Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, December 19, 1880, Page 18

1s THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1880—TWENTY PAGES. THE OWL. The Talonted Bird Swoops upon the Chicago Poste ~ Office. Weighing, Numbering, and Mor- alizing upon Our a Letters. How They Expound Chicago’s Commerce and Shone upon St. Louis. Romance and Reality by the Ton— Some Reflections—The Boy and the Bull. To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune. Cmcaco, Dec. 18—Mr. Ruskin—dear, Bod old incoherent sou! that heis!—Mr. Rus- kin would probably describe the interior of the Chicago Post-Office as ta symphony in red,”—a criticism which the general Jurid- ness prevailing inside that noble building would fully justify. From top to bottom— up, down, and across—the vast hall is blazing with litharge, on cornice and frieze and column and plinth, as if blushing at its own inagnificence. Turn fe tamest sort of bull loose in that Post-Office and he would either butt himself to death inside of ten minutes, or find out why he couldn’t. BULLS DON’T LIKE RED. Iremember, years ago, seeing 2 little boy in Shepbygan try on a vivid Zouave suit which his grandmother had made him,—a suit as unequivocal in color as this Post-. Office is. Whata glorious suit it was, to be sure! Full of that fire, and trimming, and general bagriness which characterize Zouave elothes,—and it had two nice flaps on the trousers and two real pockets in the jacket. My, he was just the happiest boy! and grandma was so proud you coul:in’t think, Well, after grandma had kissed him, and ma had cried over him, and pa bad said he'd do, and sister Liz had said he looked reai nice, and brother Jehnny that he looked like a housaafire (Johnny always was a low, en- vious bey; he’s in Congress now, reform- ing),—after all these had had their say, and Squire Bigzins had dropped in to remark that he prophesied that boy would be Presi- dent some day, and that he wished pa would Jend him his new wagon, why, then, TMs GORGEOUS LITTLE BOY was told to go over to the Perkinses, just across the lot, and play with the Perkinses’ little Jimmie. The reason for this was some- what obscure; but it may be set down ‘as a general fact that whenever the Perkinses got Inanew piece of furniture, or had a grand dinner, with two kinds of pie, or un- derwent any other such notable upheaval, Perkins? little boy was always sentslyly over to tell allabout itat this house; and that when- ever Toodic Perkins got anew dress, or anew beau, she would always walk by where sister Liz could see, and would stick her nose up and waggle from side to side as grandly. as Milwaukee girls do, and just set sister Liz wild. Well, of course, the Zouave suit, with the little boy in it, had to go over to Perkins’. ‘The little boy didn’t want to go a Dit,—he wanted to go downand . CATCH TADPOLES with nigger Joe, down by the ice pond—and, besides, Perkins’ little boy used to lick him regularly about every other week, and as near as he could figure it this was the week; no use, to Perkins’ he had to go. I saw him start across the ten-acre lot,—which was just in its glory with clover and bumble-bees,— start gingerly across that Jot, and turn back every rod or so to see if grandma, and Jobnny, and "Squire Biggins were looking,— vhich, of course, they were,—and then stop right in the middle of the lot to whistle upa doodiebug, : Away at the other end of the lot was Per- kins’ bull, and a big, bold, bad, black bull he was. Alfmorning he had been tuning up on clover, and was just in the’humor todo some- thing ornery,—he didn’t care mach what. it was. Ile saw. that little boy, that peaceful httle boy, all in red, like the nice little Zouave that he was, and immediately began to paw up dirt and prepare for business. Grandma saw him and screeched; and sister Liz fainted aw and Johnny ran down to get nigger Joc, who was great on bulls; and Squire Bigezins hugged sister Liz, aud hollered to ia to fetch down pa’s gun; and pa he raced around, and said those dam Perkinses put that bull out there a purpose; and the bull, hegawed and PAWED AXD BELLOWED, and theiittle boy he shone like a bandanna, and kept right on, a peacefully whistling up that doodlebug. Finally, when grandina had run off to get her umbrella to seare the bull with: and sister Liz had come to, and said she felt powerful weak: and Squire Biggins jad kissed her, and said he thought the bull was only playin’; and ma had got pa’s gut and loadéd it, with the shot in first; and pa, he had danced out after a pitehfork; and Johnny, he came tearing up lickitysplit with nigger Joe,—why, then it was that that bull eot under way, and that the doodiebug began to spit up dirt and make it as interesting as possible for that red little boy, kindly think i no one that if the little hoy saw the bull he might feel uneasy too, all of which Was very «ood of the doodlebug. It didn’t take more than a half a minute, after this, to make things red-hot in Sheboy- gan. The bull caught that little boy right in the ff of those trousers, and sent him up iz, SO high that he could hear the ing, and then skipped over to second it Were, and caughthim on the fly, su k, and gave him another yank as_nimbly as before, and got back to home base in time to give him still another bounce. Meantime, Pp had rushed out with the pitchfork, and grandma with the umbreila, and ma with the gun, and nigger Joe with eax, and Johnny with the rake; and "Squire Birgins moseyed down to the store, half a mile away, to borrow Si Green’s rifle, and sister Liz Jay yelli on the sufa witha taniption fit: and the Perkinses all. came out on the piazza, and Toodie Perkins fainted racefully in the arms of her beau, Ae vrais Sten al nance wes das erkins? boy. elim! gate and holiered SEE RP gh Be, “HOORAY FER OUR BULL!” and old Perkins, he sailed out in a jiffy to Keep ma trom shooting, because if would ‘anted to get over the gate, and the buil belped her: and nigger Joe threw the ax at him and hit Johnny on the legs Perkins grabbed "pa i and ae fetched him then Verkius’ Lired man came down and licked nigger Joe; and "Squire Biggins fired at the bull seven times from behind the house, and finally killed him; for which he afterwards had to pay $67 and costs. The little hoy had the nicest kind of a funeral, putting the Perkinses way dgwn in the shade,—they hadn't bad a funt year: s, and then sister Liz looked xu sweet in yes, the little boy was tuckea away sZouave clothes; and to this day the ttle boys of Sheboygan, when th us picnics to the graveyard, sa st doodlebugs in the country are to de caught on his grave. Buils don’t like red. Neither do I. But this is irrelevant. For all its being so gory, ; THE CHICAGO POST-OFFICE is second only to that of New York in im- portance. In the week beginning Dec. 1, it dispatched from Chicago 620,243 letters, P4265 postal-cards, 1,471,219 newspapers and maguzines, and’ 576,070. arti- tles of third-class matter, and _ 19,374 packages of merchandise,—in all, 2,921,191 separate pieces. These figures are from the ofticia] report, kindly shown me by Mr. M. J. McGrath. Superintendent of Mails. "I ed, for city delivery, duri of November, as shown by John M. Hubbard, Superintendent of , Cz fiers, 2,509,809 letters; 733,779 postal-cards; 24,263 newspapers and mnagazines. Allthese are exclusive of registered letters, which mount up into the thousands daily. “Besides all this, itsells an average of over $8,500 in slainps and stamped envelopes daily. The Auditor, Mr, E. P. Upham, showed me on ail the bull, Then the’buil chased grand- a over the fence, and got after ma, and ma ya's pitehfork, and pa bat on the eye; and! for nine exchange contidences, perhaps knows?