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EASTMAN TIMES. A Real Live Country lVyj/T. 1 u'.,ii*hed ever Wedmulay j.;o : i,y ■ S. BUIITON, Terms < r y ■ • n <m . One coriv, one year.. * One ooiy, i ,x. me t*:; , . :j Ten coplrj, In clul-s cne ■ • , t ’ Slurlo copies..... r subscriptions 1 :• :tlv.xtk-*- \o name entered upon ine i. t ine i obtfcnntiou paid. _ VIOLETS IN AUTUMN. lIY HOWABD GLYNDON. I knew I Rhonld find the daisy With her forehead ho brave and white, For the pun is her lover, to comfort her And to keep her in beauty bright. And Hite folds the last T>f her Wieses Tu the golden well of-lier cup; Then fearless sleeps in thi frosty fields, Till the morning wakes her up. And the purple pink of the mountain Uroppeth her velvet train, Where the stricken glory of forest leaves Is shed in a scarlet rain ; And nods to the late red ■clover. And the stoical immortelle, And the timid ltildn of the dewberry Hid down in the sunny dell. but the violets, 0 the violets ! I thought they wore all asleep, Each on her pillow of thistle-down In the pine woods dark and deep: but they stood in hapless beauty Under the sullen skies, Each lamenting her mother, spring, With the sorrow of dewy eyes, Five o’ them, April’s darlings, On a hank of yellow mos-, That long ago *he south wind Had forgotten to blow acroHs. PASSAGE OF THE CANYON. Interestin'; Account of (Explorations in Arizona anti New Mexico. Seemingly but a few miles in front of us we readily imagine we are about ap proaching some enchanted castle, where we shall not fail to find the rest, as well as food, which we so much need, when wo suddenly find ourselves upon the edge of a canyon, 2000 feet in depth. As we gaze down into the depth of this dark abyss, a feeling of terror creeps over us, as we vainly strive to pierce the deep gloom that shrouds its rocky sides, and verges into total darkness far beneath üb. The walls are perpendicu lax, and of a blood-red color. No veg etation is anywhere to be seen; nothing but the stones around us, and the gray ish-white alkali on the surface of the plain on which we stand, with its sur roundings of crags, pinnedes, towers and mesas of rocks risiDg far above us, until their summits pierce the clouds on the one side and this black, yawning abyss just before us. Cochise moves to the left, and thero we find a narrow shelf of rock jutting out from the per pendicular walls, iust wide enough to stand upon. We follow its course with our eye until it is lost in the gloom; and yet this is the only way of crossing the canyon before us. Cochise now dis mounts, and from him I endeavor to learn something of this wonderful gorge which we are about to cross; but, Indian like, ho is reticent, and reveals nothing. He motions to me that wo must leave our mules to follow us and utters the single word “adelant,” or forward. As we descended into the gloom, we felt as if we were about to bid good-by to the earth and the sunlight, and to enter the abode of the fiends. Our imagination peoples the chasm with myriads of imps and gnomes. Just before us, the point of rock standing out so prominently re sembled a huge g'ant, ready to crash us in his terrible grasp for our audacity in presuming to venture within the realms guarded so sedulously by his misshapen form. On, on we go, now avoiding a rook in our path, here sending a pebble over the brink of the abyss at our side. The gloom becomes more intense as we descend. We cast our eyes upward; a perpendicular wall on either side of us, and far above us a narrow band of light, against which the ragged and scarred edges of the gulf seemingly almost meet ing, stand out in bold relief, giving us the impression that we are about to be crushed between the teeth of two gigan tie saws. Not a sound is to be heard, save the hesitating footsteps of our mules, when suddenly Cochise, who is some distance in advance, utters an oath in Spanish. The opposite side of the canyon echoes it, and it is carried from side to side, ftom point to point, from rock to rock, from crag to crag, with fearful distinct ness, till it resembles, to our ears, the cries of the demons, who, we are sure, surround us and inhabit this direct de scent to the home of Los Infernos. Still we go on, still continue to descend. Soon we hear the faint murmur of wa ter, as, far below us, it forces its way among the rocks and boulders that form the bed of the river, and we feel re joiced that the poor animals so careful ly following us are soon to be refreshed with a draft of cool water after their tedious journey over masses of rock, baked clay and alkali powder. Instinct ively we look behind us, and we see that they, too, have heard the grateful sound and are hurrying along, as though impatient to taste its refreshing cool ness. Then comes the thought, that fre quently, when suffering from thirst, mules have been known to stampede at the smell of water. Suppose this should be the case with ours ? What, then, would be our fate ? We cast our eyes over the brink of the yawning chasm, and then back upon our mules, as if to measure distance and strength. The sight of their erect ears, distended nos trils and glaring eyes does not tend to reassure us, and we look in vain for some spot wide enough to enable them to pass us in safety. Nothing but a solid perpendicular wall above us, and empty space for <>oo feet below. We must go on. There is no turning back. The gloom increases with every step. The