Newspaper Page Text
B y R. S. HOWARD.
VOLUME YI.
Creeping Up the Stairs.
In the softly falling twilight
Oft he weary, weary day,
With a quiet step I entered
Where the children were ftt play ;
I was brooding o’er some trouble
That had met me unaware,
When ft little voice came ringing,
“ Mo is creepin’ up a stair.”
Oh’ it touched the tender heart-string
With ft breath and force divine,
Ami such melodies awakened
As words can ne’er define,
Ah I turned to see our darling,
All forgetful of cares,
When 1 saw the little creature
Slowly creeping up the stairs.
Step by step she bravely clambered
On her little hands and knees,
Keeping up a constant chattering,
Like tho magpies in the trees.
Tin at last she reached the topmost,
When o’er all her world’s affairs
She delighted, stood a victor,
After creeping up the stairs.
Fainting heart, behold an image
Of man’s b iet and struggling lifo,
Whose best prize mu3t ho capture
With an earnest noble strife!
Onward, upward reaching ever,
Bending to the weight of cares.
Hoping, fearing, still expecting,
We go creeping up the stairs.
On the steps may he no carpet,
Bv their aide may b 8 no rail,
Hinds ami knees may often pain us,
Am! the lioarl ntty almost fall;
.S ill above there is a glory
Wrick no Hinlulitcss impairs,
Wu!i it-> -istand joy lorever,
Al er creeping up the stairs.
The Deacon Would a-Wooing Go.
Tin- suit ha l disappeared behind the
lijHsefNew Bethany, and the lingering
light on the mountain tops was chang
ing from rose to purple, when Deacon
Pinch tl his melancholy old mare
in front of the village postoffice. It
was Saturday night, the only time when
New Bethany roused itself irom its
Irthargy and showed any signs of life
and energy. The rest of the week it
drowsed and languished after the
fashion of small country towns remote
from railway and manufacturing cen
ters.
“Whoa. Mary Jane! ’ said the deacon
with unnecessary emphasis throwing
tti reins on the mare’s broad back and
neriijdng t>> the grr und.
Rut the despondent Mary Jane had
already ceased her shambling gait from
sheer fore'' of habit. A ten year’s ser
rice with the deacon had made her
perfectly fuuiliar with the accustomed
round of stopping places. Wednesday
nijjht it was the prayer meeting; Sun
diy,the church service; and Saturday
night, invariably the postoffice, and.
ns a late variation, an after pause at tin
hou-ie of Mrs. Betsy Hill, the town
milliner, who for a quarter of acenturj
hul 'upplifd the women of New Bethany
with head-gear fearfully and wonder
fully made.
The moment the deacon stepped in
side the office he knew, from the un
usual buzz of conversation, that some
thinj extraordinary had happened,
“ Heard the news—eh, deacon ?” asked
one of the village loungers.
The deacon looked up inquiringly.
“ Miss Ivezia’s had an amazin' streak
of luck.”
“It's been nothin’ but an amazin’
streak of lu >k ever since she was born,”
returned the deacon. “If ownin’the
best farm in town and hevin’money at
interest isn’t luck, I’d like to know
what is.”
es, but this is something out of
oonunon. You used to know her
brother, who died vears ago and left
bis only child for Miss Kezia to bring
I ' n ; MVal, when old man Mead died
Miss Kezia took the farm as her 6liaie
o: the property, and her brother, being
11 n rovin’ turn of mind, took the few
thousands of personal property as his’n
and invested ’em in Western lands,
turned out wuthless, and he lost
•very cent lie put in. Folks always
‘ ■amed him for bein’ so foolish and
la 3ty, and they say grief and mortifica-
; :on Jl ke hastened his death. Wa’al,
1 tUrns out now they liev’ put a rail
roai* S( ]Uare thro’ the lands, and its
3 u estate ’way up, nobody knows
" *:to. Mi ss Kezia’s bin offered nigh
° n '° eight thousand dollars (or the
am - and they say she’ll get ever so
u it more if she only holds out.”
ou don't mean it?’’
,1 dew; it’s as true as Seriptur.”
, She’ll hold out, never fear,”said the
a eon; “and I hold it to be our
)o unden duty as neighbors to advise
ller to that end.”
instead of lingering as usual for the
'i-.age gossip lor the New Bethany
Postoffice on Saturday night answered
Lje P Ur pose of a weekly paper—the dea
!/' n seemed in a great hurry to get
s w as the night of the choir rehear
?,l‘' and in driving by the church he
Mary Mead, Miss Kezia’s niece,
So; ng up the steps. He suddenly
whipped up his sleepy old mare and
ltove home at a breakneck rate of
speed.
