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PENS A TION. *
COM
■yoke folded op the worn and mended frock
And smoothed it tenderly n-.on tier knee,
*11*,o through the soft wel> of a wee rod nock
hhe wore the blight wool musing thought¬
fully. world hi fntr,
^Cx.n thin he all V The great so
1 hunger for.itH green and pleasant ways,
A cripple prisoned in her restless chair
j from her window with a wistful gaze.
“The fruits I cannot reach are red and sweet,
paths forbidden are both green and
wide, to helpless feet
©Trail! there is no IrOon
fie altogether sweet as paths denied.
Sfwne is most fair; bright are my household
Arcs, alloy,
And children are a gift without
«..> ,vbo would bound the field of their desires
Hj* the prim hedges of mere fireside ]oy ?
«/ ran but weave a faint thread to and fro,
Making a trail woof in a baby’s sock;
Jr to the world's sweet tumult l would go,
At its strong gates my trembling band would
knock.”
Just then the children came, the fattier too.
Their eager face* lit the twilight gloom.
“Hear heart,” he whispered, as he nearer
drew, little room!
“How sweet it is within this
puts my strongest comfort here to draw
"w- *, isat and common wells are
Tour pure flostri?!. iff* u.
Toll me, dear one, who I* «, <„ f j
Home is the pasture where mx *>u; 'naytOgn
This room a paradise ha* grown to 1st;
And only where these patient feet shall lead
Can it lie home for these dear ones and me.”
. He touched with reverent hand the helpless
feet,
The children crowded close end kissed her
half,
s©m mother is no good, and kind, and sweet,
There’s not another like her anywhere!”
©be baby in her low bed opened wide
The soft blue flowers of her timid eyes,
And viewed the group about the cradle side.
With smiles of glad and innooiwitaurpriso.
S be mother draw the baliy to her knee
And, smiling, said: “Tho *tars shine soft
to-night;
Bty world is fair; it* edges sweet to me,
And whatsoever is, dear Lord, is right!'
—Mar Itir.i.KV Hwi'in.
T rho Stolen Note
Kxoopt that lie indnlged too freely in
the use of the iutoxicatiug high-minded cup, Joi n
Wallace whs an honest,
and extraordinary man. His one great
fault hung like a dark shadow over his
many virtues. He meant well, and
whoii he was sober lie did well.
Ho was a hatter by trade, and by in¬
dustry and thrift he had secured money
enough to buy the house iu which lie
Jived. Ho had purchased it several
years before for three down thousand dollars,
paying one thousand and securing
.46* iialmioe by muftgage to the seller.
The mortgage was almost due at the
time ojroumatanoea made mo acquainted
with the affaire of the family. But Wal
lace was ready lor tho day; he hud saved
sip Uie money; there seemed to be no
(Hissiliility of an a cement. I was well
acquainted with Wallace, having done
some little collecting him. and drawn his up daugh¬ legal
ter documents Annie for to One office day in great dis
came my
toass, declaring that her lather was
ruined, and that they should be turned
out,of the house iu which they lived.
* ‘Perhaps not, Miss Wallace,” said I,
trying to console her, aud give the affair,
whatever it was, abriglit aspect. “What
lias “My happened father," r’ she replied, “hail the
■non oy to pay the mortgage on the house
fn w luoli we live, but it is all gone now.”
‘ Ha* lie lost it ?"
“I don't know. I aupjHMe so. Last
week he drew two thousand dollars from
tbs hank and lent it to Mr. Bryce for
4sn davs.*'
“Who is Mr. Bryce?’
“He is a broker. My father got. ae
©UMUtod with him through Ueorge
(v . mllor, who boards with ns, and who
It Mr. Bryce’s clerk.”
"Hoes Mr. Bryce refuse to pay it ?"
“He says be has paid it."
“Well, what is the trouble, then ?’’
“Adecdl “lftthcr says But he has not paid will it."
the note prove
*lia» he has not paid it. Ot course, you
have the note?"
“No, Mr. Bryce has it."
•’Then, of oourse, he has pawl it?”
*■] »u|>po80 lie has, or he could uot
Juive the note."
