Lightning and KIMM.
The storm is coming on apace;
The trees begin to ehivor;
Big drops of rain drum on the pane,
And set me all a-quiver;
The elonda ore black as ink, oh—oh!
How vividly it lightened!
And this premonitory bush—
Joe, I am sadly frightened.
" No wonder, darling, you're afraid
In such a storm as this is;
Bnt never tear the lightning, dear,
I'll blind your eyes with kisses."
It's driving down upon us now;
The very house is rocking;
Wind-currents roar, rain-torrents pour—
Oh, how my knees are knocking;
The thunders crash and roll as though
The sky had split asundor;
Joe, I shall surely taint away,
1 atn so atraid ot thunder,
" Darling, you well might faint away
In such a storm as this is;
But never tear the thunder, dear,
I'll silence bring with kisses."
" It's such a catching season, Joe,
I'm in a constant panic;
There's that about a thunder-cloud
Which sceins almost satinic.
What did yon eay, Joe ?—that you wish
'Twonld come on every day so ?
You cruel follow—let me go—
How do you dare say so T
" Ot such a cruel wish, my dear,
The explanation this ,'s:
The grass anil grain need frequent rain,
And I—need ireouent kisses."
A BITTER GAIN,
A remarkable affinity existed between
the occupants of two separate windows
in one of a dingy row of brick.houses
one exceptionally hot summer not many
years ago; it was the more remarkable
that these two people were very unlike
each other, being of opposite sexes, the
one a grizzled, gruff, grumpy bachelor
on the wro.-g side of fifty, the other a
round, rosy, rollicking maiden of "sweet
mad twenty." The man was evidently a
foreigner, the woman an unmistakable
American, and these two heads, framed
by the embrasures of the separate win
dows, formed a strong contract. It
was about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and both of them were looking for the
postman— she from her attic window;
he from his second floor front. They
had been looking for the postman every
day for fortnight, and hope deferred
had paled the cheek and subdued the
merriment of the maiden, white it
deepened the already rubicund color and
sharpened the already testy tempera
ment of the man. Presently appeared
in sight the brisk dapper little fellow,
in the gray uniform, with his bag
strapped over his shoulder, stepping
along from house to house, dealing joy
and sorrow, surprise, fear, eostary, all
the emotions incident t j poor hapless
huminity as he went. But he dealt
nothing to the two anxious watchers in
the dingy brick row. Their heads sim
ultaneously turned to watch him as he
disappeared around a neighboring cor
ner. The man punted out a bitter ejac
ulation. and slammed down the win
dow; the girl sighed, and with diffi
culty repressed a sob as she closed the
Mind.
The next day at four o'clock the same
pantomime was enacted. The same
anxiety, hope, fear, disappointment,
e painted on the two laces. The
girl brushed the tears from her eyes,
and put wearily bark her hair. As the
man with his usual expletive ol disgust
and disappointment, tugged at the
blind, a puff of wind blew the light
ribbon from the hair of the girl straight
into his eyes, and from thence to the
floor of his room. He saw it at once.
It lay upon the faded carpet almost un
der his feet. His first impulse was to
tramp upon it as he marched to and fro
growiingat the hnrd luck that had ahu
him up in this hot hole during the dog.
days. His next impulse was to kick
the bauble aside; but it was not of a
kickabie nature, and clung close to his
feet. He stooped at last and took, it
from the floor and found it suspiciously
damp.
"bhe's been sniffling again," he said.
" As usual, she gets no letter and cries;
I get no letter, and I swear. I wonder
which is the most consoling. And why
in thunder don't she get her letter ? She
•an't have any rascally lawyers to deal
with, that lie, and cajole, and cheat and
steal. She can't be waiting for a wit
ness to come from the other side of the
world to testify in a case that ought to
have been settled before he went to sea.
I believe it was a conspiracy on the
part of these infernal lawyers to daw
dle along with the ense, and not dis
cover the existence of this Martin Mal
loy till he had shipped again, and was
well out of their call. And now it
seems that the fate suit depends
apon the testimony of this fellow before
the mast. At least five thousand pounds
of my money at this present moment is
at stake in the life of a miserable sailor
far out at sea." Here bis soliloquy was
interrupted by a light tap at the door.
"Come," hg growled, without turning
hie fiend.
He thought it was his landlady, Mrs.
