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r W" wr' fiL.jc ri'L.".:. ! I "-C VI I II i t i r7 a . -a ? . . A famELT PAPEKOEYOTED TO POLITICS, AGRICULTUKE, M IVUFACTUKES, COMMERCE, AKD MISCELLANEOUS EE ADINO, tfiffe AGRICULTURE, M JLVUFACTUBEJ ; N. G; SAiyRDAT; I . - STATES VILLE 1VIAKCH 9, 1878. NO. 3. The Mystery. . ; Dr. WJnter, sitting at the breakfast table was drvine the mornine paper still damp, and exhaling the odor of the press before the fire, w&ile his eye ' rested now and then on a number of letters brought in by the postman. . - - The Doctor was a middle-aged bache lor, well-to-do in the world, and having . a comfortable practice. Life had gone on smoothly " enough for him, with vircelr il break worth recording, lie had no mournful memories of the past his youth, he had spent in getting rich &nrl . now he was satisfied with his worldly accumulations, but in no baste to secure ajkl to dissipate them. ' Rnf tho Hpn1 level of life tret straneely stirred up now and then; and as Dri. Winter uufoldea tne paper nis eye ie , on a paragraph headed, . .. .. ; 'Scxai Dath. Our readers will regret to learn of the sudden demise of the talented young artist, Edgar Percy. He was found dead in his apartment lasc eTeiung. mu uucus iuuui mmn pMn fti-tion of the heart. We are as yet unable to give further partic- , ."Edgar ' Percy dead ! Why, It was only yesterday after noon that I "met him in perfect health 1" r " He took up hU hat and gloves with the intention of visiting Percy's lodg ing, and was carelessly putting the let ters away, when he suddenly exclaimed, "Percy's hand 1 ; Sealed with black, tool 1 wonder -I did not notice it be fore.' Can it be possible that he writes to tell me of his own death?" Dr. Winter sat down again, and opened tho sombre missive. It was dated the evening before, and sure enough Edgar Percy's name was signed to it. Dr. Winter read: - "Mi Dxa Fbiekd : It Is now time for us to depart for me to die, for you to live, and which of us meets the best late God only knows. Do you remein- ber those words of Socrates, Doctor ? While you are reading this I shall be cold enough, and quiet enough, too. Tho veil will have been rent apart, and - the darkened glass withdrawn. You will hear of my death. You will stand over me and wonder that one so young should recoil down so suddenly. The world will raise uplifted hands of as tonishment, and then rush on and for get us ere a single morn has waxed and waned, And yet it is the fear of this same cold, ;indUTerent woild that com 'pels one to rush unbidden trom its haunU. To you the- secret is revealed. - Remember, it is the secret of the dead; ' oetray It not. "I have taken a subtle and deadly poison;, so subtle that it leaves b6 trace to betray its presence --so deadly that in one half-hour I shall be a corpse one half-hour I Then the ! unveiling of eternity I To you, I repeat, 1 bequeath this secret. To you I be queath the task of finding out why I took my life in my own hands, and "went out of -the world -dreading, its power i: I might tell you. :They. say the deeds of all men shall one day be known. Ah, my God 1 I had rather thrown myself at thy mercy, who know'at my sins already, than live to ' be at the aaerey of man t My lips shall never 41 ve to frame the confession my ' pen never write it. My death alone, -ends all.: With me the secret dies.-' II I lived it must become known- You . dare not betray the trust of a dead man. Come and look at me after you have read this FarewelVl , Edgar "Percy." Dr. Winter's astonishment was too -' vast to find immediate utterance. He ' ' put the letter carefully in his pocket , and. went forth to obey the dead man's summons, to ''Come and . look at me after you have read this." . Aye, r that ... he would. Standing over- the dead in the dark ened parlor, the doctor learned all that the world was to know of Edgar Percy's fliting-i The servant had . taken him in some warm water the evening before, and he had given her letter to post. Geingto bis room two hours later to r close the shutters, she found him lyingj on the sofa, quiet enough, as he himself had said. The room - was in its usual order. He had evidently dropped off without a struggle, r She did not know to whom the letter was addressed, as she could not read writing, but noticed that, the seal was' black- Mr. Edgar used that kind of envelope always. - That was all she had to say, and the -doctor told her that she might go and 1 leave him with the dead. - - -H v Very pathetic was that dead face. A mournful beauty veiled the chiseled .'features; a sad. smile wreathed the ex quisite mouth. The profile, turned slightly aside, gave the head a listening look. Marvellous enough, doubtless, were the sounds now ringing in those earsl What was the mystery upon which those lips bad closed forever f W&at t-t coming disaster upon which these eyes so feared to look that -they must needs put on the veil of death f No answer no stirring of those lips no lifting of those heavy lids with death for coin-weights! 