A Spoiled Child.,
I'roin Hearth mid Hum.
A few days ago we 'were' taking a holi
day in the country alter our wont. At
the house of the friend where we gen
erally founl ourselves the only guest,
we t Ills time found a strange visitor.
The stranger was n lad of seventeen,
and a curiosity which we feel called
upon to describe.
Unfortunately ho was not bo rare a
curiosity as wo could wish. lie was a
young man who had been spoiled in all
that makes manliness, health, vigor,
brightness of life and spirit, by two
mistakes on the part of his parents and
sisters.
In the first place, this unfoitunate
young m-ui hol been allowed no respite
from drugs and doctor.". When he was
an infant he had begun with soothing
syrup and baby drops; ho had ad
vanced into ipecac, grown upon squills
and guiicurn, and culminated with
calomel and quinine. No drug had
been allowed to dodge him. No breath
of fresh air was allowed to blow upon
him. He had been laid down like a
carpet upon which the sun was never
tW be allowed to shine; lie was taken
up as if he were glass, and brittle. In
consequence he was frailer than the
violet, and more colorless than the lily.
Of course his appetite and his powers
of digestion were pretty nearly gone in
consequence of this treatment. It was
amusing to see hi doleful air at dinner.
He seemed to regard potatoes as poison
ous aiul strong meat as a mocker. He
had to be urged to eat; and a serious
question arose about each mouthful.
Could he chew it? Could he swallow
it? Could he digest it?
The poor lad was too delicate to walk
Rmile; an J the girls were vexed to
find for beau were scarce in the vil
lage, and the evenings were then made
charming by the full moon that the
"state of his health did not permit him'
to attend any of them homo.
But this was not the end of the poor
fellow's failings. He was the most
effeminate young man that we ever taw.
His friends thought him handsome, but
his beauty was simply that of tolerably
regular feature and the pdlor of com
plexion which many persons, evt n in
thesecommon-sen.se days, think to be
44 hit-creating." His voice was weak and
drawling, he was nervous and timid,
though, being ;i gentleman born and
bred, he was not bashful, and behaved
himself well enough but for this hick of
manliness. Without having any definite
ailment, ho seemed to be, and was, a
continual invalid. With every advan
tage, or the possibility ol every advan
tage, t!i it his parents' money and posi
tion could buy, he remained a nonentity.
And the oddest pirt of the story is that
his parents were healthy, breezy, Stirling
people of the world, and, except in two
important points, sensible, oxcHhn: i
people.
Now let us ask what pos.-essed these
excellent persons to make such an
effeminate good-for-nothing of their
boy at seventeen years of age?
It w.vs two evil spirits that led them
away the witch of dosing, and the
witch of over-petting.
They had given him so much medi
cinethat his physical vitality was wasted
away. To be sure, as they thought, that
he should receive no injury, they had
kept him from the playground, and
froiu out-door air and sun-light. They
had caressed him and fondled him at
home, and kept him in such ignorance
of the rougher outer world that as a
child he had no heart or desire to seek
playmate,-', or, later, friends and fellows
there. Ho was very religious; he was
determined to be a minister, but how
could he free the college and the semi
nary The thought of the rough treat
ment ho might expect, to receive from
a boisterous class of young men made
Iris cheek grow paler than ordinary
when the subject of Ids future studies
were mentioned. And, indeed, he was
a most tempting subject for a college
44 hazing" or "smoking out." Hh help
less air invited rudeness, and should he
ever get to college we may be pretty
sure that his experiences will go on
record among thoo of the worst-used
freshmen of his day.
Now, what is the value of this forlorn
character to us? Simply to show an
instance ol those sad mistakes which
are made not merely by ignorant and
foolish parents and sisters, but by those
who are in the main sensible in respect
to this matter of dosing and humoring
boys. All boys, fortunately, cannot be
spoiled in these ways, but here .was a
young fellow, perhaps of delicate con
stitution at the start, who was, except
in a moral sense, ruined by the foolish
and officious care that had been taken
of him from infancy. Ho was taught
to be self-conscious, dyspeptic, a recluse
to whom sunlight and society were dis
tasteful. It was an admirable training,
perhaps, for a monk, butjt was a ruin
ous one for a man.