Matson, for whom be had no particular
affection,.or her rough-featured domes
tic, that he felt certain was shortening
hie life by her miserable cookery. But
a gentle voice said, " Did you want any
thing. sir P" And torning he beheld his
inndlndy's daughter. And how in the
world she could bear that relation to the
fnt, swarthy, coarse and commercial
female who kept the house, this lodger
could not imagine. Her eyes were so
soft and brown, so pleading and inno
cent. frank and confiding as a little
child's, whereas her mother's were
narrow and sharp, distrustful and cun
young girl flushed under this
scrutinizing gaze, and said again ■ " You
didn't want anything, then, Mr. Mc-
GrawP Mother said you pounded on the
•oor."
** Founded!" said Mr. McGraw; •• of
•em se 1 pounded. If I don't get a letter
■ooa 111 make smithereens of some of
this horsehair furniture about me. II
your mother has any regard for *h<r
squint-eyed ancestor over there, she'd
ff* down and out of the
"StiL following me about
with that damaged leer of his for the
I. Its a mercy I haven't
stabbed him through the canvas. And
say, H he added, for the girl was fast
vanishing out of Lis sight, and she was
wondrous pleasant article to look upon
in this gloomy old barrack—"say."
said Mr. McGraw. He was still twlrl
lig the bit of blue ribbon in his lingers
mad now held it out to the young girl.
"It fell in the window to-day as we
were both looking for that confounded
postman. I hope we'll have better luck
to-morrow, Maggie."
" I thought sure wo would to-day,
sir," said Maggie, blushing and sighing.
" I had a good sign this morning."
" TV hat WHS that. Maggie?" said Mr.
McGraw, still holding Ins end of the
bluo ribbon.
' Why. see, sir," slie said, and pointed
to the skhtof her dress. " I put it on
wrong side out this morning, and never
changed it, for Martin used to say it was
sign of good luck."
"And who is Martin?" said Mr.
McGraw. "It so happens that lam in
terested in that name."
"The one I'm looking for a letter
from, sir. The vessel was due a month
ago;" and here her voice broke, and the
brown eves tilled with tears.
" A sailor with the name of Martin?"
mid Mr. McGraw, with increased in
terest. "What's his last name, Mag
gie?"
" Malloy, sir—Martin Mailoy."
" God I)less my soul!" said McGraw;
"this is a remarkable coincidence!
Why, Maggie, this is the very man I'm
waiting to hear from. A heavy sura of
money depends upon this friend of
yours. I suppose he is more than a
friend, Maggie?"
" We're promised to be married, sir,
after this voyage. He hod a chance of
rising to second mate; and oh, I'm so
sorry we waited!"
"So am I." said Mr. McGraw. "If
he'd stopped long enough to be married
wo might have got hold of him for a
witness, and that would have been the
making of many a thousand pounds for
mo; but never mind, Maggie; let's de
pend upon the augury of the pt ttieoat.
You see our fates are linked together,
and as only one of us wears a petticoat,
the one garment must serve for us both;
and I'll tell you what, Maggie"—forstie
was fast vanishing again, and he hated
to see her go—" I'll tell you what, when
Martin comes back, and wins for me
this money, a good round sum of it
shail go for a wedding outfit for you."
"If he only comes back!" said Mag
gie, and went out of the door, leaving
the ribbon still in the hand ol Mr. Mc-
Graw—a meditative, softened, alto
gether changed expression upon his
face.
"A most remarkable coincidence!" lie
repeated to himself. "This accounts
for the interest I've taken in that girl
from the start. A queer freak of destiny
has thrown us together, and here we
are both hanging upon the fate of this
sailor. I don't suppose he's worthy of
her. No doubt he's a rough, common,
abusive brute; but he's young"—here
Mr. McGraw gave vent to a grunt that
was meant for a sigh—"and, I suppose,
after his low fashion, good looking."
Here Mr. McGraw kicked over tlie
ottoman that obstructed his way, put
the biue ribbon ift his vest pocket, drew
a chair to the window, filled his pipe,
and looking out upon a triangular bit
of the western sky tell into a profound
reverie.
The next morning Maggie was at her
old post at the nttie window. Mr.
McGraw was also rattling at his blinds;
hut he looked fully as often up at Mag
gie as he did down the street for the
postman, and was quite jocular and
smiling for a man of his nervous tem
perament.
" Any more signs, Maggie?'" he said,
almost dislocating his neck to get a good
look at her pretty face.
Maggie shook her head, and smiled
mournfully.
" I dream:d of white horses, sir, and
mother says it's a bad sign."
" Your mother is always a f—" Here
the postman stopped at tfie door, and
nobody will ever know whether Mr.
McGraw meant to call Ills landlady a
fine woman or a fool, for all further
conversation was stepped by the coming
of the long-looked-for letters. There
was one for Maggie, and one for Mr.
McGraw. Maggie had run down to the
door, taken both letters, and fled up
stairs again. Her hand was trembling
and cold as she put the letter in Mr.
