North Carolina Newspapers

5ft 3lS. m (OFM dafoam Record. 31 djhailam Jutoqd, H. A. LONDON, Jr., BATES OP ADVERTISING, EDITOR AND I'lIOPHlETOR. AyAyA Ay a TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: On r: y, one yesr, ...... One copy , six mouths . Cue copy, three mouths, - - One square, one Insertion, ... One square, two Insertions,- . . One square, one mouth, - 11.00 1.90 2.60 J2.00 1.00 .SO vol. I. PITTSBOHO', CHATHAM CO., N. C, FEBRUARY 27, 1879. NO. 24, For larger advertisements liberal contracts wlU bo M1IH1G. 1 4 CLWf vi li nil LARGET STORE LARGEST STOCK Cheapest Goods & Best Variety CAN BE FOUND AT LONDON'S CHEAP STORE. Hew Goofls RficeiTBd eyery Week. You can always find what you wish at Lon don's. He keep everything. Dry Goods, Clothing, Carpeting, Hardware, Tin Ware, Drugs, Crockery, Confectionery Shoes, Boot, Caps, Hata, Carriage Materials, Sewing Machlnes,011s, Putty, Glass, Paints, Nails, Iron, Plows and Plow Castings, Sold, Upptr and Harness Leathers, Saddles, Trunks, Satchels, Shawls, Blankets, Um brellas, Corsets, Belts, La dles' Neck-Ties and Ruffs, Ham burg Edgings, Laces, Furniture, fec. Best Shirts In the Country for $1. Best 6-cent Cigar, Chewing and Smoking Tobacco, Snuff, Salt and Molasses. My stock Is always complete in every line, and goods always sold at the lowest prices. Special Inducements to Cash Buyers. My motto, "A nimble Sixpence is bettei than a slow Shilling." t3ETAU kinds of produce taken. W. L. LONDON, Ptttsboro', N. Carolina. H. A. LONDON, Jr., Attorney at Law, I'lTTSBOKO', N. C. sc?Special Attention Paid to Collecting J. J. JACKSON, AT TOR NE Y-AT-L AW, riTTSBORO',N. C. t"All business entrusted to him will re o;'lre prompt attention. R. H. COWAN, Staple & Fancy Dry Goods, Cloth ing, Hats Boots, Shoes, No tions, Hardware, CROCKERY and GROCERIES. PITTSBOROMf. C. NORTH CAROLINA STATE LIFE INSURANCE CO., OUT RALEIGH, K. CAR. f. H. CAMERON, JVnfcbnf . W. E. ANDERSON. Vict rrta. W. H. HICKS, fte'y. The only Home Life Insurance Co. in the State. All its fund loaned out AT HOME, and among our own people. We do not send North Carolina money abroad to build up other States. It is one of the most successful com panies of Its ago in the United States. Its as sets are amply sulncient. All losses paid j):o nptly. Eight thousand dollars paid in the Lst two years to families in Chatham. It will cost a man aged thirty years only five cents a day to insure for one thousand dollars. Apply for further Information to H.A. LONDON, Jr., Gen. Agt. PITTSBOKO', N. C. Dr. A. D. MOORE, PICTSBOILO', N. c, 60rs Ms professional sirwioes to tie oltlseas of Cbuh.ra. With . experlec of thirty year hs bup to give satire stif action. JOHN MANNING, Attorney at Law, PITTSBORO', IT. 0., Praailtes la the Courts of Chatham, Harnett, Msere and Orange, and la the Supreme and Fedtraj Csr:s. O. 8. POE, Sealer in Dry 3oodi, Qroosrisa & General Marchandlie, All kinds of Plows and Castings, Buggy Mslsrltls, furniture, oto. riTTSBonc, n: car. GOOD BYE. Good bye, little ferns : The green feathery plumes That you waved la the summer no hlarh. Have grown brown and sere, now autumn Is near wooa-Dy little lorn., O, good-ny. 1 bid yon good-hy For the good you hare done; Ton have crown lu the suuliirht ant! rain. Atid with leafy plumes and woodland perfumes. Adorned rorest, valley, and plain. Farewell, little ferns! Tou have changed your green rolies or ami g-ariuents of russet and srrav: Tour lowly bent heads, your cold, frosty beds Bhow plainly your coining decay. Adieu, little ferns. Tender children of spring. And of tuiumer't verdure moBt fair: The keen frosts apiiear. your bed-time is near. our couch now nature does prepare. Good-night, little ferns, Summer's beauties are gone; And dull brown Is eaoh pasture and Held; And the trees, once gay in uutuiun array, To earth now their withered leaves yield. Rest now, little ferns. While the trees o'er your heads Scatter brown, withered leaflet around. Toeover you warm, from eacli chilly stunn, Till sweet resurrection lb found. Good by, lUtte ferns. Chilly days have now come. And we know that your bed-time is nigh; The giant trees keep a watch o'er your sleep. i.mmI-! little ferns. O, good-by! Portland Tranteript m SUNKEN TREASURES. Wheu the uneasy waves of life subside. And the soothed ocean sleeps lu glassy rest. I see submerged, beyond or storm or tide. The treasures gathered lu Its greedy breast. 