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Tilt BE C'U<MKN A II*!'-
Tlkre com** • time wbn we grow oil,
> D‘l, like a tuoeet, down the tea.
Sop. grwdual, and the night wind, Mid,
Come> wbiffurleg, nd and chlQicgl/!
And locks are gray
la wiu'er’adey
And eyes of radleat blue heboid
~ The leatca all weary drift away,
And lipa of faded coral aay
There come! a time when we grow old.
There comes a time when joyoua hearts,
Wh eh leaped aa leaped the laughing main,
Are dead to all save memory,
Aa pruoner in hts dungeon chain;
And dawn of day
Ha; h passed away.
The moor, hath into darkness ro led.
And by the morning, wan and gray,
I hear a toice In wbi*per aay:
Th ie cornea a time when we grow old.
Tb t cornea a time when manhood a prime
la shrouded In the mist of years,
And beauty, fading like a dream,
Hath passed away in silent tears ;
And then bow dark!
But, oh, the spark
Thf t kindles youth to hues of gold
Still burns with dear and Meady ray,
And fond affections lingering ray:
1 here cornea a time when we grow old.
There comes a time when lan.hing spring
And golden summer cease to be,
And we put on the autumn robe
To tread the last dselirity ;
dot o’er the slope
With rosy hope,
Beyond the sunset, we behold
Another dawn with fairer light,
While watchers whisper through the ulght
There comes a time when we grow oil.
THE MILL OF ETRETAT.
E: re tat was not always the pretty and
coquettish little nook it is now, where
•oik bathe and dance, the piano tinkles
*nd voices sing day and night. There
was a time when bathers did not prome
nade the beach >n oilskin caps and harle
quin suits. Indeed, it is barely thirty
years -ince the shore knew no other fre
quenters than Btout, hoarse sailors, fish
ermen and their wives and little ones,
tanned by the sun and salty air and
c a'rely clad.
■ ore that—so long ago that the
tmmoryof that time survives but as a
tout tradition—Etretat had no need ol
city and fashionables, the strangers who
v'ariy go there to barter their money
or fresh air. “ They bring water to the
mill,” the local proverb hath it, and
w ter is' precise y what Etretat stands
‘ tely in nevd of. There folk must
drink the water precisely as they find it,
inetimea turbid, sometimes brackish,
: t put their dependence mainly in the
t *. ns, when with infinite trouble the far
mers fnl their cisterns. Indeed, bo scarce
i- water there that a majority of the
country folk have entirely renounced its
use, and instead slake their thirst with a
particularly fine cider, or a particularly
vigorous brandy.
Once upon a time there were no scarci
ty of water at Etretat.
Then in the midst of the lowland,
between poplars, willows and fair apple
trees, ran a charming brook that bawled
and murmured over its pebbles and
among its cresses, and at last sought the
•ea m ar the spot where Mother Hatville
tm v serves up a very excellent dish of
fr< -h fish with a cream sauce which is
marvelous.
1 oere was then at Etretat a poor wo
man, Coquin by name, a widow, with
children. Her hund&nd. Ludwig
man-at-arms in the service of the Lord
■>f Criquetot, was so handsome, so re
splendent, so proud in casque and cui
ress, that bis companions called him
Ludwig Ie Coq, a name changed to Lud
tvig Coquiu, and of which the wearer
yyat) dcacrvciliy proud.
But Ludwig Coquin, who had followed
l is lord to the second crusade, after per
forming prodigies of valor and sending
scores of infidels down to the shades, had
at last fallen in the Holy Land upon the
body of his master, the Lord of Crique
tot, and nothing had ever been heard o
him, snd his poor wi e, Clotilda, lived
with her two little ones in extreme
poverty, awaiting the return of him who
was never ti come back.
Uj>on the brink of the brooklet, hard
by the cot she owed to the generosity of
the Lord of Criquetot, was a mean shed
in which was a heavy millstone to crush
the c -rn from which the peasants made
their black bread, but the stone ha I to
be turned with the same painful labor
applied to the fisher’s capstan on the
beach. This was of little consequence
when the stout Ludwig was there to ap
ply his broad breast to the bar, but since
h s departure and since the boat of
A loti Ida's father had gone down at sea
with all its crew, the task had been
found well nigh too arduous for the poor
woman, although her eldest son, young
Ludwig, brought willingly to her assist,
ance the strength of his small arms. Only
with the utmost difficulty could she ob
tain by her labor enough to satisfy her
daily wants: nevertheless she endured
her hardships with patience, awaiting
hopefully the return of her husband and
the growing in strength of her boys.
But all her troubles had not been told,
for her younger son, a child of four,
was stricken with one of the cruel com
plaints that are so often found in Nor
mandy, a ma'ady which wastes their
flesh, saps their forces and at last kills
them, thß local name of which is car
reau.
One evening, as little Jehan, pale,
weak, his visage shrunken with pain, lay
moaning in the cradle, wtiile Clotilda
and little Ludwig wers straining at the
bar that turned the millstone, an old
man approached, walking with difficulty,
and seated himself at the stone bench at
ihe door. He wa sheltered but indiffer
ently from the sharp breeze of evening
in the folds of the remnant of a torn
cloak, and his bare feet were dusty and
bleeding. He did not speak, but his as
pect spoke for him.
Clotilda ceased her labor at the mill,
and approaching him said : “My fath
er. you are tired and doubtless hungry ;
G< id knows there is little enough for the
children and me, but what there is, I be
seech you, come and share with us.”
“ Be blessed, my daughter,” said the
old man, in a gentle voice ; “ you alone
o' ihe whole country-side have opened
your door to me.” And entering the
cot t j ge he sat down to meat, not without
having cast a searching and pitying
glance at the humb e surroundings.
Noticing the cradle of little Jehan, the
e i man went to it, took the child in his
arms, and laying his hand on its hard
and rwollen stomach, pronounced a britf
prayer. “ There woman,” he said,
giving her the little one, on whose cheek
the rose of health had suddenly bloomed,
“jour child is cured. This work is too
hard for you; hereafter let the water
which runs before your door do the work
for you. It will enrich you and they so
long as you and they remain as I have
i and you pious, compassionate, succor
ing the poor and trusting in Gi and ”
At that moment the menu hovel shone
with a celestial light. The old man was
transformed and becam young; a golden
hilroet glittered cn bi s head ; his h east
plate giowed like flams; he mi unted s
white horse that an .angel, clad in wh.t *,
VOL, XX. NO. 9.
held at the door; on his shoulders he
wore the same fragment ol a cloak the
needy wayfarer had wrapped himself in.
