Louis the Sixteenth at the scaffold. to report, According Le general n'avait de Mars que la bière. But what a change now! All day long, on the marble tables at every café door in summer, you see glass jugs full of the amber-coloured beer of Strasbourg. Beer of the Teuton has all but driven away the Celtic raspberry syrup and water, of former years. The change has come on Paris, as changes of diet do come upon a nation. They are fashions. They are not founded on deductions of the judgment. They originate, no one knows why; they lead, no one knows where. They may save thousands, or kill thousands-no one heeds. The fresh creamy beer may be better than the clogging syrup, but it is headier and more bilious, and we very much doubt whether it is so wholesome in so hot a climate, and among a people who take so much less exercise for its own sake, than we Englishmen do. In Paris, this German beer always tastes to us less digestible, and more heavy, apoplectic, and clogging, than in England. Howbeit, change must come. Liberal interest; the sea ebbs and flows; rasp The planets are in the berry syrup had its day. THE BABES IN THE CLOUDS. AN AMERICAN TRUE STORY. JUST ten years ago, there suddenly burst upon the western world, a magnificent stranger from foreign parts, "with all his travelling glories on." It was the great comet of 1858, on the grand tour of the universe. It seemed strange that petty human life could go on as usual, with its eating and drinking, toiling, trafficking, and pleasuring, while that "flaming minister," on his billion-leagued circuit, was preaching the wonders of infinite immensity and power, and the nothingness of earth. But science has robbed celestial apparitions of their old portentous significance. The comet no longer runs his kindling race, like Vich-Alpine's henchman, with his fiery cross, announcing war and disaster, Herald of battle, fate, and fear. He is on his own business; not ours. Under the tail of this particular comet doubtless many a tale of love was told-in the light of his swift splendours many a tender look exchanged. The astronomer coolly swept the starry field with his glass, unawed by the irregular night-guard patrolling the heavens, and the robber and murderer disdained the awful witness. He left us as he found us-joined to our mortal idols-wise in our own conceit, weak, and worldly, and wicked, but no castaways of the universe after all. We remember that comet-summer, not so much for its great astronomical event, as for two singular incidents that more nearly touched our human sympathies, which will grovel in poor earthly affairs, even within sight of the most august celestial phenomena. One pleasant Saturday afternoon during the comet's appearance, an aeronaut, after a pros perous voyage, descended upon a farm in the neighbourhood of a large market town, in one of the western states. He was soon surrounded by a curious group of the farmer's family and labourers, all asking eager questions about the Voyage and the management of the balloon. That, secured by an anchor and a rope in the hand of the aeronaut, its car but a foot or two above the ground, was swaying lazily backward and forward in the evening air. It was a good deal out of wind, and was a sleepy and innocent monster in the eyes of the farmer, who, with the owner's permission, led it up to his house, where, as he said, he could "hitch it" to his fence. But before he thus secured it, his three children, aged respectively ten, eight, and three, begged him to lift them "into that big basket,' that they might sit on "those pretty red cushions." While the attention of the aeronaut was diverted by more curious questioners lifted his darlings one by one into the car. from a neighbouring farm, this rash father Chubby little Johnny proved the " ounce too to the ground; and then, unluckily, not the baby, much" for the aerial camel, and brought him but the eldest hope of the family, was lifted out. The relief was too great for the monster. The volatile creature's spirits rose at once, he jerked his halter out of the farmer's hand, and with a wild bound mounted into the air! Vain moment in a fence, but it tore away, and was was the aeronaut's anchor. It caught for a off, dangling uselessly after the runaway balloon, which so swifty and steadily rose that in a few minutes those two little white faces peering those piteous cries of "Papa!" "Mamma!" grew over the edge of the car grew indistinct, and faint and fainter, up in the air. swallowed up voices and faces, and nothing When distance and twilight mists had could be seen but that dark cruel shape, sailing triumphantly away, with its precious booty, like an aerial privateer, the poor father sank down helpless and speechless; but the mother, frantic with grief, still stretched her yearning arms toward the inexorable heavens, and called wildly up into the unanswering void. The aeronaut strove to console the wretched parents with assurances that the balloon would descend within thirty miles of the town, and that all might be well with the children, provided it did not come down in water, or in deep woods. In the event of its descending in a favourable spot, there was but one danger to be apprehended; he thought that the elder child might step out, leaving the younger in the balloon. Then, it might again rise, and continue its Voyage. "Ah no," replied the mother, "Jennie would never stir from the car, without Johnnie in her arms!" The balloon passed directly over the market town, and the children seeing many people in the streets, stretched out their hands and cried