TWO TRUTHS. .
rjarlla said, "Inavsr meant '
To hurt yon," and bin ijm graw wfflj
"I would not bart you for I !) worldl
Am 1 10 blm If I lorxttT"
"Forelvt ro eelnnh team' lb or ltd,
Korglv! I SDOwluatUwaa Dot
That you would mean to bart m, lore,
I knew It wh tbl you forgot!"
But nil tbm,dep In her heart
Kaukla thi tbouDt, and riuklaiyel,
When loTe li at tta bit, one love
Bo raucb that b.cannoWorj.t
05LY KITTI.
BY ETHELIHD BAI,
Portland Iveolnf Telegram.
. Come around to dinner to-morrow af
ternoon Earl," said Alfred Summers as
he was parting with his friend, Earl
Stanhope. "We dine at three-will you
00ID6?
"Thanks! With pleasure!" ropliod Mr.
Stanhope, with the peculiarly winning
emilo which belonged to him alone. I
will try to be punctual."
"My sinters have iust returned from
Europe you know, went on Alfred,
"and I am sure you will admire Helen s
drawing; and if you like music you will
Ko wild over Clara's playing, for she is a
fine musician. Ta-ta, old fellow! be sure
to come!" . ,
And the two frionds parted with a
warm band ol, sp. They had been school
matos and collego chums togethor, and
were still the best and warmest of
friends, although Alfred was only a
poor, young barrister, whilo his friend
was very wealthy and very idle, and
spent the greater portion of his time in
traveling. Alfred's parents were dead,
and he supported not only hintsolf, but
also his sisters, and it was chiefly this
fact', together with his strength and inde
pendence of character that causod Mr.
Stanhopo to regard him warmly as a
iriond. ; , , .
He looked forward with pleasure to
his meeting with Alfred's sisters; he had
hoard so much about them their praises
had been so constantly sung by thoir
brother that he would have been more
than human had he not folt a little thrill
of pleasure In tho thought of mooting
thorn. 80 he sauntered back to his hotel,
smoking a cigar, his mind filled with
pleusant thoughts of the morrow.
"Girls," said Alfred delightedly at
supper that ovoning, "I invited Earl
Stanhope to dinner to-morrow, and he
Accopted very ougorly, I think. I am
.sure you will all like him."
"Earl Stanhope!" echoed Clara, a tall,
beautiful blonde, her face lighting with
pleasure. "Doarmel I am so glad! I
must practice Borne now pieces, and
Kitty' turning to her youngost sister
. who sat lhind the toa-urn "you must
not forgot to arrange my niusio nicely I
never could mako things look noot or re
.spoctablo. I was never intended to do
housework I care for nothing but
niusio it is my greatest delight."
"And a great pleasure to us, too,
.doar," said Alfred with a fond, admiring
,glanto at his pretty sister. "I am sure
you will do a groat doal of good in tho
-world just by cheoring others with your
.beautiful music!"
"I wondor why Earl Stanhope doos
not marry," said Holon, a piquant,
vivacious brunotto, tossing back her
curls. "He must bo thirty by this time.
I wonder if he will admire my drawings!
O, by the way, Kitty, you must do my
lair up 011 curling-pins to night the
curl is qijite ont of it; I do look horrid
without my hair curled."
"Earl admires long curls," romarkod
Alfred, smiling across the table at Helen,
"I hopo yon will try to please him,
girls, bo he will come agaiu.'
"Oh, yos," said Clara, with a languid
smile, "I will play for him, and Helen
can show him her drawing and her curls,
.and Kitty can lot me seo oh, yes!
Kitty can superintend the dinner. What
a shame it is Kitty is so plain, and has no
accomplishments! Do toll mo, Alfred,
when yon are going over the list of your
siHters charms, for Mr. Stanhope's ben
efit, what do you ftud to say for Kitty ?"
Alfrod's fane looked a little blank.
"I don't bolievo I ever mentioned her
to him," ho said, half apologetically.
"Hut yon see, Kitty, dear," turning
to his youngest sister "there is so little
to toll about you. You don't play, you
-don't draw,' or paint, you in fact, yon
have no accomplishments t all!"
"Indood, you'ro mistaken, sir," re
torted Kitty, smiling saucily to hido the
bitter pain in her heart, "I cau make
cakes and pies, aud I oan I can darn
atwkiiujsY1 she concluded triumphantly.
