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DEMOTED TO THE AGRICULTURAL, MECHANICAL, POkTTCAL AND MATERIAL INTERESTS OF NORTH CAROLINA.
DXvilfjL WUIUHAKD. ' Editors and Proprietors.
• GREENVILLE, PITT CO.,
—— -#—-• t :
N. C., THURSDAY, JULY 21, 1881.
VOL. IV. NO. 39.
I
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4
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i
A Lore Song.
Oh lassie, wilt thou gang with me
Adown the meadows green ?
The pretty thrush sings merrily
The lilac-leaves between ;
The ox-eyed daisy noddeth low
Among the grasses wet;
The soft wind sigheth sweet and low
Athrough thy locks of jot.
And wherefore should I gang*with thee
Adown the meadows green,
E’en though the thrush sing merrily
The lilac-leaves between?
Low nods the modest daisy flower
The soft wind bloweth free ;
B,ut, at this early matin hour,
Why should I gang with thee ?
The ivy singeffj on the wall,
With sunlight glints between ;
Oh lassie, thou so fair and tall,
Como down the meadows green !
Apd by yon brook grow violets blue,
Like unto thy sweet eyes,
Oh come and hoar my lovo so true—
The love that never dies I
Yea, laddie, an’ that bo the why,
I fain would gang along—
Tor true, true love doth never die, :'
-? But yearly waxoth strong,
Oh winds, and flow’rs, and ivy-vine, \
How sweet you be to-day ! ,
Oh yellow sun, how bright you shine !
Come, laddie, let’s away !
KENNETH CARLE’S LOVE.
They aro standing upon the cliff to
gether, Kenneth Carle and .Grace Ells
worth, and he is holding jher hand in
his and gazing earnestly into her beauti
ful gray eyes.
“Grace, turn back,” he exclaimed,
passionately; “turn back before it is too
late. You do not know what you are
doing ; you—”
“I believe I know my own mind,”
interrupted Grace, with a forced, laugh.
“Iam perfectly sane, I assure you.”
Kenneth looked at her with a sad,
doubtful expression on- his handsome
face.
“I cannot deem it possible,” he says.
“I never thought that Grace Ellsworth
would sell herself for gold, paltry
gold!” '
She disengages her hand from his
. 'clasp, and drawing herself up haughtily,
replies in a cold tone that tlio tears in
• her eyes belie,—
“Neither would I, Mr. Carle. Yog
preovmic- t^r-mneh upon friendship; but
there are some things that even friend
ship does not make admissible. You
are very unjust jj^jraur accusation. My
heart is my own and I am free to bestow
it upon whom I please, .fray do not
speak of selling again.”
“I amtto infer, then,” he says “that
you have never loved me; you have been
trifling with mo all this time, you—”
“Infer anything you please,” retorts
Grace, hotly. “It makes no differenee
to me.”
“Ah!”
It, is not a short exclamation that
Kenneth Carle utters, but a long, low
sigh, that thrills Grace’s heart with a
strange emotion, and causes tho color to
rush in her cheeks. Then there is a
long silence, while Kenneth gazes fixedly
at tile glass beneath his feet, and Grace
stands motionless now and then casting
covert glances at her companion.
“Mr. Carle,” she says, suddenly, “look
at the darkening' skv. There %jll bo
a storm soon, I shall return to the house.
Will you come with me or stay here ?”
“I will stay here,” lie replies, without
raising his eyes from the ground ; and
she turns and leave? him.
At a short distance she pauses and
looks behind her. She sees the rocky
cliff, with the sea lathing itself into
foam at its base ; the tall figure standing
near its edge, liis "bead bowed, hi? dark,
Greek-like . features clearly outlined
agaiusti the dull gray sky, and an ex
pression of anguish aud pain crosses
her face. It is succeeded, however, by
a look of stem determination, and in
a low, firm voice she says,—
“I will not let this foolish love con
quer. Money I want, and money I will
have. I shail wed this rich stranger,
for indeed he is a'most a stranger to
me, and Kenneth Carle shall diever be
more to me than a friend.”
