anaheim-gazette 1875-08-21

ANAHEIM VOL. 5. In the Woods. In the woods when the young leaves budding Whispered the spring-time near, When the spirit was light. As the sunbeams bright, And faney's sky was clear; When the young bird's song Woke an echo long As the hopes that the heart held dear. In the woods when the summer's glory Was wreathed in light and shade, Through each leafy bough Clearer sunshine now With fuller lustre played. And sweet silence bent With a glad content O'er the hush that fulfillment made. In the woods when the leaves are dropping, Down dropping one by one As the hopes that fade In autumnal shade, And droop are their day is done, And weary of life, And weary of strife, Sink down to the rest they have won. In the woods when the winter hoary Has spread his snowy pall O'er a lifeless past That is laid at last Where the night dews softly fall, Where the moon shines fair Through the branches bare, And the heavens are over all. —Christian at Work. Seeking for Wild Cranberries. that yellow pony, with a huge pack upon his back, wrestled among the salal brush and fern until both were heartily tired. Finally, the jouney was resumed, and the party was uninterrupted till it reached Black Lake, a beautiful body of water, about four miles long, and half a mile wide. The horse was taken on board a raft and ferried across a lake, where it was to find its own living until the party was to return to the city. The young adventurers finished a day's labor by pitching their tent on the raft, and retiring for the night. Early on the following morning the boys made preparations to navigate to the outlet of the lake—a distance of some two miles—and descend the river a half mile or so, where they would make a landing, and then proceed to the cranberry marsh. They hoisted a blanket on a pole, and, with a fair wind, the raft sailed down to the desired landing in good style. After reconnoitering the shores of the river, and taking dinner late in the afternoon, they made preparations for the night. It must be remembered that the boys were now a considerable distance from home. On account of the current, the raft had to be anchored alongside the bank of the river. The poor fellows did not rest well that night. Excited and uneasy, they laid down in their tent to try to sleep. During the quietness of the night, George pinched Sam, and hissed in his ear. "Sam! Sam!" "S—h; I hear ye!" whispered Sam. "What's that? Don't you hear a noise?" asked George, trembling in his fright. marked courtesy by this deferential spirit which think pilots were about ever knew who failed to degree, embarrassment traveling foreign princess ple in one's own grade orally embarrassing object. By long habit, pilots wishes in the form of "gravels" me, to this day in the shape of a re-launching it in the crisp order. In those old days, to at St. Louis, take her to back, and discharge about twenty-five days. Seven or eight of them spent at the wharves of New Orleans, and even was hard at work, except they did nothing but plum up town, and received for it as if they had been moment the boat touch either city, they were not likely to be last bell was ringing a readiness for another voyage. When a captain got here particularly high repains to keep him. With four hundred dollars a per Mississippi, I have to keep such a pilot in full pay, three months after the river was frozen up remember that in those Seeking for Wild Cranberries. From Olympia, the head of Puget Sound navigation, and the capital of Washington Territory, in the month of September, 1874, two young men thought to go out to one of the cranberry marshes, where the berries grow wild, and gather enough to make a small fortune in a few days. At the same time, they would enjoy the beauties of nature, and indulge in the freedom guaranteed by the wild wilderness. Two or three weeks had been occupied in making preparations for the trip. On the morning of their departure, a dozen or more professional packers assisted the boys in loading the camp fixtures, and other traps, on the only pony they had, which was a sorry-looking little yellow cayuse. Thirteen two-bushel sacks, a tent-cloth, frying-pans, kettles, provisions, etc., united in completing the mountain of luggage which was heaped upon the back of the patient little horse. With hearty wishes from their friends for a successful tour, the boys, with their pack animal, passed quietly out of town, and on beyond the little village located at the beautiful falls of the Deschutes river, without meeting with any interruptions worth mentioning. Being encumbered with a gun each, a belt crowded full with pistols: knives, and spoons, Sam Woodruff, the owner of the cayuse, took advantage of a lucky thought, and tied the rope with which he was to lead his gentle steed to a collar on the horse's neck, and then fastened the other end of the lariat around his own body. While the party was picking its way slowly and quietly along the road, a short distance beyond Turnwater, the horse suddenly stopped. His head was raised and his nostrils distended. With one loud snort the little pack-animal sprang forward like a quarter-horse. The slack in the rope was suddenly taken up by the speed of the horse, and Sam's rapid ascent into the air was accompanied by a mournful groan. But he lit upon his feet, and then there was begun a most exciting race. The clash of fire-arms, and the rattle of pans and kettles seemed to put new life into the cayuse, and it took Sam through the air at a fearful speed. He strained every muscle to keep right end up. His gun lit out in the brush, and the spoons and weapons of war jolted out of his belt and dropped behind like chaff from the rear end of a fanning mill. The main stays to the pack on the cayuse gave way, and buckets, bags, blankets, kettles, tinware, boots and other setas, rattled along the route in an unharmonious manner, such as the wild woods of Western Washington never heard before. Seeking for Wild Cranberries. From Olympia, the head of Puget Sound navigation, and the capital of Washington Territory, in the month of September, 1874, two young men thought to go out to one of the cranberry marshes, where the berries grow wild, and gather enough to make a small fortune in a few days. At the same time, they would enjoy the beauties of nature, and indulge in the freedom guaranteed by the wild wilderness. Two or three weeks had been occupied in making preparations for the trip. On the morning of their departure, a dozen or more professional packers assisted the boys in loading the camp fixtures, and other traps, on the