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-4. V UNFINISHED POEM BY BRY
ANT.
The reader of Mr. Rrvam't poems will resdl
Jy retue&ber tuo many verses uridroHHfHl to U>
w.fo, Bii< h is “Oil l air, st of the Hera
Munis.” written about the t mo of the r mar
n k >; “Thtt Future i ulutinir as t.
the union of their ip rits In tho worlu too me;
the **>ick-Bel,” desrrlbljiur an illness; *• Th<
Lite Tli it Is.’ rttji'ie mr In reooverv: ** r l li
Twenty* S' * von t h of March,' tho birthday >t
Mrs. Bryant: “October, is-in.” descriptive o.
her death and but nl; and “May Kvonln*.’
(reutie reference to her loss. But In add tl-m
to these, as wo learn from Mr. Godwin's lorlh
e.m ng biography of tberp >*t n fragment wa*
found urn ug bin papers, wli oh roc is ho
memory In a \Nsry tender wuv. so l on voir*
•ft* r h**r The lines we o un r.
am! uncorroctod; but wo cannot r tn n fruit
jr vitnr them as they were writteu—d t and **i;u.
lyn, 1/T..1;" 4
T lye morn ha'h not the glory that t w ire,
Nor doth tho day so beautifully die.
binoo I oan cad thee tp my side ho more.
To gao* upon tin* sky.
For thy dear hand, with each lOtir n of aprlnr
1 sought In suttay nooks the tlowcrs sin
gave;
I seek thorn still, and sorrowfully bring
The choicest to thy grave.
lie re, 1 sit alone, is sometimes hear 1.
From the great world, a wh sp r of my
name.
Jo:ned. hap y, to some k nd, commending
word.
By th >s > whoso praise is fame.
And then. a f 1 thought thou etii w*rt n'gh.
1 turn me. hnlf forger tug thou art dead,
To r ad the gentle gl irtness i t thin.* e>©
T hat once 1 mi/hi Uuv read.
I turn, but sec thee not: before mv ev '
Tho iiniig<‘of a bill-side mound a *p‘r
Whore all of thee that pass.' I n,)t to tho ak.os
Was laid w th bitter tears.
And !, whose thoughts go back to happ'o:
day h „
That fled w*th thee, wouM gladly now res n
All that the world cu t g ve of tame and praise
For one sweet look of thiue*.
Thus, ever, when I r*ad of generous deeds,
Mich words hs thou didst onoo and light to
liesir.
My heart Is wrung w>th anguish as it bleeds
To think thou art n a near.
And n< w that I can talk no more with thee
Of ancient frlon Is iai Id iyk t< o a rto last,
A • r r;i • ’• "*! wflU the iu.-jp •!y
' f all that h ippy post.
Ob, when I ,
—Century Magazine
THE ESGIKEEU’S STORY.
Business had brought me to the Dttlc
town o; li , anion r tho New 'Limp
sh re hills, nod here, much aga ust my
will, I was detail! lor several da s.
wlide wit tine; for instruct ons from in\
employers. The neare-t per oji a]
■tore was twelve miles a wav, and, \vi li
mit hooks or papers, time hung heavy
on my hands.
'l’lie only break in mv monotonous j
life was the arrval of tho trains twice a i
day. am lin the and a l calm of my exist 1
•nee riunle of ©xc tement he- i
came nsmuch t<rTn<* as tho opera under |
more fa ’ o ruble circumstances. It was!
while lounging upon the platform that 1
1 became acquainted with George >ea
forth, engineer orf the U. <\ vV M. Hail- I
road. lie was a man about thirty-live
years of age. Not what would bo called ;
an educated man hut. sensible and
dear-headed. 11 s home wa< in Con
eod, where he had a wife and wo chil
dren. lie ran from Con ord to 1) ,
and for two hours, while w it ng for .
the ‘ down train,” lie was in I' .
The acquaint an e at lirst begun to
while awav :tn id e lioui, on mv pa t.
at least, grew to a strong liking, and to.
day there is no one a cong my acqun nt
anee.s for whom f feel a gre ter res e t
and esteem than 'or ( eorge Seaport It.
He had been on the ears s in e lie was
sixteen, !;rst as train-'ov. then as brake j
man, l : rcm;in, and fo the last ten yea a !
as ewineer.
, “You must have had some strange
adventures in that time.” I said or:e !
day, as we sat upon the platform of the
little station, waiting for the train.
“ F'trange adven*urcs” he repeated,!
tak ng his pipe from his mouth, n;*d j
looking meditatively across the g een |
t elds. “Strange adventures' You may j
well say that, sir. We train men are j
aluv.v s having adventures.”
“Snppo eyou tell me son e of them,’'
1 suggested.
“VYell,” looking at his waUh, “as I
there's plenty of time. I don't mind mil- |
big you o! cue queoc one 1 had -■i v vear i
ago, e in- 'all, ttyoit; h 1 4&u't o ten I
speak o t; for you see wheti a man’s
be< n face to face with death, he can't
talk of it very well."
I settled myself on the rough bench
that did dut . as a chair, as comfortably
as I could, took a fresh cigar, ami he
be^fln:
“It happened ill inis way. 1 was run
ning the old Lion from Lee to FaTwLvu.
