" t - ... . :
DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON.
VOL. 11.
OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JUNE 7, 1877.
NO. 33.
Bananas
tfTt
11 r H
is
!
THE ENTERPRISE.
""XLOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOB THE
Farmer, Unine Man and Family Vlrrlr.
ISSUED KVEItY TUUK5DAY.
1 FEAK S. IDIEIMIIEIISr'X?,
pnorniKToa and rcns-isacR.
Official Paper for Clackamas County.
OOice: In Enterprise Iiiiil41u,
Oiii door HVilh of Masonic Building. Main Street.
lriu of KulcrItJiioj :
single Copy, one year, in advancs
jingle Copy, six uiouths, iu advance
Terms of Alcrliiis :
Transient advertisement, including all legal
notices, per square of twelve linc6, one
53 50
1 50
week
Fur each subsequent tnsertiuu
Oue Column, one ar
Half Colnn'i'. one year
lilii-KkTiiii, one yar
irfwac-'fl Card, oi aiviaro. cucytn:.....
SOCIETY NOTICES
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O.
Meets every Thursday Evening. at..
X o clock, in Odd Fellows' llall.v
Main Street. Meinbcrn of the Order Vf-Tf
By order of N. a.
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2,
i. o. o. r., meets on the Second and "
Fourth Tuo-dnj Eveninesof each month, -
ar ,j, ocioi-K, in the Odd Fellows' Hall. . ',
A Ambers of thu Dearie are invited t ss
attend.
FALLS ENCAMPMENT. N. 4.
I. O. O. F.. meeU at Odd Fellows' Hall oaJJ (J
the First and Third Tuesday of each month. ZzZ
Patriarchs in good standing are invited toXS?
tteiid. Q 0
MULTNOMAH LODGiu, No. 1,
l. F. A: A.M., holds itn regular communi- o
ations on the l'ir-t and Third Saturday 7
n each month, at 7 o'clock fmm t). "nil, "v
of Heptember0to the 2oth of March; and MV
7 o'clock from the 2otb of Mar.-h to the '
20th of September
Brethren in j;ood standing are
invited .t attend.
isy order of w. M.
BUSINESS CAIIDS.
- .e .
J. W. NORR1S,
Physician and Kiirgfosi.
OFKICE AND KKEIDKNCE :
On Fourth 3!re t. at foot of CliO" Stairway. tf
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CANBY, OREGON,
EMi.ysioia ja nasi! I5ri3isJ.
BTTresi-riptioiis carefully filli ;l at sliort notice.
O .iVT-tf
PAUL DOYCS, M.D.,
Ohkoos City. Obfjuin.
Cirouij l)isras"R and Dis-cases of Women and
Children a specialty.
Office Honrs day and tiij,'ht; always n adv win n
duty calls.O aiiu2.-.,"'TC-tf
DR. JOHN WELCH,
DEXTTST.
OFFICE IX OREGON CITY OKECiOX.
Highest cash price paid for County Orders.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
ATTORNEYS aud COUNSELORS AT LAW
OREGON Ciry, OREGON.
Will practice in all the Courts of the State.
Special attenti n piven t etists in the Vnittd
States Land Office at Oreyon City. 5apr'72 tf
L. T. BAR IN,
ATTOKXKY AT I. AW,
OREGON CITV. OREGON.
Will practice in all In-- Courts of the State,
novl, '73-tf
W. H. HIGHFIELD,-
Uhi tuhllKhod lti- -ll,
o Cino door North of Pope's Hall,
ji lis nt., hi:(,i c iTV, 4i::t.-'.
An assoitiuent of Watches, Jew lrv, and
Seth Thomas' Weight Clocks, all of "which
are wurramru 10 oe as representeii. c,.
kX"Kepairing done on short notice; and thanki nl
tor past patronnRe.
l'uiil lur Count.,- Orders.
JOHN M. BACON,
DEALER IN
mm
i nnriTci nmi mm vrnrTT
DUUA0, OlAliUllLttl.StaSs
J PICTURE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MI3CEE-
f LANEOL S GOODS.
! Fit km ji tm: tii ouuijt.
1 Obeuom Citv, Oreoon.
I TAt the Pokt Office, Main Street, west side.
? uovl.'Totf
j. if. iu,u&.uaivii t fly
1 CJKXKUAL KVSIAlr,
j I'OKTLAND. OREGOX.
t 1 LT.f-st of rcfercncps givi'ii. il' t23-'7
t) HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL,
Hub, SjoItvs, Igiiai,
OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK.
-OKTUKl l A TIi((M,
uui31,'7C-tf Portlunl. Oregon.
