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A STORY C7 THE "B AREFQO'a BOY." On navernuTa plensnnt hill thtre played, ttoine tuventy yeant npo. In t a rued up trmm m, battered hat, I'm die ami frocl ;h and all that, The Barefoot boy we know. He roamed his berry fields content. But while Ironi buxh and briT, The nimble fret got tunny a scratch, II in wit, bcnetith it homely t hatch, Aspired to Homuthiug higher. Over Irlrt dojr -eared spelling book, Or schoolboy i'ouiioMitioii, I'uzzlinjr hiH licuil with nouie hard nam, (oittg lor nuts, or jratherinff gum. He rliariaheU hU aiubitkju. Kind nature uniilrd n that wine child, Nor could her love deny him Thhrj;e Julfillnient of hit plan; fcince h who lilt kin brother man lu turu U li;td ky him. He reached the utaTry heights of peace Before bin head won hoary; And now at tour score yenni ugain The th-minir of lib fellow ineu Waft hiui a crown ot glory. J. T. Trowbridge. ARMSTRONG'S REVENGE. NE bright Juno morning, not many years ago, a big ungainly farm servant holding by a halter a large nnJ uncouth ploughliorse, stood bo. fore the shut door of a battered wood en building, the surroundings of which at onco proclaimed it to be a smithy, although through the chinks in its weather-beaten walls no forge fire gleamed nor cheery ha m mer rang. The plough man, astonished to see the place shut at an hour long after that at which the blacksmith usually started work, retired a pace or two and gazed up at the chimney; and not seeing even the faintest trace of smoke issuing thence, he turned and looked about him with a puzzled ex pression on his face. A man break ing stones on the other side of the road noticing the farm servant's bo. wilderment,npproached, and, after tho usual morning salutation, proceed ed to explain what had become of the blacksmith. We will give that ex planation in our own words: Hamilton Armstrong was thename of tho blacksmith in question. His workshop was situated close to a wayside station on tho. main line of one of tho great Scotch railways but at a considerable distance from any town or village. Being, however, kept pretty busy at work for the neighboring farmers, and being con sequently well-to-do, and having, moreover, as his nearest female neigh bor a very pretty girl tho daughter of the porter at tho station, it was tho most natural thing in the world thot he should wish to mako her his wife. Unfortunately, this was more easily determined on than done, for he had n rivul. This rival was tho driver of a goods train which was al most daily shunted into tho siding near Sarah's house, to allow of a pas eenger expresspassing, and ho took advantage of this momentary respite to chat with tho porter's pretty daughter. Whether it was because be was n far-awjy bird that his feath. ers seemed fuirer than Armstrong's in Sarah's sight, or whether ho was intrinsically a man of more worthf the gossips for there were gossips even in those solitudes were not fiCTeed. ltightly or wrongly, howev er, Sarah gave him the preference. Having mado up his iinind to nsk fearah to be his wife, Armstrong was not long ia finding nn opportunity for doing so. Though ho knew ho hud a rival, .he was hardly prepared to hear from Sarah that she had al ready promised to marry Duffy, tho engine driver. But Armstroncr was not going to yield without making a special effort to win her. He pleaded long and fervently with her to retract her promise to his rival, whom ho was persuaded she hud only accepted beconse he had been the first to nsk her. But Sarah was quite sincere, Duffy being really tho man of her ehoice; and Armstrong pleaded in vnin. For the next week or two the blacksmith moped about, and did scarcely any work. On the day on which Sarah's mmriapo wns to take place he left tho smithy in the evening, and went wandering in to tho country, returning late a,t night. Next morning he went away again, now walking with uneasystep along the quiet country lanes, and now sitting dejectedly by the road side, muttering to himself. The neighbors soon came to hear of his strange behavior; and it was whis pered that he must have gone out of ins senses, as 'an uncle of his had done under a similar affliction. "That was yesterday," tho stone breaker wound up, "and l's away along 'the road by the railway this morning, They should look after him, or hell bo lying down in front of some train, or jumping down into the deep rock-cutting and breaking his neek." If Hamilton Armstrong had not gone mad, as the people supposed, he certainly ncted like