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Daily globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, September 22, 1878, Image 2

Image and text provided by Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83025287/1878-09-22/ed-1/seq-2/

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Johnnie's Oration.
"Got your speech ready for Friday,
Johnnie?'' adted a schoolDoy.
"No/' said John.
"Well, I have, you'd better hurry up."
"Pshaw' what's the use?" asked John.
"You see, a speeeh for Friday isn't just
like lessons that a fellow ought to learn
Ever so many things may happen so that
I sha'n't have to speak at all. Visitors
may come in, or some other boy may
recite something real long, so that there
won't be time tor me. I sha'n't bother.
Maybe I'd go out in the country that
day, and then it' I learned anything it
would be of no use. I'll wait till the
time cnmis."
John waited, but he did not go to the
country. The other boys chose short
declamations, and Friday morning was
so cloudy that thcie wis no prospect of
company. At noon John was in a..+ateoJ
desperation. He i W here and there
about the house in search of something
that would answer his purpose. Uncle
Jack gave him a book of old dialogues
and orations, but btfore he could learn
more than a line or two it was school
time.
The othe.'s spoke, but John listened
without hearing much, and when Ins own
name was called, lie walked across the
floor with a veiy bewildering feeling,
staring at the ceibng, leaning against a
post in. the center of the 100m. Mr
Grey would not accept excuses John
knew ihat perfectly. He put hid hands
in his pof-kets and looked at the boys,
pulled them out again and looked at the
clock then ho began confu-edly:
My name is Norval. On the Gram
pian Hillsmy name Norval. On the
Grampian Hills my father freds hishis
name is Norval
''Kilns in the family that name does,"
slyly whimpered a boy near him.
The otitis began to la tsh, lor they all
knew how grandly John had talked of
not taking any trouble. Mr. Grey be
gan to look curiously over his glasses,
and John knew that something must be
done so he suddenly said:
"I don't know much about Norval, "but
I know something about industry so I'll
talk about that."
"Industry is a good thing to have it's
better than luck .it may not turn out as
he expects, and then he eets into troub
le. It a boy is real industrious, and gets
ready for things, why he's ready If the
man that invented telegraphing bad wait
ed for luck to turn up I don't suppose
there'd have been any messages sent yet.
Boys, be industiious get ready for things
beforehand, and don't wait till the time
comes."
John bowed and sat down, and the
boys applauded heartily. Mr. Grey, who
did understand the matter so well,
hesitated a moment, but finally said:
''This address seems to be original, and
I suppose we must judge it leniently on
that account, though it is very imperfect
ly prepared. There are some valuable
truths in it, however, which the speaker
himself may profit uy. Whatever is
worth doing at alt is worth doing well
Or, rather," he arlded,
more seriously,
"There is a better motto still that I should
like to give ye: Whatsoever ye do, do it
heartily as unto the Led, and not unto
men.' That will prevent all shams and
careless work."
The boys thought John had escaped
wonderfully well: but he was certain of
one thingthat if he had not learned
anything to recite, he had learned some
thing else that day, Kate W. Hamilton,
in S. S. Visitor.
Law and Jsstice.
Solomon would have found it difficult
to improve upon a recent judgment of a
French coait. A year ago, an apothe
caiy ot Port d' Ain, in the Department
of Ain, mairied a second time. It is the
custom, in that part of the country, to
treat all who take a second wife to a
chari\ari, althouga any person may avoid
the annoyance by paying a special ran
som. Our apothecary would not parM
and the sport was be^un. The serenad
ing party kept at their self imposed task
from sundown until midnight. The next
night they benn again,aud, although the
victim ot their unwkhed-ro music offer
ed to piy naif the sum they demanded,
persisted, for four days, or rather nights,
in disturbing his peace. At last, on the
fourth night, the apothecary, exasperated
beyond endurance, dispersed his tormen
mentor-i by sprinkling them with a mild
salution of sulphuric arid. One or two
of the volunteer musicians received, in
juries to their clothing, and one -was*
somewhat burned in the face. Accord
ingly, the apothecary was arrested and
brought b, tore a Judge, who sentenced
him to pay certain small sums to each of
the complainants. From this judgment
he appealed, and it is the second verdict
on appeal which is to be commended.
The tribunal of Bourg held that the per
sons who were injured by the vitriol had
a right to compensation from the assail
ant, ?nd therefore confirmed the judg
ment ot the court below, but condemed
each one of those in whose favor a ver
dict had been given to pay to the phar
macist as much as he was to pay for the
assault.Boston Advertiser.
