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About The Red Cloud chief. (Red Cloud, Webster Co., Neb.) 1873-1923 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 21, 1878)
f ga.aer-sTgnjw.pi i jlliMy.a.iaLfiT.iywri'wii Mcminn ;s-- f 1 "i is- V V. THE RE1 CLOUD CHIEF. IIOK1V.VHPKIXOKK, EcL. and Iro. HK1) CLOUD, NEBRASKA SAVED HY A SOMJ. It was Christinas Eve. A cold, old fashioned Christmas, with snow lying thick on the ground and "still falling heavily, with a touch of fog in the air. It was past 10 o'clock, mid the streets and lanes of the great t:iiy were all but deserted. Merchant and broker, clerk and warehousemen, and the rest of the busy crowd who had thronged those streets by day had one by one drifted away to their homes, and the lofty warehouse loomed black and forbidding over the silent thorough fares. Here and there the gleam of a solitary window struggled ineffectual-l- with the outer darkness, and served but to bring into stronger relief the gen eral gloom mid solitude. And nowhere was the darkness deep er or the sense of desolation more pro found than in St. Winifred's court. St. Winifred's is one of those queer little alleys which intersect the heart 6f east ern London, and consists, with one ex ception, of houses let out as oillces, and utterly deserted at night. The court is bounded on one side by St. Winifred's Church, while in one corner stands a quaint old house occupying a nearly triangular piece of ground and form ing the exception we have referred to, "bavin ir ficcn for "hianv vears the rcsi- Li " . w .. V. . . , ;fl-kviiauia-jF;rIi-- enact a-my. The only sign of life, on this Christ mas Eve, in St. Winifred's court, was a faint gleam of firelight proceeding from one of the windows of the quaint three-cornered house in which Michael Fray passed his solitary existence. Many years before the period of our story, the same month had taken from him wife and child, and since that time Michael Fray had lived desolate, his only solace being the rare old organ, the friend and companion of Jhis lonely hours. The loss of his wife and daugh ter had left him without kith or kin. llis father and mother had died in his early youth, an only brother, a gifted but wayward youth, had run away to sea, and had there found a water' grave. IJeing thus left alone in the world, Michael Fray's love for music, "which had always been the most mark ed feature of his character, had become intensified into an absolute passion. Evening after evening, when darkness hail settled on the city, and none could complain that his music interfered with business or distracted the attention from the noble clink of gold, he was accus tomed to creep quietly into the church and there "talk to himself," as lie called it, at the old organ, which an swered him back again with a tender sympathy and power of consolation which 110 mere human listener could ever have afforded. The organ of St. Winifred's was of comparatively small .size and made but scanty show of pipes or pedals ; but the blackened case and yellow much-worn keys had been fash ioned by the brain and skilful fingers of "Father Smith" himself, and never had the renowned old organ-builder turned out a more skilful piece of work manship. And Michael Fray, by use of years and loving tender study, had got by heart every pipe and stop in the rare old instrument, and had acquired an almost magical power in bringing ut it U'lideriisl. tones and noblest har monies. Hear him this Christmas Eve, as he sits before the adjacent keyboard, the feeble candle dimly glimmering over the well-worn nare. before him : flicker ing weirdly over the ancient earvingTplol1 beneath it for and calhug into momentary life the ef figies of mitred abbot and mailed cru sader. A feeble old man, whose sands of life have all but run out ; a sadly weak and tremulous old man, with shaking hands and dim, uncertain eyes. But, when they are placed upon those vellow kevs, the shaking hands shake no longer the feeble sijrht finds no la - nor in those well-remembered panes. Under the touch of Michael Fray's deft lingers the ancient organ becomes in stinct with life and harmony. The grand old masters lend their noblest strains, and, could they revisit earth, need ask no better interpreter. From saddest wail of sorrow to sweetest strain of consolation from the dirge for the loved and lost, to the piean of the jubilant victor each shade of hu man passion, each tender message of divine encouragement, take form and color in succession, under the magic of that old man's touch. Thus, some times borrowing the song of other sing ers, sometimes wandering into quaint JEolian harmonics, the spontaneous overflow of his own rare genius, Mi chael Fray sat and made music, charm ing his sorrows to temporary sleep. Time crept on, but the player heeded it not, till the heavy bell iif the tower above his head boomed forth the hour of midnight and recalled him to reality again. With two or three wailing minor chords he brought his weird ini provision to an end. "Dear me," he said, with a heavy sigh, Christmas again! Christmas again ! How many times, I wonder ! Well this will be the last; and yet Christmas comes again, and finds me here still, all alone. Dear, dear ! First, poor Dick ; and then my darling Alice and little Kell all gone! Young and bright and merrv alltaken ! and here am I old, sail, and friendless and yet I live on, live on ! Well, I suppose God knows best ! While thus thinking aloud, the old man was apparently searching for something among his music books, and now produced an an cient page of manuscript, worn almost to fragments, but pasted for preserva tion on a piece of paper of a late date. "Yes, here it is, poor Christmas song. What a sweet voice he had, dear boy ! If he had only lived but