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STORM AND SUNSHINE.
Low hang the heavy clouds; the wind
Grows cpld and makes the flowers shiver;
Driv’p by the storm., the frighten nil brook
Hastes madly onward to the ri er,
The birds, |n terror, seek their m ts,
Each to his loved ones loudly cai .ing;
The grass bends, trembling, to the earth,
And fast the dreary rain is falling.
This is a weifiy life at best;
. What is the use, my heart, of living!
’Tisvain to reek for peace and rest—
The world is cold and unforgiving!
The sun is shining once again,
With it a glorious rainbow bringing;
fiweet buds are op’ning into flowers,
From ev’ry tree the birds are singing.
The brook is dancing in the light,
The bees from rose to rose are straying;
The grass uplifts its many blades,
With merry leaves the breeze is playing.
This world is cheery, after all;
There is some use, my heart, in living;
Though friends forsake, and shadows fall,
The sun still shines, and God’s forgiving!
Margaret Ey tinge.
BILL HEDDEN’S GAL.
BY WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, M. D.
“Thar aint no use talkin’, fur it’s jist
as plain as the nose on your face that
Nance Joyce is the best-lookin’ gal in
Riley county. I aint much of a fightin’
man, and I don’t want to make no on
pleasantness,now, but I’m willin’ to back
Nance fur all she’s worth agin the whole
female popylation.”
The speaker, a tall, rawboned and
rather handsome young man dressed in
a blue flannel shirt, and in trousers that
looked as though they might at one time
have been of any color of the rainbow,
but that now were of whatever neutral
tint the observer might choose to call
them, leaned against the counter of the
“saloon,” and with a glass of whisky in
his hand glanced defiantly around the
room. Finally, as he was finishing his
speech, his eyes rested on a man, ap
parently a teamster, for he had a whip
in his hand such as was used at the
time—twenty-five years ago—by the
drivers of the government wagons. Evi
dently he was in no cbeerful mood, for
while all the others in the room were
laughing and talking over their liquor,
he sat, not drinking as they were, but
looking down at the floor as though in
tently, engaged in studying the cracks
and stains and knot-holes with which it
abounded, while his fingers were nerv
ously twisting and untwisting the lash of
his whip. Seemingly he paid no atten
tion to the challenge in behalf of the
claims of Nance Joyce to be the hand
somest girl in Riley county, though a
close observer might have noticed that
as the last words were spoken he put
additional energy into his twisting and
untwisting processes, as though to get
rid in that way of a superabundance of
nervous <’iiergy.
“ToudM better minjl how you talk,
Dave Milligan,” Mid a man a good deal
older, to judge by his gray beard and
stooping figure, than any one else pres
ent; “thar’s them present, or leastwise
one,” glancing toward the quiet teamster
as he spoke, who ain’t goin’ to allow as
Nance Joyce is purtier nor Bill Hedden’s
gal. Not as it’s any o’ my business, but
they ‘ do' say, leastwise the women do
down on the ‘Blue,’ that Bill’s gal’s be
spoke, and the man as is got her ain’t
fur from this saloon neither. ’
But even this rather pointed reference
failed to arouse the alleged lover of
“Bill Hedden’s gal,” though, as before,
he played more energetically—almost
spasmodically--with his whip-lash. He
aid not. however, raise his eyes from the
floor, though he must certainly have
heard the remarks of the two speakers.
With a wink that was intended to be
significant to all present oi a determina
tion to push matters still further, the
first speaker - Dave Milligan, as the old
man had called him—made another at
tempt to arouse the silent teamster.
“It’s all well enough,” he said, “fur
old man Stryker to talk jist for the sake
o' talkin’; fur that's about what he’s do
in’ when he kinder allows as Bill Hed
den's gat has notions higher nor any kite
ever sailed above this airth. Didn’t
Bill send her to the States for her school
in’ and didn’t she come back speakin’
half a dozen furrin lingoes and playin’
the [Manny like that Taliani as was up at
Leavenworth last Christmas? Didn't she
skip oVer the perairy as if she war an an
telope, flirting the real silk dress as Bill
give her, jist as if it war the star-spang
led banner, fluttering in a hurricane?
Bich likes as her aint goin’ in fur mule
drivers if they knows thcirselves, and
they ginerray docs. Bill’s gal’s lavin’
her lines for an officer up at the Fort and
BUI hissclf is a-backin' her, tooth and
nail. Tfiat’a the sort of a game as is np,
and mule drivers is goin’ to be nowhar.”
