Newspaper Page Text
jjjjj
v di F Publisher,
VOLUME X.
AFTER TEE BALE,
Tftt with high fantastlo load
Of h us hold g<x>ds, is at the gate:
1 !,c Shadows darken down the road-
Why does tho old man wait?
Bureau. bedstead, rooking-ehatr, •.
1 [.turned labie with heels in air—
>\b.. .o< r the grudging fates would spar©.
Lies hr.ldled and heaped and tumbled thor©.
A melan< holy freight!
“Of nil his riches,” the teatnkter anid
A " No w only this DroclOus pile remains!
blA"*et nna bod tor nis old gray head,
}i>r all his life-long pains.
Vn r - MVO r b ( th ° y that Prld
Bust nave .fall. His ropes ho tied
In the r.jill March wind. ‘’Hurry up!” ha
cried,
And gathered in the roins.
wife bows her stricken faco
On the door-stone, weary and worn and gray
The old mart Ungers about the place,
Taking u last survey;
Looks in unco more at tho great barn door,
on the empty mow and the vacant floor:
AH the gain- of his life have gone before,
And why should ho care to stay?
only it stool with n broken leg
Is left, and a bucket without a balk
The harness is gone from hook and peg,
Ev.-n the whip from its nail:
Dreary shadows hang from the wall,
JSo friendly whinny from shed or stall,
Nurunmlikcd heifer's welcoming call:
The poultry and pigs liavo vanished, ail
swept out by tho Sheriffs sale.
hack to the door-yard well he goes
For a parting look, a farewell drink.
UowMiiiipingiy that bucket rose
An i poised for him on the brink
In the summers gone, and plashed his feet
Wl,. n the men ca-no in from the harvest heat!
How blessedly cool Jho draught, how sweet,
Tls misery now to think.
TVhat scenes of peaceful, prosperous life
Once tilled liio yard, so di solute now I
" hen be often would say to his pleased, proud
That tha farm appeared, somehow,
Wore tlirilty and cheery than other men’s,
h!th its cattle in pasture and Swine In pens,
bleating of lambs and eaclilo of hens,
And well-stored crib and mow.
The . arly years of their proud success,
l bo yean; of failure and mutual blame.
Arc past, with tho toil that was happiness,
Amt the strife that was sorrow and shame.
. no mine to him hopeful and strong and fair—
fo w who islhe seal wraith sitting tliero,
" uu acr burdeu of grief and her old thin hair
do wed over her leeble frame?
-bo vou remember? This well,” he said,
oas sunk that summer when Jane was
born.
Site used t>> stand in the old house-shod
dud blow tho dinner-lioru
Jn utt r years—or climb a rail
o; Uu- door-yard fence for achoery hail—
llien run to the curb ior a brimming pail,
i " ken 1 otune up from tho corn.”
pwi-y think of her now? against whoso namo
ms lips and heart long since were sealed;
wDose memory in their lives became
A sorrow that never lias healed.
il'Tstep is on the creaking stair,
fu r girlish image is everywhere 1
in , rh ber laughter, he see3 her hair
IJ.UW- i.ack in the wind, as she comos to bear
ilia luncheon tq the field.
" Twas u terrible wrong 1” Tho oio w i fo
spoko, ,
“rii vnyi . nfir hc>r wunt frame to and fro.
u say :t now!” Her strained voice broko
■L hi'o a wail of woo.
launts me awake, it haunts me asleep!
.mi! silence has been so hard to keep—
ilong.—Hut there is n grief too deep
l or ever a man to kuowl”
< *m V< i l °/ uugulsh shook Ills tone,
w u s look was pierced with a keen remorse;
1,1, 1 10 ’ 1 suppose, was all my own;
Or , t, uavo no heart, of course!
if;. 8 , 1 '‘‘aven! nor any grief to hido!”
11, I T llls idoomy hat aside,
Ilf. llu Pi haggird and hollow-eyed,
V )uie w hose burning soul had dried
uis tears at their very source.
'No n,! j don’t mean that,” she wept.
