AT — ” —Y -_ " i —————
1 1
and troubled. ‘Can’t you look at it Bayers of Old Books. the Tartars certain men, honored above
fas I do--not even for my sake?’ he | all others, being idol priests from India,
I! asked. { | persons of deep wisdom, well conducted |
ane
WPS TTY ~
¥
i : : 3 our is
nights and listening to the rain on the A Mystery of the ¥isins,
roof.”
TRY RIVER OF LIFE.
all Looks come
The more we live, more briel appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
Aud vears like passing ages.
The ladon
ire §
Steal
Al
ie current of our youth,
in yet disorders,
ugering like a river smooth
or its grassy borders.
ssi
Bat the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow’s shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
vs
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as wo near the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid ?
It may be strange, yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness ;
And those of youth a seeming length
Proportioned to their sweetness.
a a
AUNT ABBY'S LITTLE NOMAXOE,
In hunting up my friends at Wells-
march, I had occasion to inquire my
way of an old woman digging potatoes
in a4 weedy little patch by the roadside.
She looked up as I spoke, and leaned
2+ hoe, tall and gaunt and some-
rim, but with a singularly lucid
idly expression in her large gray
eyes. She was coarsely clad, her thin,
aray hal short, was covered by a
man’s straw hat, and she had the mus-
cular brown hands of a man. Yet,
when she paused in her potato digging
to answer my questions, it was with an
%r of quiet intelligence and a simple
ace of utterance hardly to have been
pected from one of her sex engaged
oarse an occupation,
spoken, she stooped to pick
put into a peck basket the pota-
ar hoe had uncovered, and I rode
on. but could not forbear looking back
and gz her as she rose up with
her it burden aud walked away,
across the weedy patch, towards the
door of a lonely little house near by.
The sun bad gone down, heavy shadows
{ell across the fields from wooded hills
bevond, the night crickets had struck
up melancholy notes, and in the
aspect of the woman entering her soli-
tary door, at that hour, there was
something so sad that it made my heart
ache.
Tl
iil
Ol
nd k
Ir, Cul
Jp and
toes h
walcl
that
LIT
peture haunted me, and on
reaching my friend’s house 1 spoke of
it. “7 was directed,” 1 said **by the
old creature, working in the
potato patch, and living in
] old house 1 ever
1
t little
e ]
lon 1168
lonelies:
the
saw |
onelies
.'* said my host with a look of
, “you have seen Aunt Abby!
ite an extraordinary charac-
ittle as you would think it, to
ng potato’s for to-mor-
kfast, she is a real heroine-
roine of a genuine romance.”
He told me something of her story,
which excited still further my curiosity
and sympathy, and I expressed a desire
to make her acquaintance, That could
be easily managed, he sald; and, driv-
ing roe about the country the next day
he tool » to her house,
row’s
the he
1 her trimming a bed of old
i
flowers at her and as
to the gate spoke to
y towards us with a sprig
» in her coarse brown hand,
v,”’ said my compaaion,
‘“‘here’ d of mine I want you
know.’ An he proceeded to int:
me in a way which the
at! {
door ;
and
Td
ity
{ books get accustomed to and
learn to endure without blushing.
‘I have heard of you," she said, giv-
ing my hand a cordial grasp, and look-
ing into my eyes with an earnest, al-
most ardent, expression. ‘Come in,
wom't you? It’s a long time" —turning
to my friend—*'sinee yon have made
me a call,”
He excused himself, but said that I
could go in if I chose, and wait till he
returned for me, after transacting a lit.
tle business which he had in view. The
arrangement suited me admirably, and
as she repeated her invitation I alighted
and entered the gate.
“I hear that you live quite alone
here.”’ I remarked, as she preceded me
along the narrow grassy path towards
the door.
“Alene ? Dear me, no!" she replied
cheerfully, turning to face me in the
midst of her little flower
“Here are some of my companions,”
and she pointed out the pinks and
pansies and phlox and hollyhocks,
which grew in an almost wild state,
along with fennel and caraway and
sage, in the tangle but well-weeded
beds. “But I have other and better
companions than these,
and sunshine and grass and frees and
OTS ¢
a body be alone ?*°
“I quoted Emerson’s saying: ‘‘If a
man would be alone, let him look at the
stars,”
“Why, bless the good man!” she said,
“when 1 look at the stars I am some-
times least 2lone! It seems as if they
brought the hosts of Heaven near to
me. But come in, come in.”
