Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 26 July 1884 — Page 10

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THE GILDEI) ROLL. Written for the Journal by James Whitcomb Biley. Nosing around in an old box —packed away and lost to memory for years—an hour ago, I found a musty package of gilt paper, or rather, a roll it was, with the tarnished gold of the old sheet for the outer wrapper. I picked it up mechanically to toss it into some obscure corner, when, carelessly lifting it by one end, an child's tin whistle fell tinkling on the cellar floor. It lies before me on my writing table now —and so, too, does the roll entire, though now a roll no longer, for my eager Angers have rent the gilded coyerering, and aIV its precious contents are spread out beneath my hungry eyes. Here is a scroll of ink-written music. I don’t read music, but I know the dash and swing of the pen that rained it on the page. Here is a letter, with the selfsame impulse and abandon in every syllable; and its melody—however sweet the other —is far more sweet to me. And here are other letters like it —three —five—and seven, at least Bob wrote them from the front and Billy kept them for me when I went to join him. Dear boy! Dear boy! Here are some cards of bristol-board. Ah! when Bob came to these there were no blotches then. What faces—what expressions! The droll, ridiculous, good-for-nothing genius, with his “sad mouth," as he called it “upside down," laughing always—at everything, at big rallies, and mass meetings and conventions, county fairs and floral halls, booths, watermelon-wagons, dancing tents, the swing, daguerreian car, the “lung barometer, "and the air-gun man. Oh! what a gifted, good-for-nothing boy Bob was in those old days. And here’s a picture of a girlish face —a very faded photograph—even fresh from “the gallery,” four and twenty years ago it was a faded thing. But the face—how bright and clear that was; for “Doc,” Bob’s awful name for her, was a pretty girl, and brilliant, clever, lovable every way. No wonder Bob fancied her! And you could see tome hint of her jaunty loveliness in every fairy face he drew, and you could find her happy ways and dainty tastes unconciously assumed in all he did —the bdoks he read—the poems he admired, and those he wrote; and, ringing clear and pure and jubilant, the vibrant beauty of her voice could clearly be defined and traced through all his music. Now, there’s the happy pair of them —Bob and “Doc.". Make of them just whatever your good fancy may dictate, but keep in mind the stern, relentless ways of destiny. You are not at the beginning of a novel, only at the threshold of one of a hundred experiences that lie buried in the past, and this particular one most happily resurected by these odds and ends found in the gilded roll.

You see, the contents of this package, mainly, were hastily gathered together after a week’s visit out to the old Mills farm. The gilt paper, and the whistle, and the pictures, they were Billy’s; the music pages, Bob’s, or “Doc's,” the letters and some other MSS were mine.. The Mills girls were great friends of “Doc’s,' and often came to visit her in town; and so “Doc” often visited the Mills's. This is the way that Bob first got out there, and won them all, and “shaped the thing” for me, as he would put it; and lastly, we had lugged in Billy,—such a handy boy, you know, to hold the horses on picnio excursions, and to watch the carriage and the luncheon, and all that. “Yes, and,” Bob would say, “such a serviceable boy in getting all the fishing tackle in proper order, aud digging bait, and promenading in our wake up and down the creek all day, with the minnow-bucket hanging on his arm. don’t you know!” But jolly as the days were, I think jollier were the long evenings at the farm. After the supper in the grove, whgre, wheu the weather permitted, always stood the table, ankle-deep in the cool, green plush of the sward; and alter the lounge upon the grass, and the cigars, and the new fish stories, and the general invoice of the old ones, it was delectable to get back to the girls again, and in the old “best room” hear once more the lilt of the old songs and the stncattoed laughter of the piano ming ling with the alto and falsetto voices of the Mills girls, and the gallant soprano of the dear girl “Doc.” This is the scene I want you to look in upon, as, in fancy, I do now —and here are the materials for it all, husked from the gilded roll: Bob, the master, leans at the piano now, and “Doc” is at ttte keys, her glad face often thrown up sidewise toward his own. His face is boyish —for there is yet but the ghost of a mustache upon his lip. His eyes are dark and clear. o f over-size when looking at you; but now their lids are drooped over his violin whose melody has, for the time, almost smoothed away the upward kinkings of the corners of his month. And wonderfully quiet now is every one, and the chords of the piano, too. are low and faltering; and so, at last, the tune itself swoons into the universal hush, and—Bob is rasping in its stead the ridiculous but marvelously perfect imitation of the “priming” of a pump, while Billy’s hands forget the “chiggers” on the bare backs of his feet, as, with clapping palms, he dances round the room in ungovernable spasms of delight. And then we all langh; and Billy, taking advantage of the general tumult, pulls Bob’s head down and whispers, “Git ’em to stay up ’way late to-night!” And Bob, perhaps, remembering that we go back home tomorrow, winks at the little fellow and whispers, “You let me manage ’em! Stay up till broad daylight if we take a notion —eh?" And Billy dances oft again in newer glee, while the inspired musician is plunking a banjo imitation on his enchanted instrument, which is unceremoniously drowned out by a circus-tune from “Doc” that is absolutely inspiring to everyone but the