatives?" I whisper
ed; "no friends that you would like to
see?"
the
a
"Far away—far away," he said, with
a mournful shake of the head; "and
some are a-wait In' for me to join their
watch. Don't leave me, sir," he said
piteously.
I promised I would not; and sat
watching hour after hour listening to
tbe hard breathing of the sufferer, who
seemed to sink into a state of stupor,
only moaning at intervals as he tossed
his head from side to side of the pillow,
and muttered a few words broken and
half-spoxen. The storm gradually
sunk, till the wind quite lulled; and
about 3 o'clock I half drew the curtain
and looked out upon the sea, which
still tossed fearfully; though all above
was calm aud peaceful—a light cloud
just drifting slowly past the pale bright
moon.
I stood gazing at the soft blue sky,
now so placid and serene, almost
wondering that so great a change could
have tuken place, when 1 started, for a
voice behind me shouted: "Morning
watch. Draw the curtain, and let the
moon shine iu."
1 obeyed—turning cold, and trembl
of
side
ing as I did so—still looking at the dv
ing sailor, who sat erect in the bed.
"Here," he said; and, as I approached
the bed. he seized my band. "Hark!
don't you hear that? It's the boats
wain pipiDg for me to keep my ever
lasting watch. Ay, ay, sir! Three—
hark again I There's the waves a-slash
ing upon the farther Bhore. Breakers
aliead! breakers ahead 1 Look out there!
The old vessel's stiuck, and she's going
to pieces—the old seventy-four that's
weathered so many a storrr »going ashore.
Farewell, messmate; one short struggle,
one cold plunge, and a hopeful heart—a
brave striking out through the harsh
breakers! Laud, ho! land, ho! on the
other side—and it's a land of rest—a
land of peace and hope. Now for it!
Tlie rush of the dark waters is coming
—blinding—dashing—but a bold heart,
messmate. God bless you! I'm going
ashore."
For some minutes I sat motionless.
The old man's eye had lighted up as he
gazed straight before him out upon the
moonlight heavens. His voice seemed
to peal through the silence of the night,
till I shivered as he described the
wreck then taking place. To the last
word, his voice had rung out loud and
resonant; then he sank back motionless
upon the pillow, stained now with his
life-blood; and I passed softly from the
room, for I knew that his life-bark was
stranded by the sea of Death.
an
is
was
fore
once
and
I
est
the
was
she
was
and
to
ing
the
the
and
gay
was
ble,
did
ity
and
FublonakU Flowm-a.
One of the most sensible steps Dame
Fashion ever took was when she dis
carded the stiff, old-fashioned bouquet
formed of mixed flowers, each one with
a dagger through its heart, in the shape
of B wlre; ttnd tUe whole awkward
a ff a j r planted in the middle of a round
piece of hideous lace paper. Such
wholesale destruction is no longer per
m itted, and in place of sticks and wires
are the long stems of the flowers them
gathered loosely together, tied
with îoops'ôf rrb V uULhcli one or
two choice buds droop their
heads.
Roses are the favored flowers ef the
a moment, and where do they all come
from? is the question. Think of the
quantities required to meet the demands
0 f an exceptional season in society, as
s the present in Philadelphia. Sixty
fl ve debutantes in the field, and the fes
tive ball rolling at its fullest speed,
The constant round of gayeties is sub*
ect to but one limitation; the number
of night3 in the week> Think of the
profusion of flowers at each one of
Uiese anteiUinmenti. They fill every
available space in the different apart
is men ^®' twine over the staircases;
they form arbore from behind which
the *° ft 8tmins of music steal i they
are touch of color to the sapper
table *» at least oue bouquet is part of
the toilot of every lady present; while
^ arms of the debutante have
been known to carry as many as twenty
I fragrant clusters. Where do the flow
era all come from?
A talk with a well-known authority
on the culture of roses elicits the infor
of
of
as
a
matlon that the majority of "new"
roses, as they are called, come from
England and France. What are called
new roses aie usually those that we have
not been accustomed to seeing. They
have been kept out of sight for years,
perhaps, in order to bring them to
greater perfection, and then exhibited
under a new name. F or example, the
"Bon Silene" and "Niphetox" are both
old roses. The "Bon Silene," not so
beautiful as it is now, was well known
in this country as long as fifteen years
ago. Not being very popular it was
discarded.