A loud laugh greeted this speech, and
Dave Milligan evidently thinking that he
had said enough to provoke a fight, and
that he had a right to look for the result
straightened himself up* and, giving his
trousers a htych, awaited any awuilt that
mightl>e made.
But still the teamster made no re
sponse. cither by word or deed. Dave
walked up and down the floor, winking
and chuckling over his easy victory till,
finally encouraged by the ‘jeers that hia
remarks called forth from his com
panions, he strutted across to where the
teamster sat fumbling with his whip, and,
standing in front of him, with his hands
rammed far down into his trousers'
pockets and hia lege wi«ic apart, looked
the object of his attack with a half
nftytng, half eontemutuous look on his
face.
“Let him alone, Dave,” cried a man
from the tar e»4 of the room. “Thar
ain’t no spunk in him. The idee o’ Bill
Hedden's gal rakin’ on with a milksop
like him '« enough to make a coyote
laugh, rate's as spirited as a buffalo
call when it had its Jtiret meal o’ grass
and the don’t want any flabbergaft
about her.”
Thee? words had more effect in roue
iag the teamster than any that either
of the other speakers hai spoken, for be
raised his head and locked around the
room till his eyes rested on the man who
had uttered them. He looked at him
steadily for a moment, and then slowly,
•baoai sluggishly, got up from the bar
rei which he was sßtiwg. and without
aotking Parc Milligan flbok a step to
ward the doer.
Then the tars and hoqU WCM re
<|publad as the crowd saw its victim
waking as attempt to .escape, and
a' , w
two or three of the noisiest of the men
supplemented their taunts with such
missiles of a material character—onions,
ears of corn, etc., —as happened to be
near at hand. One of them struck the
retreating teamster in the middie of the
back and another knocked his hat off.
He stooped to pick it up, and as he rose
faced his persecutors.
There was nothing particularly strik
ing in his appearance. For all the world
he looked like any other teamster save
for the expression of utter despair that
was on his face. As he stood up and
looked around the room as thougn in
search of a friendly countenance tears
started to his eyes and ran down his
cheeks. He brushed them away with
his hand, and then something seemed to
prompt him to speak, for he raised his
arms as if to implore silence, and when,
in compliance with this gesture and re
peated requests to a like effect from
several of the leaders of the crowd the
jeers and laughter ceased he spoke as
follows:
“I didn’t think as Jack Davis would
be agin me, the man asjerked him out of
the Smoky Hill fork when the flood was
on us last April and cornin’ near on to
losin’ his own life a-doin’ it. I don’t
mind Dave Milligan. Every man here
knows as I ain’t afraid o’ him, and I
gness he aint forgot the lickin’ I give
him a couple of months ago. And as to
the rest o’ you, I guess if I war myself
thar aint any tw r oof all you howlin’
cusses as I couldn’t handle.
“But you see, gentlemen,” looking
down at the floor as he spoke and shift
ing his feet uneasily, “The spirit’s clean
out o’ me. When I’m myself I aint no
coward, and fur half the words as has
been spoke this day to me in this room
I’d a’ knocked blue blazes out o’ the
men as spoke ’em, no later ago nor yes
terday. My name’s William T. Bush.
My family is all for fightin’, from old
Sandy Bush, wno died more’u a hundred
years ago, down to my youngest brother,
Timothy, who war a eatin’ spoon vittles
when I left Pike. Yesterday I’d a
fought the whole crowd o’ you, let alone
Dave Milligan and Jack Davis, as I could
sling into kingdom come with one hand
tied behind my back, but to-day, gentle
men, as I said afore, the spirit’s knocked
clean out me, and, gentlemen,afore God,
B 11 Hedden's gal’s done the work.”
While he was speaking the utmost at
teitioa was given to him, and even now
as he stopped the rough men appeared
to be spellbound in expectation of the
revelation that was evidently about to be
made in regard to the surprising change
that had ensued in the personal char
acteristics of one of their companions.
As for the teamster, he appeared for
a few moments to be overcome by the
force of the announcement he had just
made, but he soon recovered enough
composure to go on with his explanation,
though his voice had lost most of the lit
tle strength that it had had in the be
ginning.
