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PITTSB01iO CHATHAM CO., N. C, SEPTEMBER 8, 1881.
NO. 52.
For larger advertisements liberal contracts wJtf
Camilla.
Fatigued by rooilern belles in town,
. In country ami suburban villa,
I take my old school Virgil down,
And read the story of Camilla
An exile king to mountain lair
Retreating bears his infant daughter ;
Her nurture- all a father's care,
Her lore the forest-craft he taught her.
With tiny hand she bends the bow,
Around her tender waist a quiver,
And on her cheeks the crimson glow
That happiness and freedom give her.
Bhe wears no bodice silken-laced.
No clouds of Tyrian dye enfold her,
But tigress skill in savage taste
Depending from an ivory shoulder ;
No gold confines her raven hair,
The dear delight of mountain breezes,
It floats nntrammclled'on the air,
Or hangs as happy nature pleases.
Twin buskins guard her fairy feet
From cruel flint and frosty weather,
Their tread so delicately fleet
As scarce to bend the blooming heather
And roaming thus, a huntress child,
Liko Dian's younger, fairer sister,
Ko game, however strong or wild,
In all the woodland could resist her.
At sweet sixteen Camilla won
Such peerless fame of budding beauty
That many a mother urged her son
To lure the maid from filial duty ;
But when some youth of courtly graco
Accosted her with lover's greeting,
:lie hook her arrowB in his face,
And clapt her hands at his retreating.
So dear to her those forest glades,
With virgin liberty to range them,
Her mountains with their wild cascades
She could not for a palace change them.
And so she kept, example rare !
' 'In jndcJo-o corpore mens sana,"
For aged father all her care,
And all her kisses for Diana,
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
Mrs. Carleton, a widow of easy for
tune, resided on a fashionable street in
Xew York with an only child, a daugh
ter. In her youth, Mrs. Carleton had
married a man much older and ni re
rich than herself, in obedience to the
will of her parents. A few years after
ward he died, leaving one child.
An airy, sprightly girl was Lucy
Carleton. The merry, roguish eye, the
gay laugh, all betokened a breast undis
turbed by care. She was now seven
teen, and no disappointment had as yet
made her unhappy. She was lovely,
too ; could she be el?e, so young and
innocent ?
It was a lovely summer day, and Lucy
Carleton and Henry Marsh were seated
on the veranda adorning one side of a
f ashionable hotel at the seaside. Henry
Marsh united with a well-ordered intel
lect all the manners of a gentleman.
Cultured and affable, he had gained
what he had merited, the esteem of all
who were fortunate to be acquainted
with him. He had but one drawback,
and that, alas! the most unfortunate
one want of money.
They sat together, Henry holding the
girl's hand in his, and looking toward
the sea. It was indeed a sublime scene
on which they looked. The beach ex
tended for miles along the shore, a
charming alternation of cragged rocks,
forming bold headlands, sandy beaches
and inlets.
"And you think, Henry, that my
mother would not consent ?" said Lucy,
continuing the conversation that had
been proceeding.
Her eyes were cast down, and the
slightest suspicion of a blush was upon
her cheek.
"Yep," said Henry. "What preten
tions have I ? A man of wealth and
position like Mr. Dawes may hope but
such as I can hope for nothing."
True love is always accompanied with
doubt. It is difficult for the heart
filled with tenderness to persuade itself
tnat the object of its affectioncan recip
rocate the feeling. Sometimes Henry
would suspect Lucy of loving Mr.
Dawes, and thus he lived in conflicting
hopes and fears.
"Surelj you do not distrust me?" said
Lucy, looking earnestly into his face.
"No, indeed," replied Henry. "But
have I not cause for suspecting that Mr.
Dawes is my rival, and that your mother
likes him much better than she does
me?"
"I confess you have," said Lucy ; "he
is continually calling here ; but he
must see how coldly I receive him. I
would sooner die than marry him 1"
"You will not favor his suit, then ?"
said Harry, anxiously.
"How can you ask me such a ques
tion ?" exclaimed Lucy, in an indignant
tone.
"Thanks I" said Henry. "If I doubted
you now, I should indeed be unworthy
of your love. But hark ! here is your
mother and Mr. Dawes. I will not let
them eee me here. Adieu, darling, for
a time !"
Scarcely had he disappeared when
Mrs.. Carleton and Mr. Dawes entered.
