THE ADYEETISEB.
G. W. FAIRBROTHER & CO., Publishers.
BROWNVILLE,
NEBRASKA
GUARD THE FACT.
Speak thou the truth, let othera fence,
And trim their -words for pay; .
In pleasant sunshine of pretense
Let others bask their day.
Guard thou the fact,though clouds of night
Down on thy watch tower stoop,
Thongh thou shouldst see thy heart's delight
Borne from thee by their swoop.
Face thou the wind; though safer seem
In shelter to abide.
"We are not made to sit and dream,
The safe must first be tried.
Show thou the light If conscience gleam.
Set not thy bushel down.
The smallest spark may send a beam
O'er hamlet, tower and town.
Woe unto him on safety bent,
"Who creeps from age to youth
Failing to grasp his life's intent,
Because he fears the truth.
Be true to every Inmost thought.
And as thy thought, thy speech.
"What thou hast not by striving bought
Presume -thou not to teach.
Then each wild gust the mist shall clear
We now see darkly through,
And Justified at last appear
The true, in Him that's true.
GREELEY'S BROTHER.
The Old Greeley Farm In Erie County,
Pennsylvania.
Cincinnati Enquirer.
TrrnsvHJX, Pa., Nov. 25. Twenty
three miles from here, on one of the
barren knobs of Erie county, lives Na
than Barnes Greeley, the only brother
of Horace Greeley. To-day I visited
him at his home. Leaving the cars on
the New York, Pennsylvania & Ohio
railroad at Cony, Pa., a ride for five
miles over a road wretched even for a
country highway brought me to the
'Old Greeley Farm," as it is called by
the neighbors.
"Horace Greeley's brother lives in the
first house on the hill after you pass the
cheese factory," said a native, and I
watched anxiously for the cheese facto
ry and for the hill. The country was
very poor. The farms through which I
drove were, I think, among the very
poorest in the state. 1 saw but two
comfortable looking farm houses on the
way. Past the cheese factory, and on
top of the hill I saw a tumble-down
house to the right of the road, and a
very poor barn nearly facing it on the
left. The house on the right was the
Greeley homestead, where Barnes Gree
ley now lives, where Horace Greeley
passed some of his boyhood days, and
where his father and mother both died.
It is a miserable looking place for the
home of the brother of Horace Greeley.
Everything about the farm has a tumble-down
look. The old barn is in bad
repair, the fences are down, and the
house, a one story-and-a-half wooden
structure, is decidedly shabby. The
house is old fashioned, having been built
many years ago. A deep porch runs
the entire length of it. There is almost
as much room on the porch as there is
in the house. A one-horse wagon part
ly filled with pumpkins and potatoes
stood out in the rain in the front yard.
An old man at Corry had said to me:
"Barnes Greeley is a mighty poor farm
er," and a glance at the" premises told
me he was right.
There "was no fence in front of the
house, which stood back a short distance,
and, the mud being ankle deep, I drove
up to the door. An old man, gray and
ragged, issued up from an inside cellar
door, with a basket on his arm. He
was tall and spare, slightly stooped.
His garb at first sight, on account of a
ragged overcoat and a torn felt hat, ap
peared shabbier than the average farm
er wears about home.
"Is this where Mr. Greeley lives?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is he at home?"
"I am Mr. Greeley."
I told him I had come twenty-three
miles to see the brother of .Horace Gree
ley. This seemed to please the old man,
who is nearly seventy, and, although it
was raining, he took off his torn hat,
and, bowing, said:
"Well, here 1 am."
The removal of the hat made him
look quite a diflerent man, and I saw at
once a close resemblance to his illustri
ous brother. He has a head shaped like
Horace's, and almost as bald. He wears
a full, long beard, which shows traces
of having Deen sandy, but is now quite
gray.
The old man showed me into the
house, threw his ragged overcoat on the
porch, and gave me the best of three
chairs in the room, which were all more
or less rickety. The appearance of the
room denoted absolute want. There
was nothing in it but the three broken
chairs and a rusty cooking stove. The
room had been plastered, out the plas
tering had fallen off, both from the
walls and ceiling, leaving the lath ex
posed. I looked for a picture of Horace
on the will, but there was no picture of
any kind. The room appeared to be
sitting-room, dining-room and kitchen
all in one. The floor was bare and not
very clean. A little bare-legged girl
came in and stared at me before Mr.
Greeley joined me. I asked if she was
Miss Greeley, and she said: "Yes,
xi&m."
When Mr. Greeley came in he took a
chair without a back and leaned against
the wall. With his overcoat off, 1 saw
he was dressed in a suit of brown jeans,
consisting of pants and a "wammus."
The "wammus' reached just to the top
of his trousers, and fitted him tight
around the waist and was loose across
the breast. The old gentleman gave
me his views on the political situation,
and did it very glibly and intelligently.
"I am," said he, "a greenbacker
t clean through. I will have nothing to
: do with either of the old parties. One
, harps about the solid south, and the
bloody shirt, for the reason that they
dare not discuss the real issues before
the people." He then gave me what he
considered to be the issue that ought to
o before the people, which was simply
le greenback doctrine of finance.
I asked him for some reminiscence of
I Horace Greeley as boy at home, but he
knew but little of his childhood. Hor
ace had left home when very young,
and he saw him only at long intervals.
When Horace came to the Greeley
homestead, where Barnes Greeley now
lives, he was about 19 years old. He
remained on the farm but a short time.
"He had a black sore on his chin," said
Mr. Greeley, "and he devoted most of
his time to doctoring that. It was a
pretty bad sore, and Horace was afraid
'pi it I remember he attempted to
help us on the farm, but he was very
kwkward. He was about as awkward
aad useless on a farm as I would be in a
brinting office. No, indeed, what Hor
ce Greeley knew about farming at that
ime was mighty little."
"Did he ever know much about farm
ng?" "He was a book farmer. He had
tudied the subject a great deal and was
ta enthusiast. He raised some very
Ine crops on his celebrated farm, but
hey all cost him far more than they
irere worth, as everybody knows."
Horace's visits home were very rare.
Ic may have returned twice. I was
ild that he came home to attend the
aneral of his mother, who died some
fteen years ago. His father, whose
&me waa Ezekiel, died twelve years
feo.