only pony they had, which was a sorry-looking little yellow cayuse. Thirteen two-bushel sacks, a tent-cloth, frying-pans, kettles, provisions, etc., united in completing the mountain of luggage which was heaped upon the back of the patient little horse. With hearty wishes from their friends for a successful tour, the boys, with their pack animal, passed quietly out of town, and on beyond the little village located at the beautiful falls of the Deschutes river, without meeting with any interruptions worth mentioning. Being encumbered with a gun each, a belt crowded full with pistols: knives, and spoons, Sam Woodruff, the owner of the cayuse, took advantage of a lucky thought, and tied the rope with which he was to lead his gentle steed to a collar on the horse's neck, and then fastened the other end of the lariat around his own body. While the party was picking its way slowly and quietly along the road, a short distance beyond Turnwater, the horse suddenly stopped. His head was raised and his nostrils distended. With one loud snort the little pack-animal sprang forward like a quarter-horse. The slack in the rope was suddenly taken up by the speed of the horse, and Sam's rapid ascent into the air was accompanied by a mournful groan. But he lit upon his feet, and then there was begun a most exciting race. The clash of fire-arms, and the rattle of pans and kettles seemed to put new life into the cayuse, and it took Sam through the air at a fearful speed. He strained every muscle to keep right end up. His gun lit out in the brush, and the spoons and weapons of war jolted out of his belt and dropped behind like chaff from the rear end of a fanning mill. The main stays to the pack on the cayuse gave way, and buckets, bags, blankets, kettles, tinware, boots and other setas, rattled along the route in an unharmonious manner, such as the wild woods of Western Washington never heard before. Mark Twain. Experience as a Mississippi River Pilot. In my preceding articles I have tried, by going into the minutie of the science of piloting, to carry the reader step by step to a comprehension of what the science consists of; and at the same time I have tried to show him that it is a very curious and wonderful science, too, and very worthy of his attention. If I have seemed to love my subject, it is no surprising thing; for I love the profession far better than any I have followed since, and I took a measureless pride in it. The reason is plain; a pilot in those days was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth. Kings are but the hampered servants of parliament and people; parliaments sit in chains in the afternoon; they made preparations for the night. It must be remembered that the boys were now a considerable distance from home. On account of the current, the raft had to be anchored alongside the bank of the river. The poor fellows did not rest well that night. Excited and uneasy; they laid down in their tent to try to sleep. During the quietness of the night, George pinched Sam, and hissed in his ear. “Sam! Sam!” “S—h; I hear ye!” whispered Sam. “What’s that? Don’t you hear a noise?” asked George, trembling in his flight. “Yes, I do. Where’s the guns? Quick!” The wide-awake young hunters gathered up their guns and crept out as near the water’s edge as possible. There they were that cold September night, on their hands and knees, with their shirts fairly flapping in the wind. That picture on the outer edge of the raft was fit for an artist. Their positions were heart-rending; butthe shades of night hidthe expressionsof sublime terrorwhich were engraven upon their countenances. “By-hokey,它’s a bear,” said Sam; “you creep around throughthe brushand scare him out,andI’ll shoot him.” “Not much,” replied George;and you could tell bythe mannerinwhichhe had backedpartlyoffthe raft,andthe ratlingofhis teeth,thehecouldnotbeinducedtogo ashore.Hewas liableto taketowateratany moment. After summoningup extra courage,both GeorgeandSam firedintothe brush. Itwasonlya report.No wild animal howleda dismal death-wail,或brokethroughthe underbrushwithgiantic bounds.Theboyscreptstealthilybacktothetent,andpassedarestlessnight,awakinginthemorningtofindthatgunpowderandshothadnearlyruineda pileofcampfixturesonshore. With sacks，“scoops,”and buckets,theboysmade theirwaytothemarshwheretheyfoundthatthestories toldregardingtheyieldofcranberrieswerefabulous. The young adventurersstaidoutinthewildernessabouttwoweeks,andreturntedto theircityhomeswiththreebushelsandahalfofcranberries.Itisbutjustthatweshouldmention，thaton theirwaytothecitythey squanderedonedollarand fiftycentsinpurchasingaportionofa deerfromanIndian，whichdisplayedasa trophyofgoodmarksmanship. Mark Twain. Experience as a Mississippi River Pilot. In my preceding articles I have tried,BYgoingintotheminuteofthescienceofpiloting,tocarrythereaderstepbysteptoacomprehensionofwhatthescienceconsistsof;andatthesametimeIhavetriedtoshowhimthatitisaverycuriousandwonderfulscience，too,andveryworthyofhisattention.IfIhaveseemedtolovemysubject，itisnosurprisingthing,forsIlovetheprofessionfarbetterthananyIhavefollowedsince,andI tookameasurelessprideinit.Thereasonisplain;a pilotin thosedayswastheonlyunfetteredandentirelyindependenthumanbeingthatlivedintheearth.Kingsarebutthehamperedservantsofparliament和people;parliamentssitinchainsoflymokingintheafternoon,themadepreparationsforthenight. Itmustbe rememberedthattheboyswerenowaconsiderabledistancefromhome.Onaccountofthecurrent,therafthadtobeanchoredalongsidethebankoftheriver.wasfrozenuprememberthatin thosehundreddollarswasasaconceivable splendor.shoregotsuchpayasthardiedtheyweremightilyWhenpilotsfromeitherwanderedinto oursmalltheywere soughtbythe fairest,andtreatedwithLyinginportunderwhetherwhichmanypilotsgrewappreciated;especiallyintheMissouriRiverthattrade(Kansastimehundreddollarsa trip,vitalenttoabouteighteenamonth.Hereisacommenday.Achapoutofthistwitha littlestern-wheelcoupleofornateandDriveripilots: “Gentlemen，I'vegottripfortheup-countryyouaboutamonth.Hebel!” “EighteenhunderdollopHeavensandearthboat，letmehaveyourvivid!” Iwillremark.inpassippi stamboymenwilelandsmen’soy(andinina degree),accordingtotheboatyhewereon.wasaproudthingtobebuchsuchastatelycraftasthattheGrandTurk.Neggerhands,andbarbersbelbowesweredistinguishedtheirgradeoflife,andawareofthatfact.too.oncegaveoffenceatamOreleansbyputtingonanFinallyoneofthemansto himandsaid: “Whoisyou,yanydat’swhatIwanttoknifeTheoffenderwasnotleast,bewalledthrewthatintohisvoice thatheknewhewasno thoseairsonastintcedc” “WhoisI?WhoisImightquickwhoIis!giverstounderstan’data‘do'ondeAleckScott!” Thatwas sufficient. The