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A Home Picture
BY C. P. CBASCU.
Draw around the fire,
Wife and childicn tender,
"Pile the hlaz.ng hickory higher—
Take away the fender.
: Ret the tihh‘. Jobs,
'Close the blinds and curtain ;
A northeaster’s coming on.
Os that i'tn very certain.
Hark—the door bell rings!
That is Uuol ; Draper ;
Sunshine in his laitgli he brings,
Ciketvi.se the evening paper.
Jit the dining room
Spoons and tea cups rutile;
And between we hear the bum ,
Os John ’a and ifcijlget’a tattle.
'Rain is on the-roof,
Winds are at the skylight.
But we are snug and weatherproof
•In our eos.y twilight.
I’iano in our rooms—
Books, all dullness scorning—
fun, that routs the sulks and glooms—
Sunshine night and morning.
At our window hangs
A yellow-winged canary,
[That echoes laughter, songs,'hanthgues—
A golden household luiry.
•Vow he’s in_a drowse,
Deaf to winds and weathers,
•All our ta'king'cati’t amuse
That ball of yellow feathers.
AH come into 'tea'!
fL-w the kettle hisses'!
Smiles on every face i see—
What a circle this is!
Now TtViUiftie, I tlii iik. ,
Alice should go bed-ward,
Yor I see. her eyelids wink
Also my little Edward.
•Good-night, pretty dears!
You're the best sleepers :
Visa all round, and may no lews
Make sad your little peepers.
Come—the piano now !
ißring yonr music, Annie,
And play —no, not that polking row**-
A piece from Puritani.
Or, while bands are in,
&ty, Memle'ssohn or Schubert,
Torti, let’s have your violin,
And try.yodr basso, lltilbcrt.
•Or if you'd rather like
15mnethmg quaint and mellow,
IPapa with his old flute will strike
In like a lusty fellow.
Yet,'don’t play too ranch,
We old folks—don’t bore us,
I should like a gloo—a touch
•Os a routing chorus ;
that will set
Good old ‘times a-ringing,
'Heart ag!<JW and eyAlds -.wilt—
That’s your fort of o’ singing 1
t&orl b‘ thanked for Home,
And its thous nd blessings’;
-For the daily joys that come,
•Gheopeiiinit -lo'iims a guesainns.
Qualities of Pump
kins.
At a recent discussion in the New
York Farmers Club, the following
came out relative to the virtues <of the,
pu'tn'pVi n:
I will give you * simple, jet very val
uable cure for inflammatory rlieumu
tisna. A woman’s arm was swelled to
an enormous size, and painfully inti im
«and. A poultice was made of stewed
pumpkin, which was renewed etery
fifteen minutes, and in a short time pm
duced a perfect cure. The fever drawn
out by the poultices made them -ex-;
tremely offensive, us they were taken
ot. 1 know a man cured of severe in
flammation of the bowels by the same
application. I think such subjects as
this proper for discussion in a Farmer’s
Club.
Dr. Snodgrass—l have no doubt
pumpkins make a good poultice.—
Whatever holds water and warmth best
is tbe most suitable.
Dr. Smith—ln my travels in Syria I
found pumpkin seeds almost universally
eaten by the people on account of their
•opposed medical qualities. Not be
cause they are diuretic, but as an ants- 1
dote against animalculue which invest
the bowels. Tliey are sold in the
streets as apples and nuts are here. It
is a medical fact that persons hiiVe been
cared of tape worm by tho use of pump,
kin seeds. The outer skin being re
moved, the meats ate bruised in a mor
tar into an oily, pasty mass. It is swal
towed by the patient after fasting some
hours, and it takes tho place of chyle in
the stomach, and the tape worm lets go
its hold on the membrane and becomes
gorged with this substance, and in some
measure probably torpid. Then a
large dose of castor oil is administered,
and tbe worms arc ejected belore they
are able to renew their hold.
MT A lawyer in a certain city in
tbe state, not remarkable for his cleans
cess of pel son, appeared at a party a
twhile ago with a rose in his button-hole.
«Where do you suppose it came from ?’
said he to a brother lawyer, who was
admking it The latter looked up and
down the entire length of the question
er, aod with great deliberation respon
ded, “Why, 1 suppose it grew there.”
• _ ______ # i —.I. - ... - "
CUTHBERT jfK APPEAL.
Happy Disappointment*
At I.YKA.
‘Go! leave the house, sir ! and never
dare to darken the threshold of my
door again 1 Bo .yon suppose that 1
would allow n»y daughter to marry one
of uncertain parentage ? no, indeed 1 go,
sir?’
‘You will aft ‘leant allow me to bid
Pauline farewell'?’ and a scornful smile
curled the lip of the young man
‘No, sir. i command you to leave
this place !’ and in a 'towering passion
the Lord of Everly Castle threw open
the door, and motioned his visitor to de
part.
Charles Belmont heard some half ut
tered words, and then the neavy tfoor
closed with a terrible slam, and W
knew he had received the old man’s
ctrvse. He took his way toward the
garden, and the same scornful smile
wreathed 'his Kps, when a young and
beautiful girl sprung to m.-et him. —
Dear readei;, it is •utterly useless for me
to pry to describe a beautiful woman ;
wti.-n I tel 1 you that Paulin * Everly
was u blonde, with long, chesnut carls,
dm k, expressive blue eyes, .you must
let your imagination picture ■lie‘rest
*V\ hat success, dear Charles V she
ask« and. ‘Ah, I see in yonr eyes that our
w< rsl fears are realized.’
Acs, de..rest Pauline, yonr father
w ill u .it Iniuk of consenting to our union.;
he has even forbidden my seeing you
again, and so I must leave you.’
