The Ellijay courier. (Ellijay, Ga.) 1875-189?, November 30, 1877, Image 1

The Ellijay courier., November 30, 1877, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextELUJAYJIRIEB. PUBLISHED EVUY FRIDAY. Terms, #1.50 Per Annum J. C. ALLEN, Editor and Proprietor. NOVEMBER. Whe* tiii* tie-blows do lightly float About the rapture-height, And sariUs the hawk a parting note. And creeps the frost at night, 1 hen hilly ho! though singing sc. And whistle as I mar, There comes again the old keart-pain Through all the livelong day. In high wind creaks the losfljss tree And Dods the fading fern ; The knolls are dun as snow-cloods be, And cold the t>un does hum. Then ho, hollo: though calling so, 1 can not keep it down, The tears arise urto ray eyes, And thoughts are still and brown. Far in the cedars’ dusky stoles, Where the sere ground-vine weaves, The partridge dn'nis funereal rolls Above the fal'en leave , And hip, hip ho > though cheering so, It stills uo whit the pain ; For drip, urip, drip, irora branch-tip, I hear the yea* s 1 rat rain. 80 drive the cold cows from the hill, And call the wet sheep in; And let their stamping clatter All The barn with winning d’n. And ho, folk, uo ! though it is so That we no more .nay roam, We still will find a cheerful mind Around the fire at home! —C. L Cleveland. LOST AND FOUND. I was a youug doctor, not overburdened with practice, ivben I sat half-dozing in my surgery, and [was rouse'’ by a bustle in the street, and a cry: “ Here’s a doc tor ; ring the bqll 5” By the time the bell was answered I was wide awake, and had my professional expression on. Two men came in, and one held in his arms a limp, senseless figure, a boy about three years old, cov ered with blood flowing from a gash in his head. I took the little fellow in ray own arms and carried him to the sofa, while the men brought me water, and seemed deeply interested in all my move ments. A broken arm and the deep cut on the head kept me bu3y some time, but at last my little patient wa3 made as comforta ble as possible, and was moaning with re covering consciousness. .* .j,,.. “ Have you far to carry him ?” 2 asked of one of the men. “We don’t own him!” was an swer. “He was running across the street, and a horse kicked him over. Jim, here,” indicating his companion, “he picked him up, and I came along to help find a doctor, ’cause Jim can’t read.” “ Needn’t a shoved that in!” growled. Jim. turning red “Poor little chap; how he groans!” “ I will give him something to quiet him, presently,” I Slid, “ and will send word to the station house if his name is not on his clothes.” The men departed, and I lifted my charge once more, and went up-stairs to my mother’s room, over the surgery. It did not take many minutes to enlist her ByznDathies, and We undressed the child and put him in her wide bed, hoping to find some mark upon his cfothiDg. There was none, and when I saw this I spoke frankly, “ Mother, there is just one chance for the little fellow’s life, and that is perfect quiet. He will have fever, probably be delirious, and to cany him to a hospital, or even to his own home, may be fatal. I will send word to the station house, and then M “ You know I will nurse him, John,” my mother said. “If his mother comes, she must do as she thinks best { but, until that time does come, leave him to me.” I wrote a description of the child’s long brown curls and brown eyes, of the delicate suit of clothes in which he was dressed, and sent it to the station-house. No call being made in three days, I advertised him for a week, and still he was not claimed. It was very strange, for the child’s pure delicate skin and dainty clothing seemed to mark him as tbc child of wealth. But while he lay unknown, my little patient was struggling hard for life against fever ana injuries. He was delirious for many days, calling pitifully for “ Mamma—pretty mamma! ” begging her not to go away, and making our hearts ache by often crying, “ Oh, Aunt Lucy, don’t beat Freddie ! Freddie will be good 1 ” or, “ Grandma, grandma, don’t! don’t!” in cries of extreme terror. Mother would get so excited with indig nation over those cries that I saw the child had won a fond place in her warm heart. He has been ill-treated, John, the pretty darling! ” she would say. “ I hope the cruel people who could hurt such a baby will never find him again.” She would rock him in her own motherly arms, would spend sleepless nights watching beside him, petting and fondliDg him till he seemed even in his delirium to know her love, and would nestle up to her for protection against the phantoms of his own levered imagin ation. The second week of his stay with us was closing, and Freddie had regained his reason, and was on the road to re covery, when one morning a carriage dashed up to my door, and two ladies alighted. They wore rustling silks of the latest fashion, and were evidently mother and daughter. The young lady was very beautiful, a perfect blonde, and dressed in exquisite taste. “Dr. Morrill?” inquired the elder lady. I nodded. > “We called in answer to an ad vertisement regarding a child, my grand son. You will probably think it strange we have not been here before, but we were obliged to leave town the day be fore he was lost, and have just returned. The nurse who had him in charge ran away, and, while we supposed him