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Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, January 30, 1885, Image 6

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn99067997/1885-01-30/ed-1/seq-6/

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THE GREAT EASTERN.
It Might If live 1 a Success on the
Ocmin of Stmio l'lunot l'-if(y Time® »h
I.-.irso ns Ours.
The steamer Great. Eastern is on her
^ray from Liverpool to Now Orleans.
The huge craft will be a-sort of "side
show" tit great exhibition. It will
be "tied up" in tljg. Mississippi on one
sirirt of the Imposition grounds. After
ii has discharged its cargo, which con
sists mainly of article* intended for ex
hibition, it will be used as a restaurant
and hotel. Persons other Mian guests
vfijl be allowed- t.n visit the huge hulk,
-on the payment of a small fee. The.
•Cireal. Eastern has fur a
(|Uarter
of a
century been the "white elephant." of
the ,-eas. it is excellent for a show,
"but has proved be utterly useless for
other purposes. If her stockholders
•tkrive any jirotit from this tri|). it will
be the tirsl time they have succeeded in
cloinir so. The enormous craft has
rt'-ver been a paying investment, though
•h'igh hopes were entertained of its snc
'ess. It might have been called with
propriety the •-Great Expectations." It
was to re\olutioni/.e the. carrying of
passengers and heavy freights. Origi
nally intended to carry live thousand
jpasse.ngers at a time between England
and Australia, it never made the trip,
and ha.s liardlv carried in all the num
ber of passengers it could accommo
date at one time. It made a
trip to New York for the pur
pose of taking two thousand passen
gers
to
Liverpool, but returned with
Jess thau one-tenth that, number. It
"was not found to he a desirable vessel
for transporting .large bodies of sol
diers. Old sailors predicted from the
lirst. that the Great Eastern would be.
wnhicky. .Her history shows the truth
of their predictions. She stuck fast at
her launch, lost one of her funnels on
Ije-r first voyage, and ran on a rock
during her next trip. The vessel has
in the hands of I lie Sheriff, has
3?«n .seized for wages of sailors, and
h:. passed through chancery. Alto
.jr"i!ier, .«ho has had an eventful life.
Usit the Great Eastern has been of
advantage to the world if not to her
owners. Three Atlantic cables have
•been stored on her ample deck and
passed over her stern. Her hull has
•proved the superiority of iron over
y,-oo4 for the construction of ocean
vessels. There have, been times in the
*2 isi.ory of the world when the. giant
steamer would have been "just the
•feiiiflg." Noah could have used the
craft in the plntre of the ark lie built.
William the Silent, once considered the
project of putting all the people of
.Holland, together with their cattle and
treasures, oil board of vessels and
.taking them to India, where they would
foe .secure against the bloody Spaniards,
ill a! lie carried out this plan he might
inn found a ship like tlie (Jreal East
ern "right handy. Last, spring it was
proposed load the vessel at- New
castle and take- her to Gibraltar to be.
3ised as a coal hulk. This was, of
course, an ignoble employment, but it
as the only one that could be. found.
1-orluiiaiely the idea of taking her to
^New Orleans presented itself, and was
considered favorably bv her stockhold
ers. She .should be given a cordial
srecoption among a people given
to hospitality, for .she seems deserving
"6f a better fate than has fallen to her
3ot. But iier history is not alone in
Jth:s respect. There was never any
ffiSbuig the matter with her. The
"trouble was with something else.
Tli ere were never live thousand per
ready to go from one place to an
other at the same time and in the same
jfe'h'ip. All the warehouses in a great.
Sfte'ity were never ready to he emptied at
Ake. jjjpiil of a single captain. The. Great
3iasteiS was too large for any business
thine. wss to transact. Like some men
•of greavcapaeity. .she could not come
1iwq to'jitile thing.-,. The size of the
vessel was disproportionate to that of
ithe otltijr things in this world. It
weight: hjive been a great success on the.
ocean ol some planed forty times as
large aj« ours.—C/tiair/o Times.
VICTIMS TO THE BOWL.
Kxtrjior«Himry luiuvano in Mio Con
Hunption of
)tiuiJi«
•"There are more victims of the opium
Jbabit in Rochester than most people
•imagine," said a well-known druggist,
to a Democrat awl Chronicle reporter
yesterday. "Many pat 11el.it? cases come
•wilder our daily observat ion. Few days
pass in which some of the victims do not
ca/il for opium at our store here. There
is one ease of more than ordinary in
terest: tome. Five years ago a ladv in
elegaat attire called at l.lic drug store.
