Oregon City enterprise. (Oregon City, Or.) 1871-188?, December 13, 1877, Image 1

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VOL. 111.
NO. 8.
yz-j - r
, 9 O B T H M.
fuiMr, Bailaru TO mm a it Fauill crrlr
ie-A-isr: s. dement,
raapBiPTuft and POBi.isaKf..
OCicxLoi Paper tor Clackamas County.
OflJci In KulerprUe UullIJn.
0a ir South of Masonic Building, Main Street.
O Tcrini f HHbMripllan t
fctun'.e Copy, one yrar, la advance
ii 50
1 50
Magi Copy, all uiontus, in auvanre
Trrmn of 4di rrlltluti
Tiaoalaat advertlbemonts. Including all legal
BOtloea. pr afjuare of twelve liues, oue
2 HO
Iter ch aubajqueut iaaortioo
ib )Vi i, one y rr. ,
Oaif Ocr .in, one ya v
1 Quarter Column. ne jtar
Btialaeva Card, one square, one year
1 00
120 00
80 'Hi
M lit
12 00
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F.
XeeU every Thursday Evening, at.
1H o'clock. In Odd iellowa' liail.
Main Street. Members of the Order 1
are Invited to attend.
ISj order of jr. o.
No. 2,
I. O. O. ., meets en the Second and
fourth Tueaday Evoninw of each month,
at 1H o,cl;ck. In the Odd' Fellows' Hall!
afambera of the Degree are invited to
J. U. O. r., meet at Odd Fellows Hall on
the Firat and Third Tuesday of each month,
patriarchs In good standing are Invited to
1. 1'. & A. M., holds Its regular commv.nl-
oattona on the First and Third Saturdavs A
La each month, at 1 a'clock from the 20th " '' '
of Bnptember to the Jmh of March md s
1H o clook from the th of March to the f
)th of Heptember. brethren in good standing are
tarited o attend. By order of Y. M.
PhyHlcinn and Surgeon,
Graduate of the University of Pennsylvania.
Officb at CLirv House.
IMijHlcIan mid DruggiHt.
"Prescriptions carerully filled at short notice.
lh Mician and .Surgeon.
OsaooN Citt.'Obeoos.
lyuronio diseases and Diseases of Wouieu and
v-auaien a specialty.
Offloe Hours day and night; always ready when
ioty calls. auK2J, '78-tf
Hlaheat cash price paid lor County Orders.
M practice in all the Courts of the Stat.
opciai attention given to cases ia the United
i.ua Ufflce at Oregon City. Japr'TJ-tf
WM practloe In all the Courts of the State.
novl, Ti-tf
Etabll(ihecl hIiloo -il
One door North of Pope's Hall,
a. . .
B-7k .7"men, of watches. Jewelry, and
U rjiomaa' Weight Clocks, all of which
- "nted to be aa renrMented.
?toapairlna done on short notice; and thausiui
w a fiT3.
Iald tor County Orders.
rttn r.H madi: ta oitni n.
Omnos Crrr, Obhijox.
C" At th 'ost Office, Main Street, west side.
. novl, 'Tj-tf
Collector and Solicitor,
3yBeat of references given. vlet 2.-'77
hardwamuroTand wm,
Hubs, Spoken. Ilinis.
. naarJl.Tti-tt
FortlanJ, Orec
One door North of Ackerrcan Bros.
MTHoota and Bhoca made and repaired a cheao
aa the ehaapest. novl Ti tf 1
At all times, at the
And have on band FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
aaiktt rate, rartles desiring Feed must furnish
asveka. . novl'J tf
JPloneer ISook Bindery
PI t took a Building, cor. of Stark and Front Ma..
desired pattern. Mnalc Bo ks. Magazines,
Swpaprs. etc. bound in every variety of style
Uowo to the trade. Orders from the eonntry
JworapJlj attended to. novl, 75-tf
QIavi&ff Dnrchased the above Brewery.
Uha to inform the public that thev are
prepared to manufacture No. 1.
t ucuU obtained anywhere in the State.
eUcitd aad promptly 4Ud.
love i weuJf-r through the WiX)cllainn huary.
In the bolt light of an autumnal clay,
When Summer gathers up her robes of glory,
And like a dream of beauty glides away.
How through each loved, familiar path she lingers.
Serenely Muiliutf torouh the golden mist,
Tintins the wild graie. with her dewy fingera.
Till the cool emerald turns t amethyst.
Warm light are on the sleepy uplands waning,
lieneath soft clouds alon the horizou rolled.
