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About Oregon City enterprise. (Oregon City, Or.) 1871-188? | View Entire Issue (Nov. 22, 1877)
o o i i DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. tr j 'A o 1 V YOL. 111. THE ENTERPRISE. I A LOCAL NEWSPAPER fOB T H X rrwr, Uuiinct Man null l'amll.r ( ii clc ISSUED EVERY THIKSD.VY YROPBrETGR AND PCBLISHBK. Official Paper for Clacliauias County. O iiie : 1 11 Enterprise KnH.liii-, One door South of Masonic Building, Main Street. f Tfrina of Kubvcripliou: Siutfle Copy, one year, in advance JO Single Copy, bix mouths, iu advance 1 50 Term of Al-rUinit T--sint aJvtrtlv . ien., ' lu i :g i; !oai noticed, ler aqiiaro of twelve liiit-s, one week t Fr eachubsequent insertion 100 One Column, one year 120 00 Half Column, one year 60 IK) Quarter Column, one year 40 00 &usines Card, one square, cue year 12 00 SOCIETY NOTICES. OREGON LODGE, No. S, ileets every Thursday Evening. t----. 7 o'clock, in Odd i ellows' Mall, v -"W 1 Main Street. Members of the Order jtQ; ara invited to attend. By order of X. G. REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2, I. O. O. meets on the Second and Fourth Tuewlny Evenines of each month, at o'clock. In the Odd Fellows' Hall., Member of the Degree are invited to attend. FALLS ENCAMPMENT, No. 4, 1. u. u. r ., ineeis at UJU fellows Mall on i the First and Third Tuesday of each mnth TV7 Patriarchs in good standiii;; are iuvited to' it tend. MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1. 1 v i. ir 1. , 1 1 1 . . , . 1 . .1 ji., iiuiu.i nt regular communi- q cations oil the First ami Tlilrd Saturdays A in each month, at 7 o'clock from the 'JOth ' v r or September to the 'Jnta of March and :H o'clock from the 2(th of Mnr.-h ,,' i, "'i"-"!"". uiriurrii in jjoou sianaiuif are tuvltej to attend. Hy order of V. M. BUSINESS CAHDS. WARREN N. DAVIS, M. D., I'liysioiaii and Surgeon, Graduatuof tlie I'niven-ity of Pennsylvania. Otvur. at Clikf Hot; kg. CHARLES KNIGHT, CAXBT, OREGON, Physician ami Druggist. SPr-riptions carefully filled at short notice. ja7-tf PAUL GOYCE, M. D.f riiysician aisd Surgooai. C)rehon City, Onr.dos-. Chronic Diseases and Diseases of Women and Children a specialty. Office Hourd day and night; always ready when iu,yc11''- aus-Jo.Tfi-tf- DR. JOHN WELCH, DEXTTST.a OFFICE IX OREGOXCITY OREGON'. Higlteat cash price paid for County Orders. JOHNSON & McCOWN, ATTORNEYS and COUNSELORS AT LAW OUEGOX CITY. OREGON. Will practice in all the Courts of the Slate. Special attention given to cases in the I nited sullen Land Ofhce at Oregon City. .1apr"72-tf O L. T. BARIN, VlTOItMlY AT I,UV, OREGON CITY, OREGON. Will practice iu all the Courts of the state, novl, '75-tf W. H. HICHFIELD, stabiuijf.,! Ml 11 00 -ti, One door North of Pope's Hall, MAIN T.. OKF.UOX CI TV. UKKUOX. bJih ."Ti? f ?. Jewelry, and , . "&-' ciocKs, ail or which LJ, .d 0 ,)e ""Presented. for . I. . 8 aon" on Hhort '"'the; and thauKiul ior pist patronage. li raid lor County Wrilert. JOHN M. BACON, BOOKS, STATIONERY, PICTCRE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MISCEL LANEOUS GOODS. MIDI: TO OIU I:. OliEOOX ClTT, OHEUOX. the Post Office. Main Street, west side. . novl, "T"-tf J. R. GOLDSMITH, OEM2UAL :v TZ w I . V 1 i : X 5 Collector and Solicitoa. PORTLAND, OI1F.GON. C7"15cst c f references given. Jt'25-"77 HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL, o IB ubs, Spokes. lSim, OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PLANK. UltTIIItl.I A- THOMPSON, tuar31,'76-tf rovtland, Or-g..n. J. H. SHEPARD, On door North of Ackerman Bros. KBooU and Shoes made and repaired as rhta'i aa the cheapest. novl. "75-tf MILLER, CHURCH & CO. PA7 THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT. At all times, at the OREGON CITY MILLS, And have on band FEED and FLOUR to sell, at market rates. Parties desiring Feed must furnish tacks. covl'i tf A. C. WALLING'S IMoiiecr Book J3iiuleiv Pittock'a Building, cor. of Stark and Front Sts.. PORTL.4XI), ORCGOV, BLANK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND TO ANY desired pattern. Music Bocks, Magazines, wapapers. etc., bound In every variety of atyle taowu to the trade. Orders from the country tromptly attended to. novl, 75-tf OREGON CITY BREWERY. ITtn purchased the above Brewery, $E3a'k ina to Inform the public that thev arep-Sj aTllryt8tM'd 10 ttHrftiw lggSSaSi .c0r LAGER BEER. CrT obtained anywhere In the State, lm ult3 and promptly filled. 