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THE MONROE Mm* ADVERTISER.
GEORGE A. KING & GO.
VOL. XX I 11.
Drugs. Etc.
UwWrFm
tftXPECTORAHT-J
l i ls* most K-nial balsam ever ut.hl bjr
ti In r*r from iiulmoiiitrv <ll sea si*,
tl i. .>mj>o'*'<l <f herbal jirodiu ls, which
l>.iv< i -|<-ciflc on the throat and
ImiKx; ili'UrliH from tto. air ceils all ir
iilatiuc matter; rmiHCH it to be expecto-
I ill'll. :iml atones checks the tnllainmatton
u lilrb liriMluctD the rough. A -.illicit- dux*
I' lino the niokt ilUtn-xxiiiK imruxysui.
soothe* nervOtisnei-M, an<l enable* the uf
ferer to e.ijoj ijulet re:.t at night. Ileinif a
l.h aHant cordial, It tones the weak xtoili
:. ii, and is specially recommended for
* hlldren.
What others say about
K Tutt’s Expectorant .
Had Asthma Thirty Years,
lIAUTIMORK, FtklUfiry J, 1'475-
“I have had Asthma thimy y<Htra, a mine Ver found
a n< GKine that had such a happv ertec't,”
W. F. HOGAN, Chrlj St.
A Child's Idea of Merit,
New Okmianx, A'ovem/er n, ifvj6.
“TuttV Expectorant is a familiar name ill my house,
My wile thinks it the best medicine in the world,
nnil the children fay it is ‘nicer than molasses
candy.’ ” NOAH WOODWARD, 101 N. Poydr** St.
“Six, and all Croupy.”
“ f sun the mother of six children ; all or them have
hoe 11 croupy. Without Tull’s Expectorant, I don't
think they could have survived tome of the attacks.
It is a mother's blessing, ”
MARY STEVSNS, Frinkfort, Ky.
A Doctor’s Advice.
4 ‘ In my practice, I advise all families to keep Tutt’s
I xpcrtorant, in auddt n emergencies, for coughs,
croup, diphtheria, etc."
T. P. ELLIS, M.D., Newark, N. J.
Sold hi) nil druyylulii. J‘rir<• S I.OO . Oj]ic
.'i s Murray Street, New York.
■IPI
"THE TREE IS KNOWN EY ITS FRUIT.”
4t TuttV I’ills nrt* worth their weight in gold.’'
< REV. I. R. SIMPSON, Louisvillo, Ky.
** Tutt’s Pills hp* n sj t i.il blessing of the nine
teenth century. F. R. OSGOOD, New York,
“ I have uael Tutt* PiHs Tor torpor of the liver.
They art superior to any medicine lor biliary dis
orders ever made. M
I. P. CARR, Attorney a! Law, Augusta, Ga.
“ I have i:sed Tuft’s Pills live years in my ftmiilv,
Tin are uneijiialed foreostivenessttiid biliousness."
f. R WILSON, Georgetown, Texas.
“I have used Tutt's. McUit inc with great benefit.’*
W. W. MANNf Mobile Register.
“We sell dMV boxes''Tull's Pills to five of all
i>th t ” —SAYRE & CO. Cartersvillo, Qa.
“ i utt’s Pills have only to be tried to establish
then merit*. Th. v work like ma-if.’’
VV. H. BARRON, 9fi Summer St., Boston.
“ l lu re is no medirine .no well iidnntcd to the cure
of billons disorders ns Tull’s PilK”
JOS. BRUMMEL, Richmond, Virginia.
AND A THOUSAND MORE.
Sold by drunylsts. V 5 rents a box, Ojjlca
J 5 Murray Street, ISew York •
TUTTSPJRDYEi
INDOHSim
HIGH TEST?TyI ONY.
Flui.V TUK l’ icn • !<i> ’it ''•//., &•'
, A GREAT INVENTION
lias lieen Mimic In Hi: T i it, of New York, ;S
"liii-li rc-toic-i \mithliil lu-ault b tin- bail', ink
That .'in I lieu t c belli i-t In. suri'i fib and In &3
prnduclng a Hair Dye which imilalcs
nalnri. to per foe I ion. <ild Imihclnr. may fl
l'riee SI.OO. Oflle* .”! > Murray St.,
AVtl' York. Sold hy all druyyist a. h
|jjsflsj|froePGH, GOLD
Or Sore Throat
REQUIRES
IMMEDIATE ATTENTION.
A contiimncc for any length of time, causes
irritation of the Lungs, or some chronic Tnroat
affection. Neglect oftentimes results in some
incurable Luug disease. Brown’s Bronchial
Troches have proyert their efficacy,by a test of
many years, and will almost give immediate
relief. Obtain only Brown’s Bronchial Troches
and do not take any of the imitations that may
be offered. dee 4 4in.
FOXTTZ’S
HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS,
Aro unequaled for the oiWe end prevention ol
tL. i'.uis in Ilorsos. Oettle, Ilona. Sheep, and fowls.
DAVIDS. FOUTZ,Prop..Baltimore. Md.
