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Tlio Hoard.
Wo masculines sometimes speak snoer
ingly of the earnest devotion paid to
fashion by tho female sex; but with what
reason? True, there is in our female
fashions a seeming (if not real) sacrifice
of convenience, comfort, propriety, good
taste, and even health at the imperative
demands of fashion in the materials and
make-up of all articles of dress and in
tho manner of wearing the hair. But
who are to blame? Wo, her worshippers,
defenders, admirers and protectors, do
not tolerate in her any departure from
tho rules of tho goddess fashion, and if
there is any guilt or foolishness attached
to tho followers of this science I do not
sco why wo men should not bear a part
of it, for though we have taught our
tailors that in tho fashion of our apparel
we will not tolerate much inconvenience
to please them, still we will lot our
barber (if we tolerate one at all) play all
manner of antics with our distinguishing
feature, the beard.
Tha'real difference in the folly of the
two sexes is that the females follow an
almost exact uniformity in their coiffures,
while the men, as far as able, practice on
infinite diversity.
1 have lately amused myself by look
ing over the likenesses of noted men of
the present age as they appear in our
publications, and noticing the differences
in the manner in which they are repre
sented as wearing the beard. In nine
numbers of the Phrenological Journal
of 1875 I find 35 likenesses of eminent
men, and in these many styles are shown.
I have also the likenesses of 38 eminent
men residing in the Fifth Congressional
District of the State of Michigan, which
show great diversity of style.
Now let us moralize over these facts.
It has been said “there was nothing
made in vain,” and I have heard this
class of men debating the question
whether or not the beard of man was in
flicted as a punishment for original sin.
As for me, I verily believe it a blessing,
and I agree with Dr. Holland in advising
“if you have a beard, wear it,” and if
you ask me, ns others have, “Why, if the
beard is a blessing was it not given to
woman?” My reply will be I don’t
Know, neither am I dispsoed to criticise
the works of the Creator, but to admit
that “Ho doeth all tilings well.” Of the
eminent men of the age it seems that
only If! out of 73, or less than 22 per
cent., hold to the above doctrine, but
undertake to improve upon the works of
the Almighty.— Rural New Yorker,
What Is a Cold Bath]
A cold bath is not necessarily a batli
in water of the temperature of the atmos
phere. A batli is truly and really cold
when it produces a certain physiological
effect—a slight momentary shock 10l
lowed by pleasant find lasting reaction.
The effects are for the majority of peo
ple most pleasantly obtained by bathing
in water about 35 deg. to 40 deg. below
the temperature of the body—the usual
temperature of unheated water in June
and July. Bearing this hi mind can
enjoy our physiological “cold” bath as
safely and pleasantly at Christmas as at
midsummer, and there is no necessity
for the most timid or weakly to discon
tinue his morning tub because the sum
mer weather is over. When the water
sinks below a temperature of 60 deg., let
it be heated to that point and then used,
and we shall still have our “cold” batli,
though of heated water. The daily stim
ulant effect of such a bath is so beneficial
to the great majority of persons and is of
such marked service in maintaining
health, that it is very important to have
it widely known that a cold hath may be
taken ail tl-o-year round, provided cold
is not mistaken to mean “at the temper
ature of the outer air. ” To heat our batli
during the winter months is too often
thought to be unmanly, while in reality
it is truly scientific, and‘to bathe in un
lieated water all the year round, what
ever the temperature that water may be,
is to prove one's self an ignorant slave of
outward circumstances, — Lancet,
The Best Wood to Use.
The fuel question is one of a good
deal of moment not only to our city and
village folks, but also to the farmer. We
have taken considerable time in finding
out which is the most economical variety
of wood to burn for our Minnesota pat
rons. At this time the hard maple is the
favorite in Minneapolis. The people
will give a dollar or more a cord for this
wood in preference to any other variety
offered in the market, but it is far from
being the most economical. The reason
the maple is so universally used is that
it burns so readily. A cord of good
seasoned white oak will make more heat
than a cord and a third of maple. In
any event, it is a great convenience to
know the comparative value of tho dif
ferent kinds of wood for fuel. Taking
shell hark hickory as the highest stand
ard of forest trees, and calling that 100,
other trees will compare with it for real
value as follows.
Shellbark hickory. 100 Hard maple 59
Pignut hickory... 95 White elm £8
White oak 84 Red cedar 56
Dogwood 77 Yellow pine 54
Scrub oak 74 Butternut 51
lied oak 69 White birch 43
Birch 62 White pine 40
Yellow oak 60 j
Minneapolis Tribune.
Tom Ochiltree and Jem Mace.