As Grace has predicted, a storm comes
up quite suddenly; and as she is quite
a distance from her home, she seeks
shelter in a cottage at the foot of the
hill.
It is a quaint, low-roofed building of
very ancient date, and has been inhab
ited for pi any years by a tall, gypsy
looking woman who, when she first took
up her abode there, was a comely,
bright-eyed, rosv-cheeked maiden, and
now an old woman, yellow-skinned and
gaum.
Her black eyes, though, have never
lost their keen brightness, but shine
with such a steady, piercing light that,
when any valuables are lost, the vil
lagers laughingly remark that they could
discover them instantly had they the
light of Mother Leman’s eyes to aid
them.
These bright eyes turn upon Grace
now as she enters the one room of the
cottage that serves as kitchen, chamber
and parlor, and a metallic voice says :
“Ah, is it you, my child, Grace? You
were caught in the shower; are you not
drenched Y‘
“Oh, no,” Grace replies, seating her
self. “I have walked very fast, and the
wide-spreading trees sheltered me. Ton
are very busv, I see. Do yon never rest,
Mother Leman 7” with an arch smile.
* ‘Tes, when the night comes,” replies
the old woman. “But, my child, you
are ill.” ,
“No, indeed,” says Grace. “Why, I
thought I was looking unusually healthy.
Are not my eyes bright, my cheeks rosy ?
For once, Mother Leman, your eyes,
sharp as they are, have deceived you.”
“No, I am sure you are ill,” the other
says, gazing at Grace so earnestly that
she grows flushed and warm and wishes
those pierceing eyes.would turn in some
other direction. “You are ill, not phy
sically, perhaps, but mentally. Grace,
my child,” wamingly, “take an old
woman’s advice and never exchange an
oia love ior a new.
Now, Mother Leman lias heard several
stories concerning Grace and her two
suitors, and determines to discover
whether they are teal facts or idle
rumors. J§lie is satisfied* as to their
truth when she sees Grace start sud
denly, while her face flushes deeply.
“Ah, Grace, my child,” she says,
“don’t act against yout own heart. Turn
back, turn back, before it is too late.”
Grace draws back haughtily, while
the same proud, angry expression that
she wore when Kenneth Carle uttered
the same words crossed her face.
“I don't know what you mean,” rises
to her lip3, but knowing it is useless to
try to evade or deceive this sharp-eyed
woman, she answers : ■
“I am acting as my heart dictates. I
see no reason why you should warn me.”
And Mother Leman, perceiving that
the subject is an unpleasant one to
Grace, immediately changes it.
It is not long before the storm clears
away, and Grace takes her departure.
She is fully resolved now; she will
marry the wealthy stranger and crush
her. love for Kenneth -Carle. Nothing
can alter her decision.
That very day the betrothal is sealed,
and preparations for the wedding, com
menced.
The wealthy suitor showers costly
presents upon her with a lavish hand;;
but somehow they do not afford Grace
the pleasure she anticipated. The little ,
ruby ring that Kenneth gave her is far!
more precious to her than all the mil- i
lionaire’s diamonds.
At last the eventful day arrives, and
Grace dons the pure white wedding
robes that .are worth a fortune in-them-,
selves, excepting the costly jewels that
glitter on her fair neck and arms, and
among the braids of blue-black hair.
Then the bridal party are driven away
to the village church, and the marriage
ceremony is performed.
Grace stands like a statue through it
all, her face white and cold as the
sparkling diamonds about her, and the
village maidens’ envy turns to pity, for
they see what the love-blind husjiand
does not, that she is an unhappy bride.
* Kenneth Carle is not present at the
wedding ; he went away a week ago, the
villagers say, and Grace is spared the
pain of seeing him.
A few hours later Grace and her hus
band have left the little village and are
on their way to the Old World, where,
amid new scenes and new people, sur
rounded by every luxury that money
can buy, Grace will endeavor to forget
ner sorrow.
