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ELBERTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, APRIL 28,1893.
NO. 17-VOL. V-
jack and estella.
Why a Union Veteran Decor
ates the Grave of a
Confederate.
was in the year
1 1862 that Jack
Marsden, the only
child of a wealthy
planter of Ten
nessee, determ
ined to lend his
aid in support of
the cause of the
He
hut
19 years of ag-e, a
tall, dark com-
plexioned, black-
eyed, rokust, man
ly fellow, petted,
perhaps, a little
, ~ >v . ,T L a.yj^yir-_ too much by over
indulgent parents;
Ue — nevertheless, be
loved -by all for his unassuming ways.
At the breaking out of the war he
was attending a college in Massachu
setts where he was among the leaders
in all the sports and recreations of the
students. He was first, in the athletic
games and was a decided favorite among
the faculty and his fellow-classmates.
It is not surprising then that the
announcement of his determination to
return home to offer his services to the
Cofederate army caused deep regret, and
at a meeting of the students it was de
cided to wait upon the faculty and en
deavor to secure permission to give this
{southern classmate a fitting send-off.
The faculty readily consented and
further offered to assist in the matter.
A reception was arranged for an eve
ning before the day set on by Jack for
liis departure, and a most enjoyable af
fair was the result. The big dining
room was taken possession of by the
students and their guests, and after
dinner, at which many little speeches
were made, the evening was spent in
dancing.
Among the bevy of young ladies pres
ent was a blue-eyed, fair complexioned,
rosy-cheeked little miss of perhaps 17,
and it was noticed that to her Jack paid
particular attention. In most of the
dances she was Jack's partner, and dur
ing intermissions they might have
been found in some secluded nook in
deep conversation.
Estella Gardner, was the daughter of a
captain of an Ohio company, which al
ready had gone to the front, and as Es-
tella’s mother was dead, she had been
sent to Boston to live with an aunt un-
An fin *1
Although Jack ana Estella differed as
to the justness of the causes of the war
they were good friends, and the morn-
“No, Lieutenant. I am not ill, but to j
tell the truth I wish the war was over, j
Like a little boy, "I want to go home.”
This he said with a forced smile.
Lieut. Parker looked amazed. The
idea of so brave and gallant a soldier,
a man who from the time he volun
tarily presented himself for enlistment,
seemed to think of nothing but warfare,
and in the thickest of its fray always
led his men and placed himself in the
most dangerous positions, complaining
of his situation seemed absurd. Cap
tain Marsden noticed his Lieutenant's
amazement and half hesitating, said:
“Lietenant, 1 see my words have
mystified you, and as I need a confi
dant 1 will tell j'ou why I am so down
hearted. This morning I received a
letter from home. That of course
cheered noi up if 1 needed cheering,
but enclosed was a letter that is re
sponsible for my gloomy feeling-. It
was from—well, never mind, let that
pass.”
Marsden walked away absent-mind
edly through the storm, while Parker
gazed after him in amazement. Mars-
DESPERATK
MOWED DOWN' AROUND HIM.
ing after the reception when Jack an
nounced to liis classmates that he was
not going to leave direct for the South,
but intended to spend a week in Boston,
there was many a little smile and
twinkle in the eyes of the boy*s.
Jack spent the one week in Boston
and then remained two weeks more—
because he wished too, perhaps.
Jack’s determination to go to the war
was strongly opposed by both his father
and mother, but to no avail, and the
morning that he left for Memphis to
otter his services to General ———
there was deep sorrow at the Marsden
home. Old Rube, the favorite slave of
the Marsdens, drove Jack to the depot,
and it was with a heavy heart that lie
turned the old carriage around and re
sumed his journey homeward, not.how
ever, until after the train bearing Jack
was lost to view.
Jack was accepted at once and took
his place as a private^ but within the
short period of one year had risen,
through his numerous’acts of bravery
to the rank of a captain. Although en
gaged in several fierce skirmishes lie
had escaped without a scratch and
would probably have forgotten that war
fare was accompanied with danger had
not the terrible fact been so forcibly*
presented to him on several occassions
when his comrades were mowed down
all around him.
