North Carolina Newspapers

Ghalhnm Record. H. A. LONDON, Jr., EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. V 3 dhalf(ain jcoijd. 23--A. THUS OF p Mi TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: oho ! y. ono yo:;r, -MnTiy .six mouths tno i'iy, tlir" mouths, f2. 00 - 1.00 .50 JfdvqrUscmmts. Cheapest Goods & Best Variety t'AN HE FOUND AT LONDON'S CHEAP STORE. Kew Goods EscBiTEd eyery WecS. You can always find what you wish at Lon don's. He keeps everything. Dry Goods, Clothing, Carpeting, Hardware, TSa "Ware, Drugs, Crockery, Confectionery Shoes, Boots, Caps, Hats, Carriage Materials. Sewing Machines,Oils, Putty, Glass, Paints, Nails, Iron, Plows and Plow Castings, Sole, Upptr and Harness Leathers, Saddles, Trunks, 8atchels, Shawls, Blankets, Um brellas, Corsets, Belts, La dies Neck-Ties and Ruffs, Ham burg Edgings, Laces, Furniture, &c. Best Shirts in the Country for SI. Best 5-cent Cigar, Chewing and Smoking Tobacco, 8auff, Salt and Molasses. Mj stock is always complete in every line, and goods always sold at the lowest prices. Special inducements to Cash Buyers. My motto, "A nimble Sixpence is better than a slow Shilling." HT All kinds of produce taken. W. L. LONDON, Pittsboro. EM. Carolina. H.A.LONDON, Jr., Attorney at Law, PITTSBORO', X. C. J5S?Special Attention Paid to Collecting J. J. JACKSON, AT TOR NEY-AT-LAW, PITTSBOKO X. C, HJAU business entrusted to him will re- c-iv prompt a'tentlon. R. H. COWAN. DEALER IN Staple & Fancy Dry Goods, Cloth lng, Hats Boots, Shoes, No tions, Hardware, CROCKERY and. GROCERIES, PITTSBORO'.N. C. NORTH CAROLINA STATE LIFE INSURANCE CO., OS" It VLEKill, . CAB. F. H. CAMERON, Prerident. W. E. ANDERSON, Vice Tre. W. II. HICKS, Sc'y. The only Home Life Insurance Co. in the State. All its fund loaned out AT HOME, and among our own people. We do not Bend Nor Carolina money abroad to build up other Btatea. It is one of the most successful com panies of its age in the United States. Its as sets are amply sufficient. All losses paid promptly. Eight thousaud dollars paid In the last two years to families in Chatham. It will cost a man aged thirty years only five cents a day to insure for one thousand dollars. Apply for further information to H. A. LONDON, Jr., Gen. Agt. PITTSBOKO', N. C. Dr. A. D. MOORE, PITTSB0E0', H. C, Offer hit pfofoajtional rce to tie citizens of Cbuthtim. Vtb an experience of thirty year t. liope to fire entire aatisfaction. JOHN MANNING, Attorney at Law, PITTSBOBO', XT. C, Practice la the Courts of Chatham, Harnett, Moore and Orange, and ta the Supreme and Federal CoarU. O. S. POE, Dealer in Dry Gwis, Groceries & General Merchandise, All kinds of Plows and Castings, Soggy Materials, Fnrnit j re, oto. PITTMBORO', tf. CAR. LARGEST STORE LARGEST STOCK VOL. I. THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE RUSTIC. grave philosopher, whose name To ScythU gave resplendent fame, Iutont his kuowledge to increase, A Journey took through classic Greece, Where, to his profit and delight, lie saw full niauy a novel sight, Towers, temples, people and much more, ( A brave Ulysses did of yore) ; But chiefly he was struck to see A simple man. of low degree. Untaught in philosophic page. But in his life a very sage. Ills farm a little patch of land lie tilled with such a clever baud. It yielded all be cared to spend, ud something more to treat a friend. Approaching where the rustle bow Was clipping at an apple-bough, The Scythian gave a wondering look To see him wield his pruning hook. Here lopping off a withered limb. There reaching high a branch to trim, Correcting nature everywhere. But always with Judicious care. " Sir," said the tourist, "tell me why This wanton waste thatmy eyes meetr Your husbandry seems rather rough; Time's scythe will cut them soon enough."" " aiay," said the sage, "I only dress My apple-trees, and curb excess; Enhancing thus as seems but wise My fruit In sweetness, tale and size!" Returning home the Scythian took Without tit lay his pruning hook, On all his trees the kulfe he tried. And cut and carved on every side; Nor from his murderous work refrained, "Till naught but barren stumps remained! MORAL. This Scythian sage resembles those Who deum their passions are their foes; And who Instead of pruning where Kx-ess requires the owner's care. Cut down the tree that God has made With fierce repression's cruel blade; And thus, for future life, destroy All precious fruit of human Joy! MISERERE. DORK. iuds In wantou circles rolling Bells of heart forever tolling. Hark! Spirits In the dusk seem tapping, Every bosom cord is snapping. Hark ! Drop by drop the rain is falling, Sob by sob each heart is calling. Hark ! Voices in the air sound quaintly. To the soul they whisper faintly, Oh ! for light to know their meaning, Gone lt'fore so near one seeming. Hark ! Light comes quickly 'tis of glory, Dawn of hope no idle story ; O'er us peace and quiet stealing, 'TIs of Heaven, of God, the feeling. Conic, ye mysteries, to us kneeling. Hear, oh hear the soul appealing. Hark ! Dottiest ic Monthly. MABEL WESTON'S CHOICE. In the parlor of a hotel in a fashionable watering-place, in a Northern State, sat a group of ladies discussing a new ar rival. "She must be twenty-four, ''.said one, 4 'and will certainly be married before long; why she has never married before, with her face, figure and fortune, is a puzzle to me; but then gentlemen do not always 6eek those qualities in a wife." "Which ought to be a great comfort to you," said another. "Rest assured that it is Mabel Weston's fault alone that she is not Mrs. Somebody. But fastidious and haughty as she is, she will step out of our way when the right one comes along." The subject of these remarks was in her room, arrayed in a magnificent toilet, awaiting, in a listless sort of way, the summons to dinner. At last she was seated at the table with her Ctmsin Tom at her side. Her entrance had created a sensation ; she recognized the fact intuitively. But the adulation of a crowd was so very com monplace a thing to her, that she cared less to discuss the quality of the praise given than the quality of the viands set before her. "What do you think of the company, Mabel?" said Tom, as he led her out of the dining-hall. 'Oh, one can scarcely tell yet," she an swered. "The men strung out in a row, remined me of lay figures in a tailor's shop. I find the same number of pretty faces at all these places. Tom, if I had not got over my passion for dolls years ago, I might get entrapped by some of yonder creatures before I leave." "You are a bad case, Mabel. I am afraid you will remain Miss Weston all your life." "Better to live as I am than to give my hand without my heart." "You are a queer girl, Mabel, and I don't believe it will pay me to make an impression on you. So, since you don't like our young men, let me introduce to you a friend standing there, nearly old enough to be vour father." "Who is he?" "A widower from Louisville; one of our great steamboat men, with plenty of money, whose name is as familiar as a household word throughout Kentucky and along the Ohio. Shall I present him?" "Do, please." "All right; wait here a moment, and I'll bring him to you." So in another minute Captain Gilmore and Mabel Weston were introduced. Two hours afterward Tom met them strolling slowly through the thickly shadowed walks of a maple grove. She laughing guyly at something the captain was tell ing her, and the flush of pleasure on her face caused Tom to run his hand down in his pockets, and give a low whistle, which with him was the expression of great sur prise. "Captain Gilmore is booked, that's certain," ejaculated Tom, as he looked after them. "The idea of Mabel talking to one man all this time, and then looking as if she was not iu the least tired of him." The captain was, as Tom had said, double the age of Mabel, but the years rested on him so lightly that one would not take hint to be more than thirty-five, He was of medium height, but possessed a more commanding physique and bear ing than many a larger man could boast. He seemed born to command. This sub tle power to control made him feared, and often disliked, by his subordinates, but drew his friends closer to him. lie was fine-looking, and possessed a pecu liar magnetism that exerted itself in a greater or less degree over all that knew him. And now this woman, over whom the breath of many passing love fancies had swept but never touched, began in this first meeting to realize that her senses were being aroused to an interest in this man, and as the days passed on, chance and inclination threw her almost con-1 PITTSBORO', CHATHAM CO., N. C. Btantly in Captain Gilmore's society. It noi long oeiore Ma Del Weston knew that the heart-era vines of a lifetime wer at last satisfied; that from the inmost aeptn oi ner soul welled up the thought that she at last loved. The thrmo-ht to her face a tender, spiritual beauty it had never possessed before. The love of other men had annoyed and worried her, but this man's love, interpreted as yet uuiy turougn nis eyes ana voice, was heaven to her. The weeks passed on. Capt. Gilmore showed the same preference for her society mi ue nau aiways snown, but made no new advances toward her, though he must have stepped, almost imperceptibly, a lit tle way in the path of passion, for he be gan tO miSS her When shfi dirl not nrmmir and he would discover himself watching for her and listening for h And he never felt fatigued or the flight of nine