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SCHLEY COUNTY ENTERPRISE. A. J. HARP, Publisher. Winter Days. ; Our birds have flown: Tbeir barren neste are left alone, Clinging to leafless bush or wind-topped tree, Mementoes mute of Springtime’s blue and green, Of fragrant orchards blossoming between Brown, sun-warmed walls, Of wide swifhg doors and breezy halls, And flower-beds decked for the drowsy bee. But now, alas I The blighting frost Is on the grass. Tern are the wither’d leaves from each loved tree; The brooks are still, the woodlands dim and cold, And harvest fields have yielded all their gold. O, swift-winged bird! To that bright land where now is heard Thy tuneful lay, I’d gladly follow thee. IN THE ALTMAEKT. * BY MART N. PRESCOTT. Violet had lost both her situation and her lover when Mrs. Van Buren called. “I’ve just had a letter from my old friend Frau Schilling in Dresden,” she said. “She wants me to find her a com¬ panion in America who can sing a little. Gould anything be more fortunate? I propose to send you, Violet.” “You are very kind to think of me. But in order to go, I shall be obliged to use all the money I have put aside for a rainy day.” “But it is not exactly fair weather now, is it? Besides, it will be capital well in¬ vested. You will see thc world, you will learn German, and you will forget Mr. Dabney, and perhaps marry a Ger¬ man baron.” “I don’t want to marry a German bar¬ on, Imt I think 1 will go, thank you.” And the next outward-bound German steamer carried her to Hamburg. Not knowing a syllable of the German tongue, she engaged a young German woman who was returning home to travel with her to Drtsden, where Frau Schilling met her. iilic found her situation no sinecure, to be sure. Frau Schilling’s English was so broken as to be almost beyond repair. Once or twice Violet went out with her *o afternoon tea, where she sat like a :st ituc, trying with all her might to grasp tho thread of conversation in vain; the loneliness of a stranger in a foreign land, unable to speak the language, possessed In r. It, sometimes seemed to her that she should die unless she could find some- body to whom she could rehearse her I lougbts and trials in good terse English. Frau Schilling lived in the eastern part of the city, in a street leading out of Durer- stnis.se. Although it was remote from the central market-places and the shops, and from almost everything, it made up for this inconvenience in being cheap, hut Frau Schilling convinced everybody that she lived there for the pure air and the view. Of course the tramway ran near, on its way to Blasewiltz, but Frau F 'holing and her companion always walked when they went out—it was so •nuch healthier. Violet had been to the Royal Gallery and the Altmarkt but once, in the convoy of Frau Schilling, when one afternoon, after she had been a fort¬ night in the city, it occurred to her to walk out alone, and make acquaintance with the place. It was quite late in the day, however, before she got started, and the sky was already a deep saffron-color in the west. She remembered that Frau Schilling had conducted her down Du- rerstrasse, past Holbeinplatz, through the narrow little Zeigelstrassc, pausing to look at the old Saxon monument at the corner of the Botanical Garden, where Death, with his hour-glass, stands like a shadow behind the warrior. The stream of passers scarcely observed her as she loitered upon the Terrace of Bruhl, and ’topped to count the spires in the Neus- taxlt; u band was playing in the Belvedere some homesick strain that persued her as she went on toward the gilded groups of stituary that adorn the flight of steps giving upon the Schlossplatz. The sunset light was upon everything; a steamer was towing a fleet of barges up the river; the hills across the Elbe looked b!u« and enchanting in the distance; but h ail made her feel more alone and bereft. It was a fair, a great world; but what did it signify to her now that John Dab¬ ney had forgotten her? She crossed thc Tlatz and went slowly up Schlosstrasse and into the Altmarkt; it was the longest w ay round, but it was the only way she knew. She ventured into one or two shops, and struggled to make herself un- derstood, vainly; she stopped with the crowd to gaze in at the windows of a print-shop at some effort of the modern masters, and wondered if it was wrong to think them quite as satisfactory as some of the masterpieces Frau Schilling had pointed out tp her in the Royal Gallery; the Altmarkt was thronged with people; carriages hastened, who knows where; every one seemed gay and cheerful; she wished with all her heart that she knew a few of these pretty women, these kind¬ ly matrons; she longed to hear somebody speak her name over her shoulder, to happen suddenly upon some familiar face. Gnce she passed two people talking Eng¬ lish, and she turned back and