Let the medicine chest, then, severely
alone in most cases. Don't bo afraid of
little, or of a great deal of air and
sunlight. Encourage your boy, if he be
at all delicate or nervous in constitu
tion, to seek the society of his fellows.
Don't shut him up with his si-tcrs all
day long in the library, Books are
good enough, and a sister's petting is
an excelli nt thing. Kven calomel lias
its use. But the best instruction for
the growing child is a hearty life out of
doors. The sweetest sister's friendship
may injure if it keeps boys at home
from school, and cuts them oil from the
healthy life and friendship of the play
ground. That other misused thing, the
family medicine-chest, is like a battery
f mitraiUcu&cs, ony good in time of war,
when disease makes a determined
charge upen the household. Then semi
for the doctor, ond give up home
dosing. In this way we may avoid
seeing so many examples of the char
acter we have described the delicate,
melancholy, dead-and-alive spoiled
child.
I h a prs ned the other day to call upon
a London publisher whoso business is a
good deal with writers and readers of
novels. He showed me a large solid,
wooden box he had just received, a cube
of some twenty feet every way, and
bound at the corners with iron. The
box was addressed in painted letters to
his publishing house, and contained
what did it contain A serviceof plate,
a present of books, a few dozen of
wine 7 Nothing of the sort; only the
MSS. of a novel which he was requested
to publish I The novel was written in
small and neat characters, in a series of
bound volumes of the ledger and day
book style, and these volumes wero
numerous enough to fill completely the
treasure chest which had been so care
fully jnovided for their reception. My
friend, the publisher, assured me that
the author or authoress of thi yet un
published work of fiction is not a luna
tic, but a pane person, in the ordinary
sense of the word. My friend does not
propose to publish the novel, but he is
a generous man, and ottered to allow me
to read it. if 1 wished. Correspondence
Nexo York Mail.
A Desperate Knee.
Several years ago a convivial party
hict in tho principal hotel of the capi
tal of the oik Buckeye State. Many
were the stories and adventures told by
the company. One man, in particular,
had just finished a narrative w hich was
regarded by his auditors as being a little
more than marvelous, when a Senator,
who happened to be ono of tho party,
coolly remarked that the story just
told was all very well, but it did not
begin to compare with an adventure he
himself had a few years before. Of
course all were eager to hear the story,
more especially because it was true,
ami the Senator prefaced his remarks
by saying that what he was about to
relate he would most solemnly proclaim
to be the truth, except, of course, those
matters therein stated on information
and belief. The company, however,
interrupted him, and insisted that he
should 4igo on."
44 Well, gentlemen, many years ago
I came down the Ohio river,and settled
near the present site of Cincinnati. It
was very wild in that region then, for
Cincinnati was only a small settlement,
and the blasted redskins were almostas
thick as trees in the forest. Well, to
come at once to my adventure I start
ed oil" one morning pretty early to take
a hunt, and traveled a long way down
the river over the hills, but could not
find bear or deer. About four o'clock
in the afternoon I made tracks for
home. By and by I sees a buck just
ahead of me walking leisurely down to
the river. 1 .-lipped up with my faith
ful old do: close in my rear, to within
clever shooting distance, and just as
the buck stuck his nose down to drink
I drew a bead upon his top-knot, and
over he tumbled and kicked and
splurged awhile, wlmi I fame up and
relieved him by cutting his throat."
44 But what h:id that to do with an
adventure?" they asked.
"A great ileal, by .Jove. For while
I was busy skinning the hind-quarters
of the buck and stowing away the. kid
ney fat in my hunting shirt, I heard a
noise, made, no doubt, by a moccasin.
My dog also heard it, and star ted up to
:veonnoitre, and I lost no time in re
loading my riile. I had hardly got my
priming out before my dog raised a
howl and broke through the brush
with his tail down, as he was not used
to doing unless wolves or Indians were
around. I picked up my knife and
took up my line of march up the Aver.
The frequent pullies on the lower bank
made it tedious traveling there, so I
scrambled up to the upper bank, which
w.tsj retty well covered with trees, with
out much underbrush. Onepeepbelow
satisfied me, for I saw three as big red
ra-c.ds a- you ever clapped your eyes
on. Yes, they were not above six hun
dred yards in my rear."
