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(f oluit/liia Sjmiiiiiel.
~i ' •
haklem. Georgia
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY.
Bnllarcl <** AtUlnoon,
FROPBIKTOJU.
The two ii< l <’»t citizen* of W«*hing
ton are W. W. Corcoran, who ho given
■ ■nr I Itre*-: ■-nr h’ »« much :m he is now
vo t’i, nr» I John W Tliutnpwri, who if
one of lae most <■ tei j rifiug men in the
dlrtri't. C >r< m!«th - wcaltMe*t,*od
he if probably worth ueverul mill’on*.
He b»* given *w«y not lom than $13,000,-
000 or $14,000,000 in charitie*, arid he if
giving a i the t<m*'. H be/an life a* a
clerk in hi, father 1 * »ho More. Thomp
son ninth all his money in the plumbing
buont followed by real eatatc specu
late n».
I ;'tior.m< e, vio ntion of all sanitary
principles, niiaerablc poverty, the ex
treme rfgor of w.n'er, and neglect by
drunken parent* are ardd to be »om« of
th<- prlra ip-il reasons why out of 1,000
chiklr-n loin in Russia Mar ■ y 423 will
reach their twentieth birthday. Statis
tic* ah -w that 315 out of each 1,000 ilia
in the first five year*. The Russian
Goveroiiue t i- m -king mean* to diinlnirrh
tliis fiightiil infant mortality, but with
little lio|h- of rpeedy auc< <*«, since the
main < oi-i ian 'inly be eradicated by
the progressive cdui ntion an I reforma
tion of nut l eaMvc generation* of the
people.
Sir ifi-nry Thompson, mi eminent
English doctor think* that more than
half the diaeaac* that embitter life are
due to error* in diet, and that the
mischief done in the form of shortened j
life i* greater from indiscriminate eating
than from the use of alcoholic drink.
An over supply of nuttieian, which must
go somewhere, produce* liver discuses,
gout, rheumnt -in and various other
disorders, 'l l! eat too much is n blunder,
and too wash down nutricious food with
nutricloua drink is one of the greatest
diitnry indiscretions thnt. can be in
dulged, especially for persons of seden
tary habit*.
An E’mirn, N. Y., doctor has discov
ered that delicate persons live the long
est, and ho instances Mr. Tilden as a
good (sample of the truth of hi* hobby.
Strong, robust people say; “Oh, I can
stand anything; nothing will hurt me;"
■nd tin- iltst thing you know pneumonia
or some such disease takes them oil like
a flash. The ilelic.ito man or woman, on
the eonti.ary, i- alwayi guarding against
draughts, is careful during sudden
changes, mindful not to ent what ov|io
rience has taught him does not agree with
him, and by such cure extends and pro
long* life. The doctor adds that if ho
well to found an insurance company ho
would accept nil the risks rejected by
the r ; ulni r insurance companies. Why!
Hcaii.e of the theory that delicate men
live the longest.
The chief c ties of Australia continue
to grow nt a rat ■ only equalled in this
country. Melbourne now has a popula
tion of 335,000; Sidney nearly 230,000;
Adelaide, the capital of South Austra
lia, and B isbnnr, principal city of
Queensland, h ive each sont ■ 50,000, and
Auckland (New Zealand) has 00,000.
Ten of the biggest cities of the colonks
Contain out third of the entire colonial
population. The discovery of rich gold
field in western Australia has sent any
number of gold-seekers thither. The
fields are believed to embrace some 4000
square miles. It is thought that their
yield will surpass that of any other part
of the insular continent. The diamon 1
fli-ldsof New South Wales have developed
richly,and they bid fair to rival the field*
of Brazil and South Africa. In one
m ighltorhood 2400 stones, weighing in
the rough 025 carat*, h ive bei-u got by
four men in a month. Tho vastness of
the Australian <mpir • seems uot yet to
have be n half understood.
According to the Loudon Court Jour
na'. a wealthy iron master in the north
of England, w hose house and works are
daxzingly illuminated by electric light,
ha’ adopted nn ingenious contrivance by
which he may glean some information a*
to what goes on during his not-infre
quent absence* from how. In several
of hi* r. om* ami in his • offices there is
concealed apparatus m tho wall*, con
sisting of a roll of Eastman pa|>cr and a
train of clockwork. Every hour a shut
ter is silently opened by the machinery
■nd an instantaneous photograph is
taken of all that is going on in the
room On the great man's return he
delights to develop these pictures, and
it is said that they have furnished some
very strange information indeed. One
clerk, who received h s dismissal some
what unexpectedly, and boldly wauled
to know the reason why, was horrified
when shown aph tograph in which he
was depicted lolling in an easy chair,
-with his feet upon the office desk,
while. the clock on the mantelpiece
join ed to *n hour at which he ought to
have been at h * busiest. The servants'
party in the best dining room furnished
another thrilling scene.