there ! I'm murmuring again. God's will be done!" He placed the music on the desk before him, and after a moment's pause, began, in tender, flute-like tones, to play the melody, at the same time crooning the words in a feeble voice. He played one verse of the song, then stopped and drew his sleeve across his eyes. The sense of his desolation appeared to come anew upon him ; he seemed to shrink down, doubly old, doubly fee ble, douhla-forsaken when, lo ! a mar vel ! Suddenly from the. lonely street witnouE, in lau emu luiuojgui, uauie the sound of a violin, and a sweet young voice singing the self same words to the self-same tender air the song written by his dead brother forty years before. The effect on Michael Fray was elec trical. For a moment lie staggered, but caught at the keyboard before him land .held it with a convulsive grasp. lAm I dreaming ! or are.-niv senses' leaving me! Poor 'Disk's Christmas carcaand I could almost swear the voice is my own lost Nellie's. Can this be death at last? And are these angels welcoming me home with the song. I love so dearly? No. surely; either I am going mad, or that is a real living voice! lJut whose whose? Heaven heln me to find out!'' With his whole frame quivering with excitement without pausing even to close the organ, or to extinguish his flickering candle the old man groped his way down the narrow winding stair which led to the street, and hurriedly closing the door behind him, stepped forth bareheaded into the stormy night. For some hours before Michael Fray was startled, as we have related, by the mysterious echo of his brother's song, nn old man and a young girl had been making their way citywards from the southeastern side of Loudon. Both walked wearily, as though they had tramped for a "long distance, and once or twice the young girl wiped away a tear, though she strove hard to hide it from her companion, and forced herself to speak with a cheerfulness in ftrange contrast with her sunken cheeks and footsore gait. Every now and then, in passing through the more frequented streets, they would pause; and the man, who carried the violin, would strike up some old ballad tune with a vigor and power of execution which even his frost nipped fingers anil wear' limbs could not wholly destroy: while the girl, with a sweet though very sad voice, accom panied him with the appropriate words, liut their attempts were miserably un productive. In -Mich bitter weather few who could help it would stay away from their warm firesides; and "those whom stern necessity kept out of doors seem ed -only -IjOfit on dis"p:lfchihg" 1 heTr'sev eral t:isks, and to have no time or tho't to expend on a couple of wandering tramps singing by the roadside. Still they toiled on. every now and then making a fresh "pitch" at some likely corner, only too often ordered to "move on" by a stern policeman. As they drew nearer to the city and the hour grew later, the passers-by became few er and farther between, and the poor wanderers felt that it was idle even to seek for charity in those deserted, silent streets. At last the old man stopped and groaned aloud. "What is it. grandfather dear? Don't give in now, when we have come so far. Lean on me do; I'm hardly tired at all; and I dare say we shall do better to morrow." "To-morrow!" said the old man, bit terly; "to-morrow will be too late. I don't mind hunger, and I don't mind cold; but the shame of it, the disgrace after having struggled against it all these years to come to the workhouse at last! It isn't for myself I mind beggars mustn't be choosers; and, I dare say, better men than 1 have slept in a casual ward; but you, my tender little Lily. The thought breaks my heart! it kills me!" And the old man sobbed aloud. "Dear grandfather, you are always thinking of me, and never of yourself. What does it matter, after all Pit's only the name of the tiling. I'm sure I don't mind it one bit." The shudder of hor ror which passed over the girl's frame gave the lie to her pious falsehood. "I dare say it is not so very bad; and, af ter all, something may happen to pre vent it even now." "What can happen short of a miracle, in these deserted streets?" "Well, let us hope for the miracle, then, dear. God has never quite de serted us in our deepest troubles, and I don't believe He will forsake us now." As she spoke she drew her thin shawl more eloselv roe::! her, shivering in spite of herself, undercover of the cold blast, which seemed to receive no check from her scanty coverings. Again the pair crept on, and, passing beneath the loftv wall of St. Winifred's Church, 1 temporary shel ter iroiu me unvinjr wma ami snow. While so standing they caught the faint sounds of the organ soleninlv pealing within. "Noble music," said the old man, as the final chords died away; "noble mu sic, and a soul in the playing. That man. whoever he may be, should have a generous heart." "Hush, grandfather," said the young girl, he is beginning to play again." Scarcely had the music commenced, however, than the pair gazed at each other in breathless surprise. "Lily, darling, do you hear what he is playing.?" said the old man in an ex cited whisper. "A strange coincidence," the girl re plied. "Strange! it is more than strange! Lily, darling, who could play that song?" The melody came to an end, and all was silence. There was a moment's pause, and then, as if by a common im pulse, the old man drew his bow across the strings, and the girl's sweet voice carolled forth the second verse of the song. Scarcely had they ended when a door opened at the foot of the church tower just beside them, and Michael Fray, bareheaded, with his scanty locks blown about by the wind, stootl before them. He hurried forward and then stood still, shamefaced and bewildered. The song had called up