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OLD SERIES—VOL. VI. NO. 8.
CEDARTOWN, GA., MAY 8, 1879.
NEW SERIES-VOL. I. NO. 21.
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A MOTHER’S REVERT.
They tell me to be happy.
With all these things to do—
With Jimmie’s little pants to mend.
And Maurice dresses, too.
While dinner waits for sorring ;
Soon will the darliugs come.
With appetites all ehaipeued so
\Vjien they arr.re at home.
Then Will dislikes to see me
Iu this old dress so grey ;
He told me so this morning twice
Befoie he wtnt away.
He said the blush ha l faded
From off my cheek so fair.
But ten years have departed since
The roses Jiugere 1 there.
He knows not of my troubles
At morning, noon, and night—
He wouders why my eyes so sad
Hava lost their old Jove light.
Dear Will, it is the children,
That vex their mother so :
We’ll wait until they hate crown np,
Then th ugs will change yon know.
Ten years have passed—the children.
Sleep in the silent tomb ;
While everything around me seems
Like mockery and gloom.
Oh. I should be so happy.
With twice as much to do ;
If only but the children were
Arouad to vox me too.
What Carl Brought his Mother-
“What shall I bring you from town to
day, mother ?”
Mrs. Bradley looked at the bright, cheery
face of the speaker, a lad not more than
fourteen, but unusually tall and well devel
oped for his years.
“I don’t know that we need anything,
do we, Carl ( That is, anything we can do
without, you know.”
Here Mrs. Bradley paused, as if unw il
ling to sadden that brave, hopeful spirit by
alluding to the burden that weighed so
heavily upon her heart. .
“Yes, I know, mother. But I know,
too, that this is your birthday ; and that the
best mother and prettiest little woman in
the world deserves a present of some kind,
bo what shall it he ?”
Mrs. Bradley blushed and smiled like a
girl in her teens. She lmd not only been
remarkably pretty in her youth, hut was so
still; looking altogether too young to he the
mother of a hoy its old as Carl.
“You won’t always think so, I’m afraid!
Bring yourself safely hack to me, together
with all the money you can get for the fruit
and vegetables, and that will be all the
present 1 shall want. I hope they will sell
well, because ”
“They ought to sell well,” said Carl, fill
ing up the wistful pause that followed, and
looking with pride and satisfaction upon the
contents of the neat market wagon, and
which were, mainly, the result of his own
skill and industry.
The display was both varied and tempt
ing. There were green peas and corn ;
fresh, crisp lettuce and celery ; hunches of
radishes, beets and turnips. All ol tnem
arranged with so much care and nicety as
to greatly enhance their attractiveness and
value.
The fruit consisted of early pears and
apples, whose mellow fragrance filled the
air, together with the cherries and currants,
which gleamed forth redly and temptingly
from out the green leaves that shaded them.
“Never fear, mother, laughed Carl as he
gathered up the reigns ; “I could dispose of
twice the amount, if they were all like this. ”
Leaning over the rustic gate, Mrs. Brad
ley gazed after the retreating wagon, aglow
of maternal pride ami tenderness upon the
fair, sweet face, which gave it a new and
wondrous beauty.
“Carl is a real treasure, a great comfort
to me,” she thougnt. “lie is like his
father. ”
Then a feeling of compunction touched
her heart, as she thought how little love she
had given to the grave, quiet man of nearly
twice her years, who lmd been to her so
kind a friend and protector, mingled with
an emotion of thankfulness that he lmd
never known it. that the wifely duty, the
grateful affection, which were all she lmd
to bestow, had been so much to him that
he had blest her for them with his dying
breatlL
But for that fatal quarrel, and still more
fatal misunderstanding, how different her
life had been! But God had been very
good to her, especially in giving her so good
and hopeful a son. And if, by their united
efforts, they could save their little home,
she would he content.
It was always a long and lonely day to
his mother when Carl was away, lie was
so strong and patient, so merry and cheer
ful, that all the sunshine seemed to vanish
from the house when lie left.
Mrs. Bradley had l>een more like a child
to her husband than a wife, by whom she
had been considered as something to be
carefully guarded from toil and hardship ;
and Carl had fallen into very much the same
way of treating her. It was amusing to see
the protecting air he assumed, by virtue of
his sex and superior size and strength.
He liked to have his mother in the garden
with him, but more for the sake of her so
ciety than work. If she attempted any
thing harder than sorting or arranging the
fruit and vegetables, he would say :
“That's too hard work for you, mother:
rildoit!”
Speaking so like his father as sometimes
to almost startle her.
In spite of the substantial lunch put up
for him, Carl always returned—to use Ins
own expression—“as hungry as a hear!”
So the sun had hardly touched the western
hills when -Mrs. Bradley commenced pre
parations for supper.
The snowy cloth was laid upon the round
table, and the plates, knives and forks, and
shining tea-service arranged on it with as
much care and precision as if she had been
expecting some guests of distinction.
In front of Carl's plate was a platter of
cold meat and vegetables, which she knew
by experience would receive his first atten
tion. Marshaled around this were loaves
of white and brown bread, a plate of honey,
and dishes of currants and raspberries.
Everything was in readiness except the
tea, which >lrs. Bradley left for the last
moment, so as to have it nice and fresh.
The sun had gone down behind the hills.
Blossom, a beautiful Alderney, whose big
black eyes looked almost human in their
color and expression, was lowing at the
bars, as though remonstrating at this un
wonted forgetfulness of her claims.
“I've half a mind to milk her myself,”
said Mrs. Bradley, as she glanced at the
shining pail on its wooden peg in the porch.
“I don't see what keeps Carl!”
Then the remembrance of Carl’s parting
injunction induced her to go down again to
the gate, to see if there were any signs of
iiim.
As she did so, she caught a glimpse of
the wagon coming slowly up the hill, Carl
sitting in frout holding, something very
carefully on his knees. *
With an inward wonder as to what this
could be, she darted hack into the summer-
kitchen, and had just removed the ashes
from a bed of glowing coals, when Carl en
tered, coming in through the front way.