Till the slant mm beams turough their fringes rain
Iur. Iiathe all the hills in melancholy gold.
I have gaz&d on death and have wept with woe,
I have known all sorrow that life must know,
I have seen hearts Btricken and dead hopes fall,
They wtre not the saddest sight of all !
I have watch'd young lives that were bright with
Fading from earth bnt to blossom above;
1 have seen 'i sjt wfc'lh on death could call
It was n t th- 1-
U !
I have watched as the miser's clinging clasu
Held the hoard that at last escapes his grasp ;
I have seen the poor, the maini'd. the blind.
It was not the saddest sight I find.
O'er all sad ac -nes I have watched and
Rut one in iuy aching heart is kept.
And its pathos holds my tears in thrall,
For it seems the saddest of them all !
The gas glare glittered on street and lane.
On giddy youth and en bartered shame.
On a hurrying throng as it flitted by
With none to notice a young child' sigh.
He sat with a face so young for paiu.
Yet it stamped his brow like a living name.
And ho held in his arms a tiny elf.
Oh God t and he but a baby himself !
His eyes were fixed with their mournful gaze
wn tue neea less throng and the bright'nlng blaze,
While the doors went swinging by which he sat
And sin and rice passed in thereat.
Yet he must stay ay, and watch and wait
For the staggering btep that may stop so late.
While the baby eyes that should close in sleeji.
Arj wide and wakeful and dare not weep !
Oh cruel city! and curbed haunts.
Lone poisoned tempting no warning daunts.
Methinss when you answer for sins accurst
That ehibirrn shall jude and condemn you first !
Translated for tho Portland Transcript from the
ttrrman ny M. 31. on Weber.
Janos. yoa are a perfect fool." saiu
tho wav-enprineer on the roatt that
passes south-easterly from Temesvar
through tho measureless grain and corn
fields of tho lonat, to the man standing
hat in hand before him. who was road
warder No. 128, and at the same time
depot-master at the little station of Jam
Saag; "a perfect fool, I tell yon. You,
yourself, would have nothing to eat if
here the bread did not grow in one s
mouth. Four children, and you take
that little bantling in addition. To be
sure, the child is pretty enough. How
cirne you to be so foolish ?"
"Well, sir, this is the way it came to
pass. Yonder on tho branch road are
laborer; Welsh cnnot talk with us
but Rood people anxious to make
money. Last year there was a gang of
them fourteen feet deep, in the corn
near Cloister Zekas. Didn't dare to
make any fire for fear of firing the
woods it was so dry. Everyday women
came from those villages with their
porridge miles miserable. A child
rn alongside one of tLee women
came very, very far. Pretty child
just as old as my youngest. Always sat
down in the door of the depot and rest
ed tired to death. The child cried of
ten, because of the pain in her feet, and
heat and fatigue. My wife, who to-day
is yonder with the grandmother in La
gos, where, in the royal school very
goml school my children all are, my
wife 'Janos,' cried she, 'I pity that
child. She looks like Juscha, who
is in the school with the others the
whole week. We are lonely. Wouldn't
you like to let the child play and eat
here during the week with us, and Sun
days with the children. The little one
is pretty and good. See, Mr. Inspect
tr, how she laughs with her eyes
black! Says I, 'let the child stay when
it comes again w ith its mother.' The
noor woman kissed our hands. She was
happy could see her child every day,
and not have to feed it. lou know, Mr
Inspector, that fever broke out among
tho Welsh laborers last year. The tents
must all be moved. However, before
that could happen, the father of tho child
died, and the mother never came again
T'erhans she died, too probably. Child
remained with ns winter summer.'
"You should have reported the case
at some institution, Janos. lou should
lmvn spnt it to the home of the labor
ers, to Wales."
"Oh, no, Mr. Inspector, no- so far
noor little worm dear child, -uy
children love it, and we, too."
"Now, very rlne, Janos. Jt s nothing
to me, it will be a burden to you all
your life long. Suppose we wish to
adopt all the children of tho laborers
who die of marsh-fever! You area fool.
Good-night. Do not forget to scud the
chest to Tenesvar, to-morrow. You
won't have much in it. However, it is
Saturday. Paragraph seventeen of the
rules! llemember especially that we are
on the road on which O and K
I drive to the devil. You had them with
. . a
you nere, lormerly, at this station, ana
they know the order, and that it is time
for the delivery of the chest. The ras
cals steal in a shameless manner, a3 it is
permitted in Hungary. Take care, that
they do not pav you a visit. Good
night, Janos."
