1880-02-06; Clare County Press

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VOLUME II.
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•CLARE, MICHIGAN, FB1E3X FEBBUABY 6, 1880.
; WUMlESm
Tlie ■Cis^e   County Press.
ISSUED. SVjBJES" SBSD-A'S' AS
Clare, Clare County, Mice.,
ALVAR'D P, .<3rOODiENOUa*H.
Aehs'ejriSsftnis E"2si<te«*. .
The following Table of Advertising"Kates hsx
■hssa Carefully caraaged acco?ding*. to a plan based
OP- SE'ACE REQtKREsT £?F.d TIME CONTINUED.     -SpSciEjl t
cars js taken to set up .and arrange advertisements
•£ti a systemr-tie manner, thus making them more
nttetSHve thna -crftsajsn&biect together.
TABLE OP JiBVET-XfelNG  KAT3S.
cinch gr.oa
s.in      1,50
3 IB 2.CO
4 in s.50
5£ col 3.00
% col 6.co
t  col ij>.qo
s wk
2.50
D.25
3.00
4-5°
9,co-
z3.es>
4<T/k
2.50
3-75
5.CQ
6.25
7.50
Z4.ca
so.oo
3 mos
3«5°
7.00
8.75
10.50
20.00
30.00
3 mos 6 mos   1 y:
4-5°
7.00
9.co
11.25
I3-50
25-00
35-0°
6.50   10.00
I.OQO'
13.00
iB.OO .
S9.50
35-oo
•50.00
i5-°°
20.00
25.00
30.00
50.00
80.00
-  Busk;ess Capbs, g :3ines £5 per yea-r; each, additional lijie, £2.
LnsAL^OTicns—RaSes -prescribedTay law.$
Local Notices—iocts. per line each insertion.
All Asvekxzsing psyable quarterly in Advance.
•v.
*>-?b'.'-
BUSINESS ■CAKD&
WHEATOM-& PERMYa
GLABE,       -      - "    MIOH.
All bussnsss intrusted vith them will re'eeiv
tsrontpt attention. Collections made and Real Ee
tafcebaughtandsold. Office Maynard Block,Main St
ery, Sewing Machine Fixtures, etc., Class.
(Ti EO. W. JSFPSEIEB, Judge of
\JJT Pr.OBATS and Justjcs of the Peace, Clare.
Special attention given ta making collections.   Of-
cc on Main Street.
solvent
AUorney-^at-Law and BolieUor*
QowrtMoumBmMAn^ MzrweU* Mich*
Attorney-aaid'-CcHOisSor-at-La'W', and
Counselor & Solicitor in Chancery,
'Court Mouse Building* MzrweU. -Mieh.
z.
GQ0B ¥AMMJKGr liAlSDS   FOR   BaJM
Cheap,,   Tissues Perfect,
Terms. East.
h. 0. d033g-e, ebwjem., mjcoh.
T
mr a cooler
BEftCRK, EI '    . *
Harness, "WMps, Eofees, & Blaufcets.
The best assortment -of Trunks fend Traveling
bags in town, and prises the fewest,   " „
,~-ZZ-,   1 •  'rt*.S* ^^Orp-^i  -. rn • -i * <Vf\ V se-, • 5*5 .j,;-1-.'!* , \i*
-■rr^nS-s} ',-*?*'.^.*-1l,  ,   j|«-~ "•    J"~ --J^y.^t-i-L-i-l'--^i^y)yyj.
(~   A, ■    ^-•■■i w-k "crairs.meC.   Repairing done promptly}
I •.tiU, $©11 Chester than can be houghs efee-
'" where in Saginaw ITalley.
N.
U-:
Notary Public^ Insurance Agt.
Money to, Loan
Oowri Mouse Building% Farwell.
. '   .       . wotabyPublic.
Eeal Estate and Insurance Agent. -
m&MJK*. isrsciar.
Particular attention paid to looking land, estimat
sng pine timber, adjusting trespsasses and paying
taxes for non residents.
