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North Carolina Newspapers

The Chatham record. (Pittsboro, N.C.) 1878-current, April 24, 1884, Image 1

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H. A. LONDON, Jr., EDITOR AMD morBIFrOR. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTIOM; One ery ono year, Mo Onoeoiy .sli montlm . ..... 1.00 nopy, (bi-M moutlu, . . ,M or ADVERTISING. On mute, one Snsartton. " OmaiDkN.twoluiorttoni). .... t.W ODtMloara.niio mouth, . - - . 2.W VOL. VI. PITTSBOllO', CHATHAM CO., N. C, APRIL 24, 1881. NO. 33. n iMgar 4TrtlMmeMIKieml coftrt -vrtlt- The Impassible, Men cimmit draw wnli': lYinn mi I'liiply well, Or Iiucp iliitnrii-n tli;ii gui-sip-i lill, Orjpilher tlw M'iiii-1:. iiI'ii iiNilin li II. Mini nei nan 1 tin- liitlmvs' rum'. Nit i ll. lin lliruiihU lill tiny Men no inuri1. Nit iliivo tnh' lnvi- from uiiiaiili lis doer. Atell 0 lill. 'I u'cilaki' 11 Ib'cmig lin, ( limi' ln ulir-a ion liell i'I'iji', Or call Ii.ii k year- III il Imvr luiirf gone li". Mull never can lirilii1 (iltl I VtluT Time, (.lill llii' lii;;lil I' u . k III it he cannot climb, Or tru-t f liti lutnd llml hath iU.nu it ciiiuv. Mini "iniiot n cruel word neiill, rcllcrn tlmiilit, lie it "lent orsinull, Or liiini'j- extract from it ilrni ulfrilt. Mini can never hiukwnrd turn tin1 tide, Or cninit ilic stiiro 1 1 n t mc (-cat'ercd wide. Or find in a fmil it trusty guide. Mnnoimmii rtutp ltiit Imm woilhtt! .ecd liclv I'rr slieiij.'lli on (lie broken rcij.l, Or fciiu il licnil lie li iili i ini-cil li'l'lfi'd. Mull never cm hope Iiii.- pc ico to win, I'kw-uif itli'iiit mil jy within, I.ivin;; ii thought if. lift! ul' win BEYOND HIS INCOME. 'Five pounds of grapes!" said old Mis. Mddmay, in astonishment. "Are you ijiiito sun that vim understood your luifitri's tinier, Hester? White grapes aiv sixty cents a pound, and surely lor so small a dinner-party as this 'There's nu mistake, nia'ain," said Jlc.-ler, fitly. S. rvants will soon learn the spirit of their superiors, and Hester knew that young Mrs. Mildmay as n it particularly par ia! to her hus band's stepmother. "1 tool; the order myself, and it ain't liktly that I should be mistook." "Hester is .piiie right," said Mrs Kufus MiKmay, vv ho came in at that tnoiuent.a handsome lrune!te. in a pink cashmere morning-dress, trimmed with hands, a In niiUhiiri, of Maek Velvet rather a e.ndrr.sl to the neat, calico gown which In r iiiother-in law was ac customed to wear ahottt her morning avocations at home. "And 1 do w ish, mamni.i, you wouldn't interfere!" The old lady's serene hrow Hushed. "My dear,' she remonstrated, "I tlo not w ish 1. 1 meddle with your concerns; hut I really fear tint Kufus' income " "Kufus' income is his own, to spend rs he pleases," interrupted the voting lady. "Anil you seem to forget, mamma that pt -ople don't live nowadays as they did when you were a girl." Mrs. Mil lin iy said nothiiicr more. It was not t he fust time, nor yet the second, that she had been riven to un derstand, hy Mrs. Kufus, that her in tcrpositi"!! in household affairs was un welcome. The stepson, whom she loved with as fond a devotion as if he had heen her own i hil l, hud married a beautiful city girl, and settled in New York. so far. all was well, although Mrs. Mildmay had secretly hoped that he would love sweet Alice Acton, the clergyman's daughter at l'ole Hill, and settle down on the old farm, as his father lieiure him ha I done. Vet if Kufus was happy! Ves, there was the question. And sometimes Mrs. Mildmay feared that ho was not, in spite of his smiles and his assumed cheerfulness. It had heen his fondest hope that his mother might he one of his household after his marriage. Mrs. Mildmay had hrped so, too; hut after this, her lirst visit, she felt th.it the dream was ill vain. "il and water will not mix,"' she said to herself, with a sigh. "And I bebng to a past generation." As she left the store-closet, where Kosamond and her cook were holding counsel as to a proposed dinner-party, she went slowly and spiritlessly up to the. break fast-room, where Kufus was reading the morning paper before the tire. "Kufus," she said, a littlo abruptly, "I think I had better go back to the Hemlocks this week." "Mother," he remonstrated. "1 don't think that Kosamond wants nie here." Uufus Mildmay reddened. "I hope, mother," he said, "she has not said anything to" "It is not natural that she should need my presence," said the old lady, gently. "I might have known it; now I am certain of it. Home is the best place for me. Hut remember one thing, dear Kufus. Do not outspend your in come. Kosamond is