Image provided by: Oregon City Public Library; Oregon City, OR
About Oregon City enterprise. (Oregon City, Or.) 1871-188? | View Entire Issue (July 5, 1877)
10,. -. 7 i G DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. VOL... 11. OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JULY 5, 1S77. NO. 37. ir i mi f -i o THE ENTERPRISE. A LOCAL NEWSPAPER FOR THE r.ruirr, ltutiumn Man ami Fnill I'irt'le ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY moritiETOs and y c lzih h eh . o Official Paper for Clackamas County. Office: In i:ulrrprl r,iij,Uii;, One door South of Masonic Building, Main Street. Trriun of Nubiter!i(ion : Single Copy, one year, in advance atuyl. Copy, Mix months, in advance 3-' 50 1 60 Terw r AdrrrtUilli;;. Trauslent advertiHeiuents, including ail legal notice. per square of twelve lines, one week $ 2 50 For each subsequent insertion 100 One Column, cue year 120 00 Half Column, one year o 00 Uuartor Column, one year 40 l0 business Card, one square, cue year 12 DO SOCIETY NOTICES OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F. Meets every Thursday Evening, nt. 7 o clock, in Odd Fellows' Hall, Main Street. Members of the Order are Invited to attend. By order of x. o. REBECCA DEGREE LODGE. No. 2, j. v- t.. meets on the Second and yr r Fourth TnftHday Ereninps of each, month, f j K iino cioca, in tne uaa renown' Hall. . Mamberu of the Degree are Invited to' attend. FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4, I. O. O. F.. meets at Odd Fellows' Hall on2 C the First aud Third Tuesday of each mouth. a$? Patriarchs in good standing are invited toy X attend. MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1, A. T. h A. M., holds its regular coinmunU 51 cations on the First ami Third .Saturdays - In each month, at 7 o'clock from the th'v-OV of September to the 20th of March ; and J 1 o'clock from the 20th or March to the ' T 30th of September. Brethren in pood standing are invited to attend. By order of V. M. BUSINESS GAUDS. J. W. NORR1S, Physician :ml Nurgcon OKFICfi AND KEMDEXCE : On Fourth Street, at foot of Cliff Stairwav. tf CHARLES KNIGHT, CANBY. OREGON, lvliytticimi Ini'jri?4'. '"Prescriptions carefully filled at short notice. ja7-tf PAUL BOYCE, M.D., Physician and Misrgcoia, Oheoon Citt, Oreuon. Chronic Diseases and Diseases cf Women anil Children a specialty. OUice Hour day and night; always ready when duty calls. auu2.76-tf DR. JOHN WELCH, D E N T I s rr . OFFICE IN OREGON CITY OREGON. Highest cash price paid for County Orders. JOHNSON & McCOWN, .ATTORNEYS and COUNSELORS AT LAW OREGON CITY, OREGON. Will practice in all the Courts of the Slate. Special attention glveu to cases in the United States Land OtUce at Oregon City. Bapr'72-tf L. T. BARIN, ATTOKXKY AT I, AW, OREGON CITY, OREGON. Will practice in all the Courts of the State, uovl, "TS-tf W. H. HICHFIELD, luMtllbllNltOtl mIuo '1 (t, One door Xorth of Pope's Hail, afAIM HTn OREUU.N CITV, DKKUOX. An assortment of Watches, Jewelry, and ? Setll Thomas' Weieht Clocks, all of which VVN ars warranted to be as represented. t&iiZS w uepairing done ou short notice; and thankful for past patronage. 'mI luitl lor County Orler. JOHN M. BACON, DIALER IX tlS bUUKS, STAilOWliKY, PICTURE FRAMES. MOILDISG3 AND MISCEL LANEOUS GOODS, fit M KM ntl)E TO ItI It. Orkoom Cm, Obeoon. ITil the Post Office, Main Street, west sioe. novl. '75-tf & J. R. GOLDSMITH, Collector and Noliciior. POIITLAND, OKEGOX. G"Btst of Teferenccs given. d23-"77 HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL, Hubs, Spokes, Rims, OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK. SOIlTIIItl P TIIOMl'SOX, mu31.'76-tf Portland, Oregon. J. H. SHEPARD, BOOT A3TI SHOE STOKK, One door North of Ackenuan Bros, fc" Boots and Shoes made and repaired as cheap as tha cheapest. novl. '73 tf MILLER, CHURCH & CO. PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT. At all times, at the OREGON CITY MILLS, And have on band FEED and FLOUR to sell, at market rate. Parties desiring Feed must furnish novl-2 tf A. C. WALLING'S Pioneer J5ook ISiiiclery Pittook's Building, cor. of Stark and Front Sta., roilTJLAXn, OKEGOX. BLANK BOOKS BULED AND BOUND TO ANY desired pattern. Music BoTks. Magazines, wapapers. etc., b. und in every variety of stvle known to the trade. Orders from the country promptly attended to. novl, '75-tf OREGON CITY BREWERY. HUMIIEI .fc 3rA.II:EIt, .1fjt,in.a P"6"" the above Brewerr, fCY '"" inform the public that tbey fei.3g) 4aUty pMed U B'ctur ". OF LAGER BEER tt"u".S'ab,fln,J nywhere in "the State, .uucuea and promptly filled. 