Newspaper Page Text
CLIPPINGS FOR THE CURIOUS. |
A new fish, the cherna, belonging i
to the halibut family, has made its ap- '
pearanee in the Gulf of Mexico.
Children grow taller, it is said, dur- ■
ing an acute sickness, such as fever,
the growth of the bones being stimu
lated by the febrile condition.
Americans average a daily addition
to the public fortune of seven cents,
which means that the United States |
each day is worth $4,000,000 morel
than it was the day before.
An Indian paper records the death
of seven shepherds in the Belgaum
district from being struck by hail
stones of the size of cocoanuts. A
large number of animals were killed.
The farthest point north ever
reached by man was reached by
Lieutenant Lockwood, a member of
the Grcei.v expedition, who went to 83 i
degrees, 24 minutes, or within 458 .
miles of the Pole.
The drink called “posset,” men- |
tioned often by the early English i
writers, was composed simply of hot I
milk curdled by some strong infusion. !
This drink was held as a great luxury i
and found use both as a drink and a :
medicine.
When Maud S. trotted a mile in
2.09 1-4 she move 1 forty feet ten and
five-sixteenth inches every second. I
Iler ordinary stride is seventeen feet,
but, assuming it to be twenty feet,
each hind foot would touch the ground
at least twice every second.
The \ndanian Islanders believe
that their deity lives m a big stone
house, and that his wife is a green
shrimp. A small body of heretics as
sert that the deity's wife is a red
shrimp, but they are regarded as of
little account, and are vigorously per
secuted on general principles.
We are told that the chairman of
one of the agricultural societies in
Germany recently put himself to the
task of counting the number of ker
nels of the different grains contained
in one liter, 0.908 quart of dry meas
ure. He found that it held 21,700
kernels of wheat, 28,000 of rye, 18,100
of barley and 12.000 of oats.
Tire largest number of patents re
ceived from the United States patent
office in one week to one person was
issued recently to a Cincinnati gentle
man. The financial clerk of the pat
ent office says the final fees, $520, for
twenty six patents pai l by him, is the
largest amount for this purpose ever
paid into the office at one time.
How General Sedgwick Fell,
Reporting an interview with Gen
eral McMahon “Gath” tells in the Cin
cinnati Enguirer how General Sedg
wick came to be killed at Spottsylva
nia. Said General McMahon : "I
went out there with him and said,
•General, 1 wish you wouldn’t stay
out here.’ ”
“What is the matter?” said he.
While we were speaking these sharp
shooters' balls would come, making a
noise like an insect in midsummer -
something of a scream and something
of a grind ng in the sound.
“Why, General,” said I, “wo have
lost several officers this morning.
These are telescopic rifles, and they
are evidently picking out the officers.”
"Oh, pshaw,' said General Sedg
wick, “I don't believe they could hit an
elephant at that distance.”
“At this moment one of those balls
came scree ni ing through the air and
suddenly stopned ; it stopped with a
kind of lumping or thudding sound.
J thought I was hit myself, and I
turned to Sedgwick, and there was a
smile on his face.”
“Said I : “General,” and I repeated
the word “General." At that moment
there burst from his cheek, right un
der the eye, a great spurt of blood,
which fell upon my face and breast,
and he turned half way and fell on
me; he was a heavy man, and we
both fell to the ground, myself all cov
ered with his blood. I called him
“General” repeatedly, telling him to
speak -to hear me. I was in dreadful
agony of mind, and could not believe
he was dead. Although the blood con
tinued to pour from his wound that
smiling expression never left his lips.
When he was shot I could see the
men in that instant, distressed as I
was, crawling up out of their rifle pits
and little ramparts on their hands,
looking at us from both directions. I
can still see that scene of surprise, as
tonishment, wonder, grief all along
that blue line. We took him back
through the line of battle, and then
I got on my horse and rode to Grant’s
headquarters. I was covered with
blood, and when I went in first they
thought I was wounded.
