1882-08-17; Saline Observer

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NISSLY & EMMERT, Publisher^
SALINE, WASHTENAW COUNTY, MICHIGAN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 17, 1882.
VOL. II. NO. 40.
BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
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q W. CHANDLER, Iff. D.,
Physician and Surgeon.
All calls promptly attended to.  Office at residence, first doornorth of M. E. Churoh.
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Q  0. JENKINS,
Surgical and Mechanical
DENTIST.
Office, 19 South Main Street, opposite First
National Bank,
-A-im Arbor,   -  Midi.
Jj   P. ITcI^ACHIiAN,
Physician and Surgeon,
-vvOifice aad residence opposite M. E. Church,
Adrian street, Saline, Mich.
%ft JONES & SON,
Attorneys.
All kinds of legal papers neatly and correctly
drawn. Collections made and promptly remitted.  Office on Me Kay street, Saline, Mich.
E.30SES. IFrakkE. Jonbs.
-WM. B. GHJDAKT,
Attorney at Law,
And Justice of the Peace. Office overNIchols
Bro's. 3tore, Chicago street, Saline, Michigan.
TTT E. HXX3SEPHBE-3T,
Real Estate Agent.
Government Lands located. 20,000 acres of
choice wheat lands for sale. Correspondence
solicited.  EUslrary,Barnes.Co.,D.T.
lSOSCEIil^ANEO'D'8.
Mrs. W. F. LA&ZELERE,
The Old and ileiiahle
DRESSMjAKER and CUTTER
Again offers her services to the ladies of
this vicinity.
PRICES S/S-A-SOlSr^uBXjS
aqdSatisfaction Guaranteed.     Shop at
residence on Henry sLreet, west.
CEO^ R. SHERMAN,
The old and reliable
Wagon and Carriage Maker.
Joh work and repairing-promptly done at reas-
onablerates.  Shop on Chicago rit, west.
MYRO'H WEBB,
JUSTICE  OF THE  PEACE,
i And Insurance Agent.
oosvsYAxcisra attesded "jco EROirPTi.Y.
■fecial Attention Given to Collections.
Office 2d door west of the postoffice.
E. A. REYNOLDS,
Notary Public, Real  Estate,
INSURANCE ASD COT-LECTIOX AGENCIT.
•Office over X C. Putnam &Co's. store, Milan,
Mich.   AH business entrusted to me will
receivepniinpr attention.
Patr-oiiiz©     r^a-&    Boys I
HAUSEfFfe CLARK,
Proprietors of
THE NEW LIVERY STABLE,
 At the	
OLD A2EERICAN HOUSE BARE".
THOMAS ECCLES,
The Pioneer
BOOT AND SHOE MAKER,
Is now located in the Burg "building, on
Chicago St., where he will he glad to see all
his old customers and many new ones.
Repairing Neatly and Promptly Done.
W. HELLER & SON.
Horse Shoeing k BlaeksmitMng
Ifyourhorss! forges, interferes or is irregular
in hi3 gait, give us a call and we will regulate hitn s-5 he will not anoy you.
Special Attention Given
To horses Wving weak and diseased feet.
SHOPO^T ANN ARBOB STBSET.
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I have a iu
by a leading
will furnish
CliORCE   EHNIS.
Merchant Tailor and Cutter,
II line of samples of goods earned
eastern Jobbing house, which I
cay customers at
1-1
■WTHCLSSAIjE' PBIOE3-
Ihuymv tr.mmings of jobbers and give my
customers the benefit. Don't buy anything in
the clothing line until you have examined my
samples and got my prices. I will save you
money. All work warranted. Shop over Davenports & Son's store.
A. 8. BECCON. "W. E. JSBSfXJa.
BLITON & IS SELL,
PROPRIETORS OI* THE
Livery, Sale and Feed Stables,
STAGE AM> DRAY JANES,
Office,   South ^ront Street, West Broadway,
■      TOTOK CITY, DAKOTA.
Stages to Ellsbury. Hope and Iiyheck leave
every Ghiesday.   .Land Hunter's Outfits always furnished at reasonable rates,
CfOHATBER & SCHMIDT,
Proprietors of the Union Blocfc
MEAT   IAEKET.
— All kinds of —
MEAT, POULTRY, FISH ETC
At Lowest LlvlngPrfcea.  No. 2, Union Block,
Saline, Mlchl/an.
FIRE, EIRE,  EIRE!
-oOo-
I ;
PAteet yourselves against logsh flee, by
insuring property with
W. H. DAVENPORT, Apt
For the followlnu first-class
companies:
NIAG-ABA, of New York,
CONTINENTAL, of N. Y.,
Detroit FIBE & MARINE
JBSECTS, $6,000,000
Losses Paid Promptly.
RATES AS   LOW AS  ANY
First-class Company.
MY LAST OFFEB.
We had a wedding at our house last night,
"With throng ol guests and maze or flowers;
The rooms were brilliant with their blaze ot
T    light;
In song and feasting passed the hours.
My little nephew, four years and a half,
Bewildered, glad and wonder-eyed,
Saw all the glitter, heard the song and laugh.
And ate unwonted sweets beside.
Next day he pendered much, as wise folks do,
Then craved ol me a little boon;
"AnnS Jeanie, why don't you get married, too?
I hope you'll do it very soon.*!
