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THE % INCOLNTON NEWS
J. D. OOLLEY & CO.,
YOL. I.
MACHINERY DEPOT.
W.'J. POLLARD,
MANUFACTURER and MANUFACTURERS’ AGENT.
manufacturer of
W. J. Pollard’s Champion Cotton Gin
Feeders & Condensers,X Smith’s Hand Power Cotton KHay Press,
General Fairbanks agent for Grain Standard Threshers and Separators Talbot and <fc Agricultural Sons’ Agricultural, Imple¬
ments, <fc Co.’s Scales, etc.
Portable and Stationary and Steam Engines and Boilers, Saw Mills, Grist
Mills, etc. C. A Watertown G, Cooper Agricultural, A Co.’s Traction Portable Engines, and Stationary Portable and Agricul¬
gines, tural Engines, Saw Millsj ete.'f. GoqdaU A Waters’ Wood Working Machinery. Steam En¬
W. L.
Bradley’s Standard Fertilizers. The Dean Steam Pump. Kreible’s Vibrating
Cylinder Steam Engines. Otto’s Silent Gas Engines. Acme Pulverizing Har¬
row, Clod Crusher and Leveler.
MACHINERY OF ALL KINDS.
Beltin g, Packing, BrasAFittings, Iron Fittings, Iron Pipe, Rubber Hose and
everyt Ring that Tools can of be all used Kfids, on Hancock or about Inspirators, machinery. Cotton Finally, Mill Supplies a
specialty. the machine business-a complete and will etc. I desire to
make success, guarantee to furnish
everything house wanted in,the,Country.' in'that line My on as stock reasonable is the largest terms and and at as short notice
as any most varied of any
house South. My connection With some of the largest manufactories in the
United States gives me superior advantages for furnishing the best and most
reliable work foand ahywhere. Be certain to call on
“W- CFsr jARD,
731, 734 & 736 Reynolds Street,
AUGUSTA 9 “ GEORGIA
WONDERFUL BARGAINS
. £•;?
IN
■i -
FURNITURE.
If we don’t Beat New York Prices we will
Give You a NICE SET.
ti. '
- ,
Y
The Largest and Finest Stock ever offered
in Augusta. Five carloads just received.
All the Latest Styles and Prices Cheaper
than Ever. WE DEFY COMPETITION*
Onr New Catalogue will be Ready in Ten
Days. Write for one.
J. L. BOWLES & CO.,
? •
717 AND 839 BROAD STREET,
AUGUSTA, CA.
JAMES HINES
SUCCESSOR TO
P. H. NOROTN,
.
Washington - - G-a.,
—DEALEC IN—
Groceries* and PMatian suplies.
’v* 7 '
Bagging and Ties, Meat and
Lard, Flour of the Best Grade,
ron, Plows, &c., Salt, Leather,
&c., Provisions of "all Sorts.
The Reputation of the House shall be
Maintained. “ The Best Goods at the Lowest
Living Rates.” ' ■
At Mrs. N.Bruffl Clark’s
Ladies will find New and Stylish Neck
wjsab. Look at the Febne Laces. They
must be seen to be appreciated.
The Latest Styles in Hals .and Bonnets re¬
ceived weekly during the season.
Our Mourning Bonnets and Crepe Veils
are keep unsurpassed best in quality and price. We
New Ribbons—-every English Crepe3, new Lisse Rnching,
ity. width, color and qual
Black Silk Gloves, Monrnihg wear; Chil
ttren New s Styles; Hosiery CorsetB, in excellent quality—some
Bridal Veiling Hoop Skirts, Tour
mures. and Gloves; all kinds
of kinds. Veiling, Brussel’s Nets- Nets of all
Great variety of Laoes— Black, White and
Cream. Embroidery Silk, best Knitting
Silk, Sewing Silk, Buttons in latest styles,
New Jewelry, Lusterlesa Jet Bracelets, Ear¬
rings, other Fins, <fcc., Coin Silver Jewelry and
Work, styles Lace entirely new; Material for Fancy
Pillow Shams, Splashers, &c.