For sale by F O MAYS
B. M. Woolley’s The Ualut of using Morpliiuo,
0. . Hum Opium, Laml&i.um or Elix
i mil less ir of (>pluin cured painlessly. by
Aiueiiican tin* Improved remedy.
D , || Mauul;„:turv.i nt Atfauii, u. 1.,
, ‘ ** reduced Prices **-
t urt or ea in hundreds of cases, Guar-
A _ i : a _ , . .autced, Particulars t HKE. Ad
£l It Li UOI C < dross U. M. Weolley, Atlanta lia
GREENBACKS
FOR BOND HOLDERS!!
GKKKNBACKS
FOR GOLD GAMBLERS!
GREENBACKS'
FOR NATIONAL BANKERS!
GREENBACKS
FOR THE PEOPLE !
GREENBACKS
POR ALL PURPOSES!
For which money is used interehangable at
par w ith Gold and Silver, in a sufficient quan
tity as to promote industry, invite immigration
and develop the resources of the country, (is
what tue
:< IM IXXATI EXQUIREU
Claims is the only remedy for the ills brought
upon the country by Legislation and Laws, en
acted for the benefit of a Monied Class, and the
oppression of Labor and Industry.
Government Credit sustains our Bonds for
the benefit of the wealthy, let the Credit
Sustain Greenbacks
For the benefit of the People who sustain the
Government.
Dally Enquirer, por year, $12,00
Weekly Enquirer, 11 *, IE
Free o? postage.
Agents wanted.
Send for specimen copies.
F4RAV A. tIeLEt.Y Publisher*
o.
BRICK WORK AND PLASTERING.
——
O. F. Evans, Contractor,
MACON, 0.A.-
ORDEItS from any part of the State
promptly attended to. Address me. Care
JE W ETT Sc ROGERS, Macon Ga. inch 122 t
UNJrstLY COXDEJI.VED
A Starllini; Cane of Dceepllve C’lr
<ll mat initial Evidence —Terrible
Consequences of a I.ovc Quarrel.
On tiie 13th of January, 1871. the people of
Moscow, in Russia, were terribly startled by
the news that Adolph,Count Nostikoff, a young
nobleuian, and the prospective heir of vast es
tites in the central part of the Empire, had
been found murdered, shortly after daybreak,
near a small garden-house belonging to the
conn try seat of Voles] ar Btaniroy, a wealthy
merchant of Moscow.
Tlic unfortunate young gentleman had evi
dentiy been stabbed to death in the garden
house itself, for not only had hi3 warm life
blood stained its walls and tioor—and the tell
tale crimson spots led ali abross the snow to
the outer gate of the garden where he had
sunk to the ground and expired—but there
was also found in the garden house a small
pointed knife, the blade of which was blood
stained. It \yn* evidently the instrument with
which
THK STAItTMNtt MKbg
had been committed.
The police authorities were speedily on the
spot and so were the relatives of the murdered
man. In the pockets of Count Nostikoffs
coat were found two crumpled notes signed
“ Aliflrt,” and threatening him with direct
consequences in case he did not surrendar
certain letters. It was at onpe ascertained
that these two notes had been written by
Alida, the young daughter of the proprietor
of Hie country seat, Voleslar btaniroy.
She was sent for, and became intensely
tated on beholding the stiff, fvosen corpse of
the Count.
“Are those [notes in your handwriting?”
asked the highest of the police officers pres
ent.
“Thej’ are,” she replied in a feeble voice.
“When did you see the deceased last?”
“About eight o’clock last night,” she an
swered blushing to the roots of her hair.
“Where was that ?”
“In the garden house,” she whispered almost
inaudibly
“Do vou know this knife?” demanded the
officer, exhibiting to her the blood-stained
knife.
Alida Staniroy cast a wild glance upon it.
Then she uttered a shriek and fainted.
Her father, who caught her in his arms,
murmured, in a tone of despair:
“It is my daughter’s knife!”
When the young girl had been restored to
consciousness she succeeded, by an extraordi"
uary effort in regaining her presence of mind.
This iscertuinly my knife,” she said, rap
idly ; nor do I deny that I wrote these notes
to Count NostikoiT and met him at the garden
house last night; but I
RWF.AH, MOST SOLEMNLY
that he and I parted company without any
ill feeling toward one another, and that I had
nothing whatever to do with his assassination.
As she uttered these words the beautiful
and spirited girl laid her hands upon the
corpse, and then, lifting her eyes to heaven,
exclaimed, in a thrilling tone:
“Adolph, my slain lover, coulds’t thou
speak now, thou xvouldst at once testify to my
innocence cf thy murder!”
This wes very impressive but it did not con
vince either the officers or the relatives of the
deceased.
The former took Alida, whose firmness
seemed almost wonderful under the circum
stances, to the parlor of her father’s house and
summoned thither the other inmates of the
latter. Among them was the coachman, Ivan
Dulizurok, and Alida’s French maid, Marie
Verin.
* This maid was a prepossing young woman
of twenty-five and endowed with the most in
sinuating manners- She seemed to watch the
proceedings with the most painful anxiety,
and repeatedly spoke words of encouragement
to Mile. Alida.
The latter was asked to state what her rela
tions to the deceased had been.
She unswered frankly, but modestly:
“ Count Adolph had for two years past
been
MV SACRED I.OVKR.