‘O, Charles, do rail go; 1 i-hall die if
you leave me !’ she cried, past-ii*m/tety;
] will go to him mysel , and beg of him
in the dear name of my sainted mother,
to listen to our request ’
‘No, Putliine, it would do no good,
whatever; and believe me dearest,
lhough 4.‘have this day received your
lather's malediction, not many days
(mull elapse ere we, ua his children,
shall receive his blessing. Now, dear
one, farewell,’ and pressing one kiss
upon her blow, he wasgoue; and Pau
line sat down in the arbor to meditate
upon the words of her lover.
When Lord Evcrly’s passion had
somewhat subsided. Ire rang the bell,
and told the servant, who answered the
summons, to tell Mi-s Pauline thrft lie
wished toffee her in the library.
Tremblingly the lovely girl entered
her b.ther’s presence, and as he saw the
look of despair which had settled -down
over her young face, he almost repented
;»Ikj hasty words which he had spoken
to her lover ; hut •it Wasnmly for an in.
stunt; ‘he‘quickly 'banished all feelings
of regret, amt i-aid scornfully ;
‘You probably know-of M-r. Belmont’*
love lor yottrstdl ?’
‘Yes, sir,* she refilled haughtily, 'he
hits spoken to me on tit© "subject, and
you liftve Tel used to make us happy,
even curt-ed the only man I ever loved ’
Lord Everly s brow grew dark, and
lie sal l, sternly:;
‘Pauline, yon are young, tfnd kn >w
nothing of Mich mutters. Where would
be yonr wealth, your-station ? I would
certainly disown ydu if you married
him.' . r
‘1 care nothing for wealth or station
was the col-1 reply ; an I as for being
disowned, if you refused ms a home,
Chifrles would gladly provide me with
one ’
’However that may be, you shall nev'
er see him again. 1 have just received
a letter from the Ear! of—saying
that he will he here in a few weeks to
el aim yonr bund in nu-rriage, and I
shall expect you to meet hirn a* your
affianced husband; for r-nch he is.’
‘Such he is not, and i ever will be,’
then throwing herself at his feet she
Pegged him to recall his hasty words.—
Almost scornfully he bade her rise and
leave the room.
One day about two months after the
conversation above relaUd, Pauline was
sitting on the “balcony, leaning against
one of th® heavy p liars. Her eyes
were closed, her th >ughts wore of her
al>«Mit lover. Her reverie was broken
oft by the sound of whw's, aid looking
up hastily, she saw approach ng, an
elegant carriage, drawn by spirited
bluc'k ‘horses. Surmising that this
must he the Earl, she hastily sought
her own apartment, whore she resolved
to lemain until forced to leave it.
She heard her father in the hdl be>
low wve'corne the Earl t<» Everly C:«*tle;
and as she bad the full, rich ton sol
•his vo’ce in leply, she thought how
much it resembled that of Chailes.
Her iath«r soon sent for her, button
ti«ry to bar expect nioiis, he excused
her. Tin-next ttv-miog, however, she
was old ged to make her appearance.—
Her father rose and gravely presented
her to the Earl, the drew berncllf np
haughtily, merely touching tils ex-tend
ed hand with the tips of her fing-.rs. A
heavy frown settled on her faiher’s
brow, but she cared not for that ; she
determined to make a poor impression
on the Earl so that he would have no
desire to ■continue the engagement, or
prolong bis *tay.
She saw but little of them during the
day, her father being engageo in show
ing the Earl over the house and grounds.
The eaily part of the evening was spent
in the di awing room where Pauline
was obliged to listen to numberless lit
tle nothings from the Earl, wh eh most
women like, but which Pauline despised
Disgusted at last, she rose, and
ging to be excused left the apartment. 1
Gaining her own room she exclaimed :
‘I declare ! I had much rather take
poison and end all my trials at once,
than bo wedded to such a man.’
Bitting down by the open window,
she gazed up into the clear blue sky’
where ‘the midnight stairs were burn’
ing brightly,’ and wondered if in all the
many distant worlds, there could be
found a creature an miserable as her.
self, lu *n adjoining room lay the ele
gant robe in which she was to be deck
ed on the morrow, and an involuntary
thought came to destroy it; but she
nso utely put it away, saying, ‘if n iy
father insists upon my marrying this
tarl of > I will do it if it does cost
me my happiness, yes, and my life too.
The sun r >se bright and clear the
next morning, but the peasant children
had been busy long before gathering
flowers, and strewd them in the path
which the young bride would tread ;
for ‘Miss Paulioe’ was a favorite with
the poor us well as the rich.
The sun ascended his throne, and all
tbe bells of the chapel and camle were
sending forth a joyous peal, when Pau
line, followed by her maids and a fa
vored few invited guests, proceeded to
ward the chapel, tbe jewels of tbe cost-
ly dresses sparkling in the light. The
Earl was already there, and as Pauline
passed down the broad aisle, and heard
the joyful notes of the deep, rich tuned
organ pealing forth the wedding march,
she thought it all a fearful mockery, and
a deathly pallor overspread her counte
nance, us she took her place at the al
tar.
A few moments more, and Pauline
had promised to love, honor and obey a
man whom she thoroughly despised-.
Mechanically she received the con
gratulations of their friends, and was
idling the chapel leaning upon her
husband's arm, when he bent his head
and tvlrispered something in her ear.—
Quickly a bright fl ish overspread btff
cheek and brow, a beautiful light shone
in her eye, and, regardless of the lock
ers on, she threw her arms about, his
neck, exclaiming, ‘Charles, my 'hus
band !’