"And you can iron shirt," said her
brother affectionately. "Yes, dear, I
know yon are ono of the M and most
tuejul little girls in the world, and oan
do all kinds of housework, but you see
suoh things are not much to botwt of to a
rich follow like Stanhopo, who wants an
accomplished wifo, and not one to do his
woik.,r , ,. ,
"Well," said Kitty, rising, with a little
sigh, "I wish I could play aud draw,
aud do all sorts of nice thiugs, but I wish
it for my own sake and gratification, and
not Mr. Stanhope's!"
When Mr. Stanhope rang tho bell at
the Summers mausion, the following
afternoon, the door was opened by a
aaucy, young lady, with brown hair, and
most decidedly mischievous, brown eyes,
who showed him into the parlor, aud
withdrew with a graceful courtesy.
"Too pretty aud self -possessed for a
servant,' was Earl's unspoken commeut.
Alfred came in soon after, and intro
duced his two sisters who had "just re
turned from Europe," and to save him,
Earl could not but be conscious of a
little chill of disappointment.
To be sure, Clara's exocution was
superb, though lacking expression; and
he courageously murmured his admira
tion over Helen's drawing, though her
mountains itrre Up-heavy and looked
dangorous; and he tried to not wonder
who titer her hair was naturally curly!
but all tho same he was a little bit dis
appointed in his friend's sisters.
Just before dinner, the door opened
.quietly, and the same little, brown
eyed, young lady, who had first met him,
entered, and Alfred said carelessly:
"My youngest sister, Kitty, Earl!"
Kitty gave him her band, with a
aaucy, upward glance, and Mr. Stan
hope exclaimed in amaaernent, "Why,
Alfred, bow is it you never sjwke of
Miss Kitty, when talking of your sis
tersyou have never mentioned her."
Alfred colored deeply, but Kitty,
pitying his confusion, exclaimed, with
her sunny smile, "Oh, you will sot
wonder that he did not mention me.when
you have known me a little while, Mr.
Stanhope. I am only Kitty, you know,
and I am not at all smart or clever.
But I didn't come in to tell you thia
dinner is ready, Alfred!"
"Why didn't yoa let Mary announce
dinner?" inquired Clara, languidly.
"I was afraid she couldn't do it in
style!" retorted Kitty, the comers of her
mouth twitching mirthfully. "She is
not used to it, you know, Clara!" And,
as Clara and Helen flushed crimson,
Kitty could not help stealing a saucy
glance at Earl, and was rewarded by a
knowing, mischevious reply from his
dark eyes. .
All during the dinner hour, Kitty
kept making the most horrible "breaks, '
as Clara termed them, frequently caus
ing her stylish sisters, the greatest con
sternation. '
Once, Mr. Stanhope said something in
praise of the cocoanut cake, and instead
of maintaining a discreet silence, as a
well-bred young lady would have done,
Kitty exclaimed, innocently, "O, do
you like it.? I'm so glad I made it! We
only have one servant, you know," she
went on, pretending to not notice her
sisters' frowns and confusion, "and I
have to help her a good deal I made
those rolls, too arn't they nico?"
"You're a regular goose I'm ashamed
of youl exclaimed Clara, after their
guest had dopartod. "The idea of open
ing the door yourself, and confessing
that we only have one servant and he is
so rich and stylish!"
"Well," said Kitty, coolly, "whon any
one is as poor as Job's turkey, and every
body knows it, I don't see the sense of
putting on 'airs'! If Mr. Stanhope don't
like to come here because we only have
one servant, he'll have to stay away
and that's all thore is about it!"
- However, it soon became apparent
that Mr. Stanhope did like to "ooine
here," as Kitty expressed it, and almost
every evening found him sitting in the
little parlor, listening politely to Clara's
music, and admiring, with real wondor,
Helen's drawings, while Alfred smoked
out on the piazza, and wondered which
of his two brilliant sisters would win the
prize; and Kitty sweot, saucy, inde
pendent little Kitty sat off in a corner,
and worked at her embroidery, occasion
ally throwing little, mischievous, wicked
glances at Earl from under her long,
brown lashes, whon Clara would inno
cently make some very conceited remark
about herself, or when Helen would get
off one of her long French words.
Atid onoe, after a great deal of coaxing
and teasing, Mr. Stanhope persuaded
her to loave her quiet oorner and sing for
him; and, though the girls looked horri
fied, she bravely wont to the piano, and,
playing a soft, low accompaniment, sang
that sweetest of old love songs, ."Then
You'll Remember Me" sang it with
such pathos and expression as Earl had
never heard it sung before; and Alfred
came in, smiling with pleasure, but
stopped short whon he saw Kitty, and
said, "Why, is that only Kitty singing?