walls around assume in the dark ness a thousand grotesque and missha pen forms. The obstacles in our path way become more frequent and danger ous. The darkness becomes more and more intense. We can no longer see the path for more than four or five feet ahead of us. Now, as it abruptly turns an angle, wo lose sight of it altogether, and we feel as though the next step might pre cipitate us into —what? And so we go on, hesitating, doubting, fearing, until after hours of tedious toil, such as I hope never again to experience, we finally reach the bed of the river that has worn this mighty wrinkle in the face of mother earth. After allowing our thirsty animals time to drink, and fill ing onr canteen and leathern bottles with fresh water, we follow down the bed of the stream for a mile, cautiously feeling our way in the darkness as best we can, stumbling against boulders of granite, stones and masses of trap that have been precipitated from the vast heights above us, until at length wo reach the point w here we are to be gin the ascent. Wearily toiling up the steep path, picking our way over rocks and fissures, gullies and stones, all the while gaining light, though losing strength, we at last reach the level of By R, S, BURTON. VOLUME I. t he plain that we left in the morning, to find ourselves in the twilight, only four miles below the point where we began the d<.-scent, having been more than ten hours i u making the journey. Here, upon the very brink of this fearful chasm, we throw ourselves upon the ground, declaring we can go nofur ther. Here we must camp for the night. No vegetation, no grass for our mules, no water, no food—nothing but desolation. We are no nearer the en chanted castle than we were before we made the passage of this frightful can yon. The pipes of that same grand old organ look down upon us. The same buttes, mesas, pillars, towers, ravines, chasms and fissures, surround us, that surrounded us in the morning. Then we saw them as the beams of the rising snn gilded their summits; now' we see them towering up in the twilight, and assuming a thousand fanciful and gro tesque shapes that we had not dreamed they possessed before. Tired and ex hausted, ire wrap ourselves in our blank ets and throw ourselves upon the ground to sleep. To sleep did I say ? No; for again the scenes of the day pass in rap id succession before us. Our fears, our doubts, the descent of that peril ous path, all a thousand times more fraught with danger than we had imag ined at the outset. While we are de bating in our minds whether we shall be able to cross in safety an immense fis sure that yawns frightfully before us, we hear the voice of Cochise saying “ ar riva,” and we awake to a repetition of yesterday’s toils. I am fully aware, kind reader, that I have failed to give you but a fai it idea of the perils that beset the traveler into the Apache wil ls. I only wish 1 possessed the pencil of a liierstadt, that I might portray upon canvas some of the fea tures of the remarkable country which T visited during my two weeks’ trip with Cochise. Babies. Babies are not to be blamed for be ing di agreeable ; they can’t help it. They want to be let alone and ‘kept out of sight, if they are well bred; but their foolish parents won’t let them have their way unless the word is dif ferently spelled. The unfortunate ba bies must be taken into the light, and looked at, and criticized, and poked in the ribs, and asked to laugh a little. The idea of laughing under such cir cumstances ! Crying is much more natural, and they cry, of course. Who wouldn’t ? To put a sensitive and sen sible baby on exhibition, and insist on it playing a comedy part with a doz en pins in its flesh, and several doses of medicine internally, revealing the ignorance of physicians, is much like insisting that a bereaved son should dance a hornpipe at his mother’s fu neral. Nor are babies bound to resemble their i'tvfcbcr, or mother, or botli at a time. They must have a coufused no tion what their personal appearance is after being assured they are exact counterparts of their parents, aunts, uncles, grandfathers, grandmothers, and all their cotemporaneous relatives. The truth is they don’t look like any thing in particular but themselves. Beautv is impossible to them and they know it. Their family pride is revolted at the thought of being compared to their ancestors who may chance to be comely. Their intuitive sense of art is quite sufficient to inform them that seven to thirteen pounds of scarlet avoirdupois, with imperceptible noses, protuberant eyes, and entire absence of svmmetry, do not constitute beauty. They are conscious that they suffer by comparison with other little animals, even with geese and pigs, so far as as thetics go, and, therefore, beauty is a delicate subject they would prefer not to have discussed. Babies have no in dividuality of appearance whatever, and discovering a likeness between them and mature persons is as if we compare the tender loins of a steak with the ex pression of a human countenance. Thought and the Condition of the Brain, It is now a well-established physio logical foct that mental action is a dis tinctly physical process, depending primarily on a chemical reaction be tween the blood and the brain, precisely as muscular action depends primarily on a chemical reaction between the blood and the muscular tissiles. With out the free circulation of blood in the brain, there can