She ushered me into a very plain but
neat little sitting-room, with a rag car-
pel (ptobably of her own braiding) on
the floor, a few books on hanging
shelves, and cn the walls some cheap
prints which I fear would have made
the apostle of modern culture smile.
in
side table, after giving me a seat in her
cushioned arm chair, “Some of them
you know,” she added, with a smile
which lighted up her brown features
with beautiful benignity,
It could have hardly A” by accident
that she let the pages fall open in my
hands at a place where my eye fell
upon a litle scrap of verses which I
knew indeed.
“1 don’t know how to compliment an
author,” she said, seating herself on
I am glad of an opportunity to tell you
that that poem has been a great comfort
to me, a very great comfort. I cut it from
a newspaper a few years ago, and I
fave read it over and over again until
I know it by heart. 1 love to repeat it
10 myself when I am lying awake
Her eyes glistened as she spoke,
having written a few words which had
| afforded solace to this lonely creature
made me humbly grateful, My vanity
| was not in the least moved, and I can
relate the circumstance without vanity
now ; for, alas, my little piece was
| pasted on a page with others which she
| seemed to regard as equally precious,
{ although they were not literature, any
| more than the sentimental prints on
{ the wall were art. It was evident that
{ she viewed poems and pictures, not
with a cultivated or eritical eye, but
| wholly from a spiritual and sympathet-
ic attitude of mind; prizing what ap-
pealed to her emotional and especially
to her religious nature, without being
| mueh disturbed by weak lines, bad
rhymes and other imperfections. How
some of my msthetic friends would have
scorned to see their verses included in
such a serap-book ! But after all, there
is something in life better than culture
and I would not for anything have said
a word to lessen the satisfaction old
Aunt Abby found in the feeblest of that
trash,
of her early
easy to lead her to speak
life,
“1 have heard something of you
history,” I said, and it makes me won-
der 1f you have never regretted the very
great saerifices you once made,’
Her large, gray eyes beamed upon
me mistily. *‘I have asked myself the
same question many times, For it was
a sacrifice!” she said, trembling. “‘Bat
the answer deep down in my heart is
always no. We must live according to
our light. I lived according to mine. I
could not do differently then; I couldn’
do differently now, if the thing was to
do over.’
“I hear that
spects, a worthy
her on. And
Abby, were you I
18
1
he was, in many re-
man,’’ I said, *‘tolead
lI me frankly, Aunt
t ERY ry
very stron
te
3r ied)
tached to each other?’
“There was only one thing in he
and earth that 1 loved better t
loved Aaron NEWere
with emotion. ‘*‘But there were o
things that he loved better
loved me. Too many! too many!’
“What were they?" I asked
“His and
worldly possessi As you say,
he was a worthy Few people
blamed him, but a great many blamed
me. That was what made it so hard
for me to do as I did. My friends called
me foolish and overserupulous ; while
he acted as so many other
have acted in his place,’
She wiped her eves and
answer to my «guestions:
engaged, and were to be married in a
few weeks, believe there never
Deems, she
a
ti
vaan
¢ and his
Ease
men
and I 1
was a young couple with happier pros-
pects, until he came to me one evening
and told me of an exciting event. He
had a rich uncle who
have af
dishon
leaving
Aaron see
fort
h
evervi
mea qui
une,
‘But,
HOW TDL
Aare
bu there is
$
Ts arto ores
ihe VOT MES SX
had his Ble
3 not his enemy,’ 1
said; ‘and I bave had the story from
your own lips. You always condemned
that transaction; and I never heard
you speak of him with any respect,
hope,’ said I, ‘you are not going to
let the fact that he has made you his
heir change your ideas of right and
wrong.’
“He laughed in a way 1 couldn’t
like. ‘I have no idea on the subject,’
{he said. ‘All I know is, the property
is mine now,’
“ ‘But you can’t
it,’ I said.”’
“Why not ?’ was his answer, in a
tone that astonished and grieved me.
| *I never heard that my uncle did any-
thing illegal ; the property is lawfully
mine,’
“ ‘Why, Aaron!’ I remonstrated, ‘I
have heard you say yourself that he
was shrewd enough to keep clear of
| the law, but does that make his wicked -
ness any less wicked ? And what if the
property is lawfully yours, if it is not
yours by absolute right, can you accept
in?