“Yes, gentlemen,” he resumed, “Bill
Hedden’s gal’s done fur me. You see,
I never knowed what war in me or I
guess Ed a kept clar o’ her and all the
rest o’ the gals. I jist thought as how
I’d have a good time courtin’ her nights
when I’d put up my team an’ she war a
roamin’ over the perarie, lookin' like
some pink rose-bush as had got loose
from its roots and war lookin’ fur a new
p&ce to plant itself. Maybe I did think
now an’ then that I’d ask her to be my
wife, but, Lord love you, gentlemen,! no
more knowed what a racket she’d kick
up in my heart than I knowed who stole
my off leader last winter. Well, I up
and spoke civil to her one evenin' jist
as the sun war a-goin’ down behind the
limestone bluffs, and she answered kind
ly—oh, gentlemen, so kindly—that I
felt my heart jump up in my throat like
as if thar war a bullfrog a climbin’ out
o’ my chist. We walked along the road
down to the Fork, and I went home with
her, and I didn’t need no persuasion to
So in and stay till Biil Hedden come
ome, and then I thought it war time to
go. Gentlemen, I loved that gal from
that night in away as was strange to
me. It kinder seemed as es the whole
world war full o’ me and Bill’s gal—not
another livin’ creature but jist ns two. I
aint no scholar, as you all knows. I
aint had but six months’ schoolin’ in all
my life, but 1 knowed enough to write
her a letter when I couldn't git away to
see her oust a week or oftener, and I
didn't have no more trouble a-writin’
them letters than if I war the editor o’
the Kansas Register. The words jist
seemed to come out o’ the end o’ my pen
like the water out o’ Sand Hill Gulch
after a week’s rain. And she liked ’em,
gentlemen I She told me so with her
own lips and I knowed from the look in
her eyes that she war a-speakin’ the
truth.
“It aint fur me to tell how I made love
to bar and how she made back. Them's
things, gentlemen, that I don’t care to
talk about. Not as I’m ashamed, but
you see thar's a sort o’ feelin’ in me as
tells me it wouldn’t be a white man’s
work to tell what war said and done be
tween us. But, gentlemen. I will say
than no man ever loved a gal as I loved
her. She jist walked into my heart and
sot hersels down thar, and then she
crawled down into its deep places—
lower down than any one had ever bin
afore, and thar I held her so tight that I
thought the world would have come to
an end afore she could git out.
“She war Vary good to me, gentlemen.
Her eyes war always full o’ the looks
that 1 knowed were looks o’ joy when
ever 1 come to Bill's house to see her,
and she al wars had lots of the sweetest
kind of words fur me. Further than
this, gentlemen, as I said afore, it don't
seem right for me to go, but I will say
that I knowed she loved me, iist about
as strong as I loved her, and that war so
all-fired much that the world aint seen
the like ofit in Onr time, gent! emen, nor
is it likely to, I guess.
“Well, you see knowed as I loved her
and I knowed as she loved me, but I
hadn't yit in so many words asked her
to marry me. Thar warnl no doubt on
i that pint, for I'm a straight man gentle
men, and I’d no more a-thought o’ doin’
! harm to Bill Hedden’s gal than I'd
! thought o’ harmin’ my own mother. So
; one evenin' as we war aittin’ together m
Bill's front room and he war walkin’ out
on the porch 1 up and asked her to be
my wife. She didn't give me no answer,
leastwise not in word*. but I knowed she
, war willin', tor I aint no fool, and I kin
read signs as well as any other man,
'specially when they're as plain as them
sne give me. But I wanted her to say
j **• out- and when I pushed her on
that pint she laughed and told me to
come to-morrow and she’d speak plain
enough. I didn’t have no fear as to
what she’d say when she did speak, for
you see all the signs war one way—
every one of them pintin’ one way—and
that war the way I liked. So when to
morrow come, as it did last evenin’, gen
tlemen, I put up my team after a heavy
day’s work at the sawmill, and freshened
myself up a bit afore I started fcr Bill
Hedden’s house. All the way as I went
along I war thinkin’ of his gal more’n
ever afore. I made up my mind to tell
Bill that very night, but 1 war sure that
he knowed what war goin’ on jist as
well as es I told him. I had a sort of a
notion that maybe Bill would be glad to
take the five hundred dollars I’ve earned
and put in in his ranch and take me as a
pardner, seein’ as I’d be his son-in-law.
and knowin’ all about the business, too,
I was jist chuck full o’ happiness, and
when I went into the room whar Bill's
gal war sittin’ readin’ I went up to her,
expectin’ to see her git up and meet me
half-way, jist as she’d always done, and
—however, I mustn’t speak of them
things. But thar she sot. See jist
looked up onst from her book and then
she went on readin’ agin as es I war a
thousand miles away.