be neither thought nor sensation, neither emotions nor ideas. It necessarily follows that thought, the only form of brain action which we have here to consider, is a process not mere ly depending upon, but in its turn affecting, the physical condition of the brain, precisely ns muscular exertion of any given kind depends on the quality of the muscles employed and affect the condition of those muscles, not at the moment only, but thereafter, conducing to their growth and development if wisely adjusted to their power, or caus ing waste and decay if excessive and too long continued. It is important to notice that this is not a mere analogy. The relation between thought aud the condition of the brain is a reality. So far as this statement affects our ideas about actually existent mental power, it is of little importance ; for it *is not more useful to announce that a man with a good brain will possess good mental powers, than to say that a mus cular man will be capable of considera ble exertion. But as it'is of extreme importance to know of the relation which exists between muscular exercise and the growth or development of bodi ly strength, so it is highly important for us to remember that the develop ment of mental power depends largely on the exercise of the mind. There is a “training” for the brain as well as for the body—a real physical training— depending, like bodily training, on rules as to nourishment, method of action, quantity of exercise, and so forth. —A newspaper man of London pro poses to establish a daily to be issued about 9 o’clock in the forenoon, which shall be made up from the news of all the other morning dailies in the city, but the publishers think they will block the scheme by getting a bill through parlia ment giving them a copyright on all their news for forty-eight hours after its publication. EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1873. DOWN UNDER THE SEA. A Chapter of Suhteroceanic Wonders. Forest and Stream has a communica tion from Com. Beardslee, commanding the steamer Blue Light, assisted by Prof. Verrill, of Yale College, from which we copy the following passages : Cape Cod is a dividing line upon our coast. South of it one class of crea tures are found in profusion, but the quohog clam (the Calista convexa), cer tain star-fishes and woims, and the oys ter have not existed, or, having existed, have become extinct north of this line, except in a very few localities. A live Calista convexa (a species of clam) brought up in Casco bay upset at once the opinion held till then that it was extinct so far north. Quohog shells in plenty we find in ancient Indian shell mounds, which dot every slope of the island, showing that once they existed in plenty. Now but one little bay, a mere cove at the head of Casco bay, furnishes this creature, which, south of Cape Cod, is but the common plentiful clam. Oyster shells, of a size to which a saddle rock is but a pigmy, lie thickly planted six feet below the present bot tom of Portland harbor. They too, however, are extinct. In that great convulsion of nature that was so sweep ing in its effects not a living oyster was left to fulfill a mission. It seems a sad mistake up here, where oysters could be eaten every day in the year, and the nightly blanket renders superfluous the mosquito bar. But the ocean is still well filled, and with fruits and flowers, with vegetables and plants, masons and well-diggers, robbers and cannibals, and each bearing in a greater or less degree a resemblance, either in appearance or habits, to the creature or object above water that it is named for. Way down in the dark depths animal life utilizes every inch of ground, and no square foot above the surface can equal in num ber or variety of forms the same space at the bottom of the sea. Strange, odd, hor rible creatures, with none or many eyes, with speckled bodies and long, slimy, clinging arms, changing at once their form and size at will, and, like the genii of the Arabian tales, from a mere start ing point extend themselves almost in definitely in size. Beautiful creatures, too, as the anemonies and dahlias, at first frightened and jarred as we see them in the dredge, mere masses of pink or purple flesh cover and with a tough skin; left to themselves in a cool, dark place, they protude from an opening in their bodies, clusters of gay colored and gracefully-moving antennae, which in some branch like coral, in others bear close resemblance to the stamens and petals of flowers. Down here the ani mal kingdom takes from the floral tribe the duty of embellishing. Living, breathing, food-devouring flowers, and the kitchen garden too, and orchard, are not unrepresented. Sea cucumbers (Pentaccta frondosa ), sea peaches (Cyn thia pyriformis), sea pears (/lot tenia clavala), and apples, are found in plen ty, the former so close a simile of the fruif, both in form and color, that it could be mistaken, the one for the other. The flowers, though beautiful as they are, are but brigands; those graceful petals wave but to entice and grasp a victim, which, when seized, is pressed close to its mouth, and then, even if larger than its captor, is swallowed whole. The process of swallowing whole a morsel larger than the swallow er, is rather an unusual proceeding among animals, and of course an unusu al method lias to be adopted. The aDe monie does it in this way : Holding t : ghtly its prey, it gradually protrudes its