It was some seven or eight years go,
Just after the Coburn-Mace fiasco, anil
the latter was still in the city. As ho
was loaning against the bar a number of
gentlemen and Tom Ochiltree were dis
cussing politics and prize fights in an
other part of the room. Mace’s wonder
ful expertness in the use of hi\i hands
came up, and someone offered bet a
basket of champagne that no man, un
less a professional, could get in a blow
on Mace’s face. Ochiltree took the bet,
and walked deliberately over to Maee
and slapped his jaws. The astonished
prizo fighter looked at Tom for a moment
and then lit out from the shoulder. A
mass of red hair, a corpulent body, legs
and boots all mingled in indescribable
confusion, flew through the door and
rolled out over the brick banquette into
the street. While sympathetic bell boys
and laughing friends were straightening
Tom out and patching his fragments to
gether, some of the gentlemen explained
to Mace the circumstances of the bet.
“Oh ! it was that way, was it ? If I’d
known it I wouldn’t ’ave eared,” said he,
“ an’l’m bloody glad now I didn’t ’it
’im ’arder.”
Tom thought it was a quite sufficiently
“ ’ard ’it.” If the blow had struck him
anywhore else but on tho cheek it would
have killed Mm.— Washington Capital.
Prayers That Arc Answered.
An old darkey who was asked if, in
his experience, prayer was ever an
swered, replied: “Well, sah, some
pra’rs is ansud and some isn’t—’pends
on wa’t you axes fo’; just arter de wall,
we’en it was mighty hard soratehin’ fo’
de culled breddren, I ’bserved dat we’en
ebber I pway de Lo’d to sen’ one o’
Marse Payton’s fat turkeys fo’ de ole
man, dare was no notice took ob do par
tition; but we’en I pway dat he send de
old man fo’ de turkey, de matter was
tended to befo’ sun up nex’ mornin’,
dead sartin.”
He jgwroi ffcfa Aups.
WILL W. SINGLETON, Editor dc Proprietor.
YOU, VI.
hOKtutT itritwn.
BY IIKNIIV W. LONOPKI.LOW.
I sup amid Ilia Helds f Ayr
A plowman, who, In fool or fair,
Sinj>s ut lus task,
So clear we know not if It is
Tho laverock’s song we hoar or his.
Nor care to ask.
For him Hie plowing of (hose fields
A more ethereal harvest yields
Than sheaves ol grain:
Songs flush with purple bloom the rvej
The plover’s call, the curlow’s cry,
* Sing in his brain.
Touched by hL hand, the wav-side weed
Becomes a flower; the lowliest retnl
Beside tlio stream
Is clothed with beauty; torse and grass
And heather, wliero his footsteps pass,
The brighk r seem.
He sings of love, whose flame illumes
The darkness ot lone cottage rooms;
lie feels tho forca
The treacherous under-tow and stresa,
Of wayward passions, and no less
The keen remorse.
At moments, wrestling with liis fate,
His voice is liars'., but not with hate;
The brushwood hung
Above tho tavern doors lets fall
Its bitter leaf, its drop of gall,
Upon bis to. gue.
But sti 1 the burden of his s >ng
Is love of right, disdain of wrong;
Its master-chords
Arc Manhood, Freedom, Brotherhood;
Us discords but an ii terlude
Between the words.
And then to die so young, and leave
Unfinished what he might achieve!
Vet better Hire
Is this than wandering up and down,
An old man. in a country town,
infirm and poor.
For now he haunts his native land
As an immortal youth; iiis hand
Guides every plow;
He sits beside e eh ingle-nook;
11.s voice is in each rushing brook,
Each rustling bough.
His presence haunts this room to-night,
A form ot mingled mist and light,
From that, lar coast.
Welcome beneath this roof of mine!
Welcome! this vacant chair is thine,
Hear guest and ghost!
—Harper's Magcusins,
THE MISSING MAN.
A. STORY OB' A. FACT.
She was a curious sort of woman; 1
could never quite make her out. Ev
idently she had “a past,” but she would
not tell me much about it, until a mere
accident opened it all up. I will not stop
to relate flow I know lier, but come to
the point at once.
I was dawdling one morning over the
Times, when my eye fell upon an ad
vertisineut about a missing man; I forgot
how it ran, but he had disappeared in
some mysterious way, had never been
heard of, and that sort of thing; was
supposed to have hid a large sum of
money about him, and a reward was
offered for such information as might
lead to his discovery, etc. —you know,
the usual business.
Well, I can not say why, but I hap
pened to read tins advertisement out to
my friend, and as I went on, glancing
down the paper, I said:
“Ah! poor fellow, he will never be
heard of again; robbed and murdered,
no doubt; these disappearances are all
undiscovered murders, I suppose. ”
I heard her move uneasily and sigh,
and, as I continued reading to myself,
there followed a sob and a moan. Look
ing up, I saw to my surprise, that she
had buried her face in her hands, and
was crying bitterly.
Rising and crossing the room, I asked
what was the matter.
It was a long timo before she could
speak; at last she said, through her sobs,
in a kind of absent way:
“No, no; they are not all murdered,
not all. ”
“Why, what in the name of mischief
do you know about such things ?” I in
quired. “What has come to you, poor
child ? Calm yourself. How should you
know whether they are ail murdered or
not ?”
“Because,” she went on presently, and
looking at mo in a strange, sad manner,
her pretty brown eyes filled with tears,
“because I have too much reason. But
there, it’s very foolish of me; I have no
right to bore you in this way—forgive
me;” and she rose to leave the room.
