Saturday visitor., February 12, 1876, Image 1

About Saturday visitor. (Newark, Del.) 1876-1876

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Visitor.
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DEVOTED'TO LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS, 1GRICULTURE AND MISCELLANY.
\
VOL. I.
NEWARK, DEL,, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1876.
NO. 15.
fO ( t
li '»
1 •• : < .
V
UNDER THE SNOW.
Ah me, my garden llee under the enow,
The ehroudlng drifting enow ;
Each flower that I reared hae bowed ite head
Ita aweet bloom withered, its fragrance fled ;
1 eo loved them, llving,and mourn them dead
Dead under this Winter enow,
Lying beneath it, etiff and low,
Daad ! and I loved them eo !
Bnt the eun by and by will melt the enow.
The glittering ahrond of enow,
And the beautiful bud aud the etately tree
Will ehed their fragranoe again for me,
And my heart ahall be glad when my eyes shall
My treMnre« from under the enow
Thet my yearning love hath cherished 80 ,
Rise fair In the Summer glow.
God e garden liea under the ahrouding show,
The beautiful, sheltering snow ;
And the buds that He took from your hand
and mine,
Aro bnt waiting the time when His voice divine
Shall bid Hie aun on the garden shine,
And warm to life in ite glow
The precious germs lying under the enow,
That He took when Ho loved them so !
After Many Sorrows.
It was my eighteenth birthday, and
my kind aunt, by dint of.several months'
strict economy, had prepared a great
surprise for me—nothing less than a
party, the first Iliad ever been able to
call my own.
Many Were the gay assemblies I had
attended, and many, too, were the Invi
tations I had declined, for no other
reasons but that my pride revolted from
always accepting and never bestowing
them.
Not that It was good Aunt Martha's
fault, she who hud been to me from
earliest Infancy as a beloved mother;
had she hut possessed the means, 1 might
have filled her house with guests from
would only
felt pleasure in my enjoyment.
But she was the widow of a country
clergyman, and every one knows that
such are not apt to abound in riches;
In fact, Aunt Martha regarded herself
as especially blest Inasmuch as she was
left In her own comfortable home, with
a sufficient income for her support, with
care aud frugality.
Doubly thanktul was she for this
blessing when the death of her only
brother left his penniless orphan with
no protection on earth gave herself.
cellar to roof, and she
have
She had promised him to be a mother
to his child, and nobly had she kept her
word. No pleasure, no enjoyment, that
her limited means could afford were de
nied me, ami thus It chanced that,
denying herself, she sent out Invitations
for the evening of my eighteenth birth
day.
It was midsummer; the day was un
usually tyot; so wiwrranged that while
rhe refreshments should lie Berved In the
large, old-fashioned parlor, tlie games
and dancing should take place on tlie
lawn, the generous light bestowed by
lngextendeu into the shaded
portions by lanterns suspended from the
trees.
"I have asked our new neighbors,
Mabel," said my aunt, as we awaited
the coming of our guests ; "Mrs. Wiltou
and her daughter, and that young
nephew of hers: he is an orphan, they
say, and she brought him up; he lias
just received the degree of "Bachelor of
Arts" at college.—Hush!—here they
come now."
the moon be
A carriage rolled up to tlie door, and
from it alighted a gentleman, quickly
followed by tw o ladies.
Mrs. Wilton was a tall, dignified
woman, her hair white as snow, her
face still bearing traces of the beauty
which had been hers in years gone by ;
her manner cordial and unaffected, yet
(was it a prescience of the future?) 1
shrank hurriedly from her friendly
greeting, and turned with a sense of
relief toward her daughter, a fair,
brightrhaired beauty, w hose frail figure,
transparent complexion indicated one
of those delicate organizations which
are 111 fitted to cope with the sorrows
and trials of life.
A gentle, amiable, loving creature
was Laura Wilton, aud, perhaps, from
the very contrast to my own cold, ener
getic spirit, I soon learned to love and
cherish her as a dear friend.
She, on her part even on that first
evening of our acquaintance, seemed
equally attracted toward me and whith
ersoever I went, followed closely in my
footsteps, ever attended by her cousin.
Stacy Percival was tall and finely
formed—one of nature's noblemen—and
so widely diflerent from those I had been
accustomed to meet, that I listened with
rapt attention to the rich, mellow voice
which lent an interest to the most
trifling words.
That evening was the beginning of a
new epoch in my life.
The summer wore on, and scarce a
day passed that did not find Stacy,
Laura and myself in close companion
ship.
Riding, boating and walking, the
time went rapidly on, until the chill
days of autumn surprised us, and then
Mrs. Wilton and Laura departed for the
city, to remain through the winter
months.
And Stacy Percival accompanied them.
It was a rude shook, this suddenly
awakening from the sweet dream-'ike
life Into which 1 had Insensibly glided.
I had been so happy and contented with
my lot. the hours had flown so rapidly
that I had no time to pause and consider
what it meant—that strange joy which
filled my heart aud made the whole
earth seem radiant with beauty.
But now that It is all over, now that
I was left In my loneliness again, my
heart took counsel with itself, and whis
pered the truth in clear, startling
accents.
I loved Stacy Percival ! Yes, It was
too true I loved him—unasked,unsought.