Manhattan Fire Insurance Company of New York
Strong and sound, with low rates.
l\Ar B. JEFEERIES,       ;
SSALEE»r
-FRESH :'& SALTMEAf,
Fresh aad Cured Fisb*-
Fine Groceries and;General
*._ Eabm Peobitoel
Cheapest TEAio Town's
Oasfopafflfor hides.
STBEET, CLARE.
10'
!    HOTELS, LIBERIES, &G.
•^^W^SSSI^^^EWLY
Befitted* Mew Proprietor.
ST, JA'liEl;HOTE]L3
MOIMT PLEAS AST,  MICH.
3?irs£ Class Accommodations,   Good Sample Rooms
fpr Agents. Good Barn.
ABWEIA BILLIABB HALL,
■    EABWELL; "MICH.-        -
FIW ESf^C I Gr A R S,
Puree Wines* lAquors, Alesf Beer7 Porter* Cider*: Me.
Those desiring a pure article are invited to oalU
i HENRY NEWTON.
QTOMEBS &.SEWTOK:,    ..
Proprietors of the
FARWELL  LIVERY.
FORSES &.CARRIAGES -
TO LET.
Parties conveyed everywhere in this
section, and vicinity*
£fr*Tenns reasonable. *
■TOAGHjE HOTElLy.
Corals If ontcato Go./Mich.
A. FBED GK)OD0ENOTTG*H, Pfop.
£± y3Teffl3ii]JseE"siimee ISI©tsa©©o
This is a new house, neatly furnished, convenient
to the trains, with good accommodations, at reasonable prices.
tDKUISIS TEH3 STiSJSSr
BE »C&S3iATIS.
Ohl waters of MUrob. that ceaaeless flow
Ohl   human hearts with their -tides of woe;
<0rer riverg of grief, of pain cad tsars,
Tliat the stars look-on throngh-the passing years;
<©h I the torrents of sin that hopeless flow,
The bitter blasts 'that o'er human lives blow;
Oh.! the cra^l faces behind prison bars,-
Xhat mockingly stare Et the beautiful stars;
Oh! i±ie misery and sin- under the stars,
*   The beautiful stars.
Bee the pale mother as.she kneels by her bed,
And fhe stars cast a halo o'er ber silvered head,
©raying for a dear one in anguish of heart,
Who never has chosen the better part;
Who long ago -wandered far S;oia Ms home,
And left his poor mother alonej ah! so lone,
Under the stars, the pitying stars.
And the wan mourner as he bends o'er the bier,
And. drops a bitter ond anguished tear;
Only one year ago she stood by his side,
And the sun ne'er shone on a lovelier bride;
Uow the stars shine on a still, white face,
^Waxen hands folded with a silent grace;
"OPled from him now all joy and mirt|i,
All M.s hopes buried in the silent earth—
Under the stars, the sorrowing stars.
-ETeire stoops a miser, sallow and grim,
>0;S2 his battered cofiers filled to the brim;
ifpt a joy for him does the whole earth hold
But to count in the starlight his yellow gold;
Kathing to him the want and woe
That the stars look on as they onward go.
Only lives to worship his yellow gold
Till he sleeps clone in the silent mold
Under the stars, the golden stars.
Hera a gaunt prisoner, hands stained with blood;
Memories pour o'er him in a bitter flood—
Memories of childhood and a stainless youth,
Of .3 mother who taught him the v^ays of truth.
Wow he shiveringly lists to the clank of his chains,
And wonders can he e'er wash from his hands the
stains;
And he hopelessly stares through the rusty bars
At the c&aseless march of the-beautiful stars.
bonder a Magdalen in the dim. starHght
\70nders in sin tnrough the darkness of night;
liere a wanderer, steeped in sin to the lips,
Though ho loathes the cup that he eagerly sips;
Mothers with children crying for bread;
Mothers watching o'er their silent dead.