I was sure it was Clara!"
But, after that one evening, Kittv
nover came into the parlor whon Earl
called. He asked for her repeatedly,
but she was always "engaged," or had a
"headache," as the girls said.
Early one morning ho was passing the
house, and saw Kitty out in the garden
gathering flowers for the breakfast table.
It had now been three weeks since he
saw her last, and he was really quite sur
prised at his pleasure in meeting her.
She turned at his approach, and a soft,
dolicate color s u flu sod her face, and hor
eyes foil, as ho took hor hand and re
tained it for a moment.
"Why have I not seen you lately?" he
askod, reprooohfully. "I have asked for
yon so often, and you wore always 'en
gaged.'" Kitty gave a slight start of surprise,
which was not lost upon Earl.
"I have boen rather busy," she said,
slowly; thon, with a startled look, she
said, hurriedly, "0, Mr. Stanhope, there
is Clara I Please lot me go !"
"Confound Clara!" muttered Earl,
under his moustache, and, still holding
Kitty's fluttering little hand, "When
shall I see you again, Kitty?"
"I don't know, Mr. Stanhope," sho
faltered.
"Will you meet me over there
undor the willow to-night?" ho askod,
eagerly.
"I won't promise," sho answered,
saucily,
"Then I will not let you go."
"Oh, yes.vcs.I will promisol"she cried,
hastily. 'Tlease leave me and go to
Clara; she will be so angry."
And with a warm pressure of the little
haud he left her.
"O, Mr. Stanhope," said Clara, as he
approached, "I am so glad you came.
Helen and I are going down the river for
water lilies, and you must go with us
you will, I am sure that's a good fel
low." Earl consented, smiling down into
Clara's face, and thinking what a very
pretty girl she was. He almost wished
lie had not askod Kitty to meet him un
der the w illow that night. And after all,
what had he asked her for? Sho was
only a sweet, sucy, independent little
thing, aud it would be impossible to fall
in love with her, oven though she teas
so good and sweet; so what was the use
of meeting her?
He returned from tho excursion after
water lilies in a rather unen viable state of
mind.
He was half tempted to ask Clara to
marry him she was so pretty, so regal,
t accomplished, and he would feel so
proud when introducing her as his
"wife."
However, he concluded to "think about
it," aud declining Clara's invitation to
supper, turned aud left her; but when
ho reached the gate he suddenly remem
bered that he had forgotten his cane, and
hastily retracing his steps, was in the act
of stepping through the low, French
window, when he heard his own name
mentioned, and, pausing involuntarily,
listened.
"I say, Kitty, you shall not come in
the parlor this evening," said Clara's
clear, distinct voice. "Earl Stanhope
came very near proposing to-day, and I
Lmnt he will to-night."
"Are vou quite sure he is coming this
evening" asked Kitty's low, tremulous
voioe.
"Of course I am. He said so."
"Then." said Kitty, quietly, "I will
not disturb you."
And she stepped through the window,
with quivering lips and tearful eyes, al
most into Earl's arms. "Dont you be
lie
re
de-
The
the
ing
lieve her Kitty," be said, tenderly, for
anew now inai ue tovea ner.
"Be under the willow at nine, clear.
ir 1 1 1 t.
Ana Ainy went, ana wnen "
turned Earl was with her, and boldly
mantieu an interviow wun Aiireu.
latter was astonished.
"T dnn't know wW. T will do without
V.o " ha iliil lnnlrlni KowildpreJ. "I
. . 1 . I 1 1.1
timnnrnr. mra vnn wnn m thicr mum ui
ntkan Ynn am T Annld rrat alonflT V6
well without Clara's musio or Helen
drawing.
iiln.linran T " amital Tarl. ttuttl
his arm round Kitty. And so, to the
1 i .j TT 1 1 "'I a n
astonisnmeuv ui neien aim vi
all the rest of the world, the coveted
prize was won by only Kitty.
Talk or the Weather.
