I
DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON.
VOL. 11.
OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JULY 19, 1877.
NO. 39.
THE ENTERPRISE.
A LOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOR T H
t'ltriuer, IIolue Mini mill I'uiuil.t Cirri
ISSCED EVERY THURSDAY
PROHBrETOR AND PCULIRIIKK.
Official Paper for Clackamas County.
Onit-e: lit Eutrrpriwe Uuiltliiis;.
Oue Jwr Stuth 01" Masonic Building, Main Street.
IVruii or.Sukwriptlun:
Single Copy, oue year, iu advance Si 50
SiukU Copy, Klx uioutiia, in advance -. 1 50
lrni of Ailtrrtioluv:
Transient advertisements, including all leal
notices, per square of twelve lines, oue
week 2 30
Tor aoh subsequent msertiuu 100
Oo Column, oue year 120 00
Half Column, one year k CO 00
Ouarter Column, one year 40 00
Business Card, one square, cue year l'J 00
SOCIETY NOTICES.
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F.
Meet every Thursday Evening, at
7S4 o'clock, in Odd 1'ellowB' Hall,
Main Street. Members of the Order aoi-''
iu renown uau, , -v
ar invited to atteud.
Ey order of
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2,
I. O. O. r., meets on the Second and
Fourth Tuewlay Evenings of each month,
at 7) o'clock, in the Odd Fellows' Hall.
Members of the Degree are invited to'
3i
atteud.
FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4,
I. O. O. V., meet at Odd Fellows' Hall on
the First and Third Tuesday of each month.
Patriarchs iu good standing are invited to
attend.
MULTNOMAH LODGE, No
1,
A. F. Il A. M., holds its regular couitiiuni- a
; cations on the First and Third Saturdays, j
': In each itintith at 7 nVlilr finm Mia will. V'
of September to the '20th or March ; and
; 7 H o'clock from the 'Joth of March to the
'JOth of September. Urethreu in M'od standing are
; Invited to attend. Ry order of W. M.
BUSINESS CARDS.
J. W. NORRIS,
l'li.vttician find .Surgeon.
OFFK'E AND KEoIPfcSCE :
Ou Fourth Slreet. at foot of CI iff Stairway. tf
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CAN BY. OREO ON.
lIiyieiau and Druggist.
K"Prescripti(ns carefully filled ut short notice.
j7-tt
PAUL DOYCE, M. D.,
1'li.ysiciau aul Surgeon.
Obuc.on City, Okthon.
Chrouto Diaearies and Uiteastii i.f Women and
Children a specialty.
Office Hours day and night; always readv wlun
duty calls. niiu'J5,"'7rt-tf
DR. JOHN WELCH,
DEXTIST.cig
OFFICE IN OREGON CITY,; OREGON.
Highest cash price paid for Counly Order.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
ATTORNEYS aud COUNSELORS AT LAW
OREGON CICY, OREGON.
Will practice in all the Courts of the Slate.
' Special attention given to eases in the Tinted
btatus Land Otlice at Oregon City. 3apr'7-2-tf
L. T. BARIN,
ATTOKXKY AT I,
OREGON ,CITY, OREGON'.
Will practice in all the Courts of the State,
uuvl, '7j-tf
W. H. HICHFIELD,
. UMtuhlUhtMl Nlnee
One dr North of Pope's Hall,
MUX ST., UKKUO.Y fITV, OHKtiOX.
An assortment or Watches, Jewelry, and
Seth Thomas' Weight Clocks, all or which
, w represemeu. G5
Kepalrlng done on sliort notice; andthauktiil
; fur past patrouage.
? VhhU lor County Orders.
JOHN M. BACON,
I BOOKS, STATIONERY,
PICTURE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MISCEL
LANEOUS GOODS.
l'K tni:. .MADE TO OltUKIt.
Orkgon Cm, Ohcuon.
"At the Post Office, Main Street, west side.
novl. '75-tf
i
J. R. GOLDSMITH,
Collector. and Solicitor.
PORTLAND, OREGON.
i K7Be8t of references given. vlt e23-'77
I HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL,
f Hubs, Spokes, Kims,
OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK.
XOHTIIKI l
mar31,'70-tf
THOMlK(t,
Portland, Oniron.
J. H. SHEPARD,
boot axi siioi:stoiu;
One door North of Ackerman Bros.
aBoota and Shoes made and repaired a cljtv
' as th cheapest. novl, '73-tr
MILLER, CHURCH & CO.
: PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT.
At all times, at the '
t OREGON CITY MILLS,
i And have on band FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
S market rates. Parties desiriug Feed must furnish
i aeka. - novia tf
i aT c.1ti7l1ncts
I Vionoer ISook ISimlory
I BuildiDg. cor. of Stark and Front Sts..