Ah! the anguish and woe of the human heart,
Bhe misery and sin that's of life a part
Under the stars, the pitiless stars.
Mother and mourner shall their loved ones meet?
Miser and wanderer will He in mercy greet?
Magdalen and prisoner will He wash in His blood?
Bid them be clean ere they cross the dark flood?
Shall they be found without blemish or stain?
Shall they sing^ the sweet anthems where He joyfully reigns,
.,    Above the stars, the paling stars?
- APPLEtEOH, Wis.
WM.0 wmWWB MBTMEEo
■ The clock on the maatel had just
chimed one short, musical stroke.
Through the half-closed Hinds shone
the silvery light of the fasfcwaning
anooa; the .candle had hnrned-.^low in
its socket; the log 'of wood had «on-
veEied itself to ashes; but of all this
Pr« Bernard Molton saw or heard noth-'
ingj as h© ss& in Ms office chair* lost in
tills i/oiiei ^ood^igMj'it'^me^'eaMie^
feeble existence had entirely ceased,
and even the. red glow of the ashes in
the grate had died away, he would still
have seen only the picture of the woman'sface whomf he loved. /
.It was with him now as it had been
with him for hours past, since the moment he had placed his fate in Viola
Fane's keeping, and she had accepted
it. Mo wonder that it all ,1 seemed
new and strange to him—that he was
heedless of time and space. She was
such a delicate, high-born lady, and he
—ah, another vision came before him
now. *Mofc the cheerful office, with its
luxurious appointments—he might at
least offer ¥iolet a home worthy of her
—but the memory of the days when he
had run, a. little, bare-footed lad, about
his mother's cottage, and the toiling for
her only child by which she
had earned one by one the
dollars which had sent him first to
the village school, and then to the great
city to learn the profession for which
he longed.
He had succeeded well and bravely,
beyond his most ambitious hopes; but
the mother who had toiled for him,
where was she? '• Why was it. that tonight her old, wrinkled face drove even'
Violet Fane's beauty from him?
True, he had no longer allowed her
to work; true, she sat at ease in her
little cottage, thinking of, and praying
for, her boy, who was so good and generous to her; but was it his fault that
his patients were so many and his hours
so precious that he could find no time
to gladden her old heart by a glimpse
of him now and then?
And now—now that he thought of
Violet as his wife—Violet, with her
high-bred ways—Violet, whose every
association was in such a widely different sphere—could it be that he was
ashamed of his mother?
The candle died out entirely; the
wood was white ashes now; the moon
had sunk to res£, the clock chimed 2;
but a red-hot flush burned on Br. Mol-
ton's cheek as he rose to find his way
up to his room and bed, and perhaps
forgetfulness in sleep.
For three long hours he sought the
boon in vain, and when at last it came
to him, and Ms tired eyes closed, how
could he but dream of those other eyes
just awakening in the far-off home,
whieh somehow to-night had so persistently haunted his thoughts?
In the little cottage all was bustle, for
Mrs. Holton had determined to give her
boy a surprise, and the train for London
started very early.
London i It lay ten long homfs away.
It would be almost nightfall when she
arrived. How glad Bernard would now
ba to see her I He had never proposed
her coming, because he had thought she
would not find the courage ; as though for
his sake she would not do or dare anything, '
She was sorry now she had not had
the village dressmaker make up. the
black silk he had sent her, but it looked
so grand in its lostrous folds that it
geemed' w% pity to touch it with the
■scissors, and she would seem more nat-
frr- -,
1LG
OS
tiir.
mc
hi"
Jll.
his betrothed, when, nest morning, he
ste oai in her presence.
5*jSTo, Violet," he answered; "but I
cozae to-day to tell you how unworthy I
"'"' o5 your love: Last night my mother
-uj to me. Hay, do not start. It was
"csitant from the spirit land, but an
p'A reality. I have never told you
'-VJ- mother. - Think of it—a man so
:-:iad, end yet dumb! All her life
foiled with poverty—for whose sake,
Az you? Her son's—that she might
".3 him a gentleman. G-od prospered
■jfiad enabled him to take all the
bur;:len from her old shoulders, and so
, hev bought he had done his duty. He
ipi .'.the body, but let her heart starve.
