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THE WALL8ABOUND EDEN.
Philip Grey and his wife, Rosamond,
emancipated themselves from boarding
house life last fall and took a flat. They
had, for $25 a week, one room on a
third floor where Rosamond took care of
the children through the day and had
breakfast aud lunch brought up to her.
When Philip came home at six o'clock,
as babies were not allowed at table, he
and she took turns going down stairs
to dine with a dozen or more sb-lish fel
low-boarders. The house was on a fash
ionable street aud the menage provided
everything in the market.
Prom this, they went to fire pretty
rooms ail in a row,"' beginning with the
kitchen and ending witli a parlor, wheie
little Phil and Rose Pose could race up
and down in wild delight, and have a
big, lighted closet to themselves, to keep
playthings in. So much sunshine stream
ed into the pailor, when the curtain rolled
up in the morning, that it Icached, like a
golden pathway, through the whole five
room? it the doors were open. And "light
is life," said Rosamond. One flight of
stairs did not seem at all fashionable and,
being only a stone's throw from the park,
she could take the children there any
hour in the day, to see the sheep, the
swans, the lake, the rocks, the whole
realm of delight.
Here they paid $23 a month for rent,
and Rosmond found she could manage
the housekeeping on thirty more, bo,
compared witn boarding that lelt quite a
royal margin, as she and Philip thought
and they began to talk of taking one or
two magazines and going to hear Essinoff.
Of course, their was some work dailyr
to be done: but, as they did not have
very many dishes, there was not very
many to be washed, and little Phil and
baby RcJe found a great deal of enter
tainment in watching mamma cook.
She was not inteirupted by very manny
callers at first. Only three or four of her
most intimate friends found their way to
"the Grey's flat" in the beginning of it.
One ol these was Prue Bently, dear lit
tle Prue, with her sweet, disconted face,
if you can imagin a face sweet and dis
conted at the same time. The door-bell
rang just as Rosamond had finisued
sweeping, and, as their modest flat did
not boast a janitor, she ran down to an
swer it herself, in her neat calico dress,
with Rose Pose trotting behind her.
"Dear me!'' said Piue, as the door
opened. And it must be owned her first
thought was that Rosamond did not look
nearly as stylish as she used, in her cash
mere peignoir, at Miss Peirin's boarding
'You, darling!'' exclaimed Rosamond.
'Come right, up-stairs." And as she
led the way she sang gaily.
"The way into my parloi is up a "\v inding stair.
And I have many curious things to show jou
AY hen \ou aie theie."
'Why, how lovely this is!'' said Prue,
as she entered the little parlor, and look
ed from the glowing grate to the sunny
windows and then up at the picture-hung
wall "And this is the most resting chair
I ever sat in," she added, as she sat down
in Rosamond's own easy-chaii.
'Now, I will take youi hat, and you
must stay the day out," said her hostess.
"I know you are tiled, coming all the
way trom Brooklyn and, as soon as
you are a little rested, you shall have
"Oh! no, indeed! JJnn't take that
trouble," protested Piue remenbenng
that Rosamond had noseivant, and think
ing there must be some ieaiful impossi
bility about sudden lunches.
"6h! it won't be a very elaborate one,"
laughed Rosamond, going toward the
kitchen. "Only some Vienni bread and
fresh butter and a cup of tea."
So, a few minutes later, little Phil,
with a snowy nepkin tucked in his neck
en garcon, biought her on a waiter the
promised lunch, and Prue enjoyed it.
Still a cloud hung over the young face,
and Rosamound, noticing it, asked, at
"How's Hairy, now-a-davs?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," was the re
ply, with a pitiful little quiver in the
voice. "He quarrelled with me Satuiday
night, and I haven't seen him since."
"Quanciied with you!" exclaimed
"Yes," and the voice trembled yet more.
"He says I don't love him as much as I
used to and I'm sure he don't love me as
he used, and so I suppose it will all come
to an end before long."
"Oh, Prue!" said her friend, earnestly,
"Don't talk so. Your own Harry, who
has been so faithful for four long years!
I don't believe he has taken another girl
to a single entertainment or even walked
home with anybody in that time. And
you know that you refused that rich Mr.
