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About The new Northwest. (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 16, 1874)
a tw . . ; y.-- V i MRS. A. OmCE-ror. Onevar Hii humiUm- ThreejnHMiUak. AI)VBIlTISBMKN18IiiertPtl oil Reasonable IX MEVOKIAM. The fcttowlnskMKitlHcllllIegm Iras vrrttten In mamety of late Henry lilnl, of tltls eJty, who varboiN inter Uth, 1815, and tiled AllUt3e, 1K7J. Again our heart arc Mrlekon down By xorrow'n deepest night, A mournfully we bow beneath Tlie fell Irroyer, Might. A lorlnc wile mut ylW her claim, Hot Doatb, with stimi deoree, Ob pale wult- hors.wttli toy the and tpcar. GomruaudHh, -"Come to me." Long, wear? montbi with fell dlefi Ills manly form did prostrate lie, For wife auJ children dung to lilin, And Ob, 'twas bard to see him die! Bat look: above the jcttKHii of death Appear Hie rainbow lints of lite; "There Is uo death !" bright aeraplis nine; "Be of govt cheer, poor stricken wife." lfi loved oui'i tow in deep dlmrosi, Yet Hope 1mH forth a Mntlly my. And upward polriu, with fair, -while hand, To realm of brtsht, eternal day. See! the loving KaviorainltcH, Awl beckon him a way; Dry your leant, ye mourning ones, YHir loved one must obey. Dear -wile, loved daughters, grieve n wore; Your loved one h not dead. Hut ouly gone the way of life "Which all t iu luuat tread. Food ons, remember that yon may Meet blm In realm or light. If ever htrivlng to obey The will Divine aright. And White we In our dhrfaut home Johi with you all in grief, We.errowwtth the Christian' hops That ever brines relief. Then unto him a Ion bivwell We toarftrily must ay. Till happily w meet above To d well in undies, Ella. MaeuMttogbanj, II!., October IS, IsTX JUDITH MILES; OK . bo Do ue What Slinll mill Her? nv sirs, r. r. victor. Enteral, aeeonilD;; to the Act of Congress in the year IKS, by Mrs. p. F. Victor, In the uraeeorme ij&nu-ian of Cotign-M. at Washing ton Oiiy. CJfAITBR VII. FIT. I, OF TMFRLE. The California spring does not, by a gradual increase of verdure, ripen Into an exbuberant summer, as in the At lantic States. On the contrary, with the close of May has come also the end of growth in grass and leafage, while the yellow ripeness of the last of June might be that of the August harvest in the East. Such a pale ochre-tint Is now spread over the landscape which in cludes the Spedden and Miles ranchos. Two or three miles away from the Miles residence a yellow tinge of color Indi cates ripened grain, and here and there a strip of tule land bordering a stream, or a cluster of live oaks, relieves the eyo by a darker huo of brownisk-green. On oithcr hand, to the east or west, noble mountain ranges frame the valley In with undulating, 'cloud-like masses of violet and purple, cobalt and rose, according to distance, light and shadow. As the cloudless sunset fades, the full moon, an orb of dusky gold, leans for a moment on a ridge of the Si erras, then mounts, brightening and flooding the valley with a mellow radi ance that blends harmoniously with the ripe and peaceful aspect of the whole scene. The summer has passed lolteringly to Judith, to whom nothing has changed elthor agreeable in the present or prom ising for the future. Jack Miles has only grown more dissatisfied and rest less, more reckless and threatening in his talk, and more arbitrary and suspi cious In bis demeanor. Again and again he has declared his intention of returning to Texas the moment he can get his price for his land; failing In that, to leave the land for Boone, and selling oil lus stock, go anyway. Anything to get out of the cursed country. What he is waiting for now Is the return of his son with money for the purchase of an outfit. "When Boone comes, which will bo soon, ho will be independent of the Yankees and Butch, and can go or stay as ho pleases, d n them! but he will not. Judith has listened so often to all the wearisomo and heart-sickening talk about tho country, the Dutch, the Yan kees, and going back to Texas, mingled often with covert threats of revenge for injuries inflicted by Spedden's agent, who, in a general way, was accountable for all the rest, that she had come to shrink from It as from physical pain. Since tbevisit of Mrs. Parker, in the spring, no calls had been made at the Miles mansion except such as were of a purely business nature; nor had any company set down at tho Miles table, except an occasional wayfarer who begged to be allowed to share tho family meal. Even Mr. Shultz seemed to have doserteil Judith sluce the aflalr of the shooting, by whieh his left arm had been temporarily disabled. The only reminder or his friendship that had reached Judith in all these weeks was a package of choice periodicals, brought by a vacquero not a native. If she spec ulated about the reason