barber ofthe Gspruey young negro，w importantewithbalmycow was greatly courtedwhichhe moved.ThepopulationOfNewOrleansgiventoflirtingattwilmentofthebackstreetsandheard somethinglifetimeone evening,在oneofAmiddle-agednegro The clash of fire-arms, and the rattle of pans and kettles seemed to put new life into the cayuse, and it took Sam through the air at a fearful speed. He strained every muscle to keep right end up. His gun lit out in the brush, and the spoons and weapons of war jolted out of his belt and dropped behind like chaff from the rear end of a fanning mill. The main stays to the pack on the cayuse gave way, and buckets, bags, blankets, kettles, tinware, boots and other ietas, rattled along the route in an unharmonious manner, such as the wild woods of Western Washington never heard before. Sam didn't time himself. He just hung, as for dear life, to that rope, and kept a sharp look-out for stumps and mudholes along the road. The poor fellow succeeded in getting the rope untied from his body. But still he held on, as he says, until he "kicked one foot clean out of the shoe;" and then the cord slipped through his hands, and the cayuse disappeared from view. They encountered no difficulty in tracking the pony. Here the sod was torn up; there laid a sack, or a handful of beans; and now and then a piece of blanket was waving from a protruding limb. When the horse had run about half a mile further, it got entangled in the rope and tent-cloth so thoroughly that it stopped and quieted down. The boys captured the horse, and a council of war was immediately called. "What a glorious thing," said Sam, "that his head was not turned toward town!" George Blankership, his companion, agreed that their good luck in getting the horse again, was owing entirely to the way its head was pointed when it first took fright. "What was the matter with him, anyhow!" asked George. "He got scared, and ran off," replied Sam. "I'd give him a good thrashing," George said, "and learn him a lesson." "I don't want to whip him, this time," said Sam, in a persuasive manner. "I saw a yaller jacket fooling about him. May he be stung." And this argument was conclusive. The boys packed their goods on the pony again; and Sam took the precaution to fasten the rope to the bit, this time. As soon as the line of march had been taken up again, the cayuse began to kick and plunge ahead. "By thunder!" exclaimed Sam, "he's trying the yaller jacket dodge now, sure!" And Sam, with a brush in his hand, and by going into the minute of the science of piloting, to carry the reader step by step to a comprehension of what the science consists of; and at the same time I have tried to show him that it is a very curious and wonderful science, too, and very worthy of his attention. If I have seemed to love my subject, it is no surprising thing, for I love the profession far better than any I have followed since, and I took a measureless pride in it. The reason is plain; a pilot in those days was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth. Kings are but the hampered servants of parliament and people; parliaments sit in chains forged by their constituency; the editor of a newspaper cannot be independent, but must work with one hand tied behind him by party and patrons and be content to utter only half or two-thirds of his mind; no clergyman is a free man and may speak the whole truth, regardless of his parish's opinions; writers of all kinds are manacled servants of the public. We write frankly and fearlessly, but then we "modify" before we print. In truth every man, woman and child has a master and worries and frets in servitude; but in the day I write of, the Mississippi pilot had none. The Captain could stand upon the hurricane deck, in the pomp of a brief authority, and give him five or six orders, while the vessel backed into the stream, and then that skipper's reign was over. The moment that the boat was under way in the river, she was under the sole and unquestioned control of the pilot. He could do with her exactly as he pleased, run her when and whither he chose, and tie her up to the bank whenever his judgment said that course was the best. His movements were entirely free; he consulted no one, he received commands from nobody, he promptly resented even the merest suggestions. Indeed, the law of the United States forbade him to listen to commands or suggestions, rightly considering that the pilot necessarily knew better how to handle the boat than anybody could tell him. So here was the novelty of a king without a keeper, an absolute monarch who was absolute in sober truth, and not by fiction of words. I have seen a boy of eighteen taking a great steamer serenely into what seemed actual destruction, and the aged captain standing mutely by, filled with apprehension, but powerless to interfere. His interference in that particular instance might have been an excellent thing, but to permit it would have been to establish a most pernicious precedent. It will easily be guessed, considering the pilot's boundless authority, that he was a great personage in the old steamboating days. He was treated with "Who is I? Who is I? mighty quick who I is! gers to understan' dat do' on de Aleck Scott!" That was sufficient. The barber of the G sprue young negro, who portance with balmy coy was greatly courted which he moved. The population of New Orle given to flirting at twilight of the back streets and heard something like one evening, in one A middle-aged negro her head through a b she shouted (very willing th should hear and envy), come in de house dis out dah foolin' long w an' heath's de barber off wants to converse wide Monthly. LIFE'S LESSONS—F more interesting than t first intense strains of It may be a new cider new newspaper. It is that man's life. He lives one. Old, trite proverb startling meanings. Men and all things in light. He judges all men in regard to the accord one, supreme design. Time the stars in their him; then the very m direction, and pushes against this tottering wall and a thousand accident He does not know until with what concentration those days of beginning himself and makes plea absorption; and me another and younger with the old, worn out looks on with the same half-cynical interest with married couple content people who have just Seribner's Monthly. A contemporary case of favors we have attack might have been patient well in a few d刊 article of medicine, by n ing and free use of leu The virtue of this art tacks and incipient favor with the heat results: its use as a preventive IM GAZ SUPPLEMENT. ANAHEIM, CAL., AUGUST 