J!
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DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF- ORECON.
VOL. 11.
OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1877.
NO. 51.
nnir
1
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O
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THE ENTERPRISE.
A L(5CAL NEWSPAPER
o
FOB T H K
rriutr,Uutliwu nun aud Family 4'ir-le
ISSUED EVEEY THUUSDAV
O .
PROrCIETOB AND FCliLLSHRK.
Official Papor for Clackamas County.
OflJoes Iu Eiiterjirive Ruililiu,
One iWr South of Masonic Building, Main Struct.
TrriuM ofKubcrlplloni
Single Copy, one year, iu advance 50
Single Copy, si t uuontbs, lu advance 1 50
Trrmt of Atlvrrtislntr 1
Traulot advertisement, including all legal
notices, per square of twelve lints, une
Week 2 50
For each subsequent lnscrtlru 100
One Column, one year 120 00
Half Column, one year : t0 00
ouarter Column, one yenr 41) (W
BusinojH Card, one square, cue year 12 00
SOCIETY NOTICES.
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F.
Meet every Thursday Evening, a
7 o'clock. In Odd Fellows' Hall, " pCJf
Main Street. Members of the OrderiitH
r
B. . U V tut. ' V . ( .1. uu
By order of
X. O.
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2,
I. O. O. F., meets on the Second and -rr-.'
FonrthTua-Jay Eveninusof each month f ' l&S
at 75 o'clock, in the Odd Fellows' Hall' :
Members of th Degree are invited ta15
attend.
FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4,
I. O. O. F., mtx-U at Odd Fellows' Hall onV
the First aud Third Tuesday of each month. OCT
Patriarchs In good standing are invited to X
atuud.
MULTNOMAH LODGE, NoTlT
r . a. ,u., u'-ius iii regular communi
cations on th i'lrnt and TliirJ Saturdays,
in h mnnth a r 7 a'aIa,!- 4 ...... 1- r..
. - . , v a 1 1 VMIl LUC I II . 1
of September to the 20th of March; and
SOth of September. Brethren in pood standing are
Invited to attend. By order of W. M.
BUSINESS CARDS
WARREN N. DAVIS. M. D.f
Physician and Surgeon,
Oraduate of the University of Pennsylvania.
Office at Cliff House.
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CAN' BY. OREGON,
IJiyiciaii and Bruggis.
Prescriptions rarefnlly filled at short nctice.
ja7-tf
PAUL BOYCE, M. D.,
1'hysicinn and Surgeon,
Obk.oox City, Obkoo.
Chroulo Disease and Diseases of Women aud
Children a specialty.
OQi Hourn day and ulht; alwavs ready when
duty " auq-.T.Ttf
o
DR. JOHN WELCH,
fflDEXTIST.a
0 OFFICE IX OREOOX CITY OUErtOX.
Highest cash price paid for County Orders.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
ATTORNEYS ani COUNSELORS AT LAW
n OltEGON CITY, OREGON.
Will practice in all the Courts of the State.
Special attention Ktvcn to cases In the I'nited
Status Land Omoe at Oregon City. Oapr'7'i-tf
L. T. BARIN,
ATTOBXEY AT LAW,
OKEOOX CITY. OnEGOX.
Will practice in all the Courts of the State
uovl, "75-tf
W. H. HICHFIELD,
KHtnbllHhocl Hluco .i j),
One door Xorth of Pope's Hall.
MAIN .ST.. )I1KU( CITY, UKK(;0.
vi.th JM.8Ortmfnt.0f wes. Jewelry, and r2L
S.th Thomas' Weight Clocks, all of which
autfKi to be as represented. tVjife
, KPirK dope on short notice; audthauktui
r.r past patronage.
1"i Hlit tor Comity 4rtlr.
JOHN M. BACON,
BOOKS, STATIONERY.M
PICTCRK FRAMES. MOCLDIXG3 AND MISCEL
LANEOUS GOODS.
IRtJIES .T1AIK T OBUtll.
Obegom Crrr, Oeecox.
V7At the Pofct Office, Malu Street, wefct side.
novl. '75-tf
J. R. GOLDSMITH.
o
Collector and Kolieitor,
PORTLAND, OREGON.
E7""Best of references given. dei25-'77
HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL,
Hubs, ftpoltcs, ISinis,
OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK.
OIlTIIKI I A- TIIOJII'SO.V,
marSl.To-tf . TortUnq. Orrg-.n.
c J. H. SHEPARD,
hoot axd sii()i:stoi:i:,
One door Xorth of Ackerman Bros.
7 Boots and Shoes made and repaired as cheap
aa the cheapest. uovl, "75-tf
MILLER. CHURCH & CO.
PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT.
At all times, it the
OREGON CITY MILLS,
And have on hand FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
market rates. Parties desiring Feed must furnish
tacks. novl2-tf
A. C. WALLINC'S
Pioneer Bool: Bindery
Plttock'a Building, cor. of Stark and Front fits.,
PORTLAND, OREO OX.
BLANK BOOKS RULED AXD BOUND TO AXY
deaired pattern. Music Bocks. Magazines,
wpapers. etc.. bound lu every variety of style
anown to the trade. Orders from the country
prompt:, attended to. novl. "75-tf
OREGON CITY BREWERY.
t.rlli8 Pnrcned the above Brewery, rEE59a
e inform the public that ther afe'rffiESSj
P" to manufacture a X'o. 1 ttgg3f
Ai aanA OF LAGER BEER,
q" P. ",ef1 obuined anywhere in the State.
Uclud and promptly nned."
o
AWLF.i:i OX MOOT WASHINGTON.
t-lTIX LABCQM.
Upon the mountalns's storniy brua&t,
I lay me down and xank to rett ;
I felt the wind thrill of the blast.
DeUned and welcomed as it pusod.
And made my lullaby the psalm
Of strifo that meets lminartal calm.
Cradled and rocked by wind and cloud.
Safe pillowed on the summit proud.
Steadied by that encircling arm
Which holds the universe from harm,
I know the Lord my soul will keep
Upon his mountain-tops asleep.
CHILDHOOD.
JULIA C. JONK3 .
Merry and Joyous, loving and gay.
Laughing so sweetly this fair summer day ;
Plucking each flowerlet for mere casting down,
Stniliun thro" weepins, with never a frown ;
Contented with littl anil nricj liouijLt mora.
Pleasure thy guide, and love tby sole lore
Happy in living, ay, happy in health,
Richest in giviug nor hoarding thy wealth ;
Xo thought of the future, no pain for the past.
The pruHeut but charms, by no clouds overcast;
Mirth is thy couirad. and music and fov.
Kach day brings new pleasures that have no alloy;
o tor mc morrow lor iooa or ror home.
Thou thaukest but Ood for his gltts as they come
O Childhood I O Childhood I How blest is thy
time !
Like bells from the steeples that so sweetly chime!
Kver joyous aud happy, no stain and no blot
To sully youth s paye to dim its bright lot;
Like a brook to the river thy youug life shall go.
The rippling be lost in manhoods btern flow.
Grave duties await thee to tame down thy heart.
Great hopes shall elate thee yet lowly thy part.
Sadness and i-igbin in Manhood thou'lt know.
Weary life's ebbing, and weary its flow I
Yet keep the fair pages of thy Childhood and
Youth.
Unrestrained and unsullied, clear, fair as the
Truth.
A GHOST BY DAYLIGHT.
BY T. Z. TIMBKRBLAKE.
It is almost useles to tell you the sto
ry, because I know you "will not believe
it, I have not alluded to the circum
stances for the last twenty years, and I
quite intended never to speak of them
again; but whatever you may think, I
will tell you truly and censcientiously
what occurred. Twenty years ago I was
a very young man. Like most young
men, I was hard up. I had just passed
my final examination, and had been
duly dubbed a lawyer. One day, as I
was anxiously reading the pages of the
Law limes, looking out for something
to do, I came across an advertisement,
setting forth in glowing language the
fact, that, in a country town, there was
a small lawyer's practice (capable of
great extention by an energetic young
man, the advertisement averred) which
was to be sold for a mere trille. In
those days I had greater confidence in
my own abilities than I have at present,
and the perusal of this "legal fiction"
(for 1 can call it nothing else) fired my
young imaginations. I saw myself in
stalled in a cheerful and business-like
office, overlooking a quaint old-fashioned
street, and shaded by tall trees grow
ing at the back of the house. I imagin
ed myself as the Register of the County
Court, and the recejtacle of the family
secrets of all the families for miles
around. I said to myself that I was not
ambitions, that I cared little for the
worry and anxiety of the busy town. A
quiet, useful country life, the esteemed
friend of tie clergy, the husband of a
lovely wife these were my desires, and
they all seemed to me to be included
within the six-line paragraph in the
newspaper.
