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title: 'The National tribune. (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, March 01, 1883, Page 2, Image 2',
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THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE: WASHINGTON, D. 0., THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 18S3.
A-ijfonVirafeg to Masgucmdcrs
k Ma& Attire.
Afssr runnings flight of carpetlcs stairs,
and Bitn nt lig barricade of d ry-goods lioxes.
it was tike stcnping over the thr jshoid of Pnra-die-tocr
fiat czv lit Jo sitting-room. A
jt--.sha4 4 Um was softly fen mine on the
tabk a-4d Ciir-fiwwd girl r.ui h r fingers over
ti)ftik n-iccpvoliiitg a km. wvt melody.
Tw jriii MJ pfouio was one in the house
yit!i 'm viyaIM unt and two servants; for
lijcv h.A :u-t n;ov;d in a ft n days belore, and
theVc .t of Hiv tovzWv bad not yet arrived.
' wit fMk-mu room habitable," she
tad-soi-l. So the i-ictan-s awl books were un
lMckyduh;ui rictar.aud a cozy refuse was
cotTiv; in lav n.ii4t of the general chaos.
Miss la ?re waiving on the lounge, with
hst-s-ro n beewe "her eyes and tin patter
of the rt.n on th windows w.i tm only varia
tion of .h- n-usbr, except a-i owasional p.Ki'.ul-
ug dvw fit .irs, the sw ish -sWbJi of n ssrub-lMt'-Wa-.a.
Bnt-jwser.t there was a hurried hobbling
step, and .'tl Ilannah tbrnst her head in the
door wHfcat creunv.
Oi. I-'. Mta Hoi-tyr she cd, in (be
mast abj Terror. June's smashed the look-,iir-ea.4,a-J
cut heroclf awful. She's bleedin'
to deih '"
5!:. lic:ys hands fell on the keys with a
rrali. biore her annt had time to utter a
lit Me :-vtri--l wrtam, she had smarted down
stair i i kitchen.-wh-re Jane was walking
around I ko a lunatic, w..i!ing and shaking her
ana. Irm wim ihc 1.1 ri was flowing rapidly.
"trXand -i 1 !" Mis B tty demanded, whip
ping out b-r hjiidkereahif, and twisting it
li.'htly a!out 1-bo girl's arm above the woni.d.
" You "have cut an artery: but don't bo fright
cued. I"!! fix it in a minute."
Miss La Brve OMine flown s'airs wringing her
kaad. ani old Hannah ImbMing after her.
Oh. iWy."' she ft'ed nervously, "what
shsll ro.!o: litiw psrl'.'ct.ly dreadful. Jane,'
Jane! How e'ihi you tin such a thing?"
Jane only i'ohorte. the Iuder,and Miss Celty
gave her aunt a look of de ) -iuninca:ic:;.
"Thersis no oceasioa for alsirai," she said,
severely. "Hold Ibis handkerchief, please,
Aunt AHele. Tne blo-nl won't Hon as Ions as
you'keep ("Hat twisted tightly. I am going for
Doctor Dneie."- "
Miss Is&TJroe uttered another exclamation of
dismay. " ,.'"'
"Yon eanf go alone," jkariiH. "Xoi at
tbw tiaie of nighvaiut iH this dreadful
" I mr.st. and I will;" Betty answered.
" It's a mtle and' a half to Doctor Ducie's,"
Ler aunt rr'nioarRt-rd. " Can't we manage till
.luorainjr. Dety? Poinethiug awful will hap
pen to.you on the way."
"Let it happen, ifi't will," she said fearlessly.
"But it w o't. I'm going, Annt Adele. Be
sure and d.uft loosen ih handkerchief."'
With t'lii -h. starts! ujsuirs, and seized
Ler gosnuer out of an open !h)x in the hall.
The box w.is Bile"! with her brother Frank's
winter clothes, ami. at the ight of them, a
Wild idea iiashoti .into her brain. She had
spoken resolutely, but she had no more fancy
ibr this nocturnal mission than any other girl of
What if she were to put on Frank's clothes?
She could then go with impunity. The idea
gn-w up m h"r, and before many moments
passed, the rose--haded lamp revealed a boyish
iinure. el'td in dsrk-green pantaloons and an
English jacket, and a face .smiling at the reflection-in
MfSB Belly laughed softly, for her sliort early
hair made the illusion so perfect that anyone
who didn't know her would have sworn that
eIk- was a boy of about fiileen.
Mit-s la Broe wou-d certainly have swooned
away, had sie witnessed rlr.s transformation;
but her niece b'fr the house without showing
iersetf in ir.asctiliae attire.
Once on r!t- rd: Bettj- started for Dr. Du
cit's on a ran. She bad not taken an umbrella,
because sVn ft-lt it would impede her pi ogress,
said she d.dn't mind a wetting.
" The road was a lonely one, with very few
houses in sight for a food three-quarters of a
inile, aiW the English jacket had never covered
fcueh a nattering little heart. Still Bettv never
dreamod of turning Iwick.
She -rcaclu-il Dr. Ducie's house in half an
hoar: but jnj-t as tin' ran up the steps, she saw
the Doctor's buggy drive down the carriage
way to the ro:d.
Lke a flasai she v.as after it, and managed to
"Dr. DueTe!" she cried, dashing up to him.
The words had hardly left her lips when her
foot struck a;ji atacurb in the drive, throw
ing her f-roi rale and before the Doctor could
Tt-in up bis horse, the hind wheel of the buggy
pawtod" over ik-tty's ankle.
A faint cry escaped her lip. for the pain of
the thing aiutost made her sick.
. The Doctor wa be&wic her in an instant.
"Ai you hurt?'' he cried, with ltejj con
ctrn. going down on his knees in the dust.
9 " My ankle! " Pxitty moaned.
The Doctor lifted )ht into the buggy, and
drove rapidly bjw-k to the house.
"Iran or this young man, Mrs. Fvy." he
said, ad the housekeeper lidpcd him "carry
Betty to a lounge. "Get me some arnica and
tile lauinager.. please."
Betty was' quivering -with pain, but her eyes
opened in the blankest astonishment as the
lav lit. of the study lamp revealed to her the
psiyaicia&'a face. Although she had never
hpdea to Dr. Dicie,slie !:ad Ken him several
titiuh. and lif 3:new perfectly well that this
was no: he.
The g-iitlemaa attending her was quite
young. lie had dark-bluo -yes, which were
looking At h.rwrth kind s.!ifitn4e, and a line-lo-.k.agface.
which was partially cancelled y
a curly golden beard and iiitibtadie.
" Wher; is Dr. DusieV " she said, faintlv.
"Ou.fc ot t.iwn," was his reply. "1hi Dr.
Ctv.-ynn, lib, a.-s atat. 1 aw very sorry 1 inu
over you. Is your nuTtla very nuiiiful '.' "
"Oh, never mind it!" Beity said, hastily.
"I caiue for lr Dncie, but I suj.puse you will
do just as well. Pkaae g to Vallyview as
ijcickly as psildc One of Mrs. La Brce's
fc-rvants has cut her arm, and is in danger of
bleeding to death."
Dr. uwynn ftarted to hi f ct.
"Ywr ankle hni been h.idlv hurt," be said,
rcgreuwlly: "but I do not think it will 1 any
vvurse flnr not rceiing iminedinm atUMition."
"No, n.!" Ii:ty urged. "Goat once! I
can wait tiii you retant."
