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W. F. SMITH, D. J. THA XTON & S. J. SMITH, Publishers.
“A BAPPY NEW YEAR."
"A Happy New Year!” Hays one and all,
Jiilit: i wave of Joy it fills the air'
1- lorn the aged lips kind Rreetin K s fall
And merry words from the young and fair.
"AnaPpy New Year!” Oh ring it out
, .I, t'.'eoi-fian’s tone, and the peal of bells
>t C ? e hlldren sing and shout,
" ,th iadness and joy each bosom swells.
A .scroll that a little year ago
Was fresh and sweet sis a glad surprise,
As- spotless and pure as a veil of snow,
las slowly unrolled before our eyes.
And day by day, as the year went by,
A line was written upon the scroll;
''u-*' , i VO each a smile or sigh
u e have only smiles to give the whole.
Ihe fair white paffo of the cornin rr year
Oh, what is the record it will bear? ’
Will faith and courage our pathwaycheer
And loving hearts all our sorrows share?
To t hose it comes like a wave of light
Gilt-edged and bright as the morning’s
dawn; b
To others, perhaps, like a rayleas night
From which moon and Btars have’ been
withdrawn.
But the Hand that has held us hitherto
Is able to keep to the very end-
Though the wuy He loads us be’strangc and
new n
His justice and mercy together blend.
Ko, with stronger faith in the God wo trust
Get us greet with smiles this happy day,'
And wait for reward, if wait we must
Till tho scroll of the year has rolled away.
—Clara 11. Heath.
A NEW-YEAR’S GHOST.
The wind races wildly through the
town, making a weird, moaning” sound
in desolate places near the coast, where
great, dark roc\s cast their uncanny
shadows, and around the village gables.
The few stars which glimmer between
the heavy clouds look pale and shiver
ing, but the village windows are red
with light, and it is evident that an
event of no small importance is at hand.
Lanterns gleam along the main street,
footsteps echo on the frozen ground,
for there is only the lightest sprinkling
of snow over the rough hubbies. Hut
lanterns and footsteps all wind toward
the village store just now, where every
evening the sailor and farmer, even the
squire, the aristocracy, as well as the
humbler portion of the town, congre
gate to discuss the weather, the crops,
the news, and to relate thrilling stories
of adventures at eea.
To-night conversation is unusually
brisk and interesting. The parson
himself is there, and condescends to
joke a little with the cozy group at the
hack of the glowing store, while wait
ing for his purchases to bo weighed
and tied up in separate brown paper
parcels, and, in spite of himself, waits a
moment to hear the denouement of a
thrilling ghost story, told with the as
surance that it is a solemn fact, by a
brown old sailor, who shakes his gold
ear-rings as ho proceeds in his recital,
with a great deal of nervous energy.
“Now, this is ez true as I set in this
cheer, gentlemen,” ho announces,
gravely, at the end of nearly every sen
tence.
And though lie is not sitting at all,
but leaning his stalwart length over a
flour barrel, no one seems to doubt.
The squire looks as gravely interested
as the boys. The parson smiles, but it
is noticeable that tno smile affects only
one side of his mouth, and is as lacking
in amusement as is the open mouth of
the man who is waiting for the forceps
of the dentist in the advertisement of
the toothache medicine which adorns
the smoky wall. Tlio teller seems to bo
ns awe-stricken himself as his hearers.
The effect of the tale is heightened by
the dead silence of the place, the dim
ness of the lamplight, the weird shad
ows in the corners, and meandering
wreaths of smoke which curl up toward
Jhe dingy rafters overhead, and encircle
u\q head of the old story-teller, giving
him the look of an enchanter or a genii
of old working over the lire.
Outside there is the troubled voice.of
the sea, the wailing of the wind. The
sto.vended, a long-drawn breath goes
around the circle. The parson gives
utterance to a nervous little laugh then,
suddenly becoming alive to his dignity
and his duty, speaks against the folly
of superstition, with which he declares
the whole town to be alive.