I Th'- island of B irlwdoes, in the West
Indic*, is the must densely {lopulated
I part of the earth. This island, with an
l nn a ' f 1 <>(> G>)'> acre-, contains a popula
tion o over 175,b»0 souli, that is t > »ay,
nn average of not les* than 1054 people
to ea hos it* IM square mile* of terri-j
tory. The Chim-*'- ptovinceof Ke.-mgsu,
wbiih was ut one time ignorantly im
agined to be the most uncomfortably
crowded district under the *un, contain*
but HSG moon-eyed celestial* to the
square mil'-, whil Eist Flander*, in Bel
gium, the most th < kly populated neigh
borboo I in Europe, can boast of only
70i inii i’> taut* to the qire mile. If
tin- Euipir: -t.de were ns thickly settled
as B»:b ido-is it would boast a popula-|
lion of GO.OOO 000. Os the 175,000 soul* |
in this island nin p» cent, uro whites’
ind ninety-one per cent, are black* or |
m.xea blood.
boring a severe thunder-storm which
passed over central Norway recently, a
remirkiblc example of the power of
lightning was witnessed. In a field at
Loiten a fir tree eighty feet in height
was struck by lightning some twelve feet
from the ground, with the effect that
the tree was cut in halves, and the upper ‘
portion -about sixty fret in length—
throw n a distance of »-veral ynr I*. The
most curious part is, however, that the
surface of the detached part is as smooth
as if the tree ha 1 been sawed through,
while that of the stump remaining in the
gimiiid is jagged, charred, and splintered
to the root. The ground around the
tree is furrowed in al! directions, one
being rev- r d feet in width and depth,
■nd extending for some ten yards. A
spruce tree close by “hows a furrow an
inch in width, running from a height of
six fiet down to the root.
Among the prisoners confined in the
coun'y jail nt Atlanta, On., was a Heard
county murderer named Smith, who had
been nn illicit di-tilh-r in the days before
he was imprisoned. Smith had in his
cell a small stove and a kettle, and his
first work on entering jail was to impro- j
vise n worm and a .still, getting tho dif
ferent articles nt dilT -rent times. The
worm was made of an india-rubber tube. 1
Tin- prisoners in his cell would save up
their corn bread until a sufficient quan
tity hn I been obtained, when the distil
ler would make a fair article of corn 1
wbi key. Tho secret was well kept by
the prisoners, who were thus enabled to
got thiir dram occasionally. The officers
of the jail tasted it for the first time one
day recently, and declared that they had
drank worse whiskey. Au attempt at an j
escape led to the investigation which de- |
veloped the existence of the still.
Night Life mill Character.
One night often destroys n whole life.
Tho leakage of the night keeps the day
forever empty. Night is sin’s harvest 1
time. More sin and < rime are committed
in one night than in all the days of the |
week. This is more emphatically true
in the city than the country. Tho street
lamps, like u file of soldiers with torch
in band, stretch away in long linos on |
either sidewalk ; the gay colored trnns
pa cncies are ablaze with attractions; the
saloon and billard halls are brilliantly
illuminated; music s uds forth its en
chantment; the gay company begins to
gather to tho haunts and houses of
pl-asure; tho gambling dens are aflame
with palatial splendor; the theatres are
wide open ; the mills of destruction ;.re
grinding health, honor, happiness and
hope out of a thousand lives. The city
under the gaslight is not the same as
under God’s sunlight. Night life in our
cities is a dark problem whose depths
a id abysses and whirlpools make us start
back with horror. All night long tears
■re fulling, blood is streaming. Young
men tell me how and where you spend
your evenings, and I will write you a
chart of your character and final destiny,
with blanks to insert your names. It
seems to mo an appropriate text would
b?: "Watchman, what of the nights”
Policeman, pacing thy beat, what of the
nights What are the young men of the
city doing nt night? Who are their asso
ciates? What are their habits? Where
do they go in, and what time do they
come out? Policeman, would the night
life of young men commend them to the
c nlidence of thor employers? Would
it bo to their ere lit? Make a record of
the uights of one week. Put in the
morning p i|x'rs the names of all young
men, their habits an 1 haunts, that are
on the (trvets for sinful pleasure Would
there not In 1 sham.- and confusion f
Seine would not dare to go to their
place* of business; some would not dare
to come home at night; some would
leave the city; some would commit sui
cide. Remember, young men, that in
the return of the All-Seeing Eye there is
nothing hid but shall be revealed on the
last day.—WiafcAnuM.