“I war took all aback, gentlemen.
My head all at once got as big as a
bushel and I couldn’t see straight,
for everything seemed to be goin’ ’round
topsy-turvy. I tried to say some
thing, but not a word would come
out of my mouth. Then I heard
her speak, and what do you think
she said, gentlemen? These is the
very -words: ‘Mr. Bush,’ says she, ‘I can
never marry you, and I think we’d bet
ter not meet agin.’ Them's the very
words; spoke too without a break in her
voice, or a tear in her eye, or a sigh from
her heart; she spoke jist as es she war
speakin’ to a man as she had never seen
afore, much less laid on his heart and
kissed, but, as I war a-sayin’, gentlemen,
these things is not to be spoke of. I
asked her war she in earnest. I just
managed somehow or other to git them
words out of my dried up mouth, and
then I knowed no more till I war out on
the road and heard her a-laughin’ and
talkin’ inside with Lieutenant Soring,
from the Fort, who went in jist as I come
out.
“My head war still goin’ round like a
top, but I knowed enough to lay in the
ravine, this side o’ Bill’s house and wait
for the man as had took my place. In
about an hour, I guess, he came along
on his horse. He didn’t see me as I cov
ered him with my six-shooter. I war jist
goin’ to pull the trigger when somethin’
come up in my mina and stopped me.
I went to my bunk and tried to
git to sleep, but you see, gentlemen,
it warn’t no use. I got up at daylight
and wandered all over the plains, lettin’
my team go, and then I come in here,
thinkin’ as how I’d kill myself with
whisky or somethin’ else. For thar ain’t
nothin’ to keep me in this world now,
as Biil Hedden’s gal has gone back on
me. But I’ll swear on a stack o’ Bibles
she loved me onst. No.” putting his
hand to his heart as he spoke, and stag
gering till he caught hold of a chair,
while several of those present rushed to
his assistance; “there ain’t nothin’else
to live for since Bill’s gal give me up. It
ain’t no use, gentlemen,” as Dave Milli
gan and Jack Davis took him to a chair
and supported his head. “She gave me
my ticket for the next world when she
went back on me, for you see I loved her
more’n I loved God, and perhaps that
wern’t the right thing for me to do.
And I will swear with my dyin’ breath
that she loved me onst. I saw it a thou
sand times in her eyes and I’ll swear it
with—my dyin’ breath.”
“Boys,” said Jack Davis, “take off
your hats, every mother’s son o’ you.
Bill Bush wai a white-souled man es
ever there war one. If he ain’t gone to
heaven I don’t see no use in sich a place,
and he war a sight too good for Bill
Hedden’s gal.”— New York Journal.
Josh Billings, Tribute to Artemus
Ward.
Deth hex done a cruel thing lately.
Deth seldom iz imparshall; this iz all
that ken be said in his favor. He moves
his sithc awl round the world, now in
this field, now in that; wheat, flowers,
and weeds drop, wilt and wither, fcr he
sythes early and late, in citi and town,
by the harthstun and away oph where
the wanderers are.
Deth hez done a cruel thing lately,
i Deth is seldom kind. Here a father, a.
: mother, a wee small thing but a month
Jon a visit; there Mary and Charley go
down in white clothes. Deth mowes;
menny fields are all bare, for deth cuts
■ cluss as well as cruel.
Deth luvs to mow; tis his stile. He iz
old and slick with his sickle; he mowed
for Able uv old and for Able uv yester
day.
Iteth mows strangely, and round fall
the daisy and grass, and alone, snarling,
stands the koarse thistle, left for what ?
Deth kan’t tell, for God only knows.
Deth, you have done a cruel thing late
ly; you have mowed where the wittiest
one of all stood, whose words have gone
lasting awl over the world, whose heart
waz az good and az soft az a mother’s.
Deth, you have mowed where my
friend Artemus stood, and humor wears
mourning now for the child of her heart.
I am sad, and I am sorry.
Type-Setting in Japan.
