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IPublis hed every Thursday by D. b. FREEMAN, OLD SERES- -VOL. X NO 2. CEDARTOwN. GA,.MARCH 22. J883 IS EW SERIES-VOL. V-NO. 15. AN UNFINISHED POEM BY BRY ANT. I on hia arm. as she said: •“God bless you, Mr. March.’ > “And then I went off to look for Jim, Tbe reader of Mr. Bryont a poems will read!-1 ly remember tne many verses addressed to his j ,, .. . ,, wife, such as “ Oh Fairest of the Kural 1 found him the other side of the a two-gallon can of kerosene the union of their sp'rits in the world to come; “ “ I8 the “jrJck-Bod,” describinsr an Illness; “ The j ‘ ‘You see,’ he said, as I asked ratn- J lfe Thut Is.” rejoici ng In recovery: “The or sharnlv where hn'H bppn •Tf»’n crit Twrnty-si’venth of March,” the birthday of ! ar P 1 J T™ ere . a De ® n ’ f. c n S 11 Mrs. iiryant: “October, i8aa.” descriptive of i tais a good deal cheaper here than at tier death and burial; and “May Evening," aj Fairtown, an’ my wife thinks it’s asi^ht gentle reference to her loss. But in addition! better too to these, as we learn from Mr. Godwin’s forth- com ng biography of the poet, a fragment was found among his papers, which recalls her memory In a very tender way. seven years after her death. The linos we«-e unfinished and uncorrected; but we cannot refrain from g ring them as they were written—dated “R03- iyn, 1876;” •«. Tbe morn hath not the glory that it wore, Nor doth the day so beautifully die, Since 1 can call thee to my side no more, To gaze upon the sky. Tor thy dear hand, with each return of spring, 1 sought in sunny nooks the dowers she Iscek & cm’still, and sorrowfully bring v The choicest to thy grave. Here, where 1 sit alone, is sometimes hear From the great world, a wJaisper of haply, to ..ora, : . By those whose praise is fame. And then, as if I thought thou still wert nigh, 1 turn mo, half forgetting thou art dead, To rend the gentle gladness in thine eye That once 1 might have read. I turn, but see thee not: before my eyes The image of a bill-side mound appears Where all of thee that passed not to the skies Was laid with bitter tears. And I, whose thoughts go back to happier days That tied with thee, would gladly now resign AI1 that the world can give of fame and praise For one sweet look of thine. Thus, ever, when I read of generous deeds, Euch words as thou did3t one© delight hear. My heart is wrung with anguish as it bleeds To think thou art not near. And now that I can talk no more with thee /Of ancient friends and days too fair to last, A b tterness blend? wiih the memory Of ull that happy post. Oh, when I % —Century Magazine. THE ENGINEER’S STORT. Business had brought me to the little town of I) , among the New TTnmp- ehire hills, and here, much aga'ust my w.ll. I was dcta : ned for several days, wh le waiting for instructions from iny employers. The nearest periodical store was twelve miles away, and, with out books or papers, time hung heavy on my hands. The only break in my monotonous life was the arrival of the trains twice : day, and in the d.ad calm of my exist once this little ripple of exe'tement be came as much to me as the opera uhder more fa orable circumstances. It was While lounging upon the platform that 3 became acquainted with George Sea- forlh, engineer on the B. C. & M. Rail road. He was a man about thirty-five years of age. Not what would be called an educated man. but sensible and clear-headed. His home was in Con cord, where he had a wife and two chit dren. He ran from Concord to D , and for two hours, while waiting for the ‘down train,’’ he was in If . The acquaintance, at first begun to while away an iaie hour, on my^pa t. at leasts grow to a strong liking, and to day there is no one among my acquaint ances for whom I feel a greater respect and esteem than for George Seaforth. . He had been on the cars since he was sixteen, first as train-toy, then as brake- man, fireman, and for the last ten years as engineer. “You must have had some strange adventures in that time.” I said one day, as we sat upon the platform of the little station, waiting for the train. ‘“ trange adventures'” he repeated, taking his pipe from his mouth, and looking meditatively across the g een felds. “Strange adventures! You may well say that, sir. We train men are always having adventures.” “Suppo : e you tell me some of them, 1 suggested. “Weil,” looking at his watch, “as there’s plenty of time, I don’t mind tell- ing you of one queer one I had six years ago, come tall, though I don’t often speak of it; for you see when a man’s been face to face with death, he can’t talk of it very well.” I settled myself on the rough bench that did duty as a chair, as comfortably as I could, iook a fresh cigar, and he began: _ “It happened in tnis way. 1 was run ning the old Lion from Lee to Fairtown. If you know anything about New En gland, you^know that September’s a gro t month for fairs, and this particu lar September was no exception to the general rule. We had lots of extra work to do, but, as wo had extra pay, there was no grumbl-ng. It was toward the last of the month that the fair at M came off. Two or three extras were put on, timed so as to run between the regular trains. Jim Turner fire 1 for me then. Jim was as good a fellow as over lived, with but one fault—he would go off on ‘a time’ once in a while. He didn’t do it very oflcn. and as he’d do more work than any other man on the road, the company kept him. But Jim had been pretty sober lately. I believe he hadn't drunk any thing for as much as s'x months; so I k:na of got out of the habit of watching h:m, ana he wentomd came pretty much as he chose. . “Well, we got along all right this time, till a’most night we stopped at H for wood and water. While wo were waiting, March, the depot-master, came along, and says he: •Seaforth, I want you to do me a favor.” “‘What is it?”’ says I, for March and I were pretty good friends. “‘Well,’ says he, ‘there’s a vonnr woman here who wants to go to Fair- town, and she hasn’t a cent of money. She came here to get work, and she’s lost her pocket-book, and hasn’t any way to get back home. I don’t feel at liberty to pass her over the road, (they’d been making a row about free -passes), and she a”n’t the kind that you’d feel like offering money to. So I thought may be you’d let her ride on the engine.’ “Well, I didn’t like to refuse March, for. as I said before, he and I were good friends, and he had done me many a good turn; but 1 must say the idea of having a woman in the cab til the way to Fairtown wa’n’t very £ leasant, and I said so to March, but e was bound to have her go, and said ao much that I finally told him to bring hir along. She came ont upon the J ilatform, a little, pale-faced thiug, who ooked at me with great, frigh ened eyes, as though she thought I was a hear, and would eat her up as soon as we left tne station. March introdu ed her as Miss Lord, and seemed to ex pect me to say something to make hear 1 feel at home, but I was all out of soitv and I only nodded in a surly sort of way. I saw the tears come into her eyes, and you better believe I felt Hwl of mean, but I didn't sa- _ and March helped her on Well, come along,’ I said, ‘for we’re two minutes behind time now. “ When we got back to the engine March had gone, and Mis3 Lord sat there alone. Jim stared, but I said: “ • This young woman’s going to ride on the engine to Fairtown. She is a friend of ivr. March.’ So he put down his kerosene, and took his place on the cab. “Iheard the conductor's • All aboard, and then we were off. “I was busj with levers and valves, for a man who drives a train holds the lives of hundreds in his hand, and one careless motion may send them ail into eternity. So you see X hadn’t much time to think of anything but niy ma chine, but I noticed that Jim was pretty talkative. At first I thought it was because we nau a woman aboard, but by and by I began to suspect it was something worse than that. His voice grew thick and his movements uncertain, and at last 1 could no longer hide from myself the fact that he had been drinking. Still I anticipated no trouble. We were already more than iia'f way to Fairtown, and I thought he would keep up till we got there. “At A the station master handed the conductor a telegram. He read it, and then handed it to ice. It ordered us to go on to N to meet the special. 1 had expected to stop at the next sta tion, and N was ten miles beyond, but orders are orders and mist 1 e obeye I. So 1 told Jim to pile on the wood, and I put on all the steam 1 dared, and we went spinning over the road at a rate that must have astonished the passengers. “We had gone a little more than half way, and I was beginning to think wo mi/ht make the distance without much trouble, when Jim sat right down on the floor of the cab, and began to whimper. “ ‘ Get up, you fool, and go to work,’ I cried. I can’t,’ he whimpered. ‘I'm tired, an’ mus' go er sleep.’ “‘Get up, you rascal!’ 1 shouted. •Don’t you know we’ve got to get to N in ten minutes, or meet the special tra : n?’ “‘I can’t help it; let ther ol’ train come. I tell ye I’m tired. Now, look here, Seaforth',’ nodding his head with drunken gravity. ‘You’re workin’ too hard. Why, man, yon won’t live out half your days, if you don’t take some rest. 1 tellye what’t is you'd better take things easy. I'm goin’ to, anyway.’ “And he laid down on the Boor of the cab, and shut his eyes, mutter ng: •Take it easy. easy. Jim’U take it easy.’ “1 suppose I must have acted like a wild man, for I knew that before I could let the conductor know the fix that we were in, and get help, it would be too late to save the train, and I’m afraid I used some pretty strong words, as a man is apt to when he gets in a tic-lit place. Not that the words help him out of it. I suppose they only let off some of the extra steam, and make him think quicker. So I stormed away there, all the time trying to do my work ,.nd Jim’s, and knowing ever moment that we were losing ground. The steam was going down, and the engine slowing up, spite of all I could do. “1 tell you,” and he passed his hand o er his forehead, “ it makes the sweat start on me now, when I think of that run. It seems to me that I lived a life time in those few minutes. It’s an awful thing to have so many lives de pending on you. In the cars behin i me were hundreds of human be'ngs, and the other train had hundreds more, and only a step between them and eternity. All this time, the girl M-irch had put on the engine had been sitting perfectly still, watching everything that went on, and now, when everything seemed lost, she threw off her shawl, and stepped in to Jim’s place, saying qu’etly: “ Til take that man’s place, Mr. Seaforth.’ “ ‘You? r and I looked at the slight, almost girlish, figure in astonishment. “ ‘Yes,’ she said. T am stronger than I look, and I’ve been watching toe man. so I know 1 can do his work. 1 ' “It was a forlorn hope, bnt our only one, and. after one brief moment of hesitation, I said: ‘ ‘Very well, you can but try, and if you fail’— “I did not finish the sentence, for, at the thought of failure, the terrible pict ure of mangled, bleeding bodies, crushed out of all semblance of human ity, rose be'ore me, and 1 turned away with a groan. A slight shudder passed over tbe giri, and she seemed to grow >aler, but, without a word, she took ler place, throwing on the wood as I directed, and doing so well, that, spite of my anxiety, I could not but notice the dexterity with which she handled heavy sticks. The strength of a half-a- dozen men seemed concentrated in her slender arms, bnt, spite of her efforts, we hardly seemed to gain ground. “ I looked at my watch, and fairly groaned alond as 1 saw that it wanted ten minutes of six, and at six we were expected to pass the extra at N There was no time to pot back, and no chance to stop till we reached N There was nothing for us to do but to go straight on, though I felt that we were going to destruction. As the hands of the watch crept round, telling off the minutes. I watched them with a sort of fasaiaatien. tertian «* tbonefa I wen turning to stone. Well, if you’ll believe me, that girl, instead of making a row, as most women would have done, never said a single word, though she seemed, to know just how things were going, but, after one look at my face—and X suppose I most have looked pretty bad —almost by inspiration it seemed to me. she did one of those things a man would never have thought of. Right beh nd her was the til-can Jim had got at 1 . With a steady hand she lifted the heavy can, and poured halt its con tents on the wood, then she threw the wood upon the fire, and it blazed np with a quick, fierce heat, that sent th: engine flying over the rails at a rate that fairly made one dizzy. Still she piled on th? tiled wood, and still we w. nt on faster, and faster. Tbe train rocked from side to side, and. the engine seemed hardly to touch the rails. I ’ at mv watch, and then an iouslv direction of N ‘ It wanted “-‘It’s of no use,’ I said. ‘We can’t get there, and we’ve all the steam wn can safely carry now.’ “ ‘Are yon sure it Won’t bear any more? 1 she asked, anxiously. “I shook my head. “ ‘I’m afraid not,’ I said. “ ‘Bnt it is possible that it may!” she asked again. “ ‘Yes,-possible; but not probable,’ I answered. . “She asked the questions, ins. calm, even voice, and 1 think I answered in mnch the same tone, for,, now that the danger I had feared Was really upon us, 1 seemed to have lost all fear, and I watched the line of smoke nearing us so fast with a sort of vague wonder as to what the engineer of the other train would do when he saw ns coming, too late to save his train. I was roused from this sort of stupor into which 1 seemed in danger of falling, by seeing- tbe g’ri again reach for the oil-can. I shook my head. ‘“It won’t do,’ I said. ‘It may be death.’ “ ‘But,’ she said, *it is death if I don't.’ “I nodded, and, without a word, she poured the remainder of the oil upon the wood, and threw it into the fire. We were close to the station now. and I could see people running across the platform, and hear the women scream as they saw our danger; for right in front of us was the extra, so near that it seemed as if noth ing but a miracle could save us. I looked at Miss Lord. With that last ef fort her strength seemed to leave her, and she sank upon the seat, covering her face with her bands, waiting for the death that seemed so near. “There was a moment of awfu’ sus pense, and then we were safe upon the side track, just as the e tra train went thundering by, so near that scarcely an inch separated the engine from the hindmost car. The brakes were put on, and the long line of cars came to a stand still just beyond the station, and then slowly ran back to where the crowd of alarmed and curious men stood watching us. At the shrill sound of the escaping steam. Miss Lord raised her head, and looked anxiously around, then, seeming to rca'ize that we were safe, she tried to say something, but the words died awav in a murmnr, and the next moment she fell on the floor of tbe cab like a dead woman. Bnt be fore I cou'd call any one to help her, for I was pretty well shaken myself, one of the directors, who was on the train, came along in a fearful passion. He wanted to now what I meant by inn, ning the risk that 1 had done. “Haven’t yon any brains? and don’t yon care any more for human life than a donkey?’ ho blnslere l. “1 handed him the telegram I had received at A . and which, fortu nately for myself, i baa pnt into my colored forgiveness. Raising Poultry for the Market. [LittlsltiKk Gazette.| The forgiving spirit of the colored peo ple is a distinctive character of that race. The moot violent animosities may be cooled by the wave of the fan of conces sion, and the hottest fire of hatred can .be extinguished by a drop of the milk of human kindness. Sandy Horn, a colored man known in the neighborhood as Buck Botn, sometime ago met the wife of one- eyed Nicholas. Mrs. One-eyed Nicholas was a “likely ’oman,” hut her attraction at least for Buck Horn consisted in a lack rather than in the abundance of the Mrs. Caesar material. Buck Horn hung around Nicholas’ house while the old man was away. Finally he and Mrs. One- eyed Nicholas ran away and came to Lit tle Bock and opened a kind of boiled- cabbage eating-house. For tho first few days after the elopement old Nicholas surrendered himself to grief. ‘Tse toet de ’oman ob my bosom,” he said. “De debil hah tuck de rib what God had gin me.” At last the old man threw aside his grief and meditated revenge. He took an oath he would kill Buck Horn. •Tse nebber gone back on a oath,” he said to a neighbor, “an’ when I meets Buck Horn he mils’ die de death ob de ungodly. Happy will be de time when I sets de soles of my feet in dat ’onory man’s blood.” Next day old Nicholas came to the city. He brought a pistol and a briar hook with him. Ascertain ing the locality of his mortal enemy, he went tothe house, and, without revealing his identity, was admitted by a boarder. Seated on a bench, he awaited the appear ance of Back Horn. After a while the man came. Nicholes sprang np, shat the door and locked it. ’“Face ter face wid de debil,” ex- claimed Nicholas, cocking his pistol, and raising the briar hook. “I liab swor ter take yer life, an’ fore de Lord Tse agwine ter do hit” “Look heah, Nick,” said Buck Horn, “guv a man some sorter show.” ‘Nick, I doan want no truck wid yer. ” “In de name of de chnrchl stermin ates dis sinner.” The old man leveled his pistoL “Nick, doan yon remember dat Ken tucky whisky, we drunk dat day at de ferry?” “Yes,’’ said the old man, lowering his pistol; “^rer ^ot any moah?” “'Whar’s yer bottle?” “Heah hit is," and Back Horn took a bottle from his pocket, handing it over and remarked, “hep yerself. ” The old man drank and said “genny- wine ’poesom hoUow.” “Yer’s right, old man. Hab a seat.’ The two men sat down. “Let me pnt yer pistol ober heah. Put de hook ober m de coruder. Dar now, we’s fixed. pocket and then I pointed' to the floor £ «“«* oflhe cab, where Jim lay in a drunken 22*1“ *7“ da co ? ntr 7' ---I \is„ T • 1 What! yer am t acorn’ so soon, is yer? sleep, and Miss Lord in a dead faint and I told the story as weU as 1 could. I tell you there was pretty lively times there for a few minutes.' The passen gers found out that something was the matter, and they c: me pouring out of the cars, and crowded round the en gine, and 1 had to tell my story over and over to them. Well, some of the men carried Jim off to the station, and dumped him down on the floor, and M ss Lord was taken into one of the drawing-room cars, and fussed over as though she was one of tbe greatest ladi a in tbe land; and. before she came to herself enough to sit np, th re was a purse made up for her, of more dollars th n she’ ever had in her life, and that wa’n’t all, for Mr. Runals— the director that was aboard the train—found that she knew something of telegraphy, and pnt her in the office at C for awhile. and in a tew months gave her a steady job. So you see it wa’n’t a bad ride for her, a‘ter all.” “ But what became of her?” I asked. “Is she still in the office?” “Ob, bless you, no, sir. She did what most all the women do, sooner or later —get married.” “Well,” sa d I. “such a women de served a good husband; I hope she got one.” “Well, Idon’tknow; pr ttymiddling, I guess,’ ’ and then he nodded, with a laugh: “She seems to be satisfied, so I suppose there’s no occasion for any one else to find fault.” ■ u-t then there was a whistle, and the down train came into view, and, putting fils pipe in bis pocket, the en gineer made ready for his homeward trip, saying, with a sly smile, as he sprang on the engine and said good-by: “If ever you come to Concord I shall be glad to see you, and you can ask my wi e what she thinks of the husband Miss Ford got.”