Newspaper Page Text
ANDERSON & WALLIS, Proprietors
A HAYING SONG.
Drar the meadow floats the mist,
Bolling softly away;
Gp 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, ob, wakel it is time for hayingl”
Cows are lowing in haste to try
Pastures moistened with dew;
Swallows twitter, and brown bees fly,
Scenting the blossoms new.
Moadow larks, out of sight, repeat,
Over and over, “Sweet oh Sweet!
ssstssEEst.
Through the meadows the mowers tread,
With a sturdy stroke and true;
And oh I 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, hoi” 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.
—Emils Miller, in the Current.
AN EDITOR’S LUCE.
The editor of the Dorset Independent
mt in the back window of the editorial
rooms, looking rather despondent.
The Independent was six months old,
end 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
tlisy 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 cf the window
gloomily.
He had grown very fond of sitting in
the back window, the reason beintr that
it looked directly into Mr. Strow’s back¬
yard, and that Virginia Strew sat there
almost every afternoon with her book or
ewing.
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 , be had
grown into the habit of stepping fr m
the window aud joining her on he
bench under the grapevines.
She was sitting there now, with her
ncad bent over her work and the folds
of her white dross falling softly about
her.
I he editor coughed; Virginia looked
up and smiled; and the editor leaped
• rom the window with undignified
haste.
“Well,” said Virginia, laying down
ner work as he rat clown beside her,
“how are you getting along?”
“Badly!” said Eben, shaking his head.
“Two more subscriptions slopped
John Buiko, because I didn’t want to
take a bushel of beets, iusiead of money
—heels! and Mr. Heivitl, because I for
got to mention the cucumber that he
‘laid on our desk. I’m afraid the Inde
undent is going down hill. ’
“Dear me!” said Virginia, sympa¬
thetically. “If your uncle would only
step in and help you!” she added, wist
iully.
topic^ 3 He was'ratber mythical “he
rt,
Boston
But Virginia was fond of .neculatimr simulating
about him"
A. publisher, too!” she added, mus
ingly. ‘ ‘It would be exactly the thing
for you!”
“It would enable me lihind ’’
There was a nisUe them Vir
ginia held i ;!• a warning finger
■ .
been 6it;in<r in,be vud tl'the afternoon.
‘ '
look iri it “ er i here—Vercy. . here . he is. .
A head had projected itself above the
vin, s behind them, aud a hand clutched
st the branches.
’1 ieg 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.
W hat right had this person to be look
>ug at Virginia all the afternoon, and
*u thrust himself upon them in this
way?
M h, yes!” said tne stianger, blandly;
“so I was told. I In fact, I was anx¬
ious to make your acqua ntatice!”
1 fie grapevine snapped; the head dis
sppear d; there was a painfully-suggest
jar.
^ irginia peeped through a crack in
"he fence.
' There's a gate a little further down,”
• le said, politely. “Won’t you come
at”
“\ou are extremely kind,” was the
M poase, uttered in a grateful, apolo
-’otic way, which Eben could ase had ita
effect upon Virginia,
ffhc Couinoton Star
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 beside her.
tie was a tall, stout, rather florid young
man, with a face which the vast majori¬
ty would have pronounced handsome.
But Eben promptly decided that he
had always disliked that style of -rood
looks. &
“You are Mr. Hill, then?” said the
f‘'You been studying the Independent." «..i w In
dee d, he held a f th t ont terpns .
'
. , .
. , band , “l
lPe ln 118 am in the
‘
business myself, and am naturally inter
ested.”
He took a card from his pocket book
and gave ; t to Eben> “Ii. A. Coombs,
Boston,” was printed on it.
Eben did not respond.
lie 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 E! en, cold¬
ly, with a grim smile, as the vision of
the assistant rose before him.
But he felt that the fellow must be put
j down.
Of course he was not in the business:
lle hfld wanted a closer look at Virginia,
| and be bad ta ' ieu this wav of getting it
Because he was a country editor, he had
thought it would be easy to impose upon
him. s>
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 subeditor?” said Mr.
Coombs, politely. “If it would be con
venient,” he added, “I should like e.x
tremelv to go through the editorial
rooms And perhaps the young
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 welt that his
avowal had been interrupted.
“I am sorry,” he said, savagely, "hut
I can hardly spare the time at present.”