Old Hornbcnder came in from Sagus
the other day and took a seat in a Wash
ington street barber shop to "wait his
turn." A couple of smart" youths be
gan telling stories about terrible trage
dies with barbers as the heroes, evidently
to guy the old man. After a time old
Hombender brace I himself, and said he:
Did you ever hear of my rumpus with
a crazy barber down to Lynn?" The
boys allowed they hadn't, and all gath
ered about the old man, who continued:
Well, I wa3 down to Lynn once, about
a year ago, and went into a barber shop
to get my baird scraped off. An' when
I took my seat in the chair I saw the
barber didn't look jest right. His eyes
had a kinder glassy staro in 'em, and "he
flourished his razor around while he was
a stroppin' of it in a way that made me
uncomfortable, I tell you. Then he grab
bed mo by the nose with one hand" and
gave me such a look that I couldn't have
lifted my hand to save my life. 1 didn't
have time, nuther, for afore I could wink
he out my throat from ear to ear." The
crowd was by this time deeply excited,
and one of the boys shouted, How did
you get away alive?" I didn't," sol
emnly replied old Hornbenaer. "He
killed me and buried my body in the
celler." A mightv silence ensued.
HOW IT GROWS.
Judge Ferral, of the City Criminal
Court, going to bis home on the outskirts
of the city, at a late hour of the night,
fired his pistol in the air to aid in the
arrest of an individual fleeing from a
police officer.Saturday Argonaut.
Judge Ferral, of the Criminal Court,
while parsing on his way from his
residence one evening last week, saw a
fugitive endeavoring to escape from
justice, whereupon, drawing his pistol,
he fired two balls at him. The prisoner
was arrested by a police officer in the
vicinity, and remanded to custody.
Sunday Chronicle.
Judge Robert Ferral, Presiding Jus
tice of the First Cr-minal Court, one day
last week, seeing a person pass hastily
alone the street, and thinking he lecog-
ni/.od in him an offender of the law, com
manded him to stop and upon refussa!,
the Judge drew his revolver 'incl fired up
on the fugitive. He fell at tLe fir^t shot,
slightly wounded, and wai remanded to
the County Jail Monday Evening Bul
letin.
The Hon. Robert Feira', Pn siding
Justice of one of our leading tribunals,
one day last week, meeting a gentleman
passing along one of our most crowded
thoroughfares, drew \m volver and
commenced firing on him. The peuon
was greatly alarmed and attempted to
e-cape, but the Judge with fatal aim
brought him down vith a severe it not a
mortal wound. He was taken to a drug
store, and thenre to the County Jail,
where it was found that this inexcusable
and dastardly attack had born made up
on him in the mistaken heli that he
was an escaped criminal.Tuesday Morn
ing Call.
Judge Ferral, of the Supreme Court,
about noon one day last week, in San
Francisco, at the corner of Mongomery
and Kearney streets, in the midst of a
dense crowd of women and children,
drw a revolver and commencen firing
upon a gentleman in the door of a book
store. Before the gentleman could es
cape he wa peri orated with balls He
was taken to the nearest drugstore, where
seven physicians extracted the balls but
before their researches were over, the
man had breathed his last. He was taken
to the Morgue, where it was discovered
that he was a country clergyman, in San
Francisco for the purpose of purchasing
books for a Sunday school library. He
leaves a wife and seven children in a de
pendent condition No motive is assigned
for the crime.San Andiass Gazette.
The Hon. Robert Ferral, Ctiief Jus
tice of the Supieme Court of California,
has perpetrated one of those wanton and
inexcusible outrages that have now for
so many years disgraced the administra
tion of justice in the barbarous frontier
State of California. The Judge, armed
with a navy revolver, at midday, on the
comer of two of the most crowded thor
oughfares of the city, without the slight
est warning, and for some fancied injury
he had received from a very worthy
country clergyman, began to fire upon
him. The clergyman fell at the first dis
charge of the pistol, fatally wounded by
a ball in the left ear. The Judge, now
crazed with passion, continued to dis
charge his weapon indiscriminately at
the crowd. Seven ladies and nine child
ren weie fatally wounded fourteen or
fifteen other persons were WGunded. The
Judge then took his own life with a
bowie-knife. It is supposed that he was
crazy with drink, as he has been confined
several times in the inebriate Asylum for
delirium tremens.New York Herald.