The hand-car of the way-engineer,
driven by six powerful arms, disappears
in the evening dusk, and tho light mist,
that from the corn-rields near the road,
rises over it. Janos is all in all at the
little station, which is really nothing
more than a halt-lost halting place, on a
desolate stretch of road over which two
trains a day pass. These transport the
grain merchant, the Jew, who has
cheated the cavalier possessor of the
ground, np to his ears in debt, out of
the grain on the stalk as a penance
money: or tho swine dealer, who in
spects the corn-meat of his merchandise;
or the lumbermar, who nas just, cnanj.
a bit of health, climate and fearful
Foomled on an actual occurrence.
Damea of places are altogether cLacged.
weather, in the form of a magnificent
primeval forest, a mile square, into rail
road sleepers and cask staves ; or the son
of the Punta, who goes to the next
2lace to drink at the election of a judge
however, few of these stop at this out-of-the
way station on the road. The
chest is therefore small, and, for assist
ance, Janos requires only the help of
an old man who was once converted by
a collision from a "fine conductor" into
a poor cripple, and that of his thrifty
wife, a Saxon from Siebenbnrgen, who
can read, write, and has head and heart
in the right place. To-day she has
driven to tle city for the supply of pro
visions for the little station, lying like
an island in the corn sea; the old man
has had a holiday, and Jano3 is alone
with tho child.
In a corn-sea, indeed, tho station lies.
As far as the eye can reach to the
north, south,- east and west, nothing
but tho brake of tho noble plantJ, high
er than a man's head. From the red
light of tho low, not yet full harvest
moon, blows down a gentle night wind
over the measureless level of the fruit
ful reed, in which the buffaloes, who
come from the marshy shore of the Ber
zaba, tread small paths, as in the tree
grass of the prairies of America. The
corn here conceals the buffalo, as well
as there the bison and the scalp-hungry
red-skin. The wind does not cause soft,
weak, fragrant waves to break on the
edge of the woods, as in blonde floods
of grain, but here the high, flower pan
icles, sharp and arrow-like, only glitter
and bow by millions, like so many hal
berd points of a wandering army. Be
low in the dim confusion of the long,
sharp leaves, there is a gleaming a3 of
bright blades, and light clashing as of
theso blades when they cross each oth
er. Yonder, here and there, some
thiugs tower, gloomy and black, like
masts of ships, sunken in this sea, on
which the moon streams with a blue
light. They are the sweeps of the draw
wells, the marks of tho Hungarian
plain. And the air is rilled, far and
wide, with the weak, easy croak of
countless frogs, ("Hungarian nightin
gales," the sneering tongues of the Ger
mans call them) who live in the water
trenches of the road, and tho ditches of
the marshy land. Only when tho tone,
which on account of its continuance,
the ear no longer hears, is silent, as if
at a command everywhere heard, then
ono is aware that it filled tho air, and
hears the light rustling and clashing in
the corn, and the distant bellowing of
the buffalo.
Tho railroad has drawn a furrow in
the vastness of the corn-sea. The tele
graph wires stretch over it, like spark
ling threads in the moonlight, and dis
tant points of light tells that here Inan
waits for man.
This is the picture of the Hungarian
plain, grand in its homely vastness, as
prairies, iiampas, llanos, and savannas,
and yet so much more friendly and
near to mankind than they; as a wide
spread field of nourishment must be
more pleasant than an unbounded lnrnt-ing-ground.
The time for the last of the few trains
that pass the station is come. Janos
takes the child, the little companion of
his loneliness, whom he, until now, re
joicing in the coolness of the night air,
has held, laughiug and plaving, on his
knees, and carries it to its little bed,
that stands' in the airy watch-room,
whose two windows look, right and left,
on the road, when tho good man
lights the lamp oa the table, to illumi
nate his solitary night meal, and pre
pares the signal lantern for the sign he
has to give the approaching train.
There ii no need for it to stop. No
passenger wishes to leave, and in Janos'
little province all is in order, so that he
has only to show to the train tho white,
unchanged light of the signal lantern,
which says to it, "Go on, all is safe."
Therefore Janos eirefully remove? the
bright panes from his lantern, for light
shining through green would, without
cauie, warn the train, "Haro care; go
slowly," through re l, however, it would
command "Halt."
Xo locomotive driver, no brakeman,
dares for a moment deny obediouce to
this command flashed out by a gleam of
red light on the road. He knows that
life may hang on this minute." A red
light, a halt signal has, ujion the whole
personnel of a train, an effect electric,
irresistible, as the sound of a hostile
shot ou a column marching in the
night. The idea "halt" 2)Gneti'ates
every sense, draws, even, every fist with
a rough jeik, for perhaps there lies, di
rectly before them, in the darkness, ter
ror and death.
