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THE ADVERTISER Free Circulation, 2,000. MORROW & CRAWFORD, Publishers. . WILMINGTON, DEL., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1879, NO. 14. YOL. I. FLOWERS OF MEMORY. The drifted snow, in foldings deep Old Winter soon shall bring; Onr dainty flowers shall go to sleep. And will not wake till spring. The soft blue sky he'll torn to gray. The blossoms make to fall, Then shall he steal them quite away— And we forget them all? Nay! even tho' hi, touch shall bring The frost, and chill, and buow, In memory, still, the b rds Khali sing, And still the flowers blow. The purple Pansies, one by one, Shall lift their fragrant beads, And cooled by ra n, and kissed by sun, Shall light the garde -beds. The summer sunlight still bbaJ stream. The Boses deeper glow. The warm Nasturtiums bri .btly beam, And fainting breezes blow. The Tulips etdl shall plant thoir fires, high— What lo ing heart of beau'y tires In memory laid by? Tho' winter winds LADY MARGERY. Isidor Vignaux !" Lady Margery's hand trembled slightly, and her face grew color less ; but she did not glance up from her escritoire where she was writing invitations upon satiny, perfumed note-sheets, bearing the gilded crest of the honorable house of Edes. "Who is he, my dear ?" she questioned, carelessly of her indolent, Saxon fair hus band who lounged near, smoking fragrant cigerettcs. "A rather nice sort of fellow, Margery; French, and not very young, you know. I met him on the Continent last season. '••But Is not our fist full enough, Gamier? Of course, I will invite him if you wish, but do you think it well to ask people here, about whom we kuow so little, now that Miriam—" "Is a baby yet," laughingly interrup * ... .. "Why, Margery, -tlnr-jP will not be out for Beveral seasons ; so do not commence to worry your head about settlements for her. As for this Vignaux, he cares more for a quiet game of ccarte than for any pink-faced girl in Christen dom. Not that I'm so particular about in viting him only he is staying with Creigh ton, and I can scarcely avoid it.'' "Very well ; as you say, of course," re joined Lady Edes, calmly; not caring to ex cite the curiosity of her husband by too pointed an exhibition of dislike to this stranger's coining. "Though, what are the odds ?" she ex claimed, passionately, dashing down her pen when Lord Edes had left the room. "What have I to hope from lsidor when once he comes here and recognises me ? And yet a reprieve ever so slight, is like a spar to a drowning wretch." Again the lady's jeweled hand moved rapidly to and fro over the paper. But when she had completed the note which summoned to her home the man who had the power to desolate, she arose and paced the floor in an agony of dread and despair. Yet an hour later, when she sat at lun cheon with the few guests already assem bled, there was no trace upon her haughty face of the secret buried in her heart ; no more than when sho stood, handsome, cold, and proud, beforo the stranger lier husband introduced with such careless, pleasant freedom "Lady Edes, allow me. Monsieur Vig naux. I have pledged myself to turn him out one of the best cross-field riders in the district. " "Ah, madam, Lord Edes lias been prom ising me all manner of sports and plea sures, but he has not painted the half. What delight, indeed, could compare with being the guest of so charming a hostess?" and the Frenchman bowed gallantly. Yet not the most observant watcher could have detected that these two had met be fore. Only Lady Margery kuew that those keen brilliant eyes held a sneering consciousness within their depth of days when their owner had not been wont to greet Garnier Edes's wife as he greeted her now. But she did not quail before this con sciousness. No matter that tho cloud overshadowing her grew blacker and more threatening ; she would meet her fate proud to the last. And this haughty spirit lsidor Vignaux admired. Knowing to the full his power over this woman he liked to feel how he could torture her ; how utterly from her high and hitherto happy position he could disthronc and de grade her. And watching her, lie detected the affec tion and the fear, the color and the pallor. that came to her eyes and face as, with the bringing in of the dessert, a fairy figure, ■With eyes blue as a sunshiny sky, flitted into the room. "Ah, ah, she loves this creature—his child it must be. Well, it is a pretty thing : but not to be compared to her dark, proud, passionate self." Yet Vignaux kept his gaze upon Miriam and registered a vow concerning her. Did Lady Edes fathom, hi^thoughts? Certainly the girl'Was seisin tobe seen after that