Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe East Huron Gazette, 1892-11-03, Page 6een ehese see . fey -Charleciffne, • 9aAFF'ftIL, Can trary to Gehth Hurlefie exsisetationa Tom Harrington took the berth offered him. • A week afteeiliat Interview in the office, he thehOns4 tor the fishing -grounds -of the Norf.& $&a.. Eight, Weeks, long and . dreary to thn4 afieat" scion pass ashore., Tos denth, in attt# otfice, -time flew. The - moaning thefkleliaieNvas due anode found him nervouslying thequay. He had msde his plans. This trip would prove Tom's salvat ion. He had found a desk for him in the office, and under his own eye • Herringtair'etfould-nomnienee the new life. Though Genth's redid was busy, his eyes kept s'sraying • deevet the harbour; and at lastehe heard the pant, pa.nt, pent of a tug, an,I•Sesva her rest -b. -ended -funnel passing the lower ferry. Astern was- a dandy-rigsed trawler. Scares of smacks and luggers were already mo6fed at the quay -side, and what with scendalisecl sails, masts, shrouds, and • dangEng halliards, it was a minute or two before he could make her out. When the snake -like coil of the towrope wascastoff and the tug sheered out, Genth saw the new- , comertwae the Comet. He made a step for- ward, Ishen stopped as if he hadbeen shot. Hie Opts were 'glued to her rigging. She was flying her flag half-mast high! It was not the first time Genth had beheld that ominous sign, but now it turned .him faint. In his Mind ran one thought—suppese it was flying for Torn Harrington! He stood for a minute fascivated, then walked gloom- ily. lack to the -office. He sat there with hielithetburiedainlis hands when that:men- Ing of the door, the sound of sea -boots, and and the voio3 d Holmes, aroused him. "1 ken see, owner," he said, "you ha' been on the quay." "Tell me," said Genth with dry lips, "whom You have lost?" The skipper of the Comet passed a large hand through his oakunt-textured bair. "Well, owner," he said slowly, "P11 speak the truth. 'Twar this way: the wind were east "— "In God's name !"- cried Genth, • "who is it ?" "To sail straight to the pint, owner, 'tis the new deck Vamp." Genth looked at him helplessly. Harring- ton He had made all his little plans, and & greater and than his had swept them away. "When did this take place ?" he teeeeked. . • "Thettighe adore:first. We wor acomin' home,' said -Rohn.* directing his gaze to a nautical, almatiao, and telling litaetale to it as it hung on. a nail; "wi' the win t east. nor'-eist ; rhad jest fixed the port an Eitar- board lights, an' vats taking a spell at the tiller. All Of a suddent I sees a great greeLl met, and with a wild scream she sank to sea acomin , which I knew we'd ship, a.71' 4 the floor. sung out to the chaps to keep below. -thee An'hour later, a doctor came. He looked as the werds passed my lips, some oite Poi* artHarringtou, who had been put to bed, and shook his head. "I'm no use," I -leased. "Cold, exposure. a debilitated constitution. The man has been dying for weeks. He may last the night out ; I doubt it." The doctor was right. Harrington gradually grew weaker. His brain wander- ed to strange scenes, the River Plate, Costa Rica: then home, and Nell. When his mind .partially cleared, she was bending over him, and Genth sat holding his hand. Like a child he put up his face, and she kissed him. He looked, smiling, at Genth; conir7nit ha' pulled another 'stroke for the I then his head fell back on -the pillow. " • Indies. An' the deck chap wos gone. All am going," he said softly—" I am going." There was a faint flutter of breath, and bis eyes clo. ed. The Deck Hand had gone. _ [THE END.] ee: reVr-'-a- nCaXer.- ee, Piet handon.the ek- - tifeacheire; then with *Smile, he -looked. abOenth Hneley's few _wote eek kwful frozen look.' „Hetitgieerel '06W -tiring beck. " -very tired . said • the wanderer feebly. "May I sit down? have been to some strange. plaee,s, bet I'm home now; and I want to find NelL tl have been to the old house, but she was ;not there-, But you'll help me to find her, wee% you?' You'll tell Me Where she is?" His voite was eager, and again he looked at Genth. The door of the room Was only partly closed, and through it there came a faint cry; then a soothing sound; thea a cry loader than_the first. The rescued man pricked his ears. "As baby!" he said. "Stayou. are n Perhaps—perhaps," he added the' "you. don't want me here. I had better go. I had no right to come • but I thought you could tell me where Neil was." • He ga,z.eil again at the fire and his shaky fingers stray • ed over the buttons of his threadbare coat. With an effort he staggered up. It was only Genth's lips that. moved. "Yes, yes," he said, in a hollow One, "go! And in the name of God, go quick! To- morrow—I'll see you to -morrow. A gust of wind drove the snow against the window. Before the fleeting patterns of the flakes were off the glass, another gust made them afresh. Harrington shiver- ed. "It's very cold," he said; "but I'll walk quick, and' you'll tell me where to find Nell ?" 