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Nis?lit Ride oil the Mississippi.
Old dreams ari9e, and their haunting eyes,
Like stars on a streamlet, glow,
As memory's moon lights up the gloom
Hound the grave of years ago,
MOONI.IOHT OS THE MISSISSIPPI.
When the first footsteps of dawn tinged the
east with a rose flush, we had steamed out from
St Louis. All day I sat on the aft guard and
laughed with the sunlit waters, and sang with
the breeze. All day I watched the corn tassels
and vine leaves swaying in the summer wind,
the millet fields bowing and bending their green
and golden plumes, the quiet meadows stretch
ing away from the river banks, where the mow
er's scythe, in measured and musical rhythm,
swept down the breast-high grasses, full of gold
and crimson and purple blossoms. How I loved
to watch the shadows chase the sunbeams across
the mountain sides, and weave fantastic legends
for the grey, over-hanging cliffs that rose, like
castles, high up along the mountain sides, with
the sound of dripping waters in their moss-
covered corridors, and wild-wood flowers thrust-
their bright heads through the ruined walls.
The long day draws to its close. The west is
ablaze with crimson and gold; and, stretching
far up to the zenith, are mountains of snow, and
pearl, purple and black, with their dark edges
tinged with gold, and floating around them soft
rosy rifts like showers of scattered rose leaves.
Now the pomp of this dying splendor fades
into the grey hue of death and silence, and,
parting the pearl and azure curtains that drape
her cloudy couch, the young moon rises. The
shores are mirrored in the stream, with every
line and curve in sharp, dark shadow, the tall
reeds on the banks are aglow with fire-flies, and
the dark meadows beyond blaze like a phosphor
escent sea; the sharp bow of the boat cuts dark
against the current, the lamps grow large and
lustrous, mirrored in the stream, and broad
lines of silvery, waving light follow each rush
ing keel. Great filmy nets, like gigantic spec
ter’s webs, weave in the misty light, where the
tree shadows tremble in the stream. The
moonbeams shimmer down with that pale, sweet,
primrose light peculiar to the north, not with
the deep golden mellow radiance of the southern
summer nights.
I lean over the rail, humming softly, and
watching the silver waves gleam brightly away
into the sweet, tremulous darkness of the hills
We are nearing a little village in the mountains,
a beautiful green nook in a deep gorge, with
one of the many hill torrents rushing and foam
ing down its rocky sides. The hills around rise
steep and sombre, their sides dark with oak and
pine, a babbling stream runs through the ravine,
and the bridge, with its painted arch, rises over
it. Quaint and grey, and deep in the centre,
between the lines of hills, the white village
nestlts like a swan settling herself to sleep upon
her reedy river nest. Luting on it, you dream
of clear Alpine water?
meadows; of fif-clad
heavens, with pearly
skies; of deep-gree
deer sleeps at mid
ows scare the tim
bed.
I lean on the r;
glancing among
lilies, or gleam
leaves grow thi
The bell rii
like vibration
thousand echoi
^Ruge volumes,
the giar f .of st 1
weLhirour
through green
^limbing to the
jing on azure
, where the
istly shad-
his leafy
e fire-flies
king on the
ire the vine
with a wave-
and wake a
sleeping hills.
,vn the stream;
and hoarse as
current,
one on the
of battle, and red with the blood of brothers
The summer moonlight glimmers through the
heavy boughs and blossoms of a magnolia tree,
and under it is gathered a knot of soldiers, clus
tering around a dying comrade. A little apart
stands a boy—a mere child he seems, with bis
soft, rose-red cheeks and sunny curls. He sobs
and moans with a pitiful, heart-breaking sound,
like a dying dog slain by the hand he loved. I
go up to him, lay my hand on his head, and ask
for whom he grieves.
“Oh lady ! Harry is dying—dying ! he is dy
ing for me; and I—oh ! I cannot die with him ! "
“Who is Harry? your brother?
“No, no; my comrade, my protector my onl£
friend. We were out to-day, and were caught in
an ambush; a cavalryman rode at me; Harry
rushed in between and took the sabre cut that
was aimed at me—and he is dying—dying for
me; and oh ! I cannot die with him.”
I stoop and caress him, and try, in my poor,
blind way, to comfort him. Suddenly the dying
man's voice rings out in the night air:
“Whose voice is that? Is Nora coming?
Bring her to me—tell her she can come now, for
I am dying.
