Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1875 — Page 1

HORACE E. JAMES Sc JOSHUA HEALEY, Proprietors.

VOL. VIII.

itHEN BABY DIED. BY COL. L. 0. STRONG* The day the Baby died the flowers Drooped o’er the leaf, And birds within the shady bowers Piped plaintively their grief, And through the garden in the sun It seemed as if the day were done When Baby died! As if o’er all the land a sudden blight Had withered flower and leaf In one short breath,' . ' Unto a mother’s heart day turned to night, As life to death; While to her now come back with sudden The winsome face, the tossing curls aglow, The little feet that pattered to and fro, The angel wisdom of three happy years, All ending with such suddenness of woe When Baby died! From out the drawer she takes with trembling care The little shoes that Baby used to wear; Ah! but the silence of the missing feet, The tearful visiqp of the face so sweet— Baby’s dead! Put in its place away the curl of hair— Nay, she will press it to her lips again, And, dreaming of the years that might have been, The mother folds her hands in speechless prayer— ’ Baby’s dead! Why, Baby was the playmate of the birds; They missed him ere the second day was gone, And twittered round the perch with pleading words, But silent was his voice upon the lawn! The hoop lay where he left it by the wall, The Bwing was motionless, and over all Such silence seemed to reign That from the lonely room the sob of pain Was echoed in sad hearts, although they knew Their little friend the shining gates passed through ————When Baby diedi__ His gypsy dog no more will bear the rein, Nor draw about his tiny cart again. The hands are crossed, the little soul is free, And Baby lies beneath the churchyard tree. No more against his mother’s face he’ll press His dainty cheek, with many a coy caress; No more he’ll clasp his little hands and pray, In words she taught his rosy lips to say; Nor will he blithely talk Of things so wise beyond his baby years. Put in their place the playthings that he left. About the house each dear remembered walk Brings to a mother’s eyes the blinding tears, Since her fond heart was of its joy bereft When Baby died. So leave the chamber to its silent gloom, And put aside the little cradle-bed And draw the curtains. Close the sacred " room ; ” ’Tis filled with mournful memories of the dead. For e’en the pictures hanging on the wall Some thoughts recall That start the tears unbidden: and the vine That clusters round the windows still will keep Its flower nodding in the shade andr' ine. To greet him when he wakens '--m his sleep. Baby’s dead! And all in vain crushed hearts must reason why Their loved ones in their bloom and beauty die. Life holds but love alone sufficient worth To bind our weary feet unto the earth, And hearts are breaking for the love they lost When some dear soul the shadowy river crossed. — N. T. Independent.

BIBBS: A LOVE STORY.

There was no doubt about it; John Weare was perfectly wretched that night. He had quarreled with Jennie Bell and he wasn’t going to make it up. The fact was she gave herself too many airs, and he didn’t mean to stand it any longer. He didn’t care if she was pretty; that was no reason why she should let half a dozen fellow's at a time hang about the shop or stroll in one at a time and, leaning on their elbows, chatter and smirk and smile over the counter, cadets and officers, too, wild young fellows, who only did so for their own Idle amusement, and would no more dream of marrying her than they w'ould of inviting her to the ball that was coining* 1 off next month. To be sure, he was only a common cavalry soldier, but then he had been in the service a good many years now r , had an excellent character, and a good trade at his back, and, moreover, his father had died not long since, and there was the cottage all ready for Jennie to walk into, and they might settle down at once if she’d only be sensible. Jennie acted as shop-woman for her sister, Mrs. Evans. A very noor little shop it was, very small and badly stocked, for Mrs. Evans had only managed to get a few pounds’ worth of things with what had been subscribed for her in the garrison after the fever had carried off her husband. The speculation answ ? ered pretty well at first, for many of the officers’ wives, knowing what an industrious woman Mrs. Evans was, made a point of buying their tapes and cottons and sticks of sealingwax of her. Then Jennie’s pretty face was seen behind the counter, and the shop was filled from morning to night with officers and frisky young cadets, and the original customers took flight—though Mrs. Evans did not know it, for she, believing the business was safe in the keeping of Jennie, worked hard at the dressmaking (she had three children to support, and the shop alone would Hot do it). The officers were not profitable customers, for they only went to flirt with Jennie under the excuse of buying a penny Saper, or perhaps asking for a time-table. ennie made the most trim and pretty Sand obliging of shop-women, and the place itself was always a pattern of neatness ; but the officers’ wives did not care to go and buy their thread where they were evidently interrupting a flirtation, and so the business continued to fall off, and Mrs. Evans began to get quite unhappy about it. Jennie—pretty, kind-hearted, thoughtless Jennie—had no idea that she had anything to do with it, or she would have sent every one of her admirers off at a pace that would have astonished them. She had been only too delighted, after her brother-in-law died, to come from Devonshire and live with, her sister at Wool-

