Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, June 1, 1873, Page 7

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated June 1, 1873 Page 7
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LONDON. Reminiscences of John Stuart Mill; A Distinguished Group of Persons Who Om Frequented a Unitarian Chapel. Sunday Billiards and Week-Day Skit tles-—Beer in Politics—John ' ferigiit; From Our Oim Correspondent JOHN SXUAET mttt,. So largo a place'dld the United States hold in die esteem of Mr. Mill that his English friends were sometimes j ealous about it. „ Not more than a fortnight ago, in referring to the revelations respecting Mr. ;&c., he expressed the hope that public morality was higher in the West. Chicago excitcd his frequent surprise. He was not insensible to, £he deficiencies of the Bepublic. -.He spoke with, a smile of the eco nomic fallacies which obtain so considerable a ground there, and .he regretted what, seemed to him tendencies toward centralization of power. But unquestionably Mr. AHTI regarded the United States as the "groat country of the future, and the - hope salvation of. an ever-populated Europe. The papers deal freely with his public life, and their comments testify to his enormous influ ence. ‘Some persons imagine that* Mr/ Mill’s Parliamentary career was injurious to his fame; but thi« will not be said at a later day. ’ He was in advance.of his time,—that ia aIL Yet . his friends rejoiced when he decided to retire.from tho House. The late hours did not suit him, and there were scarcely a dozen men in the House with whom he had any sympathy* It was amusing to note thd look of curiosity on the faces of tho Country members as they turned round to stare at him when he first spoke on the subject of woman-suffrage. They were innocent Of Mill, and didn't know what to make of him or of his subject. A little later, they got to be proud of quoting him on their side. Mr. Mill's voice, though thlm was sharp and clear ; and, if his memory had -not some times played him false, he would have been an extremely effective speaker. As it was, I had learned to look to him, in the House of Com mons, with something of apprehension, for more than once I had seen him stop and feel for a phrase. He was frequently overcome hy sleep, and one of the funniest sights I have witnessed in Parliament was due to his fatigue; Mr. Bouverie was speaking, and, in the course of his argument, referred to something that had been ■ said* by Mr. MilL 4 4 Now,” continued he, 41 there is the honorable member for Westminster, one of the most distinguished members that have ever sat in this House; I appeal to him [and hero the speaker tamed in Hr. Mill's direction] whether——Oh!” and there he stopped. Mr. was sitting at the end of a bench, his head oh his breast;- in a de licious nap, and, as Mr. Bouverie spoke, uncon sciously nodded a reply. Tho House, laughed a good deal, but no one had the courage io touch Mr. Mill on the shoulder and wake him up. Despite his slight, spare figure, Mr. Mill was a capital walker, as some who have visited him at Avignon almost ruefully recollect. LordAmberly, I believe, was dead beat after one of Mr. Hill's good walks of some twenty miles, though the philosopher was ready for more. The dinners at Blackheath were looked -forward to by his intimate friends with an expecta tion which no other entertainment will create in them again. Who else con bring together that circle of thinkers, differing widely in all but a love of philosophical research? The world of serious and accomplished minds for the moment seems beggared by the death of this il lustrious man* A DTBTTVQTTIHTTCT OTtOTTP of persons conspicuous by their rank, or emi nent by their qualities, might hare been seen on Sunday mornings, not very many years ago, in a comfortable chapel, a little like a drawing-room, situated in one of the streets running down to the Thames from the Strand. -The Bov* Thomas Madge, the .Unitarian minister at Easer-S treat Chapel, certainly addressed such an audience as no' other Dissenting minister in country possessed. In a long line down the street were the carnages of the Earl of Lovelaeo, of Lady Byron, of the Earl of Zetland, of Mr. Justice Bylee, of Mr. Justice Crompton, and of -half-a-dozen members of Parlia ment. Lady Loyelace was regular in her* at tendance, though she became annoyed by the staring of strangers, who, having heard of her habit, came to the chapel in order that they might say they had seen Byron's only child. Death has broken the circle np. The white headed, old man, who was at “ Ada’s” bedside in her last illness, and who was often the medium of Lady Byron's never failing charity, is in his grave, and half his listeners have joined him. Lady Byron's troubles are over, and her daughter's ear was silent when Mrs. Stowe endeavored to sully with ineradicable stains the memory of one of the most brilliant of the men of genius Eng lish poetry can boost. Even the son, who eat occasionally in the old-fashioned pew, by bis mother's side, has ended his strange career; and, though he still lives, and is devoted as ever to philosophical pursuits, the Earl of Lovelace has, in a measure, retired from the public life ! which it is in his power to adorn. Lord Zetland and his eccentric Countess are dead; and the Bench has long been deprived by death of the services of Mr. Justice Crompton. Judge Byles is living, but he docs not sit npon the Bench. Earl Zetland, who died ~on Tuesday last, was a curious compound. He hwi a strong liking for theology of the Ohan ning type, and, when he beard' a sermon which pleased him, always persuaded the preacher (to thO' Beverend gentleman's sad pecuniary ex perience sometimes) to publish if. Bat the Earl, when out of theology, was the head of the Eng lish turf! fie was one of the most honorable men that overlived; and, while he :and the late Lord Derby were so active in sporting matters, everything was done to conduct horse-racing in an honorable way. "What Pree-Mason, again, is' ignorant of the name of the Grand Master who succeeded the Duke of Sussex, and who, for .twenty-six years,was in that distinguished office? He was active also in his support of numerous philanthropic institutions. He was not wanting certainly in moral courage, for there is scarcely a Peer who dares to do anything so vulgar as to attend a Dissenting chapeL Lord . Houghton is the descendant of a Unitarian family, and, be fore Mr. James Martinean resigned, was seen in Xiittle-Fortland-Streec Chapel occasionally; but Lord Belper, who was in the same position, cut the chapel when he was made a Peer (not before), and is now connecting himself with the Church by the marriages of his children with the off spring of Bishops. Nor is the example peculiar to Peers. Mr. motley; the great historian, was, & believe, a Unitarian at Boston ; but ho never went near them in London. • '“'6CSUZ EILLTAKDS AKD WEEK-DAY SKITTLES .. A CLUB DISPUTE. The proceedings of the clubs, as a rule, are Regarded as private, and the press rarely alludes to them; bat sometimes the practice is broken, then there's a fuss. The Eefonn Club is in * bother about a Sabbatarian question, and the pnblio have got to know of it. The biUiard*room. ?* the Club is situated nearly at the top of the; gjmense building, and is little used on any day. otA from the establishment of the. Club,—up-, wards of thirty years ago,—the room been wpea on the Snnday, though there is no atten “ere on that day of the marker. Asamat of foct } the room is deserted on the first day of me week, not half-a-dozen members having used, » daring the last twelve months. Perhaps there. twenty members who were aware, nrm7 day. that it wsa open. ppems Sir John Murray, a Scotch Presbyterian, ™ has chambers at the Club, and is therea SwcideaL happening one Sunday to the Hw?kSS ,^ 0( S °* room, heard the dick of muniS?