44 Well, said an old woodsman, who
was sitting at the table, "you took a
tree, of course."
44 Did I? No gentlemen I took no
tree, just then but I took to my heels
like sixty, and it was just as much as
my old dog could do to keep up with
me. I ran until the whoop of tho red
skins grew fainter and fainter behind
me, and, clean out ol wind, I ventured
to look behind me, and there came one
single red whelp, putting and blowing,
not three hundred yards in my rear.
He had got on to a piece of land where
the trees were scarce and small. Now,
thinks I, old fellow, I will have you.
So 1 trotted off at a pace sufficient tolet
him gain on me, and when he had got
just ab jut near enough I wheeled and
fired, and down I brought him, dead as
a door-nail, at one hundred and twenty
yanK"
44 Then you scalped him, 1 suppose,"
said the woodsman.
44 Very clear of it, gentlemen for by
the time I got my rifle loaded, up came
the other two redskins, shouting and
whooping close on me, and away I
broke again like a race horse. I was
now about five miles from the settle
ment, and it was getting toward sunset.
I ran till my wind began to get pretty
short, when 1 looked back, and there
they came, snorting like buffaloes, and
one about two or three hundred yards
ahead of the other. So I acted possum
again until the first Indian got pretty
well up, and I wheeled and fired at the
very moment he was drawing a bead on
me. He lell heels over head into the
dirt, and up came the last one."
44 So you laid for him," gasped sev
eral. 44 No," contirued the Senator, 44 1 did
not lay for him I hid not time to load,
so I ran. I heard every bound he made'
after me. I ran and ran until the fire
flew out of my eyes, and the old dog's
tongue hung out of his mouth a quarter
of a yard."
44 lMiewl" whistled somebody.
"A fact, gentle en. Well, what was
I to do? 1 did not know. Bifle empty,
no big trees about, and a murdering red
Indian in my rear; and what was worse,
just then it occuried to mo that I was
not a great ways from a big creek, and
there I should be tinned at last. Just
at 'his juncture I struck my toe against
a root; down I tumbled, and my old
oogoverme. Before I could scramble
up the Indian fired and the ball struck
me under the shoulder; but that did
not in any way impede my locomotion,
for as soon as I got up I took off again,
quite refreshed by my fall. I heard the
redskin close behind me come dashing
on, and every minute I expected to
have his tomahawk dashed into my
head or shoulders. Something kind of
cool began to trickle down my legs into
my boots."
44 Blood, eh I for the shot the varmint
gin you," said the old woodsman, in a
great state of excitement.
44 I thought so," faid tho Senator,
"but what do you think it was? It
was the melted deer fat which I had
stuck in tho breast of my hunting shirt,
and tho grease ran down my legs until
my feet got 60 greasy that my heavy
boots flew off and one hitting the dog
knocked Ids brains out. I hope, gen
tlemen, no man here will presume to
think I am exaggerating."
"Oh, nol go on all chimed in.
44 Well, the ground under my feet was
I soft, and being relieved of my heavy
boots I put off with double quick time,
ami seeing the creek about half a mile
off, I ventured to look over my shoulder,
to seo what kind ot a chance there was
to hold up and load. The redskin was
coming jogging along, pretty well
blowed out, about fivo hundred yards
in the rear. Thinks I, here goes to load,
anyhow. So at it I went. In went the
powder, and putting on the patch, down
went the ball halfway, and otfsnapptd
my ramrod."
Thunder and lightning 1" shouted
the old woodsman, worked up to the
top notch in the story.
"Good gracious wasn't I in a pickle!
There was the red whelp within two
hundred yards of me, pacing along, and
loading up his rifle as he came. I jerked
out the broken ramrod, dahed it away,
and started on, priming upas I ran, de
termined to turn and give the redskin a
blast anyhow, as soon as I reached the
creek. I was now within a hundred
yards of the creek, and could see the
smoke from the settlement chimneys;
a few more jumps and 1 was by tliM
creek. The Indian was close upon me;
he gave a whoop and I raised my rifle
on he came, knowing that I had broken
my ramrod, and that my load was not
half down. Another whoop! whoop!
and he was within fifty yards of me!
