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THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE: WASHINGTON. &, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1882.
TEARS, IDLE TEARS,
it .!!.! Lose Story WMk Moral tor Manic
A moonlight night in the wilds of Canada : a
teat, and a camp-lire, and five men sitting be
fore it in various attitudes of slouchy pieiur
osiacaess. They had turned their backs upon
civilization with the one paramount intention
of doing as they pleased. This included many
minor anmsemeute. such as enjoyment of old
clothes, fishing, bunting, cooking, eating, etc..
etc. A novelist, a n rtor. a lawyer, a privat.
citizen, and the public's f.ivorite tenor. Sigi.o:
Bel Santo, made np the pirty. That day one
of the guides had returned from town with
sapplies and the mail. Ik Halbreth, tin
lawyer, had not seemed altogether satisfied
with his communication, making the fact
Imoivn by various shrngs, groans, and whis
tics, which had "given the thing away," ax
Ike Hastings, the reporter, remarked. "Say.
what's the use of sulking? " the private citizen
inquired of Dick, who smoked his pipe in
iucss you d sulk if yon had received such
. . r as I have to-day," Dick replied. "My
w ..'v' says she is so lonesome and so wretched
that she dont see how she can possibly endure
it another week. I don't sec what's the use of
making a fellow uncomfortable. Confound ohl
Pratt, I say! Why couldn't he have brought
sapplies enough in the first place? If he had.
this letter might have been quietly reposing in
lie post-office, instead of bothering me to
"Is your wife sick?" the novelist inquired.
"She don't say anything about being sick.
She was well enough when I came away, bar
ring her red eyes. Heaven help a fellow, I
eay, who is married to a woman who weeps on
"Tears are a sign of sensibility !" said Signor
Del Sante, who had beeu humming softly to
himself, while this conversation was going ou.
"It should give you pride and pleasure that
yonrwife is miserable without yon. Comrades,
would yon be pleased to listen to a little story
of my own? It may not be worth much to any
one beside myself," as the party expressed its
desire to hear it: " but it may, perhaps, be of a
little service. When I was very young, I mar
ried a lady of Genoa. She was very young
also, and very childlike and simple, but singu
larly oxacting. At least that is what it seemed
to rac If I did not come at the exact moment,
then she wept for fear that some accident had
befallen me. When business took me from
home, if my wife couid not Ihj my companion,
then was she inconsolable. It would take me
an honr io make my adieu, and then I would be
compelled to tear her from my arms, and run,
lost she should overtake me, and it would all
Lave to be done over again."
" That's my wife to a dot!" the lawyer in
terrupted, bringing his hand down on his leg
with a resounding slap.
" Well,"' 'l Santc proceeded, "after a while
I became weary of so constaut a display of af
fection, and at last tho clay arrived when I
communicated to my wife my dislike of it.
I cannot and will not submit longer to your
tyranny,' I told her. It has at last become in
Ei.. stable. On account of your tears 1 have
n . ' ttvaQ in the thought of coming home ;
a- "i I am at home 1 cannot enjoy myself,
b I am always tluukingiof ,i4ieHfcqubhi I
b! - r- at parting."
J .:.. a square deal!" Habrpthj4ter
r, . ..':; u a man has a right to expect his
V '; v.'unan, and not a baby."
i, '. hoivdid it work?"tho novelist in
q J k i Sante did not immediately go on
.i -trange effect," bo replied. " My
. e mtradict a single statement that I
h : i'IiI she attempt to defend herself.
:'. 1 'i j house sue received my parting
h 'i . ii the coldness and impassiveness of
. : ijsa!' 1 cried. 'This is not what I
iurfmded. I have only the wish to make you
sensible like other ladies.'
" I can only be myself,' sho said.
"'But you are not yourself now,' I told her.
" 'This is my other self,' she replied.
"'That aay I was more miserable than ever.
Wo were living in Rome at this time, and I was
studying very hard. My voice had begun to
attract attention, and I had obtained a small en
gagement to sing in a very bad opera company ;
but that was nothing, as all I wished was a
chance to show what I could do. My wife had
a wonderful contralto, and we were accustomed
to sing much together. She had been thor
oughly instructed, and was also a fine critic.
Indeed, she was as much my superior in intel
lect as she was in heart."
" Oh ! that's the way the wind blows, is it?"
Dick put in again.
"Say, Dick," the novelist entreated, "it's
Tory bad manners to interrupt the speaker."
"We left our parliamentary manners behind
us," said Dick. "But I'm ninm. Drivo ahead,
"After this," Del Santo resumed, "there
were no more tears, no more demonstrations of
affection.. My wife sang with me when I
wished, or mag for me if I desired. Our friends
frequently commented on the similarity of
some of our tones. We had often amused our
visitors by going into auoLher room, and allow
ing them toguchg which were Rosa's and which
were mine. They v.cro always puzzled. Be
fore people my wife seemed the same as for
merly, because sho was never demonstrative in
" Nor mine, cither," Dick exclaimed. " By
George, those women are as alike as two peas.''