Barnes Greeley related this incident
to me: "When Lincoln was elected I
took a notion that I would like to have
the appointment of mail agent on one
of our local roads. The salary was
1,000 a year, which was a big thing for
me. I knew Horace could get me the
appointment. I spent some money
traveling around and getting recom
mendations, and succeeded in getting
what I thought was sufficient I had
letters from a number of the leading
business men along the route, as well as
from the party men, and these I for
warded to Horace, with a letter asking
him to help me. What do you suppose
he did? He wrote back, returning my
recommendations, with the information
penned in his own hand, that he could
get the appointment for me without the
slightest trouble, but that he didn't
want to do it. He wanted me to stick
to the farm. He said I was the only
boy at home, and he thought it best
that I should stay there. I wrote back
and explained to him that I could be at
home quite frequently; that at that time
the salary of $1,000 a year would help
me out very considerably; that another
partj' had offered to take the position
for 500 a year. I wound up dv urging
him to help me to the appointment.
His reply was this: 'If another man
offers to do this service for 500, and
you expect 1,000, that is excellent rea
son why you should not have it. If
vou had it the government would be
losing 500 a year.' In the same letter
he made me this proposition: 'Stay on
the farm, and if I do not raise more
corn on two than you do on ten acres,
I will give you 100.' Not being in a
position to better myself, I stayed on
my farm and accepted his proposition.
1 picked out ten acres of as good ground
as I had and planted it in com. He
planted two acres. When we meas
ured up in the fall, I had beaten him
just twenty-five bushels of ears, and he
sent me his check for 100."
Rachel's Phedre.
Richard Grant Wnltc In January Atlantic
Phedre is for one reason, if for no
other, a character difficult and dang t
ous to attempt, The play opens on a
high key. The heroine makes her first
appearance before us with a soul con
sumed and a body shattered by her de
vouring passion and the wrestlings of
her soul and sense. As Rachel tottered
upon the stage we looked wonderingly
forward in vague and vain conjecture
as to what could be the end of such a
beginning; for it seemed as if the cli
max were already reached. And so, in
truth, it was; but it was not ended.
Her Phedre was a prolonged climax of
agony, through which she revealed the
stages of passion and hope and hate and
despair by which she had reached it.
Her Phedre died, indeed, but only that
the tragedy might end. Her poison was
needless. It was because her veins were
burning with a fiercer, subtler venom
that the tragedy began; and she herself
had begun to die before she confessed
in our hearing the thought for which
alone she lived. Rachel made us know
and feel all this. When Rachel played
characters like Lady Tartuffe, she looked
like a thoroughly bad and utterly de
praved woman; when she played Phedre
she looked like a female fiend. And
this not because of any change wrought
in the lines of her face by "making up,"
but because of the expression she as
sumed. She did not look thus when she
came off the stage in the course of an
act, nor before she went on. This fiend
ishness of look made one near to shud
der at the hell of mortal hate that flamed
into her face as she shrieked, "(Enone,
qui l'eut cru; j'avais une rivale!" Her
cry, Aricie a son coeur, Aricie a sa
foi!" was like the utterence of the agony
of a damned soul. When she cursed
CEnone we did not wonder that the
guilty nurse cowered before her, and
lied to drown her memory of all this
woe in death.
Of this grand, dreadful, almost pain
ful impersonation Mademoiselle Bern
hardt's is a weak imitation, a pale, faded
copy: whether a deliberate imitation or
not I shall notflsay: whether direct or not
I cannot tell, for I do not know Made
moiselle Bernhardt's age. But the tra
ditions of Rachel's Phedre live in the
criticism of her day; they live in Paris
in the memories of all lovers of the dra
ma who have reached middle age; they
live in sketches and painted poriaits;
and above all they live in the foyer of
the Theatre Francais. On those tradi
tions Mademoiselle Bernhardt has
formed her Phedre; seeking, neverthe
less, we may be sure, to give to the im
personation some individual traits of
her owl imagining. But in this respect
she has been able to do very little. Nor
is it at all surprising, or in the least to
her discredit, that her Pheyre is essen
tially a copy of Rachel's. Rachel's con
ception and impersonation of that char
acter was not only grand and strong and
vivid beyond that of any other actress
who has attempted it, but it was the re
sult of a perception of the only ideal of
the character that made it tolerable in
art. A Phedre in whom bad passion
and deadly hate were aggrandized by
an intensity and sublimation of fiend
ishness that made her a demi-goddess of
the infernal sort was at least terrible
and wonderful: a Phedre with a touch
of true womanly feeling would be revolt
ing. Phedre must not need forgiveness;
she must be incapable of repentance.
To admire Phedre, to endure her, we
must have no sympathy with her. This
was Rachel's Phedre, aud thenceforward
there can be no other.
The Last of His Line.
Detroit Free Press.
We were grieved to read the other day
of the death of one of Michigan's jolliest
pioneer editors almost the last man of
a band who published weeklies in the
State when a coonskin would pay foi a
column "ad," and three bushels of corn
dumped on the office floor stood for a
year's subscription. Never a publisher
was more liberal with his space. It was
hard work for him to charge for any
thing except the tax list and mortgage
sales, and he measured short even on
them. One day in the years gone by
his paper copied an attack on a county
official, and old Mark was dozing at his
desk when the injured party stalked in
in and began:
"You are a coward, sir a d
coward!"
"Mebbel am," wao the editor's com
placent reply.
"And I can lick you, sir lick you out
of your wrinkled old boots!"
"I guess you could," answered Mark,
as he busted the wrapper off his only
exchange.
"I am going to write an article call
ing you a fool, liar, coward, cur, slan
derer, and body-snatcher, and go over
to Iona and pay five cents a line to have
it published!"
"Hey?" qeuried the old man as he
wheeled around.
"Yes, I'll pay five cents a line to have
it published!"
"bay, let me tell you something," re
plied Mark, 'Tve got 200 more circula
tion than the Banner, and I'll publish
your attack on me for two cents a line
and take it out in milk feed or corn
stalks! Don't trot over to Iona when
you can help build up your own town!"
Mark would have published it Trord
for word, just as he said, and throw in
a cut of a horse or a stump-puller free
gratis, but the official cooled off.
IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE
That a remedy made of such common, simple
plants as Hops, Buchu, Mandrake Dandelion,
fec, should make so many and such marvelous
and wonderful cures as Hop Bitters
do, but when old aud young, rich
yer-andEditor, all testify to having been cur
ed by them, you must believe and try them
yourself, and doubt no longen S other col
umn i
INGERSOLL ON THE DRAMA.