loudly for help. But the villagers though they saw the bright little heads, heard no call. Amazed at the strange apparition, they might scouts and heralds of the great comet--or peralmost have thought the translated little creatures haps being cast away on some desolate starsmall angel navigators on some voyage of disco- | island, or more dreary still, floating and floating very, some little cherubic venture of their own, on, night and day, till they should both die of as, heading toward the rosy cloud-lands and cold and hunger. Poor babes in the clouds! purple islands of sunset splendour, they sailed deeper and deeper into the west, and faded away. Some company they had, poor little skywaifs! Something comforted them, and allayed their wild terrors-something whispered them that below the night and clouds, was home; that above was God; that wherever they might drift or clash, living or dead, they would still be in His domain, and under His care-that though borne away among the stars, they could not be lost, for His love would follow them. 66 At length, a happy chance, or Providencewe will say Providence-guided the little girl's wandering hand to a cord connected with the valve; something told her to pull it. At once the balloon began to sink, slowly and gently, as though let down by tender hands; or as though some celestial pilot guided it through the wild currents of air, not letting it drop into lake, or river, lofty wood, or impenetrable swamp, where this strange unchild-like experience might have been closed by a death of unspeakable horror; but causing it to descend as softly as a bird alights, on a spot where human care and pity awaited it. When the sunlight all went away, and the great comet came blazing out, little Johnnie was apprehensive that the comet might come too near their airy craft, and set it on fire with a The sun had not yet risen, but the morning whisk of its dreadful tail. But when his sister twilight had come, when the little girl looking assured him that that fiery dragon was as over the edge of the car, saw the dear old earth much as twenty miles away," and that God coming nearer-"rising towards them," she wouldn't let him hurt them, he was tranquillized, said. But when the car stopped, to her great but soon afterward, said, "I wish he would disappointment, it was not on the ground, but come a little nearer, so I could warm myself caught fast in the topmost branches of a tree. Yet she saw they were near a house whence help might soon come, so she awakened her brother and told him the good news, and together they watched and waited for deliverance, hugging each other for joy and for warmth; for they were very cold. -I'm so cold!" Then Jennie took off her apron, and wrapped it about the child, saying tenderly: "This is all sister has to make you warm, darling, but she'll hug you close in her arms, and we will say our prayers and you shall go to sleep." Why, how can I say my prayers, before I have my supper ?" asked little Johnnie. "Sister hasn't any supper for you, or for herself, but we must pray all the harder," solemnly responded Jennie." So the two baby-wanderers, alone in the wide heavens, unawed by darkness, immensity, and silence, by the presence of the great comet and the millions of unpitying stars, lifted their little clasped hands, and sobbed out their sorrowful, "Our Father," and then that quaint little supplementary prayer: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 1 pray the Lord my soul to take. "There! God heard that, easy; for we are close to Him, up here," said innocent little Johnnie. Doubtless Divine Love stooped to the little ones, and folded them in perfect peace-for soon the younger, sitting on the bottom of the car, with his head leaning against his sister's knee, slept as soundly as though he were lying in his own little bed, at home; while the elder watched quietly through the long, long hours, and the car floated gently on in the still night air, till it began to sway and rock on the fresh morning wind. Who can divine that simple little child's thoughts, speculations, and wild imaginings, while watching through those hours? She mav have feared coming in collision with a meteor-for many were abroad that night, Farmer Burton, who lived in a lonely house, on the edge of his own private prairie, was a famous sleeper in general, but on this particular morning he awoke before the dawn, and, though he turned and turned again, he could sleep no more. So, at last, he said to his good wife, whom he had kindly awakened to inform her of his unaccountable insomnolence, "It's no use; I'll just get up and dress, and have a look at the comet." The next that worthy woman heard from her wakeful spouse, was a frightened summons to the outer door. It seems, that no sooner did he step forth from his house, than his eyes fell on a strange portentous shape hanging in a large pear-tree, about twenty yards distant. He could see in it no likeness to anything earthly, and he half fancied it might be the comet, who having put out his light, had come down there to perch. In his fright and perplexity, he did what every wise man would do in a like extremity; he called on his valiant wife. Reinforced by her, he drew near the tree, cautiously reconnoitring. Surely never pear-tree bore such fruit! Suddenly there descended from the thing, a plaintive trembling little voice. Please take us down. We are very cold!" Then a second little voice. too. Please take us down!" "And hungry, "Why, who are you? And where are you?" The first little voice said: "We are Mr. Harwood's little