1 - s .
i A 7 v T-i n
R H. COWAN, Editor and Proprietor.
"We Proudly call ours a O-oyetument by the IPeople. Cleveland.
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VOL. VI
WADESBORO, N. C THURSDAY, AUGUST 27; 1885.
NO. 48.
Anson Timus.
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PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
John ID. Pemberton. '
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
WADESBORO, N. C.
Practice in the State and Federa
Court.
, JAMES L LO HART.
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
WADESBORO, N. C.
Practice at all the Courts of the State.
R. LITTLE.
W. L. PARSONS.
LITTLE & PARSONS,
ATTO It I : Y M AT I.AAV,
WADESBORO, N. C.
Collections Promptly Attended to.
II . II. DePew
DENTIST,
WADESBORO, N. C.
Office over G. W. Huntley's Store.
All Work Warranted.
May 14, '85, tf.
SAMUEL T. ASHE,
Attorney at Law,
WADESBORO, N. C.
jgs- Special attention given to the collec
tion of claims.
DR. D. B. FRONTIS,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.
Offers his Professional Services to the citizens
of Wadesboro and surrounding country. Of
fice opposite Bank.
, f .
A. B. Huntley, M. D. J. T. J. Battle, M. D.
Drs. Huntley & Battle,
PHYSICIOHS AND SURGEONS
Wadesboro, N. C.
Office next to Bank. May 7. tf
HOTELS.
YARBROUGH HOUSE,
RALEIGH, N. C.
PRICES REDUCED TO SUIT THE TIMES.
CALL AND SEE US.
XEXOT HOTEL-
.LAMES F. DRAKE, Prop'r.
"Convenient to all the trains.
I. H. HORTON,
JEWELER,
WADESBORO, N. C.
Dealear in Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, Musical
Instruments, Breech and Muzzle Loading
Shot Guns, Pistols, &c.
Anson Institute,
WADESBORO, N. C. -
d. a. McGregor, principal
Assistants. J. J. Bcrjtett, A. B., (Wo
ford College.)
A. HTEller, A. B., (Chapel Hill.)
Miss. M L. McCorkxe, (N. E. Conserva
tory of Music, Boston.)
The next session will begin Monday Au
gust '81st, 1885.
Tcinos In literary Department, $'2, $3
and $4 per month.
Instrumental Music, ft per month.
Vocal Music, $4 per month.
Vocal Music in classes of four $1 per month .
'Board, ------ UO.0O
Contingent fee, $1 per year:
Use of piano for practice 50 cents per month.
For further particulars, address the Prin
cipal -
Morven High. rSchool,
MORVEN, 3. C'
JAMES W. KILGO, A. B., Principal.
X3- The Fall Session begins on the 3d
August 1885, and runs through five months.
TUITION, PER MONTH.
Primary,
Intermediate,
Advanced
$2.00
- 2.50
8.00
Boari froi $8 TO $10 per iont
For further particulars address the Prin
cipal. Ml MOM,
MrwrrAcrrwcR and dealer in
Stoves, Tin-ware, Stet-Iron
AND
HOLLOW WARE.
WADESBORO. N. C.
VALHALLA.
Dust and shadow P Is that all
Eternity may lend to timet
May not life to those who live
Some more cheering promise give
Whisper down at evening chime
Returning day when shadows fall?
"Dost and shadow!" Must we pass
As the breeze which sight and sleeps
Dost rendered unto dust again
Shadows flitting o'er the plain
From the cloud above that sweeps
Between the sunshine and the grass!
"Dust and shadow r Say not so,
Poet with the silver tongue!
Give us better hope than this,
Else are life and song amiss;
Else its brightest scenes among
Life is but our deadliest foe!
"Dost and shadow p Then the wise)
Are as but the poorest fqpls;
ii i Tf w i mum i ii Hi in ! i ii
Hides the coward and the brave,
What avails the lore of schools?
What avails each high emprise?
"Dust and shadowf" Nay, strive on;
From thy task hold not thy hand;
Do the work there i3 to do;
To thyself and God be true,
While life's hour-glass holds the sand.
Though night comes when day is gone!
"Dust and shadow ?n Meat the wrong!
Be a man! Stop not to sigh !
Brave in foremost rank of fight,
Care not that day turns to nght
That the end of life's to die;
Conquer death with purpose strong!
"Dust and shadowf Cowards die
When they yield their faltering breath,
Conquered to return to earth
Soulless even from their birth
Dying in their fear of death.
But for manhood, death's a lie!
Dust and shadow is not man;
Courage high can cross the grave;
Manhood's might though robbed of breath
Overcomes and conquers death!
Eternity i3 for the brave,
Who foremost fight and lead the van.
W. V. Byars. in the Current.
MYSTERY OF EASTHAMPT0N
The time has come when I am at lib
erty to make public one of the strangest
stories ever given to the world a story
10 strange and romantic that if it were
not absolutely true it would be pro
nounced unlikely to the verge of impos
sibility. Its most minute details have
been known to me for more than four
years, but for several reasons it has not
been permitted me until now to narrate
them.
I.
It was April, 1840. forty-five years
ago. It was six years before the Mexi
can war. Where San Francisco, with
its 350,000 inhabitants, now stands, was
then, and for nine years later, the little
Mexican settlement of Yerba Buena,
whither a young man who wrote "Two
Years Before the Mast" went in a Bos
ton ship for hides. Denver, with its
50,000 inhabitants, was founded nine
teen years after.