To hesitate was to lose the chance of
a lifetime. Therefore I at once wrote to
the address indicated in the sdvertise
ment. After a considerable amount of
correspondence, I became the purchaser
of the practice; and after paying for it,
found myself with twenty-five dollars
cash and thousands in imagination. I
decided that it would be unwise to let
tho grass grow under my feet; and so,
without losing anytime, I packed up all
my earthly treasures (which I found
would go easily within the compass of
my valise) , and started for my destina
tion. In about an hour I arrived at a pretty
looking cotintry station, where I alight
ed. I immediately went to the lodgings
I had previously secured; und after be
ing delighted with their cieauliiiess and
neatness, I saliied forth to inspect my
office. In a few minutes I arrived at the
place, and was ushered into my premis
es by a voting and very light-haired
clerk, who kindly gave up his pastime
of sliding down the banisters, to show
me over the ofhees. Here, too, every
thing looked clean and business-like,
and the number of bundles and papers
ostentatiously displayed all over the of
fice, filled me with bright pictures of
the future. Having completed my sur
vey I wont to see tho town. Here, at
least, mv visions were fulfilled. The
loner, straprcling street planted with
trees, and terminating in a large square
filled with farmers and agricultural 1m
plements, was almost exactly what I
had imagined in mv daydreams. Turn
ing down a quiet and narrow side street,
I found myself in front of a splendid
church, round which clustered old-
fashioned cottasres and houses. The
town was everywhere interspersed with
trees, and the whole place, lighted up
as it was by the warm glotv of the set
ting sun, looked simplv charming.
The next day was Sunday, so I went
to church. The interior was no doubt
quite equal to the exterior, which had
impressed me so much on the previous
evening; but I did not notice it. The
singing of the surpliced choir, was, I
daresay, excellent; but I did not join in
it (although my voice was an excellent
tenor at that time). The sermon was.
I have little doubt, an excessively tell
ing ana practical one, but 1 did not lis
ten to it; for, to tell you the truth, a
great cnange uad come over me since I
arrived. I had fallen in love. She was
sitting opposite to me, dressed entirely
in olacK. 1 cannot describe ner to you,
o.nd I would not if I could, because
whatever impression my words might
convey to you, it would fall so short of
of the picture in my mind that l should
hate myself for having slandered her to
you. But her sweet pale face, and the
trraceful outline of her figure so im
pressed me, and called up all the good
feelines in my nature, that without
waiting to inquire wbtat the deep crape
she were meant, or whether her affec
tions were in any way previously occu
pied, without the slightest hesitation, I
gave her all my love. Ah, it's a long
time ago!
Sitting at my dinner and thinking
over the events of the morning, I came
to tho conclusion that it was the duty of
very man, and especially of a country
lawyer, to go to church; and according
ly, contrary to my usual custom, I again
went to church in tho evening. She
was thera. I forgot the text. After ser
vice, as Iliad nothing jiarticular to do,
I followed her home. She knocked at
a large and handsome house; and after
she had been admitted by a man servant.
1 casually walked past the door in an
unconcerned manner, and noticed "Dr.
Stanton" engraved on the plate. Then I
turned in for the night; and the .follow
ing day I settled down to work; but I
grieve to say that the matter uppermost
in my mind was how to obtain an intro
duction to Dr. Stanton. At length I
accomplished this. I forget exactly
how it was done, but it is easy enough,
as you know, in a country town. The
doctor was a very agreeable man, and
had a large practice; and after a week or
so of nodding and chatting about the
weather, the crops and the ministry, he
asked me to dinner.
Well, I went to dine -with the doctor
and was duly introduced to his niece,
Clara Stanton. She was still in black,
and appeared low spirited; but she re
ceived me very kindly, and during the
coufse of tho evening we had a pleasant
chut together. She was well read, not
at all bashful, and as I happened to
have just finished reading a book in
which she was particularly interested,
we began talking at once. Miss Stan
ton, I could see, was interested iu tho
conversation, and brightened up consid
erably, so that on my leaving she ex
pressed a wish that I would lend her
the book we had been chatting about,
which, as you may imagine, I was only
too happy to do, especially as it made
such a good excuse for calling again.
The doctor was to all appeaaances very
well pleased, nd hoped he would see
me there often. I said I hoped he
would.
As time went on, I discovered that
Miss Stanton was an orphan, and had
very little money of her own. The doc
tor was her guardian, and appeared ex
cessively fond of her. I was a constant
visitor at the house, and my love in
creased more and more each day. Ciara
always appeared pleased to see me, and
by a thousand little wavs showed an es
pecial interest in me. And so a year
passed by. 1 was happy in my love.
and I was young; and the love and the
happiness were quite sufficient to coun
terbalance the anxiety that I suffered in
another direction.
