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EASTMAN TIMES.
Real luve Country Paper.
EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
-BY
R. S. BURT OKT.
TERMS OF SUIISCIHPTIOH i
On* copy, one year 12.00
One copy, eix months 1.00
Ten copies, in clul>s, one year, each 1.50
Single copies eta
OUT OF THE WINDOW.
Out of the window she leaned, and laughed,
A girl's laugh, idle and foolish and sweet,—
Foolish and idle, it dropped like a call,
Into the crowded, noisy street.
Up he glanced at the glancing face.
Who hd caught the laugh as it fluttered and fell
And eye to eye for a moment there
They held each other as if by a spell.
All in a moment passing there,
And into her idle, empty day,
All in that moment something new
Suddenly seemed to find its way.
And through and through tlio clamorous hours
That made his clamorous busy day,
A girl’s laugh, idle and foolish and sweet
Into every bargain found its way.
And through and through the crowd of the streets
At everv window in parsing by. ’
lie looked a moment, and seemed to see
A pair of eyes like the morning sky.
BEYOND A DOUBT.
BY NICHOLINO HAYNN.
Paul Wfivne was a bachelor of fortv
five. Not one of the wayward, nomadic
sort, bnt, who occupied a splendid house
and took excellent eare of an orphan
who called him Uncle Paul. He was
blessed with the best heart, in the world,
and possessed so many of the requisites
of a pood husband and father that it
was a matter of great surprise among
his friends that he remained single.
Those who knew him best rightly traced
his single blessedness to his one fault, a
most wonderful obdnraey and unwill
ingness to give up an impression once
fully entertained. This characteristic
injured him in his business affairs too,
but. those with whom he had business
differences attributed it to what, for a
better term, they called eoe n*ricity.
Paul Wavne had his love passages in
his earlier manhood, bnt they came to
nothing bnt disappointment, because of
this obdurate and unalterable determin
ation to abide by h>s first impressions,
whether these agreed with subsequent
facts or not; indeed, whether it suited
the other party in the love affair or not.
You l g girls do not generally like a
hirer who is not, the least bit. pliable.
While their natures demand strong,
manlv love, for something that shields,
there is intermingled with it all a touch
of the oonqnering spiiit, to be recog
n’aed. Paul Wayne’s lordly wav of
wooing, a way which to his ladv friends
seemed to sav, wait until I am readv
and T have only to name tbedav, brought
him a f least one ridiculous jilt, but to
it all be oulv said, as be put the girl out
of his memory, “ She will regret it
beyond a doubt.”
Marv Dale did regret it; for she
married a man who broke her heart by
brutal treatment, and deserted her while
Rhe lay helplessly sick with a girl-baby
in her bosom. That girl-baby was given
to Paul Wayne with the last, breach of
the dying mother, and it was baby Mary
Dale who, at, seventeen, called him
Uncle Paul.
“Mary. Philip Hastings is a bad man.
1 know it beyond a doubt. Jam not
deceived. ”
“ TTotr do you know it, Uncle Paul ?”
“Well, how do we know anything?
Why, there are rnanv ways and reasons
for knowing and thinking so; one is—
well, it, don’t matter. I know it bevond
a doubt.”
He knew it, and that was enough for
him. And Marv knew him well enough
to end such an argument at once. It
was just at the proper moment, too, for
Philip Hastings, the “bad man,” was
announced. While we leave the lovers
together enjoying a brief morning call,
we will go out with Paul Wayne, and
down town.
“ Bad mao, beyond a doubt. Bad
company. He is always with that man
Qnigley; what in the w rid brought
that man, that wretch Quigley, back,
when wo all thought him dead and bur
ied these years? He ought to have
died long ago. ” And Uncle Paul thrust
his cane against the pavement with a
nervous, impetuous motion, and looked
np to see—Qniglev.
They passed, Paul Wayne looking
straight, ahead down the street, the oth
er casting qniek glances at the stern
face of the bachelor, hoping for a look
of recognition, then stopping to look
after the retreating figure, as if to be
certain that it was the man. A few
yards separated them, and then Paul
con and not, resist the curiosity to look
and their eves met. It was awk
ward, hut onlv for an instant, the baoh
elor tnrning quickly and proceeding on
his wav.
“If I could only talk to him a mo
ment. But the roor get but few words
find these not kindly one ; I will let
him alone,” arid the man Quigley
threaded his wav among the throng of
men hearing strange faces. He had
been gone for years, and anew genera
tion had sprung up. Pew [gave him a
look betokening recognition. N'iw and
then a man with whitened liair and
bowed form would half stop, gaz* at.
him an instant with a curious, inquisi
■ ve look, as of trying to recall some
thmg of the past, then pans on. Far
ther awav from the bustle of the busi
ness streets the stranger paused in his
and said again, aloud, to himself,
T con Id onlv talk to him a mo
ment ” Theh If piteous tone fell upon
the ears of two light-hearted girls who
"ere pasning, and a shade of melan
choly p asae{ | OVPr iljq fa C e of the younger
a both turned to look at the spook- r,
;m we recognize our Unole Paul’s Marv.
