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XIIE PANAMA CAN All.
KrP orts From Ihe Isthmus.
fee® urnsf*
^l^f^c^woT'olideof "until Monday last, when he
» Led Miguel, Paraiso, Culebra,
lender P^ro Cascades. During _
Xe and Las
referred to, although the com
any c 'aimed to have had nearly sixteen
ttousand men of all ranks in their pay,
little substantial progress has been
nt ordinary observer can
as far as an exception of
inrte it. With the an
si connecting with the
mbaakment Railroad, just outside of this _
, /.; .. ,, a quiet. At. Pedro
a ii seems dull and
el where the American dredges
‘ fcl put by an American corn
rere being up
iany, nothing is being done; two are
eady, but are not being used. Parts for
liree more are exposed alternatively to
ntense beat and moisture—very destruc
ive agents. At Corasal there are some
being . put
lew buildings, and more are
There, as at Emperador and Par
up. valuable plant remains un
housed, including locomotives, boilers,
etc a n’d damage amounting known to to be thou¬
sands of dollars daily is go
in 0Di Time that might be used in
„
building proper sheds is frittered away
iu embellishing banks near houses, set¬
ting out tropical trees and plants to
make the landscape attractive. C est
maanilique mats ce n’est pas le canal.
Just before Mr. Dingier left for
France say 1C, 000 men were at work.
The wet season is now in, and to-day
not more than 7,000 of all ranks are em
ployed. Quite recently owiDg to the
[very sickly season hospital 440 apart of the from 7,000 nearly men
were in the
1G0 under treatment at home. T his tells
I its own story about this deadly climate.
The laborers now are nearly all Jamai
leans. At Gorgoma, a canal camp, be¬
I I tween Saturday last and Monday noon
three canal chiefs had died. We hear of
I I the deaths of chiefs—as for the men,
they die on the line and are buried, and
no attention is paid to the matter. Two
1 American carpenters are in an unnamed
grave near Emperador. The death rate
a few months ago, from a careful estim¬
ate, was 109 and a decimal, nearly 110,
per 1,000 for all ranks. Yellow fever
kills the whites, malaria, the natives and
negroes. Many an able-bodied, well
built negro is cut off in from 24 to 36
hours after his seizure. Many are placed
in the ambulance cars of the canal com¬
pany and die en route. None but those
living here and familiar with such pain¬
ful sights can form any idea of this
country.
To rdturn to the appearance of canal
works. Lack of spirit and lack of en
ergy were everywhere observable.
Heavy rains interfered greatly with
work. Earthworks are swept away by
the tropical downpour. A few hours
rain caused a small stream to raise in
such a manner that a railway bridsre
was swept away, stepping canal work
there. One may safely say that during
the long rainy season, from May to the
middle ol December, fully half the time
originally calculated on by De Lesseps
is lost, owing to the rains, small floods,
and the stubborn fact that, while the
company claimed to have 16,000 in their
employ at the close of the dry season,
only 7,000 are working. Some contract¬
ors are losing money, and a great deal
of it. One firm of Americans threw up
tkeirdredging contract rather than lose
men and money.
The statement of the great French¬
man that he will be here to open the
canal in 1886 excited great merriment,
and was flatly contradicted by the Star
and Herald cf this city. This paper
ridicules the idea saying “that we who
live here know how little is being done.”
Chaos, confusion and bad managameni
are said to be observable in all depart¬
ments. Only one-thirtieth of the actual
work is complete. A day of reckoning
is coming, when the Paris directors will
haw, to face the unfortunate sharehold
era.
traveling in England.
Traveling third-class on all the
ntisa railways has become so popular
111 recent ti mes, as a result of improve
raeutin the accommodations, that the
various companies are now largely in
ebted to this class of passengers for
their revenue and dividends. The re
j* rns * or six months ended June 30,
show that during that period there
vrcre 15,234,187 first-class passengers,
21,017,040 second-class, and 235,234,525
third-class, or more than 600 per cent,
m excess of fi ra t and second-class
sengers combined. pas¬
The receipts during
the same period were : For first-class
passengers, £1,609,666; second-class,
£1,337,035, and for third-class £7,120,-
497. the latter thus producing upward
of 140 par cent, more than the
gate receipts aggre¬
from first and second-class
passengers. These results apply iu
mo-e or less proportion to the whole of
th- iaes at present open for traffic.