The Hon. Robert Farral, Chief Justice
of the Supreme Court ot the United Slates,
a position analogous to that of Lord High
Chancellor of England, has perpetrated
one of those offenses so eminently charac
teristic of American civilization. We call
attention to it as an average example of
the mode of administering justice in the
United States of America. California is
one of the wild frontier States, located
somewhere between the Gulf ol Mexico
and Behring Straits. The City of San
Francisco, its capital, is a flourishing town,
whose population is composed largely of
savage Indians, freed slva
js, and despera-
does, fugitives from Australia and Boston.
On the Fourth of July, -when a large crowd
of persons assembled Dcfore the doors of
the State Capitol, where the Governor
was delivering an oration, the Chief Jus
tice stepped np to the Bishop of the Dio
cese and, without the slightest provo
cation, shot him dead with a revolver,
and then commenced an indisciimlnate
slaughter ot man, women and children.
This led to a general engagement be
tween the whites and blacks, which was
finally put down by a legiment ol horse
guards from a neighboring English col
ony, but not until many lives had been
sacrificed. Tliis incident is but one in a
thousand of like significance occurring
among our American cousins, all tending
to il.ustrate that Republican Government
is a failure. Nothing can be rrore re
prehensible than for the Judges of the
higher courts to indulge in the habit of
of carrying concealed weapons, and
shooting people as a mere pastime while
on a drunken frolic. The observations
of General Grant, and the attention paid
to him while in England, will doubtless
in time lead to the establishment of a
Government monarchical in form, Gen
eral Grant being the first of a dynasty.
He will probably be declared King un
dei- the title of Ulysses the First.London
Times.
Queer Tom.
Tom Flossofer was the queerest boy I
ever knew. I don't thing he ever cried.
I never saw him cry. If Fleda found her
tulips all rooted up by her pet puppy,
and cried, as little girls will,
Tom was sure to come around the corner
whistling and say: What makes yousry?
can you cry tulip? Do you think every
sob makes a root or a blossom? Here,
let's try to right them." So he would
pick up the poor flowers, put their roots
into the ground again, whistling all the
time, make the bed look smooth and
fresh, and take Fleda off to hunt hen's
nests in the barn. Neither did he do any
differently in his own troubles. One day
his great kite snapped the string and flew
a'way far out of sight. Tom stood still a
a moment, and then turned around to
come home, whistling a merry tune.
"Why, Tcm," said I, "Are vou not sorry
to lose that kite?" "Yes, but what's the
use? I can't take more than, a minute to
feel bad. 'Sorry' will not bring the kite
back, and I want to make another." Just
so when he broke his leg. "Poor Tom 1"
cried Fleda, ''you can't play any m-o-r-e!"
"I'm not poor, either. You cry for me
I don't have to myself, and I have a
splendid time to whistle. Beside, when I
get well I shall beat every boy in school
on the multiplication ta'ile for 1 say it
over and over till it makes me sleepy
every time my leg aches." Tom Flossofer
was queer, certainly but I wish a great
many more people were queer that way.
Nursery.
Humor of the liay.
A wit said of a piece where the scenery
required to be changed incessantly that
it was "a very moving play,"
GussieLizzie darling, why do you
wear another woman's hair? Lizzie
Gussie dear, why do you wear another
ca I mean, why do you wear calf's
skin on your hands?
Aunt MaryHere, Ethel dear, I have
brought jou some honey drops. Mamma
Oh, how nice! Ethel must -ave them
till she has a cough. Ediel (aftei
ing two or three minutes)I've
cough now.
"Now, then, madame, pleae
steadily at this place on the wall," said a
photographer to an old ladj, when he
had put her in position and tue plate in
the camera The old lady looked haul at
the spot indicated, then got up and
walked across the floor and minultly in
spected it, and then, turning to the pho
tographer, gently remarked, "I don't see
anything there."
Two Highlanders, kilted in primitive
order, dropped inadvertently into an
Episcopal chapel on Sunday, and seated
themselves in a comfortable pew. Hav
ing never been in an Episcopal chapel be
fore, their astonishment cannot be de
scribed on a beautiful symphony being
stiuck up by the oigauist. that in
stant a gentleman came to take posses
sion ot the seat, and civilly It,id his hand
on the shoulder of one of them, and
pointed to the door. "Ilout. unit!' cried
the Highlander, "tak out said there
he be a far better dancer than me."'