barefoot brother, who drops back listlessly to his old position on the floor and sullenly renews operations on his “cbigger” claims. “Thought you was goin' to have pop-corn tonight all so fast!” he says, doggedly, in the midst of a momentary lull that has fallen on a game of whist. And then the oldest Mills girl, who thinks cards stupid anyhow, says, “That's so Billy, and we’ro going to have it, too; and right away, for this game’s just ending, and I shan't submit to being bored with another. I say ‘pop-corn,’ with Billy! And after that,"she continues, rising and addressing the party in general, “wo must have another literary and artistic tournament, and that's been in contemplation and in preparation long enough; so you gentlemen can be pulling your wits together for the exercises, while us girls see to the refreshments." “Have you done anything toward it?" queries Bob, when the girls are gone, with the alert Billy in their wake. “Just an outline," I reply. “How with you?” “Clean forgot it—that is, the preparation; but I’ve got a little old second-handed idea, if you'll all help me out with it, that’ll amuse us some, and tickle Billy, I’m certain.” So that’s agreed upon; and while Bob produces his portfolio, drawing paper, pencils and so on, I turn to my note-book in a dazed way and begin counting my fingers in a depth of profound abstraction from which I am barely aroused by the reappearance oif the girls and Billy. “Goody, goody, goody! Bob’s goin’ to make pictures!” cries Billy, in additional transport to that the pop-corn has produced. “Now, you girls,” says Bob, gently detaching the affectionate Billy from one leg and moving a chair to the table, with a backward glance of intelligence toward the boy, “you girls are to help us all you can, and we can all work, bat, as I’ll have ail the illustrations to do, I want you to do ’ as many of the verses as you can—that’ll be easy, you know, —because the work entire is just to consist of a series of fool-epigrams, such as, tor instance, — Here lies a young man Who in childhood began Vo swear, and to amoke, and to drink, — In his twentieth year He quit swearing and beer, And yet ia still smoking, I think. And the rest of his instructions are delivered to lower tones, that the boy may not hear; and Uwn, all matters seemingly arranged, he tunas

to the boy with, —“And now, Billy, no lookin over shoulders, you know, or swingiag on my chair-back while I’m at work. When the pictures are all finished, then you can take a squint at ’em, and not before. Is that all hunky, now?’’ “Oh! who's a-goin’ to look over your shoulder — only ‘Doc.’ ” And as the radiant “Doc” hastily quits that very post, and dives for the offending brother, he scrambles under the piano and laughs derisively. And then a silence falls upon the group —a gracious quiet, only intruded upon by the very juicy and exuberant munching of an apple from a remote fastness of the room, and the occasional thumping of a bare heel against the floor. At last I close my note book with a half slam. “That means,” says Bob, laying down his pencil, and addressing the girls,—“That means he’s concluded his poem, and that he’s not pleased with it in any manner, and that he intends declining to read it, for that self-acknowledged reason, and that he expects us to believe every affected word of his entire speech " “Oh, don't!” I exclaim. “Then give us the wretched production, in all its hideous deformity!” And the girls all laugh so sympatically, and Bob joins them so gently, and yet with a tone, I know, that can be changed so quickly to my further discomfiture, that I arise at once and read, without apology or excuse, this old scrap that I pick here to-day from The Gilded Roll: A BACKWARD LOOK. As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday, And lazily leaning back in my chair, Enjoying myself in a general way— Allowing my thoughts a holiday From weariness, toil and care,— My fancies—l guess, for ventilation— Left ajar the gates of my mind, And Memory, seeing the situation, Slipped out in street of “Auld Lang Syne.” Wandering ever with tireless feet Through scenes of silence, and jubilee Os long-hushed voices; and faces sweet Were thronging the shadowy sides of the street As far as the eye could see; Dreaming again, in anticipation, The same old’dreams of our boyhood's days That never come true, from the vague sensation Os walking asleep in the world's strange ways. And away to the house where I was born! And there was the selfsame clock that ticked From the olose of dusk to the burst of morn, When life warm hands plucked the golden com, And helped when the apples were picked. And the “china dog” on the mantel-shelf, With the gilded collar and yellow eyes, Looked just as at first, when I hugged myself Sound asleep with the dear surprise. And down to the swing in the locust tree, Where the grass was worn from the trampled ground; And where 'rick' 1 Skinner, “Old" Carr, and three Or four such other boys used to be Doin’ “sky-scrapers,” or “whirlin' round;" And again Bob climbed for the bluebird's nest, And again “had shows” in the buggy-shed Os GuvmoiCs barn, where still, unguessed, Old ghosts romp of the best days dead! And again I gazed from the old school-room With a wistful look, of a long June day, When on my cheek was the hectic bloom Caught of Mischief, as I presume— He had such a “partial” way. It seemed, toward me, —And again I thought Os a probable likelihood to be Kent in after school, —for a girl was caught Catching a note from me. And down through the woods to tbe swimmhig-hole— Where the big, white, hollow, old sycamore grows,— And we never cared when the water was oold, And always “ducked" the boy that told On the fellow that tied the clothes.— When life went so like a dreamy rhyme, That it seems to me now that then The world was having a jollier time Than it ever will have again.

