Oregon City enterprise., April 19, 1877, Image 1

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DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. .
VOL. 11. OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 1877. NO. 26.
I i
r
THE ENTERPRISE.
A LOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOR THE
Farmer, Business Man, and Family Circle.
ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY.
It A. ' IC fH . 1 IZ 1 J3NT,
FKOPK1ETOK AND I'L'BLISUKK.
OFFICIAL PAPER FOft CLACKAMAS COUHTY.
OFFICE In Entekpuisk Building, one
d or south of Masonic Bulldiup, Main street.
Terms of Mubucrlptlou:
Single copy, one year, in advance $2 50
Single copy, six months, iu advance.... 1 50
Terms of Advertising;:
Transient advertisements, iceluding
all legal notices, per square of twelve
Hue, oue week $ 2 50
For each subsequent insertion 1 00
One column, one year 120 00
Half " " GO 00
Quarter tt 44 40 00
Business Card, one square, one year.. . 12 00
SOCIETY NOTICES.
O KEG ON LODGE, Xo. tf, I.
I.
O. F.. meets every Thursday even-
ins, at o'clock. In the Odd Fcl-s
lows' Hall, Main street. Members ;fij
of the Order arc invited to attend.
By order of N. G
It B I IE CCA
DEGREE LODGE,
No. 2, I. O. O.
F., meets on the ,,
Second and Fourth Tuesday AizJ,!4
evenings of each month, at 1ri ir
o'clock, in the Odd Fellows' Hull."',H,''ay
Members of the Degree are invited to attend
MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1,
A. F. & A. M., holds its reirular coin
, ,..,!....: 4 1... V.-mt ....A Tl.-...,l
fj.iturdays in each month, at 7 o'clock V
Iruin the JOtn ol September to the
20th of March: and 14 o'clock from
the 20th of March to the 20th of September.
Brethren in good standing are invited to at
tend. . By order of W. M
FALLS U N CAM 131 E N T. No. 4
I. O. O. F., meets at Odd Fellows' Hall
on the First and Third Tuesday of
each month. Patriarchs in "rood stand
ing are invited to attend.
BUSINESS CARDS.
J. W. NORRIS,
.Physician and Surgeon
OFFICE AND KESIDENOK :
On Fourth Street, at foot of Cliff Stairway
tf
CHAS. KNIGHT,
CAMIY, ... OUKUOX,
cPhysician and Druggist.
IfFrescriptions carefully filled at short
notice. ja7-tf
PAUL BOYCE, M. D.,
1'JiyMician and Surgeon,
Oregon Citt, Okeqox. .
Chronic Diseases and Diseases of Women
and Children a specialty.
Office hours day and night; always ready
when duty calls. Aug. 25, '70-tf
DR. JOHN WELCH,
DENTIST
OFFICE IX
ORKUOX CITY, OKEdiOX.
Highest cash price paid for County orders.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
Attorneys aiil Counselors at Law,
OBKUOX CITV, OKEUOX.
Willpractice in all the Courts of the State,
Special attention given to cases in the U. S
Land Office at Oregon City. 5aprlS72-tf
L. T. BARIN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CFlCKtiOX CITY
Will practice in all
State.
the Courts of the
Nov. 1, 1875-tf
W. H. HIGHFIELD,
XZsta.lollsl3.ec3. since
One door North of Tope's Hall,
MAI NT., OHKUOX, CITV OKKGO'.
An assortment of watches. Jewelry,
, and Seth Thomas' Weight Clocks, all
of which are warranted to bo as repre
sented. tWyltepalring done on short notice;
and thankful for past patronage.
i iti itl for County Ordfn.
JOHN M. BACON ,
DEALER IX JSffL
Books, Stationery, sSfir
PICTURE FRAMES, M0ULDI.V03
AND MISCELLANEOUS GOODS.
CKEGOX ClTV, OKtGOX.
At the Tost Office, Main Street, west
L novl-'75-tf
IMPERIAL MILLS.
La Rot que, Savier & Co.,
OREGON CITY.
Keep constantly on hand for sale Flour
Middliugs, Bran and Chicken Feed. Parties
purchasing feed must furnish the sack
J. H. SHEPARD,
Boot and Shoe Store
one door north of Ackerman Bros.
t-tfBoots and Shoes made and repaired as
cheap as the cheapest.
Nov. 1, l!S75-tf
MILLER, CHURCH & CO.
AY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR
At all times, at the
OREGOX CITY MILLS,
And have on hand
sell, at market rates,
must furnish sacks.