Now’s yer time, Solomon Pinch,”
, muttered to himself; “it mebbe a
‘ •ng while afore ye’ll hev such a good
Jhance ag’in. She’ll be sure to be alone
a couple o’ hours or so —Hi, old
■ no stoppin’ here to-night,” he
a, , !'-d, giving the lines a sudden twist
ru * hiry Jane showed an inclination to
; t0 P before Mrs. Betsy Hill’s house.
u., ve ot flcr fish to fry now, old girl.”
’ hen he rea< hed home he drove the
- ue under the horse-shed and tied her
the forest news.
usual’ tT"’, 0f unhar i* her „
usua . Then he entered the house, and
hasttly swallowing the scanty supper
whieh the hired woman placed before
him, donned his best clothes and drove
off again at a rapid pace.
Law sakes alive!” exclaimed the
woman, amazed. “The deacon’s got
suthin on his mind, sure! It’s the first
time I ever knew him to disremember
to ask a bleßsin\”
Ever since the death of his wife Dea
con Pinch had looked on Miss Kezia as
Her probable successor. For years he
had gazed with covetous eyes on the
fine Mead farm with its substantial
buildings, but he never could screw his
courage up to the point of facing the
snapping black eyes of its owner. Of
late he had been seen several times
knocking at the door of Mrs. Betsy
Hill s little brown house, and the
worthy milliner was overjoyed at the
opening of this brilliant prospect before
her. But the news of the sudden rise
m Western lands caused Mrs. Hill, with
her small possessions to sink into insig
nificance by the side of this rich woman
with.her well-tilled acres, her overflow
ing barns and her prospective thousands
of dollars.
The idea of failure in his matrimonial
venture never for an instant entered the
deacon’s head. “ The way afore ye is
as plain and straight as a pipe-stem,
Solomon Pinch,” he murmured, rubbing
the palms of his hands together, as he
walked toward Miss Kezia’s side door.
“Women is mostly alike- 1 eager an’
willin’ to embrace matrimonial oppor
tunities. They’ll snap at an offer like a
hungry trout at a worm. She has got
the money, and I hev’ got the promin
ence and influence; that’s a p’int not to
be overlooked; and deacons isn’t to be
had every day. Put her money and my
influence together, and I rayther guess
we’ll stand about top o’ the heap in
New Bethany.”
Miss Kezia was sitting by the table
knitting as usual. She had just begun
to narrow for the toe of the stocking,
when a step sounded on the walk. She
threw down the stocking and opened
the door, and, holding the lamp hi h
above her head, her eyes rested on the
amazing spectacle of the deacon in all
the Sunday magnificence of white shirt
and shiny black broadcloth. “ Well I
never! ’ she ejaculated, and feeling
that her reception had been hardly
hospitable, she lowered the lamp and
said k : nlly, “Come in, descon —come
in.”
“ Thank ye, thank ye; I don’t mind
if I dew.’l
“ Take a seat, deacon.”
“Thank ye; I don’t miod if I clew.”
The deacon surveyed the attractive
room, which, with it^’cheery fire and
comfortable cushioned chairs, seemed a
veritable paradise in comparison with
his untidy, ill-kept home. He placed
his baton the door beside his chair,dis
playing his scant gray locks ingeniously
plastered over the top of his he id so as
to cover :i3 much of the b*M surface as
possible. Then there was a long pause
“ Any thing going on, deacon P” asked
Miss K zia, resuming her knitting. She
was greatly puzzled to account for those
Sunday clothes.
“ Nothin’ within the range of my ob
servation. There won’t be much agoin’
on now till ’lection time; tilings’ll be
pretty lively then.”
“Want to buy any hay this year?”
chirped Miss Kezia. “Mine is extra
good this season; my hired man says
it’s the heaviest yield in town.”
“I rayther guess I'll hev enough to
carry methro the winter. If I don’t I
shall know where to come for hay as is
hay. 1 declare your farm does beat all!
I feel kind o’ rigged like when I think
the best farm in town is managed by a
woman.”