And oftft, * you Rull, *ring many a day,
\„ i wh nT&i. wheil you thought I slept,
IV, , ’ n 1 have Want'd vou nrl f v
And n f for t he*! ?l lut my would’burst.
‘V 1 th ° blame, you know, qt first
min'd \ ovi wore right and did my wit
lo lore© her to obey.
F o,!r i , 1 1 ‘l iUI I "f °.\ ,r ]. ives had been to make
Our *h* ‘ ,noa 1:,,1y ,!t tor a lord;
n Cfi Wer ,° aU for our children’s sake,
To c' l f Sivmed ,l oruel reward
y,. T "® 1 ‘ Wlt b careless sc >ra refuse—
Tl 1 ' ar Mmonts we could use
mj, u most approved, and choose
uu ouo you most abhorred.
li v 'f' h( n s , h ? hadohosen and all was done.
Wo n i iffh ,1" V iav ? ln>on s " h:lrd and stern;
"1 id have forgiven the poor dear one,
Y >i,, "’doomed her r turn.
Y„; '' r ‘hnld know what she was to me,
Hi Vi 1 . bnow how l yearn to seo
• •'‘d again—how bomesiokly
.'earn, und yearn, and yearn!
W*\° S fo J herself. and who can tell?
* s ho'iii v r\ VO,l ,, y 'L ur "V 11 ’ i,,s Hue, ant yet
a'; lo r all that, have chosen well,
ir \ h ’ bow can we forget?
llu-hofivT> ik N’ and unawares
V ii,. ., I , !U . ber into a rich mans snares,
Vila a . ”* U P ifl bis loose alTairs,
■ ’’ragged us down with debt.”
1 h ifVna ,~ wit b a heavy sigh—“ Let’s go!
Someth'w.Sr’/V® 1 V, ys r iso * Ah ‘ Jan l
It ' UI -iht not be done just so,
But Aii ,!;• "ere to do again.
’’ur V,,V'' ls doad od the farm is gone;
Friend ~V ”1!', a l bat we built them on,
r j> Alia b' are scattered hither and yon,
r U" 1 nlj ourselves remain.
boughs will blossom and fruits will
Tba same! YYhou I changed the orchard
’fe? 1 al , l ' vit h good stone walk
Ana li'iif' hnetl the garden plot,
Ami >„V: U! ' arbor and nlanted trees,
W e iVV. ;V a homo for our pride and case,
S, th '< -were a 1 t > please
OAiongess who knew us not!
Other* w'ii „
Baton,, 1 ‘“0 ' Vl er' we have sown;
What w*t, ‘hr , never Crtn understand
Or h nvi i ea , re these fields have kuown,
Here ,n„;a * u> '' od the land.
s " 111 tuarry atid babes be boru,
Ctojo U iv''lL l lh-' n f on tbe wheat and corn,
but hvk of Rnd sheep* be shorn,
1 ** a str:uuter’a hand.
K DOUBLE danger.
A Strange Adventure.
tini* 8 ma ny a < l ueer voyage in my
queerelf 4 . < - >a P ta^u ), but the
(soin<uvj * ever " as one that I made
* a '-‘UU unexpectedly, as you will
Afr l * ie ,reat Fish River, in South
excursion 1 " a - V baek lrom a hunting
rirtr l m>are : 1 tiie a nk I saw <hat the
Xtn ** Hood, more than twice
m-r „ bl VV lth ’ running like a
l * knew at onee that I should
w j° b to get across—for
\on A .! ncan r ‘ ver ls no joke, I can
Would I I>ut *l knew also that mv wife
e terribly anxious if I didn’t
to Industrial IntfriKt. the Diffu m ot Truth, the Establishment of Justice, aiid the Preservation of a People’s Government
come l ack on the day that 1 had fixed
fSouth Africa being a f>lace where a
Rood many things may happen to a man
—and so I determined to chance it.
dust at the Water’s edge 1 found an
old Lusnman that I knew well, who had
a bout of his own, so I ha led him at
once:
“Well, Kaloomi, what will you take
to put me across the river?”