The advantages of alphabetic writing
are nowhere more conspicuously shown
than in a large printing office. The
compositor stands within' easy reach of
every character he may have need of.and
a boy can learn the position of each in
the case in a few hours. It is quite an
other matter where each word has a dis
tinct character, as in China or Japan. A
correspondent, describing the office of a
Japanese paper, says that a full font of
Japanese type comprises 7,000 characters,
of which 3,000 aie in constant use. and
for 2,000 more there are frequent calls.
The type is disposed about the compos
ing-room on racks, like those in a read
ing-room, and the compositors wander
up and down the aisles, setting type and
taking exercise at once. With so many
characters it is no wonder that Japanese
proof-readers have to be men of intelli
gence and high scholarship. The im
possibility of'telegraphing single-char
acter words has kept * this great instru
ment of Civilization in foreign hands, and
made it practically useless for the natives
of Chins and Japan. To these the tele
phone m an especial blessing.which they
arc not slow to appreciate.
AT THE BURNING GHAT.
How the Hindoos Conduct Their
Cremation Ceremonies.
To every traveler in Hindostan is
familiar the terrible call of “Ram, Ram
Buch Hai,” -which, being translated into
English, means, literally, “God, God is
truth.” The cry is a fearful one, a cry
which once heard lingers with peculiar
rhythm in the hearer’s ear, for never is
it heard from the lips of a single man,
but from many, sometimes hundreds, and
when borne with that terrible distinct
ness of the well-accentuated many upon
a still air, its effect is peculiarly awe
striking. Still more so when at rapid
trot upon the shoulders of four white
robed men is seen a white-sheeted corpse
laid upon a light bier. So tightly has
been drawn the shrouding over dead
figure that every outline of is
distinctly visible; and thus at a quick
pace hurry the body-bearers, followed
by an immense throng, to the burning
ghat, there to burn the body of the de
ceased.
There are few more affecting sights
than a Hindoo cremation. There is so
much of solemnity and so much of bar
baric pomp attending the ceremonial,
such a general gathering of clansmen,
and so much paid loud weeping and
silent agony, that it may be well said
that not to be present at a burning is to
lose one of the most interesting enter
tainments that Hindostan can offer. No
Hindoo is ever permitted to die within
four walls. Out in the open air must
the last gasp be breathed, and the last
look of the dying man must be upon
that which is not made by hands. The
measure is not wholly one of religion,
but more of a sanitary precaution. De
composition sets in so rapidly that it is
reckless to leave a body in close and con
fined rooms longer than an hour at the
very most. No sooner does death ap
pear inevitable than the friends prepare
to meet it in the most philosophical man
ner.
The dying man is borne out into the
open air, the hired mourners are sent for,
and sit on each side of the lintel and wail
in a heartrending manner. These mourn
ers are women, old and ugly, red and
white, dusty garments, with hair dishev
elled, barnyard sweepings on their head
and all the accomplishments of woe
imaginable. From constantly engaging
in such business, lheir faces appear to
have attained the expression most be
fitting such occasions.
About the annointing of the corpse
the Hindoo is most particular. It is
rubbed all over with the essence of roses.
The hair is oiled, the cheeks and lips are
painted a bright vermillion, and the
body swathed in white linen, manufac
tured for that purpose, and so shrouded
as only to disclose the face and hands.
The bier differs according to the caste.
With the Brahmins simplicity is observa
ble. But the lower the caste, and con
sequently the lower the general intelli
gence and status in society, the more
gaudily decorated the bier.
For instance, grooms affect the liveli
est colors, and convert their funerals into
ludicrous farces, and are more than
(ileased when their efforts meet with
aughing shouts of approval. It is a pe
culiarity of this class that they are a
most jovial race, and have ever a song
or.#. joke ei> their lips. With other
castes preternatural gloom seems ever
upon tneir minds. A groom, on the
other hand, seizes with avidity the oc
casion of a funeral, and looks upon it as
a most fortunate circumstance—an oc
casion upon which to be merry, to laugh
dull care away and defy tyrant death
with the cup that more than inebriates;
for drunkenness is a besetting vice with
him, though it is a drunkenness that takes
amiable form,rarely even permitting him
to do more harm than to bite off the nose
of one of his refractory wives.