young and thoughtless. You yourself are inex perienced" "Oh, it's all right, mother," said the young man, carelessly. "But I did lre that you could be happy here!" Mrs. Mildmay shook her head. "I shall see you sometimes," said she. "If ever you are in trouble, Kufus you or Kosamond, either you will know where to come." So the oM lady went away from the pretty bijtm of a house in Farubule l'la:e, witluts bay windows, its Turco mail portitrm and the boxes of flowers in alMte casements. Br?auiond,"8aid theyoung husband, as ha studied over tho list of weekly bills a short time subsequently, "I be lieve my mother was right. AVo are outrunning our income." "Pshaw!" said Kosamond, who was sewing a frill of point lace on to tho neck of a rose-colored satin reception dress; "what has put that ridiculous idea into your head, Kufus V" "Facts and ligures," answered Kufus "dust look here, Kosie." "15ut I don't want to look!" said Kosamond, impatiently turning her head away, "and 1 won't so there! ( if course one can't live without money, especially if one giws into society." Kufus whistled under his breath. "Hut, Kosamond," said he, "if a man's incoinu is a hundred dollars a month and he spends two hundred, how are the accounts to balance- at the year's end ?" "1 don't know anything about bal ances and accounts," said Kosamond, with a sweet, sportive laugh. "How do you like this dress, Kufus?" holding up the gleaming folds of the pink satin. "I shall wear it on Thursday evening." "I'o you think, Kosie," said tho young man, gently, "that it is wise for us to go so much into society on our sh'nder income?" "That arrow came from your mother's quiver, Kufus!" said Kosamond. with another laugh. "She was always preaching about your 'income.' " "And, after all," said Kufus, "what do we care for the fashionable people t whose houses we go, and who:n we invite to our patties? Thev wouldn't j one of them regret if we were to go to the Kocky Mountains tomorrow." i "I would as soon die at once as live without society!" said Kosamond. "lo ! leave off lecturing me, Kufus! Society is all that makes life worth h.ixing foi' i me." i And, with a deep sigh, Kufus held ! his peace. That was a lon.r, hinely w inter for : Mr.. Mildmav, senior, at The Hemlocks. i j Snow set in early; the river froze over, as it it were sheeted with iron, J except in the oiip dismal place down in I the ravine, w here a re:.tli ss pool of ink ; black water boiled and bubbled, at the fool ot a perpendicular ma.-s ol gray : rock, under the shadow of gloomy cver ; greens; the Mtnshiu" glittered with ! fro en brightness over the hills, and the old lady was often secretly sad at j heart as she sat all a'one in the crimson parlor, by the big lire-place, when the i logs blaze I in the twiiight. j And as the New Year passed, and 1 the litter cold of .1 an nary took pt.sses I sioii of the froen world, a vague np ; prehension crept into her heart. I "Something is going to happen," she said. "1 am not superstitious, but ; there are times when the shadow of Joining events i.tretciies unruly across the heart. Something is going to happen!" And one afternoon, as the amber sun. set blaed I ehind the i call ess trees, turning the snowy fields to masses of molten pearl, she put on her fur-lined hood and cloak. "I will go and take a walk," said she. "I shall certainly become a hypochondriac if I sit all the time by the lire and nurse my morbid fancies like this." She took a long brisk walk, down by the ruins of the old mill, through the cedar woods, across the froen swamp, and then she paused. "I will come back by the Klack Pool,' she thought. "It is a wild and pictu resquespot in winter, with icicles hang ing to the tree-boughs, anil weird ice- t'ffects over the face of tho old gray rock." It was a dark and gloomy place, funereally shadowed by the hemlocks, w hich grew there to a giant size; and when Mrs. Mildmay got beneath their boughs, she started back. Was it the illusive glimmer of the datkeningtwiligh? or was it really a man who stood close to the edge of the Klack PoVl? J "Kufus! Oh, Kufus, mv son!" ! she w.