# Sis'feelings will be imagined by His first step was to ap tSi'nL**? but the latter replied hai? iSff had no power to interfere, and Sir.John, of mA^er before the members This ™ approaching general meeting, other PreTionaly conferring with £^ : bcotch mombors, and with gentlemen iold the. Btrict view of Bnn- J Obeenanqa; and the result, has beau ! he ' Evangelical news- At a meeting of.the who ia was 1,001 Ebm 7> a Peer tad i° carnl bon of aristocratic feebleness, no has pamfiU associations of his own with Sunday questions,—a bill which he once introduced into the House of Commons on the subject having led to serious riots. It appears that Sir John Murray, who ' spoke in excellent temper, urged upon his brother-members the propriety of respecting the feelings of those who disapproved of Sunday billiards; He was supported by one or two members, and opposed by others, who retorted that Sir John need not go near the room, and that his feelings would not he disturbed if he ■ stayed ■ down stairs, and a; Roman. Catholic- member pro- against the assumption that Dill—, ■ard-playing on Sunday was wrong, Ac. \\ lien the : division was taken, about a dozen voted for Sir John Hurray’s proposal to close the room, and' more than 100 against it. The Record says he intends to leave the Club. Meanwhile, the public-house party, who are always oh the look-out, have caught up the case, and are arguing in this wise! The public-house Is not only thd poor man's club, but bis only cellar,—the only place he has to resort to if wants a drop of beer, a bit of goealp, or to eee the newspaper. Now see what our legislators,' and, indeed, the upper classes, have retained far their own gratifica tion or necessities.' They may go to their clubs any hour on the Lord's day, order, everything to eat" and • drink they need or fancy; they can,—and we suppose a great majority do,—if so inclined, play cards 'or billiards, tc. f just as it suits them. But what has this class ordained for the lower orders 7 The public-house, as I have said, is the -only cellar the poor man has. If he ia thirsty on Sunday morning, he may get at home tea, and perhaps mtik, If be requires more, his only other beverage, except at stated hours, is water which has boen.ConT«yed under ground cheek by jowl with the sewer, the gas-pipe, and id o&rth that ia laden with impurities! How is he allowed to amuse, himself at ‘ his dub?' Can ho'play at'skittles, cards,'or billiards?' No. These are the restrictions modem legislators are imposing on the lower classes, and they wonder, when the upper classes play cards and billiards on Sundays at their dubs, that the poor grumble because they may not even play skittles or bagatelle on a week-day. London, May 10,1873. , If Mr. Gladstone's Government is upset at the next election, it will be by - . BEEB AND THE CUTTBCH, ©specially beer. Itia of no use* for the chief members of the Ministry to vote and speak, as they did this week, against tho ‘/Permissive bUi;” the whole mass of Bepublicans df this country have it firmly in their heads that the Liberal chiefs aro ready to sacrifice them to the teetotalers. As the isolated elections in Prance all go to the advantage of the Bepublicans, so those in England continue to bo for the profit -of the Tories. This week. the Liberals have lost Bath and Gloucester, just as, a short -time . ago, they lost tho City of Bristol i- and, ih both., cases, the publicans turned the scale. The Liberal mem bers are .unfortunately placed, for most teeto talers are Liberals in politics, and, though they cannot seat a Liberal against the publicans, they can unseat him if a Conservative is in the field. The average Liberal M. P. detests them. They are new-comers in the political field ; this 44 Per missive bill” is an American notion; it -is an imitation of the Maine law: and is contrary to the favorite mottoes and . texts .of the Liberal party. But the men are fanatics. If he doesn't promise to vote for their moasnre, they, will ab stain from voting, or put up a man of their own. If he swallows the pill, let him . not expect a single vote from any publican, or from the nu merous class who frequent public bouses. Beer will carry the day. Boer is d better cry for the Tories than the one given them in 44 Coningsby,” 44 Our Young Queen and Our Old Constitution.” The Foreign Minister, the Colonial Minister, the Home: Minister, the Minister of War, all of them have reason to tremble at the sight of a glass of beer. Even ia beset by the serious classes, who wont to compel everybody to give up drinking beer; Ho has always been a good friend of the temperance cause, but he is opposed to giving over the right of prohibiting the beverages of a possible minority to a majority. Mr. Bright may, perhaps, be spared for past services, hut the water-drinkers call out, 44 No sur render I ” and they will play havoc with the elec tions.. Mr. Bright is a strong. supporter of the existing Administration. He says it is the most honest Government.England ever had. When the disestablishment motion, comes on, he will support it, however, despite the opposition of the Government. Mr. Bright looks picturesque .in his presentyears. His massive head, his fine white hair, and his features expressive of power and intellectual activity, never formed a bet ter picture! Borne great artist should secure him as he now is. Why not ask him io sit for a likeness for Ills American admirers ? The day will come when a painting of that kind would be valued in the States above price. The sun is shining from unclouded sky; the roses are blooming, and birds twittering in tho trees; the air is laden with sweets and happi ness; yet there is a horrible jarring creeping through it all, and, groping in the darkness, I vainly cry for light I Up in the chamber lies poor mother. She cannot speak; she cannot move; can only raise her heavy eyes to us, entreating, and fill the sweet eummer-air with her piteous moans. Every weary, dragging breath racks her tortured body. Her hands—those good old bands—are numbly clinched; the weary feet drawn up with suffering; the lips clammy; the face distorted; and, weeping, we cover our ©yes that we may not meet the horrible anguish in hers. Six hours-has she lain thus, and may linger twenty-four, the doctor says. A while ago, she writhed and struggled with the terrible demon, and her piercing 'shrieks filled the passers-by with horror, and silenced! the children at play. But now, her strength al gone, she can only lie, moaning and gasping, in the embrace of the monster feeding upon her body. Ohl God forgive me if I. do wrong to share with others the horror that is driving me mad I But what lam suffering, others must; and it is a cry for help I am sending here. A few days ago, Death seemed beautiful to me, —a sweet farewell to those who will stay, a tender parting of the soul from tho body, and a loving welcome in that beautiful Other World whose borders He so near ns. Bat to-day all is dirit,—thick,'terrible dark ness, that Tails that mysterious land with clouds Of pain and horror 1 ■ My mother 1 my mother! whoso high intel lect and beautiful soul would have met Death with outstretched arms, mnst lie with all thought absorbed in horrible suffering, and leave a gloomy sadness~npon onr hearts, that even the memory of her quiet, gentle life cannot efface. Oh! why mnst it be so ? ... Ont on the steps, in the sunshine, lay the old cat. She had been trne to the work her Maker gave her; but now the mice played enhanced near her, and a saucer.of .milk sat untouched be side her. Glassy were her eyes, and drawn with pain her limbs. . i “ She cannot live,” said the father, “ put her out of her misery, boys.” One'quick blow, and the poor, pain-racked body lay at rest*. , The horse broke his leg, and one “merci ful ” shot “ freed him from his suffering.” . The train ran over some cattle, and the next day’s paper spoke of the inhumanity that let the poor beasts “ linger in theiragony” Belong. and praised the man who atlast “ pat an end to their misery.” ■ ■ A beast, whose only existence is supposed to be hero,.is humanely killed when its'life can only beprotrsetedpain. Ahuman being, with the prom ise of heavenly life awaiting, must linger m in conceivable agony until Disease has done its work, and the.last throe of pain has been given. "What is disease ? It is no gift of God, —no dispensation of ■ God.' The superstitious idea riiat the_ Great, All-Loving Father tortures us, body and soul, to gratify His.