a madman. Stung to the quick by his rejection, he had no heurt for his work. He MP Wad shut up his smithy and went out to try to walk ofTthe fever that burned within him. Proceed wig along the path by tho sido of the railway, his heart filled with bitter hatred, the idea of taking terriblo revenge on Duffy gradually shaped itself in his mind. At first he tried to shut his ears to the suggestion of tho tempt er; but little by little ho grew famil iarized with the i lea, until ho got so demoralized that he began to think in a speculative way .how he could lest avenge himself upon the engine driver. Duffy's train always passed the station, going east, about 7:30 in the evening. Shortly before it came the 7:27 passenger train. The device of placing an obstruction on the line suggested itself only to be immediately set aside. At this point in his meditations, tho sound of a signal going down suggested to him the idea of tamping with the signals. Ho returned home and retired to rest. Tossing restlessly on his bed, ho was revolving in his mind his va rious schemes of revenge, when a dia bolical idea struck him of a plan whereby he would be able to accom plish his object without leaving any trace of foul play, so that tho whole blame of tho catas trophe would fall upon Dully, who would not survive to tell his sido of the story, oreven if he did, and as serted his innocence, would not ba believed. Armstrong noticed that if the counterweight at tho bottom of the signal-pojt were lifted up, it would allow the signal arm to gn down, just as if it had been lowered by means of the lever in the signal cabin, tho wire between the cabin and the counterweight remaining motionless all tho time; while as soon ns tho counterweight was lowered again, no truce would remain ot tho signal having been touched. By adopting this mode of lowering the signal, the objection to his last men tioned plan would bedoneawuy with. The only danger would bo that the pointsman might notice that tho signal was down; but that was not likely, as the filting of the counter weight would not affect tho lever in the signal-box, and it was improba ble that the signal-man's eyes would be drawn toward tho signal when he was not cither lowering itor pullingit up. This plan would enable Armstrong to get some distance away, and so 1revent suspicion fastening upon dm; nnd tho fact of the signal "being lound all right aiterward would pre clude all possibility of a suspicion of the signal having been tampered with. Armstrong had begun his specula tions with the view only ot discover ing how he could be avenged on Duffy, it he wished to avenge himself. Tho successiul issue of them in a plan se curing at onco death to his rival aud immunity from detection to himsell was tho cause of his resolving to go further. Thus, by imjMrceptible de grees, he had been drawn into plot ting to murder. In an almost gleesome mood ho rose in the morning ami hastened along tho embankment to tho signal which ho proposed to use tor his dreadful purpose. The signal stood at about t he deepest part of a long rock-cutting, and was plauted on the sIojm) of a small embankment above the cutting. An examination of the place satisfied Armstrong that the best plan to adopt would be to attach a long cord to thecounter weight, and, taking the cord in his hand, to climb the signal post, so as to command a long stretch of the lino and to able to lower tho signal nrm at the right moment; for to b a moment too soon or too late would be fatal to his plan. His plan was now matured; but a long period ot waiting elapsed before nn opportunity of carrying it into effect presented itself. With the pa tience and jersevernnee ot a wild ani mal waiting for its prey, ho betook himself evening after evening to the signal by various roundabout routes, so as to insure that no one would know that ho went to tle same place every day, affixed his cord to tho counter-weight nnd waited only to seethe passenger train dash past without slackening speed nnd pass the distance-signal without stopping. At lengt h, when the days had crept in considerably, and thus rendennl the evenings more suitable for the carrying out ot his plan, as one even ing ho listen cl anxiously in thff dusk to the sound of tho approaching passenger train, a thrill of pleas ure shot through him, he noticed that it was slackening spwd. Tak ing the cord in his hand, lie climbed rapidly up the signal-post, and was overjoyed to find the passenger train stopping just on the station side of the distance signal. Trembling