Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 January 1885 — Page 9

Printed by Special Arrangeinent with the Author. By FRANK R. STOCKTON. [Copyrighted 1884, by the Author—All Rights Reserved.] In relating the following story, the motive of which is the true love I felt for my sweetheart Belle, I shall, for tho most part, omit the love. This mutual affection had grown, warmed by the most generous sun, and nourished by the most ▼ivifymg showers under which true love ever throve, into an engagement between Belle and myself. But there it stopped; and, as far as we could see, there was no probability that the ieasons of love would proceed in the usual order. The spring of our affeetion had passed, and we were enjoying the early glories of summer, but now our earth had appeared to pause in its orbit and to refuse to incline its axis in the convential manner which should induce theripened fullness of the year. It was impossible for us to fix a date for our marriage, and yet, upon first sight, there would seem to be no reason why we shsuld not marry whenever we chose. I was the physician of the village in which we lived, and my practice, although not large and not very remunerative, would, I was quite sure, support two as well as one; and everybody knows that a young doctor ought to be married if he wishes to succeed. Belle was an orphan, and there was no one who could legally prevent her from becoming my wife whenever she saw fit to do so. But, although circumstances seemed favorable in both our eases, there was an obstacle in tho way, and that obstacle was Belle’s brother Horace. Horace wa3 a good fellow, a kind brother to Belle, a genial companion to me, and talented in many ways—rather too many, in fact. He and his sister had a small income on which they mangcd to live; but, although he was at least thirty, Horace had no regular business. He had studied law for a time, had taught school for a time, and for another time had had something to do with civil engineering. He had some very queer notions, and one of these was that ho would not consent to live with us after we were married. A woman, he said, could not at the same time do her whole duty to her husband and a brother, and he made the point, to which in my own mind I could but agree, that he would be a bar to our domestic harmony. On tho other hand Belle positively refused to leave her brother until he was settled in business. At present he was undecided, troubled and anxious, and, without her, there was no knowing what should become of him. When Horace would he fairly started in life, then might Love's seasons recommence their course; then might our earth’s axis gently tip; then might full summer come—and marriage. At the time my story opens we were all in a state of worried excitement Horace had long been of the opinion that to own and edit a newspaper would suit him better than anything else in tbe world. What he wanted was a country newspaper, with a barely supporting subscription and advertising patronage, and which might, therefore, be hold at a price which should come within his means. This paper he so proposed to improve, both by his general management and his pen, that it would he taken all over the country, and perhaps have an agency in London and other foreign places. He would make its contents of such general interest that it would be read as eagerly in Texas or Australia as in the county in which it was printed. To those who knew Horace well this seemed the most promising of his schemes for life work. He had a very peculiar and lively wit; could make a good annecdote better by telling it, never forgot anything worth remembering, lively interest in current events, quickly perceiving their humorous sides, if they happened to have any, and often giving them one if they had not. We all felt that if Horace owned a paper he would put his whole soul into it, and then ho would succeed. He could not expect to be able to start one; but to bay a journal already established is often within the reach of persons of moderate means. The cause of our present nervous anxiety was tho fact that norace had recently heard that in the adjoining county there was a weekly newspaper for sale which would suit him exactly. The editor and proprietor,who was a clergyman, had long been desirous of giving up journalism and taking charge of a church, and had pnly been prevented by the difficulty of disposing of his paper. An opportunity to make the change in his life that he wished had just occurred to him. A country church, not far from the town where he lived, had been for some years under the charge of a young minister, whose health ! had become very much broken. He had been counseled to seek a climate more suitable to his health, but had been unable to do so for want of means. He not only needed money to travel, but ho had debts which he would not ■ leave unpaid. His church owed him considerable arrearages of salary, making a sum quite sufficient for his purposes, but which it was at present unable to pay. The cause of this accumulation of pastoral debt was rathen peculiar. A widow had died and left a legacy to the church, which its officers had determined to appropriate to the much-needed repairs of the edifice. But there had been a delay in the payment of the legacy, the executors of the will having not yet made eertain sales, upon which this payment depended. The young minister, who was very zealous for the good of his parish, had heretofore consented that the money which would otherwise have been paid to him, should be used for the repairs, while he would wait for the payment of the legacy. This would have been all very well but for the failure of his health. Winter was coming on, and he ought to go away as soon as possible; he could not do so without money, and his congregation was poor. It was now well known to the editor of tho newspaper, before mentioned, that the church would be ready to accept him as its pastor as 6oon as the money could he raised to enable the present incumbent to leave. If he could sell his newspaper he would be perfectly willing to advance this money and wait for payment until the legacy should be received by the church.The young minister was no less anxious to go South than was the editor to se cure his church. If the money should bo obtained from some other quarter, the present incumbent would depart, and the editor would thus 1030 his opportunity, foeJbe could not afford to give up his paper until he had found a purchaser, and the vacant pulpit would soon be filled by someone else. In this case, too, Horace would lose his great chance of settling in life, and Belle and I could not marry. If this momentous tr&in of events should happen to start at the wrong end all would be woe for us. If it should start at the other end —that is, our end—all would be joy. So far as we could see, there was only one way of starting it properly. Among the various bents

