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About The Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 18, 1885)
l1 HAMMOND'S GREAT LEAP. One Hundred and Fifty-five Feet Down From a Cliff into the Rio Grand. San Antonio Cor. Philadelphia Times. When the news of Professor Odium's fatal leap from the parapet of the Brooklyn bridge reached here we were balking over the affair in the "Gold Room." Sam Graham, ex-sergeant of rangers, called attention to a parallel incident which attracted a great deal of attention on the frontier at the time and gave the name of "Ham mond's Leap" to a lofty canon wall on the bank of the Rio Grande, about six miles west where the alkaline waters of the Pecos empty into it . The track of the Southern Pacific railroad runs Close to the river here, and as you whirl tv the trainmen will point out the spot where Kobert Hammond made a sheer jump of 155 feet to the muddy waters of the Rio Grande below. This leap was made in the early summer of loois, when tne ranroaa was m pro cess of construction. The painted red men from a safe hiding place on the Mex ican side watched the busy scene with wide opened eves, heard the "big thun der" of the blasts with loud-beating heart and stole back to the Santa Rosas. The only animate beings that did not seem to mind the noise and tu mult were those pestiferous little var mints, the vinegaroan, the devil horse, the tarantula, the centipede, the sting ing lizard, and the rattlesnake. They remained and disputed the ground inch by inch with the invaders. They caused a great deal of trouble, and the navvies feared and respected them. It was a stinging lizard or scorpion that caused Hammond's leap. Hammond was a navvy, born in England, and at the time he made the leap about 26 years of age. He was of rather slender build, but wiry and muscular, and Jack Harris, the contractor for whom he worked, considered him his best churn driller. Harris' camp was at the head of a deep canon, about one mile south of Vinegaroan. He was en gaged in making a fill and two side cuts, and worked gangs day and night. Hammond worked in the day gang, and the big wall tent he shared with Bix or eight others was about 300 yards from the edge of the lofty wall, against whose base the muddy waters of the "great river" dashed and tum bled. At this particular point the river is quite deep. One night the sleeping occupants of Harris's camp were aroused by a series of startling yells, which came from Hammond's tent. Before they could collect their senses and settle m their minds whether or not the camp had been attacked by In dians, Hammond dashed from the tent and although held by his companions, tore himself away, and yelling at every jump, made giant bounds toward the river. Te drillers and blasters in the cut stopped their work and ran up on the bank to see what was the matter. They saw Hammond as he dashed toward them and heard his ag onized yells. .A cry of horror burst from their lips as the yelling man reached the brink of the precipice and without a second's hesitation leaped out and shot down like a plummet to the boilingflood 155 feetJpelow. They heard the loud splash made by his body when it struck the water and then, with blanched faces and hushed voices, hurried down to the river level to search for the poor fellow's man gled body. What was their supprise to meet the supposed dead man alive, uninjured. He was shivering with cold however, and the muddy water dripped from his clothing. "What was the matter?" cried the group of searchers in chorus. "One of them infernal stinging liz ards got in my ear and nearly drove me crazy," answered Hammond, "but he popped out when I struck the wa ter. By the way boys, what do you think of that jump?" "It ought to have killed you," said one man. "It didn't, though," cried Hammond with a laugh. "I'll make it again for a ten-dollar bill." The next morning Jack Harris had the distance measured, and the tape line, held close to the cliff edge, marked 155 feet and a few inches when the other end touched the water. Ham mond did not appear to suffer from his terrible flight through the air. He worked for Harris until the latter's contract was finished and then he went into Mexico to work on the Mex ican Central. He was in his under clothes that night, and his feet were protected by thin socks. He struct water feet first, and described the sen sation experienced as similar to that if the feet had been smartly slapped with a broad strap. While in the air he felt no difficulty in breathing, and the increased velocity as his body neared the water was not perceptible. Through London by Canal. Ber.j. El!is Martin, in Harper's Magazine. When a certain famous financier from San Francisco visited London a few years ago he was called on the morn ing after his arrival by his English cor respondent.who, finding him character