1A tear fell upon the marble brow of the dead ; the doctor's hand fell caress ingly upon the damp locks.T - ; , 3 tiPoot oy VI he muraiured;-?,il But there came a time when the .sad beauty f that face was hid' away" to await-the' awful change already; com menced -, when the soiUo seemed like a sneer wherewith thedead niock their own decay, and Edgar Percy was for gotten by all save one He had no clue as yet. Percy : had been" for two years a resident of the place, nad Jeen successful as an ariist, af as knenTha't ne enne' from the 11 country, that was all. ;.Who were his I friends -no one could tell. It seemed he had none save those he had made in ltown. He was not in debt. He left Pi i a i r i . ueuinu mm enougn to pay tne expenses of his funeral. Among his effects, or derly and common-place, there was not a sign of mystery, nor a scrap of writ ing, not even an unfinished sketch' to point a clue.-: One thing the Doctor felt sure of. Edgar Percy,? mentally , or physically, was the personation of his own mystery. -i His death destroyed its power, put an end to its threatenings, swallowed it up in internal oblivion. It might be' guilt it might be misfortune -rit might .be fate. Whatever it was, it concerned the dead man alone. It lay between him and the world. God might pardon and overlook it if it were sin;' but the world, he knew never woukL . But was it sia? The world, we know, forgives that easily enough when it is sanctified by success, and beyond the reach of the law.. ' If it was something that the world could not forgive, what could it have been r It must not, however be supposed that Dr. Winter thought of nothing else than Edgar Percy's suicide. .Very seldom is man faithful to a memory ; and having his hands upon the good things of this life, Winter believed fn enjoying them, and after puzzling ' his brain on a hundred possible solution to the riddle, he gave it up; so that when Edsrar Percy had been dead for a year, the thing was precisely where it was when first he read the suicide's letter. Another year dimmed the memory of the tragedy ; the third effaced itentirelv from his mind, to return only by fits and starts- . It was during the close of the third year that Dr. Winter made the aquaia tance of a young surgeon belonging to one of the principal hospitals. Young William Dunning took a great fancy for the middle-aged, jolly practitioner, a penchant reciprocated by the Doctor ; and when off duty the two were always together. One day Dr. ; Winter accompanied Dunning to the hospital, and went the rounds with him..' There were many sad ' sights there, moans ' of pain, and thin, pallid faces on which Death's sig net was plainly stamped. Dunning stopped at one of the pal lets, on which was stretched the slender form of a man yet in his early youth, whose pale, regular features and dusky eyes sent a thrill or remembrance through Dr. Winter's soul. Where had he seen that face? Who is he?" was the question that rose to his lips. ' ' ' It is hard to tell who he is," replied Dunning. "He was found wandering in the street, wild with delirium. He had been robbed, it seemed, and turned out of a sick bed by some treacherous fiend, doubtless hoping that he would perish In the street. Poor creature! His hour is near at hand ! 'Zt?. Is he conscious?" He 'has not Deen, hitherto; but I think he will recover his reason before he dies. Ah ! there is sanity in his eyes even now. Speak to him, Doctor." ; "My good man," said Winter, "do you see me?" . ; .: : .- ' "Dr. Winter!" uttered the feeble voice,'"'"'1 - -''':" ' v "You know me I" he cried, with as tonishment.' "Who are you?" ; A feeble smile curled his thin lips. i "If you will sit. beside me,' 1 have a long story to tell you. Yet, no, it shall not be long." The sick man stretched' his hand for a cordial. It was given him, and again the dusky eyes were turned upon Win ter's face, and the low voice began : "Five years ago, I met you first. For two years you were my friend. I died, bequeathing you a strange task. For three years I was dead to you and all the world." : - . ; . You then, are Edgar Percy ?" -'What Is left of him." - - -' ' You 'were not dead then? ' In what manner were ' you rescued from the grave?" :,-.:r-; "No, I was hot dead," he said. "Dy ing has been my profession.: 1 have lived upon the proceeds of my deaths at various times; but I am not dead' yet!" '-' ,-r..e iz - : To say that Dr. " Winter was aston ished would but feebly express the state of the good man's mind, while Dunning watched the two with distended eyes. But what," demanded the doctor, WILLI U1U1UU1LJT lUXUUj HllllOCia W OjreaA, "was the disgrace to which you alluded in that letter?''' "A blind, my friend ; a blind merely toi throw you off the track. You say" to Dunning "that I am going to die?" , "You certainly are beyond all skill." 