anaheim-gazette 1874-08-22

VOL. 4. Southern Californian. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. RICHARD MELROSE & CO., PUBLISHERS AND PROFRIERS. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. One copy, one year (in advance)...$4 00 One copy, six months...2 50 Business Cards. L. GUNTHER, PIONEER BOOT AND SHOE MAKER Cor. Third and Los Angeles Sts., Anaheim. DR. J. S. GARDINER, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Office in Clark & Austin's Building, ANAHEIM. MRS. A. HIGGINS, Ladies' Physician and Midwife. Particular attention given to diseases peculiar to women and children. Office and residence, corner Lemon and Center Streets, Anaheim. PIONEER DRUG STORE, Center Street, corner of Lemon, Anaheim, Cal. W. M. HIGGINS. Miscellaneous. R. LUEDKE, WATCH MAKER AND... JEWELER, CENTER STREET, ANAHEIM. EVERY DESCRIPTION OF WATCHES, CLOCKS, AND JEWELRY Carefully repaired and WARRANTYed. A fine assortment of JEWELRY on hand. CLARK & AUSTIN, DEALERS IN Books, Stationery, and Fancy Goods, Toys, Viellna, Accordeona, ALBUMS, GOLD PENS, CANDIES, etc. ANAHEIM. Agents for Averill's Chemical Paint. Also, for the San Francisco Dailies and Weeklies, Eastern Periodicals, and Hall's Patent Fire and Burglar Proof Safes. Give us a call. J. H. GOOCH, PRACTICAL HOUSE, SIGN, AND CARRIAGE PAINTER. My Ideal: Have you ever seen my dog? She's a winnie little girl. Like none of earth's bridges. Save her own sweet snout. Beauty that Hebe might be; Sweet, angelic, heavenly. Rippling waves of glowing dancing in her golden skin. And around her, like the sun's departing rays. Beams all graceful, sweet and beautiful and bright. Gentle she as voice of sprightness. Modest as the lily's bloom. Sweet dispensing joy and beauty as the rose perfume. Eyes whose liquid splendens her pure soul as white as the bright translucence of Sketch sweet nature's pearls. Should those eyes my sooth could you, should you Nay! meethinks I hear your sweet jewel's name. But I dare not lisp it e'en less some wanton wretch in the casket of my heart. Sacred I retain it. Sweeter than the warrior's From the conflict free, Rest to weary, dew to roose Is that name to me. Making the HandOn the front of a dingy ring at the head of Chatham New York, weather beaten hangs the sign," Hand-Orpner porter saw the sign, and two flights of stairs, throttled door to the left MRS. A. HIGGINS, Ladies' Physician and Midwife. PIONEER DRUG STORE, Center Street, corner of Lemon, Anaheim, Cal. W. M. HIGGINS. Proprietor, and Dealer in Drugs, Perfumery, and Garden Seeds. A. G. BEEBE, CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER. Plans and Specifications drawn up with neatness and accuracy. Orders left at CLARK'S BOOK STORE will receive prompt attention. P. C. McKINNIE, CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER. SHOP...ON CENTER STREET Adjoining Pioneer Livery Stable. GEO. C. KNOX, CIVIL ENGINEER and SURVEYOR. Office, at the CALIFORNIAN OFFICE, Los Angeles Street...Anaheim. A. BAILEY, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. OFFICE, ENTERPRISE HALL BUILDING. J. W. CLARK, Netary Public and Justice of the Peace. Land Agent and Conveyancer. Acknowledgments taken. Loans negotiated on Real Estate security. Office at Clark's Building, opposite Planter's Hotel, Center Street. SAMUEL HAMILTON, Attorney and Counselor at Law. OFFICE...WITH WM. R. OLDEN, Center Street, Anaheim. JOSEPH BENNERSCHEIDT, Tin and Copper Smith, CENTER STREET, ANAHEIM. STOVES, ETC., ALWAYS ON HAND. SAMUEL MEYER, CROCKERY, GLASSWARE, LAMPS, OILS Gas Fixtures and Kitchen Utensils. Commercial Street, Los Angeles. MRS. FLORA ELDREDGE, MILLINER, CENTRE STREET...ANAHEIM. ANAHEIM. Agents for Averill's Chemical Paint. Also, for the San Francisco Dailies and Weeklies, Eastern Periodicals, and Hall's Patent Fire and Burglar Proof Safes. Give us a call. J. H. GOOCH, PRACTICAL HOUSE, SIGN, AND CARRIAGE PAINTER. Opposite Poplar Row, CENTRE STREET...ANAHEIM. All kinds of Carriage Painting done in the VERY BEST STYLE. Prices according to style and quality, from $15 upward. NOTICE TO SHIPPERS. GREAT REDUCTION IN FREIGHT. ANAHEIM LIGHTER COMPANY. This Company is now prepared to receive and deliver freight at the Lowest Rates. Shippers will please send Bills of Lading by Steamer, and mark freight care "Anaheim Lighter Company. No charge for Storage on Grain." BOST.E.W. WHITE. Agent Anaheim Lighter Company. B. DREYFUS, Anaheim. E. L. GOLDSTRIX, San Franco'O. J. FROWENFIELD, J. J. WEOLLEIN, New York. B. DREYFUS & CO., GROWERS AND DEALERS IN CALIFORNIA WINES AND CRAPE BRANDIES 117 and 119 Broadway, and 62 and 64 Cedar St., NEW YORK. F. A. KORN & CO., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in WINES. FINE WINES AND LIQUORS Of the Best Selected Varieties. ANAHEIM DRUG STORE, Center Street, Anaheim. Making the HandOn the front of a dingy ring at the head of Chatham New York, weather beaten hangs the sign, "Hand-Ornament saw the sign, and two flights of stairs, through door to the left, and he only hand-organ manufactures United States. Standing leaning over old organ boxes fore little stands, five men wipe In the middle of the room hand-organs. On the wall patterns, numbered and dressed further corner stood a man or eight feet high, looking world like a threshing-machine." "Is the proprietor in?" porter of the workman near The workman turned, poised the other end of the room, cutting out long strips from sheet of pasteboard. Sitting on a low chair, white before him, was a short-faced man, evidently a German bench in front of him, mounted wooden rests, hung a wood fifteen inches long, perhaps inches in diameter. Behind her was a small case, a Lilac case, containing thirty-six large and every box full of little pets. "What do you charge for sized organ?" asked the reporter. "It depends on the kind the proprietor; "I can make organ, with twenty-four keys nine tunes, with a black wall hundred dollars. If you can gan to play ten tunes, I can you for a hundred and twelve An organ of this size will twenty-five pounds. A pair with from twenty-five to forty will cost you from a hundred to two hundred and fifty side show organ, to play with sixty keys, thirty-five pets, large and small drums glee. I can make you for two dollars." While he was talking, the man sat pegging away at the before him, driving a pin he there, straightening them with pair of pinchers, and flattening with a little light hammer. "What are you driving there for?" asked the reporter. "This is an old cylinder made twenty years ago," he "the tunes that were all the don't draw out the pennies we now. I am putting new tunes take the cylinder out and pass clean white paper around it mark it for the tunes, and o little pins in, ane the thing is very easy to do." It looked very easy. This was covered with hundred black lines, some half an inch wide. STOVES, ETC., ALWAYS ON HAND. SAMUEL MEYER, CROCKERY, GLASSWARE, LAMPS, OILS Gas Fixtures and Kitchen Utensils, Commercial Street, Los Angeles. MRS. FLORA ELDREDGE, MILLINER, CENTRE STREET...ANAHEIM. Ladies will find Butterick's celebrated Patterns for sale. HATS AND BONNETS MADE TO ORDER. BATH HOUSE and BARBER SHOP CENTER STREET, ANAHEIM. PROF. DEAN, PROPRIETOR. CITY BAKERY, CENTER STREET, ANAHEIM. CHARLES MILLE...PROPRIETOR. Fresh bread constantly on hand. GEORGE BAUER. BOOTS AND SHOES Made and repaired at the lowest cash price. All orders promptly attended to, and work guaranteed. GEORGE BAUER, Los Angeles St., opposite Enterprise Hall. S. C. FOY, PIONEER SADDLE & HARNESS MAKER Wholesale and Retail Dealer in Saddlery, Leather & Findings No. 17 Los Angeles St., Los Angeles. CARPET WAREHOUSE. AARON SMITH, Insurer and Dealer in Carpets, Oilstores, Paper Hangings, and Upholstery Goods. Carpets sound and put down neatly. Net 7d Downey Blok, Los Angeles. WINES. FINE WINES AND LIQUORS Of the Best Selected Varieties. Call and see Sample Rooms, corner Los Angeles and First North Streets, Anaheim, Cal. ANAHEIM DRUG STORE, Center Street, Anaheim. H. BLANKEN, Proprietor and Dealer in Drugs and Medicines, Patent Medicines, TRUSSES, TOILET ARTICLES, PERFUMERY, etc. Wines and Liquors for Medical Use. PRESCRIPTIONS CAREFULLY DISPENSED. F. LANGENBERGER. L. HALBERSTADT. HALBERSTADT & CO. ANAHEIM LANDING, DEALERS IN LUMBER OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, Keep constantly on hand a large and complete assortment of REDWOOD and OREGON PINE LUMBER Rough, Surfaced, Tongued and Grooved. Also, Pests, Shingles, Shakes, Lathe, Doors, Blinds, Plain and Fancy Pitchers, Windows, Mendings, Lines, Pinsler, Hair, Nails, and Hardware. All of our Lumber is of the best quality and we are determined to sell at the LOWEST RATE. All kinds of GRAIN AND COUNTRY PRODUces Lawn in earnings for Lumber. What are you driving therere for?" asked the reporter. "This is an old cylinder made twenty years ago," he said. "The tunes that were all the don't draw out the pennons now. I am putting new tunes take the cylinder out and pass of clean white paper around it mark it for the tunes, and o little pins in, ane the thing is very easy to do." It looked very easy. The was covered with hundred black lines, some half an inch others scarcely more than a reporter asked how he knew draw the lines. The little man took a hand little pins out of his apron or took a few dozens more of mouth, got up and began to crank of a dismantled organ near. HAND-OGANS AND CHURCH "You see," said he, "a hand made made like a common has a bellows and pipes and keys you want to play on a chur you push down on the key you want to play on a hand-lift the keys. You use you to play on a church organ; the brass pins are the fingers on the gan. You see these little hang down from the ends of Well, every time one of the strikes one of the brass pins. cylinder is going round the ked and the note is sounded brass pin is one of those low ones, the key stays up a gage and the note is a long one. If just a little dot, the key falls rand the note is short." But how do you know mark the cylinder for the