The Wingham Advance, 1889-01-10, Page 4STATISTICS.
From the Smithsonian report of 1885 it
appears that the several Indian wars alter
1776, including the war of 1812 in the West
and Northwest, the Creek, black Hawk,
and Simiuole were, up to 1860, were bloody
and costly,
The Sandwich Island alphabet has only
12 letters; the Burmese, 19; the Italian, 20;
the Bengaleee, 2 t ; the Hebrew. Syriac, Cha-
d., Samaritan and Letin, 22 each ; the
French, 23 ; the Greek 24 ; the German and
Dutch, 26 oath; the Spanish and Slavonic,
27 each ; tee Arabic has IS ; the Persian and
Coptic, 39 ; the Georgian, 35; the Armenian,
38 ; the Russian, 41; the Muscovite, 43 ; the
Sanecrit and Japanese, 50; the Ethiopic sad
Tartaric, 202.
The Bureau of Statistica of Illinois has
been collecting information about the farm
mortgagee in the State. Leaving out Cook
County, in which Chicago is situated, as
being in exceptional circumstance., there
are 90,399 mortgages on 7,962,354 acres,
for $123,733,098. la the whole State there
are 34,694,172 acres. The percentage un ler
mortgage is 23. 2S. The average rate of
intermit is 6.9 per cent. The number and
amount of .the mortgagee have increased
about 60 per cent. in seventeen years. la
the meantime the selling value of the land
hoe fallen at least 30 per cent.
Except when engaged in war with Great
Britain and Mexioo, or during the rebellion
(1860 65), the Caked States army was al-
most entirely used for the Indian- service
and stationed largely In the Indian country
or along the frontier. It will be fair to es-
timate, taking out the years of foreign ware
with England (1812.15), $66,614,912,34, and
with Mexico (1848 48), $73,941,735,12, and
the rebellion (1861-65) and rceoustruotion
(1865 70), $3,374, 359,360,02, that more than
three-fourths of the total expense of the
army is ohargeable, directly or indirectly,
to the Indians. (During our foreign wars,
and the rebellion as well, many of the Indian
tribes were at war with on, and others were
a constant danger, a large force being saw-
.ry to hold them in neje:diem Seth, ex-
pense on this account le dropped from the
estimate.)
" We are so accustomed to think of the
enormous population of India says the "Pall
Mall Gazette," "that we find it hard to rea-
lize that the excessive density of the popula-
tion is largely local, and that there is still an
immense amount of elbow-room in our great
dependency. This face is well brought out
in the new number of the ` Statistical Ab-
stract for British India' recently published.
Cf the total area, 364,000 000, sores, under
the direct administration of England, only
152,000,000 acres are under cultivation. A
very large portion of the remainder is return-
ed as unfit for oultivation, and the foreste
are credited with 40,000,000 acres, but there
still remains no less than 80,500,000 cultiv-
able scree at yet untouched by the nlow. At
the present time the population of British In
ate, to 2A1,000,000 an, 4o5e a e.tuplia
seta in arithmetic will ;Mew that there is
still room for another 1010,000,000 people
without any additional squeezing."
The total army expense from March 4,
1789, to June 30, 1886, was $4,559,419,924.
Deducting $3,514,911,0(/ .8tor foreign wars
and the rebellion, the remainder is 11,044,
508 916.25.0.
Tw'o'-thirds of this sum, it le eetimatod,
was expanded for war and other services
incidental to thelndlans, viz., $696,339,277,
68, fortfications, poste, eto., tieing dente.
ted. t -
Total cost of the Indians to the United
State..
Indian Department propet
from July 7, 1776, to June
30, 1886 6232,900,0J'
Expended by War Depart-
ment for Indian wars and
incidental thereto from
July 4, 1776, to Jane 30,
1886 696,
Total 6929,239,2
Almost a thousand minim dollars.
A most important document in regard to
the history of strikes is the last annual re-
port of the U. S. Secretary of the interior.