'Well, well, what matters it? I have been a great rascal and no one has ever suspected it. 'Twill be a sori of relief l-t. -1 ! 1 f 1 htmaalftA onnnl- to speak the truth for once in my life, Listen, both of you : ."The processes of converting a warm young heart to villainy and dishonesty are various. It matters not how l be came, the hypocrite I always was'; I think it was .born in me; that it was my nature to deceive, and mismanage ment strengthened the natural propen sity : Well, doctor, I am going to make the story short, to give the frame-works as it : were, which you ' can fill out at your leisure; ; for already I .feel the death-clutch at my vitals- Three sepa rate times have I, with the aid of an accomplice, feigned death, successfully. EacIV time my life' was insured, to a large amount ; each time I bore a differ ent name. as buried, tr to suppose toj ' havejbee'n, by Wijwwmip)li'.yi'fv SA course, was the person lu whose favor my insurance was drawn. I. have had in all five thousand pounds, within the space of five years, obtained in this way. The last time I undertook it, my accomplice, after drawing the money refused to give me my usual share, two- thirds. Knowing that I was in his power, I dared not proceed to extreme- ties with him; so I let him depart with his ill-gotten gains.' But the disappoint ment of my last effort was too much for me ; and here I am defeated at last, and brought to a bed which is really a couch of death." xnen, saia JLr. winter, "oy my silence, dreading lest I betrayed the dishonor of a dead friend, I connived at felony, and helped two scoundrels to prey upon society. Oh, Edgar Percy, I would not have believed it of you? Can't you see," responded the dying man, with a feeble sneer, "that that is tbe reason why I was so successful? My ace stamped me not only pure, but above suspicion. So much for faces." Dr. Winter turned abruptly away shocked,' disgusted, and angry. Dun ning sent for a magistrate who took the confession of the impostor, who, how ever, refused to give the name of his confederate in crime. "He died at last, repenting at the eleventh hour, as is the custom with such med. Dr. Winter said he would rather have gone on fretting -now and then over .a mystery he -could' not solve,' than : to have it solved as this was. and that he could never; forgive himself for- being duped by Perey's lying letter, A Ureat Land Bolt. Governor PUlshury,. of . Mtawsots, as determined to transfer about 700,- 000 acres of land to the St. Paul and Pacific Railroad Company, that amount of its land grant having been earned by the company in tbe completion of its road from a point south of Glyndon north ward to Crooks ton. This action of the Governor has consequently agitated the Northern Pacific Railroad Com pany, and its attorneys have proceeded to file notices of lis pendens in the offices of Register of Deeds in the Counties of Wilkin, Otter Tail, Becker, Clay, Polk, Todd, Douglas, and probably others, by which the company gives warning to the purchasers that they have a claim or lien upon the lands in question. It is known that a contest has been; going on for half a'dozen years between the two great ' railroad companies above named as to which is entitled, to the land grant at the intersection of these two roads at Glyndon, embracing the alternate sections upon a strip 40 miles wide by 80 miles long, and taking in, it is said, something like 600,000 acres of land. There are a good many knotty points to be solved in this controversy, which - only the lawyers who have studied the case can intelligently ex plain, but it seems to stand in a general way like this r The Northern Pacific has a land grant of -20 sections to the mile, and the St. Paul and Pacific a land grant of 10 sections to the mile, and the principal point is as to which was the first to claim the lands at the Glyndon crossing. It is alleged' that the St. Paul and Pacific was the first to locate its line, but the Northern Pacific first to build its road and occupy the ground. Right here come in several collateral