IV, -J night, in the desperation of her
htr-'i^or, she sought me out. For a mo-
anec-.i—oh, bitter humiiiation!—my
hcii^rebelled! Think of it, Violet—
tL icsuel, unnatural pride which would
bi;z3 into a man's cheek a blush for the
xzrr-m who bore him! I thought of
you^witjx^your pretty, dainty ways, side
z^e with her plain and homley ones.
law the two never could be recon-
: "'3, and so, Violet, I have come to ask
: ."'to forget me. My heart, my home,
: ssy mother's henceforth and for-
vv,»
/-^d the man some lingering hope
;£ the girl before him would refuse
:. cacriSce? Certainly an added look
^dieiing grew into his eyes as she
r.,:;. .-<&ed nothing, only Isdd'her hand
i\: It's a moment, as if in farewell
. AUb visits seemed very
v-.vjy, all that day, but, as he crossed
i1:a home threshold at nightfall, he
c "axothed the frown from his brow as he
i^.-.U'ked:
? ,4he must suspect nothing."
. He would find her, he knew, in his
,c;»r/jy. As he softly opened the door
1-0 anticipated her cry of, "My boy!" as
£lB tremblingly rose to greet him; but
s&J he had not anticipated the picture
yMgh met his gaze.
Sas mother was sitting, indeed, in
ih: arm-chair by the fire, but at her
fact, her head resting in her lap, while
ih-Q old fingers carelessly stroked the
Invariant chestnut hair, was another
fi'tKi'Q, which rose, instead, to welcome
s .Bernard," the sweet voice whispered
ill tig ear, "I lost my mother when I
It has been so sweet to
U
ural like to Bernard in her stiff dress
How often she had pictured him in
his lonely home. Bhe hoped he might
be out when she arrived, that she might
take off her bonnet, and, slipping on her
white cap, let him find her, with her
knitting in hand, quietly seated by'the
fireside, waiting his return.
All the way in the train, when at last
she had got started on her journey, she
could hardly keep. her happy thoughts
tq herself; and niOre than one glanced
into the smiling eld* face, -wi|h a something tugging at their heart-strings
which almost brought moisture into
their eyes.
It was quite nightfall when the city
was reached. There had been some
slight delay on the road, and the old
lady felt a sinking at the brave heart
whieh had prompted her mission. However, she succeeded in finding a cabman willing to take her to the address
she held ih her hand.
"It must be a mistake, or he has
brought me to the wrong place. Oh,
dear! what shall I do? " she" sighed, as
he drew rein before a large, handsome
house, presenting a well-lighted front,
in one of iihe most aristocratic portions
of Mayfair. -
But cabby reassured her, and she
soon found herself, surrounded by
boxes and bundles, facing the formidable "gentleman " who opened the
door.
Save for a suspicious shortness of a
certain portion of his attire, which
reached only to his knees, where they*
were met with stiff leather leggings, the
worthy woman would have dropped him
a courtesy.
"Past the doctor's office hours,
ma'am," he said, in response to her
feeble appeal. "It's as much as my
place is worth to take in your esffd,"
"But I have no card. He'll see me.
I'm—I'm—•"
But she did not finish the sentence—
only stepped inside the door and stood
under the full glare' of the light of the
hall lamp.
The man looked askance at the singular apparitions Her hat was crushed
and bent, her dress bore evidence of
the dust of travel, and in her hand was
a huge band-box, containing the hat
which was to astonish the [Londoners.