wun ner. mere was an event in his life which he wished he had told her of in their earlier acquaintance; it seemed such an awkward thing to do now; and so the secret troubled him, and made him look oftener at Mabel. She, woman like, noted the change, slight as it was, and was triumphant. She interpreted his new de meanor her own way. "Let us go out in the park," said Mabel, as she came across him one evening on the piazza. "I am so tired of the dancing and music and crowd." "I am glad you called on me to escort you," he said, as he placed a rustic chair under one of the grand old trees, away from the throng of promenaders. "Why?" "Because this is the last evening I will be here, and I want to spend it with you." The moon was shining full on Mabel's face, and revealed to Captain Gilmore that every vestige of color had left it She caught her breath with a quick sigh, as though stricken with a sudden pain. "But but you will return, Captain?" shesaid, in a faltering voice, as she reached forth her hand to him. He took the little hand offered him, which lay cold as ice in his, and an swered: "No, Miss Weston, I must not "re turn." "Is it possible," he thought, "that this haughty, peerless woman cares for me?" And a great temptation came to him which he crashed almost before it became a thought, and hated himself for the transient emotion. There was silence for a moment between them, and then Mabel asked: "Why must you go?" "Because a dear friend, my wife, returns from abroad to-morrow, and I must be at home to meet her." Mabel had not expected this. She had a vague fear that she would hear the name of some one whom he preferred to her, but never that his answer would tell her she had given the great wealth of her love to another woman's husband. "Why have you never told me of this before?" asked Mabel, withdrawing her hand from his. "It is understood here that you are a widower. ' "I did not think that our short acquaint ance called for a recital of mv domestic affairs, Miss Weston. My wife has been abroad so long that only friends about my own home know that I have one. If 1 could have known that you would have been less my friend if I were married, I should most certainly have told you. You will believe this of me, will you not?" She was too thoroughly wretched to up braid him, and the thought came to her, too, that she had nothing to upbraid him for. She had always sought him and he had never in any way committed himself to her. Chagrin and unrequited love caused her to forget her womanliness, and she threw herself in her chair again in a passion of grief. Capt. Gilmore took her hands in his. "I am sorry, Miss Weston, believe me, and curse myself for what I have unwit tingly done. I never dreamed that you, in your youth and beauty, could care for me You will get over this and be happy yet, I hope." "Can 1 put love on and off at will, Capt. Gilmore? No, no! You will leave me, but I shall see vour face, hear vour voice and look into your eyes time and eter nity r "Hush. 'Miss Weston ! for vour own s:ilrn Mabel," he said, as he released her hands, "I am but mortal, and vou cannot, know to what the love of a beautiful woman like you tempts me?" "Do vou love this wife? ' asked Mabel. after a little pause. "My love has been in her keeping for years, Miss Weston; and there lies all my trust and honor." "You are a good husband," faltered Mabel, "and I must honor yon as long as I live. Leave me now; I will return alone." "Good-by, my friend." And the white lips of the girl an swered: "Good-by, Capt. Gilmore." As the man went away, these words, which he had read somewhere, came to him: "No crime, no sin, no fault, no folly, brings so much woe as does the terrible error of irresolution. ' ' Three years passed away. Mabel Weston had traveled far and wide in the mean time, endeavoring to forget the one love passage in her life. She had never heard from Capt. Gilmore, and he became like one dead to her. She had not married yet, and did not think she ever would. She had come home now, and was spending the summer with a friend in southern In diana. "Mabel," said her friend, one day, "there is to be a camp-meeting at Sugar Grove Encampment, on the Ohio, twelve miles below Louisville. We will go for a few days. You were never at one, and it will be something new for you." So the next week found Mabel with her friend on the grounds at Sugar Grove. In all Mabel's wanderings she had never seen any thin g like this. They a rrived at night, just after evening services had com menced. There was an almost oppressive quiet pervading the place and people. It was so different from her ideal of a West ern camp-meeting. There were no un earthly shouts or shrieks, no wild excite ment, no rushing