'
, i!
-- !
j DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. v I
-z- " . . : : . . t j ;
VOL. 11.
OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1877
NO. 40.
THE ENTERPRISE.
A LOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOR THE
t'jtruaer, Uuln Imi ! I'mullr Circle
ISSUED EVERY TE fliSDA Y.
S. IDIEIMIIEIISrT,
PBOP8IKTOR AND PUBLISHES.
Official Paper for Clackamas County.
Otliew: In Eiiterrie Ituililin-.
Out door South of Masouic Building. Main Street.
T-ruit orXulwcrlptlou:
Hiugle Copy, one year, la advance $'i 50
biuglu Copy, six months, iu advance 1 SO
Trrtut f AdirrlUiusi
Transient ad vertiatoiiliuiH. including all lrgaT
notices, jxjf square of twelve lines, one
week 2 50
fur each subsequent insertion 100
Ugt Column, one year 120 00
Half Column, one year 0 00
Quarter Column, one year 40 00
Business CarU.;oue square, cue year 12 00
SOCIETY NOTICES.
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F.
Meets every Thursday Evening, at-v. .
7X o'clock, in Odd fellows' Hall, v -rXjj 1
Main Street. Members of the Order iTiA. -are
invited to altend.
By order of N. G.
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2,
I. o. o. r., meets on the Second and fT-
at 7 o ciock, in me uua f ellows' Hall.
Members of tue Degree are invited to
attend.
FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4.
I. O. O. F.. meet at Odd Fellows' Hall on
the First and Third Tuesday bf each month.
Patriarchs in good standing are luviti-d to
attend.
MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1,
A. F. h A. M., holds iti regular comiuuni- c
cations on the First and Third Saturdays
Id eaoh mouth, at 7 o'clock from the 'idth
, . 4J V... ... . 1 . ...,.1. , 1 1 '
cscjfcoiuw-t iu iu .ii. u. ui .nun ii ; null y i
7H o'clock from the 2th of Marrh to the
UOth of September. Brethren iu k""d standing are
invited to attend. By order of W. M.
BUSINESS CARDS.
J. W. NORRIS,
I'fijMioiaii anI Siiroon.
On Fourth Street, at foot of Cliff Stairway. tf
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CANBY. OREGON,
lMiysician and Druggist.
aPrescrlptlons carefullv filled at short notice.
Ja7.tr
PAUL BOYCE, M. D.,
simian aiiI Surgoou,
OitaooN City, Oueuo.s.
Chronic Diseases aud Diseases of Woium aud
Children a specialty.
Otfice Hours day and Uiglit; always readr when
duty calls. " aux. 'Ttf
DR. JOHN WELCH,
QDEXTTST.gS
OFFICEJX 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 State.
Special attention given to casts in the United
States Land Orttce at Oregon City. Sapr'7'j.tf
L. T. BARIN.
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
OREGON CITY, OREGON.
Will practice in all the Court of the State,
uovl, "75-tf
G W. H. HICHFIELD,
EsIuIiHnIkmI t in c -Il,
One door North of Pope's Hall,
M l T.. OHEUOX CITY, OKKUO.
An assortment of Watches. Jewelrv. and
St,tb Thomas' Weight Clocks, all of which
are warranted to be as rerjresente1.
SVKepairing done on short notice; audthauktul
for past patronage.
mIi faitl for Comity Order.
JOHN M. BACON,
BOOKS, STATI0ITCRY,3ir
PICTURE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MISCEL
LANEOUS GOODS.
FB tJICS MADE TO ORUElt.
. Obeoos Citt, Obeoox.
"At the Post Office. Main Street, west side.
novl. '73-tf
J. R. GOLDSMITH,
GENEUATi :v i: vs i i i : i c
a
o Collector aud Solicitor.
PORTLAND. OREGON.
C7"Iiest of references given. det 25-'77
HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL,
Hub, Npokcs, Kims.
OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK.
OKTIIKI I A THOMPSON,
niarSlTG-tf Tortlarnl, On-gon.
J. H. SHEPARD,
HOOT AXI) SltOi: STOUK,
One door North of A?kernian Bros.
as th cheapest.
dwii iuu auun uiaue atiu repairea as cheap
novl. 75.tf
MILLER, CHURCH & CO.
PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT
At all times, at the
OREGON OITY MILLS,
And bare n hand FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
market ratea. Parties detiring Feed must furnish
aacka. nov!2tf
A. C. WALLING'S
lMoncer ISook Kind cry
Pittoek's Building, cor. of Stark aud Front Sts..