Wh»*n Lord Everly knew that
Charles Be.moot and the Earl of
were one, he was actually shamed into
apology Tor his past rudeness. The
mystery was -soon explained. When
Pauline and Charles were children, their
father had made an engagement that
when they (the children) should reach a
suitable age, t hey should ba united in
m»riiiige; but being aware of the dis
gust to which a knowledge of such an
agreement often gives rise in the minds'
of the interested parties, they kept the
matter a ’profound ’Secret.
When Charles was yet a child bis
father died, leaving him his title, and an
immense fortune in the hand* of an es
teemed f ietid. At the age of twenty
one, Charles received iris fortune and
became Ids own master. Becoming in
some way possessed of the facts rela
tive to his marriage, he determined to
go to Lord Everly, and without making
himself known, make an -engagement
with him to become Miss Patiiiue’s in
structor in painting for in this way he
could form a more intimate acquaint*
auce with his future wife, than if lie
went in his own name.
It is useless, dear reader, to say that
his plan succeeded well, and I have on
ly to add, that in a short time the roses
returned to Pauline’s cheeks, the light
to her eyes, and the elasticity to her
steps ; for she was the happy wife of a
•noblemaut.
Spoiling Children* *
Spoiling, in its earlier stages, is rath
er pleasant. It consists in letting oue’s
daling have its own preciour little way
on all occasions, and the way is #uch a
pretty, roguish, winsome way, nobody
cam see any harm in it. Grown-up wil
fulncss is quite a different thing from
baby wilfulness. It gets teetii and claws
so to speak, and isn't nice to contem
plate. Spoiling uppers to mean a
great many different things. One of its
naiMi ’forms is total disregard for the
feelings and convenience of others. If
yftu meet a peculiarly upsetting woman
on a journey or a iparty of .pleasure who
« Ught to lie square when she is triungu
•far when she is square, you may set it
down that she was a spoifed child.
There ur« parents who would stint
their allowance of tire or food in order
to indulge their children’s whims. The
idea of parental sacrifice b'-comes mor
bid, especially 'if the child happens to be
admired and praised. There are moth
ers who pi ch their own wardrobes to
bedeck their little girls in expensive
ginnm-nts, fostemig a TaVte fir extrava
g -nt dress which they caunot honestly
indu'ge.
Although people in the lower ranks
or the middle class do contrive, ocea
sionally, to spoil their children by indyl
geuce, the business is not carried on
wholesale as it is among the rich. Ne
cessity is a severe and yet a kind step
dame. Her motto is service, and ser
vice is the salt of life. In a large fam
ily, not very well to do, life older chil
drert educates the younger ones. They
fuel almost as responsible as the parents,
luid parents exert more influence in their
own little way. Such a child-life seems
bald and grey compared with the fairy
fCiikb thuuigh which richer children
d.mce and sing; bui it in reality keeps
young tastes fresh mJ pore, and whets
the appetite, n-tead ol iloying it wth
ei j y i ent. This is only a part of ihe
benefit derive I from childhood taxed
with some responsibility, and judicious
ly denied as well as indulged.
Sell control is the one thing spoiled
children never learn. Their desires are
always rampant. We see the teat urea
of the boy who- kicked his nurse and
browbeat his mother n some passionate,
diss.pated, it regular young man, and we
shake 'our hefnjs aMd say, "We knew
how he would turn out.” The spoiled
girl devt-lopes into an exacting, unscru
pulous woman. Life must centre round
tier, not because she has ever done any
thing, but merely because she was a
spoiled child.
Her husband is a martyr. I have
generally noticed that such girls marry
meek little men, who seem to consider
it their principal business in life to cany
ali-out a load of shawls and attend to
the poodle.
Stage Tortures, — A curious contro,
versy is waging in the London Times,
between one who signs herseif “A bal
let Girl,' and Mr. E T. Smith, the
manager of Astley’s Theatre. The for
mer complains that the ballet girls are
compelled, in “grand transformation
scenes, ’’ to be strapped to iron bars and
raised to various heights from the stage,
sometimes as high as fifteen feet, to their
grent terror, that they are forced to
smile at the time, and that the average
wages for such exposure of their liv. 8
is ordy eighteen shillings a week. Mr.
Smith replies that every possible precau
tion is taken against accident; that so
far from the position being a disagreea
ble one, the ballet girls are e iger to 1 e
selected to undergo the “skewering”
process; and that no one is ever sent
up on the iron bar against her inclina
tion. 'ihe ballet girl, in her n j under
begs leave to doubt Mr. Smith's state’
ment that the girls like to be hoisted in
the air, and criticises other parts of his
reply. Bhe advances in advance the
question why girls choose ballet dancing
fora profession, by saying that they do
not choose it, but are brought up to it
and can find nothing else to do.
A Fourth of July orator spoke
of the United B«ates.as bounded on the
east by tbe rising sun, on the north by
the aurora borealis, on the south by the
procession of the exquiuoxes, unci o.i
the west by the day of judgment.
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 1870.
Tile Executioner of Paris—
Remarkable Character.
It seems that the famous Samsons,
, who have been from father to son foT
many generations the executioners in
the Department of the Seine, including
Paris have died out, and that a German,
or a man of German origin, by the name
of Heidenreioh, now occupies the posi
tion, which is regarded by all Europe
ans in general the most horrible busi
ness in the world. The recollection ot
the butcheries which, in the name of the
law, or what during the revolution was
caiied the law, were performed by the
executioner, surrounded the name of
the executioner of Paris with a pecu
liar horror. He was regarded as the
man of blood by pre'erence. The pre
sent executioner of Paris, Heidenreioh,
is very often interviewed by the jour>
nalists of the French capital. They
-describe him, uniformly, as a vnry well
informed man, whose utterances inspire
much sympathy. A short time ago
four or live French journalists called on
Heidetrr»rch, who lives in the vidinity
of Enghffiu, about four English miles
from the centre of the city They were
received with great cordiality. They
took ctifibe with him, and smoked his
cigars. He made them acquainted
with his son— a lad of fourteen years—
who, as he said, had not the least idea
of the terrible functions of his fttther.