I had given my heart to a stranger, und
my cheeks grew hot as I realized that
my affection for him was stronger than
that I ehorished for the dear, good rela
tive, who had eared for me my life long.
I despised myself. I would rather
have died thau acknowledge the truth,
and yet I could not deceive my own
heart. I knew only too well that It wus
the truth tliat I had bestowed my love
unsought.
A week after her departure, I received
a letter from Laura, in whieli she men
tioned that Stacy had gone out to the far
West, on some sudden business emer
gency, "for you know," the letter eon.
eluded, that Stacy has lately taken
into his own hands the control of the
immense importing establishment in
herited from his father.
No, I had not known it; had not
dreamed that Stacy Percival was a rich
man. I had thought him poor, penui
less like myself, and I dropped the letter
with a sigh.
Fain would I have convinced myself
that this was the reason he had gone
away and made no sign; he was rich, I
was poor, and, therefore, no fit wife for
him who might, wed whom he pleased;
but I could not believe it; I well knew
that no such sordid'motive could influ
ence him whom I loved; It was I who
was in fault, not my poverty.
I walked out in the grove behind the
old mansion I called my home, ana there
I sat down, resolved to think over it all
calmly, and therrto dismiss Stacy Per
cival from my thoughts forever; only
thus, I knew, could I hope to recover
ray best peace,
, He had taught me to love him, and
then he had gone silently away; I had
been buta summer's pastime to him;
yet, no ! he was too noble aud good to
have acted thus; it was my own vanity
alone that had led me to believe that I
was more to him than simply the inti
mate friends of his cousin.
He had shown me every attention;
yet, how could he avoid so doing, when,
because of our mutual affection for
Laura, we had been thrown so con
stantly together?
A quick step close by startled pie from
the painful reverie, and I raised my eyes
to meet the earnest, searching gaze of
Stacy Percival.
"Mabel !" he exclaimed, passionately,
"I have something that 1 had meant
to have told you a week ago, but my
aunt hurried me away to the city so sud
de it I y that 1 had no chance to speak to
you alone, and then business compelled
me to hasten to the West. Mabel, 1 have
traveled night and day that I might re
turn to you, and tell you that I love vou
aud want you for my own—all my own.'
Mabel, dear, dear Mabel, why do you
turn from me: Speak to me, Mabel
speak to me ! Not a word ? Then I have
offended you. Forgive me. i was a
fool to think you could loveonelike me:'
He turned and walked away, and 1
gazed after Him with a longing, fast
throbbing heart, that would not let me
call him back. I strove to speak, hut
my tongue seemed paralyzed.
Suddenly lie retraced his steps, his
face white and stern.
"Mabel, oh! Mabel, do you know
what you are doing—driving me to des
peratlon and despair ? Mabel, Mabel,
why did you let me have hope? You
must have seen that each passing daÿ
was making me love you more and more,
und yet did not check me. You per
mitted me to think- -oh ! Mabel !"
His voice died away in a deep drawn
moan, and sinking down beside me, his
head dropped on my knee.
1 found my voice then. The sight of
his sufferirtg broke the spell which held
me jtlert.-. J v \ .41
~"?Kacy,'oear Stacy*," l whispered,"ao
not grieve so. You are wrong. I—I—"
He lilted ins head, and never was
human countenance more radiant with
joy, lor the truth which my lips had re«
iused to utter was unmistakably written
0,1 "O', tell-tale face.
Wnli a glud.triumpliant cry 1 , he caught
me in Ids arms.
"My own, in y own, all mine, Mabel,
is H not so? My wile, my treasure!
Oh ! my darling, I don't deserve such
happiness as tills."
llow long we sat tliere beneath the
trees 1 kuow not, nor when the inter
view would have terminated, had not
the voice ol my aunt, summoning me to
the house, broke in upon our sweet eon
vt "' se ' • j
Stacy," said I, as he bade-me good
bye, "are you sure Mrs. Wiltou and
Laura will approve?"
He looked down at me with a startled
expression, and his cheeks lliiéhed.
"Why, yes; why should they not?
My aunt has always liked you, 1 and
Laura is your dear friend. Of course
they will approve. But what if they
should dot? and he pressed me to his
side with a wild energy. "What care
we, my darling? They cannet separnte
us, who love so dearly; \Vé are free
agents. And now, good-bye, my pet.
1 must hasten to the city and report my
return."
He walked hastily away, and I looked
after him until his tali ttgure became
lost In the distance. Then I went back
Into the house, my heart tilled with
mingled emotions of Joy, and bewilder
ment, and fear, for 1 could not dismiss
the feeling that such happiness could
not endure, but must be the precursor
of coming misfortune.
Strange how the shadows of the future
will sometimes cross our hearts and
darken them, even in the midst of the
noonday of joy I
The next day I received a letter from
Stacy. Business would detain him from
me several days. I wrote In reply, as
he desired, and with his second letter
f.yet distant from it) came a note from
Mrs. Wilton, requesting me to meet her
at her country house, half a mile dis
tant, on the following da^'.
Wondering what the strange sum
ruons could import, I proceeded with
not a little trepidation, to RavensWood,
and found Mrs. Wilton awaiting me.
bhe seemed greatly agitated, and
a "v, 0 » 0 , 6 t"e object of her visit.
