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About The Butler herald. (Butler, Ga.) 1875-1962 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 6, 1885)
W. N. BENNS, Editor and Proprietor. . : = “LET THERE HE LIGHT.” Subscription! VOLUME IX. BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1885. • %--Nj \J A HAYING SONG. Over the meadow floats the mist, Rolling softly away; Up on the hills the sun has kissed, Brightens the yellow day. Faintest breath of the morning breeze Shakes the dew from the orchard trees, Sways the bough where robin is saying, “Wake, oh, wake! it is time for haying!” Cows are lowing in haste to try Pastures moistened with dew; Swallows twitter, and brown bees fly, Scenting the blossoms new. Meadow larks, out of sight, repeat, Over and over, “Sweet, oh, Sweet! Grass, and clover, and lilies blowing. Round my nest like a forest growing.” Through the meadows the mowers tread, With a sturdy stroke and true; And oh! for the lilies, so tall and red, When the gleaming scythe sweeps through, Balancing over the grasses light, Dropping with laughter out of sight, “Ho, ho, ho!” hear the blackbird singing. “Give me a day when scythes are swing ing.” In fragrant furrows the grass is laid, The golden sun climbs high; The mowers sharpen the ringing blade, And glance at the western sky. Hark! the quail with his warning call Whistles loud from the mossy wall, “Mower whet!” while the sun is shining, Storms may come when the day's de clining. —Emily Miller, in the Current. AN EDITOR’S LUCK. The editor of the Dorset Independent sat in the back window of the editorial rooms, looking rather despondent. The Independent was six months old, and the editor was beginning to think it would never be much older. People admired the enterprising young editor, Eben Hill, who had come from the next town with a hand press, and a small and freckled assistant, and gone to work so energetically; but people had got along so far without a paper, and they were inclined to think they could do so still. Subscriptions were not numerous, and there was a disposition on the part of the majority of the subscribers to pay in wood or potatoes, or anything but money, or not to pay at all. The editor sat stroking his beardless chin, and looking out of the window gloomily. He had grown very fond of sitting in the back window, the reason being that it looked directly into Mr. Strew’s back yard, and that Virginia Strew sat there almost every afternoon with her book or eewing. From meeting her eyes and smiling occasionally, as he sat biting the end of his pencil over the “Local Items” for the next issue of the Independent, he had grown into the habit of stepping from the window and joining her on her bench under the grapevines. She was sitting there now, with her head bent over her work and the folds of her white dress falling softly about her. The editor coughed; Virginia looked up and smiled; and the editor leaped from the window with undignified haste. “Well,” said Virginia, laying down her work as he sat down heside her, “how are you getting along?” “Badly!” said Eben, shaking his head. “Two more subscriptions stopped— John Burke, because I didn’t want to take a bushel of beets, instead .of money —beets! and Mr. Hewitt, because I for got to mention the cucumber that he ‘laid on our desk.’ I’m afraid the Inde pendent is going down hill.” “Dear me!” said Virginia, sympa thetically. “If your uncle would only step in and help youl” she added,, wist fully. Eben’s uncle was another common to pi a. He was rather mythical. All the i editor knew about him was that he was a well-to-do publisher somewhere in Boston. I But Virginia was fond of speculating about him. “A publisher, tool” she added, mus- I ingly. “It would be exactly the tiring for you 1” “It would enable me—” There was a rustle behind them. Vir ginia held up a warning finger. “It is the Grangers’ boarder,” she j whispered. “He came this noon. He’s 1 been sitting in the yard all the afternoon, looking over here—Mercy, here he is 1” A head had projected itself above the vines behind them, and a hand clutched | at the branches. “I beg your pardon 1” paid the person, smoothly, “but I saw you come over. Are you not the editor of—of the—” “The Independent," said Eben, frig idly. - What right had this person to be look - ing at Virginia all the afternoon, and to thrust himself upon them in this way? “Oh, yes!” said tne stranger, blandly; ‘ ‘so I was told. I— In fact, I was anx. ions to make your acquaintance 1” The grapevine snapped; the head dis appeared; there was a pain fully-suggest ive jar. Virginia peeped through a crack in the fence. “There’s a gate a little further down,” she said, politely. “Won’t you corns in?" “You are extremely kind,” was tho response, uttered in a grateful, apolo getic way, which Eben could see had