Newspapers / Salisbury Globe (Salisbury, N.C.) / July 25, 1889, edition 1 / Page 8
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My Kingdom and My Queen. My kingdom has no dazzling throne, No pjalace grand upon it, r Yet 'tis as bright as e'er -was known, , Or sung in loyal sonnet. 'Mid scenes of wealth and splendor, But this one spot I love the best, "With all its joys so tender; JTo place so dear I've ever seen, For pi ace reigns here and Love is queen. Two subjects in my kingdom dwell; One has an eye of azure, And smiles upon her fair face tell Of pure and perfect pleasure; And one haSihair of raven hue And jeyes of hazel beauty, And whate'erhe may stride to do He always does his duty. And faithful they have ever been To her who is my household queen. And as life yields me newer joy And hope divino and human, . I see one now no more a boy And one almost a woman. The bright days come, the bright days go, And each brings some new pleasure And no spot on the earth I know Is richer with heart-treasure. Nor happier subjects ne'er were seen Than in my home where Love is queen. By no high-sounding royal name Or title they address her, As cheerily, their eyes aflame With love, they kiss and bless her" But with a voice of gentle tone, Which joy gives to each other, . They call her by one name alone, The hallowed name of mother. A name the sweetest known to man Since time and love their course began. Youth's Companion. U I PKOMISE." BY ROSE TERRY COOKE. "Viva. I Viva. ! I must &o f j - - o "You shall not! You shall not. You belong to me!1' The beautiful little creature stamped her tiny foot on the turf,, as she spoke; her eyes flamed with anger, a fiery flush shot up into her dark cheek. "I belonged to. my country before I ever saw you, Viva," answered Tom Creighton, in a sad but steady tone, "j 4 'You shall not go, tljo ! Ah! dear, dear darling Tom, can you leave your little lassie to die of fear? Don't you love me?'' one guuumu. iuu tan icuuw a uuuus close ! to heF; heart and clasped them there with strange passionate strength. Tom stooped and lifted her to hi3 bosom as if she had jae en a tiny child. "I could not love the?, dear, so much Loved I not honor more." he said, slowly, bending his head to her ear. A splendid head it was, crowned with close curls soon to fall before the shears, and its symmetry to be hidden by a forage-cap; and the face did not belie the head; its strong, regular fea tures, its cleft chin, and resolute lips all "gave the world assurance of a man," while the expressive grajeyesreyealQd a possible flasSoTrage. . "Don't talk to me about honor 1" sobbed Viva, hiding her face on his shoulder.. 1 I shall die if you go away from me 1 can't I can't bear it!" There was, no heroism about Genevieve L'Estrange; her French descent had given her inexpressible charms of aspect and manner ; she was as slight as a girl of ten years, and no higher than her over's shoulder, but the contours of her exquisite figure showed the roundness and grace of womanhood, and her piquant, glowing face was .alight with all the fire of an intense feminine nature. There was nothing childish in the red mobile lips, the delicate irregular fea ture?, the brilliant dark eyes that sparkle! or melted according to her flood, the abundant silky ( black hair that fell to her feet when it escaped from the heavy coils that seemed too weighty for the lovely little head they covered. She was spoiled, from her babyhood, being the only child of wealthy parents ; not a wish had the wilful creature ever ' been denied; never had she wanted a luxury, or failed to indulge a caprice ; indeed, it was but a caprice that this very summer had taken her to the "White Mountains before the great hotels were opened, to a small house near the village of Franconia. She wanted to see the spring hlossoms of the North, to gather the ""dawn- pink arbutus ska had so often bought in Broadway, from its lurking-places under .the pine needles of the forest; she had heard of "the shy Linn a; V'. the white winter green, and many another early flower that fades before fashion comes to ex plore its haunts, from a school-friend who lived in northern New Hampshire ; and so, weary of the early terrors of the war looming blackly in the distance, tired from the two years in Europe that fol lowed her school dayv and the long winter of dissipation in the city, she had intimated to her obedient parents her desire to visit Francoaia; and they took her