That business was a delusion and a
snare, x was an energetio young man.
but I did not extend my practice. Not
that it was my fault; I should have ex
tended the practice if there had been
a practice to extend, but unfortunately
there wasn't. The light-haired youth.
who. I subsequently discovered, pos
sessed the quality of lightness in his
head and fingers as well as his hair,
gave me a most impressive and solemn
warning at the end of a week, and left
me alone in my glory a month after my
arrival. The papers turned out on ex
amination to be as deceptive as the
youth. I grieve to expose the hollo w-
ness of mankind, out tnose papers were
simply and emphatically dummies.
Like conjuring tricks, when you once
knew them "there was nothing in
them." And consequently my visions,
(as most pleasant visions do) faded
away, and at the end of twelve months I
found myself minus money, plus love.
I determined to put an end to this un
satisfactory state of affairs one way or
other. Therefore one evening when I
was alone with Clara I told her how I
loved her. Miss Stanton seemed almost
bewildered when first it dawned upon
her that I wished her to be my wife:
then, when she fully understood my
meaning in a kind and yet firm manner
she declined my proposals, adding that
I had been a good friend to her ever
since we were first acquainted, and she
regretted that I had misconstrued ac
tions, which she had intended merely as
tokens of good will, into hopes that she
could ever regard me with any warmer
feelings than those of a friend. She
told me (and I can remember to this
day how her beauty and grief affected
me) that she had for some years been
engaged to be married to a young officer
in the navy, but that he had recently
been drowned during a heavy storm
which his ship encountered. She ex
plained to me that he was the person
for whom she always wore mourning,
and in broken accents told me how she
could never love another. After this I
could of course say nothing further to
her; and upon apologizing for my want
of thought in not first ascertaining how
it was she always appeared in black, I
left her with feelings which, thank
Heaven, one does not often experience.
Miss Stanton's refusal of mv offer.
coupled witn the extremely discourag-
mg nature oi my ousiness, induced me
to make up my mind to leave the town
without any delay. The business was
not worth anything, and so I had no
trouble on my mind as regards dispos
ing of it.
One morning, a few days after the
event I have just related, I was settling
up a few old things in the office previous
to my departure, wnen ur. oianion was
announced. He entered, and seeing
the nature of my preparations, he said:
"AVhy, you do not meau to say you
are going to leave us?"
"Yes." I answered, "I am. The law
is all very well, but if you don't have
any of the profits to counterbalance its
nroverbial delay, you fare rather badly.
I've eiven this place a fair trial for
. ,, -r j 'i i: T 1
twelve moniusfc a uuu l patnuuiauji
care about the business. I have gained
a good experience by the affair, and at
twenty-four one need not De downneari
ed. I don't mind about the business.'
"Then what do vou mind about ?" in
quired the doctor; "for it is easy to see
by your manner that there is something
the matter witn you.
I could not deny it; and as I felt hor
ribly downhearted and troubled, made
u clean breast and told the doctor all
about it.
He started, and I thought, turned a
little pale at my story; but quickly re
covering himself, he answered in a
kindly manner: "I am very sorry; I
wish you had consulted me first. But,
however, least said on snch a subject as
this is soonest mended. J shall not per
suade you to stay iu the town after
what has occurred; bnt.for all that, you
can nndcrdate for me the business on
which I have called. I have of ten re
gretted that I have been unable to heli
you in your business; but at length I
can put something in your way, bv
which you can easily make a couple
of hundred or so."
"It's like my luck," I answered, "If
this had only come a month ago? Hov.
ever, I will do all I can to help you,
doctor, anl thank you over and over
again for all your kindness to me ?"
We shook hands sympathetically, and
then the dootor told me his business.
He said that a friend of his had lately
died, having a large property, which
had descended to him, he being the
only male representative of the family
surviving. But he explained to me that
there were several distant relations, who
were far from being well off; and as the
property had come to him unexpected
ly, he had decided to sell it all, and then
divide the proceeds between the poorer
relations, of course taking a fair share
himself.
I complimented him on his generosi
ty, but he cut me short by saying:
"This place is situated more than two
hundred miles from here. Yhat 1 want
you to do is to go at once and make all
arrangements about the sale of the pro
perty, and particularly to get a valuer
to go over it with you. You shall have
the deeds on your return to get the le
gal part of the affair ready."