I'OKTLIXD, OICi:.O.V.
f HVXK BclOES RULED AND BOUND TO ANY
I Jldeaired pattern. Music Bocks. Magazines,
kn-P?'!Lt,0 too in evenr variety of style
USh ?he trde- rJers the country
lOREGON CITY BREWERY.
V wiabM to infnrm .... L.rr.7"."
'iahaa to iirZ"?. Brewer y.
now . l'uu.uc they are
lallty mnuracture
iager beer
te.V0Ucnened .r. in 'the State
wuiuea and promptly tilled.
'
i
4
cm
nARWIMMM IX MORALS.
High instincts, dim previsions, sacred fears,
Whence issuing? Are they but the brains a massed,
Tradition shapings of a barbarous past.
Remodeled ever by the younger years,
Mixed with fresh clay, and Vneaded with new
tear6?
No more ? The dead chief's uhost a shadow cast
Across a roving clan, and thence at last
Comes Clod, who iu the sortl His law nprears ?
It this the whole? Has not the Future powers
To match the I'ust attractions, pulsings, tides.
And voices for purged ears ? Shall our light
The glow of ancient sunsets and lost hours?
Advance no banners up heaven's eastern sides ?
Treuiblt s the margin with no portent bright?
The JnTfr Lnfe, by Edward Dowdtn.
i i.oivkks uii.1, i:lo AU.4I.V.
The dreariest road that ever wound between
Steep mountains, with their gorges dark and deep.
At last will share the plain, and, lo ! a scene
Of peaceful rest will lull each fear to sleep-. .
Then wait, and let your heart still sing,
Though every hour new dangers bring ; .
The longest day must end at last.
And joy can smile o'er sorrows past !
The darkest hour of nigut, when not a star
Is seen to ive one ray of promise bright.
Will end at last In joyous morn, and far
o'er hill and dale the sun will send his light.
Then wait, nor lose all hope of dawn
" Because the hours drag slowly on ;
The darkest night still brings the glow
Of rosy morn o'er every woe !
The coldest day that Winter e'er can bring.
With sleet, and fuow. and ice to swell his train.
Must yield at last to balmy smiles of Spring.
And all the earth with flowers will bloom again.
Then wait, nor sigh midst falling snow
For summer's warmth and summer's glow ;
The days will flit, and, sweetly blest.
Fair spring will smile on winter's breast !
WEDDED TO INSANITY.
A corridor at tlie end of one wing of
a large raniuling house, a barred win
dow, and a closed door. In the passage
a fair-haired girl with the light of in
describable pity in her dove-like eves,
kneeling upon the boards, and pushing
biscuits and sweetmeats underneath the
ill-fitting door, which disappeared as
fast as they were placed there, showing
that there were human hands to seize
them on the other side. Within, an
other girl as young as the lirst not
twenty, certainly groveling on the
lloor like a wild boast, with dark dis
heveled hair almost hiding the spark of
insanity that desecrated her glorious
eyes, and devouring the precious mor
sels that her visitant placed within her
reach with the avidity of a hungry child.
The room in which she crouched was
not comfortless, but had evidently been
prepared for tho reception of such in
mates, and the carefully guarded win
dow and cushioned walls showed that
the mansion in which it was situated
was occupied by one who made it the
business of his life to receive such un
fortunates into his professional care.
Tn plain words, a private lunatic asy
lum. "My poor Leah!"' whisiered the fair
liaired girl out side, "do you know that
I am here, and that I love j'ou?"
The soft clear voice was not unheard,
for Lea!) raised her head for a moment,
and sat listening, with the dark cloud
of tangled hair thrown back from the
low forehead and deeply-shaded eye
brows. Uut the look of attention passed
away almost as rapidly as it had come,
and in another moment her head was
down again on the floor, and tho softly
set lips, that seemed made only to shape
love's whispers, murmured stupidly and
hungrily: "More, more!"
"I am going now," said tlie soft voice
again, "but I will come and see you
this evening, with the nurse. Do you
hear? Do you understand?"
There was nothing but an inarticulate
murmur in reply, though she listened
in vain; and tho fair-haired girl rose
with a sigh from her knees, and passed
from the desolate corridor into the more
habitable and cheerful part of the house
in which tho physician and his family
lived, having learned from habit to look
I lightly ou the empty human shrines of
reason that were sheltered beneath tho
same roof.
"She is so beautifull" said the girl to
herself as she went down the staircase.
"J hope God does not let her know
what she is now, or she would die, as I
should do."
"My dear Margaret," said her mother,
looking up as 'her eldest child entered
the room, "I do hope you have uot been
among the patients again?"
