Newspaper Page Text
. IttSCHALK \ ...
W. A. tt AK'IHALK,/ *.aitors and Proprietors.
THE TWO SONGS.
W hon loyc n as you Mg, at brightening morn,
W liile high above tiie yellow corn,
i hr aiatl lark shrilled, to her whose eyes
emed homes of radiant ecstacies
I sang. The glory of the time
Kang through the notes and ruled the rhyme
The rapture of the unkissed rose,
\\ hen bod-bound petals first unclose,
Spake from my lips, ail re front those
t\ hose sweetness Shrilled my spirit through,
Api the song’s jubilant music knew
)• >'s inipulse in each soaring strain,
! u h (adenea low, eac h glad refrain.
1 tuniod. Those eyes looked praise, and yet
Some shade of fear or faint regret,
Like a thin cloud o’er sunlit stream,
Hovered a moment and was gone.
Ah! is it that dawn’s daring dream
Each soul must shape alone?
Sweet the cares that guerdon gave
1 or that glad song! can shadows start
Beneath joy’s sim, or passion crave
Yet closer clasp than heart to heart?
The o'.Yht was young, the night-bird’s trill
shook softlier than a far-heard lute
From that gray copse beneath the hill,
And then was mute!
Her head clasped close abov > my heart,
I „ang—for that the words would start
From laden lips—a song as low
As spring’s first streamlet’s timid flow ;
Low, vet as happv a- the tears
Which fall unchecked from shining eyes,
When hope, outlasting sundering years,
Attains its paradise.
Whispers of trees, when storms have fled,
Hear such sweet burden; odors shed
By rain-washed roses through the night
Breathe such sereiuj and sure delight
As this my song. I might not see
Her eyes in that leaf-cumbered place,
But closeer drew her tender face,
And pressed her heart to me.
And through the silence and the dark;
There came a glad ness that the lark
Hath not a song for. Love that lives
Through sorrow such deliverance gives
From fear, its shadow may not start
To chill the clasp of heart to heart.
POPULAR SCIENCE.
Ifals and Their Vouiig-.Some Farts Tot
Generally Known.
The October number of the Popular
Science Monthly contains an article by
Prof. Burt Cf. Wilder entitled “hats and
their young.” Beginning his essay by
remarking that all parts of the world ex
cepting the colder regions are inhabited
by bats; that there are many kinds of
bats; that they often occur in very large
numbers, and that there are very few
persons, young or old, who have not seen
a bat, the writer adds: “ Yet, aside from
professed naturalists, it is equally prob
able that there are still fewer who, from
direct observation, could give any accu
rate description of their appearance, their
habits, their structure of their relations
with the ‘birds of the air’ or the ‘beasts
of the earth,’ to both of which bats bear
more or less resemblance.” Prof. Wilder
thinks that this is not strange, “ for bats
pass the day in caves and deserted build
ings, and fly about in pursuit of prey
only in the twilight. Much less rapid
than that of birds, their flight is so irre
gular as to render it difficult to follow
their course, and in the dusk they are
often mistaken for somewhat eccentric
members of the swallow family.” The
very aspect of bats, we are told, is repul
sive; they often emit an unpleasant odor;
they breed vermin, which they often
leave behind them in houses; they bite
fiercely when they are captured, having
sharp, “almost needle-like” eye-teeth.
Bats have rarely been domesticated, there
being on record only two instances of the
taming of bats. Prof. Wilder c-auglit
one when he was a hoy, and he gives the
following account of his somewhat dis
agreeable pet:
“One of our common bats (probably
cither the ‘little brown hat,’ Vespertilio
mbulatus, or the ‘little red hat,’j flew
into the house one evening and was
caught under a hat. It queaked and
snapped its little jaws so viciously that
all efforts toward closer acquaintance
were posponed until morning.
“ When uncovered the next day it
seemed as fierce as before, but less active
in its movements, probably overpowered
hv the glare of daylight. When touched
its jaws opened wide, the sharp teeth
were exposed, and from its little throat
came the sharp steely clicks so character
istic of our hats. Nor did this fierce
demeanor soften in the least during the
day, and when night approached I was
about to let it go, but the sight of a big
fly on the window suggested an attempt
to feed the captive. Held by the wings
between the points of a pair of forceps,
the fly had no sooner touched the bat’s
nose than it was seized, crunched and
swallowed. The rapidity of its disap
pearance accorded with the width to
which the eater’s jaws were opened to
receive it, and, but for the dismal crack
ling of skin and wings, reminded one of
the sudden engulfment of beetles by a
hungry young robbin.
“ A second fiy went the same road.
The third was more deliberately mastic
ated, and I ventured to pat the de
vourer’s head. Instantly all was changed.
The jaws gaped as if they would separ
ate, the crushed fly dropped from the
tongue, and the well-known clicks pro
claimed a hatered and defiance which
hunger could not subdue nor food ap
pease. So at least it seemed, and I
think any but a boy naturalist would
have yielded to the temptation to fling
the spiteful creature out of the window.