with excitement, he t urned in tho direction whence the goods train would come and anxiously waited the sound of its approach. Several seconds, which to him seemed hours, elapsed beforo there was any sign ot tho approach of the goods train. The passenger train, however, still stood nt the distance-signal, throwing up long oblique lines of light in the misty air. At length, with fluttering heart, he caught tho fuint sound of Duffy's train npproachiner, and soon tho headlights, overshadowed by a cloud of steam, golden with tho furnnce- light, began to twinkle dimly, like stars at twilight, in tVe distance. "Now or never," thought Arm strong, taking two or three turns of the cord 'round his hand. He then tugged Justly at tho cord, but the counter weight would not rise. With I nn oath he twisted his legs 'round the signal-post, passed the cord through tlie lattice-work a little nbovo him, so as to obtain a better purchase, seized the chord with both hands nnd pulled with all his might. The weight yield- ed to this violent effort; tha signal-j arm descended. Armstrong's wild laugh of ioy at the accomplishment of his nefarious purpose was almost immediately stiffed by a cry of terror and pain. In his excitement he had forgotten that his head was immed iately below the signal-arm, nnd his savage tug atthecounter-weighthnd brought the signal-arm down upon his head with a terrible and fatal force. His nerveless limbs loosened from tho signal, nivl falling with a thud upon the sloping enbnnkmentv he was shot over the edge of the sheer precipice that formed one sido of the rock cutting and landed upon the op posite lino. Meantime the goods train had en tered tho rock cutting. The signal arm having been lowered until it was in lino with the signal-post, and hav ing been checked by the entanglement of the chord in tho lattice work when it had only returned half way, stood at clear. But for this accident, Arm strong's fiendish scheme would have , been frustrated; for tho sup I port lM?ing taken away from tho counter-weight, it should have de scended, and so elevated the signal again. And now, to gratify one man's jealousy and hatred nnd pun ish one man, a hundred innocent men and women in tho passenger . train were to be sacrificed. As the goods train camo on, rat , tlingnnd roaring through the cut ting, the driver und stoker, all un : conscious of the imminent peril in j which they Mere, stood on the foot- f)lato watching the signals and the ino in front of them. A glance at tho signal, ns he caught sight of ic ,Biionpu iuuy mat lu sioou at ciear. His eye than wandered downward toward the rails, when suddenly it was arrested by a dark object lying on tho other line. "That's surely a man lying on the up-line, Tom,' he remarked to his fireman, laying his hand upon the regulator. " "Good God," so it is!" cried Tom, in great excitement. Without another word tho steam was shut otf, the link grear reversed, nnd the brake applied, for the two men knew that tho up-express was due in three minutes, nnd that if the man who was lying on the line who might bo unconscious through drink or through having fallen over was lelt there, he must inevitably meet with a horrible death. As the train stopped with a shock and a bumping of buffers and clank ing ot couplingchamsalongits whole length, Dutfy jumped down into the six-foot way with the engine-lamp in his hand. Betiding over the huddled up form, he hold the light above the blood-covered face and peered into it. A few seconds elapsed lxfore Duffy moved; and Torn, wondeting why he had knelt so long looking in to the unconscious man's face, jumped down beside hiin and usked: "Is he dead, Duffy?" "Yes," answered Duffy, raising his headvs if he had just wakened out of a dream. "Who is he?" continued Tom. "Armstrong, the smith." At this moment tho brnkeman of the train came along to see what was wrong; nnd atter Tom had explained the matter to him, they lifted tho dead man and enrried him to the van. Duffy and Tom then returned to the engine nnd were just about to start the train to advance to the station and see what could be done with Armstroug, when Tom caught sight of some one rnnning along the line with a lamp in his hand. "What's up?" cried Duffy. "Wao can this be, and what can be wanting?" asked Tom. At this point the man with the lamp approached the engine; nnd when he had com within the light of the furnace, the two men recognized him as the signal man. "It's a bless ing you noticed it!" becried, panting with the exertion of running