M iss Kezia smiled graciously, and the
deacon drew his chair a little nearer
his hostess. “It must be a great load
for ye to carry alone. Such a large farm
is a tie mem-jous responsibility for a
lone woman ”
“Oil, I don’t mind it; it keeps me
proper busy.”
The deacon hitched his chair along a
few inches farther. “ Ye'd ougkter hev
a brother or cousin, or some relative
like, to share the burden with ye.”
“My shoulders are plenty strong,”
returned Miss Ivezia, good naturedly.
“ I’m glad to show folks that there are
women who are good for something be
sides giddy-gaddying and tattling.”
“ Yis, yis,” answered the deacon, “ we
can all testify to your rally and worth.
You’re really a honor to your sex.
You’re—you’re a bright and shinin’
beacon light to the triflin’ and
vain-minded women of the world
and the speaker waved his hand at the
conclusion of this little oratorical flour
ish.
Then hitch, hitch, hitch went the
chair toward Miss Kezia. “ Don’t ye
feel sort o’ lonely at spells,” he asked,
insinuatingly.
Miss Kezia glanced suspiciously at
the rapidly-advancing chair. She
dropped her knitting and went to the
fire and piled up the blazing sticks of
wood. Then she came back to the
table and set her chair on the farther
side of it, thus putting a barrier be
tween her and her visitor. “ I’m never
lonely, deacon; plenty to do is the best
medicine for loneliness.”
“ But woman’s a tender, dependent
creatur’; woman’s a vine, and needs
sutbin’ to cling to when the troublous,
desolatin’ waves and winds of affliction
and sorrer roll over her.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Miss
Kezia with a contemptuous sniff. “ I
shouldn’t have expected that a man of
your sense, deacon, would repeat such
silly trash I have no patience with
the people who are always talking as if
JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1880.
a woman couldn’t stand alone, and
needed proping up, like a rag doll that
hadn’t any backbone. I’ m no vine-no
such creeping, helpless thing, I can tell
you. I can 3tand alone as well as any
body, if the Lord so wills it, altho’ I ad
mit, deacon, that it’s pleasanter to have
someone keep you company.”
“That’s jest it; ye hev’ hit the nail
squar’ on the head! It is pleasanter to
hev’ company in our sojourn on this
mortal earth.”
The deacon seized his chair with both
hands and by n circuitous line of hitch
ing placed it within three feet of Miss
Kezia’s table: “You’re a forehanded
woman, Miss Kezia; I’m a man of
prominence and influence in the com
munity; it spemsto me that it would be
a good thing if we could walk hand in
hand thro’ this vale of tears. Provi
dence seems to p’int its finger that
way. ” The dr aeon was thinking at that
very moment of the money he would
save by putting a thrifty manager like
Miss Kezia in the place of his inefficient,
wasteful hired woman.
Miss Kezia was dumbfounded. She
dropped her knitting, and the ball of
yarn rolled across the floor. “Mercy!”
she finally gasped.
“I’ll make ye a first-rate husband,
and ye’ll make me a good wife. We’ve
been members of the same church for
thirty years or more, and we’ve been
members of the spiritooal family, we’ll
now be members of the same human
family.”
Miss Kezia straightened herself up
in her high-back chair and drew in her
chin, while her voice rang out shrill
and clear: “I rather guess it’ll take
two to make that bargain.”
A second look at her aged admirer,
who was edging up to her with a sheep
ish simper, exasperated the woman
beyond control. “The old fool!” she
said, wrathfully.
The color came into the deacon’s
thin cheeks, and he started to his feet,
looking anxiously toward the door, as
if meditating a hasty retreat. But the
yarn was wound around his boots and
he was forced to remain.
Miss Kezia likewise rose, and folding
her hands primly in front of her, re
marked, grimly: “ When you first began
your talking I hadn’t the lease idea
what you were driving at. I thought
you were hinting about Betsy Hill, and
wanted to take me into your confidence.
I never dreamed that you meant me.
Why, I supposed every one iu town
knew that I wouldn’t give up my free
dom tor the best man living. Betsy
Hill is a pious, likely woman; she'll
make a good home for you, end she
needs a home herself.”
The deacon looked completely
withered, and Miss K r zia continued:
“ If you'll step around a little livelier,
deacon, and piek up the stones on your
lots and put them into good fences, and
mow down some of tuose pesky weeds,
thrre’s no earthly reason why your farm
shouldn’t look as well as mine. If I’ve
said anything to hurt your feelings,
deacon, hope you’ll overlook it Why, 1
you are all twisted up in that yarn; I’ll
untangle it.”