"I have been to see poor Leah," said
Margaret Fenwick in the same soft
voice, which was one of her gi'eatest
charms. "I must do that, you know,
if it makes her less unhappy."
"Let the child alone," said Dr. Fen
wick. She will do herself no harm, if
she does nobodv else any good. Bat
you did not work upon Brooker's feel
ings to give yon the key, I hope, Madge?
The door was locked, of course?
"I talked to her through the door,
that was all,' answered Margaret sim
ply. "Papa, do you think she will be
like other people again? It was only
last week she was sitting here with us
all, and I was teaching her to play the
accompaniment to mr songs!
"I know all that," said the thysician,
"but she is suffering from an acute at
tack of dementia now. She is very
oung, and may get completely over it,
out men sue will be alwavs liable to a
relapse. A sudden trouble would do it
at any time."
"And she has money, too!" sighed
Mrs. Fenwick half enviously, as if it
was a sin that -snch good material for
happiness should be wasted. "Didn't
you say she had monev ?''
"One hundred and fifty thousand dol
lars, 1 believe, said her rinaVinnrl 1rvlv
"but I think there are one hundred and
ty tucmsantl reasons why nobody
outturn uer.
it is live years since Margaret Fen-
;.neu at the corridor door, whis
pering soft words of love and sympathy
ipy gin insiue. She is liv
iiig in me city with, her mother now, for
xi. j. ejittii-K nas oeen dead some time
ana the establishment at Ilorewood is
orokeu up. ine gentle charm of her
loveliness is sun in its first flower, and
""a-1 ci me icner wmcn is in
her hand, the clear light of happiness
is irradiating her brow and laughing
back from the soft sweet eyes. The
words that a man writes to his promised
wife could be answered ra no more fit
ting way.
"My Dearest Child: I hare got al
the wav to lrginia safelv, and the
whole family is collected here under
the paternal roof. I needn't say that
one thing is wanting to me, and that, I
hope, will soon be supplied, for of
course yott -will come and spend Christ
mas with us. My father and mother
both want words to express their anxiety
to see you, and receive you as a daugh
ter. Write and say how soon you can
come. We are very quiet here, but
there are one or two new people in the
village. A Mrs. Fourier has taken the
White House, another daughter is a
regular acquisition. The old lady is
not much, but Leah Fourier plays and
sings divinely, and is unusuallygood
looking into the bargain. The girls are
mad about her. You see how hard up
I am for anything to tell you, when I
am forced to write about strangers. I
suppose you would get tired of it if I
were to keep on telling you that I love
you, but I have very few other ideas in
my head just now at any time. Besides,
isn't it much pleasanter to tell it with
your dear hand in mine? Your own
"Arthur Ashton."
"Leah Fourier," repeated Margaret
to herself dreamily; "I hope she won't
remember me. I wonder whether mad
people recollect anything that has pass
ed, when they are well? That would
be the most wretched part of it all."
Leah Fourier is singing, " If Thou
Kno west!" and Arthur Ashton is lean
ing over the piano, looking into her
magical eyes with an expression well,
which would mean a good deal with
some men, which is but a graceful cour
tesy, Margaret tries to believe, with Ar
thur Ashton. She has been at Allegan
a fortnight now, and has found Leah
Fourier almost as constant an inmate of
the house as herself. But then, as Ar
thur said, the girls are mad about her:
and there certainly is an enchantment
somewhere in her glowing face before
which few are able to stand. "Certain
ly, thou would'st love me!" she sings,
and Margaret knows that the words
would sound cold and passionless from
her own lips in comparison. Is it won
derful that there should be a reponse in
Arthur Ashton's eyes?
The song is ended, and Margaret Fen-
wick's fiancee strolls after the singer in
to the conservatory.
"If I were you, Margaret, I should
go after them, really," says Arthur's eld
est sister, half laughing. "Leah would
flirt with the footman, I believe, if there
was nobouy else in the way. it was
just the same when poor Charlie was at
home."
Margaret tries to smile, and to keep
her wistful eyes turned away from the
conservatory door, but she cannot help
sj:eculatmg a little as to .the difference
uetween "Foor Charlie and his broth
er. As to Jjeah, herself, she can hartllv
form a calm, rational opinion, so differ
ent is this Leah from the girl with tho
wild eyes, wuose poor uncertain fingers
she had helped to find their old famil
iar places on the 2'iano at Ilorewood
live years ago. She feels rather than
knows that the past is not all a blank in
Miss Fourier's brain; but no word of
recognition has passed between tho
girls, and it is plain at any rato that
nothing of that dreadful episode in
Leah's life is sus2eeted by the Ash
ton's. To Margaret herself, as she looks
on the other's proud, ini2erious beauty,
it seems a3 if her remembrance could
be nothing but a dream : and yet it is
almost a pain to her to think that so
much of her pity in those bygone days
was wasted.
