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©Iw PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORXIXG. WM. BRADFORD, Editor. TEEMS OP SUBSCRIPTION: l copy, one year - - - - - “J l *• six months - “ 11 4 one year ----- io.w TERMS—Cash In Advance. Address, ADVERTISER PUBLISHING CO., Cbdartown, Ga. Cedartown Advertiser. OLD SERIES—VOL. VI. NO. 8. CEDARTOWN, GA., MAY 8, 1879. NEW SERIES-VOL. I. NO. 21. ©It* ^dttrtijsa 4 . ADVERTISING RATES. 1 Inch 2 Indies^.... 3 inches ^column H column... l * 4 0'nmn.... cents per line each insertion. OBITUARY NOTICES—Charged at h.'iir rates. A MOTHER’S REVERT. They tell me to be happy. With all these things to do— With Jimmie’s little pants to mend. And Maurice dresses, too. While dinner waits for sorring ; Soon will the darliugs come. With appetites all ehaipeued so \Vjien they arr.re at home. Then Will dislikes to see me Iu this old dress so grey ; He told me so this morning twice Befoie he wtnt away. He said the blush ha l faded From off my cheek so fair. But ten years have departed since The roses Jiugere 1 there. He knows not of my troubles At morning, noon, and night— He wouders why my eyes so sad Hava lost their old Jove light. Dear Will, it is the children, That vex their mother so : We’ll wait until they hate crown np, Then th ugs will change yon know. Ten years have passed—the children. Sleep in the silent tomb ; While everything around me seems Like mockery and gloom. Oh. I should be so happy. With twice as much to do ; If only but the children were Arouad to vox me too. What Carl Brought his Mother- “What shall I bring you from town to day, mother ?” Mrs. Bradley looked at the bright, cheery face of the speaker, a lad not more than fourteen, but unusually tall and well devel oped for his years. “I don’t know that we need anything, do we, Carl ( That is, anything we can do without, you know.” Here Mrs. Bradley paused, as if unw il ling to sadden that brave, hopeful spirit by alluding to the burden that weighed so heavily upon her heart. . “Yes, I know, mother. But I know, too, that this is your birthday ; and that the best mother and prettiest little woman in the world deserves a present of some kind, bo what shall it he ?” Mrs. Bradley blushed and smiled like a girl in her teens. She lmd not only been remarkably pretty in her youth, hut was so still; looking altogether too young to he the mother of a hoy its old as Carl. “You won’t always think so, I’m afraid! Bring yourself safely hack to me, together with all the money you can get for the fruit and vegetables, and that will be all the present 1 shall want. I hope they will sell well, because ” “They ought to sell well,” said Carl, fill ing up the wistful pause that followed, and looking with pride and satisfaction upon the contents of the neat market wagon, and which were, mainly, the result of his own skill and industry. The display was both varied and tempt ing. There were green peas and corn ; fresh, crisp lettuce and celery ; hunches of radishes, beets and turnips. All ol tnem arranged with so much care and nicety as to greatly enhance their attractiveness and value. The fruit consisted of early pears and apples, whose mellow fragrance filled the air, together with the cherries and currants, which gleamed forth redly and temptingly from out the green leaves that shaded them. “Never fear, mother, laughed Carl as he gathered up the reigns ; “I could dispose of twice the amount, if they were all like this. ” Leaning over the rustic gate, Mrs. Brad ley gazed after the retreating wagon, aglow of maternal pride ami tenderness upon the fair, sweet face, which gave it a new and wondrous beauty. “Carl is a real treasure, a great comfort to me,” she thougnt. “lie is like his father. ” Then a feeling of compunction touched her heart, as she thought how little love she had given to the grave, quiet man of nearly twice her years, who lmd been to her so kind a friend and protector, mingled with an emotion of thankfulness that he lmd never known it. that the wifely duty, the grateful affection, which were all she lmd to bestow, had been so much to him that he had blest her for them with his dying breatlL But for that fatal quarrel, and still more fatal misunderstanding, how different her life had been! But God had been very good to her, especially in giving her so good and hopeful a son. And if, by their united efforts, they could save their little home, she would he content. It was always a long and lonely day to his mother when Carl was away, lie was so strong and patient, so merry and cheer ful, that all the sunshine seemed to vanish from the house when lie left. Mrs. Bradley had l>een more like a child to her husband than a wife, by whom she had been considered as something to be carefully guarded from toil and hardship ; and Carl had fallen into very much the same way of treating her. It was amusing to see the protecting air he assumed, by virtue of his sex and superior size and strength. He liked to have his mother in the garden with him, but more for the sake of her so ciety than work. If she attempted any thing harder than sorting or arranging the fruit and vegetables, he would say : “That's too hard work for you, mother: rildoit!” Speaking so like his father as sometimes to almost startle her. In spite of the substantial lunch put up for him, Carl always returned—to use Ins own expression—“as hungry as a hear!” So the sun had hardly touched the western hills when -Mrs. Bradley commenced pre parations for supper. The snowy cloth was laid upon the round table, and the plates, knives and forks, and shining tea-service arranged on it with as much care and precision as if she had been expecting some guests of distinction. In front of Carl's plate was a platter of cold meat and vegetables, which she knew by experience would receive his first atten tion. Marshaled around this were loaves of white and brown bread, a plate of honey, and dishes of currants and raspberries. Everything was in readiness except the tea, which >lrs. Bradley left for the last moment, so as to have it nice and fresh. The sun had gone down behind the hills. Blossom, a beautiful Alderney, whose big black eyes looked almost human in their color and expression, was lowing at the bars, as though remonstrating at this un wonted forgetfulness of her claims. “I've half a mind to milk her myself,” said Mrs. Bradley, as she glanced at the shining pail on its wooden peg in the porch. “I don't see what keeps Carl!” Then the remembrance of Carl’s parting injunction induced her to go down again to the gate, to see if there were any signs of iiim. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of the wagon coming slowly up the hill, Carl sitting in frout holding, something very carefully on his knees. * With an inward wonder as to what this could be, she darted hack into the summer- kitchen, and had just removed the ashes from a bed of glowing coals, when Carl en tered, coming in through the front way. “Why, Carl, what has kept you so late?” “Oil, mother!” cried Carl excitedly, “I’ve had such a strange adverture! Come into the frout room and see what I’ve brought you!” Wondering not a little, Mrs. Bradley fol lowed Carl into the front room. And there, upon a pretty, chintz-covered lounge, lay a beautiful little girl, al»out four years old, fast asleep. “Goodness me!” she ejaculated, wi uplifted eyes and hands, “where did y< get that ?” “I didn't get ter,” responded Carl, “she came to me. I believe the Lord sent her!” added the boy, dropping his voice, and a solemn look coming into his eyes, as they rested upon the sweet picture before him. And, certainly, there was never a sweeter picture than that round, dimpled face, with the bright halo of golden curls that encir cled it. As Mrs. Bradley gazed upon the little stranger, its beauty and helplessness appeal ed strongly to the purest and sweetness in stincts of her nature. “It is a very a very lovGy child, Carl. But I don’t understand ” “Of course you don't!” laughed Carl, nibbing his hand with boyish glee, as he took another survey of his new-found treas- “How should you, when I haven’t told you ? “To go back to the beginning, the first time I saw the little thing she was sitting on Mrs. Moreland’s steps, crying. Mrs. Moreland is the lady who engaged so many of our purple plums. I had sold every thing but them, and when I went up the steps with the basket I filled the child’s chubby hands as full as they could hold. fifteen minutes in Mrs. Moreland's. I thought I should never get iv ; she had so much to say, and it took her such a time to get change and have the plums measured. I didn’t see the little girl when I came out, and supposed she belong ed to somebody in one of the houses near by, and that she had gone in. I turned Charley’s head homeward ; and you know how he pricks up his ears and trots along hen I do that. I had got quite a piece out of town when I heard a little cry. At first I thought it was along the roadside, and stopping the wagon, ! looked around. Not seeing anything, I drove on. Pretty soon ] heard another cry louder and more impa tient, and which sounded as if it was just hack of me. I turned my head, and there the little thing was, sitting among the emp ty baskets and boxes! 1 was astonished enough at first, and i I saw just how it happened. “You see, the wagon was close to the steps, and she had clambered into the haek part, after more plums, perhaps, and being tired out wandering around, had gone to sleep.” “But, Carl, you ought to have carried her right back.” “So I did, mother ; that’s what made me so lute. 1 drove straight back to Mrs. Moreland’s, and she didn’t know anything about her. 1 asked the people in some of the other houses and they didn’t either. One man told me to take her to the station. But I wouldn’t do that—such a little bit of a baby—so I just brought her home to iu.” Here the child awoke and began to cry, partly from hunger and parti}- from seeing the strange faces that bent over^jpr. Those violet .cve.-t, .with their gri«v*d, wondering look, awoke a strange thrill in Mrs. Bradley’s heart, and clasped their owner in her arms, she carried her out to where Carl's supper was awaiting for him. Carl would have fed the hungry child with the substantial food so grateful and necessary to him, though he yielded readily to his mother's suggestion that warm milk vould he better. While he was out milking, Mrs. Bradley questioned the child, hut could gain no in formation, save that her name was Dora and her papa’s name “papa.” There was name upon the clothing, whose elegance and fineness of texture indicated that she as the child of wealth, carefully and ten derly nurtured. J )ora partook eagerly of the nice bread and milk that were prepared for her, falling asleep immediately after, so that it was ith some difficulty that she was inducted into the little night-dress, which Carl could hardly believe that he had ever worn, even riien his mother told him so, and how quickly he outgrew it. He watched the process with great inter est. “You’ll keep her, won’t you, mother?” lie said, as he kissed one of the white, dim pled feet. “You’ve often said that you wished you had a little girl.” If no one claims her. We must do all we can to find out to whom she belongs. There are hearts that are very sorrowful to night, mourning the loss of their darling.” The next day Mrs. Bradley wrote out a full description of Dora for the daily Har binger, and which she gave to Carl to take to the village postoffice. As he walked along, thinking of the mort gage, which threatened to deprive them of their little home, and wishing that he was a man, that lie might get a man's wages, he saw an elegant barouche approaching drawn by a span of coal-black horses, whose sil- er-mounted harness glittered in the sun light. It contained only two persons : it's colored driver, and a fhitely-looking, middle-aged gentleman, who ordered the carriage to stop, as soon as he saw Carl. Boy, can you tell me where the Widow Bradley lives?” That is my* mother’s name. She lives in the third house, on the right hand, straight ahead.” The fnan smiled. “I am Judge Haviland. You must he Carl Bradley, who found and took such kind care of my little Dora. I am impatient to see her—jump in and tell my man where to stop.” There was something more than curiosity the keen eyes that surveyed Carl as he obeyed. not your mother’s maiden name Wynne—Helen Wynne ?” “Yes, sir.” “I used to know her when she was a girl, and a very beautiful girl she was, too. “My mother is very beautiful now.” “I don’t doubt it,” smiled the judge. And you are her son ? Dear! dear! how- time does fly, to he sure.” Mrs. Bradley was sitting upon the vine- covered porch, with Dora in her anus, who had fallen fast asleep, and did not see the two until they were close upon her. Strange and tenderemotions stirred Judge llaviland's heart as he saw that fair, sweet woman, the never-forgotten love of his youth, holding his motherless child to her bosom. “It is Judge Ilaviland, mother,” said Carl, in response