“Why, Carl, what has kept you so late?”
“Oil, mother!” cried Carl excitedly,
“I’ve had such a strange adverture! Come
into the frout room and see what I’ve brought
you!”
Wondering not a little, Mrs. Bradley fol
lowed Carl into the front room. And there,
upon a pretty, chintz-covered lounge, lay a
beautiful little girl, al»out four years old,
fast asleep.
“Goodness me!” she ejaculated, wi
uplifted eyes and hands, “where did y<
get that ?”
“I didn't get ter,” responded Carl, “she
came to me. I believe the Lord sent her!”
added the boy, dropping his voice, and a
solemn look coming into his eyes, as they
rested upon the sweet picture before him.
And, certainly, there was never a sweeter
picture than that round, dimpled face, with
the bright halo of golden curls that encir
cled it.
As Mrs. Bradley gazed upon the little
stranger, its beauty and helplessness appeal
ed strongly to the purest and sweetness in
stincts of her nature.
“It is a very a very lovGy child, Carl.
But I don’t understand ”
“Of course you don't!” laughed Carl,
nibbing his hand with boyish glee, as he
took another survey of his new-found treas-
“How should you, when I haven’t
told you ?
“To go back to the beginning, the first
time I saw the little thing she was sitting
on Mrs. Moreland’s steps, crying. Mrs.
Moreland is the lady who engaged so many
of our purple plums. I had sold every
thing but them, and when I went up the
steps with the basket I filled the child’s
chubby hands as full as they could hold.
fifteen minutes in Mrs.
Moreland's. I thought I should never get
iv ; she had so much to say, and it took
her such a time to get change and have the
plums measured. I didn’t see the little girl
when I came out, and supposed she belong
ed to somebody in one of the houses near
by, and that she had gone in. I turned
Charley’s head homeward ; and you know
how he pricks up his ears and trots along
hen I do that. I had got quite a piece out
of town when I heard a little cry. At first
I thought it was along the roadside, and
stopping the wagon, ! looked around. Not
seeing anything, I drove on. Pretty soon ]
heard another cry louder and more impa
tient, and which sounded as if it was just
hack of me. I turned my head, and there
the little thing was, sitting among the emp
ty baskets and boxes!
1 was astonished enough at first, and
i I saw just how it happened.
“You see, the wagon was close to the
steps, and she had clambered into the haek
part, after more plums, perhaps, and being
tired out wandering around, had gone to
sleep.”
“But, Carl, you ought to have carried
her right back.”
“So I did, mother ; that’s what made me
so lute. 1 drove straight back to Mrs.
Moreland’s, and she didn’t know anything
about her. 1 asked the people in some of
the other houses and they didn’t either.
One man told me to take her to the station.
But I wouldn’t do that—such a little bit of
a baby—so I just brought her home to
iu.”
Here the child awoke and began to cry,
partly from hunger and parti}- from seeing
the strange faces that bent over^jpr.
Those violet .cve.-t, .with their gri«v*d,
wondering look, awoke a strange thrill in
Mrs. Bradley’s heart, and clasped their
owner in her arms, she carried her out to
where Carl's supper was awaiting for him.
Carl would have fed the hungry child
with the substantial food so grateful and
necessary to him, though he yielded readily
to his mother's suggestion that warm milk
vould he better.
While he was out milking, Mrs. Bradley
questioned the child, hut could gain no in
formation, save that her name was Dora
and her papa’s name “papa.” There was
name upon the clothing, whose elegance
and fineness of texture indicated that she
as the child of wealth, carefully and ten
derly nurtured.
J )ora partook eagerly of the nice bread
and milk that were prepared for her, falling
asleep immediately after, so that it was
ith some difficulty that she was inducted
into the little night-dress, which Carl could
hardly believe that he had ever worn, even
riien his mother told him so, and how
quickly he outgrew it.
He watched the process with great inter
est.
“You’ll keep her, won’t you, mother?”
lie said, as he kissed one of the white, dim
pled feet. “You’ve often said that you
wished you had a little girl.”
If no one claims her. We must do all
we can to find out to whom she belongs.
There are hearts that are very sorrowful to
night, mourning the loss of their darling.”
The next day Mrs. Bradley wrote out a
full description of Dora for the daily Har
binger, and which she gave to Carl to take
to the village postoffice.
As he walked along, thinking of the mort
gage, which threatened to deprive them of
their little home, and wishing that he was a
man, that lie might get a man's wages, he
saw an elegant barouche approaching drawn
by a span of coal-black horses, whose sil-
er-mounted harness glittered in the sun
light.
It contained only two persons : it's colored
driver, and a fhitely-looking, middle-aged
gentleman, who ordered the carriage to
stop, as soon as he saw Carl.
Boy, can you tell me where the Widow
Bradley lives?”
That is my* mother’s name. She lives
in the third house, on the right hand,
straight ahead.”
The fnan smiled.
“I am Judge Haviland. You must he
Carl Bradley, who found and took such
kind care of my little Dora. I am impatient
to see her—jump in and tell my man where
to stop.”
There was something more than curiosity
the keen eyes that surveyed Carl as he
obeyed.
not your mother’s maiden name
Wynne—Helen Wynne ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I used to know her when she was a girl,
and a very beautiful girl she was, too.
“My mother is very beautiful now.”
“I don’t doubt it,” smiled the judge.
And you are her son ? Dear! dear! how-
time does fly, to he sure.”
Mrs. Bradley was sitting upon the vine-
covered porch, with Dora in her anus, who
had fallen fast asleep, and did not see the
two until they were close upon her.
Strange and tenderemotions stirred Judge
llaviland's heart as he saw that fair, sweet
woman, the never-forgotten love of his
youth, holding his motherless child to her
bosom.
“It is Judge Ilaviland, mother,” said
Carl, in response to that startled inquiring
look.