" But when we were alone ! ay, that was in
describable tort u re. My wife replied pleasantly
when I addressed her, but never introduced a
Knbject. When I kissed her she was ice, al
though she never expressed by word or action
that my caresees were unwelcome. This state
of things was a thousand times worse than the
preceding one; ami, of course, could not
long continue. ' Do you know, Rosa, that I
will no longer endure such conduct? ' I said to
Lor, one evening towards, the last.
" ' Yes. I know,' she replied, simply.
"I$ut the worst need not come!' I urged.
'You have only to bo scnsihlo and kind to
make everything as it used to be,'
"She was deadly pale as she turned her eyes
on my face, for a muuicut before answering.
"'There is ro "used to be,'" the said
calmly; 'and that is the worst of all. If I
could remember one time when you did not
scorn my love, I could ls happy many times,
thinkiiig of that: but there never vias, so thcro
is nothin but dolatton to look back upon, as
well - no . :-g to ::nt icipate,'
"A fi v d. .' : '' thL' I left Koine. I aettd
like -" a'.-i 'i villain, but at the time I
hardly knew what I was doing; I was beside
myself with rage and mortification. Then,
again, 1 bad found out how inueh my wife
really was to me, notwithstanding my dissatis
faction iti: the exoesb of her affection. I had
woanded her in the tendered fepot, and beyond
roimration. This is the fault of all mankind.
1 think we seldom appreciate our happiness
until it ' i:'mo"ed.''
" May W," said Dick soio voce.
"After a few months spout in traveling, I
obtained an engagement in Berlin, and my
voice and method came to he well thought of.
indeed, I found myself quite popular. For
some time I persevered in regularly sending
remittances to my wife, but tho money was
always returned n ithont a word."
" I don't know whether my wife would do
that or not," Dick remarked, speculatively.
"'Suppose yon try and find out?" the novelist
suggested, a'-gnna'cd beyond endurance by his
" Not that," said the tenor, gravely. "Loving,
sensitive women are the same all over the world,
,nu your wife would douhflt ss send your money
' :i k just as mine did. Well, one day I met with
misfortune. A severe cold, which kept nv
;u bed for many weeks, left my voice thick and
uncertain. My mauarrer was kind, and the
jniMic indulgent, but after a whilo it began to
V noised about that Siirnor Del Sante had lost
his voice. My enemies I had but a few, bui
ihoymadeup in ferocity what they locked it
numbers set about to ruin me. The high
:otes, those that had chiefly made my reputa
:iou in fact, were for a long time quite unat
tainable. My physician assured mo that llw
slightest eflbrt to sing would be disastrous. 1
kuew" it would be the death of my reputation
to sing iu public, and so I kept ou making cx-
nes until the time arrived when I must either
-iug or sacrifice my position. One day my
manager said to me. 'Del Sante, you must tike
vonr place right away, or 1 shall be obliged to
find some one to fill it. I sympathize with you
fully, but the fact is, your long illness h.i
almost ruind me. Suppose wo have a private
rchear-al, and let me see how you make out.' I
refused this, but agreed to appear the follow in,'
week. I had so far recovered thai I could man
age most of the music as well as ever. Indeed
1 did not know but forced rest would enable
me to do better with the part than 1 ever bad
done. But the high notes! I dared not prac
ticc for fear of making things worse. Then
was one song which had always been received
with the greatest enthusiasm. In fact, it seemed
as if the audiences could never get enough of it.
There were several ad libihnr parages, and so
I had accustomed the people to considerable
elaboration. The finale had always taxed my
voice to the utmost, and such is the inconsist
ency and ignorance of even cultured audiences,
that a better performance than usual in all the
rest of my part, would not have compensated
for tho omission of a single rocket in tho last
display. Tho night came at last, and I ap
peared according to announcement. My wcl
como was somewhat questionable, but after
the second act I was called before tho curtain.
This would have been comforting if it had not
been for the hisses that I knew were waiting
for me in the last act. Nothing could avert
them, I was sure. There was nothing to do
but to alter the closiug part, and take the con
sequVnecs. As I left my dressing-room, all
ready for the sacrifice, the prompter handed
me a little uoto. This is what it said : "Appear
i o t:ike E, and trust the rest to Bosa."
"How's that for high?" Dick exclaimed,
with singular appropriateness.
"Ah! comrades! if 1 could describe to you
my feelings at this moment! I was in ecstasy.
I was in despair. I was warm to suffocation.
I was cold as ice. I was a saint in Paradise.
I was a sinner in lowest hell. 1 was all things.
