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Knowersville enterprise. (Knowersville, N.Y.) 1884-1888, August 23, 1884, Image 1

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~r VOL. I. KNOWER8VILLE, K. Y., SATUlDAY, AUGUST 23, 1884. HO. 5. A FANTASY. I lie in a dreamless slsep While shadows over me creep; I am thrilled with a rapture deep As the drifting clouds pass by. I hear the rustle of leaves, The birds in the garnered sheaves, And the •wind that wearily grieves Through the stubble, brown and dry. I have never a thought of care; Forgotten the old despair, Too blest for even a prayer, \With clasped hands I lie. There is peace in the darkened room, There are lilies in perfect bloom, And the haunting, rare perfume Of jessamine floating by. No glance I backward cast; A seal is on the past, And the future, vague and vast, Beckons with bated breath. But the wind goes shuddering by: I hear a strong man's'sigh And a heart-sick child's low cry: Is it life, or is it death? —Sarah D. Hobart, in Lippincott. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. He came—the clay was dull and dead 3 The skies were cold and gray; The slanting rain beat on the pane ,•• And blurred the tossing bay, f But oh, so dear his tender tone, His smile so sweet to see, That in my heart the sunlight shone, And all was fail- to me. He's gone—the day is fresh and fair, The skies are warm and bright, The robin sings; the blithe bee wings O'er fragrant fields his flight, But dim and blurred through tearful eyes The sunlit bay I see; For on my heart a shadow lies -And all is dark to xne. — Walter Learned, in Manhattan. THE DOCTORS WAKD. \Marry Kitsie!\ Dr. Grealy cried, pushing back his chair and staring at his sister in amazement. \What in the world should any one want to marry Kifc- Bie for?\ \For a multitude of reasons,\ Miss Dora replied, with a pleasant little laugh. \You seem to forget, Jack, that she's not ft child any longer, and that half the Bligible young men in Ballycoyle are in Love, with her already.\ \That's not saying much,\ the doctor replied, grimly. \ There are only three men in the place that can afford to keep a, wife; but what you say about Captain Ohalloner fairly amazes me. Why—why, tie's very near as old as I am!\ \Even so, Jack; you're not quite a patriarch yet, you know. Just think for one moment—what brings the captain liere-day after day aud evening .after evening?\ \Well then, to tell you.the truth, Dolly, I rather flattered myself that he came to sec me and play cribbage with me,\ the doctor replied, looking gravely at his sister. \I did, upon my con- science !\ \Then you're a conceited old goose, \that's all I can say,\ Miss Dora replied, 'aughing heartily at her brother's evident imazement. \Frank Challoner comes lo see Kitsie.\ h Then he sha'n't sec her any more,\ the doctor cried, ringing the bell vio- lently. \Here Bridget, where's Miss Kitsie?\ he roared, as an elderly woman put her head in the door, holding the handle in her apron. ''Where would she be, sur, but up- stairs—fixin' herself for tay?\ Bridget re- plied, in fen aggrieved tone. She did not like being summoned from the kitchen for such a trifle. \Ihen go upstairs this moment, and toil her she's not to come down to night. No, wait a second—I'll go myself. Or you go, Dora.\ \Bless .an 1 'save us, miss, tho masther is taking lave of his «nses!\ Bridget ex- claimed, stiU clinging to the door-handle: and at that moment Kitsie came tripping down stairs singing gayly: \ tin! there's nothing half so sweet in life As Love's young dream!'\ \What do you know about love's young dream, miss?\ the doctor said, as the entered the room. \Nothing at all. Uncle Jack, but what the song says,\ Kitsie replied, looking at bim-fleuriously with a pair of the bluest eyes, shaded by the longest and most deli- ant black, curly lashes. '• \Nothing in the world yet; but,sure,I may be wiser some clay.-\ \Hum!\ the doctor growled, throwing a triumphant glance at his sister. \I'll take care you learn none of that nonsense yet awhile.\ \Miss Kitsie, jewel, will ye come here one minute?\ Bridget called from, the kitchen; and when they were alone Miss Dora stood by her brother's chair and looked at; him sadly. \I am sorry, Jack, that I said anything about Captain Challoner; but now that •we're broached the subject, we may as well look it fairly in the face. There is no doubt, whatever, but he admires Kit- sie—who could help that?