1 MY MIES LOVE. A RONDEAU. O ruby lips, whose Rtaile has stolen my soul. And drawn from it all love but love of you Speak kindred longing, absolute and whole. Swear faith supremely true O ruby lips ! O southern eyes, whose light baB lit my heart, And kind lei it to warm and wild desire Glow with a kindred passion, for your part, Flame with a kindred fire. O southern eyes ! O my life's love ! Eyes, lip, hand, heart and soul Come to me, satibfy me, seal me yours. Each part is sweet, but ouly lu love's whole Love's final life endures. O iuy life's love. Townseml Slayer, in tinsleys .Vayarinr. M X Y M EM U I ES . Swiftly wound the silent river Where the gras grew deep, Thronsth the mj-htic bhade and silence That the wooUluuds keei) ; Underneath the chestnut strayiug (Trembling fans o'erheaii). With the creamy Lljssoms playing. How my bright hours sped ! As a dreaiu when one awaketh Seems to me that dsy. Chestnut blosso;ns, sliding river, Fairyland of May 1 City walls close in behind me. Summer joys are o'er ; Where the sunshine used t'j find me I shall stray no more. Other hands will pull the blo:-S'jms, Cones of piuk and white ; Mine are woru with daily labr Tired from morn till iiibt. Still I muse, but not in sadness. On those by gone days; Here my Autumn hath its gladness Worth a thou -aud Mays 1 from the Leisure Hour. LITTLE BOBBY. A SKETCH IN PARIS. "Well, sir, I am glad to meet you here," said Mr. ArmsteaJ. 'Ifa, ha! thanks, thanks, thanks" very ranch, thanks," muttered Mr. Airej in reply. Mr. Airey had but lately ar rived in Paris from Bond street, and Mr. Armstead from I3eacon street. The Londoner had run against the Bosto ciau at the corner of the Bno dela Paix. "Are you going my way ?"' asked Mr. Airey, lightly. "1 am at your service, sir," said Mr. Armstead, with a courteous motion of the hand. As they moved along the broad pavement, the Englishman enter tained Lis friend with a thousand re marks on men and things. Paris always loosed hi tongue; for while he tasted with delight the gaiety and sparkle of the place, ho found at the same time much solid food for the moralist. When he was moralizing, he felt that he was doisg hi3 duty. And so with sense gratified and conscience in repose, a pleasant sun above him, and a good lis tener by Jus ude, the sprightly gentle man would comment for hours on the frivolity of Parisians. When ho had brought to uu end a nimble discourse on 'he probable haunts and customs of a passing petltyras, he found that for the moment he was without another subject on which to dilate. So turning to-his companion, like an amiable social in quisitor, he asked, "Now, what do you lind to do with yourself in Paris ?"' Mr. Armstead, whose share in the conversation had consisted of occasional solemn bows -of acknowledment, now coughed, meditated for some moments, and then answered slowly and thonght- Inny, "Well. 1 comedown town ard walk around." "But surely," cried the other, "for a man of your active habits: why, my dear Colonel Armstead, I " "Pardon me for interrupting you, but drop the Colonel, if you idease." Mr. Airey was vastly astonished. "I beg your pardon I beg your pardon," he said, "but surely why 1 always thought that yon Americans were par ticularly fond of military titles." "Well, sir, wo have had some pretty serious killing lately, and some of us do not take quite so humorous a iew of the profession as we did when it was confined to Indians and Mexicans." "But still it is the custom in England and everywhere for a man who has served to keep his title. And you, who were distinguished you surprise me, you surprise me very much!" Mr. Armstead acknowledged the com pliment by bending his head and slight ly waving his right hand. Aftera pause, during which his companion watched him with much curiosity, he said, "It was found that there was a certain awk wardness in sending out your sujierior ofllcer for a bag of nails or a two-cent stamp." Mr. Airey felt that like a second Co lumbus, he had discovered a new Amer ica. This novel and interesting speci men must be drawn out, to be afterwards described and commented upon at all his clubs. lie assumed an insinuating manner as he asked the leading question, "How do you like Paris ?' Mr. Armstead took time to reply. "I like it," he said; "but I fear there is a little too much of the New Englander in my composition." "And a capital good thing, too," ob served the other, encouragingly. "The Pilgrim Fathers would not have appeared to advantage on the Boule vards." "Certainly not. And yet your coun trymen are, as a rule are they not? devoted to Taris. You know, of course, the saying. 