J. H. SHEPARD,
t ati ssaos: stoissz:,
One door North of Ackerman Eros.
8 Boots and Shoes made aud repaired as cheap
as the cheapest. novl, 'T5 tf
I MILLER, CHURCH & CO.
PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT.
At all times. t the
OREGON CITY MILLS.
And have on hand FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
market rates. Parties desiring Feed must furnish
Cks. nntl'Of
p
A. C. WALLINC'S
f tioncer 22o6k ISinderv
rmock s Building, cor. of Stark and Front Sts.,
1'OKTI.VM). Oltl.dON.
In
LANK ROOlTft pi t rn i v-t T?r.T-rx o-n x--
rtlern. Music Bo. ks. Magazines,
Vnown ?or1hetC;- V"lnd ia everJ- r'"ty of style
romli. ... .,ri!lIe- Orders from the country
-LZlZI novl, "75-tf
OREGON cTtVbREWERY.
Hati "1X-L -MADDElt.
rowhVrVD.redrt? Uie "ubhc th tbeTafe'S
?lty P manufacture a N0. iMjZ1
the State.
ua promptly filled.
1 00
. iv:o oo
. 60 00
40 )
. ii 00
o. r.
I'M
J
MVSIVGS.
I sit In my room in the lamplight.
And look at my books lying n.und ;
Thtn my thoughts wander forth with a tramp-like
Monotjny of feeling and sound.
I think of my friends that are scattered,
I think of my friends that are near.
And I wonder if my soul would f-el llattered.
Could their thoughts of myself reach my ear.
Conld their thoughts unvarnished and openly,
Without hypocritical guise.
Bo laid like an open book 'fire me,
A chapter that's clear to the eyes.
Wulil their boast of love and esteem.
Boar a keen an 1 critical test?
Or would there be few whoi-e hearts could redeem
Their promise of friendship till death?
E.vx at in;
BOTOS KNTE KTAIN'if ENT FuS THE "OLD
south ft:sd."
"While stands t!ie Coliseum, Home shall stand;
When falls tue Coliseum, Home shuli fall."
Full seven rcore year3 our o'ttr' riJe-4-
Has cas' ' be.Jsiw, 't&Z
The stortn, tne foe, tne tre-r
Sad is the sight our eyes betlcild ;
Woe to the three-hilled town, '
When through the land the tale Is told
The brave 'Old South' is down ! "
Let shadows blot the starless dawu
That hears our children tell,
" Here rose the walls, now wrecked and gone.
Our fathers loved so well ;
Here, while his bretheru stood aloof.
The hearald's blast was blown
That shook St. Stephen's pillared roof
And wrecked King George's throne !
' The home-bound wanderer of the main
Looked from his deck afar.
To where the glittering gilded vane
Shone like the evening star.
And pilgrim feet from every clime,
The floor with reverence trod.
Where holy memories made sublime
The shrine of Freedom's God I "
The dnrkened skies, alna ! have seen
The monarch tree laid low.
And spread in ruins o'er the green,
liut Nature struck the blow;
No scheming thrift its downfall planned,
It felt no edge of steel.
No soulless hireling raised his lian 1
The deadly stroke to deal.
Iu bridal garlands, pale aud mute,"
Still pleads the storied tower;
These are the blossoms, but the fruit
Awaiis the golden shower;
The spire still greets the morning sun
Say, shall it stand or fall ?
Help, ere the spoiler has begun !
Help, each, and God help all !
THE OLD MAN AND -HIS PET.
BY KNCKLEY.
Soma years ago it came iu my way to
take charge of a large quarry situated
in the town of P . It was some
way from the village, and close besiJe a
small river forming a communication
with the sea. which was distant but a
few miles. The channel of this river
was barely tleep enough, when the tide
was full, to iloat the barges which were
towed iu by a small tug and left for us
to load, anil then towed out again to a
small harbor at its mouth, their load
transferred to a larger vessel, and then
returned for us to till again.
The quarry, which employed about
fifty men, wus seldom visited by any
oue except the owners and an occasion
al visitor from the village, whom curi
osity prompted to traverse the seven
miles of rough, hilly, forest-bordered
road which separated us from it; and
so we lived a very isolated life. There
was not much to be seen about the spot
except some cavernous openings in the
side of a hill, great piles of yellow earth
and broken stone, and several tall der
ricks with a network of supporting guys
anil ropes.
The men lived a good deal like cattle,
iu two or three low, brown, unnainted
nouses, urns siooii close by the river
bank, and alternated between working,
e.itintr, ami sleeping; iu fact, very miudi
like human ma hioes. They were a
coarse, lawless set of fellows, often mak
ing predatory excursions under cover of
night to some farmhouse, and returning
with sundry stolen delicacies in the way
of poultry, eggs ami trait, ami spending
their Sumlays in gambling, hunting and
fishing.