Perhaps, too, a certain obstinacy made
me unwilling to so easily relinquish the
newly-formed hope of domesticating a
bat. At any rate, another fly presented,
and, like the former, dropped the mo
ment m v fingers touched the head of the
bat. With a third I waited until the
bat seemed to be actually swallowing,
and unable to either discontinue that pro
cess or open its mouth to any extent.
“ Its rage and pexplexitv were comical
to behold, and, when the flv was really
down, it seemed to almost burst with the
effort to express its indignation. But
this did not prevent it from falling into
the same trap again; and, to make a long
'lory short, it finally learned by expe
rience that while chewing and swallow
ing were more or less interrupted by
snapping at me, both operations were
quite compatible with my gentle stroking
of its head. And even a bat has brains
enough to see the foolishness of loosing a
dinner in order to resent an unsolicited
kindness.
“In a few days the bat would take
flies from my fingers; although, either
from eagerness or because blinded by the
light, it too often nipped me sharply in
its efforts to seize the victim.
“Its vorasity was almost incredible.
For several weeks it devoured at least
fifty house-flies in a day (it was vacation,
and my playmates had to assist me), and
°nce disposed of eighty between day
break and sunset.
‘ This bat i kept for more than two
months. It would shuffle across the
table when I entered the room, and lift
up its head for the expected fly. When
traveling it was carried in my breast
pocket.
In the fall it died, either from over
eating or lack of exercise, for I dared not
let it out of doors, and it was so apt to
injure itself in the rooms that I seldom
allowed it to fly.
“I should add that it drank frequently
and greedily from the tip of a camel’s
hair pencil.
“It must he admitted,” the writer
says, “that most hats are ‘uncanny’in
respect and unfriendly in disposition
while the legends of blood-thirsty vam
oircs have only too much foundation in
fact. But it is only fair to them (the
>at family ) to admit that the number of
species which thus injure men and the
larger animals is very small; and that
while all of our own bats, and most of
those ot other lands, are fierce devourers
of insects, and use their sharp teeth for
defense against their captors, there are
many kinds, especially the larger (Bous
settes, etc.), which live almost wholly
upon fruits, and are moreover, quite
good eating themselves. So there should
be made a distinction between the ven
omous and the harmless serpents and the
more and the less poisonous spiders.
Perhaps one element of distrust of
the bat family arises from their appar
ent nonconformity to either of the com
mon animal types. The bat seems to be
either a bird with hair and teeth, bring
ing forth its young alive, or a mammal
with wings and the general aspect of a
bird. Add to these exceptional features
that their attitude, when at rest, is al
ways head downward, and that their legs
are so turned outward as to bring the
knees behind instead of in front, and we
may almost pardon the common dislike
of the whole family of hats.
“Me may as well state at once that a
bat is really a mammal —that is, it
agrees with moles, rats, sheep, horses,
eats, monkeys and men in bringing forth
its young alive, and nursing them by
milk; in having red blood-corpuscles,
which contain no nucleus; in being
clothed with hair, and in possessing a
corpus callosum— that is, a band of fibres
connecting the two cerebral hemispheres.
“There are other anatomical features
which link the bats closely with the
moles and shrews and hedge-hogs. In
deed, the bat might he described a flying
mole, or the mole as a burrowing hat.
“Twenty years ago oik; of these phrases
might have been as acceptable as the
other ; for they would have implied only
an ideal connection between the forms.
But now, when the idea of an actual evo
lution or derivation of widely different
forms from one another, or from common
stocks, is rapidly becoming the funda
mental postulate of all biological re
search, avc are hound to inquire whether
one mode of expression is not much more
likelv to he true than the other.”
HUMAN SACRIFICES IN AFRICA.
A Custom ihat Isas Long Prcvailert suit!
Resists all Efforts to Abolish it.
A correspondent of the London Times
gives the follotving vivid description of
the scenes which attend the death of a
“ Caboceer,” or man ©f rank, in Ashan
tee:
Well, immediately after demise, the
body of a Caboceer is washed, anointed
with SAA’eet oils and grease, and sprinkled
Avith gold dust. The oils and grease
cause the gold dust to stick to the
corpse, Avhich, being black, throws off
the bright color of the gold to perfec
tion. The heard is trimmed into knots,
and upon each knot are tied small heads
of glass and thin particles of gold. The
Ashantees, you perceive, are as dainty
in the decoration of the beards of their
dead as the Assyrian dandies A\ r ere of
their own Avhen living. In cloth of
costly silk-embroidered damask, or in
velvet or in other rich garments, the
body is dressed and ornamented Avith
armlets and necklaces of gold and silver.
Very often pure lumps or unwrought
nuggets of gold, bored through and
through, are strung upon a piece of
hempen string and tAvisted around the
forearms in the form of bracelets. Thus
gayly bedizened and perfumed and
cleansed, the body is placed upon a chair
in a sitting attitude or is shown recum
bent upon a bed trimmed Avith gaudy
-drapery. When this combined rite of
purification and garniture has been com
pleted the relations and friends assemble
and begin to dance and sing. While
the relations and friends are making
merry a fetishman or priest is led sloAvly
into the midest of the festive throng,
and the female slaves of the dead Cabo
ceer are brought before him. After the
utterance of various incantations he pre
tends that the fetish has denoted, by
means of his mediation, a certain slave
for election to folloAV her master to the
next Avorld; but I need not he at much
to suggest to you that the members of
the family always decide beforehand
among themselves Avhich unfortunate
Avretch shall accompany the deceased
chief.