Ten years later. In the largest,
handsomest room that the “Eyrie Ho
tel” can afford sit two gentlemen; one
a slim, blonde young man, whose attire
borders on the “dandy” style, the other
a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman,
whom we have met before, Kenneth
Carle. But he is no longer known by
that name, for some reason of his own
he has changed it to Ellis Cary.
Ten years have altered him' greatly;
indeed, it would be difficult for his
nearest friend to recognize him. He is
thinking of old times now ; and, chanc
ing to glance into the mirror opposite,
smiles at the bronzed, bearded face
revealed there as he contrasts it with
the smooth, boyish one of ten years ago.
He is aroused from his revery by the
voice of his^companion, saying,—
“I say, Cary, have you seen the new
arrival—a young widow, with no end of
a fortune ? Worth looking after, I tell
you. There she goes now.”
Kenneth glanced out of the window
in tiqie to see a slender figure, attired
in deep mourning, pass by ; but her
head is averted, and he does not see her
face.
“Handsome, too,” continued his
friend “I got an introduction last
evening. I’ll present you to-night.”
That evening Kenneth Carle, for by
that name he is best known to us, meets
the young widow in the hotel parlor,
and is introduced to her.
“Mrs. Ashly, Mr. Cary.”
The widow bows low, and softly mur
murs a few words of acknowledgement.
Kenneth glances at her face and draws
a long breath of surprise, for beneath
the dainty widow’s cap he recognizes
the blue-black hair, the dark grey eyes,
the piquant features of his old love,
Grace Ellsworth.
“Shall I reveal myself to her?” he
asks himself; and after a moment’s
!hesitation decides he will not, for the
present, at least. She does not recog
nise him; let her know him only as
Ellis Cary.
The
ie days pass by, and slowly the con
viction dawns upon him that he is fal
ling in love with Grace Ashly over
again. Yet, is it over again ? Is it not
the old love that he believed dead rising
like a phoenix from the ashes ? He can
not tell; he only knows that she.has
grown very dear to him, dearer than
the maiden Grace Ellsworth had been.
At last he determines to know his
fate, and, without revealing his identity,
he
fair
asks
her to be his bride. Grace’s
face does not flush, nor her eyes
droop, as she places her hand in his
and replies,—
Mr. Cary, let me tell you my story,
and then if you are willing to claim me,
Ten years ago I met
I will consent.
‘Kenneth Carle and loved him. He was
;hot wealthy, and in my desire for riches
I cast him off for another, who I knew
could give me everything my heart de
sired. Everything, did I say? Oh, no!
ihe could not give me happiness. Since
his death I have traveled from place to
place, until I came here and met you.
I like you, I respect you greatly, but I
cannot love you. I can never love
again. If, knowing this, you are willing
to make me your wife, I have nothing
more to say.”
“And if this Kenneth Carle should
return and ask you to marry him, would
you do so V” her companion asks.
“No, no,” replies Grace, sadly; “that
is impossible.”
“It is not impossible,” Kenneth says,
passionately. “Don’t you know me,
Grace?”
Grace looks up into his face with a
• dazed expression. The resemblance has
■puzzled her,<but it is all clear now.
“Yes/
Kenneth, I know you now,’
? she replies. 1 ‘Kenneth, after wronging
you so much, can you still love me ?”
“I can and do,” he replies. “Grace,
mydarliDg, is it yes ?”
He looks dovsn into her pretty face,
1 withits flushe d cheeks and shyly droop
: ing eyes, and there reads his answer.
And
on the following September
| Grace dons the wedding robes for the
1 second time, and ere the merry bells
have ceased pealing she has become the
‘bride of her first and only love, Ken
: neth Carle.—-Waverly Magazine.
The Baroness Coutts as an Entertainer.
The Baroness Burdett-Ooutts has got
quite over her virgin blushes, and, hav
ing at the ripe age of sixty summers
tasted the sweetness of love’s young
dream, she and her juvenile husband
have embarked on a long course of par
ties. She gives - a fashionable dinner
every other day, and people of title ire
as numerous on her visiting list as cent
pieces on a collection plate when an ap
peal is made for the distressed heathen.