“Wall,’t a’n’t no wonder, person,
when ghosts is seen walkin’ these hero
streets on dark nights,” spoke up anoth
er old fisherman. “I see John Norton's
phost last night as plain as 1 see you
this blessed minute. I went daown to
niy boat-haouso there to the landin’
about eight o’clock, an’ a cornin’ back,
jest cz 1 waz against them tew tall pine
trees afore you git to my haouse, there
he was standin’ ’n’ lookin’ me in the
face. The moon shone right onto his
features, ’n’ lor’! tliero wa’n’f no more
mist akin’ ’em than mistakin’ my broth
er's. I didn’t say nothin’, I was so
kinder took aback, not believin’ in
ghosts afore, V he turned into the
woods road that leads to the old Nor
ton place. Ho moved spry crnutF, but
’t wa’ n’t like walkin’. Ho kinder glided
off like a shadder,’n’his coat looked
sorter thin ’n’ white.”
“ Wall, naow, if 1 ha’n’t dashed!” ex
claimed a jolly-looking farmer, rubbing
his stubbly chin, excitedly. “My wife
’n' her sister declared to Moses that
they’d seed the same feller last night,
walkin’ past the house ’bout twilight,
but senee that spiritualist woman lias
heen here in the village, they ve been
ft seein’ ’n’ bearin’ all sorts o’ things,
’ii' 1 didn’t make no account of their
ghost, no more ’n nothin’ at all.”
“Whowas John Norton?” inquired
the parson, who was a new-comer.
“A sea Cap’in who got wrecked some
eight years ago, and as promising a
young man as we over raised in the
town,” said the Squire slowly, “I was
Devoted to Industrial Inter st, the Dilfii'ionol Truth, the Establishment of Justice, and the Preservation of a Peeples’ Government.
Ins first voyage as Captain, and those
who were saved say that he stood by
the ship until the very last minute,
lie was found frozen to death on the
wreck after tho storm was over bv a
vessel which was bound for Boston.
John was known by the Captain of this
vessel, and he brought the body into
port with him, and it was sent on hero
an 1 buried”
“Then there is no doubt but what the
man is really dead," said the parson.
‘•Sailors have sometimes the faculty of
coming to life again, you know; that
is,” ho added with duo seriousness,
“ '‘‘ere aro.lalse reports of their death.
H z many sailors have come back to
....mouth sa r e and sound, who have
been reported drowned?”
“Never but one senee I’ve been old
enough to remember,” said an old man,
who had hitherto been silent. “That
wuz Luke Higgins, ’n’ he’d V done
hisself ’n’ tho taown both a favor if ho
bed’a’ died. It’s them kind 41’ chaps
what dew turn up, not starlin’ good
fellers like John. John, he wuz a dret
ful loss.”
“Oh, there’s no possibility of John’s
being alive,” said the Squire, nervous
ly- “I saw him buried myself, poor
fellow. He was engaged to mv daugh
ter Elsie, and she, poor gill, has dono
nothing but mourn for him all these
years. I objected to the match at first,
but before he went away on his last
voyage, I became fully alive to his good
qualities, lie was a l rave, manly fel
low.”
Enter Mrs. Blagg the wife of a fish
erman, quite out of breath, and look
ing very wild.
“What is it, Mary Jane? You look
as if you’d seed a ghost, too,” said her
husband, who was one of the circle by
tho lire.
“So I have, Lemuel, true ez you are
alive. 1 come right face to face with
John Norton coinin’ through the field
from our house to the main road. I see
him just as plain cz I see you folks
neow, but I didn’t wait to see him long,
I ken tell vo, but just scud by him like
lightnin’, ’n’ run inlew the Squire’s, ’n’
told Miss Elsie all about it. I wuz dretful
scart. but 1 thought she’d ortor kneow
about it. so I kep up till I got thei’c, ’ll’
then I went otb intew a kinder faint.
Bein’ sorter weak after a fit er phthisic,
I couldn’t stan’ it.”
“Haow did ho look?” inquired one
man under his breath.
“Dretful nateral, only kinder white
hi’ peaked, ’n’ he kinder halted ’n’
looked straight at mo kinder wild ’n’
s’prised. They say ghosts don’t never
like to be overtook, ’n’ I don’t s’pose he
spected to meet nobody in that lone
some field.”
“ But how could you see his face so
distinctly on so dark anight?” said the
Squire, seeming considerably disturbed.
“Good grashus, you don’t s’pose I
went through that there field without
110 Juntern? Still, after giving him one
good look, 1 wuz so flustered that I
dropped Ihe lantern on the spot, ’n’ run
screechin’ along as fast as I could.
You’ll hcv to git that there lantern,
Lemuel, fur ’t wouldn’t dew to lose it,
no haow; wo can’t afford tew git a 1100
one.”