“ will,” or .“fulfill IDs secret purposes,” is blisphemy. ‘ Disease is as earthly a foe as the lion that crushes the poor African,—as the fire that de vours him who comes within its roach,—as the water that drowns the soul from bim who en ters it. They are hero; man is hero. God does not send him within the lion’s grasp, nor thrust him -■qithin fire or water. t Neither is the unseen monster, Disease, sent to ns; but, by breaking certain bounds, we find ourselves in his clasp, arid, sighing, say, “It is God’s will, and ws mnst bear it.” Too late is human aid to the'feeble body above, and the Father is coming to the rescue. The pain-eaten casket is crumbling, and angels await the soul's release. She has kissed ub good-bye; she has said her last farewell; yet must we stand in wild agony, and witness the torture of her whom we love. Yes, hours ago the Doctor said she was dying: .and yet the clock ticks away its slow time, and she lingers. •. - ' Should it be ? Should it be ? This is my ques tion.—a question that must be answered. I have begged and I have, prayed the Doctor to . give* her, thaV which* her eyes are piteously beg * ging, and still ho shakos-his head. - . , ‘/It is right!/ It is.merciful !,”■ ■ “ Yes, hut I dare not.” . .. . 1 Oh, pitiful coward!'"you"see through world blindea eyes! And that which would close my mother’s eyes in sweet sleep, relax tho stiffened SHALL IT BE ? THE CHICAGO- DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JUNE J, 1873 muscles, bring smiling rest upon her poor face, and waft her soul through happy dreams into the Other "World, is withheld I ' Shall false prejudices ever bind us ? Shall Disease torture its victim to the last ? Shall we always watch in numb horror the death-agony of our loved ones ? - it is a vital question to us all, and must be answered; IX. H. THE DEVIL-FISH* Of Fictloii arid of Fact* Mr. Henry Lee, F. L. 8., conlparing the do ecription of the octopus by Victor Hugo in his TravaiQeurs de la Mcr, writes in Zand and Water: “ In his relation of the manner in which the octopus captures its. prey the novelist is substantially in accord with nature. The points on which ho chiefly errs are: 1, The structure, use,- capability, and effect on its victim ' of its arms and sucker's; 2; Its general organization. 8; Its mode of progression when swimming* 4* The manner in which it devours and digests ite food. The arms of the octopus are not used as weapons of constriction, compression, or suffocation. • They are eight radiating, supple, tapering thongs, in ordinary specimens about eighteen inches long, oh each of which are mounted, in a double row, numerous suck ing disks, which decrease in size toward the tip of the limbs, and act as so many dry cupping glasses/ There are normally about 240 of these suckers, on each ami, making a total of about 1,920. . I have counted more in sonie individuals. M. Hugo gives their number as “50 oh each arm, 400 in allso on this point he very much understates his case. The cups themselves,- by their internal mechanism for air-exhaustion, and consequent pressure of the outer atmosphere, adhere flrmly to any snbstanco to which they are applied, whether stone, fish, crustacean, or flesh of man; but in the octopus.they nave no power to puncture or lacerate the skin, or to 1 cause blood to flow. They are merely pneumatically prehohele organs, by: which the animal’s prey is caught and held; not by “harpooning,” as the novelist supposes, hut by their atmospheric adhesion to the surface of its body. In this genus the sucking disks are composed of a muscular membrane, the circum ference of which is thick and fleshy, and in some species cartilaginous, but. in all unarmed, And only adapted to secure close, air-tight con tact with any object It may touch. Wnen ex perimenting on the holding force of an octopus I have allowed it to fix its suckers flrmly on .my arm and the back of my band, and by pretending to try to pull them away from its grasp have caused it to exert its utmost power of resistance and retention. The only effect of this boa been that the vacuum produced an almost in distinguishable circular mark, correspond ing . with the edge of the larger disks; and not nearly so distinct as would be caused by the application of a glass tube to the skin, and the partial exhaustion of the air in It by drawing it from the other end by the month and tongue. In some of the cephalopods the out, circle of the cups is a horny ring, sharply serrated or dentated around its edge; and in others—for instance, Onychoteuthis—the centre of each enp is provided with a sharp, strong hook, which is plunged deeply into flesh of slip pery prey for the better security of its hold; but the cuttle-fish thus famished are, unlike the | octopus, habitual swimmers, instead of rock-, crawlers. The sessile arms of the octopods are considerably longer than those of the decapods, or tcu-armod cuttle-fishes, but the latter have, in addition to the eight corresponding limbs, two long tentac ular arms, which, in some genera, are marvel ous in the perfection of their compound appara tus for seeming and holding a struggling cap tive. This arrangement is well suited to their habits and mode of life. Animals purely swim mers, and which hunt and overtake their prey by speed, would be impeded by having to drag after them a bundle of lenghty appendages trailing heavily astern. But a long reach of arm is an advantage, instead of a hindrance, to the octopus j for, although it can swim on occa sion. ite ordinary habit is to remain lurking in some favorite cranny—its body tbrost for pro tection well back in the interior of the recess—its bright eyes keenly on the watch; three or four of its arms flrmly attached to the walla of its hiding-place, tho others gently waving, gliding, and fooling about in the water, aa if to maintain its vigilance and keep itself always on the alert, and in readiness to pounce on any unfortunate wayfarer that may pass near its den. To small flsfl, crustacean or mollusc, tho slightest contact with even one of those lithe arms is fatal. In stantaneously as pull of trigger brings down a bird, or touch of electric wire explodes a torpedo or a mining fuse, the pistons of the series of suckers are simultaneously drawn inward, the air is removed from the pneumatic holders, and a vacuum created in each; the victim strives to escape: a farther retraction of the central part of the disk makes all secure; and, as arm after arm, containing a mitrailleuse of inverted air guns, takes horrid hold, battery after battery of them is brought to bear, and tho pressure of the air is so great that nothing can ef fect tho relaxation of their retentive power but the destruction of the air-pump that works them, or the closing of the throttle-valve by which they ore connected with it. M. Hugo gives ua the means of estimating tho size of the body of the octopus which attacked Gilliatt. He tells ns that its arms were ‘ nearly a metre (89 inches) long.’ Kone of so great dimensions : have. I believe, been found in the English chan nel, out it is not impossible that such exist. Granting this, the body ,of such an octopus would much larger than a soda-water bottle or a Florence flask, such os olive-oil is sold in; and so the ‘ horrible hag, which is a monster,’and into which you are to bo inhaled and drawn alive, is bnt a small affair after all. The sucker, also, whichthe novelist says ranged from the size of a flve-frano piece (which I And to be one and a half inches in diameter) to that of a split pea, would, commencing at the largest of them at the bases of the arms, bo .from the sizo of a sixpence to that of the head of- the smallest of pills. The plain truth is that tho octopus and other cephalopods obtain and eat their food very much like tho rapacious birds. They are tho falcons of the sea. Some of thorn, like Onychoteuthis, strike their prey with talons and suckers also; others, like, tho octopus, lay hold of it with suckers alone; but they all tear tho flesh with their beaks, ana swallow : and di test their food in as nnromantio a. fashion as oea hawk or vulture.” FOND RECOLLECTIONS. Ah I once—but that was long ago— I loved a maid -with eyes of snow. With tresses pink, and Ups of blue, - And cheeks that mocked the raven’s hue. I hope t rightly catalogue The charms that once were dear to me, Bat memory’s a shifty dog, And mine’s not what it used to be I Her eyebrows reached unto her waist, Which by both arms was scarce embraced | She wore her teeth in glossy curls ; Her eyelashes were rows of pearls. That is, if I can recollect— Bat even love at times forgets, And I can’t swear I’m quite correct In fitting nouns with epithets. —Futu Gypsies and Their Secret Poison*. Among other secrets of the Gypsy race is the art of preparing what they term the “ drei, ” or “ dri,” a most deadly and insidious destructive agent, and for which medical science knows no antidote. Analysis detects no notions proper ties whatever, and the most careful examination, microscopical or otherwise,- shdws it simply to consist of apparently harmless vegetable matter. The “drei,” then, is merely a brown powder, ob tained from a certain species of fungus; forming the nearest connecting link between the animal and vegetable kingdoms, the powder consisting 'of an- infinity of spornles. These fungoid >sporales possess the peculiar property of being farther developed only by intimate contact with living animal matter (aa when swallowed, Ac.); they then throw out innumerable greenish-yel low fibres, about twelve or eighteen inches in length. When the i ‘ drei ”is administered, usn allyin some warm drink, these spornles are swallowed, attach themselves to tho mueuous membrane, germinate, throw out millions of these silky fibres, whicn grow with awful rapid ity,' first, producing symptoms of hectio fever, then cough, eventually accompa nied by incessant spitting of blood, till death finally inevitably supervenes, usually ;in about a fortnight or throo weeks 1 time. A case of this description occurred in Italy in 1860. Although the patient was attended by eminent . physicians accustomed to dealing with cases of, slow poisoning, no suspicions of fonl play, were enteixainod till tho day after the decease, when an autopsy being hold, revealed the' causa of death. Tho fibres; the growth, of which-had ceased with the cessation of animal life and heat that had supported them, were already partially decomposed; had another day or so- elapsed, no .trace would have been left of tho foul deed. If the analysis of the mixture in question reveal no deleterious drug, lofc ft .dog.'or other animal be daily dosed with “threedrops ” in..some warm vehicle.' - The result - would * show ~ whether the brown powder is or is not the world-famous and destructive “ drei.” PARIS. The Governmental Crisis— M. Thiers and the Polit ical Parties. Dueling in France—A French Ac count of a Duel at Chicago, Death of a Noted Gunsmith—The Vendome Column. From Our Own Corruporutent, The in tensest anxiety reigns here. We liter ally do not know what a day may bring forth. Tho recent elections, and especially the Faria election, have STABTLZn FBAXCS. Is this country wildly revolutionary ? Are wo again to have La Commune, with closed cham ber, and assassinated priests; gendarmes, and Conservatives ? Are Mons. Qambotta and the men he collected around him in Tours, on the eve of being once more masters of Prance ? Is the army, shattered into atoms by mntinoos spirit, untrustworthy against insurrection ? ,Is society, bo fiercely assailed in June, ’l3, —still more imperiled in March, April, Hay,'7l,—on the eve of perishing ? Are the streets of Paris' to be deluged with blood, and its horizon once more to ba-mode lurid with incendiary confla grations, consuming the treasures of the world, the heirlooms of civilization 7 These are the questions painfully asked. I cannot answer them. It is time’s task. All I can do is to let yon see the present state of af fairs, the currents of public opinion, the influ ences at work to change, or to impel them head* long down their present course* ONE THING IS TO BE REHZ3£BERED in considering tho state of affairs in France, namely: that the rural population Is always for the Government, unless the Government prove burdensome. The urban population, on the contrary, is always and unconditionally against the Government; against' Louis Philippe; against the Provisional Government; against Cavaignac (voting for Louis Napoleon!); against Louis Napoleon; against the Prince-President; against the Emperor; against the Government of the National Defense; against M. Thiers. The rural population" supports the Government because the rural population is averse to change. Now M; Thiers has, from the moment he saw himself safely ensconced in power, done every thing to breed contempt for the Conservative side of the National Assembly. He declared it alone caused all the disquiet which reigns; it attacked him because he wished to found the Republic, while it wished to establish a mon archy. All the officers of the Government fol lowed this cue, so that all the elections which take place send Radicals to the National As sembly, because M. Thiers continually declares that the Radicals alone enable him to carry on tho Government; Vain as a peacock, he has all along persuad ed himself that he could makh THE RADICALS do as he pleased. He had but to will, and the* Radicals would execute his wishes. The Radicals took good care not to undeceive him until they thought' themselves masters of the future. They voted against free trade, against decentralization, against short military service, against ministerial responsibility, every principle they had declared sacred. This was all the easier for the Radicals, because they do not admire free government. Their bean-ideal of government is an intelligent tyrant of their own party, who will make their ideas triumphant by fire and sword, if no other means prove effect ual. They think themselves now able to do with out M; Thiers ; and while they will not break with him, while they will support him against the Right, they consider him (they have openly used this expression) a mere extra horse, — un cheval de relai, —necessary to enable them, to draw tho lumbering diligence of French politics up the steep hill on whose sum mit the Republic stands; They will not keep him one minute longer than they can use him, and will discard him the instant they discover themselves able to do without him* . M. Thiers’ little hold on the Radicals was clearly shown by the result of tho Paris He exerted all his influence; he brought the in fluence of such moderate Republicans os Messrs. Grovy, Emmanuel, Arago, Carnot, Cernuachi, Henri Martin, to support Mons. -de Remusat; and yet the.latter failed to be elected; an over