One thing, however, is remarkable about
these dinners. No young women go to
them. Boyish Mr. Burdett-Coutts is
pot nearly thirty yet, so the Baroness
wisely keeps temptation out of his way.
{For all his sleekness-the poor fellow be
gins to wear a jaded, tired, worn and
weary look, which seerps to hint of the
possibility of his golden world palling
upon him. Whatever he thought before
he mated with a fortune, part of a bank
and half a county of acres, there can be
no doubt that to-day Mr. Burdett-Coutts
Bartlett is convinced of the kindness,
as well as the wisdom, of the barriers in
the tables of consanguinity, that a man
shall not be allowed to;marry his grand/
mother. A few days ago the Baroness
Went to court, husband and all, but the
Queen snubbed her terrifically, and the
venerable lady went home agarn in a very
bad temper. In her agitation she lost a
valuable sapphire brooch, which slipped
bff her dress, and was brushed by the
trains of some ladies under a piebe of
pippg in one of the passages of Buck
ingham Palaee. This musty but mod
em palatial pile is, however, dusted
once a week, and so it chanced that} one
Jemima Ann of the royal kitchen swept
the valuables out of their hiding place
exactly five days after they had been
lost. Still the Baroness has not quite
recovered from the cold shouldering she
received ait the hands of the crown.—
London Olobe.
Flower of the Uassla Tree.
The flower of the bassia tree, which
grows in India, has curious properties.
It presents no remarkable features at
the time of its opening, but after a few
days, when the fruitification has been
accomplished, the petals begin to swell
and become fleshy. After a while the
carolla falls to the ground, charged with
saccharine matter, leaving the pistil on
the tree to grow into an excellent fruit.
The corocla itself has also acquired the
properties of an edible fruit, and is at
tractive to insects, beasts and men.
Numbers of people come from consider
able distances to gather the fallen
flowers. They dry them and eat them,
either in the natural state or cooked,
and make of them a regular article of
merchandise. A liquor is distilled from
them which has a dreadful odor, and
produces worse effects than other alco
holic drinks,
A Freak of Fortune.
A Chicago journalist is an intimate
friend of a Chicago millionnaire. In a
recent confidential conversation oc
curred the following narrative, ns re
produced in the Chicago Inter-Ocean?
After sitting in reflective silence for
a few moments, Mr. Blank said sud
denly: “I’ve a itotion to tell you my
story. It is so singular that it may he
incredible, and it is certainly not an
experience one would think I had gone
through.”
The reporter .^pressed a desire to
hear the story. ***■
“I will tell you, upon condition that
will never mention my name in
connection with it.”
The promise of secrecy was readily
given.
“I do not propose,” said-.Mr. Blank,
as he puffed leisurely a fragrant cigar,
“to be so specific that I will worry you.
you
All you want to know is the general
circumstances, of course. Well, I came1
from Devonshire nearly thirty years ago,
landing in New York, at about the age
of twenty-five, with my wife, a few
pounds in my pocket and a stout heart.
I had come to seek my fortune like
many young men before mo who found
their native land unkind in care of them.