1 see them gleaming beautiful as when Erewhlle they floated, convoys of my fate ; The barks of lovely women, noble men, Full sailed with hope, and stored with love's own freight. The snnkeu treasures of my heart as well Look np to me as perfect as at dawn : My golden palace heaves beneath the swell To meet iny touch, and is again withdrawn. There wait the recognitions, the quick ties. Whence the heart knows its kin wherever cast ; And there the partings, when the wistful eyes Caress each other, as they look their last. There lie the summer eves, delicious eves, The soft green valleys drenched with light dlvlue, The lisping murmurs of the chestnut leaves. The hand that lay, the eyes that looked lu mine. I see them all, but stretch my arms lu vain ; Ko deep sea plummet reaches where they rest ; Xo running diver shall descend the main And bring a single jewel from its breast. Bayard Taylr. TOM AND THE TELEPHONE. CHAPTER I. If my friend, Tom Russell, had been very slightly iu love or very conceited, he would have given up the pursuit of Bessie Gordon, lie would not have thought it wcrth his while to make a girl love him, who could give no reason lor not loving him. Or if he had been conceited he would have concluded there was some thing wrong in her and not in himself, and let it go at that. Tom was 30 year6 old, somewhat bald and near-sighted, but otherwise in a good state of repair. He was a "jolly," good natured chap, fond of ladies' society, but always guilty of what one of them called his "delicious impudence," which was both a sign and a cause of his general in difference to any serious deportment or intention toward them. But the time came at last for losing his heart, as it came for losing his hair. Bessie and two other old school friends of his sister came down to make a visit one fall at his home in Suydam Park, twenty miles from New York. In three days Tom was head over ears in love with Bessie, and in less than a week would have proposed to her, when suddenly her "cousin," a tall, handsome, bright-eyed, curly-haired young fellow appeared and gave Tom a dreadful turn. Although there was Tom's sister and the twoother girls to flirt with, Charley Noble persisted in monopolizing his "cousin's" time and attention, uutil Tom became al most rude to him in spite of his being his guest. Finally Tom, in desperation, took her out sailing on the river and iutimated that he loved her as no man ever loved a woman before. She had become so ac customed to his bantering ways with women that she supposed he was joking as usual and declined the honor he pro posed paying her. The more he plead the more she refused, thinking that it was only "some of his nonsense." Tom was as much dejected as he was rejected, and was afraid that the "hand some cousin" had, as he bitterly said to himself, a "chattel mortgage" on her. He only wished he knew if he had fore closed it. He asked his sister about it, but she couldn't tell him. She had her own curiosity on the subject, but hadn't been able to satisfy it. Shortly after this Charley Noble fell and sprained his ankle, and then Tom thought his time had surely come. But it was worso than ever; for the girls, and especially Bessie, he thought, hung around "the fellow's' lounge, read to him, bathed his head, and made as much fuss over him as if he had lost his leg in some glori ous battre for his country's cause. As soon as he was well the visitors departed and the last Tom saw of them in the train, Charley Noble's long arm was resting on the upper edge of the back seat and look ing as if it might fall oft. If it did Tom was sure "the fellow" was just impudent enough to see that it fell in the inside in stead of the outside of the seat. But after they had gone Tom thought it over and made ap bis mind not to give it up so easily. "Like enough," he said to himself. "She thought I wasn't in ear nest. I'll prove I am by asking her until she consents." So he went up to the city one evening, and on his way to Mr. Gordon's house encountered a friend about his own age, George Adriance, who had been making some interesting experiments with a view to improving the telephone. He claimed to have added a "resounder," which gathered up all the sounds in a room in such a way that ordinary conversation could be transmitted without applying the mouth to the tube. 'Come up to my room," he said, after slapping Tom on the back and saying, "Hulloa, I want you to try my 'resoun der.' " So Tom followed him up three flights of stairs and through a corridor along which flaunted, like bannerets, many colored signs, with white, green, black and gilded letters, and transom windows, like friezes, illuminated with gaily painted numerals. Names of well-known artists and of literary celebrities greeted the eye, for there during the daylight wert their worx-rooms. His friend showed Tomhis "resounder," and the working of the key also, an im provement by which various stations and instruments in different parts of the city could be connected and .shut off at plea sure, He pressed the lever and they heard the Sergeant of Police at one of the stations give orders to arrest two burglars just then crawling out of the back window ol a house with the body of a millionire whose funeral had not yet been celebrated, H turned it again and they heard a poli tical audience gathering in a large hall, shouting