“Well, good people,” said the
Squire, “we mustn’t let ghosts inter
fere with our New Year’s festivities. It
is time that all invited guests should be
at my house, and here am I, the host,
away from home.”
And tho Squire hurried out of tho
store, anil a’ong the dusky wood until
he came to a brilliantly-lighted old man
sion on the hill.
It had long been his custom to give a
house-warming, as ho called it, on New
Year's Eve. Nearly all the town were
bidden to these festivities, and they
were enjoyed hugely by young and old,
rich and poor. Some of the old families
thought the squire somewhat democratic
in his way of giving entertainments, and
rather turned up their noses at the
small sailor’s and fishermen’s families;
but neither the sailors nor the fisher
men took it to heart, and everything
went merry as a marriage bell, as a
general thing.
The squire entered the house, greeted
a few guests who had already arrived,
and then sought Elsie, his daughter,
who was standing by the window at the
end of the long hall, looking pa’e and
distressed.
“Don't be troubled by Mary Jane
Blagg’s nonsense, dear,” he said, “she
is a foolish woman, and is always imag
ining all sorts of mysterious things.”
“But, father, I've had such strange
dreams of late. I don't believe in such
tilings, of course, but they say several
other people have seen the—appari
tion.’'
“ Nonsense! it is all imagination.
May be one of the Port Nortons is about
here just now. There is a strong family
resemblance between them all, you
know. The mystery will be explained
in a few days, 1 am'sure.”
Elsie cleared her brow, and entering
the parlor, greeted the coming guests
with her usual quiet cordiality. She
was a tall, handsome girl of twenty
seven, with the brow of a madonna, and
large, dark eyes, which, even when she
smiles, are intensely sad, though tilled
with a warm, kind glow, which
cheered one like a fire on a frosty
nght.
The largo, square rooms are soon
filled. Heartsome tires leap on the wide
hearthstones. There is gossip in the
corners, playing of games by the young
people; there are quiet flirtatious on the
stairs and in the halls, and after supper
there is to be a dance in the great din
ing-room.
“Elsie looks paler ’n soberer ’n ever
to-night, don’t she?” asks one of the
gossips in the corner of her cronv.
& “Yes, she duz. I was a hopin’ tl*at
she’d qu’t thinkin’ or John Norton, ’n’
give Tom llollins, that ’s worn to a
shadder waitin’ fur her, some encour
agement. They did say, jest beforo
John went away, that she was ruthcr
turnin’ the cold shoulder on him, ’n’
favorin’ Tom; but, lor’, there warn’t no
truth in it, fur I see she and -John part
the day he went away, ’n’ though they
was both quiet ernuff, there warn't no
coldness between ’em. I kin tell ye.”
“Did you hear keow John Norton’s
ghost lied been seen raound here by
four or five different persons?” savs an
other gossip in a mysterious whisper.
“Elsie’s heerd on it, and she's terribly
out about it,”
“For gracious sakes, no! When?
Who? Y\ all, I kneowed suthiu’ wuz a
goin’ tew happen. I told Siah so this
very night, fur there’s bin tew Jookin’-
glasses broke here tew the squire’s
within the past month—all shivered to
pieces. Pliobe Ann, the help, told me
so.”
“Mis’ Lemuel Blagg, she was so took
aback by seein’ or him, thet she went
intew a faint, ’n’ it took tew glasses or
sperit to bring her tew agin.”
“ You don’ t say so! I never heerd tell
o’ such a thing. Where wuz she? ’n’
hoaw did he look?—like a corpse, or
like a live man, ez I heern some dew?”
“ YVall, she was so llustered when she
see him, thet she dropped her lantern,
’n’ carn’t tell fur’s I kneow jest haow
lie did look. Hiram Pratt ’n’ Mis’ Job
Johnson ’n’ her sister hez seen him tew,
’n’ they say ho looks dretful nateral,
only some older ’n’ he did when he
died. They ’re a settlin’ up the old
Norton estate in a putty queer way,
them Norton wimmen over tew the
Port, ’n 1 that’s why his gho3t is a lurkin’
around these parts, 1 s’pose.”
“Speakin’ o’ ghosts,” says Captain
Riley, an old sailor who had had more
strange experiences, known more
mysterious happenings, than any
other mail in the town. anil
that was saying a good deal; “I saw a
dretful strange apparition out tow sea
abeout twenty years ago.”