so fast. "Noticed what?" both men on the engine exclaimed simultaneously. "Something's wrong with the sig nal. It's standing at clear just now, nnd yet the lever's right for danger. I heard you passing it without slow ing up, nnd then I noticed the signal was wrong. I'm glad you saw the train in front in time to pull up." "Is there a traiu in front?" Duffy asked. "There is. The 7:27 passenger's blocked thorn by a trunk that went off the rails." All at once the whole matter be came clear to Duffy. Armstrong had Iwen trying to wreck the train, and had apparently fallen down into the cutting when putting the finishing touches to this trap for his enemy. Although Duffv thought this perfect ly plain, he did not breathe a word of his thoughts to those around him. Was not his enemy lying dead in tho van? He would let bygones be bygones. "No; we didn't notice that," he laid to the signal-man. "We stop ped lntcause we saw n man lying on the up line." Here the signal man climbed on to the engine, and the up express went thundering past, creating a miniature and momentary hurricane as it went. "It's Armstrong the smith," added Duffy. "He's dead." "Is that so7 the signal-man ex claimed, and then lapsed into silence, feeling unable to say anything ap propriate to the circumstances! ''I'll go up nnd see what's wrong with the signal," Duffy said to the pointsman alter a pause. Beaching the signal, they found the trellis-work of tho signalpost.and let the counterweight fall again. It had not suggested itself to the signal-man that any Connection existed between the dead man on the line and the mys teriously lowered signal; but in spite of Duffy s reticence, tho cause of the ac cident became perfectly apparent to him when he saw the cord attached to the signal counter-weight, nnd put that fact and the fact of Armstrong's being found dead on tho line togeth er. "If ever anything wns providen tial." said tho signal-man, as he nnd Duffy returned to resume their re spective duties "that is. Here's a man that intends to wreckyour train; he falls over the embankment just when he gets the thing arranged; then you cohie. on seemingly, to a certain smash, when you happen to see his body on the line, pull up just in the nick of time, and aro saved." Tho signnl-ma. had not probed the matter to the bottom; for the exact purpose of tho cord had not occurred to him any more than it had to Duffy, Duffy was pained at tjo signal-man's discovery of tho crime, and said nothing. When they had reached tho train, nnd tho signal-man had told his version of the story to Tom and the brakemnn, Duffy, who had stood nsido while the story was be ing narrated, approached tho men and said: 'Now, lads, you know what Armstrong was trying to do, and why he did it; but that is no reason why anybody else should know. We'll not say a word about the sig nal; but when wo tako back the corpse we'll say that we found him dead on the line, nnd that ho had seemingly fallen over tho embank ment down into the deep rock cut ting, nnd leen killed." The three men solemnly promised to do this, nnd in spite of the post mortem examination, in the report on which considerable stress wns laid upon the peculiar naturo of tho wound upon the scalp, ami tho Pro curator Fiscal 's inquiry, no one ever elicited more from these men than Duffy that night allowed them to tell. Strangest fact of all, the engine driver has never told his wife. That is the only secrt-t ho has from her. Chamber's Journal. A Drummer's Lively Experi ence. "Drummers are capable of doing, somo pretty slick things when they want to." The speaker was an ex drummer. "I knew nyoungmember of the 'profesh' " ho continued addresing a reporter, "who play ed good one on a tobacco house in Savannah on one occasion. A fcevere hurricane passed over the southwestern portion of Geor gia, nnd tho young drummer hap pened to bo down in that section at the time. Tho firm here knew that ho wns there, and they wero alarmed They wired, but were unable to get a reply to any of their dispatches, ns tho lines in th.it section were on the ground. The tracks were washed nnd trains did not move for a week. The young drummer, failing to get word from his house, and being un able to leave whero he was stopping, fell in with a company of young men and had a royal big time. He had some prize sample ci gars aud he opened box after box and they were smoked up. Ho had a good deal of premium chewing to bacco and the country boy helped him chew it. When tho weed ended he was without samples. Duringtbe