A soldier comes towards me, lifts his cap, and
says, sadly:
“Lady, will you come to him? He is sinking
fast. ”
Who is this? What fleeting, mocking ghost of
long ago haunts me in this man’s face ? Before
me lies the bronzed and bearded face, the strong,
athletic sinewy frame of a man of thirty. Surely
I have seen that face and heard that voice be
fore—but when? and where?
He is wounded unto death—has not an hour
to live; but his voice is strong and his cheek
flushed, for the fire of delirium burns in his
veins. He snatches my hand, and looks w.ldly,
appealingly in my face.
“Are you Nora? No, no; she would not come
to me. She has not given me one word, one
look, in all these weary years. It is only the
ghost of the old dead love that comes to haunt
my dying hour. Off! do not touch me with that
faithless hand ! do not look at me with those
eyes that only mock my pain! do not speak to
me with those false lips that all these years have
fooled him with their lying vows and soulless
kisses !J”
What voice of the old dead days is this that
rises, fierce and frenzied, upon the night air,
in mournful song?
Oh! speak no more, for on memory’s shore
Still soundeth the syren tone
That from living lips for another speaks,
But is s lent to me alone;
Over passion’s grave the wild winds rave,
And its mound with sea. ed leaves spread;
Ah ! here is no tone with a knell so lone
As the voice of a hope that's dead.
O’er that face so fair, with its rippling hair,
And its eyes of cloudless blue,
Dead memories stream with a baleful gleam,
Like a carp-light’s livid hue;
For there is no hell where demons dwell
In a shape so weird and dread.
As the serpent’s eyes thut gleaming rise
In the halls of a dream that’s dead.
Back ! back I to the cold of the graveyard mould;
The sheet and the clay-stained shroud.
With a warmer thrill could my pulses fill
Than the faithless love you vowed;
For there is no ghost in the pallid host,
That wander with soundless tread,
With a pulse so still, and a breath so chill.
As the ghost of a love tuat’s dead.
JlDg ca«^Jof
still air( its tonesjekar as a beil, and sweet as
the matin song of the meadow lark. I lean over
the railing and look down to the lower deck. It
carries its accustomed freight of foreign emi
grants. Italy, France, Germany, and all north
ern Europe meet and mingle in a confused jar
gon that reminds one of the tower of Babel and
the confusion of tongues; and the household
gods of the old world are tumbling in chaotic
con usion among piles of corn and hay; and
sheep bleat and cattle low in curious concert
with the human tongues. Among this mixture
of all lands and*” tongues, 1 had noticed during
the day one who, though with them, was surely
not of them. A youth just climbing the sunny
slope of manhood; tall, graceful as a young
pine, gay as the sunlight, changeful as the wind,
with eyes dark,wistful, andlustrous with dreams,
and lips curved like Cupid’s bow, and bright as
the sunlight with smiles. What mad wind ot
fortune or caprice has blown him there among
that seething mass of ignorance and vice. Who
can tell ? But there he lies, his straw hat thrown
aside, his chestnut curls blowing in the soft
west wind, at which the sheep nibble as they
clamber over him, and his bright, laughing face
turned up in the moonlight. He laughs and
pats the sheep, and jokes gaily with the rude
representatives of the old world, answering
each one in his own language as freely as if it
was his mother-tongue.
And he sings—oh ! shades of the masters dead
and gone, how he sings! Hour after hour I sit,
motionless, speechless, entranced, as the notes
float over the waters and die away among the
echoes of the distant hills. On they float, “in
constant as the changing wind,” veering from
“grave to gay, from lively to severe,” without
a moment’s pause between. Where can he have
gathered all this wondrous wealth of melodious
lore? Songs of every age and of every clime,
sounds embodying every pulse-beat of the hu
man heart; quaint old Scotch and Irish airs, ren
dered with a fidelity of accent that make you
deem him a native of the highlands and the
lochs, gems from every opera of the old world,
burlesques and negro melodies, and pure, sweet
old English ballads, mingled in a strange and
rapid confusion at once wonderful and gro
tesque. Now, the whole power and pathos and
passion of a breaking human heart are poured
out on the midnight air, in the simple words
and solemn, pathetic tones of “Auld Kobin
Gray”—and then, with scarcely a moment’s
pause, rings out the most curious and grotesque
melange—first, in full, swelling, melodious
measure, with long-drawn notes that fairly wring j
the heart with their yearning pathos of regret, j
the words: ;
Wild and weird and fierce the song floats up
ward. My pulses stand still. Where, oh, faith
less memory, where did I hear that voice in the
old sunny years? Suddenly, as if in answer to
my heart’s unspoken cry, the full, melodious,
long-drawn notes swell out—
“ I lovid her, and she might have been
The happiest in the land.”
