The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 21, 1896, Page 24

24 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUN E THAT INFANT ARTIST OF FOLSOM STREET. Little . Emile Crapuchette Awoke Last Monday to Fame. Kind-Hearted People Who Read “The Sunday Call” Showered Gifts Upon Him. Now He Has Paints and Pencils and Crayons Galore, and Time to Follow His Bent. Emile Crapuchette, artist, aged 4 years, awoke last Monday morning to find him- self famous. THE SuxpaY CArL had told his story to the world, and the baby genius who for months had been scratching up the whitewashed walls of the Folsom-street laundry with outlines of bird and beast and human being, the little boy whose pa- rents could afford him neither pencil nor paper and whose natural bent was at length discovered when he chose the side- walk for a studio; Emile, who was with- out patrons or friends in his pursuit of art; who had so long had no one to watch his patient efforts except the fuzzy-coated dog that he had caricatured; the infantile art- ist awoke to find himself no longer bound down by restrictions of poverty that had ceemed to bar the way to an otherwise certain celebrity. THE Suspay Cait had told all about the discouraging conditions that surround him and had ventured the remark that, if Emile Crapuchette could accorded a fraction of the advantages that had been enjoved by Charles Dana | is childhood, the San Fran- at 20 years of age would out- man sibson in h o prodi n the field of illustration charmed the coun pen- s of the typical American girl. And if Emile Crapuchette lives to see a day when his work with pen or crayon or brush shall demand high figures on the for directing the public eye to bim at the dawning of bis career and putting him on the road to success. Never were there such large gatherings n front of the French laundry at 1007 Fol som street as on Monday 1 Never had so many inquiries been made concerm the bab; Mme. Crapuchette cannot read gli: but & neighbor translated for her the story in THE CALL, and madame ran and snatched up her little son and almost smothered him with s and Really, Mme. Cra ette had eciated Emile’s peculiar gifts wspaper conveved to her the lligence that her son was an Ten days ago the madame would to a band of loiterers p the entrance to smiles approving the patronizing looks of the ested witnesses of her son’s etchings. and the 1 the crowd the more pleased she appears. But there is further cause for pleasure than the mere gathering of the curiously inclined. Emile's story bad been read in homes of plenty, with the result that on Monday morning gifts from generous and kind hearts came pouring in. Last Monday was to Emile something akin to what 3 aas is to fortunate children, who caresses. never ap 1 the n unti int blockin Now at she dry. and make the day memorable. Ten days ago Emile Crapuchette had 1o pencil nor paper. All he had was some Ik and some charco: The iittle artist was poor then. You shouid see his pos- sessions now. He is the richest boy on Folsom street and the most envied. Be- fore Mme. Crapuchette had a customer to head the list of the week a liveried driver sprang down 1rom the seat of a handsome carriage and glancing up at the laundry number walked right in and found Emile <ing pictures on the floor. 've found him, I guess, the coachman, and he laid a fine big box on the child’s knees. ‘‘That’s for the art- ist; paints, I think.” Before Mme. Crapu- chette could peek into the box and thank the stranger he had said good-day and Lis ho were trotting away in ga The box had paints in p and brushes coarse and fine, and tiny bowls in which to mix the paints, and it was all so nice and rich-looking that mother and son could hardly believe their eyes. One after another came messengers from this family and that family, and one brought paper and one brought drawi books; another left a package of colored crayons; another a parcel of drawing- pencils; and when the day was done Emile had supplies enough to stock a small art-store. Mme. Crapuchette was compelled to give up a whole shelf to Emile’s bundles and boxes of precious things. On Wednesday a numerous party of French people called to see the boy won- der and one of the party brought along a copy of the French paper and delighted mounsieur and madame with a reading of Tae CALL's article asit was translated into | the native tongue of Emile’s parents. Ten days ago Emile was kept busy for hours peeling potatoes and scraping car- rots and shelling peas. Now the boy’s parents allow him to make pictures dur- ing all the time he desires from morning till night. Last Thursday the crowd was so great in front of the laundry that the fat police- man on the beat in the neighborhood, catching sight of the throng jrom a dis- tance, concluded that a small riot was brewing. At double-quick pace he bore down on the assemblage, and, drawing his club, he forced his way into the center of the crowd to find that all eyes, so far as possible, were bent on a baby figure draw- ing pictures on the sidewalk. Emile was giving a public exhibition. “Gangway here, gentlemen,” yelled