' What does your father say ?"
• Hs is positive h# never received the
fueuey. The mortgage, ho says, must
tie paid to-morrow."
I “Very hesitated singular! to the Was unpleasant your father—’ word
use
svhinh must have grated harshly on the
«nr of the devoted girl.
“Mr. Bryoe says father was not quite
right when be paid him, but not very
“I will see your father.”
“He is oomitig up hero in n few mo
•rr enta; T thought 1 would see von first
©ml teU you the facts before ho dune.”
“I do nof nee liow Bryce could have
obtained the note unless ho paid the
money. Where did your father keep
it?”
“He _ it to and I put it the
gave me, m
Si .-reUi r y.
“Who was ill . the room when you put
xt in the secretary ? ’
“Mr. Bryce .George Chandler, my
father and myself. |
The conversation was here interrupted |
by {isle tho entrance of Wallace. Ue looked
and haggard, a* mu oh from the
■cffHfcfis ot anxietr as from tho debauch
•from which he was recovering. >
“She has told you about it, I sup
• met,?" soul he, iu a verv low tone.
“She has.” j
r pitied him, poor fellow, for twe
ft naand dollars was a large sum for
t m to accumulate in liis lirtle business. j |
n he loss of it would make fhe future
i <*k like a desert to him. it would, be j
« misfortune which one must undergo to j
„ipr< rate it
“Wliai passed between you on that j
, ;y?" i
•“Well, I merely stepped into bis effi
-it was <>» The day Indore yesterday-- j
t»> tell h loot to forget to have tin
-(•Vr / /forme by to-morrow. Ht 1
took me back into his office, and as 1
«at there he said he would get the money
ready the next day. He then left m* 1
aad went into the front office, where I
heard him send George out to the bank,
to draw a check for two thonsand dol¬
lars ; so I supposed he was going to pay
me then.”
“What does the clerk say about it ?”
“He says Mr. Bryce remarked when
he sent him, that he was going to pay
me. the money.”
“Just so.”
“And when George came in he went
into the front office again and took the
money. Then he came to me again and
did not offer to pay me Hie money.
“Had you fhe note ’vith you ?’
“No, now I r erne tided he ‘-aid he siq
p( H<*;d I bad not told the note him to with me in or the ii
would pay it- I come
next day and I would have it ready -
(hat wax yesterday. When f came t<,
look for the note it could not lie found.
Annie and I have hunted the house all
over. so?”
“Yon told Bryce
“1 did. He laughed and showed me
his note, with his signature crossed through over
with ink and a hole punched
it.”
“It is plain, Mr. Wallace, that he paid
you the money, as alleged, or has ob¬
tained fraudulent possession of the note,
and intends to cheat yon out of the
amount." me,” he replied firmly.
“He never paid fraudulently obtained
“Then he has
-• iirijjsessii iu of the note. What sort of a
pi .fccV i- ?” a.i ciuucAWr who boards
with von
“A* fine young man. Bless you, he
would not do anything would of that kind.”
“I am sure he not,” repeated
Annie, earnestly.
“How else could Bryce obtain the
note but through him ? What time
does he come home at night?"
“Always at tea time. He never goes
out id the evening.”
“But, father, he did not come home
till ten o’clock the night before you
went to Bryce’s. He had to stay in the
office to post books or something of the
kind. ”
“How did he get in?”
“He has a night Chandler,’’said key.”
“I must see I.
“No harm in seeing him,” added Mr,
Wallace, “ I will go for him.”
Iu a few moments he returned with
the young man Chandler, who, in the
conversation I had with him, manifested
a very lively interest in the solution of
the mystery, and professed himself
ready to do anything to forward my
views.
“Wlien did you return to the house
on Thursday night?”
“About twelve.”
“Twelve,” said Annie, “it was not
more than ten when I heard you.”
“The clock struck twelve us I turned
the comer of tho street,” replied Chan¬
dler, positively. heard
“I certainly some one in the
front room at ton,” said Annie, looking
with astonishment at those around her.