When the latter saw Lucy he started
back guiltily and rather precipitately
took his leave, leaving mother and
laughter alone.
"Will you let me have a talk with
you ?" said Mrs. Carleton addressing her
daughter.
"li'v," paid Lucy, with the air of a
martyr.
My child," continued her mother,
"you are now of an age to think of get
ting settled in life. There is a gentle
man who calls here very often, and who,
I am certain, loves you very much. I
can assure you that he fully deserves
your love in return
"Mamma," said Lucy, with set lips
and in a measured, firm voice, "I know
whom yon mean, but it is in vain. I do
not love him, and I cannot bestow my
hand where I cannot also bestow my
heart."
"How?" said the astonished mother,
"Do you not love ?"
"No, no," Lucy interrupted. "I do
not love him, so say no more if you
please, mamma."
"Is it possible that I have been so
much mistaken ?" said Mrs. Carleton,
overcome with embarressment.
"It is," answered Lucy, "and to be
candid, I love some one else."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Carleton,
holding down her head, and blushing
youthfully, "I I want to take this op
portunity of telling you that I am go
ing to be married."
"Married? You?" exclaimed Lucy,
as much astonished as if a thunder-bolt
had fallen at her feet.
"And have you not suspected it ?"
asked her mother, smiling shyly. "When
I was a young girl, and before I had ex
perienced the misery of a forced mar
riage with your father, I loved and was
loved by a young man who was my
father's secretary. When I married,
we parted and he went to India. Some
few weeks ago, while walking down the
beach, I met him, and we recognized
each other at once."
"And his name is "
"Dawes," interrupted Mrs. Carleton,
as she arose from the chair, and then
hastily left the room, not hearing Lucy's
call, who wished to explain the mistake
that had occurred a few minutes before.
That evening was glorious. Henry
Marsh was sauntering slowly down the
beach toward the hotel, when suddenly
a piece of paper, borne along by the
breeze, whiffed into his face. He has
tily caught it and saw that it was a note,
which opening, he read as follows
"My Dear Mr. Dawes I have told
her all, so here is your answer. I will
marry you.
"Affectionately your own
"Lucy Carleton."
Nothing can wound a man so deeply
as slighted love or to know that he has
been trifled with. If Lucy could have
seen Henry's face at that moment she
would indeed have cause for alarms.
Unhappy man ! at that very instant
he had been on his way to ask her
mother's consent, and now she was go
ing to marry a man whom but a few
hours ago she had declared she did.not
love.
Slowly he retraced his way home,
and, reaching there, sat beside the win
dow, his throbbing head resting on his
arm. To all human hearts there comes
a terrible hour of grief. Whilst in full
possession of happiness, .Henry had
been so sure of Lucy's affection that he
held it unconcernedly, never dreaming
that it could be taken away. He stood
up, took pen and ink, and wrote to her
the following :
"Miss Carleton: While on my way
to your house this evening, I found your
note to Mr. Dawes. Allow me to return
it, and at the same time to bid you fare
well. Henry Marsh."
After packing his trunks, he had
them sent to the depot, and after paying
his bills, requested the clerk to forward
the letter and was gone.
Lucy was sitting on the veranda when
she received tho letter. When she read
it she turst into tears. Just then her
mother came out, and in answer to her
queries, the girl handed the letter to
her.
"Why, what is this?" exclaimed Mrs.
Carleton, astonished. "I sent this let
ter to Mr. Dawes to-day."
"Yes," saidLucy, "and unfortunately
Henry found it, and now has gone."
And she again commenced to sob.
"And you love him?" said Mrs.
Carleton. "I thought you told me this
morning you did not?"
"No, no I" cried Lucy. "It was
mistake. I supposed yon were talking
of Mr. Dawes."
"Is it possible," said Mrs. Carleton,
laughing. "I will at once write to Mr.
Marsh and explain all. How strange
that he did not know our names were
the same 1"
"Let me entreat you not to write him,
dear mamma," exclaimed Lucy, firmly.
"He should have had more trust in me ;
he doubted me. and so must suffer
for it."
The days went on, and Lucy's merry
laugh was hushed. Her friends, as they
passed her by as she stood looking out
to sea with a vacant stare, would shake
their heads sadlv and whisper, "Poor
Lucy I she is heart-broken."