Miss Mabel, 1 have left the city, se
cretly and hurriedly,u> ask you whether
you think it is the part of one friend to
steal from another that which she most
values? Tell me, truly, is such an act
honorable, or like a friend ?"
"No—no —certainly not!" I stam
inered, while my heart grew cold, for I
dreaded what was to come.
" Yet you have done this," she went
ou, in a hard, ringing voice; "youhave
rofes8ed to be Laura's friend! You
ave tried to take from her the heart of
one who lias taught her to love him,
who has told her that she, and none
other should be his wife. In short,
Miss Markoe, you have beguiled au eu
gaged man into whispering'love ditties
In your ears, and forsaking one to whom
he is bound by every tie of honormnd
humanity! Do you hear, girl? He is
a faithless, dishonorable man, and but
that Laura would die of a broken heart,
you might have him in welcome. Oh!
Mabel ! Mabel !" she added, lier voice
changing to one of pleading, with start
ling rapidity, "have pity op your friend!
have mercy on me i do not kill my child !
Stacy has whispered of love to her for
years past. She dias twined her affec
tions around hipj, until, to lose him
new, frail, weak girl that she is. would
he her death blow. Oh 1 Mabel ! give
;
him up; send him from you, and he j
Will return to Laurti. Be just, be
generous, and Heaven will reward the
deed l" 1 v •< 1
She knelt to me—she, that white
haired mother—wringing her hands in
agony, and I listened, with-a stolid, stony
composure.
"If Laura were only stronger ; if she
were able to bear the shock of his fajth
lcssness—but sire must never know h
nearly her happiness was Wrecked; the
knowledge would bring her to the gravé,
Give him back'to her, Mabel; fickle,
dishonorable as belt, her life depends
on her belief tn his truth. He taught
her to love him, to trust in him. She
had no thought of the future apart from
biin, Mabel, will you kill your friend?'
She looked up at me, her features cou
torted and agonized, and with a power
ful effort I shook myself free from the
cold stupor that seemed to paralyze my
whole being, I* ■ *
*1
, „ ,, 1 , t | t ,'„ lu; \ Wdtou? v I asked,
Ji-aîLw? „ e ,. W uvO^?* 181 m ? ta } 1 '' : rin g
le'mval pledged
uj ? f ra S n " ao ever as ked her to be
,,^1. i. . - i ,
VilZ? 8 ,' t i, 8 . trlle > an< * s,ie believes
, faithful. They werfe to be married
a "J? m ®»thS tieuce, but you—"
. * Kl ,. 110 *' P r fe ven t ft! Lfet Laura
<i1„:, m ' • . , _ ,
„ . yo ? 'S" "give hud up?,", she
cr |ed, eagerly, her pale cheeks flushing,
"es.; why not? lie is Laura's, not
«>?' ■ „ ,
f.U? lo °hed at me wonderlngly.
ï0 " H Vl a 110>,; girl, Mabel; not
many would be so generous.
''Yes T'wdl write >!" '
"And'at once .it.a.,..« i.i.
falsehood? There are nn.„.v
.Qq,! Mabel relieve a motherV mixieit'
ami Ssmisa him nL that I n » ' '
the note at once—this very hour
' ""do-tnis very hour,
." lth the sara0 apathetic composure I
88t "own and wrote as she desired, a
. v wor " s —°»I.v a few (yet, oh ! how'
fraught With bitter sorrow,) telling him
that j wished him to forget til that had
passed between us, and mat 1 thought It
best for us to not meet again, as my. de
•*emma«ou was unalterable.
Then I gave the note to Mrs. Wiltoir,
that she might see that I had really sent
"'JJ? 1101,1 me>
a,« '* * v * , * e
Months passed ôn* auu there cainct uu
word or sign fjrbm Stacy Percival, 1
heard from Lntlra occasionally'—not so
fre J U0n , u y as a l}brst, for I studiously
suffered our correspondence to droop,
aiul nnaHy it died entirclynway.
Spring and summer passed by, and
the leaves bçmm to fall and rustle ou the
ground, dead and sear as my own sor
rowing heart.
I tried tô forget, to be as I had been
ere I had dreamed my brief love dream;
a "d in the sight of tire world I
ceeded, but good Aunt Martha shook
her head and sighed, as she looked upon
me, though she wisely rfefl uiued frqln
-k- : irt'.j 1 - }
One b%ht dav I received an invita
tion to the wedding of Liurra Wilton
and Stacy Percival.
I did not go, though I had long
thought to do so, and thus prove to him
that I had not suffered ; but I had over
rated my strength, and in tears of agony
I passed the hours until I knew that he
l loved was the husband of another, and
then, not till then, I realized that hope
had not deserted me, for only then did
U fold its wings and lie down and die.
:. * * ■, * .- * * » *
Several years passed slowly om Aunt
Martha had gone to sleep in the church
yard, and 1, for the second time au
orphan, was left alone in the gloomy old
mansion.
Ope day a visitor was announced, ami
I entered the parlor to meet Stacy Per
cival.