PURTLtAD, OKCUUX.
BLANK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND TO ANY
doaired pattern. Music Bocks. Magazine,
Newspapers, etc.. bound In every variety of style
anown to the trade. Orders front the country
fcrompUy attended to. novl, 75-tf
OREGON CITY BREWERY-
IIUriiIUT fc MADDER,
Pnrchi the above Brewerv.rE
"lV lnfom th Public that they areUE
sow ..7.77. F-i 'uii un
JaUty manufacture .No. 1
A.D OF LAER BEER,
Ordwa aotlf. Tti anywhere in the State,
uraar eoUclted and promptly filled.
HO IS THE STORY TOLD.
A fair head meekly bowed,
A shy glance coming al ter.
Voices not overloud.
And a low sweet laughter :
So is the story told
Up in the cottage old
Under the smoky rafter.
A fair maid flushing red
With an unknown feeling.
But shamed to bow her head
For all her lover's kneeling
So is the story told
Down 'mid the white and
Under the painted ceiling.
gold
A" UAmS POET.
Somebody contributes to the Kansas World a po
em, giving the secret of a lady who married wealth
and betrayed a lover. It is so much better than
newspaper poetry in general, that we copy the con
cluding five stanzas:
They call me the wit afrd the bauty
The irumau wttu notning to crave
Bend lower, dear Belle, let me whisper .
I wish I lay dead iu my grave ! x
For here, by all that is holy.
Br the crucifix blessed I'll swear
That to lie upon that man's bosom
And feel I'd a right to be there
" To feel his dear arms thrown around lue.
To his broad bosom clasping me tight
To drink in the balm of the kisses
I know on my lips would alight
To hear his low murmured ' My darling,'
Breathed close in my hungring ear.
And feel his proud heart beating wildly.
To my poor, wretched bosom so near.
" I would give up my rank and my station.
All the blessings of life I have known.
And I fear if the forfeit were Heaven,
I'd stake it to call him my own.
And he knows it. He knows that awoken.
A whisper from him or a nod.
And the vows of my wifehood were broken,
Unheeded my fame or my God.
" He knows it. He knows that I love him
With a love that o'ermastereth pride ;
That a sign, and I'd crouch like a spaniel.
Close close to my dear master's side.
He knows it ! And yet there's no tokn.
No whisper from him, and no sign;
And my fame is still bright and untarnished.
The world's fairest honors are mine.
' Ah, Belle ! he's the truest of geullemen.
In spite of the garments he wears;
By right of the nobleman's spirit.
The honor his proud bosom bears.
Now you've opened the sepulchre wbited.
And seen the dead bones lie within ;
Close it up J Seal it fast ! And forever
Bewara of my shame and my sin."
LETTY'S PROMISES.
Wheu Laurence Van Everen was
about to sail for the East Indies, he
asked Letty to walk half an hour in the
orchard with him, which was wreathed
and perfumed with fruit blossoms.
' 1'vo a request to make to you, my
dear Letty," he said, "and i'm half
afraid you may think it a selfish thing
to ak; indeed I know it is, but yet,
with the renowned selfishness of man, I
not only ask, I beg it."
"What on earth can it be?" said Let
ty, smiling, "Do you want me to get
me to a nunnery till your return, or to
travel to Calcutta to marry you? Or do
you want me to give the cold shoulder
to Tom Longworthy. and promise never
to say so much as 'how do ye do?' to
him?" For the gossips had said their
say in Van Everen's ear, when he re
turned from his last voyage, to the ef
fect that Eongwarthy had taken advan
tage of his absence to be sweet on Let
ty, and that Letty was by no means
averse to sweets, supplemented by the
assurance, "However, Tom isn't a mar
rying man. and if Letty hadn't been
promised, he would have paid her no
heed; Tom always goes in for a safe
thing." But this philosophy by no
means satisfied Van Everen.
"No Letty, it is none of the trifles,"
he answered; "it is something much
more important to my happiness.
"You know I will do anythir
mything to
please you."
"You will? Then promise me this
thing solemnly promise that if any
thing should happen to me, if I should
never return, or I should die, promise
that you will remain mine forever that
you will never, never marry another.
(Jan you promise me tins, darling?
"Certainly. Tiut you will come back
you must. Why, I should dio myself
if you failed. There is no need of sucli
a promise, but I give it all the same. I
promise solemnly that if you die I will
never marry.
"Thanks," said Van Everen, kissing
her cheek with an air of having con
ferred a favor. "I have 'exactly five
minutes left in which to say good-bye.