Tkeu tho whistle screams in quickly
repeated, cutting toLes. "All hands to
tho brakes," and the engine driver
dashes the lever back, that causes the
force of the locomotive to act back-
wards; and in quick haste the fireman
draws the handle of his powerful ham
mer; and sparks issue from the burning j
blocks, and bine fire marks the gliding
of the wheels over the rails, until the
snorting, iron colossus stands still. i
Janos then removes from the lantern j
tho magic glass whose mighty command
is not to be disobeyed, and lays it on
the table beside its less commanding
neighbor, the green, and lights the
burner. Observant, the little child sits
up in bed, watching his work, the while
chatting and asking questions, unwear
iedly in child fashion, in words hilf
learned, broken, and with difficulty
spoken, so that Janos finally is obliged
to press the little head down on the pil
low, with the express injunction to go
right to sleep, before he, waiting for tne
train, steps to the front of tho lionse.
The child, however, does not sleep.
Slyly she raises her head again. Yes,
there they lie on the table, those wod
derfnl plates, through which mother
had once allowed the dark eyes to look.
It was winter then, and vet one glass
brought it to pass that the whole, clear,
green, sunny spring had come, and be
fore the other she had started back
then the whole world burned! How
much the child wished to see that won
der over again but father had threat
ened her with severe punishment if she
dared to take one of the plates in her
hand. And there they lay now, just
like a child's slate, harmless on the ta
ble, and father was out ah, only one
Meanwhhile, Janos sits before the
houso ou the stump of wood on which
his wife splits her kindlings, awaiting
the signal. A light doze makes him al
most forget employment, children, cares.
There is a sound of crackling and
heavy stepping in the corn it is a buf
falo seeking its way to the water in the
road trenches; it may trot over the
track, and if the train comes be reached.
Janos hastily stoops to find the goad
stick for the driving of bulls, which is
kept for such cases among his tools
when a tkick coat is cast over his head,
and strong arms, almost choking him,
encircle his neck; before he can raise
himself from his stooping position he
is thrown to the ground and bound;
but, although stifled, his-cry for help
comes through the coarse stuff about
his head, loud enough to terrify the
"Make that fellow still," he hears a
voice whisper.
"Strike him dead?" asks another voice.
"Yes, quick, quick!"
"Not that. Not strike him dead,"
whispers a third; "has he seen and rec
ognized you? No? Then only stop up
his mouth."
"What with?"
"Tear tho signal flag from the hole
so now hold his nose. As soon as he
opens his mouth, in with the flag un
der the cloak well down with the stick
if he chokes to death, that is his- affair 1
so. Now he s dumb enough."
Like a bundle of wood , J onas is thrown
behind a wood pile, where he strikes his
head painfully against a leg. Then
penetrates to his ear, through all the
stifling surroundings, the stroke of a
bell ono two pause one two the
electric signal of the coming train.
"Holy Mother of God! if it stopped
all would be saved," thinks the gagged
man in lm death-like anguish, "but
why should it stop?"
"Thunder and lightning," he hears
some one call, "there comes the train.
I thought it passed long ago. If it stops,
the devil take ns. Quick, out with the
lantern. WThite light, so that it goes
on. Before the train is by, nothing can
bo done. The chest is tightly screwed.
We need time."
Janos heard the door slam, and the
steps of several men.
"Here is the lantern. You give the
sign. You know how. You others step
here in the shade."
Now it is still, all still. Then begins
in the distance a rattling and roaring
the train! There is the train! Tho roar
ing comes nearer, the rails begin slight
ly to clatter.
"O merciful Mother of God, perform
a miracle! Stop iff" sighs Janos. "I
would hang a tin three-pound wagon
wheel in thy church at Maros."
"It would be infamous if it stopped;
then all would be lost. Quick, white
light! High, high with the lantern!
Bight in sight 30!" crie3 a voice.
The long drawn whistle of tho loco
motive resounds through the night.
"Hurrah, it passes through!" exult
three rough voices.
Then follows tho long whistle, shrill
as a cry for .help, shoit. broken ones
one. two, three. fon-, five, six.
"Hell and Satan! that whistles to
brakes, and to stopping!" rails one of
the hoarse voices. "Take to your heels,
the devil comes. Quick, into the c rn.
Break the signal lantern in two."
Clashing it flies against the wall.
"Shouldn't we first undo Janos?''
