Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, June 8, 1873, Page 10

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated June 8, 1873 Page 10
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10 PERU. life in Spanish South-Amer- xca. The Harbor and Commerce of Callao —A Destructive Conflagration. Llamas-Mothers-in-Ijaw—A Fam ily Flcnic—Turlcey-Buzzards- . Special Correspondence of The Chicago Tribune, t.tvi, Peru, 8. A., May, 1873. It is very surprising to me that the people of the United States, in naming the great commer cial ports of the world, give due praise to Pana ma, Valparaiso, and Ban Francisco, but utterly ignore '* TFE BABBOB OF CALLAO, when, in fact, it is the finest open roadstead in the world, and has a very large commerce. The Pacific Steam Navigation Company sends three lines of steamers from Callao to Europe, via the Straits of Magellan, a weekly steamer to Panama and Valparaiso, and np and down the -entire coast, and weekly lines to intermediate j>orts; Franco disputes the trade of tho coast between Panama and Valparaiso; Germany has a new • European line; and the White gtar (American) Company has also just 'established a new line; while sailing ves sels of all kindw and nations are ‘continually arriving and departing; and, among these, tho fast-sailing, trim • dipper-ships of American build take precedence, both in beauty of hull and in point of numbers. In the year 1872, 2,193 vessels entered Callao harbor, and 2,111 vessels loaded with guano cleared from tiers. And, besides all these vessels, 32 ships alone brought 13,385 Coolies to Callao in a single year. It can be truly said of the 4,000 men who con stitute TTTE PERUVIAN ARMY, that two-thirds of the entire number are officers, who ride on spirited chargers, wear a quantity of gold bullion and lace, and are, in speech, very bravo and heroic. * The 2d of May has been celebrated in Peru annually with great rejoicing, as the day.when Peru discomfited the Spaniards, and drove them from the harbor by bombardment. This year celebration resulted very disastrously, baying resulted in A CONFLAGRATION on an immense scale, destroying SBOO,OOO worth of property. Half a square on the principal street in Callao is in rums, and. nearly all the American stores. As very few of the Peruvians Lave any fires in their houses (either for cook ing or other purposes, living almost entirely from eating-houses), it has never seemed a ne cessity to have suitable fire-engines, and several old, broken-down hand-engines have done ser vice for tho entire City of Lima, and two equally dilapidated - hand-engines are all they have pro vided for Callao. When, therefore, on the 2d of May, some hoodless enthusiast threw his rocket from the roof of the Hotel Comercio, to add to tho general glorification of the .day, he little calculated the consequences that would prove so disastrous. The light sparks, falling upon' the matting-thatched foot of the hotel, kindled Into a blaze, and soon the fire spread, and threatened to make a second ■Chicago of Callao. Had there been a good steam engine in the place, the fire could have been instantly subdued; but it kept on increasing in proportion, until SBOO,OOO worth of property (all the best stores) were destroyed. Since my last letter, I have been down to . . A LARGE SUGAR ESTATE (the largest on the coast) at Cerro AzuL Four teen millions worth of sugar alone is • made at thin estate in a single year; and tho little coast stcamer not only brings hack in tow a bark laden with sugar, but carries on her deck 3,000 baskets of oranges, grapes, and pine-apples for Callao. Along the edge* of this coast, which we closely bug, we saw immense droves ol (the native sheep of Peru), bearing goods far Into the interior. These llamas have a soft, beautiful wool, which is wrought into the finest places, lace-shawls, and sacques; and they are g£lao used as beasts of burden, each one carrying HpO pounds and no more. If they are over loaded. even one pound, they know It at once, 'and, by' sozno strange instinct, lie down, and cannot be induced, by persuasion, blow, kick, or epur, to arise, until tne overweight is removed. These little llamas (pronounced as if spelled yammas) go 100 and more miles from the coast into the interior, bearing, goods and merchan dise, in exchange for sugar, coffee, and native pisco (brandy); and there is not a drop of water, rior any apparent sign of vegetation, on these arid plains, the entire way. But a wonderful provision of Nature has placed about every 20 miles, a little, bitter, green plant, whose leaves these gather on their lonely way, and chew, keeping their mouths constantly moist, acting as a stimulant. These leaves they cany under their tongues for days, and it serves a double purpose,—as a substitute for drink and for food. It been my good fortune to be an invited guest to a family (Peruvian) picnic. I think that'in no country, except Pern, can there be found such entire harmony as exists here among relatives. It has passed into a proverb almost, in the United States, that a man cannot live with his MOTHER-IN-LAW in peace and quiet, and I know .there are nu merous jokes and sly hints dropped before the unfortunate tmir. who has one of these append ages to his household. Indeed, when we were going out to Peru, on the steamer, the first time, a most ludicrous incident occurred on board, having for its theme this same subject, a mother-in-law. At Guayaquil, where the steamer stopped for coals, ' and to take on and discharge freight, among the queer native curiosities that were brought off in boats to us, to sell, by the native boatmen, was an armadillo, or Spanish ant-eater. An American gentleman on board, while others supplied them selves with parrots, monkeys, tropical birds, and fruits of various kinds, purchased this ant-eater, and carried him carefully to his cabin. In vain he fed tho creature with files, spiders, fruits, and various kinds of luxuries; the ant-eater pined away, and died tho second day be had bought him. Our friend seemed to feel its loss keenly, and. being joked about it, said that “He felt badly at losing the creature, not that be had any aunt that it could have eaten, but, because if it was bo good at eating aunts, he hoped it might have had an inclination to make a meal of his mother-in-law instead; and that was the reason, he purchased the animal.” The Peruvians have none of . these peculiar antipathies; and, in a large house, not only, do father, mother, and children, but married aunts, uncles, and their children, as well as grand parents on both aides, all live under one roof, and in perfect harmony and quietude. I was in vited to one of their family picnics, where ihe entire family numbered thirty-four. znembers. we went by anil and row-boat to San Lorenzo, the island and mountain-resort of Po ruTiane, on a picnic excursion. The sail by sea was fine, being seven miles opposite Callao ; the refreshments, music, and entertainment of guests wore all that could be desired. But what a place for a picnic. As soon would I thinV of having a picnic in the unfinished cellar of some open building in course of erection in Chicago as at San Lorenzo. The whole mountain tells of its volcanic, earthquake nature. It rises to _ an immense height, bleak and bare. The soil is covered with a gray, ashy sand; and there are no signs of vegetation visible,—no green blade of grass, no green foliage, to break the monoto ny. Band-dies and mosquitoes swarm around on the low, sandy beach. An old, tumble-down adobe building, once large and imposing, stands solitary and alone. Crows, turkey-buzzards, and. sea-gnus wheel in frightened circles over your head! and scream in shrill alarm. On the very summit of the mountain is erected a huge wood en cross, and a light-house stands beside it, as a guide to vessels entering the harbor. Away back from the beach, and on one side the moun tain, you come upon numerous graves, the bod ies of poor, unknown sailors and others, who fell victims to