I was nothing. Something of my state of feel
ing must have communicated itself to tho
house, for.beforc I opened my mouth, the peo
ple were with xSo. It was fully five minutes
before they would allow me lo commence the
"Ah ! if I had failed at iho last, what a stu
pendous failure it would have beeu, after such
enthusiasm. But, comrades, I did not sing to
those people. 1 sang to Rosa. Iler little note
was nest my heart, and the frag'tance of it
made everything sweet about me. Wo had
practiced together so much iu this very way,
that I knew exactly what weald lit' Lei' method
of attack, and she did not disappoint me. I
appeared to tako E as I was told. After the
supreme cifort of the evening, I could not have
touched it even. Oh ! how her voice rang out !
How clear and brave was the tone. 1 have had
many ovations in my life, but never such an
one. I returned to the stage a do.en times at
least, but I did not dare repeat the song for
fear the ruso might possibly be disco ered. So
the manager went on, and akcd the indulgence
of the house for Signor Del Sante, whose eutjiu
oiasm for his art, and devotion to his audiences,
had already led him to mako more effort than
his strength would permit. There was only one
person in tho house beside myself who knew
what had been done, and he wsis the prompter,
whose placo Kosa had occupied during the
song. 1 was alone ou tho stage, aud stood
exactly in front of the prompter's box."
"Didn't you sing the next night?" the re
porter inquired, after a moment's pause.
" No, nor for many weks afterward. I had
convinced the people of my continued ability,
and could easily have been excused until 1 was
perfectly recovered. Kosa, you sec, had not only
saved me, but 6hc had saved the manager also.
As long as his tenor had proved that his voice
was not impaired, why, tho public would ac
cept eomo other opera in which ho was not
cast. But "
"But what?" Dick inquired, impatiently.
"When Is your wife now, Del Sante?"
"Iu Heaven, my fiiend. She died in my
arms, two weeks after this memorable evening;
and, lialbri-th, I have the incxpretbiblo misery
of knowing that I killed her by my cruelty
and meanness. I tried to transform the sweet
est and most loving woman that ever lived
into a lukewarm every -day creature, whom, if
I hail been successful, I could never have cued
about. The women who weep, and are lonely
without their husbands, are not necessarily
weak or babyish. Oh! no. My Iio3a wjls
stronger and better than J, but I did not know
how to value her until th was gone from mo
" You bad time to make some explanations,
didn't you, Signor?" Dick inquired in ji chok
" Yes, she knew at last that I loved her," Del
Sante replied; "and that knowledge, sho told
xne, would make her happy until we were
again united. If 1 did not believe that this
was the truth, I should curse myself night and
day. Comrades, J have imagined all tho time
I have been talking, that Kosa was listening to
me. If my experience could do any of you
good, 1 am sure sho would wish me to relate it,
for she was noble, unselfish, and true ; and I 1
am a. repentant, luart-aching man, the lonely
tenor of tho 'Itival Opera Company,' whoso
popularity is duo to the wife he scorned aud
Dick Ifalbrcth started for town early the
next morning, and telegraphed his wife that he
would sunt at once for home, if she said tho
word. Sho replied that sho was feeling much
better, and to stay and have a good time; so
the party remained unbroken. J'hrcnologicai
Thelittle town of Axminstcr, Devonshire,
England, became famous by reason of its car
pits in 17.". They were woven in one piece,
but until lKy this involved so much lime that
it causal them to be few in number, and enor
mously expensive. In that year it occurred to
Mr. Templeton, a Paisley shawl manufacturer,
that the process adopted in wenving chenille
shawls might be applied lo Axuiinstcr carpets,
and this greatly i educed their price, although
they are yet very costly. The linn of Temple
ton te Co., of Glasgow, still do marly all the
weaving by hand. They have designing estab
lishments in London and Glasgow, whuro
nearly .one hundred persons are employed.
VFhuyare now making a carpet for the library
at the White House, and some, for Mr. Vander
bilt. They some time since made for tho King
of 'Siam a carpet 100 feet by 3-1. Its centre was
a three-headed white elephant. A carpet made
for the King of Denmark, as a present to the
Mikado, iv presented a menagerie. One, 71 by
f2, woven for the Sultan, was valued at $8,000.
FACTS WORTH KNOWING.
Tae Practical Shlo or I.ifo in Inla.stry and in
According to the report of Director Burchard
of the U. S. Mint, tluro was in circulation
throughout the United States, at the close of tb
present fiscal y.v.r. $71S,.f0,STG in gold and sil
ver coin. The total amount of paper and me
talic currency was 1.." 13.710. 132. Large us tin
nms arc, our currency cannot comparo in vol
ume to that of Great Britain or France. There
is s'mwn to be $57 pr c ipita of money in circu
l.i'ion in France, while in this country the sim
per capita is $31. Our population and monetary
necessities are increasing, while those of Frnno
. re stationary or decreasing. We ought to havt
more money, especially metal ic, as we are th,
great bullion producers of the world.
London contains .1,78P,657 inhabitants; a
population nearly equal to thai or the who!.