the vision of a gallant young sailor, full of life and health, as Michael had seen his brother for the last time on the day when he sailed on that fatal voyage? He had hurried forth, forgetting" the years that had passed, full of tender memories of the happy boyish days, to find, alas! only a couple of wandering beggars singing for bread. "I beg your pardon," he said, striv ing vainly to master his emotions; "you sang a song just now which which a song which was a favorite of a dear friend of mine many vears ago. Will you will you tell me where you ffot it?" & "By the best of titles, sir," the old fiddler answered, drawing himself up with a touch of artistic pride; "I wrote it myself, words and music, both." "Nay, sir," said Michael, sternlv, "you rob the dead, A dearlv loved brother of mine wrote that song over fortv years ago." "Well, upon my word!" said the old fiddler, waxing very wroth "then your brother must nave stolen it from me! What might be this precious brother's name, pray?" "An honest name, a name I am proud to speak," said Michael, firing up in his turn; "his name was Richard Fray!" The old street musician staggered as if he had received a blow. -Wh at!' ' he exclaimed, peering eager ly into the otners Xcoo, "then vou are my brother Michael; for I aniltocnard Fray!" Half an hour later and the brothers so long parted, so strangely brought to gether, were seated around a roaring nre in Michael Fray's quaint, three-cornered parlor. Michael's stores had been ransacked for warm, dry clothing for the wanderers. Drawers long closed E elded, when opened, a sweet scent of vander, and containing homely skirts -and bodices, kept still in loving memo ry of his little 2ell, gave up their treas ures for Lily's benefit, and Richard Fray's snow-sodden clothes were re placed by Michael' choicest coat and softest "dippers. The wanderers had done full justice to a plentiful meal and a jug of fragrant punch now steamed upon the hob and was laid under fre quent contributions, while Richard Fravtold the story of thirty years' wan dering, and the brothers found how it had come to pass that, each brother, thinking the other dead they had lived their lives, married, and buried their dear ones, being sometimes but a few miles apart, and yet as distant as tho' severed by the grim Divider himself. And Lily sat on a cushion at her grand father's" feet, a picture of quiet happi ness, and sang sweet songs to please the two old men, while Michael loving ly traced in her soft features fanciful likenesses to his lost Nelly, the strange similarity of the sweet voice adding to the tender illusion. And surely no hap pier familv party was gathered togath er in all England, on that Christmas tide, than that little group around Mi chael Fray's quiet fireside. "Well, grandfather, dear," said Lily, after a pause, "won't you believe in miracles, now?" "My darling," said the old man, with his voice broken with emotion, "God forgive me for ever having doubted Him !"' London Society. A New Jersey Roy. There is a boy in New Jersey who, if his life is spared, is destined to make his mark. There may be more, but there is one that we know of. He at tends the district school mir Port Jer yls. Latterly the hoys have been in the habit of tossing their base balls across the room from one to another during school hours. This was not found con ducive to study nor to that degree of mental dilligence which is exacted in New Jersey schools, and the teacher accordingly forbade lu In order to give force to his order, he declared that he would burn every ball he captured in transit. That very day he did capture one and threw it into the fire, hoping that this summary cremation of the ar ticle would have a salutary effect on the future conduct of the school. The next day a new base ball was rather conspic uously displayed by a nervy youth, who seemed devotedly attached to it, and who, after fondling it a short time, ac tually threw it across the room to an other boy while the teacher was look ing straight at him. Of course the teacher captured the ball and hastened to the stove with it. But just as he was about to throw it in his quick eyo dis covered a peculiar expression in the face of the owner of the ball and asmile of serene triumph. The teacher had been a boy himself once, and he knew that expression meant mischief. So in stead of throwing the ball into the stove he threw it into his desk for further consideration. The next day he devo ted the noon hour to such further con sideration, and on removing the leather cover and a thin wrapping of yarn he found the interior a solid mass of pow der, containing enough to have lifted the roof off the house, and probably most of the scholars into eternity. If he had thrown the ball into the stove, as he came near doing, the ingenious lad who planned the novel torpedo might not have survived to enjoy the fruits of his invention, but thanks to the timely caution of the teacher and an overruling Providence, the youth is spared to pursue his experiments in a broader field and on a larger scale. The Oldest KuiMingr in New England. Medford, Mass., claims to have the oldest building in New England. The Boston Post thus describes it: "It is known as the old fort' or 'Gov. Cradoek's Mansion,' and is a two story brick house, and was built by Mr.Crad ock, probably in Ki.'Jl. It has been called the 'Fort' and the 'Garrison House,' because its walls were so thick and because it had close outside shut ters and port-holes. It is well placed for a house of defense. It is on land slightly elevated, where no higher land or rocks could be used by enemies to assail it, nnd is so near the river as to allow of reinforcements from Boston. Its walls are eighteen inches thick. There were heavy iron bars across the two large