And again the old whimsittal debonair smile flits
over the dying face, and (he oid careless melo-j
dy dances upon the wind:
‘ But she fancied a foreigner who played a flagelette
In the middle of a tierman band.”
The second verse of the well-remembered
melody floats up among the trees, and the first
regretful, pathetic lament swells out with all
the passion of a dying breath:
“ I loved her—and—she might
The hands drop nerveless, the eyelids close,
a short, gasping sob—and my stray moonbeam,
my will-o’-the-wisp, has faded away forever.
Wake' ’tis the night-wind's moan
Hound the eaves;
List! as its sobbing tone
Sadly grieves
Round the lone haunted spring
Where the weird night birds sing,
Silently scattering
Ouly leaves.
Where the bri ht billows's crest
Softly heaves;
Where the wild flower her nest
Deftly weaves;
Dropped from the mountain side
Into the crystal tide.
Idly along they glide,
Only leaves.
Slowly her pearly shroud
Summer weaves:
Sadly her misty cloud
Sobs and grieves;
Sighing lor roses fled.
Sobbing for lilies dead.
While her hands o’er them spread
Only leaves.
Wake! ’tis the spirits's moan
Round the eaves;
List! as its sobbing tone
Sadly grieves;
Round the lone haunted spring,
Silently scattering
Only leaves.
He sleeps under the spreading boughs of a
giant live oak; the river sings beside him, and
the white, rocking water lilies fling their fra
grance over his bed. Let no glaring sun light
in upon his grave or history. Let only soft
moonbeams visit his resting place, covering
with their silver haze each fleck and flaw of his
fitful life. Let only this be whispered of him,
“ greater love than this hath no man,” that he
lay down his life for another.
Moonlight in our Southland, how fair her beams glow 1
From the valley beneath, where the bright waters flow.
To the cloud-circled summit, where silvery bright.
Rests the evening star, royally. Queen of the night;
How slowly her beams fade, as night yields to dawn,
Serenely and soft, as the spirit of one
Who has fought the good fight, who has won the dark day,
Who has kept the faith sfadfastly, passes away.
Paris Fashions.
The Borrower A sain.
“ I loved her, and she might have been
The happiest in the land ; ”
then, quick as a lightning flash, dancing over
the waters with all the mocking mirthfulness of
a Bacchus— _
“ But she fancied a foreigner who^ilayed a flagelette
In the middle of a German band.”
Then followed a long ballad, always begin
ning with this plaintive, heart-breaking pathos,
and always ending with this careless, rollicking
ballet glee; holding all the sacrifice, all the pas
sion, all the pain; and also ail the graceful, care
less, world-wise cynicism of the whole volume
of “tanity Fair” within the simple compass of
its sound.
Who is this will-o’-the wisp ? Whence came
he? Whither does he go? And is this strange
medley that, through the magic of his wonder
ful voice, seems like the charming history of a
whole life, only the cereless improvisation of
an idle moment ? Only this, I know. I never
hear it before, never but once afterwards; but
every varying cadence, every rapidly-changing
chord and tone is graven on my memory, never
while I live to be worn away.
The moonbeams of ten summers have shone i
upon us, and our land is shrouded in the smoke |
I see in a late issue of “ our Sunny South ” an
article on newspaper borrowing and wish to speak
a few words to “ Patience. ”
I think she is “ casting her pearls before swine. ’
It is too true that the world is full of such people
as she describes—and to use her words “ do not
care whether you are interested or not, so they
get the paper. ”
And alas! for the world this principle is not
confined to newspaper borrowers. I think Patience
has made a martyr of herself in an undeserving
cause; (as thousands of other women are doing
to day ) Does not Patience remember that our
Patient and long-suffering Savior warned us not
to “ Cast your pearls before swine, lest they tram
ple them under their feet and turn again and rend
you.
I do not call it patient to be treated so, but
r..ther a lack of independence of character. If
Patience doe9 not respect her own rights, will her
selfish neighbors do so ? No, Verily.
