Lititz Record

              »ÜWäS'.MES
THE LITITZ RECORD
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AT REASONABLE KATES. YOL. Y. LITITZ, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, APRIL 28.1882. NO. 34.
THE LITITZ RECORD
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One-fourth column, six months 15.00
One-fourth column, one year. 2B.W
Local notioes will be charged at the rate of eight
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THE S. B. COX
CARRIAGE
Are thoroughly reliable and combine in the highest degree,
all the points sought by the
C A R R I A G E O W t l E R ,
Conscientious care and skill in the selection and use of best
material.
System—Energy—Push,
And the most complete factory facilities in the State have
put the
S. B . C O X CARRIAGES,
Away ahead of all others.
3 3 5 , 3 3 7 , 3 3 9 a n d 3 4 1 C l m r c l i S t r e e t ,
LANCASTER, PA.
mm FURNITURE WARERÖOMS.
If you are In need of F u r n i t u r e , call a t t h e LITITZ FURNITURE "WAREROOMS, a n d be
convinced t h a t you can purchase as cheap there as a n y place else. Call and see for yourself.
UNDERTAKING
In all Its branches i n tovfti o r country promptly attended to. Am prepared with Crump's
Patent Corpse Preserver, w h i c h isoneof t h e best ever invented. The body remains perfectly
dry in it.
Also Hearse, Coffin Stools, Chairs, Chin Supports and anything p e r t a i n i n g to t h e business.
Have had years of experience in this-business, a n d ready when m y services are needed, at
reasonable prices.
W . SC. ZEZEnTCIEC,
s9-ly MAIN ST., LITITZ, PA.
J>EADY MADE HARNESS,
LIGHT AND HEAVY,
THE LARGEST ASSORTMENT I I TOWN, NOW ON HAND AT
Z M I - A J U n T S T R E E T , L I T I T Z ,
at L o w e s t Prices. Also W h i p s , Lap Covers, &e. Call a n d be
c o n v i n c e d .
HEADQUARTERS FOR
—AT—
45 North QUEEN" Street, Lancaster, Pa.
E V E R Y B O D Y
In need of FURNITURE should give us a call. Great bargains O f f e r e d .
Goods sold at lower prices than ever before known. We ha?e a large
stock from which to-make selections, and guarantee to give satisfaction
to all our patrons, who are cordially invited to call and see for them-selves.
No trouble to show goods. Buying direct from the manufac-turers,
we are enabled to sell at bottom prices.
ja9 J. M. KEIPEB
R O B E R T N. W O L L E ,
MAIN Street, LITITZ, Pa.
HARDWARE, ,
QUEENSWARE,
STONE WARE,
CEDAR WARE,
STATIONERY,
GROCERIES.
DRY GOODS,
PAINTS,
LINSEED OIL,
GLASS,
OIL CLOTHS,
CARPETS,
Headquarters for Harrison's White Lead and Ready Mixed Paints, all colors.
We are prepared to sell Carpets from one of the largest Carpet houses in th«
country, by means of the wonderful Carpet Exhibitor, which we invite our
friends and neighbors to come and see.
GILL'S CITY GALLERY0" PHOTOGRAPHY,
NO. 19 EAST KING Street, LANCASTER, PA.
C o p y i n g O l d P i c t u r e s a S p e c i a l t y . . L a n d s c a p e H e w » , G r o u p s a n a U n t i t l -
i n g ' ! . P h o t o g r a p h y I n a l l i t s B r a n c h e s . oclB-l
LANCASTER PRICES AT THE
LITITZ DRUG STORE.
If you want a good piece ol
TOILET SOAP or
. SHAVING SOAP,
Go to the Drug Store. Also, Electric, Hair, Tooth
and Shaving Brushes.
Pocket Boons and Fancy Goods in great variety.
SHOULDER BRACES
for foots Ladies and Gentlemen. Leather covered,
Elastio, Electric, and Hard Bubber
T m s s o s
en hand at regular prices. A good flt guaranteed
or no sale.
Cork Shavings constantly on hand. Garden
Seeds the most reliable, at the
LITITZ DRUG STORE.
B. FRANK SLOUGH
Proprietor of
SOBKEL HORSE HOTEL,
49 and 51 WEST KING SRTEET,
IxANCASTEK, P A . ;
Excellent accommodations for both man and
eaat. apS-ly.
gTUKGIS HOUSE
Hotel and Restaurant.