Ten minutes a quarter of an hour.
goes slowly by, and Le?.h saunters back
into the drawing-room, with a spray of
maidenhair in her hand, and the passion
of her song still half-slumbering in
those deep, mysterious eves. " Mr.
Ashton is going to be kind enough to
see me Home, sue remarks generally
for everybody's information, and Mar
garet feels tne t;jie sudden chill that
had come to her the night before for the
first time, when her lover had undertak
en tho same surely unnecessary duty.
It is almost a relief to her to remember
that this is her last evening with the
Ashtons, and that next day Arthur is to
take her back to the city. Leah Fou
rier may take all the footmen in the
country into the conservatory with her
then, if she chooses.
Nevertheless the chill comes back to
her heart more unmistakably than ever
the next night, for Leah Fourier, and
the conservatory, and Arthur Ashton
are all left behind. He found that he
could take another week's holiday, he
told her. and she could not be selfish
enough to propose that he should spend
two days in traveling, merely for the
sake of taking her home. So their
good-bye was said at the little railway
station, but something fell out of his
pocket as ho was taking her ticket, and
she could not help seeing that it was a
bit of maidenhair fern. It was a pity
that it should be crushed under a stran
ger's foot before he could recover it
but then there was more in the conser
vatory. Four, five days without a letter, and
during that time the chill never leaves
her heart and then there comes vhat
she has been looking for. ne asks her
if she is good enough, unselfish enough
to forgive him; and adds, of course,
that he can never forgive himself. Mar
garet knows now what answer he made
to Leah's song, and wonders if there is
anything left for her in the world, or if
it is all made up of such questions and
such replies. Then she remembers that
her father had said that there were one
hundred and fifty thousand reasons why
no one should envy Leah Fourier.
Well, Leah is his, body and soul,
reason and all, if he chooses to take her;
and Margaret wonders whether the first
will make up to him for all the others.
Would he choose, if he knew of the
corridor at Horewood, and had seen the
lips he loved cloying themselves with
sweets that soft, compassionate hands
thrust by stealth within their reach? She
puts away the thought from her with a
shudder, calling upon God not to tempt
her to come between him and his happi
ness. If it can be hidden from him, it
would be a sin in her, of all women in
the world, to say a word which might
dash the cup from his lips. . She would
1
drink her own cup, instead, and try to
sweeten it by the thought that the man
she loved was happy with the girl for
whom she had once felt so divine a pity.
The months go quickly enough by,
now that Margaret no longer counts
how many there are between the seed
and the blossom of her happiness, and
she knows that Arthur Ashton must
have brought his bride back with him
by this time to his city home. ' Does she
sing, "If Thou Kncwest!" to him now,
Margaret wonders, or does each know
the depth and intensity of the other's
love by heart and find it ' sufficient ?
Margaret shudders as she remembers
that there is still a secret hidden from
Arthur Ashton in Leah's mysterious
eyes a secret which she alone can read,
and would give half her life to be able
to forget. Would it ever happen that
he should come to her and curse her
for having hidden it from him to re
venge herself ?
That she is revenged, God knows how
unwillingly, Margaret sees the first time
she holds Arthur Ashton's hand in hers
again. He has written to ask her if he
may come to her and satisfy himself of
her forgiveness, and her love is dead
enough in her heart for her to be able
to tell him "yes." She has even ceased
to wonder at the dreariness of her own
life, and is vaguely conscious, as he
takes her hand, of the same great pity
for him and the woman who had sup
planted her that filled her heart as she
went down the staircase at Horewood,
leaving the old corridor and the locked
door behind her.
"You have found out how little I was
worth your regret?" he says, forcing an
uneasy laugh, as he Rees that the old
quiver he remembers in her lips is there
no longer.
"No, not that," answers Margaret,
simply, "but it is quite true that I re
gret nothing; nothing at least that "
She stops, knowing that it is too late to
tell him now what she does regret, and
what she tries to persuade herself she is
mistaken in regreting. "You must be
very happy you are happy, are you
not?" she asks, anxiously.
"How long do you ex2ect a bride
groom's happiness to last?" he asks in
reply, with an affectation of levity that
tells Margeret she has been sacrificed in
vain. " Leah has been talking of com
ing to see you the last month, do you
know?"
"She is very beautiful." said Mar
geret, irrelevantly. " Is she quite well?"
"Well? of course she is," he answers
in not quite so even a voice. "Why
should she not be welll"
Margaret's heart turns sick with the
horrible a2prehension that he has al
ready learnt to suspect a reason why.