To know whether a garden has feeen
planted, or not, a paper gives I follow
ing rule: "If one forgets whether beds
are planted or not, a good way to tell is
to turn a stray cat into the garden. If
the beds are planted the cat will proceed
to race round and dig into them, and act
as if it had relatives in China whom it
was anxious to get at while, it they are
not, it will sit down calmly iu the path
and seem to be meditating on the
progress of missionary woik in Africa. A
cat's instinct seldom deceives in this
matter."
The matrons of society are complain
ing of the gross want of politeness ex
hibited by the young men of the day, who
it seems,as a rule,ignore tne R. S. V.P. of
invitation cards, and leave the hostess in
doubt as to the number of quests she
may expect. One of these insolent youths
received a neat rebuff when, on drawling
foTth as the excuse for not having written
"Oh, you know, now men don't answer,"
he was met by the remark, "No, men do
not answer, but gentlemen do."
The other night two Englishmen enter
ed the pit of a German theater, and as
soon as the curtain went up one of them
began to talk to his companion their
native tongue. Their neighbors prompt
ly requested him to be silent. "Why
should I be silent?" asked the unwelcome
visitpr. "Because everybody is here to
listen," somebody replied. "On the con
trary, I am here to speak." "That is a
poor jest." "Not at all. I am an inter
preter, and as such have been paid to
translate the piece to this gentleman as it
goes on."
"Throughout 'he hot and dusty day
The sprinkling sprink.er spt inks its way,
And sprinkles sprindiujrs vp and down
The sprinkful precincts of the tow i.
In vain have sprinkledh'dics swore
At ciossiugs spnnkly spu^kled o'er
In vain the sprightly spiinkling hoots
Who sees the sprinkler sprink his boots
That sprinkling sprinkler sprinkles on
Untill its sprinkling sprmk is done,
Nor pauses for a cur-e or thank
Unless its final sprink is opranii."
Here is a naval story, not a dozen years
old, which reveals the amusing ignorance
of a senior officer in matters outside his
profession. A lieutenant on board an
English guardship applied to his captain
ior leave to go on shore. It was retuseel.
He asked again the same answer, more
peremptory than before. He repeated
his request and, asked for reasons of
refusal. Both were still obstinately with
held. "But sir," he expostulated, "if I
a3k for leave, and you refuse it without
giving me any reasons, I shall walk about
the deck with a stigma on my back." "By
George, sir," cried the irate and rather
unreasonable captain, if I catch you
walking up and down her Majesty's deck
with any thing but her Majesty's uniform
on your back, I'll have you tried by
court-martial."
Just before a la^e thunder-storm a man
stepped into a telegraph offi '.e and re
quested the privilege of talking through
the telephone with his wife, who was
visiting the manager's wife at a distant
telegraph station. The assistant manager
granted the request, and the man began
operations. He couldn't be prevailed
upon to believe that it was really his wife
who was talking to him, and she so many
miles away. He finally asked her to say
or do something known to themselves
only, that he might be convinced that it
was she. Just then a rambling streak of
lightning came on the wires, hiiting the
husband violently on the head, when he
jumped to his feet and exclaimed: "I am
satisfied, all correct."
wait-
got a
look
Tim's Kit
It surprised the shiners and news-boys
around the Postoflice, the other day, to
see "Limpy Tim" come among them in a
quiet way, and to hear him say:
"Boys, I want to sell my kit. Here's
two brushes, a hull box of blacking, a
good stout box, and the outfit goes" fr
two shillins'!"
"Going' away, Tim?" quired one.
"Not 'zactly, boys, but I want a quarter
the wfullest kind just now."
"Goin' on a "scursion?" asked an
other.
"Not to-day, but I must have a quar-
ter," he answered.
One of the lads passed over the change
and took the kit, and Tim walked
straight to the counting-room of a daily
paper, put down his money, and said:
"I guss I kin write it if you'll give me
a pencil."
"With slow-moving fingers he wrote a
death notice. It went into the paper al
most as he wrote it. He wrote:
"D'edLiitle Tedof scarlet fever aiged
three years. Funeral to-morrow, gon to
ELevin left .von brother.
'Was it your brother?" asked the
cashiei
Tim tried to brace up, but couldn't
The big tears came up, his chii quiver
ed, and he pointed to the notice on the
counter and gasped:
"II had to sell my kit to do it, b
but he bad his arms aiound my neck
when he ddied
He hurried away home, but the news
went to the boys, and they gathered in
a group and talked. Tim had not been
home an hour before a barefooted boy
left the kit on the doorstep, and in the
box was a bouquet of flowers.Detroit
Free Pi ess
Forty, Less One.