—Ballou’s Monthly. A Twe-Headed Girl. There is at Soorabaya, Java, at present on view a Japanese infant with two heads and necks, bnt with one body, two arms and two legs. The little thing is now about fifty days old, according to the mother, and is so far in fair health. The two heads and necks are placed side by side on the trank, and are perfectly and neatly formed, and of about normal size. Between them on the trank is a small protuberance, caused evidently by the junction of two bodice. The body is ab normally broad at tin shoulders, and tapers down at the waist and lains to the size of an ordinary infant of the same age; the legs appeared very small and weak, however. The arms on each side of the small chest looked puny. The right hand head is a little lighter in color than the other. How the internal ar rangements are disposed of we, of course, do not know, hut both heads have to he fed at meal times. When the writer was present one head cried, the mother said from hunger, but the other did not, though it at the same time began moving about restlessly as if for food. The two heads do not breathe alike, nor do the pulses an either arm heat together, from time to time the infant (or infants, for each head has a name) suffers from de pression, and the face turns bluish, showing that the blood circulation is not properly regulated. The parents are ordinary Japanese of the lower class, and the mother is good-looking; so is the offspring. They are doing a good trade by the exhibition.—London Telegraph. yer ain’t agoin’ so soon, is yer? Wish yer stay to dinner.” “Gimme some more ob de ’possom hollow. Dat staff makes me feel like whistlin’. Come oat an’ see me. Doan forget de jug.” The Cabbage. Just speak to a fine lady about cab- sages and she will think that you have nentioned one of the lowest things on rarth. Madam, yon are wrong; it is one >f the most useful articles of food. Fhoee ancient nations did not know iood science, bnt they knew the value of good and nourishing tilings, and gave ■hem the place of honor which they de terred. Cabbages were thought of highly by ancient nations, and the Egyp tians gave the cabbage the honor of let- ling it preoede all their other dishes; they called it a divine dish. The Greeks ana Romans had a great affection for Jabbage, and conceived the idea, which I have myself, that the use of cabbage keeps people from drunkenness. I am persuaded that the constant eating of sertain vegetables kills the desire for klooholic beverages. Greek doctors as- sribed all kinds of virtues to the cabbage. It was thought to cure even paralysis. Books were compoeed to celebrate the rirtuee of the cabbage, and ladies par took of it soon after childbirth. The Romans thought even more of the cab bage than the Greeks. They ascribe to it the fact that they could for six hundred years do without doctors, and Cato ictually maintained that cabbage cured ill diseases. The ancients knew several kinds of cabbage—the long-leaved green sabbage, the hard white, so mnch used in Germany for “sauerkraut” or fer mented cabbage, the curly and the red. This last seems to have held the place of honor, and was first introduced by the Romans into Gaul or Franoe, and then brought to Great Britain. Later the sen-leaved cabbage was introduced. a Greeks were fond of aromatic sca nnings—of oil, raisin wine, and almonds. They boiled or stewed the cabbage and masoned it with cummin, coriander seed, with oil, wine, and gravy, making rich dishes of a vegetable, which we now boil in water, and reckon among the plainest food. Something like a remembrance of cooking cabbage among the old Greeks has come down to the modom Greeks, for they stuff cabbage leaves with dainty mince meat, and then stew them with gravy.—Mrs. Lewis, in Food and Health Leaves. Raising poultry for the market can be made quite a profitable business if prop erly managed. By faulty management the profit can be made very small or be made to disappear entirely. In raising ehickens for market it makes a great difference whether they attain a good size and are sent in early in the season when poultry is scarce and high, or are marketed late when there is plenty of poultry offered at low prices. The prices of chickens in August and Sep tember are usually fifty to one bundl ed per cent, higher than they are in Octo ber and November. By having the chickens hatched early in the spring they may easily be m ide ready for the market early and then secure't he high prices which prevail during the latter part of summer and first part of autumn. In order to succeed in raising poultry extensively, plenty of room must be pro vided for it. There must be salable shelter, and plenty of yard room. The yard should be large enough so that a large part of the ground can be kept in grass, to afford the poultry a supply of green food. They need a daily supply of green vegetables. Cabbage and let tuce are best, but young and tender grass is good. Shade is needful in the yard to afford the birds a chance to re treat from the hot rays of the snn in summer. Fruit trees may advanta geously be placed in the yard. They will afford the needed shade, and the presence of the fowls will help to pro tect the trees from insects and insure their thriftiness and fruitfulness. Poultry yards are generally too small. If the yard is large enough the fowls will keep healthy. A New York hotel-keeper a few years ago had a poultry yard which contained fifteen acres, in which he kept large numbers of tuikeys, ducks and fowls. They had the range of the lot and daring tbe summer obtained a large part of their food from the yard, and were free from