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THE OGLETHORPE ECHO.
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Bayard Taylor.
For ns he wandered through "triage ;iands
and old ;
We saw the world through him. The Arab's
tent
To him its story-telling secret lent,
And, pleased, we listened to the tales he told
His tank, beguiled with BODgs that shall en
dure;
In manly, honest thoroughness he wrought;
Prom humble home-lays to the heights of
thought
Blowly he climbed, but every Btep was sure.
How, with the generous pride that friendship
hath,
We, who so loved him, saw at last the crown
Of civic honor on bis Vows pressed down
Bsjoiced. and knew not that the gift was
death.
And now for him, whose praise in deafened
ears
Two nations speak, we answer but with
tears!
Oh vale of Cheater ! trod by him so oft,
Green as thy June turf keep his memory,
bet
Nor wood, nor dell, nor storied stream for
get,
Nor wind" ' v round lonely Cedarcroft;
IP .jfM greet him in the far,
, .and that holds him ; let the mes
ewgiss
Of love pursue him o’er the chartless seas
And unmapped vastness of his unknown star !
Love's language, hoard beyond the loud dis
course
Of perishable fame, in every sphere
Itself interprets ; and its utterance here
Bomewhew' in God's unfolding nnivorse
Shall -each cor traveler, softening the sur
prise ,
Of his rapt; gaze on unfamiliar skies !
—Johi Oreenleaf WhtUier, Atlantic Monthly.
~tf • ~ ~
CONTRARY MINDED.
“ I wonder he didn’t take the parson,”
mused the deacon’s housekeeper as the
devicen drove oil alone to the annual
Of inference. “ He’s commonly master
thoughtful about lookin’ out for folks.
What a husband he was 1”
Yes, Asa Phoenix had been a good
husband. All the neighbors agreed
With Mrs. Dubbs in that particular. He
bad waited upon his fussy invalid wife by
dying inches for thirty years, making her
as happy as she would let him; and
when her summons came, he had closed
her -flying eves tenderly, saying, even
with tears: “ Poor sufferer, she is better
off r
That he was better off he never hint
ed Jby word or look. He wore his widow
er /s weeds with sad decorum; be reared
UP memory of the departed Lucinda a !
bo on ament which the most fastidious
dfeceased might have envied; he grieved j
faithfully for tho full allotted year of i
mourning. If now, from the ashes of
t&e funeral pyre, like Lin feathered |
rfamesake of fable, ho was springing up j
wfy.h renewed youth and freshness, was
it neat well?
In tenth, though he had not seeu fit
to coiitfilo this fact to Mrs. Dubbs, Dea
conPboer.>ix had slighted the minister!
deliberately , au.l with malice afore
thought. Nibr was it of the conference
he w us that fragrant June
more ng as hcoinngt&ad away, tucking
the than ouryottngossy new
broahelotb/F’ir needle and others try w.
blam tin
soeiurtnnn owes $3,0U0, to be paid in l "
didmi s, at 7 per cent, interest, how P r
ajf must lie pay each year to make ea
equal? *'p
—We promised not to say anything
out the line shad that cleverestj®ntte
>st generous of men. Dr. fef he might
li, brought us last week. r
—\Ve return thanks e 1 How fond he
hau eea Yu' uu?,*'/Ti:s ago, when she
atteis !el his school! If ho haul not
then been in love with Lucinda, he was
sure he should have fallen in love with
her, mere child tlipugli Ithe was. He
had never list sight 1 of her. and he
than' ed Providence that he Lad been
enab ed by money and influence to help
lier family ovn some hard places.
Plena-' G ;d, the dear girl should hence
forth have an easier life. Girl ! Why,
little Olive must be t'r'tv ! The good
deacon laughed at tho amusing recol
lection. Well, she would always seem
young to him. And as for himself, at
sixty odd he was a hale man yet; he
could jump r. five-rail fence as well as
ever he could—give him time. His
thoughts continuously reverted to Olive,
so patiently devoted to her invalid
father. She should bring the old gen
tleman to his house if she wished, or he
woukt provide for his maintenance at
her brother Reuben’s. He whs iuclined
to consider that the better plan. The
money would be an object to Reuben.
In these cogitations the morning
passed, and noon fouuul Deacon Pbcenix
at the little I sot el in Chester. Impatient
of delay, after a hasty dinner he set out
almo:-r immediately for the Wayne
homestead. Arrived at the gate, he
spied Miss Olive at tiie window, and
alighted with a youthful agility not al
together printout in a man who had
twinges of sciatica. And yet—strange
inconsistency of human nature I—he
dallied at the hitehiug-poit, and after
warul, with his hand ou the very knock
er, he paused to scan the distant horizon,
as though he had come mainly for a view
of the mountains. Miss Oiive opened
the door, her cheeks flushing like late
October peaches. She would not have
been a woman had she not divined the
deacon’s tender mission; proclaimed by
every detail of his immaculate toilette,
by the grasp of his hand, by his nerv
ous, expectant air. And, moreover,
Miss Ofive was an attractive woman,
not nuversed in lovers’ ways.
•* Happy to see yon, Mr. Phoenix.
Walk in,” said she, flurriedly, ÜBliering
him into the sitting-room, where her
aged father dozed in his armchair.
** Who is it, Olive ?” said the old gen
tleman, waking with a bewildered stare.
11 Mr. Pbcenix, father. You remember
Mr. Phoenix, I’m Btue.”
“I don’t know as I do,” said he,
querulously, fumbling with the guest’s
outet retched hand. “What’s become
for. Olive?”
The deacon looked as if he was sud
denly feeling the hot weather; Misti
Olivo was positively feverish, but she
deftly evaded the troublesome question
by diverting her father's attention. His
peppermint tea was ready—would he !
not drink it f As she hovered about the
invalid, straightening his footstool, ar
ranging his pillows, steadying the cup
while he drank, Mr. Phoenix regarded
her admiringly. How young she seem
ed still! Not a gray thread in her gold
en hair; scarcely a wrinkle in her face.
That was because of her excellent dis
position. He waited till she had sooth
ed the old man into slumber, theD in a
direct, manly way introduced the sub
ject that lay next his heart
M’*ss Olive interrupted him by an
eloquent glance toward her father.*
“ He is very ohildish and dependent.
He cannot do without me.”
“ Let me help yon care for him, Olive;
my house is large, my means are ample.
“I couldn’t, Mr. Phoenix—it is like
your generosity to propose such a
thing; but I couldn't have him a burden
upon you.”
“ Why, bless your soul, Olive, do
you suppose I should consider a friend
of youre a burden ?”
“ Ton don't know how trying poor
father would be to anybody but hnsown
daughter, and I think he is likely to
live to a greet age, as grandfather did.”
Oglethorpe Echo.
By T. L. GANTT.
“For that very reason, then”—
“ Besides, it would make him wretch
ed to take him from the old homestead.”
“ Bat, Olive
So you see I'm engaged, Mr. Phoe
nix,” said Miss Olive, playfully, while
she whisked away a tear. “ I’m en
gaged. Yon must marry some lady who
isn’t. And I hope you’ll be as happy
as you deserve to be,” she added, with
a little tremor, springing up to adjust
the curtain.