Strange expression I strange idea
How few there are who at one time or
another have not tasted its bitterness
Oh 1 how many a sad life-history must
wind up with those words of sorrowful
signification I
It was now late in spring. The long
winter had passed ; once more Nature
had put on her smiling garb ; gayly the
birds flitted about the streets, filling
the air with their sweet melody. But,
alas 1 there was no spring in the heart
of poor Lucy. Many times her mother
had entreated her to let her write and
explain all, but Lucy's pride would not
allow it.
On the first of June Mrs. Carleton
and Lucy started for Saratoga. One day,
soon after their arival, Lucy entered the
sitting-room of the grand hotel. She
that saw it was empty, and she sighed
with relief as she sat down on a large
sofa at the end of the room.
She had not been there long when
some one entered and came toward her.
She started slightly and looking up saw
Henry Marsh. She made an effort to
rise, but she had been tried beyond her
strength, and fainted. In a few minutes
& rich tint came over her cheek, and re
turning consciousness to her dark and
tender eyes.
Henry raised her hand to his lips.
"O Lucy, Lucy I how I have wronged
you !" butst from his lips.
He knelt beside her, and said 'with a
voice trembling with emotion,
"Forgive me 1 forgive me 1"
There was a rich, burning color upon
Lucy's cheek ; her lips parted with a
smile, and a glad light shone in her
eye1 s. Henry clasped her to his breast.
"Be mine ! Oh, Lucy ! can you, will
you, forgive me and be my wife ?"
"Yes."
"Bless vou, darling, even as you have
blessed my life."
In a few weeks the two weddings
were celebrate 1 at Saratoga ; and opin
ions were divided as to whether the
mother or daughter was the most charm
ing bride Waverly Magazine.
The "Gentleman" In England.
" Do you call yourself a gentleman?"
is the commonest and most withering
form of sarcasm in use, not only among
snobs, but among costermongers, coal
heavers and the like. To persons of
admit tedpretensions to gentility the
question is frequently put, and perhaps
negatively answered by the questioner
when the superior person declines to
recognize a false or exiiorbitant claim.
Thus not long ago I was asked if I
called myself a gentleman by a "young
lady " at a railway refreshment bar be
cause I demurred at paying her a sov
ereign for not having run away with a
purse I had inadvertently left on the
counter for five minutes. And two of
her friends declared. that I was "no
gentleman," without leaving any doubt
in the matter. I have been called "no
gentleman " for not paying a cabman
three times his fare, and for objecting
to pay in furnished lodgings for articles
which I had neither ordered nor con
sumed. A loafer in the street has
sometimes picked up a glove before I
could pick it up for myself, or told me
hat my handkerchief was hanging out
of my pocket. In any other country
than England the commonest man pay
ing such attentions as these would be
insulted by the offer of a reward, but in
this country I have been freely called
"no gentleman" for not encouraging
the lowest kind of what is vulgarly
called "cadging." It seems, indeed,
that to be a gentleman in the eyes of
large classes of the community you
must pay whatever may be demanded of
vou upon any pretext, and ask no
questions.
Socially, the term " gentleman " has
become almost vulgar. It is certainly
less employed by gentlemen tjian by
inferior persons. The one speaks of " s
man I know," and the other of "a gen
tleman I know." In the one case the
gentleman is taken for granted, in the
other it seems to need specification.
Again, as regards the term " lady." It
is quite in accordance with the usages
of society to speak of your acquaintance,
the duchess, as "a very nice person."
ireopie wno would say, "very nice
lady," are not generally of a social class
which has much to do with duchesses
and if you speak of one of these as
" person" you will soon be made to feel
your mistake. All the Tear Round.
The Mail of the World.
The Frankfurter Volkszeitung pub
lishes statistics of the postal service of
the world. In 1805 the number of let
ters sent through the post all over the
world was estimated 2,300,000. The
available data for 1877 show that the
postal correspondence had risen over
4,020,000,000, which gives an average of
11,000,000 letters per day, or 127 per
second. Europe contributed 3,036,000
000 letters to this enormous mass of cor
respondence; America about 760,000,-
000; Asia, 150,000,000; Africa, 25,
000,000, and Austra in 50,000,000. As
suming that the population of the
globe was between 1.300,000,000 and
1,400,000,000, this would give an aver
age of three letters per head for the
entire human race. The length of tel
egraph lines, both by sea and land
must be at least 700,000 kilometres
(437,500 miles) not reckoning the do uble
treble, etc., lines. There were 28,000
telegraph stations, and the number of
messages may be set down for the year
at between 110,000,000 and 111,000,000,
being an average of over 305,000 mes
sages per day, 14071 per nour, ana
nearly 212 per minute. These quanti
ties are increasing daily.