Clotilda, pressing her two children to
her breast, fell upon her knees, for she
recognized the great Saint Martin,* who
often appeared in Normandy, where still
dwelt descendants of his family.
Saint Martin stretched his hand to
ward the stream —toward the hut; his
horse sprang forward, and the vision
vanished in a luminous ray.
Next morning, when Clotilda and the
children awakened they could n-t be
lieve their eyes. The little rill had be
come a broad creek and the shed a great
stone building. Ada n stretched across
the stream, whose pent up waters drove
a huge wheel that filled the air with its
harmonious tic tac and turned six beau
tiful sets of millstones—stones that gave
a fkour so fine and white that never had
there been seen its like in all Normandy.
Besides this, the stream watered and
fattened the land through which it
flowed, the fields it watered yielded triple
crops, and the cattle that pastured there
throve as none others did.
The mill of Etretat became famous
throughout the country. There was no
farmer so far off but he sent his grist to
it, and soon Clotilda’s poverty gave place
to wealth, and she and her children died
rich, happy and full of days, after having
done great good upon the earth and
never having closed their doors to the
poor.
Long, long afterwards the possessor of
the famous mill, naturally a descendant
of Clotilda, was one William Coquin.
He was rich, as none of hiß forefathers
had been, but he had inherited none of
their good qualities, being hard to his
servants, greedy of gain, haughty
wards his inferiors and pitiless for the
poor and unfortunate. “If they suffer,”
he would cry, “it is because they de
serve to suffer.” Unhappily, all the
country-side followed his sad and cruel
example, so prosperous and independent
had Eiret&t become.
One evening William Coquin was en
joying the cool of the day in his arbor,
listening to the murmur of the mill
stream and the joyous whirr of the whee
that never rested night nor day; on the
table were a fine mug of cider, a fair,
white wheaten loaf and a delicious little
cream cheese. Looking up, the miller
beLeld approach timidly an old fisher
man, old and bent—so old and bent that
he seemed well nigh broken in twain.
He was tanned as brown as leather and
a ragged fragmentof a cloak was wrapped
around his shoulders,
“ Master,” he said, humbly, “ a mor
sel of bread and a draught of cider—l
nave walked a long distance to-day and
am worn out; my boat has been ship
wrecked and I have lost all but these
rags. Have mercy on me, and I will
firoy for you.”
“ Out of here! Get out!” screa-ned
the angry milier, falling into a frightful
passion; “ away, you d< g! How dared
you, miserable vagabond! enter my
grounds without permission ? Go ! Had
you behaved yourself you would not
have had to beg and sponge on others.
Off—to the devil with you 1”
And as the old man still begged a bit
of bread the miller called his men to
drive him out.
But they had not laid hands on him,
when a tremendous gust of wind smote the
country and laid everything level with
the ground—mill, trees, dwellings, barns
The earth trembled, the skies were black
as ink; the roaring waves ran up and
swallowed the ruins.
The old fisherman was none other than
the great Saint Martin. The white horse
on which be now appeared cast a lurid
light, and the rider’s cuirass glowed like
lightning in the pitchy darkness.
•' William Cequin,” said the saint,
sternly, “you have proved false to the
faith and promise of your fathers. Of
the fortune and wealth God gave you
you have made an evil use; you have
neither been liberal nor just towards the
poor and unhappy, who are the friends
of God Ttherefore you shall become
poor and more wretched than the meanest
of them, and your name even, hitherto
blessed and honored, become the designa
tion of all that are wicked and all that
are vile.
He said this, and disappeared at a
gallop, in the midst of a great sheet of
lightning that cast a baleful glare over
the wrecked and ruined country-side.
On the morrow no trace could be seen
of mill, stones, or creek ; nay, there was
not even the original rivulet le t.
History records that the wicked miller
was reduced to such frightful destitution
that he was forced to dispute with the
swine the rotten apples that the farmers
cast aside as worthless ; at last he van*
ished from the Norman country—no one
cared to ask whither.
As the great saint bad predicted, the
name of Ci quin assumed anew and
disgraceful meaning, and when now a
days it is said of a man that he is a co
quin there needs not be said much
more about him. Nevertheless, there
still live at Etretat a family of excellent,
honest folk, descendants of Clotilda,
who have nothing in common with the
unworthy miller except the name.
As for the river, if you ever go to
Etretat you can see for yourself that no
trace of it remains, neither is there a
mill, nor yet any source of prosperity
save the tide of strangers that once a
year breaks upon the lonely and rugged
shore.
At low tide, however, Saint Martin,
having pity upon the poor w> men that
needed soft water for their washing, has
permitted the logt creek to reappear here
and there in little pools among the
j boulders of its old btd, so that >or a
| little while daily or nightly they can
beetle their linen. When the tide comes
in, however, you see no more of the
stream than if there never had been such
a thing.
Finally, as for the great Saiut Martin,
j it is many a long day since Ins appari
tion in Normandy has been credibly re
corded, possibly because of his indiffer
ent success oa a previous occasion. It
is, however, known that at the begin-
I nirg of the last century a family tracing
| its descent from him, iived and flourished
U Normandy, and it is altogether proba
ble that its representatives survive to
this day. Indeed, less than forty years
ago such representatives dwelt in the
chateaux of Lion—la-Fored and Neuf
chatel, to whom their great progenitor
had bequeathed the power of curing the
carraen by the imposition of hands ; so
that annually, in the month of Septem
ber, the sailors and peasants brought
their children from all parts of the coun
try to invoke the protection of the saint,
through the instrumentality of his de
scendants.
Such as it is, this is the legend of the
Mill of Etretat and the Great Saint
Martin.
* Saint Martin,* it may be remembered,
cut his soldier’s cloak in twain to give half
of the garment to a beggar. He always ap
pears wearing the fragment.
t Coquin—Knave, rascal.
Hasslar’s Eccentricities.
Hasslar was hampered and embarrassed
continually by limited appropriations.