It was a stormy night that orders
were l’eceived for two companies of
the regiment to hasten to the Poto
mac to endeavor to head off a detach
ment of Yanks w*ho had succeeded in
intercepting a scouting party of
Gen. ’s command. Captain Mars
den had been unusually happy before
the receipt of orders to move, but,
something unknown. in his ca
reer, tlio call to action thrftw
him into deep gloom and his
changed appearance was commented
on among" the boys. Addressing his
first officer, Jack said:
“Lieutenant, as commander of the
company*, I know I am doing wrong in
mentioning the matter, much less to
even let such a foolish idea enter m3*
head, but I must admit that I never
started out on a mission with a heavier
heart than at this time.”
"Why, captain, what has occurred?
I had observed your changed
appearance, but attributed it to
some physical ailment, brought on,
as I thought probable, tiy our exposure
to the disagreeable weather of the
past few days.” . .
DEFENDING EIMSE1.P AVI'
COURAGE
den strolled about as though in a
dream, seeing nothing, communing
with himself. Taking a letter from his
pocket he gazed at it sadly.
“Poor girl,” he said, “so she intends
to come South, because .she thinks she
should be near her father, who is re
ported to be ill of camp-fevei*. To
think that one of her age shuld dare
the dangers of travel in such times!
Ah, Estella, how I love you.”
Then he relapsed into his former
silence. As the hour for the detach
ment he commanded to lea\ r e approach,
he threw off in a great measure his
melancholy feelings and prepared him
self with his wonted vigor for the bat
tle. Ever3*thing Avas soon in readiness
‘ by skillful guidance, and the
little troop marched out into the dark
ness to meet the enemy, and, perhaps,
encounter death.
After a long- march through the storm,
the detachment halted in the road and
waited for the Yanks. They Avere not
long in coming, for presentlyr the tramp,
tramp of the practiced soldiers’ feet
was heard. Marsden stationed his men
in the most adA*antagous positions and
waited the moment for the pra3*.
Soon it commenced. Above the din
of the conflict could be heard the sten
torian voice of ( ’apt. Marsden calling on
his men to fight to the end. The re
ports had deceived them, for the Yanks
outnumbered his detachment ten to one.
Nevertheless they fought with great
fury and finally succeeded in routing
the enemy! but not until they had sus
tained great loss.
When the men finally gathered
together again, flushed with victory,
the cheery voice of their beloved captain
did not greet them. Search Avas insti
tuted immediately, and he was found,
still alive, but unconscious, beside his
horse, with a bullet in his breast.
Willing hands picked him up and
carried him tenderly back to camp,
whence he Avas removed to the military*
hospital at Fredericksburg.
As he was carried through the streets
of the city under a strong escort, a
young lady, accompanied by one many
years her senior, passed; touched with
pity and noticing the profound marks
of respect paid to the little procession,
she asked and received permission to
A'iew the Avounded man.
One glance at the pale face of Mars
den was enough to change the look of
, I’w/i I 1
s® sp^
„ i , \ \ ‘
“YOU * UE IN THE HOSPITAL AT FRED
ERICKSBURG,”
pit3* on the face to one of horror,
which in turn gave place to one of in
tense love.
“Oh, Jack.” '"as all she said, but
there Avas a Avorkl of pity in her tone.
Marsden was carried to the hospital,
and Estella followed. She offered her
self as nurse and was promptly ac
cepted.
Jack’s long stupor was succeeded by
days of raging fever. Through it all
Estella nursed him with infinite care.
Finally* the doctor said the crisis had
come; the patient would awake, but he
could not sa3* whether it would be to
life or death.
When Jack finally opened his ey*es
and gazed about him, the vacant stare
Avas gone. He recognized Estella in
stantly, although deep lines of care
and want of rest Avere upon her face.
His astonishment knew no bounds.
He looked upon her long and earnestly.
He beckoned for her with a hand so
thin and transparent that Estella could
not restrain her tears. She approached
the bedside, and kneeling* beside it.
placed her head upon the pillow. No
words were necessary. They under
stood each other perfectly* Gently she
kissed his AA'hite forehead. When he
questioned her as to hoAA* she came
there she told him that she had been to
her father, and, finding that he liad
completely recovered, she and her aunt,
acting under her father’s orders, had
started to return home, and she also
told him how she came to be at his bed
side at such a time. She told him he
was in the hospital at Fredericksburg.