Nhe Recalled One Ren* irk.
"Julia, 1 can’t see how you can stand
that Joe Baseomb.”
“Why, Fanny f’
“Oh, he’s such a mope! One can
hardly get a word out of h:tn.”
"He doesn’t talk much, that’s a fact.
I can only recall one thing that ho said
to tne l»»t evening. It was an exceed
ingly sensible remark, however.”
“What w as it he mid t ’
“11* said 'L.-t’s get some ice-cream."’
The Twa Licht*.
‘‘When I’m a man,’ the stripling cries,
An<i *trive* the cowing years to (can,
"Ah, then I shall be strong an-l wise,
When I’m a man.”
"When I was young," the old man «igb»,
“Bravely the lark and 1 nnet sung
Their carol under sunny skies,
When I was young.”
“When I’m a man I sliall txi fro*
To guard the right, the truth uphold."
“W> an I was young I bent no knee
To j ower or gold."
“Then shall I satisfy my soul
With yonder prize, when I’m a mao.’’
"Too late I found how vain the goal
To wh ch I ran."
"When I’m a man these idle toy*
Aside forever shall be flung.”
"Ttere was no jioison in my joy*
When I was young.”
The boy’s bright dream is all befor*
The man’s romance li> s far bebiu
Had we the present and no more,
Fate were unkind.
But, brother, toiling in the night.
Still count yourself not all unblr
If in the East there gleams a light,.
Or in the West
Ulackwo<>d'» Magazine.
THE KISS.
A CHARMING LEGEND OF COPENHAGEN.
There is nt the Court of King Christian
of Dciirnark an Equerry, high in favor.
This gentleman is called Paul Wcndel
boc, Baron Lenwenenrue.
And there has been at the Court of
Denmark an Equerry called Paul Wen
delboe, Baron Lenwenenrue, for more
than 200 years.
The presence of this perennial Equer
ry is accounted for in a sweet and simple
legend, having for its basis just an inno
cent little kiss.
At the university in Copehagen there
sojourned, something more than 200
years ago, a youth named Paul Wen
delboe.
He was the son of a poor clergyman,
who, in a distant. Danish province, for
forty years had lived and preached the
Word and done the work of his Master,
in humble content, in a poor and tiny
hamlet.
It was the hope of this good clergyman
that, when in the fullness of time, he
should be called to rest from his labors,
his son Paul should succeed him.
To this end Paul had been, w th much
pinching and privation, sent to the uni
versity at Copenhagen to complete his
education.
But Master Paul did not desire to em
ulate his father.
He longed to travel.
To see the world of whose wonders
and beauties he had read and heard so
much.
This desire had grown and strength
ened every hour, having been fed by the
talk of his two chosen comrades, who,
more fortunate than our hero in having
fathers rich in this world’s goods, intended
at tlie close of their school probation to
set out together on their travels to see
the world.
The academic year had ended.
The day—full of triumphs for Paul,
who had passed the examinations witli
honor had ended.
But his triumphs brought him no hap
piness.
The morrow would see him bid adieu
to his two young friends, who for a year
had been his constant companions, shar
ing his sudies, his sports, his sorrows,
his hopes.
To-morrow they would go together—
out into that beautiful, unknown world.
They would look upon the glories of
art, of which he had only obtained cold
glimpses through the pages of books.
They would be face to face with na
ture in all her moods—her beauties would
be unfolded to them.
They would mingle in the great drama
of which the world was the stage.
Perhaps!—Oh, glorious thought!—
They would draw their swords in some
of the great battles that from time to
time convulsed that grand, unknown
world.
While he, alone, must turn towards
the white face of the north; must take
up his duties with a heart as cold as her
clime.
Must forever close his eyes against beau,
ty, his heart against ambition.
He mourned like a boy. But he kept
silence like a man.
As the sun went down and the long
sweet twilight of the white land began,
the three friends set out for a farewell
walk.
They selected their favorite route, the
wall surrounding the town.
Occasionally across the gay talk, filled
with the brightness of youth and hope,
there would float a sigh from our poor
h -ro, which wou.d be laughed back into
shadow-land by his gay young com
rades.