to the Pine Hill House accord ingly. Here she met Tom Creighton;- his father and mother lived on a farm near by and the handsome young lawyer from New York had como up to say good -by to them; for he had enlisted in a volun teer regiment and daily expectel orders to the front. Viva had met him . often in society, and the two opposite natures, in a meas ure counterparts, had teen mutually attracted. Tom Creighton was a typi cal New Englander, strong, obstinate, enduring, with a rigid sense of duty as his dominant trait. He did not entire ly approve of the war, for he Was naturally conservative; but he considered that he ought to go, and go he would. It was a thorough surprise to both the pair, this meeting among the mountains.; and it was the last thing Ton Croighton intended, to fall in jlove "with Miss M'Estrange, much less to let her' know it, but ho could not help himself; with characteristic impetuosity she lost her heart in these solitude!, ; where all the real character of the yemng man showed itself, no 1 ongcr 1 overlaid by the customs of society. She saw how true, how tender, how brave he was, how superior to the society men who had only bored her in New York. ",She had indeed distinquished him even there from a certain superiority of. aspect, but now she knew and loved him and showed it with such naive simplicity that Tom, for all his good resolutions, broke down and fell at her feet, pnly a day had their engagement been made known, when the summons j Tom expected, came. Viva was almost frantic, it, was the' first time in her life that her will had been useless; but nsowit beat against a rock. Tired with the j vain struggle repeated till Tom's . heart ached to, its depths, she atlength recognized that his strength of characterj must dominate hers ; and after a long wild flood of tears and a convulsion of sobs she said at last: "...( If you will go if you must prom ise me to live, to come iback 1" " " ... . m t - ... t 44 Ipromiseto come'backif Ido live, Viva. How can I say I will live? That is the chance of war and the will of God." "Promise, j promise 1" she shrieked. "You must promise me to live I I shall die here; right in your arms, unless you do !'' Her pallid f afcee, her streaming eyes, the sobs that seemed tot rend her slight shape, the piteous curvp of her red lips, took him by storm. The lovely, un reasoning, willful creature, torn by a passion of love and grief all for him, shook his strongoul to its center. What man ever resisted such overwhelming passion, or thought J it foolish when he was its object? Tom Creighton's soul blazed in his eyes as he held that tiny figure closer to his breast. "I promise!" he said, So he went and she stayed. The for tunes of war befell him: i but in battle he seemed to dodge the bullets that rained' about him, manfully as he fought, for he felt Viva's imploring eyes upon him. "Creighton's luck' '. was the jest of the decimated regiment; but no man charged him with! cowardice. The thrill and splendor of this new life had swept off his conservatism ; the war justi fied. its3lf by its dash rejoiced in the clangor f-its trumpets, the roar of its guns, charges; and when the the rush of its miasma of the marshes where he lay encamped defied his will and seared his flesh with fever, when he lay half-conscious for1 many a week in the hospital, the will to live, the intent to keep hi3 1 word to Viva, wmftu thim JIha-MLricaJulIL,tQ- his delirium: "I promise-! I promise!" but those words were his talisman. "When his heart and flesh failed he seemed to see Viva's upturned, woeful face, and he said to himself, "I prom ise," with fresh strength each time; for he had learned faith in himself. At last the war was over; but thoroughly wed ded to a soldier's life, and bscome a proverb among men for courage and quick resource, he wai transferred to the ranks of the rcgularj army, given a furlough of six months,1 and flew at once to Viva. Poor Viva! the war had spared her Tom, but both her parents had died during his absence, an 4. she was qiite alone. To describe theit meeting would be sacrilege; it was eveii as the meeting of those who arise together at the rising of the dead and look at! the dawning of that heaven which they j shall spend to gether. Naturally Tom desired to hasten their marriage, and Viva did not refme; for except a salaried chaperon, she was quite alone in that loneliest of positions, the inmate of a fashionable boarding house. She dicLnot caire to waste her time or her strength cm .an elaborate trosseau; she left all .that to Mrs. Mer win; it seemed to her that she could not exist out of Tom's presence. Yet one day she could not see him; she was ill; sho only saw the doctor, an old man who had watched her from childhood. "Viva," he sail to her, as he drew on his gloves after an hourjat her bedside, and as soon as the nurse, hurriedly called in, had left the room on some needful errand. 