~and bully. maybe. and the books $93,145.15 as thesales of November. In 1878 the office, after paying its 500 em- ployés and officers, and deducting every ex- pense, turned in $592,000 ta the Postmaster- General, In 1879 it 'sent_ $723,000, and_ this Year will send nearly $1,000,000,—a profit to Government of 80 per cent over all expenses. ‘he average money-order business transact- ed per month during 1850 was a trifle over $1,500,000, and the number of copies of THE ‘Tneusz and other city papers received for various cities outside ed, in weight, to NINETEEN TONS IN ONE DAY. But this is only a tithe of the work performed in this office. Tons upon tons of mall for townsin Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan, In- diana, and the, far West, and sometimes few letters tor Oshkosh, Kokomo, and St, Louis, ;come daily to this vast centre, and have to be forwarded to their destination. By the way, this reminds me. When I first went in his little den Mr, McGrath was weeping. He had just opened the report of the St. Touls office, giving the number of let- ters and papers receMed there during the same week in which Chicago’s report was made, and itmade him feel bad. St. Louis had re- ceived 310,590 letters, st Chicago’s 620,- 243; 146,491 postal-cards, against Chicago’s 24,265; and 575,353 newspapers, against Chi- cago’s 1,471,219, “Now this,” hesatd, becoming somewhat less hysterical, “this shows what awful lies they’ve told on_ poor St. Louis. if there is one true gauge in the world for a city, that gauge is the number of letters it receives and sends. Look at that figure, and you see ata glance exactly how she stands, numer- ically and commercially.” Whenever a vast tide of correspondence ebbs and flows, there - is just_as great current of prosperity be- neath it, and it is as true an index of a city’s relative rank as are the shoulderstraps of a Brigadier-General. Now, the figures show that St. Louis gets just one-half the number of letters Chicago does—and that’s just awful. Her total mail for one week was 1,270,890, against Chicago’s 2,921,18L” Here Mr. McGrath wept again. : Upon the St. Louis report was a brief note, running as follows: Dear McGrath : Send me your report as quick asyoucan, os # J.B. H., Superinténdent of Mails, St. Louis P.-O. “WHY, WHERE 18 ST. LOUIS??? wildly asked Mr. McGrath, waving the re- rt frantically. “Does she stand next to New. York ?—no, Chicago does. Does she stand next Chicago ?—no, Boston does. Does she come next to Boston then ?—no, there’s Philadelphia. |Next Philadelphia ?—not much; it’s here in black and white that Cincinnati is next — Philadel- phia. Cincinnati! merciful trichina! think of that,—a place that even Theodore Thoinas couldu’t stand, being ahead of St. Louis; it’s too mneh! it’s too much! My poor friend J, 1B. H. will either eat smoked ham, or, blow his brains out, or something, before the year isout! [havedone al! I could to console him,—sent him my report even,—but 1 find it’s no use.” . Ileft him alone in his misery. Poor St. uis As Mr. McGrath sald, the trnest index toa city’scommerce, wealth, refinement, and vop- ulation is her Post-Oflice. Taking the first week in Decembef as an average, it appears that during 18s0 Chicago has sent out over 31,000,000. Tetters, 76,000,000 newspapers and periodicals, and 12,000, postal-cards, re- eeiving in'turn about as many. The vastness of the business represented by this can be conjectured byeach reader of Tue Turpune for himself. : TIMRTY-ONE MILLION LETTERS! Think of the hopes, the ‘dreams, the plots, despair, joy, grief, pride, pain, schemes, am~- bitions, prayers, Jove, and hatred that these have borne,—how many romances they have brought about; how many human lives they have made happy; and how many they have plunged into hopelesness forever! What a variety of expressions letters have, or, rather, their trite, untalkative outsides! I often wonder if their envelopes tell as much of thesverets they hold in their inky within to the pustman as they do ‘to their recipient? 1 sometimes fancy they do,- who has not noted how solemn is the ca when he brings one fraught with evil tid- ings, or the furtive smirk in his eye when he hands Amelia a lovelorn Dut incoherent missive from Adolphus? Who docs not know those chubby letters,—letters whose frail little skins seem to be cracking all over with suppressed merriment, whose bristling direction uppeurs td be a dry joke, whose pust- mark Is in a broad grin, and upon whom Georxe Washington seems inebnated. and either stands upon his-head.or eants over idictically with his nose down,—plethoric, rascally letters that are always welcome, no matter how grimy and be- smeared they may be with travel,—ietters that seem to cume in with ao bop, skip. and a jump, breathless with giggles, and wink and call out “Hi! here I am!” Quick, open me first ee, “he, heel—or ie ty Ort 3 TH—ha, ha, ha!—Ill bust!—be, he, he!” and whose very crackle as we unfuld them {sa con- tagious and irrepressible chuckle? And then the large. casy-yuing, careless, good-natured letters with a blot in the Ieft-hand corner and the name of tho street misspelled, that bounce in with a thump, but don’t seem tobe ina par- ucular hurry to be read.—letters from good, old, honest, well-wishing friends; contrasting with those ‘precise, Smooth, crisp. exasperatingly neat letters that tiptoe in with grace and a bow; whose fresh-looking stump fts exactly in the proper corner, and whose address is clear 2s copper-plute and indented like A TENNYSONIC STANZA, with curly-cue flourishes and a period at the end of the name, and the street, and town, and State—letters thut are not dog-cared,’ aud whose general appearance is not scruity and disheveled, but -who seem to have been conveyed’ in a special palace-car. bya white-gloved attendant, and not thrown biggiety-pigglety into a leathern sack like the rest of “em,—letters a baby might know to con- tain nothing but polite verbiage, and meanimg- less persitiage, and irritating compliments, and annuying thanks—in fince—pah!—such duty’ let- ters xs those people write who are under some trivial obligation to you, and. want to get rid of it to incur another, but Who, you are morally certain, wouldn't Hft a finger tosuve you from starvation or the madbouse? Yes, there are these letter,—we all know them by their ex- ternals; and there are {ctters, too, with broad, square, determined faces, with no nonsense about them,—letters that have evidently come for an unswer, and are going to have it—from lawyers, and agents, and bankers mostly; there are battered and intoxicated-looking letters from dissipated club friends; oth that secin patiently suffering fora replyy—prineipally from creditors, these; others, again. with an angry countenange, or B& one, or a scared one, or one of indignant ‘expostulation, or of miid_ remonstrunce; those also on whose faces sit bintunt vulgarity, pre- gumption, nasty toadyisin, or unconscious but intolerabie familisrity; those whose giairy mon- ogram and musky smell and sprawling direction smack of ostentation and newly-acquired, grengy dollara: and those with poverty, wretch- eduess, and despair staring mutely out from thelr every wrinkle. Then, there aro LETTERS THAT SMILE and letters that frown; letters that are fat and dull and letters skimpy but bright; letters that are timid and small, and very sensitive and re- Uring, and letters that swagger uud are pom- pous and look vastly mere Independent than they really are; letters that glance up with the easy freedom of long acquaintance: and letters of the touch-me-not order, whose look is super- Gicially peasant. but couveys an underlying hint to handle gingerly, open carefully, read tivice, and reply to with dettness and extreme caution. Then, too, there arc the letters whose physiog- nomies we hate go that we feel like knocking the carrier down for bringing them; and there are those—O happily fur wanderers, bappily for those who are distant and lonely and. recelve them!