She was evidently ill at ea.H'. As I po
litely asked if lliere was anythin''' 1
could do for her. she blushed deeply
and finally stammered (hat: a friend of
ijifsrs wished mmiio opium, and that she
tiad been sen! to get it. gave her
•what she wanted, and she walked hasti
jiy away.
"i suspected right here that she. told
.an untruth about the opium anil that
she wanted it for herself, but I soon
forgot the entire circumstance. It was
Ijroiighl bach to my mind, however, a
few weeks later when the. same lady
called again for the same ar
:tic'e. By the way, she was a
Sseautiful woman. Young, she. could
•jio": hitvebeen over twenty-live years old.
3 ler lusir wa- jet black, iier eyes were
.sparkling like diamonds, and her
Jtr-hceks a delicious poachy hue. She
•had a m:l_n,.l eent ligurc and a proud
Bearing that would have attracted atten
'fion anywhere. ell, she became jpiitc
ii frequent customer at my store, and
always bought the dangerous and se
*liii-i.ivo narcotic. By degrees .she lost
her bashful reserve, and grew to ask
for her drug as she would ask for
toilei-soap or cologne. Then, as time
progressed. became convinced bv act
ual observation of what I before' only
thought a probability. Her face anil
iignre bore the marks of the habit. The
yos'.'s fed trom her cheeks and her eyes
3os! their sparkle.-' Iier gait':|jlMonger
*v:ts firm and elastic, and shevfty old
•fast. Sh-' came oftcncr for £mP'dru
and bought more of it at a time. 7
watched attentively the growth of the
habit and wished there was something
1 could do to prevent it. But of course
that was otii of the question. I could
oniy see how rapidly it. was killing
iier
IMS
I "That was live years ago. She be
came prematurelv old and jaded
woman in somethinj^like a couple ot
years. Then she suddenly dropped out
of view. I wondered what hail become
of her. -Surely it had not killed her.
SUe uiust h»vu left the city or bestowed
her custom elsewhere. It was not
long before I ceased to think of her
at all.
"Finally one day a few weeks ago a
woman entered the store and asked for
some of the drug. I gave it to her and
looked at her face closely. It was my
friend of two years ago. I was lost in
amazement. She was slovenly and
raggedly attired. She looked like an
old woman, for all the world. Deep
lines were imprinted on her forehead
and her eyes were lustcrless and sunk
en. Her cheeks were hollow and al
most of the color of death. Never
could a more complete transformation
have been worked. 1 finally asked her
if she remembered the lirst time she
ever called for that stuff in this store
live years ago. She turned her eyes
away from mine and started to stam
mer something in reply, but after a
moment's hesitation burst into tears
and ran out of the door without aword.
That is the last time I have seen her.
You will get a chance to write her up
yet, my friend you will hear of a wo
man jumping into the river or shooting
herself. The Coroner's jury will fail to
lind the cause of her suicide, -but you
and I will know why. She will be
buried at the city's expense in the pot
ter's field, where and untended and
weed-grown grave will show how com
pletely forgotten the poor unfortunate
woman will be. Her life is only one
instance of the many where opium has
brought, ruin and disgrace and death.—
llochcstcr Democrat and Chronicle.
IT DOES MATTER.
The Little ThinjfK of IJfc to 1Vhi'h Peo
ple lo Not Attach Due importance.
"What matters it—"twill be all the
same one hundred years hence!" How
often one hears such a remark when
somebody is tempted to intermit ail
irksome duty, or to drop a tiresomo
task, or to decline a suggested labor.
It may amount only to the smoothing
of some present path, or plucking a
thorn which might, leave a scratch on
some approaching hand, or making a
suggestion which could banish some
transient fear and since the ill which it
should seek to remedy it self seems
slight
or transitory, that it be mitigated or
abridged, appears of small account. It
may be but: a quest ion of a little more
or a little less sunshine
for a day which,
anyway, is much beclouded a question
of mote or fewer .-miles upon a face
which, anyway, must wear many
wrinkles of pain and many furrows of
anxiety a question of a few pennies
more or a few pennies less in a pocket
which is seldom white with silver and
never yellow with gold: and so it seems
easy to drop responsibility with regard
to it. and fall back upon ihe cruel chill
of the conclusion: "Well, people al
ways do get through somehow—and it
1^'ill be all the same a hundred years
hence!"