of Horace’s mind was one for mechanics, and he had made an invention which seemed to possess real merit This was a “heel turner,” or machine for turning the heels of stockings. I never understood its mechanism, not being: apt at such things, and all I know about it is that it was intended to save a great deal of trouble to knitters who are not proficient in “wurning the heel” of socks and stockings. The knitter knit down to the heel, then she put her work into the machine, set it in motion, and when the heel was turned, took it out and went on with her knitting. If Horace could dispose of this valuable invention, even at the lowest price at which he would be willing to sell it, he could buy the country newspsper; the editor could lend the money to the church, who would pay off the invalid clergyman and let him go South, with the ex-editor as his successor; and Horace being settled, the best of all things could happen to Belle and myself. As might well be supposed, Horace, who was a nervous man, was in a fever oi excitement in regard to this affair. He now thought of nothing but the sale of his heel-turner. If he could dispose of it, even for enough to make the first cash payment demanded by the editor, he could enter into possession, and had no doubt of his ability to make the small periodic payments which would complete the purchase. If he could not sell his invention nothing could be done. Borrowing was out of the question even if he could have found any one who would lend him money, for Horace was not a borrowing man. I was almost as much excited as Horace; for I considered the case more important to me than to him. If in any way I could have raised the money I would not have hesitated a moment to buy the heel-turner, even- if I should do nothing with it but to stow it away in a corner. It would have been cheap at any price. But, al though the income from my practice was sufficient for my ordinary needs, it would be utterly impossible for me to raise a sum large enough to buy tho right to the heel-turner, and to set in motion that machinery which should turn the heel, so to speak, of my existence. Horace had made every effort possible to find a purchaser, and we all began to be in despair. I was very much depressed, for if this affair should fall through Horace would be more unsettled than ever, and Belle might make up her mind to cling to him through life,|as many a girl gives up true love and a happy home to twine herself in dutiful spirals about some unfortuuate relative whose jagged trunk and branches seem to need the protection of her sheltering leaves. With my feelings very plainly indicated on my countenance, I was walking down the main street of the village, when, in front of the large house belonging to our lawyer, I saw John Broadly. John was a poor man and a very industrious one, who was held in high repute by everybody in the place. This good fellow had had his troubles, but we all hoped that they were soon coming to an end. He was at present toiling day after day and week after week in the grounds of the lawyer, earnestly engaged in “working out a divorce;” that is to say, he was digging and planting and doing anything else that might be required, until he had in this way paid the costs of a legal separation from his wife. When I first came to the village I found Mrs. Broadly a very peculiar invalid, with a complication of diseases, which not only taxed my abilities but aroused my ambition. For nearly two years I attended her daily, aud sometimes nightly, and supplied, besides, a good deal of costly medicine, and John was not able, by means of her many other requirements, to pay me a cent But I felt rewarded by my great success, for I entirely cured Mrs. Broadly, and thereby greatly raised my reputation in the place. But, alas! it might have been better for John if his wife had never recovered. When she got well she made things so hot for him and conducted herself generally in such a way that everybody considered John justified when he determined to apply for a divorce. This he had obtained, and he was now laboring hard, with spade and wheelbarrow, to pay for it “Well, John, ’’said I, “how are you getting on?” “Pretty well, Doctor,” answered he, coming down to the front fence. “In a couple of weeks more I’ll be done here, and then I’m square with Mr. Forbes. It seems a little aueerish that I should first pay him for getting rid of my wife before I pay you for giving her back to me out of the very claws of death, for it looked that way to everybody. But when you’re married and settled, Doctor, and have grounds to be fixed up and a garden to be made, I’ll come and work for you just as I am a doin’ here. I’ve bad hard times, and have lost a good deal of money by workiu’ where I was never paid; but unless my legs and arms give out, Doctor, I’ll see you don’t lose anything by me.” “I’m afraid I shall not want a garden veiy soon,” I answered: “and it would seem a pity, anyway, for you to be working to pay for what really caused you a great deal of. misery. If it had not been for me, what a lot of trouble you would have been saved.” 4 ‘Oh; you mustn’t look at it that way, Doctor, ” said John, “it isn’t pious. You eured her, which was your duty, and I endured her as long as I could, which was mine; and row she’s happily gone, and you can’t imagine what a comfort ’tis to me, Doctor, to think that I put her away well and hearty. I never could a’ rested happy if I hadn’t done that. But you don’t look happy. Has things been goin’ wrong?’ 