Some individual grower
succeeded in improving it so that it be
came an established favorite in France,
amd soon found its way to this part of
the world. The "N iphetox" bud, with
its long, white, slender petals, was
grown here forty years ago. Then it
lost sight of, and not heard of
again till a man by the name of
Granger le introduced it into the trade
with France. He claimed it to be a
new variety, but called it by its old
name, and there were few, even among
tho growers, with memories sufficiently
long to recall it. The soil of Nice is
especially adapted for these buds, and
sends great quantities of them inio
Paris, where they are primo favorites.
The raising of roses is a tedious and
diBappoiuting business. In France and
Germany there are men of education
who devote their whole time andthought
to it.
A prominent rose-grower is responsi
ble for the statement Hint there are
to
go
a
I
an
black roses, the principle varieties of
which are the Emperor of Morocco and
Sultan of Zanzibar; as also that there
are green roses, the Viridis being
the best of them, rechristened by a
dealer the "Fenian Bisters."
Brides no longer limit themselves to
the conventional orange blossoms, but
fasten their veils with white lilacs,
white rosea or lilies of the valley, and
carry bouquets to correspond. Russian
violets are in high favor; they are Tull
rich flowers, blue-black iu color, with
deep orange hearts and are very fra
grant. English iyy is extensively used,
similar having lost prestige. Very
choice bouquets are made up of one
half Russian violets and the other
half Gloire de Paris roses.
The modest field flowers are by no
means forgotten ; they are extensively
cultivated
est in price. White clover, buttercups,
daisies and chrysanthemums bring
quite as high prices as do their more
pretentious kindred,aud are thought es
pecially appropriate for the debutantes,
who often wear simple clusters of dais
ies or buttercups at the waists of their
fleecy-white toilets.
Apple-blossoms are also cul tivuted
they are usually forced from branches of
the crab-apple tree and retain the blush
tint and the delicious odor so suggest
ive of fresh greeu swards.
to
sat
to
and
and
and are no longer mod
sky,
a
the
and
will
one
not
er
dog
It
to
fish
on
on
Vanit y Fair at Sara toga.
"If I am to be perfectly frank," said
an English tourist, and I hope candor
is as much prized among Americans as
practiced by them—I cannot say that I
was particularly charmed with Transa
tlantic society as it unfolded itself be
fore my gaze at Saratoga. More than
once or twice that which I saw and
heard irresistibly suggested to my mind
Bunyan'sdescription of "Vanity Fair."
Saratoga appeared to greet its well
dressed guests with "eat, drink,
and be merry," and they in turn
seemed wild to obey the summons.
I stayed at the Congress Hall—the old
est and perliaps the most famous, of the
great hotels—and I felt more solitary in
the midst of the excitement and per
petual motion of its crowds than any
where else in America. There certainly
was no lack of diversion, and had
Lady Clara Vere de Vere been present,
she assuredly would not have found
time hang heavily on her hands. There
was music from morning to night,
and once or twice a week, by way of
variety, there was dancing from night
to morning. The men languidly smok
ing on the broad and Bhady piazzas of
the hotel, lounged through the sultry
forenoon,and each day between 12 and 1
the majority of the guests, both ladies
and gentlemen dashed off in all kinds of
gay vehicles to the races. The evening
was spent amid the pleasures of the ta
ble, and as the night drew on, in prom
enading through the leafy glades of the
Congress Park, where the electric light
did its best, with the American audac
ity to stare the venerable moon out of
countenance. There seemed a restless,
and there undoubtedly was a very pre
tentious air about the crowd at Sara
toga, and the searcti for pleasure was
apparently much more persistent than
successful. Never m the whole course
are
ges
the
see
in
of
of
of my life had I seen such manifest
signs of the general possession of wealth
accompanied by such a widespread lack
of refinement. Many of the ladies
seemed to me to be arrayed in garments
made fff»-Qt the Union Jack and the
Stars and Stripes, a dash of pea
cock feathers thrownYui variety^
The gay colors did not match well with
the sallow complexions, and as a rule
the effect
f
the reverse of pleasing.
Of course, there were exceptions to this
as to every other rule, and occasionally
ones eyes were gladdened as they
roamed wearily over a wilderness of
uninteresting women by the sight of
some coy and bewitching beauty. The
display of jew'elry among old and young
must have charmed the hearts of the
negroes who danced attendance around,
while the bonnets and dresses, for their
costly frailty if not for their good taste,
weuld have thrown a French milliner
into ecstacies of delight. Yet in spite
of all the splendor and the show the
people, both men and women, seemed
to be playing at enjoying themselves
rather than doing so. One seldom heard
a downright merry laugh, and there
was a half listless, half fierce look ~~
many a face which neither music, nor
dancing, nor dishes appeared to have
power to dispel.
to
so
Painting Upan I.aae.
