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TRI-WREEKLt EDITION. WINNSBORO. S 0_..,. APRIL 7, 1883.0TBIHD14
''he dry leaves rustle, the night-winds blow
Tito city is hushed and the gas turned low;
Tto clock in the hall ticks loud ahd slow.
10ootteps ring through the echoing street,
coirades under my window meet,
The watchman comes on his nightly beat.
A distant freight train rumbles low,
Haby Jacky orIes out In woe,
Cats through the honse like burglars go.
The mo~n goes down and the nigut grows dark;.
Tho house-dog, rousiag himself to bark,
siks down with a long drawn sigh-and hark I
Pte hour is tWlled from the Centro Clurch;
iho cuge-bird changes feet on the perch;
'.ho eats go out with their stealthy search.
I turn on my pillow-(there's none to hear)
Iet quiet, sleep sweetly; Go id night, my dear."
Saidee I Saidee I Where are you Why
don't you answer me when I oftll ?
,Yes, aunt Leah-I am coming in a
"nu a minute I" saroaRticall repeated
the old lady. "It's always 'in a min
ute' with you, Saidee I But I suppose,
because I am old and helpless, my com
fort is a matter of no consequence
"Dear aunt Leah, you must never
think that," answered a bright, okeery
voice; and Baidee Lynn came into the
room,. with a little tray, whore was ar
ranged, on a snowy napkin, some tea
b.souita, half-a-dozen pink radishes, a
few thin-out shavings of smoked beef,
and a little pot of tea, with a cup and
saucer of old china that would have
been invaluable to a collector. You see
I had you in my mind all the time,
aunt Leah," she said merrily. "I
gathered the radishes from our own
garden. Don't they look nice?"
Aunt Leath, a withered, little, old
lady, in a dress of worn black silk, and
Bharp, grey eyes, peering through gold
tound speotacles, tasted the tea, and
shook her head.
"It's too weak," said sho. "It isn't
ilt to drink I"
"I put in all the tea there was in the
canister, aunt Leah," said Saidee, with
a distressed countenance.
Aunt Leah pushed away the cup, with.
an expression of distaste.
"It is as I might have expected,"
said she. "My nieces . have too little
- thought for my comfort to study. my
poor and few necessities. Never mind
tio tea ; 1 can drink cold water, I dare
daideo wruug her hands in despair,
How could she tell this weak, feeble
old lady, above whose declining years
hung tne threatening Damocles sword
of heart-disease, of their narrowing
eircumstances-of the empty exche
qtior, the clamoring creditors, the
pitiful straits to which they were re
"What shall I do ?" she asked herself,
as she went slowly bask to the little
kitchen of the ruinous Gothio cottage,
which they had obtained for a ridicu
lously low rent because it was ruinous.
"I've bor.owed of the rootor's wife
twice, and I'm ashamed to go there
again, and I've sol everything I can
lay my hands on. But,' glancing up
at a picture which hung in the hall be
yond, "there's the Velasquez still. A
Velasquez is always worth money. Bel
I will scold about *parting with it, and
aunt Leah will mourn; but we can't
ive on air and dew, like the fairies. I'll
takhe it.down to Mr. Bruner, the art.ist,
tims aifternoon, and ask him to get us a
purchaser. Poor people, such as we
are, can't afford to retamn old family re
And so, when aunt Loahi was indulg
ing in her afternoon nap, and Belle, the
beauty of the family, was ironing out
the flounces of her white muslin dress
for the morrow's picnic, valiant Baidee
chmbed on a chair, took the unframed
picture down (it was the head of some
old Mpanish grandee, with astiff-pointed
ruff, and an evil leer in the eyes), wrap
ped1 it up, and-crept across the mealows
with it to the village.
Mr. B3runer was in his studio-a gris
zle-headed, blunt old gentleman, in a
belted imieni blouse and a faded velvet
He nodded kindly at Saidee, who -had
once takten a few lessons from him, but
when she displayed the canvas heshook
"How,much do you thinkit is worth?'
asked Saidee wistfully.
"Nothing I" said Mr, Bruner.
"But," cried the girl, "it is a Velas
"That a Velasquez ?" said Mr. Bru
ner contemtatuously. "My dear, there
isn't a picture dealer in the country who
would give five dollars for it, It's an
initation, and a wretehed one at that."
So Saldee tied up the poor picture,
and went home again, shedding a few
tears as she walked under the whisper
"My last hope gone l'.' she thought.
"But I'll not tell aunt Leah or. Belle
that iti nimposture. They have al
vays taken such innocent pride in the
As sne came past the old brick house
ut the foot of the Locust Lane, a load
of furniture was being carried in, for it
was the second week In May.