—whose very touch is a tender caress, who have hopo, and comfort, and love writ out on their fair, sweet faces, whose rustle is as the Yoice of -our nearest ‘and deurest, whose yery unspeaking presence. thrills us with an olden thrill, | whose sunny — white- ness brings new’ light into our lives, conjuring back well-remembered sceues to till the prospect; letters that are ever a pleasure and a surprise, for all 60 long expected and eagerly looked for: letters that seem to have foe eat our Boilre, and lips to kiss us warm- ¥.—the while in rapid whispers el peat over and over” Se Suey elh aaa e: Eres THEIR PRECIOUS STORY. fo be sure—to be sure—thore are a 3 every one of them.and a hundred ope expressive little fellows, whose very jackets tell an immense deal to him who never has rend them and never will—ns next to every one knows. Indecd, yes! there's a something almost kumanin the: very face of the letter, 8 some- thing more eloquent. oed pan. thecountenanco Q 3 it can took of tg uo passionate or cold, peeiaeran it is as cian or piebian,.wise or ignorant, vul; fined, in outward characteristics a8 its weitere aye, in its. tracery I believe often and often one may note not the bare outline but the very speaking image of him or of her from whose band it comes; so I marvel not at the lincs— It in quite a thing of the she ls comebody olse's wite— ‘While 1.1 can smille at the passion ‘Whose raptures once thrilled my Ilfe. Quite a thing of the past, and yet As with dream-troubied eyes I stand, Idly scanning this yellow old letter ina woman's delicate hand— . Drifts from me the loveless present, And Lalmost think I can trace, In the faded lines of aietter, — ~ ‘My old love's beautiful face. Dear me! queer things are letters! But so ut- terly different are they, one from the other, and of such widely-varying dispositions, sentiments, castes, is, and opinions that I have often in wild and lurid dreams fancied they must talk, and argue, and expostulate with one another in the mail-sacks on the way, and swop secrets aud quarrel —who gut to hicago has amount- |. fighting, which {s tho worst thing that could happen, ‘but the only theory satisfactorily ex- plaining the dismal condition in which some of them arrive. THE OWL. THE PHOTOPHONE. Description of tho Latest Scientific Marvel—A Beain of Light Carrying Sound. _ London Spectator. The world cannot keep pace with the scien- ‘| tific surprises of thisage. Before sufficient time has elapsed to make one startling inven- tion familiar, another equally ‘astonishing is already the subject of lectures and newspa- per articles. Before the telephone, the microphone, and the phonograph have found their way into common use, a still more ex- traordinary instrument is announced,—one of which the results are as unexpected by the scientific as they are Incredible to the ordi- nary mind. We hear of conversation being earried.on by means of a trembling beam of light, and incredulity reaches its climax when itis whispered that the photophone may enable us to hear the rise and fall of those gigantic. storms that are constantly sweeping over the sun’s surface. Is it possi- bie that the revolutions of modern science— condenined as materialistic and prosaic—can thus outstrip the wildest flights of the imagi- nation? ‘The photophone is the latest development of Prof. Graham Bell’s ingenuity, and for its scientific novelty, if not for its practical utility, well deserves a brief description. One of the elementary bodies, named selenium, and allied to sulphur, is known to undergo certain changes in its molecular structure when light falls upon it. ‘These changes cause the very high resistance it offers to the passage of an electric current to vary slightly, and this curious effect, hitherto believed to be unique, has Jately been the subject of in- vestigation by various English physicists, It occurred to several that this substance might be employed as a sort of ‘telephone, a beam of light being used to replace the conducting wires of the usual forms of these instru- ments. Prof. Grahain Bell, the discoverer of the telephone, to whom, amongst others, this idea occurred, has had the good-fortune to throw that thought into practical shape. A mirror, from which is rellected a power- ful beam of light, may be caused to vibrate by means of the voice. Tifese vibrations toss the beam of light slightly to and fro, and this vibrating beam falls upon a selenium re- ceiver, through which an electric current is pai thereby creating shght variations in the resistances the current encounters. These tiny variations in electric resistance can be Ly detected and rendered audible by . that won- derfully sensitive little instrument, the Bell telephone. - This was the conception which Jed Prof. Bell to announce ina lecture de- Hivered before the Royal Institution so long ago as 1878, the “possibility of hearing a shadow fall upon a piece of selenium.” Within the last few mouths he has succeeded in putting this into practical execution, In the articulating photophone a beam of light, derived either trom an artificial source or from the sun, is thrown by a thirror on to the transmitter, which is a small dise of silvered glass, with a tube and mouthpiece attached. ‘he beam of light reflected from the transmitter is focused us nearly as_possi- bie upon the distant receiver. When, there- fore, words are spoken into the mouthpiece the dise becomes agitated, alters slightly in shape, and, therefore, in its foval length, and thus affects the receiving-station by throwing upon it a greater or less amount of light, ac- cording as the beam is in or out of focus. absolutely accurate adjustinent. were possi- ble, and all disturbing elements could be eliminated, the varying amount of illumina- tion received ut the distant end would wholly depend upon the varjations in sound at the transmitting end, and an exact reproduction of the original sounds would be_ obtained. ‘This we cannot expect yet, but the results already obtained lead one to hope that in time eyen this may be achieved. - The receiver of the photophone, as at pres- ent arranged, consists of a large concave inirror, which reflects and focuses the light upon aselenium cell; this is connected with a battery. and a couple of ordinary telephones are included in the circuit, The selenium ecllis very ingeniously adapted by Prof. Betl-to its purpose. It gonsists of alternate discs of brass and mica, the edges of which are coated with enium, pared to make it usthinas possible, whilst yet exposing a sufliciently Jarge surface to the action of the light. Any inerease of Licht, falling upon this selenium cell, lessens its electrie resistance; Hence the vibrations of the mnirror (caused by the words spoken into the mouthpiece by the transmitter), altering somewhat the amount of light received upon the cell; reproduce themselves audibly, by means of the greater orless atnount of electricity: thereby trans- mitted through the telephone. ” Both trans- mitter and receiver must, of course, be so supported as to be free to move, according to the direction in which the beam has to be sent or received. ‘There are many difficulties in the practical working of this little instrument, but though entively satistaclory results have uot yet been obtained, the principle is beyond dis- pute that sound and light can act upon one another in the manner described. Articulate speech has been transmitted by means of the televhone toa distance of sume 250 yards, the voice being heard sometimes almost as loudly as in talking through dn ordinary tele- phone, though the sound varies in intensity in_an unaccountable manner, il has arrived at many interesting results while experimenting upon this in- strument, He has foun hat curious molecular changes take place not only in selenium, but also in thin surfaces of almost any substance; so that they respond, by audi- ble vibrations, to the action of an intermit- tent beain of light. There isa great differ- ence, however, in the sensitiveness of the dit- ferent substance vuleanite is one of the best, carbon is very