“What I said disturbed him ; and I
{ could see that a dark shadow was com:
ing between us—the first that had ever
crossed our path. He argued that it
wasn’t for us to inquire too closely into
i his moral right to the property, since
| nobody could say that his hands bad
| been stained in the getting of it; while
| I maintained that it was his duty to
find out just how far the widow and or-
| phans had been wronged, and make
i restitution out of his uncle’s wealth.
| * Good heavens! Abby,’ said he
| according to what folks say, it would
| take the bulk of the estate,’
| + Tet it take the bulk of it,’ 1 said ;
| let it take every cent ! You don’t want
[Some > of money, no matter how you
Welle
take itl and enjoy
come by it, that belongs to anybody
i else,’
* tXo,’ he said, ‘If il’s a claim any-
body can prove ; but I guess if every
one was to be as particular as to the
way their estate, real and personal, was
| come by, from generation to generation,
| few would keep what they've got very
| long. I homor your principles, Abby :
| bat, don’t you see, carried out as yon
! would have them, they are utterly ab-
| surd ¥’
| “°F don’t see ity’ I replied. * ‘On the
| contrary, I believe there is a rule of
| absolute right, and we ought to five by
it!
So we argued until he grew very
| much irritated and got up to go.
, 9] don't see the thing as you do,’ he
said, ‘and can’t.’ ’
I “1 am sorry,’ I sald, ‘for it is very
| plain to me, If you can take and enjoy
| property that you know belongs to
| others, you can do what I never can !
never, Aaron Deems |’
| He stood before me, looking pale
“+ {Not even for your sake, Aaron l’ I
said. though my heart was ready to
break. ‘But don’t let us talk of it any
more to-night; I am sure you will think
as I do when you have had time to re-
flect.
* ‘1 hope—I am sure—we shall come
to think alike in so important a matter,
rated from you, Abby I’
«Oh, we can’t be separated, Aaron,’
I said, and clung to him with all my
heart. But there was a coldness in his
good-bye, and I felt that awful shadow
between us after he was gone, 1
couldn’t endure that the man I loved
should take such views of right and
wrong, even for a moment.
Well, we had may talks on the sub-
ject after that; and the more we talked
the colder and "heavier the shadow
grew. He couldn’t give up any part of
what was left him by his uncle; no, not
even for me. And 1 couldn't give up
the light I walked by; no, not even for
him! I couldn't prevent his accepting
| the fruits of his uncle’s dishonesty; and
if I married him I would be a partaker
in the wrong. So it came to this,
+ ¢ Aaron, I said to nm one night, “if
you are determined, then we must part.
I can’t share in any advantage obtained
through your uncle's wrong-doi as
I should have to, by our
Y
vife
nit:
ng;
becoming ¥
love me,’ he said,
0 take back those
hard words,
* « Aaron,’I said, ‘I would take them
back if I conld, for I feel that 1 am
giving up all the world when I give you
up. But I can not give up the spirit of
righteousness in my own soul. Com-
pared with that, O, Aaron,’ I said, ‘how
little seems that which I asked to
give up, me omy, but for your
own conscience and life,’
“Ie was all of a tremble as he
my hand. ‘Abby,’ said he, ‘you are the
girl 1 ever saw, and 1 dot
know but vou are right, All I know is
1 am not up to the sacrifice that seems
$0 easy to you. So I suppose we must
part.”
“And so we parted,
Abby went on, ‘never «
t followed ! 1 torn wit
anguish ; [ was tempted terribly. It
seemed to me that I was giving up all
that was worth living for, I was young
and not bad fond of
oive
not for
+ Le
VWHON
i $ :
DOLIESL $41 1 &
I neve X
an forget the
Wis
#3
looking,
and all beautiful thing
of money ; too
with a
But all that was no
t i How
£)
value .
been pleased life of ease a
joyment,
my attachment
up?
should you?’ sometlh
‘Why can't you do what
any body else would in
place, without any such silly scruples
You can do good with the money, an
30 atone for any sin there may be in ac
cepting it. Don’t throw away yor
Lappiness for an idea.’