Let Tatience teach her presumpiious and un
grateful neighbors a lesson on the subject of “ Res
pect for the rights and property of others. ”
Rrespectfully,
Mas. Courtney Bkodxax.
San Augustine, Texas.
The Toilets of an Actress—Sylisa Dresses at
the Races.
I Paris Letter in the LoLdon Truth.)
When a fashionable actress leaves Paris for an
TO CORRESPONDENTS.
_ _ _ All communications relating to this department of the
6ngag e nient atYl7e~seaslde,"it is the~ custom”no w “s’“^riUeTot th.‘envef^T ’ “ d ^
Chess Headquarters—Young lien’s Library Associa-
White.
1 Q Q R 8 ch
1 KtxPch
Black.
for her milliner to hold an exhibition of the
toilettes the celebrated artiste intends wearing,
on and off the stage, and as Mile. Van Dyck is
to be the star at the theatre of the Casino at Vil-
lers this season, and as she is the happy posses
sor of a very graceful figure, which enables her
to wear, with elegance, the present style of four-
reaux and Princesse dresses, I was glad to go
and see the show.
The first dress was a walking costume of neig«
euse, buttoned en bias, or at the side, hussar
fashion, with skirt of maroon brown faille; the
next was a very becoming pink striped ba
tiste, made apron shape in front and coat shape
behind, trimmed with white lace placed cross-
ways to the stripes, and then there was a white
Pompadour costume, which she will wear in the I 1 Q Q 8 ch
comedy of “Je dine chez ma mere. I have for- l Pdis. ch
gotten however, to mention a Princesse dress in.
ecru-colored batiste, with blue border buttoned
en bias; with a broad plaited flounce at the bot
tom of the skirt, the bodice square at the neck,
with turn down lappet colarof blue and eern, the
, pockets and cuffs the same; lappet ornament of
ecru and blue, draped folds of the dress held
! together by bows of blue ribbon, and all the
borders, colar and cuffs covered with guipure
i lace.
There was a grand gathering of elegant ladies at
the chateau de Mouchy during the Beauvais
races; indeed notwithstanding the cloudy state
of politics, I have had the good fortune to have
been at several country parties; but I will only
tell you, to-day, of one or two of the dresses, be
ginning with my own. It is a long Princesse
shape, in white mousseline crepe lisse over a
pale pink faille transparent. The mousseline is
trimmed with white Russian lace and bows ot
pink ribbon. The silk corsage is low, the mous
seline jnst slightly opened at the neck, edged
with two-inch full frilloflace. The sleeves come
just below the elbow, with lace like the collar,
and bows of pink. It is the fashion to have the
bows of ribbon of a different tint or shade to the
dress; for instance, on dark dresses the bows are
of the same color but several shades lighter, on
light dresses they must be much darker in
shade. Sometimes I have observed different
colors are worn. I saw a very new stylish dress
of pale blue, with cherry colored ribbons. One
drees I admired was a vert mousse, or yellowish
foulard; the bottom of the skirt bad the usual
high plaited flonnee; polonaise without sleeves,
half low, opening at the breast, of some foulard,
but a lighter shade; all round the polonaise
there was a border of faille, en bias, same color,
with a slight edge of mandarine, bows of ribbon,
same shade as the dress.
tioa, Marietta street.
Original games and problems are cordially solicited for
this column. We hope our Southern friends will re
spond.
Problem D’Solveb Card to hand. Discussion is in
vited. Hope yon will point out errors under observa
tion. Problem 24—1. K Q Kt 4, Kt (ch.) Send some
games.
G. E. S.—Problem to hand; is too easy for my readers;
is good enough for a first attempt.
Problem So. 23—Correct solutions from Harry, Huzza
and Ben fuller.
f)U^U aglatto*.
fW So puzzleof any kind will receive attention unless
the answer accompanies it. Ali the parts must be an
swered fully and plainly.
We will try to answer puzzles, etc., two weeks after
their appearance.
Answers to Enigmas, Puzzles, etc.
SOLUTION TO PROBLEM SO. 25.
Black. Wh ite
It 2 |2 QxB mate —
So. 1. WORD-SqUARES.— (1)
CAPE
AREA
PEAR
E A| 3
i2)
DRAM A
ROVER
ALICE
MECCA
irute.
Kt Q 2 [ 2 Q mates.
QxB
I 2 Q Q 7 ch KorKtxQ mate
SOLUTIOS TO PROBLEM SO. 25%.