Doane for his sake last winter: and you're
peifectly miserable if you don't see him
as regularly as the sun."
"But," said Prue, wearily, "it is so
wearing. There doesn't seem to be the
least bit more prospect of our ever being
married than there was four years ago.
Aunt says we are like two parallel lines
running side by side forever, but never
going to meet and she talks to me, and
the girls tease, and then Harry comes,
looicing careworn, and I suppose I look as
if I had been crying. That's the way it
was Saturday night."
Rosamond knew all about it. It was
the old, old story: Too poor to marry."
Harry couldn't support a wife." Prue's
.aunt dressed her in velvet and sealskin.
She was used to five courses at dinner,
and there was a carriage for her whenever
she wanted it. Sill, she hadn't a penny
of her own to share with her husband if
she married ana it wtmld have mad
matters much smoother if Harry had been
a rich man, instead of a poor bookkeeper
with twelve hundred a year. He ielt it
keenly enough himself, and many a time
puzzled over the problem till his head
ached. Supposing they married and paid
$20 a week for board. How far would
two hundred go towards car fare and
laundry bills for a year, and dresses, hats
and gloves for his dainty darling Prue?
He liked to dress well himself, and liked
to buy a new book now and then, or a
picture, or attend a fine concert. All this
he would have sacrificed without a word
but even then he could not support Prue.
But they loved one another with their
whole hearts so they waited on and on,
hoping that some time the twelve hund
red would swell to three thousand. But
it was four years now and hard times
had come, and things looked, worse in
stead of better. So Prue's sweet face
grew discontented, and Harry's fine eyes
wore a settled gloom.
Rosamond understood it all for she
had been in Prue's confidence from the
beginning. She administered her usual
tonictelling Prue that, if Harry were
dead or off on a five years' whaling voyage,
she would look back at her life now as
the height of happiness, when she could
fee him every day and read his love in
his faithful eyes.
Prue grew more placid after awhile
and, to occupy herself, began to dress a
doll for Rose Pose. Phil built houses
on the floor with his blocks, and the baby
took a long nap. So the true friends had
a quitt, pie?sant time together. When
the hour came for Rosamond to begin to
get dinner, she let Prue go into the kitch
en with her, so they could talk while she
worked. Prue looked around her with
sf^me interest. There were such a few,
few things there. But they were all
bright and clean. Could that Rosamond
who was cleaning potatoes be the same
Rosamond who used to go to parties with
her and who danced every set? Yes. It
was the same bright, merry face and,
somehow, the calico was becoming, after
There was not a great dinner to get.
Rosamond had only to bake a few pota
toes, stew some tomatoes and broil a
steak but the things were ail good and
had an appetizing smell, that made Prue
hungry, especially after the coffee was
ground and set to steep.
I thought housekeeping was a ter
rible hard thing to learn," she said.
But you seem to find it easy enough."
"I am only in the ABC of it!" an
swered Rosamond, laughing. "I really
know very little more than what you have
seen me do. These aie all very simple
dishes ani I learn them one at a time.
0 course I look at my cook-book. You
don't know, Prue, how much happier I
am than I ever was before in my life.
But I do think it would wear my life out
it I had to begin with a great house and a
lot of servants."
Prue wondeied. These few little rooms
and these few things to do with! But in
the light that Rosamond set it, housekeep
ing really seemed to be great fun and full
ot happiness. But, oh! how derisively
her cousins would laugh, if she should go
home and tell them she had seen Rosa
mond Giey washing potatoes in a tin
Meanwhile Pnillip's step was heard on
the stairway, and Rosamond sent the
children to meet him, while she heated
the plates and laid the last things on the
table. The table looked very pretty, set
off with some of her wedding presents,
and dainty Piue found nothing to offend
her eye or palate in the simple dinner.
In fact, she thought it delicious and
Phillip Grey as head of a household
seemed to her three times the man he
used to be in the old dancing days. He
and Rjsamond talked gaily and happily
to each other and laughed as if they
hadn't a care in the world while poor
little Prue, under her momentary cheer
fullness, felt her heart beating, oh! so
When dinner was over and she was
putting on her things to go home, Rosa
"We're going to furnish our spare bed
room next wreek,
Prue dear, and I want
you to come and stay over Christmas with
us. We'll have a real good time, and
Hairy can spend all his evenings here.