7 ” John took an interest, I knew, in ray affairs, and so I did not object to tell him that I was worried because I could not raise money enough to buy the heel turner invention. He greatly wondered why I should want to make such a purchase as this, and his eager questions broueh t out all the facts of the case. The worthy man was much amused, and burst out laughing. “Wby, Doctor,” he exclaimed, “that’s as good a story as I’ve heard this many a day. It beats the books. But I’m sorry for you if you’ve got nothing better to depend on than buying that heel-turner. Even if you could raise the monev it would be a bad speculation. Them as cant turn heels will never knit.” As I walked away from John Broadly I could not help thinking of the amusement the recital of my difficulty had given him. It was a good story; no doubt of it As my mind dwelt upon the matter a queer idea came to me. Suppose I were to write this storj’ and by selling it raise money enough to got us out of our troubles! There would be something delightfully fitting about that. To make tho story of our perplexfties the cure of the natural troubles would be an odd, but glorious, triumph. This idea now took possession of my mi . and the more I thought about it the better 1 liked it. Horace and Belle might object to have this story told, but I would not only keep my own eounsel about it, I would send it somewhere where they would not see it, and thus nobody interested would ever be annoyed. I had frequently written stories which had been heard with apparent satisfaction bv my friends, but I had never published anything, and knew nothing in regard to the monetary value of munuscripts such as I proposed to write. I determined to write the story. There was nothing else that I could do, and if the train of circumstances on which our fortunes depended should not be started until my work was done I mysolf might do the starting, and I asked nothing better than that By day and by night, using every minute that I could spare from my practice and necessary sleep, I worked at my story. After what seemed to me a long period of waiting, rewriting, correction and copying, the manuscript was finished and ready to be sold. I will not recount my experiences in endeavoring to dispose of it to one periodical after another. In every case I opened my correspondence with an inquiry in regard to the price I might expect in case of acceptance, and the answers I received convinced me that there was no hope of my selling the story to any periodical for enough money to carry out my intentions. This very much surprised as well as depressed me; but it so hap pened shat, l was suddenly obliged to make a business visit to a neighboring city; and hero I met a gentleman whose business it was to supply original stories and articles to a combination or syndicate of newspapers scattered all over the country, aud who was tnus enabled to pay authors a very good price for their work. To this gentleman I submitted my story, and in a few days after my return home I received an offer from him for it. The price proposed was uot as high as I had hoped it would be, but I accepted it. It might not be enough to give the impetus to that movement of my affairs which I desired, but I would try wbrt could be done with it As soon as my check arrive... I had it cashed and went to Horace to offer to buy his heelturner. “I haven’t eaough to pay for it out and out,” I sa*d, “but I thought perhaps you would let me have it and take this much on account” Horace was naturally surprised at both my ability and wish to ptirehaso his invention, but he was also very much pleased. “I would rather you should own it than any one else,” he cried. “If you manage it properly it Fill make

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, JANUARY 17, 1885.

your fortune. As for tho money, of course it does not represent anything like the true value of the invention, but I will sell it to you for a smaller cash payment than I would take from anybody else in the world.” “Do you think this will bo enough to enable you to buy the paper?” I asked. ..“I have a little that I can add to it,” said Horace, “and Mr. Henley is so anxious to dispose of his paper that I believe he will take this, and let the rest go on installments. If I can get a chance to carry out my journalistic plans. I will give the paper'a boom that will enable me to pay off everything in less time than he will give me. I shall take the 10 o'clock train, and see him before he goes to his dinner.” There wqs something about the manner of Horace which did not exactly please me. I had expected him to he widely grateful, but his manner seemed to . imply that, while he was greatly delighted to get the money, he felt that he had conferred a great favor on me by letting me have his confounded machine for a little cash. What he was going to charge me for it in the future I did not know, nor did I care. He might have it back again whenever he liked. If things worked well, he had coaferra 1 the greatest possible favor upon me, but not in the way he supposed. That afternoon I went to see Belle, whom I found in a state of pleasurable nervousness. Knowing how much I had the matter at heart, she had not been surprised at my being able to raise the money, but she persisted in considering it in the light of a personal gift to Horace from an all too generous man. “What do you want with a heel-turner?” she said. “It will be of about as much uso to you as a planet-corer." “What is that?” I exclaimed. “Why, a thing to take the core out of worlds, so that the inhabitants on opposite sides will not have to go way round. You know that wouldn’t be of any value to you.' 1 “But, my dear,” I said, “that most charming invention that I expect to get ” “Do you mean to say that you bought?” she cried, with sparkliug eyes. The necessity of an answer was prevented by the tempestuous entrance of Horace. “Behold me!” he shouted, throwing his hat on the floor and pulling himself up to his loftiest height, “I am the editor!” Into our excited minds Horace now poured his story. The Rev. Mr. Henley had jumped at his offer. He had heard that letters had passed between the officers of the church he wanted and a clergyman in the West, and the news had greatly agitated him. The chance of securing a parish so near his present home, and in every way so congenial to him, must not be lost, and he would have sold his paper for almost any sum in hand. What more was necessary to anticipate the payment of the widow’s legacy, and so facilitate the departure of the present incumbent, he could obtain from other resources. Now all was turmoil, for Horace vowed he must be off immediately. It was necessary that he should be instructed in the constitution and working journal; that he should bo introduced to people; that he should arrange for running a little while on credit; that he should talk to advertisers; that he should do a thousand things. He must go to morrow. Regardless of the inconvenience