of this desertion of her patron, it was not unnatural that sho should put that and that together and conclude that her father's inuendos against Mr. Shultz's private aflairs had some foundation In fact. But she was too tenacious of her Ideal to acknowl edge her hero culpable, whsn It was so rro,,t nua siaruswrt K I Jfcl5W . L , 1 11, (1 iU HI J m INI II Si Kl I HI HI' Ugsai - e LIU V ' I voicnviE hi. much more probable that he was the victim of circumstances. His roasons for staying away were undoubtedly good ones; but good or bad, they did not concern her, who had no right to ex pect that he would come rather every ground for belelving that he would stay away considering the open hostility of her father. But oh, how wearisome it was to be always waiting waiting! and she could not help waiting. She presumed that it was because her life was so mo notonous that unconsciously to hersnlf sho hoped for something to happen or somebody to come. Well, Boone must be at home before long. TJtcrc was something to anticipate. He wonli! h cheerful and hopeful, and would have ever so much to tell her that would be Interesting. Thus mused Judith, gazing out upon flln mnnn.llnlif 1 n .1 ..... i.0., .iiuw.-aiie iromncriittlc attic window. She livml ever in her attic now, to escape from the gloomy aud threatening looks and language of her father. As she irazed and mused, a tramping of horses' feet, and the sound of her father's voice call ing her, couseda wild hope to spring up iu tier uearc. "Has Boouo come, Pan?" she cried out through tho darkness of the sitting room, as she hurried to join him in the porch. '"Boone? No!" he said, sharnlv. as if the question hurt him. "Here's Tim Parker with his cussed news about In- un massacres. He's allers trot some tale or nulher a perfect ole woman fur tales! 'Pears like he don't like nothiu' bettcr'n ter kerry news. Who tole ye thet?" he asked fretfully of Tim. "One o' Sklmmerhorn's boys over tho rivor," replied Tim, who was offended by Miles reception of his news. "Waal, neow, ye needn't put on any frills, kase I want ter know." Miles said. a little less offensively. "I heerd it from some miners a-trav- llu' up this way. They Mowed tho In juns hev tooken Arizona. Thev was druv out ov the mines tetotally." "Keckon Boone bed sold his cattlo afore," returned Miles, dropplne his ag gressive tone, and speaklug reflectively. xiow long mout them miners a-bcen sence they quit?" " 'long in May, they tole me." "Oh, Pap!" ejaculated Judith, stand ing breathless at his elbow. "Shet up, won't ye, Jude! I hollered ter yew ter git my clo'cs; Tm agoln' over ter Spedden's. Yo needn't wait, Tim," he added; "go 'long and settle er blzuess. I'll be thar In limcvter see it's on the squar." "Has Tim sold out?" Inquired Judith, returning with the desired arti cle.". "Yaas, d n 'im; an' d n all the ornary lot that gins In teraDutchman," answeni Miles, his great black eyes fol i:ZSZZ tretrCatlDB fiSUrC w,th SUl" len animosity. "O, I do wish Boone was homo again," sighed Judith, shivering with uewly-awakcned apprehensions. "I am so afraid or those dreadful Indians!" "Injuns!" scornfully ejaculated her father. "I do wonder If there be a drop of Boone blood In ycr. Just as if ycr brother wouldn't liefer fight Injuus nor eat his supper.. 'Tain't Injun3 .m afeerd ov." "What is it then, Pap? Is there anything else to be afraid of?" asked Judith, plainly divining by his manner that there was something he dreaded. "I'm afeared the cattlo hev gone ter a mighty poor market," returned Miles. "But I can't slan' here a-gabbin' when I've got bizucss with Sefior Shultz. I reckon it 'ill bo lato afore'l git home, an' yew'd best not set up." Judith watched her father ou t of sight as he had watched Tim, and something of the same gloom made her eyes at that moment singularly like his. "I wonder what it all means," she thought, "attd if Pap will sell the place because the neighbors are doing so. I'm sure I don't want it sold, and I do wish Mr. Shultz would not drive Pap Into it. Ho would not," she whispared to herself, "if he cared whether or not I am happy. But or course he cannot think about me. If I were not such a lonely, ignorant girl, with no mammy to love me, and nobody to teach me anything! If I what a little word to mean so much." Then with an effort to shake off Lcr despond ency, Judith repeated to herself that homely proverb, "If wishes were horses, beggars might ride," and hearing Katie's voice from the loft inquiring for her, hastily closed the door and as cended to her bed-room, but not to sleep. The wheezy old clock in the kitchen struck ten, eleven, twelve, and must I linvp bpen near unon tho strokn of cinn. ! A , when Judith, who was still absorbed in her reading, though her eyes ached In tho dim light of the