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THE ASGEL SLEEP,
When the Jay is done and the shad we fall
Over the earth like a dusky pall.
Then from the mystic, the silent dei ,
Rises the beautiful Angel Sleep.
O’er field and forest he spreads his wi.igs
V> here the cricket chirps and the wood bird
sings,
And the murmur of voices dies away,
Stilled by the angel calm and gray. '
Human passions that surge and swell
Are silenced under the mvstic spell;
And tired hearts that are used to weep
Yield to the power of the Augel Sleep.
soft he broods til! the morning grav.
Then as noiselesslv glides away, '
And the spell is lifted and hearts again
Take up their burden of eare and pain.
We call him Death. 'Tis the Angel Sleep
That comes at last from the silent deep,
And smooths forever the brow of care
And calms the fever of passion there.
So we sleep and rest. t.U the morning grav
Breaks once more, of an endless flay.
And into the mystic, the unknown deep.
Flies forever the Angel Sleep.
—Arthur Wentworth Eaton in Youths' Com
panion.
lUorimuj iictoo Seriate.
CIIAU L I E .*
A X O V E li.
BY MBS. OPHELIA XISBET REID.
CHAPTER XIII.
Wo left Charlie asleep In Innocence and
happiness, closing her eyes with the
strange new music of Escotte’s low
toned voice ringing in her ears. Her
first conscious thoughts the next morning
were a swift rehearsal of the last even
ing's acts and experiences.
“I don’t kuow how I can go down and
meet him this morning,” she thought. “It
was easy, sheltered by the darkness last
night to say, "I love you;’ easy to accept
his kisses, but to-day. with the broad sun
shine full in my face, with his line eyes
always on me—for he has always
watched and wondered at me—ah! I have
a good mind to slip otf and leave a line
to quiet Auntie when she finds I am
gone.”
Fascinated as much by the mischief as
the advantage of this plot, Charlie dressed
as rapidly as possible, wrote her little
note in startingly distinct characters,
placed it in a conspicuous position and
prepared for flight. At the side of her
uncle’s garden was a small gate, rarely
used, which led into a short alley, and
from thence into the street. This way
Charlie concluded she would take, as it
effectually sheltered her from observa
tion from the front piazza, and
also from certain chamber win
dows which she particularly wished
to avoid. Hut to elude the house
girl’s eyes was her first enterprise. This
required some finesse. Jane was so long
sweeping and dusting the stairs, so long
on the piazza and steps, and so long gaz
ing up the street from the front gate that
Charlie almost concluded that she had
been set to spy out her movements. But
at last she is gone, and lias even shut the
trout door and the way is open.
Charlie slips softly down the stairs,
crosses the garden, and has only to reach
the little gate to accomplish her w himsi
cal plan; but near the gate stands a vine
covered arbor, in which, not even half
hidden by the leaves, a tall gentleman, who
is an untolerahly persistent early riser,
has been standing tor several minutes
watching her game, lie had seen her
first as he strolled up and down the gar
den walks, open her window and look out
suspiciously. She was ready tor walk
ing, and at first he concluded she intend
ed to join him; but, later, seeing from the
low windows her careful wateli of Jane’s
movements, he began to suspect her idea.
It was rather childish, certainly, but very
like Charlie; so, much entertained, he hid
in the arbor to cut otf her flight. He let
her get quite to the gate before he coolly
walked out, and as she reached for the
latch shut h s hand tightly on hers.
“Not so last, little culprit,” he said.
“You don’t get off so easily. I shall take
you to my father and tell him of your ne
farious conduct, stealing away like a
thief in the night. What does this mean?
Do you hate me, darling, that you run off
when I am starving for a sight of you?”
He bad carried her back to the arbor
where there was a comfortable seat, and
was untying her hat and veil, but she had
never spoken. She only looked down at
her small hands with a scarlet flush on
both eh'-eks.
••Uo'.v could you do so, Charlie?*’ he
asked, taking both hands into his. “Don’t
you love me well enough to want to be
near me? I thought of seeing you as
soon a* 1 awoke, and I could hardly wait
until you came down: and I saw all your
little mamcuvres, saw you watching Jane,
saw you creep out of the house and
try to run away. Child, child, I was go
ing to be generous. I was not going to
press or hurry you about marrying me.
But, don’t you see, if you are likely to be
always slipping through my lingers, 1
must take some steps to tie you to my
side. Now, tell me what you were run
ning from. Surely not from my love;
surely not from me, Charlie?”
“1 don't know just what; perhaps from
you; but 1 think it was from uncle Hen
ry. *’
’ "Why front him, dear? Don’t you want
to see hint perfectly happy?”
“I suppose 1 do, but 1 told him ouly yes
terday that—that I didn’t love you, and —
and—you see, one doesn't like being
caught in a fib —by a minister, too.”
Escotte laughed.
“You ain’t very much afraid of uncle
Henry, l think. Why did you tell him
that ?”
“I don’t know. Oh! Escotte, maybe I
didn’t know any better until 1 found you
loved me.”
"1 shan't quarrel with yesterday morn
iug; all’s well that ends well. You are
certainly mine now, and that I may take
proper care of such valuable property, I
shall carry you in to breakfast; but
promise me before you go that you will
never run away from me again. 1 feel a
curious and perhaps an unreasonable
anxiety about that.”
“No,’l w T on’t promise, but I will go into
breakfast. See! there’s Auntie in thedoor
waiting for us.”
Mrs. Fearne was in the door watching
them. Her quick, womanly perception
had noted a change in her son last night.
She could hardly have described it. Some
thing of its potent spell sounded in his
voice. Something shone in his strangely
expressive eyes. He had not only looked
happy and, in some curious way, rested,
but he had l>ee moved.
His usually calm expression, his digni
fied reserve, his quiet, intellectual pose
was disturbed, and there was pervading
the whole man a change so subtile, so del
icate as to be evident only to his mother’s
acute sensibilities.
“Why,” she wondered, “had his always
pleasant voice sounded unfamiliar, and
yet softer and sweeter than ever be
fore ?"
She watched him furtively during the
evening, and she was watching-him now,
never thinking that Charlie’s wistful yet
happy face might have been her easiest
answer. But she had said nothing—
would say nothing just yet; only wait un
til he chose to speak.
“Come in. Charlie; your uncle is wait
ing, and so is breakfast.”
But, marvelous to relate! Charlie’s
ready tongue found no answer. She only
walked quietly in, hung up her hat and
turned to the breakfast-room.
“1 am so sorry you have waited for me,
uncle Henry. Do have your breakfast
now. won’t you?”
“Why? there’s no hurry, dearie; no
hurry.' Shan’t we wait for Escotte and
mother?”
‘•We are nere. father. Let us have
breakfast, for I’ve a little business with
you afterwards.”
"Then, my son, your business must
wait. Another time will do as well. To
day 1 must devote to Charlie. She shall
read some Latin with me before her
grandmother sends an express after her
which I look for at any moment. Ah!
that woman! Well, let’s have the bless
ing,” and, forgetting his animosity to
wards his only living enemy, the good old
man asked his blessing, not as almost all
other intelligent Christians do, as if it
was a little stiff formula to be gotten over
with all possible dispatch, but as if he
really believed that the bread before him
should actually be eaten after a blessing
had been sent down on it.
“The Latin, father, is well enough in its
place, but my business must come first.
When you have heard its purport, I’m
sure you will agree with me.”