I'm goin to buy a dripping-pan before
then and practice first on chicken, so
may be we shall have turkey Christmas.
1 haven't learned to roast yet, and that's
why at present we starve on porter house
steaks and oyster stews."
Prue laughed, swept a little courtesy
and said she would accept the invitation
"What made you tell her about the
dripping-pan, Rosy?" asked Philip
when the guest had gone.
"Oh, I do so enjoy her amazement^'
said Rosamond, with a laugh, as they
turned back into their cozy Tittle parlor,
where, after getting the children to sleep
they sat down for a delightful evening
Prue did not see her friends again till
Christmas week but she heard of them
new and then. Her Cousin Julia, coming
home one afternoon from an Essipoff
matinee, said she had got quite a new
idea bout the trimming of her winter hat
from seeing the one worn by Mrs. Phil
lip Grey, directly in front of her.
Prue had one note from Rosa nond, re
minding her of her promised visit, and
aading a few words of cheer, which the
poor girl sorely needed in the contest in
which she was" engaged, with love on one
side and the world, her old familiar world
of fashion, on the other hand. Her aunt
had been senously taking her in hand, in
a series of "plain talks," in which she de
monstrated that, as Prue could not do a
single useful thing in the world, and as
her various costumes in a year cost quite
as much as the whole of Harry's salary, it
was the height of foolishness to talk of him
any longer, and she had best end the mat
ter while Mr. Doane was still in a propi
tious state of mind. She did not seem to
consider that Prue's heart might beat
happier under a fifteen-dollar cloak than
under one that cost a hundred.
"Yet I am as strong as Rosamond
Grey," said Prue, in a flash of resistance.
"And I um. no fool. I suppose I could
learn to do a few useful things."
But, althoug this did occur to her, she
did not tell Harry so for, although she
could have died for him, or have been
perfectly happy with him in a desert or
desolate islands, she felt that it required
in her case far greater heroism to take up
a life of homely cares, and be busy with
brooms and kettles, instead of her piano
and embroidery. As for Harry, he had
never thought of asking her to do such a
thing. He never dreamed of any thino1
but waiting till he had resorces enough
to supply his pretty Prue, at least parti
ally, with her accustomed luxuries. So
they met and parted time after time, in
a kind of dull patience, and looked at
each other with sad, weary eyes of love,
which saw not yet how sweet is the din
ner of herbs."
Rosamond was busy with her holiday
preparations the day before Christmas,
when Prue came in, all in a flutter, her
"I've fairly run away," she exclaimed,
laughing. "Aunt had accepted an invi
tation for us all to spend Christmas at
old Mrs. Doane's house and she was fu
rious when I insisted on keeping my pre
vious engagement. I'm going to stay
until she gets over it. I told Julia to
send me word,"
"I have looked for you all the morning,"
said Rosamond, with a kiss of welcome.
"Here's your" room all ready for you and
you can sit in the parlor and read the
magazines, or you can come out into the
kitchen with me and the children. I
must go right back there, because there
are cookies in the oven."
"I'll go with you," said Prue and she
went. Seating herself in one of the kitch
en chairs, she watched all the perform
ances with deep interest, and even went
so far as to stone raisins and pare apples
to help Rosamond.
"You've done a good deal since I was
here," she observed. How pretty that
broad window looks, with all those plants.
And do you mean to say you hang pic
tures like those on your kitchen walls?"
"Yes, indeed," said Rosamond. "This
is one of my sitting-rooms and you don't
know how pleasent it is in here when the
work is done. And it is so warm and
comfortable, and a nice place to have the
children's playthings around."
"And you are perfectly happy, perfect
ly satisfied, and glad you married Phil-
lip?" asked Prue, wistfully.
"Perfectly happy, perfectly satisfied,
and glad every hour of my life that I
married Phillip," Rosamond replied,
picking up her baby with an air of tri
umph and leading the way to the parlor.
They had a merry, busy afternoon to
gether, weaving wreaths and crosses of
evergreen for the windows and pictures
while little Phil and Rosy docorated
every figure in the carpet with the clip
pings. It grew dark early and as soon
as possible after that the children were
coaxed to hang up their stockings and
go to bed. Then ts soon as they were
asleep out from drawers and closets came
the delightful packages that had been in
hiding, and everybody played Santa
Clau* and helped fill the" stockings.