There i a great deal called love in this
world which is only propinquity ; but
one musn't call it loving, so the poet
tells us
Unless yon can love as the angels may
ltb the breadth of heaven betwixt us.
And you think you can, Letty?"
"I know it. Perhaps you mean to
commit suicide iu order to test me."
And then followed a few minutes of
tender nonsense, and Van Everen tore
himself away, leaving Letty in tears.
What a long, long time it was to look
forward to! How many storms would
beat along the coast, how many suns
would shine, mornings dawn, and even
ings gather to their close, before they
met again! In the meantime here was
her trousseau to finish; and she used to
sit at it hour by hour, with her thoughts
away on some distant reach of the In
dian eeas, except when Tom Longworthy
loitered in to help kill time. One morn
ing he brought her a letter, which a
sailor who had spoken the Flying Scud,
two months out, had entrusted to him,,
and he looked out of the window wTiile
she read it, whistling "The long, long
weary day," softly. Tom was really a
comfort to her, in spite of Van Everen's
unreasonable jealousy. He could tell
her all about the long Indian voyage, of
cyclones, calms and trade winds all
about the great foreign cities to which
her lover was bound, with their sun
burnt natives, their strange customs,
their fantastic stuffs, and curious archi
tecturetill she felt asil she were there
herself. It was some months later that
Tom Longworthy came in with a cloud
on his face.
"You are ill," said Letty, regarding
him.
"Not at all, thank you, only ill at
ease. "
"Then you have some bad news."
"Yes, I have some bad news."
"Nothing about Laurence?" she
gasped.
"I hope not."
"You hope net. For heaven's sake,
don't vou knoxc? What is it? Don't
think you are sparing my feelings. You
are only cruelly '
"The Flying Scud"
"Is lost?"
"Has foundered. But there is no cer
tainty with regard to Laurence; he may
be among the saved. Letty! Letty!
don't look at me as if had brought it
about. I would exchange places with
him gladly for your sake; I would in
deed!" he cried.
She left her needle where the ill-news
found it, and folded away all the wed
ding garments. And month followed
month of anxious forebodings; and one
or two old seamen straggled home to
their families, battered and destitute,
after many hardships, but they knew
nothing of Van Eyeren; he had not
taken the sane boat; some had been
swept away by a wave, before the ship
was abandoned ; and so by sad degrees
hope and Laurence Everen was given
up. But though the object that made
existence precious has been rudely torn
from us, yet we go forward with the
drama; perforce, ve must dine, read
letters, receive condolence, discuss
crape and bombazine, as if the world
had not suddenly grown empty and for
lorn. And so it was with Letty. Daily
life was too exacting; she could, not sit
down and hug her grief, and look at it
in every light, and discuss it in all its
bearings; she was obliged to dry her
tears and earn her bread. The railroad
stock in which her small fortune was in
vested had suddenly declared against
dividends. She could not permit her
self to share the crumbs that fell from
her uncle's table, and which they could
ill-afford to spare, even had independ
ence been sweet a quality it was never
known to posess. Thus in her routine
of drudgery Tom Longworthy's kind
ness and occasional visits constituted
her only variety. If she found a bunch
of the earliest May flowers on her desk,
she knew who left them there; if Christ
mas brought her an anonymous gift,
he was none the less certain of the giv
er. If her birthdays and anniversaries
were remembered, whose thoughtful
ness could it bo but Tom's? It was,
perhaps, three years and better after the
Flying Scud had sailed that Letty,
weary of declining invitations, and of
being asked if she meant to sacrifice her
self like a Hindoo widow, joined a party
of friends going to take their tea in the
sunset at the beach, two hours steaming
down the river. She had understood
that there was to be a handful of people,
but she found a crowd; and sitting on
the sand, looking at the delicate sea
shell pink of the eastern sky above the
tossing breakers, or watching the groups
of Jgirls making their table of a sand
heap and spreading it with dainties from
their baskets, while others gathered
drift-wood and lighted a picturesque
blaze beneath the coffee and clam pots
was a pleasant change from the monot
ony of her days. Presently, while she
gazed, a little boat, with the sunset red
dening its sails, "quenched its speed
in the slushy sand," and Tom Long
worthy threw his anchor ashore.
"Letty!"
"Tom!"
"I wish you had allowed me to bring
you down."
"I wish I had." And then they fell to
speaking of the moon-led tides; about
great storms and wrecks.
"Do you know," she confessed , "their
driftwood fire chills me? How do I
know but it is a bit of spar poor Lau
rence clung to?"