tune? "That's the secret of the tightered the little man;" but I show you. You see, the coveried with clean paper, and now I hang it in by the iron sticks out at each end. The tu mark it for I play on the h press the keys down inside them, for I know what would make just as if they did Every time one of these little strikes the cylinder it makes dent. If I hold it down for a it makes a long mark for a shake makes just a dot. Then I go." thern California ANAHEIM, CAL., SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1874. My Ideal. Have you ever seen my Ideal? She's a winsome little elf, Like none of earth's bright jewels— Save her own sweet self. Beauty that Hehe might envy, Sweet, angelic, heavenly, rare; Rippling waves of glowing sunlight, Dancing in her golden hair. And around her, like the halo Of the sun's departing light, Beams all graces, sweet and lovely, Beautiful and bright. Gentle she as voice of springtime, Modest as the lily's bloom, Sweet dispensing joy and sunshine, As the rose perfume. Eyes whose liquid splendors mirror Her pure soul as white as snow, As the bright translucent waters Sketch sweet nature's glow. Should those eyes my soul enthrall, Could you, should you blame? Nay! methinks I hear you ask This sweet jewelry's name. But I dare not lisp it e'en, Lest some wanton wretch profane it, In the casket of my heart, Sacred I retain it. Sweeter than the warrior's welcome, From the conflict free, Rest to weary, dew to roses, Is that name to me. J. B. Mills. Making the Hand-Organs. On the front of a dingy brick building at the head of Chatham Street, in New York, weather beaten and dim, hangs the sign, "Hand-Organs." A reporter saw the sign, and went in. Up two flights of stairs, through the low porch to the left, and down marks with a pen to make them plain. When one tune is marked I put the pins in, as you see." "How do the organ-grinders change from one tune to another while they are playing in the street?" inquired the reporter. "Every organ," responded the little man "plays from seven to ten tunes. This one I am working as plays eight. Do you see these little grooves?" and he pointed to one end of the cylinder, where a piece of the wood had been left, about two inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. There were eight little grooves around the projection. "When the organ-grinder wants to change the tone his lifts that little spring, aboves the cylinder in or out one groove, and the tune is changed." A customer. "Is my organ done yet?" The proprietor turned. The voice was from a long, slim, hungry-looking man, dressed in army blue, with a pair of dark-green spectacles hiding his eyes, who had come in so quietly that nobody had noticed him. "No, it's not done yet," said the little man; "I'm at work at it now. I guess by this time to-morrow it'll be all ready for you." The man in blue turned slowly round, felt his way with a long stick, found the door, and groped down the dark stairs. "That man," said the proprietor, "owns the organ over there on the floor. He fell in the street a week ago, and his organ was broken. He brought it here to mended. He was in the same company that I was in the army. A bullet grazed across both of his eyes, and took off the bridge of his nose. He is totally blind." HOUSEHOLD. Flowers for the Slack — "Daisy Eye-bright," herself the wife of a physician, says in the Country Gentleman: It would be selfish in us to cultivate flowers merely to adorn our own home or to gratify our own love of the beautiful. The flowers are generous; their fragrance is not pent up in themselves, but is wafted on every tiny current of air, and is shared by every one who passes by our grounds or enters our parlors; and we doubt not that many wistful eyes admire the bright colorings, and desire to hold some of them in their hands as their very own. It is a sad thing to be sick, and disabled from walking out. It is a great privation to be shut up in the house, a feeble, wasting invalid, when there is so much brightness out of doors, so much to fill the heart and eye with joy and happiness. We that rise early, and employ ourselves with daily cares and labors, can hardly sympathize with those who are unable to enjoy these privileges, which we can really never appreciate until they are lost and gone beyond our recall. And in every community there are those who highly prize the "green things of the earth," and yet are not able to enjoy them, but are forced to struggle for life with pain and sickness, day and night. To such sufferers a fragrant bunch of flowers comes like a messenger of hope and comfort from the outer world; even a simple rosebud or a bunch of panies is fraught with a blessing; and such slight tokens of remembrance will brighten many a dark hour, and give a cheerful appearance to many a gloomy room. Far better than pills or powders, sometimes, are the bright. The In the sentient wilted top-tier man we till he to driving through always ger of that who was He fulfilled guide as we often have what