“No go fifty dollar this time, baas”
(master), said the old fellow, in his
half-Dutch, half-English jargon, “iioafc
no get 'cross- to-day; water groed
(great) l” s
And never a bit could 1 persuade him,
although I oOered him money enough
to make any ordinary liushman jump
head first down a precipice. Money
was good, he said, but it would be no
use to him when he was drowned; and,
in short, ho wouldn’t budge.
“ Well, if you won’t put me across,”
sad lat last, “lend me your boat, and
J’li ,;ust do the job for myself; I can t
very well take my horse with me, so I’ll
just leave him here in pledge that fill
pay ior the boat when I come back.” •
“Keep horse for you, master, quit©
willing; but ’spose you try cross to-day
ycu never come back to ask for him. ’
lie spoke so positively that, though
I’m not easily frightened, i certainly
did feel rather uncomfortable. How
ever, when you’ve got to do a thing of
that sort, Ibe less you think of itTthe
better, so I jumped into the boat and
shoved off.
I had barely got clear of the shore
when I found that the old fellow was
right, for the boat shot down the stream,
like an arrow. I saw in a moment that
there was no hope of paddling her
across, and that all I could do was iust
to keep her head straight. But I hadn't
the chance of doing even that very
long, for just then a big tree came driv
ing along, and hitting my boat full on
tho quarter, smashed her like an egg
shell. 1 had just time to clutch the pro
jecting roots and whisk myself up on to
them, and then tree and I went awav
down stream together at I don’t know
how many miles an hour.
At first I was so rejoiced at escaping
ju-t when all seemed over with me,
that I didn’t think much of what was
to come next: but before long I got
something to think of with a ven
geance. The tree, as I’ve said, was a
large one, and the branch end (the op
posite one to where I sat) was all one
mass of green leaves. All at once, just
as i vciw shifting myself to a safer place
among the roots, tbe loaves suddenly
shook and parted, and out peeped the
great yellow head and fierce eyes of an
enormous lion!
I don’t think I ever got such a fright
in my life. My gun had gone to the bot
tom along with the boat, and the only
weapon 1 had left was a short hunting
knife, which against such a beast as
that would 'be no more use than a
bodkin. 1 fairly gave myself up for lost,
making sure that, in another moment
he’d spring forward and tear me to bits.
But whether it was that he had al
ready gorged himself with prey, or
wlkither (as I suspect) he was really
frightened at finding himself in such a
scrape, he showed no disposition to at
tack me, so long at least as I remained
still. The instant I made any move
ment, however, he would begin roaring
and lashing his tail, as if he were going
to fall on me at once. So, to avoid pro
voking him, I was forced to remain
stock-still, although sitting so long in
one position cramped me dreadfully.
There we sat, Mr. Lion and I, staring
at each other with all our might—a
very picturesque group, no doubt, if
1 here had been anybody there to see it.
Down, down the stream we went, the
banks seeming to race past us a§ if we
were going by train, while all around
broken timber, wagon-wheels, trees,
bushes and the carcasses of drowned
horses and cattle went whirling past us
upon the thick brown water.
All at once I noticed that the lion
seemed to be getting strangely restless,
and turning his great head from side
to side in a nervous kind of way, as if
he saw or heard something he didn't
like. At first I couldn’t imagine what
on earth was the matter with him, but
presently I caught a sound which scared
nie much worse than it had done tho
lion. Ear in the distance I could hear
a dull, booming roar, which I had
heard too often not to recognize at
once; we were nearing a waterfall!
I had seen the great falls of the Eish
River more than once, and the bare
thought of being carried over those
tremendous precipices made my very
blood run cold. Yet being devoured
by a liou would hardly be much ot an
improvement, and as I hadn’t the ghost
of a chance of beingr able to swim ashore,
there really seemeu to be no other al
ternative.
Faster and faster we went--louder
and louder grew the roar of the cata
ract; the lion seemed to have given him
self tip for lost, and crouched down
among the leaves, only uttering a low.
moaning whine every now and then.