and stamping, and crying party cries. Another brought the sounds of a quarrel between a stage manager in a theater and one of the prineip al actresses, who declared she wouldn't appear that night unless the manager agreed to pay her for the damage done to her new dress which was torn the night before by a hook in one of the "flies" on her way to becom ing a cherub. "I should think it would be very em barrassing," said Tom, "it makes a city one vast whispering gallery. Asmodeus need not take oft' the roofs to know what is going on." Yes," said his friend, coolly. "I ex pect to hear some very comic, perhaps tragic, results from its use; but the remedy is easy. People must learn to disconnect their machines when they're done using them. But I'm already thinking of an automatic attachment which will need to be held down while the instrument is in use, and disconnect it when the hand is taken oft"." Then Adriance excused himself a few moments while he went into his bed-room adjoining, telling Tom that he would walk along with him. Tom sat there amusing himself by trying various speci mens ot the talk "on tap" before him. By chance he hit the key a little harder than usual and sent it half way 'round the graduated circle on which it revolved. Tom started; his eyes, or his ears, or both, almost bursting their ligatures with astonishment. "1 loved you, darling," said the fami liar voice of Charley Noble, "weeks ago when we sat around the fireside, when another sought you, when he walked with you and sailed away with you, and I was a prisoner of pain and weakness." (), I wish I had appreciated that," said a voice which thrilled Tom with un utterable anguish. "I would have been rejoiced to have had a right to nurse and console you." "But 1 feared," said Charley, "that his lightest word and happiest mood was far more to you than my deepest feeling or worst tortures." "He," said Bessie so gently, so compas sionately, "is worthy of a true woman's love. I hope he will win it some day." "I can't quite realize it, my darling," said the other; although the dear truth is part of my very existence, that I have won the love of a woman, even the hem and folds of whose garments seem to re flect her graciousness." Tom's brain whirled. Anger and jeal ousy overcame even the compassion of Bcs.ie's voice and word3. His first im pulse was to rush into her presence and denounce her perfidy. But remembering where he was, he almost smiled at his childish wrath which had deluded him. A young devil for the world is getting too populous for one Satan, and he has taken numerous offspring into partner shipurged him to crash in upon their cooing with some wild words which would horrify them and make them blush and tingle at the thought of their exposing their innermost confidences to a listening world. But Tom took that infant Satan by the throat and strangled the life out of him and threw him behind him. And he felt disgraced at his sitting there, an oaf, an eaves-dropper, listening to revelations that were meant only for the sacrednesi of lovers' privacy. Of course he didn't care a picayune for Charlev Noble's feel ings, and had he loved Bessie less he would not have cared for hers; but there was a fine-grained chivalry in him which was fretted and offended by this listening, even to what so nearly concerned him. Again the sweet voice from the instru ment, which his friend had so perfected that it transmitted tones very clearly, smote bis ears. He resolutely turned away. His finer instincts seemed to seize him as justice collars a rogue, and handed him his hat and marched him into the hall and down the flights of stairs and thrust him on to the sidewalk, to cool his jealousy and rage. Then he remembered that his friend was to walk with him and presently he came down. Tom muttered some excuse about "it's getting to hot for him up there." "By the way," said Adriance, "we had a most interesting seance at Gordon's last evening. I put in one of my 'resounders' into his library; and there were about a dozen of as pleasant people as I ever met. That Miss Gordon is a lively young wo man." "Who else was there ?" gasped Tom. "Well, Prof. Brocksby, and a splendid looking fellow who goes there very often, I believe, and uses his eyes as telephones with Miss Gordon Charley Noble, and "Good night!" said Tom abruptly turn ing away. His jealousy got possession of him again as the words he had heard once more rang in his ears, and his imagina tion pictured the caresses which might have accompanied them, and kisses which "Hopeless fancy feigned on lips" that were meant for another. What right had she to listen to such imper tinences or reply to them as she didl She had deceived him. It was unwomanly and indelicate in her to allow even her cousin to talk so. The delightful words she had wasted on this other man, Tom had reserved for himself some day. He had spoken for