Then giving me the names of some
first-class auctioneers, Dr. Stanton de
parted. Olad to do anything which might di
vert my thoughts from the painful sub
ject upon which they were concentrated,
I at once started. It was late at night
when I arrived there; and as nothing
could be done then, I immediately went
to bed. Next morning I called upon
the auctioneers and explained my busi
ness. They could not go with me then
to survey the property, but we made an
arrangement for the ensuing day; and
as I did not know a soul in the place
and had nothing to do, I said, if they
"tf A A il t -W m -m
wouia uirect me to me nouse, i would
go and look over it. They gave me the
keys, which were in their possession;
and after a pleasant four miles' drive I
reached my destination. Then I drew
up at a substantially built lodge. The
gate was opened by an old man, who in
formed me, in answer to my inquiry,
that there was no one in the house. I
drove up a long winding carriage drive,
and at length pulled up in front of a
large square old fashioned mansion sit
uated in what I may almost call a dell,
inasmuch, as the garden and park rose
up on all sides round the house and
were thickly wooded with shrubs. The
whole looked deserted and forlorn, and
the bright hot mid summer sun, which
shone with great power and heat, seem
ed rather to add to the loneliness than
otherwise.
I placed the key in the door and with
some difficulty turned it. The door
swung back on its hinges with a harsh
grating sound, and involuntarily I felt
a horrible feeling of loneliness come
over me. Almost instinctively I turned
round; nothing met my eyes but the
quiet country bathed in sunshine, and
then, laughing at myself for my coward
ice, I entered the house and closed the
door after me. It was completely fur
nished; but all the furniture and chan
daliers were covered, and the carpets
were rolled up in a corner. I wandered
on from the hall to the dining room,
then into the drawing room, my foot
steps echoing through the whole build
ing. I was making memoranda in my
pocket book of things I wanted to ask
the auctioneer. I can remember the
whole scene as though it was only yes
terday, and I swear tnat I had my senses
fully about me. I looked at my watch
and found it was half-past tQlvt?; then
I went up the lonely stairs aud stood on
the landing. Opposite to me was a long
corridor of bed room doors, at the end
of which another passage crossed it at
right angles. There was little light in
the passage I was looking down; but the
other passage was lighted by some win
dows which were out of sight, so that
the end of the passage in which I was
standing was brightly illuminated.
No sooner had I ascended the stairs
and noticed the particulars I have be
fore mentioned when suddenly I felt an
involuntarily repetition of the feeling I
had experienced at the door, and by
some horrible fascination my attention
was fastened on the light at the end of
the passage, and, good Heaven, I saw
Clara Stanton come out of one of the
bed rooms and walk down the passage !
I felt ray heart give one great leap into
my mouth, and then it seemed to stop
beating. My blood rushed all through
me with a hot flush, and then I was cold
a3 stone. I grasped the banister for
support and looked again. There was
no mistaking it. Clara Stanton was
walking slowly down the dark passage.
Presently she emerged into the light
part at the end, and turned her face to
wards me. I have told you that she
always looked sad; but the utter misery
and wretchedness on her face at that
moment I shall never forget. Slowly
she passed across the end of the pas
sage, and then the wall hid her and she
was gona.
Soon my senses returned to me, and
shouting "Clara! Clara!" I ran to the
bedroom door from which I had seen
her come. I had expected to find it
open; but it was locked, although I
know I had seen her come through it.
Again the supernatural dread caught
hold of me, and without a moment's
thought I ran out of the house. It was
hours before I recovered my equanimi
ty, and even then nothing would have
again persuaded me to have anything
to do with that lonely house, and so by
the next train I returned.
The following day I sent a note over
to Dr. Stanton, and asked him to call
at my office; but the messenger returned
with a reply to the effect that the doc
tor was uDable to come. Miss Stanton
had died suddenly on the previous day.
My feelings had been so wrought upon,
that I can hardly say the news surprised
me, although you may imagine my sor
row. I immediately hastened to tin
doctor, and found the gotnl man in the
greatest trouble. I told him what had
h tppened to me, and he turned as white
as a sheet.
For some moments he could hardly
speak. At length he managed to asK
um if I recollected the time when I had
seen Miss Stanton. I told him half-past
twelve at noou.
"That's exactly the time she died,"
he on-ttvered.
Then he told me her story. The prop
erty which had descended to the doctor
belonged the young naval officer she
had loved. They had known each other
from childhood, anal were fondly de
voted. When the young man came of
age they were formerly engaged. It
had been arranged that her lover should
go for one more voyage beforo they
were married, and that voyage was his
last; for he had been drowned, as I have
before told you, and Clara had been
heart-broken ever since. The doctor
knew she was ill, but had no idea how
dangerously. The day she had died,
and on which I saw her spirit, was the
anniversary of the day on which she
had heard of her lover's death.
There is nothing more to tell. The
doctor sold the property, but I had
nothing to do with it. What it was I
saw, I don't know; why I saw it, I don't
know; but never assert that it is impos
sible for a ghost to appear by daylight.
I know it is possible, because I've seen
one.
The Child and the Star.
About three years ago a gentleman of
the city went Bast on a visit. He re
turned to the old homestead, and then
sought out the homes of brothers and
sisters married and settled down in his
native town. One of the brothers had
a bright and beautiful little son, notyet
two years of age. The boy little Ben
nie young as he was. soon became
strongly and strangely attached to his
" Uncle Ben, from Washoe," whose
namesake he was. He would have noth
ing to do with his father or mother, nor
any other member of the family, when
his Uncle Ben was present.
Although he could talk but little, the
child understood almosteverythingthat
was said to him or in his presence, and
was eloquent with his eyes.
Uncle Ben often took the little fellow
in his arms in the pleasant summer
evenings and, seated on the porch, talk
ed him to sleep. At such times he
would point out the evening star, telling
the boy that far, far away, just under
that star, was his home. The child
would look long at the star, then for as
long gaze up in the face of his uncle, as
though thinking in what a bright and
beautiful place his home must be.
At last the day came when Undo Ben
was to leave for his home in the far
West. Little Bennie knew this us well
as any one about the house, and, with
both eyes and ears, was on tho alert.
He would not allow his uncle to bo a
minute out of his sight. - Several at
tempts on the part of Uncle Ben to steal
away resulted in such fits of crying that
ho was obliged to return and soothe the
child.
However, the child, wearied with cry
ing and watching, at last fell .asleep in
his uncle's arms. When he awoke Un
cle Ben was far away.
Long the boy looked for his uncle,
and often called his name. Many times
of evenings he was found gazing earn
estly at the bright star that stood as a
guard over his uncle's home. As he
rew, his love of the star deepened, aud
he trtlked more and more of it and of
his uncle, both so fur away at tho edge
of the sky.
Even when three years had passed,
and Bennie was nearly five years old,
his beiief in the story told him by his
uncle continued. .
Poor boy ! another year was never
added to his age. It was his fate to die
a fearful death. By accident he was
scalded over nearly his whole body and
lived but four hours.
He seemed to read in the faces of the
dear ones about him that he must soon
die. He bore his pain manfully, only
uttering an occasional moan.
As the shades of evening deepened he
was seen to turn his face anxiously to
ward the window of his roon. At last
he asked: "Is it there the star?"
ne was told that the star was there
and shining brightly.
Feebly he said: "Take me to the win
dow." Ha was carritd to the window. A
smile lighted up his face and he said,
"Ah, there it is! Now I can find the
way to Uncle Ben can see his star."
He closed his eyes as though wearied.
The smile faded out of his face. One
moan, as he was laid on the bed, and
the light of his life had gone out and
up to meet and mingle with that of the
star he so long had watched and loved.
Dan. De Quille.
Shrink not from a woman of strong
sense, for if she becomes attached to
you, it is from seeing and reviewing dif
ferent qualities in yourself; you may
trust her. for she knows the value of
your confidence; you may consult her,
for she is able to advise, and does so at
once, with the firmness of reason and
the consideration of affection. Her love
is lasting, and it will not have been
lightly won, for weak minds are not ca
pable of the loftiest praise.
The king of Sweden has sent to
America for a cabinet organ, but it is
understood that strong efforts will be
made to peade him to take an'accor
deon insteau. No opportunity to get
one of those abominations out of the
country should be missed. Worcester
The Importance of Feeding Cattle
Systematically.
A corresjjondent of the Rural Sun
gives his experiments in feeding cattle
as follows: ' If they are sometimes
stuffed and at others starved, they will
go through the process of 'eating off
their heads.' In feeding meal I always
want it ground fine, as my uperieuce
is that three bushels of fine meal is
equal to four ground coarse, though
an overfeed of fine meal will scour woe
than the coire. This the feeder
mut guard against. Always give each
a box by himnelf, so you know he eats
what you feed liiin. and always accus
tom them to being lied up from calves; if
this is not convenient when you begin to
feed, tie them up at nifiht, and let them
run loose in the lot of tiny. Kep
them well bedded, and never allow a
hog iu their stall, or you will lose much"
of the manure they make, and that with
me is a big item. When your stalls be
gin to get too hot to be healthy, clean
out and haul direct to where you may
want to use the manure. In commenc
ing to feed, if you intend to feed five or
six months, don't feed too heavy at the
start, but gradually increase so as not
to cloy them, as it is difficult to make
profit on one that has been overfed or
foundered. For two years past I have
been turning mine off at two to two and
a half years old, t from SGSto 78, an.t
always with satisfaction to myself and
all parties who handled them. I once
tried a three-year-old scrub steer until
he was four years old with a lot of young
grades. The grades made a gain of 615
pounds each in ten months and two
days, and the scrub made 423 in the
same time; and through the feeding sea
son he ate three pounds more meal per
day than any other in the lot, and I
think full as much hay, though that
was not weighed. He weighed at
four years old 14GG pounds, and sold at
4 cents per pound, while the two and
two and half years old averaged over
1400 pounds and sold at 5 cents. In feed
ing a few rutabagas are a great help. Hay
and corn-fodder ed alternately are bet
ter than either alone. In my opinion, no
farmer who feeds grade shorthorns ju
diciously, and takes caie to get the ben
efit of manure, will never need credit.
As for scrubs, fight phy of them, for if
the market is dull and slow you are com
pelled to sell for less than they cost you,
and seldom, under any circumstanees, at
a profit.
Japanese Faiiming. We have a Jap
anese field before us, in the middle of
October, with nothing but buckwheat
upon it. The buckwheat is planted in
rows, twenty-four to twenty-six inches
apart, the intervening now vacant space
had been sown in spring, with small
white turnip radishes, which have al
ready been gathered. These intervening
vacant spaces are now tilled with the hoe
to the greatest depth attainable by the
implement. A portion of the fresh earth
is raked from the middle np to the
buckwheat, which is now in full flower;
a furrow is thus formed in the middle,
in which rape is sown, or the gray win
ter pea, the seed being manured in the
manner already described, and seed and
manure afterward covered with a layer
of earth. By the time the rape or
the peas have grown one or two inches
high, the buckwheat is ripe for cutting.
A few days after, the rows in which it
stood are dug up, cleared and sown
with wheat or winter turnips. Thus
crop follows crop the whole year
through. The nature of tho preceding
crop is a matter of indifference, the se
lection of the succeeding one being de
termined by the store of nature, the
season and the requirements of the
farm . If there is a deficiency of
manure, the intervening rows are al
lowed to lie fallow until a sufficient
qnantity has been collected for them.
Pen nod Plow.
Carbolic Soap f.k Insects. A few
days since I tried an experiment with
carbolic soap in killing insects upon
greenhouse plants, particularly th
Kreen fly (Aphis), whom, as everybody
knows, is ii great pet, and not rea lily
destroy ed, except by f urinigation with
tobacco not a very agreeable ope ration
to perform upon parlor plants, or in a
conservatory attached to a dwelling.
My first experiment with this soap was
a decided success, operating upon 200
roses just in bloom, and it was conduct
ed as follows: Into a pail of warm water
I put a lump of soap the size of a small
hen's egg. The soap was "cut up into
pieces, and the water agitated until it
was all dissolved, forming a warm suds.
The water should not be too hot, but if
not above 120 degrees or thereabout, it
will do no harm. Int t this suds each
rose-bush was plunged (holding the pot
inverted in the hand), and kept there
about half a minute. After plunging,
the plants were set aside for a few min
utes, then dipped in the same way into
clean water, shaking them about" thor
oughly, washing the leaves, and then
returned to their proper place in the
house. Whether it "was the soap or
warm water that killed the great fly I
will not say, but there is one thing cer
tain, they are all dead. Rurul Xeuo Yur
ker. Keefixq Sheep. There is more profit,
on the average, in keeping sheep in
this country than in any other country
on the globe. With the exception of
Holland aud Belgium, the annual weight
in flesh of America exceeds that of any
other country. In those two countries
the average weight is sixty pounds; in
America fifty-two pounds. But owing
to the higher price received here for
wool, the annual revenue from each
sheep here is just double that in Bel
gium, and nearly double that in Hol
land. The annual revenue here- is $2.1G,
on the average"; Australia is next
highest, $1.00; Spain next. SI. 45. On
ly five other countries exceed one dol
lar, and in Russia and Greece its reven
ue is only forty-two cents. The average
weight, as well as the price, will be large
ly increased when the vast flocks of
coarse wooled sheep in the West have
been bred np to the condition they un
doubtedly will be in a few years from
nuw.
"warn ii iiiTqm lj.a?gCf-.J"
Marriage Vows.
The corner-stone of marriage, it is
presumed, is laid as the foundation of a
future temple which Mill be the monu
ment of felicity and constancy. The
bride and groom standing under the
floral marriage bell, beside the altar
rail and befort the surpliced priest, the
gathered throng who witness the solemn
ceremony, fully believe that courtship's
vows and lovets' pledges of fidelity and
faithfulness are being ratified in the
holy rite of m trim ny.
It is often forgotten that hymeneal
love is variously defined by individuals;
ta.ih has a diff -rent iuterpretaV'on of its
scaucity, depth and strength Upn
the right explanation depend ontent
and bliss; upon tho.wvont there iollows
misery and regret. ilrriag t,o i,I.sn.
represents sordid interest, selfish pur
poses, au advancement of personal ele
vation or of ex dtation ! There are wo
men whounhesitatingly sell themselves,
as if they were iu the slave market, to
tho highest bidder who will bestow up
on them a luxurious home with rich
apparel. Oaly that ardent alt u-.hment,
which finds its paradise i-i the com
panionship of the best bol-jved and
dearest one on earth, will receive the
beautiful recompense of unalloyed
blessedness and pure happiness. To
avoid a serious mistake of the heart, to
prevent the charming dream from be
ing exchanged for sore dissapointment,
precaution must be taken to understand
the real emotion, to comprehend entire
ly its evident meaning.
" The awaking after marriage to find
that love was masked is the ordeal and
trial of many unsuspicious husbands
and innocent wives, either of whom may
hold the cherished name without its
qualifications or endearments; no twin
spirits, only the victims of credulity
and folly. ,
The stability and immutability ot
connubial affection are centered in that
absorption that forms of the pair an un
divided heart, all to each other m this
world, death being merely a brief sepa
ration, to be reunited agaiu in the world
of redeemed spirits, where angels have
wafted on their white wings a glowing,
undying devotion that will live once
more in boundless, celestial glory.
Ida Lewis axd Hek FASHiox.vBt.K
Sister. On my last day I had a sail
and a fish all alone in the bay, and 1
improved the occasion to pay my re
spicts to Miss Ida Lewis, the heroine
who has saved over a dozen lives at sea
amid storms before which the bravest
quailed, and where stout-hearted men
did not dare to venture. Miss Lewis is
no longer young, and she has anhonest,
weather-beaten face, but her manners
are graceful and those of a lady quiet,
natural and unassuming. She converses
easily, and only talks of herself when
questioned. I was sorry to hear from
her that her health was failing her. 1
heard from other sources that she had
married not long ago, and been disap
pointed in her choice. I could not but
feel for her great pity, united to the
greatest respect. The evening before I
had seen one of those silken, unnatural,
rich women of fashion, such as they
, i cittinir in her chariot.
nave at e , r
arrayed in her laces, flounces, ribbons
. 1 1 . ,r Artrr in ll Al
and diamonds, wuu a uvj " ,
. m. , 4i, a nMrt evidently of
iair, taper uiuw, - j". - - -
her tenderesl solicitude, and, the day
before that, another woman in a rail
road car traveling about with a cat.
And here was this good, quiet, brave
thft livelons year
off in the rocks, shut off for most ot the
year from any society except her moth
er, yet contented and happy in tbe prac-
tice ot duty. Keeping uruvo
suffering, and putting out in her boat
thronerh tne raging sioi u-, rrx..-0
own life to save the lives of those who
were utter strangers to her. end all the
while bearing her honors as meekly as if
she had been some simple viU.ve
maiden Conrier-JournaCs A export L -t-Ur.
A Righteous Jcdoeitext. J udgo
Smith, of N-w OrWu-, has recently de
livered an extrajudicial, but seemingly
righteous decision. James Cnzentre,
u ho has a w ife an I several children,
couit-d Maggie Kern's younger sister
assuming the name of Joe Wasrner, and
representing himself s a single man.
When the older sister heard that he was
a married man, and was goini? about
among his friends boasting of his new
conquest, she lay in wait for him, threw
lime or fluur in his face, and then
knocked him down. The gay deceiver
applied for an order of arrest, but the
Judge discharged the assilant with these
words: "You have done just what you
should do. As for this man, I have seen
much of huniau nature, but never iu my
life have I seen so much meauness in so
little of God's make. There. is a man
who assumes a name and represents
himself as a single man, makes love to
an unprotected young lady, and when
her sister discovers that he is a fraud,
she punishes him herself because she
has no one to do it for her. He has the
impudence to call in a court of justice
and ask for redress. I am sorry that the
law does not permit me to punish him
as he ought to be. If you had beat him
more severely, he would have got just
what he deserves."
A Welsh engineer has invented an en
gine of warfare which consists of a can
non so arranged as to discharge a sharji
sword blade crosswise in the direction
of the enemy, the knife being so poised
in its course through the air as to cover
the whole space in a longitudinal direo
lion described by the blade itself. An
8-inch ball would ctory a sword 14 feet
in length COO yards, mowing down
every obstacle in its path.
AS10.000 Scrscbiptiox. A Seranton,
Pennsylvania, business house, which
was asked by a miners' committee to con
tribute to their relief fund, very gen
erously offered to assign to the fund
10,000 in accounts due them by min
ers, which accounts they have been for
years unable to collect. The subscrip
tion was declined with thanks.
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