"Bear child, I said, and stroSed his curly head,
"You would not wish It if you knew
That I must go away if I should wed,
Instead of living here with you."
His face grew grave, for he had only thought
Of wedding cakes and ices sweet;
But, if with loss of Auntie it were bought,
The feast would be a doubtful treat.
He-claspediny neck and kissed me on the
cheek;
Then said the loving little elf,
"Aunt Jeanie, don't get married till next week,
And I will marry you myself."
O. M. St. Denis, in our Continent.
COUSIN JACK. •
BY FLORA MCIBEK.
'Young ladies, attention! The mail
s about to arrive.'
The arrival of the mail is a great
event at Hillside, and four interested
faces are turned toward the speaker
of the above sentence, as she walks
quickly through the gate and stands
looking up the road. It is a wooded
country, and the road is only visible
for a. few rods, but wheels are heard,
and soon the expected vehicle comes
insight. A coach and four? Oh, no!
not even, an express; only farmer Jones,
in his open -wagon, drawn by a sturdy,
but not elegant, horse.
Earnier Jones allows his wife to take
'Summer boarders,' and even is willing
to drive two miles to the little village
of Millforth to do errands and get the
mail once a day. Now he sees Bess
standing by the road, and he stops just
long enough to give her a letter, and
utter a laconic 'Only one this time,'
thea drives on toward the barn.
Bess returns to the group of girls
beneath the pine trees, and mounting
an old stump, amid a chorus of 'Only
one?' 'Is it for me?' 'Or for me?'
from the girls, holds the letter high
above her head.
'How much am I offered for this letter, ladies and—pine trees? Bare
chance! Last of the lot! Positively to
be sold to lowest bidder !'„ and, with a
lively, professional air, and a merry
twinkle iu her black eyes, she looks
from one to another of the members of
her audience.
'I don't wish for it. I have more letters now than I care to answer.' So
says the graceful girl in the hammock,
while Madge and Lucy bid a half cent
each.
'One cent!' cries Lucy.
'Two cents!' from Madge.
These two bid quickly against each
other, one cent at a time, until they
stop from sheer lack of breath, Lucy's
'twenty five' being heard last.
'Only twenty-five cents,' says the
brisk auctioneer. " Going to Miss
Lucy Danforth for less than half price,
beautiful penmanship; sealed with a
wafer. Here's your chance, Prue, before they catch their breath,' in confidential aside; then, in most persuasive
accents, 'give me twenty-six, only
twenty-six cents.'
'Twenty-six,' says Prue, quickly,
thinking it. must be for her.
'Going, going, gone. To Prue Matthews, for twenty-six cents;' says the
rapid auctioneer, tossing the letter into
Prue's lap.
'Why, Bless,'and there is reproach,
as well as surprise, in Prue's voice,'it's
for Isabel, after all!   How could you—'
'Hush, dear; I didn't say it was
yours,' interrupts Bess. 'And we really must have that tsventy-Bix cents.
"We'll give an oyster supper by the light
of the moon.'
Isabel languidly receives the letter,
and reclining in her hammock again,
proceeds to read it. Meanwhile let us
take a glance at this pleasant group of
girls beneath the pine trees. Eirst,
Bees, who now uses as a seat what
was late her 'stump,' as auctioneer. She
is gently picking up pine needles, and
tossing them from her in an apparently aimless way. "Very meditative, almost pensive, are her attitude and expression, but in reality she is thinking:
•I'd like to do something to stir these
girls up. It's so stupid to vegetate
here day after day,' and every pine
needle accomplishes it3 mission by bewildering more and more a very much
bewildered black ant, which is running
franticly about. Not thatBess is cruel,
but she must be constantly in motion;
she is slender and active, graceful, too.
Her features may not be as regular a3
beauty demanda, but no one ever criticises them, for the merry black eyes
and laughing mouth make hers a face
that defies calm criticism. She is a
lively girl, thoughtless, but kind-hearted, a little given to slang in speech,
but really intelligent and well read.
Madge and Lucy are bright, pleasant
girls, not very original, but always
ready ta follow Bessie's lead in any
plans for fun or amusement. They are
twins, and very similar in personal appearance. With fresh complexions,
blue eyes, and brown hair; they are
comely damsels.
Prue is the quiet one of the party.
She sits a little apart from the others,
with a large book spread open upon her
lap and a tiny plant in her hands. She
is evidently deeply interested in the
study of botany. Her face is a sweet,
thoughtful one; round, almost childish
in outline, but womanly in expression;
and her head is crowned with a mass
of golden hair. Her large, hazel eyes
have a way of opening very wide when
she hears a joke or a pun, for Prue can
not make jokes or puns; and, though
ready to laugh at another's wit, is always surprised thereby. In fact, she
is some time in discovering 'the point,'
and Bess is forced to explain some of
her jokes, if she wishes Prue to understand them.
These four; girls were friends at
school, and have always spent their
vacations together. To be sure, it is
several years since they left school, but
they still spend their summers in company with each other. Pme teaches
school; the others 'just live at home,'
as Bess says.
Isabel Harlow is a friend of Mrs.