We "make history" so fast in this
country that forty-five years with us
count for more, indeed, in the world's
progress "than a cycle of Cathay." In
this sleepy corner of Long Island, how
ever, there has been precious little
change for the better, and Easthampton
was a more important place than now in
this month of April aforesaid. It was
perhaps on just such a day as this the
eea as. blue, the air as clear, the sails of
the old windmills as active that a high
bred, dignified gentleman, about fifty
years of age, walked up to the little inn
followed by an attendant.
In a pleasant voice, and with a Scotch
accent, he asked if he couldhave ac
commodations. The landlord looked at
him with a certain hesitation.
"Is that man your servant?" he asked.
"He is," was the reply.
"Well, he must eat at the same table
with you."
"I shail conform to your customs and
regulations," was the smiling answer.
For five long years did this courtly
gentleman sleep in the cramped cham
bers, breakfast, dine, and sup at the
frugal board of this humble hostelry.
Then he became an inmate fortunate
enough he was to find such good friends
of the home of the Huntington family,
and in that substantial house (it is the
fourth from the old Presbyterian church,
going south) he spent twenty-five years
more. He was a man of marked piety and
benevolence, of charming manners and
lddress, of extreme culture, of rare social
qualities. He had been the friend and
issociate of Jeffrey and the literary
giants of his day. lie had ample means,
and remittances camo to him through a
chain of banks, ending in a well-known
New York house, who denied any
knowledge of his personality or belong
ings. He led a blameless, a lovely life, in
this quiet town. He was the friend of
ill, the comforter of the afflicted, the
ielper of the needy. Books and maga
zines in large store came to him. He
versified the Psalms, and taught Latin to
the boys. A blameless and loving life
indeed; but a martyrdom, a living death,
One would, have said, to a man of his
tastes and antecedents. Think of itl He
remained, an exile, in this town' for
ueariy ininy-one years irom early an
his fiftieth to the end of his eighty-first
year. In all this time he never saw the
face of a relative or an old friend.
He went at first on Sundays to
the Episcopal church at Sag Har
bor, seven miles distan but he was in
strumental in the building of the little
one in' Easthampton which we just
passed; he contributed largely to its
support, and he was made a lay reader,
and for a long time conducted the ser
vices himself. With the exception of
this church-going at Sag Harbor, the
only time in thirty-one years that this
remarkable man passed the limits of the
little village was on the occasion of a
single trip to Southampton, twelve miles
distant. The servant, a Scotch valet,
went to the West, and married. He
made his appearance at intervals, evi
dently to extort money from his old
master.
During his entire life in Easthampton
this man successfully defeated all at
tempts to discover "his identity. When
he entered the little inn in April, 1840,
the name be gave was John Wallace ;
John Wallace he was to the end : and
John Wallace is the name which you
will find, under a cross and anchor, on
the plain white marble slab in that south
ern cemetery over which the old wind
mill watches. To the excellent family
with whom he lived, and whose kind
ness to him while on earth and tender
regard for his memory are altogether
lovely, he, waking or sleeping, stalwart
or failing, in the close intimacy of three
aBBBBWBMaBMaBBBBBBBBBaMaBBBBBBaV
decades, gave no word. The inhabitants
of the village, his neighbors and bene
ficiaries, accepted his kindness and con
structed theories about him. With
the perversenesa of poor human
nature, they constructed them to
his detriment. He was a bishop
or the English church "another good
man gone wrong." lie was a murderer.
He wa3 Heaven knows what not ! As
years passed by, and the place was more
and more frequented innmmer by ''city
folks," curiosity spread, and grew'apace.
The most streoous efforts were made to
discover who John Wallace was. One
man bearing an old New York name, and
since dead, had the ill grace to threaten
him. He told biro that the "census mar
shal" wa. coming, and thnt unlets he
told that functionary just who he was,
he would be put in prison. After this
interview the late excellent Dr. Hunting
ton iouna tne poor oia gentleman in
ptHaMu atatb, uuJ'lftafned ox the
just mad
luieai
"Give yourself no concern," said he.
"The 'census marshal' has been here. He
asked your name. I told him, and he
has gone." But on the night of the
30th or 31st of December, 1870, there
came to the door a census marshal who
could not be barred out, a messenger who
brought at onc a summons and a re
lease. Mr. Wallace raised himself from
his peaceful pillow there was not even
time for him, like Colonel Newcome, to
say "Adsum" his head dropped, and
his eighty-first year, his lonely life, and
the year of our Lord 1870 came to an end
together. One can almost fancy that
even in the solemn moment when his soul
left the weary body there may have come
to him a flash of satisfaction that he had
( baffled all the curious, intrusive disturb
ers of his peace. In the expressive lang
uage of Shakespeare, "he died and made
no sign."
Often during his life in the village he
would come from the postolf co holding
a letter in his hand and remark, "This
is from my lady friend in Edinburgh."
When he had passed away, Mrs. Hun
tington, with rare good ta9te and pa
thetic kindness, wrote a letter describ
ing his last moments. She addressed it
to "Mr. Wallace's Ladj Friend, Edin
burgh," and sent it through the chain of
banks through which the old man's
money had come. In due time a reply
arrived cold, formal, unsympathetic
It was signed "Mr. Wallace's Lady
Friend."
II.