diseases usually incident to poultry. The owner was wont to de clare that he could raise a thousand ponnds of poultry as easily and as cheaply as he could a thousand pounds of beef, mutton or pork. Under good management it is probably true that a thousand pounds of poultry can be pro duced as cheaply as a thousand pounds of beef, mutton or pork. The fact that poultry usually sells at two or three times the price of beef, mutton or pork, sufficiently indicates how much greater the profit must be in poultry raising than in raising beef, mutton or pork. In raising poultry for the market the importance of having the chickens hatched early should be insisted upon. Next in importance is the feeding of them to insure their rapid and continu ous growth. The food for the young chicks should be such as is adapted to promote growth, and should be abun dant in quantity. Skimmed miik,either sweet or sour, is au excellent article to feed young chicks, along wiih Indian meal or oat meal cr bread made of these articles. The chickens should be given abont ail the food they will eat so as to keep them growing thriftily, all the time. Many allow their young chickens to be only about half fed for the first three or four months and then by* extra feeding endeavor to bring them into condition for the market. By feeding well from the first the chickens are hastened to maturity, kept in good condition and are ready for the market at an early age. If poultry can be brought to maturity early in the season and sent to market when there is a scarcity of poultry offered, a high price will bo obtained for it. The quicker poultry can be grown ready for market, the cheaper can it be produced. A cer tain amount of food daily is required to supply the waste of the system, main tain animal heat and so forth, and what is consumed in excess of that amount increases growth and flesh. If a flock of chickens can be brought to maturity ready for the market in fodr months instead of six, the cost of keeping them alive or simply maintaining tli&'r con dition for two months will be saved. The more the chickens can be made to eat and digest the faster they will grow and the less will be the cost of maturing them. Neglect to feed generously is the cause of many failures in raising poultry for the market. The greatest profit is obtained only by feeding all the birds can eat, while the least profit is obtained by keeping them about half starved. Generous feeding and profit go together and that fact should be suf ficient inducement to seenre good treat ment of poultry.—Practical Farmer. A San Francisco Snow-Storm. / j What Brave Snrfmen Accomplished. Tourists have told you of our beauti- I The surfmen at Smith’s Island, on !ul climate, of a land where even in mid- I the Northampton shore, resened the winter, roses bloom in the open air and I crew of the Albert Daily, of Augusta, ;ce and snow are unknown; yet strange I Me., on the night of January 7. On the as it may seem, on the last day of the | following day Mr. Cobb’s wreckera went year, suddenly, without warning, we were treated to a gennine snow-storm. Hurrahs from thousands of boyish voices filled the air as the feathery snowflakes fell swilffy, and when they continued to fall, hour after hour, cov ering the earth ijith a snowy mantle, boyish enthusiasm knew no bounds; such snowballing, sncii coasting on im provised sleds, such giant balls, such snow men, such forts! They knew what to do with it, our California boys, though unless they had been out of the State they had nerer seen snow before. They tried to cram the fun and frolic of a whole winter into one day. Nor were the girls less wild; qniet, sedate maid ens romped; they greeted the passing stranger, the family milkman, their friends young and old, with snowballs; dignity was thrown aside; young ladies forgot they were grown up, dandies threw away their canes, pat their gloves in their pockets, to return the" bails thrown from every side. Sueh a snow carnival was never seen. As for the old folks, why we were as bad as the young. The snow-storm came to us like an old friend, bringing to many of us happy memories of our childhood's home. Many a dear grandma let the snow settle on her cap as she stood on the sidewalk regardless of the pelting of a roguish grandson. Papa and mamma threw balls at each other. IVe all for got it was Sunday. It was not so funny when the Sunday-schools were ont, soon after the storm began, that the cbildren should shout, scream and roll in the snow, as it was abont two hours later when the churches were out, and the grown people acted like children. Coming out of one of the largest churcnes in town, a grave, sedate meniher slipped and fell; before on board in spite of the protestation of Keeper Hitchens, of the Life Service. That night the storm was terrific. The snrfmen succeeded in reaching a point opposite the wreck, at two a. m. of the 9th. Only the masts appeared in dim outline, while the hull was completely submerged. Several signals were burned to cheer the men on the. wreck and to enable the snrfmen to determine more accurately the position of the vessel. It was determined to make an attempt to rescue them with the boat, but after proceeding some distance the surfmen could see nothing of the schooner, and were forced to return to the shore. When it was light enough to see the vessel, the safety line discharged from the Lyle gun, was twice thrown accross the jibboom of the vessel; bnt as no attempt was made by those on boaid to get the line, it was hanled in .bv the surfmen, and each time it parted. Two more efforts to shoot the line over the wreck proved unsuccessful, owing to a strong adverse wind and the frozen condition of the line, which caused it to part be fore it reached the destined point. Had the line been thrown full across the ves sel, it would have availed naught, as Mr. Cobb stated that they were too be numbed with cold to have hauled it on board, even if it had been placed in .heir hands. Seeing then that the only hope of saving the imperiled men lay in reach ing them with the surf-boat. Keeper Hitchens and his crew, as soon as the ebbing tide allowed them to launch, set out through the storm and the sea, which was running half-mast high, to the rescue of the nine men (five of the schooner’s and four of the Cobb Wreck ing Company) who had been left on the stranded vessel, and