stomach from its mouth, and turning it inside out, envelopes its dinner, and then it lies quietly awaiting death an 1 digestion. It rejects such portions as are not suitable, and stows away its stomach for future use. What a bless ing some men would esteem this faculty to be. The sea cucumber is another curious creature ; first found it a small compact “gherkin;” left to itself, it will swell and develop to an immense cucumber, quite large enough to make a boat of, if the sea urchins had the same habits as did those urchins of whom I was once one. Starfish we find in great numbers and varieties; different according to the character of the bottom. The common “live-fingered Jack” is found every where, and at each haul of the dredge, whether from mud or rocks, “ aster is vulgaris" is the first object called out to the note taker. An Old Ship. The bark True Love, Capt. Thomas Wetherill, has just arrived from Green land with a cargo of kryolite. This vessel was built in the year 1764, and is, consequently, 109 years old. The sides batter inward to the top of the gun wale, and this makes the vessel much broader at the water-line than on deck. In nautical language, the sides are known as “tumbling home,” because they fall in above the bends. This bark ■was built at Philadelphia, but it cannot be ascertained with any degree of cer tainty at what particular point. The custom-house register does not contain the record, because the vessel was built twelve years before the beginning of the American revolution. It is most likely that she was built in Kensington, as it appears from history that the first ship-yards on the Delaware were estab lished in that locality, not far from the Penn treaty ground. The bark was built for parties residing in Hull, Eng land, and still hails from that place, and for forty-seven years was engaged in the whaling business in the northern seas, and appeared to be at home among the icebergs of the Arctic region. It is understood that the vessel lias never required any considerable repairs. The original timbers appear to be as sound as the day they were erected on the stocks in old Kensington. The bark registers two hundred and ninety-six tons, but will carry much more. Catching a Mouse.—A Keokuk lady, while engaged in the pursuit of domes tic duties, encountered a mouse in the flour barrel. Now most ladies under similar circumstances w T ould have ut tered a few feminine shrieks and then sought safety in the garret. But this one possessed more than an ordinary degree of female courage. She sum mons'd the hired man and told him to get the shot gun, call the bull dog, and station himself at a convenient distance, In God we Trust. Then she climbed half way up the stairs and pounded the flour vigorously with a pole. Presently theijouse made its appearance and started' across the floor. The bull dog at once went in pursuit. The man fired and the dog dropped dead. The lady fainted and fell down the stairs, and the hired man, thinking that she was and fearing that he would be arrested for murder, lit out, and has not been seen since. The mouse escaped. The qf Genius. Conceit does not depend on the rela tion between a man’s feme value and his estimato of his value. If so, it would be scarcely possible for some great men to be conceited at all. If Shakespeare, for example, had guessed only one-half of the truth about himself, if he had known that; the minutest details of his life and writings ' Aiie discussed in all civilized language* That his in fluence would revolutionize foreign lit eratures, centuries after his death, and that Ben Johnson and Fletcher would appear to his posterity as mere pigmies by his side, he would have been thrown off liis balance by sheer astonishment. Such incense would have been too strong for any moral brain. And in this sense it is almost impossible for any man of genius to be conceited. Nobody, however brilliant his promise, can be confident that he will draw one of the stupendous prizes in the vast lottery of life. A young man who should say, I will be a Shakespeare, or a Dante, or a Homer, would either be, or be in the way of becoming, a fool. Genius must so far be unconscious that it can scarcely dare to recognize its own : superlative merit, and yet a man may conceivably be overpowered even by a revelation of only a part of his own glory. In another sense genius must be necessarily more or less unconscious. Newton is supposed to have said that his mathematical excellence was due to nothing but to his having labored more perseveringly than others. And the theory has been packed into a formula that genius* is nothing but an infinite capacity for taking trouble. In spite of the great names which may be adduced in behalf of this doctrine, w r e venture to think that the source of the fallacy is transparent. We will not dwell upon the fact, which is sufficiently obvious, that a capacity for endurance is just as rare and valuable an endowment as the capacity for immediate insight; and that a man, for example, who can keep his mind fixed upon a mathematical problem for many hours together, as Newton is said to have done, has one of the rarest of powers. But the argu ment is more vitally defective. Newton saw that, by alio wing liis mind to dwell upon certain problems, they gradually became clear to him, and that the longer he could attendee them the clearer his mind became... In other words, since his success in the mathe