THE RENSSELAER UNION.

wich —not only because she was very fond of her sister, but also because she had wished many times to see John again. She had made his acquaintance when her brother and he—for they had been in the same regiment—were stationed at Plymouth, and she had made them a flying visit with her father. John had told her then that he was tired of the service and wanted to settle down, and she inwardly thought that he could do no better than ask her to settle with him. He had been very attentive when she came to Woolwich, and gradually established himself on the footing of a lover till he found the shop always filled with officers and cadets. At first he was shy of appearing before his superiors, then he got jealous and at last angry, for he felt and knew that they meant her no good, and besides it was doing real injury to the business ot the shop. At last he spoke his mind and told the coquettish Jennie what he thought, and was snubbed for his pains. If you think I don’t know how to take care of myself, Mr. Weare, you are much mistaken, and I don’t want anyone to tell me what’s right or wrong. I know for myself.” “ Well, Miss Jennie, I didn’t mean to give offense. I only told you what I thought.” “Then you might have kept your thoughts to yourself,” she said with a little toss of her pretty head—“ unless they had been nice ones,” she added. He heard the aside, and picked up his courage. “ It’s awfully hard, too, when one that cares for you really can’t get near you,” he pleaded. Just then Jennie caught sight of Capt. McGee, a tall and handsome man, with long whiskers and a red nose, coming in the direction of the shop, with a big bunch of flowers in his hand. She had heard John Weare’s last words, but she was sefcrefly of opinion that “ he' ought to have come up to the scratch before,” so she thought a little jealousy might da him good. “Oh! here comes Capt. McGee,” she said .in a delighted tone. “ Well, he’s just the biggest blackleg in the service, Jennie, and if you take my advise yoU’H send him off sharp.” “I believe you are jealous, Mr? Weare, and telling stories about the Captain; he is always very polite to me,” and she smoothed her pretty hair and arranged the trifles on the counter. “ Oh, lie’s polite enough, no doubt.” " “ And he’s bringing me some flowers.” “JNow, look here, Jennie, are you going to take them ?” “ Of course I am.”

“ Well, then, good-by.*V “ Good-by,” she laughed. Of course she knew he wouldn’t go. “Jennie, he’ll be in directly and I shall be off, but you must choose between him and me. IF you are going to keep on talking to him I shall never come in the place again—so which is it to be?” “The Captain.” “ But lam not joking. I’ll never see you again.” “ No more am I joking, so good-by.” . “ Good-by"—and he went. 4* n. He kept resolutely away for a whole month—never once went near the place. If Jennie wanted him she might send for him or- get her sister to invite him to tea as she had done before. But John Weare was not sent for, neither was' he invited to tea, and his spirits began to wax low. “If she’d cared about me she’d have got in my way somehow' before this—trust a woman,” he thought. The idea of not being cared for was not cheerful. That night he strolled 'dtirelessly by the shop but on the opposite side of the way. Nothing was to be seen of Jennie. He walked on in a brown study, then crossed over and went deliberately by the shop, with only one eye, however, turned in its direction, but not a sign of Jennie. He w T ent back to the barracks in a dejected frame of mind.