New Hair Goods—pretty and -becoming
styles. “Polo”Caps, • - ... >.
ter" Caps—m the “Fez”Caps, for “TamO’Shan- Children.
new colors
Hand-Knitted Goods for Infants, Infants’
Caps Pansy in Lace, Velvet and Satin. Our Stock
*f Goods is too varied to itemize.
We are prepared to famish anything iu
the Millinery Line, and to fill orders
tended, promptly. to Orders from the oountry at¬
DHAPPomi. as Our soon as received. We never
ties find friends in adjacent coun¬
will it to their interest to send to ns.
We will make any purchases for them in the
eity free of commission.
819 We Broad guarantee Prices and Quality.
Street is the place to obtain:
Stylish , Articles for Lady’s Toilet.
a
Give ns a call.
THE AUGUSTA, ELBERTON AND CHIC4GO RAILROAD.
samuel h. myers,
SUCCESSOR TO
MYERS & MARCUS,
838 &840 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GA
WHOLESALE JOBBER OF DRY GOODS, NO¬
TIONS, SHOES, HATS AND CLOTHING.
J. M. ANDERSON,
COTTON FACTOR
—AND—
Commission Morshant,
—AT THE—
Old Stand of R. A Fleming,
903 Reynolds Street, Augusta, Ga.
Personal T. Love attention Fuller, well given known to all in business. Lincoln,
so
and who for many years has been with
Young &Hack, is in charge, and will be glad
to see his many friends.
Murphey, Harmon & Co.,
NCOLNTON, GA.,
TOMBSTONES, MONUMENTS
PUT UP TO LAST.
Work Guaranteed,
Refer to their work throughout Lincoln
county.
I*rices yery Low.
P. HANSBERGER,
-MANUFACTURER OF—
CIGARS,
-AND DEALER IN—
Tobacco, Pipes and
Smokers’ Articles.
Cigarettes to the trade a specialty. Manu¬
factory on Ellis street. Fireworks by whole¬
sale.
706 Broad street, AUGUSTA, GA.
W. N. MERCIER,
COTTON FACTOR AND
General Cnuoi Mercian,
No. 3 Warren Block,
Augusta, Ga.
Will give personal and undivided atten
tion to the Weighing and Selling of Cotton
Liberal Cash Advanoes made on Consign
monte.
LINCOLNTON, GA., FRIDAY, JUNE 22, 1883.
The Old Clock.
i.
The old clock croons on the nm-kissed wall—
Tick, tock! tick, took!
The merry second to minutes call;
Tick, took! ’Tis mom!
A maiden sits at the mirror there,
And smiles as she braids her golden hair
Ob, in the light bnt her face is Hair!
Tick tock! tick, tock!
Far over the sea the good ship brings
The lover of whom the maiden sings;
From the orange tree the first leaf springs;
Tick, tock! tick tock!
ii.
The old clock langhs on the flower-decked Wall
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
The rose-winged hoars elude their thrall;
Tick, tock! ’Tis noon!
The lover’s pride and his love are blest;
The maiden is folded to his breast;
On her brow the hoi; blossoms rest;
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
Ob, thrice, thrice long may the sweet bells
cbime
As echoing this thro’ future time!
Still to my heart beats that measured rhyme—
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
HI.
The old clock moans on the crumbling wall—
Tick, tock! tick tock!
The drear years into eternity fall;
Tick, tock! Tis night!
The thread that yon spider draws with care
Across the gleam ol the mirror there
Seems like the ghost of a golden hair;
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
The sweet bells chime for those who may wed;
The neroli-snows crown many a head—
Bnt tree and maiden and lover are dead.
Tick, tock! tick, tock!
—Guy Carleton in Life.