“Helen—Mrs. Bradley, how shall I thank
you for your kindness to my little daugh
ter? I hope you have not found her trou
blesome ?” lie added, as the suddenly-
awakened child sprang eagerly to his arms.
“On the contrary, I—that is to say, we,
Carl and I, shall be sorry to part with her. ”
“Y*ou need not unless you choose. My
i of instinct kept him down by the gate until
Judge Haviland made has appearance.
Carl found his mother in a state of agita
tion, whose nature he could not define
there w-ere traces of tears upon her face,
and yet he thought that he had • never seen
her eyes so bright, or her cheeks so bloom
mg.
To his great delight Judge Ilaviland de
cided to leave Dora, for the present, with
her new- friends, to use his own words, ‘ Tor
the sake of country air and conntry livin;
But he came to see her often—almost every
day in fact; so that Carl was, in a measure,
prepared for the announcement that was
made to him one evening, as they were all
out on the porch together, and which the
judge gave in a way peculiar to him.
‘ T have news for you, my l>oy, and which
I hope will make you as happy as it has
mae me. Your mother is going to l>e my
wife, and Dora, your own little sister ! ”
The hoy was silent, and his face bein^
hidden by the curly head of the child
that was clinging to his neck, his mother
could not see how he took this.
“Are you sorry, my son ? I shall love
you just the same.”
Carl smiled as he met that anxious, ap
pealing look.
“I am glad, mother; for your sake and
mine, very-glad.”
A Good Reason.
He was a regular dandjr in appear
ance. He wore kid gloves, plug hat,
gaiters with cloth uppers, a natty cut
away coat hidden beneath a checkered
ulster, and a pair of mouse-colored
linen pantaloons.
Everybody noticed his summer trous
ers as he walked down the street.
“Hey, mister!” shouted the boy,
“slioor the pants.”
Still he paid noattentiou.
“There goes a Hesquimaux.” shrieked
another gamin.
Then he sought refuge in a sample-
room, where one man took the liberty
of inquiring:
“Why don’t you wear cloth trousers;
j’xm’U kill yourself going around that
way In this kind of weather.”
The man didn’t reply, but got near
the stove.
“Guess he’s a poet trying to come
the eccentric,” suggested another.
After a few moments of silence an
other man bawled out:
“If 1 were you I’d driy-e my legs into
the sleeves ol my ulster and tie the
skirts around my neck.”
After several more had quizzed him
on the. absurdity of wearing summer
pantaloons in midwinter, he got up
and shouted :
“Would you all like to know yvhy I
wear summer trousers now ?”
“Yes, yes!” they answered, unani
mously.
“Well, its because they’re all I’ve
got!” Ili.s reply was satisfactory.
The Zulu
Hunters.
of the Zulus
which the
Some few
Hudson Bay Dog Tean
Profanity—and particularly French
profanity, seems a necessary adjunct to
dog-driving. It is unfortunate that,
by some inscrutable dispensation of
Providence, the only method of reach
ing a dog’s reason should be through
unlimited imprecation. But speaking
with the experience of many days of
dog-travel and an intimate acquaint
ance yvith a score or more of dog trains
I have never seen an attempt made to
reach it in any other way-. I do not
seek to exaggerate, hut simply to pre
sent dog-driviug as it really is—an in
human thrashing and varied cursing.
The cruelty with which dogs are treat
ed cannot be excused. It is true they
are obstinate and provoking, and re
quire severe beating, especially from
new driver, till the team is brought in
to subjection. But when helpless anif
inals undergoing severe labor in the
trains, are not merelv beaten on the
i and my child easily, and that I could leave
i a chink of tlie lid open to led us breathe,
for the overlapping edge would save my
fingers from the panther. In a second I
had it all clear before me; but had the
brute not stopped short at sight of the cur
tain, I should never have had a chance of
trying it. Luckily for me the Indian
panther, savage as he is, is a terrible cow
ard, and suspicious as any detective. I’ve
seen one go round and round a trap for
more than half an iionr, before he made up
his mind to spring at the bait. So, while
my friend was puzzling himself over the
curtain, and wondering whether it was
meant for a trap or not, I took up Minnie,
(who, poor little pet seemed to know there
was something wrong, and never uttered a
sound) and into the chest I crept, makin,
as little noise as I could.
“I was hardly settled there when I heard
the ‘sniff-sniff' of the panther coming right
up to where I lay, and through the cliiuk
that I had left upon, the hot, foul breath
came steaming in upon my face, almost
making me sick. It 9ecmed to bring my
henrt into my mouth when I heard his
great claws scraping the edge of the lid,
and trying to lift it up; but, happily, the
body with heavy lashes, but symetrica.'
ly flogged o n the head till their ears j chink was too narrow for his paw to enter,
drip blood—beaten with whip handles I But if the paw couldn't, the tongue could;
till their jaws and noses are cut open ^°° n he began to lick my fingers, rasp
with deep wounds—cudjelled with
clubs, knelt upon and stamped upon
until their howls turn into low moans
of agony—punishment merges into
sheet brutality. And yet such treat
ment is of common occurrence. As 1
said, the beatings from being intermit
tent became incessant. Many of the
dogs had so exnausted themselves by
violent darcings hither and thither in
their endeavors to dodge the blows of
the descending whip, that they had
strength left for the legitimate task of
hauling the sledge. The heads o
others were reduced to a swollen, pul
py mass by tremendous thrashings,
while one or two had given out aJto-
gether and had been taken from the
harness and abandoned on the plain.
The operation of “sending a dog to
Rome” had been performed more than
once—a brutal operation in which the
driver sinks below the level of the beast.
Sending a dog to Rome, is effected by
simply beating him over the head with
a club or heavy whip handle until he
falls insensible to the grouud. When
lie revives, with the memory of the
awful blows that deprived him of con
sciousness fresh upon him he pulls
franticly at his load. A dog is sent to
Rome tor various and often trivial prov
ocations—because he shirks or wiil not
pull, because he will not permit the
driver to adjust some hitch in his har
ness. While he is insensible the nee-
sary alteration is made, ard upon re
covering consciousness he receives a
terrible lash of the whip to set him go-
igam.