Yes, it- cannot be denied that people
always do "get through somehow:''
but does it. make no difference /ww they
get through? Is-it all flic same to the
fanner whether his potatoes when dug
arc rotten and small, or large and firin
whether his corn be smutty or sound:
whether his apples be gnarly, specked
and wormv—doubtfully'admi'ssible even
to the condemnation of the eider-mill—
or large and lair, candidates for the
first honors of the market whether his
butter be lardy in look and stron- in
flavor, or bright and fragrant whether
his'hay be half weeds and all musty., or
clean clover, fine-top and herdsgrass
with a sweet and wholesome odor
whether the wood which hauls to
town be lean, cadaverous .'rch, cut at
the wrong time of the sap, and water
soaked red oak. or sound and well
seasoned hickory? Of course it makes
a difference--to his reputation, and to
his profits. And the point is that, in
all human probability.- not any one
great disastrous thing'is responsible for
that difference, but a thousand little
neglects and misjudgments. His
neighbor goes beyond him in
everything, and always finds a
ready sale at first-class prices for
everything which he has to dispose of,
while he is hanging around the streets
and shops, trying vainly to'-peddle his
wares and this not through any favor
itism or belter "luck," or anything of
that sort in his neighbor's'case,"but
because his processes were better and
his crops were better, and so the re
sults are better. And these processes
—with their resulting harvest—were
bettor simply because his neighbor, in
stead ot idly sitting down under the
stupefying shadow of the notion that
all will be the same a hundred vears
hence, was diligent in business.'daily
and hourly doing all the little thing's
which his hand could find to do to fore
fend weeds, to mellow the soil, to keep
away the woihns from his fruit and the
ill growths from iiis meadows, and
generally to make it sure that hi* share
of all results should always count: at
least twelve, if not thirteen, to the
dozen.
Nothing is a trifle which has vital
connections with the future. And that
prosy rhyme of Dr. Young:
Think nought a .trirte. clioiiurli .small it ap
pear:
Smalt sands tins mountain, moments make
the year
And trifles lire—
is better truth than poetry. If it were
possible to analyze, accurately and
minutely one hundred human lives, and
determine the proportion of what mav
fairly be called real happiness entering
into each and the exact causes thereof
we have an idea that most people
would be surprised to find: (1) how
much less happy many are than the
world think (2) how uracil inorehappv
many are than the world think: (,'})
how largely the happiness that is, is
ilue to little things. And possibly one
result of meditation thereon might, be
to lead the wise to conclude thaMt is a
vcr^ftnnianly, if not foolish, reason to
givef-vfor any action, or for the
neglect of any action, that it will be all
tlu'same a bundle.I years heiiee.—Cou
grcijutioiialinl.
—There hunting packs in En
gland, compri«%gT0,00( hounds. Their
aunual cost is $1,750,00',).
-t
FASHIONS IN FUk
Sealskin Still in Kanhlon—The CMly Sable
and the Inexpensive Fox Bugs aud'
Kobe*.
In no branch of her domain is Queen
Fashion more exacting in her require
ments of her devotees than in the mat
ter of outdoor wraps and winter gar
ments, and those of the fair sex whose
liege lords, fathers, and loving indulg
ent mammas have purses sufficiently
long and plethoric in contents to gratify
their tastes in this direction may in
dulge their fancy free an deck them
selves in elegant and eostlytrobes, know*
ing full well that they are dbing homage
to their queen, and are'!just right."
It is scarcely necessary to state that
furs grow in favor year aftiu- year aud
a number of stylish garments form the
matter for tin article on fashionable
furs. First, then, sealskin still holds
the position of prominence as .the
"leader" and the most fashionable for
the manufacture of dolmank, Newmar
kets, sacks, cloaks, French Wraps, peler
ines, mufl's, bonnets, and tlx pies. The
most valuable and lines? peals are the
Alaska. Siberian coast, and Shetland.