—no doubt, either, it would be a fine thing for the child if he married her. He is rich, and 3. thorough gentleman—though not so Voung as I could wish, perhaps. If any- thing happened to you to-morrow, what •would become of Kitsie? While I had a crust she would share it, of course, and Bridget would wcrk her fingers to the bones for her: but it would be a poor prospect for a bright, merry, lovely young thing to be shut up in solitude and pov- erty with two heart-broken old women. Life at best is uncertain, Jack, and a doc- tor's more so than many people's, going, I gone? What a change would take plac in their happy home! How would Doro get on without her loving, constant com- panipn? How would he, Jack Grealy, bear th loss? It was so sudden and unex pccted that he had scarcely time b realize what iosinsr Kitsie meant to him- self. He would not think pf it. If thi: grave, handsome, wealthy suitpr couli win her, let him; ho woiild not stand ia her light. He had been everything t Kitsie for seventeen years—since he res cued her, a tiny baby, from the sea ai tho risk of his own life, and placed he: in his sister's arms. There had been a wreck off \ Old Man's Nose,\ and the only two person saved were a tiny, golden-haired baby a Hindoo woman—evidently her nurse— who died a day or two after. For seventeen years the child had made the sunshine of the doctor's home, the music of his life. She knew no other friends, was no even aware that she was their niscc in love only, and had no claim on eithe Uncle Jack or Aunt Dora; and now thi first stranger that came by would tak< her away. He or some other—lit was al the same, Jack muttered. He would have to lose her, and he might as well make the best of it. \I suppose you're right, Dolly,\ hi s-id, at length, turning to his sister \Challoner would be an excellent match for Kitsie. But I never even thought of such a thing, aud for the moracnfc\l was surprised. Of course, I must tell hit her history, the little there is of it,\ And then he left the room with the slow, unsteady step of a man but half awake. Miss Dora looked after him for a mo ment in pained surprise. It slowly dawned upon her that there was some thing wrong with Jack—something strange in bis face and voice and man- ner, and that somehow Eitsie was the cause of it. But she was a wise woman and knew when to be silent as well as when to speak, only she thought deeply and sadly of the trouble in Jack's honest gray eyes. After tea, Kitsie sat down t< the piano, and played over her uncle's favorite airs. \The Meeting of the Waters,\ \The Young Hay Moon,\ \The Coulin,\ and other plaintive, old Irish melodies. \Play something else, Kitsie,\ the doctor cried at last, \something new— something English. I'm tired of the old Irish airs, they're so melancholy. \Then I'll play yon something from 'Pinafore.' I know you like that.\ Kit- sie cried, merrily, and. the doctor smoth- ered an exclamation. He hated \Pina- fore\—hated it doubly at that moment for he remembered that Captain Chal- loner had given her the music. At that moment the captain himself was announced, and after a pleasant evening he r.ose to go at 10 o'clock, his usual time for saying good-night. But when the doctor accompanied him to the dppr he lingered fpr a moment, and then said he should like to.have half an hour's conversation. \The fact is, doc- tor, I have something serious to say to you, and as I am summoned to England on urgent business, I should tp say it be- fpre 1 go.\ \Come into the den,\ the doctor said, leading the way. He knew quite well what the captain was going to say and neved himself to bear it. '-You must have seen, doctor,\ he be- gan, \ that I admire your ni -ce, Miss Kitsie, very much. She is very beauti- ful, artless, and unaffected, and if I can succeed in winning your consent and hers, I should like to make her my wife. I am a rich man, and 1 do not think you will have any reason to fear for her fu- ture if you intrust her to me.\ \I believe that, captain, but I can't answer for Kitsie.\ the doctpr said a little huskily; \in'fact I have np legal right either tp give pr withheld my con- sent, as the child is no relative either by blopd or marriage, nor is she my ward in reality. I picked her up seventeen years ago, when a ship was wrecked off ' Old Man's Nose.' She has lived with my sis - ter and myself ever since, and is very dear to us both, but we have np right to influence her.\ \Still 1 am sure she will be guided by your wishes to a great extent; at least, she ought to be, seeing hpw good VPU. have been to her. At least, give me your consent to try and win her!\ \You have it,\ the doctor replied; \and if you do win her you will be the new and delightful world open to | her. But Kitsie listened in a dull, dized way; only a few of his words rung in her ears—\You are no relation to Doc- tor Grealy: you are alitte sea waif.\ At last she pushed him from her with both her trembling hands. \Go away, or I shall hate you!\ she cried, passionately. \You have robbed me of all I care about on earth: I will never see you. never speak to you again, Captain Challoner—never, never, never be your wife!\ And she rushed past him and into her Dncle Jack's study, leaving him to find his way out of the house as best he could. An hour later the doctor returned. Was that white-faced, trembling little NETVS AND NOTES FOE WOMEN, Rod hose are worn with dresses of al- most any color. Married ladies frequently wear black lace over shot silks of light colors. Drosses are much less draped this sea- son than they have been, for manv seasons bast. _ French modistes are using more mate- rials of red and yellow thanjof any other color. Alligators' teeth set as pins are used for holding the corsage Douquet this season. Between the ages of fifteen and forty^ five a woman can grow about seven crops of hair. Almost all petticoats to wool dresses form looking up at him with such mute j »re lined with canvass to give them con- appealing misery his blithe, bonoie '\\\\ Kitsie? \My pet, what is it?