As they sauntered on they spied at the
window of a stately old house a face, all
framed in by the flowers that grew and
flourished there.
It was the face of a fair young girl.
No rose was ever sweeter than those
Ups and cheeks.
No lily was ever fairer than that cool
white brow.
No j amine ever sweeter than the look
of innocence and peace that rested like a
halo round that head.
In the careless recklessness of happy
youth the eemrade* of our hero said to
him, if he would go and claim ■ k:s* of
that fair maiden a* she stood among her
flower* he should join them on their
travel*.
Go where they went, see what thev
saw, enjoy what they enjoyed.
Without a word Paul left his wild
companions.
Went to the mansion in whose case
ment gleamed this beauteous jewel of
maidenhood, and sounded a summons.
His summons was answered by the
maid herself, who, in her*weet humility,
never dreaming she was tho object of
hi* quest, said her father, the professor,
was absent from home, but would short
ly return.
Then our brave young hero told her it
was not her father, but herself he
sought.
There, standing on the threshold, he
told her of his comrade’s offer—told her
of his wish—his wild, insatiable thirst
to travel —to see the beautiful, the un
known world.
With eyes cast down and with never a
word, the maiden listened. And when
he had finished, still without a word,she
took him by the hand and led him to
the window where the flowers bloomed
upon the sill. And there, with eyes up
lifted to his, and in the sight of his com
rades, she offered him her lips all dewy
with innocence and truth.
Then with a murmured blessing she
led him forth.
The next morning three young gentle
men set out to travel and see the world.
After five years again there was a sum
mons at the door of the house where
dwelt the beauteous maiden with her
father, the old professor.
But this time the visitor was a young
gentleman bronzed with travel and at
tired in the gorgeous uniform of an
officer high in rank.
Again the maiden answered the sum
mons, and, as before, in sweet humility,
she said, “My father is not within,
sir."
The young gentleman made answer as
did the youth five years before. It was
not her father, but herself he sought.
He asked her if she remembered the
youth on whom she had bestowed a
kiss.
Remembered him 1
With blushes and eyes cast down, she
answered, “Yes.”
Then ho led her to the room where
bloomed the flowers on the window-sill.
He remembered quite well the way,
and told her how her pure kiss had been
as a seal upon his lips, and had kept
them virgin to her through all the years
of his absence.
How the light from her up-turned
eyes had been his beacon light that hud
led him on to fortune.
He told her that while travelling with
his young friends he had visited Russia,
and finding thnt country involved in a
war he had enrolled himself under her
banner.
He told her in a few modest words
that in more than one action he had been
so fortunate as to win the notice and
good will of the great Czar himself, who
had bestowed upon him rank and hon
ors.
But I He told her his heart often
turned with longing to his native land.
Often, by the camp-fire’s light, on the
lonely march, amid the dazzling splen
dor of the court, he felt again her pure
kiss upon his lips, he heard again her
murmured blessing.
But gratitude to his imperial patron
kept him at his post.
At last there came to visit at the
Court of Russia the K ng of Denmark.
During the visit the Czar mentioned
to his royal cousin of Denmark that
among the bravest nnd most honored of
his young officers there was a Danish
gentleman.
The Danish king summoned to his
presence this subject who had so bravely
upheld the honor of his native land.
He told our young hero that there was
always room for such as he in the ranks
of his own army.
And when the King of Denmark re
turned to his own realm there came in
his train Major Paul Wendelboe, Baron
Lenwenenrue, Equerry-in-Waiting upon
his Majesty.
And Major Paul Wendelboe had los
no time in seeking out the maiden,
whose name even he did not know, but
whose visage had been his guiding star
that had led him on to win honor and
title, which he brought now, with love
and gratitude, to lay at her feet.
The maiden whispered to lam her
name was “Lugeborg,” and then! she
whispered—
No need to tell what she whisp
ered.
’Tis the same sweet sentence that Don
Cupid prompts all mauls to whisper
since the w orld began.
And this is why there is always at the
Court of Denmark an Equerry-in-Wait
ing called “Paul Meudeiboe, Baron Len
wenenrue.’'
And whv the oldest daughter of the
House of Lenwenenrue is always
christened “Lugvborg.”— Sytmge
in Qrupkic.
Hundreds of acres of ground at Big
Fist, CaL, were covered with very small
frogs after a hard »hower the other day.
The little fcliow* were not larger than
crickets, und just as lively.
GIVINGJJIPS.”