“On the other hand, a
id: ‘Walk by the
you.’
am 1
1.
or
give
hing
" Hp
whispered.
v
al - ¥ x . 4
AIMOsL youl
{
i
ir
@# 8a
g or
=
© Why
id
iven
May be 1
I walked by the light
That led me and
world and WAYS,
until twenty years ago, I settled down
in this little house that appeais to you
so lonely, Here 1 have lived ever
since, except for a few weeks every
winter, when I visit friends who would
gladly keep me with them all the time,
But, strange as it may seem, I am
never so happy as when I come back
here to my hermitage—to my birds
Wan,
AY 18, Was
given me,
more out of the
more
is
thoughts,
Aaron? Oh, yes, he lived and was
prospered ip a sense. He had a hand-
some and fashionable wife, and he
grew richer still by some transactions
which some said were too much like his
uncle's. Bat I don't condemn him,
He may have walked by his light, as I
walked by mine. I only know our
walks did not lie together,
And have I never regretted the sac
| rifice I made ? Sometimes when I have
looked upon myself, living alone in
poverty, with these hands hardened by
toll, and without the daily affection
which the heart craves, I have won-
dered and said tomyself : ‘Abby, is it
all a dream ? Wouldn't that other life
have been better for you ?* Bat some-
thing says: ‘No; you couldn’t have
chosen differently.’
"sorrows and heart aches ; but there is
| no loneliness like that of a soul that
has lost its rectitude, and grieved away
the Spirit.
fully, *1 am very well off here, No-
| tional as folks think me, my neighbors
| are very kind ; they come and see me,
{ and lend me books ; every winter they
| bring me fire-wood, and every spring
| they plant my little patch to corn and
| beans and potatoes. Oh! she exclaimed,
| grasping my hand, as 1 rose to take
| at the gate, “I sometimes think there
| isn’t another woman in all the world so
| blessed as 11”
| As I rode away with my friend I once
| more looked back at the little house,
| which did not seem so lonesome to me
now, as [ thought of it peopled with
high and holy thoughts, and filled with
the presence of that heroic woman, to
whom a great light had been given,
with courage and strength to live by
that light.
| A writer in the Popular Scgence
Monthly attributes sea-sickness to an
irritation to the semi-circular canals of
the ear or abdominal viscera, or both,
| which become full of blood and cause
| vomiting, and illustrates the theory b
a detail of interesting facts, and expe
montis,
Persistent people begin their success
| whore others end in failure.
“Where do the old
from? Well, that is a question
requires a long answer. It is
which we are asked a good many times
during the day,” said the proprietor of
a second-hand book store. ‘*“There is a
prevailing idea that most of the books
| npon our shelves are sold to us by des-
{ titute people who take this means of
raising a little cash, but that is true in
a limited number of cases only. 1b 1s
true that people whose fortunes have
suddenly changed for the worse are
ready to sell thelr
many of them. Many bcoks are brought
to us by a class of people who have no
desire to keep them after they have once
been read, The money which they get
for them is spent for others, which in
| turn are sold to us, This system ac-
| counts for many of the new books un-
sold upon our shelves,
“80 many books are now printed and
sold in pamphlet form, however, thatthis
is not done sovoften as formerly, Only
those books which are sold in bindings
by the publishers and are not published
in pamphlet form reach us in this way.
““The great bulk of volumes are
bought in large numbers, whole libra
which are sold by ti xecutors
of the wills of deceased persons
fy 1
1
Of
one
Our
T1168
Ww
\
the o
the «
laims of ¢
who are no lo
WO common
who have the dis
3 ip charge sum
them
k the same as con-
for work. The
ts the lot. T vat
yi regulated by the original
f the books which it contains, nor
y condition of the covers and the
state of preservation. but by the
if readin matter contained.
Patent-office 1 medical and
legal books may cost fortunes i
and be the best works extant up
subjects, but
ynd-hand
men
»
ie ie
is not
oot
gel
nature «
and
to
1
the average buyers o
volumes
tudents, anx
ds, which
ale
he number of
greater
of
pay ti
r cent,
ould not
. r 1
5 of fiction
TNE
aaiies ©
mn the work
‘School books are excepted from thi
1 book store
{ school
10
Second-han
as markets
deal in them
upils graduate from one set of b
to anther long before the old ones are
r We for
when standard,
Mid we IATEeIY.
ORS
good
vhey are
won out.
works
pay prices
readily and are quite as
ific 1
rarely worth over a quarter unless they
are of kind that are demand.
These prices may seem low for bound
volumes, bat when you remember that
people expect to buy them for almost
nothing and that we have to keep them
on the shelves sometimes for years and
sometimes forever, they are in reality
high prices. }ibles are worth from
two to three ‘cents jeach, unless they
happen to Le copies of old prints, which
1s one of the improbable happenings,
although two of those books which are
valued in the thousands of dollars were
found upon the shelves of second-hand
book stores.