4 As he put the question there sounded a rippling laugh; then the joyous snatch of a song, as some one tripped down the stairs, The wander - 's face grew bright. He helcrup his hand, " Listen !" he cried breathlessly. "That is Nell's voice! My Nell ! That is the song she used to sing, long ago! why, she is here, Hurley—she is"—He turned wonderingly to Genth. The smack -owner's jaw had fall- en; his teeth were chattering; and tremb- ling in every limb, he barely held up by the mantel piece. A puzzled look stole over Harrington's face. It cleared; and he too began to trem- ble. "Your wife I" he whispered. "You have married her! You thought me dead! I am going—I am going." He put his hand out t� feel for the door. He was trying to find the handle, when it swung open and Nell stood on the threshold. He gave a low sob, and with bent head sought to pass her. She tried to see his face. "1 am going, Nell," he mumbled—" I am going." He was quite helpless now, and blinded by tears. At the sound of his voice, at the sight of the shaky figure grown suddenly old, some anemory stirred her, and she clutched him hy the arm. He lifted his head; their eyes ped out o' the hoodwity [companion]. The sea an him must ha touched the Comet's deck at the same time : an' afore I could clutch him, he wos swept over the starboard rail. I hulled. belt at him, an' put the ' 1 r A'most as sune as we gat about, our at was launched, an' the chaps were in her. They pulled like madmen; but you known, owner, how fast a drownin man drifts to wind'ard. They could never git nigh him; an' when I picked the crew o' the boat up they wor dote for. They we picked up was this'—he held up a soiled sou' -wester. " You must report it," said Genth heav- ily—" it's all you can do now." Holmes nodded, and slouched away. When he was gone, Geeth went to his desk and drew from it c sheet of note -Taper, ; on it was written the neinber of a "And I must break the news," he said. On a bleak January afternoon, two years later, a man came through the tollgate. To save a mile or so, he had, reached Herring. bourne by a cheerless, treeless cut called the New Road. He was thin and bearded. His clothes were shabby, and his steps un- certain. As he tendered the halfpenny toll his fingers burnt like fire. .The sun went down as he came through the gate, and the traveller shivered. en easterly wind was blowing. It lay in wait for him as he rounded a corner, and a roaring gust brought him up gasping for breath. But still he wearily plodded on. At last he stop- ped before a "row," went up it, and then stopped again, in front of a house with the shutters closed. On them was chalked—"To Let." In a dazed sort of - way he looked at the letters, then made his way to the quay. Here he halted at the office of Hurley's Fleet. With a trembling heed- he tried the door. It was locked. Then, indeed, he seemed to loose heart, and sat a 'hien-lent ori the doorstep. He was looking at the black bough of a tree that flapped -noisily against a lighted lamp, when a smacksiran came past. The weary object stopped him and asked him where Hurley. lived. He was told; and with a sigh went . on again, this time towards the Drive. The sky grew darker, and it began to snow, first_ in eight flakes that he feebly tried to awey, then:faster. Soon he heard the roar of the angry sea, and saw the flaming eye of theeFloatieg Light asit rock- atecr inside- the ScrOlay. = Here the wind blew tefiereeeeligatherettthe-white flakes together "and hurled them into his face till they blinded him. Staggering, clutching at iron rails, and turning his face to them when the stronggusta swept off the sea, he went on till he reached the gate of a house where the blindenterepartecl anti the roomillurnined by gee jets dud a merwleaping fire. By that fire a man sat reading. It was Genth Hurley. The stranger outside opened: the gate; the wind drove him up to the door, and he pull- ed the bell. It was answered by a servant, who gazed at him curiously. He asked it he could see the smack -owner. "Of course you can," she said sharply. "But shake some of that snow off !" He tried, but his fingers seemed numb. She impatiently beckoned him in and left hint on the mat while she informed her mas- ter a man wanted him. Before she could speak; the visitor had stolen up behind. As she (brew back, he and Genth came face to face.The attitede of the shabby figure wastilMke; knees shook; " Cornetiere"oried,Genth cheerily—" come in, niinan.' -Vou *anted to see me?" - Intakesitating, way the other stepped forward ; partials Of snow hid melted on hiabeeietand filing idgeLitening ArGpS. " Ana gnu know me, Harley ?" he ask - „lit a trembling tone. "I wonder if Nell itlaztileirre?' • I'm•Toni Ha xtington !'• Wtla strange, gurgling cry- Genth fell -b-abk end rehttelied at the mantel piece. He seemed turned tostone. The -visitor looked • wistfully at the bright fire, and caressed , Within hand& es if he were warming them. •6Net PE-gespeil Genth hoarsely, "not "•.:Iiinkt-Zriat Toni Harrington- ! He was drown- - -ect stiles? _• • • - i e - Not drowned, sad the other; and his oke.sound uotentle so unlike the Her.