Cunning Money - Making
Schemes of Some People-
How Tradesmen Securs Good Customers
by Paying Commissions-
. l>e in the commission business is
considered an honorable calling, but it
has come to pass that there a class of
commission men who are not only a
nuisance to their employers, but they
are an ulcer on the nose of honest deal
ing, quite i ffensivc.
"It happens almost every week,” said
a well-known*butcher, “that I *m»p
--j pioachcd by stewards either of private
families, hotels, or steamboats, who give
me to understand that for a quiet ‘tip’
I once in a while they will turn their em
; ployer’s trade to my market.”
“What do you do?”
1 “If I think the trade is worth having I
j give the fee. Why not? Others do it,
and the only way I cau fight ’em is with
their own weapons. Why, only the
other day I had the meat cook in one of
the largest and most fashionable board
' ing-houses in the city tell me that if I
■ would give her 5 per cent, commission
she’d bring me the trade of the house,
whi<h probably amounts to S2O or $25
i a week.”
“And you didn’t take the bid?”
"No; because I have reason to know
that she couldn’t fill the contract.”
The reporter’s next visit was to one
of the leading grocery stores in the
cily, and when the object of his visit
was made known the proprietor re
marked: "Yes, I hear of such things
once in awhi'e. In fact I kicked a
great mealy-mouthed man out of my
| store one day last winter, who had in-
I formed me that unless I did the square
, thing with him he would take his era
! ployer’s trade to another store. I asked
, him what he thought would be square,
and he replied that I ought to furnish
him with what groceries and canned
goods would be used by his family.”
“That was modest enough.”
“Yes, that was cheap, but I didn't
like the cheek of the fellow. Those cases
are rare, but I’ll tell you a system not so
rare. Cooks and stewards often make
bargains with butchers and grocers
I through the drivtrs of the delivery carts
’ and wagons. That’s common, and I’ve
j even heard where the drivers make quite
j a little commission in this way.”
I Next, a visit was paid to a prosperous
j carriage builder and repairer, who didn’t
' hesitate to say that coachmen and host
| lers tapped him for tips. "Only this
afternoon a hostler came in and asked
me for sO.cents. I knew that he wantedit
to get a drink, but I gave it to him with-
■ out question, because I know he has the
placing of the horseshoing of a man who
owns three horses.”
“How about coachmen ?”
“Well, a little over a year ago I sold a
carriage to a gentleman and got $425 for
it. True, I made the sale somewhat
through the influence of the coachman,
and I would have been willing to pay
him a sligh commission.”
“What did he demand ?”
“He called around and said hewanted
$25. I offered him $lO, and he appeared
insulted. Then I got mad, words fol
lowed, and the meeting ended by my
I saying I would smash his nose.”
“Served him righ.”
"But that didn’t end it. About a
■ month later the man who bought the
carriage came around and hinted that I
i had cheated him; that the wheels
; wouldn’t ‘track,’ and that it pulled a
■ great deal harder than when he first
’ bought it. I asked him to bring the
buggy around to the shop, and when he
did so I took the wheels off and I found
that the axletree had been wrenched,and I
I by main force, so that the wheel did not I
set squarely on it. In this way friction'
had ground the axletree just where the
box hits the shoulder.”
“How do you know it was done by
main force?”
“Because, suspecting that, I told the !
employer of the demand the coachman
had made on me, and he taxed the fel
low with it, at the same time charging
him with having bent the axle. Then the
man confessed. That’s how I know.”—
Detroit Free Preet.
Death in Boiling Steel.
It is long since the newspapers re
corded any accident so horrible as the
death of the Wool wish molder who was
overwhelmed by a cataclysm of boiling
steel, and it is not often that so strange
a ceremony a? the burial of poor Mori
arty is desenbed in black and white.
The fact is, the poor fellow now is part
of a 60-ton gun, in which form he will
continue to serve his country. Yet, odd
ly enough, he was buried yesterday.
For some ashes and fragments of cloth
ing were collected from the ingot and
shoveled into the coffin, which was fol
lowed to the grave by what is called an
imposing cortege. This solemn but con
solatory farce colls to mind another case
somewhat similar, which forms one of the
ghastly legends of Middlesborough. A
laborer had tumbled head foremost into
the fiery liquid, and nothing of him was
left. But they ran a coffin full of slag,
and held an inquest over it, and laid it
in consecrat • 1 ground in the orthodox
j manner.— Tai. Jfa I Gaietu.
Murr!a»<!, My Maryland.