"Mabel," he commenced abruptly',
a f" !r one long, earnest look into my
downcast face; "Mabel, I have to tell
you a tale of suffering, and sorrow, and
wrong. Let me tell you of It all calmly
a "d coherently, if I can, Mabel, that
note you sent me—it made me a broken,
stricken man. To he cast off By one 1
loved; and told that she had discovered
she loved another more than me—it was
almost my death blow. Do not start
and look Incredulous, Mabel. Here is
the. note, look at it! But for that all
would have been welt, for I would.have
sought you, and the clouds would have
been swept away. Listen, Mabel, I
know that you did not write that note,
that you never saw it. It was Mrs.
Wilton, my aunt, who wrote it I
Laura, as you know, died more than
a year ago, and Irom the hour Of her
death, her mother's health rapidly de
clined, until scarce one month spice,
she too, passed from earth,
Lying there on her death bed, she told
me flow she had seeu the love which
was growing up between us, and it liav
' n S been her cherished desire that I
should m»rry Laura, because of my
Wealth, she rfeâolved to separate us.
When I returned to the city after our
sweet interview, I told her, as in duty
bound, of the lioniùact we entered lut*,
SI... lier Warm approval, butds
sired me to keep It a secret from Laura ;
why, shq did not explain. Then she
went down to Ravenswood ami told you
that she had discovered our secret, and
that lier child would die if you did not
give me up. She wrought up ybur
sitiVc heart until rou wrote this, the
true note, froh) which she.-modeled the
false. She was ever an adeptin copying
the handwriting of others. Her object
was to prevent my seeking an explana
twin, and in tills she was but too suc
cessful.
I traveled for several months, and
when I returned my aunt told me that
Laqra loved nie, that If I wished .to pre
serve her life I must at least feign the
love I did not feel, and make her my
wife tn pltv for her weakness. At first
I resisted ; then yielded ; the future had
no joys for me, but If I could make
Laura happy, I would at least be of some
use in the world. But, oh ! Mabcl,there,
too, was falsehood and wrong, rfor my
dying aunt confessed that while her
child loved me as a brother, she desired
no closer relationship, anil all her
mother's influence was needed to induce
her to give my suit a favorable answer,
Ah I Mabel, how much sorrow would
have been spared us had 1 been a poor
man ! •
"Awl now.my darling,I have told you
this, a free man, to ask you again to be
my wife, to share a happy future with
me. Will you come to me, Mabel?"
He opened wide his arms, and I—I
laid my head peacefully on his noble
breast, my heart full to overflowing with
thankfulness and love, and scarce able
ow
■
But how
ay post.
s
sue
si'll
j to realize that after the stLrm had
sunshine, after many sorrows, jov.
come
Marriage nwrong the Daksiweyaus
Marriage is g most complicated cere
mony among the Dahomoyans. Sim
plified, tho rationale is as follows : If a
,young man takes a fancy to a young
woman he dispatches sonic of his friends
as embassadors to the lady's father,
laden with presents of rum aud
ries. A council of the relatives is
voned. If the suitor lias offendeff any
lnqui
cow
con
of them the öfter Is rejected. If
ries are, on tho contrary, satisfactory,
Afa, the god of wisdom, is consulted;
anil It Is generally noted that If the
present has been sufficient, • favorable
answer is given. If, on thet contrary,
the presents t^e returned tilt negotia
tions are at an end. The nevy stage is
to pay for her, and tlie bride«room and
all his relatives to boot, strain every
effort to get together the requisite. Be
sides doing the betrothal, the bride
groom has to meet all the fetish charges
to which the bride may Ue subject.
These are not a few.; for if the fetish
priests discover that they have a bleed
able subject, they are not backward in
the discovery that some important sac
rifice or ceremony essential lo the hap
piness of the young couple had been
neglected. The bride Is then escorted
by her friends and relatives to the
future home. A great entertainment is
given In the courtyard of the house;
though during the entertainment the
bridegroom is not allowed to see any
thing of Ms wife. The feasting con
tinues to midnight, or even to cock
crow, after which the company retire,
and the fetish priest leads the'bride to
lier husband, accompanying the cere
mony with many good otlv
aud to liim. "We have brought your
wife," they say; "take her, flog her if
she is had, aud cherish her if she is
good." Tlie health of tlie "happy
couple" is then drunk, and they dually
take their departure. After a week tlie
bride rcLurns to her father's house, and
spuds u present of cooked food to her
husband, who feturus the compliment
by a gift of rum, cowries, ana cloth.
Next morning sfic returns to her hus
band's house, goes to market purchases
provisions, and prepares a feast, to
which lifer husband's flrleilds are alone
Invited. The honeymoon is now over,
and tlie little wife subsides down into
the prosaic Ilia of a Dahomey an matron.
—[" The Move» gtf Mankind," Dr. Robert
Drown.'
'ices to her
The Psuioel that Induré Disease.