safe ao home, he has been lying in a hospital, perhaps dying.” •' We were nearly distracted on our return,” said the young lady, “ when we missed our darling; but an inquiry at the station-house sent us here. The officer also showed us your advertise ment. Where is our dear child ? ” “ He is here,” I answered, “ dnder my mother’s care, and, I am happy to say, doing well.” An unmistakable look of disappoint ment crossed the faces of my visitors, but the elder one said, “ Can we see bim, doctor?” I asked permission to announce their coining to my mother, and lett the ladies alone. When I returned, alter five minutes absence, I was struck by the change in their faces. The younger one was pale as ashes, and the elder one had THE ELLIJAY COURIER. VOLUME 11. a set, hard look of determination, as if nerved by some sudden resolution, I led the way to my mother’s bedroom where Freddie was in a profound slum ber. The young lady shrank back in the shadow of the bed’ curtains, but the mother advanced and bent over the child. There was a moment of profouud silence; then in a hard voice, the old •dyaaid: “I am very sorry to have put you to so much trouble, Mr. Mor rill. This is not the child we lost.” A heavy fall startled ns, and I turned to see the young stranger senseless on the floor. Her mother spoke quickly, “the disappointment is too much for her. We so hoped to find my grandson. ” I did not reply. The delirious ravings of the child were still ringing in my ears as he pleaded with the harsh grandmother and aunt. I did not believe the old lady’s statement, but, having no proof to the contrary, was forced to accept it. Long after my visitors had departed, the beautiful blonde still trembling and white, mother and I talked ot their strange conduct. “It ia evident they wish to deny the chdd, ” I said. “ I am glad of it, ” mother replied. “We will keep him, John. He shall have a grandma to love, not one to fear. ” So the summer and early autumn wore away, and Freddto was dear to us as if he had claim to kinship. His rare beauty, his precocious intellect and his loving heart had completed the fascina tion commenced by our pity for his suf fering weakness and loneliness. He called us “ Grandma ” and “ Uncle John, ” and clung to us with the most affectionate caresses. We tried in vain, from his childish prattle, to gain seme clue to his parentage or relatives. He told us his papa had gone “ far, far off, ” and mamma had “ gone to papaso we concluded he was an orphan, and I often heard mother telling him of the beautiful heaven whbre his parents waited for their little boy. Of his grandmother and Aunt Lucy he spoke with shrinking fear, and seemed to have an equal dread of Susan, whom we judged to be the nurse. Susan was talking to a tall man, he told us. who boxed his ears and told him to go home, when, trying to escape, he ran under the horse’s hoofs and was hurt. Being blessed with ample means, mother and I had quite decided to formally adopt pretty Freddie when he had been a little longer unclaimed in our house. The convalesce ice of the child requiring freeh air without boo much exercise, I made a habit of taking him with me in my daily drives to frlsit my patients. Dennis, my coachman, was very fond of Freddie, and very useful; so I was not afraid to leave my little charge with him while I was indoors, and he was very happy chatting with the good natured Irishman, and waiting my com ing. It was early in November, and mother had dressed Freddie for the first time in a jaunty suit of velvet, with a dainty velvet cap over his brown curls, when one morning I sent him ont with Den nis until I was ready to start. Looking out, I saw him standing'on the pave ment, giving Nat, my horse, a long carrot he had procured in the kitchen, wh ;l e Dennis stood near, guarding the curly head from any mischief. I was making my final preparations for departure, when I heard a piercing scream under my window, and Dennis sayinsr, “By jabers, she's fainted, the crathei 1 ” While Freddie cried, “Mamma, pretty mamma! ” I ran out hastly, to see an odd tab leau. Dennis was supporting in his strong arms a slender figure in deep mourning, half leaning on the shafts, while Freddie clung to her skirt, sobbing, “ Mamma, mamma.” A few passers-by stood near, making various suggestions, and Nat looked gravely over Dennis’ shoulder, as if he cauld say a great deal if he had the in clination. “ Briog her in, Dennis,” I said. “ I’ll do that same, sure,” was the reply, as Dennis lifted the little figure, like a feather-weight, and crossing the pavement, came into the surgery. I shut out the curious people who followed and Freddie clung fast to the black dress, never ceasing his loud cries of “ Oh, mamma 1 It is my mamma come home to Freddie. Mamma—pretty mamma! ” The sound rang through the house, reaching my mother’s ears, as she sat in her room. She came hurrying down the stairs and entered the surgery just as Dennis deposited his burden in an arm-cbair. Comprehending the situation at a glance, mother tenderly removed the crape veil bonnet, loosening a shower of brown curls round a marble-white face, still insensible. “ You see, sur,” said Dennis, “ Master Freddie was just giving the horse the last of the carrot, and war running up and down, when the poor crather threw up her veil, gave one screech, and