"What for? Hnllo. there they are al
ready!" Tho corn closes over the dark figures.
The train comes on. Sparks issue from
under the wheels, the earth trembles, a
gasp, a cloud of smoke rising to the
moon, and it is still. A number of
powerful men in uniform spring from
the car; at the head of them the conduc
tor, who quick, and evidently angry,
stiides towards the depot.
"Why were we made to stop and no
one here? Iu the devil's name, what
does it mean? Why have tiiey shown
us a red light?"
"Here, Mr. Conductor, lies the signal
lantern, broken, but there is no red
light in it."
"There is something wrong. Search
the house," commanded the chief offi
cer. "Where are the jeople? Here is
only a little child in the room and hre
is something groaning behind the wood
"There is sis true a God lives, a
yixrrrrpil innn Tfc i-i .T:(.iira 'u-gr.lar Vn
o r d " 1 j -.
j 128, and the sigual flag as gag in his
mouth! It looks as much like an at
tempt of robbers as one egg like anoth
er. Away with the gag. Tell on, man."
And Janos. who is half stifled, after
he has recovered his breath and collect-
j e, thoughts, relates what has hap-
pened to him, and expresses the opinion ;
that it may haye been the dismissed
men, since the robbers evidently knew 1
the duties of the road and the time for
delivering the chest.
"But all that," the chief officer intei
rupts tho long story, "docs not explain
why we had a red signal. The rubbers
certainly did not give it."'
"It is all a mystery to me," says Ja
nos, thoughtfully, with head cast down.
"I, myself, had taken the red glats from
the lautern." Suddenly he raises his
head, laiiant. "Ah, Mr. Conductor, it
is a miracle a miracle the Mother of
God most gracious hears my prayer
in my deathly trouble, and herself gives
the red signal, with a white lantern."
"Snick, snac'i, foolish," says the con
ductor. "Let's investigate the matter.
Come, Janos," first of all to the watch
The men step in. The child sits,
much frightened, on the table before
the lamp. As Janos enters, terrified,
she lets the red glass she holds in her
hand fall on the table, and, weeping,
stretches ont her arms to him.
"Don't be cross, papa; don't whip me.
Red light so beautiful here, and out
doors, and everywhere please, please,
don't whip me."
"Here we have the little signalizer,"
cries the conductor, laughing. "The
little lassie has peeped through the
glass before the lamp, and, without, it
gave the red signal. Janos, Janos, if
the Mother of God has not done it, a
miracle has been really wrought for you.
But for this little girl they would have
throttled yoa in the end; to say nothing
of the ch,ost. The matter is explained,
and we'll go away. I will leave you a
guard here. Good night."
The train rolls on. Janos, his hot
eyes staring before him, holds the child
in his arms.
Another day, the way engineer, as he
goes home on his hand-car, passes sta
tion No 128.
"Ha, Janos, good morning. I con
gratulate you that you are to be con
gratulated. Over there, at the head
station, the story has moved every one.
They send you this little keg; but do
not let the little lady drink too much
from it. You were not such' a fool,
after all, that you kept the child. Good
by." '
A Sparrow's Reprehensible Conduct.
A gentleman who resides in New York,
had erected, last spring, in his back
yard, a very large box for sparrow's
nests. It was divided into three rows,
each containing four compartments:
Theso were all speedily taken possession
of by a dozen pairs of sparrows, and the
business of making nests proceeded,
amid the customary chippering diu of
the fussy and pugnacious feathered
Sittiug idly at the window, one Sun
day, watching the birds, tho gentleman
saw one cock sparrow como flying to his
place with a fine, soft, white feather in
his bill. Tho box was so placed that he
could see into the compartments, and
he saw this bird fix the feather in an in
complete nest, and then fly away. No
sooner is he out of sight than a female 1
sparrow, from the adjoining compart
ment, who had evidently seen that pro
ceeding, hojjped into her neighbor's
house and pulled out aud carried off the
coveted feather.
Becoming interested, the observer
watched the performance, expecting to
see the little thief carry her stolen prize
to her own nesl; but no; she knew a
trick worth two of that, and" here is
where sho displayed an undeniable rea
soning process, and acted on a clear per
ception of cause and effect, making a
prudent use of her knowledge of the
character and disposition of her plun
dered neighbor.
She flow off with the feather to a
neighboring tree, where she securely
fastened it in an inconspicuous place
upon and between two twigs, and there
lift it.
Pretty soon the bird she had defraud
ed came back with a straw to add to his
nest. Discovering his loss he came out
with an angry chirrup that boded no
good to the despoiler of his hearth and
home, if he could only find the rogue.