What to Take.—T he Journal of
Inebriety gives the results of Dr.
* apier object s inquiry into the nature of diet,
me of which was to solve the
Question of how far certain foods en¬
couraged or prevented the craving for
muuk. He concluded that maccaroni,
,
peans, dried peas and lentils antagonize
® * marked degree the desire for aleo
bo In the treatment of alcoholism,
ann-icvons foods should be used in pref
ereaee to ail others.
The Conyers Weekly.
VOL. YU.
MEMORY’S HALO.
Sometimes when heart- is weary with the strife
Of life existence in this world below,
A radiant beam of suu with treasures rife
Forecasts the shadow with its gladsome glow.
Perhaps a gentle touch of lips so sweet
Will drive the burden from my soul away,
And render life again fondly complete,
An i brighten up the sorrow of the day.
Maybe the memory of some tender hand
“Laid uu the weary brow in time ago,”
Will still the murmurings of grief’s command
Into serene and peaceful ebb and flow.
Lightly the shades will rest, upon my heart,
When mem’ries fond of days gone by,
With all their gentleness and joy impart
A glory like some halo from the sky.
A THANKSGIVING SONG.
Behold the leaves are seer and dead
Where late were summer’s flower3;
And storms and clouds are overhead
Instead of summer showers.
Come close, good comrades; hearts so warm
Would cheer a bleak November;
And while we praise our winter fires,
Sweet summer we’ll remember.
So with one voice of eager song
M,ake our sincere Thanksgiving,
That while we’ve memory or hope
Life is full worth the living.
Mes. T. W Dewing.
THE BRAVEST AND TRUEST.
“I declare I feel as light as a bird,”
Stella Markham observed, as she stood
before the mirror combing out her soft
brown tresses with the utmost delibera¬
tion. “Your Canadian air is exhiliara
ting, Nora. Winter in England means
fog, damp, and general disagreeable¬
ness. Here it is the perfection of weath¬
er. Quite too lovely, isn’t it?”
And Stella, who had gone out to Mon¬
treal on a visit to her uncle—General
Markham, commanding the garrison
there—only a month before, gave a sigh
of pleasure as she gazed out of the win¬
dow at the glorious prospect being be¬
fore her.
Her cousin Nora sat at the window
looking out upon the same view with
perhaps as much of admiration, but
hardly the same amount of enthusiasm,
for she bad been nearly two years in
Montreal, and the novelty was of course
worn off in her case.
“Oh, I don’t know!” she said with a
covert smile of deep significance, “If
one had two lovers always in attendance
I suppose even a desert might be made
tolerable. ”
A dead silence fell upon the room;
then Stella went on placidly arranging
several rows of ringlets over her fore¬
head, wondering what had started Nora
on the war path, but venturing no
remark until her cousin said, with abrupt
emphasis:
“What do suppose will be the end of
all this, Stella ?”
“Of what, pray ? Put it in plain Eng¬
lish.”
“You know perfectly well what I
mean, and you ought to be ashamed of
yourself. You have no right to trifle
with such men as Alan Douglas and
Major Valcour.”
“My dear Nora you are, without ex¬
ception, the most absurdly inconsistent
person of my acquaintance.”
“I do not deny that I have Bad various
ittle affairs in my time, but I never car¬
ried a flirtation beyond my bounds as
you have done.”
“Indeed 1”
“I am really in earnest, Stella. I re¬
fuse to be a party to any such perform¬
ance; and if this sort of thing is to con¬
tinue I shall leave yon to end the affair
as yon see fit. ”
i t Dear me ! what a fuss about nothing !
I don’t think they intend to murder each
other just yet.” they
“Perhaps not; but you know
both love you devotedly, and why do
yon keep them hovering around ? You
can’t marrv them both, and I doubt very
much whether you intend to marry
either.”
“I don’t know that I do,” she an
swered, but the color in her cheeks
deepened somewhat, and she did not
meet her cousin’s questioning glance.
“Then you are worse than I thought
you were !” cried Nora, with righteous
wrath. capable ‘I never oi such would wickedness, have believed Stel a.
vou
tt’s a 3in and a shame for any girl to act
as yon have done ! It's what I call con
'emptibie !”
“Is it, though ?” she answered, with a
little embarrassed laugh. “Don’t get
in such a rage with me, Nora. It isn’t
my fault that I can’t make up my mind.