His operations were not of that character
easily seen ; congress wondered continu
ally what he was about. While he was
systematizing methods and training as
sistants, congress was shrugging its
shoulders and clamoring because results
was inadequate to all the expenditure.
Hasslar was an eccentri cman of irascable
disposition and great independence of
character. On one occasion a committee
from congress waited upon him at his
office to inspect his work.
“ You come to ’spect *my vork, eh?
Vat you know ’bout my vork ? Vat
you going to ’spect! ”
The gentlemen, conscious of their
ignorance, tried to smooth his ruffled
temper by an explanation, which ’only
made matters worse.
You knows netting at all ’bout my
vork. How can you ’spect my vork, ven
you knows notting ? Get out of here ;
you in my vay. Congress be von big
vool to send you to ’spect my vork.
I ’ave no time to vaste vith such as knows
notting vat lam ’bout. Go back to con
gress and tell dem vat I say.”
The committee did go “ back to con
gress ” and report, amid uproarious
laughter, the result of their inspecting
interview.
When Hon. Levi Woodbury was sec
retary of the treasury, under Jackson
he and Hasslar could not agree as to the
compensation to be allowed to the super
intendent, and Hasslar was referred to
the president, at whose discretion the
law placed the settlement of the dispute
“ So, Mr. Hasslar, it appears the sec
retary and you can not agree about this
matter,” remarked Jackson, when Hass
lar stated his case in his usual emphatic
style.
“ No, sir, ve can’t.”
“ Well, how much do you really think
you ought to have ? ”
“ Six thousand dollars, sir.”
“ Why, Mr. Hasslar, that is as much
as Mr. Woodbury, my secretary of the
“ Mr. Voodbury ! ” screamed Hasslar,
rising from his chair, and vibrating his
long forefinger toward his own heart.
“ rilen-ty Mr. Voodburys, plen-ty Mr,
Everybodys, for secretary of de treasury;
vone, vone Mr. Hasslar, for de head of
de coast survey ! ” And erecting himself
in a haughty attitude, he looked down
upon Jackson in supreme scorn at his
daring comparhan.
President Jackson, sympathizing with
a character having some traits in com
mon with his own, granted Hasslar’s de
mand, ancf%t the close of the next
cabinet meeting told the joke, to the
great entertainment of the gentlemen
present.
Nw Theory About Mummies.
Journal of Chsmistry.
Having heard that Egyptiau mummies
could be divided into two classes, one
embracing those bodies which have been
embalmed intact, and the other includ
ing those bodies which has been evis
cerated, Dr. Gaulselbach, a Swedish
chemist of repute and professor in the
University of Upsal, has formed the
opinion that the mummies of the first
class are not really dead, but are only in
a condition of suspended animation ;
though, unfortunately for historians,
the secret of bringing them again to life
has been lost. In support to this theory
he adduces the results of his own re
searches and experiments, one of which
consists in submitting a snake to a pro
cess, the details of which are of course
kept secret, which petrifies it. In this
condition it has been laid aside for a year
or two at a time, and is then restored to
life by some equally mysterious vivify
ing process. This has now been going
on about 15 years, and the Bnake does
not seem to dislike it. Dr. Gaulselbach is
said to have applied to the Swedish gov*
ernment for leave to experiment on a
condemned criminal, the understanding
being if the experiment be successful the
criminal shall receive pardon, because of
the isei vice thus rendered to science, and,
possibly, to humanity.
Instinct in a Crab.
Dr. Darwin, in hi- “ Voyage of a Nat
uralist/’ thus describes a crab which
makes its diet of coaconuts, and which
he found on Kneeling Island, in the
South Seas: It is common on all parts
of dry land and gro vs to a monstrous
size. It has a front pair of legs, termin
ated by a strong and heavy pincers, and
the last pair by others which ars narrow
and weak. It would at first be thought
quite impossible lor a crab to open a
strong cocoanut covered with the husk,
but Mr. Liesk assures me he has repeat
edly seen the operation effected. The
crab begins by tearing the husk, fiber
by fiber, aud always from that end un
der which the three eye holes are situa
ted. When this is completed, the crab
cjmraences hammering with its heavy
claws on one of these eye-holes till an
opening U made, then turning round its
body by the aid of its narrow pair o
pincers, it extracts the albuminous sub
stance. I think it is as curious a case of
instinct as I ever heard, and likewise in
adaptation in structure between two ob
jects apperently so remote from each
other in the scheme of Nature as a crab
and a cocoanut.
.. Tenderness is the genius of simple
minds. If passion knows no obstacle, ten
derness knows no bounds. Passion is the
attribute of a soul which no longer con
trols itself; tenderness that of a heart
which no longer belongs to itself.
GARTERSYILLE, GA., FRIDAY, MARCH 28, 1879.
SUNDAY READING.
The DlfT-rrc-nee.
Two babes were born in the self-same town,
On the very same bright day ;
They laughed and cried io their mothers arms
In the rery self-same way.J
And both werr aa poor and aa innocent
as falling flare* of snow.
But or>e oi then lived in a terraced bouse,
And one in the street below.
Two children played in the Bel.'-same town,
And the children both were fair;
But one had her curls brushed smooth and round
The other had tangled hair.
Both of the children grew apace,
A§ all our children grow;
But one of them lived m the t traced house,
And one in the street below.
Two maidens wrought in the self-same town,
And one was wedded and loved ;
The other saw through the curtain’s part,
The world where her sister moved.
And one was smiling, a happy bride,
The other knew care and woe;
For one of them lived in the terraced house,
And one in the street Delow.
Two women lay dead in the self-same town,
And one had tender care;
The other was left to die alone,
On her pallet to thin and bare.
One had many to mourn her loss,
For the other few tears would flow ;
For one had lived in the terraced house,
And one in ti e street below.
Jf Jesus, who died for rich and poor,
In wonderful, holy love,
Took both of th i sisters in His arms,
And carried them up above;
Then all the difference vanished at last,
For In Heaven none would know
Which of them lived in the terraced house,
And which in the street below.