FEED and FLOUR to
Parties desiring Feed
novli-tf
A. G. WALLING'S
Pioneer Book Bindery,
PittocVs Building, cor. of Stark and Front sta.,
POHTLAID, OKKUOI.
BLANK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND
to any desired pattern. Music books,
Magazines, Newspapers, etc., bound in every
variety of style known to the trade. Orders
from the country promptly attended to.
novl-75-tf
OREGON CITY BREWERY.
HENRY HUMBEL,
T-T-LNO purchased the above
tr3,,r,!Wery. wishes to inform the
Huoiic mat he jg now preparei to manufac
lur No x quality of v v
8t!00A V can b obtained anywhere in the
l- UrUr solicited and promptly filled.
y
Time Enough.
Two little squirrels, out in the sun,
One gathered nuts, the other had none;
"Time enough yet," his constant refrain,
"Summer is still only just on the wane.'?
Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate; '
He roused him at last but he roused him too
late;
Down fell the suow from a pitiless cloud,
And gave little squirrel a spotless white
shroud.
Two little boys in a school-room were placed;
One always perfect, the other disgraced;
"Time enough yet Tor my learning," he said,
"I will climb, by and by, from the foot to the
head."
Listen, my darling; their locks have turned
gray;
One as a governor sitting to-day;
The other, a pauper, looks out at the door
Of the alms-house, and idles his days as of
yore.
Two kinds of people we meet every day
One is at work, the other at play.
Living uncared for, dying unknown
The business hive hath ever a drone.
Tell rac, my child,if the squirrels have taught
The lesson I longed to impart in your thought;
Answer me this and my story is done.
Which of the two would you be, little one ?
Stephen Girard.
Nearly every person who went to the
Centennial talks about Stephen Girard
They knew somewhat of him before, but
because they only read of him they did
not feel much interest. He was a French
man, and was bora in the year 1730, in
Bordeaux. His parents were very no
atid not able to send him to school much,
and his educatiou was very limited. He
could only read and write. lie never ac
quired the English language readily, al
ways blundered in las commonest speech,
and if he became excited he resorted to
his mother tongue entirely.
When he was ten years old he shipped
as a cabin boy on a vessel bound to the
Ea9t Indies. Afterwards he sailed from
New York in the same humble capacity.
He was a trusty lad, and so faithful to
the interests of his employer that a few
years later the master of the vessel gave
Lira the command of a small craft, and
the young man Stephen made several
trips to New Orleans and other ports.
He was so successful in all his under
takings and so frugal with liis earnings,
that in a little time he was enabled to
become one of the owners of the vessel
that had been entrusted to his manage
ment. When he was nineteen years of age he
settled in Philadelphia, and before he was
twenty he married a servant girl, who was
as pretty as a doll. Her name was Polly
Lum, only seventeen years old, the
daughter of a poor man who repaired
vessels, a caulker by trade. "We feuppose
Stephen, while waiting to have his craft
tinkered up, cast his eyes upon the pretty
girl the tinker's daughter lost bis lieart,
and married her.
But pretty Polly bad better have gone
on cooking dinners, tending babies, doing
chamber work, etc., for the marriage
proved a very unhappy one. The young
husband's temper was unmanageable he
was hard and stern and cold, and exas
perating, iu his broken French-and-En-glish,
and the final result was a divorce
from his wife, who afterwards became
insane, and for the last tweuty-tive years
of her life was an inmate of a lunatic asy
lum. She died in 1815.
They had no children except one, and
that died in early infancy.
Girard had not long entered the West
India trade until he was recognized as a
rich man.
People who have seen him, concur in
the statement that he was the homeliest
man they ever looked upon. lie was
short and thick, and as unshapely as a
butter tub. The swaying, swinging gait
of the old-time sailor was his as long as
he lived. He had one wall-eye, which in
itself was enough to spoil a handsome
face; was deaf in one er, always dressed
very mean and shabby wa3 cold and
stern and vulgar, and his whole exterior,
coupled, with his miserable broken lan
guage, rendered the man a forbidding
object. There was nothing favorable in
his appearance whatever. He talked but
little; he did not like t talk on any sub
ject but business, and then as little as
possible.
His habits were precise, and regular .as
clock woik. Aside from the business of
money getting1 he cared for nothing but
his fig trees and shrubbery and grape
vines, lie was a cat none in n;s religious
belief.
At the time of his death, in 1831, his
est:te was valued at t-velve millions ot
dollar?, and by his will was all to be de
voted to educating destitute children, and
to the relief of the poor and distressed.
As is too often the case in important
matters of this kind, prolonged litigation
was one of the deplorable result.