frantically about, but to her surprise, everything seemed to be done decently and in order. The rippling of the waves on the shores of the Ohio on one side of the grounds, the sighing of the wind through the forest of trees wftich lined the hill that towered to almost a mountain's height on the other side, the moonlight struggling through the branches of the trees; the smell of the burning wood from the tents, the fitful glare of the fires which lighted the grounds, the changing shadows of the tents, tne cnirpmg oi tne nignt-birds, the incessant hum of injects, seemed a fitting accompaniment to ine earnest tones of the speaker. And God never seemed so near to her as here. The preacher was the Rev. Mr. M , from Louisville. A man who had given up a career of fame for the cause of i e ligion. As Mabel listened to the eloquence of the speaker, she learned, as she never had before, from whence help must come to meet bravely such a trouble as here had been and was still. It was well that she asked and received in that hour the strength that she needed, for, as she turned to le ave the tent after the sermon, a gentleman who had been seated behind her, held out his hand in greeting. She Jooked up and recognized Capt. Gilmore. They walked together out of Hie crowd in silence. ; "Mabel, I have no wife now," he said, pathetically. "Dead?" Mabel asked. "Yes, over two years ago. And you," he said, looking down into her face; ' I suppose you are married by this time?" "No." "No?" And that was all. They separated here, she to go with her friend, he to return on the boat to the city. They met, only once more during the meeting, and then only enough for him to ask her where she was spending the summer. A week after Mabel's return to her friend's house, Capt, Gilmore visited her. He met her with outstretched hands, and his first words were: "You know why I have come, Ma bel?' J "Not until you tell mc," she replied, quietly. "I have come to ask you to be my wife, Mabel." ' 'Because you pity me?' ' she asked , look ing up into his eyes. "Because I love you." "Then I will be your wife." That was their betrothal. The wedding followed soon after. And to this day neither has had cause to regret Mabel Weston's choice. GHOST STORIES UNVEILED. A LITTLE TATIENCE AN'D COMMON SENSE SOLVES THEM 'ALL. A few years ago I removed into a new and larger house with a young family. Some nights after my removal I was awakened in the middle of the night by a distinct knocking twice or thrice repeated at my bedroom daor. I called out: "Who's there V" There was no reply; but after an interval of a few minutes the knocking was re peated as distinctly as before. Again the same question: "Who's there?" and again no reply; but again came the knocking, if possible more distinct and louder than before, and just as if a person outside in the lobby had struck sharply and repeatedly with his knuckles on the door. I sprang rapidly from the bed on its being repeated, and rushed to the bed room door and opened it, determined to catch the knocker. But there was noone outside; and no one could have escaped down the staircase, which was what is called a well-staircase, bril liantly lighted with a flood of moon light, which streamed through the sky light window. I am not and never was spirit-stiicken or superstitious; but I will confess my sensations now became trying; my heart began to throb, and I returned to bed with ears painfully awake. Again came the knocking, clear and distinct, and methodical as before. Although feeling very uneasy, I crept silently out of bed and stretched myself on the floor with my head on the boards and a few feet from the bedroom door, to find out if possible from what part ot the door the knocking pro ceeded. Again it came as before, and I could distinctly refer it to the lowest part or panel of the door. I suddenly opened the door; but with the same result as before, and again I lay iu my former position. Again came the knocking, three or four distinct taps; and now fixing my eyes steadily on the spot from which the tapping proceeded, I saw the knuckle bone of a leg of lamb, about the size ot a very small walnut, icrked repeatedly against the skirting that lay alongside the door. The skirting was thinner than the sounding-board of a piano; and it was the sudden tai- ping ot the little bone against the sounding-board that produced the re peated knocking. But how was the tapping produced? By a mouse that had found its wray along the hollow space behind the wainscot. It had bored a hole in the very lowest part of the wainscot very nearly on a level with the floor, had found its little bone left after the chil dren's dinner, and had dragged it to the entrance of his hole, but could not get it