Almost upon my arrival I was taken
sick, and before I had secured any em
ployment a fever seized me, and when
weeks afterward I came back to life my
money was gone and we wore in debt
for rent. My poor wife had made a
few dimes hero and there doing cheap
sewing, but the little she could do was
not enough, and much before I was
able I arose from my bed to seek for
work. Those were sorry days for us, I
can tell you. Up and -down the streets
I waudered, asking every place for
work; but I wus weak and emaciated,
and no one cared to give me employ
ment. I was not worth it, really, and
so I went on far two weeks, my health
soarcely improving, my case becoming
more and im
utterly exha
ing miserabj
for my wife;1
that stood aj
guess that I iio fell asleep,
when I becadlf conscious ot
desperate. One day,
and discouraged, feel
d sick, ready to die but
.nk down upon a box
"st a lamppost on Broad
way. I took my hat off that the breeze
might cool njy burning head, and I
Anyway,
Where 1
ewhat rested, I arose
at, when some small
upon the sidewalk. My
though a miracle had
picked these up, and
lyhat. Altogether I had
re was a good supper
e, and I had besides
said to myself, I was
perfectly willing to work for a little
money and no one would employ me;
now since people are willing to give me
money without work I will accept it
that way, and I did. Every day after
that I slouched down at a corner on
some public thoroughfare and held out
my hat. I asked no one for alms, but
just sat there with my hat out. As fast
as any money was dropped in I trans
ferred it to my pockets. The first day
I took in §2.50, and from that time my
earnings were never less and they have
was and felt soj
to put on my|
coins rolled or
heart throbbed
been performecl
found others in I
nearly .$1. T?
for my wife and|
got an idea.
to
rup as high as 825 in a day. I took
all sorts of tricks to look miserable and
played upon the public, though I was
soon as well and vigorous as the best
who came along. Well, sir, I kept this
business up six years, and at the end of
that time I had actually taken in a little
over $30,000, of which I had $20,000 in
bank, a little in many banks. ‘ I then
had two children, and we lived com
fortably. When I found I had $20,000
I concluded to invest it. I did. I
bought stocks, and after quietly specu
lating two years I had made $227,000,
and concluded to give up my old life
and become a gentleman again. I came
West. I bought land in this vicinity.
In a short time that land more than ever
made me a rich man, and to-day I am
worth not a penny less than $800,000.
sir, all came from a beggar’s hat
That,
in the streets of New York. Strange
story? I think so myself. Really, it now
seems to me that alb this was a dream.
It does not seem real.”
Mr. Blank relighted his cigar, leaned
comfortably back in his chair and re
marked, “Never despise a beggar. You
can’t tell how rich he may be.”
The journalist went his way that after
noon wondering much, envious of the
mendicant at the comer,
to turn beggar himself.
and inclined
Af ter four marriages of a conventional
sort, and after arriving at the age of
eighty, a Kentuckian eloped pt night on
horseback with the youthful belle of
Buckner, hastened romantically to a
clergyman twenty miles away, was
chased by the angry father, and is now
enjoying a honeymoon tour. i i |
Hartmann, the Nihilist, was not cap
tured by the Russians, but is in London
on his way to New York.
Elias Ellis, of New YQrk, was the
originator of “dollar stores.” He re
cently died at the age of seventy.
Jenny Lind Goldschmidt is reckened
among the London millionaires,
LEPROSY.
Extent of thin Terrible Disease in the
United States.
The nightmare story of Mr. George
Cable of a leper secluded for years in a
house in New Orleans, says a New York
paper, turns out to be no novelist’s
fancy, but only a small part of the ter
rible fact. The annnal report of the
Louisiana board of health for 1880, con
tains a detailed statement of the pro
gress of the Asiatic leprosy in that State
during the last century. It was brought
in 1680 to the'"West Indies by the| ne
gro slaves, and thence to Louisiana. In
1778 this disease was so prevalent among
the blacks, together with the African
elephan iasis, and another equally hor
rible, named yaws, peculiar to Guinea
negroes, that a hospital for lepers was
established in New Orleans. At the
present time the majority of lepers in
,tbat city are found to be whites of
French, German and Russian extraction.
The disease seems to be hereditary, and
certain families are known to be infected
by it and are shunned as corpses would
be, could they walk and move and
spread about the contagion of death.
The mother of one of these families,
when the disease showed itself, was de
serted by husband and children, and
nursed until her death by a young girl
who now is a victim to it. An Italian
Catholic priest who attended cases of
leprosy in the Charity hospital is now
dying of it in the same house. New
Orleans, it appears, has no separate asy
lum for these incurable patients, and
they are received into the Charity hos
pital and placed in the crowded wards
to scatter death.