arched windows, which are near the ground in the back of the house; and there are several lire-proof closets in the building. The house stood in an open field for a century and a half, and could be approached only by a private road through gntes. (As the outside door was cased with iron, it is certain it was intended to be fire proof. There was one pane of glass, set in iron, placed 111 the back wall of the western chimney so as to afford a sight of persons coming from the town. The house has undergone few changes. Mr. Francis Shedd, who bought it in the year 1805, found the east end so decayed and leaky that he took apart of it down and rebuilt it. A movement is on foot now to set aside the premises as a museum for the deposit of anything of historical interest in Medford amVits old limits." An Extraordinary Surgical Operation. Dr. Foulis, of Glasgow, exhibited to the Medical Society of London, at their meeting on Jnnuary 14, a remarkable application by hiiii of an artificial larynx. James Houston, a cloth work-er,twenty-nine years of age, a native of Campsea, near Glasgow, had a ma lignant sarcomatous tumor in his larnyx which obstructed respiration. It had twice been removed by opening the larynx and taking it out, but it had re curred, and from its malignant charac ter would have produced death, if the operation which Dr. Foulis described had not been performed. The larynx has been entirelv taken out and an ar tificial one substituted. The patient was produced at. the meeting of the Medical Society. He conversed with the members, and read to the meeting a passage from the prayer-book. The operation of removing the larynx was first performed by Billroth, of Vienna, in 1873, and the first attempt at supply ing a new larynx was made for Bill roth's patient by Gussenbour, whose original instrument now worn by James Houston is an improvement of Gussen bour's by Dr. Irvine, of Glasgow. This is the first time the operation has been performed in England. It has been ten times tried on the continent, with varying success. The present is the most successful case, the patient be ing in better health than he experienced for many months. The deliberate and careful manner in which the operation wa performed in this case probably ac counts for the successful result. Care was takn to introduce a tube into the windpipe as soon as it was cut across, and below the seat of the disease, so that no blood could get into the lungs during the further steps of the opera tion. Dr. Foulis thus had ample time to thoroughly accomplish the removal of the larynx. The whole operation oc cupied two and a half hours, the pa tient being under the influence of chlo roform. Reeovery has been uninter-4Jand, rupted, ana tpore is no appearance whatever of recurrence. The man is quite fit for light ofljee work. The lar nyx supplied to him consists of two tubes, one of which goe. downward to the trachea and the other upward to the mouth. The patient can talk in a whi-jH'r without these, tube-, when a reed plate is slipped into a groove in the lower tube a resonant sound is produced, which is modulated into letters and words by the mouth. The articulation with or without reeds is perfect. The reeds are made of metal, vulcanite, ivory, horn, etc., and the patient himself is fond of making reeds which give his voice new and surprising tone.-. The voice is a monotone, varying in timbre according to the reed used. The s-ound-waves of 'the patient's voice on Kenig'.s mirror are similar to those of other voices, as was shown by Mr. Ward with the mirror lent by Mr." Spotliswoode at the meeting of the' Medical Society. Dr. Geo. Buchanan, who was in the chair on that occasion. Dr. W. B. Rich ardson, Prof. Listerand others spoke very warmly of the results achieved. London Tijnes. Shadraeh, Xeshach, and Abcdnego. Some persons have doubted whether the Babylonians were guilty of such "extreme cruelty" as to cas't persons alive into a burning fiery furance, a in the ease of Shadraeh, Meshach. and Abednego, mentioned by Daniel (iii.: 26.) They are strangely forgetful of innumberable ery imartyrdoms, very much more slow in Itheir tortuue, and therefore more .cruA, than the seven times heated fumaclfof Babylon. Mr. H. F. Talbot has discovered ample proof in the Assyrain writings that both this punishment, and that of cast ing men alive into the den of lions, as Daniel wa? treated, were in common use at Babylon during the reign of As surbanipal, who preceded Nebuchad nezzar on the throne by less than 20 years. Saulmugina, the younger broth er of Assurbanipal, having risen in rebellion against his sovereign, and having failed in the attempt, was not spared by his angrv brother. The fol owing brief reconl is suflicient to tell its own terrible tale: "My rebellious brother, Saulmugina, who made war with me, was cast into a burning, fiery furnace." Many of Saulmugina's ad herents were treated in the same man ner; and the remainder were otherwise disposed of in the following way, as Assurbanipal very pithily says : "The rest of the people I threw alive among bulls and lions, as my grandfather, Sennacherib used to act ; and I, follow ing his example, have thus treated these rebellious men." Trul v may we exclaim, with the Psalmist, "'l'he dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty." The London Quarterly Re view. ' An Old English Politician. The political career of Sir Francis Burdett, who was the idol of the Eng lish people in the reign of George III., needs no special mention save his re markable bearing toward the House of Commons in April, 1810. He was or dered to the Tower for a libel on that ody, and stood a siege of horse and oot in his house in Piccadilly for several days before the warrant could lie exe cuted. But the story of his death