This was well known to my father, who dis
approved of it, because he said the Count was
a bad man. I asserted the contrary, and fre
quently had altercations with my father on
the subject. On the day before yesterday, my
father told me that I had almost every night
interviews with Count Adolph at the garden
house—that he would put a stop to this inter
course, and that he would prove to me that
the Count was utterly unworthy of niv love
He made me promise to abandon my lover if
he should adduce sufficiently convincing proof
to the above affect. I agreed to this.”
** Did your father furnish such proof ?" in
quired the officer.
Alida hesitated a moment, then she said
slowly:
“ I took them as such at first.”
“Whatdid they refer to?”
“I refuse to answer this question,” she said
firmly.
“ You must answer it,” replied theoffieer.
“I shall keep silence even though that si
lence shall lead me to the scaffold.”
The officer waived the question then told
her to proceed with her former narrative.
“What my father told me,” she continued,
“I am free to confess, filled me with intense
indignation, against my lover. I wrote to him
those two notes, insisting upon the return of
all the letters 1 had written him. In reply he
solicited an interview with me at the garden
house. I consented to meet him there. He
arrived between seven and eight o’clock in the
evening. Our interview was long, and at first
quite stormy. However, his protestations of
love and what he said beside overcame niv
indignation. I finally promised to remain true
to him, and we parted in the most affectionate
manner.'’
“But how do you account for this knife of
yours being found in the garden house under
such suspicious circumstances ?”
“I am utterly at a 1039 to understand how it
got there. I generally kept it on my writing
desk in my boudoir. It is horrible beyond
expression to thiuk that this knife of mine
should have be*-n used for so fetrful a pur
pose. lam utterly bewildered about it.
Her father' was next examined. He con
firmed all his daughter bad said about her al
tercation with him in regard to Count Nosti
tiknff; but he, too, refused to reveal the charges
FORSYTH. GEORGIA, TUESDAY MORNING, APRIL 30, 1878.
he had preferred against the lover’s character.
Then the coachman was called up.
“I knew the Count very well,” he said; “ in
effect, I carried Mile. Alula’s notes to him, and
brought back his answers. 1 gave him those
two notes, and he gave me another, in which,
as he told me, he begged her to meet him at
the garden house.
“How came to make such a confidante
of you?”
“ Because I lmd watched frequently when
they were in me gaidtja-huUJe ( gq Jbat no one
disturbed them."
“ Did you see him lust night?”
“ I did.”
“Together with Mile. Alida?”
“ Yes; she had fold pie Jo watch, and pre
vent anyone to come Dear them.”
“ Did anyone come? ”
“Yes; Marie Verin, Mademoiselle Alida’s
maid-”
“ Did you speak to Marie Yerin 9 ’*
“ Yes; I caught her stealing up to the gar
den-house I asked her w hat she was doing
there. The answered that master had sent
her out to watch his daughter. She became
very angry, and threatened that M- Stauiroy
would liakG ne i?ogge<J jf I interfered with
her. This frightened me ami 1 ran back into
the bouse ”
The French maid in Iter testimony made
some
STARTLING DISCLOSURES.
She answered the questions of the examin
ing officer at first with seeming reluctance and
did not become q more willing witness until
she had been threatened with severe punish
ment. Then site said, with a very glili tongue:
“ Well, as 1 cannot help it, I w ill tell all I
know, although lam sorry for Mile Alida. M.
Stainiroy asked me last night to watch the
garden-house, as I had often done before at
his request. About eight o’clock I saw the
Countenter she gaiden-house, where he was
shortly after joined by Mile. Alida. J could
hear distinctly wliaf they said. Mite Alida
called him a perfidious villain, and said that
she had thought of murdering him. He beg
ged her to calm herself, but she seemed to
work herself into a perfect frenzy, and then
I heard him utter a low cry, and say: ‘Alida,
how could you do this?’ At that moment I
was interrupted by Ivan Dulizurok, with
whom J had words. Not desiring to quarrel
with the fellow any mope, I returned to my
room and went to bed."
“ You did not see or hear Mile Alida return
to the house ?”
“No; I was awake a good while yet, but
hid not hear her.”
“ Did you communicate what you heard and
saw to M. Stauiroy?”
“ No; he was not at home.”
Things began to look very black for Alida
Stauiroy. Her father broke into loud lamen
tations, She herself remained calm.
“ I did not know," she said, with a disdain
ful glance at her French maid, “that Marie
Verin was
ACTING TIIE SPY
toward me. But I must say that all she said
about my interview with Count Adolph is true
except that the Count did not use the words,
‘ How could you do this?’ All I can do is to
reiterate the protestation of my perfect inno
cence of this foul murder, no matter how sus
picious everything may look for me.”
All this was very sad; but what were the
offic'-rs to do but to take the young lady to jail
on a charge of murder? Alida accompanied
them willingly. Her fortitude excited the sur
prise and admiration even of her jailers.
The affair created naturally a most profound
sensation in the ancient Cupital of the Czars.
For a week no one spoke about anything else.