In vain he tried to bend her to his
wishes ; she remained outwardly as firm
as the hearthstone at her feet, till at
length he arrived at the unwelcome con
viction that she had no liking for him,
or she would have listened to his plead
ings. She had interposed the old gen
tleman merely as a sort of cushion to
soften the blow of her rejection.
If he took a smiling leave, it was be
cause pride tugged at his facial mnscles,
for, to tell the truth, he had never been
more disappointed and chagrined in his
life. Of what avail the stylish eqnipage
upon which he had once plumed him
self 1 Was it not bearing him on to the
tomb ? And why should he wish.to pro
long this earthly pilgrimage ? What
further attractions had life for him, [a
lonely old man nearing seventy ?
Hardly conscious of the reins, he Lad
driven some miles at an unsanctified
pace, when he almost ran over Mr. Tor
rey, brother of the deceased Lncinda,
who was walking behind his carriage up
a long ascent.
“Going to conference?” asked that
gentleman, after an exchange of greet
ings. “ Didn’t you come a roundabout
way ?”
“ I’m inclined to think I did,” assent
ed the deacon, with a prodigious show of
candor. “A roundabout way and a
hard way. Is your wife with you ?”
“ Yes; and the widow Yance. I have
to foot it up hill, you see. Horse step
ped on a rolling slone back a piece and
lamed himself.”
“Your load is too heavy ; let Sister
Torrey ride with me.”
But Sister Torrey being nervous, like
Lncinda before her, and mortally afraid
of the deacon’s spirited steed, it was in
the end Mrs. Vance who nestled into
the vacant seat. She was a gushing
young widow whose mitigated grief
manifest itself in certain coquettish
bows of pale lavender. She protested
that she felt already acquainted with Mr.
Phoenix throngh her late husband, to
whom he had been so kind. She would j
never cease to be grateful for the maDy j
favors he had conferred upon dear ;
Charles, etc.
In the morning the worthy deacon
would have smiled inwardly at this effu
sive panegyric. This afternoon he
hugged it like a poultice to his aching
heart. It soothed his wounded self
love, and inclined him toward his fair
eulogist, to whom herecounted pleasant
anecdotes of her husband’s boyhood.
Indeed, he made himself so agreeable
that she was rather sorry to reach
Churchville, where the whole party
were cordially welcomed at the house of
Mr. Zenas Torrey.
A proud man whs Mr. Phoenix. He
would not for the world have had his re
cent disappointment suspected by his
wife’s relatives, and during those three
days of conference he carried himself
with a resolute cheerfulness that some- :
times—out of meetiug, of course—
verged upon friskiness. Mrs. Yance
?P-LMrs. Zenas Torrey that he was
“■ splendid,” which compliment
rc y re pe ft ted to him with a sig
i thi*v * hinting that if he thought
e As -’d’K again, he ueed not starch
. .ur a wife. He looked confused, and
hotiy disclaimed any matrimonial inten
tioi>. As to the young widow, was he
not double her age ? Would June join
hands with December ?
Alas! what an ins gaificant,trifle can
turn the scale of human destiny 1 But
for a horse's right forefoot ’ Deacon
Pbcenix might have returned to his
homo on tho morrow as he had left it—
a free man. It was the lamo horse that
kick>al the beam and decided bis fate.
On Friday morning that meddling quad
ruped Laving been found lamer than
ever, the deacon could do no less than
offer to escort Mrs. Vance home. She
could do no less than to accept the offer
gladly. By some mysterious law of
sequences, this led to a second offer and
a second acceptance, and almost before
he knew it Deacon Phoenix had pledged
himself to escort the widow for life.
When, after gallantly depositing his
promised bride at her own door, he was
alone with his thoughts, he felt a little
surprised at his own precipitancy; but
he told himself over and over again what
a fortunate man he was—how happy he
ought to be. Contrary to his usual cus
tom, he had acted from impulse, and the
result was highly satisfactory. “ Highly
satisfactory,” he repeated to himself, as
he passed the entrance to tne cross-road
which led to Miss Olive’s. Somehow
his reflections were less cheerful after
that. Perhaps the chilly rain-storm just
setting iu depressed him, or perhaps it
was the empty hearse that he met face
to face—for the best of us have our su
perstitions. Certain it is that, as he
alighted from his buggy that evening,
with weariness of limb and limpness of
linen, his countenance led Mrs. Dubbs
to fear tho meetings had not been profit
able.
Next morning, thanks to the ungra
cious weather, he was aroused by sciatic
tortures. To an elderly gentleman,
newly-betrothed to a blooming lady
greatly his junior, such an awakening
was peculiarly trying. He thongbt rue
fully of the early visit he had promised
Mrs. Vance. Should the pains increase,
he must defer it indefinitely, or limp
into her presence on crutches—an al
ternative too suggestive of advancing
age. Flattered as he was by the
widow’s acceptance, he could not deny
that it placed him in a position in some
respects irksome. It admonished him
that he had no further right to infirmi
ties; that henceforth it was his bounden
duty to be as young as he could. The
reflection wearied him; the clutching
' pain wearied him. Mrs. Dnbbs after
ward said she had never seen him so
nearly ont of sorts as on that evening
when she took in his mail. Among the
letters was one that caught his eye at
onoe:
“ Dear Friend " (it ran) —“ My poor
tired father is at rest. He was seized
with paralysis the morning after yon
left us, and passed away painlessly in a
few hours. How little I anticipated
this event when we talked together!
My hands were full then; now they are
very empty. My work hero is done. If
yon still believe I could make hap
py the kind friend who has always been
our benefactor, I should be glad to see.
you. Yours, sincerely,
Olive Wayne.”
Mr. Phoenix read this missive, re
read it, shut it into the book of Job safe
from prying Mrs. Dubbs, and drummed
: uneasily on the closed Bible. What a
predicament! Must he thrust back
upon Olive this gift for which he had
so lately sued ? Must he thus humble
! her ? He writhed at the thought. Must
; he thus humble himself ? Bitterer than
! all, must he relinquish this tried friend
of a lifetime? Having reached life’s
autumn, must he reject life’s mature
and appropriate fruits for the rhubarb
and greens of spring-time? Alas ! yes;
- he must fulfill his engagement, for was
he not an “honorable man?” He
would write at once to Olive a candid
statement of the case.
Bnt while he idled at his desk on the
morrow Mr. Torrey came to ask the loan
THE ONLY PAPER IN ONE OF THE LARGEST, MOST INTELLIGENT AND WEALTHIEST COUNTIES IN GEORGIA.
of a horse till his own should be in run
ning order, and the deacon laid down
his pen with a sigh of relief.
Feeling that he ought to tell his
brother-in-law of his contemplated mar
riage, at dinner he led the conversation
back to the conference and Mrs. Vance.
“ By-the-way, I met the widow this
morning riding with John Vance,” re
marked Mr. Torrey, casually. “Yon
remember him—the brother next to
Charles ? He’s just come from Califor
nia, with his pockets full.”
“Ah ?”
“ Yes. Shouldn’t wonder if he took
the widow. Some say they’re engaged
already.”
Of course the deacon knew better
than that, nevertheless he delayed his
tender confession. And he did not
write the letter. Time enough for that
after he had paid Mrs. Vance the prom
ised visit. The latter lady had certainly
the first claim upon his attentions.