.“We’re getting at something,” ?” said L
“How did yon get in
The young man smiled as he glanced
At Annie, and said:
“On arriving night-key. at. the door I found I
had lost my At that mo
meut a watchman happened along and I
told lym my situation. He knew me,
and tailing a ladder from an unfinished
house second opposite placed windows, it against and one of
the story I en
to red in that way.”
"Good. Now, who was it that was
heard in the parlor unless it was Bryce
or one of his accomplices? He must
have taken and tho key from your pocket,
Chandler, stolen the note from the
secretary. At any rate I will charge him
with the crime, let what may happen.
Perlmi>s he will confess- when hard
pushed.’’ this
Acting upon fetter—“demanded thought, I wrote a
lawyer’s against
you,” etc. - which was immediately sent
to Mr. Bryce. Cautioning the parties
uot to speak of the affair, I dismissed
them.
Bryce came.
"Well, sir, what have you to say
against claim me ?” he asked stifily.
“A on the part of John Wallace
for $2,000,” I replied, poking over my
papers and appearing perfectly indif¬
ferent.
“Paid it,” he said, short as pie-emst.
"Have you?" said I, looking him
sharply The rasoal in the quailed. eye.
I saw that he was
a villain.
“Nevertheless, if within an hour for'the yon
do not pay me $2,000, and $100
trouble aud anxiety you have oaused my
client, at the end of the next hour you
will be lodged in jail to answer a crim¬
inal charge. ”
“What do vou mean, air?”
“I mean what I say. Pay, or take
the consequences.”
It was a bold charge, and if he had
looked like an honest man I should not
have dared to moke it
"I have paid the money, I tell you,”
said he; “I have the note iu my posses
siou."
, , >' ol J *»t ... 5■» „„ ?
“ who1 ’ \
“Wheu von feloniously entered 4 „ the
house of John Wallace on Thursday
night at 10 o’clock, and took the said
note from the seoretaftv. ”
"You have no proof,” said he, grasp
j lg {or 8Upl>or t.
"That is my lookout, I have no time
^ Will yon evidence pnv or go to jail ?"
He saw that the I had was
too stroug for his denial, and he drew
his check , on the spot . for . twenty-one
hundred dollars, and after begging me
u*t ®epti<ar the affair, he sneaketl
“ ff *
cashed , „ the check , , and . , hastened
I to
Wallace’s house. The reader may judge
with what satisfaction he received it. and
how rejoiced was Annie and her lover.
Wallace insisted that 1 should take $100
f or trouble; but I was magnanimous
to keep only $20. Wallace signed the
pledge, and was ever after a temperate
man. He died a few years ago, leaving
a handsome property to Chandler and
his wife, the marriage between him and
Annie having taken place shortly aftev
the above narrated circumstances oo
curred.—7 'ruth.
Natch* never sends a great man Into
the planet without soul. confiding the secret
tc another
The Great Streaks in the Moon.
The moon's face, says Mr. Richard A.
Proctor, tells ns of aremote youth—a time
of fiery activity, when volcanic action
even more effective (though not probably taken
energetic} than any which has ever
place on this globe, upbeaved the moon’s
crust. Bnt so soon as we consider care
fnlly the features of her surface we see
that there mnst have been three well
marked eras of v(ilcanian activity. Look
at the multitudinous craters, for ex¬
ample, around the Metropolitan Crater
Tycho. They tell us of century after
century of volcanic disturbance—but
they tell ns no more. They mark a sur¬
face which varies in textnre, and there¬
fore iD light-reflecting power in such
way as to show that tb* variations ‘Were
produced long before the volcanic action
began by which the craters were formed.
For the variations of textnre are su«h as
to mark a series of streaks-some of
them two or three thousand miles m
length, and many miles hi breadth, ex¬
tending radially from Tycho. Craters
lie indifferently on these brighter streaks
aDd on the intervening darker spaces,
aud some craters can be seen which lie
right across a bright streak with parts
of their ring on the darker regions this on
both sides of the streak. Of course,
proves that the craters were formed Jong
after the great streaks.