made be- ' ' f ' ve an interest in the embroideries in a neighboring window that she might lis¬ ten to the delicious sounds. ‘‘1 was so surprised to see him,” the lady was saying. “He said he had come to Dresden on important business; I can’t think what it is,” ‘Terhaps he will tell you,” laughed her companion. “Oh, no; nothing of the kind: he was never sweet upon me; we are first cous¬ ins." “And cousins are dangerous things. When did he leave New Yerk?” New York I Violet's heart bounded; here was somebody straight from home. Perhaps she knew him. At any rate, lie must know John Dabney ; and she found herself wondering what this stranger’s “important business” might be; but at the thought of John her “old sorrow waked and cried." It was such a mere trifle that had separated them, “the little rift within the lute.” IIow foolish it had all been, and yet how irrevocable! IIow sorely she missed his kindness, his pres¬ ence, the right to tliink of him as belong¬ ing to her 1 how bleak and barren the world seemed without him! Life was ended for her; that is, all that made life worth living had left her; nothing sig¬ nified after that; she could think of noth¬ ing that she could substitute for his love; nothing in all the world could make amends to her for all she had squandered, and she had a doubt if heaven would be heaven without him. In the distraction of her thoughts she had walked on till she was tired, and now she turned back into the Altmarkt. IIow the scene had Changed 1 the people, the shops, the car- riages, were still there, to be sure, and the figure of Germania in the centre of the square still seemed to soar into the violet heavens. It was all another world by gaslight; such necromancy had been wrought that Violet could not tell which direction to take toward home; so many cross lights puzzled and blinded her. Everybody was hastening homeward; everybody had some one waiting and watching for his approach, some one thinking of him. Only she was forlorn and alone and desolate. She forgot that “No wind could drive her bark astray. Or change the tide of destiny.” Of course it would be impossible for Violet to lose herself to-day in Dresden; she laughs at the idea; but at that time it was quite a different story, The Alt- markt, as everybody knows, is a square shut in with shops, with two streets leading out of it from each of its four corners, so to speak. In a frenzy of fear Violet choose one of these streets; if it were the Schlosstrasse through which she had come to the Altmarkt, she knew it would presently bring her in view of the thoroughfare leading into the Schloss. platz, where the gilded groups on thc stairway of Bruhl’s Terrace would show her that she was all right for home. That was the only route she knew, but after walking some distance, the street ended against a dark and forbidding building; then she retracted her weary steps and hurried in the opposite direc¬ tion, into Wildrufferstrasse, and as this opens upon the Portplatz, she soon saw that she was wrong again; always she re¬ turned to the Altmarkt, feeling that this was her only guide and safety, as the street which had brought her there must still lead out of it, unless some enchant¬ ment has been at work. In her haste and excitement she ex¬ plored one street after another without hitting upon the right one, and, in fact, following several of them more than once before recognizing her mistake. If it had been daylight, she felt that all would be well, the adventure would have been delightful; but here,with the clocks strik- ing eight in the darkness, made more per- plexing by the numberless lights, without a German word in her vocabulary, it was anything but comfortable. Desperate at length, l when the Schlosstrasse really scemed to . vanish i out . of t existence, she ac- costed . and , asked , her x___ • a woman way , in English. 0 The woman smiled, , and , shook * . , her head. . , It of , asking , . the was no use „ . nobody . , understood • . 11 her. She was way: J hungry f and cold and . faint. .. . . T It . seemed v. to _ her that she had been hunting for the Schlosstrasse , for , , hours, and might con- tinue in • that . occupation ,• all „• night v,* if no one came to t her aid. i rri There «« was the droschkas, , ,, to , , be sure, drawn , up -i in long lines, . waiting ! . for , passengers who . nevei ’ ‘ seemed to . the drivers . wrapped - m • arrive, smoking , . sleeping , ■ their . ,, blankets, , or con- „„ tentedly; ,, .. but she . dared , , not , take , . one, if she could have made , thc ,, driver ... „ even understand , , where , she , wished • , , ____ to go. At that tr -e she did not know that a Dres- den droschka , ... is as safe , as one’s , roof-tree. c At last she , paused . • , her mud , and .... i dis- j- in pairing hutc , to , beg , he , p o(. e „ ,, m „ith hi. wife upon bin arm. The, .