From the statistics given it appears that for
the six years from 1881 to 1086 the strikes
membered 3,902, the nun.ber of establith-
meets involved was 22,304, and the number
of employes thrown out of employment foot-
ed up 1,323,203. From the beet information
°learnable the loss to the strikers for the six
years was but little short of $52,000,000. and
the loss to employers through lockouts was
over $8,000,000, or say a total wage loss, in
round numbers, of $60,000,000. The em-
ployers' lames through strike. for the same
six years amounted to $30,701,000; through
lockouts to $3,462000--or a total lose to
the establishments involved in both strikes
and lockouts of $34,163,600. Of the 22,304
establishments in which strikes matured in
the els years
'
82,24 per cent. of the whole
were ordered by labour organizations; while
of the 2,214 establishments an which lockout.
occurred 1,573. or 79.18 per mini., were
ordered by combinations of managers. Sec-
cue for these striaas and lockouts was
achieved in nearly 47 per cent. of the tenth-
liehmente affected; partial mean in almost •
131 per cent. of them ; and failure followed
in 10,375 establishments, or a trifle more
than 461 per cent, of the whole.
A Trap-Boor Spider's Hest.
In a recent number of Psyche, Mr. Geo.
F. Atkineon described the ingenious manner
in which a apedes of trap-door spider con-
structs in- nest for the evident purpose of
entrapping the unwary inmate that, they
might be " gobbled in."
A nest, which he examined, had two
tubes or chambers, the main one about nine
inches long, with the door opening at the
surface of the greens, the branch about one
inch long and placed aix inches below the
surface of the foot-path, in which the nest
wee constructed. The spider would open
the outer door, enter the branch and dose
that door after her, and there await results.
Hungry insects, crawling on the ground,
would find the open tube an attractive place,
entering and passing beyond a branch door,
which is suddenly thrown open, they, much
to their surprise, find themselves taken cap-
tive and made a meal of by the [running
spider.
The Outward Indications.
The little boy had come in with his clothes
torn, hie hair full of dust and his face booz-
ing unmistakable signs of a severe conflict.
"Oh, Willie! Willie I" exclaimed hie mother,
deeply .booked and grieved, "you have die-
obeyed me again. How often have I told
you not to play with that wicked Stapleford
boy I" "Mamma," said Willie, do I look
as if I had been playing with anybody 1"
P. T. Barnum, the veteran showman, ban
made hie will, and Matched to it the affi-
davit of two prominent physicians stating
that the eminent showman was, at the time
the will was drafted, in his right mind.
-\..t.? .‘„,„,,R.o_
uGH
.,.1......,....No IT IN THE EAo
S 1111 H."
'N.
1'1
CHAPTER XVIII.
Wiest did these words Imply ?—an exten-
sion of his visit? I hoped that I was mistaken;
but before I could lose any time in conjecture
my husband awoke. The fit had left him,
and he rose and dressed himeelf, and was
soon chatting oheerfully with his guest.
Mr. Malcolm now informed him that he
was hiding from the sheriff of the N
district's officers, and that it would be coon-
tort ing upon him a great favour ti be wooed
allow him to remain at his home for a fdw
weeks.
To tell you the troth, Malcolm," said
Moodie, " we are go badly off that we eon
scarcely find food for °wolvee and the
children. It is out of our power to make
you comfortable, or to keep an additional
hand, without he is willing to tender some
little help on the farm, If you can do this,
I will endeavour to get a IOW necessaries on
credit, to make your May more egreeable."
To this proposition Malcolm readily assent-
ed, not only because it released him from all
sense of obligation, but beceuse it gave him
a Iitlieng: tratgLImsbtaley.
might extend to so
Indefinite period, I got Jacob to construet a
rude bedstead out of two largo chests that
had transported some of our goode across
the Atlantic, and which he put up in scorner
of the parlour. This I provided with a small
haironattrces, and foirnished with what bed-
ding I could errant.
For the first fortnight of his sojourn, our
guest did nothing bat lie upon that bed, and
read, and smoke, and drink whiekey-and.
water from morning until night. By degrees
he let out part of hie hietory ; but there was
a mystery about him which he took good
oars never to clear up. He was the son of
an officer in the navy, who had not only
attained a very high reek in the service but,
for his gallant conduct, had been made: a
Knight.Companion of the Bath.
His shrewd cbservations and great con.
variational powets had first attracted my
hesbanda attention, and, as men seldom
chow their bad qualities on a journey, he
thought him a blunt, good fellow, who had
travelled a great deal, and could render him-
self a very agreeable companieraby a graphic
relation of his adventures. He could be all
this, when he oboe to relax from his sullen,
morose mood and, much as I disliked him,
I have listened with interest for hours to leis
droll descriptions of South American life and
manners.
He had himself served his time as a mid.
shipman on board his father's flag-ship, but
bad left the navy and accepted a commission
in the Buenos. Ayreen service during the
political struggles in that province; he had
commanded a eine of privateer under the
government, to whom, by his own carnet,
he had rendered many very signal cervices.