1 pulled the trigger, and
44 Killed him? chuckled one of the
company.
"No, sir! 1 missed fire!
44 And the redskin?" shouted the
woodsman, in a frenzy of excitement.
44 Fired and killed me!
The Early Days of Win. L. Marey.
A cot respondent of the Liberal Chris
tian tells this story about William b.
Marey
I spent a day of my vacation at
Charlton, Mass. As we rode into the
village, on the evening of our arrival,
rve saw an old man on his way from his
house to the barn close by, going, with
ail in hand, to milk the cows. He was
ninety two years old. He not only
milks the cows, but drives them to pas
ture and goes after them again every
day, just as he has done for 1 know not
how many years. In the morning, as
we sat under the piazzi of the hotel,
the old man was seen walking along the
street on the other side, with a (prick,
energetic step, when Mr. Pratt called
him over to the house and introduced
us to him. He sat down and was very
chatty, talking over the times that were
long ago, and felling us of the years
when he saw such men as George Wash
ington and John Adams and Fisher
Ames, and mingled with the great
spirits of a generation which seems
quite distant from the men of to-day.
For General Salem Towne, our vener
able friend, was formerly himself a man
of mark and influence, well fitted by
nature and education to associate with
the most eminent of his contempora
ries. The General is often spoken of as
the man who made Bill Marey." Bill
Marey was a native of the immediate
vicinity, and grew up to be a wild and
heady youth. He was thought by his
parents and by all the neighbors to be
the worst boy they knew. One winter
he succeeded, in conjunction with kin
dred spirits, in ousting the teacher from
the district school. Salem Towne, then
a young man, was summoned :u tho
fittest person to take charge of these
unruly youth and complete the term.
Everybody thought the new teacher
would certainly have trouble with Bill
Marey. But the trouble did not come.
The first day had not passed before Mr.
Towne had discovered in his pupil an
element of real good, and told him so.
This, to the boy, was a most unusual
acknowledgment, and it touched his
heart. Some one had seen seen good
in him. He was, then, capable of better
things, anil he was determined to make
the endeavor.
It was the turning-point in his life.
Such was his conduct and such his pro
gress in study that his teacher advised
him to go on and prepare himself for
college. It was a great surprise to his
parents, but at the earnest solicitation
of Mr. Towne they gave their consent,
and he was placed under the instruc
tion of a clergyman in the vicinity of
his home. At length he entered col
lege, and Kissed through the course
with great success, justifying at every
step the confidence and hope of his
best friend. In subsequent life he rose
from one degree of eminence and use
fulness to another, until at last the
whole world was familiar with the name
and fame of the great statesman of New
York, William L. Marey.
Long years after he Irad left his
school-day haunts, and when he had
come to deserved eminence, Jie visited
Boston, and was the guest of the. then
Governor of the old Bay State. Among
the distinguished men who wero in
vited to meet him was General Salem
Towne. When the Governor saw Marey
and Towne greet each other as old
friends, he very naturally expressed a
pleasurable surprise that they knew
each other so well. 44 Why said
Marey, 44 that is the man that made me.
None no, not even my own father or
mother saw any good in me". He was j
the first who belie ed in me, befriended
me, told me what I might become, and
helped me on in life at that critical
juncture. Whatever of merit or dis
tinction I have 3ince attained to I owo
to him more than to any other living
person." We need not say that the
teacher, who has so long survived the
illustrious pupil, is proud to remember
that ho is 44 the man who made Bill
Marey."
The fires in Wisconsin iiavc been the
most extensive and destructive ever
known. Immense and valuable cran
berry marshes havo been consumed,
valuable pine timber burnt and render
i ed worth! ess, and much personal proj
crty of various kinds lost by the relent
less flames. The area burnt over in tho
Wisconsin Itivcr Valley is about three
thousand square miles, and the injury
inflicted by the fire will form a loss of
nearly $100,000.
An Iowa woman put starch in her hus
band's beer, thinking it was arsenic, and
was surprised because it didn't stillVn
him.
The Treatment of Dyspepsia.