BY JAMES K1CHAKDSON.
Over by the tangled thicket,
Where the leiel meets the hill,
Where the mealy alder bushes
Crowd around the ruiued mill,
Where the thrushes whistle early,
\S here the midges love to phy.
Wheie the nettles, tall and ^tinging,
Guaid the vine obstiueted way,
Where the tired biooklet lingers
In a quiet little pool,
Mi-tre& Salmo Fontin dis
Keeps a MJI
private school
Forty httle speckled beauties
Come to learn of *'er, each dav,
flow to elunb the foaming lapids,
Where the Hashing sunbeams play,
How to navigate the edaies,
How to smk ai how to rise,
flow to watv.h lor passing perils,
How to leap forpa-sni,r thes,
When to plaj upon the suruice,
W hen bt ueath the stones to hide,
All the secrets of the wafer,
All brook learning, true and tried.
'That's a good-ior-uothintr skipper
"that's a harmless yellow-bud
"That's the flicker of the shine,
When the alder leaves are stirred
"Thai's the shadow of a cloudlet."
''Teat's a squirrel come to ink
"Thai's look out foi him, my darlings!
He's alieiceand hungry mink
"That's the ripple on the water,
When the winds the wavelets -stir
"Thj.tsnap quick, my little hearties!
That's alucious grasshopper."
So the clever Mistress Salmo
Owes her counsel, day by day,
Teaching all thetroutly \htnes,
All life's lessons grave and ay.
Well she knows tie flashing terror
Of King Fishei's sudden lall!
Well she knows the lurking danger
Of the barb'd hook, keen and small!
Well she tries to warn her pupils
Of all evils, low and hisrh!
But, alas! the vain young triflers
Sometimes disobey-and die!
What was that which passed so quickly,
With a slender shade behind?
What is that which 6tires the alder,
When no ripple tells of wind?
What sends Mistress Salmo darting
Underneath the stones in fear?
Crying, "Hide ourselves, my darlings,
Our worst enemy is near!"
"I am bound IO understand it,"
Save one self proud specKle-side
"When I see the danger's real,
Then if need be, I can hide."
So he waits alone and watches,
Sees the shadow pa-^s again,
Sees a fly drop on the water,
Dashes at it, mi^ht and main,
"Missed it! W 11," he says, "I never!
That's the worst jump made to-day!
Here another comes now lor it!"
Splash! He's in the airto stay!
When the alders cease to tremble,
Silence come6 and sun-glints shine,
Mistress Salmo Fontinalis,
Calls the roll-just thiity-nine!
St. Nicholas for July.
_e.
THE STOSE-Cl'l TEES STORY.
He was whistling over his work, care
less, from lwng custom, ot the solemn
significance of the letters he was cutting
in the white marble. The June sun was
nearly at tl end of the day's iourney,
sinking slowly to rest upon the bosom of
the broad Atlantic, whose waves washed
tie shores ot the little seaport town of
Monkton. A stranger, handsomely dress
ed in gray, with large, lustrous brown
eyes, came to the fence that was
around the yard where the stone-cutter
worked, and read the lettering, almost
completed, upon the tombstone:
HirUM GOLDBY,
Aged 35.
iOST AT SEA., JA2?CA.TfcY, 1S60.
The last six was nearly completed A
strange pallor gath red for a moment
upon te stranger's face and then he
drew a long, deep breath and said:
"Is not ten years a long time to be
cutting letters on a tombstone, friend?"
"En, sir*"
The' stone-cutter looked, shaded his
eyes with his brown hand, as he turned
his face to the settmg sun.
"This is 18767' was the grave replv,
"aadijLiru.ru Goldby has been then yeais
uudei I he waves."
"Well sir, thats the questionis he
there?"
Is he there? Your stone tells us he
is and has been for ten years.''
"Yes, sir, so it doesso it does. And
yet she has or ie: edit. She came over a
week or so back with a worried look upon
her sweet face that I have never seen any
thing but patient in the long years, ana
she said to me: You mar cut i stone,
Davy,' she says, -and put it up in the
churchyard, and I don't want to see it.