The crude production is received, I am glad to note, with some expressions of favor from the girls; but Bob, of course, must heartlessly dissipate my weak delight by saying, “Well, it’s certainly bad enough; though,” he goes on with an air of deepest critical sagaoity and fairness, “considered, as it should be justly, as the production of a jour poet, why, it might be worse—that is, a little worse.” But, by this time, the girls, in a body, are suppressing him, to which he laughingly submits aud calls for quarter, declaring that he would have been inclined to have ventured no comment whatever, but for the very personal allusion of the poem to his boyish derelictions and youthful eccentricities. “And now," he says, when order is restored, “our other production needs attention, and, with our new reinforcement, we can, with diligence, soon have it ready for both printer and engraver, and then we’ll wake up the boy (who, I notice, has been fortunately slumbering for the last quarter of an hour), and present to him, as designed and intended, this matchless creation of our united intellects." At the conclusion of this speech we al! go good-humoredly to work, and at the close of half an hour the tedious, but most ridiculous, task is announced completed. As I arrange and place in proper form here on the table the separate cards —twenty-seven in number— l sigh to think that I am unable to transcribe for you the best part of the nonsensical work—the Illustrations. All I can give Is the written copy of — Billy’s ALPHABETICAL ANIMAL SHOW. A. was an elegant Ape Who tied up his bangs with red tape, And wore a long veil, Half revealing his tail Which was trimmed with jet bugles and crape. was a boastful old Bear Who used to say,—“Hoomh! I declare I can eat—if you’ll get me The children, and let me— Ten babies, teeth, toenails and hair!’’ C was a Codfish who sis 'bed When snatched from the home of his pride, % But could he, embrined, : Guess this fragrance behind, How glad he would be that he died! D was a dandified dog Who said.—“ Though it's raining like tog I wear no umbrellah, Me boy, for a fellah Might just as well travel inoog!" E was an elderly Eel Who would say,—“Well, I really feel— As my grandchildren wriggle And shout ‘I should giggle'— A trifle run down at the heel!" F was a Fowl who conceded Some hens might hatch more eggs than she did, — But she'd children as plenty As eighteen or twenty, And that was quite all that she needed. Gr was a gluttonous Goat Who, dining one day, table-d'hoto, Ordered soup-bone, au fait, And fish, papier mache, And a filet of spring overcoat. H was a high-cultured Hound Who could dear forty feet at a bound; And a coon once averred That his howl could be heard For five miles and three-quarters around. * X was an Ibex ambitions, To dive over chasms auspicious; He would leap down a peak And not ’light for a week, And swear that the jump was delicious. ♦T was a Jackass who said He had such a bad cold in his head, If it wasn't for leering The rest of us grieving, He'd really rather be dead. IC was a profligate Kite Who would haunt the saloons every utght) And often he ust To reel back to his roost Too full to set up on it right. Xj was a wary old Lynx Who would say,—"Do you know wot I thinks?— I thinks es you happen To ketch me a-nappin l i I'm ready to set up the drinks!" M was a merry old Mole, Who would snooze all the day in his hole, Then—all night, a-rootm' Around and galootln'— He'd sing “Johnny, Fill up the Bowl!” Nwas a eAustlcal Nautilus Who sneered, “I suppose, when they're oaught all'us, Like oysters they’ll serve us, And ©an os—-preserve os— And barrel, mad pickle, and bettie os,”

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, JULY 26, 1884.

O was an autocrat Owl— Such a wise—such a wonderful fowl! Why, for all the night through He would hoot and noo-hoo, And hoot and hoo-hooter and howl! P was a Pelican pet Who gobbled up all he could get; He could eat on until He was full to the bill, And there he had lodgings to let! Q was a querulous Quail^ Who said, “It will little avail The efforts of those Os my foes who propose To attempt to throw salt on my tldlt" R was a ring-tailed Raccoon, With eyeß of the tinge of the moon. And his nose a blue-blaok. And the fur on his book / A sad sort of sallow maroon, S is a Seulpin—you’ll wish Very much to have one on your dish, Since all his bones grow On the outside, and so He’s a very desirable fish. T X was a Turtle of wealth, Who went round with particular stealth, — “W’y,” said he, “I’m afraid Os being waylaid When I even walk out for my health!" XJ was a Unicorn curious, With one horn, of a growth so luxurious, He could level and stab it— If you didn't grab it— Clean through you, he was so blamed furiousl Y was a vagabond Vulture Who said, “I don't want to insult yer, But when vou intrude Where in lone solitude I'm a-preyin’, you're no man o' oulturel” w was a wild Woodohuck, And you can just bet that he could “chuok"— He'd eat raw potatoes, * Green corn and tomatoes, And tree roots, and call it all “good chuok!" was a kind of X-cuse Os a some-sort-o’-thing that got loose Before we could name it, And cage it, and tame it, And bring it in general use. Is the Yellowblrd, —bright Asa petrified lump of star-light, Or a handful of lightningBugs, squeezed in the tight'ning Pink fist of a boy, at night. is the Zebra, of course!— A kind of a-clowu-of-a-horse,— Each other despising, Yet neither devising A way to obtain a divoroe! here is the famous What-is-itl Walk up, Master Billy, and kiss ib You’ve seen the rest of ’em— Ain't this the best of 'em, Right at the end of our visit? #*#*#* And is it possible, I sorrowfully muse, that all this glory can have fled away?—that more than twenty long, long years are spread between me and that happy night? And is it possible that all the dear old faces —O, quit it! quit it! Gather the old scraps ud and wad ’em back into oblivion, where they belong! Yes, but be calm —be calm! Think of cheerful things. You are not all alone. Billy's living yet I know —and six feet high, and sag-shouldered —and owns a tin and stove-store, aud can t hear thunder! Billy!! And the youngest Mills girl—she’s alive, too. S’pose 1 don't know that? I married her! And “Doc." — Bob married her. Been in California for more than fifteen years—on some blasted cattle-raneh, or something, and he’s worth a half a million!