- ' figIdth tiexe Was plenty et - i61n Ws identity; -"Iritt 7eittleta onerltwfien he had hist- () kw* carried to a strange place, Remedy For Potato Rot. To the Editor. SIR, —There are few diseases of field crops which are the direct cause of more loss to the farmers of Canada than that which is known under the different names of "po- tato rot,” " blight " or "rust." My object in writing this letter is to draw the atten- tion of your readers to the fact that a prac- tical and simple remedy has been discovered and that the best time for applying it is during the latter half of this month. This disease of the potato is due to the attacks of a parasitic fungus, known by the name of Phytophthora infestans. The life history of this fungus is briefly as follows: The fungus passes the winter inside the potato tuber and is planted with it hi spring. As soon as the pelt° throws out its shoots, the parasite grows with it, running up through the tissues of the stems and from about the end of July produces beneath the leaves an abundance of spores, or seed -like bodies. These are exceedingly minute, but are produced in such numbers that they frequently give a frost -like ap- pearance to the under sides of the leaves. When these spores are produced on the leaves, the appearance known as "rust" shows itself in the shape of small dark Vessel brown dots, which are caused by the dry- tva4 enough to carry a large - ing up of the tissues from the parasite have quantity of supplies and merchandise, so able that Capt ing used up their eantents. From the rust Capt. war- , to beaway - horn horne for months at atirne. stage all future infection takes- piece. - Some of the spores are carried by the. wind and falling upon the leaves of otheeadjacent plants, produce more rust spots,while others falling to the ground are washed be- neath the surface and reaching the forming tubers produce the rot stage. Tile -wet rot, as seen in autumn in the tuber, is the form of this disease which is best known, but pot tato rot is really a dry rot which kills the tuber, and in autumn the wet rot t follows as a result of decay. In winter the disease occurs in the tubers as patches .of !hard whitish diseased tissue. • , • In this district the . tint stage iloss not generally- appear until about theteffeht of August and this is the first evident4 that blight is present in the field. As a rule the black spots appear only on a few leaves at first, but if the weather be favorable the disease spreadierapidly from spore g carried by the wind from these centres of infection, so that a large field may become diseiged in a few days, and as a result -the Crop of pasta., toes will be ruined. .• REMEDY. to krePare the mixture some time before re-• BfISTORIO MISER& quired, hat it mustle kept covereerto keep i••••• mit dust and r,abbish. Worth Thousands Yet Living In Absolute To apply this mixture to the foliage un- Want. —Curious Eecentrieities of doubtedly the best and cheapest way is to use a proper spraying pump and nozzle, but if these are not on hand, good results which will well repay the trouble, may be obtained by applying thmixture with watering cans supplied with fine roses. There are several different kinds of spraying pumps in the market. Perhaps the most convenient for this work is a force pump ettachcsd to a her - rel on wheels to be drawn through the field by a horse. Smaller maehines, known as Knapsack Sprayers, consise, of a reservoir containing a small force pump, which can be carried upon a man's back. Both of these kinds of pumps can be purchased for about $15 to $20. It will be necessary to spray the fields two or three times to protect the cropttliereughly. Thete ishio danger of in • the' fqliage With- the m i Aura, as it is only half the strength orthe origin- al formula which is most generally used. A great advantage of this mixture is that Paris green, the only practical remedy for the Colorado potato. beetle, can be applied at the same time. To do this, mix from a quatter to half a pound of Paris green with a little water so as to make a thick peat and then add it to the 45 gallons of Bor- deaux mixture, that is, it is used in exactly the same strength as with plain water, These mixtures must be kept constantly stirred while being used, as both the lime hi the Bordeaux mixture and the Paris green sink quickly to the bottom of any mixture if left undisturbed. JAMES FLETCHER, Ent, and Bot. to Dominion Expertl. Farms, Ottawa, July 19, 1892. A BOAT 'WITH A HISTORY. First a Trading:Vessel, then a Slave Dhow, and Finally an Explorer's Craft. A little 'vessel having a remarkable his- tory has plied for years on Lake Tangan- yika. Her story illustrates the progress in that region from savagery toward civiliza- tion. -The best boats on Tanganyika are obtain- edtfrom enortrious trees- in the vast forest which skis -tamest _of the shores o‘f the lake. Inthis toreit the boat long ;after intern as as the Calabash was originally a huge tree trunk, cut down by the axes of the natives with enormous labour, and then, with axe and adze and fire, moulded into shape. Boats like the Calabash are excellent sea vessels, though in their lines they suggest rather a clumsy hippopotamus than a swan. Scores of natives dragged the finished boat down the mountain slopes to the lake, where it was launched with much ceretnouy. The medicine man made an offering of beads to the gods of the lake, so that they should take the vessel under their protecting care. Then as a native trading, canoe the little vessel, still unnamed, began her career with a prew of stout black paddlers, who took her from port to port laden with grain, fruit, salt, oil, dried fish, ivory, and other com- modities that are exchanged among the tribes. On one of her voyages, after she had served as a trading canoe for two years, she entered the port of Ujiji, where she was bought by an Miwahili slave trader. He drew her on the shore, deepened her by buildingplanks around her sides strength- ened her with thwarts and a 'half deck, rigged her with a mast