McGraw's hand.
" I'm afraid to open mine," she said;
"it's in a strange handwriting." Mr.
McGraw watched her disappear, then
tore open his own envelope witiiout a
tremor. At the first sentence, however.
Mr. McGraw started, and put his spec
tacles firmer upon his nose, and by the
time he had read the missive naif
through, his face had become the in
dex of many conflicting emotions. All
at once there was a heavy thump upon
the floor of the room above.
" My God!" said Mr. HcGraw, "she's
got the news already. And rushing out
of the room and uo the stairs as fast as
liis rather gouty leps rould carry him.
he saw the poor girl stretched lifeless
upon the floor, the fatal letter crumpled
in her hand. Then he pounded in right
good earnest; and being a man of
action, had proper restoratives used, a
doctor brought, and alter a time poor
Maggie wearily opened her eyes. The
moment she saw Mr. McGraw she
screamed and fainted again.
" I'm a bitter reminder of her loss,
said Mr. McGraw. The doctor nnd
Maggie's mother looked at him inquir
ingly. wondering how Mr. McGraw
could remind Maggie of the drowning
of her lover. But Mr. McGraw did not
explain; he merely stepped aside when
Maggie opened her eyes again. After
her first long, sobbing breath, her first
words were for Mr. McGraw.
" Wlrre is he?" she said. " Let him
come to me. He has lost his money,
and I have lost—" Here the words froze
on her lips, and she held out her hands
to Mr. McGraw, who had reached the
couch upon which they had lifted her.
She put ner arms around his neck and
sobbed there like a little child. Mr.
McGraw had lived a lonely bachelor's
life; liis kith and kin were faraway
This was a new experience to him—
new and strangely sweet For years
and years the fragrant breath of a wo
man had not touched his lips. Hit eyes
wre wet and blurred; a queer choking
sensation arose in his throat; hit voice
was husky at he blmted out tome con
soling words.
" He can never come back to speak Idr
you,"said poor Maggie. "You have
lost a) 1 your money. I'm very sorry for
you. Mr. McGraw."
Slio meant site was sorry lor herself,
but the poor child craved companion
ship in her grief.
Heaven knowt the got it from Mr.
McGraw. From this time out he be
came devoted to the duty of assuaging
the grief ol the bereaved girl. He filled
hit pockets with bonbons, and ribbori,
and the various gewgaws he thought
would soften the affliction of a gin of
twenty, and failing with those, sought
to distract her by junketings to parks
and promenades and shows, and finding
these wera distasteful to her, at laat
yielded to ber desire to go down to the
wharvee where the big ships lay. Hera
they spent hoar after hour, Mr. MeGraw
content to hold one of her hands in his.
while the other lay idly in her lap, and
her eyes went wistfully wandering out
over the water, till the shadows grow
longer and longer, and the day was
done. Then fie would say, gently,
"Come, Maggie,"and she would obey
inasweet, dutiful fashion, lifting her
face to his, full of some Bort of affection
—ho didn't stop to consider what it was;
but Maggie knew that she owed this
luxury of melancholy entirely to Mr.
MeGraw. lie had coaxed her molher
into giving over Maggie's ordinary
drudgery to other hands, so that she
could have the comfort of nursing her
grief under the auspices of Mr. MeGraw.
His landlady had, indeed, needed very
little persuasion, and mcthiß entreaties
half way. Mr. MeGraw found nothing
distasteful in this maternal solicitude,
ha vin g for years parried the thrusts and
caterings ol anxious mothers in behalf
of their portionless daughters, the more
so as it furthered his own happiness,
and rendered him more and more com
fortable as time went by.
Now that the hot summer was gone,
and the stormy winds of winter began to
blow, the old brick lodgings were
not so gloomy. The obliquely visioned
ancestor had been taken from the wall;
the horsehair furniture covered with a
gay chintz; the rusty grate was rubbed
nto a rubicund brightness, and therein
he coals blazed generously. There was
no stint in the maternal blessings show
ered upon this lodger, and Mr. MeGraw
for the first time, appreciated his deal
ings with a commercial woman, who
was willing to spend money when there
was considerable to Ire made by it. This
excellent woman even endeavored to
put an air ot smartness into Maggie's
wardrolie, and garnished her cloak with
a crimson trimming. Maggie wore the
cloak, but her face was sadly out of
keeping with the brave garment. She
had grown so much more subdued, and
so much in nomerer manner and ap
pearance, that Mr. MeGraw felt more
and more at ease in her society, and of
the two he began to appear the bright
est, and wore an air of briskness and
vigor that went far to make up tor bis
me lure years. Ilis lawyers declared
that never, in the whole course of their
experience, had they seen a man pos
sessed with such admirable philos
ophy.