In his will, Mr. Girard gave directions
for constructing Girard College; the size,
form, and the kind of materials to be
used. The building was commenced in
the summer of 1833, but not opened un
til
ions.
The form is that of a Corinthian tem
ple, surrounded by a portico having
thirty-four columns, eacli six feet in di
ameter, and fifty-five feet high, resting
oq a basis of eleven white marble steps.
The building is ninety -seven fett high,
one hundred and eleven fWt .,lo nrl
one hundred and sixty-nine feet lon. The
stairways and roof are all of
wime maroie. The entrances nro en hJ
north and south frouts-ear.h hai-in.,lAr.
ways thirty-two feet high, and sixteen
feet wide On each of the east and west
sides are thirty-four windows
Visitors at the Exposition 'were shown
the place where rest the remains of
the founder of this college. Thev are
buried beneath the center of the "lower
vestibule, and are covered by a marble
statue of Girard himself. The cost of
erecting the building was not less than
two millions of dollars.
Provision was made in the will for sun-
porting as many orphans as could be ac-
commodated ; first, the orphans of the city
of Philadelphia; secondly, those of Penn
sylvania; thirdly, of New York, and
fourthly, of New Orleans. Generous pro
vision was made for these poor children
between the ages of six aud ten years.
and when between fourteen and eighteen
years of age, they are to be bouad out to
learn trades or follow useful occupations.
The eccentricity of the man's character
is shown in his will, where he says, '"No
ecclesiastic missionary or minister of any
sect whatever shall ever exercise or hold
any station or duty whatever in said col
lege, nor shall any such person evr be
admitted within the premises appropri
ated to the purposes of said college."
Ihe trustees are very watchful lest the
will be violated or broken, though years
ago they decided to introduce the Bible
for the use of the pupils, not deeming
such a step at variance with the will of
the founder.
We write this crude biographical sketch
at the suggestion of a little lady at our
elbow, who very recently has become in
terested in all that relates to this singular
man. We ask her if the marble statue of
Girard was tine looking. "Not by any
means," the replies with a shudder. "His
head was flat where veneration should
have been, and his countenance was not
at all prepossessing. He was life size,and
I didn't see his white wall-eye, because
the snowy marble favored the poor old
man."
"Don't forget," she add:, "that his lat
ter generosity covered a multitude of sins,
and that his wealth was what brought him
up before a carping, critical, scrutiniz
ing public, always ready to detect flaws."
It is gratifying to know that the pres
ent President of that noble and humane
institution is the President of the Ameri
can Bible Society, a LL. D., aud a man of
unblemished Christian character.
A very homely man once stepped up to
Girard and handed him a huge old . jack
knife, saying, "That knife wasgi'n tome,
stranger, fur bein' the humliest man 'at
anybody ever seed, but gor a mity ! take
it! an' may peace go with ye!"
The donor was glad to get away with
out any broken bones. Girard swore and
sputtered in villainous Eoglish the wrath
that boiled over indignantly. ,
Ministers of the gospel are not even al
lowed to visit this institution to step
their unhallowed feet over the princely
sills of polished marble, and for this rea
son the utmost watchfulness is preserved.
One time a party of students visited
the college, and one of them, a jolly, fun
loving fellow, wore a snow-white cravat,
aud put on the very demurest of clerical
faces. At the door the warden politely
bowed, and looking keenly at the white
cravat, said, "I am sorry, sir, but indeed
you cannot be permitted to enter."
"What the devil is the reason I can't sro
in?" said the student, with a great show
of mingled indignation and surprise.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; ! was mis
taken," said the suave warden, with a
wave of the haud that signified an abun
dant welcome. Ohio Farmer.
What He Found.
BY KAY.
Yes, Rene, I will trust to your silence,
and tell you the history of my life, from
the time I left lale with you up to the
present time.
".When 1 came home, I found my
sister Alice very ill. v ith her was
lady friend whom she had known at
school. Cora Thornly was a sweet, pret
ty girl of about seventeen years of age,
at least nve years the junior of Alice
Although she was so much younger,
Alice had loved tier as sue nau never
loved any one else but myself, and
think you well know what devotion ex
isted between my twin f-ister and mvself;
one thing, I suppose, that made the love
jrreater, was the fact that we were or
phans. .
"The day preceding her death,
sent for me to come to her room,
the bed, kneeling, was Cora Thornly
she
By
" 'Harry,' said my sister, 'it has been
my wish for the last five years that when
you knew C ra you would love her, and
wish to make her your wife. It is true
yon have known her only live weeks, yet
in that time you have seen how go
and lovable she is. I have cherished the
thought of seeing you married until it
has become a part of my being. Cora
is, like yourself, an orphan, and she loves
you. Will you not be married to-day?