and sail, and then launched her again as a slave dhow. For three years she plied back and forth across the lake bringing cargoes of wretched men, women, , and children to the Ujiji slave market. One day a load a slaves had just been landed on the shore when Mr. Here, who had recently come to Ujiji as an agent of the Loudon Missionary Society, saw the little craft, and. decided that she was just about what he needed for exploratory voy- .ages around the lake. He succeeded in purchasing her, drew her up on the beach once more, repaired and altered her, rigged her in English fashion withtwo masts and sails, christened her the Calabash, and the little boat was once' More leimehed upon - Tanganyika as.the first missionary vessel on the lake. Consecrated to the cause of peace, she became known in time to every tribe around the lake as the harbinger �f gond will. Lake Tafiganyika, as it appears on our maps to -day, is the result of these surveys, which Mr. Hore carried out on the Cala- bash. His survey is the best that has yet been made of the lake. Ite paddled and sailed along t heshoree, 'every day seeing a grand panorama. of unknown lands and new tribee.s., Tiy easeful messurement. and. ob- , serea.tion, month. after meeth, the outlines of the lake and the names of the, bordering countries were marked on • the map cif Africa. It was about tWo years before Capt. Hore completed his survey. . • The Calaba.sh was 32 feet long, and its crew consisted of eight natives of Ujiji all of theinikilled•canoiata and fishermen. 'The Careful experiments have shown that by spraying the potato haulms at the time the rust first appears with a mixture of sulphate copper and lime known as the "Bordeaux Mixture," the rust or blight on the reeves can be stopped, and as a consequence &large proportion of the rot in the tuber's can be prevented. • BORDEAUX'MEITURE: Copper sulphate, &pounds ; Lime, fresh, 4 pounds ; - Water, 45 galleons. - - To make Bordeaux mixture.—Take six pounds of copper sulphate (blue vitriol) pow- dered, and dissolve it in one gallon of hot water in a wooden tub (iron must not be used, aathe vitriol would attack it). Slake four wands of lime in sufficient water to make a thin. whitewash.- Strain this through a frne sieve or a sack to remove al Twain. When both liquids are cool, pour the lime wash slowly into the copper sul- phate solution, earring it all the time. Now add enough water to make 45 gallons and the mixture is ready for use. It Is hest EATEN BY CANNIBALS. The Second Explorer in Equatorial Africa to Fall a Victim to Men Eaters. A. few months ago the French explorer, De Ponmayrac, ascended the Mobaugi trib. ntary of the Congo to its big northern bend, and then paddled up the newly dis- covered affluent, the Kotto River. He made this jOiffney for the purposeof confer- ring with ChietPakura of the Sakhara tribe. He was well received by this chief, whose relations with all white men have been ex- cellent in the little time they had known him. Upoa his return journey homeward, heweter, Mr. De Poums.yrac came into col, lision with the Bubus. This tribe has been at war with the Saltharas, who have been bent upou subjugating the Babes,- though they have not yet succeeded. It happened, unfortunately, a number of Sakharas were members of the explorer's party, and it is supposed that this fact was the occasion for the fierce attack which the Bubus made upon the travellers.; . • The white expedition was suddenly as- sailed by a large force of natives armed with lances and knives. All the survivors of the fieht declare that the Bubus fired no guns. Soon after the fight (began- Mr.D0 Poumayrae was wounded- in the:right side by a lance thrust. The Bubus carried him alive into their village, where they murdered him. Only a few members of his party e.scaped, and made their way to the white post on the Mobangi. The explorer and all his comrades who were taken were eaten, and the cannibal orgieketrethe &butt extended over a period of seveell days. This is the second instance of a teliite traveller being killed and eaten byearinfinls in -Akio& The first. instanee oiteartedabout iev5, years ago, not' eery far frio Atka placel Where the receeittrakedy *94. ThdieMmm ander of a Frenele 'otitwith hiteldful of men were hutch= ered and eaten. A lecture on fruit should always, begin with a pear oration. Three Miserable Creatures. Few people are able to realise to them- selves the all -absorbing passion for hoarding which engrosses, to the exclusion of all others, the heart of the Miser. Curiously enough, this craving for secreting wealth is a product of civilisation, which has grown up with society, and become more develop- ed as gold and silver became emblems of wealth. The occupation and ambition of a miser's life is not to accumulate for -himself or his children or relations,but for the same reason that a magpie steals a silver spoon, for the pleasure of hiding it. Daniel Dancer was one of the class of misers who hoarded money for the pleasure of secreting it. In this he but followed an heteditary tendency,as his father and grand- father had all done the same. It has been said that miserly instincts as a general rule are not inherited,but this case was undoubt- edly an exception ; for not only himself but his brothers and sisters were all of a miserly disposition. He was born in the beeinning of the eighteenth century at Weald, a vil- lage near