the yellow fever. These graves lie huddled close together, and are so dreary and deserted! A more lonely, forbidding place -for a. rendezvous cannot be imagined; -yet the Peruvians prefer it to all' others, even to a picnic among olive plantations or orange groves, with the odor of ten thousand Sowers all around yon. A quaint place for a pleasure party ia this old island;’ yet, because of the lovely ride thither, it is . visited daily. An immense hotel was erected upon San: Lorenzo { years ago by ' some unfortunate speculator, who expected to see the island a popular place of resort fortne summer season. But, to me, the only attrac tion is the ceaseless beat of the waves ega^ 18 the sides of the mountain ; and no person could till the soil sufficiently to sustain life, if he lived there end controlled the ontno foeolete island. Wo had our own sport, however, watch ins ° the turkey-buzzards, ■■ who flock around us. They would alight and.eat every scrap thrown to them, of whatever nature. What ridiculous creatures they are, with long, black legs, huge, unwieldy bodies, and little, shining, bead-like eyes,—as solemn and as min isterial, in debate over a paper-collar and a nnd of cheese, as any clergyman over hia first ser mon ! What a rasping, hissing noise they make! How they hop and fly, with the queerest kind of a movement! One of our party (who had been troubled with pleurisy) had in his pocket an old « Allcock’s Porous Plaster,” ready for an emer gency, which ho threw; to them. How they pulled and trigged at it, the pitch or tar of which ft was composed sticking to their feet and bills; and what a contest was waged over it! Now, one solemn, old, parson-like fellow lias succeed ed in swallowing the largest part of it, and how he hops off with dignified ' disgust, walking as if it was (as no doubt it might have been) stuck closely to his insides ! What quaint creatures they are I But this ends my trip to San Lorenzo. . walda. AN ILL-FATED FAMILY. From the Nexo York World, A sort of Nemosia seems to attend certain fam ilies, which takes tho form of perpetually bring ing them in unpleasant aspects into the courts of law. VTo lately adverted to the now brood of troubles which threatened the race of Nool- Byron, in the shape of a Suit brought for divorce by Lord 'Wentworth against his wife, to whom be has been married but three years. Half a century ago tho conjugal difficulties of hia grand father and grandmother were the talk of tho town, whilst rather more than a century before the liaison of her collateral ancestress, tho beau tiful Henrietta, Baroness Wentworth in her own right, with the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth was the ecaudal of the Court of James H. That lady succeeded, on the 4 death of her grandfather, in 1667, to his barony of Went worth, and superb house of Toddington, in Bed fordshire: and there is this of extenuation for the beautiful Baroness’ attachment' to the woman-enthralling darling of Charles the Second, that there is but little doubt that they would have married if they could. Greed of gold, how ever, spoilt two Uvea which might have bean bo fair. Eager to secure for hia favorite eon tho hand of the richest heiress of her time, Charles the Second married him, then only 14, to the young Countess of Bncclench, then a child of 12. It was scarcely surprising that a marriage eo completely one of convenience provedUl-aaeorted- So far aa it involved tho living together as man and wife, the Duke would seem almost to have regarded it as of non-offoct. He deserted the Dnohess, and took up hie abode at Toddington with Lady Wentworth. So matters continued np to the disastrous events at Sedgemoor in 1685. Balph states that just be fore the execution, when the divines in attend ance npon the Duke tried in vain to convince him of the iniquity of hia attachment to Lady Went worth, ho continued to assert that it was to her and not to the heiress of Bncclench that he was married before God, and that rather than admit the gnilt of their association he died without re ceiving tho holy communion. Before many months were over two graves received their occupants by reason of the exceptionally dreadful execution on Tower Will on the 15th of July, 1865. If tho Bnke cared little for his wife it may bo pre sumed that ha was less indifferent to his chil dren, for it is stated that hie daughter, Lady Anno, died of grief for her father. And in the following spring there was borne to the transept of the pariah church at Toddington, long tho burial place of tho Wentworths, the coffin of tho young Baroness. ” Over her remains her family reared a sumptuous mausoleum (long since gone to ruin), but a less costly memorial of her was long contemplated with far deeper interest. Her name, carved hy the hand of him whom she loved so well, was a few years ago still discern ible on a tree in the adjoining park.” Peerages which descend to female heirs do not easily me out, and tho barony ot Wentworth passed, some time after. Baroness Henrietta a death, to tho Noels, and thenco to tho wife (a Noel) of Sir Balph Milbanke, father of Byron a The history of that lady is, thanks to Mrs. Stowe especially, too well- Known. It might have been hoped that with her the chapter of Tnaritjd misfortune would have terminated, but unfortunately the complications aeezn, on tho contrary, rather to increase. A few days ago the London Times contained the announcement, “The Lady Wentworth of a son,” a circum stance that carries with it the possibilities, if not probabilities, of a disputed Peerage succes sion case. When the notorious Mordaunt cause came on all the world said, “What a mercy that the child last bom to Lady Mordaunt was a daughter I ” A difficulty similar to that now threatening the Wentworths being thus dissipated by the sex of the child, but in the Wentworth case even this would not avert the trouble, as a female could succeed. Another notable circumstance in Lord Went worth’s suit has been the withdrawal of pro ceedings against one of tho “ co-respondents ” on the ground of his being a member of the Diplomatic Corps, thus establishing a great, fact in favor of the “ gay Lntherians ” of di plomacy, who may, it appears, pursue their per nicious propensities with impunity so far at least as legal redress is concerned. There are some in England who will doubtless recall anent proceeding the line adopted in 1653 by that great Governor, tho Lord Protector. A dispute having arisen between Don Pantal oon Sa, brother of the Portuguese Ambassador, and an English gentleman named Gerard, a scuffle ensued, but the combatants were sepa rated. On tho 22dthe Don returned with twenty companions and assaulted and killed a gentle man whom he mistook for Gerard. His pur- pose, as he believed, being effected, he took ref uge with his brother, the Ambassador, who, am bassadorial privileges vigorously urged notwith standing, was compelled to surrender him and he was committed to Newgate. This occurred in November, and in the following July he and his accomplices were put to death. “To render the circumstances the more memorable it was so cofitrived that the Ambassador signed a de finitive pending treaty of peace with Portugal in the morning his brother was beheaded in the afternoon.” Certainly it must be con fessed a piquant© and emphatic incident, show ing that Cromwell was not to be trifled with. DYING. Call me pci names, as you used to do; Pillow my head on your breast, And aing me the songs we used to sing, For soon I shall sleep and rest. Let me look np in your dear, dear eyes. With mine that.are glazing fast And hold in yoor own my trembling hand. Till the valley and shadow are past. And do. not look back with one thought of reproach To yourself, when my life is done; Only remember that Heaven is mine,— That the pearly gates are won. Only remember the broken flower That drooped in the northern blast; Bejoice that the Journey is over now,— That the haven |s reached at last. Forgive you ? Dear lore, when my straggling