When the streaked surface was formed,
it must have been tolorahly smooth; for
we see the streak best under a full lllum
iaation, and there is no sign of any dif¬
ference of elevation Itetween them and
the darker ground all wound; long they art;
neither long ridges nor valleys, but
mere surface markings. Yet must they
have been formed by mighty volcanian
disturbance, such, indeed, as w« may be
certain went on at the earlv stage of the
moon’s history, to which these radiating
streaks mnst be referred. It seems
clear that, as Nasmith has illftitrated by
experiment, they belong to that stage of
the moon's plastic history parted when with her stj^l its heat hot
and crust
more rapidly that the nucleus of the
planet, and so, contracting mdre quickly,
was rent by tho resistenoe of the inter¬
nal matter, which, still hot and molten,
flowed into the rents, and spreading
formed the long broad streaks of
brighter surface.
Picking up Broken Cables.
- •
The laying of telegraphic cables is now
so common that the description of the
machinery will for picking up a broken consists ono
be read with interest. It
nf a rope abont an inch and a quarter in
diameter, made from the strongest hemp, The
with interwoven wires of flue steel.
grapnel at the end is merely a solid
shaft of iron some two feet long, and
weighing about 100 pounds, wfiick and pro¬
longed into six blunt hooks, much
resemble tho partly picking closed fingers of cable the
human hand. In up the
in deep water the Minia, after reaching
the waters near the break, lets out her
rope and grapnel, then takes a course at
right angles to the cable and at some
distance from the fracture, so that the
broken ends may not slip through the
grapnel. The grapnel which rope is attached
to a dynamometer, exactly meas¬
ures the strain on the rooe, and shows,
unerringly when the cable has been
caught. If verystftfdettlytoaliigh the grapnel -fejijs a rock the
strain rises rhe point' being
bnt the exact weight Of cable
known, the dynamometer signals by the
steady rate of increase its hold on the
cable far below. A while ago one of the
lines of the Anglo-American trouble Company depth of
was caught without at the a middle
two and a quarter miles near
of the Atlantio. Captain Trott, of tho
Minia, who has won great fame for hi
skill and ingenuity in cable matters, but
recently picked up the French cable 180
miles off St Pierre, and in four hours
from the time the grapnel was let go
liud the cable spliced and in working
condition. The splicing is a work of
great delicacy trained and skill, fingers and the when splioed ac¬
complished scarcely by be distinguished from
part oau of Steel.
the main cord.— Age
The Mormon Question.
“Bill”Nye, the humorist of Laramie,
Wy. T., was recently interviewed rela¬
tive to the Mormon question. “The Mor¬
mons," he says, ' “exert a more potent
influence in the Territory than most
people suppose, and they are spreading
bo rapidly over the Northwestern States
and Territories that before long that en
tire section will be practically under
their control." Mr. Nye thought the
Edmunds law a failure, because the Mor¬
mon women, by whom alone polygamy declare
can be proven, would invariably
upon oath that their offspring were ille¬
gitimate before they would criminate
their husbands. They belonged body
and soul to the Mormon elders, and
were afraid to disobey the edicts of the
church. When asked what would be a
rational solution of the Mormon prob¬
lem, he replied: “To anyone who is famil¬
iar with their customs and resources all
talk of controlling or governing them
sounds absurd. Why, so well drilled
and thoroughly prepared are-thfcy to re¬
sist any interference, that it would be
amusement for them to annihilate the
whole Federal army. There is ' no use
in mincing matters, and the Government
can make up its mind without delay that
the Mormons have come to stay. and They
have almost boundless wealth, their
numbers are iu creasing from immigra¬
tion by the thousands every year. They
are in a position to defy the Government,
and no one can object.”
Western Papers. —In an address read
before the Kansas Editorial Association
the other day Mr. F. G. Adams, has its
Historical Secretary, said that State
more newspapers to the population than
any State east of the Mississippi west river, of
but not as many as some States
that river. For* while Kagasas has a
newspaper to every 3,000 persons, Ne¬
braska has one to every 2,100; Colorado
one to every 1,900; Dakota one to ewery
1,800, and Arizona one to every 1,600.