“It’s an awful pity—such a nice girl; and there’s the cottage all ready for her to step into and me ready to retire from the service and a good trade at my back; it’s too bad, all along of that Capt. McGee, too. And the fruit in the garden (of the cottage) all ripe and no one to pick it.” The very next morning John Weare walked deliberately into the shop and asked for a penny newspaper, and had the felicity of being served by Mrs. Evans. “ Quite a stranger, Mr!’ Weare,” she said; but that was the only remark she made, and for the life of him he could not screw up his eburage to ask for her sister. That night John Weare was miserable. “She can't care a rush for me,” he thought,, and marched all over the tow r n, and nearly to Greenwich and back, in his excitement. The next day was a lucky one for John. He came across Bibbs. Bibbs was Mrs. Evans’ eldest boy. No one knew what his real name w r as, or why he was called Bibbs; but he was never called anything else. “ Bibbs,” said John Weare, “ come and have some fruit,” and he carried him off in triumph to the cottage, and stuffed him with gooseberries till he couldn’t move, and with black currants till his mouth was as black as a crow. Then he carried him inside and stood him on the table, and sat down before him. “How old are you, Bibbs?” He thought it bettef to begin the conversation with a question. “Five and a half. Is that your sword up there ?” “Yes. Who gave you those bronze shoes, Bibbs?” Now he knew Jennie had given them to him, but he wanted to hear her name. “Auntie. She’s going away soon,” he added. “ Let me look at your sword now.” “Where’s shading to?” he asked in consternation. .“Devonshire. Do let me try on your sword.” * “ Why is she going?” he asked, with a sick feeling at his hearty She’s ill, I think; and she’s always crying now; one day she was crying over her silver thing you gave her, and kissing it like anything.” Thp “silver thing” was a little heart of about the size of a shilling, which he had bought at Charlton Fair last October and timidly requested her to accept. John Weare jumped up and showed

RENSSELAER, JASPER COUNTY, INDIANA, OCTOBER 28, 1875.

Bibbs his sword, and carried him on his back all over the place and entreated him to have more black currants in his delight. But Bibbs declined. “ Aunt Jennie’s going to bring me some from Eltham to-night,” lie said. So Jennie was gbing to Eltliam, was she? John Weare took Bibbs home, and on his way presented him with a white woolly lamb that moved on wheels aud‘ squeaked, and a monkey that went up a stick on being gently pushed. “Cryingover her silver thing!” said J ohn Weare. “I’ll go and hang about the Eltham road till I see her and beg her pardon.” ,

And he went and Jennie met him and pouted and declared she hadn’t once thought of him, and then broke down and crie.a. And John begged her pardon, and declared that he had been a heartless brute; and then Jennie contradicted him and said it was all her fault, and told him how Mrs. Dunlop, the Colonel’s wife, had one day walked in and told her in the kindest possible manner that she was spoiling her sister’s business, for the ladies who had been interested in her welfare kept away because of Jennie’s flirting propensities, which filled up the shop with idle officers, who were always in the way; and how she had been so ashamed and wretched, and so cut up at the desertion of John Weare, that she had determined to go back to Devonshire. “ But you won’t now?” he said, as they leaned over the stile leading to the Eltham fields. “You’ll get ready at once, and we’ll be married as soon as possible, before the fruit in the garden is spoilt?” It took a long time to talk her into it (about three-quarters of an hour), but then she was very happy at heart, and chattered like a young magpie, and told John how she had snubbed Capt. McGee, and had thrown all his flowers out of the window. “ And it really was all through that dear Bibbs that you waylaid me to-night ?” she asked; “ Certainly.” “ Why, but for him I might never have seen you again!” “ Perhaps not.” “ I’ll give Bibbs a regular hug when I get home,” she thought. And she did; and the day before she was married she bought him a rocking-horse, which he delights in to this day.— Cassell's Family Magazine.

Ever Been There?