Dyspejsia, or indigestion, both which
words mean essentially the same thing,
is the inability of the stomach to obtain
sufficient nutriment out of tho food eat
en to meet the wants of tho system ar.il,
not having enough, blind instinct calls
for more this call or desire for nourish
ment, is denominated hunger, which is
gratified ordinarily by ta' ing food into
the stomach. But, in a sense, naturo or
instinct makes a mistake, and calls for
more food when in reality it is not food
that is wanting, but the nourishment
which is in the food already eaten, and
which the stomach has not the streng h
to withdraw hence it is that a dyspep
tic has a craving appetite, in aggravated
cases is always eating, and is" always
hungry. But to eat more under such
circumstances is like giving a faithful
but invali 1 servant more work to do,
when there really is not strength enough
to perform what is already in hand or
it is like adding greater weight for the
noble horso to draw, when he is already
so oppressed by a heavy load as to bo
scarce able to drag it along a single step.
All dyspeptics iro weak, they lack
strength, the whole body is feeble, nd
the stomach has its share of debility, of
weakness hence tho essence of cure is
to increase the stomach's strength. But
all bodily strength comes from the food
eaten, and cannot possibly come from
any other source hence the only cure
for dyspepsia is eating. But how to eat
is the great practical question of this
age and nation for dyspepsia is a na
tional disease and a national sin, since
its one great cause is intemperance in
eating, excessive indulgence of the ap
petite, in conn ction with unwise habits
at the table.
A faithful servant may be able to do
a little work well when recovering from
a debilitating disease, but. in the con
scientious effort to perform an overtask,
it is not only not accomplished, but
none of it is well done. So a weak
som.ch may digest a little food weli,
get all the nourishment, all the strength
out of it, but if it has to work Up a I rge
meal, the work is badly done; and as
the blood is made out of the nourish
ment derived from the food eaten, if
that nourishment is imperfect, the
blood made out of it is imperfect, is bad,
and all know that 44 bad blood" is dis
ease. Nor is this the only trouble: the new
blood made from each meal taken is
mixed in a few hours afterwards with
the blood already in the system but if
this new blood is bad, it corrupts the
whole mass of blood in the body, makes
the whole mass of blood bad, diseased,
and carries disease and discomfort to
every fibre of the system hence the
ailments, the symptoms of which dys
peptics complain, are very numerous,
and extend to every part of the body
to hands, feet, head, heart, lungs, stom
ach, everywhere; for the hands burn
after meal-, "the feet are cold at all times,
the head aches, the heart palpitates, the
lungs :ire oppressed, and the stomach is
sick no one dyspeptic may have all
these at one time but all and many
others, in the progress of the disease,
may serve to make life a protracted mis
ery. The first great point then in the
cure of dyspepsia is to eat but I tile at a
time. And without going into detail as
to other measures to be taken, it is of
importance to add, that as the stomach
is weak in dyspepsia, in fact is the es
sence of the disease, the food given it
should not only bcsimdl in amount, but
it should be such as is most easily
worked up,, most easily converted into
blood: for from the blood all strength
comes. As the flesh of animals, fish,
poultiy, is nearer being flesh of our flesh
and bone of our bone than vegetables,
so meat is more easily worked up by the
stomach to impart nutriment to the
system and make good Mood than veget
ables; and as bread is the staff of life,
the main food of the dyspeptic should
be meat and bread; the most tender
meat, properly broiled, and well baked,
common wheat bread, several days old,
or, which is better, the whole product of
the grain made up with water only, and
a little salt, formed into thin, small
cakes, and baked quickly in a hot oven,
pan, or skillet, and eaten cold or hot.
As it requires about four hours for the
stomach to digest such a meal, it must
have rest after work, just as the hands
or feet require rest after their work
there should be at least five hours be
tween tho meals of dyspeptics, and not
an atom of anything should be eaten
between. As, therefore, there should
be at least five hours' interval between
meals for dyspeptics, and it is not neces
sary to eat at night, for then we are
asleep, it follows that we should eat not
oftener than thrice a day.