A DESPERATE FIGHT.
An Old Minister I Mistaken for an Editor
and Assaulted.
Yesterday old uncle Winglop, a time
honored preacher, who has preached
among the hills for forty years, and
who in his younger days was known as
the "wheel-horse exhorter," came to
town and called at the Gazette office.
"My son George," said uncle Jesse to
the political man, "has just graduated
from the old Bed Bluff Academy, and
after sauntering around among the pro
fessions, peeping into lawyer offices and
poking around doctor shops and not
being satisfied, he has concluded to
learn the editing business. I know how
much fun has been made of men who
want to be editors, but of course I un
derstand all that. At first I'd like for
George to take hold of the religious de
partment, for you know that I can help
him some. I've got four or five old ser
mons that I'd like to run in old ser
mons preached long before men thought
of getting out new Testaments. Now,
don't ridicule the idea."
"Uncle Jesse," replied the political
man with something like a sigh, "we'll
hold a cabinet meeting some time dur
ing the present week, when your son's
case will be considered. It is encoura
ging to see that church members are
seeking journalism, and I have no doubt
but that George will bo of advantage to
us. But I must go to dinner now. Just
sit down here among the exchanges and
amuse yourself until I return."
The editor went down, and the old
man took out his spectacles and began
handling papers, with a newly-awakened
idea of importance. The editor had not
been gone but a few moments when a
burly-looking man entered the editorial
room, and seeing the minister sur
rounded by a ruffled landscape of badly-
handled papers, exclaimed :
"All I ask of you is to let me shake
the Little Rock dust from my feet. Do
you hear, you spectacled fragment of a
mortgaged menagerie ?"
"What do you mean?" exclaimed the
old man in surprise.
'Just let me shake this dust off, you
gaping whipperwill of flat-flooted igno
rance. Slander a man as you did me
this morning and then say you don't
know what he means!"
"I never said a word about you in my
life, sir."
"Let me shake off this dust and then
you can slash and slather my memory.
Nice old stretcher of the truth !"
"Do you mean that I have lied, sir?"
"I do."
The old man hopped across the room
and grappled the insulter. The fight
was earnest and terrible, and when the
editor came back the top of the old man's
head was smeared with ink and the in
sulter was lying in the hall.
"Sort of a monkey and parrot time,
as tne teller says, remarked tne old
man. "I say, I believe George will
change his mind. You needn't call that
cabinet meeting. Talk about a relig
ious department ; you ought to have a
sackful of horse pistols !" Little Rock
Gazette.
Vlill S. Hayes
Of Louisville has made a small fortune
by writing songs. Among his popular
compositions are "Mollie Darling,"
"Norah O'Neal," and "Evangeline.
But he got no money from the latter,
though it gave him a start in his busi
ness. " Just before the war," he says,
" I was with some young visitors up in
Oldham county, Ky. Among them was
a beautiful girl who resembled the ideal
pictures of Longfellow's 'Evangeline'
so closely that I called her by that
name. We danced at an out-door frolic,
cna evening, and soon discovered that
four of us could sing together. We
tried popular quartets, and got along so
well that we became enthusiastic.
About two o ciock in tne morning we
started to walk home. The night was
as bright as day, with the full moon
hanging in the sky, and as we walked
we sang. We sat down in a nook to
rest, and 'Evangeline' began to suggest
other songs.to sing. ' Til write you
song, said 1, 11 you 11 promise to sing
it before we go home.' This was agreed
to. On the opposite side of the road
was a white plank fence. Where we
were sitting a party of negroes had been
roasting ears of corn, and the charred
sticks lay all around. With them I
wrote the first verse of the song on the
top plank of the fence, and the notes
for four voices on the four planks be
neath. Then we stood off, and sang it.
The girls were delighted, and insisted
on having a chorus, so I wrote the cho
rus on the planks. Well, we sang it
over and over, and went home singing
it. Next morning 'Evangeline' came
down stairs humming the air, and asked
me to write it out and finish it. I told
her I couldn't do it, but she might go
down and copy -it off the fence. She
took an umbrella and sheet of paper,
and soon came back with words and
music. Then she insisted on having
another verse ; so I wrote another verse,
on condition that I was to have a kiss
for it, and she to have the music."