This work is an imitation of the old
Cretan laces, which were made with
colored threads arranged
upon a black or white ground. It Is
executed with water colors, and used
for furniture lace or as trimmings to
dress fabrics. The colors are made
fast by the
they will not stand washing, they will
not take hurt from atmospheric causes.
To paint: Use veloutine as a fixative,
moist water colors mixed with Chinese
white or body colors, red sable brushes,
and work upon Yak or Cluny lace of
good designs. Stretch the lace and pin
it down to a drawing board, so that
every part of it Is quite secure. Select
the colors to use, aud where they are
to be applied, and over every place that
is to be painted lay on a wash of undi
luted veloutine. When that is dry
make a wash of Chinese white and vel
outine, pass that over the parts alread
sized with the veloutine, and then paint
the lace with bright colors in a set pat
tern. To make the colored design;
Take the pattern woven in the lace as
the starting point, and color it so that
its chief lines are brought out by the
shading more prominently than its
oadary. Use light blue vermillion,
crimson or gold for the chief lines;
green, dark blue and dull red for the
secondary. The more broken up and
diversified the coloring, the better the
effect. The colors usod are yellow ver
million shading to dark crimson, old
gold-colored yellows, yellow and olive
greens and cobalt and Prussian blues.
Lay them on without shading, mix them
with Chinese white and veloutine, and
see that they are thoroughly absorbed
iuto the material. Metallic colors, such
as gold and silver powder,
■ilyed in the Bame way to the lace.
patterns
of a fixative, and though
of
it
of
of
a
is
are
of
a
to
Tull
fra
no
es
of
be ap
Side-show Shouter
Shouting for a side-show is not the
most esthetio occupation in the world,
but it is
has other advantages which attract the
class of young men engaged in it. In
yesterday's rain the reporter had a
talk with one of the out-door men of
one of the recent additions to the
city's varied attractions m the amuse
ment line, and that was what he said
about the sliouter's business. When
asked if that was all he could say for
the business, he replied: "Oh, no; it
gives a man a chance to travel, broad
ens his views and gives him an under
standing of human nature for which
other occupation affords as great an
opportunity. This rain has knocked
business for this day, but give me one
hour's sunshine and I will start in
again with the enthusiasm of a man
who has just entered the business. In
the East a good shouter gets $25 a
of the healthiest, and it
week, and they advertise and are ad- j
Yertised for just as any other class of,
talent. It is a regular business there
and well followed. Shouters
erally docent fellows, but as their busi
ness is often precarious they sometimes
will accept a situation with an unre
liable showman, and that, perhaps, is
one thing which has prejudiced so
many people against our trade. But
shouting is our business, and it does
not make much difference to us wheth
er it is the amphibious and carnivorous
dog or a panorama of the Holy Land.
It is not an easy business to learn, but
when once a man becomes accustomed
to it he can shout before the crowned
heads with the dignity and ease of a
fish peddler in the most familiar alley
on his business route. It is a great
business in one way. You see, we
don't have to pack any apparatus or
carry any wardrobe. A man can start
on a moment's notice. But hotel men
his
as
to
if
gen
are not apt to think any more of a
traveler because he has no baggage.
That is the way it goes—one thing
balances another. There are advanta
ges and drawbacks, ups and downs.
The worst calamity of all, of course, is
the failing of the voice. Did you ever
see a shouter who couldn't shout?
Well, he is the most melancholy man
you ever will see. He pines away and
dies.
abuses him.
to
on
as
Before dissolution everybody
The curiosities whose
praises he has sung for years refuse to
recognize him, and the boys who steal
in under the tents make him the butt
of all their jokes. He is the embodi
ment of misery. You can knock him
down with a straw. Try it."
At this point the shouter paused. He
had rattled off his story of the strange
business in much the same style he
would have assumed on his box in front
of the show. He did not appear the
least exhausted, but the reporter found
some difficulty In keeping track of the
ideas elucidated by the voluble show
man.
KI Kentucky
What was once the town of New Lib
erty, Ky.,is nothing now but a portion of
f unfcQhio river.^ Never will it be known
how mauy'souîs'ïïavê gülß. foçth ipfcft
the infinite hereafter during this awful
flood of 1884. Already from ail the
villages and farmlands iuquiry is made
for those of whose fate nothing can be
learned.
Receutlyas a steamer carefully plowed
her way a shout for help was heard.