'A MTTLE LUUHTKR. BY II. C. BUNSIIl. Deep in our nature God hath set the fount. Sweet and mysterious, whereof joy ia born; It is bis Land that teaches smiles to mount To lips that long hath known but how to mourn. Our pleasures are not idle in his Bight; Our laughter not unwelcomed to hia ears; He gave the tears of woe to dim our sight ; lie also gave the emiles to dry the toars. And lie is King of this world's pain and grief Who by the roadside plucks God's flowers of joy ; Who only looks t o find the withered leaf Shall find the cold that did that leaf destroy. And the world crowns with chaplets green and fair, Tbo brave sweet souls that smile and conquer care. I .MKK THE VIOLET. llr.r hands are cold ; her face is white ; No more her pulses couie and go ; Her eyes are shut to life and light Fold on white vesture, snow on snow. And lay her where the violets blow. But not beneath a graven stone, To plead ior tears with alien eves; A sleuder cross of wood alone Shall say that here a maiden lies. In peace beneath the peaceful skies. And gray old trees of hugest limb Shall wheel their circling shadows round To make the scorching sunlight dim That drinks the greenness from the ground. And drop their dead leaves on her mound. When o'er their boughs the squirrels ruu. And through their leaves the robins call. And ripening in the autumu sun The acorns and the chestnuts fall. Doubt Hot that she will heed them alt. For her the morning choir shall sing Its matins from the branches high. And every minstrel-voice of spring That thrill beneath the April sky Shall greet her with its earliest cry. When turning round their dial-track. Eastward the lengthening shadows pa Her litttle mourners, clad in black. The crickets sliding through the grasc. shall piep for her an caning mass. At last the rootlets of the trees Shall And the prison where she lies, Aud bear the buried dust they seize In leaves and blossoms to th skies, so may the soul that warmed it rise ! If ai,y, born of kindlier blood. Should ask. What maiden lits below.' Say only this ; A tender bud That tried to blossom in the snow Lies withered where the violets blow. vVIIAT DYING PEOPLE SEE. It is somewhat singular that the nat ural longing to penetrate the great se cret of mortality should not have sug gested to some of the inquirers into so called "spiritual" manifestations that before attempting to obtain communica tion with the dead, through such poor methods as raps and alphabets, they might more 2ro2rrly, and with better hope of gaining a glimpse through the ' gates ajar," watch closely the dying, and study the psychological phenomena which accompany the act of dissolution. Thus, it might be possible to ascertain, by comparison of numerous instances, wiietner among inose pnenometiTi are ; any which seem to indicate that- the mind, soul or self of the expiring per son is not undergoing a process of ex tinction, but exhibiting such tokens as might bo anticipated wero it entering upon a new jihase of existence, and com ing into possession of fresh faculties. It is at least conceivable that some such indications might be observed, were we to look for them with care and caution, under the rare conditions wher in they could at any time be afforded; and, if this should irove to be the fact, it is needless to dilate on the intense in terest of even such semblance of con firmation of our hopes. In a majority of death the accom panying physical conditions hide from the spectators whatever 213ychological phenomena may be taking place. The sun of our poor human life mostly si ts behind an impenetrable cloud. Of all forms of death, the commonest seems to be the awful "agonj" with its uncon scious groats and bteutorous breath. The dying person seems to sink lower and lower, as if beneath the waters of an unfathomable sea; a word, a motion, a glance, rising up at longer nrd longer intervals, till the last slow and distant &ighs terminate the woeful strife, and the victory of death is complete. When this is the mode of dissolution, it is of course hopeless to look for any indica tion of the fate of the soul at its exodous; 1 and the same holds good as regards death ia extreme old age, or after ex hausting disease, when the sufferer very literally ''falls asleep." Aguin, there are death whi"h are accompanied by crreat -pain or delirium, or winch are caused by sudden accidents, altogether hiding from our observation the mental condition of the patient. Only in a small residue of cases the bodily condi tions are such as to cause neither inter ference with, nor yet concealment of, the process of calm and peaceful disso lution, in the full light of mental sanity, and it is to these only we can look with any hope of fruitful observation. We ask whether, in such cases, instances have ever been known of occurrences having any signilicance, taken in con nection with the solemn event where with they are associated? Does our forerunner on the hilltop show by his looks and actions since he is too far off to speak to us that he beholds, from his 'Teak in Darien," an ocean yet hid den from our view ? I should hesitate altogether to affirm positively that such is the case; but, after many inquiries on the subject, I am still more disinclined to assert the contrary. The