I'll pay you whatever you choose to ask,
Davy,' she says, 'but he's not dead, and
don't want a tombstone.' 'Lor, mum,'
says I, he'd a turned up all these years if
he was not dead.' But she shot her
pretty head, the prettiest I ever seen, sir.
and she said: 'My heart never told me
that he was dead, Davy, and I'll never
believe it till my heart tells me so.'
"His sweetheart?" questioned the
stranger.
"His wife, sirhis loving, faithful wife,
that's had poverty, and loneliness and
misery, her full share, and might ha' bet
tered herself."
"How was that?"
"Mr. Miles, sir, the richest shop owner
hereabouts, he waited patiently for seven
long years, trying to win her. Then he
said that she was fiee even if Hiram came
back."
"Enoch Arden," muttered the stranger.
"What did you say, sir?"
"Nothing, nothing. What answer did
the widow make, Mr. Miles?"
If Hiram's dead,' said she, 'I'm his
faithful wife.' "Maybe yon are from the
city, sir, and haven't heard the story of
our Pearl?"
"What story is that?"
''"Well, sir, it's Vee told many times,
more particularly in the la9t year, but
yo'' 're welcome to what I know of it
There, that six is done, and I'i! leave the
Scripture text till morning. If you''J
come to the gateway and ake a seat ot,
some of the stones, I'll tell you, that is
you care to hear it."
"I do care," was the grave reply -I
want very much to hear the story."
"Maybe you're 3omc kin to th'* Pear!
of Monktonthat's what they call Mr
Gold by hereabouts. It's a matter ot
thirty-three years back, sir, that tht-rt
was a wreck off Monkton rocks, that you
can see from here, sir, now tide's
ago."
%fow
Cruel rocks they are, and many a wreck
they ve seen, the more the pity You st
them, sir?"
I see tbem."
"Well, sir, this one wreck, thirty-three
years ago, there was nothing washf
ashore but a bit of a girl-baby' th'ee oi
3ur years old, with a skin like a lily .e i.
and great black eyes. Hiram Goldb,
found her oh the rock*. He v*t3 a boy i
twelve yt ar strong and tail, and"
carried the child in his arms to 1
mother. You may see the cottage, i.
the second w!:ite
one on the sido of tl.
hill."
"I see it."'
Well, Hirm took the baby there, an
Mrs. Jidby is the same as a mother i
ita j,ood woman, God bie^s her soul
the Widow G'Idby.
she dead, then?"
A\e, .-ir, six years agone. The- b't1.,
was telling you of, sir, talked a forei^
lingo, and was dress beautiful in rh!
clothes, that luust have cod: a power i
money. But never would Hiram or \W
widow soli th_m putting them up can
fully case the ch Id was ever looke i
tor. She was that pretty, sir, and that
dainty, that evei^body called her Peai i,
though she was not like our girls, but
atraid, always deadly afraid ot the sen
I h-ive seen her clench her mite of a hai
and stiike at it, for she had a bit of i
temper in her, t! ougb nothing to harm.
When Hiram made his first voyage,
for they were all seafaiing men heit
abouts, and there was nothing for a lad to
do but ship, the Pearl was just a little
washed out lily, a freltiner until he canu
home again. And it was so whenever hi
went, tor they were sweethearts from the
firot time he nestled her baby face on
his breast, when he picked her up
from the wreck. She was sixteen when
they were married, as near as we could
guess Hiram was a nun of twenty-four
She prayed him to stay at home then, and
he stayed a year, but he fretted for the
sea, and he went agaiD, thinking, I s'pose.
that his wife would get used to it, as'well
as all wives hereabouts must do. Bui
she never did -never. It was just piti
able to see her go kbout, white as a corpse,
when Hiram went away, never lookiu
at the sea without a shudder like a death
chill. All through the war it was just
awful, for Hiram enlisted on board a
man o'-war, and Pearl was just a shadow
when he came home the last time."
'After the "warV
"Yets, sir but he made no money
of any account, and so went away
asain, after staying at home a long spell
Well, he never came back. 'Twasn't no
manner of use a telling Pearl he was lost,
she'd just shake her pretty head and say:
'He'll come back.' Not a mite of mourn
ing wonld she wear, even after his own
mother gave him up and went in black
for, sir, it stands to reason he's dead
years
"It looks so."
"Of course it does nobody else doubts
it but Mrs. Gold oy's last words were
'I'm sroing to meet Hiram,' and thpy sa\
the dying know. But even then thai
d:du't make Pearl think so. She woie
mouining for her who bad been the onlj
mother she knowed of, but not weeds
Weeds was for widows, she said, and she
wasn't a widow."