PxB (best) 3. Mate accordingly.
1. B Q 3
2. QKB Anything.
Other variations are obvious.
PROBLEM SO. 27.
By F. W. Martindale.
BLACK.
WHITE.
White to play and mate in four.
PROBLEM SO. 27%.
“ The Hermann Monument.”
To the memory of E. V. Brandel.
By J. Kohn.
K Kt; K 2 KKt3: KB 4;K4;Q4;QB3 K5 QB
The Danube.
No language cau possibly describe the superb
scenry of to-day’s journey. It far transcends
anything I ever saw or conceived of woodland or
river scenery. It is the part of the Danube wheie
the waters break from the great basin of Hungary
through the mountains. When we first left Or-
sova, the hills were one green wilderness of mass
ive and unbroken foliage, and the views up the
valley were very sweet indeed. But soon huge
and shadowy cliffs began to show themselves among
the woods, and once or twice the Danube pressed
its waters through awful wa!U of sheer precipice.
At first I thought it lijieltif Rhine, only much,
very much superior, 1 ecau^fcf the woods, instead
of miserable, tame, forniai’TffeyJrds; but present
ly the magnificence ani
of the scenery drove t);*
thoughts. The woods were! principally deciduous
trees with an immense profusion of walnut, an4
they were all matted together with wild vines,
clematis, nl very large white convolvulus, while
between its banks tie liver wri hed and boiled over
bars of rocks, effectually forbidding all navigation.
But now the clffs receded, and there came some
miles of incessant wood, beautiful valleys, through
whose woody gates we obtained exquisite glimpses
up the mountainous glens. One in particular I re
member, of consummate loveliness. It was on the
Servian shore; and far inland there rose a huge
mountain, in shape like a crouching lion, and the
valley broadened out, and left the mountain stand
ing alone against the sky. Then came a large sea
like bay, with a Servian village and church on a
tongue cf green fields. The broad river went by
gently, wheeling solemnly in glossy eddies. It
was a scene of perfect loveliness. Not a feature
could be heightened or improved. Then came the
cliffs again, no longer white and hoary, but a deep
mottled red. For the next hour I was well nigh
K 6 Q 7 K3 K2
Black to -ylay and mate in three moves.
[Deutsche Schach Zeitung.
CHESS IN CHICAGO.
Played at tbe Chicago Chess Association Rooms
(Danish Gambit.)
lemann. Wallace. Uedemann.
While. Black. White.
PKi P K 4 i 13 P K 5 (d)
PQ4 PxP 14PxKt
PQB3 PxP jlSBxPcli
3 B 4 Kt Q B 3(a) |16 K R K
Kt K B 3 P Q 3 17 K R (g)
Kt K B 3 (b) 118 R K 8
Wallace.
' Black.
PxB
QxP
KQ (e)
BR 6 (f)
HR'2(h)
K.Q2
.. P B 3 •
BxB
P Q R 4
* - K Q !
Kesigns.
Q K 2 119 O R 4 ch
8 Kt K Kt 5 Kt K 4 ^ )20 RxR
9 Castles P K K 3 (0 2’ R K
-10 Kt B 3 KtxKt 122 R R 7 ch
HPxKt P Q Kt 3 j23 QxB P
12BB4..- P K Kt 4 • '
(a) This leadl to a variation of the “Scotch,” a 1 ittle fa
vorable to first player. It is potato be re' jtnmended as a
defense to the Danish Gambif. -
(b) 6 , B K 3; 7 BxB, Px?»; 8 Q Kt 3, Q B; 9 Kt Kt 5,
etc.
(c) 9 — , KtxB. followed by P K Kt 3, B Kt 2 and Cas
R R, would have yielded a better defense.
(d) A strong move.
(e) 15 , QxB; 16 R K ch, B K 2; 17 Kt Q 5. etc.
(f) Laying a trap, which results in White gaining an im
portant move; 1G , B Q 2 is better.
(g) Necessary, of course.
(h) B Q 2 is the natural and best move again.
[Brownson's Chess Journal, July, 1877.
(3)
GIVE
IRON
VOID
ENDS
No. 2, Diamond Puzzle—M
CAP
COCOA
MACHINE
POINT
ANT
E
No. 3, Decapitations.—(1) Cart, art, tar, rat. at.
No. 4, Cross-Word Enigmas.—(1) Bayard, of Delaware.