«■ swered her in broad German, and she rc- plied 1 in effusive „ . English. ,, It seemed j , to her that the woman began , to , regard . her with suspicion, to question .. if ■( she . were a 0 beggar, or what. The man opened his purse. Violet shook her head, and the tears s P^ J my way, e 1 i8ted « If i could fi Ild the Terrace, I should be all right. I know the way well from there.” While she spoke, somebody else stopped and listened, arrested by her voice. “Violet 1 Violet!” somebody said, dose at her elbow; and Violet answered: “Oh, John! John! is it you? “Yes, it is I. I found I couldn’t live without you.” And Violet was in his arms, safe and happy and the German gentleman and his wife smiled at each other and at Violet, who no longer saw an vbody in the crowded square but John Dabney.-—Harper'* JJamir, ELLAVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY. MARCH 25, 1886. THE ZOUAVES’ GOAT. And How He Overthrew the Commanding Officer. A Remarkable Quadruped that Lacked Respect for Rank. “I never see a goat,” remarked Col. Fred Martin of the Brooklyn elevated the other day, “but l am reminded of abeau- tiful animal once owned by Hilly Wilson’s j Zouaves. I can’t truthfully assert that Billy owned the goat; he didn’t; it be¬ longed to the regiment, but as Hilly owned the regiment it’s pretty much the same thing. That goat was r joy forever, and his peculiar talents were largely en¬ hanced by the disinterested efforts of his numerous friends in Billy Wilson’s com¬ mand. “I made the acquaintance while cam¬ paigning along the northern Gulf shore. Billy’s crowd were penned up as a garri¬ son in Fort Pickens, and the robs held all the Florida coast, so that the butter- nu ^ gunners at Fort Barrancas used to ‘ themselves plumping shells into amuse the sand heap on which Pickens stood. Santa Rosa Island’s its name, areal pret- ^y name for a horrible locality. About the onl y tbin S those shHls accomplished bosides keeping the hands of the gunners in was t0 s P oil tho P arade K round - Ever y t,me one exploded it would blow out a hole bi g enou S b hide fourcow8 ,n - and this J ust worrit>d Gcn - Isra,>1 Vo ^ lez > who was commandant there, until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and he set W 8 mcn t0 work with shovels filling »P the hok ' s ’ and - as there was a fresh cr0 P ewr y da y> Bili y’ s mcn got pretty tire<L Thc y weren ’t fond of work ’ ftn y wa y- You sw; - about 500 of them bad d ' ed or bcen killed off before they struck Pickens, but those left were game chick¬ ens, and didn’t take kindly to shovelling. “It was hot on Santa Rosa— just the place for Billy’s men to get acclimated in. Vogdez was the best read man in the army, and he didn’t take kindly to the boys’ social ways, and he took pains, with the able assistance of the Confeder¬ ate gunners, to keep down their exuberant spirits. One day, when a gang of ’em were toying with a sand pit, and filling it at the rate of about one shovelful in two hours, the general rushes out from his casement, hauls the lazy detachment up in line, and goes for them baldheaded. He wasn’t more’n five feet tall, Israel wasn’t, but as he was most as thick and as wide, he made up for it. Standing on the edge of the crater, in a costume that was mostly trousers, he lectured, stoop¬ ing lower with every point laid down. “As it was, he made a lovely target, and that cussed goat who was loafing in the parade got on to the range, and all of a sudden, after many skips, jerks, and prances, he let himself off, and hit the General like a 15-inch round shot, piling him head first into the hole. “It was an awful moment for Billy’s men. There's a time to laugh, the Scrip¬ ture says, and Billy’s men thought it was there, but they didn’t dare grasp the op¬ portunity, and they feared for the goat whom they loved. Vogdez was awful mad. He made Billy promise to have the goat massacred, and Billy gave the order, but it was never executed .—New York Sun. A „ nnted Hunler> * . °. f a,lthe natlve than blrds > . D Elorlda ., ” one interesting the Heron tribes, The king of all these tribes is the g^rat Bluc « er0D ’. ^ grows to an extraordinary 8,z '*’ Ca P taln Dumm,tt ’ who P lanted the most noted orange grove m the State, killed one on a bayou near Mosquito 1 La- - htteen which , . . measured , goon years ago nine feet seven inches , from the .. point ’ . A of . its bill to the tips oi its toes. The coast- . bayous and lagoons usually dot¬ wise J are J ted with small .. islands. . , , T In mangrove South Florida the mangrove grows to a height of sixty and eighty ' feet, but north of Cape Canaveral , it . . gnarled , bush , ‘ is a from ten to nftx^»n feet . , high. , . The . bushes . ^ cover the little islands as luir covers a man’s scalp. 