21, 1875. marked courtesy by the captain, and marked deference by all the officers, and this deferential spirit was quickly communicated to the passengers, too. I think pilots were about the only people I ever knew who failed to show, in some degree, embarrassment in the presence of traveling foreign princes. But then, people in one's own grade of life are not usually embarrassing objects. By long habit, pilots came to put their wishes in the form of commands. It "gravels" me, to this day, to put my will in the shape of a request, instead of launching it in the crisp language of an order. In those old days, to load a steamboat at St. Louis, take her to New Orleans and back, and discharge cargo, consumed about twenty-five days, on an average. Seven or eight of these days the boat spent at the wharves of St. Louis and New Orleans, and every soul on board was hard at work, except the two pilots; they did nothing but play the gentleman, up town, and received the same wages for it as if they had been on duty. The moment the boat touched the wharf at either city, they were ashore; and they were not likely to be seen again till the last bell was ringing and everything in readiness for another voyage. When a captain got hold of a pilot of particularly high reputation, he took pains to keep him. When wages were four hundred dollars a month on the Upper Mississippi, I have known a captain to keep such a pilot in idleness, under full pay, three months at a time, while the river was frozen up. And one must remember that in those cheap times four THE FIRESIDE: Crying Bahen In Faith Rochester's Home Topics, in the American Agriculturist, we find the following: A young mother and a neighbor just called in a moment to ask me: "Did you ever give soothing syrup to any of your children?"—"Never!"—"I didn't know but I had better get some for my baby, I can't bear to hear him cry so." It is certainly very hard for the mother to bear, and it must be hard for the baby, but soothing syrup wouldn't help either of them in the end. The baby is only three weeks old, and during the last week, since the mother dismissed her hired girl, and began to take care of her little family, the baby has cried a great deal, generally resting pretty well at night, however. The parents have rocked it and walked with it, and the little thing wants to be tended in some way almost constantly. I asked if there seemed to be any danger of a rupture from its crying. Since no danger appears, I could only advise the mother to keep as still as possible, and try time and patience instead of soothing syrup. The Agriculturist quoted a statement from the California Medical Gazette, a few years ago, that this popular syrup contains a grain of morphine to an ounce of the syrup, so that the dose for a child three months old, is equal to ten drops of laudanum. In San Francisco, where about 100,000 bottles of soothing syrup were sold annually, it was also the case that one-third of all the babies there died under the age of two years. Soothsie Origin of the Express Business Travelers on the Long Island Sound of about thirty-seven years ago might have observed on board the steamer than running between Providence and New York an under-sized, delicately built, sungline-looking young man who accompanied the vessel on alternate trips, and constantly carried in his hand a small carpet-bag of half a bushel capacity. He was William F. Harnden, and his bag contained the beginning of the express forwarding business of the United States, which, with the exception of the railway and telegraphs, now surpasses all other private enterprises in the world. Born at Reading, Massachusetts, in 1812, he was employed as conductor of the first passenger train that ran in New England, and was afterward promoted to the position of ticket agent on the Boston and Worcester Railway. The sedentary desk-work did not suit him, however, and in 1837 he came to New York in search of more congenial employment. At the corner of Wall and Pearl streets stood the old Tontine Coffee-house a famous resort for the merchants and shipowners of those days, and in connection with it here was an admirable news-room—a sort of Lloyd's or Garraways—conducted by James W. Hale, a local celebrity, who afterward extended his fame by promoting a cheap postal system in opposition to the Government. Mr. Hale was a man of varied experience and a genial disposition. He was one of the most active men of his day, and Harnden went to him for advice in seeking employment. Hale became interested in When a captain got hold of a pilot of particularly high reputation, he took pains to keep him. When wages were four hundred dollars a month on the Upper Mississippi, I have known a captain to keep such a pilot in idleness, under full pay, three months at a time, while the river was frozen up. And one must remember that in those cheap times four hundred dollars was a salary of almost inconceivable splendor. Few men on shore got such pay as that, and when they did they were mightily looked up to. When pilots from either end of the river wandered into our small Missouri village, they were sought by the best and the fairest, and treated with exalted respect. Lying in port under wages was a thing which many pilots greatly enjoyed and appreciated; especially if they belonged in the Missouri River in the heyday of trade (Kansas times), and got nine hundred dollars a trip, which was equivalent to about eighteen hundred dollars a month. Here is a conversation of that day. A chap out of the Illinois River, with a little stern-wheel tub, accosts a couple of ornate and gilded Missouri River pilots: "Gentlemen, I've got a pretty good trip for the up-country, and shall want you about a month. How much will it be?" "Eighteen hundred dollars apiece." "Heavens and earth! You take my boat, let me have your wages, and I'll divide!" I will remark, in passing, that Mississippi steamboat men were important in landsmen's oyes (and in their own too, in a degree), according to the dignity of the boat they were on. For instance, it was a proud thing to be of the crew of such a stately craft as the Aleck Scott or the Grand Turk. Negro firemen, deckhands, and barbers belonging to those boats were distinguished personages in their grade of life, and they were well aware of that fact, too. A stalwart darkey once gave offense at a negro ball in New Orleans by putting on a good many airs. Finally one of the managers bustled up to him and said: "Who is you, any way? Who is you? dat's what I wants to know!" The offender was not disconcerted in the least, but swelled