Fighting was a frequent pastime with
them, and to excel in the manly art of
knock-down seemed to be their highest
ambition. The spot, by reason of its
wild, rocky surroundings, and the un
civilized horde of men dwelling in it,
came to be known as "The Devil's
Koost." The men were not. as a major
ity, really vicious, though many of them
had known life within prison walls;
but removed, as they were, from the
restraints of society and softening in
fluences of women, they were simply
animal. I had no trouble in controll
ing cr directing them with the use of a
few reasoning words, and found the one
thing they resented most was the as
sumption of any sijecial superiority over
them.
One day there came to the quarry, by
way of our tug-boat communication with
the outer world, an old man whom the
owners had found somewhere and sent
up as an addition to our force. He was
a morose and silent-appearing chap,
with a kind of downcast look and way
with him, as if he carried some burden
of guilt; and his hair and beard were as
white as tiio driven snow. He called
himself "Doric," and when asked the
place of his nativity replied "nowhere."
He evidently was not inclined to tell
much of his history, and beyond a few
attempts by some of the men to draw
him out which efforts, bV the way,
were fruitless they let him entirely
alone. He was assigned a place to sleep,
a seat at the rough board table, directed
where to work, and soon fell into the
regular routine with the rest. Though
he said nothing to the other men, and
went about his work in a silent, uncom
plaining way, still he SOOn became an
object of great curiosity, for wherever
he went, to work, to eat, to sleep, or
away to sit by himself in some shady
nook on a hot summer Sunday, heal ways
carried a small wire cage that contained
a toad! It was a curious freak, and
among a set of men naturally ignorant
and bigoted, it soon created quite a buzz
of superstition. As Dennis O'Reilly
a genuine son of Erin, remarked: '
"Troth, an' it's an oncanny sort ov a
man that, that 'ud be makin' a vet of a
dirty toad!" F
It was a little singular; and I grew a
trifle curious myself to see the white
haired old man lavish so much attention
on a reptile usually considered so re
pulsive. "When at work he would place
its cage in some secure spot where he
could watch it, and often he would stop
to catch some bug or beetle to give to his
strange pet. When cot at work, he
would let the toad out of its cage, and
watch it hop around in the grass with
as much, apparent pleasure as a little
child would watch the gambols oi a pet
kitten. He would stroke it, and talk to
it, as if it were a human being, and
perhaps feeling that it was regarded
with suspicion by those he was with
never allowed it ont his sight a moment.
He had taught it to follow him when
called with a eculiar chirp, and often
ho would walk to and from his work
with the toad perched upon his shoul
der. The men indulged in all sorts of spec
ulations about the old man and his pet;
some of them, like Dennis, who could
not get over their characteristic horror
of frogs and toads, boldly assertsd that
the old chap was a sorcerer, and this
reptile was the form under which some
evil spirit was hidden; and others said
he was partially demented. But none
of this talk reached the old man, and he
went about his work as usual, saying
nothing to anyone except his toad.
Sometimes in the summer evenings,
after the day's work was done, and the
men were gathered together smoking
and telling stories or playing cards, he
would steal away by himself and talk to
his poor little dumb companion in a way
that, although it seemed childish, yet,
nevertheless, was a little pathetic.
I questioned him several times about
it, but he was very reticent, and the
only answer I got was:
"Don't mind my fancy, sir; that toad
is the only living friend I have."
But this reply only excited my curi
osity still more; and at last, by a series
of friendly overtures toward the strange,
silent old man, I succeeded in gettin g
his history.
"I do not wish the others to know,"
he said, "for they would not under
stand it, but that toad once saved my
life. Thirty years ago I was a young
man just entering upon life with all its
anticipations ahead of me. Although I
was poor, I had a good trade, and was
shortly to be married to a girl who
seemed to me to be all that heart could
wish. I lived with a widowed mother
in a jleasant country towrn many miles
from here, and, being an only son, was
her sole support. I had quita a num
ber of companions who were rather
reckless aud dissipated, and given to
drinking, and one night while wo were
all the worse for liquor, we got into a
row, and one of them was so injured
that he died. I was no worse than the
rest, but they all threw the burden of it
upon me, and I was sentenced to prison
for life. It was hard, sir, at my time of
life to be shut up and feel that prison
walls were to hold mo while life lasted,
and for something for which I was nt
to blame. But there was no help for it;
I was poor and friendless, and so they
locked me up. The girl who had prom
ised to share my life, offered to go to
prison with me, but they would not al
low it; then she bade me have hope, for
I might escape, and she swore to wait
for me while she lived.