Not, a Rnperblv handsome girl with ori
ental eyes and the soft, sensuous lang
uor of the famed east bnt, a good heal
th''’. pretty girl, something to love
fondlv, something tangible to stand the
n ar and tear of life, something worthy
pf man’s striving efforts. That even
ing there was an icy party at Uncle
Paul’s. Marv had been amusing him
’n the earlier hours with “ old-fashioned
songs,” as Paul called them, and the
v *o wore in the midst of tlieso ptoasures
when, Philip Heatings was announced.
Uncle Paul could not escape. He had
nowhero to go but to bed, and it was
too early for that. Young ladies need
not be told how really disagreeable the
position when a young gentleman is
prost of who loves'her, while an elder
member of the family is immovably
anchored in the room, and who in turn
heartily dislikes, or thinks he does, the
young man as a “ bad man.” wa v
a raid of an explosion as nervously
undertook the to-k of direc ing the con
verv'ioo. She endeavored -to st-er
of • q ucka&nds, hue in tstving
to dr-w ITucle Paul into the conversa
tion she precipitated just what she was
*> anxious to avoid.
Two Dollars Per Annum,
VOLUME ||.
Uncle Paul had sat quite still for
awhile, in a half-drowsy, browu stndy,
but he awakened suddenly when Mary
said, “Susie and I met such a strange
looking, unhappy old man to-day.”
“A what—that old man—beyond a
doubt a bad man.”
“ Why, Uncle Paul, have you waked
at last ?” asked Mary. “I am glad
something can fix your attention.”
Paul did not look as though he cared
to listen, as Mary went on. “So old
and feeble, and yet about him a some
thing telling of better, happier days ;
in his face curves worn deep by patient
sorrow. Just as we passed him he was
saying : ‘lf I could only talk to him a
moment,’ as if some old friend had
refused him sympathy. Who could it
have been, I wonder? I pitied him.”
Uncle Paul fidgeted, but said nothing,
though he felt the thrust so uninten
tionally given, while Philip Hastings
seemed happy and yet uneasy at the
turn things had taken, so different from
what he desired. The two talked of the
strange old man, while Uncle Paul grew
uneasy at every word, until finally he
rose upon his feet and began pacing the
floor in an agitated way that he could
not conceal,
Mary watched her uncle for a few
moments, surprised, and wondering
what there was in the talk about a
strange old man to agitate her dear old
uncle. Philip said to her :
“ Miss Wayne, the old man of whom
we have been talking is one entirelv
worthy of your sweet sympathy, and,
in n, word, is my best friend.”
Uncle Paul halted suddenly, utterly
dumbfounded at the declaration. He
raised both hands, as if the effronterv
of the avowal had filled him with sur
prise and indignation too deep for ex
pression.
“ Tell me, Philip Hastings, that at
east you do not know this old man’s
history, ”
A thousand frightful questions sug
gested themselves to the mind of Marv.
She leaned forward to oatch Philip’s de
nial, a denial which she hoped he would
make, and she shared Paul Wayne’s
horror when Philip said : “ Every line
and passage of it, sir.”
“ Why, sir, he’s the wickest man alive,
and it you—well, if he is your friend,
if there is any community of thought
with him, why—well, I’m right, bevond
a doubt. But there cannot be. He has
given you his version, and when I tell
ycu all, yon will east him off.”
“He has told me all, and I have
found that he has told me the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the
truth. When men assume a character
>t is not a bad one. The old man Quig
lev has made a clean breast of it all.
He arrested me in my downward oareer,
and I cannot, would not cast him off ”
There was something in this speech,
so earnest, so manly, that Mary was
proud of her lover for having uttered
**, lxjk T7uva„ L It)Lit *3
fact) noftened, nd he was almost ready
to acknowledge that he might be wrong,
when Philip resumed his story :
“ I spent last winter in Now Orleans,
as you know. One night I visited a
gaming table and was induced to play.
I lost, heavily, and, becoming desperate,
I was about to risk my purse and its
contents upon a single throw, when a
servant stumbled against me and we
fell. As T stooped to aid him he whis
pered : ‘ I did it purposely. Plav no
more. Meet me ontsido the door.’ I
withdrew from the game and met him,
and he said : * Your antagonist there.’
pointing inside, ‘was cheating you; I
saw it all. Don’t go back. I was ruin
ed there; I used to play with thou
sands, now I sweep the floors.’ ‘ Why
do you stay there ?’ I asked. * I must
eat and drink, and who will take me
with a character from there as my last
place ?’ ”
Mary felt relieved and her Uncle Panl
said, “The servant was Quigley; bathe
doubtless did not tell you that all these
thousands he stole from his deserted
wife, or pained on forged paper.”
“No, sir, not then. But I took him
as my servant and then he told me that
I could not trust him, and why. He
told me what you have just stated. I
did trust him and I have never had oc
casion to doubt him or regret my
choice.”