The pelts of fur seals are brought to
the market unprepared in oasks of brine,
and after remaining in pickle a suffi
cient length of time to render it soft and
tli able the pelt is cleared oi the long,
dark gray hairs by a tedious process,
and only the fine, close fur underneath
remains untouched. On/ the fineness
and closeness of this secitnd layer de
pends the value of the skin. There is
very little difference in the natural color
of the skins, the rich, dark glossy, and
the red-brown colors being the work of
the dyer. It requires several skins to
make a garment, therefore the neces
sity of using great care in order to
have skins of the same color, as any in
congruity would spoil the effect, and
naturally retard the sale. None but
the best skins will tanc the rich, dark
color so much admired and so popular.
Quite a number of Ptcific Coast, Cop
per Island and Cape Horn sealskins
have been made up md offered for sale,
but. while they possess, all the elegance,
so far as appearance is conecrned, of
the best quality, tliey are a delusion
and a snare, and a little wear is dam
aging to their beauty and to the feel
ings of the unfortunate possessors.
Sacks, cloaks, ulsters and walking
jackets are familiar to all, but the
French wrap, although quite unpoular
in France, is a new candidate for favor
in America and gives promise of be
coming very fashionable. It is short
in the back, flowing sleeves, and long
tabs in front, the trimming being in
French black Ivnx. For trimmings
golden beaver, sable, while fox, lvnx,
and all line natural furs are fashionable.
Golden beaver is a novelty and will
surely be the rage. As the name in
dicates, it is of the color of gold, sub
dued and very rich, adding greatly to
the elegant appearance of the garment.
Sealskin is the most popular fur for
winter pelerines, and the graceful eon
tour is well suited for slim youthful
figures. The pelerine has along point,
at the. back, is round in front, and
generally edged with beavr. Toques
of sealskin, ornamented with the claw
ot a seal, are very pretty and quite
fashionable, while .seal mull's are also
quite in vogue. Sealskin bonnets have
become fashionable, taking the place
of sealskin caps and large hats.
They are durable and are not ex
pensive. In the matter ot prices the
backwardness of the season has natur
ally been more or less against the trade
and dealers will sell very close. Quo
tations for sealskin sacks range from
•Slot) to 8--(K ulsters and .Newmarkets
S27.0 to S iot). walking-jackets S100 to
8150, French wraps Slot) to $250, and
bonnets from §10 to .SI ").
Sables are the most costly of all
furs. and values vary. Common
American skins sell from §5 to §20
each, while Russian sables are worth
from Slii to §200. The average length
of the little animal is twelve inches,
and,the tail six inches, .so that it
takes an army of skins to make a
garment. The Emperor Nicholas of
Russia owned a sable pelisse valued at
$12,0011. aud a coat or cloak lined with
sable is worth a couple of thousand
dollars. The tails of the sables make
beautitul ornaments for seal or velvet
cloaks, but even they are very expen
sive. Sable capes have not been worn
to any great extent, of late years, but
arc now becoming more in favor.
Black tox and silver gray fox are also
valuable furs, and a portion of the neck
of the former skin is used by Russian
noblemen to form collars or facings on
coats. Six necks are required, making
the cost of a collar about 81)00. An
old saying, reading as follows:
Xotliinu IS thought, rare
Wliieli is not new ami lollowol yet we know
that which was worn .-onit' twenty years e,io
(Jollies into grace again,
still holds good, and the costly and
elvgant mink is now steadily increasing
in popularity.
Parlor rugs are very fashionable, and
the correct: thing is a Bengnl tiger,
grizzly or black bear skin, so mounted
as to preserve the head intact. Skins
of all Miiall fur animals mav be used in
the same manner. Style in furs is not
all allotted to the gentler sex. hut the
lords of creation may indulge in seal
skin caps and gloves, while fur trim
mings on overcoats is growing in pop
ularity in this country.'— C/uc(i'/t Trib
une.
SINGLE BEDS.
An hlcinent ol Household ICeoiiomy Which
1* Seldom I'nietii-ed.
Years ago, before the discussion of
sanitary and hygienic methods had be
come common, and the majority of peo
ple jogged on in familiar ruts, 1 watdied
the, rise and progress of a little family,
the live children in which represented
every phase of the keen, nervous life
belonging to this generation. The
lather was a scientific st udent, over
woiked always, and knowing no other
life as possible or desirable ihe mother
intense and eager, with small physical
vitality, and depending ehietlv on her
will, assisted by strong tea, "to carry
hot through each busy day. Ii,.,- ,!oiv
.iion sense was admirable, and, so far
as knowledge admitted, she did'all that
she knew for the best development of
the live restless little souls in her
eluu-ge. They had abundant fresh air
and good food, and they wete not &TBT
stimulated in any direction but they
had tempers of such dimensions that
the ample backyard in which they spent
much of their waking time was often
more like a cage of vigorous hyenas.