"Who was Mr. Wallace?" I see the
question in your eyes. I went to East
hampton in the autumn of 1878, and
did my best to find out. I talked with
Mrs., Huntington and Mrs. Cornelia
Huntington (author of a charming lit
tle monograph . anent Easthampton and
its ways in days gone by, called "Sea
Spray"), and I should count a pilgrim
age fruitful which gave me the pleasure
of their acquaintance. I found them at
the time of my last visit enjoying a
green old age, loved and respected by
all. They told me much of great inter
est about Mr. Wallace, and among other
things they spoke of finding copies of
his accounts (of charities in his native
land) with the headings torn off. One
had been carelessly torn, and on it I
found a name. I sent this name
with a mass of notes to my late
accomplished frignd Robert Macken
zie, Esq., of Dundee, Scotland, author of
"A History of the Nineteenth Century,"
and other interesting works. In a few
weeks he wrote mffthat he was "on the
trail." In a few weeks more he sent me
what he properly called "a very tantaliz
ing letter." Said he, "I know the mys
tery to the very bottom, but I may not
tell you !"
Not a little disappointed, I communi
cated this information to a circle of
equally disappointed friends. One of
them, a distinguished divine, told rao
that "it made his flesh creep like one of
Wilkie Collins' stories." Then I went to
Scotland? No to Colorado, of all places
in the worldk and at the foot of Pike's
Peak, in the summer of 1879, I found
out all about the poor exile. As living
persons are concerned in the manner of
my discovery, I may not rightly publish
the details thereof ; but they are among
the strangest happenings of my life.
Suffice it to say that on my return I held
all the clews, proofs, and facts in my
hands, and that only now am I per
mitted to tell the truth about John Wal
lace. III.
Perhaps some of you know how tfia
tinsruishwi and important a judicial offi
cer is the high sheriff of n great Scotch j
countv. Such distinguished and im- I
portant officer was, 1840, Sheriff W ,
resident in Edinburgh. He was a
bachelor of fifty years of age. He
was famed for his benevolence and
his good works. He was the friend
of the poor, the widow, and the
orphan. His services to the state had
earned him a public testimonial. He
had "honor, love, obedience, troop
of friends." He was a founder and ar
dent supporter of Sunday-schools. Peo-
Ele flocked from cultured Edinburgh
omes to near his weekly addresses to
the children.
One day, at the height of his fame,
there was made against him the subtle
charge of a grave and mysterious crime.
At 6 o'clock ia the evening the lord high
advocate went to a mutual friend.
"Go to Sheriff W- at once," said
he, in sad and measured tones, "and tell
him that when I go to my office at 10
o'clock to-morrow morning a warrant
will i-sue for his arrest."
That night Sheriff W died out of
Scotland. He had just time to say to a
friend" that he was not guilty of more
than an indiscretion, but that he could
not face even the shame of that.
His disappearance is mourned in Edin
burgh after all these long years, and
tears come to the eyes of old friends
when it is mentioned. The man who so
patiently bore the long crucifixion of a
self-imposed exile, the man who endured
the pennance of thirty-one years among
strangers in a strange land, the man who
read the beautiful service in the little
Easthampton church, was no John Wal
lace. Under the white marblo tablet in
the old Easthampton cemetery sleeps tn
scholar, the great jurist, the courtly gen
tleman, the humble Christian Sheriff
W . A. A. Hayes, in Harper ' Maga
zine. There are many kinds of salads, and in
structions for making them are as nu
merous as offers of advice. Tastes vary
as to the condiments to be used; but
there is one cardinal rule, which, if care
fully observed, will insure success. Do
not let the flavor of any one of the con
diments predominate over another. A
salad in which oil, vinegar, pepper and
salt are used without a quarrel can not
fail to be palatable and good.
A Japanese inventor claims to have
made from seaweed a paper transparent
enough to be substituted for window
glass.
HOME LIFE IN THE ORIENT.
ftOW THIS TUSKS ATVXAB TW TKWM
DOMEUTZO S IX ATX0H8.
Odd Furniture and Feature o! lift
la the Hartrnt-A anmeatt t
she Women plajlc Spells
The Turkish house, writes a Constan
tinople correspondent of the San Fran
cisco Chronic'e, is doub'e barreled, so to
speak, to allow for the strict separatiofa
of the sexes. Between the harcmlik, or
women's apartment, and the selamlik;
i a.i 1.1 i-
all visitors and spends his home business
.oulA "
Aires when
uen mo temporary equsuu'joi
. ... . . ... ,
fortable. But the har&nlik
thing. No man enters there except the
owner, or an occasional physician. The
man who meets the wives of a native
friend in Turkey does so in the selamlik,
whither they have been summoned for
the interview. But lady visitors, natire
or foreign, have free acccs3 to the apart
ments of the women, so there is little
difficulty in getting exa;t pictures of
their surroundings and every-day life. The
Turkish house is usually a large, irregular
wooden structure, with a court within
and where the master can afford it a
high-walled garden rambling up a hill
in the rear. This of course is a dwell
ing of a well-to-do man. The poorer
classes live as they can in rooms where
the sexes mingle freely. Indeed, the
poor alone have "homes" in the sense in
which we are accustomed to use the
word, and the poorer they are the more
closely do husband and wile come tc
gether in plans for their mutual support
and enjoyment of life. As the station of
the husband rises, the wife becomes
more and more a luxury" to be enjoyed
by him only when he has no more seri
ous business on hand, until, with the
" sultan, the majority of his harem never
see him more than once or twice during
the whole course of their marital exis
tence. The selamlik is commonly small,
contains few rooms and is usually poor
ly furnished.