istically anxious to plunge at once in to the business for which he had come, proposed to start for "the city." "The city," exclaimed our magnate; "why, what do you call this place we'er in? I was two or three hours riding through what I should call a city last night be fore I reached this hotel." But the placid and precise Englishman went on, statistically, to explain that "the city" was still a long dis tance away; that they could go there inside a cab or outside a 'bus; by boat down the river underground, beneath the houses.by rail; or by rail, above the roofs, through the borough all to the astonishment expressed with naive and native vehemence, of the San Fran ciscan. I fear that the resources of the Pacific slope language would have been unduly taxed had he been told that he might pass from end to end of London on a canal; and I am sure his visitor, as well as most Londoners, would have felt equal surprise. Yet it is true; an unheeded and al most unknown river runs through the heart of London, holdingits quiet, un-. troubled course, while the busy city has pushed its way all about and be yond it.. It is not so many years since pleasure boats plied uponit; and even now chartered to commerce as it is, a trip along its length is a delight and a surprise, not only to the Lon doner, who may not be adverse to the novel form of amusement to be found in. learning something of his own town but even to the alien prowler by pro fession, who prides himself on thor oughly knowing his beloved prowling place. The Regent's Canal is the last link in the great canal chain of England. By it the Mersey is married to the Thames, and shakes hands with the Humber; it connects the whole great scheme of inland navigation with Lon don and the sea. The Grand Junc tion Canal, through which flows all the traffic of the canals of the North, of the midland counties and the West, joins the Thames at Brentford, and, entering it here, we may pass around and through London, and come again into the Thames at Limehouse. The Regent's Canal proper reaches from Paddington to Limehouse, a distance of eight and one-half miles, in which distance there are forty bridges or more, and twelve locks, at short in tervals, to enable it to make the de scent of eighty-four feet. There are many basins and docks, some deep cuttings, and to pass through the great ridge at Islington it was neces sary to cut a tunnel, straight and deep. The canal has a mean depth of about six feet, is thirty-feet in width at the bottom and forty-eight feet at the surface, to allow three full-sized barges to pass comfortably, these barges being thirteen to fourteen feet wide, and from sixty-five to seventy feet long. The whole inland navigation of the country once stopped at Padding ton. This Canal, continuing the wa ter communication of the interior of the Thames and its docks at Limehouse, was begun October 14, 1812, and finally opened for traffic August 1, 1820. It received its name from "the first gentleman in Europe," as he was then regarded by a subservient nation. There were fine doings at its formal opening; an aquatic procession of boats and barges flaunting with streamers flags flying everywhere. Liberty Above All. Victor Hugo was wedded to liberty from his cradle. His father was a soldier of the First French Republic, and it was another old soldier in the same ranks who was to give the son that watchword which was on his lips so constantly through life. This was Laborie, who, in 1804, was implicat ed in Moreau's conspiracy against Bonaparte. On the discovery of the plot, he was proscribed, a price was set upon his head, and it was the elder Hugo who gave him shelter. During this period of concealment, Laborie, while talking with some generals who had sworn not to betray him, turn ed to the child Victor, and said, "Re member liberty above all!" Who can doubt that the sentence exercised a determining influence on the life of the boy? Victor Hugo says, speaking of him self in the third person, "The man who to-day publishes this collection Deeds and Words and who throws open the door of his life to his contem poraries in these volumes, has passed through many errors. He has suffer ed from the consequences of a complex and solitary education given him by a proscribed Republican. But the pa triot was always strong within him. He was for Napoleon in 1813, for the Bourbons in 1814. He has always acted in perfect good faith. He de clares that never in all he has written will any one find a line against hber- "rn 1848, he had not made up his mind as to the definite social form to be adopted. Singularly enough, one might almost say that at that time liberty hid the Republic from his vis ion. "He was a member of the Assembly. One day at its meeting a brave man came to him and said, 'With whom are you in sympathy here?' " 'With Kberty.' 