1 the islands are veritable ... thickets, and woe betide the man who , is . lost in them, ’ for . ., they are infested ....... with ‘ sand flies, red bugs, mosquitoes . mid ’ scor- . Creeks, , ’. intense . crookedness , pions. 1 ’ in and of uneven tide, ’ wind among * these islands like the paths of a labyrinth, . , ‘ These solitary J creeks are the favorite hsh- . grounds of the great blue heron. ing * s Some of the happiest days , of . my ... life h „» been .pent p in hMiUng ^ Ihe bird in ^ „„ w , Canadian canoe, ’ with my gun ” on my knees _ and guide , the stem, T I a in was noiselessly poled , the winding . .. creeks . J > over e> beneath the arching mangroves, At sharp turns there was frequently a scream of affright. Huge wings were unfolded. The great bird wafted itself into the air and was brought to earth by a shot well aimed. It is dangerous sport, however, for a stranger. Even the best of guides are sometimes lost in the green labyrinth and suffer untold tortures. Unpracticed hunters are apt to lose their eyes; for the beak of the great Blue Heron is as sharp as a need [ Cj HtK ] his long neck masks im- mcnse sweep and great power. The bird strikes with marvelous precision and with the rapidity of lightning. When wound ed jt i s especially dangerous. I was once struck on the cheek within half an inch of the eye. The blow was made by a crippled snowy heron on an island in Lake Worth. It was just after twilight. The darkness saved my eye. J was in a thicket looking for birds that 1 had shot while on the wing. I saw a snowy spot in the (indistinguishable foliage,ami took it for a dead bird. As I stooped to pick it up my cheek was pierced as though re¬ ceiving a thrust from a stiletto. This ad¬ venture made me extremely cautious while hunting herons, and finally led to a laughable scene. In the spring of 1875 I was encamped . the , heart of Turnbull Swamp, about . . in . ^ ‘l . f tl 1 > d f Indian River. The weather was very dry, and it t wi mu u l.sao in tho Kwunn P 1 than usual. I was hunting paroquets wild wild turkeys, turkevs wood wood ducks ducks, deer detr, bears nears, wild-cats and pumas. The swamp is str . aked . , wit * t i, i .av „ hundred y v arris ‘ wide and miles in extent. Deer becom- iiur n scarce in mv ^ vicinity I set a savanna on fire one morning while on a turkey i hunt. After the burning of the dead grass the , new crop would ,, serve to . , bait meoeerwHuiB the deer within a a fortnight iuruugui. ai At sunset t I was miles away from camp. At dusk I saw several gobblers fly into a grove of tall cypresses, and marked them, with the intention of returning in the morn¬ ing at daylight and shooting them from the trees. The reddened sky gave me bearings on my way hack to camp. After wading for ten minutes through mud and water, listening to the doleful music of a death owl, I emerged upon thc burning savanna. The sky was overcast. It was as dark as Erebus. A brisk south wind was driving thc fire northward. The flames were leaping over the tall, dry grass, and tinging the clouds and the tops of the cypresses an orange hue. Suddenly I saw in the lurid light far above me four great Blue Herons. They were in line, flapping their wings with the precision of machinery. Instinctively I drew my gun to my shoulder. On in¬ spiration I discharged it, for the “sight” was invisible. The second barrel did good work. The third heron in the line stopped, fell ten feet, and eame swooping toward the ground in great circles. I saw that the bird would drop some distance away, rod ran forward to mark the spot. But the burnt part of the savanna, despite the lurid light from the rolling wave of fire in the south, was as black as the bellying darkness of the clouds. I heard the bird strike the earth with a thud, but did not see where it fell. The black ashes of the burnt grass were ankle deep. I searched for the prize, but did not find it. I was perplexed. Suddenly a feathery form arose from the ashes ten feet away. It seemed to hover above me. It was the heron. It had elevated the white plume on its head as an angry cockatoo draws forward its topknot. The plume alone could be distinctly seen in the darkness. With a blood-curdling scream the tall bird darted for me. I knew the danger. On the spur of the moment I turned and ran toward the blazing savanna. The bird gave chase, screaming frightfully at every jump. I divined the situation. Its wing was broken, and it was thoroughly infuriated. If it struck me in the rear with its sharp and powerful beak I fan- i cied that its head would go through me. • Iu my haste to secure my prey I had ne¬ glected to withdraw the empty shells from the fowling-piece. It would not do to stand the chance of a fight by the gun as a club, for it was so dark that I could not gunge the bird’s distance. Besides the bird would be facing the light, and I would be facing the darkness. I continued my retreat; I ran as though the evil one was after me. In my flight I threw open the