In her heart of hearts Charlie felt thar.k
ful for this timely business. She had
feared that Escotte’ might, in the fullness
of his satisfaction, tell some trying thing
concerning their present blissful but new
relation. Now, relieved of all this, she
ate her breakfast chatting gavly with
uncle Henry, and rather broadly’ignoring
■Entered according to act of Congress m the
TearlSß4byJ.il. Estill, in the office of the
Librarian of Congress at Waahingwn.
i his handsome son. But he onlv smiled at
! her and listened to her talk. She was a
j pretty new study, and he set himself with
! all diligence to find her out. Breakfast is
over at last, and, as they adjourn to the
j study, Mrs. Fearne very quietly asks:
“Am I to hear the important business,
my son ? or had I better retire to the sit
ting-room ?”
“Mother,” he said, a little strutfk with
her grave tone, “of course you must hear
it; andj Charlie, where in the world are
you going?”
“Only into* the garden, sir; you know I
hate business.”
He made no answer, but caught her hand
! and led her in, and she would have been
! a sort of female Samson to have thrown
■ oft'his strong, firm grasp. So, not particu
j larly caring, she went in and took the
• seat he offered by his side on the sofa.
‘‘Charlie, we will soon be through with
• this, and you and 1 will drive him out,
! lock the door and 6ee what Horace has to
say about it.”
i “Oh! yes, sir,” she answered, in all in
nocence.
i “Father,” his son began, rather grave
• ly, “you told to me a few days ago that
| it was not good lor man to live alone, and
; agreeing with you entirely, I am going to
be married. Sit still, Charlie; you know
j you cannot go if I choose to hold you.”
j' "God !>e thankt*d!” exclaimed the ex
j cited old man. “When, Escotte?”
| “Just as goon as it is practicable.”
“Who will be your wife, Escotte?”
! quietly asks the mother, a great light
I dawning on her perplexities,
j “Think of the loveliest woman you and
j my father know, and you can easily tell.”
j Hr. Fearne only looked happy and be
wildered. Mrs. Fearne looked at the girl
i at her son's side. She had made an effort
J to run away, but a strong hand had held
• her with resistless force, and a strong, pro
! tecting glance full of love and tenderness
1 had bade her rest content. She had sub
mitted, as he knew she would, and though
; her cheeks were scarlet, and though her
head was bowed, she sat motionless. She
bad found her master!
Without a word Mrs. Fearne got up
and put two arms around the girl’s
neck.
j ‘'Oh! Charlie! Charlie! is it you?” she
said, tearfully.
j “Certainly it is Charlie, and no other,”
her son said, laughing a little now. as he
coolly took her from his mother's arms
into his own. “I suppose father is disap
pointed as he says nothing.”
The happy shock was rather slow reach
ing Hr. Fearne's intelligence. Somehow
his thoughts had been too very far from
! such a happy consummation to be brought
back readily; but the strong evidence at
last left nothing to doubt. He was too
| much overcome to speak; only, with his
head slightly bowed, he walked softly up
| and down, up and down the small room;
then, without having given Charlie even
j so much as a look he turned full upon his
son, and said sternly;
“Are you good enough for her, sir? An
-1 swer me that; you know best.”
It was a firm and formidable question
from a stern father to a stern son, but it
was met with a quick answer and a full,
answering glance.
••I shall be faithful, father,” he said.
There was the periectguarantee of ful
fillment in the yqymg man’s eyes and
voice.
Grasping liis hand lus father said, with
a voice as clear as his son’s own:
"l believe you; I know you will!”
Then, with a smile sweet and tender
enough to be given to a prettv child; he
j said:
“Come with me, my daughter. I want
you by yourself a little while,” and led her
i oft' somewhere.
What he said on this happy morning to
; his darling was always held sacred be
tween them. Never in all the years that
come would Charlie rehearse it even to her
best and dearest.
I “Escotte,” said the mother, “don’t re
sent your lather’s taking your treasure
; from you now. Remember, she is
yours for life; his, perhaps, only for a
1 time.”
“I am naturally a little tried, mother,
; but truly, I like her to be with him even
, now.”
I “You look so happy; so radiant, my
l son.”
“Aye!” he said, “with a happiness
| that almost makes the heart afraid.”
At this moment a servant is announced
with a note from Mrs. Beltham, insisting
that her dear Charlie return immediately,
j as her stay had already seemed so long,
i etc., etc. .Mr. Fearne answered the note,
j saying that Charlie was particularly en
| gaged with his father now; but that he
would bring her a little later.
‘ As the servant retired his mother said:
"Mv son, he careful never to offend
Mrs. Beltham; she can and will do you
j and Charlie harm if she is crossed.”
lie only laughed.
j " ‘Shall I bend low, and in a bondsman's key.
With bated breath and whispering humble
ness say l ills,Y’
! Oh! no, mother; never fear. I shall
I checkmate this strong-willed woman
: yet.”
: The next two fall months with their
j glorious days, their brilliant skies, and
| their perfect weather proved the very hap
piest Charlie had ever known.
seemed to have waked suddenly
i from a careless girl to a loving and nb
i sorbed woman. She fancied that in all
j the world of romance there had never
been just such a lover as hers. And,
; perhaps, she was nearer right than are
most infatuated people. At the begin
ning Escotte had beeu far from satisfied
with her affection for himself. True, he
knew a small concession from her meany
more than more decided demonstrations
from another woman. Still her, as he
supposed, newly discovered fondness
might be simply" one of het sudden ca
prices, born of an impulse to live only as
her mood directed. This fear unsettled
and annoyed him, and wi|hout speaking
even to her of it, he set himself most earn
estly to win her heart. Once sure of that,
he knew her whole existence would he
bound up in him, and she would give such
love as she received in just such full and
ample measure and in just such strength.
Instead of annoying her with constant
visits, and constant expressions of ten
derness, he saw her as seldom as was con
sistent with his constant desire to be al
ways with her. Daily he denied his own
heart, and “starved” as he often thought
his own eyes that she might grow to value
him as he wished. But he showed himself
a most admirable tactician. Charlie had
thought at first that he would be ever at her
feet to be teased or caressed as suited her
girlish caprices, and right mischievously
she had laid her plans to that effect. It
would be such fun, she thought, to make
a willing slave of this potent, grave and
stern gentleman. But, verily, she had
reckoned without her host. Never did a
purpose prove more hopeless. Sometimes
after looking tor him for days in vain,
when at last she saw his handsome face
all coquetry vanished, and she took most
humbiy and gratefully his tender words,
thinking and dreaming over them until it
suited his lordly pleasure to speak again.
It anyone had foretold just such a wooing
for Charlie, she would have curled her
pretty lips in scorn.
“She to wait on any man's pleasure in
this style, to be visited, caressed and
loved only when it suited his mood or con
venience? not she!”
But, Charlie, like many older aud wiser
persons, did not know herself so well as
did the man whose happiness was all
bound up in her life. He was, in her in
terest, singularly wise. He had adopted
the very course to make himself absolute
ly necessary to her, and she grew almost
an idolater." She saw in him no likeness
to any of God’s creatures. He was one
alone; rare and beautiful and good;
unique in his individuality, a hero created
for her Jove. She believed no girl had
ever been so happy, so blest, and he, with
all his grave and premeditated forbear
ance, was every day more enslaved.
To be near her, to watch her love for
himself grow into greater strength and
beauty was ineffable happiness to him.
Charlie had begged and pleaded that
“grandmother” might not know of their
engagement at least until the new year,
aud Escotte had reluctantly consented;
so that, after eight weeks of their new life
together, this astute lady had not a sus
picion of the truth. She thought that
Charlie’s handsome cousin was beginning
to realize his obligation to be a little more
attentive to his father’s pet; that was all;
and Charlie enjoyed intensely a state of
things so comfortable and quiet.
Due cold day, toward the end ot De
cember, when the look and touch of winter
might l>e felt at last even in this Southern
clime, Charlie sat at the window looking
out. She had been all day restless and
tried, for this was the seventh day since
she had even seen Escotte, aud her heart
ached for the sight of his eyes, for the
sound ot his voice. It is true it had been
a week of storms and rain, but when did
be ever eare for bad weather? She had
seen him frequently walk off' in the midst
of a hard rain as contentedly as if a bril
liant sun shone overhead. In fact he
seemed to prefer having something ol this
kind to combat.