who could now bo PASSING SMILES. he was allowed to rise, other sedate I seen lashed to the rigging, members had rolled him in the snow. I Keeper Hitchens and his men, though Every one, old and young, rich and I they had been out on the beach all night poor—was in the streets; we can give I in the terrible storm without fire or yon but a faint idea of the wild frolics I food, drenched to the skin from their indulged in. They were young ladies | first effort to board the vessel, and and gentlemen, not bad boys, who pnt a big snowball on the track,'making the car-driver get off of his ctr to roil it away, and, when a policeman appeared, snowballing him so he bad to run. Standiug in our dummy cars, the en gineer proved so tempting a target he was nearly smothered in the snow. Toor fellows, they could not stand it, the cars stopped running. People on top of high houses would make im mense balls, letting them fall on unsus pecting pedestrians. Many silk hats were made unfit for New Year’s calling The few Chinamen who ventured out had a hard time. Our China-bov stand keeping their fjet from freezing only by I “ naulen P» wading in the salt water of the sea, yet tentawere gone, rushed with alacrity to their duty. The! “William, you have again come up boat was launched and started on its ! unprepared!” “Yety far.” “But from perilous journey, but the current was so ' eauso?’’ “Laziness, sir. “John- strong that the men were cut to leeward B 9 n ’ William a good mark far np- and the boat forced inshore. Launch- ! rightness.” “Bates, yon proceed. “I ing the boat again, they got far enough | ^ ave not prepared, ^ too, sir. 7 „ “But why out to reach the line, which was fast on ! “From laziness, sir. “Johnson, board the wreck, but the sea was run- ; £»i v0 Bates a bad mark for plagiarism!” niog so high that it was snatched from I The young Positivists are multiplying, the bands of the men who held it, and ; Passing a group of children the other . again they were driven ashore. An- : evening, weheard a little girlof a dramatifl other powerful effort was made to reach turn of mind remark to a little boyper- the wreck, and this time they succeeded, j suasively, “Now, you are a bad angel. One of the men on the wreck, Ed- aren’t yon?” “ No,” was the dogmatic ward Hunter, of Maine, the steward of . rejoinder, “I ain’t a bad angel and I ain’t The person who does nothing in this world is Oy. “Maeriaoe m.kwt the man—the woman was maid before. A Western paper informs its reader* that its candidate for Congress slings the most eloquent lip of man in the State. A down-town physician reports busi ness “ terribly dull considering the state of the markets.”—Kingston Freeman. The farmer sowed the golden grain, And sewed th* farmer’s daughter; With her a charming episode, For soon she’d soda water. It is said that Ohio wives do their own housework. Now, that is the kind of an no hire idea we like.—Yonkers Statesman. Hancock’s father wanted him to leant tho printer’s trade. Had he done so, in stead of being a West Pointer he might have been a setter. “ Tis sweet to dye for those we love,” exclaimed a young man when liis best girl asked him wny he didn’t wear a black instead of a light mustache. The animal carries his tail at the op posite extremity from liis head; a man carries his tale in his month. And thus does many a man make both ends meet. It is learned from the Salt Lake Herald that Galileo discovered Limberger cheese floating through space in 1C09, and made an entry in his diary at the time that he thought it in a very poor state of pre servation. Smith says: “ My wife, who has just read that ‘it takes a Japanese girl thir teen hours to dress for a party,’ has sent to Japan to know how she does it. She can’t occupy more than four, for the life - of her.” A3 they were abont to Long an Irish- man in London, one of his friends who had come to witness the ceremony, cried: “I always told yon you would come to this!” “And you have always lied I X have not come—I was brought!” A gentleman who possessed an imita tion rat tobacco poncli, thought he would enjoy the nervous shock of a friend by placingit where his friend’s eye would sea it suddenly. He was much mortified when ^ the friend quietly took it np, helped him- ' self, and then pnssedit about till the con ing on the step-, asked: “What for him i P . _ boys he.an laugh? cold very bad?” He the schooner, who refused to g ~ up in agoodangeL There’s no snebthings had reason to think so before the end of I the rigging, had been washed over- angels, anyway.” the day; some boys caught him, buried | board and lost about daybreak. The remaining eight men were carried ashore—four at a time—dreadfully be numbed by their long exposure to tbe cold. Richard Gordon, a member of the Cobb wrecking crew, died from the effects of exposure just about the time he reached the sliore.—Onaeock Vir ginian, hint in the snow till ho was nearly smothered, and sent him home crying like a baby. We lived many years in the East, but never saw a snow-storm like tki-, for there all the trees (but the evergreens) are bare, the rose bushes are covered with brown branches, bushes and plants are dark and with ered; but here everything was different —the grass, trees, bashes all green. Many rose bashes covered with buds and roses, tbe climbing fuchsias red with flowers, tbe Abulilon gay with its swing- Waste In Land. _ More than half of the land in occnpa- ion is waste. If I raise eighty bushels . _ w sf corn per acre, and my neighbor ing bells. In our garden we had smilax, raises but forty, although my neighbor heliotrope, geraniums, fuchsias and may think he does well—which he does, roses. We picked our New Year bou- I and better than is commonly done—yet qnet after the storm began. Think of it requires double the amount of land I picking beautiful tea-roses ar.d white equal my yield. This is a loss of ini rosebuds in a snow-storm!