What He Thinks of Mary Anderson,
Aeilson and Bernhardt.
Pittsburg Leader.
When Col. Robert Ingersoll strolled
about his room in the Monongahela
house the other day, he looked out of
his window, and his eye lighted upon a
blue and white poster b aring in large
letters the name "Mary Anderson.'
"Mary Anderson," said he, turning to
our reporter, "is she here yet?"
"Yes."
"I never saw her."
"Ii you did see her you would not
only see an excellent actress but a very
handsome woman."
"I notice," said Colonel Rob, taking
a seat, "that she is presenting a better
class of characters than she did former
ly, but I think that in al. she plays no
particular genius is necessary. Do you
know what my favorite character is?"
"No."
"Beatrice; it requires a woman with
genius to play that Now, there is the
character of Juliet; most any actress
can play that acceptably, because the
language is so beautiful and flowing,
but it requires a woman with genius to
play it admirably."
"What did you tninK oi xxeiisonr
"She was a splendid actress. In Be
atrice, Rosalind and Imogene I think
she was unrivaled."
"Did you ever see Sara Bernhardt?"
"Do you not think the anxiety to see
her is occasioned as much by the reports
of her immorality as by her reputation
as an actress?"
"No. From what 1 have heard of her
I think she is genius. She made her
reputation in France, where the ideas
among the higher classes are very liber
al in regard to matters of morality.
Their morals are rather lax among the
nobility and the higher classes. There
is very little marrying for love; the ob
ject to be attained is wealth and posi
tion, a- d love i- a secondary considera
tion." Here the conversation was interrupt
ed by the entrance of a third party, and
Colonel Robert's conversation drifted
into another channel.
Some Reminiscences of Thackeray.
January Atlantic
When I saw Mr. Thackeray pass our
carriage door I knew him, and there
fore captured him. Desirous of making
way for him, I remarked to my fellow
travelers, a Frenchman and his wife,
"I would tike to make a place for Mr.
Thackeray," The fact that I named
Mr. Thackeray made no impression, ap
parently, upon my French friends. I
annotated my remark by saying, "Mr.
Thackeray, the celebrated English au
thor." Same indifference. Having
hailed Mr. Thackeray and got him in
stalled, as a preliminary remark I re
ferred to my effort to explain his status
to my neighbors, and the impression
I had made. He laughed, and said,
"Oh, it takes fifty years for an Ehglish
reputation to travel to France." (In
deed, something strongly confirming
that view happened only last year. To
a congress of literary men called to meet
in Paris, invitations were sent out to
foreign authors of distinction to be pres
ent, and among them to Thackeray and
Dickens!) He discussed the reasons for
the American Revolution claiming that
the resistance of our ancestois to the
Stamp Act was unjustifiable. I am
afraid the case for the defense was weak,
for at that time, being a college gradu
ate, I think I had studied almost every
thing a man ought to know for his lit
erary salvation except American history.
The interest of the conversation centered
on his treatment of women in his works.
It being represented that he took a low
view of female character, his reply liter
ally was, "Would you have me describe
them other than they are?" That of
course provoked a discussion as to the
facts. He became communicative about
himself ; he spoke of his candidacy for
Parliament, what it cost him a large
amonnt of money, which he named. He
stood for the University of Oxford, and
was beaten by Sir Robert W alter Card
well, who was afterwards, I believe, un
seatedfor bribery. I ajked him how
thev took his treatment of the Georges
in England, in those killing lectures.
He said the aristocracy had cut him.
He spoke particularly of Lord Wensley
dale, the Baron Parke of the lawyers.
He and Wensleydale had long been
friends, "but after the lectures," said
Thackeray, "he cut me completely."
I remarked to Mr. Thackeray that he
had ventured no criticism on our people
after his return home; and that I should
be glad to know what displeased him
most in our ways. He replied prompt
ly, "The abuse heaped by the newspa
pers on one another; and it wasn't clev
erly done, with the exception of a Phil
adelphia editor, and I told them to keep
watch on him." If Mr. Thackeray
could come agaiD what would he say?
The remarks which were, perhaps, of
the deepest interest related to authors.
One sentence can never be forgotten:
"I were to write as I would like, I
would adopt the style of Fielding and
Smollett; but society would not tole
rate it."
The discussion now going on between
realism or naturalism and sentimental
ism or idealism is here foreshadowed.
Of course we have to condem much that
Fielding and Smollett wrote, and what
Zola writes, because they speak too
plainly, grossly, if you like; but it re
mains essentially true that their style,
as a style, is now fighting for recogni
tion with some chance of success.
Thackeray has, to my mind, not only
been influenced in his style by his mod
els, Fielding and Smollet, but by the
style in which fiction is treated by the
best French authors. The condensed,
incisive, epigramatic, and natural style
of Thackeray is clearly characteristic of
the modern French school of fiction.
England's Other Rows.
Omaha Herald.
The latest published maps of the Bri
tish empire include a part of south Afri
ca. In addition to gobbling up several
so-called principalities and kingdoms of
a moreor less civilized character in
south Africa, England unceremoniously
declared the Boers of the Transvaal, a
spirited, independent people, to be sub
jects of the British crown; and at the
same time wiped the republican form
of government of this people out of ex
istence. This looked all very nice at the time,
and as this poor little republic was too
far away for any body to trouble him
self much about the matter, went by
with a few protests from diflerent parts
of the world.
The Boers, however, have been quiet
ly organizing, and it is safe to say they
have concentrated their wrjngs of ma .
years into this outburst, and from pres
ent appearances it looks i : though En
gland will be called upon to go through
another such experienc as the Zulu
"war.
The uprising may be said to be gener
al. It began with the Basuto rebellion,
which is in full blast, and the Pondos
followed suit, and are making strong
headway. To cap the climax comes
the rising of the Boers, resulting in the
total demoralization of the cape govern
ment and a piteous appeal from it for
troops.
All this trouble has its root in the
Transvaal aggressions of the English
government The history of this busi
ness is truly romantic, and savors much
of the experiences of our own Puritan
fathers.
In 1806, the English having stolen the
Cape Colony from the Dutch, the Boers
began to express their disgust at En-
along the coast northeastward into the I
wilderness; headed by Andries Pretorius
For many years they lived quietly among
themselves, divided from the English by
the wild Drakenberg mountains. Fi
nally, however, the English crossed the
mountains and annexed the whole ter
ritory between the Orange and Vaal riv
ers. This was in 1848. War followed
and the battle of Boom Plats settled the
issue in favor of the English.