he is thing in it "Do you wonder? Mr. d'Aroa "Yes, I I believe." Well, he isn't." Why, fortune." Well, sir, till he "Till he property has so on the got whatever "Well, heir to five "That's sir. But was heir to that was斯 Oh. I Making the Hand-Organs. On the front of a dingy brick building at the head of Chatham Street, in New York, weather beaten and dim, hangs the sign, "Hand-Organs." A reporter saw the sign, and went in. Up two flights of stairs, through the low door to the left, and he stood in the only hand-organ manufactory in the United States. Standing at benches, leaning over old organ boxes, seated before little stands, five men were at work. In the middle of the room stood several hand-organs. On the walls hung queer patterns, numbered and diagrammed; in the further corner stood a machine seven or eight feet high, looking for all the world like a threshing-machine. "Is the proprietor in?" asked the reporter of the workman nearest the door. The workman turned, pointed toward the other end of the room, and went on putting out long strips from a great sheet of pasteboard. Sitting on a low chair, with a low table before him, was a short, stout, jolly-faced man, evidently a German. On the bench in front of him, mounted on two wooden rests, hung a wooden cylinder ten inches long, perhaps, and five inches in diameter. Behind the cylinier was a small case, a Lilliputian type case, containing thirty-six little boxes, and every box full of little pins. "What do you charge for a commonized organ?" asked the reporter. NEW TUNES IN OLD INSTRUMENTS. "It depends on the kind," answered the proprietor; "I can make you a flute organ, with twenty-four keys, to play one tunes, with a black walnut case, for hundred dollars. If you want an organ to play ten tunes, I can make it for you for a hundred and twenty dollars. An organ of this size will weigh about twenty-five pounds. A parlor organ, with twenty-five to forty-six keys, will cost you from a hundred and fifty two hundred and fifty dollars. A side show organ, to play nine tunes, with sixty keys, thirty-five brass trumpets, large and small drums and triangles," I can make you for two hundred dollars." While he was talking, the jolly little sat pegging away at the cylinder fore him, driving a pin here and a peg there, straightening them with a little air of pinchers, and flattening them with a little light hammer. "What are you driving those pegs in care for?" asked the reporter. "This is an old cylinder. It was made twenty years ago," he answered; the tunes that were all the go then don't draw out the pennies worth a cent now. I am putting new tunes in it. I use the cylinder out and paste a sheet clean white paper around it. Then I ask it for the tunes, and drive these little pins in, ane the thing is done. It's easy to do." It looked very easy. The cylinder covered with hundreds of little sink lines, some half an inch long had noticed him. "No, it's not done yet," said the little man; "I'm at work at it now. I guess by this time to-morrow it'll be all ready for you." The man in blue turned slowly round, felt his way with a long stick, found the door, and groped down the dark stairs. "The man," said the proprietor, "owns the organ over there on the floor. He fell in the street a week ago, and his organ was broken. He brought it here to be mended. He was in the same company that I was in the army. A bullet grazed across both of his eyes, and took off the bridge of his nose. He is totally blind. He only wanted the box of his organ fixed, but I am changing the tunes for him, and it shan't cost him a cent." "How long will it take you to change the eight tunes?" asked the reporter. "About three days. I charge four dollars a tune for changing—sometimes five on a large organ." "What is that machine in the corner?" "That's a saloon organ. It belongs down here in——Street. They've got tired of the old tunes, and are going to have a set of new ones. I made that machine five years ago, and got $2,000 for it." "That's a long time for one set of tunes. How long do the organs generally last?" asked the reporter. INSTRUMENTS THAT LAST. "Oh, bless your soul," said the little man; "five years is no time at all for a hand-organ. Why, there's many an organ traveling the streets that's been used every day, week in and week out, for the last thirty years. That's just what kills the business. They last too long." "How many organs do you make in a year?" asked the reporter. "Well, from seventy-five to a hundred. When times are hard, more men have to go to grinding organs, and then the business is better. I shall make a hundred this year." "That ought to make a profitable business." "No, it don't. Materials are so high, that there's not very much profit on organs. I have to do some work in other branches to make it pay. I make a great many automatic figures for traveling shows, and repair most all kinds of musical instruments." "Then there are a hundred new organs turned loose to prey on the public every year?" "More than that," said the little man; "this is the only hand-organ manufacture in the country, but there is a firm 'round in——Street that imports them from France. They sell about as many every year as I do, and sell them for the same prices." "Then there is no competition?" "No, no competition." "Can any of your workmen mark the cylinders for new tunes?" "No, there are only two men on this side of the Atlantic who can put the tunes on a cylinder—the man who imports organs from France and myself." "Are there many Germans grinding organs?" "No," responded the organ maker; "the grinders are nearly all Italians and old American soldiers."