Why is it that one obvious, self
evident proposition, the utterance of
which imparts no information, and is
absurd truism, should be tolerated and
grateful, while another of the very same
kind is received as a jest or sign of men
tal decay? If you should reply to the
friend who remarks upon the fine day,
"Certainly, very fine; twice two are
four," you would have replied in kind,
but insult or insanity might be fairly
alleged. But to question tho weather as
a topic of conversation is really to re
quire that there shall be no talk whioh is
not reasonable. . Yet why reduce us to
silence? Deduct from the sum total of
human remarks the wonder whether it is
going to rain, the hope that it is going
to clear, the emphatic asseveration that
it is too hot, and the profane proclama
tion that it is altogether too cold,
with all the filling in, so to speak, the
"How lovely!" "How perfect!" "How
just right!' "What extraordinary
weather!" and "What delightful
weather!" and then the historical com
parisons of weather, and references to
thermometries! records, and days of
phenomenal cold or heat, and what
would be loft of human intercourse?
Imagine, under this privation, the condi
tion of ladies making morning calls!
Consider the case of young gentlemen
joining young ladies en promenade, or
of A suddenly presented to B! What
mournful silor.ee would wrap the world!
It is in this view that the weather re
ports from Washington are such bless
ings, and that the late lamented Morriam
and the contemporary Vennor are suoh
benefactors. The "probabilities" of the
morning paper organize and give point
to the whole weather gossip of the day.
"Hal" says Lynx, over his coffee, "hum!
Probabilities says cloudy and cool, with
shifting winds from north to south;
clear, with local rains, increasing tem
perature, and possible frost at night;
rising, stationary, or falling barometer.
That's all very well. Now let us see."
Lynx scrutinizes the weather all day
long to catch Probabilities tripping, and
his mind is fuller of it than ever. If a
friend salutes him with the familiar
"Fine day!" Lynx is ready for him.
"Well, perhaps so, but you wait. I am
not so sure how it is going to turn out."
But, nevertheless, if Probabilities says
tersely, "Rain," Lynx and everybody
else sallies forth with an umbrella.
Before Probabilities we had Merriam.
This worthy man was the inventor of
"heated terms." He had an ill way on
July morning of publishing a card an
nouncing that a heated term was at hand,
and the population began at once to mop
and puff, and the annoyance was the
greater because of the announcement,
ihore was a great deal of skoptical rib
aldry when the Merriam prophecies ap
peared: but he doubtless consoled him
self with the familiar proverb about
prophets in thoir own country, and neat
ed ui) thoir terms as before. Mr. Mer
riam supplied us with conjectural
weather for some months. But his voice
became silent, and he hud no individual
rival for Probabilities is a system un
til Mr. Vennor, who, this year, an
nouneed a cold wet May, and a hot dry
Juno. By this middle of June tho re
sult is that May was the hottest and dry
est upon record, while June has boen
cool and moist, lint tho good propnet
noed not bo discouraged. If the partic
ular kind of weather that he had designed
has f ailod, yet the weather itself has be
('iiino more than ever a tortio of interest.
It has not only its general interest, but
the espocit 1 interest of verifying or dis
proving his accuracy of foreknowledge.
Tho older almanacs displayed this pre
science also, wheu along the whole list
of the thirty -one January days they stud,
Bignirlcantly, "Look out for snow about
this tinm " and tuton the Julv and Au
gust pages they prophosiod all the way,
"About this time expect thunder
storms." Thore are other prophecies
also:
"St. Bwlthln'a Day, If It do rain,"
We are taught what to expect.
But why be impatient of the universal
talk of the weather? What is it but the
instinctive tribute to the beauty of tho
world in which we live, aud to the coles.
tiid laws whioh govern Mllarper't
Magazine.
Oiii'E as a Cdbb kor Cm.-A corre
spondent of the Scientific American writes
as follows: "For the last twelve or four
teen years I have been employed in a
suop wuore mere are over tnree nnnureu
at work, and, as in the case of all shops
of this kind, hardly a day passes without
one or more of us cut or bruise our
limbs. At first there were but few who
found their way to my department to
have their wounds bound up, but after a
while it became generally known that a
rag glued on a flesh wound was not only
a speedy curative, but an effective pro
tection against further injury. I was
soon obliged to keep a supply of rags on
hand ready for any emergency. I will
here cite one among many of the cases
cured with glue: A man was running a
boring mat-nine, with an inch and a
quarter auger attached. By some means
the sleeve of his shirt caught in the
auger, bringing his wrist in contact with
the bit, tearing the flesh among the mus
cles in a frightful manner. He was con
ducted to my department (the pattern
shopj , and I washed the wound in warm
water, and glued around it a cloth,
which, when dry, sunk into a rounded
shape, holding the wound tight and firm.
Onee or twice a week, for three or four
weeks, I dressed the wound afresh, and it
was well. The man never lost an hour's
time in consequence. The truth of this
hundreds can testify to. I use, of
course, the best qpality of glue."