-ts barely in time to catch him I in her arms and drag him back from the awful death to which he was hurl- j ing himself. j When they reached the cedar wain- j scoted parlor, where the blazing logs ; cast a r tidily reflection on the red i moreen curtains, Mrs. Mildmay looked I into Iter stepson's face with loving eyes, i "And now, Kufus," said she, "tell i me all about it. The Lord has been J very good to you for saving you from i a terrible crime." j "Mother, why did you stop me?" he ! said, recklessly. "I am a ruined man! ! I shall be dishonored in the sight of the j world! Death would be preferable, a j thousands times, to dissrrace. I Kufus," said the old lady, tenderly, "do you remember when you used t -get into boyish scrapes at school? Do you remember how you used to confide your troubles to nie? Let us forget all the years that have passed. Let us be child and mother once again." So he told her all -of the reckless ex penditure on Kosamond's part hisown, nlsn tin fun femi.l wliii'li 1i:iil wm ell , . . , ... r , ttsell like a fatal web about his feel of tho unpaid bills, tho clamoring tradesfolk, tho threats of public expo- sure, which had driven him at last to the forgery of his employer's signature, in order to free himself from one oi two of the most pressing of these do mands. "And if my investment in F.rie bonds had proved a success," he said, eagerly, "I could have taken up every one of the notes before they came due, Hut there was a change in the market, and now now the bills will be presented next week, and my villainy will be patent to all the world! Hi, mother, mother! why did you not let mo lling myself into tho Klack Pool?" "Kufus," said his stepmother, "what is the amount of the.;e - these forged bills?" "Ten thousand dollars," he answered staring gloomily into the lire. "Exactly the amount of the (iovern iiient bonds which your father left nie," said Mrs. Mildmay. "They would have been yours at my death. They are yours now, Kufus." "Mother, you don't mean" "Take them," said Mrs. Mildmay, tenderly pressing her lips to his fore head, "(to to New York the lirst thing to-morrow morning and wipe this stain from your life as you would wipe a few blurred ligures from a slate. And then begin the record of existence, anew." And up in tic little room which he had occupied as a child, Kufus Mild may slept the lirst peaceful slumbers which had descended upon his wt ary eyelids tor many and many a night. In the midnight (rain from New York came Kosamond Mildmay to The Hemlocks, with a pale, terrified face and haggard eyes. "( ill, mother, mother!" she sobbed; "where is he- my husband? He has left me, and the letter on the dressing table declared that he would never re turn alive! Oh, mother, it is my fault! I liaM- ruined him! Help me, comfort me, tell 1 1 it- what I shall do!" Mrs. Mildmay took her daughter-in-law's hand, and led her softly to the little room where her hudiand lay sweetly sleeping. "Hush!" said the old lady: "do not wake him. He is worn out, both in mind and body. Only be thaiikfuj that (lod has given him hai.k to you, almost from the grave." And as the two women sat togtther by the blazing logs in the crimson par lor, Mrs. Mildmay told Kos.iuioiid the whole storv of the meeting at the Klack Pool. "Mother,'' said Kosam ml, with a J quivering lip, "it is my doing. You ! warned n.e of this long ago. Oh, why did I give no heed to your words? Il deserve it all!' You will do lnrtttT for tl.i- luture. my dear," said the old lady, kindly. "Only be brave and steadfast." So the young people went back to New York and commenced the world anew.withdrawing from the maelstrom of 'society," and living within them selves. Mrs. Mildmay, senior, came with them, and Kosamond is learning the art of houstkei ping under her di rection. "Mamma is an angel!" says the young wife, enthusiastically. "And if 1 could only be just like hei, I should have no higher ambition. The Spirit of Discontent. The other day we stood by a cooper who was playing a merry tune with his adze round a cask. "Ah!" said he, "mine is a hard lot driving a hoop." "Heigho!" sighed the blacksmith on a hot summer day, as ho wiped the perspiration from his brow, while the red iron glowed on the anvil; "this is life with a vengeance, melting and fry. ing one's self over a hot lire." "O! that I was a carpenter,"' ejacu lated the shoemaker, as he bent over his lait-stonc. "Here 1 am, tlav afte day, wearing iny soul away, making soles for others cooped up in this littlo seven-by-nine room. Ili-ho-huin!" "I'm sick of this out-door work!" ex" claimed the bricklayer "broiling under the sw eltering sun or exposed to the inclemency of the weather. "1 wish I was a tailor." "This is too bad," petulantly cried the tailor "to be compelled to si1 perched up here plying the needle all the time. Would that initio were a more active life." "Last tlay of grat e banks won't dis countcustomers won't pay what shall I do?" grumbles the merchant. j "I had rathe" be a truck, a dog, or any. thing else." "Happy fellows?" groans the law yer, as he scratches his head over some dry, musty records "happy fellows! I had rather hammer stones all day than puzle my head on these tedious, vexa tious quest ions." I'EAULS OP TIIOHJHT. One of the sublimes! things in the world is plain truth, 1 1,,,Jini borders upon our birth, and . ''"' ' tamls in the giavi AVhoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue keepelh hi - m. nil from trouble We never injurs mir own characters so lunch a.i whiM we, attack those of others. Satire often proceeds le;s from ill- nature than from the desire of dis- playing wit. All tho whetting in the world can never set a razor edge on that which hath no steel in It. Avoid ciri'timl.'C ttUm in language. Words, like cmni balls, should go straight to their mark. To look forward profitably we must look back. Experience of the past is the best light for the future. Prosperity tries the human heart with the deepest probe, and draws foith the hidden character. A lions;' kept to the end of display is impossible t i all 'utt a few women, and their success is dearly bought. Everywhere an I always a man's worth must be gauged to some extent, though only in part, hy his domesticity. The man that w orks at homo helps wieiely at large with somewhat more certainty than lr who devotes himself to charities. When a mi.-d'nrtuno happens to a friend, look forward and endeavor to prevent the saint thing from happen ing to yoiir-elf. I.aziiie.-s grow on i ople; it begins in cobwebs and ends in iron chains. The more business a man has to do the more he is able to accomplish, for he learns to economise his strength. Ileal merit of any kind cannot be concealed; it will be discovered and i nothing can depreciate it but a man's showing il himself. It may not al ways be rewarded as it ought; but it will alwavs be known. A Vile f'oiiipirary. lehiel.I.'isp'.'r-t rolled into the grocery store of on.- f our back country vil lages, i-Niinr-lay. and after shunting around with his back to the fire until he was pel mrutcd w ith caloric, s lid: "Well, I guess I'll read the news and get a'otig toward home. Squire Per kinses' papers come yet?" and he step ped behind the post-oilices boxes, as was his custom, to take it out and read it. "Can't let you see it, .Tehiel," said the postmaster, "government has is sued orders that any postmaster who allows a non-subscriber to read a sub scriber's paper w ill lose his position." "No! You don't tell me? Well, if that ain't a groat iuee? It's a put-up job a conspiracy between these news- ! ami the g-s 'incut to keep the multitude in ignorance, so that they can domineer it over the community. And they talk about this 'ere bein a free country. It's driftin' right into ( despotism jest as fast as it can. How's I a man to know what's goin' on if he i don't rea I, and now the gov'inent's set tin' down on all ideas of eddication, an takiu' away that privilege." "Oil, not so ha I a that, dchiel," said the postmaster. "The government doesn't say anything against your sub scribing for the paper yourself, you know." "Subseribin' for it! What d'ye take me for ? D'ye suppose that I'm goin' to subscribe for a paper that I've read j for fourteen years right hero by tho stove without costing me a cent? No, ' sir. I ain't agoin' to help 'em to op press me iiy Keepin nie in ignorance. Xo, sir-ee." And having got a supply of cheap plug tobacco "put on the slate," he mugged home a thoroughly oppressed citizen. I'ntio the Strings. Said one of the most successful mer chants of Cleveland, ()., to a lad who was opening a parcel: "Young man, untie the strings; do not cut them." It was the lirst remark that he had made to a new employe. It was th first lesson the lad had to learn, and it ! involved the principles of success or failure iu his business career. Point ' ing to a w ell-dressed man behind th ; counter, he said: j "There is a man who always whips ; put his scissors and cuts the strings ol . the packages in three or four places. He is a good salesman, but he wilj never be anything more. 1 presume he lives from hand to mouth, and is more or less in debt. The trouble with him is that he wits nev' r taught to save. i toiu Hie uoy just now to untie the strings, not so much for the value ol the string as to teach him that i everything is to bo saved and nothing J wasted. If the idea can be firmly im. pres-ed upon the mind of a beginner in life that nothing was made to be wasted, you have laid the foundation I of success." HOUSEHOLD SUPERSTITIONS. Soma of the ucrr I niiclm IClKrrl.lilril hy lioutt I'toplft A favorite superstition, in many parts of this country, says the W. Loiiii UMw-lh mni rnt, is the one concerning new houiies; that