THE DOOR-STEP.
Hannah Gneldt leaned upon her
broom and looked out from the
low kitchen door across the wintry
fields and ice-glazed streamlet which
lay between her home and the village
of Greenock, with its one tapering
spire and sloping roofs and blank
white walls, bare now of the summer
verdure. She had done her household
work, poliahed every article capable of
polish .and »oaped and sanded all the
rest. At the last she had swept clean
her door-stone and now felt free to do
what she choose, to rest or gossip or sit
down to needle-work—a thing impos¬
sible to hep while a spot beneath
her roof was«ut of order. Just now
she felt like neither gossiping or sew¬
ing; her heart was very full, and she
found it necessary to stand still and
think awhile. Only that she was not
used to it, she would have cried, she
was so very sad. It seemed to her
that the happiest people were those
who lay in their green graves in the
churchyard, with crossed hands upon
their bosoms, and felt quiet from all
earthly going to and fro for evermore.
Not that Hannah Gheldt was tired
in body or weary with the toil of
household duty; for she was strong in
frame, and her health was perfect as
her hands were willing. It was on
her humble heart the burden lay; her
spirit was worn with earthly travail.
“Twenty-three years to-day I’ve
been his wife,” she muttered, “and I’ve
loved him well and worked hard and
faithful to keep things decent, and it
has come to this at last. Things
had been better,” said she, “if he’d
married Miss Lester.”
Yes, that was what Farmer Gneldt,
harassed by toil and debt, had said that
very morning; and it seemed to Han¬
nah like the confession of long re¬
pentance, forced from her husband’s
lips at last. him,’’
“Poor man! I wish I could help
she sighed, leaning on her broom be¬
side the door. “I doubt he’s right
about Miss Lester.”
With that her eyes fell and rested
by chance on the door-step.
“I can mend that, anyhow,” she
said, “and I have time, for work ’is
done.”
So she hung the broom up and
peeped into the oven and set the kettle
on and then, hooded and shawled,
crossed the fields to where the farm
joined that of Simeon Gray.
On one spot were men at work
breaking up stones lying about.
Hannah Gneldt nodded to the old far¬
mer, and he came to meet her.
“I want a stone,” she said, “May I
have one?”
“I wish you’d take ’em all” said the
farmer. “A lot of rubbish. You see
I’m clearing away what they call the
old graveyard at last Wife talks to
me o’ sacrilege and disturbin’ bones
Bless you, there ain’t been none for
years; and these hard times men can’t
let land go to waste. I tell wife she
don’t know nothin’ about it. What do
you want to do? Have a bit around
the well?”
“No, I want a step,” said Hannah.
“That great white one is just the
thing.” And she pointed to a slab
hard by.
“Ike shall bring it over to-night,’’
said the farmer.
“No," said Hannah, “I can roll it
along.”
"I wish I could tell what that was,”
she said. “Some one’s age and name.
Ah! there were sore hearts what that
was new. I hope when I die Oliver
will have written over me that I was
a good wife. I’ve tried to be. I ought
to know that big letter—wait a bit; I
believe it’s Z.”
Then she turned the inscriptisa
downward and washed the other side
clear and white and fitted it into place.
She received little credit for her
work. Oliver only muttered:
“You needn’t have published the
fact I couldn’t afford a porch to the
place.” And no one noticed the step
afterwards save Hannah, when she
scrubbed it.
Matters were very bad with the
Gneldts. Oliver brooded over the fire
in speechless sorrow and grew graver
and balder with each passing day.
Hannah kept ruin off a little by mak.
ing a home of the poor house and a
feast of the humble fare by her house
wife’s skill. She might even have
been cheerful but for the memory of
that luckless speech.
Working in her garden one day when
the first spring grass was growing
green, Hannah heard footsteps, and
lifting her head, saw two gentlemen
beside her and arose precipitately. The
nearest gentleman, an elderly man with
bright, dark eyes, addressed her:
“Mrs. Gneldt, I presume.”