He showed them the ate, which hs
keeps in a special wardrobe, and they
clo*e their account with remark ‘‘they
left Heidenreioh with sentiments of the
highest respect.” Heidenreioh is a
man of forty years of age-, tall, well
built, and of a very determined ch&rac
seter. At certain intervals a messen
ger brings to his house a small bag of
yellow leatlrtr. Ho gives his receipt,
and at once prepares the axe for anew
execution, by grinding the edge as
sharp as a razor. It weighs about
eight pounds, and is of triangular stupe.
He leaves hrs hour* in company with
two assistants, and superintends during
the next night the erection of the scaf
fold t»n the Place de la Paquette. Be
fore daylight he ascends the scaffold,'
fastens the axe to the block with his
own hands, tries whether it moves easi
ly through the pulleys, leaves the terri
ble instrument fn charge of one of his
assistants, and proceeds to the prison.
The director of the prison conducts him
in person to the cell of the culprit.—
Heidenreioh asks the name who is des
ignated, and when he ascertains that he
is in the presence of his victim he lays
his haund upon his shoulder and says ;
“Thou belongest to me.” The execu
tioner then gives a receipt to the direc
tor of the pi 'son, and from this moment
the cniprit is called the patient, w!.om
nobody is permitted to touch except the
excutioner. He ties the hands of the
patient behind his back, puts a short
chain on his feet, which permits the cul
prit to make very short steps, and con
nects the chain to the hands by a rope
ot the exact length required. We pass
the rest—it has been so often described.
After the execution is accompl*hed our
Puri.-ian intei v.ew< rs say that Heiden
reich returns home with iiis h»-arl l»ro
ken and all the symptoms of dispair on
his countenance. He cleans the axe as
soon as tie can-, hides it in his wardrobe,,
and then attempts to find comfort in
sweet talk with his boy, who tries also
to dispel the gloomy thoughts of his fa.
ther, of the origin of which the poor
child is supposed to be iguoradt.
A Tempkrav* e Story. —The bystand
ers in the vicinity of a well known drink
ing su oon a few days ago, noticed a
man considerably intoxicated, who was
accompanied by a handsome English
coach dog. The man pursued his dq
vions oontse, closely followed by his
four footed companion, until at length
he approached the door of the saloon
referred to, and was about to enter,
when, to the surprise of all who wit
nessed the aff-iir, the dog jumped up
and catching the skirts of the man’s
coat, sought to prevent him from going
in.
The inebriated biped spoke in angry
tones to the beus% but without avail,
until at length a m >r« than ordinarily
severe command induced him to relin
quish his hold, and the man hastened
inside, followed by his faithful comoan
ion and would be protect r.
Actuated simply by cu.iosity, we, in
company wi h several -others, went in,
and as \Ve gained a position near the
bar, we saw in close proximity therto
the beast and his master, the latter stri
ving t-» reach the bar, and the former
standing on his hind ’legs, with his fore
paws placed against the man’s breast,
Vainly endeavoring, even at the dev
enth hour, to prevent him from indul
ging in the intoxicating cnp.
To the credit of the bar-tender be it
stated, that he refused to furnish the
man with any more liquor, and tears
were drawn from ey-es that had long
been unut-ed to the melting mood, as at
each refusal the undoubtedly heirt
sttickeu canine would bestow a look of
intense gratitude up m the dispenser of
cocktail-, slings’ and ‘tods ’ and then
turning, would, with a most imploring
look," mutely beseech his liqnoHoving
master to abstain from ‘press ng his pep
perment.’
At this juncture we left the scene,
and while quiet y wending our way of
ficewards, could not help refl-cting
what a powerful argument in favor of
prohibition could be drawn from the
above incident.— Boston limes.
Curious stories are told of the
simple and austere life ied by many of
the prelates o! the Council at Rome,
who disdain to indulge themselves with
any luxuries to which they are not ac
customed at home. “A day spent in
visiting them makes us acquainted with
many a dark and steep staircase, many
a mean and narrow chamber. Some
who have a palace at home are here
lodged in the cell of some monk, and
bound to observe the hours of the mo
nastery. It is cold, arid all have not
tire; it rains, and ail have not a car
riage. One is no doubt edified, but
sometimes one is also pained aud dis
tressed to see aged bishops making
their way to the Vatican chair in a di
lapidated carriage, which hardly shel
ters them, or too often on foot under a
shower of rain.’
B@U A shoddy young lady su piisod
her mother on returning from a dam e,
by saying iba she enjoyed the “hugging,
set to music, most btillyly.’* She had
I reference to waltzing.
Catching a 'Wild Horse.
Not long since a most excitiDg chase
happened near the military camp on
Big Ponoagie river, after a wTld horse.
« had oftpn heard the story of the wild
hoise ot Wind River Valley, but never
expected to see that famous animal
alive, much less lay my hands upon him.
His story runs thus :
Some time ago the Cheyenne Indians
stole a noted horse in Kansas and sold
"him to tlie "Sioux, who in turn sold him
to the Utcs, from whom he was bought
or stolen by the Snakes. He became
so vicious that the Snakes sold him to
a white man, a Mr. Gallagher. While
he was being taken to tire settlement,
be got away and took to the mountains.