questions,, such as that the original Congressional land grant of 1857 to the St. Paul and Pacific con templated a route from St. Paul' to St. Cloud and Crow Wing,- and thence north-west wardly to St. Vincent, which route was changed by Congress, in 1871, from St-Cloud up the Sauk Valley to Alexandria, Fergus Falls, and 'Glyn don, and thence northward to St. Vin cent. What effect this change of base. may have upon the general result re mains to be tested in the courts, where the case has for a long time been pend ing. The complications are such that the executive officers of the General. Government seem to be as much in the dark upon the merits of the question as veryhody else, and Secretaries Delano and Chandler held opposite views upon the subject one believing that the St. Paul and Pacific is entitled to the dis puted land, and the' other considering the claim of the Northern Pacific to be the best. In thi emergency the United States Courts will be called upon to de cide the points at issue, and that the contest may be speedily settled is de voutly to be wished, in view, of the eager demand of settlers for homesteads upon that Immense section of- disputed territory, .But as large bodies move slowly, and as nothing can be much Blower than large suits in the United States courts, the prospect that the end of this trouble will be seen in tl life line of people now living is not par ticularly brilliant. On a cold, clear i got of the winter of I860,' a rich C ,man brewer of St Louis was on tbe ' from the brewery to his handsome bo in Market Street, y pondering very gra fly upou some sub ject of great apps j nt anxiety as he hastened along. : ' 'er a marriage of many years u(g wu . the first time, a fat; was not a favera alms, and hence w' for help by a poor had often employ who lived in one1 out becoming, for r... - 7 occasion lone 1 accosted i he 1 yjwhom he rug jobs, and trid x row f forlorn i southward from response was not mn followed him lis entreaties, houses a short dy I his own mansion . gracious. ,,, But, alohgajid r--' f.- ftl p",; " baby, scarcely an houroM, was wailing for covering and warmthin his wretch ed den of a tenement. This pitiable information touched the Worthy Ger man's heart at that moment with Irre sistible effect, and he handed fae peti tioner a generous gift, with the premise to see what better could be done for him on the morrow.' - Toward the dawn of that morrow the good Samaritan's wife became the mother of a son, which lived not an hour. At the time of the child's death the sick lady was uncon scious and in a very cridcal condition, and ' husband, nurse and : physician trembled at the thought of what might bo the ' fatal effect of the news when first the poor mother siould demand to be shown her babe. Jearly .frenzied for some means of averting what all dreaded, the brewer suddenly bethought him of the destitute and desparing fa ther who had addrested him in the street. Why might pot that man's child be substituted for his own dead son .in the recognition of the sick mother: until that mother should have regained her physical strength suffi ciently to endure a knowledge of the truth? The idea was communicated to the physician and nurie, who approved it as an only, if desperate, resource, and in a short time thereafter, the nurse and father repaired to the tenement house for its -attempted execution. -Upon hearing . their oft-time benefactor's strange proposition, the Impoverished parents of the living baby could not but consent. They were near starvation, ana tne unwitting nttle one, now shivering with cold, could . experience no harm. In short, the brewer and his attendant carried back the wailiug mite with them, and the dead child was for tho nontfe-Jtfit'eyedto the 'tenemeiit house.. When the sjck mother, in the course of a few hours, resumed con sciousness, she at onde made the antic! pated request, and upon seeing the bor rowed babe, gathered it fervently to her arms and fell asleep with its head upon her breast. Deception, even for the -most generous purposes, is always dan gerous, and now that it has been so practiced upon his wife, the brewer dared not undo It. Finally, forming a daring resolve, he sought again ' the squalid father and mother, and 'offered them a sum of money sufficient to keep them in comfort for life if thev would suffer the dead infant to be buried as their own and allow their boy to be left with him ia perpetual parental adop tion. According to -the local paper which completed the strange story, this proposition was, after' some hesitation, agreed to. Before tbe wife of the brewer had become convalescent, the parents of him who she yet believed to be her own son, had removed to another city, richer than ever before in their lives by many thousand dollars; nor is It known that the secret was. revealed to her for several years from the date of Its inception.