You have never really seen a picture of despair, and utter misery, and sore distress and amazement, unless you have seen a man, standing in the presence of the wife of his bosom, and of the other members of his family, and reaching info his pocket to hand her a letter that he had got out of the Postoffice for her, bring out of the recesses of that inside pocket a crumpled, rumpled, creased envelope, once white, but now looking as though it had associated with cigars for many a long day, the very identical letter which she had written to her mother or some dear, dear friend six weeks ago and given her perfidious husband to mail. The very letter that he had sworn a thousand times he had mailed, and even related a little joke that Postmaster Sunderland got off about it, in or„der to prove that he had handed it to the Government in person. And there it is in the unhappy husband’s guilty hand, and liis wife’s eyes start from their spheres as she gazes upon the well-remembered, although cigar-stained, address. She does not scold; not she, the angel. She does not swear, as her husband would do in hes case, and as he does in his own mentally. She does not get up and kick over the piano stool and drown the trembling caitiff in a torrent of talk. She only looks at the letter and then at the man and says: “Well!” And that man would rather be swore at for a straight month than have that “well” dropped on him. It crushes him like a pile-driver. There are probably about 4,000 ways of saying well, but only a woman can say it with the accent which belongs .ta it under these circumstances. And the wretched man starts to say about 150 things and dbesn’t finish one of them. He feels that he has given hiniself away, to be sure. He would like the ground to open and swallow him up, but the ground appears to enjoy the play too well to spoil it by taking away one of the stars. No living man knows how the tableau ends, because no living man has the nerve to go through such a scene and keep his senses sufficiently about him to recollect anything about it after that “well!” is shot athim. But it is a matter of record that the man mopes about and cuts a cord of kindling wood, and fixes that kitchen shutter, and carries in all the house-plants and counts them to see how many brackets will be needed ■in that bay-window, and he puts up the hanging-baskets aud fastens the loose shelf in the pantry, and sets the mouse-trap, and carries m stove-wood enough to last a month, and tries to talk gossip, and says he’ll have Daubs come around in the morning and grain the front door, and he tries to be as good as he knows how, and finally, declaring that he is not sleepy, he sits up until alter one o’clock, and dreads going to bed worse than the late Mr. Rogers dreaded going to the stake, and when he does go, in tear and trembling, he finds his deceived wife’s eyes open so wide and tight that you couldn’t shut them with a monkey-wrench. And here we drop the veil over the dreadful scene.— Burlington Hawk-Eye.

—A Boston man, somewhat accustomed to missionary labor, recently called on an aged woman who was oil her death-bed, and, after speaking in suitable terms, was surprised by the rejoinder: “ I heard that you w'ere at the door and wanted to see you a moment. lam too weak to talk or to listen. I cannot ask you to pray with me, but can vou tell me if the pany is going to pay any dividend this year?” The interview was not prolonged. —Springfield (Mass.) Republican. | —Dr. Cressy, of Amherst, Mass., has returned from a professional visit to the epizootic region in Connecticut, where the disease is more-violent than in this State.. The doctor recommends careful treatment an/ a general regard to the hygiene of tine horse rather than violent dosing.— Springfield (Mass.) Republican .

Oriental Justice.

Some years since, yhen Prince Murat and his family, were traveling in the Orient, he was taken sick, and on the Way from Stamboul to Jaffa became so ill that he considered it prudenj to discontinue the journey for a few days and remain over at the latter place; his wife, and daughter, however, continued their travels until they reached Jerusalem. The Pasha had been informed of the contemplated visit some weeks previous, and in honor of such distinguished visitors had ordered the principal streets to be newly paved and the road between the Holy City and Jaffa to be put in order, and made tolerably passable.

It was a time of terror for the fellahs (peasants), for all these improvements were not to be accomplished at the expense of Pasha or Government. The soldiers and prisoners were set to work, and where their labor proved insufficient a rope was stretched across the streets and roadway extending to the city gate and every fellah coming in or going out was arrested with his camels or donkeys and forced to work, receiving his reward on his back in the shape of a beating, and having one piaster placed to his credit, to be paid in some dim future day. Merchants were ordered to partake of the general glorification by painting their shop-doors and windows green. His Highness Prince Murat might come now as soon as he pleased. Alas! Fate with her unfathomable ways and tricks plays with Turks just as she does with other mortals. The IMnce remained in Jaffa, and the whole Mohammedan world was not a little chagrined to find that all this “ fuss” and labor had been expended for nothing but a woman. With flambeaus and Turkish music the Princess was escorted over the newlypaved streets to the residence of the French Consul. Of course the Pasha heard how charmed the lady was with the beautiful streets and excellent roads. It was really dreadful, though, that this appreciative creature, and a Princess at that, should meet with a mishap in the very presence of the Pasha! The entrance, namely, leading to the holy sepulchre is narrow and low, and the stately Princess could not bend sufficiently (owing, probably, to some spinal defect; ’tis a royal inheritance, this stiffness in the back, although I’ve known some ordinary individuals to be afflicted the same way) to admit her without bringing her brow in contact with the rocky pediment: and this resulted with such force that the lady fell fainting to the ground. Such Oriental confusion as followed is indescribable.