which this sudden upsetting of her domestic affairs caused to Belle, she most gladly assisted her brother to depart, and sat up i.earlv all night to see that his clothes were in order; while I did everything I could do, and promised even more than I could do. feeling all the time as if I were driving him into an Eden in order that I might enjoy a better one. Horace was now settled at his life work, Belle had taken up her temporary residence with an aunt it* the village, and I was in the vestibule of paradise. We were to be married in a month. No one could see any possible reason for delay. About a week before the day appointed for our wedding I received a letter from Horace which threw me into consternation. The seasons of my life and love had advanced once more, with all their joys and beauties, their opening flowers, and their ripening grain, and all the glories of the perfected year seemed just at hand, when that letter, like a cold wind from the north, loaded with sleet, hail aud bitter chill, swept down upon me, threatening blight and ruin. The plane of my ecliptic and the axis of my soul seemed to have forgotten that they had anything to do with each other, and August threatened to step back to March. Horace wrote in the highest spirits and with the brightest hopes. The first number of the paper issued under his editorship had created quite a stir. A number of people wlw> had never cared for it before came in to subscribe. New advertisements that had been procured had lifted the heavy end of his running expenses, and he was about to introduce a novel feature which he was sure would help him more than anything he had done. He would print every week a first-class American story which had never appeared before. Country papers could not, ordinarily, afford to pay for such stories, but he had made a contract with a literary agent who could furnish them on exceedingly reasonable terms. He gave me tho name of this agent. It was the man to whom I had sold my story. No one will wonder at my consternation. The new feature was to begin immediately, and it was very likely, indeed more than likely, that, among other stories. Horace would receive the narrative of his own peculiar misfortunes and predicaments. If, in the midst of his many duties, he had not time to read the manuscript, it might even be put into type and huried into his paper; and, in this case, the whole remarkable chain of events would be portrayed in one of its links. Horace was such a sensitive man, such a passionate and impulsive man. that I knew not how his impetuous spirit would break out if he this story. Belle, too, was as high-spirited as her brother. I trembled for everything for which I hoped. The great point now was to get married. Once united to Belle I felt that I could defy even this fate, and my anxiety for the ceremony must have appeared ridiculous. I even proposed to Belle that we should be married on Monday instead of Thursday. But at this she laughed; she could not possibly be ready so soon, and, besides, it was too absurd. On Wednesday ..Horace wrote that be had every possible desire to attend the wedding, but be had so much on hand which must be done ho really did not see bow he was going to do it. At all events he could not expect to arrive before the hour appointed for the ceremony. It hap pened, fortunately, at this time that our village was peculiarly healthy, and that I was little called upon in a professional way. Had it been otherwise, I fear that my reputation would have suffered. The day arrived; the thunder-cloud had not yet broken, and the wedding party went to the church. Horace had not come, and now I hoped with all my heart he would uot come. His very appearance would unnerve me. * Our good old pastor proceeded very slowly with the ceremony, and he actually stopped for a moment when at the words, “when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed.” I hastily murmured, “I will,"and, withareproving glance, he recommenced the sentence. How could I help my feeling of nervous haste when into my mind there continually came the figure of Horace bursting into the ehurch, wildly wav ing a newspaper over his head, and forbidding the ceremony to proceed? But this apparition appeared not. We were safely married, and left the village for a short bridal trip. When we returned I took ray wife to the home I had prepared for her. and all would have been pertect* happiness for both of us had it not been for roy anxiety on account of that unfortunate story. And yet I could not call it unfortunate Had it not been for its aid I should not now be married. If it had only been some other story! But I never could have thought of anything so odd. so acceptable to an editor as this. My uneasiness in regard to this matter was greatly increased by some remarks of my wife very soon after we had settled in our now home. * “Our life is charming,” she said, “but when I think in what a queer way all this came to be, and how it depended oa such a funny string of things, it seems perfectly ridiculous, and 1 wouldn’t have anybody know of it for the wor'd. The idea of our marriage depending on your buying a heel turner, and somebody else going into the ministry! How everybody would laugh if it were known! But as nobody will know, it does not matter, and we will put the model of Horace’s machioo on a bracket in some quiet corner, and cover It with laurel wreaths and anything else that looks pretty.” How people would laugh if they knew it! And what would Belle think if she read it in her brother's own paper—that journal so eagerly perused every week? And even if Horace did not {irinfc it. he would be sure to see it in some of lis exchanges. How to avert this certain danger I knew not I had thought of writing to the literary agent, and asking him not to sell the story to Horace. But this would be of little use, as it would appear in other quarters;