“Then why don’t he come? Oh! why?”
she sighed every two minutes.
Once again she walked across the long
room just to relieve her restlessness; but
she returned inevitably to the window.
Suddenly her cheeks flush, and her dark
THE SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MARCH 1), 1884.
eyes grow soft and tender. Somebody is
coming up the gravel path; somebody tall
and graceful and so handsome! He
: glances up at the window, and seeing
[ Charlie’s prettv face pressed against the
! window pane, iifts his hat and bows aud
j smiles.
“Nobody in all the world could bow and
smile just that way hut Escotte,” she
thinks," as she runs down to opeu the
door.
j The house is all closed and still,
i Grandmother is busy to-day in the base
ment, and Annie shut in her room writ
[ ing to Mr. Beltfiam. It is a charming
thing to have him come now.
So it was a happy face Escotte saw as he
entered. Somehow she thought he looked
grave, but he always did as to that; so
she led him into the warm sitting-room,
told him she was glad he had come at
last. He smiled at her a little thought
tully, but he only shut the door and drew
h“r close to him for a minute.
"Are you right glad to see me, my pret
ty child?” "•
‘‘Oh! yes. Think how long it has
been!”
“I’ve been busy, dear; sit here close bv
me; I’ve something to tell you.”
“Oh! Escotte, is it something that means
trouble of any sort!”
“Not exactly; you can remember, no
doubt, that night in father’s study when 1
first said that I loved you ?”
“Oh! yes.”
“Well, I only refer to it to-day to say
that, tenderly as l loved you then, you’ve
grown far deeper into my heart since;
every day, every hour, and it is so hard to
leave you.”
“You don’t mean that! You cannot
mean that!” she said, with fast-filling
eyes. “I canuot do without you; I
know I cannot. Say you were only jest
in", Escotte?”
“I rarely jest, Charlie; never about a
thing that brings distress to you. 1 must
go. I’ve been a week writing and tele
graphing trying to arrange to stay at
home, but it is all of little use. lam com
pelled to go. Do you think I’d leave you
one day if it could be helped?”
“Where are you going, Escotte?”
“To New Orleans.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, under her breath.
“For how long?”
■•About—two months. I hope to re
turn earlier, but we will call it that for
safety.”
“Why must you go?”
“Well, to look after some business. The
details wouldn’t interest you one mo
ment. My mother has some property
there and its safety is threatened. 1 can
arrange it all satisfactorily; no one else
can except my father, anti 1 cannot let
him go.”
“But, Escotte, what is money compared
to happiness? I’ve no doubt you’ve
enough without that; let it go, darling;
what does it matter, a little more or
less?”
Escotte laughed.
“I have often noticed,” he said, “your
utter ignorance and indifference about
money matters. Now money is not only
an essential; it is a good friend —a friend
that stands not only between a man and
want, but between his self-respect and
many possible humiliations. 1 must take
care that 1 have enough to make ray pret
ty young wife a home and keep her com
fortable in it.”
“1 only want you, dear; only you. I
don’t care where we live or how.”
“You are very sincere in that, I know,
but you are pitifully young, Charlie, and
for that reason your husband must be
strong and wise for your sake, it is hard
to go away from you; harder than 1 sup
posed even an hour ago it would be, but
there is no other way now. Run up
stairs aud get your hat; 1 promised mother
to bring you back with me. They have
not seen you in ages, they say.”
“Well; I will run down stairs first and
have my little skirmish with grand
mother.”
she ran off laughing, and soon returned
triumphantly.
“Grandmother was in a capital humor,
and graciously consented right away,”
she said.
This asking permission of Mrs. Bel
tham whenever Charlie wanted to move
an inch was getting rather irksome to her
grave lover. He treated her often as a
child, but he did it most tenderly from the
force of a great love and care for her.
From others he expected and longed lor
the power to exact the respect and defer
ence belonging by natural right to a full
grown intelligent woman.
“1 suppose,” he said, a little haughtily,
“this absolute submission to the powers
that be in your home is just now perhaps
wisest and best. A day will come soon, I
trust, when you will recognize no author
ity but mine to govern and control your
movements.”
“Will you be a governor, Escotte?” she
asked, a little mischievously.
“In mg own house, yes, verily!”
“I wonder if 1 am never to be a free
agent; then, I suppose, I am to go
out of grandmother’s leading strings into
yours.”
“Yes; and yet not into leading strings,
but into the most careful and tender con
trol; the bondage of being led bv a love
that, whilst it is somewhat exacting,
would go into danger and death for your
sweet sake.”
This was aaid demurely enough, and in
a low tone as they walked along the quiet
streets together, but Charlie, looking
shyly up, caught the glow of a pair of
dark eyes which sufficiently emphasized
the undertone. He was always the same
—always a little haughty and "self-assert
ing even with her, and yet she always
could tell by some sure and evident token
that he loved her in no common sort;
that, in his very heart of hearts, she had
found a place, and that, to leave it now,
would be not only the wreck of her hap
piness, but a sort of death blow to his.
Charlie often thought of her future life
spent by bis side, led by his hand, and
she knew intuitively that hers would be
the part of constant submission, but,
born-rebel as she was, the thought was
not unpleasing. He had in him no ele
ment ot tyranny, no caprice of discipline.
His would be a rule, firm, strong and un
selfish-carrying out always his own
wise purposes, but directing them towards
her best and happiest interests. A more
yielding lover, a man less firm and strong
would have found Charlie an exacting
and capricious mistress. For this man j
she was a lovely and constantly charm
ing woman. Bright, with all a girl’s
earliest enthusiasm, and yet submissive
and deferential with a sort of womanly
flattery, which was at once gratifying
and captivating. She knew herself to be
well loved, but she did not dream what a
vital part of his 1 iAg; and soul she had be
come. He wisely kept somewhat of her
power to hitnself.
“Your guardian has been here again 1
hear, Charlie. He did not stay long
enough for me to see him. What brings
him so constantly just now?”
“Oh! Escotte, don’t you know? Can’t
you guess?”
He looked down at her flushed face
with a painful suspicion at his heart.
“Of course 1 cannot. Tell me if you
can.”
“I am half ashamed to tell you that he
is engaged to marry my stepmother.”
Mr. Fearne looked sufficiently shocked.
“Has he loved her always that he is in
such haste to tell her so now?”
“1 don’t fhiuk he loves her in the least,
but poor mamma has loved him always.”
“What does that mean, Charlie?” was
asked, a little sternly.
She answered quickly, most anxious to
defend her father’s wife.
“You know. Escotte, they were brought
up together like brother, and sister, and ;
were once engaged to be married. Grand
mother broke it off and Annie married my
father.”
Mr. Fearne’s ahem was sufficiently
expressive. Charlie felt that she was
not yet understood, and went on eagerly:
“You don’t know mamma, Escotte. She
is not quick and intelligent as many wo
men are; but she is really as sweet and
good as she can be. She didn’t pretend to
be what is called in love with papa, but
she was devoted to him, just as patient
and kind as she knew how to be, and he I
was satisfied with her always, always. I
She used to tell him and me too how good j
aud kind a brother he was and how she
loved him. She didn’t know, didn’t seem
to know what I saw so easily, that she
idolized him.
“Did your father know or suspect j
this?”
“Ah! that is the saddest part of the j
whole matter. Papa used to encourage
it without knowing what he was doing. I !
have heard him tell her that she couldn’t j
value Mr. Beltham’s kindness too highly. ;
Papa liked and admired him too. With I
all his knowledge of the world and of |
men he never knew Albert Beltham one ,
moment.”