Why he left South America and came to
Canada he kept a profound secret. He had
Indulged in very vicious end very dissipated
courses since he come to the province, and
by his own account had spent upwards of
four thousand pounds, in a manner not over
creditable to himself. Finding that his
friends would answer hie bills no longer, he
took poseeseion of a grant of land obtained
'trough hie father's interest, up in Harvey,
a barren township on the shores of Stony
Lake, and, after putting up his shanty, and
expeneing ell his remaining means, he found
that he did not possess one acre out of the
whole four hundred that would yield a
crop at potato.. Hewoo now coneiderably
in debt, and the land e, such as they were,
had been traced, with ail his effects, by the
sheriff, and a warrant wee out for his own
apprehension, which he contrived to elude
during his sojourn with us . Money, he had
none and, beyond the dirty fearnought
blue se man's jacket which he wore, a pair
of trousers of the coaree cloth of the country,
-an old black vest that had seen better days,
and two blue checked shirts, clothes he had
none. He shaved bat once a week,
never combed: his hair, and never washed
himself. A dirtier or more slovenly ores
tura Ilt.V.r before was dignified by the title
of a gentleman. He was, however, a man
of good education, of excellent abilltien and
poisoned a bitter, sarcastic knowledge of
the world.; but he was selfish and unprin.
aphid in the highest degree.
Naturelle indolent, and a constitatimal
grumbler, it was with the greatest difficulty
that Moodie could get him to do anything
beyond bringing a few pails of water from
the swamp for the use of the house, and he
has often passed me carrying water up from
the lake without offering to relieve me of the
burden. Mary, the betrothed of Jacob,
called him a perfect " beaat ;" but he, re-
turning good for evil, considered her a very
pretty girl, and paid her so many uncouth
attentione teat he roused the jealousy of
honest Jake, who vowed that he would give
him a good " loomping " If he only dared to
lay a finger upon his sweetheart. With
Jacob to back her, Mary treated the zee.
bear," as Jacob termed him, with vest dis-
dain, and was en saucy to him that, forget.
ting his admiration, he declared he would
like to serve her as the Indians had done
a scolding woman in South America. They
attacked her house during the absence of
her husband, cut out her tongue, and nailed
it to the door, by way of a knocker ; and he
thought that ell women who could not keep
a civil tont,ue in their heed should be served
in the same manner,
"And what should be done to men who
swear and use ondaeent language?" quoth
Mary, indignantly. "Their tongues should
be slit and given to the dogs. Faugh I
Yen are such a nasty fellow that I don't
think Hector would eat your tongue."
I'll kill that beast," muttered Malcolm,
as he walked away.
1 remonstrated with trim on the impro.
preety of bandying words with our servants.
• Yon see," I said, "the disrespect with
which they treat you ; and if they presume
upon your familiarity, to speak to our guest
in this contemptuous manner, they will soon
extend the same conduct to us."
But, Mrs. Moodie, you should reprove
them."
I cannot sir, while you continue, by
taking liberties with the girl, and swearing
at the men, to provoke them to retaliation.'
"Swearing I What harm is there in
wearing? A sailor cannot live without
oaths."
"Beta gentleman might, Mr. Malcolm.
I should be sorry to consider you in any
other light."
Ah, you are each a prude—so method-
iatical—you make no allowance fir circum.
stances? Surely in the woods we may dis-
pense with the hypocritical, conventional
forme of society, and speak and act as we
please."
" So you seem to think ; but you s
result."
I have never been treed to the moiety of
ladies, and I cannot fashion my words to
please them; and I won't, that's more I"
he muttered to himself as he strode off to
Moodie in the field. I wished from my very
heart that he wee once more on the deck of
his piratical South American craft.
0 eight he insisted on going out ie the
canoe to spear mask'
The evening turned o
and, before twelve, t
one fah, and half
coke had got twin
fussed, and walke and swore, and quarrelled
with everyb and everything, until
Moodie, who as highly amused by his
petulance, a bed him to go to hie bed, and
pray for the, appy restoration of hie tem-
Per. " Temper l" be cried, I don't believe
there's a good-tempered person in the world.
It's all hypocrisy ! I never had a gore:Mom-
per I Mymother was an ill-tempered woman,
and filled my father, who was a confoundedly
severe, domineering man. I was heroin an
ill-temper. I was an Chtempered child ; I
grow up an ill-tempered man. 1 feel worse
than ill-tempered now, end when I die it
will be in an ill. temper."