'And what are you doing? " 'I am waiting.' "After June, 1849, he waited no longer. At the moment when the hands of all the conquerors were held out to him to drag him into their ranks, he saw a corpse on the field. Every one cried " 'It is the Republic!' " 'He went to it and found that it was liberty. Then he saw before him a fall, defeat, ruin, proscription, and he said, 'It is well.' "From that day forward, the unkm in his soul of the Republic with Liber ty was complete. From that day for ward, without truce, without relaxa tion, obstinately, foot by foot, he fought for the great cause. In 1851, he received what he expected, twenty years of exile." Youth's Companion. The Latest Georgia Snake Story. Mr. Ellis B. McGreen, an old and well-known citizen of Bartow county, was in town, and relaled to us the fol lowing singular story: Mr. McGreen and his son-in-law, James iJarnuer, were on a tract of land belonging to Mr. McGreen known as the slough Jookingfor a sow and a litter of young pigs that had not been seen for several days. While walking over thegrouno, wiuiich was of a damp, boggy nature, Barmer suddenly sank to his waist. Mr. McGreen was carrying an ax with which be cut a sood sized sapling, and passing one end of it to Barmer he succeeded in pullinghimoutof the hole. As Barmer'sfeetemergedfrora the mud there was found hanging to the lower hem of one of his pantaloon legs a Large sized rattlesnake, his shakeship had his fangs firmly hooked in the heavy jeans and was cut in pieces be fore he eoutd let go his hold. Another snake reared his head from the aper ture and was killed. The two men then investigated the den, and found and killed thirty-seven snakes. And strangers still, some twenty feet from the snake nest, and in the same hol low, were found the sow and all the pigs but two. They hadfallen through the thin crust of ground covering the aperture, and were unable to get out without assistance. Rome Courier THE FAEM AM) FIRESIDE. , Notes for tne Housekeeper. N. M. Writes to the N. Y. Tribune: "Where one has to manage with a small income and has good health, it is a good plan to dispense with help, and by economizing in other ways, buy such articles as will contribute to the comfort of the family and especially such as will make the work easy a Dover egg-beater, a carpet-sweeper, a washer, a meat-chooper, a kerosene stove with fixtures, a combination baby high chair with rocker, a little carriage, an adjustable gate that will fit any door or window, so that you can keep the babies very near you, and yet not" in the same room where the work is going on. A great saver of time is to have a place for each thing and each thing in place when not in use. It is surprising how the little two-hear-olds will remember where each thing belongs, and how soon they will learn that it is the right way to pick up the 'blocks' be fore asking for the 'animals,' and how the younger c-nes will teach the older ones, 'this is our drawer,' and 'that is mamma's; we musn't open mamma's drawer.' It is rather hard at first to leave all your important duties to show the babies how to pick up the playthings, right away, when they are through playing with them; but have patience, they will learn and will know no other way, and the first you know they will do it of their own accord and give you no more trouble. My two oldest babies now pick up their blocks and pile them in the boxes without be ing told. At 10:30 every morningthey have each a glass of warm milk and go to bed for their nap, where they stay until 1 o'clock. Sometimes they sleep all the time, sometemes only part of it, but they don't know any better than to stay there, and they need the rest. How much work can be crowded in while they are asleep I need not men tion here, as any one can try for her self. At 5:30 the babies go to bed and sleep from 6 p. m. to 6 a. m. The evenings we spend very pleasantly. Two Cheap Medicines. One of the cheapest medicines that mortals can use is sleep. It is a sov ereign remedy for weakness; it cures restlessness, uneasiness and irritabili ty; it will remedy headache; it also cures nervousness. When weary we should rest; when'exhausted we should sleep. To resort to stimulants is sui cidal. What weary men need is sleep. The lack of sleep causes neuralgia, paralasis and insanity. Many a per son dies for want of sleep, and the point where many a sufferer turns his feet from the very gates of death to the open path of life is when he sinks to sleep. Of almost every sick man it may be said, as of Lazarus, "If he sleeps he will do well." Another ex cellent medicine is sunshine. The world requires more of it morally and physically. It is more soothing than morphine, more potent than poppies. It is good fpr liver complaint, neural gia, for rheumatism, for melancholy for everything. Make your rooms sunny and cheerful; build your houses so as to