Said I, “No,” interpreting what they
meant.
In a minute they all cried out,
“Sedgwick.”
I burst into tears, and sat down
there and cried.
Curious Compliments.
As a sign of affection, kissing was
unknown to the Australians, the New
Zealanders, the Papuans, the Esquim
aux and other races. The Polynesians
and the .Malays always sit down when
speaking to a superior. The inhabi
tants of Mal'icolo, an island in the
Pacific ocean, show their admiration
fy hissing; the E quimaux pull a per
son’s nose as a compliment; a ( hina
man puts on his hat where we should
take it off, and among the same curi
ous people a coffin is c nsidere 1 as a
neat and appropriate present for an
aged person, especially if in bad health.
@he Summerville
VOL. XII. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 2, 1885. NO. 33.
The Tiro Villages.
Z>ver the river on the hill
Lieth a village quiet and still;
Ml around it the forest trees
Shiver and whisper in the breeze.
3ver it, sailing shadows go
Jf soaring hawk, and screaming crow,
\nd mountain grasses low and sweet
□ row in the middle of every street.
)ver the river under the hill
Another village lieth still;
there I see in the cloudy night
['winkling stars of household light,
Pires that gleam from the smithy s door,
Mists that curl on the river shore,
And in the road no grasses grow
For the wheels that hasten to and fro.
In that village on the hill
Ne’er a sound on smith or mill;
I'he houses are thatched with grasses and
flowers,
Never a clock to tell the hours;
I’he marble doors are always shut,
You cannot enter in hail or hut,
All the village lieth asleep,
Never again to sow or reap,
Never in dreams to moan or sigh,
Silent and idle and low they lie.
In that village under the lull
When the night is starry an 1 still,
Many a weary soul in prayer
Looks to the other village there,
And weeping and si .king longs to go
Up to that home from this below,
Longs to sleep in the forest wild,
Whither have vanished wife and child,
And hoareth praying, this answer fall
“Patience! This village shall hold you all!”
Every Other Saturday,
Charity in Masquerade.
As the phrase goes, I always feel
very much put out whenever I hear
the complaint: “There are no really
good people, now-a-days.” One might
suppose that the present time was the
worst since the creation of Adam, and
that his descendants, everywhere
were inhuman alike. I feci inclined
to reply : “It isn’t at all true, although
there are knaves enough in the world,
and our own country has more than
its quota of rascals.’ A bad deed is
quickly known everywhere, but a no
ble action, one truly bravo and unsel
fish, Is slowly ad vertisol. Why then
should I be silent when 1 learn of a
good man’s act of goodness? Let me
now tell of such a deed which hap
pened not long ago.
It was a bright summer day in Vi
enna, and the grand Prater was
thronged with people in holiday at
tire. Beneath the superb trees, in this
noted public garden, old and young,
rich and poor, strolled about and many
strangers came to share in the festivi
ties. Where so much cheerfulness
abounds, he, too, has something to
hope for, who ask’s charity’s bestowal
from his fellow man ; hence a large
crowd of beggars, organ-grinders and
harp-players were assembled there, all
seeking to earn a few coins from the
passers-by.
For several years there had lived in
Vienna a pensioner, whose bounty
irom the government was so small
that it scarcely allowed him the nec
essaries of life. He would not beg, so
he took his violin, which his father, a
Bohemian, had taught him to play,
and stood under a famous old tree in
the Prater, while his trained poodle
sat before him with an old hat in his
mouth, into which fell whatever pieces
of money the people were inclined to
give. On this holiday, the veteran
stood there an 1 fiddled, and, as usual,
the dog sat before him with the hat in
his mouth, but the people passed by,
and the has remained empty.
Could they but once have looked at
him they must have had pity. Thin
white hair scarcely covered his head ;
he was wrapped in a soldier’s thread
bare coat. He had fought in great
battles, and many a scar had he re
ceived in remembrance of them. Only
three fingers on the right hand held
the bow. A bullet had carried off the
two others, and almost at the same
time another rifle ball had shattered
his leg.