“When Caesar wrote his Commenta-
ries he did not think that they would
go a begging on the shelves of dealers
in old books at twenty-five cenis apiece,
nor did Joseph Smith think I would
have three calls in one day for Mormon
Bibles, which I could not suppiy.
s(ireenleaf, when he puzzied his head
to paralyze the school children with his
thus 101
ithe in
that it would be one of the unsolvable
problems how to sell a score of copies of
| them at ten cents apiece or three for a
quarter, Only the writers of ten-cent
or fifteen cents. They reach us in two
| sand to the dealers copies that are left
| been cut.”
a ——
Ortontal Mage.
The old mussionary Jesuits in India
and China relate with holy horror the
under their observation, and lament
that some credulous Princes who have
been converted to Christianity should
still allow diabolic tricks to be played
| before them, As, for instance, heavy
goblets of silver to be moved from one
end of a table to another without hands
and heavy articles of furniture to dance
about the room as if possessed of de-
mons. This was many centuries be-
fore the development of modern spirit-
ualism., How these pious old monks
would be shocked at seeing tables tip-
ped, banjos banged, fiddles fly through
the air and
the evil “spirits” were supposed
tied hand and foot.
A very learned friar who lived sever-
| al hundred years ago, and is described
as ‘‘perfectly honest and trathful,’’ re.
fates that in his time there lived among
to be
and of the purest morals, They were
acquainted with the magic arts, and
depended upon the counsel and aid of
| demons *’
Among other delusions they exhibi
exactness, he says “they can sit in the
air without any visible means of sup-
then one stick after another 1s removed
and the man still remains, not touch-
ing the ground,” He further relates
that **with a long stick I felt under the
suspended person and found pothing
upon which his body rested.” Iv was
told that his last performance was pro-
fessedly exhibited in Madras during
the present century. and minutely des.
eribed by writers “whose veracity can
not be impeached.’
And now comes the most astonishing
trick of all, which has a touch of the
melodramatic to give a more piquant
flavor, I shall tell it in quaint language
of the old ehronicler, somewhat abbre-
viated, and trust no one will take it to
be literally true. He describes very
vividly the basket trick, which is well
ywn fn Indl and says: *‘I1 am
r which
HE OW
surpasses all be-
had not been witnessed
3 under my own eves,
Ai 1
gusand
LWA IL
y § +
iit ALY
Pad
will 1
beyond t
neds
and wa
asto
4
Was Lo
i
{
Ln
natant p
AN LRIILE Y hd
nd 3 Le ud
INLo a4 DASKEL,
une down,
iv ANoLLer 3
nemner
ei Le
AW will
y Logeti
traightway I
“ ho
Ne & Wiio
1
wo i a
HaihUL &
Gamage.
OVErCA
nee of thie
he showed me s
[hey gave
. BOWevYer, wiiici © i me of
The Kad
1d
s Aa
re HY
2 Lelegrapi
who can send : with |
hand al
IAT rign
id take a copy of the same with
his left. When we were in New York
we visited Mr. Spencer, son of
founder Spencerian system of
penmanship. He isa ambi-
dexterist, and as we found him writing
with his left hand we had some conver-
gation regarding it. He told us that
the number of pupils he had to use the
pen successfully with both hauds
amounted to several thousands and
were scattered all over the United
states, He showed us several samples
of work done by some very young per-
sons. Among them was a specimen of
the signature of the 13 year old son of
Carl Schurz, which was done in beau-
tiful script. Mr. 8. said he considered
him the best left-hand writer for his
age in the country. President Garfield
could use both hands, and had practi-
ced it from his boyhood. Thomas Jef-
ferson lost the use of his right arm by
a paralytic stroke, With constant
practice he became very proficient in
the use of the left, and all his writing
in the latter part of his life was done
with that hand.
the
of the
sroticient
--_—-
Florida Sinks,
known as sinks have attracted the al-
tention of scientific men and form one
| tors. Timid people are afraid of them,
but I not see any difference between
meets with in all wooded counties,
Sometimes an acre will commence to
sink towards the centre, and year after
year the depth increases until it reaches
| its lowest point and stands still, Some
of these places are wonderfully beauti.
| ful, being covered with a luxuriant un-
| qer-growth of bush vegetation, shaded
| by immense trees garlanded with grape-
‘draped with the beautiful moss of the
| pool of clear water, These bosky shades
| motion a picture that any artist wight
be proud to add to his collection. Some-
| times the central part really does fall
! out of sight leaving a hole whose depth
may be imagined, but out of such fiiss-
ures I have seen oak trees growing of
: large girth, proving that they do not
| really go through to China.
i ans intl I Ws
| Fue courses of brick will lay one
i foot in height of a chimney. Nine
| bricks in a course will make a flue eight
inohes wide and twenty inches long,
{and eight bricks in a conrse will make
in fine eight inches wide and sixteen
| inches long.