day. The Frenchman merely smiled as he noted the fact. He was in high favor with the guests, and enjoyed the spirits. It seemed that he could well dispense with making himself agreeable to a. baby faced schoolgirl. He even did not often put himself in direct association with the dark eyed host ess who treated him with unfathomable careless pride. And Lady Edes ? She endured each day's suspense without the slightest betrayal of its exquisite torture. Vignaux could not discover that she writhed under his most exalted or insinuat ing complements And. who should guess, who could know of the bitter night vigils she kept, when she' stole softly from lier dressing room to shed hot, heart broken tears at Miriam's bedside, or to bend above her husband's unconscions form in an agony of deathless and dreading love ? But still the blow that she expected had not fallen, though the guests were prepar ing to say farewell to their noble hosts. Sometimes Margery drew her brcatli in a sudden spasm of hope. Perhaps Vignaux meant to spare her. But when she was dressed for dinner the last day of the Frenchman's stay, and came out into the upper corridor; she was un deceived. a so he in of ly advanced to meet her. you in the billiard-room while th^enuchieh are-till at tahlej" he whis pered with easy insolence, as they were joined by another guest. Lady Edes marvelled how she lived through that dinner iiour, though hers was the most brilliant repartee, the readiest laughter. But Vignaux saw the unutterable woe that dilated her eyes as her glance, while leaving the room, rested upon lier husband's face. _ Ten minutes later she stepped billiard-room and found her enemy await ing lier. "Pray be seated, Lady Edes, into the he said, gallantly, as she stopped, haughtily, a few steps from him. She threw lier head back proudly. "No need, sir; our interview must be brief." "For fear that you will be discovered here ? It would not be nearly so unpleas ant a fact as a certain truth I could reveal. However, wc will be quits concerning that upon one condition, Margery." "Name it." "I want to marry Lord Edes's daughter, and-" "Her forty thousand a year," suggested Lady Edes, scornfully. "Of course 1 like the money :-but let me toil you a truth, my Mack eyed beauty. I could renounce it for your sweet sake ; but I know you will not come—ball I you idol ize that fair effeminate husband of yours—«o 1 will make a second choice and marry the pretty Miriam." "You nover shall !" Lady Edes's face was full, now, of con centrated passion. "No ?" said Vignaux, witli tantalising ooolness. "Perhaps you are not. aware that despite your little precautions, I have seen the girl daily since I came; that she is mine, soul and body, by right of the most pas sionate and abandoned love ; that like a rash and precipitate Margery Varc, we once knew she is ready to renounce friends and the world for my sake." Lady Edes regarded him for a minute in silent horror. She did not doubt the man's assertions. She know him capable of deadly fascina tion and diabolical duplicity. "I will save Miriam from you and from herself !" she cried, at last. "But a! what cost ? Have you counted that ? I think it is too large a sum for you to pay. You will bring about my marriage with this girl. " "I tell you 1 never will ? I would sooner kill her wtth my own hand than see her your wife. "Nonsense! Do not waste time in heroics. How will you help yourself?" "1 will tell my husband all the truth— how a wild, romantic, and sinned against school girl was coaxed from her convent home and into a supposed marriage with an adventurer and gambler. That when he had made awa^ with her small fortune, ho discovered to her his true character and the deception he had practiced upon her, and—" '■Bah! Tell what you like ! It is enough that you acknowledge that much of your past I I will add to it how readily you came to my arms, and how gladly you stayed there until you became violently jealous of a girl of high degree whom I wished to make my w'fe ; how you interfered with that marriage, and fearful of my vengeance assumed a false name and character and angled for the proud position of 'Lady Edes' Think you your noble husband will over forgive you the deceit which allied his high name with your disgrace? That he will take back to his arms the whilom adven turess ?" Margery's proud, pale face met his un daunted, but her lips syllabled no reply. "Ah, you know that he will not! And yet you can hesitate to buy your present high position at the cost of wedding to me that pretty pink-faced creature, who is none of yours?" "She is his child," Margery said, slowly. 