Hays sent the composition to various
music publishers, but couldn't sell it,
and it was at length made public by the
voice of Campbell, the negro minstrel.
Three hundred thousand copies have
been sold, but the kiss was the only pay
the author has received.
SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION.
Human
Beings Consumed by the Gases of
Their Own Bodies.
Spontaneous combustion of the hu
man body has been, and still is, as much
a question of affirmation and negation
as that of the existence of persons of
double sex, but in poring over some an
cient and modern medical works, com
piled by physicians of high standing
and undoubted veracity, the writer has
found so many well authenticated cases
of spontaneous combustion, that he has
selected a few to present to the readers
of the Enquirer.
As to the cause of this remarkable
phenomenon, various opinions have
been promulgated. A large number of
medical authorities suppose that there
is an alcoholic impregnation of the body,
and that the actual contact of fire is
necessary to produce it. To this it is
replied that in certain cases that have
occurred, there is no proof of such a
saturation of the tissues, and if it were
so it would not render the body com
bustible. Others refer the combustion
to the agency of the electric fluid. This
theory supposes'that inflammable gases
may accumulate in the cellular tissue,
and in a system charged with idio-elec-tricity
the slightest inflammable sub
stance may commence the combustion
The gas is said to be hydrogen and its
compounds, and this explains why water
often failsto extinguish fire, and also
why combustible substances contiguous
are so seldom injured, the heat required
for and produced by its combustion be
ing low. It is indeed singular that in
all the known cases c f spontaneous com
bustion the fire has not caught sur
rounding objects, but has ceased with
the victim of internal conflagration.
Fontenells, a celebrated writer on this
subject, affirms his belief that it is
owing to an internal decomposition and
the formation of new products which
are highly inflammable, such as phos
phurate hydrogen. A dissection by Dr.
Aally is corroborative of this opinion.
He attended a case of typhus, and after
death gas was found in large quantities
in the body. This gas, from whatever
part it was extricated hy puncture, took
fire on bringing a lighted candle to it,
and burned with a blue flame. The ex
istence of oil in the serum of the blood
of intemperate people is also supposed
to conduce to the combustibility of the
system. Most of the individuals hust
consumed had for a long time made an
immoderate use of spirituous liquors.
They were either very fat or very lean.
The combustion occurred accidentally,
and often from a slight cause, such as a
candle, a coal, or even a spark. It pro
ceeds in most cases with great rapidity,
usually consuming the entire trunk,
while the extremities, as the feet and
the hands were occasionally left unin
jured. Water, instead of extinguishing
the flames which proceed from the parts
on fire, sometimes gave them more ac
tivity. The combustion of the bodies
left as a residuum, fat, fetid ashes, with
an unctuous and very penetrating soot.
The combustions have occurred at all
seasons, the most frequently in winter,
and in northern as well as in southern
countries.
The most widely known case of spon
taneous combustion is that of the Count
ess Cornelia Bandi, of Cesena, Italy.
She was aged sixty-two and in good
health at the time of her singular and
unexpected death. She was in the habit
of bathing in camphorated spirits of
wine. One evening she felt drowsy,
and her maid remained with her until
she fell asleep in bed. The next morn
ing when the girl came to call her she
found nothing but the remains of her
body in a most horrible condition. At
the distance of four feet from the bed
was a heap of ashes, in which the arms
and legs were almost untouched. Be
tween the legs lay the head. The brain,
together with the posterior part of the
cranium and the whole chin had been
consume!. Three fingers were found
in a state of coal, and the body was re
duced to ashes, which, when touched;
left on the fingers a fat, fetid moisture.