I fear I have only a few hours to remain
with you.'
"lieue, what could 1 say? mere was
my frister, dying1. On the other side of
the couch vas C ra. I had never felt
anything like love for her; I liked her as
my sister's friend, and that was all
had seen the blood rush to her faco when
my sister was speaking; it had not left
it yet. I pitied the poor girl, vet her
face told me nothing.
" 'Harry, what will be your answer?'
came faintly from my sister.
"I beut oVer and whispered,
"'As you wish, my darling; yes, if it
will make you happy.'
"A bright, holy look sprang into her
eyes, aud putting Cora's hand in mine
she said,
" 'God bless you both I You have made
me very happy. I can now die content.
"That afternoon I, Harry Ciifton,
stood by my sister's bedside a married
mnn, bound to a woman for whom 1 hat
not a spark of love, and for whom 1
cou!d only feel pity.
"The next day my sister died. I wil
not dwell on the sad, sad days that fol
lowed. Cora soon saw that I did not
love her. I was truly sorry, for the poor
child loved me, and for that reason I in-
tended to make her happy, it possible
.c" A-a alio vnn to me.
" 'Ilarrv ' she said. '1 know that you
do not love me, and it was only that jour
sister might die happy that you married
m T know vou would love me if you
could. I have seen the struggle, and
honor you for it; but I will not trouble
you long.'
"I could not understand "her. I did
nof irnnw thnt child - ns she was, her
heart was breaking with her love for me
T did nnt know until the next morning
n.hnt- cha mean t- then T found a note on
mv dressing table; it ran thus:
I howl love you" I cannot slay wTth you day
after day and know that I am only a care to
ou. l go only that you may be uappy. 1
am but a child; you will soon forget rue, aud
think of me as dead."' But you will nevar
know how dearly you were loved by
. " 'UOKA.'
"That was all. For the last ten years
have looked everywhere for my child
wife, and have not found her. Durinjr
that time I have learned to love her. It
almost breaks my heart when I think
that she is lost to me, whether she is dead
or not. If I could but find her, and tell
her that the man she loved only too well
at last loves her! I would give my whole
life to see her happy. But I fear that it
can never be."
"Harry," said Rene, "I think you know,
without my saying it, that I feel for you
deeply, and will do anything that lies in
my power to assist you in your search.
By the way, I have a message to give
vou which my sister gave me when I
told her that you were in the city, and I
was going to call on you. She has a
end there who is a grand singer, and
she told me to be sure to ask you to hear
her. The girl is an orphan, and Laura
wants to iutroduce her to a few of her
friends."
"I know of nothing to prevent," said
Harry, "except my sadness. I fear you
will not find me a very cheerful addition.
Your promise of music wins me. Cora
was a sweet singer.
Evening came. Mrs. Grey's parlor
contained a few select friends, and among
them some old friends of Harry's, whom
he had not seen since his marriage, over
three years ago. In a short time Mrs.
Grey came to him and said,
"Come with m", Harry, and I will in
troduce you to Miss Hastings."
bhe led him to the end of the room.
to a beautiful, sad-laced lady, who
seemed strangely familiar to him. Har
ry thought he had never seen such a
beautiful wnnian in his life, but the sad
eyes told a tale of suffering.
Ihe introduction was over, and Harry
found himself alone with the lady.
"Miss Hastings," he said, "my. friend
Iiene tells me that you are an excellent
iger. May I have the pleasure of
.hearing you" And he led her to the
piano.
"Have you any choice?" she asked.
"None," he replied. "I shall be much
pleased with your selection."
She turned over the music and selected
a piece he had once heard Uora sing.
the strange lady saug so much like his
ost wife that he involuntarily put his
hand to his eyes, to hide the tell-tale
drops that glistened there.
"What is it, Mr. Clifton?" asked the
fair singer. "Does my song affect you?
If so, I will sing something else
"No, no!" said Harry. "You will
pardon me, Miss Hastings, for saying it,
but I wish you would never sing that
song for any one when I am by, for it
has sad memories connected with it
for me."
"I am sorry," she said. "I ought no
to have sung it, as it is connected with
one ot the s:uldest periods of my
own life."
They talked on for some time, Harry
soon finding out that his companion was
a woman of rare culture. Rising, he
said,
"I have passed a pleasant evening, and
hope soon to have the pleasure ot seeing
you again."