Ot the skill and <
many anecdotes are told, of
following is a specimen:
years ago a Zulu Trimter, bearing a
young British officer speak somewhat
lightly of native prowess, offered to
give him a specimen of it by killing
single handed a huge lion which infest
ed the neighborhood. The challenge
was accepted, and the brave fellow at
once set out on his dangerous errand,
the officer and several of his comrades
following at a distance. Having
drawn the beast from his lair, the hun
ter wounded him with a well flung
spear, and instantly fell flat on the
ground beneath his huge shield of rhi
noceros hide, which covered his whole
body like the lid of a dish. The lion,
having vainly expended his fury upon
it, at length drew back a few paces.
Instantly the shield rose again, a sec
ond lance struck him, and his furious
rush encountered only the impenetra
ble buckler. Foiled again, the lion
crouched close beside his ambushed en
emy, as if meditating a siege, but the
wily savage raised the luriher end ol
the shield just enough to let him creep
noiselessly away iij the darkness, leav- 8ailic
his buckler immoved. Arrived at
a safe distance, he levelled his third
spear at the broad yellow flank of the
royal boast with such unerring aim as
to lay him dead on' the spot, and then
returned composed ly to receive the con-
ratillations of the wondering specta
tors.
The Wee Mathematician.
A sharp little girl once proved that
the language of mathmetics was not as
exact as it should be:
A female teacher had a class of begin
ners—children of 4 and 5 years. In
teaching them the ruddimonts of ar
ithmetic, she thought to simplify
things. The use of the ten numerals
she taught by their ten lingers, and in
adding or subtracting tlie single num
bers they could reckon upon those dig
its. The thing worked to a charm and
the little one’s readily learned thus to
solve the flrst problems of the great
science.
One day the class was out for recita
tion, and subtraction was the theme.
“Five irom five leaves hew many?”
was by-and-bv asked a bright-eyed
miss of 4 summers.
The little thing up with her fingers
and went at it. For a time she seemed
exceedingly puzzled, but at length her
eyes snapped, and -she lifted her head
confidently.
“Five!” she said with assured em
phasis.
Curious to know how she arrived at
that solution, the teacher asked her to
explain.
“Why,” replied the child, holding
out her two hands, and placing tnem
side by side, “zere’s five on ’at hand,
and five on ’at. Now I take away ’ese
five from ’ose five, and—’ere zey oe—
five!”
About as fine a piece of ocular dem
onstration in tlie way of a logical di
lemma as you will often meet.
To “head off” such sharp little dis
coverers and accountants, it will be In
order to sav, “Five from itself, how
in.-. 11V ?”
Two ladies, both of them a little dull
in the hearing, were in jL-hurch one
day, when the minister had for his
text, “Except you repent ye shall
lad,” turning to Carl, “will you go down likewise perish.” lhev listened
to the road and look after my horses ?” i Patently enough, but whet, they got
Carl could see no necessity for “looking ° ,lt the one salU 0,, ‘ e ^ Je “ e >
after" the horses, whose driver appeared to > ? n an a " fu ’ 1
be a faithful and competent man; butasort ‘VepuUenouto’the parish.’ ”
A Morniug Call From A Panther.
“ I suppose you’re wondering why I keet
ing them so that I hardly knew how to bear
it. Still, the touch of Minnie’s little arm
around my neck seemed to give me courage.
“ But there was far worse than this to
come; for the panther suddenly leaped
right on top of the chest, and his weight
pressed down the heavy lid upon my fing
ers, until the pain was so terrible that un
able to stand it any longer, I screamed with
all my might.
“The scream was answered by a shout,
from just outside, in which I recognized
my husband's voice. The panther heard it,
too, and it seemed to scare him, for he
made a dash for the window, either forget
ting or not noticing the iron bare; but just
as he reached it, there came the crack of a
rifle, and I heard the heavy brute fall upon
the floor, Then all the fright seemed to
come back upon me at once, and I fainted
outright.
“1 heard afterward that Mr. R had
happened to want some instrument which
he had left at the house; anil, not wishing
to trust it in the hands of any of the na
tives, he came back for it himself—luckily,
just in time, for the bullet from his rifle
killed the panther. But as you see, my
hand it pretty stiff yet.
Rub Your Glasses.
Are the eyes of any ot our readers at that
stage when, from long use, they need assis
tance in their more difficult work ? No
blame to the eyes! What other instrument
is there which so well endures the strain of
half a century’s continuous work ? For it
is somewhere near life’s fiftieth year that
this stage is readied by the eyes. Are you
not a little awkward in the use of the new
instrument? You hold out a good while,
till it was a question at length of arm, al
most as much as shortness of sight. Do
not you feel as if you ought to make a little
explanatory statement before you produce
it, for the first time, in company? You
have been, fust to save your eyes, “using
glasses” in private, your wife perhaps, or
your husband, resenting it as a piece of af-
seat, the one nearest the stove, and looks
straight out of the window and never looks
anywhere else, and never shakes her plumes
again while she stays in the car.”
“And the man who wants to talk,” I said,
“the* man who would probably die if lie
couldn't talk five minutes to every one he
rides with; who glares hungrily around the
car until his glance rests on the man whom
he thinks too feeble to resist him, and opens
the intellectual feast by asking him how the
weather is down his way; the man who is
always most determined to talk when you
are the sleepiest, or when you want to read
or to think, or just sit and look out of the
car window and enjoy your own idle, pleas
ant. vagrant day dreams?”
“And the man,” said Rogers, “who gets
on the train and stares at every man in the
car ixffore he sits down, and stands and
fectation, and kiadly pooh pooing the idea i 10 ] c j s the door open while he stares. Who
of age making them necessary to you. But j a ] wa y 8 carries an old-fashioned oil cloth
they are necessary ; and it will lie a great
relief to you when you are known to use
them, and their appearance evokes neither
surprise nor meat. But that is neither
here nor th :re. We refer to the new cx-
carpet-hag with him, as wide and deep as a
fire-screen, and before he sits down takes
that carpet-bag by the bottom, rolls it up
into a close roll, and puts it in the rack.