the officer. The crowd swayed a little, but didn’t move along very far. “And so you're the cause of all this businass, are you?” cried the policeman, whose idea of art was probably confined to the artof swinging a club. Emile looked up, smil- ingly, and pointed to the locomotive sketched in crayon in front of him. “The walk’s dirty enough without you making it worse,” exclaimed the cultured man in blue and brass, and with that he gathered Emile under his arm end carried him into thelaundry. Then the fatenemy of art and imperious ruler of the walk stcod like a Roman sentinel against the laundry door till the crowd, being de- prived of the late source of its amusement and pleasure, had gradually dispersed Jeaving the champion of a tyrannic law the gloating master of thesituation. But that policeman is having plenty of ath- letic exercise, and it is safe to ket, he may thank that Sunday article | the laun- inter- beautiful surprises to gladden them | exclaimed | ing That Little Emile Crapuchette Wa Had Gathered to See the Babe and the The Policeman on Folsom Street Who Objected to the Free Exhibitions of Draw- s Giving on the Pavement. Crowds Policeman Had to Force a Gangway. | wager that, after another week of racing| | and chasing to keep the sidewalk clean in | | front of 1007 Folsom street, only to find | | another crowd there after he has paraded | | around the block, he will let his mouth in- | | form his ear that peaceful art cannot be downed, even though so mighty a power s & policeman be on its trail and though its representative be onlv a chiid of 4. Since Thursday Emile has been caricatur- ing the kettle-hatted officer in one of his drawing-books, and by raising laughter among his numerous visitors at the ex- | pense of the fleshy limb of the law he is getting even for the policeman’s unasked assistance that is mentioned above. Emile Crapuchette has now every ad- vantage but a teacher; but there is plenty of time for that. He has a dozen elegant picture-books from which he copies the pictures in his drawing tablets. Thanks to THE Suxpay Cary, Emile Crapuchette is now a favored son of fortune. It is just as if a good fairy had brought him a won- derland of things he longed for and satis- fied his wishes. Not only that—Emile has been the means of greatly increasing | the lanndry trade of his parents. Madame | Crapuchette made so much money last | week that yesterday she bought herself a | pink summer dress as pretty as a fashion- plate, and Monsieur Crapuchette has | thrown off on the brown-paper cigarette |and is smoking nothinz cheaper than | NG ROD | | THAT HAS A HISTORY. Made by William Murphy of New York and Now Owned by Alex- | ander T. Vogelsang. | \ONE FISHI | One of the most valuable fisbing-rods in the United States is now in the posses- sion of Alexander T. Vogelsang, the sec- retary of the San Francisco Fly-casting | Club. TIts worth lies not only in 1ts his- | toric association, but in its market value | as well. William Murphy of New York | | | was the original split bamboo maker, and even the famous Leonard, who was Mur- phy’s pupil in this art, has not excelled the rods made by his teacher. | .About forty years ago Murphy made the | rod in question for General Hancock, and | many a pleasant day did the old war vet- | eran spend with this piece of property whipping the streams of the Adirondacks and Catskill Mountains. He made use of the rod the last time during the campaign in which he ran against James A. Garfield. After the death of General Hancock the rod passed into the handsof Philip Mc- 3hane of the Occidentai Hotel, this City, and upon his death it was purchased by | Luke Donnelly. When the latter died the rod fell into the hands of Fish Commis- | sioner Emeric, who purchased it from the | Donnelly estate. Since then Judge Hunt, W. W. Foote and many otbher lovers of the | art of angling have cast envious eyes upon | that rod, but they did not even bid for it, thinking that money could not purchase it. In this they were correct, but a short | time ago Mr. Emeric, in a burst of gen- erosity, presented the notable rod to Mr. Vogelsangz. The rod originally was probably valued at about $40, but since there are so few Murphy-Leonard rods on i the market, this one with 1ts historic asso- ciations, is worth fully ten times that amount, and it is doubtful if such a sum would tempt the present owner. SHE'S THE RICHEST WIDOW ON EARTH. The Relict of Baron Hirsch Will Have One Hundred and Thirty Mil- lion Dollars. Baron Hirsch’s French executor, M. Dietz, is to receive £4000 a year for five | years for his trouble. M. Dietz’s task will | | be to see to the recovery of secured und | unsecured loans, and to effect realizations | so that Baronmess Hirsch will have no trouble in managing her vast fortune. | When legacies are paid she will be worth, | it is said, about £26,000,000, that is, if the | greater part of the baron’s investments prove sound. There is a legacy of £40,000 to an adopted | daughter, who is to be brought up by a | guardian away from her mother. The adopted sons are left estates in Austria and Hungary. The Paris