himself up and threw that into his voice which showed that he knew he was not putting on all those airs on a stinted capital. "Who is I? Who is I? I let you know mighty quick who I is! I want you niggers to understan' dat I fires de middle do' on de Aleck Scott!" That was sufficient. The barber of the Grand Turk was a spruce young negro, who aired his importance with balmy complacency, and was greatly courted by the circle in which he moved. The young colored population of New Orleans were much given to flirting at twilight on the pavement of the back streets. Somebody saw and heard something like the following, one evening, in one of those localities. A middle-aged negro woman projected asked if there seemed to be any danger of a rupture from its crying. Since no danger appears, I could only advise the mother to keep as still as possible, and try time and patience instead of soothing syrup. The Agriculturalist quoted a statement from the California Medical Gazette, a few years ago, that this popular syrup contains a grain of morphine to an ounce of the syrup, so that the dose for a child three months old, is equal to ten drops of laudanum. In San Francisco, where about 100,000 bottles of soothing syrup were sold annually, it was also the case that one-third of all the babies there died under the age of two years. Soothing syrup, indeed! A neighbor recommends to this young mother some kind of patent pills, which had a wonderfully quieting influence upon his babies years ago; but none of us know what these sugar pills contain. Others would recommend, some one thing, and some another, all with a view to quieting the baby. The child needs a healthy mother more than anything else, and its mother wrongs it by her well-meant efforts to do more work than her present state of health will warrant. Calves and colts are not so treated, and they have no need of drops and syrups. If baby cries, it is probably uncomfortable in some way, though I suspect it has already learned to want "tending." I can hear my neighbor's little one, and it seldom sounds to me like a cry of positive pain. If my own babies only cried like that, it seems to me that I could bear it more easily when they get into a crying spell. I wonder if it can possibly be because this one is not my child and does not pull upon my heart strings? No. I hardly think that explains the difference for I was glad to find that my care of my neighbor's new baby, while its mother was unable to dress it, called out the same tender, motherly and worshipful feeling toward the innocent new-comer; that I had felt for my own babies. I have noticed a great difference in the crying of children. Some babies, and some older children, when they cannot have what they want, or when they feel unwell, keep up such a moderate kind of "boo-boo," that no one is much affected thereby. Other babies cry with all their might, going so nearly frantic if their pain of body or mind is not allayed, that all in the vicinity are nearly driven frantic also. This difference depends much upon temperament, but sometimes it seems to be the result, in considerable measure, of different methods of baby-culture. But oh dear! how can we just the right way each time? A baby is such a complex thing! It has in it the blood of so many ancestors, all of which may modify its mental and physical constitution in ways we little dream of—for I have little faith in the rather common latter-day doctrine, that parents are wholly responsible for the peculiar organizations of their children. "What is the matter with that child: that it cries so?" — "Firstly, is it a sticking pin?" — "No." — "Has it been burnt in any way?" — "No." — "Is it colic?" — If so, it draws up its legs and inclines to double itself together while crying, and perhaps its feet are cold at the same time. Warmth by external application of warm cloths over the bowels, or simply a warm hand underneath, as the little one lies face downward is the simplest and best search of more congenial employment. At the corner of Wall and Pearl streets stood the old Tontine Coffee-house a famous resort for the merchants and shipowners of those days, and in connection with it here was an admirable newsroom—a sort of Lloyd's or Garraway's—conducted by James W. Hale; a local celebrity, who afterward extended his fame by promoting a cheap postal system in opposition to the Government. Mr. Hale was a man of varied experience and a genial disposition. He was one of the most active men of his day, and Harnden went to him for advice in seeking employment. Hale became interested in him, and in the course of a few days advised him to establish himself as an expressman between New York and Boston—a business never before transacted and a name never before assumed. As there have been other claimants to the honor of having originated the enterprise, and as Mr. Hale is still living, I will repeat a statement which he made to me in July last. There was never a day, he said, that inquiries were not made at the news-room for some person going to Boston or Providence. Some wanted to send small parcels to their friends, others letters or circulars; but the most frequent applicants were money-brokers, who wanted to forward packages of Eastern bank-notes to Boston for redemption. If an acquaintance was found on the boat, he was pounced upon without ceremony, and burdened with the packages, which were sometimes worth many dollars. But if a friend did not appear, the things were often intrusted to entire strangers, with the modest request that they would deliver them immediately after their arrival. Merchants and brokers seeking gratitious transportation for their letters contributed largely to the excitement attending the departure of the steamer, and many persons will remember the nights of anxiety they have passed on the Sound, when such unexpected wealth has been temporarily thrust upon them. "When Harnden called upon me for advice," Mr. Hale stated, "I thought of the daily inquiries made at my office 'Do you know any body going to Boston this evening?' and I immediately advised him to travel between the two cities and do errands for the business men. I also suggested that the new enterprise should be called 'The Express,' which gave the idea of speed, promptitude, and fidelity." Harnden hesitated for several days, doubting whether the scheme would be profitable, but eventually he decided to try it, and bought the historic travelling-bag, which is still preserved in Boston. A small slate for orders was hung in the news-room, and the patrons of that institution were Harnden's chief patrons. The old merchants had become so accustomed to transportation of smaller articles without cost that they did not readily observe the advantages "the express" offered, and at the end of two months Harnden found all his capital absorbed. His receipts were less than his expenses, and he would have discontinued the service had not some friends procured free passages for him on an opposition steamboat. With the passage-money as a subsidy," "the express" prospered, and the business so increased that Harnden soon engaged an assistant—W. H. RIDEING, in Harper's Magazine for Aug.