" Well," qouth I, "Moodie has made you
a tumbler of hob punch, which may help to
drive out the cold and the ill-temper, and
rare the rheumatism."
`` Ay ; your hatband'. a good fellow, and
worth two of you, Mrs. Moodie. He makes
some allowance for the weakness of human
nature, and can excuse even my ill-tam
Per." I did not choose to bandy words with him,
and the next day the unfortunate creature
was shaking with the ages. A more un-
tractable, outrageous, in--patient I never
had the Ili-fortune to nurse. During the
cold fit, he did nothing but swear at the
cold, and wished himself rotating; and dur
Lag the fever, ho swore at the heat, and
wished that he was sitting, with no other
garment than his shirt, on the north side of
an iceberg. And when the fit at last left
him, he got up, and ate such quantities'of
at pork, and drank so much whiskey-punch,
that you would have imagined he had just
arrived from a long journey, end had not
tasted food for a couple of days,
Ho would not ballade that fishing in the
cold night-air upon the water had made him
ill, betrayed that it was all my fault for
having laid my baby down on his bed while
it was shaking with the ague.
Yet, if there were the least tenderness
mixed up in his iron nature, is woe the
affection he displayed for that young child.
Dunbar was just twenty months old, w ilk
bright, dark eyes, dimpled cheeks, and soft,
flowing, golden hair, which fell round his
infant face in rich curls. The merry. con-
fiding little creature formed such a contrast
to his own surly, unyielding temper, that,
perhaps, that very circumstance made the
bond of union between them. When in the
house, the little boy was seldom out of his
acme, and whatever were Malcolm's faults,
he had none in the eyes of the child, who
need to cling around his neck and kiss his
rough, unshaven cheeks with the greatest
fondness.
"If I could afford it, Moodie," he said
one day to my husband, " I should like to
marry. I want some one upon whom I
could wreak my affections." And wonting
that some one in the form of a woman, he
contented himself with venting them upon
the child.
As the spring advanced, and after Naito
left cc, he seemed ashamed of sitting In the
house doiog nothing, and therefore under-
took to make lls a garden, or "to make
garden," as the Canadian term is for prepar-
ing a tow vegetables for the season. I produr•
ea the neeeesary coeds, end watched with
no email imprint the industry with which
our strange visitor commenced operations.
He repaired the broken fence, dug the ground
with the greatest care, and laid it out with a
skill and neatness of which I had believed
him perfectly incapable. In lees than three
weeks, the whole plot presented a very
pleasing prospect, and he was really elat..W
by his success.
"At any rate," mid he, " we shall no
longer be starved on bad flour and potatoes.
We shall have pees, and beans, and beets,
and carrots, and cabbage in abundance;
besides, the plot I have reserved for encum-
bers and melons."
" A h," thought 1; does he, inked, mean
to stay with us until the whoa are ripe?"
and my heart died within me, for he not only
was a great additional expense, but he gave
a great deal of additional trouble, and en-
tirely robbed us of all privacy, ss our very
parlour was converted into a bed room for
his accommodation ; besides that, a man of
his singularly dirty habits made a very
disagreeable inmate
upon the grass. The of pa on. I gath-
ered myself up and rein horn Mal.
calm wee very fond of no milk, 'and he
came to meet me at thedoo
"Hi I hi I—Where's the k?"
"No milk for the pow c dron to-day,"
said I, showing him the ins of the pail,
with a sorrowful shako of a head; for it
woe no small loss to them a
" how the devil's that So you were
afraid to milk the cows. a me away, and
I will keep off the baggab
"I did milk them—no hacks toy our
kindness, Mr. Malcolm-1
"But what?"
" The ox frightened me, d I fe and
spilt all the milk."
Whew I Now don't and tell your
husband that it was all my ; if yoe had
had &little patience, I won eve come when
you raked me, but I don't c tc be dic-
tated to, and I won't be a slave by
you or any one else."
"Then why do yes stay,, where you
consider yourself so treated . saidv L "We
are all obliged to work to oh in bread ; we
give you the beet share--en, ly the return
we ask for it is but smell."
"Yon make me feel my o• gations to you
when you ask me to do I, log '• if you
left it to my better feeliuge should get on
be ‘teP%;haps you are right. Will never
ask you to do anything for Intern"
" Oh, now, that is all mac umility. In
spite of the tears in your ey you are as
angry with me as ever; but }lona go and
make min:thief between me and, Moodie. If
you'll say nothing about my refasiog to gp
with you, I'll milk the cows for you myself
tonight."