The Pasha sent orders to the patriarchs of the church that the entrance should be torn down and a larger and more elegant portal built immediately to prevent any such distressing occurrence in future. This proved a very apple of discord among the ecclesiastics—the Catholic and Greek clergy. They could not decide which had the best right to rebuild, and thus claim the portal, or how great or small the expense attending it, and how much each, should contribute toward its erection. The cunning Greeks meanwhile were not idle. During the quarrel they had secretly ordered stones to be hewn, and in the night they took down the old and built the new portal. This created a terrible storm, that did not end in a simple quarrel of words; Catholic, Greek, Armenian, Kopte—all joined in the disturbance until arrested by the Turkish kawasses (soldiers) and brought before the Pasha. He was seated on his divan, ink and pen at his side, and listened, in silence, to this babel of races. “We have the best right to build the gate ;_we are the greatest in number and the wealthiest!” screamed the Greek mob.

“ Santa Madonna delorata!” shouted the Franciscans; “we have lived here for 600 years and more, and yet are to be prohibited from building this gate!” The Pasha smoked his narghiley quietly for some title, then he suddenly exclaimed to an officer: “Mustapha, go, take laborers, and tear the portal down; leave not one stone on its foundation!” Mustapha bowed and withdrew. The joy of the scholars w r as as wild as the rage of the Greeks, but the Pasha sternly bade them be silent. Mustapha returned. “ Thy will, O Pasha, has been done.” “ Where is the master-mason?” The master is brought before him. “ Mason, what is your demand for rebuilding this portal?!^— “Six hundred piasters, O Pasha!” “ Very well, begin your work!” The mason departs, and the Pasha turns to the Christians, saying: “ I am going to erect this portal myself, as you have seen, for I am just, and you shall pay me 600 piasters each. The business is ended.” Wise decree, the Pasha rebuilds with the material torn down, pockets 1,800 piasters from the various warring denominations, and makes peace.— Translated for the tit. Louis Republican.

A Remarkable Swim.

A correspondent of the London-Saturday Review calls the editor’s attention lb a feat of swimming performed just forty years ago—a feat more remarkable than any that the world has eter known up to the time of Capt. Webb’s remarkable natatory exploits. The paragraph, it appears, is abridged from Vol. 21 of the Saturday Magazine of the sth of November, 1842, which runs as follows: 'At about half-past six o’clock on the evening of the 6th of October, 1835, the yawl Increase, manned by nine men, including Brock, capsized in a terrible squall off - the Newark floating-light, at a distance of six miles from the nearest land; seven of the men went down with the boat, and Brock believed himself the only survivor. It was dead low water and the flood-tide would set off’ shore, so if ever he should reach the land he would first drift at least fifteen miles before the ebb would assist him. Still he determined to make the atnwfpt; and puffing his arm through a rush horse-collar (latelyused as a fender to the boat) which floated by, he rid himself by the aid of his knite of his petticoat ffousers, Striped frock, waistcoat and

neckcloth, but did not venture attempting to free himself of his oiled trousers, drawers or shirt, fearing his legs would become entangled, nor of his boots. The horse-collar retarded his swimming, so he left it, and as he swam on to his surprise perceived one of his companions ahead of him. He, too, sank, and Brock waß left alone upon the waters. Winterton light served to direct his cotune, but, the tide eventually carrying hirnbut of sight of it, he made for a bright star in the same position, and with ms eyes steadily fixed upon it continued swimming and calculating when the tide would turn.

The sky became overcast, and a storm of thunder with forked lightning followed. This passed, and was succeeded by a calm. His heavy, laced boots encumbered him greatly, and he succeeded in freeing himself from them. The Lowestoft light came in sight, and occasionally the topß of the cliff beyond Gorlestone on the Suffolk coast were visible. Driven by the swell of the sea over Cross Sand Bridge, the checkered buoy of St. Nicholas Gaft told him he was distant from the land four miles and opposite his own door. The tide did not run strong, and fearing to stay by the buoy, even for a few moments, lest his limbs might not again resume their office, he set off for the shore. Just then he was startled by a whizzing sound followed by a splash in the water close to his eay : ; it was a large gray gull, which mistook him for a corpse, and made a dash at him. The whole ‘ flock came up,