'Viva, you must tell Captain Creigh ton." "I will not!" she answered angrily. . "But you must!' "I never will! After all these wretch ed years of waiting, do von think I will throw my life away, DrJ Sands?" "If you do not, I sha' "You won't! you can 1." 't!" "But I shall. It is my duty. If you do not tell him before Saturday this is Tuesday I shall." The doctor's voice was stern, but the nurse came in; he said no more. Next day came Tom startling hews: he was ordered it I once to Fort Stilling; the garrison tbere was needed in a strusnrle with the Indians; fresh ; there wa3 not troops must man the for a day to spare. "Viva, will you go w She sprang up from th me?" the sofa where she lay, pale and sweet after her brief illness; here was her way . of escape from Dr. Sands. - "Yes, indeed, I will, leave me again, Tom!" You shall net So the next morning early, like a pair of eloping lovers, they, were married in the nearest church and took the morning train for the far "West; on and on th rushing wheels bore them; day after day they eadnred the separation of th crowd, till at last they arrived at St. George one winter night in January. The snow was deep, but Tom must report as soon as possible, and Viva would not let -him go alone. "It is too cold, dearest," he said. . "Not with you, Tom." "Forty below zero, Viva!'' "If you can live in it I can. 'I pro mise,' Tom." He could not refuse her after that word with ail its memories,. Rolled in furs, veils, scarfs, with hot brick? at her feet, they set out on their twenty-mile, journey. "Warned not to speak, for the air was not fit for delicate lung3 to ad mit in all its chill, silently they sped along. The glittering fislds of spark ling snow, on which the moon made a long wake of glory, the black shadows, the creak of their., swift runners, the snorting of the horse?, whose nostrils were hung. with icicles, all added a strange terror to the drive a drive that seemed endles3; hut at last it was over. . "Come in!" said Tom, holding out his arm 3, as the driver drew ,up before the officers' quarters, where the light of a fire blazed through the deep-frosted windows; but Viva neither spoke nor moved. . ' : Mad with terror, Tom lifted her from the sleigh and rushed into the door, making his Way by instinct to the fire. Viva stirred not an atom. Hasty hands unrobed her; kind hands laid her on the sofa. Her face was set and white, her lips parted, her eyes glazed. The post surgeon hurried in; he liftei one hand, it fell back; he put a finger on her pulse. ' 'My God ! she is dead !" he said, with a look of dread f ul. pity. Tom dropped beside her; Wlfs it a year? Wa3 it a life -time? "Was he in Heaven when he woke out of that trance? She was there, warm, sweet,rosy. "You made me promise, Tom, I would not die." ' Tom turned on his very face and wept like a very child ; hi3 heaven had come on earth. Poit-surgeons do not know every thing any more than other, men. The fact was that Viva had developed in the last two years a tendency to cata lepsy the result of an over-worn and over-excited nervous system; and when Dr. Sands told her she mu3t tell Tom about it, she had just come out of a se rious attack wherein . she had lain for hours as one dead; but she would ?not tell him, having an idle fear that Tom might ceas3 to love her. The long journey and the cold drive had brought on a severe seizure, and she certainly, in appearance, justified the post-surgeon's opinion;' but before morning she had como back to herself, : a : ' lirious with grief and as unconscious of her presence as she had been of his. "Viva," he said, a few days after they were fairly settled in the new life, "my darling! my wife! think what might' have happened if I had never known about this. Promise me, Viva, hereafter to trust me. Tell me every thing!" She looked up in his troubled, tender face with a divine smile, and softly said over his talisman, "I promise." Neva York Independent. Odd Kinds of Leather. It has been demonstrated that all