"And can you milk 1" said I, with ewe
curiosity,
" Milk; Yes- and if I were RONDO Confound.
eddy low-spirited and — lazy, I could do a
thousand other things too. But neor don't
say a word about it to Moodie."
I made no promise ; but my respect for
him was not increased by his cowardly fear
of reproof from Moodie, who treated him
with a kindness and consideration which he
did not deserve.
The afternoon turned out very wet,
and I was sorry that I should be
troubled with his company all day in the
house. I was making a shirt for Moodie
from some cotten chat had been sent me
from home, end he pieced himself by the side
of the stove, just opposite, and continued to
regard me for a long time with his used
than stare. I really Jett half afraid of
him,
" Don't you think me mad V' said he. "I
kayo a brother deranged ; he got a stroke of
the one in India, and lost his senses in con.
acq.uence ; but sometimes, I think it rune to
the family."
What answer could 1 give to this speech,
bet mere evasive common place I
" You won't say what you really think,"
he continued ; " I know you ham me, and
that makes me dislike you. Now what
would you say if I told you I had committed
a murder, and that it was the recollection
of the circumstance that made me at times
so reatleas aud unhappy,"
I looked up in his face not knowing what
to believe.
(To xx mem-ow)
A Voice From the Departed.
1 shine in the light of God.
His likeness stamp. my brow,
Through the valley of deathmy feet hat e trod,
And I reign in glory now.
No breaking heart is here,
'Nu keen and thrilling pain,
No wasted cheek, where the frequent tear
Math rolled and left its ;wain.
I have found the joy of heaven,
I am one of the angel band.
To my bead a crown is given,
And a harp Is in my hand.
1 have learned the song they sing,
Whom Josue bath mule free,
And the glorioce walls on high still ring,
With my new-born melody.
No sin— no grief—no pain—
Safe in my happy home—
My foam allfied—my doubts allelain—
My hour of triumph come-
0 friend of my mortal years I
The trusted and the tried,
Thou art walking still in the valley of tear;
Bat I am at they side.
Do I forget Oh no I
For Memorya golden chain
Shall bind my heart to the heart below,
1111 they meet and touch again.
Each link is strong and bright,
And love's Webb flame
Flows Weeiy down, like a river of light,
To the world from which I came.
Do you mourn when mother star
Shines out from the glittering sky ?
Do you weep when the noise of war
And the rage of et:millet die?
Then why should your tears roll down,
And your soul be sorely riven,
For another gem in the Saviour's crown,
And another cool in Heaven?
Bay. LUZERN& Ran,
Thought It Was Satan /limed.
One of the mew of a Nova Scetian vessel,
a native of the Green Isle, expressed a wish
to visit the dime museums the other day,
and having been directed by the cepa&
where to find one took his way thither, say-
ing Sc he left the vessel
I never raw wan afore an' I expect to
enjoy myself."
He had never seen one before, had never
seen even an orang-outang and was greatly
astonished on beholdarg one of these animals.
On his return to the vessel the captain
asked him If he had minced himself.
"Enjoy myself Never better."
" What did you see?"
ed hat did I sae? Why, cap, I saw the
divil himself, ti id an like fate and fate
like hand, l"—[Boston Courier.
He Had the Best of it.
How t much wit, yon give me on tide
overcoat ?" asked seseedy-lookingman of the
functionary in the pawnirokera shop.
" Fitly cents," was the reply that follow.
eda glance at the garment.
"You ought to give me a couple of dollars,
anyhow. The Boat ain't worth leas than fift-
toen dotter."
" My friend, I vouldn't giv you six dol.
lore vor dot ofergcet. It ain't verde it, so
hellup me gracious."
Would yon take six dollars for it if it
was yours?"
"}Sy friandt, I would take five miller for
dot ofercoat."
" All right, here's your five. It was hang-
ing out in front of the store, and I brought
tt in to see how much it was worth."
Here, stop, dot was a schvindle."
"Well, I should say so, Yon bad it mark-
ed at thirty-five dollars, you old rascal.
Well, so Meg, uncle."
It is not sufficient not to intend to do
wrong; we must intend to do eight, a nd
carry out intentions also.
LATEST BY CABLE.
Egland Aroused by Another Murder—The
Weather in Europe—Gladstone's Birth-
day.