* "Who is it? Who is it? I let you know mighty quick who I is! I want you niggers to understan' dat I fires de middle do' on de Aleck Scott!" That was sufficient. The barber of the Grand Turk was a spruce young negro, who aired his importance with balmy complacency, and was greatly courted by the circle in which he moved. The young colored population of New Orleans were much given to flirting at twilight on the pavement of the back streets. Somebody saw and heard something like the following, one evening, in one of those localities. A middle-aged negro woman projected her head through a broken pane and shouted (very willing that the neighbors should hear and envy), "You Mary Ann, come in de house dis minute! Stannin' out dah foolin' long wid dat low trash, an' heah's de barber off de Gran' Turk wants to converse wid you!"—Atlantic Monthly. Life's Lessons.—For me nothing is more interesting than to see a man in the first intense strains of a new enterprise. It may be a new cider mill; it may be a new newspaper. It is a great crisis in that man's life. He lives thirty days in one. Old, trite proverbs take on new and startling meanings. He looks upon all men and all things in a strange, new light. He judges all men and all things in regard to the accomplishment of his one, supreme design. During a certain time the stars in their courses fight for him; then the very universe changes its direction, and pushes with all its weight against his tottering walls; another change, and a thousand accidents are in his favor. He does not know until years afterward with what concentration he labored in those days of beginning. He smiles at himself and makes pleasant make-shifts and absorption; and now when he sees another and younger person start out with the old, worn out enthusiasm, he looks on with the same half-sympathetic half-cynical interest with which an old married couple contemplates two young people who have just fallen in love—Saribner's Monthly. A contemporary says that in most cases of fevers we have no doubt that an attack might have been prevented and the patient well in a few days, without a particle of medicine, by rest, a partial fasting, and free use of limone and lemonade. The virtue of this article in billions at tacks and incipient fevers has been tested with the best results, and we command its use as a preventive of these diseases. What is the matter with that child: that it cries so?"—"Firstly, it is a sticking pin?"—"No."—"Has it been burnt in any way?"—"No."—"Is it colic?"—If so, it draws up its legs and inclines to double itself together while crying, and perhaps its feet are cold at the same time. Warmth by external application of warm cloths over the bowels, or simply a warm hand underneath, as the little one lies face downward, is the simplest and best cure for colic, and a gentle patting upon back at the same time may help on the cure. Don't try the various teas so generally recommended. If you begin on one, you will probably have to follow it up with another. Not a drop of any kind of "herb tea" have any of my babies taken. But what is the matter with the screaming baby? Ear ache perhaps, as several times with mine after the windy weather lately. Get a piece of cotton wool—pull it out of a bed quilt or comfortable, if you have no other—and wet it with sweet oil or glycerine, and stuff it into each ear of the sufferer to soften the wax, the hardening of which, from undue exposure to cold or wind, causes the ache. If the baby is teething and its gums are troublesome, it may be best to call the doctor, but look carefully to its diet and keep its nerves as quiet as possible. If you cannot find the source of its trouble, and it still cries, wet a clean napkin or soft towel in cool (not cold) water, and lay that gently over its head and forehead, and possibly it will stop crying at once and drop asleep in a few minutes. I have tried this more than once, with success. After all, the baby was only hungry, and having asked in vain, by all the pretty ways of asking that it knows, it has cried out in despair or ruge, or earnest entreaty, while it has been tossed and trotted, and chirruped to, and sung to, and dosed perhaps, all for nothing. You thought it was not time for it to be hungry, but its last meal may have been spoiled in some way, so that it got little, or was obliged to throw it up almost as soon as swallowed. But do not offer it the breast until yds are sure that something else is not its trouble. It may be suffering from too much food already. It is set a very simple and easy thing to bring up a modern baby in the midst of modern civilization. Nevertheless, it is the most interesting work and study that I know of at present. Train and this wait for no man. An Australian lawyer—The keenness of the Philadelphia lawyer has passed into a proverb. The following, from the Melbourne Argus, shows that he has a rival in his Australian brother: "A gentleman of the legal profession, at one of the great mining centres, having spent a gaudy evening at a leading hotel, found the fresh air too much for him. Instead of reaching the bosom of his family, he gravitated to the lock-up, with the much needed assistance of a servant of the Queen in full uniform. The lock-up keeper didn't know him and consequently couldn't send for his friends to hail him out, as frequently done by those tender-hearted officers of justice. So he was allowed to sleep until seven in the morning, when he was aroused and asked his name, which he promptly said was Johnson." He obtained soap, water and a clothes-brush, and was refreshed by a cup of tea. He then proposed to the lock-up keeper that the officials should walk beside him to the police court. When the time came this was done, and by keeping the officer in earnest converse, it appeared as though the lawyer was engaged upon some business before the court and when the name of Johnson was called, he calmly rose, and said, 'I appear for the prisoner your worship.' "What!" said the police