If you know an thing about New En
gland, you kftow that September's a
gre t month for fairs, and this particu
lar September was n<> exception to the
general iu’c. We had lots of extra
work to do. but. n u we h; and extra pay,
there was no grmnbl'ng. It was tow trd
the last of the month that ihe lair at
M came off. Two or three extras
were put on, timed so as to run between
tho regular trains. Jim Turn r lire tor ,
n e then. Jim was as good a fellow as
ever lived, with but one fault he
would go oil on *a time* once in a
while. He didn’t do it veryofien. and
as he'd do more work than any other
man on the road, the company kept
him. But Jim had been preity sober
lately. ] believe he hadn't drunk any
thing for as much ass \ months: so I
k ncl of got out of the habit of watching
lun, and he went.iud ca.ao pretty much
as I- cho-e
“Well, we got along all right this
time, till a’most night we stopped at
D— for wood and water. While we
were waiting, March, the depot- master,
came along, and says he; •Scaforth, I
want you to do me a favor.”
“ * What is it ’ ” says i, for March
and I were pretty good friends.
“‘Well, savs lie, ‘there’s a voting
woman here wh wants to go to Ia -
town, and she hasn’t a cent of money.
She came here to get work, and she's
lost her pocket-book, and hasn’t any
way to get back home. I don't feel at
liberty to pass her over the road,
(they’d been m iking a row about free
passes), and she a’n’t the kind that
you'd feel like offering money to. izo
I thought may be you’d let her ride on
the engine.’
“Well, I didn’t like to refuse March,
for. as I said before, he and J were
good friends, and he had done me
many a good turn; but 1 must say the
idea of having a woman in the cal; all
the way to Fairlovvn wa’n’t very
pleasant, and I said so to March, but
be was bound to have her go, arid said
•o much that I finally told him to br.ng
h r along. She came out upon the
platform, a little, pale faced thing, wlr
looked at me with great, frigli ened
eyes, as though she thought I was a
bear, and would eat her up as soon as
we left tne station. March introdu ed
her as Miss Lord, and seemed to ex
pect me to say something to m ike her
reel at home, but I was all out of sorts,
and I only nodded in a surly soil of
way. I saw the tears come into her
eyes, and you b tter believe I fed kind
or mean, but I didn't say anyth ng,
and March helped her on the engine.
I saw her pnt out a litt'o white hand,
not much b gger’n a child’s, and fay it
on his arm, as she sad:
“ ‘God bless you, Mr. March ’
“And then 1 went off to look for Jim,
who wa late.
“ I found him the other side of the
depot, with a two-gailon can of kerosene
Sl)c Onjcttc.
VOL. X.
in Ir’s hand.
* * \ou ?c<\* ho said, a-* I asked rath
er sharply where he’d been, *1 c’n git
Hiis a good deal cheaper h re than at
1 airtown, an’ my wife thinks it’s a sight
bettor, too.’
“•Wei, come a’ong,’ I sad, ’for
we’re two minutes I ehind time now.’
“When we got hack to tin* en no
March had gone, and Miss Lord sat there
a One.
Jim stared, but T sahl;
“ * This \ o mg woman’s going to r’do
on ih * engine to i airtown. She s a
trend of r. Mar. h. ’ > v o ho put and u n
h s kero.-one, and lo his place on the
cab
* I heard the conductor's 4 All aboard.’
and then we wore o '.
“1 was busy w.tli lovers and valves*
for a man who dri es a train holds the
lives o; hundreds in h s hand, and one
careless motion may send them a’l in o
e tern it . So you see 1 hadn't much
tme to think of an thing hut y ran
chine, but I no;iccd that Jim w s
pretty in kat've. At l.rst 1 thought
it was became wo mu a woman
aboard, but by and by I began
to suspect it was something worse
than that. II s voice grow tliic<
and his movements un erta n and at
last 1 could no longer hide from nr elf
th * fact that ho h and ion dr.uk ng.
Still I anticipated no trouble. \\ o
were alre pty mo o tint ha t way to
l ai’ town, and < thought ho would keep
up till we got there.
“At A the station master hail led
the conductor a telegram, lie read it,
nn i then lean Vd it to e. It ordered
us to goon to N— to nice' the special.
I had ex eetod to sto:* at th * n * t sta
tion, and \ was ten miles beyond,
but orders are orders and m st
e obeye I. So I told Jim to pile
on tlie woo 1. an 1 1 put on all the steam
1 dared, an l we went spinning own* tho
road at a rate that must have astonished
the passenger*.
“ We had gone a little more than half
way. and l was hegi n ng to think wo
to l id ma e tho di-lam e without mu h
t on e, when Jim sat right do no i
tie* t oor of the cab, an l began to
whimper.
“ ‘Got up, you fool, and go to work,’ ,
“1 can’t,’ he whimpered. ‘l’m
tired, an’ inns’ go er sleep.’
“‘Get up, you rascal!’ 1 shouted.
* Don’t you know wo'\u got to gel to
N in ten minutes, or meet tho !
special trail?
“‘I can’t help it, let ther ol* train j
come. 1 toil ye I’m tired. ow, lock
here, Sea orth,’ nod.l '.eg his head w th j
drunken gavit . * Y ou're workin’
too hard- Wh.', min. you won’t i
live, out half your days, if xou don’t |
take soiiv rest, t tell ve what ’t is you’d I
better take things easy. I m goin’ to, |
a lywft .’ '
“. nd he laid down On the floor of the i
caV, and shut his yes, mutter ng;
‘ ‘J ake it easy. easy. im 11 take it easy.* j
4 1 suppose 1 m ist have acted like a I
wiid man, for J knew that hour el cou id j
let tho conductor know the fix that w i
w re in. and get help, it would be t o |
late to save the train, and I’m afraid I !
use l sum pretty strong words, as a ]
man is apt to when he gets in a ti lit j
pla e. Not tha' the words ii dp him out j
o it. 1 suppose they oly let o some j
of the extra steam, and make him th nk ]
uuic. er. Fo I stormed away there, all i
the tme trying to do my work nd
Ji :t’s, and nowing ever moment that
wi: were losing ground. The st am was
going down, and the engine slowing up.
spite of all I could do.