'"Indeed, ma'am—"the pxssa began,
but the old lady walked steadily on to j 'in-a one again!  Xou said, 'Henceforth
the door, beneath whose threshold she j <^m ^mQ m& ]jte| were j^g.*   Qh!
descried a stream of light, \v f lor^ may we nofrshare the boon ?M
The hot flush had by thi® tjpiebsHaefi'• -■?*-.      ,.. ■.,-_: *. ,, ., >-,   '
out of Dir. Kolton's €&e@k.AThQ ^«o-1^%<-. A.r QA ^A   ,   „ -   _  • •
Uis'Omm imz^£$Mz^^h&wiMM A**® iiAiifflS^' •   •- '
fancies, of the night.   His duties for
7
AT",
V. .
0„:
long, very
the day were over, ahd he was free to
seek Violet, whose wonderful eyes
would ,light up as he entered, and
Whose lips would perhaps brush his
cheeks, with their velvety caresses."
He sprung,to his feet to seek her,
when the door softly opened, and turn*
ing he saw—could it be a dream con*
jured up by his restless fancies of the
night before?—his mother! Close behind her was the wholly-wondering,
half-apologetic faee of his butler. It
took him a full minute to realise it was
no dream, and then (honor to his manhood) a sudden, overwhelming tenderness swept away all else, and with a
glad cry of "Mother!" he clasped her
to his heart.
When she had grown calmer and
more at rest, beginning to look around
and wonder and admire, a little feeling
of irritation began to grow at his heart.
Why had she come? Had he not made
all comfortable for her at home ? Here
she would be constrained, unnatural.
And Violet. He could picture the astonished look which wouldj creep into
her eyes when he said to her, " This is
my mother;" nay,' more, the haughty
curve which would gather about her
"mouth, so rich and ripe, and sweet.
So the question at his heart found
words, and he scarcely himself knew
the innate irritation they betrayed.
"Mother, why did you not let me
know you were coming?"
" I meant to surprise you, my boy,"
she answered fondly. " Can it be that
I have done wrong?"
"*Nb, no," he hastily replied. "Come,
you must eat and go to bed-. You need
a rest."
But, long after he had bidden her
good-night, he sat and thought.
His mother had come to make her
home with him. This was clear. If he
told her he willed it otherwise, she
would obey him.
For a time he planned it out—how
he would tell her the city life was not
adapted to her needs; and then Violet
need never know of the plain, humble
little woman—who had not shamed to
toil with her own hands that his might
be the hands of a gentleman.
Oh, shame on him! Could he ever
wash them clean, even of the thought?
No, Violet should know the truth! He
could bear the scorn now in her eyes
and in her voice, as she would question
him how dared he look up to her, out
his mother should share his home and
heart to the end.
It was too late now to visit Violet tonight, but he went up-stairs, and, softly
turning the knob of the door of the
room where his mother slept, he noiselessly approached the bed, and, bending down, touched his lips to the old
withered forehead reverently.
She started up, with a glad sob of
joy.»
"My boy! my boy! who I thought
was not glad to see his mother."
He quieted her at last^ wondering
why his own heart felt so light, and she
fell asleep with his hand tightly clasped
in hers.
"You did not come last night," said
A WBMi E©MAM&
Thbbe are 16,000 locomotives in the
United States.
Nebraska has anajea of 75,995 miles,
or 40,636,800 acres.
A county in Texas is said to have
expended last year $3,000 foi preaching,
^100,000 for tobacco, and $300,000 for
whisky.
ViBGiNiA has 675 colored schools,
taught by 415 colored teachers. The
male teacher's salary averages $30 a
month, the female's $24.
The anthracite coal shipments from
Pennsylvania mines for 1879 exceed
25,000,000 tons, against 16,486,000
tons last year, and 19,296,000 tons for
1877.
About 15,000 varieties of colors are
employed by the mosaic workers of
Eome, and each of these varieties has
about fifty shades; so that in all 750,000
tints are afforded, which the artist can
distinguish with the greatest facility.
Even .with this variety the workers find
a lack of tints.