boy and girl, and we are lost in a balloon." The second little voice said: "It's us, and we runned away down." with a balloon. Please take us Dimly comprehending the situation, the farmer getting hold of a dangling rope, succeeded in pulling down the balloon. He first lifted out little Johnnie, who ran rapidly a few yards toward the house, then turned round, and stood for a few moments, curiously surveying the balloon. The faithful little sister was so chilled and exhausted that she had to be carried into the house, where, trembling and sobbing, she told her wonderful story. Before sunrise a mounted messenger was dispatched to the Harwood home, with glad tidings of great joy. He reached it in the afternoon, and a few hours later the children themselves arrived, in state, with banners and music, and conveyed in a covered hay-waggon and four. Joy-bells were rung in the neighbouring town, and in the farmer's brown house, the happiest family on the Continent thanked God that night. It would seem that this comet had some occult maddening influence on balloons, for during its appearance there occurred in another western state, an involuntary ascension, similar to the one I have related; but more tragical in its termination. An aeronaut while, if I remember rightly, repairing the net-work of his balloon, was seated on a slight wooden cross-piece, suspended under it; the car having been removed, and the balloon being held in its position, a few feet from the ground, by merely a rope in the hand of an assistant. From a too careless grasp, this rope escaped, and in an instant the gigantic bubble shot upward, carrying the aeronaut on his frail support; a rider helpless than Mazeppa bound to his Ukraine steed; a voyager more hopeless than a shipwrecked sailor afloat on a spar in mid-ocean. more The balloon rose rapidly, but unsteadily, swaying and pitching in the evening wind. As long as it remained in sight, the form of the aeronaut could be distinguished, swinging beneath it. And, as he was known to be a man of uncommon nerve and presence of mind, it was hoped that even from his dizzy perch he might manage to operate on the valve, or at least to puncture a small hole in the balloon, and thus effect a descent. But such efforts, if he made any, were vain, as, for many days and nights, there was anxious inquiry and patient search over a wide extent of country, with no result. We gave him up. Only wifely love hoped on, and looked and waited. At last, in a wild spot, the wreck of the balloon was found, and that was all. Still, wifely love hoped on, until, a month or two later, some children nutting in a wood, many miles away from where the balloon was found, discovered, half buried in the ground, a strange dark mass, that looked like a heap of old clothes, but that there was something, shapeless and fearful, holding it together. a It was thought that the aëronaut parted company from his balloon by loosening his hold on the cords above him, in desperate efforts to open the valve; but he may, after whirling in swift vortices, or plunging and mounting through cloudy abysses of air, have become unnerved by the awful silence of the upper night, by the comet's fearful companionship, by whelming immensity and infinity, and wearily let go his hold, to drop earthward. MEPHISTOPHELES, GENERAL DEALER. WHO'LL buy tresses, bonnie brown tresses? Maids and matrons, come and buy! Here is one that was cut from a beggar Look at it, countess! envy it, duchess! Crouching low down in a ditch to die! 'Tis long and fine, and will suit you well; Hers by nature, yours by purchase, Beauty was only made to sell. Who'll buy hair of lustrous yellow? Maids and matrons, 'tis bright as gold, 'Twas shorn from the head of a wretched pauper Starving with hunger and bitter cold. It brought her a supper, a bed, and a breakfast; Who care not for heads that have brains within. Who'll buy tresses, jet-black tresses? Maids and matrons, lose no time! Belonged to a murderess red with crime. Widows and matrons whose blood is cold, Who'll buy hair of all shades and colours, That never deceive a man of sense! Chignons! chignons! lovely chignons! 'Tis art, not nature, wins the dayFalse hair, false hips, false hearts, false faces! Marry them, boobies, for you may! FAR-WESTERN NEWSPAPERS. THERE is not a town anywhere in the West of sufficient importance to be "reckoned a right smart chance of a city" without a local weekly, bi-weekly, or even daily newspaper. As it is impossible for the whole community to be of one mind in matters political, we generally find one devoted to the interests of the democratic party, and a second to the well cherished opinions of the republicans -these two parties dividing social affairs and public and private life in "the Far West." the same way of thinking in political matters, it is immaterial, for this civility will only be delayed a few minutes until the opposition editor, from across the way, makes his appearance in his shirt sleeves to take his meridian "cocktail," and to squeeze out of the new arrival all the public news he may possess for the public good (in a professional way), or, true to his country, matters of private history for his own private satisfaction. Now, what do I mean by the Far West: a individual whom, by the shrewdly telling questerm often used, but with a most indefinite appli- tions he puts, the traveller will have no difficulty cation? About New York, the term is applied in recognising as the local editor. If he has to the region of which Chicago is the centre. If not done so already himself, Colonel Homer