—AivotaU and Guardian.
hall ;We Know Each Other In Heaven
The doctrine of future recognition is
not so often positively stated in the
Word of God, as implied, ynd you know,
my friends, that that is after all the
strongest mode of affirmation. Your
friend travels in foreign lands. He
comes home. He does not begin by
arguing with you that there are such
places as London, and Stockholm, and
Paris, and Dresden, and Berlin. But
his conversation implies it; and so this
bible does not positively state this
theory, as all up and down its chapters
take it for grunted. What does my tea t
imply ? “I shall go to him.” What
consolation would it be to David to go
to his child if he would not know him?
Would David have been allowed to
record this anticipation for the inspec
tion of all ages, if it were a groundless
anticipation ? We read in the first book
of the bible, Abraham died end was
gathered to his people. Jacob died and
was gathered to his people. Moses died
and was gathered to his people. What
people ? Wt y, their friends their com
rades, their o.d companions. Of course
it means tha.. It can not mean any><
thing else. So, in the very beginning of
the bible, fow times that is taken for
granted. The whole New Testament is
an arbor over which this doctrine creeps
like a luxuriant vine full of the purple
clusters of consolation. .Tamo, i~i—
and Peter follow Christ into the moun
tain. A light falls from Heaven on that
mountain and lifts it into the glories of
the celestial. Christ’s garments glow
and His face shines like the sun. The
door of Heaven swings open. Two
spirits come down and alight on that
mountain. Ihe disciples look at them
and recognize them as Moses and Elias.
Now, if those disciples, standing on the
earth, could recognize these two spirits
who had been for years in Heaven, do
you tell me that we, with our heavenly
eyesight, will not be able to recognize
those gone out from among us
only five, ten twenty, thirty years ago?
II those disciples could have recognized
those two who have been gone thou
sands of yeais, will not we be able to
recognize our friends, our relatives, who
have gone only a short s pace of time ?
[Dr. Talmage further argued in favor
of such recogr ition, basing his reasoning
on the script ires and on the universal
hope and expectation of the human soul,
and then concluded as follows:]
My idea of heaven is while you are
seated there with your family talking
and enjoying the evening heur, there is
a knock at the. door, and the door opens
and there comes in a brother that has
been long absent. He has been long
gone ; for years you have not seen him,
and no sooner do you make up your
mind that it is certainly him, thar you
leap up, and the question is, who shall
give him the first embrace ? Tnat is my
idea of heaven—a great home circle,
where they are waiting for us. Oh, will
you not know your mother’s voice there?
She who always called you by your first
name long after others had given you
the ormal “ mister.” You were never
anything but Tames or John or Mary or
Florence to l.er. Will you not know
your child’s voice ? She of the bright
eye and the rt.ddy cheek and the quick
step, who came in from play and flung
herself into your lap, a very shower of
mirth and beauty. Why, the picture is
worn in your soul. It cannot wear out.
If that little one should stand on the
other side of tome heavenly hill and call
to you, you would hear her voice above
the burst of heaven’s great orchestra.
Know it! You could not help but
know it.
Now, I bring you this glorious con
solation of future recognition. If you
could get this theory into your heart, it
would lift a great many shadows that
are] stretching across it. When I was a
lad I used to go‘out to the railroad track
and put my ear close on the track, and I
could hear the express train rumbling
miles away, aad coming on, and to-day,
my friends, if we only had faith enough,
we could put our ears down close to the
grave of our dead and listen and hear in
the distance the rambling on ot the
chariots of resurrection victory. O
Heaven I sweet Heaven ! You do not
spell Heaven as you used to spell it.
You used to spell it H-e-a-v-e-n, heaven.
But now, when you want to spell that
word, you place side by side the faces of
the loved ones which are gone, and,
in that irradiation of light, and love
and beauty, aad joy, you swell it out as
never before, in songs and hallelujahs.
O ye, whose hearts are down under the
sod of the cemetery, cheer up at the
thought of this reunion. Oh, how much
you will have to tell them when once
you meet them. How much you have
teen through since you saw them last.
On the shining shore you will talk it
all over. The heartaches; the loneliness;
the sleepless nights; the weeping until
you had so wore power to weep because
the heart had withered and dried up;
story of vacant chairs and empty cra
dle, and little shoes only half worn out,
never to be worn again, just the shape of
the foot that once pressed it; and dreams
and dreams when you thought that the
departed had come back again, and the
room seemed bright with their faces,
and you started up to greet them, and
in the effort the dream broke, and you
found yourself alone! Talking all
over, and then, hand in hand, walking
up and down in the light, no sorrow, no
tears and no death.
Oh, heaven ! beautiful heaven ! Hea
ven, where our friends are. Heaven,
where we expect to be. In the east
they take a cage of buds and bring it to
the tomb of the dead, and then they
open the door of the cage, and, the birds
flying out, sing. And T would to-day
bring a cage of Christian consolations to
the grave of your loved ones, and I
would open the door and let them fill all
the air with the music of their voices.
Oh, how they boui.d in, these spirits
before the throne. Some shout with
gladness. Some break forth into uncon
trollable weeping for joy. Some stand
speechless in their shouts of delight
They sing. They quiver with excessive
gladness. They gaze on the temples, on
the palaces, on the waters, on each other.
They weave their joy into garlands, they
spring it into triumphal arches, they
strike it on timbrels and then all the
loved ones gather in a great circle around
the throne of God. Fathers, mothers,
brothers, sisters, sons and daughters,
lovers and friends, hand to hand around
aiwut the throne of God—-the circles
ever widening--hand to hand, joy to
joy, jubilee to jubilee, victory to victory,
until the day breaks and the shadows
flee away. Turn, then, my beloved, and
be like a roe, or a young heart upon the
mountains of Beersheba. —[Extracts
from a sermon by Rev. T. DeWitt Tal
mage. • '
Recent Postoflice Rulings.
Western Postal Review.
Pocket knives are unmailable.
It is the duty of a mail carrier to re
ceive mail matter properly prepaid and
inclosed in United States stamped en
velopes, when one mile or more from a
postoflice.
A paper printed in one county and
published in another can not be sent to
subscribers residing in both counties.
A mark calling attention to some par
ticular paragraph in a newspaper does
not subject it to any additional postage.
Crayon drawings are subject to letter
rates of postage, the same as any other
matter pioduced by pen or pencil.
The postal laws prohibit the exchange
of postage stamps of one denomination
for those of other denominations.