And he turned sharply and left them,
dropping Mr. Coombs’ card at a con
| spicuous stalked point in as he the went. front door of the
Tie at
j prinfinc office, almost knocking down
,]le freck,ed iia ' iistlu,t ’ who sat lbere
whittling? *nd straight to the back
window,
He could hear a steady murmur of
voices—Virginia's soft tones, mingled
with Mr. Coombs’ deeper ones,
casionallv they both laughed in ahighly
amused away.
straightened the shutter, an
1 looked through. There thev were, sit
i tin! ? rather clo9e t0 S ether on tho be .’
I Mr. Coombs bending toward Virginia,
! a,ld Vir S inift 9milin ^ up int ° hi ? faC f;
o’clock-4. The sound of their .
Three
voires cea8ed °f' en at and ,a8t ’ sb,d Ec hear . * ^ ht ‘
'
humming lightly she tripped . ,
Virginia as
I into tho se ’
. scttle
" Te! '’ of com ' s( ' ,bat ,nust U1
Tf ahe could ’ ,)efore h ' 9 verv eyes ’ en
j murage the bold advances of this person
I from Boston—who was undoubtedly an
jmposter—if she could laugh and talk
with him. as lie had believed she could
do with nobody hut himself, there was
but oue thing to conclude—that, for his
own peace of mind, he must give her up.
tl-ouJhToi Virginia! ho had trusted her
h ” “ -"" “
Bathe felt a rising hope, in spite of
hia roeo!vM “ 1,6 8at 5,1 hi8 USUa1 ^
’ ’
^ ^ afternoon with his paper and
,
pencil.
, He was trying to write up Lucilla
Bromplon's wedding for the next week’s
Independent. He had a list of the guests
before him, and a entire of the pres
ents and a box of the cake on the table
bes’de him ; ahd he was expected to get
.1.™..n. , .
But he felt his mind _ wandering ,.
1 lucil'a Brompfon’s triumphs to Virginia
atrew and her misdoings, and he stuck
his pencil behind his ear with a sigh.
Perhaps when she came out-she would
'SMml.h!beri4lv»t. be sure to come out—well, perhaps every
| He H. Zll. heai i a rastV nism mm h l»e grape- 6
vines present y. the dust off
There she was, blowing
the bench and switching her skirts to
one side preparatory to sitting down.
She looked up, and smiled and bowed
and Eben sprang up. with his foot o
the window-sill—and 8 ‘° P ^ d ? h °
For the little gate had opened ^ lth a
. Mr. C°°m
click, and the tall form of s
bad appeared in the act of bowin
The S editor sank back into his chair,
clo 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 •!««*.
Mr. Coombs had gone away after a
day two. and Eben had put a dit¬
or the *f
ting local in the Independent to had
feet that a Mr. Coomb#, of Boiton,
been “lighting our benighted village
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1885.
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
s eetues8; . , but . the , edltor had
1 " 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 advent 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 ° n the back of his head and one
’
hand ful1 of marbles . cume >“ presently
witb tbe
Eben’s mail was not usually heavy;
but to day there were two letters.
lie 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 paper*.
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
Q U t b y a thumb mark. r The ‘ small assist
ard rarely washed his hands,
Eben tore it open. It was headed,
i “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,
Y'es; there was a flutter of white
among the grape vines. She was there
at last.
He leaped from the window and flew
over to ber gide _
Virginia looked up from her work
with a smile, for all the world as though
not hing had happened.
“Bead that 1” said Eben, excitedly,
tossing the letter into her lap. “From
mv unc i e a t last!”
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
j 80 lf 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 eater
pillar on the edge of the bench. “I am
very glad!”
“Good gracious!” siid 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 sec here,” lie
added, in a subdued way, pointing to a
signature at the bottom of the page—
“‘Per LNiombs.’ That means he wrote it
for him. Was that—could that havs
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 jrst day. He is a relative
of the Grangers, and he was out here for
his vacation; and the senior partner of
the firm told him that if he came across
j ds nephew out here anywhere, he might
j e( p j m ku0W- Jjut if it hadn’t been for
nje be nevpr would have lot him know,
^
yyiiy, he didn’t know what to think of
you.”
“But you did!” said Eben, edging a
little closer to her on the bench.
^ hp wor(J u _ 0 , t the third finger of
Virginia’s left hand.
The Dor8et Mepelldent came to an un
timely eud shortly after.
But the very first letter which the ex
edilor wrote , 0 his fiance from Boston
con t a jned the following postscript;
.. Cooinl)8 st . ems t.. be a nice enough
f e n 0Wt B u t I have taken particular pains
t0 i et him know that we ate engaged.”
ill Exnellsd as Liars. ’
citizen .
