The Covington star. (Covington, Ga.) 1874-1902, October 07, 1885, Image 1

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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.