It is always dead empty. When he leaves
perience in using the glasses, anil its most; he never puts a rag ora thread or a
valuable suggestiveness. You find now
and then th i t type is indistinct; tlie objects
are dim or blurred; the eye does not de
fine : and you learn to take off the glasses,
and with the clean pocket-handkerchief
clear the lenses, and lo! the lines grow
sharp, and the vision is distinct'. It is easy
for you anil me, friend to perform this me
chanical process : but there is its counter
part in the mind’s eye, which is more im
portant and immensely more difficult. In
this thing we can see the want in our neigh
bor's glasses more readily than in our own;
e shall look to theirs. All men have
button in it. When he comes back it is
emptier than it was when he went away.
It never had anything in it that he knows
of since it was owned in the family, but he
will never travel without it.”
“And the other man,” I said, “who car
ries nothing in his carpet-bag hut lunch,
and eats all the way from Chicago to Cairo?'’
“And the man who rides on a pass, and
stands on familiar terms with the company,
and calls the brakeman Johnny?”
“And the man,” I said, “who is riding
on a pass for the first time, and stands up
and holds his hat in his hand when he secs
their weaknesses, all except you and I, dear i t j ie conductor approaching, and says ‘sir’
reader, and a few of our most intimate to he answers the official's questions
. keey
that ugly old chest. ’ said Mrs. Ii -r!
“and 1 must cwn that It’s not very orn?^
mental; but it saved my life once, for all
that. I see you think I’m making fun of
you, but I'm not, indeed; and when you
hear the story, I think you’ll agree with
me that I have good reason to value it, ug
ly as it looks.
“ This was how it happened. When we
first came out to India, my husband was
sent to make the survey of the Nerbudda
Valley', one of the wildest bits in all cen
tral India: and we really were, just at first
the only white people, within 40 or 50
miles. And such a time as we had of it!
If my husband hadn't been as strong as he
is, and a perfect miracle of patience as
well, I don’t know how we could have
stood what he had to do. It was dreadful
werk for him, being up sometimes for a
whole night together, or having to stand
out in the burning sun, when the very-
ground itself was almost too hot to touch.
And as for the native workmen, I never
saw such a set,—always doing everything
wrong, and never liking anybody to put
them right. When the railway was being
made they used to carry the earth on their
heads in baskets; and when Mr. R
served out wheel-barrows to them, the ac
tually' carried them on their heads in the
ay’! 1 couldn’t help laughing at it.
though it wa9 terrible provoking, too. And
that was just the way they T all were: if
there was a wrong way of using anything
they’d be sure to find it out. Even our
butler, or khitmutgar who
much
better than most of them, came one day
and begged a pair of old decanter-labels
that my husband was going to throw away;
and when the man came in the next morn
ing, he had positively turned them into ear
rings, and went about quite gravely with
‘Port’ in one ears and ‘Sherry’' in the
other!
“However, if tlie native men worried
me, the native beasts were 50 times worse.
It was no joke, I can assure you, to lie
awaked in the middle of the night by the
roar of a tiger close under the window or
by r an elephant crashing and trumpeting
through the jungle with a noise like a
mail-coach going full gallop into a hot
house. Well, as soon as that was over,
the jackals would set up a squealing and
whimpering like so many frightened child
ren ; and then a dreadful native bird, whose
name I’ve never found out (I suppose be
cause nobody could invent one bad enough-
for it), would break out in a succession of
the most horrible cries 4 —just like somebody
being mnrdered,—until tlie noise nearly
drove me wild.
“And then the ants! hut you've seen
them for yourself, and I needn’t tell you
about them. But all this w'hile I’m neg
lecting my story.
“One day* (it will be long enough before
I forget it) my husband was out as usual at
his work, and the nurse had gone down to
the other native servants at the end of the
‘compound,' as we call this big inclosurc :
and I was left alone in the house with my
little Minnie yonder, who was then just
about a year old. By this time I had got
over my first fears, and didn’t mind a bit
being left by myself; indeed all the lower
windows having bare across them, I thought
that I was safe enough; but I little
dreamed of what was coming!
“ I must have been sitting over my sew
ing nearly an hour, with the child playing
about the floor beside me when suddenly*
I heard a dull thump overhead, as if some
thing had fallen upon the roof. I didn't
think anything of it at the moment, for one
soon gets used to all sorts of strange sounds
in the Indian jungle; but presently I
thought-1 could hear a heavy breathing in
the next room but one, and I began to feel
frightened in earnest. I rose as softly* as I
could, and crept to the door-way between
the rooms. This door-way was only closed
by a curtain, and gently pulling aside the
Chloride of^Sodium.
Early one morning a tremenilous
commotion was created in a lodging-
house on B street, Virginia City,
by' an inveterate wag, who really ought
to be taken care of at once. The man
was lodging in the house, and, about
eight o’clock came down from his room
and told the landlady that her little
bey had found a box of chloride of so
dium on his wash-stand and had Taken
some. “If you can get a stomach-
pump into him inside of an hour, lie’ll
live. Now don't get excited; keepcool
Put a mustard plaster on his stomach
at once, and send for all the doctors
in reach. You’ll be sure to find one at
home.” By this time the frantic
mother had the hoy stretched out on
the bed, and was getting a square yard
of mustard plaster ready. At tlie same
time she dispatched three boys and a
little girl for medical aid. “Here,”
said the wag, coolly*. “I’ll leave you the
name of the chemical on a piece of
paper—chloride of sodium. Make no
mistake; anj* doctor will know what to
do the minute he sees the name. It’s
all right; now don’t cry. It won’t
have the slightest effect under an hour.
Keep cool. Don’t frighten the child.