Mr. Fearne looked off at the street and
passers-by with what assumption of in- !
difference" he could and asked another
question: j
“You think he is not particularly fond
of Mrs. Barrett?”
“Fond of her? in one way, yes. He treats
her and loves her, I think, as a man might
a sweet and gentle sister for whose intel
lectual capacity he has a contempt, but
he certainly does not love her as—as I
would want to be loved.”
The first estimate Escotte had formed
of Mr. Beltham was last reaching con-
firraation. He had doubted him from the
first-—doubted the existence in his confor
mation of those especial essentials that
true gentlemen, judging from his own
high standard, like and require. He
could easily understand his proposed
marriage with Judge Barrett’s comforta
ble widow; but Charlie’s reiterated and
confident assertion that he did not love
her stepmother, suggested a thought that
he might love his darling. Looking at
her f as she walked by his side in her fresh
young loveliness, he thought it r.ot only
possible but startlingly natural and
inevitable. Still, to speak of it might
suggest anew cause of disquiet to her,
aud then, it he preferred Charlie, why,
worldly wise as he must be, did he not
take advantage ol his favorable position
to press his suit? Something in the man’s
startled look when he had announced his
intention to stay at home he recalled now,
but his anxiety was so vague aud ground
less, he put it away Irom him as quickly
as possible and asked:
“When are they to be married?"
“In February, I think. It sounds hard,
doesn’t it? But some ladies were at our
house a few days ago, and though grand
mother did not say so in so many words,
she hinted very strongly that papa had re
quested her son to marry his young wife.
I can hardly believe it, but I know papa
was strongly infatuate(twith Mr. Albert
Beltham.”
“Well, I suppose neither you nor I have
any jurisdiction in this matter. 1 shall
take you out of reach of such influences
as early as possible. 1 shall divorce you
effectually irom grandmothers, step
mothers and guardians; so their affairs
have no especial interest for you. Here
is the gate at last, and there is my lather
waiting for you. ltun in aud take him
back to the fire with you.”
[TO BE CONTINUED.I
The Sleepless Dog.
Bill Nye.
If there be one thing above another that
I revel in it is seieucer. I have devoted
much of my life to scientific research,
and though it hasn’t made much stir in
tne scientific world so far, I am positive
that when I am gone the scientists of our
day will come and shed the scalding tear
over my humble tomb.
My attention was first attracted to in
somnia as the foe of the domestic animal,
by the strange appearance of a favorite
dog named Lucretia Borgia. 1 did not
name this animal Lucretia Borgia. He
was named when I purchased him. In
his eccentric and abnormal thirst for
blood he favored Lucretia, but in sex he
did not. I got him partly because he
loved children. The owner said Lucretia
Borgia was an ardent lover of children,
and 1 found that he was. lie seemed to
love them best in the spring of the year,
when they were tender. He would have
eaten up a favorite child ot mine if the
youngster hadn’t left a rubber ball in
his pocket which clogged the glottis
ot Lucretia till I could get there and dis
engage what was left of the child.
Lucretia soon after this began to be
restless. He would come to my casement
and lift up his voice and howl into the
bosom of the silent night. At first 1
thought he had found someone in distress
or wanted to get me out ol doors and save
my life. 1 went out several nights in a
weird costume that 1 had made up of gar
ments belonging to different members of
my family. I dressed carefully in the
the dark and stole out to kill the assassin
referred to by Lucretia, but lie was not
there. Then the faithful animal would
run up to me, and v. ith almost human,
pleading eyes, bark and run away toward
a distant ally. 1 immediately decided
that someone was suffering there. I had
read in books about dogs that led their
masters away to the suffering and saved
people’s lives, so when Lucretia came to
me with his great, honest eves and took
little mementoes out of the calf of my
leg and then galloped off' seven or eight
blocks, 1 followed him in the chill air of
night aud my mosaic clothes. I wander
ed away to where the dog stopped behind
a livery stable, and there, lying in a shud
dering heap on the frosty ground, lay the
still, white features of a soup bone that
hud outlived its usefulness.
On the way back I met a physician who
had been uptown to swear in an American
citizen who would vote twenty-one years
later if he lived. The physician stoppod
me and was going to take me to the Home
of the Friendless when he discovered who
1 was. •
You wrap a tall man with a W r m. 11.
Seward nose in a flannel robe, out plain,
and then put on a plug hat and a sealskin
sacque and Artie overshoes on him and
put him out in the street, under tue gas
light, with his trim, purple ankles just
revealing themselves as he madly gal
lops after a hydrophobia-infested dog,
and it is not, after all, surprising that
people’s curiosity should bit be a' little
excited.
After 1 had introduced myself to the
physician and asked him for a cigar, ex
plaining that I could not find any in the
clothes I had on, I asked him about
Lucretia Borgia. I told the doctor how
Lucretia seejned .restless nisrhto and
nervtnis ana irritable days, and how he
seemed to be almost a mental wreck,
and asked him what the trouble w as.
lie said it was undoubtedly “insomnia.”
He said that it was a bad case of it, too.
I told him I thought so myself. 1 said I
didn’t mind the insomnia that Lucretia
had so much as I did my own. I was
getting more insomnia on my hand that I
could use.
He gave me something to administer to
Lucretia. He said 1 must put it in a link
of sausage and leave the sausage where
it would appear that 1 didn’t want the
dog to get it and then Lucretia would eat
it greedily.
1 did so. It worked well so far as the
administration of the remedy was con
cerned, but it was fatal to my little high
6trung, yearnful dog. It must have con
tained something of a deleterious charac
ter, for the next morning a coarse man
took Lucretia Borgia by the tail and laid
him where the violets blow. Malignant
insomnia is fast becoming the great foe to
the modern American dog.
Home View of Mr. John Roach.
Delaware County (Pa.) Record.
One of the greatest fallacies which ever
afflicted a free people is that certain indi
viduals endowed with less conscience and
more cheek than the average of mankind
possess some special claim upon the
United States Government. Of this ge
nus John Roach is a shining example.
He is forever posing as the dear working
man’s friend, and, by virtue ol this spe
cious scheme, contriving to hoodwink
and deceive the people, and especially the
governing powers at Washington. Asa
lobbyist, he is a very prince, spending his
money with lavish profusion—where it
will do the most good. He is great on big
dinners and the potency of flowing wine,
during the intervals of which he holds su
preme sway as the dear workingman’s
friend, But this dining and wining of
Congressmen doesn’t help the material
advancement of his own work-people in
the Chester shipyards, for it is a notorious
fact that whilst he is entertaining the
Washington nabobs with princely gene
rosity. and can contribute thousands of
dollars to campaign committees who fa
vor legislative subsidizing, his own work
men are among the poorest paid of their
class. This fact is patent to all who will
take the pains to compare a list of the
prices paid for the different grades of
skilled labor at his yard at Chester with
those paid by the Messrs. Cramp, Neatie
<fc Levy and other Arms in New York.
Further, he rarely builds an iron-plated
vessel of any size but he crosses the At
lantic and patronizes the Clyde shipyards
for armor plates and even engines, re
gardless of anybody’s interests but clear
Johnny Roach’s. This humbuggery has
been borne long enough, and it is about
time the dear people waked up to a com
prehension of the fact that this class of
humanitarians has filched enough from
the public coffers.
The Best Pistol Shot in New York,
Sew York World.
I went a few nights ago with three or
four friends to see Frank Lord fire a pis
tol. Francis, 1 regret to say, had a good
deal more of a load than there was in his
pistol, but the way that young man can
shoot,* in any condition of spirituous ex
hilaration, is most amazing! When we
went into the shooting gallery young Mr.