The colonial possessions of Great
Britain embrace about one-third the
surface of the globe, and nearly one-
fourth of its population. The total
area of these possessions is about
7,647,000 English square miles, of which
3,000,000 are in America, 1,000',000 in
Africa, 1,000,000 in Asia, and more
than 2,500,000 in Australia.
In 1878 there were erected in Chicago
1,019 buildings, having a street frontage
of 31,188 feet, and costing $7,419,100; in
1877 there were 1,398 buildings with a
frontage of 35,033 feet, costing $7,552,-
694; in 1876,1,586 buildings (including
sheds) with a slareet frontage of 43,222
feet, and costing $8,270,600. The total
for the past four years is: Number of
buildings, 5,128; street frontage, 27
miles and 338 feet; cost, $29,987,949.
In Philadelphia there are 50,000 men
and women employed in the manufacture of clothing, and 20,000,000 suits
are made there every year. Cutting
machines are finding their way into, all
the large manuf aeturmg establishments.
They ent 1,800 garments in a day of
twelve hours. Button-holes are also
made by machinery at the rate of 150
per hour. One establishment where
these mechanical appliances are used
can turn out 100 suits daily ready for
wear inside of twelve hours.
Iselakd has an area of 32,531 square
miles. In shape it is a rhomboid, the
greater diagonal of which is 300 miles
and the smaller 210 across; greatest
meridianal length, 230 miles; greatest
and smallest breadth, 180 and 110
miles. Its population is now 5,412,377.
The next census will be taken there in
1881. In 1821, when the first complete
census was taken, the population
amounted to 6,801,827; in 1831, to
7,767,401; in 1841, to 8,199,853. The
great decrease from 1841 to 1851,
amounting to about 1,600,000, was due
to the intervening famine and the increasing emigration.
Os* the four Dickens brothers only
one could get along with his wife.
S?2ie Casa of Corporal IPiyor N. ©©Ishosqj
The history of the various trials o£
Pryor N". Coleman, corporal of Company G*, First Tennessee Federal* cavalry, during the war, fos> the murder of
Mourning Ann Bell, alleged to have
been committed on the 7th of March,
1865, is one of the strange romances of
the land. He was charged "with the
offense, tried by court-martial, convicted , of murder in the first degree at
Knoxville, on the 27th of March, 1865,
and sentenced to death hj hanging.
The judgment was approved in due form,
but he escaped from the military authorities and thus defeated the execution of
the death sentence.
Mne years thereafter, when "civil authority had been fully restored in all
the Southern States,' Coleman was arrested, indicted, and tried in the Criminal Court of Knox -county, Tenn., for
the same murder. To theindictment
his counsel pleaded not guilty, and a
former conviction bj a court-martial
ior the same particular offense. A demurrer to the plea was sustained on
the ground—first, because the defendant's conviction by court-martial under
the laws of the United States was not a
bar to an indictment for the same
offense; and, second, because he was also guilty of an offense against the laws
of the State. The trial then proceeded,
and Coleman was again convicted
of murder in the first . degree
for killing Mourning Ann Bell, and
sentenced to death.
An appeal was thence taken to the
Supreme Court of Tennessee, and, after
elaborate argument, the ruling of the
court below and the death sentence
were affirmed. Pending the appeal to
the Supreme Court, a writ of habeas
corpus was applied for to hring Coleman before the Circuit Court of the
United States for the Eastern District
of Tennessee, and his discharge from
the civil authorities demanded on the
ground that he was unlawfully restrained from his liberty by the Sheriff
of Knox county on the charge of murder, beeause ne had been previously
convicted by court-martial for the same
offense under the laws of the United
States. The Circuit Court decided,
that Coleman was held in contravention
of the laws of the United States, and
ordered his release from custody. The
order for his release was ^presented tp
the Supreme,Cpurtrof the State with a
? jnotioH- ios'Mxe filsefeyge of the^risop-
e^'onefdn the SlS.''bf Fe^fu&^l'sST,'**
the court decided that the Federal
courts had no authority to interfere
with the exercise of jurisdiction over
offenses against the laws of the State,
and declared the order of release a
nullity.