A FLOWER PIECE. Written for the Indianapolia Journal. From somewhat sad And serious reflections upon human life, from struggles—that were all in vain—to comprehend its mysteries, I turn away and seek a solitude where I will be undisturbed by auy of my kind. The solitude, however, is in my own garden, and, though but a hundred steps away from my doorway, it is none the less a solitude, for it lies beyond the fairy forest of the asparagus bed. I take out my little blank-book, thinking to pencil down some vagrant thoughts or pensive musings on loneliness; then see with surprise that I am not alone, but in a crowd of individuals! Not exactly folks, neither are they phantoms or merely folly-fostered fancies, but, albeit somewhat fragile, all substantial, perceptible to most of the sensds, and bearing human names. Bouncing Betty is flaunting her gay gown between me and a bevy of fresh budding, bright, Sweet Margarets. And here, about the foot of stately Clytie, spreads a fair net-work of diminutive Mignonette, pouring out upon the evening air the overburdened sweetness of her heart More than one member of the large family of Veronica are looking toward the airy gracefulness of joyoushearted Columbine, as she swings lightly before them, showing that to her life is still, as it has ever been, a tull-dress, pearl-bespangled comedy. Near by Narcissus, smiling in the dreamy consciousness of a beauty equal to that of the myth that gave him birth, mournfully Righs young Hyacinth, whose every leaf still bears in classic characters a word of wailing woe. And here I see Sweet William, Sweet Basil and Sweet John, with a great body-guard of Soldiers in Green. Gazing on these with a passive stare stands simple farmer Timothy. Behind these ranks (I laugh when I behold them) there is such a jolly ring of face-making Johnny Jump-ups, with jackets and breeches, and turbans’of velvet, aud purple and gold. Their cousins are there too, Pansy,- with her smile like sunshine, and Violet, with that shy and shadowy face she brought from her old woodland home. Roses are here, the white and red, and to them is given forever the talismanic power to bring before the mental gaze a score of England's blood-red battle-fields, with all the pallid hosts they doomed to death, those long-gone rivalries of York and Lancaster. And here is the Lily, still pure and lovely as when she posed for her carven semblance on the pillars of the great temple, or enraptured the gaze of its mighty builder who wove her beauty in the wondrous song linked with his name; and was honored with sublimer notice still when He who spake as never man spake, said: “Consider the lilies; they toil not, neither do they spin; yet Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." But Lettuce grows drowsy, and Daisy droops, and Myrtle murmurs of love and melancholy to Rosemary, and Marigold has crowded me into a narrow pathway. So I am constrained to say: “Most good company and beautiful, good night, good night." Louise V. Boyd. Dublin, In<L, July. 1884. George Washington'* Spelling. San Francisco Bulletin. General Butler asserted in the Chicago convention that George Washington’s early education was so neglected that he never learned to spell correctly, and in his will wrote “oloathes” instead of “clothes." In a volume of selections from the Bible before me, printed in London, 1714, in Matthew xxi, 7, it is written, “and put on them their .oloathes," and Matthew vii, 16, “beware of false prophets which come to you in sheep's cloathing.” Edward Everett, in his famous lecture, says the boy Washington was taught daily from the Bible and Prayer-book. I have a copy of Washington’s “Farewell Address," printed In September, 1796, doubtless from an authentic manuscript, in which Washington, in the first sentence, wrote “cloathed,” because he found the word so written in his Bible, and in other books of his day. The combination, proportion, and process used in the preparation of Hood's Sarsaparilla, are peouliar to this medicine, and unknown to others.

