Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOL. V.-NO. 22. E apele tor are to the SEXTANT. BY A. GASPER. fTh ;g poem ought to be printed every year Ji on au average and then its lessons will too well learned.] isoitantof the meetlnouse which sweeps a‘-1 dusts, or is supposed to! and makes tires, I'dlitoa the gas, audsumtimes leaves a screw to which case it smels orful—wus than kun- Ind wrings the Bel and toles It, and sweeps ind forWese servases gits $10') per annum; ieb them that thinks deer let cm try It; "i r-n up before starlito in all wethers, and r ndlin fieis when the wether is as cold [s zero, and like as not green wood for kind twouldn't be hierd to do It for no some;) i t o Sextant, the: e are one kermodity r-ith more than gold« hieh don’t cost nuthin; jfutb more than anything except the Sole of Man! * x » mean power Are, Sextant, I mean pewer Are! litis plenty out o dores, so plenty it doant no What on airth to dew with itself, but llize about fraterin leaves and bloin off men’s hats; in'stort its jest as free as Are out dores; gut 0 Sextant! in our church its scarce as piety, Scarce as bankbils when ajunts beg form's hnns. With sum say is purty often, taint nothing to (That I give aint nothin to nobody; but O Sex tant! sou shot 500 men, women and children, Speshily the latter, up in a tfto place, «ome has bad breths, none of em aint too sweet, Sum is fevery, sum is scroflus, sum has bad teeth, And sum hnlntnone, and sum aint over clean; But evry one of em brethes in and out and out and in Say 50 times a mmnet, or 1 milion and a half breths an hour; Mow how long will a cherch full of Are last at that rate? laskj-ou; say 15 mlnnots, and then what’s to ba did? Whv then they must brethe it all over agin, And then agin and so on, til each has took it down At least 10 limes and let it up agin, and whats more, The sjme individible d<~ant hav the privilege Os brethin his own Are cud no one's else, Each one must take wotever comes to him. 10 Sextant! doant you know our lungs is bel lusses To bio the tier of life and keep it from Goin out: and how can bellusses bio without wind? And aint wind Are? I put it to your konshens. Are is the same to us as milk to babies, Or water is to fish, or pendlums to ciox, Orroots and alrbs uutc tin Injun Doctor, Or little pills unto an omepath, Orßoze to gurls. Are is for us to brethe. What sigtdties who preaches es I cant brethe? What's Pol? What’s Follus to s.nners who are ded? Ded for want of breth? why Sextant when we dye Its only coz we cant brethe no more—that’s all. And now o Sextant! let me beg of you To let a leetle Are into our cherch; Irewer Are is sertiu proper for the pews,) And dew it week days and on Sundys tew— It amt much trubble—only make a hoal And then the Are will come iu of itself, . j ® s to . r ' onl(1 In where it can git warm.) And o how it will rouze the people up Ann Rperr-.f tin thn vmnohor. an,t s*opgtn»*r'o And yorns and fijjits as effectool As wind on the dry Bonus the Profit tels -Mn, AraheUaWillson. in Christian WeeMv. PUSH AM) PLUCK. “Push—push— push! Yes, it’s got to be push all the time with me if I’m ever [goingto amount to anything, and I’m bound! will!” Jim Brand drew as close as he could to the little end window of the garret in which lie slept, trying to catch the last ra y s bf light on his worn book. t “It s a tussle!” he presently ex claimed, looking off into a dark corner of the room, with a face which showed a mind hard at work over some knotty /•rob.em. “If ] onlv had some one to show me a bit! The words are all straight enough—l’ve got them pat, but "here the sense comes in’s more than I can see. ‘The square of the hypothe iiuse ot a right angle triangle is equal to ie squares of the other two sides.’ To sure, but how to get at it is what beats me.” vim closed the book, one he had dip ped into because he had exhausted everything else within his reach. But le expression of full determination to conquer some day what now baffled him as fixed on his bright, homely face •ndseemed to extend to every stout iiuo of his stubby frame. The boy’s sturdy resolve to obtain an education ?bAv and throve under what m'ght be oonsideied great disadvantages, were it Oi that it has been abundantly proven that to the to t . r of minds obstacles seem only jnnrmsh stepping-stones to higher suc- He lived with his widowed mother in ’Wall country village, and for the last “ tears had worked for a farmer— nf / i' vo }. ’ Poor pay and a scant taste tions nn«, n “ * n "inter. His aspira ns now were tor something better in [ e "W of instruction than the country chool afforded. Four miles away, in a a’gertown, was a good teacher, and , im wanted now to stay at home, study ■’bier and recite