soul Its fetters has almost riven, Do yon think i could fly to my Father’s arms, Leaving yon unforgiven ? How press down my eyelids with kisses once more. Tears 7 Kay, but yon must not weep. The day has been long, but the night is near, ; When He giveth hia loved ones sleep. There’s a sound as of waters ; death’s tide creeps up; Fold me again to your breast, And ring me the songs we used to sing, For now I shall sleep and rest. Garnet B. Freeman. A Balloon Trip to Europe* Prof. John Wise and W. H. Donaldson, two experienced and well known aeronauts, propose : to take the balloon voyage of which so much has been said and so little done. The Boston Board of Aldermen have responded to a petition from them, and made an appropriation of $3,000 to aid them in fitting out their aerial ship, in which they will start from the common in that city on the 4th of July.. The gentlemen intend taking two other persons with them, and through the co-operation of the Franklin Institute m Philadelphia, expect to secure the services of two scientific men. Prof. Wise bases his reason for undertaking this perilous voyage on the fol lowing theories: At a certain height above the earth there is a continuous air current, or tide setting from west to east, caused mainly by the centrifugal force generated by the revolution of the earth on its axis, and that this current moves at the rate of from -60 to 100 miles per hour. Thus he expects to reach England in two days, at the most, from the time of starting. TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JUNE 8, 1873. THE PIASArBIRD. A legend of the Illinois- BY MARTIN BEEM. On tho banks of the Mississippi, 25 miles northeast from St. Louis, and about 6 mfles from the mouth of the Missouri, stretched over a hundred hills, lies the qulofc, half-secular, half- Puritanicol old City of Alton. Just below it begins the Great American Bot tom. Back to the oast, and northward, rise hill and bluff gradually, some abruptly, from the water’s edge, and, rolling backward, - blend im perceptibly into tho great prairies of the State; while, on the-west, flows the Mississippi, De- Soto’s magnificent mausoleum, flanked ’in turn by Mariposa-like cottonwoods, and an almost tropical luxuriance of hazel, willow, and vine. There, amid the doubtful aspirations of the present and the cherished traditions of the past, •the good people tell this Indian legend: The Ottow-wahs and tho Illinois were,allies, and Lin-cah-tollo, “tho Firm Oak,” was their Chief. Together they had quiet possession of that country, and were at peace with all tho sur rounding tribes. They were all happy, except Lin-cah-tello, saddened at tho mysterious loss of his only daughter, and the death of her lover, who flung himself over tho cliffs, in a moment of despair, into the water below; but the great Chief, nevertheless, lived for hia people, and their ingenuous sympathy buoyed him up. As the years of prosperity-rolled by, suddenly the Pissa-bird came among them, and took up its home in a cave in tho cliffs, scarce a league to tho northward of the present site of the city. Whence it came, how it received its name, or what that name meant, is unknown. Its coming was as sudden as its shape was mysterious. Pos sessing an eagle’s head and wings,—the former created with steel,—it had the tongue of an ad der, and the tail of a dragon, tipped with tho sting of a scorpion. It had four legs, human to the knees, and eagle tho rest, pointed by the longest and sharpest of talons.—making alto gether a monster the peer of which was never known before or since, and which, fortunately, left no progeny. ~_ With tho swiftness of an arrow it would light down upon an Indian, sink its beak into him, and carry him away to its cave. Often a half-dozen wore token in one day to sate its voracious ap petite. No one was safe in venturing out alone ; and frequently when a group wore bathing or fishing, it would sweep down like winged light ning, and carry one off to its eyrie in the cliffs. Nothing in the shape of bird, man, or beast was free from its all-dovouring nature. The hald eaglo, primeval lord of the castles in the crags along the river's edge, took fright, and soared away into the thunder's home, and never return ed again; and tho smaller birds, that once made the air joyous with their lays, caught the wlßrm ) and .piped and caroled no more. The browsing herds of game disappeared: the wail of the panther, the howl of the wolf, and the fierce growl of the boar, no more re-echoed in the dense solitude; nothing, save the per petual lashing of the river, broke the almost death-like stillness. Anxiety, starvation, and despair now suc ceeded the peace, happiness, and plenty of this Arcadia. What had they done that the Great Spirit should send this terrible curse upon them ? War was the only shaft in tho quiver of God’s wrath they had seen or felt. Pestilence and famine, principally creatures of civilization, wore to them unknown. Of all the terrors they had ever experienced, this dreadful bird brought tho greatest; and how could they es cape them? , .... The medicine-men had invoked tho aition of Mee-sak-kam-ne-go, tho grandmother of mankind, who had in charge all the poisons, with which she could help her children when she wished; but she listened not to tboir tearful supplications. She didn’t .care for them; and tho demon-bird kept" oh in its fearful work of destruction. Then they sought tho assistance of Kla-po-chee-sek, the North Wind ;J hut all their earnest appeals and weird incantations failed to move it from its wintry homo. It was indifferent to their fate. And now thoir solo hope lay in an appeal to Ah-min-mee-o-goo-chce, “ the Spirit of Thunderand all tho great medi cine-men in the surrounding tribes were asked to come together and help them to urge that spirit to drive tho scourge away. Their faith was great in the power of .Thunder, and in the effect of tho great minting medicine song they sang in their appeal. Few could sing it,—not more than four in all the surrounding tribes, —and nothing could resist it. As the rocks and trees danced and reeled before the mellow symphonies of the lute of Orpheus, so were deer, bear, elk, and antelope known to come tremblingly around and submit to sacri fice under its potent spell. They met; and, amid a chorus of shrieks and groans, of yells and cries, there was one loud, continuous, earnest appeal to the unseen spirit living in the clouds, whoso voice was louder and stronger than anything earth had seen or ear had heard, to give them some loud-sounding medicine, or wind, or rain, or sleet, or snow,— anything needful to insure tho destruction of this bird; and then they sank to the earth ex hausted, and waited for a response. For above them, a few fleecy clouds were float ing like angel-banners from Heaven’s battle ments ; but no sound came from them, or rever berated in the unfathomable depths of blue be yond. But they knew that the spirit of Thunder would come; so they patiently waited. The wind, rustling the leaves for a moment, was thought to be the forerunner of an impending storm; hut, climbing the. almost vertical cliffs, it lingered awhile m the gnarled cedars, and then, leaping upward, died away in the rock ribbed hills beyond. Bat still they hoped and waited. Slowly the hours dragged along; but yet there was neither doubt nor a response. Then suddenly they were startled by a roar and shock from above. High np the bluff, a huge rock, cleft once by lightning and beaten by a thousand storms, broke from its base, and, leaping like live thunder down the rattling crags, caused their hearts to well high with hope,—sinking low with disap pointment a few moments after. Then sanguine expectation yielded to nervous apprehension. Could it be possible that the spirit of Thunder would not coma to their aid ?