whelming vote was cast against him. are confounded. The disunion among them, from the incredible stupidity of the Legitimists, and from the timidity of some of the Orlean ists, makes the Bight weak, despite their large majority in the National Assembly. The meas ures they-will have juiopted will have been com municated to you by telegraph; therefore I need cot speculate upon the shape they are likely to- receive. They may dismiss Mona. Thiers from the Presidency, but hero their power' ends. They cannot make a coup d’etat. Nolwdy can. The officers -of the army would not take part in a coup d’etat against the Assembly. The privates . would not obey thoir officers, were they to attempt to lead the former, the privates, against the people. The privates of the army aro.for the most part Bodi cals. Hod the Bight able leaders, and were those leaders supported,' they would at once dis* solve the Assembly and order new elections. .The longer the present state of affairs continues to exist, the more unpopular the Bight will be-; come. They ought to precipitate the crisis, that reaction may set in.' Tho instant the Radicals got possession of power, the whole Left will bo shattered, and .. . * MONS. OAMBETTA AND BIS FRIENDS will become as hated throughout France as they were in February. ’7l. They are men who have no policy,—at all events, no practical policy. Their followers are people wno expect from them moans of living* luxuriously in idleness; while the rich pay for everything. Badical rule means that poor men wm enjoy one holiday, lasting from the cradle to the grave, in. which poverty will saunter in fine clothes, and eat the cream, the' fat, and the fine wines of " the land. • Aa those visions can never become - realities, - the Badical party will split to pieces, and the' great body of people in Frimce } wearied by the incessant, sterile agitation, will yearn for a Bonaparte or an Orleans—maybe oven for a Chambprd—to end the anarchy. - Would you understand con temporary French history, read the annals of 1848, *49, *SO, ’sl. . lon will see how history re peats itself; how, “The more Frenchmen change things, the more things remain just the same.* 1 ■ - ■ comas fob one is an unknown formula here, —even more un known than pistols for two. Dueling has not gone out of fashion, but it has been made as 'bloodless,—no, that is not the word, for, unleas -one of the principals ’he pinked, everybody' con - nectod with the affair would be covered with ridicule, —let me then rather say, dueling has -been made harmless. Nobody minds the loss of a little blood (Heavens I where would the har bors be were it otherwise?), especially if he passes for a hero by that loss. Moreover, one gets into the newspapers.—has his little trial before the Police Court,—is a lion in his circle of acquaint ances. The seconds like it better than the prin cipals, for they have all these advantages, and an excellent breakfast at the principals’ expense, but ore spared that “ phantasma,” that “ brand dream,” which fill*? the night- before the hostile meeting. Duels may prove innocuous —yet— but: a long line’of disjunctive conjunctions heralds to that night’s sleepless hours thednel iflta who have, never returned from the field. Awkwardness has been as fatal as malevolence : besides, to whom has the antagonist given bond of good behavior? Duels are rare even, in the army. A portion of the, press hero famishes most belligerents/ but “this portion* of the press ,iBS noir .the part which; is most respected. .Mons. JPaul de- Caasagnac as -the leader of these duelists, and he is a good deal feared; but I.atn told that he is a poor swords- and owes his success to the ignorance of; his adversaries. * Amateurs of duels have for some time been bn* the'lookout for a duel * be- • tween him and Mons. Banc, who is a a bitter a Radical as Mons. do Cassagnac is an ardent im- periaiiut. Each baa exhausted his vocahuiaryof vituperation on the other, but, despite aIT these foul words, the blow, has not yet come. Each is afraid of the other. . A duel between Mona. Bo gat and Mons. Eatisbonne has likewise been ex pected, but as yet the quarrel has got no further than angry words. The writers on Xe Fays (Mons. do Cassagnac’s paper) have for weeks been trying to force youugtlamillo Pellotau (a writer on Le Moppet, and son of Mons. Eugene Felletan, the Radical Deputy), into the field; but ho declines treading any such dangerous' ground. has greeted the following letter, which 1b said to have been written in these circumstances: Two well-known young men had quarreled about some tribe. Coras had been exchanged; seconds summoned: a duel arranged. At day-break the morning of the light, the challenged principal re ceived this letter from the challenger: ** My dear sir and dear adversary:l have two objec tions to the duel which over-obliging friends have arranged between us, Jly first objection is, lAm afraid of hurting you. 3ly second ob jection is, I am afraid you will hurt me. I really can’t see what earthly advantage it would be to me to put a ball into your body, even were 1 to lodge it; in the most fleshy part of your back. I could not mako any, the least, culinary use of you • after your death, for are : neither a rabbit nor a turkey; besides. lam not a cannibal, and do not feed on human flesh. Wherefore, then, should 1 kill a man whom I can put to no sort of use ? Beef Is a great deal bettor, for, while lam quite sure yours is tender and delicate, I am afraid it lacks that firmness which-takes salt, and lam sure it would not keep long. As for myself, I confess I hare decided objections to putting myself in the path of a dangerous pro jectile. lam downright frightened to think you might hit me, and I foal prudence requires me to keep in doors at the timo appointed by our over-obliging friends for you to shoot your pis?. tol. If you persist in your whim of trying your pistols, oblige me by taking for your mark some object of nearly my dimensions,—for instance, the trunk of a tree. Xou will find a plenty of them in the Bois do Bou logne. If you hit it, drop me a line to let me know, and I will instantly confess that, hod I stood in the tree’s place, you would have hit me too. Accept, my dear sir and door adversary, as* snrances of my most distinguished considera tion.” Pams, May 12, iffra. is thus described by & French newspaper i “If ever a nation considered dueling as a serious business, it is the American nation. One day, a Cincinnati merchant was challenged by a Chicago banker; The challenge was sent by telegraphy and these telegrams were exchanged: Cincinnati to Chicago: “Challenge accepted. Come to Cincinnati to settle the conditions.* 1 Chicago to Cincinnati: “ I shall do no such thing. Why should I, and not yon, take the trouble to travel? ” Cincinnati to Chicago: “Because my wife is in childbed.” Chicago to Cincinnati: “AU right. Expect me in the next train.** The Chi cago banker found the Cincinnati merchant at the railway-station, and asked the latter: “ Well, are you ready for the fight? Why, in the deuce, are you so pale ?** “ Be cause 1 am afraid I am a ruined man. My correspondent at Havre has ceased making mo his usual remittances.** “By Jove! that’s bad!’* “I set out for Havre to-morrow; wo will figbt when I return. 1 * “ I shan’t quit you.” They embarked on the same steamship. When they reach Havre the Cincinnati merchant finds bis correspondent has run off to Canton with all the money he could raise. They go after him. They find and arrest him at Canton, bring him back to Havre, have him tried, con victed, and put in tho penitentiary. This prose cution lasts six months. After they have seen the rogue put in the penitentiary, they return to America. They had now been traveling to gether for two years, and had come to love each other like brothers. Nevertheless, the day after they reached Chicago, tho banker said: “By the wav, we have almost forgotten onr duel. We have to fight.” “To be sure we must.** The following day they fought on the lake-shore, with rifles, tho distance was twenty paces. Both fell mortally wounded, and their last breath ex pired saying; “ All right.** Maybe th?H name never reached you. Railway, telegraph, newspaper, have brought the whole world so near together that the famous men of every village are announced to the public, which, confounded by the mob of eminent people, takes notice of none of them. Bat, if you have visited Paris, Deviszne’s shop has caught your eye. It is on the Boulevard dos Italians, near the Cafe de Foy (the.dearest and tbe worst restaurant In Paris), Torloni’s, Maison Doree; its windows are filled with arms of all sorts andof all countries, from the heavy elephant rifle with exploding ball to tho drawing-room pistol, from the two handed sword and massive mace to the dueling small-sword and the jjockot poignard, from in elegant but long-ranging Chaseepot to Turkish muskets covered with silver arabesques, and studded with precious stones. Devisme was not only an excellent gunsmith, but an inventor. Sport owes to him exploding balls for elephant, lion, tiger huntora; the harpoon-musket for whalers and porpoises. His guns are generally consid ered the best made in Franco, though Napoleon 111. preferred Reinctte’s. Devisme’s shop fur nished the weapons for all duels fought here. He had an assortment whose merit was their in nocnousness. Ho had one pair of pistols, espe cially, which were warranted, even in the hand of tho most expert marksman, to carry the ball six feet wide of the object* He called these “ reconciliation pistols.” Ho had long been tor tured by the stone. His physician advised an operation. It was fatal. THE TEKI)O3£E COLUMN has not yet been rebuilt, and present appear ances are, tbat it will not bo reared for some time to come. The Government will not advance the $50,000 required. It baa such antipathy to everything Napoleonic that it forbade even the mass for the rest of Napoleon’s soul which waa annually celebrated in the Hotel doa Invalidea from 1831 to 1870, both inclusive, on the sth of May, his birthday. Everything, oven to the plan of scaffolding, is ready for the reconstruction of the Column. Foscolo. ’XIs morn I Heaven opes her gates of light,— ' Flings her pure radiance o’er this ruder world; The moon, pale wandVer of the pathless night, 'Withdraws as her bright banners are unfurled. Stealing o’er tho waves, the Orient dawn Comes blushing, beauteous, as a bashful girl,— Scattering over Heaven’s azure lawn Her gentle foot-prints upon paths of pearl. There’s something spell-like in this dreamy hour. So passionless and meek its gentle seeming; Its diamond dew-drops aro a simple dower, • Purer than the soon-tido sunlight streaming. Now gem-like set on every shrub and tree, And bright tiaras o’er the green grass making, Rich beds of precious stones they seem to be, Glistening in the pink light dimly breakings Day dawns apace: In majesty, the sun Thro’ the blue sky bursts with sparkling quiver; From moon and star the rosy chase he’s won,— beams descending like a rainbow river. Twelve hours before to earth ho bade adieu, leaving no traces of his fadeless glory; To-day the same bright course doth he renew, To-night to tell again the same sweet story. The sun appears ah emblem of our fate; Oft with regret wo look upon his setting Like friends who throng a death-bed desolate, In grief tho rising of the soul forgetting.. So when our pilgrimage on earth is stayed. Death’s shadow falls upon each heart with sorrow; But the soul, immortal, ne’er can fade, It to rise more gloriously to-morrow. And. aa I watch yon golden orb of day, Prayers, earnest, fervent, from my soul go pleading, For there, beyond the glory-gUded way. Seems that bright home to which earth 1 * cares are leading* Daibt, Once Wlien Chnse VTas Iliad* « L. X>. n.J* in the Cleveland Herald , An incident which occurred at the second in auguration of Gov. Chase was every way charac teristic of bis noble manhood. The ceremonv was to take place in the rotunda of the Capitol, where a stand.was erected inthocentre; the space above the stand was reserved for-members of the Legislature; the halls above and below and the stairways were open to every body else. As chief of the 1 Governor’s staff it was my duty to keep the stand clear of intruders, and, knowing the Governor’s dislike to apparent force, I had left off my sword, and strove with only a light walking-stick to oppose a tremendous pressure of ladies and gentlemen, who were determined to fill tho rotunda before the State officers elect and the two Houses of the Legislature had entered. Tho approaching procession was led by a mili tary company, ana tho impatient throng which had hitherto respected my sash and staff, aa soon as the Governor was in his place, were be yond my control. I said to tho Captain of the military escort: “ Please form your men across this passage until the Legislature is seated.” The Captain was a martinet, so he ordered: « About face, charge bayonet t ”, ' The astonished crowd began to fall back ; the Governor sprang to his feet in awful wrath, and with a. voice which rang above the din of the multitude, ho exclaimed; u Captain, I posi tively forbid any such order; withdraw your men immediately!” I never saw Mr. Chase in a positive passion before or since. A GOOD DEAL OF LAUGHTER DUELING IN CHICAGO DEVLSHE IS DEAD. MORNING ON THE LAKE. THE POOR SOUTH. A Dialectic Kovel in Five Min- utes. ST OBPBXUS C. KEBB. - The proud master of the estate and the mem ber of the Legislature confronted each other in momentary silence; the former very white and breathing quickly, the latter not so white and smiling in an ivory manner. Finally the Hon. Juba Lee spoke again: ' “Now, ]oa* you see h’yar, Mara’r Morgijee, I ain’t done g’wine to wait fo’ dia yar bill no longer, Hat’s shu’a y* bo’n. Dia chile’s in de Leg’alature now, honey, an* wants do money, shuah.” Cassio Morgijee eyed hia guest atill more sternly; but evidently labored to keep a con straint upon himself in hia answer: . “As I told you befoah, r tell you now once moah, it’a not in my, present powah, Juba, to pay you now and heah. An’ could Ido so, sir rah, by my halldozne you’d have your pitiful money within the howah,—and be shown the doah!” . “ Den, mara’r, Sheriff hab to putum screw, sob. Cat’s ahu’s y* bo’n.” “ How soon, I cayah not.” ' .