-" Two or three years ago the brewer died : and, although his will related enough of the story to make valid its bequest of a fortune to the fos ter son at his majority; that how well educated and well-grown youth knew not his whole story until it was confided to him lately by his own true sire, call ing him to his dying bedside in the workhouse- Losing his wife soon after their removal from St. Louis, ' the man had turned his curiously acquired for tune to bad account, squandered it all, and thus came to pauperism. Thus ends a strange tale. Oiiicti of tin Don. . .- , ' One Don Cossaok Is so like another that the idea is difficult to get rid of that they have all been made to order in one mould, aud that In ease of acci dent their heads, arms or legs are inter changeable. The Cossack is not a very savory gentleman, but . Galats is a fine place for taking the edge off one's sen sibilities regarding smells; and we can get to' windward of tbe Cossack we. wish to inspect, which is more than we can do in regard to the Galatt drains. Friend Cossack Is a little chap, about five feet five, even on his high heels; but at once sturdy ' and wlryx H' weather-beaten face Is shrewd,'knowinf and merry. Hi eyes are small,' but keen ; his n.outh Urge, aud between it and his pug no el rather redder than the rest of bis face-if tuft or wisp or straw-colored m ugtache. His long, thick, straight, ' hair matches his moustache- in color, and is cut sheer round by the nape cf his neck. He wears a rouad oilskin peakless shako with a knowing cock to the right, to maintain which angle there Is a strap round his chubby chin. Below the neck the Cossaei is all boots and greatcoat exteriorly, ine greatcoat, whtghis cf tMck pr:y tlani )"b comes down betow bis knees; his boots come up to them. Ee is more armed tnan any man of his inches In Europe, Is our little Cossaok ' friend, and could afford to loose a weapon or two and yet be a very dangerous customer. Weapoi number one Is the- long black flagless lance, with its venomous head that seeing itching tomakedayllghCthrougl; somebody. He carries carbine slung in an oilcloth cover, on his back, the stock downward- In, his. belt is long and well-made revolver in leather case, and from, the belt hangs a curved jword with no guard over its hilt. ' Through the chinks of his great coat are visible glimpses of a sheepskin undercoat with the hair worn inside even . when . the thermometer vuaeg. in the sun. ills whip com pletrs his personal appurtunances ; he wears no spurs, lie rides,- cooked op on hLrt saddle wUh a leathern. band strapped over it, a wiry little rat of pony, with no middle piece to speak of with a ewe neck and a gaunt, project ing head, with ragged flanks,' loose hocks, limp fetlocks, shelly fet t, and a general aspect of knackerlsm the sort of animal, in fine, for which a ooeter- mouger would think twice before be offered ' three quid for It at the north ern Tattcrsall's on the outskirts of tbe Metropolitan Cattle Market, on a Friday afternoon. But the screw Is of indom itable gameness and toughness lives where most other horses would starve Is fresh when' most other horses are knocked up and Is fit to carry tea rider across Europe, as Cossack ponies have lioLe before to-day. The Cossacks seem to be used indiscriminately for all sorts of work. They were the first to enter Roumania, they ride about alone with dispatches, they escort suspected spies keeping the head of their lance care fully within easy distance of tbe small of the suspect's back, to be handy for skewering him. if he would attempt escape; and. Cossacks are placed on guard over the ships at the Galats quay to prevent their attempting departure Dismounting and shackling his pony by a hobble on each fore-leg, connected by a leather strap with another hobble around the left hind leg above the hock the Cossack takes up a position on the extreme edge of the jetty,' with his lance pointed in the direction of tbe ship, as if he would transfix it should it attempt to escape, and there he Stands, self-contained, affablec alert, and with a general aspect conveying the idea that he is patroniaiojr that section of Chris tendom within his purview. He will accept a cigarette, and tender you light from his in tbe friendliest manner but you will never coax him to take his eye for a single minute off the ship which he has in custody. The Circas sian