to this man, but how acc °niplish this he could not see, for e must still earn his living and heli) his toother. “ A triweekly mail was carried ‘rough their t illage, it being off any “gmar routes. The carrying of this hern offered to Jim and had excit- J “im greatly, for the same road would i e h'm to the teacher he was anxious o reach, thus enabling him to kill two 3 >r<ls with one stone. ’ But difficulties ’'ore in the way. A scrubby pony had I eu placed at his disposal for a very ° w price—his carefully hoarded sav [Hgs would cover it—but its keep was a ; e nous matter. Jim had been cherish ing another project for a year past. s ’iinmer he, in company with an ■ 'li farm-laborer, had been driving an sornlo - lav '"’agon along the road when ~.i . e . t ‘ nn g appeared in the distance "tovh astonished both. It was surely f 'flier man, horse nor dog. It came arf l l Hem with marvelous speed, and . ' >t drew near developed a human, yet [ toman, aspect which had something giit'nlly comical about it. The horses I restless at the uncanny sight, and f(''-v, Sp . I i an . K to their heads, while Pat, j''ntly invoking Hie protection ot the gm Mary and an untold number of lnts > showed his lack of faith in their Sl)t Ballon Gratis. efforts in his behalf by immediately tumbling himself over the hedge, where he lay concealed. As the thing came near it ran to the side of the road opposite to which Jim had turned his horses, and there fell to pieces, and while one part of it leaned against the fence, the other, in the shape of a well-looking, blue-iianneled boy, ran toward Jim. ‘‘Oh—did I frighten your horses?” he cried, in a tone of frank politeness. “Well, I’m sorry. 1 ought to have stopped sooner, but where 1 live the horses are getting used to them and I didn’tthink. Whoa, now—poor fellow,” patting them, and the well-meaning creatures looked an immediate i ecognition of the friendly voice and touch. “What have you got there?” asked Jim, looking in great curiosity at the thing leaning against the fence. “ A bicycle—havn’t you seen any? I guess there are not very many about yet, but my father’s a machine man and that’s how 1 came by the luck of getting one. We’re boarding at Farmer Merrivale’s down there and I can make the distance out here in loss than no time.” This was indefinite, but it was three miles, and Jim had seen for himself how like a thing of life the wonderful skeleton steed moved. He examined it with thoughtful eyes. “It doesn’t have to eat, does it?” “No,” said the boy, laughing, “only a little oil once in awhile.” But its cost was beyond that of a pony. Jim .watched in delight and longing as it, with its owner, were spinningdown the road, while Pat crept from his hiding-place with many an ex clamation over the “wan-legged wheel barry.” From that hour Jim had never given up the idea of possess’ng a bicy le, and in dreams had seen more than one picture of himself flying over lhe roads carrying on his back a bag of mail-matter and a sachel of school books. “I think I’ll go down to the State Fa r next week, mother.” “To the State Fair, Jimmy?” she said, in surprise. He did not often go on a frolic. “Yes, I’m going to try if I can't make a little money there.” “ How, my boy?” “I’m told" the fair-grounds are more than a mile, out of the city, and that there’s always a great demand for teams to carry passengers to and from it. I’ve been talking to Deacon Granger, and he’s willing to trust me with his pair of grays, aud I’m gong to hire Brown’s big new spring wagon, and I believe I can make a good deal over what I shall have to pay for team and wagon.” “ And their keep, and your own —P” this mother and son were used to very close calculating. “ Yes, I think I can do it.” He was on the alert for passengers early on the first morning of the fair. Exhibitors only were arriving on that day, but he found plenty to do among those who desired the carriage of light articles and fancy wares. On the sec ond day the people came pouring in from all directions, and the accommo dating boy with the well-governed, light stepping grays was in constant demand The third day was brilliant in sunshine, and citv and fair-grounds and the space intervening seemed alike overflowing with the busy, merry, chattering crowd. About the middle of the forenoon came a lull in Jim’s work, the arriving stream having about ceased and the re turning one not vet begun. Jim went for a look at the machinery, much of which had arrive I sin e he had been aroun i that way before. He gated for a while awe-struck at the great power eng ne, quietly moving its ponderous arms an 1 wheels in such fearful, master ful strength for goo lor for ill. He was then examining with intelligent interest the