A prominent o - - ’
^ ay J t ',o Meridian ' ’recently, and
,,p»» hi. row™ . *. -p^kuorg that “
k. W , * C “
town vvith the thermometer standing at
^ ninetv-eight degrees. It soon became a
* of the member.
f t in minds
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ nro , her B , an k had
dp „ enerated j„ to «„ able lmr. Charges
^ pferred against him, and a com
miUc0 of Me^dian church mem bers was appointed
to visit and convitit the erring
wther of lying. They went, saw the
B 'returning
^ raanu{actur edi a nd home
i0 reporled to a meeting of all the church
members. J antonishment on
the faces ofthe MM “° ed
way te.one o g ’ aDd
gave
Brother Blank am t e e
,
were incontinently erpe -
ehursh. New Orleans met.
There are at present in the l nited States
116 medical schools, and there is one
phj««*n to every oj j inhabitants.
QUEER SIGHTS IN CHIU.
a visit to *antlago-u* Palaces, c;»y
Mores and Pretty Women.
A letter from Chili to the New York
Sun says that, although the climate of
Santiago is about that ot Washington . or
c bt. , Louis, , the , people , have , a notion that
i- fires , in ■ their houses unliealthful, and ,
are
except in those which have been built
. by English n American residents, there ,
, or
is nothing like a grate or stoic te be
found. A ™ Everybody v j wears the warmest
sort a . of e underclothing ill. and , . hcavv wraps
” 1
. , ,
lu oi.^ am out, t . spend
an e people
six mmi f, o tie yt.ir in a porpetua
shiver, and the remainder in a perpetua
perspiration. It looks rather odd to sec
civilized people sitting in a parlor, sur
rounded by every possible luxury wealth
can luring, except lire, wrapped in tuis
an rugs, with blue noses and chatter
ing teeth, when coal is cheap and the
mountains are covered with timber.
But nothing can convince a Cbillano
that artificial heat is healthful, and dur
tbe w * n t er i which is the rainy sea-
80n > be baa not tb e wit to warm his
chilly bones.
It is odd to see in the streets men wear
ingfur caps, with their throats wrapped
in heavy mufflers, while the women have
nothing on their heads at all. During
the morning, while on the way to aud
from mass, or while shopping, the
women wear the “manta,” as they do
in Peru; but in the afternoon, on the
promenade or when riding, they go bare
headed. Although the prevailing dis
eases are pneumonia,and other throat and
lung complaints,and during the winter
the mortality from these causes is im
mense the Chillano persists in believing
that artificial heRt poisons the atmosphere,
and when he visits the home of a for
eigner and finds a fire he will ask that
the door be left ajar, so that he may
be as chilly as usual.
At fashionable gatherings, dinner par
ties and that sort of thing, I have seen
women in full evening dress, with hare
arms and shoulders, with the tempera
ture of the room between forty and
fifty Fahrenheit. They carry into the
saloon or dining room their fur wraps
and wear them at the table, while at
every chair is a foot warmer of thick
Llama wool, into which they poke their
dainty slippered toes. These foot
warmers are very ornamental, with em
broidered casus, and are manufac¬
tured at home or can be purchased of
the nuns, who spend much of their time
in needle work.
Every lady seen on the the street ln
the morning carries a prayer rug, often
haudsomelv embroidered, which she
kneels upon at mass to protect her limbs
from the cold, damp stone floors of the
churches, in which there are never any
pews. It used to be the proper thing to
have a servant follow my lady, bearing
her rug and prayer book, but that
fashion is no more.
The shops do not open until 9 or 10
o'clock o clock id in the tnemormm,, morning close oiose from irum 5 i to t
.I.™ th. proprietors and cSrk. to
shops are in the area es r P° > '
the Palais Rova in ans, an cse
brilliantly hg e vn 1 e eo nci y ev ry
night.. Here the Hsauti u a ies ga ler,
swarmimr aroun t e pre v goo s 1 e
bees around the owers, an
the hang u an lnP "
a so to stare a (o be
cons i ere |* ^ ii m ent a mark of
admiration, os o a woman here for
^ To these mVhtlv
entherines come all who have nothing
serious t”o detain them, and .h. flirtations
which ben-in here are the curse of the
women of Santiago The portales are
yonr glance, and while she may repulse
the cavalier, she will nevertheless boast
of the attention as a pronounced form of
flattery. ....... the
The shops are full of preUmst sort
of goods, the most expensive diamonds,
jewelry, and * ac( s- an 0
American posed are cities finex o than - canje^found ’ in
Santiagans boast that everything that
and one
true. There is plen v i n chili
,
an d the people have a refined taste and
i luxurious habits. Yfany o t e private
houi^s are psladam . sne am eququnerd,
an( ^ t01 et ^ '
But Ik. CMl.iio boll.to* .. not look..