\ he cried, strok- ing her hair tenderly. \Come tell me all about it.\ With many sobs and tears, Kitsie told her story; how Captain Challoner wanted to marry her and take her away, and, worst of all, said that she did not belong to Uncle Jack and Aunt Dora. \As if I could ever leave you!\ she cried, piteously. \Oh tell me it was a cruel, wicked story, and that I am your very own Kitsie—tell me, Uncle Jack!\ \My pot, it's true we saved you, but you belong to us all the more on that ac^ count, and you shall never leave us, dear —never, till yen wish tp go. Come now, dry your eyes before your aunt comes home, and forget all about Captain Chal- loner.\ But Kitsie, once set thinking, could sistency. White and colored mull pokes, with Valenciennes lace ruches, are pretty for girls' hats. White flannel suits should never be laundered; when soiled they should be sent to be dry cleansed. A.black satin basque waist has a mus- lin front of black and yellow striped satin and yelloWlace sleeves. . Spencer waists with shired yokes ntak a pretty change from those with plaits, and are rather mpre dressy. Some new silk stockings have stripes running up and down; those in black and white are most fashionable. Bows of rosette shape now figure on many of the French models as decoration for kilted and flounced petticoats. -^ TOU ^,^^ B , - wutu . .. Generarwallace says that although he not forget so easily. She fretted and j llV(:d lfl T \rk.ey three years he sever worried herself into'a serious illness, and 1 s P oko to a Tul \kish woman during that then Aliss Dora had to take her away for e- 1 \ •\ * - - - Tunics With full blouse bodices of red Adrianople are worn with two toned gray pr beige skirts of glaee ba- MOIACO'S GAMBLING A TnVEOfS\ DSiWH FICTUBE OP A GBEAT EVIL. a change, she grew so thin and pale, But after the first few Weeks Kitsie seemed no bettor, and one day, when the doctor came to sec her, he resolved to find out what was the matter. \ Kitsie, what is it?\ he whispered, taking both her hands, and kneeling My darling, can't you trust you tell me what troubles beside her. me? Can't you?\ \I don't know,\ she replied, hiding her face on his shoulder. \But I must know, or I shall so mad. Kitsie, you are not fretting for Frank Challoner, are you? Tell me the truth, darling.\ \ Jack!\ Only One little woi-d; but it was enough, in another moment the doctor had taken her into his arms, and into his heart forever, and little Kilsie's Worst troubles were ended. When they returned to Ballycoyle a wonderful surprise awaited them. Kitsie was no longer a sea-waif, but a wealthy heiress. Her friends at last had discov- ered her. She had sailed with her father, mother and nurse from Calcutta, and their vessel had been wrecked. They were rescued by the brig that went to pieces on \Old Man's Nose,\ and only Kitsie and her nurse and two sailors picked up at sea escaped. They,, however proved that a gentleman and lady and little girl had been on board their brig; and several other circumstances proved that Kitsie was indeed the long-lost daughter of a wealthy gentleman, whose fortune on his death went to his brother, and from him to his nephew, Captain Challoner, his sister's son. When Kitsie was discovered, the captain honorably gave up the fortune, but neither she nor the doctor would consent to taking all: half was more than sufficient for their wants, for they declare they shall con- tinue to live all their lives in Ballycoyle, only paying an occasional visit to Kitsie's English home. Queen Cow. tuaate. She has a beautiful nature, a sweet temper, a loving heart. Kitsie is largely endowed with good qualities, and she is very lovely! : Captain Challoner fully indorsed the do, ia the way of illness every day. Wouldn't it be a comfort t:> you to know that Kitsie was well provided for and happy?\ The doctor sat for fully five minutes, gnawing his mustache somewhat savage- ly; then he took two or three turns up and down the dining-room, and stood looking out of the window for a minute. The prospect was a pleasant one—a strip of smooth emerald lawn, the white road leading to the village, and beyond list of perfections, though he could not help asking himself -what some of his aristocratic relatives and friends- would say to his marrying a nameless sea Waif, brought up by a-poor dispensary doctor in a remote little Irish\ village. He thought it best not to inquire too mi- nutely into the circumstanceof her rescue, better take her just as she was, Dr. Grea- ly's niece, than discover that she be- longed to some one more objectipnable. He resolved to discover the state of Kit- sie's feelings the very next da;?wthough. he had not very many doubts or fears on the subject, she was always so glad to see him, and enjoyed his society so much— and that he would return to London and see what the very urgent business, was that his lawyer had written about. About 2 o'clock he called at the cottage with the intention, of asking Kitsie to accompany him for a walk on. the beach. He found her alone, curled, up. in an easy-chair, having what she called a good read. Her uncle had gone to see a patient ten her auiit on a shopping Miltown. The captain mile's off, and expedition to thought he might as well speak then and there as anywhere else. For a_ long time Kitsie did not under^ stand him, and when she did she glanced „ M -. J3 1 £.T_ J?