Fond of one another, resenting fiercely
any injustice or presumption from
other children, they squabbled from
morning till night, chronic ill-temper
Settling down on the bright faces, and
lurking in the. soft hazel eyes they had
inherited from the father. The baby
alone seemed equable and tolerably
mild: but Mabel and Bess, the seven
and nine year old girls, and Harry and
Frank, the younger boys, each pair
sleeping together in thcordinary double
bed, quarreled at least once an hour,
and often went to sleep worn out
with passionate crying. The mother
argued and punished, plead and pun
ished again, half desperate at times
over the state of things, and experi
menting in every way with food, tem
perature and exercise, to bring them
into better condition.
-I don't know what it means," she
wailed one day. '-They are lovely ba
bies. Look at their eyes when they are
good, sweet and quiet as little cherubs,
and yet they behave like little demons.
There's nobody on either side of the
house with such dispositions, and they
wear on one another and ou me until I
want to die and take them with mo."
It was a puzzle, solved a year later i?t
a fashion so simple that the mother
wails again over the time lost. There
was a cure not instantaneous by any
means, but a cure, and the cfiiMyfeii an
now as harmonious a group as arc often
to be found.
"You want to know how I did it,"
she said, one day in a recent visit. "I
didn't do it at all. It was single beds.
Bess and Mabel slept together, you
know, and I had incessant trouble try
ing to keep Mabel warm enough and
Bess cool enough. Bess could not bear
to be touched and Mabel could not bear
not to be. No matter how Bess fought
her off', the moment sleep came Mabel
rolled over and had her arms around
her. I put a bar between, btik if made
little diference. It was precisely the
same case with the tfwoboys. One day,
it came to me all' at once, as 1 looked
at the baby*^uiet and comfortable iu
his crib, t.he'se children need separate
beds. I had thought and talked often
enough of the influence of people on
one another, but never dreamed of ap
plying it to them. 'What a fool you
have been!' I said to myself. 'Here they
are, all with marked individualities and
with the most differing physical charac
teristics. Mabel draws on Bess and ex
hausts her nervousforce every night and
Harry does the same. I.will see if it
can't be mended.' 'We are not over
burdened with money, and I had to
think and plan before I could change
the big double beds for single ones. I
had the mattresses made over, and
succeeded in making an exchange.with
an amiable old furniture dealer. The
children were delighted the .day the
'four pretty single beds were set up. Iu
a week I saw a difference, and in a
month it was so marked that every
one noticed it. Each one had freedom,
just the amount of covering required,
and slept quietly and almost dream
lessly. Not a room in my house save
the spare room has anything now but a
single bed, and the gain has been for
every one of us. It makes no more, or
very little more work. Sheets are
smaller and more easily washed, and if
it doubles the wear I should still know
thi? gain to be incalculable. Half the
ill-toMper of the world comes from the
electrical changes undergone by the
nervous system where couples sleep
night after night under the same bed
clothing, for life is a system of giving
and taking in more ways than one, and
I want you who preach the things that
make for peace to preach this also."
I had come to the same faith and did
not need the exhortation, but there are
many who do and who would find the
difference immense were they once wil
ling to try the experiment. "The Scien
tific American some time ago made a
forcible ulea for the adoption of the
habit, writing:
"There is nothing that 'will more de
range the nervous .v.-jtein of a person
who is eliminative in nervous force than
to lie all night in bed with another per
son who is absorbent in nervous force.
The absorber will go to sleep and rest
all night, while the eliminator will be
tumbling and tossing, restless and nerv
ous, and'wake up in the morning fret
ful, peevish, fault-linding and dis
couraged. No two persons, no matter
who they are, should habitually sleep
together. One will thrive and ihe oth
er will lose."
Even for the most, phlegmatic this
has proved itself true, and the matter
demands the consideration not onlv of
mothers, but of all who desire the "best
and most efficient life.—Com/reqation
ttl'ISt.
Didn't Understand.
On an Arkansaw railway train. A
passenger calls the conductor and says:
'•Seems to take some time."