Wicker b,hairs, twined with blue rib
bon, a cottage piano, eases cif books,
engravin~gs, bird-cages, plants--all sorts
of pett thngs.
' Saidee paused and looked -at them,
not without interest.
"I wonder who our new neighbors
are to be ?" she thought.
Just then out tro.ted a stout, cherry
cheeked old lady, w'.th her cap all on
one side, and a worsted shawl tied over
S"Oh:l" said she, "are your th on
Nlo," said 8sidee; orinmoning to hle
ml, h, dear I" said the old
y' 7 lat to become its P All thte
on ndtt an
eager look, "perhaps you can recom
mend some one to help,us settle ?"
"I am sorry to say -that I cannot,"
And she vanished bebind . the lilad
hedge, rather amused at the - mistake
which the old lady had*. ade.
Belle was full of news that evening.
"Oh, f3aide,". she cried, "such a
nioe family is moving into the Loont
"Yes," said Saldee ; "I saw the
furniture carts at the door as. I came
back from the village this afternoon."
"Oh, the village.l" cried .Bel)e. toos.
Ing her blonde head.' "It's strange,
Saidee, how much time u get ,to run
about and enjoy yoursel : *filei I am
dridgingt'home. -ut there's a young
gentleman there-thec handsomest man,
alice -auru mayis;'na"ti eVef sw
and Mr. Pyle knows himi, and he isto
be at the pionic to-inoryow, to get ao
quaiuted with the young people of the
neighborhood. Won't it be delightful?'
"Very," said Saidee indifferently.
But while Belle was talking she had
made up her mind what to do on the
day of the May picnic.
Early in the morning, while the flush
of sunrise was still orim-toning the sky,
and blonde Belle lay asleep with her
yellow hair in crimping-pins, Saideo
arose, dressed herseif quietly, and slip
ped out of the back door like a little
At eight o'clock, aunt Leah rapped
with her cane on the ceiling of her
room, which was directly beneath the
one occupied by het nieces.
Belle made her appearance presently,
in a faded calico wrapper, rubbing her
eyes after a drowav fasnion.
"Where's breakfast ?" said auatLeah.
'Where's Saidee ?" counter question
ed Belle. "Oh, I know the selfish
thing I She has got up early and gone
down into the woods to get some pink
azaleas for.her hair before the other
girls thiak of it. Shewauteto astonish
us all at the picnic. But I think she
might have told me."
"I'm afraid Saidee thinkr more of
herself thau she does of us," said aunt
And Btlle, ia a very ill-humor, began
to prepare the breakfast-a task gener
ally assumed by her eldest sister.
While Saidee hurrying down the
path by the swamp, took the short-cut
across the clover-meadow, and was
presently knocking at the door of the
brick house where the load of furniture
had stood the day before.
The old lady with the crooked cap
and.cherry cheeks came to the door.
"Have you yet engaged any one to
help you get bettled ?" said Saidee,
biushing very prettily.
"We can't heaf -6f a soul I" said the
old lady. * Every one is engaged just
"if you thought I could be of use,"
faintly- began Saidee.
IJBless me, chjld I" said the old lady,
"you are too slight and small, Be
sides," looking closer at her, "you are
"But I know how to clean house fcr
all that," said Saidoe vali-rntly. "i've
done it every year at home. We are
ladies, but we are not people of means.
And I think you will be suited with my
work. It is necessary that T - Rhnuid
earn a little money, and. -"
"Come in, my dear I" said the old
lady-"come in and have a cup of coffee
with us. I am Mrs. Hartwick-and
this is my 4aughter Kate."
"Saidee Lynn !" exclaimed the soft
voice of a pretty young girl, lying with
a sprained ankle on the sofa.
To her amiazement, our heroine recog
nized one of her schoolmates, Uather
inc Hartwick, who had been in the
same class with her, at boarding- school,
two years ago.
' "But you surely never have come
here to-work ?" said Kate iiz amaze
"Yes, I ha've I" said brave Saidee.
"Why, is it any less creditable to clean
paint and wash windows than to play
croquet or do Kensington stitohes ? And
my aunt Leah has Jeat all her little pro
port,y, anid we are very, very poor 1 So
now you know all albout it. And when
I have eaten my breakfast, if Mrs.
Hartwick will give me a cleaning cloth
and plenty of soft soap, ll show her
what I1 can do I"
80 that -Miss Lynn was mounted on o
step-ladder, polishing off an antique
mirror, when Kate'q soft voice was heard
"Ohi, Harry I is that you ? We sup-,
posed, of course, you were at the- pic
nte. Miss Lynn, this is my brother
Harry. Harry, let me present you to
Saidee Lynms, my dear old schoolmate,
who has come here to help us clean
she could under the choumistances.