_ ? _ 1 i - \v * * frightened eyes, seeking around with some means of escape. \Oh na, no, please, Captain Chair loner! I never thought of such a thing!\ she-cried, entreatingly. \But you can try and think of it now, dearest,\ he said, holding her hands gently. \I can'fc—I won't! Please let me go!\ she sobbed. But he detained her, pleaded his the beautiful blue sea and the white cliffs cause with gentle insistence—told her of Baliycoyle. For seventeen years he had associated Kitsie with the f ea, the cliffs, the lawn the pretty xspttage. How would it all look when she was that he knew her history, and pointed out that it was her duty to relieve Doc- tor Grealy of his trouble and expense as sppn as she could; then he tpld her of his wealth,, his home, his friends^-of A few years agp many people stood ready to claim that cotton was* king, in- deed there are many gasping slaves to- day who claim the same thing. Statis- tics are abundant by means of which ibis claim can be, in a part substantia- ;ed, but a very few people seem desirous if claiming that king cotton ever did mich to improve society, education, or jondoscend to fight^ such a vulgar thine as a mortgage. Cotton may be king or not just as people care to think. \\We don't believe he is, but -we do believe that the gpod old cow is queen, and that -vith a gentle and royal purpose she is eeking to build up the lands that the old monarch has wasted. There is verv little style about the old cow. She steps slowly and clumsily abput her busi- ness, but she makes, the business pay well. She plods along in heat\ or cold, wet or dry, eating what is given her, feeling interest enough in the family to look after the dairy interests under circumstances that would dis- ccurage any other living creature; and when she is fed and cared for as she should be, she responds like a queen. She should be crowned with a new milkino- tiste. The newest bonnet is called the \Se- quin,\ and in shape is not unlike the \Princess which Was worn for several years. Many elegant black lace mantles have either the. sleeves alone pr the bpdice pnly lined with red silk gauze. Capes are shown in ladies' clpth of various colors and are finished with a ruffle of the same pinked in fine points or scallops. Small circular capes are again revived, but meet with little popularity, as they are ugly, notwithstanding their unpre- tentipusness. Patent leather Ipw^ciit shoes are worn with bright-cplpred silk stockings, but they have not a very lady-like air for out- of-door wear. Scarlet crepe sun bonnets trimmed With green coin Pr with bearded wheat and green velvet frogs are worn at French watering places. A simple tucked petticoat, long over- skirt and Norfolk jacket and trimming of white siik> bintlirsgs. .of galoop, is the prettiest style for making white flannel suits. Wraps are lined With surah of louisine silks in blue and white and brown and white, and these often form the trimmiiio of the dress with' which the wraps are Worn. Miss Mary F. Seymour has been recent- ly appointed commissioner of deeds foi New Jersey by Governor Abbett. She is the first woman who ever took testimony In a New Jersey court. Bed Morocco shoes are quite fashion- able, but this bizarre foot covering is never becoming to the foot. Sed bows and Rhinestone buckles are added to make them more conspicuous. Bonnets made of figured light foulards and lace axe wprn by little girls. They have soft crowns and frills of lace in double rows around, the front, and are tied with ribbon strings under the chin. The revival of bpnnets-with a jiealf: j n front, wherein decoration of flowers and ribbon may be added tp fill in the space, is hailed with delight by those whose youthfui bloom finds in them a becoming setting. The wedding gown of Miss Tooker, lately _ married ^ at Newpprt, and Worth Enormous Profits of tUc Concent Inniicusc Slims at. Stake—MuH. ared» Iiured to Ituiit agl Dearti. Dr. J. H. Bennett says in a letter to the London Pall Mall Gazette: Public attention has. been forcibly directed for the last few years to the Monte Carlo gambling establishment at Monaco, and to the growing evils which its existence entails. Of late the feeling of aversion, hot to say horror, which it oceasiens has become so general in every country throughout Europe, both with the gov- erned and the governing bodies; that I cannot but think that its days are num- bered. Both Europe and America have •become fully awakened to the fact that the gambling hsuse is a blot on modern society, and that its great and yearly in- creasing prosperity scatters ruin and des- olation over the earth. TJie acknowl- edged profits of the concern are 17,000,^ 000 francs, or nearly £700,000. No per- son living lias probably seen more than I