I was fairly at my wit"s end what to
do, when all of a sudden I caught sight
of something that gave me a glance of
hope.
A little wav ahead of us the river nar
rowed suddenly, and a rocky headland
thrust itself out a good way into the
stream. On one of the lowest points of
it grew a thick clump of trees, whose
boughs overhung the water; and it
struck me that, if we only passed near
enough, I might manage to catch hold
l of one of the branches, ami swing my
self up on to the rook.
No sooner said than done. I started
up, hardly caring whether the lion at-
INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA
tacked me or not, and planted myself
firmly on one of the biggest roots,
w here I could take a good spring wh n
the tiipe came. I knew that this would
be my last chance, for by this time we
were so near the precipice thp.t I could
see quite plainly, a little way ahead,
tbe great cloud of spray an 1 vanor that
Hovered over the great waterfall. Even
at the best it was a desperate venture,
and lean tell you that I felt my heart
beginning to thump like a sledge-ham
mer as we came closer and closer to the
point, and I thought what would hap
pen if I missed my leap.
Just as w r e neared it, it happened by
the special mercy of God that our tree
struck against something and turned
fairly crosswise to the current, the end
with the lion on it swinging out into
mid-stream, while my end was driven
close to the lock od which the trees grow.
Now or never! 1 made one spring
(I don't think I ever made such another
before or since) and just clutched the
knvest bough; and as J dragged mvself
on to it I heard the last roar of the
doomed lion mingling with the thunder
of the waterfall as he vanished into the
that overhung the precipice.
As fur me it was xace enough that
night before I got home, and t found
mv poor wife in a fine fright about me;
so I thought it just as well, on the
whole, to keep my adventure to my
self, and it wasn’t till nearly a year
later that she heard a word about my
strange fellow r -voyager. —English Maga
zine. _
Wintergrcen Oil in the Blue Mountains.
A letter from the village of Point
Phillips gives us in the Confectioners'
Journal , this account of a peculiar in
dustry :
That long sandstone ridge, called the
Blue Mountains, which runs past our
village, is remarkably productive in
huckleberries, foxes, birch and winter
green. In the heat of summer it yields
its berries to thousands of pickers; in
the cold of winter the hunters track the
wily fox, and during all the year the
luxurious growth of wintergreen and
sweet birch gives employment to num
bers of earnest men, who take up their
dwelling in the woods and manufacture
therefrom the oil of wintergreen. Pub
lic attention has lately been called to
this humble industry by the activity of
the internal revenue officers, who have
descended, so to speak, upon these
camps, and exacted a tax. Perhaps a
brief description of the process of manu
facture of oil of wintergreen and the
manner of life of those who make it may
prove more interesting to the reader.
Two men are necessary to carry on
the business, one to work by day and
the other by night. They build a hut
wherein to dwell and sleep. One sleeps
from eleven o’clock in the morning until
six in the evening, and other from eleven
in'ttie evening until six in the morning.
During the forenoon they work together
in collecting the wintergreen or birch.
The sweet birch is generally used to
produce the oil, unless wintergreen is
very plentiful. Bushe3 and branches
are cut and eh pped into small pieces,
while from larger pieces the bark only
can be used, and must be carefully
shaved off. About half a cord of this
material is collected and used every day,
and from it a pint of oil or thereabouts
is manufactured. The apparatus con
sists of a furnace, a boiler, a tin pipe, a
trough, into which water in continually
brought from a mountain brook, a bar
rel, and a glass jar. The furnace is
made of loose stones, so arranged that
the fuel is put in at one end, and tho
smoke goes out at the other through an
old piece of stove pipe. Over the fur
nace is the boiler, which is merely a
wooden box about three feet wide, four
long, and three deep, with the bottom
covered with sheet iron to prevent
burning. The boiler has a wooden lid,
so that it can be tightly closed, and
from the top leads the tin pipe The
pipe runs into the water-trough and
through it, so that the water always sur
rounds and cools it. The end of the
pipe, after coming out of the trough,
opens over a barrel, and in this barrel,
exactly under tho end of the pipe, is
placed the glass jar. This constitutes
all the plant.