beautiful perfection of some im proved farming impL meats when his attention was drawn to something which moved in and out among surrounding on-lookers with almost the swiftness and lightness of a sunbeam. It was a graceful, boyish fig re mounted on a bicycle which gleamed and shone in polished steel and nickel-plating. And as he came nearer and sprang lightly to the ground, Jim’s fa e beamed wilh surprise and pleasure as ho perceived that it was the same boy whom he had seen more than a year before. “Halloo!” he said, as Jim m desily appr ached to look at the bicycle. “Havn’t I seen you leiore s mewhere. ] have, I know; why yes, don t yen re mem'er the time I frightened join horses?” Jim was charmed by the cirdialrec oo-nition, and the two I oys were soon in earnest discussion over the merits of the different machines. Harvey (. enn was able to point out to Jim many ex < ellencics he had not before appreci ated laving his hands familiarly on s me of the swift, moving intricacies with a daring which made Jim trem de; imp essing him deeply, to >, by the in formation that hie fathar represented the ffreat machine company which had sent a nunil er of these magnificent things on exhibition. lhe bicycle, a m ><lel in I eauty. strength and adapta ti< n to the use for which it was intend ed, came in for its full share o. admir ing attention. _ “This is an exhibiti n machine, ex plained Harvey. “Most of those made for sale are a little heavier built, for greater strength, and a - e not got up quite so finely.” And in the course of chat Jim con fided to H.-.’-vey his hopes and inten tions as to himself owning a bicycle some day. And Harvey insisted on his mounting this one. giving. h r ' n . l tions in the way of managing it, which Jim did, and after a few turns of the DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1833. wheel, during which he felt as if ho or his fairy steed, or both, had taken wings, the big wheel began to wabble unreasonably and Jim to incline wildly first to one side and then the other. Then the little wheel grew skittish, and as it rose obstreperously I ehind Jim went down Before, amid shouts of good humored laughter. But it was hushed all of a sudden, for there came a loud and terrible sound which struck fear to every heart —a stunning report, then quick rend ing—tearing—crashing. And as Jim gathered himself up, dazed, deafened and bewildered, cries of alarm and suf fering arose on the one moment of dread silence which had followed the shock. It was some little time before those who gathered frantically around couuld understand that a steam-boiler had exploded with awful violence, deal ing destruction and death among the assembled multitudes, but it was only a breathing time before a wail of anguish went up from stricken ones whose own had been smitten down at their very sides. J tn was blinded by quick coming tears as he bent over the apparently lifeless form of his just now joyous companion. A dark line of blood slow ly trickled from under his hair, and Jim turned half faint as he saw blood gathering under h’m on the grass. He was about to raise a cry for help when a tall man knelt down by the boy with a white face and trembling hands, rearing open h : s coat he applied his ear to his chest. “I am a physician,” said another man, hurrying up, and together they made a hasty examination of injuries which were found to be serious but not probably fatal. “What shall I do?” said Harvey’s father, looking about him in distressed perplexity. “I ought to take him to the hotel at once—and then again, I “ught to be seeing after more of these poor souls—and the mischief my wares have worked.” ~lf you will trust him with me,” said the physician, “I will go and take care of him. See, there are already more doctors than patients here.” Harvey opened his eyes. “Yes—l ll go, father. Dont be anx ious—l’ll soon be all right.” Mr. Glenn asked Jim to run for a hack which stood a little distant from them. But as he pointed to the wounded boy with a few eager words the driver stood stolidly and shook his head. “No—l can’t have my carriage •spoiled with that sort o' wovk. i couldn’t use it again to-day and 1 can’t afford it.” With a face ablaze with indignation Jim hurried to another driver with much the same result. •*l’m here with a party —can't do any thing else.” Some drivers quietly mo . ed their vehicles to another part of the grounds to avoid being called on to assist in the removal ot wounded and dead. “I’ve got a light wagon,” said Jim. going back to the doctor, almost choked withanger. “May 1 bring that?” “Yes—quick.” The seats were torn out with little ceremony. Straw was placed in the bed of the wagon, upon which Harvey was tenderly laid. Then the