Lord couldn’t talk straight; but a playing
card was stood up edgewise on the target
and he began his operations. He could no
more see the card than he could have seen
the point of a needle at the same distance.
The only way in which he could by any
possibility have known where it stood was
by watching the delicate shadows sent
out on each side by the slender paste
board. He sent two bullets at it before
he hit, but each ol them landed within a
twentieth of an inch of the mark. Then
Mr. Lord bet a bottle of champagne with
Mr. McKee liankin on the next shot. That
time he cut the card in two as clean as a
whip. From this point out Mr. Lord’s
shooting wa6 wonderful. He couldn’t
stand without a slightly waving motion,
but be shot the heads from postage
stamps, hit small objects moving through
the air and accomplished other wonderful
things. Frank Lord’s pistol shooting is
quite up to Dr. Carver’s rifle shooting.
THE FIELD, FARM AND GARDEN.
We solicit articles for this department.
The name of the writer should accompany
the letter or article, not necessarily
for publication, but as evidence of good
tilth.
A Fortune iu Poultry.
In December last I constructed two
very crude hatchers, designed from some
good points of several others I had seen.
I filled them with eggs and they worked
fairly well. 1 kept them going from De
cember Ito July 1, clearing in that time
over $l5O over and above every thing, and
that, too, in spite of the high price of feed
and the fact that I sold my chickens at
low market prices. The highest I got for
them was $6 and the lowest $3 35. During
that time 1 attended to my regular busi
ness without let or hindrance. Believing
this to lie a good return for this amount ol
work, I began to look around for a more
perfect hatcher, and my attention was di
rected to the C. S. Incubator. In June I
procured instructions from J. M. Bain,
New Concord, O. He is Secretary of the
N. A. Poultry Association and "he will
send directions for making this hatcher to
any one sending Tiim three 2-cent stamps
to prepay postage. I made one that held
250 eggs, and my success with it was all
that 1 could wish for. 1 then had four
more made and I have just taken out ot
these five hatchers 1,030 fine chickens out
of a little less than 1,200 eggs. I believe
I am placing it modestly when I say that
1 expect to clear $2,500 by July next, be
sides attend to my regular business.
There is no business as profitable as this
is, and there is no business that requires
so small an amount of capital to start on.
There is no necessity of men trying to
hide their business any more thau that of
raising wheat and cattle. “The field Is
the world,” and the world, like Oliver
Twist, is crying out for more. Poultry is
getting higher every year. There "are
thousands of young men iu this country
who are teachers, clerks in stores and va
rious other avocations, who look forward
to the time when they can get a start in
some good business." The way is now
opened to them all if they will only profit
by it. Then there are young women who
are dependent on some father or brother,
who in one year could place themselves
high above any dependence if they only
would. Do not wait until spring comes,
but get your directions and make your
hatehersnow. Try them once or twice so
as to become familiaijwith them and then
you will be ready to start spring trade.
1 Will.
Toosinte or Hiiftalo Grass.
Among the many desirable forage plants
for Southern latitudes this is one yet to be
tested by the majority of Southern farm
ers. Rome few have given it a trial in the
past three or four years, but very little
has been said about it in the agricultural
papers. As the Georgia Commissioner of
Agriculture is making a distribution of
the seeds this year for trial, it is probable
that we will have a number of observa
tions on the plant before the close of the
year. From two trials of teosinte in 1878
and 187 b l was very much pleased with it
aud predicted that when it became gene
rally known it would be chosen by many
farmers as one of the most desirable for
age plants that they could find. While
our summers are not long enough to allow
of its maturing seed, this need" not stand
as an objection to it as a fodder plant. In
fact, this may be an advantage rather
than an objection, for it may obviate the
necessity of cutting it at any particular
time before it had seeded and the stalk
become in any way hard and tough. It
would have to be cut before frost touched
it, however, for It is susceptible to frost
just like Indian corn, which it resembles
somewhat. The seeds are of a gray color
and nearly triangular in shape, with about
as much surface as a small grain of corn.
It is planted about the same time, with
corn a little later if anything. Rows
should be about 4 feet apart and 3or 4
seed planted in hills 3 to 4 feet apart in
the row. On very rich land, at a distance
of 4x4 feet, it would make a wonderful re
turn in forage if well cultivated. It tillers
or suckers to an extent surpassed by no
other plant. On such land, if the teosinte
is planted in April and not cut until Oc
tober, an acre would yield more forage
than a small farmer could cure easily. I
observed one plant that had 84 stalks, and
many of them over 9 feet high, and it gave
one cow abundant food for one day. The
stalk is quite sweet and lender even in an
advanced stage, altogether unlike “Millo
Maize,” African wheat and the like. A
couple of quarts of seed would more than
plant an acre in hills 4x4.
S. A. C.
Midway, near Milledyevilte, Ga., Mar. 7.
Concord Grape Vines.
In the Weekly News of March 1,
Judge Samuel Miller, of Bluffton, gives a
raiim/lv for rat Cnnnnnl trrunac which
may be a success; but it i9 the first time
the writer ever heard of Concords being
subject to any disease. This grape is con
sidered the hardiest vine,most rapid grower
and prolific bearer we have, and in its
proper sphere, say from New England to
the Piedmont country of the Carolines,
and following the hill country to Arkan
sas and Missouri, it has no equal as a
healthy vine. It is not regarded as first
class, either as a table or wine grape, vet
it is a favorite because of its great suc
cess in the region of country indicated.
All vines, to he healthy, must have a
well-drained soil, and the latter must
contain every ingredient of plant food in
abundance. A mixture, or compound, of
superphosphate of lime 90 pounds, kainit
90 pounds, and sulphate of ammonia 20
pounds, is a complete manure for them.
The ground should have a good natural
drainage, which is all that is required in
the Southern country, but if planted in a
cold, wet soil, it absolutely requires un
derdraining for success. Vines should
be trimmed during the winter when ac
tive growth has ceased, and should not be
pruned during the growing season or
pinched back, as is almost universally
recommended, because such a method is
injurious to the entire plant. It is almost
impossible to eradicate sprouts from cul
tivated laud by cutting them down in the
early spring or late In the fall or winter,
but is easily done by cutting them during
the summer, when they are iu strong
growth and covered with leaves. The
principle applies as well to grapevines.
This, of course, has no reference to nip
ping off surplus fruitage. Climate has
much to do with the success of certain
varieties. For instance, the Isabella,
which was originated in South Carolina,
is a failure there, the fruit all rotting, but
this grape is eminently successful about
Lake Superior, in a colder climate.
Tak Heel.
North Carolina, 1884.
Oats vs. Cotton.
As the rust-proof red oat is assuming an
importance as a moneyed crop in the
Southern markets, second only to cotton,
and as it was iti Abbeville county they
were first introduced, ancl in the Ninety
six belt the first experiment made in fall
seeding among the standing cotton, it may
not be uninteresting to the readers of the
Spartan to know something of the origin
ami progress of this hardy cereal which,
in a few short years, has added so much
to the prosperity of the country, and
which seems, at no distant day. to revolu
tionize the whole system of agriculture in
the South.
About twenty-four years ago a dis
charged Federal soldier stopped at the
house of a farmer in the State ol Georgia,
sick and travel-worn, and begged to be
allowed to rest for a few days. Upon
leaving he took from his vest pocket a
package of oats, which he divided with
his kind host, stating that he obtained
them on the Mexican frontier, where his
command had been stationed. A few
years later a gentleman from that section
of Georgia presented Capt. Kay, an en
terprising citizen of that State, now de
ceased, with a small quantity ot the seed.
From this small beginning Capt. Ray ac
cumulated a small stock, which he first
sold at $lO, and then at $5 per bushel. In
1864 the writer obtained a bushel and
sowed in the spring, as was the custom ol
the country.