Mr. Harry Hartwick luclined his
**At the picnic, indeed I" lie retorted
merrily. "Not at all. I've been hunt
ing high and low for som'e one to help
you, and for lack of any success I have
returned to dto a little whitewashing
"Oh, have you ?".said Saidlee. "I
know such a nice recipe for kalsomine
as white as alabaster, and It won't run
off at all."
"Let's make It," said Mr. Hartwick
No picnic could ever have been more
delightful than this day among dust,
whitewash, scourng,-sand and brooms.
Kate, on her sofa, hemmed curtains ;
Mr. Hartwickc bustled to and fro ; Sai
dee with her curly hair ,tied- up in a
handkerchief, scoured paints, and Hiar
ry whitenedelilngs ; 'and at twilight
they had three rooms in perfect order.
''We have aohieved a wonders," said
Kste, loolung around at Ihe neatly
tacked carpets-the soft, garnet plush
hangings--the piotures on the walls
hecrystal brigh nees of the windoWs
whl rs..Hart*o took. Saidee mys
teriously oni oile side,
"My dear," mai she,"]1do not know
how tp thank ;ygh auffJI~itl Jut I
am uphn Ashiamed to,pffer o
11 ~~l not be ashase take
It6 su,d esmltlgid ."Why should
it." said the old lady ; "and if you could
possibly come to-morrow--"
"Of course.I will come," said Saidee.
Weary as she was, Saidee went around
by the village, to buy some Young Hy
son tea for the old lady before she re
turned to the Gothio-cottage.
'"Well," she oned brightly, to her
sister, "what sort of a day did you have
at the picnic ?"
"Awfully stupid I" yawned Belle.
"And the handsome young gentleman
from Locust Lane didn't come at all.'
"Didn't he ?"said Saidee.
"And where have you been ?" de.
manded Belle, In an injured tone.
"Oh, spending the day with a neigh.
bor." said Saidee, with a laugh.*
they finished the house-eleaning thad
Mr. ay- AL vLwtk -found it neces
razy, we may suld, to walk -home with
Saidee the next evening, and he develo
ped a renarkable talent in the amateur
painting and- kalsomining line before
they got through.
"Ien't she pretty, Harry ?"said Kate,
when at last they wort settled comfor
tably, and Saidee had gone home for
"She is pretty ; "and she is brave,
and she isn't afraid of honest work ;
and altogether she is my beau ideal of
"Mamma," whispered Kate,-laughing,
affer her brother had gone out, "I be
lieve our Harry is in love with Saidee
"I'm sure-I don't blame him," said
Mrs. Hartwick. "She is a little. jewel."
Aunt Leah never know where the
Young tyson tea came from nor the
sponge cake, nor the white grapes, nor
all the little luxuries which had cheered
her of late ; nor did she suspect any
thing until one day Harry Hartwick
came to her, and formally asUed her for
her neice's hand in marriage.
"Well, I never I" said aunt Leah.
"But how did you ever become so
well-acquainted with him. Saidee ?"
questioned Belle, half pleased, half jea
"Because I cleaned house for his
mother." said Saidee, laughing.
And then under solemn seal of secrecy,
she told Belle all ; and Belle declared
that it was too romantic for anything,
never pausing to think that real life is
as full of romance as a summer meadow
With butter-cups aid that fortune comes
to those only who go bravely out to
The craving for cremation is more gen
eral than many people suppose. Those
who entertain, the dread of being buned
alive will learn with interest of the report
on the memorial which the communal
administration of Brussels presented to
the Belgian Chamber praying that crema
tion should be rendered optional. The
report of the Committee on the petition,
which was 'adopted with unanimity, and
ir whose -prayer the provincial Council of
Brabant concurred, sets forth that at
present cremation is nottsnuctioned by tha
Belgian law. Italy,. Gernany, Switzer
land and the United States have permitted
cremation, and crematories have been es
tablishod at Milan, Padue, Cremona, Lodi,
and Varese. At Milan, up to the end of
1881, 85,0 cremations had taken.place, at a
cost of $10 each. In 1799 Parisians were
allowed the privilege of cremation on cer
tain conditions, but the practice is now
illegal in France, and a bill before the
Namber permitting every citizen the
liberty of being cremated after death has
not yet passed into law. The Belgian re
port enlarges on the great hygienic advan
tages of cremation. and maintains that it
wounds neither the sentiment of' human
dignity or the respect due to the mortal
remains of our kind. 1t gives to death a
conception, if not more consoling, at least
more serene and more elevated, not only
in ridding death of the associations of cor
riuption and putrefaction, but also in symi
bolizing the transformation of being in the
bosom of .the purifying clemnent, and the
mysterious disengagement of the spiritual
principle. The only objection, that cre
miation would render impossible the detec
tion of poisons by subsequent exhumation,
it proposes to parry by forbidding all cre
mation except by the express desire of the
defunct, and by providing that in all cases
where there is suspicion cremation must
be preceded by a post-mortem.