Once more did these stern, uncom
promising republicans move into the
wilderness, crossing the river Vaal.
Here they founded the Transvaal Re
public, and for thirty years the English
left them at peace, simply menacing
these liberty loving people by indirect
overt acts.
Theophilus Shepstono was sent to the
republic to form a basis of mutual un
derstanding and commerce, but by
trickery handed over the Boers to his
masters, for which he was knighted.
This effort caused but little fighting, but
it terminated in the overthrow of the
Transvaal Republic and the annexation
of'all that part of the country the other
side of the Vaal.
Out of this sprung the quarrel with
the Zulus, whose fortune? were more or
less involved in the matter. Out of the
Zulu war came the Basuto rebellion and
out of the latter, the Pondo trouble.
And from this one fountain-head will an
uprising of all the tribes come and revolt
everywhere.
It is at this critical moment that the
Boers have decided to strike for free
lom. The whole is the outcome of treachery
and deceit on the part of the English;
of murder, for the sake of robbery, and
of the total and complete disregard to
the rights of men that has characterized
England since
she first lay hands on
this
peaceful, prosperous part of the
world.
It is a plain case of chickens coming
home too roost. It is the result of a
crime, that by no argument whatever,
can be excused. It is a veritable case
of cause add effect
To make the commentary upon the
English government still more bitter,
the certainty of another colonial war
immeasurably complicates and aggra
vates the perplexities of the Irish situa
tion, where political crime again is bear
ing its first fruits.
The Quaker Wilmington of To-day.
Howard Pyle In Harper's Magazine.
From the time of its settlement Wil
mington was essentially a Quaker com
munity. It was founded by English
Quakers; it was peopled by English
Quakers; and as Quakers marry and in
termarry almost exclusively among
themselves for to marry otherwise
means, or did mean, expulsion from the
society traditions, manners, customs,
and peculiarities of old English life have
been handed down from generation to
generation, as carefully preserved as an
old quilted petticoatin lavender. Broad
er contact with the world and the
world's people has rubbed away much
of the bloom of quaintness during the
iast two generations; but the chronicles
of the old town, redolent of local flavor,
still preserve in a series of sketches the
queer life of the old settlement Even
yet many old custons are extant in the
modern city, such, for instance, as the
"curb-stone markets."
The country people from the neigh
borhood bring their produce to town in
carts, dearborns and market-wagons,
which stand with their tail-boards to the
pavement, while a row of benches
placed along the curb displays their
wares; butter as yellow as gold and as
sweet as a nut, milk, eggs, sausages,
scrapple, vegetables and poultry, all
fresh from the farm. Up and down in
front of this array of benches the town
folk crowd and jostle, inspecting the
marketing and driving shrewd bargains
with the country people. Rain or shine,
on every Saturday and Wednesdaj', the
line of farmers' wagons stands along
the pavement. In the hottest day of
summer, when the sun beats down on
straw hats and shirt sleeves, in the
coldest daj' in winter, when the snow
drifts in blinding sheets up the street,
these good folk come to town to turn an
honest penny. In summer time the
wagons stand on the east side of the
street, to avoid as much as possible the
mening sun, for market is over by
noon; in the winter they shift to the
west side, so as to gain the warmth as
soon as possible. On market days the
itinerant vender of patent medicines
and the auctioneer of cheap goods do a
thriving business at the principal street
corners.
During the spring and early summer
the markets are gay with flowers, some
times ranged tjer on tier in a gaudy tab
leau of color and fragrance newly
transported from the greenhouse, some
times tied in homely nosegays of homely
flowers daffodils, lilacs and pinks,
pied and plain. Around these stands
gather a group of feminine folk, and in
many a market basket butter and eggs
contest the place with a bouquet, or
jostle against a flower pot, in which
blooms some sweet blossom, or are
decked with a bunch of the water lillies
which barefooted bo3s offer at every
corner. Then in the season come the
fruits in their natural order, free from
forcing-houses, from the early strawber
ry of spring to the apples of the late
autumn, each with a freshness and ripe
ness only too rarely found in our larger
cities.
It has been only a few years since the
old town bellman was a dignitary of
considerable importance, as he walked
along the stony streets ringing his bell,
its measured rythmical clang-te-clang,
clang-te-clang keeping time with the
taj) of his club-foot on .the cobble
stones. There is but little about the Wilming
ton of the present day that is different
from other towns where the Quaker ele
ment predominates, but one hundred
years ago it was the oddest, the quaint
est, the coziest, the homeliest old town
one could find in the countrv-side.
Put Life into Your Work.
A young man's interest and duty both
dictate that he should make himself in
dispensable to his employer.
A young man should make his em
ployer his friend by doing faithfully and
minutely all that is entrusted to him.
It is a great mistake to be over-nicely
fastidious about work. Pitch in readily,
and your willingness will be appreciat
ed, while the "high-toned" young man,
who quibbles about what it is, and
about what it is not, his place to do,
will get the cold shoulder. There is a
story that George Washington once
helped to roll a log that one of his cor
porals would not handle, and the great
est emperor of Russia worked as a ship
wright in England, to learn the busi
ness. That's ustwhatyou want to do.
Be energetic, look and act with alacrity,
take an interest in your employer's suc
cess, work as though the business was
your own, and let your employer know
he may place absolute reliance on your
word and on your act: Be mindful;
have your mind on your business; be
cause it is that which is going to help
you, not those outside attractions which
Some of the "boys" are thinking about
Take a pleasure in work; do not go
about it in a listless, formal manner,
but with alacrity and cheerfulness, and
remember that while working thus for
others, you are laying the foundation
of your own success in life. ,
The gentlemen who essayed to sere
nade Miss L. a few evenings since,
should have had 'clear' throats, and
their efforts would have been better ap-
preciated. Dr. Bull's
Cough
syrup 13
the best remedy extant for a 'thick' or
congested condition of the Throat and
Bronchial Tubes, giving instant relief.
Women do act their part when they do
make their ordered houses know them.
TALENT AND TOBACCO.
How liltcrature Is Saturated ivltli tUo
Smoke of tlie Weed.