good, but water is abso- lutely irresponsive, and_ glass, unsilvered, is also bad. Upon this discovery, Prof. Hell has constructed a simple form of photophone for transmitting musical tones, A beam of light is thrown upon a_mirror, and focused by a lens as betore; at the focus is a dise, perforated round its circumference with numerous holes. From this dise, which can be rotated so that the beam passes through a varying number of holes, accord- ing to the sped of rotation, the light passes on to areceiving disc of ebonite, from whence the sounds are conveyed bya tube to the listener. ‘That these musical sounds— are much Jouder than the spoken ward: really due to the action of light or ra energy of some form, may be easily proved, for when the beam is interrupted by ineans of a dise of some opaque body, thoueh the peforated disc is still rotating, uothing is heard at the receiver. No wires are needed as conductors between the transmitter and the receiver; the beam of light forms the only necessary connection, and this bedin of light, with the simple apparatus described, hus been the means of conveying distinct musical soundsto the distance of morethana mile. Not that even this distance is a necessary limit for there is no reason why the sound should not be carried as. far ‘as the light ean be thrown. We have here, in fact, a musical heliostat, The real cause of the molecular changes accompanying this action of an intermittent beam of light upon different substances is not yet certain: It appears probable, how- ever, that the varying electric resistances of um are directly due to light; whilst, as with the radiometer, radiant heatis prob- ably the real source of those molecular changes which produce the audible vibra- tions of vuleanite and other bodies. Whether, however, it be heat or light which is thé original source of these vibrations, the won- der is equally great; for, if it be heat, the inolecules composing the substances must be cooled and heuted with suflicient rapidity to Tespond to vibrations, of which there nay be many hundreds in ‘a second, ‘Science is howing us that we are only begin- cern the subtler potencies of mat- Mergy, and we find that the goal of to-day becomes the starting-point of fo-mor- Tow, and that a barrier is no sooner reached than it becomes a gateway to new and wider Views of truth. <x RESURRECTED. For The Chicago Tribune. A broken thread of an olden song Theard to-night on a lonely street— A crooning voice, low, soft, and sweet, ‘That carried my heart. by a Buck o'er the years that eras tones had tled so fleet. Back to a night long years ago, When I beard the song in a softened tone; ‘The singer was weary, and old, und alone, And she sung so sadly. so sweetly low: But the song grew still—and the years are flown. As I heard through the chill of the Winter-night The same sweet song in its ebb and flow, Ithought of the white locks under the snow. if a Heaven there be, its fairest light Will fall upon her, { know. AVIS: Hurnicasz Hatr, December, ~~ Gray. “That medicine goes right to the spot, re pete. revives, and curcs.”—A patient on Hop CAMBRIDGE. Student-Life at an English Uni- versity. The Colleges and Their Grounds—How the Undergraduates Are Quartered. Order of the College-Day—Study in the Mornings, Recreation in the Afternoons. The Dinner and the Dining-Hall—Even- ings in ‘‘the Combination Boom.” New York Home Journal. The tourist who can extract anything new and valuable from the beaten roundsof travel in Europe must possess unusual sense or be favored with unusual opportunities. The great throng follow generally a single path, and their itinerarles read much as if made by asingle hand. At intervals appears an indi- vidual who pushes his way into the by-places, eschews all such matters as make up the staple of the guide-books, and sets himself to see things which others overlook. Such a one is Mr. W. W. Nevins, who has just pub- lishea a volume of “Vignets of Travel in England and Italy” (Lippincott & Co.). His yisit to Cambridge is an example of his way of doing things. He goes to the old town, and by the influence of a friend quarters himself in the college buildings, in the un- dergraduate chambers. Ile then begins his observations, which are thus recorded in his note-book. CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY, as I suppose every one knows, is a collection of dependent colleges, each with its own separate government, buildings, grounds, history, and associations. These colleges to- day are seventeen in number, and they make up both the University andthetown. If you will take seventeen silver dollars and half- dollars, and throw them down on a piece of white paper irregularly but rather close to- gether, draw circles with s pencil around each of the coins, and then connect the: circular inclosures by convenient lines indi- eating streets and walks, . you will have a pretty good idea of the plan of Cambridge Town. It is simply a village which has frown up and around the grounds—or what, in Pennsylvania, is called the “campus”—of the several colleges. What first strikes an American stranger with some surprise is the comparatively limited extent of these grounds—the terri- torial plant of the college. In our imagina- tions these colleges—renerable in axe and tradition, and dowered with the associations of centuries—rise in magniticent proportions, and seem to stana in princely domains in glebe and forest, As a matter of fact, the average college at Cambridge or Oxford has not a greater acreage in its grounds than@he average American college; in fact, , HAS NOT SO GREAT. Harvard, I'am sure, has larger grottnds than most of tho English Colleges. So have Princeton and Union, and, 1 believe, Yale. Pennsylvania is already very generously endowed in this respect. Few of the En- alish colleges have grounds equal in extent or in artistic possibilities to those of Jetferson and Washington at Canonsburg, or Franklin | and_ Mar- shall at Lancaster, or the Lehigh at Bethle- hem, or Dickinson at Carlisle, or Lafayette at Easton, or the institution at_Mercersburg, or even of our University of Pennsylvania, planted on costly acresin the built-up streets ofa graat city. All these have greater ad~ vantages in the way of scenery, and room, and possible embellishment, and artistic en- richment of their grounds than the average English college of the two great universitie: Some of the college-buildings here con: of but a single structure, with such grow only as are inclosed in the interior court. On these limited academic fields, however, the consecrated wealth of long centuries has been lavished, under the guidance and direction of the highest art and cultivation of the time. The grounds of some of the larger colleges of Oxford and Cambridge are often laid out with PARK AND LANDSCAPE EFFECTS. such as haye hardly been reached anywhere in our country. Even the smaller ones are carefully dressed and worked, so that an acre or two will often set forth a wonderful study of foliage or hue. And allare crowded wit grand old tombs, moldy, barely-deciferable legends, armorial bearings, monuments of history, the graves of martyrs, statues, arch- es, solemn ruins, memorial! Fatew ays, monu- mental crosses, picturesque cloistérs, and a thousand works of art and ennobling asso- ciations, In the successive architecture of many of these noble edifices, and in the chain of names, and graves, and_ monuments, you can read the history of England from the twelfth century down, > 5 It is this splendid endowment of tradition, this continuous legended memorial of the scholarship and piety of ages, which is TNE WEAETH OF THE ENGLISI COLLEGE. It is the contrast with this which makes our own college life, so far, seem so poor, and thin, and meagre. another disillusion ig the fact that the number of undergraduates in these English colleges does not Giffer materially from the number in ours. This runs from