To our right a faiut light was seen. A
skiff
lowered and put out toward
this feeble ray. It returned with a
motley craw. An old man, an old
woman, five children.
"These 'ems my grand-childrens;
this 'eras my wife—their grandmother.
My name's Col. WilliaYn Humphreys—
Col. Wm. Humphreys, of Kentucky
State, gentleman, sers, gentleman, evry
inch of me, sers! Flooded, flooded.
Goin' 'way, sers; goin' to my only livin'
sou, sers. Can't stau' it; nothin' left,
sers," explained the head of the family
"Col. William Humphreys" and his
brood were provided with state rooms.
At breakfast the next morning the
children ate like famished beasts. I
sat near the old man. His silver bowed
spectacles were tied on with a piece of
twine; he glanced over them at me
sliarply.
"Don't mind 'em, miss," he said,
"they'll soon fill up. Day before yes
terday, miss, sence they lied a mouth
ful. No stove left tuh cook on; nothin'
left to cook."
"I saved the banjo though," spoke up
the old lady, whom her consort ad
dressed as "Miss Mag." "Yes; I saved
the banjo if the stove did go. Miss,
can you pick?"
"Pick what—cotton?" I asaed.
"Oh. no; bless my soul no. Pick the
banjo. Ef ye do, now, we can j ust have
bit o'music. 'T'wd sort o' comforta
me. My Sally, she used to pick right
smart. "
These strange Kentucky people!
From the richest to the poorest, the
most polished to the most simple, their
calamity seems to slip from their
minds like water from a duck's back.
From all the larger towns which have
suffered the least, dally small steamers
start on excursion trips to view the
scenes of disaster. The people visit
these places where ruiu is spread every
where, and the waters are but a sepul
chre to hide the dead, with bands of
music, with dancing and every appear
ance of festivities.
The agricultural editor of the New
York Times says that no doubt many
farmers who are intending to nndordrain
their farms would save money by em
ploying an expert at the first to lay out
the whole system and make a good be
ginning, and so avoid any possible mis
take, whiob might coat ten dollars for
every
should not be forgotten that when a
drain is laid it is laid.
A stage driver was taxing a gentle
man across country from the Pleasant
Plains station
Railway, yesterday, when the passen
ger remarked that the snowstorm of
Sunday was quite heavy. "Yes." said
the driver, "but 'taint like the snows
we used to have. Bee that plain
there?" asked the venerable Jehu,
pointing down the hill. "Well, one
day in '56 I drove up to that peaked
roof farm-house, stopped my team on
the suow-erust beside the chimney,and
dropped them provisions down through
a chute in the snow "
We may compare tbe soul to linen
doth— it muse be first washed to take
off its native hue and color and to make
it white, and afterwards it must be
ever and anon washed to preserve and
keep it white.
M t . Dalton Gibson asserts that on
dissolving molecular proportions of ani
line aud aurin iu aloohoi and evapora
ting at a moderate temperature a red
crystalline residue is obtained, soluble
m alcohol, imparting to it
oolor. It dyes silks in neutral solutions
exactly the same Bhade as aurin.
paid for skilled advice. It
the Staten Island
a
it
a
orange
!»-• II 1 Fie
Pott.
He sat by the stove In a Michigan
avenue store, Detroit fully twenty min
utes before speaking. He spread out
his legs to encircle as much of the fire
as possible, drew his sleeve across his
nose at regular intervals, and there
was a strong smell of burning boot
leather as he finally looked up at the
grocer and said:
"Can you tell me why combustion
causes a draught?"
"No, sir," was the prompt reply.
"It is positively wonderful how ig
norant the masses are on scientific sub
jects," continued the
himself to an apple. "Can you tell me
why this isinglass in your stove is not
consumed by the heat?"
"I guess it's because you keep all the
heat off," was the sneering reply.
"f ou are a liar, sir, and you say that
to excuse your ignorance. Now, then,
what pressure does water exert on the
human body at a depth of sixty feet?'
''I'll exeit a pressure
if you call me a liar again!" exclaimed
the grocer. "What do you want
here?"
as he helped
your body
"I want to ask you if you understand
the principle by which birds flv?"
"You get out of this! I have no
time to fool away with such nonsense!"
"Nonsense!" piped the old chap;
"why, I don't believe you know the
amount of oxygen that you consume at
each respiration."
The grocer laid hold of the man to
draw him to the door, but he caught a
Tartar and was flopped on his back.