sorts of skins may be tanned. Beasts, birds, fishes and reptiles have been alike brought to the tan yard, and the prices of their skins are regularly quoted in the price current of - the Shoe and Leather Reporter. Alligator skins" have long been a favorite material for the manu facture of pocketbooks and satchels. The. high price which the first product commanded soon induced manufacturers to produce imitations. These are merely embossed leather. "The peculiar scaly nature of the alligator's hide is success fully imitated by means of steel dies, which leave a durable impression upon the leather, so perfect a resemblance to the genuine alligator skin that only ex perts can tell the difference. The same process is used to imitate'; other fancy skins, so that there is no novelty that is not imitated within three months of its first appearance. The alligator skins were first put on the market in 1876. Kangaroo skins have only been on th market about three years. The skin of the porpoise . has lately been used for shoes, and is well considered because of its fine grain, making it waterproof. It. resembles a goat skin. The skin of the seal has also been made into leather, and sells for about $40 a dozen skins. . One of the latest novelties is rattle snake leather, which is used chiefly for making pocketbooks. The skia of the monkey has alo been tanned and used for making pocketbooks. Bear skins have long been used with the hair on for caps and coats, and the hides have also been used for leather. Of course these novelties are not made in large quantities, and are mostly used for fancy trade. During the past -few years the hides of horses have been successfully tanned and put upon the market as a standard article of leather. American kid is now taking a prom inent place in the leather market, and is even preferred to French kid by many manufacturers, whofiad it quite a soft, pliable and durable, and much cheaper. It is declared that American kid at twenty -five cents a foot is equal to French kid at forty cents. Pig skinj are yet in demand for saddles. , BARK PEELERS. A A Day Among the Woodsmen - of the Catskill. he Work of" the Chopper, Fixers and Spudders. The men were at work some distance up the side of the mountain, which was a spur of great Peakamoose, and I was guided by a man who was taking them some addition to their dinners. The toad ceased altogether, soon after we ieft the shanty, and it was not long be fore even the path disappeared, so that we had to force our way through the thick woods up the steep slope, guided Only by the sounds of chopping and the crash of falling trees which came to ur cars." Most of the men were young fellows, With tall, strong, active framei and frank, honeit face. One or two of them wore red flannel shirts which looked very pictures qua among the grcex trees, and all of them . made so merry over their hard work that the felling of huge tree; and lopping of stout branches lejnedrather play than labor. V 4 "Wetr bark-peelers go into the woods they divide themselves " into, parties - of four or five who work together. Each. jne of these parties contains choppers, fixeM and spudders. The beginning of operations belongs 1 oth first class. The chopper chooses he first good-sized hemlock that is jeen, andit is attacked near the root 1 vith sharp and skilful axe until it tum bles headlong in just the desired direc tion. The fall of one of these trees, es pecially if it be a large - one, is an im pressive ; sight. - The chopper cuts a road opening on one side fully half through the great trunk, yet the tree stands firm and pays no attention to the plows, nor to the heavy chips that con . fjinually fly away from its dark, red heart-wood. Then the chopper goes ground on the other side, and cuts anew ash, a little lower than the first one, since he intends the tree to fall to that i . .... . side. Here, too, he cuts deep in before there are any sign3 of conquest. As the axe begins to touch the center, how ejver, the topmost limb3 are seen to tremble, then to sway, and a cracking Sound follows the repeated blows which warn the poor tree that i its time has come. Then there is a tottering, a lit 1 le leaning toward the weaker side, 'vhich has the lower cui,- and the wood man, keeping his eye upward and his ieet ready to jump, hurls one last pow erful stroke into the overstrained fibers They fly apart with a Joua toward noise, the great "lerpwn C bows the earth, i f7i A? !i