The delay in unwinding the yarn
from the deacon’s feet gave Miss K< zia
a chance for further remark: “One
word more, deacon; have you heard
about those Western lands?”
The deacon wished he was anywhere
out of the range of those mercih ss black
eyes. “ I—think I’ve heern tell suthin'
about ’em,” he replied, meekly.
“I thought so! I thought so!” ex
claimed Miss Kezia, savagely. “Well,
deacon, those lands rightfully belong
to my niece Mary; I only hold them as
her guardian.”
The deacon began to look upon hi 3
rejection as a blessing in disguise, for
without the Western lands Miss Kezia’s
attraction seemed tame compared with
those of mild, blue-eyed, buxom Widow
Hill. “ I can trust to ye never to men
tion this?” he asked, timidly.
“ I shall never speak of it. Now, fol
low my advice, deacon; make sure of
Betsy Hill before another week goes by.
You have my good wishes. See to this
at once.”
“Thank ye, thank ye; I don’t mind
if I dew.”
The good woman followed her crest
fallen visitor to the door. Asa sudden
gust of cold night air put out the light,
she said: “ The air is snapping to-night;
have a frost, eh, deacon ?”
And the discomfited deacon felt that
he had been nipped by something
sharper than a frost. — Livpincoti's Maga
zine.
An Immense State.
Texas, writes Selma Brown to the
Troy Times, is a vast empire in itself.
It has an area of 345,000 square miles,
or about 175,000,000 acres. It extends
through nearly ten degrees of latitude
and over thirteen degrees of longitude.
It has 60,000 square miles more than
the German empire; 70,000 square
miles more than all France, and mors
than twice as large as the kingdom of
Great Britain. It is nearly five times
as large as Illinois, six times as large as
New York, and mnre than t lirty-five
times the area of Massachusetts. Take
the six New England States, add the
four Middle States, then add Maryland,
Virginia, and North Carolina, and all
these thirteen States are not so large as
Texas. The census of 1889 will show a
population of about 2,000,000, one-half
of whom have entered the State within
the last ten years. The entire popu
lation of the United States could be
comfortably supported on the soil of
this gigantic commonwealth
“ So, emigrants and homeless men
Need no logger vex u®;
For all that aren’t provided lor
HadJjetter go to Texas.”
FOR THE PEOPLE.
A Few Remarks.
Several gentlemen were sitting on the
veranda of the Plankinton house one
warm evening recently, when the con
versation turned upon the subject of
profits in the various kinds of business.
A banker who was present inquired of a
newspaper man whose name we sup
press on account of respect lor his
family, if newspaper* ever made any
money. The newspaper man said there
were instances of the kind, but they
were rare, and pointed to the fact that
Mr. Cramer, of the Evening Wisconsin,
had made so much money that he was
obliged to start a bank of his own to
hold it ail. Yes, he said, newspapers
quite frequently make money, but in
stend of hoarding it away they put it
into their business, adding new attrac
tions to their paper. He said he hud
known country newspapers to make as
high as two or three dollars a day, dur
ing harvest when the editor put his
printer in charge of the office while he
took his customary vacation. A drug
gist who was present said he always had
an idea the newspapers made all the
money that was made, except what
was made by the meat market men.
This was intended to wake up a lead
ing meat man who sat in a chair tipped
back against the building. The drug
gist said he had often watched a butcher
when he sold a roast. The butcher
would saw off a roast, and throw it on
the scales and it would weigh eight
pounds, and then he began to trim it.