it is unlucky to build a new house, since the coilin of the builder will be the liM one carried out at the door. Hence, in many parts of the Southern slates additions will be ; luade to the old house as long as prae. ' lit able rather than resort to building an entirely new structure. The super ' stition, perhaps.nrusc from the fact that so many retired merchants erect lino houses only to die in them as soon as they are finished. This is often the case, but no supernatural reason is needed to account fur tho occurrence. The merchant has up to that time been engaged in active pursuits, has never been idle in his life, and as long as his new house is building he has occupa tion, even though he may have retired from business. Kill w hen the house is done he has nothing to do and noth ing to think of but his ailments and infirmities, consequently thinks of them a great ileal, soon loses his cour age and dies. Spilling the salt on the table is a par ticularly bad omen, and, contrary to most of these superstitions, has a deii nite reason for its own existence. Salt is the emblem of hospitality, of friend ship, of good-fellowship, and w hen salt is spilled on the table the friendship is supposed to be in danger of being broken. Liko other superstitious fancies asiiilieieiit number of instances of the verification uf the ill-omen have been found and recorded to inspire popular relief in the reliability uf the sign, and it is therefore respected even more than most others of its kind. So far iis number is concerned, the most numerous class of superstitions are composed uf tho.-t; which cluster round the family candles. The origin of these probably dates far back in antiquity, when the world was full of superstitious fancies about light in general and caudle light in particu tilar. When we come down to the (any days of the Christian church however, we liud that not a lew of the ordinances of religion wcr; neeum patiied by ceremonies, in which lighted candles played an important part. Candles tvero lighted at birth to keep off evil spirits, at marriage to prevent the evil eye from alfecting th-happy pair, a id at death to drive away the demons who were thought to be always on the lookout for the soul of the dy ing man. Naturally then, as candles played so important a purl in the cere monies uf religion, 1 1 to ii became accus tomed to regard them with something of a superstitious eye, and to look to them for signs ami wonders which were not to be elsewhere found, so a peculiar appearance in the caudle, for which no reason foul 1 be given, was always regarded as indicative of some remarkable event about to happen. A collection of tallow round the wick, is still known as a winding-sheet, and is believed to foretell tho death of one of the family, while a bright spark is a sign of the future reception of a letter by the person opposite whom the spark is situated, and the wavingof the flame without any apparent cause is supposed to demonstrate the presence of a spirit in the room. In addition to these fanci ful notions there are some others which are founded on natural facts too well known to admit of dispute, such as the candle to light readily, which indicates a state of atmosphere favorable to a coming storm. In Ireland, where household super stitions, and indeed superstitions of almost every other kind, grow as if by magic, the house leek is a lucky plant, which, if planted in the thatch, will preserve tho inmates from all dangers brought about by unfriendly fairies, while the four-leaved clover is considered certain to give its possessor success in love, and is consequently much sought after on this account. The Esquimaux. lr a lecture niton the Esquimaux de- li vt red iu London, Dr. Kae expressed the opinion that this people wits originally an Asiaticrace.wdiocrossed from Siberia by Kehring's straits. From Labrador to Alaska they speak but one language with slight dialectical variations. They are physically strong, have great affection for their children, and are in. telligent and faithful. The tallest male measured by Dr. Simpson, near Kehring's straits, was live feet ten and one-half inches, and the shortest was five feet one inch; the heaviest wcigh- eu i:. pounds, an t mo ngntesi l.i pounds. An Esquimaux often eats as much as eight pounds of seal or twt he pounds of fish at a meal. The clothing of the people is made almost entirely of reindeer skins, and their dwellings, usually snug and comfortable, consist of stone and mud kraals, wooden huts aud snow houses, according to locality. THE FEAST OF Ill'SSEIX. Ilorrllile Prune, nt a .Vlolinntmrilan