I stopped her; I saw I was on the
brink of a revelation; I did not intend to
miss it, for I was fond of her and conse
quently interested. So I pressed my ad
vantage, the end being that I elicited a
very strange story; true, I have not the
least doubt. Briefly this is it, though I
shall only give it in her words when it
serves me best to do so. In its narration
she once or twice grew so dramatic that
I will try to remember exactly what she
said.
Her husband must hare been a man of
good family, but an utter scamp, gam
bler, spendthrift, and drunkard; all his
own people turned their backs on him.
Dropping lower and lower, ho reached a
very low ebb, indeed, at last, and she
had a bad life of it with him. They had
been living somewhere in Yorkshire, he
racing, betting—heaven knows what.
The Doncaster meeting was coining
round, and he found the region getting
too'hot for him, so he made a bolt of it,
and came to London, bringing her with
him (they had no children); came, as I
understood, with a couple of portman
teaus, and under an assumed name-—of
course, she never told me his real one.
He took a small, old-fashioned, furnished
cottage for three months; a dilapidated
place somewhere near Kilburn, quite on
th’e outskirts, and where the new neigh
borhood, which has now sprung up, was
only then first beginning to be thought
of. * There were a few new roads led out,
and here and there an odd house or two
erected, with the shells of others incom
plete—you know the sort of place, all
scaffold polos, cabbage gardens, dead
cats, battered tin kettles, and stagnant
pools.
They had been in this precious abode
but three days, when what happened,
happened. They were without a servant
—in the house alone, in fact, the wife
becoming the drudge meanwhile. A
high wall surrounded the garden in
which the cottage stood, it having been
a neat little box in its day, quite in the
country. An old and now almost dis
used road ran along one side of this wall,
which had a door in it among some thick
trees.
Well, it was early iu September, the
weather was close and sultry, and on the
third evening, as it was getting dusk,
she strolled out and sat down on a bench
IUTKNA VISTA, MARION COUNTY, OA„ SATURDAY, JANUARY 29, 1881.
under these trees, near the door, leaving
him sulkily smoking in tho house.
“ Had and miserable indeed I was as I
sat there,” went on mv friend, “thinking,
thinking, thinking, in the silent gloam
ing. Everything was still nB death in
that dreary neighborhood, so that when
tlio sound of a footstep coming slowly
along the road by tho side of the wall
caught my ear, I almost started; but
when I heard the footstep suddenly tot
ter, then stop close to the door, and some
o’ne stagger against it, I rose from sheer
nervousness. When to this sound suc
ceeded a long-drawn gasp and moan, and
then a heavy thud ns of the person falling
to the ground, with an instinctive pity I
flew to tho door, and drawingback the lock
gently opened it. There on the step lay,
ns well as 1 could see by the twilight, a
young, well-dressed man. Ho made an
effort to rise when he saw me, partly re
gaining his feet, caught at the door-post,
staggered and fell headlong into our
garden. All this was but tho work of a
moment, and now thoroughly alarmed,
and hardly knowing what I did, I closed
the door and rushed into the house. My
husband met me on the threshold.
“ ‘What now? What’s all that scrim
mage about?’ lie asked.
“ Timidly I told him.
■“‘You fool, are we not liard-up enough
already, but you must be playing the
Good Samaritan, and let the man in? Do
you want to turn the place into a hos
pital? He’s drunk, no doubt.’
“ With this he reached the spot where
the unfortunate man lay face downwards
upon the edge of the soft, unmown lawn.
Gently turning him over, my husband
went on;
“ ‘Why, he’s dying, if not dead; we
must fetch a doctor. A j ire tty mess you
have got us into, but we must go through
it honestly, or else who knows what we
may he charged with—murder, perhaps?
Be off and get a doctor; there’s a red
lamp at the second turning on the left
down this road.’
“ I flew to do his bidding, terrified by
his words, which I saw had some reason
in them, and had nearly reached the
house when he called out:
“ ‘Here, go out this way, by this dooi
here into the road; it’s nearer.’
“ I returned and was about to open
the garden door, close to which he was
still bending over the body, when I saw
he was examining the contents of a large
portemounaie, which he had taken from
the pocket of the prostrate, unconscious
man. It seemed to be full of notes and
gold. I hesitated, but fearing to remon
strate, was drawing back the bolt, when
he whispered:
“ ‘Stop—wait a minute. Did any one
see you let him in ?’
“ "No one; there is not a creature
about, and the roads is not overlooked,’
1 answered.
“ ‘No, nor this corner of the garden
where we are—no, it’s too much shut in
by trees, and it’s getting too dark.’
“Whilst speaking he was looking
wound to assure himself that lio was
lino!’served, and, seeming satisfied, be
gun to further examine the contents of
the pockets and to transfer the porte
aionuaio, a letter or two, a handsome
gold watch and chain, and a scarf pin to
’iis own.
“‘What are you doing?’ I timidlv
asked.