J3 3 ains suiter motion as it ae3c liter motion as it uesceuus, anu down upon the weak upon hwood.'" with a noise roar bra whole" battery ce which shakes the earth. fimps t.rA nrrvrk- rf f Via l(fi. fhey leap upon the but of the fallen giant, and, striking at the lowest limbs, frst cut off every branch until all are lopped away to where the trunk grows too narrow to be worth trimming. As fast a3. a little space of the frunk is ?2ared, one'of the men cuts a notch rough the bark -and around the trunk -j-"rings" it, as he would say. Four feet further . on he cut3 another rinsr, and then slits the bark lengthwise from cue ring to the other, on three or four side3 of the tre3. This goe3 on every four feet, a3 fast as the tree is trimmed, i ntil the whole length has been thus "fixed." . Last of all come3 the "spudder," vhosq ddty it is to pry off the great fakes of bark which have been notched and split for him. lie take 3 his name from the tool he uses, which is a sort of s nail, heavy, ' sharped-edged spade, vrith a short handle; perhaps to call it a round blade chisel would describe it more nearly. To pry off the bark in t lis way seem3 very easy, but they told me it was the hardest work of all, and t lat if require I considerably skill to do ii properly. "When the bark has been removed it must be male up into regular piles so. a to be measured, for it is estimated a id sold by the cord. This is hard w ork, for the green and -j aicy bark i3 very heavy and rough to handle. Some- . times a tree will be found so large as to" furnish a1 cord, or even more, alone ; but the average rate of yield i3 '' much les3, so that experts calculate that four trees must be cut down, to obtain a cord of b irk. ". It is, only when the new wood is form ing just underneath, and the cells are soft and full of sap, that the bark can ' bo stripped from the log in large pieces. Peeling, therefore, can be carried on only during May and June. The cords ol bark piled then are left to dry all the si muter and fall, and are hauled out in winter by ox-teams with sleds, when the deep snow makes a smooth track over even so terribly rough a road as tie one I have mentioned. The bark-peelers were a very jolly lot of. fellows, singing and joking as they wrk.ed, and at dinner there was one ince3s;.nt rattle of stories and fun. T.iey pork hard, eat heartily, go to bed as soo4 as it is dark, and rhe at dawn. It is interesting work, but it leaves a ruined forest l)ehind. S--. Xicliolis. Polifiov 6 Look Serious for Elliott jColocJ Elliott F. Shepherd ' of the 7 Express asks: "Can an editor nristian?'' "When it comes to the P01 j that an editor himself has doubts 03 lis matter, thing's berin to look r -o . r serious. comes cry!iing iMwtiafii&Jiess trus juj.u uue wiuiasQ UU it 11 Nowy - "What the Blind Learn. At the recent anniversary exercises of the New York Institution for the Blind at sinth avenue and Thirty-fourth street a class of a dozen blind pupils gave a remarkable exhibition of calis- thenic exercises, in which several hun dred movements were made in concert. with no guide to the memory but mo notonous music. All the pupils but one went through the exercises without mis take. The exception was a little girl who got one movement behind all the time, to the great amusement of the spectators. Of course the child was un conscious of the stir she was creating. One of the teachers saw her dilemma, and started her afresh, and then 6he wrent on keeping time with the others. The incident served to illustrate in a striking manner how difficult is the task of teaching a class of blind pupils to work thus togother. This wonderful training of the mem ory is shown in other departments of in struction. In '-music the pupils' must read with their fingers, and memorize in this way each musical com'position that they play. In basket making they must distinguish the colors of woods by the various degrees of roughness that the ages - impart to the wood. In sewing they must remember what they have sewed. , " - The institution i3 open for visitors every Wednesday -tje morning i3 the best time to go and the 250 inmates may be seen at actual work. The in strumental music, . especially on organ and piano, taught by Superintendent Wait's system of point musical notation, and -the vocal music taught by the same system always are interesting. The in stitution has received at various times very considerable gifts from wealthy families of the city. The