Time passed on. Harry wa3 deeply
in love with .Miss Hastings. Every time
he met her some new quality was de
veloped. He kuew that he was doing
wrong to allow this passion to grow on
him. At last he spoke to Rene about it.
"Well," said Rene, "I don't know as
my advice will be right; but it 1 were
you,
I would go
to Miss Hastings and
tell her my history,
that what she tells
right, or I am a
character."
I am almost certain
you- to do will be
bad iudge of her
That evening he called,
was in the parlor, and he
side her. They talked on
Miss Hastings
sat down ue
different sub-
jects; finally be said,
"Miss Hastings, I have long wondered
what your hrst name is. .Will you par
don my curiosity and tell me?"
"Jiy name, she said, "is a very com
mon one Cora. Have you ever known
any one by that name?" And she looked
in his face with a sad, sorrowful look
"Yes; I once had a very dear friend
by that name; in fact, she was more than
a friend she was my wife. I came here
to-night intending to tell you my his
tory."
"You need not," she interrupted softly
'T know it, and have known it for a long
time."
"You know it?" cried Harry. "There
are only three persons in the world who
know it Rene Woodward, mv wife ant
myself. Rene could never have told you
He had not been looking at her while
he spoke; she had risen and stood by his
side. Laying her hand on his arm, she
said,
"llarrv. do vou not-know mef 1 am
Cora Thornly."
His arms were around her the golden
head dropped on his breast. At this
moment the door opened, and Rone came
rushing in.
"Laura says oh. excuse me 1" And he
turned to go out.
"btay!7 cried Harry. "Wish me joy
R?ne. I have found Coia. my child
A Goon storv is told of a well-known
Broad street broker, r who on his way
home from the club the other evening.
managed to occupy considerable more
than two-thirds of the Madison avenue
sidewalk. In this predicament he was
met by two seedy individuals, who firs
relieved him of his watcb, and then
tumbled him over into the snow. As he
lav there shouting for help, two other in
dividuals came along. -and inquired
"What's the matter!" "Why." said the
broker, "here I've hie been robbed of
my hie watch." "Didn't they take
your money?" asked . the strangers
"Don't know," said the broker, feeling ia
his breast pocket for" bis wallet. "No
here 'tis bic money's all right." "Well
we'll take that, then," said the strangers,
as they seized the wallet and disappeared
around the first corner. Commercial Ad
vertiter.
1 COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY . I
Russia aud the Dardanelles.
Let us now consider the fearful pre
ponderance which Russia would gain by
the possession of these straits, including
t course that half of European 'lurkcy
bordering upon them. "We have seen
that the shores of the Black Sea furnish
every facility for the construction of a
navy or any required strengtn, ana its
waters afford ample space for its training.
With these approaches in her grasp, Rus
sia might in ten years construct and dis
cipline her fleet there, perfectly safe from
molestation by the navies of Europe.
Fleets built and equipped at Sebastopol,
Kherson, and Nicolaief, could sweep
through the Dardanelles, closed to all ex
cept themselves, enter the Archipelago
and the Mediterranean, and dominate
over their shores and over the commerce
of every nation which has to use these
waters as a highway. In case of it hap
pening at aoy time to find itself over
matched, the Russian fleet could repass
the gates of the Dardanelles, and be as
safe from pursuit as an army would be
if sheltered behind the rocks of Gibraltar.
Great Britain would be first and most
immediately menaced ; by this for a
6trong military and naval power estab-
ished on the Bosphorous would hold in
command the shortest way of communi
cation with her possessions in India. The
Czar would hold in control the route by
way of the Suez canal; or at best Great
Britain could keep it open only by main
taining a vastly superior fleet on the Med
iterranean; and it would' be difficult for
her to maintain there a fleet which would
not be practically overmatched by one
which Russia could ca-ily keep up in the
Black Sea and the Sea of Marmora. The
days are past when a Hood or a Nelson
might safely risk a battle if the odds
against him were much les than two to
one. A British Admiral must hencelorth
make his count upon meeting skill and
seamanship equal to his own, and what
ever advantage he gains must be gained
by sheer preponderance of force.
It Great Britain is to retain her Indian
empire, a collision there between her and
Russia is a foregone conclusion. An em
pire which, under a succession of sover
eigns ot very different character, has
steadily pressed its march of conquest
through the deserts of Turkistan, will not
be likely to look without longing eyes
on the lertile valley ot the Indus; and
here Russia will have a fearful advantage
in position. The Suez route practically
cltsed, as it would be in the event of war,
Britain could only reach India by the
long voyage round the Cape of Good
Hope, while Russia would have broad
highways for the march of her troops to
the banks of the Indm, whence she could
menace the whole peninsula of Hindos
tan. Dr. A. II. Guernsey, in ihe Galaxy.