They remained in conversation until
the doctor came to examine liis pa
tient.
There Avas a troubled look on his face
when he finished, which Estella was
not slow to interpret. She .followed the
physician outside and asked him as to
Jack's prospects. The physician told
her that he could not live the night
through; that his extrema weakness
would surely carry him off by daylight
at the latest; there was no hope.
Jack died that night with Estella’s
hand betAveen his oavu. Estella man
aged to keep her strength until lie Avas
buried; then she grew ill, failed rapidly*,
and finals* departed for the land Avhere
there is no bloodshed to.rejoin her love.
Before she died she requested that she
be buried by the side of Jack. Her
request Avas carried out. Side by side
beneath the green sod they sleep in
peace, undisturbed by the busy hum of
traffic; the earth above is trodden by
many, but it matters not—their slum
bers are not disturbed.
THE IDOL OF THE ARMY.
Some Recollections of the Late
Gen. Beauregard.
In fine death General Pierre Gus
tave Toutant Behave yard the South
lost one of its most Nqnous soldiers, a
man who during the lav war became
an idol of its people and KHq, none of his
prestige thereafter. Altliolwfi a grad
uate of West Point, beieg second in a
class of forty-five that comprised
such distinguished officers as .Generals
Hardee, Wayne, EdAvard Johnson, Rey-
nolds, Trapirr and Sibley, his life was
uneventful until 1846-17, when the
breaking out of the Mexican war
afforded scope for the display of the
rare engineering and strategical quali
ties that distinguished him throughout
his subsequent career. Brevet followed
brevet as a reAvard for his gallantly
upon the field, and when he returned
to his home in New Orleans the young
lieutenant of 1838 Avas known through
out the army as tlie brilliant Major
Beauregard.
It is related ofehim in illustration of
his almost uncontrollable taste for mili
tary things, even at an early age, the
sight of a passing soldier or the beating
of a drum would so excite and carry
him aAvay that he would forget every'-
thing—paternal admonitions, boyish
playmates and even hunger—in order
that he might enjoy the pleasure of fol-
loAving either or both. At the early
age of 11 years the resident teacher of
the household considered him suffi
ciently prepared to go through that
COXEJ5DF.KA.TI
MEMORIAL MONUMENT, TO EE ERECTSD IN OAKWOOD
CHICAGO, JULY 1, 1S93.
CEMETERY,
The remains of over 6.000 Confeder
ate soldiers are buried in Oakvyood
cemetery, Chicago. Above is an illu
stration of the imposing monument to
be erected to their memory. It'is 15
feet and 6 inches square at the base,
and is nearly 40 feet in height, includ
ing the 8 feet bronze statue of a Confed
erate soldier, Avhich surmounts the
structure. The bronze panels on the
sides of the die represent the “Lost
Cause,” the “Call to Arms,” and the
“Eternal Sleep,” the rear bearing* an
appropriate inscription.
It is intended that the work shall be
net by July 1 of the present year. It
will be built from granite quarried at
Constitution Hill, Ga. It is the same
material from which Atlanta’s monu
ment to H. W. Grady was, constructed.
It was some time before Estella's
father heard of her sad but peaceful
end. He was so completely unnerved
that he was compelled to return home,
where he remained until the end of tha
war. The dead girl’s aunt told him the
story. All the captain could say* evas,
that it was f ate, and that he would not
disturb her remains.
Once a y*ear a man. boAved equally* by
the weight of sorrow and of y*ears, a
Union soldier, visits the grave of his
daughter. He bears two wreaths
One he places upon the grave whose
headstone bears simply the name “Es
telle.” The other he places upon the
grave of John Marsden. the Confeder
ate. He alway*s seems to leaA*e in bet
ter spirits than when he came. The
light of love is in his face. Thoughts
of anger are far from him; he thinks
only of the time ay hen he can again see
his dead wife, his daughter Estelle and
C’apt. John Marsden.
