THE ISLE OF CONTENT. There's a laud in a latitude near to us all Where each dweller may follow his bent; It is under no monarch’s tyrannical thrall, And 1x known as the Isle of Content. It's a wonderful spot: if you ask, it will bring To you quickly whate'er you desire; What it can not produce—(it's a singular thing),— That is just what you never require. By the balmiest zephyrs of Happiness fanned, It is neither too cold nor too hot, And the lassies and lads never care in this land Whether school is in session or not. In Content, tho’ but poor, yet you feel, ne’ertheless, You are equal in wealth to a king, While a tear in the trousers or darn in the dress You consider a capital thing. If you have n't the money to purchase a meal feel {If you live in Content) ‘‘very nice.” When I n smile That extends for three inches, or more, Then I nudge myself inwardly, thinking, the while, “He's encamped shore.” on Content's I have dwelt on this beautiful island at times, While inditing small verses for you, And I often have wondered if, reading my rhymes, You were there as a resident, too. HER RR THE TABLES TURNED. re ————————————— - was intentional, but Georgie’s dark eyes rested on Tom as she gpoke. “There goes papal” cried Rosie, at the instant starting up, as a tall, elderly man passed along the terrace in front of the house. ‘“‘Let us tell him Tom has come,” “Let us all go to him,’ said Tom. They rose, and the sisters went on before; but Tom somehow managed to drop a little behind with his cousin, “So, Georgie,” he said, ‘you wouldn’t marry a man who was a cow- ard. I hope you meant that for me, because you might marry me if I were not. “Oh, dear coz, you know how I love you! “I'd face all the ghosts in Chris- tendom if you would only say you would be my wifel”’ “Yet you will not face a probable one, Tom," she laughed. 1 will without demur, if you would only say ‘yes,’ Georgie,’ he whispered, earnestly. ‘‘Ghosts shouldn’t frighten me?’ “I'd like to have that proved. Iam | not so certain,” she rejoined, saucily, as they came up to the rest. “Well, Tom,” exclaimed Mr. Harri- | want you to sleep in the haunted room, | for our old house 1s respectable enough | to possess one,”’ “*So I hear sir, and will willingly test | ing: “When the lads of the village, Merrily ah!—merrily ah!” ‘He's rowed up from Come, Georgie, come. ”’ lish their very feet, pose. guishly. ring,’’ laughed Rosie. the youngest sis- ter. “We are so glad you've come, Tom, whether in tune or not. We “None in the least my boy, only I'll “Should anything appear. it will not 1 So it was agreed that Tom should | *‘I hope he will see nothing,’ sal “I hope he will,” said Georgie, ‘‘and | “T shan’t sleep a wink to-night,” re- | marked Rosie, as they saw Tom disap- | pear down the long corridor. “I don’t think I shall munch,” agreed | The next morning Tom's appearance | was anxiously | expected. When he came, his express- | ‘““Well,” smiled Mr, Harrison, “what did you see Tom? Giles Scroggins’ “I can’t quite say, sir,”’ answerel | his son. “I certainly thought once 1 saw something; but I was so dead tired, | that my half-dazed brain may have played me a trick. Consequently, I would rather say nothing until I’ve had | another night's experience.” “Sleep there again!’’ ejaculated the girls, Georgie loudest. “* Assuredly!” Tom’s account but half satisfied his “I'm sure he has seen something,” | said Lenore, when they were alone. | “1m certain of it!” coincided Geor- | gie. “But he 18 going to show how | Why can’t the silly fellow | thing for you to do.” “Really? Prithee, fair sister, ex- pound,” he rejoined, walking up the lawn, a sister on either side of him, though his eves oftenest sought out Georgie, ‘But first,’” asked Leonore, the elder, “how long are you going to stay here?’ “*Whitehall has given me My luggage comes by road.” we will tell you.” The girls sat in a kind of semicircle; whilg Tom laid his whole length before them, his elbow on the grass, Lis cheek on his hand. ter?’ “Well,” said Lenore, who by general acclaim was nominated spokeswoman, Tom had seen something. About midnight in the farthest cor- ner of the room he had beheld a shadowy female form, draped in grayish-white, occasionally wage its arms, while faint | sighs burst from the hips, He had felt startled, alarmed. He had tried to think it the moonlight; but glancing at the window, he saw there Was none. So hie had laid and looked half fright- and half ashamed of being so. Abrubtly, however, remembering Geor- and being partially dressed, leaped up Fora second there was no alteration. Then it rapidly melted away--there was a click—and when Tom reached the cor- | certain room in this house papa has just ** Nonsense,” ““But it is true. Papa would not let us know when he bought the place, but we soon heard it from the people about