A light matting forms the bed of the
pyre, which is attached to bamboo poles,
covered with strips of red, white, blue,
green, yellow—in fact all colors—of
cotton cloth. A canopy is formed over
head, also covered with various colored
cloth. The body is placed inside and
smothered with flowers, the white
chammalee being preferred. It has a
strong odor and is a pure white. Four
of the stoutest relatives of the deceased
then lift the litter, and before them are
runners, -who lay on the ground red and
white strips of cloth, so as not to permit
the carriers to tread the bare earth.
When the funeral procession comes to
the limit of one of these strips, the
funeral cortege has to wait until other
strips have been spread. In advance of
these are the fighting men of the party,
who brandish spears, sticks, and occa
sionally fire off guns, beside going
through antics symbolical of fighting in
midair hovering demons who are intent
upon carrying off the body. In most
picturesque places are these burning
ghats located. Hard by is some holy
stream, whose blue waters contrast
beautifully with the dark and glowing
foliage of the overhanging trees, and the
rich green of the rank jungle which
fringes its banks. The approaches to
these river banks are generally through
ravines, deep and tortuous, caused by
the overflooded river during the rainy
season. Over hot and burning sands,
which glisten in the bright sunshine
like burnished silver, and cast a glare
which tn the unaccustomed eye is almost
blinding, trudges the funeral party.
Arriving at the ghat, a little huckster
ing has to be gone through with some of
the wood-dealers, who have already as
sorted sized pieces of wood from which
to build the pyre, this Being accom
plished after no little difficulty, for a
Hindoo always asks more than he expects
to receive, and alwavs places his figure
high so that after the bargain is con
cluded he gets actually what he first
wanted. The eldest son is closest to the
body; it is he who carries the pot con
taining the fire, and it is his duty to start
into flame the straw. He is dressed in
white, and upon his dress are great
patches of red like blood clots. The
pyre is but a foot or so high, resting on
a tied of straw. After the doleful chants
have been sung, and after he has thrice
marched round the pyre, he ignites the
fire, and a few seconds after a thin
wreath of smoke ascending heavenward
tells that the last rite has been success
fully performed. The funeral ceremon
ies over, the party, including those who
are nearest of kin, repair to the deceased's
late dwelling and there inquire into the
affairs of the departed one, and make an
inventory of his effects.
A marnage and a funeral are affairs
uuch to be dreaded by a wealthy Hindoo,
for on either occasion there is to be con
siderable spent in feasting the relatives,
and a host of dependants; and as with
out a feast the soul of the departed one
is in danger of not tasting the joys of
the life hereafter, a funeral feast is really
often the real source of the woe on such
occasions. As a matter of course the
Brahmins figure conspicuously, for it is
hoped that through their intercessions,
will the dead man gain heavenly bliss.
—San Francisco Examiner.
A Bushman’s Cave.
‘■"We engaged two or three of the na
tives as guides,’’says Mrs. Carey Hob
son, in “At Home" in the Transvaal,”
“and they took us into one of their cu
rious caves, though I think cave is hardly
the proper name; it is more like an
enormous fissure in the rocks, with small
caves and shelves in the precipitous
sides. It was a -wonderful place, capable
of being garrisoned and provisioned in
time of war, and, one would think, ren
dered impregnable.
“ ‘How about the water?’ asked Gra
ham. ‘Had they a supply in'the cave?’
“They had, and a very plentiful sup
ply, too. We entered the place through
a narrow, zig-zag opening in the rocks,
which almost gave you the idea that you
were going into some tunnel that had
fallen in. All at once we found our
selves in a beautiful open space, where
there were some cattle feeding upon
grass growing luxuriantly on either side
of a clear stream of water that ran the
whole length of the chasm.
“We walked along its banks for a
long way, admiring the vegetation,
which was different from any we had
seen outside. Beautiful little fairy ferns
and maidenhair grew in the crevices of
the rocks, making a pretty lace trim
ming, as it were, between the lines of
strata, each side matching so exactly both
in strata and fernwork, as to denote in a
wonderful manner the suddenness with
which the mountain must have been reit
in twain. And in that clear, dry cli
mate, the rocks looked as bright and
newly-broken as if this cataclysm had
taken place but yesterday. Gradually
we heard more and more distinctly a
roaring noise, that we understood to
come from a fall of water. The rocks
had hitherto been open to the sky, al
though much nearer to each other at the
top than below; but at last they closed
entirely, and we were in a dark passage.
Here were rooms or holes for the stores
of grain, and hiding places for their
women and children.