Apostrophe to an Indian Maiden.
Thou still and senseless gob of
bronzed and dazzling worth, we hail
thee at a comfortable distance and trill
to thee our little song.
Who taught thee such untutored grace
of limb, such cross-eyed footsteps and
such simple trust?
Who taught thee thus to overtake the
angle-worm aad nail the locust in hia
rapid flight ? Who skilled thee in the
chase and showed the how to weave the
gaudy bead upon the yellow mocca
sin in wild, fantastic figures of rude,
impossible things?
Idly thou leanest ’gainst the cotton
wood, scratching thy back ferninst its
rough yet kindly trunk, while in thy
dark, mysterious'ey e there lurks a hidden
joy, a joy perchance like his who,
yielding to the buckwheat cake’s seduc
tive power, hath found the hat-rack in
the hall and worked it on his shoulder
blade.
‘Fair Alfarita! child of the dusky
night, we greet thee ’cross the purple
hiils like otkei poets who have written
of thy grace. Thy childlike face hath
won the poei to* thy side and (in his
mind) he tunes his lyre to thee.
Some day the warrior of the mountain
clime will come and woo thee in the
guttural, melancholy styie thy people
love, and in the twilight’s glow, when
nature and the bullfrog sink to rest,
with coy reluctance, like the man who
meets his mother-in-law thou, Alfarita,
daughter of malarious night, wilt yieid
thy future to the knock-kneed brave. .
Caricaturists.
“Are caricaturists engaged on the
illustrated journals on a regular salary ?’ ’
“Some of the best known are engaged
regularly, but a number refuse to make
any binding contracts, preferring to
work on the outside and sell their ideas
and sketches, but there are objections to
doing this, inasmuch as unprincipled
foremen can and often do steal an idea
that has been offered for sale and re
fused. Of course they will not have a
fac-simile of the picture offered, but the
ruling idea will prevail, and in cari
cature, ideas are what makes them
popular. On this account the best
known men work regularly for one firm,
and it is the best wav, as they have a
sure income, and can profit by the ideas
of the attaches of the journal. It is not
to be supposed that men like Tom Nast
originate all their own pictures, for
“Pro Bono Publico” and “Constant
Reader” write as much to Harper’s and
Le-lie's as they do to the great dailies,
and often suggest ail idea that, touched
up by an artist’s pencil, becomes a
famous caricature, and then the editors
and reporters often furnish a good sub
ject.
“Of course Nast gets all the credit,
and has thus become the acknowledged
caricaturist of this country. Of course
I do not wish to detract from his merit;
his work proves his ability.”
4 ‘ What is there about Nast that would
interest the public?”
“Oh, the public knows all about him;
lie has lectured and has been here so
long, he is saving of his money, and is,
therefore, very rich, for his salary has
been for years $250 a week, and he has
done outside work beside. ®He is the
highest-paid artist in the profession. He
has the knack of caricaturing public
men and politics, and is without an equal
in that lire.” >
“What about Matt Morgan?”
“Matt Morgan is an elegant artist,
with a vast fund of ideas on all conceiv
able subjects. He is a better general
worker than Nast, but Tommie had
been here so long that he knew just
what the people in this country would
appreciate, while Morgan had to experi
ment with them; he was first brought
here by Frank Leslie from England to
fight Nast, an i he made a gallant strug
gle and has.a* reputation co-exrensive
with the country. He has abandoned
caricaturing for the time being, and is
settled in Cincinnati, with a great show
printing house, on a salary of S2OO a
week the year round. He apparently
intends to stay there, as he is building
a $40,000 house on the hills. He is very
much devoted to his family, and always
has kept them in elegant style. He is
very fond of his six children.”
“Does Joe Keppler rank next?”