"They are having supper," sail Long
worthy, turning away. "Let me bring
you something. We have been too
gloomy."
"No, when I am gloomy, I am in no
danger of forgetting. Don't you re
member Anderson s story oi the poor
old maid who used the broken half of a
bottle picked up on the beach for her
canarv'a drinking-vessel, when it was a
bit of the very bottle to which her lost
lover had entrusted a tender farewell."
" You don't intend to be an old maid,
Letty?"
"I ? The day of my destiny is over.
How ghostly the lighthouse looks! I
used to think I should like to live in
one, especially in stormy weather."
"They will be lighting up presently;
we will pay them a visit, if youplease."
And while they climbed the light-house
tower, and saw the fishing fleet standing
out to sea, and watched the. keeper
light his lamps, while he told them of
the seabirds that beat their lives out
against the windows, of ships he had
seen go to pieces in the storm, of the
times he had put out in his boat to the
rescue, and his wife keeping the lamps
bright alone amidst the gale, their
friends were gathering up the fragments
and steaming homeward, each thinking
that Letty was with the other. When
Tom and Letty came out under the
stars, the beach had a wild and louely
aspect ; some night bird was screaming
overhead, the gypsy fire smouldered
amidst some stranded timbers, but the
sands were deserted. Tom's little craft
was the only one in sight, and with the
wind dead against them and the tide
falling, it would be useless to start for
some hours jet.
"We may as well make ourselves com
fortable," said Tom, bringing fresh fuel
for the fire. "I am to blame for this
disaster."
"I don't call it a disaster exactly,"
said Letty. "Do you see how much our
back-log resembles a crouching camel?
In this weird light I can half believe
that we are belated on the desert, and are
bivouacking till day. It's rather roman
tic than disastrous."
"I am glad you-see it in that light.
You would make the desert blossom like
a rose."
"How you flatter me!"
" I ? We never flatter those we love."
"You needn't take paiDsto tell me that
you don't love me," she laughed.
" "I take pleasure in telling you that
I do."
"That you do! that you do?
"Yes; I do love you, Letty," stretch
ing his arms toward her, for she had
risen and half moved away. "Letty!
Letty! don't be angry with me for lov
ing vou. How could I help it?" t
"You must," she cried; "You musn t
1
love me. You don't. It's all a fancy.
You deceive yourself. I can't allow you
to love me."
"You might as well say that you
wouldn't allow the frost to pinch you,
or the rain to drench you.. Can't vou love
me a little, Letty?"
"Oh, don't ask me! don't! I can't; it
is quite impossible. Forgive me for say
ing so. You have always been a friend
to. me."
"And always shall be, Letty."
"Then don't let us talk about love,
nor think of it. I shall never marry."
" But if you should change your
mind"
"I can never change it."
"Yet if such a thing should hap
pen women have that privilege, you
know you will find me always the
same."
"But you must be sure that it never
can happen."
"Since you deny me so much, humor
me in this whim of mine, Letty, and
promise me that if any change should
occur, you will let me know."
"I can safely promise you that," she
replied.
"Thank you."
It is nut often that a lover is obliged
to impose his society upon the sweet
heart who has refused him. One might
conceive of it as an embarrassing situa
tion, but it did not prove so in the case
of Tom and Letty ; they spoke or were
silent, as the spirit moved. He trimmed
his boat with a hand as steady as if all
his wishes had been granted." They
counted the constellations and the har
bor lights, watched the stars set, and the
gray dawn shine upon the water, and
sunrise was just beginning to glow in
tender lines of color as they reached the
town, made the boat fast, and stepped
ashore. Only a few loungers were
smoking on the wharf, and waiting for
a job or a sensation. The widow Gir
dle was pulling up her blinds as they
passed, while the housemaid at Dr.
Squills was sweeping off the front steps,
leaning on her broom, for all the world
like an interrogation point.
"That don't look right," said Widow
Girdle "a teacher of youth gallivant
ing about the country. Where has she
been at this hour? That's what I would
like to know."
"I dare say you would," said her
brother. "Suppose you ask."
But Mrs. Girdle did better. She ask
her neighbors, who passed the question
on; and the result was that in the course
of a month Letty was notified that her
resignation of her grammar school
would be accepted. Mrs. Girdle, shop
ping in Boston one day, met Tom Long
worthy at Parker's.
"What is the news at Carbondale?" he
asked.
"News is as scarce as money, Mr.
Longworthy," said she. " I suppose
you know that Letty Andrews has lost
her school. But that's and old story."
"Lost her school! Why?"
"Oh, you must ask the school com
mittee. Young ladies who have the
care of children should be circumspect,
and not allow fascinating young men to
keep them out late on the river, you
know."
"You don't mean to say that luckless
affair of mine was the cause? It was all
an accident, Mrs. Girdle, and entirely
my fault."
"I wonder you don't make amends by
marrying her, Don Quixote."
"She has all ready refused me."
"Refused you! You're joking," said
the widow, opening her eyes with as
tonishment."
"It may be fun for you, but its ghast
ly truth to me."
Mr. Longworthy went directly to his
office, and wrote, "Dear Letty, don't
forget that I love you, and that it is
hard for me to live without you."
"Thanks," came the reply. "You will
hnd it possible.
It was early in December when Letty
went into Boston to answer an adver
tisement for a companion. It had
proved unsatisfactory, and she was on
her way to the cars, when ' she was
overtaken by Captain Crane, a neigh
bor, just home from a three years'
cruise.
"Ship ahoy!" 6aid he. "How are the
folks at Carbondale? Don't know
me, Miss Letty? Anything happened
since I sailed?"
"You'll find plenty of change Cap
tain Crane. Even Carbondale doesn't
stand still while you go around the
world."
"By-the-way, I fell foul of an old
sweatheart of yours in Californy."
"An old sweetheart of mine?"
"Yes. Even old sweethearts get old
if vou erive them time enough. Per
haps you don't remember Van Everen !"
"Don't remember Van Everen!"
"Laurence. Wasn't he sweet on you,
Miss Letty? I ran against him, just by
chance, a week before I sailed; he's
given up the sea, he tells me taken to
trading. Guess he's married money,
by the look of things."
"Married money! Laurence Van Ev
eren ! What do you mean Captain Crane?
Don't vou know that he was lost at sea
in the Flying Scud?"
"Was he? Then the sea's given him
up, too; it's a mutual affair, eh? He's
the substantialest shadow I ever sight
ed. The Flying Scud was lost while I
was off whaling, but I didn't know he
was aboard. But, you see, he wasn't
born to be drowned, Van Everen wasn't!
His wife can't hold a candle to you, Miss
Letty begging pardon but I reckon
she had solid charms."
Letty was in a half-stunned condition,
all the" way to Carbondale, while Cap
tain Crane spun his yarns. Waa it any
thing to her that Laurence waa alive
and married? Did she feel any bitter
ness that he had given her so much
trouble for naught, that he had forsaken
her? She had promised never to marry
if he died; but he was not dead. And
Tom loved her and she? Yes, she was
grateful to Laurence, after all; she felt
as if she should like to thank him for
having jilted her so cruelly.
"Dear Mr. Longworthy," she wrote
to him, "when I told you I should
never marry, it was because I had given
a solemn promise to Laurence Van Eve
COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY,
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA,
BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA
ren that if he died I would remain sin
gle." But he is alive, and I hope you
will pardon Lett? Andrews."
"So the dream departs!" sighed Tom.
"The lost hero returns; she is going to
marry him after years of constancy.
She need not apologize for loving him
instead of me. It ends like a novel,
only I am left out in the cold like the
villain in the piece. I wonder where
Laurence has been all this while. He
always had a plausible tongue; but if
she loves him well, I had better go
West and change the scene."
But before going West it was neces
sary for him to run down to Carbon
dale, settle some family fairs, and ap
praise his grandfather of his plans. It
was a month since Letty had written
her note before he could make up his
mind to see her and Carbondale.
"I have come, Miss Letty," he blun
dered, "to offer my congratulations and
and good-byes at once."
"Congratulations?" questioned Letty,
with a perplexed frown.
"Yes. You are looking worn and
pale; I'm afraid happiness doesn't agree
with you."
"Happiness doesn't agree with me? I
don't think I evertried the experiment."
It was Tom's turn to look surprised.
"I received your note "
The color trembled acros3 Letty's
face, her lip quivered, her eyes dilated.
"You received it?" she gasped. "You
received it!"
"Wasn't it just a' little unnecessary,
Letty ? I should have heard of it soon
enough."
"How could you have heard it if I
had not told you?"
"Wouldn't it have been in every
body's mouth? Can a dead man come
to life and nobody speak of it? But I
dare say you meant kindly. Letty ?"
"For Heaven's sake, Tom, don't you
see what I mean?" cried Letty, all of a
rose-color.
"Certainly you meant to break it to
me gently that you were going to marry
Van Everen."
"But Van Everen is already married."
"Married? What a dunce I am!