sixty or seventy up through the hundreds, in. some one or two cases touching a thousand, just as in our detached American colleges. It is the massing of these English colleges in one evlumn, and bringing them all under the in- fluences of one another, which gives them their intellectual force in the world of thought. The seventeen colleges of Cam- bridge are not educating any more young men than seventeen isolated American col- leges, but they are as an organized regular army is to a body of loose militia regiments. Now for THE LIFE OF THE UNDERGRADUATE, the only college-life know in our country, My quarters, as I have said, were the ordi- nary suite of chambers of an undergraduate student, absent at the time; and their de- scription will appear rather sumptuous to the American graduate who recalls the two- in-a-sinall-room accommodation of many a good Pennsylvania college., This suite con- sisted of three good-sized chambers, with a small pantry or. closet-room. ‘The main chamber, by which you enter your suite, 1s 0 fine large room about twenty fect square, looking out with three windows on the quadrangle. ae 4n this sitting and reception room are served yout breakfast and luncheon by your own servant; and attached to it is the pan- bry, a capacious closet for thestorage of your table-linen and service, and large enough for s} tired to read, study, or ‘‘miuse.?” your attendant to make a little coffee or tea, wash the dishes, or cook a slight breakfast. Out of this Jarge room open two sinaller ones, ten by fourteen feet, a bed-chamber, and a study or private retiring-room. Each section, or house of six or eight suites, o A WAS ITS OWN SEPARATE SERVANTS, with their own quarters, to whose services each fellow orstudent has equal rights. This staff consists generally of a man and wife or small family, who can, between them, readily cook the breakfasts, prepare the morning baths, brush the clothes, black the boots, and run the errands of the six or eight single gentlemen who form the family. Some of these servants, as is always the case around a college, become quite scholastic in appearance ‘and demeanor. In. Cambridge this male attendant is known as the “ gyp”; in Oxford as the “scout.” The development of the undergraduates’ quarters to the present generous provision illustrates somewhat the progress of social fife and habits during the past century or two, and affords evidence of some curious changes. In early times undoubtedly two ormore students were quartered together. “Chum” is a contradiction of chambermen. It is likely, in remote times, that six students occupied 8 common sleeping-room with three or more beds in it; but even then each one them, as the ancient buildings show, had hig separate little cell, generally opening out of the common bed-chamber, ‘to which he re- From this | habit this little cell become kuown as THE “STUDENT'S MUSEUM.” Here we havo the history of another, world now diverted to quite a different special use. "The change in personal habit_ and fecling made by a few hundred years is quite cu- rious. ‘fhe student of Cambridge to-day would willingly read, write, or study ina common chamber with another man, but he would, under no circumstances, share his | bedroom with him. ‘My rooms look out on either side on pros- the bare wastes of clay, ant .| statesmen, and soldiprs. pects pleasing to the eye, cultivating to the taste, and elevating In association and sug- gestion. On one side they command the classic green quadrangle, all shaven and shorn, with its cloistered arcades, venerable gray tombs, monumental legends, and the ad- monitory walls and columns of gone ages. On the other side of the study and bed- chamber sweep a small stretch of collese park, looking out on gardens with ivy and roses, and a clear little stream in which, from your windows, you. can see the fishes swimming under the crystal waters, and on whose quiet bosom placid ducks and filosofie s\ans live in amity with their finny friends, Wide, roomy seats are built into these win- aoNe, in the pleasant old English fashion, an 5 VERY DELIGHTFUL AND RESTFUL they are when you look out from them,on no- bletrees, charming. gardens, and vistas of leafy boughs, and lake, and meadow. Com- prre this with the brick walls and perhaps, the barren, neglected campus, which form the entourage of a new American school, and leave their painful fotograf on the minds of itg children. On the walls of these rooms hang some good engravings and a small painting, a mounted fox-head and sbrush, a worn horse- shoe, probably from the heels of some tri- fant racer, wi:ips, spurs, crossed oars, some hynting piefures, it Is proper to add that there ire also some books. ‘The suiies of the fellows are geuerally somewhat superior, in accommodation to those of the under- graduates. Life in one of the colleges of an English university is something very different from that of an American college. Intellectually itis something FAN HIGHER AND STRONGER, The undergraduate {fs not the central feature, as with us, but only an incident. The living college is the master and the fellows. The undergraduates are but the younger mem- bers of the academic family and on the threshold of the house—the little children who are seen and not heard.” Aguin, net the least part of the liberal en- dowinent of an English college is -the tradi- tion of social usage and habit which it ¢: rigs down, by force of which any student coming to live within its walls and sharing its life rece’ tho training of a gentleman, aequiring the personal habits and manners which fit him for association with the better classes of society. In the average American college the student leaves either a boor ora gentleman, just.as he entered. In the En- glish college, however, the home for hun- dreds of years of the sons of gentlemen, the habit of lite has become fixed and traditional, and any boy going through it comes out with that as a part of his education. THE DAILY LIFE of the English college resident is simple, and differs from ours distinctively in the cure with which it is arranged to distribute the time for work and exercise or rest, and the ease with which it consequently bears on the in- dividual. The English student attains far higher grade of scholarship than ours; but we never hear of his breaking down of shattered nerves and prostrated brain. Le takes more time, itis true, but saves his body and his head. i: ‘The order of the college day is roughly this: Bathe in your room at Gor? o’cluck; breakfast served in your front chamber at 7 or o'clock; reading until 1 .o’clock p,m when there comes a light lunch in your room, —generally only breadand cheese and strong college ale. Lunch-hour ends absolutely the da: study or work. At this point the whole college—master, fellows, and students—be- takes itself to the open air, and spends the whole afternoon, until Gor 7 o’clock, out of doors, walking, riding, boating, fishing, or at athletic games. Itis here the college-boy buildsghimself up for life. AtTo’clock di ner, and from dinner to bedtime rest. Th is the common schedule of an. ordinary university day. Ihave heard thut there are * reading-men ” who burn the midnight gil far into the night, but I write only of what I have seen. 5 a THE COLLEGE DINNER isan imposing and perhaps the central feat- ure of the daily life at the University. Here, in the great hall, the whole college meets to- gether in pleasant union; and it is, I believe, now the only general meeting of the day, compulsory prayers being abolished except onextraordinary occasions. The hall itself —a survival of the old baronial times of the days of the “‘boar’s head and rosemary ”—is always one of the most striking architectural features of the college build Itis.a fine and lofty room, with arched or fretted or. handsomely-designed roof, the walls adorned with rich paneling and carving, statues, heraldic devices, armorial shields, and