tallow dip, became aware of a red glare upon the cloth- lined walls of her little chamber. Turn ing hastily to the window, she beheld away off to the north-east a broadsheet of flame spreading rapidly, and ever moro rapidly, over a large extent of le'el country. A moment's study of the landmarks showed her where the fire was raging. "The wheat-fields! the wheat-fields!" she cried In & low, moaning, terror stricken voice, a crushing dread forcing the cry from her heart. Could It be that her father had not X-OTtTITSD, OREGON, FRIDAY, t told her the truth about being wanted over at Speddens? Why had ho not returned ? The recollection of the many angry threats he had uttered occurred to ner now with fearful distinctness Uireals to shoot, to burn.' Familiar from childhood with stories of rudo and desperate acts, there was nothing improbable to her In the thought of such summary vengeance on a foe. But fear of the consequences was what ter rifled her the realization of tho punish ment that would be almost certain to follow on this insane course of her father's, If Indeed it were his act, and not an accident. She could not stay there and look at the fire. Whether an accident or the act of an Incendiary, something must be done, and that immediately. To re main, nufptlv IrmlHnf nn tnie t n lnuiAmn accessory. Leaving Katie sleeping soundly, sho hurriedly descended, snatched upacoveringforherhead, and closing the door behind her, took her saddle off its peg in the passage, aud running with it to the nearest horse sho could see, threw it upon his back, fast ening the girth with incredibto qulck U3ss. In another moment she was gal loping uot towards the fire sho knew her father would not be there, while all the vacqueros would but in the oppo site direction, to And him upon the road, or not finding him, to ride all the way to Spedden's. Nothing less than this would satisfy her In the faco of her horrible suspicion. If her father had not done it, to carry the intelligence to the owners; or if he had done it, to shelter him from injury. Ten minutes lift een minutes, she kept ner horse at a sharp gallop. At the end of that time she descried some ouo ad vancing from the opposite direction at an equal rate of speed, aud hoping It was really her father just coming home, slackened speed to speak to him. But a nearer view discovered to her, not Mr. Miles, but Mr. Shultz. "Miss Judith!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible! Weroyou coming for help? and is your father at the fire ?" "Yes, I was coming to letyou know," answered Judith, breathlessly. : "I Hid nappe to be mounted when I saw the fire; so fine was the night I could i not- sleep, ortl has been sent lhi men they will be along directly shall now see you safe home," uttered -Mr. hiiultz, rapidly. Judith turned her horse in silence, and the two rode briskly side by side without exchanging a dozen words in the fifteen minutes. Arrived at home, her cavalier did not pause to see her alight, but with a hasty good-night, kept on iu the direction of the fire. Exhausted with agitation and now more convinced than before that her fath erhad something to do with the disaster. ; Judith was glad to escape to the seclu- 9lon of Camber to gain time for re llection. A few moments later sho Heard him como In, closing the door softly as if fearing to waken her the act that might have seemed considerate at another time, only confirming her terror now. Brief and troubled was the slumber which visited the girl's pillow that night; and her father being early astir next morning, thero was no "beauty-sleep" to restore the faded roses of her checks. Tho man's restlessness would not permit him to eke out the evening's loss by the morning's indul gence; the demon that possessed him was an enemy to repose. Judith went about her duties without attempting to appear cheerful. Sho had arrived at that point in endurance where its virtue ceases. Tale, feveish, feeling sick in botly and brain, she had no heart for pleasant dissembling. Miles gave his daughter a furtively observing glance, which told him that this Judith was not the Judith of the evening before, shrinking and obedient, seldom golug beyond a childish pout in her resistance to authority. Tho demon that possessed him urged him to dis cover tho" reason of tho change; urged hlni every moment that he was gorging himself with his breakfast, swallowed without thought of mastication or rel ish. At last it burst its bonds in the In quiry: "D'ye see the firelast night, Jude?" "Yes," without lifting her eyes from her plate. "I'll Mow you was up purty late ?" "I was." "Yer mighty short with ycr au'seri," retorted Miles augrily. "Ye mout a heerd me come in ?" "Yes, I heard you, Pap," returned Ju dith, raisiug her eyes, aud facing him ! wltl a steady gaze, that caused his eye to maze defiance. "Mebbe yo war a-spylu' on yer Pap," he remarked. "A rmrtv cal ve nr ain't ye? I'll Mow yer thinkin' i" burnt them wheat fields." "Didn't you do It, Pap ? Oh, tell me that you didn't do it!" cried Judith, ea gerly, almost hoping from his scornful tone that ho was innocent. "I'll never tell nothiu' ter such a dar ter! Au', mind ye, keep a closo mouth. I don't recken ye'd best blab, Jude. 