and, besides, any request of that kind would connect, in the agent’s miod, my brother-in law with the matter. Any one in my place, possessed of sufficient means, would have instantly endeavored to buy the story back again. But my marriage had strained my resources to their utmost. I could do nothing in this way. The trouble I was in could not fail to have a noticeable effect on me, and Belle probed my heart with many an affectionate inquiry; while Horace, who bounced in on us occasionally, remarked that I did not look half as happy as I ought to be. I was in my office one morning just preparing for my daily round, when John Br oadly came in. “Doctor,” said he, “I'm ready now to square up matters between us.” “I am sorry, John,” I answered, “but I don’t think that I can just now make any arrangements of the kind; I have a good deal on my mind, and I don't know what I will have done iu the gardening line. So, if you like, we ll put that off for the present.” “You do look troubled. Doctor,” said John Broadly, “but I haven’t come to talk about no garden work. I’m going to pay money down for what I owe you. You worked hard for it and you ought to have it.” And he took a fat wallet from his pocket. “Money down!” I exclaimed in astonishment “Why, where did you get it?” “You may well ask that.” said John, “for I didn’t expect it myself. There was a young minister in the next county who had me at work for him for a long time fixin’ up the grounds about his church, and his house, too. besides buyin’ young trees for him. He didn’t git no money from his congregation and he couldn’t pay my, and I never expected to see it. But lately he's been took sick and had to go away, and they’ve paid him up, and the first thing he did was to settle with me, fair and square. ” When John Broadly left mo I gave a glance at the clock. There was just time to visit the only one of my patients who really needed me, and to eatch the morning train to the city. By noon, I had seen the literary agent; had found that the story had not yet been sent out; had made him feel how urgent were niv personal reasons for suppressing it; and had obtained the manuscript, paying him for it with the money with which he had bought it of me. This gentleman was, indeed, well pleased to be relieved of a story which he had found difficult to dispose of on account of the author not possessing literary fame. John Broadly cheered his heart by paying an honest debt, and ridding himself of the necessity of doing a lot of work for nothing, which, he said, to him was the hardest kind of labor. The young clergyman, with a free conscience, sped away to renew his health. The reverend editor entered upon his ministry with an earnest and thankful heart. Horace, whose journalistic success increased with every week, might be considered as settled iu a life-work which satisfied his every craving, while I had Belle, and Belle had me; and, besides that, we had the heel-turner, the balance of payment on which Horace begged his sister to accept as her dowry. I burned the manuscript in my office grate. It had never been printed: it had- never entered on the course for which it had been intended; its very sale had been canceled, and the money received for it had been paid back. It disappeared in smoke and curling cinders, and yet it had accomplished its purpose, and the story that it had been written to tell went on. As for the heei-turner, having helped to turn this point in my life, it never turned anything else. ■ ■ WHY GENERAL GRANT QUIT SMOKING. A Swelling of the Tongue that Recalls tho Case of Senator Hen Hill. New York Sun In the latter part of last' summer, General Grant, who was then stopping at Long Branch, suffered from a swelling of the tongue. It was at the back of the tongue, and ho paid little attention to it at first. He consulted physicians who were also summering at Long Branch, aud when his regular physician, Dr. Fordyce Barker, returned from Europe, he was called in. This was in September, and the swelling had then increased so that the General could hardly speak, and swallowed with difficulty. Dr. Barker thought the trouble very serious, and advised General Grant to consult Dr. J. 11. Douglass for local treatment. Gen. Grant had at this timo a very bad tooth, and by advice of both physicians he had this tooth extracted early in November. Tho operation was intensely painful, but he bore it with his usual firmness. The physicians thought also that'his incessant smoking aggravated the disorder, and ordered him to smoke only tho first half of a cigar three times . daily. Os his own accord he cut down his habit of smoking from twelve or fifteen cigars daily of one cigar a day. He continued this for a week, aud then ceased smoking altogether until Christmas. On Christmas morning he lit a cigar, our, had taken only two puffs when lie recollected that he had gone two months without smoking and threw the cigar away, determined to stop the habit altogether. Dr. Parker said last night: “General Grant is the most extraordinary man I ever saw. He combines, and this is very strange, great sensibility and great power of endurance in his nervous system. It is a most remarkable thing that a man should suddenly cease smoking who has been accustomed to smoke so many and so very strong cigars without injury to his nervous system. Yet this is the case with him. He has not lost his appetite. and has slept as soundly as ever since his determination not to smoke. When I first learned of his trouble I was greatly alarmed, but since his troublesome tooth was extracted and he gave up smoking ne has improved greatly. We told him to smoke only the first half of a cigar, because all the nicotine a smoker receives from a cigar is from the Ihst half. He can eat and speak distinctly now, and feels quite well generally. I cannot say that he is out of danger, because I do not know that, but he has improved greatly. He writes a great deal, and takes considcx-able pleasure in his literary labors.” “Doctor, it is reported that tho General has been suffering from a cancer of the tongue, similar to that which caused the death of Senator Hill, of Georgia. Senator Hill’s physicians thought that the cancer was caused by his inoessant smoking.” “Well, I won’t sav whether there was danger of a cancer or not. f cannot state, either, whether the trouble was caused by smoking; but Dr. Douglass and I thought that the smoking irritated the swelling, and made it worse. By the use of the new local anaesthetic, muriate of cocaine, the pain of the tissues has been greatly controlled, and the whole appearance as to swelling and redness has improved. I caunot say about thy similarity of the Genertl’s case to that of Senator Hill, because I do not remember what Senator Hill’s trouble was.” A Newspaper Gold Bline. London Letter. If you want “show” combined with rapid money making, you must pay a visit to the office of the Daily Telegraph in Fleet street. The paper lived on sensation until it arrived at such a pitch of prosperity as now enables it to practice au