magistrate; "do you deny that he was drunk?" "Oh no," he replied; "he was very drunk, but is very sorry for it." "Five shillings, or six hours' imprisonment," said the police magistrate. "I will pay his fine myself," said the ready-witted gentleman, who in this instance showed that the man who is his own lawyer hasn't always a fool for his client." San Francisco puts in a claim now as a landing manufacturing city. Her capital invested in manufacturing industries is over $50,000,000. Dio Lewis, the man with the decayed stomach, says lemonade is unhealthy. GAZETTE. NO. 44. Business. Island Sound of ago might have runer then runand New York built, sanguinecompanied the and constantly all carpet-bag of lew was William contained the forwarding business, which, with away and teleother private Massachusetts, in conductor of that ran in New promoted to on the Bosway. The sedent him, however, New York in employment. Pearl streets coffee-house a fachants and shipIn connection amirable newsGarraway's— Hale, a local conaded his fame postal system in ment. Mr. Hale experience and a was one of the y, and Harnden in seeking emterested in Getting His Picture Taken. A ruralist went into a Saratoga photograph gallery, the other day; and was apparently happy viewing the pictures that covered the walls. He was asked if he desired his picture taken. "Don't mind if I do," he replied; and he was placed in charge of the operator. Being questioned as to the kind or quality of picture, he believed "That it makes no difference to me." He was seated in a chair, and seemed highly amused in having "My head drove back into that pitchfork." The operator told him that that was a head-rest, and said "Sit quietly, for I'll be back in just a moment." The ruralist took a chew of tobacco and then inspected the head rest to see what kind of a "Consarned thing it was, anyway." Hearing the operator returning, he shot back into the chair and bent one ear double frying to get his head back into the rest; but he wouldn't mind if the operator didn't miss it. The camera was pulled around, and about one-quarter of the operator and a mysterious black cloth disappeared for a moment in it. The ruralist feared that it was dangerous to be safe, as "Look out there, Cap, you've got that pointed right at me." It took five minutes to prove to him that his life was not in danger. Everything being in readiness, the operator said: "Now look right here; raise your chin a little; look your pleasantest; you can wink, but you must not move—now hush!" He also told him that it would take a trifle longer than usual, as it was cloudy. The photographer, with his back turned, was looking at his watch; while the one being The Danger in Using Chloral. The London Labor prints a warning against the habitual use of the new fashionable hypnotic chloral. Behavior is does not produce the immediate well consequences due to opium. It is a far more powerful sedative than bromide of potassium, it has become popular, and is even, as the Latest deplores, largely recommended by medical men. It has taken its place in the medicine chest and on the draining-table, and is often employed without advice or precaution. In some cases the use of it has resulted in death in healthy persons, and in other cases its action has given place to diseases which have proved fatal, although without its aid they would not have done so. But these cases are too rare to have had the effect on the public which in professional eyes should be assigned to them. Still, where no such immediately serious consequences ensue or are to be apprehended, the habitual use of chloral cannot fail to be attended by injury to the nervous system. As the Latest explains, in sleep the sensory recipient and lower motor centers are separated from those of consciousness and will with which during the waking state they are in such close connection. This separation can only take place under certain conditions which vary much in different individuals. Chloral introduces an artificial influence, and separates forcibly those functions of the nervous system which would otherwise have been linked together. It stills unpleasant emotion—removes disagreeable sensation—paralyzes the will. This can hardly occur repeatedly without some pulled around, and about one-quarter of the operator and a mysterious black cloth disappeared for a moment in it. The ruralist feared that it was dangerous to be safe, as "Look out there, Cap, you've got that pointed right at me." It took five minutes to prove to him that his life was not in danger. Everything being in readiness, the operator said: "Now look right here; raise your chin a little; look your pleasantest; you can wink, but you must not move—now hush!" He also told him that it would take a trifle longer than usual, as it was cloudy. The photographer, with his back turned, was looking at his watch; while the one being photographed, immovable as a rock, gazed into the camera's disk. But what thoughts ran through his head, and what he suffered none but he can tell. That ear throbbed with pain, and he would have given a dozen of eggs to scratch his head; would have sacrificed five cents to have a chance to spit. The toe that he froze in February suddenly woke up, and he was afraid a buzzing fly he heard would promenade down his nose. His heart seemed to burst, and he would take his oath that each eye was on fire. What if he had lost his pocketbook, or should miss the train. Years of thought whirled round his brain, and he wondered if there was a spark of compassion left in that operator. It was almost a living death; but, at last, at the end of just thirty-five seconds, the operator "Shut that gol blasted thing up and impudently told me 'That'll do.'" The picture was shortly mounted and in the pocket of the ruralist, who started to go without settling for the same. In answer to a question he said he had forgotten nothing, and was completely thunderstruck when the picture was referred to, exclaiming: "You asked me, didn't you—I's posed it was your treat all the time." The picture was made a present to him, as he had just money enough to take him home.