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SCHLEY COUNTY ENTERPRISE.
A. J. HARP, Publisher.
Winter Days.
; Our birds have flown:
Tbeir barren neste are left alone,
Clinging to leafless bush or wind-topped tree,
Mementoes mute of Springtime’s blue and
green,
Of fragrant orchards blossoming between
Brown, sun-warmed walls,
Of wide swifhg doors and breezy halls,
And flower-beds decked for the drowsy bee.
But now, alas I
The blighting frost Is on the grass.
Tern are the wither’d leaves from each loved
tree;
The brooks are still, the woodlands dim and
cold,
And harvest fields have yielded all their gold.
O, swift-winged bird!
To that bright land where now is heard
Thy tuneful lay, I’d gladly follow thee.
IN THE ALTMAEKT.
* BY MART N. PRESCOTT.
Violet had lost both her situation and
her lover when Mrs. Van Buren called.
“I’ve just had a letter from my old
friend Frau Schilling in Dresden,” she
said. “She wants me to find her a com¬
panion in America who can sing a little.
Gould anything be more fortunate? I
propose to send you, Violet.”
“You are very kind to think of me.
But in order to go, I shall be obliged to
use all the money I have put aside for a
rainy day.”
“But it is not exactly fair weather now,
is it? Besides, it will be capital well in¬
vested. You will see thc world, you
will learn German, and you will forget
Mr. Dabney, and perhaps marry a Ger¬
man baron.”
“I don’t want to marry a German bar¬
on, Imt I think 1 will go, thank you.”
And the next outward-bound German
steamer carried her to Hamburg. Not
knowing a syllable of the German tongue,
she engaged a young German woman who
was returning home to travel with her to
Drtsden, where Frau Schilling met her.
iilic found her situation no sinecure, to be
sure. Frau Schilling’s English was so
broken as to be almost beyond repair.
Once or twice Violet went out with her
*o afternoon tea, where she sat like a
:st ituc, trying with all her might to grasp
tho thread of conversation in vain; the
loneliness of a stranger in a foreign land,
unable to speak the language, possessed
In r. It, sometimes seemed to her that she
should die unless she could find some-
body to whom she could rehearse her
I lougbts and trials in good terse English.
Frau Schilling lived in the eastern part of
the city, in a street leading out of Durer-
stnis.se. Although it was remote from
the central market-places and the shops,
and from almost everything, it made up
for this inconvenience in being cheap,
hut Frau Schilling convinced everybody
that she lived there for the pure air and
the view. Of course the tramway ran
near, on its way to Blasewiltz, but Frau
F 'holing and her companion always
walked when they went out—it was so
•nuch healthier. Violet had been to the
Royal Gallery and the Altmarkt but once,
in the convoy of Frau Schilling, when
one afternoon, after she had been a fort¬
night in the city, it occurred to her to
walk out alone, and make acquaintance
with the place. It was quite late in the
day, however, before she got started, and
the sky was already a deep saffron-color
in the west. She remembered that Frau
Schilling had conducted her down Du-
rerstrasse, past Holbeinplatz, through the
narrow little Zeigelstrassc, pausing to
look at the old Saxon monument at the
corner of the Botanical Garden, where
Death, with his hour-glass, stands like a
shadow behind the warrior. The stream
of passers scarcely observed her as she
loitered upon the Terrace of Bruhl, and
’topped to count the spires in the Neus-
taxlt; u band was playing in the Belvedere
some homesick strain that persued her as
she went on toward the gilded groups of
stituary that adorn the flight of steps
giving upon the Schlossplatz.
The sunset light was upon everything;
a steamer was towing a fleet of barges up
the river; the hills across the Elbe looked
b!u« and enchanting in the distance; but
h ail made her feel more alone and bereft.
It was a fair, a great world; but what
did it signify to her now that John Dab¬
ney had forgotten her? She crossed thc
Tlatz and went slowly up Schlosstrasse
and into the Altmarkt; it was the longest
w ay round, but it was the only way she
knew. She ventured into one or two
shops, and struggled to make herself un-
derstood, vainly; she stopped with the
crowd to gaze in at the windows of a
print-shop at some effort of the modern
masters, and wondered if it was wrong to
think them quite as satisfactory as some
of the masterpieces Frau Schilling had
pointed out tp her in the Royal Gallery;
the Altmarkt was thronged with people;
carriages hastened, who knows where;
every one seemed gay and cheerful; she
wished with all her heart that she knew
a few of these pretty women, these kind¬
ly matrons; she longed to hear somebody
speak her name over her shoulder, to
happen suddenly upon some familiar face.
Gnce she passed two people talking Eng¬
lish, and she turned back and made be-
' ' f ' ve an interest in the embroideries in a
neighboring window that she might lis¬
ten to the delicious sounds.