have of the Monte Carlo gambling estab- lishment, for I have resided in its im- mediate vicinity (Slentone) for twenty- five winters, and consequently no one is better qualified to speak of its moral and spcial influence on the surrounding pop- ulations. I took refuge on the Genoese Eiviera in 1859, ill unto death, thereby saved life, and have returned to it in the_ Winter ever since. On my first arrival the gambling house was in its infancy, established at Monaco itself, under the patronage of the prince, and attracted but little notice. It was a very small and insignificant concern. When the gaming establishment at Homburg was closed, M. Blanc, its head, bought up the Monaco business, obtaining from the prince a long lease with all kinds of privileges, which were, Of course, largely paid for. Bringing to the matter g& experience and a masterly mind, M. Blanc's' success has been stupendous. What much aided him was the fact that the closure of Homburg was fol- lowed by that of all the gamblina: houses in Europe, so that gamblers of all nation- alities, men and women, have been thrown into his clutches. Year by year the area of the pernicious influence of Monte uarlo has increased, in ever widening circles, until it is now felt all over the world, in Europe, Asia, Africa and America. Its enormous influence for evil is best understood!^ a simple calculation which 1 owe to a professional gambler. As the chances pf the table are one in thirtv-six in favpr pf the bank, tp gain annually nearly £700,000, which it professes tp dp, (17,000,000'f.) £34,500,000 must have been staked on its tables, must have been won and -lost. The bank's £700,000 profit is its' royalty—at the rate of one in thif ty-six-^-on this enor- mous amount of money, which must, therefore, have been played, lost and won. lithe 17.000,0001 are the profits after deducting the very heavy' expenses incurred by tke establishment, as I be^ lieve is the case, the amount actually played must be much greater. It is this fact of the gambler dealing with large masses of money that partly ac- counts for the strange fascination exer- cised by gambling. A careful player, who begins with, say, £1,000 capital, may have fingered, according to the doc^ trine of chances, £80,000 before he loses Other invalids, better off, send again and again for money, sell, mort- gage, borrow, e'ntirely neglect theii health, spend the days aM srenings in the close, badly ventilated rooms, aiid die before the end of the season. It is very hard that people going to the south for health should be exposed to such temptation. In every hotel there is a band of gamblers who talk of nothing tJut rouge and Jloir, of numbers, of sys- tems of play. Thg3d vdtaries of gambling are not necessarily the young and the inexperienced. They are often middle* aged or aged men and women, and noble- men, gentryj generals, colonels, barris- ters, physicians. The demon of gam- bling has got. hold of them. They come from the four corners of the earth; and the ruin that follows—bankruptcy, pov- erty, dishonor, suicide—mostly falls upon them at liome at New York, Iiio Janeiro, Batavia, Calcutta, anywhere. It is said that during the winter about a suicide a week occurs in and near Monaco. If so, it is only a tithe of what occurs elsewhere through Monte Carlo. For h g e Crlo. For whom is this royalty of £700,000 yearly, this enormous income, raised? Merely to subsidize a degraded prince, and to give- colossal Incomes and fortunes to half a dozen persons, Who are ashamed of the source from whence their . money comes, whom no respectable person would like to acknowledge or receive as friends, and to whom society only owes punishment as inciters to vice. I NATORA NATURAOMS. Where'er\ my eyes may turn or seases rangs. Inspiring nature Joints to life beyond; And when the soul, with rays of light that dim The stars, dispels the haze that floats and fall* Athwart the rising dream of future life, As tranquil seas endow the tranquil airy Lo, from the depths of premonitions wise, ' Peace her gloxy sheds upon the heart that says: If life were not good for man, man would not live; If death were not good for man, man would not die; 'Tis life's fulfillment that all things should fade, Again to live. Nature can ne'er destroy. Naught perisheth, and all that's dust is life. Still with care shall we await the certain change, Like Fear mantled by her good behavior. — Hugh Farta/r ifcDermott HUMOK OP THE DAY. the trine of chances, , his capital. If he play long enough, the bank royalty of one in thirty-six is sure to swallow up his .capital, and then he has had all the emotion of having been alternately successful or the reverse, rich or poor. He regrets when he has at last lost his initial capital that he did not stop when successful, which he never does, vows that he will be more prudent next time, and in order to have the chance sells, borrows, raises money anyhow. fortune, his employer's' lnpney, tp end, may be, by suicide. At Mpnte Carlo often every fourth player is a woman; aud such women! Truly they represent the sirens of old, and are infinitely niere dangerous, often ruining entirely