"At first I tried by good behavior to
gain a pardon, and failing in that I grew
desperate and tried to escape. But it
was no use; the prison was strong and
closely guarded, and every attempt was
a failure. I only received whippings
and weeks of solitary confinement for
my efforts.
"So year after year dragged past, and
I grew morose and sullen. I was taken
every day to work in a stone-yard with
in the prison walls, and then locked up
again in my cell at dark. The prison
ers were not allowed to speak to each
other; no books or papers were ever
given us to read; and it was nothing but
work, look at tho gray stone walls, and
think, think, think.
"Oh, how I longed to look at some
green growing thing! A tree, a bit of
green grass 1 Anything that would re
lieve the gray, gloomy stone Avails and
iron grates of the prison. There was a
littleclusterof poorstuntel weeds grow
ing in one corner of the stone-yard; a
kind I used to know as rag-weed; they
grew yellow and sickly in the shadow of
the jn'ison wall, and choked with the
dust of the stone cutting, but for all
that I used to watch them with a hun
gry longing, and think of the green
woods and fields they spoke to me of.
I grew to love these poor sickly weeds,
even as a woman will love the flowers
that grow in her garden; and when au
tumn came and they withered and died,
I grew hopeless. I watched for them
again in the spring, and they came back
but not for long; for a lot of stone
was piled in that corner, and my poor
weeds were crushed out of sight. Then
I grew more hopeless than ever. If
this was to continue to the end, I
thought, nothing but a weary, change
less round, why not hasten the end ?
"The idea of suicide once in my head.
I could not get rid of it. It haunted
me day and night. My life was nothing
but one unending round of silent labor,
as bare and cheerless as the granite I
worked upon. I went for days without
speaking; only brooding upon my un
just sentence and hopeless situation,
until even tho sunshine that glowed
down into the prison yard seemed to
mock my misery with the visions of
green fields and sparkling brooks it
brought to my mind. Visions, alas!
that even hope refused to tell me I was
ever again to behold. I grew desperate
with a wild longing to end myjiopeless
existence at once, and kept revolving in
my mind which one of the few ways of
death that lay in my power was the
quickest and surest. In my sleep I
dreamed of once more meeting the wo
man I loved, and telling her, in ghostly
glee, how I had escaped by leaving my
bodv buried in my desolato prison yard.
But the waking mockery of bare walls
and my sileDt labor only drove me into
a more hepeless, insane state of mind.
I had even gone so far ar to secrete a
small chisel which I had sharpened for
the purpose of cutting an artery in my
, arm, and only waited for a certain even
ing whose pleasant memories I thought
would nerve me for the act. I had hid
den the chisel under the block of stone
I was at work upon, and wnen the night
came I watched a chance, while no one
was looking, and reached under the stone
for it. But even as I drew forth the bit
of cold iron that was to set me free, out
from under that stone there hopped a
toad. It leaped upon a bit of stone and
stood looking at me and blinking its
great brown eyes in silent surprise. I
stopped to look at tbe creature a mo
ment, for it had been years since I had
seen one, and somehow jt carried me
back to my boyhood; and then there
came to mo a thought that if that poor,
despised thing could find comfort in
bopjHDg about, dumb, senseless, and
alone, iu a dusty prison yard, why not
1? "
"Thai bit of reflecticii turned my
thoughts aside from the lA-Tf insane and
cowardly purpose that bad come to me,
and I left the chisel where it was and
took the toad instead. I carried him
to my cell that night, and the next day
I contrived to find some bits of wood
and string and made him a sort of cage.
I caught beetles and bugs to feed Lim
on, and you may think it strange, sir
but the first bit of happiness I had
known for seven long years, came to me
while I watched that poor little toad
eat the food I had brought to it You
may think it was a hideous thing to
make a pet of, but it was something
that had life, and the care of it kept me
from that terrible, ho25eless, desolation
of feeling that was driving me crazy. I
began to love the creature as one love3
a dog or a horse. I received no return
for the little care I gave it, except a
mere brightening of its brown eyes as
it swallowed the food I gave it; but I
have since learned that the creatures wo
love best in this world are not those
that make us the most return.
"I kept that toad for months before
the jailor discovered it; but he did,
finally, and was going to take it away
from me, but I begged so "hard yes,
even on my knees I begged for the priv
ilege of keeping it that he consented.
I have kept it ever since.