through. It had dragged through tne tougn bitot smew which is attached to the end of the bone popularly known as the "gentleman's bone" and was trying by jerking it backward to bring the bone itself through; and each jerk gave a blow against the thin sounding board, and each blow gave out the sound or mysterious knock. Had I not discovered this, no reasoning could have convinced me that 1 had not heard knocks at my bed-room door; and I should in all probability have at tributed them to what is termed super natural agency. My next exierieiice was, if possible. more puzzlUg. In the neighborhood of Dublin, on the rocky seacoast of Dalkey, tliere are several castles sup posed to have b.en erected by the Danes for the protection of their traders. They are still in fair preservation, and nave dwelling nouses ot modern con struction built against them. One of these old castles stands on the very verge of the sea, over what was once a rocky inlet but is now a harbor called Bullock harbor, along the opposite side of which is a row of fishermen's cot tages, principally occupied by men who earn their livelihood as pilots. The dwelling house attached to this oM castle, I with my family occupied in summer for health's sake, and to enjoy boating of which I was fond. I ob served sometime after taking up my residence in it that no matter at what time I retired to bed and I generally sat up one or two hours after the other FEBRUARY 13, 1879. members of the family had retired the servants from the kitchen story selected the same moment for their de parture. This unceasing regularity became at last annoying, and I insisted on know ing the cause. The information given to me was that the old castle and house were haunted, and for no inducement would the servants remain after I had ascended from the parlor. I had now reason for thinking there was some ground for the fears. The pantry par ticularly, and the rest of the house with it, were walked over by footsteps at night. These were plainly heard; and there was added an additional aggrava tion, for not content with this, the "su pernatural" visitor began to do mis chief, and generally in the gray of the morning made free with eatables and pots of jam on the shelves, occasionally breaking a glass or plate. To add to this mystery, although the pantry was carefully locked every night, the depredations still continued, and at length the terror of each night's visitation became greater and greater, and various stories began to be circu lated, one being that the visitant was the spirit of a nun condemned to suffer the pangs of hunger for some trans gression. This was supported by the circumstance of the old castle and grounds having been some years before occupied as a convent, The only opening into the pantry was through a ventilator in the roof, very high up, and adjoining one of the lofty walls of the old castle. Through this no human being could obtain an entrance, but it was entered by a mm let, who came to it in this way. One of the pilot boats was taking off a pilot to a ship, to relieve the one on duty, when the monkey, sick I suppose of the sea, and determined not to lose the op portunity, jumped into the boat, and on nearing the shore, jumped out again, and sought the nearest shelter, which happened to be the old castle. The ship was from the West Indies, laden with sugar. The monkey, though missed from the homeward bound, wras unno ticed by the pilot crew, and finding his way from the castle to the ventilator of the adjoining dwelling house pantry, sought to allay his hunger there when all was quiet at night. By day the creature lay hidden in the old castle; and it was only after a lapse ot many days and nights that poor Jacko was discovered peeping out from his lodging in the old Norman keep. It not unfrequently happens that houses are haunted, and kept haunted by certain persons who have a direct in terest in keeping up the silly trick. In the same neighborhood the neighbor hood of the old castle was a house re puted to be haunted, and which has maintained its reputation for more than two summers. Footsteps are heard at night, doors are slammed and on one occasion, jugs of water have been poured upon some members of the family, to their great discomfort. The ghost has been clever, and has not yet been caught; but the solution is not far to find, as the caretaker has a com fortable residence gratis, which is lost when the house is let and occupied for the season. Chamber''s Journal, A DESPERATE N AVAL ENCOUNTER. One of the most desperate naval en gagements on record was that between the English ship Revenge, commanded by Sir Richard Greenville,and the Span ish fleet. Sir Richard Greenville was Vice-Admiral to Lord Thomas How ard, and lay