command the sunshine all day long. Princess Beatrice's Trossean. From the London Truth. Have you any curiosity about the trosseau a princess has? I have seen the sketches and materials of some of Princess Beatrice's trosseau frocks, which are being made by Redfern. One is a very pretty brown and blue shot tweed, with silk to match. The shirt is of the latter and is arranged in wide perpendicular pleats. The bodice and tunic are of the tweed, the front of the bodice being trimmed with folds of the silk, arranged fichu-fashion. A pretty little jacket to go with this gown is made of the tweed, lined with peacock colored satin and trimmed with the shot-silk down the fronts, which are straight, though the back fits tightly to the figure. Another nice frock is of grenat blank et cloth, the long wide pleats on the skirt being separated by folds of Otto man silk in the same color. There is also a vest of the Ottoman, the bodice and scarf drapery being of the cloth. A jacket is made to accompany this frock, the material being the blanket cloth. It faatens from the left shoul der and is trimmed round all the out lines with fine sable. A gown of navy-blue cloth is cut out in scallops, which fall over a trimming of interlaced cardinal red braid- A simi lar but narrower trimming edges the tunic, which is quite short. The fronts of the bodice are scalloped over a vest of interlaced red braid and the sleeves are finished at the cuffs to match. The jacket corresponding with this is of navy cloth, edged with one row of cardinal braid. A revers, turned back at the side or the chest, is lined with red silk and a smaller revers, turned back at the right side of the basque. shows a similar lining. This is a very effective little arrangement and one quite new to my experience. A cream-colored cloth is made over a skirt of pale blue veiling, being quite plain except for a narrow pleating round the edge. The bodice of this fastens diagonally from the left shoulder by means of carved mother-of-pearl buttons. The vest and cuffs are pale blue. Another cream-colored dress is of Cairo cloth, with pleated skirt and scarf-like tunic, made of cream-colored satin. The bodice of this gown is pleated and worn with a belt. lace, we find the Marquise, which is ex tremely popular, and comes in various and attractive patterns. Evening gloves are made with the hand, as far as the wrist, of kid, while the long arm consists of silk net, em broidered with gold, silver or silk. Morning dresses and elegant house toilets are made dressy with profuse use of ribbons in bows, knots, cas cades, panels and floating loops and ends. " , Matinees are still trimmed down the front with full jabot of lace, or open over a brocaded plastron, and are edged on either side with full frills of lace. Red silk crepe is a favorite material for trimming dark blue alpaca, and is introduced in tiers of fans placed over lapping each other down the left side. White nuns' veiling is the favorite for nice dresses foryounggirls. It is made np with a jersey bodice, laced or but toned behind. The skirt is trimmed with rows of satin ribbon, and has a tablier in front and sash ends behind for slender figures, while those inclined to stoutness need no overdress, but wear a sash. Seasonable Fashion Kotos. Ottoman ribbons are largely used for trimming dresses. Parasols match the costumes with which they are worn. White cloth dresses are trimmed with embroidery or braid. Black and white striped silk and sat in are very popular in Paris. Black, gray and shades of brown are the leading colors in hosiery. Dividing the honors with Spanish Better Crops From Sheltered Belts. Last winter in Southern Ohio, and indeed over a much larger section of country, furnished an illustration of the value of timber as a protection to small grain, which the dullest farmer or most casual observer could not fail to notice. The only fields of wheat showing life were those which felt the protection of timber. Rich land, thor ough preparation of soil and early seeding which gave a start to the crop so that it covered the ground in the fall, and even top-dressing with fine rich manure, all counted for nothing during the terrible winter, for thou sands of acres which had some or all of these favorable conditions were to tally killed. I rode during the last wreek of April twenty miles through as good a wheat-producing locality as can be found in the Union, and did not see a single field that promised five bushels of wheat to the acre, except in the protection of timber. Here and there was a green velvety field, and in every case, without exception, was the border of timber on one or more sides of it. Even neglected hedges, allowed to grow to the height of ten feet, saved a belt of wheat several rods in width. Professor Townsend, of the Ohio uni versity, states that in the prairie coun tries it has