Slate of New York. Last year 2fi,170 houses,
covering a length of eighty miles, were built in
that city. This vast human hive extends, from
its center to its circumference, about fifteen
miles, that is, its diameter average about thirty
miles. Out of this vast multitude last year,
twenty-three children and 150 adults tolallj
disappeared, leaving no trace. Fifty-fou v
bodies were found which could not be identi
fied. What a world of criin- and misery is in
volved in this vast aggregation of human
beings known as the City of London.
Statisticians cannot account for the world's
consumption of one fish the herring. Russia.
Germany, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland not
only supply their own needs, but have quanti
ties of these fish to export. Independent of
all this supply, Scotland alnie produces enough
to satisfy the world's demand for this one article
of food. Tn 1S61 the herring catch of Scotland
consisted of 1,111,155 barrels. In ISoO the
supply was still larger by some 350,000 barrels.
Frosh herring sold immediately after being
caught aro not included in theso enormous
totals. Heretofore the query has been : What
becomes of tho myriad of pins which arc
manufactured; but from this time forth the great
statistical conundrum will be : Who cats all the
People who arguo that a national debt is a
national blessing, really furnish some argu
ments which seem to confirm that paradoxical
expression. France has tho greatest national
debt, but tho French people arc the most well-to-do
in the world. Tho property of that
country is well distributed ; there aro no
Vanderbilts or Jay Goulds in la belle France.
On tho other hand it is alio truo that nations
with very littlo of debt are often very poor.
Comparing analogously tho different national
debts, wo shall sec for how much ovory indi
vidual in each slate is responsible :
United States li,l.V.no0,OT0
Austria-Hungary - H.l.'V.OflO,0,0
Italy - 10.WiP,fioQ,0i
Therefore, by division, it appears that
Kvery Frenchman owes i... 850
livery ICnlishtnun owes . 579
Kiery Dutchman oivis. , 521
Kvery Spniriard owes....- 37i
Kvitv Italian owe "
Kvery Austrian owes .tfr i '
Kvery American owes .'. &-
Kvery Helsmn owes ,...', ,...T2j I j
Kverv OtimHii owes -. '.".)
Kvery IvusMan owes : 91
These tables are worth hearing in mind, when
the subject of national debts is discussed. The
United States wiis cerfainly better off after the
great debt contracted during the rebellion, than
she was beforo the war broko out. But then it
still remains a fact, that for nations as for indi
viduals, it is best to have a largo iucomo and
It is no wonder that Americans take natur
ally io arithmetic. We love ciphering, because
all tho tables we compile reveal our great na
tional progress. The census shows, that whilo
in 1F7Q wo had 5,922,471 agriculturists, the
number increased in 180 to 10,710,000. In
1870 wo lrad 2.707,121 manufacturers, which
number increased in 1RF0 lo 5,250,000. The
wages in our manufacturing establishments in.
creased from $378.87S,!W( in lrttfO to $1,500,000,
OhO in 1330. Then look at (ho vast accumula
tion of property in this country. In 1800 the
wealth of England was estimated at $0,000,
000,000, while, the United States was but littlo
over $1,000,000,000. In lSO the figures stood :
Great Britain, $1-5 ,000,000,000; tho United
According to the latest and best authorities
the total population of (he globe is 1,433,00,
000; this is a less number by some 22,000,000
than the-best former climates; but as a mat
ter of fact it is known that tho human race is
rapidly increasing in numbers. But it has
been found that statisticians have been largely
overestimating the population of China, which
is now supposed to ho about 379,000,000. Tho
number of people inhabit aling tho larger divis
ions of the globe, as given by Kehm and Wag
ner, aro as follows: Europe, 327,713,000; Asia,
793.591,000; Africa, 205,823,000; America, 100,
415,000; Australia and Polynesia, 4.232,000;
Polar regions, 82,000 ; Russia is credited with
83,000,000 inhabitants; China, 379,000,009;
Japan, 30,000,000, and British India, 252,000,000.
The largest well in the world is now being
dug in Wilmington, California, it is twenty-five
feet in diameter, and is so built that the bottom
is much wider than the top. Thcro is room in
it for somo thirty men lo work. The wate1"
supply is so abundant, that tho whole town of
Wilmington is supplied, and (here is enough lo
spare to supply the ships in a port near by.
The idea of making the firo-box of a stove, or
tho grate of a fire-place, rotato or turn over
upon its axis, has been made the subject of ex
periment. A basket grate, supported on trtinn.
ions at each end, has been tried with some
success, and more recently an iron fire-grate
has been made that can ho turned over as often
as may he needed. The gralo is spherical,
with an opening on opposite sides, each open
ing being closed by a cover having perforations.
The fire is built inside tho grate, and tho grate
is filled with coal, and the cover put on. When
well started, tho grato may bo turned over,
bringing tho fire on top of tho fuel. When it
is desired to remove tho ashes, tho grato is
turned round quickly by means of a handle on
tho outside of tho stove. To hasten tho fire,
the grate may be turned over, bringing tho firo
under the fuel, and to extinguish tho firo, it is
only necessary to close tho dampers and turn
tho grato swiftly for a moment or two. The
gralc is designed to bo applied to any circular
stove, and appears to bo an improvement ou
tho revolving basket grate.