matical operations varied as the amount of labor bestowed upon them, he as sumed that the labor was the one es sential element of success. But ob viously it does not follow that the same amount of labor from a feeble brain would produce equal effects. The length of time during which a problem was exposed to the action of his intellectual and ingestion was one condition of his success; but so was the vigor of the digestion for a given time. In short, Newton could compare his owm mental operations, and pronounce those to have been most fruitful which were most laborious ; but he could not look into the mind of an other man, and see by comparison how slow' and blundering was his reasoning machinery in comparison with his own. We are all liable to make mistakes of this kind, in one way or the other. We fancy that a man of genius has accom plished success by a lucky hit, because weeanuot at all realize the faculty with which he can at a given moment com mand all the resources of his mind. And, in revenge, the man of genius attributes to obstinacy or idleness what is th.e result of good, plain, honest stupidity. Each of us can only have < direct experience of the working of one mind; and we naturally assume, till the contrary has been forced upon us, that all other minds are cast in the same mold. Perhaps it would be as well if, for a brief period of his life, everybody was condemned to be a school-master or a crammer, in order that he might more or less fathom the stupendous abysses of human stupidity. Meanwhile it is easy to understand how a Newton or a Pascal, to whom propositions ordinarily reached by 1 mg processes of calculation appear to be self-evident truths, may be unconscious of the difference between himself and his fellows. It does not occur to them that men can be so blind as not to see in broad daylight, and it is easy to imagine that they are willfully closing their eyes.— London Saturday Review. Catching Bugs. —A writer in a French horticultural journal relates this sug gestive experience : “After sunset I place in the centre of my orchard an old barrel, the inside of which I have previously well tarred. At the bottom of the barrel I place a lighted lamp. Insects of many kinds, attracted by the light, make for the lamp, and, while circ ing around it, strike against the sides of the barrel, where, meeting with the tar, their wings and legs become so clogged that they fall helpless to the bottom. In the morning I examine the barrel, and frequently take out; of it ten or twelve gallons of cockchafers, which lat once destroy. A few pence worth of tar employed in this way will, without any further trouble, be the means of destroying innumerable num bers of these insects, whose larvae are among the most destructive pests the gardenner or farmer has to contend against. ” —The Etruscan museum of Florence has lately been enriched by the acquisi tion of a beautiful marble sarcophagus, found in a tomb at Tarquini, in the Mareme, the sides of which are fres coed in the highest style of Grecian art, with a battle of Amazons and kin dred subjects. Some of the heads are wonderfully fine in expression and the horses and general action most vividly spirited. The museum paid 23,000 francs for it. Next to the “ Muse of Cortona,” it is, perhaps, one of the most precious of modern finds, Significance of the Fingers. Each finger, and the mount at the base of it, is named from a planet. In the normal hand the second finger is the longest, the first nearly as long as the third, and much longer than the fourth or little finger. Jupiter is the first finger. If it be long and not ill shapen, and if the mount at its base be well developed, it indicates a noble and lofty character and a religious-minded person. If disproportionately long it will mean different things according to the type of hand in which it may be found, or according to the type of that particular finger ; in the first type an over-long first finger would denote an inclination to the fantastic or the exag gerated in religious matters; or it might mean religious madness ; or if other signs in the hand favored this view, it cc,uld be taken to denote pride. Pride is a form of worship—the love of self. In the second type of hand the excessive development of Jupiter might mean ambition, or, if it were in a hand that was eminently unselfish, it w'ould stand for a something puritanical in manners and morals—a too great severi ty. In the third type a very long first finger would probably signify vanity. The second finger is Saturn. If too prominent, it announces melancholy, or misanthropy, or downright cruelty, ac cording to the type of hand ; but if the finger be within one purport on, this sadness may take the form of pity for others, or it may mean merely a be coming gravity. The third finger is Apollo, and belongs to the arts. In a “ pointed” hand Apollo will give poetry and music (composition); in a “square” hand, painting, sculpture (here art leaves the domain of the purely con templative ; it becomes partly active from (he combination of manual skill with what is only imaginative); and in a well-shaped hand Apollo will give his torical power, an aptitude for acting, or a love of theatrical amusements. On the stage, art is joined in the closest manner to motion. The fourth finger is Mercury. If well proportioned it promises a scientific turn of mind, resourcefulness and diplomacy—tact. The thumb is Venus. Chirognomony