off the Azores with the English squadron in 1591. He was a noted tyrant to his crew a dark, bully ing fellow apparently; and it is related of him that he would chew and swallow wine-glasses, byway of convivial levity, till the blood ran out of his mouth. When the Spanish fleet of 50 sail came within sight of the English, his ship, the Revenge, was the last to weigh anchor, and was so far circumvented by the Spaniards that there were but two courses open either to turn her back upon the enemy or sail through one of his squadrons. The first altern ative Greenville dismissed as dishonor able to himself, his country, and Her Majesty's ship. Accordingly he chose the latter, and steered into the Span ish armament. Several vessels he forced to luff and fall under his lee; until, about three o'clock in the after noon, a great ship of three decks of ordnance took the wind out of his sails, and immediately boarded. Thence forward, and all night long, the Re venge held her own, single-handed, against the Spaniards. As one ship was beaten off another took its place. Mie endured, according to Raleigh's computation, "eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many assaults and entries." By morning the pow der was spent, the pikes all broken, not a stick was standing, "nothing if it overhead either tor flight or de fense;" six feet of water in the hold; almost all the men hurt, and Green ville himself in a dying condition. To bring them to this "pass, a fleet of fifty sail had been mauling them for fifteen hours; the Admiral of the Hulks and the Ascension, of Seville, had both gone dowTi alongside, and two other vessels had taken refuge on shore in a sink ing state. In Hawke's words, they had "taken a great deal of drubbing." The captain and crew thought they had done about enough; but Green ville was not ot this opinion; he gave orders to the master-gunner, whom he knew to be a fellow after his own stamp,' to scuttle the Revenge where she lay. The others, who were not mortally wounded like the Admiral, interfered with some decision, locked the master gunner into his cabin, after having de prived him of his sword, for he mani fested an intention to kill himself if he were not to sink the ship; and sent to the .Spaniards to demand terms. These were granted. The second or third day after, Greenville died of his wounds aboard the Spanish llacr-shin. leaving his contempt upon the "traitors and dogs" who had not chosen to do as he did, and engage fifty vessels, well lound and fully manned, with six in ferior craft ravaged by sickness and short of stores. He at least, he said, had done his duty as he was bound to do, and looked for everlasting fame. NO. 22. A RACE FOR A BRIDE. The following is a very graphic and pleasing account of a wedding race among the Huzarehs, and the devices of the bride to be captured only by the man that she loved: The suitors of the maiden, nine in number, appear in the field, all un armed, but mounted on the best horses they can procure; while the bride her self, on a beautiful Turkoman stallion, surrounded by her relations, anxiously surveys the group of lovers. The conditions of the bridal race were these: The maiden has a certain start given, which she avails herself of to gain a sufficient distance from the crowd to enable her to manage her steed with freedom, so as to assist in his pursuit the suitor whom she pre fers. On a signal from the father, all the horsemen gallop after the fair one, and whichever first succeeds in en circling her waist with his arm, no matter whether disagreeable or to her choice, is entitled to claim her as his wife. After the usual delays incident upon such interesting occasions, the maiden quits the circle of her relations and putting her steed into a hand gallop, darts into the open plain. When satisfied with her position, she turns round to the impatient youths, and stretches out her arms toward them, as if to woo their approach. This is the moment for giving the sig nal to commence the chase, and each of the impatient youths, dashing his pointed heels into his courser's sides, darts like the unhooded hawk in pur suit of .the fugitive dove. The savan nah was extensive, full twelve miles long and three in width, and as the horsemen sped across the plain, the favored lover became soon armarent bv the efforts of the maiden to avoid all others who might approach her. At length, after nearly two hours' racing, the number of pursuers is reduced to four, who are all together, and gra dually gaining on the pursued; with them is the favorite, but alasl his horse suddenly fails in his speed, and as she anxiously turns her head, she perceives with dismay the hapless con dition of her lover; each of the more fortunate