institution receives $250 a year from the State for each pupil? It expends about $100, 000 a year, and has about $225, 000 of in vested funds besides extensive buildings and grounds. The course of education comprises a kindergarten, common English educa tion, music, cane seating, mattres3 mak ing, piano tuning, sewing, knitting, fancy needlework, and physical training. No intelligent person can witness tKo proficiency of these blind people with out the reflection that when ihey leave the school they are even better equipped to battle with life and to earn their daily bread, than many pupils who have their eyesight and have received an ordinary common school . education. Origin of O. K. Moses Folsom of Port.Townsend sends the following sketch of the origin of the use of. the letters "O. K." which, he states, was furnished him personally by Jamc3 Parton: While at Nashville in search of mate rial for his history, Mr. Parton found J ii i .l.,,.f l . rtV-liUU General Jackson had been judge a great many legal documents endorsed "O.R." which meant "Order recorded," but often so scrawlingly written that one could easily read it as O. K. . If "Major Dawning" noticed a bundle of papers thus marked upon President Jackson's table, documents, perhaps, from his former court, in which he still had in terest, it is very easy 'tp see how a pun ster could imagine it to be "O. K." or "oil korrcct." No doubt Seba Smith, who wrote un der the nom de plume of "Major Jack Downing," had much to do with creat ing the impression that President Jack son was unlettered and illiterate, where as many existing personal letters, military reports, court opinions and state papers show to the contrary. He lived be Tore the day of stenographers and typewriters, and yet carried on a voluminom correspondence. Hundreds of his personal letters to old soldier friends arc still preserved as heirlooms in tne south, and his handiwork is numerous in Washington. He was evi dently a rapid penman, and made greater use of capital letters than is the present custom, but misspelled words and stumbling sentence were few and far between. Portland Oregonian. Restored to a Home of Wealth. S. B. Sanderson of Joliet, 111., came to Los Angeles, M., a few weeks ago with his family tosettle permanently. He-is wealthy, and five years ago had an only daughter, Estelie, who a 16 eloped with a . handsome brakeman named James -O'Brien. The girl wished to be forgiven, but Sanderson turned . her out. Her husband was soon killed in an accident, and she supported her self as a governess. She recently drifted to L03 Angeles, but lost her position and began to make a personal canvas3 of houses fcr work. She r ing the belK of her father's hous3 without knowing the name of the occupants, and mother and daughter thus met for the first time since the estrangement. The prodigal was welcomed and restored from a hungry, house'esa wanderer to a home of wealth. Chicago Herald. "'- HoTf News Reaches Icelan d. A letter from Reykjavik, Ic2land, in the "Dixdsix National Lideade jnves a lon and picturesque account of the arrivah at Iceland of the frst steamship last spring, the Laura. The Icelanders ex pected a postal steamer in March, but at last gave up all hope of the welcome visitor reaching their shores before April. When they saw the Laura in the distance, early in April, the popula tion was literally wild with delight. An immense crowd of men, women and children gathered together, in order to get new from the "rest of the world." HISTORY OF FLOODS. I The Johnstown Calamity Com pared With Other Disasters. The Previous Great Floods In Europe, Africa arid India. It may not be generally known, but it is true, that the great flood of Johns town in Pennsylvania is the most disas trous, so far as loss of life is bencerned, that has ccc-rred in either 'Europe or America for'neirlyHhree centuries. There have teen floods and floods since the deluge. It has been no un common thing to look for reports of overflow's in the Valley of the Nile, .wi.th great loss of life. Nor do floods in In dia cause any great surprise, for the fre quency with which the Ganges and other rivers of India break theiir bounds is well known. The same is true of the rivers of China, and was once true of those of J5pain,.in the older times the break ing of dike3 in Hollaid carried desolation into many a thousand f ami-' lies. . , . But since James I. sat on the throne of England there has been ho such hor ror