Cossacks differ in some respects srom tbe Don Cossacks. They ride larsrer ponies, thev wear busbies of Astrachan fur with a scarlet busby bag, and their greatcoat Is black, having its bosom slashed , with a receptacle for catrldges, while they carry their carbine in a cover of Astrachan fur." " They are all comparatively young men, and nearly all married, of course to young wives. It often happens. in tbe present Instance, that they are away from home during a war for one, or even , three or lour years, ana one unfortunate result is that some of the wives Teft behind do not prove to be LucretiasJ ' -The Cossacks are quite aware of this, and many, of them, on returning home, buy a white scarf or handkerchief,, which they take with them- Upon entering their villages, the whole . population women, girls, old men and' children come out to meet them,' Including, of course, the wives of the returning wancerers. Now those of the wives who have been unfaithful to their lords, of which there is usually a considerable sprink ling, go forward to their husbands,' kneel down before them in the road put their faces in the dust, and place their husband's foot upon their necks. This is a confession of guilt, and at the same time a prayer for forgiveness." If the husband then covers his wife's bead with the white scarf it meant that he forgives her, asks no questions, and obliterates the past. In this case no one has a right ever to reproach the wife with her. Inconstancy; and If any one should be yab enough, to do so, be would have to. answer to the husband, who Is the protector of his wife's honor. If, on. the contrary, the white handker chief Is not produced, the worn in re turns straight to her father's house without again entering her husband's dwelling, and a divorce is pronounced. Although there Is generally a consider able sprinkling of women who come for ward to kneel down and put their faces in the dust, it rarely happens that they are not forgiven.1 ," ' ; Occasionally a pot-pie dinner Is served at the Berks County,. Pa., Almshouse which requires the following ingre dients: The slaughtered calves, making about 249 pounds of veal ; eighty pounds of beef; one and a quarter barrels of flour, and from eight to ten bushels of potatoes. This .is decidedly a .Berks County pot pie, and 1 regarded by the inmatea of the Almshouse as a boss dinner, the arotnacf. which UilTused throughout (he long halls of the numer- erous apartments or tne lnsuiuuon. Fer the seasoning of this pot-pte sever al pounds of pepper, a large quantity of salt, and about a bushel basketful of parsley, celery leaves, sweet marjoram and other herbs are chopped up together and mixed with the meat and potatoes, contributing largely to the savory odor. Things done by halves are never well done. A Bird CifflnbM, That trim, gentle-looking ' drab-colored "bird, erroneously called turtle dove by dwellers in the United States and generally deemed so utterly inno cent, and pure that to kill it for the ta ble or any ofher use is braaded as cri minal in the extreme, is not so Innocent after all. : Its moaning, sad-sounding voice is a mockery and a cheat; its soft, dark eyes are a sham; its sober, Quaker garb is calculated to deceive ; lu timid movements are not to be trusted. When once it has been insulted or injured by one or its kind, the dove, becomes as cruel and outrageously heartless as any murderer can be, Some years ago I witnessed a fight between two moaning doves, which for otter barbsrounneu courtl hot'DeMceededr'r-' auillng" in a brook for sun perch, half prone on a grassy bank, lost In a brow a study, with a cigar between my lips, when I happened to see a dove alight on a gnarled bough of a plane-tree a few yards distent. Immediately it began to coo in that dolefully plaintive strain so well known to every lover of nature, aud was soon joined by a male, mbo perched himself within a foot or so of her. I espied their nest, not yet finish ed, in tbe fork of an Iron-wood tree near by. The birds made very express ive signs to each other with their heads by a series of bows, nods and side wise motions, of which I understood enough to know that some Intruder was near perhaps they meant me. The fish were not biting any too well, but the shade was pleasant and the grass fragrant, the sound of. the water very soothing, and the flow of the wlud steady and cooling, so I did not care to move just to humor tbe whims of a pair of billing doves.' It proved however, after all, that I was not the cause of alarm. ' Another. fmale dove presently dropped like a hawk from a dark dense mass of leaves above the pair, and struck the first