(2) Richmond. •
No. 5, Pyramid.— T
THE
THERE
MANSION
POSTULATE
COMMUNITIES
THESUNNVSOUTH
No. 6, Enigma.—Thomas Bibington Macaulay.
No. 7. Enigma —
No. 8, Bible Enigma.—“Blessed are the pure in
for they snail see God.”
H. H. answers correctly Nos. I, 3. 4, 5.
Zokomoree, Stray and E. L. answer NoS. 2 and 6.
Miss Willie-McCarty and Miss Mattie A- Smith
No. 8.
L. D. C.—When prizes are offered by tt autho
enigmas, all answers must be mailed to them.
Nexv PHzzles and Enigmas.
No. 1—Love Puzzle.
Love is my first;
Love lives in my second;
Love makes my second first;
Love makes my whole;
Love makes my whole first;
Loveable is my whole.
Any man who cau bold up his right hand
and truthfully say that he has not had.|
two of my whole, should not be allowed
not fit to assist in maksot laws, even for 1
Ob send hiu^^gaiue. distant s
Or solitary .
But not wher|
E'en there
PhettI
No 2
A title; a plant; a llov
<Steinitz Gambit.)
Messrs. D. and S.,
Messrs. D. and S.
ed autumn, instead of brown-leaved June, with its
heavy green, I should have lost my senses. Red
cliffs, masked in infinitely various degrees by foli
age, or standing abrupt like walls, or shooting up
into spires and pinnacles like castles, here reced
ing from the view, there throwing themselves for
ward and shutting the waters up into a narrow
turbulent rapid; these were the features of the
scenery. To describe them is quite impossible.
At last we turned from the cliffs and saw the deep-
wooded hills above Drenkova backed by the deep,
dull crimson of a stormy sunset, and we arrived
absolutely wearied with the strength of the impres
sion made upon us by the scenery. Such a glori
ous and divine mingling of granduir and loveliness
of nature’s smiles and frowns, as decks the royal
Danube all this day’s journey, I never saw in my
life: and I never shall forget the silent astonish
ment in which I traveled for many hours. I almost
envied the birds who were free to drop anywhere
in the leafy wilderness, or on the rocky ledges, or
to suspend themselves in the air over the middle
of the Danube.—Faber D. D.
A School-Marm Becomes Infatuated With a
Boy Pupil.
Dubuke, la., August 25.—We have a curious
love case here. A school-teacher at school No. 5,
in this city, thirty years of age and decidedly un
attractive, fell plump in love with one of her
pupils, a boy fiifteen years of age. Her infatu
ation was so great that she would get the boy be
hind doors at recess to kiss and hug him, contin
ually soliciting him to walk home with her, and
wrote to him gushing and endearing notes. Final-
Steinitz. 'A’
consulting.
Steinitz.
consulting.
White.
Black.
1 White.
Black.
1 p K 4
PK4
19 B K Kt5
Q KB 2
2 Kt Q B 3
Kt QB 3
;20 KtxKt
KtxKt (b)
3PKB4
PxP
21 PxP
KQ2
4 P Q 4(a)
Q R 5 ch
22 P K Kt 4 (c) Kt K Kt 1
5KK2
Q R 4 ch
23QRK1
K Q B 3 (d)
6 Kt K B 3
P K Kt 4
24 R Q 5 ch
K Q Kt 3
7 Kt Q5
KQ
25 B K 3 ch
PQB4
8KB2
P Q 3
26 Q Q 3 ch
Q Q B 2
9 P K R4
B Kt 2
27 QxKt
BxK B P(e)
10 P Q B 3
PKR3
28 QxR
BxB
11 B Q 3
Q K Kt 3
29 Q K 8
B K 4
12 PxP
PxP
30 B K B 4 (0
B Q Kt 4 (g)
13 RxR
BxK
31 Q K B 8
QK B2
14 P K Kt 3
P KB4
32 BxB
PxB
15 Q K R 1
B K 2
33 Q B 6 ch
K R 4
16 l.txK Kt P
QxKt
34 QxK P
Q R 5 ch
17 BxP
Q Kt3
*35 Q Kt 3
Q B 3 ch
18 Q B 4 ch
Q Kt K 2
36 K Kt 1
Resign.
(a) This dariug move is the invention of Herr Steinitz,
and gives tbe name to the opening. Dangerous as it
looks, Herr Steinitz has played it with success against
some »f the strongest players in Europe.