known as that caused by the floods in Southwestern Pennsylvania, with the exception of one in - China, although even in our own country the Mississippi and many smaller streams have played very serious pranks with the people who happened to live near their banks. Probably the most disastrous Euro pean flood on record within the last 500 j years was caused by the failure of the dike in Holland in 1530. A general in undation followed and 400,000 persons are said to have been drowned. The greatest following this was the floods in Catalonia in 1617, when 50,000 persons lost their lives. There have, however, been some, big floods during the present century, both in this and in other countries, that were damaging enough in their way. It was but shortly after the opening of the cen tury, in December, 1802, that the river Liffey broke its bounds and did a vast amount of damage in the city of Dub lin; It was even earlier in the same y ear that Lorea, a city in Spain, was destroyed by the bursting of a reservoir, which inundated twenty leagues and drowned more than one thousand per sons.' . j .-; In 1811 the Danube overflowed at a" point near Pesth and swept away twenty-four villages and their inhabitants, and these floods were followed by oth ers almost as disastrous in the summer of 1813, when whole village in Austria Hungary and Poland were swept away, n September of 1813 the Danube rose and swept away a .corps of Turkish troops, 2000 strong, who were encamped on fan island in the river wear Widner. During the same year bOOO men and women were drowned in the- Silesia and 4000 in. Poland. In 1816, in, January, there were several floods at Strabaae, Ireland, caused by the melting of snow on the mountains. In the same year the river Vistula overflowed and destroyed 10,003 head of cattle and 4, 000 houses, beside numerous lives. During 1819 there was a flood in the fen countries in Eng land, when 5,000 acres of land we:e inundated. - In 1830 there were great floods in Wien, and in 1833 came the great overflow in' Cnma, when 1,000 persons were drowned in Canton alone. In 1840 Lyons, Marseille i and other towns in France were partly submerged oy a break in the wbanks of the river Rhone. And so. the list goe3. Here is something like the chronological ordar in which various floods occurred: . 1846. Oreiflow of the river Loire in the west and southwest of France. Damage, $20, 000,000.. The' Loire, rose 20 feet in one night. 1840. May New Orleans flooded by the inundation of the Mississippi. 1852. Floods at Holmfirth in Feb ruary. Overflow of the Rhine and Rhone in September. " City of Hamburg flooded by the Elbe. ' . 1856. Floods in the south of France. 1864. Brad field reservoir, England, burst March 11; 250 persons drowned. .1866. September Great inundations in the south of France. November Great floods in Lancashire, Yorkshire and Derbyshire, England. Mills were carried away, mines were flooded, rail reads -were torn up and many lives were lost. ' 1870, Rome was inundated and many live3 were lost. The King was obliged to relieve the sufferers with moner. ) 1872. In October there were gTeaV floods in Northern Italy and thousands of persons at Mantua, Ferrara and other towns were left homeless. 1874. The banks of the Thames river were swept and many lives were lost. May 16, the reservoir near Northampton, Mass., burst much in the same manner as did tlpt above Johnstown. Mill River Valley wa3 swept by the flood, 144 persons lost their lives. July 24 a waterspout burst at Eureka, Neva! a, and many lives were lost. July 26, 220 persons were drowned in Pittsburg and Allegheny by the rising of the Tivers in Western Pennsylvania. ; 1 1873. By the rising of the river! Garonne in France a portion of Toulouse was destroyed in June and 1000 live were lost. From July until November of the tame year England and Wales suffered from heavy floods. During the same period some 20,000 persons "were left homeless in India by the same causes. The Cliffs. oC the Hereafter, When we scale the highest mountain Of our holiest thought in prayer, Thinner grows the veil between ua And the souls that over lean U3 From the cliffs of the hereafter "Who keep us in closest care. On the cliffs of the hereafter Seraphim in glory throng, And each yearning heavenward tending, Is an angel reascending . That walked with us along, N, For the cliffs of tho hereafter To the Prince of Peae belong. -. " Have you strayed at sunset's hour , By tha anthem-singing sea . Without noting with what power - He creates eternally . Pictures of the hereafter! 