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THE OGLETHORPE ECHO.
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I Go to Bed*
When I have lost all faith in rnan,
Or failed to consummate some plan;
When women lair are cold, unkind,
Anti tiling, accord not with my mind,
I do not rashly tteize my pen
And in a flurry there and then
Declare thin gladsome world to be
Ojw f'ft'JioM round of vanity;
Aii' no, for this were mockery—
I go to bed.
• * i through my head there darts a pain
Aid! life HceriiH an increasing bane,
U ;>*••* iriend.s their patronage withhold,
And emlitors become too bold,
1 <!<> not in Boclii*don mourn,
Aii ! curse the hour when 1 was bom—
I go to bed.
U ,icm Horne I). !>, deserts his creed,
And n i.it-kfi tlieir many victims bleed;
W ben editor* write nharji replies,
A:, moneyed men keep b.ick supplies,
I ’> n<t then, in juom and verse,
linp’ore the gods mankind to curse—
I go to bed.
A couple.?, marry in great haste,
And servants pilfer, fret and waste;
\V hen general courts their terms prolong,
In short, when things get. nomewhat wrong
J do not bite my lips and scowl,
And ai the children snap and growl—
I go to bed.
I go to bed and soundly sleep,
V. idle lriendly angels vigils keep;
Hut if, however, 1 uwuke
Before my ailments me forsake,
1 do not of my life complain, a
But try tin? remedy again—
And back to bed.
• who have griefs (ami who has not?)
Lt*l past prescriptions )m forgot,
My panacea lor old and young
Is given in the Knglish tongue,
It hath to untold millions wrought
SwfM.*ti*st rclid, nor cost them aught;
And now it you, like these, would he
l iotn every pain and trouble free,
IJglil a small lamp and come with me—
-1 go to bed.
The Wreck of the “ Pioneer."
I Ini pi i Keystone was one of those men
wiio combine :i talent for practical
tilings with an active imagination. He
was at the same lime a most unpractical
man in allairs of business. Kike all im
aginative men, lie early found a woman
whom be could clothe in ideal charms,
and then fell in love with her. Jane
Ilesant was the only daughter ot Farmer
Uesar.t, who owiiril and operated an im
mense wheat farm not far from the vil
lageof Muskalontic. To Fanner Besant
went Ralph in the first llusli of his love
for Jane.
“ You wish to marry Jane?”
The young man replied. “ Not immedi
ately,” for just at the time lie was out ot
employment.
‘ That's .just it, Keystone,” said the
farmer; “you are out of work for the
fourth time since you came front the
East How can you marry on so un
certain a prospect? You are too un
stable; you do not stick to anything.”
Ralph admitted he had been unfortu
nate in his ventures; but he still had a
little money left, and lie would now go
into some manufacturing business.
“Manufacturing, indeed! There’s
nothing but farms within fifty miles.
Wheat is the only thing that pays here,
unless it lie lumber, and there isn’t a
sawmill within a hundred miles.”
“Then I might start one,” said Ralph,
catching at this straw, for lie felt him
self sinking. He could make no head
way against this hard, practical man,
who knew nothing beyond wheat.
“Start a sawmill!* Where’s your
power? And, if you had it, how could
you compete with the mills up the
river? Look here, Ralph, I don’t want
to lie hard on you. I see you love Jane
and Jane loves you—at least she seems
to think so.”
“That’s the truth.” said Ralph. “We
love each other dearly.”
“Now I’ll make a bargain with you.
If you will go into some business, and
make it a success, you shall have Jane—
that is, if she wants you.”
“ Thank you, sir,” said the young man.
“ I’ll start the sawmill at once.”
The road to the village followed the
river for some distance through Farmer
lies ant's land, and then turned east
through the woods toward the village.
Ralph walked along in a dazed fashion
mentally numb with Ills refusal, his body
walking automatically, just as it will
when the mind is absorbed in contem
plation. At the turn of the road his feet
took the right direction lor home, but
after going a few steps he stopped
abruptly, and turned back to the river.
The Muskalontic is a wide, shallow
stream, winding sluggishly through tin
country, its banks being hereabouts
heavily fringed with woods.
The young man left the road and fol
lowed the shore down stream, walking
quickly. as if looking for something
Like all imaginative people, he had been
given to wandering about the country,
and was familiar with the land for miles
around Muskalontic. He remembered
having seen falling into the river, be
tween two low hills, a slender brook,
half lost in the woods.
Just as lie had supposed. It was a
living stream, still running, though it
was August, lie looked at the tiny run
fora moment, and then started briskly
up its winding channel, carefully noting
the slope and character.of the ground.
After walking a short distance he found
the little valley narrowed, and then
spread out into a slough, a marsh, where
tile stream was lost in pools and sedges.
Like a prospector searching for pre
cious metals when he finds a vein, he
threw up his hat with a cheer.
" I've won her! I fancy the old gen
tleman will let us marry now.”
Just then there value through tin
woods the sound of a passing steamer on
the river, and the young man smiled.
“I’ll beat those fellows yet. They
take all this trade up t lie river, and leave
this farming region to stagnate. We
must have manufactures here, and they
shall begin with a sawmill."
Keystone sat up ail night over his
drawing-paper and pencils. Two days
after saw three woodman felling trees by
! to little brook. The land belonged to 1
farmer Resant, and he had consented
that a dxm should be erected thereon. If
Keystone was fool enough to sink his
money in improving the bit of water
power he thought he had found, he was
at liberty to do so. provided he gave half
the work when finished to the landowner,
with half the lumber eut on the land.
If lie failed, then all the lumber was to
remain on the land. Pretty hard terms,
but Ralph accepted them on the spot.
Axe in hand lie headed the woodmen,
directing the fall of each tree, so as to
save labor in hauling the logs. When
about a hundred trees were down he or
ganized his force into ehoppers.and began
to get out logs of everv size. A pair of
oxen were hired, and things began to
assume shape. Heavy logs laid end to
end in a double row stretched across the
little vuiley,and marked the foundation
of tbe dam. Stout st akes were driven on
the >w sate, and shorter logs laid up
stream,with the ends restingon the heavy
timbers, raised the dam about one foot.
The news quickly spread through the
country round ab- at. Young Keystone
had found water over—in other words,
wealth—in the tie brook. Within
three weeks the dam had been raieed
three feet, and tl ■ water began to back
up behind it, spreading out over the
marsh in a slowly widening pond. Then
the people began to laugh. Keystone
was a fool, after all. What could"he do
with only three feet fall of water?
The next day a small army of labor
er# appeared in the woods, and by night
they had dug a long ditch or canal from
Oglethorpe Echo.
By T. L, SANTT.
the river up the bed of the brook. Two
days after it reached the foot of the dam,
and brought the river water close up to
the logs. At the upper end it was five
feet deep. Five and three make eight.
Eight feet fall in the clear. Here’s
power in abundance. Thereupon the
no-lookers said the young man was a
smart fellow, a good engineer, etc., etc.
\\ itliin a week the village carpenter had
constructed a water-wheel from Ralph’s
designs. Within two weeks saws and
gearing arrived, a shed was put up, and
the sawmill was opened for business.
