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About The new Northwest. (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887 | View This Issue
iUS. A. J. DFMITAT, Editor and froprlclor
OfFICE-Cor. Third nudWnshlnzlou Si
THRMS, IK ADVAKCE:
IADVBRTI8EMKKTS Inserted ou Iteasonable
f lor Uic Now Northwest.
ColU winter, with breath M Icy cliitl.
Thai It palnleg the btughof themurmurincrlll
And looks the earth In a cold embrace.
Sweeping Hie flowers avraj from her face,
And turning the flefclc all hrown and hare,
Where rattled the grain in the summer al
O, Earth, break aiwy from the cold winter
And weieome the warm mid beautliul snrlns
Breathe low,xentlewiudK,aiidnsecrct I'll tell
Aceeret I've guarded m Ions and co well
And III whlcper It low in your listening ear.
Ko the Idle and gmatpitlngonoti hall not hear
Kor my Mory by them would never le euomhi
How Fanny, the daughter of old farmer West,
Has owned that khe loves me, her face all
With a warm cfimMMi lltn.li luaiitlln: neck
And whan the June roses are blossoming fair,
Jjettaiae perfume to the warm cummer air.
"When the tree! are dressed In their emerald
When the afcy reumM Its deepening blue.
And the bright-winged song-bird's in!titrely
l noallng out from tlileket and tree,
she will twine the orange "buds in her hair,
And I ilMll claim my bride wj fair.
A.uu mtw, gnHue wind, that my secret vou
To the sunny HHtth haiihfli, warm breeze to
O'er the eW, barren earth, and awnken again
The buds and the flowers o'ur hill and o'er
For I-Vniiy,dear 1-Tanny, the treeet of girl.
With her roy-ml eheeks ami her Milniu;
Has owned llicushe loves me, sitting close by
And impatient Im waiting to claim my fair
bride. Isota Woirni
(Hot Hie Kew Northwest.
To Jr. nntl Mrs. jr. ir r.
" The angers wakened Julius
Out ot his painful slumber,
Willi tones of silvery music.
To come and Join their number.
They brought a crown ofglory
TIs ptoee on that dear brow;
Tboy wtiMpered, Jeu love yon;
Ooe,eome to Heaven now."
So to Uie golden city,
Wliwe sorrow enters never,
Titty bore yourdartlng Julius
To dwell with ChrUt forever.
.Sate from alt chilling sorrows,
In lhat land r love and light,
Fraefram life's wad to-morrows,
HedweiU an angel bright.
Then mourn not for your darl lug,
Ir wtten JeMt bids yon come.
He will be the flnrt to welcome you
T6 Heaven's "Home, Sweet Home."
ne Rtiilepe, the lowliest of men.
Ascends the scale with freedom's diadem.
Whilst woman sinks below her common
Slave to the brother who is but her ieer.
ELLEN DOWD, THEFABMEE'S WTTE.
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, In
the year 1SH, by Mrs. A. J. Dunlway, In the Of
fice of the Librarian of Congress at Washington
"O, ma'am," said Ellen, addressing
the lady, who had thrown herself pros-!
trateupou thegrassgrowu-mouud which , ,i0gs which Ziek, who made a precarious
covered the mortal remains of her poor living by the chase, kept all the while
child from sight, "can't you tell me all around him. Ziek had been busy smok
about my mother? I've learned to jug his pipe in the back door for an
rcau, ami i nave a story book that tells i
of fine houses and beautiful girls and ,
gay clothes and jewels, and I've won-
dered many a time if mother didn't, in .
her childhood, live among such scenes?
I've sotuchowctt it always, but I never
knew for certain."
ine cunustoou before them with her,
long, uiiKcmpt hair streaming in the
summer breeze, her jet-black eyes Hash- ;
jug, her bosom heaving, and hor beam- i
ing countenance expressive of the most ,
I will tell you all about it another .
time, my darling," replied Mrs. D'Arcy. !
"We must now see after Ellen's other i
children. Is this the grave of Peter
Dowd?" poiuting to the larger mound
beside the resting place of her daughter.
The child nodded yes, and Bouncer
threw himself across it and whined most
"Good Bouncer; dear Bouncer! be si
lent!" said Ellen, fondling the dog, who
arose upon his haunches and answered
her caress by licking her hand.
"May I call you grandmother, lady?"
tremulously asked the child.