“1 toll you.” and he passed his hand
o er his forehead, “it ma es the sweat
start on m ‘ now. when 1 think of that
run. It seem- to me that 1 lived a lih -
tune in those few m nut . it’s an
awful thing to have so many lives de
pending on you. In the carsbehiri Ime
were hundreds of h man bongs, and
the other train had hundreds more, and
only a step between them an I eternity.
All this time, theg rl M rch had put on
th'* engine had been siting per.etly
still, w a'eh n t every ' ling that, went on,
an i now, when everything so *med lost,
she threw o V her sh awl, an 1 stopped in
to Jim’s place, say ng cju e:ly;
“ ‘l’ll take that man's place, Mr.
Sea orth.’
“ You?’ and I looked at the slight,
almost girli- 1 figure in astonishmont.
“‘Yus,’ she said. Tam atron/er
than 1 look, and 1 ve been watching the
man. so I know 1 can do hL work. 1
“It. was a forlorn hope, but our only
one. and, ato * one hr.of moment of
hesitation. Isa and;
•• *Very well, you can but try, and if
you fail’
“I did not finish tho senten e, for, at
the h -tight of failure, the terrhde pict
ure of" ni ngl•; i, b eed.ng ho lies,
crushed out ol all one l:m< eo; human
ity. rose be ore me. and I turned aw't
with a groan. A si gli: shudd ■' i>a sed
over the gir , arid she .-eemed to grow
paler, but, without a wo and. she took
her place* throwing on tli : wood i
dire :ed, and doing so well, t . at. sp.te
of my anxiety, 1 could not hut not co
the dexterity with which lie ban led
h avy sti ks. The strength o a half-a
dozen men seemed concentrated in her
si nder arms. hut. spite of her efforts,
we hardly s mod to gain ground.
“1 looked at my watch, and fairly
groaned aloud us I saw that it wanted
ten minutes oi six, and at six we were
expected to pass the extra a' N *.
r J here was no time to put back, and no
chance to stop till we reac ed N .
There was nothing for us to do hut
to go straight ou, though i f• *it that we
were going to destruction. As t’ e hands
of the watch crept round, V 1 ing off the
minutes, I watched Ihcrn with a sort of
nation fot\l ru/ as thouodi t ’*"**
turning to stone. \Y r - n, i‘ you’ll beheve
me. that girl, instead of making a row,
eh most women ouhl have done, never
sad a single word, though she seemed
to know just how things were going,
but, aft r one look at my face—and 1
au muse I must have looke I pretty bad
—almost be inspiration it seemed to me,
.‘■he d’d one of those t hings a man would
never have thought of. II ght buh nd
her was the oil-can Jim had got at
1) —. With a steady hand she lifted
the heavy can, and poured hah' its con
tents on th • wood, then she threw' he
wood upon the fir •, and it blazed up
with a quick, fierce heat, that scat th •
engine flying over the rails at a rate
that fairly made one dizzv. Still she
p led on th oi :ed wood, v. nd still we w nt
on faster, and faster. The train rocked
from side to s de, and the engine
seemed hardly to touch ‘he rails. I
looked at my watch, and then anxiously
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, APRIL L 1883.
in th<- d'lTctiin of N . It Wanlod
111 f,' minute, of ji\. Oh, i timid
nnjfht In' .-onio(lollly.simif tiling: tomnkß
tin. otlu r ttil:n o en o io niintUo late,
liii no, mvnv in tho distant 0 1 Couldsoo
a fa tit 1 uo o: Buiokti coniinjinoarer ami
lu'urof. Tlio trill saw it. too, and
reached for the oil can.
“ ‘lt’s of no use,’ ! said. ‘We can’t
pet there, and we’ve all the steam wt>
tan safely earn’ notv.’
“•'■l'd you ante it Won’t bear anr
tli re?* she ashed, anxiously.
■ 1 shook my bead
“*1 m ufra and not.’ Is iid.
“■Hut. t i possible that it may?’ aha
asked apain.
“ ‘Vos, possible, but not probable,’ I
nn w e red
“Slut asked the questions in a calm,
even voice, and 1 think 1 anslvorod in
mu li llio same tone, for, now that the
and n er I had learn 1 wa. really upon us,
J seemed to lave lost all tear, and l
watched the line of smoko nearlnp us
so as w tli a sort ot vapee wonder as
to what tie enp tieer of the other train
W:mid do wlieu lie saw us coininp, too
la e io save bii tra n. 1 was roused
trout this sort o stupor into which l
seemed in daneer of fall np. by seoinp
the prl apa n reaeli tor the oil-can, I
shook illi head.
“•It won’t do,’ 1 said. ‘lt may bo
doali.’
“ ‘But,’ she said, ‘it is death if 1
don t.’
“1 nodded, and, without a
Wi nl, she poured tho remainder
oi the oil upon tho tvood, and threw
it inti tho lire. We wero
close to tho stat ion now. and I could see
people running nrr s the p atform, ami
Lear the women scream as they saw our
dan er; or ripht n iontoi ns was he
extra, to near that it seemed as ii noth
np but a mtrao’o could sa'o us.
looked at Miss I ord. W ith that ef
fort her strenpth seemed to leave her,
nml she sank upon the sent, covering
her face with lier h utls, waitinp for the
death that sei med so near.
