Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME XI. NUMBER 39.
SIX LITTLE MAIDENS.
I'll teh you a story, I’ll sing you a song,—
It’s not very short and it’s not very long,—
Of six little maidens : in white they were
dressed,
And each was the sweetest and each was the
best.
Invited for fonr—well, now, let me see :
Waiting was dull, so they got there at three.
There were little Miss Katie and Nellie and Suo,
And little Miss Bessie and Polly and Prue.
Il might have been June, if it hadn’t been
May,
The first of the month, and a beautiful day;
They kissed when they met, as the ladies ail
do—
Kate, Susie, and Nell; Bess, Polly, and Prue.
They danced and they skipped and they sang
and they played,
And they formed pretty groups in the sun and
the shade;
And I said, when they asked me of which I
was fond,—
“Brunettes are the dearest, and so are the
blonde.”
And that night as I bid them adieu at the
Rate.—
Besx, Polly, and Prue, Sue, Nellie, and Kale,—
How I wished that “good-bye !*’ could havo
been “how-dV-do!”
And I said: “Come at three 1” so as to get them
at two!
cu Ax«. Jm/niiif
That Terrible Scar.
Midnight had tolled its solemn chime,
yet still the weary watcher sat besiue
the hearthstone plying her busy needle.
Her eyes were dim and sunken, her
cheeks thin and pale, her lips pinched
and purple, and her slender lingers so
shrivelled with the icy chill thaf was
fast palsying wedding her that the plain gold
ring on her finger and tho
thimble that she held were every now
and then dropping into her lap. Her
delicate form w-as shivering even under
the heavy shawl that she had thrown
about her shoulders, and she looked often
with a wistful glance at tho little bas¬
ket of fuel that stood beside the fire¬
place.
Another hour passed and the clock
struck one.
“He must soon be here now,” whis¬
pered she in a half-frightened tone.
“I will lay aside my work and make
things as cheerful as I cnn.”
So she brushed the ashes from tho
hearth, drew tlie coals together, threw
on them ahandful the of the carefully-saved Same
fuel and fanned faint till it
flashed high in the chimney Then she
lookotl al’out tlio room to flPA if n.nglit
could be mended; but the few articles it
held were all in their wonted places,
and everything as neat as the hands of
love could make it. An arm-chair was
drawn from a corner close to tlie crnck-
1 ing fire, the dressing gown that hung
rqxm it spread out anew and a pair ol
slippers were upon the fender. The
lamp was trimmed afresh, tho table
Justed, and beside it was placed a knife
almost as bright as though the blade had
been silver instead of steel.
“I have done the best I can,” said tbe
pale watcher, ns again she sank into her
chair. “Oh, if I were only sure of one
kind word,” she continued. “Hark!”
She started up and listened. “It is he—
anil how he bangs (he gate? I shall
have a fearful time with him.”
She hastened to the front door and
gently opened it in, and reeling
A man staggered reached finally this
way and that, the room
bis gentle wife had made so bright and
cheerful. But what was her reward ? A
volley of oaths so foul that it seemed as
If an army of fiends had spoken with
one voice. He cursed the niggardly fire,
though to make that she and her chil¬
dren had been half frozen all day; ho
swore at the patched dressing-gown,
though out of her own thin wardrobe
she had planned it; he raved at the bread
and meat, though her own lean fingers
had earned them both. And when, angel
like and woman-like, too, she gave him
a smile for every frown, an endearing
epithet for every oath, and would have
wound her arms about him to win him
ha k to reason and himself, he raised
h'l heavy hand and dealt her a power
fil blow; aye, he struck her till every
rerve quivered with anguish, beauteous anil she
a is wife and the mother of his
children 1 And now, when she lay
prostrate before him, he raised himself
to kick her from thence. A slight young
hand pushed off the booted foot even as
it was falling voice” on the trembling woman,
and a agonized in its tones, ex¬
claimed:
“Forbear, my father, f :r though youv
wife, she is yet my mother, and I will
save her from your rage !”
The eyes of the drunkard quailed a
moment before the upturned holy gaze tbi ol
his first-born, so mournfully tearful was face
look that beamed from his :
then a fiendish glare burned in his own,
and exclaiming : I level house¬
“You, too!—must my
hold ere I can find peace ?” he seized th
glisteninar knife and struck his child.
* V * % * * *
“Will he live?” moaned the pom
mother to the surgeon, when he hail
bandaged the boy’s head. “He is ven
pale and weak.”
“It is a ghastly and dangerous wound,’
said the surgeon ; “only the eight of a:
inch deeper and it would havo been
fatal— yet with care he might survive. in
“Mother,”—there was a pathos the
tone that drew her eyes earnestly to the
speaker, a stripling of about 17 years—
“mother, I am going away.” ?” sh>
‘ ‘Away!—anil where, Ernest
Inquired. say,” he replied “God
“I cannot ;
must direct my steps—but go from hen
I must. The enrse of the drunkard s
son is on me. None will regard me—
c«ne even give me work, And more.
mother, if I stay here I must forget my
Bible, for how can I honor my. fathei
when he so dishonors himself ?”