I am sure I would be perfectly willing
to oblige tou by marrying one of the
gentlemen, oit but I can’t, for the life of
me, find which one to prefer.”
“Yon had better not have either if
y° u ’ ve any doubt about it,” Nora said,
bluntly,
“Now you are going back to what
you said before."
: “I wish you would have done' with
CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO., GA.,'FRIDAY, DECEMBER 12,1884.
ApABiS os *p aiaMstre «IP?S ,/siffSnoip
Am otojj iaqiinj sum. 2aun°N->
„-3uipin sup}
that Nora said, in quite a different
tone:
“You are not in love with either of
them, then?”
“I—I don’t think I am. I believe I
like A1— Mr. Douglas best; but the
Valcour fortune and family arms quite
balance my preference. So you see I
am in a dilemma. Ah, there they are
now! We had better put on our things
before we go downstairs, hadn’t we?
Nora went to the wardrobe and got
out her hat and furs. As she put them
on, preparatory to a ride with her
cousin’s rival suitors, she vented her
feelings in the brief remark that Stella
was the queerest girl she had ever met.
The gentlemen were waiting for them
in the sleigh at the front door, and it
was not long before the robes were
wrapped about them, and they were off
at a rattling pace on the road leading
out of the quaint old town.
It was a clear, breezy day, but not too
cold for pleasure, and the ice-boats—
those swift-winged sleighs so common
on the Canadian rivers in winter—were
skimming over the frozen surface of the
water like beautiful white gulls.
To see those dainty little vessels,
mounted on runners, cutting along over
the ice at a rate of sixty miles an hour,
thrilled Stella’s venturesome soul with
envy.
“Oh, I wouid give anything in the
world for a ride on one of those boats,”
she cried, with girlish extravagance, and
her speaking eyes followed the graceful
movements of the trim little ice fleet.
“Have you never ridden in one?”
Eugene Valcour asked, in surprise,
“No; but I have always wanted to. I
should think it would be perfectly de¬
lightful.”
“it is,” Valcour answere 1. “We have
a boat, Miss Markham. If yon”—
“Ice-boating is very dangerous
sport,” Alan Douglas observed, senten
tiously. “You may dive into an air¬
hole, or capsize at any moment.”
“So they say,” Valcour auswered
carelessly; “but I’ve been out on the
river scores of times, and have never
met with a single accident. It’s all in
the management of the boat. I would
not be afraid to take half a dozen of
people in the Victorine.”
“That a man has escaped a hundred
times is no indemnity against possible
accidents,” Douglas said tersely. “I
wouldn’t care to take anyone with mein
the Victorine—certainly not a lady. ”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be a bit afraid !’’
Stella cried. “Major Valcour, do take
me! Iam dying to go !”
“I am perfectly willing to take you,”
he said laughingly; “only you must
premise me immunity from prosecution
in case anything dreadful happens to
you. ”
Alan Douglas’s face was overspread
with a sudden pallor.
“Major Valcour,” he said sternly, “I
hope you have no serious intention of
doing anything so foolhardy.”
The color rushed to Valcour’s face,
and his eyes emitted an angry spark.
“I am at Miss Markham’s seivice,”
he said shortly. “I shall take her if she
wishes to go.”
“Certainly I do!” Stella cried. “If
there is any real danger, it will only add
zest to my enjoyment. I would like it
above all things — wouldn’t you,
Nora ?”
“No, thanks !” her cousin answered
nervously, “I would rather be ex
cused.”
“What! are you afraid, too?” Stella
exclaimed, with an accent that brought
a resentful flush to Alan’s face.
She might as well have called him a
coward.
“Whether we are afraid or not, Miss
Markham,” he said with quick, cutting
om phasis, “I feel it my duty to inform
you that ice-boating is not a suitable
B port for a lady. In the first place, the
^ oa j. a are mere skeletons, and the only
W ay to accommodate oneself to them is
t0 ij e f j own f} a t j n the stem. There are
uQ 8ea t Sj no cushions, nothing—in fact,
t jj ere are on jy the barest ribs of timber
{ 0 h 0 ]d on. No lady can ride in one
w ithont real discomfort, and—not a lit
tie discredit to herself.”
“Wbat do you mean to insinuate, sir?”
Valcour exclaimed angrily.
insinuate nothing,” Douglas re
plied cooly. “I state the case withou'
equivocation. ’
Then he turned to the coachman and
said in a low tone:
“Stop here, please! nadies, I am
obliged to leave yon. Good morning,
Major Valcour !”