Everything a Turk can spare is spent
in beautifying his harem. This is always
large and roomy, with unexpected cor
ners and windows, and commonly a
fountain or two pattering away in the
main rooms. The furniture, in a Eu
ropean sense, is uncommonly scarce, the
only approach to it being the long divans
or sofas that run the four sides of the
room. The walls are usually painted or
.frescoed, and the upholstering is rich
both in color aud in fabric. The floors
are of stone or of polished wood, and are
tempered to the bare feet of the fair in
mates by heavy carpets and rugs. Tables
aud chairs there are none. Everybody is
expected to sit on the floor or a divan,
and all the meals are spread on the same
level. There are two bits of apparatus,
however, that serve to relieve the mo
notony, the invariable embroidery-frame,
and a musical instrument that might
easily be the missing link in the evolution
of the piano. Outdoors the gardens are
perfect masses of beauty, with rare plants
and shady walks, and snug little summer
houses wherever there is a bit of view.
And it is hacdly to be wondered at that
the Turk is so interested in constantly
adding to the attractiveness of his harem.
When he enters it and locks the door be
hind him, he pracrically shuts out every
care and trouble he has in the world.
Wilhin its inclosure he is as near a god
as he can ever hope to be. While there
he never has to back up against a wall
and wait, with a humble face and a chaf
ing spirit, till some bigger man than he
passes by. And if he wants to exer
cise his temper by prodding up a slave
with a club, there is no one to say him
nay. Everything done around hims
projected with the sole idea of his grati
fication and amusement, and there is no
slave in Turkey so rash as to venture on
taking in a business message to him from
the outside world, no matter how press
ing the communication might be.. For
this last is the unwritten law of Tnrkey.
Ail Turks are comparatively early
risers, and generally soon after sunrise
the sleepers commence to stir, and then
the master of the house stretches himself
and sits up and gets ready to make hit
toilet. The women all vie with each
other in brushing up the old man one
bringing rose-water for his beard, an
other towels, another holding a looking
glass for him, and all busy as bees about
getting ready for the morning meal.
This being brought in by slaves, the
master breakfasts in state, no one sitting
in his presence but tne four hanoums,
and no one eating but himself. When
he has finished the women arc served,
and the children come in from theii
apartments for a share in the food. Latei
the slaves consume the remainder, while
those who have breakfasted already in
dulge in coffee and a pipe. Then the
master puts on his street garments and
retires from the harem, and its inmates
are free to follow whatever vocation they j
choose for the remainder of the dajv,
Some settle down to the inevitable
embroidery-frame, and bend their mindi
to the working of fancitul colored
patterns. The bachelor minister has nc
greater embarrassment over the numbei
of slippers he receives from the handt
of his fair parish ners than does the much
married Turk from the plethora of em
broidered vests that grow under thf
fingers of his loving spouses. Othen
among the women spend all day in th
kitchen preparing preserves and pickles
of which all Turks are extremely fond
thinking of new dishes to tickle th
palate of their husband, and scoldins
each other and the 6ervants-r-a pleasur
of which they never tire. Edibles an
left around in convenient places, anc
they lunch at irregular intervals, as th
humor comes to them, no regular ineali
being spread except in the presence o!
the head of the house. In the after
noons many of them go visiting, or t
the public baths. The latest favoriU
finds work on washing day rinsing hei
husband's clothes. This she does witt
her own hands, lest in the prior washjjos
of them the slaves or the women of the
Harem should have cast a spell ovei
them which would, supplant her in hei
husband's affections. "The. mental cxer
cise of looking out for and circumvent
ing of charms and spells is the hardest
brain work that the Turkish woman has.
She is so superstitious and believes iu so
many kinds of magic that she has te
be very spry in order to get around them
all. And if she is not working to keep
off the spells set against her, the proba
bilities are that she is concocting some
charms on her own account that shall
harm a rival. ,
It is a mistaken idea that the Turk is
eedate by nature. IUs gravity ia a
mask worn only in public. When he
comes home at 5 o'clock he relaxes from
wall pierced by a single door, the key o!!?und!nfe I ?, g' ,
Zti i v c . J Dtu6l . - VT J - i Mt dance and make an "evening of
which is only in the pocket of the master ir h Werou8ne8( th,t wKouUi
of the house. The selamlik xs the official u. i , , , , , -,
residence of the Turk. Here h receives f tl.l'll
the fatigue of his dignity and settles
himself for enjoyment. Loose garments
are assumed, and after supper the lamps
are lighted and the dissipation begins.
At least one wife is always selected for
her musical ability and one or two others
tot their dancing qualities. These ac
complishments they exhibit ad libitum,
and music is always forthcoming from
the musical mss'ng link above men
tioned. The temporary favorite com-
l' monly puts in her time shampooing the
oia gentleman s feet a luxury indulged
in by him for hours at a time. Often
wine is handed round, and sherbets in
engaged in whoop-
) . un"v:m-if
About midnight the
3o?iferow8 Quieter and the beds ire laid
..." , . - . . , . -
ik lsaainertni;- j - - -rr:"
WV S 8bOr: lor It II tn Hrst
auiy ucuiauueu u v a i urK in uis neo-
liations for a wife that she does
laoce and never starts in her sleep.
not
Pearls and Diamonds.
A London expert tells me that of old
the world received each year new dia
monds of about $250,000 in value on the
average. Suddenly, from South Africa
comes a new supply, exceeding $20,000,
000 worth each year for ten years. In con
Sequence, the price of diamonds has
steadily fallen from $15 to $3.75 4
carat.