to that startled inquiring look. “Helen—Mrs. Bradley, how shall I thank you for your kindness to my little daugh ter? I hope you have not found her trou blesome ?” lie added, as the suddenly- awakened child sprang eagerly to his arms. “On the contrary, I—that is to say, we, Carl and I, shall be sorry to part with her. ” “Y*ou need not unless you choose. My i of instinct kept him down by the gate until Judge Haviland made has appearance. Carl found his mother in a state of agita tion, whose nature he could not define there w-ere traces of tears upon her face, and yet he thought that he had • never seen her eyes so bright, or her cheeks so bloom mg. To his great delight Judge Ilaviland de cided to leave Dora, for the present, with her new- friends, to use his own words, ‘ Tor the sake of country air and conntry livin; But he came to see her often—almost every day in fact; so that Carl was, in a measure, prepared for the announcement that was made to him one evening, as they were all out on the porch together, and which the judge gave in a way peculiar to him. ‘ T have news for you, my l>oy, and which I hope will make you as happy as it has mae me. Your mother is going to l>e my wife, and Dora, your own little sister ! ” The hoy was silent, and his face bein^ hidden by the curly head of the child that was clinging to his neck, his mother could not see how he took this. “Are you sorry, my son ? I shall love you just the same.” Carl smiled as he met that anxious, ap pealing look. “I am glad, mother; for your sake and mine, very-glad.” A Good Reason. He was a regular dandjr in appear ance. He wore kid gloves, plug hat, gaiters with cloth uppers, a natty cut away coat hidden beneath a checkered ulster, and a pair of mouse-colored linen pantaloons. Everybody noticed his summer trous ers as he walked down the street. “Hey, mister!” shouted the boy, “slioor the pants.” Still he paid noattentiou. “There goes a Hesquimaux.” shrieked another gamin. Then he sought refuge in a sample- room, where one man took the liberty of inquiring: “Why don’t you wear cloth trousers; j’xm’U kill yourself going around that way In this kind of weather.” The man didn’t reply, but got near the stove. “Guess he’s a poet trying to come the eccentric,” suggested another. After a few moments of silence an other man bawled out: “If 1 were you I’d driy-e my legs into the sleeves ol my ulster and tie the skirts around my neck.” After several more had quizzed him on the. absurdity of wearing summer pantaloons in midwinter, he got up and shouted : “Would you all like to know yvhy I wear summer trousers now ?” “Yes, yes!” they answered, unani mously. “Well, its because they’re all I’ve got!” Ili.s reply was satisfactory. The Zulu Hunters. of the Zulus which the Some few Hudson Bay Dog Tean Profanity—and particularly French profanity, seems a necessary adjunct to dog-driving. It is unfortunate that, by some inscrutable dispensation of Providence, the only method of reach ing a dog’s reason should be through unlimited imprecation. But speaking with the experience of many days of dog-travel and an intimate acquaint ance yvith a score or more of dog trains I have never seen an attempt made to reach it in any other way-. I do not seek to exaggerate, hut simply to pre sent dog-driviug as it really is—an in human thrashing and varied cursing. The cruelty with which dogs are treat ed cannot be excused. It is true they are obstinate and provoking, and re quire severe beating, especially from new driver, till the team is brought in to subjection. But when helpless anif inals undergoing severe labor in the trains, are not merelv beaten on the i and my child easily, and that I could leave i a chink of tlie lid open to led us breathe, for the overlapping edge would save my fingers from the panther. In a second I had it all clear before me; but had the brute not stopped short at sight of the cur tain, I should never have had a chance of trying it. Luckily for me the Indian panther, savage as he is, is a terrible cow ard, and suspicious as any detective. I’ve seen one go round and round a trap for more than half an iionr, before he made up his mind to spring at the bait. So, while my friend was puzzling himself over the curtain, and wondering whether it was meant for a trap or not, I took up Minnie, (who, poor little pet seemed to know there was something wrong, and never uttered a sound) and into the chest I crept, makin, as little noise as I could. “I was hardly settled there when I heard the ‘sniff-sniff' of the panther coming right up to where I lay, and through the cliiuk that I had left upon, the hot, foul breath came steaming in upon my face, almost making me sick. It 9ecmed to bring my henrt into my mouth when I heard his great claws scraping the edge of the lid, and trying to lift it up; but, happily, the body with heavy lashes, but symetrica.' ly flogged o n the head till their ears j chink was too narrow for his paw to enter, drip blood—beaten with whip handles I But if the paw couldn't, the tongue could; till their jaws and noses are cut open ^°° n he began to lick my fingers, rasp with deep wounds—cudjelled with clubs, knelt upon and stamped upon until their howls turn into low moans of agony—punishment merges into sheet brutality. And yet such treat ment is of common occurrence. As 1 said, the beatings from being intermit tent became incessant. Many of the dogs had so exnausted themselves by violent darcings hither and thither in their endeavors to dodge the blows of the descending whip, that they had strength left for the legitimate task of hauling the sledge. The heads o others were reduced to a swollen, pul py mass by tremendous thrashings, while one or two had given out aJto- gether and had been taken from the harness and abandoned on the plain. The operation of “sending a dog to Rome” had been performed more than once—a brutal operation in which the driver sinks below the level of the beast. Sending a dog to Rome, is effected by simply beating him over the head with a club or heavy whip handle until he falls insensible to the grouud. When lie revives, with the memory of the awful blows that deprived him of con sciousness fresh upon him he pulls franticly at his load. A dog is sent to Rome tor various and often trivial prov ocations—because he shirks or wiil not pull, because he will not permit the driver to adjust some hitch in his har ness. While he is insensible the nee- sary alteration is made, ard upon re covering consciousness he receives a terrible lash of