“Drive on !” Valcour cried as he mut
tered something under his breath.
Alan Douglas had leaped lightly out
of the sleigh and, lifting his hat, began
to retrace the road back to Montreal,
“Well, of all the pretty exhibits I ever ,
did see!” Stella exclaimed with a look
of scorn.
“He was afraid we’d ask him to join
us,” whispered Valcour. “He needn’t
have disturbed himself.”
“The idea of a man of his age being
so superlatively cautious 1” Stella added
derisively. “I call that downright cow¬
ardice.”
Valcour was, of course, not ill pleased
to find his rival in disgrace; but Nora
looked back at the retreating figure of
Alan Douglas with a different feeling.
“You will take me, won’t you, Major
Valcour ?” Stella asked coqnettishly.
To which Valcour, of course, replied
hat he would take her anywhere sho
yished to go.
“We might go this afternoon,” hf
mid reflectively; “the ice looks pretty
sound, and there’s a fine breeze blow¬
ing.”
“Yes, yes! do iet us go this after¬
noon !” Stella urged eagerly,
And so it was arrauged.
The Victorine. a splendid little ice
yacht lay just off the landing. Valcour
had provided cushions and robes for
her, but Stella was somewhat surprised
to learn that Alan Douglas had come
pretty near the truth.
They had met him on their way down
to the river, but he passed on with the
slightest of formal salutes.
“Is there no one else going with us?”
Stella asked in surprise, as Eugene Val¬
cour tucked the robes about her, and
seated himself in a half-reclining posture
at her side.
“No,” he answered with a smile. “I
can manage the boat myself, aDd the
Victorine is so small there is hardly
room for more. Besides,” ho added in
a lower and more tender tone, “would
not another person be de trap t You
are not afraid to trust yourself with
me?”
“Oh, no!” Stella answered with
heightened color.
Then the sails caught the wind as it
went whistling by, and away they sped
over the smooth, glittering surface of
the ice. Stella
Lying in the stem of the boat,
looked up at the clear blue sky, and out
at the snow-clad mountains which
skirted their path on either side.
Every object she fixed her eyes upon
appeared to vanish as if by magic. The
boat seemed to skim through the air.
Even the express train which came
Dowling along on the east bank of the
river was left far in the rear.
The wind fluttered Stella’s hair, and
fanned the color in her cheeks into a
bright flame; her eyes sparkled with en¬
joyment, and laughter fairly bubbled to
her lips.
“Isn’t this perfectly splendid ?” she
cried for the sixth or seventh time, as
the Victorine circled and tacked in a
lively breeze.
“There is another boat making this
way,” Valcour observed, “It must bo a
poor sailer. With only one man in it, it
ought to have passed us long ago.”
Stella watched it for awhile, and then
lay back in the stern of lh6 Victorine
with her eyes closed.
“She is catching up with us,” Valcour
exclaimed presently; but Stella was not
the least bit interested in the chase.
“I feel as if I were drifting away into
dreamland somewhere,” she said; and
then she felt a firm hand held softly
over her own.
This brought her to her senses; she
opened her eyes with a start and found
Eugene Valcour looking down at her
with an expression she could not mis¬
take.
“I wish we could go drifting on this
way for ever,” he said passionately, “you
and I, darling.”
For the moment his hold on the rud¬
der had relaxed, and he forgot that con¬
stant vigilance was required of him.
“Look out !” was the clear ringing
shout that came from the boat in the
rear, but it came too late.
The Victorine bad bore down upon
one of those treacnerous air-holes. Id
an instant she had capsized, and both
Stella and Valcour were struggling in
the water.
A cold and frightful plunge was all
that she remembered till hours had
passed, and she found herself lying in
bed, while Nora chafed her wrists and
temples with alcohol.
“Thank God !” Nora cried, fervently,
as Stella opened her eyes. “Tell Mr.
Douglas she is safe.”
“Where is Mr. Valcour?” Stella
asked, feebly,
Nora’s face flushed indignantly,
At home! she answered, shortly,
“He has behaved shamefully, Stella
When the boat upset, he just left you
to drown, and tried to save himself. If
?t hadn t been .or Alan Douglas you
™uldn t be here now ’
“Did Alan savemylife? a,kedStella,
temulousiy.