T1e an he btarted toward the door, she cried
"Tske Die witk yon, pleac. I want to go
home at once I "
"You are Mr. L Bree'h son. I suppose?''
Tho warm edw surged into Betty's face.
" Yes,' sUe answered, looking awav.
"You had Utreriv here," said Dr.Gvwnn.
".Yon are wet t broach, and ih tvmd i .
rough that the ride will be very painful to j
I'd rather po, if yoa pleas".' sho rw.lie.1 d
L- tew! hcriu aio convoyed iat, the buggv.
Wbett thy rn-hed Valley view, Belly said:
"Go in xtid'.ill Mm La Bree that I would
tjfcj- tc iter : taen ntU-n.i f.i the servant."
Hrtiy's ..u!;i came out on t!te piara. t:nd at
th sijHh c: Ik r niece in boy's tlothes, Iio ut
t -r. t m lilt.- ibriek affctouu.iiiti.iu
"flaA:" crwd Betty. "N.,t a word. Aunt
.sd-'i. I woaM not lor worlds have Doctor
('wvum -know. I putou this tuit because I
i. . ugai u v.ouia uo a iirotjct'un. Can't vou i
manage i'lieii ixaiiiuu not t iray mo?"
Ihrtur Ciwryau eauie em arain, aiid holticd
Master La Bree ' toihe lonage in UiesiUm:'
romn.; aJKLaitkThaadafein.laue'biirai, bepro
ct.cdod iv -uine BeUy'jj aukl".
With i:aUmg hands, j..or Miss La Bivo
d- w of her Qivcjfc low-cut i:o , wlilcb was
h- .n:!!ir wt, aad removed her stocking, t xpo
ii'aleot to eaall and white and leticatdv
vi il, tbt Doctor Gwymi looked it in s-
iterewas an ugly red ridee across the ankle.
wh its, jeas bifmijing to swell.
"There art no bones broken," sa the Doc
tor. tirj.ifc'uJjr; "but this abxw&Hi jiumI be
lie batUed Jj jgruiiy with arnica; and bound
" It h&. niauv yon feverish already '' he said
Kb-wiiR at b,r trurfel cticcks. as he wrote out
s prujcriiitiou. "i wJM have thjhet to vou
ri;ht wa3'. V.'iut 4 your name, Master La
iA-e ' '
" H OWtT-Hanyr stammered lloUv.iu
J vr Uwyim elevated his 'evehrows. He
Wo, a. hit -xtkstiytatgnxisg daliriccs. '
"Harry?" he queried, turning to poor Miss
La Bree. " Is that the namo ?"
" Yc-es," she said, starting as though be had
struck her. " Harry La Bree."
" I hope you forgive me, Harry," he said,
holding out his hand to Betty, with a winning
smile. "I didn't, mean to run over you; but
the best thing I can do for you now is to help
you recover; and you may be sure I will do
what I can with all my heart."
When he had left them. Betty turned to Miss
La Bree, and said, savagely:
"Aunt Adele, promise me you will net say a
word about this. Oh, 1 should die of morliti'ca
tion, if he were to find me out.''
" What on earth made you do such a thine,
Betty?" wailed Miss La' lircc. "1 don't see
how on earth we am keep it secret."
"Sit right down," said Hetty, quickly, "and
write to mamma. Tel! her that .lane has hurt
her arm, and that I have a horo foot, and I hat wo
won't b.' able to get the house ready for them
"She'll come anyhow."
"No, she won't," answered Betty. "She
promised me to let me have the moving sill in
my own hands, and sho won't conio till T send
for her. Aunt Adele. you must never breathe
:i wo ill of this to a living soul."
Somo wt eks later, on the lawn at Valley view,
BeUy ini.shi haw been seen in a garden-chair.
She wore Fnrik's velvet smoking-jacket: but
over her kvees she had thrown a linen afgiinn.
Doctor Gwynn wh there, and thouih he had
told ln-r she might walk a little, nothing in the
world could have induced her to try it, since
she would have been obliged to put on panla
l.Mins. No. indeed. She would not slir a step
till Doctor (Jwynu ceased attending her. But
somehow Betty was in no hurry for that time
Yes, it was four weeks since the ii'ght when
she had gone on tho mission which had in
volved her in ,su li emhairassnionis. She had
written again and again to her father and
mother, telling tt.cni of uuforsccu delays, etc.,
etc.. till Mr. and Mrs. La Ur.-e weie quite out
of patience. It was only what Betty had feared,
wlnn she saw in r brother Frank coming up he
walk that a'frcrnoan. ' j
If only he would go into tho house at once. !
But no. lie .-aw he, and came towards her i
with a rollicking salute.
"Hello. Bettv. my dear," he cried giving her
a good hug. ""How d'ye do? What are you
drees.il in my jacket for?"
" Frank," she taid, struggling in his amis
with desperation, "there is a stranger here."
" Oil, excuse me," ho f aid, apologbiically, as
poor Betty stanimcied out ttie mime of Doctor
Forsoiatoly, Miss La Bree caught sight of
him from the library-window.
"Frank, Frank!" she cried, gesticulating
wildly. "Come here this instant."
" It seems I'm "wanted," he Said, smiling, as
he started toward the houfce. But the next
moment he tumtd and cried out :
" How's your foot, Betty? You're the worst
girl I ever saw. You're alwas hurting vour-
seif in some way or other."
Betty did not reply ; for sho had buried her
face in her hands, and burst into tears of mor
tification. " You must know it all now," she said, chok
ingly. " I'm no; a boy at all Doctor Owynn.
1 I dressed up in Frank's ciotlscs. that night.
.1 never did it before, and and 1 didn't think
anyone would know. I thought it would he
safer to go in that way. l'l -please don't think
I'm a dreadful girl, for I'm not."
Here Betty broke down completely, and Doc
tor Gwynn w;is obliged to draw her heat! down
on his should r.
"You foolish little thing," he cried, his eyes
shining with fun, but more with tenderness.
"You thought I did not sut-pcct. Do you sup
pose I did not know, the moment 1 niw them,
that these pretty hands and teel belonged to a
woman? And do you suppose myjie.ul did not
tell me in its own peculiar language? Betty, 1
have known it all along. lVr'j.ip? it would have
been better forme, if I hadn't, fori have hann-d
to love you, my darling, and I cannot be happy
without you. Tell me will you marry me,
Betty looked at him in the Hunt abject aston
ishment, which, for the moment, stilted all
other emotions. But gradually, as the .igtiii
cance of his words dawned on her, a soft Hush
stole into her cheeks, and her eyes reflected the
tender light which shone in his own.
" Will you marry me. Betty ? " he asked again,
and she did not say him nay. IWer.voa's for
lilow tlio 2Iost DcMjernte Jiatlle of the ISeviO-
Turkish Vi'ar was Lost.
Arclribuld Forbes in SI. Zichvlits.1
Before daybreak on the last day of July the
whole force was on the move to the front.
There was a long halt in a hollow, where was
the village of Badishovo, into which Turkish
shells, flying over the ridge in front, came
banging and crashing.
About midday Schahov-koy and his stall,
which we accompanied, lod on to the ridge
between the guns, alnady in position tlieie,
and we surveyed the marvcluui view below
us the little town of Plevna in tae center,
with the 'lurkish earthworks, girdled by can
non smoke, ail around it.
After an artillery duel of three hours, the
Prince ordered his infantry on to the attack.