"Certainly, my poor darling," clasp
ing the half-clad, barefoot waif in her
motlierly arms. "You must be my own
uear jsuen hereafter. Come now, and .
let us see the other children:"
iwo gins, ageil respectively eleven
ai ieie years, were buy in the low-1
wnicii, in spue of abject pov-1
erty, was refreshinclv britrlit mill nlonn
One was engaged with a pair of cards
and a pile of well picked wool, which
she was forming into rolls for .the spin
ning wheel, that her sister was plying
with a cheerful, whirring noise with
hicli hor brown, bare feet and war
ming oico Kept merry time aud tune.
"I don't believe EH0n will ever learn
to earn her salt," sai,l she of the card
as she vigorously plied her self-imposed
to be a poor family tliat
one lady." w.i . !...,
laughing reply of the hemi,m r
wheel. "Butsec.shter! Yonder COm
vitn,. T,.,i! . .?.trooniC8
- VI L lie
Ellen, leading two grand stran
to the door; and she's talking with 'em
as though she might have known 'em
all her days."
The work ,of each was instantly
dropped, aud'hoth.with fluttering hcarfe,
prepared to greet the visitors.
"My Bisters, Ann and Kate; grand -
lather aud grandmother D'Arcy," said
. .. . . - - 3 '
"' " 11 ' " " nr-ir imrMi aim ii in. 1, inmi. i in. .. I I mmn - i m i
Ellen, proudly ; but her eyes fell when
she observed the critieal gaze of her
new-found relatives as they surveyed
the squalid surroundings of the rabln
and the scant attire or the girls.
"There's but one D'Arcy in the lot,"
said the old gentleman, aside. "Ann
and Kate are nothing more nor less
than Tcter Dowds all over."
Mrs. D'Arcy embraced the children,
who shyly returned her mute caress, and
then timidly gave their hands to their
grandfather, whose greeting was some
what severe and haughty
"Did j ou have no better home than
this while Peter Dowel was living?"
queried he, with emphasis, as he sur
veyed the cabin in scorn and sorrow.
"Mother never complained to any
body, and if she could put up witii such
a home as this without grumbling,
don't see why anybody else should oh
jeet," said Ellen, proudly, and her black
eyes Hashed like diamonds.
"You're a D'Arcy that's very plain,
my dear," replied her grandfather, put
ting her approvingly unon the head.
" Grandfather, " continued Ellen,
"you've traveled far to sec us, and we've
no accommodations for your team ; so,
if you'll go with me to Uncle "Jacob
Graham's, I'll get your horses quartered
in his barn. lie's a stingy old Jellow,
some people say, but he's always good
to me. He'll do anything I ask him to
"First let us go to see the other sis
ters. - I must see how many D'Arcy's
the family can show before I can pay
anv further heed to horses."
So it was decided that Ann and Kate
should prepare dinner for the visitors,
while Ellen would accompany them to
"O, grandmother," said the child, "I
love Sarah ever so much! She was only
ten years old when mother died, and I
was left a tiny baby on her hands, and
he took care of me like a real mother
for four long years ; and then she got
married at fourteen to an old bachelor
of fifty, who was always kind to us, and
now she has five babies and poor health,
and I do expect to sec her dio and leave
them all for me to raise."
Thus the child rambllngly explained,
giving the grandparents such insight
into the past life of the family, and pre
paring them by degrees to loam of the
hopeless past of Ellen D'Arcy, and of
the equally forbidding prospects that
i opened before her children.
i Sarah was busy at the wash-tub. Her
' five little ones were playing iii dirt and
rags on the cabin lloor, and she, with
hollow eyes, bent form and aching back
and limbs, was struggling for life over
the wash-board, at work for which she
was not fitted,
Ellen prevailed upon her relatives to
halt a little way from the house while
she should go ahead and apprise her sis
ter of their visit; but she was foiled in
j)er intentions bv
a bevy of barkinsr
hour or two, never thinking once of
lending a helping hand at the drudgery
at which his minv wife was occunied.
He had very shortly after marriage laid
aside the gray backwoods toggery in
which the reader last beheld him, and
U0Wj JW lie blow m lllu jow. door-way,
with his gray eyes shining feebly from
behind his shock of carrot-colored hair,
which had become well llecked with
gray, his long arms hanging limp and
motionless over his high hip bones, his
iiuge iists half open, aud his bristling,
wcck-old beard besmeared witii tobacco
juice, he looked, as in truth he was, the
personification of the aimless back
woodsman, who, living as a beast of
prey, is but very few removes above the
wild animal which he slays and devours.