is a strange one. It was the fortune of this "Fine Old English Gentleman" to mar ry a daughter of W. Cotitts, the bank era relative of the celebrated lady philanthropist of that name and the pair lived together with singularattaeh ment and harmony for upwards of fifty years. Toward the close of 18 IM, Lady Burdett" s state of health excited great alarm in the familv, and she died Jan uary K. 1811. Her death sounded her husband's knell. She who had been so long the partner and .sharer of hi joys and troubles, the mother of his children, the friend of his soul, being now removed, from that instant life be came an insupportable burden to him. Kesolutely refusing food or nourish ment of any kind, he died on the '22d of the same month just thirty-four years ago and the man and wife were buried side by side in the same vault at the same hour on the same day, in the Church of Kamsbury, Wiltshire. St. Louis Republican. Alphonso and Merceries. The correspondent of the New York World describes the King aud Queen of Spain, as they appeared on their wed ding day: The young King, though still slight and boyish in appearance, has filled out considerably since he rode on his white charger, for the first time, through the streets of Madrid in 1874. He wore the uniform of a captain-general of the Spanish army, with the col lar of the Golden Fleece, not the one just lost, however, by his royal cousin, the pretender Don Carlos. The Princess, who, though not a beau ty, has an Andalusian grace and full ness of figure, sparkling, dark eyes, black and abundant hair, and a lively, spirituelle expression, wore a supefb bridal dress entirely of Spanish manu facture. Her train was six meters long, of white velvet, starred with silver and fringed with heavy silver bullion. The skirt was of white satin, made in Val encia and sown with pearls. She wore a superb lace veil, which floated over her whole person, and was caught here and there with brooches of diamonds of incomparable brilliancy, the gift of the Duchess of Galliera, who was made famous in Paris years ago by her ro mantic affection for the Princess' father then the gay, dashing young Duke of Montpensier and who but the other day insisted upon giving the Duke a splendid residence and property near Bologna, valued at 10,000,000 francs, which was a part of the immense for tune left by her late husband, and re fused, as will be remembered, by her eccentric but accomplished son. The New Herse-Sfcee. The English agricultural and other presses are in raptures over the Yates horse-shoe, constructed of cow-hide. It is composed of three thickneses of cow-hide, compressed in to a steel mould, and then subjected to a chemical preparation. It is claimed for it that it lasts longer and weighs only one-fourth as much as the com mon iron shoe; that it wiU never cause the hoof to split, nor have the least in jurious influence on the foot. It re quires no calks; even on asphalt the horse never slips. The shoe is so elastic that the horse's step is lighter and surer. It adheres so closely to the foot that neither dust nor water can penetrate between the shoe and hoof. If all that is claimed for it be true, the new hide shoe will prove a great im provement upon the old. The idea, however, is by no means a new one. At the time of the Roman and Carthage nian wars it was a frequent practice among cavalry officers to bind the feet of their horses with raw cow-hide to protect them from injury during an en gagement. The inventor of the new shoe, Mr. Yates, of Manchester, Eng- is nevertheless entitled to everv consiaeraiion ior utilizing, in practical form, raw hide as a substitute for heavy iron shoes, Thirf, Field, and Farm. FAIL. (MKI)E.N' AND IIOUSEIIOI.il firrm Feed for larlas lira. A dailr ration in green food is aelu- I ally nece -ary for laying hen-. Veget able, either cooked or raw. are much reli?hd also, and ervc in some ma ure to supply the. place vl green diet. Onion chopiK-d line and mixed with I their fin! are exceeding! wholesome, j and if not a cure are certainly a pre ventive of disease tit many instance. Griming chickens are even more anx ious for green fowl than laying hen. They crave it, and. when neeevary to be hotL-ed from it on account of inclem ent weather, it hould be provided for them. There is no green food m whole-.-oine for them as onion tops cut up tine. 'arr of ComiRS'ia 'o. W. D. P. writes to the Massachusetts Ploughman as follows: The milkmen near Boum have found a iati-fa?tory remedy for abortion in cow? in the u-e of lime. They give it to the cows by sprinkling a ..KXnful at a time over their food, two or three times a week; or sometimes they sprinkle lime among the hay as it is stowed awav in the barn. A neighbor of mine, who keep about twenty ews. and who wa- for merly much troubled by abortion among his herd, informs me that for the lal three vears, since he has made use of lime, he has not had a ca-e, and that verv many of his acquaintances have had similar experience with their herds. Uotr lo Fm1 (own. Feed the cows liberally. Plenty of boiled corn and ground feed, with good hay and fodder makes plenty of milk. A bucket of tepid water, well salted, with a little bran stirred in, will in crease the flow of milk. Breaking young heifers that are restless and di posedto kick a milk .stool or bench i made, two feet long, with a hoop atone end to hold the bucket ju.st tinder the teats, convenient for milking rapirilv with both hands. Tho cow cannot kick the bucket over or get dirt in it. Any of the boys can make one by putting a heavy water bucket hoop on the end of a light bench, six inches wide, two feet long, with strong legs. Western Ayri culturift. Whut ;nlilut'M n Car Ixnl. In general, 20,000 pounds is acar load: it is also 70 barrels of salt, 70 of lime. of flour, 00 of whisky, 200 sacks of flour, 0 cords of hard wood, 7 of soft, 18 to 20 head of cattle. W to 60 head of hogs, 80 to 100 head of sheep, 0,000 feet of solid boards, 17,000 feet of .sid ing. .'''t.OOO feet of flooring, -10,000 shin gles, one-half less of hard lumber, one quarter less of green lumber, one-tenth less of joists, scantling and all other large lumber, .'M0 bushels of wheat. -1 tJO of corn, 080 of oats, -100 of barley. .'U'O of flax-seed, MO of apples, -180 of Irish potatoes, .'WO of sweet potatoes, and 1. 