“At the end of this tunnel we came
upon a cascade, falling sheer, from the
mountain summit, through a large round
opening, into the basin below. A mass
of rock jutting out at one side, just
within the fall, intercepted the water,and
sent it dancing wildly in a thousand fan
tastic jets of spray, to be sobered down
as they mingled with the long, steady
stream of falling water. There is an im
mense quantity of honey in these caves,
and the people collect it from the honey
nests in the interstices of the rock, let
ting each other down from above bj
means of thongs, or, more generally, bj
climbing and clinging among the mon
key-rope that grows luxuriantly in parts.
Our guides also pointed out some curious
rock paintings, the work of the early
Bushman inhabitants.”
——t „
Long Life in Mexico.
The other day an old fellow named
Jose Onoire Ojeda, died over in a town
of the State of Jalisco, aged 115 years,
writes a correspondent of the Boston
Herald. He had been married twice,
thought seriously of the third wife, when
death came along to stop his matrimo
nial schemes. Sdme time ago an old
fellow was living at San Miguel de Al
lende, aged 135 years, a man still vigor
ous. The records of the parish church
confirm his claims to a great age. Not
long ago, down in the pretty little tropi
cal village of Orizaba, there died an old
woman aged 140 years, and a few months
ago a woman named Martina Riviera died
here at the age of 150 years, a fact thor
oughly attested. The Indians have a prov
erb that their hair is black when that of the
Spaniards is growing gray. A local paper
noted the other day the case of the In
dian, Juan Santiag, who died in 1844,
at the age of 143 years. This old chap
left two dependent grandchildren, both
aged men, whose years were respectively
111 and 109 years. The grandfather
married as the Indians do, very young,
and it is not surprising that he should
have left descendants who were them
selves centenarians.
The secret of thisextraordinary longevity
among the Indians is their simple diet
and regular habits. They themselves
say that when an Indian goes into service
and eats the food of the white man the
Indian’s teeth begin to decay. Their
perpetual grinding on tortillas keeps
their teeth white and the lime in the tor
ilia makes teeth bone.
Hew to Grow Good Looking.
Our thoughts are very likely to leave
their impress on our faces, and it is
certain that they do immediately mani
fest themselves upon our countenances,
making them cheerful or sad or other
wise according to what is going on in
our minds. We pay too little attention
to these things, and because we do not
recognize to what an extent facial ex
pression indicates individual character,
we indulge ourselves in many moods
that would not be permitted were we
aware ot the fact that habitual states of
mind fix permanently our features in a
large degree. A cheerful.banpy heart is
sure to make a bright, sunny face. It may
not be in a day or a week, or a month or
a year, but the man or woman cannot be
otherwise thin good looking who contin
ually maintains a happy disposition in
himself and a kindly spirit for other*.
“We chisel our thoughts in the face,
Emotions unawares,
With our minds and hearts ewer trace
Our joys and our griefs and cares.
It is love, it is hate, we write.
Whatever we think or feel:
It is doubt. It is faith, or light,
Whatever is woe or weak
Whatever we choose we may paint,
The feelings refieM or ill,
The thought of the hero or saint.
Whatever we lore and. will;
A arolptor of self we may be,
Chisel as Phidias wrought:
Carre in the face what all may see—
A soul by the masters taught. ’’
The poet of the Koran thought if trees
were pens and oceaas tanks of ink they
would not suffice in writing out the folly
in mankind.
TIMELY_TOPIC&
A correspondent writing|rom Holland
says Mormonism is gaining ground there.
A meeting was held recently at Zwolle,
which consisted of Mormons from.
Amsterdam, Groningue, Leenwarden,
Devente, 61st, and Zwolle. Women
and children were present. The exer
cises, consisting of speeches and relig
ious services, lasted from 10 o’clock in
the morning until late at night. A num
ber of converts were admitted. The
Dutch government does not interfere
with the sect.
The cultivation of liquorice has been
carried on in a few sections of the South
for years in a desultory way. The
“Liquorice Plant” is the title of a pam
phlet of twenty pages issued by the de
partment of state, embodying the in
ipiiries of consular agents in various
rountries. In Sicily, Spain, and in
Italy the sweetest liquorice is grown, and
from four to eight years are required to
Produced a crop of roots. The product
is principally usedin sweetening tobacco
Ind in masking the taste of nauseous
medicines.