‘‘1 was so surprised to see him,” the
lady was saying. “He said he had come
to Dresden on important business; I can’t
think what it is,”
‘Terhaps he will tell you,” laughed
her companion.
“Oh, no; nothing of the kind: he was
never sweet upon me; we are first cous¬
ins."
“And cousins are dangerous things.
When did he leave New Yerk?”
New York I Violet's heart bounded;
here was somebody straight from home.
Perhaps she knew him. At any rate, lie
must know John Dabney ; and she found
herself wondering what this stranger’s
“important business” might be; but at
the thought of John her “old sorrow
waked and cried." It was such a mere trifle
that had separated them, “the little rift
within the lute.” IIow foolish it had
all been, and yet how irrevocable! IIow
sorely she missed his kindness, his pres¬
ence, the right to tliink of him as belong¬
ing to her 1 how bleak and barren the
world seemed without him! Life was
ended for her; that is, all that made life
worth living had left her; nothing sig¬
nified after that; she could think of noth¬
ing that she could substitute for his love;
nothing in all the world could make
amends to her for all she had squandered,
and she had a doubt if heaven would be
heaven without him. In the distraction
of her thoughts she had walked on till
she was tired, and now she turned back
into the Altmarkt. IIow the scene had
Changed 1 the people, the shops, the car-
riages, were still there, to be sure, and
the figure of Germania in the centre of
the square still seemed to soar into the
violet heavens. It was all another world
by gaslight; such necromancy had been
wrought that Violet could not tell which
direction to take toward home; so many
cross lights puzzled and blinded her.
Everybody was hastening homeward;
everybody had some one waiting and
watching for his approach, some one
thinking of him. Only she was forlorn
and alone and desolate. She forgot that
“No wind could drive her bark astray.
Or change the tide of destiny.”
Of course it would be impossible for
Violet to lose herself to-day in Dresden;
she laughs at the idea; but at that time it
was quite a different story, The Alt-
markt, as everybody knows, is a square
shut in with shops, with two streets
leading out of it from each of its four
corners, so to speak. In a frenzy of fear
Violet choose one of these streets; if it
were the Schlosstrasse through which she
had come to the Altmarkt, she knew it
would presently bring her in view of the
thoroughfare leading into the Schloss.
platz, where the gilded groups on thc
stairway of Bruhl’s Terrace would show
her that she was all right for home.
That was the only route she knew, but
after walking some distance, the street
ended against a dark and forbidding
building; then she retracted her weary
steps and hurried in the opposite direc¬
tion, into Wildrufferstrasse, and as this
opens upon the Portplatz, she soon saw
that she was wrong again; always she re¬
turned to the Altmarkt, feeling that this
was her only guide and safety, as the
street which had brought her there must
still lead out of it, unless some enchant¬
ment has been at work.
In her haste and excitement she ex¬
plored one street after another without
hitting upon the right one, and, in fact,
following several of them more than once
before recognizing her mistake. If it
had been daylight, she felt that all would
be well, the adventure would have been
delightful; but here,with the clocks strik-
ing eight in the darkness, made more per-
plexing by the numberless lights, without
a German word in her vocabulary, it was
anything but comfortable. Desperate at
length, l when the Schlosstrasse really
scemed to . vanish i out . of t existence, she ac-
costed . and , asked , her x___ •
a woman way , in
English. 0 The woman smiled, , and , shook * .
, her head. . , It of , asking , . the
was no use „ .
nobody . , understood • . 11 her. She was
way: J
hungry f and cold and . faint. .. . . T It . seemed v. to
_
her that she had been hunting for the
Schlosstrasse , for , , hours, and might con-
tinue in • that . occupation ,• all „• night v,* if no
one came to t her aid. i rri There «« was the
droschkas, , ,, to , , be sure, drawn , up -i in long
lines, . waiting ! . for , passengers who . nevei
’ ‘
seemed to . the drivers . wrapped - m •
arrive,
smoking , . sleeping , ■
their . ,, blankets, , or con- „„
tentedly; ,, .. but she . dared , , not , take , . one,
if she could have made , thc ,, driver ... „
even
understand , , where , she , wished • , , ____ to go. At
that tr -e she did not know that a Dres-
den droschka , ... is as safe , as one’s , roof-tree. c
At last she , paused . • , her mud , and .... i dis- j-
in
pairing hutc , to , beg , he , p o(. e „ ,, m
„ith hi. wife upon bin arm. The, .«■
swered her in broad German, and she rc-
plied 1 in effusive „ . English. ,, It seemed j , to
her that the woman began , to , regard . her
with suspicion, to question .. if ■( she . were a 0
beggar, or what. The man opened his
purse. Violet shook her head, and the
tears s P^ J
my way, e 1 i8ted « If i could fi Ild
the Terrace, I should be all right. I
know the way well from there.” While
she spoke, somebody else stopped and
listened, arrested by her voice.