Being chosen, and by the choice con
demned to die, the slave is stripped
naked. Around her neck a wisp of hay
is wound, and her arms are rudely pin
ioned with a rope of straw. She is now
roughly dragged a second time to the
presence of the fetishman, who recom
mends her, in a speech full of blasp
hemous rhodomontades and rhetorical
parade, to serve her master dutifully
through the mazes of the unknown
sphere to which he has been summoned
on a journey. During the delivery of
the portentous exhortation he is busily
employed in daubing a white-colored
earth over the face of the weeping slave ;
and, when the admonitory harangue lias
been exhausted, he strikes her severely
with his open palm upon either cheek.
In benighted zeal the company snatch
up the sacerdotal cue’ They strive to
rival one another in repeating the as
sault with the harshest violence, and in
dealing the keenest pain on her nude
and trembling person.
Having been removed by dint of cuffs
or manual force from the sight of the
fetishman the slave is hurried to a wood
en box, into which the carcase of the
Caboceer will eventually be squeezed.
Along the lid of the box the slave is
stretched upon her stomach, and her
feet and her head are grasped by two
executioners, so that her struggles may
he subject t< control. A friend of the
dead Caboceer approaches the prost rate
creature and slashes her with a sword
just below the right shoulder-blade
CARTEHSVILLE, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 25. 1875.
Catching the blood which Aoaa’s from the
wound, he smears the box. When a
sufficiency of blood has been drawn for
the purpose, she is lifted from the lid
and is reviled, struck and covered Avith
spittle by the bystanders, All the while
she utters the loudest and most grie\ T ous
lamentations; and the louder and more
grievous they a.re, the more acceptable
do the torturers deem the sacrificed
gratuity to the dead Caboceer. She is
then driven to the spot where she is to
Ik 1 slain. M hen the head has been cut
off the heart is plucked out through, an
opening in the hack. An executioner
receives the head with yells and frantic
signs of joy, and runs Avith it through
the town. Savagely and furiously he
tosses it to the ground and kicks it* like
a hall before him, snatches it up in his
flight, spits on it, flings it into the air,
catches it in its descent, or, permitting it
to drop heavily, kicks it again and
again. The body is never buried, hut it
is spurned aside to he eaten by Avild
beasts or vultures.
A Reverie of the Pacific.
The folloAving reverie on vieAving the
Pacific Ocean is taken from Miss Wepp
ner’s charming hook of travel, “The
Northern Star and Southern Cross,” and
is scarcely equaled in literature for
elegance of diction and impressiveness of
thought. As one reads it, the vast mys
tic realm opens before him, and the
majesty and peace of eternity symbolized
by the Pacific Ocean,spread out in broad
and limitless expanse before his inner
vision, subduing and soothing his spirit by
the overpoAvering excellencies and match
less beauties the Infinite lias provided:
“ Our path the Pacific Avas a very soli
tary one; for twenty-four days avc
sighted neither steamer nor sailing ves
sel. We passed the Sandwich Islands at
a distance of 500 miles to the south. On
our third day avc lost a Chinaman, avlio,
in opium delirium, had jumped over
board. He Avas long searched for, hut
not picked, up; it is supposed that he
Avas crushed by the paddle-wheels. On
fine days ‘Afat’ used to make one com
fortable on deck in an easy arm-chair,
and I indulged in my persistent re\-erics.
The mystery of life is apt to strike one
very forcibly on the solitary Pacific
Ocean, and should any one be desirous
of getting at the real depth and certitude
of the accepted philosophic data of the
present day, I can recommend him no
better school than twenty-four days
across this ocean. He will feel very
small and he inclined to come to the con
clusion that he knoAvs very little about
anything, and least of aT about himself.
“The shining firmament, rocking itself
in the bosom of the deep, the glorious
orb of the day taming the impetuous
Neptune Avith his ardent rays, the thou
sand golden beams Avith which the atmos
phere is strianed; the dazzling Avhite and
foaming ocean unknown and awe-inspir
ing in its unfathomable depths.
Thinker, let thy mind Avander to the
heavens, to the innumerable worlds,
Avhich gem-like, occupy tlie infinity of
space ; look at the roaring seas, and Avhat
spheres of thought are opened out to
thee ! Search and fathom as thou may
est, plunge thy mind in the deepest
depths of infinity and then come hack
and tell me what thou hast found; tell
me what thou art and Avho I am!
“ Solve tlie riddle of thy existence;
explain to me the mysteries of the heav
ens, the AA'orlds and the seas! Tell me
Avhat life is, and death, and eternity !
“ Thou returnest from thy dreamy
realms of thought, thou mighty thinker,
and tellest me nothing! Poor, helpless
philosopher, Avliere is thy genius ? Thou
knoAvest so much, and yet so little—less
than nothing, a thousand nothings !