her long since. What right had that man to interfere with his prior claim? If she could not satisfy his own, she had no right to tolerate an other's. He went on in this wild way as if he had not had a refusal from her, but a re fusal of her. He was wroth with her, and "to be wroth with those we love doth work like madness in the brain." Then he became calmer and cursed himself for a fool. Then he thought tenderly of her. Then he grew hot again with his baffled passion and suddenly found himself, so wrapt he had been with his emotions, in front of Mr. Gordon's house. In a spasm of desperation and reckless ness he walked up the steps, rang the bell, asked for Miss Gordon and was shown into the parlor. The sliding doors of the library in the rear were open, and he went boldly forward into that room. The fire b'irned brightly on the newly swept hearth. The chairs were set in precision. The books were piled on the table in rectangular order. There were noneofthose signs of disturbance which lovers generally leave upon the usual primness of a room, and which, to the observing, are as visible as the imprints of footsteps on the leaves, twigs and grass to the keen-eyed savage. Tom could not believe his senses. Scarcely fifteen minutes before he had heard their voices.in that very room for there was the telephone in a corner. They were engaged, too, in a conversation that people are not in the habit of breaking off abruptly and then flying apart from each other as if they had finished a busi ness bargain. He wondered if Noble were still in the house. He could not be lieve he would have gone off like that. Then he wondered if he himself were in the right house. Perhaps his near sightedness had deceived him. Houses repeated themselves so tediously in these city blocks. He looked around. On the table lay a book with a mottled brown, black and russet cover and split back. It was 100 years old. It had quaintly en graved head -pieces and guide words at the foot of each page. He had heard Miss Gordon speak of it. It was morally im possible that two such volumes should be lying in two houses built and furnished alike. He opened it and discovered the Gordon coat-of-arms. Almost immediately he heard light footsteps in the room and Bessie was coin ing forward, serene and self-possessed. She gave him her hand frankly and for the moment made Tom forget his troubles in his admiration for her sweet voice, her well-bred gestures, her dainty attire, her heartiness and her sincerity. Her eye caught 6ight of the telephone, and she told him about the experiments with it the evening before. "By the way," she said, going to the instrument, "can you tell how it closes? 1 was thinking it would be very disagree able if it were carelessly left so that other people could hear what was said." Tom examined it, said it was open, and closed it. "To be sure," she went on, "there is seldom anything said that one cares to conceal, but one would feel awkward if she knew anybody had been listening to her free-spoken thoughts." She said this calmly. Not a blush or a stammer hinted that within a quarter of an hour she might have been revealing to "Dick" and "Harry," as well as to Tom, emotions to which most young women hardly dare give full expression even to those who have a right to hear them. "Good heavens! ' said Tom to himself. "What kind of a girl is this that can talk so coolly about such matters and pretend she has no secrets, fifteen minutes after she has been talking to her lover?" He was astonished at this ugly mask over a woman he had worshiped. "Why," he burst o .t, "wasn't Charley Noble here j ust now ?" She hesitated a moment. "I believe so." Then she said in a careless manner: "Bnt I did not see him. I wonder if he has gone." Tom was lost in admiratiou at the con summate acting, and overwhelmed with disgust at her hypocrisy. Was 6he a coquette ? Did she delight in torturing him ? Freezing him and thawing him at her pleasure? Iler character did not ring so clear to him as it did. He detected already the beginning of a flaw that might some time spoil it entirely. He became vague and distraught in his talk and Manner, and 60on after took his leave. CHAPTER II. PLAIN ENOUGH WHEN YOU UNDERSTAND IT. As the morning sun shed no light upon Tom's perplexities, he went about his business feeling much disgusted with life. His sister, Carrie, proposed to him to run into the city that night and go with the two Miss Belnaps, her friends, to a private entertainment for the benefit of some charity. "I wonder which it is," sneered Tom, "the Anti-Corn and Bunion League, or the Society for the Suppression of Par boiled Fiugers Among Pious Washer women ?" However, as he was anxious for any thing that would make the wheels of time revolve faster, he consented. Scarcely were they seated, Carrie and the elder Miss Belnap two or three seats away, when Tom discovered Bessie Gordon a few seats in front. He longed to speak to her in spite of his previous evening's ex perience, and he became. 