The gallant fellows passed us, tull of ardor,
with kinds playing and colors flying, and
went down into toe fell valley below. For
three hours tho demon of carnage reigned
supreme in that dire cockpit. 1 he wounded
came limping and groaning back, und threw
theinsolvci heavily down on the reverse slop."
in the village of Jialishovo, in our rear. The
surgeons already hao set up their field hospit
als, and were ready for work.
Never shall 1 lorget the spectacle cf that
assault made by Sehahov.skoy's infantrymen
on the Turkish earth-wot ks iii the valley. The
long ranks on which I looked down trumped
steadily on to the a..-ailt. No skirmishing line
was throw.) out in ad.j.nce. The fighting line
remained the forma 'Ton, till, what with impa
tieuce and what with men falling, it broke
into a ragged pr.ry i.f hiiomuny, and surged
on swiftly, locs-iy, and with no close, cohesion.
The supports ran up n.to the fighting array
independently and eagerly. Presently all
along the bristling line burst forth flaming
volleys of musketry tire. Tho jagged line
sprang forward through the uiaize-iields, grad
ually falling i:-'o a connive shape. The crackle
of the musketry fire rose into a sharp, con
tinuous peal. The dnmor of the burrihs of
the lighting men came back to us on the breeze,
making the blood tingle wi'h the excitement
of battle. The wouudul began to trickle hick
down the gontle hhpe. Wc cu'd .see the dead
and tho more severely wounoed Ij'ing where
they had f illen, on the stubble and amidst the
maize. The living wave of fighting men was
pouring over them, ever on and on. Suddenly
the disconnected men drew closer together.
We could soe the ollbi rs signaling for the con
ceutiation by the waving of their swords.
The distance yet to be traversed was but a
hundred yards. There was :i wild rush, headt d
by the colonel or one of the i-ogiments. Tho
Turks in the work stood their giound, and
fired with terrible eifect into the whirlwind
that was rushing upon them. The colonel's
horse went down, but the colonel was on his
feel in a moment, and, waving his sword, b d
his men forwanl on foot. But only for a few
pace.-. lie staggered and fell. We could heir
the temjicst-gush of wrath half howl, lrdf
yell with which his nn-n, bayonets at the
charge, rushed on to aengo him. They were
over the parapet and in among the Turks like
an overwhelming avalanche Not many follow
ers of the Piophct not ju. ohanco to inn away
from the gleaming Itussiau l-vuncls.
But there were not nn-u c-i oiigh for the en
terprise. Jt was cruel to watch the brave Rus
sian soldier .standing tbeie leaucrless, st'-nily
waiting death for wniit of officers to lead them
forwanl or to inarch tljein back. As tiie sun
set in lurid crimson, theTkussiau defeat b.camo
assured. The attacking troops had been driven
hack or stricken down. All around us the air
was heavy with tiie low moaning of tlie
lion He Dliiht lime bowil l!!s Wife.
i'Voin the Jlnchiai, Union.'
Levi Fartisworlh, of Jonesboro', who left Ma
ch'iHS, November 4, t.SIJi, in the brig Agate, for
the Pacific coast, arrived home .lanuary !', aftei
an alieence of thirty-three years. lie slopped
at the home of his son, Mr. J. E. Farnswoith,
where hLs wife and children assembled in less
than two hours after his arrival. There were
twenty friends at tea -his wife, chihhen, and
some of his grandchildren, and Mrs. II. C. Hall,
a sister of Mrs, Farnsworth and they had a
very pleasant meeting. Tho old gentleman
said, "This is the happiest hour of my life."
Mr. Farnsworth is well known in Vancouver,
Washington Territory, Fdlisburg, and many
other towns on the Pacific coast, and is ro-tue-.'tcd
wherever known. Ho has had many
prominent positions in Vancouver; has been
mayor of the city; also sheriff" several years.
He was elected several times member of tho
Territorial Legislature. Ho is seventy-eight
years of age. The journey homo was about
5,000 miles, yet he was but little fatigued, and
is looking younger and smarter than his friends
When Mr. Fariisworth left homo he parted
with wife and six children. On his return all
were alive to greet him but one daughter, who
died about twenty years.ago.
From the Hartford Conn.) Times, Feb. 21.
A curious and very rare, if not unprecedent
ed, natural phenomenon was observed this
morning by the passengers who came up to
Hartford by the Valley road and by people
coming in from towns to the eastward. From
Hartford to Saybrook, adistanco of nearly 50
miles, they saw large snow-balls all along the
line of the road, all sh.iptd like a lady's muff,
and in general about that size. But "the size
vaiicd from the dimensions of a medium-sized
water-pitcher to the bulk of a big pumpkin,
and they were everywhere and not a rod apart.
There were thousands on thousands of them
all through the Connecticut Bivcr Valley, and
our Windsor Locks correspondent says they
are equally plenty from Hartford up to Massa
chusetts. A curious feature of these- mutl
shipcd snowballs was the circumstance that,
like a mull', they wore all. or nearly all, hollow.
The explanation s. ems to be this: Last night,
from 7 o'clock tili near midnight, there was a
high and very damp south wind. An inch or
more of damp snow fell. This was caught, in
evoiy spot where the icy surface on which it
reeled permitted its movement, by the wind,
and rolled as it was driven on, gaining bulk
with every foot of progress. The sudden shift
ing of the wind, which changed to tho west
and inert nscd. may perhaps explain the hole
extending through the snowy cylinderor it
may not. for this may 1'uvc formed naturally
by the rolling process. The plain sight of the
tracks made by the rolling snow l'ft no doubt
as to the cause vl' the phenomenon. At Mr.
Julius Steele's, on Park street, West Hartford,
the balls were all sizes, up to a foot and a half
in c:rcumference, and, what is more strange,
some of them had rolled up hill.
A Ilishly-fuJtiiri'tl Do:?.
Oirrfs;(Hi(t'iec Ciiicopo Tiiiiw.
Everybody in Midway, Ky., knows old
"Ned," the children's dog. JIo formerly he
longed to the late Mis. Margaret Buford. but as
there, were no children at lier hou-e. he cime
to town and took up his abode at Mr. S. N.
lingers'. He goes to school with the children
eviry morning and remains there all day.
When they go out to play he goes loo. and is
quite expert at catching a ball: imbed, in a
game, he takes tho place of a child. When the
bell rings lie is the first to run into the school
hoiiM and when the classes are called up to
recite, he takes his place in line at tho foot.
After the child next above him has recited, ho
answers the next question by an intelligent
bark and bow of the head. Should a-question
b missed by the child at the foot of the. class
and pas-ed to 1 lie next by the teacher, "Ned "
will answer it in his peculiar wry. Spelling
seems to be his favorite branch of study, his
answers in that being exceedingly quick and
vigorous. Although he turns the children
down, aster his fashion, lie never goes above
th'tii. He will fight for any of the pupils, as
well as teachers, and could not be induced to
stay where there are no children.
A Faro King's Winning,
f 7oi n PhiUulclphia Paper.
It is said that "Dink" Davis, a Philadelphia
.snorting man who is well-known in Pittsburg
('hicigo and the West, recently won $;0,OOf) at
f.tio in New York. Davis went to New York a
month ago an after losing $1,!)J0 in a Barclay
street gambling hou.-.e began to win. He played
wildly at first and won rapidly, but as soon as ho
saw that fortune favored him he played with
sme caution. He played in ne..rly all tho
large gmibMng places in Is ew York. .louLovell,
an intimat' friend of Davis, said to-night:
"Dink's log winnings were made on cas.- cards,
bolting them the other way. This means ti-at
if three (ours were drawn from the box and the
third four lost, he would bet that the last one
would win; if the third card won he would bet
that she fourth would lo3e."