‘Mind vonr own husiues,” he said,
do as 1 tell you and hold your tongue.
I’ll go for the doctor myself; but first of
ill we must get him into the house.
Here, catch hold of his feet,’
“Then, without listening to my pro
tests, my husband raised in his arms the
slim, helpless form of the young man,
and. with my assistance, carried him
along the path, under the shadow of the
high wall and trees, into the house, and
laid him on a sofa in the little breakfast
parlor that gave upon the lawn by an
open sash-window.
“ ‘Light a candle, pull down the blind,
get somo water and brandy: he is not
quite dead,’said my husband, whilst ex
amining tire man’s pocket handkerchief.
“ ‘No initials, nothing to identify him
by. Good ! Now I will go for the doc
tor; you stay with him. Put a little
more brandy to his lips from time to
time, loosen his necktie—so, and now,
mind, when I return with tho doctor, if
there have been any signs of conscious
ness, or if the poor fellow speaks at all,
keep it to yourself; don’t say a word. You
can tell me when the doctor is gone.
The man is not dead, but ha will die, I
think, and if he does die without speak
ing—well, we shall lose nothing for our
hospitality; it’s worth risking. Mind,
now, what I toll you,’ he added, with a
fierce look at me, ‘if you don’t I’ll be
the death of you.’
“Then he went out through the front
door and gate, ostentatiously in a hurry,
and I heard him running down the silent
road. I turned to my patient, and found
him still breathing, but quite uncon
scious.
“Terrified and bewildered I hardly
knew how long it was before I heard
hurrying footsteps again on the road, and
presently, having let himself in by the
latch key, my husband appeared with a
stranger, the doctor, a seedy, needy
looking man.
“Rapidly examining the patient, he
said, with his finger on the pulse.
“ ‘About twenty minutes since he was
seized, eh? H’m your younger brother,
you say?’
“ ‘Yes,’ answered my husband prompt
ly, with a significant look at me as I
started at his reply.
“The doctor had his ear on the man’s
chest, while my husband continued with
assumed emotion :
“ ‘My youngest, my favorite brother.
Dear sir, pray toll me—Ah! I fear by
your face; but say, is there no hope?’
“The doctor shook his head.
“ ‘Oh, will he die ?’
“The doctor bowed his head, and my
husband buried bis face in his hands for
a moment.
“I was aghast, perplexed beyond mea
sure, and was about to speak when an
other fierce look checked me.
“When the doctor had moistened the
patient’s lips once more with brandy,
and after using the stethoscope for
several minutes, he said with professional
gravity:
Devoted to the Interests of Marion County and Adjoining Sections
“‘lt is my painful duty to tell you
that you must prepare for the worst.’
“ ‘All, I feared so!’ said my husband.
‘Ary poor brother was supposed to have
disease of the heart; it was tlio opinion
expressed by a physician two years ago,'
“‘This is not tho heart,’ said tho
doctor, feeling the pulse again. 'This is
cerebral hemorrhage—apoplexy, in fact.
Ho is all but gone; nothing can lie done.’
“Then there was a slight convulsion,
and the doctor continued:
“‘1 fear I can lie of no further use
professionally; but can I help you lo do
what is necessary now, or do yoiri'trwi
any—
“ ‘No, wo know no one in the
hood; wo are strangers here,’ interrupted
ray husband. ‘We are from Cornwall,
and are come to live in London, and
have only been in the 1 ouse three days.
My dear brother came to stay with ns
yesterday. He has been out all day.
The moment lie came in he fainted,
and then—and then I ran for you. Will
there be any need for an inquest?'
“ ‘lndeed,’ said the doctor, ‘l'm afraid
there will.’
“ ‘Oh, how very distressing!’ went on
my husband. ‘Can we not bo spared
this pain?’
“The other paused, and then said
slowly, with a peculiar expression on his
face:
“‘Well, surely, surely with what you
tell me, and with whnt I have seen of
the case, I might perhaps certify, and so
spare you the distress of any inquiry.’
“ ‘Thank you, thank you a thousand
times,’ said my husband earnestly, as I
saw him press a couple of tho. sovereigns
ho had lately taken from the dead man’s
pocket into the doctor’s hand.
“ ‘Very well, then,’ answered that
functionary; ‘I will manage it, and do all
that is necessary. I will send someone
immediately. Good-night. ’
“When he was gone I summoned up
courage to ask the meaning of what I
had heard.
“ ‘Wliat are vonr intentions? Tray
tell me,’ I said.
“ ‘You always were an idiot,’ he an
swered, ‘ but I will try and make you un
derstand for once in a way. Any woman
who was not a fool, and had been a living
wife and alive to her husband’s wel
fare, could have seen with half an eye
what my game is. It’s a very simple
one, tjnil mind you do not spoil it, or it
will be the worse for you; and that you
may have no excuse for doing so, I’ll
tell you what it is. There was some
thing like six hundred pounds in notes
and gold in that poor devil’s poeketbook.