A petition was recently presented to
Parliament from the British Medical As
sociation, signed by seven thousand
uedical men, against vaccination.
MOUST TERSOX.
C0rretp3nd. no Of Evening Teltgram
Wabhimotom, D. C, Aug. 7. 1880.
Abont a week after mrlast letter to you
I visited Mount Vernon, the tomb of
Washington, for I folt that I could not
well leave Washington without nrst pay
irtff a visit to the crave of the "father of our
country" and the "man that never told a
lie." We left the capital about 10 0 ciock
in tlift mnminir oil a boat differing from
our Oregon steamers, by not being "new,
. ... f-" II t... 1 1... et 11 tr
elegant ana oommoaious, uui -j ""7 3
as slow as the wrath to come! We had
r.;a o lorrra narftr inntndinff three for
eigners not foreign ministers, but
"toarpers and "nddiers wuo
a racket aU the way down, for the pur
pose of keeping our spirits up, and also
to replenish the interior of thoir pockets
with some of the new Bland dollars. In
passing
DOWK THE POTOMAC
The first interesting place we passed was
the United States arsenal. Here can be
seen the spot where Mrs. Surrat was
hung, and for the moment a slight shiver
ran through my body, as I thought of
the terrible fate of that woman. Cross
ing the river here to the Virginia shore,
and about seven miles below Washing
ton, we stopped at Alexandria, a place
made famous during the war. It now
reminds one of the "deserted village."
"Sweet mlllnsvlllaje. loveliest of thslawn,
Tby iports are fled, and all thy charms with
drawn; . j .
Amldnt tby bowers the tyrant'! hand Is seen,
And deaoUtlon laudeoa all tby green."
All the buildings along the water-front
are unoccupied and falling, one by one,
to ruin. In the streets can be seen the
idle negroes lounging about, and every
thing bears the marks of time. It is now
on the downward track, having, like
Rome, already reached the pinnacle of
its glory. Yet there are buildings here
which are very interesting to sight-seers.
Among whioh, the old church of which
Washington was one of the vestrymen;
the house in which Ellsworth was killed
during the Rebellion, and also many
other interesting buildings. Below
Alexandria, and on the Maryland side,
we stomied at Fort Foote. Here we
were met by some of our Nation's de
fenders; the men who give up their lives
for Uncle Sam, and represent the army;
viz: one corporal and one private. These
gentlemen viewed us as we silently drew
out from the wharf and sailed away.
Nor far below Fort Foote is Fort Wash
ington, which was
DESIGNED BY GEN. WASHINOTON
as a fortification to protect the Potomac.
Its tall and massive walls rise grandly on
a point of land jutting out in tho Poto
mac. Its walls are surmounted by small
cannon, whose last report was heavily re
verberating through the hills of Virginia
and Maryland "a many year ago." The
fort was ransacked aud burned by
the British during the war, signs of
which can still be seen. Now, crossing
over the river, we come in sigh of Mount
Vernon. Landing at a small wharf, we
are conducted by a guide, who explains
everything of interest to us. On the
right of the way, and not far from the
wharf, is a clump of weeping willows
from the grave of Napoleon. Pass
ing on we come to a turn in the rood,
from which we have a view of the tomb.
Peering in through the iron gates we saw
the sarcophagus, whioh contains all that
is left of the great Washington. It is of
plain marble, inside of which is a leaden
casket, which contains the remains. On
the cover of the sarcopagus is a shield,
surmounted by an eagle; one of the
claws of the bird is missing, it having
been broken off by a soldier during the
war.
opposite Washington's casket
is the one containing the body of his
wife. At the back of the vault is another
vault, which contains the remains of all
of Washington's relatives. There are
about thirty bodies here. The door of
this vault is securely lockod, and the key
thrown in the Potomac As we stood
here gazing on this doleful scene no one
uttered a word. I thought of Meredith,
who says:
There are momenta when illeuce prolonged
and unbroken,
Moreexprewtlve may b than all words ever
poken.
Tho next place of interest was the old
oak tree under which Washington used to
rest in coming from the wharf to the
house. Just beyond this tree is the old
tomb of Washington; the body was first
placed there, and of towards removed to
the place where it now lies. After pass
ing tho old stable, numerous sheds and
buildings, we arrive at the house. The
first room which we entered was Wash
ington's dining-room. This remains the
same, the walls being ornamented with
old-fashioned pictures. From here we
pass into the hall; this is large and spa
cious, running through the centre of the
house. Here the eye is first attracted to
to a glass ease, inside of which is the key
to the famous French Bastile, which was
presented to Washington by Lafayette.