The year 1866 being very dry, in order
to supplement the corn crop, I sowed, in
September, seventeen acres of old land,
then in cotton, at the rate of three pecks
per acre, and covered them by running a
cultivator once between the rows. Upon
this and other grain in the same field,
sixty head of sheep were pastured during
the entire winter. In 1867 I harvested
from the seventeen acres 560 bushels,
weighing 43 pounds to the measured bush
el. The result of this experiment soon
became known, and the plan of fall seed
in'.', with various changes and improve
ments in the mode of putting them in,
was universally adopted. All the seed 1
could spare were soon taken at $1 50 per
bushel, and in 1868 perhaps not as much
as 500 bushels were shipped from our de
pot ; since that time shipments have yearly
increased, ranging from 5,000 to 2,000; the
present running up to about 75,000 bushels
up to date—Spartanburg Spartan.
Quince Culture.
The quince is a gross feeder, as is indi
cated by the multitude of its fibrous roots
interlacing and grasping everv portion ol
the soil in its vicinity. It delights in hol-
I9WB that have received the wash of fer
tilizing matters from higher grounds, na
ture’s pockets, that have been storing up
fertility for ages; and from this fact came
the mistaken idea that the quince should
be set in low, wet places, and it is often
planted where water stands the greater
part of the year. In such situations in
fruit tree will continue to thrive. I have
had as good success with quinces, set on
upland that is quite dry, but in good con
dition of tillage and fertility, as with those
set in moist, heavy soil, each receiving the
same treatment. This fact has caused
remark from many visitors. The injury
done the quince bv over-fertilizing is
greater than is liable to occur to almost
any other fruit tree, as in very rich soil,
or when abundantly supplied with stimu
lating manures, its growth is excessive,
to the exclusion of fruit-spurs, and the
rank succulent growth continuing until
the approach of winter must receive in
jury from treezing, producing blight the
ensuing season.
In rich soils cultivation should cease
after July, and any shoots of excessive
growth should be pinched. A moderate
quantity of fertilizer, annually supplied
to soil of fair condition, is ail that is re
quired. Leaf mold, muck, sods, mud
from ponds, form a safe and lasting dress
ing for the quince. It need not necessa
rily be incorporated with the soil, for
when placed about the stems, new roots
will be sent out to forage throughout the
mass. An orchard so treated will long
continue in health and productiveness.
When propagated by cuttings, strong
shoots of the current year’s growth are
cut in the fall to one foot in length, having j
a bud close to the base, and the whole j
space between buds left on above the top 1
bud. Bury in bundles below frost, and in
early spring plant in trenches in rich, j
moist soil, sticking the cuttings at a slant i
of from 15 to GO degrees, so that the top !
bud will be even with the surface ot the I
soil; stamp firm at the base and cover '
with one inch of sawdust or other light
material as a mulch.—JVctc York Tribune, j
Potato Soils.
It may be accepted as a fact that soil
supposed to be benefited by fall plowing
to prepare it for a potato crop is just the
soil not to plant potatoes in. 111 the first
place, not one winter in live will so carry
plowed soil but what replowing will be re
quired in the spring. Soil for potatoes needs
to be worked very fine and at least six inch
es in depth, which cannot be done by fall
plowing alone. If the soil is cloddy, so
that freezing and thawing are required to
pulverize it, it will be too cold to profita
bly grow potatoes upon. Soil never works
down as fine and nice as when dragged
and fitted behind the plow. Potato land
should never he allowed to crust over be
fore the plants are up. Run a harrow over
the field frequently before and after the
potatoes are up. It is a good way to plant
as fast as the land is fitted and marked,
and thus avoid covering the seed with dry
soil. The frequent stirring and fining of
the soil is of great benefit, and the more
frequent the better, provided it is done
very shallow. By planting deep, say live
inches, there is no necessity for “hills.”
The cultivator will push up quite enough
dirt. In cultivating and hoeing do not
dig all of the soil up and off the centre of
the rows down to hard pan, but keep the
tine soil deep and loose between the hills.
If the soil is all scraped away the subsoil
draws the heat of the sun, "which dries
out the moisture, even. under the hills and
among the roots. If the tine soil is main
tained between the hills, there will be a
greater expansion of root growth, largely
occupying the surface and drawing plant
food therefrom, instead of getting all their
nourishment from the narrow compass of
the hill, and the more plant food the roots
gather the better the crop will be. IVhen
these roots have once filled the surface
soil they should not be broken off' by deep
culture, for they do not possess the same
power to put forth branch growth that
corn does, and it is a doubtful question if
beneficial results arise from fooling with
corn roots. If possible plant potatoes on
clover sod land, and do not plant more
than two consecutive years upon the same
land.— Pennsylvania Farmer.
Farm and Stock Notes.
Minnesota’s butter production for 1883
will nearly reach 18,000,000 pounds, worth
$5,300,000.
Every successful farmer should keep a
system of accounts as a matter of' econo
my, profit and of record as well.
The Sorghum Sugar Company, at Ster
ling, Kan., purposes showing its faith in
this new industry by risking an additional
SIOO,OOO on its works.
Tbe latest remedy for mg cabbage pest
is smart weed (pepper weed ), ~kioh
thqroughly dried, ground to powder and
sprinkled over the plants.
California farmers raise G 2 bushels of
sunflower seed to the acre, and after
grinding a gallon of oil from each bushel
Reu tntTremse to cuickcus and cows.
Thirty thousand dozen eggs were re
cently receiv >d by a single steamer in
New York. They came from Germany,
aud many of them were limed by a supe
rior German process.
Mr. Madden, of I’ike county, Georgia,
owns the largest grape vine in the United
States, which is eighteen years old, a quar
ter of a mile long, and thirtv-four inches
in circumference at its base and bears five
wagon loads of fruit.
Hickory and cherry require a growth of
thirty years before they are valuable for
timber, maple twenty years, and beeches
fifteen years. Black walnut, however,
will produce a trunk fourteen inches in
diameter iu as many years from the seed.
Profitableness of making sugar from
sorghum depends largely on utilizing all
waste products. The scums and sedi
ments make manure hardly inferior to
guano, while the begasse can be turned
into manure by being thrown into the
hog-pens.
A New Jersey farmer writes to the Nesv
York Herald that he gave a dressing of
salt (eight bushels to the acre) to land
badly infested with white grubs, and for
three years alter raised good crops of corn,
which was impossible previous to this ap
plication.
Very early turnips can be raised on new
land or well-broken clover sod. They are
easily sent to market and bring a good
price. The crop can be got rid of in time
for late potatoes. A little super-phosphate
will persuade the turnips to be crisp and
get out of the way quickly and do no harm
to the potatoes.
One of the best tonics for poultry is that
known as the Douglas mixture, composed
of one ounce sulphuric acid, one pound
copperas and eight quarts of water. Tut
a tablespoonful of the solution in a six
quart drinking vessel. It invigorates
poultry, reddens the combs and assists to
ward off disease.
Ground cannot well be made too rich for
currants and gooseberries. Plant in rows
four feet apart and three feet apart in the
rows; give thorough culture or deep mulch
over the entire surface, cut out all wood
of three years growth (or alter first crop
is often considered better), and a good
crop is almost certain.
By the ‘•intensive” system of farming
the soil is regarded as a mere support to
the plants and receptacle for fertilizers.
Under the “extensive” system a reliance
is placed exclusively on the natural fer
tility of the soil and the slow process by
which the plant food already contained is
made available to erops.
A writer, after making careful esti
mates of the damage done by dogs in the
Northern States alone, finds that it costs
not less than $33,000,000 annually to sup
port our dogs, a sum that would buy
165,000 farms at government prices for
land, or it would purchase 132,000 neigh
borhood libraries of 200 volumes each.