There is nothing to show who he was to
anybody hut me, who luckily can keep a
secret, so I shall not tell you his name;
besides, it docs not signify. Not a soul
but our two selves know how he came on
to my premises; he can never be traced
there. I pass him off as my brother, and
Imry him accordingly. No one here
abouts knows who we are, so who is to
say he is not my brother? Had not good
luck brought him to our hospitable gate
at the critical moment, and had you not
been the far-seeing, clever woman you
are, and not let him in, why, lie would
have fallen down dead in the public high
way, and his property have been at the
mercy of tho first person who found him.
They might have been honest or not.
He would have been taken to the hos
pital, and of course his friends would
have been duly informed of the sad loss
they had sustained. Now, as it is, they
will be spared this sorrow, because they
will never know what has become of him.
He will only be one more victim added
to the list of mysterious disappearances. ’
“ ‘Well, but,’ I broke in, ‘his friends
will make inquiries after him. He may
be traced to onr gate, and we may be
called upon to explain.’
“ ‘We may be,’continued my husband,
‘but it's sufficiently unlikely. It will be
a cursed piece of ill luck if he is. Who
is to trace him into this God-abandoned
region? Under all the circumstances,
and by your own showing, it is most im
probable—nay, it is impossible.’
“ ‘Yes,’ I again interposed; ‘but he will
be advertised for and described.’
“‘Very likely,’ he went on; ‘hut the
doctor and the undertaker are the only
people besides ourselves who will have
seen him, and they will have nothing to
identify him by even if they ever know
or hear anything about the disappear
ance. They will never recognize in my
dear brother, poor John Smith, who died
of apoplexy, here in my house, under the
very eye of the doctor, the forlorn man
by the name of (but I will keep that
to myself,) ‘who was last seen,’ etc., as
the advertisement will run. No; they
will not know the name. It will convey
nothing to their minds; how should it!
For, remember, the moment you so ju
diciously lot him in anil closed our gar
den door upon him, the lost man had
ceased to he. From that moment he be
came my brother John; the real man was
gone as clean out of existence, had as
clean parted with his identity, as if he
had never been! By heavens! it’s a
stroke of genius on my part. I never
guessed I was half so clever a fellow,’
added my husband, triumphantly. _
“‘But,’cried I once more, ‘this is a
very dreadful, a very dangerous game,
as you call it, to play. It is absolute
theft, and worse ’
“ ‘lf you can not use better language,’
he said, ‘hold your tongue; don’t insult
me. I tell you the money might as
well have fallen into my hands ns into
those of the first policeman or pot-boy
who might have found him. I want it
badly enough, and if you don’t betray
onr secret there is very little risk of my
right to it being disputed. ’
“ ‘But,’ I said, ‘the watch, the rings,
as well as the money—they may lead
to your discovery.’
“ ‘Not at all,’ he answered, ‘if they
are carefully converted, and I will man
age that. The notes are the only dif -
ficulty; but I can get over that, too. If
I go straight to the Bank of England to
morrow morning, directly it is opened
and change thorn into gold, I shall bo j
tlioio long before their loss is known, or,
ooiiHoqently, the numbers are stopped, |
The young fellow, perhaps, will not ho j
missed for a week; he comes a long way :
from here; I have seen enough to t<'ll me
that. Wo do not know what his habits
were; we do not even know that, any one j
was aware ho had the money about him. j
No; the more I think of it the safer the j
whole game looks. You have only to
keep your own and my counsel and our
fortunes are retrieved iur a few months,
and we have nothing to fear. Ah, that’s
the undertaker, no doubt. You get out
>f the it all to me.’
aj.ring at the bell lierm
wl.r :>{. I’-.rnt to answer*- * 3®
“Ah, that was a dreadful night, and
during the few days following I was
nearly beside myself with terror. Of
course, the house was closed, as‘became
the occasion. The funeral—a very quiet
one—took place in due course at Kensal
Green Cemetery, my husband following
as chief mourner in the coach, accom
panied by the doctor.
“No remarks, no suspicion attended
so common-place a circumstance, and
when the ground had closed over the un
fortunate unknown man, and when, a
week later, a modest tombstone recorded
the decease of the imaginary ‘John
Smith, aged twenty-three,’ all trace of
the dreadful fraud, save that which is
printed indelibly in my mind was
gone.”
As my friend reached this part of her
story she was a good deal overcome, and
said she had nothing more to tell; but
after a while I learned from her that tho
scoundrel had managed the conversion
of the notes exactly ns he had proposed.
He slipped away from the house quite
early the morning after tho death, and
almost as soon as the Bank of England
was opened changed the notes into gold,
as lie cuuhl do, l>y merely writing a
name and address—ficticious, of course
—on their backs.
He returned from the city with his lit
tle black bag, as he had gone, by a cir
cuitous route; so evading all chance of
being followed, though, of course, there
was really no likelihood of any one
being on the alert. He got drunk in the
afternoon and confided these details to
his unhappy wife. The unfortunate
victim of apoplexy had probably not
then even been missed. It was a cun
ning game truly, and boldly played out,
and this is really about all I know of it;
my poor little friend refused to let out
any more very important facts.