the whip to set him go- igam. Ot the skill and < many anecdotes are told, of following is a specimen: years ago a Zulu Trimter, bearing a young British officer speak somewhat lightly of native prowess, offered to give him a specimen of it by killing single handed a huge lion which infest ed the neighborhood. The challenge was accepted, and the brave fellow at once set out on his dangerous errand, the officer and several of his comrades following at a distance. Having drawn the beast from his lair, the hun ter wounded him with a well flung spear, and instantly fell flat on the ground beneath his huge shield of rhi noceros hide, which covered his whole body like the lid of a dish. The lion, having vainly expended his fury upon it, at length drew back a few paces. Instantly the shield rose again, a sec ond lance struck him, and his furious rush encountered only the impenetra ble buckler. Foiled again, the lion crouched close beside his ambushed en emy, as if meditating a siege, but the wily savage raised the luriher end ol the shield just enough to let him creep noiselessly away iij the darkness, leav- 8ailic his buckler immoved. Arrived at a safe distance, he levelled his third spear at the broad yellow flank of the royal boast with such unerring aim as to lay him dead on' the spot, and then returned composed ly to receive the con- ratillations of the wondering specta tors. The Wee Mathematician. A sharp little girl once proved that the language of mathmetics was not as exact as it should be: A female teacher had a class of begin ners—children of 4 and 5 years. In teaching them the ruddimonts of ar ithmetic, she thought to simplify things. The use of the ten numerals she taught by their ten lingers, and in adding or subtracting tlie single num bers they could reckon upon those dig its. The thing worked to a charm and the little one’s readily learned thus to solve the flrst problems of the great science. One day the class was out for recita tion, and subtraction was the theme. “Five irom five leaves hew many?” was by-and-bv asked a bright-eyed miss of 4 summers. The little thing up with her fingers and went at it. For a time she seemed exceedingly puzzled, but at length her eyes snapped, and -she lifted her head confidently. “Five!” she said with assured em phasis. Curious to know how she arrived at that solution, the teacher asked her to explain. “Why,” replied the child, holding out her two hands, and placing tnem side by side, “zere’s five on ’at hand, and five on ’at. Now I take away ’ese five from ’ose five, and—’ere zey oe— five!” About as fine a piece of ocular dem onstration in tlie way of a logical di lemma as you will often meet. To “head off” such sharp little dis coverers and accountants, it will be In order to sav, “Five from itself, how in.-. 11V ?” Two ladies, both of them a little dull in the hearing, were in jL-hurch one day, when the minister had for his text, “Except you repent ye shall lad,” turning to Carl, “will you go down likewise perish.” lhev listened to the road and look after my horses ?” i Patently enough, but whet, they got Carl could see no necessity for “looking ° ,lt the one salU 0,, ‘ e ^ Je “ e > after" the horses, whose driver appeared to > ? n an a " fu ’ 1 be a faithful and competent man; butasort ‘VepuUenouto’the parish.’ ” A Morniug Call From A Panther. “ I suppose you’re wondering why I keet ing them so that I hardly knew how to bear it. Still, the touch of Minnie’s little arm around my neck seemed to give me courage. “ But there was far worse than this to come; for the panther suddenly leaped right on top of the chest, and his weight pressed down the heavy lid upon my fing ers, until the pain was so terrible that un able to stand it any longer, I screamed with all my might. “The scream was answered by a shout, from just outside, in which I recognized my husband's voice. The panther heard it, too, and it seemed to scare him, for he made a dash for the window, either forget ting or not noticing the iron bare; but just as he reached it, there came the crack of a rifle, and I heard the heavy brute fall upon the floor, Then all the fright seemed to come back upon me at once, and I fainted outright. “1 heard afterward that Mr. R had happened to want some instrument which he had left at the house; anil, not wishing to trust it in the hands of any of the na tives, he came back for it himself—luckily, just in time, for the bullet from his rifle killed the panther. But as you see, my hand it pretty stiff yet. Rub Your Glasses. Are the eyes of any ot our readers at that stage when, from long use, they need assis tance in their more difficult work ? No blame to the eyes! What other instrument is there which so well endures the strain of half a century’s continuous work ? For it is somewhere near life’s fiftieth year that this stage is readied by the eyes. Are you not a little awkward in the use of the new instrument? You hold out a good while, till it was a question at length of arm, al most as much as shortness of sight. Do not you feel as if you ought to make a little explanatory statement before you produce it, for the first time, in company? You have been, fust to save your eyes, “using glasses” in private, your wife perhaps, or your husband, resenting it as a piece of af- seat, the one nearest the stove, and looks straight out of the window and never looks anywhere else, and never shakes her plumes again while she stays in the car.” “And the man who wants to talk,” I said, “the* man who would probably die if lie couldn't talk five minutes to every one he rides with; who glares hungrily around the car until his glance rests on the man whom he thinks too feeble to resist him, and opens the intellectual feast by asking him how the weather is down his way; the man who is always most determined to talk when you are the sleepiest, or when you want to read or to think, or just sit and look out of the car window and enjoy your own idle, pleas ant. vagrant day dreams?” “And the man,” said Rogers, “who gets on the train and stares at every man in the car ixffore he sits down, and stands and fectation, and kiadly pooh pooing the idea i 10 ] c j s the door open while he stares. Who of age making them necessary to you. But j a ] wa y 8 carries an old-fashioned oil cloth they are necessary ; and it will lie a great relief to you when you are known to use them, and their appearance evokes neither surprise nor meat. But that is neither here nor th :re. We refer to the new cx- carpet-hag with him, as wide and deep