An Indianapolis (Ind.) fruit grower
says: “Last year I put twelve moles in
my strawberry patch of five acres to catch
the grubs, and they did the work. I never
had a dozen plants Injured during the
summer, either by the grubs or moles. I
know some people do not care for moles
on their farms, but I want them in my
strawberry patch.
The Hon. C. M. Clay says that the Jer
seys are the native cattle of Russia and
he could load a fleet with them at from $3
to $lO per head. If this is true there is no
use in the farmers of the Channel Islands
allowing the supply to fall oil. It is more
than probable if we should import directly
from Russia a little careful judgment
would give us a stock of Jerseys that
would be hardy, vigorous and able to “hoe
their own row.”
The Ayrshire is a particularly heavy,
long milker, usually giving five times her
weight of milk in a season. The milk is
somewhat low in specific gravity and per
cent, of cream, but is over the average of
cheese production. Such is the result of
experiments at the Canadian Agricultu
ral College; but the Ayrshire, like other
breeds, shows exceptional cases of a large
percentage of cream, and the feed often
has an influence on the composition of the
milk.
The special foods to cause hens to lay
are secret preparations; but the following
is considered a good formula; Two pounds
each of bone, linseed cake, dried meat,
oats and oyster shells, all finely ground,
one ounce sulphur, two ounces red pep
per, four ounces of common salt and cop
peras, and one ounce of bread soda. Mix
the whole thoroughly and allow a table
spoonful three times a week to each fowl.
As the cost of these substances will be
but little, quite a large quantity can be
made at one time.
A series of experiments, instituted to
test the average loss in weight by drying,
show that corn loses one-flith and wheat
one-fourteenth by the process. From this
statement it appears that farmers will
make more by selling unshelled corn in
the fall at 75 cents than the following
summer al $1 a bushel, and that wheat at
$1 32 in December is equal to $1 50 for the
same wheat in June following. This es
timate is made on the basis of interest at
7 per cent., aud takes no account of loss
from vermin. These facts are note
worthy.
According to the New York Times, Pro
fessor Wiley, of the Agricultural Depart
ment, in a forthcoming report, will make
public some interesting information about
the experiments with sorghum during the
last year. He pronounces erroneous the
prevalent impression that every farmer
may become his own sugar-maker. Sor
ghum, unlike sugar beet, contains various
non-crvstallizable sugars, the separation
ol which demauds skill. He suggests that
farmers unite and operate together in faa
tories, raise their own cans and trade it
for sugar at such factories, as is now done
at cheese-making.
Luminous plants have a peculiar charm
to the grower and observer. One of the
best is Fraxinella, or gas plant. It is an
old favtrite, perfectly hardy, a perennial
of the very easiest culture, and should 1 e
in every garden. In the calm summer
evenings, when in bloom, a light applied
to the base of the stock will envelope the
whole plant in flame. This can be re
peated time and time again, and it ap
pears with benefit to the ripcnDig seed.
This property was discovered by the
daughter of Linnaeus. The flowers are
white or red, and are very fine.
Growing sorghum for svrup and for
feeding is two different objects, and the
methods of cultivation are not alike. The
object in sowing it thickly in the rows is
to make the plants as numerous as the
condition of the soil will allow, as tae
finer the stalks the more acceptable to the
stock; hut it is best, however, to allow
the crop to approach maturity, even send
ing out the shoots for th - seed heads, but
the crop should be cut before the seeds
leave the milky state. Thus grown and
harvested there can be no part of it re
fused or rejected.— Farmers' Gazette.
The Germantown Telegraph thus in
forms its readers how to grow onions
“without labor;” “Prepare a bed, say 16
feet square, of proper fertility, cultivate
deep and rake it smooth and fine. Now,
lay on a board about one foot wide at one
side of your bed, stand on the board and
place your sets close to the edge, Bay four
inches apart, the entire length of the
board. Now, lay down another board one
and a half inches from the other, place
your sets as before, and proceed thus until
the bed is completed. Leave on the boards
till the onions have matured. Thu 9 you
will have a nice bed of onions without la
bor, save the preparing of the bed and
placing of the sets.”
HOUSEHOLD NOTES.
A very simple and effective cure for
cinders in the eye is simply one or two
grains of flaxseed. These may be placed
in the eye without injury or pain to that
delicate organ, and shortly they begin to
swell and dissolve a glutinous substance
that covers the ball of the eye, enveloping
any foreign substance that may be in it.
The irritation of cutting the membrane is
thus prevented, and the annoyance may
soon be washed out.
Steak and Onions.— lf you wish to
improve upon the usual method of smoth
ering beefsteak with onions, try this: Cut
one quart of onions iu very small bits, not
over an inch long, and as thin as a sharp
knife will cut them. Let them lie in cold
water, with a good sprinkling of salt in
it, for half an hour. Drain them well and
fry them in a deep frying-pan, with a good
deal of very hot lard iu it. They will cook
immediately, and be crisp aud most ex
cellent.
Crumb Griddle Cakes. —Two cups
sour milk, or buttermilk, two cups stale
breadcrumbs, one-half cup sifted Graham
flour, one egg, well beaten, one teaspoon
ful soda, dissolved in boiling water. Soak
the crumbs in the milk till soft, then work
till smooth, and add enough flour to bind
the mixture together; stir in the beaten
egg and dissolved soda; beat very hard
and bake to a good brown; the griddle
should be well oiled. If preferred, use
part sour cream and leave out the egg.
. l' o rn Muffins.—Two
full cups of cornraeui, r . "
flour, one cup sweet milk, two cup“““™
ing water, one egg. Pour the boiling
water into the meal and stir well. Let
the mixture stand till lukewarm. Then
add the cup of milk, or enough to form a
batter about as stiff as will dmr outn tne
spoon, and beat w°u. oet this in a warm
dloo nours; then break iu the egg
and beat hard. Sift into hot gem-pans,
well oiled, and bake twenty minutes in a
brisk oven.
Kentucky Corn Cake.— Take, say
two cups of cornmeal and half scald by
stirring into it a cup of boiling water;
then add cold water or cold sweet milk,
to form a batter as stiff' as can be stirred
with a spoon; beat very thoroughly.
Spread it two-thirds of an inch thick on
an oiled griddle and bake ten to fifteen
minutes, or till the bottom is well browned;
then remove the griddle from the top of
the stove, place it in a moderate oven, on
the topmost grate, aud let it bake from
thirty to forty minutes; longer, if mixed
with water. If more convenient, you may
dispense with the griddle and pour the
batter into a bread-pan.
BITS OF SCIENCE.
Preparations are already in progress for
the meeting of the International Polar
Commission members, which is to as
semble in Vienna oil an early day next
May,
It is not generally known, but it ap
pears to be true, that the sweet spirits of
nitre when kept for a long while is con
verted from a harmless remedy into a
deadly poison. Druggists should print
on their labels “use only when newly
made.”
Six full cargoes of jute were discharged
at Bremen. Germany, during the first nine
months of 1883. Four of these were im
ported from Calcutta by one large Ger
man establishment. The total quantity
of jute thus received wag about 00,000
bales, worth about $875,000.
An Englishman has invented a small
incandescent lamp for philosophical pur
poses. The electrodes are zinc and car
bon, and the fluid a solution of bichro
mate of potash. The cells are stated to
remain active for more than thirty hours,
and the expense of flesh fluid is said to
lie about 3 pejjce.
Messrs, li unsay and Young find that
the decomposition of ammonia by heat
commences at about 500 degrees, and that
it is nearly equal in extent with porce
lain, glass, iron and asbestos, but at 700
degrees ammonia is almost completely
decomposed by passing through an iron
tut>e. Copper, when heated, is not so ac
tive.