'Good Americans, when they di'e go to Paris,' eh?" The Bostonian bowed gravely at the quotation. "Some like it," he said, and added profoundly, after a pause, "The American in Paris is too often a Paris ian hampered by morality." The Englishman would doubtless have commented at some length on this remark; but hi3 eye was at the moment caught by something which would servo him even better for a text. Above a large window, which was modestly cov ered by musl:n enrtains, appeared the name and title of Madame Lalonette, ex premiere do M . Over the name of the gentleman who had had the honor of employing Madame Lalonette, a piece of blank paper was carefully pasted. "Look! look!" cried Mr. Airey, in great excitement; "just look at the wo man's ingenuity. She must have been threatened with legal proceedings, don't you see ? So she sticks up that paper, which blots out the cause of offense, while it catches every eye and appeals to every imagination. 'Sophie, my child,' says one woman, 'of whom was this Madame Lalonette the premiere?' 'For me I cannot conceive,' says the other; 'but Madame de Corsaye is sure to know.' So they rush off to a third lady, and the milliner is advertised all over Paris by a single square of blank paper. It is magnilicenti" Here Mr. Airey paused for breath, and was straightway thrilled by the de lightful consciousness of having been unusually brilliant. "I know it," said Mr. Armstead, "M. Blank is an excruciating mystery to woman, like the veiled prophet of Kho rassan." "Ha, ha! capital, capital! and, by Jove, she is a clever woman! Just look at that other dodgo!" "I have observed it," said the Ameri can. The large window of the ingen ious artiste was draped with muslin, as if the mysteries of la mode were sacred as those of the Bona Dea; but at one side of the building was placed a tall sheet of looking-glass, some two feet wide. While the two friends were gaze ing at the temple of fashion, the one bubbled over with remarks on the petty ingenuity of French women, the other watched them in silence a3 they passed that looking-glass. He remembered a method of snaring birds by like means, and smiled grimly. One lady just touched her bonnet in front, another her braids behind. One stopped and deliberately arranged the lace at the throat, another glanced hurriedly at the glass and then darted across the road in mute defiance of the observer. Even a bonnetless working-girl caught a look.as she slipped back to her work; and a large nurse, whoso beauty was no more than health and amiability, shifted her small burden tenderly, while she had some fingers on the crisp border, of her cap. The two gentlemen were still staring across the street, when a tiny brougham drove quickly up to the veiled window. ;'Who is she? Who can she be?" cried Mr. Airey, and added in a breath, " Upon my word, remarkably pretty. One can see in a moment the French woman of the world grace, elegance, wit. " "It is my wife," said Mr. Armstead, drily. The Englishman was overwhelmed with confusion: "I beg your pardon I beg your pardon; I had no idea, I " "Won't you allow me the pleasure of presenting you to Mrs. Armstead?"' "Thanks, thanks; delighted, I'm sure. But do you think we may go in two men, you know?" "I am not afraid for myself," said the Bostonian. The front room of Madame Lalonette was tenanted only by gowns, erect upon wire frames. "Dress-extenders' eh?" said Mr. Airey. "Average women," observed Mr. Armstead; but there was a twinkle in hi3 eye which softened the severity of his remark. From an inner apartment, which was seen through open folding-doors, came the rattle of two shrill French voices, one voluble in the language of the country, tho other almost equally effective in a mixture of French and fantastic English. They were the voices of Madame Lalonette and of "Mees," so called in the estab lishment in recognition of her almost miraculous knowledge of our barbarous language. Tho double stream of per suasion, declamation and exclamation was occasionally interrupted by a third voice, high but not loud, and with a very pleasant pronunciation of French. Evidently the lady was not yet satisfied, for her tone was a little pathetic. Mr. Airey hung back in alarm; but Mr. Armstead. courteously waving him for ward, stalked through the open doors with the unruffled calm of a red Indian. "Prudence," he said, "will you permit me to present to you my friend, Mr. Airey?" "I am afraid. I really am awfnllv afraid that I am intruding here," said tho polite Lnglisliman. "Why, no," said tho lady, with a slight delay on each word to emphasize ner negative; ana sue aaaea, you can help me to choose a winter jacket. Do you like that?" and she pointed to a garment, which was floating up and down the room on a most elegant young person, who had risen in life by tho re markable fall in her back. "Charming, charming! upon my word, exceedingly pretty: "Which do you mean?" asked the' lady, demurely. Mr. Airey was de lighted. These little American women have so much self-possession and so much spirit. They are so friendly with out being fast. His heart warmed to her. as it does to all pretty women. He enjoys their society, as ho delights in