Unfortunately several days of tor
menting pain ensned, during which the
deacon’s patience was put to a pretty
severe test; but he was at last able to
seek the object of his hasty choice. He
found her in her dooryard, playing
croquet with a tall, well-dressou gentle
man.
“ So happy to see you, Deacon Phoe
nix 1” cried she, with voluble embarrass
ment, “and so glad to introduce Mr.
Vance, dear Charlie’s brother. Do come
in.”
“ I hops my tardy coming does not
seem discourteous, Mrs. Vance,” said
he,in affable formality, while the stranger
hastened to a suddenly-recalled engage
ment. “ I have not ”
“ No—oh no,” broke in the widow,
nervously.
“I have not been well. Otherwise,
under our present interesting rela
tions ”
“ Oh, Mr. Pbcenix I” interrupted she,
throwing herself upon a cricket at his
feet. “Do you know, lam so afraid I
am not the one to make yon happy ?
And my friends say the discrepancy in
our ages is too great. Ought Ito marry
against their wishes ?”
“You must decide that question, dear
madam,” responded the deacon, with
suppressed eagerness. The finger of
Providence was in this. He held his
breath to make sure which way it
pointed.
* ‘ Then if you don’t mind very much,
Deacon Phoenix, perhaps it would be
better for us to part as friends. Oh,
dear 1 1 hope you’ll forgive me if I’ve
done anything wrong.”
The deacon hardly heard the closing
sentence for the glad beating of his
heart. “My dear child, you have done
quite right; I do not reproach yon,”
said he, with a smile of infinite benevo
lence. “It is natural that youth should
choose to wed with youth.”
“And that age should wed with age,”
he added, mentally, as, with an adieu
almost paternal, he drove away in the
direction of Miss Olive’s.
He and Miss Wayne were married the
following October, but Mr. and Mrs.
Vance waited till Christmas.— Harper's
Bazar.
Why She Wept.
Old Nancy had been telling Bijah that
she’d give the court as good “ sass ” as
he sent, and that he might give her six
months and be hanged to him. She
walked out with an ugly look in her eye
and her teeth shut, and was impatient
for the affray to begin.
“Years and years ago,” began his
honor, talking as if to himself, “I used
to pass a white house on Second street.
It was so white and clean, and its green
blinds contrasted so prettily, that I used
to stand on the walk and wonder if the
inmates were not the happiest people in
Detroit. They were happy. They had
plenty. They had children who played
games on the green grass, and the birds
saug all flay long in the arbors.”
Old Nancy looked around uneasily as
he waited a moment.
“ As the years went by the white house
turned brown with neglect. The birds
went away. The children died or grew
up ragged and uncivil. I well remem
ber the day the husband and father put
a pistol to his head and ended his shame
and life together. The wife was drunk
when the body was brought home by
the crowd.”
A low moan of pain escaped the old
woman’s lips.
“ It was her love for drink that killed
that man—that buried the children—
that sent the birds away—that passed
the place into strangers’ hands,” whis
pered the court. “Is the woman
dead ?”
Old Nancy groaned as her tears fell.
“ No; she lives. She has no home, no
friends, no one to love her. There must
be times when she looks back to plenty,
peace and happiness, and has such a
heartache as few women '-now of. There
must be times when she r y>ers the
graves she once wept chil
dren’s voices must sometimes remind
her of the tones of those laid to rest
long years ago. I would not be in her
place for all the wealth iu the world.”
“ Oh, sir ! Don’t talk to me—don’t
call it up 1” she moaned as she wrung
her hands.
“ You may go,” he quietly said; “ you
have not long to live. There are those
here who can remember when you had
silks instead of rags—when you rode in
yonr carriage instead of wandering
through alleys and lying in the gutter.
Some morning you will be found dead.
That will be the last act in a drama so
full of woe and misery and wretched
ness that it will be a relief to know that
you are dead.”
White as a ghost, trembling in every
limb and weeping like a child, she
passed out— Detroit Free Press.
Z’llu Skill and Courage.
For courage and other warlike quali
ties the Zulus may be fairly called the
Afghans of Africa, and many of their
recorded exploits would do credit to any
trained soldier. Some few years ago a
Zulu hunter, hearing a young British
officer speak somewhat lightly of native
prowess, offered to give him a specimen
of it by killing single-handed a huge
lion which infested the neighborhood.
The challenge was accepted, and the
brave fellow at once set forth upon his
dangerous errand, the officer and several
i of his comrades following at a distance.
Having drawn the beast from his lair,
the hunter wounded him with a well
flung spear and instantly fell flat on the
ground beneath his huge shield of rhi
noceros hide, which covered his whole
body like the lid of a dish. The lion
having vainly expanded his fury upon
it, at length drew back a few paces.
Instantly the shield rose again, a second
lance struck him, and his furious rush
encountered only the impenetrable
buckler. Foiled again, the lion crouch
ed close beside his ambushed enemy as
if meditating a siege; but the wily sav
age raised the further end of the shield
just enough to let him creep noiselessly
away into the darkness, leaving his
buckler unmoved. Arrived at a safe
distance, he leveled his third spear at
the broad yellow flank of the royal beast
with such unerring aim as to lay him
dead on the spot, and then returned
composedly to receive the apologies and
congratulations of the wondering spec
tators.
One Who knows says you may talk of
Iyour water cures, your movement cures,
and your blue-glass cures, but there is
nothing like the sinecure, after all.
LEXINGTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, APRIL 4, 1879.
FAK*, DARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
Salt for Trees and Vegetables.
“ J. D.” writes from Kankakee, 111.,
: to the Chicago Times :
I will give you a sketch of my ex
j prience with the use of salt in the or
| chard and garden. Young fruit trees
can be made to grow and do well in
places where o'd trees have died, by
sowing a pint of salt on the earth where
they are to stand. After trees are set I
! continue to sow a pint of salt around
: each every year. I set twenty-five trees
in sandy soil for each one of seven
years, and only succeeded in getting
one to live, and that only produced
twigs a few inches long in nine years.
Last spring I sowed a pint of salt
round it, and limbs grew from three to
three and a-half feet long. In the
spring of 1877 I set out twenty-five
trees, putting a pint of salt in the dirt
used for filling, and then sowed a pint
more on the surface after each tree was
set. All grew as if they had never
been taken from the nursery. Last
spring I set thirty more, treating them
in the same way, and they have grown
very finely. The salt keeps away in
sects that injure the roots and renders
the soil more capable of sustaining plant
growth.
In 1877 my wife had a flower gar
den forty feet square. It was neces
sary to water it nearly every day,
and still the plants and flowers
were very inferior in all respects. In
1878 I put half a barrel of brine and half
a bushel of salt on the ground and turn
ed them under. The consequence was
that the plants were of extraordinary
large size and the flowers of great beau
ty. It was not necessary to water the
garden, which was greatly admired by
all who saw it. The flowers were so
large that they appeared to be of differ
ent varieties from those grown on land
that was not salted.