The Lesson of a Life.
In December, 1845, in the Department
of the Vosges, Xavier Thiriat, a boy of
ten, accompanied four young girls of about
the same age to church. They had to cross
a brook, over which was placed a single
loose plank. The boy crossed safely; the
1. 1 .j a 1 !i ... mi
urst gin who aitempceu 11 leu iu. lue
boy jumped in, pulled her out, and then,
walking in the water, guided each of the
girls across. Some time was lost by this,
and the party reached the church Tate.
Xavier, ashamed of being late, did not go
up to the stove, but kept behind. He
reached homechilled, a dangerous disease
followed, by which he was left a complete
cripple for life; his only mode of moving
about was on hands and knees, so com
pletely were his legs paralyzed and dis
torted. Coming of a very poor people,
there was every prospect that Thiriat
would be a heavy charge to his family,
and a wretched burden to himself. In
stead of this -he reached manhood bright,
cheerful and intelligent. Reading all the
few books he could lay hold of, he was
soon the best educated man in his dis
trict; and rapidly acquired extensive in
fluence, which was always used for good.
He induced the young people to read aud
to study. Some contributions to the lo
cal newspaper, the Echo de Voitges, at
tracted attention and made him known,
the result of which was that further in
tellectual "opportunities were extended to
him. He made himself a good botanist,
meteorologist and geologist, instructed
others in these brauches, and procured the
foundation ot several local libraries. He
could not, however, be satisfied without
achieving his complete independence and
earning his support. He obtained the
position ot manager ot the teiegrapu at a
neighboring town, was made secretary to
the mayor, became a favorite correspond
ent of several agricultural papers, and re
ceived the highest reward ot the rench
"Fraukliu Society" its gold medal.
All this was accomplished by native
force of character and strong religious
feeling, under circumstances not merely
adverse, but at first sight absolutely hope
less." A horrible deformity, intense suf
fering, absence ;of instruction, crushing
poverty all these disabilities were.over
come unaided, and this ignorant and
crippled lad made himself the light, in
tellcctual and moral, of his whole dis
trict. Philadelphia Ledger.
Tiie latest triumph ot 1 ankee ingenu
ity is sour-milk jewelry, made by King
man & Hodges of Mansfield. The milk
comes in the shape of curd from the but
ter aud cheese-makiog counties in New
York, and looks, upon its arrival, a great
deal like popped corn, but before it leaves
the shop it undergoes a wonderful change,
and receives the name of American coral.
The secret in making it up is carefully
guarded, but it is certain that it has to be
heated very hot, during which coloring
matter is introduced, followed by a very
heavy pressure. Some of it is colored
black and called jet, while some appears
as celluloid. It. makes very handsome
jewelry, and is made into all kinds and
styles known to the trade.
Notoriety 13 one thing, and true
glory is quite another thing. Many per
sons have become notorious.around whose
lives no true glory or dignity has appeared ;
and nirtny men and women have been
honorable, in the highest sense, who have
lived unknown to fame and unheard of
beyond a narrow boundary.
Webster's Personal Appearance.
Mr. Webster was a model' of manly
excellence, of the highly civilized type;
he looked the gentleman perfectly. His
person represented the highest stylo of
artificial breeding. Though the son of a
plain "farmer, he was, physically, the im
personation of the form produced by a
de3cent from a long line of conquering,
intellectual, out-of-door exercising race.
His body was strong and muscular, his
chest full,.,hig head large and firmly 6et
upon his shoulders. His back was deeply
indented, and his most careless pose sug
gested pride of carriage, which idea was
confirmed by the natural elevation of his
face. ' His manners, nevertheless, were
singularly unpretentiou.f ' ainio.U child
like. He never strode into the Senate,
but sauntered in, as if personally unno
ticed, and himself without a care or pur
pose. This manner, really so fascinating,
concealed all outward show of his passing
thoughts, or immediate intentions. He
was so conscious of his power, and had
all of his mental resources so well in hand,
that he never was agitated or embarrassed.