His first demonstration was to visit his
next door neighbor, without any search
warrant. In that abode of peace and
innocence he found no trace of the sto
len feather; and as for the actually guilty
party, she was hopping innocently
about, and loudly demanding as far as
bird tones could be understood by the
man at the window what was meant by
this ungentlemanly intrusion.
The cock sparrow was evidently puz
zled. Unable, after a minute search, to
find the lost feather, he apparently gave
it up. and flew away in search of anoth
er. The thief demurely waited until he
had got well off, and then flew to the
tree, secured the stolen feather and took
it in triumpt to her own nest. Ilurfforil
Mountain Climbing. The greatest
altitude which has been reached by
mountain climbers was that attained in
Cashmere by Mr. Johnson, who, some
years age mounted to a spot 22,300 feet
above the sea. Aeronauts have ascend
ed 30,900 and returned with safety. It
is supposed bv mountaineers that 2-V
000 or 20,000 feet is the utmost height
that will ever be trod by human steps.
That life can be supported at this alti
tnde has been proved by the adven
turers who have dared the dangers of
the upper air in a balloon. During the
last, summer Mons. Weiner ascended
Mt. Immami, one of the loftiest peaks
of tho Bolivian Andes. The height of
this mountain has been variously esti
mated. Mr. Pentland giving it an alti
tude of .24,200 feet. Mr. Minchin set
ting it at 21,224 feet, and Mr. Weiner
himself making it to be only 20,112 feet.
Few ascents to the height of 21,000 feet i
have been recorded. Hunters on the j
Himalayas of ten chase their game to the
height of 20,000 feet, and natives living j
near Mt. Demarcnd, near Teheran, fre- !
quently climb to the summit, about 20,- j
; uuo icet, to gainer suipimr troni tho :
i crater.
A Congressman's Lovf. Story. Mr.
Conger, of Michigan? has a lore history,
which is very remarkable. He has a
smiling, fair wife, fat and forty, who
leans upon him in the abandon'of the
honeymoon. She has dark hair, patted
smoothly on her cheeks, and she wears
gold-rimmed spectacles. Each married.
gallery. Alter a Jittle talk she asked
liim to call upon her at her friend's.
Mrs. Dahlgren. He said he would cali
if he could come as ho used to in those
long past days of youth. In a few weeks
they were married at Mrs. Admiral
Dahlgren's residence, and are complete
ly infatuated with each other. Wash-
' T - am ' - s1 7 rrr .
luyiun s?iirr 10 nicago l imes.
Some women love to praise their hus
bands. Said a Louisville wife, the other
day, in her earnest, honest way: "Mv
husband is a smart man, yes he is. I
never saw a smarter. Why, he has got
it fixed so that I can go to any store in
tawn, and run in debt as much as I
please, and they can't touch a thing.
But of coarse I wouldn't."
rV tvnn f v ru u f rrv tit o tvMn.A. I
?n iUr XT ; "7,w ""r Y.! ? securing the equable
b-:7iV::L:; ". r". "I imagination, hone wonder, and
r,X"r;,A.A.-,,m,, special kinds of intellectual and
ZL ITZ IV'L activity, according to the en,
Homes and fif useum.
Lovers of bric-a-brac and the phrase
designates a large number of interest
ing people are apt to make an impor
tant mistake. They transform their
homes into museums. They bring to
gether and pile up a collection. Now
the interest with which a visitor regards
a home is a very different one from
that with which he regards a collection.
To find scattered about a home, just in
the right nooks andpleeas, objects of ait
and beauty, is an exceedingly delight
ful thing To examine a collection for
the collection's sake leaving its rela
tion to the home entirely ont of consid
eration may bo interesting to some
people who are " up " as we say in
those things, but it is not at all inter
esting to those who do not see the use
of it. That is anybody can see that a
beautiful object in a barren place serves
a purpose, while a great many beautiful
things, shut up in a cabinet, serve no
purpose except by their numbers to
cheapen one another.
An object of art in a home is entirely
and always out of place whenever it
shows that the interest of its owner is in
the object rather than the home. A col
lection usually betrays a passion or a
taste which subordinates the love of
home. A person possessing this passion,
and enthusiastic in his pursuit of its
object, spoils his home by transforming
it into a show-place for curiosities. The
truo policy is, never to buy an object of
art, of any sort, without knowing just
where it will fit into the home just
what uninteresting spot it will illumi
nate just what vacant shelf or barren
surface it will adorn. Cabinets may be
very interesting pieces of furniture, but
they are often used in snch a way as to
degrade or destroy the home idea. J.