60 absorbed in looking at her that he was inattentive to the younger Miss Belnap, who sat next to him, and made himself ridiculous by say ing 'yes" when he ought to have said "no." Miss Belnap heard Carrie so praise his politeness and quick-wittedaess that she was disappointed, and set him down as his sister's "curled darling," if you could so call a partially bald-headed young man. "He is dreadfully over-rated," thought Mis3 Belnap. "What fools some sisters a re! ' As he sat glum and stupid he suddenly thought himself the sport of an insane dream, as he heard something from one of the actors on the stage in the play of ''Black Spots and Blue," Charley No ble replying: "I loved you, darling, weeks ago, when we sat around the fireside, when another walked with you, and sailed away with you, and I was the prisoner of pain and weakness." Tom rubbed his head and felt of his ears. "O, I wish I had appreciated that," re plied the lady, and the colloquy went on to the point where Tom had ceased to lis ten to it the evening before. "Good gracious!" he exclaimed, loud enough to attract the attention of those in the seats before him. He turned to Miss Belnap and asked eagerly : " Who is she ? Who is she ? Do you know?" She had become so piqued at his indif ference that she replied, imitating his own manner toward her: "Know? No. Yes. I believe so," in a drawling, abstracted tone. Tom felt that she meant something, but he was too much engrossed with his own affairs to tell just what it was. "I wish you would tell me, please, if you know," he said, in a beseeching tone. "I will, with pleasure," she said: "I don't know." At the very first intermission' he went Lack to his sister, Miss Beluap saying to herself: "Well, if that's an agreeable young man I like the other kind. They are cer tainly more interesting." "Who it that nlavintr 'Ethel ? " asberl Tom in great excitement. "As if you didn't know," said his sister. "Didn't know!" echoed Tom, still more bewildered, "why of course it had oc curred to me ." "O, then, you did recognize it?" "Recognize it!" again echoed Tom. What should his sister know about his "recognizing" it when no mortal but him self probably knew what passed between Bessie and Charley Noble. "Yes, Mr. Echo, recognize it the voice," said his sister. "The voice!'' again repeated Tom ludi crously. "See here, Tom, if you go on in this way we'll set you up as a natural curiosity on the bank of the river and have the whistle blown and the bugle played to amuse the passengers." "Who is she?" asked Tom almost sternly his patience gone. "Why, Agnes Dewitt, Bessie's half sister. I had only to shut my eyes to hear Bessie's own voice." Tom might have replied that it made him open his. "I thought the was a little girl." "So she was," said Elizabeth, "but that's a thing girls outgrow, yon know. However, even now she's not a contem porary of the pyramids, exactly." "But I mean a young thing away at school." "Bessie has always talked about her in that way; but that's a habit. You know what allowance we still make for you, Tom," said his sister with a light l.iugh. Tom returned to his seat. The clouds had suddenly lifted. His sense of the ridiculous showed him clearly what a fool he had made of himself raging and tear ing his heartstrings over a stupid quota tion from a play, which he had heard Charley Noble and Agnes Dewitt repeat ing, just before going to a rehearsal the evening before. Miss Belnap was quite astonished at the change in him, he was so gay and good natured. "1 shall have to be introduced again to a certain gentleman," she said; 1 hardly know him." Tom guessed what she meant and re plied: "These certain gentlemen are 'mighty uncertain' sometimes." After the play Tom proposed to his sister to invite Miss Bessie Gordon to take supper with them at a neighboring restau rant. He was in high spirits. If he hadn't caught his fish, at least it was swimming free of the other fellow's line. "I wish I could find out from some in telligent person," said Tom's Miss Belnap, "who it was that played the part of "Ethel." I asked one gentleman if he knew, and he said 'Yes,' and that was all I could get out of him. So I tried again. 'Are you bound by an oath not to reveal her name?' 'No.' 