its effect upon Virginia. She went immediately to open the gate. Eben rose stiffly as they came toward the bench together, and stood leaning against the fence and frowning, Virginia sat down upon the bench; the interloper sat down heside her. He was a tall, stout, rather florid young man, with a face which the vast majori ty would have pronoanced handsome. But Eben promptly decided that he had always disliked that style of good looks. “You are Mr. Hill, then?” said the gentleman, suavely. “Yon see, I have been studying the Independent.” In deed, he held a copy of that enterpris ing sheet in his hand. “I am in the business myself, and am naturally inter ested.” He took a card from his pocket book and gave it to Eben. “R. A. Coombs, Boston,” was printed on it. Eben did not respond. He fancied that'Mr. Coombs’ refer ence to the Independent had contained something of sarcasm. “Do..you find it difficult, running a paper alone?” Mr. Coombs continued, cheerfully. “I feel a professional inter est, you see.” “I have an assistant,” said Eben, cold ly, with a grim smile, as the vision of the assistant rose before him. But he felt that the fellow must be put down. Of course he was not in the business; he had wanted a closer look at Virginia, and he had taken this way of getting it Because he was a country editor, he had thought it would be easy to impose upon him. And that it should have happened then—just as he had plucked up courage to speak his mind to Virginia! He looked at Mr. Coombs witheringly, with a growing bitterness of spirit. “Indeed? A sub-editor?” 3aid Mr. Coombs, politely. “If it would be con venient,” he added, “I should like ex tremely to go through the editorial rooms. And perhaps the young lady would accompany us?” “Certainly,” said Virginia, promptly. Eben stared at her. So his smooth ways and his florid good looks had captivated her already? Perhaps it had been as well that his avowal had been interrupted. “I am sorry,” he said, savagely, “but I can hardly spare the time at present.” And he turned sharply and left them, dropping Mr. Coombs’ card at a con spicuous point as he went. He stalked in at the front door of the printing office, almost knocking down the freckled assistant, who sat there whittling, and straight to the back window. He could hear a steady murmur of voices—Virginia’s soft tones, mingled with Mr. Coombs’ deeper ones. Oc casionally they both laughed in a highly- amused away. He straightened the shutter, and looked through. There they were, sit ting rather close together on the bench, Mr. Coombs bending toward Virginia, and Virginia smiling up into his face. Three o’clock—4. The sound of their voices ceased at last. He heard the lit tle gate open and shut, and he heard Virginia humming lightly as she tripped into the house. Well, of course that must settle it! If she could, before his very eyes, en courage the bold advances of this person from Boston—who was undoubtedly an imposter—if she could laugh and talk with him, as he had believed she could do with nobody but himself, there was but one thing to conclude—that, for his own peace of mind, he must give her up. It was the last thing he would have thought of Virginia; he had trusted her completely, and he felt cast down in proportion. But he felt a rising hope, in spite of his resolves, as he sat in his usual place, the next afternoon, with his paper and pencil. He was trying to write up Lucilla Brompton’s wedding for the next week’s Independent. He had a list of the guests before him, and a catalogue of the pres ents, and a box of the cake on the table beside him; and he was expected to get them all in. But he felt his mind wandering from Lucilla Brompton’s triumphs to Virginia Strew and her misdoings, and he stuck his pencil behind his ear with a sigh. Perhaps when she came out—she would be sure to come out—well, perhaps every thing might be right yet. He heard a rustling among the grape vines presently. There she was, blowing the dust off the bench and switching her skirts to one side preparatory to sitting down. She looked up, and smiled and bo we#; and Eben sprang up, with his foot on the window-sill—and stopped short. For the little gate had opened with a clii v and the tall form of Mr. Coombs hact appeared in the act of bowing. The editor sank back into his chair, closed the blinds with a bang, and wrote Lucilla Brompton’s notice with fierce rapidity. The week that followed was the most wretched he had ever spent. Mr. Coombs had gone away after a day or two, and Eben had put a cut ting local in the Independent to the ef fect that a Mr. Coombs, of Boston, had been “lighting our benighted village with the inestimable glory of his pres ence.” He took a savage delight in this pro duction, and he sent a marked copy to Virginia. He sat in the back window every day, as usual, and every