"What is he going to do with the money?"
"Well, there is the funny part of it. One
story is that he sent $ir..(K)at his father in the
country, and fixed it so that lie couldn't get it
again. Then I understand hc.i:i vested $22,000
in Government bonds, and In? says that ho is
going right on to play with the
TJio Pay or the Itcgiilnr Army.
The Beguhir army of the United States is at
present mad v up of s&J lvgiinents of infantry, 10
regiments of cavalry, f legimentsof artillery,
and a corps of engineers, comprising in all
Jo.OOO enlisted men 'J.lL commissioned olli-cei-s
niak.ng, with '.',1'2 cadets and !) jirof rs-ors,
a grand aggregate of 2-i.O(r2 men in active serv
ice, there being also -100 retired officers on the
rolls. The miuual pay of the general of the
atmy is 5B,."i'!, and of the lieutenant-general,
51 1,000; while the major generals receive $7,
.00; bri"adi.-i-generals" ijCi.oOO; colonels, $.'),-
lieut -iiaiit-colontls, SSt.OO.);
..OJ; mounted captain, 2.0i)i), and captains
dismounted, $l,.-00. The chaplains, of whom
there aiv oJ, leceivo ?!,. lOD. The pay of a
private soldier for toe fir-t two years of service
is Si 3 a mouth, being increasid ?1 a month for
each y.-ar of -crvice until for tho fifth year it
is $10 a month. If then he re-enlists, he re
ceives $18 a month, and for each subsequent
rc-cniislmciil $1 more.
The Smallest .ljn in Jlissoiirl.
From the MiMOiiri Hepublicttn.
The smallest man in the Southeast lives in
New Madrid county, lie is forty-four inches
fill and is thirty-four years old. lie says he
s'oppil giowing when lie was eleven years o'd.
lie has aevcial brothei-s and sisters who are of
Saved ly 'liilcliing :. Horse's Tail.
fri.tn thrS'ilt Luke Tribune.
Albert Dougherty, one of the drivers between
l.ieeii Uiver and l'itf Sandy, who was eaugbt in
the storm on Wednesdny evening and lay out m
the iv and snow forty-eight hours, was brought in
to-nighl by private conveyance. Dougherty was
unable to mount the horc after nlinndoning the
stage, and tie' way he succeeded in traveling was
a follows: He tool; hold of the sagacious animal's
tail and h"t it thag him. Vhcmcr his hands be
came s liennnihisl that be ouhl no longer retain
hisgrap on the horde's tail, the animal would stop
and eoitie op to him and p.ttiently wait until
Dougherty would aam entwine hi-, hands in the
tail, when tho bor-.e would resume the journey.
Kitty's lra ,(!.
7b Corinnt '(i.vt7ii'i.
Sweet little darling runs into mv room,
Ited lif'.s parted arid cheeks aglow;
Krc-h anil r.irt: ns the applc-t!ooni,
Jhighter far than tho roses blow.
" Oh, .sister, cimic ami see ! " .she erio,
A.-he-iiiootti--froai her brow the tang'ed hairs,
"While tvoiidi r s .eaics through her violet eyes
" Jly tittle kitty is saying her pniycrs!
"Come ainl look thro' the nursery door!
W e wont frighten her where she lies,
In the stieak of .sunlight on the floor.
Folding; her white paws over her eye9.
"1 wonder," trending with light foot-fall,
And daintily lilting the frock she. wears,
As she I ruts l-efore me a'-ross thu hail,
"J wonder if God hear;' kitty's lirayers?"
.SY. Xiehoius fur March.
The Way of Life
Jit John Vance Chcnci.
warrior frowned and pressed bis temples
" Enough," he cried,
nway with love away 1 "
A boy from piny by fondest kiss beguiled,
"Mother, I'll love thee ever! " sjinko tho child.
A maiden gazed into the night sky wide
"Oh, I will love him when he comes!" she
Thco three moved on along the way of life :
A fair face lured the soldier from his strife,
Upon u tomb was carved tlte Hweet child's name,
The lover to the maiden never cumc.
Dr. Pierce's "Favorite Prescription" per
fectly and permanently cures those diseases
peculiar to females. It is tonic and nervine,
effectually allaying and curing those sickening
sensations that affect tho stomach and heart
through reflex action. Tho back-acho and
"dragging-down " sensations all djsappor under
the strengthening elfecU of this great restor
ative. By druggbcS.
TrjAT m ROUSER,
And How He Came to be the Pet
of 1 he Camp.
By L A. B. Carlis.
Wc never know where lie came from; but
one frost' morningtwheii wo went out to the
diggings there he sat, dejected and forlorn, be
side Doc Furber's rocker.'
" What have I douo?" exclaimed Doc, strik
ing a tragic attitude.
There was a shout of laughter, for certainly
no ono had ever seen an uglier dog. Snub
nozed, crop-eared, one eye white and tho other
yellow, his tleshless skeleton covered with a
coarse yellow coat there he sat, statue-like,
without taking the least notice of us, neither
raising his eyes nor wagging his tail. Indeed,
tho poor brute had no tail to wag. And in ad
dition to his long list of misfortunes, ho
seemed to have been badly wounded in some
recent conflict, for his wouiids were still bleed
ing. " Lend mo your revolver," said Charley
Hines to Fritz Muller.
"No." said Dutcli Fritz, "don't vaste pow
der. 1 lays him out mit (lis rock."
Davy Blake caught up a shovel, and would
soon have ended the clog's career, if Hank
Howley had not interfered, to the surprise of
In all tho three months wo had picked and
shovelled and nicked and panned together in
the Sky High claim, no one had ever discovered
any softness in Hank Howloy.
We had come together, a parly of five, from
different parts of the world, and formed a
partnership to work out a rich mountain claim
in the Sierras.
We had been strangers to each other when
wo consolidated our claims into a partnership,
for purposes of economy in labor and living.
But we soon became acquainted, and we were
speedily in possession of all the early "his
tory" desirable with reg.rd to each other, ex
cept that of Hank Howley; he never talked
about himself, and seemed to resent any curi
osity concerning his personal affairs. He was
rough, reserved, and somewhat surly; but ho
was always ready to take upon himself the
hardest and mo,t unpleasant tasks. His giant,
frame and iron mu.e.es, seemed made for hard
work and endurance.
The laugh went round as Hank went up
to.the ugly brut", patted his head, and exam
ined his wounds in what seemed to be a profes
The dog preserved the u'most indifference
while his easj was dieus-cd, never appoiring
conscious of a human presence. Bus. when
Hank's examina' ion was ended he -licked his
hand in a gentle, melancholy way, and then
foBowvd him to the cabin. 'i"ho cruel wounds
wvr- drcs-id, and tho no:r waif was sumniu-
ou-viy regaled with some bacon r.nd and three
gen-rou-i flapjacks I -ft from the morning meal.
Old Butt.1, the camp do ;, greeted the new
comer with a viiidit. five growl ; but Hank bide
him "get out !" so fiercely that Butto v treat.d
fiom the cabin, and the stranger took his place
by the camp-fire.
Tiie more the miners and Butte abus'il the
newdog, th.'iiuir- Jlunk pctttdhim. He iet
him slgepat his fe t in his bunk, and fed him
from his own tin p! t4. '
Kr.io .-Mm may nirnt tile air was more iucr
jio:ne-maoe uiauaniia p:pj, When entz ex
"Hank, vere's de'dog ?'
tt . '
tie hasn t neon in
fir supper," suggested
" Base, ungratefui pup'" said Charley.