The Boston Traveler, in a recent issup,
says: James Parton has recently writta.
a letter, which has had wide quotation,
exhorting writers and brain-workers to
throw away their pipes. This re-opens
the discussion of a social topic which
affords the largest room for honest di
vergence of opinion. Suppose, without
attempting to decide the mooted point
as to the soundness of Mr. Parton's
advice, we indulge in a few random ob
servations on the prominence of the pipe
in literature.
Mr. Parton's counsel to brain workers
may be wise or not, but that he is in
a minority is a fact of which there can
be little question. The consumption of
tobacco increases yearly, and to this in
crease brain-workers, we believe, con
tribute a very large proportion. En
glish literature, as a whole may be said
to be surcharged with smoke. Anti-tobacconists
can point, it is true, to the
fact that Shakespeare's pages do not
contain a single reference to the weed.
But this notable exception only serves
to emphasize the rule. Lord Bacon
eulogizes tobacco, declaring that "it
comforteth the spirits and dischargeth
weariness, which it worketh partly by
opening, but chiefly by the opiate virtue
which condenseth the spirits." Ben
Jonson and Drummond, Fletcher and
Beaumont constantly renewed their
friendships over a pipe. The great Dr.
Barrow pronounced his pipe to be a
cure-all, his Panpharmacon. Sir Thorn
as Overbury calls smoking "that delect
able pastime." Boxhore, the great
Dutch scholar, smoked almost incessant
ly in his study. Sir Isaac Newton not
only loved his pipe, but had a playful
and somewhat ungallant way of using
the fingers of his lady friends for stop
pers. Steele "wrote his splendid essays
with a pipe in his mouth; Addison sent
out his brightest things from a cloud of
smoke. Dryden loved his "whiff" only
second to his "pinch" and Congreve
was fond of soothing long-stemmed clay
the "church warden" of the olden
time. Daniel Defoe made his pipe his
nearest friend. All the literary men of
Queen Anne's day appear wreathed in
fragrant clouds, and no period, surely,
has given us a greater number of great
writers. Charles Lamb was long a de
votee of the weed, before he wrote his
celebrated "FarewellTobacco," in which
lie anathematized it as
"Filth o' the mouth and fog o' the mind."
Coming down to later times, we find
the example of Sir Walter Scott, the
prince of romancers, on the same side.
His novels are full of tobacco. His
characters are continually snuffing or
smoking. Dominie Sampson heardMeg
Merrilies singing on the stairs and
groaned deeply, "puffing out between
whiles huge volumes of tobacco smoke."
He makes the old hag herself a disciple
of the weed, introducing her t Henry
Bertram "busily engaged with a short
black tobacco pipe," Shelley, Edgai
Poe and Tom Moore are three modern
poets who are to be set down on the
other side as anti-tobacconists ;Macaulay,
we think, may be added to the number
In our own day Dickens and Tenny,
son, who stand, at least in popular esti
mation, as the English laureates of prose
and poetry respectively, are to be set
down as ardent lovers of nicotine com
fort. Spurgeon has preached some elo
quent sermons in defence of the pipe,
declaring on one occasion that he had
always smoked and always intended to
smoke "to the glory of God." On this
side we think we shall not err in setting
down Longfellow, Lowell, Aldrich and
Clemmens, at least, as deciples of Sir
Walter Raleigh. Oliver Wendell Holmes,
if Jie follows his own advice to young
men, must be set down as of a contrary
mind. Mr. Beecher is not addicted to
the weed, but a Boston clergyman, whose
fame once almost rivaleu that of the
Brooklyn pastor, was deeply devoted to
it "If vou want to find out if Mr.
is in his study you need not ring the bell,
but just look and see if the smoke is
pouring out of the window," one of his
deacons was wont to say to people who
wanted to see him. Bismarck once told
a group of visitors the following story:
"The value of a good cigar," said he,
"is best understood when it is the last
you possess, and there is no chance of
getting another. At Koniggratz I had
only one cigar left in my pocket, which
I had carefully guarded during the
whole of the battle as a miser does his
treasure. I did not feel iustifiedin using
it I painted irr glowing colors, in my
mind, the happy nour in which I should
enjoy it after the victory. But I had
miscalculated my chances." "And
what," asked one of the company, "was
the cause of your miscalculation?" A
poor dragoon," replied Bismarck, "who
lay helpless with both arms crushed,
murmuring for something to refresh him.
I felt in my pockets and found I had on
ly gold, and that would be of no use to
him. But stay I had still my treasured
cigar! I lighted this for him and placed
it Between his teeth. You should have
seen the poor fellow's grateful smile!. I
never enjoyed a cigar so much as that
one which I did not smoke."
The Terrible Year at Band.
JTw York Sun.
The world to an end shall come
In eighteen hundred and eighty-one.
JIOTHER SniPTOX'S bOPCT.
It would be difficult to describe all the
sinister predictions that have, as by com
mon consent, been concentrated upon
the coming year. The soothsayers di
viners, oracle makers, astrologers and
wizards seem to have combined to cast
their spell upon it. Superstitious people
of every sort, and some who are not
willing to admit that they are supersti
tious, regard the year 1881 with more or
less anxious expectation and dread. As
the earth, on New Year's day, swings
out into another round about the sun, it
will go to meet a host of evil omens. It
will go cursed by theomancy and biblio
mancy. Aeromancy and meteormancy
will glare at it from comets and shoot
ing stars. Onciromancy will intercept
its path with visions of evil, and necro
mancy will shake the ominous, back
ward reading numerals "1881" before
it. It will beset with scarecrow figures
by arithmancy, and with menacing
phrases by stichomancy. Yet there is
no reason why persons of good digestion
should not go to sleep on New Year's
night, confident that, after having en
countered the average quantity of storm
and sunshine, the one horse ball that we
call the. world will bring them safe
through the perils of its 500,000,000
mile flight around to the starting point
again.
Timid persons first began to look for
ward with some alarm to the year that
is about to open, when, several years
ago, the key to the so-called prophetic
symbolism of the great pyramid of
Egypt was made public, backed by the
name and reputatien of the British as
tronomer, Piazzi Smyth. Others, using
Mr. Smyth's observations and measure
ments, have gone much further than he
did in drawing startling inferences; but
no one can read his book without per
ceiving how powerfully it must affect
those who have the slightest leaning to
ward superstition or credulity. Besides,
this record of explorations and experi
ences in the heart of Egypt's greatest
marvels has all the charm and interest
of Dr. Schlieman's descriptions of his
discoveries in Homer's Troy. Such a
book could not well be neglected by the
world of readers, and by the nature of
the human mind. Many of its readers
were sure to be imbued with its omi-
nous dogmas. So the belief, or at least
the suspicion, spread that the secret
chambers of the great pyramid, under
Divine guidance by the most mystical
character in all history, Melchisedek,
king of Salem, foretell among other
things, that the Christian era will end in
1881.