But the holiday-makers never no
ticed him, although he had bought
strings for his violin with his last
earnings, and was striving to play his
old marches and dances with all his
might. Sadly and mournfully the oid
man gazed at the crowds of people, at
their happy faces, and at their gay
costumes. Every laugh seemed to stab
him ; to-night he would have to lie
down hungry on his straw bed in the
garret. His poodle was better off, for
he might perhaps find a bone in the
street, with which he could allay his
hunger.
It was getting late in the afternoon
The pensioner’s hopes were as near
setting as the sun, for several of the
people were leaving. A deep look of
sadness came over his weather-beaten,
scarred face. He little thought that a
well-dressed gentleman was standing
not far from him, who had been lis
tening and looking at him with an ex
pression of the deepest pity. When at
last it seemed fruitless to remain, an 1
his tired fingers could no longer guide
the bow, nor his leg bear him, he sat
down on a stone, supporting his head
oq his hands, and shed a few bitter
tears,
The gentleman, leaning against the ;
trunk of a tree, had seen how the '
wounded hand had wiped the veteran’s
tears away, so that the eye of the
world might see no trace of them. It
seemed as if the tears had touched the .
stranger's heart, for he hastily step
ped forth, and giving the old man a
gold coin said, “Lend me your violin
for a moment.” The poor soldier
looked up in speechless gratitude at I
the gentleman, whose German was as j
awkward as his own fiddle-playing. ;
Nevertheless, he understood him, and :
gave him his violin. It was not such
a very poor one, but the fiddler played j
it badly. The gentleman tuned it as ■
\ true as a boll, and said, “Now my good ;
fellow, you take your money, and I
will play.” Then ho began to play so I
beautifully that the tiddler looked at
his violin with curiosity, and thought j
it never could be the same instrument j
for the tone seemed to pierce through j
the soul, and the music to roll out like |
pearls. It seemed at times as if angels’
voices were rejoicing, and then as if
ieep tones of sorrow came out of it,
which so moved the heart that all eyes
filled with tears.
And now the people remained stand
ing looking at the gentleman, and lis- I
toning to the wonderful music ; every J
one saw how he was playing for the I
poor man, but no one knew' him. The j
audience grew larger and larger ; even |
the carriages of the richer people j
stopped, and every one discovered
what was the intention of the for
eigner, and gave liberally. Gold, sil
ver and copper fell into the hat, ac
cording as the giver felt disposed.
The poodle began to growl ; was it |
from pleasure or anger? He could I
hold the hat no longer, so heavy had it
become.
"Empty it, old man I” cried one of
the spectators, “It will soon be full
again.”
The old man did so, and sure enough
ho had to empty it again once more
into his bag, in which ho usually put
his violin. The stranger stood there
with beaming eyes, and played so that
bravoes rang out one after the other.
Every one was charmed. At last the
violin broke out into thn splendid air
of the song, "God Preserve the Em
peror.” All hats and caps were im
mediately removed ; for the Austrians
loved their Emperor Francis with all |
their hearts, as he truly deserved ; and
the enthusiasm of the people reached
such a height that they all suddenly
began to sing. The violinist played
until the song was ended ; then he i
placed the violin in the pensioner’s :
lap, and before the old man could say
a word of thanks he was gone.
“Who was that?” cried the people,
A gentleman stepped forward and
said “I know him well, he is the
accomplished violinist Alexander
Boucher, who has been employing liis
art in the service of charity. Let us
never forget his noble example.”
He then held his hat, and again the
money poured into it for the benefit
of the old pensioner. Every one gave,
and when the gentleman had emptied
this money into the p or man’s bag, he
cried, “Three cheers for Boucher !”
“Three cheers!” cried the crowd, and
the pensioner folded his hands anil
’ prayed that choicest benisons might
, descend upon the home of his amiable
' patron.
Vagaries of the Insane.