THEY SHOULD NOT REST APART.
BY FATHER RYAN.
Gather the sacred dust
Of tlio warriors tried and true,
Who bore the flap: of our nation’s trust.
And fell in a cause as great as just
And died for me and you.
Gather them, each and all,
From the private to the chief,
Come they from cabin or lordly hall;
Over their dust let the^fresh tears fall
Of a nation’s holy grief.
No matter whence they come,
Deal- is their lifeless clay;
Whether unknown or known to fame,
Their cause and country were the same—
They died—and they wore the gray. __
touching ceremony in the Homan Cath
olic church, the children's first commu
nion. The appointed day haA*ing* ar
rived, young Beauregard, Avitli his fam
ily* seated in one of the front pew# of
the old St. Louis Cathedral, awaited
the moment when he Avas to approach
and kneel at the altar. Suddenly* the
roll of a drum resounded through the
edifice. The child Avas already on his
feet and moving up the broad aisle, but
lie stopped, hesitated, and as the in
spiring notes became move distinct
fairly* turned his back upon the altar
and dashed out of the church. No
stronger proof than this coukl be given
of the bent ot his character.
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS.
As history has recorded most of the
important events in his military career
my* aim will be to draw an outline of
the man rather than of the official, and
as I daily saw him in the familiar rela
tions of a personal aide-de camp from
the beginning until the end of the Avar.
In common Avith many of the planter?
of South Carolina I had responded to the
request of Governor Pickens and carried
to Morris Island forty of my neg*roes foi
work in constructing batteries. I
plainly saw that whoever commanded
troops around Charleston harbor would
be obliged to communicate Avith his sub
ordinates by means of boats. I there
fore tendered to the governor my* own
and the services of my* boatmen, with
the understanding that I should have a
military position, so that in the e\*ent
of capture I should be regarded as a
prisoner of war? Beauregard had ar
rived in Charleston that very day*, and
learning the facts the offer was promptly
accepted and the planter thus changed
into the soldier.
The neAv chieftain was then forty-
three years of age, and though not
y*et draped in historic robes something
about liis personality* showed him to be
at once a model soldier and a finished
gentleman. Among the privates assem
bled for duty* at the call of their state
were planters and sons of planters,
some of them the wealthiest men in
South Carolina, diligently working side
by* side Avith their sla\*es. There were
hoys and gray beards, the heirs of an
cient names who had lived in luxury
from childhood, and the unlettered sons
of toil, students and ploughmen, rosy
cheeked urchins and grizzled seniors,
vet, among them all. Beauregard moved
with a kindly and simple bearing* that
shoAved him to he by* birth and habit
the true gentilhoiffme.
Later in the war hematic himself r*'-' *i-
lar among the private soldiers by ming
ling with them Avhen not obitlntye,
versing* with them and lighting his
cigar at their camp fires.
The folloAA’ing is an incident in point.
While at Centerville a private soldier
belong ing* to a company of cavalry that*
served as the general’s bodyguard "en
tered Beauregard’s apartment and be
gan writing a letter, as lie supposed at
the desk of one of the clerks. Hearing
a step behind him, he turned and saAA*
his chief enter. All at once the truth
flashed upon him that he Avas Avriting
at the general's desk, on the general's
paper and with the general’s pen. The
soldier attempted to stammer out an
apology, but none was necessary. “Sit
dmvn and finish your letter, my friend,”
said Beauregard, with a g*ood humored
smile, “y*cu are very welcome and can
always come in here when you wish to
write.” Is it a wonder that such a
commander should be personally mag
netic in battle as was the case on the
field of the first Manassas fight? The
confederate battalions broken to pieces
Avere scarcely more than a croAA*d of
fugitives, yet when Beauregard, with
ffis eyes flaming and his gaunt face
ablaze with enthusiasm, dashed among*
them and seizing the colors of the near
est regiment called upon the men to fol-
Ioaa* him, they rallied amid the terrific
fire and swept forward to A*ietory.