000 bushels of bran. The foregoing ta ble may not be exactly correct, for the reason that railroads do not agree in their rules and estimates, hut it approx imates so eloselv to the average that shippers will find it a great conven ience as a matter of reference. The Indian Poet King. I am going to tell you of a trip to the muiitaiii of Te.cosingo, famous in Az tec days as being the pleasure garden ami retreat of the Indian poet-king, Ne.ahuacoyolt. From Texcoco the trip is wildly picturesque and grandly beau tiful. The curiously constructed bath of Nczahtiacoyolt is cut from a solid block of granite overhanging the brow of the hill. The rock has a .smooth surface several anl-. square, and drop ping from its center is a circular basin some three or four feet deep and a doz en or more in circumference. Out of one :?ide is cut a seat for the accommo dation of the bather, while, rising from the surface a little back is another hav ing a perfect chair form, with a rest on one side for the arm. Protecting the outer .side of this is a wall a part of the same rock into which seats have been cut, and various little niches in the form of miniature steps, which might have been used by the old Indian mon arch as receptacles for his toilet para phernalia. Following along the still well pre served path, we came to a chamber cut into the side of the hills, now unroofed and in ruins, the floor being strewn with debris. At the end of this vaulted chamber was a raised platform a foot in height and several feet square, hewn from .solid rock, and on either corner, back of this, were niches chiseled out, with fragments of cement still clinging to their sides. We have since learned that between these, above the platform, there still remained at the beginning of the present century a large calendar stone, which was later destroyed by the neighboring Indians in search of treas ure. This curious work must have cost its builders a vast deal of labor. Separating himself from the cares of his kingdom, Nezahuacoyolt came for retirement to this beautiful mountain, .and here, four times a day for forty days, on bended knees, he offered pray er and incense to "the all-powerful God, hidden and unknown.'' It is said that in answer to these earn est petitions a vision appeared to neof his servants in attendance, directing him to go at once to his master with the comtorting assurance that the un seeu God had been pleased to accept his prayers and offerings, and would avenge him by the hands of his son, Axoquat zin, a boy of only seventeen years. The king could not accept the supernatural vision, which was. however, fulfilled. Xezahuacoyolt, upon hearing of the fulfillment of'what he had considered a false prophecy.retired in humiliation to the garden of his palace, and. kneeling on the ground, gave thanks to the un known God for his signal benefits. prom ising to build a temple to his house, to abstain from idolatrous worship and human sacrifices, and to alone acknowl edge the supremacy of the unknown God. In compliance with his vow he built a tower nine stories high, the in terior of which he garnisheu with gold and precious stones, and the exterior of which he covered with black cement, embellished with stars. The workman ship was of the most expensive order. In this superb tower were stationed men, whose duty it was, at certain hours of the day, to strike upon plates of fine metal, at the sound of which the monarch fell upon his knees in prayer. San Francisco Bulletin. PTerty aad NafleriBj?. "I tu dragged down with debt, poverty and suffering: for years, caused by a sick family and large bills for doctoring, which did them no good. I was completely discouraged until one year ago. by the advice of my pastor, I procur ed Hop Bitters and commenced their use, and in one month we were all well, and none of us have been sick a day since, and I want to sav to all poor men,you can keep jour families well a year with Hop Bitters for less than one doc tor's visit will cost 1 know it. A. WOKRIXGMAS." The Liberian Exodus Association, of South Carolina, report that 100,000 col ored persons have signified a desire emigrate to Liberia. I'SKKl'L KKCirKS. Freia" of CAi-ln. Cut lb" rljwi; en in small pieN. jut cmt'r with wa ter, iMn highlr. add a U-w very ron!! piece- of jHrk; "if a fat chwrken not a verv large piece of bMter. add a (v potntin. cttt in half; lcforr taxing from the tire remove Uie ltd and dn-dg ja a little &Mir. Ihrior'f-nut rtxJhf.Two citpfwl- f -ugar ami wjo of btKr wU mMwd to gether; four eggs, tho "Mt4s "l Jk. beaten sepnratirty. one cupful of eoM water; three enpfub of .sified floor; one toaspw'nful of sdti. twit of cnmju tar tar, ami twuoupfuU of kernel of hick ory nuts. I'eromt t't . TaVt tuo pounU and a half of prvpstrud thur; aUl on 4at and a half of odd milk, a MMtd of bol ter, a (Nund of stfied -ugar. a pooiwl of currants, a quarter of a jmoi4 of hm on and orange jeel. and a little grnte! nutmeg. etuuauHm and albpice. Tut in a round tin ami like an Inmr Thi rich cake may bo either iced or urwn monted. 