"Zick Hamilton, my grandfather and
grandmother D'Arcy," -said Ellen,
promptly, as her brother-in-law came
slowly out to meet them.
Sarah straightened her tired back,
wiped her hands and face on her apron,
hurriedly endeavored to quell the riot
of the noisy children and put the much
disordcreil room to rights, ami then
awkwardly advanced to welcome the
"There's D'Arcy blood here, hut It's
very much diluted by the Dowd's," In
wardly commented the old gentleman
Then aloud, "How old are you, Sarah ?"
"Twenty last Christmas sir."
"And the mother of five children!
Sir," turning to the old man Ziok, who,
having hitched the horses to a post
now entered with a swaggering gait,
"there ought to be a law to take this
child away from you."
"Tan my hide for sole leather, ole
man, if I submit to such abuse from you
t , ....
.iisk. natiy mere wno helped to raise
l'etc Dowd's family? Yes, .' while
you, with your fine airs and high-toned
uignity, stayed away from the seven or
phans, leaving 'em to starve, these
bauds aud legs and eyes, with the help
oi siaunen oiu Jituuaii yonder, kept 'em
I Vr .t , '
affwllonalcly pointed to his
in pcrvisious," and he exultantly aud
if. I . a . . .
rule as it
hung on its pegs over the mantle.
Alas, alas," was the old gentleman's
answer, "from the day in which my
poor, infatuated child eloped with Peter
Dowd, I never learned of her where
abouts until six weeks ago. From the
been busy prosecuting this journey Oh
, Ellen, my loved and lost, why did you
- ui ucx uuiu HOW i uavc
POTtTIVTSTO, OBEGON, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY O, 1S7S.
not let your loving, auxious father know
that you had need of him?" and the
old man bowed his head and wept.
Grandmother D'Arcy asked Sarah
and Ellen to lake seats beside her, and
grasping the hand of each, she sat there
mute and silent.
"Grandmother," said Sarah, "it is not
right for you to blame my husband. He
has been kind to my mother's children,
and it is my duty to be a good, obedient
wife. I know my lot is hard, but I am
trylnsr my best to bear it. Ziek is
always kind to me, and I would be con
tented, only I know that a woman as
young as I, who has already borne five
children, and lives in daily dread of her
life for fear she will have others, is liv
ing too fast to livelong; and my greatest
grief Is that I will soon go like poor
mother did, and leave my helpless
family upon the charily of the world.
Ziek is old, and of course can't live
many years, and I don't know what's to
become of the children."
"Pshaw"! Sally. "Women arc born to
havechildrcn. Motherhood's their nor
mal sphere," said Ziek. "If you hadn't
wanted to raise a family, you had no
business to get married! There was
many a likely girl m incse parts that
would have jumped at the chance to get
Ziek Hamilton. I've always provided
lots of victuals, and our clothes are as
good as our neighbors. I can't see what
the nation a woman wants with any
thing more or better."
"I iuarrieL you because it was my
duty, Ziek. And I would go on without
complaining all 1113- days, only I know
how mother li ved, and died, and how her
children suffered, and the thought that
Ellen here," pointing to the eldest, aged
five years, "will follow in my footsteps
s almost more than I can hear."
"Ole man, we must look out some
place to put j-our horses, I reckon. How
long do you mean to quarter on its?"
asked Ziek, endeavoring to turn the
"Ellen and I have settled that matter,
sir. I do not wish to accent your hospi
tality. Come, mother, let's go," and
the old gentleman arose and left the
cabin, turning as he spoke to his
daughter's eldest born a" sad, alfectlonate
good-bye. "You owe no rightful con
nubial obedience to a brute like that,
poor child," said he. The grandmother
embraced and kissed her granddaughter,
and left her there, gazing after the car
riage with longing eyes and aching
heart. Poor child! She little knew
that that ardent desire for further inter
course with the dear old couple was the
result of her own antenatal circum-
stauccs; and as she turned, with tearful
countenance aud weary feet, to renew
her exertions over the wash-tub, her
master's comments smote upon her brain
"I'd a plaguey notion to turn that ole
man out of my house," said Ziek. "If
he ever dares to insult me or cross my
path again, I'll boot him that's flat!