—Saratogian. Value of Life In Russia. Last month the military tribunal of Warsaw tried a case which, in England, would have produced an immense sensation, and which is well worth noticing for the extraordinary state of feeling which it reveals in society. A staff captain, one Karpoff, was indicted for the willful murder of a rural magistrate named Kozinenko. He had gone to the village where the Judge's carriage must pass, and deliberately shot him without warning, at the risk of killing the secretary by his side instead: The wounded man got out. Karpoff fired again, rolled with his victim into a ditch, and when he saw that life was gone professed "his heart lighter," and went to give himself up. He was sentenced to Siberia, but the court will intercede with the Emperor, so that he will only be confined in a fortress for two years, without degradation or loss of any right. Now, this savage tragedy and absurdly mild punishment are the result of that antagonism between the military men and the civilians which still characterizes Russian life and Russian military views about dueling. The original cause of quarrel, or rather the pretext, was a miserable question of a chair for a lady at a ball. The two men had hated each other, and the civilian seems to have been in the habit of saying bitter things about be attended by injury to the nervous system. As the Lancet explains, in sleep the sensory recipient and lower motor centers are separated from those of consciousness and will with which during the waking state they are in such close connection. This separation can only take place under certain conditions which vary much in different individuals. Chloral introduces an artificial influence, and separates forbibly those functions of the nervous system which would otherwise have been linked together. It still unpleasant emotion—removes disagreeable sensation—paralyzes the will. This can hardly occur repeatedly without some permanent effect. Each region of its influence presents an example of perverted action. The will becomes weakened; emotional manifestations are in the chloral-drinker more easily produced; the evidence of the senses is perverted, and their action is no longer under the same control of associated impressions. All influences of a depressing character are felt more keenly. The sufferer becomes "nervous," emotional, hysterical. Neuralgia and other sensory disturbances become frequent, and with them various peretic phenomena, depending chiefly on defective will. Ultimately still graver consequences may result. Delirium, imbecility, and paralysis of the pharynx and osophagus are among the symptoms which have occurred in recorded cases, and which have ceased when the habitual dose was discontinued. All the time the supposed need of the sedative increases, the craving for it may become as intense, as intolerable, as in the case of opium—the patient moaning for the chloral, which he can hardly swallow, and sleep gradually becomes almost impossible, except under artificial influences. Influence of Imagination. We have before spoken in our columns of the power of the imagination in the stimulation of disease, but it is a curious subject and one daily receiving exemplification. The instance of a soldier in the French service, condemned to die, and who was handed over to the surgeons as a living subject, is recalled to us at this moment. The man who was enjoying perfect health was placed in an hospital, and told that all the patients about him were suffering with small pox. This was not true. There was no such disease in the institution, and yet it is a well-authenticated fact that the condemned soldier was soon taken violently sick and displayed all the symptoms of the supposed disease. He was removed from the hospital undecided, got well immediately, and was consigned to prison to suffer the punishment awarded to him by the court. A similar illustration, much nearer home, has lately occurred in Indianapolis. A young man in that city went into a drug store, with a dolorous countenance, and with a deep sigh asked for fifty cents' worth of strychnine. The druggist observed his mood, and quietly seemed to fill his order in good faith, but in reality gave him a harmless potion, which the young fellow swallowed with a theoretical flourish, exclaiming as he did so that his affections had been blighted, and he "had taken the poison to get even." He would not live to be so used. Life was a blank, of patrons. The so accustomed war articles with readily observe less" offered, and Haruden found His receipts is, and he would service had not free passages for swamboat. With subsidy," "the business so soon engaged an in Harper's A similar illustration, much nearer home, has lately occurred in Indianapolis. A young man in that city went into a drug store, with a dolorous countenance, and wish a deep sigh asked for fifty cents' worth of strychnine. The druggist observed his mood, and quietly seemed to fill his order in good faith, but in reality gave him a harmless potion, which the young fellow swallowed with a theatrical flourish, exclaiming as he did so that his affections had been blighted, and he "had taken the poison to get even." He would not live to be so used. Life was a blank, and so on. The druggist told him that there were not fifteen minutes' life in him, and that he was already beginning to fade about the eyes! At this information the youth sank to the floor, and the aspiration streamed from his forehead. He was becoming very sick, bodily and mentally, and actually appeared to be dying. At this juncture the medicine man himself became alarmed at the effect of the dose, and examined the jar from which he had taken the potion. It was sugar of milk sure enough, perfectly harmless, and yet it was producing spasms! What was to be done? As a last resort the disconsolete youth was informed that he had taken no poison, but in place of it a harmless dose, a bushel of which would not kill. This information put an end to the dying business on short meter. The patient revived instantly, got up and walked out of the store with a good round oath, declaring that he would yet be even with the world at large somebody in particular. A physician present said that unless he had been undecided the youth would have died in a quarter of an hour!—New York Weekly. The new Danube has become the center of attraction for the Viennese, especially on Sundays, when the banks are crowded. The stream after its first entrance has taken to its new bed quite kindly. The remains of the two dykes are fast disappearing, and the work of facing the banks with stone all along the side and three-fourths English miles, which is the extent of the cutting, can proceed without hindrance. The view of the majestic stream seems to have reconciled people to the miscalculations of the engineers. The problem, however, which the engineers undertook to solve will not resolve its full solution till the old bed is closed effectively; "which will not be done in a hurry," owing to the depth of water therein. Then is gold.