"Twelve years after that I was par
doned out of prison, but the woman
who had promised to wait for me was
married and had a family grown up
around her; my mother was dead; all
my friends had forgotten mo, and 1, at
fifty years of age, was an old, gray
haired man. People who once knew
me treated me with the cold disdain
thatwhether he be innocent or guilty
always follows a condemned felon, and
so I have come to shun all human kind.
I am a long ways from the scenes of my
youth; no one knows even my real
name, or ever shall, and all I have to
anticipate is the few remaining years in
which I may sustain a friendless exist
ence. My life has been a wreck, and I
am now but a mere worthless chip, float
ing, unknown and unnoticed, down to
ward the final harbor.
"This is the story of my life, sir; and
all I ask is that you will not tell it to
these men with whom I work. They
may think me crazy, or demented, as
they choose. It matters not. Some
times I think I am; and sometimes,
when I realize how little there is for me
to anticipate, I wish that amid the bar
ren desolation of that prison life I had
not found the toad."
The old man told me his story in an
earnest sort of way that evinced its
truth, and as he sat, bowed, wrinkled
and gray, on a bit of stone close beside
the dark opening of the quarry out of
which came the dull sound of picks,
aud in which, among a lot of coarse, un
feeling men he was fated to delve, with
no kith or kin, no joys or hopes, no
home or friends, nothing to cling to ex
cept the delusion of freedom, and the
love of life, I was forced to think that
then, if not before, death would be a
blessing to him. But he went patiently
about his work, still determined, like
all the rest of us, who- -whether good"
or ill conditioned still cling to exist
ence with a desperate clutch and pursue
the will-o'-wisp of hope even to the last.
But the old man's hard fate and
strange whim won a little pity from me,
and I resolved, if it lay in my power,
to throw a trifle of sunshine in his path
way. I had noticed that many of the
men had taken a dislike to him, and
some of the most ignorant had said that
he was a sort of sorcerer, and that his
fondness for a toad was proof conclu
sive that he was in league with the
devil. So, without telling much of his
history, I took occasion to explain to
some of them that his peculiar reti
cence was the result of some great grief,
and that the toad he made such a pet of
had once been the means of saving his
life. This new version of his mysteri
ous conduct was accepted by the men
quite readily, and I soon began to no
tice a change in their treatment of him.
They ceased avoiding him, and tried to
converse with him more than before;
they offered to help him about his work,
and invited him to join them in some of
their sports. When any one of them
attempted to ridicule him to the others,
they would turn the flow of blackguard
and badinage upon the indiscreet joker,
and completely shut him up. They
even began to pay some attention to his
strange pet; I often noticed one or more
of them catching bugs or flies to feed
the ever hungry creature.
Many of them who had never known
what it was to make a pet of anything
in their lives, began to look around for
some living thing to take care of, and it
was only a few weeks before nearly
every one of those rough, coarse men,
had some sort of an animal for a pet.
One man caught and caged a wood
chuck, another a crow, another a black
snake, and quite a number obtained
mice and squirrels. One odd genius in
the gang fixed up a rude aquarium and
filled it with various kinds of fish, and
another took no rest until he had cap
tured an owl. There was a trifle of ab
surdity in tho sudden mania for pets
which had been started by the old man
and his toad, but it was not without
its good effect, for in its pursuit the
men forgot their gambling and fighting
pastimes. Instead of the disputes and
COURTESY CF BANCROFT LIBRARY ,
UNIVERSITY CF CALIFORNIA,
carousals for which "The Roost" had
been famous, it becane quite an orderly
and well behaved little community.
Evenings and Sundays, which con
stituted about all the spare time the
men had, were devoted to obtaining
food and caring for their pets. It was
really amusing to see how much like
children they acted in the pursuit of
their new whim; but for all that it was a
purifying influence, and appealed to
their better natures.
The old man was too misanthropic and
gloomy to take any interest in what the
rest wero interested in. He looked on
in quiet surprise, as if wondering what
need they hail of pets, but was as silent
as ever. Ho thanked them for the few
kind deeds they did for him, and looked
pleased at any little attention, but for
all that he shunned them, and acted as
if his toad was the only friend he had.
O ne day I asked him how many years
he had kept his pet. He thought for a
moment, and then answered,
"Twenty-three."
"It is a long time to keep such a pet,"
I said.
"Yes," replied the old man, sadly,
"but it's all I have to keep.''
It seemed a strange delusion, yet to
that old man, withered and gray, and
with the sand of life almost run out, it
was terribly real.