thpse Whom they circunv vent. Th? Wonieii are not all, however, of this class. Husbands often \ pail and an extra good old cow feed of meal. The paid off more mart gages, and paid for more farms than any other known production. • She is mother of all our beef. In many a household she catches the wolt on her horns and tosses it far from the door. She has turned the tide of agricultural prosperity in many parts of the country froin a downward course in. raising grain or cotton to an upper and prosperous one in raising stock, grass and hay. Flowers and grass spring from beneath her feet -on the most barren, soil. The old cow don't stop to enthuse over tlient, but con- verts thehi into good, solid, hafed cash. King Cotton may well uem'ble when he sees good old Queen Cow. marching in jus direction. She comes marching along in. advance of better schools, better morals, better farms, better men and women. The dead old cotton fields will burst forth into grass at her touch, aud contentment and happiness Will leap out of her milking jjail. We take off our hats to Queen Cow. May \her shadows never grow less.-^Souiliem Live Stock Journal. A Story of London Life. The circumstances were very pathetic. ?he ruined gentleman continued to main^ tain the wife p.f his affections in a life of ease by presenting himself as a one-legged beggar on a crowded city crossing, not- withstanding the conviction that it Would one day bring him to grief. He was • + , ... - .-, ---=--- I y. worn.: eons, on the table, ai with a point lace veil and diamonds, them with the gambling frenzy It is Bishop Clark performed the ceremony. | principally to attract thefe really respec* At the famous ball given by Minister table people, to lead them by slow de- Morton in Paris, Mrs.- Macicey is said to \ gree? to the gaming tables, that every have outshone all French or American i possible allurement and inducement is millionaires by the display that she made \ offered to all, to \travelers and to residents of diamonds aud precious stones. She ; With the nipst unbounded liberality A wore on this occasion the famous set of ' magnificent band of seventy-five musi- Eapphires which attracted so much atten- cians discourses sweet music \every after- tion at the Paris exhibition in 1878. it noon and evening. Theatrical and oper- is valued at $800,0.00, and comprises dia- atic performances are offered Weeklv at Naiues That Were Hissed. iTpiv that there is some speculation on \ what name to give the Northern portion of Dakota, in case the Southern part should be admitted to the Union as the | State of Dakota, it may be interesting to note that just one hundred years ago, in 1784 di d i 1784, an ordinance was drawn up in re- gard tp \the territory ceded or to be ceded by individual States to the United States.\ The original draft read; \The territory northward of the forty- fifth degree, that is to say, of the com- pletion of forty-five degrees from the equator and extending to the lake pf the Woods, shall be called Sylvania. \Of the territory under the fortj'-fifth aud forty-fourth degrees, that which lies westward Of lake Michigan, shall be called Michigania; aiid that which is eastward therefore, within the XDeninsula formed by the lakes and waters of Michigan, Huron, St. Clair and Erie, shall be called Chersonesus, and shall include any part of the peninsula which may extend above the forty^fifth degree. \ Of the territory under the 48d and 42d degrees, that to the westward through which the Assenisipi or Rock River runs, shall be callel Assenisipia; and that to the eastward, in \which are the fountains pf the Muskingum, the two Miamis of the Ohio, the^Wabash, the Illinois, tho Miamis of the Lake, and the Sandusky Rivers, shall be called Mesopotamia. \Of the territory which lies under the 41st and 40th degrees, the western, through which the river Illinois runs, shall be called Illinois, that next ad- joining to the eastward, Saratoga; and that between this last and Pennsylvania, and extending from the Ohio to Lake Erie, shall be called Washington. \Of the territpry which lies under the 39th and 38tli degrees, tp which shall be added so much of the point of land within the fork* of the Ohio and Mississippi as lies under the 37th degree, that to the westward, within and adja- cent to which are the confluences of the rivers Wabash, Shawnee, Tanisee, Ohio, Illinois, Mississippi, and Mis- souri, shall be called Polypotamia, and that to the eastward, further up the Ohio, otherwise called the Pelisipi, ehall be called Pelisipia.