This well-known House still continues to supply
tue public with ,
OYSTERS
AT THE LOWEST MARKET BATES,
at any time ol the day, delivered to any part ol
town free of charge.
OUR ELEGANT OYSTEK SOUP
served every Saturday night. It can't be beat.
Lager Beer and other Eefreshments
always fresh.
Returning thanks for many past favors, we hope
to receive your patronage in the fatare.
EDWARD S. STURGIS,
n25 Proprietor.
A- B. REIDENBACH,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
SURVEYOR AND CONVEYANCER,
LITITZ, PA.
I am now prepared to do Surveying and Con-veyancing
In all Its form. Papers careiullj
and neatly drawn.
CLE! KING OF SALES, REAL AND PERSONA!«
Houses to Rent and for Sale.
Also,
A g e n t f o r F i r s t . C l a s s I . l f e a n d F i r
l u n u r a j u c e C o m p a n i e s.
LUX DO WW THIi BÄKS.
" Oe', b»s 1" " 00', bos 1" her sweet vol®«
As slowly twinklsd ant the stars;
And then she called me by my name,
And softly said, "Let down the bara!"
While "Whitney" and the brindle cow
Crept slswly homeward through the lane,
It same about, I scarce know how,
>Ve shyly managed to remain.
Uor Seeded the neglected kine
That irom our vision passed away, '
If she were mine, aad only mine,
What matter though the world should stray?
Somehow, I took her dimpled hand,
Aad gazed into her eyes so bright;
The darkness gathered o'er the land,
But suddeffglory filled the night.
" Oo', boss I co', boss I" her sweet voice calls,
Remembering they have gone astray,
My arm around her slowly falls,
As homeward we retrace our way.
Eow strange it seemed! The brow of night
Was gemmed and spangled o'sr with stars;
Whether it were or were not right,
Tw&t there say heart let down the bars.
SHADOWS ON T H E WALL.
table, the two or three hard chairs,
Turning slightly for & fuller* view, he
catches a glimpse through a half open
door of an inner room, comfortably al-though
still plainly furnished. He
draws a breath of relief. That inner
room is a strong contrast to the beauti-ful
.home which had once seemed so
aptly to surround her ; but still, he is
relieved to think her days are not all
spent in this bareness.
And then his gaze goes back to her.
While he looked into her face, he was
not able to heed her dress or her sur-roundings
; but now he sees that the
deep mourning she wears is of tlie very
cheapest, although fresh as if recently
put on. His heart is stirred witMn him
at the sight. He says in a low voice;
"Your fatiier:
"Diedthree weeks ago."
This she answers, not uncovering her
''Come In.
She gives the permission to enter, in
a low, hurried voice, looking up from
her open writing-desk upon the table,
across *whieh her arms is laid. Then* is
a newspaper laid there, too—the folded
page blistered as with tears. "Died at
Summerfield——." But those tears
dried, and there are none now in the
weary eyes that lift themselves from
the blotted line,and turn wistfully upon
the opening door.
'•You have a letter for me Sianey?"
"P»l ease, Miss Gray, it's some one
But the slip-shod little maid-of-all-work
is out short in her speeoh by that
»osae one from behind putting her gen-tly
aside from the door and shutting it
apon her, as he entered. Some one—
a man, who has removed his hat in
coming forward, and on whose face the
lamplight falls, as he stands on the
hearth-rug opposite Miss Gray.
»Bessy "
His face is full of eager life, but she
is looking up at him as if he saw a
ghost. Her hand shakes so, resting on
the paper, that the rustling draws his
eyes to it. He comes a step nearer and
puts his hand down firmly on hers, as
ke glances at the lines just above.
" 'Died at Summerfield'—Bessy, do
you take me for a ghost ?"
She cannot speak. The color is steal-ing
baek into her lips, and they trem-ble
apart, but no words come. He
says, trying to speak lightly,, for her
face alarms Mm :
Ton did not know that there were
two of the name. ther's howse at
Summerfield seemed to fix it on me.
It was my cousin, John Hesketh. Poor
fellow, death was such a happy release
to him. from his wearisome illness, that
ke would not grudge its h a v i n g brought
me some good. It was your letter of
condol«22ce to Mrs. Hesketh, Bessy,
which showed me where to find you,
after all these weary years."
The color has died out of her fac® as
suddenly as it flashed into it. The
fluttering hand under his is drawn away,
and folds itself with the other, tightly,
OH the edge ©f the desk.