and palmistry agree in almost all par ticulars about the thumb. In both systems it is treated as the most ini" portant part of the hand. The upper joint, that with the nail, stands for the will ; the second division, the reason ing difficulties ; the base, the animal instincts. What the English Think About Ris tori’s Acting. The power of dramatic art could scarcely go further—it certainly has not gone further within our recent memo ries—than in the sleep-walking scene from “Macbeth,” as rendered in the broken English of the great Italian ac tress. Ristori, aided only by a feeble gentle-woman and a tiresome physician, with no assistance from dramatic situa tion or from scene, left on the minds of her audience an impression which is in delible, and which none could wish to lose. The high expectation of the house was readily discernible from the irritation with which all preliminary in terruptions were hushed down, and in the excited longing with which all eyes were turned toward the dimly-lighted stage. That none were disappointed might easily be determined by the wild rapture of the triple or quadruple call which summoned Madame Ristori again and again before the curtain. The younger members of the audience frankly confessed that they had seen nothing like this before ; and the elder had to rack their brains in order to dis cover performances worthy, in all points, to be ranked with this. To.take one in stance out of many that might be ad duced —the nervous rubbing of hand over hand to remove the hideous stain, a movement which was continued throughout the scene, was a master stroke of art. Without being obtru sive, the nervous action of those rigid hands nevertheless held the horror stricken gaze of the spectators, and thoroughly conveyed the haunted feel ings of the wretched murderess. Then, again, who but Ristori would dare imi tate for us, in realistic fashion, the heavy breathing of the somnambulist; and who but she could, through it all, make even her whispered words of ter ror audible over the whole house ? Once more the intense artificial calm of the utterance, “What’s done cannot be undone,” and the attempted conviction of or assurance, ‘‘ He cannot come out of his grave,” these triumphs of histri onic art can never pass out of our mem ories, any more than can the weird pic ture of the white figure as, witii grand ly conceived gesture and mein, it departs from us, beckoning and hoarse ly calliug, “To bed! to bad! — Liver pool Paper. • How Raisins are Made.— Charles Nordhoff, writing from California to the New Fork Tribune, speaks of the manu facture of raisins as follows : For mak ing rai-ins, they wait until the grape is fully ripe, and then carefully cut off the bunches and lay them either on a hard clay floor, formed in the open air, or on brown paper laid between the vine rows. They do not trim out poor grapes from the bunches, because, as they assert, there are none; but I sus pect this will have to be done for the very finest raisins, such as would tempt a reluctant buyer. The bunches re quire from eighteen to twenty-four days’ exposure in the sun to be cured. During that time they are gently turned from time to time, and such as are ear liest cured are removed to the raisin house. This is fitted with shelves, on which the raisins are laid out a foot thick, and here they are allowed to sweat a little. If they sweat too much the sugar candies on the outside, and this deteriorates the quality of the rai sin. It is an object to keep the bloom on the berries. They are kept in the raisin-house, I believe, five or six weeks, when they are dry enough to box. It is as yet customary to put them in twenty five pound boxes, but no doubt, as more experience is gained, farmers will contrive other parcels. Slang.— ln his recently-published diary, Mescheles records an amusing instance of the perplexities which “ slang” causes to learners of Enerlish, “To-day,” he writes, “I was asked at dessert which fruit of those on the table I would prefer, * Some sneers, ’ I $ 2 Ou per Annum. NUMBER 40. replied, ingenuously. The company first of all were surprised, and then burst into laughter when they guessed the process by which I had arrived at the expression. I, who at that time had to construct my English laboriously out of dialogue-books and dictionaries, had found that ‘ not to care a fig’ meant ‘to sneer at a person,’ so when I wanted to ask for figs, fig and sneer I thought were synonymous.” Dervishes. In Leland’s “Egyptian Sketch Book” he writes : “The dervishes sang and chanted with tremendous energy, and, as the spirit entered them, let off cries much like those which are to be heard in camp-meetings and at revivals. Then they begin to bow, keeping the legs straight. This is not easy to do. Just try it. Put your back to the wall and try to pick up a sixpence at your tip toes. I believe there are howlers who can do it with their mouths. As they bowed all together they uttered what I believe was Allah! Recovering their perpendicular they bowed and Allah’d again. They increased the time, work ing magnificently; in about a minute the whole fifty of them went like one man, and the ‘jerks’ were superb! Closing my eyes, I realized a curious thing—that no one could have distin guished by sound alone any difference between the dervishes and a hundred horse high-pressure steam-engine. Something like a dreamy feeling of the olden time stole o’er me. Methought I was in the sanctum adjacent to the press-room, while the fourth edition was being worked off. Once in a while the head dervish or an assistant uttered shrill cries, and these I thought came from newsboys out in the street. 