"I do hope there won't be a fire to
burn the house down before morning, be
fore the children see their presents," said
Rosamond, as she carefully planted the
feet of a lovely doll in among the bon
bons in the baby's stocking.
It took all the rest of the evening to get
the wreaths and crosses up, and then tired
and happy, the little house-wife went to
The next morcing Prue was awakened
by the sound of a Christmas carol, wnich
Philip Grey sung as he built the fire and
not long after she heard little Phil tum
bling cut *f bed and his shouts of delight
over his stocking. The horn began to
toot, the whistle began to blow, the toy
cat squealed, the woolly dog bow-wowed,
and tne children held a regular revel.
"What good times they do have!'
thought Prue, %as she hurried out to join
in the fun.
That clear, cold Christmas Day was
different from any Prue Jiai ever known
before. To tell the truth, a good part of
it was passed in the kitchen, for' Rosa
mond had announced her intention to
have a regular genuine Ceristmas dinner,
and Prue borrowed an apron and wanted to
help. She chopped bread-crumbs, washed
celery, grated cheese, and did anything
she was told and Rosamond said it seemed
quite like old times, when they were girls
and always together. Phil raced up and
down the looms on his hobby horse, and
Rosy, trotted after him on a broom, enter
taining themselves so well that their
elders paid them but little attention.
There was one tremendous moment,
though when, in the very midst of stuf
fing the turkey, Rosamond turned her
head and saw her baby on the top of the
stationary tubs, holding in her hand the
reservoir of oil from the student lamp and
alternately shaking it ovor the water
pitcher and the tea-pot.
"Don't you wish you could keep a!
nurse?" asked Prue, as Rosamond flush
ed aud hurried, stopped to scald the tea
No, I don't," said her friend, un
dauntedly. I feel through and through
my heart, that, when I get to be an old
woman and look back on my life, the
very sweetest part of it will be the time
I had my little children around me and
took care of them. And I think Rosy is
fully equal to 'Helen's Babies, don't
The turkey browned famously, and all
the various articles stewing and boiling
on the stove did their best, when, at a
quarter of three, Prue, who had no more
to do, thought that she would take the
children tc the parlor and tell them a
story. Suddenly the door bell rang.
That must be the man with nuts,"
said Rosamond '-and I don't possibly
see how I can leaife the gravy. I wish
Philip was here."
I'll go to the door," proposed Prue.
If you really don't mind," began Res
amond but Prue was already out in the
hall. She ran light-heartedly down
the stairs, opened Ihe door, and met
Phillip had fallen in with him, down
town, invited him to dinner, and then,
having to stop on the way home, had
sent him on alone. Prue gave him a swift
glance, saw that he looked care-worn,
but the same dear old love was shining
in his eyes, they ascended the stair3 and
entered the little parlor now a peitect
bower with its Christmas greens.
He sat down before the glowing fire
and looked about the room.
"Phillip's a lucky fellow," he said, with
Prues heart beat rapidly, for new,
brave thoughts were finding their way in
to it but she said nothing, only stroked
Harry's hair with a lingering touch.
Rosamoud came in now with a welcome
and, a few minutes later, Phillip Gray
arrived, blithe and cheerful, and, with a
child on each shoulder, was quite ready
to lead the to dinner.
Such a merry Christmas dinner as it
was Harry grew gay in spite of him
self, and Prue was as sweet as a little car
nation pink. Philip and Rosamond did
the honors finely, and the fact that they
were a little pinched for dishes made
them all the merrier. Prue got the cup
that was cracked but the tea was from
Hinodi's, and delicious. The turkey was
splendid, and all the side-dishes were
nice as any lady in the land could have.
When it was time for desert, little Phil
could not keep still in his chair, and had
to be reproached for telling the guests
beforehand that they were going to have
plum pudding. Rosamond was a little
slow about bringing it but when she
did come, holding it on a platter, it made
a seesation for she had finished it off in
old English style, so that it seemed to be
on fire with blue flames.