A Fair Warning.—T he Erie T>is
patch savs-—An esteemed citi«en. who
is sending about fifteen pages of ctigin*!
poetry formed that ever j he day, doesn't is respectfully let in¬ of
n up. one
his pieces, with his full name attached,
will be published. This warning friends. u given
in the interest of his family and
A RUSSIAN GENERAL.
HkabeleflT and HI* Soldiers.
Skobeleff was a perfect puzzle to me,
says his biographer. Is it possibly I
used to ask myself, that in that iron
heart there was no room for fear, dread
and the sadness which seizes everyone
before going into battle ? I once asked
him the question point blank.
“It is difficult to feel at one’s ease,
certainly,” he replied. “Never believe
anyone who tells you the contrary.
But,” he continued, “it is not a time to
eritcise or despair. ought You have said that
men of talent to take care of them¬
selves. It is better to die—and one
would gladly die—if thereby we brought
no shame upon Russia, and held high
the hcuor of our country, It is good to
die for one’s country. Th ere is no better
death.” he
While he spoke was confronted by
a platoon of volunteers, under Lieuten¬
ant Tarashenko. They asked that they
might be the first to assault the Turkish
position. glanced at the figures of these deter¬
I
mined fellows. There was nothing re¬
markable about them. They were sim¬
ply ordinary gray-coated all confident. soldiers, Skobeleff some
smiling naively,
caressed one, talked to another. There
was-no oration, no rhetoric. He chatted
!13 a inan with men.
“Remember, my friends,” he said,
“to day we are not going to take Plevna;
we are only going and to turn the Turks out
of their trenches, to occupy them our¬
selves; but understand, once that you are
in the trenches, you will stop there.”
" We will do our best.”
£ And, look you, remember that it is
not a question of courage, but of obedi¬
ence. Wien your chief says ‘Halt,’ stop
where you are standing, no matter how
you may Ire tempted to pursue the
enemy. As for the Turks, there is no
reason to fear them.”
“We don’t fear them, excellency.” how
“All right. Do you remember
we fought at Loftcha ?”
“We do indeed, excellency,” they an¬
swered without hesitation.
“You remember how we chased them ?”
“They all ran together,” said asoldier,
smiling.
“You were there with me, then,” said
Skobeleff; “you are probably one of the
veterans?”
“I took three redoubts also with your
excellency before Plevna.”
Skobeleff sighed. “Ah, well, my
friends, you see the affair is not difficult;
we have" captured this hill once before.
It has already belonged to us.”
“And we will take itagain, excellency,”
they replied. Skobeleff hold sim¬
And passes on, to a
ilar conversation with every battalion.
Skobeleff came up to us and began talk¬
ing. Sir Henry Havelock was there,
with his curious gutta-percha hat, Mr.
Maogahan and others.
“po you know,” said he, “I am rather
afraid about the young soldiers. It is a
very risky affair. In a night attack,
during fog, even veterans might lose
themselves. I will not remain with the
reserve, as I intended. I must lead them
myself. ”
His Triple Wives.
A inocanon elder who’ had been on a
mission hi Europe, was encountered on
his way westward with three newly affi¬
anced wives. He readily introduced them
to a reporter Emeline was a brawny,
ignorant, hard-handed widow of forty
or over, and her lot was to be that of
drudge in the well-balanced family which
the elder contemplated. She was to
“look after the domestic economy,” as
he expressed it. Sarah was but a neither
handsome nor young woman, some
refinement was discernible, and he said
that she had been a schoolma’am in
Wales. She was for practical use, too,
his plan being to make her a governess
for his children. The third, Lottie, was
a blooming Lancashire lass of twenty or
so, quite pretty in her coarse way, and
the reporter did not deem it necessary
to ask the elder why he had chosen her.
They were evidently in love with each
other, which was not surprising in him,
though marvellous in her, considering
that he was sixty and ugly. She was to
be the queen of the reorganized estab¬
lishment. “Will there lie a triple wed
duig?” was inquired. “Yes,” the elder
repl : ed; “we call the eeremouya sealing
and it is performed in secret. There¬
after I shall hold a more approved posi¬
tion before the Church, for we hold that
polygamy which is not only saint a privilege but also
a duty, no can be entirely
excused fiom fulfilling. There was some
hesitation abont sending me out as mis¬
sionary, because I had taken but one
wife, and I don’t suppose I should have
received tho appointment if I had not
given assurance of my intention to bring
back two or more wives.”