His repartee in the private parlor, or fes
tive Iwj.ird, was as quick and bright as
were his legal arguments in the Supreme
Court unanswerable, or his elegance in
the Senate unsurpassed. Before deliver
ing a speech he often appeared absent-
minded, and acted as if unconscious of
being surrounded by an audience. Rising
to his feet, he seemed to gradually recov
er perfect self-possession, by assuming a
quiet manner, which was aided by thrust
ing his right hand within the folds of his
vest, while his left hung gracefully by
his side. A few sentences uttered, aud
the clear tones of his voice reaching his
own ear, they seemed to inspire him by
their musical sound. A moment more
and the man was changed. His dark
complexion grew warm with inward fire;
his eyes would start from their cavernous
depths and flash with inspiration; the
huge brain, in its mighty work, forcing
perspiration in rivulets down the palpi
tating temples. There never was a more
impressive personal appearance in the
forum, or a more magnificent form of
human effort, engaged in giving utter
ance to the workings of the mind. Yet,
ia these tremendous demonstrations of
intellect, Mr. Webster was never dra
matic in action. Even in the utterance
of his most eloquent sentences, his body
was in comparative quietude his won
derful eyes alone burned and coruscated;
in all other respects repose seemed the
normal condition of his magnetic frame.
Col. T. B. Tliorpein Baldwin" g Monthly.
Maxims of Rochefoucauld.
Our passions are the only orators who
are certain to persuade us.
We have all of 119 sufficient strength of
mind to endure the misfortunes of other
people.
Philosophy triumphs easily over past
evils and those to come, but present evils
triumph over philosophy.
It requires greater virtue to sustain
good fortune than bad.
The evil which we do does not draw
upon us so many persecutions and so much
hatred as our good qualities.
It we had no faults ourselves, we should
not have so much pleasure in discovering
the faults of o;hers. -
ine love 01 mstice in most meu is
nothing but fear of suffering from in
justice.
Many complain ot their memory, but
none complain ot their judgment.
Old men delight in uttering good pre
cepts to console themselves tor being no
longer in a condition to set bad examples
The surest way of being deceived is to
think yourself cleverer and more cunning
than any body else.
People are never made so ridiculous
by the qualities they possess as by those
which they affect to have.
Society could not long subsist it men
were not the dupes of one another.
Our repentance is not so much a re
gret for the evil we have done as a fear
of what may be the consequences.
When our vices quit u-, we natter our
selves that we quit our vices.
That which often prevents us from
abandoning ourselves to a single vice, is
the tact that we nave several.
He who lives without folly ia not so
wise as he thinks.
It is much easier to limit one's grati
tude than one's hopes and desires.
In the adversity ot our best friends we
always find somethiug that does not dis
please us.
It is not so dangerous to do evil to
most men as to do them too much good.
There is no man clever enoilgh to know
all the evil which he does.
Among the mass of mankind gratitude
is nothing but a stroug and secret desire
lor still greater benefits.
Living Chessmen. Most persons who
haveany acquaintance with the literature
of chess have heard of the games eaid to
have been played in the Middle Ages with
uving cnessmen. L,ord Liytton recently
received this amusement in India. During
his visit to Mooltao. his lordshio.
after receiving and replying to an address
irom tne municipality ot the city, en
gaged, we are told, "in a novel game of
chess with Col. Millett. The chess-board,
it such a term may be allowed to a car
pet of red and white calico with checkers
a yaru square, having been spread in
front "of the hall, chessmen, .men and
boys, dressed in opposing red and white
uniforms appropriate to the various pieces,
were marched in and took their places
inen oy wora 01 command each piece
movea to tne square indicated, and a
lively game ensued, ending in an easy
victory for the Viceroy." An emperor of
Mexico who once indulged in a similar
amusement is said to have added a ter
rible realism to the game by causing all
tne pieces taken duriog the process to be
oeneaded.
Poetry is the flour of literature; prose
ia the corn, potatoes and meat; satire is
the aquafortis; wit is the spice and
pepper; love letters are the honey and
sugar; and letters containing remittances
are the apple dumplings.
Never speak lightly of religion.
Fete Days in Paris.
The Radicals are very anxious to have
a national fete day, but there will be
some difficulty in selecting one. It is
related that when Lady Morgan visited
Paris in 1829 she said to Lafayette, "Ah,
Jiarquis, how can the French find their
way among all the dates -with which
they spangle their conversation?" Which
of these dates shall now be chosen to re
place the loth of August, or St. Napo
leon? St. Patrick's Day, in honor of
Patrice de MacMahon, is perhaps out of
the question just now.
Since the taking of the Bastile on the
14th of July, 1789, no fewer than twenty
seven famous dates have been added to
the republican calendar. Among the
most celebrated of thea may5 bemv
tioned the 10th of August, when the
Tuileries was taken by Btorm; the 21st
of January, when Louis XVI. was guil
lotined; the 31st of May, which wit
nessed the fall of the Girondists; the 21st
of September, or 1st Vendemiaire, proc
lamation of the Republic; the 9th
Thermidor, which saw the end of the
Reign of Terror and the fall of Robes
pierre; the 13th Vendemiaire, which be
held the appearance of Bonaparte on the
scene of action, when he treated the fac
tions to a whiff of grapeshot on the steps
of St. Roch; the 18th Brumaire, when he
assumed the chief power after first driv
ing out the Chambers.