The passions which act most severely
on the physical life are anger, fear,
hatred and grief. The other passions
arc comparatively Innocuous. What
called the passion of love is not Injuri
ous until it lapses into grief and anx
iety; on tho contrary, it sustains the
physical powers. What Is calji'd ambi
tion is of itself batailles*; fw ain'-Hion,
aiUea.HiexliJ) puM*y|Us lift
ing its ownefe fromlhimself into «» ex
alted service 1 of mankind, Injures
when it Is deiiased by its meaner ally,
pride, or when, stimulating a nianto too
strenuous efforts after sonic grett ob
ject, it leads him to the performaice of
exoossive mental or physical labor, and
to tlie consequences that follow such
effort. The passion called avarife, ac
cording to my experience, tends lather
to the preservation of the body than to
its deterioration. The avaricious!man,
who seems to tjic luxurious worh to be
debarring himself of all the pleasures
of tlie world, aud even to he exipsing
himself to the fangs of poverty, II gen
erally placing himself in precise cyndl-'
tions favorable to a long and iietlthy
existence. By his economy he Is sav
ing himself from all the \forry iiicipent
to penury ; by his caution he is icieen
ing himself from all the risks incident
to speculation né the attempt to amass
wealth by liazkrdous means; by his
regularity of hours and perfect appro
priation of the sunlight in prefei
to artificial Illumination, he rests and
works iu periods that precisely accord
with the periodicity ot nature; hi his
abstemiousness in living he ' ■
enough to live, whioh is pi a^ql/tlie
right thing to do according to th* rigid
natural law. Thus, ill almost (every
particular, he goes ou his way freer
than other men from the external causes
of all the induced diseases, am} better
protected than most men from tie
consequences of those disease- 1 i
spring from causes that arc.WF J ttrel
iable.
fence
just
worst
liich
i
Tnehy gr»phto.
Proceedings of the Boston) Tuihy
graphic Society: "Judge ijurnham
proposed to drop 'a' from 'lieijd,' etc.,
and'uarh'from 'thous-h.' etc., in writ
and 'ugh' from 'though,' etc.,in writ
ing to our friends, and thus finally let
the worst forms disappear, as liave 'u'
from 'labour' aud 'k' from 'allixinack.'
Millions of minutes and money are lost
through tlie want of simple ailherence
to tlie phonetic, rule. Let ea:b letter
have only one i|Ound, and es, b sound
letter. As MO tlie 'long band' evil,
lie said/that. tb$re are io th« United
States more ttiair a half raiillo py.Xes
sioual penmen. »Now a rapid' penman
can write thirty words to aanluite. To
do this he must draw Ills jss. ..hrougli
one rod. In live and one-hall hours
ids pen travels one mile. Avuraging
sixteen curves to one word, at) thirty
words per minute, one makes In u day
of only five hours, 144,000 stmkes, and
in a year of 300 days, 43,200,00). If each
writer traces a mark 300 mtleelong in a
year, 550,000 writers trace 115,
miles. And as to the stroke,',
000x550,000=23,760,000,000,00«. And all
this without reckonin
of people, say !
States, who in
.
.000
43,2X1
ckoning the great mass
30,000,000 in tlie United
n the aggregate write tin
other equally large total."
i
How Mach to Eat.
In order to keep the system jiealthy,
food should be judiciously cousiiineil.
The harder a man works the morn nu
triment lie requires. While a^vorkiug
man would need daily five pounds of
solid miked food, two and sjialf wbuld
be enough for persons who lounge and
sleep muoh. Life ean be sustained two
or three weeks on two ounces a day! A
change of .diet should follow a elufeige
of seasons—in winter, fat anil a welts;
In summer,' fruits, fish, and lighter
meats. Milk and eggs, a blood food ;
steak, a flesh fixai ; potatoes and wheat,
which belugheated material, are fuel;
and coffee a stimulant, it Is important
that the workman should cat mixed
food, which, partaken of at regular sea
sons, stimulates the system, aad keeps
it in working order.
The Distance sfwatar frasa the Earth.
For many ages this question puzzled
astronomers: How far oil'are the stars?
It was known that their distance was
great, very great. It was known that
they were immeasurably farther off
than the sun, the moon, or any of the
planets; but it is only in the present
century that the question has
partially answered.
Of the countless thousands of stars
which stud the universe, the distance
of perhaps about twenty lias been de
termined. Others which
tried havo defied the powers of the most
skillful astronomers. It is impossible to
explain here the maimer in which it is
conducted ; we must endeavor, rather,
to realize the result which lias rewarded
these successful labors. Tliere is a
beautiful star in tile southern hemi
sphere, the brightest in the constella
tion Centaur, one of the most brilliant
stars In the heavens. This was dili
gently observed by the skillful astrono
mer who managed the observatory at
the Cape of Good Hope in the years 1832
and 1833. He found, as the result of
his labors, that the distance of this star
—Alpha Centauri, as It is called—Is
twenty billions of miles.
It requires a little consideration to
estimate what the words twenty billions
of miles really mean. A billion contains
one million millions, and we shall en
deavor to convey an idea of this amount
by a few simple illustrations. Suppos
ing that our great forefather, Adam,
had commenced to count as quickly as
lie could, and that when his life was
ended, Ills sou commenced to count,
taking up from the number at which
Adam left off, and spent his whole life
day and night, counting as fast as he
could, and supposing that at his death
he enjoined on his heirs an eternity of
counting, and that they had continued
doing so up to the present moment,
their united efforts would not yet have
reached the amount of a quarter of a
billion ; and yet the distance of the star
Is twenty billions of miles.