Some part of a publication must be
printed m the county wherein the
claimed office of publication is located,
tc enable the same to be sent free to
subscribers residing in said county.
(See ruling No. 3.)
There is no law excluding postal cards
from the mails because of notices of in
debtedness being printed or written
thereon, but no indecent language, terms
or epithets will be allowed in such
notices.
All letters having one full-rate pre
paid must be forwarded. Second and
third class matter must be fully prepaid.
When a newspaper has been refused,
by the party addressed it is simply the
duty of the postmaster to notify the
publisher that such is the case, after
which, if the paper continues to arrive
in the mails, he should place it with
other waste paper, to be sold at tho end
of the quarter.
The postal law forbids the renting of
boxes in postoffices to twe families or
firms. *
A printed business card may be mailed
at third-class rates, provided it has no
writing upon it other than the address.
Regular newspapers cannot be admit
ted to the mails at ponnd rates when a
handbill or circular is inclosed.
A publication not entitled to be sent
in the mails at pound rates cannot be
sent as an “ exchange ” at the pound
rates.
Postmasters at other than letter-car
rier tJlces are obliged to distribute local
(county) newspapers, intended for regu
lar subscribers, from the boxes or gen
eral delivery of their offices free of charge;
provided the same are properly dried,
folded and addressed.
A postmaster cannot use the post
office boxes as a medium to advertise his
business without fully prepaying all
postage, the same as any one e Ise would
be required to do.
The postoffice department rules that
no postcMee shall b 8 kept iu a bar
room or a room directly connected there
with, nor must any mail be opened or de
livered in any such room.
Letters passing through the mails can
not awfully be opened by any officers of
the law for the purpose of detecting
criminals.
The postoffice department is not re.
sponsible for matter lost in the mails.
It is no part of a postmaster’s busi
ness to inquire of a person receiving
newspapers, prepaid at pound races,
whether they are subscribers or not, nor
is there any restriction in the number a
person may receive, except in the case
of free country newspapers.
Cadaver Poison.
It is said that the natives of Austra
lia and New Zealand are familiar with
the deadly properties of putrid animal
m tter, and that many of their poisoned
arrrows and spears are simply smeared
with the liquids from a putrefying
corpse. According to Tafin, the.Narrin
geris, who inhabit'the lower Murray Dis
trict of Australia, frequently procure
the death of an enemy by this poison.
The instrument used is called a nieljeri.
It is a sort of spear, whose tip consists
of a sharp pointed piece of human bone,
six or eight inches in length. This is
poisoned by plunging it into the flesn of
a partially decomposed human body and
tying about it a bunch of hair or feath
ers saturated with the fat of the decom
posing body. It is easy enough to un
derstand how the slightest prick from
such an envenomed point might prove
sometimes, if not uniformly, surely and
speedily fatal.
MODJESKA OUTDONE.
The Terrible Ditngrra That Mrnarml
Bob Burdette,
Wabash (infl.) Cor. Burlington Hawkeys.
I have suffered such a terrible fright
since leaving Carlisle this morning. One
of the numerous trains on which I travel
every day was late, of course, and the
consequence was that I had to wait over
in Peru several hours. This is the city
where ail the Peruvian bark used in the
United States is manufactured. I saw
a Peruvian dog manufacturing some.
He had a boy up on the fence, and was
giving him Peruvian bark enough every
minute to scare all the agues out of
America for the next ten years. But I
digress.
I went to a hotel in Peru, and took
room with a fire, a lame window-curtain,
an invalid water-pitcher and some other
portable articles of furniture in it, and
left my baggage carelessly piled up in
great stacks around the room. Judge of
my dismay, when after leaving the room
for a few moments, I returned to discover
that a desperate attempt had been made
by a party of men, who had evidently
been following me for several days, to
steal my diamond necklace. You remem
ber the necklace very well, of course; it
is the same one I lectured in last season,
and was a present from Khalil Bey, to
whom it had descended among the family
jewels. It was originally obtained by
his grandfather, who was a Buddhist
priest and stole the necklace from the
image of Rhuudal-up-Ghud, in the hill
district, Jabbal-al-Jal. The stones were
unusually large and brilliant, and some
of them weighed nearly four ounces
when killed and dressed. It was valued
at $34,000. The robbers, four in number,
who had probably seen me wearing it,
and had followed me for several days, were
masked, and effected an entrance into
my room by climbing a telegraph pole
about two miles down the Wabash track.
Thence they “ cooned ” along the wire
until they got into town, when they got
onto the roof of the station and descended
to the ground, went around behind the
hotel, found a ladder probably left there
by some accomplices, got on to the roof
of the hotel, entered the chimney and
worked their way down it into the cellar.
It was then easy work to come up the
cellar stairs, go into the wash-room and
wash their hands and remove their masks,
and then they came out into the office
and asked the clerk the number of my
room. Then the deed was all but accom
plished, when, by a piece of wonderful
ortune, I returned to my room, having
been out in the back yard stealing enough
wood to make the fire last fiftee
minutes, just in time to prevent the
spoliation of my jewel-case. The rob
bers escaped, leaving the hotel and the
city in the same manner as they had
entered it. I think, indeed, I have been
lai/uci muisoreet, seeing uu. * ■
alone, in wearing so much valuable
jewelry I inclose necklace herewith.
Hang it up on a nail in the Hawkeye
office until I return home, and don’t let
Newt wear it every time he goes to a
party.J
Avery thrilling accident happened to
the train in which I went to New Car
lisle yesterday. We were crossing a long
bridge at a very high rate of speed, the
captain’s chronometer indicating a gait
of 2:17£ on the first quarter, when sud
denly the engineer staggered into the
special drawing-room car in which I al
ways travel-—big coal-stove in the mid
dle, tool-chest at the end, and long seats
at the sides, so you can lie down and
pound your ear when you are aweary—
the engineer came in with a face ot ashy
paleness and said to the conductor: “We
are lost 1”
“ What has happened ?” eagerly asked
the conductor.
I leaned forward and caught the
engineer’s agonized whisper: “ She’s
blowed all the packin’ clean out of the
a3h-pan I”
Few, few of the other passengers reals
ized the peril through which
we were passing; bnt I sat and listened j
to the labored sound of the men at the
pumps, and silently prayed that night or
Blucher would come. Night came along
after a while, and we were saved; but
Blucher did not put in an appearance,
and I afterwards learned that he was de
tained by deadness.