On the walls are hung the coats-of-arms
of a few of the different States. Here
also is a register in which visitors are
requested to place their names and resi
dence. We next passed into the last
parlor, which is the museum of the
house. Here can be seen Washington's
paraphernalia. On one side is his tripod,
said to be tho first he ever used, his
globe and a mysterious-looking
BLACK BOTTLE
Stood on the shelf. But a tag tells us it
was found among the ruins of some
house. So our minds were made easy
on that score. In a large glass case is
Washington's clothing, Lafayette's Ma
sonic apron, a piece of the "Independ
ence bell," letters from Washington to
different members of his family, a lock
of his hair, his sword and blunder buss,
a set of British colors given by General
Grant to the Mount Vernon Association,
some screws which fell from Washing
ton's coftin when it was removed, and
many other curiosities which are too
numerous to mention. We then step;ed
into the main parlor, or the State dimng
rooru. Here is a harpsichord, given to
Nellie Custis by Washington, also Wash
ington's camp equipage, and a chair
which is said to nave come over in the
"Mayflower." The mantle in this room
was presented to Washington by an
Italian sculptor. It is inclosed by a
wire screen, so as to protect it from relic
hunters. In the oenter of this room is
a miniature of the Bastile, modeled out
of a block of granite, taken from the
celebrated prison. We were next con
ducted to the west parlor. This room is
unfurnished; but over the fire-place
bangs a picture of the battle ot Cartha
gena. It is so old that the figures can
not be deciphered. A portion of it is
gone, having been stolon by some relid
hunter. We now proceeded to the
second floor. Half-way up the stairs
was an old fashioned and odd-looking
clock. This was all that attracted our
attention until we entered the New Jer
sey room, the one
OCCUPIED BY LAFAYETTE
when he visited Mount Vernon. The
looking-glass and shaving-case are both
original. This was all that proved inter
esting in the room. The next two rooms
are furnished with old-fashioned furni
ture, but contains nothing original. Next
is the Maryland room, the ono occupied
by Nellie Custis. After this comes the
Virginia room, the one in which Wash
ington died. The bed and part of the
furniture is the same as when occupied
by Washington. Directly . above this
room is the Wisconsin room, the one in
which Mrs. Washington died. The bed
and part of th furniture are the same,
but the carpet and bed trimmings are
not original. However, they are made as
near like the original as possible. The
original carpet was made of rags and
cost thirty cents per yard, but the pres
ent carpet cost about 89 per yard. This
finished our tour of the house. We then
slowly retraced our steps, and camo out
upon the front porch. This is just the
same as it was when Washington sat
there and watched the crafts slowly glid
ing on the bosom of the Potomao. The
flags here are well-worn and faded; they
originally came from the
I8LB OP WIGHT.
Having a few hours to spare, we used
them in looking at the flowers and shrub
bery, aud conversing with one another
about tho Rebellion, Washington, and
other similar topics. At two o'clock we
were startled by the shrill whistle of the
steamer, which told us that it was time
to return to the bustle and business of
the great capital. On our way to the
steamer we were met by a negro who was
selling peach- stone baskets. He politely
informed us that he had been Washing
ton's body servant, and whenever he
wrml.1 Ant. nnv neaches and throw the
stones aside, why, he (the negro) would
pick them up and save them. By this
method he acquired a great many, and
was now selling them to mako a living.
He also gave us the startling information
that "George was a powerful eater." I
cannot vouchsafe the truth of this story,
and merely give it for what it is worth,
We arrived home about four o'clock
well pleased with our visit, and ex,
tremelv glad that we had seen the grave
of the immortal Washington.
Mount hood.
Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
Tho London Standard of a recent
date, according to a dispatch by cable,
contains this statement: "We under
stand that a marriage has been arranged
between Lady Burdett-Coutts and Mr.
Ashmead Bartlott, Member of Parlia
ment for Eye." This statement may be
true, but in view of the great disparity in
the ages of the parties named, it may
reasonably be received with caution.