truth seems to be that, in almost every family or circle, ques tions will elicit recollections of death bed scenes, wherein, with singular re currence, appears one very significant incident, namelj-, that the dying person, precisely at the moment of death, and when the power of speech wa3 lost, or nearly lost, seemed to see something or rather, to speak more exactly, to be come conscious of something present (for actual sight is out of the question) of a very striking kind, which remained invisible to and unperceived by the as sistants. Again and again this incident is repeated.' It is described almost in the same words by persons who have never heard of similar occurrences, and who suppose their own experiences to be unique, and have raised no theory upon it, but merely considered it to be OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1877. "strange," "curious," "affecting," and nothing more. It is invariably ex plained that the dying person is lying quietly, when suddenly, in the very act of expiring, he looks up sometimes starts up in bed and gazes on (what appears to be) vacancy, with an expres sion of astonishment, sometimes devel oping instantly into joy, and sometimes cut short in the first emotion of solemn wonder and awe. If the dying man were to see some utterly unexpected but instantly recognized vision, causing him a great surprise, or rapturous joy, his faeo could not better reveal the fact. The very instant this phenomenon oc curs death is actually taking place, and the eyes glaze even while they gaze at the unknown sight. If a breath or two still heave the chest, it is obvious that the soul has already departed. A few narrations of such observations, chosen from a great number which have been communicated to the writer, will serve to show more exactly the point which it is desired should be establish ed by a larger concurrence of testimony. The following are given in the words of a friend on whose accuracy every reli ance can be placed: "I have heard numberless instances of dying persons showing unmistakably by their gestures, and sometimes by their words, that they saw in the mo ment of dissolution what could not be seen by those around them. On three occasions facts of this nature came dis tinctly within my own knowledge, and I will, therefore, limit myself to a de tail of that which I can give on my own authority, although the circumstances were not so striking as many others known to me, which I believe to be equally true. "I was watching one night beside a poor dying man of consumption; his case was hopeless, but there was no ap pearance of the end being very near; he was in full possession of his senses, able to talk with a strong - voice, and not in the least drowsy. lie had slept through the day, and was as wakeful that I had been conversing with him on ordinary subjects to while away the long hours. Suddenly, while we were thus talking quietly together, he became silent, and fixed his eyes on one particular spot in the room, which was entirely vacant, even of furniture. At the same time a look of the greatest delight changed the whole expression of his face, and, after a moment of what seemed to be intense scrutiny, he said to me in a joyous tone, 'There is Jim.' Jim was a little son whom he ho had lost the year before, and whom I had known well; but the dying man had a son still living, named John, for whom he had sent, and I con cluded it was of John he was speaking, and that he thought he heard him ar riving, so I answered: " 'No. John has not been able to come. "The man turned to me impatiently and said, 'I do not mean John. I know he is not here, it is Jim, my little lame Jim; surely you remember him?' ies, I said, 'I remember dear lit tle Jim, who died last year, quite well.' " 'Don't you see him then? There he is,' said the man, pointing to the vacant place on which his eyes were fixed, and, when I did not answer, he repeated al most fretfully. 'Don't you see him standing there?' "I answered that I could not see him, though I felt perfectly convinced that something was visible to the sick man which I could not perceive. When I gave him this answer he seemed quite amazed, and turned round to look at me with a glance of indignation. As his eye.s met mine, I saw that a flim seemed to pass over them, the light of intelli gence died away, he gave a gentle sigh and expired. lie did not live five min utes from the time he first said: 'There is Jim,' although there had been no sign of approaching deatli previous to that moment. "The second c;tse was that of a boy about 11 years of r.ge, dying also of do clino. He was a refined highly-educated child, who throughout his long illness had looked forward with much hope and longing to the unknown life to which tie beiieved lie was Hastening, un a bright summer morning it became evi dent that he had reached his last