\ Each reader can judge for himself how much was gained and how much was lost by the fact that, under the •ordinance finally agreed upon, these proposed names were not fastened upon the Western, territory and perpetuated in history. How to Sleep. In a recent paper read before the BPS- tpn Society for Medical Improvement, Dr. E. M. Hodges said: \It is a common impression that to take food immediately before going to. bed and to sleep is un- wise. Such a suggestion is answered by a reminder that the instinc-5 of animals prompts them to sleep # as sopn as they have eaten: andin summer an after-dinner nap, especially when that meal is taken at midday, is a luxury indulged in by many. Neither darkness nor seaspn pf the year alters the conditions. If the Ordinary hour of the evening meal is six ,, pe ia p bracelets, ring, earrings and neefc i nominal Th dt t th l i J lbi at which the monds. _ averages about $75,000 per month, and this is only one among many parures and sets of precious stones that Mrs, Mackey may call her own. Her jewel chest is valued at $1,000,000. lace. The pendant to the latter is com- celebrities of the day take part. The posed pf pne enprmoiis sapphire of the ! gardens are, perhaps, the finest in South- size pf a pigepii's egg, set in large dia-1 ern Eurppe; the reading room is one pf monds. But then Mr. Mackey's income the best supplied, with periodical liters ... _ ature;andall are opened from morn to night, without restriction, to any WelU -dressed person, Says the spider to the fly: \Walk intp my parlpr, my pretty fly.\ _ They dp walk in by the hundreds, by the thousand, and -are constantly sucked dry^-destroyed morally and phy- sically. - - When I first inhabited the Riviera the Monaco gambling house, as already stated, was a mere gambling club or casino which excited but little riotifie. Kbw it has become the great attraction, the great fact, Half the people one meets are so- ing or have been to Monte Carlo, \if Incidents at a Jrife in Constantinople- We saw. a young woman brought out of a burning house with a copper kettje in her hand. She Was screaming wildly: \Mybaby! Oh, my baby!\ The woman had been .engaged in the kitchen, with her infant in her arms, and 1M been busily occupied saving her cooking uten- sils'by throwing them intotlie cistern, quite unconscious that her dwelling was j friends are invited: the probable answer already pii fire. The firemen, having dis- U s : I anj. going to Monaco, to the classic covered her in that perilous place; had ca - concert, to the band, of to an operatic finallv run his over by brougham. She had never suspected what his business was till she saw the victim of * the accidenfc=-J\?bfcs and Queries. own wife's rushed into the kitclien and forced her to hasten out. On : her jyay she had espied a copper'kettle, and had instinc- tively seizedit; but in her fright and be- wilderment; she had thrown her baby into the cistern instead of the kettle. Fortunately.a sturdy fellow succeeded in rescuing the baby, and restoring it to the distracted mpther. The other incident was even more dreadful. As we stood looking at the fire We-beheld. a man struggling, and the next moment saw him thrown deliberate- ly into the fjs,nies. .George and I exchanged looks pf horror, but the bystanders seemed to pay little heed to the occufence, merely \re* marking that the man was an incendiary who had been caught in the act of spread- ing tlie fire for the purpose of-robbery,— ~8t, Nielwtm. •••-•- \ ' \•' performance, but few dare confess they are going to play, and yet very many do. Hundreds go from Mentpne every day, thousands, from Nice,. Cannes, and even San Eem.q. and Genoa. It is a growing pestilence, a real moral plague spot. People who'oug'ht to know better play 'away the money they brought to live with, throughout the winter, and are impover- ished throughout their stay, living on strict necessaries. This I heat front the Mentone tradespeople, who bewail the daily loss they experience frpin this caused Many of their most respectable clients lose sp heavily at Monte Carlo in the early part pf their stay that they ha^e to live from.hand to mouth dufihg the remain- der. Many Who cojne to the Riviera from the North to save life, lose all their funds early in the wi&tef'and have to return bpnVe to face.disease pr perhaps death. y g or seven o'clock, and the first morning nleal seven or eight o'clock, an interval Of twelve hours or more elapses without food, and for the persons whose nutrition Hanion seems to have discovered rowed-to wealth.— Wliiteliall Times. Talk about babies; but then, we never indulge in small talk.— Chicago Sun. \Out on the fly!\ is now the cry of the infuriated bald-headed citizen.— Lowell Citizen. A man will put his best foot forward •if he nas a sore toe on the other foot.— Picayune. The rising of the tied—Turning out to build the fire and cook the breakfast,—• Waterloo Observer. \ Stooping over to pick up a fair lady's handkerchief loses its joy when it sacri- fices a suspender button. Since pantaloons have been selling for ten cents a pair Detroiters have begun to look quite dressy.— Courier-Journal. \Ah how do you vote this year, Smith?\ \Same as I did last—at th© polls.\ And they passed on.— Boston Post. \That was a clothes shave,\ said the burglar as he tumbled over the fence, leaving a part of his pantaloons with th© bulldog.— Life. In Cincinnati there is a soda i puntain called \Blizzard.\- It is probably so called because so many men have been ruined by it.— Boston Post. \No said Amy, \I'll have tfee whole hog or none.\ \Please don't say 'whole hog',\ remonstrated the high school girl, \say 'undivided porcine.\— Derrick. Young physician—No, it is not ia good taste for a young physician when writing to a patient to sign himself, \Yours till death.