But it would be of little use to get the
nutriment out of the food and make it
into blood, unless it were conveyed to
every part of tho system, to reach every
fibre, so as to impart strength to limbs
and brain and stomach and lungs to
do this, exercise must be taken, for
without exercise tho blood begins to
stagnate in half an hour, gathers around
the heart, leaving the feet and hands
cold and the skin chilly and dyspep
tics are always chilly and easy to take
cold. And as every part of the system
of the dyspeptic is weak, it is important
that tho exercise taken Rhould be active
enough to send the blood to tho remot
est parts: ami as meals are taken three
times a day, the exercise should be tak
en three times a day. And as the blood
gets tho greater kpart of its life from
pure air, and as there is no pure air ex
cept that out-of-doors, the exercise of
the dyspeptic should bo in open air;
and as exercise U more exhilarating,
carries the mind more away from the
bedy and passes time more p!oaurably,
it. is ot great importance that the exer
cise should be agr eeable, should interest,
and even absorb the whole attention
and since, taking the world Us it is, the
most agreeable thing to the masses is
making money, that man will soonest
get well of dyspepsia who steadily fol
lows some out-door occupation which is
encouragingly remunerative. Hall's
Journal of Health.
Civilization is making some headway
Rmong the Indians. On many of the
reservations the courting of wives is now
carried on in the same way as among
the whites, the marriage ceremony is
performed beforo a missionary or an In
dian agent, and the wedding certificate
s taken, framed, and preserved care
fully. Only one wifo is allowed, and no
price is demanded by the parents or
given by the hmsband.
Hints for the Housewife.
Htmedy for Croup. A correspondent
of the Maine Farmer lays the following
is an effective remedy for croup: 44 Half
a teaspoonful of pulverized alum in a
little molasses. It is a simple remedy,
ono almost always at hand, and one
dose seldom fails to give relief. If it
should, repeat it after an hour."
Tea. A French chemist asserts that
if tea be ground like cott'eo before hot
water U poured upon it, it will yield
nearly double the amount of its ex
hilarating qualities.
Household Uses of Ammonia. Ammo
nia, or, as it is generally called, spirits of
hartshorn, is a powerful alkali, and dis
solves dirt and grease with ease. It has
lately been recommended very highly
for many domestic purposes. For wash
ing paint, put a teaspoonful in a quart
of moderately hot water, dip in a flan
nel cloth, and with this simply wash ofF
the wood-work no scrubbing will bo
necessary. For taking grease spots
from any fabric, use the ammonia nearly
pure, then lay white blotting-paper over
the spot, and iron it lightly. In wash
ing laces, put about twelve drops in a
pint of warm suds. To clean silver,
mix two teaspoonfuls of ammonia in a
quart of hot soap-sud?. Put in vmu
silverware ami wash it, using an old
nail-brush or tooth-brush for tho pur
pose. For cleaning hair-brushes, etc.,
simply shake tho brush up and down
in a mixture of one teaspoonful of am
monia to one pint of hot water when
they are cleansed, rinse them in cold
water, and stand them in the wind or
in a hot lace to dry. For washing
finger marks from looking-glasses or
windows, put a few drops of ammonia
on a moist rag, and make quick work
of it. If you wish your house plants to
flourish, put a few drops of the spirits
in every pint of water used in watering.
A teaspoonful in a basin of cold water
will add much to the refreshing effects
of a bath. Nothing is better than am
monia water for cleaning the hair. In
every ease rinse off the ammonia with
clear water. To which we would only
add, that, for removing grease spots, a
mixture of equal parts of ammonia and
alcohol is better than alcohol alone;
and far taking out the red stains pro
duced by strong acids in blue ami black
clothes, thero is nothing better than
ammonia.
Hiked Beans. Take fcmall white
beans, put to soak at 0 p. m., in a deep
vessel change tho water late in the
evening, and again early next morning,
and parboil for two hours, changing the
water at the end of the second hour.
Then pour off nearly all the water;
take raw pork scored on top put the
beans in a deep dish, the pork in the.
middle, sinking it so as to have it just
level with the surface. Add a very lit
tle molasses, and bake at least six
hours, raising the pork toward the last
so that it may crisp on top.