“Yes. Oh, he has acted like a hero
to-day. He saw you set out, and felt so
fearfnl for your safety that he took an
otiier.boat and followed you. He was
NO. 39.
right near at hand when the accident oc¬
curred. ”
Stella had nothing to say just then;
but when evening came she met Alan
Douglas face to face.
“I sent for you,” she said, holding
out her hands to him. “I owe you my
life, Mr. Douglas.”
“You owe me nothing,” he interposed,
hastily.
“You make it very hard for me,” she
said, looking down. “If I may not offer,
you my life in payment for a debt, will
you accept it as a gift ?”
He looked at her incredulously for »
moment, and then he oanght her hand
with passionate eagerness.
“Stella,” he cried, “you cannot mean
that, after all-:—”
“I have made up my mind to marry
you,” she answered shyly.
“I cannot accept such a sacrifice,” he
said, with a sudden revulsion of feeling:
“this is gratitude.” whispered, nestling
“No, Alan," she
in his arms; “it is love. Won’t you bo
lieve me when I tell you so? I think I
ought to know.”
•SJSSotj can I believe you ?” he said,
and ysSKa folded her to his heart; “my
life, oy love, it is too good to be true !”
“I have done with such injustice,”
she murmured penitently; “can you for¬
give me ?”
“I can forgive you now,” he answered
rapturously.
And so their peace was made.
* * * * * *
It was a year after they were married
that Nora came to make them a visit in
England. Mention of Major Valcour’s
name paved the way to a free discussion
of the foregoing episode.
“I think,” Stella then remarked, with
conscious pride in her husband’s worth,
“that true courage must always have in
it a strong admixture of caution.”
ttnc of the White Slaves,
A GIEIi FBOM A BOWERY BEN TEIM OF
llEIt HORRIBLE LIFE OF MISEBY.
“I am sick and tired of life, Judge,
and I wish he had killed me outright,”
sobbed pretty blue-eyed Lottie Brooks,
aged eighteen, at the Tombs. “That
wretch!” she continued, as she pointed
to John Peterson, proprietor of the
Cambridge, a notorious dance hall; “I
will kill him or he will kill me. Two
months ago I ran away from as nice a
home as any girl has. I didn’t have any
need to work. My parents are well oft,
and they gave me what money I needed.
I became tired of the routine home life
in New Jersey and came to this city,
thinking I would have a life of fun and
excitement, I was accosted by an old
gentleman in Madison Square Park,
who, while pretending to befriend me,
effected my ruin. He deserted me, and
penniless, being afraid to return home,
I became a waiter girl. I very soon
found how horrible it was and tried to
getaway, but he,” and she pointed at
Peterson, who scowled savagely back at
lier, “he beat me black and blue and
threatened to kill me if I tried
to go again. Still, I made two more at¬
tempts to escape, but each time I was
beaten until I could not walk. I he
came nothing more than a slave to him.
Finally, I escaped from the house, and I
want to be protected or he will kill me.”
Peterson swore under his breath. He
was held for examination. Kitty Cav
anagh, also a New Jersey girl, who was
rescued from Peterson’s dive a month
ago. went to the Tombs, and the ex
animation of the charges she had
brought against him were continued.
He was held for trial on her charge.—
New York World.
Bangers of Chemical Experiments.
M. Iiouelle, an eminent French chem¬
ist, was not the most cautious cf op
erators. One day, while performing
some experiments, he observed to his
auditors: “ Gentlemen, you see this
cauldron upon this brazier; well, if I
were to cease stirring a single moment
an explosion would ensue which would
blow us all in the air !” The company
had scarcely time to reflect on this com
fortable piece of intelligence before the
operator did forget to stir his mixture,
and his prediction was accomplished,
The explosion took place with a terrible
crash; all the windows of the laboratory
were smashed to pieces and 200 auditors
thrown about the buildiDg and out of it
in confusion. Fortunately none received
any serious injury, the greatest violence
of the explosion having been done in the
direction of the chimney, and the dem
onstrator escaped without further harm
than the loss of his wig. — World of
Wonders.
Saving Eveby Day .—Peter Cooper
once told a friend that he never (in his
working period) allowed a day to pass
without saving something. No matter
how small the compensation received,
! he always put away something.
A BABE IN TIEE WOODS.
■fhe Adventures ol a Utile Toddler In n
Hough and Kockv Countryside.