An uo. miner told the following tale
in relation toa wagon train. He said
Idaho Springs, I came upon a rich lead,
The rock, however, was hard, and had
required
two men to do the work, While I was
still in a quandary as to whom 1 could
get, a stranger came up to where 1 was
I inquired
whether he knew anything of mining
“He assured me that he had worked
in mines in California and Nevada for
vears, and thought he understood it,
Borpething in the manner and conver-
sation of the man made me take a
strong and sudden fancy to him, and 1
never had cause to be sorry for it. He
gave his name as Robert Williams, and
had a mild and rather agreeable face,
but with a melancholy that seemed to
be the result of years of habit, Ast is
LU custoinary in this country, espec-
ally in a mining district to inquire par-
icularly into a man’s antecedents, I at
mee made a proposition to Williams to
yin me and work the new prospect on
shares. He accepted the offer, and, as
% oecas to
before, 1 never
ways (quiet,
y
i
i
i
1
.
(
aaa 4)
Al
ustrions, he became a fa~
A
: aril thie Yur
, ana the only
and othe
ently,
and told me a wondert
rlwasb in Pittsburg
iron mani-
all the benefits of
indulged me in
coulkd buy.
was admitted
OW
Val 4 large
ind gave me
ing
that
wild
the
: ight visi
the fortune ths
» that which 1
or
if
trains Ot
i land. While
SOME arrangements
plains, 1 was accosted one day
asked me if I was gong
mm being told that that
ion, he saad: ““I am about
loaded with nitro-gly-
sil, as it is called,
the trip 1s
dange . 1 ind it
take the risk.
will pay well for the service, and all
| Not knowing or
I eagerly seized
ning a pmty of
Lt Lo Cross
a them of th
of the cargo con-
I started
th another man
s me, When we
we always drew
ie side, took
sine distance
of an alter.
1500, when near
on the Little Blue,
ne dark, a thunder storm
as fate would have it a bolt of
Seeking
z 0
8 the
10 raake
10
a
i s AIME BS
1 with me
t to get anyone to
5 -
for
the
i iil er
©
rigs
On
al
Ya
C1.
UeCAl
£
its contents, which consisted of 3,500
pounds of the dangerous substance kill-
ing every one of the small party, togeth-
er with all of the horses and cattle, and
reducing to fragments every wagon in
the train. By a miracle I was riding con-
siderablyin advance at the time, seek-
ing to get a shot al some antelopes
which were grazing in the distance, I
became aware of a report louder and
more distinct than thunder, and turn-
ing on my horse, saw adense cloud of
smoke where the train should have been
but could not discover its whereabouts,
diding back, I beheld a horrid sight.
Bodies of men without legs or arms lay
scattered about, and mingled in the
confusion of fragments of wagons and
their freight were the still quivering
carcasses of cattle and horses, You
can judge of my horror at the speciacle.
I was the only living survivor of
party. Almost bereft of my senses 1
rode on, and was seized with a new ter-
ror. What account could I give of the
party or how explain their mysterious
disappearance? Then I came tons res-
olution that was both cowardly and in-
humane.
“1 would avoid going to the point of
destination of the train and would con-
ceal the facts of its fate in the Rear that
I might be accused of making away
it. Instead of stopping at the
miping camps near Pike's peak, I made
the
went to California. Once in a great
while I would see a newspaper in which
was commented on, everyone believing
they had been massacred by Indians.
Thins secret I have kept locked in my
breast all these years, and it has tortur-
ance. At this point of his story Wil
liams became so weak that he could not
continue, and shortly after breathed
his last ©’
-
A report 18 going the rounds that a
could only be fully carried out. The
eleotrio battery is to be worked by sun.
hight mostly, if not entirely, and the
cost of the other elements could be re-
duced toa minimum, If cheap and
ble scouamulstors oould be made
or storing the electricity the sunlight
of a single summer comld be made to
store foroe enough to drive all the mills
and railroads for years,
Proms the fight against insects on
house and conservatory plants early in
the fall, Bome green flies are sare Lo be
turkiag abont the plants at this season.