would have fallen to the ground if the shafts and I hadn’t cotch her atween us. Do you think, sure, it’s his mother ?” At this moment the stranger opened a pair of large eyes, and murmured, in a faint voice: “Freddie! Did I see my boy?” Then her eyes fell upon the child, and in a moment she was on her knees before him, clasping him to her heart, kissing him, and sobbing over him, till mother broke out crying, too, and I was obliged to assume my professional expression by mere force of will. “ Come, come,” I said, gently, “ Fred die has been very ill, and can not bear so much excitement.” This quieted the mother in an instant, and she rose, still holding the child’s hand in her own. “ It is my boy,” she said, looking into my face. “Freddie,” I asked, “is this mam mat” “ Yes, ” said the little fellow, decidedly, “of course it is. My own pretty mamma, come from heaven. ” She reeled back at the innocent words, and would have fallen had I not caught ! her, and put her once more in the arm chair. " “ Come from heaven ! ” she repeated, with aahv lips and gasping breath. “They told me he was dead. My boy, my Freddie—that he was run over and killed. The nurse saw him fall under the horse’s feet. ” “Error Ceases to be Dangerous When Reason is Left Free to Combat It."—-Jefferson. ELLIJAY, GEORGIA, NOVEMBER 30, 1877. “ But you see he was not killed. ” mother said, in a gentle tone, “but is well and strong again. ” And then, motioning me to keep silent mother told the story of the child’s in juries and recovery, of his winning way and our love for him. “ And you kept him and nursed him 1 ” she said, kissing mother’s hand. “Oh, what can I ever do for you to prove my gratitude? Freddie, my boy, no.v you must love this kind lady I ” “ Yes, ” assented Freddie, “ that’s grandma and this is Uncle John, ” and 1 was dragged forward. “ I cannot understand it at all, ” the mother said. “ Did no one know ho was here—my mother-in-law ? Will you let me tell you,” she added, looking at mother and myself, “ how my boy was tost?” “If you will drink this firs ,” I said, giving her a quieting beverage. She obeyed at once, and, taking off Freddie's cap, lifted him to her lap while she told her story. When we saw the two fair faces so close together, any lingering doubt we might have had of the stranger’s claim vanished at onoe- Even in parent and child, the resem blance between the woman and her boy was wonderful. The same brown hair and eyes, the same delicate features and complexion ; the same childlike expres sion marked both countenances. Even to the pallid, wasted leok of recent suf fering, the resemblance was perfect. “ I must tell you first who I am,” our visitor said. “ I am the widow of Col. West, who died of cholera in Liverpool only two weeks ago. He was taken ill in July, and I was telegraphed to come to him. We had parted, she added, turning to mother, “ because his business had called him to Liverpool, and he was afraid to have Freddie and I go there on account of the cholera. But when I heard he was ill I went to him at once, leaving my boy with my husband’s mother and sister. I knew they were not very fond of him, but I had no choice. I dared not take him to Liver pool, with the cholera raging there and I had nowhere else to leave him. I found' my huiband very ill, but he was recovering, when he had a relapse. He rallied from that and took cold, I think, or ovrr-fatigued himself, bringing on a second relapse that proved fatal. During all his illness 1 heard only twice from Freddie- once that lie was well, once that he had been killed in the street. I came home only two days ago, and they would tell me nothing of where he was buried—nothing but the bare fact of his death. I—l—oh, do not blame me I—l was on the way to the river to end it all when I met Freddie.” Mother looked at me and whispered, “The grandmother who beat Freddie has driven her mad. Let her stay with me while you try ttf find but sbrnetatfij*' about her.” “ But I have no right to force myeeli into her private affairs,” I said. “ She is Freddie’s mother. That gives you a right.” It would be too tedious to tell in de tail all the loDg conversation that fol lowed ; but authorized by Mrs. West I called upon her husband’s lawyer, and there heard her story. “ I think,” the lawyer said, confiden tially, “ that the Wests are the proud est people I ever knew, proud of their family, their money end their beauty. Carroll West was the only son, Lucy the only daughter. When the old man died he left a considerable fortune, but Car roll has increased his share to an im mense wealth. His mother was very desirous of having him make a great match, and proportionately lurious when he married a little, dark-eyed seamstress, of no family in particular, and working for a living.” I thought of the exquisite face, the low, tender voice of Freddie’s mamma, aud mentally applauded Carroll’s choice. “ Cerroll,” continued the lawyer, “had sufficient goad sense to keep his own estab'ishment until he went into a nearly wild sp culation that called him to Liverpool at the height of the cholera. Then he left his wife and children under his mother’s care, and, before he went, made his will. Now, doctor,” said the lawyer, speaking very slowly, and with ma'rked emphasis, “ his will leaves half his fortune, to his wife, half to his child; but