'I will not sec her wronged. Go your way —do your worst—but ;<ou shall not tempt me ! " "f give you until to-morrow's dawn to accept my proposition. I am in earnest and you know yourself absolutely in my power. You know, too, how much you care to have your husband learn the history of your past ; and it is only that I have yet a little lingering fancy for you that I offer you the ohance to buy my silence." Lady Edes signed the man away, impe riously, announcing— "You shall know my decision in the morning. " And when she deemed herself alone, un conscious that her siruggle with temptation was watch as keenly as her interview with her temper had been listened to, she paced the fioorm inter..;.' «afiitiÆiuut. "Wealth, position, honor, love, heaven! To forfeit them all when I can purchase silence. Why should not I save myself ? How can I be degraded in Garnier's eyes ? Oh Gamier, Gamier 1 God alone knows how I love you—that I believed the intensity of my passion could atone for my silence to you regarding the past. We have been very happy, Gamier. Can I give you up ?" Oh, the bittemess of that struggle between right and wrong ! But, at the last pure, heroic, self renunci ating love saved Margery Edes from yield ing to evil. "She is yo-.a child, Gamier," Bhe said, at length. "I will never sacrifice her, I promised to love her as my own, and I will —yea better than myself. I will let her be your all. When you read the truth, aud know how I have cared for you, and that I ehose to give my life for her, and for your honor, you must at least remember me pityingly.." And with white, set face Lady Edes sought her own rooom. That night she dismissed her maid and sat writing till late. Then she donned a hood and long mantel, and so attired crept softly to the corridor. But the gaunt form of her elderly servant met her there, and pushed her hack, motion ing her with uplifted, warning finger, aud following into the dimly-lighted boudoir. "Take off those raps, my lady," the wo man whispered. "You need not sacrifice yourself, another victim to the treachery and diabolism of the man who lies m yon der chamber. You are very brave, my dear. Mon Dieu ! I worship you—I hate him— so I have saved you ! I heard his threats— you have been sinned against ; but my lord shall never know. Be happy. lsidor Vig naux is dead. I was his wife, his true wife, years ago. He cast me off and took my child from me ; he alone knows to what fate he consigned it. When I found he held the fate of this house iu li's hands, and that you would sacrifice yourself, but not my lord or his ccild, I said, I will save her. lsidor do serves nothing at my hands. 1 have left a note at his side saying who I am and that I did the deed. For the rest, your safety is in your own hands." The strange woman stole from the room, and escaped the grasp of the law when all the country side was ringing with accounts of the tragedy. And Lady Margery Edes breathed a grateful prayer that she had been so strange ly but awfully saved from temptation and death. ly It to —In the postal savings hank of Italy $5,01)0,000 have been deposited so far this year in very small sums. These banks give great satisfaction. A Monster Serpent. One of the most intrepid wild beast tamers in Europe, Karolyi, a Magyar of colossal stature and extraordinary physical strength, lias recently fallen a victim to a dread con tingency of his perilous profession. He was performing before a crowded audience at Madrid, the other day, one of his most sensational feats, which consisted in allow ing a huge boa constrictor, over twenty feet in length, to enfold his body in its tre mendous coils, when suddenly a piercing cry escaped him, which was greeted by the public with a round of applause, under the supposition that its utterance constituted a part of the performance. It proved, how ever, to be the outcome of a strong man's deatli agony. The gigantic snake had tight ened its coils and crushed poor Karolyi's life out of him with one terrific squeeze. As his head fell back and his eyes became fixed in a glassy state, the plaudits died away and were succeeded by the stillness of utter consternation. The snake and its lifeless victim swayed for a second or two of inexpressible horror, and then toppled over on the boards of the stage; but the boa did not in the least relinquish his grip upon the corpse, which remained for more than an hour imprisoned in its hideous thraldom, nobody daring to approach the lithe monster, of whose powers such ap palling proof had been given. At length it occurred to one of Karolyi's attendants to place a bowl of milk in a cage within sight of the mighty serpent, which slowly unwound itself from the dead body and glided into its