Another Illustration may be given to
convey an idea of this vast distance. If
we were to take a sum equal to live
times our national debt, and were to
expend this in postage stamps,we should
get one billion of them ; and if we were
to draw a line around London, including
every house In the suburbs, and then
take an area equal in size to this, cleared
and arranged for the purpose; if we
then commenced to stick them aide by
side over the entire area of Iaindon, we
should not be able to get them all in.
After we had covered every Inch of
•surface completely, tliere would be
countless thousands still remaining.
Such, then, is the distance of the
nearest fixed star. We cannot grasp it
in oUr imagination, nor are
successful if we try to make a map.
Suppose we proceed by first laying
down the sun, and then placing
earthbite inch distant from it. 1
inquire: sot what distinoe the nearest
star kheuld be placed' using, the saiu«
BCkle/'Wfe 'linlr it to ffc elcffen milesf
Such a map -is, therefore, simply
impossibility.
Knowing, however, the distance of
tlie nearest star, what can wo say of the
distance of the farthest of those that are
visible ? Here precise knowledge falls.
We can, indeed, grope after the truth,
and make guesses of a greater or less
probability. We believe that it is, at
all events, some hundreds of times as
great as the astounding magnitude of
which wc have endeavored to convey an
impression; but the human mind bc
bewildered in attempting to
realize the immensity.
been even
liave been
we more
the
f we
an
comes
Whales at Bay.
As soon os all had taken their seats,
says a writer, describing the scene, in
the A't. James Magazine, we rowed off
silently, with double-banked oars. Five
large boats were all wc could man, as
many ot the fishermen had gone to the
hanks in the morning; though their
brown sails wore in sight, time did not
allow of tlielr recall. Our armament
was most ludicrous; bosldc guns, we
carried axes, lances, old swords, and
several kettles for making a noise with.
Several were busy improvising a formi
dable weapon by fastening soy the blades
to short poles; one man, called while
mowing, sat in the bow, holding his
scythe.
As we left the cove the women kept
calling after us, and wishing good luck,
and then hurried to tho cliffs, where
they watched tlie progress of the chase.
Making a long detour, the boats were
quietly formed in a semi-circle to sea
ward of the dark group, which appeared
unconscious of our approach ; as soon
as all were placed, the leader fired a gun,
and we bore down upon the whales with
all speed, shouting and splashing the
water. A movement is seen among the
whales, dark forms disappear and pres
ently emerge again ; they move slowly
at first, then increasing their speed rush
In a foaming crowd toward the shore.
We follow at our utmost speed, re
S rdless of the spray that dashes over
e boat. Suddenly the fish pause, feel
ing, (perhaps, by instinct, that they are
gettfnadnto shoal water, they turn, seem
to deliberate and select the weakest spot
for a charge ; our speed is slackened,
and all prepare for a struggle. After a
moment's pause, headed by the largest
of tlie herd, they rushed at my boat
which happened to be In the centre of
the line. On they came, raising a wall
of foam, behind which are dimly seen
arched bucks and agitated fins; we shout,
fire our guns, throw stoues, and dash
the oars in the water They hesitate ; a
few plunge under the boat; Ifeel their
bucks scrape against the keel as we are
thrown over and half filled with water
from a gigantic fish; terrified and
spouting blood, the whale rushes back
into the herd, aud heads for the shore
in his blind agony.
redouble our exertions, and the
fish,finally yleldihg,follow their wound
ed companion and fling themselves on
the shore, where they lie wallowing in
the shallow water. With a cry of tri
umph borne bock from the women who
stood on the cliff, dancing aud waving
their arms in delight at the pros)>ecl of
an abundant winter supply of food, all
the boats rowed for the shore, each
striving to be first to commence the fight.
With a final cheer the men drove the
boats in among the fish, leaped out,
began to strike right and left. Q
satisfied with my exertions, I sat In the
boat and watched the strange combat,
already closing, as the poor, stupid fish.
Ignorant of their strength; fell easy
victims to their determined enemies.
The sight was strange and striking;
the cloudless sun was shining on the
waves of the hay ; but, except over a
a
We
and
uite
off
to
is
a
at
a
large patch, many yards in extent, dyed
red with blood. Each wave showed a
stream of crimson as it washed over the
glistening bodies, rejoicing that it
insult the strange forms that had lately
swam lords of the deep. Behind a
narrow beach rose the steep cliff, down
which were running the women and
children, their shriUeries rising above
the shouts of the men and roar of the
waves. Gradually the tumult ceased,
except where a whale in the last throes,
wrapped himself in a cloud of bloody
spray, and deluged the men who stood
by watching for another blow.
Find* In the Rng-Bag.
Tlie '.finds" in the rag-bag and the
rubbish-heap are sometimes not a little
curious. A mistress allows Betty, tlie
maid to keep a rag-bag; am* asion
ally Betty, yields to tin 1 ten.; ion of
putting into that bag articles which are
certainly not rags. But apart from any
suspicion of dishonesty, valuables find
themselves in very odd places, through
inadvertency or forgetfulness. We need
not say much about such small creatures
as insects, spiders, or lizards, that are
found by the paper-makers in bundles
of esparto ; they are unwelcome Intru
sions rattier than finds. A patent lock
was onoe found among the contents of
a family rag-bag ; and
five shillings, the buy
tent. An old Latin prayer-book, bought
as waste-paper, hail a bundle of nails,
curiously linked together, packed in
side it. Half-sovereigns aud other coins
are found in cast-off. pockets, in tlie
heels of old stockings, aud inside the
linings of dresses. An old coat, pur
chased by a London dealer, revealed tlie
fact—a joyful fact to the buyer—tliat
the buttons consisted of sovereigns cov
ered witii cloth. Three pounds sterling
in German paper money, found their
■ay into a bundle of German rags that
reached a paper-maker. The London
Rag Brigade boys once found a bank
check-book, and on another occasion
six pairs of new silk stockings in waste
paper and rags which they had bought;
these unexpected articles were, to tlie
honor of tlie Brigade, at once returned.