correspondent of the Daily News understands that the debts due by society people come to an in- | credibly large sum, and that perhaps one- half the vouchers for the money lent by the baron have not yet been brought to duc covering more than a million, -are said by some to have been destroyed; but a relative of Mme. Hirsch (writes the repre- sentative of Truth in the French capital) thinks this unlikely. The baron did not believe in gratitude and was prone to keep papers that con- firmed him in his incredulity. His death was caused by a terrible fit of anger at finding he had made a fearfully bad bar- gain 1n purchasing the estate on which he wanted to build a grand residence. Snakes, frogs, fevers were its chief natural pro- It turned out to be incurably marst He had bought without first in- pecting it himself, and, acting on the word of an agent, ordered the house to be built according to the plans he had ap- proved. Oneso rich as he was could not have taken greatly to heart the money loss. But what he could not endure was feeling that he had been taken in Baron Hirsch was like the celebrated Fouquet in giving splendid gifts and pen- sions to society notabilities. We are told that the mother-in-law of a defunct Or- leanist duc loses a pension of £5000. She is a clever woman, though she began life as reader to a Polish count She has played a part in international politics and finance. Through the duc she was a graet card during the MacMahonate. s PEerrorMance.—From be unguestionable REMARKABLE Y¢ what held to authority comes another of those weird is tales of magical performance. ‘‘We are indebted to the kindness of the learned President of the Adi Brahmo Samaj vs the chronicler of this authority, “for the following accounts of two Yogis, of | whom one performed the extraordinary feats of raising bis body by will power, | and keeping it suspended in the air with- | out visible support. “The Yogi posture for meditation or concentration of the mind upon spiritnal things is called Asana. There are varions of these modes of sitting, such as Pad- masan, etc., ete. Babu Pajnarain Bose translated this narrative from a very old number of the Fatwabodhini Patrika, the Calcutta organofthe Barahmo Samaj. The writer was Babu Akkhaya Kumar then editor of the Patrika, of whom Babu Rajnarain speaks in the following high terms: ‘A very truth-loving and painstak- ing man; very fond of observing strict ac- curacy in the details of a description.” “A'few years ago a Deccan Yogi named Sishel was seen at Madras b dus and Englishmen to raise his asana, or seat, up into the air. His whole body was seated in air, only his right hand lightly touching a deerskin rolled up in the form of a tube and attached to a brazen rod which was firmly stuck into a wooden board resting on four legs. In thi tion the Yogi used to perform his japa mystical meditation) with his eyes half shut. . | day. Dalta, ! many Hin- | posi- | | BAIRD ON JUMPING AND HURDLING, |Practice With a Skipping- Rope and the Spring- Board. ; iTo Acquire Style It Is Well to | Take Lessons From the | Cat. [ Only Tall Men Become Great Side | Jumpars—Try the Straight Leap Persistently. | | | | | | | | | | 1 \ | | We come now to jumping. Between | | sprint running, hurdling and jumping | | there is a very close affinity. I could | quote the names of short-distance runners | who have won championships at 100-yard | running and broad jumping on the same In 1878 Wilmer won the 100, 220 and | broad jump in New York. In 1883 Ford | captured the high and broad. In 1884 he took the 100 and broad. In 1885 and 1886 he took the 100, and broad. In four successive years he won nine champion- | ships of America in these four events. In | 1889 he again captured the long jump. I | would add that he was one of the best | | hurdlers of his time and in the champion- | ship of 1834 was barely beaten in the 120. | J. 8. Voorhees won the championship | at the broad jump in 1880 and 1881,and 1| | have seen him run 100 yards close to 10 | seconds. Many of my readers have seen | our own Schefferstein win two sprint races | and a broad jump on the same day at the | Coast Chamvionships. These are instances | enough to demonstrate that there is a | strong affinity between sprint running, hurdle racing and jumping. It is a fact, | however, that high jumping and hurdling | require closer application than the others. | | A man who would be a first-class high jumper or hurdler must stick to that work alone, while a sprint runner will not be affected by doing some broad jumping occasionally. Two great things are required in jump- | ing—elasticity of muscle and style. Aside from the natural gift a person should pre- pare for his real work by leaps on the springboard with moderation, or even with skipping-rope—both of which are excellent exercise and are practiced to a greater or | | less extent by many great jumpers. | | let us now treat particularly of high | jumping. This is one of the noblest | branches of athletics and well repays the most earnest study and practice. A high jumper can display himseli to advantage | at a race meeting, in