Jefferson Davis made his second in
formal visit to the front in October,
1861, Avhen the Confederate army* was
encamped in the neighborhood of Fair
fax Court House. After holding a
levee in the little old fashioned farm
house that constituted headquarters a
formal review of a portion of the army*
took place. I only recall this because
it is one of the lesser incidents of the
war that lias not passed into history
and yet preserves a part of the picture
that is fading into obscurity*.
it WAS .About, {.lie noon and
the immediate divisions under review
were in line. Directly there was a
burst of music and then appeared at
the front a dignified soldierly figure,
keen eyed, agile, and riding with easy
grace, his hat raised to every salutation,
the man on Avhom the eyes of the civil
ized AA'orid Avere fixed as the representa
tive of the Southern people. Just be
hind him in the full Confederate uni
form of gray, with head erect and a
face that seemed macadamized in its
hardness, rode General Joseph E. John
ston. By his side Avas Beauregard, to
whom the Hiclimond Examiner ap
plied the sobriquet' 11 Beauregard Felix,”
because among the Romas that term
signified happy, fortunate and fa\*ored
of the gods; Beauregard, the hero of
Fort Sumter; Beauregard, the superb,
whom the boys remembered at Manas
sas but a feAV months before, shouting
in his inspiring voice amid the dense
smoke of the battle field. “I salute the
Eighth Georgia Avith my hat off! His
tory* shall never forget you!”
Attired in blue, Avith a feAv or no mil
itary adornments on his person except
a red. g’old bound cap such as vvas
affected at the time by officers from
NeAv Orleans, Avho more or less copied
their style from the French, itAvase’asy
to see that he Avas the pet of the army.
His smooth, handsome face was
browned by* exposure to the sun, and
there \\*as that about his dark, alert
ey*e, his magnificent horsemanship and
poise as a cavalier Avhich marked him
as chief in the admiration of the men.
Tlie Bullet Missed Him.
After the famous old colonial battle
knoAvn as Braddock’s Defeat, more
than one Indian testified that he aimed
his gun directly at Washington, intend
ing to kill him; but not a bullet touched
him. They said he bore a charmed life.
The same strange immunity in cadger
lias been the experience of other men
who afterward made a fig-uni in the
world.
In the first year of the civil Avar,
when the Confederate General Floyd,
and the Union General Cox, Avere facing
each other with their troops on oppo
site sides of the Gauley river, in West
Virginia, a Georgia officer heard a
bug*le blast early one morning near
Hawk’s Nest Bluff, and saw an Ohio
colonel ride out at the head of his regi
ment.
The distance was g*reat for small
arms practice, but the Southerner mas
a sha rp-shooter, and borrowing* a long
range rifle from one of his men. he took
careful aim across the river at the col
onel's head.
The bullet sped on its way, and the
marksman saAv one of the plumes fall
from the colonel’s hat. Of course, the
colonel took warning, and retreated
from the river bank at once.—Youth’s
Companion.
Jefferson Davis’ Remains,
On the 30th day of May the remains
of ex-President Jefferson Davis will be
removed to the resting place provided
for them in the beautiful city of Iticli-
mond, on the James river. It Avas in
Richmond that he administered the
affairs of the Confederate government
Avhen he occupied the position of chief
executive.
A bronze statue of a Confederate ar
tilleryman standing bareheaded, his
left hand holding* a soft felt hat by his
side, his right supporting* a rammer
with the sw*ab end upAvard, is to be un
veiled' at Richmond in December, in
memory of the IIoAvitzer Battalion of
that citv.
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AFTER.
Spring, with her banners gold and green,
W ith her splendid suns and her stars seiche,
Smiles in the pease that comes a Iter the fray;
And under the arch of the April skies
The starry flag of the Union flies,
Comrades' over your breasts to-dav.
Forward! March! to the roll of the drum .
The loyal sons of the Southland cornel
Not to the battle!—the cannon's retai
ls heard in the forests and fields no more;
The SAveetest roses in all the'South,
Blossoming up from the stainfos* sod,
With incense sweet as they smile to God,
Have sealed Avith silence its iron mouth.
Your guns are stacked and your swords are
sheathed,
And your brows with the laurels of Peace are
Avreathed.
It is after tlie battle; what sounds are here?
The songs of birds on the scented air:
The murmurous sigh of the inland gales;
The A*oice of the rivers that clashing free.