A lunatic at the Morris Plains Asy
lum was mute for five years. Even the
physicians thought he had lost the
power of speech. One day he caught
i two of his fingers in a washing-ma-
I chine, and they were horribly mangled.
I To the astonishment of every body
I who heard him he exclaimed: “By the
great and jumping Moses, a devil is
better than an inventor.” That was
three years ago, and he has not spoken
since. Another patient, a boy in the
same institution, is a lightning calcu
lator. The most intricate problems
are solved by him in fractions of a
minute. The boy believes that his
i head is filled with little blocks with
figures upon them, and that they in
stantly fall into different positions and
; work out the problems. He thinks
! his brain. In fact, is a multiplication
table. Ills insanity seems pardonable,
for only a few sane men can compete
with him as a mathematician. Every
day he soaks his head in water to pre
vent the blocks from rattling, and oc
casionally he begs for oil to put into
his ears so that the imaginary squares
will slip upon each other more easily.
—if orristown Jersey man.
Phenomenon Explained.
Westerner—“ Yes, siree; it’s true
too. The grounds on which Virginia
i City stands has moved thirty inches
I since ’75.”
Stranger—“ Well, 1 suppose it’s all
right, but it doesn’t seem possible.”
“Os course it’s all right. I’ve got
the measurements to prove it.”
“How do you account for the pheno
menon ?”
“Well, I don’t know. It always was
| a go-ahead place.’’ Call.
Sam Patch’s Last Leap.
A correspondent of the Cincinnati
Commercial Gazette, who describes
himself as an eye witness of Sam
Patch’s last two jumps, writes as fol
. lows : “Sam Patch, the famous ca
teract leaper, who assorted that ‘some
things could be done as well as others,’
took his ‘Final, eternal and life’s fatal
leap,’ as a local poet expressed it at
I the time, on a gloomy day in Novem
| her in the year 1829. lie had ‘jumped’
; the Genesee Falls at Rochester, their
natural height, a week before, and was
induced by the gamblers and roughs
who were managing and living
' oil him to repeat the feat on the fatal
occasion. They erected a sort of scaf
fold on the jutting rock whence he had
I taken his departure on the previous
I occasion, making it 25 feet above the
! rock, or 120 feet in all from the scaf
j fold floor to tlie surface of the river
|at the foot of the falls. Ascending to
i the scaffold with some difficulty, con-
I siderably inebriated, and by a steep
ladder, the unfortunate demonstrator
straightened up with a jerk, bowed
awkwardly on all sides to the witness
ing thousands, then pushed a pet bear
oft he had with him, and instantly
i leaped forward himself. His person
j ‘canted over’ on the left side, and
■ struck the water forcibly, no doubt
I bruising him and forcing the breath
from his body. Nothing more was
j seen of him till the next March, when
his corpse was discovered among some
bushes at the mouth of the river,
seven miles below, very much muti
lated, but recognizable by a handker
chief tied around the body. Patch,
| beginning on the schooner yard-arms
lat Patterson, N. J., was a special
leaper for 20 years or more, jumped
from amazing heights at Niagara
thrice before he tried the Genesee rap
ids, and challenged the inspection of
admiring thousands to the realities of
his feats. If yet living he would be
about 90 years of age, but who knows
if he had not tackled John Alcohol,
his bear, and a great leap at one and
the same time he might not be jump
ing yet.?”
General Butler Toboggans.
When I first went to Washington,
the western approach to the Capitol,
before the pending “improvements”
were commenced, was through a lino
I old park, the heavy foliage of which
in spring concealed much of the Capi
tol from view. The approach then
lei up two steep parallel terraces,
j which extended the whole length of
; the building. The pages, in winter
i time, took advantage of these declivi
j ties for coasting. Instead of sleds,
• however, they used certain large paste
( board envelope-boxes, which they ob
tained from the folding-rooms.