afternoon Virginia sat on the bench, with her sewing. She had looked toward the window at first, and smiled with her customary sweetness;’hut the editor had made no response, and she had come gradually to pay no attention to him. Eben felt that his cup of misery was full when, one\afternoon, about a week after the jklvelpt of Mr. Coombs, Vir ginia did not come into the garden. _ He walked up and down restlessly, pausing frequently to look toward the bench. She was sick, perhaps. And might it not be that his neglect had made her so. The small assistant with his brimless hat on the back of his head, and one hand full of marbles, came in presently with the maiL. Eben’s mail was not usually heavy; but to-day there were two letters. He opened the top one. It was from Squire Bailey. He wanted his subscrip tion withdrawn. He had subscribed for the Agricultural News, and he didn’t want to take two papers. . Eben threw it down with a sigh, and took up the second. It was a large, business like epistle, with the name of the firm, which was printed in one corner, effectually blotted out by a thumb mark. The small assist ant rarely washed his hands. Eben tore it open. It was headed, “Hill & Barton, Publishers.” He glanced it over swiftly; then he read it through slowly, the hand that held it shaking with his eagerness; and then he rushed to the back window. Yes; there was a flutter of white among the grape vines. She was there at last. He leaped from the window and flew over to her side. Virginia looked up from her work with a smile, for all the world as though nothing had happened. “Read that!” said Eben, excitedly, tossing the letter into her lap. “From my uncle at last I” It did not occur to him that, in view of the events of the last week, Virginia might no longer take an interest in him self or his good fortune. But she took up the letter quietly and read it through, without any appearance of emotion. “It is very nice,” she said, taking up her work and moving away from a cater pillar on the edge of the bench. “Iam very glad 1” “Good gracious!” said Eben, sitting down before her—and it did not seem in the least as though he had not sat there for a week—“it is one of the best places in the house that he offers me. Just look at the salary! And see here,” ho added, in a subdued way, pointing to a signature at the bottom of the page— “ ‘Per Coombs.’ That means he wrote it for him. Was that—could that have been the fellow, Virginia?” Virginia smiled composedly. “It was,” she said, sweetly. “He is one of the employes. He told me all about it that first day. He is a relative of the Crangers, and he was out here for his vacation; and the senior partner of the firm told him that if he came across his nephew out here anywhere, he might let him know. But if it hadn’t been for me, he never would have let him know, Why, he didn’t know what to think of you.” “But you did!” said Eben, edging a little closer to her on the bench. That her answer was satisfactory may be concluded from the fact that when the editor went away, some two hours later, he had put the unpretentious ring that ho wore upon the third finger of Virginia’s left hand. The Dorset Independent came to an un timely end shortly after. But the very first letter which the ex editor wrote to his fiance from Boston obtained the following postscript: “Coombs seems to be a nice enough fellow, but I have taken particular pains to let him know that we are engaged.”— Emma A. O.iper, in Saturday Night. The Four Great Moseses. Moses, the son of Amram, he who has brought the children of Israel out of Egypt; who broke the chains of slavery; our great law-giver was our first great Moses. Moses ben Maiman, known as Mai- monidcs, who lived in the twelfth century, a scientific investigator: a writer of philosophic works; a student of medicine, and rich in Talmudical learning; he was our second great Moses. Moses Mendelssohn, born in 1729, a modern thinker and pursuer of the phi losophy of the former, who was full of Jewish piety, and yet succeeded to raise the social elevation of his Jewish breth ren ; he was our third great Moses. Moses Montefiore, whose death we now mourn, who was principally known for his unbounded love for all mankind, but most particularly for his unlimited Philanthropy toward his coreligionists; he put into practice the teachings of his three great predecessors, and was our fourth great Moses.