on the back with beak and wings. A fight ensued, witnessed with calm interest by tnyselt and the male dove. At first the combatants struggled desperately together on the bough, fiercely beating each other with their wings, and plucking out tbe feathers from breast and neck, all the time ut tering low,' querulous notes, different from anything I had ever before heard. Pretty soon they fell off the bough and came whirling down upon the ground, where they continued the battle with oonstanty-lnereaaing fury, their eyes flashing Are, and cuttiug and thrusting with their beaks like swordsmen Blood began to show Itself about their heads, and in places their necks were quite bare of feathers. . When at last one of them became so exhausted that further struggle was impossible, the ether proceeded to take its stand npon its helpless opponent,, and would have quickly made an end of It had I not la- terfered. The vanaulshed bird was minus an eye, and was unable to fly for some minutes. Tbe secret of the battle was jealousy. The male sat by and watched in a nonchalant way until it was all over, when he very lovingly strutted up to the victorious bird, and began cooing in a low, soothing tone. From that day te this I have repudiated the figure "innocent as. a dove," and whenever opportunity offered, have sped a two-ounce arrow full at the breast of tbe bird, widow or no widow. When properly cooked by parboiling, stuffing and baking, a dove is a choice bit for the table. While on this sub ject, I may add that in tbe Southern States doves otten congregate in innu merable swarms, like pigeons, and do srreat damage to the peanut fields, yet there the prejudice against killing them is so great that you rareiy see a trap or prlng set lot tuem, or a gun isveiiea at them. Tbe Foot mm tha rn4. The foot and the pound are found In every country, and have evidently been derived directly from tbe Romaas. But they can claim a far higher antiquity, fox Mr. Chisholm trace their origin to the Babylonians or Chaldeans, who, as unite of length, used both the cubit and the foot. These were subsequently adopted by the Egyptians, who intro duced considerable -variety, so that there is no little confusion between the different kinds of oublt and foot. , The natural cubit, of about 18 inches, and the foot, which was two-thirds of this length, were transferred to Greece, and, the cubit having fallen into disuse, the foot became the ordinary standard of the Romans.' At the earn: time the double cubit, which was. equivalent to three feet, would appear to have sur vived in the form of the ell of medkeval Europe, and in that of our own land. As all these measures were originally derived from the proportions of the hu- man body, some caution is necessary In referring their origin toremouantlqul- ty rather than directly to the length of the forearm or of the foot. It must be admitted, however, that the coinci dence of length , among all civilised nations is very striking. The deriva tion of the pound weight Is more com plicated. The earlier Tower pound ap pears to have been of Roman origin, bein ir presumably identical with' the Greek-Asiatic mina, while the huiidred- weleht corresponded to the talent or weiehtof a cubiti foot of water. Subse quently the Troy pound was substitu ted, and for commercial transactions. the pound avoirdupois, from the old French pound or 16 ounces, it is evident,- however, that the weights and ueasuresin the dark -ages were-'Ja an unsettled state, and subject to arbitrary alterations at the will of the monarch. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Wit resemble a coquette; those who the most eagerly run after it are the least favored. Thsra Is no heart so utterly hardened that It cannot be touched by woman love and tenderness. Mort ot their Vaults women owe to us, whilst we are Indebted to them for most of our better fuallUe. - - A man writing an anonymous letter Is like a puppy Inside an aaolosure, barklog at you with his nose acder the gate. . . Opposition Is what we want and must ' have to be good for anything. Hardship Is the native soil of UidtundinM n4 elf-feUano. ' If a man is not rising upward to be an aorel. depend anon it r- U lnkln nop at tuebtt. - A lie la a hllUeaa aword, whleh la sure to cut the hand of him who strikes with It. It is better to find this eut at first than afterward. - The consecrated life is not a Ufa of perpetual joy; Itlsao humble, para, vehement life, all glvoa up to tbe ser vice of God and our brothers. Reproof, especially as It relate to chlldren,adminlstered la all gentleness, will reader to culprit not afraid bat ashamed to repeat til