I had some potatoes growing from
seed that wilted down as soon as the
weather became very hot. I applied
salt to the surface of the soil till it was
white. The vines soon took a vigorous
start, grew to the length of three feet,
blossomed and produced tubers from
the size of hen’s eggs to that of goose
eggs. My soil is chiefly sand, but I be
lieve the salt is highly beneficial to clay
as to common prairie land.
Recipes.
Cookies.— One cup of white sngar;
two-thirds cup of butter; two eggs;
one-balf teaspoonful of saleratus; mix
with flour enough to roll and cut nicely.
Cinnamon Muffins. —One cup of sour
milk; half cup of sugar; oue egg; one
tablespoonful of cinnamon; one table
spoonful of soda, dissolved in a little
hot water.
Sponge Cake. —Four large eggs, two
cups of flour, two cups of sugar, even
full; beat the two parts of the eggs
separate, the whites to a froth; then
beat them together, stir in the flour,
and, without delay, put it into the oven.
Carrot Pudding. —One pound grated
carrots, throe-fourths pound chopped
suet, half pound each raisins and cur
rants, four tablespoons sugar, eight
tablespoons flour, and spices to suit the
taste. Boil four hours, place in the
oven for twenty minutes.
Meat Pie. —Take cold roast beef, or
indeed roast, meat of any kind, slice it
thin, cut rather small, and lay it with
gravy sufficiently salted and peppered,
in a meat-pie dish. Over the meat pour
a couple of sliced tomatoes and a thick
Inver of mashed potatoes. Bake slowly,
and you have a fine meat pie.
Boiled Suet Pudding.— lnto a quart
of boiling milk stir gradually as much
sweet corn meal as will make a thick
batter; add a teacup of beef suet, chop
ped fine, and a teaspoon of salt; tie it
loosely in a bag and boil two hours.
Quarter of a pound of raisins may be
added to the batter. Serve with sirup.
Apples, Boston Stele. —Peel, core
and slice about five nice cooking apples;
sprinkle the slices with a spoonful of
flour, one of grated bread, and a little
sugar; have some lard quite hot in a
small stew-pan, put the slices of apple
in it, and fry to a light yellow. When
all are done, take a piece of butter the
size of a walnut, a good spoonful of
grated bread, a spoonful of sugar, and
a teacupfnl of milk; put into the pan,
and when they boil up throw in the
apple slices. Hold the whole over the
fire for two minutes, when it will be
ready to serve.
In the Oi .-hard.
It is a good deal of work to pick off
the buds of young fruit on apple trees,
to change the “bearing year,” but a
correspondent of the Germantown Tele
graph tells of a way that is both easy
and has proved effectual with him. He
went to work with a long pole or fishing
rod, and gave his trees a severe beating
on one side, knocking off all the apples
on that side when the fruit was of the
size of hickory nuts, with many of the
small twigs. The result was that for
many years after those trees bore a full
crop of apples on one side one year, and
the following year on the other side,
taking it in regular rotation, and he had
plenty of fruit every year.
It is a common opinion with fruit
growers that picking off all the blossoms
or very young fruit will change the
year of bearing, and this result has been
frequently obtained. How long this
will continue has not been proved. We
have seen no satisfactory reason given
why the trees generally all throngh the
country bear heavily alike in one year
and sparsely the next, instead of the
trees alternating irregulaily, or pro
miscuously intermixed. An orchardist
who has a fine and profitable orchard
which bears most heavily during the
scant year, informs ns that it is a reno
vated orchard, and that the manuring
and other care which it had for renew
ing its bearing, was given in a year
to cause rehearing in the off seasons.—
Country Gentleman.
The Arrie.
The great egg bird of the North sea is
the arrie, while its southern cousin sup
plies the people of San Francisco with a
liberal number of its gayly colored eggs
taken from the Farallon3; indeed, the
arrie is the only sea-bird of real economic
value to man throughout our whole
northwest and north. It is probably
safe to say that the numbers of these
birds which assemble at St. George are
vastly greater than elsewhere on the
globe. Asa faint bnt truthful state
ment of the existing fact, the following
may be said:
When the females begin to squat con
tinuously over their eggs, along by the
end of June and the first ot July, the
males regularly relieve them, taking
j turns in keeping the eggs warm. Thus
they feed alternately, going out to sea
for that purpose. This constant going
ont and coming in daring the day gives
rise, at regular hours in the morning
and evening, to a dark girdle of these
birds flying just above tbe water, around
and around the island, in an endless
chain more than a quarter of a mile
broad and thirty miles in length I This
great belt of flying arries represents just
one-half of the number of these birds
breeding on the cliffs, for only those
off, orare in the circling column that are
carries relieved by their mates for the
day from the duty of incubation.—
Harper' t Magazine.
THE REMORSELESS BARBER.
A Tale at Lass and Acaay with Several
Cats*
The wild ungovernable passion a
barber has for trimming your hair I
I was in Boston, thinking about a lec
ture I was expected to deliver in the
I evening, and so badly scared that I
couldn’t remember the subject nor what
it was about, I went into a Tremont
street “ Institute of Facial Manipula
tion and Tonsorial Decoration,” and in
quired for the professor who occupied
the chair of mediseval shaving and nine
teen century shampoo. One of the
junior members of the faculty, who was
brushing an undergraduate’s ooat,
pointed me to a chair, and I climbed in.
\V hen the performance was about con
cluded, the barber said to me :
“ Have your hair trimmed, sir 1”
“ I believe not.”
“Needs it very badly, sir ; looks
very ragged.”
I never argue with a barber. I said:
“ All right, trim it a little, but don’t
make it any shorter.”
Immediately he trimmed all the curl
out of it, and my hair naturally, you
know, has a very graceful curl to it. I
never discovered this myself until a
few months ago, and then I was very
much surprised. I discovered it by
looking at my lithograph.
Well, anyhow, he trimmed it.
Two days afterward I was at Bath,
Maine. Again I was shaved, and again
the barber implored me to let him trim
my hair. When I answered him that it
had been trimmed only two days before,
he spitefully asked where it was done.
I told him, and he gave expression to a
burst of sarcastic laughter.
“Well, well, well,” he said at last,
“ so you let them trim ycur hair in Bos
ton. Well, well. Now you look like a
man who has been around the world
enough to know better than that.”
Then he affected to examine a lock or
two very particularly, and sighed heav
ily.
“Dear, dear,” he said, “I don’t
know, really, as I could do anything
with that hair or not; it’s too bad.”
Well his manner frightened me, and
I told him to go on and trim it, but
please not to make it any shorter.
“No,” he said, “oh, no, it wasn’t
necessary to out it any shorter; it was
really too short now, but it did need
trimming.”
So he “trimmed ” it, and when I faced
the Rockland audience that night I
looked like a prize-fight, r.
In four days from that time I was sit
ting in the chair of a barber down in
New York State. He shaved me in
graceful silence, and then thoughtfully
rau his fingers over my lonely hair.
“ Trim this hair a little, sir ?” he said.
“ Straighten it about the edges?”
I meekly told him I had it trimmed
twice during the preceding week, and I
was afraid it was getting too short for
winter wear.
“ Yes,” he said, “ he didn’t know but
what it was pretty short, but you didn’t
need to cut it any shorter to trim it. It
was in very bad, ragged shape at the
ends.”
I remained silent and obstinate, and
he asked me where I had it trimmed
last. I told him, and he burst into a
shout of laughter that made the windows
rattle.
“ What’s the matter, Jim?” inquired
an assistant partner down the room,
holding his patient in the chair by the
nose.
Jim stifled bis laughter and replied :
“This genileman had his hair
trimmed down in Maine.”
There was a general burst of merri
ment all over the shop, and the appren
tice laid down the brush he was wash
ing and came over to look at the Maine
out, that he might never forget it. I
surrendered. “Trim it a little, then,”
I groaned, “but, in the name of hu
manity don’t cut it any shorter. ”
“ No,’ the barber said, “ he wouldn’t
make it a hair’s breadth shorter.”
When I left that shop, if it hadn’t
been for my ears, my hat would have
fallen down clear on my shoulders.
When I reached the hotel, everybody
stared, and a couple of men got up and
read a handbill on the wall, descriptive
of a convict who had recently escaped
from Sing Sing, and looked from the
bill to myself very intently. That night
several of the audience drew revolvers
as I came out on the platform.
Well, I got along to Oorry, Pa., and
rushed in for a shave and got it, in one
i time and two motions.
“ Hair trimmed, sir ?” the barber said.
I supposed he was speaking sarcasti
cally, and so I laughed, but very feebly,
for I was getting to be a little sensitive
on the subject of my hair, or rather my
late hair. But he repeated his ques
tion, and said that it needed trimming
very badly. I told him that was what
ailed it, it had been trimmed to death;
why, I said, my hair had been trimmed
five times during the last thirteen days,
and I was afraid it wouldn’t last much
longer.
“ Well,” he said, “ it was hardly the
thing for a man of my impressive ap
pearance, who would naturally attract
attention the moment I entered a room
(I had to stand on tiptoe and hold on
with both hands to look over the back
of a car-seat) to go around with such a
head of hair, when he could straight
en it out for me in a minute.”
I told him to go ahead, and closed my
eyes, and wondered what would come
next.
That fellow took a pa-53 of dentist’s
forceps and “ pulled ” every lock of hair
I had left,
“ There,” he said proudly, “ now
when your hair grows out it will grow
out even.”
I was a little dismayed at first when I 1
looked at my glistening poll, but after |
all it was a relief to know that the end
was reached, and nobody could torment
me again to have my hair trimmed for
several weeks. But when 1 got shaved i
at Ashtabula, the barber insisted on i
puttying up the holes and eiving my
head a coat of shellac. I yielded, and
my head looked like a varnished globe
with the maps left off. Two days after
; I sat in a barber’s chair at Mansfield.
The barbe shaved me silently. Then
he paused, with a bottle poised in his
hand, and said :
“Shampoo?”
I answered with a look. Then he oiled j
my hairless globe and bent over it for a
moment with a hairbrush. Then he j
said :
“On which side do yon part your
hair ?”— Burdette, in Burlington Hawk
eye.
The Cow.
At a sale of farming stock in Glouces
tershire, England, the auctioneer gave
Jhe following extemporaneous descrip
tion of a cow:
Long in her sides, bright in her eyes,
Short in her legs, thin in her thighs,
Big in her ribs, wide in her arms,
Full in her bosom, small in her shins,
Long in her face, fine in her tail,
And never deficient in filling her pail.
A Jackson (Miss.) paper says that
there is no estimating the pecuniary loss
the South has sustained by the destruc
tion of stock, especially working ani
mals, horses, mules and oxen, since the
war, and it urges the necessity of pro
viding the severest penalty for cruelty
to dumb brutes, and the rigid inquisi
tion by grand juries into offenses of this
kind, with a view to the punishment of
the offenders.
TIMELY TOPICS.
There was such a hydrophobia excite
ment in Clarke county, Ind., that in
many localities every dog has been kill
ed. In one township nearly two hun
dred were slain.
The latest dodge of the Western
sharpers is to sell farmers anew kind of
oats at $lO a bushel, and contracting to
take all the farmer raises next year at
$7.50 a bushel. They get a farmer’s
note, tell it, and skip out.
Two miners, of Humboldt Wells, Nev.,
being drunk and jovial, went to the
cabin of a wood-chopper to have some
fun with him. He was a silly fellow,
and the oommou butt of the neighbor
hood, but on this ocoasion he refused to
be fooled with. The drunkards resented
his lack of complaisancy, and tried to
scare him with their revolvers. Then
he cut them down with an axe, killing
both.
The forthcoming annual meeting of
the English Royal Agricultural society,
to be held in London in July next, is to
take the form of an international agri
cultural exhibition. The prize list, so
far as it has been made up at present, is
on an exceedingly liberal scale. The
Western dairymen have announced that
they would take part Li the exhibition,
and other American agricultural inter
ests will probably be represented.
On the numerous bookstands which
line the narrow, erowded thoroughfares
of Canton, China, the most conspicuous,
even among old classical books, is a
work wrapped in a bright yellow paper
cover and entitled “The Vulgar Tongue
of the Red-Haired Barbarians.” It was
printed in the beginning of this cen
tury, and every aspiring boy or future
coolie makes it a rule to invest his half
dozen “cash” in the purchase of the
work, in order to learn the red-haired
tongue, or the English language on a
“ pidgin ” scale. *
Mrs. McCloskey and Mrs. Brock, in
mates of the Home of the Aged, in New
York city, died within a few hours of
each other. The former was 110 years
old, the latter 102. A few weeks pre
vious to their deaths two other inmates
died, one at 107 and the other at 102
years of age. These cases of longevity
are significant as indicating that the
people of to-day have as good a chance
of becoming centenarians as those of
former times, when the world was sup
posed to jog along easily and not go at
the “ higli-pressure ” speed prevailing
nowadays.
Meanings from the World’s Statistics.
Some interesting statistical points
may be gleaned from the pages of the
“ Statesman’s Year Book,” for 1879. In
population the empire of Russia rises to
86,286,139, of which all but eight mil
lions are in her European possessions.
This is some six millions more than is
conceded to Russia in Europe by Behm
and Wagner’s work on “ Bevolkerung
der Erde,” printed a year or two ago.
Great Britain, with her dependencies in
the East, musters a population of 285,-
250,000, of which the central nucleus of
intelligence and wealth that rales the
masses, the United Kingdom, contains
31,817,108. The German empire has
now a population of 42,727,360, of
which Prussia contains 25,742,404, while
her Gallic foe contains within France
proper 36,906,788, and with Algeria and
dependencies 43 424,470. China, whose
population a recent authority has esti
mated as low as 125,000,000, is given a
population of 425,213,152, the exact
figures in this case having a flavor of
humor, as no accurate census of China
is extant. In the familiar classification
of population to the square mile, Bel
gium keeps her old place at the head,
with 469; England and Wales are sec
ond with 389, Italy third with 238, and
Japan fourth with 209 and a total popu
lation of 32,784,897. The dissected Tur
key of 1878 has a population of 21,000,-
000 in both Europe and Asia, of which
only 4,275,000 are in Europe ; while
Greece, now making Europe ring with
her complaints, has a population of only
1,457,864, or about 250,000 less than
Servia,
Tho country of greatest fecundity is
Servia, with forty-six and six-tenths
births to every thousand of population.
Austria-Hungary stands second, with
42.8, as corresponding figures, and Ger
many third, with 40.8. Economical
France is lowest on the list, with 26.3.
In sanitary qualities Ireland ranks first,
with seventeen aud eight-tenths deaths
each year to each thousand of her peo
ple. Rugged Norway is second, with
19.1, and the most unhealthy country is
Austria-Hungary, with 33.5 deaths.
Discouraged seekers of matrimony
should go to Switzerland, where there
are twenty-three and two-tenths mar
riages to every thousand of population
each year, and they who would resist
connubial enticements will do so most
successfully in Ireland, where the par
allel figures are 12.1.
In the list of mercantile navies of the
world, Great Britain shows a tonnage of
6,399,869, while the United States come
second, with a tonnage of 4,538,183. Out
of England’s tonnage 4,888,560, or 350,-
377 more than all Uncle Sam’s tonnage
put together, was engaged exclusively
in foreign trade, while figures for the
United States are only 1,553,705. Of
American steamships engaged in foreign
trade the proportion is a trivial fraction,
while England has a steam tonnage of
1,627,411 engaged in trade with sister
nations.
A Schoolmaster as a Ringmaster.
In Edward Eggleston’s paper on
‘ Some Western Schoolmasters,” pub
lished in Scribner ocurs this anecdote
of school discipline in Indiana in the old
times: To a nervous child the old disci
pline was, indeed, very terrible. The
long beech switches hanging on hooks
against the wall haunted me night and
day, from the time I entered one of the
old schools. And whenever there came
an outburst between master and pupils,
the thoughtless child often got the beat
l iug that should have fallen upon the
malicious mischief-maker. As the mas
| ter was always quick to fly into a pas
sion, the fun-loving boys were always
happy to stir him up. It was an excit
i ing sport, like bull-baiting, or like pok
ing sticks through ajfence at a cross dog.
j Sometimes the ferocious master showed
I an ability on his own part to get some
! fun out of the conflict, as when on one
i occasion in a school in Ohio the boys
| were forbidden to attend a circus. Five
or six of them went, in spite of the pro
-1 hibition. The next morning the school
master called them out in the floor and
addressed them:
“So you went to the circus, did you ?
•* Yes sir.”
Well, the others did not get a chance
to see the circus. I want you boys to
show them what It looked like, and how
the horses galloped around the ring.
You will join your hands in a circle
about the stove. Now start 1”
With that he began whipping them
as they trotted around and around the
stove. This story is told, I believe, in
a little volume of “ Sketches,” by Erwin
House, now long forgotten, like many
other good books of Western literature
of a generation ago. 1 think the author
was one of the boys who “played
hone 'i i chs n wier's circus.
Possession by the Evil One.
A letter from a Roman correspondent
recently gave some remarkable details
’ about' a craze which has fallen upon
some inhabitants of a village in the
province of Udine. These wretched
people, unless cured by this time, be
lieve themselves to be possessed by the
devil. This is no new thing, for as
late as 1862 the village of Morzines, in
Savoy, was afflicted by what doctors call
“demonomania,” and the antics of the
“possessed” gave mnch trouble to the
French authorities. Savoy had just
been annexed to France, and Cardinal
Billiet, archbishop of Chambery, wrote
dismally to the Due de Persigny, minis
ter of the interior, explaining that the
craze had begun in 1857, and that exor
cism had been tried in vain, both on the
maniacs individually and on the villagers
collectively. M. de Persigny, who had
but a slight faith in religions rites as
curative agencies, ordered the prefect
of the Haute Savoie to cause all the de
monomaniacs to be arrested by the gens
d’armes and conveyed to lunatic asy
lums. This summary treatment worked
an instantaneous cure. The ‘ ‘ possess
ed ” who were lodged in madhouses,
with one or two exceptions eoou recov -
ered their reason; and the rest of the
inhabitants of Morzines took care not to
be smitten with the contagion. The
craze of “possession” is but one of the
many varieties of melancholia. The
patient in his morbid vanity believes
that the devil has marked him out for
a special visitation. To argue with such
a person, or to bring incantations to
bear against him, is to render him im
portant in his own eyes, aud thereby to
rouse the very sentiments which have
made him mad. Complete isolation,
douches of cold water on the head, and,
above all, a cool indifference to all that
the man says or does, are the surest
methods of curing the demonomaniac.
In old times the complaint of “pos
session ” was very frequent. It would
smite whole districts after cruel wars in
which populations had been reduced to
famine and become crazy from sheer
misery and want of food. In Russia the
ravings of the sect of “ Daimoniks ” are
known to have such an effect upon the
masses, reduced by misrule to the low
est state of poverty, that when a Dai
mo ik begins to howl in a public place,
the police instantly seize upon him or
her, and upon all surrounding folk who
show symptoms of derangement. This
is really the only way of dealing with
the complaint; and when we wonder at
the ferocity of our forefathers, who used
to hang or burn wholesale so-called
witches, who were but demonomaniacs,
we should make some allowance for the
fact that (error had been proved the
only method fit to cope with whole
populations tainted with the diabolical
spirit. In the year 1572 no fewer than
five hundred supposed witches were
burned at Genova; but at the time the
whole canton was infected, and business
had come to a standstill in the town in
consequence of lunatics going about and
screaming that the end of the world was
at hand.
In France trials for witchcraft were
abolished under the administration of
Colbert, after an affair in Normandy in
which six hundred people were impli
cated, and which resulted in seventeen
cf tliejn being sentenced to be hanged.
The trouble began about a rat, which
was alleged to have held diabolical
conversations with a little boy aged ten.
Louis XIV. quashed the judgment, or
dered the little boy to be whipped, and
compelled the seventeen demonomani
acs (who seem to have believed that the
rat was Satan) to choose between recant
ing their folly or being sent to prison.
Sixteen of them recanted; only one of
them—an old woman—suffered herself
to be put iu jail, where she died. Iu
England a “ witch ” was hanged as late
as the reign of Charles 11., upon a sen
tence of Sir Matthew Hale, and it was
not till 1736 that trials for witchcraft
were abolished by act of parliament in
that country.— Harper's Weekly.
He Thinks Food Should be Eaten Raw.
A German physician has started a
new theory with* regard to food. He
maintains that both the vegetarians and
meat-eaters are on the wrong tack. Veg
etables are not more wholesome than
meat, or meat than vegetables, and noth
ing is gained by consuming a compound
of both. Whatever nutritive qualities j
they may possess, he says, is destroyed
in great measure and often entirely by
the process of cooking. All food should
be eaten raw. If this practice were
adopted, there would be little or no ill
ness among human beings. They would
live their apportioned time and simply
fade away, like animals in a wild state,
from old age. Let those afflicted with
gout, rheumatism or indigestion try for
a time the effect of a simple uncooked
diet, such as oysters and fruit for in
stance, and they will find all medicines
unnecessary, and such a rapid improve
ment of their health that they wdl for
swear all cooked articles of food at once
and forever. Intemperance would also, j
it is urged, no longer be the curse of
civilized communities. Tue yearning for
drink is caused by the unnatural ab- i
straction from what are termed “ solids ”
of the aqueous element they contain—
uncooked beef, for example, containing
from seventy to eighty per cent., and
some vegetables even a larger propor- j
tion of water. There would be less
thirst, and consequently less desire to
drink, if our food were consumed in its
natural state, without first being sub
jected to the action of fire. Clothing,
our adviser also thinks, is a mistake,
but he admits that the world is not yet
far enough advanced in civilization to
go about undressed. Whatever differ
ences of opinion may exist as to this
anti-cooking theory, there cannot be a
doubt that in getting rid of the kitchen
with all its abuses—including the cook
—housekeepers would be spared a vast
amount of worry, and probably on this
account alone would live to a greater
age than at present. —Pall Mall Ga
zette.