One day, the terraces and park
grounds were covered with a thick,
hard coat of sleet; so the envelope-box
es were brought out, and the lively
tabogganing began. In the midst of
the sport. General Benjamin F. Butler,
accompanied by a few other represen
tatives, camo along, and stopped on
the parapet to witness the fun. As
he seemed to enjoy the sight, one of
the pages asked Idm if he would tai; .
a ride. After a brief deliberation, the
General remarked: “Well, 1 think I
will."
In a moment a box was placed at
his disposal near the edge of the para
pet, or upper terrace. In this, with
considerable difficulty, the portly rep
resentative ensconced himself, and
; soon he stated that he was “ready.”
At the word, the pages gave him a
vigorous shove, and down ho went
with lightning swiftness, to the great
delight of the assembled spectators.
As with increased momentum he
j struck the second terrace, the box
i parted, and with terrific speed, he fin
ished the trip, "all by himself." And
I he was still going when lost in the dis
tance of the park!— St. Nicholas.
A Prominent Preacher’s Boyhood.
In a lecture entitled “From Anvil
to Pulpit” Rev. Robert Collyer says:
“My father had $4.50 a week to keep
his family on, and we got along with
surprising regularity. I was the eld
est of the family of children, and was
always glad of that. At that time
provisions were not nearly so cheap as
I now; there were no cheap schools, and
the schools were not very common, and
such as they were you had to pay for
i them. Yet that good mother made
that income stand good enough foralL
We lived on oatmeal and milk in plen
ty, with just a bit of meat when we
could get hold of it; a mug o f tea and
white bread on Sundays, brown bread
the rest of the time. My mother
would make soup on Sundays, aud
would say to us boys, ’Now, boys, he
who drinks the most soup shall have
the most meat.’ We would drink as
much as we could carry: then she
would say, ‘Well, you can’t eat any
more; we will save the meat until to
morrow.’ With such a training as
this it is no wonder that I hardly know
! what you mean by indigestion.”
A MINER’S QUEER STORY. (
How He Obtained the Name I
of “Pocket-book Sam.” 1
s
A Jenny’s Appetite for Greenbacks Nearly , s
Results in a Lynching.
________ t
An old Colorado miner told a party '
of listeners, among whom was a New J
York Sun correspondent, the follow- e
ing story of how he came to be called •
"Pocket-book Sam.” *■
“When I came to Colorado some a
eighteen years ago, I went first of all 1
to Fairplay, in Park county. It was I
a pretty rough place then, and 1 was f
well enough pleased to go up to Alma, 1
where an excitement was just begin- 1
ning. My partner at that time was a J
man named Steve Cutter. It was well '
on in winter when we went, but we 1
hadn't been there very long when one *
day, as I was w’orking my way round a *
ridge on Mount Lincoln, I came across 1
an outcrop that looked too good in my 1
eye to let it pass. Steve had a look at I
it the next day, and laughed at me as !
a tenderfoot for paying attention to
such a showing. 1 had faith enough,
however, to go to work at it, though
the snow was very deep. Before the
end of January there was as pretty a
show of mineral as man could wish.
1 had got about twenty feet under the
grass roots by that time, and it would
have done your heart good to see how
Steve, and, in fact, almost every one
in camp, changed their tune about the
Russia.
“I determined to take a jack load of
ore over to Fairplay to see if I couldn’t
interest moneyed men in the property.
I went to Mr. Birge, who was the
principal merchant at the time, and he
lent me a jenny to pack my ore, and at
the same time asked me to get $1,200
for him at the bank and bring it over.
I agreed readily enough, and 1 started
out. I made one grand mistake here.
I hadn’t the Russia recorded yet. The
only thing to show who the owners
were was the location stake at the
mouth of the shaft, giving half and
half to me and Steve. If I had taken
the trouble to record the certificate
while in Fairplay, half would have
been mine in spite of anybody. As it
was, if I were out of the way Steve
could get the whole mine by simply
rubbing my name off the stake. But
I trusted him too fully to think of such
a thing.