The first job was for a lot of two-inch
plank for Farmer Besant. He claimed
that he was half owner of the mill by
their agreement, and would only pay half
the bill. Keystone took the job, and
soon had it finished, and even ran through
a lot of logs and piled up the planks on
sale. Sundry small jobs came in, and it
began to look as if he had started a good
business. One morning a stranger ar
rived, and introduced himself as a lumber
dealer from a town fifty miles down the
river. He was in search of a lot of small
stuff, light scantling two inches wide and
an inch and a half thick, in lengths of
twelve feet and upward. He wanted a
million feet, and he offered a good price,
and gave his name and references. The
offer was tempting, and Ralph took it,
and agreed to have the stuff ready in two
weeks. Encouraged by his success, he
hired more help, and started on the new
order. In ten days he wrote to the party
to say that the scantling was nearly all
ready, and could be put on a raft and
floated down the river. No reply came,
and he wrote again, and in a few days re
ceived a notification of the failure of the
lumber dealer, and an account of the
winding up of his affairs.
Discouraged and sick at heart, lie
wandered down by the river and sat
down on a fallen tree alone. Everything
was lost. He could never marry Jane.
A large part of his lumber had been cut
up into a useless and unsalable shape,
and lie was in debt to his men. In fool
ishly trusting the word of a stranger he
had made a wreck of everything. When
the mind is ill at ease a trifling circum
stance will often absorb the whole atten
tion, and as ne sat gloomily brooding
over the ruin of hopes, he saw a steam
boat rounding the bend of the river
about a mile up stream. She was steer
ing dangerously near a half-sunken
island in the middle of the river. He
watched her with a vague curiosity as
she came swiftly onward. Suddenly she
turned, and with apparent purpose ran
directly across the upper end of the
island, struck, and grounded. He could
see the wheels reversed, and in a mo
ment after saw the wildest confusion
among the passengers on hoard. Spring
ing up, he ran at full speed along the
bank till lie came opposite the stranded
boat.
It was a freight and passenger steamer
—the Pioneer by name. She blew her
whistle loudly, and a moment after he
saw a boat lowered. For an instant
there was some confusion*on the steamer
as if the people were demoralized, but a
tall fellow interfered, and order was re
stored. The boat came slowly ashore,
and by the time* it reached the bank all
his mill hands and several farming peo
ple had arrived in an excited crowd on
the hank. In the boat came the captain
of the steamer. As he sprang ashore he
said to Ralph:
“ Are there any boats or barges about
here ?”
“ Nothing but a punt or two, Can’t
you bring your passengers ashore in your
own boats?”
“Botherthe passengers! I can land
them easy enough. It’s the cargo. The
steamer will never come off. The tiller
rope broke, and she ran nose on at full
speed. The old Pioneer had laid down
her bones forever. Poor old tub! I pity
her.”
*• I’ll take your cargo ashore, or down
stream to any point you say, in three
days, for five hundred dollars.”
“Oh, you’ve a barge or two. Why
didn’t you say so?” I’ll hire ’em of you.”
“ I have no barge, but I’ll make one
in twenty-four hours—foY cash. I have
a sawmill just back of here.”
“ I’ll give you five hundred dollars if
you’ll put the cargo on a flat within
three days. I can’t get a steamer up here
in less than two days, and it will cost
almost as much, though I don’t see how
you’re going to make a flat in that time.”
“ That’s my look-out. I’ll have a barge
’longside before to-morrow night.”
“It will take two barges. Heavy
cargo this trip.”
“ If I leave a single barrel behind. I’ll
forfeit a hundred dollars. You can take
the passengers to the village. Some
of the folks will give them lodging till
tlie boats come up on Monday.’
The captain agreed to the bargain, and
put off to bring his passengers ashore.
“Johnson,” said Ralph to one of thp
young nifji, “go to the painter’s, and
tell him to send me three men and a lot
of white-lead paint. Then get two kegs
of sixpenny nails and bring them to the
mill. Take my horse. Pick up all the
men you can find. I want all the car
penters in the place to work day and
night on a good job.”
Ten minutes later a dozen men, with
carpenters’ tools, stood ready in the mill
yard waiting for orders,
“ I was born next door to a Massachu
setts shipyard,” said Ralph, “ and . I
know something about boat-building. I
am going to make a barge big enough
for a steamboat. Let every man do ex
actly as I tell him, and we will have her
launched before to-morrow night. Every
man shall have double pay while at work
on the boat.”
The men gave a cheer, and said they j
were ready tor anything. It seemed as !
if it might be true, for in a moment after
they were carrying long two-inch planks
down to the river bank. Here a space
was cleared next the water, and four
lines of timber “ways,” or slides, were
laid down.heading into the water, se
curely fastened together, and then liber
ally spread with grease and oil. Then,
under Ralph’s direct ions, two-ineh planks
were laid side by side on the ways till a
platform was made one hundred and
eighty feet long and about twenty feet
wide in the center. More men began to
arrive, and every one who could drive
nails was promptly engaged, and within
•n hour forty men were at work on the
new boat. t
With chalk and line Ralph struck a
line through the center of the platform,
and from tills struck out a curved line
on each side, and then bade the men
saw off the planks to the curved line.
This gave a long slender platform, ten
feet wide at the upper end, or stern,
twenty feet wide near the center, and
running off to a long slender point at
the lower end. or bows, of the future
boat. Then upon this platform was laid
a rough coat of paint, a dozen men ply
ing the brushes at once, and then came
more planks, laid lengthwise. The two
platforms were cut to the same form,
and were quickly spiked together.
The men suggested that such a long
and slender raft would never hold to
gether.
“ Wait and see,” said Ralph. “ Now
for the scantling we have been getting
out at the mill. Bring it down by the
cart-load. Now, men. have your bits
ready for boring nail-holes in the stuff.
Make the holes a foot apart the whole
length of the strips.”
In a moment or twa several pieces of
scantling were ready, and taking one in
hand Ralph laid it along the edge of the
raft and nailed it down, then "another,
till a strip had been laid entirely round
the raft. As the strips were long and
flexible, they were easily bent to fit the
! curved lines of the platform. At the
upper end the cross-pieces were nailed
together, and at the bow end the strips
were brought to a point and fitted to an
upright piece set up at the ena of the
platform. Then through the center of
the platiorm was laid another strip from
end to end, while at intervals of about
five feet cross-pieces were laid from side
to side.
" Now, men, you see my idea. Lay
strip over strip, and nail them firmly one
THE ONLY PAPER IN ONE OP THE LARGEST, MOST INTELLIGENT AND WEALTHIEST COUNTIES IN GEORGIA.
to the other through the holes, till the
sides are six feet high; break the joints
of the strips and nail-holes; lay on the
paint freely as you go, and we shall
soon have a steamboat without ribs.
The cross-pieces will brace her, and
she 11 carry a big cargo, even if she isn’t
very pretty.”
The men, unaccustomed to marine
architecture, greeted this novel system
of boat-building with pleasant surprise,
and went to work with a will. More
men arrived, and the clatter of twenty
hammers going on at once made the
woods ring. The sun went down, and
torches and bonfires wpre lighted. A'boy
was sent round for the men’s suppers
that there might be no delay. The pas
sengers of the wrecked steamer were be
stowed in sundry farmhouses, Farmer
Besant taking his share at Jtwo dollars
each. The news of the boat-building
spread quickly, and the people flocked
down to the mill-yard to see the work,
and with them came all the passengers.
Among them came Farmer Besant and
the captain of the Pioneer. The farmer
walked about the curious structure now
rapidly rising, and seeing the enormous
consumption of scantling, he remon
strated in no pleasant mood.
“ What right have you to use up your
customer’s stuff in this way?”
“ He’s failed,” said Keystone, without
topping his work.
“How do you know? He may claim
it, and you are spoiling thousands of
feet of good stuff on a piece of folly.”
“ Don’t know about that,” said a big
fellow near by. “ It’s about the smart
est idee I ever seen. Guess you belong
East, young man?”