Jones, the good lady of the house. She
is a 'society girl/ but finds a summer
of complete rest and quiet needful to
her tired nerves. She did. not know
the other girls before meeting them
here, but she is gracious to them, for
she finds their company much more
agreeable than absolute solitude would
be. She is stylish and very pretty, very
captivating some folks find her, while
others say that there is a gleam to the
large, dark eyes that is not exactly
amiable, and a sarcastic curve to the
beautiful mouth that is not exactly
agreeable. Be that as it may, Isabel
makes a very pretty picture, as she
swings gracefully to and fro Id her
hammock. ISTow she has finished reading her letter. Bess, who has kept still
longer than usual, fires the last needle
at the wandering ant, springs to her
+'eet and says: 'Well, Isabel, was it
worth twenty-six cents ?'
Isabel's languid tones reply: '25To; it
was only from Cousin Jack.'
'Only from Cousin Jackf echoes
Bess. 'How delightful to have a Cousin Jack. I wish I had a Cousin Jack.
Is he lively? Can't you import him?
I shall die if something lively don't
turnup soon.'
'I might import him.' He wishes to
find a quiet place in which to spend his
vacation,' returns Isabel in a meditative way. 'How would you like it
girls?'
'Of course we'd like it immensely.
We'll rest him; we'll pet him; we'll
feed him with taffy within an inch of
his life; we'll—what else will we do,
girls ?' and Bess turns to the others.
'Is he real jolly ?' asks Madge.
'Is he handsome?' asks Lucy.
'Now Prue,' says Bess, bowing to
Prue with a fine master-o£-ceremonies
air.
' Would he like to come where there
are so many girls and no gentlemen?'
questions Prue, hardly takitg her eyes
from her book, and thinking :• 'Oh, dear,
here is an end of my good times, they'll
all flirt with him, and they 'won't care
for botanizing a bit.' For Prue never
flirted, she could not, she took too sober
a view of life's solid materials to have
any interest in the f ro3ting.
'Tou have the floor Miss Harlow;
please tell us about Cousin Jack,' quoth
Bess, resuming her seat on the stump.
'There is not much to tell. He is a
nice, intelligent young man. He is
lively' and 'handsome,' and I suppose
you would call him real jolly, Madge.
The only objection you could possibly
have to him is this: He makes puns,
which I know you do not consider an
intellectualstyle of conversation/looking at Bess half-severely, half-humo-
rously.
But Bess turns to Prue, with sweet
innocence, and says: 'She means you,
Prue, my dear.'
Prue looks up with wide-eyed wonder, while IsabeTcontinuesL'I think
you would all like him; that is, if you
care to have any gentleman here,' as if
all gentlemen in particular, and the
whole world in general, were a matter
of supreme indifference to her. But
she is thinking to herself: 'Jack and I
were always good friends, and it would
be decidedly nice to have a beau all to
myself, while these other girls have
none.'
'Of course we want a gentleman here.
Girls always like to have gentlemen
around, if they'd say "so,' says Bess,
with a sharp look at Isabel. She continues, 'JS"ow, I am dying to see Cousin
Jack. I begin to love him now.' But
the other girls are not quite as enthusiastic.
'He wants to come very soon, so we
must decide. I, for one, would like to
see him very well. Perhaps you would
like to let him speak for himself,' and
Isabel looks her letter over, attentive-
iy-
Bess answers, 'Oh, do readhis letter:
is it tender and touching?'
'I couldn't think of reading that part,
you know, but here is a characteristic
bit. He says: 'Now do answer a fellow soon for once. Writing to you is
usually like dropping somethinginto a
well. Tou hear the 'chub-bunk;' you
know it reached its destination, but
that's all the good it does you, for you
must fish for it if you want it again.
So I hear through your father, or some
one, that you 'had a letter from Jack,'
but I must fish for a reply. Now, you
know, you don't want to be a well, 'tis
not well tor- Are you deep enough to
fathom the reason ? A well is deceitful, dreadfully so. Why, even 'truth
lie3 in a well' 'tis said.' That is a fair
sample of his nonsense. Tou see I
must answer soon. Isabel folds her
letter amid the appl.-useof her audience.
'Put it to vote,' crirs Bess, springing
to her feet again, 'aye and nay vote.
All in favor of permitting our dear
Cousin Jack to rusticate in this sylvan
retreat, say 'aye'.'
All say 'aye,'even Prue, who does
not wish to be disobliging.
'Contrary minded, 'nay,' or forever
after hold their peace.' Dead silence
ensues.
'Ic is a vote,' declares Bess.
Prue returns to her botany with a
sigh, and the thought that Harry will
be left to her, at least. Harry is tho
eight-year old brother of the twins. He
and Prue have formed a 'protective
league.' He is always ready to take
long botanic expeditions with Prue,
while she is pledged to pay him, by an
hour of her time, for each such favor.
These hours he requires her to spend,
chiefly, playing in the brook with him.
Prue is not amphibious by nature, but
s"he is an enthusiast on the subject of
botany, and cannot persuade the girls
to take long walks, neither does she
dare go alone; hence her ready desire'
for this 'protective league.'
Bess, who is determined that no time
shall be lost, hurries Isabel into the
house to see if Mrs. Jones will be as
willing to have 'Cousin Jack' come as
the girls are.
The house is an old one. It was
built in the days before the Revolution,
and still stands, square and firm, with
stout timbers and gigantic chimney.
Proudly it faces the south, as if it ignored the humble additions of L part and
sheds in the rear. These latter were
built by a later generation, as was the
large barn, which is reached by a tired-
looking branch from the main road.
In front of the house stretch the
cleared acre3 of farm land; while behind, and to the east, the pine woods
rise dark and solemn against the sky.