Vh:t'ti Sated is Gained.
Workingmen will economize by employing
Dr. Pierce's Medicines, llis " Pleasant Purga
tive Pellets" and "Golden Medical Discovery"
cleanse the blood and system, thus preventing
fevers and other fcerious diseases, and curing all
tcrofulous and other humonj. Sold by drug
gists. Berlin, with over 1,160,000 population, has
only forty-five places of worship.
OUR YOUNG FOLKS,
Joe Lambert's Ferry. A Story of a
Western River Town.
By Qcorgc Cary Eggleslon
It was a thoroughly disagreeable March
morning. The wind blow in sharp gusts fron
very quarter of the compass by turns. It
s emed to tako especial delight in rushing snd
denly around corneis aud taking away th'
breath of anybody it could catch there comin;.
from tho opposite direction. The dust, too
filled people's eyes and noses and mouths, whit
tho damp, raw March air easily feund its wa?
:hrough the best clothing, and turned boys
shins into pimply goose-flesh.
It was about as disagreeable a morning for
oing out as can be imagined ; and yet every
body in the little Western river town whi
could get out went out and stayed out.
Men nnd women, hoys and girls, and even
little children, ran to the river-bank; and,
once there, they stayed, with no thought, it
seemed, of going back to their homes or then
work. The people of tho town wero wild with ex
citement, and everybody told everybody el-
what had happened, although everybody knew
all about it already. Everybody, I mean, ex
cept .Too Lambert, and ho had been so busy
over sineo daylight, sawing wood in Sqniu
Grisard's woodshed, that he had neither seen
nor heard any! hing at all. Joe was tho poorest
person iu (he town. He was the only boy
there, who really had no home and nobody te
care for him. Threo or four years before this
March morning .foe had been loft an orphan,
and being utterly destitute, ho should have
been scut to tho iworhouse, or "bound out"' to
somo person as u sort of servant. But Joe
Lambert had refused to go to the poorhouse or
to become a bound boy. Tic had declared his
ability to take care of himself, and by working
hard at odd jobs, sawing wood, rolling barrels
on (he wharf, picking apples or weeding onions
as opportunity offered, he had inanascd to sup
port himself "after a manner,'' as the Village
peojde said. That is to say, he generally got
cuAiigh to cat aud somo clothes to wear. He
slept in a warehouso shed, tho owner having'
given him leavo to do so on condition that he
would act as a- sort of watchman on the
Joe Lambert alono of all the villagers knew
nothing of what had happened; and of course
Joe Lambert did not count for anything in the
estimation of people who had houses to live in.
Tho only reason I have gone out of the way to
make an exception of so unimportant a person
is, that I think Joe did count for something ou
that particular March day at least.
When ho finished the pile of wood that ho
had to saw, and went to the house to get his
money, he found nobody there. Going down
tho street ho found tho town empty, aud, look
ing down a cross street, he saw tho crowds that
had gathered on tho river-hank, thus learning at
last that something unusual had occurred. Of
course he ran to the river to learn what it was.
When he got thero he learned that Noah
Martin the fisherman who was also tho ferry
man between tho village and its neighbor on
tho other side of the river, had been drowned
during the early morning in a foolish attempt
to row his ferry skiff across tho stream. The
ico which had blocked tho river for two
months, had begun to move on tho day boforc,
and Martin with his wifo and baby a child
about a year old wero on the other side of the
river at the time. Early on that morning
there had beeu a temporary gorging of the ice
about a mile abovo the town, and, taking ad
vantage of tho comparatively free channel,
Martin had tried to cross with Ins wife and
child, in his boat.
The gorge had broken up almost immedi
ately, as the river was rising rapidly, and Mar
tin's boat had been caught and crushed iu the
ice. Martin had been drowned, but his wife,
with her child in her arms, had clung to the
wreck of tho skiff, aud had been carried by the
current to a little low-lying island just in front
of tho town.
What had happened was of less importance,
however, than what people saw must happen.
The poor woman and baby out thoro on the
island, drenched as they had been in tho icy
water, must soon die with cold, and, moreover,
tho island was now nearly under water, while
the great stream was rising rapidly. It was
evident that within nn hour or two tho water
would sweep over tho whole surface of tho
island, and tho great fields of ico would of
course carry the woman and child to a terrible
Many wild suggestions were made for their
rescue, but nono that gavo the least hopo of
success. 1 1 was simply impossible to launch a
boat. The vast fields of ice, two or threo feet
in thickness, and from twenty feet to a hundred
yards in breadth, wero crushing and grinding
down the river at tho rato of four or fivo miles
an hour, turning and twisting about, sometimes
jamming their edges together with so great a
force that one would lap over another, and some
times drifting apart and leaving wide open
spaces between for a moment or two. One
might as well go upon such a river in an egg
shell as in tho stoutest rowboat ever built.