here. He, however—as you—says it’s all non- sense,” “Being a sensible, practical man,” interpolated Tom, “Ah; still he gives us full leave to fest it." ** Aud are you going to?” “We wish to, therefore want you to sleep there one night, Tom.” “Want me!” remarked Georgie, very gravely, “whether there is a ghost or not.,”’ “Really 1 feel exceedingly obliged,” laughed Tom, “but I don’t quite see the joke, I am wunot anxious for a ghostly acquaintance.” “Oh, Tom!” exclaimed Georgie, with sin’s cheek, a coward.” “Coward! Come now, Georgie, that’s too bad,” he cried. ““Well, I think it cowardly," respond- ed the young lady, pursing her pretty Little mouth. “I don’t believe in ghosts any more than uncle does; and I want to sleep there, only he will not let me.” “1 should think not,” said Tom, with guick approval. “But what kind of ghost is it? What is the story?” “Why, they say years and years ago ihe heiress of this large estas, for it was a large estate then, was one night eruelly murdered in that room by her cousin, who, on her death, inherited the property; ever since which period the lady's ghost, attired in white, pays the apartment a visit regulatly at twelve o'clock maidnighs,” and as Le- nore ended thers was a tremor in ber voice, “Bosh! laughed Tom, contemptuous. ¥ bs, Lenny, you look absolutely pale!” “They will not even pass the door after dark,” remarked Georgie, with a toss of the bead. “But don’t you quizz them, Master Tom, for you, also are too frightened to face itl” “What cowardice!” with a ttle shrug. “I declare if any man loved me, and I found he was a coward, I'd never, never marry himi” Perhaps it was accident, perhaps it | Can there really be ghosts, he thought, | groping his way back to bed. Impossi- ble! Yet—his eyes turned to his pistol. but no-—it | wouldn't do! The second night the same thing oc- | sighed and moaned, and wrung its | hands as in direst distress, but it did | not wait for Tom's advance. It vanished after a few moments, i “*It’s curious, to say the least of it.” | he meditated, striking a light, and sit- | ting on the side of his bed. i Then taking the candle, he carefully | It was a spacious oak-paneled room, with high casemented windows, Mr, would have a happy time of it. | Bat Tom could discover neither ghost | tened. “It’s confoundedly singular?’ | he repeated, finally throwing himself on | the bed, The next morning he what had occurred. Mr. Harrison pooh-pooh’d it; declar- | told exactly be was poking fun at them; but the girls took it very differently. “There,” cried the sisters, ‘'you see, Georgie, the place is haunted!” For a second Georgie appeared de- feated; she pouted, glanced at her cup, then exclaimed, with charming con- sistency: “I don’t and I won't believe there are ghosts! As uncle says, Tom has been deluded!” “‘Well, Tom is going to give it anoth- er trial,” laughed the young fellow, “Oh, no, don’t do that!” exclaimed Georgle, quickly. *‘We've had enough of it!” “1 don’t think so,” rejoined Tom, de- lighted at this involuntary interest, “And if it comes a third time, 1'll take it for a signe"? “Of what?” “That I have proved my courage,” he whispered, “and merited the reward for facing a ghost.”’ “There are tio ghosts persisted Geor- gle blushing. “Then you do not believe me?" “1 fancy you were deceived.” That night the sisters implored Tom to sleep in his own bedroom; to which Georvie, the bold disboliever, even added her entreaties, They fancied he Lad been more frightened than he cared to confess, for he had been remarkably quiet them. and wandered about the house like a ghost himself, But Tom was firm, He said he was resolved to believe his eves and brain had deceived him unless the poor lady-ghost appeared a third time, “But suppose she may nov again?’ suggested Georgle. “Then I'm resolved to sleep in this room until she does, or put it all down as nervous bosh and optical delusion!” With that Master Tom strode off to his haunted bed-chamber, while the girls crept along to theirs, Scarcely had midnight chimed, for somewhere, no doubt, it did chime, though not in Mr. Harrison's house, than in the dark corner ot the oak-pan- eled apartment the shadow figure. That it was a woman there could be no doubt, The loose grayish draperies flowed round it, dreoping from the waving arms, while a gray mist apparently en- veloped the head. It repeated the same evolutions as on the previous occasion, only its moans and tokens of grief were more earnestly expressed; but after all, this night was destined to be materially different, come arrived, lo! another ghost! The last was taller, clothed entirely in white, and standing behind the first, and behold, there hollow, sepulchral moan. Evidently, however, the smaller spint hadn't expected this ghostly companion, for, percelving it, with a ringing jut no Tom sprang to her rescue, “So, Miss Georgie, I've caught you have 1! The tables are nicely turned, upon my life.” “Tom!” gasped Georgie, the smaller about her head, *‘is it you? does it mean?’ “Only that Iv’e discovered the ghost,” laughed Tom. *‘The second night I suspected the unsubstantiality of my Oh! what that had another outlet in the corridor your room. who was my lady-ghost.” “Oh, Tom,” she murmured, half frighten me. I can scarcely stand. “+1 really thought you a spectre. rage—and-—-"" **I have tested yours, who were 80 brave.” **Tom, can you forgive we?” “If you facing the ghost, Georgie.” “Tom,” time to play Romeo and Jullet—nor the toilets, tening along the corridor, “do keep my secret, Tom. Do, please!’ she added, imploringly as she fled through the panel, But the secret did creep out next day —and the Jaugh-—as the tables were turned on Georgie, who, frighten Tom, had been awfully fright. ened herself, Georgle angrily declared she never forgive her cousin, Put it was supposed she did, fo first ball held in the haunted roon ommemoration of their day. AA Causes of Sulcide, One of the potent causes leading to self-destruction is sufficiently indicated in the latter exhibit, Poverty, or the or delusive, has dug many 8 suicide’s dishonored ‘““*No home, no hope, no friends are left to me” of one of tlus class, money, no was the epitaph Ripe manhood or and temperament enter largely into the self-inflicted death, The Irishman, to whom life represents a heritage of struggle against adversity, succumbs to the madness of strong drink, while no personal privation or grief would over- speculative mind to its depths of mel. eleven vears that embrace the eritical in New York City, only three negroes out of a population of more than twen- ty thousand took their own lives, two poisoning herself, Business, in one form or another, is nearly always at the bottom of the native American's sul- Reverses with those who fail} with those who succeed, that bane of hard-earned wealth—sleeplessness, “I cannot sleep and 1 know that the end is the madhouse, I choose deat in preference,” wrote a Yonker’s mil- lionaire before he blew out his brains in Earle’s Hotel last spring. The report of his pistol has echoed through scores of gilded lives, envied by the world, but to their owners a hated burden, Singullr motives for sutcide that illus- trate the freakishness of excited human nature are common, A German tailor killed himself because two small bills were presented to him for payment, and in the effort to put out the collec. tor he had broken a window, A Thir- ty-fourth street millionaire blew out his brains when coming home from a wine supper, because the girl did not open the door quickly enough in response to his call, In Albany, this summer, a Ger- man woman who had lost her bank book threw herself and her four children in front of a railroad train andwas killed holdingibe youngest down upon the rails’ An Italian tailor on Houston street, in a moment of mental aberation, took a bath and died from the unwonted ablu- tion. A Russian printer of mature age took his life because he wanted to see his mother and could not go home, Others have taken leave of life with the simple explanation that they were tired thoughtful all day, had kept aloof from and wanted rest, Napoleon and Ins Captors. Here is a pleasing incident in the ca- reer of Napoleon ILI, which took place while he was with the camp at Boulogne in 1854: On arriving at Boulogue, the Emperor commissioned M. Ducos, the Minister of the Marine, to find out if there still existed in that town any of the men who had been concerned in his arrest on the occasion of his {ll-fated expedition in 1840. Ducos discovered a sallor who had thrown himself into the sea to seize the Prince, who was trying to swim back to the vessel in which he had come, the aforesaid sailor Laving clutched the Pretender by his hair; then Ducos also discovered the gendarme, then a custom-house officer, who, on the bench, had received the vanquished Prince from the hands of the sailor and had taken him by the collar. These two men were brought to Ducos, who asked them if they were really the persons that had been desig- nated to him. The two replied, with much hesitation, that it was they who had arrested the Prince, and Ducos ing at 9:30. After an anxious night they presented themselves before the Minister exactly at the appointed hour, Ducos conducted them to the Emperor, and the sailor was the one first admitted to the Imperial presence, ror, twisting his long mustache, walk- ed quickly up to him and said: ‘So it | was you that In 1540 sprang into the sea | and captured me by seizing me by the t hair?’ “The sailor—'Y our Majesty, I—I—' you? Yes or no?’ | “The sailor (recovering his self-pos- | session )—*Well, yes your Majesty; all the others were firing at you, and you | might have been wounded and ! | save your life—it was I who saved your life.’ | “The Emperor and the Minister had | hard work to keep their faces straight | while listening to this embellished his- | tory of an arrest changed to a rescue, | “Well done, my good fellow,” re- | plied the Emperor; ‘here is the cross me,’ “Next came the gendarme custom- house officer, but his imagination was less inventive than that of the sailor, | and suggested to him no such marvel- transactions. He stammered and | hesitated for some time, then bravely making up his mind, he replied: “iyes Sire, it was I. You were | breaking the laws, I was on duty and 1 arrested you.’ ous | you wear-—who gave it to you?’ “The Gendarme “Sire, it was Louis Phillipe.’ ving ed me?” “The Gendarme—'I am an old soldier —I had done good service-———I, but to | tall the truth, Sire, it was on the occa | sion of your arrest I received it. “The Emperor—‘I am sorry for it, | because I shall not have the pleasure of | giving it to you myself, since you have | already got it, but here is the military | medal, (taking off the one that he wore himself and fastening it to the breast of the gendarme's uniform). You area brave soldier.’ And the gendarme re- ceived, as the sailor had already done, a | gift of 500 francs.” EE ———— i —— Found in an Old Shaft. | Years ago, when Sierra county was | first overrun by the gold hunters, scores of mines were worked for a time. and then abandoned. Hundreds of the pioneer miners lost fortunes by | their inability to apply themselves to any one task. If fortune seemed to frown on them news of a strike in some | other district immediately flied them | with a desire to try their also. In this way many | since found to be valuable—were de- | serted. All over that part of the State {may be found abandoned gluices, shafts and drifts, In all mining countries may be found any number of men who believe that | their predecessors did not fully under- | stand their business, A deserted min- ing outfit is to their mind proof not | that gold does not exist at that very | point, but that the men who tried to | find it there years ago did not know | how to do it. Scores of these knowing located, | the old mining properties, searching for | evidences of color or quartz | such have been richly rewarded, and | thiis has served to stimulate the others, | The argument which they nse to them- | selves, and to capitalists who may be | called upon to back them, is always | plausible enough. It is that, in the many of the prospects which promised | to be nich from surface indications were never vet been carefully and scientific- ally examined to see whether the origi- nal miners worked their leads fully out, The increased knowledge now pos sessed as to the nature of the forma- tions is also urged as another reason why skilled miners should go over all these old claims again and examine them as carefully as if no one had ever delved there before, When prospect ors of standing go into this business they never lack for money, for there is a fascination about the thing. The sight of strange men around the old mines on the mountains has be- come so common that not much atten. tion has been paid to it in the vicinity of Downieville of late, A recent dis- covery about four miles north of Dow- nieville, says a letter from that town, has set everybody to talking, and people now expect that every abandon- ed mine in Sierra county will have an overhauling, James Dacey and Her- man Shaffner have long made their home in an old cabin on the mountain side, from which they have gone on many extended prospecting tours. Confining their attention mainly to the deserted mines, they at Jength came upon one which impressed them pro- foundly, Tools were scattered around as fhough hastily dropped, though rust and mold had gathered thickly upon them. They found the mouth of a shaft over which # was omident a sta ging of some sort had ovce been placed ut only small fragments of it were pow visible. A short distance on they found the ruins of a small cabin, The door and door -posts still stood, put the roof had fallen in, and two sides of the building had collapsed. The men set about the task of exploring the ruin, As the wood was badly decayed they found the job tedious, but after two days’ work they uncovered an old leather valise containing some clothing and mementoes, There was the frame of a daguerreotype, but the glass was broken, and the picture could not be made out. A package of letters was soacked and welded together so tightly that, even if the ink had not been faded and obscured by dirt, it would have been impossible to have separated them, Later on they found an old pistol, a few | knives, some tin dishes, and the rem- | nants of a coat, | It began to dawn upon them that it { was no ordinary abandoned