The Glasgow Medical Journal describes
au electro-magnet having a power to raise
upon its point a weight equal to six
ounces. It. has been used successfully in
cases where workmen in iron and steel
have been severely wounded bv living
chips, and the writer says that such in
struments must henceforth become an es
sential part of the apparatus of ophthal
mic surgeons.
In a large Berlin establishment for the
manufacture ot wooden penholders a tire
lately occurred in oneof the drying rooms.
These rooms are heated with steam pities,
capped with an alloy which melts at a
low temperature. The tire was not dis
covered until the noise of escaping steam
attracted attention, when it was found to
be [already extinguished, though having
done considerable damage to the stock.
It is now proposed to construct car
axles w ith the journal flattened on one
side, with separable bushings correspond
ingly flattened, so that on the latter be
coming worn they may lie readily re
moved and replaced by new ones. The
bushings are prevented ’from turning on
the axle by their flattened surface, and are
held upon the journals of the axle longi
tudinally by screws passing through the
bushings and the journals.
Dr. Abbott writes in Science that he
once found a full-grown chipmunk in the
stomach of a bullfrog; in another of the
same species (liana Calexbyana)\iz found
an eighteen-inch garter snake which had
been swallowed by the frog while the
snake was in the "act of swallowing a
mouse. The snake could not defend itself
while it had a mouse in its gullet, and the
frog took advantage ot the fact. Of
course, no one will find the story difficult
to swallow.
lottmeo.
£W CAPITAL PRIZE, *75,000
Tickets only *5. Shares in proportion.
L.SL
LOUISIANA STATE LOTTERY CO.
“We do hereby certify that we tuie-rvim the
arrangements for all the Monthly mid Semi-
Annual Drawings ef the Louisiana Start Lottery
Company, and in person man,ige an./ centres
•the Drawings themselves, and that the time art
conducted with honesty, fairness, at. •-/ in good
fiiith toscard all parties, and we authorize the
Comjxmy to use this certificate. with fa--similes
of our signatures attached, in ite a-lrertier
merits."
COMMISSIOVERB.
Incorporated In 1868 for 25 years by ihc Leg
islature for educational and charitable pur
poses—with a capital of $1,000,000 to which a
reserve fund of over $550,000 has since been
added.
By an overwhelming popular vote its fran
chise was made a part of the present State
Constitution. adoDted December 2, A. r>. 1479.
The only Lottery ever voted on and in
dorsed by the people of any State.
It nerer scales or postpones.
Its Grand Single Number Drawings tate
place monthly.
A SPLENDID OPPORTUNITY To IVIN A
FORTUNE.—Third Grand Drawing, < 'lass O,
in the ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW OR
LEANS. TUESDAY. MARCH 11. IKS4—’With
Monthly Drawing.
CAPITAL PRIZE 75, 000.
100,000 Tickets at Five Dollars Each. Frac
tions in Fifths in proportion
LIST OF PRIZES.
1 Capital Prize $75,000
1 Capital Prize 25,00a
1 Cajiital Prize 10,000
2 Prizes of *6,000 12,000
5 Prizes of 2,000 10,000
10 Prizes of 1,000 10,000
20 Prizes of 500 10,000
100 Prizes of 200 20,000
300 Prizes of 100 30,000
500 Prizes of 50 25,000
1,000 Prizes of 25 25,000
APPROXIMATION prizes.
9 Approximation Prizes of $750 $6,750
9 Approximation Prizes of 500 4,500
9 Approximation Prizes of 250.. 2.250
1,967 Prizes, amounting to $205,500
Application for rates to clubs should he made
only to the office of the Company m New
Orleans.
For further information write clearly, giv
ing full address. Make P. o. Monev Orders
payable and address Registered Lcthrs to
NEW ORLEANS NATIONAL RANK.
New Orleans, La.
POSTAL NOTES anil ordinary letters bv
Mail or Express (all sums of $5 and upwards
by Express at our expense) to
M. A. DAUPHIN.
New Orleans, La.,
Or M. A. DAUPHIN,
607 Seventh street. Washington, i). C.,
Or JNO. B. FERNANDEZ,
Savannah. Ga.
HeNR Y Coll^
[ LOTTERY:
$710,000 for $2.
a L Regular Monthly Draw lug will
/IIS take place in Covington Ky., *
THURSDAY, MARCH 27TH, 1884.
A Lawful Lottery and Fair Drawings,
chartered by the Legislature ol Kentucky and
twice declared legal by the highest Court in
the State. Bond given to Henry county in the
sum of SiOO,OOO for the prompt payment ot all
prizes told.
March Scheme.
1 Prize , $ 30,000
1 Prize 10.000
1 Prize 5,000
2 Prizes, $2,500 each 5.000
5 Prizes, 1,000 each 5,000
20 Prizes, 500 each 10,006
100 Prizes, 100 each 10,000
200 Prizes, 50 each 10,000
500 Prizes, 20 each 10,000
1,000 Prizes, 10 each 10,000
APPROXIMATION PRIZES.
9 Prizes, S3OO each $2,700
9 Prizes, 200 each 1,800
9 Prizes, 100 each 900
1,857 Prizes $110,400
Whole Tickets, $2; Half Tickets. si; 27
Tickets, SSO; 55 Tickets, SIOO.
Remit money or Postal Note, Bank Draft in
Letter, or send by Express. ORDERS of $5
and upward by Express can be sent at our
expense. Address all orders to J. J. DOU
GLAS, Covington, Ky., or JNO. B. FERNAN
DEZ, Savannah, Ga.
Htaotnolia Calm.
A SURE
RECIPE
Fur Fine Complexions.
Positive relief and immuni
ty from complexional blem
ishes may be found in Kazan’s
Magnolia Balm. A delicate
and harmless article. Sold
by druggists everywhere.
It imparts the most bril
liant and life-like tints, and
the closest scrutiny cannot
detect its use. All unsightly
Discolorations, Eruptions,
Ring Marks under the eyes,
Sallowness, Redness, Rough
ness, and tne flash of fatigue
and excitement are at once
dispelled by the Magnolia
Balm.
It is the one incomparable
Cosmetic.
Dlr&irttial.
POTASH.
lodide of Potassium is one of the strongest
of the minerals used in medicine, ami has pro
duced much suffering in the world. Taken for
•a long time and in large doses, it dries up the
gastric juices, impairs digestion, the stomach
refuses food, and the patient declines in health
and weight. Persons with Blood or Skin Dis
eases should lie careful how they take these
mineral poisons, as in most instances the effect
of them is to almost permanently impair the
constitution. To take the plaeeof these poisons
we offer you a safe, sure, prompt and perma
nent relief from your troubles. Swift’s Specific
is entirely a vegetable preparation, and it is
easy to convince you of its merit.
I have cured permanently Blood Taint in
the third generation by the use of Swift’s
Specific, after I had most signally failed with
Mercury and Potash.
F. A. Toomek, M. D., Perry, Ga.
A young man requests me to thank you for
his cure of Blood Poison by the use of your
Specific after all other treatment had failed.
Jos. Jacobs, Druggist, Athens, Ga.
Our Treatise on Blood and Skin Diseases
mailed free to applicants.
THE SWIFT SPECIFIC CO..
Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga.
h T . Y. Office. 139 W. 23d St., bet. 6t!i A 7th A vs.
Sportmcn’o COooDo.
Attention, Sportsmen.
Come and Examine.
JUST RECEIVED
"“Finest Breech-Loaders!-
nr-Finest Revolvers !-*
—AT—
P. O. KESSLER & CO.’S,
174 BROUGHTON’ ST„ SAVANN AH, GA. 7
fertUiimL
Acid Phosphate
—AND—
KAINIT
For sale by
PERRY M. D’LEON
AM BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA.
7