as a fire-screen, and before he sits down takes that carpet-bag by the bottom, rolls it up into a close roll, and puts it in the rack. It is always dead empty. When he leaves perience in using the glasses, anil its most; he never puts a rag ora thread or a valuable suggestiveness. You find now and then th i t type is indistinct; tlie objects are dim or blurred; the eye does not de fine : and you learn to take off the glasses, and with the clean pocket-handkerchief clear the lenses, and lo! the lines grow sharp, and the vision is distinct'. It is easy for you anil me, friend to perform this me chanical process : but there is its counter part in the mind’s eye, which is more im portant and immensely more difficult. In this thing we can see the want in our neigh bor's glasses more readily than in our own; e shall look to theirs. All men have button in it. When he comes back it is emptier than it was when he went away. It never had anything in it that he knows of since it was owned in the family, but he will never travel without it.” “And the other man,” I said, “who car ries nothing in his carpet-bag hut lunch, and eats all the way from Chicago to Cairo?'’ “And the man who rides on a pass, and stands on familiar terms with the company, and calls the brakeman Johnny?” “And the man,” I said, “who is riding on a pass for the first time, and stands up and holds his hat in his hand when he secs their weaknesses, all except you and I, dear i t j ie conductor approaching, and says ‘sir’ reader, and a few of our most intimate to he answers the official's questions . keey that ugly old chest. ’ said Mrs. Ii -r! “and 1 must cwn that It’s not very orn?^ mental; but it saved my life once, for all that. I see you think I’m making fun of you, but I'm not, indeed; and when you hear the story, I think you’ll agree with me that I have good reason to value it, ug ly as it looks. “ This was how it happened. When we first came out to India, my husband was sent to make the survey of the Nerbudda Valley', one of the wildest bits in all cen tral India: and we really were, just at first the only white people, within 40 or 50 miles. And such a time as we had of it! If my husband hadn't been as strong as he is, and a perfect miracle of patience as well, I don’t know how we could have stood what he had to do. It was dreadful werk for him, being up sometimes for a whole night together, or having to stand out in the burning sun, when the very- ground itself was almost too hot to touch. And as for the native workmen, I never saw such a set,—always doing everything wrong, and never liking anybody to put them right. When the railway was being made they used to carry the earth on their heads in baskets; and when Mr. R served out wheel-barrows to them, the ac tually' carried them on their heads in the ay’! 1 couldn’t help laughing at it. though it wa9 terrible provoking, too. And that was just the way they T all were: if there was a wrong way of using anything they’d be sure to find it out. Even our butler, or khitmutgar who much better than most of them, came one day and begged a pair of old decanter-labels that my husband was going to throw away; and when the man came in the next morn ing, he had positively turned them into ear rings, and went about quite gravely with ‘Port’ in one ears and ‘Sherry’' in the other! “However, if tlie native men worried me, the native beasts were 50 times worse. It was no joke, I can assure you, to lie awaked in the middle of the night by the roar of a tiger close under the window or by r an elephant crashing and trumpeting through the jungle with a noise like a mail-coach going full gallop into a hot house. Well, as soon as that was over, the jackals would set up a squealing and whimpering like so many frightened child ren ; and then a dreadful native bird, whose name I’ve never found out (I suppose be cause nobody could invent one bad enough- for it), would break out in a succession of the most horrible cries 4 —just like somebody being mnrdered,—until tlie noise nearly drove me wild. “And then the ants! hut you've seen them for yourself, and I needn’t tell you about them. But all this w'hile I’m neg lecting my story. “One day* (it will be long enough before I forget it) my husband was out as usual at his work, and the nurse had gone down to the other native servants at the end of the ‘compound,' as we call this big inclosurc : and I was left alone in the house with my little Minnie yonder, who was then just about a year old. By this time I had got over my first fears, and didn’t mind a bit being left by myself; indeed all the lower windows having bare across them, I thought that I was safe enough; but I little dreamed of what was coming! “ I must have been sitting over my sew ing nearly an hour, with the child playing about the floor beside me when suddenly* I heard a dull thump overhead, as if some thing had fallen upon the roof. I didn't think anything of it at the moment, for one soon gets used to all sorts of strange sounds in the Indian jungle; but presently I thought-1 could hear a heavy breathing in the next room but one, and I began to feel frightened in earnest. I rose as softly* as I could, and crept to the door-way between the rooms. This door-way was only closed by a curtain, and gently pulling aside the Chloride of^Sodium. Early one morning a tremenilous commotion was created in a lodging- house on B street, Virginia City, by' an inveterate wag, who really ought to be taken care of at once. The man was lodging in the house, and, about eight o’clock came down from his room and told the landlady that her little bey had found a box of chloride of so dium on his wash-stand and had Taken some. “If you can get a stomach- pump into him inside of an hour, lie’ll live. Now don't get excited; keepcool Put a mustard plaster on his stomach at once, and send for all the doctors in reach. You’ll be sure to find one at home.” By this time the frantic mother had the hoy stretched out on the bed, and was getting a square yard of mustard plaster ready. At tlie same time she dispatched three boys and a little girl for medical aid. “Here,” said the wag, coolly*. “I’ll leave you the name of the chemical on a piece of paper—chloride of sodium. Make no mistake; anj* doctor will know what to do the minute he sees the name. It’s all right; now don’t cry. It won’t have the slightest effect under an hour. Keep cool. Don’t frighten the child. I’ll go down and send up some doctors myself, and here the young man start ed at a brisk pace down town, and