The case was then finally appealed to
the Supreme Court of the United
States, where it was argued during the
October term of 1878, and Justice
Field delivered the decision of the
court in June last, pending which Coleman remained in the custody of the
civil authority of Tennessee. The' Supreme Court held that the ruling of the
State Supreme Court must be reversed
and the prisoner discharged from the
keeping of the Sheriff of Knox county;
but, as the record proved that he had
been lawfully convicted by a court-
martial under the laws of the United
States, he must be delivered back to the
military arm of the law, from which he
escaped in 1865, for the execution of
the death sentence. This decision
brought the question of his execution
before President Hayes, and his order
of June 6,1879, directed that, "in consideration of the long delay which has
intervened since the trial," the sentence
should be commuted to imprisonment
for life, and Corp. Pryor N. Coleman is
now in the Albany penitentiary for
penal servitude during the remainder
of his days.
Altogether the case of Coleman is one
of the most remarkable of the many interesting complications in the administration of justice which has arisen during and since the war. One of the peculiar legal romances of the law is in
the fact that, until the issue was finally
brought to the highest judicial tribunal
of the country, where conflicting judgments in lower courts could be Overruled, the prisoner escaped the death
penalty by pleading in the State courts
that he had already been condemned
for the same offense by the military
courts of the United States; in the
Federal District Court he claimed immunity from the judgment of its laws
because he was already condemned in
the State courts.- Between the disputing jurisdictions he saved his life
until time had so softened the hand of
justice as to secure a commutation of
his sentence.
nojse, with aagers^extended, c:ncl add io
tM3 elongation ,with-v the otbss hnmls
there would foe an uproar insfcsitiy.'3
The gentleman acknowledged the force
"of the-Hlustration, and,- wiih .o ss^cl^
for th^ sternal 'fitness-' of' £&£"<, cbove
to.chureh'-thenext Suadciyinarasaaaes
which did not.-cause scandal' or hlti^-so
unneeessEirv isttentibn. '
.^Jae UDasfees^'lDay ©£ ©resales IMez
■ "The darkest day of my life;" se£d' the
General, "was the day_I hecrd of "Lincoln's assassination. I did aot kno^?"
-what it meant. - Herd was the-rebellion
put. down in the field and staining vrp in
the gutters; w© hsA fought it cs W£L\,
and now we had to- fight it as asGGgslna**
tion. Lincoln was killed on the even-
ing of the 14th of April," Les snsr
rendered on the 9th of ApaL I
arrived in-Washington on tha 18th. I
Was busy sending 'out orders to stop
recruiting, the purchase bf -su^plxes^
and to muster out the. army. Lincoln
had promised to'go fe the thestsrj
wanted me to .go with Mea, "W^
was with the  President a' not® o£2&@
CZK&
go -to Burlington
Some 'incident of
■o-
to•see o«n
CJ
120
33.
the Monster's Hlusteatlomo
A gentleman, recently returned from
Europe, settled in a country town, and
scandalized the ru^al and pious inhabitants by driving "a pair of fast horses
tandem to church. Betoonstrances were
of no avail on the part of his fellow-
parishioners, and at last the pastor sent
for the owner of the team, to add his
protests to those of his flock. The
gentleman thought this was unwarrantable interference with his business, and
said he saw no more harm in driving
hie horses in the way which he Had
adopted than in driving them abreast.
" Hold on," said the minister, " and I
will convince you that you are in error.
When I go into the pulpit and put my
hands reverently together for prayer,
the congregation is hushed into silence;
but, if I should put my hand to my
a trifling nafere haci
made her resolve to leave thnt evening.'
I was glad to, have the note9 £31 did.
not want to go to the theater.   Bo I
made my excuse to Lincoln, oad at ih.Q
proper hour, we started Sor the b-cm.