'Tis no mirage that ye see! On the cliffs of the hereafter Garments threaded dark with doubty Woven at the loom of living, We'll be utterly without; But thoujh naked He will clothe us In the garb of truth about. . From the cliff 3 of the hereafter Back and forth the angels go, , All unseen.yet seeing ever Valley dwellers here below, Who but sight their radiant raiment When their dreams are white as saow, Augusta Chambers, K. HUMOROUS. High-bred people -Tho bakers.; A figure of speech The talking dow A noose bureauThe matrimonial agency. . Retired to private ljfe Rcluccd tc the ranks. - New wheat never ruined as many men as old rye. Filing saws Pasting old jokes in a scrap-book. A current remark I must make some- jelly this fall. ( , "Don t interrupt mo till I'm done,' was an Irish bull recently perpetrated by an English speaker.' "But, my dear, what has that old man to recommend himself aside from, his riches?" 4 'Heart disease.'' Elsie I am going to marry the apothe cary. Aggie Oh! how ncc. He'll trust us for vinilla cream soda now. Husband (entering) My love the stove smokes! Wife You wouldnt have it chew would you, like you, you. brute? "What's the matter in the sitting room, Tommy?" "Oh, the usual con test between pa and ma over the speaker ship of the house." & The Farmer's Breakfast Breakfast should be cooked quickly and served promptly. Therein lies suc cess in quality. The farmer should build the fire for he can do so and let it have time to heat the stove while hi wife or the cook is dressing. The bill of fare should be simple, wholesome, substantial, and be of arrgnf;!gi prepared, such as any one of the follow ing: - . ' . - Stewed mackerel or whitefish, French fried potatoes, hot corn pone (breakfast bread), coffee or hot milk.- Fried breakfast bacon and boiled . eggs, potatoes stewed in milk, fried icorn mush, coffee. . Fried ham and eggs, oat meal mush, bread and butter, coffee and milk. The bill of fare for breakfast . should in every case be decided upon the" day before, and the material for it iirepared and put at hand, so that no time may be lost in the morning. It is just as easy to grind coffee, slice and prepare meat, and have the vegetables real y to day, as it will be tomorrow, andstrensth and time will be saved in tho "morning It is not the cooking, but tho preparing to cook, which keeps the breakfast late and puts the "lord of the manor" out of patience. When we go to cook wo ought to cook. ' Get a good fire and get everything on the fire at once. Tho meal is then ready to go on the table altogether so that no part of ,it is spoiled by waiting for the rest of it to be cooked. . If breakfast becomes cold waiting for "me lord". to come in and eat it we have nothing to say, and neither has John if he is a gentleman. . If he is a gentleman be will probably remark in such a case, "3Iy dear, I am sorry, &c." Lice Stock Journal. ' Making Wood Fireproof. If this could be cheaply and effectu ally done there are few improvement which would be more largely conducive to the welfare of mankind, rays a writer in the Safety Yalve. The following paragraph, therefore, which hai been lately in circu'ation, may be fa'rly pro nounccl "important if true, and inter esting at aiy rate." I: U stated that a New Englander ha recently discovered a cheap method of dissolving zinc by combining it with hydrogen and producing a solution called zinc wafer. This liquid, if ap plied to certain woods, notably white wood,, makes it absolutely fireproof, and at a low C03t, Mr.' Edward Atkinson, the Boston economist, in fepcak'ng of it at Cornell University, says he regard this discovery as one of the most im portant of the ag2, and one that will surely revolutionize firs ijisuraicc, as well as immensely decrease the losses by fhe. .The invention is kept secret for the present. Only one foreigner, Sir Lyon Pay fair, the . English scientist, knows of it. He corroborates all that is claimed for the invention, and says that the inventor is a bungling chemist, but .that he has a faculty of b'.undering into the choicest secrets of nature's lab oratory. As soon at patents are per fected and capital interested, zinc water will become an article of commerce. V
Salisbury Globe (Salisbury, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
July 25, 1889, edition 1
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