'Will you tell me?' Yes. ' It sounded j ust like spirit-rappih g, 'Charlev Gordon 'and then T crave it un. But in less than five minutes after all that he asked me if knew her." Tom blushed the color of the straw berries he was eating, which, at that season of the year, were almost as great a rarity us his blushes, and Bessie laughed. "1 don't know what we shall do with the child," she said. "She insists upon going on the stage, and papa is very much disturbed, because people have their pre judices, you know; they feel that they are dinerent from lawyers, or clergymen, or doctors, or merchants, or teachers or even artists and writers. But the says if we don't let her, she'll kill herself study ing mathematics, and becoming a female astronomer, or be found dead with the fatal manuscript on political economy by her side." "I thought she was much younger," said Tom. "You always gave the idea that she was in her toddling infancy." "She's always been so to me. Her years have been just like a 'nest' of tables; it's very plain when you look at the big gest and the smallest, but between any other two you can't tell which is which. I could scarcely believe it when I heard people talking about her this evening." "Or refusing to talk about her?" said Miss Belnap. "I felt a little shocked in spite of my pride in her," continued Bessie. "That's where one s sensitiveness would come in, I suppose if she should become an actress to see her name in the papers, to have people commenting on her nose, and eyes, and teeth; it doesn't seem as if her voiae would belong to her any more; they'd criticise and talk about it so." "They might think it belonged to some one else," thought Tom, and then he said aloud: but "that's altogether the but way of losing her voice, if she's going to be an actress." "Well, I suppose there's no use worry ing about it," said Bessie. "Somebody says our worst misfortunes are those which never befall us." "That is so," said Tom with the zeal of a new convert to an old truth. Tom was introduced to Miss Agnes. Her voice was both like and unlike her sister's. Of course Tom thought it was not so sweet, but the inflections were similar. Tom took an early opportunity to tell Bessie Gordon his mistake and the pain and disappointment it had caused him. ' I thought, of course, it was your cousin Charley. He was so attentive to you at our house." Bessie s musical laugh rang out. "O," she said, "he's dead in love with Agnes and he wants my aid in recom mending him to father and inducing her to give up her stage mania." This is Tom Russell's story told with a straight face. His wife Bessie eat and heard him through and then said: "What nonesense! Don't you believe it! He came to call on me that evening and sat in the parlor, and fell asleep waiting for me to come down stairs. Charley and Agnes were rehearsing in the next room, and he heard them play next evening. But the telephone incident was all in his dream, as he sat asleep." But Tom insisted, and I have never yet found out the exact truth of the matter. Detroit Free Preet. The London Freemason under the heading "General Tidings," says: "It is estimated that there are two thousand four hundred disorders to which the human frame is liable. When a man is laid up with rheuma tism, he may well think that the en tire number has struck him in concert." you know. Ihen 1 waited and waited, and at last, in perfect desperation, I said: 'What is her name, please?' and he said LEGENDARY NAMES OF WILD FLOWERS AND PLANTS. We take from an interesting Wtnre nf the Rev. Mr. Tuckwell, of Somerset shire, England, what he says about the names of plants derived from the legends and traditions connected with them. Many curious bits of myth and history reveai uiemseives as we excavate down to these old meanings. The Pajony, or healing plant, commemorates the Ho meric god Peon, the first physician of uie gocts, wno tended tne bellowing Ares when smarting from the snenr nf T)in. med. The Centaury is the plant with which me centaur uniron salved the wound inflicted bv the noisoned arrow of Hercules. The Ambross, or Wormwood is the immortal food which Venus gave t-. i t u x t i. i w xiuccio uuu i upuer io jrsyene uie Sanskrit amrita which Kehama and Kailval auaff in Southev's atilendid poem. The Anemone, or Wind-flower, sprang irom tue tears wept by Venus over the body of Adonis, as the rose SDraner from his blood. The T)n.nhnn Syringa, Andromeda, tell their own iaieB. rue last, wnicn you may nna in the Deat-bocrs round Shanwio.k Station i due to the delicate fancy of Lhiureus,who urst uiscoverea ana namea it, bloom ing lonely on a barren, rocky isle, like the daughter of CeDheus. chained to her sea-washed cliff. The Juno Rose, or long white lily, was blanched by milk which fell from the bosom of Juno, the tale being transferred in Roman Catho lic mythology to the Virgin Mary and the Milk Thistle. The yellow Carline Thistle is named after Carl the Great (in Mr. Freeman's county I must not call him Charlemagne), who, praying earn estly for the removal of a pestilence which had broken out in his army, saw in a vision an angel pointing out this plant as a Heaven-sent cure. The Herb Robert healed a disease endured by Rob ert. Duke of Normfttid v. still known in Germany as KuprechVs plague. The Fil- V,im4- iL:n -j : a. uciiuuugu mis is uispuieu, commemo rates the horticultural skill of one King Philibert. Treacle