Of course, it is known that when they
go over a comparatively insignificant
number of carats diamonds take a leap
into the thousands. Brazilian diamonds
are very fine stones, but no stones found
there or in the South African diamond
fields are as lustrous and beautiful as the
gems in the gala decorations of East In
j dian princes, and those which have been
obtained in maia during the past cen
tury by conquest or purchase. These
came mainly from the mines of Gol
conda. The ex-Khedive of Egypt, Ismail
Pasha, is said to have the finest collec
tion of diamonds, rubies and emeralds
in the world, aggregating several hun
dred thousand dollars in value. Large
rubies of a lurid, lustrous red, without
a blemish, are scarcer than big diamonds,
and are, consequently, more valuable.
-Queen Isabella, of Spain is said to
have the finest pearls in the world ; and
the unaccountable loss of many of the
most valuable gems in the Spanish crown
jewels set the tongues of Spanish cour
tiers going. King Alfonso, Isabella'!
affectionate son, probably thinks hii
mamma's continued absence a pearl be
yond price. New York Citizen.
The Eccentric King of Bavaria.
Ludwig II., while visiting the Ex.
hi bit ion of 1867, became passionatelj
enamored of the Empress Eueenie,' and,
with the impetuosity of youth he did not
sufficiently hide his sentiments. It i
also said that, in accompanying him t
the station, the empress embraced him,
smiling in the most natural and charm
ing manner, and that since then he has,
like the little urchin in Punch, been try.
ing to rub the salute in, instead of off.
Certain it is that Ludwig has never al
lowed the lips of another woman te
brush the place, "because it was sore.'
The only one who ever tried had a duck
ing for her reward. It was the actrest
who created the role of Iseuit. The king
invited her to take a turn in his boat,
and made her repeat her great aria. Be
coming too enthusiastic, she was about
to fling herself into the royal arms.
Their owner merely chucked her into thf
stream, and left her to get out as bes'
she could. It should be added that sh
was dark and not comely.
All this and much more is related witt
bated breath at Munich. The inbabi
tpnts of the capital regard the eovereigi
With a kind of awe; the upper classef
look upon him as a poet trying to real
ize the fancies of his own and others
brains; the humbler look upon him as i
lupernatural being. London Globe.
Signs or Rain.
The following signs of rain were givei
by Dr. Jenneh in 1810, to a lady, in re
ply to her inquiry whether it would rail
to-morrow: I
The hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the glass is low;
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
And spiders from their cobwebs creep;
Last night the sun went pale to bed,
The moon in halves hid her head;
The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,
For see, a rainbow spans the sky ;
The walls are damp, the ditches smell,
. Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel;
The squalid toads at dusk were seen
Slowly crawling o'er the green;
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry,
The distant hills are looking nigh ;
Hark! how the chairs and tables crack 1
Old Betty's joints are on the rack;
And see yon rooks, how odd their flight,
They imitate the gliding kite
Or seem precipitate to fall
As if they felt the piercing ball ;
How restless are the snorting swine 1
The busy flies disturb the kine:
Low o'er the grass the swallow wings;
The cricket, too, how loud she Eings!
Puss on th9 hearth, with velvet paws,
Fits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws:
'Twill surely rain, I see with sorrow,
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.
"The Stirrup Cup."
A "stirrup-cup" was that offered to
give impetus to the morning's ride in
the olden days. To the brave knight al
ready mounted, and about prancing
away on his chivalrous travels, was sent
a bowl, full and strong, from the gener
ous host, wherewith to "speed the part
ing guest."
A cup in the morning,
Just brewed in the dawning,
All mortal touch scorning,
I bring with a wilL
'Tis flavored with fleetness,
et rich with sweetness
Of Heaven's completeness,
Oh, drink, drink thy fill!
Taste with thine eyes of its beauty and light,
Bip with thine ears all its sounds of delight,
Quaff with thy heart every fine sense that
thrills.
Feast with thy soul on the strength ot the
hills.
Let all powers of thy being close bend to the
cup.
Oh, drink, drink it upl
Portldnd Transcript
Five years ago a remarkably bright
and pretty girl of seventeen worked in a
San Francisco laundry. The 6on of
wealthy parents fell in love with her.
She returned his passion, but said that
she would not marry him, as he wished,
because she was uneducated and coarse.
Then he offered to send her away to
school. She accepted this offer. During
the ensuing four years she was in n Mon
treal convent, very apt and studious.
The training wrought all the change
that was desirable, and the wedding took
place, with a long tour in Europe after
ward. The couple returned to San Fran
cisco lately. To. Bhow that she had nei
ther forgotten nor was ashamed of her
former employment, the bride gave a
grand supper to those of her old com
panions who could be brought together.
SELECT SIFTtNttS.
The potato, introduced into England
td 4600 was first eaten as a sweetmeat,
tewed in sack-wine and sugar.
A mushroom near Ventor, England,
measured over eleven inches in diameter.
When cooked it wasv palatable and filled
a large breakfast dish.
Young chicks come into the world
with the yolk df the egg stored away for
their Immediate nourishment, and there
fore they need no feed fat twelve or
twenty-four hours.
J. A. Camp, of Atlanta, Ga. , says he
. ..ui. : : v j . iL.i
has cabbage growing in his garden that
are eight feet in circumference and that
a cabbage wei?hincr sixteen nounds is a
common thine among his vegetables.
; gi. CubaT.' 7 M five cent' a
letter, emblems al s "V in . vogue
mere a a&tto ot paint across tne letter
ing of a woided sign, resulting in an
Obliteration that exempts it from the
tax, but which leaves the sign decipher
able.
i
j A peculiar custom in the Cape Verde
i islands is noted by a recent visitor there.