After nearly two months' immunity from
Whitechapel murders England was startled
the other day by the announcement of a
crime committed in (Bradfoid, Yorkshice
which, in its horrible detail., fully.equal the
atrocious work with which the East End of
London bee become familiar. The methods
of the Bradford murderer are strikingly sim-
Her to those emptoyed in London, but in-
st ead of a women, the victim is a little boy,
who seems to have been lured from his home,
and cut up se thoroughly as any Jack the
Ripper's prey. Dude Johnny Gill was
playing in the streets on Thursday morning.
He was last seen alive in the afternoon tak-
ing a ride in a milk van. The driver of the
van has been arrested, but it is pretty certain
ho had nothing to do with the crime. He
says he set the boy down in the most fashion-
able part of Bradford,
Johnny Gill did not come home on Thera
day evening, and his parents, alarmed foe
his safety, advertised the feet of hie disap-
pearance in the local newspapers. On Fri-
day the police Wok the matter M hand, but
no newew.obtaineduntileaturday morning,
when the poor boy's body wan found indes-
cribably mutilated in an outhouse a mile or
so away from where he was last seen alive,
The body wae perfectly naked, and was
n aid on the boy's vest and trousers, his
japket being thrown over his face. Strange
teensy, there was little if any blood on the
clothing, and this, with other indications,
makes it probable that the crime was per-
petrated at leisure inside a house and the
mutilated corpse afterward removed to the
spot where it was found.
The weather in Europe certainly deserves
attention. It le so extraordinary both
in leaden and in Paris that the very old-
est inhabitant creates no excitement, because
everybody knows perfectly well that he has
never seen anything like it. The tempera-
ture has been practically what it was het
July, ,and this is destined tq be known to
future generations ae the flpyrery Chriet-
mas In London flowers eel blooming in
every direction, and in Perim the Boulevard
cafe sidewalks are crowded with Frenchmen
sipping their absinth. and enjoying the
warm air and sunshine. Barelegged child-
ren are disporting themselves to, the Toil
odes gardener, where the French agrees and
firemen still carry on mild flirtations that
nasally end in October.
The Liberals are always exceptionally
hopeful and entaushatio upon the birthday
of their leader. To-day they are cheerfully
asking one another why Mr. Gladstone
should not live as long as Viscount Eversley,
the former Speaker of the House 'of Com-
mons, who died recently at the age of 95,
fell of intellectual vigor to the last. Da
Lamps is three years older than catadsbone,
and is to all appearance. good for many
years of hard work. lewd Palmereton died
in the harness at the age of 91, and might
have lived ten years longer or more had he
taken as much care of himself -as Gladstone
does. "Why, in short," asks an anthem
Retie editor, " should not the Grand Old
Man rival the octogenarian, the blind old
Depaolo, who became Doge of Venice when
he was Si, and, after going cruising and be'
sieging Conetantinople, died at halt at the
respectable age of 97 ?"
Another Sondan War.
Diegusted as Britain is with the prospect,
likelihoods seem to be that she has another
Soudan war on her hands. It may be true
as some think, that not Britain alone, but
Germany also, and other representetivee of
Christendom may be involved before all is
done, and that the clash of conflict between
the religions of Islam and of Christ may re-
tatted throughout the African continent,
wherever Mohammedanism has planted its
banner. For Islam knows that the pre-
sent attitude of Christendom is hos-
tile to the slave trade, and anything
like the preaching of a crusade amenst that
frightful iniquity would certainly be followed
by she proolamation of a holy war against
all Chriatiane. Religions zeal is apt to be
more fiery when material interests are boned
up with it, and It may safely be assumed
that the African slave trader. would not give
up their lucrative traffic without a struggle.
At the same time the feeling of civilization
is setting so strongly against that form of
barbarism that ultimately, however unwill-
ingly, there is likely to be a combination of
effort to crush it out, and a life and death
struggle between the Crescent and the Cross
will result. Whetter this realization of the
fact that their craft to in danger be the
remit of the recently increased activity on
the pert of the Malvin the fact that he is
becoming increasingly aggresolve admits of
no question. His forces are presaine ce
Suakim with great vigor; and there seems
to be little doubt that he has got both Stan•
ley and Emin Bay in his clutches. At
present writing Britain has not made up her
mind what she will do, but the urgency of
the occasion fa rem to be such that even the
Irish question for the moment is thrust out
of eight. The probabilities, as already said,
seem to point in the direction of war, of war
wetly and bloody, for England has under-
taken r.poneibilities iu Egypt which she
cannot with honour abandon. It is safe to
any that the Medhi will not condescend to
recognise the Khedive, but will treat with
Great Britain or not at all. Students of
Bible prophecy will do well to watch events
in those African regions, very closely, since
it seems likely that things are tending to-
wards results in Egypt which will throw
material light on Interpretation.