"Yes, they are rather slow to-night.'*
"Why don't you burn coal so you
wouldn't have to stop ami wood up:j"
"We do burn coal."
'Then what are vou stoppinj here
for:'"
"Oh, I didn't understand you when
you said it look 'em some. time. Wo
are waiting for the train robbers to
blow open the express safe. Don't be
in a hurry, they'll be through pretty
soon. Ah, here they come now. Better
hold up your hands, I reckon."—Ar~
kaiiNaiti Traveler.
—The blood of the lower animals is
commotily colorless, It has, however
a blueish cast in ccuslaceane, reddish]
yellowish or greenish in worms, and
reddish, greenish or brownish in jellv
fishes. The blood is colorless in fho
muscular part of fishes: .that of birds is
of the deepest red-.^he red liquid
which appears when tip head of a fly is
crushed is not blood, lftit comes from
the eyes. In vcrlebrolws' the blood i.s
red. except in one species of white
blooded fish. Philadelphia Press.
...
—-A Boston colored man, who recent
ly wooed and won the object of his lovu
ottered as one of the inducements to
the desired match: "Yes. honev. an'
you needn't do a stitch of work"W a
ween after de weddin'."—JJoslon .Jour
nal•
BEADING FOR THE YOUNG.
FOR BASS-WOOD CHAPS.
The boy th«t likes Spring or Summer or Fall
BetterMian otd'Klnif Winter
la sort of a buss-wood splintor—.
Soft stuff iu fact, lie's iio boy at afl.
Awny from the stove, and look out therol
Bid von ever see a pieniro so fair?
Kinvr Winter, from mountain to plain
Not a bcrrar injili his train,
'i'he poky oid pump,
The ugliest stump:
One is in ermine from chips to chin.
The other—no Itimb can Oeirin
To kwk so warm and soft, and full,
Thoutrh up to its eyes in wrinkles of wool.
Pee old Jlnme Post, with her nUrhtcap on.
Miidum Uush in her shawl with the white nap
on!
Crabbed old Huflielor Hrdtfe—
Where, now, is his prickly eds c?
And scriwry old ran'sir Tree,
Shabby ns shabby could tie.
How lie spreads himself in his uniform.
Lording it over the cold aud the storm
Summor? Oh, yes, 1 know stie will rtrcas
Her dainty dear-dears in loveliness
lint Winter—the jfreut and small,
Angelic and utfl.v, all
He tailors so line, you would think each one
The grandest personage under the sun.
Who is afraid he'll be bit to death
By a monster which bites with nothing but
breath?
There's more real mnnhood, thirty to three.
In the little chicks of a chickadee:
Never were merrier creatures than they
When Summor to htrndreds of mites away.
Your stay-in-doirs, bass-wood splinter,
Knows not the liist thinir about Wintor.
A flg for your Summer boys,
They 're no whit better than toys.
Give me the chap that will oir to town,
When the wind is blowing the chimney down,
When the bare
.frees bond and roar
Like breakers an the shore.
Into the snow-drifts, plunged to his knees
Yes, In clear up to his ears, if you please,
Ituddy and ready, plucky in# strong:,
Piillins his little iluek-leK-s along
The rmili'Js full, but he's bound to
it.
go
through
He has business on hand, and is round to doit.
As yonder you see him breaking paths for th6
sleighs,
So ho '11 be on the lead to the end of his days:
One of Winter's own boys, a hero i.s he,
No bass-wood triere, tint, good hard hickory!
—Joint Vance Chewy, in St Xichouui.
'EYES AND NO EYES.'
Tito Groat. DifTerenee 111 tlio Way ill Which
JVoplw Use Their Visual Orpitns—The
••I.ueky" nntl til© "t'nlueky" Boy.
Did it ever occur to you what a dif
ference there is in the way in which
people use their eyes? I do not mean
that some people squint, and some do
not, that some have short sight, and
some long sight. These are accidental
differences and the people who can not
see far, sometimes see more, a-nd more
truly, thau do other people whose vis
ion is as keen as the eagle's. No, the
difference between people's eyes lies ill
the power and the habit of observation.
Did you ever hear of the famous con
jurer, Robert Houdin, whose wonderful
tricks and feats of magic were the as
tonishment of Europe a few years ago?