“Violet 1 Violet!” somebody said, dose
at her elbow; and Violet answered:
“Oh, John! John! is it you?
“Yes, it is I. I found I couldn’t live
without you.” And Violet was in his
arms, safe and happy and the German
gentleman and his wife smiled at each
other and at Violet, who no longer saw
an vbody in the crowded square but John
Dabney.-—Harper'* JJamir,
ELLAVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY. MARCH 25, 1886.
THE ZOUAVES’ GOAT.
And How He Overthrew the
Commanding Officer.
A Remarkable Quadruped that Lacked
Respect for Rank.
“I never see a goat,” remarked Col.
Fred Martin of the Brooklyn elevated the
other day, “but l am reminded of abeau-
tiful animal once owned by Hilly Wilson’s
j Zouaves. I can’t truthfully assert that
Billy owned the goat; he didn’t; it be¬
longed to the regiment, but as Hilly
owned the regiment it’s pretty much the
same thing. That goat was r joy forever,
and his peculiar talents were largely en¬
hanced by the disinterested efforts of his
numerous friends in Billy Wilson’s com¬
mand.
“I made the acquaintance while cam¬
paigning along the northern Gulf shore.
Billy’s crowd were penned up as a garri¬
son in Fort Pickens, and the robs held
all the Florida coast, so that the butter-
nu ^ gunners at Fort Barrancas used to
‘ themselves plumping shells into
amuse
the sand heap on which Pickens stood.
Santa Rosa Island’s its name, areal pret-
^y name for a horrible locality. About
the onl y tbin S those shHls accomplished
bosides keeping the hands of the gunners
in was t0 s P oil tho P arade K round - Ever y
t,me one exploded it would blow out a
hole bi g enou S b hide fourcow8 ,n - and
this J ust worrit>d Gcn - Isra,>1 Vo ^ lez >
who was commandant there, until he
couldn’t stand it any longer, and he set
W 8 mcn t0 work with shovels filling
»P the hok ' s ’ and - as there was a fresh
cr0 P ewr y da y> Bili y’ s mcn got pretty
tire<L Thc y weren ’t fond of work ’ ftn y
wa y- You sw; - about 500 of them bad
d ' ed or bcen killed off before they struck
Pickens, but those left were game chick¬
ens, and didn’t take kindly to shovelling.
“It was hot on Santa Rosa— just the
place for Billy’s men to get acclimated
in. Vogdez was the best read man in
the army, and he didn’t take kindly to
the boys’ social ways, and he took pains,
with the able assistance of the Confeder¬
ate gunners, to keep down their exuberant
spirits. One day, when a gang of ’em
were toying with a sand pit, and filling
it at the rate of about one shovelful in
two hours, the general rushes out from
his casement, hauls the lazy detachment
up in line, and goes for them baldheaded.
He wasn’t more’n five feet tall, Israel
wasn’t, but as he was most as thick and
as wide, he made up for it. Standing on
the edge of the crater, in a costume that
was mostly trousers, he lectured, stoop¬
ing lower with every point laid down.
“As it was, he made a lovely target,
and that cussed goat who was loafing in
the parade got on to the range, and all of
a sudden, after many skips, jerks, and
prances, he let himself off, and hit the
General like a 15-inch round shot, piling
him head first into the hole.
“It was an awful moment for Billy’s
men. There's a time to laugh, the Scrip¬
ture says, and Billy’s men thought it was
there, but they didn’t dare grasp the op¬
portunity, and they feared for the goat
whom they loved. Vogdez was awful
mad. He made Billy promise to have
the goat massacred, and Billy gave the
order, but it was never executed .—New
York Sun.
A „ nnted Hunler> *
. °. f a,lthe natlve than blrds > . D Elorlda ., ” one
interesting the Heron tribes,
The king of all these tribes is the g^rat
Bluc « er0D ’. ^ grows to an extraordinary
8,z '*’ Ca P taln Dumm,tt ’ who P lanted the
most noted orange grove m the State,
killed one on a bayou near Mosquito 1 La-
-
htteen which , . . measured ,
goon years ago
nine feet seven inches , from the .. point ’ . A of .
its bill to the tips oi its toes. The coast-
. bayous and lagoons usually dot¬
wise J are J
ted with small .. islands. . , , T In
mangrove
South Florida the mangrove grows to a
height of sixty and eighty ' feet, but north
of Cape Canaveral , it . . gnarled , bush ,
‘ is a
from ten to nftx^»n feet . , high. , . The . bushes .