independence. But it owes its success to the enterprise of the Levy-Lawsons, whose efforts alone have made it worth £250.000 a year, although when the present proprietary took it ovtr from Col. Sleigh, who started it in 1855, the advertisements in the first, number amounted to no more than 7s. Cd. Fifteen years later the advertisement money was estimated at £OOO a day, and the circulation had gone above 190,000 copies. To day it ishardiy possible to say what amount the advertisement columns daily bring in, but it has been stated that in one day the gross income from that source has exceeded £I,GOO while the sale of the paper rarely Jails below 220,000 and frequently tops a quarter of a million. In a slack season more than 2 000 advertisements are daily received, but during the Parliamentary session, once, and sometimes twice a week, the journal is enlarged to twelve pages and the total number of advertisements published raised to nearly 5,000. In order to deal with this mass of matter and stupendous circulation extensive composing rooms and machine rooms are required. The machine room contains ten Hoe presses, which generally run two hours each, turning out 12.000 copies each an hour. Besides these are some smaller presses and a row of paper dampers. As much of the paper as possible is made at the Daily Telegraph mills at Dartford, in Kent, and the nrolit on this item alone is £20.000 per annum. Out of their princely returns it is not to be wondered that the Lawsoas can now and again make a dash into some expensive expedition, but they have always an eye to the main chance. Hood's Sarsaparilla has eured thousands of cases of rheumatism. This is abundant reason for belief that it will cure you. Try it

THROUGH THE ISTHMUS. The Nicaragua Route Loobed Upon with Favor Three Hundred Years Ago. Philadelphia Times. From the earliest days of the Spanish conquest in America tho route bv the way of the San Juan river and Lake Nicaragua has been looked upon with tavorbv many canal projectors. As early as 1567 Phillip II sent Antonelli to explore the route. In 1779 and 1780 it was secretly surveyed by Colonels Hodgson and Lee, of the English army, and during the latter year Nelson tried, without success, to seize and hold it. It was also included as one of Humboldt's nine routes. In 18110 a company was formed in Holland to build the canal, which, however, never succeeded in doing any work. The first complete survey of a route clear across the State of Nicaragua was made in 1837, under the auspices of the federal government of Central America, by Lieutenant John Baily, an officer of the British Royal Marines, who had resided for thirty years in Nicaragua. The overthrow of the existing government soon after frustrated all plans for building growing out of Bailv’s survey, and the project remained* in comparative abeyance until 1844, when a proposition was made to Louis Napoloou, then a political prisoner in the fortress of Ham. to undertake the work, which he readily consented to do. provided he cou/d be released from prison. In IMG the State of Nicaragua granted a charter to the “Canal Napoleon do Nicaragua” and Napoleon, escaping soon afterward, published in London a pampelet entitled “Canal de Nicaragua,” containing an appeal to capitalists in behalf of the projected enterprise. A large amount of money was pledged to this undertaking when the revolution of 1848 recalled Napoleon to France, where he engaged in building an empire, instead of a canal. The next movement relative to the Nicaraguan project was the seizure, in 1848, of the port of San Juan de Nicaragua, or Greytown, by the English, which resulted in the now famous ClaytonBulwer treaty between England and the United States. In the meantime, private parties had not given up the idea of the advantages to be gained by the construction of this w T ater-way. A company was organized in New York in 1849 called the American Atlantic and Pacific Shipcanal Company. O. W. Childs, a Philadelphia engineer, was employed by the company to make a careful survey of the’route, which he did in 1850. This survey was. at the request of the company, referred by Mr. Conrad, then Secretary of War, to Colonel J. J. Albert and Major W. Turnbull, of the United States Typographical Engineers, who pronounced the plan the most practicable of any which had yet been proposed. The succeeding political complications, which culminated in the war of the rebellion, put an end to all attempts on the part of American citizens to construct this great water-way. Between 1870 and 1873 the canal projects were revived,and surveys of all three of the favorite routes were made, under the supervision of the United States government, that of the Nicaragura route being made by Commander E. P. Lull. Mr. A. G. Menocal, who was one of the Lull surveying party, obtained soon after some concessions from the Nicaraguan government, in return for which he and his associates were to build the canal!. The treaty which lias just been made between the Nicaraguan government and the United States, transfers ther-e privileges, along with additional ones, to the United States, which undertakes to build the canal as rapidly as possible. The proposed new route will comprise a trifie over fifty miles of canal, together with river and lake navigation of 119 miles. ’There will be eleven locks, six on the Pacific and five on the Atlantic side. It is claimed that the trip of ordinary sailing vessels from New York to San Francisco will be shortened seventy-five days, to Hong Kong twenty-seven days, to Shanghai thirty-four days and to Callao fifty-two days by this route. From New York to San Francisco this route, it is claimed, will be ten days shorter than the Panama route. There is little doubt that there are less engineering difficulties to be overcome by this route than any other proposed, and that it can be constructed with the least outlay of money. The chief drawback lies iu the necessity of locks, which necessarily limits the traffic that cau be -carried on through its agency. As early as 1774 the route By tho Tehuantepec isthmus was surveyed by Cramer. Prior to this period, in 1745, leading citizens of Oaxaca had agitated the subject. In 1814 the Spanish Cortes passed a decree for tho opening of a canal at this point, in the hope of allaying the revolutionary spirit of the Mexicans by this means. Or begozo explored the route again ten years later, in 1834. A survey was made by Garoy in 1842, after which