hour He lost the power of speech, chiefly from weakness, but he was perfectly sensible, and made his wishes known to us by his intelligent looks. lie was sit ting propped up in bed, and had been looking rather sadly at the bright sun shine playing on the trees outside his open window for some time. He had turned away fron this scene, however, and was facing the end of the room, where there was nothing whatever but a closed door, when all in a moment the whole expression of his face changed to one of the most wondering rapture, which made his half-closed eyes open to their utmost extent, while his lips parted with a smile of ecstasy; it -was impossible to doubt that some glorious sight was visible to him, and from the movement of his eyes it was plain that it was not one, but many objects on which he gazed, for his look passed from end to end of what seemed to be the vacant wall before him, going back ward and forward witli ever-increasing delisht manifested in his whole aspect His mother then asked him if what he saw was some wonderful sight beyond the confines of the world, to give her a taken that it was so by pressing her hand. He at once took her hand and pressed it meaningly, giving thereby an intelligent affirmative to her question, though nnable to speak. As he did so a chango passed over his face, his eyes closed, and in a few minutes he was gone. "The third case, which was that of my own brother, was very similar to the last. He was an elderly man, dying of a painful disease, but one which never for a momeut obscured his faculties Although it was known to be incurable, he had been told that he might live some months, when somewhat suddenly the summons came on a dark January morning. It had been seen in the course of the night that he was sinking, but for some time he had been perfectly silent and motionless, apparently in a state of stupor; his eyes closed, and his breath ing was scarcely perceptible. As the tar dy dawn of the winter morning revealed the rigid features of the countenance from which life and intelligence seemed to have quite departed, thosa who watched him felt uncertain whether he still lived; but suddently, while they bent over him to ascertain the truth, he opened his eyes wide, and gazed eagerly upward with such an unmistakable ex pression of wonder and joy that a thrill of awe passed through all who witnessed it. His whole face grew bright with a 6trange gladness, while the eloquent eyes seemed literally to shine as if re flecting some light on which they gazed; he remained in this attitude of delight ed surprise for some minutes, then in a moment th6 eyelids fell, the head drop ped forward, and with one long breath the spirit departed." A different kind of case to those above narrated by my friend was that of a young girl known to me, who had pass ed through the miserable experiences of a sinful life in Aldershot, and then had tried to drown herself in the river Avon, near Clifton. She was in some way saved from suicide, and placed for a time in a penitentiary, but her health was found to be hopelessly ruined, and she was s nt to die in the quaint old workhouse of St. Peter's at Bristol. For many months she lay in the infinia ry literally perishing piecemeal of dis ease, but exhibiting patience and sweet ness of disposition quite wonderful to witness. She was only 18 years, poor young creature! when all her little round of errors and pain had been run; and her innocent, pretty face might have been that of a child. She never used any sort of cant (so common among women who have been in refuges) , but had apparently some how got hold of a very living and real religion, which gave her comfort and courage and inspired her with the beau tiful spirit with which she bore her frightful sufferings. On the wall oppo site her bed there hung by chance a print of the lost sheep, and Mary S , looking at it one day, said to me, "That is just what I was, and what happened to me; but I am being brought safe home now." For a long time before her death her weakness was such that she was quite incapable of lifting her self up in bed, or of supporting herself when lifted, and she, of course, con tinued to lie with her head on the pillow while life gradually and painfully ebbed away, and she seemingly became nearly unconscious. In this state she had been left one Saturday night by the nurse in attendance. Early at dawn next morn ing an Easter morning as it chanced the poor old women who occupied the other bods in the ward were startled from their sleep by seeing Mary S suddenly spring up to a sitting posture in her bed, with her arms outstret jieI, and her face raised, as if in a perfect rapture of joy and welcome. The next instant the body of the poor girl fell back a corpse. Her death had taken place in that moment of mysterious ec stasy. A totally different case again was