Mother Shipton's so-called prophecy
fixes upon the same date for the end of
the world. The ominous gingle of her
rhymes has probably done at least as
much to disturb the equanimity of cred
ulous persons as the more elaborate
vaticinations of the pyramid interpre
ters. Moreover, Mother Shipton is rep
resented as foretelling that in the latter
days England will "accept a Jew." As
England has, with considerable em
phasis, and more than once, accepted
the remarkable son of old Isaac Disraeli
for her prime minister, this has been
taken as a fulfillment of the prophecy.
So Lord Beaconsfield's dramatic person
alitv is made a nrincipal figure in the
murky cloud of evil prophecy that
hangs over 1881.
As if the evil eve of Mother Shipton
and the mystical menace of the great
pyramid were not enough for one poor
twelvemonth to bear, the "horrors of
the perihelia" have been denounced
upon the coming year. About two
years ago a certain pamphlet was circu
lated through the country, purporting
to have been written by men of science,
and predicting that awful consequences
to mankind would result from all the
planets reaching their perihelia, or
nearest points to the sun, together.
According to these prophets, the sinis
ter effects of the perihelia were to begin
making their appearance this fall, when
Jupiter passed his perihelion, and next
year the scj-the of death was to be put
to the harvest in the far east, and to
sweep westward, with a swarthe as
broad as the -continents, until it reached
the Pacific ocean. The narrow Atlantic
was to be no more than a brooklet in
the path of this terrible harvester.
Plagues, famines, pestilences, fires.
earthquakes, floods and tornadoes were
to scourge the human race until only a
few remained, like Noah and his family,
to repeople the earth with a steadier
and more God-fearing race.
So much alarm was caused by this
hocus-pocus of pretended science and
prophecy, that some real men of science
Mr Proctor among others were at
the Dains to show that so far as these
predictions professed to rest upon sci
entific facts they were baseless. The
great planets will not all be in periheli
on in 1881, and they will not all be in
perihelion together at any time. It is
true that several of the chief planets
will reach their perihelion within a few
years, and that it is rare for them to be
grouped so close together as they will
be at one time next year. It is also true
that remarkable coincidences have been
observed between the existence of great
storms on the sun that produce electric
al disturbances, and possibly meteoro
logical changes upon the earth, and the
presence of Jupiter near his perihelion.
Astronomers have also suspected that
the influence of some other of the great
planets upon the earth can be perceiv
ed. But they have never discovered any
reason to Deneve mat tne comDineu
force of all the planets could, tinder any
circumstances, produce upon the earth
1,000th part of the evil effect ascribed
to them by the astrologers, if, indeed,
they produced any evil effect whatever.
Still the astrological almanacs for
next year are repeating substantially the
same predictions of evil things to be
gin, if not to culminate, in 1881. Be
cause, as they say, the ravages of the
Black Death in the middle ages followed
the nearly coincident perihelia of four
great planets.theypredict similar conse
quences from the configuration of the
planets now. But neither in their prem
ises nor their inferences does science
recognize any validity.
In truth, howevkr, the astrologers,
not less than the astronomers and all
star-gazers, will have plenty of phenom
ena in the heavens to occupy their at
tention for the next twelvemonths. The
sky will not present such brilliant pa
geants again this century. There will
be a remarkable series of conjunctions,
and double and triple conjunctions. The
most interesting of these is the great
twenty year conjunctions of Jupiter and
Saturn in April. This conjunction is
one of the strongholds of the astrologers.
As it occurs in the sign Taurus, which
they say rules Turkey and Ireland, they
feel safe, on account of recent occur
rences, in predicting very momentous
effects in those countries from the con
junction. There will also be conjunc
tions of Jupiter and Mars, Venus and
Jupiter, Saturn and Venus, and the far
away giants Uranus and Neptune will
play a part in this remarkable planetary
levee.
Venus will reach her greatest bright
ness in the spring, and will be so bril
liant as to be visible at noonday. Her
delicate crescent will be a favorite object
in the amateur astronomer's telescope.
Saturn will open still wider its wonder
ful rings, and will be one of the chief
attractions of the evening sky for sever
al months. Jupiter will not lose
much of his present brilliancy be
fore he becomes a morning stars in
April. Mars will begin to brighten in
the latter part of the year, and then his
poles and shadowy continents will again
become the admiration of those who
gaze through telescopes. In short, there
will be no end of attractions in the star
ry heaven, and all the prognostications
of the soothsayers will not be able to
darken the skv of 1881.
How They Do It.
The train is halted alongside of a cat
tle train, while the other cattle those
in the passenger car go up town and
get dinner. After dinner the passen
gers solemnly contemplate the cattle,
packed in at the rate of three or four
more or less to the square inch. "How
on earth," asks a very pretty young
lady "how on earth do they pack them
in so close?"
"Why," asks a mild-looking young
man, with tender blonde whiskers and
wistful blue eyes (he is an escaped di
vinity student, just going out to take
charge of a church) "why, did you
never see them load cattle into a car?"
"No," said the pretty girl, with a
quick look of interest, "I never did.
How do the do it?"
- 'Why,"said the biblical student slowly
and very earnestly, "they drive them
all in except one a big fellow with thin
shoulders and broad quarters; they save
him for a wedge, and drive him in with
a hammer."
Somehow or other, it didn't look
scarcely fair; nobody protested against
its admission, however, so it went on
record. But the conversation went into
utter bankruptcy right there, and the
young divine was the only person in the
car who looked supremely MsJyyJSp"h
himself. " J '
,
Parasites in tbfe Intestines.
Young calves, .nd lambs as well, are
often troubled with diarrhoea and dis
charges from, the nose and eyes from the
effects of parasites in the intestines and
lungs. Those parasites are slender,
white, thread worms, known as strong
ylus Jllfina, and are produced from eggs
takerinto the stomach with food. The
worms escape from the gullet into the
air passages, and cause irritation of the
membranes, and in the bowels cause ob
stinate diarrhoea. Tho treatment is to
give turpentine, a tablespoonf ul in milk,
every morning for a week or ten days,
and afterwards the same quantity of
castor-oil for two days.