The poor woman with her babo could bo seen
from tho shore, standing thero alone on tho
rapidly narrowing strip of island. Her voice
could not reach tho people on tho bank, but
when sho held her poor littlo baby toward
them in muto appeal for help, tho mothers
thero understood her agony.
Thero was nothing to bo dono, howovor.
Human sympathy was given freely, but human
help was out of the question. Everybody on
the rivcr-shoro was agreed in that opinion.
Everybody, that is to say. except Joe Lambert.
He had been so long in tho habit of finding
ways to help himself under difficulties that be
did not easily mako up his mind to think any
No sooner did Joo clearly understand how
mattors .stood than ho ran away from (he crowd,
nobody paying any attention to what ho did.
Half an hour later somebody cried out: "Look
thcro! Who's that, and what's ho going to
do?" pointing up tho stream.
Looking in that direction, tho pooplo saw
somo oim three-quarters of a mile away stand
ing on a floating field of ice in the river, llo
had a largo farm-basket strapped upon his
shoulders, whilo in his hands he held a plank.
As tho ico-field upon which he stood n cared
another, (ho youth ran forward, throw his
plank down, making a bridge of it, and crossed
lo tho farther field. Then picking up his
plank, ho waited for a chance tq.rcpcat tho
As he (bus drifted down the river, every eje
was strained in his direction. Presently somo
ono cried out: "It's Joo Lambert; and bo's
trying to cross lo tho island ! "
There was a shout as tho people understood
the naturo of Joe's heroic attempt, and then a
hush as its cxlrcmo danger became apparent.
Joe had laid his plans wisely and well, but it
seemed impossible that he should succeed, llis
purpo.-o was, with tho aid of a plank to cro.-.s
from ono ice-field to another until ho should
reach the island ; but as that would require a
good deal of time, and tho ice was moving
down stream pretty rapidly, it was necessary
to start at a point abovo tho town. .Too had
gone about a mile up tho river before going on
the ice, and when first seen from the town he
had already reached the channel.
After that first shont a whisp-r might have
been heard in the crowd on the bank. The
heroism of the poor boy's attempt awed the
spectators, and the momentary expectation
that he would disappear forever amid the
crushing ice-fields, made thorn hold their
breath in anxh ty and terror.
His greatest danger was from tho smaller
cakes of ice. When it becamo necessary fur
him to step upon ono of these, his weight wn
uflicient to mako it tilt, and his footing wa
vcry insecure. After awhile as ho was ncaring
rho island, he came into a large collection of
hesC smaller ice-cakes. For awhile he waited
hoping that a larger field would drift near
'n'm ; but after a minute's delay he saw that he
vas rapidly floating past tho island, and that
ic must either trust himself to the treachcr
ius broken ice, or fail in his attempt to sav
:ie woman and child.
Choosing the best of the floes, ho laid hi-
(Iank and passed across successfully. In th'
icxt passage, however, tho cake tilted up, and
Joe Lambert went down into tho water! A
-hudder passrd through tho crowd on shore.
"Poor fellow!' exclaimed some tender
leartcd spectator; "it is all over with bin;
" No ; look, look ! " shouted another. " He'
I rying to climb upon tho ice. Hurrah ! he's on
his feet again!" With that tho whole com
pany of spectators shouted for joy.
Joe had managed to regain his plank as well
.is to climb upon a cake of ico before the field
around could crush him, and now moving cau
.!iu;Iy,hc made his way, little by little toward
"Hurrah! nurrah! he's thero at last!'"
shouted tho peojde on the shore.
" But iviil he get back again ?" was tho ques
tion each one asked himself a moment later.
Having reached the island, Joe very well
knew that tho morn difficult part of his task
was still before him, fir it was one thing for an
active boy to work his way over floating ice,
and quite another (o carry a child and lead a
woman upon a similar journey.
But Joo Lambert was quick-witted and
"long-headed," as well as brave, and he meant
to do all that ho could to save these poor crea
tures for whom he had risked his life so heroic
ally. Taking out hL? knife ho made the wo
man cut her skirts off at tho knees, so that she
might walk and leap moro freely. Then
placing the baby in the basket which was
strapped upon bis black, he cautioned the
woman against giving way to fright, and in
structed her carefully about tho method of
On the return journey .Too was able to avoid
ono great risk. As it was not necessary to land
at any particular point, time was of little conse
quence, aud hence when no largo field of ice
was at hand, he could wait for ono to approach,
without attempting to mako uso of the smaller
ones. Leading tho woman wherever that was
necessary, he slowly mado his way toward
shore, drifting down the river, of course, while
all tho people of tho town marched along the
When at last Joo leaped ashoro in company
with the woman, and bearing her babe in tho
basket on his back, the people seemed ready to
trample upon each other in their eagerness to
shako hands with their hero.
The hero was barely able to stand, however.
Drenched as he had been in the icy river, the
sharp March wind had chilled him to tho mar
row, and one- of the village doctors speedily
lifi'ed "liim into his carriago which ho had
brought for that purpose, and drove rapidly
away, while the other physician took chargo
of Mrs. Martin and tho baby.