One day the creature, whose advent
among us had created such a mania for
pets, was found in his cage dead. Some
of the men offered their condolence to
the old man, and others volunteered to
find him another just like it; while one,
more facetious than the rest, suggested
giving tho reptile a first-class funeral,
and offered to preach the funeral ser
mon. But amid all the well meant, but
unthinking sympathy, the old man was
silent. The creature that had stayed
his insane impulse of self-murder, and
had relieved the desolate monotony of
twelve years of prison life, was more to
him than they could realize. They all
thought him ff little childish, when, at
the close of the next day, he was seen
putting his dead pet away in a little hole
beneath a hemlock that shadowed a bend
in the river just above the quarry, but
no one ventured a reference to it "in his
hearing. After that he was more silent
than ever, and often went whole days
without speaking. When any one offered
him sympathy it was met with a won
dering look of surprise, as if he felt
that their pity was a jest. His silent,
expressionless grief at the loss of such a
strange pet was as odd as the man him
self, and yet there seemed something in
it that was just a bit pathetic.
"You seem to miss your pet," I paid
to him one evening as he sat with bowed
head watching the fading sunlight.
"Yes," he answered slowly, "a little.
Although it was a strange thing to love,
it was all I had."
Though I felt his whim was tho re
sult of his dreary prison life, and a sort
of monomania, vet for all that I pitied
him. It seemed hard that a strong life
should be so utterly wrecked, even if
partially guilty of crime, though that I
did not believe. His looks and story
were good evidence to the contrary.
But he was only one among tho swarui
iDg millions of human beings, and but
for the oddity of his history and whim,
would never had provoked a second
thought. One morning he was missing,
and half suspecting what his delusion
would lead him to, I caused a search to
be made in the adjoining woods. We
had no need to look far, for close be
side tho trunk of a hemlock, where he
had laid his little dumb fiiend away to
rest, we found the old man lying cold
and still. His joyless, prison-shadowed
life was ended. Wavtrly Magazine.
The Romantic Mareiaoe or the
Great Lord Eldon. At Newcastle
there lived a charming brown-eyed
beauty, one Bessie Surtees, the daught
er of a well-to-do banker in that town.
Young Scolt was deeply smitten; the
object of his attentions was not unkind;
but Surtees vr?, though m trade
himself, felt that he must draw the line
somewhere, and accordingly drew it at
coal. No alliance- could be permitted
between the son of the man who drew
his wealth from the deposits of the earth
anil the daughter of the mau who drew
his wealth from tho deposits of his cli
ents ! Such a .union was not to be
heard of. Oblivious of these delicate
social considerations, John Scott took
the matter in hand himself, and one ro
mantic dark night fled with his lady
love across the border, and was married
by a Scotch clergyman, to the intense
ire of the blacksmith of Gretna Green.
Unlike the generality of such unions,
the marrijge was a very happy one.
Mrs. Scott proved a most devoted wife,
affectionate, frugal, and bound up in
the interests of her husband and her
children. "Poor Bessie," mused the old
chancellor to u fellow townsman when
his helpmate had been taken away from
him, "if ever there was an angel on
earth, she was one. The only repara
tion which one man can make to another
for running away with his daughter, is
to be exemplary in his conduct toward
her." The power of love certainly impels
its victims to commit strange acts. No
one who knew the intensely cautious,
cunctative, deliberate Lord Eldon would
have imagined that he had been guilty
of so volatile a proceeding as an elope
ment. Temple Bar.
"Pull out, Bill!" shrieked an engi
neer's son to his playmate, a brake
man's boy, who was in eminent danger
of getting smashed by his mother, who
was coming after him. "Git on the
main line and give her steam! Here
comes the sn itch enginel" But before the
juvenile could get in motion she had
him by the ear, and he was laid up with
a hot box. Burlington Ilmckeye.
Music has a wonderful power over
the passions. Tho man who couldn't
set a tub out under the eaves to catch
rain-water for his wife without grum
bling in a most profane way, stood for
half an hour in the rain without an um
brella and listened to the minstrel band
on the hotel piazza with a face in do
cile repose. Banbury Xexc3.
Fashion Notes.
Many of tho new polonaises and
saqvfes close diagonally in front.
Embroidered waistcoats are worn
with ladies' new Bieton costumes.
Smoked pearl buttons are still used
on both woolen and cotton dresses.
Unglazed white cards of medium
size are the favorites for ladies' visiting
cards.
Low shoes and fancy socks will be
fashionable for summer wear for gen
tlemen. Hemstitched handkerchiefs, with deejj
colored borders, are used for mourning
wear.
Mantles and dolmans are much worn.
Brown, drab and fawn are the prevail
ing colors.
A pretty fancy in dress trimmings is-to
put a chenille cable cord on the edges of
collars and cuffs.
