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DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON.
YOlZllL OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 1878. : " NO. 19.
. , 1 ' " T " ' " ' m "
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THE ENTERPRISE. !
A LOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOB THE
Farmer, Uutlnru Han and Family Circle
ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY.
JEUJSTl S. ZDZEZMZZEZCsTT,
rnoPBiCTOB and publishes.
Official Paper for Clackamas County.
OUic: In Enterprise Ituililinj;,
Olio door South of Masonic Building, Main Street.
Term of Kuborrlptlon :
Single Copy, one year, in advance $1 50
SlnKlu Copy, six months, in advance 1 50
Term of Ail tert Iking :
Transient advertisements, including all legal
notices, per square of twelve lines, one
weeJt $ 2 5fl
For each subsequent insertion 1 00
Out Column, one year 120 00
'Half Column, on year 60 00
Quarter Column, one year 40 00
Business Card, one square, one year 12 00
SOCIETY NOTICES
OREGON LODGE, No. 3, I. O. O. F.
11 .-of every Thursday Evening, at,5j
iy Evening, at.-. ..-. ----Fellows'
liaU..J?.rl
ra of the Ordurji;.
i x, o clock, in udd t
Main Street. Members
are invited to attend.
By order of N. O.
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 3,
niecis on the Hocoud aud rv
iourth Tuesday Evenings of each month. I
t t iu iu uuii f ellows Hall
Members of the Degree are invited to
FALLS ENCAMPMENT. N. a
I. O. O. r., meets at Odd Fellows' Hall onj c
the Unit aud Third Tuesday of each month. XxJ
Patriarchs in good standing aro invited toXX
attend.
MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1,
. noms regular communi
cations on the First aud Third Saturdays
in each month, at 7 iV1,,.l- . i. ,. .;,.
..i nepiemoer in tne JOth of March - and V
5 o'clock from the ath of M.r. h t. ti. S
' " '.''IU . LIU .11111
20th of September
Mt. LI . . .. L
uremreii iu j;ood tandinK' are
By order of v. M.
luviiu.r xo attend
IiUSI N E S S C A l D S
WARREN N. DAVIS. M. D.,
lliysi'ian and Surgeon.
Oraduate of the University of Pennsylvania.
OrrrcK at Cliff House.
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CAN BY, OREGON,
0,IJiyicia.i and Druggist.
Prescriptions carefully filled at short notice
ja7-tf
DR. JOHN WELCH,
QDENTIST.
vrriLt 1 OUKUON CITY OREGON.
Highest cash price paid for County Orders.
E.L. EASTHAN,
A T T O It X K Y-AT-It A W,
OREGON CITY, OREGON.
Special attuution given to business in the U S
Land OtHce. . -Oftlce
in Mycr's Brick.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
ATTORNEYS and COUNSELORS AT LAW
OREGON CI I.Y. OREGON.
Will practice in all the Courts of the State.
Special attention given to cases in the United
O States Land Ottlco at Oregon City. 5apr"72-tf
I. V. WiliD, OEOBOK A. HABDIXO.
WARD 8c HARDING,
KEEP CONSTANTLY ON HAND A GENEIUL
assortment of
Drugs and Chemical.
IVrfunmrr. Monpa.
4. omiM and Krualtei.
, r , MupiHtrtn.
Nhvaldrr Kram t'nnr and
Jollet trtirlm,
ALSO
Krr?f " Lamp Ihimn..
"'" 1 uUv Painu. !!..
taruUlir, aud IlirSiull-.
PURE WINES AND LIQUORS FOR
MEDICINAL PURPOSES.
PATENT MEDICINES, ETC., ETC.
I
-- va .
Jriesls, ai Apothecaries
8lu Physicians Prescriptions carefully com
O luudod. and all orders correctlv answered.
tt. Open at all hours of the night.
All accounts must be paid monthly.
O uovl.ldTitr WARD i HARDING.
W. H. HICHFIELD,
KHtultlUhod t-tljioo '-ItH.
One door North of Tope's Hall,
M AIN fT.. Hl.(i(X CITY, OUKUOK.
An assortment of Watches, Jewelry. andf?
Stn Thomas' Waiht Clocks, all of Vhich vyV
are warranted to be as represented. iST.tk
r fKepairing done on short notice; audthaukiul
for past patronaK.
KNlt laitl tor ( ouuly Ortlertt.
JOHN M. BACON,
DKALEB IN
BOOKS, STATIONERY.
PICTURE FRAMES, MOULDINGS AND MISCEL
LANEOUS GOODS.
i nmi: hadk to oiidek,
Obkoos Citt, Obkuos.