old inscriptions, and hung with the portraits of founders and benefactors, Kings, Queens, It is generally oaken, with stone or Wooden floors. Atone end of the great hall, the farthest from the entrance, on a raised surface, is placed. the table of the master and fellows, extending across the room; on the lower level of the floor are tables for the under- graduates, running the leneth of the room, and placed at right angles with the master’s table. All are served AT THE SAME TIME AND ALIKE. When the hour for dinner comes, the master and fel@}vs, with their guests if there are any, assemble in the combinatio *aom,— another fine chamber, of which © 1,— and move from there into the dining-« om. the master leading, The same order o: procession and seating of guests holds as at any gentleman’s table. As the proces- sion froin the combination-room enters the main hall, the undergraduates, who are al- ready seated, rise from their benches and stand as the college passes. When the pro- cession reaches the head of the table one of the students reads or intones a brief Latin prayer, and all seatthemselves. At the close of the meal the same ceremony is repeated, the undergraduates rising and standing at attention as the master and fellows pass out. In Queen's College, Oxford, I believe the summons to dinner is yet blown froma frunipet by. a tabarder; but this is excep- tional. This college dinner, taken thus every day in the academie ancestral hall, in the pres- ence of the effigies of great men and good women, the founders and ancestors of the house, in the midst of historic associations tea, drinks it, and on this extraordinary sleeping-portion goes to bed. Here ends the college day. - THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE. Mentioned for a Cabinet Position. To the Editur of The Chicago Tribune, Curcaao, Dec. 18.—As an old West Virginian, I would like to bring prominently before the public the merits of the Hon. A. W. Campell, of Wheeling, W. Va.,for tho position of a: Cabinet officer under the coming Administration of Gen. Gurtleld. 1am fully aware of the various claims of.a number of promient men to similar posi- tions, also of the ditficuties under which Gen. Garfield must be placed to make a selection sat- isfactory to conilicting elements; but, as the South should be represented, I do notknow of x mun better ttted for such a position, or ¢ man of tiner principles, of stricter intexrity or more” absolute adherence to the doctrines of the party Which elected Gen. Garficla than the Hon. A. W. Cumpbell, of Wheeling, W. Va. REPUBLICAN. Washington Versus Salt Lake City. To the Euitor of The Chicuyo ‘Tribune, Crscaco, Dee. 18.—Do you want to know why so little has been done towards the suppression and eradication of Mormonism? I will tell you. Many of the leading public men, in and out of Congress, ut Washington dare uot tackle the question,—dare not recommend and sustain a rizid enforcement of the laws aguiust pulyxamy, and the Mormon authorities know thig, and, having no fears of being blotted out or even seriously disturbed by the powers at Washing- von, ure currying on the work of proselytism and propngundism to the Morton faith with moré zeal and success than has ever been known. Only the other duy seventeen Mormon Elders ieft Unb for Georgia, Alabama, and other Southern States to make couverts and secure Mormon emigration to Colurado, and scores of Mormon missionuries are scouring the cities and humtets of Europe in quest of converts, who ure dispatched by the ship-load to this country, and I buzurd ‘tho statement that Mormon missionaries are muking converts fuster than all the Protestant missionaries combined. But you want to know why the authorities of Washington—the President excepted—dare not attuck Mormonism, It is from actual personal dread of retaliatory warfure, a wholesome fear of the expusure to public guze of the corrupt private life und morals of some of the most in- fiuentinl men of both parties In Washington. Years ago, In anticipauon of an attack upon their peculiarinstitution, tho Mormon leaders expended a great deul of labor and money in ascertaining all that could be tcarned of the Private life of the Senators, Representatives, and other public men at. Washington. A writ~ ten record has thus been mude and preserved by the Mornon authuritles, who are enabled whenever the Hon. Se-and-So- rises to denounce polygamy, to turn to the alum and tind theirdefumer is Himself a dissipated man— gambler, drunkurd, scducer, or may be the Keeper of one or wore mistresses. It is well known at Washington—and us much bas been intimated or threntencd—that whenever a gen- eral onslaught is mudo upon Mormonism to crush it, this dreadful weapon now puised above the heads of the leading Washington familics will be allowed to full, exposing the bousebold skeletons of 2 corrupt Capital. The Mormons claim that open polygamy under Bible sanction is far preferable to combined monogamy and mistressism, und it will be time enough for Con- gressiunal frequenters of houses of ill-fumne to denounce polygumy whon they have cust off the cloak of licentiousness. ux Old John Brown. To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune. . Carcaco. Dee. 17.—Thanks for your manly, ringing editorial of to-day rebuking tho Missouri Senators—especially Vest—for the cowardly ut- terances against the memory of old “Osawa- tomioe Brown.” ‘The writer of this was in conversation with Gov. Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, when the telc- gram announcing John Brown’sraid on Harper's Ferry was handed to the Governor. —- After reading it, old **Gizzard Foot” leaned || back in his chair, chewed nervously the quid of tobacco which seemed a part of himself, and, while the suliva trickled down tne corners of bis mouth and corrugated his shirt front, enid: “Kend this—can you understand it?" handing me the dispatch. Tread: ‘The telegram stated that John Brown, with an unknown force, supposed to be bout 500, bad entered and taken possession ot Hurper’s Ferry, and then held the ursenul, the rifle-works, an the bridge across the Potomac;: that Maryland Heights were also occupied by his forces, and that speedy aid must be sent or: Virginia would be overrun with Pennsylvania Abolitionists, who were reported as comingin large force from Chambersburg. I quote from memory orfy, but this is almost literal. It was impressed ppon my mind so deep- iy I nm not In error in the sense if 1 may beina word or two, While’ reading, Gov. Wise began to write. His telegrams were first to the Sheriff at Chazles- town, others to Winchester,and I belive the third to* Roger A. Pryor at Petersburg, Va. Pryor was then a Captain of a military company —one of the most noted in Petersburz. As the afternoon wore on scores of telegrams came jn, each one intensifying, if possible, the previous one. - A telegram from Cumberland, Md.. some three hours ufter the first news of the raid was received gaye the Governor.an.extra study. I did not sce it, as he crumpled it in his hang and held it, but he said: * Why, this John Brown is playing Coeur de Lion—be attacks the world single handed—he must be a lunatic, or braver than Cvesur!” Luccompanied the Governor next morning to Harper's Ferry; saw the defeat of *Osawato- mie,” his arrest and removal to Charlestown, his trial. and his exgeution, and I knew he was not a Iunatic—be was simply braver than Caesar! I saw him die on the scufold,and bis eye never blenched as he looked around upon armed and unmoved throng, here and there a black face with pitying tears, but in the white faces only a mortal butred; bere and there one in whose heart lived the knowledge that Joho Brown died to make men free. He did it—his soul is marching on: it will march while Auericu holds Freedom dear. LIvVinGsToN GRAHAME, The Butter Fraud. To'the Editor of The Chicago Tribune. CricaGo, Dec. 18.