“ There was a moment, of awfu'sus
puse, and then we were safe upon tho
side track, just as tho e tra train went
thumb rinp ly, so near that s< areely an
imli si'pa'ated he enp.no from tho
hindirio t ear ‘l'ho lira .es were put
on. and tho lonp l ne of ears came to a
stand still just beyond tho station, and
then s'owlv ran lack to where tho
fin : and oi a'anued and curb m men
stood watching us. At the shrill sound
o t e e c ipin ; s cam, M ss Herd raised
li: r bead, ami looked nnxi. usiy around,
then M'ouiin ; toreai.e that we were
sic, she tiied to say something, but
the word, died away in a murmur, and
the m t mom nt. -bo fell on the oor
o: the cab like a dead woman. But b•-
fore 1 cou and cal any one tolieip her, or
J Mas pretty well ha en te.vse f, one
of the din ctorg, who was on the tra u
i i>i|w rdopg in a fearful passion, lie
waned to now what 1 meant by run
ning the risk that i had done.
■■•la cutyou any brains? and don’t
yon ( arc any more for human lie than
a (!• nkevi ’ he li ustere !.
“ I handl'd liim the telepratn I had
re eived at A . and which, fortu
nately for myseif, i had put into my
pod et, and then 1 pointed to the to r
o die cab, where dim lay in a drunken
sl< , mid Miss Lord in a dead :a n',
and I told the story as well as I could.
] tell you there was pretty lively times
there tor a cw minutes The passen
gers found out diat something Mas the
tnn ter. and they c me pouring out of
tfie cars. a"d crowded round the en
pnio. and l lmd to tell my story over
an i over to them. Well, some of the
men cirr ed dim o 1 to the st a! on, and
dumped h m down < n the floor, ad
M a Lord wfts taken into one o tho
drawing-room cars, anil fussed over as
though she was one of the greatest
iadi s in t :.e land and, before she came
to herself euo ;rb tos t up, th re was a
put e made pier her, of mure dollars
tli n i.c ei rha 1 u her li e. and that
w. 'n't all, for . r. Un als- the director
tb.i old th' trail found that
Pie knew so . eth up of telepr.iph . and
put her in IJieoToc at C -—for awhde.
an 1 in a .".w months g ive her a steady
10 i. fo tou see it want a bad ride lor
her, a to: - a!b ’’
■ liit v.. at 1 ceame of her? ’ T asked.
“Is -li • still in the o ■ ce?”
“O . t you, no. sir. ' he did what
mos; ail the women do, sooner or later
—get married."
•• , ll,” ad L “such a worn n de-
.■ ■ r ,■ a cood bu.'lia and; 1 liojie she pot
o. e ’
•Well, I don’t know: pr t'y m dili ng,
I-- ns ,’ and the i be no i ed, w.th a
]oi dj “ lie ccius to he -at lied, so I
. , < eth.'i'e - no occ .sion lor any ono
ei-e to litel fillll
ii t then here was a whistle, and
the down tiain came into view, and,
ii it up ins pipe in Ins pocket, the en
ncer”made rca ly for his homeward
u ,). saving, with a siv smile, as he
s ranp on the engine and said good b/:
“If .-ver von couio to (ioucord I shall
I e glad to see you, and you can ask my
wi e what Tie ' Links of tho husband
Miss l ord got. ’ ’ — llallou' Monthly.
The Human Figure.
The proportions of the human figure
are six times the leDgth of the feet.
Whether the form is slender or plump,
tlio rule holds good, any deviation from
it is a departure from the highest
beauty in proportion.
The Greeks make all tlieir statues ac
cording to this rule. The face, from the
highest, point of the forehead, where the
11 air begins, to the chin, is one- nth of
the whole stature. The hand, from the
wrist to the middle finger, is the same.
F’rom the top of the chest io the highest
point of the forehead, is a seventh. If
the face, from tlie roots of the chin, be
divided into three equal parts, tlie first
division determines the place where the
eyebrows meet, and the second the nos
trils. The height, from the feet to the
top of the head, is the distance from the
extremity of the fingers when tlio arms
are extended.
Gbandmotheh : " You are stupid,
Charley; the dullest boy I ever saw.”
Charley : ‘‘You must not expect me tc
understand things as cjuick as you do,
grandmother, because you don’t have
the trouble to get ’em through your
hair.”
CO 1,0 It ED FOItOmiNKSS.
.4 I.tf*pnt'<tt lt<*t Illicit ilnrn
Mill <l.l tltlioliUU
(LiUlttloek U(ualtP.|
llie forgiving spirit of the colored peo
ple is a distinctive character of that race.
The most violent animosities may be
cooled l r the wave of the fun of conces
sion, and the hot tent (Ire of hatted can
be extinguished hy n drop of tlie milk of
human kindness. Handy Horn, a colored
man known in the neighborhood as Buck
Horn, sometime ago met the wife of one
eyed Nicholas. Mrs. One-eyed •Nicholas
was a “likely, 'oman," but her attraction
at least for thick Horn consisted in a lack
rather than fn tho abundance of the Mrs.
Oiesnr material. Buck Horn hung
around Nicholas’ house while the old
man was away, Finally he and Mrs. Ono
eyod Nicholas rail away and came to Lit
tle Rook and opened a kind of boiled
cabhage eating-house. For the lirst few
days after the elopement old Nicholas
surrendered himself to grief. “I'so lost
de ’oman ob my bosom, ho said, “lie
debil liah tuck do rib what God had gin
me.” At last tlie old man threw aside
his grief and meditated revenge. He
took an oath he would kill Buck Horn.