, His hostess was smoking a cigarette,
when suddenly she drew it from her lips
and offered it to him. Though some
. what startled, he accepted it with the
j best grace that ho could command, and
upon subsequent inquiry found that it
was cdnsidered among the islanders one
of the g. eatest compliments a lady could
pay to a gentleman.
i Paris is cleared of rats by her municl
! pal council offering a premium for their
: skins. Two years ago the premium was
I $3 per 1,000, but it has recently been
j raised to $10 per $1,000, in order to get
I the city rid of the pests. The rats are
of the Norway kind, and breed four
times a year. The skins when collected
are sold to glove makers for four cents
each, and 20,000 skins are said to have
been made into "genuine kid" gloves
last year.
The use of artificial teeth is not so
modern as is generally believed. "Cos
mos" states that in the museum of
Corneto, on the coast of Italy, there arc
two curious specimens of artificial teeth
found in Etruscan tombs, probably dating
to four or five centuries before our era.
These graves contained the bodies of two
young girls. On the jaw of one are still
two incisors fixed to their neighbors by
small gold rings; in the other the rings
remained, but the artificial teeth had
fallen out. The teeth had evidently been
taken from the mouth of some largo
animal.
How Artificial Teeth may do Damage.
Another agent in the combination to
maintain for the man of advancing age
his career of flesh eater is the dentist.
Nothing is more common at this period
of life than to hear complaints of indi
gestion experienced, so it is affirmed, be
cause mastication is imperfectly per
formed for want of teeth. The dentist
deftly repairs the defective implements,
and the important function of chewing
the food can be henceforth per
formed with comfort. But, without
any intention to justify a doctrine of final
causes, I would point out the significant
fact that that the disappearance of the
masticating powers is mostly coincident
with the period of life when that species
of food which most requires their action.
viz., Bolid animal fiber is little, if at
all, required by the individual. It is
during the latter third of his career that
the softer and lighter foods, such as well
cooked cereals, some light mixed animal
and vegetable soups,' and also fish, for
which teeth are barely necessary, are par
ticularly valuable and appropriate. And
the man with imperfect teeth who con
forms to nature's demand for a mild, non
stimulating dietary in advanced years
will mostly be blessed with a better di
gestion and sounder health than the ma9
who, thanks to his artificial machinery,
can eat and docs eat as much flesh in
Suantity and variety as he did in the
ays of his youth. Far be it for me to
undervalue the truly artistic achievements
of a clever and experienced dental sur
geon, or the comfort which he affords.
By all means let us have recourse to his'
aid when our natural teeth fail, for the
purpose of vocal articulation, to say
nothing of their relation to personal ap
pearance; on such grounds the artificial
substitutes rank among the necessaries
of life in a civilized community. Only
let it be understood that he chief end
of teeth, so far as mastication is con
cerned, has in advancin2 age been to a
great extent accomplished, and that they
are now mainly useful for the purposes
just named. But I cannot help adding
that there are some grounds for the be
lief that those who have throughout life
from their earliest years consumed little
or no flesh, but have lived on a diet
chiefly or wholly vegetarian, will be
foiind to have preserved their teeth
longer than those who have always made
flesh a prominent part of their dailv
food. Popular Science Monthly.
Color-Bliuduess.
A writer in the Journal of Science
treating of color-blindness, gives the fol
lowing interesting examp es from his
own experience: A man may have a
good eye for form and outline, and yet
be partially or wholly color-blind. To
select an instance from among many is
difficult, but one impresses me more than
the rest, that of Wyatt, the sculptor, who
at the outset of his career was known as
a remarkably good draughtsman. He
naturally took to painting, but, as his
pictures were observed to present curiou?
incongruities of color, that involved him
in grievous difficulties, he with much re
luctance was obliged to abandon the
brush for the chisel. He was altogether
unable to comprehend the nature of his
defect; indeed, refused to believe that
he was color-blind. So of men who have
attained to eminence in the world of let
ters, and whose writings unmistakably be
tray evidence of a meager color vocabu
lary. A striking example of this occur
red in the person of my friend, the late
lamented Angus B. Reach. He was un
able to recognize a difference in color
between the leaf, the flower, and the
fruit of plants and trees. His want of
perception of color was wholly unknown
to and unrecognized by himself, until
we sat together at the table of a Paris
restaurant. He requested the waiter to
bring him some ink. As it often hap
pens under similar circumstances, the
.ink was brought in a wine glass. Reach
became absorbed in his subject, while I,
seated opposite to him, observed him
alternately dipping his pen into his
claret glass and into the ink glass. Pres
ently, to my surprise, he took up the
ink glass, and was about to drink, when
I remonstrated, and he then said he
could see no difference between the
color of the, ink and the wine. On sub
sequently .testing him I discovered that
be was completely color blind.
A Summer Resort on the Boor.