^
cover the little islands as luir covers a
man’s scalp. 1 the islands are veritable ...
thickets, and woe betide the man who , is .
lost in them, ’ for . ., they are infested ....... with
‘
sand flies, red bugs, mosquitoes . mid
’ scor-
. Creeks, , ’. intense . crookedness ,
pions. 1 ’ in
and of uneven tide, ’ wind among * these
islands like the paths of a labyrinth, . ,
‘
These solitary J creeks are the favorite hsh-
. grounds of the great blue heron.
ing * s
Some of the happiest days , of . my ... life
h „» been .pent p in hMiUng ^ Ihe bird in
^ „„ w ,
Canadian canoe, ’ with my gun ” on my
knees _ and guide , the stem, T I
a in was
noiselessly poled , the winding . .. creeks .
J > over e>
beneath the arching mangroves, At
sharp turns there was frequently a scream
of affright. Huge wings were unfolded.
The great bird wafted itself into the air
and was brought to earth by a shot well
aimed. It is dangerous sport, however,
for a stranger. Even the best of guides
are sometimes lost in the green labyrinth
and suffer untold tortures. Unpracticed
hunters are apt to lose their eyes; for the
beak of the great Blue Heron is as sharp
as a need [ Cj HtK ] his long neck masks im-
mcnse sweep and great power. The bird
strikes with marvelous precision and with
the rapidity of lightning. When wound
ed jt i s especially dangerous. I was once
struck on the cheek within half an inch
of the eye. The blow was made by a
crippled snowy heron on an island in
Lake Worth. It was just after twilight.
The darkness saved my eye. J was in a
thicket looking for birds that 1 had shot
while on the wing. I saw a snowy spot
in the (indistinguishable foliage,ami took
it for a dead bird. As I stooped to pick
it up my cheek was pierced as though re¬
ceiving a thrust from a stiletto. This ad¬
venture made me extremely cautious
while hunting herons, and finally led to
a laughable scene.
In the spring of 1875 I was encamped
. the , heart of Turnbull Swamp, about . .
in
. ^ ‘l . f tl 1 > d f Indian
River. The weather was very dry, and
it t wi mu u l.sao in tho Kwunn P
1
than usual. I was hunting paroquets
wild wild turkeys, turkevs wood wood ducks ducks, deer detr, bears nears,
wild-cats and pumas. The swamp is
str . aked . , wit * t i, i .av „ hundred y v arris ‘
wide and miles in extent. Deer becom-
iiur n scarce in mv ^ vicinity I set a savanna
on fire one morning while on a turkey i
hunt. After the burning of the dead
grass the , new crop would ,, serve to . , bait
meoeerwHuiB the deer within a a fortnight iuruugui. ai At sunset t I
was miles away from camp. At dusk I
saw several gobblers fly into a grove of
tall cypresses, and marked them, with
the intention of returning in the morn¬
ing at daylight and shooting them from
the trees. The reddened sky gave me
bearings on my way hack to camp.
After wading for ten minutes through
mud and water, listening to the doleful
music of a death owl, I emerged upon
thc burning savanna. The sky was
overcast. It was as dark as Erebus. A
brisk south wind was driving thc fire
northward. The flames were leaping
over the tall, dry grass, and tinging the
clouds and the tops of the cypresses an
orange hue.
Suddenly I saw in the lurid light far
above me four great Blue Herons. They
were in line, flapping their wings with
the precision of machinery. Instinctively
I drew my gun to my shoulder. On in¬
spiration I discharged it, for the “sight”
was invisible. The second barrel did
good work. The third heron in the line
stopped, fell ten feet, and eame swooping
toward the ground in great circles. I saw
that the bird would drop some distance
away, rod ran forward to mark the spot.
But the burnt part of the savanna, despite
the lurid light from the rolling wave of
fire in the south, was as black as the
bellying darkness of the clouds. I heard
the bird strike the earth with a thud, but
did not see where it fell. The black
ashes of the burnt grass were ankle deep.
I searched for the prize, but did not find
it.
I was perplexed. Suddenly a feathery
form arose from the ashes ten feet away.
It seemed to hover above me. It was the
heron. It had elevated the white plume
on its head as an angry cockatoo draws
forward its topknot. The plume alone
could be distinctly seen in the darkness.
With a blood-curdling scream the tall
bird darted for me. I knew the danger.
On the spur of the moment I turned and
ran toward the blazing savanna. The
bird gave chase, screaming frightfully at
every jump. I divined the situation. Its
wing was broken, and it was thoroughly
infuriated. If it struck me in the rear
with its sharp and powerful beak I fan- i
cied that its head would go through me. •
Iu my haste to secure my prey I had ne¬
glected to withdraw the empty shells
from the fowling-piece. It would not do
to stand the chance of a fight by
the gun as a club, for it was so dark that
I could not gunge the bird’s distance.
Besides the bird would be facing the light,
and I would be facing the darkness. I
continued my retreat; I ran as though the
evil one was after me. In my flight I
threw open the barrels of my gun, and
drew out the empty shells. In mad
haste I reloaded and rolockod the barrels,
still running at the top of my speed.