Uncle Paul paced the floor for a mo
ment, mutterinsr, “ It will come out be
yond a doubt; I had better tell it all,”
then went over to Mary and caught her
to his heart as if he would shield her
with his life, and looking at Philip said:
“You believe in this man’s reformation
—this nan Quigley. One more test and
that will settle it beyond a doubt.
Would vou marry his daughter ?”
“If I were not engaged and”—he
stopped. Surprise was flushing Mary’s
face when Ui cle Paul answered the
questioning face before him. “There
she is—v' 2 s, my ward, my more than
child, is Quigley’s daughter, given me
by his deserted wife, and Mary’s dying
mother. Prove your sincerity in this
man.”
Philip took the poor amazed girl in
his arms and saved her from falling.
Uncle Paul hopped about the room as
one possessed, dashing a tear from his
eye and exclaiming: “It’s all right now,
a doubt.”
Quigley, by the ai<kof a gift left him
by a dying relative, was enabled to re
pay those he had wronged in purse, and
with a lovely daughter to caress and
comfort his old age his was a happy
end. We should never distrust the
ability of any man for reformation, and
no one’s repentance should be despised.
Emigration Statistics.
The statistics of emigration do not
show that the natives of Great Britain
feel any frantic sort of adoration for
her. During the past sixty years she
has seen a population of exactly 7,871,-
897 depart to other lsnds. In 1873
alone the number of emigrants was 310,-
012. The greater part of these people
name to this country, while the rest
tried fortune chiefly iu Australasia. It
is curious how completely French sen
timent is the reverse of English on the
subject of emigration. Only about
130 000 French people have settled in
\'g. . a, and France lias had possession
,f 7 hat country for forty yegrs. French
ocpulation is. however, constantly de
c rising. During live years, and for
reasons indepen. ent of emigration and
the cession of Al it has declined
by half a million,
EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1574. NUMBER 4ti
African Jugglery.
A correspondent of the New York
Graphic, writing from that Meoca of
materialized spirits, the Eddy home
stead, relates the following marvelous
performances of a party of African jug
glers, as witnessed by Mme. de Blavats
kv in Upper Egypt:”
“Michalko” visited us again the next
evening and spoke to Mme. de Blavatsky
in the Georgian tongue ; and after two
or three more forms had shown them
selves I saw one of the most singular
creatures that ever excited the wonder
of a “ circle.” He wes a tall, spare ne
gro, black as ink, and dressed in a curi
oub costume, two features of which were
very conspicuous. Upon his woolly
head he had a coiffure that would make
a sensation on Broadway. J could see
an ornamented fillet or band, and on
top of his head four horns with bent
tips, something like those of the cha
mois or some varieties of African ante
lope. The points of the two in front
were turned backward, and ihoie of the
two in rear forward, while a brass or
gilt ball hung suspended from each tip.
Mme. de Blavatsky did not recognize
him at first, but he stepped forward a
pace or two and she then saw before her
the chief of a party of African jugglers
whom she encownteied once in Upper
Eg\pt at a celebration of the feast of
“The Ramazan.” The magical per
formances of his party upon that occa
sion make one of the most incredible
stories in the history of magic and spir
tualism, and one feat deserves place in
such a book of weird experiences as
this. Madame says that in full sight of
a multitude comprising several hundred
Europeans and many thousand Egyp
tians and Africans the juggler came out
on a bare space of ground, leading a
small boy, stark-naked, by the hand and
carrying a huge roll of tape that might
be twelve or eighteen inches wide. Af
ter certain ceremonies he whirled the
roll about his head several times and
then flung it straight up into the air.
Instead of falling back to earth after it
had ascended a short distance, it kept
ou upward, unwinding and unwinding
interminably from the stick, until it
grew to be a mere speck, and finally
passed out of sight. The juggler drove
the pointed end of the stick into the
groimd, and then beckoned the boy to
approach. Pointing upward, and talk
ing in a strange jargon, he seemed to
be ordering the little fellow to ascend
the self-suspended tape, which by this
time stood straight and stiff, as if it
were a board whose end rested against
some solid support up in mid-air. The
boy bowed compliance, and began
climbing, using his hands and feet as
li'tle “All Right” does when climbing
Satsuma’s Dalance-pole. The boy went
higher and higher, until he, too, seemed
to pass into clouds and disappear.