“I left my ore to have assays made,
got tlie money in the shape of a roll of
bills, and started back through a heavy
storm of wet snow. By the time I
reached the cabin at Alma it had
cleared off and a bright sun was shin
ing, but I was wet through. I laid
my coat in the sun to dry, and on top
of it spread the bills, for they were
damp. 1 then went to get something
to eat. Steve was outside smoking,
and the jenny was picking up what it
. could find near the cabin. On coining
out I went to my coat, and to my hor
' ror the money was gone. At first I
thcught Steve was trying toplay a
* trick on me, lint Im assured mo that
j he hadn’t seen the money; that either
it had blown away or else the jenny
had eaten it. There wasn’t a breath
j of wind stirring, so I finally concluded
it had gone down the jenny’s throat.
“I went over to Birge’s and told him
I’d lost his money, and the whole story.
He didn’t seem inclined to believe it,
but said little at the time. I went to
I bed pretty early that night, feeling
. tired. I had hardly got asleep when a
j gang of fellows with Birge at their
t head, broke into the cabin. Almost
t before I could speak they had a rope
round my neck and the other end over
9 abeam in the roof. The rope tight
c ened, and a fellow called out that I hail
just five minutes to give up the money
j or die. Good God! I was so choked 1
could hardly breathe, 1 don’t know
what 1 did. I tried to tell them I
hadn’t the money, that it was realiy
lost, but they only jerked the rope
I and told me to hurry up or they
; would string me. 1 broke into a cold
5 sweat. I fell on my knees and begged
j and prayed for life. Those few min
. ute were years tome, and 1 had given
j up all hope, when I heard Birge’s
, voice:
9 “Let the critter go, boys; -let’s lead
] him out of town like tlie thief he is,
1 with a rope round his nec;, and if he
p ever comes back we’ll hang him.’
3 “ ‘Go on with the hanging,’ yelled
. half a dozen; we don’t want any
- thieves in Alma.’
a “ ‘No; I lost the money, audit’s my
1 say,’ replied Birge.
I “After a lot of talk they let me
down and I breathed again. Then
I they led me out of town. I made
) tracks, you can believe. I stopped in
3 Boulder. When I had been there
3 about three weeks, one night Birge
a and three miners came to my board
r ing house. Birge walked up to me,
■ and said lie, ‘Sam, shake old boy; we’v
-3 got the money all safe. We treate l
r you like a. dog, and we’ve come t
apologize.’
“I could hardly trust my ears, but j
they soon told the story. The very (
next day after I’d been led out of Al- t
ma, my partner Steve was caught in a f
snow slide while going up to the Rus- 1
sin, probably to take off my name. He I
lived long enough th be brought to
town and to make a confession.
While I was inside the cabin the
jenny, snuffing round for something to
eat, had very innocently protruded <
her tongue and taken into her mouth (
the whole $1200.' Steve happened to (
see her just as she was about swallow- j
ing her valuable rations, ran to her, ]
put his hand in her mouth, seized the (
greenbacks and brought them out. He ,
then hid them, with the almost fatal
result to me that I have described, i
lie pointed out where he had hidden I
it, and Birge got his money. I was i
brought back to Alma iu triumph, and i
they gave me a pocketbook with a cool
thousand in it to make up. But I 1
wouldn’t go through such another 1
time for twice a thousand. After that
they called me Pocket-book Sam. I
sold the Russia for $30,000, and that
was the beginning of my fortune.”
Feelings of an Opium Smoker.
“I don’t deny I’m an opium smoker,”
he said, “for several reasons, the main
one being that my looks, the color of
my skin and my wasted form would
tell any observer different. It’s a ter
rible thing, and in the course of a few
years will kill me, but as 1 haven’t
got any thing particular to live for,
am alone in the world and like to en
joy myself, I don’t know but what
I’m doing just what most of the world
is doing, or trying to do—enjoy my
self. It’s a wonderful satisfaction to
be able to lie alongside of a bamboo
pipe, have somebody cook your ‘dope,’
smoke your fill of the drug, and know
that you are tree from the desire to
gain a name for yourself in this world,
and that you couldn’t get rich if you
tried, ‘so there’s no use in trying.’