but he frightened them away. Afterward he caught sight of a vessel at anchor a great way off, and to get within hail he must swim over Corton Sands, where, owing to the breakers meeting him, he swallowed a good deal of salt water, but before utter exhaustion some change fortunately occured in, he direction of the swell, and he was driven over the sands into smooth water, and he felthis strength revive so that he could swim to the shore. If, however, he were to attempt this and succeed, there was no certainty of getting out of the surf, or that he could walk, climb the cliffs, or get to a house. If he could not do all this the cold wind would kill him, so he made for the vessel, though it was more difficult than to swim on shore. The nearest approach he could make to the vessel was about 300 yards, and as he was drifting by he mustered all his strength and cried out. His cry was heard, a boat was lowered, and he was taken on board fourteen miles from the spot where the yawl capsized, after he had been seven hours and a half in the water. Once safe he fainted, and for some time continued insensible. Though treated with the utmost kindness Sis sufferings were intense. His throat was in high inflammation and much swollen; round his neck and chest he was perfectly flayed, and the soles of his feet, his hands and his ham-strings were equally excoriated. But in five days he had so far recovered as to walk into Yarmouth to receive the congratulations of his friends and kindred.

The Natives of Alaska.

A San Francisco correspondent of the Cincinnati Enquirer, who has been to Alaska, writes concerning the natives of that territory: If they were suddenly transported to Kentucky and given their own sweet will they would drink all the whisky in the State. Can they eat? Why, that which would disgust an ostrich is their best suit. A sea-gull, with a hide tougher than a sole-leather trunk, is a delicacy. They have pictures of deer and of bears that once lived on the islands, but at this time one would waste the price of either in shoe-leather looking for them. The great reliance of the inhabitants of Kodiack is in the silver-gray foxes, and the salmon fisheries. The first are not in great numbers, but by diligent hunting the natives manage to secure enough skins to procure for them, by barter with the traders, almost all such commodities of life as are necessary for their existence. The great salmon fisheiy is at Carlook, on the west side of Kodiack. During the time of the Russian possession all the natives dressed in the skins of the seal and sea-lion. From the date oi American possession many of the natives have advanced in civilization very perceptibly. This advancement has been purely imitative, and it should be a matter of record. The people are a fun-loving race, and they have a remarkable resemblance to the Japaiiese. The guitar, accordion, violin and banjo are all familiar to them, and fine violinists are not by any means rare. They like coasting; they have a sort of “ blind-man’s buff,” and they play scientifically a game of cards, very similar to “ poker” as described by Minister Schenck. They play a Russianized chess, and they are always ready, shortly after pay-day, to pitch fifty-cent pieces at a hob or taw, the condition being that he who pitches his piece nearest to the designated object shall have all the money that is pitched. The women generally are models of virtue. The young people mature at about the same age that our young people do, and, as a rule, they are permitted to select their own life-partners. A law of the Greek Catholic Church, of which they are all communicants, prohibits marriage between relations the tie between whom is nearer thaii the seventh degree. The men are naturally jealous; they w'atcli their wives closely. Their parental affection is very strong. The children are invariably taught the Russian language. The Alaska Commercial Company first taught them the convenience and furnished them the means of modern Wearing apparel. This company has established numerous schools, and the young Aleuts now receive instruction from graduates of best colleges. I confess I cannot see what tempted the graduates to thus bury themselves alive, and, without a single exception, the}’ are all as blind in this respect as I am, and there I will leave them. The first English schools were established on the Seal Islands—t. «., St. George and St. Paul Islands—by the Alaska Commercial Company. About the same time the company introduced modem dress, and the inhabitance of the territory. The innovation spread rapidly, and now-, in point of dress, the Aleuts are as fashionable* as the ordinary white laborer in this country. At every settlement large enough to be notable there are schools. In Sitka a well-organized German school is supported by Bishop

SUBSCRIPTION; #9.00 a Year, la Advance.

Johannes, of the Greek Church. Sitka is ttie port of entry of the Territory, and three deputies do the revenue business of the Territory. The superior officer is stationed at Sitka, where he is assisted by one deputy. Kodiack and Oonatiuka have each a deputy collector. Upon each of the Seal Islands (St. George and St. Paul) there is an English school, and there is also one upon the island of Oonalaska. All these institutions are by the Alaska Commercial Company. There are four agents of the United States Treasury upon the Seal Islands—two on each island—and on an average two Congressional committees sail up there every year to investigate the work of the Federal representatives. The settled population of Kodiack, Oonalaska, Sitka and the islands of St. George and St. Paul will not exceed 3,500. The natives are nomadic; sometimes there are 5,000 people in Sitka, and at other times there are actsoo people there.