After the Empire and the Restoration,
with their dates, came the three days of
July which saw the downfall of Charles
X., and next the 24th of February which
witnessed the expulsion of his successor
Louis Philippe, and the birth of another
Republic. The Republic of 1848 has its
dates, such as the 15th of May, when
the Constituent Assembly was invaded
by the clubs; the 5th of March, when
universal suffrage was born ; the three
days of June, when Cavaignac smote the
Socialists hip and thigh; the 10th of
December, when Louis Napoleoa was
elected President; the 13th of June, when
there was a revolt and Ledru Rollin es
caped by a skylight.
Then came the terrible 2d of Decem
ber, which slew the Republic the Re
public which only came to life again on
the 4th of September, 1870, and was
driven from Paris by the Commune on
the 18th of March, 1871. There are sev
eral other dates in the third Republic
not to be forgotten. Under Louis Phil
ippe the Cabinets formed by M. Thiers
were usually spoken of as those of the
11th of October and the 1st of March;
now we constantly hear of the 24th of
May, the day upon which he was re
placed by Marshal MacMahon; the 28th
of January means the capitulation of
Paris, the 8th of February the truce of
Bordeaux, the 20th of November the
Septennate, aud the Constitution of Feb
ruary the present Constitution.
The first Republic established all kinds
of fetes those of "the abolition of
orders," that of "the oath to the nation,"
of "regeneration," of "animals the friends
of man," &c. These were recommended
by the Bishop of Autun, afterwards bet
ter known as M. de Talleyrand. When
Napoleon was in Egypt he issued the fol
lowing order of the day from his
headquarters at Cairo, dated 1st Vende
miaire, year VII. : "Soldiers, we celebrate
the first day of the seventh year of the
Republic," &c. And afterwards, when
First Consul, lie wrote: "Two great
epochs exist in the Revolution, the 14th
of July and the 1st Vendemiaire, foun
dations of the Republic completed by the
10th of August. These days are imper
ishable; they have been hailed by French
men with unanimous transports; the
Consuls propose that these dates alone
shall be celebrated in the name of the
Republic." Pall Mall Gazette's Paris
Correspondence.
Mr. Henry Meiggs, the enormously
wealthy railway contractor of South
America, is a native of this State, and
about 65 years old. He first sought his
fortune in California, and opened up the
great lumber interests of that Western
coast, lie engaged in many schemes of
public benefit, but being obliged to bor
row money the usurious rates of interest
then prevailing in California took him.
beyond his depth, and he went to South
America leaving behind him heavy liabil
ities. There he made large sums as a
railway contractor and then settled the
California claims. He owns two resi
dences one in the City of Lima and the
other in the suburbs where he dispenses
hospitality to every American or foreigner,
and especially to Californians, on every
possible occasion. 2io American was
ever hard-pressed lor money without
Mr. Meiggs coming to his rescue and
supplying him with means to go to any
part ot the world he might desire. His
"Quinta," or private dwelling-house, is
situated in the midst of sixty acres of
pleasure grounds, filled with the rarest
fruits and flowers. Half of the entire
product of his orchard he gives to the
Sisters of Charity ia the city, who come
and gather it themselves every year. In
religion Mr. Meiggs is a Protestant, but
he has allowed his children perfect free
dom in the choice of creeds. Two of
them are Roman Catholics, and a third
Episcopalian. AT. T. Tribune.
Fish are uncommonly plentiful in
Housatonic river this year. Since the
State has become interested in propaat-
ing nsn ine river is lined with immense
schools of small trout, salmon, roach, bay
percn, sucKera, pickerel and salver eels.
The loss of shad ha3 been lamented on
the part of the owners of fisheries, but
the consumers of shad do not feel the
loss because there has not been a time
since the Derby dam was built when
shad were dearer than they were before
that time, and as a rule they have been
retailed at a less price.
TJnclk
farm left.
Sam has a pretty good sized
According to the report of
the Secretary of the Interior, 6,524,326
acres were disposed of during the last
fiscal year, for which the cash receipts
were $1,745,215.85. During the year
21,806,517 acres were surveyed, leaving
yet to be Burveyed a trifle oyer 1.132 .
665,214 acres. '
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