“I wa* ut West Point, a bo T 0 »
twenty,” say* Confederate Major O'B
in the New York -S’ixr, “when the w
couds first begon to form. I
the academy from Florida, nnd receive!
my appointment from Senator Jeffery
Davis. My sympathies were all *tro ng ;»
in favor of the Southern cause uJ J
as the State of South Carolina left the
Union I resigned nty position i n th '
Military Academy and hastened to
Charleston. I, with some others, WIJ
■el at work superintending the buildup
of breastworks and afterward the mount
ing of cannon upon them. From these
brcslworks the first shot was fired upon
Fort Sumpter. After Sumpter Wastakcu
I was attached to a regiment of Stone
wall Jackson’* brigade and with much
difficulty joined it. This brigade, for®,
ng a part of Lee’s army, took part i a
the march up into Pennsylvania. For a
while, as you know, Lee carried
everything before him. The
Federal* were driven back, and most of
us young men expected at that time to
conquer the North in a very few months.
The night before wo received our first
repulse I well remember. Our camp was
well supplied with provisions by our
foraging parties, and our successes had
made the future seem bright.
“The song ‘Maryland, My Maryland’
had just reached the army, and all
through the camp on this night the re
frain could be heard. The Fedcrals
were very near us; so near that the pick
[ ets of the opposing armies could often
[ see one another, but the camp of the
enemy was very quiet. Far into the
night our men sang:
“The Northern foe is on thy shore,
Maryland! my Maryland!
Her torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland! my Maryland
“When the morning dawned thebattle
which was to decide so much began
again, and we were forced from our po
sition and obliged to fall back. AU day
long the fight was waged, but the Fede
erals were too strong for us.
i When camp was pitched on this
I night the Confederate soldiers did not
feel much like singing, and it was the
Fed erals’ turn. Again the camps were
very near together, and the words of
many of the Ncrthern songs came verj
destinctly to us. 'The Star Spangled
Banner,’ ‘America,’ ‘John Brown’s Body,’
and many others were sung. There was
a silence for some time, and then, to our
intense disgust, we heard our own new
song sung in this way:
“Oh! Beauregard and Longstreet, I.eo!
Maryland! my Maryland!
And Stonewall Jackson, where is he ’
Maryland! my Maryland!
Their coat tails streaming in the breeze
Is all tho loyal soldier sees.
Far better that than adorning trees!
Maryland! my Maryland!
“Our men were too disgusted and tired
to reply, and after that night we began
our long retreat, ano the two camps were
never again very close together.”
Characteristic* of Nevada.
When I first looked upon the scenery
of Nevada, after living half a life time
among the broad leaves, great trees,
wide waters and grand prairies of the
Mississippi Valley, I seemed to be for a
long time in a ghostly country. In my
former home, vegetable life was sappy,
full and vatied in its green and flowering
stages; while in the autumn, the whirl of
the yellow, brown and dry leaves, danc
ing in the wind gave lifeanl change to
all the year round. But in Nevada, the
change in the vegetation, if it changes at
any time,is not perceptible to a stranger’s
eye; everything betokens silence, lack of
motion and perpetual hush.
In the Mississippi Valley, animal life
is full, robust and noisy in all its de
partments, accustoming the eye and ear
to its universal presence. But in Neva
da, among the rugged silence of the
sage brush and the scraggy trees,
the animal life is so light
that the starting of a hare, the “swith,
swith” of a raven’s wing, or the “caw,
caw” of a bluejay is the event of the
sunlight hours; while the shivering howl
of a coyote after sundown makes the
dead silence of the night hours deader
still.
Back home (as we fondly call the old
States), there is snow or there is not
snow; but here, one stands at night on
the dry sand in the valley, or lies on his
blankets among the dusky gray of the
bushes, while a little way from him, on
either hand, the snowy peaks, white as
the ghostly warders in a fairy tale, keep
stern and shrouded guard upon the
scene.
These characteristics of Nevada im
pressed me when I first came’upon these
scenes, with a lonesome sense of some
thing pending in the air— haunted feel
ing.— Oterland Monthly.
The New Way to Sleep.
A medical writer recommends sleeping
with the feet higher than the head, which
he avers is the only rational and proper
position during sleep. He knows, be
cause he has tried it four years. He fin is
that he awakes earlier in the morning,
feels more refreshed and is capable ol
much better work during the day. lhe
brain is better nourished, he says, an
the lungs are benefitted. After a while
another reformer will turn up advising
folks to sleep standing on their heads.
Sifting!.