Letty! Letty! can you forgive me? Can
you love such a stupid fellow? Jove!
a whole month of happiness forfeited
by a blunder. Kiss me Letty."
Heart Disease.
When an individual is reported to
have died of a "Disease of the Heart,"
we are in the habit of regarding it as an in
evitable event, as something which could
not have been foreseen or prevented,
and it is too much the habit, when per
sons suddenly fall down dead, to report
the "heart" as the cause; this silences
all inquiry and investigation, and saves
the trouble and inconvenience of a re
pulsive post-mortem. A truer report
would havo a tendency to save many
lives. It is through a report of "dis
ease of the heart," that many an opium
eater is let off into the grave, which
covers at once his folly and his ciime;
the brandy drinker, too, quietly slides
round the corner thus, and is heard of
no more; in short, this "report" of "dis
ease of the heart," is the mantle of char
ity, which the politic coroner, and the
sympathetic physician throw around the
grave of "genteel people." At a late
scientific Congress at Strasburgh, it was
repor ted that, of sixty-six persons who
had suddenly died an immediate and
faithful post-mortem showed that only
two persons had any heart affection
whatever; one sudden death only, in
thirty-three from disease of the heart.
Nine out of the sixty-six died of apo
plexy, one out of every seven, while
forty-six, more than two out of three,
died of lung affections, half of them
of "congestion of the lungs," that is,
the lungs were so full of blood, they
could not work, there was not room for
air enough to get in to support life.
Hall's Journal of Health .
That Historic River, the Danube.
The river Danube has figured largely
in history for 2,000 years, and it again
becomes the object to which the eyes of
the world has turned. It fnrnished a
highway for the Turks in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, to penetrate
Europe as far as Vienna, and in the days
of the Crusades it became an outlet for
the religious enthusiasm of Europe to
flow to the Holy Land. The Danube,
from its source in Baden to the Black
Sea, is 1,820 miles long, and it drains,
with its tributaries, an area of 300,000
square miles. It passes throughJBava
ria, Austria, Hungary, forms the bound
ary between Hungary and Servia, to the
Carpathian Mountains, where it sepa
rates Roumania and Bulgaria, and
passes into the Black Sea through sev
eral mouths, the principal one being
that of Sulina. The Danube is naviga
ble for steamers as far as Ulm, in Ba
varia. At Nicopolis, in the fourteenth
century, 100,000 Christians were driven
by the Turks into the Danube, and in
the fifteenth century 40,000 Turks were
slain on its shores at the siege of Bel
grade. A Female Who Must Have Been
Ten Feet in Height. A very remark
able skeleton was recently dug up in the
ground belonging to the Fair Association
at Lexington, Kentucky. The experts
who examined the bones conclude, from
their length, that the man to whom they
belonged must have been ten. fet in
height. The skull was badly fractured,
but the jawbone was preserved, and is
twice the erdinary size of the jawbone
accorded to men in these days. From
this it is probably hot too bold a de
duction to conclude that the skeleton is
that of a female; but the sex, owing,
unfortunately, to the destruction of the
skull, is difficult to determine. One
thing seems certain, that the specimen
does not date back many centuries.
John Smith wants to know how he
shall sign his name to prevent getting
mixea up wim oiuers ot that ilk. Some
people adopt the plan of adding. "2d "
"3d," etc.; but the right appendix for
Air. mitu would be "1,634,781 l-2th"
or thereabouts, and even then he would
run some risk of being mistaken for
another John Smith.
Old and Sticky Batter.
Prof. L. B. Arnold, Secretary of the
American Dairymen's Association,
writes to the New York Tribune as fol
lows: "Of the great mass of butter
which finds its way to the general mar
ket and is reckoned as "good," the first
and most obvious defect is in an old
taste, derived, probably, from too much
or too long exposure of the cream be
fore churning. Everybody understands
the fact that butter exposed to the air
soon acquires an old and disagreeable
taste; but everybody does not seem to
appreciate the fact that cream deterior
ates the same as butter by standing
open in the air. Bat it certainly does
so, and very much more rapidly than
butter, and especially if exposed to air
which is warm, or which contains any
bad odors or vapors. Owing to the nitro
genous matter mingled with cream, it is
very susceptible to change. Exposed to
warm and damp air, cream will decay
about as much in one day as butter
would in the same situation. It is,
therefore, very easy, and certainly very
common, for butter to aoquire an old
taste by too much exposure of the cream
before churning. The surface of cream
which is exposed to the atmosphere, es
pecially to a faulty atmosphere, is all
the time changing and working toward
decay while standing for the slower par
ticles to get up and ready for the skim
mer. The longer this exposure contin
ues the greater the change and the more
is the flavor of the resulting butter af
fected. It is one of the striking advant
ages of the more modern modes of rais
ing cream that they bring it to the sur
face quickly and improve the butter by
shortening the exposure of the cream
to atniosjjheric influences. The clean
est flavored butter, that which has the
fullest, freshest and most delicious
taste, and the best keeping quality, is
now made by heating the milk to expel
objectionable odors, and then, under an
air-tight covering, lowering the temper
ature to hasten the ascent of the cream.