In these days when it is fashionable to
complaid of corpbrations as purely selfish,
It Is greatly to the credit of the Pennsylvar
nia Raeilroad Company, that it ta corsstant
ly furnishing increased facilities- for the
accommodation >of the traveling public.
iRecently they have commenced running a
through Pullman Bleeping Uoach from
Washington and Baltimore to Chicago on
their Pacific E~xpress, whioh'leaves Wash.
lng every day in the year at 9 80 p. in,,
&nd Baltimore 11.15 p. in. The arriving
time at Chicago is 8.00 o'clock the second
morning. Tihe portion of the tramn which
starts from Washington joins at Harris
burg with the section from New York and
Philadelphia on which there is a hotel'car.
This arrangement gives passengers from
Baltimore and Washington just the same
catiiig faelatiet as enjoyed by those from
New York, as the first meal en route is
b)reakfast on the first morning, after the
two sections have becenle one tramn.
On their Welst Jersey ooebtion, also,
they arranged for placing, since February
19th, a through passenger car between
New York and Jersey City as follows:
laeave Brooklyn 12:80 neon; New York,
1:00 p. m.,, and arrive at Atlantic City
(via Trenton and Camden) 5:47 p. in.
Laeave Atlantic City at 7:25 a' mn., arrive
at New York, 11:40 noon; Blrooalyn 12:80
noon.. The car will not be ruu in. eliher
direction on Sundays.
The latter will furnish not only desirable
facilities for the qitizens of Now York and
northern New Jersey,but Wi enable sum.
mer visitors to New York oily on business
to take a run down to the "Citya by -te
Sea" conveniently'and i' a'few hours.
On adding a few drops of dilute sulphu
tic acid to a ibixturo of eaual parts of gj
cerIne and-istilledt watet', and jhen a i~
the aloohol, the presence of hasn or le
#I11 be ehpWt by a white preod%pittte
isitr is r seit 6fdb 'sulphydd fOcId
WhllQll turns * rnptt lc
Ureedy Ioe'* Feats.
"Talking about eang," said a tall,
thin,' hungry-looking man, casting . a
wistful look at a fat sandwich that
George Kinbaoli, the. new County
Treasurer of'aokawanua, hande4 across
the counter of his resta.rant to a com
mercial travelei, ,remi4s me of Greedy
Mdl,r, who livea on Dr. Thropp's farm
just outside the city', few years Ugo.
If Miller was in these diggings now I'd
back him for $5,000 t eat a brace of
quail every day for 85 6ays in succes
sion, without interferinwt" gIse
"Did you evor h
at Billy Mahon's hote n Olyphant?"
said Charlie Robinson, one of the pro.
-prietors of the Hyde Park Brewery.
coining forward on heariug the name of
the gustatorial hero.
"Well," proceeded Mr Robinson,
"this was about six 'years ago, one
pleasant day iu the fall. Miller sent
word to Mr. Mahon that he wo uld be
at his hotel in the evening, with five
friends, and he expected him to get up
a supper for six in his boat style, in
cluding celery and salads and plenty of
oysters. Malion did as directed, and a
little before (he appointed time in
walked Miller. "Is th. supper ready?"
he asked. 'Quite ready,"'was the reply.
'Well, put it on the table,' said Miller.
'and spare notliing.' Mr, Mahon
thought it strange that none of the
others made their appearance, but il
lor's orders were always worth taking,
and so he did not stop to question, but
went into the dining-room and set a
splendid spread for six. Then he came
out and said to Miller: 'Everything is
ready. Where is your comuany?'
'Rather disappointed,' said Miller,
'they ain't come yet, and it's behind
time already. I guess as 1 won't wait
any longer. I'm awful hungry. Mobbe
they'll come in before I got through.'
The hotel-keeper was annoyed at the
idea of the good things going to waste,
but said nothing, and so Miller was
turned loose on the dining-room. In
due time he returned, and asked, 'How
much is them six suppers?' Mahon said
he could not expect him to pay for them
all, as his company did not come, but
Miller merely laughed, and said: 'I ate
em' all, why shouldn't I p41' - 'I can't
believe you.' said the host. 'Well, go
and see.' He did, and to his surprise
saw that the table had been cleared of
all the eatables down to bread, butter,
and pickles. 'Did you'eat everything?'