Vhat right had he to come sncakin'
round here, meddlin' in my business?"
"I don't think grandfather meant to
meddle, Ziek. He sees that I am dying
by Indies, and he kindly told you so."
'Dyiti' be darned ! You're good for a
dozen younguns yet. You've never had
to go hungry a day since you knew Ziek
Hamilton." And Ziek, whose idea of
pigs and women wcro upon the same
plane, could conceive of nothing In
which he had over been remiss 111 word
The D'Aroys wept in silence as they
slowly wended their way back to the
children's cabin home. Ellen, poor
child, saw that they were overwhelmed
with sorrow, and not knowing what to
say, wisely held her tongue.
Meanwhile Ann and Kate were busy
with the preparation of the noon repast.
The fire-place was not used in the sum
mer scxon, so an out-door fire was kin
dled in the shade of a friendly tree,
where tho inevitable dodgers were
baked in the ashes, close by the side of
half dozen large potatoes. Meat was
broiled on the coals, and coffee made of
parched corn, without sugar or cream,
was prepared as a substitute for the
D'Arcys' favorite beverage, A few
onions, gathered from n meager vege
table garden In a near-by field, were
added as a relih, and, to the surprise of
tho old couple, they enjoyed the rude
repast very much.
Dinner over, the three children ac
companied them to Uncle Jacob Gra
ham's residence, where, as Ellen had
promised, they were able to get ac
commodations for their team.
Aunt Betsey, now considerably stooj)-
shouldcred and very badly wrinkled,
weak and pale from excitement over
the advent of the strangers, blustered
about the house in a feeble, hurried
'"Pears to me," she said sharply, "as
thouch the Lord had sent you, -V?
Darcy, Though, for that matter, why
He didn't scud you many years ago is
more 'n I can tell. But then we cau't
account for the ways o' Providence."
"I s'posc you'll be takiu' the children
home with you, ole man?" queried
"I'll never go unless they'll let me
take old Bouncer!" interrupted Ellen
"I won't go auyhow!" said Ann.
"Xor II" ejaculated Kate.
"Hold on, little ones," said the old
gcutlcmau with a smile; "1 haven't
asked any ofyon to accompany me yet."
(To be continued.)
Fcee Speech, Fret. Pbes3, Fjiee TEorrr.
For the Kcw IJorlhwest.
THE WAYS0r LIPE.
"So, my dear, you wish to know how
I became acquainted with "William
Wilson. "Well, bring your chair a little
nearer the fire and hand me my sewing.
I will have to relate some very sad por
tions of my life, but then
Into each life some rain must fall,
Home dayx be dark and dreary.'
I first remember "William AVilson as a
line boy of five summers. His mother
brought him to our house at that age.
Widow "Wilson was cok hi my father's
establishment, prcfering that position to
a more lucrative one-, as she could keep
her boy with her. Faithfully for eight
long years she performed her daily task,
when death suddenly removed her to a
Being an only child, I would often
slip down to the kitchen to see Willie.
You may be sure I enjoyed those visits.
Willie would bring out his little store of
books anil read to me or explain the
pictures. (By the way he was a betW
scholar than I). His mother had given
him every advantage that her means
would allow, and being naturally a
bright boy, he hail received several
prizes from his teachers for good schol
arship. After we had looked at the
bool:s until we were tired, I would sing
for him, or if the weather was fine, we
would play in the garden. In thoe
happy days I thought as much of Willie
as though he had been my own brother.
One brignt spring morning Willie and
I were in the garden working, diligently
laying out a miniature Uower bod, when
I was startled by hearing my mother say,
Kate, whose boy is that ?'
I replied, 'it's Willie.'
'But who is Willie?' she continued.
Willie now came forward, cap in hand,
and answered, 'WUIle Wilson, ma'am;'
butseelng herpuzzled look he explained
'the cook's boy.'
'Well, sir, I never want you to pre-
sumo to speak to my daughter again.
Now be oil'!'
At that the blood rushed ib his face,
but before he could say a word,! had un
arms about his neck. 'O Willie,' I cried.