I am enjoying one of the pleasantest
lecture tours I ever made, and Provi
dence is evidently on my side. I have
nqarly lost my diamonds, like Modjeska;
had a railroad accident, litre Hoze; got
myself scratched with a cat, like Cary :
sprained my back kicking over a piano
stool, like Nilsson; had a row about my
dressing-room, like Minnie Hauk (jani
tor wouldn’t let me hang my overcoat
on the gas fixtures); eat onions like
Kellogg ; and spell my name with a J,
like Wilhelmj. The .men who plunder
the people from the platform have too
long neglected their opportunities, and
I propose to make the stars of the musi
cal world hump themselves around like
comets it they have any more advertising
incidents happen to them than I intend
shall occur to myself and my colleagues.
Tlie T allies Turned.
A man who bad gone out fishing
caught several splendid bass, which he
promptly threw back into the river.
Being remonstrated with for his ap
parently foolish act, he replied : I
take no interest in bass. I came out to
catch cat-fish, and when I come out for
cat-fish I want cat-fish.”
A hnnter, after lung following a grizzly
bear in the direction of his den, suddenly
abandoned his pursuit, and when ques
tioned as to bis motive for doing so, said
that the trail was getting “ too durn
fresh.”
A Frenchman who had been to India,
being interrogated as to the pleasures of
the chase, replied: *" Oh, ze tigai/e
hunting—zat is a sport magnifique where
ze Frenchmen bunt ze tigaire, but when
ze tigaire hunt ze Frenchman--parbleu,
zat is quite anozzer zing! ”
.. A mechanical curiosity is a wooden
watch carried as a time-piece by Mr. N.
Devolt, oi Bristol, Tenn. All the works,
except some of the finer parts, are made
of boxwood, the ca e of brown olive wood
and the dial of buffalo horn. It weighs
only half an ounce,
.. No one is more proioundly sad than
he who is obliged to laugh.
OUR BEEF SUPPLY.
The Orerat Cattle Bualuess of Triu, Illi
nois, Hlmubi-I aed Ollier State*.
That Texas is one of the largest cattle
producing quarters of the civilized world
none who have seen her almost countless
herds can deny; not even when the cat
tle produce of Texas shall be compared
with the vast herds that roam the steppes
of Russia or those that wander on the
great stations of Australia. Still, bound.*
less as the production of beef may appear
to be in Texas, the quality is so indiffer
ent that other states of the union, though
numerically tar inferior, are, in point of
wealth derived from cattle-growing,
greatly in advance of Texas. Probably
the cattle .interests of the state of Illi
nois represent the largest capital and the
richest revenues derived from this branch
of industry. While other states have
certain seasons of the year during which
their trade in cattle is active, Illinois
from the Ist of January to the 31st of
December ships from her broad prairies
and from her numerous feeding farms.
Not alone is the feeding interest closely
and diiligently attended to in Illinois,
but the rearing of calves is steadily car
ried on. Corn-fed steers are always to
be found on the great cattle markets of
the state, and such herds invariably com
mand the highest prices, and when sold
on net weight obtain the most liberal al
lowance. Kentucky as a beef producing
region can justly lay claim to some of
the very finest and best bred herds that
can be found; she might, without fear,
challenge the British Isles and Canada
for high bred stock, from whence are
drawn those animals purchased for the
purpose of improving the blood of the
herds of the western states and territor
ies. During the summer months, when
the pastures are rich in blue gra-s, the
herds of Kentucky are at large, and from
the early days of August up to the end
of October or the middle of November,
should the weather continue mild, the
grass-fed herds of Kentucky arrive on
the eastern markets. Their beef is very
wholesome, being light, nutritious and
full of juice, most suited for invalids and
children. The carcasses do not inwardly
contain the most proportion of fat as do
those of beeves corn-fed; still the adipose
matter is generally spread throughout
the muscle, and the color and flavor of
Kentucky beef are excellent. Some few
feeders there are in Kentucky who use
corn, and who ship off their herds all
through the winter and Bpring. Ohio as
as a cattle state ranks next,to Kentucky,
save that she can not boast of as much
excellence of blood as her sister state en
joys.
In Ohio,where the blue grass flourishes,
the herds are pastured ; while in o her
sections of the state corn feeding is the
rule. Ohio steers come to market most
neeiy irom tile ist 01 n.ugusi to tue enu
of February. Their quality is go id,
sometimes even superior. Where the
blue grass flourishes in Virginia the
practice observed is the same as in the
states heretofore named, save that less
corn is fed than in Ouio, and that in the
mountain districts the cattle of Vir
ginia are small and apt to be scrubby.
Virginia cattle are shipped for the east
all through the year, and are in prime
condition occasionally rather than in
variably. Missouri is rapidly becoming
a great cattle center. About mid-winter
Missouri steers are at their best. At
other seasons of the year the herds from
Missouri are coarse and light in flesh.
Toward the end of the summer is the
time of the heaviest run of great fed
Missouri csttle. The quality is inferior
and the carcasses dress to slight advan
tage. The great markets of New York
city and that at Brighton, close to Bos
ton, are supplied from Albany and Phil
adelphia, as the two nearest points for
rest and feed and water for the herds
arriving from the west. Deposit is a
great resting station an the Erie rail
road. .The western markets for east,
bound herds are East St. Liuis and
Chicago, both in Illinois. Cincinnati and
Pittsburg are also great cattle points of
union. To these places resort the eastern
shippers, and buy of the deabrs or
owners, as the case may be, the herds
they need for their eastern trad a. The
great carrying lines oi this country are
the New York Central, the Pennsylvania
Central and the Baltimore and Ouio,
being fed by the roads that diverge from
Kansas City, from East St. Louis, from
Chicago and from Cincinnati.
Another feature of the cattle trade is
the fattening of cattle on trewers’ slop.
Bulls condemned to die are thus fat
tened ; also dry cows in small numbers,
but in great numbers and with much
profit are the lean grass-fed steers of
Texas converted into fat, heavy leeves.
When the grass withers up on the prai
ries of Texas the herds must go north in
search of pasture or be shipped for sale.