"I exerted a force of about one-eigth
horse power to accomplish that," said
the old man as he knelt on the pros
trate body. "A dead blow of twenty
pounds from my fist would flatten your
nose, while two pounds additional
would crack your skull."
"Git off'n me, or I'll slay you."
"I seize your hair with a clutch equal
to the grasp of a hand lifting fourteen
pounds of iron and I bump your head
on the floor with a force equal to nine
pounds."
"Let go my hair!" veiled Wie grocer
as he kicked aud struggled«-*-■
"Y'tfU'are now using a force equal to
eight pounds to the square inch," said
the old
as he bumped him again,
"but it is useless. I shall uow exert a
force equal to forty-eight grasshoppers
to shut off your wind, and I will then
administer a kick equal to the force
necessary to upset a cord of four foot
wood."
When the grocer got up the man w as
across the street.
"Police! Police!" shouted the vic
tun.
"You exhausted six gallons of oxy
gen in the first yell and five in the
second," called the scientist, "but it
was simply wasted. I will now make
off at one-quarter of the speed exercised
by an antelope in outrunning a lion.
Good by sordid flesh-pot, good by."
Cat' 1er'»
>ry.
"Hardly
," answered one of Chi
cago's oldest bank cashiers, to the
query of a reporter, who asked if such
tilings as unclaimed bank deposits were
of frequent occurrence.
"Where he keeps his money," con
tinued tUe banker, "is about the last
thing a man ever forgets. But some
times a depositor shuflies of his mortal
coil without remembering to leave his
surviving relatives any clue whereby
they can learn who were his bankers.
This is to them a truly distressing state
of affaira, and it necessitates a thorough
search of all the banks until the right
one is found. No, very few people
forget where they keep their money,
or neglect to call for it sooner or
later,
"Hold on a minute," suddenly ex
claimed the cashier, as the reporter
taking his leave. "I have got a little
story about a remarkable deposit once
made here. That was twenty years ago.
It has been advertised from Maine to
California, but has never been claimed.
But the most extraordinary circum
stance connected with the affair is, that
nobody in the bank ever saw the depos
itor or issued him anything to show for
his money."
"How could that be?"
"Just this way. That was in early
times, when banks here were very in
significant affairs compared with what
they are now, aud there was compara
tively so little danger of robbery that I
used frequently to go across the street
to lunch, leaving the door open and
one in my place. Well, one day when
I came back from lunch, I saw that
some one had entered and left lying in
the window-seat an old carpet-bag. i
gave it no notice, thinking the owner
would soon call and take it away. But
he didn't come, and the bag still lay
there whjn the time came for closing
up. I threw it into the vault and went
home. Several days later the office boy
came across it aud brought it out, ask
ing if he should throw it into the ashr
barrel, as it appeared to be of no value.
We thought we'd open it first and see
if it contained any clue to its ownership
or anything of value. I broke the lock
with a paper-weight, the bag flew open
and out fell and rolled all over the
floor a shower of gold, mostly in small
coins. Thar was absolutely all the
bag contained, aim there was $330 of
it.
"And nobody ever called to claim
it?"
"They haven't yet, and I guess they
are not liable to at this late date. It
struck us strangely enough that any
oue should be so forgetful about such a
matter, and, when all our advertising
was of
strange indeed."
"What was done with-"
"What did we do with tho money?
Oh, our new cashier employed it very
advantageously in bringing his accounts
into
avail, we thought it very
presentable shape to lay before
the board of directors."
Several bookkeepers who had been
listening in open-mouthed astonishment
to the cashier's story, grinned audibly
at its appropriate ending, and the re
porter, who hardly knew what to say,
said nothing and took his leave.
—A marble company at Rutland. Vt.,
employs more marble cutters, it is
sorted, than all the Italian quarries put
together.
Mighty Comfortabla.
The other night old Josh Nuckleson
went to see Emma Abbott in "Faust."
Before the curtain went up he re
marked to a
cost a "rite smart" to get into a town
school-house, and that if he hadn't ter
been "hongry" for fun he wouldn't
have come, After the orchestra had
been playing about fifteen minutes the
old fellow remarked:
"It takes them fellows a devliali long
time ter tune up thar fidduls."
"They are not timing up, they are
playing," said the man in front of the
critic.
"Is that the music?"
"Yes."
"Sounds like they're playin' for a
paralyzed man ter dance. It mout be
music here, but ain't where I live.
They wouldn't call hogs with such a
tune.
After the curtain went up, he re
mained quiet for a long time, then
leaned over and said:
"When does the show begin?"
"It's going on now!"