—N.Y.Sun. PICKLED CAULIFLOWERS.—Take good white heads, break them into small pieces, and boil for ten minutes in strong salt and water. Skim out the pieces, which should be so tender that a splint of broom-corn can be run through the stems. Lay them on a towel, to drain off the water, and when thoroughly cold, put them into a pickle jar, with a few whole cloves, allspice, pepper, and sticks of cinnamon tied up in a cloth. Boil, and skim thoroughly; then pour it directly over the cauliflower. If a few beets are sliced up in the vinegar while boiling, they will color the cauliflower stalks a bright coral red, and make them more attractive to the eye.—Country Gentleman. CRYSTALLIZED FLOWERS.—Among the other floral fancies loved by ladies is the subject of crystallizing flowers. The following is one of the simplest ways to accomplish this object: Construct some baskets of fancy form with pliable copper wire, and wrap them with gauze. Into these tie to the bottom violets, ferns, geranium leaves—in fact, any flowers except full-blown roses—and sink them in a solution of alum, of one pound to a gallon of water, after the solution has cooled. The colors will then be preserved in their original beauty, and the crystallized alum will hold faster than when from a hot solubulation. When you have a light covering of crystals that completely covers the articles, remove the basket carefully and allow it to drip for twelve hours. The baskets make beautiful parlor ornaments, and for a long time preserve them What are you driving those pegs in here for?" asked the reporter. This is an old cylinder. It was made twenty years ago," he answered; the tunes that were all the go then don't draw out the pennies worth a cent now. I am putting new tunes in it. I use the cylinder out and paste a sheet clean white paper around it. Then I mark it for the tunes, and drive these pins in, ane the thing is done. It's easy to do." It looked very easy. The cylinder is covered with hundreds of little rock lines, some half an inch long, others scarce more than a dot. Theorter asked how he knew where to draw the lines. The little man took a handful of the pins out of his apron on his lap, took a few dozens more out of his mouth, got up and began to turn the knick of a dismantled organ that stood over. The hand-organs and church organs. You see," said he, "a hand-organ is made like a common organ. It is bellows and pipes and keys. When want to play on a church organ, push down on the keys; when want to play on a hand-organ, you the keys. You use your fingers play on a church organ; these little pins are the fingers on a hand-organ. You see these little wires that hang down from the ends of the keys? well, every time one of those wires ties one of the brass pins while the order is going round the key is raised and the note is sounded. If the pin is one of those long, half ones, the key stays up a good whille, the note is a long one. If the pin is a little dot, the key falls right back, the note is short. But how do you know where to mark the cylinder for the tunes? That's the secret of the trade," anne redried the little man; "but I guess I'll tell you. You see, the cylinder is made with clean paper, and all ready; I hang it in by the iron rod that is out at each end. The tune I want mark it for I play on the keys, only I am the keys down inside of lifting them, for I know what noise they make just as if they did make it. My time one of these little wires makes a little cylinder it makes a little note. If I hold it down for a long note takes a long mark, for a short note it just a dot. Then I go over the basket of lady form with pliable copper wire, and wrap them with gauze. Into these tie to the bottom violets, ferns, geranium leaves—in fact, any flowers except full-blown roses—and sink them in a solution of alum, of one pound to a gallon of water, after the solution has cooled. The colors will then be preserved in their original beauty, and the crystallized alum will hold faster than when from a hot solution. When you have a light covering of crystals that completely covers the articles, remove the basket carefully and allow it to drip for twelve hours. The baskets make beautiful parlor ornaments, and for a long time preserve the freshness of the flowers. Green Corn Pudding.