All effect to recapture him was in vain ;
he outran the swiftest Indian horses,
and remained at large for several
months. At last he was surprised by
a body of warriors, surrounded and las
soed before he could break through
them. Securely tied with ropes, he Waff
brought into the Indian camp, and beat*
qA aud starved into semi-obedience, bnt
atrr.mbitibus Indian attempted one day
to ride him, whom he thew, and suc
ceeded in getting into the hills. He
now had a large rope around his neck,
the end of which dragged the ground,
and a bridle and Indian saddle was on
him. He was o»ten seen, but defied all'
efforts to recapture him. One day an
Indian, who was out fishing, saw him
grazing under a bluff, and getting a la
riat, crawled to the edge of the bluff
and with unerring precision thew The'
noose over his head. Once more the
noble brute found himself a captive, and
this time he was securely tied to a tree
with a log chain; but one of the links
was broken, and the chain parting, he
made for the bills and was not seen
again.
A few days ago, just after breakfast,
a sentinel of the cuinp on Ponoagie re
ported a horse on the bluffs overlooking
the camp, and a closer inspection show
ed the animal to be the veritable wild
horse. He seemed greatly excited, and
kept galloping op and down the bluffs,
with head aud tail erect. The com
manding officer ordered that no one
should pursue him as long as he kept
running and was in sight the camp.
The brave horse presently deioended
from the bluffs, and ran across the val
ley with the speed of the wind to where
a company 7 of cavalry horses were gra
zing, but becoming alarmed, he wheeled
near them and made into the hills. As
il charmed, he soon returned, and tak-'
ing a wide cicuit, passed around the
camps,' and horses several times. The
rapidity and length of time which he
rad was incredib e. We could.see the
long chain thradi ng about his fore legs,
apparently urging min to greateh exer*
tions. At lust he stopped near the herd,
seemingly exhausted The commanding
officer had the best cavahy horses sad
dled up. ordered them «nr, and the
troops galloped swiftly to their positions
in different points of the valley. The
horses, as had been expected, when ipur
s-tsed, ran nearly in a circle, and as fast
as one trooper came near another he
reined up and a fresh horse and rider
took up he chase. At first 11re wild
horse easily ditt meed his pursuers, and
it was with gnat diffiouliy he could be
kept out of the hills, but the chain
thra-hing abo it his eg impended his
progress and gave him great pain In
hulif an In ur the combined strength of
the cavalry horses began to tell, and
several troops got near enough to throw
their lariats, but not being skilled, miss
ed their mark. Ihe circle begau to
grow smaller, and the wild horse show,
ed -evident "Signs of distress, but the cav
alry horses were also giving out, and
the chase was doubtful. At this jane
tore a number of infantry soldiers and
teamsters, mounted on mules, came to
t; e assistance of t-he cavalry. The
mules ran well, and their power of en
durance was remarkable. At times the
wild horse would strikes trot, as fast
as any of his pursuers could run; but
an attempt to head him of! would break
him up into a gallop. He shook off the
cavalry, tmt tne mules kept up with
him, and at last a rope was got oVer
his head by a teamster, and a cavalry
in n coming up at the same moment
seized the ciiaiu. Goth moll hung o-j
well, but the cavalryman was dragged
from the saddle aud lost his bold. The
teifinster still tilting to the rope, and as
tire horse was heading for the camp ur
ged his mule to his utm >st to keep up
with him. As the prospect for Capture
became certain, the excitement in the
fort was intense. The pursuers and
pursued had now worked up quite close
to the breastworks, and tbe men of Cap
tain • bister’s company, Seventh Uni
ted States infantry, hurried oVer the
works and surrounded tiie doomed horse
on all sides. He made a noble strug
gle for his liberty, but ropes held by
many bands were quickly passed over
nis luck, Around Ins body and legs and
ia a few moments he l'oui and himself on
Ins back and heels m the air. The
chain was coveted with blood, and the
skin, had literally been thrashed from
tha poor brute’s legs. On the top of
his neck the weight of the chain had
-caused it to cut into the flesh a depth
of nearly two inches, and ail ugly fes
tering woun l was formed.
The hor-*e was of a dark brovn color,
medium size, broad chested, and large
nostrils. His eye was bright and pierc
ing, and he had thj strongest limbs I
ever saw The muscles were gathered
in large knots, and the veins on his neck
and body stood out like whip cords.
Afo-r he was securely hopp'ed we
look oft the chain and rope about his
neck, and led him into tbe fort. His
wounds began to he..l nicely, and he
would sutler his keeper to mount his
back, bu would snort, bi e and kick it
a stranger came about. Tiie poor biute
would put down his head to have his
sore neck washed wiiii hot wat-r and
soap, ami held perfectly still, though the
pain must have been severe. Bo well
did lie behave that he woe let out with
a lariat rope and hopples on to graze.
As Captain Plasters men had really
captured lnm, the horse was turned
over by order of the Commanding officer
of the camp to the company, aud the
men by common consent gave him to
their Captain.
The other day it was determined to
remove the house <d" F<>rt Bridger, and
he was secniely tied behind a govern
ment wagon ; but the soldiers only suc
ceeded in getting him twelve mi!o>
wien tie broke 1 i- rope and escaped in
ti ihe bills.
So ends the story of the Wild Horse
of Wind Hi yen He is once more at
large, and no effort will be made t > re
capture him, for it is the opinion of all,
that if it had flrft been for the chain they
never could have taken him, and now
that he is freed of that incumbrance hip
capture is deemed impossible.— Chicago
Tribune.
Earnum on Advertising
“l thoroughly understood the art of
advertising, not merely by means of
printer’s ink, which I have always used
freely and to which I confess myself 60
much indebted for my success, but by
turning every possible circumstance to
my account. It was my monomania to
make the Maseum the towu wonder and
town talk. I often seized upon an op
portunity by instinct, even before I had
a very definite conception as to how it
shottld be used, and it seemed, some
how, to mature itself and serve my pur
pose. As an illustration, one morning,
a stout, hearty-looking man came into
my ticket office and begged some mon
ey. I asked him why he did not work
and earn his living ? He replied tost he
could get nothing to do and that he
would be glad of any job at a dollar a
day. [ handed him a quarter of a dot-,
lor, told him to go and get his breakfast
and return, and I would employ him at
light labor at a dollar and a half a day.