horses were led round to where other sufferers lay and two more were added to the load. Again Jim’s heart grew sick at sight of torn, bleeding bodies and anxious friends trving to improvise comforts and bring some relief, and be turned his half dizzy head the other way as they passed a building in which he knew were lying those suddenly called out of the sun shine and the summer air and the busi ness and the pleasure. “Comeback,” whispered Mr. Glenn as .Tim took his slow way to the town. •‘There’s hardly one of these heathen drivers will bear a hand.” Jim came back and carried two more injured men, unknown bj r any one there, so far as he could learn. Then again for others whose mourning friends followed in a carriage. At night, over excited by the sad scenes through which he had given such ready, self-forgetting aid. he went to his bed, feeling as if he never could close his eyes again. But sweet sleep watches in kindliness on the steps of such, and the country boy’s rest was unbroken by dreams of the day’s tragedy. When lie awoke the sun was beaming as benignly as if it had not last shone on hearts shadowed while time should last on what it had then witnessed. , He first went to the hotel at which he had left Harvey, and was cheered by hearing fair accounts of his condition and that his mother had come to him. Then he turned his attention to his wagon, spattered and dripped with the marks of his fearful loads of the day be fore. It took him hours to wash it, re quiring such an amount of energetic scrubbino- that he soon perceived that a thorough’repainting would be necessary to put it in condition to return to its owner. It was not fit to ofler for pas senders now. He drove out to the fair grounds, thinking he might see some- of his seats, and did, indee 1, spy what looked like them in a huge pile of ruins from the disaster, but they were quite beyond reach. He caught sight of Harvey’s father, who turned at his ap proach and gave him a warm shake of the hand, but his attention was instant ly claimed again by those who passed about him. . As Jim turned his horses homeward he was ashamed of himself that he felt much depressed at realizing how utter ly his expedition had been a failure in a money point of view. Ashamed that his heart, which had so stood still be fore the woe oi others, could give a ■ thought to his own light loss. In his in -1 nocent respect for the afflicted he had not for a moment thought of applying for what was justly his due, and would, of course, have been willingly paid for his most valuable services in "a time of such a need. The loss would throw him back a year, perhaps more, in his pursuit of learning. But he was made of the stuff which occasionally sends a boy from the prairie or the log cabin to Uie White House—more of them to high places in civil and military life, and, perhaps, better, sends boys all over the length and breadth of the land to fill worthy p'aces as exemplars of all that is noble and honorable in American manhood. Arrived at home he made terms for the complete putting in order of the wagon. This, with his horse hire, used up a little more than he had made aX the fair before the accident occurred. “Halloo, here—Jim? You’re Jim Braud, ain’t you?” “ Yes,” said Jim, thus hailed by a farm-hand who drove up to his moth er’s gate and spied him at work in the garden. “ Well, here then.” He turned away as Jim took a bulky letter from his hand. “Any answer?” shouted Jim. “Guess not. Not as I was told of.” Jim carried it in the house and sat by his mother as he opened it. This was nearly a month after his venture at the fair. Several sheets of paper, headed each with the device of a steam-power and business-like lettering, were covered on one side with boyish-looking hand writing. From among these fell a small piece of paper. Jim had never seen many like it, but h’s hand shook as, first looking at it, he passed it to his mother. This was the letter: “Dear Old Fellow: Father wanted to write to you just as s o i as i “ c uld think straight about tw.ytioag. i 1.1 i.e, ed him to wait t ill could do it, so that's why you h ivev’t heard from us before. Father expected to s. you again at the fair, but couldn’t find you. Other people wanted you, too. They said you di In tgo tor your pay for helping folka Why didn’t you? You were a goose. Father’s had quite a time finding out how to address you, but the Merrivales told him. “I’ve been brought home, but the doctors think I’ll have to lie still a longtime yet. I don t like it at all, but mother says it’s sure to be all right somehow or it wouldn't be so. My mother's that sort. I’m glad she is. I think that sort is the best to have, when you're in trouble and when you're out of trouble, too. “ But what 1 want to tell you most of all is that the Co. that means, you knew, ah the folks of the machine works, think you did the right up ana aown square tnmg oy tnem ana by everybody else that day of the explosion. So they send you this two hundred d liars just tomakesur ; you didn’t loss anything by it, aud father hopes its enough, and ho says you behaved admirably, and if you ever want a c 2 .