Move in melody out to sea
By murmurous meadows and violet- vales;
Where once, in the strife and the passion and
pain.
Hose the shout of the victor, tlie cry of the
slain.
Tt is after the battle; the fight is done:
The victory lost and the victory won!
And ye, avIiq fought for the booth and slicdl
Your blood on the battle fields, come to-day,
Where your comrades sleep, in their coats of
gray,
Under the grasses that hide your dead!
Halt! there are heroes that slumber here.
And ye are such for the Avouuds ye bear!
Beat, ye drums, Avith no muffled sound!
Let the bugles echo the camps around!
And still three cheers for the boys in grey!
For whether they lived, or whether they died.
The South by their \*i,lor is glorified
And rich in her record of love to-day!
Sons of the South! theec’s a victory sweet
That comes to the brave in the ranks of defeat!
Here are they lying—the,ones that shed
Their blood for the South till her vales ran red,
And her rivers blushed Avith the crimson
tide!
Honor them! 0\*er their graves the years
Have scattered their roses and showered their
tears
And Southern Avomen have knelt and sighed.
Honor them! Hondr was theirs, and fame
Enshrines in glory encli deathless name.
Tlie flag that they bore to the fight is furled,
Hidden away from tlie neAV-made Avorld,
And trailed in the dust are its crimson bars;
The beautiful flag! ’ and they loved it so,
But that is now in the long-ago.
When the heavens were beaming Avith hope
ful stars.
Yet rare is the garland that o’er them waA*es—
Whose erimeson shadow falls ou tlicir graves.
And Peace, like a beautiful angel, broods,
O’er the fertile fields and the solitudes
Of a land' made bright by the smile of God;
And—dearest blessmg of all—to-day,
The foes who fought in the far-away,
Are re-united on this dear sod,
Which blossoms over the slain of Avar—
Friends! was it love we were fighting for?
Oh, loA*e is ours. Though the fight was sore,
It is ended now—avo are friends once more!
Once more —tluink God! —we can proudly
stand,
And looking back on the bloody past,
Say: “It is over at last—at last!”
With heart to heart and with hand to hand.
•Over—and here, in the sight of heaven,
"We do 1'oi‘sAivo- ua wc iuito liotiriveii.
And thus forgiven, brave hearts and true,
The boys in gray and the boys in blue —
Your higher mission at last is done.
And though o’er the gra\*es of our dead we
weep,
Wc can trust them all to the tender keep
Of the God who guides us and makes us one!
One in the union which shall not cease
Till the Hugs are furled in the Port of Peace.
F. L. Stanton
WAR REMINISCENCES.
Scenes of tlie Late Great Conflict Recalled
to Mind.
LIGHTHOUSE AT FORT MORGAN AFTER
TO MR A EDM EX T.
^SESE
J
SCENE AT KOAHVILLE IN THE EARLY
BAYS OF THE AVAR.
A Fortunate Youth.
Tlie passengers on an inbound train ou
the Boston and Albany* railroad were
greatly amused one afternoon lately by
the actions of a gay Lothario. When tha
train stopped at Natick, a handsome
voujig man Avas seen standing on tha
platform bidding an affectionate adieu
to an equally fine looking young wom
an. She nestled up to her fond admirer
and brushed imaginary specks off tha
fhpe^bf his coat.
As the train was about to start ha
made an effort to embrace the idol of his
heart, but was'rebuked by the young
woman, who remarked:
“Not here, Fred; there are too many
people around.”
So Fred whispered a sweet goodby
and jumped aboard the now moving
train.
As the cars sped on to Boston, Fred
rapidly* forgot the girl he had left be
hind him and seemed to care but' little
for the attention that was shown to him
by* those of liis fellow passengers who
had witnessed the parting at Natick.
But Fred had another treat in stove for
the passengers. When the train pulled
up at Huntington avenue, he alighted
with a merry heart, and before the peo
ple in the car could fully realize what
had happened was in the arms of-an
other fine young woman. This time lie
found no difficulty in implanting a kiss
on the right spot, and the happy pair
walked off together, totally* oblivious of
the fun they had created. Everybody in
the car giggled, and persons who were
entire strangers to one another freely
discussed that affecting scene from real
life.—Boston Herald.