«" **» “ '» «»
which ghp wear8 to mags
The eauina"es to be seen fn Santiago
of New York or Lon
^ • and the Alameda on pleasant after
tirou „ ed wit h handsome car
with 1;veried coachmen and foot
~
( , tra , Park or Rotten Bow
’
The Alameda ‘ ig 600 feet wide, with four
” ° f P P it ; d
£ . u leQgth across th c ity.
four ml1 from Santa Lucia to the Ex
position park and Horticultural , gardens. ,
In the center., a grand promenade.
while on either side is a roadway, 100
feet wide. The promenade is dotted
with a line of statues representing fa
moug men or cc , mm cmorau.!g famous
events in the history ot Chili, a country
w hich has assassinated or sent into exile
gome 0 f her noblest sons, but never fails
^ perpe tuate their memory ia bronze or
marble. On the Alameda from 8 to 5
o’clock every afternoon during the sea
j son, several military bands are placed a
intervals of a mile or so, and the music
; calls out all the population to walk or
: drive. , ■ _ During . the - - the
summer music is
- ... the . instead , of ,. the after
given in evening '
when , the portales deserted , , , , for
noon, are
i th .. ^ ut ' door , P r “ de -
1 Fronting the Alameda are the finest
al , . ^ «ty -nagnihcent t dvvell- , ,,
P ““ of “ carved sandstone, often 100
mgs 1 or
200 feet f , square! with ... the invariable . . * .
courtyard ....... patio the center, . with ...
or m
jta fountain and flowers. Houses which
CO st half a million to build and a quarter
of a millioo to furnish are common, and
th(jre are aomo which C08t much more .
The formcr residence of the late Henry
j 3i e j gg8) w ho lived here before he went
to i> erU) stands in the center of a block
goo f eet g q uar e, surrounded by a forest
0 f foliage and a beautiful garden. It is
oue 0 f B h e most conspicuous examples o
extravagance in Chili, having cost a
mint of money, every timber and brick
and tile being imported at enormous ex¬
pense. It is at present unoccupied and
in a state of decay, there being no one
since the death of Meiggs with the cour
agu or the moans to sustain so much
grandeur.
Santa Lucia is the most beautiful
place in all South America—the most
beautiful place I have ever seen. It is a
pile of rocks, a thousand feet high, cast
j n t 0 tbe center of the great plain, on
which the city stands, by some volcanic
agency. It was here that the United
States astronomical expedition of 1852,
under Lieutenant Gillis, had its head
quarters and made its observations. Be
fore that time, and as far back as tho
Spanish invasion, it was a magnificent
fortress, commanding the entire valley
with its guns, and tradition has it that
tbe king of the Arcuanians had his cas
tie here before the Spaniards came.
After the departure of the United States
expedition, Vicunac McCenna, a publia
spirited man of wealth in Santiago, un¬
dertook the work of beautifying the
place, and by the aid of private sub
scriptions, with much of his own means,
sought ail the resources that taste could
suggest and money reach to improve on
nature's grandeur. His success was com
piete. A million dollars or more b.as
made the rocks a paradise; winding
walks and stairways, parapets and bal
conies, grottoes aud flower beds, groves
0 f trees and vine hung arbors follow one
another from the base to the summit,
wliile upon the west at the edge of a
precipice eighteen hundred feet high, is
a miniature castle and a lovely little
chapel. Below the chapel, three or four
hundred feet on the opposite side of the
hill, is a level place on which a restau
rant and outdoor theatre have been
erected. Here on summer nights come
tho population of the city to eat ices,
drink beer, and laugh at the farces
which are played upon the streets, while
bands of music and dancing make the
people e t merry. This is the resort of the
, .
-------
An Incident in Grant's Career.