Her husband utterly deserted her in
less than six months afterwards, and she
was left—well, that does not matter. To
this day she knows nothing of who or
what the unlucky young fellow was,
where lie came from, or whether he was
ever inquired after; hut, though, when
she told me her story seven years had
passed since she let him in at the garden
door, and he fell all but dead at her feet,
she very naturally felt—and, and, no
doubt, still does feel—extremely uncom
fortable when any chance reference is
made to a missing man. —All the Year
Round.
A Good Card for the Country Where
He Lived.
A village merchant from up the coun
try had concluded his purchases, and was
ready to go, when he suddenly remem
bered something, and said :
“ I want your help to bring out an
idea. I’ve got tired of advertising after
the old fashion, and I want to strike
something new.”
“ Did you ever try the dodge of giving
away a chromo to customers?”
“ Yes. Played that out two years
ago. Folks don’t take to cliromos as
they did.”
• • Have you offered a silk apron to the
lady making the heaviest purchase at
one time ? ”
“I have. And I had to give it to an
old woman who purchased an old bed
tick and half a pound of tea.”
“ How would it do to give away, say
ten half-pound packages of tea during
the day ?”
“I tried that dodge, and tliosft who
didn’t get the tea wouldn’t trade with
me. again. I’ve given away oysters, sar
dines, butter, rolling-pins, washboards,
and almost everything else, and now I
must have something new. I keep all
kinds of goods and want all kinds of
customers.”
Two members of the film and the
gray-headed old book-keeper went into
committee of the whole with the mer
chant, but he resisted every suggestion.
The “ convention ” was in despair, when
the customer suddenly slapped his leg,
smiled all over, and broke out with :
“I’ve got it—biggest draw yet! I
want a pair of the finest kid shoes in
this city—about No. 3’s. I’ll take ’em
home and advertise to give ’em to the
first lady Customer who can wear ’em.
The catch will be to keep back the size.”
“You won’t have ’em on your hands
long.”
“ Won’t I? Say, I’ve lived in ——
over forty years, and I’ll bet a silk hat
against a codfish that we haven’t got a
female above 12 years old who doesn’t
have to tie a towel around her head to
get her feet into No. s’s. You ought, to
come up there and see the tracks in the
sand after a smart shower. When I
throw out my dodge and they come in
after the shoes, they’ll turn whiter than
ghosts at the first look, and every
blessed soul of ’em will be glad to take
a 3-cent cake of soap and keep still
about it.”— Wall Street News.
A bright little boy, who had been en
gaged in combat with another boy, was
reproved by his aunt, who told him he
ought always to wait until the other boy
pitched upon him. “ Well,” exclaimed
the little hero, “but if I wait for the
other boy to begin, I’m afraid there
won’t be any fight.
Fast Thinking.
One man thinks faster than another
man for reasons as purely physical as
those which give to one man a faster
gait than that of another. Those who
move quickly are apt to think quickly,
the whole nervous system performing
its process with rapidity.
The play of Brutus, which John Mc-
Cullough delights in, was written by the
same man that wrote Home, A wed
Horned- John Howard Payne.
AVICUNT OF SUBSCRIPTION, $1.25.
A WONDERFUL COUNTRY.
Tlm* l>‘V4‘l4|ll4‘llt Of 11l 4 .l’4*:if Xiltlirnl
1t4‘%4H11 4*4*M 4rtll l lll(4*4l MI||I4MI.
At a meeting of the American Society
of Mechanical Engineers in New York,
Prof. Thurston delivered the address.
“Much,” ho said, “remain's to be done by •
the General Government in the develop
ment of the resources of this country.
The new organization of the geological
survey is such in form and in the char
acter of its administration that we hope
to see the work of determining the
value of our mineral resources done with
maximum rapidity and efficiency. In
tracing the progress in the various de
jjiydmenta of American enterprise he
kiffWthat ninety-nine years ago Samuel
A. Sluter started the first successful cot
ton-spinniug mill at Pawtucket, II.'I.
To-day we raise 1,500,000,000 pounds of
cotton to supply mills in nearly every
New England State and in nearly every
other State in the Union, which manu
facture .$500,000,000 worth of goods.
“From the day in 1794 when the first
rude woolen-mill was established at New- .
bury, Mass., our woolen manufactures
have grown in extent and in excellence i
of product, until to-day our 12,000 or
15,000 sets of machinery, handled by j
nearly 100,000 of the most skillful opera- j
fives to be found in the world, produce
$250,000,000 worth of goods, which in
point of cheapness and excellence com- :
pete with the best work in Europe.
“We have seen the silk manufacture,
after struggling with difficulties of every
imaginable sort for half a century, finally
secure a foothold and enter upon a
period of prosperity which is as marvel
ous as it' is encouraging. The enterprise
of the Cheneys during the past genera
tion, and the steady persistence of the
Paterson, N. J., manufacturers, have
borne fruit in the erection of 250 mills,
with a production of $150,000,000 worth
of silk goods, which in strength and
durability excel, and in beauty are fully
equal to, the finest products of its French
competitors at Lyons.