Uf IIuIoiik Ct i rniiuiy. A Constantinople letter to he San Francisco ( 'hroHi l- describes in graph ic language the horrible scenes wit nessed by the writer at a religious cer emony. Says the correspondent; "There was the sharp stroke of a bell .and tho whole band fell on their knees, and bending touched their foreheads three times to the ground. The crowd also bowed their heads. Then the priests in front, rising, commenced a low, mo notonous chant, accompanied lyanod. ding motion of the head. Ono after another the follow ing Ides took up the strain and the mot ion, and the whole body began slowly to advance, keeping perfect time to the music of the chanting. The chant had studs to a harsh, guttural whisper, and the crowd, which had been gathering al most 'as much excitement as the aco lytes, now began to lake a hand in the proceedings. Everywhere in the great court heads and bodies were swaying and bending, and fresh voices were intoning the chant, "al-Iah! al-lah!"' throwing the emphasis strongly on the second syllable of the word. As tho priest commence I the story of Hussein's prophecy and death the pro cession suddenly opened its ranks.lcav ing spaces of several feet between tho tiles. At the same time all the young er priests rolled up the sleeves of their tunics above the elbow on their right arm. The chant changed to "allah, all. ill, (iod and the prophet!" and tho rate of speed was quickened. The crowd pressel heavier and closer against the mpes. The faces of the devotees contorted -almost convulsed. There was it shout from the priest, fol lowed by sudden .silence, during which time every man raised his sword above his head. Another shout, and with the resumption of the chant and a perfect roar from thei rovvd.the swords came dow n, every man striking him self wir.Ii the sharp edge a-toss the head or forehead, making wounds from which the blood iluwcd freely. The swords were immediately raised and again came dow n a before. At lirst everything was methodical, and the cutting was done togd her. Hut. as the : byte-- caught the era'. ine-s of the spectators, all discipline ceased.and each iran slashed and cut himself as he saw lit. In many cases the wounds crossed and re-crossed each other till the w hole head, was a mere lacework of cuts. It was a horrible and sickening sight. At one point at the first blow struck by one of the derv ishes the blood spinted from the wound and struck line of the soldiers at the ropes direct ly in the face. lie fell as if he had been hit by a bullet. The shock sick -filed him and he had fainted. Such an exhibition could not last long. The limit to human endurance ev en w hero strengthened by religious fanaticism is very narrow. Picture the procession ha I gone the length of the square many of till! devotees Were leeliug and stag -gering like drunken men. Their faces were gh astly pale, and their long white cloaks were si n aked and stained wit h blond. Then a man stumbled and fell forwaid and was carried away by the attendants. The strokes of the swords grew feebler and the chanting sunk to a husky w hisp. slower and slower they went, and new men were reeling and dropping at every step. The head of the column reached the steps and turning up them disappeared within the building. Kut of the actu al devotees not half had the strength to go by themselves. The crowd be. gan to disperse before the last v ictim had been carried away. The servants commenced to extinguish the lights on the altar, the great court gradually emptied itself of people, and the feast, of Hussein was over. Straw lor I'tiel. "Yts, I've lived out West ten years,'' said a traveler, who was bearded like a forty-niner, "I mean on the perairies of Xevvbraska. (Jreat country, too." "What did the folks do for fuel?" "Well, nowadays we're following af ter the Honshu ns, the Kooshun Men- nonites, you know, in the fuel busi- i ness. They are right smart and in- J getiious in some things, and this is the j way they gel over .the fuel ditliciilty: 'They build their houses of four j rooms, all cornering together in the center. Kight there they put up a great brick oven, with thick walls. From the furnace door back to th0 backyard is a passageway. Every morning, noon and night they lug a jag of straw in from the stack and burn it in the furnace. The thick brick walls get red hot. and stay so for hours, warming every room in the house. Even in the coldest weather three lires a day in the furnace w ill keep the house warm. For the conk ing stoves we burn cornstalks to get meals with, and thus our farms raise our fuel as we go along. Pretty good scheme, ain't it?" Sunken (iobl. In d in Rrcnn dcpllis rut iiignt-liit''ii slii'. W hilo gold ilniililooiM that lieiu tilt; drowned luinil jell Lie ncilli'il in llio ncwin fl'iiverV lu ll Willi l.i.vc'- j-cniiiicil ring, unci' ki -cil hy now ili-a.l lips. Ami round .