“I'so tiebber gone hack on a oath,” lie
raid to a neighbor, “an’ when I meets
Buck Horn ho mus’ die de death ob do
ungodly. Happy will bode time when I
si ts de soles of my feet iu dat ’onory
man’s blood.” Next day old Nicholas
came to the city. He brought a pistol
and a briar hook with him. Ascertain
ing the locality of his mortal enemy, he
went to the house, and, without revealing
his identity, was admitted by a Ismrder.
Seated on a bench, he awaited the appear
ance of Buck Horn. After a while the
man came. Nicholas sprang up, shut,
tho door and locked it.
“Faeo ter face wid de debil,” ox
olaimed Nicholas, cocking his pistol, and
raising the briar hook. “I hah swor tor
take yer life, an’ fore do Lord I’se agwine
tor do hit.”
“Look heah, Nick,” said Buck Horn,
‘‘guv n man some sorter show.”
“Say yer prars.”
“Nick, I doan want no truck wid yer.”
"Inde name of de church I stormin
ates dis sinner. ” Tho old man leveled
his pistol.
“Nick, doan you romombor dat Ken
tucky whisky, we drunk dat. day at do
ferry?”
“Yes,” said the old man, lowering his
pistol; “ver got any mouh?”
“Yes, I is."
“Wliar’s yer bottle?"
“Ileah hit is,” and Buck Horn took a
1 Kittle from his pocket, handing it over
and remarked, “hep yerself. ”
The old man drank and said "genny
wine 'possum hollow.”
“Ycr’s right, old man. Hah a seat.’
Tlio two men sat down. “Let me put
yer pistol ober heah. Put de hook olicr
in do cormler. Bur now, wc's fixed.
How’s eberytliing down de country?
What! yer ain’t agoin' so soon, is yer?
Wish yer stay to dinner.”
“(iimmo some moro ob de ’possom
hollow. Dat stuff makes me loel like
whistlin’. Come out an’ see me. Doan
forget de jug. ”
The Cabbage.
Just, speak to a line lady alioiit cab
jngos and slio will think that you have
nentionod one of tho lowest things on
Mirth. Madam, you are wrong; it is one
>1 the most useful articles of food.
Those ancient nations did not know
’(Kid science, but they knew tlio value of
good and nourishing things, and gavo
iiora the place of honor which they de
served. Cabbages were thought of
Highly by ancient nations, and the Fgy|>-
lians gave the cabbage the honor of let-
Sing it precede all tlieir other dishes;
they called it a divine dish. The Greeks
in(i Romans had a great affection for
jolibage, and conceived the idea, which I
have myself, that tlio use of cabbage
keeps people from drunkenness. lam
persuaded that tlio constant eating of
jortain vegetables kills tho desire for
dcoliolie beverages. Greek doctors as
jribed all kinds of virtues to the cabbage,
rt was thought to cure even paralysis.
Books were composed to celebrate the
virtues of the cabbage, and ladies par-
Look of it soon after childbirth. The
Romans thought even more of the cal>-
bage than the Greeks. They ascribe to
it the fact that they could for six hundred
years do without doctors, and Cato
actually maintained that cabbage cured
ill diseases. The ancients knew several
kinds of cabbage—the long-leaved green
jabbage, tlie hard white, so much used
in Germany for “sauerkraut” or fer
mented cabbage, the curly anil the red.
This last seems to have held the place of
honor, and was first introduced by the
Romans into Gaul or France, anil thou
brought to Great Britain. Later the
green leaved cabbage was introduced.
The Greeks were fond of aromatic sea
sonings—of oil, raisin wine, and almonds.
They boiled or stowed the cabbage and
seasoned it with cummin, coriander seed,
with oil, wine, and gravy, making rich
dishes of a vegetable, which we now boil
in water, and reckon among the plainest
food. Something like a remembrance
of cooking cabbage among the old
Greeks has come down to the modern
Greeks, for they stuff cabbage leaves
with dainty mince meat, and then stew
them with gravy.— Mm. Lewis, in Food
and Health Leaves.
—loaquin MHler, in writing of the
stability of wealthy families on Murray
Hill thinks that the patent pill people
are the most perfectly secure. Tne man
that “struck oil” once did not long
ma ntain his elegant mansion, and the
inventor of a i atent hinge disappeared
when in a suit his patent was annulled.
The man who invented a patent screw
was more fortunate. He bought his
res dence on Murray Hill, anil “says
i;e has screwed himself on to stay.”
Uoston Transcrip 1 .
True Lore.
Do yon know what it is so to live up
on a person who is present with yon
that your eyes follow his ; that you read
his soul; that you see the changes in
his countenance; that you anticipate
bis wishes ; that you smile in his smile,
and are sad in his sadness, and are down
cant when he is vexed, and rejoiced in
his successes?
—Charles Kee, the most intelligent
Chinaman in Chicago, denies that his
people ever eat rats.
liaising Poultry for tho Market.
llaisirtg poultry for tho market can be
made quite a profitable business if prop
erly managed. By faulty management
the profit can be made very .small or ho
made to disappear entirely. In raising
chickens for market it nmkos a great
difference whether they attain a good
sizo and are sent in early in the season
when poultry is scarce and high, or are
marketed late when thero is plenty of
poultry offered at low prices. The
prices of chickens In August and Sep
tember are Usually fifty to ono hundred 1
per cent, higher than they arc in Onto- ;
bar and November. By having the
chickens hatched earlv is the spring
they may easily be made ready for tho
market early ami then secure the high j
prices which prevail during tho latter
partof summor and first part of autumn.