There are churches in all the settlements, and in the larger towns priests are located. The villages that have no priests are ministered to by the priests from the more populous settlements. A comprehensive system of itineracy protects the Aleuts from any want of spiritual comfort. Of all the people of the Territory, save those of the Seal Islands, the people of Sitka and Kodiack are the furthest advanced in civilization. They live in log huts, with thatched roofs, and in their domestic habits are very cleanly. On the Seal Islands the Aleuts have one and one-

and-a-half story cottages, built after the American pattern by the Alaska Company, whose agents compel their owners or occupants to keep them perfectly clean. In other places in the Territory the Aleuts live in mound-shaped houses' of turf. They prefer to locate on the side of a hill, and when a house of this kind is burrowed out it is one of the most uncomfortable places to pass a night imaginable. You enter through a hole in the bank extending from the surface three or four feet up into the face of the outer wall. Until a fellow has been into one of these tombs he has no idea of what darkness is. I did not try it, but I believe the atmosphere could be lifted out in chunks, and I will be responsible for the assertion that a hot sun would have to put in its best licks to get any light through it. Yet the owners of the graves live in them contentedly. They get light from oil taken from seals. A wick made from cotton, when they can get it, or grass, when they can do no better, is saturated in a pan of oil; one end of the wick is protruded over the side, and when lit it gives out a flame in which there is very little illumination and a great deal of smoke and offensive flavor. Lamps are rare. Usually these huts have but a single room, varying in size from ten to sixteen feet square. For fuel the hutmen are dependent upon drift-wood. Their beds are made of seal-skins. A few have blankets. Considered generally the Aleuts are little better than our native InIndians, and in some respects their customs are similar. For example, in each village there is a chief elected by a popular vote. There are instances where this office has been continued in one family for centuries, but it.is nevertheless not an hereditary office, because the Aleuts reserve to themselves the right to, at any time, elect a superior officer to preside over them. That these people can ever be made useful citizens of the general commonwealth is extremely doubtful.' While legitimate commercial enterprise is fostered and protected in the islands the natives will be self-supporting; otherwise they will become a burden upon the country.— _ ■ . - ' :

The annual report of the German Postofficefor 1874, the third year completed since the establishment of the Empire, is worth notice, not only for the growth of business shown since the whole duty passed under one administration, but the amount of accommodation afforded to the public by certain branches not represented with us. If an increase of the number of postoffice missives be, as is often asserted in our own case, a genuine test of national prosperity, then we may dismiss as idle all tales of the decay of German trade-and commerce, for in 1874 there were more than 962,000,000 letters and parcels sent through the post, as against 878,000,000 in 1873. In other words, the growth of correspondence in a single year, despite alleged>depression, was over 9 per cent. Simple letters account for more than 900,000,000, the other 60,000,000 being of course parcels, of which two-thirds were sent merely as such at a very low tariff, and about another third, being those of more valuable contents, passing at the higher rate which makes the postoffice responsible for their registered value. One purpose which the post specially serves in Germany is the transmission in this way of packages of notes, bullion and coin; and in Y 874 the amount paid on these was £737,000,000 sterling, representing no doubt the greater part of the circulation of money through the Empire beyond that passed from hand to hand. The carriage of persons and baggage on ordinary roads is, as all travelers in Germany are aWare, though. not wholly a Government monopoly, largely conducted by the Postoffice. And in 1874 370,000,000 pounds of personal luggage was so .transported, with very nearly 5,000,000 passengers. Railroads are steadily reducing these two items of the postoffice accounts; and that they are still so large can only be accounted for by the well-known fact that well-to-do burgher families spend in driving about favorite parts of the Fatherland , much of the spare time and cash which with us are devoted to the annual seaside holiday.—Pa# Mail Gazette. —The Liverpool Post is authority for the statement that Carlyle declines with scorn the degree recently conferred on him by Harvard University. He says that to he asked to “join in heading your long line of D.D.’s and LL.D.’a—aline of pompous little fellow-s hobbling down to posterity on the crutches of two or three letters of the alphabet, passing on into the oblivion of all universities and small potatoes”—is more than he can bear. —Donaldson, the lost aeronaut, had ar> ranged to lecture on aerial navigationthia .winter.

Work of the German Postoffice.

NO. 6.