Harrow, and on the death of his father, Daniel, the elrfest son, inherited a fair estate. He suffered great uneasiness at this time on account of a feeling of certain- ty which possessed him that his father had coNcEALED LARGE SUMS of money about the premises. His trouble was not occasioned so much by the idea that the money might not be discovered,but from the fear that his brothers might find it and not give it to him. Ultimately, about two hundred pounds in gold and silver coins were discovered enclosed in two pewter dishes buried beneath a gate -post, and nothing more was ever found. Dancer spent the whole of his life in the house on Harrow Weald Common, and a dreary, wretched blank that life was. The house stood in about eighty acres of rich meadow -land, with some fine oak -trees upon it; and there was also a smail farm adjoining. The whole, if properly culti- vated, might at that time have brought a nice little income. But cultivation is ex- pensive, so he preferred to let everything run to grass. The house was never repair- easadongrtahdeuaplrlyouifeilslaisetwOosraed their gates all eloYff. hinges, and the hedges were allowed to grow until they became useless. He then practised a rigid economy upon himself and son. He seldom washed his hands and face, and when he did, dispensed with the lux- ury of either soap or towel. His tattered clothes, of which the original colors were unrecognisable, were held together by means of a hayband wound round his body, his legs being encased in a similar covering. A more forlorn or wretched looking object it would. be impossible to imagine; and yet at this time he wes in ,possession of property to the annual value of three thousand 'pounds. As he at this time lived alone, being too penurious to allow himself help of any kind, his dwelling offered a temptation to robbery that was not likely to be resisted. His well- known avarice was an excuse and seemed also a palliation for the crime. On several occasions thieves broke into the house, and once or twice he was nearly hanged in the endeavor to extort from him a confession where he had hidden his money. At length he securely nailed up ail the doors and win- dows of of his house, save one on the upper floor, which he entered by mears of a ladder dragging it in after him like Robinson Cru. + As no man is wholly bad, so this miserable j soe. miser had one good quality. Lady Temp- est, his nearest neighbour, pitied the man, and had been kind to him, visiting him when he was ill, and endeavouring to per- suade him to allow himself a few of the nec- essaries of life. Not succeeding in getting him to abandon the sack in which ,he had slept for years, she actually presented him with a bed. In gratitude for her kindness, he made a will in her favour, and one day, when HE THOUGHT HE WAS DYING, he sent for her, and gave her the paper. Hav- ing thus yielded up all that was dear to him oti earth, he soon sank, and died on Sep- tember 4, /794, aged seventy-eight, and was buried in the church yard of his parish of Harrow. Apart from his besetting weak- ness—craze, call it what you will—he often exhilsited strong common sense, and there is no doubt, but for that weakness he would have been a reputable citizen and a credit to his family. John Elwes is a neme which has become proverbial in the annals of avarice. Born to great riches, he nevertheless developed a passion for accumelating wealth by denying himself common necessaries to such a degree as to make his naine famous. The career of John Elwes presents in many respects a marked contrast to that of Dancer, and fur- nishes an example_ of the terrible incon- sistency of man. His father's name was Meg- gott, a brewer of Southwark, who died when the boy was about f our years old ;and it was to the principles instilled by his mother, and latter. the advice and example of his uncle, that 'John- Elwes probably owed the most marked traits in his character. Although her husband left her one hundred thousand pounds, it is said she starved herself to death. Her son was sent to Westmin- ster School, where he rena,ined some years, and became a good classical scholar. He inherited about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds from his uncle, Sir Harry Elwes, who was himself as penurious as his nephew afterwards became ; and as his own fortune was of a similar amount, he was at this time a very rich man. For fifteen years before his uncleht death John Elwes was known in all the fashionable circles of the metropolis, his large fortune introducing him to the best society. • His passion for play—a passion at that time rampant in society—was only exceeded by his avarice, and it was not until late in life that he en- tirely relinquished it. According to his own assertion, few played deeper or with more varying success. He once sat playing for two days and a night with the Duke of Northumberland, to whom he lost several thousands. STRANGE INCONSISTENCY ! that while struggling to save tixpence and shillings, he could thus fritter away thousands of pounds. At this time he was his uncle!s•acknowledged heir, and used to visit him irequently at his seat in Suffolk. It is said that, fearful that -his uncle would think him wantonly extravagant if he ap- peared before him in his ordinary dress, he hired a room in a cottage near, where he used to call and change his clothes for a very mean -looking quiet suit. On -the