—I noticed Festerday a card di splayed at the door of a retail zrocery on the West Sido having theso words—“ We got our butter from the country.” The object of the groceryman was, doubtless, to assure his cus- tomers that the butter he sells is real butter, and not the stuff manufactured here. ‘The communication from Gultt, Bulkley &Co., of Whitewater, Wis., in Tnx TraBune, robs the grocery-keeper of the benefit of his assurance, since he can now understand that butter from “the country *may have been sent from such and venerable traditious, is the DRESS-PARADE OF UNIVERSITY LIFE. The dinner, asI should have said before, is the ordinary solid English evening meal of four or five cqurses,—a soup, 2 fish, roast meat and vegctables, a salad, and dessert. Ale is served the undergraduates on allow- ance, I believe. On the master’s tables there are generally wines,—ih some colleges on allowance, at others ordered at cost prices. ‘The Englishman, however, generally always drinks a huge flagon or tankard of ale with his wines, sometimes before and sometimes after. Itseems always to be in place to the British stomach. The college cellars, I need hardly add, are most excellent; tradition does its work kindly and gently even here, and one generation takes care of the next. Dinner over, the undergraduates are dis- missed to their rooms, while the master and lows retire to “the combination-raom,”? ere over their coffee and after-dinner wines the evening is spent in conversation and discourse. THE COMBINATION-ROOM is 2 spacious chamber, large enough usually to accommodate forty to sixty men, in solid old-fashioned arm-chairs. with tables, rests, screens, and stools. It. is also hung.with memorial paintings of benefactors, masters, factories as the * Brooker Datry Company, Chi- to be brought back branded “Fine or* Lawrence Creamet or any other lying brand, ‘Tho circular which you published of the Brooker Dairy Company assures us that no one can detect the presence of the ingre- dignts used in the manufacture of thelr stuff, butitisno secret that a large part—provably the largest part—is not the product of the cow, but of the hog. Fi I must confess I lack such a knowledge of the English language as would enable me to find words to adequately express my indignation at this hitest udulteration of human food, ‘The proprictors of the Brooker Dairy Company em- phasize their redo; mmendation “by saying that “The most eficiens: experts tn the butler trade say they cannot tell it from the genuine butter,’—which means they have so adroitly disguised the bog’s. fat and other Ingredients, besides the nmount of real butter used in the manufacture, that even aJew, with his keen scent for the proscribed, unclean beast, will swallow their oleoginous conglomeration with alacrity. And this perfee- tion of the artof cheating leaves the most un- scrupulous of the children of Isruel far in tho rear. itisclaimed by derlers that the stuff asit comes from the factories is branded “ Butter- ine,” so that no one need be deccived: but who cannot sce how easy it is for the party who buys to scll_again tu erase Butterine” and subdsti- tute“Fine dairy” or “Creamery? I recently purchased a tub branded “Fine dairy,” be- distinguished “fellows” who have passed out into the world and become statesmen, Cardinals, Generals, writers, martyrs, or won fame in any wat Every old college has its gallery of these its honored child- ren, and_ they are among its chivfest treas- ures. The room itself quickly becomes a centre of interesting association and aca- demic tradition, In our combination-room at Emmanuel, for instance. more ‘than 100 years azo. D: unuel Johnson was a fre- quent visitor; and the spot where.he always sat, just to the leftof the warm chimney- place as you face it, ig pointed out asa tra- dition to<day, and the broad chairs we sat in this year were the same used then, It was in. the_combination-room of Oriel College, when Keble, and Whateley, and Newman, and Arnold, and Pusey were fellows, that THE CELEBRATED “TRACTAKIAN” MOVE- MENT took its start. The fellows of-a college in residence at times may be only eight or ten, when, of course, this room is too large; but the little groups gather in the gloating of the fire- piace, and the effect of the shadows around them advancing or retreating into the dark recesses of the spacious wails is very ple- ing assured it was real dairy butter from Wisconsin. Since reading the ‘circular of the Brooker Dairy Company, 1 don’t feel sure E have not been victimized myself. The suspicion is quite enough to dull my appetite for my bread and butter, The possibility of my swallowing the vile mixture of bog's fat and I know not what other nauseating ingredients, under the fiction that It is butter, calls for = cataing of expletives of which our mother tongue is lack- ing. [bope ever editor in the land will not cease to denounce this new swindle. i Adulteratfon has become the giant evil of our times. We shall ‘soon be unable to get any- thing to eat whieh has not suffered from tho en- pidity of consciencbless scoundrels. : AGrIcoLA. Ventilating Sewers by the Man-Holes. To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune. Cuicaco, Vee. 18.—In your editorial on sewer- gas {a last Sunday's Trruuxe you say: “Tho poisonous emanations from the sewers, how- ever, cun be prevented by three very simple Precautions, which, if observed, will almost en- tirely remove any possibility of danger.” “First, the street-sewers should be thoroughly venti- lated with man-holes, which will give vent for the poisonous gases, which aretrequently forced, turesaue, Wax candles, | may say here, with their antique Tilglous light, are en régle Ina well-regulated old combination-room, gas be- ing too modern and shoddy. A solemnly stately butler, with white hair and portly, judicial air, fs also an indispensable prop- erty. Smoking, I believe, is not customary in the coinbination-room,—the fellows, who retire at their convenience during the evening, o- ing to their-own chambers, singly: or-in squads, for a pipe or. cigar. At 11 or 12 the English university man brews a pot of hot back by auy rise in the sewer-currents, or by strong winds foreing the discharges back’ through the mouths of the sewer-openings.” This man-hole ventilation was put in opera- tion in 1679. From tong experience in trying to prevent sewor-gns from escaping in the houses that Ihave lived in, I was thoroughly aroused -when I found that the.sewers were to be venti- duted in our streets. I sent you a communica- tion, which you published May 31,1879. My fears were von realized by the ventilited man-holes on Wabash avenue. When the wind was in the northeast or cust my house, No. 167 Wabash avenue, was filied with cas if the windows were 1 Open. J bad Jearucd bow to keep the sower-gas 1 out of my house by properly tra s and plumnving-works. ‘The errengean comers that blows does not-blow a bubba og Mt from the iain sewer into the sewer in tay foe and would not Into any other bouse it ie ma properly trapped. After enduring and sutfe, ae rom these upen erates for several monte learned that Mr. Wuller was replacing them ei) solid covers where requested to doxo. Lashed ar once to have the one near my residence © Placed with a solid cover. ‘This was done ee Very soon after L ubserved ‘that on Wabash wet nue. from a little distaneesouth of Admesa es to tho river every one was covered with eats cover. Experience has put its seal on this et gerous experiment, and bundredsof there teat, dealing, pestilential mouths have been closed, ‘There is a great lack of proper trappinz in. stores and business blocks. With all there poo titul aad substantial apartments and) ORs there 1s in too many of them # cunstant lee of sewer-gas, Every urinal and wast ness shoud have a safe-trap immediately unde t where it can bo sven, so thit the positive evidence that it is there, °°UPa2t has Persons who have to remain at thelr wor early and late in