—Hebrew Journal. Cocaine. It is a native of South America, and has been used by the Peruvians and other South American peoples from before the dawn of history. Its leaves are chewed, being first prepared with lime and made into small boluses, which are used when the native is traveling and desirous of conserving his strength. A second use is for the purpose of producing intoxica tion, tho leaves in this case being chewed without any admixture of foreign sub stances. The third use being of the leaves as a substitute for tobacco, when they are smoked. It was also extensively used by the Indians in their religious rites, a practice which the Catholic clergy did all they could to break up, believing that the leaves were hurtful. The alkaloid was first extracted by Gamecke in 1355, and two years later 8. R. Percy presented some of it to the New York Academy of Medicine, calling attention to the fact that it could tem porarily paralyze the tongue.—American Journal of Medical Science, DROWNING BATHERS. How to Bncu« Item-All Interview with a Coney Island Ufe-Saver. “Presence of mind is the first thing needed in saving a person from drown ing,” said William Johnson, a liie-saver at the iron pier, to a reporter for the Brooklyn Union. “Bat what good would presence of mind do in mi the drowning person grappled with you, as was the case with the girls at Clinton Point the other day?” said the reporter. “Yon have to adopt a heroic remedy 1ft a case like that*!? said Mr. Johnson. “If a person struggled with me in the water I would strike him so as to make him helpless, If he caught me about the arms, I would, as I have done, butt him with my head until he released me. He would do it almost instinctively. The first thing in rescuing a person is to be able to seize him proDerly. He should be taken at arm's length, so that in his struggles he may not impede you.” “Don’t drowning persons give them selves up readily?” “No: that’s the strangest part of it. They nearly all struggle with you as if they thought you were trying to drown them. I remember one big man who was unable to help himself and was rap idly drowning"! I. went to his rescue, and he actually fought with me so that 1 had to knock him senseless to save his life “Do drunken men go in the water fre quently?” “They wouldn’t naturally be allowed "n the water if their condition was known. The truth is that they may be apparently perfectly sober when they start in, and the motion of the water will render them dizzy. A little salt water is sure to be swal’owed by the man, and it will help send the fumes to his head. Another thing is that the bather ordinarily con tents himself with ducking his head un der the water once or twice and then letting the sun pour on it, while the lower part of his body is cool. This naturally draws the blood to the brain and helps the liquor to do its work. People often bend their heads to the breakers and let them pound upon them until I should think they’d split their skulls. I wonder there are not more c::sos of brain-concussion. In fact, most people drink before going in the water instead of after coming out, and meet the breakers in the worst possible way. Water is the easiest to divide but the hardest to resist. Present an angle of your body to it and there is no trouble. Otherwise there is always danger.” “If a person goes under water, do you wait for him to come up again?” “No. sir. It i3 an old and supersti tious idea that a person must come to the surface three times before he drowns. The truth is, he might come up half a dozen times, or he might not come up at all, according as he struggled or as his lungs became filled with water. I am always in condition for swimming, and as soon as any one goes under water I notice the condition of the tide and jump in after him. I have found several lying on the bottom who would have drowned if I had waited for their reap* pearance. “After you bring them in how would you restore them?” “In the first place they should be brought in face downward, and then laid upon their faces, so that their heads are lower than the nether parts of their bodies, and the water they may have swallowed can go out. There need be no rough action to secure this result. In fact, the rolling of a person over a bar rel, or other rough exercise, might be the means of killing them.” “That will not induce respiration?” “Oh, no. To bring back the breath they must be placed in a reclining posi tion, the arms thrown back and then each successively thrown across the breast, which should be pressed in. This might be continued for an hour or more with good result. In fact, lives have been lost because people gave up too quick. Human lives are worth hours of work. At least I think so.” “Does the application of brandy do good as a restorative?” “If applied to the extremities, yes; but when forced into a person’s mouth, no. A drowning man wants all the room he can get for breath. If you lie on your back half conscious and struggling for breath, you can see for yourself how your palate would close your throat and nothing could get into it. You would choke aud die, and I don’t doubt deaths have been caused this very way. ” “Does over eating cause cramps?” “Not at all. Overeating causes apo plexy. Cramps are