Ill Iujt I)oc.
Said a sufferer from kidney trouble when
asked to try Kianey-Wort for a remely, I'll
try it, but it will be my last dose.'" It cured
him, and now he recommends itto all. If you
have disordered urine don't "fall to try It.
Yoteham Dixpateh:
UNTYING THE KNOT.
The Divorce Cnntom of irianjr Conn
tries AH the New and Varied Styles.
Australians Divorces have never
been sanctioned in Australia.
Jews In olden times the Jews had a
discretionary power for divorcing their
wives.
Javans Ii the wife be dissatisfied
she can obtain a divorce by paying a
certain sum.
Thibetans Divorces are seldom al
lowed, unless with the consent of both
parties, neither of whom can afterward
remarry.
Tf the wife does not become the moth
er of a boy, she may be divorced with
the consent of the tribe, and she can
marrv s erain.
Abyssinians No form of marriage is
necessary. The connection may be dis
solved and renewed as often as the parties-think
proper.
Siberians If the man be dissatisfied
with the most trifling acts of his wife,
he tears her cap or veil from her head,
and this constitutes a divorce.
Corea The husband can divorce his
wife or treasurer, and leave her the
charge of maintaining the children. If
she proves unfaithful he can have her
put to death.
Siamese The first wife may be di
vorced not sold, as the others may be.
She may then claim the first, third and
fifth child, and the alternate children
are yielded to the husband.
Arctic Regions When a man desires
a divorce, he leaves the house in anger
and does not return for several days.
The wife understands the hint, packs
her clothes and leaves.
Druse and Turkoman Among these
people, if a wife asks her husband's
parmission to go out, and he says "go,"
without adding, "butcome back again,"
she is divorced. Though both parties
desire it, they cannot live together again
without being remarried.
If the parties choose to separate they
break a pair of chop sticks or a copper
coin in the presence of witnesses, by
which action the union is dissolved.
The husband must restore to the wife
the property belonging to her prior to
her marriage.
American Indians Among some
tribes the pieces of sticks given the
witnesses of the maniage are broken as
a sign of divorce. Usually new connec
tions are formed without the old ones
being dissolved. A man never divorces
his wife if she has born him sons.
Tartars The husband may put away
his partner and seek another wnen it
pleases him, and the wife may do the
same. If she be ill-treated she com
plains to the magistrate, who, attended
by the principal people, accompanies
her to the house and pronounces a for
mal divorce.
Chinese Divorces are allowed in ca
ses of criminality, mutual dislike, jeal
ousy, incompatibility of temper, or too
much loquacity on the part of the wife.
The husband "cannot sell his wife until
she leaves him. and becomes a slave to
him by the action of the law for deser
tion. A son is bound to divorce his
wife if she displeases his parents.
Circassians Two kinds of divorce
are granted in Circassia one total, the
other provisional. When the first is al
lowed the parties can immediately mar
ry again; where the second exists the
couple agree to separate for a year, and
if, at the expiration of that time, the
husband does not send for his wife, her
relations may command of him a total
divorce.
Grecians A settlement was usually
given to a wife at marriage for support
in case of a divorce. The wife's por
tion was, then restored to her, and the
husband required to pay monthly inter
est for its use during the time he de-
tained it
could put
occasions,
large a
froni her. Usually themen
their wives away on slight
Even the fear of having too
family sufficed. Divorces
scarcely ever occur in modern Greece.
Hindoos Either party for a slight
cause may leave the other and marry.
When both desire it there is not the
least trouble. If a man calls his wife
"mother," it is considered indelicate to
live with her again. Among one tribe,
the "Gores," if the wife be beautiful,
the husband cannot obtain a divorce
unless he gives her all the property and
children. A woman, on the contrary,
may leave when she pleases, and marry
another man, and convey to him the
entire property of her former husband.
Romans In olden times a man might
divorce his wife if she was unfaithful,
if she counterfeited his private keys, or
drank without his knowledge. They
would divorce their wives when they
pleased. Notwithstanding this, 521
years elapsed without any divorce. Af
terward a law was passed, allowing
either sex to make the application. Di
vorces then became frequent on the
slightest pretexts. Seneca says that
some women no longer reckoned the
years by the consols, but by the number
of their husbands. St Jerome speaks
of a man who had had twenty wives,
and a woman who had buried twenty
two husbands. The emperor Augustus
endeavored to restrain the license by
penalties.
The Abbott Kiss.
From Kym Crinkle' Feullleton.
The western reporters have gone reck
lessly into the psychology of the "Ab
bott kiss." There is something about
it, if we are to believe these mad wags,
that stimulates investigation. One of
them declares that it has breadth but
no depth, and another has detected a
sectarian flavor in it Still another,
whose investigations have evidently
been in the line of wardrobe, insists that
it is "cut bias." The two citiei ofChi
eag and St. Louis having got into an
inextricable wrangle over this delicate
psychological question, there was noth
ing to do but to interview the iady her
self on the subject, and a St Louis re
porter, to use his own words, "tackled
her in her boudoir."
As everything that Miss Abbott says
is fraught with a fino inner sense of Ab
bott and art, and as stage kissing is a
phase of dramatic work which may be
said to be unexplored, this interview
has a peculiar interest.
We can only call the reader's atten
tion to the marvelous ingenuousness of
the lady and the naive frankness with
which she disclosed the real secret of
the "Abbott kiss," which, of course, is
earnestness. The reporter tells his story
in the following direct manner:
1 want to know something about the
art of osculation, or the osculation of
art, Miss Abbott," said the reporter,
feeling that it was possible to have a
worse subject of conversation than kiss
ing between a young lady and an inex
perienced young man who was devotino
his life to the acquisition of wisdom.
"Well but now you know," blush
ed the scribe, "everybody has more or
less to say about the 'Abbott kiss,' and
so, entirely in the pursuit of informa
tion, I must know something about it."
"What can I tell you that you do not
know about kissing? Every one who
has a mouth can kiss. Remember,
there are kisses and kisses, and you
may believe me when 1 tell you that the
stage kiss is a cold, dim, pale phantom
unsatisfactory, elusive and empty
compared to the kiss of love. I know
what both are. Do you?"