He would chop out about two pounds of
the backbone with his cleaver, then dis
sect out a pound of ribs, remove the
kidney tallow, and when he has got
done, and spiked it up in a ball with
skewers, it would weight about four
pounds. The druggist said if lie could
have the profits of a meat market for
three months he would pay the na
tional debt and stop so much talk
about it. The gentleman from the
meat market here arose, and was recog
nized by the speaker of the house. He
said he had thought seriously of becom
ing a druggist when he was a young
man, but when he saw that prescrip
tions containing only five cents worth
of drugs were sold to customers for fifty
cents, his contcience would not permit
him, and he had sold meat in order that
he might lead a Christian life and stand
some show after death. He said if the
druggist wanted to go into the business
of selling meat, and undersell the pres
ent dealers, he could probably find a
vacant building somewhere that could
be had for a reasonable rent. The drug
gist said he supposed a man in busi
ness had to live, but he was sorry the
man of meat had such a tender con
science, as he would have starved to
death years ago if he had kept a drug
store, A druggist he said, charged
something for his knowledge, the same
as a lawyer, as it took years to learn
the profession so as not to get strychnine
in the place of asafetida. “A drug
gist,” said he, casting a withering glanci
at the market man, “ must know some
thing. and perhaps it is as well ’hat you
didn’t attempt—”
Friends rushed in and separated them;
hut the thread of pleasant conversation
had been broken, and the pot eh was
soon after deserted. We are convinced
that it is unwise for men to speak of
business matters while engaged insocia
converse. —Miluoukce Sun.
Winnipeg,
A writer in Harper's Magazine give
the following interesting account of
Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, in
British America: Morning light re
vealed to us the metropolis of the
Northwest. We saw a broad main
street bordered with high wooden side
walks, and rows of shops of every shape
and size. Some were rude wooden
shanties; others were fine buildings of
yellow brick. High overall towered
the handsome tower of the Knox church
Several saw and grist mills sent up in
cessant puffs of white steam into the
pure air. The street was lull of bustle
and life. There were wagons of all de
scriptions standing before the stores.
Dong lines of Red river carts were load
ing with freight for the interior. The
sidewalks were filled with a miscellan
eous crowd of people; German peasants,
the women in dark blue gowns and head
kerchiefs, the men marked by their lit
tle flat caps; French half-breeds, with
jaunty buckskin jackets, many colored
scarfs around the waists, and their black
hair shining with oil; Indians, dark,
solemn, gaunt, stalking along in blanket
and moccasins; Scotch and English
people, looking as th y do all the world
over, but here, perhaps, a little quicker
and more energetic. The middle of the
street, though there has been lut a sin
gle night of rain, was a vast expanse of
mud—mud so tenacious that the wheels
of the wagons driving through it were
almost as large as mill wheels; and
when we dared to cross it we came out
on the other side with much difficulty,
and feet of elephantine proportions.
The city of Winnipeg, which eight
years ago was nothing more than a clus
ter of houses about the Hudson Bay
company’s fort, now contains over 7,000
inhabitants. It is the distributing cen
ter for a large region, a place of great
business activity, and so situated in re
lation to the back country and the fa
cilities for transportation that it is some
times called “The Bleeder’s Paradise.”
It is built on a clay bank at the junction
of the Assiniboine with the Red river.
The nature of the soil is such that it is
difficult to find a good foundation for a
house, and many of the larger buildings
have settled and cracked.
On a tree near Swan’s Springs, Cal.,
J. Woods found hanging a costly hunt
ing-case gold watch, a lady’s enameled
watch, and two long gold neck chains.
FARM, HARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
Culture or Onion*.
A correspondent of the Country Gen
tleman writes the following answer to
a question in that journal: Perhaps
the experience of one who has culti
vated onions for ten sears may be of
some benefit to the unitiated. My
method is as follows: If the ground is
so wet thst it would be difficult to
plow it well in the spring, or is in
clined to be lumpy, I should plow it in
the fall and cultivate it thoroughly in
the spring, before applying the manure.
Otherwise I should not do the plowing
until a few days before sowing the seed,
as by so doing all the weed seeds which
may be on the top of the ground are
turned under and cannot get up until
the onions get a start, thereby saving
considerable weeding.
‘a here can be no definite time for sow
ing the seed, as it all depends on the
weather. I generally sow about the
first of May, but considerable later
than that will do. The best crop I ever
raised was sown on the fifteenth day of
May. The rule I follow is to wait until
the season is so far advanced that the
ground is well warmed. As for
manures, if I could get plenty of well
rotted barnyard manure, I would U3e
it in preference to any of the fertilizers,
although it makes nearly double the
weeding. Ten or twelve loads of well
rotted manure, with forty or fifty
bushels of unleached ashes and 400
pounds of land plaster, are sufficient
for an acre each 5 ear. If Ido not have
manure I use 500 or 600 pounds of some
kind of fertilizer, with the above-men
tioned Quantity -of ashes and plaster.