I’ll go down and send up some doctors
myself, and here the young man start
ed at a brisk pace down town, and soon
had several doctors routed out of their
offices. Meanwhile the boy, who was
nine years old, was bawling at the top
of his voice, anil some of the ladies
from neighboring houses came in to
help him on the bed while the mustard
plaster was spread over his stomach.
Every woman who came in was shown
the name of the poison written on the
paper, and they* ejaculated: “Mercy
on us!” Gracious me!” “Oil ray!” and
“Merciful heavens!” in concert. Pres
ently the doctors began to arrive, Dr.
Uarris came tearing up the alley with
a stomach-pump, followed by Webber,
Anderson, Conn, Pritchard, Grant,
Heath, Bergstein, and indeed all the
medical faculty of the city, with medi
cine cases and instruments and sto
mach pumps. At the sight of so for
midable array the patient (oil whom
the plaster was drawing like a ten-mule
team) set up a howl of despair.
“What has he taken, Madame?” ask
ed Dr. Harris hurriedly.
“Here’s the paper,” qried the moth
er. sobbing. “That’s the stuff he took.”
The doctor read the inscription, pass
ed it too the next man with a laugh,
and it went round the group. Present
ly some one remarke ‘, “Salt by thun
der !”
They explained to the weeping moth
er that she had been made the victim
as well as themselves, of a cruel hoax.
There was a big laugh, but when that
wag gets home to his lodgings to-night
salt wont savs him.
Blucher Failed to Appear.
A very thrilling accident happened
to the train in which I went to New
Carlisle. We were crossing a long
bridge at a very high rate of speed, the
captain’s chronometer indeed indicat
ing i. gait of 2.17^ on the first quarter,
when suddenly the engineer staggered
into the special drawing room car m
which I always travel—big coal stove,
in the middle, tool chest at the end.
and long seats at the sides, so you can
lie down and pounu your ear when you
are weary—the engineer came in with
a face of ashy paleness, and said to the
conductor:
“We are lost!”
“What has happened ?” eagerly' ask
ed the conductor.
I leaned forward and caught the en
gineer’s agonized whimper.
•‘She’s blowed all the packin’clean
out of the ash pan !”
Few, few of the other passengers re
alized the imminent peril through
I’hich we were passing, but I sat and
folds, I peeped through—and found myself listened to the labored sound of men at
within a few paces of the largest panther the pumps, and silently prayed that
I had ever seen in my* life! ) night or Bluclier would come. Night
“ F o r one moment it was just as if I had caine a i on g after awhile, and we were
been frozen stiff, and then the thought . . ® , . ... ’
came to me just aL if somebody has spoken saved ’ but Blucber d.d not put in an
it; ‘The big chest!’ | appearance, and I afterwards learned
“I knew that this chest wonld hold me he was detained by deadness.
friends. Let us look for our facts where
they* can be found.
Some men, for example—not of course,
in our set—have prejudices, through which
they look. Somehow they have what they
facetiously* call judgments on certain mat
ters, and nothing will shake their jiulj
meats. To be sure, the judgment came be
fore the argument. They are the very re
verse of the honest and candid criminal
who, when asked, “Guilty or not guilty?”
naively said, “How can I tell till 1 hear the
evidence?” They see all that appertains
to these matters through coloring or confus
ing matter. They should rub their glasses.
We can see that, hut they do not; for, as
some one shrewdly says, what is sight or
observation to a good sound prejudice?
Self-love dulls the mind’s perceptions, es
pecially if wounded. The wounded part is
always abnormally sensitive. Men do not
like their class to be censured. Y’ou and I
do not like—beg pardon—other men do not
like the connections of anything or anybody
that strikes, or has struck, or might, coulil,
or would, strike at them. The Stafford
shire boor—the story is familiar, but vener
able—killed the unoffending gosling on the
roadside. The farmer's wife resented it,
and demanded, “Why?”—“An’ whoi,”
was the reply, “did goose-chick’s father
nibble Oi ?” It is dangerous for any gos
ling to be connected with an ancestor that
has obeyed a native instinct and “nibbled”
boors on the roadside. Present enjoyment
has the same obscuring tendencies. Y’ou
and I read “Billiards” on a window, and
we have visions that are not pleasant of
gambling drinking hapless homes, “un
pleasantness,” wasted lives, and gloomy
deaths. But those fine young fellows in
side, with their coats off, under the shaded
lamps, they see nothing of those horrors.
They think you and me •‘fogies,” and only
for politeness’ sake would call us “old
women. ”
and is generally more respectful to him than
he is ever going to be again?’’
“And the man,” he said, “who walks
through the entire length of an empty coach
looking for a seat, anil then goes back and
sits down in the first one, nearest the door?”
“And the man,” I said, “who always
gets left?”
“And the man," he said, “who loses his
ticket?”
And thus, with pleasant comments on
our fellow* passengers did we beguile the
weary hours.
I think the adjuster is the most observant
man I ever met on a train. He sees every
thing, and notes the peculiarities of the
people he meets before he has seen them.
We sat in a car together up in Wisconsin
one day and he said:
“Don't you always notice, in every car
in which you ride, the fool that always sits
directly before you, and always opens the
window ever» time the engine whistles, and
sticks his h and shoulders out to see
what they are doing at that station, and
never closes the window till the station is
out of sight?’’
“Y’es, I had; anil he never saw anybody
he knew at any station?”
“Never,” said the adjuster, “and he
never sees anything anybody is doing at the
station, and can’t tell the name of the station
while he is at it?”
“And always scrapes the back of his head
against the sharp edge of the window sash
when he pulls it in,” I said, “and then dis
mally rubs his head while he turns around
and looks suspiciously at you, as though he
believes you did it, and did it on purpose?”
“And the man who is waiting at the
station to see the train come in?” continued
the adjuster, “the man with butternut over
alls tucked into his lioots, tawny beard, arms
crammed intohis pockets up to the elbows,
mouth wide open—you never miss him;
when you go down, lie is standing there at
sunset; when you come hack at sunrise, he
is waiting for you; never sees "anybody he
knows get off the train, never sees anybody
he knows get on, never expects to; would
be astonished to death if he should happen
to see an acquaintance come or go; isn’t
paid for it, hut it’s his business. Has noth
ing else in the world to do. 19 always there.