\— Somerville Jour- nal. A bit of poetry floating around in the papers is headed.: \Thee Thee, Only Thee.\ It is probably Jay Gould's ode to the mighty dollar.— Philadelphia, Chronicle. Brown—Ah, Fogg! Quite a stranger! How do you like your new residence ? Fine landscape, I suppose? Fogg—Kb, there's no landscape to speak of, but there's two fire 'scapes.\— Boston Tran- script. \There! that's the summer hotel for me,\ said Bigsby, pointing at an advert tisement in his paper. \None of your temperance houses. They advertise, 'Hops every night.\— Burlington Free Press. If there is anything that will make a man cordially hate himself it is when he takes a walk about a mile to the post- office to find that he has left his keys at home,' and then on gping back after them to find on opening the box that the only thing in it is a card notifying him that his box rent is due.— Boston Post. At a fashionable ball, Miss Gattlefrv, who was rather careless in expressing herself, approaches Mr. McPeal, and says: \Supper is ready, Why don'ty.e\i take a lady.to eat?\ \Be—be—because replies the Stuttering MT. McPeal, \I ner—ner—ner —never e—e—eat la—la— ladies.\ Smart man, but he ,ought to be killed.— Arhmsaw TrSvder, THE BITTEREST BITE. The bite of a' 'skeeter\ is painful, The bite of a bug will haunt; The bite of a sandwich is baneful, At a railroad restaurant; The bite of a serpent is sadd'ning, And nothing is worse than this; The bite of a bull-dog is madd'niug, While the bite of a girl is bliss; But a bite more painful than kerosene \~ Is the bitter bite of an apple green, —Jfeto J ork Journal, A cookery book says, \always smell i salt codfish befpre buying it.\ We al- ways do, and after buying it, tpo—for three or four Qays after. The fact Is, is at fault this is altogether too loiio- a •• vou caa smell a salted codfish without peripd fpr fasting. That such an inter- val without food is permitted explains many a restless mglitj and much of the head and backache, and the languid, half-rrested condition on rising, which is accompanied by no appetite for breakfast. This meal itself often dissipates these sensations. It is, therefore desirable, if not essential, when nutriment is to be crowded, that the last thing before going to bed should be the taking pf fpod. Sleeplessness is often caused by starvation, and a tumbler of milk, if drank in the middle of the night, will often put people tp sleep ivhen hypnptics would fail cf their purpose. Food before rising is an equally important expedient. It sup- plies strengto. for bathing arid dressing, laborious and wearisome tasks for the underfed, and is a better-morning 'pick- me-up' than any hackneyed 'tonic'\ Street Cars Without Kails. «\n Alexandria (Egypt) letter to the San Francisco Examiner says: Here in Alex- andria, for the first time inmy life. I have seen street cars running Without the aid pf rails of any kind. The cars ate like our ordinary open summer cars, though a little shorter and are drawn by two horses. The wheels are about twice the usual diameter, projecting up through the flppr quite conspicuously. They are of wood,. With iron tires. As the streets of Alexandria are paved with smooth blocks ol stone, about two feet long and one foot wide, in such a Way that the lines of contiguity cross the street half way diagonally and then reverse, they are specially adapted to the locomotion of these cars. The cars must be light-built, and I judge that there are Teg*ularly ap- pointed routes for them. They movo along at a deGent speed, and, are not, al- together uncomfortable, buying it at all if you get within ten rods of where it is. The odor of a salted codfish is like the darkness that once settled on Egypt: it is something that can be>felt.— Somerville Journal. Oh, frolicsome insect, though far you may roam, Bee it ever so humble, there's no place like comb; Where honey lies sparldiiig in beautiful wells, Not even the tombs has more comfortable sells. Comb, Comb! Sweet Cpmb! There's np place like Ccmb! Oh, he stung me! The brute! My proboscis is sore— Go back to your ugly-thatched., beehive pnee more. The wasj>s wax impatient, the hornets are mad-— They want you; I don't! \Wnen you go, I'Jl be glad! Comb, Comb! Sweet Comb! There's no place like Comb! A Eemarkablo Incident. Hairy Williams and a party of friends were cruising around off CapeMay, when they came on the masts of a vessel pro- truding above the waves. They rowed over to inspect the wreck when Harry Williams cried out: \My God! boys, that is father's schopner. I know her by the -erosstrees that we fixed with the block to reef the halyards through before she started on her last voyage. God help them, they are alllpst!\ And the young man fell fainting in the boat. The schooner was the Deborah Diverdy, commanded by Captain Frank Williams. On his last trip Captain Williams had with him his wife, two sons, John and Frank, a steward and his wife, and two deckhands whose names are unknown. The vessel left Boston a month previous and all QU board were lost.— Detroit Ifryt Prm.. \ f-

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