As the months went by, it began to be
generally conceded by all concerned
that Mr. MeGraw was " paying atten
tion " to Maggie, and she ws treated
with that rare consideration that her
good luck demanded.
The only creature that seemed utterly
ignorant of the situation was poor Mag
gie herself, who had never for a moment
forgotten her dead sailor, cr ceased re
viving his memory to Mr. MeGraw.
who seemed the only one that could
fully sympathize with her and console
her. Prodded on bv the encouraging
hints and allusions crotho girl's mother,
Mr. MeGraw had endeavored to infuse
into his manner something of the bear
ing of a lover, but Maggie invariably
received these advances with the gentle
gratitude that had become a part of her
nature, and Mr. MeGraw instinctively
shrank from anything that might shock
her delicacy, or estrange her lrom him.
One morning, as they stood upon the
long pier and looked out to sea, he said
to the girl clinging to his arm: " Shall
you be sorry, my dear, to see me one of
these days sailing away from you in a
ship like that one over yonder, never
perhaps to look upon your sweet lace
again ?"
She snid no word, clung closer to his
arm, and two big tears rolled out of her
eyes. He took courage then to put his
arm about her—not but that it had
often been there before, but that was in
a fatherly sort ot way.
"Would you be afraid, Maggie, to
cross the sea with me?" he said.
"Afraid!" she replied; "I could
never be afraid of the sea."
There was an unpleasant inflection in
these words that was closely connected
with the dead sailor, and Mr. MeGraw
essayed still another inquiry. "Don't
you love me a little, Maggie?" he said.
" I love you better than anybody
now," she said.
He longed to ask her if her love was
anything of the nature of the ardent
passion she had once held for the sailor
Malloy, but of course lie refrained, and
indeed he was well content with his
present happiness. Mr. MeGraw felt
certain of the future. There seemed no
obstacle to his happiness, and that very
day he resolved to get his affairs in
shape so that he could leave the country
at a moment's notice. He stooped and
kissed Maggie good-bye. and started off
blithely to see his lawyers.
" Don't be long," she called from the
window. "I shall wait here till you
come back."
"God bless the child!" said poor Mr.
MeGraw. "There certainly now is
nothing to hinder our happiness."
The lawyers were out. and the office
was in care o:f the boy. On a low chair
by the door a man sat, with his head
resting upon his knees. Ills whole ap
pearancc was of tlint slipshod nature
that it seemed as if he might fall to
fdeccs at any moment. His frame, of
lerculean dimensions, was the more
pitiable that the flesh had shrunken
from the bones, and the features ol his
face were harsh and forbidding in their
prominence. His clothes were faded
and patched, his hat was pulled over his
eyes, and altogether he was a most for
lorn and pitiable object in this office of
a prosperous solicitor.
In the heyday of happiness, how could
Mr. MeGraw pass this wretched fellow
creature by without a word?
" Good morning, my poor fellow." he
said. "You seem to be in a sorry plight.
Can I do anything for you?"
" You can tell me, 'said the man. In
a hoarse and hollow voice, "if it's true
that these people here will be glad to
see me. I'm told there's a reward ofiercd
for any news of me, and I'd like a little
money to prink up before I go to sen my
sweetheart. Shell be thinking it's my
ghost if I go to her like this."
" Some wretched criminal," thought
Mr. MeGraw. " who has risked every
thing to see this woman he loves. See
here, my good fellow," he said, tower
ing his voice, "if this money will he of
any use to you, take it, and go; but I'd
keep clear of the law If I wore you."
" Why, thank you, sir." said the man,
putting back the hills, " but I'm no beg
gar. rll wait and bear what these land
sharks have to say."
At that moment the senior lawyer en
tered, and turned upon the fellow a dis
trustful glance. "What do you want
beref" he said, sharply.
" I want the money that was offered
for news of a shipwrecked sailor called
Martin Malloy^
" I offered ten pounds." said the law
yer, turning to Mr. MeGraw.
"The deuce you didf said Mr. Mo-
Graw, who had fallen into a chair, and
was gazing at the man with strained
eyes. "This Malloy is dead," he added,
still keeping his eyes unon the man.
" He ain't quite dead," said the man,
" but as near as he likes to be." Then
he went on to tell the story of the wreck,
the exposure in tho open boat, the
agony and starvation, the death and
insanity of most of the crew. It was
an old story, repeated vry often, but
the lawyer and Mr. MeGraw seemed to
hang upon every word that fell from
the lips of the miserable mariner. Mr.