in case of the death of the child, the half that is his goes to Mrs. West and her daughter Lucy. If the mother dies, all gees to the cnild, to revert again to the West’s, if he dies without heirs. Do you see ?” I did tee. I saw again the hard, determined face leaning over the sleeping child, denying him ; the weaker woman sanctioning the deceit, but falling sense less in the room. I understood now the disappointment that had greeted the tidings of that child as neither dead nor dying, but recovering. It was all clear to me now, but I shudde.ed as I recalled the mother’s face waen she confessed she had contemplated suicide rather than bear her widowed, childless lot. We could never tell whether the un natural grandmother and aunt would have risked a legal investieat.on. The recognition of mother and child was complete, and the clothing we had care lessly preserved was fully identified. Mrs. West did not return to her mother-io law. For some weeks she was my mother’s guest, my patient, being pros trated with a low, nervous fever, and then she took the house next to our own, her own claim to Freddie’s and to Car roll West’s property being undisputed. We were warm friends for two years, and Mrs. West, senior, with the beauti ful blonde, were occasional visitors at the widow’s house; but when the violet and white took the place of grape and b imbazine I ventured to ask Adelaide West if a second love could comfort her for the one she had lost, and my mother became Freddie’s grandmother in truth, when his “pretty mamma” became my wife. Mrs. West is dead, and Lucy married to a titled Italian, who admired her blonde beauty, but, unlike many of bis compatriots, finds the lovely ltdy fully able to take care of her own interests and guard her money against his too profuse expenditure. Other children call me papa and Adelaide mamma, but Ido not tbiok I give any of them a warmer or truer love than I feel for .brown-eyed Freddie, who was “ Lost and Found.” RELIGIOUS. All Thlact Work flr 4*004, " All things work together tor good to them that ore God.”— Romani, 8:28. Mid t the thousand gems oTproratse Studded o’r the sacred pag*, One there is whose uuoimm.m lustre Brightly gleams from age to age; Like a "train of sweetest m isic— In the Christian's troubto&inood— Come the words of hope ami jpoui fort, All things work for good, i All things, whether joy ofsttineee, H alth or sickness, loss knd gain. Days of gloom or days of (rightness, Nigh's of weariness and n&in, All are but the rough matemla In the MHatei*workmaD’s'and, And shall form a glorious huDdln b * r Evermore to stand. AU that seems to thwart imfcwkjiular In the journey of our life, /J Swollen streams and rugge i Foes to meat *n ©on* taut stiujftr- * Shall but makaus stronger, W a for,; if notorious through we came— And however rough the pathway, Still it leadeth home. In a rich and glowing palntlhl, Which admiringly we view, Mixed with shades of brighter color There are those of somber kge; So whene’er the finished picture Of our earthly course we see, We shall only find the shadow Were 'twas best to be. ’Tis the beating of the temped Makes the oak so firmly stand ; fThen it strikes its roots more ffeeply, Clinging closer to tho land , And shall we, when storms ate raging Murmur if tho wintry blast Unto Him whose (inns support us Make us cleave more fast ? ’Tis the battle makes the nolditr More than peaceful times nf ease; ’lls the storm that makes tht*aailor More than calm, untroubled seas ; And if we, when sorely tempted, bhali with courage still endure. Victory, when we’re next a<Mtlted v\ ill be made more sure. 8o when, like a fleeting vlsloW, Earthly things have passed away, And before the King of Glory We are met in glta array, All that now seems painful mystery Will be clearly understood And we shall with joy acknowledge All things worked for good —H. Robson, in London BajHisf, - ■ ■ ■ ■ t NandaySehoel Lewom. FOUETH QUARTER, 187*. Nov. H—Paul before Afrippa - Acts 26: 6*2i> mov. 18—Almost Persuaded. Acts 26:21-2y Nov. 2ft—Paul in the tttorm Acts 27:14 26 Dec. 2—The Deliverance Acts 27:33 41 Deo. 9- Paul in Atelita Acts 2k: i-|ii Dec 16— Paul at Home Act2K:ltt-3i Deo. 23-Paul’s Last Words 2Tim>4; M Dec. 30 — lie view, or lesion selected by the school. Reunion lu Heaven. Life, all kinds of life, tend* to compan ionship, and rejoices in it, from the larvae and buzzing insect cloud up to the kingly lion and the kinglier man. It is a social state inte which we are to be introduced, as well as a state of consciousness. Not onlv, therefore, does the Savior pray lor His disciples, “ Father, 1 will that those whom Thou hast given Me be with Me where I am, that they wfsy behold My glory,” but these who are ir.Arfta heavenly recompense are said to have come “ to the general assembly and church of the first-born written in Heaven.” Aye, and better than that, and dearer to some of us, “ to the spirits ot just men made perfect.” The recognition of departed friends in Heaven, and special and intimate reunion wit them, scripture and reason enable us to infer with almost absolute certainty. It is implied in the fact that the resur rection is a resurrection of individuals, that it is this mortal that shall put on immortality. It is implied in the fact that Heaven is avast and happy society ; and is implied in the fact