THE STUDY OF ASTRONOMY. Written for the Journal by Wm. Dawson. I have stood and looked at the stars for a whole hour without moving my feet. Many persons have lain on their backs a much longer time and gazed up among the stars to learn their places, their names, and their motions, if any could be noticed. There is a thrill of interest, a real charm, in contemplating the starry heavens, not found in the busy rounds of day life. The people of early times—in the first ages of the world —while hunting for meat and tending their flocks by night were led to study the stars —to divide them into groupings or constellations. This is convenient for astronomical purposes, as well as having the land divided into states and provinces for the study and purposes of geography. But the first observers had no books to instruct them like we have now. They must be their own teachers as well as do their own studying. The experience of others, in a well-written book, is a great help, by saving much unnecessary looking and thought But we can now well afford to read and do some thinking for the knowledge thus easily obtained. I wish to notice anew work by Professors Sharpless and Philips, the formor of Haverford College, near Philadelphia, which I think is the best for either school use or home reading of any small astronomical work I know of. The style is easy and charming; the type is exceedingly clear and plain; and the illustrations so intelligible that they seem almost like apparatus itself in the hands of a skillful teacher. Any person who feels a slight wish to learn the elements of this noble science would do well, I think, to obtain a copy of this work. It is published by J, B. Lippincott & Cos., Philadelphia. With it, a star atlas and a telescope, even a good spy-glass; the intelligent amateur is well supplied with aid for obtaining much knowledge of astronomy. In my early astronomical aspirations I wanted some means of regulating the clock, so as to have nearly exact time; but had no noon-mark, nor a compass by which to make one. I supposed the north star was exactly north, all the time. So one night I put up two plumb-lines, the north one on a high pole, and made them to range with the north star, intending next day to watch when the sun came in range with them, at which time an assistant at the south door was to mark the edge of the shadow for a permanent noon mark. But I sooon found two or three difficulties. Next morning the star was out of range. I hardly thought the pumb-lines had been moved in the night, though it was possible; the second evening they were all right, but off again next morning. Surely the star had moved, but why or how much I could not tell. I looked and studied for the cause; inquired of several persons, but no one could tell me. After many days I found Burritt’s “Geography of the Heavens," in which I learned that the north star is not in the north pole, but near a degree and a half from it. So the rotation of the earth made the star appear to swing, ns it were, from east to west aound the polo—the same cause that makes the suu to rise and set. Then, of course, it would be due north twice in twentyfour hours —but when? I found that certain two stars, Gamma and Delta, in the Great Dipper, passed the meridian about the s&me time that Polaris (the north star) did I could see when these two dipper stars were near the meridian without any measurement; and was sure that Polaris was then north, or nearly so. I set the plumb-lines to range with it, and now had a north and south line—a meridian—at least near enough for my purpose. One point gained. But I observed that the door-frame (in theold log house) was not perpendicular; and this spoiled my calculation for a noon-mark. However, the two plumb-lines, of fine wire, could be fixed about three feet from the east end of the house, and secured with some degree of permanence. Having prepared smoked glass I now had a fair means of knowing when the sun was south—could easily apply the equation of time, and ascertain very nearly the moment of noon. You say this was a curious regulator; so it was; but it was my own, and I knew it was nearly correct; for it stood the oft-repeated test of ranging with Polaris when the star was nearly or quite due north, either above or below the pole of the heavens. Many a day I observed the sun passing the range of these vertical wires by which the clock was kept very near—say within a minute of—true time. No need of being too early or late at any meeting or place of business at a set time. Nowadays, when regulators are plenty, and watches vastly plentier, most people may obtain correot time very easily. But still the young astronomer wants to know how, and obtain it for himself.

But the one method of all others for obtaining accurate time to a second, is the transit instrument. To properly construct and mount one requires considerable knowledge and fine mechanical ability. Generally it might be advisable to purchase from an experienced workman, though such instruments are very expensive. In 1872, when I decided to make myself possessor of a transit, I already had an object-glass, two and a half inches aperature, which I could better afford to mount in transit form than to buy a finished instrument of same size at a cost of 8500, or even a much smaller one at a cost of $l4O. The objective cost me sl6 and all other parts about half as much. The study and work on it afforded a good lesson, and the result was gratifying; but a detailed description would be tedious for this paper.. The transit telescope must swing, or move vertically in the meridian. Working with the transit in obtaining time, etc., is fascinating employment. Calculate to a second when a certain star will cross the meridian; note its declination. A few seconds before the time, set the instrument to the proper altitude by a circle for the purpose, then look in and see the star already in the field, about to cross the wire, the instant of which you note carefully by tlie watch, and compare with the calculated time, and thus know how much too slow or fast the watch is. Observations on several stars of widely differing heights afford a good test of the quality and adjustments of the instrument. Although night is the common and