"I only meant that I should be very
glad to see her," sho answers in what
she strives to make her natural voice.
" Will you tell her so from me?"
"You knew her before that time you
came to stay with us, did you not?" he
asks, looking at her with a keen, in
quiring glance. "Why did you never
tell me that?"
"Yes; that is, I met her years ago,"
answers Margaret, hesitating. "I did
not think she remembered me; but
I knew her again as soon as I saw her."
"Did you ever quarrel?" the bride
groom asks, a little puzzled by her
manner.
"Oh, no," replies Margaret, with a
shudder, thinking of the crouching fig
ure and the greedy, clutching hands
that she had stolen up the long corri
dor to soothe into content. "But sho
was always a strange girl ; and I never
understood her quite," she adds rather
lamely.
"Yes strange that is the word, is it
not?" ho says, eagerly. "Sho is nerv
ous and depressed sometimes, you know,
but that is nothing. She used to be
that that is what you mean, is it not?"
It goes to Margaret's heart to see the
wistful look with which he waits for her
answer, striving to put away from his
thoughts the awful fear which she knows
has already overshadowed his life.
"I think she was always nervous,"
she answers, wishing that she dared say
something to comfort him, if she could
do so without a lie. "But of course,
now that she is happy, there is nothing
to be anxious about in that."
She does not offer to visit the bride
herself, knowing what the sight of her
must recall to Leah's mind, and not in
truth believing, that her presence would
be welcome, whatever Mrs. Ashton
might say to her husband of her wish to
see Margaret Fenwick again.
"Tell iier how glad I shall be, if she
likes to come," she says earnestly when
Arthur Ashton takes her hand in his to
again to say good-bj'e.
"Yes, I-will tell her," he answers, but
all the unreal cheerfulness has died out
of his voice. "It will do her good to
have a friend like vou some woman to
whom she can talk."
Margaret does not answer, for the
tears are filling her eyes; but.it needs
no words to tell Arthur Ashton that the
heart he has thrown away is large enough
for what he askes of it.
The months go by, but Leah Ashton
still only talks of coming to see the girl
whose place in life she had taken from
her; so that Christmas comes round
again without Margaret having seen
her rival since the evening on which
Leah came out of the conservatory, with
the S2ray of maidenhair in her hand.
There is a reason why Mrs. Ashton
should stay in her own house now, and
Margaret is not surprised to see in the
paper that Arthur Ashton has another
cause for being "very happy." She
almost persuaded herself that he may be
by this time, and writes to him of her
hope, with her dear love to his wife.
She did not think that such a letter re
quired immediate acknowledgement and
opens his reply a little anxiously, hear
ing that it had been brought by a special
messenger.
, "Come if you can at once she is asking for
you. God Lave mercy upon me! A. A."
He is waiting for her at the door as
she drives up; and even in the gas
light she can see upon his brow an aw
ful dreed that his prayer will not be
heard.
"You are afraid to see her?"
C0URT3SY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY,
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA,
Margaret puts her hand in his by way
of reply, and her very touch seems to
give him courage.
"She is not quite herself, you know
not sensible, I mean but the doc
tors say that is common. And your
name has been, on her lips all day.
She will be calmer when she sees you,
will she not?"
"Yes, yes, " says Margaret, choking
back her tears. "Only take me to her
at once."
She kneels by the bedside, disregard
ing the 2iresence of the doctor and nurse,
and her soft arm steals lovingly round
Leah's neck, as in the old day.
" Dear Leah, I am here, " she whis
2iers. The heavy lids open, and the dark
mystery of the wonderful eyes, blurred
and scortched with the lurid fire that
Margaret remembers so well, is turned
full upon her.
"Don't go away," Leah whispers, in a
hoarse, exhausted voice. "They are
shutting me up alone again."
Her husband is standing at the foot of
the bed, with horror-stricken face, but
she has no eyes for him.
"It is dark and miserable. Margaret,
but I will be quiet if you stay. Make
them let you stay, do you hear?"
The weak voice rises almost to a
scream, and Margaret tries in vain to
soothe it.
"Yes, dear Leah, I am Margaret.
Dear Leah, you know that I love you!
O, my poor darling, you know that I
love you!"
The surgeon, who is standing opposite
Margaret, shakes his head solemnly as
she raises her eyes to meet his, and the
shadow of death begins already to steal
over the room. Even tho lips are chill
and iallid as Margaret touches them
with her own, and the feverish grasp
of the 2"oor weak hand dies into im
2JOtence in her warm fingers. Tho dark
tangled hair falls over the shapely
brow and thick curled eyebrows just
as it used to do, and Margaret does
not know, until she is told, that it is
veiling the face of the dead. And there
is no need for her to j)ity Leah Ashton
any more.