—that it, too, would remain indifferent to their fate, after all their earnest appeals ? Oh, no! the thought was too harrowing to entertain, and tho great medicine-men dismissed it, and still patiently hoped and waited. slowly tho dying sun dropped down the sky, gilding the bluff-tops with almost celestial splendor, and flinging a golden zone around the snowy clouds in the firmament above. It loft the world, and with it perished every ray of hope. Ah-min-me-o-gee-chce was afraid ! Now what could they do ? That congealing Sthat seizes the bosom when all the world is le, and Heaven seems unwilling, to give the desired relief, seized npon all. To Lin-cah-tello their eyes involuntarily turned; but what could he do, human as they, toward relieving them from this accursed destroyer? Lin-cah-tello was a great Chief, wise in council, strong in arm, and brave in battle. He had often dallied with death, and laughed it to scorn. He. had gono fifty days without food; had cut the tongue from a bear, tom the fangs from an adder ; and bad made the bravest Chief of his foes swallow an arrow,—tho crowning glory of all achievements of war; hut now (how crushing the thought!), with all of his wisdom and valor, he was as pow less as a palsied arm to help them. Gathering his Chiefs and Head-men about him, he proposed the last and only remaining plan to relieve themselves of this bloodthirsty sprite. Some one must he sacrificed, placed m a con spicuous position, and twenty-five warriors, with poisoned arrows, were to be secreted near, and fire at the bird when it came for its prey. And to him was to be left the right to select the victim for the sacrifice. Silently this proposition was received; hut who would be the chosen victim ? All wondered, but instantly concluded that it would be some worthless brave or squaw, useless longer to the tribe. Of course, none other would be sacrificed, none other was necessary. The day appointed came. Every preparation had been made; but tho victim was yet unknown. The livers of three antelopes had been thrown into & rattlesnake’s den until thoroughly per meated with poison, and into these thmr arrows were soaked. The hour hod come. The war riors, —twenty-five of the bravest, quickest, and truest, —with their bows, were placed in posi tion by Lin-cah-tello ; and all was in readiness but the sacrifice. 'Whom could it be ? Stepping out before them, &U robed and paint ed for the war-path, Lin-cah-tello told his anx ious clans he .had carefully thought over who should save them by sac rificing his life, and he had chosen one whom he thought all loved, but at whom the Great Spirit must certainly be angry, or why time afflict his people ? He hoped all would calmly submit to his choice when he gave .his name. And then, pausing a moment, and looking around at those before him, with his eyes beaming with love, whilst their hearts beat high with mingled sorrow and dread, he told them that he had chosen none other than bimnelf! Lond were the cries that went up against his decision! Scores"ofwarriors sprang forward andßegged id take 'his place $ women throw their arms about bis neck, and implored him to desist; ‘ and - children shrieked- their 'appeals to -stay, and , Uve with theEL—for how could they do without him?- But-Lin-cah-tello was Inflexible, With a silent wave of his hand ho bade them depart to their lodges, while he quiet ly took his position- near the river-edge, on a projecting rook, around which his.warriors were secreted, andcalmly resigned himself to.his fate, —a willing sacrifice on the altar of his people. The suspense was not long. As if scenting its Erey, the piasa-bird . soon made its appearance igh in the clouds above t soaring around and around, and gradually closing down to the earth, until it poised for a moment, straight, yet high, above him. It seemed surveying the field; and then, .when satisfied, ft came down with a fearful swoop' and hiss upon the noble Chieftain; but, ere'it struck its fatal talons, twenty-five poisoned messengers of death were hurled in its body, and, with an unearthly ehriek, chilling the blood of the bravest of the brave, it fell a harmless, quivering mass at Lin cab-tello’e feet. Wild was the delight and great the rejoicing then! All shouted, and sang, and danced around the dreadful scourge, now filled with ar rows, and dreaded no longer, until the great valley rang and echoed with their shouts, and those of sympathizing friends on the shore be yond, Lin-cah-tello only was oJm; his eyes, filled with tears, told of his heartfelt joy. AUnight their festivities continued; and the next day they painted the picture of the mon ster on the wall of the muffs, in a beautiful field and frame moulded by Nature, a short dis tance above the spot where the distracted lover mode his fatal leap. Many moons afterward Lin-cah-tello was gath ered to his fathers. Wrapping the robes around him he wore the day he succored his people, and decorating him with his paints and feathers, they placed him beneath the rock once chosen as the shrine of his sacrifice, now a perennial mon ument to his offering. ‘ So died Lin-cah-tello, —pleased with his knowl edge of the past and present, and happy in his ignorance of the future. Time rolled on, — decade following swiftly after decade. Then, far to the Eastward, arose another scourge, deadlier and more fearful yet to the red man of America. .He met fought it valiantly, but in vain. Before him, Kings, Emperors, and priests had opposed it with powerful*armies and subtle casuistries, but stayed it not. On it came l Mountains, rivers, oceans, forests, —all the bar riers and battlements of Nature could not stop its steady progress, nor bind its rushing pin ions. Still onward it pressed,—swiftly, silently, and incessantly I With the resistless march of “ the Scourge of God ” on Rome from the North, so came this mighty March of Mind from the East, and swept before it the doomed races of the soil, as the dew io swept by the hot' breath of the morning sun. . . Thus died the Ottow-wahs and the Illinois, and then only was the memory of Lin-cah-tell forgotten. This ends the legend,—vague, mysterious, and indistinct, as all genuine legends are. A A short distance above the old convict and mili tary prison a rock, looming high above the waters edge, is yet shown to the stranger as “ the lover’s leap. Near this spot, lovers now frequently gather; and, os the grand old river runs and sings its ceaseless song far beneath them, the doleful story of the Indian lovers is forgotten in others too supernal for such an alloy. Races change and generations pass sway, like the current below; yet the stream and their story are the same. Many are now living who remember traces of the painting of the bird on the cliffs, —which ‘ Time, the iconoclast, has now wholly destroyed. Piles of Indian bones, years agone, were found in the cave which,. together with a stream and a street, a township, and a tavern, yet bears its name. On the walls of some of the older citizens, pictures of its death can yet be seen; and a short account of this mystery has found its way into Livingston’s ephemeral history of Illinois; but what the real nature, object, or origin of the Piasarbird was, if it had any at all, is covered in the dust of ob livion, andj like the Mystery of Edwin Drood, must remain forever untold. GREAT FORTUNES. From Chamber’s Journal. The richest subject in England in 1685 had es tates which little exceeded £20,000 a year. The Bake of Ormond bad £23,000 a year; His Grace the Duke of Buckingham, £19,600 ; and Honk, Duke of Albemarle, left property which would yield a like sum. Macaulay, quoting King's Natural and Political Conclusions, says the aver age income of a temporal Peer was about £3,000 a year; of a baronet. £900; member, of the House of Commons, £BOO {History of England I. 309). Sir William Templo observes ; 11 The rev enues of a House of Commons have seldom ex ceeded £400,000 (Memoirs, p. S). Passing up to the eighteenth century, it has been said, no doubt with truth, that hardly any Englishman could have. produced half a million of money in 1750. We presume Alderman Beck ford could have done so, as in 1770 he left his son Fonthill, which had cost £240,000, £IOO,OOO