'don't be angry. I hall always love
'Yes, Kittle,' he replied, 'and I shall
always lore you, and iioIkmIv can hinder
My mother took me by tho arm and
led me away saying, 'Willie is a bad,
bad boy, and I am surprised that a child
of mine could forget herself so far as to
associate with a poor eoo; boy. What
would the world say? Has my dear
Kate forgotten her mamma's position in
But when I persisted that 'Willie wits
:i good boy the very best boy that ever
lived,' she silenced me by saying that she
would hear no more about him, but if I
were a good girl she would have cousin
Carrie and Frank Steadmau come and
spend the summer with me.
I didn't want Frank to conic. The
last time he had been to sec me he chop
ped my new doll's head oil; and then
Carrie would take all my nice dishes
and toys from me. 1 didn't liko her one
My mother left mo at the nursery
door, with strict onlors to Jane, the
nurse, not to let me go out unless she ac
companied me. Jsursc wasa person
after mother's own heart. Considering
poverty a crime, she was always re
minding nieof my station. So I knew
that Willie and I were as thoroughly
sciaratwl as though tho ocean rolled be
tween us. But what does a child care
for station? I In my Icnoranee (and
my mother deplored It) considered all
men free and equal.
That evening, when my father came
home, I wanted him to tell me why it
was wrong to be poor.
Ho asked mo 'who had put such an
idea into his little girl's head?'
I then told him about Willie, and that
mother had forbidden me to play with
him liecausc he was the cook's son and
He said that simple jwvprty was not a
crime, but that vice wa, and the poor
were more apt to be vicious thau the
wealthy. Still he did not want his
daughter to associate with any one she
would bo ashamed to acknowledge as
an acquaintance among her friends.
I ashamed of Willie ! I was sure I
never should be, no difference what hap
pened. My father inquired, 'If you were a
young lady wouiii you hkc to ue
seen walking the streets with Tom, t,he
'Xo,' I replied, 'I would not like to be
seen with Tom. Ho is drunk nearly all
the time. But Willie never will be like
'In all probability,' continued my
father, 'he will be nothing but a servant,
and It is best you should have nothing
more to do with him.'
I was silenced, but ever after If I had
a nice book that I thought Willie would
like, it was sure to find its way to the
kitchen. But I nevcrsawhim until the
day of his mother's death, which hap
pened six years afterward. When I
heard of his bereavement, I ran down to
find him and offer my sympathy. I
was surprised. Could that greaj boy be
my Willie? But there was 110 mistak
ing when he looked up and said, 'O,
Kfttle, Is it you ?' and thcu burst into
tears. I tried to soothe him, hut it was
some lime before he could speak. He
then sobbed, 'you are all I have to love
now, Kittle. I expect I will have to go
away from here, and then I may never
see you again.'
His fears were unfounded. He had
grown so useful in running errands,
scouring the knives and washing dishes,
that lie was allowed to remain.
Six months passed, hut I saw very lit
tle of him. One morning I was in the
parlor waiting the return of my father.
My mother had gone to a party, and I
was alone. A sense of sadness stole over
me. I sat down to the piano to try and
dispel the gloom. As I ran my fingers
over the keys I heard a "suppressed sob,
and on looking round I beheld Willie
lying on the sofa with his face buried
in h!s hands. I ran to him and asked :
What is the trouble, and why are you
He said he had come to bid me good
bye, and that he was going to the Far
West to try and find some otitis father's
relations, and begged me to play and
sing one song for him before he went. I
sang till he said ho could stay no longer.
Then taking a locket from my neck that
contained my likeness I placed it in his
hand, telling him to always think of me
as his true friend.
'But, Kittle, said he, 'I would rather
have one of your curls. It would be
better than your picture, for It would be
part of yourself.'
'You shall have them both,' I replied;
and selecting one of the glossiest he sev
ered it from my head witii his pocket
knife. Then, after an affectionate fare
well, he went forth alone to seek his for
tune among strangers.