Between the house and the road, which
runs on the east side, are a few noble
pine trees scattered over what the
good folks of the house call the 'front
yard,' but the boarders dignify it with
the name of 'lawn.' Here the girls
love to spend their time. Prue, with
her botany before her; Madge and
Lucy crocheting endless 'fascinators;'
Isabel reading, while she swings in her
hammock; and Bess doing whatever
her busy br'iin suggests at the time'
and keeping the others from going to
sleep by her lively conversational powers.
And here they are all assembled, just
a week from the day upon which
'Cousin Jack's' letter arrived.   Three
o'clock approaches, and 'now sits expectation in the air,' quotes Bess, as
she looks eagerly up the road. 'Lo!
there it comes/ she continues.
The girls look quickly at the approaching figure. It is not 'Cousin
Jack/ but Harry. The boy is much
spattered with mud, and he runs to
Prue, crying: 'O Miss Prue! won't
you come and help me on my dam? It
gives way every time just because
there's no one to help me. You know
you owe me an hour.'
'Why, Harry/ replies Prue, 'don't
you see I'm dressed in my best white
dress ?'
'But you know you said you'd come
some time to-day.'
'Don't you see/ puts in Bess, 'that
we are all waiting for our dear Cousin
Jack? I'm surprised at you, child!
Prue has promised to stay here, too,
and a hard time I had to persuade her
to change her dress in honor of Cousin Jack's arrival.'
Harry looks at Prue, who says: Yes,
I must stay here now, but after he
comes I'll go down just a minute to
help you.'
'With that dress on?'- questions Isabel.
'Oh! she wouldn't catch a speck of
dirt if she lived in a coal yard/ Bess
says.
'0 Harry! what afrght you are! Do
run of£ out of sight/ cries Madge. So
Harry disappears quickly.
Now the sound of an approaching
carriage causes the girls to look up tlie
wooded road again in eager expectation. And surely there is farmer
Jones, but alas! he is alone. The girls
troop down to the gate, as he approaches, to see if he brings any news of the
expected guest.
[TO BE CONTINUED."]
-   Harry's Earnings.
No boy or man either, in all the
country, was more ready and willing to
help the needy than Harry Gray. One
day he came to his uncle with an anxious look on his face, and said :
a "Uncle, can you help a poor man who
lives down in the village ? He is very
sick and entirely destitute."
"No," said his uncle, gruffly. "1
haven't anj money to spare."
Harry looked disappointed. After a
moment he said hesitatingly, ""Uncle,
ITd like to earn some money."
"Well," ^aid his uncle, looking up
from his paper, "I told you I would
give you three cents for every wheelbarrow load of stones you carted away
from the hill, but you did not want to
do it."
"I will do it now, if I may," said
Harry.
"Very good; you may begin as soon
as you like," said his uncle.
Harry jumped up, and ran out to find
the wheelbarrow. Picking up stones
was dull work, yet he set about it as
eagerly and merrily as if he loved it.
He wheeled the great barrow up the
hill, and began to fill it with stones
singing as gaily as a lark. The summer
sun grew warm, and Harry's shoulders
began to ache, but with a bright smile
on his face, he said to himself, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of
the least of these my brethren, ye have
done it unto me." That was the secret
of Harry's readiness for this work; he
was determined to earn eighteen cents,
so he tugged away at the heavy stones
until the six loads were rolled down the
hill.
Harry went home with that same
happy look on his face, and said,
"Aunty, will you give me a loaf of
bread?"
"To take to that sick man?"
"Yes."
"But you are too tired to go with it
now."
"O, no; I can go. Please let me have
a little pitcher, too."
"What do you want that for?"
"I'll bring it back safely," said Harry, coloring a little.
So aunty gave it to him, for she loved
the little motherless boy.
Eirst he went to find his uncle, who
gave him the eighteen cents. Then
he went to the village grocery store
and bought a little paper of sugar, a
small package of tea, and pitcher full
of milk. If ever there was a happy
little boy it was Harry Gray, as he
walked up the village street, holding
fast to his precious packages.
He reached a forlorn, wooden house,
and knocked at the door. "Come in,"
said a feeble voice. Harry went in,
and there on the bed lay the sick man
for whom he was looking.
"I have brought you something, because some one told me you were in
want," he said gently.
"God bless you, boy!" said the sick
man; "I have not tasted a mouthful
to-day!" Just then a woman came in.
"See Mary," said he, "God has sent us
food at last;" and the woman took
Harry's hands in hers, and the. tears
poured down her face as she asked the
dear Father in heaven to bless him.
Harry lay down upon his bed that
night a little weary boy; but do you
think he was sorry he had worked so
hard for his Saviour?—Little Sower:
Small Savings.
The man who saves something every
year is on the road to prosperity. It
may not be possible to save much. If
not save a little. Do not think that a
dollar or a dime is too small a sum to
lay by. Everybody knows how little
expenditures get-away with large sums.
But few seem to know that the rule is
one that works both ways. If a dime
spent here and a dollar there soon makes
a large hole in a man's income, so do
dimes and dollars laid away soon become a visible and respectable accumulation. In this country any man may
make himself independent, or keep himself under the harrow for life, according
as he wastes his small change. How
many things do individuals and families
buy that they do not need or cannot
afford? Think twice before you spend
that small coin. Do not be stingy or
mean, but also do not be foolishly self-
indulgent. The aelf-indulgent person
is far more likely to become ungenerous than the self-denying one. The
money wasted on hurtful things alone
—the medicines and drugs *we mingle
with our diet in the form of tea, tobacco,
alcohol and the like—stand on the very
threshold of prosperity and bar the way
of thousands to a home in their old age.