The Ring Finger.
Each finger has its distinctive and its
individual habits. The third finger,
which has less independent motion than
either of the others, has the compensa
ting honor of being the ring finger; and
Dr. Humphrey believes it owes its
honor to its deficiency, and not, as tra
dition tells, to the belief of the ancients,
that it is connected by some particular
nerve with the heart, so more readily to
convey or receive sympathetic impres
sions. “It cannot,” he says, “be bent
or straightened much without being ac
companied by one or both of those next
to it. This is partly because its exterior
tendon is connected by means of a band
of fibers with the tendon on either side
of it. You may discern these connect
ing bands working up and down under
the skin of the back of the hand when
you move the fingers to and fro. The
ring finger is therefore always more or
less protected by the other Angers; and
it owes to this circumstance a compara
tive immunity from injury, as well,
probably, as the privilege of being
selected' especially to bear the ring in
matrimony. The left hand is chosen
for a similar reason; a ring placed upon
it being less likely to be damaged tEan
it would be upon the right hand.
The iron beams of the new Chicago
custom-house have been ruined by rust,
and will have to be replaced by the gov
ernment at a cost of 810,000.
VOL. V. NO. 26.
FOR THE YOUNG PEOPLE.
JI Valentine.
Ob, baby, with the roguish laugh,
And eves so soft and brown.
With dimpled cheeks and rosy mouth,
And hair like thistle-down,
I've something sweet to tell you, dear,
80 listen, baby mine !
I lore you. love you ! Will you be
Valentine ?
The Valentine Postbey.
I once 6aw a picture by the famous
Mr. Cruikshank, of a young postman,
or rather boy, on a galloping donkey,
hutrying along with his bags filled with
valentines, and his quiver full of ar
rows; and then I looked closely, and
saw that the pretty little fellow had
wings on his shoulders, so I suppose it
was Cupid himself, who was delivering
his own valentines.
Underneath the picture were these
lines:
“ Where can the postman be, I eay?
He onght to fly, on such a day;"
Of all days in the year, you know,
It’s very rude to be so elow.
The fellow is exceeding stupid;
Hark! there he is! Oh, the dear Cupid!”
In the city of London, two hundred
thousand letters more than the usual
number pass through the postoffice on
St. Valentine's day ! No wonder that
the poor postmen are all “tired to
death ” before the day is over.
In some of the counties of England
they have very curious customs on St.
Valentine’s eve. One is to get five bay
leaves and pin them on the pillow—one
at each corner, and one in the middle ;
then the person they dream of is their
“Valentine.” But to make it more
sure, they sometimes boil an egg very
hard, take out the yelk and fill it with
salt, then eat it, and go to bed without
speaking or drinking ; then of course,
they'll bo sure to dream about the right
“ Valentine.”
In the county of Kent, many years
ago, the girls in all'the villages used to !
meet together and burn in a bonfire
what they called the “Holly Boy,”'
which was a figure made of holly
boughs; while in another part of the
village the boys would meet together
and burn the “Ivy Girl,” which was a
figure made of the beautiful English
ivy, that grows so plentifully over the
old houses, and churches, and ruins in
all parts of the country.
So in almost every county they have
some peculiar customs in which chil
dren, as well as grown folks, take a
part on this day.
I don’t believe any one could tell ns
the meaning of these old customs, only
“My father and mother and grand
father and grandmother kept Valentine’s
day in this way, and of course we must.”
But the postmen are likely to have a
busy time of it for many years to come,
on the 14th of February, both in old
England and in New England, too.
(■randmother’s Advice.
I want to give two or three rules.
One is:
Always look at the person you speak
to. When you are addressed, look
straight at the person who speaks to
you. Do not forget this. _
Another is:
Speak your words plain _ _
mutter nor mumble If
saying, they are worth r--~ =
tinctly and clearly. * I O
A third is: VS
Do not say disagr
you have nothing pl( MANUFACTI
silent.
A fourth is—and, % # ♦♦
member it all your liv£- uV fl t
Think three times beJ ”
once. ‘Miiinftiii
Have you something to'Jnlj || |\Ju
find hard and would preh* ■■
Then listen to a wise old g>MßdifiotL> .
Do the hard things first, and get over
with it. If you have done wrong, go
and confess it. I? your lesson is tough,
master it. If the garden is to be weed
ed, weed it first and play afterward.
Do the thing you don’t like to do first,
and then, with a clear conscience, try
the rest.
A Pilot’s Heroism.
Mr. William C. Underwood, the brave
pilot of the steamer A. C. Donnally,
which burned to the water’s edge beiow
Cairo, on the Mississippi, gave the fol
lowing account of the disaster to a re
porter: “Shortly after eight o’clock on
Friday evening, when the Donnally was
about seven miles below Cairo, at Island
No. 1, an alarm of fire was sounded, and
I was ordered to laud the boat. We
were then in the middle of the river, and
I immediately pulled for the Kentucky
shore. The night was very dark, and I
could see but a solitary star, and soon
the darkness was intensified by the dense
smoke which rolled up around the pilot
house and environed it like a black cloud.
I stayed at the wheel as long as I could
without choking, and while at my post I
could hear the passengers crying most
piteously, ‘Land her I land her 1’ As
soon as I was certain that the boat had
struck the shore, I pulled the starboard
engine-bell and left. As I came out of
the pilothouse the smoke was so thick
that I could hardly see a foot in front of
me. I managed with difficulty to get
over the texas to the wheelhouse, and
thence down the back steps to the ladies’
cabin. There I met my partner, William
Attenborough, and two chambermaids.
The fire was then spreading fast, and
had completely cut off all passage to the
bow of the boat. I told my companions
to get life-preservers, and I ran into the
cabin to get one for myself, but the
smoke drove me back. I made a second
attempt, but I was again foiled. The
chambermaids were more lortunate, and
! had secured preservers. I told them to
i jump into the river. One of them said,
< Great God! I am gone 1’ and then
i sprang into the water. The other slid
down the outside of the wheelhouse into
the river. Both were picked up by a
yawl. Mr. Attenborough jumped into
; the river and swam ashore. I waited
, until the wheel quit turning before I
really began to study how 1 was to get
: ashore. It had been a long time since
I had been in the water, and I did not
; know how far I could swim. I was per
feetly cool, and, after taking, in the sit
: uation, I saw a drift-pile about a hun- !
djed feet off. I thought the current
had been cut off by the boat’s bow, so I
took off my shoes and my overcoat find
sprang into the river. I had hardly got
into the water before I found the cur
rent very swift and strong, and soon I
felt that" I was going under. Just as I
was aUbnt to sink, the watchman of the
boat, who was on shore, ran out to the
edge of the drift and contrived to reach
me and pull me out of the water on to
the drift. T© this man lam indebted
for my life. I had no sooner got on
shore than a crowd of people collected
about me, telling me that 1 had saved
their lives, and wanting to know what
they could do for me. I was so cold
and chilled that I could scarcely speak;
seeing which, Mr. Brice Purcell, the
second clerk of the boat, came forward
and gave me his overcoat and shoes.