It was late before my father came
home, and when he entered the room
where I was he seemed not to notice me,
although I moved a chair to the fire for
him. He looked pale and haggard. I
inquired if he were sick. A shake of the
head was all the answer. I thought
perhaps he was tired ami did not wish to
talk. I knew that when he was wearv
or perplexed he liked me to sing for!
him. I went to the piano, and playing
an accompaniment, commenced his fa
vorite, 'Home, Sweet Home.' While 1
was singing the second verse I was
startled by hearing him groan. I went
to him and laying my hand 011 his
shoulder I found that he was trembling
vidlently. I asked:
'Are you sick? ShalLXieud for a
'No,' said he, 'I am not sick, but I
want to talk with you.' Then putting
an arm around my waist, he drew me
close to him and told me that all his
vast wealth had been hazarded in an
unfortunate speculation, and that now
he was penniless and would have to go
out into this unfriendly world to battle
Witii all the hopefulness of youth I
tried to comfort him, telling him how
pleasant it would be to live in a cottage
where, when he came home in the even
ing, I could spread the table and make
the tea with my own hands for him.
While I was speaking the door opened,
and my mother and a strange gentleman
entered. She walked up to my father
and asked :
'Is all this I hear about you true?
Have you really failed?'
He replied, 'All Is gone.'
'You know, James Carter,' she went
on, 'that I married you for your wealth.
Now that it is gone, I too will go. I
never loved you that you know but
while I thought my old lover false I en
dured you. Now that ho has returned
and proved trne I may yet be happy.'
Then, taking the stranger's arm, she
was about to leave the room. I ran to
'O, mother, what do you mean? Yon
are not going to leave me?'
But she pushed me away, saying:
You are the picture of your father. I
do not want to be troubled with any
thing that will remind me of him."
I knew I had my father's dark hair
and eyes, hut could my mother forsake
me? Could a mother be so heartless?
I turned to my father for comfort, but
he sat motlonlesu, gazing Into the fire.
For some moments he remained thus;
then, rising hastily, sought his chain
I scarcely know how I passed the
night. The next morning I remember
a servant coining to my room to say
that breakfast had been waiting two
hours and she had rung the bell several
times, but that my father had not yet
left his room. I ran to his room and
knocked, but received 110 answer,
then tried the door. It was fastened.
called repeatedly, but could get 110 re
ply. I became frightened, and, cal!ln-
for John, had him burst open the door
On first entering I thought the room
empty, but, going up to a great arm
chair, that stood with Its back to the
door, I was astonished on beholding mv
father. There he sat, with his head
thrown back. The moment I beheld
his face I knew that I stood in the pres
ence 01 ueatu. 1 remember of scream
Ing. Then there is a blank in my life of
nearly two months, hen my mind
returned I was surprised to find that I
was in a strange place. Every object
that met my gaze was new to me.
tried to sit up, but found that I was too
weak even to turn myself. I attempted
to call some one, but my voice died
away iuto a strauge whisper. I thought
1 had been piaceu mere to die alone.
My agony was great. I doubt much If
there are many irsons who hufferwl as
x urn at mat time. I must have made
some noise, for a. large, red-faced Irish
woman rame and stooped over me. She
asked, 'Do ye know me, honey?' 1
shook my head. I had never seen her
before, hut she seemed satisfied, and
when she had straightened my pillow
and placed me in a more comfortable
position, I felt that I had a friend near
me. Then, taking her work, she sat
down by my bed.
I managed to articulate, 'Where is
'Ye must be quiet, darling,' said she.
'e have been very sick and must not
I could do nothing but lie still and
study that, strange face, so different
from those I had been accustomed to
have near inc. Soon
'Tired Nature's sweet rcktorer, balmy sleep,
stoic over me. I think it must have
been the next day that I repeated my
Very gently my new friend told me I
was at my uncle Steadman'a; that my
father was dead and my mother had 1 tin
away with a man she had loved in her
youth. Buther parents, not approving
the match, had by some means induced
, . . ' . . . ...
him to leave their neighborhood, then
finally persuaded her that he was fnlse,
and thus prevailed 011 her to marrv mv
txior father for his wealth " '
poor iamer lor 111s w eaun.
(To be concluded nest week. ,
This department of the Nkw Nor.Tir
WKST is to be a general vehicle for ex
change of ideas concerning any and all
matters that may be legitimately dis
cussed iuourcolumns. FIndingit practi
cally impossible to answer each corres
pondent by private letter, we adopt this
mode of communication to save our
friends the disappointment that would
othenviscaccme from our inability to an
swer their queries We cordially invite
everybody that has a question to ask, a
suggestion to make, ora scolding to give
to contribute to the Correspondents'
C. H. S., San Francisco: Your favor
of the 22d of January has come to hand,
with P. O. order inclosed. The address
appears in this issue.