“In the manufacture of iron and steel
the story is the same. We have furnaces
which are supplied with every variety of
the best ores, and are making 2,000,000
tons of pig iron per annum.
“By a wise policy of legislative protec
tion we are practically free from that
foreign competition which threatened to
throttle our manufactures in their in
fancy. We consume our whole product,
and that is nearly 15 per cent, of all the
iron used in the world. Of our enormous
coal yield, about 50,000,000 tons a year,
a large fraction is consumed in making
and working this iron, 1,000,000 or more
tons of which goes to market as wrought
iron in a thousand different shapes.
“The growth of our Bessemer steel
production is even more marvelous.
Twenty years ago this wonderful illustra
tion of the marvels of chemical science
was looked upon as merely an interesting
and curious process, of no immediate
value and of most uncertain promise.
To-day a single establishment is making
100,000 tons a year.
“The United States is looked upon as
the home of all ingenious and effective
labor-saving devices. The Corliss engine
lias revolutionized the steam-engine
manufacture of the world. The class of
men from whose ranks the - members of
this society are principally drawn direct,
and labors of nearly 3,000,000 of working
people in a third of a million mills, are
responsible for the preservation and pro
fitable utilization of $2,500,000,000 worth
of capital direct; the payment of $1,000,-
000,000 of wages; the consumption of
$3,000,000,000 worth of raw materials,
aud the output of $5,000,000,000 worth
of manufactured articles. Fifty thou
sand steam-engines and move than an
equal number of water-wheels turn the
machinery of tho hundreds of thousands
of workshops throughout the country. ”
* Franklin’s Maxims.
plow deep -while sluggards sleep, and
you shall have corn to sell and keep.
Tride is as loud as want, and a great
deal more saucy.
Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets,
put out the kitchen fire.
Diligence is the mother of good luck.
Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined
with poverty, and supped with infamy.
Extravagance and improvidence end
at the prison door.
It is easier to build two chimneys than
to keep one in fuel.
If you would know the value of money,
go and try to borrow some.
What maintains one vice would bring
up two children.
He that goes a-borrowing returns sor
rowing.
Bather go to bed supperless than rise
in debt.
Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than
labor wears.
A life of leisure and a life of laziness
are two different things.
Creditors have better memories than
debtors.
Tho rolling stone gathers no moss.
If you would have your business done,
go ; if not, send.
It is foolish to lay out money in the
purchase of repentance.
Gone By.
The days are gone by in which a spade
might Vie called a spade; now', every
thing’s in a name. Clerks do not wish
to be styled clerks, pure and simple, but
to be set forth as “with” Messrs. So and
So. Bar-keepers demand to be consid
ered “in the wdne business,” and drivers
of lager-beer wagons to Vie styled “in the
brewery business.” No doubt by the
same token, venders of matches ask to
Vie enumerated as “lumber merchants;”
and brick-layers, we are assured, con
stantly request to be written down as
“masons and builders.” Circus riders
and negro minstrels pretty universally
ask to be catalogued as “in the dramatic
profession.” Commercial travelers are
found to be variously entered as “im
porters” and “jobbers.” The dashing,
if somewhat diaphanous, disguise where
by dealers in faro-lmnks aud blacklegs
generally are prone to describe them
selves as “sporting men” is not, we be
lieve, allowed in the census, although
between it and the foregoing the differ
ence is perhaps only one of a degree.
A military guard accompanies every
train on the Mexico and Vera Cruz rail
road, and at every station a guard is
drawm up under arms on the arrival of
every train.
THE FAMILY DOCTOR.
If we add a pint of pure water to a
pint of impure water, we dilute the im
pure water, and it is made that much
the more pure. If wo add a dozen pints
of pure water to it, we dilute it still
more, and bring it nearer purity yet;
but if wo add a certain number more,
instead of the impurity becoming di
luted, it is absolutely destroyed, and Dr.
Letlierby, of London, says that the
water is perfectly pure. It is the same
way with impure air. A certain quantity
<>f pure air added to it, dilutes the bad
air and makes it less noxious, while if a
certain quantity more is added, tho im
purity of the air is destroyed, as is the
case with impure water. Any person
can judge of this from the good effect of
much pure air upon had air.
The follow ing hints concerning the uso
of tea may prove useful: 1. Whosoever
uses tea should do so in great modera
tion. 2. It should form a part of the
meal, hut never bo taken before eating,
between meals, or on an empty stomach,
as it is too frequently done. 3. The
best time to take tea is after a hearty
meal. 4. Those who suffer with weak
nerves should never take it at nil. 5.
Those who are troubled with inability to
sleep nights should not use tea, or, if tliey
do, take it in the morning. 6. Brain
workers should never goad on their
brains to overwork on the stimulus of
tea. 7. Children and tho young should
never uso tea. 8. Tho overworked and
underfed should never uso tea. 9. Tea
should never be drunk very strong. 10.