"When will they do something to
make a feller laugh?"
"There's no laugh in it."
"Then it ain't no show I come here
to laugh. I ken see this sort o' thing
any time. What I want is something
to tickle me."
People turned arouud and looked at
him reproachfully.
"They seem sorter s'prised ter see me
here," he continued, "but if I'd er
knowed as much a hour ago as I do
now I'd er saved 'em the trouble o'
twistin' roun'. They may call that a
song, but I call it a squeal."
"Hush your mouth," said aman who
did not want to lose a note of the
music, but who secretly wished some
one would break out with "Mary's Run
Away Wid a Coon," or "GoDown Mo
sitting near that it
"What's the matter, cap'n?
"I want you to hush."
"An' I want you tar hush,
botherin'
you. Wonder if they're goin' ter fetch
around song books an' tickets iur the
concert, what'll be the best part of the
show, an' so forth? Who's the feiler
with the red plaster on the back of his
neck?"
"The devil, hush."
"The devel, eh? Wall, I'll wait a
little longer, fur there oughter be a heap
o' fun in ther devil."
He quieted downfo^a wfciifl auiLLhen
sailr:
You're
me as much as I am
"The devil das disappointed me. Dry
as the upper west fork o' Buckhorn
creek in August."
"Say, there," said a policeman, whose
services had been called by the music
loving people who sat near the disap
pointed man.
"Wall."
"Hush that noise or I'll put you out
of here."
"Gimme my money back and I'll go
Ottt
"I will give it to you," said a gentle
man, "Here," and he handed the old
fellow $1.50.
"That hits me where I live," he said
as he stalked up the aisle. Beat, my way
in an' am paid to go out. It mout not
argy much in favor of my comp'y, but
it makes my old jeans feel mighty com
fortable.
FAIM Prophets.
The false prophets of Islam have
been many and not a few of them have
endeavored to follow the example of
Mahomet and found an empire by force
of arms. Not one of them, however,
has been permanently successful, and if
the Mahdi escapes capture or assassina
tion he will be more fortunate than
most of his forerunners have been. Mo
seilama, who raised the standard of re
ligious revolt during the lifetime of Ma
homet, was defeated and slain during
the reign of Abu Beer by Khaled Ebu
al Walid, and A1 Aswad, who set up
in the year of Mahomet's death, was
almost immediately betrayed and
decapitated. It
occasion that Mahomet
ed that ere th day of judgement
Islam would be troubled by thirty oth
er impostors. Soon afterward Toleiha
Ebn Khowailed arose, but seeing
the error of his ways recanted, and
Sejaj Bintal Moudar, an early exponent
of woman's rights, led many after her.
Fn the reign, too, of Khalif al Mohdi,
Ilakem Ebn Haaliem, called Al Mokan
, and well-known as the veiled proph
et of Khorassan, gained some success
es, and might have gained more had lie
not despaired and committed, suicide,
and in the reign of Al Afotasem the
still more formidable pretender Babac
was executed, but not until he had
slain a quarter of a million of his ene
mies. Then came the Karmations and
the Islimaelians, or Assassins, and the
followers of Al Montanabi, and of Ba
ba the Turkoman, aud or many more;
so that if Mahomet's thirty impostors
have not already appeared and disap
peared again, the Mahdi must surely
be nearly the last of the series. If, on
the other hand, all the false prophets
have come and gone, who istheMalidi?
It is but too probable that Islam, or at
least a great part of it will answer the
question by proclaiming that Mahomet
Ahmed is the Messiah.
upon this
declar
The value of tree« In public thor
A scientific
ought arcs is well known,
writer has reocntly asserted that they
help to purify the air and increase its
circulation, the evaporation from their
leaves determining a current from
above, and tho fresh air thus brought
down assists in driving away ihe heated
and dust-impregnated gasos'of the street.
of foliage is, in hot, dry
weather it moistens the surrounding
atmosphere and bo renders it fitter to
breathe,
Ah >t lier
Old putty can be removed without
injury lo the sash or glass by passing
a hot soldering iron over it. The heat
of tho iron softens it readily, and per
mits its removal with a knife or chisel
witnont nraoh trouble.
—Among the Inmates of the "Old
People's Home" at Chicago is Guiteau's
mother-in-law,
—The Cleveland school authorities
are considering the question of abolish
ing semi-annual examinations.
—Fifty-nine thousand and forty-seveo
pupils are enrolled in the schools of 8t.
Louis. The expenses of the schools
for 1888 amounted to $872,000.