that of a man of high intellectual education, well known in the world of letters. When dying peacefully, as became the close of a profoundly religious life, and having already lost the power of speech, he was observed suddenly to look up as 11 at some spectacle invisible to those around with an expression of solemn surprise and awe, very characteristic, it is said, of his habitual frame of mind. At that instant, and before the look had time to falter or change, the shadow of death passed over his face, and the end had come. In j'et another case I am told that at the last moment so bright a light seem ed suddenly to shine from the face of a dying man that the clergyman and an other friend who were attending him actually turned simultaneously to the window to seek for the cause. Another incident of a very striking cnaracter occurred in a well knowu family. A dying lady exhibited the as pect of joyful surprise to which we have so often referred, spoke of seeinsr one after another, three of her brothers who had long been dead, and then apparent ly recognized, last of all. a fourth brother, who was believed by the by- standers to ue sun living in India. The coupling or his name with that of his dead brother excited such awe and hor ror in the mind of the person present that she rushed from the room. In due course of time letters were received anuouncing the death of the brother in India, which had occurred some time before his dying sister seemed to recog nized him. Again, in another case a gentleman who had lost his only son some years previously, and who had never recov ered from the amictiug event, exclaim ed suddenly when dying, with the air of a man making a most rapturous dis covery, "1 see him! I see him! Not to multiply such anecdotes too far, anecdotes which certainly possess a uniformity pointing to similar cause, whether that cause be physiological or psychical, I will now conclude with one authenticated by a near relative of the persons concerned. A late well known bishop was commonly called by his sis ters "Charlie," and hia elder pister bore the pet name of "Liz." They had both been dead some years, when their youngest sister, Mrs. W , also died, but before her death appeared to behold them both. While lying still and ap parently unconscious, she suddenly opened her eyes and looked earnestly across the room, as if she saw some one entering. Presently, as if overjoyed, she exclaimed, "O, Charlie!" and then, after a moment's pause, with a new start of delight, as if he had been join ed bv some one else, she went on, "And" Liz!" and then added, "How beautiful you are!" After seeming to gaze at the two beloved forms for a few minutes, she fell back on her pillow and died. Instances like these, might, I teliave. be almost indefinitely multiplied were attention directed! to them, and the ex perience of survivors more generally J communicated and recorded. Review COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY ing them, the question seems to press upon us, whyhould we not thus catch a glimpse of the spiritual world through the half -open portals wherein our dy ing brother is passing? If the soul of man exists at all after the extinction of the life of the body, what is more prob able than it should begin at the very in stant when the veil of the flesh is drop ping off to exercise those spiritual pow ers of perception which we must sup pose it to possess (else were its whole after life a blank) , and to become con scious of other things than those of which our dim senses can take cogniz ance? If it be not destined to an eter nity of solitude (an absurd hypothesis) its future companions may well be rec ognized at once, even if it goes forth to meet them. It seems, indeed, almost a thing to be expected, that some of them should be ready waiting to wel come it on the threshold. Is there not, then a little margin for hope if not for any confident belief that our anticipa tions will bo verified; nay, that the ac tual experience of not a few has veri fied them ? May it not be that when that hour comes for each of us that we have been wont to dread as one of part ing and sorrow " The Wt long farewell ou the hhore of this wide world," Ere we "put off into the unknown dark," we may find that we only leave, for a little time, the friends of earth to go straight to the embrace of those who have long been waiting for us to make perfect for them the noble life beyond the grave ? May it not be that our very first dawning sense of that enfran chised existence will be the rapture of reunion with the beloved ones whom we have mourned as lost, but who have been standing near, waiting longingly for our recognition , as a mother may watch beside the bed of a fever stricken child till reason illumines its eyes, aud with outstretched arms it cries, "Mother!" There are some, alas! to whom it must be very