"At the Tost Omce, Main Street, west side.
uovl, '75-tf
A. C. WALLINC'S
Pioneer Book ISimlor
Pittock'a Building, cor. of Stark and Front Sts.,
PUKTL.1XD, ORKtiOX.
BLVXK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND TO ANY
desired pattern. Music Bocks, Magazine.
Nwpaprs. etc., bound in every variety of style
known to the trade. Order from the country
promptly attended to. novl, "75-tf
OREGON CITY BREWERY,
Having purchased the aboTe Brewery,;
wishes to Inform the publio that they arel
now prepared to manufacture a No. l
quality
OP LAGER BEER.
As good aa can be obtained anvwhere in the State.
Order solicited and promptly filled.
BLANKS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION FOR
bale at thigofhee. Justices of the Pccace can
Ktt anytning in their line.
-a"Iy
FLY, 1IAIIY NAIL.
BY TESSTBOS.
Fly, happy sails, and bear the press,
fly. happy with the mission of the cross.
Knit land to land, and blowing heavenward.
With silks, and fruits, and spices clear of toil.
Enrich the harvest of the Golden Year.
But we grow old. Ah ! when shall all men's good
Be each man's rule, and universal peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land.
And like a lane u! beams athwart the sea,
Throngh all the circle of the Golden Year?
MT Kill I AT SKA.
I stood beside the sea girt shore.
And I watched the white sails fade away ;
I wondered if the hopes they bore
Would to my heart return soiue day.
The menths flew on with winged feet.
And oft I watched, but watched in vain ;
The wild winds to my heart repeat.
"Thy ships will ne'er return again."
'Tis ever thus with human hopes.
The flowers we prize are first to die;
And as we fall 'neath fortune's strokes
" The ships will ne'er come back," we cry.
'CICELV-ALKALI STATIO.W
BY HKET H ARTE.
Cictly says you're a poet maybe; I ain't much on
ryme ;
I reckoned you'd give me a hundred, and beat mo
every time.
Poetry ! That's the way some chaps put up an
idee.
But I takes mine "straight without sugar," aud
that's what's the matter with me.
Poetry? Just look round you alkali, rock aud sage;
Sage-bush, rock and alkali ain't it a pretty page?'
Sun in the east at momln", sun iu the west at night.
And the shadow of this yer station the ou'y thing
moves in sight.
Poetry! Well, now Polly! Polly, run to your
main ;
Ruu right away, my pooty! By bv! Ain't she a
lamb ?
Poetry! That reminds mo o' suthing right in that
suit.
Jest shet that door thar, will yer? for Cicely's
t ars is cute.
Yc noticed Polly the baby? A month before she
was born, f
Cicely my old woman was moody-like aud for
lorn ;
Out of her head and crazy, and talked of flowers
and trees
Family man yourself, sir? Well, you knows what
a woman be's.
Nervous she was, and roslless said that she
"couldn't stay."
Stay and tk"e liiarent woman seventeen miles
away.
But I fixed it up with the doctor, and ho said ho
would be ou hand.
And I kinder stuck by ttio shanty and fenced in
that bit o' laud.
One night the teuth of October I awoko with a
chill and a fright.
For the door it was standing open, and Cicely
waru't in sight;
But a note was pined ou the blanket, which said
that she "couldn't stay,"
ut had gone to visit her neighbor seventeen
miles away.
When and how she stampeded I didn't wait for to
see.
For out in the road next mi nit, I started as wild as
she;
Running first this way and that way. like a hound
that is eff the scent.
For there warn't no track in the darkness to tell
me tho way she went.
I've had sAme mighty mean moment? afore I kem
to this spot
Lot on the plains in '50, drowned almost, and
shot ;
But out on this alkali desert, hunting a crazy wife
Was ra'ly as unsatisfactory as any thing in my life!
"Cicely! Cicely! Cicety!" I called and I held my
Breathe;
And "Cicely! " came from the canyon ann all was
still as death.
And "Cicely! Cicely! Cicely!" came from the rocks
below.
And jest but a whisper of "Cicely!" down from
tho peaks of snow.
1 ain't what you call religious; but I jest looked
up to the sky.
And this yer;s to what I'm coming, and may be vou
think I lie ;
But up away to the east'ard, yaller and big and far
I saw of a suddent rising the riug'lerst kind of star!
Big and yaller aud dancing, it seemed to beckon to
me;
Yaller and big and dancing, such as you never see
star 1 "nd ""-'inS. I never saw such a'
And I thought of them Miarps in the Bible and I
went for it then aud thar.
Over the brush and bowlders I stumbled and push
ed ahead ;
Keeping the htar afore me. I went wherever it led.