been found that with one sixth of the land devoted to timber the remainder produced as much grain as the whole did before the trees were planted. I have raised timber belts of soft maple and of locust on my farm, and found that a double row, occupy ing less than a rod in width of land, can be grown from seed to furnish good protection in five years, and I have cut a cord of wood from thirty -fivo maple trees; ten years old, and occupying but four or five square rods of land. There can be no question of the profit of these timber belts; thev pay in the protec tion they afford to grain, grass and stock, and the timber when utilized will pay again and often largely. When ar ranged to protect the permanent pas tures it is safe to estimate that the stock can be turned out a week earlier in spring than in an unprotected field, and a week of pasture at this season is worth much more than a week later. I would urge every farmer whose land is unprotected te start a shelter belt of trees. Waldo Jr. Brown. A Word of Advice. Why are girls so injudicious in their toleration of dissipated young men? It is very often the case that a thoroughly good girl will deliberately marry a man who makes no secret of his bad habits. What can she expect but misery to ensue? A life-partnership should not be entered into with out at least as much caution as men display in making business combina tions for limited, periods. No man selects his business partner from among men who drink much liquor or have other bad habits. As for mere man ners and the ability to make one's self agreeable, they have mot of themselves influence enough among men to secure a dollar's worth of credit or to justify any one in believing their possessor on oath. A girl who is not old enough or shrewd enough to have learned what are the standards by which men are tested, would be far surer of a happy life if she were to let her parents select a husband in the prosiest manner im aginable, than if she were to make her own selection in the manner peculiar to girls. A lile-partnerslnp is not easily dissolved. Home Companion. What a Baoy Can Do. Babies are often called "helpless little things," "powerless little crea tures." and all that sort of nonsense. In a few words we will prove to our unprejudiced readers that babies are neither "helpless" or "powerless," by informing them of a few things that a baby can do. It can wear out a dollar pair of kid shoes in twenty-four hours. It can keep its father busy advertis ing in the newspapers for a nurse. It can occupy both sides of the larg est size bed manufactured simultane ously. It can make the author of its be ing's wash bills foot up to $5 a week and not be feeling at all well. It can crowd to suffocation the smoking car of a railroad train with indignant passengers between two stations. It can cause its father to be insulted by every second-class boarding-house keeper in the city who "never takes children," which in. nine eases out of ten is very fortunate for the children. It can make itself look like a fiend just at the moment when mamma wants to show "what a pretty baby she has." It can look its father innocently in the face and five seconds later spoil the only good coat that he has got in the world. It can make an old bachelor in the room adjoining use language that, if uttered on the street, would get him into the penitentiary for two years. It can go from the farthest end of the room to the foot of the stairs in the hall adjoining quicker than its mother can just step into the closet and out again. It can go to sleep "like a little angel," and just as mamma and papa are starting for the theater it can wake up, and stay awake until the beginning of the last act. It can, in ten minutes, drive a man frantically from his home and cause him to seek the companionship of a locomotive blowing off steam in order that he may obtain the rest and qui etude which his weary frame demands. These are someof thefewthings that a baby can do. But there are other things as welL A baby can make the commonest home thebrightestspoton earth. It can lighten the burden of a loving mother's life by addingtothem; it can flatten its dirty little face against a window pane in such a way that the tired father can see it, as a picture, be fore he rounds the corner. Yes, babies are great institutions, particularly one's own. Home Companion. Manners of Hired Help. H. P. writes to the N. Y. Tribune: "Will you not give us a little talk up on the relations of the employer and the employed, especially those exist ing in the household and on the farm, where one is associated personally with those in his or her employ. Please tell us what you would con sider the proper form of address due the employer in such cases. The Tribune answers: Our house hold consists of two brothers past thirty, one sister and myself past twenty-five, and I