“Do tell us about it.” said several of
the young people in the same breath,
leaving their games and joining the
circle around the lire, for Captain
Riley’s stories were famous in the
town.
“Wall, naow, I s’pose I’ve told the
story a hundred times over at one time
’n’ another in this place, but if you are
anxious to hear it I can tell it again.”
Nearly all the peoplo in the room
were anxious to hear it, and after tilt
ing to and fro in liis chair several
times, and clearing iiis throat with a
great deal of vigor, he commenced to
relate the thrilling tale of aghost which
appeared on shipboard during one of his
foreign voyages—the ghost of a sailor
who had been wronged by the former
master of the vessel, and was mysteri
ously murdered on shore after the ship
reached port.
Elsie, her large, dark eyes dilating
with interest or emotion," joined the
listening circle, though she usually
either laughed or frowned at the Cap
tain’s weird recitals.
“Let us take the lamps out of the
room, the story will seem ever so much
more real,” says one of the laughing
girls, who enjoy nothing so much as tho
blood-curdling which arises from the
contemplation of the supernatural.
So the lamps are removed, and the
glory of the scarlet coils and flickering
firelight only half illumine the large
room, with its dark wainscotings and
deep window embrasures. As the tale
goes on the fire grows lower and lower.
Shadows gather in the corners and
creep in among the silent group of
listeners. The old man's voice lias a
strange, weird quality in it, like that of
the sea when it whispers to sands
where there are graves, or around
rocks where there have been wrecks;
like that of the wind when it moans in
the chimneys of haunted houses, or in
ghostly woods where some murder has
been committed in years gone by.
Perfect silence reigns. But just a3
the interest of the tale is at its height,
and the young pe> )ple are clinging to
each other with awe-stricken looks, the
fire Hashing into sudden life shines on
a face framed in one of the window-
Eanes, the face of one who has been
uried in the old grave-yard behind the
church nearly eight years. The eyes
are fixed upon Elsie with an eager,
searching glance for a moment, and
then the flame and it vanish together
into the darkness.
Elsie, who has met the glance with
her own eyes, utters a wild, scared cry,
and falls fainting into the arms of her
companions. Shrieks sound from dif
ferent portions of the room.
“John Norton, if ever I see him in
mv life. Why, his face was as plain as
daylight,” is heard in awed whispers
from every side.
The ’Squire, who lias been drawn to
tho room by the screams of the women,
on learning the state of affairs, rushes
immediately to the front door, and there
upon the steps, with his hand upon the
knob of the door-bell, stands the ghost
—John Norton!
The 'Squire involuntarily takes a few
steps backward, and stands in speech
less amazement and fear.
“Happy New Year, ‘Squire! You
don't seem very glad to see me,” come
from the ghost' in a hearty, most un
ghostlike tone, “lam afraid I fright
ened the ladies in the parlor. It was so
dark that I didn’t think I should be
seen.”
“Who ir. the world are you?” in
quired the ’Squire, looking somewhat
‘CDon’t you know John Norton p Havo
I changed beyond recognition in these
eight years ?
“ But you— but John Norton is dead,”
said the*Squire, with chiUjiig remem-
JACKSON, GEORGIA.
brances of what he had read about ma
terialistic spirits in his mind.
The ghost laughed merrily.
“If 1 am deadr I am profoundly ig
norant of the fact,” said he, “and lam
surely John Norton.”
Elsie, who had recovered from her
fainting lit, at the sound of Hi is voice
rushes into the hall, and is immediately
folded in his warm, strong arms.
“ Ghost or man, you are my John,”
she says.
Several ladies became hysterical at
this point, and the squire in a state
of the wildest excitement walked to
and fro, rubbing his hand across his
forehead in a dazed manner.
“Whatisthk matter?” inquired John,
finallyreleasing Elsie from his embrace,
but still holding her closely by tho
hand. “I know that I was reported
drowned, but how many sailors have
come back under the same circum
stances.”
“But you are buried in this town. I
went to Boston myself and identified
your body. Have—haven’t you seen
your grave-stone V”
John stared at the squire in blank
amazement.
“No. I can’t say that I have. A man
doesn’t often see such a fight. What do
you mean?”
“Why, a body was picked up from
the wreck of your ship, which Captain
Graves, who knew you very well, took
to be yours. The face was disfigured a
good deal, but the body had 011 a coat
with vonr name sewed into the lining.