Many a child in New York who never
enjoys the luxury of a "bucket and pail"
on the sand of the beach, and never goes
Into the country, yet has a summer re
sort. It is on the roof of a tenement
hoase. So. soon as the sun has fairly
gone down, the children run in from the
street and climb up six, seven, or eight
flights of stain for a merry hour or two
where they feel the breezes that cannot
enter the rooms and are never felt in the
streets. It is n interesting sight to see
roof which covers a whole block, and
is two acres in extent, turned into the
i play-eround or the resting-place-of the '
' I i j t .. .1 L : I
hundreds of men. women and children
who live under it. The men leave their
coats anT7ats, and many of them their
shoes, at bjme, and the women take ,
their sewing jr their knitting needles
and go abroad on the roof, for it is Ger- j
rnay, or Italy, or England, for each one
mg as the , f resn air recalls ms oi I
er native landT It isTiotr IfcwpxMrt wi-t
Long Branch, for they know nothing of j
these. But it gives the essential bless- :
ings of the seaside resort coolness, a
chance for gossip, and magnificent views, j
The men discuss "bushies." with even
more spirit than at the fashionable
resort, smoke their pipes with greater
freedom, and take even as great liberties
with propriety to get into comfortable at
titudes. The women use what time the
care of their little charges allows them
to discuss with one neighbor the follies
of another in the presence of the whole
neighborhood, and the children make a
playground ofwhat space is let them by I
the groups of men and women. After
the lamps are lighted, it is a fine view
that is commanded from the roof of a
high tenement house long rows of street
lamps, the e.ectnc lights at Hell Ofttc,
on the bridge, and in the squares, and
the moving lights down the bay. When
a solid block of tenement houses affdrds
such a relief on the roof from the nec
essary disadvantages of summer resi
dence in them, even their largeness and
Eeight, which are the causes of dark
rooms and dangerous construction,
become their chief advantages as sum
mer resorts. The fashion of spending
the evening on the roof becomes more
feneral every year in New York, and
ouses are now constructed with special
reference to such use. Good stairways
are built to the doors, which open on the
housetop, railings are put around to
make it a safer . playground, and seat9
are put up which remain there all sum
mer. Harper's Weekly. .
The Legend oT E-yer-sliaw.
About ten miles below St. Paul, on the
left bank of the Mississippi river, lies a
6tone on the margin of a flowering prairie,
that for decades has been looked upon
by the Sioux with the deepest reverence
and awe, and which bears the marks of
the sacrilegious curiosity seeker's soul-
i less chisel. In the language of the Sioux
! it is known as E-yer shaw, or Red Rock.
: It is not of gigantic proportions, weigh
ing hardly more than a tou, and in form
looks like a monstrous egg that might
have been deposited there by some fab
ulous bird. Broad stripes of red paint
encircle the boulder, being frequently
retouched by the half -civilized yet super
stitious remnants of this once mighty
people, who still live in the vicinity-of
this spot so sacred to them. Away back
in the years that have gone, when this
ground was held djfiantly against the
avaricious encroachments of the Chip
pew as by the determined Sioux, at
the close of a summer's day and
on the eve of a great battle
between the contending tribes, the
rock is eaid to have walked down
from Zion Hill, a smalr mountain that
lifts its front from the northern skirt of
the prairie, and rested where it now
lies. Ka be-bou ik-ka, the storm spirit
of the Chippewas, became so enraged
that he sent forth fiery arrows of light
ning agaiust the rock and thundered
forth his ungovernable rage, but the
rock defied the powers of the Chippewa
god, and remained intact, and in the
midst of the terrific battle of the ele
ments the Indians fought, and the dis
heartened Chippewas were driven
across the river and defeated. From
the time until the advancing hosts of
civilization drove them from the grcund
the Sioux each year brought gifts of
fruit, moccasins, and blankets to the
rock, and offered them at a sacrifice to
the Great Spirit who kad given them so
Bignal a victory over their enemies. The
superstitions of the Indians was a
Bource of considerable profit for 'many
years to an enterprising negro who lived
in that vicinity. He quietly purloined
the articles from the rock and sold them
back to the Indians at a good advance
on the original cost. He became so bold
in his thieving that he was at last
caught in the act and his woolly skull
cut open with a tomahawk and his body
thrown into the river.' (JKha'jo Herald.
Bntter by Lightning:.
The London SporUman says: "Mak
ing butter by lightning is the latest craze
of the electricians. The patent taken
out for this process is very simple. A
pair of electrodes are placed in a large
vessel of milk and a current runs through.
Directly the milk feels the force of the
electricity, and it undergoes a curious
change. Little bslls of butter form up
on the electrodes and subsequently de
tach themselves and float to the top. The
butter is then collected, placed in a
kneading machine.'and worked up into
the "best Dossit" as fast as the operator
can turn the handle. The process is
much quicker than the old-fashioned
method of churning. . The only
drawback to the butter so made is that
it will not stand the ordeal of a thunder
storm. During the prevalence of any
severe atmospheric disturbance the rolls
of butter stand on end, give out sparks,
and often leap about the place. Curi
ously enough, this does not spoil the
butter, but it is found to be unpleasant
at the breakfast or tea table. Cheese
can be made by a similar process. It is
now proposed, in order to save time, to
apply an electric milker to the cow. This
will sort the butter and cheese as the
milk leaves the teat. The quality of
the cheese is determined by the food
given to the cow and the strength of the
current. The most powerful currents
are required to produce Gorgonzola or
Limburger cheese, but it is not safe to
make much of the latter kind, because
the cow is always greatly exhausted
afterward."
The supervising mechanic of the Wash
ington monument says that he has given
away at least five 'tons of chips of marble
to eager relic-seekers, and that the de
mand is now greater thatkever. Persons
as yet unsupplied may take heart from
the assurance that at least three tons of
chips remain about the base of the tall
shaft. fc
It has been decided to build an undo
ground metropolitan railway in Pari.
If WIFE ASD I.
Com and drain a cup of joy.
Now with ra, good wifa.