Very long did the boy talk and pleaii
ere he won the tearful consent; but she
gave it at length, and, with a little knap
eack on his back, his mother s Bible in
pocket and kc-r slender purse in the
other, Ernest went forth in the grea'
world to seek, not so much fortune or
feme, as that peace and joy which a
MT>
-v; T y —
s- L.
% h
L *
- i
drunken father would not give him in
liis home.
Years passed awnv, and there came nr
tidings from Ernest, save that after the
first one, and each quarter brought the
mother a remittance, and each succes¬
sive quarter one of a higher figure.
Welcome, too, were they all; for, but
for such generous aid the workhouse had
claimed her and her ohiidren ; for down¬
ward, still downward, went her husband,
his absence no longer counted by hours
but weeks and months.
In a bustling city, many miles fron
his native town, a stranger one n ; eh
found him in a gutter, half frozen
starved, weary and sick. Like a good
Samaritan, he picked him up, and as h
was too weak to walk, placed him in v
conveyance and had him taken to hi
own home. A warm bath, clean cm
ments, wholesome food and a soft bed
were freely offered him, and passive as
child when worn anZ languid, ho suf
fered them to deal with him as (he;
chose and soon sank into a deep, re¬
freshing slumber.
It was hours ere he awoke, and thei
ho seemed as in a dream. The filth a
gutter iu which he had lost his con¬
sciousness was now exchanged for a downy
bed, with pillows wliito and soft as snow,
with snow-white counterpane and damask
hangings. His rags lie had disappeared,
and in their stead saw himself robed
in line linen. The dirt was washed from
his face, and hands, his hair was combed,
and his tangled beard neatly golden shorn.
He put back the curtains. Glad,
sunbeams were stealing through the
crimson drapery of an nleoved window,
and their brilliant light showed a lofty
chamber, with frescoed walls, a carpet
from Oriental looms, and furniture that
a breathed prince might he, covet. “It is a dream,”
and he closed his eyes.
Light footsteps aroused him soon, 'and
unclosing him them again he saw bending
over early prime, a noble-looking and beside man in life's
him a lovely
woman, and in the eyes of both large
tears were standing.
“Tell me,” said he, eagerly, “do ]
iream, or am I the poor drunkard so
greatly cared for ?”
‘ You arc sick and we must minister t<
you,” replied the lady.
“Sick! ay, sin sick,” he said, ‘Bir
you do not know how vile I am, or yo:
would cast me out at once. Listen. 1
have broken the heart of mv wife. I have
half driven killed my him only first; son from home; ay, am
and I have ill-treat ■>
my other children till they tear m
more than the evil one. Will you car
for me now ?”
He. almost skrieked out tho question
and it seemed as though life and dent!
hung on the answer.
“We must forgive even as we won).
lie forgiven.” said tho mast or of 1 ),
house. “While you can ho happy, stai
with us.”
A week passed away, and still the old
man tarried in that beautiful home, now
toying gently with Lily, the wee, deli¬
cate babe, and then playing gay household, pranks
with Harry, the pride of tho
in a boy pleasant of four summers; now dreaming
the chamber where be first
awoke again to manhood, and then lolling
in an arm-chair in the parlor, fears and
smiles efiasing each other over bis
wrinkled cheeks as the lo vely lady of the
mansion sang, now a gay ditty and then
a solemn hymn. But ne never offered
to cross the threshold.
“I dare not,” lie wonid say, when
asked to ride or walk; “there is danger
in the street, and this calm is so very
sweet. If it could only last.” And then
he would sigh, and sometimes weep anil
sob like a child.
“There is to be a grand rally of the
friends of temperance to-night—tlie new
and splendid hall is to be inaugurated.
Banners will wave, music ling, and
ladies smile! Shall I invite you, my
wife, to accompany me ?’’ said tho mas¬
ter of the house.
“Of course, after such a programme,”
said she, gayly, “ar.d you may depend
upon my going, too. How soon must J
bo ready ?”
“In an hour's time,” he replied. “]
will send a carriage for you, and meet
you myself at the door of the hall. Be
sure that you are ready, for there will be
a tremendous crowd.”
“I will be in time—trust me for that,”
said she, and hastened to perform her
duties to the little ones; but what was
her astonishment when she returned to
the parlor, all bonneted and cloaked, to
find her stanger guest awaiting her.
“I cannot surely be tempted there,’
said he, in a low sad voice; “but if you
will suffer me to ride with you 1 will
gladly go. there It may be that I shall com¬
plete the salvation hero com¬
menced.
Gladly did the lady acquiesce in (he
request, and they were soon at tlie door
of the thronged hall. Not her husband ,
but an intimate friend of his joined then
there, and led them to some reserved
seats near the platform.