that there is no unclothing ot nature that we possess, only the clothiDg upon it of the garments of a brighter and more glorious immor tality. Take comfort, then, those of you in whose history the dearest charities of life have been severed by the rude hand of death; those whom you have thought about as lost are not lost except to present sight. Perhaps even now there are angel watchers, screened by a kindly providence from everything about that would give you pain ; but if you and they arealiko in Jesus, an remain faithful to the end, doubt not that you shall know them again. It were Btrange, don’t you think, it amid the multitude ot earth’s ransomed ones that we are to see in heaven, we should see all but those who we most fondly and fervently long to see? Strange if, in some of our walks along the golden streets, we never happen to light upon them? Strange, if we did Bot near Borne heaven song, learned on earth, trilled by some clear-ringiDg voice that we have often heard before “l—Dr. IF. M. Pun ikon. The Tears or Christ. From three passages of Scripture we learn that Jesus wept, when He was with us upon earth, three separate times; twice-did He shed team for the woes of others, and once.for Himself. At the death of Lazarus, Jesus wept. When He looked upon the Holy city and knew of the woes that would befall her, He wept; and in the garden of Gethsemane, in agony of soul and body at the trial which awaited Him, the God again shed bitter tears. * * * * The three occasions when the tears of Jesus are recorded happened during the latter part of His life upon eartb. First, the tears came from sympathy with our sins; second, from pity for our sins; and third, for the awtulness of sin. We doubt not that Jesus wept when He went up the steep path of Calvary, and when He saw the bitter tears of those whom He loved the chords of His sym pathetic heart were swept with grief, and tears of pity feil from the eyes of the Son of Goa. Jesus seated upon His throne loves just as he loved then, and He is just as human, because He is just as divine. Again, Jesus shed tears of pity for the sinner. Scarcely three months had passed since the miracle of Lazarus baa stirred the little village when Mary, prompted by marvelous sympathy, annointed Jesus for His burial. “ The whole multitude of dis ciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen. And when - He was come dear and beheld the city He wept over it." It was the suffering of a strong man that bade the hosannas cease, at Betbany a tear of sympathy, at Olivet a wail from the heart’ of Jesus, but here He saw with prophetic eye what no one else could see. 'lhe city besieged by the Roman armies and given over as a prey. He had pleaded with the hard-hearted people of the city. He knew that he was to be murdered there. Oh! the compassion, the tenderness of Jeeus, so deep and so wonderful that it is represented as tire yearning of a mother for her child. He yearned for their confidence and their trust even as He yearns to-day for all mankind.— Rev. IF. F. Steve nton. Wha It U So Brar the Cm Let us have a true understanding ol what bearing the cross is. He after whom Simon bore the cross is now far above all woe aod weariness aud pain, and needs no beln or comfort of ours. We cannot even follow him in person, as he called the rich young man to do. It is in heart and spirit, in life and con versation,.that we are to bear the cross, not in an outward or bodily way. True, even outwardly the cross Is a Christian symbol. But should the cross be made an ornament of the person? Should the symbol of redemption, the likeness of the cross of Calvary on which the Lord of glory died for our souls, be put on just as a brooch or bracelet ia put on, and dangle from the neck amid dance and song and light-hearted mirth? Is this seemly or right? Is it not rather a paintnl parody on the bearing of the cross ? Is not the cross too often thus born when the mind of the bearer is still vain and frivolous, and there is no bearing of the cross in the lionrt or life ? The true tearing of the cross after Jesus is to follow Him, in faith and love, through all that His service leads us to; to give up all that He requires to be given up; to undertake cheorlully what ever He calls us to; to be willing for Him to sutler shame and loss, to bo mocked, despised, disliked, persecuted ; to submit cheerfully to all His dealings; to surrender our will to HIS will. An outward and formal tearing of the cross is easy indeed; such a bearing of it ns this is not easy ; nay, not possible for us, unhelped. Yet this is what onr I xml calls us to, and He Himself will give us help and strength. His grace is sufficient for us.