'Taint a gal's place ter blab. Yew hold j ycr tonguo 'beout me." There was admission of the crime and defiauco of the consequences, mingled with a threat to her, should sho provo indiscreet, iu Miles' answer; but Judith was too desperate for fear. "Suppose," he replied, "you should Fp.ke SPKmt, Fkee Press, Free People, n " ' I be suspected? You have said ireat many things to make you susjiectetl and suppose you should be arrested If I am called for a witness" "Yew Jest swar It right straight thru lew say't I come hum 'beout Mevcn o'clock an' laid down. I got up 'beout tu hours arterwards an' went eout ter see tho lire. Mind yew say that, furl seen bhultz 'beout that time." "You meau I shall swear falsely ?' asked Judith, her black, blazing eyes making her pale face look marble white. "Who tole ye It was falso ?" returned Miles, enraged. "D'ye Mow I'm a-ly ln' ? I novcr lammed ye 'null' afore ye was growed to Jam ye manners." Tho loud tones of her father's voice awakened Katie, who now called out from the head of the stair, "You Pap you quit a-sassin' Jude;" tho interven tiou provingmost timely, forMiles seized his hat and strode out of the house just In time not to witness a burst of pas sionate weeping. s Miles did uot return until evening, Judith had the whole long summer day iu hituuku tier tuouguis in. sue cer taiuly expected that her father's trullt would be found out, and her mind was busy estlmatiug the consequences, and planning her courso or action. Without Booue to counsel with; without any help In earth or heaven (for Judith was untaught in religion), she was forced to meet her trouble alone. Having fairly undertaken to grapple with her subject, the conclusion she camo to was to nhield her father. Not because sho did not comprehend his guilt in the eyes of the law; uot because she excused him on accouut of the provocations ho believed he had received; not out of tear of her own share in tho consequences, nor out of pride; but because he was her father her mother's hu.ibaud Kutio's and Bbono's father. Having settled this with herself, she began to take an interest in his defence, and to consider how she could prevari cate most aud lie least; not but thatshe fully Intended to lie, if falsehood should prove necessary to establishing her fath er's Innocence. By the time her father had returned in the evening, the fact of his guilt had become less repulsive to her, through having admitted the ne cessity of adopting his cause; and so she told him, by well-contrived allusions to tho subject, which neither would again openly discuss. But Miles was satisfied he need no longer dread an enemy In his own household; In consideration of which compliance he used a little more amiable manners than had for some timo distinguished him. Judith was right In supposing'there would be nn Inquiry instituted Into the origin of the fire; nor was she surprised when that inquiry resulted In her fath er's arrest. But, though she had ex pected it, and fortified herself to meet It, the preliminary examination was a greater ordeal than she had pictured to herself. To sit there and hear this man and that man repeat under oath the va rious coarso and desperate sayings and violent threats of her father, was hu miliating, if It had not been anything more. And to be the only woman among tho crowd of curious, leering, evil-testifying men, seemed intolerable. Even Tim Parker testifyed against her rather Tim, who was such a poor idiot, and so drunken ho seldom know the right of anything! But Tim knew nothing which could really implicate Miles nothing but threats. It was Mr. Shultz whose evidence proved most conclusive. He had met Miles coming from tho direction of the fire not long after It broke out, dressed Just as he had seen him when Miles had been at his office several hours before. Apparently he had not becn-at home In bed. There had not been tlmo when he met the accused for him to have visited tho flro with tho Intention of assisting In Its extinguishment. "No more I wouldn't," clipped In Miles, sullenly. This admission, however, by Its very frankness, was not considered damag ing. Miles had a right to withhold his aid If hechoie. It might be unnetgh borly, but It was not a punishable of fense. The most Important wIIiipkj re maining was Judith. When this last witness came forward to take the