Joo was a strong, healthy fellow, and nnder
tho doctors treatment of hot brandy and
vigorous rubbing with coarse towels, ho soon
warmed. Then he wanted to saw enough
wood for the doctor to pay for his treatment,
and thereupon tho doctor threatened to poison
him if he should ever venture to mention pay
to him again.
Naturally enough the village people talked
of nothing but Joo Lambert's heroic deed, and
tho feeling was general that they had never
done their duty toward the poor orphan boy.
There was an eager wish to hrlp him now, and
mauj' offers were made to him ; but theso all
took the form of charity, and Joo would not
accept charity at all. Four years earlier, as I
havo already said, he had refused to go to the
poorhouse or to bo "bound out," declaring
that he could tako care of himself, and when
some thoughtless person bad said in his hear
ing that he would have to live on charity, Joe's
rcjily had been :
" I'll never cat a mouthful in this town that
I havn't worked for if I starve." And he had
kept his word. Now that ho was fifteen years
old ho was not willing to begin receiving
charity even in tho form of a reward for his
One d.iy when somo of tho most prominent
men of tho village were talking to him on the
subject Joe said :
"I don't want anything except a chance to
work, but I'll tell you what you may do for mo
if you will. Now that poor Martin is dead tho
ferry privilege will be to lease again, and I'd
like to get it for a good long term. Maybe I can
make something out of it by being always ready
to row people across, and I may even be ablo to
put ou something better than a skiff after
awhile. I'll pay the village what Martin paid."
The gentlemen were glad enough of achauco
to do Joo even this small favor, and thero was
no difficulty in tho way. Tho authorities
gladly granted Joe a lease of tho ferry privi
lege for twenty years, at twenty dollars a year
rent, which was the rato Martin had paid.
At first Joe rowed people back and forth,
saving what money he got very carefully. This
was all that could be required of him, but it
occurred to Joo that if he had a ferry-boat big
enough, a good many horses aud cattle and a
good deal of freight would be sent across the
river, for he was a " long-headed '' fellow as I
Ono day a chance offered, and bo bought for
(wenty-five dollars a large old wood boat, which
was simply a square barge forty feet long and
fifteen feet wide, with bevelled bow and stern,
mado to hold cord wood for the steamboats.
With his own bands ho laid a stout deck on
this, and, with the assistance of a man whom
ho hired for that purpose, he constructed a pair
of paddle wheels. Ily that tirno Joe was out of
money, and work on the boat was suspended
for awhile. When he had accumulated a little
moro money, ho bought a horso power, aud
placed it iu the middle of his boat, connecting
it with tho shaft of his wheels. Then ho made
a rudder aud holm, and his horse-boat was
ready for use. It had cost him about a hun
dred dollars besides his own labor upon it, but
it would carry livo stock and freight as well as
passengers, aud so tho business of the ferry
rapidly increased, aud Joo began to put a littlo
money away in tho bank.
After awhilo a railroad was built into the
village, and then a second one came. A year
later another railroad was opened on the other
side of tho river, and all tho passengers who
camo to ono village by mil had to be ferried
across the river in order to continue their jour
ney by tho railroads there. The horse-boat
was too small and too slow for the business, and
Joo Lambert had to buy two steam ferry-boats
to tako its place. Theso cost moro nioney than
ho had, but, as tho owner of tho ferry privilege,
his credit was good, and tho boats eoon paid
for themselves, while Joe's bank account grew
Finally tho railroad people determined to ran
through cars for passengers and freight, and to
"rry thorn across the river on largo boats built
for that purpose; but before they gave their
orders to their boat builders, they were waited
upon by the attorneys of Joe Lam!ert, who
soon convinced them that his ferry privilege
gave him alono tho right to ran any kind of
Terry -beats between the two villages which had
iow grown to such a size that they called them
ielves cities. The result was that the railroads
nade a contract with Joe to carry their cara
across, and ho had some large boats built for
All this occurred a good many years ago, and
Foe Lambert is not called Joo now, but Captain
Lambert. Ho is ono of tho most prosperous
cn in the little river ciry, and owns many
'argo river steamers besides his ferry-boats.
Nobody is readier than ho to help a poor boy
r a poor man ; but he has his own way of
doing it. He will never toss so mnch as a cent
io a beggar, but he never refuses to give man
r boy a chance to earn money by work. Ho
las an odd theory that money which cornea
vithout work does moro harm than good.
The Ohl I'ost Office.
From the JS'nv York Times.
In tearing down the old post office, the work-
nen found an almanac bearing the date of 1793
.md round, as if for pocket use, which was
taken from a crevice in the wall. It was in a good
.tate of preservation. The workmen have alo
found a large number of copper and silver coins.