He tells us, in his autobiography, that
to see everything at a glance, while
seeming to see nothing, i.s the first
requisite in the education of a "ma
gician," and that the faculty of notic
ing rapidly and exactly can be trained
like any other faculty. When he was
fitting Iiis little son to follow the same
profession he used to take him past a
shop-window, at a quick walk, and
then ask him how many objects in the
window he could remember and de
scribe. At first, the child could only
recollect three or four but gradually
he rose to ten, twelve, twenty, and, in
the end, his eyes would note, and his
memory retain, not less than forty
articles, all caught in the few seconds
which it took to pass the window at a
rapid walk.
It is so more or less with us all. Few
things are more surprising than the dis
tinct picture which one mind will bring
away from a place, and the vague and
blurred one which another mind will
bring. Observation is one of the valu
able faculties, and the lack of it a fault
which people have to pay for, in various
ways, all their lives.
There were once two peasant boys in
France, whose flames were Jean and
Louis Cardilliac. They were cousins
their mothers were both widows, and
they lived close to each other in a little
village, near a great forest. They also
looked much alike. Both had dark,
closely-shaven hair, olive skins, and
large, black eyes but in spite of all
their resemblances, Jean was always
spoken of as -'lucky," and Louis as
"unlucky," for reasons which you will
shortly see.
If the two boys were out together, in
the forest or-wlie lields, they walked
along quite differently. Louis"dawdled
in a sort of loose-jointe.l trot, with his
eyes fixed on whatever happened to be
in his hand—a sling, perhaps, or a
stick, or one of those snappers with
which birds are scared away from fruit.
If it were tin# stick, he cracked it as he
went, or he snapped the snapper, anil
he whistled, as he. did so, in an absent
minded way. Jean's black eyes, on flie
contrary, were, always on the alert, and
making discoveries. 'While Louis stared
and puckered his lips up over the snap
per or the sling, Jean would note, un
consciously but truly, the form of the
clouds the look of the sky in the rainy
west, the wedge-shaped procession of
the ducks through the air, and the way
in which they used their wings, the bird
Calls in the hedge. He, was quick to
mark a strange leaf, or an unaccus
tomed fungus by the path, or any small
article which had been dropped by the
way. Once he picked up a five-franc
piece once a silver pencil-case which
belonged to the cure, who was glad to
get it again, and gave Jean ten sous bv
way of reward. Louis would have liked
ten sous very much, but somehow he
never found any pencil-cases and it
seemed hard and unjust *hen'his moth
er upbraided him for the fact, which,
to her thinking, was rather his misfort
une than his fault.
"How can I help it,?" he asked. "The
saints are kind to Jean, and they are
not kind to mo —voilu tout
"The saints help those who help
themselves," retorted his mother. "Thou
art a look-iu-the-air. Jean keeps his
eyes open: he has wit, aud he notices."
But such reproaches did not help
Louis, or teach him auything. liabit
is so strong.
"There! cried his mother one day,
when he came in to supper. "Thy
cousin thy lucky cousin—has a»*aiu
been lucky. He has found a trufHe
bed. and thy aunt has sold the truffles
to the man from Paris for a hundred
francs. A hundred francs! It will be
lono before thy stupid lingers can earn
the half of that!"
Where did Jean find the bedf"
ftsketl Louis.
In tbe oak copse nour the brook,
Lift
"1
where thou mightest hare found theiaj
as easily as he," retorted his mother.!
"He was walking alon^ with Daudot? the,
wood-cutter's dog—whose mother was'
a truffle-hunter-and Daudot began to|
point and scratch, and Jean suspected
something, got a spade, dug, and crack!1
a hundred francs! Ah! his another is
to be envied."
The oak copse! Near the broojf!"-!
exclaimed Louis, too much excited toj
note the reproach which concluded the:
sentence. "Why, I was there but thw
other day with l')audot, and I remem-j
ber now, he scratched arid whined
great deal, and tore at: the ground. I
didn't think anything about it at the
time."
"Oh, thou little imbecile—thou stu
pid!" cried his mother, angrily
"There were the truffles, and the first
chance was for thee. Didn't think any
thing about it! Thou never dost think
thou never wilt. Out of my sight, and
do not let me sec thee again until bed
time."
Supperless and disconsolate poor
Louis slunk away. He called Daudot,
and went to the oak copse, resolved
that if he saw any sign of excitement
on the part of the dog, to fetch a spade
and instantly begin to dig. But Daudot
trotted along quietly, as if there were
not a truffle left in France, and the walk
was fruitless.