“ Try again, thou great and self-suffi
cient reasoner; rack thy brain once more.
Take tlie mystery of thy life along with
thee ? Death Avill come to thy aid; he
solves the riddle—only he.
“ As for me, I forbear to wander into
the dark, impenetrable realms of specu
lative thought, and to expose myself to
useless torture. I seek to spy out nothing
— to fathom nothing. I av i 11 be a philos
opher in my own way ; I Avill he happy.
Such a glorious heaven above, the Avhole
creation full of wonders! Let Avhat is
noAV mystery he mystery ; they all will
he revealed to me in God’s own time.
Then I shall knoAv who I am, and why
now I am here ; and I shall find what the
greatest thinkers of the earth have ever
been in search of, but have never found,
and never Avill ! Satisfied Avitli this
beautiful Avorld, and with my faith in
God, and the love for duty in my heart,
I am the happiest of mortals, am happy
everywhere.
“ They heave and toss again, the Avild
billows of the ocean, until sea and clouds
and sky lovingly embrace each other.
And the sun, Avhile taming Neptune, has
lulled him to sleep. He shines deeper
and still deeper into the aAvful abyss, as
if he AA'ould disclose to my eyes its hidden
treasures! I follow the golden orb, and
amongst innumerable Avonders and ter
rors Ave search a mournful and a sacred
spot. Here slumber the millions of souls
that the sea in its fury has SAvalloAved in
its bosom.
“ Shine on, fair sun, and smile for once
upon the dead. Send a ray of light into
the mansions of the departed.
“ Sleep peacefully yet a little Avhile in
your ocean beds, my dear brothers and
sisters, until the creator awakes you.”
Pretty Speeches.
To be able readily, and without pre
meditation, to say the right thing is an
enviable gift still, and may be made a
wonderful instrument of conciliation
and pacification. The worst of it is that
persons possessing the power of repartee
are apt to make a hostile rather than an
amicable use of it; and, indeed, most of
us covet it rather as a whip to sting with
than a feather to tickle. Caustic
speeches are sure to draw, and the most
amiable people, who would not them
selves hurt their friends’ feelings on any
account, chuckle over them .as much as
others. Therefore they are continually
chronicled, but pretty speeches lack the
same pungency, and are passed by as in
sipid; yet I think there is a line savor
about one or two that I remember—that
said by George the fourth to the officer
of marines, for example. It may be fa
miliar to you, but will really bear repe
tition. There was an empty bottle on the
table, and the king told the servant to
“take away that marine.” A guest sit
ting next to the king whispered in his
ear that an officer present belonged to
that branch of the service. George the
fourth ascertained his name, and then,
addressing him aloud, asked if he knetv
why an empty bottle Avas called a ma
rine. “No, your majesty,” replied the
officer. “Because,” said the king, “it
has done its duty, and is ready to do it
again.” Which was a neat way of get
ting out of a rather awkward phrase as
one can avcll imagine. Ladies, however,
are the fair and proper recipients of
pretty speeches, and the man avlio gets
them is a sort of poacher. The Due de
Nivernois made an ingenious one to
Madame du Barri. who avus endeavoring
to persuade him to withdraw his opposi
tion to some measure she had set her
heart on. “It is no use, Monsieur le
Due,” she said, “you are only injuring
vour influence, for the king has made up
his mind, and I have nnself heard him
sav that he Avill never change.” “Ah,
madame, he avus looking at you,” replied
the duke. Could any hut a Frenchman
have ever conveyed determined resistance
in so polite a farm? There Avas an inge
nious amount of devotion implied in the
remark of a loA'e-sick millionaire, Avhen
the object of liisaffectionsbecam eecstatic
over the beauty ot the evening star.
“Oh, do not, do not praise it like that!”
he cried, “I cannot get it for you.” It is
no Avonder that Tom Moore was ever
such a general favorite, if he often said
such charming little things as he Avrote.
I think the very prettiest, quaintest quip
ever penned is in one of liis love-songs.
The lover can not deny that he has paid
to others homage before he suav the pre
sent object of his affections; in fact, he
learned lip-service very early.
“That lesson of sweet and enraptured lore
I have never forgot, I’ll allow:
I h:iA'e had by rote very often before,
But neA’cr by heart until now.”
Irishmen generally do manage to say
prettier things than others can. They
have a certain confidence or assurance
Avhich enables them to blurt out what
ever comes uppermost in his mind; that
is Avhy they make hulls. A man who is
ahvays shooting must miss sometimes.
The more cautious Englishman or Scotch
man escapes the blunders, but scores
fewer hits, and does not often marry an
heiress, I believe.— Cassell’s Magazine.