proper time for general observation of the heavens, yet the day is not without astronomical interest; particularly when a telescope is at our command. The daily observation of spots on the sun is interesting because of their continental change. Various investigations requiring much labor and study show that the sun is about ninety-two and a half million miles from the earth. Now its size, nearly, may be calculated without going outside of arithmetic. Ereot a fine plumb-line and with a smoked glass, about noon, you may observe easily that the sun will be two minutes in crossing the line, showing that its diameter is half a degree; L e., any point on the earth by its daily motion passes over one degree in four minutes. Now, a little study and calculation will give the circumference of a circle whose radius is equal to the sun’s distance, and this divided by 720 (half degrees in a circle) will give something over 800,000 miles for the sun’s diameter, a result somewhat less than that bv the most re tinea process, which is about 850,000 miles. With a glass on equatorial mounting—even a small one—a person may do much valuable work in day time. Occasionally spots on the sun may be seen without a telescope, and so may Venus, in daytime, which are items of astronomical interest. About now is the time of year for studying a constellation of much interest near the southern horizon, and I think a few Journal readers would enjoy some account of its contents. I allude to Scoipio, the eighth constellation of the zodiAC. Here we find the large red star Antares, exactly south at 8:02 o'clock, July 26; and, like all other stars, it souths four minutes earlier every day. A star a little southeast of Antares, and another as far northwest, may serve to identify it Three bright stars in a vertical row to the right are in the west side of the constellation. The upper one is Beta; the lower one is Pi, and the middle star is Delta. Beta and Pi are six degrees apart, and about one-fourth this far west of Antares a good spy-glass will show a nebula called M. 4 (No. 4in Messier’s catalogue of nebula.) Another, M. 80, some brighter but not so large, is half way from Antares to Beta. Near 2° east of Beta, and a little above, is a fine double star called Nn. Beta itself ia a grand double, and both may be seen with a good-sized spy-glass. A little below Beta, to the left, you see a nice pair of stars without a glass. They are Omega 1 and Omega 2. A olose pair, barely separate with naked eye, is found 14° degrees below, and some to the left of Antares—more than twice the space between Beta

and Pi. Mu 1 and Mu 2 are their names. The brighter star, four degrees above this pair, is Epsilon. Nine degress east of Mu we find a conspicuous pair of stairs, the brighter of which is Lamda. These are near the east edge of the constellation. A curving row of stars below may bo traced from near Mu to Lamda. But you see a bright nebula with naked eye (if the moon is not about) near five degrees east of Lamda and some higher. A spy-glass begins to resolve it into stars, and the 46-inch telescope makes it appear as a large.and most beautiful cluster of bright stars near together. There are ether objects in this constellation which the interested hunter will pick up as he looks around with his good spy-glass or telescope. Spicei.and, July 24 MIDSUMMER MODES. Black lace shawls are again In fashion for mid-dle-aged ladies. Irish poplins and mohairs will be revived for the autumn season. * Cherries and currants are very popular at present for trimming black hats. Pongee dust cloaks are stylish., becoming, useful, durable, and inexpensive. A novel place for a lady’s watch pocket is on the left side about six Inches below the collar. Wide scarfs of muslin and Valenciennes laoe are passed around the shoulders and knotted in front like a fichu. Cuffs have again come into fashion for ladles. They are small and plain, and only worn on the street or when traveling. Old-fashioned chintzes and foulards have been revived, and there is a tendency to return toward the Dolly Varden style, Dresses of pure white and very sheer linen lawn are invariably chosen for midsummer wear by ladies in mourning, either young or elderly. In lining or facing a hat the velvet is not cut on the bias, as heretofore, but a square of the material is used, the hat placed thereon and the shape cut to fit the brim. Dresses with a separate basque or with an apron overskirt give girls an elderly and dressedup appearance, and are not becoming, except to tall, well-grown girls of fourteen or fifteen years of age. White toilets will be worn far Into the autumn season, and, as the weather grows cooler, above these will be worn close-fitting marquise coats of black velvet considerably longer in the skirts than the marquise jackets of last season. The skirts of dresses for girls of all aces are now made longer than they formerly were, falling always below the knees, and following the rule of reaching to the ankles for the first short skirts; then gradually growing shorter until the wearer is twelve or thirteen years old, when they begin to lengthen until the girl becomes a young women and wears long skirts. The nuns’ waist, which is simply a round one with a garniture of soft folds laid over the chest, and crossing at the belt, promises to be favored for dresses both plain and elaborate far some time to come, and all full yet trim effects in bodices will remain in vogue for airy summer fabrics, and also for those of soft wool and mixed materials for autumn wear, as well as in textures of the richest description for full-dress occasions. Red It Shall Be. New York Evening Poet. French ladies have suddenly taken to Italian styles in dress, which have proved remarkably becoming and effective. Red in every tone and combination is made use of, and if. as has always been said by Parisians, we are just a year behind them in fashions, next summer will see our fashionable resorts agleam with red toilets of every description, from darkest garnet to brilliant, fiery Pharaoh red, and the erratic, young lady of fashion's own, who goes to the last extreme and done an entire toilet made up of the latter shade, will have to be looked at and admired through a piece of smoked glass.