Dinner over, they adjourned to the par
lor, and tossed nutshells into the fire to
make pictures there for the children. The
happy day waned away, and at last it was
night and bedtime for Phi i and Rosy.
yiiwi '"^jf *j"ynm"|*jg
Their mother sang them to sleep with
carols, and came back into the parlor in
time to hear Harry say:
"I suppose housekeeping is twice as ex
pensive as boarding. Isn'tit, Grey?"
"Well," said Philip Grey, serenely, "as
you are a novice, I don't mind throwing
a little light on the subject. Rose, darling
where's our account-book?"
Rosamond found it, and her husband
ran over the items aloud. Rent for one
month, so much marketing, so much
coal, so much washing, sundries, etc., so
much and then footed it up.
"Something like $65 in all this month,
perhaps," he said. "When we boarded
we paid one hundred a mouth. So you
see, my boy!"'
Harry was surprised and silent in a
sort of breathlessness. It seemed as if in
the high walls around Eden he had sud
denly discovered a gateway he had never
dreamed of, where even he might pass.
But, no it could not be. He felt that in
the next instant, Prue, his dainty little
love, never could undertake the care. It
was too much to ask of a girl like her.
"Let me read you a poem of Brown-
ing's," said Rosamond, taking up a book
and turning the leaves. "It's about two
young people who loved each other, but
were too poor to marry so they waited
on and on, and finally gave it up. The
girl married a rich" old Lord. Here's
what she says at the end:
Each life's unfulfilled, you see
It hangs still, patchy and scrappy
We have not sighed deep, laughed lree,
Starved.feasted, despairedbeen happy.
"And norody called you a dunce,B
And people suppose me clever
This cotild but have happened once
And we missed it, lost it forever.'
Prue's little hand stole into Harry's as
Rosamond read, and when she gfanced
up from her book she saw them gazing
into each other's eyes with a look that
was a pledge.
"We'll try it," said Prue, turning
round toward her friends with a bright
And they will. May God bless them
and all brave young hearts who are wil
ling to climb the hills, side by side, for
love's sake.Nm York Paper.
How Tom Collotre ana Mm Two Com-
pauloiiH JEnJoyea a Hot Until.
Virginia (Ney.j Enterprise.
Tom Collette is a miner, teamster, coa
burner, or anything else that is necessary
when he finds that his pocket is growing
emty and his larder lean. Tom, with
two friends, Joe and Jake, were making
a painful journy from Pine grove, in
Esmerelda county, to eastern Nevada.
They camped one afternoon by some hot
springs near Walker lake, and discover
ing a hole half full of cold water near
one of the hottest springs, turned the hot
water as it flowed out of the hot spings
into the hole, until the hot and cold
water olending made exactly the right
temperature for a bath. Then they
plunged in and enjoyed the delicious
water as only those can who have traveled
over dusty roads for several days. When
they had eaten thier supper and lighted
their pipes, the theme of conversation for
a long time while they puffed, was their
and the wonderful refreshment which
it had brought them.
They spread their blankets on a gj assy
spot behind some willows, a few yards
away from the springs, and fell asleep.
Tom was up with the dawn. The mem
ory of the bath was fresh in his mind
not slow he bounded from his blankets
and, with a leap and a jump, plunged in
to the deep clear water and went to his
neck. Then came a howl of anguish,
and he sprang upon the bank with all
the agility of a wild cat. In the mean
time his fair skin had changed to the
color of pickled lobster. The hot water
had been running all night all the cold
water had been neutralized hours before
the dawn, and now the water in the hole
was almost of the sime temperature as
the water in the boiling springs from
which it flowed. Tom was in a tenible
state. He says: I thought I was
pickled." But he did not hesitate as to
the course he should pursue.
With infinite care he drew on his pants
and boots. Forcing back tears of anguish
he managed to walk back to the camp.
Though it wrung his heart, he put on his
old time frank smile as he neard the ren
dezvous, tor Jake was just then sitting
up in his blankets, gaping and stretching.
Seeing Tom approach, Jake asked where
he had been. Tom replied that the re
collection of the magnificent bath of the
prevous evening was so vivid in his mem
ory that he could not think of breaking
camp without repeating it, and added:
"It's just lovely. Jake." Jake did not
wait to hear any more, but rushed away
toward the spring. As switly as Tom
could, he followed, and from behind the
willows kept covert watch.