What I did for the boat was merely my
duty, and any other pilot would have
done the same had he been in my
place.”
r
All these events, and many more, may
penflcd on the single, unstudied,’mo
mentary act of a man who is quite free
to da that act, or to leave it undone.
THE OGLETHORPE ECHO.
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ITEMS OF INTEREST.
The write man in the write place
| The editor.
Muskrats now enjoy protection under
i the law of Ohio.
Whatever good an umbrella performs,
: it is “ put up” to it.
Cincinnati is not the Paris of Amerioa.
It is the Ham burg.
The Australian dog and the shepherd
j dog of Egypt never bark.
“I hope I see yon well,” as the
! bncket said when it touched the water.
A Boston author can chase his hat on
a windy day in thirteen different lan
guages.
A married man sometimes finds him
self to be an April fool soon after the
wedding March.
Lawyers are never more earnest than
when they work with a will—that is, if
; the estate is valuable.
The new professor of physics and as
tronomy in the Kansas university is only
twenty-one years old. •
Country editors would 1 ke *o have
Congress pass an “arrears of subscrip
tion bill.”— Detroit Post.
A country editor who was elected
town constable immediately began to
arrest the attention of his readers.
The man who unexpectedly sat down
in some waim glue thinks there a more
than one way of getting badly stuck.
The eloquence of some orators inspires
a Chicago paper to wish that mankind
were endowed with earlids as well as
eyelids.
The Minnesota millers use horseshoe
magnets to get pieces of binding wire
from wheat. They work “ like a
charm.”
“ You onght to husband your coal
more,” said the charity woman. “ I
always does. I makes him sift ashes
and pick the cinders.”
The St. Petersburg paper having the
largest circulation is called The Neeva,
or “Cornfield.” Of course it makes a
specialty of cereal stories.
The duke of Sutherland, in England,
owns 1,358,425 acres of land. The next
largest landowner is the dnke of Bnc
clengh and Qoeensbnrgh—4sß,36o acres.
Yung man, if yu expekt to snkceed in
this world, yu hav got to trundle yurs
owu hoop; the jealousy of friends and
the malignity ov enemys make the road
to sukcess a hard one to travel.
It makes a young man feel very mnch
as if some things in the world were all
vain to sing, “ Come to my bosom, come
love,” under a window, and then bappen
to see a sign, “ To let,” on the door.
Tung man, if yn make a mistake the
best thing yu kan do iz to own it, and
not make another; there never waz a
mistake made yet, i don’t kare how well
it waz bnried, that didn’t dig oat sum
time.
Time may obliterate the hovels and
make them mansions ; it may make poor
men millionaries ; but it can never take
away the man by the grocery stove who
ha 3 just been reminded of an adventure
he had during the war, and which he
would like to relate to the crowd.
, A little boy hearing some oße remark
-at nothing was quicker than thought,
=L “ I know something that is quicker
Q Ifebonght.” “ What is it, Johnny
Ij fVis pa. “ Whistling,” said Johnny.
nftt I was in school yesterday, I
KKRkled before I thou.ht, and get licked
jk too.”
I y.Vkat I want to get at is the animus
transaction,” said the judge.
Juit, vonr honor,” said the com plain
“ there wasn’t any muss at all. He
ftrne up quiet-like and grabbed the
Jfct, and was off with it before I saw
•what he was at. No, sir ; there wasn’t
any muss.”
Anew preacher used the word “op
tics” in his sermon, and, at the conclu
sion of the service, a farmer who was
present thanked him for his discourse,
but intimated that he had made a mis
take in one word. “ What you call hop
ticks,” he said, “in this part of the
country we call hop-poles.”
There is peace in power: the men who speak
With the loudest tongues do lea-t;
And the surest sign of a mind that is weak
Is its want of power to rest.
It is only the iighter water that flies
From the eea on a windy day;
And the deep, bine ocean never replies
To the sibilant voice of the rpray.
—John Boyle O'Reilly.
“ Please draw upon the blackboard an
interrogation point,” said a teacher to
one of her pupils. “ Can’t make a good
one,” replied the boy. “ Draw a boot
buttoner I” said the teacher ; “ that will
answer.” The boy took the crayon and
draw a hairpin. Sharp rebuke by the
teacher. Other scholars smile.
One morning recently an English
sparrow was hopping about at Ports
mouth, N. H., industriously picking up
his breakfast, when another sparrow
flew down from a limb above, clasped
the first sparrow in his claws, flew up
into the tree with the captive, placed
him on a limb, and then flew away,
being quickly followed by the other.
Nothing appeared to be the matter with
sparrow numbt r one, nor was there any
fight between the two; and three gentle
men who saw the occurrence could not
conceive of any reason for the act of the
second sparrow other than a desire to
play a practical joke on the first by un
ceremoniously carrying him away from
his breakfast.
A marked effect of the failure of pub
lie life insurance companies is the in -
crease in the mutual beneficial associa
tions among secret societies. Asa rule,
the assessments per death amount only
to one dollar. Some of the older aeso
ciations, having a considerable fund in
vested, pay stated sums at death, from
8500 upward, the average being SI,OOO.
A compilation of annual reports for the
year 1877 places the number of such as
sociations in the United States in that
year at 204, with a membership of 155,-
686, divided a* follows: Masonic, 65,
798; Odd Fellows, 38,280; other similar
societies, 61,648. The total number of
deaths was 5,476; the death rate per
cent. 1.03; average amount paid by de
ceased members, $18.02; average amount
of insurance paid, 3710.34; and average
cost of insurance, $6.93 per SI,OOO. The
sum paid to beneficiaries by Masonic
organizations was $3,996,704.85; by
Odd Fellows, $1,457,490.60, and by
others, $2,113.136.74 —making the hand
some total of 87,567,332.09.
The Story of a Cow-Bell.
A correspondent of the Cincinnati
I Gazette sends the- following story of a
law case from Floyd county, Ind.:
“ Mayfield and Featheringill were well
-1 to-do farmers. One of Mayfield’s cows
dropped a bell from her peck, in the
woods,that cost fifty cents,- and was half
worn, and was supposed to be worth
twenty-five cents when lost. One of
, FeatheringiU’s boys, in passing through
the woods one day, found a cow-bell.
! Mayfield claimed that it was his bell,
and demanded it Featheringill refused
to give it up. Mayfield then replevin pd
it, and then commenced a lawsuit that
absorbed the farms and personaj estate
of the contestants. Not being able to
pay lawyers’ fees any longer,>the lawyers
refused to serve in the case, a*d th* lit
igants were compelled to oomprottflse,
which they did by each agreeing topay
his own costs, which amounted to <fver
$1,560 a side or an aggregate'(rf over
SB,OOO. - - " -