usually caused by the excessive and unusual use of the limbs. Have you ever put your arm or leg to a sudden strain which has con tracted the muscles? That is what, gives a swimmer a cramp. Men who are good swimmers, but who do not swim often, are the ones who are caught with a cramp, more often in the leg, because the motion of swimming is an unusual one. When they get the cramp they lose their pres ence of mind and give themselves up. The right way to do !b for them, instead of giving up, to gradually let the limb out so that the sinew may get its normal tension, and then they will come out all right. They can float easily if they only try, and put themselves out of danger. I was attacked with a cramp in my right leg while bathing in Seneca lake at a part which was unfathomable. For a second I lost my presence of mind, but it was a matter of life and death, and while I held myself up with my hands I gradually accustomed my leg to its nor-, m»l position." “i these any other source of d$pgerl” “Yes, the habit of diving. It is easy to dive in the shallowest water if a swim mer will only spread out the palms of his hands as soon as he enters the water This changes his course upward in an instant. I have seen men break their necks by diving from a distance of six feet above the waters without changing the position of their hands when beneath the surface. Fd like to emphasize the need of prompt ness in rescuing people who have gone down under water. Don’t wait for them to reappear, and don’t be afraid of what they might do. A good swimmer always has the best of it, if he keeps a clear head. Then do not carry drowning per sons face up. Always carry them face down, so any water they may have swal lowed shall run out of the mouth, and after natural breathing has returned, and not till then, should they be given re storatives. I came near getting in a fight for suggesting this in the case of a young woman at a neighboring bathing place, but I carried my point, and, I think, saved her life.” Mr. Johnson is a practical exponent of his theory of life-saving. He has saved thirty persons from drowning since he has been at Coney Island. He is about twenty-five years old, has the figure of a perfect athlete, and in the winter serves as a model for artists who study from life. Coniiments anil Indigestion. Cayenne pepper may be selected as a typical example of a condiment properly so called. Mustard is a food and condi ment combined; this is the case with some others. Curry powdeTS are mix tures of very potent condiments with more or less of farinaceous materials and sulphur of compounds, which, like the oil of mustard, onions, garlic, etc., may have a certain amount of nutritive value. The mere condiment is a stimulating drug that does its work directly upon the inner lining of the stomach, by ex citing it to increased and abnormal ac tivity. A dyspeptic may obtain imme diate relief by using cayenne pepper- Among the advertised patent medicines, is a pill beaiii.g the very ominous name of its compounder, the active constitu ent of which is cayenne. Great relief and temporary comfort are commonly ob tained by using it as a “dinner pill.” If thus used only as a temporary rem edy for an acute and temporary, or ex ceptional attack of indigestion, all ia. well, but the cayenne, whether taken- iq pills or dusted over the food, or stewed with it in curries or otherwise, is one of the most cruel of slow poisons when taken habitually. Thousands of poor wretches are crawling miserably toward their graves, the victims of the multi, tude of maladies of both mind and body that are connected with chronic, incura* ble dyspepsia, all brought about by the habitual use of cayenne and its condi. mental cousins. The usual history of these victims la thit they began by overfeeding, took the condiment to force the stomach to do more than its healthful amount of work, using but a little at first. Then the stomach became tolerant of this little, and demanded more; then more, and more, and more, until at last inflamma tion, ulceration, torpidity, and finally the death of the digestive powers, ac companied with all that long train of miseries to which I have referred.