Mrs. O. F. W., Arcadia, W. T.: Do
not know jti.t what the frieght on the
sewing machine would be. Will let you
know, however. You have authority
to canvass just as much and wherever
you please. Hope you will meet with
Mrs. S. C. W., S:ui Francisco: Your
note and clippings camo to hand. You
have indeed had trouble. There is
a brighter and happier world beyond,
where the loved and lost in this will be
restored to its.
A correspondent writes as follows from
Greenville: "In your last paper I saw
a wish that some one would send a re
cipt to cure chilblains. I warrant this
a speedy cure: Take a little vinegar and
as much salt as will disol vein it, and ap
ply morning and evening withacotten
rag. The pain will not last over four
or five applications."
TO THE LADIES 0F.THE JAPANESE
In the name of the women of Amer-
cia, the undersigned, representatives of
the State Central Woman Suffrage Com
mittee of California, welcome to our
country the women of the Japanese Em
We congratulate you on your safe ar
rival, and truly hope your sojourn
among us will be lioth pleasant and
We recognize in this visit of the Em
bassy, of which you form a part, not
only the enlarging of our commercial
interests, but the forming and strength
enlngof social ties, which make of all
nations one family.
The women of Japan and America
have, we feel, great reason for encour
agement in view of the marked change
In lioth of these countries in favor of en
larging the educational advantage of
Your vNit to this country has an cs
pedal significance to those women of
America who have been and are laboring
for the rights and privileges belonging
to a broader field of action than has be
fore been open to them; and they rejoice
that this movement is simultaneous in
Japan and other nations, marking, as it
does, a new era in the history of the
With best wishes and kind regards,
Mas. Emzaketu T. Scunxcir,
Tiik Social Evil. Bishop Hunting
ton's report on the "Social Evil" says:
"Only let it not be forgotten that in the
measure of guilt man shares with wom
an equally at the last. He is oftcner the
tempter or iustigator, and his account
ability must be in tho same degree
greater. It sins common to two parties;
the strong is not loss culpable than the
feeble ; the betrayer thau the betrayed ;
the perjured promisor than the victim.
So it will be certain to appear at the
last, when all false partialities pass
away, traditional sophistries arc torn
open, secret things are brought to light,
and unerring justice is done. If we have
here a more direct regard for one sex
than the other, it is only because more
svmnathv is due to that oue, and be
cause a reformation there is of greater !
cause a reiormation there is 01 greater;
importance to the health, the home and :
the virtue of future generations.'
A Jourij.'it far the People
Independent In ToUtlcs and Heltglon.
Ulve to all Live Issues, and, Thoroughly
Radical In Oppo?IneandExpos(n2tJie Wrong!
oi the Mn-e.
Correspondent writing nveraammod slena-
turcs must make known their name-; -to the
Editor, or no attention will be Btyon to. tuetr,'
The Mmbeam tile?.,
Nor arts what star it greet;
The raindrop hies
Nor xeelcs the enp it meets.
A fountain down,
Thoughtless what Joy it wakev.
Yon tlimit r..
Nor at whom thon shall ble.
A "Wonderful Lawsuit.
One of the greatest wonders
tune is me Tichlinmn ii,.-o,.
J,0!1.3 r,tilcJ5al ,reay " P to more
man 4i.u,uw. in order to meet this
heavy outlay the claimant of tuoTioh
bome estate issued bonds to tho amount
of 100,000. Besides the funds thus re
ceived, lie has tho personal inheritance
left him by Lady Tichbonie, who before
her sudden death in 1SS0 owned him as
her son and made him her heir. Her
recognition of the impostor, if ho bo. an
impostor, is one of the puzzling circum
stances of the case. We add the follow
ing particulars :
In 1851 the real Tichbonie was report
ed lost in the British ship Bella, the
vessel being supposed to have perished
in the Atlantic with all 011 board. In
Mr Jtoger Tichbonie. tlm fhtlinr
died, when his Younger son took tho fii
i H and entered into possession of the
j ,01,?tIy, fVL'h -rVl11 V!lv,e bcIonged to
the oldest son if he had been alive.