—Allow one long ear of sweet corn for each person; take half a pint of milk, one egg, a dessertspoonful of white sugar, one of sweet butter, and a teaspoonful of salt to every two ears; heat the eggs and sugar well together, and add the milk and salt; cut the corn off the cobs with a sharp knife, and chop the divided grains with a chopping knife, but not too fine, or better still, split each row of grains down the middle before cutting them off the cobs; the corn must not be boiled first; stir the chopped corn into the milk, and bake in a brisk oven in custard-cups or a tin pan, until the top is nicely browned, but not hardened. Serve hot, without sauce. This is a delicious dish. Some persons prefer it cold. Common corn may be used, if young and tender, but requires as much again sugar. To Bleach Cotton.—In reply to "Housekeeper," I would say a very good way to bleach cotton cloth is to soak it in buttermilk for a few days. Another way is to make a good sand; put from one to two tablespoonfuls of turpentine into it before putting the clothes in. Wash as usual, wringing the clothes from the boil, and drying without rinsing. By using one tablespoonful of turpentine in the first sands on washing days, it will save half the labor of rubbing, and the clothes will never become yellow, but will remain a pure white. It is simple, and I never wash without it. A benevolent physician in Laporte County, Indiana, gave a Fourth of July plains to seven hundred children, not even such delicacy as cake, strawberries and ice cream being omitted. He get back his outlay in collar, however, before the week was over. It is related obrated negro mined as a war terrogated by to break down "You are in ness, I believe." Yes, sir." Isn't that mandered the lace "I don't know plied the minute better than my proud of it." What was "He was a lot of regina noor." A correspondence that this million papers ad there were The Irish Post Boy (1835). In the Irish post-boy we are not presented with the white-packted, silk-hatted, top-heated, and bright-spurred gentleman we are accustomed to in England, as trim as his own horses, and as silent, till he touches his hat to get his fee for driving them. The Irish post-boy, on the contrary, is as scanty in his attire as he is abundant in his intelligence, having always something to tell his passenger of the localities they pass through, as though he took him for a book-maker who was taking notes upon the way. He fulfills a double function—he is guide as well as driver, and his humor often Hes as much in what he does as in what he says. He will commence something in this fashion: "Do you see that house, yer honor, yonder? I suppose you know that's Mr. d'Arcy's." "Yes, I do." Mr. d'Arcy is very rich, I believe." "Well, sir, maybe he is, and maybe he isn't." "Why, I thought he was a man of fortune." "Well, you see, he was purty well off, sir, till he got howld of the property?" "Till he got it! What do you mean?" "Why, sir, when he was heir to the property he had great expectations; and so, on the strength of that, you see, he got whatever money he wanted." "Well, and so he ought, when he was heir to five thousand pounds a year." "That's true, yer honor; that's true, sir. But then, you'll understand, he was heir to five thousand pounds a year that was spirit." Tilton's Game. I to-day called upon an old associate of Victoria C. Woodhull—a woman who belonged to the free-law school, and was thoroughly in the confidence of Vio., Tilton, and all the rest of them, but who has since reformed, and now leads a virtuous, godly life. I found her at her own home, surrounded by her family. Correspondent—I think you equa "trained" with Vio Woodhull. Am I right? Mrs.——Yes; but I'm out of that crowd now, and never want to hear of them again. Please don't bring up the subject. It's not a pleasant one to me. Correspondent—But do you not think it your duty to speak? You must know something of this Beesher affair. Mrs.——Yes, I do. If you will promise not to mention my name, I'll give you THE REAL FACTS IN THIS CASE. So far as I can. It is a painful task, and one I shrink from, but it is a duty, I suppose. Correspondent—It certainly is. Mrs.——Well, I've known Vio Woodhull and Tennie Claflin almost all my life. I knew of them in their native town in Ohio. A few years ago I married a wealthy gentleman in Indiana. He was interested in the coal fields of Indiana. For a time we lived happily, and then trouble came. He went off after other women, and treated me ornately. To get away from his associates, we moved to New York, and there he abused me so that we finally separated. He went to Florida, or somewhere down there and died. I was thrown out on Take good into small minutes in kim out the tender that can be run them on a war, and when into a pickle lives, allspice, mon tied up thoroughly; or the canli-licled up in they will kicks a bright more attract-nt gentleman. Among the ladies is theowers. The clest ways to instruct some appliable cop-with gauze. com violets, fact, any roses—and rum, of one ear, after the colors will sir original alm will a hot