Then I stopped, wheeled about and
banged away with both barrels. The
bird shrieked worse than ever and was
untouched.
Again I sped toward the burning grass.
I had regained my composure, however.
Fear gave way to mirth. I laughed out¬
right at the absurdity of the situation,
blessing my stars that no friends were
near to chaff me. Again 1 reloaded the
gun, turned and filed. I was on the veige
„t ft, bl«i„™ah,„l.f.irvk,
of my ]>ursu( r. At tho second shot the
heron fell, and the impetus from its speed
was so great that it came against me,legs,
wings, neck and beak, hi a limp lump. I
had shot it through the neck. Its head
was attached by the skin of the neck
alone.
I carried thc prize to camp. Its plumage
was the perfection of feathery beauty.
Old Conner, my guide, was awaiting my
return with a supper of roasted venison
and yams. The bird was so tall that Con¬
ner fastened its beak to the back of my
coat-collar, drew the neck over my head,
and the feet touched the ground. He after¬
ward severed the head from the neck,
and hurled it across the fire at the trunk
of the palmetto—I have seen performers at
a circus handle a knife in a similar way—
the sharp beak entered the tree,and stood
quivering there like a heavy-handled
bodkin; and for all that I know it re¬
mains there to this day .—Amos J. Cum
mings in thc Cook.
Edison claims that in the new phono¬
graph upon which he is now at work, the
sound will be amplified four times loudej
than the human voice.
CHANGE THEIR COLOR
Wonders of Animal Life in
California.
Bats that Live in Trees and Lizards that
Drop their Tails.
! It is often said of California that things
arc reversed here, says a letter to the
New York Timet. This is true as to cli-
mate, and might be applied to the habits
. an,mata . of the squirrels . ,
° » 88 some live
in the ground and rats in the frees. The
^ __„ r ° un< v squirrels * , particularly .. , . noticea- x .
are
ble on the mesa land, and in the canon
i thc , nert8 of , th , »*•
«
gtep The , t are on thp „ d in
th , forra -______ of ., hillocks , or mounds , three ., or
four feet high, and made up of twigs and
* .. , ks ob8 . and , .
rorn( articles .. .
' varl0U8
’ >
stolen by the wood rats, which are noto-
" OUS tlneve8 - Other nests are built at
the . liases of trees and about them, the
? 1HSS ° f , matem . bein? 8eCUr<ly ,,olin<i
S0
together that it is difficult to tear them
apart. . _, The nests . thc trees resemble
in
the squirrel nests seen in Central Park in
he , Autumn, , though . , they , were not more
than 10 feet from thc ground. A similar
n.(t , • found , , here •
is , by rich . , steel-gray
a
squirrel. These graceful creatures were
extremely . _ , and , often treed ,
common, were .
by the watchful hound that made occa¬
sional “sorties" into the brush. On one
of these incursions a fierce snarl was
< d, followed , „ , by , a deep , . baying and ,
m«dc telling of to*, gnmn, and
by tin time we reached the spot beyond
some live oaks, a big wild cat was seen
climbing up the sides of , an alder. ,, A .
bullet brought h her down for thc dog, and
being only , wounded, the fur flew „ fora ,
few minutes, the hound soon sileneimr
, hei, getting . well .. scratched , , the melee,
in
but apparently *' satisfied with her ’ share in
the ., sport. In T climbing over the rocks ,
numbers of lizards and tree toads were
found, the latter affording a striking ex-
ample A of protective ! . resemblance. Most
of , the , boulders , were of , granite, and , pre-
sented a mottled surface. Several times
, I noticed ... a small ,, toad , , leap seemingly
from in front of me, and finally, by J ex-
aminuig the ,, rocks , ahead, . . I T saw a small ,,
one, and, proceeding carefully, .’ secured
it. .. In , color , it fac simile .
was a of the
boulder, having a streaked white ground
dotted j with black, so that the animal ,
appeared to be a mere projection ' of the
stone . upon which ,. . it .. rested. , It
was one
of the tree toads, and had delicate disks
Upon ______ its .. , feet, , which ... enabled , , , . climb ,
it to
up a pane of glass later on.
m lo determine , . . the .. limit of the . .
variation
of color tliis specimen was kept 1 in con-
fanement, „ . and , placed ,
.
on successive
objects of a different color. The first
was a sheet of white paper, and some 1
hours later the animal had turned several
shades . , lighter, , the ,, grouud ,
, color becom-
ing lighter, and the black spots k fading b
out so that , they . almost invisible, . .