The Origin of Prairies.
In a 2aper in the American Xaluralist,
Prof. 3.1). Whitney, after showing the
insufficiency of the ordinary theories
to explain why tho prairies are not
croached u2on by the bordering woods,
offers tho following ex2lanation of his
own:
"Let us turn at 2Jiesent to the geo
logical side of tho investigation. The
whole of New England and Now York,
and a large part of Ohio and Indiana,
together with tho whole of Michigan
and of Northern Wisconsin, constitute
a region over which the northern drift
25henomena have been disjjlayed on a
grand scale. Consequently almost the
whole of this area is covered with heavy
de2osits of coarse gravel and coarse
bowlder materials. These deposits, if
not at the surface, are near it, and the
finer materials de2osited on them, by
allnvial and other agencies, generally
form only a thin covering for the coarse
deposits beneath. But as we go soutli
and west from the region indicated
above, we find the underlying rock the
"bed-rock," as the California miners
would call it dee2"ly covered with
loose materials, it is true, but we ob
serve that these are quite different in
character from what they are to the
north and east. We come to a region
where the drift agencies have been very
limited in their action. The bulk of
the superficial detritus has been formed
from the deconqosition of the underly
ing rock, and this detritus has been but
little disturbed or moved from its
original position. If erratic deposits
exist, they are usually deeply covered
with finer materials derived from close
at hand. A great area exist? in Wis
consin and Minnesota over which not a
single dirt pebble has ever been found,
either at the surface or at any de2tth be
neath it. The strata have become
chemically disaggregated and dissolved
by the jiercolation of the rain through
them, the calcareous matter has been
carried off in solution, and there is left
behind as a residium tho insoluble
matter which the rock originally con
tained, and which, consisting largely of
silica and silicate of alumina, forms by
its aggregation a silicious and clayey
deposit of almost impalpable fineness.
It is this fiue material which makes the
bulk of the 2rairie soil; and, as the
writer conceives, it is this fineness
which is es2ecially inimical to the
growth of trees. Exactly as we see the
desiccated lakes in the midst of the
forests graduilly filling up with finely
comminuted materials aud becoming
covered with a growth of grasses or
sedges, which is not afterward en
croached on by trees, no matter wheth
er the ground becomes completely dry
or whether it remains more or less
swampy, so we have the prairies, which
have certainly never at any time been
overs2read with forests, and "which
would always remain as they are, pro
vided the climate underwent no Radical
change aud tliev were not interfered
with by man. It is for the vegetable
2hysiologist to say why this fineness of
soil is unfavorable to the growth of
trees; it is for the geologist and ihysi
cal geogra2her to set forth the facts
which they may observe within the line
of their own professional work."
To Improve the Contour of Tnn
Chest. Loosen the clothing, and,
standing erect, throw the shoulders well
back, the hands behind and tho breast
forward. In this position draw slowly
as deep an inspiration as possible, and
retain it by an increased effort for a few
seconds, and . then breathe it gradually
forth. After a few natural breaths, re
peat the long ins2)iration. Let this be
done for ten or fifteen minutes each
day, and in six weeks time a very per
ceptible increase in the diameter of the
chest and its 2rominence will be evi
dent. The
lowest.
boughs that bear most hang
r
A Curious Old Newspaper.
There has lately been discovered
(says the London Academy) in the li
brary of the TJniversary of Heidelberg,
a co2y of a newspaper which proves to
be the oldest iieriodical of which there
is any knowledge. It is a quarto vol
ume," bearing the date 1609, and is sup
posed to have been printed by John
Carolus, of Strasburg. The paper was
issued weekly, each number consisting
of two sheets. It waa mainly occupied
with letters from correspondents in
adjoining States, which were contribu
ted regularly. It is interesting to note
that letters from ' Vienna were about
eight days on the .route, from Venice
from fourteen to seventeen days, and
from Borne twenty-one days. When
the matter contained in the W.ters, to
gether with the news retailed at second
hand, failed to fill the sheet, the re
maining space was left blank.
Intelligence of every sort found a
place in the journal. Among the most
interesting occurrences noted was the
manufacture of the telescope by Galileo.
The correspondent from Florence writes,
on September 4th, to the effect "that
the Government of Venice made a con
siderable 2)resent to Signor'Galileo, of
Florence, Professor of Mathematics at
Padua, and increased his annual sti
pend by one hundred crowns, because
with diligent study he found out a rule
and measure by which it is possible to
see 2Jlaces thirty miles distant as if they
were near, and, on the other hand, near
objects to appear much larger than they
are before our eyes."