A rare find once occurred in the
Houndsditch region. A dealer—of tlie
gentle sex, we are told—gave seven
pence and a pint of beer for a pair of
old breeches; while tlie bargain was
being ratified at a public house, the
buyer began to rip up the garment,
when out rolled eleven gold guineas
wrapped tip in a thirty-pound bank
note. We rather think, that in strict
ness of law, tlie guineas of this treasure
trove belonged to the crown ; but most
likely the elated buyer and the morti
fied seller made merry over the wind
fall. Many people, iii the days when
hanking was little understood, had a
habit of concealing their spare money
about their person ; thus, an old waist
coat, bought for a trifle-, was found
lined with tpmk notes ! Ijnt of all the
finds, what shall wc thtyk of a i/wV>/•'
A paper raijteufacturcr a"Sn»es us that
a Gag 1 ofrags brought i isfirt Leghorn!,
and Opened at Edinburgh-paper mil' a
tiny baby was found, pressed almost
flat. Poor bantling ! Was ft accidently
squeezed to death in a turn-up bed
stead, or was some darker tragedy asso
ciated with its brief history.— Chamb
Journal.
ruilM
as it was worth
er was well con
Vi
in
Aristocracy In tbe Prnnslau Army.
How closely the interests of the aris
tocracy are allied with those of the army
In Prussia Is evident from the following
statistics gathered froth the Prussian
"Army List," (' Rang and Quartier Liste')
tor 1875, published at Berlin on the 30th
of November. The royal family of Prus
sia counts fourteen of its members in
the army, the Annin family has forty
six, the Bismarck nineteen, the Alvens
ieben twenty-four, the Bluolicr fifteen,
the Blumcnthal fifteen, the Bulo"; thir
ty-two, the Kleisli thirty-three, the Man
tcuffel thirteen, the Puttliaminer twenty •
four, the Schwerin fifteen, the Seckcn
dorff twelve, the Treskow twenty-three,
the Wcdell tlilrty-two, the Winterfell!
twenty-eight, the Wulflen eleven, ami
the Zastrow family ten. There arc nine
Field Marshals In the Prussian army—
namely, the King of Saxony, the Crown
Priuce of Prussia, Prince Frederick
Charles, the Grand Duke Duke of Meck
lenburg, Prince An gust of Wurtemberg,
Counts Wrangel, Moltkc, Steinmetz,
Boon Herwath von Rittenfeld,and Baron
Manteuffcl. The senior and oldest Field
Marshal is Count Wrangel, who is
ninety-two years of age, and has been
in the army for eighty years, aud was
raised to the rank of Field Marshal in
1856. There are also in addition in the
Prussian army fifty-three Generals, six
ty-six Lieutenant-Generals, aud one
hundred and fifty-one Major-Generals.
The youngest officer in the army is ap
parently Prince Frederick Leopold, soli
of Prince Frederick Charles, and who,
although only ten years of age,is shown
In the "Army List" as Second Lieuten
ant in the 1st Regimeut of the Guards.
2.
in
BlatlMUea-Tlie Utile World or ion
(lee.
Here are some curious statistics about
Loudon, from one of tlie papers Issued
by tlie London City Mission :
It covers within the fifteen miles'
radius of Charing Cross nearly 7tK)
square miles.
It numbers within these boundaries
4,000,000 Inhabitants.
It comprises 100,000 foreigners from
every quarter of tlie globe.
It contains more Roman Catholics
than Rome itself, more Jews than the
whole of Palestine, more Irish than
Dublin, more tieotcluncn than Edin
burgh, more Welshmen than Cardiff,
and more country-born persons than
the counties of Devon, Warwickshire,
and Durham com billed.
It has a birth in it every five minutes,
a death In it every eight minutes, and
■even accidenta every day in its 7,000
miles of streets.
It has on au average twenty-eight
miles of new streets opened and 0,000
new houses built in it every year.
It lius 1,000 ships and 9,000 sailors in
its port every day.
It hap 117,000 habitual criminals on
Its police register, increasing at an
average of 30,000 per annum.
It has as many beer-shops and gin
palaces as would, If placed side by side,
streteli from Charing Cross to Ports
mouth, a distance of seventy-three
miles.
It lias as many paupers as would more
than occupy every house ill Brighton.
It has an influence with all parts of
the world, represented by the yearly
delivery in Its postal districts of 238,
000,000 letters.
to
NEW8 IN BRIEF
—In Pendleton, Oregon, tliere is a
grandmother aged 32.
—Tlie Kansas Legislature has elected
a colored minister as chaplain.