Why Teeth Decay.
Deasy of the teeth (caries) im exceedingly
common, especially so among civilized peo-
ple. The lack of power to cadet this disease
may be due to the depression of vital vigor
through over-taxing the nervous system, or
through sedentary habits and luxurious
living. In chit, as In other matters, there
are inherited tendeeiciee, and. the children
of those whose teeth decay early themselves
suffer the same evil.
But what is the immediate cause of den-
tal decay ? A paper on the 'abject was read
by Dr. George S. Allen, of New York, be-
fore a meeting of the Dental Union, lately
held In Boston.
According to this paper, the credit of
solving the question belongs to Dr. W. D.
Miller, an American raiding in Berlin.
Germany. The !rotation is found in the
germ theory, which has already settled the
origin of so many infectious diseases.
The microscopic germs, which are called
bacteria, the smallest of organized beings,
so small that it takes one hundred thousand
of them placed length-wine to measure an
inch, belong to the plant family. They
multiply both by division and by the for-
mation of &pores The spores—which cor-
respond to seeds—have great vitality, and
are neaffected by the temperature that
would destroy the parent plant. The mul-
tiplication by divide. is exceedingly rapid.
Thar the total eradication of the germs is
almost out of the question, and in even a
short time, if the peel be neglected, it be.
comes difficult to limit the harm they can
do. That harm may he effeoted either by
the growth of the bacteria at the expense
of the cells of the body, or, more probably,
perhaps, by developing a poison in their
waste products.
It must be remembered, however, that
many kinds of bacteria are perfectly harm-
less, while it is possible that some aid in
the vital processes of the organiam.
The mouth is infested by emend forms
of innocent bacteria. The saliva is never
free from them, Therefore, in order to
ascertain if dental caries is due to bacteria
most rigorous teete were necessary. The
bacteria musb be found in the delayed
matter of the teeth ; be belated from every
other kind ; cultivated eatable of the body,
and the pure cultivation meet produce a
similar caries when introduced into a
healthy tooth, and this caries mace show
the same form of bacteria.
Dr. Miller's experiments have conformed
to these tests. He found bacteria filling
the tubules of the decayed teeth ; obtained
pure cultures from them, and, placing the
latter in tubes with pieces of bound teeth,
the microecopt in from two to four weeks
allowed a 'rimier caries, and the bibles dia•
tended with similar bacteria.
One of Many.
It was evening in the country,
Summer evening, calm, and still;
And the scent of new-mown clover
Seemed the drowsy air to fill.
Crowning all the trees with silver,
Rose the moon, serene and fair;
On the river gleamed the moonlight;
Peace and silence lingered there.
By the bank two figures wandered,
One a youth, and one a maid.
He in tender tones was pleading,
While she listened, half-afraid.
She was but a farmer'. daughter,
He, of noble name and great ;
But hie tempting voice was pleasant,
And she followed to her fate.
So that night she left her parents,
ler I her peaceful country home,
Far away in distant cities,
- With the one she loved to roam ;
Leaving only a brief letter
Telling them thet she had gone.
Gout with him who snore to cherish
And protect her from all wrong.
To the kind end loving parents
Sharp and bitter was the blow,
Bet they spoke no word of censure,
No reproach that she should go.
No 1 they left their home deserted,
And they wandered far and wide,
Hoping somewnere to discover
Tidings of their erring child.
It was evening in the city,
But no longer calm and still.
Noisy and discordant tumult
Seemed the stagnant air to filL
Hurrying crowds were jostling rudely
Those whom they might chance to meet.
Cries and wicked oaths resounded
Freely through the noisy street.
In a:tante-down old attic
Lay a maiden near to death;
Through the thin lips, perched with fever,
Feebly came the fluttering breath.
Only one brief year had vanished
Since she left her parents' care,
And that night, alone, deserted,
Slowly dying the lay there.
"Oh, my mother I" moaned she feebly,
" Would that yon were with me now I
Just that I might fee/ your cool hand
On my hot and fevered brow I"
On the staircase footsteps sounded,
Softly aped the garret door,
And the wandering one was taken
To her parents' arms once more.