"You left Mrs. Hesketh very well,
I kopo."
"Well, that is hardly to be expected
of a young widow, Bessy."
"I—I do not understand——"
"That you were aa mistaken in the
marriage as in the death. How could
yon be, Bessy?"
She i» Quivering from head to foot,
flushing and quivering, as she says,
brokenly :
"How should I not be? Some one
sent me a paper long ago, with the mar-riage
at Summerfield marked in it.
How could I know ? And when I read
the name in the paper agains last week
a
•'You wrote your little letter to that
imaginary wife of mine, telling her that
you had known me years ago, and that
seeing the name, you were »0 grieved
for her, and could not refrain, though
A stranger to her, from telling her BO.
It was a sweet little letter ; she, poor
little widow, showed it to me, and was
not quite pleased with me that I took it
away from her. 1 have it here. Bes-sy,
If I read between the lines "'
She catches her breath.
" I wrote nothing she might not have
read if she had been your wife."
"Between the lines, I said, Bessy.
From them she would never have
guessed what the old friendship meant.
But I remember it was no friendship; it
was love."
He says the word with his touch upon
ker hands again. But she shakes it off;
she has risen to her feet, her grasp
upon the back of her chair, steadying
her.
"If it were," she says, hurriedly,
"you never said i t so plainly then, that
you need repeat it now."
"You cannot doubt I mean it. You
knew I was coming baek. And . in the
meantime, your father and you both
suddenly removed, leaving no trace—
Bessy," with a quick light breaking
upon him, "it was in that same summer
that my cousin John Hesketh married ;
could that have had anything to do
with "
"Myhiding myself?" she supplies,
quietly. "Nothing."
Hesketli'a face changes as he looks
searohingly at her. But he can see
hers no longer. She has sunk down
again in her chair, her elbows on the
table, her head bent in her hands. He
waits a moment for her to speak, to
move; when she does not, he draws
back a little, and resting Ms arm oa the
mantel, glances round him.
It is a poor place enough; the lodg-ing-
house exterior, and the slip-shod
m&id-of-all-work on the stairs, had not
led him to expect much. But yet he
had not looked for such bare poverty as
this—the uncarpeted floor, the small
He says, after another pause :
"And you removed here afterward ?"
"No. Long, long ago. When first
we left the dear old home. The room
in there was his ; he was never able to
leave it after I first brought him here,
until he left it for his grave."-
"And this was your room, Bessy ?"
She understands him. She looks up
with a faint, wan smile. "What mat-ters
?" He never knew what it was
like; and could cushions and carpets
and sofas make life any easier to me ?"
"My love could have made it easier—
can make it, if.you will have it."
She has tried to interrupt him with a
hurried gesture; but he will not be in-terrupted.
Then he adds :
" I came to-night to gay it. I would
have said it years ago if you had not
lost yourself to me."
"Lost—yes; but not I. John Hes-keth,
you do not know—.—There, why
should I say more ?'' It is so long ago
since i was lost to you, you cannot care
much now. Bo we will part to-night
"We will not, Bessy." He says it
resolutely, drawing Lor hands away
now, holding them fast in his own. For
he cannot be mistaken ; there is a look
in her eyes tells him how hard to her
would be the parting—as hard, perhaps,
aa to himself. "We will not part."
She yields to him in so far that she
does not free herself when he draws
her to him. But then she turns her
sad eyes on him,"
' "John, will you make it harder for me?
Let me go in silence—I have kept it all
these years."
"You should not, if I had known
where to find you, my darling."
" I do not know, I think I should
have kept it, even if I had not heard of
your marriage just before,"
"Keep silence still then, Bessy. You
are speaking in riddles ; but it is not
their answers I have come for. I have
come for the answer to just one ques-tion1
: Bessy, do you love me ?"
A faint smile crosses her fac.;, but
does not lighten its sadness. She says,
softly :
"If you care to hear it—yes. Stay.
—" her sudden movement disengages
her from him. "I love you, and I will
not marry you. I would rather yoa
would not ask m© why."
"You require too much of me," he
interrupts her hoarsely. "You tell me
that you mean to spoil my life and
yours, and that I am to take it on faith
that you are right. I will not take it
on faith. I tell you plainly, you must
prove to me that you are right, or I
will never give you up."
Again that wan smile crosses her lips,
but does not touch the shadow in her
eyes.