death of his uncle, Elwesassumed his name and removed to Suffolk, where he began to keep foxhounds. He had always been a bold and fearless and at this time his hunters were considered „the best in the country. Thiswasthe -Only time he was ever known to spend mnney on pleas- ute. theneeveutliteg:Weas managed 'atter, the enoSt frugalefaehitn& His hunts- maretinijked- the cows prepared breakfast for himeelf and friends, then attended to the stables, donned his green coat, and led the heauds ; and after a day's _hunting, re - freshed himself by rubbing down the horses, •milking the cows again, and so forth. And yet his master often called him an idle dog, and said he wanted to be paid for doing nothing. With the two large fortunes which he possessed, and the wretched way in which he lived, his whole expenses at this time not being more than three hundred pounds a year, RICHES POURED IN upon him in torrents. But as he never kept any accounts or trusted any one to keep them for hirn, relying on his memory for everything, his -affairs were in a frightful tangle, of which no one could find the thread but himself, and he lost it as he advenced in years. He was a prey to every person who had a want or a scheme that promised high interest, and in this way is said to have lost one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. He sat for Berkshire, in which he had a large estate, in three parliaments ; bat his parliamentary honours made no difference in his dress or his habits. He consented to stand for the constituency only upon condi- tion that he should be returned free of expense. He dined once at the ordinary at Abingdon during his canvass, and so obtain- ed his seat in parliareert for the moderate sum of one shilling and sixpence, a record which has probably not yet been broken, Nevertheless, he was wont to declare that the seat cost him quite as much as three contested elections, in consequence of the borrowing propensities of the other members —loans that were never repaid. Probably that was one reason why he retired from parliament, as his constituents had a high opinion of his integrity, and would certainly -have returned him at a small expense. As Elwes grew in years, his parsimony increased. He took to building largely in Loudon around Marylebone, and this en- tailed frequent visits to the metropolis. • On these occasions it was his custom to occupy any house of his own that might happen to be empty. In this manner he moved about from street to street, so that his own rela- tions never knew where to find him. A couple of beds, the same number of chairs, a table, and an old woman, comprised all the furniture, and he moved them about at a minute's warning. He used to say that of all his movables the old woman gave him the most trouble. She was always taking cold from the chillness ot the large rooms, coupled with insufficient firing. His son George havin g married, was natu r- ally anxious that his father should make his home with him. One obstacle advanced by the old man was the expense of the journey; this was overcome by the attorney employ- ed by his son offering to taae him to Berk- shire free of cost. Next, he stated that his last coat was so shabby, and he could not afford to buy another. This objection was likewise overcome through the same agency, his son desiring Mr. Partis, the attorney, to buy one and make him a present of it. He finally went to reside with his son on hi estate in Berkshire ; but his memory was beginnine to fail him, and he was con- tinually losing the small sum of money which he declared was all he had in the world. It was about five pounds; and this he used to hide, and being unable to find it, dealared that he had been robbed. At last, having become very feeble, and his memory quite gone, he died on the 26th of November, 1768, leaving property to the ameunt of eight hundred thousand_ pounds. ter caused inquiries to he de about him, and discovered who lieewas. Upon this he retused to see him again, and sent him his bill, which, however, was never paid. Thus did this man, by the most pa -y devices, delight in tricking every one with whom he was brought in contact. At length he be- came extremely weak, and spent the remain- ing portion of his life in arranging his af- fairs with his solicitor, altering and re -alter- ing his will many times. He died on the 26th of August 1811, in the eletsty-sixth year of his age, unpitied and 15.ntamented, leaving nearly one hundred and thirty thousand pounds behind him. Of all the miserable and sordid men of whose life we have any record, his, surely, is the worst. Not one good action or one redeeming virtue can we place to his credit. .