Culm Rock; The Story of a Year: What it Brought and What it Taught, by Glance Gaylord. Published 1867.

Thanks to David T. Jones for post-processing this project!

Bookp(h)ile

That Chinese are capable of enduring much for religion is to be seen by the long and toilsome pilgrimages untertaken by many, as also in the works of mortification of the flesh in which their zeal finds vent instead of in proselytism. On one occasion a few weeks ago I was witness to the mortifications of the flesh. The place was New Wang, a temple close to Ningpo, which has recently gained a high reputation for the piety of the inmates. At the time I entered, two priests were undergoing the operations of having the finger burned off. The way it was done is as follows: A string was tied tightly around the finger under the second knuckle; the hand was then surrounded by a ball of clay, and the fist doubled up, leaving one finger sticking out. Round this finger was tied sandal wood, which was lighted, and boiling and blazing resin and oil poured upon it. The person operated on sat in a chair, untied, with the burning hand on the altar. Noting prevented him from moving his hand at any moment. At any time he could have asked, and the torture would have been discontinued. I staid for an hour and a half witnessing this strange sight, all of which time gongs were beating and prayers beying [sic] said. Behind one of the sufferers stood an aged priest, his hands on the shoulders of the sufferer, a young, healthy looking man. From the hands of the old Bonze five fingers were missing, they having been burned off. I must confess that, though I am used to see operations, etc., without a shudder, I sickened at the sight of this needless pain and deformation of God’s image.–The Shanghai (China) Recorder.

A mere accident, less strange, to be sure, than that which made Berthold Schwarz invent gunpowder, but which, nevertheless, must be regarded as a hint of Providence, directed him to another, and we can now say, the only right way. It was thus: It sometimes happened that quantities of percussion caps were sent back to him, having been spoiled by moisture. In order to prevent this, Dreysse conceived of the idea of protecting them against dampness by covering them with a thin film of paper. The result proved to be the very opposite, for the paper attracted moisture, and a very large order, which had been constructed in this way, was sent back to him, as they were entirely spoiled and unfit for use. This was a great loss to the firm, as copper was very dear at that time. In order to obtain the copper of the caps for further manufacturing purposes. Dreysse decided to remove the fulminating composition. In order to effect this with as little loss of time as possible, he wanted to do it by explosion. After various unsatisfactory attempts, the idea occurred to him of accomplishing it by means of a pin or needle constructed for that purpose. This experiment proved to be entirely successful, and like lightning the idea struck him of using the needle altogether for exploding the cartridge. Not less quickly a second idea dawned on his mind–that of removing the entire explosive material into the cartridge, to save the expensive copper used heretofore for caps. This was the first important step in the construction of the Prussian needle-gun. Dreysse at once set to work, and in the beginning of 1829 the first needle-gun was made.–Hours at Home.

Weston, the pedestrian, on his walk from Portland (Me.) to Chicago, a distance of 1,237½ miles, is “marching on” with a good prospect of success. He arrived at Syracuse (N. Y.) from Oneida, a distance of 28 miles, about nine o’clock on Monday morning. He says he is now 18 hours ahead of time. We have before published the conditions upon which Mr. Weston attempts this almost unheard-of feat, but the following brief resume of them will not prove uninteresting. He is to walk 100 miles in twenty-four hours during his journey, and has the privilege of trying five times to do it. He has made one attempt, starting from Dedham (Mass.) in which he failed, owing to injuries received from the crowd at Pawtucket. He will try again after leaving Buffalo. If he does not succeed in any of these attempts, he forfeits six-tenths of the stake, whether he walks the 1,237½ miles in twenty-six days or not. Six men in carriages accompany him to see that all is fairly done. The stake is $10,000, and he is confident of winning. Edward Payson Weston is twenty-seven years of age, five feet seven and a half inches high, and weighs 125 pounds. His walking dress, is a jacket, tight-fitting black pantaloons, stout brogans, with red tops, round top hat, and buff gloves. He is a canvasser by profession, and is to distribute on the road 30,000 copies of his little paper, The Time Table.

Among the products of the country around Pare, in Brazil, are vampire bats, which are so dangerous that the natives are obliged to guard carefully against their intrusion into their dwellings. A letter says that a party of Americans recently had an unpleasant experience with them. They were on an excursion up the Amazon, and at night one of them was bled so badly by a vampire as to awake, in a state of exhaustion, with a face like a corpse. The foot of his hammock and the floor beneath it was saturated with blood, the flow of which was checked with much difficulty. It is this difficulty of staunching the blood which makes the vampire so dreaded–the quantity which the creature requires to satisfy its appetite being comparatively trifling. Some persons seem to be especially liable to their attacks, while others can sleep in a room infested by them nightly with impunity. They only make their attacks in darkness, and a light kept burning in a sleeping-room is an effectual safeguard.

“Swingin Round the Cirkle” by Petroleum V. Nasby (pseud. David Ross Locke). Published 1867. The continuation of the title is: “His ideas of men, politics, and things, as set forth in his letters to the public press, during the year 1866.” With illustrations by Thomas Nast.