It is better with considerable milk and
sugar. 11. Its use should at once be
abandoned when harm conies from it.'
12. Multitudes of diseases come from
tho excessive use of tea, and for this
reason those who cannot use it without
going to excess should not use it at all.
Dr. Day says in a late lecture : What
ever be the plan of treatment decided
upon rest is the first principle to incul
cate in very severe headache. Best.,
which the busy man and anxious mother
cannot obtain so long as they can man
age to keep about, is one of the first
remedies for every headache, and we
should never cease to enforce it. The
brain, when excited, as much needs
quiet and repose as a fractured limb or
an inflamed eye ; it is obvious that the
chances of shortening the seizure and
arresting the pain will depend on our
power to have this carried out actually.
It, is a practical lesson to keep steadily
in view in that there may lurk behind a
simple headache some lesion of unknown
magnitude, which may remain stationa
ry if quietude can be maintained. There
is a point worth attending to in the
treatment of all headaches. It is that
the head be elevated at night, and the
pillow hard; for if it be soft the head
sinks into it and becomes hot, which,
with some people, is enough to provoke
an attack in the morning if sleep has
been long and heavy.
Except a Turkish bath, nothing is
more efficacious in the sore throat of
children or adults than a w r et compress
to the throat. Double a towel two or
three times, so as to make a pad that
will fit snugly under the chin and over
the throat, and let it extend around
from car to ear. Then bind a thickly
folded tow'el over the wet pad, having
the towel wide enough to overlap the
edges of the pad. It is best to pass this
outer covering over the head, and not
around the neck after the style of a cra
vat, the object being to exclude the air
so as to keep up a perspiration over the
diseased parts. But if the soreness is
low down on the throat, the outside
towel may be passed around the neck ;
yet, when this*is done, it is much more
difficult to exclude tho air. The wet
compress may be put on cold or warm;
but, when cold, it soon becomes warm
from the heat of the skin, and is really
a warm vapor bath. When the pad is
taken off, the throat should be washed i r i
cold water to close the pores, and then
w'ell dried with a towel. This is appli
cable to croup and to all kinds of sore
throats, and w ill be found more oleanly
and equally as efficient as grandmother’s
stocking filled w ith ashes.
Only Once.
Of the 15,000 words in Shakspeare,
about 5,000 of them appear only once ;
of words beginning with a, 364 appear
only once ; and with rn, 310. Among
those beginning with rn that occiu but
once are, “ magical, mirthful, mirth
moving, moss-grown, moonbeams, mat
in, mural, magnificence, meander, mas
ter-piece, marrowless, martyred, melli
fluous.” Some, like “mechanics, mis
sion, maxim, magnify, malcontent,
marsh, manna, maritime, metropolis,
medal, metaphysics, motlierwit, ” and a
score of others, are so familiar it seems
impossible that Shakspeare should not
have needed them more than once, often
so beautiful and poetical that one
wonders they could fail to be Ms favo
rites again and again. “ They remind
me,” says the essayist, “of the exquisite
crystal bowl from which I saw a Jewess
and her bridegroom drink in Prague,
and which w r as then dashed in pieces on
the floor of the synagogue, or of the
Chigi porcelain painted by Baphael,
which, as soon as it had been once re
moved from the Farnesina table, was
thrown into the Tiber.” His explana
tion is that Shakspeare’s forte lay in
characterization, and that endlessly di
versified. But when he sketched each
several character it seems that he was
never content till he had either found or
fabricated tho aptest words possible for
representing its form and pressure most
true to life. No two characters being
identical in any particular more than
two faces are, no two descriptions, as
drawn by his genius, could repeat many
of tho self-same characteristic words.
Each of his vocables thus became like
those of the 7,000 constituents of a loco
motive, which fits the one place it was
ordained to fill, but everywhere else is
out of place, and even dislocated. On
every average page of Shakspeare you
' are greeted and gladdened by at least
five words that you never saw before in
his w'ritings, and that you never will
see again, speaking once and then for
ever holding their peace—each not only
rare, but a nonesuch—five gems just
shown, then snatched away. Each page
is thus studded with five stars, each as
unique as the century-flower, and, like
the night-blooming cereus, “ the per
fume and suppliance of a minute.” The
mind' of Shakspeare was bodied forth
as Montezuma was apparalled, whose
costumes, however gorgeous, were never
twice the same.— Lippincott’s Muya
zinc. _ ___
A Mitigating Circumstance.
The prosecuting witness in a case be
fore the Galveston Recorder had a lump
over his eye as big as an egg plant, which
was caused by a negro throwing a lump
of coal at him without the slightest prov
ocation.
“ I don’t see that there is a single miti
gating circumstance,” said the Recorder.
“Why, jedge, you lias oberlooked one
ob the mitigatinest circumstances in de
world. .1 only hit him wid a lump of
soft coal. Don’t yer call that mitigatin',
when I could hab fotched him jest as
easy wid a lump of hard coal?”—Galves
ton News.
NO. 21.