“ Well, I do not know that I wish to
state the rank in which these artists
stand. In the popular estimation Kep
pler would come next. He is very well
known here, as he was a resident for a
long time, iu fact, published two or
three papers, and was married to a St.
Louis lady. It is a peculiarity tfeat ho
made no money to speak of in this city.
Ho left here under engagement to Frank
1 eslie at a salary of SIOO a week, and
after awhile started Puck; his partner,
Schwartmann, put up all the money.
It was printed in German—a good idea,
as it is the only comic paper of ability
in that language. It was asuccess from
the start, and the demand for it necessi
tated an English edition. It is making
money fast, and Keppler will soon be
rich. He deserves it, as he has worked
hard and has great ability.”
“M ho else is there famous in this
line?”
“ Oh, there are a great number; it
would be hai’d to talk about them all.
The Lading artists of the great papers
are, of course, the best kuown, but
there are a number of men of ability
who are liable at any time to become as
w r ell known as those about whom we
have been talking. It is just as in any
other profession, some men are always
being talked about, and others of equal
ability are not even mentioned.
An Expensive Dinner,
“A thousand rubles (£150) per head
for a dinner,” says the London World,
“seems rather a High, price for even a
Russian to pay, yet such is the sum
which twenty-six cavalry officers each
paid for their Banquet at a hotel at War
saw a week or so ago. They ha l de
termined to organize a. dinner that, as
nearly as possible, should imitate those
of Roman Emperors who paid enor
mously for their luxuries, and preferred
them out of season; and, to a certain ex
tent, they succeeded. For eight hours
they ate plat after plat , and among the
courses appeared a ragout of African
turtle, and another of stew r ed nightin
gales. And, to make the thing appear
more real, these martial savages sat at
the table each with a fillet of roses
round his head!”
—A railroad conductor in Massachu
setts was recently made the victim of a
new fraud. He was paid ten dollars
in several bills, which in counting ap
peared to be eleven dollars, whereupon
he gave back a one-dollar bill and got on
his train. After the train started he
counted the money again, and was sur
prised to find he only had nine dollars.
Upon examining the bills he found one
which was made up of parts of a one
dollar bill and a two-dollax bill pasted
together, the face showing a two-dollax
bill and the back a one.
—lt is proposed by some very scien
tific persons to the interior of the
earth in search of natural heat for me.
eh&nical purposes, and they propose to
i sink their shift and money in .Japan.—
| St. Iritis Globe.
Corea.
The steamer Arabic, which arrived
from China on Friday night, brought to
this city Commodore Shufeldt and his
daughter on their return home*. A re
porter called on him yesterday at the
Palace Hotel. Commodore Shufeldt
stands six feet, weighs 200 pounds, and
although nearly sixty years of age is as
straight as an arrow and walks with
youthful energy. His hair and beard
are liberally streaked with gray, his
forehead high and broad, and his com
plexion browned with the sunshine of
the Eastern seas.
“Of course you know,” began the
Commodore, “thUt Corea is a country
that has long been inaccessible to the
world. I believe I am the first white
man who has ever trod the soil of the
interior, and, therefore, perhaps I am a
curiosity. So far as I saw them, the
people of Corea are greatly attached to
their country, have no disposition to
emigrate—which accounts for their ex
clusiveness heretofore—but are pos
sessed of a lively curiosity. On landing
in Corea to meet the two Ministers ap
pointed by the King to negotiate this
treaty, two officers accompanied me for
some distance into the interior. We
were unarmed, but were not molested.
The roads over which we traveled w r ere i
lined with people fov miles, attracted
probably by their first opportunity to i
look upon the face of a white man. In
some instances they crowded around us,
and, I suppose, commented upon our
strange dress and appearance, but they
made no attempt to molest us. We par
doned their obtrusiveness, because we
were probably a great mystery to them.”
“ In what respect do the Coreans re
semble the Chinese?”
“ I could see bat little resemblance.
The Chinese of different localities look
very different, as you know. The Mon
golians of the North do not very much
resemble the Mongolians of the South,
who mostly come to California, and the
Corean looks much unlike either class.