“ Massachusetts. I’ve seen many a
boat built without ribs, though none
quite so big. She’ll carry your cargo,
captain.”
“Oh. she will when she’s decked. I
say, young feller, don’t you want to sell
her just as she stands?”
“ No. She is to be a steamboat.”
Farmer Besant felt confirmed in his
views of young Keystone. He was a
born fool—come from the very home of
lunatics and visionaries.
“ I’ll give you three hundred dollars
tor her just as she stands, and finish her
myself.”
“The Jane is not for sale.”
“ Jane for sale? Don’t insult the girl,
Mr. Ralph.”
‘A little more paint—lay it on thick!”
Then he turned away to drive more
nails.
Farmer Besant went home, intending
to tell J ane of the insult she had received.
He would never speak to Keystone again,
neither should Jane. Luckily Jane had
gone to bed when lie returned and knew
nothing of the building of the boat.
Morning came and saw the sides of the
boat well advanced. Some men left for
home and 'rest, and others took their
places. Even some ot the passengers
volunteered as painters and nail-dpivers.
There was no thought of the Sabbath.
The excitement of tiie wreck, the arrival
of so many strangers and the boat build
ing brought everybody out of doors,
and the yard was filled with people
watching the progress of the work.
Among them came one with shining
eyes and a rosy blush upon her face. The
name of her lover was on every tongue.
The marked approval of the captain of
the steamer, and the enthusiasm of his
engineer, won the confidence of the rural
population. Keystone had always been
considered an eccentric sort of fellow,
but now, after all, there might be some
thing in him. These things she heard
and treasured in her heart. She kept
out of sight in the crowd, but saw every
thing and heard everything with the
greatest interest and pleasure. There
was a man painting letters in blue on
the stem of the new boat. He had made
a J, an A and an N, and was at work on
another letter. Ah, Jane—her name!
There was quite a company of people
watching the man, and when the name
was finished there was a little shout of
approval.
“ I allers said he was dreffle sweet on
Squire Besant’s darter.”
“ Sho! That’s a pretty idee, anyway.”
She blushed scarlet, and slipped away
and went up to the deserted sawmill,
and sat down on a log by the little water
fall. Suddenly someone stood beside
her.
“Oh, Jane! It’s all over. I have
failed, and to-morrow your father will
take the mill. That lumber dealer has
failed, and that brings me down.”
“Can’t you sell the lumber?” said
Jane, with ready common sense.
“ I have used a part of it in making
the barge. If I get the money for sav
ing the cargo, I shall have just enough
to pay everv bill, but with nothing left.”
She stood up, and placing a hand on
each shoulder calmly kissed him.
“ Thank you, love, for the compli
ment.”
“ I liPard the on gineer saY the—the
Jane would make a good freight steamer
if she were engined.”
“Did he? That’s not a bad idea. I
had thought she would make some kind
of a craft. Oh! Perhaps I could buy
the engines out of the steamer. They
will sell them cheap.
“I thought you had failed and lost
everything.”
“ No. I can’t fail while I have you.”
What further sentiment he would
have indulged in cannot be known, for
someone called them.
“ She’s ’bout ready to slide,” said the
big captain. Seeing Jane, he took off
his hat and said, politely, “Will the
young lady name the boat ?”
“The boat is named the Jane Besant.
Let me present my friend Miss Besant,
captain.’
“ Glad to meet you, miss. I called my
boat the Nancy K., after my wife. It
brings luck.”
The built-up sides of the boat and the
interior cross-work that braced her and
held the hull together in every direction
had been raised six feet high. Boards
were laid down on top to form a deck,
and she was ready to be put afloat. The
captain and the engineqj-, Ralph and
about a dozen men armed with long poles,
mounted the deck. The word was given,
the blocks were knocked away, and
down she slid swiftly into the water
amid the cheers of the people. She set
tled dpwn in the water with a slight list
to one side, and the rural population
! gave a little cry of alarm.
“The cargo will ballast her,” said
Ralph. “ Get out your poles, men, and
push her along the shore till we come to
the steamer.”
The Jane Besant was quickly brought
round, and went up stream, followed "by
an enthusiastic multitude on the shore.
Shortly after, the barge was secured
alongside the wreck, and the men begar
to put the cargo on board. She did nol
leak a drop, and appeared to be as stifi
and strong as the best ribbed boat afloat.
She was very buoyant, and readily
minded the rude rudder that had been
hung at the stern.
“ I shall be glad to consider your pro
posal, sir. to-morrow!”
“ Come in my cabin—l guess it isn’t
wholly wrecked. Come, Sates, I want
you too.”
The young man followed the captain
and his engineer into the cabin ami-sat
down, while the captain ordered some
wine and lunch. When the lunch came,
the captain began to be expansive.
“Sheonly wants a little more sheer,
* deck and house and engines.
She 11 not be a fast boat, but she’ll go in
shallower water than anything on the
river. She 11 be running regular trips
when the big boats are laid up for low
watr - Tei! you what I’ll do, young
man. 111 put engines in her, and make
her a stern-wheeler. Mebbe you can
raise enough to put a house on her. I’ll
! go halves with you in the business.
VV e can haul her ashore and sheathe her
bottom to make it smooth, and make a
good thing of it. What d’ you say ? Is
it a bargain?”
"Then it would be a bargain—if it
wasn’t Sunday. All right. We’ll go
ashore this evening and hear the parson.”
Two months later the purser off 1 s
new freight and passenger boat Jane Be
LEXINGTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, AUGUST 29, 1879.
sant opened ‘.lie books of the boat for
business. There was a line of passengers,
headed by one of the boat’s servants, al
ready waiting at the ticket-window.
“ Air. and Mrs. Ralph Keystone—oh,
yes—all right—free passes. Give them
the bridal-room, John; here’s the key.
Next!”— Harper's Bazar.
Original Matter.
He was a friend of mine, and used
frequently to drop in and give me advice
as to how I should run my paper.
He was a minister, and consequently
thought I should devote it a little more
to the cause of religion and not quite so
much to polities.
He said it could be made a power for
good in the Western land in which we
had both cast our fortunes.
He was a lover of the original, too,
and said he disliked to see reprint, and
thought I should write more—take the
time, in fact, to fill the paper right up
with good stuff. It seemed such an easy
thing for him that one day I ventured to
say:
“Brother, you had a glorious meeting
at tile schoolhouse, I hear. Suppose you
write it up for me?”
He didn’t seem to act as though he
wanted to.
I urged.
He flushed a little and stood around
awkward like. He had never been hon
ored with an invitation to write for the
press before.
I still urged.
Then he took off his gloves and his
hat. Then I gave him a seat at the
table, with paper and pencil.
He sat down to editorial work.
He was always talking about how it
should be done, and now lie was at it.
He started in.
I went about my work. and. having
written up a column or two of matter
for _ the paper, .eft him still writing,
while I went out to solicit some adver
tisements.
I was gone an hour or two, and when
I came back he was still at it.
He was sweating awfully.
The table and floor were white with
ropy paper, and the pencil in liis hand
was much diminished in length.
I went to dinner.
When I returned he was at it yet.
The pencil was shorter and he was
wetter. It was summer.
The hours dragged along into the
middle of the afternoon.
Great cords stood out on the preacher’s
heated brow.
His eyes were bent on the dazzling
white paper before him and his pencil
was a stub. I began to grow frightened.
I knew I had only a small weekly paper,
and that its fourteen columns of space
(one side was patent inward) would
not hold the contents of the Bible and
supplemented messages from heaven
besides.