-*- Wild Beasts in India. It is startling to read in official returns that more than twenty-five thousand per sons are annually destroyed in British India by wild beasts. The tiger alone, in 1883, killed 985 people, besides 4,000 cattle. Venomous serpents destroy immense numbers of wayfarers. Owing to the heat of the climate, poor persons travel mostly by night, and walk barefooted or wear only a sandal that does not pro tect the ankles. The deadly cobra is seldom active in the daytime, but he may be trodden upon in the darkness by uncovered feet. He at tacks the traveler, who is found in the morning dead upon the road. Often the shortest path between two' villages lies through a jungle, where in the daytime the heat will rise to 1G0 un der the blazing sun of India. The temp tation to defer the journey until after sunset is to most natives irresistible, and in the tropics darkness quickly follows the departure of the sun. The natives walk in Indian file in the narrow track, and a loiterer fa Is an easy prey to a tiger crouching in ambush. In many purls of India, despite the ut most- efforts of the government, wild beasts render life hard indeed to the people, for one pair of full-grown tigers with cubs will destroy from four to six bullocks each week. Often in pure wuntorness, a tiger will kill two or three cattle when he wants only a small part of one. A family of tigers will kill in a week more animals than a family of farmers can cabin a year. The panther *aud the leopard are algo terrible cattle-eaters, and the leopard has a particular habit of carrying off the dogs which are expected to guard the herd from his attacks. The Indian wolf is noted for his audacity in seizing chil-, dren. In India animals have a charac ter of ferocity which makes auman. life in some districts well-nigh insup,port- able.— Youth's Campanion. It has been dec! who throws k: ungentlemai He shpuli them POPULAR SCIENCE. It is believed the deepest water on the globe has been lound in the Pacific ocean. English scientific explorers have dropped the sounding line 4,575 fath oms, about five and one-fifth miles. The American steamer Tuscavora sounded 4,600 fathoms cast of Japan. Drs. Kleiber and Keller, of St. Pe'ers- burg, have been studying tho increase of the earth’s mass from the addition of meteors drawn from space. They have calculated that about 430,000 meteors fall on the surface of the earth each hour, and that the weight of the foreign ma terial thus added must be as much as 4,960 pounds hourly, or nearly sixty tons daily. A French anthropologist has been com paring skulls of men distinguished for uprightness and wisdom with skulls of assassins (sixty-five samples) and of sav ages. He finds a constant difference in the profile of the forehead. Among dis tinguished persons the anterior cranial portions are the best developed, while among savages and assassins the racial and posterior projections exceed the others. The Glasgow Philosophical society has demonstrated that at about 122 de grees below zero, Fahrenheit, the flesh of animals becomes so hard as to ring like porcelain when struck, aud also to be capable of being crashed to a fine powder. Microbes, however, living in the flesh before freezing have been found alive when thawing took place, after an exposure of two hundred hours to this intense cold. Stanley, the American explorer, be lieves equatorial Africa to be habitable for Europeans, and that, with due at tention to diet and an occasional holiday change, they may long retain their full vigor in the Congo country. On the other hand, Fischer, a German traveler, regards Central Africa as entirely up for Europeans at lower levels than/ 90 feet, and even at that altitude ssalaria nlust be expected on rich land. By exhaustive investigation the Ger man Anthropological society has found that rather more than one-fourth of the school children of Central Europe are pure blondes, and about one-sixth are brunettes, more than one-half being of the mixed type. In Germany 31.80 per cent, of the children are fair, and 14.05 per cent, arc dark; in Austria the dark predominate, being 23.17 per cent.,while the fair amount only to 19.79; in Switz erland the blondes are only 11.10 per cent., while the brunettes are 25.70; and in Belgium the blondes are 27.30 per cent. The proportion of dark children in Germany increases rapidly toward llie south, and that of light children tow ird the north. This varying distribution of fair and dark complexion forms the basis of speculations concerning the early colonization of Germany. An Incident In Grant’s Career. General Thomas S. Dockery tells sn in' cident in the career of the dead com mander indicative of General G#mt‘s feeling and sympathy for vfj one in trouble, whether friend ortinemy. On July 5, 1863, after the victorious general had conquered Vicksburg, a sweet-faced woman, whose features showed that ehe was suffering, much anxiety of mind, made her way after some difficulty to General Grant’s tent. She said she was Mrs. Dockery, wife of General Dockery, who was then a prisoner of war in Vicks burg. The lady desired to know whether her husband was dead, dying or in good health, and wished a pass to enter the city. This pass could not be given, but General Grant hastily penned a letter to General Pemberton, who had charge of the prisoners of war within the city, asking for immediate information con cerning General Dockery. During tho messenger’s absence Mrs, Dockery tr.ey completely