An Old French Relic,
While demolishing an old house at
Montematre, and clearing the site for
the church of the Sacred Heart, the
workmen made an interesting discovery;
they found that the Avainseotiug of one
of the rooms Avas composed of Avood
elegantly carved and gilded. The vari
ous pieces Avhen put together shoAved
that it Avas an old royal coach whose
panels had been used “to stop a hole to
keep the wind away.” There is no know
ing lioav this relic of the ancient-regime
came to be used for building purpose;
the probability is that some Brutus or
Aristides of the revolution of ’93 seized
the royal equipage, and contemptuously
used the materials Avherewith to con
struct a dwelling. It may have been the
coach into Avhich Louis XVI. told Lord
Star to step; Mdme. de Pompadour may
have ridden in it; it may have served at
the Avedding of Marie Antonette, or
have conveyed Louis XVI. to the scaf
fold. The panels are said to prove that
the coach Avas very old, hut it could not
Avell have been built before the fifteenth
century; for in 1404 the only suspended
coach which existed belonged to Queen
Isabella; and under Francis I there Avcre
only three, one of Avhich belonged to the
Queen, another to Diana, of Poicters,
and the third to Jean de Laval. Ac
cording to Delaure, there Avere a great
many coaches in Paris in 1563, and the
parliament petitioned the king to pro
hibit them, as they took up the Avhole
street and splashed ladies and gentlemen
riding to court. ToAvard the end of the
reign of Henry IV. Bassompierre had a
carriage built Avith doors and Avindows.—
Paris Letter to Pall Mall Gazette.
Lime Water for Burns.—A corre
spondent Avrites that the readiest and
most useful remedy for scalds and burns
is an embrocation of lime water and
linseed oil. These simple agents com
bined form a thick, cream-like substance,
which effectually excludes the air from
the injured parts and allays the inflam
matioj almost instantly. He mentions
a case Avhere a child fell hackAvard into a
bath-tub of boiling Avater, and Avas nearly
flayed from her neck to below her hips.
Her agonies Avere indescribable; but her
clothing being gently removed, and the
lime and oil preparation thickly spread
over the injured surface, she Avas sound
asleep in five minutes. Subsequently,
the parts Avere carefully Avashcd Avith
Avarm milk and Avater three times a day,
the oil dressing renewed, and the little
patient rapidly recovered. Though all
the scalded skin came off, she did not
have a scar. This remedy leaA r es no hard
coat to dry on the sores, but softens the
parts, and aids nature to repair the in
jury in the readiest and most expeditious
manner. This mixture may be pro
cured in the drug stores; but if not
thus accessible, slack a lump of quick
lime in Avater, and as soon as the Avater
is clear, mix it Avith the oil and shake it
well.. If the case is urgent, use boiling
water over the lime, and it Avill become
clear in five minutes. The preparation
may be kept ready bottled in the house,
and it will he as good six months old as
Avhen first made.— American Farm Jour
nal.
—A little Idaho three-year-old fell
into a well, where tlie water was only six
inches deep, and remained there six hours
belore he was discovered. When he was
finally rescued his pent-up wrath knew
no bounds. There was no crying about
it, but such a volley of invt 'tiv-p* fell
upon the heads of neglectful parents as
never before fell from childish lip-. Here
is a sample: “ You fink I kan tay in a
well, wifout nuffin to eat, like a f’og.
’F I wasn’t no better ladder ’n muuder ’n
’ou I’d do wifout children ! ”
—At a city market the other day, a
pale-faced, solemn man took off his hat,
smoothed back his hair, and said: “My
friends, we know not how soon we may
fall by the wayside. We stand here to
day—next week we may sleep with the
dead. I feel that I have only a few more
days to stay, and I wish someone would
lend me fifteen cents so that I can get a
dish of baked beans.” The crowd at
once moved away.
One of the most important, but one of
the most difficult things for a powerful
mind, is to l>e its own master. A pond
may lay quiet in a plain, but a lake wants
mountains to compass and hold it in.
HOW TO GOVERN OUR CITIES.
T3io Awful Rnrdrn of I>obt they have
I*sled l’p— The Recent Enormous Increase.
From tlie Chicago Tribune.
Mr. William M. Grosvenor of St.
Louis has been making a recent investi
gation into the municipal indebtedness
of this country. His search demon
strates that Mr. Blaine has rather under
stated than overstated the”' libel debts of
of the country in the exhibit which he
made about a year ago, and which at
tracted so much attention at the time.
Mr. Blaine estimated the aggregate
municipal indebtedness, near the close
of last year, at $570,000,000. This
showed an enormous increase Avith in four
years, since the census of 1870 seated the
municipal debts (exclusive of state and
country) to he $328,244,520. But later
investigations, covering a period of five
years, shoAV that Mr. Blaine’s estimate
Avas a loav one. A recent number of the
Financial Chronicle gave a list of city
securities, Avhich showed that the bonds
of only thirty-tAVO cities in the country
(exclusive of their floating indebtedness)
amount $525,632,728, or nearly as much
as Mr. Blaine’s estimate of the gross
municipal indebtedness. But the last
annual reports of Massachusetts show
that the cities in that state alone, be
sides those included t in the thirty-two
Cities cited above, oAvn $36,914,634. In
Ohio, the reports slioav that the cities of
that state, outside of the cities included
in the Financial Chronicle’s statement,
oaa'c $8,909,714. Thus the bonded debt
of the thirty-two cities, and the cities of
only tAvo states among all those not in
cluded in that list, amounts to $571,457,-
076, or a larger sum than Mr. Blaine
estimated for the Avhole country. A
comparison of the census statement shows
that these cities OAved less than tAvo
thirds of the total municipal’indebted
ness of that time. Assuming that this
ratio remains the same, the present
showing Avould make the aggregate
municipal indebtedness $856,185,614.