It had tho same mark on the left
hand, and the hair, complexion, height
and size corresponded exactly with your
own.”
“It must have been poor Thompson.
Everybody took him to be my brother.
He was very much like mo certainly. I
was saved by a miracle, and was taken
on board a ship bound for Australia.
T ”
“But, John, why did you not como
home before?” said Elsie, loosening
her hand from his grasp, and regarding
him with reproaching dignity.
“Because I heard that Elsie Newell
was married to Tom Rollins. I heard
it from his brother, whom I saw often
whiie in Melbourne. Tom has known
that I was living all the time, the
scoundrel! He left town as soon as ho
heard that I was on my way home. I
hoped to find him here, for I have an
account to settle with him.”
“He is. indeed, a scoundrel,” says
Elsie; “but, John, this is New-Year’s
Eve, and we are so happy, let us for
give him. Let us forgive everything
that was painlul in the past, now that
we are to commence tho New Year to
gether. Surely, it cannot fail to be a
happy one.”
“Amen!” exclaims John.
But the squire says after a moment’s
meditation:
“Now-Year’s Eve or not, daughter,
I believe if that man doesn’t keep out
of my way, I shall throttle him.—Bal
lou's Magazine.
A Deep Mine.
The depest coal mine in America is
the Pottsville, in Pennsylvania. The
shaft is 1,57 G feet deep. From its bot
tom, almost a third of a mile down, 200
cars, holding four tons each, are lifted
every day. They are run upon a plat
form, and the whole weight of six tons
is hoisted at a speed that makes the
head swim, the time occupied in lifting
a full car4>eing only a little more than
a minute. The hoisting and lowering
of men into coal mines is regulated by
law in that State, and only ten can
stand on a platform at once under pen
alty of a heavy fine. However, care
lessness can not be prevented, and
uuaccustomed visitors are appalled by
it. “A person of weak nerves,” says a
correspondent, “should not brave the
ordeal by descending the Pottsville
shaft. The machinery works as smooth
ly as a hotel elevator, but the speed is
so terrific that one seems falling
through the air. The knees after a few
seconds become weak and tremulous,
the ears ring as the drums of these organs
are forced inward by the air pressure,
and the eyes shut involuntarily as the
beams of the shaft seem to dash up
ward only a foot or two away. As one
leaves the light of the upper day the
transition to darkness is fantastic. The
light does not pass into gloom in the
same fashion as our day merges into
night, but there is a kind of phospho
rescent glow, gradually becoming dim
mer and dimmer. Half way down you
pass, with a roar and sudden crash, the
ascending car; and at last, after what
seems several minutes, but is only a
fraction of that time, the platform "be
gins to slow up, halts at a gate, and
through it you step into a crowd of
creatures with the shapes of men, but
with the blackened faces, the glaring
eyes, and wild physiognomies of fiends.”
Nasal Paralysis.
A candidate asked a man, who was
working against him, if there was not
something the matter with his nose.
“ Not that I knows of,” was the reply,
“ Isn’t your nose paralyzed ? ”
“Why, no; what makes you think
so?” responded the other, feeling his
nasal organ.
“Nothing, except that my opponent
has been leading you about by the nose
for the last four or five years, and you
don’t seem to know it, so I thought you
could not have much feeling in it. ”
—A novel fnneral cortege was re
cently seen in Wyandotte, Kansas. On
one side of the hearse walked six young
! ladies, and on the other side six young
i men. The former wore black gowns,
i white gloves and white crape badges,
; and the young men wore the conven
tional black.— Denver Tribune.
Texas Land Corners.
We rode out last week with a surveyol
and his assistant, who said they were
going out on the prairie, some twenty
miles, to survey a thousand acres that a
stockman wanted to enclose for a past
ure. Tho land had been surveyed be
fore,but the corners had been misplaced,
or carried off by someone, and to find
out the boundaries anew survey had to
be made. Wo often wondered how a
man could identify his land on a fiat
firairie where there were no apparent
andiuarks to guide him. In wooded
lands the corners are known by marks
cut in trees with an ax, but where
there are no permanent natural objects,
the surveyor marks a corner by driving
a small wooden stake into the ground.
This is a very unsatisfactory arrange
ment, because the first teamster who
comes along will probably carry off tho
southeast corner of the survey, and cook
his breakfast with it, or appropriate the
northwest corner, and use the ancient
landmark to whittle on as he rides
along.