" You've seen : h'' last tif voitr covote," Hank.
1 fold you so," add&I Davy.
"tie was a cur of Iuv degree,'' lcsamcd
Charley. " A high-'toued'doj like Butte would
nt-ver go back on l:is friends in that manner.
Eh, Bttito?" '
"Don't you worry yoi;se! f about that dog,"
growled Hank. "lib ain't vor.r dog. I'll bet
four bits he's all rigTit.'" '
No one'took th' bet H
"Presently Andy" Auc$o!Jered to sell Hank
a fine lox-hot:nd. ' r
" I've no in.' for him." Hank replied. " I've
got the besS dog in the Sierras, and maybe you'll
find it out it vou livelong enough.
All day Sunday no pug-urned dog app?ared.
and all day a running fire of jest and comment
was ke:t iijj ah ut tha vagrant. The neighbor
ing miners, as theydroppid in So smoke and
chat by our fire, never failed to say, "Why,
Hank, where's your dog?" until at hist Hank's
temp r. never of the hist, fairly gave out.
On .Monday morning, when we went back to
th" dam. there was the dog faithfullv
wate'iin r Hank's coat.
All through those bitter nights he had
watchel by it, without food or shelter, not even
lying down upon it for warmth. He was shak
ing :'S with an ague lit; but the look he give
Ihi'ik seemed to say, "1 cannot do much for
you, but I h iv.' kept year coat s ife, my friend."
" Didn't 1 tell you so?" nild Hank" nroudiv.
Public .sentiment instantly turned in the
do's favor, as we gathered around I'm, and
showered upon himsu"'i terms as "Good dog!"
"Nice pup!" "Poor fellow 1"
" Why, lien's a roascr of a dog, after all?" said
Doc, jjving him the biscuit he had brought for
his own iu.icheon.
He was christened " Bouse r" on the spot,
and from that, time he was the prime favorite
of the camp. Even Bntte's selfish heart warmed
toward him, and many a meriy tussle they had
That same day it began to snow. It snowed
and it snowed. We gathered up rockers, shovels,
and pans. Thesnow covered the bowlders; then
it buried the chaparral and mauzanita hushes;
then all the miners' cabins; and still it came
down. It nearly filled the valhy full.
There were eight or ten miners' cabins in the
vicinity, their locality being indicated by one
or two holes in thesnow, and marked by stakes
bearing inscriptions like these:
"Twenty feet to Hilly Brooke's Cabin."
"Cabin of (he Merry Miners, three yards be
low." "Doc Ftirbor, Hank Howley & Co.,
twenty-five feet." "Grand Hotel: Beans and
Bacon at all hours; two rods."
We kept the lire roaring, read the old papers
over and over, went out and shot game now and
t hen. had games of rough-and-tumble and .snow
ball ing, told stories, and smoked our pipes un
der the snow as cheerfully as the greasy Esqui
maux. A hole in tho snow let m tho light to a hole
in our cabin, and at this window Hutto or
Bonser invariably took his station at meal
time; it was not largo enough for both at once.
Our table was under this window, and refuse
bits of bread and bacon were tossed to the lucky
dog in tho window. Butte, being of a lazy
turn, could wait more patiently, so he usually
took his station at the window as soon as the
savory fumes of frying bacon ascended to tho
upper air. Bouser would come to the hole and
hark savagely, but could not frighten Butto
away. At last Bouser resorted to artifice. One
dinner time he rushed into a little clump of
pines harking furiously, as if ho had found some
choice game. Butte could not withstand this,
so he cameoutof the window to join in tho fun,
and artful Bouser quietly slipped into his
place. Day after day Ilouser continued to play
this trick on poor Btilto, aiul always with the
Hut this same little window was a source of
sorrow to Camp Square 'Com fort, as we called
our quarters. Ono day wo all went out hunt
ing, and forgot to shut tho window. When we
returned, wo found that tho coyotes had carried
off all our bacon. This was a serious loss. We
could borrow a little, of course, but it was
necessary for some "ono to go to tho nearest
trading post for a fresh supply. Hank Howloy
volunteered to perforin the mission, and as ho
was the strongest of tho party, and more used
to traveling on snow-shoes, ho seemed best
fitted for' the service. It was about forty
miles to tho trading post, but Hank was suro
ho could make tho trip in three days, or four
at the farthest.
" You better tio up Bouser until I am well
on tho wa-," ho said. Then ho started.
Bouser was greatly dejected. Ho whined
and howled and cried all day, tho tears run
ning down his face and dropping on the Hoor.
At night wo untied him, but his spirits did
not appear to improve. On tho third night
Hank had not returned, but Bousorwas gone.
Wo did not feel anxious on Hank's account, for
ho had suggested that ho might prolong his
stay In easa ho found himself too fatigued to
Start back immediately.
About daylight on tho fourth day Bousor, or- f
emu loan usual. :u iiani: nowicv mi n rr,., ;!, i.:-, 1.-..1 i .i .i .1
? . , it. it41 . -t . . . -.
., ., , ,- 7i . . , -. ' 1 "" "" "ii'n.iii sueiv -soot.-. ;iiiu niucccueti 111 s
inco-is!derablegrun.i...,tfjaS nuns di tor leaving , inflicting a sharp wound in his throat. This I
his co:u at the h a-i o.un. a m;.e distant, wherj was proha'.dv a moital wound, for the animal
Ave all had been wur ; it,; ! 1 e wa. sitting 0:1 a retreat-il, close! v nurstied by Bou ,er, and Hank
rr.. . ., ... -r ,v, ... ...j .dun.i. titt iiiiiw.vui', a i'll'.IUI ' p T n ;ri II iir. r:lfritif ttw iu hmi
what was loft of him, came back to camp. His
condition was oven worse than when he first
carao to us. Ono leg seemed broken, and several
ugly wounds gave evidence of some fierce en
counter. To his neck was fastened a scrap of
paper, on which was traced with blood, in
scarcely legihio characters: "Broke my leg.
Cal. lion. Be quick."
Wc lost no time in going to the rescue. A
party of twenty men, on long snow-shoes and
with good rifles, started out. A light fall of
snow rendered it easy to follow poor Kouser's
traek. An hour's run brought us to' tho object
of our search. Hank was lying under a thick
pine tree, on the snow. At first we thought we
yere too late. His form was cold and almost
rigid. One honcofthelcftlegwas broken. Fortu
nately brandy had not been forgotten, and Doc
Furbcr, who was a real physician, succeeded in'
restoring him, with tho help of many rough
nut witling nanus.
Wo did not worry him with questions; ho
count not talk. But all around the spot were
marks of a ferocious battle, and tracks of a
large California lion. A broken snow-shoe, the
pieces bristling with hair, indicated the nature
of the battle. There was a deep wound on
Hank's hand, and his coat was badly torn.
Watt Morgan picked up his bloody pocket
knife in the snow. I found his revolver, with
all the chambers empty.
Following the track of the ferocious animal,
his dead ludy was found about half a mile
from the spot. It was tho largest specimen of
tho puma that I ever saw, measuring fully
nine feet from f ip to tip. We secured his skin,
and slowly retunud to camp.