This is a collection of letters written in dialect by “Petroleum V. Nasby” discussing the events of the Reconstruction of the United States after the Civil War. This collection centers on the “Swing Round the Circle” tour (following the Philadelphia convention) by Andrew Johnson, who was stumping to gain support for his Union Party.

“Nasby” was a prolific writer of letters, the earliest (antebellum) appearing in the Findlay (Ohio) Jeffersonian, and later ones appearing in the Toledo (Ohio) Blade. He was a Copperhead (a Northern-born Southern sympathizer) and loud-mouth, who was always trying to land a plum Post Office Commission. That and get extended credit at the grocery. And free drinks.

The creator of Nasby, David Ross Locke (1833-1888) was a journalist and abolitionist. His Nasby letters influenced public opinion against slavery during and after the Civil War. Nasby/Locke are not as well known today as they once were. Nasby was an extremely popular character, but his writings are in dialect using language we’d consider inappropriate today (and there are some very difficult passages — it is not all a laugh-riot). But the satire is still sharp, even considering the passage of time and some changes in details. For example, in a scene where he meets with Andrew Johnson to ask for a Post Office Commission:

Knowin that for men uv my profound convickshins, holdin my views ez to consiliashen and sich, I hed no call to go to the Postmaster-General, who is a Ablishnist, I went dreckly to the Second Jaxon hisself. I succeeded in gettin a audience late in the afternoon. Our patron saint wuz a sittin at a table, eggsausted with receevin delegashens and sich.

“Well,” sed he.

“Honerd and spected sir,” said I, “I am a applicant for the post orfis at Confedrit × Roads, wich is at present held by a Ablishnist who does not beleeve in yoor policy, wich I do beleeve in solemnly. Spected and honered sir,” sed I, “ef I shood have twins born to me this nite, I shood name em both Policy.”

“Wich State are yoo from?” sed he, half asleep.

“From Kentucky, honered and spected sir,” sed I.

“Well,” sed he, yawnin feerfully, and turnin to a clerk, “Fill out a pardon, and give him a commission!”

Sound, er, familiar?

Mr. Palmer, in his “Anecdotes of Elephants,” relates the following: “A troop of elephants were accustomed to pass a green-stall on their way to water. The woman who kept the stall took a fancy to one of the elephants, and frequently regaled her favorite with greens and fruits, which produced a corresponding attachment on the part of the elephant toward the woman. One day, the group of elephants unfortunately overturned the poor woman’s stall, and in her haste to preserve her goods she forgot her little son, who was in danger of being trampled to death. The favorite elephant perceived the child’s danger, and taking him up gently with his trunk, carefully placing him on the roof of a shed close at hand.”

An amusing anecdote is given by Captain Williamson of an elephant, named ‘Pangal,’ which showed remarkable sagacity. This animal, when on a march, refused to carry on his back a larger load than he thought was right and proper. He would pull down as much of the burden as reduced it to the weight which he conceived it was fair for him to bear. One day the quarter-master of the brigade became enraged at the apparent obstinacy of the animal, and very cruelly threw a tent pin at his head. A few days afterwards, as the elephant was on his way from camp to water he overtook the quarter-master, and, seizing him in his trunk, lifted him into a large tamarind tree, which overhung the road, and left him to cling to the branches, and get down in the best way that he could.

Porus, a king of India, in a battle with Alexander the Great, being severely wounded, fell from the back of his elephant. The Macedonian soldiers, supposing him to be dead, pushed forward in order to despoil of his rich clothes an accoutrements. The noble and faithful elephant, however, standing over the body of its master, boldly repelled every one who dared to approach. And, while the enemy was at bay, took the bleeding monarch up with his trunk, and gently placed him again on his back. The troops of Porus came by this time to his relief, and the king was saved; but the faithful elephant died of the wounds which he received in the heroic defence of his master.

Ludolph says that an elephant was one day ordered to launch a ship. The animal attempted to pull the vessel into the water, but it was beyond its strength. “Take away that lazy beast, and put another in his stead,” cried the angry keeper. The noble animal on hearing this redoubled his efforts, fractured his skull, and fell dead on the spot!

The Louisville Journal of Monday has the following:

Mrs. Carter who lives on Green street, between Ninth and Tenth, as a son about seventeen years of age, who is so accustomed to walking in his sleep that his mother has found it necessary to have him sleep in the same room with her, so that he may be watched over. Yesterday morning, however, about two o’clock, he arose in his sleep, and was not discovered in time to prevent him from leaping over the balustrade of the back porch, in the third story of the house, to the pavement below, a distance of about twenty-five feet. After this freak the family rushed down stairs, expecting to find him lying there a bruised and mangled corpse, but all their searching was in vain. Pretty soon a vigorous pull was made at the door bell, and the door was opened, when in stalked the somnambulist “as large as life,” and inquired “what’s the matter?” A surgeon was immediately called, and the young man was found to be not seriously injured, he having only a few slight bruises on each arm. It is said that he did not awake until after the physician had made his examination.