leaders, eager with antici pated triumph, bending his head on his horse's mane, shouts at the top of his voice: "I come, my Peri; I am your lover." But she, making a sudden turn, and lashing her horse almost to fury, darts across their path and makes for that part of the chummun, plain, where her lover was vainly en deavoring to goad on his weary steed. The three others instantly check their career, but in the hurry to turn back two of the horses are dashed furiously against each other, so that both steeds and riders roll over on the plain. The maiden laughed, for she well knew she could elude the single horseman, and flew to the point where her lover was. But her only pursuer was rarely mounted and not so easily shaken off; making a last and desperate effort, he dashed alongside the maiden, and stretching out his arm, almost won the unwilling prize; but she, bending her head on her horse's neck, eluded his grasp and wheeled off again. Ere the discomfited horseman could again ap proach her, her lover's arm was around her waist, and amid the shouts of the spectators they turned toward the fort. THE MAHWA TREE. A FOUNTAIN OF FOOD, WINE AXD OIL. Mr. E. Lockwood, who wras for sev eral years a magistrate in Moughyr, India, has described in the Journal of the Linnrean Society the economic uses of the mahwa tree, which he speaks of as "a fountain yielding food, wine and oil" to 'the inhabitants of the country where it grows. This tree (the Bosnia latifolia of botanists) grows in the plains and forests of Bengal, and attains a height of forty to fifty feet, with num erous spreading branches, forming a close, shady, rounded crown. Stand ing on the Kharakpoor hills, 250 miles northwest of Calcutta, a hundred thou sand of the trees are visible in the plains below. They might be mistaken for the mango, but while the mango is uncer tain in its yield, the crop of the mahwa never fails. The part eaten are the flowers, which are sweet-tasting and succulent, and fall in great profusion during March and April. The natives collect these, dry them, and store them as staple articles of food. Each tree yields two or three hundred-weight of the corollas; so that the total yield in the Moughyr district alone, it is esti mated, cannot tall short of 100,000 tons. The nourishment is good, for the San thals, who use it largely, are plump and happy. The mahwa had its share in alleviating the Indian famine, and during the scarcity which prevailed at Behar (1873-4) the crop, which was unusually abundant, kept thousands of poor people from starvation. The flowers are still more useful for feeding cattle; and again the same recommen dation may be advanced, that while the potato, maize and barley are uncertain in their crop, there has never been a season when these corollas have been known to fail. Their keeping powers are excellent; a ton, dried and put into sacks, was exported, and, examined after two years' time, was found to be undamaged. The tree furnishes a hard and strong timber used for carriage wheels, etc. The seeds yield a greenish-yellow oil, used for burniag in lamps, making soap and for culinary purposes. The flowers, in addition to their use as food, are now largely em ployed in the distillation of a strong smelling spirit resembling whisky, and which is consumed in great quantities by the natives. This liquor, when fresh, proves very deleterious to Eu ropeans. The mahwa is considered by the Bheels as essenti .1 to their very existence, and this fact is taken advan tage of by the Government in dealing with refractory tribes; it is only neces sary to threaten the destruction of their mahwa trees to bring them to submis sion. Some of the English papers be lieve that there is a possible commer cial future for the economic products of this tiee, especially for its oil, which is said to be worth $175 per ton in India. ADVERTISING. One square, one insertion. One square, two insertions One square, one month, - - tl.OG - 1.50 2.50 made larger at,vert,seMeiits literal contracts will be fnriqties. The San Francisco Bulletin esti mates that there are 3,000,000 acres of swamp or overflowed lands in Cali fornia. The ex-Empress Eugenie is not in positive destitution, having just sold for $472,300 three of her houses in the Rue de l'Elysee. A convict who was sent to the Michigan State Prison in 1859 for life, is seekine a pardon. He has earned over 12C0 hy working over-time. There is said to be an old Turk. named Pavanovic. livinar at Bihatz. in Crotia, who is 125 years old, and able to carry a sack of 100 pounds of wheat to market. The New Orleans Times has offered $100 as a prize for a poem, written by a oouinerner, which shall record the no ble charitv of the North duriner tha yellow fever. The Kinff of