Jt was two days before Hank could briefly
recount his adventurer. It appeared that ho
had started out early on the morning of the
third day to return. He had bought a hundred
pounds of bacon, and was lucky enough to
have it brought out fifteen miles by a pack"
train. Then he packed it on his back ten
miles further, until he n ached the snow where
ho left his hand-sled. He had come on faster
than he exp.-ctcd until nearly sunset, when he
heard tho familiar cry of a California lion.
Upon that he started forward as fast as ho
could go. and looking back for the lion, he -j
made a falie step; his snow-shoe hit a stump,
and broke, throwing him down with great vio- j
lence. and bieaking his leg. Fortunatelv the ,
nignt was warm, so he had no fear of freezing.
He iiad a few crackers in his pocket, and, with
t he bacon, he was wvll provided against hunger,
and lie did not feel entirely hopeless.
Then the cry of the California lion sounded
nearer. No doubt he scented the bacon. Hank
drew bis revolver, and crawled to a large tree,
lie partly succeeded in burying the bacon in
the snow. The fearful cry sounded still nearer.
The sun had set, and it was nearly dark. In
tently watching, he at length discerned the
animal, h:s eye. glaring through the branches
of a tree. He decided not to fire until his
only chance required it, lest the wounded
beast should attack him. He shouted, waved
his broken snow-shoe, threw snow-halls; but
the eiMiture still skirmished around him, evi
dently taking in tho situation. He drew
nearer and nearer, crouching as if for a
spring. When lie was within a couple of
rod-. Hank fired his first shot, hoping to hit
him in the eye. But the bullet, seemed to
glance from the skull. The maddened brute
wasabmt to leap upon him when a champion
appeared. Ilouser sprang upon him from bz
h:nd. Then began a fearful conflict. Bousur, who
was small and more activ, ouhl avoid the
onset of h's heavier foe for some time, until he
grew weary. Hank fired sev. ral shots, but
failed to hit a vital spot. Once the battls
surged so near him tint he- beat, the lion off
longer. I hen Boti-er returned in a pitiable
pii.'ht, bus joyful and triumphant.
H.mk thought the time could not have been
far from midnight. Blithe probably fainted
from pain and. exhaustion, lor the next he
knew it was morning, and he was nearly dead
with cold. He managed to stir a little, and
from toe blct ding wound on his hand, where
the fierce brute had scratched him. he obtained
the blood to .rice ihe warning we had received.
He had written it with a match, and lastened
it to Houser's neck. With the sxme match he
had been able to light a little fire, which ho
fail for some time with bark and cones from the
pMie-tree. He ate a cracker, and then probably
Thanks to skillful surgery and good -nursing,
he came out all right, and was able to do his
part when we resumed work in the spring.
And Ilouser, who shared his convalescent
couch, with one of his legs splintered and
bandaged, like his master oh, he was the hero
of the camp! If a dog's head could be turned
with compliments and flattery, Bouser would
have been a spoiled dog. But his nature was
too noble and unselfish to bo moved by any
sentiment ot vanity.
Through the long weeks in which our two
helpless patients lay in their rude bunks we
learned a lesson from their brave and uncom
Hank's hardness and reserve seemed to melt
away in a generous gratitude for the attention
and care we bestowed upon him. And ifc wasa
good thing for us that we had some ennobling
occupation to expand and elevate our hearts.
As lor Ilouser. he got bravely over his in-
ijimes; and lam sure there was not a man in
Bound alley that did not think him as worthy
of being carveil in marble as any of the world's
That exquisite poem of the late Dr. Holland,
"To my Dog Blanco." is a fitting tr.buto to
dear old Iiuiiscr:
" For all of good that 1 have found
Within my.-elf orJunnan kind
Hath royally informed ami crowned
His gentle heart and mind.
" I scan the whole broad earth around
For that one heart which, leal and true,
Bears friciuNhip without end or bound.
And find the prize in you.
"1 trust you as 1 trust the stars;
Nor cruel loss, nor seoll of pride,
Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars
Can move you from my side.''
Jlarpcr,i Young People.
Tho (Jlooinlest Ihiy of tJrant's Life.
Washington correspondence Boston Traveller.
General Grant, in a recent conversation, said:
"The darkest day of my life was the day I
heaid of Lincoln's assassination. I did not
know what it meant. Here was tho rebellion
put down in the field, and starting up again in
the gutters; we had fought it as war, now we
had to fight it as assassination. Lincoln was
killed on the evening of the 14th of April. I
was busy sending out orders to stop recruiting,
the purchase of supplies, and to muster out the
army. Lincoln had promise'd to go to the the
atre, and wanted me to go with him. While I
was with the President a note came from Mrs.
Grant saying that she must leave Washington
that night. Sho wanted to go to Burlington to
see her children. Sonic incident of a trifling
nature had made her resolve to leave that
evening. 1 was glad to have it so, as 1 did not
want to go to the theatre. So I made my ex
cuses to Lincoln, and at the proper hour wo
started for tho train. As we were driving
along Pennsylvania avenue a horseman rode
p:ist us on a gallop, and back again around our
carriage, looking into it. Mrs. Grant said:
'There i3 the man who sat near us at lunch to
day, with some other men, and tried to over
hear our conversation. Ho was so rude that
wo left the dining-room. Here he is now, rid
ing after us.' 1 thought it was only curiosity,
but learned ufteward that tho horseman was
Booth. It seemed that I was to have been at
tacked, and Mrs. Graut's sudden resolve to
leave changed tho plan. A few days after I
received an anonymous letter from a man say
ing that ho had been detailed to kill me, that
ho rode on my train as far as Havre de Grace,
and as my car was locked he failed to get in.
He thanked God that he had failed. I remem
bered that the conductor had locked our car,
but bow true tho letter was I cannot say. I
learned of the assassination as I was passing
through Philadelphia. I turned around, took
a special train and camo on to Washington. It
was tho gloomiest day of my life."
(tone Never to Koturii.
Gakwxek, Me. Mr. Daniel Gray, a promi
nent lumber merchant, writes that his wife had
severe rheumatic pains, so sovoro as to render
her unable to sleep. From the first application
of tho famous Gorman Bemedy, St. Jacobs Oil,
she experienced unspcakablo relief, and in two
hours the pain bad entirely gouo.
A quaint old minister was onco asked what
ho thought of his two sous, who wero both
preachers. "Well," ho replied, "George has a
better show in his shop-window than John, but
John has a larger stock in his warehouse."
- " - --......, . , IVl tl
4 DAY IN LONDON.
The Glories of "Westminster Phases
of English Life.
Special correspondence National Tribune.
Lon'dox, Feb. G. London in December is an
extremely interesting place to a newly-arrived
American. There is a certain interestin walk
ing along Piccadilly and watching fine equip
ages containing beautiful women, fur-clad and
rosy, enjoying thb pleasures of Christmas shop
ping. Then, too, the weather is entertaining;
it is cold enough to justify delightful open fires
in-doors, yet not cold enough to be uncomfort
able; and, if one stays but a few days, the fog
is amusing. December, however, is by no means
all fog, and it is difficult to conceive anything
more exquisite than the floods of sunshine
which poured into Westminster Abbey through
tho whole of one recent December morning.