The best portion of a man's life is
that devoted to little, nameless, unre-
membered acts of kindness and love.
Abraham Lincoln's Year «i Insanity.
In 1S32, at the ago of 23, Abraham
Lincoln was the owner of a farm seven
miles north  of New  Salem, and the
half owner of the largest in the place.
At this time he met with Miss Ann
Butledge.   Two well-to-do gentlemen
of the place—Hill and McNeil—were
courting her with devoted assiduity;
she decided in favor of the latter.   He
parted with her early in 1832 to visit
his father in New York, promising to
return at a given day, and make her
his own.   She watched him ride away
on Old Charley, an antiquated animal
that had seen hard usage in the Black
Hawk  war, and  that jogged  slowly
along the bad roads to New York.
Then there came a letter telling of sickness in the family which forbade his
return at the appointed time.   This
was followed by other postponements,
until years rolled by.   The unaccountable delay, the infr«|uency of hisletters,
and his failure to give a reasonable explanation for his postponements finally
lessened her attachment  and made
frightful inroads upon her health. She
only waited to sec him in order to ask
a release from her engagement, and to
let him know that she preferred another and more urgent suitor, whose name
was Abraham Lincoln.   During three
years young Lincoln visited Miss Butledge two or three times a week, first
as a friend in quest of congenial company, and finally as  a suitor for  her
hand.   She was a great favorite in the
village, loved by all who knew her. She
was probably the most refined woman
to whom Mr. Lincoln at that time had
ever spoken.   He was always welcomed by her father and mother.   Th9 latter he always calle<|"Aunt Polly" in
his familiar   way.   Both father and
mother entertained for him a deep affection, and though they never openly
expressed  themselves in regard    to
Ann's choice of" a husband, yet they
would, without doubt, have rejoiced
to receive the manly Abe Lincoln into
their family.   He lighted up their home
with a cheerful glow whenever he entered, and he gave a pleasant flow of
mirth and joy to their "Conversation.
Ann's relatives were all united in encouraging the suit,  which the young
man pressed with great, earnestness,
but she firmly insisted that her honor
demanded her to wait until she could
be released from her first engagement
before she.made a second.   In 1835 she
and Lincoln were formally and solemnly betrothed, but she asked to wait another year, hoping that McNeil would
return and that she might release herself  from her engagement  to him.
Weeks and months passed and he returned not.   While  she was waiting,
Lincoln was studying night and day to
make himself more worthy of   Ann,
and while he was growing in mind and
body and  daily developing the  great
intellect that was to lit him to lead a
mighty nation through the fierce struggles of war, Ann was hourly fading
away.   In August 1S35, she died, as
her physicians said, of brain fever, but,
as her neighbors believed, of the long
series of bitter disappointments and
the pangs inflicted upon her heart and
mind in striving to do right in regard to
two lovers to whom she had pledged
her hand.   Ann was buried at the little
cemetery at New-Salem, and as the
future President stood over her green
grave with streaming eyes, he said:
"My heart lies buried here."   After
the burial he began to  exhibit that
deep  vein of   gloom and sadness  so
of ten noticeable in his conduct while
President.   He  lost all   self-control,
and every friend he ha'd in New Salem
pronounced him insane.- He was constantly   watched, and with especial
vigilance, says one of  his neighbors,
"during storms, fogs,  and damp or
gloomy weather for fear of an accident."   At such time he would rave
piteously, saying, among other wild expressions, '-"I can never be reconciled
to have the. snow, rain and storms to
beat upon her grave." His friends finally succeeded in securing  him in a log
hut a liitle ways from town, where he
was watched over with anxious solicitude for a few  months, until he  appeared to be restored to his reason, but
the traces of sadness always lingered
in his character.   He visited the cemetery daily and wept over her grave.
At this time he was heard frequently
to repeat a few lines of that poem he
so often recited in after years, entitled,
"Why should the spirit of mortal  be
proud?" Some nights as he left the
grave of Ann Butledge he was heard
to murmur  portions of   it.   On  the
night of March 22, 1S64, as he sat in
the White House, he dropped'his pen,
turned from his letters, and with half
closed eyes repeated it entire to  a
friend.
♦ :	
Hints to Both Sexes.
London Troth.
The gilded youth of the day wear exceedingly tight trousers, well-defined
waists, slightly suggestive of corsets,
hats with curved brims, very light ties,
and a white flower placed very near
their estimable chins. Their boots
taper at the toes to points so sharp as
to defy nature and encourage chiropodists.
Ladies who adopt the straight skirt
with no trimming, save a rather aggressiveruflle at the edge, should remember that this style of dress displays to' advantage or otherwise the
"action" of the limbs. I had ,no idea
until recently how many of my fair
countrywomen were knock-kneed. And,
ah me! how very few of them walk
well! Will no professor arise and teach
them that graceful, gliding motion
that to some women come by nature?
He could show them how to avoid
walking as though with each step the
entire weight of the body was transferred from one foot to the other; and he
might impress upon his pupils that it is
much less fatiguing to walk well than
to lounge and lurch along as some of
our best-born maidens do.