Notwithstanding the seemingly overwhelming
circumstantial evidence against Alida Stani
ruy, opinion was greatly divided on the sub
ject; and among those who doubted her guilt
none were more outspoken than tlmse who
were acquainted both with her and her mur
dered lover. The latter’s character had been
none of the best. Alice Staniroy, on the other
hand, was known as a superior woman, en
dowed with a good heart and a splendid intel
lect. She was by no means an impulsive crea
ture, and there was no apparent motive for
her committing so
HEINOUS A CRIME.
The supposition that Count Nostikoff had
committed suicide was refuted by the nature
and position of his wounds
The trial came off on the 22d of March,
1871, and notwithstanding the efforts made by
the eminent counsel of the fair prisoner, the
couit found her guilty, and sent her to perpet
ual banishment to Siberia. There was a
heart rending scene in Court as this terrible
sentence was pronounced. Alida’s father
flung himself on the floor in a paroxysm of
despair, tearing his grey hair, and uttering the
most piteous cries. The daughter turned pale,
hut said in a firm voice:
“ INNOCENTLY CONDEMNED ! ”
Well, she was sent onto Irkutsk, whither
her father accompanied her, and nothing was
heard from them until quite recently an event
occurred which put an entirely different face
upon the somber affair.
On the 19th of November, 1873, there ap
peared before the Chief of Police of Moscow,
a young woman rather flashily dressed, and
bearing in her face a troubled and careworn
expression.
It was Marie Verm, formerly the maid of
Alida i>taniroy. and the principal witness
against her at her trial for the murder of Count
Adolph Nostikoff. She had evidently gone to
the bail, and, indeed, had become, since the
conviction of her mistress, the inmate of a
house of ill-fame in Moscow. She told the as
tonished dignitary the following
SHOCKING TALE!
“ Mile. Alida told the truth. She did not
muder Count Nostikoff; I killed him myself.
After leaving the coachman in the garden, I
went to Mile. Aiidu’s boudoir in order to get
a >hawl, because it was very cold in the garden
I saw her knife on her writing desk, and took
it with me for protection in case the coachman
should meet me again in the gatden and in
suit me. Then I went back to the garden, but
did not finJ anybody there. At the garden
house Count Nostikoff, who was just going to
leave the place, caught sight of me. He has
tened toward me, and before I was able to
resist, dragged me into the garden-house.
There he tried at once to do violence to me.
I struggled as best I could, but no one heard
my cries. He was very strong, ray dress was
torn, my strength was about giving away, and
then I drew the knife and struck him twice
“’ll! GrOd we Trust *’
with it. He staggered back with a cry, and I
fled hurriedly back to the bouse. This is the
whole truth. My remorse since Kile. Alida’s
conviction lias been intense. I have led a
wretched life ever since, t hope God will
forgive me."
After investigating the case again very care
fully, the criminal authorities came to the con
clusion that Marie Verin told the truth; The
matter was communicated to the Emperor,
who immediately pardoned Alida Staniroy.
tfiie Stiver !£lhss—The Th/ffi nifti
est men In America.
[New York Star.]
Seven years ago there were two Irishmen in
the pity of San Francisco keeping $ drinking
bar of very modest pretensions, cloal to one of
thp principal business thoroughfare*. Their
customers were of all kinds, but chiefly.qomJ
ffigrcjal men and clerks. Among them wM an
unusually large proportion of stock and share
dealers, mining brokers and the like, who, in
the intervals of speculation, iushed out of the
neighboring Exchange five or six times a day
for drinks. Whisky being almost the religion
of California, and the two little bar-keepers
neiiig careful to sell none but tbo best urticle,
their bar soon became a place of popular re
sort. And as no true Californian could ever
swallow a drink of whisky under any circum
stances without talking about silver mines or
gold mines or shares in mines, it soon fell out
that, next to the Stock Exchange itself, there
was no place in San Fwcisco wllfft- so ffivtch
mining talk went on as in the saloon of Messrs
Flood & O’Brien, which were the names of
tiie two. Keeping their ears wide open, and
sifting the mass of gossip that they listened to
every day, these two gentleman picked up a
good many crumbs of useful information, be
sides getting novy and tljen a confidential tip;
and they turned some of them to such good
account in a few quiet little speculations that
they shortly had a comfortable sum of money
lying at their bankers. Instead of throwing it
away headlong in wild, extravagant ventures,
which was the joyous custom of the average
Californian in those days, they let it lie where
it was, waiting, with commendable prudence,
till they knew of something good to put it
into. They soon heard of something good
enough. On Fair’s advice they bought shares
in a mine called tbe Hale and Norcross, and
wore speedily taking out of it 15,000 pounds
a month in dividends. This mine was the
property of a company, and though it had at
one time paid large and continuous dividends,
it was now supposed to be worked out and
worthless. Mr. Fair, however, held a different
opinion; and when be came to examine it
carefully be found what be expected to find—
a large deposit of silver ore. Thereupon he
and Flood and O’Brien together bought up all
the shares they could lay their hands upon, and
obtained complete control of the mine.”
Besides being a clever and experienced
miner, Mr. Fair entertained the belief that by
patient examination into holes and corners of
ilie mine he would discover a gigantic vein of
silver-bearing ore. He discovered tbe vein,
the estimated value of which was -$120,000,000.