If cream must be exposed to the air
while rising, it will do very much
toward avoiding the old taste, so often
found in butter, to have the air in con
tact with the cream as cool as possible.
Cold retards change, and the cooler the
surface is kept the less progress toward
decay. The cooler air now sought in
modern creameries makes a marked im
provement in their butter over those
who have used cold water but warm air
in their rooms for setting milk.
Preservation of Eggs.
One of the most successful modes of
preserving eggs is that adopted by Mr.
Hulton. of Farrington Lodge, Preston,
who writes as follows: "With regard
to the preservation of eggs for future
use, the great object to be obtained is
the entire seclusion of air. This has
hitherto been generally effected by stor
ing the eggs in lime and water," or by
smearing them with oil, or by packing
them in bran, sand or sawdust; but all
these methods impart a bad flavor to the
egg. Salt is the only effectual method,
for if it imparts any flavor it is that nat
urally supplied to an egg. My first at
tempt with coarse salt on a stone slab
in the dairy failed, because the salt
melted owing to the damp, and left the
eggs exposed to the air. Ifindnowthe
best plan is to get a brick of salt, pound
it fine and dry it, then place the eggs
freshly gathered, and with the pointed
ends downward in the salt, and pack
them firmly in a box or jar; then keep
them in a dry place. Outof some hun
dreds done last year, none have been
bad; and most of them quite fit for the
table when kept not more than three
months; after that they will poach well,
and are good for culinary purposes.
The same salt used for several years is
better than new. One great conve
nience of this plan is that on opening a
box, or 4-lb. biscuit tin, containing
about 60, you are not compelled to nse
them all quickly, for each egg is isolated
in salt and remains fresh till wanted.
While writing the above I directed my
cook to try three eggs from some which
are still remaining of those put in salt
last Spring, and have consequently
been kept for more than nine months.
One of these was broken into a bowl for
poaching, quite fresh, without .odor,
and of good color. The other two were
boiled, and though opening well, with
no enlargement of the air vessel (show
ing the exclusion of air to have been
absolute), I mu3t admit tasted rather
strong, or like a 'crate egg.' This prac
tical test, however, corroborates entirely
the trath of what I have stated above,
and can not but be looked upon as a
satisfactory instance in support of this
very useful and convenient mode of the
preservation of eggs."
Poland China Hogs. The Poland
China hog is a cross of the Paland, Big
China, Irish Grazier and Bayfield, and
has now become as popular as the Berk
shire. The description of a perfect Po
land China, adopted by the National
Swine Breeders' Association, is as fol
lows: "Long in the body, short legs,
broad, straight back, sides flanking
well down on the legs, very broad, full
square ham and shoulders, small,
drooping ears, short head and wide be
tween the eyes, spotted or dark color
ed, hearty, vigorous and prolific. As
compared with the Berkshires, the most
noticeable differences are drooping in
stead of erect ears, less dish in the face,
greater liability to be marked with
spots, ribs not so sprung out, and in
very fat pigs not so much sway at the
back. Semi- Tropical.
It is said that of all creatures, the
horse has the smallest stomach relative
ly to its 6ize. Had he the complex ru
minating stomach of the ox he would
not at all times be ready for exertion.
The stomach of the horse is not so capa
cious, even when distended, as to im
pede his wind or speed, and the food
passes onward with a greater degree of
regularity than in any other animal. In
eight or ten minutes after a horse drinks
a bucket of water it has passed entirely
out of his stomach into the large intestine.
A Mother's Kiss.
What can be more beautiful and more
holy than a mother's " love what more
thrilling and more impressive than a
mother's kiss? How pure and how un
selfish is her affection, with what ecstasy
does she clasp her first darling babe to
her bosom, with what pride does she
gaze on its dreaming beauty, with what
passionate eagerness does she all bnt
smother her little one with her loving
kisses! But when, from her fond arms,
her cherished one is torn, yet warm
with her last embrace, her last kiss, and
placed beneath the cold sod, which
hides it forever from her sight, then
does it not seem as if her very life would
go with it? Mother's "last kiss" has
been the charm which has kept many a
schoolboy in the right path, when ha
had got over all other home influences.