Paris. In their presence he feels him self kindled to wit; when they are gone ho will moralize on them by the hour He is ever ready "to break a compari son or two" on a charming lady. "It must be a strange life," he observed. lowering his voice, "this sweeping up and down and bending of the body un der other people s jackets. "My figure i3 my fortune," remarked Mr. Armstead, who was standing very upright by his wife, and staring at the gliding garment. "Why it must bo delightful .'"exclaim ed Mrs. Armstead. "Only fancy being always sure to have on the very latest thing!" . , "f!nn.l crracious! how frivolous!" thousrht Mr. Airey. "It is evident that I must go to my banker's," said the lady's husband, "Shall I have the pleasure of your com pany, sir, or do you remain among the iacVpta?" The lady looked an invitation prettily. tily. ,. "How charming!" thought Mr. Airey; aud he sail, "I think, if Mrs. Arm stead will allow me, I will stop and put her into her carriage." The lady smiled, and her husband stalked off alone to his banker. The Englishman now bloomed into talk with so much sprightliness and vivacity, that Madame 1 Lalonette was l-educed to a fixed smile of appreciation, and Mees could no longer display Lor ; unique power of language. Mrs. Armstead rewarded her cavalier with occasional smiles and nods, while she gave her undivided at tention to the business before her. She liked a prattle at her ear, and had the rare gift of seeming to understand it. Having finally decided how the jacket was to be cut, how it was to be deco rated and what it was to cost, she' be came light-hearted, and for conversa tion's sake began to babble of her doubts. She wondered if she had chosen right. Did he think that the shape would go wil the latest gowns? Was it too heavy 'f'Vas it not too light? Would it be very becoming? To all these questions she waited for no ans wer; but stepped daintily into her brougham. Then she gave the gentle man some fingers, beautifully gloved, through tho window, and said smiling, "I have half a mind to go back and countermand it. Would you bo so good as to tell me the time. Thank you so much. How late! And I have for gotten little Bobby's medicine again. I guess I won't go back about the jacket. Home!" Thereupon she was swept away, leaving Mr. Airey with his hat in his hand, llo stood holding his hat and staring after the carriage, until a fat French lady of fashion pushed him off the pavement, while her little darl ing of a dog ran between his legs. Having unwound himself from the ani mals chain, and murmured an apology to its owner, Mr. Airey put on his hat and heaved a sigh. "I have forgotten little Bobby's medicine again!" he re peated, as ho moved away. "And they talk of the frivolty of French women! Poor little Bobby!" This moralist has a tender heart, aud delights to exercise it. Pathetic were the pictures he con jured up of the little innocent. He thought of Tiny Tim and little Paul Dombey. He fancied the sick child lying like a faded flower on his small bed, and lisping blessings on his moth er, whose whole mind was concentrated on the choice of a winter jacket. She had forgotten the medicine again! How often had she forgotten it? Perhaps for months that blighted chtld had leen sighing for the lively tonic, or the dark brown codliver oil, but tho hand that should have administered the draught, whilst its fellow smoothed the pillow of the sufferer, was poising bonnets or fin gering fringes. Perhaps at that very moment poor little Bobby was lookiner his last look into his mother's eyes and whispering, ".Never mind, motuev. it s too late. I shan't want the physic now. Yon may tako it all yourself." "But this is weakness," eaid Mr. Airey to himself, as he found the tears in his eyes. He went home like a man bent on discharging a duy. and springing light as a French thinker from the par ticular to tho general, wrote in his diary, "American women have even less feeling than Parisian." A week passed, and Mr. Airey had not called upon his Boston, acquaint ances. It was no small sacrifice. Had any one ever told him that he was in love with a married woman, his neatly arranged hair would have risen and be trayed the thin places. Nevertheless, ou some of those platforms which in countless number lie between the abyss of love and the height of sublime indif ference, the estimable gentleman moved with ease and grace. The pleasure which he felt in the society of a charming wo man was, to some extent, unlike that which he derived from the.conversation of his maiden aunt or his former tutor. The unlike element, whatever it ruay be, never troubled his conscience; but when he was forced to disapprove of an attractive woman, he manfully resisted his inclination for her company. He resisted his tendency to call upon the