den, irresistibly attracted thereto by its favorite dainty. A post mortem examination of the unfortunate athlete's remains discovered no fewer than eighty-seven fractures of his bones, effected by the constriction of the serpent's coils. His death must have been instantaueous, os the spine was disarticulated in several places. The Human Ear. The internal ear is a wonderland, a dim inutive one, it is true, but really great—as tonishingly great m its very littleness—a fairy land, full of the realizations of dreams to be found in oriental story. In a space of less than one-half of a cubic inch, ex cavated out of the petrous portion of the temporal bone, there are to be found curi osities which the finest museum in the world can't afford. In the vestibule are miniatu: e lakes; here, with pebbly otoconia or otolothes bathed in its depth, there, with whole forests of hair-like rods, looking like clusters of reeds, growing in the shallow water of some pond, while the whole is al most constantly tremulous with wavelets of sound transmitted from the objective world without to the subjective world within. Here iu one place are to be found peculiar winding canals, each swelling at one ex tremity into straDge, vase-like dilations, or ampullæ. while in another hangs a chain of minute bones, curious caricatures of familiar objects, all united together by the smallest ligaments, and moved by muscles so tiny that each will scarcely weigh more than a single grain. Here, in a recess of the bony cave, stands a wonderful small shell tower, with several pairs of spiral stairs, or scalæ, leading from the base, around a modiclous of bone to the helico tremus summit. Nor does this tower lack for rooms or windows or doors. Here, within a peculiar spiral rooms, with a bony ledge for a floor, the bastlar membrane for a carpet, and the membra tectoria for the ceiling, we find the most minute, and yet one of the most exquisitely formed, musical instruments in all the world—a veritable harp or piano, with no less than three thousand strings, so wonderfully formed, so delibately adjusted, that it trembles in responsive action to the slightest sound— now vibrating with tremulous delight as the incoming waves of sweet and delicious music float over its strings; then grating with tremulous disgust ut the passage of hard and discordant noise. Ever faithful and true to its trust, it imitates perfectly every sound which comes to it from the outside world, board of this delicate little instrument as a nervous arrangement, which far outrivals the powers of the celebrated telephone. Here innumerable pearl-white threads or filaments, attached to the harp string or corsican fibers, hear onward iw some mys terious manner, all the music of the instru ments above, in all its original accuracy and distinctness, with all its variations in pitch aud quality, and here by a process, imitated iu the phonograph, the music is sealed up, and properly labeled, and stored away in some one of the secret recesses of the brain, to reappear again, it may be, scores of years thereafter. on as the to Beneath the sounding for to on Death of Capt. Kidd. The solemn session of Admiralty waB that which met at the Old Bailey, in May 1601, when Capt. Kidd and nine others were arraigned for piracy and robbery on the high seas. All were found guilty ex cept three, who were proved to have been apprentices. Kidd was also tried for the murder of his gunner and found guilty. All the other men pleaded variously and two of them had undoubted ly surrendered Ihemselves within the time limited by the proclamation. Col. Pass, the Governor of West Jersey (now the State of New Jersey, adjoining tliat of New York), corroborated this statement. It was shown that they had not surrendered to a commission of four specially sent out for the purpose, and they were condemned to die. This was, as far as the writer can judge, a hard case. Another seaman, Darby Mullins, said in his defence that he served under the King's commission and had no right to disobey any commands of his superior officer; that in fact, the men were never allowed to question his author ity, because it would destroy all discipline; and that even if unlawful acts were com mitted, the officers were the persons to answer for it, not the men. He was an swered that serving as he did only entitled him to do that which was lawlul. He re plied that thocase of a seaman must be bad indeed if he were punished in both cases, for obeying and for not obeying his officers and that if he were allowed to dispute his tU lerior's orders, there wou : d be no such tiling as command on the high seas. This ingenious defence availed him nothing; he had