At last the man looked up and timidly
advanced with a piece of paper in one
hand, and suddenly went back to change
a word.
Then lie came on again, and, like one
who had passed through a vision, held
out a piece of paper and boldly asked:
“Will that do?”
I looked at it.
There were just seven lines of it,
advertising measure.
He was a large man, weighing over
300 pounds then, but when I met him
three weeks later he weighed less than
155.
He had been sick.
The seven-line nine-hour effort was
too much for him.
Neither did he compose for a paper
again.
It was hard work for 4iim to write,
and he saw he was not cut out for an
editor. —Chicago Evening Journal.
Seth Green’s Story.
Among the interesting men of Roches
ter, says a correspondent, is Seth Green,
the patron of fish culture in 'America.
He is a broad-shouldered man, with
square, scamanlike fhee, reddened by the
sun and good living. He lias a fine
white beard flowing over his chest, and
he generally wears a sort of brown vel
vet sacque and drives a good horse. He
is worth about .*55,000, accumulated as
a fisherman. I said to him, in the few
minutes’ conversation that we had:
“Mr. Green what put you in the notion
of hatching fish and re-stocking our
streams?” “I fished Lake Ontario,” he
said, “for about one generation. I had
100 miles of net and 100 hands before I
was done. I kept a fish-market in
Rochester, and supplied white fish,
salmon, trout, pickerel, etc., all over
the country. I was a good line fisher
man, and went up the streams leading
into the lake to get brook trout, salmon
and other game fish. One day when up
the stream I saw a fine female salmon
weighing about six pounds, come up
attended by her mate and three or four
other fish. I had time,to .jump behind
a tree and take an observation, and there
I saw the salmon begin to scoop out a
place in the bottom of the brook with
her tail. After scooping awhile she
would go off coquettish ly and then come
back, and the other fish seemed to help
her. It occurred to me that she was
putting her spawn down there beyond
the reach of other kinds of fish. There
is nothing in the world so delightful to
brook trout as to devour sulmon smawn.
“You know how salmon multiply.
Put the spawn out of sight and it will
multiply into little salmon; let it lie in
the water and the trout will eat it. I
became so interested in that incident
that I got up in the tree next day, and
made myself a kind of seat there among
the boughs, where I could look down in
the clear water at the operations of
those fish to protect their spawn. I
made up my mind then if I ever got a
little more money than would keep me
I would go at fish culture. It had been
begun in England, and I began to read
on it. As soon as I had 51.200 a year
more income than my necessities, I went
at this fish business, and I took a brook,
near Rochester, where I had five miles to
myself, invented my hatching boxes and
started in. The only money I have
made in this business was by the sale of
the brook. I made SII,OOO on it.”
Leadville Gambling Honses.
A correspondent, writing from the
great Colorado mining town, says:
Although there are State laws and city
ordinances forbidding gambling, no
effort is made to enforce either. The
doors of these places stand wide open
day and night, and everything is done
to attract the notice of passers-by, just
as if the business were a legitimate one,
protected by law. There is no pretence
of elegance in any of the gambling
houses which I visited in Leadville, as
there is in those of Eastern watering
places or large cities. The inside of
most of them is destitute of paint or
plaster. The tables are plain pine ones
and are surrounded by wooden chairs.
The floors are covered with tobacco
juice and mud, and the patrons are
mostly roughly clad miners, who play a
small or a large game as money is plenty
or scarce with them. In a prominent
place in each saloon there is a bar which
is always well patronized; in the larger
places there are two bars. One-half or
or one-third of each gambling-house is
i separated from the remainder by a low
railing and is set apart for keno.
| Around the sides of the remainder are
tables upon which are played faro, high
! hall poker, rouge et noir, hazard, etc.
1 In the rear of each place a private room
is partitioned off for the accommodation
: of persons who wish to “ fight the tiger”
in private. In the public room the play
is generally for comparatively small
sums; chips are sold for from ten cents
! to one dollar each, and the bets rarely
exceed five dollars. In the daytime :Me
; gambling saloons at Leadville'are almost
deserted, out at night and on Sundays
• they <-or>stant’>y thronged.
TIMELY TOPICS.
New England has over 230 farmers’
clubs, with 72,000 active members and
library books to the number of 21,000,
and in the United States there are nearly
2,000 agricultural societies, 58,000
volumes in their libraries, and with ac
cess to 360 different agricultural publi
cations, all exerting a direct influence on
the intelligence and future prospects ol
the tillers of the soil.
The California ranchman or farmer is
to a certain extent demoralized by the
climate, which allows him to perform
outdoor work the year round. Unlike
the Eastern farmer, therefore, he is in
clined to let things go by the board.
There is a lack ot thoroughness in build
ing, in planting and in the care for ani
mals. There is little concern for ap
pea ranees; the soil of many years re
mains undisturbed upon the wagon
wheels; no flower garden is well cared
for; they mend the harnesses with bits
of rope, and they trust little or nothing
to the vanity of paint.
Twenty nine years ago two boys,about
a dozen years of age, were playing
“tag” in Lewiston, Me. They were
merry and active lads, and weTe frolick
ing with schoolboy enthusiasm and
carelessness. One lad caught the other,
struck his heels and playfully tipped
him over. His whole weight came down
upon his falling playmate, whose spine
was seriously injured in consequence.
He was conveyed home, and it was found
that he was a physical wreck. For two
years he was able to walk arournl
a very little, and then, as tffe results of
his injuries gradually grew more serious,
lie was obliged to be carried from one
place to another, entirely losing the use
oi his lower limbs. At length liis whole
body became rigid, and he was power
less. For twenty-three years Mathew
Rankins has sat fixed in his chair as in a
vise night and day.
The New York Herald thus describes
a horse-power: “This question is fre
quently asked: What is understood by
a horse-power, and why came tli it way
of reckoning to be adopted and brought
into general use? Before the power of
steam was generally known and applied
to mechanical purposes, horses were
used to raise coal and other heavy
ies. Mr. Moots, in his experiments,
carefully compared the relative power
of the different breeds of horses, and
found its average equal to raising 33,000
pounds one foot per minute, or, what is
equivalent, to raise 330 pounds 100 feet,
or 100 pounds 330 feet during that spac
of time when attached to a lever or
sweep of given length. This afterward
became the standard of measuring power
or force, applied to mechanical purposes,
and which is still retained in common
use.”
Major J. M. Walsh, who has become
famous in the Indian country as the offi
cer of the Canadian Mounted Police, in
charge of the camp of Sitting Bull and
the IJncapapa Sioux, has contributed
several columns of opinion and narrative
to a Chicago paper He thinks Sitting
Bull is well disposed toward the United
States, but adds this criticism of the In
dian policy: “ Y'ou can’t make two gov
ernments—one for the Indian and one
for the white man. You don’t need
them. Treat the Indian like a white
man from the start. Show him that you
recognize the fact that he has rights, and
point out to him what those rights are.
Teach him that the white man’s rights
and his are identical. Then show him
that he will be protected in his rights,
and that lie will be punished if he in
fringes on the rights of others, and the
business is settled.” And it is by en
forcing this policy, he says, that Canada
has been enabled tolive at peace with the
savages for a generation.
The Fete of St. Fiacre.
Not the least interesting of the many
curious customs of the world is the fete
celebrated annually in France, in honor
of St. Fiacre. The saint is the especial
patron of flower dealers and gardeners,
and the festival, which occurs in Sep
tember. is celebrated throughout France,
with great lionor and beauty; no orna
ments, however, being allowed, unless
composed of flowers and evergreens.