When he returned, I gav* him five com*
raon bricks.
“Now” said I, “go and lay a brick on
the sidewalk at the corner of Broadway
and Ann Street; another close b.y the
museum ; a thud diagonally across the
way at the corner of Broadway and
Vesey street, by the Aslor House; put
down the fourth on the sidewalk in front
of Bt. Paul’s Church opposite; then, with
the fifth brick in hand, take up a rapid
inarch from one point to the other, ex
changing your brick at every point and
say n--thing to any one.
“What is the olyectof this ?'’ inquired
the nae,
. . “No matter,” I replied ; “all you need
to know is that it biings you fifteen
cents wages per hour. It is a bit of my
fun, and to assist me properly you must
*eem to be as deal as a post; wear a
serious countenance; answer no ques
tions; pay no attention to any one; but
attend faithfully to the work and at the
end of every hour by St.‘ PauTV -docs
show this ticket at the Museum door;
enter, walking solemnly through every
hall in the building; pass out, aud re<
suine your work.”
With the remark that it was “all one
to him, so long as he could earn his liv
ing,” the man placed his biicks and be
gan his round. Half an hour after
wards, at least five hundred peop'e were
watching his mysterious movements.--
He had assumed a military step and
bearing, and looking as sober a* a
ho made Uo response Whatever to the
constant inquiries as to the object of his
singular conduct. At the end of the
first hour, the sidewalks in the vicinity
were packed with people all anxious to
solve the mystery. The man as direct
ed then went into tho Museum, devot
ing fifteen minutes to a solemn survey
of the hulls, and afterwards returning,
to his round. This was repeated every
hour till sundown and whenever the
man went into the museum a dozen or
more persons would buy tickets and f'ol
low him, hoping to gratify their curiosi
ty in regard to tire purpo-e of his move
ments. This Was confiimed for several
days—the cuiious people who followed
the ii an into the Mu-eum considerably
more than paying his wages—till, final
ly, the policeman, to whom 1 had im
parted my object, ‘Complained that the
obstruction of the cidewalk by crowds
hud become so serious that I must call
in my “brick man.” This trivial inci
denteXcitOd considerable talk and amuse
ment; it advertised nye : ; and it materi
ally advanced my purp a>e of making a
lively corner near the Museum.”
A Mixed Case.— Not many weolt*
Bince, the advent of a lady in this city
in search of a truant husband was no
ted, and the measures taken by the po
lice to discover the runaways described
It has come to an unexpected denoue
ment. Yesterday iii-u ning one of < >'ur
recorder’s courts was the scene of the
explanat on. Two females had been
arrested for fighting .and disturbing the
peace, “What is your name ?” inquired
the Recorder of one of them. “Mrs. H.,
sir.” “And what is yours?” ‘Mrs. H.,
sir.” Why you are of the same name,
how is that ?” Doth of them immediate
ly interposed an explanation. They
were each the lawful wife of Mr. H
Each alone, according to the account of
the speaker, was entitled to 'wear it.—
The R -corder scratched his head in per
plexity.
“What did you fight about? ” he at
last inquired. “Mr, Hwas the re
ply. “Where is he?” he demanded.
‘Here,* responded a sntall ferpieaking
voice from the far corner of the room ”
“Here your Honor!” aud a poor woe
begone looking article made his appear
ance, unable to support one wife instead
of two. “Do you claim both of these
women ns y.,ur wife ?” the rec >rder ask
ed. “Well, ary one of ’em'll do!’
“Why do you have two wives ?” “Well
you st-e when one gets «>bst operous I
kin go to t’other, and she imivt generally
pities me.” And Mr. 11, looked an il
lied hit upon a most happy solution of
the often vexed que tiou of domestic fe
licity.— N, Y. Pimyune.
No Danger from Giving too Muoh. —
The comment of a colored preacher on
the text, ‘lt is m >re blessed to give
than to receive,’ is inimitable for its
point as well as its rare beauty and elo
qnence : ‘l’ve known many a church
to die ’cause it didn't give enough ; but
I never nowed a ChufCn to die ’cause it
give too much. Dey don’t die dat way.
Bredren, has any «*t you knowed a
dm eh that died ’cause it give too
much ? If you do, jest let me know,
and I’ll make a pilgrimage to dat
church, and I’ll climb by do solt light
of de moon to its moss-covered roof,
and I’ll stand dar and lilt my bands to
heaven, and say, ‘Blessed are do dead
that in de Lord.’ ’
“I CA\t Make Y«c Mifca.”—Such
were the wolds that fell from the lips of
a mother, after having made sever !
fruitless attempts to secure obedience
from her little child. And yet that
mother wonders what can lie tbe reason
her ih i- will not mind. Does she not
know that tho very utterance of .b so
war* s, before her chilu, was a virtual
sum inter of parental authority ? 1 hat
e u!d in iy now go through life even
m king himself v.le, and no mother’s au
thority be exercised to restrain bim.
Concerning False faatr.
Poes any lady ever look at the Ar
rangement of any other ladies’ hair ?
Does aby lady ever look into a hair
dresser’s shop ? If so, how does the hid
eous chignon, in its present proportions,
hold its ground ? If any woman’s head
grew intc such monstrous shapes as may
now be seen in all directions wherever
women are congregated together, it
would be a cause of mourning to her
family, of consultation among eminent,
surgeons, and she would probably spend
the greater part of her time in judicious
seclusion. Here shall be a woman with
small, delicate features, a small head,*
and of small statute. Instead of ma
king the most of the natural beauties
with which she is gifted, she frizzles,!
and cuts, and gums her front hair into
all sorts of uncouth forms, and sur
mounts her back hair with an enor-
mous ball of somebody else’a tresses !