oath, her face hidden bo neath tho over-shadowing sun-bunuet, there was first a buzz, then a silence more embarrassing than the whigper lug. Mr. Shultz cleared the way for her, and remained standing near whilo she made her declafution In a voice slightly tremulous, but loud enough to be heard by all, to the cflcct that her Pap was greatly annoyed by the belief that the agent of the Spedden estate was endeavoring to get his land at less than Its value; that ho had put Iu wheat, her Pap thought, to keep him away from the river; that It was true he (Miles) had laid many violent things, but that was his way when he was angry; that on tho night in question ho had gone out to Speddeu'a with Tim Parker, re turning about olevcn o'clock; that when the fire broko out he had gouo Cut to IookwhereItwas,audputon the clothes ho had been wearing, others not being at hand. Of this she was certain, uot having slept well that night, on ac count of being alono in the house until late hour. Her statement made, Judith turned to regain a seat, aud meeting Mr. Bhultz'a lO, 1874. condemning eyes, blushed painfully, j fenced and deronded by instinct.to extend then becoming dizzy, stumbled and : his researches beyond his own Imme would have fallen, had not his out-idiate wants and concerns, and ainimj. stretched arm prevented. "You are faint," he said, "let me take you into the open air." And Judith, glad to escape, assented. "What can I do for you ?" he asked, when ho had brought a chair and placed her In it. "Allow me to remove your bonnet." "No, no!" objected Judith, pulling hor hands to her face. Sho could not look at him after what she bad seen In his eyes. "Is it so hard then to tell alio. Miss Judith?" asked her companion gravely, after a painful silence. "Who knows I have lied ?" returned Judith, passionately. "Did yon see who fired tho wheat ?" "I did not see, yet I am convinced," said Mr. Shultz, calmly. "But your evidence hassaved your father. The case will be dismissed." She looked up at him now, her whole soul, and all the passionate trouble of it, In her eyes and iu her tremulous voice. ".My father U saved, but my friend is lost." The people beginning to crowd out, it was too late to reply. Miles came and spoke to Judith and they went away to gether, sho never turning her head. "By Hcaveu!" muttered Shultz to himself, "it was bravely done. But what a sacrifice!" And yet women with educated sensi bilities constantly make tho sacrifice of this integrity, In one way or another. for tho sake of fathers, husbands or brothers, and think it a virtue. Why not poor, Ignorant Judith ? ITo be continued. THE ATTEIBJJTES OP MAX. 11Y WJILL-ICE R. STECBLK. Man is perhaps the most singularcon- stltuted being in the high scaleorileav en's mysterious workmanship. Aud, ir we except the Heavenly intellijrences. he stands pre-eminent among all the works or God. Uniting In himseir a thousand modifi cations or matter and the endless varie ties of mind by his spiritual part con nected with thinirs tcrrestrinl: hv W mmateriality claiming alliance with a ' higher and nobler work, above mortal ity; in his complex nature tending to tho tomb, and yet rising superior to its ravages; ever converging to corruption and the darkness or the grave, and yet cosnelousof undying energ'es within, lie presents us with a problem in the sei- once of beings the solution of which can only be realized by a direct enmmuiii cation from the Creator to the creature, or whoiie mysterious formation and at tributes ire are now representatives. Mau seems to unite in himself the di- ersities of created nature, and stands forth not unaptly for the contemplation of intelligence as an epitome of beings an abridgement of the universe. Upon the primitive condition aud ultimate destination of man it cannot bo neccsray for us to dwell here. Na ture, ambition and inspiration unite in their testimony that he left the hands of the Creator combining In himself the elements of an existenco superlative In its character and bound less in its prospects. Endowed with the high and eminent attributes intelli gence, volition and emotion man is distinguished as occupying the summit of creation's visible pyramid, and pre pared to move forward forever with firm aud unfettered tread in the paths of irtue, science, and moral Illumination. The phenomena attendant upon the original formation or nian stamped upon him the signature of his value, and IntN mated In no obscure way the part he was to act in the great drama of exist ence. Tho mauifestations or nature, his own consciousness, aud the affirmation of tho being who made him, all gave notice that he was destined to run a high career 'mid the eventful and un known fortunes of creation. There is a beautifiil passage in Ovid, although well known, I shall