! . Holland ; S:ribrter for liecf-nh?.r.
Now, from whatever cause or combi
nation of causes nervousness has been
produced, if happiness and health are
to bo restored, the causes must be re
moved, and the injury they have caused
repaired. For, iu proportion to the
weakness of a nan's system and the en
feeblement of his nerves, will be the
liability of his falling a victim to other
and more fatal maladies ; and thus it is
that every day we find such diseases as
bronchitis, consumption, Bright's dis
ease, brain disease, and insanity follow
on the heels of nervousness. First we
must remove the cause, restore the tone
of tho heart and improve the blood.
All injurious habits must be given up ;
lato hours and intemperance in eating
abandoned ; smoking, if practiced,
stopped. The food is most important.
It must be abundant and -wholesome
neither too much nor too little. It
should not bo sloppy, and soups had
better bo avoided so long as solid food
can bo taken. Bise from the table feel
ing that you have had enough, bnt not
oppressed with what you have eaten.
The bread should be stale, and no very
heating food taken. Eight hours' sleep
should be taken every niht, if possible.
This alone will nearly cure. Take no
narcotics to make you sleep. A few
raw oysters before bed time are worth
all tho narcotics in the world, are easily
digested, and furnish material for re
storing the nervous tissues and blood.
If you wake up in the middle of the
night, sometimes a stale biscuit will set
you off to sleep again. A change ef
scene; air and cheerful society, with
sea-bathing, are excellent agents for
curing nervousness. Avoid physic--it
exhausts the tone of the system, the
very thing vou would restore. Above
all, keep up a good heart.
Family Hint.
T Preserve Apples. Pack in boxes
or barrels elevated from the-cellar floor,
with a laver of dry sawdust at the bot
torn of each box or barrel ; then a layer
of apples, placed out of contact with
each other, then a layer of sawdust, and
so on, till all are full. Sound apples
packed in this manner will keep fresh a
long time. Larlos.
To Prevent Potatoes from Hot. Dust
over the floor of the bin with lime, and
put in about six or s?ven inches of po
tatoes, then uust witn lime as before,
.1 ! t
tnen more potatoes, using aoout one
bushel of lime to 40 bushels of potatoes
The lime improves the flavor of the po
tatoes, and effectually kills the fungi
which causes the rot. Carlos.
Kchef for Asthma. One to two
tablespoonfuls of syrup of rhubarb.
Work and Play. Dr. John Straclian,
of Edinburgh, has recently published
a valuable little treatise, physiologic
ally inquiring into the bearing of play
upon education and training ; and after
some preliminary remarks he proceeds
to state tuat me law ot spontaneous de
velopment through play does not end
with physical improvement, but that,
after a time, the higher and more dif
ferentiated faculties come to be required
for tho porfection of the animal, and
that the same law presides over their
evolution. Play, he explains, that is
apparently aimless, or, at least, not con
sciously directed exercise, is the means
development of
perhaps also the accidents of social
position in the individual. " Exerciso
is accompanied by pleasure up t the
limit of fatigue ; beyond this limit, by
pain or uneasiness. Special endow
ments or faculties brought into promi
nence by acc.dent and Hfter exercised
are more, others are bsv, developed.
But in every ease there is a limit, and
the only iir way of jtseertaining the
limit is'bv giving scope to the instinct ;
in other words, by allowing play ' or
apparently uurenlafWi spontaneous
impulse its due plac in the work-of
education." .
"Can any mortal man tell why a wo
man will cross one sloppy crossing on
her toes and the next one oa her heels?"
askB an exchaBge.
Grade Cattle and Tliorouel&bredg.
Thinking over the difference of keep
ing common grade cattle and possessing
a herd of pure-breeds, suggested a little
calculation; thus say a man has fifty
beeves, including heifer calves. Sup
pose there are ten heifer calves raised
every year, there would be also tea
yearlings, ten two years old, and ten
three years old, which would leave tea
cows four years old, making GO altogeth
er. Now, according to the best English
system of dairy husbandry, these oldest
cows, which are just in their prime,
would be kept barren this year and,
when dry from milk, be fattened and
sold for beef. Well, if these were good
Orange County grade cows and man
aged on this English system, they
would probably make very fine beef.
and now, as the best meat has a ready
sale for exportation, these ten cow.
would make &0 each, thus bringing in ,
800 per year, over and above" what
would arise from the milk or the butter.