were
From this it was placed * upon p a black
, base, and , , before , long the , black spots
grew perceptibly 1 ” darker, and finally
seemed to pervade the ,, entire surface, the
skin assuming n a dark hue ’ mute * sufficient
for protection. . Before . other expun-
ments could he tried a horned torn! that
was ... being similarly . treated, succeeding
in
injuring it, so that other specimens * • will
, have to . be . obtained, , . . , but . . the , above ,
serves
to to show show that that this this tree tree toad toad could could adnnt adapt
ltsclf to a black, white, or spotted rock,
and an find find almost almost Derfect perfect nrotection
Among the damp leaves a number of
Btori. ««. dbtotond, varying from
four to twelve inches in length, and were
noticeable for their snake-like appear-
ance. One specimen had lost its tail,
and my companion suggMted that it had
thrown it—a faculty possessed by several
geckos. frnekrw Tv„. 1 he operation of casting t I i.o,l had
observed in another though smaller liz-
ard ard a a few ,i„„„ days previous, and i* it
is, perhaps, one of thc most remarkable
methods of protection found in the ani¬
mal kingdom. The lizard observed by
myself was a small road lizard of this
country, seemingly taking thc place of
the chameleon, though being a strictly
ground animal, and very common along
the roadsides. Ordinarily it is somewhat
difficult to catch them, but this specimen
j WHg f ortuni ,te in surprising in open
p „, mJ h „ tt „ m|)ti „ e „ itI
san< } sharply in its near virini-
^ not> howevcr , touching it. The mo-
ment thc blow was given I saw the
lizard , make , sudden ,, turn , if ., lashmg , . .
a as
its tail, and then the latter became de-
tached , , , and , hopped , , up and , down, , while ,
the lizard itself darted awav so quickly '
‘
that, ., , it .. was almost , impossible . .. . to follow , it; .
indeed, the leaping and-squirming tail
was quite sufficient to divert the atten-
tion. I immediately took out my watch
and placed the tail in my hand and it
moved vigorously for two minutes, and
for some time longer showed sign* of life,
The dismembered part was remarkable in
its resemblance to a large worm, its mo-
tions helping to complete the simile, and
it was evident that the pursuer would be
l—WJ * a Clinking it .
worm, thus giving the wily lizard time
to escape. The loss of the tail might be
disastrous, were it not replaced by a new
one. and sometimes two new ones grow,
giving the animal a curious appearance,
A living specimen in my possession shows
a new tail almost complete. Examina-
tion of the tail shows that the vertebrae
are joined very oi' closely, and a sharp jerk
on the, part the animal is quite suffi¬
cient to cast, it. As soon as the tail is
thrown off the stump is elevated as high
as possible, probably ground. to keep the wound
away from the
A STEAMBOAT COLLISION.
IN WHICH THK OREGON, OF TUI '
CI’NAKO LINK, GOES DOWN.
The I’nNKcngern nn«l Crew to the Nmnber ol
840 souls Tnl»en Oil Safely.
The magnificent ocean steamship Oregon^
of the Cunard line, one of the largest and fast
est of all the ocean carriers, was logt in col- j
lision with a schooner while proceeding under
a full end head of Detail steam * of and her when lofis arp near 88 her fo,,OW8 jour- j
The Oregon left Liverpool for New York
on the morning of Katun lay, March 6. She I
j had on board 185 first cabin passengers,sixty
, six in the second cabin, and 389 in the steer-
age. She had a crew of SOS men. At the
! beginning fresh of the voyage she had to deal with ,
winds from the north and east. but.
fairly Newfoundland fine weather. It became stormy off the
brisk banks, with a high swell and
southwest winds.
While midway between Rhinneeock. Long
island, and Fire Island, about 4:90 a. m., on
the 14th. and distant about five miles from
h ore, the few passenger* on the Oregon’s
deck noticed the lights of a vessel armroach
ing on tlie northeast tack. The light-i were
visible accordingtothesto y .fthepassengers,
ten minutes before the collision occurred
Captain Cottier was lielow and Chief Officer
Matthews was in charge of the bridge. The
decks were piled with baggage, which was
1 being taken from the hold in anticipation of
the vessel’s entry into port. J
No on<> P»i<i '” u< 'h attention tothe ap
nroaching vessel, and it was not until the un- 1
known coasting schooner struck the mam-
1 moth steamer on the port side, directly abaft
| the foremast, that the passengers were aware
0 f their danger. The shook was tremendous
and . with rebound . the schooner
a
shot back from the iron Rides of |
the doomed Cunarder and drifted off
into the darkness. Captain Cottier rushed
up from below and assumed command of the
deck. Realizina; the character of the in juries
these were apparently seen by two ocean
steamers which passed by without deviating !
from their course. The water poured in
through the huge rent in the vessel’s side,
putting cloud out the fires and raising a tremendous
of steam, so dense and
thick that the firemen in the fire-
the room deck, dropped where their all tho shovels and rushed to
passengers had been
summoned, many clad in their sleeping gar-
ments. With but few exceptions all behaved
admirablv, order and with scarcely anv trouble
dressed was quickly restored. The partly
their passengers were ordered to put on
The clothing, officers, and coffee was served to all.