—Cbr. Boston est and taxes on half of my neigh! Transcript. | land, or virtually so much waste 1 The difficulty is, his land is half fed. therefore can do but half the work. But usually land does much less than this, and can be made to do more than in the other case. This shows what an enor mous waste there is. Really, over two- thirds of our land is idle, the interest, The Malice of Inanimate Thing*. A Long Nap. A recent dispatch from Buffalo says: A very peculiar and remarkable case has just come to light in this city, but ha3 not as yet, strange to say, attracted • -- . —. , the notice of the local press. The State I t 01 ® 3 and repairs lost, and this loss a throe minutes of six. Oh, if there might fee some delay, something to make the other train e .en one minute late. But no. away in (he distance Ioouldsee afa’nt line of nooke eoariumearer and 'inis' IKS; Discover? of a Letter Written fey Adam t# Eve. In Josh Bolings’ “Cook Book and Picktoriol Receipts,” the following in teresting letter iB found: Edobu, Pzckhbeb. Year Two. Dear Era—I have been on tbe naapege now one month, praspeetiag for <mr new bone, sad end have eeea eaaw ranebee that will do tretti Tell, bnt none of them fuel tbe ticket. The eld garden iee hard piece to beet, bnt we have loetthaLand am tented owi now to root bog nr d£Twe will fight it oat negentUeitea if it Ukee mil ■ a greet bfamdoL,—, . faebygeeae; fbarata acton la la to yon. W The worth) Surprised to Death. Old John Morris, a Little Bock negro, hit upon the idea of Tanner anti-bilions pills, compounded, as he declared, accord ing to a recipe obtained of the long (aster. He sola some to a woman who died soon after taking them. John was arrested and taken to the conrt, where the following dialogue took place : “ Where did yon get the medicine you gave the woman? ” “I made hit from d’rections sent ter me by Dr. Tanner.” “What are its component parte?” “Hit’s made outen roots from the grotrn’ and leaves from de trees; Does yer wan ter bn? a bottle, Jedge?” “ No, sir, I don’t. The charge against you is a serious one. Whatm adeyour medicine kill the woman?” “Why, Jedge, de medicine didn’t kffl the ’oman.” -“What killed her? ” “ Why, Jedge, de ’oman died ob de surprise. Yer see she had been fakin’ ebervthing in the medical market an’ hit didn’t do her no gpod. Shedidn’hab mnch confidence in my medicine, and when she tuck hit an’ fenn’ that hit went right ter work fearin’ at tiie earners ob de biliousness, hit sur prised de Wen to death. Yer can’t hole anmfor smprisin* anybody to death. Ef I oome an' tells you a good piece ob news, an’ yon falls dead, de law can’t hold me ‘sponaihic An* ’oordin ter de i ‘rtoSMsay, if I gins a woman a dodfe ob medicine and hit surprise* her ter death, de law can’t pnt de clamps on Reserved Scats. In traveling, one meets with many selfish people; among them countless women who insist on monopolizing two seats in a railway car under the pre tense that one of them is engaged by an attendant gentleman, supposedly in the smoking-car for a brief intervaL We saw two women of this sort rightly served during a summer trip. For fifty miles they succeeded in warding off travelers who sought the shady side of the car, and the seat in front of them was the convenient receptacle of their baggage. Finally, however, an unconth- lookmg individual quickly removed the baggage and turned the seat. The astonished ladies paused in their con versation to each other and raised their hands as if in remonstrance, bnt it was too late; the thing was quietly and quickly accomplished, and the two for eigners who were seated there seemed to understand no words or gestures. Public opinion, in that cor, at least, sided with them. On another occasion, when our party entered a car, not a scat was available. One person was gnnrd- ing four, others one and two; the aisle : uncomfortably crowded “Tliis way,” said the conductor, “room in the lace car for those who are standing.” ie engaged seats were nt a discount (plenty of room now), but the conductor insisted that they should be retained by their occupants, and MI were made com fortable. “Do as you would bo dene by," is a good rale when traveling as elsewhere. Asylum for the Insane is located here and is one of the largest and finest in stitutions of this kind in the world. It contains at present about 250 patients, the most remarkable case among them being that of a man of German descent, constant dram. And yet this is not tbe [ worst; farmers, instead of disposing of some of their land, or working to its full capacity what they have, grasp after more, thus increasing the waste, and | too often decreasing the profit, with „ P ri who hails from a large town in southern | sometimes loss of the land m the end, Ohio. He was found lying in a street I ^bich is nsnaliy a relief. If yon men- here one dav over a year ago, and was I improvement to them they know it taken to the police station by an ignor- “11, and will even assume to instruct ant policeman who believed him to y°°» assuring you that some land is , and at his order made him two kevs. be intoxicated. There his real condi- | I°o poor to do anything with,” and ■ - ... ... ®X S * pleading a lack of manure, or the too A certain young man in this city can never be argued out of a belief m the total depravity of inanimate things, which has bee n impressed upon him in a singular and forcible manner. Last Saturday night he came home very late from the club—although that fact is neither here nor there. On reaching his sleeping apartment he proceeded to on- dress according to an unvarying system iDto which he nad fallen, lie removed his coat and vest and hung them over the back of a chair. Then he sat down and took off his shoes. He then drew a certain other garment—in short, his irs—in one pocket of which he was »med to carry a penknife and the :ey to his office desk. On doing so he heard the knife fall upon the floor, and, picking it np, he placed it npon tbe washstand and finished disrobing. In the morning he arose betimes, and,j resuming bis trousers, discovered ■ his key was missing. He groveled ' over the floor looking after it, bnt with out effect, and although hunting high and low, conld find nothing of it. As it stormed thatrday and the walking was bad he pnt on a pair of heavy boots, which he wore all day, and donn again on Monday morning. On T be tried all manner of keys on i but, owing to the diabolical ing of the lockmaker, none would nt, and on Monday he got a lock-mith to come np, who, after a long trial picked tha tion was discovered by a physician, and . . _ . . he was hurried away to the Insane I great cost of enriching the land with Asylum. The man has spoken but once I purchased manures. And yet it may bo daring the time he has been an inmate I Ibat round about them are those who of the Asylum. Then he declared