Armsteads for a full week. "Unmoth ered mothered heartless, pitiless!" he frequently repeated to himself, recall ing the words of Telemachus, and thereby raising himself to a heroic ele vation. Yet ho was decidedly bored. He had walked daily on the Boulevard des Capucines, the Rue de la Paix, the Eue de Rivoliand the Champs Elysees. He had stared into all tho chocolate shops, and gaped at tie allegorical works of liubens in the Louvre. He had moralized before the ruins of the Tuileries, and had scanned with appro val that costly triumph of indigestible gingerbread, distant cousin of our own Albert Memorial, the new Opera House, He had laughed under protest at M. Lecocq's last opera, and stared with blank amazement at the newest social problem of M. Dumas a problem on tho immediate solution of which tho ex istence of society evidently depended, while he and the majority of mankind had been completely ignorant of its ex istence. Mr. Airey was bored; but still he would not yield. It is strange, if we consider his fixed determination, that he remembered the Armsteads' number so clearly; yet more strange that on the eighth day after their former meeting he had his hand on the bell of their apartment. Perhaps he went to moralize, perhaps to offer medicine. The door was opened by a French maid, who was crying in a most becoming fashion. The visitor's imagination was aroused. "Is it Bobby?" he gasped. She nodded prettily. She could not speak for weeping. She led the way into the first room; and after a momeot't hesitation he followed her. The sight which he beheld was indeed surprising. On the table stood a bottle of physic, and by it the most delicate of sweet breads un tasted. Mr. Armstead, his somewhat rugged face softened by emo tion, was bending like a breach-loader with the charge withdrawn, over a com fortable sofa. Opposite to him was his wife, who had sunk upon the floor, and with tears pouring down her cheeks was soothing the little sufferer. The little sufferer! Between husband and wife, propped by the softest pillows, draped by the softest shawls, important and deeply conscious of hi3 importance, reclined the prince of pugs. Mr. Arm stead came forward. "How do you do, sir?" he said, "I hoped that you were the physician. Have you any acquaint COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY, ance with the maladies of dogs?" "None, whatever," said Mr. Airey, tartly; "and, indeed, I am glad to see that you can interest yourself in a dog at such a mo ment." "At such a moment." repeated the other, slowly. "When little Bob by," began the Englishman, visibly af fected. "Why, this is little Bobby." At the sound of hi3 name, uttered in that measured tone which he knew so well, the sufferer turned a plaintiff eyo upon the intruder. "Behold how the great minded suffer," lie seemed to say. His skin was so loose, that it would have been well had an accomplished workwoman gathered it in at his waist. His coat was starry, and bis tail, that sign of his nobility, uncurled. The lines about his ebon visage were deep ened by illness. The face told of suf fering, but of a certain pride in the in terest which it excited. The large dark eye was turned upon Mr. Airey, but awoke no pity in his breast. That he should have expended a whole week's sentiment upon a sick dog! As well sit down in the ditch with tbo great Mr. Sterne to lament over a dead donkey. "I think I had better go," said the mor alist, with a glance at Mrs. Armstead. "I am afraid that my wife is not equal to conversation at present. I trust that we shall have tho pleasure of seeing you under happier circumstances." "Ah, thanks, I'm sure, ah," murmured the visitor, and he glanced again at the lady. She was wholly unconscious of his presence. She was holding the limp right hand of the patient in her own, aud was bathing it with her tears. Mr. Airey departed abruptly. The nex morning, as the moralist was toying with his breakfast, and meditat ing fitfully on the New England charac ter, a curious note was brought to him. It was shaped like a fan. He opened it with a sniff of scorn. "Another novel ty!" he exclaimed testily. "Our mus tard pots are made like beer-jugs; we shall soon have beer-jugs in the shape of baths, and baths disguised as hansom cabs. He spread out the sham fan, and read the nimble-pointed characters: "Dear Mr. Airey: How you must have wondered at my strange conduct yesterday! I was in the deepest de spair, and quite unfit to receive any bndif. To-day all looks bright again. Tho dear doctor came soon after you left. He is reckoned very clever, and attends the dogs of tho best people in Paris of all parties. The favorite hound of the Due d'Aumerle. la Marquise de Baldefee's famous spaniels (of course you remember M. Casimir's brilliant mot,) and M. Baretta's