1 opened my eyes ; (hey had got up to the highest rate, and were running her off at eighteen thousand copies an hour, I mean fifty-two bobs and fifty-two Allahs in a minute. I know this, for one spectator timed them and joyfully proclaimed it aloud. Suddenly one of the dervishes, who had distinguished himself by his zeal, became mel bus, or possessed, and fell down. Had he been a Methodist or a Roman Catholic, a disciple of Madame Guyon or any of the five hundred writers whose names are given in Poiret’s ‘De Mystics,’ I should liava said that he was inspired, or at least have shook my head gravely, and tenderly declared that it was won derful and not to be lightly spoken of. It is thus that I feel and think ever of Convulsionnaires. But as he was only a poor devil ©f a dervish, and a misera ble heathen of a Mohammedan, it was plainly enough only an epileptic fit, and we regarded it accordingly.” What is Genius ? We have had many definitions of ge nius, and many refusals to attempt to define it, as somewhat that is indefina ble, a thing that eludes and takes some shop©, and when we think we have it, we have it not. Like beauty, inspira tion and instinct, it lies in a region of uncertain and shifting lights ; is itself and not itself; appears to be this till another view dawns and it must be that; but the last will not stick better than the first, in the presence of some other revelation. But after all the learned clamor, what if genius was so simple a thing as a larger and finer degree of sensibility, a plus of vital heat, some more feeling and spirit among our tal ents. Every one knows what advan tage lies in being kindled. For he who could say nothing before can say any thing now, and with rare logic, imagin ation and persistency ; sterility becomes suddenly fertile, as if the desert were to bloom and bear fruit at once; cow ardice gives place to courage, or we have exchanged our fawn for a lion. Am I the same man, to-day, I was yesterday ? Now so aerial and lithe and full of rapt visions and eager for better commun ions, having down my rare books for rare occasions, or fleeing to gaze again and worthily at some fine landscape or work of art, but then only a mole with out eyes in some dark corner, an oys ter in the mud, or a foolish bat flying blind in the day. The same and not the same ; the same plus a heat that has freed the frozen and pent-up cur rents, or a quickened sensibility that gives me to myself, installs me iu full command of my powers, and befriends intuitions and spontaneities, as a better atmosphere gives sharpness and range to the eye. —Sumner Ellis. Painters’ Vengeance. In the Princess Lichstenstein’s late work, “Holland House,” a curious an ecdote is told of one of Hogarth’s pic tures. A nobleman refused to pay for a portrait he had ordered,, and the artist being in want of money, informed him that if he did not do so in three days he would add to it a tail and other append ages, and sell it to Mr. Hore, the fa mous wild beast exhibitor. A similar threat was executed sixty years ago, by a painter named Du Bost, who, failing to extract an enormous price for a pic ture of Mr. and Mrs. Hope, showed it in Pall Mall as “Beauty and the beast,” which so enraged the lady’s brother that he cut it in pieces. The case was tried before Lord Ellenborough, who decided that the picture being a libel, the plaintiff could only recover for the loss of the paint and canvas. Some thing of this kind is related by Senor Castelar in “Old Rome and New Italy.” Biagio, master of the ceremonies to Paul 111., offended Michael Angelo by im ploring him to drape his figures. Asa punishment for his want of taste, the artist painted him with the ears of an ass in the depths of hell. The master of the ceremonies ran to complain to Paul 111. of the insult put on his res pectable person. “I beseech your holi ness to take me out of tkai,”"he cried. “But where has he placed thee?” de manded the pontiff. “In hell, your holiness, in hell!” replied Biagio, sob bing. “If thou hadst been in purgato ry,” said the pope, “I would have re moved thee; but I have no authority whatever in hell.” —A deceased Indian, who had neg lected to “molder to dust,” was re cently found under the root of a tree near Augusta Ga., completely petrified. He had probably lain there "a hundred years, the tree having grown over him meantime. His head was cleft in twain, and a stone hatchet, which probably had a hand in his murder, was found near it, EASTMAN TIMES. RATES OF ADVERTISING: SPACE. 1 ID. 3 ID* ® m * One square ' f 4 00“ $ £ os m Two squares ! 0 25] 12 001,18 00 25 00 Four squares 9 ? 