The president of the board of health
has made a personal investigation into
the extent of this disease even ventur
ing into the deathly swamps of the
lower Bayou Lafourche. This whole
district, he states, is several feet lower
than the turbid bayou, sloping back in
to cypress swamps liable to constant
overflow from crevasses. The poor
Creole inhabitants live in low huts sur
rounded by wet rice fields, living upon
fish and fish-eating birds. They are
separated from tlio rest of the world,
and have intermarried for generations.
So impregnated with disease is this re:
mote reniorx that so me ot tne exploring
party were struck down on reaching it
with violent hemorrhages and fever.
Of all foul corners of the world it is the
fittest for the disease most dreaded by
man since the beginning of the world
to hide with its prey. Below Harang’s
canal President Jones found Asiatic lep
rosy existing in different generations of
six families. Some of these wretched
creatures have been driven out from hu
man habitation, and are living apart in
the swamps, dying of decay. In some
instances their flesh had become as in
sensible as bone, and they were able to
handle fire with impunity. It was inr
possible to make a correct estimate of
their numbers, as a rumor spread among,,
them that the searching party had come
to carry them off to an uninhabited island
of the sea, and they hid themselves,
their friends, too, refusing to tell their
names or number.
In self-defence, if for no more hu
mane reason, the people of Louisiana
should provide a refuge where these
accursed beings may be isolated and
heltered. The disease is as incurable
and as contagious as in the days of
Moses. The only other place where it
exists in this continent, we believe, is
New Brunswick, near the bay of Cha
leur ; the lepers there are confined in a
hospital. in a lonely spot known in the
surrounding country as the Valley of
Hell.
A Tortoise with a Supply of Water,
At a meeting of the California Academy
of Sciences, a very fine specimen of the
desert land tortoise, from Cajon Pass,
San Bernardino county, in that State,
was received. The specimen had been
carefully prepared, and was as large as
an ordinary bucket. The tortoise is. a
native of the arid regions of California
and Arizona, and Professor E. T. Cox
who was present, related a curious cir
cumstance connected with it. He found,
on dissecting one of them, that it carried
on each side a membrane, attached to
the inner portion of the shell, in which
was about a pint of clear water, the
whole amount being about a quart.. He
was of the opinion that this water was
derived from the secretions of the giant
barrel cactus, on which the tortoise
feeds; This cactus contains a great deal
of water. The tortoise is found in sec
tions of the country where there is no
water, and where there is no vegetation
but the cactus, * A traveler suffering
from thirst could, in an emergency, sup
ply himself with water by killing a
tortoise. ; j
William Bennett, of Denton, Ala.
wanted to marry a servant girl. "If
you make such an alliance we will dis
inherit you,” his father wrote. “The
girl refuses me, and I ain about to com
mit suicide,” was the message returned
by the son before killing himself.
The Lewis College, atNorthfield, Vt.,
has conferred the degree of Doctor oi
Philosophy upon Edieon.
1 '■ T T W '- ': v | .l ,v r : v 1 -I' f
: ] ' . 1 . ■■ ' ':',> .. \ii !- -
MILE MEAT AS A DELICACY.
Expedients of the Confederate Soldier* at
theSieceof Port lindeon^
D. P. Smith, in the Philadelphia
Times, says: The twenty-first of May,
1862, found Port Hudson invested
by an army of thirty thousand men,
while Farragnt’s fleet guarded the river;
but the garrison of six thousand men
was provisioned for two months, so no
alarm was felt in regard to short rations,
as no one realized that the siege would
last more t^an a few weeks. About the
tenth of June a shell—they had been
seeking it for three weeks—found the
commissary building, sot it on fire, and,
with it, destroyed two thousand bushels
of corn and the grist-mill. Heavy were
the hearts of the corn-bread-loving
soldiery. Reduced rations of unground
com and cow peas were issued for sev
eral days, till the commissary rigged
up a portable grist-mill in the depot,
banded^om the driving wheels'of an
old locomotive blocked up. The com
missary was getting so low that the ex
pedient was tried of mixing it with peas,
but it was not a success, as the pea
meal would not cook in the bread, and
the peas were issued as a separate ra
tion. On the nineteenth of June the
mill was in good order, and a pound of
meal was issued per day, with a liberal
ration of peas and half a pound of
bacon.