under command of Captain
Cottier, proceeded to launch eight lifeboats,
which was done with some difficulty, but
successfully. The women were first put in
the boats, and then the other passengers, first-
class and steerage, and last of
all the crew Captain Pottier and Dr. Rur- ,
dan being the last to leave the steamer. The i
boats remained in the vicinity of the
wrecked vessel until davhreak. when pilot
boat No. 11 and the schooner Fanny A. Oor-
ham, Captain Mahoney, liound from Jack-
sonville to Boston were seen approaching
am ' at 8 o’clock the work of
transferring to the . the decks passengers and crew
of the small
vessels was begun. This work lasted until I
11 o’clock. When all had been transferred
both vessels bore up for New York, but were |
overhauled at noon by the Bremen steam-
ship Fulda. Captain Ringk, in-bound,
and the passengers were in turn added to
already full list of the
man board. steamer, making in all over l.ROO souls
on As soon as all were safelv re-
mormt the Fulda steamed to Sandy Hook.
reaching until the bar at 0:35, where she anchored
1 o’clock this morning,when she crossed
and came up to quarantine, in New York
bay. the Next day the passengers were taken to
After city. the collision
the Oregon drifted sea-
wards and at noon the operators at Fire
island, w ho had, at 6 o’clock, noticed the
<l>ieer Ijehnvior drafted of fully the vessel, fifteen estimated miles from that
the shore. She sank in eighty feet of
WH ^ at 1:40 p - »•> a " d «'
nightfall e „ it . was noticed . that her
foremast had been carried away. WhiU
<he main, mizzen and jigger masts were still
by -tamling, the and apparently uninjured, she sank
head, the liow paisenger? pointing seaward.
r '™ e the rescued cioflits or crew
save»i anything except the they wore,
or nfforded perhaps a handbag. No time was
to save anything, and little was
afti'r the passengere had come on
deck than to get them safely into the boats 1
a ,? d “Tm (,, the ,a ’ sacks
n i al * matter, I mgn were trails- ,
ferred to the Lioats and brought up to quar-
autiue b v the FuUia - rbuve w « re no *ocI-
(lents ln - double
the transfers of the
passengers, the sea from the time of the acci-
dent up to the arrival of the Fulda at the bar
having been as isnooth as a ball-room floor
and enabling the work to be done with but
whose conduct met with universal praise
^e’o.cgo^^b.Su^r Glasgow, 1883, the Gufon line ai !
in costing (1.950,000. She wnj
SSSMTStSS* SZa£T!lS?S.
1884 . was made in six days and ten hours,
breaking y, the best record made up
to at date. Since then better
bine has been made, the Cunarder Etruria
hours covering and the forty-four same distance minutes. in six days, flva
TTie Etruria’
big 29, record was ma le on a trip ending Augur
1885, and is the fastest.
The Presidential Term.
\ proposition to have it beqi>
ON AFIMI. 30.
In the United States Senate on the 15th
Mr. Ingalls submitted the following joint
resolution:
United Whkueas, States The first President of the
was not inaugurated until the
the Continental Congress for the installation by
curtailing Q0W cause public inconvenience in unduly
and limiting the second session of
every Whekeas. Congress; It and is
dredth anniversary fitting of the that the one hun-
George Washington the inauguration President of
as first of
l,l< ‘ 1 sited States be commemorated by the
the hauguration of his successor in 18811 upon
hereatteror same day and that this should 1* the day
ministrations the ot beginning the of successive ad¬
be it government; therefore,
Hesoloed. (Pc., That the following article
be proposed to the legislatures of the several
Gtetcs as an amendment to the Constitution
tion namely* XVT Btatos ’ a< l’ art of tlle Constitu-
Art. That tl e t r.u of offl e of the
President and the . oml session of the
Fiftieth Congress shall continue until the HOth
d iv oi April, in the year 1889, and the 30th
, , SS
official term of the successive Presidents and
Vice-Presidents and Congresses of the United
^ £$vu!££SSd rfeett^.* 0
First in Science.
Davi i E. Hughes, F. K. S., who Ml
recently pre.-emed by Queen Victoria
witn the royal gold medal as being first
in sc*ence iu ihe whole world, was a
former resident of Bowling Gieen, Keu-
t.uky, and has relatives now reading
there.
VOL I. NO. 26.
CHILDREN’S COLUMN*
When I’m • Man.