The First President of the Texan Republic. Alexander Hynds, in the August Century, About two years after the revolution, General Houston had his first difficulty with the people. Under the Constitution the capital had been fixed at Austin, but power was given to the President to order the temporary removal of the archives in ease of danger. The Cotnanches were committing ravages within sight of Austin, and General Houston ordered the State records to be forwarded to him at Washington (Texas). This caused much excitement in Austin, and four hundred men placed themselves about the Statehouse to prevent the removal. Colonel Morton, a leading spirit of the revolution, was at their head, and wrote to General Houston, who well knew his character as a fighting man. that, if the archives were removed, he (Morton) would hunt him down like a wolf. General Houston replied in a note of oharacteri stic berevity: “If the people of Austin do not send them, 1 shall come and get them, and if Colonel Morton can kill me, he is welcome to my ear-cap.” The guard was at once doubled,patrolmen were placed on the roads, and a select committee went into permanent session in the city halL During a sitting of that body one who was unannounced suddenly stood in their midst, having gained entrance by means of a tall live-oak which grew against the window; his garb and arms were those of a hunter, and, being spoken to by Colonel Morton, he placed his finger on his lips and remained silent Colonel Morton flew into a rage and seized him, when the stranger drew his bowie-knife; at the instant Morton's friends held him back. Another member of the body spoke to the stranger, saying that the meeting was a private one, and that he presumed the gentleman had mistaken the house. At this he walked to a table and wrote one line, “I am deaf.” Judge Webothen wrote, “Tell us your business,” when a letter was handed him, addressed to the citizens of Austin, which the Judge read aloud as follows: “Fellowcitixens: Though in error, and deceived by tne arts of traitors, I will give you three more days to decide whether or not you will forward to me the archives. At the end of that time you will please let me know your decision. Sam Houston." The deaf man waited a few moments for a reply, and was about to leave, when Colonel Morton handed him a note, saying, “You were brave enough to insult me; are you brave enough to give me satisfaction?" The mute wrote, “I am at your service" and after fixing terms he left by the window. Morton was told that he would be killed, as he was to fight Deaf Smith, who never missed his man; but he could not be shaken in his resolve. The weapons used were rifles, the distance was a hundred paces, and the time sunset A vast crowd saw the duel. Morton was dressed in broad-cloth, his antagonist in smoke-tinted buckskin. Both were cool and stem. At the given signal both fired at. the same instant; Morton sprang into the air and fell dead, a ball in his heart. Deaf Smith quietly reloaded his rifle and walked into the forest. Three days afterward he came -rith General Houston and ten others to Austin, and the archives were removed without further opposition. While President of the Republic, Houston received a challenge to fight a duel, sort by a man whom he regarded as greatly his inferior socially. Turning to the bearer of the challenge, he exclaimed, in a voice full of indignant scorn, “Sir, tell your principal that Sam Houston never fights down hill.” It was his habit to deliver his message to the Texan Congress orally. A few days before one of his inaugurals, a member of Congress said to the President that the body would be better pleased if he would prepare written messages; that it would be treating them more respectfully to write them out, and, nesides, they could then be preserved for future reference. Accordingly, on the day fixed for the inauguration, he appeared with a large roll of paper in. his hand tied with a blue ribbon, and marked in large letters “Inaugural.” He addressed them with the roll in his hand, waving it gracefully that all might see it, and, concluding with a polite bow, handed it to the olerk and walked out of the chamber; when opened it proved to be only blank The relief given to soreness of the throat and lungs by a few drops of Dr. Wistaria Balsam of Wild Cherry ia most pleasing to the afflicted. This remedy is the best that can be made from our present knowledge of drugs, and cures coughs, colds and all pulmonary irritation as if by magic. It has cured many cases of consumption when doctors had given up all hopes. Keep it in your homes. 0 you oontinue to suffer and are determined to die, before your time, you hare only yourself to blame. Wistaria Balsam will surely curs you. Take no substitute.