On the day of St. Fiacre Paris is a
wilderness of flowers, every doorpost,
pillar and portico being twined with
gay wreaths. The tables are loaded with
bouquets, and wreaths are about all the
wine cups, and pendant from the ceiling
of every public room. A castle, built
entirely of the most fragrant flowers,
enshrines the smali, mean-looking
statue which is his saintship, St. Fiacre.
All the gardeners contribute to this grand
castle, which is a wonderful piece of
architecture. There are pillars, pyra
mids, domes, temples and arcades, all of
the most magnificent description. All
the floral beauties of the flower dealers
and gardeners are brought out to pay
homage to the patron saint.
The saint does not always appear the
same. Spmetimesthe insignificant statue
is arrayed in rich apparel, and wears a
superb crown of flowers; sometimes he
is dressed as an old man, sometimes as
a tonsored monk, while again lie is not
adorned in any way. His name always
appears in letters of brilliant flowers be
neath the riche where he is enshrined
and, also, the words, “ Priez pour turns!'
It is the usual custom, on the first day
of the fete, to bear the flower castle and
its ugly little image to the church, at the
head of agrand procession. There grand
mass is celebrated, and the cure blesses
the image in his most solemn manner.
Upon the altar are laid offerings of beau
tiful flowers and rare fruits, and the
church walls are festooned with flowers,
while bunches of* ripe and luscious
grapes are twined about the altar rail
ing. When mass is over, the castle and
saint are borne from door to door, and
every one is asked to contribute money.
Tne sum thus obtained pays the ex
penses of a grand ball, to which all the
florists and gardeners have free admit
tance, and this winds up the celebration
of the saint’s birthday.— Portland Tran
script.
The New York Tenement Honses.
The corps of visiting physicians ap
pointed by the Board of Health to in
spect the tenement houses in this city
have made a report on the results of their
week’s work. They have evidently lost
no time, and it is presumable that their
duties have been intelligently and faith
fully performed. In upward of five
thousand tenements, containing 25,634
families, there were found 766 cases of
sickness, which were prescribed for, and
besides this aid, 233 tickets were dis
tributed for free trips in the floating
hospital of St. John's Guild. The
course of disease was therefore stayed by
so much as these diligent medical men
were able to accomplish within the
space of a week. But the statistics show
something else—namely, the manner in
which a very large proportion of the
peo >le ol this city are packed into the
unwholesome hives called tenement
houses. The figures quoted above give
a total of 25,634 families to 5,020 houses;
that is to say, rating the family at the
census average of five persons, there are
more than 128,000 men, women and
children living in these five thousand
houses—or an average of twenty-five to
each. Even this calculation does not
represent the full measure of the mis
chief: for in very many of the tenements
the number of inhabitants rises to fifty
or seventy-five for each, and it is these
plac es which are the nests of disease. It
is not surprising to hear that nearly
eight hundred cases of sickness were dis
covered in a week. But for the proper
sanitary precautions taken by the Health
Board, the week's death-roll would have
been largely augmented. New York
'• Commercial Advertiser .
In a Prison Hospital.
There are now in Sing Sing prison be
tween 1.600 and 1,700 prisoners. Less
than twenty of them are lying in cots
in the prison hospital—one to a hundred,
say. Last vear seven convicts died. The
I youngest was nineteen years old; the
} oldest was forty-three. The average age
of the prisoners last year was between
twenty and twenty-five years. The death
rate was less than one-half of one per cent.
Nearly all of the deaths occur from the
same cause—a disease which is called
consumption, for short. The prisoner
has lived a life of excesses; often he has
contracted a blood disease that has
passed into a third stage, and is under
mining his constitution. He takes cold
easily, and the cold in his system pro
duces a waste that his impaired vitality
cannot endure. He goes into the hos
pital and dies when the leaves come out.
or lingers till the leaves fall. So said
Warden Davis the other day while he
and the writer were climbing the ridge
to the east of the prison, where the dead
convicts are buried. “ The** were har
vested last spring,” said he, pointing to a
row of five or six graves over which the
turf had not grown. “We shall not be
likely to lose any more —by natural death
—till the leaves fall: then there will be
some more. There is one man whom we
may not keep long; but, unless there is
some casualty, or some man is shot in a
desperate attempt to escape, there will
be not more than one new g'ave before
the leaves fall.” Since Walden Davis
took charge of the prison, nearly two
years ago, there has been but one death
from acute disease. The man caught
cold, his lungs assumed the condition of
the brain in apoplexy, and he was dead
within a few hours.
All of the sick convicts lie in the same
room in the hospital—a large hall with
cots for perhaps sixty men. The floor is
clean, the walks white, the room lighted
with oil lamps. Occasionally, wiienii"
convict is sick with a disease that makes
him offensive to the others, he is removed
to a small room kept for the purpose
elsewhere. The sick are attended chiefly
by convicts, most of whom, detailed for
that purpose, are themselves on the sick
list. They sit by the side of the sick, at
tend to their wants, give them medieflne
according to the doctor’s instructions,
and call the doctor when it seems to be
necessary. The sick generally appear pa
tient, and they are well taken care of.
Sometimes in the night a nervous, sleep
less patient, weary of the scene around
him, and perhaps thinking of the tender
care he had received from his mother or
a sister at home, will draw a deep sigh
and gasp. “Oh. this is a horrible place
to be sick in!” But they all have good
attention, and even the most nervous
cannot say that the condition of the sick
there is any moieliorriblethan it is made
by the rtocessities ot their situation.
There is no officer of the prison that
does not tiptoe through the room when
he gore among the sick, lest he should
givs them pain. The duties of the prison
physician are strangely different from
those of physicians outside. He must
see that he is not imposed upon by men
who want to shirk work or to be trans
ferred to work of a different nature.
They feign sickness, and he must deter
mine whether they are really sick. The
prisoners feign sickness more frequently
in the hope of being transferred to a dif
ferent line of work than to escape work.
Nearly ail of them prefer to work, and
nearly all would like to be frequently
changed from one kind ot work to some
thing else. Frequently the physician
finds it necessary to take the prisoners at
their word and apply remedies tiiat are
painful, but not injurious. Not long ago
a prisoner was transferred to an easy job
in consequence of an ailment common to
those who lift heavy packages. In three
days the same disease became epidemic
among the convicts. One of the first to
complain was subjected to heroic treat
ment, and the next day there was not a
case of that aUment in the prison. The
physician usually has but little difficulty
in distinguishing between those that are
really ill and those whose sickness is
feigned.
When a convict dies word is sent to
the person mentioned in the prison re
cords, to the address there given, if such
name and address were given by the pri
soner at the time of his admission, and
on receipt of a request to forward the
body, it is sent on at the State’s expense,
clothed and coffined. If no such name
and address are found in the records the
prisoner is buried in the prison burying
ground. The body is taken to the large
upper room before mentioned, and orders
are given for the clothes and coffin. The
latter is made in the prison “jobbing
shop,” where the work is done by con
victs detailed lor jobbing purposes— i. e. t
not hired out to contractors. At the
same time, a small white slab of wood is
gotten out, and on it are painted the
name under which the convict was sen
tenced, his age and the date of his death.
After the body is prepared for burial it
is taken to the hospital reception-room,
where a brief service is held by the chap
lain. There are present the hospital of
ficers and such other prison officers as
choose to come in, the convicts who are
acting as attendants in the hospital, and
a detail of ten or twelve convicts from
the prison yard. Someone of the prison
officers is chosen by the warden to take
charge of the funeral. The chaplain
makes remarks on the disposition shown
by the dead during his term in the pri
son, and his conduct in the hospital, if
there is anything in them that he thinks
would benefit the assembled convicts.