The jugglar waited five or ten minutes,
and then, pretending to be impatient,
7 r to bis assistant as it to or
ner mm (loon "Wr ntmwi>T tuno hesirci
and no boy appeared; so, finally, as if
carried away with rage, the juggler
thrust a naked sword into his breech
clout, the only garment upon his per
son, and climbed after the boy. Up
and up and up, hand over hand and step
by step, he ascended, until the strain
ing eyes of the multitude sa w him no
more. There was a moment’s pause and
then a wild shriek came down from the
sky, and a bleeding arm, as if freshly
cut from the boy’s body, fell with a
horrid thud upon the ground. Then
came enother, then the two legs one
after the other, then the dismembered
trunk, and, last of all, the ghastly head,
every portion of the body streaming
with gore which covered the ground all
about. A second lad now stepped for
ward, and, gathering the mutilated
fragments of his comrade into a heap,
threw a dirty cloth over them and re
tired. Presently the jugglar was seen
descending as slowly and cautiously as
he had ascended. He reached the
ground at last, with his naked sword all
dripping with blood. Paying no atten
tion to the remains of his supposed vic
tim, he went to rewinding his tape upon
his stick, his audience meanwhile break
ing out into cries of impatience and ex
ecration. When the tape was all re
wound, he wiped his sword, and then
deliberately stepping to the bloody
heap lifted off the ragged quilt, and up
rose the little tape climber as hearty as
ever, and bowed and smiled upon the
amazed throng as though dismember
ment were an after-breakfast pastime to
which he,had been accustomed from in
fancy. In comparison with a feat line
this the “Indian box trick” appears a
trivial affair, and the phenomina of spir
itualism child’s play !
A Love Story.
She is a young lady of a pensive turn.
Her hair is light, her eyes are blue, and
her nose is red. She gets up in the
morning in a melancholy moed, and re
tires to bed in a watermel-ancholicky
state. She loves a man whom her father
abhors. She dotes upon the ground on
which he walks with his fourteen inch
cowhides, while her father swears he’ll
lay twenty inches of cowhide over his
shoulder if he ever catches her talking
to him. Last week she was out for a
promenade, and to commune with her
own sad thoughts. She met Alphonso
—she ca led him Alphonso, though the
boys in the shop where he earned his
eight dollars a week called him “Feetsy
Jim.” He offered his arm. She took
it. He sighed and said, “Ah, this is
indeed a moment of ecstatic joy.” “Is
it?” asked a voice of thunder at his
side, while a hand grasped his collar.
“ You’ll find it the saddest moment of
your life, you bldSsted jumble-headed
idiot. You talk poetry to my daughter
and meet her clandestinely, will you ?”
and then the old man elevated one boot
and Alphonso plaintively groaned out
“Ugh!” The the old man lifted the
other and Alphonso shrieked “Good
heavens!” Then the old man shook
him for a few seconds and then gave
him a shove which fient him bang up
against a tree, and Alphonso bellowed,
“ Murder ! police !” The old man then
took bis daughter’s arm and marched
her off home, and when he got the
young lady there he said in a gentle
tone of voice, “Look here, I’ve told
you if I caught that young man in your
company I’d mash him. I have mashed
him. Now if I ever caleh you in the
company of that young mm I’il publio
ly spank you, hang me if I don’t.” The
lovers haven’t met since that evening,
In God W'e Trust.
and it isn’t likely that there’ll De an
elopement. Alphonso doesn’t want a
man in his family so emphatic in his
tokens of regard as the old gentleman.
And the young lady would certainly die
of shame if the old man kept his word.
And he’s just the sort of man to do it.
A Neapolitan Penny Theater.
There is little satisfaction in moleing
about Herculaneum; let us enter one
of the modern play-houses of Naples,
where the fishermen nightly assemble to
witness dramas, the chief scenes of
which are displayed on the outside of
the building in a series of paintings of
the most harrowing description.
The night was excessively warm; I
had wandered down into a poor quarter
of the city, and seeing the flaming pic
tures in front of a house that no man in
his right mind would suspect of being
a temple of the Muses, and hearing a
fellow with a loud voice entreating the
public to enter aud see Shakespeare’s
magnificent tragedy of Romeo and
Juliet, I entered. For one franc and a
half I secured the proscenium box, into
which I was ushered with much cere
mony and not without creating a sensa
tion in the audience—a small sensa
tion, to be sure, but quite as large a one
as could be created in a house of such
diminutive proportions. I believe I
could have shaken hands with the party
of five in the box opposite, but for the
fact that they were packed so closely
that had any one of them made an ef
fort to move the box might have burst.
The small company engaged at this
theater doubled and trebled their parts
with astonishing agility. It was, on the
whole, an absurd performance, yet I
seemed to have many things in the play
made clear to me—the wheezing nurse,
the ill-humored father, the gushing
“Romeo” and the sensuous “Juliet,”
all were done naturally by Italians, who
have no doubt lived to the letter the ex
periences on which the play is founled.
Tho “ Friar” was just such a one as is
seen every hour in the streets of any
Italian city—a Capuchin with snuff
colored robe and sandals and a knotted
cord at the waist. The house was suf
focating, and it w;.s a relief to find the
fifth act wrung on at 8:30. Meanwhile
the chief actor had announced from the
stage the bill for the following night,
consisting of tragedy, comedy, ballet
and music—a combination which seemed
to fire the enthusiasm of the audience.
Some of the fishermen are evidently
not up in Shakespeare; for when the
prompter crawled half out of his
prompt-box in the center of the foot
lights, like a snail from bis shell, he was
greeted by one in the audience anxious
to know the number of acts in the play.
The prompter, with the air of one who
reveals a profound secret to a curious
but vacant mind, held up five fingers
and an arm stripped to the elbow, and
the whole house received the revelation
prcGounii -^.-ocoLi joy ——
Charles Warren Stoddard
In the “ Tiger's” Lair.
A correspondent of the London Times,
writing of the private gambling-house
at Baden, says : “ The shrine contains
two rooms, opening into each other, one
consecrated usually to trente et quar
ante, but in which faro and other games
of hazard are also played, and the other
devoted to roulette. They are very
quietly though comfortably furnished,
and the only thing that strikes one as at
( all unusual about them except, of
oourse, the tables—is that the various
pier-glasses are employed, of all odd
places in the world, for posting the pla
cards containing regulations with regard
to the different games and other official
notices. This novel use of a mirror
certainly looks like business, and pre
pares one for the discovery that no
ladies, whether ‘ from Paris’ or else
where, are admitted, as they are to the
hotel roulette-tables which I have in a
former letter discussed. Their presence
might lead to trifling and frivolities in
compatible with the serious objects of
the meeting. In the same earnest spirit
there is no flourishing about, as at the
hotel, of iced champagne. Any such
public house parade is carefully es
chewed, not merely as showy and vul
gar, bnt as a reflection on the game
itself, as tending to imply that the gen
uine gambler and gentleman has to be
tempted into losing his money by any
other excitement or pleasure than that
of the loss itself. But as, of oourse,
being human and reasonable, he must
drink, such simple and serious liquors
as brandy and soda, beer, and light
wines are provided without stint. I
have no doubt that anybody who liked
to ask for it could have champagne, or,
for the matter of that, Johaunisberg or
Tokay. Bnt there is very little drink
ing—wonderfully little, considering how
many Englishmen are in the room. The
courteous waiters, gliding swiftly and
noiselessly from chair chair, are gen
erally carrying only seltzer water or a
cigar. There is not, however, much
money—at least what an ordinary plain
man of business would oonsider money
—lying upon the tables. The small
strong box in the centre, over which the
noble host himself presides, may indeed
contain, for aught I know, untold mil
lions. But lying visibly about in con
fused heaps among the players, or near
the banker in carefully arranged rows,
are endless boD n counters, some plain
white, others tastefully inlaid with rings
of various colors, from led to the most
delicate mauve. Their intrinsic value
is not great—not more, perhaps, than
that of a bank note—and they look
charmingly innocent and pretty play
things for children. Still a good deal
of mischief may be done with them.”
—Some conception of what has been
achieved by the' iron discipline of the
German army may be had from this de
scription of the German military bow :
“ Imagine an oak plank, six feet in
height, with a hinge in the middle,
draw itself up to a perpendicular, and
with a quick movement snap the hinge
so that the upper part suddenly springs
forward and back again, and you wiil
have some idea of the gracefulness of
the executed movement, and of the
shock one has at first, when he fears
that the performer has been seized with
* sudden cramp that is about to get the
better of him at the very moment ho is
being introduced, and you wish to play
the agreeable.”
THERE’S MONEY IN BLOOD.
Pectierees o t the Old, Imported Thor
oughbreds
Indianapolis Journal.
The late rebellion furnished the very
strongest evidence of the superiority of
the “ blooded horse” over the cold
blooded animal, for it is an undisputed
fact that the horses that carried the
southern cavalrymen wete much better
campaigners than those taken from the
north to meet them. The cavalry
horses of the union army were gener
ally large-framed, h 'avy-bodied, coarse
-1 imbed, clumsy scrubs ; while those of
the south were medium-size, light,
clean-made, active, enduring, well bred,
and many of them thoroughbred. And,
although the former were much better
fed and cared for than their opponents,
they could not travel as many miles in a
day, as many days in succession nor
with as much ease to themselves and
rider. |
In the north and west * many consider
the fact that a horse was captured dur
ing the war, or his sire and dam came
from the south, sufficient evidenoe that
the animal is well bred, and incur mar
ket to-day a horse known to have been
bred in Kentucky or Tennessee, even
without a well-substantiated pedigree,
will sell for fifty per cent, more than
one bred in Indiana, though in size,
gait, age and general appearance there
may not be a particle of difference be
tween the two. And this is easily ac
counted for from the fact that it is gen
erally known that breeders in the south
have been our heaviest importers of
thoroughbreds from Europe, are devo
ted patrons of the turf, aDd would not
waste their time aud money in the pro
duction of an inferior animal.
Some of those who sneer at pedigrees,
and boast of their ability to discover
with the eye all the virtues or defects
that the horse can possess, are disposed
to question the purity of the blood of
the early importations, and argue that
as there was no American turf register
previous to 1829, there is no guarantee
for the fidelity of a pedigree that traces
back to an animal brought to this coun
try from Europe before that year. But,
unfortunately for this theory, Mr.