It might have been for an hour, when sudden aud
pert and nigh.
Out of the yearth afore me thar riz up a baby's
cry.
Listen! thar's the same music; but her lun"s tlicv
are strouger now "
Thau the day I packed her aud hor mother I'm
derned if I jest know how.
But the doctor came next minit ; jnd tho joke of
the whole thing is.
That Cis never knew what happened from that
very night to this !
But Cicely gays you're a poet; and maybe you
might some day.
Jest slim? her a ryme 'bout a baby that was born In
a curious way.
And see what she says; and old fellow, when you
speak of the star don't tell
As how 'twas the doctor's lautren for maybe
"twon't sound so well.
MIKE.
Mike lived iu Fljnn's Court. There
are plenty of just such courts in every
large city, running away from wider
streets, as if afraid, narrow by nature
first, and rendered more so by heaps of
unexplored deposit afterward. Mike
lived in a house with ninety -seven other
souls, all packed uncomfortably close
together, of many nationalities and
scolding tongues. II was nine years
old, and not a very good boy for his
age. In summer he wore a pair of
trousers that were always too long
though by pulling them up to his arm
pits ho did his best for them and a
jacket that made up for their excess by
n corresponding derieiencv. lie wore
no hat most of the time when he sat in
the court hurling his whole vocabulary
of slang and impertinence at boys up in
tho windows opposite, but there were
days when he submitted to the conven
tionality of a straw ruin, whoso brim
hung low on his slim young shoulders,
lie was not a handsome boy at all, with
the sole exception of his thick, curling
hair, which had never been short with
in tho memory of any one durin"- the
six years that ho had been well known
in his neighborhood. His nose turned
up, and was sprinkled over with freckles
on a foundation of tan; his mouth
seemed loosely formed, as if not yet
decided on its shape for life; and his
eves, light blue and wide apart, winked,
glanced, blinked, leered and stared in
ever and surprising rapidity. He used
to stand and dance a clog by himself
tho brim of his hat flopping "with each
leap, his bare, dirty feet moving quick
ly to the whistling of the undecided
mouth, hands in pocket, eyes winking,
trousers fluttering about his ankles, all
alone with the rubbish heaps and the
court mua, tne sun, the dingy house,
one pet cat, and his own ille, ill-regulated
thonghts.
Mike had a father who worked with a
pickaxe on city jobs during tho day,
and went to meetings of Penian Broth
erhoods, Wolf Tono Circles, and the
like, at night. He was interested in tho
freedom of Ireland, theoretically speak
ing, and his family saw little of him.
Perhaps, illiterate man though he ws,
he differed not greatly from those who
go to clubs of a better sort, with pro
jects more refined, who would never
recognize anything in themselves akin
to Mr. OToolo following, blindly, im
praetieally that Irish chimera, that will-o'-the-wisp
of her uneducated sons.
Mike's mother took in washing when
she could get it, and went out by day
when she could not. Coarse of skin,
luxuriant and unkempt of hair, untidy
of dress, she worked hard when she did
work, but it hardly sufficed for lier
many children and her occasional al
lowance of liquor, her only recreation.
Do not call her "as bad as a thief and a
criminal;" wo have finer tastes than
hers, thanks to education, and can not
easily put ourselves in her place.
Mike's older brothers and sisters
idled, or worked by the day in differ
ent employments, generally coming
home at night, and Mike, like them at
his age, ran wild. He went to school,
but his teacher sent him home every
day to have his clothes mended and his
hair brushed ; but as he never could find
the comb, he did not go back that day.
Finally he went, back no more; and at
twelves in the multiplication table,
while still vague about the rnap of South
America, and wandering in the mazes
of articles and pronouns, Mike's educa
tion stopped.
lie was not particularly popular, but
his social instincts were so strong that
he would rather be with a cat or dog or
a very small bo- than be alone. He
sometimes playe.l for one morning with
some little boy with a broad collar and
and bright buttons and clean hands;
but Mike noticed that he never could
get the same one twice; ho had orders
not to cross the street next time.
Once a little girl with curls and long
ribbons on her hat asked him to come
and play under her steps. Mike was
not diffident, and went readily.
"What makes you have your hair so
short in front?" asked Mike, after sit
ting down comfortably.
"Oh, because," she replied, pleasantly-
"Comb it yourself?" was the next
question.
"No," replied the little girl.
"Is your comb always round ?"
"Mamma combs my hair," she an
swered; "don't yours?"
"Don't your mamma brush yours
when people dine with you ?"
"Wot's dine?"
"Why, cat, of course."