Mustard, a showv crucifer, resembling the Wall-flower, was an ingredient in the famous Venice treacle, compounded, as vou will re member, by Way land Smith to treat me poison sicKness- or the Duke or Sussex. The word treacle is corrupted from the Greek theriacum, connected with wild beasts, whose blood formed part of the antidote. It was first made un by the nhvsician to Mithridates. king of Pontus, and is still in many ri v .uujauu nuunu no ju.iiiiiiiua.bc Mustard. The Flower-de-luce, oi fleur-de-lvs. is the flower of Kin t Louis, hav ing been assumed as a royal device by Louis VII., of France, though legend figures it on a shield brought down from Heaven to Clovis, when fight ing against the Saracens. It is pro- Daoiy a wmte ins. Not a few strange superstitions and beliefs are embalmed in well-known names. The Celandine, from Chelidon. the swallow, exudes a yellow juice, which, applied by the old birds to the eyes of the young swallows who are born blind or have lost their sight, at once restores it. The Hawkweed has the same virtue in the case of hawks. The Fumatory, fume-terre, was pro duced without seed by smoke or vapor arising from the ground. The Devil's bit is a common Scabious, with a premorse or shortened root, which was used SO successfully for all manner nf diseases that the Devil snitefullv bit it off, and forever checked its growth. xne -uyeDrigni, eupnrasy, was given to cure ophthalmia. Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed. Then purged with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see." The Judas tree, with its thorns and pink blossoms, was the tree on which Judas hanged himself. The Mandrake gathered round itself a host of wild credulities. It was the Atropa Man- dragora, a plant nearly allied to the deadly Night-shade, but with a large iorKed tuber, resembling the human form. Hence it was held to remove sterility, a belief shared by Rachel, in the Book of Genesis, and" was sold for high prices in the middle ages, with this idea. In fact, the demand being greater than the supply, the dealer used to cut the large roots of the White Bryony into the figure of a man and insert grains of wheat or millet in the bead and face, which soon sprouted and grew, producing the semblance of hair and beard. These monstrosities fetched in Italy as much as thirtv gold ducats, and were sold largely, as Sir T. Brown tells us, in our own coun try. It was thought that the plant would grow only under a murderer's gibbet, being nursed by the fat which fell from his decaying body ; hence it formed an ingredient in the love philtries and other hell-broths of witches, and, as it was believed that the root when torn from the earth emitted a shriek, which brought death to those who heard it, all manner of terrible de vices were invented to obtain it. The readers of Thalaba will remember the fine scene in which the witch Khawla procures the plant to form part of the waxen figure of the Destroyer. It is not uncommon in Crete and Southern Italy. Its fruit is narcotic ; and its name is probably derived from mandra, an enclosed, overgrown place, such as forms its usual home. Independent A LIFE RIDDLE SOLVED. Once upon a time, the conversation having turned, in the presence of Dr. Franklin, upon riches, and a young person in the company having ex pressed his surprise that they should ever be attended with such an anxiety and solicitude, instancing one of his ac quaintances, who though in possession of unbounded wealth, yet was as busy and more anxious than the most as siduous clerk in his counting-house; the doctor took an apple and presented it to a little child, who could just tot ter about the room. The child could scarcely grasp it in its hand. He than gave it another, which occupied the other hand. Then choosing a third, re markable in size and beauty, he pre sented that also. The child, after many ineffectual attempts to hold the three, dropped the last on the carpet, and buist into tears. "See there," said the philosopher, "there is a little man with more riches than he can enjoy!" There is a renort that M Clom mn intends to devote himself exclusivel y to snulntiire for the ncrf. i v pon an A then drop art altogether. ' A German naner aava that the re- neater rifle, the invention nf an Ana. trian Captain, is the best military weapon in existence, and hints at its adoption in the German army in place ui iue .Mauser. Last September a census was taken of the Japanese islands. The total population of the empire was 34,338,404. Of these, 1,036,771 dwell in Yeddo, or, as the inhabitants name it, Tokio, in 233,061 houses, being about 4.37 oc cupants for each house. . The Readine Railroad Cornnanv ' s Locomotive that was. exhibited at Paris, and which has since been tented satisfactorily on the Eastern and North ern railways oi n ranee, has been run ning in Switzerland, being the first American encine to run