But it’s ruin to the man or woman
who once gets the ‘habit.’ Don’t you
know what tlie ‘habit’ is? Well, I'll
tell you: It is a craving to smoke opi
um. it’s worse a good deal than the
whiskey habit. When the feeling
comes upon you, you’ve got to smoke;
when that feeling comes upon you for
the first time, you know that you are
a ‘fiend;’ you might just as well give
up all hopes of ever amounting to any
thing, for they will only make your
life miserable, and at last die out, only
to haunt you now and then when you
get the blues and curse the day you
ever put a pipe to your mouth. Wiiat
is the‘habit’ like? Well, 1 couldn’t
exactly tell you, for it comes upon peo
ple in different ways. I get it twice
and sometimes three times a day.
When it comes upon me the perspira
tion stands out on tny face and fore
head in great big drops. If I do not
obey tlie summons of my master my
bones begin to ache, until at last 1 am
forced to go. I drag myself along up
to a ‘joint’ I generally go to, and in
twenty minutes I am at peace witli
myself and the world again. A half
dozen ‘pills’ have cured my ‘habit.’ and
a half-dozen more have charged my
system full enough to last me six
hours. At the end of that time lam
summoned again, the same perform
ance is gone through, the same enjoy
ment and satisfaction are experienced,
and here I am, an opium smoker, a
person who lives for nothing else in
God’s w'orld but to smoke opium.
Would you believe it? Well, it’s tho
case with just one thousand other men
in this town no older than myself, and
I ain’t twenty-eight yet.”— San Fran
cisco Chronicle.
A Woman’s Way.
“Did you ever notice how a woman
takes the cork out of a bottle?”
“No, I think not. Did you?”
“Yes.”
“How does she do it?”
“Why, she nails it with her teeth,
bites it off, and then gets mad and
breaks the bottle. If she don’t do it
that way, she takes a knife and prods
and pries around the stopper till she
cuts her finger, and then, when the
blood begins to run and her Dutch
gets up, she throws the knife across
the room, shoves the cork into the bot
tle, spanks the first young one she gets
her hand on, and then sits down and
takes a good cry.”— Chicago Ledger.
Why She Felt Acquainted.
It is in no sense a part of an Amer
ican minister’s duty to act as social
sponsor for ambitious nobodies, or to
introduce at court people who do not
know how to behave when they get
■ there. A once too easily persuaded
minister yielded to the teasing of one
of his countrywomen and presented
her at the court of one of the Conti
nental nations. The Queen received
her most kindly, but judge of the min-
■ ister’s horror when, to her Majesty’s
i kindly welcome, the American woman
replied: “I really feel as if I had known
you a long time, you know we go to
the same chiropodist III” Boston
j BiMolin.
LADIES’ COLUMN.
Reautlful at Four Score.
And old lady over eighty years of age,
and who was once a great beauty, died
icce’.itly in Paris, leaving alter her a
d nry in which she endeavors to show up
the alleged vanity of women. From the
age of twenty to thirty she spent three
hours a day at her toilet, which foots up
for the period one year ninety-one days
aud six hours employed in dressing her
hair, powdering her cheeks and painting
her lips. From thirty to fifty the toilet
labors amounted to five hours a day, the
extra hours being consecrated to cover
ing up the tracks of time, including the
obliteration of crows’ feet and other
necessary filling in and grading. Time,
four years and forty days. After fifty
her efforts had to be redoubled. To the
last she resisted the effects of time.
CI iengo Herald.
How Tadics should Ride.