>.-•, WTVtnv lx. I-,.. .-j that kind of thing. “By the time this letter reaches yon you 11 find my bicycle waiting for you at the railroad station, so you’d better go and get it. Father was going to send you one himself but —- now you needn’t mind about it at all, tor I don’t believe it’s going to be so at all - but some of tbo doctors think perhaps I won’t ever ride a bicycle any more, and I'm fond of mine and dop’t want any other boy should have it but yob. “ We’ll all be up to Merrivale’s next summer and th-n I'll see you. Mother says she’ll nev er be satisfied till she sees Jim’s mother to tell her how you stood by us that time. 1 can’t write any"more uow. You write to me and 111 write again. Harvey Glenn. “Ho! Bother it, mother,” said Jim with a great assumption of indifference, “ they must be the queerest folks—mak ing such a fuss over what you’ve done when you haven’t done anything at all!” But “Jim’s mother” was crying as she kissed him and thought of the moth er whose boy might never again ride a bicycle, and Jim went out into a corner of the garden and looked very hard at nothing for a long time. Less than a year afterward Jim, fly ing swi tly along with a mind intent upon a knotty Latin construction, was scarcely aware of being overtaken and passed bv something which then ran into the side of tne road, where a bicy cle fell into the grass and its rider sud denly confronted him. In his over whelming astonishment Jim entirely lost control of his own vehicle, and went down in the dust with it. Pick’ng himself up, hardly knowing whether h s eves did not deceive him. his hands were warmly grasped, and two happier boy-faces never, surely, looked into each other. “Harvey!” “Jim!” Jim stopped to gather his books in the little silence which followed. “Begging at them yet?” said Harvey. “Yes, pushing away—but it’s slow work.” “Ah, but mother says you re a chap that’s sure to go skitmg straight up to the very top notch —I don’t mean, you know, that she says just those words, but”—his face grew grave at the memory of the circumstances under which he had last seen Jim, “she says when folks push with their heads and heartsboth they’re sure to win and she says you’re that sort ” — Sydney Daure. in Chicaao Standard. Pass Out fit the Rear Door. A conductor of the fast train of the Susquehanna division of the Erie Rail way has his brakeman say, after an nouncing the name of each station, “Passengers will pass out the rear door to the station.” Much has been said of the desirableness of uniformity in enter ing and leaving railway car?, but it is prooable that it will never be secured until trainmen adopt the plan of the Erie conductor to whom reference is here made. It was noticeable that almost without exception the request as to exit at the rear door of the car was observed, leaving the front door of each car free for the entrance of passengers at each Mation. The plan not only saves time, but it prevents the jostling which is so disagreeable to everybody.— N. 1 • and Express. —The Connecticut new law requires that the doors of saloons be sca.ed by officials, every Sunday. Toads ana Frops. “ Early in the spring the marshes re sound with vocal noises, which many of you have doubtless been told were made by frogs. I tell you, however,” said Prof. Bickmorcto his attentive audience of school-teachers at the Museum of Natural History Saturday, “that these sounds most always come from the throats of toads, not frogs.” Only the male toad sings, and, when visitors to the country seat themselves on door steps in the pleasant evenings of May and June to listen to the singing of the frogs in a neighboring mill-pond, they are in reality listening to the singing of male toads. 'The curious process of natural development in frogs and toads was fully described and illustrated by Prof. Biekmore. Toads lay their eggs on the leaves of trees or plants that grow in the water or by the edge of ponds. When rains come the eggs are washed into the water, and there they undergo successive changes, until from little black balls they take on the form of small animate objects something the shape of a tad pole. The development then rapidly continues until full growth is attained. At first toads and frogs live on animal food, but as they approach their normal condition they evince a fondness for vegetable food as well. Animal feeders have very simple and straight alimen tary canals, while in vegetable feeders the alimentary canals assume a compli cated form. Not only are the changes in form among frogs and toads very curious, but sometimes they grow smaller after arriving at full growth. Most of the toads have tongues, but not all of them. 