7V: lticttiL - One pint of r milk or buttermilk, one teaqM.nful of "Kdit. dissolved in a very little hot water, two tablespuonfuls of" melted butter, door enough to make a soft ihnigh. but stilf enough to handle; mt, rH and cut out rap'uih and with as little bundling a.s possible; bake in a quick oven. Flo-flo Cukes. One pound of sugar, one pound of butter, eight gg. om pound and a quarter of flour, two ounc es of currants, and half a nutmeg; mix the butter with the sugar ami spice, then add half the eggs, and bent for a few minutes: add the rest of the eggs, and work for live minutes longer; stir in the flour and currants, then bukc- in to shapes. Lobster Ihiffue. Moil six pounds of lobster, take out and chop line, take a quart of milk, a tahlc-poonful of butter and flour mixed together, a little mace and red pepper, one egg well beaten, let boil, then stir in the lobster; serve immediately. The same amount of lob ster prepared as above, and put in .scal lop dishes with bread-crumbs on top and pieces of butter, and baked in large pans. Mttliciettt to brown the top is a very delicate dish. Seotrh Funrt Vit. . Hub half pound of butter into pound and a half of flour, break four eggs into three-quarters of a pound sugar, and whisk them l min utes; make a print with the butler ami flour; pour in the 'ggs and sugar, and add half a gill of cream; mix all into a dough; then cut into pieces about two inches across, and an eighth of an inch thick; cover the tins with buttered pa per; lay the cakes on and bake. The Foot and the round. The foot ami tin potiud are found in every country, and have evident! been derived direct! from the Koniuus Hut they can claim a far higher antiqui ty, for Mr. Chisholtu traces their ou ght to the ltahloniaiis or Chaldean, who, as units of length, used both the cubit and the foot. These were .subse quently adopted by the Kgvptiaiis. who introduced considerable variety. ; so that there is no little confusion between the diflerent kinds of cubit and foot. The natural cubit, of about l.S inches and the foot, which was two-thirds of this length, was transferred to Greece, and. he cubit having fallen into disuc. the foot became the ordinary standard of the tomans. At the same tune the cubit, which was equivalent to three feet, would appear to have survived in the form of the ell of 1 1'ueval Kurope. and in that of our own vard. As all these measures were originally derived from the proportions of the human bod, some caution is necessary in refer ring their origin to remote autiquit rather than directly to the length of the forearm or of the foot. It must be ad mitted, however, that the coincidence of length among all civilized nations is very striking. The derivation of the pound weight is more complicated The earlier Tower pound appears to have been of Homau origin, being pre sumably identical with the Greek-Asiatic miua. while the hundredweight cor responded to the talent ar weight of a cubic foot of water, hubseqiieutly the Troy pound was substituted, and. for commercial tiansactioti. the pound avoirdupois, from the old French pound of 19 ounces. It is evident, however, that our weights and tni'.iiiriy in the dark ages were in an unsettled .-late, and subject to arbitrary alterations at the will of the monarch. TVic Saturday Review. Josh Hillings Tells about lite Goslin. The goslin is the old goose's young child. They are yellow all over and as soft as a ball of worsted. Their foot iz wove whole, and they kan swim as easy az a drop of castor oil on water. Thev are born annally about the 1.0th of May. and never was known to die naturally. If a man should tell me he saw a goose die a natural death, I wouldn't believe him on his oath after that, not even if he wore he had lied about seeing a goose die. The goose are different :n one respect from the human family, who are .ed to grow weaker and wizer, whereas a gozlin alwus grown tufier and more phoolish. I have seen a goose that they seil was 93 years old last June, and didn't look an "hour older than one that was onlv 17. The goslin waddles when he walks and paddles when he swims, but never dives like a duck, out of sight in the water, but only changes cml. The food uv the goalin iz rye, corn, oats, barley, sweet apple--, hasty pud ding, succotash, and bilcd cabbage, cooked patatoze, raw meat, wine, jelly, and ternips, stale bread, kohl hash, and buckwheat cakes that are left ov r. They ain't so particular az um pholks what they eat, won't get mad and quit if they kant have wet toast and lam chops everv morning for brak fast. . The hard flinty wheat of Texas and other, hot dry countries is used to make flour for the West Indian and South American markets. Flour made of Northern wheat will sour in those countries, but tha tloar of fexs wheat, being dryer, will remain per fectly sweet. It is also richer in glu ten, and wi!! make more and better bread or biscuit. Before the invention of the "new process" of grinding wheat it was difficult to make a nice clear sample of flour from it, and steaming the grain was practiced.ths object lieing to toughen thn bran and prevent cutting so mu"h in grinding .iitd boUni3 through w;tn the fl-mr. But millers now, crush it with rollers, aud grind it by the "new process' thereby miking a superior grade of tiour. vrxv in: Njiu.i.utt TWklvt ? wrfltr if-tV"nil to iter VtjtJiwrt Mft . w !& ut tmrf. t n-h r-U nlvUii t iftrfwr fArmlir rMwif v !; frtrtwrnnl tat f4-int ! pu.Hmc Mn. nmwAM$ twt vrry far hi ii f. fm !i t at mf n hi,;!) Urn t tmt ptt fmt prtMr work. - 9&n mm a "" dvp f fcalit-. hMrom fc qm ml lK h- rarfy wfc-w rtMt i'ws taswwiy s.iiu in tM- mo mi m mjm Ik Nm iW. Or. i.xll -W itw S-M Mft Hfcr trt4Vlr -. aI tr lwu ImC Yi U lall-r. ttoti m Jh $ Urn J m r slitum,. U i x!t y an H&imI t"rv rxjrJnesu. tmlf Immwi piiftfaUljr wwar -.; tM s:!UMl.hftr '' rmmn ta jHmttc UU KlWr yfaneHm - llw mm iwrHl. r tt fci to. in;atatoi t d-ef pfon Ut. Ui 's. rJ www, fktf tfcw rtn tit -, far jt H hMHU ei U nti a t tbf rn. t-v fc4 ll. A prtfcrttt way Ufct an 1 -!:!. riM)'. bU W ! tn eesv. tr b Um v)ka U urap rtr ireirs4 lw U,ar m Uw tw f r-rtlM o tsxrurtw to away. fcttttUr e cary u m Um fmHexxttam nf Um ! w!y sn.MaNU ; iha ih iaty w) rmttry alr H-". " itt ana. Tht It tW. iwrtm n4aitf bat U i h nt f of lasl latttiMirws. Ttaw rt-ultA Mki) b vmusM by um har af one rtttuiituttv, or ot jxrvrJ. Taa. U ym ;4h ti-et, turaini; at rra1 l whlra hcv not t-e miUfct by aa!M " at&aat. and pfoMt tac -sfc. of aar mtin attain ta tlds then ne tfI wmtr If on S! eotueet ( Uslm; a rrtwty iw yu Imbltn a dosiiM. slmtUttjt iar v Utxil tli Hon- hleti tHiU wrn. wl Vou turn np rtaii s4i. vhVr"h us h ltrt;tm none , tbo ftttlQftUn rftnafta ncor.-vsary u lit It to Wecnwm a prtr rd hrd rr thini i-xrrpl U nu4 waffis .vi. t vvtkl, uti snwrs (tti II lain Uric 3 oil tUcf sr-ls nf ttr tu.rl rrup. t ar pttn' sliouM i w If ya a-i hva tT h r-iilt.t!,t rMrt h h-n ilntw ta a vary' simple lv. V git-tin tl f :. tnc Cram a reoftjl Mlru!fcMi bUHf a Ivmn' flwa, and wr think tho ;ilhHi 11. m In rvynnl to the niMe hy w'hwh w hnt w tatw kitt ed. Is a very ptnttslbiti chm "Wr ana U4 wh.-nt will tl wttiW-lUU m rrmtllly l.' la siirftiet on! Is ruUtvtiUol, ittfclit a aatt tilth for Um s.isl, y thr r four tat-ntm deip, all li.-low that dpth twit;; pnrt-Mt down by the trtNidlitv: id llw Uhi. WlMttt should not h ilrdltl ht mt- lUnm l&iatt Infills. I know of .ifvi'tnl ml tntluum mt ground cross plowed nnd worked t Uwa .nut deep, nnd so-d vttit-ii as Mtdkvr a Hrwilrii." Whiter strain In ourrilianle )iaJd mil tie iiionrc,,d to o dou d'p lit tli full, for I lie tHmviiiK or ! gruuad will tin-uk tin rsts, ainl then in th spring whi'ii tli'4 plants are uinkliu' tmn ro.il. v.-l-uatdf time U lost, and tin unhappy turMnir Wonders what id's hi . tntit. nv,l b nys. 'It s.-.Miis to jo Im.-U." Ih tht v trial: jr. this., who only n!llvttl the smfwN". doill liuve 11 fut'lilf, while lll-oi- win ph4V lllhl preHiie lite 'H'mI t,ep itlfl HlM. olVn iiii-ct wltlt total 1 11 Hit re. IUi. sr. awt lrw of the fanners rro'-tov i-. ;arfaot cultivation only, ltr h.'lHur hfceti wa. wk practleisl j eis ml'o, aim! rm,MMit''iw4it ly the l.tle John len. M, of ssl MoNMtrj. And we have loiind t est .-t 1. 1. thai H t the best wn M To this stittetiie nt another et,rr ta!tHi tile fulluwlej': "It is tflle tt'lt HbMll fepitlH eomp.u't Mill, no imtt'et ho often ar lov deep the plowing he mud. The ktt ettluV Vittion shotthl Ih- Mtfdi w will hMVe lit Jiev T holl well eoinpnted. We ar" U U Ih the custom In iriiMit) to Jr - fWf sdn-ep or herds of otllil ewttle iiT wheMt Ueids, alter the sowlnii. U prto tM;c to pin-it the poll a-, a prp-r',lttHiM Uf vBeat. Without Nokliie. Iieyoa! the u h at erp 1 should not runwldrr tt ry U ninfcw hut one de-p p owlntr ttroa(h a aaaMr f.Olow. I tut for other rrnp thut U4.1. I -hoiihi prefer lo plow d.-p etry Uaw In older that toe ..ssN in Ue mM h) aw -d to Keruilti-ite ,01 o l oVliorul. Tain cleanlui: ot land Is the trim u t fca naia uier I id low, nnd it caint b Umrtaataly HrforinMl hy shallow pw !k. tr by ia cultivator, no matter Ihi-at ituoty Hat- Um uk he ilone, for it donN only with the mm fure -of, while below th need reiiinin rwly lit make trouble when brvtittht to it lata. H'tttirn r'in Awirmtl. llj Vour Coinpany Vou are Known. It is of the utmost imporWUMsr that. voiine; men nhould Uv careful iti tba m lection of their companion. Nl only is it true that "evil eoinmanieati n corrupt good man uerV bttt It t trtta that the world fenr 11 man who e4m pany is not beyond qn-stiori. This i a very reasonable filing. Th taa dard of character vvhieh on i -.juinrVd with in his associate: it a eorroet stan dard of hi own ehnratr. To n maa of genteel breeding and hale mind the manner, word.- and look of ta coar.-e ill-manner-d man is rvjmliM. and he in.-tin-tivelr hhrinks frota oval-act with such a one. Th il Ia guage and coar-e shmjc of th rwwdy tnake-i the gentleman .shudder, ami a fells oppressed whenever Utroii kto hi.- company. The. freqtieaUrrs of Hue bar-room are insufferable to Um aa or woman who i- aecusiojaed to nMi a-ioeiatis whoe thoughts uxv eaao bliug and whose, language w pnro. Taa young man whom ocu y win xrmA and honor can itnd no ph-junire in iH language, .society or haLtl-i of th low bred. If. therefore, wa k fell companion-, it U not wonderfal t alien men and women hIimm tt. kaow ing that were our natures safBtrieailr morbid to enjoy tieh u-woeinia. wa would avoid it Wts cannot nfM ihb .scrutiny of the world. Wa belong U the world, and it has a right to weiga. us in the "alanee, for itrf inirif4H ara at stake. Our lire- leave nomelhiut; f an impression upon society, mhI al though it may !mj .o slight a -rarwly fa be noticed yet it m j.uVient U kva something of an impreMn. That our habits, the characters of our asj-ociatari and all of our surroundings should 0 carefully looked into by or neighbor. is just and right. But further Hum thL. there is constant need of man places of honor and tmt, and when such places are to be tilled, it is rua-on-able that .society rhould scrutinize taa life of hirn who" may offer Ui till them, and if everything " not clear to lakis the benefit of the doubt ite1f. Evidently, therefore, the -iderUo of good companions is the voung man.- important duty. Keep clear of rude ness as much a-? possible. If necessa rily thrown into contact with it. do not rnb against it or associate with it more than is absolutely necessary. "Evil communication.- corrupt good man ners." Gen. Grant has sent home, a package of the jrifts he has received abroad. The gold boxes presented by Glasgow and Ar and the Edinburjr -silver boxes are among them. Then there are gold, silver and bronze medals, illuminated addresses, badges and decorations. f v I?