"No, you don't," exclaimed Mike;
'that don't go down. Don't try that on
me."
Just hore a strong hand lifted Mike
by the jacket collar, and hurled him
into the street like a kitten. "Get out
of here, you dirty little wretch, you!"
from the servant's disgusted lungs,
came after him. Then Miko turned and
screamed out his whole list of impreca
tions, slang and abuse at tho door
slammed in his undesirable face.
Once he taught a nice boy his entire
stock of street slang, with its newest
additions, and he never saw that boy
again but once, and then tho nice little
boy ran as if Mike were tho small-pox.
Constant receptions of this kind made
him lose somo of his native independ
ence with nice children. He grew to
dread servants, to expect snubs, to ac
cept coolness as his due, to be left
alone, to be passed with no "hollo" of
recognition to his own signal.
So he used to hang on the outskirts of
a small society of little ladies and gen
tlemen who drew aside their dress as
they passed him with tho cool stare of
experience. Ho chased cats in the
court sometimes; ho hung on passing
buggies till whipped off, climbed upon
ice teams, took an interest in hacks
standing for weddings or funerals,
threw rotten fruit at the guardians of
the peace and dodged, snow-balled
every body, and smoked the ends of
cigars. lie never had any skates in
winter nor ball in summer. He fished
off the wharf sometimes, but seldom
caught any thing. fie grew accom
plished in whistling tunes of the "Mul
ligan Guards" type.
Somo ono put him into a mission
Sunday school once, but he had to sit
still and think, and he was not used to
it, so he did not go again. Ho was al
ways ragged, and often hungry, and he
mostly ate his bread and molasses in
the street, when it was not too cold; for
the sake of company. He did not have
much of what we call chara.ter; ho was
not original; he did not have indefatig
able persoverence, or any thing of the
kind; but then he was only niue years
old.
He used to look into the windows of
the periodical stores, and read the titles
of the dime novels with delight; he rev
eled in the wood-prints of "One Eye,
the Scourge," and stood long before
the fascinating pictures descriptive of
"Snarleyow, the Dog Fiend," And so
looking and dreaming in his own way,
he decided that a trapper's life was the
life for him. He had small conceptions
of distance, and thought some hunting
grounds might be found near the termi
nus of the horso railway; so he made
preparations for the work. One five
cent loaf, a jack-knife with two blades,
one piece of clothes-line five feet long,
for capturing deer, buffalo or any thing
of that sort, and six cents, comprised
his outfit. He knew trappers had a tent
usually, and a slouched hat and black
mustache; but not being able to manage
either, reluctantly left them out. One
chilly, gray day, late in November, he
wrapped up his possessions, confided
his secret to the latest nice boy he
knew, who recoiled with horror, and
Jthen, his father and mother being out,
and his elder brothers and sisters scat
tered or quarreling, Mike sat out on hi
travels. He took a car, and, by dex
trous jumping off and on, managed to
save his fare, and when the horses were
unloosed at the end of tjio route,' he
ran. There were too many houses about
there, but he saw trees in the distance,
and went toward them. The street was
long, but at last, by climbing up high
on the rocks above the road, he found
the trees. A rough country it was,
Mike thought, and it was growing cold,
but he walked on. It was lonesome
too, and . Mike wished that he had
brought his next younger brother, but
it was too late now. It began to snow,
and soon snowed hard. Mike looked
round him, a little frightened. He fell,
too, once or twice, for the rocks were
steep and slippery. "I wonder where
the deer are ?" thought he. He had
heard that a whistle would call them,
so he tried "Captain Jinks" aDd the
"Mulligan Guards," but both failed of
their object, and it was growing rapidly
dark. J ust then a canary, bewildered
and evidently hurt, hopped close to
him, then flew a little. Miko gave
chase. Loaf under his arm, rope in
hand, he ran farther and farther. The
bird, though evidently weak, went fast
er than he. It was dark. He lost sight
of it, ran forward and fell.
They did not find him for several
days. The snow had fallen very thick
for that time of the year, and it was
bitterly cold. On the fourth day, a
party of gentlemen, walking out after
dinner from the great house on whose
grounds Mike had gone hunting, with
cigars and light talk, came suddenly
upon something half buried in the
snow, amid bushes and stones, with
high bare shrubs above it something
lying so still that, though they hushed
their tones, the loudest laugh would
not wake it. The gentlemon lifted the
childish figure in the ragged jacket and
long trousers extended at the foot' of
tho steep rock, and the dead canary
near him. Such an unfinished little
life to end so soon! 'Such an ignorant
child to have gone so far on the long
journey!
nis parents mourned and buried him
after their fashion; and that was all, ex
cept that one of the gentlemen, who was
an artist, being struck with something
picturesque in the circumstances,
painted the picture as he saw it, and
people praised it, as an expression of a
phase of human life, very much. Fi
nally a lady bought it. and it is seen by
those who know mostly of lives like
this through art, and they feel its
pathos; often their voices tremble as
they turn away.