new voodle Fra ternite, are among his patients. He says that our little Bobby has no seri ous malady, but recommends a warmer climate. So we start at once for the South, aud shall winter at Nice. I should prefer the Nile, but hear that the boats are so irritating for dogs. Will you do me a great favor, and send me some cleansing tablets when you go back to London? I would not trouble you, but they are invaluable for Bob by's skin. My husband is in despair at having to leave without returning your visit. Perhaps we may meet somewhere in the South. "Very cordially yours, "Prudence Armstead." "I buy tablets for that cur!" cried Mr. Airey. "Well, I suppose I shall," he added. He could eat no more break fast. He took down his diary, and wrote in it with the air of one who ful fills an important duty "American wo men are absurdly over-sensitive." Dlacktrond's Magazine. A New Process in Sugjar Maying. It is stated that a new process for clarifying cane juice without tho U3e of lime has been successfully tried by Mr. Eastes, tho inventor, at the mill of Mr. Dart, of Indooroopilly, in Queensland. The principles of the process have not yet been divulged. The canes are, how ever, ground in the usual manner, and the juice allowed to run in tho clari ti ers; here Mr. Eastes' operations com mence, tho invention consisting iu the treatment of the cane juice with certain chemicals which materially alter the color and viscosity of tho liquor, the in crease of the quantity of molasses at tendant upon the use of lime being avoided. At the trials the freedom of the liquor from gltitinous matter was particularly noticed, tho liquor feeling quite warm to tho hand. "When the liquor ran from the clarifying box to the cleaning battc-ry, it boiled with a clear white foam upon it, and scarcely any skimming tools place. Less steam was needed for boiling in tho vacuum pan. In a report given by the Queens lander it is stated that a perfect crystal of large size was formed, and that" had there been sufficient liquor to fill the pan the crystals would have been of an unu sually large size. The curing was soon disposed of, tho liquor not molasses running away to the tank after leaving a basket of 1,788 pounds of beautiful clear white sugar perfectly dry in three minutes. It is also stated that tho green tinge of the sugar as ordinarily made from the same cane is entirely removed. The density of the liquor was ten deg. Beaurue. It has been suggested that tho clarifying agent is hypochlorite of sulphur, but Mr. Eastes asserts it to be perfectly innocuous, and that it might be partaken of in the form in which it is employed; it is also stated that there is no probability of the sugar deliquesc ing. One of the most important points is that the liquor running from the vacuum pans as a vehicle for the sugar is not molasses, but purely crystal lizable liquor, which requires no further clari fication, andean be returned, afte"r heat ing, to the pau, where it is entirely con verted into sugar equal to the first, and not, according to the Queenslandcr, a particle of molasses made. If the re ports upon this process are true and at present we have no reason to doubt them Mr. Eastes' invention is one which will largely revolutionize the manufacture of sugar. Not many women are blacksmiths, but most of them can "shoo" a hen. f The Sweet Potato. The value of this crop is scarcely ap preciated. On light lands it is one of the surest and most profitable crops that can be grown. Lands of that descrip tion which will produce fifteen bushels of corn, may besafely counted ou for a hundred bushels of potatoes, and the same manuring which would increase the crop of corn on such lands to twenty-five bushela would secure a crop of two hundred bushels of potatoes. We havo known crops in East Alabama which were said to amount to four hun dred bushels, grown on lands which would not, with similar manuring and cultivation, have produced nioro than twenty-five bushels of corn. It would not be extravagant to estimate an aver ago production of ten bushels of pota toes for one of corn, with tho same at tention bestowed on the two crops. Since the first day of last October sweet potatoes have sold in the Montgomery market at an average price of seventy five cents a bushel, and allowing just half the difference above estimated, say five bushels of potatoes to one of corn, this would be an equivalent to $3.75 per bushel for corn. Estimating the feed ing value of the potato as one-third that of corn, an acre of the former would be worth about as much as two acres of the latter. Another recommendation of the pota to is that instead of exhausting, it is a renovator of the soil. The vines, which are returned to the soil, constitutes nine-tenths of the crop, and as fully ninety-five per cent, of the