The Lady Burdett-Coutts, whose im
mense wealth and philanthropio works
have rendered her ono of the most dis
tinguished personages of Great Britain,
has frequently been a victim to the
pranks of Madam Rumor. The reports
have boen very frequent of "arrange"
ments of a marriage between Lady
Burdett-Coutts and some one else, and
scarcely a year ago it was cabled that she
bad accepted the proposal of Henry
Irving, the actor, who at one time was
one of her guests on the cruise in the
Mediterranean, which she mado in her
yaoht. If the last report be true there
will be an analogy in this marriage to
that of George Eliot (Mrs. J. H. Dewes)
to Mr. Cross, though the disparity in the
ages of the parties will be still greater,
as Mr. Ashmead Bartlett is thirty-one,
and the Baroness Coutts is sixty-six.
The Ladv Burdett-Coutts was born in
18H, anil is the youngest daughter of
. . i-.- f -r, -i it 1 1.
tne law sir xranois Durueii, oaroaet.
Her fortune comes to her from her
maternal grandfather, Sir Thomas
Coutts, and she assumed his name when
she inherited his property. That was in
1837, upon tho termination of the life
interest of his widow, who was Miss
Mellon, the actress, before he marriod
ber as his second wife, and who died the
Duchess of St. Albans. Sir Thomas
Coutt's first wife, the grandmother of the
subject of this sketch, was Elizabeth
Starkoy, the daughter of a Lancashire
peasant, who was a servant in the em
ployment of a banker's brother until her
marriage made her one of the first ladies
of the kingdom. The Baroness received
her title in 1871. She received the free
dom of the city of London in 1872, and,
eighteen months later, the city of Edin
burg similarly honored her. At the end
of the last Russo-Turkish war the Sultan
decorated her with the praud cordon of
the order of Medjidie in recognition of
her services to the wounded. The esti
mation in which Bhe is held by the
people of England is shown by the fact
that when, in 1878, the reform proces
sion passed her house, she was recog
nized at the window, a shout was raised,
and for over two hours the air rang with
the cries of the thousands who filled the
street.
In 1872 the fortune of the Baroness
was estimated at 10,000,000, and up to
this time she has given awav for chari
table purposes fully 5,000,000. In other
words, after disposing of 325,000,000 for
the education and care of her fellow
people, she still held fully fi.'ty millions
01 dollars in investment, she is tne
richest single woman in England, and
her liberality in the distribution of her
vast fortune has commended her to
the admiration of the civilized world.
Remedy tor Couc. I send you a re
ceipt for the cure of colic in horses and
mules. I have never seen it fail to cure,
and have never had to repeat the dose.
Have been using it for two years repeat
edly. Carbolic acid (pure), 1 teaspoon
ful; con. tinct. nux vomica, 1 table
spoonful; lime water, 1 pint; water, half
pint; mix ana anaa. 11 uut rt-uevcu iu
a half heur. repeat. The carbolic acid
arrests the generation of gas in the
stomach and bowels, and the tinct. nux
vomica seta up the peristaltic action of
the bowels, which is so necessary to per
mit the eHcape of the generated gas, and
the lime water neutralize the .acid con
dition of the contents of the stomach
and bowels which gave rise to the gas.
Prehistoric Man.
About the latter Hurt nf 1
part of May a discovery ,u 1
Franklin eonntv M .7
---j , m..iuui wnirh
irreat interest and in.
0 "'('"'miiujb in iv
entifto world. Tliii. t. M'.u
part of the remains of a humsal,'
ion uiai. peruana antedates the J1
uie jxeanuorinai man. I will ,
facts as rolated to me hv n.
Booth, one of the oldost pi aethtin,
sicians of that county. Tim JsJ
cuHugi.ii ui uiiuiug jruii ore about
mil os from l)rv limnM, . (...:.
juiub Hum uua uuy, ana superiff
operations himself. About '
named, the miners, at a denth ni u
below the surface, uncovered am
nosed to view a slinll Ami . "
-"""i . o i'"' Mum oi Hi 1
piece of the vertebra and a nortm .,1
collar bone. There was also found J
wo uuuuo twu miit arrow-heads of
most primitive type, being imperfect
shape and barbed. A few pieJ
charcoal wore also found ot .1
umo nuu juuue. ui. imkhq u i1
ery, and tried to preserve evertti
found, but on touching the tnu
crumbled to dust, and some of the oii
bones broke into small pieces, aud t.
crumbled away, but enough ,
served to fully establish the fact
they are human bones.