— Rev. F. BoHidilton SCIENTIFIC NOTES. The belief that fish is especially adapted to feed the brain, and that fisln eaters are therefore more intellectual than the average, does not find much favor with Dr. Beard. He says that this “delusion is so utterly opposed to chem istry, to physiology, to history, and to common observation, that it is very naturally almost universally accepted by the American people. It was started,” he adds, “by the late Prof. Agassiz, who impulsively, and without previous con sideration, apparently, as was his wont at times, made a statement to that effect before a committee on fisheries of the Massachusetts lfigislature, The *t*t*- ment was so novel, so oneside*(T; aftd To untrue, that it spread like the blue-glass delusion, and has become the accepted creed of the nation.” On the question whether birds hiber nate, we have received from Mr. L. 8. Abbott, of Reading, Michigan, a com munication in which he states an obser vation made by hifnwlf, which goes to show that at least Borne birds do hiber nate. While living in the backwoods of Ohio, our correspondent often noticed the swallows toward evening circling around the top of a sycamore-tree, in the hollow of which they would soon disap pear. To determine whether the birds remained within the tree during the win ter, Mr. Abbott had the tree cut down seme time after the beginning or the cold season. The swallows were found within, clinging t the shell of the tree, stiff, motionless, and to all appearance in a state of suspended animation. The tree was hollow from the ground up, and the swallows were attached to the shell along its whole length. A singular instance of hereditary is recorded in a note front M. Martinet to the Phi is academy of sciences. In 1871 several chickens on a farm held by the author were affected with polydactyliam. having n supernumery claw. This had been transmitted to them by a five clawed cock raised on the same farm a year or two before. The type was propa gated rapidly until in 1873 an epidemic ravaged the poultry-yard. At present, without any selection, this variety is very numerous; it has been propagated among neighboring farms throughout the exchange of eggs by farmers; if noth ing interrupts its progressive increase, it promises ere long to be predominant. The peculiarity was not so perfect at first as it is now; the modification has been going on progressively. Simultaneous Contrast of Colors. —Ar incident in the life of Henry IV. of France finds its explanation in an ex periment made by Cnevreul. While yet prince of Navarre, Henry IV. waa play ing dice with two courtiers a few days before the massacre of St.-Bartholomew's day. They saw, or thought they aaw, on the dice spots of blood ; and the party broke up in alarm. The phenomenon is explained by Chevreul by the law of simultanenus contrast of colors, and he illustrates this by experiment as follows: neat yourself in a room so w* to receive So the right side the sun’s rays at an angle of twenty to twenty-five degrees, the left eye being closed. On a table covered with gray jiaper and under dif fuse light place two heo’s-feathers, one black and the other white, distant 0 6 to 0.8 metre from the eye. After about two minutes, with the right eye in the sun's beams, the dark feather appears red and white one emerald-green. After a few seconds the black feather of red color seems edged with green and the white feather seems of a rosy color. Now close the right pye and open the left. The black feather will be black and the white one white. The effect is evidently due to insolation; the black feather ap pears red because it reflects much less light than the white frather. From the law of simultaneous contrast of colors, the insulated eye seeing the green by white light, the black feather must ap pear of thecomplementaiy color of green, which is red. A Mr. Howland, of San Francisco claims after an expenditure of SB,OOO and several years of labor, to have discovered an infallible indicator, with which he has been able to tell how much coin a jier-on carried about bim and the proporticr. of gold an.l silver. The invention supplies a long felt want among borrowers. NUMBER 60. rnr rest's Ciulleege to Kilpatrick. In n sketch of the Into Gen. Forrest the N. Y. World sayi: Gen. Forrest whs not an educated aoldler, but he had that within him— energy, clash and pluck—which goes to make a successful cavalryman. That he was successful, his remarkable marches and numerous victories fullv attest. More than one unwary federal general went into camp in fancied aecurity think ing the enemy a hundred miles away, and before morning was awakened by an attack in force, against which he waa powerless. His excuse at headquaiten would be that it was Forrest who had made the attack. The cavalryman’s movement ■ were as rapid and eccentric as those of a guerilla, yet he carried with him always a large and well organised force. Someone asked him just before the close of the war, when his victories made him particularly conspicuous, what was the secret of his success. In his own homely way he said that it was by “gltting the most men thar first.” Sum mer before last, when Gen. Judaon Kil patrick was canvassing Indiana for the republicans, he spoke of Gen. Forrest in such a way that the latter challenged him to fight a duel. Aa soon as the challenge was sent Forrest wrote to Gen. Basil Duke, ef Kentucky, that, in case his Invitation was accepted—which he did not doubt for u moment—he would call on Duke to be his second. The let ter further said that in the necesaary arrangement ho would like Gen. Duke to instat that the duel ahould be fought on horseback with sabres, as that was the way for two cavalrymen to meet. Gen Duke at once engaged for his principal h steed for the encounter—a horse recommended by his owner to go over a church steeple, if necessary—and awaited Gen. Kilpatrick’s reply. Kilpatrick, however, declined to fight, on the ground that he and Forrest “ did not