Sometimes he refers to the crime that
brought the man to prison. A prayer is
made, and the coffin is borne to the pri
son burying ground. There the service
is very brief. —Hew York Sun.
Unshod Horses.
It has been before stated that an ex
perienced farrier in England was advo
cating the abolishment of horseshoeing,
and now a writer in the London Times
has been trying the experiment, and thus
reports: When my pony’s shoes were
worn out I had them removed, and gave
him a month’s rest at grass, with an oc
casional drive of a mile or two on the
high road while his hoofs were harden
ing. The result at first seemed doubtful.
The hoof was a thin shell, and kept
chipping away until it had worked down
beyond the holes of the nails by which
the shoes had been fastened. After this
the hoof grew thick and hard, quitd un
like what it had been before. I now put
the pony to full work, and he stands it
well, fle is more sure-footed; his tread
is almost noiseless; his hoofs are in no
danger from tne rough hand of the
farrier; and the tfiange altogether has
been a clear gain, without anything to
set against it. My pony, I may add, was
between four and five years old—rising
four, I fancy, is the correct phrase. He
had been regularly shod up to the pres
ent year.
The Bright Side.
Look on the bright side—it is the right
side. The times may be hard, but it will
make them no easier to wear a gloomy
and sad countenance. It is the sunshine
and not the cloud that gives beauty to
the flower. There is always before or
around us that which should cheer and
fill the heart with warmth and gladness.
The sky is blue ten times where it is
black once. You have troubles, it may
be. So have others. None are free from
them—and perhaps it is as well that none
should be. They give sinew and tone tc
life—fortitude and courage to man. That
would be a dull sea, and the sailor woulu
never acquire skill, were there nothing
! to disturb its surface. It is the duty of
: every one to extract all the happiness
and enjoyment he can from within and
without him, and, above all, he should
look on the bright side. What though
things do look a little dark? The lan<
will have a turning, and the night will
end in broad day In the long run the
! great balance lights itself. What appears
ill becomes well.—that which appeals
! wrong, right,
AX ESCAPE FROM AUSTRALIA.
The Trot Story of tile Adventure# of
John Boyle O'Ueilly.
In the Boston Pilot, John Boyle
O'Reilly, its editor, gives the first cor
rect story of his escape from the penal
colony of West Australia, to which he
was consigned as a Fenian some ten years
ago. The story is as follows:
For several months previous to the
date of my escape, 1 had been resolved on
and in preparation for an attempt. No
one knew my mind. I had before seen
so many fail that I concluded it was
best to make the effort alone. Fortu
nately, I was dissuaded from this pur
pose. One day I was visited at the camp
of the convict road party named above
by Rev. Patrick McCabe, a Catholic
priest, whose “ parish ” extended over
hundreds of miles of bush, and whose
only parishioners were convicts and
ticket-of-leave men. One day he rode
to my hut, and we walked together into
the bush. I had then made all my plans
for escape, and I freely told him my in
tention. “It is an excellent way to com
mit suicide,” he said; and he would not
speak of it any more. As he was leav
ing me, however, he leaned from his
saddle and said, “ Don’t think of that
again. Let me think out a plan for you.
You’ll hear from me before long.” 1
was not compelled to work with the
criminal gang on the roads, but had
charge of their stores and carried the
warden’s weekly report to the Bun bury
depot. On my way with this report one
day I came to a plain known as the
“ Race-Course.” As I crossed it I heard
a “coo-ee,” or bush cry. and saw a man
coming toward me. He was a big,
handsome fellow, with an axe on his
shoulder. He came to me with a friend
ly smile. “My name is Maguire,” lie
said; “ I’m a friend of Father Mac’s, and
he’s betn speaking about you.” I said
as little as possible, not knowing the
man. Seeing my hesitation he drew out
a card from his wallet, on which Father
McCabe had written a few words to me.
Then I trusted him. He told me he was
clearing the race-course, and he would
beat work there a month. The Ameri
can whalers, he said, would touch at
Bunbury for water in February (it was
then December), and he was going to
make all arrangements with one of the
captains for my escape.
Early in February, on my return from
the weekly trip with the report, I found
Maguire at the race-course waiting for
me. “Are you ready?” he said. One
of the whalers, the bark Vigilant, ot
New Bedford, was to sail in four days,
and Captain Baker had agreed to take
me on board, if he saw me at sea outside
Australian waters; and he had even
promised to cruise two or three days and
watch for my coming out.
Maguire had everything arranged. On
the night of the 18th I was to get
out of my hut at eight o’clock and strike
into the bush on a line of his selection,
where the native trackers would be at
fault. I had previously secured a pair
of freemen’s shoes, as the trackers could
easftv discern the mark of a convict’s
boot. Having left the camp, I was to
hold x a straight road through the bush
till I came to an old convict station on
the Vasse road, where I was to lie till I
heard someone on the road whistle the
first bars of “Patrick’s Day.” This was
repeated again and again till we were
sure we both, had every point agreed.
Then we separated.
At seven o’clock that evening the
warden of the convict party visited the
criminals’ hut and found that all were
present. He saw me sitting in my hut
as he passed on his return. One of the
convicts soon after came into my hut
to borrow tobacco and stayed a long
time, making me very nervous. He went
away before eight, however, and, as soon
as he was gone, I changed my boots, put
out the light and struck into the bu-li.
The forest was dark, but the stars were
clear. I had not gone two hundred
yards when I saw a man close to me,
evidently following pie. I waited till he
came up- It was a mahogany sawyer,
named Kelly, whose pit was close to my
hut. He;was a good fellow—though he
had been transported for life. “Are you
off ?” he said, in a whisper. “ I knew
you meant it. I saw you talking to Ma
guire a month ago. and I knew it all.” I
was dumb with astonishment and
alarm. If this man had wished he could
have put the police on the alert, or he
could do it next day. He held out his
hand and there was a quiver in his
husky voice. “ God speed you,” he said,
giving me a grip like a vise; “ I’ll put
them on the wrong scent to-morrow, if
I can.” 1 shook the manly hand in si
lence, and kept on my way.
About eleven o’clock I came to the old
convict station, and lay down behind a
great gum tree at the roadside. In half
an hour or so two men rode us, but
passed on. They were farmers, proba
bly, but may be a patrol of mounted
police. Shortlv after I heard horses
coming at a sharp trot. They halted
near me. and I heard “Patrick’s Day”
whistled clear and low. In an instant
I was with them—-Maguire and
another friend, M . They led a spare
horse. I mounted at once, and without
a word we struck into the bush at a
gallop. For hours we rode on in silence.
At last Maguire, who led, pulled up,
dismounted and whistled. Another
whistle was heard, and in a few minutes
we were joined by three men, two of
them cousins of Maguire. The third
took the horses and went off after shak
ing hands with me. We then formed in
Indian fLe, to prevent the di-covery of
the number, each one covering the
other’s tracks, and walked on for about
another mile, till we came to a dry
swamp near the sea.
Here M remained with me, while
the others went forward. M told
me that we were close to Bunbury, and
that the others were gone for the boat.
After half an hour’s anxious waiting we
saw a light, as if a match were struck,
at half a mile distant. This was repeated
three times, and then we went forward.
We found Maguire waiting for us on a
little bridge acrosi the road. They had
the boat ready, and led the way. We
had- to walk through mud up to the
knees to reach the water.. In half a
minute Maguire atid I were in the boat.
M remained on the shore. “ Come
on,” whispered Maguire. “ No,” an
swered poor M , with a trembling
voice, “ I promised my wife not to go in
the boat.” “All right,” sneered one of
the Maguires, “ go home to your wife.”
As we pulled silently out to sea, we
could discern M standing on the
beach. It was not cowardice. He was
a brave man, as he proved afterward,
and I hope the time may come when I
shall be free to mention his name.
We were four men in the boat, and
we pulled cautiously till we had got out
of hearing. Then we bent to the oars
with full strength. There were but few
words said. When the sun rose we were
well out, and could just see the tops of
the sand hills. We were crossing Geo
graphe bay, on a straight line of about
forty miles in length. We were to lie in
wait for the Vigilant, on the farther
shore, and cut her off as she passed the
northern head of the bay. We pulled
strongly till the forenoon was closing.
We had neither water nor food; I don t
know whether the arrangements for a
supply had failed, or had been. wholly
forgotten. But I had eaten nothing from
noon of the previous day, and I began to
suffer dreadfully from thirs*. It was al
most noon when we ran the boat through
the surf and beached her. _ In doing so
our clothes were drenched with sea water,
and I felt instant relief from thirst. I
tried this afterward with good effect, ex
cept that it made the skin sore.
We got to the beach at about twelve
o’clock, and one of the men with a strong
glass, which Maguire had brought, was
sent to a hill to look out for the sailing
of the Vigilant. At about one o’clock
he came down at a run and reported the
vessel, under full sail, steering north
We ran the boat through the surf arfd
pulled out with light hearts. All efforts
to attract the attention of the Vigilant
VOL. V. NO. 47.
failed, and at last the party put back to
land, where O’Reilly passed the night in
constant anxiety.
Next morning, having made the boat
water-tight with paper bark, I went to
sea in this craft, towing over the stern
sufficient food to last me for some days.
She was lfrht and easily pulled. Before
night I had passed the headland and was
on the Indian Ocean. I knew there was
a current going northward. Next morn
ing I gave up pulling and sat down to
watch and
sun flamed above, and the reflection from
the water was scorching. _The, meat
towing in the sea was becoming putrid,
and during the night some of the ’pos
sums and kangaroo rats had been taken
by sharks. That day. toward noon, I
saw a sail; it was the Vigilant; there
was no other vessel there. She drew
near to me—so near that I heard voices
on deck. I saw the men aloft on the
lookout: but they did not see me, or at
least Captain Baker says so. She sailed
away again, and was out of sight before
night. (Heretofore I have simply said
that I went out to sea. saw the Gazelle
in this way, and was picked up.)
The dew at night and the cool air
refreshed me, and I resolved to pull back
to shore and wait for Maguire’s return.
I pulled all night, off and on, ard in the
morning saw the sand hills at the head
land of Geographe bay. By noon I was
ashore, and then began a most weary
walk back to Johnson’s, where I arrived
that night.
After that I left the sand valley no
more. I wanted to sleep all the time,
and there was no one to disturb me. In
five days more I was thoroughly wak
ened, however, by the cheery voice of my
friend Maguire,and with him came M—.
who said he was resolved to see me
through this time. Maguire brought me
a brief letter from Father McCabe, ask
ing me to remember him. The whalers
were to sail next day, and Captain Gif
ford of the Gazelle, of New Bedford, had
agreed to take me off. To make it sure,
Father McCabe had paid him £lO Jo
take me as far as Java.
But there was one drawback. A
criminal convict, one of the worst char
acters in the colony, a ticket-of-leave
man, named Martin Bowman, of Beau
mont, had discovered the means of my
escape, and had gone to Maguire and
threatened to put the police on the track
unless he was taken off too. Maguire
could not dissent, so here was the
scoundrel coolly looking at us and say
ing nothing.
That night we slept little, someone
always keeping an eye on Bowman." We
were up at daybreak, and soon after we
were afloat. Old Johnson and his boy
stood on the beach and saw us push off.
We pulled straight out toward the head
land, as Captain Gifford had instructed.
By noon we saw the two whalesliips
coming along with a fine breeze. To
ward evening we heard a hail, and some
one on board shouted my name, and
cried out, “ Come on board !” We were
all overjoyed. Wepulied alongside, and
I was helped out. of the boat by the
strong arms of Henry Hathaway, the
third mate. Captain Gifford made me
welcome and gave me a place in his
cabin. Martin Bowman, the escaped
criminal, was sent, forward among the
crew.
Some months afterward, when the
Gazelle touched at Roderique, and Eng
lish island in the Indian Ocean, the gov
ernor came aboard searching for *an
escaped convict from Australia—a
black-haired man.’ I was standing
with Mr. Hussey, the mate, when tin*
governor of the island made the demand.
Mr. Hussey said that no such person
was on board. The governor answered
that he had information that a man had
escaped on the Gazelle. Mr. Hussey
feared they might seize the ship, so he
said that a man of that description who
had come on board off the coast of Au
stralia might be the person. He called
Bowman, whom every on board detest
ed, and he was put in irons and taken
on shore. We knew that he would tell
the whole story (the wonder is that he
did not do it then; but he wished to
make terms for his own release). That
night the officers of the Gazelle threw
the grindstone, with my hat, overboard,
while I laj in the captain’s cabin. A
cry of “ Man overboard!” was raised, a
boat lowered and the hat picked up.
There were on board some English ex
convicts, who had shipped in Australia,
and these only waited tejr a chance to
get me retaken. But one of them, utter
ly deceived by the officers’ strategy, de
clared that he saw me sink when the
hat was picked up. When the governor
of the island came on board the next day
to demand his prisoner the flag was at
half-mast, and the officers sorrowfully
told him that the man he probably
wanted had jumped overboard in the
night and was drowned. His policemen
went among the crew and learned the
same news, being particularly impressed
by the Englishman's story. Two days
later the Gazelle sailed from Roderique,
and I came on deck, much to tiie amaze
ment of the crew. The narrative closes
with the story of the transfer to the
Sapphire, of Boston, on which the nar
rator reached Liverpool, and that to the
Bombay, on which the passage was
made to Philadelphia, as previously
tated.
The Dead Presidents.
A review of the lives of the different
Presidents of the United States is pro
ductive of some very interesting results.
For instance, three of them died on the
Fourth of July. John Adams and Jef
ferson both died on the country’s birth
day, July 4, 1826. and Monroe died on
the 4th of July, 1831 Madison died on
the 28th of June, 1836, and his friends
were confident that he, too, would live
until July 4th. If he had, then the sec
ond, third, fourth and fifth Presidents
would have <lied|upon Independence Day.
Taylor and Johnson both died in July.
Every fourth President until Mr. Hayes
was an old bachelor. Van Buren did
not draw any of his salary until his term
expired, when he drew it out in gold,
“ all in a lump.” Tyler died poor, and
was one of the Confederate commission
ers at Montgomery. John Adams lived
he longest; he was ninety-one years old
when he died. Madison was eighty
five; Jefferson, eighty-three; John
Adams, eighty-one; Van Buren,
eighty: Jackson, seventy eight; Bu
chanan, seventy-seven; Fillmore, sev
entv-four; Monroe, seventy-two; Tvler.
seventy-two; Harrison, sixty-eight,
Washington,sixty-seven : Johnson,sixty
seven: Taylor,sixty; Lincoln, fifty-six:
Polk,fifty-four; Pierce,forty-five. General
Grant is the only living :x-President. Ty
ler and Van Buren both died in 1862, Lin
coln in 1865. Buchanan in 1868, Pierce
in 1869, Fillmore in 1874 and Johnson in
1875.