This is a higher rate than even Mr.
Grosvenor is Avilling to accept. He
therefore makes a propper allowance for
a smaller ratio of increase in the cities
Avhere statements are not made. The in
crease in the thirty-tAvo cities betAveen
1870 and 1875 Avas 160 per cent. The
increase of the Massachusetts cities not
included in the list of thirty-two is 130
per cent. The increase of the Ohio cities
has been 290 per cent. The average in
crease in the two states has been more
than 160 per cent. It is entirely within
hounds to assume that the increase in
the other cities of the country lias been
70 per cent, or less than half of the
average increase in the states of Massa
chusetts and Ohio. Upon this basis, the
aggregate municipal indebtedness of the
country at this time amounts to $758,-
000,000, or nearly $200,000,000 more that
Mr. Blaine estimated.
Ncav York furnished a proof that the
estimated increase of 70 per cent, is en
tirely reasonable. From a statement
furnished recently by governor Tilden, it
appears that the municipal debts of that
state outside of New York city, Brook
lyn, and Albany, have increased 119 per
cent, in less than two years. It should
be stated, however, that the thirty-two
cities Avhich have a total bonded indebt
edness of $525,632,728 have sinking funds
that amount to $62,413,953. Deducting
this, the net indebtedness in these cities,
and those of Ncav York, Massachusetts,
and Ohio not included in that list, is
$551,684,533. Add to this the debt of
the other cities in the country, upon the
estimated increase of 70 per cent, since
1870, and the net municipal indebtedness
of the country, after deducting resources,
is still $706,672,407.
In an article Avhich avc printed a few
Aveeks ago, Ave dreAv a comparison between
the municipal indebtedness of this coun
try and that of Great Britain. This
comparison may noAv be extended still
further. The average municipal indebt
edness of tAventy English cities smaller
than London is about S3O per capita.
But the minor American cities, Avith
about the same population as these tAventy
English cities, OAve about $92 per capita.
The contrast is presented in still another
form. The report of the local govern
ment board in Great Britain slioaa's that,
deducting the British national debt,
there is a total local indebtedness of
$360,000,000, or about sll per capita.
Take the same local indebtedness in this
country, including e\ T erything except the
national debt, and Ave have:
State debts $382,970,617
County debts 180,000,000
Municipal debts 769,000,000
Total $1,331,970,517
This is a local indebtedness of about
S3O per capita for all the people in this
country, or about three times as great as
the local indebtedness per capita in Great
Britain. The strain in this country is
still more notable when we count the in
terest paid. The interest on the local in
debtedness probably averages 7 percent.,
which would make it $93,000,000 annu
ally, while the interest on the British
local indebtedness does not exceed $15,-
000,000 a year; so that, while the interest
on our national indebtedness is more
than $20,000,000 less than Great Britain
pays on its national debt, the total in
terest we pay every year on all debts is
from $40,000,000 to $50,000,000 more
than Great Britain pays on its total in
debtedness.
The statement of local indebtedness does
not fully set forth the full measure of
recklessness and extravagance that char
acterize our municipal governments; for,
notwithstanding the startling increase of
local indebtedness, taxation has likewise
increased at a frightful rate. A state
ment of fifteen cities, (New York, Phila
delphia, Boston, Brooklyn, St. Louis,
Chicago, Cincinnati, Jersey City, Louis
ville, Newark, Cleveland, San Francisco,
Providence, Albany Milwaukee) shows
that the taxable valuation of property
has increased nearly $1,000,000,000in the
last five years, and the tax levy in those
cities, which was $64,000,000 in 1869-70,
was $97,500,000 in 1874—’5. It only re
mains to be stated, that in not one of
those cities was the debt reduced within
the time mentioned, so that the increase
of taxation was devoted, aside from the
payment of interest on the bonded debt,
to the payment of current expenses and
local improvements. In 1870, the whole
sum raised by state, county and munici
pal taxes was about $280,000,000, and the
most careful estimate now places the rev
enue exacted from' the same sources at
$363,000,000 annually. This is over and
above the increase of debt. Deducting
the state taxes, the country and munici
pal governments raise $295,000,000 a
year, and have added $430,000,060 to
their indebtedness Avithin five years. Ac
cording to this, our local government
really costs, in taxes and increased debt,
$380,000,000 annually, or more than the
entire annual revenue of Great Britain
for all purposes, which is $376,000,000.
We commend this exhibit to the earn
est consideration of our readers, as pre
senting the most serious problem ol pop
ular government.
CALIFORNIA CUSTOMS.
How a Tuttletown Man Got a Seal in a
Coach.
The stage coach from Milton Avas about
to leave Tuttletown after changing horses.