Oem-ral Thomas 8. Dockery tells an in
cident in t j IB career of the dead com
mandftr indicative of General Grant's
feeling and 8ympath y {or any one in
trouble, whether friend or enemy. On
^ aftar the rletAWous general
bafi cn,1( l ,lercd Vicksburg, a sweet-faced
wo,nan ’ who8e feltu,e3 showed that she
W “ 8 ” tTenn S m ' lch ,inx,et y of ™ ,nd ’
r* 6 h Z WR ; f- ^ Bhe sa,d was t0
Mrs. Dockery, wife of General Dockery,
who was then a prisoner of war in \ leks
burg. The lady desired to know whether
her husband was dead, dying or in irood
health and wished a pass to enter the
exty. This pass could not be given bu*
General Grant hastily penned a letter to
General Pemberton, who had charge of
^ of war within the city>
^ - mmcdiate into ,. mation con .
cerning General Dockery. During the
mpssRnger - s ab3ence Mr , Dockery was
completely overcome by 'd her anxietv for
h#r husband . g fate, an wept bitterly,
Gr “'- «■ -~
C1 '°wded with generals and aides, turned
hlA attention to the weeping woman, and
the teuderest manner possible at
temj)ted to console her with bright hojies
thather husband was alive and well.
When the messenger returned with the
^ Dooke.y
aliva ,od would ,o„„ Join J hi. .11., th,
brave commander was apparently as
, happy ,, -^TulmformaUcm , , - , as
w “ , f f h,ul m e ' De heartily con
f atulatad her - and lhen wrote a ! ,8S9
° r herSe1 ^ f“ d a Ir ’ ' V ” , S **’ a °'
«>mpani^d her safely f , through the l mon
^or the gentle and feehng man
ner in which General Grant treated her,
>Irs Docker v ha8 nev « r cea8 ® d to b ' e88
-
the brave , man who today will be U.d in
his last resting place .—New ) ork World,
--------
It has been decided that a naval cadet
w h 0 throws kisses at a girl is guilty of
ungentlemanly conduct. Quite right.
He should carry them to her aud place
them gently on her lips.—Gaff,
—-———— -
The tomato is I cing introduced into
Turkish gardens, where it goes as tin
red egg plant.
VOL. XL NO, 47.
THE ART OF EMBALMING.
Ttao modern Process of Preserving
Head »I oil if*.
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 entbalmer. 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¬
balmers, aud who know a smattering of
the art, but they are unworthy the
name. Beal embalmers are few in num
ber, there not being more than ten in
the 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 zinci
and the iodide and chloride of that
metal. 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 vears. 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 contain
ing the antiseptic fluid, is applied. The
process requires from two to four hours,
The na tural movement of the circuln
tion is followed. As the fluid enters
the blood vessels the blood is forced
0 ut. 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
lbe cost of the process is from
"P"ard. Embalming grows more com
mo _ ™ pvpr _ Tn thp nast thirtv
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, a distinguished chem
i„t in Italy who claims to petrify a sub
ject by using some silicate preparation,
Though I have not seen the process em
ployed, yet 1 have been shown speci-j
mens which resembled petrifactions.
“ A second dut y of of the undertaker, embalmer is |
same as that an to
make the subject as life-like and natural
j ftg possibie. There is a division in the
profession at this point. Some endeavor
b y art to restore almost all the character
igt i C8 of life: others merely endeavor to j
remove the disngreeableinsignia of death
As for myself, I think proper to conceal ;
the marks of wounds, accidents or dis
ea8e . No art can take away ; the horror.
of deafh . It8 excess raak s death th .
mof(; terrib[e b contraat . j
“The embalmer runs the risk of dis
ease and blood poisoning. innocuous; A subject
once preserved and treated is of the dis
but in the process the germs
8UC h cases always run the risk of con
tagion and infection. Blood poisoning
is as apt to occur to the embalmer as to
fhesurgeon. The danger in all these cases,
S^^ucted are nine Umes out of te”
ignorant ,L,u«h.. funeral directors, who call
ornb.Im.,. »tau tLoj.tonol.”
*. IW* Sm.
-
An Emperor’s Amusement
A favorite amusement of Dom Pdroe
IL , of Brazil, is to leave his gorgeous
turnout in aside street, and, aceompa
nied by a " ray haire<1 chamberlain and a
stalwart iifegttardsman, walk the dis
tance of a square or more to a manufae
tory or other establishment and surprise
the proprietor and employees by his and
den and unannounced appearance among
them. Of course he is a,fd given the liberty
of .he establishment, he take, hi,
t{me ia examining the mac hinery and
modus operand i. With a kind word of
encourageme ut; and commendation, he i
away> perhaps to pav a similar visit
to another establishment. These visits
he makes impartially to the mechanical
and mercantile establishments, controlled
by foreigners as well as natives .—Chicago
Usrald.
AN INNUIT’S BREAKFAST.