soon had several doctors routed out of their offices. Meanwhile the boy, who was nine years old, was bawling at the top of his voice, anil some of the ladies from neighboring houses came in to help him on the bed while the mustard plaster was spread over his stomach. Every woman who came in was shown the name of the poison written on the paper, and they* ejaculated: “Mercy on us!” Gracious me!” “Oil ray!” and “Merciful heavens!” in concert. Pres ently the doctors began to arrive, Dr. Uarris came tearing up the alley with a stomach-pump, followed by Webber, Anderson, Conn, Pritchard, Grant, Heath, Bergstein, and indeed all the medical faculty of the city, with medi cine cases and instruments and sto mach pumps. At the sight of so for midable array the patient (oil whom the plaster was drawing like a ten-mule team) set up a howl of despair. “What has he taken, Madame?” ask ed Dr. Harris hurriedly. “Here’s the paper,” qried the moth er. sobbing. “That’s the stuff he took.” The doctor read the inscription, pass ed it too the next man with a laugh, and it went round the group. Present ly some one remarke ‘, “Salt by thun der !” They explained to the weeping moth er that she had been made the victim as well as themselves, of a cruel hoax. There was a big laugh, but when that wag gets home to his lodgings to-night salt wont savs him. Blucher Failed to Appear. A very thrilling accident happened to the train in which I went to New Carlisle. We were crossing a long bridge at a very high rate of speed, the captain’s chronometer indeed indicat ing i. gait of 2.17^ on the first quarter, when suddenly the engineer staggered into the special drawing room car m which I always travel—big coal stove, in the middle, tool chest at the end. and long seats at the sides, so you can lie down and pounu your ear when you are weary—the engineer came in with a face of ashy paleness, and said to the conductor: “We are lost!” “What has happened ?” eagerly' ask ed the conductor. I leaned forward and caught the en gineer’s agonized whimper. •‘She’s blowed all the packin’clean out of the ash pan !” Few, few of the other passengers re alized the imminent peril through I’hich we were passing, but I sat and folds, I peeped through—and found myself listened to the labored sound of men at within a few paces of the largest panther the pumps, and silently prayed that I had ever seen in my* life! ) night or Bluclier would come. Night “ F o r one moment it was just as if I had caine a i on g after awhile, and we were been frozen stiff, and then the thought . . ® , . ... ’ came to me just aL if somebody has spoken saved ’ but Blucber d.d not put in an it; ‘The big chest!’ | appearance, and I afterwards learned “I knew that this chest wonld hold me he was detained by deadness. friends. Let us look for our facts where they* can be found. Some men, for example—not of course, in our set—have prejudices, through which they look. Somehow they have what they facetiously* call judgments on certain mat ters, and nothing will shake their jiulj meats. To be sure, the judgment came be fore the argument. They are the very re verse of the honest and candid criminal who, when asked, “Guilty or not guilty?” naively said, “How can I tell till 1 hear the evidence?” They see all that appertains to these matters through coloring or confus ing matter. They should rub their glasses. We can see that, hut they do not; for, as some one shrewdly says, what is sight or observation to a good sound prejudice? Self-love dulls the mind’s perceptions, es pecially if wounded. The wounded part is always abnormally sensitive. Men do not like their class to be censured. Y’ou and I do not like—beg pardon—other men do not like the connections of anything or anybody that strikes, or has struck, or might, coulil, or would, strike at them. The Stafford shire boor—the story is familiar, but vener able—killed the unoffending gosling on the roadside. The farmer's wife resented it, and demanded, “Why?”—“An’ whoi,” was the reply, “did goose-chick’s father nibble Oi ?” It is dangerous for any gos ling to be connected with an ancestor that has obeyed a native instinct and “nibbled” boors on the roadside. Present enjoyment has the same obscuring tendencies. Y’ou and I read “Billiards” on a window, and we have visions that are not pleasant of gambling drinking hapless homes, “un pleasantness,” wasted lives, and gloomy deaths. But those fine young fellows in side, with their coats off, under the shaded lamps, they see nothing of those horrors. They think you and me •‘fogies,” and only for politeness’ sake would call us “old women. ” and is generally more respectful to him than he is ever going to be again?’’ “And the man,” he said, “who walks through the entire length of an empty coach looking for a seat, anil then goes back and sits down in the first one, nearest the door?” “And the man,” I said, “who always gets left?” “And the man," he said, “who loses his ticket?” And thus, with pleasant comments on our fellow* passengers did we beguile the weary hours. I think the adjuster is the most observant man I ever met on a train. He sees every thing, and notes the peculiarities of the people he meets before he has seen them. We sat in a car together up in Wisconsin one day and he said: “Don't you always notice, in every car in which you ride, the fool that always sits directly before you, and always opens the window ever» time the engine whistles, and sticks his h and shoulders out to see what they are doing at that station, and never closes the window till the station is out of sight?’’ “Y’es, I had; anil he never saw anybody he knew at any station?” “Never,” said the adjuster, “and he never sees anything anybody is doing at the station, and can’t tell the name of the station while he is at it?” “And always scrapes the back of his head against the sharp edge of the window sash when he pulls it in,” I said, “and then dis mally rubs his head while he turns around and looks suspiciously at you, as though he believes you did it, and did it on purpose?” “And the man who is waiting at the station to see the train come in?” continued the adjuster, “the man with butternut over alls tucked into his lioots, tawny beard, arms crammed intohis pockets up to the elbows, mouth wide open—you never miss him; when you go down, lie is standing there at sunset; when you come hack at sunrise, he is waiting for you; never sees "anybody he knows get off the train, never sees anybody he knows get on, never expects to; would be astonished to death if he should happen to see an acquaintance come or go; isn’t paid for it, hut it’s his business. Has noth ing else in the world to do. 19 always there. If the train comes in fifteen minutes ahead of time, he has made allowance for it and has been there twenty minutes : if the train is four hours late, he waits for it. Y'ou see him at nearly every station.” “Never speaks to anybody,” I said. “Never,” said the adjuster, “and if any body speaks to him he says ‘Dunno.’ If the baggageman runs over him with a truck he says, ‘Huh!’ and shrinks up a little closer against the station, but never gets out of the way.” “And do you remember the man who sits behind you and whistles?” I asked. “And when he gets tired of whistling in your car, sings bass?” suggested the adjuster. And never whistles or sings anything that you know?” “Or that he knows?” “And the ‘masher,’ whose breath is near ly as bad as his morals, who wants to tell you all about the daughter of a wealthy mer chant who was ‘just dead gone' on him the last time he went over this road?'’ ‘And the man behind you who bites off half an apple at one bite and then puts his chin on your shoulder and tries to talk to you about the weather and crops?” And the man who comes into the car at the front door, walks clean back and out on the rear platform, looking at each one of a dozen empty seats, hunting for a good one, and then turns hack to find every last seat taken by the people who caine in afte “ him. ‘And have you never seen the girl get on at some country station,” said the adjuster, “fixed up mighty nice for the town, the belle of the village, dressed in more colors than you can crowd into a chromo, half the town down at the station to see her off; she walks across the platform feeling just a lit tle too rich to look at, comes into the car with her head up and plumes flying, ex pecting to set every woman in that car wild with envy as she walks down the aisle: she opens the door and sees a car full of Chicago girls dressed in the rich, quiet elegance of city girls in their traveling costumes, and The Mutter with Women’* .Shoes. Dr. Dio Lewis has the following in relation to women's shoes. The sole is too narrow. My friend, Mrs. C., in reading the chapter in “Our Girls” de- w^d to “Boots Mid Shoes,” came to •ay that, although she was a great suf ferer from corns and a general sore and crippled condition of the feet, her shoes were enormous, twice as large as her feet. She wished I would see if it wa9 not so. I examined the shoes and agreed with her that they were too large. As she stepped, it was doubt less true, as she said, that her foot rocked over first on this side anil then on that. Now it pressed over on the outside, rubbing down over the edge of the sole and touching the ground, and perhaps, if the ground was at all un even, on the very next step, her foot would rock on the other side ot the sole. Such friction between the little toe and the big toe joints against the upper leather must inevitably produce corns. I think the majority of shoes are too large. Mrs. C. wished me to accompany her to the shoemaker and see what I could do for her relief, for really life was be coming a torture. We went to her own shoemaker. Mrs. C. hobbled to a seat and declared: “I won’t try to walk again, there!” Her shoe was removed and Mr. Shoe maker marked around her foot, while she was standing upon it. We meas ured it and found it was exactly lour inches. That was the width of her foot when she stepped on it without a shoe. Then we measured the sole of the shoe she had been wearing, and found it two and a half inches. Here was the secret of the whole trouble. A pair of shoes were made for her ai once, with soles four inches broad. Now she can walk for hours without a pain in her feet. There are millions of poor sufferers in the country, who are limping and hobbling through the world, who might be perfectly relieved and cured by the same means. Peril* of Acricnlmre in Tyrol. The presistence with which humanity at taches itself to fertile land without regard to danger is illustrated elsewhere than here. The peasants on the slopes of Vesuvius push their cultivation and plant their homes in the very track of a possible lava stream, and all the world over, facility for obtain ing a livelihood blinds the cultivator to all risks. Grolmian says: “In the Wild-- Sell re nan, North Tyrol, not a few of the houses, are built on such steep slopes that a heavy chain has to be laid round the house and fastened to some firm object—a large tree or bowlder of rock higher up. In one village off the Puster Thai, and in two others off the Oborinn Thai, many of the villagers come to church with crampoons on their feet, the terrible steep slopes on which their huts are builts, somewhat like a swallow's nest on a wall, requiring this precautionary measure. In Moss, a village not far from the Brenner, having a popula tion of eight hundred inhabitants—more than three hundered men and women have been killed since 1758, by falls from the incredibly steep slopes upon which the pas turages off tliis village are situated. So steep are they, in fact, that only goats, and even they not every where, can be trusted to graze on them, and the hay for the larg er cattle has to be cut and gathered by the hands of men. I have myself seen, in walk among the hills, little stores of grass piled against the upper side of protecting trees, where it had been bronght in arm fuls when cut by the spike-shod mower. Tlie haymakers gather there little crops here and there on the steep grass-patches, almost at the limit of vegetation, pack it in nets or in sheets, and bring it on their shoulders down tlie steep and daugerous paths. My earlier idea of an “alp" was that of a level plateau at the top of the lower mountains. Alps which are evtn, nearly level are very rare, especially among the higher elevations. Generally they are so steep, so broken, and so inaccessible that one wonders how cattle are got to them, and how they can be trusted to graze over them. These alps are bounded by no fences, and it must be an anxious task for those who have the herds in charge to get them safely together at milking-time. Each animal wears its bell—not the hollow sounding dull bow-bell with which we are familiar, but musical in tone, and heard from a much greater distance. The alpine hut and the Sennerin, or daii y-inaid, who spends the whole summer in nearly solitary attention to her arduous duties, are not al together what one’s imagination might de- p ; ct. She