The supply of fresh beef was ex
hausted early in the siege; but the bacon
lasted till about the twenty-fifth of
June. A number of mules remained,
which, unworked, had grown fat roam
ing through the fields and woods.
Some of these were slaughtered and the
meat served out to all who would tako
it. The flesh was rather coarse but
tender, with much of the flavor of veni
son. It was very fat, and the “Dutch”
ovens in which it was baked would be
half-full of yellow oil. Many of the
soldiers could not eat the novel food,
and lived on a corn-meal-and-pea diet.
To suit these delicate stomachs the
commissary corned a considerable
amount of choice portions of the meat,
and, announcing that forty barrels of
corned beef had been discovered issued
it to all. The general verdict was that
it was an unusually goad-artwiV* trv’T,,V,>
ruimcea to very coarse litre, those of the
garrison who kept well did not suffer
for. food, for when other rations failed
there were c jw peas,and these well boiled
made a very tolerable dinner. Beaten
in a mortar till the hull was loosened
and then wihnowed, they were not far
inferior to English split peas. They
were stowed in bulk on the; floor of an
old church, whose windows the concus
sion of the bombardment, and, perhaps,
a stray shell or two, had shattered into
fragments. In spite of care it was not
uncommon to get a splinter of glass
in the mouth while eating dinner. The
soldiers were accustomed to pea fare at
home, but seasoned with bacon, and
they pronounced it dry eating with
! glass as a substitute for meat. As the
Well men had to eat at the breastworks
day and night, the cooking was done by
negroes and details in sheltered spots in
the rear ; but the cooks had no bomb
proof positions, and minnie balls and
fragments of shell fell even in the fires.
One of the most serious questions to be
solved by cooks and commissaries was
to provide food for the sick. By the
latter part of June at least fifteen hun
dred men were on the sick and wounded
' lists. Boiled cow peas and mule steaks
were not dishes for invalids, but their
well comrades devised wa to giveys
-them some delicacies. Bullets were
cut up into shot and a wandering bird
occasionally killed, but the bombard
ment was too heavy for many such to
find their way into the lines. Bits,
however, were plentiful, burrowing
even under the fortifications, and miny
a one was served up in the hospitals as
squirrel. On July eighth, with about a
week’s rations for the twenty-five hun
dred men able to eat still on hand, Port
Hudson was surrendered.
She Took Her Sister’s Place.
Daisy Shoemaker, the pretty daughter
of a fanner living near Richmond, Va.,
had agreed to elope with Westland
Pierce, but when the critical moment
arrived she feared to transgress her par
ents’ wishes, and would not go to the
rendezvous. Her sister Jane, two years
her senior, begged to keep her trust with
her lover, but all in vain.
“Well, if yon don’t keep your word
with West. Pierce, I’ll do it for you,’
she said, and indignantly leaving her
sister, she got into the buggy and dashed
off, despite the screams of her sister.
Miss Jane reached the waiting place;
explanations were made; she said she
was willing to take her sister’s place.
The lover, touched by her pluck,'and
captivated by her determination not to
let the plan fall through, did actually
marry her. _ _
. Be not diverted from your duty by any
idle reflections the silly world may
make upon you, for their censurers are
not in your power, and consequently
should not be any part of your concern.
StrawbeiTy shortcake is so called be
cause it is Bbort of strawberries,
ITEMS OFIXTEREST.
Napoleon’s “N” on the Seine bridge'
is being chiselled off.
Philadelphia and New York are con*
nected by more telegraph wirea than
any other two cities in the world, the
number being 110.
A bride is reported to bare lately
said : “I told all my friends to bare my
name put on my presents, so that if di
vorced George should not be able to
claim them.”