The routine of the Texas cattle trade is
this: In July and August the herds are
rounded up, the calves are branded, and
all are again lot loose. Early in April
the great droves commence. Carefully
laid out cattle trails are observed, and
the herds pasture as they march. Ells
worth, on the line of the Kansas Pacific
railway, is a wonderful place for a few
weeks of the year. Early in summer it
is thronged by Texan ranchmen and
drovers; also with immense herds of
Texan steers. At this point the herds
are shipped. S >me never change hands,
but in general sales are effected at Kan
sas City. From Kansas City',these grass
fed Texans drift ofi into Missouri and
Illinois, there to bo pirt corn-fed and
-hipped eas*. in September; and up to
he first of September others are for
warded direct and are sold in New York,
Philadelphia, and Boston for what they
fetch. The flesh of the grass-fed Texan
steer is coarse and hard, the color is bad
and fat is scarce. Again, other herds
from Texas, those that constitute the
end of the run, are purchased by feeders
and. being housed, are fattened on brew
ers’ refuse, and are to be found on the
markets of New York from March till
the middle or end of May. Bulls
doomed te execution arrive on the east
ern markets earlier in the year than do
the still-fed Texan herds. From Texas,
by Ellsworth, also through Denver, Col.,
pass year by year countless droves oi
Texan cattle. These droves, old and
youpg, cows, calves and steers, go to
S. A. CUNNINGHAM.
feed Indians and miners, and such like
people, forced to live on the skirt* of
civilization. Rarely, indeed, are bulls
driven from Texas. The herds in Colo
rado, Wyoming and Montana are a rug
ged, hard-boned class, bred from the
Texan cow and native bulls obtained
from the eastern states. Thus is the
breed improved; and even already some
bulls of undoubted pedigree are to be
seen west of the great rivers. Eventu
ally Colorado and parts of Wyoming will
be the source from whence the east will
derive its supply of beef. The climate
of Colorado in two winters renders a
Texan steer healthy; that is the beast
loses the incipient disease known a
Texan fever, a loathsome jffle'im that
is to be found in the liver of even th
otherwise perfectly healthy Texan steers,
and a sickness that is highly contagious,
so much so that herds supposed to he
clean have been known to leave the dis
ease on their trail, and serious loss has
thus been sustained among native herds
which have passed over or been pastured
on the tainted lands.
The weekly average of beet cattle sold
on the open market for the ’year ending
December 81, 1878, was 9,625 head.
About B,ooo’ head.'gupplies weekly for
the home trade. In this is included
New York city, Brooklyn, Jersey City,
Newark, Patterson, Staten Island and
many minor places lying adjacent. This
gives jan average of close on 2,000 bead
weekly shipped for foreign ports. The
export trade demands the most choice
herds that reach the Atlantic seaboard,
and has been carried on through all
seasons of the year both by trade in
dressed beef and by the shipment of liv*
cattle. The recent order of the privy
council, which now hampers trade in
American cattle, is the result’of tor
much haste on the part of American
shippers. The fear .of contagion is proper,
and should have been guarded against.
Had the best course been observed lor
the general benefit of the trade, no ship
ments of live cattle should have ben
made after the Ist of October unul the
Ist of April. A fat beast taken from an
open cattle-yard, and shut below hatches
is far more likely to develop dbess
than were he exposed to the most seveie
weather. The hot air between decks
causes feverishness and congestion of
someone or other 'of the inner organs,
and pleuro-pneumonia is most frequently
developed, albeit the .beast was sound
and healthy when placed on board. On
the other hand, animals carried as a
deck-load in fine weather, improve after
the first two or three days, the sea air
invigorates them, and the total rest
causes them to improve in condition and
appearance. The great dealers iir
Texan cattle are N. Morris and 8. W.
Allerton, of Chicago. The great feeders
lette, Alexander, Monn and Mike Sulli
van, the latter being a king among cattle
men. In Texas the firm of Allen & i'oole
not long since represented an immense
business in cattle. They are shippers of
beeves and beef. They own a territory
of land close to Galveston, and had con
tracts from foreign governments. In
California ‘he firm of Miller & Lux ab
solutely control the cattle business of the
Golden State. There are many lesser
lights than those named, many of them
eminent in their business as dealers, feed
ers and shippers.
“ Rock and liye.”
A law suit in New York over a patent
right to a pulmonary medicine, has de
veloped the following receipt for a decoc
tion which is said to be of great benefit to
consumptives: Take five|pounds of pure
white rock candy dissolved in a gallon of
old rye whisky—the older the better.
The whisky must be distilled in the old
fashioned way with a copper worm.
Steam distillation develops the latent
poison of the berry, and fills the system
with fusil and other deadly oils. Col
ored rock candy is poisonous. The yel
low tinge shows the presence of an in
soluble earth deleterious to the stomach
and is dangerous. The pure white rock
is pure crystallized sugar, the most nour
ishing of all substances. The five
pounds of candy should be pot into
gallon of whisky. The deniijono shou and
be well shaken three or four tim-s a day,
and the mixture is not to b<* used until
the candy is dissolved. The patient
may take a sherry wine glass full on go
ing to bed, two-tnirds as much on hd
empty stomach in the morning. He
can carry a flask in his pocket, and take
a spoonful half a dozen times a day.
Night sweats will disappear and the pa
tient will get a long and refreshing sleep.
Lung fever will go, and he will leel no
more pain in his chest. While taking
this cordial the patient must limit hu
diet. He must keep his stomach em
ployed in taking up rich and nourishing
matter. Ali vinegars, pickles, sour wines,
and malt drinks and salt provisions must
be avoided. Touch no fresh pork for it
promotes ucleration. Do away with
coffee for it fevers the blood. Drink
black tea. Eat roast beef rare, broiled
steaks, mutton chops well done, toasted
broad, and all kinds of vegetables, 'the
great object is to enrich the blood. One
of the best articles of food is a rum om
elette made exclusively of the yolks of
eggs.
Sawdust in Mortar.