In order to succeed in raising poultry
extensively, plenty of room must, be pro
vided for it. There must be sub able
shelter, and plenty of yard room. The
yard should be large enough so that a
largo part of the ground can be kept in
grass, to afford the poultry a supply of
green food. They need a daily supply I
of green vegetables. Cabbage and let- j
tuce are best, but young and tomler |
grass is good. Shade is needful in the
yard to afford the birds a chance to re
treat from the hot rays of tho sun In
summer. Fruit trees may advanta
geously bo placed in the yard They
will afford the needed shade, and the
presence of the fowls will help to pro
tect the trees from insects and insure
their thriftiness and fruitfulness, l’oultry
yards are generally too small. If tlie
yard is large enough the fowls will keep
healthy. A New York hotel-keeper a
few years ago had a poultry yard which
contained fifteen acres, in which lie kept
largo numbers of tuikcys, docks and
fowls. They had the range of tlio lot
and during the summer obtained a largo
part of their food from tho yard, and
wore free from diseases usu Jly incident
to poultry. The owner was wont to de
clare that ho could raise a thousand
pounds of poultry as easily and as
cheaply as he ooulil a thousand pounds
of beef, mutton or pork. Under good
management it is probably true that a
thousand pounds of poultry can bo pro
duced as cheaply as a thousand pounds
of beef, mutton or pork. ’Tlio fact that
poultry usually sells at two or three
times iho price of bo f, mutton or pork,
sufficiently indicates how much greater
tho profit must be in poultry raising
than in raising beef, mutton or pork.
In raising poultry for the market, tho
importance of having the chickens
batched early should be in isled upon.
Next in importance is tne feeding of
them to insure tlieir rapid and continu
ous growth. Tho food for the young
chicks should bn such as is adapted to
promote growth, and should lie abun
dant in quantity. Skimmed milk,either
sweet or sour, is an excellent article to
feed young ehiclts, along witli Indian
meal or oat meal or bread made of
the e articles. Tho chickens should be
given about all the food they will oat so
as to keep them growing thriftily, all
the time. Many allow their y ting
chickens to be only about half fed for
the first three or four monl lis and then
by extra feeding endeavor to bring
them into condition for the market. By
feeding well from the first tho chickens
are hastened to maturity, kept in good
condition and are ready for the market
at an early age. If poultrv can ho
brought to maturity early in the season
and sent to market when there is a
scarcity of poultry offered, a high price
will be obtained for it. The quiokor
poultry can be grown ready for market,
the cheaper can it lie produced. A cer
tain amount of food daily is required to
supply the waste of tho system, main
tain animal heat and so forth, and what
is consumed in excess of that amount
increases growth and flesh. If a flock
of chickens can be brought to maturity
ready for the market in four months
instead of six, the cost of keeping them
alive or simply maintaining tlieir con
dition for two months will he saved.
The more the chickens can be made to
eat and digest the faster they will grow
arid the less will be the cost of maturing
them. Neglect to feed generously is
the cause of many failures in raising
poultry for the market. The greatest
profit is obtained only by feeding all tlie
birds can eat, while the least profit is
obtained hy keeping them about half
starved. Generous feeding and profit
go together and that, fact should lie suf
ficient inducement to secure good treat
ment of poultry.— Practical Fanner.
Reserved Seats.
In traveling, one meets with many
selfish people ; among them countless
women who insist on monopolizing two
seats in a railway ear under the pre
tense that one of them is engaged by an
attendant gentlerrsui, supposedly in the
smoking-ear for a brief interval. Wo
saw two women of this sort rightly
served during a simmer trip. For fifty
miles they succeeded iu warding off
travelers who sought the. shady side of
the car, and the seat in front of them
was the convenient receptacle of their
baggage. Finally, however, an uncouth
looking individual quickly removed the
baggage and turned the seat. Tlio
astonished ladies paused in tlieir con
versation to each other and raised their
hands as if in remonstrance, but it was
too late; the thing was quietly and
quickly accomplished, and the two for
eigners who were seated there seemed
to understand uo words or gestures.
Public opinion, in that car, at least,
sided with them. On another occasion,
when our party entered a ear, not a seat
was available. Ono person w;ls guard
ing four, others one and two; the aisle
was uncomfortably crowded. “This
way,” said the conductor, “room in the
palace car for those who are standing. ”
The engaged seats were at a discount
(plenty of room now), hut the conductor
insisted that they should he retained Ly
their occupants, arid all were made com
fortable. “Do as you would bo deno
by,” is a good rule when traveling as
elsewhere.
—New England sometimes boasts of
its influence m Chicago, but it has only
about one-fifth as many representatives
there as Germany, and a little over a
third as many as Ireland . Boston Eo
tninij Traveler.
NO. 11.
A Sun Francisco Snow-Storm.
Tourists have told you of our boauti
ltd climate, of a land where even in mid
winter, roses bloom in tho open air and
ce and snow arc unknown; yet, strange
is it may secm, on the last day of tlie
year, suddenly, without wa eing, we
wero treated to a genttino snow-storm.
11 Uriahs from thousand, of boyish
voices filled the air as tlio feathery
ji.oivflakeafc.il swil.ly, and when they
continued to fall, hour after hour, cov
ering the finrth with a snowy mantle,
b >vLh enthusiasm knew no bounds;
such snowballing, such coasting on im
provised sleds, such giant, balls, such
snow men, such forts 1 They know
what to do with It, our California boys,
though unless they had been out ol tlie
State they had never seen snow before.