The horsewoman should sit so that the
weight of the body falls exactly in the
centre of the saddle, without heavily
bearing on the stirrup, able to grasp the
upright pommel with the right knee, and
press against the “hunting horn” with
her left knee, yet not exerting any mus
cular action for that purpose. For this
end the stirrun leather must be neither
too long nor too short. The ideal of a
fine horsewoman is to be erect without
being rigid, square to the front and,
until quite at home in the saddle, look
ing religiously between her horse’s ears.
The shoulders must, therefore, be square,
but thrown back a little so as to expand
the chest and make a hollow waist,
“such as is observed in waltzing,” but
always flexible. On the flexibility of the
person above the waist and on the firm
ness below all the grace of equestrianism
—all the safety depends. Nervousness
makes both men and women poke their
heads forward—a stupid trick In a man,
unpardonable in a woman. A lady
should bend like a willow in a storm, al
ways returning to an easy yet nearly up
right position. This seat should be ac
quired while the lady’s horse is led, first
by hand, then with a leading stick and
finally with a luncheon rein, which will
give room for cantering in circles. But
where the pupil is encumbered with
reins, a whip and directions for guiding
her horse she may be excused for forget
ing all about her seat or her position.
The arms down to the elbows should
hang loosely near, but not fixed to tha
sides, and the bands, in the absence ol
reins, may rest in front of the waist.—
Plalailelphia Timet.
Fashion INotew.
Double skirts are seen on new dresses.
Lace parasols in all colors are seldom
lined.
Old-fashioned sprigged muslins are in
style again.
Thin veilings make the prettiest ol
summer dresses.
White nun’s veiling remains in favor
as nice dresses for misses.
Wedgewood designs in table ware are
again popular and in much demand in
this country.
Poppy red and blue serge jackets will
be worn on morning walks with muslin
and cotton dresses.
The little drawn muslin hats, which
were formerly only worn by children, are
worn by ladies as garden hats this sea
son.
Tunics, polonaises and every kind of
drapery used for figured materials are
equally adapted for flowered lawns and
cambrics.
Jetted zouave jackets, very short and
beaded in small designs, are worn over
waists of house dresses of black silk,
satin or surah.
Pretty white muslin and linen lawn
dresses for misses are made with a titled
basque that is worn with a belt of velvet
ribbon that has a bow on tlie side.
A tucked sKirt is in good style for
oft, thin woolens, and should be made
in lengthwise tucks for older ladies mid
in horizontal tucks for young ladies and
misses.
A Popular Mexican Resort
Santa Anita, the first village on the
Viga beyond the city of Mexico, writes
a correspondent to the San Francisco
Chronicle, is the universal rallying point
on Sundays for both natives and sight
seers from the capital. There is always
a fiesta at Santa Anita, and there the. In
dians are eternally dancing, singing and
pulque-drinking. On arriving at this
village the first business of everybody is
to secure a wreath of poppies and corn
flowers, which the women wear upon
their tangled hair and the men upon
their sombreros—though perhaps the
human form divine thus beautifully
crowned may bo but partially covered
with scant and dirty rags. Lovely
wreaths sell for a madeo (six cents)
apiece, and the woman, young or old,
who is not wreathed before the day is
over is either deep in disgrace or hope
lessly out of fashion. This native love
of flowers is a direct heritage from the
swarthy founder of these floating gar
-1 dens. History tells us that the most
1 valuable gift which Montezuma present
ed to the Spanish ambas ador of his
court was accompanied by a bouquet;
and a strange anomaly it must have
<eemed, this love of the beautiful com
bined with their blood-curdling religion.
’ Baron Von Humboldt remarked upon it
' centuries afterward. To-day those who
1 sit in the market places must embower
1 themselves in gieen branches garlanded
’ with flowers, while even prosaic pulque
I barrels are wreathed with roses, and
• mugs and pitchers similarly bedecked
I The poorest village church has its floor
strewn with blossoms, and fresh bou
i qiiets are arranged upon all the altars
i before service begins. The babe at its
christening,the child at its confirmation,
, the bride at her wedding, the corpse in
its coffin, are alike adorned.