"But the stone?"
"Well, sir, I'm coming to that. Ayeai
ago, sir, a fine gentleman bom France
came heie hunting for a child, lost on
this coast. He'd heard of Pearl by hap
pen chances, it there is such, and came
here. When he saw the clothes, he ju:
fainted like a woman."
"She was related, then?"
The stranger's voice was husky, but the
sea air was growing chill.
"lit father, sir."
"He took her away?"
He tried to. He toid lier of a splenu
ed home he had in New YorK, for he
followed his wife and child, s.r, to the
city they had never reached. He wa
rich and lonely. He begged his child
go, but she wouid not. 'Hiiaui wili come
here lor me,' she said, 'and he must tin i
me wbeie he left me.'
"On what has she livedo"
"Sewinjr, sir, mostly. The cottage vva
old Mrs. Gold by's, and bless you, Peari
oid not eat much more than a bird, and
ner dresses cost next to nothing But
there's no denying -he was very poor
veiy, and yet the giand home and big foj
tune never tempted her. So her lathci
came on and on to see her, until April
An' he died, sir, and left our Pearl all his
fortune and the grand house in New
York But she'll not go, sir, she'll dn
here, waiting for Hiram, who'll nevn
come."'
The stranger lilted his face that had
been half hidden in his hand and said
'There was a shipwreck in the Pacific
Ocean, Davy, yeais and years ago, and
one man was savedsaved, Daw, by sav
ages who made hi a slave, the worst ol
slaves! But one day this sailor saved the
life of the chiefs daughter, who was in
thecoils of a hugh snake, and the chief re
leased him. More than that he gave him
choice spices and woods and sent him
aboard the first passing ship. So the sai
lor landed in a great city, sold his pres
ents and put the gold in safe keeping.
Then he traveled till he reached the sea
port town where he was born, and com
ing there at sunset, heard the story of
his life from the lips of a man cutting his
tombstone."
Not a word spoke Davy. Sf
She never looked at it, Hiram, never. And
there's not an hour, nor hasn't been for
ten year?, tl.at she hasn't been looking for
vou to come back. Go to her, man, and
the Lord's bkssmg be upon both of you.'*
So, grasping the hard, brown uand,
Hiram Gollby took the path to tu little
white cottage where he had been bora
forty-five years before. The sun had set
ind the darkness was gathering, but a
little gleam of lij ht streamed irom the
window of his cottage. He drew near
)ftly, and standing on the seat of the
poarch, looked over the ha I curtain into
the neat bur poor sittii room.
It was not the grand houe, Pearl'9
heritage in New York, but Pearl herself
was there. A slender woman, with a
pale, sweet face, aud blck ba.r-moothly
oanded and gathered into lich braids at
he back of he -liapely head. H-r dress
-it a am durk on.-, with white mules,
curl's and an apron.
She tiad been sewing, but her was
put aside, and oresentiy she came to the
open window ar tniew aid the curtain.
She did not thy tali tU-uit drawn
closely against the wall in the nairow
poaicu, but her daik eves lnokeu mourn
rully toward the- s-eu, gliuimeiin +he
ha light.
My darling!' she nhisueieei. -a' you
ded, and nas \ot'r spirit' come to fake
mine where v^e shall part i more?''
Ojly the wa-h ot the wave oeiow an
swered her. Sighing siltlv, she saul:
'Is my darling coming' I feel him so
a to rue. 1 -uld almost ,i.p him."
She stic.ched our her amis over the
low window sill, and a low \oiue answered
hei-
4 Pel! Peatl!"
The aims that had so long grasped on
ly empty air, were rilled then, &, Hiram
stood under the low window.
"Do not move, love," she whispered,
pressing hei soft lips to (lis "I always
wake when you move."
'But now,'' he said, -sou are already
av,alee Ste, Pearl, your tiust was heav
en-given. It is myself, your fond, true
ausband, little one, who A ill a ver leave
you asii
"It is true Yovt have come!' -*ae
cried at last, bursting info a torrent of
happy tears.
ilI
anding
erect, he siezed an immense sledge ham
mer, and with powerful blows from strong,
uplifted arm, dashed the arble into
fragments. Then, panting, with exertion,
he held out his brawny hand to the stran
gera stranger no longer.