solu-light cover-tely covers get carefully twelve hours. parlor orna- Why, I thought he was a man of fortune." Well, you see, he was purty well off, sir, till he got howld of the property." Till he got it! What do you mean?" Why, sir, when he was heir to the property he had great expectations; and so, on the strength of that, you see, he got whatever money he wanted." Well, and so he ought, when he was heir to five thousand pounds a year." That's true, yer honor; that's true, sir. But then, you'll understand, he was heir to five thousand pounds a year that was spirit." Oh, I see!" So, when he got the property, of course the gintleman was ruined." Hillo! take care—you were nearly in the ditch then." Never fear, sir; it's that blackguard mare that is always shiny'. Hurrup!" How close her cars are cut!" Yes, they are, sir; oh, they're close enough; but nothing will cure the villain." Cure her! How do you mean?" Why, sir, I persaved that, whenever she started, she always cocked her ears up; so I cut them off, you see, to make her lave off the trick of startin'; but, bad luck to the vagabone! she's just as bad as ever." In a particularly dangerous part of the road, with a precipice on one side, you observe the post-boy keeps casting an inquiring glance toward his vehicle. "What's the matter?" you inquire; "rather an awkward bit of road here." Oh, it's nothin', sir; it's a grand prospect." Yes—of going over. Why, it is some hundred feet to the bottom." Well, it may be. But look at the prospect, sir; them mountains—oh, they're grand, sir; they beat the world for dignity. You'd never see their likes again if you was to go over twenty precipusses." After many other tales and difficulties, you reach your journey's end, and then the post boy, as you have surmised, expects a good gratuity. You give him what you consider to be a handsome reward for his services, but still he is not contented. "Sure," he says, "your honor wouldn't mind another shillin'." No, you reply; "I think I've paid you liberally." But you'll consider the way I drove you, sir?" Not a pleasant one, by any means." And the power of stories I told you?" Some of which I have heard before." Well, then, give me another shillin' sir, and I'll tell you sometin' which I will undertake to say you never heard before." Very good, then; there's a shilling. Now, what's the story I have never heard? Well, then, of coorse your honor remembers the three miles we came along with the cliff upon one side of us?" Remember it?—I shall never forget it! Well, then, you don't know, sir, that I drove you them three miles without a linchpin!" Turkish Beds. — A correspondent writing of a Turkish harem, says: "Each lady had three rooms to herself. Correspondent—It certainly is. Mrs. — Well, I've known Vie Woodhull and Tennie Cladin almost all my life. I knew of them in their native town in Ohio. A few years ago I married a wealthy gentleman in Indiana. He was interested in the coal fields of Indiana. For a time we lived happily, and then trouble came. He went off after other women, and treated me cruelly. To get away from his associates, we moved to New York, and there he abused me so that we finally separated. He went to Florida, or somewhere down there, and died. I was thrown out on the world alone and nearly starved. My father was rich, but I would not take anything from him. One day I fell in with Vie Woodhull. She wanted me to call on her in Broad Street. I did so, and for months after that was with her constantly. And, oh! the thought of it sickens me. The sights and scenes I have witnessed in that house are too terrible to relate. You would not believe me if I should tell you. I think Vie Woodhull is the most brutal, abandoned woman I ever saw. With her and Tennie, every thought is upon making money. They live by blackmailing. Whoever comes to their net is fleeced. Correspondent—What do you know of this Tilton matter? Mrs. — I was going to tell you. While I was stopping at the Woodhull house they had a carousel almost every night. Blood, and a number of other men, and all the women they could ring in, were there. One day THEODORE TILTON CAME IN. He knew Vie, and was introduced around. He came first under an assumed name. I have forgotten what it was; but he throw it off in a very few minutes after entering the room. At the outset he seemed a little embarrassed; but before long he was the most violent free-lover of the crowd. He had always been a free-lover in theory. So had a great many other men he knew of who claimed to be Christians. He fairly out-Heroded Herod. Of course everyone praised and flattered him; Vie and Tennie smiled, and Theodoore Tilton was IN THEIR GRASP AND LOST. After that he visited us often, and seemed thoroughly infatuated. He was like a young boy taking his first pull at a pipe—strutted about us, and swore like a pirate, all to show that he was the prince of free-lovers. Now he talks about his associating with Vie, to prevent her telling his secret. I tell you that is false. I was