(b) If 20 , PxP'dis ch; 21 K Kt 1, KtxKt; 22 R K B 1,
and White mast win.
(c) Although a piece behind. White has now a winning
position.
(d) A very weak move, losing the game off-hand.
(ej They have no better move than give up the exchange
on the chance of obtaining an attack.
, (f) Finely played, preventing Black's contemplated at-
(g)‘ if 30 . BxB; 31 B K 7, B Q Kt 4; 32 Q B ch wins.
[Globe Democrat.
I am composed of t
My 11, 10. 5. 1 is t '
My 9, 2, 3, 6 is a k (
My 3, 10. 8 is to 0
My 12, 5, 6. 7 is h
My 8. 10, 11 is a l
My 7, 5, 6 is a sp
My 8.10, 5, G is t
My 7, 5, 9, 1 is a }
My 4, 5, 1, G is a
My whole is an ai
ited natural curiosi
My whole, to cooi
seat to the unmarri,
solution to
All letters for this department shout)
matics ” written in the corner of the envoi
Solutions published two weeks after the'
Problems solicited iu all branches ofmatq
or applied.
isolutious.
No two of onr solvers have arrived at the saml
sion in reference to Problem 6 in No. 116. We giV
three solutions or constructions of the problem!
think the last is correct;
Problem ti seems to be incorrect. For if A and B ea
paid half for the farm, each would have paid 256 =2=$12^
which, at $3.73 and $4.25 per acre, would give
30.11 - and B 34.4 acres, which would be a fraction over!
G4 acres, tbe size of the farm. But leaving out of the
problem “each paying half,” the answer would be 32
acres for each. For 32 acres at 3,75=$120
32 acres at 4.25= 136
64 acres for
$256
N. N„ Madison, Ga.
Problem 6 is purposely Btated incorrectly, by saying
$256 instead of $255. For 255=2=127.?0;
3.75:127.50::l:No. A’s acres=3I
4.25:127.50::l:No. B's acres=30
34 acres at 3.75=127.50 .
30 acres at 4.25=127.50
CHESS INTELLIGENCE.
Brownson's Chess Journal (Dubuque, Iowa) for June
and July (one number) at band. It bas a freshness and
plumpness in appearance, and contents that we greatly
admire. We call attention to the large and beautiful dia
grams and type used in the make-up—tbe ne plus ultra
for aged veteran chess players. Emanael Barbe coutrib-
u es an able paper on ' Problems, their Solution and Com
position," containing valuable hints for the young com
poser. We believe with our English friends, that “enig
ma ” designates a definite position with one key move,
but easier of solution than a dignified problem. Barbe
places enigmas at the head of chess difficulties, and illus
trates his words with problems and enigmas. In the
games we find the *• Sherman House,” represented by a
fine game between Adair and Hosmer. (Mr. H. is the
Western champion.) It is an excellent study of the Ruy
Lopez. Also, games by Bird, Eu3or (the three-passed-
pawns man), Judd, Davidson and Reicbelm, a fine array
of American chess talent. Chris. Becker, the editor,
seems to be a favorite with the masters. We miss the
, , _ , , , , , « . , continuation of Spenser’s variations in the “Scotch,” and
ly she became so bad that she took rooms near the j h 0 p e they will appear in the next number. Th« SMia^h
boy’s home in order to see him oftener.
reciprocated the passion. Finally his mother dis
covered the affair, and the teacher had to resign.
About a month ago the boy ran away, and the
teacher soon after followed him, and it is believed
they met and arranged for a future marriage, when
the boy is old enough. At present she is at Min
neapolis and he is in Vermont.
. lw The Schach
The boy \ Zeitung thinks favorably of Mr, Spenser's new move. In
lien, we have a paper on the never-palling “Richardson
Evans,” in defense of 11 , Kt K 4, a move universally
condemned. Mr. Donglass certainly continues a plausi
ble defense: 12 Q K 3, Q R 5; 13 P Kt 3, Q B 6; 14 QxKt,
P Q 3; 15 B B 4(?). Q Kt 2 bas been suggested as the
proper move for attack. In the problem department are
twenty-eight (!) problems, from two to forty-five movers,
by sneb as Sbinkman, Martindale, Neill and others. The
Journal is a living monument of American genius and en
terprise. Single numbers, 25 cents. O. A. Brownson,
box 2,157, Dubuque, Iowa.