'I will prove it to you, then. It is
easily done now. If you had come a
month ago I might not have spoken.
But now, that he rests in the grave, I
may tell you that I am Richard Lestre,
the swindler's daughter. It has been
along time since he was convicte d, and
served out his term of punishment; but
perhaps, not so long, that in your boy-hood
you have not heard his name."
He has ; she sees it in his face. She
on: "I heard it for the first time
when the paralytic stroke came, which
impaired his memory ; so that he went
back to the years before he came to
this country,under the name you know
him by. When I heard it, you will un-derstand
my one aim and end in life
was to pay back the people he had ruin-ed
in the old life—to pay them back
out of the fortane he had amassed in
the new ; I know he meant • to do it.
So much I have gathered from his
rambling speech from time to time.
The sum is nearly cleared of now, and
my poor father—bat I will not speak of
him ; I cannot expect you to feel with
me there."
"Do I not?" He has come to her—
he has« drawn both her hands in his.
"And this is what you would have part
us, Bessy ? I cannot bear your burden ?
—you must suffer alone ?"
She raises her head quickly.
" I do not refuse your pity, John; I
take it gratefully. But I will not 'have
it in the stead of love. And that you
should love my father's daughter "
"I, who loved your father, Bessy ?"
"John—John "
He draws the sobbing woman closesr
to him.
"We will not make light of the sin,
my dear one, but neither will we of the
repentance. And, Bessy, remember
this; if you withhold yourself from me
you will withhold the one thing I have
looked for and longed and waited for
every day of all these years since we
two parted." * * * * *
I am still sitting in my window, where
my opposite neighbor in that low room
next the roof of the lodging-house
across the street, comes to her window
and draws down the blind. And I see
no more shadows hovering about upon
the wall. They are only shadows, after
all, that I have seen, out of which I
have b®en weaving the story of my pale
little opposite neighbor. I often see
hers thrown upon the wall there, for
an evening hour when she has forgot-ten
to draw down her blind-—thrown
quite alone there, until night. Have
my shadows any substance after all ? I
only know that the paralytic old man
about whom seemed to hang a mys-tery,
was carried out in his coffin
not long ago, and I hope—I hope the
pretty, mournful face over the way is
not to dwell in shadows all its life.
Ncrve-Moscolar Expression.
All expression of feeling is affected by
muscular action, whether it be bywords
by facial movement or gesture, move-ments
effected by voluntary muscles: or
expression may be produced by diala-tion
of the pupil, erection of the hair,or
disturbed aation of the heart, those be-ing
due to the condition of inorganic
muscular fibres. I have been accust-omed
to regard the nerve muscular
condition of "nervous cases," when
seeking definite signs by which- to de-scribe
them,in the light of the principle
that movements depend upon nerve
muscular stimuli originating in nerve-centres.
Examples may easily be given
showing how we commonly judge of the
state of the nervous system by muscular
conditions. Note the stooping attitude
and spiritless gait of a tired man as com-pared
with that of the same individual
when rested, and refreshed. Incipient
intoxication is indicated by a reeling
gait, unsteady hand, and muscular tre-mor.
Expression may be indicated by
the position of the head, which is seen
firmly upright in defiance, drooping in
shame; is commonly held on one side in
nervous Woman and girl» convalescent
from chorea, the first example cited of
an asymmarical gesture. The artist's
brush or pencil, the sculptor's modeling
tool and chisel, the pianist's of violinist's
finger touch, indicate the training and
actual condition of the working of his
brain. The educated and refined sing-er
trains and refins his whole mind, i. e.
his brain, and is well ^ware that his
"whole soul," as he may express it,
comes out in the action of the muscles
concerned in producing his song and
musical notes. In the infant, the con-dition
of the nervous system is best re-corded
in terms of nerve-muscular
phenomena. It laughs and is playful;
reflex action is • well marked when a
finger is placed in the child's mouth.
The eyes are move l a n d directed toward
an object loóKed at; these are conditions
of healthy action. - It is well known
that in the convulsive state the fists are
often closed, with the thumbs turned
in; All these examples of expression
are nerve-muscuiar conditions; the
movement, the attitude, the gait, result
from states of the brain or spinal cord.
U11 eia Dai» Bisa.
A vaiauchcs.