But whether manures or fertilizers are
used, it should be spread on the ground
after it is plowed, and a day or two be
fore the seed is to be sown, and be well
harrowed in. Then spread on the ashes
broadcast. The plaster can b? sowed
on now or a week or two later, but I
prefer the latter method. Use a light
harrow after the ashes are spread; then
the pulverizer, which c.\n be used
with great advantage, and it saves
nearly all the raking, except at the
ends. One man can rake the ground as
fast as one can drill.
It is now ready for drilling. I put the
rows fifteen inches apart, and as straight
as possible, for straight rows cultivate
easier and better then crooked ones.
Four pounds of good seed is plenty for
n.n acre. Be sure that the drill sows
regularly and clearly. On dryish
ground the feed should be cov
ered about an inch deep; on moist
ground one-half or three quarters will
do. As soon as the onions are up
enough to see the rows, I go through
them with a hand cultivator, and do
this, if possible, once a week until they
get too large to work in. At the second
or third cultivating, or sooner if the
ground is foul, I weed them. Avery
useful tool to weed with, where the
ground is hard, can be made out of an
old hoe by cutting off the sides of the
blade until there is a strip an inch and a
half wide left, grinding the sides and
edge sharp, and putting in a handle ten
inches long; but where the ground is
soft and easy to work, I find that the
fingers alone will weed faster than any
thing ehe; an l it they get tender and
sore, rubber finger stalls, which can be
bought at nearly every drug store, are a
very great help. Be sure and ki ep ahead
ot the weeds, for if they once get the
start of you, you will repent on youi
hands and knees many days.
When the tops have nearly all fallen
down and look dead they are fit to pull.
II you have anything to run under the
rows and cut the roots, they can be
raked out very readily, and two men—
one to cut the roots and one to rake —can
go over an acre and a half in a day. It
you have nothing to cut the roots with,
I think the best way is to pull three
rows in together, and when you wish to
take them off the field rake three of these
rows together, when they can be takm
up very fast with a coke fork. The tops
should be cutoff about an inch Irom tbe
bulb. The best thing for this purpose
that I have ever seen is a common pair
of shears with the blades cut off nearly
half way down. All that now remains
to be done is to sell them for a good
price.
Sulphur for Animals.
If taken internally with their food,
sulphur will almost invariably keep all
kinds of animals free from lice. We
have made a practice for years past of
giving a heaping tablespoonful once a
week in the feed of each of our cows,
and the same quantity to about every
ten hens in our flock, and they have
never been troubled with lice in them.
It may be given in the same porportion
as to size when required in the food of
poultry, pigs and sheep. Sulphur is a
mild cathartic when desired for this
purpose,and in small doses seems to have
a general beneficial effect on the ani
mal system, something like salt, though,
of course, not of that nature. — Rural
New Yorker.
Keclnes.
Lemon Cream. —Take a pint ofthick
sweet cream, and put to it the yolks of
two eggs well beaten, four ounces of
fine sugar, and thin rind of one lemon;
boil it up; then stir it till almost cold;
put the juice of a lemon in a dish or
bowl, and pour the cream upon it, stir
ring it till quite cold.
Milk Biscuit. —Two pounds flour,
one-fourth pound of lard or butter, one
teacup of yeast, one teaspoonful of salt,
one pint of milk; make a soft dough and
set at ten o’clock; stir at three and
mold into biscuits, adding more flour if
necessary. Let them rise until nearly
tea time and bake twenty minutes.
Miners delight in picking a “pocket.”
—Cincinnati Commercial.
TIMELY TOPICS.
The Chicago THmes says that a few
weeks ago an engine 'started on the
Lake Shore and Michigan Southern
railroad for the locality of a wreck,
with Superintendent Parsons in the cab,
the distance to be run being six miles;
that the engineer opened the throttle
wide, and the superintendent took out
his stop-watch and timed tho run, and
that the speed was at the ra‘e of eighty
one miles per hour. The en ine—one of
the best on the road —rocked and rolled
about so fearfully that the men were
“almost seasick,’’ and the engineer, one
of the oldest and bravest in the ser
vice, showed a ghastly pale face at the
end of the run.
The Prussian capital has long con
tained a jewel of fabulous value, the
news of whose existence was first made
known by the reports of the last session
of the Polytechnic society. The noble
stone is a sapphire, and is the property
of one of the members of that learned
body. It weighs a little more than six
ounces. The jury of the Polytechnic
society have settled its value at the
frightful sum of 61,000,G00 marks, or
about $16,000,000 ot American money.