Some fifteen or twenty dayg R
quent to the first finding, at a depti
24 feet below the surface other ,
were jounu, u luiyu none anil a titr
- Al. 1 -iH
01 me TiTHJutu mm several pie,
charred wood ally lying upon whs,
peared to be a piece of coarse nusJ
an 01 wnicn, excepi ine charred iJ
orumDieu 10 uust upon exposure to
air. The matting lay upon a fl.
soft but solid iron ore, which ytt
tains the imDrint of the threads i
lying these last bones was a Btratt?
what appeared to be loam or sod H
y to 3 inches thicK, below which,
deposit of soft red hematite ironon
incr upon two large boulders of hard
standing on edge, inclined at an aur-
about 45 degress, the upper ends led
against each other, thus forming 1 5
sidorable cavity, which wits filled t
blue speoular and hard red ore and t)
lying upon a floor of solid red hems-.
It was in this cavity that the bonea, t
ting and charred wood were found,
termixed with the ore.
The importance of this disown
the scientific world rests upon the "f j
that the ore bed in which the rem
were found lies in the second (or sue
roidal) sandstone of the lower aid
measures the oldest formation in v!
human remains have ever been foe
and the oldest stratefied rocks eicep
Cambrian and Laurentian.
It is to he regretted that the skull wf
not have been preserved, so as to ti
pare it with the Neandorthal and Lfl
Cave skulls. That it antedates thenl
bv many geological ages I think m
scarcely admit of a doubt when all t
facts are considered. The remains t
spoken of must have entered or been.
posited in a cave in the sandstone pit!
nus to tho deposition of the iron 0
Since its deposition the second magi
limestone and the nrst sandstone, il
overlie the second sandstone, and the
mains of which yet cap all the hills
that region, were formed, and have 6
denuded and washed away, leaving
iron near the surface upon the decli'
of the hills. That the place where
remains were found was a cave if r
denced by the formation, and by the
that loam or soil several feet thick is
found, though in a disturbed oonditi
This is accounted lor dv rouuoiiauie
jdenoe of upheaval in that whole rep
It is apparent from this view that I
bones found at the depth ol 18 feet
those of 24 teot belonged to the m
skeleton. The internal convulsion win
anHP(l the nnheaval. disturbedanil K
Wed tlin remains among the ore, le.
ing part above the floor of loam and si
and part below it. inai me cm
habited by men previous to the def
inn nf t.!in iron ore is Droved by the fi
ing of the stratum of loam or soil, a
the charred wood. Anouier im-i a
in proof. I am satisfied from anew
nation of the piece of iron ore bef
spoken of as retaining the imprint 0
nince of mattincr. that Dr. Bootn
mistaken in supposing it to be mtt
There is no regularity in the imprint
there would be if it '
woven or plaited matting. On the:
trary, the impressions cross each otw
nnnnmvulitn lirfptiOD. SHOT
conclusively to my mind that they k
have been caused by rushes or weeds,
perhaps small twigs used by the ink
thants of the cave as a bed.
fer;
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P
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;t,ai
How a Clerk Made His Fortune.
the Kothsc':.
agency from San Francisco througn
t itr0. runs! 4 Cnll"
ICbUCiUVUV V iu.t;ooau v , , ,
recalls an anecdote connected ;
house of Rothschild, which lUustr.
the prompt manner in which the mw
deal with their employes, wnen
Rotschilds decided on establishing
agency on this coast they were lor
time in doubt as to who should ; :
pany Mr. Davidson, who was detai eu
that purpose. Finally, Clerk oj
we shall call him, was requested
morning to step into the manager sol
Presenting himself there, he
how long it would take him pre)
ior a journey 10 t.imu(i .11
1 ' v. r.iitnrn; was. and t
IU JL11UW nunc vn"u".
long he should be required to UJ
no waa luwruicu w " V v. !lii
hitherto unknown land, and that n
idence there would be indetuwe
take time to consider before anwe
Pondering awhile, he replied Ut
should require a week to PnP
farewell to his friends. erJ ,,
said the head of the house, "you wu
informed should we decide on en
you," and so dismissed him. tier
2 was sent for, and the same f1
1 ' ; ko asked for
days. He also was dismissed inUM
ner, and o. a summuu.- -
-li 1 4 i. he require
2 1 v. i,t innrneV. nl H
i.T 1, lint" "errv
said the banker, "you sail to;mori
San Francisco, where you
partner in the house we are sboox
there.- The cien, wno .
to
ret
ild:
h
in
.
k.
ra
L
Ii
lo,
Je
at
cc
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ii
h
In
it
Qe
erj It
mement's notice to journey to w r,
aide of the world, was Juhus IU?:
v. tha foundation Of a t . :
aiw fcaaaaa muw bmv wr
ent fortune.