Tehuantepec canal schemes seem to have slept till 1872, when anew survey was made by Captain Shufeldt, under the auspices of the United States Government. This route is about 120 miles in length, crosses an elevation of GBO feet, which will require a good many locks to overcome. The water facilities, however, are claimed to be ample. This is the most northerly of all the routes proposed, and is easiest of access from New’ York and other United States ports. The distance to New Orleans from Hong Kong is 9,900 miles less than by way of Cape Horn, and 1,218 miles less than by the Panama route. From New York to Hong Kong the distance by this route is 8.245 miles less than by Cape Horn and 1.518 miles less than by Panama, For the present this canal scheme appears to be lying in abeyance, awaiting the fate of Captain Eads’s ship rail way project, which lie is urging ou the attention of Congress. THE LAW OF FINDING. Circumstances Under Which the Article Belongs to the Finder. The law of finding, says a writer, is this: The finder has a clear title against the world, except the owner. The proprietor of a coach, or a railroad car, or of a shop has no right to demand tho property or premises. !Such proprietors may make regulations in regard to lost property, which will bind their employes, but they cannot bind the public. Tbe law of finding was declared by the King’s bench 100 years ago, in a case in which the facts were these: A person found a wallet containing a sum of money on a shop floor. He handed the wallet and contents to the shop keeper to be returned to the owner. After three years, during which the owner did not call for his property, the finder demanded the wallet and the money from the shop-keeper. The latter refused to deliver them upon the ground that they were found on his premises. The former then sued the shop-keeper, aud it was held ns above set forth, that, ’ against all the world but the owner, tTTfi title of the finder is perfect. And the finder has been held to stand in tbe place of the owner, so that he was permitted to prevail in an action against apex-son who found an article which the plaintiff had originally found, but subsequently lost. The police have no special rights in regard toarticles lost unless those rights are conferred by statute. Receivers of articles found are trustees for the owner or finder. They have no power in the absence of special statute to keep an article against the finder, any more than a finder has to retain an article against the owner. Lawrence Barret Taken for a Walter. Correspondence Albany Journal. Being in town for an evening, he, by previous invitation of Judge Daly, a convival sitter on our Supreme Court bench, put his foot under a Delmonico’s table along with George William Curtis, Charles A. Dana, Samuel J. Randall and Mayor Edson. They had a private room, but the apartment had rather a public door, since it opened off a hallway leading to the hall room, where some Fifth avenue people were that night doing some exceedingly fashionable dancing. The-mentioned men were in swallow tail coats, of course, and in that respect were like Delmonico waiters: but the servants, in order to be readily distinguishable from the guests of the establishment, are compelled by a stringent rule to go without mustaches. If yon will recall how rarely a man nowadays bares his upper lip you will understand that the Delraonico regulation is about as effective as putting a big label on tho menials. But actors, too, need have completely shaven faces; and I abate none of my respect for Barrett in declaring that, owing to hi3 immobility of both face and figure, he looked the ideal waiter as he stood just within the open doorway, with several of his friends, waiting for the rest. Goers to the hall were passing in a throng. A resplendent belle rushed at him, and, in a halfmandatory, half patronizing tone, said: “O, waiter, run right aown to mv carriage, will you, and bring my wrapt” It is not lawful to kill a pretty girl for making a blunder, and it would be unfair to accnse Barrett of desiring to' do it; but when the fair creature’s escort, perceiving the supposed waiter’s unwillingness, clapped a silver quarter into his hand, there was no reason for withholding re<

sentnient “Sir r-r!” andjthe actortadded a half inch to his height, by drawing himself op, and something to his girth by inflating his breast, “what do yon tak-ah me for-r-r T Please to let the spelling express the most tragic possible sort of enunciation, pitched in deep bass, and accompanied by an appropriate facial distortion. Tb beau and the belle humbly craved pardon, but couldn't tell whether they got it, so hastily did they retire. A CRAZE FOR CALENDARS. Thousands of Beautiful Designs, Expensively Printed, Distributed by Corporations. Philadelphia Press. “No more calendars given out,” or some legend to that effect, can be seen prominently displayed in the offices of niarv insurance companies. The practice of distributing ealandars and almanacs as adveitising mediums is at the height of its popularity. Nearly all those intended for us during the present year have by this time been scattered broadcast throughout the laud and are now upon the walls of offices. The notice that “no more calendars will be given out” serves as a warning to waste-paper merchants whose myrmidons feed during the first week of the year op those who issue the almanacs. Asa rule, a customer of a corporation whoso appearance ia in his favor, on applying inside, finds that a clerk is able to fish out a calendar from somewhere, in spite of the notice. The calendars, on accouut of competition, art getting more beautful every year. The insur ance companies realize that when a businesi man receives twelve of them he can only utilize a certain portion, say half, and, of course, the prettiest ones are selected. The idea on whieb the calendars are based is, of course, to familiarize people with the name of the company giving them. It is not expected a man will patronize a corporation merely because it gives him a calendar. Experience shows, though, that people, through seeing the name of an insurance .concern day after day, will, when its name crops up in conversation elsewhere, manifest a good deal of confidence in it. They know that the name is a household word to them, and, although they hardly remember how it becaroo so, they retain the impression that the company mentioned is an excellent one to trade with. The Philadelphia company