McGraw's face grew old and wrinkled
as he listened. The lawyer at length
uttered an ejaculation of joy. " I con
gratulate you, Mr. MeGraw/' ho said,
turning to his client, " your money is
as safe as if you held it in your hands."
But Mr. MeGraw had fallen back
against the wall. They loosened his
necktie, and threw water in his face.
"ByJove!" said the lawyer, "your
joylul news has been too much for him.
A big part of bis money was at stake,
you see, and he's bidden his feelings so
long under a mask of resignation that
now he is overcome. Get a cabal once,"
lit added, to the boy.
But Mr. MeGraw revived, and by the
time the cab reached the office he was
able to go home alone. He, however,
asked Martin to go with him; and as
the cab rolled along, his eyes were still
fixed ui>on liis dilapidated companion.
" Nobody would know you, I sup
pose?" be said to the sailor.
"Not a soul, sir," said Martin
"Not even the—a —the person you
spoke of as your sweatheart?"
"She least of any," said Martin. "I
think she'd run away from me on
sight."
" You think so?"
" I'm sure of it. I bet you a dollar
she would."
" Yet it wouldn't pain you?
"Why, no—why should it? Women
folks are made that way. But I'll soon
prink up if I get a chance."
He began to prink up already, put bis
hat back, and brushed bis rumpled hair
from his forehead, looked from the win
dow of the cab with the air of a man to
whom life was unspeakably rare and
sweet. He was eiqaeiatcd, shrunken,
sallow, tierce-eyed and forlorn; he was
poor and patched; but Mr. MeGraw
would willingly have taken bis place in
the race for happiness; he knew ttiat all
was lost. Here was Martin Malloy; that
was the end of everything.
The thought came a little too late that
seeing her long-lost lover might kill the
girl or drive her mad. He began to ex
plain to Martin, as gradually as be
could, that the house to which they
were iourneying was the one that con
tained his sweetheart. Mr. MeGraw
chose the most careful phraseology he
could muster, but the sailor seemed all
at once to gel on fire. He flung his bat
upon the seat beside him ; he stretched
from the window his long shrunken
neck.
"You'd better get out and come in
after I've broken it to her. It may kill
lier; it may drive her mad. The shock
was a Urribie one to mc," said Mr.
MeGraw.
"That be hanged !" said Martin.
"You're an old man, you know, and
thought of your money—but my
Maggie!" here he stopped, an i the
flame of de'Jght burned in his cheeks
and eyes, lie grew suddenly young
and strong under the gnze of poor Mr.
MeGraw.
Maggie sat there by the window, as
she had promised. Oh. the bitterness
ot that moment to one, the happiness to
the other! One moment Mr. MeGraw
saw her as he had left her—pale, calm,
subdued, patient; the next, n crimson
glow bad leaped to her face, then left it
paler than before; suddenly it disap
peared. and Mr. MeGraw thought it
i had fallen away somewhere in a faint;
but presently it shone on the breast ol
the sailor, so radiant and beautiful that
it dazzled poor Mr. MeGraw.
" Why, you did know me." said Mar
tin, tears bursting out of his burning
eyes. "In spite of everything, she did
know me! I owe you a dollar, Mr.
McGrnw!"
"And, ' Master Shallow, I owe you
a thousand pound,'" quoted Mr. Me-
Graw, with a bitter grin.
What more can be said ? The wedding
too* place a little later on, after the
lawsuit bad been decided in favor ot
Mr. MeGraw. Maggie's wedding trip
was across the sea, but not in a steamer.
Tt was in a trig little vessel, which Mr.
MeGraw gave as a wedding present,
at the express request of the bride.
"Martin wouldn't give up the sea,"
she said.
"And you wouldn't give up Martin,"
said Mr. MeGraw.
"Why, no, sir, not for the world,"
said the foolish girl.
So poor Mr. MeGraw took passagi
alone.— Harper's Weekly,
A Wonderful Mesmerlser.