In the excitement caused by this astounding
discovery it is scarcely more than the hard
trutli to say that San Francisco went raving
mad. The vein in which the Bonanza was
found was known to run straight through the
Consolidated Virginia and California Mines,
dipping down as it went, and could not be
traced any further. But that fact was noth
ing to people who were bent on having min
ing stock ; and vein or no vein, the stock they
would have. Consequently they bought into
every mine in the neighborhood—good and
bad alike—sending prices up to unheard of
limits, and investing millions in worthless
properties that have never yielded a shilling
in dividends, and never will. When Flood
had bought a large quantity of the Bonanza
Btock.and had assured to himself and his part
ners the controlling interest In the mines, he
recommended all Ids friends to buy a little,
and O’Brien did the same. Those who took
the advice are now drawing their proportion
ate shares of dividends, amounting to about
$500,000 a month. The majority of those
who bought into other mines are, in California
parlance, “busted.” What these three men
and their latest partner, Mackey, are going to
do with their money, is a curious problem, the
solution of which will be watched with great
interest in a year or two to come. The money
they hold now is yielding them returns so
enormous that their madast extravagance could
make no impression on the amount.
The Chicago Times of Wednesday morning
had a long account of alleged improper con
duct and scandalous proceedings of the Epis
copal Bishop, Allen McCoskey, of Michigan.
The substance of the story is that for a long
time he has had improper relations with a
young girl whom he had educated and sup
ported, and whom he recently married to a
young man of Detioit named Bannister, who
discovered the guilt of McCoskey and indi
rectly through him the matter has reached the
public. The proof of the story lies in numer
ous and broadly suggestive letters, written by
McCoskey to the girl. Fanny Richards; in his
sudden resignation to the committee of the
diocese; in the confused denial which he made
to the committee in his acknowledgement of
unusual Intimacy with the girl; in his identi
fication <>f some of the letters; in his sudden
departure for Europe, and in the reticence of
the dignitaries of the Episcopal Church, who,
although they do not affirm the story, refuse
to deny it. On the other hand, the stories are
so little authenticated that they cannot be said
to be more than rumors at present Bishop
McCoskey denies the whole story, and declares
he resigned on account of ill health and old
age, and points to a life of rectitude for sev
enty-four years as his vindication.
Two years ago she graduated, and her essay
was upon “ The Glorious Future." “ Let us
strive to emulate the example of the nobility
of past generations,” she said, “ and let our
aspirations direct us toward the accomplish
ment of exalted deeds, and our reward shall
be given us in the true, the beautiful, and the
good.” A few days ago she was lying on the i
sofa readiug the last insipid novel; she had
on an old dress, her hair was uncombed, and
* hole in the heel of the stocking added to her !
picturesque appearance, while her mother was
out in the kitchen doing the week’s washing,
and culling in vain for assistance. The noble
girl!
A VEGETABLE DEVIL.
Tlie Man-Eating Tree of Madagas
car.
The following description of this ingnU r
tree, found in the island of Madagascar, was
originally published in the last Graefe and
'v alther’s Magazine of Carisrulie, together
with notes upon it, by Dr. Omelins Fredlow
ski, to whom the letter by Carl Lecbe, the dts
coverer, from which the following is extracted,
was addressed; Mkodoa are a very prim
itive race, going entirely naked, having only
faint vestiges of tribal relation, and no relig
ion beyond that of the awful reverence winch
they pay to the sacred tree. . dwell
tirely in caves hollowed out of41)0 limestone
rocks in their hills, and areoovdl the sttfelH
est races, the men seldom exceeding fifty-U
inches in*Jseight-, A l the bottom, of a valley
(I had no, barometer, but should net think it
over 400 feefabove tße sea, and near Its east
ern extremity), we came to a ( deep
lake, about a mile in the sluggish
waters of which overflowed into a tortuous
reedy canal that went unwillingly into the re
cesses of a black forest, jupgle below, palm
above. A path, diverging from its southern
side, struck boldly for the heart of the forbid
ding and seemingly impenetrable forest. Hen
rick led the way along the path, I followed
closely, and behind me a curious rabble of
Mkodos men, women and children. Suddenly
all the natives began to cry “ TepeJ sepe I”
ttfld Heurick, stopping short, said, “Look!”
The ; sluggish, canal-like stream here wound
slowly by, and in a bare spot ihits bend was
the most singular of trees. I have called it
the Crinoda, because when its leaves are iu
action it bears a striking resemblance to that
well-known fossil, flip efinoid lilystone of St
Cuthbert’s heads. It is now at rest, however.