The Bodie, Colorado Free Press says
no alarm was felt by the inhabitants
mtil about i.30 o'clock on March
the 15th, when the first avalanche
turned loose an 800-foot precipice »ear
the top of Mount Scowden, which rises
to a height of 2,500 feet between and at
the confluence of Lake and Mill Creek
Canyons, overlooking the southern sec-tion
of the town of Lundy. This body
of loose, dry snow dropped about 800
feet, where it struck upon a bench of
the mountain, bounded out upon the
air compressed beneath it, sailed over
the tops of the tallest pines ana came
down, vertically, 1,500 feet from its last
point of contact with the earth. This
demolished the residencesof and buried
Mr. and Mrs. Winters, on the north side
of Chicago avenue: Mr. and Mrs Mayes
and their three little girls, and a man
named Antone Silver and four French-men
on the south side of the avenue.
Thelast named party consisted of Joseph
Caron, George Changnon, August Dor-van
and August Duval. Caron and one
of the Mayes girls each saw the great
mass of SHOW descending. Caron called
to his companions that a snow-cloud
had burst above them, and the little
girl rushed into the house and told her
mother a cloud was falling. Stove-pipes
and chimney» were filled without
being broken, showing that the hard,
packed snow descended vertically, The
second avalanche was no small affair,
and was even more terrifying than the
first. It started from a cliff overhanging
the business centre of the town, where
no snow-slide has ever been known to
occur. Three-fourths of the population
were in the streets in the course of the
avalanche when it started and they
could not flee, as the snow was five feet
deep and soft. Fortunately the slide
struck on a broad and elongated rock
mound or bench projecting from the
mountain near its base and burst into a
cloud of spray, or rather the compact
snow was disintegrated and sent whirl-ing
with the velocity of fine shot from a
gun, the rush of air created by the aval-anehe
being sufficient to lift men from
their feet and knock them several steps
and to drive the fine snow into planks of
tbe building on the opposite side of the
street. An avalanche that shot down
Mount Discovery, on the west side of
Lake Canyon, on the same day huried
many persons, swept away cabins and
mining work, and covered the bodies of
some of its victims to a depth of forty-five
feet. On reaching the open moraine
an avalanche down Mount Giicrest
spread out, like a pigeon's tail, to a
width of nearly half a mile, and' rolled
down in a huge wall of snow 300 or 400
feet .high. In a space of one hour and a
half no less than nine ponderous aval-anches
were witnessed from the town,
some of them running clear across
Lake Lundy and one crossing the creek
below. •Forty-Hvo men, two women
and three little girls were buried by the
slides. Four men were killed and many
wounded.
Dan Rice, the famous clown,
the following story of his famous
of poker with Napoleon I I I : In
was a race rider on Long Island, N. Y.,
for John C. Stevens. Isaac Vanleer
was the trainer. After exercising Dos-oras,
a four-year-old, and giving Mm a
big sweat, he showed lameness. He
was entered for a post stake, a s
dash of two miles. Vanleer sent me on
horseback to New York with a letter to
Mr. Stevens, giving him full particu-lars
of the lameness, advising Ms with
drawal from the race. I arrived in
New York, dismounted in front of the
Hotel de Paris, located, I tMnk, at the
corner of Broadway and Leonard street,
inquired for aad was shown up to Mr
Stevens' private parlor, where I found
a party of the most distinguished gen-tlemen
in New York, siting around a
table playing a game of "draw." First
was the celebrated Duff Green of New
York, a great turfman ; Moccasin Jack-son
of New York, the owner of Buck
tail, the first great trotter ever taken,to
England; Harry Severn, said to be the
handsomest man in New York, and
owner of Oneida Chief, the fastest pac-ing
horse in the world of that day, or
since—I myself riding him a mile on
Long Island track in two minutes and
eight seconds; of coarse I was light
weight. He was a beautiful chestnut
sorrel 16 J hands high, blaze face, four
white legs. This was a trial race against
time ; his owner sould get no matches
in this country, so he sent him to Eng-land
with Bucktail, where he was sold
to Lord Elkton for a large sum. Then
came Billy Semon of Staten Island,
owner of Dustyfoot, a running horse
whom I afterward rode through the
western country, which gave me the
nickname "Dan Dustyfoot," by which I
was known in sporting circles. Next
the distinguished Walter Livingston of
Oyster Bay, L. I „ eminent for his
learning and love of the turf, and owner
of April Fool, whom I rode two-mile heats
on Long Island against Dosoras and
Aemilas,who in disposition and temper-ament,
was like his Greek namesake,
highly mettled and vicious. Next was
Col. Elliott, the owner of the running
mare, Betsy Ransom, a gentleman who
at that day oeoame somewhat notori-ous
because of a wager of $5.000, made
that he would marry th® celebrated
premiere danseuse, Mme Celeste, with-in
24 hours after being introduced to
ker. She made her appearance in Amer-ica
at the Bowery theatre, creating an
extraordinary furor as the queen of
terpsiehore. On her tMrd appearance
Elliott was introduced and won his bet.