"Well, I think I can guess at some of
the conditions of the Tatter kiss," ad
mitted the reporter. "I have some
vague, general views about it, which
have never been crystallized into prac
tice. If it could be illustrated now?"
"But it cac't you know."
"On your part, perhaps, but on
mine " the reporter would probably
have made a well-rounded and effective
remark if Miss Abbott had not at this
point touchingly asked him if he would
eat an apple.
She topic was spoiled; no amount of
interviewing could evolve Miss Abbott's
views on the kiss. All that she could
be got to admit was that the balcony
scene in Romeo and Juliet was copied
from a painting of Antony, and Cleopa
tra, which she had seen at Milan. "Peo
ple talk about what they are pleased to
call the 'Abbott ki3s,'" said 3he, "alto
gether forgetting that if the scene is not
made realistic it would be utterly flat,
stale and unprofitable. I will not sing
roles like Traviata, of which I do not
approve, but those which I do act I will
act with my whole heart and my whole
soul, with "all the art which God has
given me. I never sung yet without I
was accused of being in love with the
tenor, just because I sing and act in
dead earnest That is what realism in
art means."
So much for the positive kiss. The
students of comparative kissing, who
will, of course, look over the whole
field in a historic way, will have to take
into consideration the various schools of
osculation. There was the Platonic kiss
of Kellogg, who used to fling them like
icicles with her finger tips, and, as Sher
Campbell once said, there were chil
blains in them. Then there was the
Presbyterian kiss of Ada Dyas, who
used to plant it on Montague's left ear.
or on the back of his neck, and always
created an impression in the gallery that
she had bit him; and the Lotta bubble,
which alwavs sounded like the pulling
of a cork, and seemed to be a number
of linked kisses effervescing; and the
Corinthian kiss ot Wamwnght a se
vere affair, somewhat motherly, and
when dropped upon a stock actor, al
wavs frightened him a little bit as if
he had pulled a new testament out of
his pocket jnstead of a pack of cards;
and the Carey kiss ah! The romantic
Carey kiss, that never began anywhere
and never ended that run down tho
back and tinged m the arms and legs,
and made the hair stan i on end, and
was accompanied with laughter, whose
echoes were undying; and the cavern
ous Soldene kiss, that opened its pon
derous marble jaws, with a report like
the bursting of an india-rubber balloon.
Who shall formulate all these schools
for us? Certainly not Abbott; for her's
is the spiritual kiss, and we are not ed
ucated up to it
BETTER THOUGHTS.
Better kind friends than cold kindred.
The best throw upon the dice is to
throw them away.
Think not of doing as you like; do as
you ought to do.
Friendship is the only rose without
thorns in this world.
Despair is the offspring of fear, lazi
ness, and impatience.
He who strikes terror into others, is
himself in continual fear.
Howeverlaborious the life of the good,
it is less so than that of the bad.
A guilty conscience is like a whirlpool,
drawing in all .to itself what would oth
erwise pass by.
Love-matches are often formed by
people who pay for a month of honey
with a life of vinegar.
Serenity is no sign of security. A
stream is never so smooth, equable and
silvery as at the instant before it becomes
a cataract
There are truths that some men de
spise because they have not examined,
and which they will not examine because
they despise.
Politeness of the heart consists in an
habitual benevolence, and an absence of
selfishness in our intercourse with socie
ty of all classes.
We too often make our happiness de
pend upon things that we desire, whilst
others would find it in a single one of
those we possess.
Your first duty is to your soul, and
then other things may come; always re
membering that the good of the soul is
to be the final object of every thing.
The habit of resolving without acting
is worse than not resolving at all, inas
much as it gradually sunders the natu
ral connections between thought and
deed.
God will judge us by what we are and
do. There is no substitute for purity of
heart and uprightness and usefulness of
life. It is never well with anytbnt the
righteous.
Some men are more beholden to their
bitterest enemies, than to friends who
appear to be sweetness itself. The for
mer frequently tell the truth but tho
latter never.
He that finds truth, withott loving
her, is like a bat; which, though it has
eyes to see discern that there is a sun,
yet hath so evil eyes that it cannot de
light in the sun.
The aspersions of libellers may be
compared to fuller's earth, which,though
it may seem dirt to you at first, only
leaves you more pure and spotless when
it is rubbed off.
Constancy is a reasonable firmness m
our sentiments; stubbornness an unrea
sonable firmness; modesty a conscious
of the deformity of vice; and of the con
tempt which follows it
The action of the soul is oftener in
that which is felt and left unsaid, than
in that which is said in any conversa
tion. It broo is over every society, and
men unconsciously seek "for it in each
other.
To Detect Adulteration in Coffee.
Casaell'i Magazine.
Take a wineglass or a tumbler full of
water, and gently drop a pinch of the
ground coffee on the surface of the wa
ter, without stirring or agitating; genu
ine coffee will float for some time while
chicory or any other sweet will soon
sink; and chicory or caramel will cause
a yellowish or brown color to diffuse
rapidly through the water, while pure
coffee will give no sensible tint under
such circumstances, for a considerable
length of time. "Coffee mixtures" or
"coffee improvers" should be avoided.
They se.dom consist of anything but
chicory and caramel (burnt sugar),
which, of course, deceives by the rich,
dark infusion they give. "French cof
fee," so widely usedat present, is gen
erally ground coffee, the beans of which
have been roasted with a certain amount
of sugar, which, coating over the bean,
has retained more of the original aro
ma than in ordinary coffee, but this, of
course, at the expense of the reduced
percentage of coffee due to the presence
of the caramelized sugar.
Death of an Aged Yeteran.
Wheeling, W. Va., December 28.
One of the links binding the present to
the past was broken by the death of
Anthony Deiters, at 4 o'clock this after
noon, at the age of 93 years. Mr. Dei
ters was born in Westphalia, Prussia, in
1788, and came to this country in 1831,
since which time he has been a resident
of Wheeling. When at about 18 years
of age and living in the province of
Lorraine, he entered the German army
as a substitute for his brother in the
war with Napoleon, and was captured
by the French. After Lorraine becam
apart of that empire, he enlisted in Na
poleon s army and fought at all the he
ro s battles, including Leipsic, Bordom,
Lamprang, Austerlitz and Waterloo. In
these campaigns he was wounded four
T u eTTScars remained with him
till death. He witnessed the burning of
Moscow and was in the wild scenels of
disaster when the old guard was blowr
up in crossing the bridge over the riven
r
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