oraresase by her anxiety for her husband’s fate, and wept bitterly. General Grant, although his tent was crowded with generals and aides, turned his attentiuntc the weeping woman, and in the tendeieet manner possible at tempted to console her with bright hopes that her huabaid was alive and well. When the mesienger returned with the intelligence that General Dockery was alive aud would soon join his wife, the brave commander was apparently as happy over the joyful information a9 was the faithful wife. He heartily con gratulated her, and then wrote a pass for herself and a Mr. Wright, who ac companied her safely through the Union lines. For the gentle and feeling man ner in which General Grant treated her, Mrs. Dockery has never ceased to bless the brave man who to-day will be laid la his last resting place.—New Yndc World ~ To Be Wise. If you want to know What a i Should be—ask some one who i or preached one. / If you want Ip hotel, ask someone keep one. If you want to . goods store, ask some oi to tell the diffej satinett. If you want to know I steamboat, ask f you the diffe and a rudder post. THE ART OF EMBALMING. The Modern jprocesi ot Preserving Dead Bodies. Two men sat silent in a handsomely furnished store on a leading New York thoroughfare. A small portion of the furniture and ornaments pertained to the living, the remainder to the dead. It was an undertaker’s establishment, and the younger but more solemn person was a professional embalmer. In answer to the reporter’s questions, he said: “General Grant’s embalming was work of the finest kind, something to be proud of. It was done by the leader of our profession, and with the best ma terials in the market. There are many mortuary directers who profess to be em- balmcrs, and who know a smattering of the art, but they are unworthy the name. Real embalmers arc few in num ber, there not being more than ten in tne entire country. To be one an under taker must have a sufficient knowledge of surgery, medicine, and chemistry, and must also have considerable artistic sense. This makes a rare combination. “The chief element in embalming consists in removing a large portion of blood from the body and substituting therefore some powerful antiseptic fluid. Many experiments have been made in re spect to these liquids. I can hardly re call how many preparations have been tried. Brine, salicylic acid, diluted creosote, solutions of sulphate of zinc, and the iodide and chloride of that tnetal. You see, the fluid used must be nearly colorless, or else verging on blood color, and must not cause dis coloration. This precludes the use of salts of copper, iron, manganese,and chro mium, and also of compound of sulphur. “A solution of chloride of zinc was at one time in vogue, but in several in stances it produced a ghastly bluish tinge, and so went entirely out of fash ion. The so-called Egyptian fluid was a standard preparation for years. It was so named by its manufacturer, who claimed that it was the same liquid as was used in preparing the mummies of Egypt. It was improved upon, how ever, by some American chemists, who now have a practical;monopoly in sup plying embalmers with the fluid. Their manufacture is styled the Oriental fluid, and is made in Boston. “In embalming, a large vein and large artery are opened, and a small force pump, connected with a vessel i contain ing the antiseptic fluid, is applied. The process requires from two to four hours. The natural movement of the circula tion is followed. As the fluid enters the blood vessels the blood is forced out. The longer the time the better the result. A short time enables the opera tor to remove the blood 'from only the larger vessels. In a longer period the fluid passes from the larger to the smaller vessels, and into the capillaries. This distends the skin and produces a life like appearance. “The cost of thejproceas is from $15 upward- EttfBaimlng grows??,ire iKMu» jfH6n every year. In the past thirty months our establishment has embalmed about 200 subjects. We arc still be hind the ancients in our work. In the main, a subject well treated will last three years. This is a fair average. It would be larger if it were not for occasional cases in which the antisep tic liquids seem to lose their efficiency. There is, however, adistinguished chem ist in Italy who claims to petrify a sub ject by using some silicate preparation. Though I have not seen the process em ployed, yet I have been shown speci mens which resembled petrifactions. “A second duty of the embalmer is the same as that of an undertaker, to make the subject as life-like and natural as poseible. There is a division in the profession^ Jtfsie point Sio-.e endeavor by art almost all the cu~.