Sunday dances are coming into vogue
in,England, and many of the clergy ap
prove of lawn tennis and cricket, bat
the “unco gude” still draw the line at
the grog shop and shun the museum.
The Prussian government has ordered
the provincial authorities to send de
tailed information of the extent and
causes of emigration,' which, however,
has somewhat, slackened in some dis
tricts.
The new Tichbome claimant, who al- »
most convinced San Francisco of his
honesty, and told a story of adventures
tilling many columns in the newspapers,
has been identified as C. 0. Ferris, a
swindler. _ ... j ‘
John Momfort married a widow at
Buena Vista, Ga., and on the day after
the wedding undertook to whip his
stepson. The bride seized her husband
and held him fast, while the boy killed
him with a knife. /I
An exhibition of pipes and snuff
boxes at the Crystal Palace, London,
contains numbers of pipes collected by
the EmpCror Maximilian, which were
found in the buried cities of Mexico.
There were smokers thousands of years
before Ealeigh. ~V'. j..
A Cincinnati seamstress grew tired of \
the needle, and hung out a sign ab a
doctor. Hor first patient was a man
who had congestion of the brain, but
she thought it was rheumatism, and
nearly covered him with alum plasters.
The treatment killed him.
A crowd of side showmen, pedlars,
and gamesters follow every circus, and
pay for places ckve by'the main tents.
A soap vendor reiased the customary
tribute to Forepaugh’s menagerie, but
persistently bawled his wares near the
main entrance. Mr. Forej;
•mmm 3MHgRNiBRM>i jAk***::.
fined $24.
Longevity of Animal*.
A German paper states that in Lap
land an eagle was shot and that ‘'around
its neclt it had a brass chain, to which a
little tin box was fastened. The box
contained a slip of paper, on which was
written in Danish, ‘Caught and set free
again in 1792.’ ” The study of the lon
gevity of animals is wanting in accuracy,
but it does seem quite certain that the
span of life of some few of the lower
creatures is much more extended than
that of man. The Hindus believe that
an elephant lives to be 300, and there
seems to be several authentio cases
noted by Europeans of these animals
having arrived at the mature age of 120.
Camels are shorter lived, the ordinary .
breed living forty years. Beeent zoolo
gists state that the swifter race of camels
are even shorter lived. A horse at
twenty is considered an old animal in
deed, but he hasbo^n known to do some
service even when he was thirty-five.
Oxen are short-lived, twenty years be
ing considered as about their limit of
life. Dogs rarely live beyond their
fifteenth year. The stories about fish
must be taken with a great deal of dis
crimination. That of the lives of carp
extending over hundreds of years rests
on very poor authority. It is quite cer
tain that numerous species of fish, espe
cially the salmon, are not long-lived.
When we hear, then, of trout fifty years
old we might think that there were ex
ceptions to the general rules governing
the “Sfilimonidce.” The whale is said to
live up to 500 years,.a certain bone
structure giving a possible clue to his
age, but this does not rest on the beet
authority. As to the birds, certain
kinds do live very long. There area
great many parrots, as well known in'
families as the men or women com
posing them, who have lived fifty years
and over and then been killed by an ac
cident . There seems to be good reason
to believe that a parrot in the south of
France came to Marseilles when he was
full grown during the First Empire,
and is as hale and hearty and garrulous
to-day as when he was contemporaneous
with the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.
A chicken will live from ten to twelve
years. A story some time went the
rounds of a 100-year-old goose. Though
swans of seventy-five years old have
been known, .it is hot likely that geese
outlive them. As to the eagle, he is
known to be long-lived, and sixty, sev
enty and even 100 years may be found
in the books as the limit of his life.
The present bird shot in Lapland, if the
story is to be believed, had been cap
tured ninety-one years before. Ashe
might have been of a certain age when
taken, the account would make ns be
lieve he was 100. A remarkable lon
gevity for an eagle is possible, but, on
the other hand, it is quite certain that
the tin box around this particular bird’s
neck would have rnsted and gone tq
pieces in less than ten yean.