Every seat, both inside and out, was full,
xccpt one, Avhich Avas occupied by a
tourist wrapped in his supercilious dig
nity and a heavy linen duster. A resi
dent of TuttletoAvn, wishing to ride to
Sonora, approached the stage and in
quired for a seat. “ All full inside,”
growled the tourist, spreading himself to
the full extent of his dignity and duster.
“ But you are occupying tAvo seats,”
argued the man from Jackass Hill.
“ I ain’t going to be croAvded; I pay
for my comfort and intend to keep it.”
“ Did you pay for tAvo seats?”
“ I’ve only secured one seat, but there
is no room for another in this coach, sir,”
and the tourist settled himself back,
Avhile the other passengers grunted their
disgust in tones not particularly vocifer
ous but exceedingly deep.
“ You are not acting as a gentleman
should, sir, nor exactly in accordance
Avith the etiquette of our rude California
society,” calmly replied the man on the
outside, smiling in spiteof his annoyance
at the dog-in-the-manger style of this
boor.
“ I don’t hold myself accountable to
the society of California. I pay my way
and ask odds of nobody, and your in
ference that I am not a gentleman might
he termed where I came from an indica
tion that you Avisli to fight.”
“We don’t fight in this country,”
calmly replied the man from Tuttle
town.
“ You don’t. Then I must have been
misinformed. Pray, Avhat do you do
Avhen a man insults you ?” and a sort of
triumph gleamed in the eye of the
stranger.
“ Do, why Ave shoot him on the spot
and that is the end of it. We don’t
waste time after avc start in. By the
way, I think I can squeeze in alongside
of you there, can’t I?”
“Don’t knoAv but you can,” and a full
half seat appeared beside the dignified
fool, as if by magic.
The Tuttletown citizen rode \'ery com
fortably from that lnimlet to Sonora, and
heard no more about fighting from the
tourist, although remarks in regard to
“ dead shots ” and the rapidity Avith
which insults are avenged in the Sierras
formed the staple of conversation among
the other passengers until they reached
the city hotel.
—A boy thus describes his misdeeds
and their punishments: My sister Em
has got a feller avlio has been coming to
see her e\ r ery night for some time. Night
before last, just to have a little fun, I
Avent into the parlor and era av led under
the sofa on the sly and waited until he
got settled, and just as he was asking her
—if she was Avilling—to become his dear
partner for life, and trust to his strong
right arm for support and protection, I
gave three red-hot Indian Avar-Avhoops
and fired off an old horsey-pistol that I
had borrowed of Sam Johnson, and, my
gracious, lioav that felloAV jumped up and
scooted for the door! He never stopped
to get his hat, hut tumbled head over
heels doAvn the door-steps. As for Em,
she just squatted right clown on the floor
and screeched like blue blazes till dad
and mother came running it Avith nothing
on but their night-clothes and Avanted to
know what the matter Avas. But Em
only yelled the louder, and kept pointing
under the sofa till dad got down on his
knees and suav me there, and pulled me
out by my hind leg. When he got me out
to the wood-shed he wrapped me over
his knee and Avent at me with an old
trunk strap, and I’ve not got over it
nicely vet.
The Drama in the Olden Time.
About twenty nobles (thirty-five dol
lars) seem to have been the price of a
copyright of a play. The printed play
was sold for sixpence, and the usual pres
ent of a patron for a dedication was ten
dollars. Dramatic poets had free ad
mission to the theaters. Every play had
to be licensed by the master of the revels
previous to it being performed. It was
usual to carry “ table-books” to the the
ater, to note down the passages which
were made matter of censure or applause.
This may account for some multilated
copies of Shakspeare’s works, which are
still extant. The custom of “ damning ”
a play on its first performance is at least
as ancient as that great author. No less
than three plays of Ben Johnson suffered
that fate. Before the performance com
menced, and between the acts, the au
dience amused themselves in various
ways, reading, playing at cards, drinking
ale and smoking tobacco. Refreshments
were supplied by attendants, who cried
the commodities with as much noise as
our modern tradesfolk. In 1633 women
smoked tobacco in the theater as well as
men. Rich spectators were allowed to
sit on the stage. Here the fastidious
critic was usually to be met with ; the
wit, ambitious of distinction; and the
gallant, studious his person
and fine clothes. Seated, or reclining on
the rushes of the floor, regaled
themselves with pipes and tobacco, pro
vided by their pages. The ease of their
situation, or their impertinence, excited
the disgust of the poorer class in the pit,
who frequentiy hooted, hissed, and threw
dirt on the stage coxcombs; but the gal
lants displayed their “high breeding” by
an utter disregard of their behavior.
The audience, too, often vented their
ill-nature on the players.
In city houses one cannot be too care
ful to stop the drains of the wash-basins
and close the doors of wash-closets during
the night, for many a fever is generated
from the drain-pipe of a wash-basin. In
country houses care should lx? taken to
have no foul water standing in bed-rooms,
as it soon gains the quality of umfliole
someness.
VOL. 16--NO. 44
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
—Why He Sighed.
I do not mourn, sweet wife of mine,
Because those ruby lips of thine—
Shat marble brow—
Were kissed by one who might have been,
llad I not chanced to step between,
Thy husband now.