Strange stories come from India ot
the feats performed by a native mes
merlser named Buni, whose magnetic
fiowcr would appear to to found quite
rresistible by trie lower animals, upon
which he exclusively exerts it. He
gives seances, to which the public are
invited to bring all manner of ferocious
and untamable wild beasts, and holds
them with his glittering eye. In n few
seconds tliey subside into a condition of
enta'.rptie stiffness, from which they
can only be revived by ocrtain pauses
which he solemnly executes with his
right hand. A snake in a state of
violent irritation was brought, to Buni
ky a menagerie proprietor, inclosed in a
wooden cage. When deposited on the
SI at form it was writhing and hissing
crcely. Buni bent over the cago and
fixed his eyes upon its occupant, gently
waving ills hand over the serpent's rest
less head. In less Llian a minute the
snake stretched itself out, stiffened, and
lay apparently dead. Buni took it up
and thrust several needles into its body,
but it gave no sign of life. A few
passes then restored it to its former
angry a tivity. Subsequently a savage
dog. held in a leash by its owner, was
brought in, and, at Bunl's command, let
loose upon him. As it was manic? to
ward him, bristling with fury, Uc raised
ills hand, and in a second uie fierce
brute dropped upon its oe.!y as though
it was stricken bv lightning. It seemed
absolutely paralysed oy ome unknown
agency, and waa unable to move a
muscle until released iron: the mag
neliser's spell by a miyestic wave oi hit
hand.
One day during an eclipse of the sun
a boy sold smoked glasses at six cents
apiece. " You ougnt to make money,"
said a purchaser. "Yes," said the
young merchant, "ours would be a good
business If the dull season wen not so
sn *' M _
The Texas Pacific company has built
444 miles of railroad at a cost of #27,-
000,000. An additional 600 miles will
be completed by January 1,1865.
FIENT AMERICAN NEWSPAPER.
ISoma Account ol tha Hoitoo gnmlcl
tar. I'rlntart Una Hundred Toara A*o.
It is a fact worthy of record that in
Boston was made the first attempt to
set up a newspaper in North America,
and that this attempt dates back nearly
200 years—to the 2511 i of September, 1000.
Tlio title of this ancient sheet was Pub
lick (Jccurrencen, both Foreign and Do
mctlick. Only one number of this paper
is known to have been printed, and this
bore the date of September 25, 1000, but
whether it was suspended for lack of
patronage, or because the legislative
authorities spoke ot it as a pamphlet
published contrary to law. and contain
ing "reflections of a very high nature,"
is not known. It was printed by Ben
jamin Harris for Richard Pierce, and,
so fax as known, the only copy in ex
istence is deposited in the state paper
office in London. It was printed on
the first three sides of a folded sheet
two columns to a page, and each about
seven by eleven inches in size, and was
to have appeared once a month.
It is still a more significant and im
portant fact that the first newspaper
that was published in North America
was published in Boston. It was called
The Boston NCWS-IAUCV. and the initial
number bore the date of Monday. April
24, 1704. It was a half sheet of paper,
in size about twelve by eight inches,
made up in two pages lolio, with two
columns on each page. The title is in
Roman letters of the size; which print
ers call French canon, and under it arc
the words " printed by authority," in
old English. The imprint is: " Boston;
printed by B. Gieen; sold by Nicholas
Boone, at his shop nearthe old meeting
house." The proprietor was evidently
John Campbell, postmaster, as indi
cated by the following advertisement,
which was the only one the paper con
tained •
" This New.*-filler is to be continued
weekly: and all persons who have any
houses, lands, tenamonls, farms, ships,
vessels, goods, wares or merchandise,
etc., to be sold or let; or servants runa
way, or goods stolen or lost; may have
the same inserted at a reasonable rate,
from twelve pence to tivc shillings, and
not to exceed: Who may agree with
John Campbel, postmaster of Bos
ton. All persons in town or country
may have the Ntws-lMter weekly,
yearly, upon reasonable terms, agree ing
with John Campbel, postmaster, for the
same."
Campbell was a Scotchman, and be
sides attending to his duties as postmas
ter and editor ami publisher of the
Ntws-LtUer. did some business as book
seller. Judglngfrom copies of his pa
per, his literary accomplishments were
of a limited charatcter, for what little
original matter there is, is poorly con
structed, without regard to punctuation
or grammatical construction, and con
sisted mainly of his own business advir
tlsemenls. The paper was chiefly made
up of extracts from Ix>ndon papers,
which were necessarily several months
old. consequently its support was feeble,
anil its circulation limited. The paper
was issued weekly, and the second num
ber contains three printed pages, the
iourtb being left blank, evidently for the
want of news to fill up. This piece of
enterprise was apparently not appreci
ated, as but two pages appeared in the
next number, and ah-o in the issues for
manyyears thereafter. Up to November
3. 17of. the NCWS-IAUCT was printed by
Bartholomew Green, and from that date
to October 2, 1711, it was " Printed by
John Allen in Pudding-lane (now Dev
onshire street), and sold at the postcffice
in Uornhill (than a part of Washington
street)." At that time the postofflce and
Allen sprinting office were destroyed by
fire, and the paper was again printed by
B. Green, for John Campbell, postmas
ter. till the end of the year 1722.