If the train comes in fifteen minutes ahead
of time, he has made allowance for it and
has been there twenty minutes : if the train
is four hours late, he waits for it. Y'ou see
him at nearly every station.”
“Never speaks to anybody,” I said.
“Never,” said the adjuster, “and if any
body speaks to him he says ‘Dunno.’ If
the baggageman runs over him with a truck
he says, ‘Huh!’ and shrinks up a little closer
against the station, but never gets out of the
way.”
“And do you remember the man who
sits behind you and whistles?” I asked.
“And when he gets tired of whistling in
your car, sings bass?” suggested the adjuster.
And never whistles or sings anything
that you know?”
“Or that he knows?”
“And the ‘masher,’ whose breath is near
ly as bad as his morals, who wants to tell
you all about the daughter of a wealthy mer
chant who was ‘just dead gone' on him the
last time he went over this road?'’
‘And the man behind you who bites off
half an apple at one bite and then puts his
chin on your shoulder and tries to talk to
you about the weather and crops?”
And the man who comes into the car at
the front door, walks clean back and out on
the rear platform, looking at each one of a
dozen empty seats, hunting for a good one,
and then turns hack to find every last seat
taken by the people who caine in afte “ him.
‘And have you never seen the girl get on
at some country station,” said the adjuster,
“fixed up mighty nice for the town, the
belle of the village, dressed in more colors
than you can crowd into a chromo, half the
town down at the station to see her off; she
walks across the platform feeling just a lit
tle too rich to look at, comes into the car
with her head up and plumes flying, ex
pecting to set every woman in that car wild
with envy as she walks down the aisle: she
opens the door and sees a car full of Chicago
girls dressed in the rich, quiet elegance of
city girls in their traveling costumes, and
The Mutter with Women’* .Shoes.
Dr. Dio Lewis has the following in
relation to women's shoes. The sole is
too narrow. My friend, Mrs. C., in
reading the chapter in “Our Girls” de-
w^d to “Boots Mid Shoes,” came to
•ay that, although she was a great suf
ferer from corns and a general sore and
crippled condition of the feet, her shoes
were enormous, twice as large as her
feet. She wished I would see if it wa9
not so. I examined the shoes and
agreed with her that they were too
large. As she stepped, it was doubt
less true, as she said, that her foot
rocked over first on this side anil then
on that. Now it pressed over on the
outside, rubbing down over the edge of
the sole and touching the ground, and
perhaps, if the ground was at all un
even, on the very next step, her foot
would rock on the other side ot the
sole. Such friction between the little
toe and the big toe joints against the
upper leather must inevitably produce
corns. I think the majority of shoes
are too large.
Mrs. C. wished me to accompany her
to the shoemaker and see what I could
do for her relief, for really life was be
coming a torture. We went to her
own shoemaker. Mrs. C. hobbled to a
seat and declared:
“I won’t try to walk again, there!”
Her shoe was removed and Mr. Shoe
maker marked around her foot, while
she was standing upon it. We meas
ured it and found it was exactly lour
inches. That was the width of her
foot when she stepped on it without a
shoe. Then we measured the sole of
the shoe she had been wearing, and
found it two and a half inches. Here
was the secret of the whole trouble.
A pair of shoes were made for her ai
once, with soles four inches broad.
Now she can walk for hours without
a pain in her feet. There are millions
of poor sufferers in the country, who
are limping and hobbling through the
world, who might be perfectly relieved
and cured by the same means.
Peril* of Acricnlmre in Tyrol.
The presistence with which humanity at
taches itself to fertile land without regard
to danger is illustrated elsewhere than here.
The peasants on the slopes of Vesuvius
push their cultivation and plant their homes
in the very track of a possible lava stream,
and all the world over, facility for obtain
ing a livelihood blinds the cultivator to all
risks. Grolmian says: “In the Wild--
Sell re nan, North Tyrol, not a few of the
houses, are built on such steep slopes that a
heavy chain has to be laid round the house
and fastened to some firm object—a large
tree or bowlder of rock higher up. In
one village off the Puster Thai, and in two
others off the Oborinn Thai, many of the
villagers come to church with crampoons
on their feet, the terrible steep slopes on
which their huts are builts, somewhat like
a swallow's nest on a wall, requiring this
precautionary measure. In Moss, a village
not far from the Brenner, having a popula
tion of eight hundred inhabitants—more
than three hundered men and women have
been killed since 1758, by falls from the
incredibly steep slopes upon which the pas
turages off tliis village are situated. So
steep are they, in fact, that only goats, and
even they not every where, can be trusted
to graze on them, and the hay for the larg
er cattle has to be cut and gathered by the
hands of men. I have myself seen, in walk
among the hills, little stores of grass
piled against the upper side of protecting
trees, where it had been bronght in arm
fuls when cut by the spike-shod mower.