There had been stirring music by the
band, fervent prayers by tbe clergy and
thrilling speeches from orators from dis¬
tant parts multitude of the country, the hearts o!
that vast were aroused as they
had never been before to tbe dangers ol
the cup. Then, while yet they were ail
riveted to the subject, the president an¬
nounced “a voice from our home.”
There was a breathless silence for a
moment, and then long and loud acelam
[nations greeted the good Samaritan of
our sketch as he bowed to the waiting
throng. It had seemed to them as the
last speaker hushed his voice, that the
theme, world wide as it is, was quite ex¬
hausted, but so impassioned was the
doquenee that now mastered it. that
they hung upon every word as if he had
spoken of something fresh from heaven. in¬
Where others bad generalized, he
dividualized. He did not take the mass
of drunkards, Vint only one out of them
all, and he portrayed his course in suck
vivid colors that the audience seemed
•razing upon dissolving views rather and than
listening to chosen words; so
J drink, where the husband levels m
he floor tbe wife which once slept m
° he lw mother the f of n h,s li t chij.lren. T 1 7 'Vh they ZJt s^med
mil sobs k and sighs . broke forth irorn the
52%k from hie JSCTSftfSS cheeks.
own
HAMILTON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 3, 1383.
“Do you ask,” said he, when he age;:,
resumed his theme, “do you ask why I
stand here to-night and speak these
things ? Look Why, I not only speak but feel
them? at this,” ho said, lifting
the glossy looks from his left temple.
“Do you see that soar on my forehead ?’
In the brilliant gaslight it was per
fectly visible to many a watchful eye; it
was a ghastly frightl'nl-looking ‘scar,
marring the beauty of a brow that might
otherwise have been a painter’s model
Slowly and solemnly did the speaker
utter each word, then as he stood push
ing back the raven hair, he continued;
“After the drunkard had felled his wife
to the floor he would have kicked hei
prostrate form but that her young son
rushed between the two. What did tin
drunkard do then ?” he exclaimed in o
voice of thunder. Another pause and a
breathless hush. More slowly, mere
solemnly did he speak; “He seized a
knife,” lie continued; “aye, aiid the one
too, his gentle wife herself had laid In¬
side his plate for him to carve the dis!
aer worn and weary fingers had eai.
to sustain his life: he seized it and— <
this 1” and ho pointed to his fort-hen
“To my grave shall I carry this scar an
not till I rest in my grave shall I ceas
to plead for the drunkard’s children.”
With these words fresh on his lips In
withdrew. There was no applauding, in th.
but a silence as of death rested
vast hall. Ere it. was broken by prayei
or hymn with an aged man, older though r
3eemed grief than years, totterei
upon the platform. Trembling in every 11n
nerve and muscle, he leaned against
desk, and finally grasped it for support.
Many times did his lips move ere In
could utter au audible sound, and wliei
lie did speak his words were rather fell
than heard.
“The son has spoken,” he said, “non
let the father. With the sear on lib
forehead yet bleeding, my Ernest, nr
first born, my noble boy, went from lii.-
Iiomo to seek among strangers the peace
his father would not give him on his own
hearthstone. Ten years from that time,
one week ago to-night, that son picked
up his father from a gutter, and instead
nf spuming him as a fallen sinner ho
took him to his home as though lie had
been the angel instead of the demon of
his youth. Deep is the scar on his fore¬
head, but deeper nre the scars on my
heart. Ye have heard him—ye see me.
Let tho story and tho sight be your sal
•ation, as it even now is my own.”
Tho old man was exhausted and fell
back into his sou’s arms.— Truth.
A Singular Case.
A singular divorce ease is before the,
■ijiirts of New York city. In his affi¬
davit the plaintiff says that he arrived
in this country in January last, and on
April 1 made the acquaintance of a young first
woman. It was a case of love at
sight, and while they were spending an
evening together the question of mar¬
riage came up in conversation. Her
relatives represented that according to
the law and customs of N. Y’. State it was
necessary to have the engagement rati¬
fied by an official at the City Hall, He
objected to these summary proceedings
on the ground that he was not suffi¬
ciently acquainted with tlie young lady
nor her antecedents, and that lie desired
first to consult with liis mother, who
was then on her way to thi3city. alleges, It that was
represented however, tho he City Hall
tho ceremony at was
merely a matter of form, and not at all
binding on one of tbe Hebrew faith, and
that the real marriage must be subse¬
quently consummated before a Jewish
Iiabbi. Accordingly, on (he morning
of April 2, the plaintiff, who could not
speak a word of English, went before
one of the Aldermen and was unwillingly
mairiedtohis fair inamorata; believing
that the ceremony was merely a Miss be¬
trothal. He continued to call on
Moses, being unaware, as is alleged,
that she was his wife, and on April 15
married her according to Jewish rites.