'The tongues are attached to the anterior part of the mouth, and point down the throat. A toad takes its food into the mouth by a quick mo tion of the tongue, somewhat resembling the snapping of a whip. A frog’s skin, the lecturer explained, is always smooth and soft, while a toad’s skin is covered ith disagreeable looking excresences. These excresences are filled with an acrid fluid of whitish color, which in a measure protects the toads from the storks and other birds and beasts that prey upon the frogs. Snakes are the toads’ worst enemies. A small snake can swallow a very large toad. Prof. Biekmore called attention to a singular kind of toad that was found in the northern part of South America. When the female lays her eggs the male toad takes them in his hand, one by one, and places them carefully upon the mother’s back. A soft glutinous ♦;>« a i-; n causes the tp firmly adhere and gradually they s nk into the female’s back and are covered over by a thin sk n. In due time the heads and arms of young toads make their way through this thin skin, and complete birth soon lollows. The Pro fessor gave a large number of interest ing illustrations of creatures belonging to'the class of Batrachians, and extract ed a great deal of instructive and en tertaining matter from a brief study of fossils and fossilized foot-prints in the mud of ages none by.—AT. Y. Times. Blasting Stamps. A correspondent inquires for the modus operandi of blasting stumps with dynamite. Make a hole an inch in di ameter, near the stump, says the South ern Cultivator, inclining at an angle of about forty-five degrees, so as to reach underneath the body of the stump. This hole may be made with a crowbar through the soil, but if there be a large tap-root it will be necessary to continue the hole into the body of the tap root by means of a long auger. A cartridge containing three or four ounces of dvnamite is then inserted to the bot tom of the hole and a slow match hav ing a peculiar percussion cap on the end is inserted in the cartridge. The holo is then tampered with earth, and when all is ready the outer end of the match is lighted and the operator retires to a safe distance. The explosion usually not only extracts the stump from the ground but tears it into pieces small enough to handle easily. The dynamite costs” about forty cents per pound, so that a three or four ounce charge with its fuse would cost about ten cents making the cost of Mowing up a stump about ten cents, beside the labor. A Little Close, Perhaps. Sam Egly is not precisely a close man, but he is a little frugal about his personal expenses. He lives out in the country, but he comes to Austin every once in a while to collect his rents, and on such occasions he makes an earnest effort to reduce his personal expenses to a minimum. He was in town a few j days ago. and Gilhooly met him. He looked very ill, as if he had been run ning for o 1 ce and been defeated. “What’s the matter, Bill?” “Matter enough. I haven’tbeen able to eat a bite they put on the table at the hotel I ani stopping at, and at ni’dit the bed-bugs nearly eat me up alive. I’ve lost ten pounds in three days.” . “Well, what do vou put up at a fifth rate hotel for when you come to Austin?” , , ••Because I don’t know where there is any sixth-rate hotel. Now, Gilhooly, if you know where there is a sixth-rate hotel, just let me know, and I’ll patron ize it. 1 can’t a'lord to spread myself at a tith-rate hotel if there is a sixth-rate hotel in the Texas Siblings. —As Rev. Spicher, the other Sunday, was descending the banks of a stream at the Dunkard Church, near Gettysburg, Indiana County, Pa., for the purpose of immersing a lady, he made a misstep and fell, throwing the lady and himself into the water, and but for the timely aid of some of the congregation, both would have been drowned. TEEMS'- SI.OOA YEA! FACTS AND FIHIIHES. —One vessel was lost at sea every f® ir hours during 1881, according to the English Nautical Gazette. In 1879-80 there were 400 steamboat collisions in the North Atlantic Ocean. —Switzerland has 1,237 cotton mills, employing 5.5,754 persons. There are 182 silk factories, employing 17,394 per sons: 4.5 woolen factories, with 2,447 linudSy and 7 linen works, with 678 hands. —The Massachusetts Society for the Promotion of Agriculture awarded prizes during the years named for re markable one-acre pot ato crops in Mas sachusetts as follows: 1817, 402 bush els; 1818, 498 bushels; 1819, 535 bush els; 1820, 670 bushels; 1821, 551 J bush els: 1822, 547 bushels; 1823, 688} bush els. —The City Government of New York is an expensive thing. There are 5,981 persons in the service of the corpora tion, who receive salaries amounting to $7,511,013.71. not including 3,151 per sons employed by the Board of Educa tion, with salaries aggregating $2,718,- 257.92, and a host of day laborers and temporary clerks.