dreadful to think of thus meet ing on the threshold of eternity, the wronged, the deceived, the forsaken. But for most of us, God be thanked, no dream of celestial glory has half the ecstacy of the thought that in dying we may meet at once, before we have had a moment to feel the awful loneliness of death the parent, wife, husband, child, friend of our life, soul of our soul, whom we consigned long ago with breaking hearts to the grave. Their "beautiful forms (as that dying lady beheld her brother and sister) entering our chamber, standing beside our bed of death, and come to rejoin us forever what words can tell the happiness of such a vision ? It may be awaiting us all. There is even, perhaps, a certain probability that it is actually the desti ny of the human soul, aud that the af fections, which alone of earthly things can survive dissolution, will, like mag nets, draw the beloved and loving spir. its of the dead around the dying. I see no reason why we sho"uld not indulge so ineffably blessed a hope. But, even if it be a dream, the faith remains, built on no such evanescent and shad owy fonndation, that there is one friend and He the best in whose arms we shall surely fall asleep, and to whose love we may trust for the re union, sooner or later, of the severed links of sacred human affection. Frances Poirer Cobbet in Covlempoi-ary lievieir. Analysis of Petroleum. Anything in relation to petroleum is presumed to be interesting at the present time, and for this reason it may not be out of place to notice that the chemical con? stituents of rock oil are carbon and hy drogen, generally ninety parts carbon and ten parts hydrogen, by weight. The proportions form about an equal bulk, carbon being heavy while hydro gen is light and volatile. Originally they both existed in gases, and by their union they formed protocarburet of hy drogen, which, being condensed, forms naphtha, or light volatile oil, and, after the escape of a portion of hydrogen, the product is heavy petroleum. By a fur ther escape of hydrogen, the product becomes more solid, as bitumen, pitch or asphaltum, the highest.stages of con densation being cannel, bituminous and anthracite coal. The diamond is the purest state of solidified carbon, and is probably a crystalization of carbonic acid gas, unadulterated by hydrogen Coal oil is artificially produced by con verging oil into gas, adding a proper equivalent of hvdrogen and then con densing the gas. Iron, sulphuric acid and water, when placed in contact, give off hydrogen gas. Burning charcoal gives off carbonic acid gas. Mix these gases in proper proportions, subject them to heat under confinement, then allow the heated gas to escape through water, and the condensation will pro duce carbon oil ou the surface of the water, but it will cost about ten dollars a gallon, even if you get through with out au explosion. Osceola ReceiUe. Riding on a Whale's Back. Mr. D Finney, with his neighbor. Ancel Bart lett, were off Gunner's point, South T-fct il - t 1 mi i'lymoutu, coot snooting, niey were in separate dories, as far apart as boats usually are in that sport, when a hump back whale rose some distance off and spouted. He rose again near the boat. and Mr. Finney thought, by the direc tion he was taking, that the next time he came up he would come ahead of the boat, and he would give him a shot. While waiting for him to come uj, kneeling in the kottom of the dory, he felt a shock, and, as he expres es it, found himself on the whale's back dry shod. The next thing he knew he went down and came up on the other side of the boat. Probably the whale sank when he found he had a rider, and drew the man with hira. Wlftn he cam up he was near Mr. Bartlett's dory and was taken into his boat. Throughout the whole he had held on to his gun, and brought it on board with him. Boston Herald. It was a backward debtor who said: "The dues you say." 9 I MMIM HIKmjl,iyi.WeLUHiaS November Fashions. Very large buttons are all the rage. Mos3 green is the fashionable color. Cloak sleeves are rather larger and loose. Jacquard cloth is a new cloaking material. Black Chantilly lace is agaiu used on bonnets. Cleft halo brims are among the novel ties in bonnets. Cheviot tartans are among the novel ty wool fabrics. Clair de lune, or moonlight gray, is the coming color. Carrick capes and Carrick caps are handsome novelties. Slate, grey and orange are fashion able combinations of color. Floral trimmings for evening dresses are richer than ever. Curled cock's feathers tipped with jet are very fashionable. Neigeueseandbourette are the leading winter dress fabrics. Flat flounces, pleatings, bows and trimmings aro de rigeuer. Black Swedish gloves' of undressed kid are fashionable far demi-toilet. Kilt pleats in the back of polonaise skirts are a feature of the moment. Oriental, Torchon, Smyrna, aud Ra- gusa 2oint