.ie asked Miller. 'I did,' was the reply.
'It was all a joke of mine, sayin' I was
to have company. I merely did it be
cause 1 knew in that way I could get a
little lunch, and so I did. How much
is the reckoning?' And lie paid for the
"I once did some printing for him,"
said J. U. Coon, and he brought me half
a dozen bottles of horseradish, an arti
cle which he prided himself on putting
up in superb style at his farm. Of
course I did not care for the stutr. S,
having heard so much of Miller's eating
propensities, I told him to pnt the horse
radish in his pocket, and we would go
and have a lunch. Hec liked the idea,
and we adjourned to a restaurant,
where ne devoured a ham and the biggest
portion of the radish."
"That was nothing," said Treasurer
Kinback. "The time Charley Sohadt
kept on the corner, old Miller ate a
whole barrel of oysters on a wager.
That was the greatest feat I ever saw.
Two gentlemen came in with Miller.
They had met him at a place down
town, and they asked if I could not
serve a barrel of oysters on the half
shell for a gentleman a lunch. I said I
would like to see a gentleman able to
eat a barrel of oysters, and they said,
'Miller will.do it.' I had heard a good
deal of Miller's power, but never before
had such an opportunity to witness his
brilliant capacity. At first I donbted
the genuineness of the wager, but the
gentlemen were in earnest, and said it
was all right, adding; 'If he eats all the
oysters, we will pay for them; if ho fails,
lhe will pay for them himself.' Bo I
began upon the .bivalves, and Miller
took a seat near the lunch-counter, and
appeared to be in the height of his en
joyment. I 'kaow f was very tired
before I got through. The barrel con
taine~d about 700 oysters. Oh, lie was
the moot famous eater that over lived."
x.ast, Daya of Dickens.
Mr. Merivale in a recent papJer soys;
I have just taken up for the first time
the memoir of Charles Dickens in Mr.
Morley's "Men of Letters." The writer
I suppose following Mr, Forster, de.
scribes Diokens as docing nothing but
suffer in his last visit to town (1870)
not able to go into society except to
meet some very especial persons, and
then not above- the dima~g-room floor;
and, finally, as leaving London for (*ad
shill on the 80th of May,.to be seen In
town no more. On the 9th of June he
died. -Mr. k'orster, I think, puts this
last appearance in London a day,or two
qarliei- as the date of his own last dinner
with Dickens,.who then, according to
hin, left London, not to return, In.a
state of profound depression' ter din
ing tlt.Mr. Forster. lut/Mihrsoer ja
topght to h,ye taken arathelf ibjedelve
tiew of his famous frioud~ anl eo doubt
thought that after himself nobody else
can possibly have seen Dickens in Lon
There isnoneed to surround a national
loss and all its infinite sadness with a
fictitious gloom. Will you allow me
(with the consent of Mr. Dickens' chil
dren and from my first and last personal
knowledge of him) to say that during
the last weeks of May, 1870, I was at
his house in Hyde Park place almost
every day for some hours, for the re
hearsals of a play in which the chario
ters were taken by his two daughters.
Mr.IamtAuge fughes (brother of Mr.
'Vhpna Rughes, andi one the very
obhool-boy *ho wrote to Dickens to tell
him what ought to be done with some
of the characters in "Nicholas Nickle.
by" and got back the delightful answer
beginning "Respected Sir"), Mr. F.
C, Grove and myself? Charles Dickens
undertook the entire stage management;
and, though he was suering from his
lameness, directed ail the rehearsals
with a boy's spirit and a bo: -s interest
ith his favorite art; coaching" up all
with untiring kindness, marking, his
"prompt-book" as he marked his read
ings, and acting all the parts con amore
one after another, passing from the
"old man" to the 'young lover" with
all his famous versatility and power.
The performance oame off at Cromwell
House (Mr. Freake's) on the 2d of June.