She had a sklid by him, a daughter,
subsequently. I traveled a, short dis-tance
with them West. I remember
well several times of having the little
darling on my lap while th® mother was
on the stage. Elliott and she lived un-happily
together, because of his dissi.
pated habits. I saw that noble mother
for the last lime at Wheeling, W. Va.
I learned that the daughter, after being
thoroughly schooled and cultured, mar-ried
a most estimable gentleman in Bal-timore,
Md. Mr. Stevens arose from
the table when I handed him the letter,
and said, "Gentlemen, excuse me for a
short time. I have a matter of much
importance to attend to," and in a pleas-ant
manner remarked, "My boy, here)
will play my hand in my absence," he
knowing well that all race horse boys
could play cards. I wa® about to take
his chair, when he said, "allow me to
introduce you to my leading rider,"
each gentleman shaking hands, includ-ing
an odd looking, and, to me, an ec-centric
looking individual, whom they
called "Count Louis," who was a guest
of Mr. Stevens, The play went on. I
won three straight games ; it came my
deal, Count Louis drew from Mr. Ste-vens's
pile of checks,and "staked" a big
blind. I "put up" the cards while all
were laughing at the distinguished
Frenchman's bad English. .1 raked in
the pile just as Mr. Stevens returned,
handing me a large sized letter, when I
said: "Boss,I have increased your pile,
which I could have made still larger if
Dosoras had not got lame. This gen
tleman," pointing to Count Louis,''drew
0 worth of checks. "
"All right, my little man," said Mr.
Stevens, "it shall be yours."
Oui, oui, gareon, by'm by, I pay
you more as dat."
TMs was the refugee, afterward Na-poleon
III, emperor of France. He died
in my debt ¡ peace to his remains. Like
him, I too have found my Sedan.
Oddity In Matrlmonv.
There is no marriage service so odd
that some clergymen cannot be found to
perform i t ; nor are there any contract-ing
parties so queer or so illmated that
somebody will not be willing to join
fti'em. The latest oddity in matrimony
is that of a New York broker, who
claims to have married a "spirit bride."
For the nuptial ceremony he was so for-tunate
as to find a "spirit clergyman."
Where or how he picked up this ghost
of eocletiiasticism we know not, nor is it
stated whether he paid the wedding fee
in gold coin or in a "put," a "call" or a
straddle." Possibly it was in an "op-tion"
or a "future," depending on what
the bride proved to be in the way of a
help-meet. For a regular clergyman to
marry a "spirit bride" to a living bro-ker
wonld be an offense of which Pres-bytery
or Conference might reasonably
take notice with a view to discipline.
But not even the most litigious Presby-tery
could discipline the "spirit clergy-man.
" He would be spirited away while
the brethren were trying to catch him
in order to formulate charges against
him. There is no probability that
spirit matches and marriages will be-come
popular, even among brokers.
—The suinac busmess is quite aji im-portant
interest in Virginia. The pre-sent
production is 10,000 tons per year,
and the price is $45 per ton.
Tho leaves of the sumac tree »re ex
tensively used throughout Europe for
tanning purposes, and a large amount ef
care and attention is expended on the
eultivation of the tree in Italy, with con-siderable
profit to the planters. It
thrives best, in southern exposures and
hot temperaturce; its life is from twen-ty-
five to fifty years, according to the
condition of the ground, climate, and
culture. It spreads through shoots ris-ing
from the bottom of the tree and it is
for this reason that plants two or three
years old are selected for transplanting;
the price for which they are to be ob-tained
in Italy is 50 centimes per 100.