unon Swiss railroads. Of 17,000 euns constructed bv Herr Krupp at his works at Essen dur ing the last twenty-three years, only sixteen have burst, and nearly all of these were destroyed during trials un dertaken to test their power of resist ance or endurance, and when, conse quently, they were loaded with charges heavier then they were designed to fire. Scotland has been considered the most wary, cautious and hard-headed of all lands, and yet the scheme of pay ing tne debts or shareholders in the City of Glasgow Bank through a colos sal lottery is to be tried. Six millions, ot feo tickets, are to be issued, and half of the proceeds is to be paid to the liquidators and the remainder is to be apportioned among the shareholJers as prizes. An order lias recently been issued at the I'ost-cffice DepHrtinti.t. in Washington, discontinuing from and after the close of the present quarter, Aiarcn jist, ly, the local agencies lor the sale of postage stamps, etc., in some of the larger cities. A discount of two per cent, is allowed such agents, repre senting a loss of between $40,000 and $.0,U0J a year to the Government, tor which it is thought no equivalent is re ceived. Fourteen cities have these agencies and among them Washing ton. A clock made entirely of bread has lately been received in Milan, Italy, from reru. It was constructed by an Indian, who, having no means of pur chasing material, saved a portion of the soft part of his daily bread for the purpose. He solidified it with a certain salt, which rendered it very hard and insoluble in water. The clock keeps good time, and the case, also of hardened bread, displays artistic talent. A well-dressed middle-aged woman occupied rooms several days in the Brunswick Hotel, Boston, paid her bills in lull, and was liberal with gifts to the employees. On her departure she ordered an elaborate . supper for 500 persons, to be sent to her suburban home, accompanied by cooks and waiters. The stuff was taken at the appointed time to the place indicated, but the woman had no home there, bhe was a lunatic, and had escaped from an asylum. The Lighting Committee of the Paris Municipality have reported in favor of a twelve months' experiment. The Avenue del'Opera, the Place dela Bastile, and one of the market build ings are to be lighted by electricity at a charge not exceeding six cents per hour for each burner, and the gas com pany is to light the Rue du (juatre Septembre and the Place du Chateau d'Eau in an improved fashion at an extra charge of not more than one cent per cubic metre. A young gentleman of eighteen, at Springfield, Mass., with an annual in come of $lu6, wedded secretly a school young lady of seventeen. On Sunday he called at her residence and his un conscious mother-in-law said her daughter was not at home. The hus band forced his way in to see for him self; the old lady called for a neighbor to put him out, and the bride darted forth and threw herself into the arms of her husband, who brandished aloft a copy of the Boys of New York and shouted: "Behold me lawful wedded wife." But they fired him out, and his lawful wedded wife was ignominiously chastised and sent supper less to bed. The building operations of New York and Philadelphia differ greatly in the character of the houses erected for the inhabitants of the two cities. Dur ing the last eleven years the average number of first-class dwellings built in New York has been 570 per annum, the average value of each being $16,000. The average number of second-clasi dwellings (costing $3700 each) has been 174 per annum, but of tenements and French flats there have been 684 per annum built during the last eleven years. It appears very clearly from these returns that the larger number of dwelling houses were built for wealthy people, while the poorer mechanics and tradesmen were, for the greater part, condemned to live in tenement houses. In .Philadelphia last year, although fewer dwelling houses tnan usual were erected, there were 2275 two and three atory dwellings built, besides 138 stores and dwellings combined, but no tene ments. New York in eleven years built about nineteen hundred small dwellings, including frame "shanties," (which were not separately reported until 1875), but in 1878 alone Philadel phia built ever twelve hundred two story dwellings, and this was le33 than the average number for the last ten years. Besides these there were pro uably as many more cheap three-story dwellings which could fairly be com pared with the class of houses of which New York built only nineteen hundred in eleven years. New York expends more money on a very much smaller number of buildings than Philadelphia. The whole number of new buildings erected in New York "last year was 1672; the number in Philadelphia 29Q2. k 1 m m .ex f-j li-W,'!' 1 m ij"., IS "T 1 1 n lis! 1 'M iV'-l ! iivf If 11 m t4 ij rvT I J" .I it: rfVH . 1 ;4 1 tfl