Now, we will suppose that instead of
grade cattle, another men with a similar
farm, has pure-breds of a moderate fan-
y breed, or, in other words, has a thor-
ongh-bred herd, but not any 01 the ex
travagant Short-Horns, bay they are
all fine and useful, with a fair pedigree
of whatever breed they may le, and that
they are worth about 200 each on an
average. As they thus cost a great deal
more than the grades, there would be a
much heavier capital on which to pay
interest, and as round numbers will; be
near enouch for onr purpose, we may
put extra interest at S500 per year. Our
calculation would then be: 10 cows :
sold in calf instead of for beef, and jhe
price 8200 each, which would be 82,000
per year instead of 800; bnt the 8500 in-
terest must be deducted from ih
larger sum, then leaving 81,500 insj-ui
of 8800.
This argument could be carried
farther, by reckoning the keeping oi
these animals Avorth several hundred
dollars more each, but when these very
costlv cattle are bred, there is a deal of
extra expenses incurred in pamjaerirf
them, and moreover the high feedings
and close breeding of relation causea
many barren cows and " many other
kinds of disappointments, which, when
everything had been accounted-for,
would not improve the retnrns rom
the more moderate stain of pure-breds.
There should be well regulateu sys
tem in breeding, but with those-wno
will sell animals of any age, from a calf
to a cow, there appears to be no method
at all; whereas, on the other hand, if
there were only the annual draft there
would be a positively decided system.
CVr. llural JSeic lorker.
Monex in Beef. Under the headinx,
a writer in the Farmer's Friand has thes
sensible and seasonaole remarks: :It is
a poor policy for farmers to sell . cows
that fail in their milk at this season of th
year, to others who fatten them, and make
money by the ousmess. o one can
fatten stock cheaper than farmers can.
They need a good pasture exclusively
for fattening cattle; that is enougn suoia
pasture should be fenced off to feed one,
two, or as many animals as one desires
to fatten. I see no good reason why
such stock should not, in the absence
of other good pastures, be turned: up
on mowing land in the fall when tha
grass is well grown; so as to afford a pas
ture adapted to fattening cattle. I do
not think that any injury would be sus
tained by thus pasturing mowing lands,
unless the grass should be fed off quite
short, or the sward be cut in wet weath
er by the hoofs of the cattle; and it is
easy to avoid both of these possible in
juries. As cold weather approaches,
fattening animals should be fed on meal
and root crops, and by January they
may be put in a good condition to
slaughter. No cows should be kept on
a farm that give but little milkjnatural
ly, as it is better to fatten tbem and buy
good ones. A cow worth 100 is mart
profitable than one worth only 850.
Cabe ok Applk Orchards. An or
chard can be manured successfully wjth
fertilizers, but an apple orchard should
receive less manure, and of less-stimulating,
nitrogenous kind than will suit
pears. Wood ashes, mixed with ground
bones, applied at the rate of 200 to 300
pounds of the latter, with ten to twenty
bushels of ashes per acre, would make
a good application. Orchards should
not be seeded to grass. Apple orchards
will endure such treatment better than
pears; but either will do better in fal
low, or by having hoed crops grown un
der them, when the shade is not to
dense for this to be practicable. Pota
toes, roots, and squashes will do pretty
well in a half shady place. Bat perhaps
the best way to handle an apple orchard
is to fence it and pasture it with hogs;
they will root up the ground and pick
up the wormy apples as they fall, pre
venting the coddling moth from multi-
E lying aud weeds from growing. If the
o"gs are kept in such numbers as to sub
due vegetation and require hand feed
ing, it will be all the better for the
A vast nuinoer ot oranges are outeii
by the Spaniards, it being no uncom
mon thing for the children of a familv
tj consume ten or a dozen oranges each
before breakfast, gathering them from
the orange irroves, where they hang
like the veritable golden fruit, which
they are metaphorically supposed to be.
Such wholesale consumption of what we
look upon as a luxury appears to have
no ill effect. The testimony of a lat
eminent physician authorizes the use of
fruit as most wholesome immediately
upon waking in the morning; he, in fact,
prescribed and) a regimen to a friend as
the only invigorating permanent cure
for indigestion, facetiously remarking
that he gavo her a piece of advice which,
if it were known to his dyspeptic pa
tients, would cost him his practice, a
they might prefer so simple a remedy
to his professional yisite. Lor. don Gar- -deners'
We see the Star ahirt laundry adver
tised in a Vermont paper Bat who
Would be so reckless asterisk his linen
in a concern with such a name?
. i
tn: nFT7DC TT7 flTT P. ft T .TFORN IA .