product is derived from the atmosphere, it is man ifest that the potato crop returns many fold more to the soil than is removed in the roots. Every one who has tried it knows that a crop of any sort grown af ter potatoes is much improved by it. We have known the same piece of land cultivated for ten year3 in potatoes without any perceptible diminution in the crop. For this reason it is one of the best crops that can be grown in orchards. For this purpose it has the double advantage of enriching the soil and furnishing good feed to hogs, which in rooting after the potatoes left in the ground, subsoil the land and de stroy any grubs that prey upon the fruit trees. Besides the excellent and abundant food which it supplies to the tble, the potato is an economical feed for stock of every description. Hogs, cows and horses are all fond of them, and steamed, they are not only perfectly wholesome but nutritious. This is the season for startinor a crop, and we bespeak for them a liberal share of the farmer's attention. Southern Plantation. Ploughing or Burning. The time was when it was thought that every thing on the top of the ground should be ploughed under, and that a crop of weeds, grass and dilapidated cornstnlks would materially benefit the soil. That they possess some value is an admitted fact, and if turned under in the fall season, so that they will rot by spring, are of some advantage to the soil; but should they remain until spring they should be burned. The insect world is possessed with wonderful powers of multiplication, and we know of no method equal to good burning to destroy them. In the early settlement of the country, when the prairies were burned regularly every year, many insects now common and injurious were unknown. We think we can in a very great meas ure attribute thejr absence to these fires. Lands thus cleared are more easily cul tivated than those not so treated. Many noxious seeds are destroyed and farm implements do their work much more perfectly than when they aro dragging through great masses of weeds and grass. These considerations induce' us to advise the burning over of fields be fore plowing, and we believe all doing so will be pleased with tho experiment. Journal of Agriculture. Weaning Colts. A Vermont farmer says he weaned a last spring colt in the following manner: I fed grain or meal to the mare when the colt was with her. The colt soon learned to eat meal with the dam. After he has been taught to eat with the mare he will eat as readily when he is removed from her. I put my colt in a stable where he could have plenty of exercise in a large yard; fed u: rn. 1 ji 1 " .. , ... liim iiu uuyunu uran mixea witn miiK, which I soon taught him to drink with out the bran. I weaned him from the mare when he was three months old ; he seemed contented, aud I think did as well as though he had run with the mare two months lonsrer. It is much better for the mare, and more conve nient if one wants to use her, as most people do in the country, while the colt is witn ner. inis way of weaning colts is very convenient, and one can feed milk at such times as seem judicious, substituting grain or shorts for milk at any reasonable time. Mb. King knew relatives who left farms and went to town, some of them with families of children, and they suf fered by the change, lost much of their peace of mind, their happiness. He likes to see the father spending his de clining years upon the homestead, where his children and grandchildren my come back to visit him. Western .Aeo York Farmers' Club. Mr. Henry C. Blair says the United States is in exactly the same position Turkey is. This may all be so. But it's still safe in tho rural districts of this country for a- Christian young man to take his girl home from singing school at 10 p. it. without having her ears cut off by a Bashi-Bazonk, and that's more than can be said of Turkey. Com. Adv. Twenty girls living in Utica have been arrested for blowing horns liefore the door of a new married couple. The Judge spoke of it as "the shockibgest kind of depraved depravity." Even if a boy is always whistling, "I want to be an angel," it is just as well to keep the preserved pears on the top shelf of the pantry. The Morulas After Moving. Well, I do believe FU never move again as long as I live. Where is that fifth joint of stovepipe? I knowitcani6, for I put it in tho wagon myself. We'll have to get a border for that back bedroom carpet, and then it will be as much as ever if it will be big enough. But where the dueeo did you put the knives? I can find everything but a knife. Well, I think we ought to be thank ful that it didn't rain. I didn't care so that the things didn't get wet. It's hard work, but we're going to look real nice when we get fixed up. Did you notice those people that