"If I had only." became a favorite
sentence with Louis, as time went on.
If I had only noticed this." If I
had only stepped then." But such
phrases ar'o apt to come into the mind
after something has been missed by not
noticing or not stopping, so they do
little good to anybody.
Did it ever occur to you that what
people call "lucky chances," though
they seem to come suddenly, are it*
reality prepared for by a long uncon
scious process of making ready on the
part of those who protit by them?
Such a chance came at last to both
Jean and Louis—to Louis no less than
to Jean but one was prepared for it,
and the other was not.
Prof. Sylvestre, a famous naturalist
from Toulouse, came to the forest vil
lage where the two boys lived, one
summer. He wanted a boy to guide
him about the country, carry his plant-,
cases and herbals, and help in his
search after ran flowers and birds, and
he asked Madame Collot, the landlady
of the inn, to recommend one. She
named Jean and Louis they were
both good boys, she said.
So the professor sent for them to
come and talk with him.
Do you know the forest well, and
the paths?" he asked.
Yes, both of them knew the forest
very well.
"Are there any woodpeckers of such
and such a species?" lie asked next.
Have you the large lunar moth here?
Can you tell me where to look for Cam
panila rhomboidalis?" and he rapidly
described the variety.
Louis shook his bead. He knew
nothing of any of these things. But
Jean at once waked up with interest.
He knew a great deal about woodpeck
ers—not in a scientific way, but with
the knowledge of one who has watched
and studied bird habits. He had quite
a collection of lunar and other moths ol
his own, and though he did not recog
nize the rare Campanila by its botanical
title, he did as soon as the professor de
scribed the peculiarities of the leaf and
blossom. So M. Sylvestre engaged him
to be his guide so long as he stayed in
the region, and agreed to pay him ten
francs a week. And Mother Cardilliac
wrung her hands, and exclaimed more
piteously than ever over her boy's "ill
luck" and his cousin's superior good
fortune.
One can never tell how a "chance"
may develi»*i. Prof. Sylvestre was well off
and kind or heart, lie had no children
of his own and he was devoted, above
all other things, to the interest of sci
ence. He saw the making of a first-rate
naturalist in Jean Cardilliac, with his
quick eyes, his close observation, his
real interest in finding out and making
sure. He grew to an interest in and
liking for the boy, which ripened as the
tiu:e drew near for him to return to his
university, into an offer to take Jean
with him and provide for 1mseducation,
on condition that Jean, in return,
should render him a certain amount of
assistance during his out-of-sehool
hours. It was, in effect, a kind of
adoption, which might lead to almost
anything: and Jean's mother was justi
fied in declaring, as she did, that his
fortune was made.
"And for thee, thou canst stay at
hom'e and dig potatoes for the rest
of thy sorry life," lamented the moth
er of Louis. "Well, let people say
what they will, this is an unjust world
and, what is worse, tin saints look on
and do not prevent it. Heaven forgive
me if it is blasphemous to speak so, but
1
can not help it!"
But it was neither "luck" nor "in
justice." It was merely the difference
between "eyes and no eves"—a differ
ence which will always exist and al
always tell.—Susan Coolid'je, in S. S.
Tim
ex.
—Not only are then letter carriers in
the lai-ge cities of England, but in the
towns and villages, and even in the ru
ral districts, letters are delivered direct
at the houses of their recipients. For
merly the letter carriers went their
rounds afoot, but now all those in the
rural^districts have been provided by
the Government with tricycles, which
run excellently on the admirable roads
of England. These carriers also take
with them a stock of stamps and
stamped envelopes for registered letters,
to sell to the people who live at a con
siderable distauce from the office.
.—There is a curious statement of
divers writers to the effect that the skin
of the West Indian creole feels cooler
than that of a European or American
from the Northern States. The same
is true of the Louisiana Creole the vig
orous European or Northerner who
touches a creole hand during the burn
ing hours of a July or August day has
reason to be surprised at its coolness
such a coolness as tropical fruits retain
even under the perpendicular fires of an
equatorial sun.
—In an ante-election guessing match
at Cincinnati a man came within one of
the exact number of votes cast for
Cleveland. Another, James Boyle, a
newspaper man, was only three votes
awav.—Cincinnati 'Times'.
WM

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