Their complexion is light, their hair
dark, long and wiry, and their eyes
black. They remind me of the North
American Indian, and I believe the re
semblance is sufficiently close to justify
the belief that Corea furnished the ma
terial to populate this country original
ly. All the difference between the two
races could have been produced by cli
mate and mode of living after the immi
gration here. Owing to the fact that
naturalists have never had an opportu
nity to investigate Corea, this resem
blance has not been carried out to its
logical conclusion,
“All the occupation the Coreans have
is agriculture, and the product of the
soil is mostly consumed at home. They
export a little rice and a few beans to
Japan, but they have no commerce and
no marine. All their carrying is done
on animals or by means of imperfect
boats on the rivers. They appear inof
fensive and not disposed to go to war
with anybody, and yet the mass of the
people are said to be curious in regard
to outside affairs. The country is ruled
by a King, who in his own dominion is
an absolute despot, having complete
power over the lives and property of the
most noble of his subjects. He is assist
ed in governing bv a council selected
from the nobility, who have charge of
the various departments—Judicial, War,
Financial and Interior Departments.
The person of the King for centuries
has been absolutely inaccessible, and no
person of his own race, much less a
foreigner, has been able to get into his
presence. It is sacrilege to utter the
name he has received from his Suzerain,
and that by which he'is known in his
tory is only given him after his death.
It is high treason to touch his person
with a weapon of iron. Notwithstand
ing the monarch’s exclusiveness, how
ever, in theory his ear is always open to
the people, and an appeal to him in all
grave matters is nominally permitted.
The interference of the nobility in poli
tics is also high treason, and the princes
of the blood are excluded wholly from
power. About a year since a plot to
gain control of the Government was dis
covered amqng the nobles, and every
person in any way connected with it
was beheaded. This treatment of the
participants iu the imbroglio was a
salutary lesson. Although the King
wields •such power, there are two politi
cal parties among the nobles of Corea.
One party is called the progressists, the
other by a name which implies their an
tipodes—those opposed to progress.
The former party is at present in power,
a fact which rendered the negotiation
of our treaty possible.”— San Francisco
Chronicle.
Society Note.
A coolness, growing out of the follow
ing conversation, has sprung up be
tween Gilhooly and his friend, Gus De
Smith:
•Thada splendid time last night,’’
said Gus. “I spent the evening at a
little social gathering at the Goodman
mansion.”
“Are the Goodman’s nice people?”
queried Gilhooly.
“Well, I should say so. They are
very aristocratic. To get in their circle
one must have either a great deal of
money or a great deal of genius.”
*' i You don t tell me so; and you say
you were there?”
“Yes.”
“You were invited, were you?”
“Of course.”
‘ And to be invited a man has to
have a great deal of money or plenty of
genius? ’
“Precisely.”
“Well, Gus, I am glad to hear you
have become -rich all of a sudden.
Lend me five dollars.” —Texas Siftings.
SUBS3R!PTION-SI.6N
NUMBER G.
HUMOROUS.
— Ella Wheeler wants us to “sit down
at set of sun and count the things that
we have done.” Can’t do it, Ella.
That’s our busy hour; and, besides, we
don’t care to keep count of ’em. It
wouldn’t pay.— Norristown HeraU
—An icsthetic invitation to dinner
concluded with these words:. ** 1 have
asked four minds to meet you.”
“ Thanks,” replied the uncultured one.
“ I am awfully sorry not to come, but
have already accepted an invitation C
diue with * fou.r stomachs the same
night.”
—Mr. Hoof ness has a foot as long as
his life, and when a horse stepped on his
toes he said he didn’t care so much for
the immediate pain in the toe, but it
was so - long to heal. Heal, you under
stand; seel* heel, heal, heel -so long to
heal—Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! he! he!
he!— Burlington Hawkeye.