The picture shows them a high rough
rock and leafless shrubs, and at their
base, half hidden under a large stone
which has fallen upon him, a little boy
with long heavy hair lies stretched, tho
rope and bread close beside him, and
near by a dead canary The artist calls
his picture "Death."
There may be shown in Mike" some
grand meaning in his little worthless
life here whan he has grown to be a man,
and looks back upon it from the great
far country.
Mistaken Kindness. We very often
meet with youflg men who. at the age of
twenty-one, are no more fitted to fight
the battle of life than most boys are at
sixteen. This is often, to an extent at
least, the fault of friends who, through
mistaken kindness, have taken upon
themselves the thinking and reasoning
that should have been done by thoso
they so urgently desire to assist. In
other cases it arises from alack of force
of character in the young men that in
duces them to rely on their friends for
advice and counsel rather than exert
themselves to the extent necessary to
form an opinion on which to found a
judgment. One of the first lessons a
man should be taught is that of self
relianee. Let him seek the advice of
older and wiser people if he will; good
counsel harms no one; but should care
fully consider all they say, and then de
cide for himself; sometimes, perhaps
often, he will decide -wrongly but
every wrong decision is, or should be,
a valuable lesson. Friends may prop
erly be used as counsellors and guides,
but not as leaning posts or staffs. Learn
another's stroke if you think it better
than j'ours, then padille your own ca
noe. Floats and life preservers aro
often very serviceable but they are not
always at hand iu time of danger, and
he is wise who learns to swim without
their assistance. Until a boy can learn
to rely upon his own judgment, he will
never bo a man, in reality, no matter
what his age may be.
Toys vou Children. Wo cordially
approve of the custom of giving toys to
children. True, for some reasons it
seems as though money were wasted
when expended on a wagon, the wheels
of which are not round; or on a Noah's
Ark with animals which refuse to stand
firmly on uneven legs; and the intend
ing purchaser almost turns from the
poor, cheap toys with the intention of
buying for tho little friends whoso hap
piness he has at heart something useful,
beautiful and permanent; but remem
bering the time when a new knife, or a
top, or a paper of candy, or a regiment
of tin soldiers was of more value in his
eyes than much fine gold, he purchases
what seems to him trash and proves to
others genuino treasures. If such a
change has taken place between the
tastes, pleasures and opinions of boy
hood and those of manhood, is there
any reason to think that we shall never
grow weary of the possessions and
pleasures of middle life which now
seem so satisfying to us? Will rare and
curious books, statues, vases and paint
ings ever appear as worthless in our
eyes aa toys? Shall we not, in our se
rene old age, look back upon tht things
which pleased us in middle life, and re
gard them as mere toys? Let us, then,
consider the children, and make them
happy while they still retain the capaci
ty for being amused by simple things.
" COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY,
The Parisian Salon.
Every movement, artistic, literary,
and social, of the last century emanated
from the numerous and brilliant salons
of Paris. Thenco issued the " Ency
clopedic " of Diderot and d'Alembert,
the satires of Voltaire, the " de l'Es
prit " of Helvetius, the " Systeme de la
Nature" of Holbach, and all that flood
of atheistical and subversive literature
which deluged France and Europe with
infidelity, and culminated in the great
revolution. French society may bo said
to have been born in the salon. Yet tho
salon was not a French creation; that
honor belongs to an Italian lady, Cath
arine. Marquise de ltambouillet, who,
being brought to France by her hus
band, found the manners of the court
of Henri le Grand so coarse to her re
fined Roman taste that she resolved to
create a circle of her own, to which
only thoso distinguished for refinement
of manners and intellectual proclivities
should be admitted. It was just at this
period that France, having recovered
from the devastating" wars of the
League, and now enjoying a hitherto
unknown prosperity, thanks to the wise
government of tho king and his minis
ter Sully, began to awaken to intellect
ual life; consequently the marquise
found numbers eager and willing to en
ter into her project. The Parisians of
thoso days were as rude and coaso in all
matters of taste as were their neighbors,
the English and Germans; their furni
ture was clumsy, their decorations were
heavy, and the prevailing colors were
red and tan. Imagine then, tho con
trast presented by apartments hung
with delicate blue velvet trimmed with
gold, adorned with beautiful paintings
by the great Italian masters, a thousand
elegancies and a profusion of flowers,
that make the apartments a brilliant
garden. In the course of time tho
marquise's assemblies became the su
preme tribunal of taste and authority
in all matters relating to language and
literature. Here every poet of renown
read his verses, every dramatist his
plays, and received judgment before
giving them to the vnlgar world, nere
the French language was fixed, and ev
ery word put upon its trial, to bo ban
ished forever as vulgar or adjudged fit
for polite lips. Here was suggested to
Richelieu the idea which afterward took
the practical form of the Aeademie
Francaise. Here were developed tho?e
polished and elegant manners which
until the Revolution rendered the
French noble the gentleman par excel
lence of Europe, and the French lan
guage the most correct, piquant, and
perfect medium of conversation of all
modern tongues. Here modern society
was created; and it was here that wo
man first began to exercise a marked in
fluence upon the national life, which,
while it softened and refined the man
ners, proved so disastrous to France in
the persons of Maintenons and Du Bar
rys. Here, also, arose that school of
exaggerated gallantry and sentiment
which afforded Moliere and his contem
poraries such splendid objects of satire.