Parasols trimmed with coverings of
netted floss, and edged with netted
fringes, are to be among the new fash
ions. ,
Wax-flower makers are arranging
funeral tokens, such as crosses, harps
and anchors which look as natural as ex
otics, cost little more, aud aro not per-
lsnauio.
The topic most discussed by the
ladies at the present time is the latest
French revolution in dress, calling for
the use of the new light and elegant
pannier skeleton or wire skirt.
As many basques as polonaises are
seen among the importations from
Worth and Pingat this spring. Still,
the fashion reporters from the old
world speak of little beside polonaises,
princess dresses, and empire robes.
The "directoire," or "ineroyable," a
garment forming a part of a suit, is
made with long cuirass front; the back,
with four long, narrow pieces, is ma le
to reach the trimming of tho under
skirt. These long coat-tails are joined
together down the back with ribbon
bow3, beginning below the waist; the
side seams below the waist have rows
of buttons set on; it is finished with
double cordings.
Crepe lisse ties, embroidered and
scalloped on the edges, have peacocks
eyes, pheasants' feathers and the plum
age of tropical birds closely imitated in
colored floss. Half-squares of crepe de
chine, embroidered in the corners with
contrasting colors, are worn over the
shoulders. Summer dresses will have
foulard or grenadine fichus added for
street wear.
In jewelry we find a novelty in lace
scarf or vail pin of rolled gold. The
background is plaia "dead" gold, upon
which is the first bar of the popular
ballad, "Ever of The," set to music.
The bars and notes are in polished gold,
and the effect is very pretty and ex
pressive. Necklaces and pendants in
"Leusaic" shell are very poiMilar.
They are a perfect imitation, showing
all the clear, beautiful colors of the tor
toise shell, with the advantage of being
much stronger, and are mado in real
shell designs.
Change of Woek. That was a wise
father who, on hearing his little daugh
ter request her brother to drive a few
nails in the woodhouse for her, said he
would teach her how to do it herself.
She was apt, and drove in all the nails
successfully; so pleased was she with
her success, that she would have set a
double row around the shed if her fath
er had not concluded that these would
answer for the present. "There, that
little lesson helps to make you inde
pendent, my girl,'' he said. "Now I
will teach you some day to catch and
harness up a horse. You have already
learned to drive a gentle one. Learn to
sharpen a knife, and whittle, too. with
out cutting your finders. Don't let the
doors creak for want of an oiled feather,
or the little children's boots get hard in
the winter for the wantof alittle grouse."
Take a lesson from this, girls. You
don't know where you will be cast away
some time during your life. Tho most
helpless people I ever met are those
who can only do one kind of work.
Learn to help yourselves, even if,
sometimes, you trench upon " bov's
work. "
The Real Comforts of Life. There
are numerous eoncejMions of pleasure
and comfort. Most people find, with
or without experience, that the real
comforts of life aro found at home. For
there the devoted wife is the presiding
deity; there the children praise and
play; there the young girl approxi
mates and reaches womanhood; within
its sacred precincts youth puts on the
responsibilities of manhood, there are
the reunions of hearts and hopes and
prayers; there can be found real rest;
there are the place and affection typi
cal of the better life; there the germin
atin and binding together of hearts
and minds and souls in a bond as strong
as a chain, and as lovely as a wreath of
beauteous flowers; there the memories
that glow and exist with life itself;
there the influences that strengthen and
bless and guide in after years, what
ever we do and wherever our footsteps
roam.
"Mr Cook." This is a lively little
game, and creates great fun until the
secret is found out. Some one who
knows the game takes the post of leader.
He cries, "I have a cook who doesn't
like peas," and going over to one of the
party, he inquires, "What would you
give her?" "Pork," suggests the person
asked. "That won't do, so pay a for
feit." Then going to another, he makes
the same inquiry. "Potatoes," is the
reply. "This will not suit, either," and
another forfeit is demanded. The cext
person asked, replies, "mutton," and he
escapes a forfeit; the next, "soup," and
he pays a forfeit; the next, "steak," and
he escapes; the next, "beer," and he es
capes; the next, "pickles," and he is in
for a forfeit, and so on. The secret is,
that no article with the letter "p" is
suitable, and till this is found out the
game may continue.
The Use of Saleratus in Milk.
A correspondent inquires whether
soda or saleratus may be used in milk
and, if so, how it is to be applied iu
milk designed for cheese making.
When milk becomes changed an al
kali is sometimes used for neutralizng
acidity. There is no harm in using a
small quantity of saleratus or soda for
the purpose named, and it should be
added before the rennet is applied. It
should be applied in solution, being dis
solved in water. Care must be taken
not to use alkalies in too large quantity,
as they have a tendency to combine with
the fats of tho milk, making soap. Wo
have often employed a solution of sale
ratus for sweetening sour milk, in the
way named, and then worked it into a
fair quality of cheese.