Bavaria is erectinc at Herrenchlemsee a royal chateau, on the plan of Versailles. The building is to be fifteen vears in the course of con struction, and to cost $9,000,000. The King of Greece has bestowed the Gold Cross of the Order of the Sa viour upon Mr. Blanchard Jerrold. "in token of his distinguished labors in the cause of Christianity and freedom in tne Jast." A woman hearing a great deal about "preservme autumn leaves." concluded to put up a few jars of them. She told a neighbor yesterday that she didn't think they would ever be fit to eat, and she might just as well have thrown her sugar away. Vanilla. During the first three- quarters of the current year 40,750 pounds ot vanilla were sent to France alone from the island of Reunion, and a further quantity of 17,250 pounds was received from Mexico, an increase in each case of about 15 per cent, on the figures on thehrst three-quarters of 1877. The total import from all sources was 91,000 pounds, of which over one third was re-exported. Of the twelve marble figures in tended to adorn the base of the dome proper of the new Capitol at Hartford, Conn.,apositiononthe dome tower,ele vated seventy-iive feet above the roof, live or six are already nearly finished. These statues are various symbolical figures, eight feet high,and wnen placed in position will add much to the effect of the dome. They are cut out of blocks of imported marble that weigh about eight tons apiece. Next spring the work of elevating the statues to their positions will begin. American Cigarettes in Paris. America ought to feel highly flat tered at having the honor to introduce any innovation into high-toned society. It is, however, a fact that since the Ex hibition nos mondaines have indulged to an alarming extent in American cigarettes. Countesses and marquises now smoke like those royal ladies who, in old times, went to borrow pipes from the Swiss guards. American cigarettes threaten to become a power ful craze, which will succeed to that of china monsters and Japanese knick knacks. The Continental Gazette, Paris). The electric light is about to be in troduced into two or three London Churches. It is also largely employed at West-gate-on-Sea, upon the exten sive estates of an Englishman who is interested in comparing the relative cost and advantages of electric light and gas. Along the pretty sea-frontage of Westgate are arranged rows of elec tric and gas lamps, the one to illumi nate the broad marine parade and drive, with the tasteful villas and terraces, and the other to light up the ornamen tal gardens and promenades. Notwith standing the semi-opaqe globes absorb ing some sixty per cent, of the brilliant white electric light, the adjacent gas lamps appear in contrast to burn dimly with a smoky, dull, dirtylamber-yellow flame. Habit of Sunt kino. The habit of shirking is a great evil in our land. Sad and bitter are the experiences of multitudes who have lost positions of emolument and trust by shirking du ties and responsibilities devolving upon them. They saw their mistake after it was too late. It is a bad sign to see a young man contracting the habit of shirking. You may set it down at once that sooner or later he will be a drone in the great hive of human in dustry, living without any purpose in life and scorned by all who have wil ling hands, and follow up what they can find to do. Young man, if you want to gain the confidence and esteem of your employer, never shrink from a duty. If overtasked, lay in your com plaints, and you will always get a hearing. If you will begin life a shirk, you may set it down as a fixed fact that the habit will follow you through life, and as a "success you will be an utter failure." Excessive Politeness. The Sax ons are a very polite people, so over polite that they not infrequently bring down ridicule upon themselves. It used to be told in Dresden in Causeur's stu dent days, that a stranger in the city was one day crossing the great bridge that spans the Elbe, and accosted a na tive with a request to be directed to a certain church which he wished to find. "Really, my dear sir," said the Dres dener, bowing low, "I grieve greatly to say it, but 1 cannot tell you. The stranger passed on, a little surprised at this voluble answer to a simple ques tion. He had proceeded but a few rods when he heard hurried footsteps behind him, and turning saw the same man running to catch up with him. In a moment his pursuer was at his side, his breath nearly gone, but enough left to say: "My dear sir, you asked me how you could find the church, and it pained me to have to say that I did not know. Just now I met my brother and asked him, but I grieve to say that he did not know either. Ich emphalz mkh P Boston. Transcript,