He saw Jake throw offhis few clothes,
spring into the water, heard a yell of an
guish, and then saw him with wonderful
haste emerge and spring upon the bank,
and vainly try, by swift applications of
his hands to different points of his body,
to arrest the intolerable pain, swearing
and crying all the time.
At last Jake managed to get into his
clothes and started for camp. Meeting
Tom, he began with fierce invectives to
upbraid him for his deception. But Tom
cut him short in an instant. Hush up,"
said he. "would you bawl like a calf and
give us away when I want to cook that
other son-of-a gun up in camp?"
Soothed by this Jake grew quiet, and
both leisurely proceeded to camp. By
this time Joe had commenced to rouse up,
and seeing the others approach, asked
them where they had been. Tom ans
wered cheerfully (he was holding his
pantaloons away from his body in the
rear at the time) "Do you think we
could break camp without one more mag
nificent swim? Not much."
At this JoJ, getting up, cried: "Not
much, you bet!" and dashed away to
ward the spring.
As he disappeared behind the willows
Tom sprang for his pistol and said to
Jake: "Get your gun quick it will
mean business when Joe comes back."
In a few seconds Joe did come. He
was crying and cursing furiously, and
never stopped till he caught up his pis
"Drop it," said Tom. "I have a dead
bead on you, and so has Jake. Besides
I took all the cups off your gun."
The difficulty was finally adjusted but
the trio took their breakfast standing
that morning, and to spare the mules,
they did not ride much for the succeed
ng three days.
Waiting forthe Train,
If a man was desirous of lengthening
out his days, or of making his life seem
long to him, we would suggest that he
pass all his leisure time waiting for the
One might live a hundred
forty by this way of doing.
When does time ever pass so slowly as
when we are waiting for a train? Were
ever hands of clock so long in getting
round as the hands of a clock in a railway
You are generally, if vou are a woman,
a little too early for the train. Men man
age it better, and contrive to be a little
late. They had sooner run for it then
wait. And so had we, if only our petti
coats would allow us. But in the present
fashion of clothing, it is as impossible for
a woman to do anything at running as it
is for a setting hen to operate a sewing
You are alwavs apprehensive of bein
too late and, breathless and excited, you
glance at the clock, and find to your sur
ptise that you have half an hour to wait.
You buy your ticket, feeling, after the
piece ot pasteboard is in your possession,
that you are half way therewherever
Edison, the Inventor.
The marvelous discoveries of Prof.
Thomas A. Edison, of Menlo Park, N. J.,
have excited universal interest. His
stock indicator, automatic and duplex in
struments, telephone, electro-motograph,
airograph, electric pen, and, above all,
his speaking machine, mark him as the
Napoleon of inyentors. As any particu
lars concerning the history of this extra
ordinary young inventor must prove of
more than usual interest, the writer details
a conversation with Mr. George S. Stew
art, an old telegraph operator, now em
ployed in the office of the Associated
"I first knew Tom Edison," said Mr.
Stewart,"in 1866. At that time I was em
ployed by Col. Coleman, the Superintend
ent of the Western Union office in
Memphis. He was a gawky boy, about
eighteen or nineteen, and was reading
everything about electricty that he could
pick up. He had a lean and hungry
look, and always seemed to be under the
influence of some secret excitement.
had got in his head the idea of sending
duplex despatches, and all his spare time
was devoted to experiments in the nice.
Coleman stood it for some time, but at
last began to growl. He allowed that Tom
was crazy, and said that 'any Tool ought
to know that a wire can't be worked both
ways at the same time.' He declared
that he wouldn't have Tom puttering
around the office with such silliness, and
finally discharged him in disgust. The
boy went back home to some town in
Michigan, and I lost track of him.
there" may be. You slip the ticket into
your glove, to guard agaiast accidents,
and take an account of stock, as repre
sented by vour bundles and packages.
No woman can go anywhere comfortably
an&respectably, without three bundles
You find them all right, and pile them
up on a corner of the settee, and glance
apprehensive at the woman on the other
corner, and wonder if she is thoroughly
honest, ana if it will be safe to leave your
belongings there while you go to the look
ing-glass and see if your hat is on
This satisfactorily determined, and you
look at the clock to find only five min
utes of the time you must wait gone.