An eager youth with beaming ays*
bonded out into the world,
Anderied, “My ship’s in harbor yet
My banners stifi are furled,
But I will do the thing I can
When I’m a man I
“There are such wrongs to bo redramed,
Such rights that need defense,
I give my heart to all that's good,
My scorn to ah pretense;
I’ll work out many a noble-plan
When I’m a manl
“I have so much to see and do,
So much that I may say,
When childhood's happy days have gone,
With lessons and with play,
Then I shall try the best I can
To be a men.”
—Mary A. Barr.
Nmnook.
If we did not , , know it .. to . . be so, j* It would wouia
be hard to believe that any animal could
make its . , home in . the , midst of the olmost almost;
perpetual 1 * snow and ice of the far north.
And yet * animals . , than are
many more
generally J supposed to do so live in that
intense f cold, and have accommodated
themselves to their surroundings. For
example, the mosquito has been found as
far north as man has ever gone,
The white bear deserves attention for
thf . raanncr ; n which it has adapted itself
to its . strange mode of , life,
j t j s no t called an amphibious animal,
, but , might . , , probably , . , , be called, ,, , for ,__.. It .
so M
perfectly at home in the water—-indeed it
to- know to pnr.ua „d cptew to
nimble a fish as the salmon,
The polar bear’s foot is unusually loag
and broad even for a bear’s foot, and this
peculiarity aids . enabling it . to , .
in swim ao
rap r idly. But the great foot is of most
use m crossing the slippery ice . or crusted , ,
gn0 w. ' The under part of the foot is
covered with . , . long, soft , , fur, which ...
ans wers the double / purpose of keeping
the foot . spite . of . constant , .
warm in con-
tact with the cold ice, and of preventing
the awkward slipping . which , . , would cer-
tainly J occur if the sole of the foot were
hard and smooth.
As a rule, ’ the white bear avoids man and
exerts all its strength .. and cunning in
capturing 1 its prey. It prefers some mem-
, ber of , the seal family, probably , ,, because ,
the seals are usually so plump and tender,
Apparently J a baby walrus is a choice mor-
for it ’ for it never ne£r ^ lects an oppor-
tunity of .
pouncing on one.
in the water, the walrus would be
more than a match even for .... the polar
bear, its huge tusks and terrible strength
making it the most formidable ., of , sea
mammfl i,. ’ t.,* on thp ice ’ desnite the
fierce with which both . parents
courage
f,, hght T ht for for their their offsnrimr offspring, the the battle battle is is too too
unequal, and the unlucky little walrus,
caught napping, usually falls a victim to
the big bear. And it frequently happens
that one or both of the parent-walruses
are killed in the vain attempt to rescue
tll DaD ,
“ r y;
Nennook, as the white bear is . called
by the Esquimaux, frequently di play „
great cunning in capturing the wary seal,
which, , . , feanng , . its .. takes . , its -.
enemy, nap
on the ice close by the edge, ready to roll
lnto . the ,, water at . the , first „ alarm. , The
bear slips 1 quietly into the water a long
d ' 8ta , ”ce from , the sleeping seal, and then
gw mis under water, ’ stopping occasionally
OUt A , hlS . . head d ^ . br, athe ,* Unbl A . 1
t0 BUt a “ ‘ >
heisinsuchapositionthatthesealcan-
not get , into . , the water . without ... . c falling ...
into his clutches.— St-. Nicholas.
The Seal.
We all know that the seal is a mam-
mal just as much as a bear or a wolf, and
th "‘ “ bm “ h " * h ° “ d ” ™”
blooded. Its skull is that of a mammal,
not a fish, ’■ and its whole skeleton is, from
anatomical , point • , of .
an le ,
with its cousins on the land. Its flip-
pers and ,. its tail are but modified hands u ot , j„
an d f ee t,, and in them all the bones of
the and as well as the arm and
hand, can be plainly seen. It is a step
between the whale and the otter, and
shows us how surrounding circumstances
can change the external structure. In¬
deed, it is one of the chief and important
steps in evolution so well marked that
there can be no doubt of its significance.
However important this may be to man,
it is the most unfortunate thing that
could happen to the seal. The very fact
of its being warm blooded is the cause of
its persecution. We need the skins and
we need the fat that the poor seals are
obliged to have to protect themselves
from the cold. If they were cold blooded,
like fishes, the temperature of their body
could be made to change to suit sur¬
rounding circumstances without incon¬
venience to themselves. But this is not
possible to warm blooded animals; they
must keep their blood up to a certain
temperature, and to do this in the cold
regions of the Arctic they have to be
clothed in layers of fur and fat, the two
best possible heat retainers. Another
thing to their disadvantage is that they
have to come to the surface to breathe,
and have to bring forth their young on
the ice or on land. Thus, while their
high position in the animal scale serves
as a protection against their lower ene¬
mies, it brings them within the reach of
that dread foe of all animals, man, who
has made such destructive inroads on
some creatures, and now threatens this
most tender and harmless snimal with
the same fate.—Ye«> York Sun.