&E. day the r Upou the s Crushing th That N a Rad strown Reigned in All day the .9vent wit O'er hill and O'er moult Until it see Would Del, But as the d Beyond th There carne SG silently And then a The rified MASSES FALLING FROM THE SKY. Their Volcanic Nature—What ere They Composed of—Ls Gold Ever in Them? An addition to our present knowledge of meteorites has been presented by Mr. J. R. Eastman, who furnishes a list of iron aerolites, together with a table of their weights and remarks as to the relative oc- currences of iron and stony meteorites. Ac- cording to this gentleman the ra tio of weight of the former to the latter is as 1 to 12.23, and the aggregate weight of aerolitic iron which has been observed and discovered up to date on the American continent is about 153 tens. "11 the.above ratio be true in alt cases," he says, "there should have been a fall of about 1,880 tons of litbic meteorites, or in all over 2,000 tous of aerolitic matter precipitated upon the eart h. Mr. Eastman offers the following theory to account for the apparent oxcess of iron over stony meteorites: " \ Vhen a stony meteorite falls to the earth it breaks into many frag,rnents, and the ruptured surfaces indicate the nature of the catastrophe No case is on record where an iron aerolite showed any indicatior of haa ing been twist- ed, broken, or torn from another mass of the same material. "The true type of meteorite which reach- es the earth from outer Brace is probably similar to that which fell in Iowa county, Ia., on Feb. 12, 1875. This celestial visitor is composed almost wholly of lithic matter, but ecattered through the mass -are small grains of nickelifercus iron. This iron may exist in the stony matrix in all -Toms and sizes, from the microscopic nodule to the mass weighing several tons. When the lithic mass comes in Contatt with the earth's atmosphere the impact breaks up the matrix sets free the iron bodies, and they reach the earth in the same condition, so far as mass and figure are concerned, as they exist in the original formation. In such cases it is probable that the stony portion of the original body is rent into such small fragments by the explosion that these would not reach the earth in any appreciable size. The larger the masses of iron the more com- plete would be the destruction of the origin- al body, and the larger lithic meteorites would be those containing the smeller granu- les of iron." We may here revert to the au iferous aero - lite which is reported to have fallen a few days ago at Idaho, so far as we are aware precious metals have never yet been found in substances of meteoric origin. Should, therefore, the telegraphic news which has His two natural sons inherited half a mil- heen received of an apparently remarkable lion ; and the remainder, consisting of en- tailed estates, descended to the heir-at- law. This man was one of the strangest con- tradictions. He was of the highest honour and integrity, and his word alone was always considered a sufficient security. Though consumed and his better nature distorted by THE PASSION OF AVARICE, such Was his delicacy of feeling that he pro- fessed never to be able to ask a gentleman for money, and this rule he never violated. In consequence, several large sums which in his gambling days he won from persons of rank were never pail His manners were always ,gentlemanly and mild, even rudeness could not ruffle them; and on several oc- casions he was known to put himself to considerable trouble in order th do a service to persons from whom he could have had no hope of repayment. From all of which we may conclude that there was in him a natural kindness of heart, though choked by rana growth of noxious weeds. Of a totally differene character was Thomas Cooke, who was a contemporary of El wes,and who attained some little celebrity by his riches and shameless rneennesses. He was born at Clower, near Windsor, in 1726. His father, an itinerant fiddler, died when be was an infant, and he was brought up by O grandmother at Swannington, near Nor- wich. As a boy he was employed at a factory in Norwich, afterwards becoming a porter to a drysalter. Throagh the interest of his master, he obtained an ap- pointment in the Excise, and arrived in London with eight shillings in his pocket. His early habits of parsimony continued. He ingratiated himself with a brewer, and took some trouble to learn the business ; and when this man died, he told the widow her only chance of carry ing on the trade was to marry himself, as he was better acquainted with it than any one else. To this she ulti- mately consented. He was now a rich man; but thericherhe became the more his avarice increased. He allowed scarcely any food in the house, nearly starved besides ill- treating his wife and she, poor soul, who had been used to a very different life with her former husband, soon died of a broken heart: One of his faverite methods of obtaining his daily food was ,by timely visits to persons he knew, throwing out hints of having just made his will, in which he had not forgotten them. Or he would be very particular in hiving the full names of the children written down, carefully be- stowing the paper in his pocket -book. An- other method was to fall down in the street in a simulated fit before a good house, into which he would be taken and kindly treat- ed. He never faih:d to call the next day, profuse in his thanks for their kindness, representing that they had saved his life, for which s me day they would receive a substantial reward. Thus, by empty prom- ises made to all sorts of people, he was continually raising hopes for no other pur- pose than to trade on them to his own ad. vantage. As the rich Mr. Cooke's friend- ship was worth cultivating, he was contin- ually receiving presents of geese, turkeys, hares, and wines, from people to whom he had made these false promises. Notwith- standing his inordinate love of money, he was fond of amusement; he liked a good horse, and went once a year to Epsom races. These excursions, however, seldom cost him anything, for he always managed to fasten nimself upon other people. At length, through INFIRMITIES OF AGE, he found himself compelled to have medical advice. His plan then was to dress himself in rags, and apply to some physician as a pauper or unfortunate tradesman, relying upon the doctor's kindness to obtain his ad- vice. He did this many timee, and once watt se troublesome to a doctor, that the lat. 