A lew years ago, Mr. Jocelyn (then of
the Little Valley Factory) , claimed he
could procure a superior skimmed
cheese by the use of alkalies; and his
process, as described by him, is as fol
lows: The milk is set long enough for
the cream to sour before skimming
then churn and mix this sour buttermilk
with the tour skimmilk and '"the acid
will destroy the fiber in the milk so that
it will be a tender cheese." Then the
mass is heated up rapidly, an.l when at
the proper temperature alkalies are add
ed sufficient to neutralize the acid and
saponify the remaining grease in the
milk, so that a smooth curd and a clear
grease whey are obtained, and the curd
goes into the hoops no sourer than when
cheese is made from sweet milk.
At a meeting of the American Dairy
men's Association, Mr. Jocelyn exhibit
ed cheese which he claimed was made
under this process, and old cheese
makers, as well as experts, were aston
ished at the fine flavor and rich quality
of the product shown. Since that time
we have heard but little of this process
and we conclude it has not been prac
ticed to any extent, or that it did not
meet all the conditions claimed when in
the hands of other makers Rural New
Yorker.
Rinderpest in Eceope. In view of
the renewed and alarming appearance
of this fearful malady in Europe, the
Treasury Department has lately issued
the following instructions to collectors
and other officers of the customs:
The prevalence of rinderpest in Ger
many, and of that rnalady and the foot
and mouth disease in England, has led
this Department to prohibit the im
portation of neat cattle and the hides of
such from those countries iuto the
United States. By reason of the prox
imity of Holland and Belgium to Ger
many, and of Ireland to England, the
prohibition is hereby extended to em
brace such importations from those
countries.
The Department is infromed that the
rinderpest is infectious as well as con
tagious, and that sheep, horses and
swine may be media for its communica
tion. It is also understood that the litter
upon which these animals sleep spreads
the disease. While the Department has
no authority under the law to prohibit
tho importation of horses, sheep and
swine, it desires that all measures prac
ticable be taken ou the ai rival of such
animals from the countries named to
prevent the possibility of contagious
diseases being comrnunicatad thereby
to stock in the United States.
It is suggested that horses, sheep and
swine, coming from any of the coun
tries named, bo examiued by experts,
and, it necessary, quarantined for a rea
sonable time; to which it is apprehend
ed that importers, as a rule, will offer
no special objections, as it is to the in
terest of all concerned to prevent the
spread cf this disease in the United
States. Blooded stock coming from
the countries named may be admitted
when accompanied by a consular cer
tificate of non-infection, as authorized
by Department's letter of the 16th of
March last, it being presumed that such
stock is selected with care, and that it
would not be taken from herds which
arc infected with, the disease mentioned.
Remedy FjR Kicejxo Cows. A
great many remedies have been sug
gested, from time to time, for breaking
heifers, from kicking while being milked.
And now the statement comes that the
best plan is to tie the animal's head up
high. A writer in the New Englnul
Farmer sa3-s he has tried all kinds of
plans to cure his heifer of this bad habit
but finds none so effectual as tying the
head up high, as the animal must lower
her head in order to kick. This is a
very simple remedy and as it islessbar
barious than many plans that have been
suggested aud are practiced, we hope it
may prove all that is claimed for it.
We cannot help renewing our advioe,
in this connection, in regard to a uni
form practice of kind treatment to
milch stock, and especially toward
heifers when breaking them to the pail.
In nine cases out of ten cows get the
habit of kicking from harsh and injuri
ous management and as it is always bet
ter to avoid an evil habit than to con
tract it, and then run the risk of curing
it, so we say care should be taken that
cows do not learn this habit of kicking
from those who have them in charge.
A Touching Incident. There is in
the Hebrew burial service one prayer
which is not read by the officiating min
ister, but by tho son of the deceased,
or, in case there be no son, by somo
orphan in whom the deceased was in
terested. At the services for the late
Baroness Mayer de Rothchild, in Lon
don, this part of the service was taken
by a deaf orphan boy, a pupil in an in
stitution for teaching the deaf to speak.
The baroness was largely instrumental
in founding two such schools. He re
cited the prayer, which proclaims the
"exaltation of God in that world in
which He is to restore the dead to ever
lasting life," with, a yery distinct utter
ance. As he repeated the prayer with
the mournful cadence, into which it is
said the deaf who are taught to speak
naturally fall, this part of the service,
always impressive, was most deeplj felt
in its fervent solemnity.