excitement he did not stop to think in what a predicament he would be when he would start out with ascore of empty grips. He 'stuck by the boys, enjoying him self with tho'boys until toward the end of tho week, when he received a dispatch from the houe reading like this: Are you safe? Wire particulars.' It flashed in his mind to put up a pitiful story and he Bent them this: 'Escaped with my life, but samples frone; send more.' If. was a great lit. The proprietors replenished the sample cases and, in addition, sont their representative several boxes cf fine Havunns for his own use." The young man mado his rounds on the extras and came into the city as fresh ns you please, receiving the congratulations of friends and the firm. Self-Judgment. I hoard the other day of a hau.t peculier to a certain merchant hero in Boston which strikes me as being particularly wise and profitable, says Taverner in the Botson Post. Every night on his return home either just before dinner or immediate ly afterward, he sits down and spends from ten minutes to half an hour in thinking over the events of the day. Considering in tho solitude and si lence of his library the various trans actions in which he has taken part, ho concludes in what respect he has done wisely, in what reflect foolish ly, and draws an appropriate lesson for the future. All tho hasty acts which he has committed during the preceding hours are passed in im partial review. He inquires of him self, candidly, whether he did not treat the bookkeeper with injustice, nnd whether the epithet that he ad dressed to Patrick, his coachman, wns a deserved rebuke or merely an ebullition of ill-temper, for which some reparation ought to bo made. In fine, this wise merchant sits in judgment upon himself every twenty-four hours, casting up not only a financial but a moral account, tak ing stock of his business ventures and of thw duty he owes to his fellow man. I doubt not that we should le better, happier, certainly wiser, and probably richer, if wo did likewise. A SPANISH BLUEBEARD There was once a Spanish gentleman cf high rank, who led a very wild aud dissolute life, but now desired to set tle down to his own estate and take to himself a wife, who would preside over his household in a filting fashion. Be ing rich and handsome, his wickedness went for naught; and soon he was be trothed to a lovely lady, whose family were pleased with the alliance, and .who brought him a iiue fortune. The wedding was celebrated with great pomp, nnd ho brought his bride home to his palace, tho poor of the place gathered as usual about the door; aud one a withered old beggar-womanwas loud in her praise of the lady's beauty, and begged to bo per mitted to present her with a boquct of wild flowers that she had gathered in the woods. "A poor offering, my lad,1' said the woman, "but all the poor gypsy has to give." The lady took tho flowers with a smile, and dropped a coin into tho gypsy's hand. As she entered the door she bent her lovely head nnd inhaled tho perfume of the flowers. The servants remembered the ac tion, and her smile, as sho passed into her apartment, leaning on her hus band's arm. for it was the last they ever saw of her. An hour after sho lay dead, and all tho doctors in Madrid could not tell what had killed her. The youug widower was very sad for a long time, but by aud by ho began to find life bright once more, and choso for himself a second wife. This lady was lovelier than tho first, though not 60 rich. Her predecessor's fate did not alarm her, for she was strong and full of health. Death seemed to bo very far from k radiant a creature, as she stood before tho church altar and plighted her troth to tho man with whom she hoped to pass her life; but those who remembered the lirst wife's fate shuddered as at tho fall of even tide she entered tho gates of her hus band's villa. The same old gypsy who had greeted tho former bndo 'stood amidst the crowd. "Heaven and the saints bless you. lady!" she cried. "I greeted her who came before, nnd faded like a flower. May you live until your hair is as white as nunc. Flowers are all I have to give. Will you honor mo by taking them, lady?" The bride, as the other bride had dono, accepted the oli'ering, and re paid the gift with a coin. She held the blossoms loosely in her hand, ana passed into tho liall. A j banquet was prepared, and she par i took of it. Wine was on the hoard; she tasted of it. When the danco ho- gan none danced more gaylv thau tho ride. It was a merry wedding nnd when at last, in the