5 | W 00i ,28 00 One-fourth col 11 60j 22 50 }34 00 46 00 One-half col 20 00 32 5(Vs r 55 00 80 00 One column 35 001 00 00 i-80 00| 130 00. Advertisement* inserted at the rate of $1.50 per square f< r t .e first insertion, and 75 cents for each subsequent one. Ten lines or less constitute a ProftW t .1 eards, $15.00 Rer annum; for six months, SIO.OO, in advance. GLEANINGS AND GOSSIP. —The panic has hung Lent’s circus up at Atlanta, Ga., but it will resume in the spring. —Frank Blair thinks that we have only to shako the Spanish nation a lit tle'and Cuba will “drop into our lap like ripe fruit.” —Mrs. M. H. Burnham, the Twell known correspondent of the St. Lotus Republican, has been lecturing to the St. Louis people. —The last surviving servant of G. Washington is dying very frequently, this season. The latest is Arvena Trip lett, 99, at Washington. —The “ American university ” of Philadelphia is to be indicted for issu ing bogus diplomas, at the next session of the supreme court in the Quaker city. —A man who subscribed $5,000 to a Universaliat college at Logansport, Ind., a year or -two ago, now says he was crazy, and the trustees have sued him. i'he heirs of Remus Ferry, who died recently in Elkhart county, Ind., spent most of the fall in digging over one hundred and sixty acres of ground for $2,000 of buried gold. —A movement is on foot to establish a line of six steamers from New Or leans to Rio Janeiro, each to carry 2,500 tons of freight and make the pas sage in twenty-two days. —lt has not yet been settled what is the true boundary line between Mary land and Virginia, and Gov. Wise with several assistants is wrestling with the problem. —Authority shows, according to an alysis, the dried onion contains from twenty-fivo to thirty per cent, of glu ten and ranks in this respect with the nutritious pea and the grains. —Du Chaillu is overdue at New York from Europe. He promised to lecture to the Bostonians on the sth, and seve ral of his appointments have been can celed, but nothing has been heard from him. —Facts are cruel things, think Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Chambers of Geor gia, who were go’ng to France to claim an ©state of theirs worth $12,000,000, but now find that there is no such estate in France. —lt is Nashville, Tenn., now, that proposes to sublimate her fair-grounds into a perennial state exposition, at which the flora and the fauna and the mineral kingdoms shall assemble, to be looked at by coming generations. —A sample of the tyranny of man was shown at a woman’s rights meeting in Titusville, where a gentleman en tered and told his wife, one of the offi cers of the meeting, to come home quick, ‘‘ as the baby had the colic. ” She went. —The Greeley (Col.) market is full of buffalo meat, which sells for two and three cents a pound. The Utes .and Sioux are very jealous of the white hunters for meddling with an industry which they think belongs more legiti mately to them. —George Alfred Townsend suceeeds James W. Knowltou, deceased, as Wash ington correspondent of the Chicago Tribune, Cincinnati Commercial and Missouri Republican combination, and takes Col. Hilton’s place as correspon dent of tne New York Graphic. —After Joe Jefferson has fiuished his engagements in Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, he will retire to his beautiful estate on the river Teche, in Louisiana, where he owns some two thousand acres of land, prolific of or anges, Tiecans, etc., and only eight hours from New Orleans. —The railway association of America held a meeting at Chicago, r;t which seventy-two of the principal railroads of the country agreed, by their repre sentatives, co pay o mort commissions on the sale of tickets. There is only one leading road, the Baltimore and Ohio, that has not signed the agree ment, and this, with all the smaller roads, it is thought, will be obliged to fail in with others. —The St. Louis live-stock dealers celebrated on Friday the opening at East St Louis of anew stock-yard, 650 acres in extent, containing an exchange building, a large hotel, and all necessa ry buildings for the accommodation of the animals, the largest of which is the “ hotel de hog,” 1122 by 100 feet in size, with a capacity of 15,000 swine and 10,- 000 bushels of corn. The grounds are provided with all the conveniencies of a town, such as gas, water-works, res taurants, etc. —Preparations for the skating season at Central park, New York, have already commenced, and the large building on the magin of the lower lake, containing stoves, dressing-rooms, a restaurant, etc., which is built up and removed every year, at a cost of SSOOO, is now be ing erected. The annual cost of clearirg the ice on all the lakes of the park is about $20,000. The largest number of visitors to the park on any day, last winter, was 75,000, of whom it is be lieved at least 40,000 resorted to the lakes and ponds. —The argumentum ad hominem takes an unusual form in the council of the Cherokee nation. Sam Osage, the hon orable Cherokee from a certain full-blood district, was recently discussing a knotty constitutional question at Tahlequah, Ark., when Turn Foreman quieted him with a pistol ball, but Turn himself was afterwards worste i in the discussion bv a home thurst, from the effects of which he died in a few hours. It is, however, considered both unparliamentary and ungentlemanly to kill a man in the Che rokee council. —Fred Donglass told a Washington audience about his personal connection with the John Brown raid, the other day. He said that the constitution for the proposed republic was written at his house in Rochester, and was still in his He spent a whole day and night with Brown and Shields Green m a quarry Aaas just before the Ferry, and tried to dissuade the execution of their plan. Twelve years before the raid, Brown laid before Douglass the pi an for a general insurrec tion all along the Alleghany ridges of the slave states, with the idea of mount ing hundreds of black men on their masters’ horses, and letting them ride to free soil.