Bruce,-the compiler of the American
Stud Book, has obtained an abundance
of well substantiated docum ntary evi
dence to prove the authenticity of the
pedigrees claimed for all, or nearly all,
the horses imported before and since
the war for American independence.
Moreover, the very first importations
were of the very best, and nearest the
fountain head. As early as 1747, Mon
key, by the Lonsdale bay Arab, al
though twenty-one years old, crossed
the Atlantic and got some good stock,
and he was followed the next year by
Jolly Roger, by Roundhead, out of a
mare by Crott’s Partner. In England
he was called Roger of the Vale, and
his descendants there are highly prized.
Ho died its QrocsiTeillf* int-T* > - Yt U
-177A and in this country was consid
ered second only to the great Fear
naught, by Regtilus out of Silvertail,
who was imported into Virginia by Col.
John Baylor in 1764, and died in ’76,
twenty-one years old. In 1750 Lord
Baltimore presented Mr. Ogle, governor
of Maryland, with Spark, and about the
same time the governor imported Queen
Mab, by Musgrover’s gray Arab. Dar
ing this year Col. Tasker, of Maryland,
imported Selima, a daughter of the
Godolphin Arabian, and the dam of
Partner, Ariel, Stella, Ebony, Babra
ham, Little Jupiter, Black Selima,
Camilla and Selim. She was one of the
very best mares ever brought to the
country, and her blood is sought after
till this day. Then came Miss Colville,
known in the “ English Stud Book” as
Wilkes’ old Hautboy mare, Jenny Cam
eron, Routh’s Crab, Morton’s Traveler
by Partner, dam by Bloody Buttock’s
Arabian, and many others whose names
appear in the pedigrees of our modern
race horse.
The love of racing was soon im
planted in the colonies of Maryland and
Virginia, from whom it spread to North
and South Carolina, and, immediately
after their first settlement, Tennessee
and Kentucky imported some very cele
brated horses, and turf sport became
the most popular amusement. New
York joined in at a later period, al
though there was a small race course at
Newmarket and one at Jamaica before
the revolution. From 1800 to 1845 the
grent stables of the north and south were
carried on under a most honorable ri
valry ; but about this time the turf in
the north was abandoned by its princi
pal supporters, and racing was carried
on as a business, regardless of that
honorable spirit which had previously
distinguished it, bv professional train
ers and jockevs. In fact it may be said
that from 1845 to 1856 racing was en
tirely confined to the southern states,
where it continued to deserve and re
ceive the patronage of all classes of so
ciety up to the breaking out of the re
bellion.
The result of this difference in the
tastes and pursuits of the people north
and south is that the north, or at least
the northwest, have an abundance of
low-bred horses that cannot be sold
for enough to pay their raising, while
Kentucky and Tennessee—especially
Kentucky—attract buyers for their
s-ock, not only from every state in the
Union, but irom Europe and tiie Cana
das. It is no uncommon occurence for
a Kentucky yearling to sell for as much
money as would buy ten of our best
matured common horses. In Fayette
county, Kentucky, during one week in
October last, two hundred head of
yearling and weanling cobs were sold
for an a gregate sum of $70,000, being
an average of $350 a head. Dr. L.
Herr, near Lexington, Ky., during the
past three years has sold less than one
hundred colts, the get of Mambrino
Patcheti, for $125,000. L. L. Dor
sey, of Jefferson county, Ky.,
sells annually about $70,000 worth
of two and tliree-year-old Golddust
at an average price of $550 per
head. A. J. Alexander, of Wood
ford comity, Ky., sells auuuallv at
public auction about forty head of
thoroughbred vearlingsat prices ranging
irom S3OO to $2,500, and yearling colts
of trotting stock at an average price of
S4OO per head.
But we cannot even attempt to enu
merate all the sales made annually bv
such extensive breeders of fino. horses
as James Miller, of Bourbon county •
T. E. Moore, D. Swigert, of Woodford \
Payable in Advance,
J. W. Hunt Reynolds, of Frankfort;
the Bufords, Blackburns, Harpers,
Coleman 8, A. Keene Richards, Rich
ard West, Ten Broeck, Matt Clay, and
hundreds of others, who sell on private
terms, and often realize as much for a
single animal as many of cur farmer:
make on their stock during a life-time.
This state of affairs is not chargeable
to climate, for in this there is but little
difference between Indiana and Ken
tucky, and our lands produce the finest
bluegrass, as well as an abundance of
all other food required for growing
stock. It is not owing to poverty, for
our farmers have raised fine crops, for
which they have received high prices,
at least for the past fourteen years ; but
it is because they have stood in their
own light in ignoring the claims of
“blood”—because they ignorautly or
willfully refuse to recognize the advan
tages of breeding horses for all pur
poses from sources purified in the
alembic of the race-course.