Insert it here. After speaking or the creation or all the irra tional animals, he proceeds thus: .V creature of more exalted kind Wus wanting yet, and then was man designed, Conscious of thought, of more capacious brcai, For empire formed and fll to rule the rest." "Tims, while the mute creation downwanl bend Their course, and to their earthly mother lend, Man look aloft and with erected eyes Ileholda his own hereditary skies." Man's intellectual dominion is almoit without limit. His knowledge or the present compared with the. past and reaching forward to the future enables him to arrange and classify Important and kiudred facts upon tho grand prin ciples of Induction, and hand them down to future generations as the well attested record of experience. New and more ample fields of discovery constantly open before him, and ho only" ceases to learn with the termination of his earthly existence. Aud It Is not all improbable that the virtuous aud good beyond the tomb will continue to Increase the sun of knowledge by observation, instruc tion aud Intercourse, till universal na ture shall be spread out before the eyes of tho heavenly iuhabltauts as. a bound less exhibition of tho infinite God. It 13 the distinguished prerogative of man, while all the lowercreaturcs with which he finds himself surrouuded are necessa rily confined within the narrow limits j and delight himself In the contempla tion or tno universe. Tho wide and im pressive prospects of this fair creation are all before him. The glory of the heavens, the beauty of the earth, the grandeur of the ocean, the hill, the dale, the mine, the quarry, afford an inten sity of delight, a force of appeal calcu lated to Improve and mend the heart. They all hold one common language and this language is directed to man the only terrestrial being who Is capable of Intelligent admonition. The Towers of Silence. On tho northeast crest of Malabar Hill, in the Presidency of Madras, are situated the famous Towers of Silence There are two approaches to the exten sive tract ol ground on which thev are built. 1 rom the Gowalia'Tank road towaru me norm a wim nc .tvetitm r.r recoui. construction ieaas to the gate way at the top, on which is au inscrip tion that none but Parsces may enter there. This prohibition was rendered necessary, it is said, by the unseemly and Inconsiderate conductor thoo who used- formerly to be admilfml inclosure. The gateway is also reached uy u aurt, ui giuui stair-case, Hair a mile long, wnicn, starting from the uuuutuavi roau cioso to Back Bay comes almost straight up the hiil. ' auu visum, wuu tias outaiued per mission to disregard the notice at the entrance, win unuou passing the iortai that ho is iu a kind of small court-yard from which he can only advance by mounting some half-dozen iep. On the right is tho Suggree, a low stone building, open on all sides, in which prayers are offered for the dead. The chief object of having the court-yard lower than the level on which the Sug gree is built is to prevent thn n.nm. uies from being profaned by the gaze of unueiievmg eyes, wncn the mourners are numerous thev irroun thou...... around the building, aud, from its being open, uiey can, ot course, see all that goes on witiiiu, and take part in the prayers. ine dead, it should lie men tioned, are never taken within the Sug gree. Be: ween the Suggree and the garden is a . r?0 and handsome build ing, with lirciiitl roof, designed tn Riinir- cede the present Suggree, which is found to oo inconveniently small. Passing mis new erection, we enter a beautiful garden, ablaze with flowers, among which roses are conspicuous. Along the walks are iron garden-seats of clejrant structure and European make. Here the relatives of the dead rest after the toilsome ascent of the basalt stair-case, and on subsequent occasions come to pray. Beyond the garden, on tho un dulatlnjr summit of the filll looking to. ward Malabar Point, is the park-like piwuvcrcu tract in wuicu, al irregu lar Intervals, arc the Towers of SUenw. where the dead are laid, The towers, of ,' which there are six, are round, and on 1 average irom iiitrty to forty feet j high, and about as much iu diameter; I one or two are jiorhaps higher. They are solidly'built of stone, the wails be ing some three feet thick, and they are all colored white. There is no window, land only one door, coveriug a small aperture about a third of the way up. iw mis .ienuic iiti.