a year, and a million of ready money. How rapidly that fortune was dissipated! The author of Vaihek, at the age of thirty-six, in 1796, came to reside at Fonthill, and began to build a new house in the Gothic style. The following de scription of the house, by a visitor, is given in the preface to a recent edition of Vathek : “To give you an idea of the place, you must think of York Minster placed on a commanding elevation in the midst of a woodland paradise of many miles in extent. . . . . . . Although at this spot the interior of Eonthill has not the vastness of York Minster, yet I think the whole building stands on more ground. The dazzling effect of the stained glass in the lofty windows, when the sun throws their colors on the crimson carpets, contrasted with the vivid green lawn seen in the distance through the lofty entrance doors, themselves .as high as a moderate sized house ; the galleries a hundred feet above you; the magnificent mirror at the end of the room reflecting the prospect of the grounds for miles, present a scene I shall never see equalled. Looking right and loft, you have a clear view of three hundred and thirty feet, not bare stone walls, but 'a magnificent apartment, furnished with the most valuable books,- cabinets, paint ings, mirrors, crimson silk bangings, and a thou sand things besides; you walk' the whole dis tance on'euperb'carpets, and. at every step yonr attention is arrested' by some beautiful work of art or natural curiosity.” In 1823, the whole, in consequence of the-depreciation of his West India property combined with reckless expendi ture, was sold -to Mr. John Earquhar for £330,000; anditsformcr owner went to Bath, and there built an immense tower, from the summit of which he could see Eonthill, though seventy miles distant. The rise of the great House of Bothschild be longs to the eighteenth century. Meyer Anselm, a Jew, was bom in 1743, and was established as a money-lender, etc., in Erankfort, in 1772. From his poor shop bearing the sigh of the Bed Shield, ho acquired the name Bothschild. Ho founds good friend in William, Landgrave of Hesse ; and when the Landgrave, in 1806, had to flee from Napoleon, he intrusted the banker with about £250,000 to take care of. The care ful Jew traded with this; so that, in 1812, when he died, he 10ft about a million sterling to his six sons, Anselm, Solomon, Nathan, Meyer, Charles, and James. Knowing the truth of the old motto, “Union is strength,” he charged his sons that they should conduct their financial operations together. The third son, Nathan, was the cleverest of the family, and had settled in England, coming to Manchester in 1797, and London in' 1803. Twelve years after, we see him at Waterloo, Watching the battle, and posting 'to' England as soon as ho knew the issue, and spreading everywhere the defeat of the English. The clover but unscrupulous specula torthus depressed the funds, and his agents were enabled to buy at a cheap rate; and it is said that he made a million by this transaction. Ho died in 1838; but the real amount of his wealth never transpired. Ithas been said: “Nothing seemed too gigantic for his grasp, nothing too minute for ms notice. His mind was as capable of contracting a loan for millions as of calculat ing the lowest possible amount on which a clerk could exist.” (Chronicles and Characters of (he Stock Exchange.) ' ' ' . william stiahan the printer made a large fortune in the latter half of the eighteenth century. His "'third' son, . Andrew, who succeeded him in the business, left more than a million • when ho died in 1831. Thirty years after, the Dnke of Buckingham died, who, like his father, squandered a vast fortune at Stowe, and had to sell the contents of the mansion. This sale occupied forty days, and realized £76,662 4s 6d. (Burnley Forster’s Priced and Annotated Catalogue .) What a pity such a dispersion seemed 1 His Grace was, says Sir Bernard Burke, after the present reigning fami ly, the senior representative of the royal Houses of Tudor andPlantagenet. ’ ■ . James Morison, “the hygeist,” who died in 1840, •made £500,000 by the sale of ms vegetable pills. According to Mr. Grant (Hi story of the Newspaper Press), Holloway, the inventor of the celebrated pills and ointment which bear bis name, has amassed a fortune of from $1,500,000 to $2,000,- 000, and intends following In the steps of. Mr. Peabody. Pianoforte-making would also seem to be a profitable business, since Mr. Thomas Broadwood. who’died in 1862, left £350,000 per sonalty. William Joseph Denison, the banker, .left one of the greatest fortunes of modem times—namely, $2,500,000. in 1849. When Coutts,’ the banker, died, m 1821. he left bis wife (formerly Harriet Mellon; the actress) £600.000, os well as estates to a large amount. One instance, but of many, will suihee to show the good use his grond-oaughtor, the present Baroness Bordett Coutts, has made of this wealth: at a cost of $50,000 she endowed the 'Colonial 'Bishoprics of Adelaide and British Columbia. The Earl of Bridgewater, who died in 1823, left property amounting to about £2,000,000 to the then lord Alford, on condition that if he should die without, haying attained the rank of Marquis or Duke, the property was to go to his brother. But the question was raised, when Lord Alford died without having assumed these dignities, whether his son was not entitled to the property; and the House of Lords decided that the condition was contrary to the principles of the English Constitution, and Lord Alford’s son was confirmed in the title. Another will, which was the subject of much litigation, was that of Mr. Peter Thelusson, who died in London, in July, 1797. After leaving his wife £IOO,OOO, the residue (about £600,000) ho committed to the care of trustees, to accumu late during the lives of his sons and their sons, to be divided, when they were all dead, among their survivors. It was believed that the prop erty would then amount to £18,000,000 or £19,- 000,000. But legal and other expenses prevented this, and when divided in 1856,* little more than the original sum was divided among the three survivors (Book of Bays, ii. 97). But wealth has gone on accumulating in England to an enor mous extent, and the proving of the personality of 'wills allows us to realize this pretty accu rately. Mr. Gladstone was no doubt right when he said at Liverpool College, Dec. 22, 1872: ‘‘More wealth has, in this little island of onrs, been accumulated since the commencement of the present century—that is, within the lifetime of many who are still among ns—than in all the preceding ages, from the time, say, of Julius Cn?aar; and again at least as much of wealth within the last twenty years as within the pre ceding fifty.” The Spectator, Nov, 16, 1872, published a list containing an account of the fortunes ex ceeding a quarter of a million personalty daring the lose ten years. From this bat it appears that during the decade ten persona left more than a million, fifty-three more than half a million, and 161 more than a quarter of a million sterling. It mast bo remembered that these fortunes do not include landed investments. There are few examples of great fortunes made by misers, who often denied themselves the necessaries of life in order that they might leave a large sum behind them* Such a man was James Wood, of Gloucester, who died in 1836, possessed of property sworn under £900,000. A will was found in which he left all his property to Alderman Wood, of London, his attorney, and two clerks. But a short time after a codicil to the will was sent in anonymously, bcquething various large sums to different individuals. It was accompanied with this extraordinary memo randum : “ The inclosed is a paper saved out of many burned by parties'l could hang. They pretend it is not J. Wood’s band; many will swear to it. They want to swindle me. Let the rest know.” The writer was never discovered, and now came litigation, which lasted four years. Sir Herbert Jonner gave his judgment in 1840, rejecting the codocil so mysteriously sent. But —O the glorious uncertainty of the law!