taken a share of the plunder, and had mutinied, showing no regard to the com mission; and further had acted in accord ance with the customs of pirates and free booters. The jury brought him in guilty with the rest. Kidd's defence was not strong, as a matter of legal argument. He insisted that he had been more siuned against than sinning. He said that he went out on a laudable employment, and had no occasion, being then in good circum stances, to go a-piratmg; that the men had frequently mutinied; that he had been threatened in his own cabin, and that nine ty-five deserted him at one time and set fire to his boat, so that he disabled from bringing his ship home, or the prizes he took, to have them regularly condemned, which prizes, he said, were taken under virtue of his commission, they having French passes (false). A witness, Col. Hewson, spoke highly of his previous rep utation for bravery. So mucli of his own statement was doubtful or false that he was found guilty. When the Judge put on the black cap Kidd stood up and said: "My Lord, it is a very hard sentence. For my part, I am the most innocent person of them all, and have been sworn against by perjured persons, bodies of Kidd and six of his men wero seen by the passers-by on the river, hang ing high, suspended by chains, a warning especially to the seamen of and entering the port of London not to turn pirates. a A week after the Washington's Pew. Christ Church, in Alexandria, Va., some six miles below Washington, is an object of much interest. It was completed in 1773, taking the placo of a chapel that could noi have possessed much elegance, as it sold for £7 10s. The year prior to leaving the chapel Colonel George Washington, then thirty-tliree years of age, was chosen one of the vestrymen. His name is affixed to the contracts for the new chnrch, which for minuteness of specification would serve as a model for modern building committees. James Parsons agreed to build the church for £600. "The shingles were to be of the best juniper, three-fourths of an inch thick, eighteen inches thick, and to show six inches." The mortar for the outside walls, which were of brick, was to be two thirds lime and one-third sand ; the mortar for the inside walls was to be one-half lime and one-half sand. "The arches and pedi ments to be iu the Tuscan order. The altar piece, pulpit and canopy to be Ionic." But it appears that contractors even in those early days had some ol the failings of mod ern time. James Parsons failed to fulfil) his contract, and the vestry made an agree ment with Col. John Carlyle for the addit ional sum of £320 to complete the work. On the 27th of February, 1873, the church having been formally delivered to the vc g try, ten of the pews were offered for sale. Pew No. 6 was purchased by General Washington for £36,10, the highest price paid. The pews were square, with scats on three sides and the back nearly as high as the head of the occupant. But in 1816 and 1817 some of the old square pews were divided, and the remainder, in 1821, Wash ington's among the rest, but in 1837 it was restored to its former shape. It was again divided, but soon restored to its original form and so still remains. In 1804, George Washington Parke Custis, Mrs. Washing ton's grandson, whom General Washington adopted, presented to the parish Washing ton's Bible, published in 1772. and now in use on the altar. The building lias been little by little remodelled to suit the modern tastes. The old pew of Washington is al lowed to retain its original shape, except the back is lowered like the rest. Visitors to Alexandria gr in large numbers to attend Sunday morning services at Christ Church, and sit in tho pew where Washington wor shipped. Extensive Bee Farm. Near the village of Beeton, Ontario, Canada, there is a bee farm which is prob ably one of the most extensive and suc cessful things of the kind in the world. It consists of four bee-yards Bituated at the angle of a square mile of country. The current year, so far, lias proved favorable for honey. Mr. D. A. Jones, the owner, had at the end of July, already secured 50, 000 lbs. of honey from 620 stocks of bees. The hives used are oblong pine wood boxes, with a cubic capacity of 3,240 in., the in side mcasuro being 16x18x12. The pro prietor expects a total yield for the year of 70,000 lbs. of honey from his 19,000,000 little workers, in wliieh case he would net between $7,000 and $10,000 for the year's product, without tailing into account the sale of swarms or of queen bees. This statement which we find in an exchange, as to the present being a good year for honey docs not afree with some statements made on the subject.