They tried to cram the fun and frolic of
a whole winter into one day. Nor were
the girls less wild; quiet, sedate maid
ens romped; they greeted tlie pas-ing
stranger, tho family milkman, their
friends young and old, with snowballs;
dignity was thrown aside; young ladies
forgot they were grown up, dandies
threw away their canes, put their gloves
in their pockets, to return the balls
thrown from every side. Such a snow
carnival was never seen. As for the
old folks, why wo were as bad as the
young. The snow-storm came to us liko
an old friend, bringing to many of us
happy memories of our childhood s
home. Many a dear grandma let the
snow settle on her cap as site stood on
tho sidewalk regardless of the pelting of
a roguish grandson. I’apaand mamma
threw balls at each other. We till tor
got it was Sunday. It was not so funny
when the Sunday-schools were out,
soon after the storm began, that the
children should shout, scream ami
roll in tlie snow, as it was about
two hours later when tho churches
were out, and the grown peoplo acted
like children. Coming out of one of
the largest churches in town, a grave,
sedate member slipped and fo'l; before
he was allowed to rise, other sedate
members had rolled hitu in the snow.
Every otic, old and young, rich and
poor—was in the streets; no can give
you but a faint idea of the wild frolics
indulged in. Tli y were young ladies
and gentlemen, not bad boys, who put
a big snowball on the track, making tho
car-driver get off of his car to roll it
away, and, when a policeman appeared,
snowballing him so he hail to run.
Standing in our dummy cars, the en
gineer proved so tempting a target ho
was nearly smothered in the snow.
Boor fellows, they could not stand it,
the cars stopped running. People on
ton of high houses would make im
mense balls, letting them fall on unsus
pecting pedestrians. Many silk hats
vveie made unfit for New Year’s calling.
The few Chinamen who ventured out
had a hard time. Our China-hoy stand
ing on the steps, asked: “What for him
boys heap laugh? cold very had?” He
had reason to think so before the end of
tlie day; i-otno boys caught him, buried
him in the snow till ho was nearly
smothered, and sent him homo crying
like a baby. Wo lived many years in
tho East, but never saw a snow-storm
like tlii-, for there all the trees (but the
cvergiecus) are hare, tlio rose bushes
arc covered with brown branches,
bushes and plants are dark and with
ered ; but here everything was different
—the grass, trees, bushes all green.
Many rose bushes covered with buds
and roses, the climbingtiiclisiasrod with
flowers, the Abutilnn gay with its swing
ing bells. In our garden wc had smilax,
heliotrope, geraniums, fuchsias and
roses. We picked our New Year bou
quet after the storm began. 'Think of
picking beautiful tea-roses and white
rosebuds in a snow-storm!~Cbr. Uos'.on
Transcript.
A Long Nap.
A recent dispatch from Buffalo says:
Avery peculiar and remarkable case
has just come to light in this city, but
has not as yet, strange to say, attracted
the notice of tho local press. 'The State
Asylum for the Insane is located here
and is one of the largest mid finest in
stitutions of this kind in the world. It
contains at present about 260 patients,
the most remarkable case among them
being that of a man of German descent,
who hails from a large town in southern
Ohio. He was found lying in a street
here one day over a year ago, and was
i taken to the police station by an ignor
ant policeman who believed him to
Vie intoxicated. There his real condi
tion was discovered by a physician, and
he was hurried away to the Insane
Asylum. The man has spoken but. once
during the time he has been an inmate
of the Asylum. Then he declared inoo
horently that the “Lord had commanded
him to sleep” and that ho “would be
awakened by the Lord when it suited
His pleasure,” or words to the same
effect. The man is insane, his peculiar
| delusion being that he must sleep, and
| sleep he certainly does, for he is utterly
unconscious, and has been for over a
year, lining fed on liquid food just as an
infant would be. Ilis eves never open,
and when raised up in bed, if his sup
port is withdrawn, he will sink down as
limp as a dead person. Various devices
have been resorted to in the vain en
deavor to arouse him from ids lethargic
condition, including electricity, shower
baths, trickery, etc. In presence of the
writer, Dr. Granger, ono of the attend
ing physicians, pinched the patient’s
flesh in sensitive parts, but not a muscle
moved or quivered, yet when the head
board of his bedstead was soundly
rapped upon with a brass key, tho
patient’s face twitched convulsively.
The man has excellent family con
nections, and a brother of his declares
that no insanity was ever noticed in his
brother previous to fcis coming to Buf
falo on a visit, when he was overtaken
by his present great misfortune. Dr.
Granger states that the case is a rare
one, 'only one or two such being on
record. He also states that the patient
is liable to arise at any moment, either
a perfectly sane man or a combative,
destructive, raving maniac. He believes
him to be cognizant of all that transpires
in his presence. He is thirty years of
age and unmarried. Tho case, when
it becomes more publicly known, will
certainly awaken wide-spread attention
in scientific and medical circles.
PASSING SMILES. TjT4
Tnn person who docs nothing in this
world is Oy.
“Makutaoe makes the man—the woman
was maid before.
A Western paper informs its readers
that its candidate for Congress iflingH the
most eloquent lip of man in the State.
A nowN-Towx physician reports busi
iii'hh “terribly dull considering the state
of the markets.” —Kingston Freeman,
The farmer p<wod the golden grain,
Ami (tewed th* farmer’ll daughter;
With 1m r n < harming episode,
For soon she’d soda water.
Tt is said that Ohio wives do their
own housework. Now, that is the kind
of nil no hire idea we like. — 1 ankers
Statesman.