Tlie quiet hamlet of Blandford was
the scene on Sunday of an exciting
episode. Herbert Cross lives on the
road between Blandford Centre and
North Blandford. His wife is visiting
out of town, and the care of the farm¬
house, with charge of the two-and
a-half-year-old boy, devolves on his
mother. The little fellow was in the
yard at play on Saturday morning,
while his grandmother was busy inside.
Having occasion to go to the door the
woman missed the child and hunted for
him, thinking he might be in mischief.
Failing to find him, she feared he had
wandered down the road. Being unfit
to follow him, she blew the tin horn,
summoning the father from the field.
Mr. Cross searched the buildings on the
premises without finding him. He hur¬
riedly called his neighbors and the
rumor of a child lost spread till a party
of nearly 100 assembled during the
afternoon to join the search. Many ol
them took lanterns and torches and
followed their quest till midnight. The
only trace of a child was a plaything or
two in a rye stubble field near the house,
When midnight came and the child had
not been found, the father gave up hope
of seeing him again alive. The boy had
an attack of croup the night before and
it seemed reasonable to conclude that
he could not survive a day and a night
of exposure. When the neighbors
abandoned the search soon after mid¬
night, they took teams and spread the
news through Becket and Chester.
When the sun rose Sunday the volun¬
teers, 150 sturdy liillsmen, set out to
scour the woods and fields and brooks.
They formed themselves in a line, the
men but ten feet apart, and thus ad¬
vanced, carefully noticing every rock
and log behind which the little wanderer
might have lain down to die. All the
long forenoon, with its frequent showers,
the column worked its way further from
the homestead. Soon after noon, as
they wGre thinking to redouble their
energies in view of the approaching
night, that part of the line which was
about one mile from the starting point,
suddenly came upon the boy, not dead,
as they expected to find him, but tod¬
dling along the wooden mountain side,
with an apple in one hand and a bunch
of pretty autumn leaves in the other.
He was all right, and there was rejoicing
throughout Blandford. - Hartford Times.
A Wedding Tour.
A clergyman of the Episcopal Church
sends the following to Harper’s
“ Drawer” :
I was located in my first parish, in
the suburbs of Boston, One Monday
evening, twenty-five years ago, a young
man called upon me, whom I knew bu
slightly. He was a mechanic, and was
earning good wages. The call was very
long, and he seemed greatly embarrassed
and really seemed to have nothing to
say. I did not suspect that he came for
any special purpose, At length he
asked:
“Have you any engagement for next
Thursday ?”
“None that will prevent me from mak¬
ing others,” I replied.
“I am to be married to Miss H-,
and we thought we would like Thurs
day."
“All right,” I answered.
“Could you marry us early in the day?
We are going away, and would like to
be married early,” he went on.
“Any hour will suit me,” I replied,
“provided I know it beforehand.”
“Would nine o’clock in the morning
oe too early ?” he continued.
“It will be perfectly convenient for
me,” I said.
“Yen see,” he added, “we are going
away, and we should like to be married
early.”
He placed such emphasis on the “go¬
ing away” that I thought it only cour¬
teous to ask;
“Where do you intend to go?”
“Well,” said he, “we haven’t quite
made up our minds, but I think we
shall go to Mount Auburn.”
And so they did, and spent their wed¬
ding day in that cheerful cemetery.
The Man Lynched at La Crosse.
A dispatch from Portland, Ore., says,
“Scotty,” alias Nat Mitchell, who bru
tally murdered Frank A. Burton, a
prominent Republican, at La Crosse,
Wis., was well known in Kansas City,
Eight years ago he lived at Walla
Walla, W. T., and was a terror in that
country, defying both law and officers,
He was a de perate fellow and con
stantly engaged iu fights. Aided by
two confederates, he engaged for some
time in wholesale horse-stealing, and
finally ran off to California to escape the
vigilantes. Being compelled to leave
that State, he went to Montana, where
in a jealous fury he 6bot and killed his
mistress. He was sent to the peniteD
tiary, but escaped. He was shortly re
captured and subsequently pardoned,
Ho then went to Wisconsin and lived
until lynched,
PainTiSG. —The painters in Italy are
largely engaged nowadays in depicting
the battle scenes of the war3 of inde¬
pendence. Pictures of Palestro, Cns
tozza, Magenta, and Solferino abound
but the execution is very feeble, and-fhe
national Government Isas refused to buy
them.