— Lord Lyndhurstr, in a higher court, reversed the judg ment, and the money was divided acording to the terms of the will, WANTED. Wanted, a hand to hold my own. As down Life’s valo I glide; Wanted, an arm to lean upon. Forever by my side. Wanted, a firm and steady foot, With step secure and free, To take its straight and onward pace Over Life’s path with me. Wanted, a form erect and high ; A head above my own, 80 much that I might walk beneath It’s shadow o’er me thrown. Wanted, on eye within whose depth Mine own might look and see What springs from a guileless heart. Overflowing with lovo for me. Wanted, a lip whose kindest smile Would speak for mo plane; A vcico whoso richest melody Would breathe Affection’s tone. Wanted, a true religious soul, To pious purpose given, With whom mine own might pass along The road that leads to Heaven. Prince Alfred’s Engagement. From ths yew York Sun. The Dnke of Edinburgh has always been con sidered by many persons as the best specimen of Qneen Victoria's sons. The Prince of Wales has never done anything particularly creditable, nor anything to endear him to the English people. His career as a young man, and his subsequent life as a husband, have not added lustre to his name; and with the radical advances which are now being made' every year in Great Britain, his inchoate right to the British throne is of a rather uncertain character. One look at the Duke of Edinburgh’s photo graph would convince any physiognomist that he .was more of a man than all his brothers put to gether. Ho is a sailor, and commanded his ship, the Galatea, very creditably in a long cruise. It is true that ho excited the indignation of the Colonial newspapers while his vessel was in Australia, by the cavalier manner in which ho treated the civic authorities, but then it is to be presumed there were extenuating circumstances. The public attention in England is now called to Prince Alfred by his engagement to the Grand Duchess Marie, the daughter of the Emperr of Eussia, which is freely reported. They met at Hesse Darmstadt a year or two since, from which time an understanding has existed between them. The Grand Duchess has been passing the spring at Sorrento with her mother at the Im perial Villa. Prince Alfred has been staying at the Tasso Hotel, in the same romantic Italian village : but has been constantly from morning to night at the villa of his betrothed. Ho re turned to London early in May, but will soon re join the Grand Duchess at Jugonhoim. in Hesse Darmstadt. The Emperor of Eussia will be there later, when official publicity will bo given to the future marriage. It was proposed as a condition that Prince Alfred should bind himself to reside a certain period of time every year in Eussia, but this ho refused to do. The dowry of the bride ' will be SIOO,OOO a year, besides 51,000,000 to fall back upon. This is fortunate, for there will probably be no necessity of forcing the British Parliament to vote a new sum of money for the support of the Duke and his bride. The strng fle witnessed in the case of the Marquis of ,ome will not be re-enacted, it is to be hoped. The Grand Duchess Marie is not beautiful, nor even pretty, but she is said to have an amia ble disposition. She is short of stature, with little color, and not at all a queenly presence j but her eyes are handsome and expressive. She has a great deal of German blood in her veins. Her mother, the present Empress, was a Prin cess of Hesse Darmstadt, and her grandmother, the wife of Nicholas, was the sister of the pres ent Emperor of Germany. Curious Facta Concerning the Great Ghizeb Pyramid The recently discovered corner-stone of the great Ghizeh pyramid, the first and largest of the Egyptian pyramids, was found hy the discoverer, an English clergyman, to have tho same remarkable relations to geometry that had been ascertained, by tho Astronomer Boyal of Scotland and other mathematicians, to exist in the pyramid as a whole and in various of its parts. Tho corner-stone, which had escaped, by being covered, the general stripping of the stone facing of the pyramid, was found in situ, to measure multiples of tho pyramidal cubit (a little more then twenty-five inches) on allits lines, and the angle of its outer slope to express, with mathematical accuracy, tho ratio of the diameter to the perimeter of a circle. The pyramidal cubit is exactly 0.000,000,01 of tho shortest radius of the earth, and the height of the restored pyramid, 222 cubits, the 0.000,- 000,000,1 of the distance of the sun from the earth, according to the lately corrected value of this distance. Similarly tho so-called ■ sarcophagus inside the pyramid has been found to bo an accurate measure of contents, based on the pyramidal cubit. A relation to tho mean density of tho earth is also found to exist, and it is a curious fact that tho unit of measure adopted by tho builders of the pyramid, sup posed to bo at least 8,000 years old, and to have been erected by a race anterior to the historical Egyptians, possesses a geometrical accuracy which does not exist in the French one, which, as is known, is not, what its designers intended it to be, in exact decimal relation with the meridian, owing to errors in the arc. Whoever the builders of the Ghizeh pyramid, astronomy must have been far advanced among them to ; enable them to calculate the distance of the sun at the amended figure to which it has been reduced only within the last three or four years. A FAMOUS BANK. Coutts&Cp’B« From the Boston Commercial Bulletin. Everybody has heard of Lady Bordett Coutts, the wealthy English woman whose munificence and hospitality have given her a world-wide rep utation ; but few people know anything about the family to which she was indebted, both for her name and her property. She was the daugh ter of Sir Francis Bordett, the eminent Whig statesman, who left a large family and a small estate. He had married the daughter of Thomas Coutts, the founder of the'fortune now pos sessed by his granddaughter, and of the famous banking house that bears bis name; but, as the old banker loft his property to his widow, who married again, his granddaughters chances of being a rich woman were by no means flat tering. Fortunately for her, Mrs. Coutts, whose second husband was the Buko of Bt. Al bans, secured her vast inheritance in her own hands, and, at her death, showed her respect for the memory of old Thomas by leaving it to his favorite granddaughter on condition that she assumed the name of Coutts. Down in the Str-ind, near Temple Bar, is the great banking house of Coutts & Co., as solid and strong as in the lifetime of its founder, and retaining and increasing the aristocratic patron age which ho first secured for it. The building occupied by the firm ia massive and gloomy looking, and the smoke which has blackened its walls for more than a century has deepened the substantial aspect of the old pile. Inside and out. everything about it is heavy and solid. Gilding and fila gree work may do for the bankers of the nou veaux riches, but the aristocracy of something besides wealth prefers substance to show. Bo thonght Thomas Coutts when he built this structure. The strong room where the safes are kept cost him £IO,OOO. The walls, floors, and roofs are made of solid blocks of stone, carefully dovetailed together, and the doors and panels are of wrought iron. Here ore safes within safes containing the title-deeds, rent rolls, and priceless valuables of the highest no bility in England. More coronetted carriages drive up to tm« smoky old building than all the other banking-houses in London. You may el bow a Duke in these quarters, and brush royalty itself, if you are not careful. The first article deposited in these safes was a, magnificent aigrette of diamonds which the Saltan of Turkey took from his turban to place in the hat of Nelson. Lady Bordett Coutts, whose vast fortune is