move in the same social sphere.” Had Ibis dual taken place, it doubtless would have been conducted in n style delightfully dramatic. Manufacture tlio Cotton In the South. I The Boston Advertiser prints the fol lowing very interesting private letter from a retired merchant and manu facturer of that city. His views afford valuable food for thought to the people of the south: “ The shipment from Great Britain of cotton yaras, called there twist, is vastly treater than is generally understood tere. Steam power there never can be as cheap aa it has been, and must gradually ;row dearer ns coal diminishes, and one lundred aud twenty-five millions tons a year is a frightful quantity when the supply is limited, as waa proved in Mr. Gladstone's premiership. Great Britain has paid millions through Dr. Lftlngstrfno and others to discover a climate and soil which yield a cotton fibre to compete with that of this coun* try, but without success. It would seem that the Maker of all things gave a patent to our southern states to pro duce Cotton. Where this cotton grows are some waterfalls equal to any in exist ence for motive power. Why should not n portion of the four and a half millions bales of cotton, now mostly sent from the states where grown, bo spun into yarns by a power cheaper than England ever knew, and shipped to countries now sup plied by Knglaud, where motive power is mftde irom coal mined, in some instances, three thousand feet below the surface of the earth? No one south or north doubts the culture of cotton will go on increasing till the quantity is six times greater than at present. “ With black iaborin the cotton fields and white labor in the mills, why ahould not our southern states become the great centre of cotton manufacturing within a reasonable time ? England is new in this branch of industry. At our peace witli her in 1783, eleven million Sounds were spun yearly, about twelve ays spinning in this country now. The south is spinning low numbers of cotton yarns as cheaply and skillAilly as Old or New England is doing it. Who can doubt, if the southern states now take hold of this business, that the wealth of the United States within half a century will be largely with them ? “I have corresponded with some promi nent southern men upon this subject, and it is most favorably thought of. A great deal of cotton machinery for the south has gone from eastern machine shops within a year.” A Singular Australian Bird. b A family of Australian birds, says a writer in Good words, which are the most anomalous of all in their habits, are the brush turkeys, which we may look upon as supplying the place of the oheasant and grouse, and whose unique domestic economy is specially adapted ior the peculiar conditions of Australian existence. The mother of a family of brush turkeys is very far removed from the position of a domestic diudge and enjoys complete immunity from the slavery of incubation. The old birds in spring share the labor of collecting an enormous mans of half decayed leaves and earth, five feet high, and sometimes forty five feet in circumference. As soon as the hotbed, by the fermentation of the vegetable matter attaius a heat of about eighty nine degrees Fahrenheit, the hen bird deposits her eggs, one after another, in the center. They are veiy carefully arranged in a circle on their ends ana then covered to a considerable height with leaves and earth. When hatched, the young birds scratch their own way out, and are abte at birth not only to run, but to fly sufficiently well to enable them to perch on trees out of harm’s way. The mother, however, seems generally to hsng about the neigh borhood, and to assume at once the education and guidance of the family. The solution of this euraodinary pecul iuitv is, as Mr. Wallace hs pointed out, only’ to be found in the peculiar condi tions of the open regions of Australia, were prolonged dioughts and scanty water supply entail a periodical scarcity of food. Ihe confinements of the parents to one spot for the purpose of incubation might under these circumstances lead to starvation and the consequent death of the offspring, but with the free power to roam the biids may easily find sustenance, and the young, fully developed at birth, arc at once capable of prolonged and ex tended journeys. Faith whelas tire mas sat N>r.dt! *•••• the MIS* M? Hm wilnt, altbmth b* •* am • l-retl* H, twi rasaMt **? 1 SreWret IMt.tol *M m lb* —lire bt Itsa'i ju tk.et W—to ** *Ol hlbrktt r, wu M fW.iy wnMa't sat Satire ba Uh tateTla bh lan. Ha to rTtaal n pwartwa? •11*5*?