Graham Crackers. Wet the be.t Gra
ham flour with cold milk, adding about
a fifth portion of thick cream, or a little
butter if cream is not to be Irad. Mix
as soft as can be handled kne ad very
thoroughly,' s:iy fifteen or twenty min
utes; roll thin cut in three ineh sqirire
cards lay, o they will not touch each
other, on i hot sheet-iron pan, and bake
quickly, say ten til teen or twenty min
utes, according to thickness. Handle
carefully while hut, and pack away
when cold in cans or stone jars in a
cool, dry place.
Out Door Cellars.
A writer in the Practical Fanner, in
answer to the inquiry of a correspond
ent, gives tho following as his dan for
making out-door cellars, fwo of which
he had used for upwards of twelve
years, and ever found them sure depo
sitories for fruits and vegetables in win
ter, and for milk, butter, etc., in sum
mer: In the first dace, 1 selected tho most
elevated spot of ground conveniently
near to my dwelling house, measured
off the ground, the size I desired my
cellar, threw out the dirt to the depth
of two feet. Commenced a double brick
wall at the base of the excavation, leav
ing a vacant space of six inches between
the walls, which were tied at the corners
and several places in the sides, being
careful, however, to leave vacant laces
or vent holes, to admit a free circulation
of air throughout the length and breadth
of the walls. The height of the walls
when completed, nine feet from base to
top. The surplus dirt, banked up, on
outside four feet in height. Floor over
head, two thicknesses of well seasoned,
matched flooring, and the whole cover
ed with good pine shingles; double
doors and windows, with a flue extend
ing upwards and at the top of the build
ing, to allow impure air to escape, com
pleted my buildings all but plastering.
For this I used or rather put on, two
coats of cement, coating the entire floor,
extending up six feet on the walls for
balance of walls nnd overhead I used
lime and sand. The last one construct
ed leaked or rather let in some water,
owing to the wet nature of the ground
where it stands, and I run a pipe
through it and extended the drain to a
ravine not far distant.
Offended Dignity. The Democracy
have had a clear working majority in
Illinois, for a number of years.
But when the Fifteenth Amendment
went into effect it enfranchised so
many of our 44 culled bredren" as to
make it apparent to tho party leaders
that, unless a good many black votes
could be bought up, the Republicans
would carry the city election. Accord
ingly advances were mado to the ltev.
Brother whoso influence it was
thought desirable to secure, inasmuch
as he Was certain to control the votes of
his church.
Ho was found "open to conviction,"
and arrangements progressed satisfacto
rily until it was asked how much money
would bo necessary to secure his vote
and influence.
With an air of offended dignity
Brother replied
44 Now, gemmen, as a regular awdained
minister ob de Baptist Church, dis ting
has gone jes as far as my conscience will
Mow; but, gemmen, my son will call round
to see you in de morning Harper's Maga
zine. Latest extract from 44 What I Know
About Farming:" Crtch your butter
flies late in AugU9tj select the deer
yellow ones if you would get god,
sweet, saleable butter.
How Denny Dunhcou Stood on the
Burning Deck."
Whllo the great fire was at its high
est in the South Division, the Court
House bell kept tolling its notes of
dread warning to tho citizens. Several
citizens were on tho cupola of the build
ing just before it got enveloped in its
fatal garments of flame. Among those
who wero tho last to dcicond from that
dangerous elevation were Supervisor
Worthington, United States (Jauger
Fitzgibbon, and the two watchmen,
Hans Schaflher and Denny Dunheen.
The latter named pers-nage is a tall
Irishman from CJarryowcn, and served
in tho war in Tim. O'Meara's regiment,
the 90th Illinois volunteers. At Mis
sionary Hidge, Denny received a South
ern ball through his right leg, which
spoiled his fair proportions and render
ed him lame for life. After getting out
of hospital he was invalided, and, re
turning to Chicago, he was appointed
one of tho Court House watchmen,
which position he held as long as the
building lasted. Denny is a character
in his way, and is gifted with a very
beautiful brogue. The fire was growing
pretty hot, some of the largo brands
were falling on tho cupola, and most of
the "watchers on the tower" Ixgan to
gro-v ii -rvou-i. Not so with Denny; his
blood was up, and, beside, he had. been
to see a man very sightly.
Sup. Worthington 44 Tell you what,
Denny, it 's gettirg warm 'round
here."
Denny "Blood an' ouns, man, I've
been in forty battles, an' I ain't going
to run fiom a few sparks."