Vmong the former are pennies of the time of
George I, a Connecticut penny of 1787, and
United States cent and half-cent pieces dated
;n tho latter part of tho last and the early
,iarfc of tho present century. Among tho
-.ilver coins is a beautiful specimen about!
the size of a twenty-cent piece. One sido
of it is in a perfect state of his preservation.
In tho centre is a female head; above is tho
word Liberty, and below the date 17S3.
A Strict Disciplinarian.
From the Youth's Companion.
Russian discipline is so strict that 16 seernn
tyrannical. The following auccdote of tho late
General Scobelefl', who was a rigid disciplinar
ian, impresses the reader painfully. For an
officer has no right to tempt a soldier to do that
which, if done, would result in his being pun
ished with death.
ScobelefF's vedettes wero never caught nap
ping, nis knowledge of the detail of military
duty was universal even to sounding all tho
bugle calls. An illustration of tho discipline
of his corps occurs to me.
I had been talking with him of military
breech-loaders and diseussing tho merits of
various systems. Taking a "Berdan," with
which tho troops were latterly armed, from a
soldier, he undid the breech and lock and ex
plained the mechanism with tho precision of a
Returning tho riflo to the soldier, ho turned,
and walking up to tho sentry a few paces dis
tant, ho said : " Let me see your rifle " eitend
ing his hand as he spoke.
The man saluted and replied, "I cannot,
your excellency." "But I want to see if it i3
clean," persisted tho General. "I cannot, yoar
excellency," again said the sentry, a3 firm as a
ScobclofT smiled, pulled his ears, and walked
on. I asked an explanation, whereupon he said
that a rule of war with him was that no sentry
on duty was on any account to give up posses
sion of his arms not even to the Czar him
self. " Hut," said I, "suppose the sentry had givon
up his riflo when you were seemingly so serious
iu asking it. What then ? " " Ho would havo
been shot," quietly replied tho General, "for
disobedienco to orders in time of war."
A Christian college in New Mexico i3 some
thing worthy of being chronicled. The corner
stone was laid October 21st of the University
of New Mexico, the first incorporated Protest
ant Christian College in that Territory.
Four O'Clock Music.
By Mrs. Clara Doty Bates.
Three things in grandpa's kitchen
Pipe up a merry tune,
As Journeys toward the ruddy west
Tho winter afternoon.
Thero, firstly, is the kettle,
Just set upon the fire,
With bright, old-fashioned, homely face,
As lender of the choir.
"Ve sometimes call it "the Deacon; "
The reason, I suppose,
la because it lias that quavering way
Of singing through iU nose.
And next, a cricket Is hidden
About the fireplace
("We can only hear hid serenades
"We never see his face ;)
And from his favorite corner
Comes such incesant din,
That I'm sure hid crooked elbows acha
Scraping that violin.
And, lastly, the kitten, "Winkle,
"Who has a tip;erS fur
The soft wool of the fireside rutr
Is jungle gra-s to her
Sines, too, with a inufllcd ripplo
Fluttering along her throat,
Wa-'hine;, meanwhile, with tidy pair
Iler whiskers and her coat.
But why in grandpa's kitchen,
This winter afternoon,
Do kettle and cricket and little cat
Each pipe a happy tune?
"Why, Ted nnd the little girl Gold-Lockfl
Have been in school all day ;
They'll bo coining home about this time,
Snowballing all the way.
And thoir eyes will have such sparkle,
Their cheeks such frosty rose,
That if you were here to see the sight
You might sing too who know?
By A ndrew B. Saxton.
After October's biting frost it seems
That summer days return. The partridge whirs
A noisy wing to ambush in the firs;
And for i while the .sun retricks his beams.
It is an autumn that of spring-time dreams.
The warm breeze comc- again, nnd softly stlra
The silent tree-top", and tho empty burs
Which, loosened, dropiiitothelcaf-cloggedstrcama.
Ah! dear, tins tardy sunshine, nnd the last I
So shall we find our summer being past,
And hoar-frost with us for n little breath
So fair a country, such a genial nir;
And shall forget our woes, and unawaro
Step over to tho border-lnnd of death !
A Eis3 for Ilamma.
By liosa Karttcick Thorp.
Tho car was all ready, tho aeronaut B&ylaj:
A few last words ere ho sailed away
To tho far, blue sky where the sunbeams straying
Blade perfect tho glorious summer day ;
Whilo thousands uuil thousands wero gathering
To wish him good journey, nnd bid him good-bye.
A wee little maid with her sunny huir falling
Back from her Iwautiful, childish brow,
Sprang away from her nurse, her baby voice
MAn' p'ease, Mr. Man, may I do norrl
I want to do up wiv 'oo in 'e sky.
To fiud my own mamma an' tiss 'er dood-bye.
He kissed the sweet face, while tho tear-drops
On mniiv a cheek hardened with care;
no uiu-lasned the arms round his neek fondly
And sailed from the little one standing there;
But a sweet voice rose to him, clear and free,
" Tell mamma I's dood dirl, an' tiss 'er fo' me!
December Wide Awake.