* “ Sony fo’ you, mara’r; an’ fo’ young mars’r an’ young missus; but dia chile’s got hia rights, shu’s y’ bo’n. Must hab dot money, and dat’s a fac’.” Thus speaking, Mr. Lee took his departure. And the venerable owner of the grand old cha teau and grounds foil into a chair, with hia face in his hands, exclaiming: 44 This—this is, indeed moan than I can bayah I” Young Fawcleaux Morgijee, in dress-coat of the last century and nether continuations of tho year before, darted hastily into the room of his friend, Fourarre Steele, bearing in his tremu lous right hand a copy of that morning’s Daily Inquisitor , wherein appeared the following verses: When Sylvia’s fatal frown I see Reward my burning pray’r, 1 doubt if saints would envy mo The martyr’s crown I bear ; For anger more than patience meek My flashing eyes send forth, To mark the Southland’s daughter seek A suitor from the ‘Korth. Fet all the cruel pangs I feel Are still as woman old: And no’er a copper cares for Steele The Sylvia wooed by gold. “Seeh’yar, Steele,” cried the agitated intru der, after having road the lines aloud in an ex cited manner, I requiah an immediate expla nation of this stuff? You mean'my sister— that’s cleah. How dayah you ” “Dayah!” repeated'the other golden youth, hotly. “That’s not tho word for mo, I reckon. ‘Dayah I*—l deolayah I what next ? The young lady is becoming over-sensitive, I feoh. Per haps you haven’t noticed, Mr. Fawcleaux, that your sister is encouraging the addresses of that Yankee, Macreody Mobilyay, who’s been trying to buy your, place.” “My sister!—the Yankee—!” gasped the young man, starting back with clenched hands. “To be shuah,* r returned Fourarre Steele, with a sneer. - The brother stared at him in wrathful incredulity: “ Sylvia Morgijee—a daughter of the Soethe. and of Yirginyah—encourage the addresses of Northern scorn—of a sordid mudsill who takes advantage of our debt to Juba to try to buy of us our old patrimonial estate for seven dollars and a half ?—lt’s a lie!! ” “Bewayah!” “Liahi” The former friends eyed each other with bale ful fury, and then the epigrammatist pointed to the door. “ Mr. Morgijee, retiyah, 'sir.” “ Gladly, Mr. Steele: but only to send a friend to wait upon you in my place. D’y’ *ar ?” ** I Koui.V Thus the young Virginians parted; to meet next as foes and pistol to pistol. 41 The ide-yah 1” whispered Sylvia, indignant ly, as she and the gentleman, her companion, walked slowly in a retired street, near which they had met, by chance, the usual way. il The ide~ yob, that an old family like onra can be driven to such extremity for an old darkey's debt. Pat ting all their money together, poor Fa and Faw cleaux wore not able to make np more than half the sum. It's fe-yar-ful, and has cost us all bit tor techs.” “ Naow, du toll?” ejaculated MacreadyJlobfl yay, sympathetically. “ What a pity your old dad don't tako my offer for the place, and me along with it as a son-in-law. Haow sung that’d be for all hands, Silvy.‘* “I reckon it would. Macready; but pa and brother are proud of the old place, you know, and desiyah to get $8 for it, while you offer only *• . At this moment an aged man, his gray locks streaming wildly in the spring air, came sudden ly upon them from around an adjacent corner; distraction in bis manner, and a groan of anguish ' on his lips : 44 Sylvia—your brother—Pourarre Steele—duel —we must go thayah—and stop it—” Ho could say no more; but darted on frantically toward the suburbs of the city, not having noticed, ap parently, the hated being in his daughter's company. . 44 Duel? The ide-yah!” shrieked the young ladv, following after him. in a frenzy. tfhe Northern capitalist stared after him, whistled a moment, and then followed leisurely also. Upon the dark and bloody ground generally patronized by the best Southern society for finch occasions stood young Morgijee and Steele, with their seconds. The latter consulted together, while the principals stood apart, and seemed greatly troubled about something. Then one of them went and whispered to his man, and the other to his man. 44 / haven't got a cent about me,” eaidFaw cleauz, diecomfitedly, to bis second’s question. 44 / don’t own a dime myself,” was the despair ing reply of Pourarre to nis friend. 44 Then, gentlemen,” cried both seconds to gether, 44 yon can't exchange fiyahs; for each of us has come here supposing that the other would bring ammunition witn him; and, as neither hap pens to have any, and all of ns combined can't raise the moans to buy any, we may as well re linquish the affangb, and ” “My son! my son I am I indeed heah in time ?” cried the elder Morgijgee, bounding dis tractedly npon the scene. “The ide-yahl” screamed the ensning Sylvia, throwing herself beautifully between the duel ists. “ What’s all the raow abaout ?” inquired Mac ready Mobilyay, lounging up. «X do not cayah to live,” muttered Fawcleaui, floomily, “ since I see, now, for myself, that oth you, father, and Sylvia, have yonder loael Yankee In your company.” “ You sec, I was rightabout it,” added Pou rarre Steele, as dejectedly. “By’r Lady, an’l knew not what thovarlet was heah," exclaimed the sire, drawing himself up haughtily. “What means this, Sylvia, my deah ?” The maiden had caught the reproachful eye of her former wooer, Pourarre, and looked piteous ly to the ground. “ I knew that my father’s and brother s honor was at stake to JUba Lee,” she said, slowly, “ and dared not repulse the only human creature in Bichmond, possibly, who had the means to advance the sum of the debt." Mr. Mobilyay saw at once that he had lost his bride, but did not appear much affected. “Sechero, naow, neighbor,” said ho to the aged Cassio Morgijee, “what mont be this here debt o'youm to the Hon’ble Mr. Lee, afore said ?” - “it is for a job of whitewashing, done for me just befoah Juba was elected, to the Legisla ture,” answered the venerable Virginian, sadly, “ and amounts to fifty.” “Fifty what?” “Fifty cents.” _ “ Wal, then, I’ll tell what Pll do, Squire,” ro . turned Macroady. ‘ ‘ I'll hand yon that amount and seven dollars and a quarter, besides, and give np the lady, if you’ll sell your house and land to mo for that identical sum-tottie. It 8 giving Tou iniflo, you sec, of twenty-flvo cents over my offer fust-off.” • -. , Struck by the magnanimity and Justice of this proposal Mr. Morgijee accepted it on the spot. The young men took a portion of tho money, and. onlhe following day; resumed their duel, in which Pourarre Steele was dam.When the first shock of. the affair was., over, Mr. Mobilyay took heart to renew his former suit to Sylvia; and—as they had their choice between euconrag- ing him and retiring to tho almshouse—her father and brother received him (in his own hohse, by the way,) without violence. —Kew York Graphic. WINES. Sherry, Port, Madeira, Rhine, Ean« ffadan, and Domestic* From Uie Xew York Commercial Advertiser. ■ Spain has long occupied a prominent place | among the wine-growing countries of the Old World. Her vineyards prodace an abundance of the richest growths, as they are so situated on mountains and on the .river-sides of the Penin sula, that they find the most suitable exposures, and evojy variety of soil for the cultivation of the grape. The vintages* are distinguished by their high flavor and aroma, and also by their strength and durability. The Spaniard, when he drinks wine, gives preference to such as is rich and sweet, and therefore rates the growths of Malaga more highly than those of Xerez, which are, undoubtedly, the most perfect, and held in the highest estimation by other nations. The most celebrated and perfect wines of Spain are the sherries grown in the Province of Andalusia and the District of Xerez do la Pron tera; the vineyards extend over a tract of coun try 45 miles in length and 18 in breadth. Sherry is an English corruption of the word Xerez, to render the pronunciation more easy. This wine is made from both red and white grapes. Its va rieties are produced by the different modes of treating it. The best polo sherry is tnnda from the veryfinost grapes. Those that are verypale are chiefly owing to the difference in the ripe ness of the fruit. The various grades of color are obtained by the addition of boiled wine. Pino, pure sherry should be pale as amber in color, devoid of sweetness, of a dry flavor, fine aromatic odor, with some of the pleasant bitterness of tho peach pit, called “ nutty; ” delicacy and softness, firmness and