you go to Chicago you will find that the railway S. Smith, mine host, will soon take upon himcompanies are advertising the Far West" as self a western landlord's privilege, of introducOmaha. At Omaha, on the Missouri, Utah seems ing you to Dr.," "Captain,' Judge," or to be that bourne: while, again, at the city of" Mister Ossian E. Dodge, editor of the Swampthe saints it is Oregon, or California,-some-ville Flag of Liberty (and one of our most where about the Pacific at all events. Whether distinguished citizens, sir)." If he be not of the people of the Pacific coast have any place where they locate" the Far West," it is hard to say; probably China and Japan would be about the nearest whereabout of that geographically-relative locality. The scene of the following sketches will lie, broadly speaking, in the region on either side of the Rocky Mountains; somewhere in the wilds of those new states and territories which are now and again springing up out of the wilderness; which are peopled by an ever moving and adventurous As you get better acquainted with your people, not by any means barbarous, yet friend you will find that he is far from being far from refined- in fact, of that peculiar such a truculent fellow as his leaders and "pertype known well enough in those parts of the sonal items" might lead you to suppose. He world as the "western man." It is with the will hospitably ask you to come up to my ruder type of newspaper, produced in such office, Cap.; write your letters there, sir;" and out-of-the-way places as lie within the shadow when you look into his office, which is generally of the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra Nevadas press room, composing room, and study, with of California, or the Cascade Mountains of little furniture beyond a saliva-rusted stove, a Oregon or Idaho, with their characteristics, spittoon, and a huge rocking chair of cheap and with their humour, that I propose to construction, you will find that it seems to deal. The flourishing state of ephemeral literature on the shores of the Pacific (associated as it will ever be in our minds with bowie knives and nuggets), cannot be better expressed than by stating, that in the city of San Francisco alone, numbering one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and nineteen years ago consisting of only a few cotton tents on some sand-hills, there are published no fewer than forty-five periodicals, comprising ten dailies, eight monthlies, one semi-weekly, one triweekly, and two annuals. Of these, three are published in the German language, three in Spanish, and two in French. The gold of California has attracted men clever in every department of brain and handicraft, and, accordingly, we find these periodicals edited with good ability and even refinement. It is only when we get up in the interior that we find the western editor in all his crudity. Suppose that it should ever fall to the lot of a wise man of the East to ride some summer day into one of these quiet little western towns, situated on a prairie or by some river with a not euphonious name, where it is difficult to say when the town commences and the country ends, or which is which, and where the inhabitants, in their dolce far niente languor, seem to wish, like the lotus eaters, as they tilt their rocking chairs on the shady side of the street, in front of the "grocery" door, that "it was always afternoon." Before he has well taken off his jingling Mexican spurs, or imbibed a preliminary "drink" with the landlord of the "Ho-tel," he will be accosted by a shabby-genteel be a general loafing place for the more idle of the citizens of the political opinions which the "Flag" professes. There they are, all smoking, chewing tobacco, eating apples, or ruminating with chair tilted back, or sitting on the step in front of the office door, only occasionally moving over to the neighbouring bar room to "put in a blast," or "to hist in a drop o' pisin." The editor will now and then, if not better employed, rush out to ask a passing acquaintance "if he has not such a thing as an item about him," or will bolt round the corner of the street to pump a rusty gold miner who has just now wearily trudged into town for the week's supply of pork and beans. Shortly afterwards, you will see the two adjourning to "take a drink;" or, if news from the diggings at "Mad Mule Cañon," or "Shirt Tail Bar," is of a particularly spicy character; the miner will adjourn to the office. There his news will be "set up" in due course, and he will be invited to "take a char," doubtless not only in hospitality, but also with eye to the policy of keeping him out of the way of the "opposition," already on the qui vive; for in these dull, die-away mining or rural villages in some mountain valley of the Far West, a man with news is an important personage, and comports himself (most properly) as one from cities. The telegraph and the mail may bring matters of general interest to all alike, but the local items of a difficulty" down at Greaser's Camp or a gold "strike" in Black Jack's Claim at Yuba Dam* are matters * Well-known mining localities in California. Cephas E. Slocum, who edits the miserable twobit thing over the way." The editor of a San Jose paper quarrels with another editor. Listen to his description of his friend's character: He is a professional loafer, and may generally be seen round drinking saloons, not only at election times, but for years after. He makes a game of politics, and plays as he would a game of short cards or cut throat moute to win. He wears his hair short-a