—A Syrian convert to Christianity
was urged by his employer to work on
Sunday, but he declined. “But,” said
the master, “does not your bible say
that if a man lias an ox or an ass that
falls into a pit on the Sabbath day he
may pull him out?” “Yes,” answered
the c n ert; “ but if the ass has a habit
of falling into the same pit every Sab
bath day, then the man should cither
fill up the pit or sell the ass.”
—A suddenly rich and very muscuiar
young man from the oil regions stopped
at a seaside hotel the other day for the
first time, and had great difficulty in
getting anything to eat. A sympathiz
ing stranger at his elbow whispered:
“You will starve here if you don’t tip
the waiter.” Two minutes afterward
the waiter found himself tipped over on
the floor. The young man did not
starve. — Philadelphia News.
“ What a methodi al fellow you are.
Brown,” said Filkins, who had stepped
into Brown’s office during the latter’s
absence. “ Why, what do you mean?”
asked Brown, who had just entered.
“Mean?” echoed Filkins; “to think
that you should lock all your drawers
up when you were only going out for
five minutes! ’Tisn’t "likely that any
body would meddle with your papers.”
“Of course not,” replied Brown; “but
how did you find out that the draw
ers were locked?”— Boston Transcript.
—“ I often cross the street to avoid
meeting a man,” says Mr. Beecher,
“not because I have anything against
him, but simply because I do not feel
like speaking to him. I suppose all
men are this way.” Yes, nearly all
men are that way, Mr. Beecher, antTwe
are glad that you have mentioned the
sub ect, for it gives us a chance to agree
with a great man. We sometimes
cross the street and climb a fence to
avoid meeting a man, not that we have
anything against him, but because he
has something against us; a bill, Mr.
Beecher. — Arkansas Traveller.
—ln a Cambridge horse-car* “Now
I don’t believe in speaking against a
man behind lfis back. It does not do
any good and frequently injures an in
nocent part)*.” “It is an excellent
plan to follow,” returned the other.
“I’ve always done so,” continued the
first, “and found it worked well, but
there is Colonel So-and-so, lie is a sam
ple of the other kind He will back
bite and malign his neighbors, will get
a man into his confidence and then
give him away, and do all sorts of such
mean, contemptible tricks that I would
bo a-hamed of.”— Boston Sunday
B uicjc'..
Literal Oil on Troubled Waters.
A most striking experiment has been
tried at the Scottish port of Peterhead.
A feature of speech, for hitherto it has
been little else, was turned into a literal
fact. Oil was poured on the waves with
the result cf calming fair way at the
harbor’s mouth, so that a small boat
could enter in a storm. It has long been
known that oil exerted this effect. It
does so by simply destroying the friction
of the air on the surface of the water.
It smooths the way of the wind, and,
consequently calms the surface of the
sea. its accidental application has prob
ably produced the wide-spread knowl
edge of its effect, which has made the
figure of speech universal. We are not
aware that any scientific attempt has
ever been made to apply oil to the
waves. At Peterhead pipes were laid
down and a large quantity of oil was
forced through them. The oil at once
rase to the surface and spread in a thin
film on the water, with the effect of re
ducing the roughness to a mere swell.
Small boats were thus able to enter the
harbor w hich could not have ventured to
do so in the rough sea which was run
ning before the oil was spread upon it.
So far, therefore, the experiment was
successful. Whether it opens up the
possibility that harbor fmoutlis may be
made generally safe in rough weather bv
the expenditure of a few hundred gal
lons of oil can perhaps only be decided
by further trials. The machinery is,
however, laid down, and further testa
will, therefore, be easily applied. It is
evident that the effect, as described, is
ODe which would make all the difference
between safety and danger in a harbor
frequented by fishing boats, it is in
such harbors that it is likely, if any
where, to be of permanent value.—Lon
don Daily News.
*■ —During the trial of one lawsuit in
Cairo, N. TANARUS., an old man who mistook
the court-house for a church, entered
and sang several hymns before he dis
covered the character of the place, the
Judge fell through the rotten platform
on which his bench was perched, there
was a dog fight in one corner of the
court room; and a young man went out
through the window, taking the glass
with him.