Some time since the use of sawdust in
mortar was ‘recommended as superior
even to hair for the prevention of crack
ing and subsequent peeling off of rongh
casing under the action of Btorms and
frost. Someone of the name of Siehr
says that his own house, exposed to pro
longed storms on the seacoaat,:hbd pieces
of mo; tar to be renewed each spring;
and after trying without effect a number
of substances to prevent it, he found,
sawdust perfectly satisfactory. It was
first thoroughly dried and sifted through
an ordinary grain sieve, to remove the
larger particles. The mortar was made
by mixing one part of cement, two of
lime, two of sawdust and five of sharp
sand, the sawdust being first well mixed
dry with the cement and sand.
. .The triumphs oi truth are the mos
glorious, chiefly because they are the
most bloodless of all victories, deriving
their highest lustre lrom the number
the saved, not of the slain.
WAIFS AND WHIMS.
THE SAFEGUARD.
' lnhy crept to his father's knee,
nd was ittto-l up and luilal to rest,
II the b aj eyes clost-l, so Ur. and was he,
tnd his little head Ml peacelnlly
Vt ease on the ready shoulder there,
h bile the baby h*< and so soft and fair,
l ey like a shield on his father’s bresst.
Of old ’twss raid that when men drew near
To fierce temptation or deadly strife,
And lost their way in a mase ol fear,
Or periled their souls for worldly g“st,
Hy a way unknown an hand
Would lead them out of the daugerous land
nto the light of a noble life.
1 e story Is true for the world to-day
We see no white-robed angels mild;
But out of the dark and perilous way (
Where men and women forget to pray,
Into the peace ol a purer laud
They are led by a gentle, shielding band—
’ihe hand of a little, helpleea child.
A felon on the hand is worse than
two in the penitentiary.
..Absence id the greatest of evils when
it isn’t the best of remedies.
..When fortune caresses a man too
much she is apt to make a fool of him.
. .The Turkish language is spoken by
about 14 000,000 of people in Europe.
.. A Chinese proverb says: “ Great
souls have strong wiils; others only feeble
wishes.”
..Some men cling to their opinions
more teuaoiously thau they ever will to
seU*respect.
..The beauty of the face is an envia
ble thing, but the beauty of the heart
lasts longer.
. .In the midst of life we are in debt.
- [Court Journal. Shake!—[Stillwater
Lumberman.
.. The rarest, and surely the happiest
marriages, are between those who have
grown in love.
..The Mar eillaise hymn has been
formally recognized as the national an
them of France.
..There are 700,000 cattle ruminating
on the plains ol Colorado, and about half
as many in Montana.
.. An ill-tempered word and a stone
are alike in that, when once thrown
they cannot lie recalled.
DESTINY.
Laura "Us watching the ol mils overhead.
>• Wh re are th. y going, l wonder ”
p ro .aic Tom, from th do if of toe ah 01,
“ I guess they > going to tuuoder I"
“ Where are they go'ng ?” Ethel l uul e%
Watching the cowa aa ney piss
Rudely ahouts Bill wlih a voice like a crier’s,
* l uck. u they are going to gniasi”
..Value tine friendship of him who
stands by you in the storm ; swarms of
insects w.l! surround you in the sun
shine.
.. Be ve y careful, if you regard your*
self as tlw ; uardi&n of your honor, tha
you do not occupy the position of a sin
ecu re.
..No matter how many of our laden
ships may come tafely into port, that
one which was lost at sea will always seem
to us to have carried the richest cargo
..Some people talk hours and say
nothing; others there are who, by the
mere lifting of an eyebrow or the gest
ure of a hand, are comparatively elo
e nt.
..He who is false to present duty
breaks a thread in the loom, and will see
the defect when a weaving of a lifetime
is unrolled.
..I know not which of the twain lifts
genius lifts him above others, gentleness
out of himself.
.. He that hath really felt the bitter
ness of sin, will fear to commit it; and
he that hath felt sweetness of mercy wil
fear to offend it.
..If Paul Boy ton should get stuck in
the mud and frozen to deatn, there are
people who would miss him. He may
have creditors.
_ _ There is a peace more destructive of
the mannood of living min than war is
destructive of his material body. Gu&ins
are worse than bayonets.
. .A paragraph about a mule will kick
up more attention than one about any
other known thing. The reader always
hopes to hear of the death of the mule.
It’s a good thing that the Chinese
can’t read English. If they could they
would be putting on airs about this
time, and raising the prices for washing
collars.
. .Talk about the missing link as much
yju will, the whU IS lars3 will kae
both eyes fixed on the young man who
makes bis first appearance in society in
a claw-hammer coat.
..“I never thought but once,” said
old Daacon Webbing, “ that it was a sin
to steal an umbrella.” “ And when was
that? ’ asked a friend. “It was when
som* pesky thief stole my new silk one,”
mswered the deac m.
.. It’s funny, but a soft-palmed woman
can pass a hot pie-plate to her neighbor
at the table, with a smile as sweet as dis
tilled honey, whil* a man, with a hand
as horny as a crocodile’s back, will drop
it on the floor and howl around like a
Sioux Indian at a scalp dance.
. Things are great or small according
to the end of the micioscope through
which you look. Some people manage
to look at their troubles through the up
per end, and .so incontinently magnFy
them, and at their good fortune through
the lower end, and so minimize them.
Sereuity in Death.
Perfect serenity in regard to death is
not to be obtained by any effort of the
will, or by any process of reasoning ; it
is rather the result of a happy combina
tion of bodily and mental conditions.
The chief of these conditions, the assured
hope of a future beyond the grave, in
comparison of which the brightest earthly
visions fade like a candle before the
dawn, is not given to all ; and in these
days, especially, it is for many over
shadowed, if not altogether blotted out
by doubts and questionings which can
no longer be hidden from the multitude.
Even to thoße who most earnestly cling
to the hope ot immortality it would seem
that our troublous inheritance of sym
pathy must ca-t many a sid*- ight upon
prospects in which of old the faithfu
were able to taae undisturbed delight
However this may be, the mere prospect
of prolonged existence beyoDd the sr'ave,
apart from other reasons tor joytui c..n
fidence, must be taken rather as enlarg
ing the scope of our hope'- and got fears
than as necessarily altering the balance
between them. Habitual hopefulness
may color the prospect beyond the grave
with the same glowing tints which it
throws over this world, so that in some
cases the same cause which makes life
delightful makes death not unwelcome.
Such a state of mind, though rare, is not
unknown. But perhapi a perfect bal
ance of leeling is more readily to be
found at A Offer i§vel of expectation