mine that they had found. The men who worked | there thirty years ago never left it in- tentionally in that manner, | become of them, and why had they country round for further evidence of | the presence of miners, but were unsuc- | cessful. There were the ruined hut, | the yawning shaft, the ditch which { around carelessly, but nothing else, They examined everything minutely, each other in the face and said nothing. | Neither cared to go down ia that hole, | for both suspected what might be at the | bottom. It took their resolved to descend the shaft, | them several days to make rangements., They got | scent, | he promptly tied the belt waist, fastened the ropes to made ready. Shaffper took about his it, and turn one everything was in order Dacey let self down easily. It had been | that Dacey was to go down but a little | way that day to endeavor to locate the depth of the shaft, and determine, if possible, the nature of its When he had descended about feet he signalled Shaffoer that he sired to ascend, and the latter made the | ropes fast. Dacey then unfastened his | belt, | hands, pulled himself up hand over | hand. When he reached the surface | and was assisted out of the hole by his ai. | most speachless, not over 100 feet in depth, but there |§t. With the aid of his dark lantern be | had been able to penetrate the remotest sorner of the pit. On one side he | covered a drift, but he did not pause to | explore It. by some half-decayal timbers, on which | moss had formed. but he saw enough | discovery to themsd ves, diligently for several days, clearing the | shaft. and finally, coming to the bottom, | they removed the skeleton and buried it | near where the old cabin had stood. side the bones they four of a shotgun, but nothing eis they began operations in line they were spealily several rich finds, The grows | richer day by day, and from Cimens | seen It is judged that they have struck a bonanza, mining a rded by MAI R50 On the Tea Ketiia, He was so hopping that he had to swallow the in | his throat three or four times before he could speak English, When the other | had patted him on the back and led him around in a circle he began with: to pay it.” “Of course.” | “I'm worth $30,000, and I don’t owe | $200 in the world.” “Of course not,"’ | “Well, I was sitting In the office | about 11 o'clock this forenoon, when in leame a stranger. | self and took a chair, and it was only courtesy to offer him a | cigar. He said he had frequently heard | my name mentioned, and 1 supposed he | was some gentleman from the interior {of the State who wanted my written | legal opinion.” ‘Certainly; your luminous legal opin- jon.” “He seemed rather diffident and em- | wants known up to noon I invited him { home with me to dinner. He readily accepted.” “i apo," “ After dinner I showed him all over the house, played billiards with him for half an hour, and then brought him back to the office and gave him another fifteen cent cigar and asked him to come to the point.” “And he came?” “He did—Dbless him! He handed me a bill of fifty cents from the tin shop here in town for mending the wash- boiler and putting a new noseon the tea-kettle, ————— EI AOS Historical Arohery. Archery may be said never to have entirely gone out of fashion, even after the introduction of “villainous saltpe- tre’ and the musket. Edward VI, was fond of the bow, and Tharles 1, not only practiced it, but encouraged its use among his subjects. Charles 1L and his Queen patronized tournaments of archers, and as late as 1562 a thous- and bowmen competed at a grand fete given Ly the London Artillery compa- ny. In Cornwall's time, the weapon was not entirely banished from the army, and Charles IL. had his keeper of the bows. At Chester, on Shrove Tues- day and Easter Monday, the archer shot for prizes provided by the bride: grooms of the past year; and at Harrow wo believe, is still preserved the silver arrow for which, up to the year 1771, the boys shot annually on the 4th of August, a day associated in the minds of their successors with oratorical dis- plays. Nor must it be fi ten that the Queen’s body in are the gal archers who have always num- bered in their ranks the pick of the Scottish aristocracy and citizens of Edinburgh. “fo be phot ut Six.” A terrible example has been made 1. Tonquin. One of the special corres- pondents attached to the expedition now in the field, was Camille Farey, well-known as a brilliant writer. He had long been connected with La France, one of the leading journals, The army which he wan detailed to accompany was that of General Forgemol. This officer is a martinet and entertains the most rigid ideas regarding discipline. Before the expeditionary force landed he, in conjunction with General Vin- cendon, concocted the following pledge, which all the journalists were obligad