jjjy Tichbonie, it seems, still ente
tallied a hope that her oldest son was
s,tnl -Jh've and might be found, and
tcrofpre, 111 1S03, she put an advertise-
ment hl the Tlmcg nnmjnt ti,e in
I wh j h he .s snid to j , lost and
earnestly caning lor iniormation con
cerning him. Two years having elapsed
without any answer to this call, the
lady was surprised by a letter from a
lawyer named (jibbs, in New South
Wales, which stated that a portion of
the Bella's passengers had hcn saved
by a ship bound for Australia, anil had
been taken to Melbourne. The lawyer
then requasted her to give him a de
scription of and details concerning the
person whom the advertisement called
for, that he might search for him. To
this letter Lady Tichborne at once re
plied, suggesting that if her son had
been saved, he might probably have
changed his name and married and she
also offered a large reward for success in
hunting up the lost heir. A few montlis
afterwards she received a letter inform
ing her that the lost one was found, and
under the name of Do Castro was living
in Wagga-Wagga. After a few months
more she received a letter signed Itoger
Tichbonie, in which she was asked to
forgive him for his long silence, which
he would explain when they met. She
I was also asked to send the writer JES0O
! to defray his expenses to England, as he
wished to return home immediately.
As the handwriting of the letter was
strauge to her, Lady Tichborno did not
answer this letter, but she wrote to
Gibbs, the lawyer, that she could not
recognize her son without seeing him.
In reply to this communication she re
ceived a letter with a photograph.
Though her son had been tall aim slen
der when she last saw him, while the
picture represented a very corpulent
person, she fancied that she detected
some traces of resemblance, and there
fore sent the passage money asked for.
Toward the end of 1SCG Do Castro ar
rived in Knglaud, hut instead of at once
going to see Lady Tichbonie, who was
in raris, he took lodgings with a lamily
named Orton, in Wapping, people who
formerly lived near the Tiehbornes, and
were perfectly familiar with their fami
ly history. Only after a considerable so
journ in Wapping he went to Paris, and
was at once recognized by Lady Tich
bonie as her son. L'ntil her death, three
years afterward, he was so looked upon
and treated by her, but by the rest of
the family he was regarded as an im
postor and Ids claims to the propertj' in
dignantly denied. Looking at the naked
faets of the case most people, no doubt,
agree with them.
The true Hosier Tichbonie was delinatn
aud refined in appearance. The claim
ant is very lat and coarse. The true
lloger was carefully educated, and spent
many years In France, where he became
perfectly familiar with the French lan
guage. The claimant can hardly utter a
sentence without betraying the defects
of his education, and knows not a word
of French. When the true Roger em
barked on his last voyage ho had a large
sum of money standing to his credit in
hank, money never drawn for, whereas
the claimant had to beg for 200 to Tiay
his passage to England. A severe attack
of disease affecting the brain may do
much in oversetting the constitution
and changing the appearance, but hard
ly so much as is assorted in this case.
On the other hand the claimant displays
the most astonishing familiary with the
English life of Roger Tichborne, even
with minute details which it would seem
impossible for a pretender to master.
His power of explanation, also of re
moving difficulties and meeting objec
tions so as to give plausibility and con
sistency to his story, is said to bo amaz
ing. The ablest lawyers are thwarted
anil confounded by him. If " i",
poster, who picked up his knowledge of
Kr Tichlmrup's early life and family
history at second IUm
rv makes him a marvel. It must, how -ever
be -mentioned that dozens of wit
nesses of unimpeachable veracity, who
knew the missing heir, recognize in him
the much kidgered claimant. It must,
moreover, be admitted that the attempt
in which he is engaged was a very uii
Iikelv entprprise or tne son of a butcher,
settled in Australia, to undertake. Sonie
readers may need to bo told that those
who dony his Identity with Roger Tich
borne believe that his real name is Or
ton, and that he Is the son of the family
with whom he lived in Wapping on his
first arrival in England. And their hope
at present is to find evidence in Austra
lia to substantiate that view. The pro
cess may yet last for months, or even
A THiniln Tl llnl mill Imsllpfill anU
by two railroads for attempts tobbsWct
their tracKs. jus excuse was iu.in-v
had to take a log of wood home, anil if
the State is not big enough for him to
lay down a load in it without blocking
all the railroads, the fault lies with
somebody. besides-him. -
man says that a
woman s niam. , ..,-,irws.-i,
changes continually but always ha5a
mau 111 it.
-i iiaimaSm..c . -rfiu.apsi
oily" Is what an Ohio critic cans la
iTiimv seu.ii una"