-c'sa is uuiaiueu oy a narrow stone causeway, tip which the ueau ami tue oier-iiearers alone niay venture. So sacred arc the towers that no one except the bearers, who are set apart for the purpose, may npproaeh within thirty paces of them. Inside on the rock pavement spaces are marked out, on which the dead are placed to await the vultures, and pathways are marked out for the bearers to walk upon without defiling the place where their unconscious burdens are to rest. When a I'arsce dies his soul goes to heaven, but his body must not be tainted by corruption. Therefore it is at once washed and purified, and if there be yet time it is at once carried to the towers before sundown. If death takes place, however, after, say, three o'clock, when there would uot be time to gain the towecs and pray becomingly before dark, the body is kept till tiio early moriiiii'r. Having been rendered unde- liled, it is clothe 1 in white, and prayers are offered at the house by the family and friends. None may hcuccrorth touch it; It is pure, and must so remain. The women or the family take a last look, and the light bier, on which it has been placed beiug covered with a white shroud, it is carried by the bearers to the hill. No vehicle can ou any accouut housed; uo one must even follow in a vehicle; the whole journey, no matter what the distance, must 'lie made on foot. AH who form part of the cortege must- have been washed and purified and clothed in white, and to touch any one would be to become defiled. The women in some cases wear mourning black but the men never. No woman attends a funeral; the female relatives of the dead always remain at home on that day, but they may go afterward to the garden near the towers to pray. Carrying tho body and following it in procession, holding scarfs passed from one side to the other, thoso forming tho cortege wend their way slowly to the foot of tho steps leading to the top of the Malabar Hill. Laboriously ascend ing these, they reach the crest In a quarter or an hour, aud the priests go tlirouch the Sacred ceremonins In thn Suggree. Some Parsces consider that tho prayers thus rendered have the er-1 feet of averting all decomposition or i ottier lielilcmcnt. when tho prayers are over, and those who have como the loug and weary journey are somewhat rested, the body is borne to tho foot of the causeway leading to the door of one of the towers. Hero tho face Is uncov? ereil, so that all may take a last linger- ing look; it is covered again, and the form disappears into the tower. Were there not serious mtsconcep- i Hons to be removed, we would not seek urincr to penetrate tuese mysteries; uut as stories in which there Is more of hor ror than of fact are rife amoug those who know absolutely nothing or what really takes place, it is better that the truth should L . fully told. The towers are scattered over a large and parkdlke Inclosure, secluded by Its elevation from every eye. Outside tho lofty wall which encircles the whole siiaco there are hundreds of acres of laud, partially cultivated, which theParseesclaim.and which while In their possession they havo carefully kept as a sort of neutral territory betweeu the domain orjiutsld ers bungalows and that or tho towers. A Journal for the People. . , Iievoteil trftht'interesfsornnmanlty: J Indepondenr In Politics und ReHglon. -,t Alive to nil Live Isjnes, and Thoroughly nadftdl In OppHln? and Exposing th 9 Wrong ol the Maaaes. Correspondents writlns over assumed signa tures mu-t mal:e known their names, to tho EdIIor.nr nn attention will be given to Illelr communication. What gees on inside, therefore, no ono can see, and of course no one need be of fended at It. Itis the Imagination alono that IS shocked, and it is thn mnro onollv shocked from beiug quite uniformed ot" nai, reauy nappeus. uat nappens is tins: Some fiftv vultures mml thnlr abodo in the lofty palms within tho In closure, and when the dead is deposited in the towers they swoop down, and do nut uso again tut an tne nesu has dis appeared. In a few hours nono" of tho body remains except tho bones. Those who retail Htorles about fragments of human bodies beiug taken up by tho vultures and carried outside the park and the surrounding neutral belt, and then bving dropped on the roads, are Ig norant of the habits of these jackals of the air. On the American pampas, when they alight upon their quarry they are so loath to quit the spot that they are eventually unable to fly from It on tho approach of horsemen, who find no 'difficulty In knocking them over with- their whips. Within the towers they are secluded from all disturbance, aud those who have wninltm! fnr lUu. purpose havo never seeu them come to the lop witii any substance whatever. It is only when all Is over that they come to the summit or the towers, where they remain for hours without -moving. Then they fake their heavy flight to the palms around; seldom, In deed, do they go beyond tho trees In tho rough grouihi outsido the vast com pound. There is nothi nrr nf n. Rnprml character ascribed to these useful but obscene birds. They are regarded simply as a means of preventing de