durability, with absence of acidity, are the distinguishing characteristics of this wine of a high grade. Amontillado is a superior dry sherry of acci dental and quite a phenomenon in wine-making, as no wine-grower can be certain by what grape it will bo produced, or from what treatment it may bo obtained; and It Is singular that, of one hundred casks from the vine yard, some of them will be Amontillado without the grower being able to account for it; it has a strong flavor of oceanthic ether. Not one drop of brandy can be added to genuine Amontillado, and it allows of no foreign mixture whatever. It is always pale and brilliant. Vino de Pasto is a delicate and high-flavored wine, partaking somewhat of the character of Amontillado. It is not so dry, but more pal atable, and considered a superior dinner wine. Manzanilla, Topaz, and Oloroso are fine polo sherries, but are of a lower grade. The Island of Madeira is said to have been stocked with plants brought from Cypress, by order of Prince Henry, under whoso auspices the first colony of the Portuguese was establish ed there, in the year 1121. From a very early period, Madeira wine has bean in extensive use in this country; it appears to have been little used in England until the middle of the last century, and owed its introduction to the British officers who had served in the West Indies, and had become acquainted with the ex cellence of the wine.. Pino Madeira wines are re markable for their extraordinary durability. Like the ancient vintages of the Smrentine hills, they are truly “ firmisaima vina,” retaining these qualities unimpaired in both extremes of climate, suffering no decay, and constantly im proving as they advance in age. They are not pronounced perfect until they have been'kept eight or ten years in wood, and afterwards al-. lowed to mellow the some time in bottle. Tbo’ 44 nutty" taste, which is often very marked, is not communicated, as some have imagined, by means of bitter almonds, but is the result of superior quality and age, and becomes inherent in tho wine.' Malnsey is universally admitted to be one of the finest and most delicious sweet wines. Tho quantity produed is very limited. A portion of each vintage is usually reserved for tho Boyal table of Portugal. Sercial is an excellent dry wine. 'When new, it is very harsh, and re quires to be kept a long time before it is mel lowed. It possesses a rich aromatic flavor quito peculiar to itself, and holds tho. same rank. . MaAairtt_. win 63 .that Al a P n tiUAdO_dOeS among sherries. Tho grape which yields it is tho Johannisberg, transplanted from the‘Rhine. Baal is a delicate, soft wine, with a high flavor, and is supposed to have descended from a Span ish or the Burgundy grape. Tinto is made from purple and white grapes, mixed. It is an ex cellent table-drink, and improves much in this country with ago and proper treatment, Madeira wines have gone out of use to s great extent, from tho fact of tho failure of tbs vintage on the island, and the consequent im possibility to obtain them—except the old and too expensive wines. The growth, of the vine is restored, and tho quality of tho wine now being made is equal to that formerly shipped. , Port wine derives Its name from the place of shipment—Oporto. When new, It Is of a dark purple color, nas a rongh body, with an astrin gent sweet taste; the color also varies, from a pale rose to a bright purple. The color and as tringent properties of the wine ore derived from the husk, and in part from' tho seeds of tbe grape. When this wine has remained some years in the wood, tho sweetness, roughness, and os tringency of flavor abate; but it is only after ifr has been some timo in the bottle, that the aroma of tho wine is developed. No wine ia so easy of adulteration as port, none so much adulterated, and none which by more flavor*, from the natural coarseness of the wine in it? first stages, is so difficult to detect. The es sential characteristics of;.good port wine aro richness of color, a soft,. fruity, and generous teste, freedom from sweetness, and without too much astringeucy. Not more thau one-tenth of the 30,000 pipes annually shipped from Oporto can bo classed with wines of a superior qualtity; the demand being chiefly for low-priced wines, the merchants average the quality by mixing ono growth with another with brandy and other ad juncts to ineet the vitiated tastes of consumers. Tho whit© wines of Portugal are of very good quality, and as their flavor and aroma are gen erally *bf a more delicate and evanescent naturar than those of the red class, they are less capable of bearing an admixture of brandy. These wines are known in'the market by the names of shippers, and aro not branded as some others. The vino was introduced into Germany about tho time of the reign of Charlemagne, and was cultivated on tho banks of the Rhine. On both sides of the river are extensive ranges of vine yards, yielding a profusion of excellent wines. White wines constitute by far the greater por tion of those made in Germany. Those may bo regarded as a distinct order by themselves. Some of the higher sorts resemble very much the vins de grave ; but in general they are drier the French white wines, and . aro charac terized by a delicate flavor and aroma, called in the country gare, which is quit© pecu liar to them. An idea is prevalent that they are naturally acid; tho inferior kinds, no doubt, aro so, but the character of the fin© Rhine wines is free from any perceptible acidity to tho taste. Adds are supposed to generate gout, but that disease is rarely known on tbo banks of the Rhino. Johannisberger Cabinet ia the King of Ger man wines, ana is indebted for its celebrity to its high perfume and flavor, and tho total absence of acidity. The vineyard from which this wino is produced is owned by Prince Mettcrnich. Johannisberger is very valuable, and ia nearly unobtainable, as it is circulated almost exclu sively among the Imperial and Royal families of the Old World. Stelnberger may bo ranked next to Jbbanms berger. Tho vineyard from which it is pro duced is now tho property of the Grand Duka of Nassau. It is the strongest of all tbe Rhino wines, in former years had much sweetness; and delicacy. Rudeaheimer grows on the hull opposite Bingen, and in some instances has beea preferred to the Steinberg. Some of the Rudcs heim-Hinterhanser and Hadershoimerberg ap- ; proach in excellence to the Johanmaberg. Hock— heimer, Moselle, and Leibfranmildi are Ehen iah wines, and rank as the beat kinds, possess ing considerable body, flavor, and aroma. Ia addition to these, winch are all still wince, wo get the sparkling Hock and Moselle, wines surd far to tho champagne, bnfc of a mote fruity and rich nature, and of heavier body. Hungarian winea aro of limited consumption, resembling in stylo and flavor tho German or Hock wines. Tokay is tbe most celebrated. Bu dai, Bakator, Legszjardi, Tillainyi, Momilyi, are the brands most popular in this country. California is fast coming into prominence as a wins-prodncing country, sending her champagne, claret, port, ebony, and brandy, some of very food quality and of undoubted parity. It seems, owovor, impossible to imitate or rival tho foreign wines. There is something lacking in the soil or climate that prevents the domestic; wines from acquiring the' genuine flavor and tone. Catawba, champagne, and still wines aro largely consumed, oat they, like the preceding, fail to displace the French wince. .The spark ling winee are rich, crapy, and ; aromatic in flavor, resembling in inn tin ess tho 'sparkling Hock and HoseUe.-bnt the taste of the native grape shows itself prominent. 7

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