The later rehearsals took place there,
and like the performance, on the draw
ing-room floor, under Dickens' activo
personal direction. On the night (a
stilling one) he was behind the scones
as prompter and stage manager, ringing
all the bells and working all the lights,
and went through the whole thing with
iufecbious enjoyment. I was gloomy
about my part and do not forget asking
him in the morning as a last hope (as
lie seemed uncertain about its bearings
himself) whether he thought it was
comic or serious, and the twinkle in his
eye when he answered: "My dear boy,
God alone knows. Play it whichever
way'you feel at night." And I remem
ber his enjoyment at the dilemma of
one of our company who lost his per
sonal clothes behind the scenes and had
to slip away as best he might, without
joining the company in front, in the
white regimentals of an Austrian officer
from4the-costumer's point of view. This
story, I may add, is quite confirmed by
the second volume of his letters as
edited by his daughter and sister-in
law. The lasr printed letter addressed
to Mr. Bancroft refers to his visit to
town, and the narrative which connects
the letter says: "On the 2d of June lie
attended a private play at tlie house of
Mr. and Mrs. FreaKe." Theso letters
were published in 1880, but aplear
to haye been disregarded by the bio
grapher of 1882. In a case of such
general interest history should be set
right in time. When Charles Dickens'
love of the stage is remembered, this
story of his last days is surely as much
happier and more touching as it is as
suredly more true than that which the
biographer wants to inflict on us. Bio
graphics are a fact of the day, and If
this is their exactness about great men
recently lost, what ave we to believe
about those of some centuries ago."
An ArtleMie Duel.
There has been no small stir in the
musical circles of Germany over the
quirrel between the Berlin violinist,
Waldemar Mayer, and Ludwig Hart
mann, the musical critic. Early in the
present year the Berlin artist gave a
concert in the Gewandhmaus at Leipzig,
and was afterward invited to meet a
literary and musical company, whlere
the talk turned upon the critieisms of
music in the journals. "I know for a
fact," observed Herr Mayor, "that all
these musical critics arc to be bought."
A student at the University stood up In
great wrath amt saida that he could name
one against whom Herir Mayer dared not
make such 'a. charge. "Who Is he?"
asked the miusician. "Ludwig Bart
mann, of Dresden," replied the stutent.
"Well," retorted the other, "If he will
not take a.bribe into his own hands he
will receive one indirectly through lie
wife. If I wanted Hfartmann to praise
me in the press I should forward the
honorarium for the favorable criticism
of Frau Hlartniann ." On the next day
Mayer gave a concert at Dresden, and
ieceived an invitation to visit Hartmiann
after the concert. To his astomnehment,
rather than, his pleasure, he was no
sooner ushered into Frau Hartmann's
saloon than he' saw the young student
from Leipzig, as well as his.hostess,
confronting him. The lady asked him
if he would be good enough to repeat to
her what he had said In society at Leip.
zig. As he hesitated to do this, Frau
aartmann struck him across the face
with a riding whip and he received a
second blow on the back of his head as'
hb was hurrying out of the. room, He
went straight to his hotel and wrote a
challenge to LudwIg Hartmuanb, wh fc4
the critic naturMly enough'*efused to
accept. Mayer' had already fired hiis
shot at Uartmann, .behihd his bacok, in
Leipzig, and Haiia'nn e,oiideived that
his wife had saved him thQ trouble of
firing any shot ii#retuir.3 The dtfel was
comupniood by the musician hansu0it,
wh6 hat g~o6. thA Wozat o t, th
critio di not see that tise *We y *ot.
son for fghting a second pgile
Life In the Street4.
Though bad enough In American cities,
the life of the children of the streets here
is nothing to what it is in Europe. One
has only to turn to the pages in Mayhew's
"London Labor" to find In the accounts
given by the children themselves, the ex
treme hardship of their, lives. A httle
watercress seller, eight years old, with no
childish ways or thoughts, and with
wrinkles in her face where the dimples
ought to be. may be taken as an example
o1 the sufferings of the very young, not
only thou, but in countless cases now.
She sold watereresses at the rate of four
bunches for a penny, makin% a profit of
four-pence a day. She had a home, and
jp this degree was in advald. e nU
othero*61'her class. But th 'ohe -
ash "bhildren of elght yorrs in brightor
homes can best understand the 'terrible
hardships implied In this poor little
trader's account of herself. The water
crosses had to be bought at Farringdon
Market before six o'csock in the morning,
and from six o'clock till ten, she traversed
the streets to sell them, before tasting
food. What simple eloqueace of poverty
is in a few of her answers to the questions
asked by the compiler of the book I 'it's
very cold,' she replied, 'before winter
comes on reg'lar-speolally getting up of a
morning. I get up in the dark, by the
light of the lamp in court. When the
siow is on the ground, there's no "creases."
I bears the cold-you must; so I puts my
hands under my shawl, though it hurts
'em to take hold of the ert seca, especially
when we takes 'em to the pumip to wash
'em. No, I never see any children crying
-it,8 no use.'