A small lamp which stood on the floor
was covered with ashes, but contained
no oil. The tallow of two candles was
melted on a table, but the wick still re
mained, and the feet of the candlesticks
were covered with moisture. The bed
was not deranged. The bedclothes were
raised up and thrown on one side, as is
the case when a person gets up. The
furniture and tapestry were covered with
a moist kind of soot, the color of ashes,
which had even penetrated into closed
drawers and soiled the linen they con
tained. No noise occurred in the night,
and the combustion must have been
very rapid. The case occurred in 1763,
Bertholi. a priest, lived in Italy in
1776. He traveled about the country,
and one evening arrived at the house of
his brother-in-law. He desired to be
immediately shown to his room, and
when there requested that a handker
chief should be placed between his
shirt and shoulders. This was done.
and he was left to his devotions. A
few minutes had hardly elapsed when a
noise was heard in the room, and a loud
outcry was made by the priest. He was
found lying on the floor of his room and
surrounded by a light flame, which died
away as people approached and extin
guished itself. A celebrated doctor of
the time (Battagalia) was summoned,
and examined the priest. He found the
integuments of the right arm almost en
tirely detached from the flesh, and be
sween the shoulders and thighs the in
teguments were injured. There was a
mortification of the right hand which
rapidly extended itself. The priest was
devoured by a burning thirst, nras hor
ribly convulsed and was feverish and
delirious. On the fourth day after this
strange attack, after two hours of com-
atose insensibility, he expired. A short
time previous to his death the body ex
haled a most insufferable odor, worms
crawled from it on the bed and the nails
dropped from the fingers. The priest's
account of the matter was that he felt a
stroke like a blow from a cudgel on the
right hand,, and at the same time saw a
bluish flame attack his shirt, which was
immediately reduced entirely to ashes,
with the exception of the wristbands,
which were untouched. The handker
chief which was between the shirt and
shoulders was uninjured, and not a hair
of his head was burnt, although his cap
was totally consumed. There had been
no fire in the room except that of the
lamp, which had been full of oil, which
was now dry and the wick reduced to a
cinder. Cincinnati Enquirer.
FANCY NOTES FOR THE FAIR SEX.
The fashionable maid now perfumes
her gloves.
A bibbed apron is worn on flower and
fern hunting expeditions.
Tiles make more durable and less ex
pensive floors than marble, and beside
allow a greater variety of ornament.
Spinning wheels and fishing bones
were worn by the brides and brid3s-
maids at two recent English weddings.
The newest charm to hang on a ban
gle or watch chain is a tiny lantern.
An oak chimney piece decorated with
rich blue tiles is a charming combina
tion.
Baw silk underwear is recommended
for those tourists exposed to variations
of climate.
Water lilies are worn to the exclusion
of all other flowers by those fortunate
enough to be able to get them.
In playing lawn tennis the tie-back
apron is a thing of necessity to keep the
petticoats from blowing about.
A French Countess carries a long
cane thrust through a basket filled with
flowers and tied to the handle with
light ribbons.
The ladies at Atlantic City are noted
for their rapidity in dancing. Their
favorite is the hop-waltz, and they go
around the rooms as if their lives de
pended upon the time they made.
The most money-making women are
the teachers of dancing, and there is no
occupation for a lady which is more re
munerative and agreeable than teaching
the little folks to dance.
No man of observation and taste
wants to travel with a woman who wears
a linen duster, but who of them would
cavil at the picturesque Mother Hub
bard ponage, with its bright linings.
Says an authority in art : "Domestic
china is not fit for drawing-room decor
ation. Plates, cups and saucers are not
fit for walls, and neither possess beauty
of form nor breadth of color to compete
with pictures."
Grays are the choice of the aesthetics
for dresses or parasols; silver, tin,
smoke, steel or brooklet ripples give
evidence of judgment or keen appreci
ation of the new school. When trim
miners are tolerated, shell pink does
duty.
An observer says that when ladies bet
at the races, they are generally guided
by a pretty color, the graceful form of
the horse, a favorite name, or possibly
by the neat or picturesque appearance
of the jockey.
"A doll show " was a recent attraction
held at Melbourne, Australia. The dolls
were in bridal costumes, evening
dresses, ball dresses and many in babies'
robes. The doll's houses were numerous
many of them being elegantly furnished,
Some one has discovered that flowers
may be kept for a long time by putting
them into a glass air-tight jar. with
morsel of quicklime wrapped in oil
silk at the bottom. In this way they
may be indefinitely preserved, even if
the jar is opened from time to time,
A New York bachelor makes the per
tinent and rather novel suggestion that
a number of thrifty women might put
themselves in the way of fortune by
opening a shop for mending men'
clothes, darning stockings, sewing on
buttons, etc.
Common wooden buckets are the
latest fancy, painted and filled with
ferns for the dra winer-room. Some are
painted with flowers ; a flight of swal
lows in black and white flying over
landscape; a large monogram or me
dallion or a simulated ribbon passed
around with a few long-stalked flowers
put through the loops.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
James B. Simmons and wife, of Bloom-
ington, HI., recently celebrated the six
tieth anniversary of their wedding.