the gymnasium, on the stage, on the lawn—in short at times | and places when the runner, hurdler, and | | even his brother, the broad jumper, would | be decidedly out of place. Were I to take up high jumping the first thing I would do would be to get a half- grown kitten, playful and intelligent, and teach him to leap. If one would watch W. B. Page clear 6 feet 4 inches he would at once conclude that the great jumper had taken lessons from a cat, so wonderfully feline were his movaments. The proper method to pursue in jump- ing is as follows: Place the bar at about four feet, or at such a height that you are sure that you cgn clear it without effort. | Stand off about thirty feet, directly in | front of the center of the stick. Begin slowly and advance about ten feet with | short steps. The next ten feet quicken the step and lengthen the stride. This will bring you within ten feet of the bar at @ fair pace. Now let out with ail speed, advance straight toward the bar, and when you arrive within about three feet | strike on your right foot, going over fac- ing a bare trifle to the left—only a trifle— advancing your left foot. Now unless you are accustomed to it this may seem some- EMILE CRAPUCHETTE, Artist, Aged 4 Years, Who, Since the Story of His Won- derful Skill in Drawing Appeared in “The Sunday Call” of Last Week. Received Many Pre sents of All Sorts of Artists’ Materials From Stranger: as what awkward, but do not let this bother | you. | I want to impress one thing upon the | would-be jumper, even if I impress noth- | ing else: Do not run sidewaysat the bar and throw one leg over after another. Un- | less you are a tall man "you will never be- | come a great jumper, and even if you are | tall you will not attain to as great a height | as you will if you persistently practice the ‘ straight leap. In all the range of my ex- | perience I have never known a man to | jump his own height by any method but | the straight leap. After you have jumped four feet place the bar a little higher, according to the ease with which you clear it. In making your leaps learn to keep the feet well to- gether, the leit a trifle in advance, and twist the back. Jumping requires a very strong and flexible back, capable of endur- | ing a great amount of violent contortions. This does not mean to bend the back lixe the contortionist in the circus, however. ‘When you have reached four feet six (in some cases five feet) you will begin to make quite an exertion. At about this | point you must realize that the real work lies with yourself; you must be the one to practice, to study and to persevere. While there is no question about the | importance of the legs in jumping, still there is much importance attached to the armus, In this regard two things must be considered: First, that the arms make up considerable of the weight ot the body and have got to be carried over the bar by the strength of the legs, consequently they must be made as light as possible. Second, the arms can bear a very important part in getting the jumper over the bar suc- cessfully. s you approach the bar on the run and strike the right foot, see that the right arm hangs rather low. The left hand should be about the height of the chin. you force yourself from the ground th the right foot jerk vour right hand upward and forward, pulling the left downward and backward. This will give you a great impetus; and as you rise in the air throw your head backward—not so violently as to sprain your neck or throw you off your balance, but to assist you in getting your hips over the bar. Once over do not spoil your jump by touching it with your elbows. the back of the neck or some other awkward fashion. Landing, too, should be studied if you de- | sire to be graceful; for if there is anything | awkward it is to see a magnificent leaper | fall all in a heap. Some twist as they drop | and land facing the bar; others fall pre- | senting their sides; but the majority, per- | haps, reach the ground with their. backs | to the wood or with a slight turn. After | all, though, the first proposition is to get | over the bar, and the landing should be a | secondary matter. If you find that you cannot leap high and land gracefully the | only thing to be done is to take the matter philosophically and reflect that we cannot be great in everything. Here is an extract from a description of ‘W. B. Page, one of the greatest high leap- ers that ever lived: The feature of the games was the marvelous W e 7 7 - 7 OWEN AND JASON BROWN, THE SONS OF THE OLD ABOLITIONIST, AND THEIR CABIN IN THE MOUNTAINS light. TheI O U’sof a royal personage, ABOVE PASADENA, jumping of Page. This student of the U. P. is 5 feet 7 inches high, very compact, and of shapely butld. His record (in 1884) is 6 feet 1 inches, and he very nearly exceeded this on the present occasion. As a matter of fact he clears his own height four and one- balf inches, and in the previous games five and one-quarter inches. He runs at the bar with a series of bounds that denote great muscular power and elasticity. Arriving at the mark he doubles up and strikes his right heel on