The vast number of newspaper-boys and
flower-girls earn less than sixpence a day,
in return for which poor wages the little
traders wander till late at night in the
great public school of anything but. high
influence or good example. The stand
keepers look. upon them as rivals; they
say the children, as sellers, prevents
others living, and ruins theirselves; and
at least one half of tie jealous remarks is
too often sadly true. Large numbers of
them have no settled dwelling, or the
worst substitute for a home. Many take
their meals in the streets, buying a 'penn
'orth of pudding' as a sustaining dinner;
and the homeless, or those that are afraid
to go home with stock unsold, find a rotuge
in crowded lodging houses, or hide in
stairs or markets, or lie in soie corner
under a dry arch.
Other children who live and have their
being in the streets are of a still poorer
and more numerous class, though sonic of
them are included in the class of -free
traders. They buy in the markets and
sell at the corners; but they more fre
quently live by their wits, dishonestly or
honestly, and doing odd jobs, such as
holding a horse or carrying a parcel.
Joe, in "Bleak House," forms the typi.
cal representative of the whole class, or at
least of the hundreds tbat, in reference to
the rest of huinanity, are more sinned
against than sinning, even in that untaught
struggle for existence. Joe is a living por.
trait; there Is not a touch of exaggeration
abo,tt-it; and some there are who hold
that the b.y crosing--oweeper, with his
wl'ole life and character dashed in by a
few touches, is the huest character-drawiig
the novelist ever did, and as noble preachi
log for humanity's sake as was ever found
in a popular fiction. Joe's ignorance is
extreiu, but not without a glimmering,
that faintly brghtens and goes out. ills
mind is.a blank ; but lie has a conscience
-God made him, and man neglected him.
He is described in half a dozein words; we
all hav6 seen him---very muddy, very
hoarse, very ragged." lie can say for
himself that lie never got into trouble,
" 'copt not knowin' nutimi' and starwa.
tion." lie knows that a b)room Is a broon ,
and that a lie as bad ; aiid when lie is re
quested to tell the truth, lie has a forcible
tormula ; "Wishermay die it I dlon't sir I"
There is one jewel ini him, among the
mud, the hoarseiiess and the rags-one
diamond. lie has a heart ; lie has grati
tude, "lie wuz very goodi to me, lie
wuz I" cries poor Joe against his ragged
sleeve, when the man who had said kind
words to him, the nameless, friendless
man, is "stitched''-dead. Tihat part of
the portrait miay, be disbelieved, but onily
for want of knowledge of the poor. Ii
there is no warmth of iceling, no faithful
ness, no gratitude, it is because there has
been no sympathy..
"Outsithie of te Ii,,u,e.'"
"S3uppose'," began a little red-headed
main with a wild look in his eye as he
halted a policeman cin Porter street the
other clay-' suppose miy mother-in-law
drops clown upon me in October and re
mains,right along until now, occupying the
best room, fretting at the children, putting
my wife uap to be cranky, and greeting me
daily with such epithet, as brute, hyena
and mise "
"Yes, suppose she does I"
"Suippose that I finally cease to endure
and bounce her out. Can she have me1
'*if you assault her she cani."
"Would I be fined over $10 ?"
"1 think not-not for carrying her out
doors in your arms."
"Thanks. hietween this and 4 o'clock
some one will get bounced. In other
words, I shall pass the itubicon.
At 10 o'clca. that night the same officer
found the man in a drunken sleep in a lum
bor yard fouir blocks fromn his house. As
lie hauled him out into tnc light lie found
one eyt. closed, his face scratched, his
collar torn off and his vest so spli 'uap thme
back that it would button twice around
"Here-wake up-wake up I you are
drunk I"e sheiuted the officer,
"Yeah, shomo diruak," was the thick
"You are the man who was going to
bounce his mo)ther.in-.law ?"
"Y es, shame man-shame man."
"Weil, where did shiego?"
"Where'd she go t On, yes, I 'member
now. Shay ?"
"When 'er man bounces his mo.ther-in
law which of 'can goes ?"
"8hue does, of oirse."
."Then .(hle)t then it sheems that (his)
somebody ha4 mfido thumping big mistatte
t'r l'm the, party let' on outside of
s' house 1"
T7M nersistence of the thei eLfo po~
ty obilerodtfn cer&in $tod is at~iutb
M, Jaroquto to thetr ot tcn il si
tio o00i.1 pao e8b QuI0d)
Salt Fields of Now York*.
The Syracuse salt holds of X. Y., were
known to the Indians at a; very early
period, but Father Lalomaitis 1?elieved
to be the first white man who visited
them. - About 1770 Onondaga salt was
in common use among the Delawares,
and was carried to Quebec for sale.. The
first made by the whites was in -1788
near Syracuse, by boiling. The sallns
belong to the State, which supplies the
brine to manufacturers and reoelies a
royalty of one cent a busheL * Six cents
was formerly charged, and the State
thus derived a large revenue, but n1846
the tax was reduced. to the, present
unt,., which' s s to pay the ex
D Iuf3tu ,,5petnenceer '
etc The produ Ion has reached the
maximum.of' over 0,00000bushels in
a, single year at Syraouqe,- The new
fields at Warsaw and Le Ry iro;nse
to exceed all othets. in purity, strepgth
of brine and oheapness-of production.