Married In Haste.
“The quickest marriage on record,”
said one old resident of St. Louis, “was
that of Dr. Nick McDougall, who, driv¬
ing along the street in his buggy one
day, saw a beautiful girl standing at the
window. He immediately stopped and
hitched his horse, rang the bell, inquired'
the lady's name, was ushered into the
parlor, announced his own name, said
he ‘was pleased with her appearance,
and wished to marry her at once.
Nothing but the knowledge that celebrated she was
actually in the presence of the
physician kept her from fainting. To
her plea of 1 surprise at this unexpected
announcement,’ he only replied ‘Now or
neve*. ’ When she asked to ’take a week
to consider,’ he said, ‘I am going down
street to attend a critical case and have
time to spare right now. ’
no
: ‘Give me a day, then.’
: *I ! ii tell you what I’ll do. When I
am through with this professional visit
III drive round and get a preacher. If
rou’re made up your mind to marry me
by that time, all'right!’ and articulate he left her
breathless and unable to an¬
other word When he returned they
quietly married. ‘ No cards.’ ”
were
A Diskasb.—D r. Felix Oswald says
that the dvspeptic who intends to be
culbd has t fc> mate up his B^iud that re¬
covery cannot be hoped for until he has
not only discontinued drugs, but ex¬
piated "the burden of sin which the
stimulant outrage has added to the cause
of the disease.
John Hopkins’s Start in Life.
A writer in The Baltimore American
contradicts the oft-quoted story that the
late John Hopkins first entered that city and
a friendless and penniless youth,
the following story of philanthro¬ Mr. Hop¬
kins’s life, given him by that
pist himself a short time before his
death. “When I was a boy, ” said Mr.
Hopkins, “my uncle Gerard T. Hop¬
kins', often came to South River I to visit
my parents, and noticing that was an
active boy on the farm, asked my
mother to let me go to Baltimore to live
with him, and said that he would bring
me up a merchant.
“At the age of seventeen I came,
stayed in my uncle’s store, who was a
wholesale grocer and commission mer¬
chant, and lived in his family. He was
an eminent minister in the Society of
Friends, and when I was nineteen he
was appointed to go out to Ohio to the
first yearly meeting, to be held at Mt.
Pleasant. My aunt accompanied him
with three others. They all traveled on
horseback, a great part of the way through
a wilderness with no other roads but
Indian paths.
■ “But they returned after an absence
of several months in safety. Previous to
leaving, my uncle arranged his business
affairs and calling me to him said: ‘ As
thee has been faithful to my interests
since thee hes been with me, I am going
to leave everything in thy hands. Here
are cfiecks which I have signed my
name to, there are upward of five hun¬
dred of them. Thee will deposit the
money as it is received, and as thee
wants money thee will fill up the. checks
which I leave with thee. Buy the goods
and do the best thee can.
“I felt my responsibility to be very
great But on his return, on looking
over his affairs, he was surprised to find
I had done much better than he had ex¬
pected. I had increased his business
considerably, and it is with pride and
pleasure I look back to that time and to
the great confidence Uncle Gerard re¬
posed in me. I lived with my ancle un¬
til I was twenty-four years of age, and
one day he took me aside and asked me
if % I would like to go into business for
myself. answered: ‘Yes—but uncle, I have
“I
no capital. I have only $800 which I
have saved up. ’
“He said: ‘That will make no differ¬
ence, I will indorse for thee, and this will
give thee make good credit, capital; and thee in a short has been time
thee will a
faithful to my interests, and I will start
the in business.’
“So I took a warehouse near his, and
with his indorsements and assistance,
the first year I sold $200,000 worth of
goods, and soon made the capital which
my uncle said I would make. I suc¬
ceeded in business and realized largely,
aud often think of my early days and
like to talk of them and Uncle Gerard’s
kindness to me.”
Slavery In Bolivia.
INDIANS OPENLY SOLD INTO SERVITUDE
FOR BRAZILIAN GOLD.
A letter from the Isthmus of Panama
says:—Great lawlessness prevails in the
Beni, although there isaprefect and other
authorities in the department who are
appointed by the Bolivian government,
and the Indians are openly captured and
forced to work or sold into slavery in
other districts. A correspondent writing
from Beni says:—
“The manner in which the Indians are
disappearing from the department is
truly terrifying. It is heart-breaking to
hear the aocounts given by traders and
travelers. The scandalous sale and traf¬
fic in these unfortunates continue and
will always continue, and there is no hu¬
man power to correct this terrible abuse.
All the decrees and efforts of the author¬
ities are powerless before Brazilian gold,
which can and be easily obtained in return
for men woman who are stolen from
their families.”
These Indians when not employed in
the immediate vicinity, are sold off in
droves to work on the plantations in the
heart of Brazil. It is a fact that regular
slaving explored expeditions tributaries visit many of the and un¬
of the Amazon,
that cruelties as horrible as were ever per¬
petrated during the days of the African
slave trade are of common occurrence in
the inland waters of the South American
continent.
The rubber fields of the Beni, are ra¬
pidly being destroyed, and it is antici¬
pated that very shortly there will be no
more trees to the chop Bolivian down.
Campero, President, has
punished Senor Iraizos, editor of La
Patria, for having written several arti¬
cles on behalf of peace. The mode of
punishment the others was worthy have of singnalized Melgarejo
Daza or who
themselves by their brutality.
Senor Iraizos was seized by the police,
his ears were bowed and he was then
dressed in a suit of coarse cloth woven
by the Indians for their use.
now to Prevent Seasickness.
Seasickness is the result, says Mr.
Stevens in Scribner, little of reflex irritations
arising from shocks surprises to the
muscles, and to the nerves en¬
gaged in performing certain important
functions—notably of locomotion, res¬
piration and vision—aud when the
groups of muscles thus engaged are once
educated to the surrounding circum¬
stances, the nervous revulsions are not
experienced. exercise Proper attention to the
of these functions may so far
mitigate the trouble as to make it rather
an inconvenience than a distressing ill¬
ness. Let it be distinctly understood
that medicines can only prevent seasick¬
ness by inducing such nervous insensibility,
and that a stupefying process is
directly opposed to the object of the
voyage when this is undertaken for the
promotion of health. Every article of
liet likely should to disturb the digestive or¬
gans be avoided, and an abund¬
ant supply should of oxygen should be inhaled.
The feet be educated, the respira¬
tion regulated and the vision restricted.
If close attention is given to these di¬
rections, little fear of serious sickness
need be apprehended ; and a voyage
which might otherwise tie remembered
with the most disagreeable associations
may be rendered a season of almost un¬
interrupted enjoyment.
PRESERYINK THE IRON.
Wbat Paint Best Protects It aud Hotv to Put
it on SoccewtHily.
Among the things that require the |
most protective paint for iron are agricul¬ car¬
riages, farm wagons, plows, and dt
tural implements, from which fact -V,
seems feasible that mannfacturers of the
like ought to be able to give the best in¬
formation required. Any mineral paint
would answer the purpose much better,
and I maintain that the paint that most
effectually protects iron is red lead. Not
in color is it as well suited ; but that is
only a secondary consideration, and
easily overcome by pain ting it over with
any color desired. It contains the fol¬
lowing advantages for the preservation
of the iron, which is the main object to
be gained : linseed oil,
1. Dries easily with raw
without any oil-destroying drying, drier. elastic,
2. After it remains
giving way both to the extension and
contraction of the iron, without causing
the paint to crack.
3. It imparts no oxygen to iron, even
when constantly exposed to damp—a
fact to which all farm wagon makers can
testify. hardens, been
4. It where it has
spread thickly, without shriveling, form¬
ing the toughest and most perfect in¬
soluble combination of all parts. As
proof of this assertion, it is used by
calico printers for red figure prints,
holding out against soap and water ; by
gas pipe fitters, as the lrest paint English t@ re¬
sist ammonia and tar ; by the
iron ship builders, for painting the hulls
of iron ships, namely, two coats of red
lead and two of zinc white ; by wagon
and plow makers, for painting wagon
gears and plows ; by knowing carpenters, in
for painting brick wood that walls, comes it contact
with damp in as preserves
wood from rot, insects, etc.
For those among U3 who are unin
structed how to mix pure red lead for
paint, it should be made known that
pure red lead powder, after being slightly
pressed down with the finger, shows no
lead crystals. When they are visible,
it is merely partly should converted, ground and not in
first quality. linseed It oil, be possible used
pure, old and if
up the same day, to prevent it combin¬
ing with the oil before it is applied, losing
in quality. No drier is necessary, as in
the course of a few days the oil forms a
perfect, hard combination with the lead.
American linseed oil is as good as any
imported, where the manufacturer has
given it age, and not subjected it to
heat, as is the custom, by steaming it in
a cistern to qualify it quickly for the
market. It deteriorates in quality when
heated above one hundred and sixty de¬
grees F. This red lead paint spicads
very easily over a surface, and the best {
of finish can he made with it, even by a
novice in painting.— Carriage Monthly.
5
A HOUSE OF MOURNING.
What a Visiting Editor has to say of a Den*
ver Millionaire.
I suppose a letter from Colorado would
not be complete without something
about Senator Tabor, says Peck, of the
Milwaukee Sun, but there is nothing
new that occurs to me. I have net seen
Tabor, though he called at my h otel and
that left bts he cardr is living in xhy - 'at)sehce. quietly *T at iearn the j I
very 1
Windsor Hotel, with his Oshkosh wife 1
and some of her relatives, who are in
mourning for the loss of three members J
of the family within a year. Tabor has I
enemies here who do not respect the I
period of mourning, but oontinue to 1
talk in a most disrespectful manner of 1 I
the little woman who wears orapo a few 1
blocks from them, and wh se eyes are
red from weeping over the graves of a 1 \
loving father and two manly brothers.
The wife of the man, and who has
adorned Denver with some of its most
substantial buildings, and who is said to
be as beautiful as any picture loving ever
painted, and whose heart is most
and tender, has not the respect of her
sex at her Denver home, and the wealth
that is counted by millions, cannot give
her entrance to the society of this proud
little city of plains. I do not know as
she cares a continental about the state
of things, though it would be strange if
she did not. It is possible that she so
loves the Italian-looking Croesus, who is
her husband, that the little world of
their own is dearer to her than all of the
world outside. It is possible, I say, that
the sound of his footstep is dearer to
her than all else, and that she had rather
hear his voice say to her, “Darling, I
love you,” than to have all the society
of Denver and the continent fall at her
feet and worship at her shrine. There
is a p'jssibility that his sunburnt hand
brushing the golden hair her away hair from
her white forehead—if is
golden—is to her a sweet peace that all
the society of the world cannot give to
her, and that she had rather have him
look into her eyes, and* read the love
that is as plain as though printed in let¬
ters as large as a circus poster, than to
see the carriages of all of Denver's so¬
ciety ladies waiting at the door of her
hotel. I don’t know anything aliout it.
People say she married him for his
wealth, and he married her for her
beauty, and no questions asked on either
side. If such was the case, both got
what they were after, aud it is nobody’s
business but their own. The deed is
done, and they are the ones to be
suited.
Why he had the Victoria Cross.
Maebean, one of the officers, found
himself in the breach at Lucknow, al¬
most alone and surrounded by enemies.
He killed eleven of them, and came off
unscathed.
He received the Victoria Cross at a
parade; and, as the General pinned the
cross on his breast, he wound up his
brief address with:
“And a good day’s work it was, sir.”
“Tutts,” said our gallant and simple
friend, quite forgetti’ g that he was on
parade, and perhaps a little piqued at
his performance being spoken of, ae a
day’s work. “Tutts, it didna tak’ me
twenty minute*.”
A Si3teb’s Devotion-.— A sister of Sir
J. Franklin died in England recently,
ejed of her ninety-seven. means on expeditions She had in spent search most
him. of