there. Theodoore Tilton was at the Woodhull house fifty times before Vie ever dreamed of the Beecher matter. Theodoore Tilton told her of it. He told her to excuse himself for his own misdeeds. I heard him say myself, that he thought a husband had as much right to be fathless to his wife as a wife had to be faithless to her husband. That is the key to the whole situation. Vie having once obtained this confession, traded on it. She woke Tilton up by publishing an intimation of it in the New York World. Tilton saw it, and went for her. She scolly told him she had him in her meshes. And so she had; and she has kept him there ever since. Very good, then; there's a shilling. Now, what's the story I have never heard? Well, then, of coorze your honor remembers the three miles we came along with the cliff upon one side of us? Remember it?—I shall never forget it! Well, then, you don't know, sir, that I drove you them three miles without a linchpin! Turkish Beds. — A correspondent writing of a Turkish harem, says: "Each lady had three rooms to herself, and the furnishing of them was generally left to her taste or caprice. They were arranged very well and the furniture was very handsome, but curious in form. A regular Turkish bed is something quite different from ours. There is no bedstead or mattress, but about thirty very thickly padded quilts, covered with silk or satin, laid one on top of the other on the floor, until they are about two feet deep. The sheets are invariably of silk, embroidered, and the coverlid is a marvel of gold and silver embroidery on satin or velvet. The pillows are of pink, blue or yellow satin, covered with beautiful lace. From the ceiling hangs a large jeweled and gilded hoop, and from this rich lace curtains, which encircle the bed. To hold their robes they have innumerable brass-nailed camphorwood trunks, and as one of these after another was turned out for me to see the contents, I began almost to lose my head in the confusion of colors and beauty of materials." It is related of George Clark, the celebrated negro minstrel that, being examined as a witness, he was severely interrogated by the attorney, who wished to break down his evidence. "You are in the negro minstrel business, I believe?" inquired the lawyer. "Yes, sir," was the prompt reply. "I isn't that rather a low calling?" demanded the lawyer. "I don't know but what it is, sir," replied the minstrel, "but it is so much better than my father's that I am rather proud of it." "What was your father's calling?" "He was a lawyer," replied Clark, in a tone of regret that put the audience in a roar. The lawyer let him alone. A correspondent wants to know if it is true that the human body has seven million pounds. The last time we counted there were seven million and nine times before Vic ever dreamed of the Beecher matter. Theodore Tilton told her of it. He told her to excuse himself for his own misdeeds. I heard him say, myself, that he thought a husband had as much right to be fathless to his wife as a wife had to be faithless to her husband. That is the key to the whole situation. Vic, having once obtained this confession, traded on it. She woke Tilton up by publishing an intimation of it in the New York World. Tilton saw it, and went for her. She coolly told him she had him in her maiden. And so she had; and she has kept him there ever since. Correspondent—Then you don't believe Mr. Beecher is guilty, of course? Mrs. — Not a word of it. Neither does Tilton or Woodhull. I think Moulton and Carpenter do. You me, when it was noised around Tilton's intimacy with Woodhull, he saw himself banished from all decent society. His only course was to reform or answer "You're another." Woodhull had him so close he couldn't reform; so he began throwing mud. He magnified the injury Beecher had done him in advising Mrs. Tilton to leave him (Tilton), and then picked up and saved every scrap of paper that could be disforted to Beecher's hurt. He forced his wife to confess, and brought Beecher down on his marrow bones. It was, and has been from the beginning, a most vile and strocious performance on Tilton's part. Correspondent—How was Rowen mixed up in it? Mrs. — He was afraid Beecher's paper would beat the Independent; so he made common cause with Tilton. Correspondent—How about Beecher's letters to Moulton? Mrs. — Why, Moulton had been told by Tilton, and believed what he heard. He and Tilton Made's pool of Mr. Beecher, By inducing him to make an extravagant apology. Correspondent—These are facts of which you have personal knowledge? Mrs. — Yes, sir. I know that Theodore Tilton is lying with every breath he draws. I know that with his own and Vie Woodhull's cunning, they have woven a net about old Mr. Beecher that they think cannot be broken. And all because Mr. Beecher was foolish enough to place confidence in "his Theodore." I give the above story for what it is worth. All I know of the woman is that she was in a position to know what she speaks—N. Y. Car. Chicago Post and Mail.