composition, and id accomplishing that task they perfectly succeed. The conse quence is that the grounds about the Towers of Silence have nothing of the hideous taint of tho charnel-house. These in not the faintest odor of death to mingle, with the perfumes of the roses blooming around. The Appeal of the Laborers. Work! work! work! That is the cry at present. From all the great centers of tlicUnion it wells and surges through the land. Bands of stalwart mechanics throng the halls of our city legislatures, and the burden of their cry is Work! There they stand willing and able to do good service, their tools idle in their hands repeating over and over thfir simple demand for work. They want to create wealth for the nation, and can not g t the chance to do it. Why ? Becau-a few idlers and non-producers in Wall street have decreed otherwise. Tliegrc it Labor Locomotive is brought to a stand-still, because a number of money-i-'.iiik financiers lie sprawling on its tro k. For one-- tito workers are entirely right in :!ieir demand. They have a rjght to o' ain work peaceably If they can, fore ly ir they must. But the British chf ity-mongers among us are on the alt t. They say: "Establish soup-house! ; when the workers get hun gry enough liey will be willing to be pau perized after the English fashion." But the toilers do uot ask for soup; they de mand work. Gentlemen Legislators, Mayors, Aldermen, etc., etc., what will you do with that elephant? Will you tell the millions that they have no right to toll; that it is their boundeu duty to remain idle, and die of starvation? You cannot, j-ou dare not! It Is true there are some factories run ning on half or threo-quarter time, aud some holding on at reduced wacres. These are held up as models: It would bo difficult to tell why. But such, vou win say, nas latieny got. to ne tue case every winter. In that desolate period of the year, when human beings need double sustenance and double clothing, then man rises to pray upon his fellow man, and the little that the worker re- ccivps in return fnr Ms fnll to noimll.. j diminished. Man is the same avari cious man lit the country that ho is in the city; If you waut to get your-wood cut cheaply, have It done in the winter. But, gentlemcn-polltlcal-economlsts, is the present prostration of labor tho present idleness of the toiler sound doctrine?, Tho worker knows that, in his individual case, it does not answer for him to waste time. Is it correct,, nationally? First, run in debt, then, in order to pay oft the same, to cease the creation of wealth. Verily, there is a screw loose somewhere a hole In the mournful ballad of jhe British Labor System which has boon sung so long, aud which Is so doleful and melancholy that It may be termed "tho dirge of the laborer." Alas! for us, that the mil lions iu our broad laud should have to take up the refrain, aud every weary winter the wretched, alms-giving, pau perizing system or tho old country, make greater and greater Inroads among the workers in our most populous man ufaettiring and commercial centers. But our Intent in this article is to lu- 3ulre, rather than to instruct. It Is to emand from our railroad, State and city authorities, an answer to tho ap peal of tho laborers. He has appeared before them, and he demands work. As Mr. Tweed, lately their leader, said: "What do you mean to do about It?" It i3 a modest request, although it may be earnestly pressed. Do you mean to deny tho wgalth producer, while you are cosily consuming tho products of his past labors? That would not be quite correct. If you answer him that there is no money to be got, ho will tell you to make some; there is plenty of blank paper In the country, and that Is the material out of which the present circulating medium is manufactured. Do anything but oue when ho asks for bread do not give mm a stone; wncn he demands work, do not, In reply, offer him soap! Verily, this labor question, which has been so many years inagitati6n, is com ing to tho front with power. It is in deed "Reformation or Revolution, Which?" At present the demand is for work. There is only ono word which, under tho present circumstances 'of the country, is moro terrible. It Is the cry for bread! Whenever the pop- uiji iiiuiiuLi is uearu in jiurope, wise statesmen make ready for its consequent (which is) Revolution Woodhull & Clajlin'a Weekly. "Why do they call the people that live iu some of the South Sea Islauds cannibals?" asked an old man of a sailor. "Because they live on other people." answered the sailor. "Then," said the old man pensively, "my sons-in-law must be cannibals, for they live on me." An old 7dyis inclined to tMnk that., a compass would be tho best se wing- . . machine, b -attsesho heard that H had a . neeillewith thirty-two points,