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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