—N. F. Mail. —l ate accounts from California no tice the groat increa e in the size of the vineyards there. A plantation of 200 acres u-ed to be considered a large vineyard; now vineyards of 500 and 600 acres are not uncommon, and one of ],500 acres was recently planted near Los Angeles. It is expected that in three years or so California will possess vineyards of 5,000 or 6,000 acres in ex tent. The total number of acres at present devoted to vine culture is esti mated at about 100,000, all of which will be bearing in about four years’ time, and producing about forty or fifty million gallons annually. —Dr. J. Woo Hand writes to the Lancet that, having had his attention directed to sever . 1 cases of great irritation of the feet: nd legs, causing small pustules to arise and the skin to subsequently ex foliate. and suspicion being fastened upon red stockings which the patients wore, he c ircfully analyzed them. He found a tin salt which is used as a mor dant in fixing the dye. He succeeded in obtaining as much as 22.8 grains of this metal in the form of the dioxide, and as each time the articles are washed the tin salt is rendered more easily soluble, the acid excretions from the feet attack the tin oxide, thus forming an irritating fluid. —The record of Montanafor 1882 will UIIUH H-A-* *•- - - —'•* —Jt railroad, an increase of 15,000 perma nent residents, and the establishment of peace among the red men. The bullion product will aggregate $8,000,000 in value, while 50,000 nead of cattle and 3,000,000 pounds of wool will be mar keted. The harvests have been abun dant and prices better than foryears, and some 50,000 acres have been added to the cultivated area. Nearly 100,000 head of cattle and 150,000 head of sheep have been put upon the vast stock ranges in addition to the regular in crease from herds formerly there, and over and above these evidences of pros perity is the prediction of a geologist that Montana will one day be the great est coal-producin<r State in the Union. The Gold Product of California. The gold product of California, from the discovery of the precious metal by James W. Marshall, in the tail-race of Sutler’s Mill, January 19, 1848, to June 30, 1881, amounted to $1,170,- 000,000. Os this sum $900,000,000 is estimated to have been extracted from the auriferous placers. The remainder represents the yield of gold-quartz mines, of which the State contains many. The yearly product of gold in California is "from $15,000,000 to $20,- 000,000. From the date of discovery to 1861 inclusive, the gold product of Cal ifornia aggregated $700,000,000, derived chiefly from the modern river-beds and shallow placers. A large proportion of the remaining $200,000,000 has been ob tained in the deep gravel deposits, by the hydraulic method. Strange as it may appear, an industry which has con tributed so largely to the wealth of the world, and has been the means of the settlement and development of Califor nia, has reached a period in its history when it is claimed by a large portion of the community to be a greater evil than blessing, and the question of suppress ing the hydraulic method of gold-min ing has been the subject of earnest dis cussion in and out of the halls of legis lation. The law has been invoked to suppress or control it. Even the State, through its Attorney-General, has com menced a suit to suppre s it. The trouble grows out of the immense amount of debris which the hydraulic miners a e discharging constantly into the water-courses of the State.— The Century. “Young man,” said a college pro fessor to an under-graduate who had asked for and obtained leave of absence to attend his grandmother’s funeral— “young man, I find, ou looking over the records, that this is the fifth time you have been excused to attend the funeral of your grandmother. Your leave of absence is therefore revoked. Your grandmother must get herself buried without you this time.” —Governor Blackburn, of Kentucky, leads ol in the pardon business. Dur ing his administration of nearly four ye'ars he has pardoned more than 1,500 criminals, remitted fines of more than $2,000,000 and granted respites toother fines to the amount of some $1,000,000. —Chicas'i Herald,