Some other philanthropic person
might establish classes for the propagation of the Ornamental art of holding a parasol properly. He might point
out that it is unnecesary to prop up the
right elbow with the left hand when
the parasol is held open, or, when shut,
to carry it as if it were a baby. It
must not be held too high up the handle, for in this case the points threaten
the eyes of- passers. And, again, it
should not be held too near the end, for
this has an awkward a'spect, causing
the parasol to totter and wobble uneasily, after the fashion of the crino-
lette.
The Baby's Photograph.
Detroit irreo rrosa.
They were getting the baby's picture
taken, and while the operator was ma-
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nipulating the impression among his
chemicals, the baby's attendants were
waiting in the ante-room discussing
the probability of the artist doing full
justice to his subject; there was a baby
to begin with—the brightest, sweetest,
handsomest baby in the world—its
father and mother very young and very
proud of baby; its grandmother, who
never took her eyes from its angelic
countenance; its uncle, and aunts, and
cousins, and several unrelated personages, to whom the great privilege of
seeing baby have its first picture taken
was vouchsafed. When the photograph man came out of his den very
much smirched, with a piece of black
glass in his hand, with several spots on
it intended for eyes, nose and mouth,
and a pudgy outline of round cheeks,
each one gazed at it with awe and admiration.
"So like the little darling!"
"The sweetest thing I ever saw."
"Isn't it perfectly wonderful, his
very expression—so wise and—and—
sensible!"
"One dozen, cabinet size!" said the
young father in a business like tone.
He could have hugged the photographer, the baby, and the company, he was
so happy and proud; but a man does
not like to express all he thinks, so he
kept within bounds.
Then they squeezed the baby several
hundred times, and put on his cloak
and mittens and a comforter, and more
comforters, and an afghan and leggings,
and when he looked like a little Esquimau they all filed after him, one with
his carriage cushions, another carrying
his toys, and all the rest with some-
badge of slavery that belonged to him.
And who, seeing them, could help saying. "It's love, love, that makes the
world go round.
A Business Spell.
Two or three years ago there lived in
the lower oil country a prominent oil
producer who was a notoriously bad
speller. In a letter, among other errors,
he spelled water with two t's. A party
of gentlemen were discussing this peculiarity in the bar-room of the Collins
House, Oil City, one evening, when the
poor speller himself chanced to come
in.
"Hello!" said one of the party, a corpulent gentleman, now remotely connected with the New York Petroleum
Exchange, "we were just talking about
you/'
"Is that so ?" was the reply. "What
were you saying?"
"Why, some of the boys claim that
you are the worst speller in seventeen
states."
^ "They do. I think I can spell it
a*>out as well as the average producer." *
"I'll tell you what I'll do with $>i,"
said the first speaker. "I'll bet the
champagne for the party that you can't
spell water."
"All right," replied the producer,
and he proceeded to spell the word,
w-a-t-e-r."
"That's the way I spell water for
money," he quietly remarked, "but
when I spell it for fun I sometimes use
twofs."
The corpulent gentleman paid for the
wine, and the silence became so great
that you could hear a house fall down.
—Bradford News.
THE STEAMBOAT'S BIRTHDAY. I with  convulsions.     Physicians.,  who
—— j were hastily summoned, declared that
Seventy-Fifth Anniversary of
Mania for Marking Clothes.
"The most quiet, unobstrusive* man
I ever knew," said Buck Bramel to a
Boomerang man,- "was a young fellow
who went into North Park in an early
day from the Salmon Eiver. He was
always reserved and taciturn among
the miners and never made any suggestions if he could avoid it. He was also
the most thoughtful man about other
people's comfort I ever knew.
"I went into the cabin one day where
he was lying on the bed, and told him
I had decided to go into Laramie for a
couple of weeks to do some trading. I
put my valise down on the floor and
was going out, when he asked me if
my clothes were marked. I told him
that I never marked my clothes. If
the washerman wanted to mix up my
wardrobe with that of a female seminary, I would have to stand it, I supposed.
"He thought I ought to mark my
clothes before I went away, and said he
would attend to it for me. So he took
down his revolver and put three -shots
through the valise.
"After that a coolness sprang up between' us and the warm friendship that
had existed so long was more or less
busted. After that he marked a man's
clothes over in Leadville in the * same
way, only the man had them on at the
time. He seemed to have a mania on
that subject, and as they had no insanity experts at Leadville in those days,
they thought the most economical way
to examine his brain would be to hang
him and then send the brain to the
Iowa University in a baking powder
can.
"So they hung him one night to the
bough of a sighing mountain pine.
"The autopsy was, of course, crude,
but they sawed open his head and
scooped out the brain with a long ^handled spoon and sent it on to the University. By some mistake or other it got
mixed up witli some sample specimens
of ore from "TheBrindleTomCat" discovery and was sent to the assayer in
New York instead of the Insanity
Smelter and Refiner at Iowa City, as
was intended.
"The result was that the assayer
wrote a very touching and grieved letter to the boys, saying that he was an
old man any way and he wished they
would consider his gray hairs and not
try to palm off their old groceries on
him. He might have made errors in
his assays, perhaps, all men were more
Or less liable to mistakes, but he flattered himself that he could still distinguish
between a piece of blossom rock and a
can of decomposed lobster salad, even
if it was in a oaking powder can. He
hoped they would not try to be facetious
at his expense any more, but use him
as they would like to be treated themselves when they got old and began to
totter down towards the silent tomb."