This was a morning of complete enjoyment for
an American, who, having puzzled and stum
bled out a roundabout route from Piccadilly to
Westminster, finally entered the north tran
sept dcor of the Abbey just as tho closing notes
of the morning musical sen-ice were dying
away. It w;is pleasant to find oneself suddenly
secure from the dampness and mud and rush
ing vehicles of Great George's street, in the
quiet of tho presence of the monumental statue
of that wiso Earl Chatham whose counsels,
if they had prevailed, would have deferred the
Bevolutionary war, and might, perhaps, have
prevented it. If there is a moment in one's
j life when one is pre-eminently glad of every
t scrap of knowledge of English history and En
glish literature, it is during one's" visits to
Westminster. Perhaps the English bov who
grows up within two miles of Westminster, to
whom Westminster is never new, never feels
quite so keen a thrill of joy and pride in his
English inheritance as the American who turns
for the first time from Chatham and Pitt to
Fox and Canning, and, pausing long before the
i line monument to' Lord Holland, thinks of the
, delightful group of men who gathered around
i that nobleman and made his beautiful homo
I famous. Happily it is growing even en.sk'r for
j the boys and girls of America to prepare them-
selve'S for the full enjoyment of Westminster,
by means of the delightful series of biographies
of " Enj-Ii.sk- men of letters," while reprints
make the British poets as common in America
as they are in England. Westminster brings
home to the mind better than all the reading
of history that one em do, the unbroken
growth of tho English nation, for there was a
church here so long ago that the Danes could
de-troy it in their invasion and King Edgar
could begin to rebuild it before the year 035;
and in all the generations that have passed
since King Edgar, much has been added to the
beloved Abbey, but nothing seems to have been
taken away &avo the monument, promptly re
placed, of the boy king Edward VI. In the
chapel of Edward tho Confessor li. the ashes of
that remote Saxon with those of King Edward
1, in whose reign tho English nation first
developed the practice of popular representa
tion in Parliament: and of every generation
in well nigh a thousand years some trace of
the great and the good is here. It is of inter
est to the American to note one verv great
change which has taken place in the erection
of monuments in Westminster. Formerly
kings, nobles, and poets received monuments,
and in some cises little children have been
buried and given monuments here, but of late
it is the benefactors of the race, philanthropists,
scientists, and commoners enrolled for great
achievements who have received this honor.
HOW KEST TUB OKKAT.
Thus, for example, the Macaulays, father and
son : Zacaary Macaulay is revered for his efforts
to abolish slavery in the British colonics, and
his fame is not swallowed up It is merely ex
celled by tLat of his son Thomas Babbington
(Lord Macaulay), the essayist, historian of En
gland, and codifier of the laws of India. In
scientists England is rich, and there is no more
inspiring spot in Westminster Abbey than a
portion of the nave in which lie Charles Dar
win, Sir Charles Lyell, and the Herschels,
commemorated by simple stones in the floor
beneath the mural tablet to the father of sci
ence, Newton ; while it was a moment never to
be forgotten in the life of a simple-minded
American boy, (who holds as a heavy responsi
bility tho half million dollars inherited from a
father too early slain in the struggle for
wealth,) when this lad stood silent in the quiet
sunshine, reading on a stone in the floor of the
burial-place of England's heroes, " Here rests
the mortal remains of George Peabody," with
the beautiful words which tho American
philanthropist had used to express his prayer
that ho might show himself grateful for the
blessings conferred upon him, by doing somo
good thing for the benefit of his fellow-men.
Over this little diamond-shaped stone every
American who enters the beautiful Abbey may
well pause in reverent silence. Mr. Peabody's
bequest of money for furnishing decent: homes
at moderate rents for London workingmen
and their overcrowded families is thought, in
London, to be benefiting not quite the class for
whom it was intended : but, however that may
be, there is no doubt that the American's bo
quest stimulated thought and effort among Lon
don property-holders in the direction of giving
to an enormous mass of hard-working beings
their just due a decent habitation in which
to make a home. The amount of care, that
English working people require is inexplicable
to the careless observer. The American work
man is disgraced if he cannot take care of him
self and keep his children in school. Not so
here! Belief in aid of wages, workhouse life
in offseasons, private charitable bequests, want
of education, and a general feeling of depend
ence on the "gentry," have so undermined the
self-respect of thousands of men and women in
London that thero is now a tremendous eflbrt
required to get these victims of bad social order
on their own feet again. Modern statesman
ship tries to abolish out-door relief; and public
opinion turns, now, to the foundation of tech
nical schools, instead of gifts of coal, as the fit
use of private bequests. A fine beginning is
made; compulsory education, industrial
schools, and postal savings-biiuks are worktug
wonders tor the rising generation; but a demor
alization which has grown in fearful ratio
since before the reign of Elizabeth cannot be
cured in one generation, and one vast side of
London life is terrible to tho American eye.
Especially hideous is the sight of hundreds of
uncared-for young girls roaming unkempt and
void of self-respect through thestatelieststreets
of the beautiful, stately city. The little Eng
lish child is usually attractive, however neg
lected and dirty it may be, for the moist, tem
perate climate makes rosy cheeks and chubby
hands. But neglect tells later; and there is a
tragedy in nevirly every block in Piccadillv,
where tho fine shop windows have a strong at
traction for young eyes that have nothing
beautiful at home.
Tin: oTirr.u side.
But one cannot read the London papers, nor
study the workings of tho charity organiza
tions and the school hoard, without feeling sure
that the hideous degradation of the London
working people must yield to the efforts that
are making; and so ono may bo pardoned if
ono gives one's attention to the brighter side,
and enjoys to the full tho sweet, low voices, tho
substantial, quiet dressing of the men and
women that one meets, and the exquisite soft
ness of coloring that prevails in tho buildings,
the sky, and tho very faces of the people. This
absence of everything glaring and of every
thing shrill is very delightful, aud gives ono a
sense of repose in the busiest London streets.
Tho restful quality of the people themselves
shows itself in the deliherato gait and tho look
of seriousness, very different from the habitual
eager step and expression that ono cannot es
cape from in Broadway. Crowds of tall men
move in overy direction in steady activity, with
long strides, but the strides are deliberate, and
while tho pedestrian reaches his destination
without needless loss of time ho is not breath
less at the entl. All this Avill doubtless come
in time in America, and when it conies we shall
have less dyspepsia, less heart disease, and far
more serene contentment.
After one turns one's thoughts resolutely
away from tho destitution that confronts one,
one receives an astonishing impression of tho
great comfort of those who are comfortable at
all. Bccauso the days are damp, the 'bus driv
ers, porters, draymen, all wear a handkerchief
tied loosely about tho neck, caught in a single
knot in front a precaution which might save
suffering from throat diseases if introduced into
Amoriea. Because tho use of bituminous coal
makes London proverbially smoky, warm water
is a mattor of course in making tho toilet, and
huge basins and pitchers and vast towels ex
plain tho shiny cleanliness that enhances tho
comfortable appearance of an English middlo
class crowd. MoreoYor, the same smokincss aud
need of perennial washing may, perhaps, ex
plain tho durable, substantial quality of the
quantities of linen which coustitute ono of the
necessaries of life in London. Tho national
food, also, respontls.to the conditions of comfort,
for in the uniformly cool, moist year there i3
safety in consuming daily chops aud steaks;
and tea is by no means so hurtful as in our
electrical atmosphere. True, the American ac
customed to our summer luxuriance of peaches
and tomatoes, and our winter breakfasts of hot
cakes, finds the London chop-and-muflin break
fist monotonous; but the national good diges
tion proves the habit a good one. Even the ale
drinking habit, which is the brutalizing influ
ence, par excellence, of the unfortunate English
workiugman's life, arises from the temporary
comfort of the draught.
AX rXPLEASANT KBJirXDER.