Sir Henry Thompson and English
physicians who understand the thing say
that all enteric fevers, such as typhus,
cholera and the Oriental plague itself,
are due to positive pollution in the air
and water. Historiographers of disease
hill us that the cholera comes from the
mouth of the Ganges, the yellow fever
from the mouth of the Mississippi, and.
the plague from the mouth of the Nile,
Now the Mediterranean is an obvious
focus and hotbed of enteric poison, and
has been so ever since the days of the
Athenian plague, which Thucydides
chronicled. Its tideless waters accumu
late unspeakable filth and garbage. The
present cholera commenced and found
its chief seat in Marseilles, which is, per
haps, the most pestilential port in the
world.
The public have long suffered from
the fiendish scream of the steam whistle*
but there is prospect of alleviation.
Lately attention has been turned to this
matter, and that great remedial agent,
the inventor, has perfected different
styles of what has been known as a gong
whistle. But some one with the love of
musical harmony in his soul has taken a
step further in the way of removing the
offensive noise, and produced a musical
chime whistle, the great rserit of which
consists in producing a musical chord
composed of the first, third and fifth
tones of the common musical scale. The
effect of this chord in the whistle is to
remove the piercing, hurtful effect upon
the ear, and at the same time very much
enhance the carrying qualities of the
sound, from the fact that more tones or
vibrations of the air are produced.
The three largest industries of South
Australia are wool, wheat and gold. The
number of sheep is between 80,000,000
and 90,000,000. The average value of
the export of wool alone is between $90,-
000,000 and $100,000,000. This indus
try is likely to increase in the future.
The exportation of frozen meat, chiefly
mutton, to Great is a compara
tively new industry, which is growing
rapidly in importance. So important
has the business become that New Zea
land is building steamers especially for
the trade. Meat is frozen by means of
condensed air, and is kept frozen during
the voyage by the same means. The
complete carcass of the animal is frozen.
Last year there were exported from South
Australia alone between 400,000 and
500,000 tons of wheat. Their importa
tions from America are limited, ana con
sist chiefly of buggies, American tools
and mineral oils.
Statistics gathered by the forestry di
vision of the agricultural department,
for the use of the forestry congress held
in Boston, show that the forest product
during the census year(1880) was 18,000,
000,000 feet, board measure. In 1884 it
greatly exceeded this figure, reaching in
that year 28,000,000,000 feet. A rather
alarming fact is incidentally stated in
the report, namely, that the forests are
disappearing at the rate of 25,000,000
acres each year; and we can hardly ven
ture to hope that even the diligent ef
forts of the various forestry associations
throughout the country are making
much headway in repairing this enor
mous annual waste. It appears that
there are in the United States 285,000,-
000 acres of improved land, 445,000,000
acres of forest, and 730,000,000 acres of
unimproved and waste untimbered land.
The forest area would be swept clean,
at the rate of consumption above stated,
in about eighteen years. The Button
Cultivator declares that this is one of the
staples in regard to which we may con
fidently say that no fears of overproduc
tion need be be entertained.”
The Washington correspondent of the
Cleveland Leader has been interviewing
Mr. Bingham, recently United States
minister to Japan. Mr. Bingham made
the following interesting remarks
“Japan is advancing very rapidly in civ
ilization. The telephone and electric
light are being pushed forward. The
railroads have increased from eighteen
miles to JJOO miles in ten years: the coun
try has 5,000 miles of inland telegraph
and two great ocean Cables. The postal
service of Japan has been organized
within the past ten yean*, and now they
have nearly as many postoffices as the
United States. Their postal system is
as well organized and equipped ” as ours.
Japan has a free press, and there are five
daily and weekly papers published in
English there, beside a largC number of
Japanese papers. As to schools, 3*ooo
Japanese children attend free schools,
and it is a crime to prevent children be
tween seven and thirteen years from at
tending school. English is taught in the
schools, too. and the Japanese are using
an alphabet to a great extent, and they
are 'jrndtially adopting theßoman letters
to their language. The mikado,’* said
Minister Bingham, “is a marvel of in
telligence and liberality. He comes
from a family which hae ruled Japan
years, and has been seventeen years
emperor. He has great administrative
ani.itv, and is one of the greatest rues
of onr time.”
Since the twelfth century, nine
women have been professors in the Bo
logna university, and taught jurispru
dence. philosophy, mathematics and lan
guages.”
3