The news received from Prague af
fords a disturbed picture of plunder and
murder in the streets of the city. It ap
2iears that at this period men and wo
men Avere daily seized by bandits,
robbed, strangled and thrown into the
Moldeau. Seven bodies were taken
from the water in one day, and at anoth
er time seven malefactors were a2)iro
hended, "who confessed that, on the
loth of the month, they threw about
fourteen persons into the water, and
that their band numbered about eighty,
who were, for the most jmrt, natives of
Prague."
One Danger of Blue Glass. It
seems that the excitement about the cur
ative 25r02erties of blue glass, which
filled up so much S2ace in the newspa
pers little while ago, has been produc
tive in certain instances of more harm
than such 2eriodical epidemics, if we
may call them so, usually are.
That blue glass has any curative Yroi
erties remains to bo proved; but that
glass of that color will concentrate the
rays of the sun. in a lesser degree, as
the common burning glass does, was
known before General Pleasanton's book
was 2)rinted and made so much of in
the news2)apers. A gentleman of Brook
lyn suffering from weakness of sight
was led by the adv ice of well meaning
friends to use S2octacles of blue glass,
such as certain opticians are selling
just now. The result was that his eyes,
already too weak lo be used much in or
dinary circumstances, wero ex2Josed to
a terrible glare and heat which in less
than a week entirety destroyed tho eye
sight of the sufferer. He is now totally
blind. This is a fact, and the gentleman
would doubtless be glad to have other
sufferers from weak eyes know of this
case and draw a moral therefrom. An
other similar instance has come under
our observation, a young lady being, in"
this case, the du2e of the blue glass sn
thusiasts. It is worth bearing in mind that
the only ro2:erty of blue glass that
has been proved is its power to concen
trate the rays of the sun and produce
extraordinary heat. One of the most
efficient methods employed in Siberia
to blind rolitical prisoners is to pass be
fore the eyes of the captives a bright
steel blade heated to a red heat, but it
seems likely that with tho march of civ
ilization the Russian jailors will adopt
another method which will 2roduce ex
actly the same result, that is, they will
try blue glass. Neio York Eceninq Post.
How to Choose Pictures for jl
Room. Most people know that light
colors make rooms look larger than dark
ones, though it is probable that few can
entirely realize the wonderful difference
between them until they have eeen the
walls 2'ainted dark or the reverse. A
light lecture by the same law makes a
room look larger, and a picture darker
than the wall it is hung upn will re
duce the size of the room, unless the
lightness of the room is sufficient to
condensate for the difference. Per
haps the present decided taste for light
pictures is partly due to this. A rule
in the arrangement of interiors may be
deduced from these observations, which
is, that when a room is smaller than we
should like it to be we ought to hang
very light pictures in it, and when it is
uncomfortably largo we should reduce
it with dark ones. But there are other
things to be considered. Pictures
which represent narrow interiors do not
enlarge rooms much, because they con
vey a feeling of confinement; but land
scapes with vast distances enlarge
rooms immensely. In engravings and
.water colors the margin has an important
enect. Worcester Spy.
Looking Ahead. From 1800 to 1870
the population of England increased from
ten to twenty-eight millions, and that of
the United States from five to thirty
eight millions, and it is moderately es
timated that among civilized nations the
population now doubles in each period
of fifty-fonr years, The advance made
in hygenic science, and the comparative
mildness of modern warfare are mainly
responsible for this ra2id increase,
frightful in view of future cocsequenceF.
It is a subject of not a little anxiety
among provident Englishmen of to-day,
how the fifty-six. millions of mouths
which, in a short half century, will be
craving for food within the narrow bor
ders of that country, can be satisfactor
ily filled, and it is enough to keep a
philanthropist perilexedty awake o
nights, to reflect on the difficulty - of
feeding the dense population of. the
earth a couple of thousand years hence.
Tne CzarV Wild Cavalry. .
FREAKS OF the UNTAMED COSSACKS aow
THEY BIDE AND PLAY HORSES THAT CAN
MOUNT A TABLE. "
A Kischeneff correspondent writes:
" The Cossacks are divided into several
corps the Cossacks of the Don, the
Cossacks of the Ukraine, the Cossacks of '
the Caucasus, etc. Each of these divis
ions has a chief, who is called an ataman ,
and holds the rank of general, and all
the Cossacks of the empire are united
under a single chief, who has the title of
the " ataman general." This latter title .
always devolves upon the hereditary
grand duke. The Cossack clothes and
equips himself, and his uniform and his
horse belongs to himself. He wears, a
"arge round lo Tap Hufrf -iiav-fnra -Astrakan,
wide pantaloon, stuffed into ,
his boots and reaching just below his
knees, the whole covered by a kind of
overcoat, buttoning on tho back, and
having three long flaps reaching to the
feet and fastened on the full length. On
his breast, to the left and right in verti
cal cases, he i-Tries six can ridges at
each side. In Lis belt he carries a poin
ard. A baldaric hangs from his should-"
er and passes to the left side, where it
supports a long saber in a le thel scab
bard. On his back, hanging from a ban-,
doleer and wrap2ed in a case niade of
goat's skin, he carries his rifle. The
Cossack always carries in his hand a
whip, with a short lash, which he calls
Tcinjal. His horse is small and rather
ugly, and, though he is made of good
stuff, his form is somewhat angular. To
form an idea of the Cossack saddle, im
agine an ordinary saddle upon which
would be fastened by a strap a square
leather cushion about four inches high.
This is the reason that at first sight one
is as much surprised to see this curious
looking cavalier perched up so high on
his saddle. He sticks on his horse's
back by sticking his knees into the ani
mal's sides with all the strength, which
gives his legs the appearance of a pair of
pinchers. The stirrup is an equally
curious thing. The bottom is round and
thick enough, but from that up it re
sembles very much one of those tin boxes
in which preserves are sold. It has
been already said that the Cossack's
horse is his personal property, and it
may be added that he turns it to busi
ness account by hiring it out. Since
the arrival of the troops at Kischeneff
they have been the delight of the colleg
ians, who, for a rouble an hour, have
been enabled to make 2Jromenades on
horse-back in bands on these valiant lit
tle animals.
At the time of my arrival the squad
ron of Cossacks was massed in a heap in
a corner. One of them started at a gal
lop and threw his cap into the middle of
the square. Immediately all the others
precipitated themselves forward at a
headlong galloj) and endeavored to pick
up the cap either with the hand or the
whip or by jumping to the ground. It
was a scene of general confusion, during
which the eye could scarcely distinguish
horses from men. All this is accm
2anied by cries which do not cease till
some horseman by an adroit maneuvre
has managed to obtain possession of iho
trophy. Then they all start off again,
lashing their horses with all their might,
for it is a curious fact that during the
whole time that the Cossack is mounted
he beats his horse without a. moment's
cessation. The reader must not suppose
that it is necessary that the Cossack must
form one of a band in order that he may
give j)lay to his fantasies. Sometimes
when he is alone he lets himself run in
to certain eccentricities, of which I will
give an example.
I was breakfasting in a restaurant
when all on a sudden the door opened
with a loud noise and a Cossack rushed
in like a hurricane. After promenading
noisily around the tables he pulled up
his horse before one of the guests and
placed the animal's nose on a plate of
green salad which had just been brought
out and which the horse ate with great
celerity. Then man and horse departed
just as they came, without any person,
not even the proprietor of the establish
ment, saying a single word. Perhaps
it was because the Cossack held in his
hand the kinjal, whose strokes would
cost him nothing. Later on I spoke of
this incident to the aid-de-camp of an
ataman, who simply laughed and said:
"What surprises me is that the Cossack
did not make his horse get up on a table."
Seeing that I was astonished he called
a Cossack who was waiting in the yard.
The soldier came in on horseback with
out hesitating. The officer spoke but a
sipgle word and in less time than it takes
me to write it the Cossack made bis horse
mount the billiard table. I insisted on
no more, for this experiment was enough
to edify me. As much will be said of
Cossacks in this war it may be well to
give an account of this peculiar cav
alary. However astonishing may be the
acts attributed to them the reader may
accept the statement with confidence;
for the truth of the stories can be estab
lished by good evidence. Already they
have made hitherto unheard of march
es, and they will be the real heroes
of the events about to commence.
The reader has observed, no doubt,
that in every war attention is concentrat
ed on some one fact. In the Crimean
war the Zouaves were the startling nov
elty. In 1858, in Itlay, it was rifled
cannon. In 1870 the Uhlans. In. the
Bulgarian insurrection of last year the
Bashi-Bazouks were the feature of great
interest. This year the Cossacks will
play leading part. They will encounter
the famous Bashi-Bazouks, whom the
Turks will not fail to put in the advance
guards. We shall then see the Turkish
irregulars exhibit as much readiness to
meet ar d destroy an armed enemy as to
butcher women and children.
- There is a precocious six-year old boy
in Auburn, Me., who is wonderful on
S23elling and definition. The other day
his teacher asked him to spell matrimony:
" M-a-t-r-i-m-o-n-y," said the youngster
pronqjtly. "Now define it," said the
teacher. "Well," replied the boy. " I
don't exactly know what it means, but I
know mother's got enough of it."