moved in next door? Next time I'd get a man that wouldn't break every thing to pieoes that he touched. I told you to carry that mirror in your hands. You might havo known how 'twould be. I just felt real lonesome when I went back to look at the old house. I do hope tho-io new people will treat the old cat well. Don't fret; you'll find it after a v. hile. We always think we've lost something, and it always turns up when v e come to unpack. Oh, that's just liko pa. He jammed my slipper in the cake box. What did you dream last night? Go round "and order some coal now the first thirg you do. And have the gas turned on, too. I'm not going to work by tallow candles another night. Do hunt up the castors to the bed stead. Let's get one room furnished anyway. Well, of all the dirty people I ever saw! I'd be ashamed to leavo a house in such a condition! Ugh! Ma, see these two bottles I found in the closet! "Bloom of Youth," and "Harrington's Hair Dye!" ."Throw the nasty things away. I knew that wo man used hair dye by the back of her head! Stop! You may save the dye." Errors in Marriage. Many people think they have made a mistake in mar riage, whu their mistake is only in their behavior since they were married Good husbands make good wives, and good wives make good husbands; and the scolding and intemperate, or slat ternly partner often has bimelf to blame for the misery that cloud the life and desolates the home. Multi tudes wlio feel that their marriaere was a mistake and who make their existence a life-long miry. might, by a little p.elf-deninl. and patience, and forbear ance, and trentleness. the old-time courtesy, make thir horn' brighten like the gat"8 of Eden, and bnng back again the old love that ble"ed the happy rrnhl&n rJnvs (mne 1)V. SnPPOSO the wife does not know quite a much as yon do; well, you snowed your very great jung ment when you thought her chief omrai rr fin lirmnnnrl . Or. if VOUr hus- band is not the most wonderful man in the world, it simply illustrates the wit and wisdom of the young woman who once thought he was, and could not be convinced to the contrary. So, per haps, you are not so unevenly mated after all; and if one has had better op portunities since marriage, then of course tuat one snouid teacu ana cuiu- rof-A nn1 n C mi rner a thfl other, and SO both journey on together. Hall's Health Journal. "The wide-spread-fallacy that, if per sons are able to live without work, it is their right and privilege to lead an in active life, is an error as fatal in its ef fects on health as it is fallacious in principle. Men of light occupations, and women whoso circumstances do not compel them to work, a great majority of whom neglect physical exercise, thereby become so deficient in muscu lar development as to be weak, delicate, and sickly ever the prey to nervous ness, dyspepsia and that long train of chronic diseases that afflict the human race. "Wo pity their condition, because, for the most part, the evils they suffer are brought on by ignorance of the laws of their being. To place our selves on good terms with such, we will not now blame them for what, per haps, might be called culpable ignor ance, but good-naturedly address our selves to the task of removing from their minds the veil ..of ignorance that has caused all the ills which scourge them." Phrenological Jotrnal. Social Life. Any great movement for good in social life begins at home. It begins with fathers and mothers. The first and highest duty is to make home cheerful and attractive. Husband and wife must do this for each other. Without this their mutual affection will, dry up. If they have children, it is their duty to make home sweet and precious to them. Children with good homes seldom go to the bad. Girls who have learned to trust their mother, in their whole round of thought, sel dom get talked about. Boys who are made to feel the strength of a father's and the tenderness of a mother's love, seldom run wild. Their natural love of fun and mischief does not bind them over to the devil's service. Pleasant, cheerful and bright homes, then, are the great demand. They may be poor, but they can still be pleasant and at tractive and good. The heart and spirit are more than furniture and dwelling. As soon as the publishers of religious weeklies discontinued soliciting sub scribers for chromos, and throwing in their publications as an inducement to subscribe, the circulation of their pa pers Ml off fifty per cent. This speaks well for th art taste of American peo ple. Korriklcncn Herald. My experience in rdantinc p.nm ha. been that more can be raised per acre wnere tnere is but ono stalk in the hill than where there were six; better two than five: three than fonr? thai: ia thr stalks per hill give the beat yield. jrraine f armer. I i ' i V - r ' I i I !