that has the reputation of issuing the largest number of calendars this year sent out 175,000, at a cost of S6O per 1000. These went all over North America. About 500 of their agents received consignments of calendars, with their names and that of their town and city specially printed on them. Half a dozen other companies ordered as many as 50,000 and 75,000 each. The cost of the calendars generally used by insurance companies is from S4O to S2OO per 1000. Os the latter class there are specimens that are real works of art, and they, of course, are not distributed indiscriminately, as are the cheaper ones. The dear-, est kind of sheet calendars, all other things being equal, are those to which are affixed tablets for each day in the year. It takes considerable trouble to prepare them. The companies are also annually taxed at this season to supply the demand of their agents for blotters. In addition to the advertisements of the corporations, these also have on them calendars in miniature. Flalf a million little blotters is not a very large record for concerns having sub-offices all over the country’. In some of the towns where agents of Philadelphia companies are, located lawyers, editors and business men generally depend largely upon- the agents for this department of stationery. In very small towns the agents, although they may give away .more cash in the shape of blotters than they receive in the way of business, daren’t object. In some villages in Colorado, Kansas and New Mexico, where sand is sprinkled over paper to dry the ink. it is said the natives would not know what blotting-paper was were it not for the insurance agents. ANCIENT PHARMACOPOEIA. It Did Not Contain Epsom Salts, Castor Oil and Other Modern Luxuries. New York Medical Press. Professor H. Kern, of the University of Leyden, the distinguished author of many works on Oriental subjects, has lately published a history of Buddhism in India. Os this a translation into German has been published at Leipsic, from which we extract the following concise but complete account of the medical science in India about 2,000 years ago, as gathered from the set of Buddhist works called the “Mahavagga:” “In sickness the religious orders might take butter, clarified butter, honey and sugar, but only ata medicine. The Lord Buddha also permitted the medicinal use of five fat substances, namely, bear’s grease, fish oil, guinea-pig fat, pork suet and asses’ fat; also of different roots which take a very importan t place in the Hindoo pharmacopoeia, such as ginger, turmeric, calamus and andropogen. The preparation and use of infused herbs or teas, the use of curative leaves, fruits and resins, of salt powder, eye salve, even of raw flesh and blood, the employment as remedies of snuffs and pipes for inhaling the smoke, —all these things were allowed by Buddha. The medical system even included* the following cures: Salves for rubbing in, three kinds of cupping glasses, many sorts of vapor baths, blood letting, the use of lancets for cutting out sores, corrosive fluids, gargles, bandages, means for cleaning wounds, corrosive alkalies, purgative, clysters, etc. This catalogue is sufficient to give one some idea of the state of Indian medicine at the time in which the canonical writings (the Mahavagga) from which the details are taken were composed.” In another passage Dr. Kern mentions that the ancient .Hindoos smoked Various sorts of herbs in pipes and cigars as wo do tobacco, and that pipes are inscribed in the mo£i undent Indian works on the art of medicine The French In a Bud Way. Colonel O. W, Wool ley Paris Letter. Tho alleged beauty of the Parisian woman is a “d —and barren ideality. ” She dresses well, has small feet and hands, high cheek bones aud “lantern jaws,” but cannot-compare within the realm of beauty with her sex in Cincinnati or New York, nor even with the pretty Quaker girls of Philadelphia. Paris itself is tho handsomest eity in the world, but with an exterior that (like the froth upon the liquid of intoxication) covers all of the vices of sin. It makes commerce of woman, desecrates churches, scouts the Sabbath, derides the good, elevates the bad, and in its degradation pays the penalty of the curse which God puts upon all who deny Him. With 700,000 dethioned women and 1,000,000 of had men within its walls, how can it be other than it is? And if you find among the latter, as is the case, 200,000 Socialists, 300,000 hungry mouths, and a government sustained only by force, and corrupt in all its branches, the situation becomes more plain. Its cooks have degenerated, its hotels have become either brothels or dens of extortion, and the people m their entirety an aggregation of liars. Their surplus earnings are being expended, and, as the expenditure of the last franc approaches, debauehment becomes more and more the idol of their worship. The Latin race is doomed, but the first to be hurled into the Mediterranean will he tho French. ■■. —■■ 1 ■ * ♦ A Mncli-Marrietl Seer. Charleston Courier. There resides near here an aged colored man named Janies Limehouse, who deserves brief notice in this correspondence. According to his own statement be possesses the faculty of discerning invisible objects, and many tales are told by the negroes of his meeting and conversation with departed spirits. But there is another peculiarity about Limehouse. Fie has a most remarkable propensity for married life. He has just been married, for the eighth time, to a buxom young widow, and although he is about eighty years old, he may jtossibly outlive his present wife, and marry again towards the close of the present century. Foreign Ignorance Concerning America. New York Commercial Advertiser. Two communications were received yesterday by post at this office which, by reason of the coincidence as well as because of tbe singularity of their being sent at all, are worthy of note. One, from England, was addressed to William Cullen Bryant; tho other, from France, to Thurlow Weed. It is certainly surprising that the termination of lives which had been prominent before the public for more than half a century should have thus been unknown to two persons in Europe, and their ignorance simultaneously displayed, especially when both are interested in politics Afcd literary affairs. Poisoned Oheess Cleans out all rats, mice, roaches, water bugs, bed-baas, ants, vermin. 15c. Druggist*. Brown, ing A Sloan, agents.

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