You begin to feel restless. You count
the number ot panels in the door of the
room, and &tudy the grain of the ceilings,
and wonder when the stove was blacked
last and|hen you take to reading the
framed advertisements hung upon the
walls, of this and that Life Insurance
Company and this and that Organ Com
pany and you look at the engravings of
the Oigan Company's buildings with in
terest, and contemplate the gaily-painted
posters of Dr. Somebody's Stomach Bitters
with attentive eyes.
Anything to take up the time.
You go to the windows and watch the
peanut-man across tho street. Strange
how much interest he has for you. You
never noticed a peanut-man before. And
the organ-grinder ploddinng along over
the way, how you wish he would stop
and grind out Captain Jinks, or anv other
classical music, his machine is capable of
Where is that train? Surely it must be.
late! Some accident must have happened
to it, and you turn back to ask the the
telegraph operator about it, and see by
the clock that you have waited only ten
minutes. And it has seemed an hour!
Pretty soon some other women come
in, and you hail lhem as a particular
god-send. You look at there ruffles fringes,
and observe the fit of their pull-backs,
and mentally criticise their striped stock
ings, and see that some buttons are oft
their boots, and wonder if the tall one's
hair is false, and make up your mind
that the short one crimps her front locks
on a pipe-stem, or a slate pencil.
Fat old party ot the male gender strolls
in, and after looking awhile at the time
table, asks the ticket-seller what time the
twelcve o'clock train goes? Lean young
party of the female gender asks the same
thing. Ditto half a-dozen other people,
some of whom may want to know, and
some who ask just for the notion of it.
Twenty minutes gone. Ten more to
wait. You cannot refain from ask
ing the ticket-seller if he is sure the train
will be in at twelve promptly, and assures
you it willand adds the information,
"Trains on this road run as advertised."
So you feel sure that, in spite of col
lisions and smash-ups, that train will be
there at the time specified. It is so lovely
to have confidence in anything.
Then you sit down, and look at the
toes of your boots, and think they would
be improved by a little French dressing
and you feel of your ticket to make sure
it is there, and wonder why they do not
make kid gloves so they would not rip,
and then you look at the clock, and, oh
dear! dear! five minutes more to wait.
You open your reticule, and eat a tew
of the peanuts you have bought for the
children, and throw the shells on the floor
with a vague sort of satisfactionas if
you were punishing the train, or the rail
road company, or sombody, for making
you wait so longand at last the whistle
is heard in the distance.
And you go out on the platform, cling
ing to your bundles, and firm in the de
termination that you will never get to
the station againnever! until it is just
time for the train. But whoever man
ages to do that?
'Some time afterward I was transferred
to the Boston office. At that time wire
*o.l.as it was then called, was consid
ered the crack wire of the country The
fastest men were working it. For some
cause the operator in Boston resigned It
was difficult to find a man to take 'his
place A half dozen fellows tried it but
found it too much for them. One after
another they dropped it like a hot potato
and sloped wiser than when they came,
lhere was a man in the office named
Adams. He thought the world of Tom
Edison, and recommended him for the
place vouching for him as a first-class
operator Milliken, the manager,
telegraphed to the little town in Michi
gan, asking Tom if he would come on
and accept the position. Tom answersd
yes, and without further words started for
Boston, via the Michigan Central and
Grand Trunk Railroads. In running
through Canada he got snowed under
and was kept on the track in one spot for
twenty-four hours, cold and hungry ith
out bed. As usual,he owned but one buit
of clothes, and that was on his back. Un
fortunately, it was a summer suit. He
might have frozen to death had he not ot
an old rough roundabout overcoat from a
Canuck railroad laborer. But he finallv
got throngh all right.
I -vas in the Boston office when he
arrived, and I must say," continued Mr.