think that a more for mal title than the given name used by the family is due us from our hired help. Now is it unkind to insist upon having Miss used before my sister's name and my own, and Mr. before that of my brothers? No well-bred person met socially expects to use any other style of address unless they are intimate friends, and why shouditbe considered a degrading thing for one in service to place the suitable title before his em plorer's name when addressing him or her? Surely the utmost kindness should be shown to those we employ, and certainly no true-hearted person wishes to make any one feel a degrad ing sense of inferiority because of the necessity of gaining a livelihood by manual labor, but isn't it far easier to keep their relations pleasant when due respect is given to these outward forms? Undue familiarity is never a promoter of kindly feeling. A Maine Farmer on Fences. If I had my way, I wouldn't have a fence on the farm. In the first place, there are over 6 4,000 farmers in Maine. Now, their farms have in the aggregate over 42,000,000 rods of fence, or rising 131,000 miles. This is outside of or namental fences, and does not include some 2,000 miles or more of railroad fencing. There are 11,000 rods of highway fences, 16,000,000 rods of partition fences and some 15,000,000 rods of division fences. Estimating the cost of these fences at $1 per rod, and that would, I think, be a fair es timate, and the total cost of fences in Maine is over $42,000,000. This is nearly as much as all the farms and their buildings are worth. It is more than twice and a half the value of all our live stock, and nearly as much as the entire capital of the state invested in manufactures. Why, what with changes and repairs, the loss from yearly decay, the cost of breaking roads through snow-drifts caused by road fences, and the interest on the first cost, taxes, and you'll find that ourfences cost us ahnally $6,000,000. My idea is that fences ought to be con fined exclusively to pastures. I would abolish the rest. Road fences do more damage than good,by causing the roads to drift in the winter time. The only possible use fencing a mowing field can be is to enable the farmer to feed his stock in it during the spring and fall. Cistern Water; B. writes: "If A. L. S. will use the common chain pump in his cistern he will have good water the year round. I use rain-water from a tin roof, and fill in early spring enough to last till fall. I use a chain pump and the wa ter is nice enough for a king. Water needs air and the chain pump sup plies." C. W. H. writes: After consid erable experience in using well and cis tern water, myself and family prefer the cistern water though we have a splendid well. My cistern is built on the north side of the house, 18 feet deep, bricked up and cemented. In the bottom is built a chamber about 2 feet square and four feet high of one thickness of brick laid in cement, into which the pump pipe passes so that all water must pass through the brick before using. I never allow any water to go into the cistern till it has rained hard for some time and until I have proved it to be clear by taking a glass full of is ana noiomg it up to the light. 1 turn the water off while it still runs a good stream, as the water, that has dripped over the shingles is liable to taste of pine. The smoky look and taste in rain water comes from the smoke in the atmosphere and - from the shingles. It takes quite a rain fall to clear both. The water from my cistern is clear as well water, very cool and almost tasteless. After one week's use no one would think of using even spring water in preference to it. A cistern properly managed will dis count the doctor's bill 50 per cent." This way of forming a new bed every second year, as soon as the old rows are mated, is decidedly preferable to keeping the old beds in a half-productive state. The old beds are spaded up next year when the new one will have filled the rows; the ruuners on the new rows should be directed to fill up the vacant spaces, when the next year there will be a full crop. The year after the same process is gone through to form a new bed. New York Times. The Nude In Art. From a Letter in the San Francisco Chronicle. The exposition of the French Acad emy at the Villa Medici this season has caused quite a scandal. Doucet, one of the pensioners, a quiet, gentle manlike artist, a perfectly reputable and excellent person, has painted for this exposition, strange to say, a very coarse picture, not lascivious, but coarse. It is called the "Interior of a Harem." The light is dim; three or four indistinct forms of naked women are seen sitting about in awkard posi tions. There are no fine stuffs, no gor geous decorations, no dazzling colors; the whole attention is directed to the entirely nude body of a robust woman of the Rubens type, who lies