the stores or offices that are fected ure in great danger of losing their beara and even their lives. Ourcity issuid to bere healthiest large city In the world, and qf 22 pro! fi yell means eile vigorously cur ried into effect, our mortality rates w} greatly diminished, : HH be suit s Tam writing this my attentio : “The Mayor. After Sewer-Gas" tn targa oxF. of Dec. 4, The Busor 1s also infarct ventilating the publicsewers, a3 has heretoroet been noted, through open min-hole covers here again himself. Cot. Eliers. and De. De Wore agree, und ta the spring this idea sto be puen oe I occupy five stories and basement ‘in the Williams fuilding. Should tho sewer again ts ventilated by open grates in this vicinity fortes safety of the lives and health of ms fwnily srg paticrts, I should have to leave this locality, 133 not apprebend that the Wabush avenue sewer in, this loculity will bo gurged so long us itis pe erly covered and constantly flushed, as 1 ney s, by the pure luke water tlowing into it trem, the many hydraulic elevatora. = Nt VIRTUES OF GEMS, Whe Medicinal and Other Powers of Precioux Stones, In both the Greek and the Roman writers there are endless references to the curative power of precious stones, From many of the allusions it appears that the dictates of fashion here, as everywhere else, had much influence over the prevalling belief in the yir. tue of particular stones, now one and now another being held upas specially efficacious for the cure of certain diseases. Thus, while the, “crystal” and the “adamas” stood for a long timeamong the Greeks at the head of medicinal agents, that position was afterward assumed by the “sardins,” or the Oriental carnelian. “No other stone,” records Pliny, ‘ was so great a favorit with the Greeks as this, and the plays of Menander and.of Pailemon abound in allusions to it.” The cause of this favoritism lay probably in the facility with which the carnelian could be cut by the engraver, the dull red flesh-col- ored stone offering by itself no other attrac- tions. Such engraved stones, either in the form of intaglios or of cameos, constitute to some extent an epoch in the history of gems, as it modified the original idea of stones being possessed of inherent virtues. To this came now to be added the conception that these powers might be raised or changed by pictures and inscriptions from the hand of: the engraver. The current of ideas that Jed to the en- eraving on precious stones is very clearly sketched out by Camillo Lionardo, an Italian writer of the fifteenth century, himself a firm believer in the power of “charms” and “amulets.” Taking up the argument that the ancient Greeks and Romans, following in the footsteps of the Eeyptians and Persians, were perfectly reasonable in attaching value to engraved stones, Lionardo goes on tosay: “ All things in Nature have a certain form, and are subject to certain influences. So, also, precious stones, being natural produc- tions, have a prescribed form, -and as such are subject to the universal influence of the planets. Hence, if these stones be engraved ya skillful person, undér some particular influence, they receive a special virtue, as if they had been endowed with additional power through that engraving. And should it happen that the power intended by the en- graying be the same as that of the natural quality of the stone, its particular virtue will be doubled, and thereby its efficacy greatly augmented.” ‘The ancient writers give us numerous pre- scriptions as to the proper use and applica- tion of engraved stones. It is nota little curious to observe many of the rules laid down tor the employment of various “charms.” Thus, “aram or a bearded man’s head [the god Ammon) engraved on sapphire will protect the wearer from all infirmities, from poison, and from oppression.” An en- graved beryl, “with the dragon in front, ‘has power to evoke the water spirits and force them to speak; and it will also call up the dead of your acquaintance, obliging them to answer your questions.” Another Greek writer lays it down thatastone engraved with a design showing “a man with along face and beard, his .eyebrows raised, sitting behind a plow, and holding up a foxcand a vulture, with four men lying upon his neck,” will, “when placed under your head while sleeping, make you dream of treasures, and the right way of discovering them.” There were most remarkable virtues in another ° kind of cut stone, representing Hercules and Jove, “Man seated, and a woman standing before him with her hair hanging down loose on her back, the man looking up to her; this cut on carnelian has the vir tue that whoever is touched therewith shall be led to dg the owner’s will immediately.” And again, as related by Lionardo: “Man with a wand in his hand, seated on an eagle, engraved on hepheestitis (carbuncle), orcrys- tal, which stone must be set in a copperring; whosoever looks upon it on a Sunday, before sunrise, shall have victory over ali his ene- mics, and if he looks upon it on a Thursday all men shall obey him willingly. But be must be clothed in white, and alptain from eating pigeon.” Highly recommended was another gem engraving upon “chalce- donius,” so called from being met with in copper mines near the City of Chalcedon. We learn that “a goat engraved on chalce- doniug leads to amass wealth: keep this in thy money-box, and thou art certain to get rich.” It issad to record that the ancient chalcedonius, frequently referred to by Pliny, is nd more found, the mines of Chalcedon having become exhausted more than a thou- sand years: Bz0. The stone now going by the name of chalcedony is an agathe-onyx, ly allled to, and searcely to be distinguished from, the LIungarian opal. ‘The faith in engraved stones as constituting “charms * and * amulets ” flourishes, a3 is well known, nearly as vigorously in the East at the present day as it did in ancient Greeco and Rome, and.is not extinct even in Europe. ‘There are few potentates in Asia and Africa who have not around their neck, mostly pressed against the heart. some_gem tgypro- tect them against evil. The late King FFanc! IL ot Naples wore constantly a necklet made up of engraved “amulets,” supposed, to similar in virtue to the Greek stone with the inan on the eagle, which conferred © victory overall enemies.” ‘fo these “ charms” bis Majesty trusted to the very Iast,—until, itis to be supposed, Gen. Garibaldi had driven him from home and throne. ‘Throughout Spain and Italy there exists, among the lower classes, full faith in * amulets,” especially in such as adorn the statues of the Madonnaand the favorit saints. In the rest of Europe ft belief met its death-stroke in the advent o! Protestantisin. However, it is: related by Vaughan, Bishop of Chester, that Queen Elizab iN cured, by touch, serofnlous de, eases * by virtue of some precious sto Jonging-to the Crown of England that por sessed this miraculous gift.” This was ev dently still the belief in’ Queen’ Elizabeth's time, though itis more than doubtful whether the strongly-ininded Royal lady shared It ————— A KEEPSAKE. For The Chicago Tritune. Forget thee? When the sun forgets to shed bis lg at li gre eet ‘When all of life lies hidden in the sitenco of the tom Thoul'’t be forgotten! Forget thee? ewhen 1 have forgot the dearest spot on Earth; 3 =f When Sfem'ry holds no thought of her who, dy is. AVE me birt! forge thee? Witten chess ps refuse to breathe ie name you beur; When this hoare bas forgotten all the hope thas nestled there— ‘Thout't be forgotten! Forget thoee Nol When quict of the ev'nina" jour has come: When ‘neutty the, jeweled robo of Night the penceful world ties dum! mid Thoughts. Geoper, purer, truer, than come day! t's elare, Of thee rit thro" my mem'ry, soothing a & mother's prayer. x ‘Thout't be remembered! Tan MApLis. ‘Owes M. WISO® ie The land of the free is the home of thee ied use Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup. Price 0