Stewart, bringing his fist down upon the
tabic, "he was the, worst-looksng speci
men of humanity I .ever saw. The mod
ern telegraph tramp isn't marker. He
wore a pair of jean breeches six inches
too short for him, a pair of low shoes, the
Canuck jacket, and a broad-brimmed
butternut hat, a relic of his life in Mem
phis. The wide rim was badly|torn, and
hung so that you could see his ear through
the opening. There was the slightest
trace of dirt on his upper lip, that he
called a mustache. His hair hadn't been
combed for a week, and he had the black
est white shirt that was ever seen on the
back of human being. Nervously pinch
ing his upper lipa habit that he had
he inquired for the manager, and was
sent to Milliken.
'Are you the boss?' Tom asked. Mil
liken smiled and said he was manager.
Tom then introduced himself and asked
when they wanted him to go to work.
Milliken stared at him as though he
couldn't believe his ears, and said 'At
half-past five.' It was then well along in
the afternoon. Tom began to look around
the office for a clock, and Milliken said:
'Young man, you have to work a pretty
hea^ wire.' Tom gave what he called
his mustache an extra twist, and with all
the assurance in the world blurted out:
'AH right, boss. I'll be here at half past
five.' He sloped so quick that it made
Milliken's head swim.
The operators burst into a peal ot
laughter. They have seen and heard every
thing, and their remarks were anything
but complimentary to Tom. Ob," said
one of them, 'he won't last as long as
that Jerseyman that tackled the wire the
other day. 'Why, that fellow can't read
by paper, let alone by sound,' shouted an
other. A third declared that Tom was
'the worst he ever saw," and when a
fourth one wondered weather the walk
ing between Michigan and Bobton WJS
very good there was a general roar.
"Well," continued Stewart, "half-past
five came, and so did Tom. Everybody
was on the qui vine. Milliken wat, just
taking from the vault the supply of
blanks for the night operators. As Tom
came up he pointed to a pile of them,
saying: 'Take what blanks you want and
I'll show you your table.' Tom innocent
ly picked up the whole bundle, and fol
lowed Milliken to his table. The oper
ators began to grin and snicker. They
all thought that he would get bounced
after tryiDg to catch one message. It
was the No. 1 wire to New York. Jerry
Borst, then considered one of the fastest
senders in the country, worked the New
York end. As Tom seated himself he
heard the call 'B,'and turning to Milliken
asked if that was the call for Boston.
Yes, replied the manager, watching
Tom's movements with intense curiosity.
Thereupon Tom opened hi3 key and tick
ed the answer: 'I, I!' Jerry began to
'whoop 'em up' in his best style, and ev
ery eye was turned on Tom. He dis
played no anxiety, but kept right along
at his work as though he had been taking
Jerry all his life. For four mortal hours
did Tom take it down in a handwriting
as neat and plain as reprint. For
the first time in his life Jerry had rushed
it until he was tired without a break from
the receiver. He was astounded. When
he had finished, 1he following messages
passed between them.
"Who the deuce are you, anyhow?
"I'm the new man. My name is Tom
"Well, you're the man I've been look
ing for the last ten years, and you're the
only man I ever found that could take
me without a break. Shake.
"And they shook. The astonishment
of the boys in the office was unbeunded.
There was no more jibing nor snickering.
Everybody was Tom's friend at once.
The next day Milliken picked up a sheet
of Tom's manuscript, and reflectively
stroked his beard, 'I never saw such
pretty copy,'he said. 'He's as ^ood an
operator as I ever met.'"
Victoria and Napoleon at Windsor.
I advanced and imbraced the Emperor
who received two salutes on either cheek
from me, having first kissed my band. I
next embraced the very gentle, graceful,
and evidently veiy nervous Empress.
We presented the princes (the, Duke of
Cambridge and the Prince of Leiningen.
the Queen's brother and our children'
(Vicky, with very alarmed eyes, making
very low curtsies). The Emperor em
braced Bertie, and then we went up stairs,
Albert leading the Empress, who in the
most engaging manner refused to go first,
but at length, with graceful reluctance,
did so, the Emperor leading me, express
ing his great gratification at being here
and seeing me, and admiring Windsor
The life of the Prince Consort.
The reason given for a girl's not being
able to throw anything with the accuracy
of a boy is that her collar bone is tome
kiches longer and some degrees lower
down, and, being long and crooked, inter
feres with the free action of the shoulders
A fire in the officer's quarters at Fort
Adams has^caused a Loss of $25,C0).