-unit, w roiilit-' dd cup tlifi ecu. niss iiliif. And hides ,,. .i-iii , near pciinVa ill in their sli.'ll. When' sea-wced l.nt -ts lill ein li v enn dell, And sfi'k dim tiniliylil, wilh t' fit cuuiitlosH tips. Sn lie the tvaslcl frills, tin' Imcj-lo-t liui'iis, IteiK'iitli I lit- now liiislu-d siu lai e of myself, In lonelier deptlis tliiui wlicir tlio diver fjrupes. They lie deep, deep; lull I lit times lichold. Iu doubtful glimpse-, on mhiip reefy shell', Tho fjlenin of irrccuveiiililc gnld. - l.cc Hamilton. IIF.MOKOrs. Koliing stuck--Cattle trains pitched down an embankment. "I fear no man!" he said. And about that time his wife came along and led him off by the ear. When you see a counterfeit coin on the sidewalk, pick it up. You are liable to arrest if yon try to pass it. "Mother, limy I go out to pep?" 'Ves. in y darling ilanlilcr; II ion 1'nil this y em yuil must .-ilml upl-liop. You've kepi luit-er tliuti you oil or." An exchange speaks of "the leading oand of tho country." It is a brass band, and it may be first-class; but tho hiit-band is generally at the head. "Yes," said the boy, ! might just as well be at the head of my class as not. I!ut 1 don't mind being at the foot, and the other boys do, so I sacrilice myself." "Your father is entirely bald now, isn't he ?" said a man to a son of a mil lionaire. "Yes." replied the youth, sadly, "I'm the only hfir In- has left." Mrs. Home-pun, who has a terrible t iuie ev cry limming to get her young brood out of their beds, says she cannot understand why children are called tho rising generation. There is luck in being the first baby. In England, if of the male sex-, it be comes the heir apparent, while in freo America it usually escapes more spank ings than the second one. "There is a single sentence in tho Knglish foieign enlistment act which contains tjm.t words. A longer sentence was that of a New York judge the other day. It contained twenty years. "Is your wife acquainted with tho dead languages?" asked the professor of a New man man. "Maybe she is," was the reply, "but th language she uses is entirely too warm to have been dead very long." ' Ho you paint yet ':" asked an old friend of a feminine artist whom she had not seen before for many years. "Yes," was the answer. "I still paint. I paint the children red and I put it on with my sl'pper." When a small boy appears in new clothes he is afraid to meet his com panions for fear of being ridiculed. Put when a girl steps out in new gar ments she makes it a point to go where her acquaintances may see and envy her. A young lady recently received a .ote from ,i young man of her acquain tance, st dicit ing her company to church, and as he had never offered to take her anywhere else she accepted his kind offer and closed the note with the solemn declaration that "salvation is free." First Stent of the Caspian Sen. (no of the most singular mental ef fects 1 noticed on mysilf was that pro duced whenever 1 walked on the quay, and saw the large fleet rucking in the port. Shelley's Alastor had from early youth haunted my memory, and given nie the impression that the Caspian was a weird, half-ideal sea, with shores ten anted by the ghosts of dead empires! with a coast w hich was a reedy morass trodden only by the bittern and crane; with waters gray with the haze of per petual twilight, a vast, mysterious sol itude. Such in part it is on the eastern shore, but at llaku the Caspian conveys no such idea. Square-rigged ships ride at anchor by scores; tho port is busy with wherries and sail-boats dart ing hither and thither, and sharp, heavily-sparred steamers of live hun dred to one thousand tons are constant ly entering and leaving the docks. The only peculiarity that distinguishes these ships from those of other seas is the rig, which curried me back to my boyhood. Two-top-sail schooners with very raki-h masts abunnded.thoroughly piratical, and altogether liko vessels common elsewhere thirty-fiveyears ago, but not longer in use except on the Caspian. llrigantines, with a small topsail, and other obsoleto rigs were to be seen on this sea which has fash ions of its own; which has no relations with any other sea; which is neither fresh nor salt, and also enjoys the freak of lying over one hundred feet below the level of tho ocean. Jlan-Umttnn.

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