The presence of the military is a surprise to
the American new-comer, who is apt to feel a
trifle nervous at running against a tall man
in magnificent uniform shouldering his gun on
the threshold of a wretched sentry-box,vheu-evcr,
in tho fog, the said American may stray
too near St. James' Palaco or Buckingham
Palace: and it is an odd accompaniment to
one's peaceful breakfast in a quiet coffee-room
in Piccadilly when a sound of soldiers march
under the window, followed by the Cold Stream
Band, returning from its twenty-minutes'
morning practice during guard-mount at tho
Queen's residence, St. James' Palace. Then,
too. it is a common tiling to see a load of hay
on its way to the Royal Mews (the Queen':!
stables), one of tho horses mounted by a soldier
in uniform and the whole equipage preceded
and followed by a couple of cavalrymen. To
the English eye this is merely tho decent and
orderly manner of conveying the royal hay.
To the American mind, on the contrary-, this
single sight brings up the whole ugly question
of standing armies for protecting foreign com
merce; of the low wages and high taxes of tho
native workingmen who support the standing
army, and of the loss of industrial power that
must come from the idleness of thousands ot
men in the very prime of life. But the spec
tacle is not without a certain agreeable side,
since it throws into bold relief the wisdom of
that American policy which minimizes thS
standing arm-.-, encourages the militia, and
votes $50,000,000 in pcusions to the families of
soldiers whose courage and skill made frco
workmen of four million slaves, and whoso
prompt return to the industries of peace con
tributed in no small degree to the present un
parallcd prosperity of America. F. K.
3Ic:iglars Irish Brigade at Dinner.
From the A". Y. Times, Fd. 23.J
About fifty members of Meagher's Irish bri
gade of the celebrated Second Corps of tho
Army of the Potomac enjoyed a dinner last
evening at the Westmoreland Hotel, which
marked their sixth anniversary reunion.
Among those present were Dr. John Dwyer,
Dr. C. J. McGuire, Edward Cronin, John Mur
phy, Dr. OWleagher, General Dennis F. Burke,
Colonel Cavan.igh, Major Horgan. tho Rev. Dr.
Moriarty, General Kerwin, (ten. T. W. Sweeny,
and Major D. P. Conyngham. General Burke
opened with an address upon the services of
the brigade in the war of the rebellion. He
spoke of the gallant conduct during the seven
days' retreat and at Fredericksburg. "Who
can read the history of the war," said General
IJiirke, that does not appreciate tho gallant
services of the Irish brigade. Whether we see
them at Chan eel lorsviib' or facing the batteries
at Fredericksburg, or at Spottsylvania, there is
the same heroism. The Irish brigade was the
first to enter the war and the last to leave it.
The Americans arc the most charitable and
hospitable people God over made, and this is
the only country in which the Irish people can
find a home.'' The toast to the memory of
Washington was replied to by Major Horgan;
"The United States" by General Kerwin;
"The Army" by General Sweeny; "The Gal- -hint
Old Sixty-ninth" by Colonel Cavanagh;
"Our Motherland" by the Rev. J. J. Moriarty;
"Our Dead Comrades" by Dr. O'Meagher.
President Lincoln in Jeff's Clinir.
Washington correspondence of the Boston Travcller.J
After Richmond had fallen into tho hands of
the Federal forces the Cabinet-room of the Cap
itol was kept in exactly the same condition a3
when occupied by Jell' Davis. President Lin
coln, it will be remembered, arrived the day
after the surrender, and while walking through
the building, inspecting the headquarters of '
the Confederacy, came to this room. Godfrey
Weitzell, who was in charge, said: "Mr. Presi
dent, this is the chair occupied by President
Davis," and motioned the President to sit
down. It was a trying moment, and those
present expected to see a look of triumph in
his face as he performed the act which signal
ized the complete downfall of the rebellion.
Mr. Lincoln approached wearily, sat down
without a word, and as his great head fell into
his broad hands there was an oppressive silence.
His mind seemed to be wandering back through
the dark years of bloodshed and carnage. Ho
saw visions of death, broken family circles, los3
of treasure, and the little mounds that dot the
South under which sleep the Northern dead.
He did not utter a word, but heaved a deep
sigh, and even to this day the warriors who
stood in his presence at that time tell the story
with tears in their eves.
SONGS OF THE CAMP.
On the Shores of Tennessee.
"ATove my arm-chair, faithful Poinpey,
In the sunshine bright und strong.
For this world is fading, Pompoy
IMassit won't be with you long; ,,
And I fain would hear the south wind
ISring once more the sound to mt
Ot the wavelets softly breaking -
On the shores of Tennessee.
"Mournful though the ripples niurniiika j ,
As they still the story tell, '
How no vessels float the banner
That I've loved so long and well.
I shall listen to their music.
Dreaming that again I see
Star- aud Stripes n sloop and shallop,
Sailing: up the Tennessee.
"And, Pompcy, while old Massu's waiting;
For dentil's last dispatch to come, . . -
If that exiled starry banner
Should come proudly sailing home.
You shall greet it, slave no longer
Voice ami hand shall oth be free
That shout and point to Union colors.
On the waves ot Tennessee."
"Massa's berry kind to Pompcy;
But ole darky's happy here.
Where he's tended corn am! cotton,
For ese many a long-gone year.
Over yonder Missis' sleeping
No one tentU her grave I;ko me; 4
Mrblne she would miss the flowera
She Used to love in Tennessee.
" 'Pears like she was watching Massa
If i'ompey should lie-side him stay,
jMehbie stie'el remember better
How for him she used te pray;
Telling him that way up yonder
White as snow his soul would be,
If he served the Lord of heaven
While he lived in Tennessee."
Silently the tears were rolling
Down the poor otil dusky face,
As be st pped behind his master,
In his long-aecusttmied place.
Then n silence fell around them.
As they gazctl on rock and tree
Pictured in the placid waters
Of the rolling Tennessee.
Master dreaming of the battle
Where he fought by Marion's sido,
When he bid the haughty Taritoit
Stoop his. lordly cre-"t of pride.
Man, remembering bow you sleeper
Once he held upon his knee.
Ere she' loved the gallant soldier,
Balph Vervair of Tenuessee.
Still the south wind fondly lingers
'Mid the veteran's si!vt ry hair;
Stilt the bondman close be.-uie him
Stands behind the old arm-ehair.
With his durk-hacd hand upiit'teel,
Shading eyes he bends to sets
Where the woodland boldly jutting;
Turns aside the Tennessee.
Thus ho watches cloud-born shadows
Glide from tree to mountain crest.
Softly creeping, aye an ever,
To the r'jver s yielding bre-t.
Hut alKve the ftiliage yontler
Something flutters wild asid free
"Mbsmi! Mussu! Hallelujah!
The flag's come bae'k to Tenucsseo 1" - .
"Pompcy, hold me on your shoulder, ." J
Help me stand on foot once moro,
That I may salute the colors
As they ptus my cabin dour.
Here's the paper signed that frees you,k .
Give a freeman's shout with me
'God and Union!' be our watchword
Evermore in Tennessee."
Then tho trembling voice grew fainter,
And the limbs rufuscd to stand:
One prayer to Jesus and the soldier
Glided to that better land.
When the Aug went elown the river
Man and master both were free,
"While the ri g-dove's note was mingled (
With the rippling Tennessee.
For weak lungs, spitting of blood, weak
stomach, night-sweats, and the early stages of
consumption, "Golden Medical Discovery'.' is
specific. By druggists.