Campbell made frequent importuna'. c
calls upon the public to support his en
terprise, "so as to enable the under
taker to carry it on effectually." In
January. 1719, Campbell proposed pub
lishing his paper on a whole sheet.
" because with half a sheet a week it is
impossible lo carry on all the publick
news of Europe; " but his expectations
were far from realized, judging from
his statement that " the Undertaker
had not suitable encouragement, even
to print half a Sheet Weekly, seeing
that lie cannot vend 300 at an Impres
sion, tho' some ignorantly concludes he
Sells upwards of n Thousand; far less
Is he able to print a sheet every other
Week, without an Addition of 4, or 8
Shillings a Year, as everyone thinks fit
to give payable Quarterly, which will
only help to pay for Tress and Paper,
giving his labor tor nothing." In the
latter part of the same year another
postmaster was appointed, who began
the publication ola rival newspaper.
This disturbed Campbel] greatly, and
when, in 1721, James Franklin estab
lished a third newspaper, the New
Knglarul VMr ant, his ire was aroused,
and he expressed his feelings in the
News-Ijetlcr more forcibly than elo
quently, as follows:
"On Monday Inst, the 7th Currant,
came forth a Third Newspaper in this
town, entitled the New England (\mr
rani, by Homo non unius Ncgotli ; or
Jack of all Trades, and it would seem.
Good at none, giving some very, very
frothy fulsome Account of himself, but
lest the Continuance of that style should
offend his readers; wherein with sub
mission (I speak for the publisher of
this intelligence, whose endeavors have
always bean to give no offense, not
meddling with things outside his own
Province.) The said Jack promises in
pretense of Friendship to the other News
Publishers to amend like Ale in Summer,
Reflecting too, too much that my per
formances are now and then very, very
Dull, misrepresenting my candid en
deavors (according to the Talent of my
Capacity and Education; not soaring
above my Sphere) in giving a true and
genuine account of all Matters of Kan.
both Foreign and Domcstick, and well
Attested, for these Seventeen Tears and
half past," etc.
The quarrel between these two papers
added to the prosperity of both for a
while, and for two months Campbell
issued a whole sheet every week, but
at the.expiration of that time the News-
Letter was rednni to its original di
mensions. No copies of the early num
bers of Franklin's papers are in exist
ence, but It is safe to assume that his
replies were <quallv as caustic and
bitter. Tbefllei of the News-letter
down to 1722, when Bartholomew
Green became proprietor, are very im
perfect, but Uie most oomplete are
found in the library of the Massachu
setts Historical society in this city, and
these are alt bound in two volumes,
embracing not half ol the numbers for
the years previous to 1790. The New-
I Alter was printed upon the coarse
p'per In use at that day, and as the type
was of the ancient order, with " Pa" for
"•V its print is rather difecult to de
cipher, but well repays one lor the
effort. As previously stated, most 01
the matter is copied from the Ix>ndon
papers, but occasionally there is refer
ence t<< local events, which are remark
able aliko for their quaintness of compo
sition and the singular character of the
events recorded. The Newt-letter was
published without interruption for a
period of seventy-two years, and was the
only paper printed in Boston during
the siege.
I'erurian Village Life.
Ernest Morris, the young American
naturalist, who is on an exploring tour
along the hanks of the Amazon, draws
this interesting picture of a Peruvian
village: The Iquitos of 'o-day has a
population 0f2,5i>0, and is a quiet, s cepy
place, as are all villages on the great
Amazon. The principal business of the
place is conducted by foreigners, and
their stores are stocked with foreign
articles, ail of which, however, are very
dear. For example: Flour is worm
twenty-two dollars per barrel; butter,
in cans, one dollar per pound ; coffee,
tnirly cents per pound; tea, in c,:n,
three dollars per pound; shoes, French,
seven to ten dollars per pair (I never
have seen a pair of American-made
shoes on the Amazon); coarse prints,
thirty cents to tifty cents per yard;
rice, three dollars for twenty-nine
pounds. House rent is very dear,
from ten to tw< nty dollars per
month, but liquors and onions •< .
cheap. It may besaid without r-xagzer
ation that the Indian population ot
Iquitoes subsists on the last mentioned
articles—onions by day and liquor by
night. The inhabitants amuse them
selves by dancing the fandango. When
a schoolboy I read often of the Spanish
dance called the fandango, and I aiWays
associated with it a bright starlit night
in the tropics. A dance in open air
under the shadow of the great palms;
young girls with countless lire-flies in
their hair; dark, swarthy-looking men.
with broad-brim hats, smoking large
cigarettes—ali this did I read of. and I
longed to see this Spanish dance. Since
I have been in l'eru I have witn''ed
nianv of the dances of these people, and
the fandango so caiit d is. I regrc t to .••ay.