“Yes, sir.”
She asked him to walk in, and he
did so, the other following. In the lit¬
tle parlor they sat down.
“You are Mrs. Hannah Gneldt, Oli¬
ver Gneldt’s wife?”
“Yes, sir; it is about—about—ex¬
cuse me, you look like a lawyer, and I
fear it is more trouble for Oliver.”
“Re-assure yourself, madam,” said
the gentleman; “re-assure yourself,
madam. Your husband is not con¬
cerned, save through you, and that, I
hope, pleasantly. Your name was
Burns before you were married.”
“Yes, sir; Hannah Burns.”
“Do you remember dates well?”
“No, sir."
“You have, perhaps, a record of
family events—your own birth, your
parent’s marriage, your grandfather’s
death?”
Hannah Gneldt wonderingly replied,
“I have mother’s Bible, and they tell
me it’s all there.”
“How far back ?”
“To grandfather’s birth, I believe—
Grandfather Burns. He had one
child, and I am the only one my pa¬
rents ever had. Oliver set down our
wedding day and our two boys’ birth¬
days.”
“And your great-grandfather—the
record’of his death is there?”
“I don’t know; you may see. Wait
I’ll call Oliver.”
Going to the door, Hannah took
down a horn used for that purpose and
uttered a call, which brought Oliver
Gneldt home from the field at once.
He also felt alarmed, but explanations
quieted him. Almost as much aston¬
ished as his wife, he brought out the
Bible.
“The death of my wife’s great¬
grandfather, Zebulon Burns, is not
here,” he said. “The first record is in
his hand, I believe. It is the birth of
his eldest child.”
So it proved, and the lawyer looked
disappointed.
“You cannot remember the day of
his death?” he said. “I mean the date
of the month?”
“He died long before I was born,”
said Hannah, “and, though rich, left
nothing to grandfather. They had
quarreled, I believe. He told odd sto¬
ries of him. He must have been very
eccentric, and a servant or housekeeper
had great influence over him; she had
all the property. Margery — Mar¬
gery—”
“Margery Wilber, I think,” said the
lawyer.
“Yes,” said Hannah. “I remember
now.”
“You are quiet people, not likely to
talk too much,” said the lawyer. “I
will tell you something. We have
found, something. We have found a
will among the effects. He died in a
fit of apoplexy. Don’t hope too much,
mind. A will in your favor, as your
father’s only child. It was written by
him on his death-bed, dated 10th of
March, 17—, and leaves all his prop¬
erty to your father, his grandson, then
a boy. Hush! don’t hope too much.
Margery Wilbur or her heirs now hold
this property under a will dated March
15th, 17—.”
“A later will,” said Oliver. “Then
of course, they are the rightful pos,
sessors. What need of all this? The
latest must stand.”
“Not if it is a forgery,” said the law
yer.
Oliver laughed the bitter laugh of
care and disappointment.
“Who can prove that?” he said.
“No one, perhaps. Yet the record
of the old man’s death might. A man
whose dying hand signed a will on the
10th of March would scarcely nske an¬
other on the 15th. We believe the
will a forgery, written on old f arch
ment. Since the discovery of the one
I have spoken of Margery Wilber took
possession with legal forms, for no one
appeared to test her title. Where was
your great-grandfather buried?”
“Here,” said Hannah. “They say
he was brought down at his request —
Mrs. Wilber as chief mourner, and his
son—grandfather—not even sent for.
An old graveyard somewhere. Oh
Oliver! Oliver!”
She turned quite white, and uttered
a cry, “Oliver, that must be the grave¬
yard on Gray’s place that he dug over
last winter in the warm spelL”
“Then it is gone,” said Oliver. “And
our last hope with it. No, gentlemen
good luck would never come upon us.
Poverty means to cling to us to the
last. I wish you had better clients.”
“Oliver! Oliver!” grasped Hannah
Gneldt, “tell me one thing. Zebulon
was great grandfather’s name. Zebu¬
lon is spelled with a Z, isn't it? Oh.
do speak!”
“I think you are going mad, Han.
nah; of course of it is.”
“Oh, the big Z, I remember iv so
well. I know it was Z; and it would
have been broken to pieces before
npw. Oliver, don’t you remember my
door-step that you were so angry at?
I believe it is my poor old great-grand¬
father’s tombstone. And not to know
it when I stared at the great Z!”
Oliver Gneldt said nothing. He
feared his wife’s brain was turned, and
that made him faint and cold as he fol¬
lowed her into the garden and there
watched while the three others lifted
at the flat slab.
It lay before them on the green
spring grass, black letters on the white¬
ness, and bending over it they read
aloud:
“Zebulon Burns. Born May,-
Died March 14th, 17—with eulogis¬
tic verses, with long s’s, underneath,
as in duty bound. •
“It’s poor grandfather’s,” said Han¬
nah. And the lawyer extended his
hands, grasping those of Oliver and his
wife.
“The proof is found,” he said; “the
latest will is a forgery, for it is dated
the day after the old man’s death.
Mrs. Gneldt is heiress to a large prop¬
erty. I congratulate you.”
And Hannah, with her head on her
husband’s shoulder, whispered: “OIL
ver, it wouldn’t have been better to
have married Miss Lester, after all.”
Women ana Children.
The United States census statistics
relating to “gainful” occupations show
some significant results as to the em¬
ployment of women and children. The
whole number of females reported as
pursuing gainful occupations in the
United States in 1870 was 1,836,288.
In 1880 the number was 2,647,157,
showing an increase during the ten
years of 810,869. This result shows
that the number of females engaged
in occupations has increased at a much
higher rate than the female popular
tion, and also at a higher rate than the
number of males pursuing occupa¬
tions. It further appears that the rate
of increase in the number of females
pursuing occupations has been far
higher in manufacturing and mechani¬
cal industries—that is, in factories
chiefly—than in any other kind of em¬
ployment.
Similar results are shown by the cen.
sus statistics with reference to the em
ployment of children. In 1870 the
whole number between ten and fifteen
years of age reported as pursuing gain¬
ful occupations was 739,164. In 1880
the number was 1,118,356, or an in¬
crease during the decade of 379,192
The rate of this increase was greater
than the rate of increase in the popu¬
lation between those ages, and it was
also greater than the rate of increase
in the number of adults pursuing gain¬
ing occupations. As in the case of
women, so in tiie case of children, the
rate of increase in the number em¬
ployed has been greatest in factories.
Nearly three hundred thousand more
women, and about sixty thousand more
children, were employed in manufac¬
turing industries iu 1880 than in 1870>
—New York Herald.
Babbit Transit.
The vicinity of Austin is very hilly
and rocky, and abounds in rabbits. A
little boy, who had not been long in
the place undertook to capture a rab¬
bit. He chased the animal up a steep
hill, but when he undertook to follow
it down the other side he lost his bal¬
ance and got a bad fall When the
boy came home in a used-up condition,
his mother asked him what he had
been doing.
“I had such a nice race with a rab.
bit.”
“Well, which of you won the race.”
“Going up the hill the rabbit was
ahead, but in coming down on the oth
er side I beat the rabbit.”
r n VTB.
A Beautiful Illustration of Its Power.
The following beautiful illustration
of the power of truth, is from the pen
of S. H. Hammond, formerly editor of
the Albany State Register. He was an
eye-witness of the scene in one of the
higher courts of New York.
A little girl, nine years of age, was
offered as witness against a prisoner,
who was on trial for a felony commit¬
ted in her father’s house.
“Now, Emily,” said the counsel for
the prisoner, upon her being offered as
a witness, “I desire to know if you
understand the nature of an oath?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” was
the simple answer.
“There, your honor,” said the coun¬
sel, addressing the court, “is anything
further necessary to demonstrate the
validity of my objection? This wit¬
ness should be rejected. She does not
comprehend the nature of an oath.”
“Let us see,” said the judge. “Come
here, my daughter.”
Ajssured by the kind tone and man¬
ner of the judge, the child stepped
toward him, and looked confidingly up
into his face with a calm, clear eye,
and with a manner so artless and
frank that -4t went straight to the
heart
“Did you ever take an oath ?’ in¬
quired the judge. The little girl step¬
ped back with a look of horror, and
the red blood mantled in a blush all
over her face as she answered:
“No, sir.”
She thought that he intended to in¬
quire if she ever blasphemed.
“I do not mean that,” said the judge,
vho saw her mistake; “I mean, were you
ever a witness before?”
•‘No, I never was in court before,”
was the answer.
He handed her the Bible, open.
“Do you know that book, my daugh¬
ter?”
She looked at it and answered, “Yes,
sir; it is the Bible.”
“Do you ever read it ?” he asked.
“Yes, sir; every evening.”
“Can you tell me what the Bible is?”
Inquired the judge.
“It is the word of the great God,”
she answered.
“Well, place your hand upon this
Bible, and listen to what I say;” and
he repeated slowly and solemnly the
oath usually administered to wit¬
nesses.
“Now,” said the judge, “you have
sworn as -witness, will you tell me
what will befall you if you do not tell
the truth?”
“I shall be shut up in State prison,”
answered the child.
“Anything else?” asked the judge.
“I shall never go to heaven,” she
replied.
“How do you know this?” asked the
judge again.
The child took the Bible and turn¬
ing rapidly to the chapter containing
the commandments, pointed to the in¬
junction, “Thou shalt not bear false
witness against thy neighbor.” “I
learned that before I could read.
“Has anyone talked with you about
your being a witness here against this
man?” inquired the judge.
“Yes, sir,”, she replied. “My
•mother heard they wanted me to be a
witness, and last night she called me
to her room and asked me to tell her
the ten commandments, and then we
kneeled down together, and she prayed
that I might understand how wicked
it was to bear false witness against my
neighbor, and that God would help me,
a little child, to tell the truth as it was
before Him. And when I came up
here with father, she kissed me, and
told me to remember the ninth com¬
mandment, and that God would hear
every word that I said.”
“Do -you believe this?” asked the
judge, while a tear glistened in his eye
and his lips quivered with emotion.
“Yes, sir,” said the child, with a
voice and manner that showed her con¬
viction of the truth was perfect.
“God bless you, my child,” said the
judge; “you have a good mother.
This witness is competent ” he con¬
tinued. “Were I on trial for my life
and innocent of the charge against me,
I would pray to God for such witness¬
es as this. Let her be examined.”
She told her story with the simplici¬
ty of a child, as she was, but there was
a directness about it that carried con.
viction of its truth to every heart.
She was rigidly cross-examined. The
counsel plied her with indefinite and
ingenious questioning, but she varied
from her first statement in nothing.
The truth as spoken by that little
child was sublime. Falsehood and per¬
jury had preceeded her. The prisoner
had entrenched himself in lies. Wit¬
nesses had falsified facts in his favor
»nd villainy had manufactured for him
s sham defense. But before her testi¬
mony it was scattered like chaff. The
little child for whom the mother had
prayed for strength to be given to
speak the truth as it was before God,
broke the cunning devises of matured
PUBLISHERS.
NO. 36.
villi any like a potter’s vessel. The
strength that her mother prayed for
was given, and sublime and terrible
simplicity—terrible, I mean to the
prisoner and his associate — with
which she spoke, was like a revelation
from God himself.
MADE ITISANE BY EXILE.
A Banian Author’s Hard Fate—How he
Was Sentenced.