In the absence of wood, a few stones
or bones are piled up, and form a cor
ner, and we have seen a cow’s horn
stuck in a buffalo chip make one of the
marks of the corner of an eleven league
grant.
When corners arc lost or mislaid, the
surveyor, to find the place again, has to
go back to some plainly defined starting
point, called an “established corner,”
on some other grant, and survey from
that. He often has to run a line ten
miles in length, from a known to Jind an
unknown point. There is one kind of
corner that a teamster has never been
known to carry off. It is made with a
spade. Teamsters may have attempted,
but have never succeeded in carrying off
a hole in the ground.
There are certain old Texans in evei’y
locality who know, or pretend to know,
the location of most ali the old Span
ish grants in tho State. These old
frauds are continually appealing in the
courts as witnesses in cases where bound
aries are disputed. They can point
out and identify corners, follow mean
ders and give the biography and pedi
gree of the original grantee of every
piece of land within a radius of a hun
dred miles from where they bear wit
ness. They have wonderful memories.
We knew one of them who testified to
having carried the chain in a survey
made in 1806. As he only claimed to
be 80 years of age at the lime he gave
his testimony, the fact that he was able
to carry a chain in 1806 goes to show
what a precocious and robust race the
early Texans were—figures proving that
this man was but four years of age when
he was engaged in the surveying feat al
luded to.
The extraordinary memory exhibited
in the matter of the identification of
corners by the old Texans is explained
by a quaint custom common in the early
days of the Republic. When a settler
received a giant of land from the Span
ish Government, he would get it sur
veyed and have the corners established.
Then, that the identity of the bounda
ries be preserved in the family,
would take his children out periodically,
and whip them on the corners of the
land. It was no uncommon thing for a
traveler, as he journeyed across the
prairie, to see a rugged old pioneer
standing on the northeast corner of his
league and labor of land, thrashing his
eldest with a raw-hide strap, while, un
der the ministrations of his mother, a
younger son was howling on the south
west corner.
In such manner was nurtured the boy,
who has since developed into the old
veteran of to-day, so eloquent and unre
liable,
“As scones loner past ot joy and pain,
Come wandering o’er liis aged brain ”
Texas Siftings.
The Frigate Bird.
“ I see,” says Michelet, “a small, blue
point in heaven. Happy and serene re
gion, which has rested in peace above
the hurricane ! In that blue point, and
at an elevation of 10,000 feet, royally
floats a little bird with enormous wings.
A gull ? No, its wings arc black. An
eagle ? No, the bird is too small. It is
the ocean eagle, first and chief of the
winged race, and daring navigator who
never furls his sails, the lord of the
tempest, the scorner of all peril—the
man-of-war or frigate bird. We have
reached the culminating point of the
series, commenced by the wingless bird.
Here we have a bird which is virtually
nothing more than wings; scarcely any
body—barely as large~as the domestic
cock—while his prodigious pinions are
fifteen feet in span. The great problem
of flight is solved and overpassed, for
the power of flight seems useless. Such
a bird, naturally sustained by such sup
port, need not allow himself to be borne
along. The storm bursts; lie mounts
to lofty heights, where he finds tran
quillity. The poetic metaphor, untrue
when "applied to any other bird, is no
exaggeration when applied to him ; liter
t'Jly, he sleeps upon the storm. When
lie chooses to soar Ids way seriously, all
distance vanishes ; he breakfasts at the
Senesral • he dines in America.”
—Sheep should have airy, well-lit
tered sheds, with plenty of sunshine,
and protected from snow. One great
advantage of keeping sheep is to con
vert straw into manure. Hence much
litter is usually strewn in sheep shed3,
to the distress of the sheep, unless they
have hard places to lie upon, because
their feet and legs get so hot. A few
platforms, like old doors, which cau be
shifted about every few days by turning
over, will be greatly enjoyed, and will
promote both health and comfort.—Ex
change.
SUBSGRIPTION“SI.SP.
YOL. X. NO. 20.
SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY,
—A Florida youth has discovered iltat
strong, soft, llexible rope can be m;de
from the fiber of the common cocklobur
bush.
—The deepest mine in tho world, ac
cording to Prof. 11. Hoefer, is the Przi
bram silver mino in Bohemia. The
lowest depth 3,300 feet below the sur
face.
—A progressive Atlanta (Ga.) man
claims to have invented a milk pail that
is kept in motion by a spring, and when
he gets through milking a cow the milk
has been churned into delicious butter.