In the Hartford Globe game tourney, Anderson and
Wurm have each lost one to Mr. Delmar, respectively, fti
17(1) and 6 moves !!
Those Enchanting Girls Beautiful women have
ever been reputed a staple product of Kentucky,
and the rising generation promise to do no discredit
to their fair ancestors. The prevailing type is tall,
graceful, and engaging, excellent walkers, and ac- land*
complished riders complexions usually very fair We wonld be ^ |Q gee an anaIrsi3 of the followiDg
sunlit brown hair, blue and hazel eyes, good teeth mdve8 0 f h. Fries.: lPKi.PKi; 2 K Kt B 3. Q Kt B
and small hands, with a slight air ot' hauteur | 3; 3 B Kt 5, P Q R3: 4 B R 4, Kt B 3; 5 Cas, KtxK P;
thrown as a vail over the whole bearing.
Mrs. Gilbert is corresponding with “Gossip,” of Eng-
64 acres for $255
Now, 1 would like to see 256 made oat of it without
blamiug the printer. G. E. W„ Newberry. N. C.
Problem 6—Since A and B invested equal amounts in
the iarin, it is evident that when they divide, however
the value of tbe land may be increased or depreciated,
the value of the land that A gets must be just equal to the
value of the land that B gets,
Now, one dollar will buy ior A 4-15 acres.
“ B 4-17 “
In order, then, that the land be divided between them
equally in value, it must be done iu the ratio of 4-15 to
4-17, or 17 to 15. That is,
A gets 17-32 oi 64 =34 acres, worth, at 3 75, $127.50
B “ 15-32 of 64=30 “ “ “ 4,25, 127 50
64 acres, worth $255
which shows that when tbe division was made the laud
was worth $1 00 Icbs than what they gave for it.
Mat Mattics.
Problem 7, in No. 117.
(Solution by rule given in No. 114.)
Suppose B paid the butchers cents per pound; then, A
paid 6% cents per pound: 30 lbs at 6 cts=180cts.
50 .. .jfay, =325
80
505
Bat the 80 lbs ought to bring 3J0 6%nts. which is an error
of 295. Now we took our assuiuOd number, “six,” 30
times and 50 times, or 80 times.
Error 235=30 = 3,6375, the comet on.
6 -3.6375 = 9.6375, B's price, and more gives A's price.
30 lbs at
50
at 9V-7.-=V3Pyj>25
•• ir ,5=Mi$75
85 lbs for
Correct solution to the .a
E. Guy Irly, Macon,Ga ; ?T
Gastonia, N. C. Correct ,
Answer to Qui tv Sn
In the notation by position e
pressed by the series. : m ,
N=LB
where N is the numbe* , etc..lhe
base of the system of - itlon. Now,
L M. E.
. M. H., Atlanta;
n. Ga,; 8. T. Chalk
k4r R. F., Atlanta’.
No. 116.
er can be ex-
%
of the digits, D-D
God has made no one absolute. The rich depend
on the poor, ag *ell as the poor on the rich. The
world is but a mere magnificent building: all the
stones are gradually cemented together. There is
no one subsists by himself alone.
6 KtxK P, in one of onr exchanges or j ournals, or con
tributed for our column.
The consultation game between L. Paulsen, Dr. Goring
and Metger, versus A. Ander3sen, J. H. Znkertort and Dr.
C. Schmidt, resulted in favor of Anderssen A Co.
The Hartford Weekly Times gives a problem by Petroff
in seventy-five moves, and recommends it as a eoffe.-
s .veetener !!
N-(D^-D p....d)=D'E
m m-1
(B —l)and(B —1), etc., are divisil
Davies’ Bourdon, Art. 61. In i s ;l e tbe entire” 1
band member is divisible by B—l, its ,aal on
which is tbe number less the sum cf its digits, i
also be divisible by B—l. Iu the decimal scale B=10,
and B—1=9, which answers the Query. In the case of a
system of notation having 12 lor a base, B—1=11.
G. S. Eysteb. Baltimora, Md.
Note.—From the above discussion it would seem that
in duodecimals the number 11 must possess this same
peculiar property as tbe number 9 in the decimal system.
And this upon trial I find to be so. For instaace,
6 7 8 =11 gives a fractional remainder. Sum of the
digits, 6 -7 -8=2l”\ subtracted from 6’t” s’”,
, which is exactly divisible by 11. So
6 5 11
INSTINCT PRINT