'discovery be confirmed, scientists will hod themselves confronted with another knotty problem—how to account for the presence of pure gold in the aerolite ? Up to the present the principle known constitueut parts of meteoric iron are, in addition to "the most common and useful of metals and nickel, numerous compounds, such as ferrous sulphide (troilite), sulphide of chrom- ium (daubreelite,) calcium sulphide (old- hatnite), and phosphide of iron end nickel (schreibersite), which are not known as ter- restrial minera's besides magnetic pyrites, chromic iron, magnetite, pyroxene, olivine, and anorthite, which are ordinary compon- ents of volcanic rocks. When 'Were Passports First Issued. A passport is a license to travel, and also a safe-conduct, or warrant of protection. By means of it Monarchs or Governments restrain the entrance of foreigners into their dominions, or the exit of their subjects from their territories, and also endeavour to se- cure the safety and freedom of their subjects while travelling abroad. Passports are of very ancient date, and the first on record was mentioned by Balzac as having been given by the Roman E mperor Julius Csar to a philosopher. It was in the terms fol- lowing, namely, "11 there be any one, on land or sea, hardy enough to molest Pota- mou, let him consider whether he be strong enough to wage war with Gsar." In the chronicles written and preserved by monks are mentioned th a free passes issued to his subjects when going on pilgrimage to the shrines of St. Peter and Si. Paul at Rome by Canute, or Cnut, King of Denmark and England, between A. D. 995 and 1035, to obtain for them security, and also hespital- ity in passing through the various countries in the course of their travels. The system was also in vogue in China during the 10th century, and still remains so as far as Rus. sia is concerned. In all European countries, save the United Kingdom, passports still continue to exist, and therefore to cause annoyance to a greater or lesser extent both to natives and foreigner s, but especially to the latter. Even in those countries on the Continent where the passport system is not so rigidly enforced, the carrying of a pass- port is found to be desirable if delay and trouble to travellers are to be avoided. The passport mot used by British subjects is that of the British Secretary of Foreign Affairs (Lord Rosebery), which is now granted to any British subject on payment of a fee of two shillings, and it holds good for life. The Hamm Boly, Few of our readers, perhaps, are aware that the human body falls asleep by instal- ments. According to M. Cabanis, a French physiologist, the muscles of the legs and arms lose their power before those which support the head, and these last sooner than the muscles which sustain the back; and he illustrates this by the cases of persons who sleep on horseback, or while they are stand- ing or walking. He conceives that the sense of sight sleeps first ; then the sense of taste; next the sense of smell; next that of hear. ing; and lastly that of touch. He maintains also that the viscera fall asleep one after another, and sleep with different degrees of soundness. A Bad Conscience. Landlord—What sort of wine do you want? Guest—I don't care which sort. It is all the same. Landlord—It is, eh ? How diferee Ahd that out The storm -a As sunlig And clouds Gleaped 1 And sill the By the fai And thus, I Will s wee When ali lif Are num And o'er in. It's fair, h Teach the while they will always arkeirly1 e grshtl to on to which eac work so long disgusted wi accomplish s much the bet last awtoirmketo. systematical the most fru ptho,antiir dren feel t deTfinihetey wenist as much as o tiohehnalbtihtas to, f industrious the man, bit is that my lainededin, was w my tasks. days, a <oyusg, ought when nh enough drea work, she w half of utrbl quired to h rough and d pretty work, so much. T measured an fingers ache the ta.s_k. I had to pic it was well out a word o ragbag. I all the time, to any one. reprimanded judges of w This is a gr much keene rule think t mother was now I know A small r wool goods moistening t a little muci same goals threads run scarcely be goods may piece to ma the wrong iron. A kid gio drawing tile fastening wi surgeon's p is stronger. place by w though of te that case t probably c.a. When ma dren, after t stitch over i preventing t one waist t this precaut thicknesses ton before i thread used usually hold if the eyes a thread. We used than any pa causz in our way. But s' it is a pleasu done, and t Wash quickl can be used, soft cloth then rubbed on a more be eeeessary. The dining and easily c gasoline and it. It is far not require k When swe thoroughly w water drops arising and sity of dust dusty, or th two or three pleted. One of the ever saw was been begoa a riage and is tions, althou book with fie sum, was tiro all the choice muck away fr for all new di recipes from out and paste began housek of tried recipe lied on. As t dexed, it is e and becomes ceeding yGar. CORN FR from the cobs. corn add two spooduls of one-half even flour may let be etlff enoug