are the laces of the season. Low, square-necked princess dresses are the most fashionable for evening wear. The prevailing colors for cheviot tar tans are combinations of gray, blue and red. Bulgarian cloth and Schamyla cloth are bourettes of Muscovite origin or suggestion. Side draperies are inado of one larere box or Watteau pleat on many stylish costumes. Ulsters of waterproof, lady's cloth and camel's hair are the popular winter traveling garments. Cloak trimmings are large buttons, aigraffes, braids and passementeries, velvet, silk, and fringes. New styles of underskirts have floun ces trimmed with open-work embroid ery in Fayal designs. Bustles are no longer worn ; three floun ces on the back breadths of underskirts take their place. Beaded trimmiugs almost cover even ing dresses, making them look as if studded with, jewels. Chemises with drawers attached (chemelettes) are found in A. T. Stew art's lingerie department. . Coaching, Breton, tnd Serb;A i ets are simulated on many an-. ? polonaises and in princess drjssec. French gray corduroy dresses .ro made up in very plain styles, with lit tle drapery, but are richly trimmed. Strawberry vines, showing leaves, fruit, and flowers, are among the pretti est of tloral garnitures for evening toil ets. A Lone Wait for a. Wedding. Orange county has just had a wed ding with enough romance about it for a novel. In 1852 the bridegroom, then a young man, though under an engage ment to the lady whom he has just mar ried, enlisted in the Union army. His sweetheart made no effort to dissuade him from what he thought his duty, and with a breaking heart she bade him adieu and quietly buried herself in her homo with her widowed mother, the on ly living member of the family beside herself. For a while all went well, and loving letters from his bweetheart cheered the gallant soldier, and tender words of hope from him made life en durable to her. After the battle of Chancellorsville his letters suddenly ceased. Letter after letter was written tohimandhis comrades, but all that could be learned was that after that terrible battle he was missing. Whether he bad been killed or taken prisoner no one could tell, and his fate remain ed a mystery. His stricken sweetheart never entirely abandoned hope, and lived on, "tender and true," hoping against hopofor his return. After many patient years her troth has been reward ed, and she is now a happv bride. His narrative is that some time during the fight he was taken prisoner, and soon after he was sent to a Southern prison, where he was kept about a year, suffer ing untold torture. He finally escaped and reached the seaboard, where he con ceived the idea of personating an Eng lish sailor and getting to England on a blockade-runner. After that all is a blank. He learned afterwards that he had been taken ill and soon after insane. On his arrival in England he was taken to an insane asylum by the Captain of the blockade-runner, where he remain ed until a year ago, when he was discharg ed cured, but, penniless. He succeed ed by the assistance of friends in the asylum in securing a situation in a mer cantile house, where he rapidly won the esteem of the principals, to whom he told his story. A leave of absence was granted him ; he came to Middletown and found his old sweetweart, now a mature lady of 32, still faithful to his memory. They were quietly married, and have returned to England, where he proposes to remain for a term of years. During his long absence his only survivincr relatives, a brother and uncle, had died, and he had no ties to keep him here, save the love of country, which will eventually bring him aud his faith ful wife back to our shores. A Ibany N". Y.) Arfvs. A Pbofeskor in an Iowa female college caught two of the students out riding with their beaus a proceeding prohibit ed by the rales of the college. He stopped the carriage and attempted to pull the girls out. when the young men knocked him in the mud and the girls finished their ride. All opinions should be respected even when they are sincere. NO. 5. The Indian Basket Trick. Ever since the capture of the strange empire of India by the English, or for more than a hundred years, the civilized people have been hearing of the marvel ous feats performed by the native jug glers. Naturally, Houdin'a announce ment of the Indian basket trick made a great sensation. The curtain arose and disclosed a wicker basket of oblong shape standing upon what appeared, to be a light table, without any cloth cover upon it. The juggler entered, drag ging a beautiful youth, dressed as an Indian prince, wearing a robe of white cashmere embroidered with gold, while upon his head waved a peacock's pluma . held by a diamond star. "Mercy! mercy!" cried the child. "No no mercy. You are an Indian and a prince, and must die," was the savage response. "I am only a child," cried