That is why we never knew to a
dead moral certainly whether he was
O. K. in the upper story or not.—Boomerang.
In a recently published letter of Ma-
eaulay, the historian says of William
Penn: "I think Penn a poor, shallow,
half-crazy creature"
The
Fulton's Triumph.
Just three-quaaters of a century ago
the 7th of August, Eobert Fulton of
New York city presented to the world
what has been fitly called the grandest
invention of modern times—the steamboat. It was on the morning of the 7th
of August, 1807, that the ship Clermont,
fitted up with paddle-wheels and carrying an engine—one of the very few
then in the country—lay in the North
Biver, nearly opposite what is now
Fulton street, awaiting, amid the jeering of the crowds on the shore, the signal to show the world the triumph of
the master mind that conceived it.
It is now a familiar story how a few
minutes after the boat got under weigh
some disarrangement of the machinery
caused her to stop, how the shouts of
the multitude, which had begun to subside into exclamations of amazement,
broke forthwith redoubled vigor; how
even the most faithful and sanguine
friends of the great inventor, then lost
heart and begged him to give up the
enterprise, but how he, knowing as he
did every nut and bolt in the whole machinery, saw that the disarrangement
was trivial, and repairing it with his
own hands, in a few minutes proceeded
on his wondrous journey.
He arrived at Livingston Manor at
one o'clock that same night, and starting thence early in the morning reached
Albany at five o'clock in the afternoon,
accomplishing the whole distance at an
average speed of five miles per hour.
Tho return trip occupied about thirty
hours. In size, the Clermont was equal
to a large steam yaeht of to-day. The
news of Fulton's accompb'shment reached New York before he did, and on his
arrival he found an ovation awaiting
him. Never was there a greater turning
of public feeling in a single day. Before he was looked upon as a lunatic,
jeered at in the streets and derided by
the newspapers. From that day he was
a popular man in the strongest sense of
the word. At the time of the great
triumph, Peter Cooper was an apprentice boy, Thurlow Weed was a cabin
boy on a Hudson Biver sloop, and Chas.
O'Connor was a prattling child of three
years.
In a recent interview, Mr. Thurlow
Weed described his feelings of wonder
and awe when he first saw the Clermont steaming up the river with its
unboxed paddle-wheels scattering. the
water in every direction, and the burning pine brands being belched from its
smoke-stack to a height of twenty feet
or more, and then falling hissing into
the river. He also told of the man who
thought to prove the superiority of
muscle oversteam by substituting negro
power and a crank for steam power and
a walking beam, and of his inglorious
defeat in a race with the steamboat.
* ■ * * * * "Mr
Fulton/' said he, "was much better remunerated for his achievements than
most inventors, for he was granted the
monopoly of steam navigation on the
Hudson Biver for thirty years, and al
though the grant was declared unconstitutional after a while, it was not before he and his company had made a
vast sum of money out of it. At the
time that Mr. Fulton was building the
Clermont I had invented an apparatus
for using the tide force on the river to
compress air, and had built a model
showing how the compressed air could
be used to propel ferry boats across the
river. Mr. Fulton came to see my invention, but I was only a poor apprentice boy at the time and I suppose he
did not think me of much account. At
any rate, after merely glancing over the
model which had cost me so much toil
he went off without saying a word as
to its merits. I felt hurt, and perhaps
I have never looked upon Mr. Fulton
with so much admiration as I would
have done if he had been more considerate of my feelings at that time. But
"for all that the steamboat is a great invention, and I would be glad to see its
seventy-fifth anniversaay celebrated."
Several New York gentlemen now
propose to erect a memorial to Fulton,
whose remains repose humbly in the
southwest corner of Trinity church
burial-ground.
Uncle Tom a Myth.
From the Indianapolis Times.
Dear Sik: In reply to your inquiries, I will say that the character of
Uncle Tom was not the biography of
any one man. The first suggestion of
it came to me in Walnut Hills, Ohio. I
wrote letters formy colored cook to her
husband, a slave in Kentucky. She
told me that he was so" faithful his
master trusted him to come alone and
unwatched to'Cincinnati to market his
farm produce. Now this, according to
the laws of Ohio, gave the man his freedom, since if any master brought or
sent his slave into Ohio he became free
de facto. But she said her husband
had given his word as a Christian to
his master that he would not take advantage of the law—his master promising him his freedom. Whether he
ever got it or not I know not.
It was some four or five years after,
when the Fugitive Slave Law made
me desirous of showing what
slavery was, that I conceived the plan
of writing the history of a faithful
Christian slave. After I had begun
the autobiography of Josiah Henson,
and introduced some of its most striking incidents into my story, the good
people of England gave my simple,
good friend Josiah enthusiastic welcome as the Uncle Tom of the story,
though he was alive and well, and likely long to live, and the Uncle Tom of
the story was buried in a martyr's
grave. So much in reply to your in
quiries. I trust this plain statement
may prevent my answering any more
letters On this subject.
Truly yours,
Saco, Me., July 27.   H. B. Stowe,
he had beenpoisoned.They administered
antidotes, but the child again went into
convulsions,and it was only after three
.days incessant labor that the physicians
saved his life. The child's wealthy
parents afterwards had the physicians *
investigate the manner of its being
poisoned. They discovered that the
dye with which the brightly colored
book was covered contained the poison.