In preparing a sumac plantation,
ditches are dug in th© ground about three
feet three inches apart, with a breadth
and depth of about seventeen inches. In
stony ground the plant is set in holes,
the shoots are placed at a distance of
about three feet from each other, so that
every hectare (2| acres) will have 10,000
s. In digging the ditches, and more
especially the holes, great care is al-ways
taken to prevent water remaining
in the bottom, and when there are no
other means to provide against it the
ground is cut transversely. The tree
does not flourish in heavy or damp
ground especially wken the substratbm
is impermeable. The plantation is made
in December, and then, during the first
year, the ground is dug up from four to
six times, to preserve it from weeds,
manure is but sparingly used. The first
digging, which is the deepest, is made
in January, and the folio win« in March
May, June, August, and October. In
September of the first year the leaves
are stripped off -with the hands, a little
before their falling. It is better, how-ever,
not to touch the young bark, but
to allow them to fall off naturally. Young
trees are sometimes too quickly stripped
and damaged/while the crop of leaves
will bring, when sold, half the price of
that obtained in the following years, in
wMch the sumac ground is dug over
more frequently; this is done between
December and January, and March and
May, when the earth is heaped up round
the stem, at the time of the first digging,
and then smoothed down. In Sicily
they heap up the earth among plants,
cultivated as vines, to ventilate it by in-creasing
the surface through hills, to
make the running off of water easy, and
to facilitate the future transplanting«.
Usually, in collecting tbe crops secon-dary
branches are cut off, leaving only
the trunk of the tree for the new buds.
Some planters strip off the leaves by hand
in July, and lop the trees in December,
but this has the disadvantages of caus»
ing the new buds to grow too soft and
the leaves too flabby The branches are
either left in bundles on the ground for
two or three days, after which they are
carried to the thrashing floor; or they
are brought at once to the thrashing
floor, where, after two or three days,
according to the season, they are ready
for thrashing, aad are beaten with flails,
the twig is fairer and less torn, and ia
sold in bales, but when trodden out by
horses, it is crushed into minute parti-cles
before it is exposed for sale. When
long leaves are required for the bales,
the bales are thrashed early in the morn-ing,
before the haart of the day has
dried up the leaves; but for crushing,
the. operation must be done in the hot«
test hours, when the branches already
thrashed once ar© thrashed again.
Square linen sheets, six feet square, with
a ring in each corner," to pass a rope
through, are generally used for carrying
the driod branches and leaves to the
storehouse. The leaves for bales axe
carried to the storehouses, and the rest
to the mill, which is similar to that used
for olives. After being ground, the
large lumps are sifted out, and other
impurities thrown away, and the leaves,
if any, are ground again. In this work
the leaf loses a seventh part of its origi-nal
weight. The thrashing floor is al-ways
kept in good condition, paved and
covered with cement or bricks, and the
storehouse ia generally exposed to the
sun. When the sumac becomes old.
and its verdure scanty, another crop is
cultivated, and for this the vineyard is
especially adapted by the previous prep-aration.
Angus Macdonald was a farmer from
Chariotteburg, County of Glengarry
who arrived in Winnipeg a few days ago.
Angus, in his own estimation and in the
estimation of his friends, vras a shrewd
man. He was hardly in the place before
an old acquaintance of his ran up against
Mm, slapped him on the back in a friend
Iy way and said:
"I'm glad you've come up. I was just
going to send for yon." After their
greetings were over he continued: "By
the way, Angus, you own a farm out
near Minnedosa?"
"Yes."
"How much will you take for it?"
" I don't know," said Angus. "I
thought of settling on it myself."
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll
give vout#6.000 for it."
Angus thought before leaving Glen-garry
that if he got $2,000 for it he
would be doing well, but he was now in
the land of booms and so he asked for it
$6,500.
Well, here's $50 ©n the bargain and
we'll sign the papers to morrow." And
the purchaser rushed off.
Before two hours had passed* Angust
ran against another old acquaintance.
"Glad to see you Angus; glad you
came up. There's a splendid chance
for you. By the way, I see you regis-tered
as owning a farm near Minnedosa,
How much do you want for that farm?"
"I've just sold it," said Angas.
"How much did he give you?"
"Six thousand five hundred dollars."
"The dickens you did. Why, 111 give
you $15,000 for it. You go to the pur-chaser
and get Mm to release you and
I'll give you the $15,000.
Angus wished that ho was back in St.
Raphaels or anywhere else since he had
made such a fool of himself. However,
all he could do was to try and get the
farm back. So who does he run acress
within fifteen minutes but purchases'
No. 1.
Says Angus—"I'm sorry I sold you
my farm. I'd like to get it back. Here
is your $50, = and we'll be where we
were.