style known as the 'fighting cut'-that he may be al sary may take no undue advantage. The preponderance of his brains is located between his ears. His countenance is concave, and one or both of his eyes are usually in mourning' from the effects of his last fight. He is powerful' in primaries,' where he votes carly and often for his favourite candidates, succeeds and calls the nomination regular. In the matter of piety, long prayers, &c., that is entirely out of his line. Cursing is more especially his forte. He can tell the difference between a whisky straight and a gin cocktail with his eyes shut, and can snuff a treat two blocks off. He spends his money with and makes it a point of honour never to pay an honest debt. He accepts office for the sake of the stealings, and is loyal because it pays best!" which must be picked up by that most industrious individual, the "local" editor, or as he is called in other places, "reporter." If the paper is going to press, and there is a dearth of "items" under the column "local," there is nothing for it but to extemporise some, or resort to that unfailing remedy of a newsless editor, write letters on local grievances to himself, and answer them in the next issue. In many years' wanderings about the less settled portions of the slopes of the Rocky Mountains I have had much intercourse-pleasant, on the whole ways ready for a scrimmage, and that his adverwith the western editor. Scattered through my note-books are various memoranda illustrative of these rough "spurtings" of literary effort in a roughly organised state of society. The editor works to please the public, and from the paper can generally be drawn a tolerably fair picture of the community for which it is produced, tinctured, of course, with more or less of the individual peculiarities of the presiding spirit. I must, in honesty, explain that no one need expect in a few glances over a single file of western newspapers to find so many strongly marked characteristics as occur, within narrow limits, in a gathering like mine; for that contains picked specimens culled at wide intervals. On the other hand, I can assert that as they were not gathered with any special object in view, they are fairly representative, There is no joke here; the man is perfectly and in no case is there the slightest ex-in earnest, as none who knew the pair of worthies aggeration. would for a moment doubt. Nothing can more The editor himself has generally been brought thoroughly express this personality, as well as up as a printer, and not unfrequently in case of the absolute dearth of local news in a mountain accident will "set up" and "work off" his own newspaper in Nevada, than the following from leader. Not unfrequently "he puts in his time the Virginia Enterprize: "We observe that at case;" and if he be of a speculative turn of Brier, localt of the News, has on a new coat. mind, drives the stage coach, or "runs" the If we remember right, there was a dry goods hotel; but oftener, he is a local attorney, filling store burnt out a short time ago, and that a up his spare time with politics, and possibly sits number of coats which were put on the street in the territorial legislature. There is not, I for safe keeping, after having been saved from believe, a politician of any eminence in this wise, the fire, were missing. Of course we don't inwho at one time or other has not been a tend to cast any reflection, or to say that Brier printer or a lawyer: the former generally nipped any of them. Oh no!" Another ingraduating into the latter, as the world deals dignantly states that it "would take the auger more kindly with him or ambition pricks him on. of common sense longer to pierce into a certain He very seldom sticks to the editorial desk, editor's brain than it would take for a boiled but gravitates with western versatility into carrot to bore through the Alps." After this some other more lucrative line of business. If elegant burst of eloquence, we may be prepared he be sufficiently talkative, he takes to politics, to learn that William T. Dowdall, an Illinois and "runs" for the local legislature or the dis-editor, having "read" Brick Pomeroy out of the trict judgeship; or, if muscularly inclined, you will find him working in a mining claim, or engaged in fulfilling a contract to " blaze" a trail. The first thing which attracts attention in the little dirty-looking, ill-printed sheet, is its astounding personality; that personality being generally not so much directed against the other party, or even against the rival paper as representing the other party, as against the editor of it in his private capacity. Every western editor's name is prominently printed at the head of his paper, and instead of talking as he of the Eatans will Gazette might, of our contemptible contemporary the Journal," the Western paper talks of " that low-lived hound, democratic party; the latter replies by calling Dowdall an "idiotic swill-headed chunk;" whereupon Dowdall calls Brick a "Pandemoniac paste-pot cut-throat." The editor of the Oakland News offers a handsome apology to the editor of his San Leandro contemporary for a typographical error in calling him a "monkey;" he meant a "donkey!" Sometimes these personal One bit (fivepence to sevenpence), and two bits single newspaper to the west of the Rocky Moun(one shilling), being about the ordinary price of a tains: the former is the lowest coin in general circulation. However, if taken by the week, the usual subscription for a daily paper is only one shilling, delivered. i.e., local editor, or reporter. |