inco- ne ^ er lack for manure, growing large hereDtly that the “Lord bad commanded I and profitable crops, on land originally him to sleep” and that he “would be I poor as the land they complain of. awakened by the Lord when it suited Good tillage and home-made manure His pleasure,” or words to the same I are the most successful means of raising effect. The man is insane, his peculiar I “nd profitable crops. The manage- delusion being that he must sleep, and F ent mu8t be to prevent not only waste sleep he certainly does, for he is utterly I * n tb® land, bnt in labor, in manure, unconscious, and has been for over & I in many other ways that may seem year, being fed on liquid food just as an I sma B, but in the aggregate amount to infant would be. His eye3 never open, I ma ®b. This must be done, as the aver- and when raised np in bed, if his sup- I “o e profit per bushel or pound of pro- port is withdrawn, he will sink down as I duce is necessarily small. Economy is limp as a dead person. Various devices I a valuable aid here as m everything have been resorted to in the vain en- I a* 3 ®* and the farmer can not well practice it too much. Besides, he must have knowledge and experience, not only in a general way, bnt as directly applied to his own land. He may grow large crops—the largest, if yon please—that will cost more than they are worth, as is often the case with premium crops, or with corn grown from the silo, or par ticularly where commercial fertilizers are used. The ground, very highly and deeply enriched, will lose somo of its manure before it can be appropriated, taking years to do it, with loss of the interest and the risks which accompany overgrown crops. Less manure might, on the whole, have grown as good crops deavor to arouse him from his lethargic condition, including electricity, shower baths, trickery, ete. In presence of the writer, Dr. Granger, one of the attend ing physicians, pinched the patient’s flesh in sensitive parts, bat not a muscle moved or quivered, yet when the head- board of his bedstead was soundly rapped npon with a brass key, the patient’s face twitched convulsively. Tbe man has excellent family con nections, and a brother of his declares that no insanity was ever noticed in his brother previous to his coming to Buf falo on a visit, when he was overtaken by his present great misfortune. Dr. so that no snch calamity as he had en dured should again fall upon him. With these two keys in bis pocket he went home Monday night to prepare for the theater, and on putting on the dress- shoes he had worn at the club found the missing key in the to* oCone of them. The language that he nsed at this dis covery was of a somewhat lurid char acter, but it seemed to do him good. And he swears and affirms that the key jumped into the shoe on purpose, hav ing previously arranged with the knife ~ to fall londlv on the floor at the sam» moment and avert suspicion; and ha,: furthermore deposes that the key will not now fit his desk, as it had stretehed the slot in it so widely by grinning over. its little joke that it can not move the . bolt in the lock.—Boston Journal. letaifojrtL Umbrellas. In the aeventeenth century an umbrel la generally measured about four feet in height andneari y four yards in circum ference. It weighed at least four pounds, and coat a earn varying from £2 to £3, and even more. It was then made of leather, oiled silk, or glazed paper, and constituted an important article of prop erty 1<«mM down as a family heirloom for aiiinir«tii*ai_tiTt was in 1780 that tha nris manpptarets began to reduce its aim; sUMMumhe it of lighter and ' ' Its color had Mi* well as oi the 1 the good ” 008, C3 re free ft***?, in tom with less loss. The best wav is—and this experience most largely deride—to use inure enough to grow fall crops, or snob as will seenre tbe most advant- age, all things considered, in which case there will always be enough manure left hinTtobe cognizant ofall that transpires I in th « 3051 to th ® a® 1 * C”>P. which in his presence. He is thirty years of ma Y P°‘ "<**}. additional fertility to age and unmarried. The bate, when | grow it, depending npon what is grown, it becomes more publicly known, will certainly awaken wide-spread attention hi scientific and medical circles. Granger states that the case is a rare one, only one or two snch being on record. He also states that the patient is liable to arise at any moment, either a perfectly sane man or a combative, destructive, raving maniac. He believes rcoldil some crops requiring less manure, and to some extent of a changed character; but there should always'be enough to tax the fall capacity (tithe soil, so that tha greatest profit, all things considered, may be realized. What is more than this is a waste, to some extent, of Yrne Love. Do you know what it is so to lire np-1 manure; what is less is a lack and im- a person who is present with you I plies waste in land.—F. a., in Country that your eve* follow hia; that yon read \ Gentleman. a wSShss hia wishes; that yon smile inhiasmBe" u - " ?yv thre ”. andmWin hisSn«».and.re» | £S2tfo? river. The iee gathacsd ranges fat thick ness from eight fe ’ owing to the low _ when it froze over, caotwhen he is vexed, and rejoiced : ‘Hava mtr got tho rent rea^y at sir; mother’s ‘Xa*;afe” oputii she’d A Light-Moose Keeper’s fstapr. On the highest peak of the hills of the Highlands of Navasink, N. J., stand the famous twin light-houses. Daring the heavy storms of last week Job Smith, the assistant keeper, was im- E risoned there for four consecutive da ‘ eeping the lights burning through i dense fogs that veiled the coast tor tl period. While thus engaged Smith l a narrow eseape from a terrible d The lar.l-oil which is nsed in the ^ lanterns of the Fresnel light is chilled, and the night being veiy c was necessary to apply hem to tbe i through which the oil passes to t burners. Smith used the ordinary si hoi flambeau provided for that purpo Standing directly underneath the fe tern he held the flambeau above 1 head. From some unexplained the top of the alcohol-holder be detached, and the fluid, which igu poured down npon his head. Haro down the tower into tim ■»«’it 1 and ont of doors, and the into a snowJumkhe so tinguishinggpEflames. board wer^nged and Mac burned and scorched, while ; foca^ltamto he received i three mdHon oerocoeodajlinb; ■ ef tfen while