And bring the girl and boy
Now with thy, good wife.
Lfc all heart ho blithe and gay.
It is fourWii years to-day
Since you spoke the little "ayV
That to me was life.
When in wedding white arrayed
I beheld you sUnd,
Why. I almost felt afraid
E'en to touch your hand.
And when with love intent
Your gar on me you bent,
You sermed a bring sent
From the "Better I.and."
And an angel you have proved'
Bine that good glad hour,
Aye, wherever we have rovod
In sunshine and shower
In all goodness you transcend,
-And ail 'excellences blend " - - -
In the mother, wife, and friend,
As a sacred dower.
Yon have mado my life more pure,
Than it might have Iwn;
You have taught me to endure,
And to strive and win.
With your simp! gong of praiv
You sanctify our days,
And our thoughts to heaven you rai
From a world of iu.
Colue, let's ijuit the dusty town
With it noioo and strife.
And seek the breezy down
That with health is rife.
Work is good and so is play.
Let us keepotir wedding-day
O'er the hills and far away,
Happy man and wifo.
John Geo. H'uff., in Cussrll'.i Maga im
HUM OK OF THE DAY.
A cow's horn-
-A milk punch.
Ino man can
look ..graceful.
carry a feather bed
and
The girl who loves William never asks
, her father to foot her bill. Cull.
A cyclone is like a waiter. It carries
everything before it. Xftc York News.
Foot notes The patter of the mule's
hind lcs on the hired man's ribs.
Graphic.
Speech is certainly silver at the tele
graph oflico. Ten words for a quarter.
ifomerrille Journal.
When a woman wants to make a com
plete change of front she leaves oil her
bangs. Burlington Free 1'nan.
Any man who can umpire a baseball
game and please both sides, has in him
the main qualifications' of a successful
politician. Picayune. ,
A school journal advises, ".Make the
school interesting." That's what the
small boy tries to do to the best of his
' ability. Burlington Free Pre.
"What do you suppose I'll. look like
when I get out of this?" snapped a
young lady at a conductor of an over
crowded streetcar. "A Qpod deal like
crushed sugar, miss," said the bell
' ringer. And the young lady hung on
the strap and rode four miles further
with the smile of annngel. Buffalo Ez-
press.
She was literary, and she wished to
turn the conversation in that direction,
because the languid swell with whom
she was speaking was uttering all sorts
of nonsense. And so she said, gushingly:
"I do hope you liko Lamb?" To which
he responded: "Vaas! A little! So
! dooccd insipid, though!" "What?
Lamb insipid!'' "Well yaas! unless
it's the real spring article, you know, and
the mint sauce is perfect." And now
she sedulously avoids him. Boston Ga
tettt. A waiter's bringing dinner
On the- run ; '
He h a reckless sinner.
Full of fun;
He hurried down 1 1 1 tii.sle
With a seraphic sinilo
A beaming hII the wliiln
Like the sun.
A footstool is Imfoifl him,
Does he see?
He-trips the dinner s o'er him.
Where is he?
Tomato daulm his hair,
Iieef gravy fills t lie air, (
And ho lies sprawling thorn
ILelplobsly. i
I'kihdeliihia .Xews.
An Indian Camp.
The following extract is from a letter
lo the Chicago llerahL: The ride through
he Cheyenne encampment to-day was
! p.iite interesting. The tepees were
pitched about a mile back of the agency
building, in a low bottom, aud an effort,
not altogether successful, had been made
to 'get them in a huge 8emi-circle. There
were perhaps 2, COO Indians, 1,000 ponies
, and 10,000 dogs. Many of the Indians
1 had wagons, cooking utensils, and I uo-
ticed one or two of the tepees had bed
steads had mattresses; The vast ma
jority, however, kept house in aboriginal
! simplicity. Every tepee had its ridge
pole outside hung with stripped beef
' and entrails from yesterday's rations dry:
ing in the sun. One family I passed had
j a fire burning in front, and over this 1
the squaws were roasting a dead dog
ugh! A few rods further on a enako
1 which had crawled into camp was having
its brains beaten out by an old-. squaw.
"That will be in the pot in an hour,"
! was the remark of our eifle. The long
i strings of entrails and other animal refuse
' drying in the sun were not appetizing,
and we tried to avoid looking at them.
, The constant" handshaking which the
' braves thrust upon the party was also
! feomething of a nuisance, and it. was a
i relief to get away from it. The camp
I was a busy ecene when Inspector Arm
i strong arrived. The Indians crowded
1 around in their gaudy blankets, the
ponies jostled each other in the midst of
the tepees, the dogs kept up a ecntinu- .
I ous howling, and the chiefs and sub-chiefs
I harangued little knots of people in deep
sing-song tones. Out of such chaos no
order could be brought, and after filling
; the air with profanity for a few moments,
the inspector retired with a promise .to
i come another day.
The otnatemalan Sunday.
Sunday is observed in Guatemala mor
than in anv other Spanish American city
we have visited. Usually, in all thesi
countries Sunday is the great market daj
of the week, when all the denizens ol
the country dress in their best suits tc
come to tewn to trade and have a little
recreation; but in Guatemala there is, a
law, whicn is respected and generallj
enforced, requiring the market and ali
other places of business to remain closed
on Sunday. Somet mes a cigar shop ol
a saloon will be found open, and th
hotels, barrooms or "cantines," as thej
are called, do more business than on am
other day, but there is no more general
business done here on Sunday than in th
cities of the United States. Philadelphii
Pres.
v
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