RAILWAY TIME-TABLE. (TRAINS RUN BY CENTRAL STANDARD TIMB.) Trains inarked thus, r. c., reclining chair car; t’m. s., sleeper; thus, p., parlor car; thus, h„ hotel car. (Bee Line) C., CL, C, A Indianapolis. Depart—New York ami Boston Express, daily, s 6:lsani Dayton. Columbus aud New York Express, c. c 10.10 an Anderson and Michigan Express... 10.50 am Wabash and Muucie Express.... 5:155pm New York and Boston, daily s. c. o. 7:15 pm BRIGHTWOOD DIVISION. Daily 4:00 am 3:30 om Daily 10:10 am 5:25 om Daily 10:50am 7:lspm Dailv 2:10 pm Arrive—Louisville. New -Orleans and Sb. Louis Express, daily 6:40 am Wnbash. Fort Wayne nnd Muncie Express v 10:35 am Benton Harbor and Anderson Express ... .....1 2:oopm % ®Dton, Indianapolis and Southern Express.... s:sopm Aew York and St. Louis Express, daily 10:85 nm Chicago, St. Louis & Pittsburg. Depart—New York, Philadelphia Washington. Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily, s 4:25 am Dayton and Columbus Express, except Sunday 10:45 am Richmond Accommodation 4:00 pm NewYork, Philadelphia. Washing, ton. Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily, h 4;55pm Arrie.—“ x l? re ” s ' except Sunday... 4:55pm Arrive—Richmond Accommodation, except Sunday 9:40 am 6W York, Philadelphia, Washington, Baltimore ana Pittsburg Express daily 11:37 am toiumbus and Dayton Express, except Sunday ... 5:27 pm New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily . 10:20pm Dayton Express, daily, except SunCHICAGO DIVISION VIA KOKOMO, P., C. 4 BT. U R.V Depart—Louisville and Chicago fcxpress, Louisville and Chicago Fast Exa ™ P re9s ’ daily, s 11:00 pm Arrive—Chicago and Louisville Fast Express, daily, s. 3:59am Chicago and Louisville Express, Jeffersonville, Madison A Indianapolis. Depart—Southern Express, daily, s 4; 10 am Louisville and Madison Express.... 7:25 am Louisville and Madison mail, p. 0.. 3:50 pm Louisville Express, daily 6:45 pm Arrive—lndianapolis and Madison Mail 9:45 am Indianapolis, St. Louis and Chicago Express, daily, p 10:45 am New York and Northern Fast Express. r. c. 7:00 pm St. Louis, Chicago and Detroit Fast Line, daily, s 10:45 pm Cincinnati, Indianapolis, St. Louis A Chicago. CINCINNATI DIVISION. Depart—Cincinnati Fast Line, oaily, s. and c. c 4:00 am Indianapolis. Rushville and Columbus Accommodation 7:00 am Cincinnati and Louisville Mail. p. c. 3:45 pm Chicago, Rook Island and Peoria Express, daily 6:55 pin Arrive—lndianapolis Accommodation, daily. 10:30 am Chicago and St. Louis Mail, p. c... .11:50 am Indianapolis, Rushville and Columbus Accommodation *.... 8:10 pm Chicago, Peoria and St. Louis Night Line, daily, s. and o. c 10:45 pm CHICAGO DIVISION. Depart—Chicago, Peoria and Omaha Express 7:10 am Chicago Fast Mail, p. o 12:10 pm Accommdation 5.00 pa Chicago and Peoria Night Lina. daily, r. c 11:20pm Arrivo—Cincinnati Fast Line, daily, o. c. ands 3:35 am Accommodation 10:40 am Cincinnati and Louisville Fast Mail p. c. 3:30 pm Chicago. Rock Island and Peoria Ex. 6:40 pm

Vandalia Lins. Depart—Matt Train 7:15 am Day Express, daily, p., h 11:55 am Terre Haute Accommodation 4:00 pm Pacific Express, daily, a 10:45 pm Arrive—New York Express, daily 3:50 am Indianapolis Mail and Accom 10:00 am Cincinnati andLouisville Fast Line.. 3:30 pm Kew York Express, daily, h 4:40 pm Wabash, St. Louis A Pacific. Depart—Detroit and Chicago Mail 7:15 am Toledo. Fort Wayne, Grand Rapids and Michigan Express, s 2:15 pm Peru Passenger 6:00 pm Detroit through coach on 0., St. L. and P. Express 11:00 pm Arrive—lndianapolis Passenger 8:45 am Pacific Express, s 11:30 am Detroit and Chicago Mail 8:55 pm Detroit through coach on 0., St. L. and P. Express 4:00 am Indiana, Bloomington A Western. PEORIA DIVISION. Depart—Pacific Expres and Mail 7:30 am Kansas and Texas Fast Line, r. c... 5:05 pm Burlington and Rock Island Express, daily, r. c. ands 11:10 pm Arrlve —Eastern and Southern Express, daily, r. e. ands Cincinnati Special, r. c 11:15 am Atlantic Express and Mail 6:15 pm ST. LOUIS DIVISION. Depart Moorefield Accommodation 6:30 am Mail and Day Express 8:05 am Night Express, dally, r. e 11:05 pm Arrive —Night Express, daily, r. o 3:55 am Mail and Day Express 6:00 pm Moorefield Accommodation 6:lopm EASTERN DIVISION. Depart—Eastern Express, Mail, daily, s, re. 4:20 am Dav Express 11:45 am Atlantic Express, r. e 6:45 pm Arrive—Pacific Express, r. o 7:ooam Western Express 4:40 pm Burlington and Rock Island Express, daily, s andr. c........... 10:35pm Indianapolis A St. louis. Depart—Day Express, daily, o. o 7:10 zm Paris Express 3:oopm Boston aud St. Louis Express, p... 6:lspm New York and St. Louis fxpress, daily, s. and o. © 10:o5pm Arrive—New York and Boston Express, daily, c. 3:55 am Local Passenger, p - 9:50 am Indianapolis Express 3:15 pm Day Express, c. c., daily 6:35pm ■ - ■■ Cincinnati, Hamilton A Indianapolis. Depart—Cincinnati, Dayton & Toldeo 4.-00 am Cincinnati, Dayton, Toledo and New York 10:50 am Connersvitte Accommodation 4:3opm Cincinnati, Dayton, Toledo and New York Express 6:4opm Arrive —Connersvitte Accommodation 8:30 am -Cincinnati, Peoria and St. Louis.. 11:50am Cincinnati Accommodation 5:00 pm Cincinnati, Peoria and St. Louis... 10:40pm Louisville, New Albany A Chicago. (Michigan and Grand Rapids Line.! Depart—Michigan and Grand Rapids Ex 12:01 pm Monon Accommodation 5:00 pm ( Arrive —Monon Accommodation 10:00 am Michigan and Grand Rapids Ex... .11:45 pm Indianapolis A Vincennes. Depart—Midi and Cairo Express 7:20 am Vincennes Accommodation........ 4:oopm. Arrive—Vincennes Accommodation 10:15 am Mail and Cairo Express 6:30 pm ancinnallTwabash A Michigan Railway. (Over the Bee-line. ) Depart—lndianapolis and Grand Rapids Ex* pres* 4:15 am Michigan Express ...11:00am Arrive —Cincinnati and Indianapolis Express 2:14 pm Indianapolis and St. Louis Exp... .10:54nm GRAND HOTJULJ INDIANAPOLIS, IND. Passenger ’elevator and all modefn convenience* Leading Hotel of the city, and strictly first-olass Rates. $2.50, $3 and $3.50 per day. The Uttorprie including bithi ULO> F> PFINGHS^ Proprietor ITuramwSßmS MANUFACTURE*! OF ISAWSi THE FINEST AND MOST DURABLE MADB. Order* or Inquiries wilt have Prompt AtteaUm All kinds of saw* repaired.