I will try to describe it to you. If you can
imagine a pineapple eight feet high, and thick
in proportion, and resting upon its base, and
denuded of leaves, you will have a good idea
of the trunk of the tree, which, however, was
not the color of the anana, but a dark, dingy
brown, and apparently hard as iron. From
the apex of this truncated cone (at least two
feet in diameter) eight leaves hung sheer to
the ground, like doors swung back on their
bingos. These leaves, which were joined at
the top of the tree at regular intervals, were
about eleven or twelve feet long, and shaped
very much like the American agave, or centu
tury plant. They were two feet through in
their thickest part, and three feet wide, taper
ing to % sharp point that looked like a cow’s
horn, very convex on the outer (but now under)
surface, and on the inner (now upper) surface
slightly conpave- This concave face wa 8
thickly set with very strong, thorny hooks,
like those upon the head of the teazel. These
leaves, hanging thus limp and lifeless, dead
green in color, had in appearance the massive
strength of the x>ak fiber. The apex of the
cone was a round, white concave figure, like a
smaller plate set within a larger one. This
was not a flower, but a receptacle, and there
exuded into it a clear treacle liquid, honey
sweet.and possessed of violent intoxicating and
soporific properties. From underneath the
rim, so to speak, of the undermost plate, a se
ries of long, hairy, green tendrils stretched in
every direction toward the horizon. These
were seven or eight feet long each, and tapered
from four inches to a half inch in diameter,
yet they stretched ont stiffly as iron rods.
Above these (from between the upper and
under cup) six white, almost transparent pal
pi reared themselves toward the sky, twirling
and twisting with a marvelous incessant mo
tion, 3 r et constantly reaching upward. Thin
as reeds and frail as quills apparently, they
were yet five or six feet tall, and were so con
stantly and vigorously in motion, wiili such a
sinuous, silent throbbing, throbbing against
the air that they made me shudder in spite of
myself with their suggestion of serpents flayed
yet da.icing on their tails. The description I
am giving you now is partly made up from a
subsequent careful inspection of the plant.
My observation on this occasion were sud
denly interrupted by the natives, who bad
been shrieking around the tree in their shrill
voices, and chanting what Henrick told me
were propitiatory hymns to the great devil
tree. With still wilder shrieks and chants they
surrounded one of the women, and urged her
with the points of their javelins until slowly
and with despairing face she climbed up the
stalk of the tree, and stood on the summit of
the cone, the palpi twirling all about her.
“Tisk! tisk!” (drink! drink!) cried the men,
and stooping, she drank of the yiscid fluid in
the cup, rising instantly again with wild fren
zy in her face, and convulsive cholera in her
limbß. But she did not jump down as she
seemed to intend to do. Oh, no! The atro
cious cannibal that had been so inert and dead
came to sudden, savage life. The slender,
delicate palpi, with the fury of starved serpents,
quivered for a moment over her head ; then,
as if by instinct, with demoniac intelligence,
fastened upon her in sudden coils round and
round her neck and arms; then, while her
awful screams and yet more awful laughter
rose wilder to be instantly strangled down
again into a gurgling moan, the tendrils, one
after another, like great green serpents, with
brutal enerery and iufernal rapidity, rose, re
tracted themselves, and wrapped her about in
fold after fold, ever tightening, with the cruel
swiftness and savage tenacity of anacondas
fastening upon their prey. It was the barbar
ity of the Laocoon without its beauty—this
strsnee, horrible murder. And now the great
leaves rose slowly and stiffly like the arms of
a derrick, erected themselves in the air, ap
proacliing one and another, and closed about
the dead and hampered victim with the silent
force of an hydraulic press and the ruthless
purpose of a thumb screw. A moment nice
and while I could see the bases of the great
leaves pressing more tightly toward each oth
er, from their interstrices there trickled down
the stalks streams of the blood and oozing
viscera of the victim. At the sight of t iis the
savage hordes around me, yelling ai idly,
bounced f rwntrd, crowded to the tree, clasped
it, and with cups, leaves, hands, and longue-*
got each one enough of the liquor to send him
mad and frantic Then ensued a i>nl>*qtle
and indescribably hideous orgv, from which,
even while its convulsive madness wa® run
ning rapidly into delirium and insensibility.
Henrick dragged me hurriedly sway into | e
recesses of the forest, hiding me frun Hie dan
gerous brutes and the brutes from me. May I
never see such a sight again. #
The •* CwH Mm.”
A pa! of very nfcMfcr
Encased in acarlt lio*e;
A pair of little stubby boots.
With rather doubtful tow;
A little kilt, a little coat.
Cut as a mother
And lo! before us strides, in state,
The Future’s”combg mau."
His eyes, perchance, will read Dm Mare,
And search the unknown ways;
Perchance the human heart and soul
Will open to their gaze;
Perch a noe their keen and flashing glance
Will be a nation’s light—
Those eyes that now are wistful bent
, On some “ big fellow’s” kite.
That brow where mighty thoughts will dwell
• <i n solemu, secret state,
Iff hen fierce Ambition's restless strength
. I Shall war with future fate;
When Science from now bidden caves
New treasures shall outpour—
Tis knit now, with a troubled doubt-
Are two or three cents more?
Those lips that, in the coming years,
Will plead, or pray, or teach;
aWlwso whispered words, on lightning flash
r root world to world may reach ;
That, sternly grave, may speak command,
Or, smiling, win control—
Are cosxing now for ginger-bread
With all a baby’s soul.
1 hose hands—those little, busy hands—
So sticky, small and brown ;
hands whose only mission seems
To tear all order down—
te*. knows whttt hidden strength may lie
( W ithm their future grasp,
Though now ’tis but a taffy-stick
In sturdy hold they clasp ?