hours of the morn ing, tho music died away, tho guests departed and the lamps were extin guished, the beautiful girl turned, with smiles and blushes to seek her place of rest. As she crossed tho threshhold of the hall she stooped and picked some thing from the floor. "My poor gypsy's flowers," she said. "I will not reject the humble token of kindness." and bending her face over them, 6he passed out of sight. Half an hour afterward the husband also entered tho bridal room. All was still. The lamplight fell over the pi lows, but no fair head rested upou them. He looked about him; in the corner of the room lap what looked like a heap of rumpled satin at first sight. He advanced toward it, and saw a hand that grasped convulsively a little bunch of white flowers, and with a crv of horror, cast himself be side the body of his bride. She was dead; she bore no wound, no sign of injury about her. Again the physi cians" could not find the causo for the death, and people began to whisper tales of jvil spirits who haunted this fatal bridal chamber and did to death the fair beings who braved them by entering it Again the gentleman was a widower; again he suffered much sorrow, but it was not eternal. Ho began in time to seek another bride, but in vain. No one would risk tho fate of those other young and lovely women. No one would have this Bluebeard, the mys teries of whose castle were so terrible, and for years the widower went a-woo-ing without winning, until one morn ing, meeting the Donna Mora on her way to church, her black eyes veiled beancth her black mantilla, he made a grand impression, and was permitted ere long to eflcr his hand and heart with true Spanish gallantry. Donna Mora, who was a widow, lis tened not ill pleased. "I do not detest you, Scnor," she said, "and I frankly tell you so, but ?ou have had strange bridals hereto ore. I do not feel tired of life, and desire to enjoy myself a little longer. Let me know why your first wifo died. You must surely know." 'On my soul, I do not!" said the gentleman. "I believe you," said the lady. -'Listen to me, then. I am ready to mar ry yon, but before I do, I must be al lowed to inspect your bouse from roof to cellar. You must vacate it, and giro mo the keys, and I must go there alone with my sister, I will discover the mysterv, if there is one." "Donna Mora," said the gentleman, "do as you will. I vacato the dwell ing at once. There aro the keys. The long one of steel opens that fatal chamber, which I beg you not to en ter the bridal chamber of my dead brides. Adieu! Thanks for your promise, which I shall hasten to claim when you summon me." He kissed her hand and rode away. She at once made ready to seek the dwelling of which sho had heard so much. Tho lumbering carriage held her, her bister, two brothers, maid, man-servant and pot poodle very well. And, at last, they camo in sight of the old Moorish budding, aud paused to Inspect it. "I begin to tremble," said Donna Anna. "I havo no fears," said Donna Mora. Then sho ordered tho coachman to drive closer, descended and unlocked the gate with her own hands. All wns still; only the echoes welcomed them, Their feet awoke more upon tho 6tairs; they mado Donna Anna verv ous. Donna Mora was as brave as a man. They inspected every room, they peeped into ever) closet, they opened the bridal chamber and saw the dust that had gathered upou its ornaments, and from the neighbors they drew tho whole story all that was known. And for the first time Donna Mora heard of the old gypsy and her flowers, j. Then she waited, pacing the floors of the empty : rooms, while Donna Anna watched from the window, and tho brothers smoked cigarettes in tho court-yard. What was she waiting for? She told no one. At last "Sister, is any one com ing? I thought I heard a step," said she. "It is an old gypsy with some flow ers." said Donna Anna. And Donna Mora said: "Bid hei come in." Then passing between the smoking brothers, who scarcely looked up, and by the little dog, who growled, en tered an old woman, shriveled and yel low, who uourtcsied and said, "May tho good stars shine for tho pretty senoritas and tho bravo scnors. I have heard that the lady who is to be mistress here has come, and I am old and may not livo to see her a bride, and would fain welcome her. Then Donna Mora answered I an tho lady." "Then may I offer a few w ild flew ers." said the gypsy, "and my good wishes for the senor has been my beno factox. A poor gift, lady, but do no! scorn it." Sho held the flowers toward Donna Mora, who took