It need hardly be said that such a treas
me is not likely to find a purchaser at
such a price. Its present possessor lias
placed his treasure in state custody for
the sake of his h
Dr. Treichler, a German physician,
has lately made some much-noted com
ments on habitual headache among
young people, a trouble which lie avers
is largely on the increase. He is in
clined to attribute it to excessive intel
lectual exertion, often caused by the
fancy of parents for having a great
variety of subjects taught, and more
especially to night work, whieh, he says!
produces in the brain the ame condition
os would be produced in the muscles,
if, after a long day’s march, a mountain
climber were to continue walking far
on into the night, and were to repeat
this day after day. Dr. Treichler's let
ter has elicited from a London physician
a statement that he has sometimes found
the brain to be growing fastw than the
skull whieh contained it. What seemed
like great stupidity was for a time the
result, but in time the skull effected its
enlargement, and the brain was relieved.
One of the dangers most likely to occur
in schools arises irom the fact that the
Mine lessons are necessarily allotted to
ail in a class, and while they entail no
effort of intellect on the part of one, may
be a frightful labor to another. It is the
dull, laborious pupil, we suspect, who
oftentimes is the most injured by school
pressure, and it should be. the study of
the teacher to recognize him or her, and
afford aid and encouragement.
Origin of the Plow.
In a paper on the origin of the plow.
Dr. Taylor states that the first agricul
tural implement sec-ms to have been a
pointed stick four or five feet long, sueh
as many savage tribes still carry for the
purpose of digging roots, knocking down
fruits and unearthing animals. At a
later day the stick was bent and used as a
hoe, the point being hardened by fire,
in the southern part of Sweden large
tracts of land give evidence of early cul
tivation, which is a tributed to a pre
historic people ca’ied by the natives the
“hackers,” who are always associated
with the giants of mytho’ogy, and
rude hoe was a fir pole with a short pro
jecting branch. There came into u-c
afterward a larger instrument of the
same kind, which was not used like the
hoe but dragaed by men or oxen. In
stances of this are to be found in old
Egyptian pictures and bas-reliefs, and it
was probably the primitive idea of the
plow, which is of prehistoric origin, evi
dences being found of its early use among
the Greeks, Egyptians and Chinese. It
had from the earliest times a religious
sanction. The next improvement was a
wooden hook shod with iron; and in the
time of Virgil a wheeled plow was in
use whieh differed but little Irom the
best in Europe a century ago.
Murdering His Uanghtcr.
James Tobin, a boss stevedore, of
Chicago, murdered his daughter in that
city. He went home intoxicated and
turned his family out of the house dur
ing a heavy thunder-storm because his
wife refuse and to go for beer for him and
a friend who was with him. Subse
quently his daughter Mollie, a girl
seventeen years of age, ventured into
the house, and he sent her out with f 5
to buy a valis*, saying that he was
going to pack up his things and leave
his family forever. She got the valise
and returned, but neglected to provide
a key. This enraged Tobin, and h
tore the lock to pieces and ordered
Mollie to return the valise and bring
back the money. She went into an ad
joining room, but he, suspecting that
she was not obeying his orders, fol
lowed, dragging her back by the hair
and throwing her violently upon tie
floor. He then jumped on her breast
with his knee and began pounding her,
she crying: “Oh, father, do not kill
me!” When Tobin stopped maltreat
ing his daughter Mrs. Robinson, who
resides in the house and had been call
ing for help, assisted Mollie into the
next room, but the blood came frothing
to her lips, and she died in a few min
utes. Tobin was arrested, and denied
having killed his daughter, but Mrs.
Robinson and his eight-year-old son re
vealed the story of his brutal act.
Sixteen years ago Mary Mulhaney
hanged herself from a tree at Coshocton,
Ohio, because her lover deserted her,
and now the lover, Henry Moore, has
been killed under the same tree by the
accidental discharge of a gun,
PRICE-8 1.50 PER ANNUM.
NUMBER 2.
Nothings.
Only some withered blossoms,
Crumbling to dry decay;
Only a glove half torn in two,
And idly thrown away;
Only a heart that’s breaking—
That is, if hearts could break;
Only a man adiitt lor lite,
All for a woman’s sr.ke.
Only a lew such tokens
Prized by a love-9ick tool,
Naught but the ashes that strew the ground
When love’s hot flame grows cool.