offeds. Never was a sincere word utterly lost, never a magnanimity fell to tbe ground; there Is some hsart always to greet and accept It unexpectedly. Watch over yourself; be your own accuser, then your judge; ask yoarself ? ;race aometlrnvs, and, if there Is naecL mpose npon yourself some pain. Stories first heard at a mother's knee are never wholly forgotten a lltU sprinr that never oilto dries ud la our journey through scorching years. . . As frost to the bud and blight to th blossom, even such is self-loterest to friendship ; for oonfidenoa oannot dwell wher selfishness ia porter at th ..... Oratory and poetry ar of UtU vala uulesstbey reach tb highest perfec tion ; but hls.ory, la whatever way It may be executed. Is a sooro of plea sure. Too much la said to children; too much notice taken of them and thalr affairs. In this way restlessness, fret fulness and self-importance are pro moted. .. ' I believe In building fin houses, so that they ar well proportioned ; and la beautiful furniture; and In beautiful men and woman to as them. . It 'a not selfish. , ,. . Rhetoric in serious discourse 1 Ilk the flowers in corn, pleasing to tho who com only for amusement; but prejudicial to him who would rap profit from lb ' '. Tim sheds a softness nil nmnta nh. jecU of events, as local distance Impart to th landscape a smoothness and mel lowness which disappear on a nearer approach. . There Is on slngl fact, say Hannah More, which on way oppos to all tb wit aud argument or Infidelity that no man ever repented of being a Christian on his deathbed. It is a special trick of low cunning to squeese out knowledge from a modest man, who is eminent in any sclane, and then to ns It as legally acquired and pass tb soar of scieao. How vilely h has lost himself that becomes a slave to his servant and ex alte him to th dignity of his Maker I Gold is th god, tb wlf. th friend, of the money-monger of th world. To lov all mankind, from th great est to th lowest, a cheerful stau of being la required ; but In order to a Into manklud. Into life, and all II tnarm. into ourselves, suffering la required. W should never forget that bom la tb residence not merely of th body, but also of the mind fand that th atw Ject of all ambition should b to b sappy at home, and to render horn hippy.. , . m . Tb fireside ia a stmlnarv of Inflnlt Importance becaus It Is nulversal, and oeoaas me education it bestows,' being woven In with th woof of ehlldaood. rives form and color to th wool tex ture of lire. . , A man who can give op dreaming and go to bis dally re II ties I who can smother down his heart, (to love or woe, and tak to th work of his hand, and defy fate, and, if be must die, dies fight- . in to tb last that man U life's best hro - ' Th recognition of virtu Is not valuable from th Up of .a man woo bates it, since truth force him to ac knowledge It; and though b may be unwilling to take It Into hie 4osot soul, be at last decks himself oat in lu trappings. A man may be a heretic to tb troth : and If he believes things only- becaas his pastor savs so. or ine assembly a determines, without knowing other reasons, though his belief be true- yet tbe very truth he holds becomes his heresy. Ther Is not any burden that some would gladller pnt off to another, than th charge and car of tbelr rail- floa. 7. Th only thing which rive vain to prayer Is th Inward conviction that w ar sitting or standing, walking, or lylngdown.suriounded by tb preseoo of an infinite lov and care. And thl feeling w may carry with as wherever we go, Into our work or plsy, oar shop and our parlor. Not much praying, but a grest deal of prayer. Is th highest state of tb soal. ' Th most agreeable of all companion Is a simple, Iraak man, without .any blgh pretensions to an oppressive greets ne: on who loves life, and uuJ ttand tb useof It; obliging alike at all limes, above all a roldea temper, ensl steadfast as an anchor. . For such a on w would gladly exchange th greatest " renins, the snoot brilliant w!t, Uie roundest thinker. -- - ' Let s send light and joy, If w can, to the and of tb earth. Th charity which Is no active for distant otJect Is noble. We only wish toey that It ranks behind the obscurer philanthropy whiuht wkll It sympathise with th race, enters deeply into the uitnils, wants and Interests of th individuals wltbln Its reach, and devoU-s lu-if pa tiently and wlst-iy to th tk of brlog tng them to a t' -her standard of intel lectual and moral worth.
Statesville American and Tobacco Journal (Statesville, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
March 9, 1878, edition 1
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