them aud put them down upon the table. "Donna Anna." said she, "bring my clog here. Brothers seize the gypsy. In a moment more tho struggling woman was held in a strong grasp, and Donna Mora, holding her dog in her lap, pressed the flowers to his nostrils. "If he lives, frco her. If he dies, havo her arrested." she said quietly. Donna Anna hid her face. The brothers sternly regarded first the wo man, then tlio dog; tho latter had be gun to tremble. In a moment moro ho uttered a whine, long and terrible to listen to. Donna Mora dropped the flowers. Tho poor creature lay mo tionless across her lap. He was dead. "Have the woman arrested," said Donna Mora, again. "It is sho that has murdered thoso two poor women with her poisoned flowers, as she would havo murdered me." But to the Scnor, when they met onco more, she said this: "I know the ways of gypsies, and their art of poisoning flowers. I know also that an injured gypsy girl is al ways avenged by her tribe. He who is false to ono woman let no other wo man trust. Adieu. N. Y. World, lOrreotcd. When Mary Ann PnUlngr rfottlieekuledaomi tliar on Inlun Jliry I was triad, for I like to bco a ffal maVIn tie lionet wav. I Lccrl torn tat in the vllla& abaout bc flvlu' hljrh. Tew hiirli for lie busy farmer folks withchorct tr dew ter fly; But 1 paid no sorter attention tcr all the talk on tell She cam? in Iter rpg-'lar boardlu' mound te visit with up a Hpoll. MyJak. an' her hal been cronies ever slnos they could w!k, Au' it tuk mo aback to hear her kerrccUn'hln In hU talk. Jake ain't no hand nt rrnmmer, tboufb h hulnt his heat for work : But 1 iejs ter uivpelf, "Look out, mj gal, yei afoolin' with a Turkl" Jake bore it wonderful patient an' said, la mournful way. He p'sutned he wan behindhand with tbedoin'l at Injun Hay. I rememter onco lie was a6kin' fer some o' my Injun bunp. An' she wiid he should all in say, "them atr," tld o' "them is" the ones. Wat, Mary Ann kep' at hluisliddy, mornin' an event n' Ions:, Tell he datxont open Ms mouth fer fear o talk In' wroujr. One diiv I was plckln' currents daown by tbt ofd quiiu-e tree. When I heerd Juke's voice a-sayin', "Be jrt willin' ter marry me? An Mary Ann kerrcctln' "Air ye wllllo yeou sh'd fay." Our Jalco he put hU foot daown. In a plum, d elded way, "No wlin men lolks Is a-goin' tcr be rcarrangta me; Ilcreaf ler I Rays 'craps,' them Is,' 'I calk'lato, an I be. f folks don't like my talk then they needn't hark ter what I ut; Uutl ain't n-poln' ter take no boss from folk from Injun Hay; I atik you f re aud llnal, 'Bo ye coin' ter marry me''" An' Marry Anu Bcz,tremblhV yet anxious-Ilk o, "1 be'." Florence E. Fyatt Tho Congo Itlver of To-Day. From an article under the above ti tle in the Century, by ono of Stauley's former officers, wo "quote tho follow ing: "On tho Congo there are no beasts of burden, there existing merely a manual transport, the porters being the natives of the Cakongo tribe, in habiting tho cataract regions. In phys'que these men are slight and only poorly developed; but tho fact of their carrying on their heads from sixty to ono hundred pounds' weight twenty miles a day for sometimes six consecu tive days, their only food being each day a littlo manioc root. An ear or two of maize, or a handful of peanuts, pro nounces them at once as men of singu larly sound stamina. Small boys of eight and nine years old are frequently met carrying loads of twenty pounds' weight. "Throughout the cataract region tho general accepted money currency is Manchester cotton cloth made up into pieces of bix yards each. The . Eu ropean cost ot tho clotli paid to theso natives for fran?porti ng a load - to Stanley Pool from MaUdi, including rations, amounts at the present day to Ave dollars for a load of sixty-tivo pounds. Five years ago the cost was only one-third of this amount; bat it has increased on account of tho oppo sition of tho various trading houses that they have established stations at Stanley Tool for tho ivory trade on tho upper river." A Saline Country. Everything in tho country of the. River t hai, la central Asia, is described by a recent traveler as covered with salt. It is wen on the walls of the houses and on tho banks of the river, and the water one driuks is very salt. A writer in an eastern journal, talk ing about church choirs, says they have become the training school for the opera stage. "The good deacons may pot bolievo it possible, but a glance at tho history of the most popular son brcttes and prima donnas hows thai they graduated from church choirs." .