Governor Wilts, of Louisiana, is lil,
and it is feared that he will not again
be restored to health.
Miss Clara Louise Kellogg will re
ceive $2,000 a week during the coming
opera season. Patti wants $2,000 a
night.
It has come to light that a number of
robberies at Independence, Mo., were
committed by young men of excellent
connections. ...
Jefferson Davis and wife sailed from
New Orleans for Liverpool recently.
They are going after their daughter,
who is being educated abroad.
Sylvester Le Voice is a fair-haired,
blue-eyed, mild-mannered boy of eleven,
at Jamestown, N. Y., yet he deliberately
shot a baby because it annoyed him with
its crying.
Gen. B. F. Butler arrived at Halifax
in his yacht the America. If the Gen
eral doesn't pay more attention to busi
ness he won't be nominated again for
governor of Massachusetts.
Barney Dolan went on apic-nicup
the Hudson last Sunday, to have
good time, and came back mi-
mm 1
nus an eye. Borne people nave a
queer idea of " a good time."
Most of the members of the Indian
delegation in Washington disguised
themselves in " plug " hats and " biled "
shirts, soon after their arrival. The
"Great Father" foots the bill, of
course.
The number of one cent subscribers
for the relief of Charles Cook, who
knocked down a man out in Ohio re
cently for hoping the President would
die, was at last accounts 62,615, and the
amount of cash $626.15.
"You must admit, John Webster, that
you stole those pullets' said the Gal
veston judge to the culprit. "Jedge,"
responded John, "I don't Teally believe
I stole dem chickens. In de fust place,
jedg'e, nobody saw me take 'em. In de
next place, dey could not be found on
my premises, because I had done hid
dem chickens i.-nder de floor. I can t
help believin', jedge, dat Ps innocent
as a lamb."
The Great American Desert.
Twenty years ago this was the terror
of the overland emigrant. It was im
possible to go around it, for it extended
from the Colorado to the cascades. All
the routes that led to the land of prom
ise crossed it, and it was soon covered
with the bleaching bones of stock and
dotted with human graves. - It is about
forty miles from the lower end of the
Humboldt Sink to the Truckee river at
Wadsworth, and the name "Forty Mile
Desert " Riven the stretch has become
known the world over. There is no
water fit to drink on the whole distance.
The road lies through a sandy sage
brush plain, extending several miles
west of the lake, where it strikes an al
kali desert, in the center of which the
railroad has a station that it appropri
ately calls "White" Plains. This is
the lowest point east of the mountains.
Eight miles further is Mirage station,
which might serve as a memorial to the.
unfortunates who have been betrayed
from their proper course by the picture
of running water, waving trees and
fields that existed only in the deceptive
air. Near the middle of the journey is
a boiling hot spring at the foot of the
mountain and large beds of salt lie
near, from which B. F. Leete and the
Bonanza mines put up and shipped large
quantities to the market. The deposit
has killed all vegetation for a long dis
tance around, leaving the flat old lake
bed as bare as a floor. Between there
and Wadsworth there are-some very odd
formations. The body of the country
seems to be a light yellow substance,
probably diatomous, over which lie
high ridges of brown hills. The level
places are strewn with heavy rocks, of all
sizes, as black as coaL There is no
timber anywhere in sight and even the
sage brush is of inferior size. On either
side are the ever monotonous brown
mountains, carved and grooved by cen
turies of wear and frost into fringes of
stony lace. The railroad has made fre
quent attempts to get water for its en
gines but without success. They bored
1,300 feet at Hot Springs, but got only
a brackish mixture of liquid alkali.
They haul water in tank cars for their
section men between Lovelock's and
Wadsworth's and the engines make the
run with one tankful, a distance of
sixty-one miles. They formerly earned
an extra car behind the engine with two
wooden tanks to draw from, but new
engines have been built with tanks that
hold 3,700 gallons. They frequently
run seventy-five miles without stopping,
and Nick Cole made a 100-mile run
once. It is a very pleasant comparison
for the rich forty-niner, who rides in the
palace car over the ground where he
walked along with sore and tired: feet,
urging his thirsty oxen out of the desert
half a life-time ago. Reno (Nevada)
Gazette.