Tie salt deposit at Warsaw was discov
ured, we believe, while boring for petro
leum. It is a line deposit of rook salt,
lying at a depth of several hundred feet.
ama of groat purity. The manufacture
of salt has already been commenced,
and both at Warsaw and .) Roy, it
will be rapidly developed and extensive
ly manufactured. It is expected that
millions of bushels annually will be
produced aflording a source of supply
for the entire country as elil as a large
,%mount for export. On account of the
trength and purity of the brine,' salt
3an be produced in these Western New
York districts at a cost which will ena
blo the manufacturers to successfully
3ompete with all the world. Already
the excitement is at a high pitch, anJ
lthe material benefits to this entire region.
especially to the railroad interest, grow
Ing out of these discoveries in Goiesee
-nd Wyoming counties, must of neces
iity be in the greatest degree gratifying
A Lone n1.by-s Voyaige,
After the fearful deluge occurred at
'he Cut-off a man named John Glazer
vas rowing around In a light b'bat, pick
ng up what had floated from the homes
)f the unfortunates, when his attention
vas attracted to a strange-looking ob
ecot bobbing up and down on the waves,
oMe distance out, and having the
%ppearance of a miniature house.
[Impelled more by a Rense of curlosity
Ahan anything else he rowed across to
tiead the object off, and to his astonish
aent discovered that it was an old-fash
[on baby ,radle Betting upright in the
water. A few vigorous strokes of the
oar drew in alongside of the floater
ind catching It by the edge he pulled It
in toward the boat. Great as his sur.
prise had been, it was doubly so when
is eyes fell upon the form of an infant,
tpparently several weeks old, cuddled
ip among the blankets, from which it
)ooped out with eyes dilated by aston
shment and fear. The little stranger
va% carefully lifted from his uncertain
>od and pltcod iii the skiff, the cradle
vlich had sheltered it,it being forgotten
U the excitement and left to pursue its
onely jour..ey toward the Father of
Waters. Tne child was comfortably
lrossed in swaddling cloths, having a
ong flannel gown wrapped about his
ititle shape. It had evidently been
born of "poor but respectable" parents,
out as to who they were or where they
ived not the slightest clew could be
ound. The baby was taken home by
1dr. Glazer auct comfortably provided
:or, whro It will be kept till its parents
,.laimn It, The supposition is that the
ittle .stranger floated down from this
'ity, its home being swopt away b'the
>reaking of the dam at the Cut-oft 1t
nii be remembered that a cradle con
ainmng an inta.nt was seen to float pas.t
Jlay street early in the evening of the
lay following, and, althoughi eff>rts
vere made to capture it, they proyed
ruitless. Meanwhile the little Moses
w'ill remin at his new-found home unl1
she proper owners claim him.
Horan--ureaking in Jlapass.
liokusai was never weary of studying
horses and their funny ways, and of all
oreatures Jaipanesejiorses are the most
amusing. These nags, wich wear
laced-unp shoes of straw, drink out of a
dipper, take hip baths of hot-water,
and stand In the stabile with their mouths
tied up higher than thieir ears, are
broken in to the pack'or saddle in a
very rough way. .In Hlokusal's days,
horses were ncyer harnessed to wagons,
nor did they draw anything. The
ponies were usually "broken in" In the
large open yards attached to temples.
Fires, ailso, are usually kindled, and tho
eolts are driven close to them, so that
they may become acoustomed to such a
common sight. The method of break.
ing them in was as follows.--Th,e young
horse was duly harnessed, and a man
on-each side held a bridal to jerk him
to the right or loft, while another nman
in the rear boat him with* a b>amboo
stiok, keeping well away from his hoofs,
T wvelve or more mon and boys then took
hold of the long ropes or traces, and a
lively shouting began.' The hdrse
plunged and galloped, off, expeoting' to
get rid of the noisy crew, but soon
found that this was no easy task. It
was a twelve tman power thatenlade ilium
go here and there, fast or sfowo d6a.
slonally stopping him sIhor tidl~y1n~
him a tutablo. When uti'ly exhalisted,
his tormentors lea him bael@ tVhe eta.
ble. After a few such 3riksk tlho~yn
was considered )okei '8t5 oh a
traidag tho . n1