"I've done no tetter work in my life
than I've done in the last five minute?,
Hiram. Go home, man, and make Pearl's
heart glad. She don't need it, Hiram
she don't need it. You asked me about
the stone. Tie neighbors drove her to
ordering it, twitting her that now she was
rich, she grudged the stone to her
husband's memory. So she toid me to
cut it, but says, 'Don't put dead upon it,
Davyput lost at sea for Hiram's lost,
but he'll be found and come back to me.
kue oil wt re not dead.
You could not be dead and my heart not
tell me." It was lonn before they could
think of anything bu the happiness of
re-union after the many jeais ot separa
tion, but at last, drawing Pearl closer,
Hiram whispered"I walked lrom
love, and am enormouslv hungry
And Pearl's merry laugh chased the
last shadows from her heppy face, and
she bustled about the room preparing
supper.
"Supper for twD!" she cried gleefully.
The grant old house in New York is
tenanted by its owners, and Hiram goes
to sea no more but in the summer Time
two happy people come lera quiet month
to the little white cottage at Monkton,
and have always to listen to Duvy's tale
of the evening when he was cutting Hir
am Goldby's tombstone, and ended by
smashing it into atoms.
"For," is the in\ariable endifg ol the
tale. "Paail was light, eni we were
wiong, all of us for liiiam Goldby was
lost at sea, sure enough, but he was not
dead, and he came to her faithful love as
she alwavs said he would."'
A Tin-Clad Dog.
OIn these times of mad dogs, one which
got his head iato a tin jar a few nights
ago at the residence of \Y. T. Chandler,
Beaver Valiey, Del was the maddest of
all, but happi.y he was not mad limn an
attack of hydiophobia. Spooking around
Mr. Chandlers back vaid, he found in an
open summer kitchen a tall tin jir with
something in the bottom which made him
thiust his head in a con-ut rabh- distance
to reach the palatable mor-el at the bot
tom, which we belli vj, wa-i potato yeast.
Piobably not from the effects of ,e jeast,
but from some cause, the dog's head from
the nose to hind the eais grew so lar^e
thatthecta p^istcd up lemaiuing on
bis head. When the dog found that he
was fairly caught and not being able to
howl himself, he commenced a feiies of
gymnastics that made more noise than
half a dozen dogs. H^ tugged at the can
with his feet, he -norte an sn '-7e and
would have gto-ftlcl it ho could. tie rolled
over on bis back, stood upon Ins hind feet,
and shooic himself, but that can was
thf.r'' and he could not it move it. Tak
ing a cruise aiound the rd he jabbed
the big end of his tin e'ongition against
the jaid fence, jan med through a bunch
of dahlias, swept downa\ath through
the potato patch, and cm Tging to the
onion bed he took a loll in it, and
eoniming back io the open kit iien again
he sent the breakfast tible hor.i dc com
bat, legs upwards. By fhi- time Mr.
Chandler had so far lecovered from the
(ears iuejidered by tli" terrible racket
below, that he ventured horn, his bed to
see what was too matter. 0{"-ning the
kitchen door, the dog hearing a noise
made a bounce in that direction, almost
jamming the bottom of his tin that
stuck to him "cloie- than a brother" into
Mr C. 's face. Frightenei tor the in
staot at such a queer k'nd of iin animal,
Mr. Chandler shut the t'n-heided Least
out, but after a moment's consideration,
he grasped the situation and boldly weut
out and graspe 1 that tin can, an i with a
dexterous ellort he threw the fuzzy end
uf it over the fence, but held on to the
tin end. The dog pulled and Mr, Chand
lor pulled, and at last the separation
came, Mr. C. performing a somersault on
one side of the fence and the dog at the
other.
Ward to Tell.
The sounds of blows and shrieks at
tracted a crowd before a house on Mullet
Street, the other day, and directly a po
liceman came sauntering along. He
seemed a trifle anxious, but yet made no
movement, and one of the crowd ex
claimed
"Why in the name of Heaven don't
you stop that?"
"Is it a fight?" queried the officer.
"Of course it is!"
"Are you sure?"
"Sure? Why even a fool can tell that
some one is being pounded to death!"
"Perhaps so," mused the officer but
you can't tellcan't tell. I jumped in
once in just such a case as this, and
found that it was a young lady taking
music lesons, instead of a row. Keep
still, you boys, and let me see if I can
hear crockery bang against the walls.
afc
Beggars are choosers when they choos
to beg. -N. 0. Picayune.

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