We are pleased to see that a few in
telligent breeders in this state are
waking up to this interest, and intro
ducing some high-bred stallions and
mares; but a general revolution is
needed, and our citizens who purchase
horses for use can do much to bring it
about. Let them subserve their own
interests by purchasing from Kentucky
when in want of a roadster or carriage
horse, and these mongrel breeders may
be induced to change their tactics in
self-defense.
American Humor.
A critic of Aldrich’s “ Marjorie Haw,”
in the Revue des Leux Monces, says :
It is already several years since an in
creasing tendency of American litera
ture toward humor was pointed out in
the Revue. A competent judge was as
tonished at the very peculiar taste for
the lightest and most fantastic form of
wit in the most industrious and prac
tical people in the world, and he ex
plained it by an error common to self
love which makes each of us aspire
most particularly to that success for
which nature has not adapted him.
Perhaps upon that point he was wrong.
The brave and generous colonists who,
preceding the gold-hunters, went to
found upon a distant shoro the model
of democracies, brought away from
their native land with the manners and
Puritan ideas which still prevail in New
England, the pre-eminently English
quality which made the glory of the
Swifts and Sternes and Addisons, and
which, since the death of Charles Lamb,
seems decidedly to have emigrated to
America. It is true that the dissonances
and the incongruities whioh a severe
taste might see, even in the celebrated
essays of the seven teeth and eighteenth
centuries, are exagerated upon this new
soil, where it seems that all the needs,
from whatever source they come, germ
inate and develop with a sort of fury.
In the west, especially, humor, under
o. •({ t . rnces
and of the more energetio than refined
dashes of the mining population, sen
sibly dfeviates from the English exam
ple : it descends often through all the
shades, from the most shameless neo
logism to the most vulgar exaggeration.
The witty animation of Mark Twain,
the genius of a Bret Harte, have sue
ceeded, nevertheless, in ennobling this
incipient, still barbarous literature.
Of this we have already given the proof.
With Aldrich one finds himself in
entirely different regions, where the air
is more easily respirable for civilized
lungs—in the New England where
flourishes a quite as characteristic,
though perhaps a less original humor,
modified by taste, by traditions bor
rowed from old Europe, under the pen
of a numerous pleiades of writers,
emulators for imitators of Lowell and
W endell Holmes. The latter has taken
care already to explain to us that the
wit of the citizens of New England,
whioh is the old American, differs from
that of their countrymen of later origin,
as academic Boston itself would differ
from a Californian city, provisionally
built of wood and hastily painted.
Novel Expedient of Besieged Men.
A private letter from an officer at
Fort Sill, Indian territory, gives the
following account of an ingenious expe
dient adopted to aid some soldiers in a
strait: “ Corporal John Smith, of the
Fourteenth infantry, with fonr men,
was employed on some detail some twen
ty-five miles from this post. While
thus engaged he was surprised by a
body of some hundred or more mounted
Indians, he thinks either Kiowas or
Oomanchee, from this reservation. As
their purpose was unmistakably hostile,
he and his men lost no time in taking to
the only available shelter, an old buffalo
wallow, where, in a very uncomfortable,
constrained oosition, they managed to
protect their bodies and keep their ene
mies at a distance for the day and night.
The next morniDg, however, their suf
ferings for want of food and water be
came rather serious, and something had
to be done. Corporal Smith was equal
to the occasion ; taking a piece of his
own white shirt, the only substitute for
paper to be had, he wrote a note des
cribing their situation, secured it wi h
care to the neck of a small, shaegy,
mongrel dog which had followed then
from the fort; then battering up a car -
teen, he fastened it to the animal’s tail
and let him go. The dog, to quota the
corporal’s own expression, ‘ just hump
ed himself.’ The Indians, taking it to
be a mere act of bravado, I presume,
made to attempt to stop him, aud with
in two hours from the time he started
the dog reached the post. Succor was
immediately sent and the brave corpo
ral and his comrades brought in, the
Indians making off at the first sight of
the rescue party, at the distance of sev
eral miles.”
A Piute Prima Donna.
We yesterday saw a Piute maiden who
evidently felt that she was a Jong way in
advance of others of the tribe because
of her ability to sing a few words of an
English song. The song she saDg was,
“Soo Fly, donta bcdda my ! I feel, I
feel like a to morrow morning starra !
Soo Fly !” Her object appeared to be
to charm a few rotton apples from the
grasp of the keeper of a fruit stand,
but he being a native of melodious
Italy, was unable to see it, and even
scowled upon the maiden as though de
termined to nip such strolling talent in
the bud. — Virginia, {Nevada) Enter
prise,
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FACTS AND FANCIES.
—The beauty of Russia leather pock
et-books is that they’re never without a
scent in them, von know.
—A Virginia paper has noticed that
laws are changed as soon as the people
become familiar with them.
—At Cape May, the other day. nine
hundred snapping mackerel, weighing
over four tons, were captured at a
siugle haul.
—lnstances of men who go down on a
piece of orange-peel and get up and
think as much of themselves as they
did before are rare.
—A New York man has invented a
method of muking morocco out of dog
skin, but that’s nothing for a city where
they make butter out of painted water.