Tom Brown, en route for Rugby, made
a bargain with his father before starting
that he was not to be subjected to the
indignity of a paternal kiss; not so, how
ever, with his mother, whose last kiss
all the racket of public school life could
never efface from his memory aud heart.
"Mother's last kiss" has proved the sal
vation of many a man, although its in
fluence has slumbered an not made
itself felt until years after t had been
imprinted on his lips lips which had
often since then been sullied and der- i
filed with blasphemy and obscenity.
But it makes itself felt now; and, as it
burns on his guilty mouth, he, forms
good resolutions, goes back to good
habits, long ago abandoned, and be
comes, by God's help, a man once more.
"A mother's kiss!" ay, though friends
forsake, and shamo brands thy brow,
mother will cling to you, her arms are
ever ready to receive you. The memory
of a mother's love and kindness, her last
fond kiss, will warm and thrill with
pure enjoyment, as some incident of the
past awakes within us the soft tones of
her dear voice, long since, perhaps, still
ed forever the memory of that kiss
will continue with us till life's pilgrim
age is done. Appletons' Journal for
July.
Power of a Dead Child. Last Tues
day afternoon Detective Pryde stepped
on board the steamer 'Maud as she
touched the levee, and approaching a
brunette leading a white poodle, poutcly
told her that she was wanted on a tele--gram
received from St. Louis.
"It's my husband," said she; "I will
wait, but he can never induce me to live
with him again."
She walked to the Worsham House
with a firm tread and her little white
poodle trotted behind her. The hus
band arrived in due time. An inter
view was arranged and took place. Mr.
Gardner approached madam with ex
tended hand, but madam would have
none of it. What did the deserted hus
band then? He knew well the path Io
the woman's heart. Tenderly and gent
ly he led her back to the little cradle
and its baby inmate in which mingled
their blood in common; thence he
brought to her mind the baby shos,
the little torn apron, the ball, the mar
ble all that remain of their idol, now
in heaven. The mother's heart, through
the little dead form and the sad picture
of the white flowers on a short coffin,
warmed again toward the father of her
boy. Her face twiehed with emotion,
and as the bright days of the honey
moon were brought back to her
thoughts, sobs shook her frame, and be
tween tears she said, "I'll return with
you." The battle was won.
Punishing Children Anna C. Brack
ett, in the American Journal of Educa
tion, calls the attention of teachers to
the liability of children to be punished
or corrected without their clearly know
ing why. "They may thus perhaps un
derstand," she adds, "what often seems
to them so incomprehensible why a
child who has been rebuked for some
disorderly conduct repeats the offense
almost immediately, giving the impres
sion of willful and malicious wrong
doing. The same mistake is frequently
made in recitations. A pupil's answer
is pronounced wrong, and the question
passd to another, when he does not
know what his error is, and often fan
cies that it lies in quite a different di
rection from that in which it really lies.
One of the most successful teachers wo
know ir almost invariably in the habit,
after having passed the question and re
ceived a correct answer, of asking the
pupil who failed: 'Why did I pass that
question?' A few trials of this simplo
interrogation will soon, we think, con
vince any teacher of the truth of what
we say. The most astonishing misun
derstandings are thus continually
brought to light, and we become con
vinced of how double-edged a thing is
this language which we use so thought
lessly and freely."
To Avoid Sleeplessness. If you
wish to sleep well, eat sparingly of late
suppers. Avoid all arguments or con
tested subjects near night, as these are
likely to have a bad effect upon one who
is troubled with sleeplessness at night.
Avoid having too much company. Many
persons become so excited with the
meeting of friends that sleep departs
for a time. There is probably nothing
better, after cultivating a tranquil mind,
than exercise in the open air. By ob
serving these simple rules, sleepless
ness, in the majority of instances, may
be cured.
Artificial flowers called hygrometers
are something novel. They are colored
with a material composed of chloride of
cobalt. When exposed to sun and dry
air the leaves become deep blue, and
when the air is moist they turn a pink
ish shade.
Olive Logan finds the greatest im
provement in the dressing of English
women since the Crystal Palace costnme
contest. A gold medal is given to tho
individual showing the handsomest cos
tume for the least money.
The handsomest bonnets are those
with the least trimming. They are
shown, from Paris, -wth a bird perched
on top anda single bow of violet under
the crown. "Only this and nothing
more."
-I V
X -:
- .,
i v
!
i-.l
i 1
i