The New York Yolks-Zeitung has
information that Nicolai Spasskoff, a
Russian refugee who arrived in Vienna
recently, reports that Tschernyschews
kij, the Russian author who has been
for nineteen years an exile, has been
insane since the beginning of the year.
When Spasskoff saw him he was con¬
fined at Wilujsk, in the government of
Irkutsk. He was raving mad. Tscher
nyschewskij was banished for writing
the romance, “Schto Djelatj.” The
ceremony following upon his sentence
is thus described by an eye-witness:
It was on May 20, 1864. A largt
crowd was hurrying to the Kasai)
place at St. Petersburg, where a scaf¬
fold was erected, guarded by a detach¬
ment of soldiery. From far away I
could see the pillory overtopping the
scaffold and the surrounding crowd.
From the Kasan steeple the dock
struck nine, and at the same time from
a small alley leading to the Kasan
place a cart issued; it was painted
black and accompanied by two gend¬
armes. The cart made its way through
the crowd toward the scaffold. Two
men descended from it, one of whom
was an officer, the other a civilian, who
looked very pale. The officer beckoned
the civilian to mount the scaffold. Tha
pale man obeyed. He was received
upon the scaffold by two men, who
were standing near the pillory; they
wore red shirts and red caps, and were
the helpers of the hangman. One oS
them hung a blackboard about the
neck of the pale man. In white letters
these two words were painted upon
the blackboard: “Gossudarstwennyj
Prestupnik”—State Criminal. This
was, then, the official title of N. G.
Tsehernyschewskij, the beloved of Rus¬
sia’s youth! The officer took from his
pocket a paper and commenced reading
the sentence of the court, setting forth
that the Honorable Councillor Tscher
nyschewskij had been condemned to
serve fourteen years at hard labor in
the mines for having issued and circu¬
lated socialistic literature; and that;
having served his term, he would be
banished for life to Siberia. Having
finished with reading, the officer com¬
manded the prisoner to kneel down.
Tsehernyschewskij bent his knees, and
then two thin swords were broken
over his head, which was to signify
that he was now divested of his title,
honors, and citizen’s rights for all time
to come. At this moment a beautiful
bouquet was thrown to the“dishonored”
man of letters; a shower of bouquets
and flowers followed them from all
sides. The officer made Tschemys
chewskij stand up to the pillory that
he might not pick up any of the flow
ers.
From the scaffold he was hurried di¬
rectly to Nertschinsk in Siberia, where
he was compelled to dig in the mines
under a continual torture of blows
from the knout, and of mental and
physical deprivations, After those
seven years of agony he was sent from
one prison to the other until they drove
him crazy.
Bard and Soft Water.
The hardness or softness of water
depends upon the amount of mineral
ingredients which it contains. These
mainly consist of carbonate and sul¬
phate of 1 me, the former giving rise
to what is called temporary hardness
—it being for the most part removable
by continued boiling, whereby it be¬
comes inerusted as chalk on the inside
of the vessel in which the water is
boiled; and the latter to permanent
hardness, because it is not thus re¬
movable. A very hard water is inju¬
rious for drinking purposes because
its power as a solvent for food is im¬
paired, and because it is absorbed by
the stomach with greater difficulty
than a soft water, thus giving rise to
indigestion or dyspepsia. In addition
to the long train of distressing symp¬
toms which are included uuder the
term dyspepsia, there is strong evi¬
dence to prove that the habitual drink¬
ing of very hard water also gives rise
to goitre, a disease associated in many
places with that fearful form of idiocy
known as cretinism. In many parts
of England goitre is found to prevail
only in those districts where the mag¬
nesian limestone formation is abun¬
dant. In some districts in Switzerland
the use of certain spring waters of un¬
usual hardness has been followed by
the production of augmentation of the
disease in the course of a few days,
and similar results have frequently
been observed In India.—- Prof. Simp¬
son, if.