11 incock’s father wanted him to leant
tlio printer's trade. Hud lie done so, in
stead of being a West Pointer he might
have heeu a setter.
“ Tis sweet to dye for those we love,"
exclaimed u yonng man when his best
girl asked lum ivny lie didn’t wear a
black instead of a light must nolle.
The animal carries his tail at tho op
posite extremity from his head; a man
carries his talc in his mouth. And thus
does many a man make Loth ends meet.
It is learned from the Salt Lake Herald
that Galileo discovered Limborger cheese
floating through space in 1009, and made
an entry in his diary at the time that ho
thought it in a very poor state of pre
servation.
Smith says: “My wife, who Imp just
read that ‘it takes'a Japanese girl thir
teen hours to dress for n. party,’ lias sent
to Japan to know how she does it. She
emi t occupy more than four, for the life
of her.”
As they were about to bang an Irish
man in London, one of liis friends who
had come to witness the ceremony, cried:
“I always told you you would come to
this!” “And you have always lied 1 I
have notcomo —I was brought!”
A GENTLEMAN who posse),.a 1 (1 an imita
tion rat tobacco pouch, thought he would
enjoy tho nervous shook of a friend liy
plaelngit where liis friend’s eye would see
it suddenly. He wasmuch mortifiedavhen
the friend*quietly took it up, helped him
self, and then passed it about till the con
tents were gono.
“William, you have again come up
unprepared I” “Yes, sir.” “But from
what cause?” “Laziness, sir.” “John
son, give William a good mark for up
rightness.” “Bates, you procoed.” “I
have notprepared, too, sir.” “Butwhy
not?” “From laziness, sir.” "Johnson,
give Bates a bad mark for plagiarism!"
The young Positivists are multiplying.
Passing a group of children the other
evening, we heard a little girl of a dramatic
turn of mind remark tea little boy per
suasively, “ Now. you are a bad angel,
aren’t you?” “ No;” was tlie dogmatic
rejoinder, “ I ain’t, a bad angel and I ain’t
a good angel. There’s no such things os
angels, anyway.”
Tho Malice of Inanimate Things.
A certain young man in this city can
never be argued out of a belief in tire
total depravity ol inanimate things,
which has been impressed upon him in
a singular and forcible manner. Last
Saturday night he came home very late
from the club—although that faot is
neither hole nor there. On reaching his
sleeping apartment he proceeded to un
dre s according to an unvarying system
into which lie had fallen. lie removed
bis coat, and vest and hung them over
tho back of a chair. Then he sat down
and took off his shoes. He then drew
off a certain other garment—in short, his
trousers—in one pocket of which ho was
acaustomed to carry a penknife and tlie
key to his office desk. On doing so ho
heard the knife fall upon the floor, and,
picking it up, he placed it upon the
washstand mid finished disrobing. In
the morning he aroso betimes, and, on
resuming his trousers, discovered that,
liis key was missing. Ho groveled all
over the floor looking after it, but with
out effect, and although hunting high
and low, could find nothing of it. As it
stormed that day and the walking was
bad he put on a pair of heavy boots,
which he wore all day, and donned
again on Moiiday morning, (in Sunday
he tried all manner of keys on his desk,
but, owing to the diabolical ingenuity
of tiie, lockmaker, none would fit, and
on Monday he got a locksmith to come
up, who, after a long trial picked the
lock,and at his order made him two ke.ys,
so that no such calamity as lie had en
dured should again fall upon him. With
these two keys in his pocket he went
home Monday night to prepare for the
theater, and on putting on the dress
shoes he had. worn at the club found the
missing key in the toe of one of them.
'The language that ho used at this dis
covery was of a somewhat lurid char
acter, but it seemed to do him good.
And he swears and affirms that the key
jumped into tho shoe on purpose, hav
ing previously arranged with the knife
to fall loudly on the floor at the same
moment and avert suspicion; and he
furthermore, deposes t hat the key will
not now fit his desk, as it had stretched
the slot in it so widely by grinning over
its little joke that it e'an not move the
noil in liio lock. —Huston Journal.
A Two-Headed Girl.
There is at Soorabaya, Java, at present
on view a Japanese infant with two heads
nnil necks, but with one body, two arms
and two legs. The little thing is now
about fifty days old, according to the
mother, and is so far in fair health. The
two heads and necks are placed side by
side on the trunk, and ax-e perfectly anil
neatly formed, and of about normal size.
Between them on the trunk is a small
protuberance, caused evidently by the
junction of two bodies. The body is ab
normally broad at tho shoulders, and
tapers down at the waist and loins to the
size of an ordinary infant of the same
age; the legs appeared very small and
weak, however. Tlio arms on each side
of the small chest looked puny. The
right hand head is a little lighter in color
than the other. How the internal ar
rangements are disposed of we, of course,
do not know, but both heads have to be
fed at meal times. When the writer
■was present one head cried, the mother
said from hunger, but the other did not,
though it at tho some time began moving
about restlessly as if for food. The two
heads do not breathe alike, nor do the
pulses on either arm beat together, from
time to time the infant (or infants, for
each head has a name) suffers from de
pression, and the face turns bluish,
showing that the blood circulation is not
properly regulated. The parents are
ordinary Japanese of the lower class,
and the mother is good-looking; so is the
offspring, They are doing a good trade
by tho exhibition. —London Telegraph.
Lemon Preserve.— Ono pound of
pounded loaf sugar, quarter pound of
butter, six eggs and the whites of four
well-beaten, the rind of two lemons
grated anil the juice of three. Mix to
gether and let it simmer till of the con
sistency of honey. Be careful to stir all
the time, or it will burn.