The lady appears to have two heads,
one (the artificial) considerably larger
than the other. The hat has to be
perched on tbe nose, and a most pre
posterous result is presented. Howev
er, there is one virtue about the chig
non—it is honest. There’s no decep
tion, gentlemen. Even if the ladies
were desirous of trying to lead people
to suppose that the porter’s knots on
their heads are composed of their own
hair, it would be useless. For the
hairdressers, anxious to advertise their
wares, have rendered that deception an
impossibility. Their shops are full of
Ohignolns. PiirtH chignons; frizzed chig-
nons; chignons woven into a pattern
similar to the large basket-work used
chiefly for waste-paper baskets; chig
nons with supplementary curls; chig
nons with -straight, flimsy tresses pend
ent from them ; chignons of every va
riety, have long been familiar to the
male observer. As we look into our
lushionuhle hairdresser’s, more over,
we become aware of long and thick
•plaits of hair, of arrangements of curls
and of similar devices, braids, and
bands to a most astonishing exteut.—
And these hirsute ‘deceptions are evi-!
dently not intended solely for elderly
ladies, as were the fronts (hideous de
vices !) of the by-gone generation, but
tat ladies of ull ages. It would seem
as if a real female bead of hair were
not to be found in these times. The
‘glory of a woman is in her hair’ we are
t >!d ; but nothing is said about the glo
ry being attainable by the use of some
body else’s hair. Men have their faults,
heaven knows, but in matters of this
sort they show u Ktttle more sense than
woimm. It is fashionable to wear a
beard, and m >st men’s faces arc im
proved by it; yet false beards, chin
chignons so-lo speak, have not yet be
come popular. We are afraid, howev.
er, to cry out too loudly against the
chignon. Female taste is a grewsoms
thing to meddle with, and it is very pos
sible that aMI Iden change might be
made, and wo might find ladies with
their hair, whether scanty or ♦tbundant,
plartered tight down to their heads.—
So it was with crinoline. In modera-:
tioii and in its earlier days it was a
graceful and convenient fashion. The
convenient and graceful period very
quickly vanished. The era of iron
h‘iope, of horetshair substances many
inches thick, of ennrmous size and ut
ter iininanageablcness, set in The
crinoline became an instrument of tor
ture to wretched men; and must have
been most inconvenient and uncomfort
able to its wearers. When, at lust, the
fashion changed, was the sensible pal-t
of the dress retained, and the absurd re
jected ? Not a bit of it. Horrible
straight, •clinging Skirts, with long,
trailing trains succeeded, and, on the
whole, it may be said that the tyrattnv
of fashion is worse than it was. —All
the Year Round.
The Boy to Succeed.
A few years ago A large drug firm in
New York advertised for a boy. Next
day the stor® was thronged with i p di
cants, among them a queer looking lit
tie fellow, accrtlttpanied by a woman who
nrOvred to bo his aunt, in lieu of faith
less parents, by whom ho had been
abandoned. Looking at this littie wail,
the merchant in the st rfc promptly
said : “Can’t take him ; pla es all full;
be-ides he is too small ” “I know he is
small, said the woman, “but he is willing
and faithful.” There was a twinkle in
the boy’s eyes that rhade the merchant
think again. A partner in the firm vol
unteered to remark that ho “did not see
what they wanted if such a boy—be
wasn’t bigggf than a pint of cider.”—
But aft r consu t ti< h the boy *as set
to work. A few days later a < all was
made < n the boys in the store for mm
one to stay all night The prompt res
ponse of the little fellow contrasted Well
with the reluctance of others.
In the middle of the night the mer*
chant looked in to see if all was right
in the store, and presently discoveied
his youthful protege busy scissorizing
labels. “What are you doing?” said
he, “I did not tell you to work nights.”
“I know you did not tell me so, but I
thought, I might as well be doing some
tiling.” In the mornjng the cashier got
orders to “double that boy’s wages, lot
he is vttilliqg.” Only a few Weeks
elasped before a show of wild beasts
passed through the streets, and, very
naturally, ail bands rushed to witness
the spectacle. A thief saw his oppor
tunity, and * ntered at the rear door to
seize something, but tt a tW.nkl'ng
found himself firmly ciutcluJd by the 0 -
urinutive cleik aforesaid, and after a
struggle, was captured. Not only was
a robbery prevented, but valuable ar
ticles taken from other stones were re
covered. When asked by the merchant
why he staid behind to Watch when otlo
era quit their work, the reply was:
“Yotl told me never to leave the store
when others were absent, and I thought
I’d stay." Orders were immediately
given once more* ‘‘Double that boy’s
wages; he is willing and faithful.” To*
day that boy is getting a.salary of $2,-
500, and next January will become a
member of tbe firm. Young men, imi
tate bis example.— llall's Journal of
Health.
BSL. A clergyman was cnee endeav
oring to get a subscription in aid of
some char.table object out of a close fis
ted parishioner, who attempted to ex
cuse hiirtself on the ground that he al
ready owed a great deal of money.—
“But,” said the minister, “you owe God
a larger debt tbau you do any one else ’ l
“That is so, parson ; blit then he ain’t
pushing me, like tbe balance of my credi
tors.”
YOL. IV - NO. 17.
Cirious Mode of Catching Fish.