barrels of my gun, and drew out the empty shells. In mad haste I reloaded and rolockod the barrels, still running at the top of my speed. Then I stopped, wheeled about and banged away with both barrels. The bird shrieked worse than ever and was untouched. Again I sped toward the burning grass. I had regained my composure, however. Fear gave way to mirth. I laughed out¬ right at the absurdity of the situation, blessing my stars that no friends were near to chaff me. Again 1 reloaded the gun, turned and filed. I was on the veige „t ft, bl«i„™ah,„l.f.irvk, of my ]>ursu( r. At tho second shot the heron fell, and the impetus from its speed was so great that it came against me,legs, wings, neck and beak, hi a limp lump. I had shot it through the neck. Its head was attached by the skin of the neck alone. I carried thc prize to camp. Its plumage was the perfection of feathery beauty. Old Conner, my guide, was awaiting my return with a supper of roasted venison and yams. The bird was so tall that Con¬ ner fastened its beak to the back of my coat-collar, drew the neck over my head, and the feet touched the ground. He after¬ ward severed the head from the neck, and hurled it across the fire at the trunk of the palmetto—I have seen performers at a circus handle a knife in a similar way— the sharp beak entered the tree,and stood quivering there like a heavy-handled bodkin; and for all that I know it re¬ mains there to this day .—Amos J. Cum mings in thc Cook. Edison claims that in the new phono¬ graph upon which he is now at work, the sound will be amplified four times loudej than the human voice. CHANGE THEIR COLOR Wonders of Animal Life in California. Bats that Live in Trees and Lizards that Drop their Tails. ! It is often said of California that things arc reversed here, says a letter to the New York Timet. This is true as to cli- mate, and might be applied to the habits . an,mata . of the squirrels . , ° » 88 some live in the ground and rats in the frees. The ^ __„ r ° un< v squirrels * , particularly .. , . noticea- x . are ble on the mesa land, and in the canon i thc , nert8 of , th , »*• « gtep The , t are on thp „ d in th , forra -______ of ., hillocks , or mounds , three ., or four feet high, and made up of twigs and * .. , ks ob8 . and , . rorn( articles .. . ' varl0U8 ’ > stolen by the wood rats, which are noto- " OUS tlneve8 - Other nests are built at the . liases of trees and about them, the ? 1HSS ° f , matem . bein? 8eCUr<ly ,,olin<i S0 together that it is difficult to tear them apart. . _, The nests . thc trees resemble in the squirrel nests seen in Central Park in he , Autumn, , though . , they , were not more than 10 feet from thc ground. A similar n.(t , • found , , here • is , by rich . , steel-gray a squirrel. These graceful creatures were extremely . _ , and , often treed , common, were . by the watchful hound that made occa¬ sional “sorties" into the brush. On one of these incursions a fierce snarl was < d, followed , „ , by , a deep , . baying and , m«dc telling of to*, gnmn, and by tin time we reached the spot beyond some live oaks, a big wild cat was seen climbing up the sides of , an alder. ,, A . bullet brought h her down for thc dog, and being only , wounded, the fur flew „ fora , few minutes, the hound soon sileneimr , hei, getting . well .. scratched , , the melee, in but apparently *' satisfied with her ’ share in the ., sport. In T climbing over the rocks , numbers of lizards and tree toads were found, the latter affording a striking ex- ample A of protective ! . resemblance. Most of , the , boulders , were of , granite, and , pre- sented a mottled surface. Several times , I noticed ... a small ,, toad , , leap seemingly from in front of me, and finally, by J ex- aminuig the ,, rocks , ahead, . . I T saw a small ,, one, and, proceeding carefully, .’ secured it. .. In , color , it fac simile . was a of the boulder, having a streaked white ground dotted j with black, so that the animal , appeared to be a mere projection ' of the stone . upon which ,. . it .. rested. , It was one of the tree toads, and had delicate disks Upon ______ its .. , feet, , which ... enabled , , , . climb , it to up a pane of glass later on. m lo determine , . . the .. limit of the . . variation of color tliis specimen was kept 1 in con- fanement, „ . and , placed , . on successive objects of a different color. The first was a sheet of white paper, and some 1 hours later the animal had turned several shades . , lighter, , the ,, grouud , , color becom- ing lighter, and the black spots k fading b out so that , they . almost invisible, . . were From this it was placed * upon p a black , base, and , , before , long the , black spots grew perceptibly 1 ” darker, and finally seemed to pervade the ,, entire surface, the skin assuming n a dark hue ’ mute * sufficient for protection. . Before . other expun- ments could he tried a horned torn! that was ... being similarly . treated, succeeding in injuring it, so that other specimens * • will , have to . be . obtained, , . . , but . . the , above , serves to to show show that that this this tree tree toad toad could could adnnt adapt ltsclf to a black, white, or spotted rock, and an find find almost almost Derfect perfect nrotection Among the damp leaves a number of Btori. ««. dbtotond, varying from four to twelve inches in length, and were noticeable for their snake-like appear- ance. One specimen had lost its tail, and my companion suggMted that it had thrown it—a faculty possessed by several geckos. frnekrw Tv„. 