Nurture ami Physical Development.
We may ask, Has any actual difference
been ascertained between the growth of
the children of the favored class and
that of the less favored child? Do fresh
air and good food and exercise and the
absence of exhausting labor tell not only’ 1
upon the general health and happiness of
our children, but upon their height and
weight and the development of their
chests? Does nurture tell in actual fig
ures upon the size of a man? To this we
may answer yes.
It should he remarked in this connec
tion that in regard to their actual origi
nal endowment of bone and muscle, na
ture is impartial in her favors, that her
children are born free and equal in this
respect, and that circumstances as re
gards poverty or wealth or class, whether
of king or peasant, have little or no in
fluence upon the size of the new born.
It is also noteworthy that the tendency
in the beginning is always toAvard the
normal symmetrical development of the
body, and (speaking of the rule) that
children are not born deformed, or with
TS8 ut-fiEfiSiflits and irregularities* wo
sometimes jiote in them later. Out of
23,200 infants observed by* Cliaussier,
only* 122 were found to present any* de
viation from the normal, and these ex
ceptions were actual monstrosities, while
from 15,229 cases observed at a marer-
nite in Paris only 45 were deformed.—
Mary T. Bissell, M. D., in Harper’s
Bazar.
If You Were on the Moon.
If lunar conditions are favorable to hu-
inarn existence—and it is not certain that
they* are not—and y*ou could be trans
ported to the top of Pico ou some ether
tall peak or rock on the surface ©f oiir
“silvery sister world,” how do you sup
pose things would look from such van
tage ground? You would probably first
turn your eyes in the direction of our
earth—the world you had just quitted—
but to you it Avould be a stranger. In
place of the somber globe you would
naturally expect to behold your eyes
would be greeted with a most wqnderful
sight. The earth would appear to y*ou to
be 64 times larger than the sun appears
to the residents of this mundane sphere.
This because the^earth has eight times
the diameter of the moon; therefore sha
must necessarily sIioav the moonites 64
time# as much surface as the moon
shOAVS us.
The sun, on the other hand, would ap
pear no larger to you from your observa
tory on the moon than it does from oifr
globe. The earth's atmosphere being blue,
it has been decided that the earth must
appear as a blue ball to all# outside on
lookers. What a glorious sight it must
be to our lunarian neighbors tcTlook upon
a bright blue, sAvif t revolving ball 64 times
Larger than the sun!—St. Louis Republic.
feBlf "
FORD S THEATRE.
timf'
=- : ■ ■ * v •L"i -y,
Boarding House Amenities.
They were talking at the boarding
house table about Smith, the lawyer,
who was not present.
“Smith.” said the autocrat at the head
of the table, and who is himself a law
yer, “Smith is a very bright fellow, but
he has this drawback: He rates himself
about 60 per cent higher than anybody
else does.”
“Yes,” said the newspaper man medi
tatively as he reached over and took the
two brown biscuits that the teacher had
her eyes on, “yes, but that is such a
common failing of lawy*ers that I never
take any account of it.”
And then the other boarders who never
dare to indulge in such amenities laughed
wildly*, while the lawy*er said he
couldn’t see why it was that a slur on
his profession was always so amusing to
the common herd.—Exchange.
Danger From Adhesive Plasters.
The Lancet gives an account of a fatal
case of blood poisoning in which the in
fection was traced to a bunion plaster.
One can readily see how the common
court plaster or any adhesive plaster
might be the cause of infecting a fresh
wound. They* are made to a great ex
tent of animal refuse and bey*ond that
may be infected in the pocket or by be
ing carelessly left in a place where they
are liable to contamination.
VIEW OF VICE.SRUEtt.
Browning’s Meter.
Mrs. Crosse relates that, con\*ersing
with the Poet Browning, she remarked
that an accident had happened to her
gas meter, and when she left the house
tlie place was in darkness.
“I should not be surprised if the same
tiling occurred to me,” answered Brown
ing, "for my critics tell me there is some
thing wrong with my meter.’’