mainly invested in the Ibank, keeps here all her valuables. Tom Moore writes in his diary, that, on calling one day on the heiress, whom he bad seen in oil her splendors the night before, he found her pre paring to send it all back to the bank. Sbe asked him whether he would like to see-it by daylight, and, on his assenting, took him to a room up-etairs where the treasure was deposited. Among it was the famous tiara of Maria Antoi nette. On the poet’s inquiry as to the total value of her dress, she answered in her quiet way, “ I think about a hundred thousand pounds.” It is curious to know how Thomas Coutts first secured for his banking-house the patron age of the aristocracy. • Not long after his estab lishment in business he determined to increase his own influence with moneyed men, and, as one means of accomplishing his object, gave regular dinners to the leading bankers and other financial magnates. At one of these dinners, a city goasipping about his business, said a nobleman had applied to him that very day for & loan of £30,C00, which he refused to make, because the security offered was not sufficient. Coutts said nothing, but after his guests bad gone, sent a message to the nobleman, re questing the favor of his Lordship’s attend ance at his banking-house in the Strand on the following morning. The next day the banker was gratified by receiving a call from the Peer, who was himself equally pleased by the tender of a loan for the £30.000. As the notes wore handed to him, he asked: “ But what security am I to give you ?” “I wTinii be satisfied,” answered Coutts, »* with your Lordship’s note-of-hand.” The astonished nobleman gave the note, and said that at present he should require only £IO,OOO, and wished the banker to open an ac count with him for the remaining £20,000. Coutts consented to this arrangement, and had the satisfaction, not long after, of receiving, in addition to the amount borrowed, a deposit of £200,000, the proceeds of the sale of some fami ly estates, which the loan had enabled the noble man to effect. At his recommendation, other members of the aristocracy transferred their ac counts to Coutts, who now became the favorite banker of fashionable London. George the Third banked with him till he found that Coutts had lent £IOO,OOO to his son-in-law, Sir Francis Bordett, to pay the expenses of his election to Parliament. Psosn. Elizabeth, or Betty Starkey, as ebo -was called, was tho daughter of a small Lanca shire- farmer, and to good looks added the more valuable attractions of good sense and good humor. A few days before her mar riage, she was scrubbing the stairs, when one of her master’s clerks was about going up to change his clothes. It was a rainy, dirty day, and, be ing anxious to have the work look well, Bettie told the young man to take off his shoes so as not to soil tho stairs. Instead of doing so, how ever, the clerk took especial pains to stamp add scrape at every step in order to dirty them as much as possible. This was too much for Betty, who shouted after him: u fll make you pull off your shoes, and your your stockings, too, whenever I choose it.” On hearing of the approaching marriage, the young man expected to be dismissed or madein some way to suffer the consequences of his in discretion. The young Mrs. Courts, however, so far from showing her displeasure, was particu larly gracious and friendly to him. Sucn was her tact and capacity that, notwith standing her deficiency in culture and refine ment, she soon became the equal in manners and intelligence of the ladies to whom her for tunate marriage introduced her. Her daughters were so well brought up that they became the ornaments of tho aristocratic circles into which their liberal dowries helped to gain them ad mission. Sophia, the oldest, married Sir Francis Burdofct; Susan, the second, became Countess of Guilford ; and Frances, the third, was made wife of the first Marquis of Bute. There was great excitement in tho banking house one day, caused by the absence of one of the clerks whose duty it was to attend to tho out-door or bill-collecting husidess. The sum with which he was intrusted exceeded £17,000 ; and, as he did not return at the usual hour, messengers were sent to all tho settling houses, and to his private lodgings, to ascer tain what had become of him. These inquiries proving fruitless, advertisements were sent to all the newspapers ; and next morning placards giving a full description of tho defaulter with rue booty, and a reward for his apprehension, were posted all over tho town. That day wore on without any nows of the missing person or property; out early the following morning a hanker from Southamp ton arrived post, bring with him the note case and bag containing tho whole of tho valuables. Ho said that the landlord of the inn where tho coach stopped asked him to come and see a stranger supposed to bo dying, and who wished to make some communica tion about a largo sum of money he had in his possession. On arriving at the inn, the person told hia name and business, and said that ne had been suddenly seized with a stupor while out collecting. As tho fit was coming on, he hailed a coach, which he supposed was a hack ney ono, in order to secure his money, and knew nothing more till he recovered his senses at the Southampton Inn. Notwithstanding his eager ness to have the money sent on to Courts, the old hanker half suspected that he had gone to Southampton to take a steamer to the Continent, but, missing it, invented the story of the stupor to conceal his evil mtent. But though he was dismissed from the bank on the ground that his liability to such attacks would impair hia useful ness, a present was given to him, large enough to secure a comfortaolo annuity. Courts 1 liking for bright as well as aristocratic company drew to his dinners many wits, espe cially those of the theatrical profession, of which he was very fond. In this way he became acquainted with Harriot Mellon, the well-known actress, whom he married on tho death of his first wife, in 1815. She proved an excellent wife to him, and, at his death, seven years after their xnatriage, at the age of 91, was loft in unrestrained possession of all his person al and landed property, including a very large share in the immense annual profits of the banking-house. Though she afterward married the Duke of St. Albans, Mrs. Courts did not part with the control of her vast property, which she left, in supposed accordance with her first husband’s wishes, to bis favorite grand- Coutta still retains her interest ia the banking-house, and her valuables are stored in the strong boxes built by her eccentric grandfather. Some 10 years ago it was esti mated that her wealth, in the form of sovereigns, would weigh thirteen tons and fill a hundred ant. seven flour sacks. The old firm of Courts & Co., in which she is the principal proprietor, ia still the most aristocratic of London bankers, and has lust admitted as a partner Lord Walter Campbell, the brother of the Marquis of Lome. SEPARATE- “And, If thou wilt, remember; And, Uthoa wilt, forget! ’• .. Across the awful gulf which yawns, I learn to say, -“ Good-bye, forever I ** Through noons, or nights, or dewy dawns. Our palms shall touch—oh, nor or—never, My words, indeed, are “ calm and cold; ” My ** smiling Ups betrsyno feeling ;** But aching hearts there are, which hold Wounds deeper for tbeprond concealing. I have in much, contempt the pain Which flaunts itself for public viewing; And making moan when moans are vain Tells all the world of Love's undoing. So my quick laughter comes and goes As though the pulse with Joy were throbbing; Only the hollow’d eyes disclose - The tears which fall in secret sobbing. Too late—too fate—your outstretched hand 1 The gift you scorn’d is past your reaching. Gol—may your life on sea or land, * Be nobler for this lesson’s Mrßttvf KXBTIATO, An African General* The Zulus who live north of Natal are para mount among the tribes of South Africa, and they gained this