to sign: . ees promise upon my honor to transmit po imformation whatever, either by telegraph or by mail, or by any other means, without first having submitted my manuscript to the exami- nation of the officer commanding the expedition, or to such officer or officers as he may delegate that power to. I further agree that any fallure to keep this pledge will expose me to the rigors of martial law. —y This document was signed by all the When Farcy’s turn came he took | the pen, but it was with evident reluc- | tance that he signed. When had | done so he said to Forgemol: “General, I sign this document only because I am forced to do so, because | without doing so I could net fulfill my duty as a correspondent, because with- | out doing so I could not accompany But I warn you, sir, that I shall speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the touching | such Io a8 may come under my : And with a defiant General, Camille with- he the | expedition. wih truth, The old General gnawed his grizzled moustache to conceal his wrath. He did what perhaps most men would have he set a spy to dog the footsteps of Farcy. The expedient was successful. Two after the detected the list. under a disguise, quitting the camp, He followed and saw him deposit a large envelope in or f the minor postoffices upon the ntier, He was at once arrested and conducted | to Forgemol’s headquarters. Ahal” said the General, *‘at it al- | ready, my fine fellow, Well, whatjhave we * and he seized and broke | open the envelope. “Hum-—addressed | to La France. Evidently some corres- | pondence which you were sending with- | out my knowledge.” “Yes. General, said Farcy, calmly. “Jet us see what it is," said Forge- mol, as he began to peruse the letter, “(yeneral,’’ said Farcy, coldly, *‘per- | mit me to remind you that you are vio- lating private correspondence, ”’ | «Private correspondence? Bahl’ re- | torted Forgemol, *‘Very private, in- deed; all Paris would know it in | another day,” and he resurwed his read- ing, : There were some severe stricliures ir the letter upon the conduct of the cam- | paign. Forgemol’s reading was inter- | rupted by oaths, and when he finished he was purple with wrath. " gaid he grimly, *‘vou consider competent to judge of 18 of a general in the fie done ws | evenings spy 1 0 fr AlN ie . here?’ the 3 imself, vened. Its proceedings were SUmInary —its sentence short: “Camille Farcy is condemned to be shot at 6 in the momm- ing. 1t was then midnight. The doomed | man was placed in charge of a lieuten- | ant and a squad of soldiers, put upon a special train and was borne swiftly to the capital city, where the execution | was to take place, At 5:30 o'clock the train dashed into the city. It passed under the walls of | the palace where Albert Grevy, the governor general, lives in state. The | windows were brightly lighted and the | strains of a waltz were borne to the | ear of the prisoner. The Governor was giving a ball. “You have half an hour in which to | prepare for death,” said the lieutenant, compassionately; “would you like 1 have me send for a priest?” “1 suppose said Farcy, | grant my last request?” “Yes” | “Then let me go the ball, | like to have a waltze before 1 die. | The officer bowed and repaired to M. | Grevy’s palace. | “His request shall be granted,” said | the President’s brother. “Who could | refuse a dying man’s request? Bring him here; he shall dance with my daughter,’ And it was done, The last moments of his life were spent on a ball-room floor. At 6 o'clock the officer spoke: “The file is waiting.” said he. “Let us go,” said Farcy. He saluted the dancers and withdrew. When he reached the ground where the file was awaiting him he retused to allow his eyes to be bandaged, and demanded permission to give the word of com- mand. “May all journalists do as I have ' sad he; “tit is their duty.” “you will 1 would " NH done,” Then folding his arms he cried: “Fire!” The crash of the muskets rang out on the morning air. Camille Farcy fell dead, pierced with balls, The vengeance of General Forgemol was accomplished. St. John's Dread. The husks upon which the Prodigal Son fed are not as the American reader is apt to imagine, the husks of maize, that is, of Indian corn. They are the fruit of the Kharub tree, and are from their shape called in the Greek little horns. From the popular notion that they were the food of John the Baptist they are called St. John's bread, Dr. Thomson describes them as “‘fleshy sods, somewhat like those of the honey ocust tree, from six to ten inches long and one broad, lived side with a gela- tinous substance, not wholly unpleasant to the taste when thoroughly ri 1 have seen large orchards of the Kharab in Cyprus, where it is still the food which the swine do eat.” RRR
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers