Nebraska Newspapers

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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?