I do not grieve l>eenuse thy heart.
Ere Cupid touched it with my dart,
For him would beat;
Nor that the hand which owns my ring
Once more his gift, a ‘‘Mizpah” thing—
It was but meet.
I sigh not that his arms were placed
Some score of times around your waist.
So sweet anti slim.
Ah no, my love! the woe you see
Is mine because vou wedded me
Instead of him.
Thoughtfulness for others, generos
ity. modesty, and sulf-respect tire the
qualities which make a real gentleman or
lady, as distinguished from the veneered
article which commonly gives by that
name.
A little while the roses bloom.
A little while the soft winds blow,
A little while the baby laughed.
A little while—from bud to snow.
But after all the rose is sweet.
And after all the winds have blown
And after all the bahy blessed,
And after all it is our own.
If in our thought the rose remains,
And winds art* sweet in memory,
Why should not then the l>aby gone
Forever Ik' a belie to me?
—October Atlantic.
It is true that we are continually in
spired, and that we do not lead a gracious
life, except so far as we act under tie's
interior inspiration. But how few feel
it! how few are they who do not annihi
late-it by their voluntary destructions or
by their resistance!
He who has once believed that life
has an aim and a meaning, and who has
given up that belief for the conviction
that life is simply a misfortune without
aim or meaning, has made but a sorry
exchange, even though he may have the
gratification of boasting that he is at one
with the great thinkers of his age.
When the last rose of summer,
Is failed and gone,
And the blue bottle hummer
Lies dead as a stone;
When the mudbugs and stingers
Take umbrage and go;
Oh, tell us, why lingers
This wild mus qui to?
There is a young woman of Lynn
Grown up so excessively thin.
When she wears her pull-back
She seems all flesh to lack,
And her bonnet seems stuck on a pin.
On the walk a hat did lie
And a gallant chap sailed by,
And he cut a lively swell—
He was a clerk to a hotel;
And he gave that hat a kick,
And he came across a brick—
Now upon a crutch he goes,
Minus half a pound of toes.
They are my friends,
Who are most mine,
And I most theirs
When common cares
Give room to thoughts poetic and divine,
And in a psalm of love all nature bends.
Mrs. Dobbs, of Providence, says she
made her lazv dead-and-alive husband
move to a lively measure for once in his
life. She placed a still* hair-brush in a
shaded spot in the bed-room, so that he
stepped on it with his bare foot.
Song of the festive Granger, heard in
the corn field:
Fodder, ile-.r fodder, come home with me now.
Brave Col. Nash seorned brandy
smash, and good old gin was all two thin;
but the tempting bait of a whisky
straight revived his soul with the flow
ing bowl. Alas for man, whert corn-juice
ran ! Then comes the dregs, and tangled
legs, and nodding posts, and grinning
ghosts, ghosts dressed in blue, “ I came
for you”—and the pleasant “ smile” ends
in durance vile.
Warren Hastings’ elephant, which
is a hundred years old, is being fed up
to be ridden by the Prince of Wales when
he visits Lucknow, India. This makes the
elephant swing his trnnk in the air and
wag his valise, as he did in childhood’s
happy hours.
Napoleon’s Willow.
Ex-president Johnson, during his life,
received a twig taken from the willow
which bends over the grave of Napoleon
Bonaparte, on St. Helena, which he
planted in the garden of his late resi
dence, and which has now grown to a
stately tree. A twig from this tree will
be planted over the grave of Mr. John
son, on Johnson’s Hill.
A quarter of a century ago one fre
quently heard a grand song which had
been written with Napoleon and that St.
Helena willow as the text. Like hun
hreds of others, with a hundred times
more merit, it has been nearly forgotten.
We will quote some of the verses from
memory:
On the lone barren Isle, where the loud
roaring billow
Assails the stem rock and the fierce temp
est raves,
The hero lies still, and the dew-dropping
willow,
Like a fond weeping mourner, leans over his
grave.
Though tempests may rave,
And the hoarse cannon rattle,
lie heeds not, he hears not,
He’s free from all pain,
He sleeps his last sleep,
He has fought his last battle,
No sound can awake him
To glory again.
Oh, shade of the mighty—where now arc thy
legions,
That rushed but to conquer when thou
led’st them on ?
Alas! they have perished in far distant re
gions,
And all save the fame of their triumph is
gone.
Though tempests may rave, etc.
Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind
thee,
But, like thine own eagle that soared to the
sun,
Thy soul springs from bondage, and :hus
leaves behind thee
A name which, before thee, no mortal had
won.
Though tempests may rave, etc.
—Two persons were once disputing so
loudly on the subject of religion that
they awoke a big dog, which had Wen
sleeping on the hearth before them, and
he forthwith barked most furiously. An
old divine present, who had been quietly
sipping his tea while the disputants were
talking, gave the dog a kick, and ex
claimed : “ Hold your tongue, you silly
brute ! You know no more about it than
they do!”
Butter will remove tar spots. Snip
aud water will afterwards take out. the
grease stains.