In wetting the paints on the book cover
the child had innocently wet the dye
also, and soon transferred some of the
poison to its lips. There was a comical side to the" investigation, although
it was no consolation to the parents—
the book was found to be a report of
the Society of the Prevention of Cruelty
o Children.
—■ -■»-—:	
Mr. Wor Ws Slow Eecovery from tlie'*'
Bite of One ot His Curiosities
.Mr.'E. M. Worth, proprietor of a
museum in the Bowery, who was bitten
several weeks ago by one of a collection
of rattlesnakes which he was feeding,
is still at Bellevue Hospital. He was
thoroughly infected by the poison, and
has had a hard time of it since he has
been in the hospital, but he is now considered well nigh recovered. For a
time at the hospital he seemed to be
doing well, but about the ninth day
after the bite his arm swelled to a
frightful size, and his temperature rose
to 106 degrees. He had drank a pint
of whisky, to which he was unaccustomed, immediately on being bitten,
and at the hospital four ounces of
whisky daily was injected .under the
skin, over his stomach. When, on the
ninth day after his misfortune his arm
swelled, and his fever became so high
it was thought that he could not' live..
The wound made by the snake in his
thumb was kept open, and was allowed
to bleed as much as it would, but this
afforded him no material relief. But
on the evening of the day named he
;was taken with bleeding at the nose.
He bled very copiously, and experienced
relief from that time. The swelling of
his. arm speedily disappeared; and his
fever left him/ The wound in his
thumb, however, became very bad, and
after a while gangrene set in. The
surgeons decided that it would be necessary to amputate the thunab, and
this was done ten days ago.
The thumb was amputated - at the
lower joint, where the flesh was still
healthy, the gangrene extending only
to the first joint. The flesh has now
closed over the "'bone, so that scarcely
so much of it is exposed as would be
covered by a No. 1 shot. The patient
has grown strong, and has gained perhaps twenty pounds of flesh since the
amputation. He had become very much
reduced. He has been up and walked
about the ward. His appetite has been
good, and to-day he will go out for the
first time.
Explosion of Steamer Gold Dust.
Poison in Book Covers.
Albany Press.
The use of poisonous dying to color
the* covers of books is happly not a
common practice. Yet book publishers
are occasionally careless about the materials used in coloring their books.
Lately in Troy a child, while playing
with some water-color paints, looked
about for a palette, and seized a small
book, attracted by the bright green
color on the cover. He mixed the
paint on the cover of the book for some
time.   Then he was   suddenly taken I soons,
Later particulars from the scene of
the explosion change somewhat the
first accounts of the disaster. The
number of passengers aboard the Gold
Dust at the time of the explosion is
now known to have been 106. Of
these 64 were brought up on the steamer City of Alton. Thirteen are known
to be dead, 12 are badly injured and
were left at Hickman, and 17 are missing. Four wounded persons were left"
in this city, while those on the Alton
were taken on to St. Louis. Of those
left here one deck hand'nained Jourdan
has since died. The body of Wm. In-
graham, who was killed by the explo-
sion,[while being taken to the steamer
Alton at Hickman, met with as"ad4uis-
hap. The team ran away, fatally injuring a man named Gardiner.
The cause of the explosion seems to
beamystery. Engineer Powers,states
that at the time of the accident he had
just looked at th<j steam-gauge^ which
registered 140 pounds. The boat was
allowed 166 pounds. Hehad just tried
the water-gauge. The water was flush
with the upper coek. He was in the
blatksmith shop and intended to blow
out the mud drug. There were two
explosions in quick succession. "One
boiler remained ia place, one went off
and stuck endup through the cabin
floor, and the third stopped in the engine room and lay with one end on each
engine.
The Gold Dust was built in 1878 at
a cost of $59,000, and was considered in
excellent condition. And the time of
the disaster she was valued at §35,000,
and will be a total loss, as there was
no insurance. She belonged to the
Anchor line company, which has never
before had an explosion during the 23
years of its existence. jEhe books being
lost the names of the missing -are unknown. Search is being made for their
bodies.
Flies and the Castor Oil Plant
Observations made by M. Bafiord, a
member of the Societe d' Horticulture
at Limoges, show that a castor oil
plant (Ricinus communis) having been
placed in a room infested with flies,
they disappeared as by enchantment.
Wishing to ascertain the cause, he soon
found under the castor oilplant a number of dead flies, while a large number
of bodies remained clinging to the under surface of the leaves. It would,
therefore, appear that the leaves of the
castor oil plant give out an essential
oil or some toxic principle which possesses strong insecticide qualities. Castor oil plants are in France very much
used as ornamental plants in rooms,
and they resist well variations of atmosphere and. temperature. As the
castor oil plant is much grown and
cultivated in all gardens, the Journal
d'Agriculture points out that it would
be worth while to try decoctions of the
leaves to destroy the green flies and
other insects which in summer are so
destructive to plants and fruit trees.
The plant is also common enough in
this country, and readers can therefore
readily test the accuracy of these
French reports,
The Japanese government contemplates a submarine cable from Japan to
Corea and the authorities have ordered
from Japanese foundries the necessary
machinery for casting, type for print-
iug-
Cyclones usually occur toward' the
end of spring and in autumn—-the oe-
riods of change of direction in the m5n-
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