Early the next morning his bride went
insane, anil was so violent that ho has
never since been able to live with her,
and has even found it necessary to con¬
fine her in an asylum on Blackwell’s
Island. He states that she has been a
lunatic for some years. He has learned
that she has occasional lucid intervals,
lasting for periods from five days to real¬ two
months, during which times she
izes that she is mentally physicians unbalanced;
but has been assured by that
if she married and became a mother a
permanent cure would be affected. The
plaintiff further charges that she was
enjoying one of those quiet periods at
the time of their acquaintance and mar¬
riage, and that her relatives maliciously
made him the instrument of her very
improbable recovery. On these grounds
he seeks to have the marriage annulled.
The bride is now in the asylum the phy¬
sicians of which would not allow the
papers served upon her, fearful of
the results if this was doDe.
A coirPANV has been formed in Paris,
with a capital of $150,000, “for the pur¬
pose of dragging the Red Sea to recover
the chariot and arms of I’haraoh.
Pharaoh may have owned a pretty gor¬
geous chariot, but it has been in tho wm
ter so long that we don’t believe it s
worth much now. A much better
one can be purchased for less that 8150,
000 And as for Pharaoh’s arms, unless
they are [ictrified, they would lie of no
more value than his legs. —NorrUtown
Herald.
A Lot of Them.—D uring 15 years 50
libel snits, with damages aggregating brought
two millions of dollars, have been
against the Baltimore American, and
the paper has paid only $500 to the dis¬
tressed complainants. That s about as
good as going into business and failing
on a basiA of one-quarter of one percent..
says Burdette. Say that a newspaper
ain’t a good commercial investment.
° bny a lot oljemnards of Texas
herds, mo y ,,, ’ , „
tu« ■ ( lot 4 of
he the range,
course, without counting. It is said
’ herds of 2.000 b*v«
wav
«* - »* » - >»•««•
FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH.
IVliy Men Dread to End Their Lives Ir
t.ii-at Ciitnsiroiilien.
Nothing „ . is more curious than .. the fact ,
(lint dying as one of a crowd, seems to
be more terrible to a man than simply
dying bis own individual death. Ln*
questionably there seems to be no kind
of death more dreaded by men than
death either from sudden catastrophes
--like that of the Bing theatre at
lenna and that of the Clyde, lor m
fiance—or from pestilence. No doubt
it is perfectly true that death cannot oe
shared in the same sense m which a
peril or a pleasure can be shared; you
jannot, iu all probability, companionship be conscious after
of tho strength of
life begins to flicker low, nor are there
above one or two people in tho world
with whom most men would covet the
sense of companionship death. Still in such it is a mo¬
ment ns that of some¬
what curious that death on a grand scale
always seems to be more terrible, even
to separate individuals, than the ordinary
death by units. Of course, terror is
very catching, and, therefore, tho terror
of a crowd always enhances tho terror
of the individual. But though that ex¬
plains the supreme agony of a sinking
ship or a burning theatre, it does not in
the least explain the additional dread of
death which plague seems to inspire in
individuals, for between the inhabitants
of a plague-stricken city there is always
very much less activo pestilence sympathy than
there was lief ore the appeared,
and it is rather through the growth of
mutual repulsion than through the
heightening of a common sympathy,
that tho influence of pestilence is chiefly
felt. Perhaps it will be said that men
do not fear death'the more on account of
I ho number dying around them, but
only as that number makes evident the
greatness of the risk. But that can
hardly be the explanation of the matter,
otherwise we in might expect a much
greater terror every man to whom the
doctors so frankly acknowledge that
death is imminent, so that we ought to
And in a healthy inhabitant of a plague
stricken city, whose chance of death is
probably much less than one iu t wo
As a matter of fact, very few patients
stricken with ordinary inevitable, disease, who are
told that death is show any
panic at nil, while the perfectly healthy
man, surrounded by pestilence, is ioo
often consumed with a terror which rend¬
ers him absolutely unfit for tbe discharge
of his duties. It seems certain that the
selfish terror inspired by the sight of
dying crowds decaf unnerve men in a
manner in which n sentenco of death
passed upon themselves would not un¬
nerve them at all. We wonder why this
is, and suppose the reason to be that it
is only a great risk in combination with
the chance of escape that unnerves a
man whom the prospect of certain death
would not unnerve at all. It is the
eager passion with which all the mind
rushes into tho alternative of prolonged
life that really unmans a nature which
would bo steady enough in facing cer¬
tain death. Mingle a great fear with a
vivid ray of hope and you will turn a
head which could hold its own against eli
inevitable fate. Tho tumultuous -
mi nt in the ease of plague is, wo rather be¬
lieve, the selfish desire to escape
than the actual prospect of death. The
panic felt is really the panic of tempestu¬
ous hope rather than the panic of fear.
Extinguish the hope and tho panic will had
often cease as completely ns if you
extinguished tho fear itself.
The Cyclone Season.
One tho fiercest of the many torna¬
does that havo occurred within the last
four months was tlmt which swept over
southern Michigan on Monday, July 23.