„„ ter . Lacs of life; others merely endeavor , 0 remove the disagreeable insignia ®#dea th- As for myself, I think proper to. e the marks of wounds, accidents ease. No art can take away the of death. Its excess makes more terrible by contrast. - ‘The embalmer runs the risk of ease and blood poisoning. A sal once preserved and treated is innocuous; but in the process the germs of the dis ease from which h e died are expel led in vast numbers in the Wood. The operator in such cases al " 1 tagion and is as apt to the surgeon. The however, can be who of con- poisoning ir as to these cases, iinst. Those out of ten ;ors, who call when they are not.” ris Amusement. amusement of Dom Pedro IL, jft Brazil, is to leave his gorgeous turnout in a side street, and, accompa- jried by a gray-haired chamberlain and a stalwart lifeguardsman, walk the dis tance of a square or more to a manufac tory or other establishment and surprise ‘ the proprietor and employees by his snd- den and unannounced appearance among them. Of course he is given the liberty of the establishment, and he takes his time in examining the machinery and modus operandi. With a kind word of encouragement and commendation, he goes away, perhaps to pay a similar visit to another establishment. These visits he' makes impartially to the mechanical and mercantile establishments, controlled' by foreigners as well as natives. Herald. The; her fatherl If a mai weather 1 Boston “My i will be marry 11 Ijjtvo mays prevent spoonj each other’s 1 Siftings.df- Bismarck since 1879. pounds, he v thirty years Ion The Boston? English editoa “Will Americ to the war stor grandfather. Naval officer^ their wives wit! The policy of foreign countrid Courier-Journal An exchang of a railroad ! Those we lral older, but appl Marathon Indep You will i the face of himl look of one wild cil, and is momei] will not be script. Beauty is not alar rank in life, but we want some'd young lady with a ] right who hasn’t Hirer Advance. One of the greatest^ lerving spectator who v aters playing Copenhagen j jubilee yesterday was toJ girls who fought so hard kissed played the didn’t have to.—Pittsburg Rather equivocal—G late in arriving at a soireej by a prominent Austin la strived he immediately ence, and having found ! beg a thousand pardons fd late.” “My dear sir,” replj “you eta never come too 1 thinks this is a hint to stsy^ gether.—Siftings. Life in Chili. There is a new hotel in Santiago, the capital of Chili, which is about com-/ pleted now at a cost of nearly a million dollars, and is by far the finest in Soufn America. In tip, pmeiiL. and ss-r^i m it is as gootl^as any in New York, and • the $5,000 a year cook will give you as good- ■ a dinner as Delmonico. The''" markets of Chili, too, are better than ,-those of other South American countries. The beef, mutton and other meats have the flavor which is only found in a tem perate climate; the fish are not so rank and course n3 those caught in tropical waters, and while vegetation is not so prolific the fruits of the earth have a finer fla or. You can find oysters here equal to those of New Orleans or Mobile, clams and lobster^, and plenty of beautL ful shrimps called “camerons.” ■ ■ The people claim that fires are nn- healthful, that they cause disease, and yet during the winter season colds are epidemic, pneumonia and kindred com- dred complaints rage, and the mortality from consumption is always very large. They wear the thickest sort of under clothing indoors and out, and sit shiver ing the whole winter through for fear a Are would poison the atmosphere. A man never takes off his overcoat when ho enters his house, but if he has "been ex- ercising generally puts on a thicker ong e ladies wear furs in their parion^f| liy in curiously made muffs of Uamu It looked very odd the other evening at a fashRmahte dinner party to ladies in full toilet, with low-necked and short sleeved dresses, wearing fur • lined mantles to the dinner table, an', poking their slippered feet into the mu! that had been placed in rows before the" chairs. The Chillanos are the Irishmen r.I South America, quick, keen, witty, i"” pulsive and reckless. They will fight r. the drop of tho hat, with anybody, fc any.cause and against any odds, and or £ always anxious for somebody to step r the tails of their coats. Their wit is proverbial, and is marked as their recklessness, the only country in South where comic papers these contain cartoons that would do credit to any < Chicago Inter-Ocean. A Remarkable Among the flints of the tioDS is occasionally. found one wide! 1, emits a clear musical Sound when struc’ wiih another flint. Tissandier tells of r. distioquished French musician, B. , laud re, who is a zealous collector -of these musical stones, and who has just ^ succeeded in making a unique “piano’J from them. In this instrument the flq are suspended by wires above ing-board, and are played upon other flints. The stones of the number twent; \