—A drowning Englishman in Minne
sota managed to throw bis pocket-book
and account-book out on the firm ice
before he went down for the last time,
—lf you want to know whether your
grandmother was cross eyed, or where
your great uncle stood in his arithmetic
olaas, just run for office and you’ll know
it all.
—ln Paris there are six hundred and
seventy-one women who serve as models
for painters and sculptors. The age of
the largest number is from sixteen to
twenty years.
—There are eight thousand men on
strike in the Pennsylvania coal region,
and they kill one another at the average
rate of five a day. If this continues, tin
afflicted community will have peace in a
little over four years.
—The tailor does not always preserve
he majestic appearance of his ps f ron.
Man, proud man, dressed in a King-
William overcoat and carrying home a
mackerel, is something never contem
plated by the tailor.
—A Galveston man who died the
other day left “ the sum of five thousand
dollars as a fund to defend persons who
kill southern railroad baggage smash
ers.” We won’t say that the man is in
heaven, but we believe he is near
enough to hear the best of the music.
—“ You see,” said a bar keeper, whose
hair went off to the left wit h a massive
curve like the baluster of a hotel stair
case, and whose diamond ring was worth
a monarch’s ransom, “there’s bar-keep
ers and again there’s bar-keepers. Some
of them ain’t fit except to jerk beer and
throw dead beats out of doors, but take
some of the artists and they’d make
Isaac Newton get behind a tree-box.
There's New York Tom ly —he never
han* ! s a glass, but just gives it a spin
on the marble I tell you it is worth
traveling a mile to see him sling a tum
bler. He used to smash S4O worth of
glass a week. He was old pie, he was.’ 8
—A paragraph stating that, in France,
straw lightning rods had been used
with great success for the protection
of buildings, Professor Henry Morton
n--.u r-crae csDoriro Ol, * ; '''. Ko
found that a straw ouerea t
the passage of electricity a million or
two times greater than that offered by
a copper wire of the same dimensions.
He says that he can only regard the
French straw theory as a canard, but
adds that if it had originated in New
Jersey he should have considered it
only as “the consequence of a verbal
ambiguity, as we know that ‘New Jer
sey lightning,’ moderately diluted, pass
es with great facility along a straw.”
—Mary Mapes Dodge writes these
pretty nursery rhymes :
Two little girls are better than one,
Two little boys can double the fun,
Two little birds can build a fine nest,
Two little arms can love mother best,
Two little ponies must go to a span,
Two little pockets has my little man,
Two little eyes to open and close,
Two little ears and one little nose,
Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet,
Two little shoes on two little feet,
Two little lips and one little chin,
Two little cheeks with a rose set in,
Two little shoulders, chubby and strong,
Two little legs running all day long.
Two little prayers does my darling say,
Twice does she kneel by my side each day—
Two little folded hands soft, and brown,
Two little eyelids cast meekly down—
And two little angels guard him in bed,
One at the foot and one at the he and.
—ln the memoir of Stanislas de Gi
rardin, who owned the dominion of
Ermenonville, there is an account of a
visit to that place of the first Napoleon.
At the tomb of Rousseau he said, as
recounted in the memoirs, “It would
have been better for the repose of
France if this man had never existed.”
“ Why ?” said De Girardiu. “He pre
pared the revolution,” said Napoleon.
“ It seems to me,” said the proprietor,
“ that it is not for you to complain of
the revolution.” “ Well,” said Napo
leon, *• the future will know if it would
not have been better for Franoe that
neither Rousseau nor myself had ever
existed.” He was then first consul.
—lt is rather curious, says a New
York letter, that the best billiard play
ers seemed to be of Celtic origin—
French or Irish. American players ac
count for this by asserting tba': it is be
cause they were all originally billiard
markers, and were therefore early and
continually trained to ile garni. 1 is
certainly true that this was the b rin
ring of Phelan, Cavanagb, Daly. S!os
sin and Tim Flyn, and the great French
players now in this country are said to
have had a similar origin. The foreign
ers retort on Dion and other American
players, with the assertion that it is not
practice or training they want, but
pluck and method. They criticise the
American habit of “nursing” the game
instead of making brilliant strikes and
daring dashes into the heart of the ene
my’s country.
—The Navajos a are remarkable peo
ple, and their history and advancement
in certain branches of skilled worl mar
ship have excited the curiogitv ci the
ethnologist and the historian. For over
200 years they have been known by
means of the curious blankets known
by their name; and there is the best au
thority for btating that they had sheep
among them at that remote period.
Gov. Arny states that he has been told
by some aged men of tho nation that
at a very remote period sheep were
brought into their country from the
northwest in tho direction of Behring’s
straits. In 1849, when Gen. A W. Don
iphan went through the Navajo- coon ry
in his expedition to Old Mexico, he
procured a number of the blankets pud
other specimens of manufacturing skill,
which he seat to Washington, where
they attracted a good deal of attention
and were considered a great curiosity'