'Ah ! blessings on those little bands,
Whose work is yet undone;
And blessings on those little feet,
Whose race is yet unrnn ;
And blessings on the little brain
That has not learned to plan !
Whate’er Hie Future holds in store
God bless the “coming man!” '
W— - -r-
Confuclnn Crumb*.
Be severe to yourself, and indulgent to oth
ers ; you thus avoid all resentment.
The wise man makes equity and justice the
basis of all his conduct; the right forms the
rule of his behavior; deference and modesty
mark his exterior; sincerity and fidelity serve
him for accomplishments.
Love virtue, aud the people will be virtuous ;
the virtue of a great man is like the wind; the
virtue of the humble is like the grass; when
the wind passes over it, the grass inclines its
head.
Children should practice filial piety at home
and fraternal deference abroad; they should
be attentive in their actions, sincere and true
in their words, loving all with the whole force
of the affection.
Return equity and justice for evil done to
you, and pay goodness.
W ithout the virtue of humanity one can
neither be honest in poverty, no contented in
abundance.
Real virtue consists in integrity of heart
and loving your neighbor as yourself.
What I desire that others should do to me,
I equally desire not to do to them.
Think not of faults committed ,in the past,
when one has reformed his conduct.
llrudder Gardner’s Opinion.
Some fokes bab got de impresshun dat de
man wat does de mos’ whoopin’ and yellin’ an’
attracks de mos’ uttenshun am de chap wot
makes de bigges’ pile o’ cash, but doan’ you
belieb it! De empty wood wagon makes five
times de noise dat de costly kerridge does .De
burdock takes up ten times de room dut de
tulip does, but de tulip bez de bulge on de bur
dock when it conies down to beauty and mar
ket value. De modest man liez all de bizness
chances dat de forward man hez ; he keeps on
gainin’ de respect of de woruld, and bimeby
he crawls to de top ob de hen coop, while de
blowhard rolls inter de ditch. Modesty am
its own reward. It am capital in de bank; it
ain first mortgage on improved real estate; it
am a purty fa’r sort o’ religun. Stan back!
Doan’ try to git dar befo’ all de rest. Doan’
be shootin’ off dem tnoufs for de simple sake
of usin’ up yer spar time. As de poet says :
“ De big sunflower may rise above
De modest ’tater vine.
An’ brag about its Sunday clothes,
An’ put on airs so fine;
But when de winter howls around,
And de snow lies at the dnali,
De big sunflower, oli! whar am be—
De ’tater hez de fioah!’’
—Oil City Eerrick.
>.
Lake Michigan has hei Grace Darling, and
her father and brothers are us biave and hero
ic as site is herself. Sanford W Morgan is
keeper of the life saving station at Grand Point
au Sable, Michigan, and after the dose of nav
igation he allows the crew to go away for the
winter, but remain on the ground with his
daughter and his sons. At daylight on March
23, during one of the most violent gales of the
season, with the sea so boisterous that it waa
covered with foam, a fishing boat was discov
ered about three miles off shore, in distress, by
Miss Edith. Quickly giving the alarm to her
father and two brothers, she urged them to go,
volunteering to take an oar herself to assist
the crew. It seemed us though a boat could
not possiMy live in the mighty waves, but one
was launched, and, after a pull of two hours,
with seas breaking over the small boat and
threatening its destruction and the loss of these
on board, they succeeded in reaching the
wreck, to find that one of the crew, who had
been clinging to the side of the vessel, had be
come exhausted, and, letting go his hold, had
lw*en drowned. Another sailor, however, waa
rescued as he was atmut to give up, and was
taken ashore Nor was ttiis the first time that
the brave young girl had ventured out on an
errand to save.
Result of Dime Novel Reading. —The
calendar of crime in North Carolina was add*
ed to in Forsyth county by Elias Crews, an in
telligent youth, thirteen years old. He lives
in Middletown township. Sunday he was
playing with a crowd of boys of his own age,
a lien he suddenly left them and went to his
father’s house near by. He secured a Colt’s
revolver, and before bis companions discovered
hia absence was back again. He then deliber
ately shot Charles Crews, bis cousin, a boy of
fifteen years, three drain in tie cheat What
makes the affair more horrible is the fact that
they had had no previous difficulty, and had
always been the best friends. His parents say
he had no cause whatever to shoot the tniy.
He hnd been reading dime novels, and had a
craving to go to sea Both youths were of the
h guest respectability Young Crews died
Monday evening after horrible suffering.
PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS
The Crisis
What think jtu would be the result if the
WUth should slap spinning around the sun ?
Were you mr nears large and intricate ma
chine-near enough to hear the grating, jarring
clash, the sudden, deafening crash? Astron
omers assure us that precisely similar effects,
only on an inconceivably grander scale, would
he produced If our earth—one of the wheels
in the universe machine—should suddenly
cease its ievolutions. In other words, there
would be a general clash and crash of satclites,
planets and systems. What we term financial
crises are due to similar causes. One of the
wheels in the finance-machine becomes clog
ged, perhaps shattered. The terrible Wall
street crash which follows is communicated
to every part of the financial mechanism of
me country. But analogies do not stop here.