*’ Ha pc—lre* lasabMa ap Shaala >M stawtaal. Amt tank Waa tka ailnareta Here. Daat, Saar l what rata tka —tier la T Wkv akaaM tka rurkay m and la a katta* ba? Where ran the Bear aha wan (wng to apat bar ba, Turkey b rhaatns the Bear I — WrwpHt. Thb midsummer returns of paupers in England and Wales shewed a diminution of 2.110 aa compared with last year, which, Vn view of the rapid increase of population, ami the exceedingly de pressed condition of trade, is a remark able decrease. A rrrxiFißD wasp nest has been found near Eureka, Nev., bv blasting in the solid rock forty feet below the surface of the ground. On breaking it open, some cells, larva, and two perfectly formed wasps were found, also petrified. The rock is a gtanlte sand stone of sedimen tary formation. A senior Turk is obliged not only, to wank bis head, face, neck, ears and ty**, but also his teeth at each of the nVb daily calls to prayer, so he very soon wean out his toothbrush, and those articles are generally sold in packets of a doren. They are made of olive sticks about ten inches long and half an inch in diameter. At one end for about half an inch they are split in all directions, so as to form a brush It is may to see that they are not calculated to endure hard ware. The less-particular Turks use ordinary European toothbrushes, but as even the must lax among them look on the pig ami all belonging to him as vile and unclean, they would as soon think of defiling their mouths with a Russian' bristle toothbrush aa ot eating a pork chop or a rasher of bacon. Trie shop keepers therefore, swears by the head and souls of hia lather and mother that the hair of which his toothbrushes are made grew or. the back of the camel, the cow or tho home.— Mark. A Nkw Remedy for Wakefulness, —To Uiose whose brains will not subside when the time for rest has arrived, Dr. John L. Oook, of Henderson, Ky., pro poses a very simple inethsd of securing prompt and refreshing sleep without the aid ot drugs When the mind is active, the circulation in the brain is corres pondingly active; we breathe more fre quently, and the movements of the heart are more rapid and vigorous On the. other band, when the mind ia at real, ns in healthy sleep, the circulation in the brain is notably diminished, the heart la ata are less rapid and forcible, and the breathing is perceptibly slower. In the wakeful state the mind, air a rule, is in tensely occupied, whence we may infor an increased amount o< blood in tho brain. Dr. Cook’s suggestion is to withdraw a portion of this from the head, or lower the brain-circulation, by taking deep and ■low inspirations—say twelve or fifteen a minute. By this meuns the action of ihe heart will become slower and feebler, less blood is thrown into the brain, and very soon a quiet fooling, ending in sleep, is iadueed. As by a slight effort of the will any one may try this, we leave the ques tion of its value to the test of aelti il ex periment The Sultan’s Here. The most popular man is Osman I’asha, the hero of Plevna. The sultan has been pleased to confer upon the wife of tho said Osman the sum of 12,000 pi-sires, and upon two of hia children, aged eight and six, the sums of 8,000 and 4,000 piastres respectively. Even the aervants of Osman Pasha have received handaome presents. In contrast with this liberality the aoldier ia not paid, and the daily piastre he ia supposed to receive has (wen for months past a myth. Two mtals a day—not very sumptuous at beat—are hia allowance, coarse black bread and weak soup, to which a small piece of mutton is added at the chief repast. And yet the sultan can a fibril to shower presents on a commander whose principal merit consists in keeping his men in almost impregnable trenches and fighting them with the Martini-l’enry in opposition to the Hutsiansteel. Oh! the pashaal Talko- the|corruptin at Wash ington 1 The exposures of the past are in the United States sink into insigni ficance compared with the exploits in the same line of these oriental dignitaries. Gorged with plunder and ever grasping at more, tney griud the faces of the poor, and while the people groana under the burdens laid upon it, and the hard-earned pay of the soldier is kept back, these bloated officials revel in luxury and ease —palaces in the capital and kiosks nn tho Bosphorus—wives surrounded by all that eastern opulenoe can devise, and slaves to forestall their slightest wish.— Cbnttantmopfe Oof. Nrm York World. about the fair hex. Eve inaugurated tho fall fashions. Bunches of autumn leaves are a noveltv for hat ornamentation. Pearl buttons an inch in diameter are worn on black dresses. Femine toilets will V decidedly mas culine in many details this winter. Beetles, bugs, lisards and serpents are now favorite designs for ladies’ jewelry. Russian ladies are always very anxious to marry, because they have no liberty before marriage. Young ladies frequently wear the cravat bow slightly toward the left shoulder. Patti has earned $2,500,000 with her voice, but when she wai a child her father pawned hia family’s clothes and trinkets to get bread for them to eat. In Colorado it is said that at the late election married men voted for woman suffrage, while single men, especially those of disreputable associations, voted against it. _ A Cough Cure. An Italian doctor (according to Lea Mondes) attibutes cough to the presence of a parasitic fungus in the air-passages. In grave cases this parasite multiplies, and reaches into the lung cells. Quinine has the property of stopping the de velopment of microscopic luogi, and is therefore adapted as a remedy in the present esse. * Dr. L. has used with suc cess the following powder: Chlorhydrate of quinine, one grain; bicarbonate of soda, one grain; gum arsbic, twenty grains. The bicarbonate of soda is meant to dissolve the mucus, and the gum trabic to increase the adherence of the powder on the bronchial passages. Ihe insufflation (b'owiog in) of the powder should take place during a d|t inspira tion of tie [alient, so ia to facilitate its penetration into the win ipipe, which is the principal seat of the micru-ci'j'ic I fungus.