is not the dairy-maid of poetrv- nor is her temyorary home filled with the more ethereal pastoral associations. Yet j these people, too, have a romantic and I imaginative side to their lives, and are hap py and wholsome and oontant. The agri culture of North Tyrol, outside of the val ley ot the Inn. is mostly confined to very small operations. A few cattle, a few sheep, a little poultry, a few small fields, and a mountain pasture constitute the stock in trade on which the industrious and frugal pair bring up their family in comfort and decency, accumulate portions for their daughters, and lay aside a provision for their own old age. Labor-saving hardly exists. Everything is accomplished by unmitigated and unremitted toil. In youth and in early life the people are stalwart, active and hearty; but old age comes very early, and at forty the vigor of manhood and wouiaub«^jd ia pnased—tb*» activity and vigor, but not tlie endurance: up to really old age even slight little women carry enor mous loads in the baskets at their backs up and down steep rough hill-sides and moun tain-paths, where an unaccustomed tourist must puff and toil to move his own unen cumbered pereon. A Glass Mo Mr. P. W. Norris, the ri;»perintend- ent ot the Y’ellowstone National Park, on a recent visit to the capital gav lecture on some of the natural curiosi ties of the region over which he pre sides and is engaged in exploring. Among these may be mentioned as tlie most novel a mountain of obsidian or volcanic glass, and a road made from this material. Near the foot of Beaver Lake the explorers discovered tl mountain of glass, which there rises basalt-like columns and countless hu masses many hundreds of feet high from a hissing hot spring forming the margin of the lake, thus creating a bar rier where It was very desirable for: wagon road to be; as the glass barri cade sloped for some 300 feet high at angle of 45 degrees to the lake, and its giistening surface was therefore im passible, there being neither Indian nor ame track over it. To form the road, huge fires were made against the glass to thoroughly heat and expand it, and then by dashing cold water ainst the heated glass, suddenly cool the latter, causing large fragments to bre»k from the mass, which were after wards broken up by sledges and picks but not without severe lacerations of the hands and faces of the party, into smaller fragments, with which a wagon road one-quarter of a mile long was constructed, about midway along the slope, thus making, it is believed, the only road of native glass upon the con tinent. On reaching the Grand canon of the Gibson river, the explorers found the eastern palisade, for about two miles in length, to consist of verti- cle pillars, hundreds of feot high, of glistening black, yellow, mottled, or banded obsidian or volcanic glass. This obsidian has been and is still used b}* the Indians for making arrow heads and other weapons and tools, and the mountain has formed a vast quarry for the making of such instrun^nts or weapons of a quality unequa/cd any where. # He truly mourns the dead who lives > see how she drops like a shot into the first as they desire. There is a large spring with a spring house over it, about one hundred and twen ty feet from Mr. GrofFs residence, near Beartown, Berks County, Pa., from which the family get their water. Drinking water from this spring is carried to the house in a bucket, and, in order to have cool water for the night to drink, it is the custom of Mr. Groff to go to the spring for water just before going to bed. The water is carried to the house in a tin bucket and stood in the kitchen, and when any of the family want water they arise from their beds and go down stairs in the dark and with a dip per take a drink from this bucket. Mrs. Groff cannot tell the night, but she says it was very hot and sultry in her bedroom in the latter part of August last, and feeling very thirsty she went down to the kitchen for a drink of water. It was quite dark, as the windows of the kitchen were closed with shutters. In drinking the water from the bucket which her husband had brought from the spring a short time before, she felt a scratching, or rather a choking sensation in her throat, and tried to vomit, but could not. She went up stairs to bed, laid down and in her half-dazed state of mind imag ined that she felt a creeping sensation in her stomach. From this night on Mrs. Groff has not been well. She has not hail a refreshing night's sleep since. Her appe tite gradually failed and she has lost G1 pounds of flesh. Her hair, which was jet black, is now turning gray, and her bright, lieautiful black eyes have a hallow glare. Instead of looking healthy she is the picture of despair. A neighbor, John Eshleman, said: “Mrs. Groff was a splendid house keeper; no one around here could beat her, and her husband was not only happy, but his affectionate wife would have worked her fingers off for the welfare of her family. Now she is broken down and sickness and pain have succeeded to their heretefore hap py fireside.” Mrs. Groff then consulted Dr. Camp!»ell. After taking the emetics prescril>eii. Mrs. Groff vomited up nine good-size* 1 crabs. They are of different sizes. One of them, an old one, no doubt, as it has a hardshell, which naturalists who have seen it, say it is about shedding. Two of the others moulting and throwing off their entire calcareous covering. One of the crabs was examined with a miscros- cope. It is furnished with eight pieces or pairs of jaws and an extremely short gullet. The Doctors declare that in 'a short time Mrs. Groff will be as well as ever again. A young man called, in company with several other gentlemen, upon a young lady. Her father was also pre sent to assist in entertaining the callers. He did not share his daughter’s scrup les against spirituous drinks, for he had wine to offer. The wine was poured out, and would soon have been drunk, but the young lady asked, ‘Did you call upon me or upon papa?* Gallantry, if nothing else, compelled them to answer. ‘We called upon you.* ‘Then you will please not drink wine; 1 have lemonade for ray callers.’ The father urged the guests to drink but they were undecided. The young lady added, ‘Remember, if you call upon me, then you drink lemonade; but if upon papa, why, in that case 1 have nothing to say.’ The wine-glasses were set down with their contents untasted. Atter leaving the house, one of t l 'e party exclaimed, ‘That is the most ef fectual temperance lecture I have ever beard.