There is that other mechanism, the most intri
cate of all—sometimes culled an organism be
cause it generates its own Toroes—the human
machine. When one of its members fails to
jrerform its office, the whole system is thrown
into.disorder. Members before considered un
assailable, break down under the unnatural -
pressure The shock comes and utter pros
tration Is the result. Reparation can only tas
effected by the restoration of the impaired
parts and the readjustment of its levers—the
physical forces. There is one part of the ma
chine more liable to disorder than any other—
the liver—the great balance wheel of the ma
chine.
The liver being the great depurating or
liliKid-cleansing organ of the sj’stem, aet it at
work and the foul conuptiotis which gender
in the blood, and rot out, as it were, the me
clnnery of life, and gradually expelled Irom
the system. For this purpose Dr. Pierce s
Golden Medical Discovery, used daily, and Dr.
1 ieice s Pleasant Purgative Pellets, taken in
very small doaes, are preeminently the articles
needed. They cure every kind of humor from
ihe worst scrofula to the common pimple,
blotch or eruption. Great eating ulcers kindly
heal under their mighty curative influence.
\ indent blood poisous that lurk in the system
are by them robbed of their terrors, and by
their persevering and somewhat protracted use
the most tainted systems may lie completely
renovated and built up anew. Enlarged glands,
tumors and swellings dwindle away and dis
appear under the influence of these great re
solvents.
Wanted—A \ew Dictionary,
A young lady in a neighboring town sat by
the window sewing, when her brother lounged
into the room and reposed his manly form on
the sofa beside her.
“ Bud,’" said the young lady as she looked
up from her work, “Papa says that Frank was
on a jamboree last night. What did he mean?”
and a deep blush mantled her fair countenance
as she spoke of the youth she loved.
“A jamboree, sis, is a tare.”
“A taie?'’ she inquired, with a puzzled look
in her eyes, “Now wtiat Is a tare ?"
“Why, a tare is a bender.”
“I can’t understand you, Bud.”
“\\ ell, then, sis, he meant to say Frank had
it up his snoot.,’
“Why, Bud, have you forgotten how to
speak English ? What is the use of perplex
ing me in this way ? Do tell me, Bud, what
was the matter with dear Frank ?”
“To be plain with you, sis, he was on a bu t
—kerfluinuxed—corned, you know.”
No I don’t know, please tell me what was
the matter ?”
“I have told you. Frank took too big a fly
in his lemonade and it made him how come
youso; or in other words, Frank was half
seas over.’’
“Half seas over? What’s that?”
“He was three sheets in the wind- Don’t
you see ?”
“No, I don’t see, Bud ; why are you so pro
yoking? That sort of talk is all Hebn-w v>
me. Wbat did happen to dear F. auk?”
“Havn’t I told you? Havn’t las much as
said he was shot iu the neck, and—
“ Shot in the neck! O! I know it killed
him! O, Frank ! Frank !01 O !!” and after
a succession of wild shrieks she became calm
and commenced forming a plan to catch an
other beau.
Laugh.
Would you be wise?
Take my advice:
Throw off your ills and laugh;
Banish your sigbs
And dry up your eyes,
Forget your cares—and laugh !
Should friends you have trusted with confi
dence turn
From your proffers of friendship, you have
but to learn
That if you should drain Despairs cup at oue
quaff,
It will not reinstate you as quick as one laugh.
Misfortune may trip you, calamities dire
May o’ertake you, surround you with flood or
with fire,
Consume aP your riehes as lightlyas chaff—
But victory’s yours if you sit down and laugh.
The longer you brood o’er your sorrows and
woes.
More gigantic they seem, while fantastical foes
Will loom up before you and, like the barbed
gaff
Will transfix you, unless you ignore them and
laugh.
When good butitutt friends stop you out on
the street,
And will squeeze your hand, talking and smil
ing to sweet,
Caressing you softly’ an hour ana a half.
Just say nothing, bnt look in their fond e,*es
and laugh.
Your true (?) friend may whisper, “ It’s shame
ful, but true.
Those old gossips do talk like the mischief of
you;”
Just make up your mind he’s a natural calf,
And disgust him exceedingly by a good laugh.
Our two eyes were given us that we might set
Our own way through the world; ’tisour own
fault if we
Preferring the guidance of every one’s eye,
Should lie forced —not to laugh—but eternally
cry!
—Francis W. Inverness.
A short time ago a young lady in the Navy
Yarl at Wvdiington, was terribly shocked by
her own foolish mistake. Being sent for some
flour to Harry Comb’s store, in a hurry, she
took what she supposed to be a clean pillow
slip from the bureau drawer. When sir
bounded into the store, smiling like a bash t
of chips, she handed the thing to Harry to fi 1
wi'h flour. He didn’t notice what “they *
were till a scoop of flour had gone tbrongb
them. When he raised them up and exposed
the two outlets at the lottom, nicely fringed
etc., the young lady ran toward the tunne',
without saying a word, and poor Harry, cov
ered with flour, laid the garment in the money
drawer to wait he- return. At a late hour last
evening nobody had called for the flour, ard
Harry hail engaged a seamstress to sew up the
bottoms and make a salt sack out of ’em.
NO. 17.