pre-eminence through the com manding energy and ability of one’man, Chaka, who, had he been a European, would sorely have been called “the great, but being only an African barbarian, is simply sumamed “The Bloody,” Previous to his reign, bis people were least among their brethren. They occupied a tract of land of not more than ten or twelve square miles in extent. Chaka. was a son of the Chief of this commu nity. From some peculiar circumstances attending upon his birth, he was re garded by the people as the possessor of superhuman gifts. Probably his mother, in her ambition forner child, suborned the medi cine-men to fabricate a lying wonder on his be half. But as he grew in years ho did not disap point the expectations that were thus formed of him. He was tall in stature, great in strength, arid in all deeds of daring and energy he out stripped those of his own age. The reputation which these qualities obtained for him excited the jealousy of his father, and Chaka, to save his life, fled to the Amatetwe, a neighboring tribe, whose Chief gave him protection. ‘With these people he remained until he was 80 yean of age, when his father died, and by which timft he was distinguished abovo all men as the possessor of gifts that are in high esteem with the Zulus. By the aid of some of the Amatetwe he made himself Chief of his own people; and the first act that signal ized his reign was the patting to death of all whom he suspected of being hostile to himself. This was sanguinary, but from his point of view no worse, and fully as necessary, as the coup d’etat by which more civilized potentates have obtained the supreme power. His next exploit was to make war upon and subdue the tribe that bad protected him when he was an exile. This was ungrateful, but men of great ambition nearer home have contemplated ingratitude as great. Then he abolished the old laws, and enacted the Code Chaka, by which, os Chief, he was invested with absolute personal authority, and, as in .more enlightened-lands, the entire nation was maria subservient to the production and main tenance of an army. Then he introduced a new system of warfare. He marshaled his troops into regiments, which were formed into three divisions, a portion of each being incorporated with every force that took the field. Instead of the ordinary bush-fighting, he made his men fight at close quarters; and forthe slender jave lin, which was thrown from a distance, he sub stituted a single stabbing spear of stouter mate rials, the loss of which was punished with death. For defensive purposes he gave to each man a large shield made out of buffalo hide. His discipline was severe. Hia soldiers had no alternative but to conquer or to die, for retreat, even when compelled thereto by su perior numbers, was visited by him with death. But such a punishment was rarely necessary: for Chaka was a consummate General, and had the art of inspiring his followers with hia own irresistible spirit. He made war upon all around him, and tribe after tribe was con quered, until he had been proclaimed victorious from the Mapoota to the Uxnzimvuba. Having fhqg satisfied bin warlike ambition, he directed his energies to the consolidation of his empire. And in the doing of this he seems to have earn ed his terrible surname as much by the merci less exercise of bis despotic power upon those who bad become rt hia people/* as by bis warfare upon his enemies. As he grew old his natural force abated, bis servants con spired against him, and he was murdered on the 22d of September, 1828. Many rejoiced at his death; but the Zulus cherish the memory of his f- reatness, swear by tho terror of his name, and are made his war-song their national anthem. And, judging him by the standardofhispossibUi ties, he was worthy of this honor. Out of a num ber of petty and conflicting kingdoms-be made an empire which did not disappear at hia death. Out of an undisciplined rabble he organized an army of 100,000 men, which has been found to be irresistible by every native force againsl which it has been burled. And the influence of his life haw extended far beyond the boundaries of hia own dominions. —The Comhill Magazine* Dental Art Among tlie Japanese* Dr. W. St. George Elliott, formerly of Troy, N. Y., now at Yokohama, Japan, sends to the Dental Cosmos an interesting account of Jap anese habits in regard to teeth, and of the state of dentistry in that empire. He says that the teeth of the daughters of Japan are ob jects of envy, and it is remarkable that .a peo ple who place so much value upon their teeth should keep up tho custom of . blacking them after marriage. As a race the Japanese have, got good teeth, and it is rare to find an old person with any at all. Their tooth-brushes consist of tough wood, pounded at one end to loosen the fibres. They resemble paint brushes, and owing to their shape it is impos sible to gat one behind the teeth. As might bo expected, there is on accumulation of tartar which frequently draws the teeth of old people. The greatest accumulation of tartar is behind the lower orals, and these are frequently cemented together by a dense,' dark-brown deposit a quarter of on inch in thickness. Their process of manufacturing false teeth is vary crude. The plates are made of wood,. and the teeth consist of tacks driven up from under the side. A piece of wax is heated and pressed into tho roof of the mouth. It is then taken out and hardened by putting it into cold water. Another piece of heated wax is applied to the impression, and, after being pressed into shape, is hardened, A piece of wood is then roughly cut into tho de sired form, and the model, having been smeared with red paint, is applied to xt. Where they touch each other a mark is left by the paint. This is'cut away till they touch evenly all over. Shark’s teeth, bits of ivory, or stone, for teeth, are set into the wood and retained in position bj being strung on a thread which is secured on each 4=md by a peg driven into the hole where the thread makes its exit from thebase. Iron or cop per tendril are driven into the ridge for masticating purposes,the unequal wear of the wood and metal Keeping up the desired roughness. Their full sets answer admirably for the mastication of food, but, as they do not improve the looks, they are worn but little for ornament. The ordinary service of aset of teeth is about five years,hutthey frequently last much longer. All full upper sets are retained by atmospheric pressure. Tom principle is coequal with art. In Japan, dentist ry exists only as a mechanical trade, and tea status of those who practice it is not very high. It is, in fact, graded with carpenters —their word hadyik/san meaning tooth-carpenter. . The Shall of Shahapeare. A mmtam French Baron, ■whose scientific tastes led him to collect the stalls of celebrated per sons, one day received a visit from a man with whom he was accustomed to deal. “What do yon bring me here?” aahedtne Baron, as the man slowly unwrapped a carefully enveloped package. “ The skull of Shakspeare.” “Impossible!” , - “ I speak the truth, Monsieur le Baron. Hera is proof of what I say,” - said the dealer, produc ing some papers. ~ ... “Bnt,” replied the Baron, drawing aside tbs drapery which concealed his own singular collec tion, “ I already possess that skull.” _ “Hemust have beenarogue who sold you that,” was the remark of the honest dealer. “ Who was it, Monsieur ?" . « Tonr father,” said the Baron, in a mild “ he sold it to me about twenty-njne.years ag°r The broker was for a moment disconcert so, then explained, with vivacity: “ I comprehend. Be good enough to obserrs the small dimensions of the skull on jma _sn ; Bemark the narrow occiput, the undovelof** forehead, where intelligence is A a of Shakspeare certainly, but sh i* child about 12 or 14 Tears old, th«» that of Shakspeare when ho had attained* tain age, become the great gsniui ol which England is bo justly proud. The Baron bought the second head.

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