Tlie haymakers gather there little crops
here and there on the steep grass-patches,
almost at the limit of vegetation, pack it in
nets or in sheets, and bring it on their
shoulders down tlie steep and daugerous
paths. My earlier idea of an “alp" was
that of a level plateau at the top of the
lower mountains. Alps which are evtn,
nearly level are very rare, especially among
the higher elevations. Generally they are
so steep, so broken, and so inaccessible
that one wonders how cattle are got to
them, and how they can be trusted to graze
over them. These alps are bounded by no
fences, and it must be an anxious task for
those who have the herds in charge to get
them safely together at milking-time. Each
animal wears its bell—not the hollow
sounding dull bow-bell with which we are
familiar, but musical in tone, and heard
from a much greater distance. The alpine
hut and the Sennerin, or daii y-inaid, who
spends the whole summer in nearly solitary
attention to her arduous duties, are not al
together what one’s imagination might de-
p ; ct. She is not the dairy-maid of poetrv-
nor is her temyorary home filled with the
more ethereal pastoral associations. Yet
j these people, too, have a romantic and
I imaginative side to their lives, and are hap
py and wholsome and oontant. The agri
culture of North Tyrol, outside of the val
ley ot the Inn. is mostly confined to very
small operations. A few cattle, a few
sheep, a little poultry, a few small fields,
and a mountain pasture constitute the stock
in trade on which the industrious and frugal
pair bring up their family in comfort and
decency, accumulate portions for their
daughters, and lay aside a provision for
their own old age. Labor-saving hardly
exists. Everything is accomplished by
unmitigated and unremitted toil. In youth
and in early life the people are stalwart,
active and hearty; but old age comes very
early, and at forty the vigor of manhood
and wouiaub«^jd ia pnased—tb*» activity and
vigor, but not tlie endurance: up to really
old age even slight little women carry enor
mous loads in the baskets at their backs up
and down steep rough hill-sides and moun
tain-paths, where an unaccustomed tourist
must puff and toil to move his own unen
cumbered pereon.
A Glass Mo
Mr. P. W. Norris, the ri;»perintend-
ent ot the Y’ellowstone National Park,
on a recent visit to the capital gav
lecture on some of the natural curiosi
ties of the region over which he pre
sides and is engaged in exploring.
Among these may be mentioned as tlie
most novel a mountain of obsidian or
volcanic glass, and a road made from
this material. Near the foot of Beaver
Lake the explorers discovered tl
mountain of glass, which there rises
basalt-like columns and countless hu
masses many hundreds of feet high
from a hissing hot spring forming the
margin of the lake, thus creating a bar
rier where It was very desirable for:
wagon road to be; as the glass barri
cade sloped for some 300 feet high at
angle of 45 degrees to the lake, and its
giistening surface was therefore im
passible, there being neither Indian nor
ame track over it. To form the road,
huge fires were made against the glass
to thoroughly heat and expand it,
and then by dashing cold water
ainst the heated glass, suddenly cool
the latter, causing large fragments to
bre»k from the mass, which were after
wards broken up by sledges and picks
but not without severe lacerations of
the hands and faces of the party, into
smaller fragments, with which a wagon
road one-quarter of a mile long was
constructed, about midway along the
slope, thus making, it is believed, the
only road of native glass upon the con
tinent. On reaching the Grand canon
of the Gibson river, the explorers
found the eastern palisade, for about
two miles in length, to consist of verti-
cle pillars, hundreds of feot high, of
glistening black, yellow, mottled, or
banded obsidian or volcanic glass.
This obsidian has been and is still used
b}* the Indians for making arrow heads
and other weapons and tools, and the
mountain has formed a vast quarry for
the making of such instrun^nts or
weapons of a quality unequa/cd any
where. #
He truly mourns the dead who lives
> see how she drops like a shot into the first as they desire.
There is a large spring with a spring
house over it, about one hundred and twen
ty feet from Mr. GrofFs residence, near
Beartown, Berks County, Pa., from which
the family get their water. Drinking water
from this spring is carried to the house in a
bucket, and, in order to have cool water
for the night to drink, it is the custom of
Mr. Groff to go to the spring for water just
before going to bed. The water is carried
to the house in a tin bucket and stood in
the kitchen, and when any of the family
want water they arise from their beds and
go down stairs in the dark and with a dip
per take a drink from this bucket. Mrs.
Groff cannot tell the night, but she says it
was very hot and sultry in her bedroom in
the latter part of August last, and feeling
very thirsty she went down to the kitchen
for a drink of water. It was quite dark, as
the windows of the kitchen were closed
with shutters. In drinking the water from
the bucket which her husband had brought
from the spring a short time before, she felt
a scratching, or rather a choking sensation
in her throat, and tried to vomit, but could
not. She went up stairs to bed, laid down
and in her half-dazed state of mind imag
ined that she felt a creeping sensation in
her stomach. From this night on Mrs.
Groff has not been well. She has not hail
a refreshing night's sleep since. Her appe
tite gradually failed and she has lost G1
pounds of flesh. Her hair, which was jet
black, is now turning gray, and her bright,
lieautiful black eyes have a hallow glare.
Instead of looking healthy she is the picture
of despair. A neighbor, John Eshleman,
said: “Mrs. Groff was a splendid house
keeper; no one around here could beat her,
and her husband was not only happy, but
his affectionate wife would have worked her
fingers off for the welfare of her family.
Now she is broken down and sickness and
pain have succeeded to their heretefore hap
py fireside.” Mrs. Groff then consulted
Dr. Camp!»ell. After taking the emetics
prescril>eii. Mrs. Groff vomited up nine
good-size* 1 crabs. They are of different
sizes. One of them, an old one, no doubt,
as it has a hardshell, which naturalists who
have seen it, say it is about shedding. Two
of the others moulting and throwing off
their entire calcareous covering. One of
the crabs was examined with a miscros-
cope. It is furnished with eight pieces or
pairs of jaws and an extremely short gullet.
The Doctors declare that in 'a short time
Mrs. Groff will be as well as ever again.
A young man called, in company
with several other gentlemen, upon a
young lady. Her father was also pre
sent to assist in entertaining the callers.
He did not share his daughter’s scrup
les against spirituous drinks, for he had
wine to offer. The wine was poured
out, and would soon have been drunk,
but the young lady asked, ‘Did you
call upon me or upon papa?*
Gallantry, if nothing else, compelled
them to answer. ‘We called upon you.*
‘Then you will please not drink
wine; 1 have lemonade for ray callers.’
The father urged the guests to drink
but they were undecided. The young
lady added, ‘Remember, if you call
upon me, then you drink lemonade;
but if upon papa, why, in that case 1
have nothing to say.’
The wine-glasses were set down with
their contents untasted.
Atter leaving the house, one of t l 'e
party exclaimed, ‘That is the most ef
fectual temperance lecture I have ever
beard.