Mr. Fitzgibbon 44 These ain't sparks,
Denny, they're regular firebrands."
Denny Divil may care, afanva I
44 The bye stud an the burnin' deck"
sure I'm the bye, you see."
Worthington 44 Oh, drop your non
sense, Denny; you'll get masted where
you stand."
Denny 44 Then I'll need no brogues
for the winter get you down if you
want to. 44 The stands on the burnin'
deck,' begarl"
Fitzgibbon 44 Why the tower is be
ginning to burn come now, Denny,
move your lame leg down that stair
wev, quick."
Denny 44 Arrah, howld yer tonguo;
ain't it a purty sight entirely I It looks
like the day av judgment, God betune
us an' harm. Maybe it is. Divil a mat
ter, any way The b,e sticks to the
burnin' deck uv hell itself was loose
around him."
By this time things began to look
dangcrou-, so the Supervisor, the guag
er and the other w ilchman seized hold
of Denny bodily an compelled him to
abandon his 44 burnin' deck" like any
ordinary mortal. Chiwo Post.
Staining Marble Yellow.
Inquiry was rec ntly made by a tech
nical society in P. ussia for a treatment
of white marble that would impart to
it a permanent uniform yellow eolor,
equal to that ot antique marble, and
one that could to made dark or light
at will, penetrating at least one-twelfth
of an inch into tho .stone, but not af
fecting its chemical character. 01 the
several solutions ottered, that of Pro
fessor Weber seem j to havo been the
most satisfactory, and is based upon tho
fact, hitherto not brought to practical
application, that solutions of iron salts
in strong alcohol aio not decomposed
by carbonate jf lime; whilJ, on tho
other hand, the aqueous solutions of
the same salts are readily decomposed
by the lime. Another important con
sideration is the fact that alcohol is
more easily taken up by marble than
water, and that tho tendency to absorje
tion may be increased very greatly by
heating the marble to a certain temper
ature. If, then, the alcoholic solution
referred to bo applied to the dried mar
ble, and this subsequently moistened
with water, the oxide of iron that has
penetrated the material of the stone is
decomposed by the carbonate of lime,
and is separated in tho form of a finely
divided oxide, not separablo from the
particles of marble.
In the practical application of the
principles just enumerated a new chlo
ride of iron is to be. first dissolved in
ninety per cent, alcohol, and, after gen
tly heating the marble to bo colored in
an oven, or over ii fire, the solution in
question is to be applied by means of a
brush, a sprinkler, or by some ether
similar apparatus, or even by pouring
the solution over it. It will, of course,
be undci stood that the strength of the
solution is to be proportioned to tho
depth of the color desired, and care
must be taken also in regard to the do
gree of temperature. For the produc
tion of light tints it is considered ref
erable to apply very diluted solutions
repeatedly. When the marble is per
fectly dry it is to be moistened with
water or exposed to moid air, when the
decomposition of the salt of iron re
ferred to takes place in the upper
strata, and the process of coloration is
complete. The surface can then be
polished, or, if already polished, it may
be simply rubbed off with a wet cloth.
No injurious effect upon the polish or
hardness of the stone i produced by
this operation.
Our space does not permit us to give
other applications of this process, which
can, it is said, be modified so as to pro
duce various shades of color, and prom
ises to be of great valuo in imparting to
ordinary marble the appearance of cer
tain rare ami costly kinds.
Post and Parsons.- Tho following
fresh trifle from an Knglish party is not
bad: t
I was one morning overtaken by an
active, hale old fellow, who had been
a soldier and seen a great deal of ser
vice, but at that time was a river barge
man. In our journey we passed a rib
recting post, with arms in good condi
tion and containing full information.
Do Ve know what that is?" said my
com pan. on.
44 A directing post, of course.
44 1 call 't a passon."
"A parson I Why?"
"Cause 'ee tel'th the way, but dothn't
go."
Before we separated we passed a sec
ond post, which was very dilapidated,
and had lost its arms.
44 If the p03t wo saw just now woro a
parson," said I, 44 what's this one?"
44 Oh, he's n, bishop."
Kxplain."
44 He neither tell'th nor go'th." Har
per's Magazine.