—Salting, M. L. Fouriment asserts, is
not necessarily fatal to trichinae imbed-
meat. These parasites may live
in salt provisions for fifteen months.
Salting, indeed, often serves to proservo
the vitality of trichin re, as it protects
them to some extent from the destruc
tive inlluence of heat.
—A needle manufactory has been es
tablished at Brooklyn, and is the only
one in the country, all needles hitherto
having come from Europe. They are
lobe made by machinery, which will be
tho first attempt of tho kind. The
manufacture has been entirely by hand
and requires many operations; the con
version of the wire into rough needles
requires twenty; the tempering and an
nealing nine; polishing live, which are
repeated seven or eight times, and sort
ing five. The Brooklyn enterprise will,
it is to be hoped, prove a success.—
liroohhjn Eagle.
—Mr. James B. Smith, of Hackets
town, N. J., has invented and patented
an improved signal for railroad cross
ings, tunnels, and dangerous places,
which is declared to be cheap, durable,
and incapable of disarrangement. A
bowed spring is placed near the rails,
so that tho wheels of the passing train
operate upon it, and by means of a lever
and wire attachment work a gong bell
and signal which are placed at the re
quired distance ahead on the track.
The signals remain exposed until the
trains have passed, and by means of
another spring are restored to place.—
Christian Union.
—A new building material called
“fossil coral,” has been discovered in a
small island in the Bay of Suva, Fiji.
When it is first removed it is soft and
easily cut into square blocks or any oth
er desired shape, but when it is exposed
to the open air for some time it grows
very hard and assumes some of the
characteristics of fire-brick. What the
actual origin of this substance may have
been is uncertain and will form an in
teresting- problem for geologists. Afc
any rate it has been found so useful for
building purposes that the Fijian Gov
ernment have given a large order for
cubes of it.
PERSONAL AND LITERARY, x
—Mr. Parnell writes that his doctors
forbid him traveling, and that he can
not address constituents until after the
session.
—The Rev. J. P. May, of Memphis,
refused communion to an excommuni
cated member of his church, and the
latter attempted to whip him. Tho
dominie was equal to the occasion, and
the other is in the hospital.
—John Steele, better known as “Coal-
Oil Johnny,” the fame of whose mag
nificent fortune and reckless extrava
gance still lives, is now engaged in man
ual labor at Williamsport, Pa., and re
ceives $2.60 per day for his services.
—The new heir to the Swedish crown,
son of the Crown Prince, will bo called
Prince Oscar Frederick Olaf Gustavus
Adolphus. Duke of Shoonen. Had he
been born a week earlier his birthday
would have fallen on his namesake’s
250th anniversary, which would have
been thought a happy omen.
—Queen Victoria has conferred a
baronetcy on Mr. William John Clarke
of the colony of Victoria. This gentle
man is probably a son of the man known
as Big Clarke, who made the greatest
fortune on record in Australia. This is
fprobably the lirsthereditary honor con*
erred on an Australian.
—Minister Hamlin was impressed
with the informal politeness with which
he was received at the court of Madrid.
At his first presentation King Alphonso,
who speaks English, but not so fluently
as the Queen, said to him: “Now, Mr.
Hamlin, come into the next room, and
let mo introduce you to my wife,” not
calling her the Queen.
—The late Philip Turpin Johnson, ol
Chesterfield County, Virginia, left all
his property, including “the country
seat of the great Revolutionary orator
and Governor, Patrick Henry,” to Dr.
J. W. Johnson, of Richmond, to whom
the deceased was not related. Mr.
Johnson was a bachelor brother of the
late Major-General Edward Johnson, of
the United Slates and Confederate
service.
—Charles Gordon Greene, Jr., son of
Colonel Greene, formerly editor of tho
Boston Post, whose death in Paris was
recently announced, had lived abroad
for nearly twenty-five years. He was
an energetic and successful man of
business, and strongly endowed with
the family taste and talent for litera
ture. To the leading magazines of Eu
rope he contributed many papers, and
did, besides, some work as a corre
spondent.
—To clean steel forks fill a small keg
with fine sand or brick-dust, press it
down well, and let it be always kept
moist. Run the prongs of the fork in
tills once or twice, and nil the stains will
disappear. Brush the dust from them
as soon as they are token out of the
sand, and polish bet weed the prongs
with a slender stick covered with
leather. —Chicago Journal.