the ground; then with a powerful action of the toes forces himself in the alr, twists likea cat and whips himself over the stick with a sharp movement that is very | striking. | Now as to the running broad jump. This exercise is not so complicated as the | running high jump. The iatter requires | close application and assiduous study, but | | the leap under consideration is much sim- | pler. It is to this reason I attribute the | fact that so many sprinters are successful | broad jumpers. If they were compeiled to devote the time and energy to it thata | high jumper must they would not care to | undertake it in addition to their running. A properly laid path for long jumping | should be about twenty yards. At the end of this path is the block, which isa pie of scantling, sunk acsoss and level with the course. Beyond this the earth is shoveled away and a soft spot dug up fif- teen to twenty feet from the take-off. | Stand at the upper end of the path and start toward the scratch slowly, but in- | crease the pace at every stride. On reach- | ing the block strike it with one foot, | | leap in the air and alight in a stooping | pesition, but do not fall backward. Ifyon | were to lose your balance and sit down in | the dirt, or even place a hand behind to | save yourself, you will be measured from | | those points. | Then you try again: and this time you | overstep the mark, plant your foot in the | dirt, at which the stupid officials shake | their heads and call it a ‘‘foul.” By this time you are in a humor to thrash a po- liceman if he were to speak to you, when | something happens to divert your atten- tion. 1 A young man in athletic attire steps out, | and by the buzz that arises you conclude | he must be some distineuished jumper. | At his request the officials measure off a | | certain distance—say twenty feet—and at | | this point he places a handkerchief by the | | side of the path, with one point projecting | aninch or so into the course. The new- | | | where hundreds of THE GRAVE OF 0L0 JOHY BROWN'S SOI It Lies Above the San Ga- briel Valley and Over- looks Pasadena. Owen and Jason Brown Lived in the Mountains and Were Guides to Tourists. Uncle James Townsend, a Venerable Quaker, Knew Them Both Well end Their Father. Overlooking and about 1000 feet above the San Gabriel Valley, rcsting in the shadow of the Sierras, is an abrupt and conical-shaped hillock which history has made sacred ground. Here beneath a pine tree lies all that was mortal of Owen Brown, son of “Ossawattomie John.”, A few rods farther up the mountain- side, on another prominence, there stood until recently a little cabin which was the home for several years of Owen Brown and his brother Jason. Here in a quiet, | unassuming way, sometimes acting as | guides to mountain tourists, the brothers, who in earlier days had been accustomed | to lives of great activity and exciting | scenes of bloodshed, passed several years | in comparative seclusion. | Butfew lives bave been more full of thrilling incidents than Owen Brown's. | He was with his father in most of his Southern expeditions which were under- taken for the rescue of slaves from bond- age; also in the Kansas and Missouri | raids, and was one of the survivors of the | culmination at Harpers Ferry. To listen to his recital of their escape was as th ing and much more interesting than | stories of the most daring of fictitious | heroes. | Residents of Pasadena knew these broth- | ers as men whose personal appearance | was unassuming in the extreme, ever | seeking to allay rather than perpetuate the feelings engendered by the war. Their generous, forgiving spirits were exempli- fied in many ways, notably at one time. Pasadenans, desirous of sbowing their esteem tor these iliustrious mountain- dwellers, who, though so rich in fame, were yet in pecuniary embarrassment, gave an entertainment for their benefit, as a result of which $200 was turned over to their account, every cent of which, it was afterward ascertained, founa its way to the old slave stronghold of Charleston, people were dying and many had been rendered homeless by the great earthquake. Uncle James Townsend, the old Quaker who lives at 289 Los Robles avenue, Pasa- dena, had a personal acquaintance with John Brown. “Yes, I was well acquainted with John Brown,” says Uncle James, ‘‘and he and his men often stopped with me when pass- ing through West Branch, lowa, where in those early times I kept ‘The Traveler’s Rest.’ They made frequent expeditions into Kansas and Missouri, carrying sup- plies to aid in the warfare being waged be« tween freedom and slavery. One evening he surprised us by driving into the yard | with a few teams, several of his men and about fourteen colored people whom, he informed us, he had rescued from slavery. Teams were cared for and a hurried supper was prepared for the party in the kitchen. “The little Quaker community began gathering in, ministers and elders coming to expostulate with me for harboring such warlike men and remaining to listen to the story of their exploits. “Altnough many relics have been parted with, I have several letters from Brown's men, some written after their capture at Harpers Ferry, which occurred soon after the events I have been relating. When reports came of the attack there was great excitement, and my wife, vour aunt, fear- ing we should be implicated, destroye1 comer walks up to the mark he has made | and leisurely paces off to the head of the course and turns around ready and confi- dent. By this time you are all attention. You observe that he starts slowly, as you did, and increases his pace. Then you notice that he does something that you did not; when he reached the bandkerchief his foot struck it exactly and the remaining strides were taken as though, they were cut by | machinery. Moreover, as you were watch- | ing closely so as not to lose a single point | | you noticed that his foot struck the wood so accurately that it was scarcely an inch | out of the way. Moreover, you observed | that one hand was slightiy in the rear and one slightly advanced when nis foot | struck; that when he began to rise from | the block the hand in the rear shot for- ‘[ ward as he rose, but stopped suddenly at | about the height of his nose. This sudden | | jerk when the bedy was light had a ten- | | dency to pull him upward and onward, | | greatly accelerating the movement of the | | jumper. | Many beginners are puzzied to know ! | why a block is used in broad jumping | and a measurement taken from its edge, and why a man should be measured from a mark his hand makes if he has lost his balance after landing. Now, if you were being chased by a bull across a field and came to a creek cut be- low the level of the meadow you wounld have to jump. If your *‘take-off”’ or point | of jumping is six inches from the edge you | lose that much, do you not? and you run that much chance of falling in the water. Certainly the edges are not going to move toward you to make up for your bad take- off. The jump is certainly not measured from toe to heel in that case, even if it is measured so by your indulgent friends on the campus. On the contrary, if you miss the edge and go too far the ground is not goirg to be so accommodating as to shift | and keep you from tambling in the water. ‘When you land on the other side, say within a few inches of the brink, should you lose your balance and fall backward, can you support yourself by placing a hand on the ground behind? You would find yourself in the water. Thus experi- ence has taught our athletic Solons the most superior methods to conduct athletic | exercises that the best possible results may | be attained. A high-jumping shoe should not have spikes as long as those for sprint-running, but besides should have in the heela spike of moderate length, that when the jumper drives bis heel in the ground preparatory to springing he will not be in danger of slipping. The broad-jumper should wear sprinting sboes that have seen some ser- vice, us it is necessary that they should fit the foot perfectly to stand the sudden strain, but particularly that the spikes may be worn down somewbat, as it is not desirable to have long spikes strike the wood. (gso. D. Bairp. | i many letters and other articles which would be valuable as relics now.” Crossing the room, my uncle took from his desk a package of yellow letters, which proved very interesting. One from John E. Cook, bearing the postmark Harpers Ferry, dated August 10, 1859 (about two months before the attack and subsequent | capture), is addressed to Messrs. Town- send, Lewis and families. The Lewis, my uncle explained, was his old neighbor and the grandfather of Mrs. Walter Raymond. On the margin of the letter is the fol- lowing arrangement of figures: 12, 14, 16, : , 1,6, 19,7, 10, 18, 10 and 2, , 7, 10, 13, 15, 25, 19, 7, 14, 10, 11, 23, 10, 14, 18, 10, : 20, 6, 1, 8, 9, 15, 18, 15, 21, 18, 9, 18, 10, 6, 8, 7, 20, 2, 3, 7, 6, 12, 7, 23, 6, 3, 12, 15, 2, 10, 19, 15, 1, which interpreted reads: *‘Captain Brown is here and most of the boys have arrived. We are only waiting for our freight, which will come sdon.” This was an alphabet used by Brown and his men, the key to it beiag in the possession of the landlords of under- ground railway stations. Another interesting relic 1s a splinter from one of the wagons in which the slaves were brought from Missouri, the wagon being now in the possession of the Historical Society in Towa City. Brown's ax, which my unclie once owned, he had given to his son, Dr. J. R. Townsend. Mary E. WriGHT. Music is of two kinds—that which the musician makes and that which the lis. tener hears. .. — No man is a success at everything or a failurein everything. From U.S. Journal of Medicine, Prof.W. H. Pecke, whomakes a special- ty of Epilepsy, has without doubf treat- 'NEW TO-DAY. ed and cured more Physician ; his success isastonish- ing. heard of cases of 20 years’ standing cured by him. He publishes a valuable work on this disease, which he sends cure, free to any sufferer who ma send their P.O. and Express address)f We advise anyone wishing a cure to address FO IS cases than any living We have with a large bottle of his absolute ®rof.W.H.PEEKE, F.D.,4Cedar St..N