nothing more orlr*; in my opinion th in
a drunk'n orgy. 1 have witnessed no
dances under the palms, seen no swarthy
men, but 1 am bound to say that fire
flits are no? wanted to set off the beauty
of these Indian girls. Though Iquitos
has no inn. yet two billiard ana gam
bling saloons are to be found, in one of
which the Willi are decorated with a
most fanciful likeness of Columbia sur
rounded by the eagle and shield; her
re be is most gracefully pinned up, and
in her hand she holds a bottle which
sets forth on its label the excellences ot
American champagne. 1 mention the
above, as the picture al ways attracts a
great deal of attention, and 1 have been
repeatedly asked if the scnoritas of my
country were as pretty as Columbia, f
always answer in the affirmative. The
major iiv of the inhabitants of Iquitos
are of Indian or mixed blood, and in
general appearance differ greatly from
ttie Indian population of the villages of
the Lower Amazon. The men are al,
below the average stature, with pale,
sallow complexions, coarse black hair,
and whose deeply sunken ryes tell too
plainly of nights spent in drunken rev
elry. In all the Brnzidan villages on
the Amazon combined 1 have never seen
one-tenth part of the drunkenness that I
witnessed daring my stay in lauitos.
As to women, I will say but little, lest
I should be called a second Gibbon,
who. you will remember, was constantly
writing ot the pretty girls he met with
during his journey through Peru and
Bolivia. Those ot Iquitos are beautiful,
and the ease with which they can roJ
and smoke a cigarette, drink a glass nf
liquor and assume modesty will astonish
a stranger. It must be remembered
that the above remarks apply only to
the Indians and Creoles. Of the higher
class I wish to sav nothing.
Indigo Factory,
Have you ever thought what indigo
is. and where it comes from t Near the
city of Ailahabnd, in India, our mis
sionaries may see the little indigo plan
growing, and tLe factory where our in
digo is prepared for use. The follow
ing account of the preparation of the
indigo from the plant was given by the
proprietor to one who traveled in that
country:
It is the young shoots of the bumble
plant you see before you which provide
us with the precious material for dyeing,
and not the flowers, as is common,y
supposed. The gathering of these
shoots is a very delicate operation.
When they have arrived at a proper de
gre Of maturity, they must be speedily
removed, and rich cutting must beexe
cuted with rapidity and during the
niglit, for the sun would wither t.,e
branches, and deprive them of their
properties. We therefore re-quire a
great many hands; all the villagers on
my estate are placid in requisition. The
workmen are all dispersed in the fields
at midnight; and in the morning the
produce of the harvest is deposited in
these stone troughs, which have been
previously filled with water. Then is
the time tor the sun to nerfrm its part.
Under the Influence of ft* rays the sub
stances undergo a species of fermenta
tion; the water becomes colored with
variegated tinges and rapidly turn*
blue. Alter a space ot about fort y-eight
hours, the liquid is drawn off from the
smallest troughs. It now emits a
slightly ammoniacal smell, and the color
is almost black. It is allowed to evapo
rate again, and is then placed in meul
vats, heated by steam, in which, when
the evaporation has ceased, a deposit of
Cre inaigo is formed. It only remains
dry thfi deposit, pack it, and send it
to the market at Calcutta.
Altitude •! < kurrk To wars.
The Cologne GantU stales that the
lowers *>f Cologne cathedra] are now
the highest fn the worM, the height
they have attained being five feet higher
than the towers of St. Mcholas' chorcn
in Hamburg, whkh has hitherto been
the highest edifice. Ultimately they
will be 61 ft. 10 In. higher. The follow
ing are given as the heights of the chief
lofty buildings in ths world i Towers of
Cologne cathedral, 594 ft. II in. from
the pavement of the cloisters, or Sift ft
-1 tn. from the floor of the chnrch; tower
of St. Nicholas, at Hamburg, 473 ft. 1
In.; eupolA of 81. Peter's. Rome. 4<W ft.
9ln -; cathedral spire at Strnahurg. 4
ft. Ilia.; pyramid of Cheops. 449 ft.
ft In.: tower of Bt. Stephens, Vienna.
443 ft. 10 in.; tower ot St, Martin's,
Laariihut, 434 It. 8 in.; cathedral spire
at Freiburg, 410 ft. I In.; cathedral ot
Antwerp, 404 ft. 10 fn.; cathedral of
Florcnoe, 390 ft. ft In.; St. Paul's. Lon
don, 383 ft. I In.; ridge tiles of Cologne
cathedral, 300 ft. 3 in.