1 he operation of casting t I i.o,l had observed in another though smaller liz- ard ard a a few ,i„„„ days previous, and i* it is, perhaps, one of thc most remarkable methods of protection found in the ani¬ mal kingdom. The lizard observed by myself was a small road lizard of this country, seemingly taking thc place of the chameleon, though being a strictly ground animal, and very common along the roadsides. Ordinarily it is somewhat difficult to catch them, but this specimen j WHg f ortuni ,te in surprising in open p „, mJ h „ tt „ m|)ti „ e „ itI san< } sharply in its near virini- ^ not> howevcr , touching it. The mo- ment thc blow was given I saw the lizard , make , sudden ,, turn , if ., lashmg , . . a as its tail, and then the latter became de- tached , , , and , hopped , , up and , down, , while , the lizard itself darted awav so quickly ' ‘ that, ., , it .. was almost , impossible . .. . to follow , it; . indeed, the leaping and-squirming tail was quite sufficient to divert the atten- tion. I immediately took out my watch and placed the tail in my hand and it moved vigorously for two minutes, and for some time longer showed sign* of life, The dismembered part was remarkable in its resemblance to a large worm, its mo- tions helping to complete the simile, and it was evident that the pursuer would be l—WJ * a Clinking it . worm, thus giving the wily lizard time to escape. The loss of the tail might be disastrous, were it not replaced by a new one. and sometimes two new ones grow, giving the animal a curious appearance, A living specimen in my possession shows a new tail almost complete. Examina- tion of the tail shows that the vertebrae are joined very oi' closely, and a sharp jerk on the, part the animal is quite suffi¬ cient to cast, it. As soon as the tail is thrown off the stump is elevated as high as possible, probably ground. to keep the wound away from the A STEAMBOAT COLLISION. IN WHICH THK OREGON, OF TUI ' CI’NAKO LINK, GOES DOWN. The I’nNKcngern nn«l Crew to the Nmnber ol 840 souls Tnl»en Oil Safely. The magnificent ocean steamship Oregon^ of the Cunard line, one of the largest and fast est of all the ocean carriers, was logt in col- j lision with a schooner while proceeding under a full end head of Detail steam * of and her when lofis arp near 88 her fo,,OW8 jour- j The Oregon left Liverpool for New York on the morning of Katun lay, March 6. She I j had on board 185 first cabin passengers,sixty , six in the second cabin, and 389 in the steer- age. She had a crew of SOS men. At the ! beginning fresh of the voyage she had to deal with , winds from the north and east. but. fairly Newfoundland fine weather. It became stormy off the brisk banks, with a high swell and southwest winds. While midway between Rhinneeock. Long island, and Fire Island, about 4:90 a. m., on the 14th. and distant about five miles from h ore, the few passenger* on the Oregon’s deck noticed the lights of a vessel armroach ing on tlie northeast tack. The light-i were visible accordingtothesto y .fthepassengers, ten minutes before the collision occurred Captain Cottier was lielow and Chief Officer Matthews was in charge of the bridge. The decks were piled with baggage, which was 1 being taken from the hold in anticipation of the vessel’s entry into port. J No on<> P»i<i '” u< 'h attention tothe ap nroaching vessel, and it was not until the un- 1 known coasting schooner struck the mam- 1 moth steamer on the port side, directly abaft | the foremast, that the passengers were aware 0 f their danger. The shook was tremendous and . with rebound . the schooner a shot back from the iron Rides of | the doomed Cunarder and drifted off into the darkness. Captain Cottier rushed up from below and assumed command of the deck. Realizina; the character of the in juries these were apparently seen by two ocean steamers which passed by without deviating ! from their course. The water poured in through the huge rent in the vessel’s side, putting cloud out the fires and raising a tremendous of steam, so dense and thick that the firemen in the fire- the room deck, dropped where their all tho shovels and rushed to passengers had been summoned, many clad in their sleeping gar- ments. With but few exceptions all behaved admirablv, order and with scarcely anv trouble dressed was quickly restored. The partly their passengers were ordered to put on The clothing, officers, and coffee was served to all. under command of Captain Cottier, proceeded to launch eight lifeboats, which was done with some difficulty, but successfully. The women were first put in the boats, and then the other passengers, first- class and steerage, and last of all the crew Captain Pottier and Dr. Rur- , dan being the last to leave the steamer. The i boats remained in the vicinity of the wrecked vessel until davhreak. when pilot boat No. 11 and the schooner Fanny A. Oor- ham, Captain Mahoney, liound from Jack- sonville to Boston were seen approaching am ' at 8 o’clock the work of transferring to the . the decks passengers and crew of the small vessels was begun. This work lasted until I 11 o’clock. When all had been transferred both vessels bore up for New York, but were | overhauled at noon by the Bremen steam- ship Fulda. Captain Ringk, in-bound, and the passengers were in turn added to already full list of the man board. steamer, making in all over l.ROO souls on As soon as all were safelv re- mormt the Fulda steamed to Sandy Hook. reaching until the bar at 0:35, where she anchored 1 o’clock this morning,when she crossed and came up to quarantine, in New York bay. the Next day the passengers were taken to After city. the collision the Oregon drifted sea- wards and at noon the operators at Fire island, w ho had, at 6 o’clock, noticed the <l>ieer Ijehnvior drafted of fully the vessel, fifteen estimated miles from that the shore. She sank in eighty feet of WH ^ at 1:40 p - »•> a " d «' nightfall e „ it . was noticed . that her foremast had been carried away. WhiU <he main, mizzen and jigger masts were still by -tamling, the and apparently uninjured, she sank head, the liow paisenger? pointing seaward. r '™ e the rescued cioflits or crew save»i anything except the they wore, or nfforded perhaps a handbag. No time was to save anything, and little was afti'r the passengere had come on deck than to get them safely into the boats 1 a ,? d “Tm (,, the ,a ’ sacks n i al * matter, I mgn were trails- , ferred to the Lioats and brought up to quar- autiue b v the FuUia - rbuve w « re no *ocI- (lents ln - double the transfers of the passengers, the sea from the time of the acci- dent up to the arrival of the Fulda at the bar having been as isnooth as a ball-room floor and enabling the work to be done with but whose conduct met with universal praise ^e’o.cgo^^b.Su^r Glasgow, 1883, the Gufon line ai ! in costing (1.950,000. She wnj SSSMTStSS* SZa£T!lS?S. 1884 . was made in six days and ten hours, breaking y, the best record made up to at date. Since then better bine has been made, the Cunarder Etruria hours covering and the forty-four same distance minutes. in six days, flva TTie Etruria’ big 29, record was ma le on a trip ending Augur 1885, and is the fastest. The Presidential Term. \ proposition to have it beqi> ON AFIMI. 30. In the United States Senate on the 15th Mr. Ingalls submitted the following joint resolution: United Whkueas, States The first President of the was not inaugurated until the the Continental Congress for the installation by curtailing Q0W cause public inconvenience in unduly and limiting the second session of every Whekeas. Congress; It and is dredth anniversary fitting of the that the one hun- George Washington the inauguration President of as first of l,l< ‘ 1 sited States be commemorated by the the hauguration of his successor in 18811 upon hereatteror same day and that this should 1* the day ministrations the ot beginning the of successive ad¬ be it government; therefore, Hesoloed. (Pc., That the following article be proposed to the legislatures of the several Gtetcs as an amendment to the Constitution tion namely* XVT Btatos ’ a< l’ art of tlle Constitu- Art. That tl e t r.u of offl e of the President and the . oml session of the Fiftieth Congress shall continue until the HOth d iv oi April, in the year 1889, and the 30th , , SS official term of the successive Presidents and Vice-Presidents and Congresses of the United ^ £$vu!££SSd rfeett^.* 0 First in Science. Davi i E. Hughes, F. K. S., who Ml recently pre.-emed by Queen Victoria witn the royal gold medal as being first in sc*ence iu ihe whole world, was a former resident of Bowling Gieen, Keu- t.uky, and has relatives now reading there. VOL I. NO. 26. CHILDREN’S COLUMN* When I’m • Man. An eager youth with beaming ays* bonded out into the world, Anderied, “My ship’s in harbor yet My banners stifi are furled, But I will do the thing I can When I’m a man I “There are such wrongs to bo redramed, Such rights that need defense, I give my heart to all that's good, My scorn to ah pretense; I’ll work out many a noble-plan When I’m a manl “I have so much to see and do, So much that I may say, When childhood's happy days have gone, With lessons and with play, Then I shall try the best I can To be a men.” —Mary A. Barr. Nmnook. If we did not , , know it .. to . . be so, j* It would wouia be hard to believe that any animal could make its . , home in . the , midst of the olmost almost; perpetual 1 * snow and ice of the far north. And yet * animals . , than are many more generally J supposed to do so live in that intense f cold, and have accommodated themselves to their surroundings. For example, the mosquito has been found as far north as man has ever gone, The white bear deserves attention for thf . raanncr ; n which it has adapted itself to its . strange mode of , life, j t j s no t called an amphibious animal, , but , might . , , probably , . , , be called, ,, , for ,__.. It . so M perfectly at home in the water—-indeed it to- know to pnr.ua „d cptew to nimble a fish as the salmon, The polar bear’s foot is unusually loag and broad even for a bear’s foot, and this peculiarity aids . enabling it . to , . in swim ao rap r idly. But the great foot is of most use m crossing the slippery ice . or crusted , , gn0 w. ' The under part of the foot is covered with . , . long, soft , , fur, which ... ans wers the double / purpose of keeping the foot . spite . of . constant , . warm in con- tact with the cold ice, and of preventing the awkward slipping . which , . , would cer- tainly J occur if the sole of the foot were hard and smooth. As a rule, ’ the white bear avoids man and exerts all its strength .. and cunning in capturing 1 its prey. It prefers some mem- , ber of , the seal family, probably , ,, because , the seals are usually so plump and tender, Apparently J a baby walrus is a choice mor- for it ’ for it never ne£r ^ lects an oppor- tunity of . pouncing on one. in the water, the walrus would be more than a match even for .... the polar bear, its huge tusks and terrible strength making it the most formidable ., of , sea mammfl i,. ’ t.,* on thp ice ’ desnite the fierce with which both . parents courage f,, hght T ht for for their their offsnrimr offspring, the the battle battle is is too too unequal, and the unlucky little walrus, caught napping, usually falls a victim to the big bear. And it frequently happens that one or both of the parent-walruses are killed in the vain attempt to rescue tll DaD , “ r y; Nennook, as the white bear is . called by the Esquimaux, frequently di play „ great cunning in capturing the wary seal, which, , . , feanng , . its .. takes . , its -. enemy, nap on the ice close by the edge, ready to roll lnto . the ,, water at . the , first „ alarm. , The bear slips 1 quietly into the water a long d ' 8ta , ”ce from , the sleeping seal, and then gw mis under water, ’ stopping occasionally OUt A , hlS . . head d ^ . br, athe ,* Unbl A . 1 t0 BUt a “ ‘ > heisinsuchapositionthatthesealcan- not get , into . , the water . without ... . c falling ... into his clutches.— St-. Nicholas. The Seal. We all know that the seal is a mam- mal just as much as a bear or a wolf, and th "‘ “ bm “ h " * h ° “ d ” ™” blooded. Its skull is that of a mammal, not a fish, ’■ and its whole skeleton is, from anatomical , point • , of . an le , with its cousins on the land. Its flip- pers and ,. its tail are but modified hands u ot , j„ an d f ee t,, and in them all the bones of the and as well as the arm and hand, can be plainly seen. It is a step between the whale and the otter, and shows us how surrounding circumstances can change the external structure. In¬ deed, it is one of the chief and important steps in evolution so well marked that there can be no doubt of its significance. However important this may be to man, it is the most unfortunate thing that could happen to the seal. The very fact of its being warm blooded is the cause of its persecution. We need the skins and we need the fat that the poor seals are obliged to have to protect themselves from the cold. If they were cold blooded, like fishes, the temperature of their body could be made to change to suit sur¬ rounding circumstances without incon¬ venience to themselves. But this is not possible to warm blooded animals; they must keep their blood up to a certain temperature, and to do this in the cold regions of the Arctic they have to be clothed in layers of fur and fat, the two best possible heat retainers. Another thing to their disadvantage is that they have to come to the surface to breathe, and have to bring forth their young on the ice or on land. Thus, while their high position in the animal scale serves as a protection against their lower ene¬ mies, it brings them within the reach of that dread foe of all animals, man, who has made such destructive inroads on some creatures, and now threatens this most tender and harmless snimal with the same fate.—Ye«> York Sun.