the in nocent boy. "That will not prevent my killing you." With piercing shrieks the child broke away and rushed to the side wing, only to be seized there by his executioner, who, lifting him in his arms, plunged him into the basket, which he closed, strapping down the cover. Then he drew his sword, and having tested its sharpness by striking it in the floor, lie thfust it in the basket again and again, while the victim inside gave the most heart-rending cries of pain and agony. Each time the sword was pulled out it was seen to be covered with blood, while the sobs and groans from the inside of the basket grew fainter and fainter, till at length they ceased, and a ghostly si lence ensued. During this scene the excitement among the audience was in tense. Ladies hd their faces behind their fans; some wept aloud; menshout ed hoarsely, "Enough!" The smiling juggler bowed, and proceeded to un strap the basket, which he turned mouth upward to the audience, showing it to be entirely empty. In the midst of the applause which followed from the amused and relieved audience, the little Indian prince was seen to be seat-, ed in a box in the center of the audito rium, kissing his tiny hand to those about him, as well as to his friend the executioner on the stage. This trick was performed with tin aid of looking-glasses inserted between the table legs a contrivance now commonly used in pantomimes and other show pieces put upon our stage. But it was a new thing then, and the scene was re markably well played by Houdin and the child. As soon as the boy got in the basket, he opened a trap door in the, bottom of it, which was placed over a corresponding opening in the table, j f':-Men by the looking glass, he vrouch eu i.jw l '",-.-n th table legs, and shriJ uud sobbed intil tha proper "monitor. t camo for 'hii JcoCenJ through a trap in the stage, and so pasa around to the box in the front of the theater. A sponge full of a red liquid was placed at a certain spot inside the basket, and the sword, passing through this, seemed to be dripping with blood. It was imperative that the juggler should not pass in front of the table, else his legs would have been reflected there, and that would have disclosed the entire secret. Houdin became dis satisfied with this trick, and made many improvements in it, which the jugglers of our day have still further periected. It is palpable that this cannot be the way in which Indian jugglers perform the trick in the market-places or other public squares, in broad daylight. They have no looking glass table, no traps through the earth. Houdin's theory concerning them was that their basket had an opening in it, either at its front or its back, and that, while buckling and strapping down the cover, with the knee lifted up and press ed on the basket as if to tighten the leather strap more securely, the child crept out under the bent knee, and hid beneath the voluminous robes of the juggler. Then, while the sword ia piercing the basket, and the child's sobs are most heart-rending, the crowd gath ers in a compact mass about it, and into the crowd the child easily escapes with out being seen, and runs away. At the proper moment he comes running back, as if from a distance, and of course the astonishment of the crowd is unparal leled, for the basket has, in the mean time, been opened and shown to be empty. Olive Logan, in Harper's Maga zine. Gwine Home. "Doctor, is I got to go?" "Aunt 'Liza, there's no hope for you." "Bress de Great MarsUr for his goodness. Ise ready." The doctor gave a few directions to the colored women that sat around Aunt 'Liza's bed. and started to leave, when he was recalled by the old woman, who was drifting out with the tide: "Marse John, stay wid me till it' ober; I wants to talk ob de ole times. I knowed you when a boy; long 'fore you went and been a doctor. I called you Marse John den, I call you de same now. Take yo' ole mammy's hand, honey, and hole it. Ise lived a long, long time. Ole marster and old missus had gone before, anddechillun from de ole place is scattered ober de world. I'd like to see 'em 'fore I start on de journey to-night. My ole man is gone and all de chillun I nussed at dis breast has gone, too. Dey's waitin for dere mudder on de golden shore. I bress de Lord, Marse John, for takin' me to meet 'em dar. Ise fought de good fight, and Ise not afraid to meet de Sa vior. No mo work for poor ole mam my; no mo' trials and tribulations hold my hand tighter, Marse John fadder, mudder marster missus chillun Ise gwine home. The soul, while pluming its wings for its flight to the Great Beyond, rested on the dusky face of the sleeper, and the watchers, with bowed heads, wept silently. She was dead. Drunsvicker. A woman's skeleton sells for more than a man's in Philadelphia, but it's a week's extra work to wire the jaws, you know. J 1 i1 t.l 1 J 21 h