sleeping apparently on the front plane of the gicture. Her face cannot be seen, as er back is toward the speccator. As a study of flesh, mere human flesh, the picture is truly a marvelousswork of art , but in every other respect is not only unattractive, but absolutely repulsive. After all that may be said, in defense of nudity in art by artists, most of us shrink from the sight of it in modern art; we accept it with pleas ure only in sculpture, especially an cient sculpture. The Venus of Milo, the Venus of the Capitol, the Apoxyo menos of the Vatican, the Apollo Sau roktonos, the Hermes of Olympia, are such divine perfection of human devel opment that the beholder forgets all modern artificial rules of decorum when looking at them. They are be ings of a far-off age; exquisite forms manifested in a strange marble exist ence. But in painting the nude almost always gives a shock to a sensitive and refined nature. Titian's Venus, Rubens' huge ruddy woman, with all their exquisite execution and the beau ty given them by their creators, they are to say the least, most unattract ive. . Incongruous. Many years ago, when Mr. Marcy was Secretary of State, Mr. Buchanan was sent to represent the United States at the Court of St. James. It was, as it still is, the custom for foreign minis ters to appear at court receptions in court dress. But Mr. Marcy, thinking such a dress unbecoming the repre sentatives of the Republic, had issued a circular forbidding our ministers to wear anything save a plain suit of black. This order led to rather queer consequences at the Court of the then youthful Queen Victoriafor this was in 1853. Mr. Buchanan was warned by the Lord Chamberlain that he would not be received in that costume, and at the same time, that an invitation of Her Majesty was considered equivalent to a command. Mr. Buchanan must have felt himself in the dilema of the Scottish chieftain: ' 'There is no flying hence nor tarryingthere." He could not obey both the Queen and Mr. Marcy. If he went in no other dress than the conventional swallow tail, he would not only offend Her Majesty, but it wouldbe impossible to distinguish him by his dress from the lackeys and caterers in attendance. The inventive genius of Mr. Buch anan was equal to the emergency. He dressed himself in the conventional swallow-tail, but beneath it he buckled' on a sword. The lackeys were not al lowed to wear swords, and so it con stituted a mark of distinction. The young queen received him in her gracious way, but without being able to repress a brOad smile. After that he was a decided court favorite, as a well-bred and well-behaved bacheloi deserved to be Strawberrl es. After a bed of strawberries has fruit ed, the snace between the rows should be spaded up and raked off so as to furnish a place for the rooting of the runners, from which a new bed may be formed. By turning the runners, which grow freely after fruiting is over, into this mellow, clean space, a large num ber of new plants will be secured, which can be removed to a new Deo and planted out to replace the old. one. An Obliging- Piece of Furniture. From the Cleveland Ohio) Plain Dealer. In a family residing on Woodland avenue a little girl was playing not long ago with a playmate from a neigh bor's family. They were playing at a small centre table, and the little girls noticed presently that when one of them put her hand on the table it would lift up and down, and they finally called others of the family to witness the strange behavior of the table. After experimenting some time the little girl climbed upon the table, say ing, "Now, let's see if you can move." To their astonishment the table be gan to move along the floor with the little girl on it. She jumped off, saying, "Now, move yourself if you can." The table started off, moving across the floor, no one touching it "If you can move so well, said the little girl s, mother, "move into the next room and kiss the baby in the crib there." To their amazement the table started off, moved across the floor, through the door into the room where the babe was sleeping in the crib, and tipped up with its edge as close to the babe's face as it could get. Now, upon what philosophy can this behavior of the table be explained? Without going any further into the phenomena of spiritualism, or discussing what are put forward as higher manifestations, how are these elementary raps and movements to be satisfactorily ac counted for? At all events there is a field here for honest investigation. A Boston man suffering from indi gestion tried various kinds of exercise to no purpose, but being at last pre vailed upon to allow himself to be tossed in a blanket every other morn ing for a fortnight, recovered his health.. There used to be a report that old John Jacob Astor, when too feeble to stir around, was regularly subjected to this treatment.