—I.owell, Mass., has eighty
employing a capital of $18,000
—Under the New Constitution of
Texas nine of a jury may render a
diet.
—Ezra Cornell, the founder of Cor
nell University, New York, is to have a
monument.
—It is said tliat not a single member
of tlie Minnesota Legislature was born
in tliat State.
two mills
, 000 .
ver
—Prairie du Chien lias an artesian
well 717 feet deep which throws up 30
000 barrels of water a day.
—Nebraska added thirty per cent, to
her population last year, notwithstand
ing tlie pesky grasshoppers.
—Rev. James Freeman Clarke lias
been pastor of tlie Church of tlie Disci
ples in Boston for thirty-five years.
—The keel of a new tug boat which
was recently laid in San Francisco
was
composed ot one stick of timlffer 140
feet long.
—The Sing Sing Prison Laundry is
iniurlng the washing business in New
York city. Even Ah Sing can't com
pete with Sing Sing.
—There are in Illinois, according
a late report of the Board of Education,
iifty-four colleges for males, six for
females, and thirty-five academies and
to
seminaries.
-Ex-Senator Henderson, of Missouri
who at first conducted the suits against
tho members of the St. Louis whisky
ring, demands, it is said, $.'10,000 for
his services.
—Ten million six hundred and thirty
seven thousand nine hundred dollars'
worth of fires in New England In 187".,
not including poetic fires and centen
nial orations.
—Curator W. R. Smith, of the Bo
tanic garden, at Washington after hav
ing carefully cared for a fun palm for
twenty two years, is repaid by seeing It
covered with blossoms.
—The Savannah News says there is
no portion of the South where indus
trious laborers are not needed and
where they would not find immediate
employment at good wages.
—Benjamin Downing, "the oldest
Odd Fellow in the world.
has just
died at Newport. He lacked two
months of being 102 years old. The
oddest old fellow in the world still
lives.
/
—The ehnmplon farmer is Michael
Sullivan, of Ford County, 111., who has
22,000 acres In wheat, and 6,000 in oats
and flax. He has 400 teams at w
and no less than 800 persons ow,
place,
—One of the Important points of con
trast betweenithe days of 1778 and the
present time is found in Wall street.
When the Declaration of Independence
was signed there was not a bank in
America.
—A petition is before the Massachu
setts Legislature praying for the revo
cation of the sentence of banishment
passed against Roger Williams by the
General Court of the Province of Mas
sachusetts Bay.
— J. M. VanCott, in answer toa letter
from his client, Mrs. Emma C. Moul
ton, has advised her that she does not
need to take any steps to vindicate her
self from the eharge of perjury brought
bv Mr. Beecher.
—New York boasts of 444 newspa
pers and periodicals, of which 28 arc
daily and semi-weekly, 137 weekly, 22
semi-monthly, 139 monthly, 3 bi
monthly and 16 quarterly. Thirty-two
are In foreign languages.
—The Cheyenne Leader estimates
that 10,000 people bave gone to
Black Hills raining region during the
last 3 months; they have come from all
directions, from the South, Utah, Cali
fornia, Nevada, Idaho and Montana.
—Bully for old Kentucky 1 Her total
bonded debt isonly $184,394, and against
this she lias iu cash $1,195,382. The
State has, yierefore, money
enough to pay every dollar it
leave a balance on hand
000 .
ork.
his
■
the
on hand
owes and
of over $1,000,
—There is a young lady in Georgia
who weighs 203 pounds, and is 6 feet
2. She is also accorded the palm of
beauty throughout the State. A proper
reserve withholds her name, but in
quiry of any one at Camilla, Ga., will
fetch it.
—Augustus Schell, Chairman of the
National Democratic Executive Com
inittqc, has called a meeting of that
committee in Washington on February
22, to name the time and place for hold
ing the next National Democratic Con
ven tion.
—Indianapolis has lost ft colored
man. known as Aunt Sally Williams,
106 years old. She had a very large
family, all the members of which, so
far as she could learn, had died of old
age, excepting one son still living in
Lexington, Ky.
—Iu tlie State of New York there are
expended annually more than $10«, (XX)
000 by consumers of liquor, or two
thirds of all the wages paid to laborers
in agriculture and manufactures, anil
twice as much as the receipts of all the
railroads of the State.
u n
—Macon, Ga., believes in retrench
ment. She has reduced the salary of
the Mayor from $2,500 to $1,500 and
other officers in proportion, cut down
tlie police force from forty to four men,
shut off tlie gas, and dismissed tlie
Street Commissioner and his force. Tlie
city never got along so peacefully in
tlie world,
^— J. G. Chapman is tlie name of a
New Haven philanthropist, who during
tlie past year, has placed 2,120 postage
stamps on letters dropped in tiie post
office staiupless, at a cost of $42.40. The
New Haven folks must be awful care
less with their letters, or else they like
to give Mr. Chapman opportunities for
exercUiiig his peculiar philanthropy.
—A little German girl, Rosa Cotter
f ears, of Bloomington,
In the w iy of an lofu
riated cow while she put four or five
smaller children over a fence. lier
clothing was nearly torn from tier, and
she was badly bruised, bnt the Mayor
and police force, as they descended
p-posta and telegraph
d in praise of her cour
man, aged ten
from the lam;
imles. were loin
age.