Under the marquise and her yet more
celebrated daughter Julie, the Hotel de
llambouillet rose to its highest fame
about 1G30, and kept its position until
the troubles of the Fronde rebellion
closed it in 1G15. During all these
years it cannot but be sup2Ksed but
that imitations of theso assemblies had
sprnng up. Marion de Lorme and Ni
non de l'Enclos, the Lais and Aspasia of
the period, opened their houses to all
that was witty, gay, and licentious.
Then there were the coteries of tho fe
male Frondeurs, the brilliant Madame
do Chevreuso, the beautiful Madame do
Longueville. Nor must we forget the
poet Scarron , over whose gatherings the
future Madame de Maintenon presided.
But the true successor of Catharine de
Ilambouillet was Madame de Scudery.
the once famous novelist, the author of
"Le Grand Cyrus," " Clelie," "Ibra
him," romances in ten volumes! It was
in her salons that Moliere found his
" Precieuses llidicules" and his
" Femmes Savantes." Here love and
gallantry were reduced to a code of
rules, any infringement of which was
punished by expulsion from the society.
Plain Talk to a Girl. Your every
day toilet is a part of your character.
A girl who looks like a " fury " or a
sloven in the morning, is not to be
trusted however finely she may look in
the evening. No matter how humble
your room may be, there are eight
things it should contain, viz: a mirror,
washstand, soap, towel, comb, hair, nail
and tooth brushes. These are just as
essential as your breakfast, before which
you should m3te good and free use of
them. Parents who fall to provide
their children with such appliances not
only make a great mistake, but commit
a sin of omission. Look tidy in the
morning, and after the dinner work is
over improve your toilet. Make it a
rule of your daily lifo to " dress up"
iu the afternoon. Your dress may or
may not be anything better than calico,
but with a ribbon or ilower, or some bit
of ornament, yon can have an air of self
respect and satisfaction that invariably
comes with being well dressed.
Ornamental. Owners of country
houses can ornament their grounds at
very little expense, if they choose to
sacrifice some time and exercise some
taste. Small out-housea, grape-vine ar
bors and frequented walks may not only
be made beautiful ornaments to the gar
den, but shady resting places, where
those who so desire, in the heat of the
summer day, or ovendnring warm, sun
shiny winter weather, may find a pleas
ant retreat. There are scores of hardy
vines that, with' a trifle of care may be
made to cover such arbors, rendering
them most attractive in themselves, and
objects which, together, serve to form
the out-door attractions of home. It is
a matter of suiprise when we think of
these things, that the grounds about so
many country dwellings are, as from
choice, utterly neglected.
January came, thaw and conquered.
Rochester Democrat.
: i.
Horrors of the Siberian Mines.
PRISONERS WHO NEVE It SEE THE LIGHT OF
DAY A PRISON PEN WHERE NO CON
VICT RETURNS ALIVE.