As swe were driving along Pennsylvs&io
avenue a horseman rode by us on a
gallop, and,back again around oar carriage, looking into.it. Mrs. Grant Eaidi
' There is the man who sat neas? us ot
lunch to-day with some other mon and
tried to overheat our conversation. He
was so rade that weleftthedining-qoom,,
Here he is now," .rising: aftm''-m'.IX
thought. it. 'Wm 'dmj 'curiosity, I but
learned' afterward that the .hoi'sensan*
was Booth*. Itseenfa. that I WEsto hate '■
been attacked, andMrs. Gr&nt-'ssm«id,©3i'.
resolve to leave deranged the.plan.   A'
few days later I received ananonymous
letter from a man; saying he had 'been.
detailed to kill me, that he rode oh my
train as far as Havre de Grace, and, __:
my ear was locked, he could not get $$,.
He thanked'God he had failed.   Jt remember that the conductor ldcke'd <ms
car, but how true the letter was 1 cm**
not say.   I learned of the assassinatlca.
as I was passing through PhiladslpH^
.1 turned*"arouni,  took- a spQmsS.fkTAsr,s
and cam§ .on to Washington., xS xsz:'
theglo^rfiiJoqt'c'oTOf m^'.Kfe ^-^ymtki-cZit
' u2rotm€"iTiTw6rld witTiA-&¥a0F^"^
Tie lmm>
This fashion of crimping and curling
the hair of children is positively iniquitous. Wee ereatures of 3 or 4 years,
and even younger, are arrayed in curl
papers by affectionate and admiring
mothers who are bent upon making the
children charming, "and who do not
stop to consider how far they may-be
defeating their own ends by the action,
or how much pain they may be infiiefc-
ing on the objects of their fond solicitude. An authority on that subject
says: "Up to the age of 6 Or 7 children retain what is called their*baby
hair,' whieh is injured, not improved,
by cutting. It is quite different from
the harsher hair which succeeds it. H
the hair curls naturally it looks charming dressed in that fashion, but putting
it in papers is sure to injure it and pufi
it out by the roots. The use of curling
ironsisyet more objectionable; any thiag
that tangles and cuts the hair is bad in
the extreme, and it is to be regretted
that mothers draw so heavily upon the
capital of their childrea's hair, instead
of using the yearly increasing interest
of its beauty and value.'' By keeping
the scalp of the head clean, and the
hair brushed into silky softness, its
beauty can be preserved until lata in
life.
"Brown Paper Against the
The "old woman's" remedy for a
"cold on the chest," a sore throat, or a
bruise, which consisted in an application of brown paper steeped in beer or
vinegar, owed its efficacy to the heat-
retaining properties of the paper. A
Wet pad of this material, as far as the
surface next to the skin was concerned^,
acted almost as well as a layer of wet
linen rag protected with a thick covering of flannel. \ In short, stout paper of
the commonest'sort is an effective nonconductor, and maybe advantageously
employed as covering for beds or to eke
out scanty clothing. A piece of thick
paper inserted between the lining ani.
the cloth of a waistcoat or in the back
of a thin coat will render it warm as
well as light. The- suggestion is a
small one, but it is simple to carry tat©
effect, and will be found effective.
ivity of ©eraaaa $@i,eFat§0~
aan Generals seem to enjoy a
rare longevity. ' Without reckoning
Marshals Von Moltke and Von Boon
there is found in the higher grades of the
army a body of men wrho began their
military careers three-quarters of a eent-
ury ago. Gen. Von Schreihershofen,
bom in 1785, entered the service in
1797, "and, after having risen through
all the intermediate grades in the long
wars which marked the . beginning of
this century, was created a Major General in 1829. On the* 1st of ]*f ovsmbes?
last he celebrated the fiftieth anniver
saryof his elevation to that ™c
To-day, at the green old age of 95,
veteran display is an almost youthfe!
vigor.
Queen  Victobia's  wages
kept down to $5,000 a day.
are