Eagerly they spoke their pardon,
But the tool had permed away,
Naught remained to the bereaved ones
Save a lifeless piece of clay.
She had parsed from earthly sorrow,
To that country of the blest,
"Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary be at reel."
A. F. CARSON.
Moulton, Me.
Iont Thy Hands.
Loose not thy hold, 0 hand of God I
Or utterly we faint and falL
The way is rough, the way 's blind
And beffeted with stormy erne
Thick darkness veils above, below,
From whence we come, to what we go;
Feebly we grope o'er rook and sand,
But still go on, confiding all,
Lord, to thy hand.
In that strong hold salvation is ;
Its touch ie comfort in distress,
Cure for all Meknes% balm for ill,
And energy for heart and will.
Securely held, unfaltering,
The soul .n walk at ease and sing,
And fearless tread eachunknownstrand,
Leaving each large thing, and each lees,
Lore, in thy hand.
O mighty Friend, forever near I
O heavenly Help I so soon forgot,
So oft rebelled against and grieved,
Untlanked, diatrasted, disbelieved ?
Forgive us all, sod hold us fast
Till dawning lights the dark at last, .
And looknag back we understand,
How we were kept and knew it not,
Lord, by thy hand.
Oool no Wom For It.
That's cool," said the policeman,
when the burglar whom he had heard
falling into the waterbett, piteously asked
hint to help him one "Cool," moaned the
burglar. " Cool's sea word for it—it's
ieevlish eauld, that', what it is; help me
sot quick, or yell has the media o' oapeurin
dind men."
They Oozed.
Scene on the parlor sofa, half-past eleven
Saturday night.
Cholly (looking in her soulful eyes by the
gaolight dimly burning)—" Oo's on is oo ?"
Chippottina--" Ooa oo.
Cholly—" Oo I"
Chippettina—" Oo I"
Old Man (at the door)—" Ooeg.h-le I Ooze
out o' here, ye yoringg.lb°1" They armed.
In L spitted the test of oratory is seeing
who rattler off the meet words without stop-
ping to draw a breath, and the women gen-
erally come out ahead.
onge with Moodie.
very chill and foggy,
ey returned, with only
men with cold. Mal-
of rheumatism, and he
The only redeeming point in his charms
ter, in my eyes, woe his love for Dunbar.
could not entirely hate a man who was so
fondly attached to my child. To the two
little girls be was very creme and often
chased them from him with blows.
Ho had, too, an odious way of finding
fault with every thing. I never could cook
to please him ; and he tried In the moat
malicious way to induce Moodie to join in
hie complaints. All his schemes to make
strife between us, however, failed, and were
generally visited upon himeelf. In no way
did he ever seek to render me the least as-
sistance. Shortly after Jacob left us, Mary
Pine was offered higher wages bye family
at Peterborough, and for some time 1 was
left with four little children, and without a
servant. Moodie always milked the cows,
because I never could overcome my fear of
cattle ; and though I had occasionally milked
when there wee no one else in the way, it
was in fear and trembling.
Moodie had to go down to Peterborough ;
but before he went, he begged Malcolm to
bring me what water and wood I required,
and to stand by the cattle while I milked
the come, and he would himself he home
before night.
He started at six in the morning, and I
got the pail to go and milk. Malcolm was
lying upon his bed, reading.
Mr. Malcolm, will you be eo kind as t
go with me W the fields for a few minutes
while I milk I"
"Yes !" (then with a sulky frowns ) "but
I want to finish what I am reading.'
I will not detain you long."
" Oh, no I I suppose about an hour. Yon
are a shocking bad milker."
True ; I never went near a cow until I
came to this country; and I have never been
able to overcome my fear of them."
" More shame for you I A farmer's wife,
and afraid of a cow I Why, these little
children would laugh at you."
I did not reply, nor would I ask him
again. I walked slowly to the field, and my
indignation made me forget my fear. I had
just finished milking, and with a brimming
pail was preparing to climb the fence and
return to the house, when a very wild ox we
had came running with headlong speed from
the wood. All my fears were alive again in
a moment. I snatched up the pall, and,
instead of climbing the fence and getting to
the house. I ran with all the speed I could
command down the stoop bill towards the !
lake shore ; my feet caught in a root of the I
many etumps In the path, end I fell to the
ground, my pail rolling many yards a-head
of me. Every drop of my milk was spilt