It played havoc with farm houses, barns,
fences, orchards, and forest trees stand¬
ing iu its track. Several women and
children were killed, one woman, accord¬
ing to the telegraphic dispatches, being
[licked up by the wind and torn to
pieces. It early last spring that this
was ex¬
traordinary series of storms began, anil
very few weeks have passed since fatal then des¬
without bringing news of the whirlwinds.
tructive work ot one or more
Sometimes several tornadoes have oc¬
curred nearly simultaneously indifferent
places. Disastrous rainbursts and thun¬
der storms have added to the extraordi¬
nary character of the weather, and only
evidence of a similar condition of atmos¬
pheric disturbance extending all over
the world is needed to give very strong
confirmation to the views of the sun¬
spot theorists, for during all these
stormy months, and up to the present
moment, the sun has been spotted like a
leopard’s skin, and plainly agitated by
tremepdons disturbing forces. Some
shreds of the required evidence of a
world-wide extension of meterological
disturbances have lieen obtained, but tbe
record is very incomplete and unsatis¬
factory. There have, for instance, been
extraordinary rains in some parts of
Europe, including waterspouts in Hun¬
gary, and we have heard of destructive
inundations in India, or a terrible hur¬
ricane at tlie Samoan Islands, anil of
great floods in Buenos Ayres. Still, no
student of nature, preliably, would lie
willing to look upon all this as proving with
that sun-spots have anything to do
the weather, especially since previous ot>
servations during periods of sun-spot
maxima have given doubtful anil con¬
flicting results. But it may, furnished perhaps,
be said that the evidence by
the extraordinary storms of the last two ,
or three years is favorable to the sun
spot theory, and that it would not re
quire a great deal more of the name sort ,
of evidence to iflcline the scales of judg- j
ment decidedly in favor of tho theory.
Whatever the cause may be, it is cer
tain that it would 1* hard to match tin
weather record of 1883, and, judging |
from the telescopic aspect of tho sun |
Inriiifr 7 tlir ' laat nix months r an inhabitant :
time when sun storms had been so fre
ouent ^ and so fierce.— New York Sun.
“Whai is true bravery,” asks a New
York paper. It is going to sleep while
your wife «its tip iu 1> 1 to listen for i :ir
chirs .—Detroit Free. Frees.
A HOTEL WEDDING.
lioiv It in Prepared tor ami I'iitrHill Out.
“Well, now, take a wedding in n hotel,
and the man and liis wife start out on a
perfectly fair and square basis,” said a
prominent hotel clerk. “It’s give and
take from the word go, and that's the
correct thing in matrimonial life. This
is the way it is managed. The groom
rtI1( | the bride's father come here and
make a ]j the arrangements two weeks
before the event. Tf they in advance, are wise they
wiu also pny ab bills even
t ,> tipping the hull bovs and waiters,
Then they will not he bothered by de¬
mauds for money during tbe festivities,
The bride and her mother and friends
come to the hotel some hours before the
ceremony and busy themselves with the
toilt-t. A suit of rooms is at their dis
p 0gld> witb absolutely everything- at
,,. U id. Trained attendants of all kinds
are at a moment's call, nml no conven¬
ience is lacking. The groom lias also n
room, which is used as a sort of consola¬
tion apartment by the friends of the
il ceased—I mean the friends of tho
groom. the clergyman anil the
“All this time
members of the bride’s nnd groom’s
families are receiving their friends in
the suite of parlors. At the proper mo¬
ment tlie procession is formed, and mnrrieit. they
all march into the parlor anil are
Then they all file into breakfast or sup¬
per, whichever the case may b \ without
going to the usual trouble of putting on
their wraps and After lighting all their this is way to
their carriages. over
tho well-balanced and evenly-started
couple drive off together. Thus every¬
thing is accomplished unfairness, without and there bustle,
confusion, or is no
danger of the bride or the lady church guests
catching cold by exposure at the
door. ”
“Are there many hotel weddings ?”
“Bless you, yes. have Many just are outlined, not on
the elaborate scale I
though wo had one here last week at
which there were 400 guests, and even
more extensive ones take phico. Some¬
times people get married at a hotel be¬
cause there is sickness in the bride's
family. There are other instances
where a wealthy groom lias hesitated to
ask liin swell friends to his sweetheart’s
humble home. Such a case occurred
recently when a millionaire toy manu¬
facturer married one of liis factory girls.
She was announced as a native of a
small town in Massachusetts, that but the
deception was so tliin even the em¬
ployees of the house saw through it.
She was a lovely girl. weddings
“A largo proportion ol hotel
are contracted by people New-York Jiving for out Hie of
town. They eomo to know, and they
tone of the thing, you who keep as
seldom have friends house
here, they resort to the big hotels.
Some of these couples arc united in the
public parlors simply humbly and quietly, in single while
others aro joined of the a lintel
room. In such cases one
proprietors or the manager or the clerk,
or may ho all of them, are called in to
witness the ceremony. Such weddings
aro usually good fun for us, and we some¬
times give tlie newly married couple a
little dinner, and wo always kiss the
bride.”
The clerk smiled a gentle adieu to Ihc
reporter at tins point, and gracefully assumed
another pasture, resumed his
haughty surveillance of the porters.
Hints A land Canning I 'ruIts.
There are various methods practiced
for preserving the fruits and homes
which are so plenty in many sections at
this season. Mrs. George \V. Ladd,
Bradford, Mass., gives her method of
canning fruits, fur which she was
awarded first premium at the last exhibi¬
tion of the Essex County Agricultural of
Society, as follows: “As tho season
ripe fruit advances, I prepare such quan¬
tities of syrup as! think I may need, in
this way: Three pounds of granulated
sugar to one gallon of water and boil
twenty minutes; this I put in glass jars,
when cool, and set away for future use.
Beaches, pears, apples, plums, pine-ap¬
ples, rhubarb, crab-apples, and, in fact,
all fruits of this kind, I peel, quarter
and place in a dish of cold water (to pre¬
vent discoloration), until J have prep ired
enough to till a jar; I then pack them as
solid as possible in a jar, and then till
the jar with tho syrup previously in pre¬ he
pared. I then place a wire stand t
bottom of my preserving ki tile, on which
to place tho jar, then fill the kettle
with cohl water until the jar
is two - thirds covered ; leave
tlie jar open, jnst cover the kettle and
boil until the fruit is sufficiently soft,
have ready a little boiling syruo, if
needed, to fill the jur full to overflowing.
Then piece the rubber band around tin
neck of the jnr and screw the cover on
as tightly as possible; then in from three
to five minutes give the cover another
turn, in order to he sure it is air tight;
arid you will havo no mortal trouble
w.th it. I use jars with metallic porce¬
lain covers.”
For canning berries and small fruits
Mrs. Ladil gives the following direc¬
tion!: “Place the fruit in a preserving
kettle, and then add just water enough
to prevent burning and boil from five
to ton minutes; then place a wet towel
around and under tbe jar, then till thv
jar with the boiling fruit anil seal imme¬
diately. I do not use any sugar until I
open them for the table. The present
year I have filled J50 jars and have not
broken a single one. Others vary the.
above methods somewhat. The main
o , • t b all metbod s j H to heat tin
fnjjt Bnfficient]y to drive out tlie air and
deB f roy a ][ germs, then seal immediately
an(J k in a coo [_ dark place.”
A Honomtmj wwarA*- 1-1*? la ¬
publishing some excessively p H
to King Kalakaua. It I
his adwsers c^amands pute , j
one among the public money is |
lie respect, that
i.f-inu: ciquandered to gratify persona, shame
t at the public works are j
contract system » a scandal and that
,,.ilv the remarkable prosperity of tho ;
i -tUon 'entrains the people from giving
■‘.nt r o their opinions. “ Let that pros- j
pci * itv have a slight check,”it says, “and
wh h affair will drop like a pack ol
cards# ”
$1. 00 A YEAR.
AAI10N RUHR’S LOVE LETTERS, j
\\ Imi n Vctornn New York Editor Ims In
Hny At>mil Tin-ill.
In liis autobiography, Tlmrlow Weed j
tells some interesting facts about the j
correspondence of Aaron Burr, ilbieli be ;
learned from Mr. Matthew L. D..vis, |
who was Burr’s literary executor. For
nearly forty years, Mr. Davis was tbe
only reliable friend whom Burr had.
During his absenco in Eure p<; lie covr b
sponded only with liis daughter and Mr.
Davis, the hitter being the only person
who welcomed the return of tho once j
popular-Vice Davis President. Weed that Colonel
informed Mr.
Burr’s first inquiry on lady, lauding happily was for -
Mrs. Eden, a widow once ;
and prosperously situated, but who bud \
during Burr’s absence supported laundress. herself ;
Colonel and two daughters professional us a service ,
Burr’s first
after his return was in bringing tho well
kuown ejectment suit, which, after two
years the Misses of litigation Eden, who, resulted lias in Mr. favor Davis of j
i
informed Mr. Weed confidentially, were i
tlio natural daughters of Colonel Burr,
Colonel Burrmade Mr. Dav:s his literary
executor, with the understanding that
with the materials bequeathed to him a
history of his life should he written.
The confidential female correspondence
of Mr. Burr constituted a large portion
of these materials, leaving Mr. D.-vis, so
fax as ho understood the views ol Colonel
Burr, at liberty to make such use of
those letters as he might think proper.
Says Mr. preservation Weed: of such letters
“The
carefully tiled, and, initials when having either anon- the
ynious or with
lml name of the writer indorsed was an
act of treachery and baseness ot which,
happily for society, few human beings
Imve boon iouml capable. Hu Colonel
Burr- looked upon the matter with eyes
am from a stni.dpnnit still more nnnpt
ural, tor on the day beloro Ins duel with
General Hamilton, ui a letter to lus
daughter, Mrs Iheoilosm Allen lie be
(ineathed, m the event of lus fall, these
cimhdoutinl letters to her indicating
the boxes in which they would be found
and instructing her to read them and <>
ourn all such as, it made public, would
injure any person As however Ham
ilton instead of Burr tell those 1.-Iters
,vero preserve,I from 1804 to 18,%, mid
then bequeathed without n.struetioi, to
Mr. avis. For two or three years lie
imxi ( i. om 1 Barr s death 1 oeeasionally
v,sit,-. him m company with Mr. Davis,
sometimes ami .. thoughi drawn generally^reticent, into conversation lie was
-bout early and intonating events, nl
ivays in the morbid spirit of a damp
saiaAKsr language ms ho
bOgiog in UiHrrnoss of of of the
never spoke aiTiovaig with y whom any he h«j
.lislingnished ted. men I frequently visited
been imocu
Mr. Davis while he was preparing his
life of Bnrr, and had free nooess to t,lie
.niwiii.ui.ii
JTSS; i"S , .
8. 7 5
character. In several instances the let
(era embraced a period of several years,
concluding with charges of treadiory
falsehood and desertion. Mr. Davis was
par icnlarlv anxious to restore all such
letters to the persons who wrote them.
Two packages were delivered by Mr.
Davispersonally to ladies residing in the
city of New York. One package Va„ was
transmitted to a lady in Richmond,
1 1,rough General He,fit. Mr. Davis
earnestly requested me to deliver a pack
age to a highly respectable lady with
whom I was aeipuiiiited but when I do
clined that too delicate duty lie com
milled them to the flames. It is due to
the memory of my old friend Davis that
I should say that, although eompensation a poor man, of
living upon the weekly
two guineas received for letters written
to the London Times, Ids honor and in
feprity resisted large offers of compeiisa
Hon for Colonel Burr’s confidential cor
iesiionilence. The late Major M. M.
Noah was not only liberal in ids -filers
;,f money, but importunate i-. bis ap
peals to Mr. Davis. All, however,
!-i„l proved ineffectual. Mr. Davis made an
of the matter by consigning all tho
letters that had not been returned to
the writers to the flames.”
A Veteran Gone.
Captain John Leitch, tho oldest exp¬
lain iu service of tho Cunard company.
ukI perhaps tho oldestcommunder cross¬
ing the Atlantic,died as sea Tuesday, July
24th. Owing to failing health tho cap¬
tain asked to be transferred to the Medi¬
terranean fleet, anil uine years ago he
made liis last trip across, taking one of
tlio Cunard steamers with him. Sinco
then Captain Leitch had commanded
the Saragossa which runs from Liver¬
pool up the Mediterranean. Ho was
acknowledged to bo by far the coolest
man aboard a chip during the most try¬
ing moments, and was kind and consid¬
erate to those under his command.
His careful management and watch¬
fulness earned for him the reputation of
being a safe custodian of human freight,
and many persons about to cross tlie
Atlantic would often wait lengthy the
periods to sail across with
genial captain. Captain Leitch was
bora in Scotland, anil at the time of bis
death was about seventy years of age.
He had been in the service for over fifty
years,______ and those who knew him and will
read of liis death will regret to learn
that his last resting place was in the bot¬
tom of the sea. Ho was buried from his
own vessel, the BaragosRa.
Dividend in England.— Tho lowest
dividend per annum among the joint
banka of England which i» that paid of five the
London anil Yorkshire,
Am8 «gl,t paid ten per cenL or more,
paid , each fifteen cent, or more
.re per paid twenty
and one, tho Birmingnatn,
per «. n t, as it has during the past five
years with entire regularity. Similar
dividends are common on the Octfiiiya*
vl Europe,
TAKING ALL OF THE CAKE.
A YYKI.L DRAWN PirTTJKK OF VICITOUY
A.Ml DEFEAT.
Tlie Roy Blue Bull Club nnd tbe Welcome
Home It Receives.
There is probably no prouder period
j ti | lkc life of a boy than when he first
1,,-longs to a base ball club, and puts on
ft rod cap and goes with his club to an
adjoining town to play A match against
a rivrt l club. To a boy of twelve years
there is no position on earth that he
wou [ d exchange for that of pitcher editor of
s , lob a The other day the'
0 f The Sun was going into the country,
and a victorious boy base ball club, that
bad j nst defeated another club, got on
tbo tru i u ft t a Nation t > go home, and
tbo , )r ide that was visible on the faces
of tbe victorious boys was only equaled
by tbe j ook (> f 8ft dne»s on the faces of
tbe lloy „ belonging to the rival club
wbicb W(lB nt t i„, depot to see the visi
tor8 j off> Residents of the defeated vii
a , e „ rown persons, were at the depot,
Bm jjj u g- sickly smiles at the victorious
boTS „ 8tbey pot „„ the cars for the re
turn’home, and the same citizens looked de
crog8 { nt their own boys moved who were off with
toa ed and ns the train
fc ho elated rod caps, tho local blue caps
sbmk to their homes down back streets,
thpir b( , ad(t l ] owu> anxiona to get ont • f
8jgbto{ ^mod t lie neighbors, who were
of them because they cot beat,
The do f ea t 0 d town actually had a
loomy foV81l ken look, as though a
groflt calamity had befallen tho coinnui
pity. The local squire, who was on the
t platform, mid who had acted as
nm pj ro 0 f the game, seemed to feel tho
sadness, ns though he feared
° nnity o„l<I lay the defeat to
com W
bi > nml makfi remarks about his ruling
at ft critica , moment of tho game, but
j-bero waH a look () f ooitscionn innocence
Qn ]iis { nB though he done felt that and he
, m(1 a „ H b(i wou | d bo by,
WM winin „ to 8uffor m0 disappointed rtyrdom if need and
be, at the Iiands of his
gri( , v( , (1 1K . jg bbors. Tho ’bus driver who
j la ,j brought tho visitors to the depot,
lso b . i( , vo d, mid when a bar bo
. <lof(Nltcd clllb j iuto
to ri(lo down town, the driver
M ’ „ H out of that’bus,
J a .. 0 110 and the poor boy,
ha(1 ru)) lnH j „ ( ,q; folt tbo 8 i lft me
n[mucceH8 f n l ) a l )OIer
world , and lie crawled out of tho
laughing stock of the crowd,
Tbo editor of the local paper was at the
P ^ and , looked a , though the de
l f fl) , ,,, to h ; „ Ild it
B()0 med R8 though Sarcastic his next week’s paper
. article on the
r of -a- , h(5 gftln0 tho um pire,
j
^yrfiowmmaeut It w« ____
, vith ,,' tlll - Kueei ssfiil club. Citizens who
L i(jd , iKo to tho camp
01ICI WC re all smiles, mid made
jnqnirte \ as to the hr nines of the
, h{ , rain ot tbe first base
up i.,,,™,, to iba top *1.1,11......ighliocs of tho cur to catch ik as it
would look
on from tho otln-r end of the carand
‘ p ls . 11 dlUH , . y- „ ,,,,„ } h f P or
«*?.. boys were very hap y, happier '
spiring president miliionmre
tlinu the or any on
<’ ll *«i. It showed the difference between
«*«*« luld f ‘ uluul l,ctt,:r thau
thing wo ever approached saw. the station
The tram
where he hoys lived, and n l was hurry
They hurried through ho car and
rmd to suppress ho nm of satisfac
hon, or look (llgj.ifled, as though defeat
«« nval ball clubs was an cviirv day
occurrence with them, which dnl not
elate them at a.l. But when the train
«t<n*P<-*d, and half the town was at the
dejjot to meet the visitors, and they
were welcomed with smiles and hand
shakes, and mothers would pick out
«*eir bovs, who went away in the mom
uig eo clean, and came back at evening
HO dirty, and kiss them, the bovs looked
as though (hat was a and familiarity they would they
could not encourage,
P'i'l away from the loving mothers and
get into the crowd where they could be
cheered by stout lungs instoul of being
kissed. The local editor of the victon
mis town, was there with hm umbrella
and his face was all smiles, and he shook
hands with the boys us though they had
brought the millennial back with them
insviad of lame backs.
As the train moved off, nnd tho vic¬
torious base-ball boys were formed iu
hue, to march down town, one carry¬
ing a broom, as » token that they had
“cleaned out” their rivals, and the old
men standing around laughing, and act¬ nml
ing as though the country was safe,
old and young women, ami gai-s, lo< a...
on lovingly, and waving liandk- rchieb
at the victorious, happy-hearted kids, it
reminded us of a regiment returning
fn m the war. Few of those who wel
corai d their victors, thought of tbe poor,
defeated fellows of tho other side, who
were carrying heavy hearts about with
tlu-m. It is so with everything, every¬
where. Success is what takes tbe cake,
while failure takes the crumbs. Boys,
alwavs succeed, if .you can. but remem¬
ber the next time the other crowd may
wipe you out, and then you will know
how it is yourselves.
A citizen or Boston, whom The
Gazette of that city does not name but
loosely describes as “a well-kuown
gentleman,” has made three wills dur
mg the last twenty years, appointing
I nee different sets of executors—nine
all. One way after another every one
-if the nine has in one way or another
Miown himself unworthy of an. important it
•rust and the testator now finds
leci ssary to select a fourth set of execu
•nrs.
“Sat, George,” said the married man
whose wife had been ill, “I’ve dis¬
charged that nurse we had, and l‘m
taking her place myself now.” “Taking
her place?” inquired George. do, old “What ?
part of her work cau you man
“Oh, I can do it about all,” w as the re
ply, -‘I always was a sound sleeper,”