The Three R’s.
Somebody mourns because he has
nothing but the three R’s to teach.
Poor soul! From the very depths of our
feelings we pity you. Nothing to teach!
The world is before you. Sun, moon
and atoms, stars and comets, a whole
universe full, and nothing but the three
R’s left you. But after all we suspect
you have not taught those branches very
much. Can you read? We should like
to examine you. How we would try
you all the way from Mother Goose to
Milton. Can you write? We would
give you a pen, and ten minutes to write
a thought worth remembering one
second. Then arithmetic! \Vhy, my
dear, ignorant s >ul! do you not yet know
that arithmetic is the science of sciences,
that evpn the highest calculus is only an
j expanded arithmetic? Go borne! Leave
; your work to others who will honor the
i grandest of all studies, resiling, writing
i and arithmetic. There 'ire those who
understand that to know these well is to
jbe well learned. God bless the teacher
who know- the three R's! God bless
the child who learns them ! —Rlucalional
Monthly. • .
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Little Barbara.
rVetty Barbara, ripe and red,
With sweet small mouth like the lutes abed.
And lull oi nectar and honey-dew;
So pretty a thing, I dare not sweat
To the art of the ribbon that ties her hair
Or the buckle that binds her shoe;
So like her each trinket she has to wear,
It seems just as if it grew,
Like a iose in its petals and pollen dust,
That wears its beauty because it must,
And something like Barlmra, 100.
As si e dips her small tin bucket in
The little louutisiu ot woven glass,
Like webs that the spiders weave and spin
To hang on tiie shining blades ot grass,
A lace as bright and happy as bers,
In the nets of the silken gossamers,
Looks out ot the water’s smooth eclipse,
As it it was happy to hold withiu it
'The sott verliena red of her lips,
And kiss and caress her just for a minute,
In the arms ot the dimples, smooth and still
Ere it goes and soberly turns the mill.
For lite to her in the honey-dew
Is nothing yet but the wayside
Between the upper and under blue,
That makes a fiction ot everything,
As perfectly like as it it grew;
And she is too happy to see within it
The shape ot her small sweet sell a minute,
From the bow in the hair to the tie of her
. shoe,
To know that the marvelous shadows mean
The simple inner beauty that shows
But now in the color ol a rose,
And now like the water's smooth eclipse,
In hearts that hold her picture still,
As we go and soberly t urn the mill.
Harper’s Magazi'.’t,
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
The board of education—the black
obard
What women are doing—Men.— Et.rl
Marble.
At this time of year a dislt ofiee-eream
in the hand is worth two in the freezer.
One-tliird of till the coffee soid in the
United States >s said to be adulterated-
The man wlio goes to a bank and has
a cheek cashed is a money drawer. —
Keokuk Constitution.
The Countess de Monti jo, mother
the ex-Empress Eugenie, is eighty-two
and was much afflicted at her grandson’s
death.
It is estimated that from §10,000,000 to
§ 1*2,000,000 of Eastern capital has been
invested in Western mines in the last six
months.
Weston, speaking at a meeting in
London, stated that during the last
twelve years he had walked and ‘'wob
bled ” on foot 53,000 miles.
Sir Henry Bessemer conveyed a gdod
idea of a billion when he stated that a
billion sheets of the London Times,
packed closely one on the other, would
rear.h an altitude 0f47.000 miles.
Ex-Governor Tilden’s summer home
at Yonkers, N. Y„ is known as “Grev
stone.” The grounds cover thirty-three
acres, including lawn, meadow and
forest. The mansion and grounds,
which are leased by Air. Tilden, cost
$400,000.
A woman working for a farmer ay t
Detroit was fatally poisoned recentl hw
washing a Dair of overalls which he by
worn while putting Paris green onbnr
potatoes. The woman had a cut or iod
on her hands, into which the poison haa
penetrated.
Of the 40,000 postmasters in the United
States only 2,000 are appointed by the
President, and are paid by salary: the
38,000 others are designated ly the Post
master-General and are paid in propor
tion to the amount of business done at
their offices.
More titan 5.000,00® cans of corn are
ow packed in Maine annual iy, and sold
in every part of the world, yielding a
business to that State of about $1,250.-
000, and giving profitable employment
to from 8,000 to 10,000 people during the
packing season. •
Darwin is as straight as a dart and as
robust as an oak. lie looks hale and
lieartv enough to live 100 years and
more.* It is said lie now confines bis
ambition to the completion off wo works
lie litis begun. One is tiie life of his
grandfather, who was an illustrious doc
tor, and the other is a work on vegetable
life.
Field bakeries form part of the train
of nearly every European army. De
spite these arrangements, it bits in recent
years been frequently found impossible
to supply the large armies with fresh
bread front day to day, and it seems
likely that the attempt to do so will be
abandoned, and biscuit issued instead of
bread.
A novelty in social amusement has
been introduced in Jackson county,
Oregon. The Titling*, of Ashland, re
ports that a number of young ladies and
gentlemen from Jacksonville and other
places met at the grove at Willow
Springs on horseback, and, to the music
of the violin, went through a number of
quadrilles and round dance- with their
horses.
General E. W. Hincks, commandant
of the National Home, at Milwaukee, is
said to be dying front a wound received
while gallantly leading his regiment at
the battle of Antietam on September 17.
1862. He was shot through the stomach
by a Minie ball, and was one of four who
survived wounds of that kind inflicted
during the war.
A heavy rain-storm suddenly swelled
a Dakota mountain stream to a torrent,
and David Morton, arriving at its bank
with his wife in a wagon, found that lie
could not cross. Desiring to get rid of
Mrs. Morton, lie threw her into the
stream and drove the horse in after her.
letting both drown. A coroner's jury
was about to decide that the woman had
been accidentally killed, when a detect
ive arrived with the news that there
were marks of a stnurgle lieside the
stream. This overwhelmed Morton,
and he confessed the murder.
Peculiar People.
Odd folks here and there arede*- •i , "d
in the newspapers. Roxbury. la—.,
has an eccentric tramp who lives in a
cave during the winter and spenos the
summer in making begging ex<*urs ons
to the neighborin' towns, He. never
says a word, and his dress consists en
tirely of old bootlegs fastened together
with leather strings. A small wagon,
drawn by two goats, and containing a
; helpless, shrivled man. attracted. atten
tion in Hagerstown, Md. He said that
lie bad traveled in that manner for many
years, and called himself “ the American
Tourist.” He is entirely helpless. Ilia
wife and four children accompany him
and attend to his wants, getting their
living by the sale of a temperance song
and other small articles. Jefferson
Stevens, who lives near Sulphur Springs,
Ky., concludes that he is gifted with
peculiar powers, of which lie lately gave
a street exhibition. He held a forked
dogwood switih.like those used by
wizards, in hit mouth, and told the
crowd to ask any questions they pleased.
A pair of tramps turned up at Des
Moines. lowa—Peter Carlisle and wife
—who were on their way to Leadviile
from the Pennsylvania coal regions.
They had pushed a handcart all the
way. containing their baby girl and a
few household utensils. Carson Cnir,
of Moodie. Cal.’, will on no account walk
a step, but ahvaysruiis.no matn-r if lie:
distance is only a few feet: while Mrs
Maiti, of Chicago, will iieithf r walk i...r
run, although' plivsiyni y able to dp
either, because slo- thinks Iwr legs will
drop off If *is "tit's them.