The exiles who live in the mines are
convicts of the worst type and political
offenders of the best. The murderer
for his villainy, the intelligent Polish
rebel for his patriotism, are deemed
equally worthy of the punishment of
slow death. Thev never see the light
of day, but work and sleep all the year
round in the depths of the earth, extract
ing silver or quicksilver under the eyes
of task-masters who have orders not to
spare them. Iron gates, guarded by
sentries, close to the lodes, or streets,
at the bottom of the shafts, and the
miners are railed off from one another
jn gangs of twenty. They sleep within
recesses hewn out of the rock very
kennels into which they must creep
on all fours. Prince Joseph Lumbom
irski, who was authorized to visit ono
of the mines of the Oural at a time when
it was not suspected he would ever pub
lish an account of his exploration in
French, has given an appalling account
of what he saw. Convicts raked with
the joint-pains which quicksilver pro
duces; men whose hair and eyebrows
had dropped off, and who were gaunt as
skeletons, were kept to hard labor un
der the lash. They have only two holi
days a year, Christmas and Easter; and
all other days, Sundays included, they
must toil until exhausted nature robs
them of the use of their limbs, when
they are hauled out to die in the infirm
ary. . Five years in the quicksilver pits are
enough to turn a man of thirty into an
apparent sexagenarian, but some have
been known to struggle on for ten
years. No man who has served in the
mines is ever allowed to return home;
the most he can obtain in the way of
grace is leave to come up and work in
the road gangs, and it is the promise of
this favor as a reward for industry
which operates even more than the lash
to maintain discipline.
Women are employed in the mines as
sifters, and get no better treatment than
the men. Polish ladies by the dozen
have been sent down to rot and die,
while St. Petersburg journals were de
claring that they were living as free col
onists; and, more recently, ladies con
nected with Nihilist conspiracies have
been consigned to the mines in pursu
ance of a sentence of hard labor. It
must always be understood that a sen
tence of Siberian hard labor means
death. The Russian Government well
knows that to live for years in the atro
cious tortues of the mines is human
ly impossible, and, consequently, the
use of a euphemism to replace the term
capital punishment is merely of a piece
with the hypocrisy of all official state
ments in Russia. Once a week a pope,
himself an exile, goes down into the
mines to bear the consolations of relig
ion, under the form of a sermon, en
joining patience. By the same. occasion
he drives a lively trade in vodki.
The miners who live habitually on
tschi and black bread, are allowed a ko
peck for a good day's work, and this
sum invariably goes for drink. Perhaps
the raw, rancid spirit serves to keep up
their strength; anyhow, the intoxication
it brings on affords the unfortuuates
the only drug of comfort they can ex
pect on earth. One shudders to think
of the state of the belter educated men
who refuse the consolation of occasion
ally drowning their sorrows in liquor.
What must be the plight of professors,
journalists, land-owners, who have
been condemed to die by inches for the
crime of emitting liberal opinions,
which in England bring a man to a great
honor and comfort on every side?
Married Off Hand. A wedding as
abrupt, if not as fantastic, as Mr. Wem
mick's took place 'on New Year's night,
at Marlboro, on the Hudson. During
the afternoon a well known resident of
the village called on the Rev. Dr. Os
bon and invited him to dinner at six
o'clock. "Bring a marriage certificate
with you," said the host, "we may have
a wedding here to night." The doctor
is a disci eet man and did as he was told.
At his friend's house he met a large
company, and after dinner was an
nounced tcok his seat at tho well-appointed
table. The host undertook to
carve the turkey, but made such bung
ling of his duties that one of the guests
was constrained to remark to him, "You
should get married; then your wife
would teach you the proper way to do
these things." The host did not deny
the seft impeachment, but told what
manner of woman he should like for a
wife, ending by saying: "Now, before
we proceed further, s'pose we take a
vote as to whom I shall marry." The
company entered into the the canvass
with great hilarity, and after the vote
was taken it was declared that the host
was in duty bound to marry his house
keeper, a young and well-educated lady
who had p resided over tho establish
ment for more than one year. The
young lady had stepped into the kitch
en to give some final directions to tho
cook, and whoa she returned she was
informed of the views of the company.
She was completely taken aback, but
after tho ladies had coaxed her to give
her consent, she placed herself in the
hands of her friends. "Halloo! let's
get married now," exclaimed the host,
with the iniperturable Wemmick's self
possession. The dinner was suspended
indeed, it had scarcely begun; the
bride took off her whitelapron ; the bride
groom dropped his napkin; the two were
made one; the marriage certificate was
signed; and the company kissed the
bride and then sat down to dinner with
a first rate appetite. The next day a
spinistor in the neighborhood, hearing
whatjbad happened, raised her hands
toward heavenand exclaimed, in a spirit
of true devoutness, " Lord, how sud
den! there's no tellin' whose turn'll
come next!"
A little boy will never willingly re
linquish any of his cakes except his
spank-aches.
What it is we Drink.
The following recipes, which were
found in an establishment that was
seized by Sheriff's officers in New York
City recently, will be interesting, as
showing that there is a vast difference
between pure and adulterated liquors:
OLD BjURBON WHISKY.
40 gallons pure spirits,
"5 gallons good Bourbon whisky,
2 ounces spirits of nitre,
2 ounces fusil oil (from corn) cut in
alchol.