Not t ; e flrit man by thousands
The dupe of a heartless flirt;
Not the first time that priceless love
Was treated like common dirt.
Only in jest! You know it
Now, though it’s rather late—
Rather too late to turn in your liie,
And seek another Jate.
You’re not a man like thousands,
With a heart that wiil veer and twirl
And feel a glow at the word and glanoe
Ot every flirting girl.
Finished forever, and done;
Wrecked by a treacherous smile;
Following madly a will-o’-the-wist,
Happy, if but for a while.
Only a heart that’s broken—
That is, ii hearts could break,
Only a man adrift for life,
All for a woman’s sake.
Harper's Bazar.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Cats have no fixed political belief.
They arc usually on the fence.
On the island of the Neuse, N. C., is
a cypress tree, in the hollow of which
a horse can be turned around.
The members of a recently elected
Pennsylvania school board are Isaac
L. Eagle, Joel Fox and Samuel G.
Bear.
A small boy who for the first time
noticed a cherry tree in bloom, enthu
siastically directed the attention of his
mother to “ the popcorn tree.”
In Belgium there are 40,000 persons
ion raged in braiding straw hats, and
0) o>o in sewing hats. The yearly income
accruing to these workers is SBOO,OOO.
Six great English brewers were de
feated in the recent elections, including
Sir Arthur Guinness, of Dublin, who
has spent vast sums in restoring ca
thedrals.
A mathematician has calculated that
a Memphis citizen who drinks Wolf
river water annually absorbs four times
his weight in red clay, besides swallow
ing about fifty pounds’weight of the
debris of dead caterpillars.
On a sheep range at Desert Springs,
Nev., the slaughter has been terrible
by wildcats and coyotes. A poisoned
carcass was thrown in the pen, and on
the following morning, within a cir
cumference of 300 yards, the bodies of
fifteen coyotes and ten cats were found.
Jim (sotto voce):
Six daughters of Brigham Young have
been excommunicated from the Mor
mon chureh for charging their father’s
executors and other saints with de
frauding them of $1,000,000 causing the
imprisonment of said executors, and
jeopardizing the liberty of John Taylor,
president of the church.
“ I will propose to her right ow,
Hang me it I’m nfeared—
I do feel catawampna like,
But drat me if I'm skeered.”
Jim (fortissimo):
1 Mariar, wouldn’t you—won’t you—
Will you—say, will you have”—
“ What is it, Jim, speak, why don’t you ?”
Jim (collapsed):
“ Come and see our new call.”
A young bachelor sheriff was called
upon to serve an attachment against a
beautiful young widow; he accordingly
called upon her and said : “ Madam, I
have an attachment for you.” The
widow blushed, and said his attach
ment was reciprocated. “You don’t
understand me; you must proceed to
court.” “ I know it is leap-year, sir,
but I prefer you to do the courting.”
“Mrs. P., this is no time for trifling,
the justice is waiting.” “The justice
is? Why, I prefer a parson.”- New Or
leans Hcayune.
Charcoal,
Charcoal, laid flat while cold on a
burn, causes the pain to abate immedi
ately ; by leaving it on for an hour the
burn seems almost healed when the burn
is superficial. And charcoal is valuable
for many other purposes. Tainted
meat, surrounded with it, is sweetened;
strewn over heaps of decomposing pelts,
or over dead animals, it prevents any
unpleasant odor. Foul water is puri
fied by it. It is a great disinfect ant, and
sweetens offensive air if placed in shal
low trays around apartments. It is so
very porous in its “minute interior,”
it absorbs and condenses gases n ost
rapidly. One cubic inch of fresh char
coal will absorb nearly one hundred
inches of gaseous ammonia. Charcoal
form., an unrivaled poultice for malig-
D.an: wounds and sores, often corroding
away the dead flesh, reducing it to one
quarter in six hours In cases of what
call proud flesh it is invaluable. I
have seen mortification arrested by it.
It g-ves no disag:eeabL odor, co rodes
no niftai, h rts no texture, injures no
color, is a imple and safe sweetener and
disin ectant. A teasp onful of char
coal, in half a glass of water, often ri
lieves a sick hiadache; it absorbs the
gases and relieves the distended
stomach pressing against the nerves,
which extend from the stomach to the
head. Charcoal absorbs a hundred
times its weight of gas or wind in the
stomach or bowels, and in this way it
purifies Ihe breath. It often re ieveji
constipation, pain or heartburn.