Oh, I can't do t h a i I bought the
farm, and will have the papers ready
to-morrow,"
After further higgling Angus offered
him $500 to break the bargain.
With great reluctance the first pur-chaser
takes the $500—100 new of tha
Bank of Montreal—and gave back to
Angus the temporary agreement of
Angus was happy again and set out to
find buj er No. 2.
He found him not. No. 1 and No. 3
were pal confidence men, Angus was
the sucker from Ontaria, and $450 was
the net amount that they stung him
for.
Ati Mint Karl,
White House Furniture.
Twenty-four wagon-loads of furniture
and other household articles taken from
the White House were sold at public
auction recently. The effects consisted
of the entire furniture of the East Room,
much of which was worn and motheaten,
as was" also the Green Room furniture.
A part only of the Red Parlor furnish-ings
were vended, and this was in better
condition. The carpets from tbe pri-vate
dining room and from the floor of
the long corridor in frent of the Red
Room were also sold.
Besides carpet and parlor sets there
were sold hair mattresses, maps, chan-deliers,
marble mantels, bureaus, bed-steads,
two high chairs for children,
ordered by Mr. Hayes on the occasion
of his wife's niece's wedding; marble-top
tables, leather-covered sofas, otto-mans
and dining room chairs, a lot of
white matting, a piaster chart of San
Domingo, cuspadors, lace curtains, lead
piping, old iron, stoves, etc.
A good sized geographical globe, once
the property of Nellie Grant, was eager-ly
looked upon and spiritedly bidden
for. Several rat traps were disposed of,
including the Mstorical one in wMch
the rat was caught that ate up President
Lincoln's suit of clothes. The sale re-alized
abont $6,000 and among the per-sons
in attendance were many from
other cities. A Baltimore merchant
bought the lace curtains of the parlor
and a Washington hotel-keeper obtained
the lambrequin curtains, while almost
everybody present succeeded in obtain-ing
some article, however valueless.
Connected with tke Earl of Dram!as
rig's residenee in Qoeensburg House
Edinburgh, against which the whola
fury and maledictions of the mobs were
directed at the time of the Union, there
is a tale of awful mystery and horror.
His eldest son, James, Earl of Drum-lanrig,
is simply stated in the old peer-ages
to have died young, it is now
proved, however, that he was an idiot
of the most wretched, kind, rabid and
gluttonous as a wild animal, and grew
to an enormous stature, as his leaden
and unornaiueated coffin ia the family
vault.at Durisdeer attests to this day.
TMs monstrous and unfortunate creat-ure
was always confined in a ground-floor
room of the western wing of
Queensberry House, »ad "till within
these few years the boards still remained
by which the windows of the dreadful
receptacle were darkened to prevent
the idiot from looking out or being
seen."
On the day the Treaty of tke Union was
passed ail. Edinburgh crowded to the
vicinity of the Parliment House to await
the issue of the final debate, and th«
whole household of the Duke—the Hi«h
Commissioner—went thither en mast*
for that purpose, and perhaps to prevent
him from being torn to pieces by the
exasperated people, and among them
went the valet whose duty it was to
watch and attend the Earl of Drumlan-rig.
Hearing all unusually still in the
vast house, the latter contrived to break
oat of his den, »ad roamed wildly irom
room to room, till certain savory ©dors
drew Mm into the great kitchen, where
a little turnspit sat quietly en a ¡stool
by the fire. He seized the boy, took
the meat from the fire, stripped and
spitted him, and he was fouad devour-ing
the half roasted boy when the duke
returned with his train from his politi-cal
triumph, to find dire horror awaiting
him. "The common people among
whom the dreadful tale soos spread, in
spite of tho Duke's endeavors to sup-press
it, said that it was a. judgement
upon Mm for his odious share in the
Union. The story runs that the Duke,
who had previously regarded his dread-ful
offspring with no eye of affection,
immediately ordered the creature to be
smothered. But this is a mistake as the
idiot is known to have died in England,
and to have survived his father many a
year, though he did not succeed him
upon his death, in 1711, when the titles
devolved upon Charles, a younger bro-ther."
The Queen of Slieba.
The Princess Maria of Behoa, who
was lately married to the crown prince
of Abyssinia, is said to be a direct de-scendant
of the queen of Slieba, the
Sehoa dynasty being the most ancient
royal house in existence. The princess
wore during the marriage ceremony a
golden diadem set with .rabies wMeh is
believed in that part of the world to
haye once been the property of Solo-mon.