Stand four days and use it.
DARK COGNAC BRANDY.
59J, gallons pure spirit (first proof),
1 pint brandy coloring,
1 pound essence of cognac, mixed with
1 quart alcohol, 95 per cent.
CHERRY BRANDT.
4,S4 gallons pure spirit (first proof),
2 pounds best sugar,
1 drachm oil of bitter almond.
Color it very dark.
HOLLAND GIN.
GJ4 gallons pure spirit (first proof),
Yt ounce oil of juniper, dissolved in
1 pint alcohol, 95 per cent.,
2 pounds sugar.
PORT WINE.
27 gallons new cider,
C gallons cherry brandy.
5 gallons pure spirit,
2 gallons sugar spirit,
4 pounds alcanet root,
xt pound tartaric acid,
2 ounces alum.
CHAJIPAONB.
40 gallons cider,
3 pounds loaf sugar,
2 ounces crystalized tartaric acid,
i quart yeast.
3 gallons water,
4 gallons pure spirit, 15 per cent, un
der proof.
Let it stand ten days, fine and bottle
it if sparkling; if not sparkling, again
fine it and add more acid, and this pro
cess should be repeated until it is suit
able for bottling. When bottled, put
in each bottle a piece of sugar, the size
of a pea, then cork and wire the bottle,
covering it with tinfoil, after the man
ner of champagne.
An Heroic Rescue from the Flaiteb
A fire which occurred in St. Andrew's
parish, London, a few weeks ago, pre
sented unusual features of peril to hu
man life and of gallantry in rescue.
An old stone mansion house which
could be reached only from the front
was discovered to be on fire, and the
flames were wll under way in the inte
rior before the alarm was given and men
came to the rescue. The excavation of
the street in front of the house for sew
erage purposes made it impossible to
approach the burning building from
the front with fire-escape apparatus or
with extinguishers. Through the smoke,
the forms of two people could be seen
at the upper window and, with tho
stairway below in flames and no possi
bility of reaching the window with lad
ders from the street, it became a prob
lem how to rescue them. The adjacent
buildings were accessible, and it was
only a moment's work after tho arrival
of a rope for two men of the Fire Bri
gade to carry it over the roof of tho
burning building and by means of it
re&ch the half-suffocated persons at the
windows. They lacked strength to save
themselves by clinging to the rope and
making their way to the adjacent roofs,
but they were successfully carried out
and saved, by an ingenious expedient,
from what otherwise was a certainty of
death by fire.
TnAT Electric Current. The man
who doesn't believe that there is an
electric current passing between the
minds of human beings should have
been at the Central depot last evening
when a train went out just forty seconds
ahead of a man who had planned to bo
in Chicago this morning. He ran down
the depot, yelling and gesticulating,
but he could neither stop the train tor
overtake it. When he stopped ho was
close beside a boot-black, who had wit
nessed the whole performance, and with
a grin clear around to his ears, tho boy
observed:
"No, it. can't, for Beeeher says there's
no such place !"
The stranger looked at him for about
a minute and then handed him a quar
ter and turned away. Now, if there is
not a mental electric current, how did
that boy know wha: that man was think
ing of?
The Largest War Vessel. The new
ironclad, Italia, which the Italian Gov
ernment are having constructed at Cas
tellamare, will, it is said, be the largest
vessel of war in the world. Its greatest
length will be 120 metres; breadth 22
metres; draught of water 8.50 metres;
displacement 13,000 tons; and weight
of the hull alone 5,000 tons. Ita arma
ment will consist of guns, the exact
weight of which is not yet known, but
it is at all event to exceed 100 tons, and
the iron plates with which the hull is
to be protected will be 55 centimetres
thick. It is estimated that the con
struction and armament of this gigan
tic vessel will cost at least twenty mil
lion francs, about 800,000.
Entrrtaining Compant. In winter,
it is pleasant for young folk to give and
attend social parties, if they aro not
made too expensive for people of mod
erate means. The custom of preparing
ae extravagant supper, particularly
when there are no servants to perform
the drudgery, is a foolish one. Now if
wo will have parties; if we are to enjoy
this life and derive pleasure from so
ciety while we may, let us adopt a sim
pler method of entertainment, and,
during the evening our friends spend
with us, pass around fruit and cake in
au informal way. That will cost com
paratively little, but will prove that we
are hospitably inclined, and is a suffi
cient evidence of welcome.
" Is it a good taste for girls to giggle
at f uncials 1" is the query in Western
Alabama. A girl who can't cry at a
funeral wonld not be a good hand to
do up a sore toe.
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