Early Morning Scenes in an
Esquimaux Home.
Lieutenant Schwatka Describing the Pre¬
liminaries to an Arctic Journey.
In an article on the routine of arctic
life, printed in the New York Times,
Lieutenant Schwatka says: When
the first Innuit (as the Esquimaux call
themselves) opens his eyes in the arc¬
tic regions about 4 or 5 o’clock in the
morning, if it be a spring sledge jour¬
ney—and most of the journeys are un¬
dertaken in that season—he will find
it breaking day or possibly the sun is
an hour or two high in the eastern ho
rison, and the daylight pouring
through the thick walls of his house
of snow (igloo) almost as freely at it
would penetrate the walls of a cauvas
tent. He knows about what time it is
even in his little closed eggshell-like
house of snojv, and if he has any
doubts about it, thinking that an over¬
cast morning might deceive him, he
trusts a suow stick (a small edged
stick about the size of a policeman’s
club, used for beating the snow off
reindeer clothing and beddings)
through the top of the snow dome and
takes a peep at the sky overhead to
satisfy himself as to his conjectures.
Thinking it is time to begin the day’s
labors he awakens his wife, and with
a solacing yawn or two turns in be
tween the reindeer skins again for a
short nap until breakfast is ready,
Among the most energetic of the
northern race I never saw any of them
do any work befove the morning mea j
beyond the labor necessary to prepare it.
The lady of the , on0 uorth land faav
, di d Qf faer Umi morn .
lng yawns dre88e8 herself so far as put
. ting on , her inner . reindeer . _ suit (the
v
Esquimaux „ , , have two , suits, .
an inner
and ou ter,) sits ala Tut a on the re in
deer blanket at the head of the bed
and prepares the lamp. This Esqui
mau lamp might well be compared in
®b8pe to the half of a clam shell sup
ported on three upright sticks about
Hie size of carpenter’s pencils stuck in
the snow. The shallow dish is filled
with seal or walrus oil, which is kept
in a sealskin bag, and when it is near¬
ly ready to run over the low flat edge
of the clam shell the Esquimau wom
an takes a little bit of moss from a
compact variety that grows on the
stones near the water, and rubbing it
in her hands, like some smoker prepar
ing a pipe of tobacco from the whit
tlings of a plug, she strings this ma
terial along the edge of the lamp just
where the oil touches it and then sets
f} r0 w jth a match. This is the
wicking of this strange lamp The
flame is about as high as that emitted
bv by a a kerosene kerosene lamt> lamp and and extends extends along alomr
the flat edge of the lamp from six
to two loot. Ove, .hi. „
to that of the flame, and holding from
quart to a gallon and a half. This
half tilled with water, and then a lot
of reindeer or seal or walrus meat is
placed in it, generally in chu i about
the size of the double fist. About
three to four pounds of meat is provi
ded for each grown person. The wa
ter simmers about an hour, when the
flesh Is thoroughly cooked, although
the water never boils in the stone let
tles . All the slumberers are awalc
ened , and the preparations for break
fH8t conBist in their.simply sitting up
right and put tmg 0 n their undergai
ments of reind eer skins. A ladle mad*
from the hom of the musk ox or a tin
' is supplied J to each guest. It is
apab , Q mAiag four or flye of thesa
f . “ ‘ v ^ ,, dS !
tppth ^ into lhe oneof e f the PrS steaming « ach fa9tens f pieces ,l! of *
” lbn i ’ *“ 1 one a n'. w ' ,!
with the other . he severs the seized
portion with a sharp knife, and after
a few mastications bolts it, and renews
cut downward to avoid slicing off the
tip of his nose. After the meat has
disajipeared the soup left in the kettle,
and w j,y e j 1 becomes a very rich meat
tea by the simmering proce.ss, is appor
tioned amon^ the guests, giving each
„ qu.rt, »l,oo provi,to,is an
plentiful. lu winter this soup is
made as oleaginous as possible, and 1
have seen two inches ot pure melted
fatswimmingonthetopofitdevour
ed with great eagerness. The moru
ing meal having been disposed of the
toilet is completed by the party in put
ting on the outer suit of reindeer
clothes. The head of the house then
issues from h is hut and announces the
state of the weather. If it is fhir the
P nar afty t v nrenares pr epares for i for thp the r'av's i. aysymmey. iournev
Horned toads are selling at 50 cento
apiece in California, and large mini
b«s are seea East ^ curiosities,
They are harmless, and can be hand
led with impuuity They are cheap
to keep, living six months on two
house flies.