Ovctaken by night, when traveling
through the Sura mountains in France,
many years ago, we stopped for supper
and a night’s lodging at a -small wayside
inn, of rather dilapidated appeararice,
under some apprehension as to how we
should fare there; but the cordial greet
ing of the landlord, whose fat, rubicund
face, and moist, twinkling blue eye,
gave promise of good entertainment*,
and soon dispelled our fears. One of
his first -questions was whetner we liked
trout tor supper, fresh from the brook.
Os course we did ; but to our aston
ishment—it nnw being pitch dark wo
learned that the fish had yet to be
caught. Being an ardent angleT, and
•curhiHs to team how the thing was to
be done, upon his ivitation tve accompa
nied him to the scene of action, a braw
ling mountain brook within a few yatds
of his door. Before starting, he took
from a closet, where it bad been stowed
away, an ordinary glass globo lantern,
with two long tin tubes fixed to it oil
• i.her side, through whijh the flarne
was supplied with air Lighting it, ho
then took from his pocket a common
priming-knife, with a hawk’s bill, called
a ‘serpe;’ he was now prepared for the
fray. A walk of two or three minutes
brought ns to the side of a deep, dark
pool, which, with the glare of the lamp
dancing over it like a ‘vvill-o’ the-wisp,’ i
looked like the bottomless pit.
With the queerlooking lantern in his
left hand, and the right armed with th*
foimidable knife, the landlord seated
himself on a flat projecting rock, whence
the descent was seen to the bottom of
the pod. Ho then slowly thrust the
still burning lamp into the deep water, I
where it looked like a great glowing
kohinoor Holding it thus for about a
mi note, he raised it evenly and slowly
to thesnrfao©, and around it, to our de--
light and astonishment, were fifteen of
twenty fish of different sizes, pressing
their noses against the glass,as if eager
to get at the light. Then, selecting the
best fish, our host adroitly tapped four
of them oh the head with the bill of his
knife. They turned on their sides dead,
without a flutter. Thus, in less timo
than it takes to Write the account, ho
h«s four prime half pound trout, which,
with the addition of an omelette au lard.
such a* the French only can make, a
mound of perfumed, golden mountain
butter, and a bottle of Baune, covered
with the dust of a quarter century, w©
had a.supper worthy to record in Bril
lot-SaVarin’s imim rul Physiology da Gout,
This pleasant little adventure at tho
waysid.; inn was recalled to our memory
by a statement in our Exchanges. It
seems that a light is quite as attractive
to the fish of the great deep as to their
oouwns of the mountain brock. Tho
professional fishermen on the coasts ot
Fiance, having recently discovered this
fact, are now making draughts of fish
a traded to their nets by powerful sub
merged light.— Turf, Field and Farm.
A Pleasant Item for Lovers of
OuaMpaign. —An American traveler iu
the streets of Paris Bceing the word,
“Wine baths given heYe,” exclaimed :
“Well, these French aie a luxurious
people.” Then, with true Yankee cu
riosity, and the feeling that he could af
ford whatever any one else did, walked
in and demanded a “win© bath.”
Feeling wonderfully refreshed after
it, and having to pap but five francs, ha
asked in some astonishment how a win©
bath could fro aff-rded bo cheaply. His
s ible attendant, who had been a slave
m Virginia, and enjoyed a sly bit of hu
mor replied :
“Oh* «i we just pass it along in«
to anudder room, wbei© we gib baths
at four f aucs.”
“Then you throw it away I suppose.”
“No, massa, den we send it lower
down, and-charge three francs a bath.
Dari's p'enty who ain’t so be.ry particu
lar, who will bathe in It after this at two
francs ah< ad. Den, massa, w e let the
common people bab it at a franco a
pi ce ’
*i hen, of course, you throw it away,’ 11
exclaimed the trav. ler, who thougbi'thia
was going eVen beyond Yankee profit.
“No, indeed, massa,” was the indig
nant re; 1/, acCompained by a piofound
bow ; —“no, indeed, massa, we are not
so ’starvagant os dat comes to; we bot
tles it Up den and send it to ’Merica for
Champaigne.’
A celebrated divine, who wag
remarkable, in the first period of bis
ministry, for a boi.-tirous mode of
preaching, suddenly changed bis whole
manner in the pulpit, and adopted a
mild and dispas.-ionatc mode of delivery.
One of his brethren, observing it, in
quired of him what had induced him to
make the change. He answered,
“When 1 was yottng, I thought it was
the thunder that killed the people, but
when I grew wiser, I discovered that it
was the lightn'ng; so 1 determined in
future lo thunder less aud lighten more.”
I©- Aunt Judy, a pious old colored
woman, is said to have expressed herself
as (i.Hoftg With reference to the vocifer
ous habits of certain persons “at camp
meeting.’’ “’Taint de rale grace, honey;
taint de shure glory. You hollers too
loud. When you gits de Dove in yonr
heart, and de Lamb on your bosom,
you’ll feel as if you was in dat stable at
Beth’lem, and de blessed Virgin had
lent you de sleeping baby to hold.”
MV* A poor fellow having with diffi
culty procured an audience of the late
Duke of Newcastle, told his Grace he
only came to solicit him for something
toward his support, and as they were ot
the same family, both being descended
from Adam, he hoped he should not be
refused. “Surely not,” said the Duke ;
“surely not. Here is a penny tor you ;
and if all tiie rest of your relations will
give you as much, you’ll be a richer
man thaD I am.”
E3T A bluff old farmer says : “If a
man professes to serve the Lord, I like
to see him do it when he measures
onions as well na when he hollers glory
halleluyar.’’ This remark will apply td
more transactions than measnriug on
ions.
Early Vegetables! —The Gainesville
(Fla.) Independent of the 26th ultirnd
says : “The truck gardeners In onr com
munity (there are very few this season)
will in a tew days Commence the ship
ment of the early varieties of vegetables
to the Northern mat keUi”